#And I get slightly high off of interaction

[tender-rosiey]

maybe jelly — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: gojo getting jealous? 👁️👁️

you arrive at jujutsu high, as you prepare for your guest lecture. you’ve given these talks before, but this time, something feels a little different—satoru is acting strange.

not that he’s ever normal, but today he seems extra…dramatic.

“you’re going to kill it, babe,” satoru says, draping his arm over your shoulders as you walk toward the classroom. his blindfold hides his eyes, but you can feel the intensity of his gaze, more focused than usual.

“you okay?” you ask, glancing at him with a teasing grin. “you seem a little... off.”

“me? off? never,” he replies, lips pulling into his trademark smirk. “just making sure no one gets too cozy with my brilliant wife. gotta make sure these kids remember you’re taken.”

you roll your eyes playfully, “I think everybody and their mother know that, satoru.”

time passes by, and now, you stand at the front of the lecture hall at jujutsu high, wrapping up your talk.

the students seem genuinely engaged, and one in particular, a young sorcerer named ren, is practically bouncing with enthusiasm, asking follow-up questions.

“and how did you manage to seal that curse without any physical confrontation?” ren asks, his voice brimming with admiration and curiosity.

before you could respond, satoru appears at your side with his usual confidence, his presence instantly commanding attention, “well, she is the wife of the gojo satoru. kinda comes with the territory,” he interjects, flashing his signature grin.

you shoot him an exasperated look, “I’m pretty sure my skills had something to do with it.”

satoru leans in close, nuzzling against your cheek affectionately before pulling back slightly. “oh, of course, sweetheart. you’re amazing, but it doesn’t hurt to be married to the strongest sorcerer around, right?”

ren blinks, clearly caught off guard by the interaction.

he glances between you and satoru, his expression a mix of confusion and awe. “I wasn’t aware you were married,” he mutters, his gaze flickering between you and satoru as if trying to process this new information.

you smile and give satoru a jab into his ribs that he takes like a champ, “yeah, he likes to remind people. it’s kind of his thing.”

satoru, never one to miss an opportunity to make a grand statement, leans down and places a soft kiss on the top of your head.

his arm slips casually around your waist, “just keeping things clear. y'know, in case anyone forgets that I get the honor of calling you mine.”

ren tries to steer the conversation back to his question, “so, about the sealing technique…”

satoru cuts him off again, stepping slightly in front of you with a playful yet firm stance.

“hey, hey, let’s not bombard her with too many questions now. she’s been on her feet alllll day, talking about all the cool stuff she’s done and showing everybody just how badass she is.”

you roll your eyes but can’t suppress a small smile. stepping around him to face ren again, you continue, “ignore him. the technique I used requires focusing on—”

satoru clears his throat dramatically, pulling you back to his side and wrapping his arm around your shoulders, eyes boring into the poor boy even through his blindfold.

“you know what I think? I think my lovely wife deserves a break. maybe some alone time with her handsome, strong, and incredibly talented husband?”

you raise an eyebrow at him, your tone teasing. “handsome and humble, I see.”

satoru’s grin widens, and he leans down to whisper in your ear, “I can be both when it comes to you.”

you are about to retort back, but then you remember that ren is still here.

you turn to the boy with a smile and assure him, “anyway, ren, if you want to chat more about techniques, we can catch up later. after my husband gets over himself,” you hiss at the man who raises his hands in surrender.

ren, now visibly flustered and unsure, mumbled, “uh, I’ll… catch up with you later then. thanks for the talk!”

ren dashes out the room, slamming the door behind him. you tap your feet against the ground for a few minutes, before you elbow satoru again.

he stays standing up, chest puffed out and a big grin plastered on his face. you deadpan as you stare at your husband, “you really couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

satoru shrugs nonchalantly, still holding you close. he hums, giving you a kiss on the forehead, “what can I say? I don’t like sharing. besides, you are the wife of the strongest sorcerer; it’s important to make sure that’s clear.”

you roll your eyes, but you can’t help but smile helplessly at your husband. your fingers find their way through his hair making him instantly melt. you giggle at your puddle of a husband, “you’re so lucky I love you.”

he tilts his head slightly, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “I love you more, soooooooooooo—”

“oh my god, I get it,” you laugh as you try to push him off. he resists with a whine as he nuzzles his face into your shoulder. you yield and let the silence fill the room.

he hums softly as you both sway mindlessly.

“but y’know,” you pull back slightly, smiling up at him, “you really do like to make an impression.”

he chuckles, his eyes twinkling with a mix of pride and mischief, “just doing my part to ensure everyone knows how lucky I am and how lucky they should feel to be in the presence of my extraordinary wife.”

he intertwines your left hands together and raises them slightly, showing off the rings. the sun makes them shine quite brightly, and it makes you sigh with a smile and satoru let out a huff of laughter.

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[lovecried]

˚˖𓍢ִ໋˚ ROUGH AROUND THE EDGES.

you've made your way up the rankings and retired pro-hero, dynamite aka bakugo katsuki, couldn't be more proud.

( fic demographics. ) boku no hero academia, bakugo katsuki, sexually mature | minors, ageless & blank blogs: do not interact & 7370 words.

╰┈➤ retired pro-hero!bakugo katsuki, sidekick turned pro-hero!reader (she/they), age gap (bakugo in his early to mid fifties/reader in their early thirties), alcoholic consumption, standing sixty-nine, playful banter, some bratty behavior, rough sex, unprotected sex (creampie), multiple orgasm, mating press, cum swallowing, slight slapping, dirty talk, etc.

( author's note. ) i realized that im a basic bitch and usually stick to the same kinks and positions in my smut and decided to change it up slightly. ended up having so much fun that im now currently in a bakugo rut and want him to do some very nasty shit to me.

Bakugo doesn’t quite remember when he started feeling so old. When did his hearing become so sensitive? Was it from the multiple times he had was an inch away from his own end— a ringing in his ear that was damn-near deafening? Or is it simply because he’s halfway to his sixties? When had his appetite become so bland? How come he can’t drink as much as he wants now that he’s retired from being a pro-hero? 

He thought the moment he finally received an actual break, things would get better, but he’s wishing to go back. Is there a type of quirk that’ll de-age him? It doesn’t have to last forever, just long enough where he can bask and reminisce in the feeling of being young and in his prime. Now he’s in his mid-fifties and he can’t move as freely as he wants to anymore. He was once a high-ranking hero working his ass off to be at the top and giving himself little time to enjoy it. Not that he could, danger was always a millisecond away. He got everything he ever wanted. He should be proud of it, and he is. He truly is, but God damn, sometimes does he have regrets. 

He’s still nursing this glass of whiskey that the bartender served him for ten minutes, sitting at the bar of a pristine place only open to pro-heros and sidekicks, active or retired. It’s a Thursday evening, a quiet night unlike its usual business. Bakugo’s always here on a Thursday, so much so that the moment he walks in, the bartender Akiri already has his drink waiting for him. Always cold and fresh, like it was served right in front of him. She has a weird quirk— everlasting ice— but it proves to be great in her line of business. 

The television is on and despite the music playing, he can hear the current news report. 

“This just in on Pro-Hero ranking, Spiderweb continues to climb the charts, their venomous webs seemingly seeping a new poison that makes every fall in love with her. Rumor has it that she’ll be the number one hero within the next month—”

Bakugo doesn’t hear your arrival, not hearing the jingle of the overhead bells the moment you walk in. He doesn’t even hear the moment you slide out the chair, its legs scraping against the tiled ground. You frown as his focus remains on the television, watching you when the real deal is right there. He really is getting rusty.

“You're losing your touch, Dynamite,” you slide on the stool, grabbing his drink right out of his hand the moment he falls out of his trance. “A villain could've walked right in and you would've been—” you snap your fingers. “—done for.”

He ignores your comment because he knows you're right. Can't argue that he still had the skills. He had some, but some wouldn't be enough. Instead he takes you, drinking you with his eyes. You're still in your hero suit that closely resembles everyday clothing to the regular eye, but Bakugo knows how you designed your hero fit, he helps you improve it after all. 

An ashy purple top that sucked you in, holding you in place. It had a dark gem-like pattern on it that people could mistake for rhinestones, but you were intricate with the design, using the same fluid you use to take down villains to help create the spider web pattern that runs down the top. Around your wrists, are smaller and more stylistic versions of his gauntlets, resembling bangles to help you store sweat. Similar to his quirk, you form the webs through your build up of yours with further additions. He remembered you explaining just exactly how your quirk works, but started to check out once it became too biological. 

Your black pants were baggy, helping with your own comfort as you had a fanny pack around your waist, holding them up. The boots you wore were another storage for your sweat, your clothes being a tool to absorb your bodily fluids, where you were able to experiment with yourself and further prove your usefulness. It definitely contrasted with your old sidekick uniform— a skimpy piece that you paid someone to have designed for you and you didn't have the heart to tell that you didn't like it. Considering that you're climbing the rankings now, he figures you've finally grown that backbone you used to lack when he first got you. 

“Well, if it isn't Spiderweb,” he turns in his seat to face you. It's apparent that he still works out, arms still bulging out, though he's gaining some chub in some places. But that scar on his face and his facial expression doesn't have you fooled, he's still rough around the edges. “I still prefer Deadly Spider, by the way.”

You roll your eyes with the tilt of your head as you scoff out sarcastically, “Of course, you do, Explosion Murder God— whatever it is.”

“Haha,” he feigns laughter, subconsciously scooting closer to you. “What're you doing here? Shouldn't you still be on patrol?”

“I'm not rumored to become number one for nothing,” you wink. I finished up early. Bakugo snorts. Finishing up early doesn't exist, and you know that. Hearing his snort, you stop the joking and become a little more serious. You technically weren't lying when you said you finished up early. “I was on a case for a while. I should still be out there, but I managed to crack shit down and I decided I needed to reward myself after a long day.”

He nods, bringing his glass to his lips finally. “You've gotten good,” he gestures to the screen.

“I had a good mentor,” you smile. He chuckles at that, “Damn right, ya did.”

You can't help but giggle as you slump in the chair. You can see him looking at you from the corner of his eyes, those vermillion eyes that used to always be set in a scowl now seem to be brighter. He lets out a breath as he downs the whiskey in one go. “‘m proud of ya, (Y/N). You're not disappointing me after all.”

“Have I ever?” You expect the answer to be yes. That there must've been times where you've disappointed him, especially in your early days of being a sidekick. A few UA graduates that had your tail between your legs and didn't know how you survived the lot of it. You made stupid mistakes and were chastised for it. Surely those were the moments where he was obviously disappointed in you, right? 

There's a long pause before he's shaking his head, beckoning the bartender over and asking for two more glasses. The bartender is quick, placing one in front of you and Bakugo. You're not a drinker, but you take a few sips from it. “Nah. Always knew I passed the torch to the right person.”

You snort, calling his blasphemy. “You're lying to me to make me feel good. What about that time I dropped that serum?”

“It was your first big case with me as a fresh graduate,” he remembered that day vividly. It was a month in of you being his sidekick. You were used to being by his side during patrols and smaller cases. He didn't expect to have you thrown in something like that so soon. He wanted to leave you behind, but others thought otherwise and in a rare moment, he didn't follow his intuition. “You were bound to fuck up after being thrown in with the wolves.”

Your eyes widen at his nonchalance, but they become serious in an effort to prove him wrong. Why would you want to? Bakugo can't understand as you start relaying moments where you messed up, whether it was a small accident or a huge fuckup. Stubborn as an ass, Bakugo still upholds his position. “Quit it, won'tcha? If I thought y’er a disappointment, you'd’ve been fired a long time ago.”

“Well,” you start to tear up. “That's refreshing to hear after all.”

“Now, don't make me change my mind!” He knows you all too well, seeing how the corner of your eyes start to water. “Here I thought ya finally grew a backbone, but y’still cry like a baby.”

“What?” You exclaim, not denying his claims. “I've never cried in front of you. How'd you even know?”

“Y’always were on the verge of tears, honey,” he smirks. “It wasn't hard to miss.”

The way honey fell from his lips with ease. His raspy voice sent something straight through you that it was hard to keep your composure. You're starting to remember your younger years where you'd ogle him, all while trying to not cry from him yelling at you. Despite how rough he seemed back then, you had developed a crush that you thought you grew out of. But, here you are, falling back into old ways. 

If Bakugo notices a shift, he doesn't mention it. Instead, swiveling back around to stare at God knows what. You clear your throat, taking a huge gulp of the whiskey. Your throat burns as you quickly question why Bakugo seems to like it so much. “I'm getting better though. At hiding my tears, and I do have a backbone, by the way. Just took me a while to find it, but it's all intact.”

“Good to know,” Bakugo says, dismissively, the atmosphere changing. You try to say something else, but you can't find anything to talk about anymore, despite your mind running with lots of stuff. You remembered a month into Bakugo's retirement that he started coming to Sakura's Blossom— the bar you're in now. A popular place for heroes to relax, somewhere Bakugo used to always avoid as a hero, becoming a favorite for him. When he pushed you to become a hero, your early days were close in its vicinity. You'd always see him walk in, but he's never seen you. It became a regular for him to come in on Thursdays, making it easy for you to find him.

You've always wanted to run after him, tell him how much you're grateful for his endorsement and that you'll make him proud. Because in the midst of it all, you had forgotten to and it was slowly eating at you. You had been raised to always give gratitude and you couldn't even thank the man that put you where you are today. But now, your throat is dry and you still can't. 

You can. You. Can. You can—

Bakugo pushes out against the chair, standing up as he pays for the bill— for both yours and his drinks. He nods towards the bartender before looking down at a speechless you. “Good night, Spiderweb.”

You should've said it then, but you don't. “Good night, Dynamite.”

—

You managed to change your schedule, so that you have Thursday nights free, managing to find another hero willing to switch with you. You start making regular appearances when Bakugo's there, and when he asks, you always lie. Though, you know that he knows you're lying. However, he never says your word. Simply just enjoying your company. 

You missed him, missed having him around. And he realizes that he's missed you. When he first became a pro-hero and as he grew comfortable in this dangerous career, he flew solo. Did everything on his own and didn't want a shadow that wasn't his own following him around. However, as he grew in age and realized that a second hand wouldn't hurt, he hired you to help make things easier for him. 

At first, you were a mere pain in the ass. Like you had said, you had messed up countless times and God, was he close to firing you at plenty of points in time. But, something was hindering him from doing so. He just couldn't do it. So, he kept you and trained you to be who you needed to be— helped shape yourself into someone he was proud of, as well as yourself. Sometimes when you'd seek his advice, your voice would get soft and he’d be reminded of that young woman you once were, but you've grown so much. You still might not believe him, but damn is he proud of you.

“Breaking News! Spiderweb has found themself in a web of her own. An elaborate plan on her part turned against her as a villain gives her a taste of her own medicine. Luckily, other pro-heros within her vicinity were able to help rescue them, but she was gravely injured and was brought to the hospital. Reporters have yet to hear about their condition—

Bakugo doesn't think twice before he's springing from his seat, dropping some cash and heading in your direction. He should've known from the moment that you were ten minutes late than when you usually drop in to chat that something was up. “Fuck,” he curses, climbing into his vehicle and speeding in your direction. If he's got it right, he knows exactly where you've been taken. 

You've been in and out of consciousness the moment an IV has been shoved in your veins from the joint of your arms and biceps. You were in an immense amount of pain, nearly every part of your body aching. When you squint your eyes open, you're greeted with white and you know you're in the hospital. It should be a relief, you're alive, but you feel the tears building up. You've failed. And you have before, but this time it's different. 

In the midst of finding your groove and truly feeling like yourself, you've been forced flat on your back and lost the upper hand, having to depend on others to rescue you instead of doing the rescuing. You were careless, wreckless, a disappoint—

“Where is she?” You recognize that voice. That gruff and raspy voice. It doesn't help soothe the pain, only making it worse as you begin to sob. The machine you're hooked up to starts beeping erratically. 

“Sir, we need you to calm down. She's just starting to become stable. She's in good hands—”

“Then why won't you let me see her?” Bakugo slams his fist into the desk. “She's not in surgery, is she?”

“No, but…” It goes silent from there, hearing a slew of voices and footsteps rushing towards you before Bakugo follows. “That's her! Let me see—”

“Sir, if you do not calm down, we won't have a choice in having you removed!”

You don't remember much from that point on, knowing that Bakugo didn't go down without a fight and probably finding some sort of loophole into seeing you again. When you open your eyes once more, you're more stable and not in and out of sleep. You're still in pain, but feeling slightly better. 

“Yer up,” a deep voice booms, filled with exhaustion as a huge yawn leaves Bakugo's mouth. “‘Bout damn time.”

You should be happy that he stayed to make sure you're in a stable condition and that he cares for you, but you aren't. Only reminded of your mistake. “You—you should go.”

You end up croaking and stammering on your words, but he makes out what you say and scoffs. “What the hell are ya talkin’ ‘bout? Didn't come rushin’ here and fight off a guard just to be told to leave.” 

“Dynamite—”

“Bakugo—”

“Dynamite,” you pause, expecting him to rebuttal, but he doesn't. “Please, I don't have the strength. And, I don't want you seeing me like this.”

“Seeing you like how?”

“Vulnerable.”

He snorts, crossing his arms as he stands over you by the bed. His big arms bulge as he doesn't take you seriously for a second. “Don't give me that shit. I'm stayin’.”

You don't even know why you tried arguing with a stubborn ass like him. You should've known it was pointless. He always seems to get his way, so instead. You do what you do best. Cry. 

And it's worse than he can ever imagine. You're in full-blown tears, sobbing heavily that your eyes will be bloodshot red by the end of it. He doesn't know what to do or what to say to get you to stop, leaving him speechless as he can do nothing but stand there. Why don't you want him there so bad?

“I… I failed you,” you finally sob out, clenching your fists as they crack. Your nails dig into your skin as you force your body to turn away from him.

“What are you talking about?” Bakugo asks, incredulous. “Failed me, how?”

“I got too ahead of myself,” you further explain. “Thought I could take that villain on my own, only to get a taste of my own medicine.”

Is this what this is about? Why you were in such a haste to kick him out of your hospital room? 

His uncontrollable laughter catches you off guard, having you spinning your head to look at him so hard that it hurts. “W-why are you laughing? It's not funny!” 

“Oh, honey.” There he goes, calling you honey in your horrible predicament. “But it is!”

His laughter dies down not too shortly after, a hand instinctively reaching to caress you, pushing away your braids that nurses lazily put in a ponytail. “It was bound to happen. You climb up the ranks, get a little cocky and then God strikes ya down. Happens to us all.”

“You make my near-death experience sound like it's normal,” you mumble.

“It is,” he points out. “For people like us. It's what we signed up for— it's what you signed up. Be grateful you're alive. From what I'm hearing, you'll make a great recovery. If Recovery Girl was working here, you'd have been out of here quicker than this.”

“I thought you were going to chastise me,” you admit. “It's what I wanted— what I needed.”

“If ya wanted it so much, you wouldn't’ve tried kicking me out.”

“Mmm, maybe you're right,” you give up. “You should still, though.”

His eyes grow dark in a teasing fashion, looking down at you. “And give ya what you want so easily? Not a fat chance.”

—

As Bakugo had said you would, you make a speedy recovery, getting back on your toes in no time. You take his advice, taking it easy and to not make the mistakes he made earlier on in going solo. Your ranking has dropped a few, having to live with the next month or so with people ridiculing and noting how you got full of yourself. They were right, you did, and you'll learn to be better— to accept help and ask for it. Being a pro-hero isn't a one-man gig, after all. 

You still have your Thursday nights free to spend them with Bakugo. Your accident seems to bring the two of you incredibly closer, and to the few onlooking pros that saunter inside, it's too close. You scrunch up your nose in laughter. You slap at his chest in your fit of giggles as his arms instinctively wrap around your waist and pull you closer, your head falling to his chest. You're laughing so hard that it's hard to breathe and you're nearly choking. “Woah there, honey. ‘M not that funny.”

You stop laughing, expression turning serious in a millisecond that it's nearly concerning until your voice is barely above a whisper, “Stop calling me honey. I don't think you're aware of what it does to me.”

For a moment, Bakugo’s eyes widen at your openness before they share the same darkness that yours have been growing. “I wasn't, but now that I am, I think I'll just abuse that little info.”

— 

Maybe Bakugo’s alright with this period in his life after all. Being able to say that he's an experienced man, where despite his long days of pro-hero work, he's managed to keep his dick wet through it all. It means he knows how to please someone of your caliber. 

He's a big man, despite the pudge that's grown on him. He can't workout as much as he used to, but picking you up? You're light as a feather. 

The moment he got you through his front door, he couldn't wait any longer. He needed you in a way he's never felt with any other woman. The taste of your lips don't compare to the plenty of one night stands he's had. He's got you in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist as he pushes you against the door. The tent in his pants continues to form, rubbing against you as slick sticks to the crotch of your panties. 

“Fuck,” he curses deliriously, pulling away from the kiss with a hiss. His eyes are low and hazy, filled with wanton lust. “Bet ya taste so good. Been wanting to try ya for a while.”

“Oh really?” You giggle, eyes sparkling in interest. You buck your hips into him, feeling his cock against your core. He's pulling at the hem of your shirt, helping you out of this damned hero costume. “Since when?”

“Dunno,” he shrugs with a pant. With the top of your suit gone, you do him the favor of kicking off your pants. Leaving you nearly bare and for him ogle. His eyes are glued to your chest, getting rid of your bra next to play with your dark and pert nipples. Your breasts are perky, ready to be sucked on. He takes a nipple in his mouth before remembering what else he wanted to say. “Since ya started stalking me at the bar.”

“Wait,” despite the sexual situation you find yourself in, your eyes widen at the sheer fear that he knew that you had watched him. That he had known the small fact that you had memorized his scheduled visits to Sakura's Blossom. You push against his chest, pulling him away from your breasts. “You knew that I knew all this time?” 

“Feel like we're no longer on the same page here,” he furrowed his eyebrows to clarify, fingers trailing to pinch at your nipples. “But since ya started yer regular visits.”

“Oh,” your breath of relief turns into a whine when he twists rather harshly. 

“Y’were watching me from before?” His gaze becomes stern in a teasing manner, moreso like he's bemused by the fact. 

“Used to patrol right next to Sakura's,” you shamelessly admit, gnawing on your bottom lip as you start to grind against his cock. It has him remembering why you're here, what he wants to do to you. “A hot spot for pro-heros— a villain's bound to hit some day.”

“Oh, shut up already,” he finally huffs out. 

“You're the one asking the—” You squeal as Bakugo flips you upside down, feeling his nose press into your mound. He takes a deep inhale that you can feel. His hold on you gets tight, a visceral grip that will have your sides aching by the morning. “Oh, gosh! Dynamite!”

Your damn dedication to calling him his hero name pisses him off, especially in a position like this. “Don't call me Dynamite when I'm tryna eat yer pussy.” The slap to your ass echos the room, you swallowing a breath of air in your shock. “It's Bakugo or Katsuki from this point on, got it?”

He slaps your ass again at your silence. “Ya got it?”

“Fuck,” you finally mewl out. “Yes, Bakugo.”

His cock twitches, loving the way you say his last name. He smirks. “I'll make sure that I have it engraved in your head when I'm done with you.”

“Didn't you tell me to shut up alr— oh…” 

You feel his tongue against your covered mound, pressing into the fabric before the sound of sucking. He can taste you through it. He can taste your juices through the cotton of your panties with no shame at all. His eyes flutter shut as he feels your hands reach for his hips and dig your nails into him. They go through his shirt and into his skin as you can't help but roll your pelvis into him. 

You can feel the blood rush to your head, but fuck are you enjoying this. His desperation to taste you at his front door, not bothering to get you down on a bed. More juices pool from you as you gain more stability in this position, bucking your hips up to his mouth as you feel his teeth graze your skin, catching the hem of your panties and tugging it to the side. The cold conditioned air that breathes down on your core is brutal and in the darkness, Bakugo can see your pussy shine in its wetness. “Shit, I’ve gotcha all to myself, don't I? You're just mine for the taking.”

Your hands traverse to his bottoms, unzipping it as you nod. “‘m all yours, Bakugo.”

You pull down his pants as best as you can, palming his cock through his underwear and hearing a slew of curse words fall from his lips. “Yer gonna be the death of me.”

Finally do you reach in his pants, pulling out his cock. He's been losing a lot of things due to age lately, and he's grateful that an erection isn't on the list yet. Hard and prominent and all for you, he can only see so much, trying to get a good look at your face from the position, but it's hopeless, he can only feel how good you are. With one hand, he uses it to wrap around your waist tightly before using the other to rub two fingers between your folds, hissing when he feels your tongue against his tip. He spreads your slick down your pussy, making your lips all messy of yourself while he tries to remain steady as you take him in.

You can't help but moan, feeling yourself pulsate at the idea of sucking Bakugo off. How the sheer thought of it makes your pussy pool with heat. Legs wrapped around his head, you yearn for more than just his fingers as they dance around your entrance, his middle and index digits a mess. Your heart races as your tongue swirls around his tip, tasting his precum against your lips. You salivate, letting your spit lubricate his cock as you use a hand to hold it up. You shuffle to get your tongue at the base, the tip of it touching the juncture of where his cock and balls meet. You feel a vein just right there and it seems to be a sensitive spot for dear old Bakugo, causing him to shudder the moment you touch it. 

“Keep doing that n’ I'm gonna cum like a little boy,” he warns you. And you were going to keep at it and play the part of a dirty little vixen until you feel his wet muscle at the center of your nectarine. Lips around your clit, Bakugo groans around it, tasting you from the fruit itself. It surely keeps you occupied as you momentarily lose focus. You grip around his base, squeezing it and causing his fingers to dig deep into you. Whimpering at the pain, it jolts you out of your haze as you bring his cock to your lips. It's a ravenous torture between the two of you, trying to bask in your pleasure while trying to grant the other some as well. 

Still, you mewl and moan around his length, eyes sparkling in delight as you swallow his shaft. Cheeks hollowing as his pink, cut top rests on your tastebuds. Pre continues to leak from him, a translucent mess that slides down with ease. He feels so good inside your mouth, and you can feel his legs flexing and contracting at what you're administrating. A true, dirty vixen you are.

But, Bakugo's no better to you. Lapping at your pussy like a starved man, both of you are so eager to give to each other. He tastes the intricacies of your pussy, mapping it out with his tongue as his grip around your waist tightens and his free hand is back to join the party. A thumb pressing down on your clit, building up pressure and has your legs tightening around his head. Around his length, your moans become more high-pitched at the overstimulation, feeling your legs tense then untense. 

Your face is a mess, saliva dripping down to your forehead due to this upside down state. Your head beginning to hurt but you don't have the heart to tell Bakugo to stop because you don't want to. It's bound for him to change positions soon, but gosh, you want to delve in this a little longer. You continue to bob your head, the wet sounds mixing with your slurps further sounding the room. You become daring, letting go of your other hand around him and putting all of your faith into Bakugo. Your upper body dangling upside down as your other free hand travels to cup his balls, shortly remembering that spot he oh-so warned you about. 

You fondle them, greeted back to that jerk of his leg as his waist’s now pressed to the door. He momentarily pulls off of you to curse, “Shit.”

However, he never corrected you or tried to get you to stop, simply speeding up his attack on your clit to receive a close response as well. It works, but you remain focus as your mouth is off him for a second as you stroke his length, finally taking in just how big he is and how you truly weren't able to fit all of him in. All this time, working with an aged cock that could destroy you. It has you whimpering out to yourself at the anticipation of your pussy being stretched out by him. His cock glistens even with such a lack of light, your spit being the work of that. Your strokes are quick and languid, mirroring his reign on your clit, causing your hips to jerk and twitch every so often. 

Your actions falter every once in a while, but you're so determined. You're always so determined, that's what Bakugo adores about you. Even as a sidekick that often fucked up, you had your own way of showing it. You were just like him in a way, stubborn as a mule to get what you want. You just needed to learn how not to give in to people when they bite harder. And here he is, gently nibbling down on your folds, but you refuse to back down, determined to make him come undone. 

You fondle his balls, adjusting his cock up, going to that dangerous place that he warned about. A chaste kiss before your lips are fully around it and you're suckling on one of his sacs. In this position, you can truly get a good whiff of him. There's a musk, but don't be mistaken, he's sure to clean himself. It's not overpowering as you can still smell the minty hint of whatever brand of bar soap he's using. The combination has your senses going to overdrive as your legs tighten immensely around him for a moment. 

That typical clench of your stomach goes ignored as you're determined to make Bakugo release. You're unforgiving and relentless, stroking his cock as mouth tries to fit his second sac of balls in. Your moan has become a melody to his ears as his head hits the door and he tries to remain focused on your pussy. She's so damn close, he grunts to himself. Don't give into her just yet. However, it's easier said than done when he feels his cock twitching in your hold and he moans. Sending vibrations straight to your core, your achievement and his response is enough for that band in your stomach to finally snap as he lets go. 

You both gift each other your essence. You, you're the forbidden nectar in the garden of Eden, your juices so natural that it tastes sweet. There's a tang to it that has him quickly intoxicated as he finds himself addicted. Him, he's like a refreshing taste of cold water on a hot summer day. You're feeling nothing but delight when his white cum shoots down your throat and you have no choice but to swallow everything— you wouldn't dare spit anything out. 

You both need a breather to come back to the present. You're still stuck in this now painful position as your head comes to throb and you have to croak out Bakugo's name to remind him. Slowly but surely does he get you back on the right side up before finally taking a step away from the door. His legs work like muscle memory as his lips plant on yours, swallowing away the pain as he makes a beeline for his bedroom. Pushing open the door and not bothering to have it shut, he hurries to put you down on the bed. He still has you in his arms when he does, grinding his still hardened length against your pussy. All traces of your release disappeared on his tongue, but you can still taste the remnants of yourself, as you both can taste each other. 

Now that you're on a bed, you feel yourself slowly checking out as the pain is slowly alleviated by your comfort. Bakugo mutters some stuff that you couldn't care less about, only mewling and nodding in agreement until you feel his hand grab your face, squeezing your cheeks. It's hard to focus on him, to stare right back into his eyes. 

“Awww,” he coos. “Is it all too much for my baby?” He noticed your disorientation immediately, planting a chaste kiss on your lips as his eyebrows knit with concern. “She doesn't want to stop, does she?”

Immediately comprehending that, you shake your head. “Mmm, no,” you squeak out. However, Bakugo's lips drop to your ears, whispering out, “are ya sure? We can always—”

“Yes— yes, I'm sure,” you persist. “I need you, Bakugo. Would you not help a woman in need?”

He doesn't like the way you stammered out that yes, still peering down at you. However, your eyes have significantly steadied now and that same brand of determination is back on your face to finally convince him. He finally caves with a barely audible ‘okay.’ He dives down to meet you for another kiss, hands roaming to grip your legs. So focused on the kiss, you're taken aback when he hikes on leg up, your knee touching your shoulder. His cock is perfectly slotted in between your folds before he does the same with your other leg. 

“Bakugo,” you groan at this change of position. He claims that you'll be the death of him, but you beg to differ. Your soiled panties are still on you, which Bakugo is sure to get rid of in a hurried haste, pulling so hard at it that it rips. You gasp, calling out his name once more, but he dismisses your complaint. “You'll be fine.”

You feel so exposed with your body pressed like this, in the dark with Bakugo looming over you. His cock slides in between your folds, wet sounds running through the air. You don't know what he's waiting for, so you do the work for him, wanting him to ravish you just as much as he does. That familiar grip returns to his cock and before you can press his head to your entrance, he slaps your hand away. You whine in protest, but he pushes you. “Have some patience, honey. Good things take time.”

The return of that damn nickname he's given you. Once used sarcastically, now one that he's going to use to his advantage because of you— all because you couldn’t keep in your attraction for him anymore. You should be grateful for it. It's landed up in this position, but now he always has the upperhand over you, knowing just how to make you cave. 

You clench around nothing, feeling his shaft go in a back and forth rhythm as it barely presses down on your clit how you want it to. You whine nonetheless, hoping that Bakugo will pity your desperation and give in. “Bakugo, please… I need you in me. Need to know how you feel.”

One hand comes to grab your face roughly, squeezing your cheeks to make your lips pucker up. “Oh, is that right? You need to know how I feel inside you? Or what, hm?” He challenges. “Ya gonna die without knowing.”

You nod, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. “I just might.”

He can't help but chuckle at that. “Yer cryin’, again? Yer tears don't work on me anymore, honey. They just egg me on. Love to see ‘em now. Know that I've got ya all desperate for me.”

“Don't care,” you mewl. “I want you inside me.”

He keeps up at it, gliding his cock between your folds and letting his shaft collect your juices. You're so fucking wet for him that all he wants to do is bury himself deep inside you and finish, but he practices what he preaches and holds himself back. “Is this how you are with all the men you sleep with? Such a whiny baby. Rumored to be the next number one hero, a crybaby for cock?”

He taunts and teases you, pushing out his bottom lip as he tuts. “It's almost cute.”

From all your whining and desperate begging, you don't realize that Bakugo’s now slotted the tip of his cock at your entrance. It's not until his head is inside and he's deep inside you that you fully register his intrusion, a loud sob coming from your lips as he stretches you out. But just as quick as you were shocked, moans slip easily from your mouth as you drag out just how you're feeling. 

Watching you—watching how your eyes are blazed with a fire that's filled with wanton lust. He's never seen it with everyone else and he quickly realized that you've gotten him under your spell and he's so deep in it that he doesn't want to retract. It's as though you're a succubus, a demon that feeds off of lust, with the way the corner of your lips turn upwards in a smile. Your hands come to wrap around his neck and Bakugo puts all his weight on you, causing him to go deeper in you. 

You feel the tip of his cock kiss your cervix, pain mixing in with pleasure. Your back’s barely able to arch against the bed under Bakugo’s heavy weight, but your nails digging into the nape of his neck is enough to communicate just how you feel. As do your words.

“Ba— Katsuki, you feel so good,” that sudden shift from his last to his first name nearly has him cumming inside you too early. The creaking of the bed halts for a moment as his crimson red eyes look deep into yours. With his stillness, it makes you focus on the length that's against your walls, stretching you out. “Yeah, I think I prefer you calling me Katsuki better. Be a good girl and keep at it, will ya?”

It sounds like a request, but in this position, you know it’s a command. You don’t have a chance to respond, not that you were going to. He’s thrusting into you once more, but this pace is more brutal than before as he sits up and drills into your pussy without any remorse. He pushes down on your legs, making them ache as they press against your breast, making them more accentuated. Your moans become more high-pitched as you cry out his name— his first name. 

“That’s it,” he grins, maniacally. “Call my name out like the dirty little slut you are. Let my neighbors know who’s making you feel this good.”

One of your hands drag to cling to his bicep, making marks in a matter of seconds as your juices spill out of you. You’ve never had anyone else make you feel the way that Bakugo does. How he easily takes control and dominates you. With him, he lets you know that while you run the streets of Tokyo, Japan, you’ll always be underneath him. The stinging pain that runs through your lower body is delicious and while you know you’ll bear the consequences in the morning, you bask in the pleasure it secretes now. 

In this moment, you become delirious as your imagination becomes active as you can see a future with Bakugo, but is that what he wants? Hands back on his neck, you tug him down to you. “Katsuki… need you.”

“You’ve already got me, honey,” Bakugo kisses the corner of your lips, pace slowing by a pinch. “What more do you need?”

“Kiss me,” you whisper, eyes becoming glossy with wanton need. Something snaps within the both of you, a sudden shift that changes the trajectory of your relationship with him forever. Time stops for a moment before his lips are on you— lust turning into something more, something fatal. No longer is he pistoning inside you to oblivion, but holding you with more care. Precise thrusts that still get the work done to having you call out his name without a care in the world. 

He’s hitting that special spot inside of you, memorizing the sounds you make just for him. That familiar coil comes back and you bring Bakugo closer to you. “G’nna cum. Please make me cum, Katsuki.”

“Anything for you, honey.” He helps you ride out your orgasm, slowing down as he brings your legs to finally lay on the bed. Not too long after does he empty himself inside you, painting your insides white before pulling out completely. He makes eye contact with you. This. This is the perfect time, your mind tells you. 

Getting your breath steady, you peer up at him. “I never did thank you, y’know.”

“For what?” he grunts, sitting up on the bed, completely towering over you as you stay in place. Climbing over you, he’s reaching for something. Shortly after, he tosses you a water bottle that you catch with ease. 

“Just…” you sigh. “For everything.” 

—

FIVE MONTHS LATER 

"Spiderweb has had such a spectacular come up. From working under retired pro-hero, Dynamite, as a sidekick to being endorsed into a hero. She’s climbed the roster faster than anyone else has and while she had her stumbling moments, she came back to kick butt and prove to Japan that she is the hero they need!"

"We’ve managed to get a video with the pro-hero themself about the announcement of her current hero ranking—" Shortly, they pull up separate footage of a next reporter before it shows you.

“Spiderweb, please tell us how it feels to currently be the number one hero of Japan!”

The camera pans to you, your eyes lighting up in delight. You’re panting heavily standing outside in the hot sun, evidently just finishing a case. You have to catch your breath before your attention is fully turned to the camera. “It feels… It feels unbelievable, y’know? I mean, I’ve heard the rumors about it, but for it to actually come true? It’s only been a couple years into becoming a pro-hero and it feels like it’s something I don’t deserve, but I know for sure that I’ve worked my ass off— sorry for the language, kids!

“I’m just really grateful,” you continue your rambling. “I’m really grateful for everyone who believed in me and put their faith in me, especially my old mentor, the man that endorsed me himself. Dynamite, if you’re watching this! I know I’ve already told you this already, but thank you! I couldn’t have gotten here without you. I love— I mean, I’m forever in your favor.”

It’s a Thursday night and he’s not at the bar this time. Instead, he’s at his place, getting ready to head to yours. He’s lucky he kept the television on to hear you say that. He’ll certainly tease you later for it, but now, a sense of pride washes over him.  “That’s my girl.”

( author's note. ) this was only supposed to be 5k words, but gosh i had so much fun writing this. you guys have no clue.

[nyyxqueen]

Y'know it's so weird going into my activity page and seeing that people are following me.

It's wild man

People are listening to my pointlessly screaming at the void

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Anyone else feel like they’ve been walking around in a lucid dream since they were born?

[medicaltechnician]

idk if its the late nights and lack of activity (my own fault) but i’ve been feeling like i need out of this friend group more and more. Idk what it is (i do, it just seems… petty and stupid. And just seems like a me problem not a them problem.)

problem ofc is that, there are a couple people i like as friends in the group. hell fuck i love them all and don’t want them out of my life completely. sort of wish that I didn’t have my ex out of my life completely. Maybe one day we can reconnect. But we both have to be more mature for that. We both need more growth. No idea how he’s doing.

I feel like I villified him a bit in my brain. Which was urged by my closest friend. Who I trust with my life so. (this was after I confessed maybe I have problems with him to to this friend. which was valid). Idk, people approach things differently. And I agree’d with my friend.

I think its a problem with how I talk. I guess I come off in absolutes? Idk. I give off, strange vibes when I talk. This tangent makes no sense to anybody but me.

But also, can’t just, drop em? They’re sort of my only friend group. It ain’t like I get out and about. I don’t mesh well with people. It sort of sucks that the most I’ve meshed well with is my ex, my bestie, and another friend. My ex is no contact so fuck me ig. My bestie is pre-occupied with other things and personally, I feel we’ve drifted a bit. I’m not too bothered by it? It’s neither of our faults, just taking different life paths. Also going from complete co-dependency to what we have now. What we have now is probably just normal friendship lmao. And then the other friend is a couple years younger than me, so obviously they do have their set of friends within their age group. Which I encourage them hanging out, like obviously. I see myself as more of an older brother figure ig. Try to part some wisdom I’ve gained. Then theres my crush and obviouslt rhats a mess, I wish I never had a crush on him so we could have a normal relationship. I wish I could have friends?? Idk. what am I talking bout?

So, yeah. I need to get out of the house more often so I can meet like-minded people (in the creative and path sense) so I can actually do the things I want to do. I don’t even need to be a producer or lead or director. Fuck I’m happy starting from the bottom and working my way up. (Ideal situation is mainly being on equal footing. I want people to give their input and ideas to my ideas, and vise versa)

[a-passing-storm]

I have forgotten that it is actually kind of Therapy Homework for me to post things online!

[toadtoru]

contents: smut, minors and ageless blogs do not interact! mean choso x reader, reader has a pussy but otherwise no gender descriptors, overstimulation, p in v, petnames (baby), multiple orgasms

Choso gets mean when he gets into it.

At first, he’s so nice, so sweet. Whispering praises into your ear, slowly pushing his thick fingers into you, scissoring you open.

He swallows your small gasps with his kisses, moaning into your mouth. He fully gets off on your pleasure, even though his aching cock lays neglected in his boxers, precum slowly darkening the fabric.

He watches you with adoration, cooing about how well you take him. “You look so hot like this, I can’t believe this is happening right now,” When you whine for more, he immediately obliges, pushing yet another digit into you, causing you to grip his shoulders, mouth shaping into a small o.

“Choso, I need your dick inside me now or I might die,” you gasp, grabbing his wrist and slowing his ministrations. Choso whines at your authoritative tone, and it’s with shaky hands that he pulls off his boxers and aligns himself with your sloppy cunt.

“Fuck, okay, let me just, fuuuuck–“

Once he’s inside of you, all bets are off.

Legs pressed to your chest, squished under Choso’s weight, you’re used like his personal fleshlight.

His cock plunges in and out of you, stretching you out and molding you after him, repeatedly hitting your g-spot in a way that makes white-hot pleasure burn through your body and your toes curl.

You cry out, arching your back into him, as Choso burries his flushed face in your neck and whines at the way your pussy grips him so tightly.

“Shit, baby, you’re perfect,” he moans, tone slightly high-pitched. You grip his shoulders, nails raking down his back as you attempt to ground yourself, to stay sane with the way his hips smack against yours, heavy balls slapping against your ass.

Right as you think you’re gonna break, Choso’s thumb reaches down to rub firm circles into your clit, immediately hurtling you over the edge. You cum with a cry, walls clenching down on his cock.

Choso’s pace doesn’t relent on you as he looks at you with a smile, slowly luring you into his trap.

“You can take one more, right baby? For me,” he coos, and you gape at the man who’s usually so sweet to you.

“Cho, ‘m gonna break if you–“ Your eyes immediately roll back, as he finds your clit again, rubbing messy circles. Your hand flies down to grab his wrist, but he merely takes your hand and pushes it into the sheets beside you. Your other hand tangles in his hair, eyes rolling back as you come again.

Black spots dot your vision, mouth opening in a silent scream as your legs begin to shake.

Choso watches every reaction, feeling his core tighten at the way your gooey walls flutter around his cock.

“There you go, baby, thaaat’s it,” he whispers, kissing the tears rolling down your cheeks away. It’s not long before he comes too, white robes of hot cum filling you up.

His hips stutter as he fucks you both through your highs before he stills, letting your legs drop to your waist as he practically collapses on top of you.

You lay there, catching your breaths before you slap his back lightly. “You’re so mean, Cho!” you say and Choso grins, kissing your cheeks.

You can feel his cock inside you, still fully erect and you gasp. “How are you still hard?” you whine and Choso kisses you all over your face.

“Can’t help it, you’re so hot,” he complains, hips experimentally grinding against yours. A strangled moan leaves you at the oversensitivity.

“Fuck, Cho, slow d– dooown!”

“I thought we were just getting started, baby?”

thank you for reading!

masterlist | divider by enchanthings

[mee-op]

Facts about in-game Yuu (Twisted Wonderland):

NOTES:

This is an ongoing list and will be updated with new information. I'm not caught up w/ chap 6 and I'm not very perceptive. This list is so long because of all the people who commented/sent asks, so thank you Last but not least, some of these might be a stretch/be slightly incorrect so bare w/ me plz :] More Yuu facts [ ONE / TWO ] <- not mine

They've been good friends with Heartslabyul ever since Book 1.

They're forgiving/don't hold any bad blood with the people who've overblotted (at least on the outside).

According to the Harveston event, they can play the flute.

They don't like mentioning that they might return to their world (Deuce's Wishing Star vignette).

Many people consider them a "goody-two-shoes" (Leona, Ruggie).

A good listener.

Based on Malleus' interactions with them, Yuu talks to him a lot more off-screen as he states that he values their opinions.

Loves Grim to hell and back.

It's implied that Yuu invites Malleus over frequently enough that he visits unprompted.

They can be snarky and brutally honest when they're pushed into it.

Comes up with stupid plans that nobody believes will work but it somehow does.

They're insecure about not having any magic.

They want to be able to help their friends.

Has a sense of self-preservation.

Does not actively seek out danger (*cough* om mc *cough*).

They've cleaned up Ramshackle since living there, however, it still looks "abandoned & ancient" on the outside.

Crowley doesn't give them more money than "needed".

Silver states that Yuu is good with swords (PE Uniform).

Both Jamil and Silver seem to think that Yuu is somewhat weird/strange.

They don't know much about mushrooms (Floyd's Camp Vargas vignette).

They're very patient.

Used to be afraid of ghosts until they got to Twisted Wonderland.

They adapt to new/difficult situations quickly and calmly.

They don't complain much.

Very much so the silent type.

The audience doesn't really see anyone helping them out with their situation, so I assume they fix most of their problems themselves.

They don't have any memories of the Great Seven before coming to Twisted Wonderland.

Fluctuates between being observant and not noticing really basic stuff.

Doesn't hesitate to say cheesy things.

Keeps calm in harsh situations.

They know how to play a blowing horn (White Rabbit Event).

Good with instruments.

Not a very good singer (NRC Uniform).

It's implied that they have high stamina.

They're interested in horseback riding and wants to play soccer with Sebek (PE Uniform).

They recommend a few books to Sebek, implying that they read in their free time.

They're short in comparison to Floyd (he calls them Shrimpy).

Grim comments that they're shorter than Vil.

Crowley mumbles that Yuu looks effeminate.

They're a bit of a romantic since they seem to often ask about love stories/fairy tales (Epel & Jade chats).

They have a habit of poking, tugging, tickling and just touching people in general. This is proven through the Home Screen character interactions, so their love language seems to be physical touch.

They get scared easily but is bad at scaring others (Halloween voice lines).

Vil notes that their uniform is baggy.

Malleus says that Yuu has gotten better at dancing (Masquerade Event).

It's implied that Yuu is good/decent at cooking since they have to make meals for both themself and Grim every day.

Yuu is decent at basketball (Ace Halloween).

Deuce remarks about a tiny piece of furniture in Ramshackle and asks if it's for Grim, meaning Yuu makes small furniture for him.

They're a good photographer.

Takes part in photography competitions (Rook Port Fest).

It's implied that Yuu carries their ghost camera everywhere because Crowley constantly makes them record events.

It's said that the game cards are actual photos that Yuu took with the ghost camera. [I don't know if this is true but a lot of people have said so]

Most, if not all the characters tell Yuu to hurry up when choosing a class, which suggests that they're indecisive.

Ace, Deuce and Cater tell Yuu to relax during classes or else they'll run out of energy.

Jack says that he got tips from Yuu while he was working in Monstro Lounge, implying that Yuu might've worked in customer service before (Book 3).

According to Grim, they have a hard time saying no to people, but when they absolutely need to-- they're very serious and a bit intimidating. "You're a real sap sometimes, you know that? Then again, when you bare your teeth it's no joke."

While they won't say no to helping others, they prefer to keep to themselves and avoid drama.

Yuu is sometimes a bit distrustful of Ace and thinks he's tricking them if he offers to do anything nice (2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

It doesn't take much to make them happy. (Deuce & Idia 2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

They became nervous when Riddle invited them to a salon for their birthday. Riddle response saying "I'll be right there with you, and will instruct you in etiquette every step of the way."

They're competitive in class-- at least when it comes to Jack (2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

They took chess lessons to try and beat Leona in a match (2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

For their birthday, Yuu asks Azul to get something that's supposedly hard for an average collector to acquire.

They're surprised when Kalim gifts them a pop-up card for their birthday.

They own a pair of fingerless gloves (gifted by Epel).

They personally invited Vil over for their birthday party and made sure to have healthy food options for him.

Not very close with Idia.

Owns a glass tumbler that reads 'Happy Birthday!' (gifted by Ortho).

Lilia gives them a CD with his screamo performances.

They were gifted so many presents on their birthday that they had trouble carrying the gifts around. (Malleus 2024 Player Birthday Greetings).

[pin-k-ink]

WORTH THE WAIT⋆✦⋆ hinata shoyo

synopsis ➸ back in high school, hinata couldn’t muster the courage to confess to you. but after a few years in brazil, he’s come back ready to get what he wants—and this time, he’s not shy about it

tags ➸ implied mutual pining, male masturbation, dirty talking, nipple play, exhibitionism but nobody sees anything, dry humping, implied virginity loss, unprotected sex, fingering, hair pulling, praise kink, squirting, thigh riding

wc ➸ 7.2k

note ➸ did i do it right @4unnyr0se

Hinata felt his heart stutter the instant his gaze landed on you seated next to Tadashi in the arena stands. An almost overwhelming rush of nostalgia washed over him, dredging up vivid memories of countless stolen glances and flustered interactions with you throughout high school.

Back then, he could barely string a coherent sentence together without feeling flustered if you so much as smiled in his direction. Even hearing your bright laughter echoing through the gym had a way of completely short-circuiting his brain and reducing him to a useless puddle of disaster.

But now? Now Hinata's reaction took an entirely different form as he shamelessly drank in the sight of you. His eyes roamed hungrily over the soft curves accentuated by your outfit, mouth going dry as he committed every detail to searing memory. Just the mere suggestion of those legs currently concealed beneath fabric of your dress made something hot and molten unfurl in the pit of his stomach.

Swallowing hard, Hinata forcibly dragged his gaze upwards before he could descend too far down that particular rabbit hole of temptation. Only to find himself utterly transfixed by the slightly stunned yet undeniably intrigued look shining back at him from your wide eyes.

You didn't look away or shrink beneath his blatant perusal. No, you held his heated stare steadily, lips parting around the faintest of shaky exhales that made Hinata's mouth water hungrily in response.

Of course you would react this way, all confused but undeniably curious about the changes written across his body after so long apart. He couldn't exactly blame you—not when he still had vivid memories seared into his brain of you stretched out in various states of undress during so many of their video calls, completely unaware of just how utterly you drove him to distraction.

Like that one time in Brazil when you'd insisted on catching up immediately after waking up, still soft and rumpled from slumber. He could still picture every tiny yawn and sleep-warm murmur so clearly, chest constricting as your oversized tee dipped lower on one smooth shoulder with each shift, nipples pressed against the thin fabric.

Back then he'd nearly combusted on the spot, reduced to nothing but a stammering mess again as pink patches of heat began trailing hotly up his neck, cheeks burning as his gaze hungrily traced the vee of skin exposed between those fluttering sheets. He'd spent the entire video call fantasizing about sliding past the thin barrier of cotton, allowing his starved hands to roam your sleep-warmed curves in a sizzling glide...

And the entire time, you'd been utterly oblivious to the effect you were having on him with each tiny, intimate gesture. Just blissfully unaware of the lust coiling hot and heavy in Hinata's abdomen as he fought with everything in him not to lose control over the suggestive feast currently parading across his screen.

It was only when you sleepily tugged the collar aside again, breath hitching on a whine of annoyance that exposed even more of that soft, unblemished swell for his hungry gaze, that Hinata finally broke. He'd choked out a strangled excuse about losing signal before fumbling off-screen, your bemused voice echoing through his throbbing skull as he frantically grappled with the painfully hard cock already straining against his sweats.

Even thousands of miles away, you'd had that sort of effortless power over him. An almost cruel ability to drive him to the brink of feverish desperation without even trying, until he burned through his self-control and surrendered to rutting into his own fist with broken moans slipping past his gritted teeth.

And now, here you were again—finally within reach after so long spent being tormented only by memories and his own wandering hands. Hinata's entire body felt like it was burning up from the inside out as he drank you in properly for the first time in ages, utterly powerless before your presence once more.

He needed to get a grip on himself before things spiraled completely out of control here in public. But between the sight of you staring back at him with similarly ravenous interest—as if you could sense the depraved hunger draping over his every thought—Hinata didn't know if he stood a chance in hell.

"Shoyo?" you breathed out at last, sounding just as dazed and stunned as he felt right now. "You...you look so..."

'So different', he could practically hear the unspoken end to your observation hanging in the air. Hinata swallowed thickly, hands flexing compulsively at his sides as if to restrain the part of him aching to reach out and finally get his hands on you at long last.

"Yeah, you could say that," Hinata rumbled out in response, feeling his throat tighten as you continued drinking in his new physique with open appreciation.

Only you didn't seem to realize just how molten your innocent once-over was making his stare in return. The way your gaze trailed over the contours of his arms and chest - mapping every ridge and shift with rapt interest - it was like you were completely oblivious to how your simple perusal alone had heat unfurling in his lower belly already.

"Wow Shoyo, I can't believe how...built you got!" you exclaimed with that same vibrant, sunny enthusiasm he remembered so vividly.

Hinata swallowed hard, forcibly dragging his own lingering stare away from the gentle swell of your breasts straining against your top. He really needed to get a grip before this quickly spiraled out of control. The scorching temptation to crowd into your personal bubble and yank you flush against his body—letting you feel the evidence of his reaction first hand—nearly overwhelmed his strained control.

"Guess all that training down in Brazil really paid off in more ways than one," Tadashi interjected with a pointed look that clearly said 'back off' loud and clear.

Leave it to your brother to play chaperone without even realizing it. Hinata shot him a grateful nod, refocusing on maintaining an outward veneer of friendly casualness even as indecent temptation blazed through his thoughts.

"Yeah for sure, the weather alone was no joke," he managed in response, scratching the back of his neck absently. "Pretty sure half my gains just came from lugging beach equipment around all day in that type of heat."

You giggled at that, leaning forward with your chin resting on one palm as you studied him intently - completely missing the way Hinata's chest expanded on a sharp inhale. This close, he could almost taste the light floral notes of your shampoo intermingling with that intoxicating natural musk he'd fantasized about nuzzling between so many times...

"Well either way, it looks good on you Shoyo," you hummed, causing his stomach to swoop dangerously. "Those poor Brazilian ladies must have been fainting all over the place thanks to these muscles."

You reached out as if to teasingly prod at his bicep, but Hinata aborted the contact at the last second on instinct - afraid of just how incendiary your innocent touch might actually feel after he'd spent countless nights fucking into his fist while imagining those same fingers wrapped around his aching cock already.

"Hah, well you know...gotta practice some restraint now and then," he deflected clumsily, ignoring the look Tadashi shot him at the obvious evasion.

Inside, however, Hinata could already feel himself steadily unraveling just from this relatively tame interaction. The fantasies he'd nurtured and refined over his years in Brazil were swiftly taking on feverish new life thanks to your close proximity and utter obliviousness to them.

How many times during those long, aching nights in his tiny apartment had he imagined wrapping your lush curves around him just like this? Grinding himself against your body with broken groans while chasing after the slick, velvety cunt he'd been cruelly denied for years on end now?

God, you had no idea how desperately he craved the sensation of sinking into your softness until his hips were nestled snugly against your ass, until he could finally bury his face into that sensitive spot on your neck and inhale deeply as your cunt clenched around him so tightly...

"Hinata? You okay there?" Tadashi's knowing look pierced straight through his reverie, instantly dousing Hinata's rapidly spiraling thoughts in a frigid dose of reality.

He blinked rapidly as you waved a hand in front of his face, looking equal parts amused and concerned by his sudden hazy distraction. Right, he really needed to rein this runaway lust in before it became far too obvious to you both—especially while surrounded by crowds like this.

"I'm great, just got a little spaced out there for a second!" Hinata reassured you with what he hoped was a disarming grin. "No need to worry about little old me though. I should probably, um, head back and get changed for the game soon before the coaches come hunting."

Yet even as he tried to take a polite step back, Hinata felt his resolve crumbling beneath your warm, expectant stare again. Before he could retreat entirely, his gaze dipped down to trace the gentle flare of your hips beneath the cinched fabric there. He swallowed hard while envisioning settling his palms against those tantalizing curves, tugging you forward until—

"Right, right of course!" Your bright voice thankfully pierced through his heated trance, finally allowing Hinata some semblance of reprieve. "We'll be cheering loud for you out there, so go get 'em!"

You beamed up at him beautifully, so sweetly unaware of the scorching extent he wanted to make you cheer for him behind closed doors later. Behind the innocent encouragement, however, Hinata detected the faintest flicker of the same fiery tenacity that had first drawn his obsessive attentions years before.

A silent promise that when you inevitably saw through the paper-thin barriers he currently hid behind, you would confront those long-suppressed temptations roaring between your forms with the same headstrong intensity you approached everything else in life.

And God, did the mere implication of having all that vibrant passion channeled solely towards him in the throes of writhing rapture nearly make Hinata's knees buckle completely.

"Y-Yeah," he rasped out with visible effort, fighting to regain some semblance of composure. "I should...I'll see you both after?"

The unspoken yearning dripping from those words hung heavy between your bodies like a tangible Siren's call. You simply nodded reflexively, seemingly unaware of the delirious fantasies blazing behind Hinata's burning stare now. He turned on wobbling legs and forced himself to retreat before losing the battle entirely.

Only once he was safely out of your line of sight did Hinata finally allow one trembling exhale to slip free, entire body quaking with unsated need. He could no longer deny just how badly you unknowingly affected him down to his very core. The years of separation and growth had only stoked those kindling flames into an insatiable furnace crying out for your submission now.

Well, one way or another, Hinata refused to spend another sleepless night tormenting over fevered fantasies that would forever remain a tragic fantasy. Not when the breathtaking reality of peeling you apart with his tongue and reclaiming every sweet inch of untapped paradise waited so deliciously within reach at last.

Now that the game was truly afoot between you both in earnest, he would stop at nothing to stoke your innocent curiosities into an all-consuming firestorm of mutual rapture blazing properly at long, long last.

The roar of the crowd was deafening as Hinata's teammates swarmed him in raucous celebration after their hard-fought victory. Bokuto's boisterous voice could be heard bellowing something about a "banger of a post-win rager" while good-natured slaps and jeers echoed off the walls.

Normally, Hinata would have been right in the thick of the chaos - feeding off the infectious energy and hollering along with the best of them. Tonight, however, all that background noise barely even registered past the singular focus currently demanding every iota of his undivided attentions.

Because there you were across the bustling floor, radiant smile shining brighter than the overhead stadium lights as you chatted animatedly with Tadashi. Hinata swallowed hard, unable to tear his molten stare away as you tossed your head back in unbridled laughter at something your twin said - the column of your throat completely on display and begging for the torrid worship of his mouth.

His lashes fluttered momentarily as Hinata allowed himself to fully envision crowding into your space, caging you against his solid frame as you stared up at him in breathless bewilderment. He could practically taste the dizzying cocktail of your floral shampoo and rapidly spiking arousal intermingling as his rough palms ghosted over the feminine flare of your hips possessively.

"Such a good girl for me tonight," Hinata would rumble in a rasping growl that would make you shudder. "Cheering me on so sweetly... you deserve a reward now, don’t you kitten?"

He would dip in close enough for his lips to brush against the feverish pulse in your throat as you swallowed convulsively at his bold suggestion. Hinata could almost feel the delicate shiver wracking your frame as those innocent, expressive eyes darkened with dawning temptation right before he claimed your parted mouth in a searing kiss.

Only the graze of a heavy palm against his shoulder snapped Hinata out of that delirious trance. His head whipped around to find Atsumu crowding into his space with a cocky smirk that immediately put him on edge.

"So hey Sho-kun," the blond purred in a voice like dark silk. "Looks like you already got plans for celebrating that big win judging by how you're eye-fucking Yamaguchi's sister over there."

Hinata tensed, digging deep to remain outwardly unfazed in the face of such blatantly provocative teasing. But a small, traitorous part of him couldn't deny the undercurrent of hot, thrilling validation thrumming through Atsumu's words either.

Someone else had clearly noticed the heated gazes and molten tension sizzling between your forms now. And rather than mock or judge, Atsumu seemed to practically savor Hinata's quiet infatuation in rare approval.

"Not sure what you're on about," he grumbled out gruffly, maintaining a carefully curated mask of nonchalance for appearances. "Pretty sure that's just what people look like when they're happy for their friend's success on the court."

Even as he deflected, Hinata's eyes tracked the graceful sweep of your body as you pivoted on your heel, only to find your bright gaze directed right back towards him now. The universe itself seemed to narrow down to just your smoldering forms alone as every fractured second ground to a halt between each shared inhale.

God, you had no idea just how much you tempted complete madness with those guileless eyes and softly parted lips currently burning into him from across the arena. Hinata felt himself beginning to slowly unspool the longer you held his molten stare hostage effortlessly.

Whether you realized it or not, you were rapidly fueling the fever pitch of his determination to ruin you properly before the night's end stretched on any longer. Years of quietly molded fantasies and memories culminated into this blazing inertia demanding action before it consumed every last rational fiber of his being utterly.

"She's looking this way, right at you man," Atsumu murmured in a honeyed timbre beside him, sounding alarmingly similar to the sinful voice of temptation itself now. "Don't you think it's about time to stop all this creeping around and find out if she really does have the hots for ya?"

Hinata rumbled low in his chest, more sensations than coherent words contained in the resonance vibrating across his tensed shoulders. That flame Atsumu had so accurately identified was rapidly becoming an inferno, stoking his lust higher with every passing second that your twin gazes remained tangled amidst the celebration unfolding without a single care for propriety.

He could practically see the searing outline burned into your guileless depths in that instant - the imprints of what sculpted shoulders and ridges he might unknowingly awaken your first breathless, shameless stirrings over more clearly. And the thought of defiling that remaining innocence forever with unchecked passion was nearly enough to make his restraint snap entirely.

"Shoyo! Get your ass over here already, celebratory shots time!"

Bokuto's booming voice shattered the fevered tension at last as Hinata reluctantly tore his focus away from your magnetic orbit. But not before shooting you one final smoldering look heavy with dark promise.

Beside him, Atsumu chuckled with deeply layered appreciation at the loaded exchange passing between your forms without another word necessary. Hinata responded with a subtle, predatory smirk that clearly conveyed his intent to revel in that unspoken rapport with you unrepentantly moving forward.

"Sounds fun and all, but I've got my eyes on a different kind of celebration at the moment," he murmured with thinly-veiled purpose.

Then, with each rolling step carrying fresh inertia towards your glowing silhouette lingering nearby, Hinata allowed the last crumbling shreds of hesitation to dissolve into anticipatory heat. His cock was already achingly stiff against the unforgiving fabric of his shorts by the time he reached your side - so utterly enthralled by your presence it bordered on rapturous fever.

Outwardly, he maintained a careful veneer of casual nonchalance even as his ember irises scorched over every tempting contour presently filling his peripherals. Up close once more, Hinata could smell the crisp, clean tang of citrus and jasmine radiating off your warm skin - a heady, intoxicating cocktail of purity and hidden feminine heat that made his palms itch with the overwhelming need to touch you.

"Hey sis, you about ready to—?" Tadashi started, only to freeze at the abrupt weight of Hinata's relentless stare pinning him in place.

To his endless credit, your twin didn't immediately bristle or snap into defensive mode despite certainly sensing the banked fires raging beneath Hinata's stoic mask at that moment. No, Tadashi simply studied him for several prolonged heartbeats with uncanny calculation filtering behind his eyes. Then, drawing himself upright, he cleared his throat and fixed Hinata with a long, weighted look.

"Well, I'll just leave you two to catch up then," he murmured with pointed emphasis, bestowing his trust onto Hinata's shoulders with that single declaration of space.

Hinata appreciated the courtesy and read between the lines readily. Tadashi might suspect his real motives were not nearly so benign any longer, but was withholding final judgment one way or another based on how Hinata chose to conduct himself next.

With a subtle nod of acknowledgment, Hinata turned the full force of his focus back to where you remained innocently oblivious to the battle of wills flickering between both men. God, the lack of guile currently shining in your beaming features sent fresh lances of protective fervency singing through his veins amidst the hunger.

"You were amazing out there tonight, Shoyo," you praised without reservation, smile stretching radiant and warm in a way that left him breathless all over again. "That cross-spike in the third set was seriously amazing!"

"Thanks, I worked really hard on perfecting that setup," Hinata rumbled out in a voice gone to velvet gravel that made your pupils blow fractionally wider despite your naive enthusiasm.

He drank in the subtle shiver that wracked your frame, satisfaction curling hot in his gut. Clearly while years of fantasizing had in no way prepared Hinata for reintroducing the untempered rasp of blatant desire into your dynamic, it had the intended effect all the same.

Unable to resist further, he took a prowling step into your orbit - delighting in the way your breath hitched when his solid chest brushed yours. His callused fingers itched to splay over the bare skin of your waist, desperate to feel the rapid fluttering of your pulse against his rough palms properly.

"Although I have to admit..." Hinata continued, trailing off to allow his heated amber stare to rove over you in an indolent sweep. "What really pushed me through those grueling sets tonight was the thought of having you splayed out on my bedsheets later, kitten..."

The blatant crudity of his words had your jaw dropping in a wordless 'o' of shock, though Hinata couldn't help but savor the glazed glimmer of temptation momentarily unfurling behind your innocent irises. He craved to chase that forbidden spark until it transformed into an inferno of shameless yearning matching his own finally.

"Wh—Shoyo!" you stammered out breathlessly, shrinking back instinctively as heat rushed to stain your cheeks in a delicious blush. "Where is all this even coming from all of a sudden?"

He flashed you that crooked, predatory smirk you'd never seen grace his features previously - the one that promised each unholy revelation to come was but a mere crumb trailing toward the true raptures he planned to show you soon enough. Hinata braced one broad forearm against the wall beside your head, effectively caging you into his solid frame as his mouth ghosted dangerously close enough to sow the first seeds of sweet ruin onto your parted lips.

"Don't act so scandalized, princess," the rumbling growl thrummed between your shared breaths in a seductive caress. "You and I both know you've been perched on that razor's edge of temptation every time your pretty eyes roved over my body earlier too...imagining how different things finally feel compared to everything fading memory lets you fantasize over at night alone, hmm?"

You shuddered bodily at the deliciously lurid insinuation, the mere suggestion of such forbidden knowledge rendering you momentarily mute despite his blunt provocations. Hinata savored each stunned flutter of those long lashes adoringly, already anticipating the euphoric gasps and mewls he'd soon elicit from that sweet mouth as he thoroughly unraveled your remaining innocence inch by molten inch.

"Shoyo..." you tried to interject, though the plea emerged strained and hoarse - undercut by the delirious curl of desire already blossoming between your thighs from his mere proximity alone.

"Shhh...it's okay," he hushed in a low purr that vibrated through your entire frame. "I've got you now, kitten...no more dancing around everything this fire between us has been simmering towards since the very beginning."

Hinata punctuated the declaration by nuzzling his sharp nose along the sensitive column of your throat, inhaling your floral musk like the sweetest opiate as he blazed a path towards the hollow of your ear with languid, open-mouthed worship.

"Don't worry, baby...you'll be whimpering out every filthy little fantasy you've been too ashamed to indulge properly soon enough," he rasped in dark promise against your shuddering form. "I'll ruin you in the most obscene and delicious ways imaginable until you come apart completely from my cock—"

"Shoyo!"

Your sharp cry finally snapped him out of that feverish spiral, though Hinata refused to withdraw from the intimate sprawl of your twined bodies entirely yet. Not when your pupils had already blown wide through the exquisite conflict of self-consciousness and kindling arousal set aflame between your forms at long last.

He studied you carefully for several heartbeats, relishing the sight of your chest flushing a rosy hue. You looked utterly debauched despite his relatively tame provocations so far—almost as though faint impressions of your sordid imaginings were already searing themselves across your lovely canvas for him to marvel over properly.

"Sorry, got a little carried away there, I guess," he breathed out in a gravelly rumble that had you quivering anew. "You just have no idea what it does to me seeing you so sweet and unraveled like this for once."

When you didn't immediately respond beyond a shaky inhale, Hinata pressed forward—quite literally, as he angled your conjoined bodies into an even more intimate press that trapped his rapidly swelling cock between your trembling thighs in delicious promise.

"You want to know exactly where all this is coming from, baby girl?" he husked out in a velvety baritone ghosting between your quivering lips once more. "Well, why don't you come back to my place and let me show you in the ways I've been dreaming about you for years now?"

He punctuated the depraved offer with a slow, sinuous roll of his hips that made your eyes flutter and breath hitch with unbridled shock.

"O-Oh! I, um..." You stammered breathlessly, those soulful eyes darting between his heated stare and the insistent ridge grinding up against your clothed heat. "Well your place...that sounds fun, I guess! I'd love to hear more about the game from you, you know—"

Fuck, your endearing obliviousness almost made him groan in helpless rapture right then and there. Perhaps the written invitation had been far too subtle for your innocent sensibilities to pick up on properly. This called for a more forceful approach...one that would leave no uncertainty regarding his deliciously heated intentions after you were behind closed doors together finally.

So in one fluid surge of masculine aggression, Hinata allowed his dominant arm to snake around your waist fully, hoisting you up and flush against his rock-solid frame without warning. He swallowed your adorable gasp of surprise with a molten growl, relishing the way your palms splayed out across his chest reflexively as you instinctively anchored your slight form to his much larger one.

"I'm going to fuck you senseless tonight, kitten," he grated out in low, feral promise against your parted lips, already pivoting to make for the nearest exit. "Going to make you come apart for me over and over until this sweet little body of yours knows it belongs to nobody else but me from now until eternity..."

You whimpered beautifully at that crass vow, writhing unconsciously as his free hand palmed the generous curve of your asscheek in rough possession. Hinata felt his cock throb maddeningly in response, lust blazing white-hot as fantasy after fantasy spiraled closer to searing reality at long, aching last.

"Don't try fighting this anymore," he commanded in a molten rasp dripping temptation with each vowel. "I've only just begun to show you the true depths of my depravity...but if you're a good little girl, I'll give you everything you ever fantasized about and more before the sun rises tomorrow, baby..."

With that husked benediction still shivering through your very marrow, Hinata carried you both towards sweet, ruinous rapture awaiting in the distance without another flickering shred of restraint left to tame the inferno blazing between your tangled spirits at last.

You would be his utterly - shattered, debauched, reborn amidst the ashes of your innocence tonight and any nights beyond left to come afterwards. And Hinata already knew he would revel in every shattering, breathless unraveling until the boundaries separating your forms simply ceased to exist at all in the wake of such profound, profane communion.

As soon as Hinata opened the door to his apartment, you immediately brushed past him—drawn towards the stunning floor-to-ceiling windows spanning the far wall with stars in your eyes. He was instantly hypnotized by the sway of your hips and couldn't tear his heated gaze away. He watched hungrily as you pressed against the glass, enamored by the glittering cityscape before you.

"Pretty cool view, right?" he rumbled, slowly prowling up behind your petite frame. You startled when his chest pressed against your back, instantly surrounding you in his heady masculine presence.

"Y-Yeah, it's incredible," you stammered, heart fluttering against your ribcage. "You can see everything from up here."

"Can you now?" Hinata's voice dropped an octave, that suggestive lilt making you shiver. His calloused palms skated up your bare arms unhurriedly as he leaned down, hot breath fanning over the sensitive shell of your ear. "And just what exactly did you have in mind for enjoying those...premium sights, baby?"

You bit your lip to stifle a whimper as his nose trailed along your neck - undoubtedly scenting the arousal already trickling through your veins despite your best efforts. Hinata chuckled lowly when you failed to respond beyond shaky exhales.

"Don't get all shy on me now," he crooned, warm lips brushing your pulse point. "Pretty sure I've earned the right to be a little curious after spending years dreaming about having you just like this..."

Your breath hitched as Hinata's palms smoothed over your abdomen to splay possessively across your lower belly, fingertips grazing the waistband of your skirt in clear suggestion. He rutted his hips against the swell of your ass - allowing you to feel every thick inch of his cock grinding against you insistently.

"Well?" He prompted in that same velvet-rough timbre, clearly expecting a response this time. "How about giving me a preview of exactly what's gonna make you squirm and whimper when I finally get this cute little skirt off you, hmm?"

You swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dry as the reality of Hinata's scorching attentions crashed over you in waves. His words were every bit as crude and demanding as the heated length now nudging against you with an undercurrent of commanding virility.

"I...I don't know what you—"

Hinata's hands squeezed your hips sharply, cutting off your rebuttal with a growl of displeasure that sent a frisson of need zinging straight to your core on instinct.

"None of that, kitten," he rumbled in rebuke against your hairline, strong arms like steel bands bracketing you into place. "You don't get to play innocent anymore - not when you've been teasing me without even realizing it for years now."

One of those large palms trailed upwards to palm your breast with gratifying possession, fingers toying with your pebbled nipple through the thin fabric in a way that made you gasp.

"That's it...just like that," Hinata groaned, sounding enraptured by your stunned vocalization. "God, you have no idea how bad I wanna hear you let it all out without holding back tonight. Been saving up those gorgeous little noises for me all along, haven't you, baby?"

Emboldened by your trembling silence and wide-eyed awe, Hinata spun you around to face him abruptly - pinning you against the cool glass with one of his thick thighs wedged between yours. The predatory intensity in his hooded stare left you dizzy as he caged you in with his powerful frame.

"Come on, princess...don't be shy," he murmured while rolling his hips in tantalizing emphasis, grinding his length against your abdomen in simmering promise. "Tell me exactly where you want me to start worshipping that sweet body with my hands and mouth first..."

He punctuated the lewd offer with a slow, sensual lap of his tongue along the column of your throat that had you gasping and bucking against him reflexively. You'd never seen this side of him before - this unabashed, dominant side that exuded a magnetic forcefield of pure, carnal energy.

"Sh-Shoyo," you pleaded in a breathy voice you barely recognized. "This is so embarrassing, I...I mean we've never even kissed and you're talking about—"

Your words died in a strangled moan as Hinata's mouth crashed into yours - devouring you in a hot, open-mouthed kiss that seared with unchecked hunger. His lips moved against yours insistently, coaxing your own into a messy tango of lips, tongues, and teeth as his hands skated down to grasp the back of your thighs, hiking you up onto his hips as though you weighed nothing.

"Mmph, fuck," he panted raggedly right before he latched onto your bottom lip with a lewd suck that left you both groaning. "Tastes so fucking good - I could spend the rest of my life kissing you like this and never get enough..."

The admission sent a delirious thrill of arousal coursing through you, leaving your skin tingling and blood humming with molten desire. Without thinking, you looped your arms around his broad shoulders to anchor yourself closer, grinding down on the thick erection jutting up against you shamelessly.

Hinata groaned against your mouth, rutting into the sweet friction your bodies were creating. You could feel how wet you were through the thin fabric of your panties, and judging from the way he was grinding against you like a man possessed, so did he.

"Fucking hell, kitten...you really want me to take you like this, don't you?" he husked, voice raw with lust. "Get rid of these fucking clothes and just fuck you right up against the window for the entire world to see how fucking needy you are for me?"

His filthy words left you panting and mewling, desperately clinging to him as he continued his ruthless assault on your senses. You didn't even care about the potential repercussions of being so exposed right now. All that mattered was the heat, the pleasure, and the way Shoyo was looking at you as though he wanted to eat you alive.

"I'm gonna give it to you just like that, baby...so good, so fucking deep and hard," Hinata growled, nipping at your neck with a hint of teeth. "Gonna show you what it feels like to get fucked within an inch of your life by the only man who'll ever get to see you come apart like this..."

His fingers were digging into your ass cheeks now, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh as he ground his cock against your dripping core. You were practically writhing against him, desperate for release but too lost in the moment to think about anything other than chasing the delicious friction between your bodies.

"Shoyo, please," you gasped, arching your back and grinding down harder against his thigh. You were so close, you could feel the pressure building, your body trembling with anticipation. "Please, I'm so close..."

Hinata's hand slipped between your legs, pressing against your throbbing clit through the thin fabric of your panties. His fingers rubbed slow, firm circles as his cock continued to grind against your thigh, and within seconds, you were teetering on the edge.

His forehead pressed against yours as he stared into your eyes, his expression a mixture of intense arousal and affection. "Let go, baby. I wanna see you come for me," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that resonated deep inside you.

Your orgasm hit like a tidal wave, washing over you in a white-hot rush of pleasure. Your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth open in a silent cry as the sensation consumed you. You felt Hinata's lips press against yours in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as your body trembled and shuddered in his arms.

When you finally came down from your high, Hinata's arms were wrapped around you, holding you close and stroking your back. "That was so fucking hot, baby," he murmured, kissing your temple. "You don’t know how badly I wanted to touch you like that for so long now..."

Your face flushed as the realization of what just happened hit you. You'd never experienced anything like that before - so raw and primal, but also tender and intimate. "It was...I've never..." you stammered, too embarrassed to put your thoughts into words.

If possible, you watched as Hinata's eyes darken even further with lust, his grip on you tightening possessively. "Never?" he repeated, his voice low and rough as he began to nuzzle and kiss your neck. "Fuck, kitten...you mean nobody has ever touched you like that before?"

You shook your head, biting your lip as you avoided his heated gaze. But Hinata was having none of that, his hands gripping your jaw gently but firmly as he forced you to look at him. "Don't hide from me, princess," he murmured, his lips brushing yours as he spoke. "I wanna hear you say it. Say that I'm the first man to make you feel like this..."

You felt your body responding to his words, the desire coursing through your veins again, stronger than before. "Y-Yes," you whispered, unable to resist the urge to grind against him. "Only you, Shoyo."

The words were barely out of your mouth before he was kissing you again, his hands roaming over your body as he guided you back towards the window once more. You could feel his cock straining against his pants, pressing against your belly, and a small part of you was almost afraid of how big he felt.

But there was no turning back now - not when Hinata was growling and rutting against you like a wild animal, his hands already tearing at your clothes. You didn't protest, too caught up in the moment to think about anything other than getting him naked as quickly as possible.

Your skirt and top were tossed carelessly aside, followed by your bra and panties. You stood naked before him, a flush creeping up your neck and spreading across your chest as his hungry eyes roamed over your body. You felt your nipples harden, whether it was from the sheer intensity of his gaze or the cool glass behind you, you couldn't tell.

Hinata was breathing heavily now, his pupils blown wide as he drank in the sight of you. His hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, making you gasp and arch into his touch. "So pretty," he murmured, leaning in to kiss the valley between your breasts. "And all mine..."

Your head fell back against the glass as he took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and teasing it with his tongue. You were already aching for him, desperate to feel him inside you. Your hands found his hair, threading through the soft strands as he lavished attention on your breasts, his hand sneaking down to slide between your thighs.

You gasped as his fingers parted your slick folds, circling your entrance teasingly. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, a smirk playing on his lips as he eased one finger inside, making you moan softly. He set a steady pace, working you open slowly, his mouth still sucking and nibbling at your nipples.

"More," you whimpered, rolling your hips in time with his movements. "Please, Shoyo...I need more..."

He chuckled softly, adding another finger and pumping them faster. You could feel the heat building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter as his thumb rubbed against your clit. You were panting and writhing against him now, completely lost in the sensation.

Hinata pulled back suddenly, leaving you feeling empty and needy. But before you could protest, he was tugging his shirt off, tossing it to the side and then shoving his pants down. You sucked in a breath as his cock sprang free, thick and heavy, the tip absolutely glistening with precum.

His eyes met yours, dark and full of lust. "Turn around and bend over for me, baby," he growled, his voice sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. "I wanna fuck you from behind - wanna see your pretty little ass bounce as I pound into you."

You did as he asked, bracing yourself against the window as he pressed his cock against your entrance, rubbing the tip up and down your slit. You were already so wet, you could feel your arousal dripping down your thighs. Hinata gripped your hips tightly, pulling you back onto his cock, hissing as the chubby tip slipped inside.

"Ah f-fuck," he grunted, hissing as your walls clenched around him, struggling to adjust to his size. "Taking me so well, baby..."

You moaned, trying to relax and let him sink deeper. You could feel every inch of him stretching and filling you, the burning stretch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. Hinata bottomed out, his hips flush against your ass, and the sensation was indescribable.

Your elbows buckled and you dropped forward, cheek pressing against the cool glass as Hinata began to fuck you, slow and deep, each stroke driving him deeper. You could hear his labored breathing, feel his hands tightening on your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he picked up the pace.

One of his hands slid up your spine before grabbing a fistful of your hair and tugging back. "Fuck, look at you," he growled, his voice ragged with pleasure. "So fucking perfect, taking my cock so well...just like I knew you would, kitten."

The praise only heightened the pleasure coursing through you. You could feel your second orgasm building, and Hinata's relentless pounding wasn't helping. You were a moaning, panting mess, the window fogged with your breath, his fingers tangled in your hair and your breasts pressed flush against the glass.

"You think anyone can see us from down there, baby?" Hinata's voice was pure sin as he continued to thrust into you. "How does it feel knowing anyone who looks up can see just how fucking needy and desperate you are for me?"

The thought should have made you nervous, but all you could focus on was the pleasure, the way his cock was stretching and filling you so perfectly. You were practically drooling at the thought of him claiming you like this - right here, where anyone could see.

"Yes, yes, please, don't stop," you moaned, the pressure building higher and higher until you felt like you were going to explode. "Shoyo, I'm so close...please make me cum, please..."

Hinata's hips began to piston even faster, his cock slamming into you so hard you were sure there would be bruises later. He was grunting and growling, his grip on your hair almost painful as he pounded into you, his cock hitting all the right places. You could feel your climax approaching, the tension coiling tighter and tighter, your walls clenching around him as he chased his own release.

"That's it, baby...come for me," he rasped, his breath hot against your ear. "Cum all over my cock, I wanna feel it..."

And just like that, you were tumbling over the edge, crying out as the pleasure washed over you. Your body shook and trembled, your walls fluttering and squeezing around him as you all but squirted, coating his cock in a flood of wetness. Hinata fucked you through your orgasm, his pace unrelenting, the slick sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room.

"F-fuck, kitten," he growled, his hips snapping against you, his cock hitting so deep it made you whimper. "I'm gonna cum, gonna fill you up...fuck!"

You could feel him twitching inside you, his movements becoming erratic and then suddenly he was burying himself deep, his cock pulsing as he came, painting your walls with hot spurts of his cum. He collapsed against you, his weight pushing you harder against the window, his breath hot against your neck.

For a few minutes, all you could do was catch your breath, your bodies still joined. But then you felt his large palms smooth over the underside of your knees, lifting them up and hooking them over his forearms, effectively trapping you between his body and the glass.

"Wait, what are you—oh my God," you moaned loudly, feeling his cock harden and swell inside you almost instantly. "Sh-Shoyo, w-wait a sec, I—"

"Can't," he interrupted in a guttural snarl, grinding his hips into yours as he began to slowly fuck his cum deeper inside you. "Need another, kitten. Need to feel you come on my cock one more time before we get cleaned up."

"O-one more??" you choked out, unable to believe the words coming out of his mouth. You were exhausted and still a little dazed, but the way he was thrusting into you was quickly reigniting the fire within your core.

"Mhmm," he hummed, nuzzling and kissing the crook of your neck and shoulder. "Just one more...then I'll stop."

It was a lie and you both knew it.

[catboyieejeno]

.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・★

cw: little plot, roommates/fwb to lovers (ig?), strength kink, oral (fem receiving), slightly toxic (?), jealousy, very possessive jeno, overstimulation

18+ minors do not interact !

"stop fucking moving,"

you gasp out when jeno lands a slap on your clit, unable to help but jolt at the wave of pain and pleasure that shoots through your nerves. your eyes are dazed, but you can still make out his figure between your legs. he readjusts, using his big palms to keep your thighs far apart.

"i-i'm sorry, i'm sorry," you whimper weakly. he doesn't pay any mind to your apology, though, attaching his mouth to your dripping cunt once again.

by now, you knew jeno well enough to know exactly what pushed his buttons. it's exhilarating to test his limits, because more often than not, you'd end up with a few mind-blowing orgasms as your so-called 'punishment' at the end of the night.

so earlier, when your mutual friend jaemin came over, you thought it would be ingenious to settle down on the couch beside him and swing your legs over his lap.

that was your first mistake.

"sit there and take it," jeno growls, "and stay fucking still unless you want me to edge you all night,"

you knew your little plan would bother jeno, and it very much did. it was painfully obvious on his features, from the moment you hiked up your smooth legs and laid them over jaemin's thighs.

jeno's glare was unyielding, and he had his jaw clenched so tight, you worried his teeth might crack.

purely oblivious to your antics and jeno’s sudden sour mood, jaemin didn't think twice about resting his hands on your bare skin—it was an innocent gesture, really. the problem was, when he told a joke that made you laugh, you laughed a little too hard, taking his hand into your own and sliding it up your thigh.

it was bad enough that your cotton shorts were absolutely tiny, but it was worse that they were now tucked high between your legs. by the time you settled jaemin's hand where you wanted it to be, he was no less than a few inches from your core.

that was mistake number two.

"jeno. holy shit, please,"

"you wanna tease me, huh? wanna get me jealous? you like that shit," it doesn't matter that he's mumbling into your folds and his speech is slightly slurred, you catch onto his every word.

he laps you up again and again, alternating between laying his tongue flat on your clit and wrapping his lips around it to suck on it. his hands have slid up your waist, but his elbows keep your legs pinned open.

you're, quite literally, on fire. the wet, slurping sounds of him making out with your pussy are so loud that they're deafening. every groan and growl he grants shoots vibrations through you, and there doesn't seem to be enough oxygen in the room with the way you're rigidly panting.

if he didn't let you come soon, you're pretty sure you'd pass out.

"do you want anything to drink, jae?"

jeno scoffs. since when the fuck did you call jaemin 'jae?'

"some water would be nice, thanks," the boy flashed his smile at you and you stood up, ass practically hanging out of your shorts and right in his face. you couldn't see with your back turned, but jeno caught the way his friend's eyes darted to your pretty, plump cheeks, adam's apple bobbing as he gulped.

you returned with his glass, but just before you handed it to him, you pretended to stumble, and some of the water landed right over his crotch.

was it extremely cliche? sure, but it certainly did the trick.

when you came back with a kitchen towel chanting fake apologies and just about straddled one of his legs, jeno had pretty much had enough.

but then, as if that wasn't nearly enough, you went on to wipe away at jaemin's jeans (right over his slightly swelling bulge) wearing the most infuriatingly innocent look on your face.

"i'm so sorry!"

"it's okay, really," jaemin insisted, subconsciously spreading his knees farther apart so you could continue to dry him off.

"it's really not! jeno," you called, turning and batting your eyes, "can't you lend him one of your pairs?"

the moment your gaze landed on him, you knew you were fucked.

he narrowed his eyes on you, shooting daggers your way. after letting some air out through his nose, he seethed through his tightened teeth a small "sure."

and that? that was mistake number three.

"jeno, baby, i'm so close,"

"no," he warns, "don't you dare fucking come."

"i can't help it, i'm gonna-"

he stops at once, pulling the rug clean from under you and smirking at the way you whine out, body seizing up as your orgasm is stripped away. he watches as your hole pulses incessantly with need, grinding himself into the mattress.

you cry out, "i said i was sorry," but he only tuts, shaking his head.

"you made your bed, now lie in it."

"please," you're breathless and desperate for some sort of release. so much so, that you resort to shamelessly bargaining, "i'll give you head everyday for the next week,"

"not good enough. I can fuck your mouth whenever I want,"

"jeno! i'll- fuck, i don't know," you look around as you rack through your brain, but he doesn't let you finish your thought.

"say you're mine."

"but,” you pause, eyes widening, “i-i'm not,"

jeno sticks his middle finger knuckle deep into you, stilling it there within your tight, fluttering walls, "so then, tell me. you want jaemin's mouth on you instead of mine?"

"no," you answer quickly, honestly.

he pumps into you once, then twice, slowly coaxing the confession out of you, "then say it, baby. say you're mine, that i'm the only one who makes you feel this good,"

"i'm not yours, jeno. we-we've been over this,"

"i guess you don't wanna come then, do you?" he withdraws his digit and sits up on his knees, unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants, "i don't know why you have to be so fucking stubborn all the time,"

you watch as he pulls his length out of his boxers, mouth working to gather saliva to the front of his mouth. he spits, letting it fall onto his swollen, pink tip. it's hard to hide the way you're basically squirming in anticipation, hips practically bucking up and closer to him.

"i'm sorry," you try again, voice sweet and airy. but again, he doesn't answer. he simply lines himself up with your hole and pushes in with a hiss, training his eyes on you to watch the way your jaw goes slack.

"you're a brat," he scolds, "and a tease," his hands press down on your tummy, resting his weight there. when he bottoms out, you grip his wrists, looking down to watch the way he sits on his heels with his dick buried in you.

"i'm sorr-“

"stop fucking saying that," he thrusts into you and you moan out, "you know what i wanna hear," his gradually increasing pace makes you shudder, and your orgasm starts building within you once again, "i'm gonna fuck you so good, you'll never even think about jaemin again,"

jeno rams his hips into you and the sound of your skin slapping against his echoes around your bedroom. you try to cover up how close you're getting, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he won't notice until it's too late.

the only problem is: jeno knows you just as well as you know him, and even more so, he knows your body. he prides himself in that—in catching every little involuntary sign and habit you have.

he knows the way your toes curl when he hits the right spot, deep within your gummy walls, and he knows the way your eyes gloss over to spill hot tears when he chokes you.

your face might be able to conceal your true intentions, but your pussy, gushing and squeezing around him, can not.

“if i feel you come around me, so help me god, i’m gonna stop,”

there isn’t the slightest hint of a bluff behind his sharp tone, and it pisses you off. your cheeks are red hot with frustration, nails digging into his skin, which only makes him squeeze your waist harder. the pleasure is dizzying, his thick length dragging up and down your walls in the most delectable way.

you aren’t gonna last much longer, you know that. he knows that.

“please, jeno. please please please,”

“i’ll let you come, baby. there’s nothing i want more than for you to come on my cock, but i need you to tell me,”

sneakily, you trail your hand between your legs to stimulate your clit, but he’s quick to grasp both of your wrists before you can even savor the feeling, pinning your arms on your chest between your bouncing breasts.

you’re a mere second away from whining out in protest when his own free hand flies to rub circles on your puffy clit, and suddenly, the feeling is far too overwhelming.

forced to blink harshly a few times to regain focus, you look at his features and come to the conclusion that truthfully, jaemin, and no one else for that matter, could ever make you feel like this.

you didn’t want anyone else anyway. your little act was just a ploy to get you to this very point, stuck underneath jeno who manages to make you come so hard each and every time he’s inside you that you wind up seeing stars.

as the cord threatens to snap in your belly, every ounce of you longing for release, you moan out loudly, giving in, “i’m yours! i don’t want anyone else, i promise,”

“yeah?”

“yes,” you insist, “yes, baby. fuck, m’all yours, always yours,”

he leans down to press a kiss to your lips, and suddenly, all the anger he had been airing out fades for a moment. he doesn’t shove his tongue down your throat (although you wouldn’t have minded much), and he doesn’t move his lips in any kind of rush; instead, they move against yours softly, almost feather-like, as if your confession would float away from any suddenness.

and finally, against your lips, he mumbles, “go ahead and come, sweet girl. i’ve got you.”

instantly, your nerves ignite and your breath hitches, your orgasm washing over you at last.

he isn’t far behind, not at all. he had been sensitive ever since he’d started humping the bed with his head stuck between your legs.

he finishes with you, in you, shooting streams of hot white cum inside your clenched walls. the grip he holds on your hand releases as a grunt rumbles in his throat, and you instinctively wrap your arms around him, letting him bury his face into your neck.

when he stills his movements, he lays his weight on top of you, warm, slick skin pressing right up against you, chest to chest.

after a few moments of silence, other than the settling heavy breaths from both of you, you rake your fingers through his hair, muttering timidly by his ear.

“i mean it. i’m yours. i only did all that earlier for—well, for this.”

“all mine?”

you nod, giving him reassurance when he lifts his head to read the expression on your face, “mhm.”

“good. i’m all yours, too.”

[qlossytbh]

𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞? - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐮!𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 where you find yourself with immense baby fever

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 baby fever, fem!reader, fluff fluff fluff, established relationship, reader and spencer are married, hotch x platonic!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 1.5k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 so i imagined older spence but younger jack so pretend jack is around 3 or 4 but spence is like around season 7/8 (?)

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“All I’m saying, you could’ve been a little nicer,” You turned to Morgan with a rigid sigh. If he didn’t know you better, it’d probably sound like you were deeply annoyed with him, on the verge of cursing him out. He knew you were only regarding the events of today's case.

“I think you’re mixing ‘being nicer’ with tough love,” You deadpanned at your friend, earning nothing but his signature snicker.

You shook your head, feigning that of disappointment. You rolled your shoulder back, craning your neck slightly to scan the files that rested between your fingers. God, how many files could one see in a day?

It was a few hours past midday when the case came to an end. Hotch had a sudden dilemma that he needed immediate solving, so he told all of you to make it back to headquarters. You and Morgan however, had been stuck together for the day and made it back a lot earlier than the rest of the team, prompting the two of you to get some necessary paperwork done.

You needed a day off— especially from Morgan.

The bullpens doors opened unexpectedly, drawing you and Derek out of your conversation. You turned, seeing the rest of the team waltz through the glass door— only this time, they were accompanied by a pair of small legs.

You couldn’t stop a reflexive smile from growing onto your face. “Is that who I think it is?”

Jack waddled into the bullpen, one of his tiny fists bundled up onto a small section of Hotch’s dress pants. You could’ve screamed, a reaction that was becoming more necessary every time you saw a kid, and most definitely when you saw Jack.

At the sound of your cheery voice, Jack looked up, biting onto his knuckles— something you learned was a sign of his bashfulness.

But when he realized it was you who was standing next to Morgan, his face immediately morphed into one that could only portray pure and innocent child joy, looking as if he couldn’t be happier to see you. Nothing could compare to how ecstatic that made you feel, chest getting fuzzy with endearment. Hotch placed his palm onto the back of his head. “Look who it is!”

You've taken care of Jack too many times you lost count, given since you and Hotch were close— practically family. You adored Jack and found yourself being struck with some newfound motherly instinct when it came to him— or any kid for that matter. He always gave you this very violent need to squeeze his cheeks and hug him so tight he might pop.

“Is that little Jackie?” Your voice was high and welcoming, trying to hide how utterly joyed you were with seeing him and failing miserably. Jack immediately pushed himself off of Hotch’s leg and began running towards you.

Well, he more so waddled his way over to you, small feet pattering roughly against the floor as he ran over to you in an unstable line. You met him halfway, crouching down and opening your arms for him. When he was close enough, he launched himself into said arms, voice loud with giggles and shrieks. “If it isn’t my favorite boy!”

You squeezed him tightly, rising once again to your natural height and hugging the small toddler. Morgan, of course, didn’t miss a beat to taunt. “Careful, Reid’s listening.”

“Oh please,” You rested Jack on your hip, keeping strong secure arms around him while he gripped the ends of your hair curiously. “Spencer knows that Jack comes first no matter what, isn’t that right Jack?”

“Yeah!” He laughed.

Spencer couldn’t keep in a single thought as he watched you interact with Jack so naturally. It twisted his chest in weird, scary ways. If it were anyone else he’d be terrified. But it was you. And he now found his head lingering with the idea of you as a mother— the mother of his children, specifically.

It was a conversation the two of you had once, very briefly a few months after you two got married. Spencer had been meaning to get back at it, but with the chaos of your jobs it had been really hard to think about anything other than serial killer and criminals.

But fuck, if Spencer said that seeing you interact so carefully and sweetly with not only Jack but many other children that had stumbled up on these last few cases— he’d be the biggest liar on the face of this earth.

Just the thought of starting a family with you was something that filled him with anticipation. It made his chest burn. Something he craved so deeply, it sometimes left him breathless.

“You’re getting so big and strong that I’m beginning to have a hard time lifting you up.” You huffed, setting him down onto the ground and crouching beside him. “You’re gonna give me back problems.”

“Derek says it’s because you’re getting weak!” His R’s were disguised as muffles W’s, which only caused your heart to clench further. A choke disguised as a strained laugh left your mouth.

“Is that so?” You turned over to him with a glare. Morgan scratched the back of his head and turned on his heel avoiding you and your piercing gaze.

“But who’s your favorite; big old chiseled Derek, or little weak me?” You squint your eyes at the boy, pursing your lips feeling very confident in his answer.

And to no one’s surprise did Jack point towards you and with a huge, wide smile laughed out. “You!”

You laughed victoriously, holding out a palm for Jack to clap. “Yeah, that’s right!”

“Oh, come on,” Morgan groaned.

After one last hug from the child, you ushered Jack over to Hotch, shooting an endeared smile towards him. God, you loved that kid so much.

JJ, Prentiss and Rossi made their way to the conference room. You look ahead, meeting the gaze of your husband and smiling profusely. It was a subconscious reaction your body had. You found yourself meeting Spencer halfway. “Hey,”

His hand rested on your hip as he leaned down, kissing you chastly. Spencer would’ve loved to actually take his time greeting you with a much proper kiss, but it was a middle ground the two of you found between professionalism and well— being married.

His hand, however, remained on the spot on your hip, thumb drawing circles instinctively. It was subtle, but his touch was still there. Your smile was big and lovestruck, looking up at him with soft eyes. “Hey,”

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, Jack's laughter ripped through the air as Hotch lifted him up. You and Spencer turned and you swear you could almost cry.

It was as if lately, when you allowed yourself to think even slightly about the concept of children you’d combust into a pool of tears and overbearing endearment. Spencer watched you looking over at Jack and noticed something pooling beneath your eyes.

You looked back at Spencer, lips tied in a pout. “I want one.”

“A baby?” He tuned, laughing slightly at how your body sunk against his, resting your forehead on his chest in exasperation.

“Yes,” You pushed yourself off his chest, throwing your hands around as you spoke. “The small hands, small feet— I swear everytime I see a baby, I get violent.”

You pouted. “Imagine a mini us Spence,”

And Spencer did. He thought about it in such detail that he forgot it wasn’t an actual reality of his. A little girl or boy, that resembled either of you, that held so many fractions and traits of the two of you— it seemed unreal to him.

“A mini us?” He repeated. You looked up at him.

“Well— yeah,” You reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean, we haven’t really talked about it but..”

Spencer wanted kids more than he had ever wanted anything before— but he knew that he only wanted it if it was with you. He couldn’t phantom the thought of starting a family with anyone else.

“We should,” He spoke. Your fingers played mindlessly with the bottom of his tie, looking up at him with a teasing smirk.

“We should talk about it or we should try?” A blush crept up his cheeks as his eyes widened just slightly. You always found ways to catch him off guard and you loved getting even the slightest reaction out of him.

“Uh—“ He dragged out his words, before his eyes landed back on you. “Both?”

You laughed and he smiled. He always smiled when you laughed, he couldn’t stop himself from doing so. You reached down, tangling your fingers with his. “I’m serious though,”

He hummed. “So am I.”

“You actually want to start trying for a baby?” This seemed like a conversation that was far too intimate to be having in the middle of the bullpen— where you usually discussed varieties of atrocious things, but here you were I guess.

“Yeah,” He said, almost in disbelief that you had questioned it. You found yourself growing oddly shy, just thinking of a small version of the two of you running around.

Before you could continue on the subject, Morgan, who now held Jack on his shoulders, was calling you and Spencer over to the conference room. You turned to Spencer, smiling softly.

“Can we get back to this once we get home?”

“Please,” He breathed, leaning forward and pressing a longer kiss onto your lips. You grew giddy and smiled into the kiss, pulling away sooner than both of you would like.

“I love you,” You smiled. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and placed a loving kiss on your forehead.

“I love you.”

[leejenowrld]

in your eyes — part 2 

word count — 43k words

genre — angst, smut, fluff 

part 1 — part 2

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

chapter warnings — explicit content, swearing, mature language, sexual jokes, heated smut, unprotected sex, mutual masturbation, voyeurism (yn gets off watching a video of jeno’s cock yeehaw), oral sex, intense emotional scenes, ‘daddy’ name calling smut scene, hard dom jeno, choking, jeno fucks reader in headlock, mirror smut, jeno pussy eater, reader sits on jeno’s face, degradation, slapping, spitting, exhibitionism, orgasm control/denial, name-calling, dirty talk, intense and graphic descriptions of sexual activity, emotional vulnerability, hard angst in this one, tear jerker moments, really emotional scenes, heated confrontations, heated fights, a lot of secrets and exposed, heavy reliance on drugs and alcohol to cope, lots of smoking, drinking, getting high, so many college parties, so many band shows, jeno and arin revelations, confused and misleading jeno, jeno and arin moments, reader, jeno and arin moments, girl boss yn, girl moments🫶, possessive sexy jeno, jealous jeno, full penetrative sex, soft soft smut, deep intimacy and emotional connection, size kink, with emphasis on fit and fullness, praising and reassurance during sex, consensual and tender dynamic, heightened emotional depth, including tears and deep affection, slow pace with meaningful, deliberate thrusts, nudity in a semi-public, playful and loving interactions with a focus on mutual satisfaction, declarations of love and monogamy, soft and passionate kissing, emotional climax with affirmations of love and fidelity

author note — it’s here 🥹🥹 thank you for all your love and support, this is the final part and it’s making me so emotional. i hope you all enjoy <3 get your tissues ready lol. please interact with this part and lmk what you thought!! means so much more to me than you’d know mwah enjoy 💋

in your eyes masterlist

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Silence fills the room.

You let out a hollow laugh, your body tensing as you prepare to stand up and walk away. However, Jeno's soft, pleading eyes root you to the spot. “What is this, Jeno?” you ask, your voice unintentionally gentle, betraying the firmness you had intended.

Jeno reaches out, attempting to pull you back onto his lap, but you shake your head firmly, maintaining your distance. He lets out a weary sigh, his expression a mix of frustration and sadness. “Y/N, just hear me out, please,” he pleads.

“You have two minutes,” you respond, your tone flat, as you glance at the phone, the silence hanging heavily between you.

He reaches out, his fingers brushing yours as he grabs the phone from the table, an electric charge of contact that sends a shiver up your spine. He turns off the phone decisively, silencing it before Arin’s call can go to voicemail. You watch, puzzled and slightly overwhelmed, as he places the phone facedown on the table, ensuring that nothing distracts him from this moment with you.

Arin’s relentless calls continue, the phone vibrating insistently on the tabletop, but Jeno doesn’t give it another glance. His eyes, dark and intense, are locked on yours, conveying a seriousness that commands your attention.

“Those photos and videos shouldn’t be there, and I’m sorry I didn’t delete them. Honestly, I had a lot of photos and videos like that, with Arin, on my phone. I thought I had deleted them all, but obviously not. Some might still be there and I know how careless that is, I’m really sorry.” He says with a mix of regret and sincerity, his voice carrying a hint of apology and concern for your feelings. He's straightforward yet gentle, acknowledging the mistake and taking responsibility for it.

You take a deep breath, your gaze fixed on Jeno. His eyes reflect a sincerity that tugs at your heartstrings, warming the cold edges of your doubt. As he waits patiently for your response, the quiet empathy in his expression helps steady the whirl of emotions inside you.

“You really didn’t mean to keep them?” you ask quietly, needing just that bit of reassurance. 

“No, not at all,” he replies quickly, his voice firm. 

Feeling the warmth of his hand encasing yours, the sincerity in his voice helps tilt the balance of your emotions towards trust. You nod slowly, trying to process his words. It's not anger or disappointment that fills you, but a mix of confusion and uncertainty. You're unsure how to react, torn between wanting to believe him and feeling a pang of doubt nagging at the back of your mind.

“Why do you still have her number saved?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, but it’s hard when a storm of emotions is raging inside you.

Jeno pauses, looking thoughtful, as if he’s sorting through the right words. “When we—when we split up, a lot of things went wrong. It wasn’t just messy, it was painful, and I blocked her number to help myself move past it. That was over a year ago, and it took a while, but I’ve been trying to get over it,” he explains, his tone reflecting a mix of regret and contemplation.

“And when exactly did this conversation happen?” your voice shakes slightly, the weight of his words settling in.

“It was about six months ago,” he replies, the timeline aligning just before the two of you had started seeing each other more seriously, you sigh in relief. 

“So, you’re okay with her now?” you probe gently, needing to hear him say it.

He shifts slightly, making eye contact with you as he continues. “A few months back, she reached out. She apologized, and it seemed heartfelt. We had a long conversation, and it helped me see things from a different perspective. I’ve always found it hard to maintain bad blood with anyone, even if things ended badly. I’m a people pleaser. So, I forgave her,” he adds, a softness in his voice that tells you this isn’t just about moving on but about healing.

“Oh.” You mumble, a deep frown plastered on your face. "She keeps on calling, Jeno," your voice comes out softer, tinged with a hint of fear as the words hover between you, carrying more weight than intended. Your eyes shift to his phone on the bedside table, its screen lighting up insistently with each ring, the vibrations echoing the tension in the room.

He sighs, a deep sound filled with a mix of frustration and resignation. As he leans forward to grab his phone, which continues its insistent ringing on the bedside table, you move faster. Your hand snatches it up before he can touch it, pressing the answer button with a sharp jab.

“Hi,” you say, your voice flat, giving nothing away.

“Who is this?” the voice on the other end is light, confused, but undeniably sweet.

“Me,” you reply tersely, as if that should explain everything. There’s a pause—a moment of silence where the simplicity of your answer hangs in the air.

“Is Jeno there?” The voice on the other end is light, tinged with a hopeful note that makes it harder to stay indifferent.

You hesitate, the simple inquiry echoing oddly in your chest. “Yeah,” you admit reluctantly.

“Could you tell him Arin wants to speak to him?” Her voice is sweet, almost disarmingly so, and her words are polite, her request reasonable.

You turn to Jeno, relaying the message with a stiffness in your voice, “Arin wants to talk to you.” You watch his expression for any sign of what he’s thinking, but he remains inscrutable.

He doesn’t respond verbally; instead, he simply extends his hand for the phone. The ease of his gesture, the quiet acceptance, it isn’t what you wanted. You had hoped for a denial, a refusal, some affirmation that the past was just that—the past. Yet, here he was, ready to slip back into old conversations as if they were nothing.

Jeno's fingers gently curl around the phone, the action deliberate and calm. The warmth in his gaze as he met yours moments before shifts as he brings the device to his ear. There's a flicker in his eyes, something unreadable before they settle into a determined glint. You watch, almost holding your breath, as the conversation unfolds.

"I'm busy," he states simply, his voice firm, leaving little room for argument.

Your eyebrows lift in surprise. Despite the chaos of emotions swirling inside you, Jeno's blunt dismissal catches you off guard. It's a sharp contrast to the gentle way he usually speaks, and it anchors you back to the moment with a jolt of unexpected approval.

On the other end, there's a pause—a momentary breath of silence that feels charged with tension. "Will you call me later?" Arin's voice filters through, her tone a mix of hope and hesitation.

"Probably not," Jeno replies, his response as clipped as before. The simplicity of his words, the casual dismissal, it adds layers to the scenario unfolding before you.

"But, Jeno, it’s important," Arin insists, her voice pressing for something more, something beyond the brief exchange.

"Ok?" His intonation rises slightly, a question in the guise of a response, signaling he’s not committed to the promise of another conversation. His fingers tighten slightly around the phone, a visible sign of his discomfort or perhaps his resolve.

As you observe him, a mix of feelings courses through you. There’s an unexpected surge of relief that he’s not engaging more than necessary, yet a lingering doubt nibbles at your thoughts, wondering what was so important that Arin still reached out despite his clear resistance.

He ends the call swiftly, the screen going dark as he places the phone back down. His gaze returns to you, searching, perhaps unsure of how much you've interpreted or how deeply the brief exchange might have affected you.

"You handled that... differently than I expected," you venture, your voice a careful blend of curiosity and subtle approval. 

Jeno exhales, a long, deep breath that seems to release some of the tension that had built up. "I didn’t want to drag things out—there’s no point. It's better to keep it short and clear."

His response makes you nod, understanding his approach but still processing the entire interaction. The simplicity of his handling was reassuring, yet the complexity of his past relationship with Arin still hung in the air, an unspoken chapter that was slowly coloring the edges of your own story with him.

"You think she’ll call back?" you ask, a trace of concern threading your words.

He shrugs, his expression a blend of indifference and slight irritation. "Maybe, but it doesn’t change anything. I meant what I said."

His hand finds yours, the warmth familiar and comforting, and in that touch, you find a silent promise—a commitment to face whatever comes, together. "Why don't you want to talk to her anymore?" you ask softly, your curiosity tinged with a need to understand his perspective.

Jeno’s gaze locks with yours, his eyes reflecting a deep seriousness that seems to draw you in. “I’ve gotten closure from what happened with her. I have nothing left to say to her. I'm here with you now, and you deserve my full energy and attention,” he says earnestly, his hand reaching up to gently caress the side of your face, his touch conveying the depth of his commitment. The way he looks at you, so intently, makes it clear that he's fully moved on, though he adds, “I can't speak for her, but I’ve put it all behind me.”

You nod, feeling the sincerity in his touch and his words, but still a bit puzzled. "I don’t get it though, does she call you a lot?"

"A few times, but I always say I’m busy and end the call. You know, a lot of people reach out to me; I don’t pay special attention to her calls. They just blend in with the rest," he explains, his tone dismissive of the significance of her attempts to contact him, emphasizing his focus is entirely on the present and specifically, on you. His hand remains on your face, maintaining a gentle but affirming touch that reassures you of his priorities.

He releases your face gently and reaches for his phone, which lay forgotten on the table beside you. His movements are deliberate, each action punctuated with a silent promise of transparency.

You watch, your heart in your throat, as Jeno unlocks his phone. The screen lights up, casting a soft glow in the dimly lit room. He navigates with familiar ease, a few swipes bringing him back to the gallery. His thumb hovers over the photo of Arin—a brief pause, a final acknowledgment of the past—and then he presses down, selecting the option to delete.

The action is simple yet profound. He doesn’t look away from you as he does it, his eyes holding yours, ensuring you understand the significance of the gesture. “It’s gone,” he says, a finality in his tone. He doesn’t just delete the photo; he also takes a moment to clear it from the recently deleted album, erasing all possible traces of her image.

He lifts your chin gently, guiding your gaze back to his. The warmth of his hands radiates comfort as they cup your face, the rough pads of his thumbs brushing lightly against your cheeks. His eyes search yours, seeking to convey everything his words might have left unsaid.

He pulls you closer, his arms enveloping you in a warm embrace that feels like a safe haven from the storm of emotions brewing inside you. You lean into him, your head resting against his chest, where you can hear the steady beat of his heart—a reassuring rhythm in the midst of your turmoil.

He wraps a blanket around you as he notices the slight tremble in your shoulders, the soft fabric adding another layer of warmth. His lips find your forehead, planting soft kisses that make their way down to your closed eyelids, each touch light but filled with intent, as if trying to kiss away your worries.

You’re enveloped in his warmth, feeling the security of his hold tighten slightly when he feels you shiver, not from the cold, but from the emotional chill the photo has left in its.

“What’s gotten into you?” He asks you softly, you feel his fingers brushing over your eyelids, his touch gentle and comforting, yet there’s an underlying tension in the air. You hum in confusion, not fully registering his question as your mind is preoccupied with thoughts of Arin.

“She’s so beautiful, isn’t she?” you finally voice, the words slipping out almost involuntarily, echoing the turmoil inside you.

“Y/N—” he begins, but you cut him off, your curiosity burning within you.

“What’s happened with you and Arin? Why did you break up?” you press, needing answers to quell the unease in your heart.

“Y/N, it really isn’t relevant anymore—”

“You obviously used to love her at one point. It’s relevant. I’ve heard from many people that you and Arin were serious. Is it wrong if I want to know how you got together and why it ended?” you challenge, your voice firm with determination.

He exhales slowly, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “What do you wanna know?”

“Everything,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with an intensity that demands truth and clarity.

“We were never officially together. She was never my girlfriend. But I loved her. I cared a lot about her and always wanted her around, but I knew there were a lot of problems with us,” he begins, his honesty setting the tone.

“How did you meet her?” you ask, curiosity weaving through your tone.

Jeno’s gaze softens, a reflective smile briefly passing over his lips. “I first met her when we were 16. We’ve known each other for a long time. We grew up in the same neighbourhood, always in and out of each other’s houses. We always found our way to each other.” 

As you listen to Jeno describe Arin, a tight pang clenches in your chest, but curiosity propels you forward. Questions spill from your mouth before you can stop them. “What was she like? How did you fall for her?”

He looks off into the distance, his expression softening as he reminisces. “She was like summer in a person—bright, warm, impossible to ignore,” he begins, his voice soft and reflective. “She had this laugh that could light up a room, and she was always so… alive, you know? Full of energy and love.”

You notice how his face lights up when he talks about her, the warmth in his voice unmistakable as he drifts back to those days. It’s clear from his tone and his faraway look that those memories hold a special place in his heart, even now.

He sighs, shifting slightly as he continues, Jeno’s smile widens a fraction, tinged with a youthful nostalgia. Pausing, he looks at you, ensuring the story is not overwhelming. “And yeah, we were each other’s firsts,” he admits, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone.

"I asked her to be my girlfriend and she said no because she was moving away. That was the first time she ever told me," he sighs. "When she left, it felt like I was losing a part of me I didn’t know could be lost."

Jeno says, his voice tinged with a touch of sadness. "I dealt with it by trying to move on—I had sex with a lot of different girls, kissed others. It was my way of filling the void she left."

“Three years later, by some twist of fate, we ended up at the same college. It was like no time had passed at all, and all those old feelings came rushing back. We reconnected instantly, drawn to each other all over again.”

“But you were never official?” you probe gently, picking up on his earlier thread.

He shakes his head. “When we were 16, we were only together for a summer before she moved away. We were never boyfriend and girlfriend. We were exclusive though, when we were 16 and then in college.” 

“Nayoung mentioned that you guys used to casually fuck, that you were fuck buddies… friends with benefits?” you inquire, needing to understand the dynamics of their past relationship.

"It was more than that," he replies softly, his voice showing a slight frustration with the label. "It wasn't just about casual hookups. When we got back together in college, it was comforting and familiar. We slipped back into each other's lives effortlessly. It was like a habit, almost too easy."

Jeno’s eyes held a vulnerable honesty as he spoke, his fingers absently tracing the back of your hand, seeking a reassuring touch. “You probably think I sound so pathetic, so caught up in someone who I fell in love with when I was 16 and feeling the effects of that even after all this time.”

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of his honesty. It’s difficult to acknowledge that he’s not in the wrong for his emotions; they are a part of his history, part of what has shaped him. “I don’t think you’re an idiot at all,” you assure him gently, meeting his gaze with a supportive smile. “It’s a lot of history, a lot of significant moments. It makes sense.”

He exhales, a sound mixed with relief and appreciation. Jeno’s eyes soften, the gratitude evident as he looks at you. “Thank you,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing against your skin in small, grateful circles. “You’re incredibly understanding, always.”

Silence overtakes the room and the eye contact you hold is intimate, the way he’s looking makes goosebumps run all over your skin and you suddenly feel so shy; his gaze is so heated and intense. You cough, averting your gaze. You feel him smile at your reaction, calling out your name softly as he leans forward to press his lips against your cheeks in a soft kiss.

“You were telling me?” you try to change the subject, wondering how he still manages to make you so shy and flustered.

He chuckles softly, his amusement clear as he appreciates your efforts to steer the conversation away from the deep. “Right, where was I?” Jeno teases gently, his voice low and soothing, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

“You were saying you were more than ‘friends with benefits’” you remind him, finding your voice again despite the strain you feel inside. 

He nods. “When we reunited in college, at the start, yeah, it was very much friends with benefits. She wasn’t ready to commit. But then, I started catching feelings; I fell for her. God knows what she felt; she was never good at communicating or expressing her true feelings. I think she fell for me too,” he admits, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. 

“What happened? Why did it all end?” you ask, your voice carrying a note of finality, needing to know the closure.

“I needed more,” he admits, his voice firm but pained. “I wanted something stable, something real. She was still caught up in having no labels, no commitments. And I...” He sighs deeply, the weight of the memory pressing down on him. “I loved her. I really did. But loving her and always wanting more than she could give... It was draining. I ended it because I couldn’t continue halfway between what we were and what I needed us to be.”

He looks at you, his eyes clear and earnest. “It hurt, but it was the right thing to do. For both of us.”

“Oh?” you mumble, trying to process his candidness.

He hums, a hint of a smile breaking through the solemnity. “Not what you expected?”

You shake your head slowly. “I thought she did something wrong.”

“She wasn’t perfect, don’t get me wrong. I had a hard time getting used to such a negative side of her, especially because when we were younger she was nothing but kind. But when we started seeing each other in college, I noticed that she grew into something else completely, she had a lot of flaws. She was irrational, immature, and refused to communicate. We’d argue, and her way to fix it would be by trying to fuck me or suck my dick. It just infuriated me how childish she could be. She was also so jealous, to the point it was off-putting. She didn’t want to be my girlfriend, but she also got so annoyed if I ever spoke to another girl or did so much as look their way. She’s made a lot of girls feel uncomfortable because of how possessive she can be,” he explains, a mixture of frustration and resignation evident in his words.

“Nayoung mentioned something like that,” you murmur, memories surfacing from past conversations. “She said that she hated Arin because you stopped fucking her to go back to Arin.”

He nods, his expression serious. “Yeah. When I ended things with Arin, I went back to sleeping casually and fucking around, to deal with heartbreak, I guess. She became so jealous; it was ridiculous. At first, I used to fall for it. She’d try to tell me that she wanted me back, tried to convince me that she was serious about her feelings for me, that she wanted us to be together. And I would always go back to her. I was still in love with her at this point, so I’d drop anything and anyone for that chance. But then I realized she was just toying with me. She was never serious about it. She’d only say that because she didn’t want to see me with another girl, even if it was only just for sex. But she’d completely disrespect me,” he admits, his voice carrying a weight of past disappointments.

“She really did break my heart, I feel like a part of me is still broken. It took a long time to get over her.” 

You swallow hard, absorbing the weight of his words. Avoiding his gaze, you gather your courage to ask, “Do you still like her?”

He chuckles softly, surprised by the question. “God no, I’m over it.” You want to sigh in relief, but something in his voice leaves you hesitant. Was he really over it? He answers so quickly you don’t know if you can believe him.

Really?” you probe, needing reassurance.

“I wouldn’t be here, with you, right now if I still liked her. I’m over her, trust me,” he assures you, his tone softening with sincerity.

“Do you still love her?” you blurt out, unable to suppress your curiosity.

He sighs, his tone serious. “Y/N.”

“Jeno,” you press, needing clarity.

“No, I don’t love her anymore. I stopped loving her a long time ago,” he states firmly, his words carrying a sense of finality.

“What if she told you she was ready? That she wanted a relationship?” you inquire, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

He shakes his head firmly. “Nothing she says will ever make me change my mind. I will never feel the way I used to. I don’t trust or love her anymore.”

“Oh, very nice,” you respond bitterly, not quite knowing what to say, you were at a loss for words.

“You sure?” he says, amusement lacing his tone at your understated reaction.

His gaze softens, and he shifts your positions, guiding you until you’re sitting on his lap, your chest pressed against his. His hands settle on the small of your back, pulling you close to his chest, his touch soothing the tension he senses within you. Cupping your face gently in his hands, he brushes his lips against yours, a soft peck that leaves you craving more.

“You don’t need to worry, okay? I would never go back to her,” he assures you, his voice laced with sincerity. “You’re so important to me, you mean so much to me. I cherish you so much. Don’t ever worry about Arin.”

All you can manage is a nod in response, overwhelmed by his words.

“Has she said anything to you? Has she tried to make you feel uncomfortable?” he probes, concern evident in his tone. “I’m only asking because she used to say a lot of rude stuff to girls I used to sleep with and you mean so much more to me than those girls, so I wouldn’t be surprised if Arin knew that and tried to get to you.”

You shake your head, the weight of the situation settling heavily upon you. “She hasn’t said anything to me yet but she always stares at me.” 

He hums softly. “If she ever does say something to you, don’t let her affect you, okay? She likes to do whatever she can to get into someone’s head but you’re stronger than that, right?  Don’t let her make you upset. Just ignore her and tell me if she bothers you, yeah?” he urges, his protective instincts kicking in.

You nod, “What would you do?”

He lets out a dry cough. “Whatever needs to be done. I’d do anything for you without a second thought, and I know you’d do the same for me.” His confidence and self-assurance make you hold back a moan.

You nod. “Of course I would.”

In a heartbeat, he responds, “You’re my priority, you’re my special one. You mean everything to me.”

“You’re so — you’re so cute, but you’re also very corny. Imagine if the guys heard you.” You snort. 

“I have nothing to hide, I’m not —”

But before he can finish, you cut him off with a kiss. The moment your lips meet, the atmosphere shifts, electrifying the air between you. His hands instinctively find their way to your waist, pulling you closer, while your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him impossibly nearer.

The kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more heated, as desire courses through your veins. Your bodies pressed together, heat radiating between you, as if you’re trying to merge into one. Every touch, every caress, sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, igniting a fire that burns hotter with each passing moment.

Breaking away from him, you’re both left breathless, panting heavily as you stare into each other’s eyes. The intensity of the moment hangs between you, thick with desire and longing.

“I cherish you more,” you whisper, the weight of your words hanging in the air, stress evident in your heavy breathing. But even as the words leave your lips, you know that they hold a depth of emotion that goes beyond mere words.

“Good girl,” he whispers in response, his voice husky with affection, as he peppers soft kisses all over your face. You lean into his embrace, revelling in the warmth of his affection and the closeness you share. 

“Why are you so hard?” you giggle, running your fingers teasingly along the bulge in his pants. Leaving hot and heated kisses alongside the curve of his neck. 

“Because there’s a hot girl sitting on my lap and grinding against my cock,” he responds with a smirk, his eyes dark with desire. You feel a surge of satisfaction at his words, knowing you have this effect on him.

“Yeah, but I sit on your lap all the time, it doesn’t get you hard like this,” you tease, your voice low and sultry.

“Yeah, it does,” he huffs, his hands sliding down to grip your hips firmly.

“Not this hard,” you challenge, biting your lip as you continue to rub against his bulge, feeling the growing hardness beneath you. With a swift motion, you reach for his shirt and pull it off, revealing his toned chest.

“Everything you do gets me hard,” he admits, his voice husky with need, his gaze locked with yours in a primal intensity. “I haven’t had sex in a long time.”

Your heart skips a beat at his confession, a rush of desire coursing through you. “Wait — have you not fucked anyone else in the last few months?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

“But the time between the two times we had sex was around 3 months” you ask, a hint of surprise in your voice.

He nods, his expression serious. “Yeah. Just you,” he confirms, his gaze unwavering.”

“Why?” you laugh incredulously, a snort escaping you. “Even I would’ve fucked someone else if I were you. I kept ignoring you and walking the other way after our first time because of how nervous you made me. If I were you, I’d give up and go back to fucking.”

“I don’t want anyone else,” he says simply, his sincerity evident in his eyes.

“Have you fucked anyone else but me since our first time?” he asks you now, curiosity tinged with desire in his voice.

You shake your head, leaning in to leave a soft kiss against his lips. “Just you.”

“You used to have so much sex…” you trail off, feeling a mix of emotions at the thought.

He smiles, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. “It’s okay though. You know I don’t mind. I’ll wait for years if it means the only one I’ll fuck is you.”

“You should’ve told me that you’ve barely gotten laid in the last few months,” you tease, deftly unbuttoning your shirt and letting the fabric fall to the floor, revealing the curve of your body.

His gaze remains fixed on yours, dark with desire.

“Well, let’s make up for lost time, let’s have sex now.” you purr, your voice dripping with heat as you close the distance between you.

A boyish grin spreads across his face, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, your own excitement matching his.

“I don’t have any condoms, baby,” he murmurs huskily as he shifts his body over yours, his hands tracing the waistband of your skirt, eager to explore further.

“Just fuck me,” you breathe, your voice heavy with need, your hands already reaching for the waistband of his trousers, ready to pull them down and lose yourselves in the heat of the moment.

You swear it was so close to happening—the moment was right, the energy was electric. But then Donghyuck had to come barging into his room, asking for his headphones. Jeno groans in frustration, his irritation palpable. “Donghyuck!” he yells, tossing the headphones in his direction with more force than necessary.

──────────────────────────────

Your preparation for the band show feels more special tonight, infused with an unspoken anticipation. You put meticulous care into every detail of your appearance. You want to make a statement, not just on stage but also afterward, Jeno was going to take you somewhere, it was a ‘surprise.’

Nayoung is by your side, curling your hair into perfect waves that frame your face beautifully. The warmth from the curling iron is a stark contrast to the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You carefully apply your makeup, choosing colors that enhance your features—bold, smoky eyes paired with a soft, glowing complexion and rosy lips that promise subtlety yet allure.

As you blend your eyeshadow, Nayoung watches you through the mirror, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “You’re going out with Jeno after the gig?” she probes with a casual tone, but her eyes are too sharp, too curious.

You nod in affirmation, your focus momentarily shifting from your makeup to her reflection in the mirror. “On a date?” she presses further, her tone teasing yet probing.

You pause, brush in hand, and shake your head slightly, “It’s not a date, it’s—”

She interrupts with a playful roll of her eyes. “Yeah yeah, you’re not official yet. You guys should really have the ‘what are we’ talk,” she suggests, her voice laced with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

The suggestion hangs in the air, a subtle push towards a conversation you know is inevitable but aren’t quite ready to initiate. Yet as you turn back to the mirror, applying a final stroke of mascara, you can't help but wonder if tonight is the right time to define what Jeno really means to you.

The outfit for tonight was meticulously picked out and laid neatly on the bed behind you. The choice for tonight is daring, a black off-shoulder top with long sleeves that falls just right, It’s cut low enough to hint at the curves of your breasts, a tease of what lies beneath, paired perfectly with a plaid mini skirt that flares at the hem, playfully showcasing your thighs.

You stand in front of your full-length mirror, nerves racing through you as you slip into the outfit, the fabric clings and contours to your form, complementing your figure in an eye-catching way. The knee high boots you choose add an edge, their chunky heels lending height and attitude, while your chosen jewelry—simple yet elegant—adds a sparkle that catches the light as you move.

Nayoung watches your transformation, her reaction a mix of approval and a hint of pride. “Jeno’s not going to know what hit him,” she says, her voice tinged with excitement. “You look hot—he’ll love it.” Her words are a boost to your confidence as you give yourself one final look in the mirror, feeling ready to take on the night—and maybe, just maybe, ready to take on whatever conversation awaits you with Jeno

As you stand there, ready, you feel a blend of nerves and excitement. “Do you think he’ll find me pretty?” you ask, the innocence in your voice catching you by surprise.

“He always finds you pretty,” Nayoung replies confidently.

You can’t contain the blush that spreads across your cheeks. “I know,” you admit softly, a secret thrill at the acknowledgment.

Nayoung watches you, her expression shifting to one of curiosity. “I’ve never seen you put so much effort into looking this sexy for your shows,” she observes.

You find an excuse, one that doesn’t quite reach your own ears convincingly. “I want to look good for photos, plus a lot of people will be there.”

“But is that all?” Nayoung probes, her voice gentle yet insistent.

“What do you mean?” you deflect, not quite ready to confront the truth.

“It’s nothing bad,” she assures you. “It’s just that you’re very much giving ‘girlfriend who wants to look pretty and dress up for her boyfriend.’ It’s cute seeing you make so much effort because you know he’ll appreciate it and make you feel like the prettiest girl in the world, no matter what you’re wearing. It’s for him, isn’t it? You like dressing up for him.”

The realisation strikes you, and you’re left speechless. You gulp, searching for the right words. “It’s not just that, I—I like dressing up for myself too,” you assert.

She nods, understanding the complexity of your feelings. “Of course, but when you have someone who likes you as much as Jeno likes you, it’s nice to dress up for them, to feel seen and beautiful in their eyes.”

You bite your lip, willing the tears not to fall, the delicate balance of your carefully applied makeup at stake. Your eyes shift downward, catching the glow of your phone as it springs to life with a message from him. Jeno’s face smiles back at you from the lock screen. In the simple act of seeing his name, a realisation crystallises, breaking through the layers of your apprehension.

It’s a truth that has lingered at the edge of your consciousness, a whisper you’ve silenced for fear of the upheaval it might bring. But it’s undeniable now, demanding to be acknowledged with a force that feels as natural as breathing and as terrifying as falling.

With a tremulous voice, barely louder than the brush of butterfly wings, you admit to Nayoung, to yourself, to the universe, “I have feelings for Jeno. I’m falling for him.” The words are a confession, a release, a testament to a heart that refuses to be hushed any longer.

Nayoung’s reaction is a gentle laughter, rich with the warmth of shared secrets and sisterly bonds. “I know you do,” Nayoung kisses your cheek and then groans at herself for doing that as she’s just messed up your makeup. As she’s fixing it, she tells you how proud she is of you for being true to your feelings and understanding who and what you want, for being mature and honest. “You know, I thought you’d be more emotional. I thought you’d cry,” she laughs, expecting you to admit you liked Jeno with tears due to the heavy confession.

“I’m fine. I’m happy. He makes me happy and I trust him,” you speak with so much innocence and trust.

“So you don’t want it to be casual anymore?” she probes.

You shake your head. “I didn’t mind at first but now? Fuck, yeah, he’s mine. I need him to be mine. I really wanna ask him tonight, or hope that he asks me,” you say with a determination in your eye.

“No, Y/N, you should wait until he asks you,” Nayoung gives you friendly advice, her voice sweet.

“Why?” you inquire, curious about her reasoning.

Nayoung pauses, her hands still as she meets your gaze in the mirror. “Because it’s important that he makes that commitment too, without any pushing. It shows that he’s not only ready but eager to take that step. You want it to be his decision, coming from him wanting you just as much as you want him. It’s not about playing games; it’s about ensuring that his feelings match the depth of yours. Plus, it will mean more if it comes from him, don’t you think?” Her words carry the weight of experience, gentle yet firm, aiming to guide you towards a decision that solidifies the sincerity of your relationship.

You nod, a flicker of hopeful naivety shining in your eyes. "I really think it's going to happen soon. We had quite a moment last night," you begin, your voice dropping to a whisper.

"Oh?" Nayoung leans in closer, her interest piqued, sensing the significance in your tone.

Taking a deep breath, you confide, "I stumbled upon a photo of Arin on his phone. It was... intimate, and it made me feel all sorts of ways—jealous, upset, and then to make things worse, Arin happened to call him at that very moment." You pause, collecting your thoughts. "Jeno was open about it. He said he used to have a lot of pictures with her and probably missed some when he was deleting them."

Nayoung's eyes widen as she registers what you just said. "She called him? She what? Why does he still have her number?"

You huff, frustration evident. "God knows why. And I picked up the phone because I got angry, and Arin was kinda sweet?"

Nayoung scoffs, her disbelief clear. "Sweet? Please, she's nothing but a bitch, pretending to be all innocent."

You laugh at her blunt assessment. "She asked to speak to Jeno when I picked up."

"And??" Nayoung presses, leaning forward in anticipation.

"He said he was busy and ended it," you respond, trying to mask the mix of relief and confusion in your voice.

Nayoung is visibly stunned, processing the information. "Well, at least he didn't entertain her," she finally says, a slight nod indicating her approval.

Nayoung’s eyes widened, taken aback by what you’ve just spilled. “So they were serious? Not just fuck buddies?” she asks, her voice tinged with surprise.

You nod, feeling the sting of the admission. “He told me he loved her once.”

“Wow, that’s deep,” she exhales, processing the weight of your words.

“He made it clear they’re over. He ended things because she wouldn’t fully commit, and he’s been over her for a long time now. I want to believe him when he says he’s moved on… Am I naive for that?”

Nayoung considers this, her expression serious. “Do you trust him?”

You don’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“He told me he wouldn’t ever go back to her, even if she changed her mind. He said I mean too much to him, that he wouldn’t ever do that to me, that he wouldn’t hurt me, that I’m his priority and that he cherishes me,” you confide in Nayoung.

Nayoung’s eyes widened in surprise, a rare moment of speechlessness. “If a guy ever said that to me, the words ‘I love you’ would be slipping from my tongue.” 

“We also nearly had sex but Donghyuck walked in, and I’ve never seen Jeno get so mad. You should’ve seen his face.” you add with a laugh, sharing the absurdity of the situation.

“Yeah, and get this—” you lean in, a playful glint in your eye, “—since meeting me, I’m the only girl he’s fucked.”

Nayoung’s mouth falls open, her surprise genuine. “Seriously? For Jeno, that’s… that’s huge. Normally he’s having sex twice a week, sometimes even more.” 

──────────────────────────────

The bar is a canvas of shadows and dimly lit corners, where a mingling scent of aged wood and spilled liquor permeates the air. It’s an ambiance that speaks of stories untold, a place where many nights have unfolded in the haze of neon lights and reverberating music. Strings of Edison bulbs drape across the ceiling, offering a warm glow that dances off the well-worn surfaces of the bar and tables.

The crowd tonight is unusually thick, a sea of faces swaying to the rhythm of the music. You glance around, perplexed and a little overwhelmed by the number of people gathered. It’s as if the whole town has decided to show up. Despite the usual anonymity afforded by the dim lighting and the casual chaos of the bar, tonight feels different. As you scan the room, your eyes catch glimpses of familiar faces mixed with strangers, but what surprises you is the number of eyes that fleetingly meet yours, quickly looking away as if caught in the act of watching you. The realisation dawns on you slowly—the crowd isn’t just here for the usual Friday night revelry. They’re here for you.

You don’t blame them, you’re on stage and you’re in your element, the throb of the bass vibrating through your fingers as you blend into the fabric of the music. Your band plays with such harmony and rhythm that the crowd can’t help but sway to, captivated by Yeji’s beautiful voice, a melody that tugs at heartstrings.

You're also singing, harmonising with Yeji. While you haven't done a solo in front of anyone before, you love to sing. You enjoy it. Sunwoo has heard you sing and has tried to convince you to lead one of the performances, but you're too shy to take the spotlight.

And there he is—Jeno, your unspoken muse, the silent force behind every note you play. His eyes are locked on you, and even from the distance, you can feel the warmth of his gaze, the silent support in his smile. When he blows you a kiss, a current of exhilaration shoots through you, and for a fleeting moment, it’s just the two of you in the room.

Your eyes are only for him and he means the world to you. Tonight feels like the perfect moment to ask him to be your boyfriend.

Your eyes fix on Jeno once more but you notice a shift. instead of the usual supportive smiles, his gaze is elsewhere—fixed on Arin, who’s laughing, looking effortlessly breathtaking beside someone new. You didn’t even realise she was here, why was she here? 

The knot in your stomach tightens as you watch his expression change. There’s a hardness in his eyes, a tension in his jaw. The way he watches her speaks of unsaid words and unresolved feelings. Jeno’s look is one of jealousy, mixed with a hint of regret, as if he’s reconsidering every decision that led him away from her.

Your fingers falter on the bass strings, the melody souring. The room spins slightly as you try to refocus, to lose yourself in the music and Yeji’s harmonizing voice, but the scene unfolding offstage captures all your attention. Why now? Why here? 

With each jealous glance Jeno throws Arin’s way, a cold fear grips you. The joy of playing, the thrill of the music, fades into the background as a single, painful thought pierces through the confusion: What if he still wants her? What if tonight, the night you planned to ask him to be yours, ends with your heart breaking in front of everyone?

As the last notes of your performance fade into the din of applause and chatter, the glow from the stage lights seems to flicker out with your spirit. You feel drained, your usual post-show buzz overshadowed by a dull ache in your chest. The image of Jeno’s gaze drifting away from you and onto Arin is etched painfully into your mind.

You're barely off the stage when Jeno finds you. He pulls you into a hard kiss, the kind that usually melts away any remnants of stage fright or leftover adrenaline. But tonight, the kiss doesn’t reach the hollow feeling creeping up inside you. As he pulls back, his eyes scan your face, his joy at your performance shadowed by concern at how quiet you are.

“What’s up?” he asks, his voice soft, threaded with worry.

You shake your head, trying to dislodge the tightness in your throat, the words refusing to come. He doesn't push, but his eyes narrow slightly—a silent acknowledgment of the tension he too can sense.

He doesn’t wait for an answer, instead pulling you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you from behind. His lips find your cheek in a gentle kiss, and he murmurs. “I’m so proud of you.” The warmth of his breath against your skin sparks a contrast to the cold knot of doubt inside you.

But the images from earlier—the way he looked at Arin—haunt the edges of your happiness. “You were amazing tonight,” he continues, his hands sliding down to compliment your skirt, his fingers tracing the fabric around your hips. “I love this look on you,” he adds, voice rich with admiration.

His praises should have lifted your spirits but tonight they fell flat. Why was he looking at her like that? 

As he guides you through the crowd, his hand firm on your back, his actions are everything tender and protective, yet your mind races, trapped in a spiral of what-ifs and why-nows. His intimacy and affirmations, though genuine, feel overshadowed by the brief flash of something else in his gaze earlier—a complexity you hadn’t anticipated and aren’t sure how to navigate.

Sometime later, you find yourself with the band, leaning your head against Eric’s shoulder as laughter and chatter fill the air. The atmosphere is relaxed, almost festive, but you can’t shake off the weight of the evening’s events. Despite the alcohol flowing freely, you force yourself to stay present, mustering a smile to blend in with the group.

Jeno is engrossed in conversation with some friends, his animated gestures catching your eye from across the room. You take a moment to admire him, the way his eyes light up when he talks, the easy charm that draws people to him.

Needing a moment alone to gather your thoughts, you excuse yourself and slip away to the toilets. Leaning against the sink, you take deep breaths, trying to calm the turmoil swirling inside you. The events of the night replay in your mind, each moment etched vividly in your memory.

Emerging from the bathroom, the lingering energy from the gig vibrates within you, but it’s quickly overshadowed by the sight of Arin waiting by the corridor. Her smile is warm, seemingly genuine, as she clutches her purse. “You were just wonderful tonight,” she starts, her voice sweet, complimenting each of your band members—Yeji’s powerful vocals, Eric’s intense drum solos, Sunwoo’s infectious energy. Yet, when her eyes finally rest on you, the warmth subtly shifts.

She steps closer, her voice still soft but carrying an undertone you can’t quite place. “You know it’s not gonna last, right?” she murmurs, almost kindly, as if she’s sharing friendly advice rather than planting a seed of doubt.

You gulp, feeling stunned as it takes time for her statement to register and digest. You look at her in confusion. "What are you—?"

She laughs, the sound joyful and bright, and the twinkle in her eyes makes her look so beautiful and carefree. You understand why she's so adored by everyone. Yet, you can't tell whether she's laughing with you or mocking you. "I'm talking about you and Jeno," she says, her voice lilting as if discussing something trivial, not the bombshell she just dropped.

Managing only a faint reply, your voice comes out hushed and shaky, betraying your rattled nerves. “Why would you say that?” you ask, your question more of a whisper, as if speaking louder might confirm her 

She gives a gentle, patronising laugh. “Oh, honey, you shouldn’t get your hopes up too high,” she says, her eyes pitying. Her tone is nurturing, but the words sting, undermining the intensity of what you feel for Jeno.

Feeling a tightness in your chest, the words barely escape your lips, “Do you really think it’s not serious?” Your voice quivers, laced with insecurity and a lack of confidence as you seek validation for the intense feelings you harbour for him. 

Arin nods slowly, her expression morphing into one of feigned sympathy. “I can see how much you like him, and that it’s serious for you,” she begins, her tone soft, as if trying to cushion a harsh truth. “I’m really sorry he doesn’t feel the same way” Her words aim to sympathize, yet the empathy doesn’t quite reach her eyes, making her sincerity questionable.

You want to scream at her, to tell her that she shouldn't undermine the feelings you and Jeno very clearly have for each other. It is serious, but all you can do is swallow hard and nod slightly, unable to muster the courage to speak your disagreement. The weight of her words hangs heavy on your chest, suffocating you with their arrogance.

"Has he asked you to be his girlfriend?" Arin presses, her voice dripping with skepticism, her eyes boring into yours, searching for any sign of weakness.

"No," you admit, your voice barely audible, feeling the weight of her scrutiny bearing down on you, making you shrink further into yourself.

Arin's tone shifts, carrying a hint of nostalgia as she leans in slightly, her voice tinged with a hint of pride. 

"He asked me to be his girlfriend only three months after we met. How long have you two been seeing each other now? Six months?" Her words, meant as mere conversation, hang heavily between you, laden with implications she doesn't fully grasp.

You nod, feeling a pang of disappointment as her statement sinks in. The comparison stings, underscoring your own uncertainties about where you stand with Jeno. Arin's smile broadens, her eyes bright, oblivious to the discomfort she's unwittingly evoked.

Arin's expression softens, a wistful sigh escaping her lips as she leans closer, her voice lowering to a more intimate tone. "Honestly? I want him back. I’ve always felt like I’ve been his and he’s been mine. Like he’s my soulmate. Our connection and love is too strong for us to tear apart. Even if we distract ourselves with others, like what he’s doing with you, I know we’ll always find our way back to each other. Jeno is the one for me. He’s kind, caring, funny, smart, always puts me first and—don’t even get me started on how it feels to be kissed by him. And sex with him? God… I’ve really missed him."

That sounds like a ‘you’ problem, you wanted to mutter out loud. “Did you really just call me a distraction?” you question, your voice soft, not raised or rude at all. You weren’t going to stoop to that level.

She nods, apparently unaware of how harsh her words sound.

“I’m not a distraction, you can’t talk to me like that,” you defend yourself, your tone still even.

She giggles and shakes her head, her demeanour light as if she hadn't just dismissed your feelings. “Don’t be like that, you know what I mean.”

You shake your head, genuinely confused and hurt. “I really don’t.”

Arin’s conviction seems to solidify as she speaks, her tone sharpening, not catching the strain in your eyes. “You don’t get it,” she says, her voice rising slightly with a mix of frustration and certainty. “He’s still in love with me,” she declares, her hands casually smoothing her hair as if to emphasise her nonchalance. “That’s probably why he hasn’t taken it further with you.”

The tears well up in your eyes, but Arin remains utterly unfazed by your distress, her expression as composed as if she were discussing something trivial.

“I’m just waiting for him to come back to me, honestly, because that’s what he always does. But for some reason, he’s been infatuated and hooked on you for so long now. I guess the sex is that good, right?” Her words drip with insinuation, her smile sly and assuming.

Your laughter catches her off guard, and you can see the confusion in her narrowed eyes. Was she serious right now? Did she really think the only reason Jeno could ever be interested in you was for your body? In truth, you and Jeno haven’t had a lot of sex. You haven’t been ready for it, and he’s respected that. If only Arin knew. But you wouldn’t tell her. It’s frankly none of her business, and it’s incredibly intrusive of her to speak about your relationship with Jeno.

"I knew you'd understand," Arin smiles, her tone light but loaded with insinuation. Her words catch you off guard.

"What?" Your confusion is palpable, reflected in the slight furrow of your brow.

"Well, I know how much of a girl's girl you are—how sweet and loving. I have no doubt in my mind that you'd step away from whatever situation you’re having with Jeno," she continues, assuming a camaraderie that isn't there.

You huff, irritation spiking. "It's not a situationship, don't you dare—"

"It doesn't matter what it was," Arin cuts in dismissively. "The point is, I love Jeno and I deserve another chance with him. I know you'd understand. It's not like you feel anything for him, and he doesn’t like you either. It's obvious, why else hasn’t he asked you to be his girlfriend? He’s still in love with me."

Her words sting, a mix of arrogance and misguided assurance in her belief that she could manipulate your feelings. The audacity to suggest that your relationship with Jeno was anything less than genuine makes your heart race with a mix of anger and hurt.

Seconds later, your name floats across the room, spoken with a warmth that tugs at your heart. Jeno's presence cuts through, drawing every ounce of your attention. You force a smile as he approaches, though it feels hollow against the turmoil within you.

Jeno doesn’t hesitate as he reaches you, his gaze locked intensely on yours. There's a fervor in his eyes, a seriousness that chills you even as it pulls you closer. Without a word, he wraps you in his arms and kisses you passionately, his lips firm and insistent. As he pulls away, his lips find your forehead, pressing against your skin in an act so tender it sends shivers down your spine.

"Are you okay, baby?" His voice is a soft rumble, filled with genuine concern. You look up at him, your eyes wide and vulnerable.

"Just a bit overwhelmed," you whisper, your voice cracking under the weight of emotions. You're acutely aware of Arin's lingering presence nearby, her shadow casting a pall over the moment. Jeno seems oblivious to her, his attention undividedly yours, his hands holding you with a protectiveness that feels both comforting and profound.

You shiver, whether from the cold or the intensity of the situation, you can’t tell. Jeno notices immediately, his brow furrowing with worry. "Are you cold, beautiful?" he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. Before you can answer, he gently slides his jacket over your shoulders. The fabric is warm from his body and you get lost in the scent of him. 

"Thank you, Jen," you manage, a small smile playing on your lips, touched by his thoughtfulness.

"I’ve been trying to find you, where did you go?" he asks, his tone light but his eyes searching yours for deeper answers.

You take his drink from his hands before you can answer. He rolls his eyes, telling you not to get carried away with drinking tonight, but you wouldn’t listen, especially when he tears the cap off with his teeth and holds it for you, leaving a soft kiss on your lips before you down it.

As you down the drink, the alcohol burns your throat, causing you to choke and cough. "Slow down," he chuckles, his hand rubbing your back gently to soothe you. He wipes away some of the alcohol that had dribbled down your chin, his touch tender and affectionate.

He leans in for another kiss, his lips meeting yours in a sweet, lingering embrace. When he tries to take the drink from you to slow your pace, you pout playfully, earning another affectionate peck on the lips. The two of you are lost in your own little world, you allow

yourself to forget about Arin just for this moment.

“Why are you so stressed out?” Jeno’s voice broke through the air 

“Because Arin here is telling me to back off and stop fucking you,” you replied with a nonchalant tone. Your voice was steady, but your hands betrayed you, fidgeting with the hem of his jacket.

That’s when Jeno’s eyes shifted, landing on Arin for the first time since he came over. His look was a mix of disgust and confusion, tinged with an unmistakable uninterest. She had been so silent, her presence had almost slipped your mind. But there she was, just observing, as if waiting for a crack to appear in the facade of your evening.

“Don’t listen to her,” Jeno said firmly, his voice raised just enough for Arin to catch every syllable. It was as if she wasn’t even worthy of his gaze, let alone a direct confrontation.

He then leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear, a stark contrast to the chill that Arin’s words had left behind. “We haven’t even been fucking. Half the time she’s living in another universe, so don’t give her any attention, okay? Don’t give her the satisfaction of knowing she’s bothered you,” he whispered, his words a soft but potent shield against the chaos Arin tried to sow.

Jeno's reaction is sudden and sharp as he hears your words, his face contorting into an expression of disbelief. “What else did she say?” he asks, his voice tinged with an edge that makes you hesitate. When you reluctantly admit, “Apparently you still love her,” a laugh bursts from him—one you’ve never heard before. It's not filled with amusement but rather a harshness that makes even you feel a sting of guilt for Arin. The sound hits her visibly, the impact evident in her faltering demeanor. 

Jeno’s grip on your hand tightens, his frustration palpable as he turns towards Arin with a piercing glare. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he demands, his voice booming in the small space, drawing the attention of those nearby. 

Arin, trying to defuse his anger, pleads with a shaky voice, “Jen, don’t be angry—”

But he cuts her off sharply, “Don’t call me that.” His response is so cold, so final, it makes you flinch; you've never seen him this furious, this detached from his usual warmth.

Realising the scene might escalate, you turn his face to meet yours, cupping his cheeks gently. His eyes, which had been hard and unforgiving, soften immediately under your touch. His breath evens out as you whisper soothingly, “Jen, don’t make a scene, okay?” 

Jeno hums, his brow furrowed in frustration, his body tensing as he turns back to Arin. There's a cold sharpness in his eyes now, a clear signal that he's far from finished. "What else did you say?" he demands, his voice low and threateningly calm.

Arin swallows hard, visibly shaken by his intensity. "Me and Y/N just had a heart to heart," she stammers, attempting to paint a picture that never existed. "We talked about how she'd take a step back from whatever situation you two have gotten yourselves into. That way, I could tell you the truth, show you how much you mean to me, commit for real. I know you don’t trust me yet, and that it will take a lot of work, but I’m willing to try. Are you? I really do love you, Jeno, and I always have."

The silence that follows is heavy, filled with tension that makes the air thick and difficult to breathe. Jeno's face cycles through emotions rapidly—humour gives way to disbelief, and then a scorching anger that flares intensely in his eyes. The transformation is so sudden, so severe, it sends a chill down your spine. You want nothing more than to reach for his hand and pull him away, but the moment demands your presence, your witness to his raw, unrestrained emotion.

"What is wrong with you?" Jeno's voice cracks like a whip, each word dripping with disdain and incredulity. His stance is imposing, the muscles in his jaw twitching with barely restrained anger.

Arin, teary-eyed, looks up at him. "Jeno, am I so wrong for being true to my feelings?" Her voice breaks, a mixture of desperation and manipulation.

"You're pathetic," Jeno responds, the harshness in his tone slicing through the tense atmosphere. "You’re so pathetic. I can’t believe it." His words are not just a dismissal but a condemnation, delivered with a brutal honesty that even makes you gasp.

Arin's voice is a soft, broken whisper, almost pleading as she clings to a sliver of hope, tears streaking her face. "I know you’re still in love with me."

"I don’t love you, and I never will," he states firmly, his voice void of hesitation or doubt.

Arin’s plea intensifies, her emotions raw. "You used to love me, you used to love me so much—"

"And you're making me regret ever feeling that way," he interrupts sharply, his tone laced with a harshness that draws a startled gasp from you. The situation escalates quickly, his anger palpable.

Through her sobs, Arin struggles to comprehend the finality in his voice. "How can feelings like that just disappear? How can you move on so easily?"

Jeno’s anger simmers into a cold, controlled calm. "Honestly, just stop talking now," he commands, the tension in his voice still evident but more restrained.

"Jeno—" Arin tries to interject, desperation tingeing her voice.

"Arin." He warms, the bitterness in his tone a stark contrast to the sweetness with which he usually says your name. "I don’t want to hear anymore. I don’t want to talk to you ever again. We're going around in circles, and it’s clear I’ve moved on. You should too."

“Look, if you ever upset Y/N again, if you make her feel this way again, I won’t stand for it. I’m not just upset because of what you said about us, but because you hurt someone important to me. She doesn’t deserve to be dragged into our past. You need to respect that and stay away.”

Jeno's confrontation had echoed loudly through the bar, drawing eyes from every corner. As he turns around and pulls you into a tight hug, you feel the weight of those stares, the lingering tension from the audience that had gathered. His arms wrap around your waist firmly, holding you close. Even as he releases you, you sense his reluctance, his smile barely held back as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, bringing him even closer.

The curiosity and concern of the onlookers press on you, and your only thought is to take him away, to calm him down. You gently lay your hand over his, feeling the stiff muscles beneath his skin. Leaning in, you whisper into his ear—words only for him, soothing and meaningful. You watch his eyes close, a nod acknowledging your comfort, but his face remains tense, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.

Seeking to lighten the mood, you kiss his eyelids gently and ask with feigned casualness, "How much sleep did you get last night?"

"About two hours," he mumbles, his voice thick with exhaustion.

"That explains why you're looking like a zombie," you tease gently, hoping to draw out a real smile. He lets out a low chuckle, not quite his usual laughter but appreciated all the same. Normally, your jokes would have him laughing heartily, but tonight it's forced, you were only trying to cheer him up. Yet, you feel his gratitude radiating back to you; he's thankful for your efforts to ease his mind, for trying to make him forget the stressful confrontation.

"Let's go home now, yeah?" you suggest softly, each word laced with concern, eager to leave the charged atmosphere of the bar behind. He nods silently, the agreement solid and sure.

As you both prepare to leave, Jeno drapes his arm protectively around your shoulders, guiding you through the crowd. The physical closeness comforts you both, a silent promise of support as you walk out of the bar together, leaving the whispers and stares behind in the dimmed lights.

The second you’ve guided him away your hands find his cheeks, cradling his face with a tender touch that you hoped would soothe his ruffled emotions. In the dim light of the parking lot, his eyes searched yours for reassurance, finding solace in the calm you offered amidst the storm.

As you led him to the car, your fingertips lightly traced the contours of his face, planting soft, reassuring kisses across his forehead, cheeks, and finally his lips. "I'm so proud of you," you whispered against his lips, the warmth of your breath mingling with his. "You got everything off your chest."

He nodded, his eyes reflecting a mix of relief and residual tension as he pulled you closer, sealing your affirmations with a kiss that spoke volumes of gratitude and a lingering trace of sadness. 

As you reached for his car keys, Jeno's hand covered yours, stopping you gently but firmly. He finally spoke up, a hint of laughter in his voice to ease the tension, "No way, I don’t have a death wish," he joked, but his tone quickly turned serious, the humor fading as he looked directly into your eyes. "You mean so much to me," he continued, each word weighted with earnestness. "I don’t know what I did to deserve someone like you, but I'm not letting go. You're all mine."

"All yours.”

──────────────────────────────

You catch the hoodie Jeno tosses your way and pull it over your head, replacing your top with the comforting scent and warmth of his clothing. Watching him make his way to the edge of the bed, you notice how the night had etched itself into his form—the tension in his muscles, the fatigue in the set of his jaw, his skin glistening slightly under the dim room light.

Approaching quietly, you sit beside him, close enough to share warmth but giving him the space he seems to need. You reach out tentatively, resting your hand lightly on his back. The skin under your touch is warm, slightly damp with the sheen of stress. You start to move your hand in slow, comforting circles, trying to soothe the tension that has him so tightly wound.

The room is only filled with the soft, rhythmic sound of his breathing, each exhale slightly shaky as he tries to regain his composure. "Jeno?" you whisper, breaking the silence gently as you wait for him to meet your eyes. When he finally looks at you, the heartbreak in his gaze is palpable, and it strikes you deeply. The dim light from the bedside lamp catches the tears brimming in his eyes, a rare display of vulnerability.

"Oh, Jeno," you whisper, your voice thick as you fight back your own emotions. Seeing him this vulnerable disorients you—Jeno, always the strong one, now so clearly in need of support. He draws you closer, 

As Jeno gently pulls you onto his lap, the physical closeness brings an immediate sense of comfort and security. Settling into this favored position, you can feel the warmth of his body radiating against yours. The firmness of his thighs provides a grounding stability, while his arms encircle your waist, drawing you even closer. His embrace is protective, his hands resting lightly on your back, a touch that’s both reassuring and tender.

Every breath he takes is a shared experience. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest against yours, the subtle tension in his body as he tries to relax. His heartbeat, strong and steady under the palm of your hand, beats a comforting rhythm in the quiet of the room.

“I hate seeing you like this,” you whisper, leaning into him, your forehead resting against his. The closeness allows you to see every detail of his face, the vulnerability in his eyes more apparent than ever. Your fingers gently push back a lock of his hair that had fallen across his forehead, and you wipe away a tear with your thumb. Each touch is filled with concern and a deep need to comfort him, to ease the distress that so clearly weighs on him.

"You can always trust me, you know?" you add softly, looking into his eyes for a moment of connection, hoping to reassure him of your support.

Jeno responds with a small, appreciative nod, his eyes briefly closing as if to savour the comfort your words bring. Then, with a gentle nudge, he shifts your positions on the bed, guiding you both to lie down. He settles back against the pillows, and you naturally find your place on top of him, your body aligned with his in a close, comforting embrace.

His arms wrap around you securely, a protective gesture that pulls you closer into his chest. You can feel the steady beat of his heart against your cheek, the warmth of his chest enveloping you. Each breath he takes is a subtle rise and fall, a rhythm that you find yourself syncing with as the tension slowly begins to melt away from both of you.

He gives you a tight-lipped smile and nods, a silent acknowledgment of your words but also a sign that he's still guarding his thoughts closely. “I know I can, baby.” 

“I can feel how tense you are, what’s up?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, making you shiver slightly. His arms tighten around you, drawing you even closer, his body language reflecting his concern and deep care.

You gulp, caught off guard by his perceptiveness. You’ve been trying to hide your own unease to put him first, but he always knows when something’s on your mind, just by looking into your eyes.

Taking a deep breath, you weigh your options but decide it’s better to be open with him. "Jen, I have been trying to tell you something and I've been worrying about how to say it," you begin, the weight of your confession making your heart race a bit.

He looks at you, concern flickering in his eyes as he senses the seriousness in your voice. "What’s up?" he asks, his voice rough, filled with both concern for you and the weariness of his own troubles.

“Nothing,” you lie softly, a sad smile touching your lips as you lay your head back down on his chest. “It’s not important.”

“You can always talk to me, you know,” he replies, his tone gentle, using your own words against you in a playful yet sincere way.

You giggle at the role reversal, the light moment bringing a flicker of warmth to the heavy atmosphere. “I know, I know,” you whisper back, allowing yourself a moment to just be held by him, feeling the steady beat of his heart and the rise and fall of his breathing.

“Do you wanna talk about your thing?” you suggest after a while, hoping he trusted you enough to share his heart with you. You would always listen and respect his feelings, they were so precious to you.

“No.” He says immediately, shaking his head. “I’m fine,” he insists in a tone that doesn’t match his heart. “Just feeling tired, it’s nothing more than that.”

And that was his first lie.

──────────────────────────────

Walking across the university campus feels different today. The echoes of last night's band performance seem to have followed you, with noticeable traction and attention specifically directed at you, almost as if the applause and cheers have spilled over into the daylight. It’s been gradually building up, this increasing visibility, but today the weight of it truly sinks in. Each step feels more observed, each glance carries a hint of recognition, making the campus pathways feel less like passageways and more like stages.

The change isn't loud or sudden, but the weight of it is undeniable. People notice you, recognize you. It's not because of anything you've done, but because of who you're seen with: Jeno. Your relationship with him, not quite defined but visibly close, has unwittingly thrust you into a spotlight.

You're aware of the looks, the whispers as you pass by. Your previous anonymity has been stripped away, leaving you exposed to curious eyes. Your connection with Jeno is evident in your affectionate gestures both on and off campus. Whether it's hugging, kissing, hand-holding, or sharing laughs, people often mistake your closeness for a romantic relationship. Despite this, neither you nor Jeno correct them, leaving the nature of your bond open to interpretation.

This spotlight isn't confined to the walkways of the campus; it extends into your online world too. Your Instagram, which once felt like a personal photo album, now buzzes with activity. Posts featuring Jeno, which you uploaded without a second thought, have attracted more attention than you could have imagined

Messages and interactions flood your inbox, each one just a variation of 'hey' from people who never noticed you before. You see through the thin veil of their sudden interest—it's insincere, a shallow attempt to connect with you, not for who you are, but for the company you keep.

The newfound attention is dizzying, but it's also exhausting. Each interaction, each forced conversation, drains you. What used to be simple walks to class are now peppered with stops and small talk, leaving you feeling more like a public figure than a student.

Some of them were bad interactions and attention—really bad. You’re working on a university project with Jiwon, someone you recently befriended. But she’s cool, and you need a partner for this project. The way you met wasn’t the nicest:

“So, you and Jeno have been getting close, right?”

Your stomach twists at the unexpected question, and you shoot Jiwon a puzzled look, trying to gauge her intentions. She meets your gaze with a knowing smirk, and you can’t help but feel a tinge of unease creeping up your spine.

“Who are you?” you respond cautiously, the edge in your voice betraying your suspicion.

“You know who I am,” she counters, her tone dripping with confidence.

But that’s the past. You always thought she was a bit weird, but she works hard, and you guess that’s just her way of being friendly. Little did you know what her true intentions were. 

As you typed away on your laptop, surrounded by stacks of musical textbooks, you couldn’t help but smile at the messages popping up from Jeno. A thousand thoughts whirled in your head, and none of them were focused on this project; you were utterly unfocused. Jiwon tapped away at her laptop across from you, occasionally glancing over with a too-curious gaze that prickled your comfort. The air between you, once filled with the soft clicking of keys and the rustle of pages turning, now carried a charge of tension.

“That was quite the show last night,” Jiwon started, the curiosity evident in her eyes as she peered at you over her laptop screen. “I saw you leave with Jeno.”

“Yeah, figures, we are seeing each other,” you responded dryly, not lifting your gaze from your screen, hoping your tone conveyed your lack of interest in discussing it further.

Jiwon's eyebrows quirk upwards, a mix of surprise and something else—a calculated interest—flashing across her features. "Really now? That’s... interesting. How long has that been going on?" Her tone is casual, but her eyes are too sharp, too keen, as if dissecting your every reaction.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, not liking the scrutiny or the direction this conversation is taking. "A while," you reply vaguely, keeping your eyes fixed on your laptop screen, hoping to convey your disinterest in continuing this line of discussion.

"But are you guys serious?" Jiwon presses, leaning forward, her voice lowering as if sharing a secret. "Because, you know, Jeno and Arin were a pretty intense thing. Everyone thought they were endgame."

“But they never were a couple. They were never boyfriend and girlfriend.” you say, keeping your tone deadpan.

“Oh honey, is that what he told you?” Jiwon responds, her voice dripping with sweet, mocking condescension.

“Is it not true?” you say, a hint of irritation seeping through, feeling foolish for even having to defend what Jeno told you.

Jiwon pauses, as if contemplating how much to reveal, her gaze sharp and calculating. "Well, it's complicated," she starts slowly, each word measured. "They weren't officially a couple, no. But they might as well have been. They were everything but in name. And sometimes, that's even stronger, don't you think?"

Her words hang in the air, heavy with implication. You feel a knot tighten in your stomach, the doubt she's planting beginning to sprout. Struggling to keep your voice steady, you confirm, "So, they were serious then." No matter what Jeno tells you, this confirms that he still had lingering attachment to her. 

Jiwon nods, a feigned sympathy in her eyes as she leans closer. "They were inseparable, everyone knew it. Just because there wasn't a label on it doesn't mean it wasn't real. Jeno... he's someone who feels deeply, you know? When he's in, he's all in. And he was all in with Arin."

You press your lips together, feeling the sting of her words. "But that's all in the past, right?"

"Sure," Jiwon replies, her tone noncommittal. "But the past has a way of sticking around, especially with feelings that intense. It's hard to just cut that off completely, don't you think?"

Her words echo in your mind, sowing seeds of insecurity. You wrestle internally with the implications of Jeno’s past with Arin, questioning whether the affection he shows you could truly eclipse his history with her. Across from you, Jiwon observes your reaction with a slight, knowing smile, her point landing effectively without the need for further elaboration.

Frustration and a touch of defiance rise within you as you process her insinuations about Arin. Clenching your jaw to quell the irritation, you assert firmly, “It’s different with us.” Your tone is resolute, an attempt to dismiss any comparisons she might be suggesting. “We’re happy. That’s all that matters.”

Jiwon nods, seemingly satisfied with your discomfort. She taps a finger against her lips thoughtfully. "Sure, sure. Just seems sudden, you know? Jeno moving on like that. Makes you wonder if it's really over with Arin, or if you're just a... distraction."

The word stings more than you'd like to admit, and you can't help but frown. "I'm not anyone's distraction," you snap, more sharply than intended, your fingers pausing above the keyboard.

"Hey, no offence," Jiwon raises her hands in mock surrender, her smile a little too wide to be sincere. "Just making conversation. You guys look cute together, really. Just hope it's for the right reasons, you know?"

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to calm the rising annoyance. "We should focus on the project," you suggest coldly, turning your attention back to your screen, signaling the end of this unwelcome discussion.

Jiwon shrugs, the smile still playing on her lips as she turns back to her laptop, but not before giving you a look that says she's not quite done digging. You exhale quietly, tension settling in your shoulders as you try to refocus on the work in front of you, Jiwon's words echoing uncomfortably in the back of your mind.

“Has he asked you to be his girlfriend?” she prods further, her gaze piercing as she waits for your response.

It’s none of your fucking business. 

“We’re just taking it slow,” you respond, your tone polite but laced with a hint of caution, unwilling to divulge too much.

“And you think he will?” she laughs cynically, the sound grating on your nerves as it echoes in the small room.

You shake your head in frustration. “Stop asking me such personal questions,” you implore, trying to keep your patience intact even as annoyance gnaws at the edges of your composure.

She ignores your discomfort completely. “Do you think he’s over Arin?”

“I—”

“Let me show you something,” she interrupts, a smug grin spreading across her face as she pulls out her phone, her eyes gleaming with malicious intent.

As the video plays, the image of school lockers floods the screen. You instantly recognise a younger Jeno steps into view, clad in his crisp school uniform, his face alight with youthful hope and nervous energy.

He's holding a single rose, his stance awkward yet sincere as he speaks to Arin, the words muted but his intentions clear in his earnest expression. The scene is painfully romantic, set against a backdrop of blooming flowers and classmates passing by with fleeting glances. You can't help but feel a sting as you watch him put himself out there, so vulnerable and open. He was asking her to be his girlfriend. 

But then, Arin's response comes—a shake of her head, her voice lost in the silent video, but her rejection palpable. The rose hangs limply in Jeno's hand as he nods, trying to mask his disappointment. The video ends with him turning away, a figure retreating in the face of unreciprocated feelings, leaving you with a bitter taste in your mouth. 

Jiwon grins at your reaction, revelling in your discomfort. It’s what she wanted, and you’re giving in. Doubt creeps in as you wonder why she approached you in the first place. Was this her ulterior motive all along?

“You’re just trying to get into my head, and it’s not going to work,” you retort, your voice stronger now, determined not to let her shake you. “Why would

that video hurt me? Jeno was a fetus in it and he’s moved on, he wouldn’t ever ask Arin to be his girlfriend today.” 

"But if he's moved on, why hasn't he made it official with you?" Jiwon probes further, her tone mockingly sympathetic. "You're just the girl he's with now. Not the one he wants."

"That's your opinion," you respond crisply, closing your laptop with a snap. "It doesn't matter to me. What Jeno and I have is between us."

“Ok but he’s never asked you to be his girlfriend, has me? I mean… that must sting. I know why he’s never asked, it’s because you guys don’t have anything in common—”

“Yeah, we don’t,” you agree, refusing to let her see how much her words are affecting you. She wants you to disagree and reflect so much so you don’t give her the satisfaction.

“Especially sexually. You’re some Christian virgin girl who’s into vanilla sex—”

“How do you know? Have you fucked me?” you snap back, your frustration boiling over.

“—and Jeno is wild and rough in bed,” she continues, her smirk widening at your discomfort. “You know, once me, Arin, and Jeno had a threesome. I bet he’d never be able to experiment like that with you.”

Jiwon's grin widened, a mix of satisfaction and malice in her eyes as she closely observed your reaction. It was exactly what she had hoped for, and you felt like you were inadvertently falling right into her trap. As you grappled with maintaining your composure, you couldn't help but wonder about Jiwon's motives for approaching you initially. Was this all some twisted strategy on her part? The thought made you feel both jealous and underappreciated, particularly stinging given Jeno had never formally committed to being your boyfriend or shown the kind of grand romantic gestures that Jiwon seemed to enjoy bringing up.

"I just wanna look out for you, girl to girl," Jiwon said, her voice dripping with false tenderness. "I have no clue how he’s wound up with you, you’re not what he’s used to, he’s more into girls like Arin so brace for heartbreak. You’re probably just someone to keep his bed warm; he'll go back to Arin, he always does."

Her words were a calculated strike, designed to undermine and provoke. Anger and frustration bubbled inside you, and impulsively, your hand slammed the laptop shut. The sound echoed sharply through the room, drawing the attention of everyone nearby. For a brief moment, Jiwon's satisfied expression flickered with surprise. But her smirk quickly returned, as if your reaction was a minor amusement.

"You're just trying to get into my head, and it's not going to work," you retorted sharply, your voice firm and your gaze steely. "You need to watch it."

The room fell silent, with a few scattered gasps from onlookers. Someone whispered loud enough for others to hear, "That's Jeno's girl," fueling a renewed sense of confidence within you.

Jiwon leaned back, her expression cooling into something more calculating. "Oh, I'm just concerned, that's all," she replied smoothly, feigning innocence. 

Finally, you had enough. When Jiwon casually suggested, "Yeah, we should continue working," you laughed in her face, a mix of disbelief and disdain coloring your response. "Can you leave? I don’t want to work with you anymore. Get out," you said assertively, leaving no room for her to argue.

Jiwon, caught off guard but maintaining her smug composure, quickly gathered her things and left, her departure marked by a silence that filled the room as everyone watched. You breathed a sigh of relief, proud that you stood your ground, yet unsettled by the seeds of doubt that lingered.

──────────────────────────────

The autumn leaves crunched under your feet as you walked through the campus, a crisp reminder that two weeks had already slipped by since your unsettling conversation with Jiwon. The vibrancy of the season felt at odds with the dreariness settling in your heart. You kept walking, your gaze fixed ahead, but your mind was anything but calm, cycling through recent events that had started to feel like weights around your neck.

Choosing to keep Jiwon’s words to yourself seemed like the wise choice initially, avoiding unnecessary drama. But now, that decision gnawed at you, breeding a loneliness that clung stubbornly to your thoughts. The mistrust it fostered wasn’t just about what Jiwon had said; it was the doubt about what else might be unsaid, the secrets that might be whispered behind closed doors or shared in hidden glances.

You sighed, thinking about the conversations that never happened—the ones about Arin, the discussions Jeno had with her, the ones he never brought up with you. They hovered in the air, palpable but unacknowledged, like specters of mistrust between you two. These matters had remained unspoken, transforming gradually into silent witnesses of your growing isolation.

The campus was bustling around you, students moving between classes, lost in conversations or laughter, a stark contrast to the solitude that felt like it was enveloping you more tightly with each passing day. You hadn’t really spoken to Jeno much, not about things that mattered. The once easy conversations, filled with laughter and deep confessions, had dwindled to nothing more substantial than hurried greetings and vague promises of ‘I’ll text you later’ as you passed each other in the hallways. The rarity of his presence, both physical and emotional, was becoming painfully evident.

You missed him. Not just the physical presence but the emotional connection that once seemed unshakeable. It felt as if he had receded into a shell, or worse, into a world where you could no longer reach him. Each brief kiss, each fleeting touch, left you more frustrated and flustered than before. They were mere echoes of what you used to share, reminders of the distance that had grown between you.

Jeno's reasons for being distant were valid, not just convenient excuses. It was evident in every hurried conversation and the rare, weary smiles he offered between his classes and study sessions. You had seen the tangible proof of his commitment—his desk, perpetually buried under books and papers; the late nights you caught him in the lab, soldering and sketching long after everyone else had left and his apron; always stained with oil or littered with bits of metal and wood.

He had made a clear choice to cut out distractions, putitng a hold on drinking, getting high and partying to buckle down on his engineering projects. There was no question about his discipline or his focus on the future. It was admirable, truly, and part of what you adored about him—his ability to commit so completely to his goals.

You always felt a surge of pride watching him, his determination palpable. Supporting him was never a question; you wanted his dreams for him as much as he did. Yet, despite your pride in his achievements and your awe for his aspirations, a small part of you felt sidelined.

As much as you admired his dedication, it pained you to feel like an outsider looking in. His life was filled with calculations and projects, and somewhere along the line, it felt like there was less and less room for you. It wasn’t that you doubted his affection, but his absence left a void that was hard to ignore. You supported him unconditionally, yet you couldn’t shake the feeling of being excluded from the very life you were cheering him on to build.

As you walked, a leaf drifted from a branch, spiraling down to land softly beside your shoe. You stopped, looking down at it, its vibrant reds and oranges stark against the gray pavement. It was beautiful and yet, so transient. A sudden fear gripped you, unbidden and sharp—was this what was happening to your relationship with Jeno? A beautiful thing, fading before it really had the chance to grow?

──────────────────────────────

As you and Sunwoo navigate the bustling pathways of the campus, his arm occasionally drapes around your shoulder, steering you clear of the occasional student and backpack that seem to emerge in your path like sudden obstacles. His touch is grounding, but you’re barely there, your gaze downcast, lost in a swirl of somber thoughts.

Sunwoo has been watching you closely, and his voice breaks the silence, tinged with concern. “Hey, you haven’t said much today. What’s going on?” He looks at you intently, giving you a gentle squeeze to reassure you that he’s there, really there for you.

You glance up, meeting his gaze, the familiarity of his earnest concern makes the words spill out of you, almost against your will. “I miss Jeno,” you confess, the words heavy with unshed emotion. “It just hurts a lot, not talking to him for so long. I’m always here to support him, even help him study… But it feels like he’s just shut me out.”

Sunwoo’s expression softens as he exhales deeply, trying to offer comfort. “I’m sure it’s not like that,” he says, although his voice carries a hint of doubt, sensing the depth of your distress.

Your next words are laced with a raw vulnerability, your heart overriding the logic you strive to hold onto. “It’s like… I can see it in his eyes, Sunwoo. He’s losing interest in me.” You pause, swallowing hard, the fear evident in your voice. 

Before Sunwoo can reply, his eyes shift past your shoulder, focusing on something—or someone—behind you. “He’s right there,” he says, nodding towards a figure in the distance. “Let’s go see if that’s true.”

You catch sight of Jeno through the sea of students, his laughter ringing clear, each chuckle like a melody you've yearned to hear. His back is to you, shoulders relaxed among friends. Heart pounding, you hesitate, then muster the courage to approach, tapping gently on his shoulder.

"Jen," your voice barely a whisper, yet it slices through the laughter, halting conversations. He turns, his friends drifting away, leaving you both in a sudden quiet. His smile is tight-lipped, a strained semblance of normalcy that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, which dart briefly as if searching for an escape or an excuse.

"You okay?" His words are automatic, the customary concern laced with an undercurrent of weariness. He seems poised to keep moving, to brush past this moment.

"Yeah, I just—I just miss you, that’s all. I hope you’re taking care of yourself," you say, the words more of a plea than a statement. Each syllable is heavy with unspoken emotion, a blend of longing and subtle accusation.

"I miss you too. I’m sorry for how busy I’ve been—" Jeno starts, his apology cut off by the earnest, almost desperate look in your eyes.

"I know you're busy, but can you please come over later? Or I can come to yours. We don’t even need to do anything, I just wanna be with you," you press on, your voice soft yet insistent, betraying your need for him, for the connection that has been fraying at the edges.

He sighs, his face a canvas of conflict and affection. "I have to study so I won’t be able to give you the attention I want to," he admits, his voice low.

"That’s fine… I just wanna be with you," you persist, a frown knitting your brows. "I’ve really missed you, I fear I’m going crazy. Haven’t I, Sunwoo?"

Turning to Sunwoo, who's been hovering a respectful distance away, he mumbles awkwardly, "Yeah, batshit crazy." 

"Don’t do that face," Jeno says softly, his hands cupping your face gently, steering your gaze back to him. His expression softens into one of deep affection, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. He pulls you into a hug, the motion swift yet full of intent. 

You exhale sharply, sinking into his embrace, your body finally relaxing after weeks of tension. His scent envelops you, familiar and comforting, grounding you in the moment. The world narrows down to the feel of his arms around you, the steady beat of his heart against yours.

"How about I see you tomorrow night?" he suggests, his voice a soothing balm.

You pout, longing for more immediate comfort, but he chuckles softly, his breath warm against your ear. "Just wait an extra day, okay? Can you do that for me?" His lips graze your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine.

"Tomorrow is when all my exams will end, so I’ll be all yours from that moment onwards. Yeah, baby? You like the sound of that?" His words are husky, promising not just his time but his undivided attention.

"All. Mine," you affirm, leaning up to capture his lips with yours, initiating a deep, fervent kiss that you both have missed. The kiss is intense, a mingling of relief and longing, drawing out the weeks of separation into a single point of connection.

The sensation that passes through Jeno at your words is ineffable, a surge that sets his very soul quivering like a plucked string. It’s an ancient rhythm, a silent symphony that whispers of something more profound than desire—too deep to name, too sacred to voice. His heart recognizes it, the strange alchemy of fear and longing intermingled, and it terrifies him. Yet, as his gaze locks with yours, there's an unspoken understanding, a yearning to surrender to this unnamed emotion.

He watches the happiness blossom on your face, and it dawns on him—the decision has already been made in the quiet spaces of his heart. “Come over tonight,” he finds himself saying, the words shaped by a newfound resolve.

Your smile, open and luminous, fans the flame within him. “I thought that you were busy tonight.” 

“I will be, but you can just sit on my lap while I work, and then we’ll stay up together when I’m done. I could take you somewhere nice, yeah? Or we can just chill. Just come over. I wanna be with you. I’m sorry I haven’t given you much time in the last two weeks; that’s all gonna change. I’ll never do that again. I don’t want you to feel like you’re not my priority. Let me make it up to you, tonight and tomorrow night.”

The promises tumble from him, each one a pledge to do better, to be better. And in that moment, he means every word with a fervency that startles him. The smile that dances across your lips is a beam of pure joy, igniting a similar glow within him.

The kiss you share is intense, a physical manifestation of all the unspoken words and pent-up emotions between you. His lips press against yours with a fervor that conveys his urgency, his need to make amends. The taste of him is familiar yet charged with the electric current of your shared anticipation. You respond with equal fervor, your own desire an echo of his own.

Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. His hands roam across your back, drawing you in until there's no space left between you. The heat of the moment rises, every movement of your lips and every glide of your tongues stoking the fire. Your breaths mingle, each gasp and sigh amplifying the hunger.

The world narrows down to just the two of you, to the sensation of his body aligned with yours, the soft sounds that spill from your lips into his. You can feel his heart racing against your chest, a testament to his intensity. And even as he whispers apologies against your lips, each kiss he plants is a silent promise of more—more time, more attention, more him.

But time, relentless and unforgiving, intrudes upon the moment. Jeno breaks away with a soft, lingering peck on your cheek, an endearment whispered into the air between you. “I’m already late,” he says, and though the words are an apology, his tone carries the weight of a promise. "I’ll see you tonight. Beautiful." You nod, a smile breaking through your earlier frustrations. As he turns to leave, a sense of anticipation fills you, the promise of tonight and tomorrow holding not just his presence but the revival of the intimacy you've both missed.

──────────────────────────────

As you sit on his lap, the room hums with the sound of his focused efforts, the occasional rustle of papers and the soft clicks of his laptop keys filling the air. He's immersed in his studies, his brow furrowed in concentration, a look of determination etched across his face. Every so often, he lifts his eyes from the screen to meet yours, offering a soft smile or a quick kiss—a silent acknowledgment of your presence.

The seriousness with which he approaches his work is undeniably attractive, adding an edge of admiration to the warmth blooming in your chest. His dedication reminds you why you fell for him in the first place. It's in these moments, even amidst the silence of concentration, that you feel a deep connection to him.

Suddenly, his voice breaks the quiet, a whisper so soft it pulls you from your reverie. "Turn around," he murmurs, his tone low and inviting. You hum in response, a sound of contentment that fills the small space between you.

"I'm taking a break. Turn around on my lap." His hands guide you gently yet firmly, ensuring your cooperation without needing to push. You can't help but smile as you obey, feeling the shift of his body beneath you as he helps maneuver you to face him. The movement is smooth, almost practiced, showing his familiarity with your body. 

Once positioned, you find yourself straddling him, your gaze locked onto his. His eyes, dark and intense, pull you in, and without another word, his lips find yours. The kiss is deep and consuming, igniting a fire that had simmered quietly while he studied. His lips move with a sureness that speaks of deep familiarity and longing, each press against yours a silent message of desire.

As the kiss deepens, his hands wander up your back, pulling you closer until there's no space left between you. His touch is both gentle and demanding, a contradiction that only he could manage so perfectly. You can feel the heat of his body through the thin material of your clothes, the warmth radiating between you creating an envelope of intimacy that shields you from the outside world.

"Good girl," he whispers against the shell of your ear after your lips part for a moment. His breath is warm, tickling the sensitive skin and sending shivers down your spine. He plants a soft kiss on your cheek, his lips lingering slightly as he speaks again. "You've been so patient with me while I work, not disturbing me. I should do this more."

"Do what?" you ask, your voice a whisper that matches his own.

"Have you on my lap," he responds with a hint of mischief in his voice, his hands tightening around you slightly. 

As you lean in, eager for another kiss, he pulls back slightly, a small crease forming between his brows—a silent signal of his concern. "You okay?" he asks, his voice laced with genuine care. Your eyes narrow playfully, trying to mask the flurry of emotions his simple question stirs within you. 

"I am, yeah." You attempt to bridge the distance for another kiss, but he resists gently, his gaze piercing deeper.

"Is there something on your mind? Talk to me, baby." His words halt your motions, a gentle reminder of how attuned he is to your feelings, sometimes catching nuances you haven't fully acknowledged yourself. As he looks into your eyes, it's as if he's peering into the depths of your soul, seeing beyond the facade to the tangled mess of thoughts and emotions you've pushed aside.

His gentle probing breaks through the facade you've maintained. Suddenly, emotions you've suppressed surge to the forefront, triggered by his keen perception. It’s not merely the closeness of his body that reassures you, but how deeply he sees into you. Beyond the physical intimacy, it's his emotional attunement to you—his ability to sense and respond to your unspoken thoughts and hidden feelings. In his gaze, you find a refuge for all that you've held back, a realization dawning on you of how profoundly connected you both are, far beyond the everyday exchanges of affection.

You sigh, gathering the courage to address the tangled feelings you've harboured over the past few weeks. As someone who values open communication above all in a relationship, you feel it's crucial to not let this pattern of silence persist with Jeno, especially when he matters so much to you.

"It started when you talked to Arin after my performance," you begin, watching his reaction closely. "I appreciated how you handled it—being clear about your feelings and moving on right then and there. It meant a lot to me."

Jeno nods silently, his eyes locked on yours, signaling his attention despite the surprise that flickers briefly across his face.

"But since then, something's changed," you continue, the words flowing more freely now. "You’ve seemed distant, harder to read. I understand the pressure you’re under with exams, and I see how hard you're working. I’m really proud of you for that." You pause, ensuring he's still with you. Jeno's nod encourages you to press on.

"However, I can’t help feeling that part of the distance might be due to what happened with Arin. Has it left you feeling confused or lost? I wouldn’t know as we haven’t really talked about it, and our communication has suffered.” 

"Speaking of which," you add, shifting slightly to gauge his reaction to what you’re about to reveal, "there’s something else you should know. Do you know Jiwon?”

"Arin's best friend?" Jeno asks, a trace of caution in his voice.

You nod and Jeno lets out a huff. “Yeah, she’s a bitch.” 

You hold back your laughter and continue. “She approached me recently, and she wasn’t kind. She implied that what you and I have isn’t serious. She told me I was just keeping your bed warm, that you weren’t over Arin and that you’d always go back to her."

Jeno's expression tightens, his jaw clenching slightly as he processes your words. "Oh, that’s what that was about," he murmurs, referring to something evidently on his mind.

You're puzzled. "What?"

"I heard a rumor around campus that you hit Jiwon. I meant to ask about it but forgot. So, did you hit her?"

You laugh, shaking your head. "No, I'm not violent. I wouldn't do that."

His gaze then sharpens, becoming more serious and focused. “Listen, don’t let her get to you. Jiwon doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She’s clueless about us, about what we have. It’s so much more than she could understand.” His reassurance is firm, meant to fortify you against the doubts seeded by outside voices.

“Is it?” You couldn’t help but question, the words slipping out softer than intended.

He hummed in confusion, his eyebrows knitting together. “Is it so much more? Because there’s been no real progression in our relationship, no steps forward.”

“We’re exclusive,” he replied quickly, as if that settled the matter.

But the conversation was already veering into deeper waters. “I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if you still had some lingering attachments or feelings for Arin. She was a huge part of your history, and it’s tough to just let that go. Is that why we haven’t had the ‘what are we’ talk? Because of Arin, because of what you might still feel for her?”

He didn’t see that coming. The shift in the room was palpable.

Sitting on his lap, you fiddled with the edge of his shirt, the physical closeness contrasting sharply with the emotional distance that seemed to widen with each word. the silence stretching painfully between you. It was unfortunate, really, that despite the serious conversations and the mutual admissions of wanting only each other, Jeno hadn’t moved things forward. He hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend yet, and that omission hung heavily in the room, a silent wedge driving doubt into your thoughts.

"Are you being serious right now?" Jeno’s voice sliced through the air, his sudden movement slamming his laptop shut so forcefully it made you flinch. His expression morphed into one of disbelief and annoyance. The intensity in his fiery gaze made you wince as he faced you, his voice thick with frustration. "After everything we’ve been through, every time I’ve opened up to you, you’re really gonna accuse me of that?" His laugh was sharp, a sound you'd never heard from him before, void of humour and filled with disbelief.

You swallowed hard, the weight of your accusation—that he was still not over Arin—hanging between you. "I just—I can't think of any other reasons and you’ve been acting differently ever since you confronted Arin," you countered, your voice raised in frustration, desperate for him to understand the insecurities that his hesitations had fostered.

Jeno's stance hardened, the muscles in his jaw working as he processed your words. "This is unbelievable. You know that's so far from the truth. You crossed a line, Y/N," he retorted, his tone a mix of anger and hurt. His eyes, usually so comforting, now mirrored the storm brewing within him.

You were a bit taken aback by his reaction. Sure, you expected him to be shocked, but not angry and offended. You weren’t used to this side of him, especially when directed at you. “It’s not a bad thing, Jeno, we can move past this.” You tried to hold his hand but were met with his clenched fists, so you placed your hand on top of his, soothing out his muscles and feeling relief when you saw him relax slightly beneath your touch.

“I didn’t say that you still loved her, it’s just obvious that you’re not fully over her. But it’s okay, no one is holding you to account for it and I understand, truly. Maybe to fully get over her you have to take the leap and be with me seriously.”

“It’s— it’s more complicated than that,” Jeno murmured, his voice heavy with a mix of emotions.

The question finally slipped out, “Why haven’t you asked me to be your girlfriend?” you pressed, feeling your heart thump painfully against your ribs.

His silence was telling, and when he finally spoke, his voice was weary, “I don’t know. I’m just not ready to be in a relationship, especially after what happened with Arin.“​

The room's stillness was heavy, punctuated only by the distant hum of the city through the open window. As you breathed in deeply, your voice, though shaky, cut sharply into the silence, "Then I’m done with this, with ‘us’." Your hands motioned in the space between you two, the severity of your own words washing over you, sending tears streaming down your face.

Jeno's expression softened, the earlier anger melting into a quiet desperation as he reached for you. "Baby—" he started, voice calm, trying to bridge the gap with a kiss, but you recoiled, stepping back.

"I want something serious. I want to settle down and commit. I want a boyfriend. But I obviously can’t find that in you, so I’m walking away before I’m even more hurt than I am right now." Each word was punctuated by a sob, the tears flowing freely as the realisation of your statement sank in. Could you really walk away from him now, especially when he had become the most important person in your life? His presence had intertwined so deeply with your own happiness that the thought of severing it felt like tearing part of yourself away.

Jeno stepped closer, his voice soft and urgent, "Look at me, please." Hesitantly, you lifted your eyes to meet him, and the vulnerability etched across his features stirred a deep, aching empathy within you.

"Don’t walk away from us, not yet," he implored, his voice soft and earnest. "You mean everything to me, more than I've ever let on."

He reached for your hand, his touch gentle, seeking connection. "It’s not about her—it’s about me. I’m scared of being hurt again, of diving in and finding myself lost," he confessed, his voice thick with emotion.

"You think I’d hurt you?" you asked, the hurt in your voice mirrored in your eyes. The idea seemed to widen the chasm of misunderstanding between you.

"No, that’s not what I’m saying," Jeno quickly clarified, his tone desperate to bridge the misunderstanding. "I’m just... I’m trying to protect my heart, but not at the expense of losing you."

"Because hurting you is the last thing I would ever want," he continued, his words sincere. "Please, just give me a little more time. I promise, I’m not letting go without a fight."

He looked earnestly into your eyes. "Just wait until tomorrow night, okay? I need to show you how much you mean to me. I don’t want us to end like this. I'll make everything right."

Your heart thudded painfully at his plea, torn between the fear of future pain and the undeniable bond that still pulsed so powerfully between you. Could you dare to hope that tomorrow might bring a new beginning, or was it just another promise waiting to be broken?

──────────────────────────────

“What’s up?” you hum to Sunwoo as he looks at you with a concerned expression.

“What’s wrong? I can tell when you’re not yourself,” he responds, his voice laced with worry.

You sigh, knowing there was no hiding your feelings from him. “It’s just—I kinda had an argument with Jeno and I think we left it on good terms but I’m still scared.”

“What was it about?” Sunwoo asks, his brow furrowing slightly.

“A few things, he’s been really distant lately and about the whole ‘Arin’ thing,” you reply, hesitant to delve into the details, and thankfully, Sunwoo nods in understanding, sparing you from having to elaborate.

“Aren’t you supposed to spend some time with him tonight?” he inquires.

You nod. “I am. I’m already feeling awkward about it but I want it to be good. I want to celebrate his end of exams with him. I want him to be able to relax and I want to forget about our argument just for tonight, and then we can have a more serious conversation.”

Feeling a momentary lift in your spirits, you grin mischievously at Sunwoo. “I wanna have a good time with him tonight, and I think you can help,” you suggest, segueing smoothly into your request.

“Sooooo, you know how you’re my best friend and you love me so much that you’d do absolutely anything for me?” you tease, sneaking up behind Sunwoo and draping an arm around his shoulders.

He rolls his eyes, already anticipating the favor about to be requested. “What do you want?”

“You’re throwing a party tomorrow, right? For Yeji?” you ask, your tone playful.

A smile breaks across his features, his fondness for Yeji never a secret. “Of course, I am,” he replies, his tone carrying a mix of pride and affection—it's probably the 10th party he's thrown for her.

“To celebrate her finishing exams?” you continue, nudging him gently to keep the mood light.

He nods in confirmation, his smile still wide.

“Jeno’s finishing his exams too…” you trail off, giving him a meaningful look.

“Throw him your own damn party,” Sunwoo retorts quickly, guessing your next words before they even leave your lips.

“No! That’s not what I want,” you protest, your voice full of earnestness. You pull out a piece of paper from your pocket and hand it to him, your grin mischievous. “I’m just kindly asking if you can do all of these things before tonight.”

Sunwoo’s eyebrow arches as he scans the list, visibly taken aback. “You’re really doing all this for him?” He can't hide his surprise as he reads through the detailed list, which includes all of Jeno’s favorite snacks, drinks, and even specifics on the type of alcohol and drugs. It’s clear you’ve put a lot of thought into personalizing the party for Jeno as well.

“Just go to your usual dealer; I’ll send you the money once you’ve got them,” you plead, your voice a blend of determination and hope.

He pauses, looking at you with a mix of admiration and skepticism. “Are you guys boyfriend and girlfriend yet?” he probes, his tone teasing yet serious beneath the surface.

You beam at him, your face alight with hope and a touch of nervous excitement. “I wanna ask him tonight,” you confess, your expression one of innocent trust, eyes sparkling with adoration for Jeno. Your enthusiasm is infectious, and even Sunwoo can’t help but feel a bit moved by your dedication.

──────────────────────────────

The evening had started with a flutter in your heart, excitement flowed through every motion as you prepared for what was supposed to be a memorable night. Each stroke of the makeup brush on your cheeks, each swipe of mascara was laden with anticipation. The mirror reflected back a hopeful version of yourself. Tonight isn’t just any night; it’s the night you’ve been counting down to, the night when all the pieces are supposed to fall into place with Jeno.

In your bedroom, the air was perfumed with your favourite scent, a subtle floral that Jeno had always loved. The dress you slipped into was a soft, figure-hugging mini that he had picked out on one of your dates, remembering how his eyes lit up when he saw it on you. It was more than just fabric; it was a reminder of his taste, his touch, his presence. As you adjusted the straps, the silky material felt like a whisper against your skin, each movement a call to the night’s potential.

Descending the stairs to the living area, every detail you had arranged caught your eye and tugged at your heartstrings. Jeno’s favourite snacks were arrayed meticulously on the counter, his preferred drinks chilled to perfection, the soft glow of the ambient lighting setting a cozy, inviting scene. 

As the doorbell rings and guests start to fill the space, the atmosphere shifts from quiet anticipation to vibrant festivity. Laughter rings out, glasses clink, and music swells—a perfect backdrop for what was meant to be a perfect evening. But as hours slip by, your smiles begin to stretch too thin, your laughs sound too forced. With each passing moment, the weight of Jeno's absence grows heavier.

Leaning against the wall, your phone felt like a leaden weight in your clutch. The screen lit up with each anxious glance—no new messages. Your heart sank a little more with each passing minute. Mingling through the crowd, you tried to engage, to be present, but the buzz of conversation around you felt distant, muffled by the growing dread that he might not show up.

"Hey, enjoying yourself?" Sunwoo nudges you with a smile as you both lean against the wall, watching the crowd.

"Yeah, so much," you reply, your voice hollow. You want to tell him, spill everything about how you're waiting for Jeno, how he promised he'd be here, but the words cling to the back of your throat, unspoken.

As the party hits its fifth hour, reality settles like a cold shadow across your spirit. He's not coming. He forgot. The realisation severs the last thread of hope you were clinging to, and quietly, you retreat to your room, away from the noise, away from the reminders of what tonight was supposed to be.

The transition was brutal. The hallway to your room seemed longer than ever, each step heavier than the last. Inside, the dimly lit space greeted you with its meticulously planned romantic ambiance now feeling like a stage set for a play where the lead actor would never show. The candles flickered, casting shadows that danced mockingly on the walls. The playlist you had carefully curated played low in the background, each song a reminder of what the night could have been.

Your gaze inevitably drifts to the corner where you had arranged everything just for him. Among the glowing candles and cozy ambiance lay several small baggies, each containing Jeno's favorite drugs and pills—a special treat you had secured to celebrate the end of his exams and enjoy together. The sight of them, still untouched, hurts, you had carefully chosen each one, you paid attention to his likes yet he didn’t show up. 

You hadn't touched a drop of alcohol all night, resisting the temptation of the freely flowing drinks at the party. You wanted to be fully present, fully aware, to take care of him, to celebrate with him, to be there for him in every way you could..

Sitting on the edge of your bed, you dialed his number again, the ringing tone echoing in the hollow room. No answer. The phone fell from your hand, landing softly beside you. Around you, the soft fabric of the pillows, the dim glow of the candles, spoke of a solitude that was both physical and emotional. The tears come then, unchecked, the sobs shaking your shoulders as you curl up amidst the pillows. You try his number again, the sound of the ring hollow in the quiet room.

He promised. 

Outside, the party raged on, oblivious to the quiet devastation unfolding just floors above. The contrast between the external joy and your internal desolation painted a vivid picture of your current reality. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration of beginnings, yet it felt like an acknowledgment of an ending.

As you lay there, curled in the darkness of your room, the decorations you'd so carefully arranged transformed into stark reminders of your solitude. In the silent echoes of the night, you were left to confront the painful realization that perhaps you were never as significant in Jeno's life as he was in yours.

The door creaks open, and Eunji’s concerned face appears in the doorway. She doesn’t say a word at first; she simply walks over and envelops you in a warm embrace. As you lay your head on her lap, the floodgates open, and you let the tears flow freely.

��What happened? Is it Jeno?” Eunji’s voice is soft, filled with worry.

Between broken sobs, you manage to speak. “He was—he was supposed to meet me but he never showed up.” You tell her everything that’s been on your mind, things you’ve kept caged inside: how you planned this to celebrate the end of his exams, how excited you were for tonight, and how you’ve felt his growing distance these past weeks.

Eunji strokes your hair gently, her touch soothing. “Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry,” she murmurs, handing you tissues and letting you cry it out without judgement.

Nayoung bursts into the room just then, her expression turning from concern to outrage as she pieces together the situation from the remnants of your tear-streaked explanation. “I’m gonna kill him,” she declares, kneeling in front of you with fierce protectiveness.

You can’t help but let out a weak giggle, despite the tears, as Eunji and Nayoung begin to playfully argue about how to handle the situation.

“If you give me the word, I swear I’ll march right over there and knock some sense into him. Heck, I’ll threaten to cut off his hands and his cock with his own engineering tools if that’s what it takes to show him he can’t treat you like this!” she exclaims, her voice a mix of frustration and protectiveness.

Eunji immediately interjects, her tone soothing yet decisive. “Let’s take a breath here, Nayoung. Threatening violence isn’t going to help anything. We need to think clearly and not let anger cloud our judgment.”

“But he’s making her miserable!” Nayoung argues, waving her hands emphatically towards you. “Someone needs to teach him a lesson, and it needs to be loud and clear.”

Eunji sighs, her expression softening as she looks between you and Nayoung. “I know he does, I really do. But let’s focus on being here for Y/N. Adding more chaos to the storm won’t help her heal.”

Nayoung grumbles but sits down next to you, her energy simmering down slightly. “Fine, but I’m serious. If you just nod once, I’m out that door to give him a piece of my mind. Who forgets a night like this after everything she’s done for him?”

Eunji gently squeezes your hand, her voice warm and reassuring. “We’re right here with you, for whatever you need. It’s perfectly okay to let it all out. Cry, get angry, express how you feel. We won’t leave your side.”

Nayoung’s earlier fire turns to a gentle firmness. “And hey, if yelling at him ever seems like the right move, just give me a nod. I’ve got plenty of volume for the both of us.”

Nayoung’s expression turns serious as she holds your hand tightly, her usual bravado giving way to a look of concern. “I need to show you something,” she says, her voice soft and hesitant.

She pulls out her phone and opens Instagram, scrolling through a series of stories posted by Jeno's friends. Handing you the phone, her touch lingers, as if unsure whether to let go. As you watch, a timeline unfolds, capturing a night that diverges sharply from the one you had planned together.

The photos and videos start innocently enough, with Jeno and his friends toasting to the end of exams. He had told you about this part—just a few drinks to celebrate their freedom before he was supposed to come over. But as you swipe through the stories, the images reveal a night that quickly spiralled beyond a simple celebration.

Each update shows Jeno progressively more engulfed in the festivities. He’s laughing loudly, surrounded by a crowd of equally drunk friends. The videos show them clinking glasses repeatedly, the table cluttered with empty bottles—a clear sign of the night’s excesses. Jeno appears increasingly carefree, his eyes bright with the uninhibited joy of the moment, so drunk and visibly high, completely absorbed in the revelry around him.

The pain of seeing him this way—so lost in a moment that doesn't include you—cuts deeply. Tears cloud your vision as the realization sinks in: he was too caught up in his own fun to remember his promises to you.

You cover your face with your hands, unable to watch anymore, as sobs shake your body. “I hate him,” you manage to whisper, each word choked out between cries of heartbreak.

Nayoung wrapped an arm around you, her presence a comforting counter to the sharp sting of the images, trying to lighten your heart with a gentle joke. But you couldn’t muster a laugh, not with your heart in such turmoil. “We had an argument last night… it got quite tense, but I thought we aired it out; he even promised to make things right the next night,” you explained through tears, your voice trembling. “What if he’s angry at me because of what happened and what I said to him?” The worry in your voice was palpable, the fear of his anger making you second-guess the harsh words that had passed between you.

Nayoung holds up her phone hesitantly, knowing there’s more you need to see. “Y/N, I’m not done…” she murmurs, her voice thick with sympathy. She swipes to a new set of photos, and there’s Arin, looking effortlessly stunning among a couple of her friends. They’re laughing, sipping drinks, the glow of the party lights casting a radiant sheen on her face. Your heart sinks further, the pain twisting like a knife as involuntary sobs wrack your body once again.

But Nayoung quickly interjects, her tone turning analytical, a sharp contrast to the emotionality of the moment. “They aren’t together in any of these pictures,” she points out firmly. “And I can text some people who can tell me if they were close tonight. They’ll tell the truth.” She types rapidly on her phone, her brow furrowed in concentration.

The longest few minutes of your life crawl by until Nayoung’s phone buzzes. “Okay, so Winter messaged me back. You know Winter, right? The really sweet and shy girl who’s always with Karina? She doesn’t drink much, so we can trust her word.” You nod, urging her to continue with a desperate glance.

“Okay,” Nayoung exhales with a measure of relief. “She told me that Arin and Jiwon just kind of turned up unannounced. Nobody really wanted them there. Everyone was pretty hostile and cold to them, especially Jeno and his friends. Apparently, they kept a good distance the whole night, and Jeno acted like she wasn’t even there.”

Your breath hitches at the news, a mix of relief and residual pain swirling within. Nayoung quickly adds, “Ooohh, okay, Karina also messaged me back.” She sighs, reading the new message. “Karina said that Arin kept trying to get close to him, to push into his space, but Jeno was having none of it. Even though he was high, he kept telling her to back off, literally saying, ‘Get the fuck away from me’ and ‘Don’t fucking touch me.’”

Your eyes widen slightly, processing this new information. Yet, despite the assurances, a hollow feeling lingers. “That doesn’t make me feel any better,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

Nayoung nodded, her expression softening in understanding. “I honestly just think he made a stupid mistake,” she said thoughtfully. “He’s not a bad guy, and we all know that. Obviously, he needs to be more mindful, and he deserves the cold shoulder from you for a while to realise the impact of his actions.” Her words, meant to be comforting, still left room for your conflicted emotions to simmer.

Nayoung’s words hung in the air, giving you a bit to ponder, but it was Eunji who broke the silence, her voice as soothing as ever. She squeezed your hand gently, offering a calm anchor in the storm of your emotions. “Whatever you need, we’re here for you,” she assured you with a warm smile. “We can eat all his favorite snacks, drink his drinks, and talk all night. Or we can just sit here quietly. You tell us what you need.”

Nayoung nods, her earlier anger now replaced with a somber, supportive silence, and Eunji pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around you. The three of you sit in a quiet huddle, the noises of the party fading into the background as you lean on each other for support in the dim light of your room, finding solace in the presence of friends in a moment fraught with heartbreak.

“I wanna get high,” you whisper suddenly, a stark contrast to the comforting scene. You rise from the huddle, your hands shaking slightly as you reach for the baggies you had set aside for Jeno. Each packet crinkles under your fingers, the sound unusually loud in the tense silence.

Nayoung and Eunji exchange a glance, concern etched deeply on their faces. “Y/N, maybe that’s not the best idea right now,” Nayoung says, her voice soft but firm.

Ignoring their caution, you briskly fix your makeup, trying to wipe away the trails of tears, preparing to face the remainder of the party with a different kind of numbness. “I need to forget tonight, just for a little while,” you mutter as you pocket the pills.

Descending back to the party, the lights and music assault your senses, a vivid contrast to the dark stillness of your room. You start downing shots, the alcohol sharp on your tongue, each swallow a burn that you hope will erase the sharp edges of your hurt. The pills in your pocket feel like a promise of further escape, a temporary relief from the pain that now consumes you.

After what feels like hours, your senses dulled by the mix of pills and alcohol, a sudden stir pulls you from the haze. There he is—Jeno. His arrival slices through the crowd, an unwelcome shock to your numbed heart. He’s not alone; a swarm of his friends buzz around him, their laughter and cheers a stark contrast to the heavy silence you've wrapped around yourself. They are celebrating, oblivious to the wreckage of your evening, to the fact that he's already too late.

You turn away sharply, a reflex to shield your heart from further damage. The sight of him brings a rush of anger and hurt, emotions you're not ready to face. You don't care why he's here now; his presence feels like an intrusion, a painful reminder of what you'd hoped this night would be.

Moving to a quieter corner of the party, away from the boisterous group, you try to disappear into the shadows, to find solace in solitude. But the fragments of overheard conversations tug at your attention.

"Jeno! Man, chill!" It's Jaemin's voice, laced with stress and concern. You glance back, catching a glimpse of him running a hand through his hair, his expression one of someone who didn’t plan to spend his night this way. He’s dressed casually, as if he’d been dragged here against his will, but he came for a reason—Jeno.

From the snippets you catch, it's clear Jeno is far from alright. He’s staggeringly high, more lost to the world than you've ever seen him before. Jaemin tries to manage him, to somehow bring him back from the edge where he teeters. The scene paints a picture of chaos, of a night gone terribly wrong. Jeno had lost control, spiraling in a way that none of his friends had anticipated.

The party's clamor surrounds you, a din of laughter and music that feels alien to your current mood. "Y/N," a voice calls out, tugging you back to the present. It's Jaemin, his expression marked with concern.

You manage a weak smile, your gaze darting anywhere but into his eyes. A surge of anger bubbles within you, though you remind yourself that Jaemin isn't the one to blame.

"Have you seen Jeno?" he asks. 

You shake your head, your response terse. The less you say, the better you can manage the simmering frustration.

"Did you throw this party for him?" Jaemin probes, his eyebrow arched in suspicion.

"No. It’s Sunwoo’s party," you reply, sharper than intended. The last thing you want is for anyone to know this was all for Jeno—a party he never even planned to attend.

"You don’t need to lie to me, you know. You did all of this stuff for him," Jaemin continues, his voice softening as he glances at the table laden with Jeno’s favorite drinks and the pills protruding from your pocket. "I bet you’re even wearing some pretty lingerie under—"

"I’m not," you interject, cutting him off before he can finish. The humiliation of it all is too much to bear.

"And he only showed up now?" Jaemin's voice is tinged with disbelief.

You nod, unable to muster the energy for more words.

Jaemin sighs, his eyes filled with a mix of disappointment and apology. "I know it won’t mean much coming from me but I’m really fucking sorry. That’s not fair, and you don’t deserve that from him. Don’t worry, I’ll tell him, I’ll make sure he makes things right—"

"Please don’t," you interject, your voice small yet pleading. "It’s embarrassing. Seeing how much effort I put in all to be stood up... I just want to forget about it all. I don’t want him to know. Please promise me you won’t say a word."

Reluctantly, Jaemin extends his pinky. You know you can trust him, and he solemnly agrees with a pinky promise.

"I’m not trying to justify what he did, because it’s unacceptable and he needs to make things right. He needs to realize that on his own," Jaemin continues, his tone serious. "But he’s been really focusing on his exams these last few weeks, shutting out everyone, even me. He’s been an academic weapon. He hasn’t smoked, gotten drunk, or done drugs since exams started, so I guess tonight was his blowout. He always goes overboard when exams finish. When he’s that high, not a single thought goes through his mind."

"That doesn’t make anything better," you reply coldly.

"I’m sure he was supposed to meet you and go but forgot, like genuinely. It doesn’t make anything better, but I’m sure it was an actual mistake from him. It wasn’t intentional. I know Jeno; he’s not a bad guy. He wouldn’t do that for no reason," Jaemin insists, trying to offer some solace, however small.

"Tell him not to call or talk to me from now on," you say, the finality in your voice echoing your resolve.

"Come on, he really likes you," Jaemin tries again, but you're already walking away, distancing yourself from the conversation and the painful realities it confirms. As you merge back into the shadows of the party, Jaemin's words linger, but they do little to mend the ache that has firmly settled in your heart.

The music thrums through the room, each beat a relentless echo of the night’s unraveling. You’re still reeling from the conversation with Jaemin, your mind a tangled mess of anger and sorrow. In your haste to escape the intensity of the moment, you turn sharply, your movement quick and unthinking. The sudden motion sends you crashing into someone. Stabilizing yourself, you look up, ready to apologize, but the words die on your lips as your eyes lock with Jeno’s.

It’s him. The very person who’s at the center of your turmoil, standing right in front of you, almost as if fate had cruelly steered you into his path. His presence strikes you with the force of an unexpected wave, overwhelming and disorienting. For a second, the world seems to slow down, the noise of the party fading into a dull roar in the background. 

He looks so good it hurts. There’s an effortless charm to him even now, disheveled as he might be, with his t-shirt slightly askew revealing a hint of his collarbone, and those jeans that always seem perfectly fitted, suggesting the contours of his toned legs. His hair, usually neatly styled, hangs loosely around his face, strands falling over his forehead in a way that somehow highlights the sharpness of his cheekbones and jawline.

He’s a vision, undeniably handsome—every inch the kind of distraction that has always drawn you in, despite tonight’s circumstances. His eyes, though dilated and clouded slightly by his indulgences, still hold that familiar warm glint when they meet yours, making it hard for a moment to remember the disappointment simmering inside you.

"Hi baby," he says, his voice smooth despite the noticeable slur, his words tumbling into one another yet filled with a warmth that pulls at you. He reaches out, attempting to pull you into his embrace, his movements confident yet slightly uncoordinated.

You instinctively start to lean into the comfort he offers before the reality of the evening snaps you back. "Go and fucking touch Arin," you retort sharply, pushing against his chest, forcing some physical distance between you as a barrier to the emotional torrent threatening to spill over.

Jeno pauses, his arms still outstretched, his expression morphing from affectionate to puzzled. "What? No, it’s you I—"

"Don't," you cut him off, the firmness in your voice belying the ache in your chest. The sight of him so carefree, so unaffected, stirs a tumult of emotions within you. His shirt, slightly lifted from the motion, reveals just a hint of the abs you've traced so many times, a reminder of the many moments of intimacy now overshadowed by the night’s revelations.

"I'm here for you," he continues, his voice earnest, a stark contrast to the blithe disregard his actions have demonstrated. His eyes try to meet yours, searching for an in, but you divert your gaze, unwilling to get lost in the depths of blue that have always seemed to see right through you.

He’s beautiful, infuriatingly so, and even now, clouded by substances, there’s a sincerity in his effort to connect that makes your resolve waver. But the hurt of being forgotten, of being secondary to his celebrations, hardens your heart once more.

Your heart throbs painfully against your ribcage, a silent echo of the night’s crushing disappointment. You stare at him, the dim party lights casting shadows across his handsome features, deepening the hollows of his face, and for a fleeting moment, you see the boy you fell for, not the aloof figure before you.

With a sharp intake of breath, you turn away, leaving him in the swirl of the party, his image etched into your mind like a bittersweet photograph. The conflict between the pull of your heart and the weight of your disappointment leaves you reeling as you step back into the crowd, away from the warmth of his confused gaze.

──────────────────────────────

The house had emptied out, the noise and chaos of the party finally fading into a strained silence, only punctuated by Sunwoo’s concerned gaze fixed on you. “What the fuck happened?” he asks, his voice laced with worry as he hands you a glass of water, his gestures pointedly trying to ground you back to sobriety.

“Go to my room,” He mutters, the words slipping out before you fully register them.

Sunwoo follows, once in the comfort of his room, you spill everything and he listens, his expression a mask of patience and anger as you unravel every thread of the evening—the plans you had made for Jeno, the crushing disappointment, the despair. You tell him everything, each confession punctuated by a shared understanding of past comforts and missed connections.

He wraps an arm around you, a familiar gesture that feels like a lifeline. “Get some sleep,” he murmurs.

“Can you stay here?” you whisper, your voice small in the vast quiet of the room.

“Yeah, I can, it is my room.” Sunwoo replies, already tossing a pillow onto the floor to make himself a makeshift bed.

“I meant next to me.” The words are out before you can stop them, a raw, needy whisper in the dark.

He laughs, a disbelieving sound that fills the space between you. “Y/N—”

But you’re already moving, driven by a surge of loneliness and a desperate craving for something to fill the void Jeno left. Your lips crash against Sunwoo’s, a fierce, messy kiss that cuts him off mid-sentence. You pull him down, and he lands heavily on top of you, his body instinctively responding to yours. It’s not the first time; there’s a rhythm to your desperation, a remembered path of least resistance.

You’re moving together now, a dance of old habits as you straddle his lap, grinding against him in a rhythm that’s as familiar as it is forbidden. You start to peel his top off, caught up in the momentum, but he catches your hands, his grip firm.

He pulls back sharply, the motion almost violent in its intensity. “Y/N, we can’t—” His voice is ragged, breath hot against your face.

“I’m really hard, so please get off my lap,” he adds, a strained chuckle belying the tension in his voice. You can feel his arousal, a hard line against your inner thigh, a testament to the physical response he can’t control.

Reluctantly, you slide off him and curl up beside him, wrapping your arms around yourself against the chill that seems to seep into your bones. He notices, draping a blanket over your shivering form.

“Why?” The word is more of a sob than a question, hurt coloring your tone. “Nothing has ever stopped us before.” 

“Because you’re upset at him, and this isn’t the way to deal with it,” Sunwoo says gently, the earnestness in his voice making you look at him. “You need to talk to him instead of trying to fuck me.”

You frown, frustration and confusion mingling with the remnants of desire. “I’ve come to you crying a hundred times in the past, before Jeno, and you always used to fuck me to make me feel better, so why won’t you do it now?” Your voice is raw, each word a slice of vulnerability.

“This was our thing,” you continue, the history between you spilling out in a rush. “We used to come to each other whenever we were stressed or upset and used to fuck each other for release. Remember the amount of times I’ve sucked your cock because something pissed you off so you’d always show up at mine or call me over?”

He laughs, a sound that’s half nostalgia, half resignation. “Yeah, and why do you think we’re both shitty at dealing with emotions?”

“I’m not shitty at dealing with emotions—” you start to argue, but he cuts you off.

“Y/N, all of the fucking is left in the past. You should know that. I’m trying to be with Yeji, and this won’t help anything. I know how hurt you are, just, let’s watch your favorite show, okay? I promise I won’t leave you alone, but I can’t fuck you, not now.”

Resignation washed over you as you nodded slowly, the fight draining out of you as the reality of his words settled in. Together, you settled under the blanket, the TV flickering on as you leaned against him, his presence a steady comfort in the swirl of your chaotic emotions.

──────────────────────────────

──────────────────────────────

Sunwoo flings the door open, his face a mask of barely contained fury. His hands are balled into fists at his sides, his whole body rigid with the effort to keep his anger in check. The air is thick with tension, every muscle in his frame poised for a confrontation.

Jeno’s eyes are pleading, and he starts to speak, his voice thick with urgency, “Please let me see her—”

That’s all it takes for Sunwoo’s restraint to snap. His hands shoot out, fingers tangling in the fabric of Jeno’s shirt, pulling him close with a jolt. He pins Jeno against the door with a force that echoes through the silent hallway. Jeno, for all his faults in this moment, offers no resistance. There’s a glimmer of acknowledgment in his eyes—he knows he’s earned this.

Sunwoo’s voice is a low growl, his words like bullets. “You fucked up. I’ve never seen her this upset.” Each word is punctuated by a shake, Jeno’s head knocking softly against the door.

Sunwoo’s voice drops to a hiss, venomous and revealing. “She was serious about you. She even stopped fucking and sucking my cock when she started seeing you and trust me, she’s never done that for any guy before. But she did it for you, we both agreed to stop our meaningless fucks whenever we were horny and needed a release… and this is how you treat her? After all the patience and kindness she’s shown you? After she opened up her heart to you? You’re fucking pathetic. A fucking idiot.”

Jeno’s voice breaks through the tension, rough with emotion, “You’re the one who’s fucked her?”

Jeno had always suspected, in the back of his mind, that there was history between you and Sunwoo. He’d noticed the way you both interacted, a familiarity that went beyond mere friendship. Your closeness with Sunwoo was obvious — the personal jokes, the way you’d lean on him, the comfort in each other’s space. He’d never brought it up; after all, it was your past, and he had no place digging into it.

Yet, now, faced with the stark reality, it hit him harder than he anticipated. Sunwoo’s words, dripping with contempt and protectiveness over you, ignited a blend of anger and guilt in Jeno. He knew — he’d always known, really — that whatever you and Sunwoo had shared was purely physical, a no-strings-attached arrangement. But the raw jealousy that clawed at him now was unexpected, unwelcome.

He grappled with the images his mind conjured, unwanted scenarios of you seeking comfort in Sunwoo’s arms, just as you had in the past. It was a bitter pill to swallow, realizing that his actions, his neglect, may have driven you back into a familiar orbit, one that he could not stake any claim over, not anymore. The mere possibility that Sunwoo might touch you again, that you might seek solace in the intimacy you once shared, stung him with a sharp sense of loss.

In a desperate plea, his words tumbled out, a mix of demand and weakness, “Please don’t touch her. Don’t fuck her.” His voice broke, betraying the turmoil beneath his usually composed exterior. He was in no position to make requests, to set boundaries, and he knew that. But the heart doesn’t heed such logic.

Sunwoo’s response was curt, a reflection of his disdain. “She’s sleeping. She’s not okay, and it’s all because of you.” The gravity in his voice was a sobering slap to Jeno’s conscience. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew Sunwoo was right. It was his fault, and the road to redemption seemed like a steep climb from the abyss he’d stumbled into.

Sunwoo steps back, releasing Jeno completely, leaving him to grapple with the gravity of his missteps. In the quiet aftermath of their confrontation, Jeno stands alone, the corridor stretching out endlessly before him, a physical representation of the distance he’s put between himself and you.

There’s a pounding in his head, a relentless drumbeat of guilt, and the sobering knowledge that he’s just stumbled upon a crossroads. One wrong move has the potential to unravel everything he holds dear. And as he stands there, he knows the path to redemption is steep and uncertain, but it’s one he must walk if he hopes to make things right.

──────────────────────────────

Jeno has been different since you. 

Donghyuck watched Jeno from across the kitchen table, stirring his noodles absentmindedly. The transformation in Jeno was stark and troubling. Gone was the uplifting spirit that Donghyuck was used to; in its place sat a withdrawn figure, his eyes often glazed over with a distant, pained look.

Jeno still hung out with them, but there was a palpable distance, a barrier he had put up. He would listen, occasionally engage, but his laughter was rare and his departures early. Even now, sitting across from him, Donghyuck felt the gap, as if Jeno was miles away instead of just across the table.

Jeno sat hunched over his food, his usually sharp eyes dulled, mindlessly swirling noodles around his fork. His usual vibrant demeanor had dimmed noticeably since your departure. Donghyuck eyed him with a mix of concern and mischief, catching the drift of his friend’s mood.

“So, I heard your girl is available now, you guys broke up?” Donghyuck teased, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, his eyes twinkling maliciously.

Jeno’s reaction was instant; his expression turned icy, a chill settling over his features as he shot Donghyuck a look that could freeze boiling water. “No? You just said she’s my girl, didn’t you?” His voice was low, carrying a warning that was impossible to miss.

Undeterred by the serious tone, Donghyuck leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “I have a master plan, do you wanna hear it?” Silence hung in the air, Jeno’s disinterest palpable, but Donghyuck plowed ahead regardless. “I’ll fuck her for you—”

“What the fuck? No. How the fuck is that for me? You’re talking about putting your disgusting dick in my girl and you’re saying it’s for me?” Jeno’s anger flared, his words sharp as knives.

Donghyuck chuckled, unfazed by the hostility. “Nah, man, I’ll be so shit in bed and I’ll purposefully not make her cum, so she’ll want to go back to you because I know you’ve made her squirt, filthy boy!!” He slapped Jeno on the back, trying to coax a smile with his twisted logic.

For a fleeting second, a smirk twitched at the corner of Jeno’s mouth, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a scowl. With a swift motion, Jeno smacked Donghyuck across the back of his head. “Your fucking plan to bring my girl back to me is by having sex with her? Fucking dumbass. Don’t fucking touch her. If you do as much as look her way, it won’t be good.”

Donghyuck’s demeanor shifted slightly, his voice lowering to a more earnest tone. “It’s not me you have to worry about.” He leaned back, eyeing Jeno seriously. “Apparently, Y/N is trying to move on from you.”

Jeno’s eyes narrowed, his jaw setting tight. “Apparently she’s texting guys all over campus,” Donghyuck continued, the smirk returning as he watched Jeno absorb the information.

“Your girl is hot. She’s getting attention from a lot of guys on campus, everyone wants to fuck her, and apparently she’s actively looking for that, to move on.” Donghyuck’s words were calculated, designed to provoke, and Jeno could feel the sting of each syllable, a mix of pain and rage building within him.

“What kind of guys are chasing after her?” 

“Hyunjin, Felix, Yangyang, Yeonjun to name a few,” Donghyuck rattles off casually, observing Jeno's reaction closely.

Jeno's expression hardens at each name—each one synonymous with casual flings and fleeting interests. These weren't the type of guys he wanted around you, especially not now.

“If they touch her, I swear to God...” Jeno's voice trails off into a growl, his hands clenching instinctively.

Donghyuck smirks, sensing the protective surge in his friend. “You’d make them regret it?” he probes, his tone teasing but with an undercurrent of seriousness.

Jeno only nods, his jaw set firm, the muscles in his neck tensed with the restraint of his anger.

“Want me to warn them off?” Donghyuck offers, his smirk widening slightly.

“Don’t make it a big deal, just subtly let them know that Y/N is off limits,” Jeno instructs, his tone serious. He pauses, a conflicted look crossing his features. “But I want her to be happy, you know? Maybe... maybe get someone decent, like Soobin, to take an interest. Someone who'll treat her well,” he adds, almost reluctantly, but with a clear desire for your happiness shining through his troubled expression.

──────────────────────────────

Donghyuck had definitely made it a big deal. 

Another dry response, another guy who wasn’t interested. Frustration simmered beneath your skin as you threw your phone aside in anger. This pattern was becoming all too familiar. You’d messaged guys across campus, your intentions blatantly clear: you were looking for a quick, no-strings-attached release. Yet, each time, your openness was met with disinterest. No one seemed to want you; no one seemed eager to take you up on your offer.

“Another guy turned you down?” Nayoung asked, her voice laced with concern as she popped a pill and casually tossed it back. You both sighed heavily, the disappointment hanging heavy in the air.

Tonight, you’d both dressed in your most enticing outfits—short, curve-hugging skirts that ended just at mid-thigh, paired with matching crop tops that left little to the imagination. Your hair was done up in loose, carefree waves that framed your faces beautifully, enhancing the sultry makeup that accentuated your features. Every detail was meticulously planned to enhance your appeal, from the glossy finish on your lips to the smoky shadow around your eyes.

Despite the rejections, you couldn’t deny the power of your own reflection. Standing there, you both looked irresistible, the embodiment of desire and confidence. Yet, the night’s efforts seemed in vain, the cool rejection from your phone screen clashing sharply with the hot allure of your appearance.

Now, more than anything, you just needed someone to rip this outfit off your body. Since Jeno left, you’d been craving something—anything—to fill the void, and you hadn’t been touched in so long. You just wanted cock.

As you and Nayoung readied for the party, taking your fill of the pills she’d brought, the two of you posed for some seriously sexy photos. You were in the midst of adjusting your top when Nayoung suddenly made a noise as if she’d just remembered something important.

“I forgot to tell you!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide as she turned to you. “I did some asking around campus, and I think I know why guys haven’t been reciprocating your want to fuck them.”

You turned to her, curiosity piqued. “Why?”

“Okay, hear this,” she began, leaning in closer as if sharing the juiciest secret. “Apparently, Donghyuck made a joke to Jeno about wanting to fuck you, and Jeno got all protective, warned Donghyuck not to ‘touch his fucking girl.’ Then Donghyuck mentioned that other guys had their eye on you since you and Jeno broke it off—like the notorious fuckboys, Hyunjin and Yeonjun, not the sweet ones like Jeno. You know, the ones that only want your pussy and once they have that, they’ll throw you to the side and disregard you. I fucked Yeonjun once, and he didn’t even make me cum; he just fucked me to make him cum.”

“What’s your point?” you ask, shaking your head as Nayoung’s gossip draws a smirk from you despite the irritation brewing inside.

“Yeah, so basically,” Nayoung continued, “Jeno told Donghyuck that if those guys ever lay a fucking hand on you, they’d regret it. And Donghyuck, being the shit-stirrer he is, spread that around campus. Jeno is scary when he’s mad—he can really make you regret doing something when he warns you not to. So, I guess they listened to him and stayed away from you.”

You hissed with anger, fists clenching as you paced slightly. You should’ve known. It had been him all along. “He’s the one behind this? I’m seriously gonna strangle him.”

Nayoung burst out laughing at your reaction. “I’m so fucking hot and sexy, and all the guys on campus know that, yet they’re not going for me because of Jeno. Fucking hell, Jeno, when I get you…” You mimed a strangling motion with your hands, your frustration palpable.

“You’re the new buzz on campus, a lot of guys want you, especially after seeing how sexy you and Jeno looked together. But Jeno scared them all away, even if he didn’t do it intentionally. That’s how much power he has,” Nayoung mused.

“He’s so fucking annoying,” you muttered, shaking your head.

“He’s quite possessive, isn’t he?” Nayoung added with a smirk, popping another pill and watching you with a mix of amusement and sympathy.

“I know he’s trying to look out for me, and part of me can’t help but find that kind of possessiveness kind of hot… It's like he still cares, a lot. But it’s also frustrating that it’s scaring everyone else off.”

Nayoung's eyes flicker with curiosity as she watches you pause, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. "Do you think Jihoon would be scared of Jeno? I mean, he dated Winter, right? I'm sure he knows how to make a girl feel good—" you muse out loud, seeking her opinion before committing to send the message.

“Aren’t you seeing Soobin?” Nayoung interjects, her eyebrows arching in surprise at your continued exploration of options. Her voice is tinged with a mix of amusement and concern.

“Yeah,” you mumble, the word barely more than a whisper, your enthusiasm waning at the mention of Soobin.

“So, you’re messaging other guys because Soobin’s bad in bed?” Nayoung's tone is playful yet probing, as she connects the dots.

You burst out laughing, nodding in agreement, the humor momentarily easing the tension. “Exactly.”

Nayoung hums thoughtfully, tapping her lip. "It’s weird to me that Soobin wasn’t scared off by Jeno. He’s actively trying to pursue you. Does that mean he’s the only guy who isn’t intimidated by Jeno?”

Shaking your head, you reply, "I don't think so." The situation puzzles you as much as it intrigues Nayoung.

“Maybe Jeno didn’t warn him because he thinks Soobin’s too cute to be a threat,” Nayoung suggests, a smirk playing on her lips. “He probably doesn’t expect Soobin to hurt you.”

You scoff, the frustration bubbling up again. "He may be cute but he can’t do shit in bed. We've had sex but it's barely sex. He has no technique, just sticks it in and expects magic to happen. He doesn’t know how to use it. Sure, he’s got a big cock, not as big as Jeno’s, but impressive. Yet he doesn’t know how to make a girl come, and he can't even kiss properly. I’ve tried dropping hints, even suggested he watch porn, tried to get Eric to give him some tips, but nothing changes. He’s just so bad, Nayoung."

Nayoung laughs, a low chuckle. “Yeah, you don’t even make a noise when he’s over.”

“Exactly, I don’t even try to fake it. He should get the hint, but he doesn’t. And he’s too sweet for me to just outright tell him, learn how to use your cock.’ It’s frustrating.”

Nayoung leans in closer, her voice lowering conspiratorially. “You were so loud whenever Jeno was over.”

You nod, the memories vivid and insistent. “Jeno knows how to make me feel good,” you admit, a pang of longing colouring your voice. It’s a reluctant admission, laced with the ache of missing him—the way his touch electrified your skin, the assuredness of his hands roaming over you, knowing just how to drive you wild.

“The way he used his fingers,” you continue, your voice dropping to a whisper, “and his lips… God, I miss how he made me feel.” Your body reacts just at the thought, a warm flush spreading across your skin. “He had this way of pulling me close, his grip strong yet so careful, as if I was something precious.”

Nayoung watches you, her expression a mix of sympathy and curiosity. “And his cock,” you add, your voice thick with desire and frustration. “He knew exactly how to use it, every thrust just right. It’s been so long since I’ve been touched like that… touched the way Jeno used to touch me.” The words spill out, unfiltered and raw.

You lean back, your eyes closing as you allow yourself a moment to dwell on the vivid images of past encounters. “I just need that again, Nayoung. I’m so fucking horny and frustrated. I need to feel wanted, to be devoured, not just… touched absentmindedly.” Your hands clench in your lap, the physical manifestation of your inner turmoil.

“I need a release, a real one,” you say, your eyes opening, meeting Nayoung’s with a fierce, almost defiant look. “I need someone who can make me forget, even if just for a night.” Your voice is firm, the edge to it cutting through the playful atmosphere that had lightened the earlier part of your conversation.

Nayoung nods, understanding your needs without judgment. “Let’s find you that someone then,” she says, her tone supportive, ready to dive back into the night with a renewed mission, to help you find the release you so desperately crave.

──────────────────────────────

Walking into the bar, the familiar clamor of laughter and music greets you, but it’s Donghyuck’s voice that cuts through the din. “Girl, I’ve missed you!” His arms wrap around you in a tight embrace that lifts the lingering shadows of the past weeks.

“So have I!!!” Your words come out slurred, the warmth of the reunion melting the coldness of recent days. You’d been avoiding him, unfairly linking him to Jeno’s actions, but realising your anger was misplaced had brought you back to him, someone who had unexpectedly become one of your closest friends.

Soobin is there too, awkwardly waiting his turn. His greeting stumbles out, “You—woah—you—so pretty.” You muster a polite smile and murmur thanks, his gaze flickering over you with polite admiration but lacking the intensity you crave.

If this was Jeno, his reaction would be unmistakable. He’d probably gasp, taken aback by how stunning you looked, his eyes greedily taking you in. He wouldn’t be shy about it; his hands would find their way to your ass and your thighs almost instinctively, his touch bold and admiring. Whispering a stream of compliments, he’d make you feel irresistibly sexy, especially when you dressed provocatively, his appreciation both vocal and palpable.

Nayoung leans closer, her voice low. “Jeno’s here.” Her eyes flicker with concern. “He’s staring at you. Do you wanna stay or go?”

A sigh escapes you; of course, Jeno would be here. Donghyuck had mentioned it might turn into a larger gathering before moving on to Sunwoo’s party. You allow your gaze to meet Jeno’s for a brief moment, taking in his undeniable allure. He looks irresistible, the dim bar lights casting shadows that accentuate the contours of his face, making him appear both mysterious and impossibly handsome. His reaction to seeing you is palpable; you catch the sharp intake of his breath, his eyes widening slightly as he takes in your appearance.

“No, it’s okay, I can deal with him,” you assert, settling into the role of the provocateur. Perching yourself on Soobin’s lap, you make a show of laughing a little too loudly, your hand casually brushing against the exposed skin of your thigh. It’s a performance, each movement calculated to draw a reaction from Jeno.

Leaning back into Soobin, you shift subtly, feeling the fabric of your top stretch tight across your chest, accentuating your curves. Every adjustment seems accidental but is steeped in intent. Casually, you gather your hair, twisting it into a high ponytail as you catch Jeno’s gaze. You know he loves it when your hair is up, exposing the slender curve of your neck and the delicate line of your shoulders. As you secure your hair, you tilt your head slightly, a silent invitation for his eyes to wander over the places he used to kiss. Your movements on Soobin’s lap are deliberate, a slow grind that suggests more, ensuring Jeno is acutely aware of every provocative shift of your body.

Was it petty? Perhaps. Did you care? Not in the slightest.

As the night progresses, you catch Jeno’s gaze locked on you multiple times, his expression a mixture of nostalgia and something darker, perhaps jealousy. He converses with others, his laughter ringing out, yet his eyes betray a distance, a detachment from the mirth around him.

You revel in the attention, the power of making him watch, unable to touch, to engage. It’s a cruel game, but after everything, it feels like a justified rebuke for the pain he’s caused.

Soobin was incredibly timid; even with you sitting on his lap, his hands hadn’t dared to explore. They remained awkwardly at his sides, as if he was unsure of what to do next. In sharp contrast, if this had been Jeno, his approach would have been entirely different. His hands would have confidently roamed over your thighs and ass, his touch assured and provocative. Jeno would have already whispered sultry promises into your ear, his fingers skillfully bringing you to climax, each move calculated to draw out the deepest moans of satisfaction from you.

Frustrated by Soobin’s passivity, you slipped off his lap with a swift, fluid motion and sauntered over to the bar to drown your dissatisfaction in alcohol. As you waited for your drink, a searing gaze burned into your back. Turning around, you caught Jeno’s eyes fixed on you with an intensity that scorched. His stare was predatory, unlike Soobin’s uncertain glances, igniting a thrill of excitement through you. His gaze traced the contours of your body so fervently that you could almost feel his touch.

You followed his stare down to your ass and realized he wasn’t even attempting to be subtle; his eyes were glued to you, unashamed and raw. You gasped, taken aback by his audacity, yet a part of you reveled in the attention.

With a few heated steps, you closed the distance between you, standing defiantly in front of him, arms crossed. Jeno met your gaze with a playful grin, as if he wasn’t just caught staring at you.

“Were you just checking out my ass?” you challenged, your tone a mix of amusement and accusation, your eyes narrowing slightly to match the teasing yet confrontational energy of your stance.

He responded with disarming honesty, his eyes locking onto yours, not even flinching as he admitted, “Not the first time and won’t be the last.”

Your frustration bubbled into a huff, and you shook your head, at a loss for words for a moment, before you pointed an accusatory finger at him and sharply said, “No!” as if scolding a misbehaving dog, the irritation mingled with an unspoken delight at his undivided attention.

You turned on your heel to walk away, but not without adding a final flair to your exit. Casually, you tugged your skirt up slightly, just enough to give Jeno a fleeting but tantalizing glimpse of more. Over your shoulder, you shot him a mischievous smirk, ensuring he caught every bit of the provocative gesture.

His response was immediate—a sharp intake of breath as he bit his lip, a classic sign of restrained desire. His eyes, dark and intent, tracked every movement you made, clearly affected by the provocatively playful challenge you'd thrown at him. The smirk that played on your lips grew wider as you savored the visible effect you had on him. Feeling bold and empowered by his reaction, you turned on your heel, giving your hips an extra sway just for him, pulling up the hem of your skirt ever so slightly as you glanced back with a teasing smirk. Leaving a visibly flustered Jeno to stew in the heat of the moment you had just ignited, you walked away, the thrill of the encounter sending a pleasurable shiver down your spine.

As you mingled effortlessly with his friends, Jeno's gaze held a mix of frustration and admiration from across the room. Every laugh and gesture you shared with the group only highlighted your comfort and charisma, adding to the allure that seemed to captivate everyone, including him. Despite the noise and energy around him, his attention was firmly on you, his thoughts a blend of appreciation and yearning.

Throughout the night, your vibrant energy seemed to draw more people into your orbit, leaving Jeno somewhat isolated, his eyes following your every move. The way you interacted with his friends, the ease with which you laughed and danced, struck a chord within him, a reminder of the connection you once shared. Occasionally, your eyes would meet, and you’d offer him a playful yet distant smile, a nod to your shared past and the complex feelings that lingered.

With one final glance that night, you caught Jeno looking your way. Instead of another teasing gesture, you gave him a soft smile, acknowledging the undeniable tension. Returning to the laughter and conversations around you, you left Jeno with his mixed emotions, the distance between you both more poignant than ever.

──────────────────────────────

The party was alive with energy, vibrating with the pulse of loud music that filled the crowded room. Flashing lights painted the dancing crowd in waves of color, each flash cutting through the dark like a strobe. The atmosphere was electric, everyone letting loose, their semester’s stress dissolving into a night of wild fun.

Bodies pressed close in the dim light, moving with a rhythmic intensity that pulsed through the crowded room. Flashes of skin glinted under the strobe lights as revelers danced provocatively, their movements suggestive and unabashed. Couples lingered in the darker corners, their embraces deep and lingering, lips locked in fervent kisses. The air was thick with the scent of perfume and sweat, a tangible reminder of the night’s indulgence and the uninhibited release of pent-up desires.

As you entered, Sunwoo was the first to greet you, planting warm kisses on your and Nayoung’s cheeks—a customary greeting that felt comforting amid the chaos. Yeji was next, her arms wrapping around you in a tight hug, and the two of you exchanged rapid-fire compliments, each one amplifying the night’s festive mood.

While mingling, Sunwoo leaned in close, his voice barely above a whisper over the music. “Jeno’s here,” he murmured with a concerned glance, “do you want me to get him out?” 

You shook your head, offering him a thankful smile. “It’s okay, I can handle him tonight,” you assured him, feeling a mix of apprehension and determination.

The dance floor was a whirl of bodies, and you and Nayoung were right in the thick of it, high both on the atmosphere and the subtle assistance of the night’s earlier indulgences. The two of you danced provocatively, uninhibited and playful, your hands occasionally grazing each other’s bodies—over hips, across backs, and playfully squeezing at asses and boobs. 

Soobin, on the other hand, seemed lost on the edge of the action. His awkwardness was almost palpable, his eyes wide as he tried to figure out where he fit into this display of carefree debauchery. It was becoming increasingly frustrating to watch him just stand there, not knowing how to engage with the wild energy you and Nayoung thrived in.

As the beat of the music dipped into a sultry rhythm, Nayoung’s touches turned more daring, mimicking the kind of attention you had been craving. Her fingers danced along your curves, a teasing precursor to the more intimate contact to come. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned in closer, her lips hovering just inches from yours. The tension between you built with the thumping bass, both playful and charged with an unspoken dare.

You could feel the heat of her breath, mixed with the laughter and shouts of the party-goers around you, creating a bubble that seemed to encompass just the two of you. With a smirk, Nayoung closed the gap, her lips meeting yours in a soft, lingering kiss that was more than just a peck but less than a promise. It was flirtatious, a hint of sensuality wrapped in the guise of jest, drawing a few cheers from those nearby. You both break away at the last second with giggles, unable to take the gesture seriously.

Soobin, all flushed and visibly aroused from watching you and Nayoung playfully dancing, tapped your shoulder, a hesitant offer in his voice. “Hey, can we go to the bathroom?” His attempt at sounding seductive fell flat, failing to stir the excitement within you that he was probably hoping for. Nevertheless, you agreed, hoping against hope that perhaps this time would be different, that somehow he’d find a spark of passion that matched your own urgent desires.

As you entered the bathroom with him, the reality of the situation set in quickly. There was no need to even lock the door; there was little risk of your moans being overheard because, simply put, there wouldn’t be any. Soobin’s attempts at pleasing you were lackluster and uncoordinated. As he tried to navigate what he thought was pleasurable, his movements were uncertain and ineffective, lacking the assured touch that could drive you wild. His technique was so basic and mechanical, merely going through the motions without any real understanding of how to build intensity or respond to your body’s cues.

The disappointment was crushing. Not a single man since Jeno had managed to truly satisfy you, to make you come alive with desire. Self-pleasure had been a poor substitute for the intoxicating physical connection you had experienced with Jeno, whose every touch, every kiss, was perfectly attuned to your needs.

“Please go,” you found yourself whispering to Soobin when it became too much to bear, your tone firming up when he didn’t react immediately, “Please get out!” The words were harsher than you intended, driven by a cocktail of frustration and desperation.

Soobin looked up, his expression one of wounded confusion. “What’s wrong? Was it not good?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

You shook your head, softening slightly at his genuine naiveté. “I just need to be by myself for a while,” you explained, forcing a smile to lessen the blow of your rejection. He nodded, hurt but understanding, and exited quietly, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts and unmet needs.

In the solitude of the bathroom, the stark reality hit you once again. No touch, no encounter had come close to what you had with Jeno. The absence of that deep, fulfilling connection left you longing, your body crying out for a touch that seemed now more distant than ever.

The reality of your unfulfilled desire weighed heavily on you. You wanted to cum, needed to feel that overwhelming rush, the kind that leaves you breathless and satiated. More than that, you longed to feel loved, to be touched in a way that made every nerve in your body come alive, igniting your senses like a firestorm.

You miss Jeno. 

Driven by a mix of frustration and raw need, you reached a decision. It might have seemed foolish or impulsive, but in that moment, it felt like the only option left. You were high, your body was tingling with a sexual frustration that couldn't be ignored, and every fiber of your being ached for Jeno. 

Your hands trembled as you pulled out your phone. With each shaky breath, you navigated through your contacts until his name appeared. It was crazy, perhaps, but desperation had a funny way of pushing you to the edge. You missed him terribly—not just his touch, but his presence, his intensity, the way he made you feel utterly alive.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the message screen, your fingers hovered over the keyboard, your heart pounding with a cocktail of dread and anticipation. You typed out his name, a simple but loaded gesture that felt like a crossroads:

He didn’t respond right away, and you were left staring at the screen, wondering if he’d seen your message or simply chosen to ignore it. Your heart raced with a mix of anticipation and disappointment, the tension building with each passing minute. In an attempt to distract yourself, you began scrolling through old messages—a habit you had found yourself indulging in more often than you cared to admit.

Your thumb paused over a particularly enticing thumbnail, a video he had sent weeks ago during a particularly steamy exchange. The memory of it alone was enough to make your pulse quicken, but you needed more than just memories tonight. You tapped the play button, and the screen filled with the explicit image of Jeno pleasuring himself, his hard cock prominent and demanding attention.

As the video played, your eyes were glued to the rhythmic movements of his hand along his length. His cock was impressive—thick and veined, the head flushed and glistening with pre-cum. It was a sight that had always driven you wild, and tonight was no exception. His moans filled the room, low and husky, each breathy sound a direct line to your core.

You couldn’t help but let out a loud moan at the sight, the sound of your own voice mingling with his from the speakers. Watching him like this, so vulnerable and unabashedly turned on, sent a wave of heat through your body. You imagined what it felt like to have him inside you, the stretch and fill of him, the way he moved with such a perfect mix of urgency and precision.

As you watched him bring himself closer to the edge, his hand moving faster, his moans growing louder, you felt a deep, aching need uncoil within you. You reached down, your fingers tracing the lines of your own arousal as you mimicked the actions on the screen. The thought of being the cause of his pleasure, the focal point of his desire, was intoxicating.

You were so lost in the moment, so caught up in the raw, palpable sexuality of it all, that the rest of the world seemed to fade away. It was just you, the flickering light of your phone screen, and the undeniable evidence of his desire for you. It was overwhelming, it was carnal, and it was exactly what you needed to feel connected to him once more, even if just through a screen.

Before conscious thought could catch up, your hands were already making their way beneath the delicate lace of your underwear. With a swift motion, you hitched up your skirt, giving yourself easier access. Your fingers slid effortlessly along your slick folds, exploring the wetness that had gathered in eager anticipation.

You dipped a finger inside yourself, relishing the warm, tight sensation that enveloped it. The feeling was electric, a direct line of arousal shooting through your body as you added another finger, stretching yourself deliciously. You mimicked the rhythm you saw on the screen, your movements becoming more deliberate and urgent.

As you pumped your fingers in and out, the slick sounds of your own wetness mixed with the visceral audio from the video, creating a symphony of arousal that echoed around the room. Each thrust of your fingers hit just the right spot, sending jolts of pleasure radiating through your core. You angled your fingers, seeking that sweet spot that always made your breath hitch. When you found it, you massaged it fervently, spiraling towards an overwhelming crescendo.

Your breathing became labored, matching the heavy, lust-filled breaths that filled the room from the video. The tension in your lower belly wound tighter and tighter until you were teetering on the edge of release. With a few more expert flicks of your wrist, you tumbled into a powerful orgasm, your body convulsing with wave after wave of intense pleasure. As you rode out the sensations, your mind was filled with vivid flashes of being beneath him, of Jeno’s own heated expressions as he moved within you, his cock driving you towards ecstasy just as your fingers were now.

In the aftermath, you lay breathless, a sheen of sweat coating your skin, the lingering buzz of your climax slowly ebbing away. You were left flushed and satisfied, yet the ache for his actual touch—his body against yours—remained poignant, a stark reminder of the physical connection you both shared and deeply missed.

Jeno’s entrance into the bathroom is marked by a dark, mocking glint in his eyes, his gaze instantly locking onto your exposed, quivering form. The air thickens with tension and raw desire as he takes in the sight of you—fingers paused, breaths shallow, your arousal evident and inviting.

“Oh? What do we have here?” His voice is laced with a blend of mockery and unmistakable hunger, the words rolling off his tongue slow and deliberate. He steps closer, the deliberate echo of his footsteps mingling with the rapid beat of your heart, his piercing eyes devouring the sight of your exposed, slick arousal.

You try to find your voice, but all that escapes is a breathy, involuntary moan. Your eyes, heavy and lust-drunk, meet him with a plea silent yet screaming.

“Why did you stop? Keep going, show me.” he commands, his voice low and merciless, dripping with sadistic satisfaction. “Touch yourself, show me how desperate you really are,” he commands, his tone dripping with sadistic pleasure. 

Compelled by his words, your hand drifts back between your thighs, resuming the slow, deliberate circles around your clit. Each movement sends jolts of pleasure radiating through you, and you moan louder, more unabashedly. Jeno watches intently, his lips curling into a smug, satisfied smile.

As you continue to touch yourself under his demanding gaze, Jeno watches intently, his breathing growing heavier. The room fills with the sound of your moans, each one echoing off the walls, driving him wild. He bites his lip hard, a low grunt escaping him as he watches you writhe in pleasure.

“Fuck, look at you… so needy, so desperate,” he growls, the raw desire in his voice palpable. He can’t help but adjust himself, his hand moving to the growing bulge in his pants, squeezing it through the fabric. His eyes never leave your trembling form as he begins to massage himself, his movements becoming more pronounced as his excitement builds in response to your unabashed display.

Your fingers quicken, driven by his gaze and the filthy encouragement falling from his lips. “Please, Jeno, please touch me,” you whimper, the frustration and need tangling into a sharp, sweet ache.

Jeno’s smirk widens, his gaze sharpening with a sadistic pleasure. “No,” he drawls, his voice low and commanding. “Beg for it properly. Show me how much you want it, how desperate you are. What’s the magic word, princess?” His tone teases, challenging you to humble yourself further in your plea for relief.

 “I need you, Jeno, please…” you gasp, your voice breaking with desperation.

With each stroke, each swirl of your fingers, you feel yourself spiraling closer to the edge. His words, degrading yet oddly affectionate in their own twisted way, push you further, heightening every sensation until you’re teetering on the brink of release.

Overwhelmed by the building crescendo of your arousal, you finally shatter under his watchful eyes, a loud moan escaping as waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you shuddering and spent, yet craving more. Jeno’s expression, a mix of satisfaction and insatiable hunger, tells you this night has only just begun.

As your breaths begin to even out and you attempt to gather some semblance of composure, Jeno’s gaze shifts towards the bathroom door, which remains slightly ajar—an oversight you hadn’t noticed in your frenzied state. His eyes narrow slightly, the earlier amusement mingling now with a sharper, more commanding tone.

“You left the door open? Really?” His voice is both teasing and scolding, rich with disapproval. “Look at you, so desperate and whiny that you couldn’t even remember to close it. You really weren’t thinking at all, were you? Just a desperate cum slut needing attention so badly you forgot the world outside.”

You feel a flush of embarrassment heat your cheeks, mixed with the residual warmth of your climax. The open door, a detail so minor yet so risky, underscores just how reckless your need had made you.

Jeno steps closer, his body nearly touching yours, his breath hot against your ear. “That’s what you are, isn’t it? Too desperate for my cock, for my touch, to even care who might see? You’re lucky it was me who walked in and not someone else.” His fingers trace a slow, deliberate path down your arm, sending shivers across your skin.

“Would you have stopped if it were someone else, or would you have let them watch you fall apart?” he murmurs, his words a taunt that digs deeper into your psyche, making you squirm under his intense gaze.

The implication of his words, the idea of being so exposed, so out of control, only adds another layer to the complex tapestry of humiliation and arousal that Jeno weaves around you. You find your voice, small and breathy, “I… I didn’t mean to—”

"Quiet," he commands sharply, his hand swiftly connecting with your cheek in a firm spank. The sudden sting sends a shiver through you, causing you to gasp as a wave of blissful shock rolls through your body.

“You’re only mine to watch, remember that,” he adds firmly, the possessive edge in his voice leaving no room for argument. The door remains open, a silent testament to your oversight and his control, adding yet another thrilling element to the night’s already charged atmosphere.

"We're going to play a game," he announced, his tone commanding as he laid out the rules with a wicked grin. "We watch each other. No touching." His strokes matched the rhythm of your own hand as you both fell into a silent contest of wills, each movement more desperate than the last.

"If you lose first," he murmured, voice strained as he held back his own climax, "you’re going to suck my cock. And if I lose," he paused, a deep growl punctuating his words, "I'll eat you out right here on this countertop."

The challenge was intoxicating. You felt every stroke echo through your body, each moan slipping from your lips pushing him closer to the edge. His eyes, dark and intense, never left your face, watching every flicker of pleasure that passed over your features.

The game had been a torturous delight, and losing felt almost as exhilarating as the anticipation of winning.

As you moaned Jeno’s name, your hands couldn’t resist the magnetic pull toward him. Your fingers wrapped around his firm, eager cock, your touch bold and hungry, driven by an intense need.

"Baby,” he breathed out, his voice husky with arousal as he watched the slick evidence of your pleasure glisten. The sight was too much for him to simply observe passively. He unbuckled his belt, his actions deliberate, pulling out his cock swollen with need. With slow, tantalizing movements, he began to stroke himself, his gaze fixed intently on your quivering form.

Your breath caught in your throat as you lowered yourself, eyes fixed on him, drawn irresistibly to his arousal. You brushed your lips against the tip of his cock, savouring the hint of his arousal, your moans soft against his skin. Your movements were deliberate, filled with the desire to take him into your mouth, to feel him deep and completely.

But Jeno’s firm grip on your chin halted you, his dark eyes piercing yours with a commanding intensity. “Not yet,” he murmured, his voice low and firm. “You seem eager… But remember, you only do what I say, when I say.”​

"Open your legs," he murmured, his voice low and seductive as he guided you back up to stand before him. He kissed your inner thighs softly, each kiss closer to your heat, building anticipation. His breath was hot against your skin, each exhale sending shivers down your spine as he teased you mercilessly. 

“Climb up here,” Jeno commands, his hands gripping your hips firmly to help hoist you onto the cold marble countertop. The sharp contrast between the cool surface and the warmth of your flushed skin sends another shiver through you, heightening your anticipation. His fingers linger on your thighs, squeezing gently as he adjusts your position, ensuring you’re perfectly displayed before him.

"Tell me, who’s been lucky enough to have you since I've been gone?" he asked, his voice a deep whisper against the sensitive folds of your arousal. His words were a deliberate provocation, designed to unravel you completely. 

You shook your head, breath hitching, "No one but you,” the lie slipping out amidst your shaky breaths as you struggled to maintain composure under his intense gaze.

Jeno paused, his eyes searching yours for a moment longer than necessary, the corners of his mouth twitching as if deciding how to interpret your words. “Are you sure about that?” he asked, his tone soft yet edged with a faint trace of skepticism, almost teasing yet earnest enough to deepen the fluttering in your chest.

You nodded, the words slipping out in a quiet whisper, shy to say it, acting extra shy and timid. “Yes, daddy,” your voice barely rose above a whisper, each word trembling slightly as if afraid of being fully heard.y” 

Jeno’s smirk deepens as his hand moves with intense purpose, each motion reflecting his hungry desire. His fingers tighten around himself, every touch deliberate and charged with raw passion. Biting his lip, his eyes never leave you, burning with a lust that’s both fierce and unabashed. “Say that again. Louder,” he commands, his voice a deep growl, thick with need and the urge to hear you once more.

Driven by the intense atmosphere, you scream out, “Daddy!!!” Your voice is louder, laden with your own undeniable longing and the palpable sexual tension that crackles fiercely in the air between you. Your call is passionate, filled with a raw, aching need that resonates powerfully in the charged silence that follows.

Jeno smiled, a knowing, wicked curve of his lips before he dipped his head. His tongue traced the delicate lines of your folds with expert precision, his movements deliberate and focused. He savoured the taste of you, his moans vibrating against your skin as he expressed his approval of your flavour. The room filled with the sounds of your wetness and his persistent licks.

Every flick of his tongue sent electric shocks that radiated from your core to every part of your body. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, holding you open, utterly exposed to his hungry gaze and eager mouth. Your hands found his hair, pushing him closer, guiding him to the spots that made your body arch and your breath catch.

"Daddy," you gasped, the edge approaching rapidly as his tongue swirled around your clit, then pressed flat against it, the change in pressure dragging a loud moan from your lips. He intensified his efforts, encouraged by your responses, his own arousal palpable in the urgency of his actions.

As you neared your climax, your voice broke, "Please, Daddy, please," your plea barely a whisper, yet it echoed in the small space, filled with the steam of your desire.

In the heat of the moment, your actions became wild and uncontrolled. Each thrust of your hips against Jeno’s face was driven by raw desperation, your body chasing the climax that tantalized you just at the brink. His expert tongue worked relentlessly, drawing moan after moan from your lips as he explored every fold with precision. The room spun around you, filled with the sounds of your labored breathing and the wet, slick noises of his devotion.

As your pleasure mounted, your movements grew more frantic. You ground yourself against him harder, each movement more urgent than the last, effectively face-fucking him in your need to reach that peak. Jeno, undeterred, met each of your thrusts with a surge of his tongue, pushing you closer to the edge.

But the wildness of your actions came with consequences. In your fervor, you lost track of your balance. Suddenly, the world tipped sideways. Jeno’s grip on your hips faltered, and the two of you were sent crashing backward in a tangle of limbs and breathless laughter. The abrupt fall didn’t dampen the fire between you; if anything, it stoked it further.

Lying on the floor now, Jeno’s expression mixed frustration with raw desire. His voice was rough, tinged with both admonishment and lust as he spoke. “Only good girls deserve to cum,” he chided, his hands steadying your shaking form. “You’re being too needy.”

Yet, the smirk that danced across your lips betrayed your enjoyment of this chaotic intimacy. His next command was a growl, thick with promise, “Sit on my face.”

Scrambling to comply, you positioned yourself above him once again, your heart pounding with anticipation. As you lowered yourself onto his eager mouth, his hands firmly guided your hips, setting a punishing rhythm that you eagerly followed.

His tongue resumed its fervent dance, exploring you deeply, each stroke a deliberate provocation. You rode his face with abandon, each movement more deliberate, grinding down to meet his upward strokes. The sensation of his lips and tongue, combined with the urgent grip of his hands, drove you towards delirium. The room echoed with the sounds of your mutual desperation, a symphony of slick, muffled noises and your increasingly sharp moans.

His tongue and lips worked in unison to bring you to the brink. And when he added a finger, curling it inside you, hitting that sweet spot, you shattered, your body convulsed in an intense orgasm, and you felt yourself squirting forcefully. A burst of warmth splashed across Jeno’s face, streaking down his cheeks and chin in rivulets. He maintained his position, his mouth and tongue still at work as the surge drenched him, his face slick and shining with you. 

His initial shock morphed into a broad, triumphant grin as he reveled in the wet, messy evidence of your pleasure. His eyes sparkled with a mix of pride and arousal, fully immersed in the raw, erotic display of your climax.

Jeno’s strong hands guided you down gently, ensuring your shaky legs found stability before pulling you onto his lap. Your hands, still trembling from the aftermath of your release, found his hair, gripping it tightly as you leaned in close. Your lips met the slick, wet trails that your climax had left on his skin, tasting yourself on him—a mingling of sweet and heady that made your head spin.

His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you impossibly closer as your hands roamed, dragging nails along his scalp, eliciting a rough groan that vibrated against your lips. The kiss wasn’t just a clash—it was a claim, each of you hungry for dominance, for the reassurance that this connection was as unbreakable as ever.

From the intense tangle on the bathroom floor, Jeno’s eyes locked with yours, filled with a fiery determination that signaled a shift. He stood abruptly, his strong hands gripping your arms, pulling you up with him. Without breaking eye contact. Jeno’s hands gripped your hips, he forcefully spun you around to face the wall, your hands pressing flat against the cool, reflective surface of the mirror.

He hoisted you slightly, just enough so your feet barely touched the ground, your body bent at a perfect angle for him to enter. As he positioned himself behind you, his presence loomed large, and his cock teased at your entrance before he thrust forward, burying himself deep inside you with a primal urgency.

The cold glass of the mirror kissed your skin, contrasting with the heat emanating from every pore as Jeno began to move. His thrusts were deliberate and rough, designed to remind you of his control and your surrender. With each deep penetration, he grunted, a low sound filled with both satisfaction and dominance. His hands moved from your hips to your hair, tugging your head back to expose your throat, which he leaned in to bite gently, marking you as his.

“Look at us,” Jeno commanded, his voice thick with arousal. Your eyes fluttered open to meet his gaze in the mirror. The sight was raw—your body bent, his hands claiming you, your expressions twisted with pleasure. “No one fucks you like I do, isn’t that right?” he taunted, punctuating his words with a sharp slap on your ass, the sound echoing in the small room.

You moaned, the sting from the slap tingling pleasantly as he continued to drive into you. “Yes, Daddy, that’s right,” you gasped, the mirror fogging slightly with the heat of your breaths.

He leaned forward, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re so fucking hot like this,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. Without warning, he spat directly onto your back, the sudden wetness stark against your heated skin. His hand followed, spreading the saliva smoothly across your skin, a cold contrast to the warm press of his body. This deliberate act heightened the raw intensity of the moment, each movement slick and unrelenting.

Jeno’s gaze captured yours in the mirror, his eyes glinting with fire as he turned your face to meet his. He studied your flushed, overwhelmed expression with a satisfied smirk. His hand then cupped your chin, tilting your head back as he forcefully opened your mouth. Without breaking eye contact, he spat directly into your mouth, the act bold and commanding. Quickly, he sealed his lips over yours, his kiss swallowing your gasps, merging the sharp tang of his dominance with the heat of your shared arousal.

The mirror captured every raw emotion, every hungry gaze, magnifying the intensity of the moment. As Jeno’s hands roamed over your body, exploring, claiming, you watched, captivated by the sight of his muscles flexing with each movement. His grip tightened, and suddenly he was moving you, one hand splayed across your chest, the other gripping your hip, controlling the rhythm.

Then his hand clutched at your hair, yanking it back to arch your neck sharply, exposing your throat to the cool air of the room. The sudden, assertive pull sent a rush of adrenaline through you, heightening every sensation. His other hand encircled your throat, his hold firm and unyielding, squeezing just enough to send a thrilling rush of danger through your veins. This mix of pain and pleasure, the sharp tugs and the constricting grasp on your neck, amplified every sensation, making each thrust feel deeper, more desperate.

Jeno tightens his grip around you. His forearm presses firmly against your throat, locking you securely under his control. You feel the strength of his arm, each muscle taut and alive, as he manoeuvres you, anchoring you in place with a confident hold. His body is flush against yours, his chest heaving against your back with each breath, his movements precise and intent on keeping you precisely where he wants you.

As the intensity grew, he reached around to press a firm hand against your throat, squeezing gently, heightening every sensation. “I want to hear you say it,” he growled, his breath hot against your ear. “Tell me you’re mine.”

Shuddering under the dual assault of his cock and his hand, you managed to reply through ragged breaths, “I’m yours, only yours.”

Satisfied, Jeno released your throat and focused on driving you toward climax. His thrusts became erratic, more desperate. He pulled you up against him, your back flush with his chest, and his fingers found your clit. As he rubbed in tight circles, his other hand wandered over your body, exploring every curve with a possessive touch.

Just as you felt your orgasm looming, he bit down on your shoulder, a sharp, sweet pain that sent you over the edge. Your legs trembled, and your body clenched around him as you came hard, your cries loud enough to draw curious looks from outside the bathroom. But the sound of your pleasure was drowned out by Jeno’s own climax, his hot release filling you as he groaned your name.

The bathroom door remained ajar, forgotten in the heat of the moment. A curious crowd began to gather outside, drawn by the unmistakable sounds of ecstasy echoing from within. Nayoung and Eric, vigilant and protective, stood guard. Nayoung’s eyes flashed dangerously at anyone who dared get too close, her stance aggressive and ready.

As murmurs and whispers filled the hallway, Nayoung turned her gaze towards Arin, who stood a few feet away, her face a mix of shock and curiosity. With a wicked grin, Nayoung leaned closer to her, her voice loud enough for only Arin to hear but with a sharpness that cut through the buzz. “You hear your boyfriend who loves you so much screaming out that he loves Y/N’s pussy?” Her tone was taunting, the words a deliberate jab meant to twist the knife of jealousy and claim.

You and Jeno have parted ways, but not before he takes you against the kitchen countertop and the walls of one of the spare bedrooms. Now, you find yourself unable to walk around properly, each step a reminder of the fervent and fleeting moments shared in the throes of passion.

As you navigate the crowded party, the weight of your recent actions with Jeno hangs heavily on your mind, but the high from the encounter keeps the reality at bay. Every step reminds you of how good he fucked you, leaving you with a mixture of satisfaction and discomfort that makes it hard to walk properly.

You overhear whispers and can feel glances thrown your way—Nayoung wasn’t exaggerating when she said that the entire party heard you two. There’s a flush of embarrassment that should be creeping in, but it’s overshadowed by the buzz of the high and how vividly good Jeno made you feel.

As you try to steady yourself, your eyes catch Sunwoo and Yeji in a tender, ‘wrapped-up-in-each-other' moment. That spark of jealousy flares again. They seem to have what you long for but can’t quite grasp—genuine connection and unwavering affection. Observing them together stirs a mix of longing and regret inside you.

Your mind flashes back to the night you tried fuck Sunwoo, an impulsive act driven by loneliness and perhaps too much to drink. The guilt starts to seep in as you consider the potential fallout of your actions—how close you came to complicating their relationship. You’re relieved now, thankful that Sunwoo didn’t reciprocate your advances. They deserve happiness, the kind that’s free from the turbulence of your current state.

──────────────────────────────

Nayoung's compliments fill the room as she applies the final touches to your makeup, her skilled hands enhancing your natural beauty. She opts for a sultry look: a subtle smokey eye that makes your gaze captivating, paired with a nude lip gloss that adds just the right amount of shine, complementing your soft curls. 

As you giggle and blush at her flattery, the nervous excitement for the upcoming performance bubbles within you. The show tonight is to the biggest audience you’ve played to yet, it’s monumental,—not only for the band but for you personally as it’s the first time you’re performing a solo. 

You’re wearing a black sheer top with a plunging neckline and flowing sleeves that billow with each movement, you slip on a black mini skirt that’s both short and incredibly tight, clinging to your curves in a way that makes you sigh in pride. It's a look designed to captivate, to announce your presence unapologetically as you take the lead mic for the first time.

As Nayoung skillfully applies the last of your makeup, her hands move with a familiar ease that only a best friend's touch could provide. "You're so pretty," she declares, each word a testament to the care she's put into helping you look your best.

Her continuous compliments send a warm flush across your cheeks, the kind of bashful response that has always come so naturally to you in moments like these. "Nayoung!" you giggle.

With a grateful smile, you meet her gaze in the mirror and say sincerely, "Thank you."

Eunji strides in, a grave look etched across her face, slicing through the casual atmosphere of the room. “Hey, have you seen this?” Her voice is heavy with concern as she places a comforting hand on your back, the other holding her phone out. “I normally ignore this group chat, but Yeji insisted I check it out.”

A message flashes across the screen, a taunt from Arin: "Me and Jeno are nearly back together ;)"

A laugh, bitter and hollow, bubbles up from your throat. "She’s so delusional. She’s completely out of touch with reality, it's almost amusing," you snort, though the humour doesn't quite reach your eyes. "Look, that’s an old photo, from two years ago. Jeno would never go back to her."

"Are you sure you’re okay with this?" Eunji's voice pierces through the quiet, her eyes probing, concerned.

"With what?" Your response is automatic, faint, the words barely a whisper as you mask the turmoil beneath.

"With you and Jeno being fully done." Her tone is gentle, coaxing out your true feelings.

"Yes," you reply, a little too quickly, a little too sharply. It's a lie you tell yourself as much as you tell them, a facade to protect your crumbling resolve.

After the party, where lines blurred under the influence of alcohol and a high that made the world seem less daunting, you and Jeno crossed paths in a way that was meant to be fleeting—just sex, a declaration of it being a one-night mistake, despite the undeniable connection. You’d insisted it was nothing more, even if every touch argued otherwise. It was supposed to be just a slip, a lapse in judgment not meant to mean anything, yet the memory of how right it felt lingers, challenging your assertions with silent, persistent whispers.

Tears well up, blurring your vision, threatening to break the dam of your composure. You blink them back furiously, determined not to let them see how deeply you're cut, how raw you still feel. The façade cracks just a bit, but you shore it up swiftly, desperate to appear unshaken.

"Apparently Arin is coming to the show tonight," Nayoung mentions, tactfully shifting the topic to distract you from the lingering sadness. Both of you roll your eyes in unison, sharing a brief, knowing laugh. "I think she’s more obsessed with you than Jeno at this point," she adds, her tone light, trying to inject some humor into the situation.

"And Jeno is coming," Eunji chimes in, her smile cryptic, a mischievous twinkle in her eye that you can't quite interpret. You shake your head, dismissing the notion with a wave of your hand.

"He won’t be there," you say flatly, the idea seeming almost absurd now.

"Didn’t he promise he would?" Eunji presses, her voice gentle yet probing, reminding you of commitments made under different circumstances.

"Yeah… when we were together. We’re not anymore," you mumble. 

──────────────────────────────

You should’ve known. 

Jeno isn’t one to break promises, especially not to you. His commitments are etched in stone—unyielding, devoted. Every action he's taken, every word he's spoken to you has been filled with an honesty and depth that few can muster. And tonight, he's here, just as he said he would be, a steady figure in the flux of faces, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on you from the audience.

As you take the stage, the weight of his gaze is like a warm blanket over your shoulders. It's here, in this bustling venue filled with the echoes of chords and melodies, that you feel his support envelop you. The lights cast shimmering halos around you, but none shine as bright as the look in his eyes—a blend of admiration and quiet sorrow for the distance that has grown between you, yet filled with hope.

He agreed that the two of you probably needed time away. He needed time to think, to realise what he truly wanted, and to fully understand and appreciate his feelings towards you and how real and serious they were.

Jeno stands beside Jaemin, lost in the sight of you commanding the stage, his gaze locked on you with an intensity that even Jaemin notices, chuckling softly at his friend's undisguised adoration. There's a softness in Jeno's eyes, a warmth that spreads through his chest as he watches you. He hadn't realised just how deeply he missed you until this moment, seeing you shine so brightly in your element, your confidence cascading over the crowd like a wave. 

Every note you sing, every move you make, seems to draw him in further, and he can't help but smile, a genuine, heartfelt expression that speaks volumes of the pride swelling within him. You've grown, blossomed into this magnetic presence on stage, and it fills him with an overwhelming sense of pride and joy. Jeno feels a warmth spreading through him, so profound and stirring that his heart aches pleasantly with every beat. Watching you now, radiant and captivating, he realises the depth of his feelings, each one laid bare in the soft glow of the spotlight that envelopes you. 

For Jeno, this moment crystallizes everything he feels for you—admiration, pride, and an affection so deep it transcends the music and the noise. It's as if the world falls away, leaving only the echo of his heart affirming what he knows deep down: that you mean everything to him. 

You are everything to him—breathtaking, irreplaceable, deeply cherished. The curve of your smile, the intensity in your eyes, and the passion in your voice all remind him of what he's been missing. He was only here for

you, he'd do anything for you. He misses your body, the close warmth of your body against his. Your laugh, your touch, the way you move—memories flood him, vivid and stirring. Seeing you now, so confident and radiant, intensifies his desire. Only you can make him feel this way. 

As you take the stage for your solo, the spotlight casts a gentle glow around you. Jeno, watching from the audience, feels a surge of affection and pride swell within him. He sees Yeji give your hand a reassuring squeeze, and his heart echoes that support from afar.

The moment you begin to describe the song, your voice trembles slightly with vulnerability. "It means a lot to me," you say, "it’s about someone that means a lot to me. This song is what falling in love feels like." Those words, so simple yet profoundly sincere, resonate through Jeno's very soul. He can feel the emotion pouring from you as you start to sing, each note laced with the raw, untamed feelings of love you hold.

As the melody fills the air, Jeno's eyes remain fixed on you, taking in every movement, every expression that flits across your face. To him, you embody everything breathtaking about being in love. The love he feels for you is a transformative force, a tidal wave of emotion that has reshaped his world. It's a feeling that lifts him higher than he’s ever been, yet grounds him more profoundly than he ever imagined possible.

He loves you not just for who you are to the world, but for who you are to him: a source of light, joy, and endless wonder. This love makes him feel alive, every beat of his heart synchronized with the rhythm of your song, every breath a shared moment between past and promise. Watching you there, the embodiment of passion and grace, Jeno's appreciation deepens. 

As you finish your song, the applause still ringing in your ears, you turn around to find Jeno already on stage, his presence both unexpected and unmistakable. "You did so well, I’m always so proud of you," he says, his voice brimming with pride. The closeness is overwhelming, and you avert your gaze, not ready to dive into the flood of emotions his presence brings. 

Your response is muted. “Thank you," barely audible, not quite reaching him. The anger that has been simmering inside you bubbles up. "Why are you here?" you ask sharply, the words slicing through the tension between you. 

"Just hear me out," Jeno whispers, his voice soft, trying to bridge the distance your words have created. You groan, frustration evident. "I promised you that I’d come, didn’t I?" he continues, his gaze intense, causing your head to spin with a mix of irritation and unresolved feelings.

"Jeno, you’re messing with our set, you need to go—" you start, trying to maintain your composure, but he cuts you off.

"Was that song about me?" he asks directly, looking for truth in your eyes.

"No," you reply through gritted teeth, anger flaring. "Why would it be about you?" your voice rises involuntarily.

"I love you too," he says, the softness in his voice attempting to bridge the gap your arguments had built. His words are a direct answer to the emotions you poured into your song, but they hover in the air, momentarily lost to you.

"You can’t just come on stage and do this, come up to me and act as if everything is okay," you retort, your focus more on the disruption than the message he's trying to convey.

"I love you too," he repeats firmly, his declaration halting your defences.

"What?" you whisper, the fight draining out of you as the realisation of his words slowly sinks in. He grins, his confidence reaching out to you across the void of your doubts.

"I love you—" 

His words dissolve into a heated clash of your lips, an urgent collision that ignites a primal hunger between you. Your mouths meld together in a frenzy, each kiss deeper and more desperate than the last. There’s a raw intensity to your connection, a magnetic pull drawing you closer with every touch. You can feel the heat of his breath mingling with yours, the taste of desire lingering on his tongue.

His kisses are fierce, a symphony of passion and longing as your lips move in sync. There’s an urgency in his touch, a hunger that matches your own as you lose yourselves in the heat of the moment. His hands roam over your body, igniting sparks of pleasure with every caress.

You gasp against his lips, the sensation overwhelming as he pulls you closer, his touch setting your skin ablaze with desire. His mouth moves hungrily against yours, each kiss leaving you breathless and wanting more.

With a low groan that vibrated against your skin, Jeno lifted you up effortlessly, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. His strong arms anchored you to him as he navigated off the stage, the world narrowing to just the space between you two. The pulse of the music and the heat of the spotlights faded into a distant hum, replaced by the racing of your hearts and the shallow breaths.

The audience’s laughter echoed faintly behind you, spurred by Sunwoo’s announcement through the mic, “I guess we’re doing the rest of the show without Y/N!” 

Navigating the cluttered backstage was a challenge, with Jeno’s arms securing you and your fingers tangled in his hair. The dimly lit corridors were a labyrinth of shadows and echoes, crew members dodging out of your way with rolled eyes and knowing smirks. But you and Jeno don’t care; you haven’t been together like this in so long. It couldn’t wait; you had to have each other here and now.

“Baby, tell me where the spare rooms are,” Jeno murmured against your stomach, each word a brush of hot breath that sent shivers down your spine.

“That room on the left, I think,” you whispered back, your voice a mixture of laughter and breathless anticipation.

He wasted no time, steering you toward the indicated door. His hand found the knob without breaking the kiss. “Really?” His voice echoed slightly in the cramped room, filled with musical and stage equipment. It was less a room and more a small storage space, instruments and cables haphazardly stacked around you.

Jeno navigated the clutter with ease, his lips finding your cheek in soft kisses as he surveyed the surroundings, an amused sparkle in his eyes. Your legs, still securely wrapped around his waist, tightened as you pulled him closer, craving the warmth of his mouth against yours. Your lips met in a desperate kiss, reaffirming the connection that buzzed electrically between you.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Jeno held you against it, your back pressed against it, pinning you between the solid wood and his solid chest. His hands roamed with purpose, tracing the curves of your body as if recommitting every detail to memory. 

“Please, Jeno,” you whispered into the kiss, your fingers fumbling at the hem of his shirt. The tight space made it awkward, and you laughed softly in frustration, your breath hitching as you tugged the fabric upwards. He hummed, a low, vibrating sound that seemed to stir the air itself.

“I need you,” you moaned, the words vibrating through you as you ground against him, feeling his arousal firm against your core. He caught the hint of urgency in your voice, his movements becoming more deliberate. With a fluid motion that spoke of his eagerness, Jeno stripped off his shirt, then helped you shed your top, the garments discarded carelessly among the instruments.

After a playful struggle with Jeno’s trousers and your tight skirt, you both finally shed the last barriers of clothing, now standing fully exposed. The room is filled with your shared laughter and affectionate eye smiles, echoing the deep connection you both feel in this cramped, instrument-cluttered space.

You don’t waste any time, When he looks into your eyes, he sees the same desire mirrored back at him, confirming that you want nothing more than to feel him inside you. “Fuck, baby,” he moans softly as he gently enters you, the initial connection drawing a deep, shared breath.

He’s tender with you, cooing praises and whispering words of adoration into your ear, his voice barely above a whisper. Sensing your discomfort as you adjust to him, he remains still for a moment, allowing you time to acclimate to his size. It’s been a while since you’ve had anything of his size in you, and Jeno is more than understanding. “Good girl,” he praises with each careful, slow thrust, his hands gripping you securely, reassuring you of his presence and support.

Now, unlike the distant haze of the party where you were too drunk and high to truly feel anything, you are completely sober. The only intoxication now comes from the drug of love itself. You feel all of him—his love, his heart, his touch, and the profound intensity of his cock that fills you completely. This is a stark, beautiful contrast to the numbness of before, making every moment, every movement, deeply significant.

“You’re so big,” you manage to say, your voice a mix of awe and overwhelmed pleasure, your eyes slightly unfocused from the intensity of the moment.

Looking down together at the place where your bodies meet, you both take in the sight—the profound intimacy of the connection. It’s almost overwhelming, the feeling of being so closely joined, and it brings tears to your eyes, not just from the physical sensation but also from the emotional depth of the moment.

“You’re barely in me,” you whisper, the slow stretch a sharp contrast to the deep need you both feel.

“It’s okay, my love. We’ll go slow. I just wanna take my time with you,” Jeno responds, his voice full of love and patience. His every move is calculated and tender, designed to reassure and pleasure you, making every second a slow, beautiful dance of intimacy.

He sighs in bliss, his eyes rolling back as the pace intensifies. His hips rock into yours with a steady, building rhythm. Each powerful thrust pushes deeper, aligning perfectly as your bodies move in perfect sync, rising and falling in unison.

The room fills with the sound of your ragged breaths, intermingling with the unmistakable slap of skin on skin, a primal melody of desire. With each thrust, he delves deeper, his movements precise and skillful, hitting all the right spots. Waves of pleasure radiate from where you’re joined, cascading through your body in a relentless tide.

“Fuck, you feel so good, so tight. I don’t ever wanna leave again,” he groans, the raw need in his voice vibrating against your skin.

You reach up, pulling him down for a soft, deep kiss. “You never left me,” you whisper against his lips, breathless and smiling. 

He chuckles softly, kissing your nose. “I meant my cock in your pussy, beautiful.”

“Oh,” you reply with a light laugh, your cheeks flushing with a mix of arousal and affection.

His hands grip your hips firmly, anchoring you as he thrusts deeper, each movement deliberate and profound. “You take me so well, don’t you, baby? Like you were made just for me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

You nod, breathless. “Made just for you,” you echo, pulling him down for a passionate kiss. This pace, slow and patient, carries a warmth that fills you completely. It’s different for you and Jeno, it’s slower, allowing you to savor each moment, to actually talk and maintain eye contact with the man you love as you make love to him.

Your nails dig into his shoulders as he drives into you relentlessly, each thrust deep and meaningful. “I’ve missed this so much,” you whisper, and the two of you can’t hold back your grins, your chests and mouths aching from smiling so much.

He nods, his eyes alight with affection. “I haven’t had sex since you,” he admits, and you gasp, thinking he’s joking at first but soon realizing he’s earnest.

“You — you — really? You haven’t slept with anyone but me?” you question, your surprise evident.

“I haven’t even wanted to. You’re the only girl I’ve had sex with ever since meeting you. Why would I have sex with anyone else when I’m in love with you?” he responds, his voice soft yet resonant, clear and full of truth. His straightforward honesty leaves you speechless, overwhelmed by the simplicity and depth of his feelings. “It’s always been you, it’s you,” he clarifies, each word punctuating the space between you with its significance.

“I love you so much.” His declaration comes easily, filled with an earnestness that wraps around you like a warm blanket. He continues, his words a caress to your soul, telling you how much he cares, how beautiful you are to him, and how deeply he desires to make you feel cherished and adored. The intimacy of the moment, enriched by his heartfelt confessions, deepens the connection, transforming a physical act into an expression of love and commitment.

As you murmur your reciprocation, “Mmm, and I love you,” his movements grow even more focused. His cock slides deeper into you with every thrust, stretching you deliciously, making you feel every inch of him. 

“You feel so perfect,” he groans, his voice low and husky. The warmth of his breath against your ear sends shivers down your spine as he continues to move within you, slow but intense.

Each thrust pushes him deeper, your body eagerly welcoming him, adjusting to his size and the depth of his penetrations. Your intertwined legs enable him to reach angles that send waves of pleasure radiating throughout your body, each push a testament to his words of devotion.

Your response to his movements is instinctive and unrestrained, you smile back, meeting his thrusts with your own. The room is filled with the sound of your connected bodies, the rhythmic slapping of skin against skin punctuating the air with the reality of your physical and emotional union.

Your laughter and whispers mingle with the warmth of your breaths. “We’re going to have so much sex now,” you laugh against his lips, feeling his smile in the kiss as you add, “we have a lot of making up for lost time.”

He pulls back slightly, locking eyes with you, a gleam of excitement and affection in his gaze. “I’m sorry you’ve gone so long without having sex. I’m gonna make it up to you though, don’t worry,” you tease, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively.

He shakes his head, his smile deepening, filled with a sincerity that tugs at your heart. “It’s all worth it. You’re worth the wait, and you don’t need to make anything up to me, you’ve never done anything wrong,” he assures you, his hand gently caressing your cheek, thumb brushing softly against your skin.

“I love you so much,” you whisper, your voice laced with the desperation of nearing climax. The vulnerability in your tone makes his heart swell.

“Say it again,” Jeno breathes out, his voice rough with his own need. His hands grip your hips tighter, guiding you to meet each of his thrusts. The sound of your bodies moving together in desperate rhythm fills the room, a testament to the depth of your connection.

“I love you, Jeno,” you repeat, louder this time, each word punctuated by his thrusts. “I love you so much.”

He moans in response, his forehead resting against yours as he looks into your eyes, seeing nothing but the raw emotion reflected back at him. “And I love you, more than anything,” he says, his voice breaking with emotion. “You’re everything to me.”

The pace quickens as you both near the brink, the pressure building to an almost unbearable intensity. You feel him swell inside you, and you know he’s close. His eyes never leave yours, holding your gaze as if to memorize every detail in this perfect, fragile moment.

Your back arches against the wall, pushing you even closer to him. “Jeno, I’m—”

“I know, baby, me too,” he whispers, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that steals your breath away. His movements become erratic, a sign he’s lost in the sensation, driven by the overwhelming love and desire he feels for you.

With a final, deep thrust, you feel him tremble, his grip on you tightening as he reaches his climax. The warmth of him spills inside you just as your own climax washes over you, a wave of intense pleasure that leaves you clinging to him, moaning into his mouth.

As you both ride out the waves of your climaxes, soft whimpers and sighs fill the air, each breath a whisper of the love you share. Gradually, your breathing slows, and Jeno’s embrace softens around you, holding you as if he could shield you from the world forever

The room is filled with a charged silence, broken only by his earnest words. "I'm sorry about everything," he says, his voice thick with emotion. 

You shake your head gently, your hands finding comfort as they run through his hair. "You don’t need to be," you reply softly, feeling the weight of his apologies and the sincerity in his eyes.

He meets your eyes, his own filled with a raw sincerity. “But I do need to be. I’m so incredibly sorry for standing you up. I should have been there, and I wasn’t—no excuses,” he confesses, the honesty in his tone underscoring the gravity of his apology.

He holds your gaze, his eyes earnest and filled with a quiet intensity. "I've spent a lot of time thinking about how to make this right," he begins, his voice steady and sincere. "I'm not going to make excuses or try to justify my actions—there’s no point in that. Instead, what I can do is promise you that I'll be better from now on. I won’t hurt you like this again." His commitment rings clear in his tone, showing his determination to mend things and move forward.

You nod, a smile breaking across your face as you lean in, eager to seal your understanding with a kiss. But he just chuckles softly, evading your lips with a playful ease that only heightens your affection for him.

His hands cup your face, thumbs gently caressing your cheeks as he continues, "I just wanna explain myself to you, baby, so you know where I’m at, so you know how serious I am. I’m over Arin—completely. There’s no part of me that still wants her; every beat of my heart is for you now. You don’t need to worry about me feeling attached to her anymore."

Your heart swells with his words, and you lean in to press your lips against his in a reassuring kiss. "I believe you," you whisper against his lips, sealing your trust in him with the warmth of your embrace.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours, vulnerable yet hopeful. "I was hurt after what happened with Arin, I had never experienced heartbreak like that. I just pushed down the pain and I didn’t deal with it. But then I met you... you changed everything. You were so magnetic, so perfect in my eyes. I’ve never met anyone who makes me feel the way you do, not even Arin. I knew that you were someone important and that I had to keep you close."

Listening, you nod, understanding more of his past and feeling the depth of his revelation. His voice grows softer, "But the entire thing with Arin still made me doubtful, not of you or our love but a part of me wasn’t over what she did, a part of me hadn’t healed. But every second I spend with you, being loved by you, I feel that part of me healing. I don’t know why I was so scared to become official with you but all I know is that I’m ready to be yours, I want to belong to you. I’m sorry it took me this long to realize, but I’m here now, yours for a lifetime. I want to love you forever, in this universe and every other one we might find ourselves in."

Tears stream down your face as you grin, touched by his declaration. "You’re so romantic," you giggle, your voice shaky with emotion. His presence, the gravity of his words, and the love in his eyes—it all makes you feel a rush of shyness and excitement.

Despite the deep connection you share, he still has this incredible ability to make you feel giddy, as if every encounter with him is like the first. His gentle touch, his soft laughter in response to yours, it reassures you and intensifies the butterflies in your stomach. And you don’t see that ever going away; it’s a part of the magic that makes your relationship feel perpetually new and thrilling.

He smiles, his own eyes glistening, and then he begins to kiss every inch of your face. Each kiss is soft, affectionate, a silent promise, and a whisper of his love. He kisses your eyelids, each one a gentle blessing, then down to your nose, making you laugh with a light peck that tickles. His lips travel over your cheeks, leaving a trail of warmth, before brushing a kiss on your chin. Finally, he returns to your lips, this kiss deeper, more punctuating. 

“So, what now?” you ask, your hands moving to cup his face, drawing him close enough that you can feel his breath mingle with yours.

“I wanna take you everywhere,” he responds with a hopeful sparkle in his eyes.

You hum, a sound filled with contentment and anticipation.

His eyes light up with excitement as he continues, “I want you to meet my parents, my family. I wanna take you on so many dates, getaways, holidays. Every experience I can think of, I want to share it with you.”

"That sounds like a good idea," you start, a glint of excitement and curiosity lighting up your eyes as you lean in a little closer. "And anything else?" you ask, your voice a playful whisper, inviting him to reveal more of his dreams for the two of you.

He shakes his head, a mischievous glint in his eye, as he pretends to think hard while scratching his neck. “I don’t think so,” he whispers playfully, drawing out the moment just to tease you a little more.

You tut, rolling your eyes at his antics. “Ask me to be your girlfriend,” you whine, your voice carrying a mix of playful sternness and impatience.

He softens, his eyes locking with yours as he replies earnestly, “I want it to be romantic. I wanna make you feel like the most special girl in the world; I want it to be memorable. It’s what you deserve.” His words flow warmly, filling you with an indescribable feeling of love and anticipation.

Looking into his eyes, you find all the romance and significance the moment needs. “Looking into your eyes is all I need, that’s romantic enough for me,” you admit, your voice soft and sincere.

He chuckles, his hold on you firm and reassuring. “Are you sure? Right now, I’m holding you against the wall, my cock is still in you, and we’re surrounded by drums and guitars.”

You smile up at him. “And I can’t think of anything more romantic,” you wink, affirming that every aspect of this moment—unconventional as it may be—is perfect in its own right.

He gives in, his voice soft yet filled with conviction. “I want to be yours, I want to be your boyfriend,” he declares, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Are you ready for that?” you ask, the seriousness of your question tempered by the excitement in your tone.

“I’m more than ready,” he responds in a heartbeat, his assurance unwavering.

The sound you make is girlish, bright, and brimming with hope—a sweet giggle that speaks volumes of your love and excitement. You nod giddily, your hands reaching out to pull him closer, longing to seal his words with a kiss. But as you lean in, he gently pulls back, a teasing sparkle in his eyes. 

"I need you to ask me. I wanna hear it coming from your lips. You're going to be my first girlfriend, after all," he says, his voice a tender mix of nervousness and anticipation

“You’re so annoying.” You huff.

He ignores you. "And am I going to be your first boyfriend?" he teases further.

You nod, your eyes locked on his, filled with affection and a deep, unspoken promise. "My first and last," you whisper softly, finally closing the small distance between you to press a gentle, loving kiss on his lips. The kiss is a mingling of smiles and slight laughter, light but filled with the depth of your feelings.

"Will you be my boyfriend?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, your eyes searching for his answer.

"I’d want nothing more," he smiles, his voice warm and resolute. Finally, he leans in to give you the kiss you've been waiting for, his lips meeting yours in a sweet, firm embrace that feels like a sealing of everything you've promised each other. His hands gently caress your back, pulling you closer as if trying to merge your heartbeats. The kiss deepens, fueled by the joy of his acceptance and the shared eagerness for what lies ahead.

His touch is gentle yet eager, exploring the curve of your back, tracing the lines of your shoulders as you deepen the kiss, reveling in the closeness. It’s a kiss filled with the promise of new beginnings, of adventures to come, and the silent vow of being each other’s first, last, and everything in between. As you pull away slightly to catch your breath, you rest your forehead against his, both of you smiling, breathless and exhilarated by the shared affection and the thrilling prospect of your future together.

──────────────────────────────EPILOGUE

──────────────────────────────

The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the campus as you finally step out, the last of your exams behind you. Your mind is still buzzing with residual stress, but as you spot Jeno waiting nearby, a smile breaks across your face. He hasn't seen you approach yet, his attention momentarily caught by his phone.

"Hi," you whisper as you close the distance, slipping your arms around him from behind and pressing a gentle kiss against his cheeks. He's momentarily surprised but recovers quickly, his arms encircling you in a warm, welcoming embrace. You giggle softly against his mouth, breathing out, "Happy birthday, baby."

"Thank you," he replies, his voice soft, a wide smile spreading across his face as he turns to pull you closer. You pull back just enough to look him over, biting your lip as you take in his carefully chosen outfit, perfect for the celebration you've planned. "You look so good," you say, letting your eyes roam appreciatively.

He chuckles, a sound that fills you with warmth. "Let’s celebrate your special day," you suggest seductively, your voice low enough only for his ears. Hand in hand, you start walking, his arm finding its way around your waist, drawing you into his side. You feel as though you're in your own little world, the campus around you blurring into the background.

As you pass by Arin and Jiwon, you notice their sharp glances. They seem unable to hide their disdain, but today, their reactions don't touch you. They're nothing more than background noise. Today is about Jeno, about celebrating all that he is, and nothing, especially not petty jealousy, can detract from that.

As you and Jeno walk towards the car, the quiet of the sun wraps around you, enhancing the intimacy of your connection. His arm is draped securely around your waist, pulling you close as your bodies move in sync. Each step seems to draw you even closer, his warmth radiating against you, his fingers occasionally tracing small, comforting circles on your hip. When you reach the car, he maintains that tender contact, his other hand reaching to open the door for you, his eyes locking with yours in a look that makes your heart skip a beat. You slide into the seat, the soft leather cool against your skin, and he closes the door with a soft, deliberate thud that seems to echo the quickening of your pulse.

No sooner does he slide into the driver’s seat than the atmosphere shifts palpably. With a fluid motion, he pulls you across to straddle his lap, his movements confident and filled with intent. His hands settle back on your hips, his grip firmer now, decisively possessive as he draws you flush against him. The soft leather of the seat embraces your sides, and you can feel the strength of his body beneath you, solid and reassuring. You look down at him, a smile spreading across your face, and he mirrors it, his eyes alight with desire. The space between you crackles with electric tension, your proximity eliminating any barriers as you lean in. The kiss you share is deep and consuming, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that leaves you breathless. His hands roam your back, pressing you closer, deepening the kiss to a fervour that speaks volumes of the night ahead.

As you break the kiss to catch your breath, your eyes remain locked on his, shining with a mix of affection and residual excitement. “The exam was intense,” you confess, your voice a breathy whisper that only he can hear, “like, really draining. But right now, it feels like a distant memory.” Your hand gently caresses his cheek, the touch light but loaded with meaning.

Jeno listens intently, his eyes never leaving yours, his hands steady on your hips. He smiles reassuringly, squeezing you a little closer. “I’m just glad you’re here now,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. His concern is palpable, making you feel cherished and safe. As you settle deeper into the moment, Jeno leans over slightly, reaching into the backseat. He pulls forward a bouquet, his movements smooth and practiced. Your curiosity peaks as he hands them to you with a proud grin.

"What's this for?" you ask, your smile broadening as you take in the surprise. Gently pulling the bouquet closer, you breathe in the scent. The roses are lush, each petal velvety and richly colored in a deep, vibrant red that speaks of passion and careful selection. Their fresh, sweet aroma fills the car, enveloping you in the essence of nature and romance. "My favorite," you giggle, still grinning as you admire the thoughtful gift. Jeno has a habit of surprising you with such gestures, each one unexpected and delightful.

"I know," he replies, his smile wide and genuine, pleased with your reaction. “It's your birthday, why are you giving me gifts?" you question playfully, pressing your lips against his in a tender, loving kiss, savoring the moment before pulling back just enough to speak.

"Just happy and grateful that I’m spending it with you," he admits, his voice sincere and filled with warmth. The intimacy of his confession adds a special depth to the atmosphere in the car. "So am I," you respond, nudging your nose affectionately against his. "Don’t worry, I got so many gifts for you waiting back at home."

He shakes his head, a laugh escaping him. "You didn’t need to, you don’t think the expensive New York trip is enough?" he teases, his tone light yet touched with appreciation. Smiling, you look into his eyes, filled with affection. "You're my boyfriend. You deserve all the gifts and love in the world." The statement hangs in the air, a testament to your deep feelings for him, sealing the exchange with a promise of continued devotion and celebration.

The drive home was urgent, the need between you palpable; you both were desperate to fuck. But, constrained by time, you had to improvise once you arrived home. As you rushed inside, you made a beeline for the bedroom, where Jeno took a seat, ready and waiting. You didn’t waste a moment—immediately, you slipped out of your clothes and gently eased back onto Jeno, taking him inside you. This wasn’t the wild ride you both craved, but the intimacy of cockwarming, sitting down slowly, feeling every inch as you adjusted to his size, created a different kind of intensity.

As you gently settle back onto Jeno, easing down onto his cock, the connection deepens with the controlled intimacy of the act. The heat between you amplifies as you adjust, sinking slowly until you’re fully seated, enveloped by the warmth of his body. His breath hitches, a soft, involuntary sound that mirrors the slow-building tension. His hands, warm and reassuring, glide over your hips, securing you against him. This isn’t just a momentary touch; it’s an extended embrace, maintaining this intensely personal connection as you start your routine at the vanity. Jeno’s gaze through the mirror is intense yet tender, a silent dialogue of looks and subtle smiles that says everything words cannot.

As you started applying your makeup at the vanity, Jeno's presence was a constant source of warmth behind you. Perched comfortably with him inside you, you could feel his gaze on you, filled with admiration and affection. His compliments flowed freely, making the corners of your mouth turn up in a constant smile. While brushing on a bit of blush, you caught his eye in the mirror and flashed him a meaningful look.

“I promise we will go on a proper date sometime soon,” you said, extending your pinky towards him in the reflection. “I’ll take you out someplace really nice, and we can celebrate your day just the way it deserves.” He hummed in approval, the sound vibrating warmly against your back, and he leaned forward to plant a soft kiss on your cheek, his stubble brushing lightly against your skin.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered, his hands on your hips squeezing gently, reinforcing his words with tender touches. Each compliment he uttered only deepened the flush on your cheeks, not just from the makeup, but from the glow of being so cherished and adored. This intimate setting, underscored by his loving words, made the moment feel like a delicate pause in time, filled with the promise of all the evenings to come. Reluctantly, you slide off Jeno’s lap to finish preparing for the night’s plans. The room is set perfectly: the bed is decorated with rose petals and flowers, creating a romantic ambiance, and his gifts are all carefully arranged, each one chosen with care to celebrate the occasion. As you stand to lay out your lingerie—a final touch for the evening—he watches you intently. His gaze is full of desire as he follows every movement, his appreciation evident in the way his eyes widen.

The lingerie, delicate and inviting, is spread across the bed. You pick up a piece, running your fingers over the silky fabric, then glance back at Jeno with a playful challenge in your eyes. Returning to his lap, you settle back down onto him, feeling his arousal distinctly as you resume the intimate contact. Your hands roam over your curves, accentuating each line as you lean closer to him and whisper suggestively,

“Want me to wear it now?” Your voice is low and teasing, your lip caught between your teeth as you tilt your head towards the lingerie. Jeno’s response is immediate and filled with raw desire. “Mmm, I’d rather take it off from your body,” he growls softly, his hands gripping your hips more firmly. The promise in his words sends a shiver of anticipation through you, setting the tone for a night that promises to be as intense as it is intimate.

As the evening approaches, the anticipation is tangible. Jeno's presence is magnetic, the way his shirt hangs open just enough to reveal the contours of his muscled chest, each line accentuated by the dim lighting. Notably, a tattoo graces his chest—one of his new ones, it’s a design that echoes the one inked on your own body, a silent testament to your love and commitment. The sight of him, so effortlessly handsome, stirs a deep desire within you. You're drawn to the strength evident in his biceps, traced under your fingers, feeling the solidity of his presence. Overwhelmed by his allure, and unable to resist the pull of your attraction, you press him against the wall in a quiet corner before you leave. There, in that secluded space, you sink to your knees, driven by an intense desire to be even closer.

The moment is electric, his hands finding their way to your hair, guiding you gently yet fervently. As you take him into your mouth, the heat between you deepens. His response is immediate, his breath catching in sharp intakes as he encourages your movements with a subtle, appreciative pressure that intensifies the intimacy of the act.

The drive to the venue is charged with an electric tension, the confined space of the car making every touch feel more intense. Once again, you lean towards him, your actions marked by an intimate familiarity that only deepens the connection. As you dedicate this moment to him, his sharp intakes of breath and the low, appreciative sounds he makes are muffled only by the soft hum of the engine. Each motion is a celebration of his birthday, a personal tribute that makes the night unforgettable, your dedication clear in every deliberate touch and whispered vow of affection.

As you step out of the car, Jeno's lips find the back of your head, planting a soft kiss that sends a shiver down your spine. He murmurs a compliment on how beautiful you look tonight, his voice a warm whisper that wraps comfortingly around you. But before you can respond, he produces a blindfold—the very one you both use during sex. Surprise flits across your face as he gently places it over your eyes. The world goes dark, and a thrilling shiver of anticipation runs through you. Guiding you silently by the hand, Jeno leads you forward. Your heart beats a tad faster, fueled by a mix of excitement and curiosity. "Jeno, what are you doing?" you ask, your voice tinged with both amusement and slight apprehension. He only smirks in response, his silence intriguing and mysterious.

"Just trust me, baby," he breathes softly into your ear, his words tingling down your spine as he reassures you once more. A few moments later, he carefully removes the blindfold, and you're greeted with a sight that takes your breath away. Your eyes widen, and a gasp escapes your lips as you take in the scene before you. He's rented out your favourite bar and transformed it into a personal celebration space. The room bursts with your favorite colours and decorations; soft music that you love fills the air, creating a perfect backdrop. The bar is stocked with your favourite drinks, and tables are laden with dishes you adore.

The warmth of the surprise envelops you, and as you cover your mouth with your hands, a wide grin spreads across your face. Turning to Jeno, your eyes sparkle with unshed tears of joy. He stands watching your reaction, his own smile mirroring your happiness. "Jeno!!! What is this for?" you exclaim as you throw your arms around him, holding him close. You look up into his eyes, seeking an explanation for this unexpected celebration.

"Celebrating your end of exams. I’m so proud of how hard you’ve worked," he says simply, his thumb caressing your cheek tenderly. You lean into his touch, feeling utterly cherished.

"But it’s your birthday," you giggle, a playful note in your voice.

He shakes his head, his eyes soft with affection. "I don’t mind. We’re going to celebrate that eventually. I just wanted to make this day special for you. I’d rather show love for my girl on my birthday anyways," he confesses, his words wrapping around you like a warm blanket. First, Nayoung and Eunji greet you with open arms and bright smiles, their laughter mingling with the soft music in the background. The hug you share is tight and warm, a testament to the countless days you’ve spent together, supporting and enjoying each other’s company.

Nearby, Sunwoo and Yeji stand together, hands intertwined, sharing a look of contentment. You join them with a gentle tease about their new official status, and their happiness adds a joyful note to the atmosphere. Eric waits with a knowing grin, ready with a supportive embrace. His steady friendship has been a cornerstone of your college life, always there through thick and thin.

Everywhere you look, it’s a manifestation of Jeno’s love and thoughtfulness—a night dedicated not just to your achievements but to the joy of being together. The entire evening is a celebration of your hard work and his unwavering support, a beautiful testament to the depth of his feelings for you. As you take in the surroundings, filled with everything and everyone you love, you realize just how deeply Jeno understands and cherishes you, making the end of your exams an unforgettable milestone.

As you rest your head against Jeno's shoulder, you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your cheek, a soothing pulse that syncs perfectly with the hum of voices and laughter around you. His arms wrap around you, a secure and comforting embrace that makes the rest of the world fade away. Jeno leans in, his breath warm against your ear. "You make everything complete," he whispers, each word a soft melody that dances along your nerves, sending shivers of delight through you. His lips brush lightly against your earlobe, a tender gesture that makes you melt further into his embrace.

You tilt your head to look up at him, meeting his gaze. His eyes are deep pools of affection, reflecting a love so profound it seems to envelop you entirely. The way he looks at you, with such admiration and care, fills you with a warmth that radiates from the inside out. Jeno's hand gently cradles your face, his thumb caressing your cheek softly. He leans down, closing the small distance between you, and his lips meet yours in a slow, purposeful kiss. It's a kiss that speaks of years of love and promises yet to be kept, soft and sweet yet filled with an intensity that makes your heart swell. As you kiss, the noise of the bar fades into a distant murmur, the world narrowing down to just the two of you.

As he pulls back slightly, he smiles, that heart-stopping smile that always seems to say so much more than words could. "I love you," he murmurs, so softly it's almost lost beneath the swell of music and laughter, but you hear it clear as day—a vow, a declaration, a truth shared between soulmates. You nestle closer, the simple joy of this moment encapsulating everything wonderful about your life together.

As the moment lingers, you nestle closer into Jeno's embrace, feeling the contentment and love that fills the air. "I'm so happy," you whisper, the words a soft exhalation against his skin. The simple admission feels like the most profound declaration, carrying with it all the weight and wonder of your shared journey.

Jeno's response is immediate and tender, a reflection of the feelings that shimmer palpably between you. He nudges his nose gently against yours, a playful yet intimate gesture that draws a light laugh from you both. "As long as you're happy, I'm happy," he says, his voice low and resonant with emotion. His words echo the depth of his commitment, each syllable reinforcing the bond you share.

He gazes into your eyes, his look intense and full of promise. "You make me happy.” he continues, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw softly. The warmth in his eyes and the sincerity in his voice envelop you like a soft blanket, comforting and secure. The connection you share deepens with these small exchanges, each touch and word weaving a stronger fabric of intimacy. The world around you—the chatter, the clinking glasses, the laughter—blurs into a background soundtrack to the profound scene unfolding between you and Jeno. Here, in his arms, surrounded by friends and the echoes of shared laughter, you find a profound sense of belonging and happiness. His presence is a steady pulse in your life, the heartbeat that syncs perfectly with your own.

You watch everyone, all your friends who you love and cherish so much—some slightly swaying, others boldly singing along to the music, their laughter mingling with the rhythmic beats pulsating through the space. They're all here, each person delightfully lost in the celebration, some drunk, some high, all radiating sheer joy.

You turn back to Jeno, drawing closer to him, feeling the secure embrace of your loving boyfriend. His arms wrap around you, pulling you into a world that feels separate from the chaos around. In his eyes, you find a home, a safe haven where you can let go of everything else. The noise, the music, the jubilant shouts of your friends fade into a soft backdrop to the silent conversation held in his gaze. "I love you," slips easily from your lips, a simple truth that resonates deeply between the two of you.

"I love you more," Jeno replies, his voice steady and sure, echoing the commitment in his eyes. He leans in, his nose gently nudging yours in an affectionate gesture, his breath mingling with yours, drawing a gentle laugh from your lips. "Thank you for this," you add, gesturing subtly at the joyous chaos he orchestrated just for you, making the night unforgettable.

The night deepens, and the atmosphere thickens with more than just smoke and laughter; it’s heavy with the intangible, yet palpable, love that you share with Jeno. He holds you closer, each beat of the music enhancing this intimate connection. As you rest your head against his shoulder, feeling the rhythm of his heart, you think about how profoundly he has shaped your world. In the midst of friends who are celebrating with abandon, your focus remains tethered to him, the architect of your happiness.

Lee Jeno, the maker of your universe, stands with you in the center of a whirling storm of joy, his presence a constant force, grounding and uplifting. And as you lose yourself in his embrace, you realize that this is exactly where you belong, in the arms of the love of your life, surrounded by friends who share your joy. This realization isn't just comforting—it's a declaration of your shared future, bright and promising, under the watchful eyes of the stars.

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it’s over :((( i feel emotional. this was my baby fr and i loved writing every single second of it. i feel so heavy with love, thank you so much for all of your support with this part <3 i cannot tell you how much it means to me. the love i’ve gotten for this in such a short amount of time will never fail to blow my mind. i love you and thank you. 🫶🫶 hopefully you stick with me in the future and i can impress you with my other work <3 

please interact with this part and lmk what you thought!! means so much more to me than you’d know mwah. also had to format the epilogue in big para’s or else it wouldn’t have posted

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[maiko-san]

Catnap + Dogday x Reader ( Part 3 )

<<< Part 2 , Part 4 >>>

Relationship: Fluff

Warning : Hurt/comfort

Character focused : Catnap, Fem! Reader

Plot : Even though you manage to win Catnap's favour through treats

A/n : As a reminder, Catnap is Theo who is a 7 year old child during this period. He's the youngest out of all Smiling Critters in my headcanon since he was the last smiling critter to be shown by MOB!

"Here's your treat for the day! You did even better than before, I'm proud of you!"

Catnap has been doing quite well recently. Giving him rewards after he did his job does the trick pretty well.

Guess one way to someone's heart is through food was a thing after all.

Catnap sits there as he stares at the food you've given him.

You were busy looking through your clipboard to even notice that the feline hasn't left his spot.

Catnap always questioned himself, why do you care about him?

Almost all the staff here ignore him completely as if he never exists, except you.

He is considered as a troublesome mascot to deal with, even before he was Catnap.

Just why....?

Why do you waste your time on him when you can focus on other mascots?

Catnap likes how you treated him. You were gentle as the others had said.

You finally notice the purple feline hasn't left the room, usually Catnap would slip away immediately after he gets his treat and eat it somewhere else.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"...."

Catnap only looks down on you with those beady white eyes, before tilting his head slightly.

The feline mascots got on all four without breaking eye contact with you, he leans his face close to you and says.

"Why?"

"Pardon?"

"Why do....you care about me.......?"

You quirk an eyebrow at his questions, yes his file did said he was troublesome but why did he ask such a question?

"It's simple, it's my job to take care of each one of you. Not only just that, I want to be your friend!"

"You....want to be my...friend?"

"Yeah!"

The only close friend he had was Dogday and The Prototype, he wasn't that close to the other Smiling Critters since they rarely interact with him.

But the idea of having a new friend makes him happy.

He has a new friend. Catnap picks you up by surprise and holds you high up in the air.

Your body went stiff as you cling onto the mascot's paws for dear life. You weren't used to being picked up by the mascots yet. You're 20 ft in the air!

"You are my friend now...."

Catnap said with a wide smile on his face with his tail standing up straight behind him.

He feels very happy!

From that day, Catnap would sneak around to see you and to cuddle with you.

Every time you scratch under his chin, the feline would purr very loudly and you swore that it would cause the entire office to shake.

Sometimes Catnap would be a menace and push things off the desk just to mess with you.

There is one time you decide to play peek-a-boo with the feline mascot, which turns out to be horrifying and Catnap would get closer every time you take a peek.

But it was a fun game.

Catnap mostly spends his day in your office, with him curling around your desk and has his tail wrapped around your leg, so you couldn't go anywhere while he's asleep.

"Catnap...I need to go to the bathroom..."

"....."

"Catnap, please"

Don't get you started when you caught him trying to fit himself in a small box. It was hilarious and cute at the same time.

Like Dogday said, Catnap is a friendly and sweet cat.

Seeing how he acts around you reminds you of your days in the orphanage. Yes, you were once an orphan, seeing these smiling critters reminded you of the younger orphans that you used to take care of. The way they act brings up old memories in your mind.

You wish to see them but the orphanage you once lived in no longer exists due to financial problems just a year after you were dismissed.

The residents around the place told you that they were moved to someplace else, which the location remained unknown.

You hoped that they were able to find a perfect home and have loving families.

TIMESKIP

You're looking through the files, you have done with all the Smiling Critters except for Catnap....

Your supervisor doesn't let you check on him for a reason.

In his file, Catnap is stated as 'Dangerous' and only a high-class personnel is able to do a maintenance check on him.

You always wonder why though....

They would bring him somewhere and return him to the playcare a week later, he would come back looking exhausted and malnourished.

His fur isn't as soft as the other critters, it was rough and matted, sometimes you could smell the scent of burned....flesh on him and also a hint of blood too.

Also, Catnap always has new wounds on his body. Especially his wrists and chest area, like he was prodded by something. Which worries you a lot, what did the higher ups have done to him?

Once the playcare is closed down for the night, you sneak into his hidden room so you could give him a proper treatment.

"It's alright, just rest as much as you can"

"It hurts..."

"I know, I'll do as much as I can to make the pain stop. I-I'm sorry that I couldn't do anything to help you, I wish I could've done more...."

It was heart wrenching to see Catnap this way, his head is huddled close to your body as he seeks comfort in your embrace.

The sound of his weak purr was the only thing that fills the silence in the small room.

After 6 months working for the Playcare you came to realize that these smiling critters are able to bleed....

Pickypiggy cut herself up when she was using the knife during one of her cooking sessions on her stage. Poor Picky bleeds a lot from the cut and you had to stitch her up and bandage her wound.

You had a suspicition that the higher ups are hiding something, something sinister and dark. You had asked some of your coworkers/seniors about it but they just dismissed you.

Saying that you grew TOO attached to these mascots and start to see them as real people.

The sudden shift of Catnap brings you out from your deep thoughts.

"Can you sing me....a lullaby, my star....."

"Of course"

A/n : I added a little of Reader's lore here :D. Thank you for enjoying the chapters so far!

I have a headcanon for the smiling critters which is—

That they don't remember about their previous lives as a human until 'The Hour of Joy' happens, the only Smiling Critters that are aware of it is Catnap/Theo himself.

So, after 'The Hour of Joy' happens, the smiling critters start to remember their past lives and from the moment they become more aware of their existence and barely clinging on the last bit of sanity they have left.

[jesswritesthat]

Atsumu Miya: Second Choice

Fandom: Haikyuu!! — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: ~2.2k, fluff

• You were never first choice, so it comes as a surprise when he notices your presence before anyone else.

Warnings: None

>>>>——————————>

It was always the same, you'd watched as people flocked to beauty, straight past you every time. In reality when you became friends with Sachiko it was because she had a great personality, you couldn't have possibly predicted she'd become the most beautiful and popular girl in school by the time you'd reached Inarizaki High.

Regardless of her sparkling status, she remained your best friend and you'd usually be found together throughout the school premises along with anyone else who joined you at the start of first year.

When the Volleyball team grew more intoxicating, it was Sachiko who'd excitedly dragged you along to one of their home training matches. It's where you first laid eyes upon the famous Miya twins, a vicious team of spiker and setter with a serve worthy of award among them. Already they had personal fans and the cheer squad screaming their praises, you're surprised they didn't get mauled in the hallways.

Now you'd seen them, you recognised them in school and they apparently had space to breathe aside from the odd confession here and there. You'd regularly seen that with Sachiko though, she'd often be either pulled to the side or you'd bear witness to some lovestruck soul gushing their heart out for her.

It was humbling in a way, you were the one who goes unnoticed but notices everything. Including if feelings were reciprocated, and you're certain you deducted gossip before it even became that, you'd been getting accurate in predicting things lately. However, you never predicted one of them to notice you.

Especially him.

"Hey, ya in one of my classes right?" In honesty you didn't even realise it was you this voice was addressing since Sachiko lingered by your side, not until a careful tap drew your attention to the blonde twin rather than your locker.

"Huh? Oh I think so, it hasn't been long enough to learn everyone's name yet. You're the volleyball player though."

"Ah, have ya seen me play? Like it?" His head tilted in curiosity, proud smirk upon his lips.

"You were really good, you have great form when you serve." With that you nodded to him, slipping on your shoes and walking off with your best friend quickly following in tow.

"Woah— wait up!" You didn't even look back in the swarm of leaving students. "I didn't get yer name..."

———

It wasn't until a week or so later did he 'confidently' interact with you again, this time his call far more effective in hailing your attention.

"(L/n) (Y/n)!"

Immediately you spun to the origin, finding none other than Miya Atsumu dodging a group of fangirls rather effortlessly on his way to you.

"You know my name."

"Yeah 'course. You know who I am so it's only fair." It was surefire charisma, one you'd soon extinguish.

"Miya Osamu isn't it?"

"Ye—Hey?! YA GOTTA BE KIDDIN'!"

"'Tsumu shut ya mouth!" The namesake twin glared harshly at his counterpart, quickly flashing a calmer look when you'd addressed him.

"Ah, hey Miya-san. I apologise, that was my fault for winding your brother up."

"Dumbass has control of his own mouth." Osamu politely assured, meanwhile Atsumu reclaimed your peripheral with a childish pout.

"So ya knew ma name all along and decided to be freakin' mean about it? On our second meetin' too."

"I couldn't resist, you're so cute when you're mad."

"I'm— oh ya think I'm cute?" Atsumu stammered slightly, your smirk only widening upon noting the crimson tips of his ears. Honesty leaving your lips soon after.

"I think you're both handsome, as does a majority of the school body. See you Miya-san and Miy—"

"Call me Atsumu!"

"See you in class, Atsumu." You actually looked back this time, an unfamiliar and unexpected feeling flourishing within you.

———

Part of you wandered if it’d be different this time, maybe you’d found someone who was there for you and not Sachiko. Just this once. You’d spoken more in class, studied together, traded snacks, and genuinely became friends over the course of two months.

Ironically it was the same blonde who tugged you from your reverie at the your locker where you’d first spoken.

"Yer friends with Sachiko aren't ya?"

This was it, the moment you realised he was just like all others and for the first time in a long while, you were truly disappointed.

"Yes I am, and she is amazing."

"I'm aware, could ya introduce me?" He’d spoked so casually, completely unawares of the charade you donned.

"What? Too scared to introduce yourself?" Atsumu was taken aback by your mockery, smirk growing as you persisted. "She doesn't bite y'know, that's my job."

This was the second time you'd left him speechless, slamming your locker door and disappearing into the halls with a wave.

From then on you'd see them happily talking to one another, it was hard seeing them together, amusing considering you'd only known the blonde not even half the year, yet you'd liked him more than you considered possible.

The first time you'd walked into the classroom finding the pair conversing at her desk, it was like Atsumu was desperately trying to convince her of something. It was only for a brief moment but when the setter turned to see you with a suddenly concerned look, you realised you hadn't worn a facade. You were meant to smile, instead you must've looked saddened - briskly you offered a weak smirk, and span to leave the room with additional flare as to minimise suspicion.

You’d only made it three steps down the hallway when a grasp on your wrist limited your escape.

"Hey you okay?"

"Yes? Why wouldn't I be?" Came your upbeat response, even if he portrayed a careful worrisome look on his handsome features.

"Ya... ya looked upset."

"Really? Are you sure?"

"I'm observant y'know, gotta be fer volleyball so yeah, I noticed your little slip." He was more forward this time, gesturing to you with a tilt of his head - even if he was head over heels for Sacchan, at least he still genuinely cared about you.

"It's nothing, just realised I've got a test today and that's depressing enough." You thought it was acceptably convincing, though the calculating gaze he'd locked onto yours made you reconsider.

“(Y/n) I know I can be annoyin’ but I’ll do anything I can to help y—“

“I’m fine.” You instantly corrected, reaffirmation following. “I’m fine, Atsumu.”

A gentle pat on his chest told him not to worry, and the nod you gave said you wanted to be alone. So, he let you walk away, your wrist slipping from his grip.

———

Even weirder than the smitten pair hanging out was that your conversations with Sachiko seemed to revolve around him too. Which by your deductions, meant he’d certainly made more of an impression on her than anyone else recently. Maybe Atsumu really had a shot with her…

"Atsumu is so hot isn't he?"

"I guess he keeps in shape, he has to if he wants to improve his skills."

"Uh yes... his hair suits him though, brings out the colour of his eyes~" She gleamed, searching for your reaction and once more her face dramatically dropped at the deadpan reply.

"Makes him easier to differentiate from Osamu."

"True, but I'm asking if you find him attractive?!" Her impatience had gotten the better of her, voice raised slightly out of desperation.

"Isn't that a question you should ask yourself? I haven't heard you go on about a boy this much since middle school." You quipped, raising a quizzical brow at her.

"It's not like th—"

"Oh hey! Sachiko, (Y/n), you wanna come to practice today?" Atsumus’ hollering tone interrupted the conversation, the blonde strolling into your classroom like he belonged there.

"Yes, we'd love to." Sachiko of course was ecstatic to agree, why would she say no since he’s ’so attractive’. Yourself on the other hand had replicated the Thor meme perfectly…

"Would we though?"

"Yeah ya would! C'mon~" You hadn't the chance to protest further when Atsumus' hands clamped your shoulders steering you in the direction of the gymnasium with a giggling Sachiko skipping behind.

———

When Atsumu had asked you to meet him after school before practice started toward the end of the year, you expected something food related or about homework answers, not whatever this was.

Here he stood, flowers in hand and apparently a homemade bento box offered to you with a growing blush painting his handsome features and an aura of flustering about him which was unusual in itself.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm— isn't it obvious?!"

"I have literally no idea what's going through your thick skull, Sachiko will like the flowers though." You answered honestly, crossing your arms.

"They're not for her!"

"Oh... Suna...?"

Atsumus brows furrowed at your wit, shaking his head with a huff.

"Alright ya got me, they're for Sachiko. Yer gonna deliver them since yer her best friend. Thanks and make sure ya eat some of the bento 'cuz there's stuff yer will like in it. Later!" He basically threw the flowers at you and pushed the bento box into your chest prior to storming toward the exit.

You stood dumbfounded, flicking between the two items when he placed his forehead against the door with a defeated sigh and spun on his heel.

“Go! Go on, the team are here and I don’t want ya getting hit with a face full of leather and petals.” He’d stubbornly commented, ushering you out of the gym.

Still, you shouldered your sadness, wearing false confidence like your favourite outfit as you went to find your friend (completely oblivious to the embarrassed mess whining to his teammates inside).

Sachiko squealed when she saw you, leaving her work unattended and rushing to your side admiring your haul.

"It finally happened! Oh my goodness!"

"Yeah yeah, blondie came through congratulations." You boredly spoke, placing the items down whilst she basically vibrated with pure joy.

"Congratulations indeed! Are you happy?"

"Eh. He did say we should share the lunch."

"That's... weird?" Sachikos’ prior energy disappeared as she looked to you in confusion.

"I know, that's what I thought. Apparently there's things I like in it."

"Well obviously. Atsumu made it for you."

"No, he made it for you."

A moment of silence passed, yourself and Sachiko locked in a puzzled stare off.

"Nah, let's be honest, Osamu probably made it~" You dismissively waved your hand once placing the items on her desk, although it was only you who found humour in the situation.

"No (Y/n) I'm serious! Atsumu has been asking me about you and your preferences for months and I've been super excited about it. He even wanted me to find out if you liked him or not —of course IF I found out, I would've kept it to myself— but he really likes you."

"I thought he was into you, I mean everyone is into you." You adamantly justified, as if it explained everything but Sachiko was just as passionate.

"Not him, why do you think he keeps asking you to practices or bugging you every 5 minutes?"

"To get close to you? I don't know."

"No! To get close to you!"

Widened eyes and a look of pure shock told Sachiko her words had finally resonated with you, the truth burned brightly and she could only smile as you ran.

Abandoned were the flowers as you dashed through the halls and came to a skidding halt before the gymnasium - fingertips hesitantly pausing against the door upon hearing Atsumus' cursing whines.

"I didn't even get to say! They just ran off to Sachiko!"

“Ya literally said ‘Go’.” Osamus voice maybe?

“Yeah well, I don’t ever wanna walk away from (Y/n), but it feels like they’re always walking away from me…” Atsumu trailed off, more emotion than you thought lacing his words.

"Maybe ya shouldn't have lied?" That was definitely Arans’ blunt advisory tone.

"I had no choice! They were lookin' at me with their stupid pretty eyes and askin' if it was for Sacchan and I didn't wanna disappoint 'em."

"Yer an idiot." Osamu gladly highlighted, the perfect moment to walk in and make your presence known you decided.

"I know! But—"

"Atsumu?" At the sound of your call, the entity of the team turned in your direction, the setter being the first to respond.

"Huh?! (Y/n) what are you doing here?"

Osamu and the rest of Inarizaki seemed to understand the underlying tension and were quick to evacuate the area.

"I came to tell you that Sachiko liked the flowers." You awkwardly started, Atsumu running fingers through his hair with a quiet voice.

"Oh, right."

"As did I, and I think I'd like to get you something in return."

"Eh?"

"She told me what was going on." You filled in, hands behind your back fiddling with your fingers.

"She's lying! I do not like you at all, let alone find you attractive or anything!"

Much like you predicted, he'd jumped to conclusions and had inadvertently dropped himself in it and exposed the truth Sachiko had enclosed which earned your witty reply.

"Funny, I never mentioned anything about liking me. That’s good to know~"

"Wait— then what?" Atsumu defused, utterly confused and blushing.

"And it's a shame, I was about to confess my feelings for you but I see there's no need since you 'don't like me at all'." You shrugged haphazardly, a hint of sarcasm lacing your tone but it was your statement that revitalised his spark. Enough to abruptly skid in front of you with a commendable justification when you’d started to turn around.

"You still can, nothin' to lose and all that." A half smile was sent to you, hazel eyes meeting yours. “And please, don’t walk away from me this time.”

"I didn’t want— I mean I—“ A wistful sigh escaped you, confession imminent. “I really like you Atsumu, you're both an incredible player and a cool person so I’m glad I got to tell you that.”

“I like ya too (Y/n)! So much, and I feel more confident playing when ya come and watch. Yer smile really hypes me up y’know. If yer up for it, I’d love to spend more time with ya.”

"Yeah, I’d like that."

—

That evening, he’d offered to walk you home and there was still one thing you wanted to say after all that.

“Hey Atsumu?” A hum signified his attention. “Thank you for noticing me."

"Noticing ya?"

"Yeah, I just… I appreciate it."

"No I mean, noticing ya? I haven't noticed anyone else since I met ya."

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[ Masterlist ]

[s0dium]

PEEPING TOM

A/n: Its good to be back, I also will be doing kink tober! Yay!

Synopsis: In which you find a peephole in your wall, allowing you to spy on your neighbor Gojo Satoru

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Peeping Tom, mutual masturbation, masturbation, slight dub-con, cervix fucking, unprotected sex, breeding, Dom!Gojo, fingering, rough sex

MINORS DNI

~

The first time it happened, it was an accident.

It was day numero uno in your new dorm at Tokyo Jujutsu High. You were hesitant at first enrolling, being suddenly uprooted from an overall normal life into a world of curses and sorcerers was a, well, definitely a shocking experience for you. In fact, today was a boring blur for you, by the time you were done moving in it was nightfall and the only people you met were principle yaga and an old guy.

So you didn't expect the most exciting part of your day would be finding a peep hole right at eye view of you when you sat up on your bed. 

Of course you pay no attention to it, this was a pretty old Japanese building after all. It was when you were searching up what the hell “spackle was” when you heard a loud “FUCK” coming from the other side of the wall. 

Well that's interesting.

You know it's wrong, you wouldn't want peering in on you. But curiosity got the better of you as you sat down on your bed and aligned your eye with the hole. 

From what you could see, your nameless neighbors room was pretty neat, but your mind went completely blank when a set of abs came into your vision, followed by the side profile of one of the most handsome white haired man you had ever seen.

So yeah, the first time you peeped on your neighbor was a mistake. 

The second time. Not so much. 

~

"Hey! My name is y/n l/n im your neighbor"

Piercing blue eyes look you up and down and your breath catches in your throat. His eyes, framed by a shock of defiantly white hair, hold a mysterious depth that seems to invite you into an endless ocean of secrets. They twinkle with a mischievous glint.  His lips, full and inviting, flash you a devilish smile that hints at an irreverent sense of humor. The white hair man leans on the door frame.

“Ahh so your the new girl”

You gulp, trying to keep your eyes from raking over his well built body that were sporting sweat pants that rode just slightly low on his hips and a black shirt that exposed the tone muscles of his arms. 

Lawd have mercy, we must stay focused, we must stay focused. 

"Yeah uh, I just wanted to get your name, you know, since we are gonna be neighbors and all….." You trail off at the end, fiddling with the ends of your uniform skirt.

You can feel his eyes bore into your head as you averted his gaze. He chuckles and blows out air from his nose in amusement.

“Gojo satoru. You can call me Satoru, since you know, we are going to be neighbors and all” He almost coos mockingly.

You nod and hold out your hand.

“Nice to meet you Satoru.”

~

For the next two weeks you find yourself slowly adjusting into your new life. You spend most of your time either training or hanging out with your new friend Shoko, since you are deemed ‘too new’ for any missions which is fine by you. During this your interactions and conversations with Gojo are kept rather short. You laugh at the jokes he and Geto come up with during class, roll your eyes at the snarky comments he makes about how ‘new’ you are, and occasionally even give him a smile in the hall. But for some reason you can't seem to get him out of your head; your eyes often wandering to stare at the back of his white hair during lessons, watching how his long digits gracefully twirl a pencil around, finding yourself wondering what else he can do with those fingers.

And it is for those very reasons you find yourself lying in your bed, unable to sleep.

Huffing, you sat up in your bed and turned on the light on your night stand. As you leaned toward the wall to grab your phone, that’s when you heard it. 

A faint groan. 

….

You shouldn’t.

It's wrong. You already peeped once, and that’s enough. 

But god, curiosity is killing you right now. It was eating away at your brain like termites and you couldn’t seem to let the question go. 

So you made a promise. One look. One final quick last look and that would be it. 

Oh how curiosity killed the cat. 

The moment your eye was aligned with the hole, your mind went blank and in front of you was a sight ever to behold.

There on white bed sheets was Gojo, shirtless, sweatpants slightly lowered furiously fisting his dick. For a couple seconds, you couldn't seem to take your eyes off of him; how beautiful he looked with his head thrown back, the glide of his hand up and down his long dick and how the top of his fist captured his redish pink tip with every thrust. 

Once the initial shock was over you immediately pulled away, hand covering your mouth to silence your gasp. You should've never looked, never crossed the threshold between curiosity and invasion of privacy. But as you move away to go back to sleep and forget all about this, you wince.

Oh no.

An all too familiar ache has started to form between your thighs and you felt your stomach twist into knots and form into a million butterflies. Frantically, you pull down your short, silently cursing when your eyes are met with a small damp stain at the base of your underwear. 

This couldn't be happening. Quickly you crawled back under your covers and turned off the lights, praying that the feeling would go away. Surprise surprise, it didnt. 

Biting your lip, you grabbed a pillow and placed it between your legs, squeezing your thighs together. A couple seconds later without realizing it you had started to slowly roll your hips on the soft object, desperately seeking some way to alleviate your pain. 

But it seemed like that only made things worse. 

Your skin was buzzing, and your breaths had turned deep and heavy. The slick accumulating in your cunt has started to become borderline uncomfortable and the twisting in your stomach didnt seem to cease. You needed release. 

One more look. One more look than one orgasm and thats it. 

Frantically you crawled back to the small hole, letting out a soft whimper when you're met with the sight again. This time his eyes were squeezed shut, and white substance filled the space between his fingers as he hurriedly fisted himself. Without even thinking, you slipped a hand under your underwear and letting out a sigh of relief when your index finger came in contact with your clit. 

Quick, you'd make this quick.

Using your wetness, you began to circle your finger around the nerve, falling into a slow rythm. You tried your best to cover the wet clicking sounds coming from your ministrations, but after a couple minutes you couldnt see to care any more. You let your mind drift to thoughts of Satoru. How would he look above you, sweaty and in euphoria? Oh you bet his dick would feel so good inside of you, fill you up and hit all the right places. Fuck it you'd probably let him cum in you, spill his seed in your cunt and fill you up over and over again.

Your movements had become frantic now as you desperately chased your orgasm and from what you could tell it seemed like he was getting close too. You had to cover your mouth with your hand to suppress the moans and your thighs started to tremble as you got closer to finishing. Suddenly, your stomach dipped and tightened as a surge of mind numbing pleasure took over you, your eyes rolling to the back of your head and mouth falling agape. 

After a couple seconds passed, you were left panting and you dazedly glanced back through the hole to find that Satrou had also finished; white streams of cum painting his toned stomach and fist. 

You blink back the euphoria that slowly escaped your brain.

Ok. Never again. 

~

That was a lie. 

You started to pick up the fact that Gojo had a routine. He’d jack off once in the morning and once at night, and boy, where the sounds impossible to ignore. So, you started to fall into this routine with Gojo. On cue, when you heard his shaky breath and silent whimpers, your hand would automatically slip into your pants, circling around your wetness to the sound of his shaky sighs. On the days you slept through the ones in the morning and missed it as night as well, you’d touch yourself on your own time, cumming over and over again to the thought of Gojo pumping his thick cock in and out of you. 

You didn't know what the end goal was to this and hell you knew it was wrong. But the pleasure was too overwhelming, the sound of Gojo was too overwhelming, too damn compelling.

So here you were again, another night laying next to the peep hole, hand down your pants intently listening to the fast pap pap pap that came from the other side of the way. 

But something was different tonight. Your skin felt like it was on fire. Your walls pulsed and squeezed around nothing with every light rub for your clit. This was becoming dangerous, the pleasure was becoming too much, the thought of gojo fucking you was becoming too much. 

You let out a whine that comes out louder than expected but you can't seem to care. You dig your ass into the mattress and arch your back slightly. You're not thinking of your fingers as your own right no, no, they are Gojo’s long pale ones rubbing fast circles on your throbbing clit. His name falls from your mouth like a silent plea over and over, begging him to fuck you. You're so engrossed in the pleasure that it took you 20 seconds to fully realize that the sounds on the other side of the wall had stopped. Confused, you align your eye with the peep hole and a gasp rips out of your throat.

Instead of finding Gojo’s body layed out your met with the sight of another eye. A blue eye. Staring right back at you. 

You pull away from the wall and cover your mouth. Before you can even process a thought your door swings open and in steps the last person you wanted to see.

"You've been peeping on me." Gojo coos, a shit eating grin spread on his face. Hes disheveled, white hair tousled, black tank top slightly riding up and grey sweat pants riding down showing his white happy trail. But most notable was his hard dick pressing against the fabric of his pants, a slight stain adorning the material right where the tip is. 

"You've been peeping on me!!!" You stammer, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“Oh really? Is that the best defense you’ve got?” Gojo chuckles and rakes a hand through his white hair, taking a few steps closer to your bed.

“What are you doing? Get out!”

“Oh? Is that what you really want? You want me to leave?” Gojo is at the foot of your bed now, and your breathing becomes faster when he climbs on. “Because I can leave. I can leave and tell everyone what a little whore you’ve been, listening to me morning and night.”

“You-” You can't even finish your sentence because he's on top of you now, legs on either side of your body and you gaze up helplessly at him.

“Of course I noticed princess,why do you think I was doing it so much anyway?” He places his index under your face  and tilts your chin up so your lips align with his. “Loved hearing those whines…. Wanna hear more so badly” He murmurs before placing his lips onto yours. You sigh into the kiss, letting his warm tongue entangle into yours. He holds the back of your neck to deepen the kiss before peppering his lips along your jawline and your neck. A hand slips below your flimsy tank top and another pulls at the hem of your underwear. Before you know it your completely naked, your chest rising and falling and Gojos hungry eyes scan your body. 

He licks his lips.

“You gonna let me hear more?”

 You gasp when you feel a long finger slide down your slit connecting the wetness before dipping into your tight hole. Gojo leaned close to soothingly press dry lips to your temple. “Shh,” He whispered, the resulting puffs of air washing over the side of your face making you shake. “This your first time being touched like this baby?Or did you not know about this special little g-spot you’ve got right here?” 

Your toes curl when he touches a spot deep inside you that sends bolts of pleasure coursing through your brain. You don’t even notice that he’s pulling down his pants until he pulls his fingers away, a string of wetness connecting his digits with your pussy, and your eyes are met with the sight of his length.

You unconsciously buck your hips up at the sight of it, practically humping the air, and Gojo has to secure your hips down to the bed to prevent you from hurting yourself. You could hear your heart in your ears and adrenaline coursed through your veins at rocket fire speed. The need in between your legs was too much, it was clouding your head and twisting your stomach so tight you almost felt sick. You jolt when his fat tip bumps into your clit; collecting your juices before pressing against your quivering hole.

"Shhhh, we are going to have so much fun together baby.”

You're cut off by the feeling of his length spreading you so helplessly wide and his tip smashing against something which must be your cervix you think. It’s painful, but in the pain is so much pleasure. He presses his forehead against yours as he slides into you, gripping the sheets with his supporting hand as your hot, wet entrance swallows his cock. Instinctively, your cunt squeezed around the foreign intrusion, trying to push it out, making Gojo let oout a low groan of his own and pushing even deeper into you. 

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he said hoarsely.

“Satoru please-”

You dont get to finish the thought because Gojo pulls out and ram back into you with such fever everything goes blank for a second. His thrusts started out shallow and slow, testing the waters for how much he could get away with. What your limits were, and if you could fully take him for what he wanted. But that quickly changed to harsher thrusts, until he’s using you like his personal cock sleeve, shaping your insides and bruising your cervix until your entire body jolts with sensitivity.

Every thrust knocks the wind out of you, his tip smushing right against your cervix only to be pulled out and rammed back in again. And the sounds, god the sounds where sinful. Wet skin against skin echoed through the room the sloshing of cum 

 It was too much, the feeling of your wet gummy walls gripping him so tightly, fuck, his hand felt like sand paper compared to this, how was he able to fucking live without your pussy in the first place.  There was no way Gojo could stop now. His body had kicked into auto pilot, a primal need for you settled in as he thrusted in and out, creating a methodical fast rhythm that echoed in your ears. The sight of you right now, the feeling of your pussy clamped on his dick did not justice to the image his fucked his fist to. No, this was better, this was heaven.

“So good- don’t stop, please don’t stop!” your babbling strung out of your lips too absorbed in the thought of how god damn good he was fucking you, his thick cock driving in and out of your velvet walls. It was as if you were made for each other, your cunt sucking him in with each push and shove that hit at just the right spots.

“Say my name baby” he coos and an involuntary cry escapes your lips, a passionate fusion of pleasure and intensity. Amid the overwhelming waves of ecstasy that washed over you,  your mouth began to call out your boyfriend's name. Again and again.

“Beautiful girl, such a natural submissive” he whispered hoarsely. Your stomach coiled with anticipation, heat encircling your core like a tightening cord. Your senses tingled, your mind a haze of desire, all consuming thoughts centered around Gojos electrifying touch. You pressed back into him, arching off a second later and then your hips rocked down. Words became superfluous, you couldn't say anything, not with the way you were panting and twitching, so insanely close to your peak that you wouldn’t ruin it with your words.

“Do it,” Gojo said into your ear with conviction. “Wanna see you cum all over me, fu-fuck, been waiting for that.” 

His words seem to flip a switch in you. The heat on your stomach is unbearable, you can’t take it anymore, it’s consuming you, driving you over the edge so fast that you can’t put a stop on it. Your pussy tightens so hard around Gojos dick that he nearly has to stop his thrusts, your scream is muffled by a hand clamped over your mouth as you feel yourself splitting in two, coming with his cock buried deep inside you. Gojo doesnt stop, He fucks you hard into the futon; your eyes roll back, toes curling as waves of pleasure crash over you, your entire body trembles over his thrusts.

"Oh shit!" He gasps as your cunt clamps around him. He growls something unintelligible as his thrusts become erratic and sloppy. “"Gonna cum in you, gonna fill you up it's what you were made for- ah, fu-uck- cumming!" Gojo pressing him flush against you choking over his words as his hips sputter inside of you, hot cum fills you as much as you can hold inside of your stuffed cunny.

“Wa-wait! N-not ins-si-” You squeal but cut your self off when you feel something deliciously warm enter your battered pussy. You babbled and squirmed as it built and built and built, like there was a dam of his seed spurting into you. You unintentionally, probably instinctually, squeezed around him, drawing more out and he whined and murmured his praise. “Good girl, get as much as you can.” He petted circles over your stomach, over the bulge of where his cock and cum lay. “Such a pretty tummy….” You threw your face into your arms and shook.

The two of you stayed like that for a while–Gojo keeping you plugged with his cock while you both watched your breaths, listening to eachother and occasionally leaning in for a messy kiss.

“So, I guess we are both peeping toms then.”

A/N: Im too lazy to write an ending

[yogurtkags]

❝ HUSH ❞ — sakusa kiyoomi

cw. f!reader, fluff, olympics au, athletic trainer!reader, timeskip characters, established relationship, secret marriage, language (omi swears like once), not beta read (sorry!) word count. ~ 1.6k

“japan’s outside hitter sakusa kiyoomi and newly revealed wife, athletic trainer y/n l/n, steals the spotlight in the city of love!”

@tetzoro's summer olympics collab

your eyes glance in his direction, letting it linger on his figure as the team settles down into their corner. he’s a little tense, understandably so– it’s his first time at the olympics, and with the pressure of the finals sitting on his shoulders, the nerves are showing, though carefully hidden behind his standard resting face that you can see through so well. the lights hanging along the ceilings of the south paris arena cast a tasteful warm glow along the contours of his face. despite the subconscious clenched jaw and slightly downturned lips that make you want to kiss the frown off so badly, there’s a shine in his eyes like no other.

the last few days have been pretty rough, of stiff beds, subpar food and sleeping without kiyoomi. you know he feels the same if the progressively increasing frequency of late night calls and texts are any indication. with the boys sharing rooms in twos amongst themselves and the rest of the team’s staff being housed in a separate wing of the building, falling asleep in his arms was a faraway thought since you arrived at the olympic village.

loml ♡ : miya snores so fuckin’ loudly i can’t handle this me : well it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve dealt with it baby loml ♡ : i still think we should’ve fought harder for us sharing a room

he drifts off into slumber easily after washing up and getting his fill of talking to you (never enough), the mental and physical fatigue of matches and practices in between taking a toll on his body, but for you, being wrapped in his warm embrace was the perfect recipe and vital to a good night's sleep. it’s safe to say that you haven’t been sleeping well for the past week.

it didn’t help that being sworn to secrecy about your relationship also meant that any interactions you had with him outside being the team’s athletic trainer was like treading on eggshells. it feels like you’re in high school again, sitting next to him in the dining hall during meal times with your clasped hands hidden under the table from watchful eyes, his thumb rubbing soft circles against the back of your hand or squeezing ever so often, as if to affirm his presence and silently reassure that i’m here.

it seems to be a trend lately for athletes to be active on their social media platforms, be it their team’s or just a personal account, recounting stories or even taking avid viewers through “a day in the life of an olympic athlete” — without looking too far, even miya jumped on the bandwagon, often seeing suna running around filming short clips of their shenanigans in free pockets of time during the day. you and kiyoomi talked about it before the season began, keeping any non-professional interactions to a minimum. there’s eyes everywhere and it’s better to be safe than sorry.

both of you are very private people, it was only natural that you preferred to keep your personal life and matters to yourselves behind closed doors. this ended up being a double-edged sword, because everyone wants to be all up in your business, especially kiyoomi who finds himself in the spotlight more often, being apart of the “young handsome eligible bachelors” of the MSBY 4 and now one of the most sought-after new additions to japan’s national team.

you on the other hand, were better known by twitter as “the pretty trainer” from the shweiden adlers and now the national team, standing next to another fan-favourite, iwaizumi hajime. thankfully your role is kept more so behind the scenes, checking on the players during games and making sure they remain in tip-top shape on and off the court.

being the quiet and brooding one amongst outgoing chatterboxes meant that the media would try to dig any information out of kiyoomi, but prying interviewers and prodding questions towards him and his love life were smoothly deflected and brushed aside, the boys even coming to his defense if anyone got too pushy with it, which you were beyond thankful for. not that they needed to most of the time, he’s known to be curt with his responses and quick to bring the topic back to the game, and no one likes a snappy sakusa anyway, many have learned this the hard way.

just months prior to the both of you getting called in to begin training for the olympics and before schedules start to pick up, you had a small private wedding in your hometown with just close friends and family, the ceremony kept under lock and key and tucked away from the public eye. it made it all the more intimate, more like a quiet gathering to celebrate your union than a grand spectacle, which suited you perfectly. the honeymoon hasn’t happened yet with the timing of everything, you’re saving it for post-season when you both can finally take a break and relax for a little while.

you won’t deny that there are some days where you wished that things were different, and that you could openly express your love for each other without scrutiny and attention being on you, but alas, that is to be expected as someone exposed to the public eye.

the olympics is your first public appearance as married individuals, not that anyone particularly cares about your status, their eyes instead zeroing in on kiyoomi and the chain around his neck carrying a shiny new silver band. it's safe to say that judging by the scowl on his face and the chatter buzzing around the front rows of stands as the team settles into their side of the court, his “mystery wife" is the new talk of the town.

when he comes over to you during timeout, his eyes meet yours bashfully as you hand him a bottle, fingers brushing against yours in an unspoken apology. you just smile and lightly pat his back as he turns to join the team huddle. there’s nothing to be sorry for, silly.

these little moments mean everything to you, even though it looks like nothing in the grand scheme of things. just being there with him and coming together with a shared passion even if it's in different fields of the broader spectrum of sport, fills you with a sense of happiness and content. watching him in his element and being able to support him on the sidelines through it all, you'd never trade that for the world.

and as you’re sitting at the edge of your seat with your bum hanging on for dear life, you lean forward with your hands pressed together, the top of your index fingers resting against the tip of your nose like a pseudo prayer. match point.

it feels like you’re watching the longest rally of your life and like a bad habit, your knee begins bouncing up and down in your nervousness and anticipation. iwaizumi too, is so engrossed in the play at hand that he doesn’t notice, or maybe he just doesn’t care enough in this moment to stop you with his usual slap to your thigh and a chiding comment, “stop it, even my grandma back in sendai can feel the tremours from your goddamn knees.”

with bated breath, you watch kageyama tosses one beautiful arc of a set to kiyoomi as he leaps into the air and makes contact with the ball.

with a powerful spike, he is a force to be reckoned with, sending the ball home as the opponents dive to save it, their arms hands and fingers stretching out in a last ditch attempt to connect and rescue the point, but to no avail. the ball lands with a harsh thud and as he stands tall above their groveling, the whistle blows and the crowds roar.

your arms instinctively raise in a cheer, and in the next moment they’re closed over your mouth, tears pricking your eyes as you stumble over your feet and scramble to get up. as the team rushes towards him with shouts of celebration, his eyes immediately dart in your direction, softening as he sees you dashing over. with knowing smirks and crescent moons for eyes, the boys follow his line of sight and give him firm slaps on the back, parting the hoard for you and giving just enough room for him to uncharacteristically swoop you up in his arms and crash his lips into yours, all caution thrown to the wind.

all the noise halts and time stands still, everything fades away and nothing else in the world matters in the moment, not the people, not the cameras, just the overwhelming rush of joy and pride, and love, oh love, swelling from the depths of your chest and your heart bursting at its seams.

your senses flood with everything kiyoomi, from the way the sweaty strands of his hair at the back of his neck feel on your fingertips, his cheeks dampening from your tears, the nudge of his nose against yours, and the press of his smile on your locked lips. he breathes out and you breathe him in, letting all of his being rest in the room in your heart saved specially for him, seeping into every corner of your soul.

when you inevitably pull apart for air, the current predicament doesn't exactly click in your mind just yet until he grabs your hand and pulls you into his side, shielding you from the onslaught of reporters and press looking to get a fresh scoop on the hottest piece of news. with blown out eyes, you look at him in a daze and disbelief, did that really just happen?

the smug smirk on his face says it all.

the matching silver bands on your finger and hanging around his neck, it was always there. for the longest time it was your little secret, and now a declaration of love and devotion — not even a shiny new gold medal could compare.

© yogurtkags. please do not repost, plagiarise, or translate my work.