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lowaltitude · 2 months ago

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Forsaken | Anakin Skywalker

- Star Wars AU - x Reader

❪ FEM! ❫

───── ❝ description + disclaimer ❞ ─────

𖥻 Anakin Skywalker x FEM!reader, in which the war is ongoing. You've been summoned back after years away—by Obi-Wan... 𖥻 ideological clash, the Force philosophy, emotional tension, and the “torn between two truths” weight on your shoulders 𖥻 6K WORDS. slight cringe? unintentionally seems like a love triangle. flashbacks. PART ONE Altitude

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

You are a Force-sensitive diplomat and former Padawan who left the Jedi Order years ago due to ideological differences, but you’ve maintained deep connections to both Anakin and Obi-Wan. You're now a neutral mediator between the Republic and outer-rim systems, respected by both the Senate and the Jedi, but distrusted for your independence. You share a long, unresolved romantic history with Anakin, and a deep emotional bond with Obi-Wan—as a former mentor, perhaps even something more complicated. Your presence becomes a catalyst for their divergence.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The Jedi Temple hadn't changed—but I had.

My boots echoed down the marbled halls like a ghost returning to a place I once called home. Golden light filtered in through the high windows, catching the motes of dust and ash that never seemed to settle anymore. The air smelled of incense and scorched metal. I paused at the threshold of the briefing chamber, my hand resting lightly on my belt. The door hissed open with a soft hydraulic sigh.

And there he was.

Obi-Wan Kenobi stood with his back to me, hands folded behind him, eyes fixed on the Coruscant skyline. The fading sun outlined him in pale fire, but his silhouette was sharp—too sharp.

"You came," he said softly, not turning.

"I always do," I replied, voice steady. I wasn’t sure if it was a lie.

He finally turned to face me. There were new lines around his eyes. Older. Tired. But deeper than that—a weight. Something heavy sat on his shoulders that the Jedi robes couldn’t hide. He took a step forward, then stopped, as if unsure whether to approach or retreat. I didn’t move.

"The Council trusts your neutrality," he said. "They believe you'll give me a chance to explain myself before they condemn me."

"I’m not here on the Council’s behalf." I held his gaze. "I’m here for you."

That got to him. His composure cracked just slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching into something that might’ve been relief—or regret.

"They fear what I’ve become, Y/N. But the truth is—they made me this."

I studied him carefully. The way his voice lowered when he said it. Like it was sacred. Or dangerous.

"You're not here to explain yourself," I said. "You're here to see if I believe you."

"Do you?"

I didn’t answer. Because the door behind me opened again—and the Force shivered like lightning on water.

"Y/N?"

I turned, heart seizing. Anakin Skywalker stood in the doorway. His presence filled the room instantly—burning, unfiltered, alive. His golden saber hilt glinted at his hip, and his expression—when he saw me—softened like dawn breaking across a battlefield.

"You didn’t tell me she was here," he said, eyes narrowing at Obi-Wan.

"I wanted to speak with her before your emotions clouded the moment," Obi-Wan replied coolly. The tension between them was electric. The sun outside had turned blood-orange, casting shadows like battle scars across the floor. I stepped between them.

"Is this what it’s come to? You call me back, and I walk into a storm?"

"You're the only one left who sees both sides," Anakin said, jaw tight. "That makes you the most dangerous person in this Temple."

"Or the only one who can stop this before it starts."

Silence fell. The war hadn't reached the Temple walls yet. But in that moment, I realized: The real war was already here. And I was standing at its heart.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I needed air.

The Temple was suffocating—so full of ghosts I hadn’t made peace with. I slipped away to the high garden terrace, a place I used to escape to during training sessions I hated, lessons I questioned, dreams I couldn't share.

Now the garden was quiet, lit only by the glow of distant city lights and the soft hum of security fields. Somewhere in the lower levels, speeders buzzed like insects. Above, stars blinked cold and unfeeling.

I leaned against the stone railing, arms folded, trying to breathe.

"I thought I'd find you here," said a voice behind me.

I turned slowly. Anakin stood just inside the archway, his robes rustling in the breeze. His gaze was intense—not angry, but charged. Like everything he wasn’t saying was pressing against the back of his throat.

"I used to think this place was peaceful," I said, forcing a small smile. "Now it just feels... far away from everything that matters."

He stepped forward, slowly.

"You always did run to the highest places when things got complicated," he said. "I guess I hoped you'd run to me this time."

I looked away.

"That was a long time ago, Anakin."

"But not long enough that I forgot," he said quietly.

Silence stretched between us. I could hear his breath—shaky, barely restrained.

"You left," he said, finally. "And I tried to understand why. The Order, the rules, the way they looked at you like you were dangerous just for feeling something—"

"I left because it was killing me to stay," I interrupted. "Because if I stayed, I would’ve ended up like Obi-Wan. Drowning in loyalty to something that no longer believed in its own values."

He closed the distance between us in two steps. "And yet you're here again."

"Because you’re still here." That stopped him. I felt his hand brush mine—hesitant at first. Testing if I would pull away. I didn’t.

"I don’t know what’s happening to him," Anakin whispered. "Obi-Wan’s not just doubting the Council anymore. He’s... angry. Secretive. He talks like the Jedi are the problem, not the solution."

"And you’re afraid he’s right?"

He looked at me then, and it hit me—how exhausted he was. How much of his light he’d burned trying to hold everything together. "No," he said. "I’m afraid I’ll lose him before I can bring him back."

I nodded slowly, heart aching. "You won’t. Not if he still remembers what it means to care."

He was quiet for a long time. Then—his voice barely above a whisper—"Do you still remember?"

I turned toward him, really looking at him now. The scars. The wear in his voice. The man shaped by war, by love denied, by choices he was never allowed to make freely.

"Every day," I said.

And when he kissed me—it wasn’t rushed or reckless

It was like he’d been waiting. Like every emotion he couldn’t name during the war, every lingering glance across a battlefield, every moment of silence between us had been leading here. His hand slid to the side of my face, fingers threading into my hair, pulling me in like I was the only thing anchoring him to the present. And for that one impossible second, I let myself believe that maybe... maybe it was enough. That we were enough.

But then he pulled back. Breathless. Brow furrowed. Like he’d just stepped over a line he wasn’t sure he could ever uncross.

"I shouldn’t have done that," he said, voice raw.

"But you did," I whispered, still too close.

The shadows danced across his face, flickering with the distant lights of the city. He looked haunted.

"I've made too many choices lately that weren't mine," he said. "Letting myself feel this... it’s dangerous."

"Maybe the danger isn’t in feeling it," I said. "Maybe it’s in pretending we don’t."

He searched my eyes like he was looking for a reason not to believe me. But then the comm clipped to his belt beeped—sharp, insistent.

His jaw clenched as he checked it.

"It's the Temple guard," he muttered. "Obi-Wan just left his quarters. Alone. No record of where he’s going."

My stomach twisted.

"Is he running?"

"Or setting something in motion," Anakin said. "Either way—we can’t wait for the Council."

I nodded. "Let’s go."

He started toward the exit—then paused. Looked back at me.

"When this is over," he said, softer now, "when all of this ends... I don’t want to pretend anymore."

"Then don’t," I said. "But you have to survive it first."

A flicker of a smile. Sad. Steady. "Then stay close."

And with that, we slipped into the night. Together.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I’d forgotten how cold Coruscant could get this deep down.

The industrial levels were always in twilight. Streetlamps flickered overhead, casting long shadows against duracrete walls stained with smoke and time. The people down here didn’t look at Jedi—they barely looked up at all. This was where the Republic ended and the real galaxy began.

Anakin moved beside me in silence, cloak pulled close, hood half-lowered. Even here, even now, his presence was impossible to ignore. The Force wrapped around him like a storm held just beneath the skin.

"Anything?" I asked, watching him scan the crowd with a soldier’s precision.

He shook his head. "No... but he’s close. I can feel him."

"Then why does it feel like he’s letting us find him?"

Anakin didn’t answer. We slipped down a narrow alley, steam hissing from rusted vents. Somewhere far above, sirens echoed faintly—too far to mean anything to us. Finally, he stopped. His hand went out to halt me.

"Here," he whispered. "This is it."

I followed his gaze—and felt it too. The Force rippled like heat off the durasteel ahead. Subtle. Familiar. Controlled.

Obi-Wan.

There was a figure waiting near an old droid foundry, partially cloaked in shadow. Hood up. Posture unmistakable. I stepped forward, but Anakin grabbed my wrist. Not hard. Just enough to remind me: we didn’t know who he was anymore. Obi-Wan turned as if he’d heard that thought.

"You took your time," he said calmly. "I expected the Council, not the two of you."

"You knew we’d come," I said, stepping ahead of Anakin now. "Don’t pretend this wasn’t part of the plan."

Obi-Wan pushed back his hood. I expected anger. Defensiveness. But what I saw was worse. Conviction.

"I hoped you would come," he said, eyes locking on mine. "You’re the only one who might understand."

"You’ve been sabotaging Republic campaigns. Disrupting supply lines. Lying to the Council. I want to understand, but you’re making it harder by the second."

Obi-Wan looked past me—at Anakin.

"And what about you, Anakin? Still clinging to the idea that the Jedi are saving anyone?" Anakin didn’t speak. His jaw was locked, fists clenched at his sides. Obi-Wan took a slow step forward.

"You think I’ve fallen. But maybe I’ve woken up. The war isn’t just killing us on the battlefield—it’s rotting us from the inside. We were never meant to be generals. We were meant to be guardians. Guides. Not weapons of the Senate."

"And what would you become instead?" I asked. "A blade in the dark? A shadow behind Palpatine’s throne?"

"I’d tear down the throne," he said, his voice sharp now. "The Republic is a lie. And I refuse to die for it."

My heart sank. "Then what do you want from us, Obi-Wan?"

He looked at me. "I want you to choose. I want you to see what’s coming. The Jedi won’t survive what’s next. But we might—if we let go of what we were." For a moment, everything fell quiet. No blasters. No politics. Just three people, standing on the edge of something enormous. Then Anakin stepped beside me, voice quiet but steady.

"We’re not here to choose sides."

I nodded. "We’re here to stop you before you burn everything down."

Obi-Wan’s eyes flicked between us. "So be it." And in a blur of motion, he ignited his saber—not blue.

Crimson.

My blood went cold. And the Force exploded around us.

The red glow from Obi-Wan’s saber bathed his face in bloodlight, but his eyes were clear. Steady. Certain. It wasn’t rage driving him. It was belief. And somehow, that made it worse.

“Step aside,” Obi-Wan said—low and even, like he wasn’t about to start a war. “I don’t want to fight you.”

"You ignited that saber," Anakin said coldly. “You made it a fight.”

“I did what I had to.” Obi-Wan’s eyes flicked to me. “The Jedi serve a corrupt Senate. I serve the will of the Force, not bureaucracy.”

"The Force doesn’t ask for obedience through fear," Anakin snapped, stepping in front of me now. “You sound like Dooku.”

“I sound like Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan said sharply, voice cracking. “He saw the cracks before any of us did. He died for his clarity. And now you're both making the same mistake I did—trusting an institution that feeds the machine of war.”

“You think we don’t see it?” I said quietly, stepping around Anakin. “We’ve lived the cost. But if the Jedi are flawed, let’s fix them. Not burn them to ash.”

Obi-Wan turned to me fully, and there was something in his gaze I hadn’t seen before.

Hope.

“You still understand,” he said. “You’ve always been different. That’s why they never trusted you. You feel more than they’re willing to. That’s not weakness—it’s what the Jedi were meant to be.”

He held out a hand to me. His saber stayed lit.

“You don’t belong in their council chambers and committees. You belong with me. Help me rebuild something better. Something true.”

My chest tightened. And for a second—just a second—I remembered being his Padawan. The first time I disobeyed the Code and he didn’t reprimand me, just smiled like he was proud. The night he told me I didn’t need to be perfect—only present.

I remembered safety. But I also remembered him walking away. The coldness that had grown where warmth used to be. The silence.

I looked at his hand. Then at Anakin.

“Is this what you meant to do?” I asked. “Bring us here to choose? Is this a battle or a recruitment pitch?”

Obi-Wan’s hand lowered. “Maybe both.”

I didn’t move.

And neither did Anakin. “I asked the Council to appoint you,” he said suddenly, without looking at me. “Before this.”

I turned, stunned. “You—what?”

“I wanted you on the Council. To have a voice. A vote. I thought if anyone could keep us honest, it was you.”

“Anakin—”

“But now you’re standing between us. And I don’t know if you’re the one who keeps us from falling apart—” his voice broke slightly, “—or the one we’ll shatter against.”

My breath caught. The air vibrated. The Force was screaming now—pulling in every direction. And then Obi-Wan moved.

His blade swung in a precise arc—not at me, not at Anakin, but between us. A warning. A line drawn.

Anakin ignited his saber instantly—blue clashing with red in a sudden burst of light and fury. Sparks flew. Metal groaned. The ground beneath us shuddered as Force waves collided in invisible shockwaves.

I staggered back—watching them move. And for a moment... I couldn’t tell who was winning.

They knew each other’s styles too well. Obi-Wan’s discipline against Anakin’s raw power. Fluidity against fire. Flash. A strike aimed at the heart—deflected. Flash. A kick, a leap, a force push that sent Anakin into a broken pillar.

Obi-Wan turned to me. “You can still walk away,” he said, breathing hard. “Before this war consumes both of us.”

“I already chose,” I said.

And I drew my saber.

Not for politics.

Not for the Council.

But for the truth they were both too blinded to see alone.

I stepped forward, blade raised— But before I could strike, a column buckled nearby. The catwalk overhead groaned. An unseen push—maybe from Obi-Wan, maybe from the Force itself—crashed into me like a wave.

My feet left the ground. For a second, all I saw was light and flame—Then the sound: a concussive boom as the ceiling above ruptured. Debris collapsed between us. Dust swallowed the air. I hit the ground hard, my saber skidding out of reach, my ribs burning. When the smoke cleared, I was alone on the lower level.

Cut off.

And he was there.

Obi-Wan.

Closer than I thought. Too close.

He didn’t strike. He just stood there, breathing hard, cloak torn, eyes rimmed with pain and fury and something far, far sadder. "You shouldn’t be here," he said.

"I’m exactly where I need to be."

He didn’t raise his weapon. Instead, he lowered it. Powered it down. The red hissed out like dying breath. And in that sudden quiet, my heart thudded loud in my chest. He looked at me—not like an enemy. Like a memory.

“You don’t have to follow him,” he said, voice hoarse. “He’s changing, and you know it.”

"So are you," I whispered.

"I changed because I had to. Because I saw what the Jedi were becoming—what they were making us become. Soldiers. Enforcers. Blind." He stepped closer, slow. “The Council never saw you. Not the way I did. Not the way I do. You were always too passionate, too bold. They feared that.”

I swallowed hard. “They didn’t fear me. They feared losing control.”

He smiled faintly. “Exactly. And now you have a choice.”

He reached for me—not for my weapon, not to attack. Just reached. Open palm. “I’m not asking you to betray him. I’m asking you to save yourself. Before the Council drags you down with them. Before he does.”

I should’ve stepped back.

But I didn’t.

Because I remembered the way he used to stand in the rain after missions, eyes to the sky like he was waiting for the Force to speak. I remembered how gently he corrected me, how deeply he listened when I doubted myself. How he believed I was destined for something more.

And maybe that was the worst part.

He still believed it.

“I know you feel it,” he said softly. “The weight. The rot inside the Republic. You were never meant to fight their wars.”

"And what were we meant for, Obi-Wan?" I whispered.

He held my gaze.

“To guide. To protect. To become something new. With me.”

The tears stung before I even realized they were there. My fingers curled tight around my saber. "You want me to walk away from him."

"I want you to walk toward yourself."

For a moment—I almost did.

Almost.

But then I felt it.

A flicker in the Force—Anakin. Hurt. Distant. Calling for me. And it hit me all at once—like oxygen flooding back into starving lungs. Not just the sound of him. The feeling of him. Fire and loyalty and heartbreak and hope—hope that I would choose us.

I looked at Obi-Wan.

And I stepped back. “I’m sorry,” I said. My voice cracked. “But I already have.”

His expression shattered. Just for a second.

Then—

A whisper of wind as his saber reignited. Crimson, glowing, blinding in the dark. “I won’t hold back next time,” he said quietly.

"I’m not asking you to."

And I turned—

And ran.

Back toward the fire.

Back toward Anakin.

The corridors were half-collapsed. Lights flickered. Metal hissed where fire still licked at broken beams. My boots slipped on ash.

“Anakin—” I shouted, voice cracking. No answer.

I pushed deeper into the wreckage, coughing against the smoke. The Force swirled around me in waves—grief, rage, desperation. And then—

I felt him. I didn’t see him first. I heard him—breathing. Shallow. Labored. I turned a corner.

And there he was.

Slumped against a fractured pillar, saber extinguished, eyes closed. Blood on his brow. Smoke curling around him like ghosts. His chest rose and fell in jagged pulls.

I ran to him, dropped to my knees. “Anakin—” My hands hovered uselessly over his chest, his shoulder, his face. “Hey. Hey.”

His eyes opened. And when they locked on mine—god, I nearly shattered.

“You came back,” he rasped.

“Of course I did.” My voice broke into a whisper. “You idiot.”

A shaky smile curved his lips. “Didn’t think you would.”

I stared at him. “Why?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at me like he wasn’t sure I was real. And then—

“I felt you hesitate,” he said, quiet. “When he offered you a way out.”

My heart stung. “I almost took it.”

“I know.”

I didn’t look away. I let him see the guilt in my face, the fracture lines that hadn’t healed. “But I didn’t. I chose you.” Silence stretched between us—thick, pulsing, raw. And then Anakin leaned forward, forehead resting against mine.

“I don’t deserve that,” he whispered. “Not after everything I’ve done.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” I said. “I do.”

He laughed—soft, broken. “We’re both a mess.”

“Yeah,” I breathed. “But we’re still here.”

His hand found mine.

Fingers laced.

And in that moment, surrounded by fire and failure and everything we couldn’t fix—I felt something like peace.

Not because it was over.

But because we hadn’t given up.

───── ❝.𖥔 ݁ ˖ flashback .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❞ ─────

The Temple gardens were quiet. Too quiet.

It was late. The war should’ve made everything feel sharper—louder—but somehow silence had become the most dangerous sound of all. Like something waiting to fall apart.

I found him there, sitting in the dark beneath the same tree we used to sneak off to as young Padawans. Legs drawn up, hands tangled in his own hair.

“Anakin?”

He didn’t look up. I sat beside him anyway.

He was shaking. “You don’t have to say anything,” I murmured.

And he didn’t. Not for a long time. Until he finally said—voice hollow—“They bombed the refugee convoy. I wasn’t fast enough.”

My stomach turned. I remembered that mission. Dozens dead. All civilian. No Republic forces nearby. No real reason.

“You weren’t the one who did it,” I whispered.

His jaw clenched. “No. But I could’ve stopped it. I sensed it. I knew. But I stayed. I followed orders. I waited for the Council’s confirmation instead of—” His voice cracked. “I waited. And they died.”

My breath caught. “That’s not on you.”

He turned then. Finally.

And his eyes—They weren’t angry. Not like I expected. They were numb.

“You don’t get it,” he said. “I’m done watching innocent people die while we debate ethics. While the Jedi twiddle their thumbs and hide behind codes that only make sense in a perfect galaxy. Which this isn’t.”

“Anakin—”

“I killed a senator last week.”

My heart stopped.

“What?”

His voice was ice. Detached. “A Separatist envoy. Caught him boarding a cruiser. He was unarmed. I could’ve arrested him. Turned him in. But I knew—if I did that, he’d be back out by morning. Hundreds more would die because of him. So I didn’t hesitate.”

I stared at him. Frozen.

“I just did what had to be done.”

I didn’t move. I couldn’t.

“You should say something,” he murmured, almost like a prayer.

But I couldn’t. Because I saw the cracks forming in him. The places the war had hollowed out. The fire curling where there used to be light. And I didn’t know how to fix it.

───── ❝.𖥔 ݁ ˖ end flashback .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❞ ─────

He’s staring at the floor now. Silent.

My fingers are still wrapped around his.

“You don’t get to decide if you deserve me,” I say softly. “You’re not perfect. You make mistakes.” A beat. “But you stopped when I asked you to.”

His eyes flick to mine.

“You looked me in the face, and you chose restraint, even when everything in you wanted to burn the galaxy down.”

His breath shudders out.

“You made the hardest choice,” I whisper. “You didn’t fall.” And maybe that’s why I’m still here. Maybe that’s why I ran through fire to get back to him.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The chamber felt colder than I remembered.

I stood in the center of the Council floor, wrapped in soot and smoke and someone else’s dried blood. The walls hummed softly. The city below blinked through the tall windows like stars too tired to shine.

Anakin was behind me—on his feet, but barely. A bandage at his temple, arm still stiff from the wreckage. I could feel him through the Force, like heat behind a wall. Simmering. Protective. Dangerous.

Mace Windu’s gaze was sharp as a blade. “You disobeyed orders,” he said flatly. “You interfered with a classified pursuit. And you endangered the life of a Council Master.”

“He wasn’t trying to arrest anyone,” I snapped, before I could stop myself. “He was trying to turn us against each other.”

Murmurs stirred. Ki-Adi’s brow furrowed. Plo Koon tilted his head.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi has always been a loyal servant of the Jedi Order,” Windu said. “He deserves the benefit of the doubt.”

“He’s not a servant anymore,” Anakin muttered behind me. “And maybe that’s the problem.”

Windu turned his gaze to him. “You’re lucky to be standing here at all.”

Anakin’s jaw tensed. I stepped closer to him—barely noticeable, but enough that he felt it. Enough that the Council saw. Yoda’s voice came quiet, grave. “Much emotion. Much fear. Around you both, it swirls.”

I swallowed hard. My voice didn’t shake.

“We didn’t ignite this war. But we’re the ones fighting it. Every day. Bleeding for it. Watching the people we care about slip away—because you want to pretend the system still works.”

“The system is all that stands between us and chaos,” Windu replied.

Anakin laughed. Soft. Bitter. “Chaos’s already here. You just can’t see it from your chairs.”

The silence that followed was heavy. That was when he said it. Low. Almost too low to hear. “I’ll leave.”

My head whipped toward him. “What?”

Anakin didn’t look at me. He stared straight ahead. “If you think it’s me that’s the problem… if you think the only way to keep her safe is for me to walk away—then fine. I’ll do it.”

My stomach dropped.

“You think that’s what I want?” I asked, breathless.

“I think it’s the only way they’ll stop coming after you.”

He turned to me then—and his eyes, Force, his eyes—

“I don’t care if they take my rank, my saber, my name. Just not you.”

I shook my head. “You’re not thinking clearly—”

“I am.” He stepped forward. Closer than he should’ve in front of the Council. “I’ve never been more clear.”

“I don’t want to be protected, Anakin. I want you. All of you. Even the part that makes bad choices.”

He reached for my hand. I let him.

Windu looked between us like he was deciding whether to draw his saber or deliver a sentence.

And then Yoda said, quietly, “Both of you. Time… you must take. Before judgment is passed.”

Reluctantly, Windu gave a tight nod. “Dismissed. For now.”

Outside the Council Chamber, I caught Anakin’s arm as soon as the doors sealed shut. “What the hell was that?”

“I meant it.”

“I don’t want you to leave the Order,” I hissed. “That’s not what this is about.”

“No,” he said. “It’s about what they’ll do to you next. If I’m gone, they’ll stop watching. You’ll be free.”

“I don’t want to be free from you.”

We stared at each other, hearts pounding like sabers clashing in our chests.

“I need you,” I said. “But not at the cost of who you are.”

He exhaled slowly. Like the weight of the galaxy was bleeding out of him.

Then—softly, with a crooked, tired smile:

“You’re stuck with me, then.”

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The air was heavy with incense. The room glowed in soft amber, filtered through the skylight above. I sat cross-legged across from Master Yoda. He hadn’t spoken in minutes. Just breathed. So I waited.

Finally—his eyes opened. “Conflicted, you are,” he said.

My throat tightened. The words came slow. “I chose the Republic.”

A beat.

Then softer—almost to myself: “I chose Anakin.”

Yoda nodded, as if that was never in question. “But your heart does not rest.”

My fingers curled into the fabric of my robe. “I keep wondering… what if Obi-Wan was right?”

“Right, he may be,” Yoda said, eyes half-lidded. “In what he fights for.”

“But not how he fights for it.”

I looked up. “He said he serves the will of the Force. That the Jedi only serve bureaucracy.”

“Hard words. Painful truths, perhaps.” Yoda’s ears drooped slightly. “But twisted, they have become. Shadows of ideals. Shaped by grief. War.”

I swallowed hard.

“You still feel him,” he said.

I nodded. “Every time I reach for the Force, it’s like… there’s this thread. Tense. Pulling. I don’t know if he’s trying to save me—or if he thinks I need saving.”

───── ❝.𖥔 ݁ ˖ meanwhile, across the galaxy .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❞ ─────

Rain fell hard on the scorched stone.

Obi-Wan stood at the edge of a ruined balcony, cloak soaked, hood down. His eyes were closed. Hands behind his back. The Force pulsed around him—chaotic, loud.

He felt it.

That flicker in the bond. The moment she chose. His eyes snapped open. “They still think I’m lost,” he murmured. Behind him, a figure stepped out of the shadows—hooded. Calm.

“You are,” said Count Dooku, voice like gravel over fire. “But that’s what makes you dangerous to them.”

Obi-Wan didn’t look away from the storm. “She chose Skywalker.”

“For now.”

Obi-Wan’s jaw tensed. “She doesn’t see what I see. What he’s becoming.”

“Then show her,” Dooku said simply. “You don’t need to fight them. Just… open her eyes.”

Obi-Wan said nothing for a long time.

Then—

“I won’t hurt her.”

“You won’t have to.”

Lightning cracked above. Obi-Wan turned away from the sky, from the storm. And vanished back into the dark.

───── ❝.𖥔 ݁ ˖ back at the temple .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❞ ─────

“Still loves you, he does,” Yoda said gently.

I closed my eyes.

“That’s what scares me.”

Yoda tilted his head. “Afraid for yourself, are you?”

I shook my head. “Afraid for him.”

A long silence.

Then Yoda whispered, “When love becomes fear, dangerous it is. But when it becomes hope… mm. Stronger than any saber.”

I exhaled slowly. The words didn’t fix anything.

But for the first time since Mustafar, I didn’t feel like I was drowning.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The emotional aftershocks from the Temple still haven’t settled. But time waits for no one—

I found Anakin in the Temple’s north courtyard, staring up at the sky like it might split open and offer answers. His arm was still in a sling. His lightsaber lay across his lap—silent, but not resting. He didn’t look at me as I approached.

“He’s going to reach out again,” he said.

I sat beside him. “You felt it too?”

Anakin nodded. “Not directly. But... I know him.”

His fingers traced the emitter of his saber. “If Obi-Wan thinks he’s lost you, he’ll push harder. Not because he’s angry—because he still believes he can save you.”

“I don’t need saving.”

He finally looked at me. “I know.”

I reached for his hand and held it between both of mine. “Then trust me.”

His voice dropped. “It’s not you I don’t trust.”

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

“Her connection to Kenobi is... not severed,” Windu said, pacing. “If he makes contact again, she could be compromised.”

“She is loyal,” Plo Koon offered, calm but firm.

“So was Dooku, once,” Ki-Adi replied darkly.

“She’s more than loyal,” Yoda said, his eyes closed. “She’s centered. Even in conflict, clarity she finds.”

“Or deception,” Windu said sharply. “We should bring her in. Question her.”

“No,” Yoda said. Everyone turned. Yoda’s eyes opened—sharp, certain. “Let her come to us.”

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The holotable flickered.

Rex stood with dust still on his armor, helmet tucked under one arm, eyes heavy with exhaustion.

“Got something you’ll want to see,” he said, nodding toward the console.

A blue-tinted hologram of a devastated outpost blinked to life. Republic insignias—burned. Bodies—clones. Some of them his.

“We found this two clicks from Carida system,” Rex said. “Intel said it was a droid trap.”

Anakin stepped forward. “It wasn’t?”

“No droids,” Rex said. “But one Jedi signature, confirmed by the medtechs.”

He looked at me.

“Kenobi.”

My stomach dropped. “Sabotage?” I asked.

“More like... persuasion. The officers in command didn’t die from lightsaber wounds. They surrendered.”

Rex tapped the console. A new file opened—encrypted, but partially recovered.

A message. Only a few seconds of audio.

“You don’t have to die for a system that doesn’t see you. The Jedi aren’t your masters. You have a choice.”

Obi-Wan’s voice.

Calm. Steady.

Familiar.

Anakin didn’t move. But I felt his anger like a storm surge in the Force. “He’s turning the clones,” he whispered.

Rex didn’t deny it. “They’re listening, sir. Some of them... they’re starting to question orders.”

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I couldn’t sleep.

Not with Obi-Wan’s voice still ringing in my ears. Not with the Council watching me like a shadow waiting to fall. Anakin hadn’t spoken since the report. He stood at the edge of the balcony, overlooking the sleeping city. When I joined him, he didn’t flinch.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I whispered.

“I’m thinking if he reaches out to you, I won’t stop you from answering.”

I blinked. “What?”

“I won’t stop you. But I’ll be there when you do.”

His hand brushed mine.

“Because if he takes you… I’ll burn every planet he hides on.”

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The message came through just past midnight.

Encrypted. Buried in the Temple’s archives under a false file name: "Orbit Shift—Coruscant Agricultural Zones.”

A routine maintenance ping. Except… the metadata held a signature code. And I recognized it. Not because it was current.

Because it was old. Because Obi-Wan taught it to me.

───── ❝.𖥔 ݁ ˖ flashback .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❞ ─────

I couldn’t have been more than nine.

Too old, the Temple Masters said. But Qui-Gon Jinn had argued. Said the Force moved differently in some children. Said attachment was not always a weakness.

Obi-Wan was the first to meet me.

He was younger then. Still figuring out how to teach without sounding like he was quoting a textbook.

He’d handed me a broken communicator. Told me to fix it.

I crossed my arms. “Is this some Jedi test?”

His smile had been small, wry. “No. I just don’t have the parts. But if you want to talk to someone… sometimes the Force listens better when the lines are open.”

I remember turning the device over. Something etched inside, shallow but deliberate.

O.K. → Y/N If you’re ever lost, reverse the signal.

I didn’t know what he meant then.

But I do now.

───── ❝.𖥔 ݁ ˖ end flashback .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❞ ─────

The hidden audio burst to life—only thirty seconds. Static. A familiar rhythm behind it. Not words—a pattern. My old comm code. Reversed.

Obi-Wan’s voice filtered through, faint but deliberate.

“You’re not the only one who remembers. They’ll say you’ve chosen your side. But the Force doesn’t take sides. It only waits for balance.”

Silence. Then, softer:

“Come to Carida. Alone.”

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The message hadn’t stayed secret long.

I stood in the center of the room, flanked by two temple guards. I hadn’t been arrested—but I hadn’t been invited, either.

Mace Windu was the first to speak.

“This is a direct contact from an enemy of the Republic. It cannot be ignored.”

“It was sent in code,” I said. “He knew I’d find it.”

“Which means it was for you,” he snapped. “Not for the Order.”

“She has history with him,” Ki-Adi said. “Emotional attachment.”

Yoda was quiet. Watching me.

Mace continued. “We can’t afford to assume her loyalty is stable. Not anymore.”

“Then say it,” I said coldly. “You think I’m a liability.”

“We think you’re the only one he’ll come near,” Plo Koon said. “Which makes you valuable.”

Which makes me bait, I thought. No one denied it.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Anakin stood beside the ship they assigned me. His eyes were dark, jaw clenched.

“You don’t have to go,” he said.

“I do.”

“If he hurts you—”

“He won’t.”

Anakin grabbed my arm gently, his voice low and breaking.

“You think I’m scared of Obi-Wan?” he said. “I’m scared of losing you to him.”

I reached up, touching his face. “You won’t.” But I didn’t add as long as you don’t try to stop me. We were both keeping things back now. The space between us had never felt so wide.

───── ❝.𖥔 ݁ ˖ meanwhile, across the galaxy .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❞ ─────

Obi-Wan waited.

Alone.

No army. No fortress. Just a ruined garden, grown over with moss and silence.

He looked up at the stars. Felt the shift in the Force. She’s coming. And for the first time in days... He let himself hope.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The ship touched down on cracked stone.

Vines had overtaken what must’ve once been a training temple—a Jedi outpost from before the war, when the Order still sent knights to the Outer Rim to build things instead of break them.

Now, it looked like the ruins of something sacred. Or maybe something abandoned.

I stepped out. The air was thick with green and silence. And then—movement. He was already waiting.

Cloak draped over one shoulder, lightsaber at his hip. His hair was longer than I remembered. He looked older, but not fragile. Not dark.

Just... tired.

“Y/N,” Obi-Wan said, and it wasn’t a warning.

It was a memory. My name in a voice I hadn’t heard in months, and never like that.

I didn’t answer.

She’s come alone. But she didn’t come unarmed.

He gestured to a broken column. “Walk with me.”

I did. Not a duel yet. Not a battle. Just two people who used to know each other better than anyone else, now walking on opposite sides of a crumbling world.

We moved slowly through the ruins, the Force humming between us like tension in a drawn bow. Not hostile. Not yet.

“Why here?” I asked.

“It used to be a place of peace,” he said quietly. “I thought you’d remember it.”

I did. A training camp I visited once as a Padawan. He’d been instructing a small group then. I remembered watching him from a balcony. Even then, he'd looked alone. We stopped at a fallen archway where moss grew over stone carvings of ancient Jedi.

Obi-Wan turned to face me. “You got the message,” he said. “I wasn’t sure they’d let you.”

“They didn’t,” I said.

He nodded like he expected that. Then looked at me—really looked at me. “You’ve changed.”

“So have you.”

He didn’t smile. “I was hoping you’d see it for yourself. What the Council’s become. What the Jedi have become.”

My heart ached. “I have seen it.”

“Then come with me,” he said. No hesitation. No anger.

Just that same unbearable calm he always carried, even when the galaxy burned.

“You think it’s that simple?” I asked.

“I think it has to be.”

He stepped closer.

“I’m not building an empire. I’m not bowing to Sidious. I’ve seen what that leads to.”

He didn’t say Anakin’s name—but the silence screamed it.

“I want to rebuild something better. Something outside of the Republic’s chains. But I need people who still believe in something.”

I looked at him, torn in a thousand ways.

And he saw it.

“You still believe in me,” Obi-Wan said softly. “Don’t you?”

I opened my mouth but I didn’t answer.

Not yet.

───── ❝.𖥔 ݁ ˖ meanwhile, across the galaxy .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❞ ─────

The Council watched the tracker blink slowly across the holomap.

“She’s with him,” Windu said.

“Not detained,” Ki-Adi added.

“By choice,” Plo Koon murmured.

Anakin stood at the edge of the room, eyes locked on that blinking dot.

“I told you,” he said. “If anything happens to her…”

His voice didn’t finish the sentence.

It didn’t need to.

───── ❝.𖥔 ݁ ˖ back in carida.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❞ ─────

Obi-Wan led me to the center of the ruins.

What I saw stopped me cold.

Stone columns had been reshaped—some by the Force, some by hand—into a circle. A ring of old Jedi symbols. The center held a tree, half-dead, half-blooming. Roots tangled around shattered armor. Clone helmets. Jedi hilts.

A memorial.

Or a warning.

“This is what we’re building,” he said. “Not a rebellion. A refuge.” He turned to me again—closer now, face etched with conviction. “You don’t have to go back to them. You don’t have to choose him.”

The words hit harder than anything else. But I didn’t flinch.

“I came to hear you,” I said. “To see for myself.”

“And?”

I looked at the tree. At the wreckage. At everything he’d kept buried in this garden of ghosts. Then back to him. “I chose the Republic,” I said first. And I saw hope flicker—just for a second—in his eyes. But then I finished. Quieter. Unshakable. “…I chose Anakin.”

Obi-Wan exhaled like he’d taken a hit to the ribs. His expression didn’t break—he was too disciplined for that. But the Force rippled with grief.

“I never wanted to lose you,” he said.

“You didn’t,” I whispered. “But I’m not yours to keep.”

He didn’t follow me as I turned to leave. He didn’t call after me.

But I felt it.

The moment it changed.

Like a thread severing. A bond splintering.

And somewhere, I knew—

He wouldn’t ask again.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Anakin was waiting as I stepped off the ship.

He looked like hell—bruised, limping, tired—but alive. And the second he saw me, something in his shoulders dropped. The storm in him stilled.

“You came back,” he said, voice hoarse.

I stepped into him. “I never left.”

He pulled me close. Held on like he’d die if he didn’t. Above us, the skyline burned gold with sunrise. But peace still felt a galaxy away.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

TO BE CONTINUED ?? IN PART TWO:

Conviction (2) | Anakin Skywalker

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ktownshizzle · 5 months ago

Text

Nerd & Nerdier | Chapter 1

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x reader, Jeon Wonwoo x reader; endgame? x reader

✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Fluff, Attempt At Comedy, Roommates au, Love triangle

✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: Moving in with two introverts should have been easy. Not when it’s Min Yoongi and Jeon Wonwoo, who decide they both want you. Unhinged, awkward, and nerdy as hell, they proceed to compete for your attention in the most unnecessarily dramatic fashion that culminates into a… rap battle.

✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: Wildly gratuitous, You might 100% chance you’ll fall in love with both of them so that’s a problem, no mxm dynamics to be expected

✎ ˎˊ˗ Chapter Warnings: None

✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 1k

✎ ˎˊ˗ Posting date: February 15, 2025

✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: I am quite nervous about this series if imma be really honest bec this the first time I am doing a BTS-SVT crossover fic, but basically Yoongi and Wonwoo are ruining my life so I need to cope, please be kind I literally do not know what I’m doing. All I know is I have written out a good chunk of this series and I promise it’ll be fun. :) Thanks Jae @angellekookie for being my first test subject. I hope you all enjoy!~

TAGLIST IS OPEN | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Moving in with two introverts should have been easy. That’s what you told yourself when you signed the lease, all bright-eyed optimism and naive faith in your ability to coexist peacefully with two quiet, low-maintenance roommates.

You were wrong.

Because Min Yoongi and Jeon Wonwoo weren’t just introverts. They were weaponized introverts.

The kind that moved through life with an air of effortless detachment, as if emotions were things that happened to other people, not them. The kind that could sit in the same room in absolute silence for hours without any need to acknowledge each other’s existence. The kind that, despite their best efforts, were also painfully awkward.

But that’s okay. In fact that’s part of their charm.

You think they’re both cool, if slightly nerdy. Yoongi was a music producer and Wonwoo was a game developer. They both have a penchant for photography, their cameras holding space in a special shelf in your living room. Yoongi liked cooking, Wonwoo liked reading. Both of them are passable singers, but you’ve heard them rap (under their breaths) to Epik High whenever you played their old songs, and both got flow, not gonna lie.

While Yoongi had the energy of a cat who tolerated your presence at best, Wonwoo had the aura of a ghost who wasn’t sure if he was haunting you or just existing in the same space by accident.

And despite your awkward first interactions, Yoongi eventually warmed up to you in the way one might warm up to a stray cat that kept showing up at their doorstep—begrudgingly, but with an unspoken fondness. Wonwoo, on the other hand, started making these tiny, barely noticeable gestures of consideration, like leaving the light on if you were out late or subtly pushing your favorite snacks to the front of the pantry because you were too short to reach them from the back.

And you, completely oblivious to the trouble brewing beneath the surface, assumed that was that. Roomies being roomies.

What you didn’t realize was that somewhere between stolen bites of Yoongi’s late-night ramen while listening to his records and the post-work gaming sessions you have with Wonwoo while sharing popcorn, both boys had started to notice you in a way that was definitely not roommate-friendly and vice versa.

Roll the tape…

(01)

You weren’t even thinking when you snuck into the kitchen that night, mind set on one thing and one thing only: honey butter chips.

It wasn’t your fault that you finished your bag (Calbee puts some kind of crack in there, you swear), but you know someone else might still have a bag or two on the top shelf, if only you could rea—

“Tryna steal hyung’s stash again?”

You jumped, turning to see Wonwoo leaning against the doorframe, his glasses slightly askew and his hair falling over his eyes. The loose shirt he wore hung off his shoulders just right, and it suddenly struck you how broad those shoulders actually were.

“Fuck,” you whispered, heart still racing. “You scared me.”

As he walked over, you couldn’t help but notice how quietly he moved, almost like he was gliding. And when he reached past you to grab the snacks with ease, you caught the faint scent of his shampoo, something clean and subtle that made you a little dizzy.

“How’d you know these were what I wanted?” you asked softly.

Wonwoo’s smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by something softer. “You always reach for them first at the store,” he said, like it was obvious.

And maybe it was.

He casually opened the bag with one clean twist, the foil crinkling in the quiet kitchen before handing it to you. Without a word, he reached in and popped a chip into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

Then he smiled—small, lopsided, and so effortlessly boyish that it caught you off guard. You’d never realized how cute his smile was until now.

As he walked away, you stood there, clutching the bag of snacks to your chest as Wonwoo headed back to his room, leaving you alone in the kitchen with a weird fluttering in your stomach.

(02)

One night, sleep evaded you completely. Maybe it was the weight of the day, or maybe it was the sudden pang of missing your family that you couldn’t shake.

The faint sound of music led you to Yoongi’s room. You hovered at his door, unsure, until—

“Come in,” his low voice called out.

The room was dim, bathed in the soft glow of his monitor. Yoongi sat at his desk, sleeves pushed up, fingers tapping rhythmically against his keyboard. You tried not to stare, but there was something unfairly attractive about how effortlessly cool he looked, even half-asleep.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Mmhm,” you admitted with a hum. “Just… missing home, I guess.”

Yoongi’s expression softened just slightly, enough for you to notice. “Mm. That shit sneaks up on you,” he muttered.

“Can I stay?” you asked quietly.

“Yeah.”

Somehow, it felt weird taking up space in his bed. So you sat on the floor instead, hugging your knees.

After a beat he joined you on the rug and he played a track for you. The music was soft, layered, and it made something inside you ache in a way that wasn’t unpleasant.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered. “Like a happy memory…”

Yoongi chuckled softly. “Yah, don’t go emo on me now.”

You rolled your eyes, but the tension in your chest eased a little.

At some point, your head found its way to his shoulder, your exhaustion catching up with you. Yoongi froze for half a second before leaning his head gently against yours.

Neither of you said anything when you stirred a few hours after.

Neither of you needed to.

Roommate Rule #1: Don’t Fall for Your Roommate(s). (Too Late)

Things like that kept happening. Quiet moments. Moments that weren’t meant to mean anything but lingered far longer than they should have. Little details you started noticing about them, that maybe you shouldn’t have.

The way Yoongi’s sleeves were always rolled up, revealing strong forearms that you had no business looking at for that long. The way Wonwoo’s glasses would slide down his nose when he was focused, and how you found yourself wanting to reach over and push them back up for him.

You pushed those thoughts aside. Because they’re your roommates.

But something had already shifted. You just hadn’t realized how much.

Which led to the current situation:

Yoongi, leaning against the kitchen counter, watching you laugh at something Wonwoo just said.

Wonwoo, sipping his coffee with a smug little tilt of his lips, aware that his hyung was watching and he’s thriving off it.

And you, completely unaware that you were the unintentional catalyst for an impending nerd war aka the royal roomie rumble aka the most awkward month of your life.

Are you even ready?

;)

Chapter 2 >

A/N: How are we feeling????? I'm really excited about this series. (I know I have a million WIPS but pleaseee... this one has been HAUNTING my dreams)

Taglist is open! > You can join the permanent taglist here or leave a comment if you want to be tagged for this story.

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Divider by: @cafekitsune (thank you!)

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kabr0ztrousers · 6 months ago

Text

Kabr0z Writes Episode 14: Artistic Intent

Find the rest of the anthology here!

CWs: exhibition; semi-public sex; very light femdom; knotting and creampie;

Author's Note: Super short one today, work's been a real fuck

#########################################

A newspaper ad. How many places actually advertise in newspapers any more? "Woman wanted to pose for painting class, starts 7pm Tuesday evening until 10pm, £50"

Not like you're doing anything else that evening, and £50 is £50, so you rang the number and gave your name.

Tuesday night. Quarter to 7 in the evening. You found the room in the community centre and let yourself in. A tall white lupine was setting up easels, carrying two under each rippling arm. He half-looked at you "Good, you've arrived. You can strip behind that curtain then sit on the chair. Any pose will do, but make sure it's comfortable. You'll be sat like that for the full three hours"

Five minutes later, you'd settled on a pose, sat languidly over the chair, one arm over the back, the other on your leg. You could feel a draft in the room, bringing your skin up in goosebumps and hardening your nipples. You could see the lupine staring when he thought you wouldn't notice. That's fine. You're here to be looked at.

The students filed in, a mixed bag of sexes, ages, species, they set up canvases and prepared palettes as the white wolf spoke

"We're studying anatomy today. Look at the subject, reduce the forms to shapes. Note the angles of the joints, how her limbs hang, the shading on her skin." You could almost hear his mouth watering as he continued "Pay attention to her hips, her waist, the roundness of the breasts, the arch of the neck, how her hair falls across her shoulders"

He wasn't hiding his stare now. Almost slavering as he looked up at you. Sitting here, exposed with a dozen pairs of eyes on you, you could feel yourself getting worked up. He could probably smell it.

The hours passed painfully slowly. Every so often the lupine would opine on some detail of your position or your body, drawing the painters attention to your ass, your belly, never missing a chance to draw attention to your tits. You couldn't help but get wet hearing him describe every inch of you.

The session ended, the students filing out and leaving their work to dry on the easels.

"Take a look, see what they've come out with" The lupine gave you a hand and supported you as you put weight back on your stiff limbs. You could feel his muscles under the fur, strong and wiry. He could probably throw you around like a ragdoll if he wanted to.

You perused the work, some had focused in on your posture, ignoring your face, some had completely missed the mark, your body looking gangly or distorted, one had rendered you entirely in a web of triangles, a baffling web of fractal lines.

The lupine had his hand on your waist. You could feel hot, heavy breaths on your still-naked body.

You turned on him. Stepped forward. The floor looked hard, and cold. You didn't care. He was warm, and soft. You sat him down and planted yourself on top of him. "You've been imagining this all night" barely whispering into his ear

"I had expected to buy you dinner first" he growled with arousal, already hard underneath you

Your hands were already busy underneath you, unfastening his trousers as he tugged them off beneath you. His cock sprung free in front of you, reaching almost up to your belly button and already leaking canine precum, glittering droplets rolling down the shaft.

You pushed him down, his hands still on your waist as he lay on his back, cock poised under you. Guided by his hands, you pushed the tip inside. You rolled your hips, keeping only the first couple of inches in you. His mouth hung open as he screwed his eyes shut at your teasing. Ever so slowly you took him deeper, inch by inch. Pulling out a little, dipping down a little. Every time your pussy rubbed against the end of his cock, you could see him getting a little closer, and you'd stop a moment. He had his fun while you were on that seat, you can have yours now.

Minute by minute you teased and edged him, the sound of his ragged breathing making you hotter and wetter as you went. You took the last inch. Only his knot left now, and he'd have to earn that. You started riding him, leaning back so the end of his cock rubbed your upper wall, pushing against your g-spot both ways, making your orgasm well up ever more inside you. You could feel it filling you, his hand left your waist and set to work on your clit, a thumb frantically rubbing your eager nub, driving you wilder and wilder with every stroke.

Release. Your hips bucked as you cried out in pleasure. The lupine didn't waste any time, driving you down onto him again. You let your weight drop, pushing the knot inside and riding him harder, trying to prolong your orgasm as you felt him start to spurt and he groaned out his satisfaction. You kept on working your hips, dragging the still-hard throbbing cock around your insides, letting him coat your interior with cum until you came to rest, still sat on top of his cock, enjoying how much the knot filled you and made your pussy drool around it.

It took a good twenty minutes to soften enough to work out of you, followed by a flow of thick cum dripping out and onto the front of his trousers.

You kissed

"So... Kebab and a pint?"

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ur-local-wizard · 7 months ago

Text

A Lucky Christmas

A seemingly innocent and thoughtful gift turns out to have an unexpected surprise.

heheh more fluff! (Can you tell it's my fav to write?), love triangle, lots of impulsivity, slight(?) drugging, characters are adults, mattheo and theo being absolutely whipped, mattheodore?, mattheo riddle x fem!reader, theo nott x fem!reder

w/c: 1k

nav masterlist

a/n: so sorry this took forever to post! got sick and barely got time to sleep between puking sessions, much less write.... ANYWAY, shout out to @leona-hawthorne for proof reading for me!

Mattheo didn’t know how he got himself into this situation. He knew he and Y/n were staying at Hogwarts for Christmas. He stayed at school simply to avoid his father, but she refused to give her reason why she decided to stay. The whole thing was weird, especially because she usually looked forward to going home and spending time with her family.

A few days into break, Y/n wanted to help the house elves decorate the Great Hall, and somehow she and her irresistible smile got him to come with her. So imagine his surprise when Theo, of all people, walks into the hall, ready to help her out too. Mattheo didn’t even know that the Italian was staying as well. Did she ask him to help too?

This girl just has the two of them wrapped around her little finger, and she’s so oblivious to that fact that it’s almost infuriating.

So now, the three are scurrying around the huge room, hanging tinsel and putting ornaments on the huge tree. Y/n is occupied with draping garland made of popcorn and cranberries across the evergreen’s branches, with the help of some house elves. Mattheo and Theo got stuck with the job of sorting through old ornaments, with the instructions to throw away any broken baubles they might find. However, a wooden one caught Mattheo’s eye. It was engraved with y/n’s favorite flower, and it was just the perfect gift to give to the girl.

“Psst, Theo,” the brunette hissed, looking around to make sure no one else was within ear shot. Theo turned around, an eyebrow raised. He hummed inquisitively. “You think we can give this to Y/n? She would like this, right?” Mattheo asked, passing the trinket. “You’re better at all the sentimental stuff than me.”

Theo inspected the ornament, nodding. “I think she would. Good find.” He nudged the brunette’s shoulder before waving a house elf over.

The elf assured the two boys that they never use the ornament anyways, and so Theo shoved it in his pocket. “I’ll go put this in our dorm. We’re almost done here anyway, so you guys shouldn’t miss me much. If Y/n asks, just tell her that I’ll see her at dinner, yeah?”

Mattheo noded, and the rest of the time spent decorating flew by. He ended up regretting his decision to help, solely because he didn’t get many chances to be with Y/n. He figured the elves must’ve loved torturing him.

By the time Mattheo got back to his dorm, Theo was pacing around. The Italian had the wooden trinket in his hand, holding it in a vice-like grip.

“You good?” Mattheo asked him, to which Theo responded, “Yeah. Fine. Just jittery. Where's Y/n?”

The brunette gave him a questioning look, but responded nonetheless. “Don’t know for sure, but I would assume her dorm. She said she was tired when we left.” Theo nodded in response, and set the ornament he was holding down, quickly racing out of the shared space. He looked jittery and oddly excited, uncharacteristic of the Italian.

However, Mattheo decided to shrug it off. He picked up the trinket, turning it over in his hands to examine it. This compulsive curiosity began to morph into a full-blown exploration, his mind focused on the girl this gift was meant for. Suddenly, an abrupt wave of confidence washed over him, making him feel unusually warm and tingly.

He set the bauble down, eyes flitting toward the door. Maybe he would go and talk to Y/n too, just to have a little chat. Or better yet, he could admit how he feels. He’s had a thing for her for forever, his mind never failing to wander to more romantic places when in her presence.

His feet moved on his own, carrying him through the castle and to her dorm; and before he knew it, his fist was knocking on her door. It swung open, and he was greeted by a fond smile spreading on her lips when she saw him. He stepped inside, and wasn’t surprised when he saw Theo standing in the room as well.

“Are you here for what I think you are?” Mattheo asked the other boy, to which Theo nodded. “Mhm. I just told her I love her.”

The other boy’s bluntness surprised Mattheo a bit, since indelicate and direct comments were usually the brunette’s forte. It must just be an odd day.

“Well,” Mattheo gently took Y/n’s hand, getting her attention, “I feel the same way about you that Theo does. I love you, darling. You’ve been such a bright light in my life.”

Her eyes went wide with surprise, and she went still. Mouth floundering a bit, the girl struggled to form a response. The boys noticed and chuckled, Theo reassuring her. “I'm not sure about Mattheo, but I know I’m not going to make you choose. I just want a chance.”

Mattheo nodded in agreement. “God no, I wouldn’t dream of putting you through that stress.” Y/n relaxed a bit at that comment, but she was still a bit weary, due to their odd and overly impulsive behavior.

“You guys are always a bit reckless, Mattheo especially.” She gives him a little nudge. “But what’s up with you two?”

They both shrug. “Dunno. Just got you this present, which made me think about you a ton. I guess thinking about you so much made me want to tell you?” Theo guesses. “I felt the same way. Hey- did you get that weird rush when you held it too?” Mattheo queried, now invested.

“Weird rush? What, was it laced with liquid luck?” Y/n asks with a laugh, albeit a slightly apprehensive one. Her comment earned shocked looks from the boys, quickly followed by laughter.

“That’s it! I didn’t think much of the weird giddiness, though I should have,” Theo said between laughs.

“Nor of the sudden rush of confidence,” Mattheo agrees, his shoulders shaking with amusement. “We should get her a new gift, huh?”

Theo nodded in agreement, and the group laughed about it for a while. The boys certainly didn’t hear the end of their accidental potion mishap for quite some time, Y/n teasing them about it relentlessly.

Thank you all for your patience while I've been sick! I'm not too happy with this, but I needed to get it out lollll <3

tag list: @mattyriddlesbitch @sturniolover13 @thereeallink

©ur-local-wizard translating, republishing, copying, or claiming my work as yours is not permitted. all my work belongs to me and me only. thank you!

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chenya-my-love · 1 year ago

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Malleus x Yuu x Ace

So the fandom as a whole seems to agree on two things. Malleus's feelings for Yuu can easily be interpreted as less than platonic, and that Ace has the fattest crush on Yuu.

And a handful of people have written a love triangle between the three. But almost all can be summarized as "Ace takes an L". But I don't think people see the angst on both sides.

Ace is socially aware, he can tell from a mile away that Malleus has feelings for Yuu and wants to be with Yuu. And he is also aware the he can't compete with Malleus.

Malleus is one of the top 5 mages in the world and literal royalty. What's Ace? An average boy who lives an average life. The most shocking thing he did was manage to get into the prestigous Night Raven College, and he isn't excelling. His grades are nothing impressive and he doesn't even have his unique magic yet. Plus chances are when he graduates, he'll return to having a normal life.

Malleus can give Yuu the comfortable life that Ace just can't. If Yuu marries Malleus they live a great life as royalty. They have riches beyond their comprehension and a powerful dragon willing to go to the ends of the world for them. In the end Ace just can't compare. He's nothing compared to Malleus.

But then you have Malleus, and he can see the difference between the relationship he and Yuu have and the relationship Yuu and Ace have. While Yuu is kind and friendly to Malleus and clearly cares for him. It doesn't take a genius to tell that Yuu is more comfortable with Ace, Ace was their first friend in NRC after all. They have sleepovers and eat lunch together and have study sessions. While him and Yuu just don't. He's aware that Ace and Yuu are closer.

And he's also aware of what the royal life is like beyond the glamor that normal people see. He knows about the struggles and the isolation that comes with it. And he's just a prince, imagine how much worse it is as a king. He's also aware the prejudice the Briar Valley has toward humans. Sebek didn't get his views out of nowhere after all.

He's aware that marrying a human wouldn't magically fix the issues in the valley, it would be a bandage over the issue if not make the issue worse. Especially if him and Yuu managed to have a child, it would likely leave a bad taste in the Valley's mouthes that an average citizen of the valley is more fae then the literal heirs to the kingdom. He's aware of the strife Yuu would face if they entered a relationship with him.

So Malleus knows that Ace can give Yuu something that he simply can't. Normalcy. If Malleus and Yuu entered a relationship, Yuu would be unable to see the world like they want, and even if Malleus managed to take a day or two off to have fun. Him and Yuu wouldn't be normal. They would be stared at as the royalty of the Briar Valley. They couldn't have a normal moment.

While Ace could give Yuu and normal life. If Ace and Yuu got married than they could live in the Queendom of Roses, a place with a high human percentage. They could work normal jobs and be able to squeeze in the life that Yuu deserves. Yuu can be a normal person with Ace. Yuu can live a normal life with Ace.

Both of them are in a battle for Yuu's heart but both think they have already lost. Because they're both so different on a fundamental level, that they know that they could never give Yuu the same life and both think the life the other could provide is better.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst yuu #malleus x yuu #twst malleus #malleus draconia #ace x yuu #twst ace #ace trappola #twst angst

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scarluna · 7 months ago

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Y/N, a gifted but self-conscious graphic designer, lands a job at Jeon Enterprises, a powerhouse ruled by the sharp and controlling Jeon Jungkook, whose ruthless perfectionism hides behind an enigmatic façade. Though admired and feared, Jungkook targets Y/N’s insecurities, using them as weapons against her.

Beside him stands his best friend, Min Yoongi, a sly and unpredictable force whose hot-and-cold behavior leaves Y/N questioning his motives.

Tangled in a web of cold authority, teasing games, and unspoken desire, Y/N must navigate a dangerous love triangle where ambition and emotion collide, threatening to unravel everything.

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem!Reader x Min Yoongi

Genre/Tags: plus sized reader, enemies to lovers, ceo!jungkook, graphic designer!reader, mafia!yoongi

Link to the other chapters: ACT I / ACT II / ACT IV / ACT V / ACT VI / ACT VII / ACT VIII

Chapters: 3 / ?

Chapter Warnings: mature language, bullying, slow burn, enemies to lovers

A/N: Let me know what you think of this chapter ;) Wink wonk.

ACT III.

The office buzzed with energy as the team gathered for an impromptu meeting. At this point, I had gotten used to the sudden meetings with absolutely no head start. Jungkook was not only controlling but impulsive as hell. No one knew what he was thinking, and for some, it was damn scary.

He stood at the head of the long conference table as me, Hoseok and Rya walked in. His expression sharp and focused over the scattered papers on the table. He wore a plain white button up shirt, dark grey jeans and his sleeves as usual were rolled up his sleeves showing off his tattoos. On one of his wrist there was an expensive Graff watch. Damn. Him and his expensiveness.

Next to him was Tina, practically glowing as she leaned just a little too close to him. Ever since I told her my piece of mind, she had been way too careful not to make it obvious because obviously people were whispering and spreading rumors. I guess she hasn't given up and had some hopes that she'd be noticed. As much as I despised her for how she treated me, I was feeling sorry for her at the same time. Her choice of clothing screamed attention too. Well, who was I to judge? I had no right to do that. Maybe someday the luck would be on her side, who knew?

“Listen up,” Jungkook began once everyone had taken their seats, his voice commanding the room. “MNT Media, one of our main competitors, is hosting a masquerade ball next Saturday. It’s more than just a social event—they’re using it as a chance to attract high-profile clients. Our goal is to ensure they don’t take our edge in the market.”

Tina raised her hand with a smug smile. “And how exactly are we supposed to ‘outshine’ them? Is there, like, a plan for that?”

Jungkook barely glanced her way. “Do your job, Tina. That’s the plan.”

The smirk I tried to suppress threatened to break through. Tina’s face faltered, but she quickly covered it with another fake smile, twirling a strand of her blonde hair around her slim pointer finger. Gosh, she was such a cheerleader.

The room hummed with murmurs of curiosity.

“What does this mean for us?” Rya asked from her seat, her brows knit together. I took a glance at her. Unlike Tina, Rya was not showing her "admiration" too obviously and besides, she was way too mature and work-oriented to choose a good session of sex with her boss. I admired her for that.

Jungkook gestured to a slide on the projector, outlining a strategic approach. “It means we’ll attend the ball. Every single one of you is expected to be there.We’re not going to outright sabotage, but we will make sure our clients and prospects see us as the better option. Keep it subtle—this isn’t a smear campaign. It’s about relationships and presence.”And yes,” Jungkook added, his gaze cutting through the room like a knife, “graphic designers too.” His voice held a sharp edge of authority, daring anyone to challenge him.

I blinked, caught off guard by the specificity of his statement. “Graphic designers too? I thought only management should be present there,” I murmured, trying to keep my tone casual. I had never been to a ball. A masquerade ball for that matter.

He turned his head sharply to me, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You think your job is just fonts and colors, don’t you?”

I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks as his eyes pinned me down, but I refused to back down. “Not exactly, but—”

“But nothing,” he interrupted smoothly, leaning against the table, his tattoos flexing as his forearms rested on the edge. “Visuals sell. A well-designed presentation, a strategically placed logo, or even the subtleties in our event materials can make or break a client’s first impression. We need all hands on deck for this. Even,” he paused, locking eyes with me, “the ones who think they’re just here to doodle.”

The room shifted uncomfortably, a few stifled chuckles breaking the tension. I narrowed my eyes, but there was no mistaking the magnetic pull in the air between us. I hated how his cockiness somehow made my pulse race.

Hoseok, sensing the awkwardness, cleared his throat. “So... we’re all just attending or actively involved?”

“Actively,” Jungkook replied without missing a beat, his attention still on me. “You’ll each have tasks to ensure our brand presence is felt. It’s an opportunity to network, observe, and make sure MNT Media knows we’re not going anywhere.”

Just as I thought he might say something else to push me over the edge, he sighed dramatically, breaking the spell.

“Where the hell is Yoongi?” He raked a hand through his dark hair, his tone shifting to one of pure annoyance. “That idiot is late again.”

The room immediately relaxed but remained silent as everyone looked at each other. It was odd, since we were all caught up in that ball that we didn't notice Yoongi missing. Jungkook might have been a force to be reckoned with, but his annoyance with Yoongi being careless and late was an ongoing office joke.

“Probably got distracted by his latest overpriced gadget,” Hoseok quipped, earning a round of muffled laughs.

Jungkook let out a low groan, shaking his head like he was carrying the weight of the world—and Yoongi’s constant stumbles at work—on his shoulders. “If he weren’t my best friend, I’d have fired him five times by now.”

The mention of Yoongi and the Boss brought a flicker of thought to my mind, one that I quickly buried. But it lingered, uninvited. The rumors about Yoongi being more than just another employee—they never truly left me. Supposedly, he was the son of a conglomerate empire, someone who didn’t have to work here but chose to for reasons no one could quite figure out.

Me? I wasn’t deluded enough to think it was because of me, even though the timing was uncanny. Yoongi had started here just a few days after I did, but the whispers always suggested something else. His arrival was tied to some long-forgotten scandal, one no one had the full details on, and I had long given up trying to separate fact from fiction.

Still, the idea that Yoongi might be playing a role that went far deeper than just my “supervisor” always made me a little uneasy. Not that he ever actually supervised me. His attitude made sure of that.

“Yoongi always shows up just in time to avoid the worst of your wrath.” Tina spoke out in a sweet voice. I almost gagged.

“Lucky for him,” Jungkook muttered, leaning against the table with a long, deep sigh.

His broad shoulders slumped slightly, a rare crack in his polished, sharp-edged demeanor. For a moment, he looked... defeated. Vulnerable. It was enough to stir something deep in my chest, something I wasn’t ready to admit aloud.

But the moment passed quickly. Jungkook straightened, his sharp gaze slicing through the room once again, as if daring Yoongi to make him wait a second longer.

As the meeting finally wrapped up, my mind drifted to a new problem. A masquerade ball meant dressing up. And dressing up meant facing my wardrobe—or lack of one. How was I supposed to show up when all I owned were dark jeans, oversized t-shirts, some cardigans and that was it. Most of my clothes were black too.

After everyone returned to their desks, I cornered Rya and Hoseok by the water cooler.

“So,” I began hesitantly, “about this masquerade ball…”

Rya instantly perked up, her excitement palpable. “Isn’t it exciting? An actual masquerade ball! It’s like something out of a movie!”

“Yeah, except I have nothing to wear,” I admitted, biting my lip. “I don’t even know where to start. The last time I dressed up for anything was... well, never.”

Hoseok grinned, his easy charm shining through. “Relax, Y/N. It’s not about having the most expensive dress. It’s about confidence.”

Rya nodded enthusiastically. “I can help you find something to wear. There are plenty of places to rent gowns, and I bet you’ll look amazing once we get you sorted.”

Their support made my chest feel lighter, though a small part of me still hesitated. “Are you sure? I don’t want to embarrass myself. Or you.”

“Y/N,” Hoseok said firmly, placing a hand on my shoulder. He was taller than Rya and me, and if we didn't know him, we'd be intimidated as hell. He definitely had this cool aura and a resting bitch face people felt threatened by. He was smiling tho, like a sun that shined brightly. “You’re not embarrassing anyone. Especially not us. You’re going to show up, have fun, and remind people why you’re a badass.”

I managed a small smile. “Thanks, guys. I mean it.”

As we headed back to our desks, Tina’s shrill laughter cut through the air. She was perched on the edge of Jungkook’s desk, her hand resting just a little too close to his arm.

“Are you sure you don’t need a date for the ball?” she asked, batting her lashes at him.

I couldn’t resist the temptation to make a snarky comment. “Careful, Tina. You’re about one giggle away from falling off his desk.”

Her head snapped toward me, her eyes narrowing. “Stay out of it, Y/N. Didn't know fat people had opinions?”

“On the contrary,” I said, folding my arms as I leaned against my chair. “Watching you attempt to flirt is everyone’s business. But it's kinda amusing how pathetic you look. Keep it up, I will be rooting for you.” I gave her a bitter smile as she stared at me with a deep scowl on her face.

I noticed Jungkook’s lips twitch, but he quickly schooled his expression. “Enough, both of you. You are at a corporate setting.” he said, though his tone lacked any real bite.

“Oh, come on, Boss” I teased, unable to resist. “Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying this little performance.”

His eyes met mine, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them. “You should focus on your own preparations, Y/N,” he said smoothly. “Wouldn’t want you to show up unprepared.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” I shot back, ignoring the slight tremor in my voice. “I’ll be ready. The real question is whether you’ll survive Tina’s advances without filing a harassment complaint.”

I heard Rya and Hoseok chuckle by my side.

Jungkook shot a glare at both of my co-workers and they immediately got silent. I narrowed my eyes, arms crossed against my chest. "Y/N, if I hear one more word coming out of your mouth, I will expect your resignation letter on my desk." he spoke coldly at me. By his expression I could see that he was done with my feistiness. Oh, but I wasn't done. "If you think silencing me will solve the problem, you're underestimating me." I mumbled lowly as I stared at his eyes. He did the same and somehow I felt a tension raise in the air. Before I could continue, Rya tugged my arm toward the office, making our conversation to come to an end. Tina was staring at me in full blown surprise that I was talking to Jungkook like that. "Why don't you fire her?" I heard her ask. And then no answer from my Boss.

As I turned back to my desk, I couldn’t shake the way Jungkook’s eyes lingered on me, or the strange twist in my stomach that followed. This masquerade ball was shaping up to be more complicated than I’d anticipated.

"Girl," Rya whispered, "you are getting bolder and bolder. I fucking love that." she managed to whisper in my ear and that comment alone made me and Hoseok giggle.

The cafeteria was bustling with its usual noise—people chatting over their lunches, trays clattering as they moved through the line. The smell of fresh coffee mixed with the faint scent of freshly baked goods hit my nostrils, yet the familiar knot in my stomach twisting made all the apetite I had disappear. This time, it wasn’t because of my body or my insecurities. It was the looming threat of the masquerade ball.

I wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, but the thought of being surrounded by coworkers in an extravagant setting, feeling out of place in a sea of confident, stylish people... well, it didn’t sit well with me.

I sat with Hoseok, Rya, and a few others, trying to keep the conversation light. It was hard to focus on anything when I could already feel the weight of the ball hanging over me. I was always an anxious person and it took me months to get used to the pace of my work, despite the bullying.

“So, Hoseok,” Regina, one of the other graphic designers, piped up from across the table. She flipped her perfectly styled red hair over her shoulder, a flirty grin spreading across her face. “I was thinking… maybe you could be my date for the masquerade? You know, just the two of us. We’d make a great pair, don’t you think?”

My eyes flicked to Hoseok, and I saw him shift uncomfortably in his seat. He hesitated for a split second before speaking.

“I... I actually promised Rya I’d go with her,” he said quickly, a little too quickly, I noticed.

Regina’s smile faltered, but she quickly recovered, pretending to be completely unfazed. “Oh, really? Well, I guess that’s fine. Rya’s a great choice too.” She gave Rya a bright, fake smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Rya smiled back, but her expression was a bit surprised. “Oh, um, sure, yeah. Thanks for thinking of me, Hoseok.” She looked at him, and for a moment, there was a flicker of confusion in her eyes, but she said nothing more.

Regina’s attention had already moved on, her focus turning elsewhere, but I couldn’t help but notice how Hoseok’s gaze lingered on Rya for a second longer than usual. I wondered if there was something more there—something unspoken.

But before I could process the thought, my mind wandered again. It had only been a few days since I’d overheard that conversation between Jungkook and Yoongi, and I couldn’t shake the way Jungkook’s words had echoed in my mind. The teasing. The lingering tension.

I pulled my thoughts back to the conversation at hand, though I could barely focus.

Regina, in her usual confident manner, turned to the group with a loud dramatic sigh as she took a sip from her pepsi cola.

“You know,” she began, her voice dripping with fake innocence, “it’s just so tragic when some people can’t even hope for a date. Like, what do you even do in that situation? Just... stay home and stuff yourself with food?”

Her gaze landed on me, lingering just long enough to make her target obvious. My chest tightened, but I kept my expression neutral. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

“Not everyone’s obsessed with finding a date,” I shot back, forcing a calm tone I didn’t entirely feel. I mean, I lied, I was obsessed to find a date and also obsessed in looking good enough so people would take me seriously and not embarrass the company I worked for. Wasn't I pathetic too? Regina didn't have to know that.

Regina’s eyes widened in mock surprise, her lips curling into a sly smile. “Oh, of course! Why would you worry about that, right? It’s not like anyone’s lining up to take you out. I mean,” she added, tossing her hair over her shoulder, “you’d probably have better luck on one of those makeover shows first. You know, before they film the big reveal.”

Her words hit like a slap, sharp and humiliating, but I refused to let her see it.

“You done?” I asked, standing abruptly. My chair scraped against the floor with an echoing screech, silencing the room for a moment.

Regina blinked at me, her smile faltering for a split second before returning even sharper. “Oh, sure, sure. Don’t let me keep you from... whatever it is you do.”

I walked away before she could twist the knife any further, my head held high despite the storm raging inside me.

My stomach churned at the underlying judgment. Of course, Regina thought I wasn’t worthy of a "real" date. She probably thought someone like me didn’t belong in that kind of environment to begin with.

Everyone seemed to have someone to go with. Hoseok had Rya. Regina had probably already found someone else from the other teams. And me? I’d be the one standing alone, a face in the crowd with no one to share the night with.

I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to go to the ball at all. What would I even wear? How could I stand in a sea of perfectly put-together people when I didn’t even feel like I belonged in the same room as them?

My phone buzzed in my pocket, interrupting my thoughts. It was a text from Rya:

“Hey, don’t worry about anything. We’re going together. I’ll help you with the outfit too!”

Her message brought a small smile to my face, but the unease still lingered. I typed a quick response as I was walking down the empty long hallway of the offices.

“Thanks, Rya. I just… don’t know if I should go. I feel like I’ll be the odd one out.”

Her reply came almost immediately:

“Don’t even think that way! You’re going to have a blast, I promise. And we’re all going to be together, so who cares what anyone else thinks?”

I stared at the message, the reassurance in her words offering some comfort, but I still wasn’t convinced.

Still, I couldn’t let my fears stop me. I had to at least try. I wouldn’t let them see how insecure I was.

Lost in thought as I walked down the hallway, I didn’t notice someone coming around the corner until we collided. A sharp thud was followed by a cascade of papers and folders scattering to the ground. I stumbled back, startled, as the other person muttered a low curse.

“Watch where you’re going,” came a smooth, slightly annoyed voice.

Looking up, I realized it was Min Yoongi, arms now empty as he surveyed the mess with a raised eyebrow. He crouched down to gather the papers, his expression unreadable but somehow laced with that signature playful smugness he was known for. I noticed his brown locks of hair were a mess, it was almost as if he had just gotten up and rushed here. Well, probably after a call by Jungkook he had to rush here. He was late after all.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, immediately dropping to my knees to help collect the documents.

“You seem like you’ve got a lot on your mind,” he remarked casually, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye as he snatched up a folder near my hand. “Big plans? Or is brooding your thing now?”

I pressed my lips together, biting back a retort. His tone was teasing, but I couldn’t shake the lingering sting from Regina’s earlier comments.

“Just distracted,” I replied shortly, stacking the papers I’d gathered into a neat pile.

Yoongi’s lips quirked into a faint smirk. “Right. Distracted. Let me guess—you’re working on your master plan to snag a date for the ball? I am guessing you don't have one.” He leaned back on his heels, still crouched, and fixed me with a playful, knowing look.

I froze, his words cutting deeper than I expected, though his tone remained light.

When I didn’t respond, he tilted his head. “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you’re not going. Everyone’s talking about it. Even Tina’s got her claws in Jungkook.” His gaze flicked over me, his smirk sharpening. “Or is it that no one’s brave enough to take you?”

The heat rushed to my face, but I forced myself to look him in the eye. “Not everyone’s obsessed with finding a date, Yoongi,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“True,” he replied with a shrug, standing up and brushing off his hands. “But it’s a shame, you know? All dressed up, standing by yourself in the corner. It’s a picture-perfect Cinderella moment, minus the Prince Charming.”

I glared up at him, my hands gripping the stack of papers a little too tightly. “Thanks for the advice,” I said flatly, shoving the papers into his chest as I stood up and headed down the hall without waiting for him to say anything else.

The hum of the office felt louder than usual as I sat at my desk, trying to get through the endless list of tasks I had to finish before the end of the day. The masquerade ball loomed over me, but today, something about the atmosphere felt different. Maybe it was because I couldn’t stop replaying the conversation with Rya and Hoseok in my head. Maybe it was because deep down, I still wasn’t sure I belonged in that world? But in that moment, the phone in my hand buzzed, pulling me out of my spiral.

I glanced at the screen: Tae <3

I smiled to myself, swiping on the screen and gluing the phone to my ear. "Hey, Tae," I greeted, my voice a little lighter than it had been all day. Hearing his voice always made all the tiredness, worry and anxiety disappear.

"Hey, Y/N! I was just thinking about you," Taehyung’s warm, melodic voice greeted me through the phone. It was a comfort, like a hug I couldn’t see. "How are you doing?"

"Surviving, as always. Work’s a nightmare right now, and now there’s this whole masquerade ball thing. Honestly, I’m kind of dreading it."

He chuckled softly on the other end. "Yeah, I heard. It’s all anyone’s talking about. Are you going?"

I hesitated, fiddling with a pen on my desk. "Yeah. But I’m not exactly excited about it. Everyone’s got their dates… I don’t know, it feels like I’ll just end up standing awkwardly in the corner all night."

"Y/N," Taehyung said, his voice warm and reassuring, "you could show up wearing a potato sack, and you’d still outshine everyone. Don’t let those kinds of thoughts ruin it for you."

I smiled, the genuine kindness in his words making me feel lighter. "Thanks, Tae. You’re always so good at making me feel better."

There was a pause, and then his tone shifted, becoming more serious. "Actually, that’s kind of why I called. I was wondering if… well, if you’d want to go with me to the ball. As my date."

His words made my heart skip a beat, and I blinked, trying to process what he’d just said. "You’re serious?"

"Of course I am," he said, laughing softly. "I think it could be fun. We’d stick together, and I’ll make sure you have a great time. No pressure, though."

Before I could respond, a shadow fell over my desk, and I looked up to see Jungkook standing there. His arms were crossed, and his expression was calm—too calm.

"Work call?" he asked pointedly, raising an eyebrow.

"No," I replied, keeping my tone even, though I could feel the tension radiating off him. "It’s personal."

"You’re busy, then," he said, his voice almost teasing but carrying a hint of something sharper. "Too bad—I was going to tell you there’s something urgent you need to handle. Guess it can wait."

I narrowed my eyes at him, my grip on the phone tightening. "If it’s so urgent, why don’t you handle it?"

Jungkook’s jaw tensed, but before he could respond, Taehyung’s voice came through the phone, loud enough for Jungkook to hear. "Y/N? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it’s fine," I said quickly, brushing off Jungkook’s attempt to derail the conversation. "Sorry about that. So, you were saying…?"

"I was asking if you’d go to the ball with me," Taehyung said again, his voice warm but clearer now.

Jungkook’s expression shifted, his jaw tightening as he took in Taehyung’s words. His gaze darted to my phone, then back to me, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"That sounds great, Tae," I said, my voice bright despite the tension. "I’d love to go with you."

Jungkook’s reaction was immediate—his shoulders stiffened, and his eyes darkened, though he forced a sharp, insincere smile. "Perfect," he said, his tone icy. "I’m sure you and your friend will have a great time."

Before I could respond, he turned on his heel and stormed off, his steps echoing down the hallway.

"Y/N?" Taehyung’s voice broke through the silence, pulling my attention back to the phone. "Are you sure everything’s okay?"

"Yeah," I said, though my heart was racing. "It’s nothing. I'll talk to you later."

As I ended the call, I couldn’t shake the feeling of Jungkook’s reaction lingering in the air, like a storm brewing just beneath the surface. I was weirded out from the way he acted. Why was he so stingy for?

It was Friday afternoon, a two days after our meeting about that ball was held and the tension in the office seemed to be building, as if everyone was bracing themselves for the masquerade ball that was looming just days away. It was all anyone could talk about. Some of my coworkers were still obsessing over their outfits, while others were already talking about their plans.

I was organizing some documents at my desk, trying to stay focused despite the whirlwind of thoughts running through my mind about the masquerade ball. The idea of going felt daunting, especially when it seemed like everyone already had their perfect plans sorted out.

"Y/N," a low, familiar voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I looked up to see Yoongi leaning casually against the edge of my desk, his signature smirk playing on his lips. I frowned. He did not approach me unless it was work related. I wondered what was it this time.

"Hey," I said, surprised yet skeptical of his approach. "What’s up?"

He shrugged, glancing down at the papers I was shuffling. "Not much. Just… figured I’d check in."

I arched an eyebrow. "Check in? What for?"

Yoongi’s smirk grew, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—hesitation? Nerves? It was so subtle I almost missed it. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, his tone suddenly more casual. "You know, about the ball—"

"Y/N!" Rya’s voice rang out, cutting through Yoongi’s words like a sharp knife. I turned to see her bounding toward us, her excitement practically radiating off her.

Yoongi straightened, his smirk fading slightly as he stepped back, giving Rya room to invade the space.

"Hey, Rya," I said, trying not to sound annoyed at the interruption.

"I’ve been looking everywhere for you," Rya said, ignoring Yoongi entirely. "So, I had this amazing idea! We should totally go dress shopping together for the ball tomorrow. I know this great place, and we can make a whole day of it and then me, Hoseok and you can go out clubbing after? I am in a mood for some drinks!" Clubbing? Oh god. It has been what- years since I went there? Too much people, loud music and bodies bodies pressing against each other.

I glanced at Yoongi, who was watching the interaction with a blank expression, though his eyes betrayed his irritation.

"That sounds fun," I said, offering Rya a small smile. "I will think about the clubbing part tho."

Rya grinned, nodding her head, yet she finally noticed Yoongi standing there. "Oh, hey. Didn’t see you. What are you doing here?"

"Just talking to Y/N," he said, his tone clipped. "But I’ll let you two get back to your plans."

With that, he turned and walked away, his usual calm demeanor masking whatever frustration he might have felt.

I watched him leave, a strange pang of guilt tugging at me. Had he been about to ask something important?

"Isn’t it great?" Rya said, pulling me back into the moment. "We’ll find the perfect dress for you. You’re going to look amazing."

"Yeah," I said, forcing a smile, though my mind was still on Yoongi and the words he hadn’t gotten a chance to say.

The soft hum of the mall's ambient music barely registered as Rya and I made our way through the racks of dresses. The neon lights overhead cast a warm glow over everything, but my mind was far from the sparkly fabrics hanging in front of me. We’d been at it for what felt like hours, and I was still having trouble settling on anything that felt like me. The ball was a week away and I was a ball of anxiety.

"How about this one?" Rya asked, holding up a shimmering emerald green dress, the fabric catching the light. She seemed determined to find something that would make me stand out—something that would make me feel like I belonged.

I shook my head, glancing over the dress with a hesitant frown. "It’s pretty, but I don't know... I think it’s a bit too much." I sighed, tugging at my sleeve. "I'm just not sure I want to be noticed that much, you know?"

Rya raised an eyebrow, her fingers still gripping the hanger. "You're seriously telling me you're going to let some people in the office make you feel like you don't deserve to be seen?" She shook her head, pushing the dress aside. "No way. You deserve to wear something that makes you feel confident, strong and sexy."

I smiled weakly, appreciating her effort to boost me, but inside, I felt like I was just pretending. None of it mattered when the people at work—especially Jungkook and Yoongi—were still constantly tearing me down.

As I stared at the dresses in the store, Rya’s voice cut through the silence, a casual comment that made my head snap up.

“You know, I have noticed that the Boss and Yoongi act weird lately,” she said, her voice light but with a hint of something else—curiosity?

I turned to face her, my brow furrowing in confusion. "Weird? What do you mean?"

Rya set down a dress she had been holding, turning toward me with a knowing look. “I’m just saying, I’ve seen the way they’ve been acting around you. They’ve both tried to approach you, Y/N, and it seemed like they were going to invite you to the ball.”

I blinked, completely taken aback. "What? Yoongi and Jungkook? Invite me?" I laughed, the sound more disbelieving than amused. "That’s ridiculous. Why would they even do that?"

Rya’s expression didn’t falter, but there was a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. “I don’t know, but it’s not like them. They’ve never been this... friendly with you before. And it’s not just me—other people have noticed it too. It’s like they’re genuinely interested in you.”

My stomach twisted uncomfortably. The thought of Yoongi and Jungkook—two people who had made a habit of mocking me—suddenly being “interested” in me was too much to process.

“No, Rya. I don’t buy it,” I said, shaking my head. "They’ve always treated me like crap. They’ve made fun of me for months, and now suddenly they want to take me to the ball? No way."

Rya didn’t seem convinced. “But why would they bother trying to invite you if they didn’t care at all? It doesn’t make sense. Maybe they’re actually—"

I cut her off, frustration creeping into my voice. "Rya, this isn’t about attraction. It’s probably some stupid game to them, a way to mess with me. They’re probably seeing who can get the ‘fat girl’ first and have a good laugh at my expense."

Rya looked at me seriously, like she wanted to argue, but she seemed to understand that I wasn’t in the mood to hear it. "I get it. I just wanted to point out that something feels different this time."

I let out a small, bitter laugh. "Yeah, well, if it is different, I don’t want to be part of it. They’ve always been cruel. That’s not going to change just because they want a date for the ball."

Rya sighed, clearly frustrated but still patient. “I understand, Y/N. I just want you to know that you’re worth more than their games, okay?” She gave me a reassuring smile. “I’m here for you. And this dress? It’s perfect for you.”

I took the dress she offered me, holding it against my body as I studied myself in the mirror.The royal blue dress shimmered softly under the light, its rich color catching my eye right away. The off-shoulder neckline framed my shoulders perfectly, while the fabric crossed gently over the bodice, and I knew that it was going to hug the shape of my body in just the right way. The sleeves were long and smooth, giving it an elegant feel, and the skirt flowed down from the waist, simple but beautiful as it brushed the floor. The material was soft and comfortable in my hands, with just enough weight to feel secure but not heavy. As I turned, the dress moved with me, flowing naturally and making me feel like I could wear it anywhere and still feel amazing. It wasn’t just a dress—it felt like it belonged to me.

Rya leaned against the doorframe, watching as I studied myself in the mirror. Her knowing smile made me feel both self-conscious and reassured. “You'd look incredible wearing it,” she said softly, her voice cutting through the haze of doubt clouding my mind. “You’d turn every head at the ball in that.”

I placed the dress down gently, avoiding her gaze. “I am not used to all the attention...”

She straightened, folding her arms as her tone shifted into something more persuasive. “Y/N, when are you going to stop letting their crap define what you do? You’ve always been better than that, and now? You’ve got the chance to show it.”

I sighed, running my hand over the fabric of the dress again. “It’s not that easy, Rya.”

“What is?” she shot back. “Look, if the ball feels too messy, fine. But tonight? Come out with me and Hoseok. No pressure, no expectations. Just a night to breathe, dance, and remind yourself that you’re allowed to take up space without caring what anyone else thinks.”

I hesitated, biting my lip as I looked at her. “I don’t know if I’m really in the mood for clubbing.”

She tilted her head, her smile turning sly. “Oh, please. We both know you need this. Hoseok’s got the energy of ten people, and he already said he’d buy the first round. Plus,” she added, leaning in conspiratorially, “you know you’ve been dying to see what he’s like on the dance floor.” Hoseok had mentioned that before he became a Social Media Specialist, he was owning a dance studio downtown and he was the best of them all. However, he had to shut the studio down due to lack of money. Which was unfortunate. Everyone deserved to follow their dreams.

I laughed despite myself. “Fine, maybe that’s true. But I don’t even know what I’d wear.”

Rya’s eyes lit up, sensing victory. “I’ll help you pick something out. Something killer. And trust me, when you’re out there, laughing with us, and feeling like the badass you are, you’ll be glad you said yes.”

I let out a long breath, shaking my head. “Okay, okay. I’ll come. But if Hoseok tries to drag me into one of his ridiculous dance battles, I’m blaming you.”

Her grin widened as she clapped her hands together. “Deal. Now after we chose a dress for you, let’s get you ready to turn some heads for tonight.”

The evening had settled in, and it was finally Saturday night—an evening I had been both anticipating and dreading. A few hours ago, Rya and I had spent what felt like an eternity picking out dresses. After much back-and-forth, I had found the perfect one: the royal blue dress that fit me like a glove. It shimmered softly under the light and made me feel like I was someone else—someone confident and powerful. It was a far cry from the usual clothes I’d wear, but something about it felt right and elegant.

I’d also grabbed a few other things for tonight—something a bit more casual for the club, but still fitting the vibe. Rya had promised me a good time, and I figured I might as well go with it. I hadn’t really done anything fun for myself in a long time, and the club seemed like the perfect way to break out of the monotony.

Sitting in my apartment now, I relaxed into the couch with Hades curled up beside me. I had a few hours before Rya and Hoseok would pick me up—around eleven—but the anticipation of what the night might bring was already starting to settle in my stomach. The drinks were free, the entrance was covered until midnight, and they were headed to one of the most famous clubs called "Devil's Dreads", known for its great music and even better drinks. Hoseok had practically been vibrating with excitement as soon as he heard that I was coming clubbing with him and Rya tonight, and it was hard not to get caught up in his energy.

I was just about to reach for my phone when it buzzed on the coffee table. The caller ID showed “Mom & Dad” and I smiled despite myself. I hadn’t spoken to them in a few days, and I figured it was the right time to check in.

“Hey, Mom! Hey, Dad!” I answered, sitting up and adjusting my position on the couch. Hades stirred but didn’t get up, just snuggling closer to my side.

“Y/N, my love! How are you?” my mom’s familiar voice came through the phone, warm and comforting. “You’ve been so busy lately. Have you been eating enough?”

I laughed softly, rolling my eyes. “I’m fine, Mom. Don’t worry. Just work, you know? It’s been a little hectic.”

“You always say that,” my dad’s voice chimed in, his deep tone carrying an affectionate teasing. “Tell us something fun. What’s been going on with you?”

I smiled, glancing around my small apartment. “Well, actually, there’s a company masquerade a week from now. It’s for work. We’ve been working on a big project, and uh Taehyung called me and invited me to be his date since he is going as well.”

There was a noticeable pause on the other end, followed by the sound of my mom speaking quietly with my dad in their native language.

My dad’s voice came as an answer a few moments later, a little more serious now. “Y/N, we’ve known Taehyung since you were little. He’s a good man. And we’ve seen how much he cares for you.”

The weight of his words hit me unexpectedly. “I—Dad, I don’t think…” I trailed off, not knowing how to respond. I had never thought about Taehyung in that way. He was just my friend, someone who had been there for me when no one else was.

My mom’s voice softened, a tone I knew well from years of gentle guidance. “Sweetheart, sometimes the person who cares for you most is the one who’s been there for you all along. Not the ones who just chase after you when you look good in a dress.”

I let out a soft sigh, sinking deeper into the couch, unsure how to take their words. “Mom, I don’t know. I’m not ready for that kind of thing, especially not with Taehyung. We’ve been friends for so long. I don’t want to mess that up.”

There was a moment of silence, and I could almost picture my mom’s thoughtful expression. “We’re not trying to push you, darling. We just want you to be happy. But don’t close yourself off to the possibility just because you’re scared of what might happen.”

I swallowed hard, feeling a lump in my throat. “I’ll think about it,” I said quietly. “But for now, I’m just focused on work.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” my dad said, his voice reassuring as always. “Just remember to enjoy yourself. You deserve it.”

“I’ll talk to you both soon, okay?”

“Take care of yourself, Y/N,” my mom said. “And have fun at the ball. We’ll be waiting to hear all about it!”

“I love you guys, bye.” I said, hanging up the phone, feeling a mix of warmth and confusion. The conversation had been more than I expected, and now I couldn’t stop thinking about what they had said.

As I sat there in the quiet of my apartment, Hades curled up beside me once again, I found myself lost in thought. Taehyung? Could he really have feelings for me? I’d always seen him as a friend, but my parents seemed so sure. It felt like the idea came out of nowhere, and yet... maybe there was something to it.

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I didn’t know if I was ready to confront that possibility, but for tonight, I had a night out with Rya and Hoseok to look forward to. Maybe I just needed to focus on that for now—enjoy myself, let loose, and stop overthinking everything.

Rya and Hoseok were picking me up in just a few hours. The drinks were free, the club was waiting, and I wasn’t going to let any of my doubts ruin the night. For once, I was going to let go and enjoy the ride.

It had been ages since I’d stepped foot into a club. The pulsating bass, the kaleidoscope of lights, the hum of people enjoying the night—it all felt foreign yet oddly thrilling. Devil’s Dreads was a sight to behold, unlike any club I’d ever been to. The VIP section on the second floor, where we were seated, offered the perfect balance of exclusivity and immersion. From here, we had a clear view of the stage bathed in fiery orange and violet hues, with sleek, futuristic lighting patterns that pulsed in time with the music. The plush, deep purple couches I sank into were ridiculously comfortable, making it feel less like a club and more like some hidden lounge in a sci-fi movie.

Looking down at the main floor, I could see the crowd moving like waves to the hypnotic beats. But up here, it was quiet enough to hold a conversation without shouting, which was a luxury I didn’t know I needed until now.

Rya was the first to order. She went all out with something bold—a sparkling martini topped with edible glitter. It matched her red short dress perfectly, shimmering under the soft light like it was made just for her. I laughed when she held it up for a dramatic toast, the red matching sequins of her dress making her look like she belonged on the stage herself. Her dirty blonde hair was curled just perfectly, lifted in a messy bun style — Pamela Anderson. And her make up did not disappoint, dark, smoky and sexy, fitting her dark blue eyes perfectly.

Hoseok, being Hoseok, opted for a vodka on ice and an old-fashioned style of outfit. It was simple, strong, and sophisticated, just like him. His black button-down shirt with those subtle gold accents caught the light in just the right way, making him look like he belonged in a magazine ad for luxury watches or cologne. He wore black ripped jeans and his hair was messily styled. He looked like an model.

And then there was me. I scanned the menu nervously, feeling the weight of their expectations. It had been so long since I’d ordered a drink at a club, I wasn’t sure what I wanted. My eyes landed on something fruity and innocent-sounding—a cocktail called Strawberry Dream. The description promised a blend of strawberries, peach, and a “whisper” of vodka. Perfect. I didn’t want to get hammered on the first drink.

But, boy, was it deceiving. Rya had managed to pick the perfect dress for me. Firstly, I never wore something so short, and secondly, I almost never was opting for dresses. Jeans were more comfortable for me, but in this case, I loved how this dress fitted me.

I felt bold and my dress definitely matched the vibe. The black mini-dress I chose hugged my curves perfectly, the structured bodice giving it a corset-like edge that made me feel powerful. The neckline was the real star, though—crisscross straps framing my shoulders and collarbones in a way that was sultry but still sophisticated. The long sleeves balanced the look, keeping it sleek and elegant, while the fabric clung just right, making me feel like the main character.

I paired it with gold hoop earrings for a touch of glam, a natural make up made by myself and my hair was curled in beautiful long curls that framed my features, which gave me this effortless, confident vibe. As I glanced at myself in the reflection of my drink, I couldn’t help but smile—I looked like I belonged in a place like this.

We didn’t waste much time lounging. Once our drinks arrived, the music pulled us in. Rya was already dragging me up to dance, and Hoseok followed close behind. It felt freeing to let go for a while, to sway to the music and laugh until my sides hurt. I sipped my cocktail in between songs, the sweetness of the drink making it go down far too easily. Before I knew it, I was on my third glass, and the room was beginning to tilt—not in a bad way, but in that warm, buzzy, I’m-gonna-regret-this-tomorrow way. -

The music was pounding through my body, the bass so heavy it felt like it was syncing with my heartbeat. Hoseok and Rya were right there with me, the three of us lost in the rhythm, moving to the beat like we didn’t have a care in the world. The alcohol buzzing through me made everything feel lighter, almost dreamlike. The edges of the room seemed to blur as I twirled under the neon lights, laughing at something Hoseok said, though I couldn’t hear a word over the music.

That’s when I felt it—a hand on my waist, warm and unfamiliar.

I turned, a little dazed, to find a man I didn’t recognize standing close. Too close. His smile was charming enough, but the way his hand lingered made my stomach twist uncomfortably. Still, the cocktails had softened my edges, and my better judgment was slow to catch up. He leaned in, his lips moving as he said something I couldn’t hear over the music. Before I knew it, I was swaying with him, letting him guide my movements.

It was harmless, right? Just a little dancing. At least, that’s what my tipsy brain told me as I let myself follow his lead. But then his hand moved lower, settling on my hip, and a quiet alarm bell rang in the back of my mind. I froze for a second, unsure what to do, but before I could even process the situation, Rya and Hoseok were already on it.

“Hey!” Rya’s voice was sharp, cutting through the music like a knife. She stepped forward, placing herself squarely between me and the guy. Her sequin-covered arm reached out, pushing his hand away from me with more force than I expected.

Hoseok wasn’t far behind, his easygoing smile replaced with something steely and firm. “She’s with us,” he said, his voice calm but carrying an edge that made it clear he wasn’t asking. “Back off.”

The man raised his hands in mock surrender, a lazy smirk on his face. “Alright, alright,” he said, backing up, but his eyes lingered on me for a second too long before he disappeared into the crowd.

I blinked, feeling the haze of alcohol and adrenaline mix into a confusing swirl. “What just happened?” I muttered, my words slurring slightly.

Rya looped an arm around my shoulders, her expression softening as she guided me back toward our booth. “You were letting some random creep get a little too close,” she said gently but firmly.

“Yeah,” Hoseok added, his tone lighter now that the guy was gone. “You’re lucky you have us to keep an eye on you.”

I let out a weak laugh, grateful but also embarrassed. “I didn’t even realize…”

“It’s the cocktails,” Rya said knowingly, giving me a reassuring smile. “That’s why we’re here, though. To make sure you’re good.”

As we made our way back to the VIP booth, I could still feel the ghost of the guy’s hand on my waist, but it was fading now, replaced by a warm sense of gratitude. Rya and Hoseok weren’t just my friends—they were my safety net. And right now, I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

I leaned back against the balcony railing, catching my breath, when the familiar face in the crowd below stopped me cold. At first, I thought it was just my tipsy brain playing tricks on me. But no. It was him.

Yoongi.

My stomach did a weird flip as I watched him stride through the main entrance like he owned the place. His tailored black blazer and crisp shirt beneath screamed confidence, and his sharp gaze scanned the crowd with ease.

His eyes landed on me—on us—and widened slightly. I couldn’t tell if it was surprise or amusement that crossed his face first, but by the time he started walking toward our booth, his signature smirk had taken over.

“What brings you all here?” he asked casually as he reached us, his voice low enough to compete with the music but still clear. He looked between the three of us, his expression unreadable.

Hoseok, ever the social butterfly, clapped him on the shoulder. “What, are we not allowed to hang out at the best place in town?”

Yoongi raised a brow, clearly entertained. “You have good taste. But from the looks of it…” He motioned toward the now-empty cocktail glasses on our table. “...you’re drinking like tourists.”

I flushed under his gaze. “Excuse me,” I said, my words slightly slurred, “but I’ll have you know this drink was amazing.”

Yoongi’s lips twitched, and he leaned in just enough to make my breath hitch. “Amazing, huh? You might want to pace yourself. Those are just the appetizers.”

It was then that it hit me. The way he carried himself, the way the staff seemed to acknowledge him without a word, the way he spoke like he owned the place…

“Wait,” I blurted out, blinking through the haze of tipsiness. “Do you… own this place?”

The smirk deepened, and he straightened up, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Figured it out, did you?” He looked entirely too smug. “Welcome to Devil’s Dreads. My little slice of chaos.”

271 notes · View notes

luvashli · 5 months ago

Text

ESCAPISM PART 3

SYNOPSIS -> You left to find yourself—now they’re the ones chasing. Changed and desperate, Heeseung and Ni-ki want you back, but this time, you make the rules.

PAIRING -> non!idol!ni-ki x fem!reader x non!idol!heeseung

GENRE -> oneshot, smut, romance, drama, love triangle, mature

WARNING -> SMUT (p in v), threesome, unprotected sex, spit, dom!reader, sub!ni-ki, sub!heeseung, powerplay, oral (f), oral (m)… MDNI!!

STARTED -> 2/15/2025

STATUS -> completed

WC -> 11.5k

Note: Not only is this the longest chapter/ story i have ever written but it’s also the very first full smut I’ve ever written, let me know what you think… :)

click here for part 1 & part 2

Masterlist

Change isn’t easy.

Heeseung learns this the hard way, sitting in the sterile office of his therapist, hands clenched into fists on his lap. The clock on the wall ticks endlessly, the air heavy with words he doesn’t know how to say.

“How have you been sleeping?” Dr. Jeon asks, voice gentle, as if she already knows the answer.

Heeseung huffs a humorless laugh, leaning back into the leather couch. “Does it count as sleeping if you wake up every hour?”

Dr. Jeon doesn’t react, simply jotting something down in her notebook. Heeseung wonders what she writes about him. Insomniac. Self-sabotaging. Emotionally stunted.

He already knows all that.

He runs a hand down his face, sighing. “It’s been… quiet,” he admits.

She hums. “Quiet, or lonely?”

His throat tightens.

Lonely. So lonely.

Heeseung doesn’t say it, but she sees through him anyway. He hates how easy he is to read here, in this room, under her knowing gaze. It’s nothing like before, when he could brush things off, pretend he wasn’t falling apart.

Before, there was Y/N.

Before, he had her warmth beside him at night. The sound of her voice filling his apartment, the way she’d roll her eyes at his bad jokes but still laugh anyway.

Before, he was so sure she’d never leave.

And now?

Now, he sits alone in his too-big bed, staring at his ceiling, wondering if she’s sleeping better than him. If she ever thinks about him at all. If she knows how hard he’s trying to be better.

Dr. Jeon‘s voice breaks through his thoughts. “Tell me about her.”

Heeseung swallows.

Where does he even begin?

“She was…” He hesitates, staring at the floor. “She was everything.”

The words taste like regret.

Dr. Jeon waits, watching him closely. Heeseung shifts under her gaze, fingers twitching. “I don’t think I realized how much she meant to me until she was gone.”

Dr. Jeon tilts her head. “And now?”

Now, she’s still everything.

Now, he’s trying to fix himself, but it might be too late.

Now, he can’t stop picturing the way she looked at him the last time they spoke—like he was a stranger.

“I just…” His voice cracks. He rubs at his face. “I don’t want to be the man I was before.”

It’s the closest he’ll ever get to saying I want to be the man she deserves.

Dr. Jeon offers a small nod. “That’s a good place to start.”

But even as Heeseung leaves the session, stepping into the cold evening air, he knows the truth.

But what does it matter if Y/N isn’t here to see it?

No amount of therapy will bring Y/N back if she doesn’t want him anymore.

She’s everywhere and nowhere all at once. In the faint memory of her laugh, in the spaces between his fingers where hers used to fit, in the ache in his chest whenever he reaches for his phone and stops himself from dialing her number.

He wants to tell her.

Wants to prove he’s changed.

Wants to beg for another chance.

But Y/N doesn’t owe him anything.

So he suffers in silence.

---

Ni-ki hates the silence.

Before, his nights were loud—filled with music, laughter, the sound of strangers whispering his name. Distractions. Easy. Thoughtless.

Now?

Now, the quiet is suffocating.

He stares at his phone, scrolling past old messages, old habits, old mistakes. His contact list is filled with names of people he barely remembers—numbers he could dial if he wanted company, if he wanted a warm body beside him.

But he doesn’t. Not anymore.

The hookups stopped after Y/N.

No more hookups, no more meaningless distractions. Just empty nights and a realization that nothing feels right anymore.

Not because she asked him to, not because there was ever a promise between them. But because after her, everything else felt pointless.

At first, he told himself he was fine. That Y/N was just another girl, that what they had was just fun. But then he’d see her in his mind—really see her—laughing, teasing, her lips swollen from his kisses, her body pressed against his.

And suddenly, it wasn’t fun anymore.

She wasn’t just another girl.

And now, it’s too late.

She wasn’t like the others.

She was a slow burn, a fire that built up over time, turning his skin feverish and his mind reckless. She made him feel.

And now, she’s gone.

Ni-ki grips his phone tighter, fighting the urge to text her. He won’t. He can’t. She made her choice, and he has to live with it.

Instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets and walks. Nowhere in particular, just away. From his empty apartment, from the ache in his chest, from the memories he can’t erase.

Maybe if he keeps walking, he’ll stop feeling like a ghost of himself.

Maybe one day, the silence won’t hurt so much.

---

The next few weeks of your life felt like a quiet but powerful rebirth. You woke up every morning with the sunrise, the soft glow of sunlight seeping through the curtains of your newly decorated apartment. It was small, yet cozy, and every item in it was carefully chosen, each piece a reminder of your growth, your independence. Your fingers ran over the warm mug of coffee in your hands, and you smiled softly to yourself as you sipped it, watching the world outside your window.

Your routine had become second nature to you now. You went to the gym every morning, pushing herself harder than ever, feeling the strength of your own body grow with every rep. Your mind, too, was growing. You had learned to embrace the quiet, the solitude, the feeling of your own company without the noise of your past relationships clouding your thoughts. You felt good. And, for the first time in a long time, you felt truly free.

As much as you had learned to embrace your independence, there was still a small part of you that couldn’t quite shake the ache left by Heeseung and Ni-ki. You had moved on, sure, but you couldn’t deny the fact that they were still in the back of your mind, lingering in the corners of your thoughts like an unfinished chapter. But you refused to let that stop you. You were thriving, you she knew that even though they might always be a part of you, they would never define you again.

Today, as you walked through the door of your favorite café, you felt the warmth of familiarity wrap around you like a comfort blanket. You greeted the barista with a smile before sitting at your usual spot by the window. The place was bustling with the hum of quiet chatter, the clinking of coffee cups, and the soft background music. You pulled out your laptop, opening it to get some work done. It was the kind of life you had always wanted – peaceful, centered, and full of small moments that felt meaningful.

You didn’t let yourself linger too long on thoughts of the past. Your focus was on the present. You had a new project in the works, one you were excited about, something that would push your creative boundaries. The glow of productivity filled you, and you quickly immersed yourself in the work. Time flew by without noticing, and soon the afternoon sun was dipping low in the sky.

As the evening approached, you received a text from one of your friends. They had been planning a party at a trendy downtown club for the past few days, and it was finally happening tonight.

“Tonight’s the night, Y/N! Come out and celebrate with us!” the message read. “You need a night out!”

You hesitated for a moment. You hadn’t been out in a while, not like this. But something about the invitation felt right. You deserved a night of fun, of letting loose. The truth was, you was excited. It had been too long since you had felt the heat of a crowded dance floor, the rush of music pulsing through your veins. The last few months had been full of healing and self-reflection, but now, it was time to feel something different—something wild.

So you quickly texted back, “I’m in.”

---

Standing in front of your closet, a deep sigh escaping your lips as you examined the options. The room around was filled with the quiet hum of anticipation. It had been a while since you’d put this much thought into what to wear, but tonight felt different. Tonight wasn’t just another party—it was a step forward, a declaration of how far you’d come.

Your fingers traced over the fabric of a tight black dress, one that accentuated every curve, its simple elegance radiating confidence. Almost feeling the eyes of everyone in the room on you already—on your body, on your energy. You smirked at the reflection. The girl staring back at you wasn’t the same as the one from months ago. This version of yourself was fierce. Self-assured. Powerful. And tonight, she was going to own the room.

The sound of a phone vibrating on the nightstand interrupted your thoughts. After picking it up, another friend’s name lighting up the screen.

“Y/N! You coming to the party tonight or what?” the message read.

You smiled, tapping your fingers across the screen replying, “Yeah, I’m in.”

Still not entirely sure what awaited you at the party. But one thing was for sure—this time, you were in control.

Turning back to finish getting ready, you thought of the two people who would also be at the party, though you had no idea how close they were to each other now. But there was something about tonight, something about being free from the past, that made you curious.

But tonight wasn’t about them, not yet. Tonight was about you reclaiming your own space, enjoying yourself without apologies.

After applying the final touches of makeup, a bold lipstick that matched your mood, and smirking at your reflection one last time, you left your apartment.

Tonight would be yours.

---

The music blasted through the speakers as you stepped into the club, your heels clicking against the marble floor with every confident stride you took. The strobe lights flickered overhead, casting brief, electric shadows that seemed to make the entire room pause for a split second. Your presence was undeniable. Every eye in the club was drawn to you as though the very air shifted when you entered.

You were wearing a tight, black dress that clung to your body in all the right ways. It hugged your waist and flared slightly at the hips, the fabric smooth against your skin, barely concealing the curves of your body. The neckline of the dress dipped low, teasing without revealing too much, just enough to catch the eye. The fabric shimmered under the club lights, drawing attention to your toned figure—your legs, long and smooth, the curve of your hips, the softness of your waist, the way your body seemed to sway with an effortless sensuality as you walked.

Your hair cascaded down in soft waves, the deep, rich color contrasting against your glowing skin. Your eyes, framed with a subtle but striking makeup, scanned the room with the confidence of someone who knew exactly what effect they had. Your lips, painted a bold shade of red, were just daring enough to leave others wondering if they were meant to be kissed.

You weren’t just walking into the club; you were owning it. You moved through the crowd like you were meant to be the center of attention, every man and woman turning their heads as you passed. The whispers and glances followed you, some too obvious to ignore, others hidden behind the shadows of the dance floor.

At the bar, Heeseung and Ni-ki stood side by side, both men caught in the same unexpected moment. They had no idea how to react. It had been months since they’d last seen you, and the sight of you now—this stunning version of yourself, so much more powerful and confident than before—stopped them in their tracks.

Heeseung’s gaze flickered first, his lips parting slightly as his breath caught. He knew he shouldn’t be staring—shouldn’t be thinking the thoughts that were now running wild in his mind. But he couldn’t help it. The woman in front of him wasn’t the girl who had once been caught up in the whirlwind of their toxic relationship. This version of you was something else entirely. You weren’t just beautiful—you were untouchable, exuding a kind of raw, magnetic energy that made his chest tighten. His fingers itched to reach out, to pull you into his arms, but he held himself back. Out of respect. He knew better than to make a move now.

Ni-ki, standing just a few feet away, was in a similar state of disbelief. His thoughts ran wild as he watched you walk across the club, your body moving in a way that left his mouth dry. Damn. The memory of your one-night-stand was still fresh in his mind, but seeing you now, so confident, so poised, made his chest tighten in a different way. You were everything. His eyes followed every inch of you as you made your way to the dance floor, the sway of your hips sending jolts of desire through his body. He knew he shouldn’t be feeling this way—especially with Heeseung so close—but he couldn’t stop himself.

The men exchanged a glance, the unspoken tension between them thick enough to cut through the air. Neither of them said anything, but both knew—tonight wasn’t going to be easy.

You, for your part, weren’t oblivious to the heat of their gazes. You felt the weight of their attention, but it only added to your sense of power. You were the one in control now, and it felt damn good.

You turned your head slightly, your eyes locking with Heeseung’s for just a moment, then flicking to Ni-ki. The subtle shift in your gaze made both men stiffen, a pang of recognition hitting them hard in their chests. Neither one moved closer, though; they both understood the unspoken rule of the night—they would respect your space. But that didn’t stop the fire in their veins, the growing hunger that neither could quench.

You continued your stride, your hips swaying hypnotically, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips as you made your way deeper into the club. The scene was set—you were here, in control, and they were just two players in the game.

---

You were lost in the music, your body swaying to the beat, when a man approached you. His presence was immediate, confident, and his smile was charming. His eyes scanned you from head to toe with a look that could only be described as appreciative, as if he had found exactly what he was looking for.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and smooth, “I’ve been watching you all night, and I have to say, you’ve got some serious energy. How about we dance?”

You paused for a moment, taking in his appearance—a tall, broad-shouldered man with a well-tailored shirt that hugged his frame. He looked good, no doubt. For a brief second, you considered the offer, but the beat of the music pulled you back into the moment. Why not? you thought. You could have some fun.

Without hesitation, you flashed him a smile. “Sure,” you said, your tone playful.

He grinned, stepping closer, guiding you onto the dance floor as the music pulsed through the club. The man’s hands settled on your waist, and you could feel the heat from his body as you moved together. His rhythm was decent, but nothing you hadn’t seen before. You danced with confidence, your body moving freely, but there was a part of you that remained detached.

You glanced back at Heeseung and Ni-ki, catching both of their gazes once more. The jealousy in their eyes was unmistakable, but it was different now. There was no possessiveness, no anger—only a quiet understanding, a reluctance to claim what wasn’t theirs to hold. They weren’t rushing over to make their move. They weren’t jumping to dictate what you could or couldn’t do.

That was new. The realization hit you like a slow wave. Both of them had changed. Not just in the way they looked at you, but in the way they seemed to respect your space. It was as if, for the first time, they understood that you weren’t someone to be fought over, but someone to be valued. Someone to be given the freedom to make your own decisions. And even though you felt their presence, you could breathe easier knowing they weren’t going to push you.

You swallowed, a small, appreciative smile crossing your lips. You didn’t need anyone’s validation. You were the one in control now, but the shift in the men—the way they had grown—didn’t go unnoticed. It made you think. Maybe there was hope for them, but only if you were ready to make the call. Only if they kept proving that they weren’t the same boys who had hurt you before.

As the minutes passed, the attraction you had briefly felt started to fade. His touch, while not unwelcome, didn’t stir anything deep within you. The music was still loud, and you could feel the energy around you, but all you could focus on was how much you felt the weight of Heeseung and Ni-ki’s gazes from across the room.

You glanced over your shoulder, locking eyes with Ni-ki first. His expression was unreadable, his gaze steady, but something in his eyes flickered—a brief hint of something you couldn’t quite place. Then your eyes found Heeseung. He stood with his arms crossed, his jaw clenched, watching you with an intensity that made your stomach flip. His eyes weren’t angry, though. They were… questioning.

The weight of their attention pulled at you, but the man’s hand on your waist brought you back to reality. You looked at him, realizing you weren’t interested—not in the way he wanted.

The dance was nice, but it was hollow. Your heart wasn’t in it.

After a few more moments of forced movement, you finally pulled back, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Hey, I’m going to take a break,” you said, your voice casual, though your insides churned. “Thanks for the dance, though.”

The man raised an eyebrow, surprised, but offered a smooth nod. “Of course,” he said with a grin. “Enjoy yourself.”

You gave him a polite nod and walked away, stepping off the dance floor with a sense of relief. You didn’t look back at him, but the moment you turned your gaze back to where Heeseung and Ni-ki were standing, you caught them watching you. Neither of them moved, but their eyes met yours again, and the tension between them was palpable.

You paused for a moment, feeling the weight of their unspoken words hanging in the air. But this time, you didn’t feel trapped. You didn’t feel like you owed anyone anything, not the man, not Heeseung, and certainly not Ni-ki.

You walked toward the bar, shaking off the remnants of the dance. This was your night. You didn’t need to please anyone, not even yourself. Tonight, you were free to be exactly who you wanted to be.

---

You sat at the bar, your fingers grazing the rim of your glass as you let the cool liquid settle in front of you. The faint hum of music echoed throughout the club, but it was the low murmur of conversation around you that pulled your focus inwards. You were more aware than ever of the gaze that lingered on you from across the room. Heeseung and Ni-ki. The tension between them, the heat in their eyes, was unmistakable.

You could feel their stares on you, even as you kept your gaze fixed downward, swirling the drink in your hand. You weren’t foolish enough to ignore the pull you felt towards them—towards both of them. The problem now was how much you’d changed. How much you had grown. You’d spent months finding yourself, growing into the confident person you now were. The person who didn’t need to be defined by anyone else’s affection, not even by two men you once thought could hold you together.

But still, the pull of desire was there, a fire simmering under your skin as you remembered the passion, the tension, the way your body responded to their touch. A quick glance up from the drink confirmed what you already knew. They were still watching. It was like they couldn’t look away, couldn’t stop themselves from admiring the person you had become.

Your heart twisted at the thought. No more manipulation. No more games. This wasn’t the same dynamic anymore. They had changed—both of them. And so had you. But even though you knew what was best for you, it didn’t stop the temptation to feel wanted, to see them both fall apart for you. They were desperate. They were *whiny*—needing you, craving you in a way that sent warmth curling through your stomach.

And damn, did you love the control it gave you.

The music thudded louder in your ears as you took another slow sip of your drink. The temptation to look over, to meet their gazes, to see if they were still waiting for a signal from you, was almost unbearable. But you held back. You weren’t going to make this easy. Not for them.

Your fingers curled around the glass, tightening, before you finally gave in—just a little. You took a deep breath and raised your eyes.

They were still watching, their eyes locked onto you as if their very existence depended on it. Heeseung, a bit more reserved, but his gaze was hungry, desperate. Ni-ki, the younger one, a little more brazen, his expression full of longing, his hands twitching as if he wanted to reach out but was holding himself back. And as your eyes met theirs, you could almost feel the weight of their desire pressing against you, like a magnetic pull that refused to be ignored.

You stared at them for a beat longer than necessary. Your lips curved up into a small, knowing smile, just enough to tease.

Then, without breaking eye contact, you slowly raised your hand and pointed directly at them.

Both men froze. Their eyes widened. They exchanged a brief, almost imperceptible look between each other, but neither of them moved—not until they saw the slight smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

That was it. That was all it took. Your simple gesture, your subtle command, had shattered whatever control they thought they had left.

And in that instant, both men broke.

Heeseung stood, his body tense, his breath shallow. He took a step toward you, then another, and another, the space between you closing rapidly. Ni-ki was right behind him, just as desperate, just as hungry.

They rushed toward you with a desperation that both thrilled and overwhelmed you. You watched them, your heart pounding as you felt the heat rise in your chest. You didn’t have to say anything. They had already learned what it meant to follow your lead.

The goosebumps along your skin prickled as they reached you, standing on either side, so close now you could feel the tension in the air between them. It was suffocating in the best way. Your power, your control over the situation, was undeniable.

For a moment, no one moved. The space between you was charged, humming with need, with desperation. They were waiting for you, as if they couldn’t take another breath without you giving them permission.

And that was when it hit you—how far they had both fallen, how much they had changed for you. The men you once thought had nothing to offer you were now completely at your mercy, and it felt good. So good.

This was what you had earned. This was your moment. You weren’t going to let them control you anymore.

Not now.

Not ever.

But you could let them want you. You could make them beg. And, oh, how you loved the idea of that.

You tilted your head slightly, your gaze shifting between them as a slow, deliberate smile spread across your lips. “You both know why you’re here,” you murmured, your voice low, almost taunting.

Heeseung’s chest rose and fell with every breath, his expression tense as if he were holding himself back from doing something he didn’t quite know he should. Ni-ki’s lips parted, and his eyes glittered with something darker, a rawness you hadn’t seen in him before.

Neither man spoke, but their eyes told you everything. They were both waiting. Waiting for you to take control. Waiting for you to make the first move.

And so, you did.

The bass reverberates through the floor as you rise from your seat without a word. You don’t need to say anything— you know they’re watching, know their bodies are already wound tight with anticipation. Your hips sway naturally, deliberately, as you step onto the dancefloor. The air is thick, pulsing with heat and music, but the real tension lies in the space between you and the two men who, despite their best efforts, can’t resist your pull.

Ni-ki and Heeseung share a glance, a fleeting second where restraint crumbles between them. Then, like moths to a flame, they follow.

The crowd parts subtly as you move, eyes catching onto the effortless way your body moves with the music.

The moment you step onto the dancefloor, you can feel the weight of their eyes on you. The bass pulses beneath your feet, the air thick with the scent of sweat, liquor, and electricity. Around you, bodies move in chaotic waves, but you command a different kind of rhythm—one that is slow, deliberate, intoxicating.

You don’t look back to see if they followed. You don’t need to. You know they have.

And then, just as you expected, they’re there.

When you finally slow, positioning yourself in the center of the dance floor, you feel them step into place behind you—one on each side, caging you in without a single touch.

Heeseung’s warmth spreads over your back first, his hands grazing your waist, hesitant at first, but that hesitation crumbles the second you roll your hips back against him. His grip tightens instantly, fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress. He exhales sharply against your ear, the heat of it making you shiver.

Ni-ki doesn’t hesitate at all. He steps in front of you, so close their chests nearly touch, his gaze flickering between your lips and your eyes. “You have no idea what you’re doing to us,” he murmurs, low and breathless.

You smirk, tilting your head slightly. “Oh, I think I do.”

And then you move.

Your body melts into Heeseung’s as you grind against him, slow and teasing. You feel the sharp inhale he takes, the way his grip turns bruising as he tries to control himself. But you don’t let up, rolling your hips deeper, pressing harder.

“Fuck,” Heeseung groans, his fingers digging into your hips as he leans down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Ni-ki watches, his jaw clenched, eyes dark as he takes in the sight of your body moving against Heeseung’s. But he doesn’t stay idle for long. His hands slide over your arms before trailing lower, ghosting over your waist before settling firmly on your hips, sandwiching you between them.

“You think you can just do whatever you want, don’t you?” Ni-ki murmurs, voice thick with heat. His lips are dangerously close to yours now.

You tilt your head, lips parting slightly. “I know I can.”

Ni-ki chuckles, low and dark, before leaning in—his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck. The featherlight touch sends a shiver down your spine, your breath hitching as he presses a lingering kiss there.

Heeseung’s hands shift, one splaying over your stomach, pressing you further against him. His lips graze your ear again, his voice raspier now. “You love this, don’t you? Having both of us like this?“

You hum, tilting your head to the side to give Ni-ki better access to your neck. “Maybe.”

Ni-ki nips at your skin in response, making you gasp. Heeseung, not to be outdone, tightens his hold and grinds against you, letting you feel just how much you’re affecting him.

The music swells around you, drowning out everything else. They switch positions fluidly—Ni-ki sliding behind you now, his hands wandering, his breath hot against the back of your neck. Heeseung in front of you, his eyes locked onto yours, a challenge in them.

Ni-ki’s lips twitch into a smirk, his hands finding your hips as you both fall back into rhythm, moving together like you’ve done this a hundred times before.

You let your head tilt back against Ni-ki's shoulder, reveling in the feeling of their hands, their heat, their absolute desperation for you.

You’re completely in control. And they both know it.

You let them move with you, the three of you falling into a sensual, intoxicating rhythm. Your bodies press, shift, mold together, moving as one. Heat coils at the base of your spine as hands wander—touching, teasing, claiming.

People are watching. You can feel their gazes, some intrigued, others scandalized, but you don’t care. Let them look. Let them see what it means to be wanted.

Heeseung’s fingers trail up your side, featherlight yet possessive. Ni-ki’s hands tighten, anchoring you between them.

And you?

You smile, loving the newfound feeling of power.

The heat between you and them is unbearable now. Every grind, every whispered breath against flushed skin, every lingering touch has pushed them to the very edge of restraint. Both bulges in their pants undeniable by now, growing with each passing second. The music, the flashing lights, the crowd around you—it all fades into nothing.

You know they’re waiting for you. You can feel it in the way Heeseung’s grip flexes on your waist, in the way Ni-ki’s fingers hesitate against your skin as if fighting every instinct to just take you right here.

But they don’t.

Because they’ve changed.

Because they won’t let this happen unless they know, without a shadow of a doubt, that it’s what you want.

Ni-ki leans in first, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Y/N,” he murmurs, voice strained, “tell us now if you want to stop.“

Heeseung, on the other side of you, breathes just as heavily. “We won’t take another step if you don’t want this.”

You pull back slightly, meeting both of their eyes. Their restraint is obvious—the tight clench of Heeseung’s jaw, the way Ni-ki’s fingers flex like he’s trying to stop himself from pulling you closer.

They’re waiting on you.

You smirk, tilting your head. “Then keep up,” you purr, before slipping out of their hold and striding toward the exit.

The second you step outside, you don’t have to turn to know they’re following.

---

The door to Heeseung’s apartment barely clicks open before Ni-ki pushes forward, his hand firm on your waist as he guides you inside, your bodies colliding in a heated frenzy. His lips crash onto yours without hesitation, kissing you like he’s been starving for you all night. You don’t even have time to catch your breath before you’re melting into him, fingers threading through his hair as he deepens the kiss, tilting his head to claim you fully.

Heeseung steps inside after you, shutting the door with a quiet click. He should feel jealous—maybe even furious—but instead, he feels something entirely different. Something dark and electric curling in his stomach as he watches Ni-ki devour you, as he watches you let him.

You gasp against Ni-ki’s mouth when his hands slide down your sides, gripping the curve of your hips to pull you impossibly closer. Heeseung swallows, his throat dry as he leans against the door, his fingers twitching at his sides. He shouldn’t like this. But he does. God, he does.

Your dress rides up slightly as Ni-ki presses you against the cool wall, his lips trailing from your mouth down to the line of your jaw. You tilt your head back, eyes fluttering closed, giving in to the feeling of Ni-ki’s lips ghosting down your throat. A quiet, breathy sigh leaves your lips, and Heeseung clenches his jaw.

You suddenly peek at him through lidded eyes, a knowing smirk playing on your lips. “Enjoying the view?” you tease, your voice sultry and dripping with amusement.

Heeseung exhales sharply, pushing off the door. He steps forward, slow, deliberate, and when he meets Ni-ki’s gaze over your shoulder, there’s no rivalry—only understanding. Only shared desire.

And Heeseung finally realizes: He doesn’t mind sharing, not when it’s you.

Just as Ni-ki’s lips start trailing lower, you place a firm hand on his chest and push him back. He stumbles slightly, brows knitting together in confusion as he looks at you. Heeseung watches too, standing still, his breath caught in his throat as you straighten yourself up.

“Alright,” you say, smoothing down your dress with slow, deliberate movements, your confidence dripping into every word. “Before we take another step, let’s get one thing clear—I’m in charge tonight.“

Ni-ki’s lips part slightly, still catching his breath from the way he’d had you against the wall just moments ago. Heeseung, on the other hand, simply nods, his gaze locked onto yours like he’s ready to follow every single command you give.

You step forward, your heels clicking softly against the floor as you let your eyes scan over both of them, making sure they understand. You tilt your head. “No touching unless I say so.”

Ni-ki exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair as if trying to compose himself, while Heeseung just bites his lower lip, nodding again, more eagerly this time.

“And no getting jealous.” Your eyes flicker between them, watching as they both exchange a look before quickly nodding again.

Your lips curve into a small, satisfied smile. “Good boys.”

Heeseung audibly exhales, his entire body going tense. Ni-ki, usually the cocky one, swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he fights the urge to reach for you again.

But you aren’t done.

You turn to Heeseung now, stepping into his space, and he immediately straightens up, eyes wide and expectant. You place a hand on his chest, feeling the way his heartbeat pounds against your palm, and you lean in, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to his lips.

It’s barely a second—just a taste, just a tease—but when you pull back, Heeseung makes the smallest sound.

A whimper.

You feel it in your stomach, the power you have over them both. Heeseung’s eyes are heavy-lidded, his breath shaky, his hands twitching at his sides as if he’s physically restraining himself from reaching for you.

“More,” he murmurs, almost pleading.

You just smirk. “Only if you behave.”

And Heeseung, desperate, nods without hesitation.

You step back slightly, arms crossing over your chest as you eye the two men in front of you. Heeseung’s lips are parted, his breath uneven, while Ni-ki rolls his shoulders back, like he’s trying to keep himself together. But you can see the way they’re both holding back—the tension in their muscles, the way their fingers twitch at their sides, desperate to reach for you.

You let the silence stretch between them, reveling in the power shift, before finally tilting your head. “If you want to touch me…” You trail off, tapping a manicured nail against your chin. “Then you should earn it.”

Ni-ki lifts a brow. “Earn it?”

You smirk. “Get on your knees.”

For a second, neither of them moves. Not out of defiance—but because they’re both stunned.

“You’re joking,” Heeseung finally says, voice a little breathless.

You raise a brow. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

There’s a pause. A heavy, suffocating moment of tension.

And then—Ni-ki moves first.

He drops to his knees without hesitation, his dark eyes locked onto yours. A muscle in his jaw twitches, his usual confidence faltering under the intensity of your gaze. But he doesn’t care. He wants this—wants you.

Heeseung follows a beat later, exhaling sharply through his nose as he lowers himself. He swallows, looking up at you with wide, needy eyes, his fingers curling into fists against his thighs.

You let out a small hum of approval, stepping closer so that they’re kneeling right in front of you, looking up like you’re something to be worshipped.

Ni-ki exhales, licking his lips. “Let me touch you.” His voice is hoarse, lower than usual.

You tilt your head. “That’s not begging, Ni-ki.”

He groans, his hands twitching at his sides. “Please, Y/N,” he murmurs, the rasp in his voice making your stomach tighten. “I need to feel you.”

Heeseung shifts slightly, his lips parting. “Me too,” he says, his voice almost a whisper. “Please.”

You press your lips together, pretending to consider it. You can feel the heat radiating off them, the way they’re barely keeping it together. You reach out, brushing your fingers through Heeseung’s dark hair, making him shudder at the touch.

“You can do better than that,” you muse.

Heeseung’s breath stutters, and then he lets out a soft, desperate whine. “Y/N,” he whispers, shifting on his knees. “Please. Please let me touch you. I’ll be good—I swear.“

Ni-ki exhales sharply, his hands gripping his own thighs like he’s holding himself back from just yanking you forward. “Please, princess,” he murmurs, his voice husky. “I’ll do anything.”

You grin now, reveling in the way they’re completely at your mercy. “Anything?”

They both nod—Ni-ki’s breath ragged, Heeseung’s lips trembling.

You let the moment stretch, making them squirm. Then, finally—you exhale and step back.

“Good boys.”

And just like that, you see them both nearly break.

You watch them—still on their knees, eyes blown wide, hands twitching like they’re holding back everything inside them just for you.

You hum, dragging your fingers along Ni-ki’s jaw, then trailing them over Heeseung’s cheek. They both lean into your touch instantly, like it’s the only thing keeping them sane.

“Since you were both so good for me,” you muse, “I’ll let you touch me now.”

Their sharp inhales fill the space between them, but before they can get ahead of themselves, you lift a single finger.

“But only how I say.”

They nod instantly.

You tilt your head. “Carry me to the bed.”

For a moment, they hesitate—not because they don’t want to, but because they both move at the same time, hands bumping into each other as they reach for you. There’s a flicker of something between them—silent, understanding, but also competitive.

Then Ni-ki moves first, wrapping an arm under your legs while Heeseung supports your back, and together, they lift you effortlessly. You let your head fall back slightly, allowing yourself to revel in the way their strong arms hold you—secure, reverent, desperate.

They carry you to the bed as if you’re something precious, something delicate. But you are anything but delicate.

As soon as you’re placed on the soft sheets, you straighten, looking between them. They’re standing now, both looming over you, waiting—hanging onto your every move.

You smirk, running a slow hand up your thigh, watching the way their gazes follow it like magnets.

“Take off my dress,” you order. “And my shoes. But nothing else.”

A sharp breath from Heeseung. Ni-ki’s jaw clenches.

But they obey.

Ni-ki moves first, fingers reaching for the straps of your dress, sliding them down your shoulders with agonizing slowness. His fingertips ghost over your skin, and you don’t miss the way his breath shudders.

Heeseung’s hands trail down your legs, working on unstrapping your heels, knuckles brushing against your skin as he slides them off, one by one. His fingers are warm, careful—almost worshipping.

The dress pools at your waist now, and Ni-ki glances up at you for permission before sliding it further down. You give a small nod, and he exhales, dragging the fabric over your hips, down your thighs, until it’s nothing but a heap on the floor.

Now, you sit before them—legs crossed, clad only in lace and confidence.

You see it—the way they both freeze, eyes dark and heavy, drinking you in like you’re their last salvation.

You shift slightly, watching their gazes flicker over you.

But before they can move—before they can even think about reaching for you—you raise a finger again.

“That’s enough,” you murmur. “Now… just look.”

A sharp pause.

Ni-ki’s throat bobs. Heeseung’s hands tighten into fists.

And then, they do exactly as they’re told.

They look.

You lean back against the headboard, your legs crossed as you study the two men standing before you. Their chests rise and fall unevenly, their hands twitching at their sides, desperate to reach for you. But you aren’t going to make this easy for them. No, they have to earn it.

“Since you’re both so eager,” you muse, tilting your head, “why don’t you start by showing me how much you really want it?”

Heeseung and Ni-ki exchange a glance, uncertainty flickering in their eyes. The room is thick with tension, the kind that makes the air feel heavier, their skin more sensitive, their breathing more labored.

Your lips curl. “Kiss each other.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Heeseung’s breath hitched, his eyes darting between Ni-ki and you, searching for some kind of confirmation that you’re serious. Ni-ki, on the other hand, lets out a sharp exhale, licking his lips as he studies Heeseung’s reaction. There’s no protest, no outright rejection—just the heavy weight of hesitation settling over them both.

“Or,” you shrug, trailing a slow, teasing finger down the bare skin of your thigh, “you don’t have to. But then, neither of you get to touch me.”

A quiet, unspoken understanding passes between them. It’s a test—a challenge they aren’t willing to fail.

Ni-ki swallows hard, shifting on his feet. Heeseung clenches his jaw.

Then, finally, Heeseung exhales. “Okay.”

Ni-ki nods, as if reassuring himself.

Slowly, Ni-ki reaches out, his fingers curling into the fabric of Heeseung’s shirt. There’s a moment of pause, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. The anticipation alone sends a ripple of something dangerous and thrilling through your veins.

Then, in one swift motion, Ni-ki pulls Heeseung forward.

Their lips meet in a clash of uncertainty and heat. The first contact is tentative, almost questioning, but the moment their mouths move against each other, something shifts. Heeseung sucks in a sharp breath at the unexpected sensation, and Ni-ki, testing the waters, tilts his head slightly, deepening the kiss just enough to pull them further into the moment.

You smirked, heat pooling in your stomach as you watched them melt into each other.

The hesitation is still there, lingering in the way their fingers twitch against fabric, in the sharp inhales between parted lips. But with every passing second, that hesitation begins to unravel—replaced by something neither of them can deny.

They liked it.

The realization hits at the same time.

A quiet, shaky exhale leaves Heeseung’s mouth as Ni-ki’s hand slides up his arm, gripping lightly. Heeseung responds in kind, fingers curling into the hem of Ni-ki’s shirt, pulling him in just a little closer. Their movements are equal, neither leading nor following, just moving together, testing, exploring, discovering.

Your lips parted slightly, amusement flickering in your gaze. “Good boys.”

That simple praise sends a visible shudder through both of them.

Heeseung lets out the softest whimper against Ni-ki’s lips, and the sound sends a jolt of something electric down Ni-ki’s spine. Emboldened, he mirrored the same energy, pressing in just enough to elicit a quiet gasp from Heeseung this time. They both felt it—the shift, the hunger, the desire crackling between them like a slow-burning fire.

They broke apart only when the need for air became unbearable.

Both of them are breathless, pupils blown wide, lips swollen from the exchange.

You slowly uncrossed your legs, dragging your fingers down your collarbone in deliberate, tantalizing strokes. “Now,” you purred, watching them closely, “let’s see if you can follow my next order just as well.”

And judging by the way their bodies were already responding to you, you had no doubt they would.

You let the silence stretch, your gaze trailing lazily over the two breathless men in front of you. Their lips were swollen, their bodies tense, their eyes locked onto yours like you were the only thing that existed.

A slow smirk curled at the corner of your mouth. “Touch each other.”

Heeseung’s breath caught. Ni-ki’s fingers twitched.

Your nails grazed your thigh, just enough to draw their attention. “Make it feel good.”

A muscle in Heeseung’s jaw clenched, his mind visibly working through the command. Ni-ki, on the other hand, exhaled sharply, shifting where he stood, but he didn’t step back. Neither of them did.

Because they wanted this. Maybe more than they were ready to admit.

It was Ni-ki who moved first, his hand lifting hesitantly before pressing against Heeseung’s waist. The touch was light—almost experimental—but it sent a ripple of something electric through both of them. Heeseung inhaled shakily, his body stiff for only a second before his own hands came up, brushing tentatively against Ni-ki’s arms.

You tilted your head, watching intently. “Come on,” you murmured, your voice dripping with expectation. “You can do better than that.”

Ni-ki swallowed hard, his fingers tightening. Heeseung mirrored the motion, his palms sliding up the curve of Ni-ki’s shoulders. Their breathing grew heavier, their touches lingering, testing.

Then, as if something finally clicked, Ni-ki’s hands moved. They trailed over Heeseung’s chest, fingertips dragging over fabric, pressing just enough to make him shudder. Heeseung exhaled sharply, and in response, he let his own hands wander—gliding down Ni-ki’s sides, tracing the shape of his ribs.

A quiet, unspoken challenge passed between them.

Ni-ki’s fingers dipped lower, teasing at Heeseung’s waistline, and Heeseung retaliated by ghosting his touch up the bare skin just beneath Ni-ki’s shirt. A quiet hitch of breath escaped him at the contact.

You bit your lip, your gaze dark with satisfaction. “That’s more like it.”

Something changed in the air.

What started as obedience had shifted into something else entirely.

Ni-ki and Heeseung weren’t just following orders anymore. They were reacting—exploring, pushing boundaries neither of them had considered before. And judging by the way their hands refused to let go, they weren’t stopping anytime soon.

You let the moment stretch, drinking in the sight before you—two men tangled in something neither of them fully understood yet, but neither of them wanted to stop. Their breathing was heavy, their hands still lingering on each other as if unsure whether to pull away or press closer.

A slow, satisfied smile curled across your lips. “Take off your shirts.”

The command settled over them like a slow-burning fuse.

Heeseung blinked, his fingers twitching where they still rested against Ni-ki’s waist. Ni-ki, usually so composed, let out a slow breath, his throat bobbing.

Your gaze darkened. “Do I need to repeat myself?”

That was all it took.

Neither of them spoke. They only exchanged a glance—brief but charged—before moving at the same time.

Fingers grasped fabric, muscles flexing as they pulled their shirts over their heads in one smooth motion. The air between them grew heavier, thick with something unspoken as their shirts hit the floor.

You leaned back against the headboard, letting your gaze trail lazily over them. Bare skin, toned and flushed, chests rising and falling in tandem. You could see the tension in their shoulders, the way their fingers twitched slightly, as if waiting for your next move.

You dragged a slow finger along your collarbone, watching how their eyes followed the movement. Then you tilted your head, your voice soft but laced with authority.

“Now touch me.”

There was no hesitation this time.

Two pairs of hands reached for you at once.

You felt the heat radiating from their bare skin as their hands hovered just above you, waiting for the moment they were allowed to touch. But you weren’t going to give them that satisfaction so easily.

You exhaled slowly, letting the silence stretch, savoring the way their chests rose and fell with restrained anticipation. Then, you tilted your chin up and spoke, your voice soft yet commanding.

“Ask for it.”

Heeseung’s fingers twitched, his breath hitching slightly. Ni-ki licked his lips, his jaw tightening.

You smirked. “If you want to touch me, you need to say it.”

There was a flicker of hesitation between them—pride warring with desire. But you could already see it in their eyes. They wanted this too much to resist.

Heeseung was the first to break, his voice low and rough. “I want to touch you.”

Ni-ki followed, his words slightly more controlled, but no less desperate. “Let me touch you.”

You ran a teasing hand down your own arm, watching the way their gazes tracked the movement hungrily. Then, you let out a satisfied hum.

“Good boys.”

Their bodies tensed at the praise, but before they could react, you leaned forward slightly, your next command slipping from your lips like a promise.

“Use your mouths.”

The room was thick with anticipation, the air charged with something electric. Your command lingered, a promise wrapped in temptation.

Heeseung and Ni-ki hesitated for only a second before moving at the same time, drawn in by the invisible pull between them.

Heeseung was the first to lean in, his breath warm as it ghosted over your skin. He started slow, pressing a soft, deliberate kiss against the curve of your shoulder. Ni-ki followed, mirroring him on the other side, his lips brushing just beneath your jaw.

You exhaled, your fingers curling against the sheets, your satisfaction evident in the way you tilted your head back slightly, exposing more of your neck.

Encouraged, they grew bolder.

Ni-ki’s lips trailed lower, his mouth pressing against your collarbone, lingering there for a moment as if testing how much he was allowed. Heeseung mirrored his movements, his touch just as reverent, yet equally unrestrained. There was no competition now, no fight for dominance—only them moving in perfect sync, learning, exploring, savoring.

You could feel it, the shift between them. What had started as obedience was turning into something more. The careful touches, the way their lips mapped over your skin—it wasn’t just for you anymore.

They liked this.

You could feel it in the way their breaths grew heavier, in the way their hands hovered near your waist, unsure if they were allowed to touch more. You could hear it in the barely-there sounds they let slip, low and unguarded.

You smirked, your fingers lifting to tangle lightly in Heeseung’s hair, then in Ni-ki’s, pulling just enough to make them pause. Their eyes met yours, dazed, wanting.

“You’re both doing so well,” you murmured, your voice smooth, dripping with satisfaction.

The praise sent a visible shudder through them both.

Your breath hitched as Heeseung’s gaze locked with yours, his eyes dark with anticipation. The tension between them was thick, palpable, and you could feel it swirling around you, pulling you in. Without a word, you moved closer, your fingers brushing over the side of his face, your hand gently cupping his jaw.

Heeseung's eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he leaned into your touch, his lips parted slightly. Your thumb traced the line of his lips, feeling the heat radiating from him. You could see the barely-contained desire in his expression, the way his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. Your heart raced, but you weren’t in a hurry—you wanted to savor this.

Slowly, you guided his face closer to yours, your fingers gripping his jaw just firmly enough to pull him into you. You felt him hesitate, just for a moment, before he closed the distance, his lips meeting yours with a gentle yet urgent pressure.

The kiss was slow at first, tender, as if you were both testing the waters. You let out a soft sigh against his lips, and Heeseung deepened it just slightly, his hand coming up to rest on your waist. It was an exploration, a careful exchange of desire and need.

But you weren’t done yet. As the kiss deepened, you turned your attention to Ni-ki, who had been watching you intently, his body tense with a mix of impatience and desire. You tilted your head, your eyes locking with his, and with a subtle, commanding gesture, you placed your hand on the back of his head, gently guiding his face downwards.

Ni-ki didn’t pull away, but instead leaned into your touch, his breath catching as he felt the pressure of your fingers on his skin. Slowly, he allowed himself to be guided, his mouth moving lower, his lips brushing against your thighs as you kept your grip steady.

Your heart raced at the sensation of both of them so close, so present. Heeseung’s lips were soft against yours, deepening the kiss with a mix of hunger and restraint, while Ni-ki’s breath ghosted over your skin, the warmth of him radiating through you as he followed your lead.

The kiss between you and Heeseung grew more heated, the intensity rising with every passing second. You could feel the pulse of desire between you, a raw, electric connection. At the same time, Ni-ki’s touch against your still clothed cunt sent a shiver down your spine, the combination of the two driving your senses wild.

As the kiss broke, you pulled back just enough to look into Heeseung’s eyes, your fingers still resting on his face. He was breathing heavily, his lips slightly swollen, and one could see the mix of longing and frustration in his gaze. You smiled, your voice soft but commanding, "You both wanted this... Now show me just how much."

And just like the Ni-ki rushes to push your panties down your thighs, the lack of fabric against your sensitive cunt rips a guttural moan from your throat.

They both came to a halt after hearing the noise.

It was almost too much. The way your voice, quiet but dripping with heat, seemed to vibrate through the space, making their hearts race and their breaths quicken. Your fingers gripped the fabric of the sheets beneath you, the sound of it brushing against the bed mingling with your breathless sighs, sending a jolt of raw need through both of them.

Ni-ki’s hand tightened into a fist at his side, his knuckles white. His lips parted, as if he were struggling to hold back, his entire body wound tight with the need to move. Heeseung’s gaze was just as intense, his lips pressed in a thin line, eyes dark with the strain of keeping control.

You met Ni-ki's gaze, voice low and commanding, "Go ahead, I want to see what you can do."

As soon as the words slip past your lips, Ni-ki pushes his head in between your legs and this time you physically can't stop yourself from bucking your hips into his touch.

"Heeseung continue", you hiss through gritted teeth only to choke on your words as soon as Ni-ki licks a long stripe over the entirety of your cunt, savoring every drop landing on his tongue like it's the sweetest meal he's ever tasted.

Heeseung’s gaze flickered between Ni-ki and you, his breath shallow as he watched Ni-ki’s every movement. Heeseung’s body ached to be closer, to stake his claim in the space between them. The sight of Ni-ki inching closer to you only ignited something deeper within him, something primal.

But then he remembered the rules for tonight.

Without a word, Heeseung cupped your face in his hands, his thumb brushing over your jaw. Your eyes met his for a split second, and that was all he needed. He closed the distance between you, kissing you with a hunger he could no longer control.

Ni-ki doesn’t even notices Heeseungs eagerness, to occupied with losing himself in your taste. "F-Fuck", he grunts and digs his fingers deeper into the skin of your ass cheeks, hating himself for losing his composure but to his luck your way too fucked out already to take notice of his little outburst.

Heeseungs takes this as a signal to make his move by making your tits his new territory. He looks at you with the biggest puppy eyes, pleading to finally be allowed to touch you, claim you, taste you more. If only you’d allow him to take of that lacy bra he wanted to rip off all night.

And the moment your eyes lock and you nod at him, he rips it of and attaches his mouth to your hard and perky nipples.

You long lost control of yourself as moan after moan follows each breathless gasp for air and high pitched whimper of both their names.

Yet again, Ni-ki doesn't give you enough time to catch a breath of air by sucking your clit into his mouth, applying just enough pressure on your sensitive clit with his tongue to have you gasping for air.

Heeseung is relentless, careless and sloppy. Loud slurping noises match the actions of his mouth as he licks every spot he can reach, not a single word leaving his lips as he's too busy making sure to leave no spot untouched.

It doesn't take long for you to tip toe around the edge as Ni-ki switches between thrusting his tongue into your tight hole and drawing circles into your needy bundle of nerves.

"C-Close", you suddenly whisper and it's then that Ni-ki realises that he's had his eyes closed the whole time, like some pussy drunk freak.

“Fuck, yes. Make me cum“ you moans. And Ni-ki doesn’t need to be told twice. The second he goes back to pushing his tongue into your tight hole, you feels a wave of relief hit your nerves and before you can even process what's happening, Ni-ki applies just the right amount of pressure on your sensitive clit and easily pushes you over the edge with just those few movements, while Heeseung is still touching and kissing you all over. He even started leaving hickeys all over your neck and collarbones.

You doesn’t know how much time passes until you regains your composure but it's the sound of Heeseung unbuckling his belt which pulls you back into reality.

You pulled back abruptly, your fingers curling around Heeseung’s jaw, forcing him to look at you. Your eyes, once filled with heat, were now sharp, commanding.

"Did I say you could do that?" Your voice was low, dangerous.

Heeseung swallowed hard, his lips still parted, the taste of you lingering on his tongue. He didn’t answer fast enough.

Your grip tightened, your nails pressing into his skin just enough to make him shiver. "I asked you a question, Heeseung."

He hesitated, then shook his head slightly. "No... you didn’t."

A smirk ghosted across your lips, but there was no warmth in it. "Then I guess you’ll have to make up for that mistake."

With a slow, deliberate push, you guided him back, her tone dripping with authority. "Sit down. Now."

After that you continues pulling down his jeans, but stop when you reaches his boxers. As slow as possible you start palming him trough them. And while it didn’t seem like a punishment at first, Heeseung understands now, cause he doesn’t want nothing more than just to be touched by you.

Heeseung bit down on his lower lip, muffling a whimper as his body trembled. Your hands slip under his boxers stroking his hard dick, but still slow and teasing.

His eyes, glossy with unshed tears, flickered upward, searching for mercy. “P-please…” he choked out, voice barely above a whisper.

A low chuckle met his plea. “Oh? Now you’re begging?” Fingers traced the curve of his jaw, tilting his chin up. “You knew there’d be consequences, didn’t you, Heeseung?”

His breath hitched as he nodded, another broken whimper slipping past his lips. He had known. But knowing never made it any easier.

Ni-ki sat perfectly still, his hands clenched into fists on his lap, his body tense with restraint. Heeseung’s soft whimpers filled the room, each one making it harder for him to stay still, to not reach out—to not react.

His jaw tightened as he swallowed the urge to move. He wanted to do something, anything, but he knew better. You hadn’t given him permission.

His gaze flickered toward you, eyes pleading, desperate for instruction. But all he received was a knowing smirk and a simple command:

“Stay.”

So he did. Even as Heeseung trembled beside him, even as his own resolve threatened to crack.

And then finally you pulled away from Heeseung, only to move forward and align your glistening cunt with his cock.

Heeseung who was already overstimulated by now, cried out as you lowered himself painfully slow. When his hard cock reached fully inside of you a loud moan left the both of you.

And with two words Heeseung felt like he could finally breathe again: “Fuck me“.

Heeseung’s hesitation melted away the moment he realized you weren’t stopping him. His grip tightened, his breath coming faster, excitement flickering to life in his darkened eyes.

A low chuckle slipped from his lips—this was what he had been craving. Control. Power. And now that you’d given him a taste, he wanted more.

He moves quickly, almost too eagerly, his cock thrusting into you hard and fast. “Fuck“ Ni-ki moans, sitting right next to you and watching the scene unfold.

Your hand is quick to grab Ni-kis face to pull him closer to your body, your dark eyes roaming his features, expression dripping in the deadly combination of ecstasy and lust.

“Open up“

The command was sharp, leaving no room for hesitation. And there was none. His lips parted instantly, instinctively, his breath hitching just slightly as he held still, waiting for whatever you decided to give him.

You leaned in slowly, letting the anticipation coil between you, before finally letting the saliva drip from your lips into his waiting mouth.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed without question, without complaint.

“Good boy,” you murmured, watching the way his pupils dilated at the praise. He didn’t move, didn’t break eye contact—just waited, ready for whatever you wanted next.

At the same time it feels like Heeseung is hitting every single one of your sweetest spots, the tip of his cock grazing the entrance to your womb with every single one of his movements.

Your voice cut through the moans, firm and unwavering. “Switch.”

Ni-ki moved first—quick, obedient, slipping seamlessly into Heeseung’s position without hesitation. This time you sat down facing the other direction, your ass facing Ni-ki. Heeseung, on the other hand, hesitated for just a second, his jaw tightening as if he wanted to protest. But one sharp look from you had him lowering his gaze and moving, albeit slower, adjusting to his new role.

You pulled him in front of you, while lowering yourself on Ni-ki. It doesn't take him too long to find the perfect rhythm, pulling his cock all the way out of your tight cunt just to thrust himself back inside of you with sharp movements of his hips.

At the same time you guided Heeseungs dick in to your mouth as a reward for being this good to you the last few hours. All you can do is moan on his dick as the feeling of both their cocks filling you up takes over the last bits of your rational thinking. Lee Heeseung and Nishimura Riki are doing soemthing to your body you’ve never experienced before and at this point you don’t even know what to feel or think.

You feel your second orgasm building up and notices how the two men fucking you are also nearly there. So without saying another word, you push your hand between your bodys and start rubbing another set of harsh circles onto your clit.

It takes exactly a minute and the combination of Ni-kis merciless thrusts and Heeseung pushing his cock down your throat with just the right clit stimulation for you to cum all over Ni-kis cock. This time your orgasm feels even more intense, so intense your vission actually darkens for a solid second before turning blurry.

You're so caught up in the sweetness of your own relief, you barely notice the way Ni-kis thrusts start growing sloppy and uncoordinated and without giving it another thought, you lazily reach back to grab a fistful of his hair and pull at the thick strands and just as expected is the pain in his scalp enough to elicit a deep, gutturual moan from him as he cums inside of you.

Finally heaving your full attention Heeseung reaches for your mouth and trusts a few times more before pulling out with a heavy and breathy moan and coming all over your face.

Heavy breathing is the only sound to fill Heeseung's room for the following few minutes, and as the fog of pleasure slowly starts disappearing, you feel like you're finally able to breathe again.

The room was quieter now, the intensity from earlier gradually fading as the atmosphere shifted. You stood before Heeseung and Ni-ki, their gazes following you, not with the same weight of submission as before, but with an unspoken respect.

“Alright,” you said softly, your voice no longer carrying the sharp edge of authority it once did. “We’re back to normal now.”

Heeseung straightened, the tension in his shoulders easing as he finally exhaled, his posture more relaxed than it had been in hours. His eyes met yours with a quiet understanding, a subtle smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The control had returned to its proper balance, and with it, a certain ease between all of you.

Ni-ki shifted, the electric energy that had once surged through him now tempered with calm. He gave a small nod, his gaze not as intense as before but still filled with a hint of admiration. He wasn’t seeking approval anymore; there was something deeper now, a trust that had been forged through everything that had happened.

“Better?” you asked, more out of curiosity than anything.

Heeseung nodded, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “Much better,” he replied, his voice more at ease now. Ni-ki’s agreement came in a quiet murmur, a subtle shift in his demeanor that mirrored the new harmony between all of them.

“You know,” Ni-ki said, breaking the quiet, “we can do this any way you want. Just… don’t make it so heavy next time.”

You smirked slightly, a playful glint in your eye. “I think we all learned something today, didn’t we?” you said, letting the words hang in the air.

Heeseung shot you a teasing look. “Next time, I get to make the rules.”

“Not so fast,” you replied with a soft laugh, feeling the balance settle back into place. The evening had settled into a comfortable quiet, the air lighter now that the tension had dissipated. You sat on the couch, surrounded by Heeseung and Ni-ki, both of them more relaxed than they had been hours ago. The moments of intensity had passed, but the shift in the atmosphere was palpable—there was a newfound understanding between all of you.

“We’ve been through a lot,” you said, voice soft yet steady. You could feel the weight of the day lifting off everyone’s shoulders, a sense of peace spreading through the room.

Ni-ki glanced at Heeseung before speaking up, his tone light but sincere. “I think we’re good now, yeah? It doesn’t feel as… tense anymore.”

Heeseung nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, I agree. We’ve figured things out.” He met your gaze, eyes filled with a mixture of respect and something deeper, a connection that went beyond the dynamics of control.

You smiled, leaning back against the cushions, feeling content with how things had turned out. “This is what it should always be—trust and understanding. We each have our roles, but we’re all in this together.”

The three of you sat in silence for a moment, the quiet comfortable. No longer defined by power struggles or control, the bond between you all had evolved into something more genuine, more real. It wasn’t about dominance or submission anymore; it was about each of you finding your place and respecting each other’s limits, desires, and needs.

Eventually, Heeseung reached over, nudging Ni-ki playfully. “So, what now?”

Ni-ki grinned, the energy that had once been electric now settling into something more playful. “Now? We just… live, I guess.”

You looked at them both, a sense of pride swelling in your chest. “Exactly,” you said. “No rush. Just… live.”

Note: Yeahh… so that just happened… not proofread yet btw

Still let me know how you liked it :)

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