#I don't know what possessed me to do this

[lymtw]

Movie Night

(Toji and His Shy Girl)

Friday night is unofficially movie night for you and Toji. You always go back and forth on what you should do and options are tossed out, like a nice dinner or trying food from someplace new or going to a view and sitting in the trunk of his car with blankets and some snacks. Most of the time, all of those options are thrown out the window and you just end up sitting in your bed or his bed and watching movies together. It doesn't matter what you do, it's always good, and the sleep overs make it even better.

A knock on your door signals Toji's arrival. Though you haven't had any caffeine since the coffee you treated yourself to earlier in the afternoon, you feel jittery. You grab the surprise you have for him and walk over to answer the door. As soon as you pull the door open, there he is, looking handsome as always, even when he's donning a simple t-shirt and some sweatpants. He gives you that smirk of his—the one that makes your chest feel all warm and fuzzy, and wakes up the butterflies in your stomach. He has a bag in his hand, filled with the snacks he promised to bring.

"Aren't you gonna say hi? Did you even miss me?" He teases, loving the way you gently nod as he speaks, like you're ready to prove that you did in fact miss him.

"Hi, Toji," you say, a smile spreading on your lips when you become overly aware of his focus on you. "I missed you. Come in." You move aside and let him into your cozy home, a place he's all too familiar with. He steps out of his slides and leaves them behind next to a pair of your shoes, his gaze never leaving you as he waits for you to lock the door after you shut it.

"What's that, doll?" Toji asks, when you approach him with full hands. There's a soft smile on your lips and your eyes shine like the stars that speckle the sky, as you extend the neatly folded pair of pajamas towards him. You have the most precious look on your face, as if you're showing him one of your most prized possessions—something you're proud of.

"You don't have to wear them if you don't want to. I still have the receipt. I just thought it would be nice to wear matching pj's."

You're not asking for much. Toji knows this. This is nothing—you're not asking him for anything. All he can think as he takes in the adorable look on your face, is that it would be an absolutely disgusting, heinous crime, to deny you of something so simple, something that would make you so damn happy. He can't bring himself to destroy you like that. In doing that, he would be chipping his own heart.

"What are you talking about? Let me see them," he says, laying his hands out for you to place the clothes on. You carefully place them in his hands and watch as he unfolds the articles. You don't know what he's thinking as he inspects the shirt, but the hum he lets out is nerve wracking. The shirt's design is minimalistic. It's a black t-shirt with three little stars on the left side of the chest and a small crescent moon on the back, a few inches beneath the collar, and then the bottoms are in the same plaid style as yours, just dark green instead of red.

"Is this why you asked for my clothing sizes a couple days ago?" He asks, pulling down his pants out of nowhere. You can't even try to hold back your laugh as you look away after getting a glimpse of his boxers, the sound just slips out. "What are you laughing at? Nothing you haven't seen before," he says, grinning amusedly at your giggles.

He unfolds the comfy pair of pants and slides them on. Immediately after, his shirt comes off, and it's as if he wants you to notice—to ogle him—because he takes his sweet time getting the new shirt on. He catches your eyes trailing down his torso, and then, he hears it, the flustered giggle that tumbles off your lips, the sweet sound he was waiting on. He smirks as he puts the new shirt on, and once again waits for your reaction. The shirt is a thicker material and fits perfectly, so do the pants. You're now matching, just like you wanted.

"How do I look?" Toji asks, doing a simple hands in his pockets pose.

"Handsome and comfy," you respond, warmth reaching your face as you take in the sight.

"Yeah? You think so?" He asks as he picks up his previous outfit and drops it on the arm of your couch. He hears your affirmative hum and catches your little nod as he steps towards you.

"Hey, where's my kiss?" He asks, a sly little smirk curling his lips. His hands rest on your lower back, gently pulling you closer. "I've been waiting hours and hours," he murmurs, green eyes absorbing the pretty smile that begins to form on your lips. "I want my reward."

You know that it won't be just a quick kiss with Toji, but still, you stand on your tippy toes and tilt your head upwards, waiting for Toji to meet you. He leans down, holding eye contact with you, as his lips come closer and closer. Once his nose is right next to yours and you feel his lips ghosting yours, he stops. He just loves the way you can't hide your fluster and how whenever you can't take it anymore, you resort to something you should have some sort of award for, by now—giggling.

"You're precious, ma," he says, his voice low. Dark eyes scan and re-memorize, for the nth time, every inch of your joyful expression, before finally he leans in the rest of the way, closing the distance between you and him.

His hands grip the back of your shirt as he feeds off your soft lips. Kiss after kiss, each one gentle and patient, demonstrating how much he truly longed for you. You feel butterflies in your stomach when you focus on the warmth of his body pressed against you and the way his lips chase yours for another kiss when you think he's finally going to pull away. His hands dip beneath your shirt to feel the bare, soft, and warm skin of your back. The simple touch is enough to spread goosebumps all over you.

The final kiss is long. Your lips lock, but Toji stops there, not going with the usual synchronized flow of the previous kisses, and when you don't expect it, he lets out deep hum and releases your lips with a more audible smack. He gives you a dumb grin in response to the stars that returned to your eyes.

"Do the thing, baby," he says, rubbing your back while he waits for you to snap out of your minor daze. He stays in the same slightly leaned position and waits for the softness of your lips to meet his skin. You press a kiss onto the smooth scar on the corner of his lips for an equal amount of time as the long kiss you shared before and smile softly when you pull away, your feet flat on the ground, again.

His hands come out of your shirt and he grins at how bashful you've become, despite the amount of times you've done this. You wouldn't immediately know what "do the thing" means, if you weren't so accustomed to doing it.

"Got your favorites," he says, nodding towards the bag he set down on your couch. "Did you keep up with your end of the deal?" He jokes, expecting a proud nod from you, because you've never let him down.

"Lemon-lime or Cool Blue Gatorade, right?" You ask, walking towards the kitchen.

"That's right, doll," he confirms, following behind you.

After the wine incident, he chooses to stay sober with you. It's not that he doesn't want to experience drinking with you and see you be more laid back and playful, it's the fact that he knows that that version of you is altered by alcohol. Sober you isn't that way, and while he loves every version of you, your natural way of being is his favorite.

He could spend hours flustering and teasing you, watching the way you coil in on yourself when he stares at you for too long. Feeling the way your body melts against his when he holds you is one of his favorite things. He likes being able to coax you into voicing your thoughts, wants, and needs. Maybe you're a little more honest about deeper matters when you're inebriated, but Toji is smart enough to know that it's practically involuntary. It's like your secrets are being spilled without your permission and while he's glad to know these things in the moment, he would rather hear them from you when you aren't drunk.

"I got you both. I didn't know which you liked more, so I just got both of them," you say, grabbing them off one of the shelves in your fridge. You turn and hand the cold drinks to Toji before going back to grab the one you got for yourself. You step back and shut the fridge door, smiling at him when he just stares at you.

"What?" You question.

He doesn't say anything for a few seconds. Just silently observes you standing in your small kitchen, in comfy, baggy pajamas that match his own. You're shifting on your feet, under his gaze, waiting for a response, but the response that he has in mind is a little too much for the lightness of the night. Something about wanting to spend the rest of his life with you, something about coming home to you every day, something about putting a shiny rock on your finger. Something big, because his feelings for you are big.

"Nothing, ma," he says, tucking both juice bottles between his forearm and his side, so that he can rest his hand on the back of your neck as you walk back out to the living room. You grab the bag of snacks off the couch and head to your bedroom together.

You set the bag of snacks on the bed and sit down on your side. Toji has a designated side on your bed, which is, of course, the other side.

"Light on or off?" Toji asks, shutting the door.

"Off?" You say, with a questioning tone, leaving room for him to object. Shortly after, the room goes dark. Only your TV, which sits idly on its home screen, creates light that illuminates the walls. Toji walks around your bed and settles into his side.

"What are we watching, this time?" He asks, reaching for the pack of sour gummy bears.

"It's your turn to choose," you say, offering the remote to him. "Last time we watched a bunch of Disney movies. I don't know if you wanna do that again," you say, smiling sheepishly.

"You doubt your taste in things too much, ma. Those Toy Story movies were pretty good. Show me another one of your favorites."

"Alright," you say, in compliance. You go to the Disney+ application and search for another favorite. Nothing too sing song-y, because you feel like you're on thin ice already in playing these animated movies for him. You got away with Jessie singing "When She Loved Me" in Toy Story 2, because even he thought the poor cowgirl got a rough deal when she was abandoned.

"Ratatouille?" He reads. "What's that about?"

"We're about to watch it," you say, briefly turning over and smiling.

He hums as he looks over the caption beneath the title that explains the synopsis of the movie.

"The rat's gonna cook? This should be interesting."

Lo and behold, he's hooked. Neither of you has made a peep and you're both mindlessly snacking on candy and chips, sipping on Gatorade, while watching the crazy things in this rat's life unfold. Him and his brother survived being struck by lightning and being shot at by an old lady with a shotgun. That part seemed to amuse Toji plenty.

Towards the end of the movie, Toji turns to you with sour sugar unknowingly speckled on his lips from the candy he's been feasting on, and leans in to press kisses to your temple and cheek.

"Watch," you say, smiling at the softness that meets your skin.

"I'm watching," he murmurs, continuing on with his sticky kisses.

"Look, they're stealing food from the kitchen," you explain, shocked despite already knowing what's going to happen.

"Mm," Toji hums, seemingly interested, but continuing on with his affectionate, sugary pecks.

"Look, you're gonna miss it," you say, giggling as you gently push his face away. It completely backfires on you, because he just grabs your wrist, and pulls your hand down to continue on with his kisses.

"Come here," he says, hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you so that you're sitting right beside him, your thigh touching his and your shoulder pressed into his side. With a few more pecks to your cheek and a couple to the top of your head, he faces forward and continues watching the movie.

"Damn, they got shut down?" He says, in disbelief.

"Mhm," you hum in response, unable to answer verbally due to the chips in your mouth.

"Oh shit, they're back," Toji says, taking in the remainder of the movie. "And Remy cooks without controlling Spaghetti?"

"Linguini," you correct, with a laugh. "But yeah. Linguini's a waiter, now, and Remy's a chef."

The artistic end credits begin to appear and you turn to look at Toji.

"So... what did you think?" You ask.

"That had more action than The Terminator," he jokes. "The old lady with the shotgun was trying take out Remy and his brother and then she tried to hit the entire colony of rats with gas."

You giggle as he goes in depth of what he remembers, as if to prove to you that he was watching.

"I liked that one too," he says, with a smirk. "Would definitely watch it, again."

"Good," you chirp, internally proud that you were able to show him something good. "Your turn," you say, offering him the remote.

"You go again," he says, grabbing another sour gummy to dodge the remote.

"Toji," you mumble. "You should choose something you like. I wouldn't mind watching something new, too."

In truth, Toji doesn't want to watch explosive, gore infested, action movies when he's with you. It's the only genre he's thoroughly explored apart from some comedy, so he leaves you to do the choosing of the movies and shows you watch together. It's a great way for him to give new things a chance, because even though it seems like he's always the one showing you how and loosening the tight grip you have on the shell that obscures you, he's constantly learning from you, as well.

"How 'bout this, baby... If you choose the next one, i'll choose the next three," he offers, squeezing the plush of your thigh.

"You promise?" You say, eyes darting from where his enormous hand rests on your leg, to his face.

"'Course. I don't lie to you," he says.

"Okay, then," you say, moving onto a different platform to find another movie.

"While I wait..." he mumbles, a soft smile curling on his lips. His hand moves from your thigh to your waist as he wraps his arm around you. He goes back to kissing the side of your face, soft, wet little smooches planted along your cheek and your jaw.

"Gorgeous girl," he hums, his voice a soft breath against your skin. "I'm dying to kiss those pretty lips."

Your lips curl as you continue skimming through the section of recommended movies. You can feel his eyes on you, tracing over the features of your face.

"Just a quick one and then i'll stop bugging you," he requests. "Please? You're teasing me without even trying."

"But I'm not even doing anything," you argue, with a small laugh.

"That's what i'm saying," he says, in agreement. "You're not even trying. You're just pretty like that. Makes me wanna kiss you 'til you can't breathe."

"What? You said a quick one, just a few seconds ago," you remind, your smile widening at the way he changed his mind about wanting the minimum of your affection.

"Yeah, but you know how greedy I am about you, mama. I want more and more of you, all the time." His gaze flits between your coy smile and the softness that lingers in your eyes. You haven't paused your skimming of the movies, but he knows you're staring at the screen, mindlessly, feeling his attention. "You want me to beg?"

"No," you instantly respond. It's the one thing you never allow him to do. He's too good to you, for you to make him beg. "You don't have to do that."

"So, kiss me, sweetheart," he says, shifting positions so that he's lying down on his side. He pats the pillow that cushions your lower back, signaling for you to lie down. Like the obedient thing you are for him, you click play on the random movie you landed on and set the remote aside, before lying down on your side, facing Toji.

"What movie did you decide on?" He asks, dragging his knuckles tenderly over your cheek.

"I didn't look at the name," you answer, softly.

"We can skip the intro, right?" He murmurs, smirking when he feels the warmth that reaches your face beneath his palm. His thumb strokes the skin of your cheek, back and forth as he keeps up with your gaze, even when it derails from his due to the tension in the moment.

"Mhm," you hum.

"Come here," he instructs, his voice low, almost a whisper. His leg goes between your legs, just sitting there to achieve more physical contact with you. It doesn't go further than the desire to be innocently caught up in you and feel you pressed against him.

The first kisses—if they can even be called that—are tentative and teasing. Lips merely ghosting each other, barely grasping contact. It's enough to have your heart thudding rapidly in your chest. You hear a warm, rumbled chuckle coming from Toji.

"Closer," Toji hums, his hand splaying on your back and pushing you forward into him.

Finally, your lips connect. The feeling is warm, like you're being held, securely, without any intention of being released. The sound of the movie in the background is a mere whir, unheard through the imaginary force field created around you and Toji. It's just you and him, close as can be, living like nothing else matters as long as you have this love. Through gentle caresses, one unsteady heartbeat and an even unsteadier one, things are good.

Toji swears he will never feel this content and at peace anywhere else. You have a way of making him feel like he is everything. The way your eyes twinkle when you see him, the way you bare your soul to him every time you smile—it's love. It's pure, unadulterated love. He's your friend, your lover, your confidant, and he will never settle for being anything less than those things.

With one more brush of your lips, you both put the kissing on hold and lay there, just a little bit breathless. His hand rests on your lower back, playing with the hem of your shirt.

"I love you so fucking much, doll. You know that?" He murmurs, his attention bouncing between your lips that won't stop calling for him to kiss them and the warmth in your eyes. "Fridays aren't just another day, anymore. Same for every day I get to see you or even just talk to you on the phone if we can't be together." A soft sigh escapes his nose, followed by a very brief pause. "You just know how to make things better, and I wish you would believe it because you feel that way too, not just because i'm telling you."

"I'm sorry," you mumble.

"No. I don't want that, baby. Tell me something else."

"I love you, Toji," you say, ensuring that you speak clearly so that he gets the important words you need him to hear. "I like being around you. You'll never know just how safe you make me feel, but I do want you to know that it goes past the physical aspect."

He smiles, the expression soft, not telling of the giddiness that just spread throughout his body. A soft hum, followed by a somewhat frustrated sounding groan, precedes you being pulled into his tight embrace. You can't help the giggles that eventually evolve into laughter that just spills from you when he bombards your face with kisses. His lips press against your cheeks, the tip of your nose, the corners of your lips before he actually leaves a rapid barrage of pecks on your lips. Deep chuckles slip through his affectionate assault when you plant your hand on his chest, weakly pushing at him through the joyous sound of your laugh.

"T-Toji!" You squeal, your entire body shaking through your nonstop laughter. Despite it being nighttime, Toji feels like he's kissing and cuddling with the sun. His cheeks almost hurt from smiling so much.

With one final, elongated kiss to your forehead, he relents and lets you catch your breath. Soft giggles continue to flow past your lips as you work on composing yourself.

"You drive me crazy, doll," he says, grinning at how your chest still slightly heaves. He could do this every night with you, in a shared bed, that is in your shared bedroom, in your shared home.

"Alright, let's see what this movie's about," he mutters, flipping onto his back. "Come here." By now, the two words are a staple to Toji's conversations with you, because he always wants you attached to him. He outstretches his arm, and waits for you to scooch over and lay your head on his chest. Once you settle in, his arm wraps around you, tightly.

As you both try to catch up on what is going on in the movie, you realize none of it is making sense. You think it might be futile to try and understand what is happening when it may have been explained during the intro, but neither you nor Toji mind it, and just continue watching through the confusion, because the intro to this movie was never going to be as good as the moment you shared during it.

[randomstore]

okay but this is my generation. and to see people so casually do this every single day hurts me so much. need an essay idea? ask ai! want a list of goals for your life? chat gpt can help you! want to draw something? just come up with a prompt and the art is yours.

if I had to guess, around a quarter to half of the thesis statements in my honors english class this semester were made with ai. nobody seems to bat an eye but me. stuff like ai 'art' seems to irk more people, but there's a noticeable part of the population who just doesn't really care.

maybe it's because I'm a writer. an artist. I spend so much of my life consuming the art people have made with their own hands and their own souls and creating my own that it does not make sense to spend my time trying to make less art. art made by real humans has shaped who i want to be as a person. every ounce of emotion and struggle that goes into that art shows how much they wanted to make it exist and that emotion and that struggle is what makes it art.

also, why would I want to outsource my thinking? my beliefs and values are the things that make me who I am, more than any simple physical traits and skills I possess. my goals are uniquely my own and to hand any part of that process of development over to a machine that can never really know me feels strange. all it will ever do is spit out what the majority of people want to do, never accounting for who you want to be. I have found no easier way to find what I want to do than to go on a walk or just sit and contemplate. alone. only with my thoughts, which isn't always fun. but it gets me somewhere. I know myself better afterwards, even if just a little bit.

maybe it's just because I'm an artist. but I don't want to see people jump at the opportunity to do less of what makes them human.

the generational gap between me and the people my age who use chat gpt

[yunholic-jongholic]

Bound to the Bosses [Part 1] | C.JH x Reader x J.YH

SUMMARY | At the age of 20, you surrendered your freedom to a former mafia gang in exchange for a secure life and all your needs met. You pledged your existence to two of the members, Choi Jongho and Jeong Yunho, who managed the leading underground strip club and took you under his wing. They both permit you to perform on weekend nights, but once the lights go out and the workday ends, you belong solely to both of them.

PAIRINGS | Jongho x Fem!Reader x Yunho

RATING | Mature, 18+, NSFW, MDNI!!!

CONTENT WARNINGS | Mean Dom!Yunho, Mean Dom!Jongho, Strip Club Setting, NSFW, SMUT, Explicit Content, Alcohol Consumption, Cursing, Smoking, Mentions of Murder, Threats, Possessiveness, Jealousy, Threesome, Power Dynamics, Teasing, Foreplay, Hair Pulling, Fingering, Degrading, Praising, Dry Humping, Oral Sex (Reader Giving), Unprotected Sex (Don't do it...), Rough Sex, Marking, Bruises, Multiple Orgasms, Creampie, Cum-Eating, Size Kink, Overstimulation (THERE IS SO MUCH. IM CRYING. I DEFINETLY MISSED SOME. ILL COME BACK)

WORD COUNT | 5.3k

AUTHOR NOTE | 💋 Spicyyyyyy ;) Anyways, new 2HO Story. Tag List is now open to whoever wants to join (you can comment or message me!) This is a long LONG chapter series. (Most likely will be 8-10 chapters.) There will be more trigger warnings on each chapter since its very angsty. so please make sure to read warnings each chapter. Hope y'all enjoy this new story!

•

The distant wail of police sirens blended with the thumping bass of music booming from downstairs. Sitting in front of the mirror, you carefully applied your makeup, smoothing each line and adjusting your hair with practiced precision.

Yet, despite the familiar routine, a heavy sigh escaped your lips. Your stomach twisted in uneasy knots, the uncertainty creeping in—did you really want to step out there and perform tonight?

You stood up, slipping on your shoes and preparing yourself for another night of work. Stepping out of the room, you noticed someone standing silently in the hallway, eyes fixed on the world outside through the window. It was Seonghwa—the one who played the role of the gang’s unofficial caretaker, almost motherly in his demeanor.

You approached him, hesitating slightly before asking, “Have you seen Jongho anywhere?”

Without tearing his gaze from the window, Seonghwa replied, “He’s with Mr. Kim right now.” He exhaled a plume of smoke, the faint haze curling around his face before his eyes flicked toward you, sharp and piercing.

You swallowed, your voice wavering as you continued, “Could you... could you let him know I need to speak with him downstairs? It’s about my weekly allowance. Thank you.”

Seonghwa’s stare lingered a moment longer, his expression unreadable as he took another slow drag from his cigarette. “He’ll be informed,” he said flatly before turning his attention back to the view outside.

You murmured another thanks, his detached demeanor leaving an uneasy feeling in your chest. Shaking it off, you made your way downstairs, the muffled music growing louder with each step.

Descending the stairs, the dim lights cast a hazy glow over the room, shadows dancing to the rhythm of the pounding music. The bass vibrated through the floor, mingling with the murmur of voices and clinking glasses. You made your way to the bar, the cool surface grounding you as you leaned against it.

Before diving into the night’s performance, you needed a drink to steady your nerves. You signaled to the bartender, the familiar ritual bringing a brief sense of comfort amidst the chaos.

“Hey, I didn’t think you worked behind the bar,” you remarked, surprised to see who was serving drinks tonight.

Turning around with a playful grin, Wooyoung leaned casually against the counter, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Yeah, well, I like to switch things up now and then,” he replied, effortlessly charismatic.

You couldn’t help but smirk. From what you knew about the gang, Wooyoung was the loud, energetic one, but beneath his playful exterior, he was one of the sharpest minds when it came to decision-making and planning. His unpredictable nature kept everyone on their toes—tonight was no exception.

He slid a glass across the bar toward you, his eyes flicking over you with curiosity. “Starting off the night with a drink, huh? Rough evening already?” He teased.

“Don’t make me tell you... I’m just exhausted from... stuff.” You sighed, your shoulders sagging as you lifted the glass to your lips, taking a long, deep gulp. The burn was familiar, grounding, and it was just what you needed to face the night ahead.

Wooyoung watched you, his playful demeanor softening for a moment, but he didn’t press further. He knew better than to pry.

Placing the empty glass back on the bar, you offered him a nod before turning away, the music growing louder as you approached the stage. The lights were low, the crowd buzzing with anticipation. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself as you stepped into the spotlight, ready to perform despite the exhaustion weighing heavy on your shoulders.

While you were performing, your eyes scanned the dimly lit room, drawn to a familiar figure standing in the corner. Jongho. His presence was unmistakable—calm, composed, yet intensely focused on you. He stood with his back against the wall, a glass in hand, the amber liquid swirling gently as he took measured sips. His expression was unreadable, stoic and serious, his eyes never leaving you.

As the music faded and the lights dimmed, you wrapped up your routine, the applause a distant hum as your attention stayed on him. Steeling yourself, you made your way over, weaving through the crowd until you were face-to-face.

Jongho’s gaze was cold, his features rigid, revealing nothing of his thoughts. His eyes flicked over you, analyzing, calculating, before finally meeting yours. The air between you felt heavy, the weight of his stare pressing down on you. You opened your mouth to speak but hesitated, the words caught in your throat as his expression remained unyielding.

“Jongho... Mr. Choi,” you began, your voice steady despite the tension in the air. “I need to discuss my weekly allowance.”

He took another slow sip from his glass, his eyes never leaving yours as he lowered it. “So, what do you need now?” His tone was even, almost indifferent, but the sharpness in his gaze was unmistakable.

You swallowed, feeling the knot tighten in your stomach, but you pressed on. “Well... I wanted to ask for a raise this month,” you admitted, your voice softening as you continued. “I need to buy some new clothes... mine are getting worn out.”

Jongho’s eyes flicked over you, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face before his expression returned to its usual cold demeanor. He leaned back against the bar, his posture relaxed but his gaze unrelenting.

Jongho’s lips curled into a faint smirk, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. “Well, since you’re done with your dance session, you can come to my office. We’ll discuss it there.” His voice was calm, almost too casual, but his gaze was sharp, traveling slowly over your figure before meeting your eyes once more.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you maintained your composure, giving him a small nod. “Alright.”

Without another word, Jongho turned on his heel, making his way through the crowded room. You followed close behind, weaving through the sea of people as the music continued to pulse around you.

The journey felt longer than it should have, your mind racing with anticipation. You could feel his presence just ahead of you, calm and commanding, his pace steady and confident. Reaching his office, Jongho unlocked the door and stepped inside, holding it open just long enough for you to follow before closing it behind you.

The room was dimly lit, the faint glow from the city outside casting shadows along the walls. You stood there, your pulse quickening as you waited for him to speak, he locked the door behind you. Going to the desk, his back turned to you as he set his drink down on the desk.

"You know u are the one who ruins your own clothing." Jongho hums. Getting closer to you as he caresses your face with the back of his fingers. You look into his eyes and nod.

“Yes, sir. I know,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as his fingers lightly traced the curve of your bottom lip. His touch was gentle but commanding, sending a shiver down your spine. Your breath hitched, the tension in the room thickening—but before anything else could happen, a sharp knock echoed from the door.

Jongho’s expression shifted instantly, his jaw tightening as he pulled his hand away, irritation flickering in his eyes. He released a low, frustrated groan before turning on his heel and striding over to the door.

You stood frozen in place, nerves coiling tight as you watched him unlock and open it. Peeking over his shoulder, you recognized Seonghwa standing on the other side, his usual calm demeanor unchanged.

“Y/N was looking to talk to you,” Seonghwa said, his voice steady, his eyes flicking briefly to you before returning to Jongho.

Jongho sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I’m already talking to her,” he replied, his tone curt but controlled.

Seonghwa nodded, his expression unreadable as he took a step back. “Understood.” Without another word, he turned and walked away, his presence disappearing down the hallway.

Jongho shut the door with a click, his fingers lingering on the lock as he turned it firmly. His back remained to you for a moment, his shoulders tense, before he slowly turned around, his eyes locking onto yours once more. The air felt heavy again, the tension from before returning even stronger.

Jongho’s smirk returned, his eyes narrowing slightly as he crossed his arms, leaning casually against his desk. “So, here’s the deal,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “I need you to get back to work. Once your shift is over, come back to my office, and we’ll sort out your weekly allowance.”

His gaze lingered on you, a teasing glint in his eyes, his smirk never fading. The implication behind his words was clear, but his tone remained composed and controlled.

You felt your heart skip, but you managed a nod, keeping your expression neutral. “Yes, sir,” you replied, your voice steady even as nerves buzzed under your skin.

Without another word, you turned and unlocked the door, your fingers trembling just slightly. You could feel his eyes on you as you stepped out, the door closing behind you with a soft click.

Taking a deep breath, you steadied yourself before heading back to the main floor, the music and lights pulling you back into the rhythm of the night.

The hours dragged on, the music pounding relentlessly as you moved through the motions, one performance after another. By the time the clock hit 5 a.m., exhaustion weighed heavy on you. You sighed, wiping the sweat from your brow as you counted the night’s earnings—over $500. Not bad, but all you wanted now was to collapse in your bed.

Your mind was foggy, and the promise to see Jongho after your shift slipped away as fatigue took over. You made your way upstairs, each step feeling heavier than the last as you headed straight to your room.

But as you neared your door, the low murmur of voices caught your attention. It was coming from the room down the hall. The door was cracked open just enough for sound to seep through. You hesitated, curiosity stirring despite your exhaustion.

Quietly, you crept closer, careful to stay out of sight as you peered inside. Hongjoong stood in the center of the room, his back to you, his posture tense. Opposite him was Seonghwa, his arms crossed, face unusually serious. The air between them felt heavy, the conversation clearly intense.

You strained to listen, heart beating a little faster as you tried to make out their words, unsure of what you were about to overhear.

Your blood ran cold as the conversation became clearer.

“Well, we need to get rid of the body. Yunho said the guy tried threatening he would kidnap Y/N and kill her,” Hongjoong’s voice was low and sharp, barely contained anger seeping through his words.

Seonghwa’s glare was fierce, his jaw clenched as he responded, “I told the others that we’re not going back to a life of crime. We agreed to leave that behind. I say we punish Yunho for breaking our new rules.” His voice was cold, unyielding.

Hongjoong fell silent, his expression conflicted, but he didn’t argue.

Your heart plummeted, panic rising in your chest. Yunho... killed someone? And now the leaders were planning to punish him? But what did that even mean? You shuddered at the possibilities, dread coiling tight in your stomach.

You backed away from the door, feeling the world spin around you. It was suddenly hard to breathe, the air feeling heavy and suffocating. Without another thought, you turned and hurried back to your room, your mind racing with fear and confusion.

What were you supposed to do now? What would happen to Yunho? And if they found out you overheard, what would they do to you?

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, your face pale, eyes wide with lingering shock. Your heart was still racing, but you forced yourself to breathe, pushing down the fear and anxiety that threatened to consume you. With practiced precision, you buried your emotions, slipping back into a composed façade.

Your hands moved mechanically as you began undressing, shedding the remnants of the night’s performance in favor of something more comfortable. Just as you reached for a shirt, a sudden knock echoed from your door.

Your heart jumped, panic momentarily flaring before you snapped into action, quickly pulling on the closest set of clothes. You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to appear calm before opening the door.

Standing before you were Yunho. His expression was neutral, unreadable, his tall frame leaning casually against the doorframe.

“Oh! I thought you were Jongho... I completely forgot to see him after my shift,” you blurted out, your voice rushed as you tried to mask your nerves.

Yunho’s brow furrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Unnecessary details,” he replied bluntly, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at you. There was no hint of warmth in his voice, just cold indifference.

You swallowed, trying to keep your composure. Every word from his mouth echoed in your mind, mingling with what you had just overheard. You couldn’t help but wonder—did he know? Did he suspect you had heard everything?

“What... what brings you here?” you asked, fighting to keep your voice steady, hoping he couldn’t sense your fear.

“Did you make money tonight? I need to pay Hongjoong back,” Yunho asked, his voice calm but firm, his eyes coldly scanning the room.

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of Hongjoong, the memory of his conversation with Seonghwa flashing through your mind. You felt a lump form in your throat but forced yourself to stay composed.

“Y-Yeah... I made over $500 tonight,” you stammered, your voice barely steady. Not wanting to provoke his impatience, you quickly moved across the room to where you’d stashed your earnings.

Your fingers fumbled slightly as you retrieved the cash, the weight of his gaze heavy on your back. Turning around, you saw his eyes fixed on you, unblinking and expectant.

You took a few steps toward him, holding out the money. “Here. This is everything I made tonight.”

Yunho’s eyes flicked down to the cash before reaching out, his fingers brushing against yours as he took the bills from your hand. His expression remained unreadable, his demeanor cool and detached as he began counting the money.

You watched him in silence, your heart racing as you waited for his reaction, unsure of what he would do next.

Yunho’s eyes lingered on the cash for a moment before he tucked it into his pocket. “I’ll be right back,” he said curtly, his voice giving nothing away as he turned and left the room.

Your chest tightened with worry, the memory of Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s conversation echoing in your mind. You couldn’t just sit back and wait.

Quietly, you slipped out of your room, trailing behind Yunho at a safe distance. You kept your footsteps light, your body pressed against the walls as you moved through the dimly lit hallway. The air felt colder, the silence unsettling as you watched him approach Hongjoong’s office.

He knocked once before entering, the door clicking shut behind him. You crept closer, your heart pounding as you leaned in, pressing your ear to the door.

Muffled voices filtered through, their tones low and serious. You could barely make out Hongjoong’s voice, cold and commanding, followed by Yunho’s calm but measured replies.

Your breath caught as the conversation grew more intense, the tension palpable even through the thick wood of the door. You pressed closer, desperately trying to hear more, hoping that Yunho would make it out unscathed.

Suddenly, the voices stopped. Your blood ran cold, panic flaring as you realized the room had gone completely silent. You held your breath, frozen in place, waiting to see what would happen next.

You pressed yourself closer to the door, heart pounding as the conversation grew clearer.

“Yunho,” Hongjoong’s voice was cold, his tone laced with disappointment. “Seonghwa and I know about your little incident earlier. You do realize we agreed—no more of this. We’re not allowed to get involved in these crimes again... not after what happened last time. It almost got Seonghwa killed.”

There was a heavy pause, the weight of Hongjoong’s words sinking in. Through the door, you could feel the tension radiating from the room.

Yunho let out a sigh, his voice quieter as he replied, “I... I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” There was a genuine remorse in his tone, but you could also hear the frustration buried beneath it.

The room went silent again before Hongjoong’s voice cut through, his words cold but calm. “Look, we’re not going to do anything drastic... but you could lose your title for this. We made rules for a reason. If you can’t follow them, you don’t deserve the position you have.”

You could almost picture the scene: Hongjoong’s eyes locked on Yunho, his presence imposing and unwavering. There was the sound of a chair scraping against the floor, and you realized Hongjoong had stood up.

The air grew heavy, your chest tightening as you heard his footsteps approach Yunho. “We can’t afford any more mistakes,” Hongjoong continued, his voice low. “Get your act together... or I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Your blood ran cold, your hands trembling as you clung to the door. You knew Yunho was in trouble, and if Hongjoong was serious, things could get a lot worse. You held your breath, waiting to see how Yunho would respond.

“Yes, boss,” Yunho’s voice was subdued, obedient, his defiance seemingly extinguished. You heard footsteps approaching the door, and your heart leapt in panic.

Without wasting another second, you darted away from the door, hurrying back to your room as quietly as possible. You slipped inside, shutting the door softly behind you, your heart pounding in your chest.

Sitting on your bed, you tried to catch your breath, your mind racing with everything you’d just heard. You couldn’t shake the coldness in Hongjoong’s voice, the threat lingering ominously. What would happen to Yunho now? And if they found out you were eavesdropping...

A sharp knock on your door snapped you out of your thoughts. Your heart jumped, panic briefly flashing through you. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself before calling out, “Come in.”

The door opened, and to your surprise, it was Jongho who stepped inside. He closed the door behind him, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp as they locked onto you.

“Oh!” you blurted out, guilt from spying on Yunho and Hongjoong still fresh in your mind. You quickly composed yourself, remembering why he was here. “Oh, right... my allowance...” you muttered under your breath, feeling slightly embarrassed for forgetting.

Jongho raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he approached you. “Did you have a good night at work?” he asked, his tone casual, but his eyes seemed to be searching for something, observing you closely.

You nodded, keeping your response brief, the tension from earlier still weighing heavily on you. Jongho stood over you, his presence imposing as his eyes lingered on you, his expression unreadable.

Before he could say anything, another knock interrupted the moment. You sighed, the fatigue and anxiety catching up to you as you turned your head toward the door. Jongho’s eyes narrowed, annoyance flickering across his face as he looked over, clearly displeased by the interruption.

The door creaked open, and Yunho stood there, his face void of emotion, his eyes flicking between you and Jongho. The tension in the room grew heavy, the air thickening as the two men stared each other down.

“It was my turn tonight,” Jongho snapped, his irritation evident as he crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing at Yunho. His posture was firm, claiming his authority without hesitation.

Yunho’s jaw tightened, his eyes hardening as he stood his ground. “We both share her,” he retorted coldly, his voice laced with defiance. “And if anything, I was already about to fuck her... I just had to pay Hongjoong back first.”

Your heart skipped a beat, your face flushing a deep shade of red as their words sank in. Their bluntness left no room for misinterpretation, and the realization hit you hard—they were both in the mood, and they both wanted you tonight.

You swallowed, the tension between them palpable as they stood on either side of you, their eyes flicking to you before returning to each other. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, your mind spinning as you processed the situation.

Jongho’s eyes narrowed, his irritation turning into something darker, his stance unwavering as he stepped closer, his gaze never leaving Yunho. “You had her last time. Tonight, she’s mine.” His voice was firm, possessive, his authority undeniable.

Yunho’s lips curled into a mocking smirk; his demeanor calm but his eyes flashing with challenge. “That’s not how it works, Jongho. We agreed to share, remember?” His tone was taunting, his posture relaxed but his intent unmistakable.

Caught between them, you could feel the tension crackling in the air, their rivalry intensifying right in front of you. Your pulse quickened; your body frozen as you realized you were the center of their standoff.

"Fine. you are so damn greedy now." Jongho hisses. "You can go after me." He finished as he starts lifting your shirt up exposing your skin. You just sat there in shock flickering your eyes on both of them.

"I am not going after you." Yunho glares at Jongho. Jongho smirks pulling you onto his lap. "We are sharing her tonight." Yunho's voice got deeper. You look into Jongho's eyes nervously feeling your face heat up. You shifted on Jongho's lap trying to sit more comfortably until you felt Yunho's hands travel up your body, snaking over your neck caressing your cheeks. You soon started leaning towards Jongho to kiss him, Jongho's lips crashed into yours as you both started making out.

You felt Yunho removing the rest of your clothes off, exposing your entire body to both of them. Jongho was the first to pull away and reattach his lips onto your neck sucking and kissing the skin. You moaned and slowly started moving your hips on Jongho grinding on him. Jongho groaned at the feeling, gripping your waist to keep you moving on him.

"She is so fucking needy." Jongho teased looking up at Yunho. "She is already soaking." Jongho let go of your neck and waist pushing you off causing you to whine. Yunho smirked and immediately pulled you onto his lap.

"Is that so?" Yunho smirked whispering and nipping on your earlobe. You nod softly as Yunho re-adjusts his position underneath you and places both of his hands on your breasts, squeezing them as they were stress balls. You whimpered at the feeling, Yunho smirking at your reactions. Yunho resting his chin on your shoulder as he continues to play with your breasts, squeezing and rubbing them.

Jongho on the other hand was now unzipping his pants, pulling his cock out. Yunho groaned as you started shifting on his lap softly grinding on his crotch.

"Fuck, you are needy." Yunho hisses. You hum in response. "Okay stop teasing me Y/N." Yunho throws you off of him and pins you on the bed.

"So, who is taking what tonight?" Jongho asks. Yunho sighs, looking down at you.

"Actually, I will take her mouth. I want to see her pretty face as I fuck her." Jongho smirks. Yunho nods just accepting it. Yunho flips you over and forces you on your knees as he stands behind you. You watch Jongho go over you and kneel down in front of you.

Yunho slides his hand over in between your folds rubbing two fingers back and forth before doing anything else. You immediately start moaning trying to close your legs together but his other hand grips one thigh to keep them open.

"Yunho!" You moan trying to stay calm, but you can't. Soon Jongho grips your face and presses his tip against your lips forcing himself in. Your eyes started watering but kept moaning and now gagging.

"Fuck..." Jongho curses now gripping ahold of your hair holding it up. You felt Jongho's cock twitch inside your mouth and soon you felt Yunho's hand leave, being replaced with his cock. You felt your insides go into knots as Yunho shoved himself deep inside you.

"She is completely wet..." Yunho breathing got heavy as he slowly started thrusting in and out of you.

"She is enjoying this too much." Jongho groans. You feel Jongho's tip hit the back of your throat causing you to gag and cough out.

"Too much to handle?" Jongho looks down at you keeping himself deep inside your throat. You look up at him feeling completely dizzy, eyes tearing up and you moan louder sending vibrations against Jongho's cock as Yunho slams harder into you. You felt your legs going numb as you kept trying to hold yourself up.

"Stop shaking like a weak scared puppy." Yunho groans and grips your waist tightly, sure to leave bruises tomorrow. You moan out and immediately pull away from Jongho's cock. Drool and saliva stick to your bottom lip and the tip of his cock as you moan loudly from the pleasure Yunho is giving you.

"Fucking bitch." Jongho snaps pulling your hair back and slamming himself back into your mouth. You have no chance to breath or moan. You try to grab ahold of jongho's thighs trying to hold on. Jongho pushes your head deeper, soon you started swirling your tongue around his shaft.

"Fuck I am close..." Jongho curses. Yunho groans bucking his hips into you. Wasn't very long until Jongho came right inside your mouth. Yunho on the other hand was still fucking you and Jongho finally pulled his cock out as he looked down at you leaning towards you.

"Make sure you swallow it all." Jongho speaks as you try to. Your nose scrunches up, but you just obey his order and continue moaning. Yunho hisses as you feel his cock twitch inside you.

"Fuck..." He curses as he releases inside you. You heavily breath out, chest puffing in and out as you try to catch your breath. You whine as Yunho pulls out of you.

"She is completely fucked." Jongho’s smirk deepened as he reached out, his fingers gripping your chin, tilting your face up toward him.

His touch was firm, commanding, yet there was a certain level of control behind it. Your breath hitched, your body tense under his intense gaze. Your eyes were clouded with exhaustion, struggling to stay open after the long night. Everything felt hazy.

"Look at me," Jongho murmured, his voice low but demanding. His thumb brushed over your cheek, his smirk never fading. "I think I can do another round with her." Jongho hums looking into your eyes.

"We can swap places this time. I want to see her pretty face now." Yunho gets up switching sides with Jongho. You felt completely weak and didn't think you could handle a 2nd round with both of them.

You looked at Yunho completely tired. He leans down towards you sitting on his knees.

"You are doing a good job tonight..." Yunho hums caressing your face. You shifted on your knees looking into his eyes blushing as his compliment.

Very soon you felt Jongho slam deep into you causing you to cry out. Your arms gave up and immediately fell onto Yunho's lap feeling over stimulated inside.

"Get up." Yunho picks your face up harshly squeezing your face. You look up at him moaning once again as Jongho grips your waist, pounding into you.

"Jongho!" You moan loudly out gripping onto Yunho's thighs, digging your nails into them looking up at Yunho. Yunho smirked as he presses his cock against your lips. You leave a soft lick against the tip, moaning against it.

"Fuck." Yunho hisses at the feeling. You feel your insides completely melting.

"I don't even think you can fit me in your mouth..." Yunho hums as you continue licking and moaning against him.

"Hm? Got nothing to say?" Yunho smirks. You turn your head to the side but immediately get turned back towards Yunho. He grips your face harshly causing you to whine.

"I bet she is enjoying this." Jongho groans. Yunho nods in agreement as he sits up and pushes himself down your throat. You immediately cough at the feeling of it hitting the back of your throat. You try to swirl your tongue around the shaft as Yunho starts bucking his hips into your throat.

"Fuck. Y/N." Yunho groans throwing his head back as he continues. "She definitely is..." He grips ahold of your hair biting his lower lip.

"She is taking us very well... She deserves a great allowance this week." Jongho readjusts himself before slamming back into you. You were soaked and messy all over.

"I am close again..." Jongho moaned as his thrusts got sloppier, you soon felt another release inside you. Yunho was still fucking you and not very long until he came inside your mouth as well.

"Make sure you swallow it..." Yunho huffs out as he pulls himself out. You nod and try your best feeling completely wrecked and messy.

"I... Can't do anymore..." You whimper feeling your body tremble as you fell onto Yunho's lap after the sessions.

"You did amazing tonight..." Yunho caresses your face, and you can tell they were satisfied with you.

"You need to take a shower and get ready for bed. We will pay you later." Jongho helps you up from Yunho's lap and you nod slightly leaning against Jongho completely exhausted.

"We might need to help her take a shower." Jongho laughs at how weak you are now.

"N-No. I can do it." You huff out pushing yourself up and grabbing clothes to take a shower.

After your shower, you rushed straight to bed, exhaustion weighing down on you. The moment your head hit the pillow, your body relaxed, ready to finally drift into much-needed sleep. But before you could completely unwind, the door creaked open.

Jongho.

You groaned, pulling the blanket up slightly. “Please… I’m too tired. No more,” you whined, your voice muffled against the pillow.

To your surprise, Jongho chuckled. “No, I’m not here for that,” he reassured you, his tone unusually light. “I wanted to give you a gift… along with your allowance.”

That caught your attention. You peeked up at him curiously as he approached your bedside, his usual confident expression softening ever so slightly.

“I was going to do it earlier,” he continued, irritation flashing across his face, “but Yunho interrupted.” His annoyance was evident, but he quickly shook it off, reaching into a bag.

“Don’t tell or show the others I got you this,” he muttered, almost embarrassed as he pulled out a plush teddy bear. The sight of it was almost comical in his hands, so out of place for someone like him. He looked almost… defeated, as if giving it to you made him feel exposed in a way he wasn’t used to.

Your heart warmed at the gesture. A small, genuine smile formed on your lips as you reached for the plush, hugging it tightly against your chest. “It’s very cute. Thank you, Jongho…” you murmured, your voice soft as you nestled into the comfort of the gift.

Jongho cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the moment stretching on. “Anyways… goodnight, Y/N,” he said quickly before turning to leave, his usual composed self-cracking just slightly.

As the door shut behind him, you buried your face into the plush bear, a rare sense of comfort washing over you. With a deep breath, you finally allowed sleep to take over, the tension of the night fading away.

•

DIES.

(Nothing else. No Notes. Sorry y'all I am a true freak.)

[honeyhae-svt]

(🧸ྀི)🖇 ༘ ⋆"My Brother's Bestfriend"

' ╰┈ 'who would've thought you'd end up in a tangled mess with your brother's bestfriend?'

' .☘︎ ݁˖' '원우 x f!reader

🎧ྀི 'ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Home (Seventeen) ♫⋆₊˚ ﾟ. 'ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ genre / tags: fluff, light angst, smut, established relationship, doting!boyfriend wonwoo, slightly possessive!wonwoo, light comedy, soft but intense makeout sessions, lap-sitting & straddling, emotional intimacy, domestic sweetness, wonwoo being obsessed with reader™, mild tension but nothing too serious, clingy!wonwoo (unintentionally), wonwoo official lipstick tester & lip plumper ੈ✩‧₊˚ warnings: NSFW WARNINGS UNDER THE CUT ! wonwoo being so whipped it's unfair, excessive cuteness & boyfriend material behavior, a little bit of yearning ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗ nsfw warnings: oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, overstimulation, semi-public sex, reader doesn't get pregnant, heavy & passionate makeout sessions, straddling wonwoo’s lap, deep kissing, light grinding, soft!but still kind of desperate!wonwoo, possessive whispers, needy touches, some lip biting, breathy moans, heated tension but still very loving ੈ✩‧₊˚ wc: 11,809 ੈ♡ a/n: i'm never going to shut up about wonwoo fics. i love this one and yeah, it's my favorite now. i don't even know if i want to end it, so i made a part two cause i love this way too much. if you don't like it, DON'T READ>>>don't steal my happiness.

It was a Friday—a perfect day to go outside, breathe in the fresh air, and maybe even touch some grass. But Wonwoo? He was planted in his chair, fingers flying over his keyboard, eyes locked on his screen as he dove deeper into his game. Sunlight streamed through his window, but he barely noticed. His entire focus was on his mission.

Then, of course, his phone rang.

The sudden vibration made him flinch, just in time for his in-game character to take a fatal hit. A sigh slipped past his lips, long and resigned, as the screen dimmed to black. Game over.

Annoyed, he reached for his phone without checking the caller ID. "What."

"Hey, Wonwoo!" Mingyu's voice rang through, far too cheerful for his liking. "You remember that money you owe me?"

Wonwoo leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple. "I paid you back."

"Yeah, like, half. You still owe me ₩103,000."

Wonwoo scowled. "What do you want, Mingyu?"

"I'll cancel the debt if you pick up my sister from her hagwon."

Wonwoo blinked. He could practically see Mingyu's smug face through the phone. "...Are you serious?"

"Dead serious. Think of it as a fair trade. You get out of debt, and I don't have to leave my photoshoot early. Win-win, right?"

Wonwoo exhaled sharply, glancing at the gaming laptop he had been saving up for. A hundred thousand won wasn't something he could just brush off. And really, what was so hard about picking someone up? He'd just drive there, wait, and drop her off. No big deal.

"Fine. Send me the details."

"Knew I could count on you!" Mingyu cackled before promptly hanging up.

Wonwoo stared at his phone, regretting everything.

Later that evening, Wonwoo pulled up in front of the hagwon (cram school), resting his arm on the window frame as he scrolled mindlessly through his phone. The street was packed—students flooding out, parents calling names, engines revving. He ignored all of it, his attention on the notifications lighting up his screen.

A knock on the window pulled him out of his trance. He looked up.

There you were, bright-eyed and smiling. Mingyu's sister. You had the same features as him, Mingyu was handsome, there was no second guessing you'd be really pretty as well.

It really runs on the family huh, but your energy was a complete contrast. Where Mingyu was overbearing, you seemed naturally lighthearted.

Wonwoo unlocked the door, watching as you slipped inside. "Hey, thanks for picking me up! I could've taken the bus, but this is definitely an upgrade."

He put his phone down and shifted into drive. "Mingyu made me."

"Obviously." You laughed, buckling your seatbelt. "If it were up to you, you'd rather be home playing some game, right?"

Wonwoo glanced at you briefly before focusing back on the road. "...Something like that."

You stretched out in the passenger seat, completely unfazed by his short responses. "Figures. My brother said you never leave your house unless it's life or death."

"He exaggerates. I go out when I need to."

"Mmm-hmm. Like now?"

"Like now."

You laughed again, shaking your head. "Unbelievable."

You both drove in silence for a bit, though it wasn't uncomfortable. You hummed softly to whatever song played on the radio, while Wonwoo kept his eyes on the road, appreciating the fact that you weren't forcing conversation.

Then, after a few minutes, you turned to him. "So, what's the real reason Mingyu couldn't pick me up?"

"I told you. Photoshoot."

You raised a brow. "And you believe that?"

Wonwoo hesitated, then shrugged. "Not really, but it's not my problem."

You grinned. "Smart man."

He smirked slightly but didn't comment.

When you pulled up in front of your house, you unbuckled your seatbelt and turned to him with an easygoing smile. "Thanks again, Wonwoo. I owe you one."

"No, you don't. Mingyu does."

You laughed. "True. But still, I appreciate it."

Wonwoo just gave a small nod. "It's fine."

As you stepped out of the car, you waved. "See you around!"

He didn't respond, but after you disappeared into the house, he lingered for a second longer than necessary before finally driving off.

Maybe the day hadn't been a total waste after all.

A couple of days later, Mingyu called Wonwoo again, but this time it wasn't for any money or favor. Instead, he was inviting him over to his apartment for a casual hangout.

"Yo, you coming? I'm having a few friends over tonight, including Joshua, Seungkwan, Vernon, and Minghao. It's nothing special, just wanted to hang out."

Wonwoo was about to decline—he had a ton of work to do—but then Mingyu dropped the one detail that made him reconsider.

"Oh, and my sister will be here too. She's staying with me for the weekend, so I figured you could catch up with her."

Wonwoo didn't immediately respond. It wasn't the idea of seeing Mingyu's sister that stopped him—it was more the fact that he wasn't entirely sure how to act around you yet. The two of you hadn't really had a chance to talk much after that brief car ride. He had no idea what you'd be like outside of that moment, and Mingyu always had a way of making everything a little awkward when it came to his little sister.

"...Fine," Wonwoo finally relented, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll stop by."

When Wonwoo arrived at Mingyu's apartment, the atmosphere was relaxed. Joshua was already lounging on the couch, casually scrolling through his phone, and a few other friends were scattered around, chatting. Mingyu was in the kitchen, preparing snacks—probably to feed his giant appetite. The usual loud energy that always accompanied Mingyu's presence was alive in the air.

But there was no sign of you.

Wonwoo made his way to the living room, greeting Joshua with a nod, but the silence between them was noticeable. Joshua shot him a playful glance, but before they could talk much more, Mingyu called out from the kitchen.

"Yo, Wonwoo! Help me with these drinks!"

Wonwoo reluctantly walked into the kitchen, but as soon as he stepped through the doorway, he froze.

There, standing at the counter, was you—completely at ease, casually chopping vegetables as if you'd been there the whole time. You looked up at him, your eyes lighting up in surprise.

"Oh, you're here!" you exclaimed with a smile, your hands still busy at the cutting board. "I didn't think you'd be the first one to show up."

Wonwoo blinked, a bit caught off guard. He hadn't expected to see you in the kitchen, especially not so comfortable.

"You're... here?" he said, unsure of how to react. "I thought you were... uh, I don't know... staying in your room or something."

You let out a small laugh, your eyes sparkling with amusement. "I was, but then Mingyu didn't have enough snacks. He asked me to help out." You gestured to the plates you had already prepped, your movements smooth and confident, as though you'd done this a thousand times. "I figured you'd all be hungry."

Wonwoo was honestly impressed. The last time he saw you, you were cheerful and talkative, but he didn't expect this... domestic side of you. He felt a little out of place in the kitchen, but he didn't want to act awkward.

"I'm sure Mingyu can handle it," he replied, trying to mask his surprise with a nonchalant tone.

You smirked, clearly catching onto his tone. "Yeah, but I'm sure he'll make a mess of it. You know how he is." You shook your head, looking back at your brother as Mingyu popped his head around the corner, grinning.

"I heard that!" Mingyu called, sticking his tongue out before retreating back to the living room.

You chuckled at his antics before focusing back on the food you were preparing. "Anyway, I'm glad you made it. I figured we'd finally have some time to talk," you said, your voice light and welcoming, making it clear you weren't bothered by the sudden interruption.

Wonwoo nodded, still trying to shake off the initial surprise. "Yeah, I guess we never really got to chat much." He leaned against the kitchen counter, unsure of where to go from there.

"You're a bit of a man of few words, huh?" you asked with a teasing grin, raising an eyebrow as you slid the plate of veggies aside. "Mingyu always talks about how you're so quiet, but I didn't realize it was this bad."

Wonwoo gave you a half-smile, feeling slightly embarrassed. "I don't talk much unless I have to," he said, his usual dry tone creeping through.

You just laughed, the sound easy and warm, making him feel less self-conscious. "Well, I'll make sure to fill the silence then," you said cheerfully, as if you were on a mission to make him feel comfortable. "You're kind of a hard nut to crack, but I think I can manage."

The tension that had been there earlier started to melt away, and Wonwoo found himself talking a little more than he usually did. You asked him questions, talked about school, and even joked about how overprotective Mingyu could be at times. As the minutes passed, he realized how much easier it was to talk to you than he initially thought.

By the time he moved back into the living room with the snacks, there was no awkwardness between the two of you anymore. You had succeeded in doing what few could—making Wonwoo feel at ease.

A few days later, Wonwoo had stayed at Mingyu's apartment, slacking off on the sofa while playing some horror games on Mingyu's television.

"You're really bad at Identity V, Mingyu," Wonwoo teased, getting a little frustrated at how Mingyu had to be revived multiple times.

"Just switch the game already, this one's boring," Mingyu groaned, throwing the controller to the side.

Wonwoo just chuckled, not even pausing the game.

Then, the doorbell rang.

Mingyu groaned, dragging himself off the couch. "Ah, right. I forgot—my sister was dropping off some kimchi from Mom before she heads to cram school."

When you stepped inside, you flashed Mingyu a quick smile before handing him the containers. "Mom said to eat it while it's fresh."

Mingyu took them with a nod, already peeking inside. "Smells good." Then, without looking up, he asked, "You want me to drop you off at cram school?"

You shook your head. "Nah, I'll just take the bus. It's not that far."

Wonwoo, who had been watching from the couch, found himself unexpectedly... disappointed? He wasn't sure why, but he had kind of looked forward to talking to you again. You were easy to be around—bubbly, charming, and not at all fazed by his quiet nature. Not many people could handle his silence so effortlessly.

Mingyu, meanwhile, was still leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. "You sure? It's getting late."

"I'll be fine," you insisted, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. "It's just cram school, not a different planet."

Wonwoo hesitated for a second before speaking up. "Hey."

You turned toward him, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

He cleared his throat, feeling a little out of place but saying it anyway. "I can walk you."

You blinked, clearly surprised. "Oh? Why, so you can chat me up again?" you teased with a wink.

Mingyu snorted, looking between the two of you. "Since when do you offer to walk people places, Wonwoo?"

Wonwoo shot him a look but didn't bother responding. Instead, he turned back to you, waiting for your answer.

You grinned, clearly amused by the whole situation. "Alright, alright. But no awkward silences, got it?"

Wonwoo nodded, grabbing his jacket as he followed you out the door. Mingyu watched the two of you leave, shaking his head with a grin. "Well, that's new."

Mingyu leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching the scene with growing amusement. Wonwoo wasn't the type to jump at social interactions, especially not when it came to people outside their usual circle. And yet, here he was, offering to walk you to hagwon like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Mingyu's brows furrowed, suspicion creeping in.

No way. Does Wonwoo... like my sister?

The thought nearly made him laugh out loud. He knew Wonwoo well—too well, in fact. His best friend wasn't the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve, let alone make some grand romantic gesture. But still, the way he lingered, the way his gaze flickered toward you, even the fact that he was putting in the effort to talk—something was definitely up.

Mingyu smirked, but he kept his mouth shut. For now.

"So," he drawled, pushing off the doorway, "you two gonna be alright?"

Wonwoo shot him a look, equal parts unimpressed and knowing. Meanwhile, you just rolled your eyes. "We'll survive, Gyu."

Mingyu chuckled. "Alright, alright. Have fun, lovebirds."

"Bye, Mingyu," you deadpanned, grabbing Wonwoo's wrist and tugging him down the hallway before your brother could say anything else. Wonwoo barely had time to process it before he was matching your pace, hands stuffed into his pockets.

The air between you was light, easy. You glanced up at him with a grin. "Didn't think I'd ever get you to walk me to hagwon. Kinda fun, huh?"

Wonwoo huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Not what I expected to be doing today, that's for sure."

You nudged him lightly. "What, hanging out with me is that bad?"

He glanced at you—really looked this time. You were different from Mingyu's usual crowd. Where his friends were loud and chaotic, you had this effortless energy that didn't demand anything from him. You just... talked, and somehow, he found himself talking back. It was weird, but not in a bad way.

"You're different," you mused, tilting your head. "I mean, I knew you were quiet, but you're not as... closed off as I thought you'd be."

Wonwoo smirked slightly, gaze forward. "I'm still quiet."

"Mm, not with me," you pointed out, eyes twinkling. "Why's that?"

Wonwoo hesitated, not because he didn't have an answer, but because he wasn't sure how to say it. Instead, he settled for the truth, plain and simple. "I don't feel like I have to try so hard with you."

Your steps slowed just slightly, your expression softening. "Huh. That's kinda nice."

He exhaled a small chuckle. "Guess you're a special case."

"Ooo, so I'm special?" you teased.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," he muttered, but the faint smile on his face gave him away.

The conversation drifted into easier topics, laughter and playful jabs exchanged as the hagwon came into view. Wonwoo still didn't know what exactly made him want to be around you, but he didn't mind figuring it out along the way.

Meanwhile, back at the apartment, Mingyu leaned against the window, watching the two of you disappear into the distance.

Yeah, something was definitely up.

And as your older brother, he was gonna keep an eye on it.

A few days after that walk, Wonwoo found himself running into you more often than he expected. At first, it was innocent enough—quick encounters while he was out running errands or grabbing coffee with Mingyu. But soon, those moments stretched longer, turning into something he actually started looking forward to.

It didn't help that teasing you had become his new favorite pastime.

You'd be minding your own business, walking down the hallway in Mingyu's apartment building, when suddenly, you'd sense a presence behind you. Turning around, you'd find Wonwoo leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a smirk playing at his lips.

"Going somewhere, princess?"

The nickname never failed to make you flush, though you'd gotten better at rolling your eyes in response. Still, it was the way he said it—so effortlessly teasing—that made your stomach flip, like you were missing the punchline to some inside joke.

At first, you chalked it up to friendly chatter. But the more it happened, the harder it became to tell if he was just being playful or if there was something else beneath it.

Then came the café incident.

You were sitting with your friends, chatting about classes, when one of them suddenly perked up, nodding toward the entrance. "Hey, isn't that your boyfriend?"

You blinked in confusion, following their gaze—only for your breath to catch slightly when you saw Wonwoo stepping inside, exuding that quiet, effortless confidence he always carried.

"What? No way," you sputtered, your voice catching as you waved off the idea.

Your friends exchanged knowing looks. "Come on, we've seen you two together all the time lately," one of them pointed out. "And let's be real, you'd make a cute couple."

Your face went hot. "He's not my boyfriend!"

"Then why do you look so guilty?" Another friend smirked.

Before you could form a coherent response, Wonwoo approached the table, sliding into the seat next to you as if he belonged there. "What's all this talk about me?" he asked, his deep voice laced with amusement.

"Nothing!" You nearly choked on the word, sitting up straighter.

Your friends weren't buying it. "We were just saying how cute you two look together," one of them supplied, grinning mischievously.

Wonwoo, the absolute menace, didn't even flinch. Instead, he leaned back lazily, his lips curving into that smirk that made your heart stutter. "Cute, huh?" he mused. Then, with a glance in your direction, he added, "She's already shy around me. You think she'd survive being my girlfriend?"

You gawked at him. "Wonwoo!"

He chuckled, clearly enjoying the way you flustered so easily. "Relax," he murmured, leaning in slightly, just enough to send your brain into overdrive. "I'm just helping you out. You should be thanking me for making you so popular."

You shot him a glare, but your friends were eating it up, laughing as they nudged each other. "Honestly, you two are like an old married couple already."

You groaned, burying your face in your hands, half-expecting the ground to swallow you whole. Meanwhile, Wonwoo looked way too pleased with himself, the playful glint in his eyes only growing stronger.

And from that day on, it only got worse.

Every time he ran into you, your friends' words echoed in your mind, making you hyperaware of every smirk, every lingering glance, every low chuckle. You weren't sure if it was all just a joke to him, but the real problem was—you were starting to hope it wasn't.

Because, teasing aside, there was something about the way he looked at you lately. Something softer, something unreadable. And that? That was the most confusing part of all.

Over the next few days, it became a pattern—these little run-ins, the teasing, the way Wonwoo always seemed to appear right when you thought you'd get a break from his smug remarks. If you were being honest, it was starting to feel less like coincidence and more like... something else.

Like right now.

You had just finished your class at the hagwon and were walking home when you heard footsteps behind you. At first, you didn't think much of it. But then—

"Hey, princess."

You nearly tripped over your own feet. Whipping around, you found Wonwoo standing there, hands in his pockets, looking entirely too smug.

"Seriously?" you huffed. "Do you have a tracker on me or something?"

He chuckled, falling into step beside you. "Nah. Just good timing."

"Suspicious timing," you muttered under your breath.

He grinned. "What, you don't like seeing me?"

You opened your mouth, ready to give a snarky reply, but the words stuck in your throat. Because, truthfully, you did like seeing him. You liked how he always managed to sneak into your day, turning normal moments into something else—something charged with a kind of tension you weren't sure how to handle yet.

But you weren't about to admit that.

"Did you just happen to be in the area, or are you stalking me now?" you teased instead, nudging him lightly with your elbow.

Wonwoo made a thoughtful sound, tilting his head. "Hmm. I guess I should start charging for my services if I'm going to be your personal bodyguard."

You rolled your eyes. "Bodyguard? Please. What are you protecting me from? My own two feet?"

He smirked. "You almost tripped earlier. Maybe you do need me."

Your mouth opened, then closed. He had a point, but you weren't going to let him have the satisfaction of winning this round. Instead, you crossed your arms and shot him a playful glare.

"You're insufferable, you know that?"

"And yet, here we are," he mused, his voice low, almost amused. "Walking home together. Again."

You faltered. There was something about the way he said it—like he was reminding you that these weren't just coincidences anymore. That maybe, just maybe, he was seeking you out just as much as you were looking forward to seeing him.

The thought made warmth creep up your neck.

The walk continued, the air between you shifting—still lighthearted, but tinged with something heavier, something unspoken. At some point, you felt the faintest brush of his hand against yours. It was barely anything, just a fleeting touch, but it sent a jolt up your spine.

You glanced at him, half-expecting him to be smirking at your reaction, but instead, Wonwoo was looking ahead, his expression unreadable.

The silence stretched between you for a beat too long.

"You're quieter than usual," you finally said, your voice softer now.

Wonwoo hummed, glancing at you. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

He hesitated, then shrugged. "You."

Your breath hitched. You blinked, caught completely off guard by the casual way he said it—like it wasn't something that would send your heart into a tailspin.

He must've noticed your reaction because his lips twitched into something close to a smirk. "Surprised?"

You scoffed, desperate to regain some control over the conversation. "You say that like I should just expect it."

"Maybe you should," he said, voice smooth, teasing, but with a weight behind it that made your stomach flip.

And just like that, the game between you shifted. It wasn't just harmless teasing anymore. It was charged, loaded with something more than just playful.

You were in trouble.

And worse? You weren't sure you minded.

Wonwoo should've seen it coming.

He was halfway through his iced americano when Mingyu—who had been rambling about his fantasy basketball team for the past fifteen minutes—suddenly leaned forward with a serious look. The shift in his tone was so abrupt that Wonwoo nearly choked on his drink.

"Don't date my sister."

Wonwoo blinked. "...Huh?"

Mingyu crossed his arms, leveling him with a look that was rare for him—stern, like he wasn't just joking around. "I'm serious. I know how you are, Wonwoo."

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance. "How am I?"

"You don't do relationships," Mingyu shot back. "You flirt, you have fun, and then—poof—you're gone."

"That's not true," Wonwoo muttered, looking away.

"Dude. Jiwoo? Jiekyo? Mijin?" Mingyu listed off names, counting on his fingers. "You get bored too easily. My sister's not just some girl you can play around with."

That one stung.

Wonwoo clicked his tongue, tapping his fingers against his coffee cup. "You make me sound like some heartless asshole."

Mingyu exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I'm not saying you're a bad guy. I know you, Wonwoo. You just... don't take these things seriously. And I don't want her getting hurt because she thinks you do."

Wonwoo didn't answer. He could argue—say that things were different this time, that maybe he didn't know why, but the usual rules didn't seem to apply whenever you were involved. But he also knew Mingyu had a point.

Did he even know what he was doing?

Mingyu must've taken his silence as agreement because he nodded, looking satisfied. "Good. I just wanted to clear that up."

And that should've been the end of it.

Except... you had other plans.

The problem was, you were very aware of Wonwoo's usual avoidance tactics. And yet, despite Mingyu's warning (which you totally overheard, thank you very much), you weren't about to back off. If anything, it made things more fun.

So, naturally, you decided to corner Wonwoo after one of his gym sessions.

You found him outside, sitting on a bench, scrolling through his phone like he wasn't sweating buckets from lifting weights for an hour.

"Hey," you greeted, plopping down beside him.

He glanced at you, then back at his phone. "Hey."

Silence.

You smirked. "You're avoiding me."

His thumb hovered over the screen. "No, I'm not."

"You so are." You leaned in, trying to peek at his phone. "What, are you texting my brother to report my suspicious activities?"

He sighed, locking his phone and shoving it into his pocket. "Your brother would kill me if he knew we were talking right now."

You tilted your head. "Funny, I don't see Mingyu around."

He shot you a flat look. "That's not the point."

"You're acting like he owns me or something," you teased, nudging his arm with your shoulder. "What, are you scared of him?"

Wonwoo exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "It's not about that—"

"Then what's it about?"

He paused.

You took the chance to scoot closer. "Let me guess," you hummed, tapping your chin dramatically. "You think you'll break my heart? That you'll flirt, we'll have fun, and then poof—you're gone?"

Wonwoo visibly stiffened.

Bingo.

You grinned. "What if I told you I like a little risk?"

He groaned. "Don't say stuff like that."

"Why? Is it making things harder for you?"

He looked at you then, really looked at you—like he was trying to figure out if you were messing with him or if you actually meant it. And that's when you knew you had him.

"Relax, Wonwoo," you said, leaning back with a smug smile. "I just wanna grab coffee. Not a wedding ring."

He exhaled, shaking his head, but you caught the small smirk tugging at his lips. "You're impossible."

"And you are running out of excuses."

He stared at you for another beat before groaning, rubbing his face like you were the biggest headache of his life. Then—finally—he let out a short laugh, shaking his head.

"Fine," he muttered. "One coffee."

Your grin widened. "I knew you liked me."

"Shut up."

And just like that, the game was back on.

You should've known.

One coffee turned into another. Then into late-night calls. Then into hanging out at Wonwoo's apartment, always under the pretense of studying or just chilling.

Which was a huge lie. Because, really, what kind of studying involved Wonwoo's knee pressed against yours, his fingers grazing yours every few minutes, and him murmuring things in that low voice that made your brain short-circuit?

The worst part? He knew what he was doing.

And the proof?

Right now.

You were hanging out at his place after a long day, claiming his couch like it was yours while he sat beside you. Some dumb multiplayer game was on the screen, and you were so sure you were winning.

Until Wonwoo conveniently lost at the very last second.

"You're so bad at this," you teased, laughing as you nudged his arm.

Wonwoo, who had been sitting back lazily just seconds ago, suddenly leaned forward. "You made me lose on purpose."

You gasped dramatically. "How dare you accuse me—"

Before you could finish, he moved.

Fast.

One second you were playfully bickering, and the next? You were flat on your back, pressed against the couch, with Wonwoo hovering above you—his hands trapping you on either side of your head.

Your brain short-circuited.

"W-Wait—"

Wonwoo's knee nudged between your thighs, pressing down just enough to make you hyperaware of every single point of contact between you. The air shifted, playful teasing melting into something heavier.

Something that made your skin burn.

The way he looked at you—half-lidded eyes roaming over your face, his smirk growing as he took in your reaction—made your stomach twist into knots.

The corner of his lips curled. "What's wrong?"

Your throat was so dry. "You're—you're too close."

He hummed, tilting his head slightly. "Am I?"

And then—because this man had no mercy—he dipped even lower, his nose brushing against yours as he whispered against your lips,

"You started this."

A second later, his lips crashed onto yours.

Soft but demanding, like he had been holding himself back for too long. His hands slipped down, gripping your waist, fingers digging into your sides as he pulled you impossibly close. The kiss was slow at first—just a gentle press of lips—but then Wonwoo tilted his head, deepening it, his mouth moving against yours with a languid, intoxicating rhythm.

You melted.

Your hands, which had been gripping onto his hoodie for dear life, moved on their own—one slipping into his hair, tugging slightly. The groan he let out against your lips sent a shockwave down your spine.

Wonwoo's hands moved lower, resting on your thighs before effortlessly pulling you up onto his lap.

The sudden shift made you gasp, your hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself. But before you could even think, his lips found yours again, this time more urgent, more needy.

And you?

You couldn't even pretend to fight it.

Because Wonwoo kissed like he meant it. Like he was making up for all the stolen glances, the teasing touches, the lingering tension that had built up between you for weeks.

And you let him.

Because, honestly?

You wanted it just as much.

From that night on, it was impossible to pretend you weren't completely wrapped around each other's fingers.

Sure, Mingyu didn't know yet, but Wonwoo made it really hard to act normal.

Like when he'd pick you up from hagwon (cram school) at night, leaning against his car like some effortlessly hot drama lead, hands in his pockets, waiting for you. And when you walked up, flustered and mumbling about how someone might see?

He'd just smirk and lean down, murmuring, "Let them."

Or when he'd help you study at the library but deliberately lean in too close—his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "You're not focusing."

As if he was helping??

And the worst part? He loved seeing you flustered.

Like the time he casually pulled you into an empty library aisle, tilted your chin up, and kissed you right then and there.

"You keep getting distracted," he murmured against your lips, eyes gleaming with amusement.

And you?? You just stood there, clutching your book like your life depended on it.

But hey. What Mingyu doesn't know won't kill him, right?

...Right?

---

Honestly, you and Wonwoo had been too good at sneaking around.

The stolen kisses in empty library aisles. The late-night study sessions that turned into him pulling you onto his lap just to mess with you. The way he'd casually lean against his car outside your cram school, hands shoved into his hoodie, waiting like some effortlessly cool drama lead.

Y'all really thought you were slick.

Until one night.

You were saying your goodbyes outside your house, the streetlights casting a golden glow over the both of you. Wonwoo had driven you home like always, but this time, instead of the usual quick peck and see you later, he leaned in, his hands resting on your waist, his breath warm against your lips.

"You're so cute when you're nervous," he murmured before pressing a lingering kiss to your lips, tilting his head just right so you felt it all the way down to your toes.

And that was the moment your soul left your body.

Because the second Wonwoo pulled away—both of you breathless, smiling like lovesick idiots—you heard it.

A slow. Dramatic. Clap.

You froze. Wonwoo froze.

And then—

"Well, well, well. Look what we have here."

Your blood ran cold.

You turned around so slowly you swore time slowed down.

And there, standing in front of the house, arms crossed, wearing the most betrayed expression you'd ever seen, was Kim Mingyu.

"Oh, shit," Wonwoo muttered under his breath.

"OH SHIT IS RIGHT, JEON WONWOO," Mingyu roared, stalking forward like an older brother about to ruin your entire existence.

You instinctively stepped in front of Wonwoo like that was gonna protect him from the absolute storm that was about to hit. "Mingyu, listen, before you freak out—"

"BEFORE I FREAK OUT???" Mingyu's voice cracked, eyes darting between you and Wonwoo. "YOU'RE KISSING MY BEST FRIEND ON OUR FRONT PORCH LIKE IT'S A K-DRAMA AND YOU WANT ME TO STAY CALM???"

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Looked at Wonwoo for help.

Wonwoo: 😬

You: 😭

Mingyu let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before turning to Wonwoo with the deadliest glare known to man.

"You. Follow me. NOW."

Wonwoo shot you a look—part this is it, I'm gonna die and part I regret nothing. And then he followed Mingyu inside like a man walking to his execution.

You just stood there, hands on your head, wondering if you should start preparing a eulogy.

Because one thing was certain.

Kim Mingyu was about to ruin your entire love life.

You had never paced so much in your entire life.

Standing outside your front door, you tried to listen in—tried being the keyword. But Mingyu's voice was booming from inside the house, and you could already tell from his tone that he was about to make Wonwoo regret all his life choices.

You pressed your ear against the door.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Oop. You winced. That was not a good start.

"Mingyu, calm down—" Wonwoo started, but Mingyu was having NONE of it.

"CALM DOWN? OH, SORRY, SHOULD I THROW YOU A PARTY INSTEAD? CONGRATS, YOU'RE DATING MY BABY SISTER??? BRO, I TRUSTED YOU!"

There was a pause. A deep sigh. Then:

"I told you to break up with her."

WHAT.

You slammed the door open so hard it bounced off the wall.

"EXCUSE ME??"

Both of them turned to you like deer caught in headlights.

"YOU WHAT???" you yelled, pointing at Mingyu like he'd just confessed to murder.

Mingyu blinked at you like he just realized what he said. "Uh—wait. No, that's not what I—"

Wonwoo was dying. You could see it. He was looking between the two of you, lips pressed together, trying so hard not to laugh.

You turned to Wonwoo, still pointing at Mingyu. "DID YOU KNOW THIS?"

Wonwoo immediately held his hands up. "Nope. No idea. But honestly, this is the best plot twist I've ever witnessed."

"Mingyu," you hissed, grinning like an absolute menace. "Wonwoo's a great guy. Make him break up with me and I'll never talk to you again."

Mingyu let out the loudest groan, dragging his hands down his face. "I DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT. I meant—I don't know! I just didn't want you dating Wonwoo of all people!"

"Wow. Okay. Ouch," Wonwoo muttered, actually offended.

Mingyu whirled on him. "I'M SORRY, BUT DO YOU KNOW YOUR OWN HISTORY? YOU'RE A HEARTBREAKER, BRO. I'M NOT LETTING YOU BREAK MY SISTER'S HEART."

Wonwoo's face immediately darkened. "Mingyu," he said, voice low.

And just like that, the room shifted.

Because that tone? That was not Wonwoo the sarcastic asshole. That was Wonwoo the serious guy who doesn't mess around when it comes to things that matter.

Mingyu must've felt it too, because his whole demeanor changed.

"I'm not playing around with her," Wonwoo said, steady and clear. "I'm not screwing this up." His gaze flickered to you—soft, almost apologetic, like he hated that this conversation was happening in front of you.

"I like her," he continued, voice quieter now. "A lot. More than I probably should." He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "And I get it. You're looking out for her. But Mingyu, you have to know—I wouldn't start something with her if I wasn't serious about it."

...

DEAD. SILENCE.

You held your breath, watching Mingyu's expression shift.

He looked at you. Then back at Wonwoo.

Then back at you.

And then—he sighed the biggest sigh of his life.

"Ugh. Fine." He dragged a hand through his hair, groaning. "Fine. If you two wanna make out and be disgusting, whatever. But," he said, suddenly deadly serious, "if you hurt her, Wonwoo, I swear on my life—"

"I know," Wonwoo cut in, smirking. "You'll kill me."

"No," Mingyu said. "I'll make you wish I did."

WELL.

You weren't sure whether to be relieved or terrified.

But at least you and Wonwoo weren't hiding anymore.

And the best part?

Mingyu would never find out just how much sneaking around you two had already done.

Mingyu had no idea what he had just unleashed.

Because the second he begrudgingly gave his approval, Wonwoo had decided on a new mission in life:

Make. You. Flustered.

And he was very good at it.

---

EXHIBIT A: THE COUCH INCIDENT

Mingyu was in the kitchen, completely unaware of what was happening in the living room.

You were sitting cross-legged on the couch, a controller in hand, fully focused on the game—or at least, you were trying to be.

Wonwoo, on the other hand?

Oh, he was definitely not focused on the game.

He was watching you. Studying you like a predator stalking its prey.

And the moment you made a mistake in the game, he pounced.

"HAH—GOTCHA," he laughed, tackling you onto the couch.

You yelped, the controller flying out of your hands as Wonwoo pinned you down, his arms caging you in.

"W-Wonwoo—!" you stammered, wide-eyed.

"Cheaters don't deserve to win," he teased, leaning closer. His weight was warm, his cologne intoxicating, and his smirk was nothing short of sinful.

And just when you were about to absolutely combust, he dipped his head—

And kissed you.

Deep. Slow. Lingering.

Your hands fisted his hoodie, a helpless whimper slipping from your lips as he tilted his head, kissing you deeper.

His lips moved against yours like he had all the time in the world. Like this was something he'd wanted to do for so, so long.

And then—

"WHAT THE ACTUAL FU—"

MINGYU.

Mingyu. Was. Here.

You froze.

Wonwoo froze.

Mingyu's scream could have shattered glass.

"WONWOO, GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF MY SISTER RIGHT NOW."

But Wonwoo?

Wonwoo smirked.

And he didn't move.

Instead, he pressed another slow, deliberate kiss to your lips—just to spite Mingyu.

"OH MY GOD, YOU—YOU—"

You didn't even know who moved first—Wonwoo scrambling off you or Mingyu lunging at him like a wild animal.

All you knew was you were absolutely dying of embarrassment.

EXHIBIT B: THE STUDY SESSION FROM HELL

You should've known studying with Wonwoo was a terrible idea.

Not because he wasn't helpful—he was. Very helpful.

But his idea of helping you study was apparently making you flustered as hell.

You sat across from each other in the library, a pile of textbooks between you. Wonwoo was supposed to be quizzing you, but instead—

Instead, his foot nudged yours under the table.

You ignored it.

Then his foot slid up your calf.

Your breath hitched.

And when you finally looked up at him, the bastard was smirking.

"W-what?" you stammered, gripping your pen so tight you thought it would snap.

Wonwoo propped his chin on his hand, voice low and teasing.

"Nothing," he murmured. "Just wondering how long you can focus before I distract you."

Oh. Oh.

You gulped.

And then—you felt a shadow loom over you.

MINGYU.

Again. AGAIN.

His arms were crossed. His expression? A mix of pure disgust and betrayal.

"...Am I interrupting something?" he asked flatly.

You and Wonwoo both jumped apart like you'd been electrocuted.

"N-no!" you squeaked.

Mingyu's eyes narrowed.

"...Are you two seriously making out in the LIBRARY???"

Wonwoo, without missing a beat: "Wouldn't be the first time."

Mingyu died on the spot.

Mingyu was 100% sure he was living in his own personal hell.

Because every time he turned around, Wonwoo was doing something to make his little sister blush like crazy.

A hand on her waist. A whisper in her ear. A kiss on the cheek.

AND IT WAS DRIVING MINGYU INSANE.

He started setting rules.

"NO KISSING IN FRONT OF ME."

But then, Wonwoo would smirk and kiss you on the forehead instead.

"NO TOUCHING."

So Wonwoo would lace your fingers together behind his back, out of Mingyu's sight.

"NO SECRET GLANCES—OH MY GOD, I SAW THAT, YOU THINK I CAN'T SEE YOU TWO STARING AT EACH OTHER??? STOP IT. STOP IT RIGHT NOW."

Wonwoo, grinning like a menace: "I don't know what you're talking about."

Mingyu was this close to throwing himself off a cliff.

The moment Wonwoo got you alone in his apartment, there was no hesitation. The second the door clicked shut, his hands were already on you—warm, firm, desperate in a way that sent shivers up your spine. His fingers trailed along your waist, pulling you flush against him before he backed you up against the kitchen counter, his dark eyes locked onto yours, filled with something dangerous—something hungry.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he murmured, voice low and rough, the heat of his breath fanning over your lips.

Before you could answer, his lips crashed onto yours, devouring, claiming, stealing every last ounce of air from your lungs. His hands roamed, fingers sliding down the curve of your back, gripping, exploring, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. Your knees nearly buckled from the intensity, the sheer heat of it all, but Wonwoo held you firm, like he'd never let you go.

His lips trailed down, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, your neck, sucking lightly until you whimpered—until he had you melting for him, hands gripping onto his shirt like you needed something to hold onto or else you'd fall apart.

"Wonwoo," you gasped when he suddenly hoisted you up onto the counter with ease, spreading your thighs so he could step between them, his hands sliding under your dress, fingers tracing the sensitive skin along the inside of your thighs.

You barely had time to react before he tilted your chin up with his fingers, his lips brushing yours as he whispered, "Tell me to stop."

But you didn't. You couldn't. Instead, you pulled him in, kissing him with all the desperation you felt in your body.

He groaned into your mouth, deep and guttural, and suddenly, the warmth of his hands was gone—but only so he could hook his fingers around your dress and unzip it, painfully slow.

The fabric slid off your shoulders, pooling around your waist as Wonwoo's eyes darkened. His fingers traced down your bare skin, mapping out every inch of you, as if memorizing the way you shivered under his touch.

Then, in one swift motion, he lifted you off the counter with ease, his lips never leaving yours as he carried you through the apartment—straight to his neatly arranged bedroom.

You barely had time to take in your surroundings before Wonwoo pinned you onto the bed, hovering over you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his eyes burning into yours.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," he muttered against your lips before kissing you senseless— deep, slow, and thorough, like he was savoring every second.

His lips trailed lower, down your neck, your collarbone, his hands exploring, teasing, making you squirm under his touch.

He was taking his time, driving you insane, and when his fingers finally dipped lower, teasing at the edge of your underwear, you let out a shaky breath.

"Wonwoo," you pleaded.

He smirked, dragging his lips back up to your ear. "Patience, princess."

But patience was the last thing on your mind when he finally, finally touched you.

The second his fingers slipped past the band of your underwear, featherlight but deliberate, you shivered beneath him. Wonwoo took his time, tracing along your soaked heat with the slightest pressure—just enough to make you tremble, but not enough to satisfy the aching need building in your core.

He was cruel like that.

His lips brushed against your ear, his voice low, deep, and intoxicating.

"Look at you..." he murmured, dragging a single finger down your slick folds before circling your entrance—just barely pushing in. "So wet already. Is this all for me?"

Your breath hitched, your fingers tightening in his shirt.

"Wonwoo, please—"

A sharp gasp left your lips when he suddenly pushed in one finger, slow and deliberate, letting you feel every inch before curling it just right, pressing against that sensitive spot inside you.

"Please what, baby?" His smirk was dangerous, his movements even more so as he added a second finger, stretching you, filling you, setting an excruciatingly slow rhythm that made you feel helplessly desperate.

Your hips bucked instinctively, seeking more, but Wonwoo only chuckled, his free hand pressing you down against the mattress.

"Needy little thing," he muttered before dipping down to kiss you again, swallowing every whimper, every broken moan as his fingers moved faster—deeper.

You were barely holding onto reality at this point. The heat, the pleasure, the way his voice sent shivers through your spine—it was too much and not enough all at once.

Then suddenly, he was gone.

You whined at the loss, blinking up at him in frustration, but Wonwoo only chuckled as he pulled his shirt over his head—revealing his lean, toned body, his sharp jaw, his intense gaze locked onto yours like you were the only thing he could see.

"Relax, baby," he whispered, crawling back over you, caging you in beneath him. "I'm not done with you yet."

His lips trailed lower, down your neck, your chest, your stomach— his tongue and lips teasing, tasting, claiming every inch of your skin until you were gasping beneath him.

By the time he reached your soaked heat, you were already a mess—whimpering, squirming, aching for more.

And when he lowered his head between your thighs, his dark eyes flickering up to meet yours just before his tongue flicked against your most sensitive spot—

You swore you saw stars.

The first stroke of his tongue sent a full-body shudder through you, your fingers immediately tangling in his hair as he dragged the flat of his tongue along your soaked heat.

Wonwoo hummed at the taste, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you still as he set a slow, torturous rhythm—kissing, licking, sucking—his tongue swirling around your sensitive bud before flicking against it in teasing little strokes that left you gasping for air.

Your thighs trembled, threatening to close around his head, but he only chuckled against you, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through your already overwhelmed body.

"Already shaking, baby?" he murmured, lips brushing against your core, voice dripping with amusement and hunger. "Thought you wanted more?"

You barely had time to answer before his tongue plunged inside you, and that was it—your head fell back against the pillow, your back arching off the bed, your grip in his hair tightening as he ate you like he was starving.

Deep, slow strokes. Messy, wet kisses. His nose brushing against your clit just right.

It was filthy. It was heaven.

Wonwoo knew exactly what he was doing, and he was doing it so well it had you a whimpering, moaning mess beneath him, your legs trembling as he took his sweet time ruining you.

The heat in your stomach coiled tighter and tighter, your thighs twitching with every sinful movement of his mouth, until—

"Wonwoo—I'm—"

He didn't stop. If anything, he devoured you harder, one hand reaching up to lace his fingers with yours while the other pinned you down as you cried out, your orgasm crashing over you so hard your vision went white.

Your whole body tensed, shook, melted all at once as he licked you through it, riding out your high until you were twitching from oversensitivity.

Only then did he finally pull away, lips and chin glistening, looking up at you with dark, satisfied eyes.

"You taste so fucking good," he muttered, crawling back up, his body hot and solid against yours as he captured your lips in a messy, heated kiss—letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

And just when you thought you couldn't handle any more, you felt it.

The hard press of his cock against your thigh. Heavy. Hot. Desperate.

Wonwoo groaned against your lips, his hips grinding against you in slow, torturous drags.

"I need you, baby," he whispered against your lips, his voice wrecked with hunger, want, need.

He reached down, gripping himself, lining up against your still-throbbing heat—

"Tell me you want this."

His voice was gravelly, deep, wrecked, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot against your lips.

You exhaled, still dizzy, still trembling, but you knew exactly what you wanted.

"Wonwoo..." You cupped his face, brushing your lips against his, meeting his dark, burning gaze.

"I want you. All of you."

That was all he needed.

With a low, guttural groan, he pushed in—

The stretch of him had you gasping—a slow, deliberate push that filled you inch by inch, his cock dragging along your walls so deep, so hot that your nails dug into his shoulders.

Wonwoo groaned against your throat, his breath ragged as he stilled inside you for a moment—his fingers gripping your thighs tightly, almost trembling.

"Fuck—you're so tight, baby," he muttered, voice wrecked, strained, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck as he bottomed out.

The feeling was overwhelming. The stretch. The heat. The way his hips were pressed flush against yours, his cock pulsing inside you.

"You okay?" he whispered, kissing your jaw, your cheek, your lips.

You barely had time to answer before he rolled his hips, dragging himself out before pushing back in with a slow, deep thrust that had you moaning into his mouth.

And then he did it again. And again.

Slow. Deep. Hard.

His hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you against him with every thrust, burying himself so deep you felt him everywhere.

"You feel so fucking good," he groaned, forehead pressed against yours as his pace quickened, the slow drag of his cock turning into harder, deeper strokes.

Your body arched beneath him, chasing the friction, your legs wrapping around his waist as you gasped, whimpered, moaned, nails raking down his back as he thrust into you harder.

The room was filled with the sound of skin against skin, of breathless gasps, of desperate moans.

The pleasure built fast and hot, your body tightening around him, your thighs trembling as his movements turned desperate, hungry.

"Wonwoo—" you moaned his name, voice wrecked, needy, broken.

His pace stuttered at that—his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself deeper, faster, harder, hips snapping against yours in deep, punishing thrusts.

"Say it again," he growled against your lips, his hand slipping between your bodies, fingers pressing against your sensitive clit, rubbing tight, slow circles.

"Wonwoo—oh my god—"

The heat coiled tighter, your body tensing, trembling, shattering—

And then you were falling apart.

Your orgasm crashed over you in waves, your body tightening around him as you cried out, gasping his name, trembling beneath him.

Wonwoo groaned, cursing under his breath, his thrusts turning erratic, deeper, rougher as he chased his own high—until with one final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you, his body shuddering as he came, moaning your name against your lips.

For a moment, the room was silent, heavy with heat, with breathless gasps, with the aftershocks of pleasure still running through both of you.

Then, slowly, he pulled out, pressing a lazy, lingering kiss to your lips, his hands still holding your body so close, so tight.

You were dazed, boneless, completely ruined.

And so was he.

Wonwoo chuckled, breathless, tucking your hair behind your ear as he smirked down at you.

"Think Mingyu's gonna kill me if he finds out?"

You groaned, shoving him playfully, but he only laughed, kissing you again, slower this time, softer.

"You're mine now, you know that, right?"

And with the way he was looking at you, you knew there was no going back.

The aftermath was warm, quiet, and dangerously comfortable. Wonwoo was still half on top of you, his body radiating heat, his breath slow and steady against your shoulder. His arm was firm around your waist, keeping you close, like he wasn't ready to let go.

"You good?" he murmured, his voice deep, low, still wrecked from what just happened.

You hummed, nuzzling closer, feeling the soft press of his lips against your forehead.

This was nice.

Too nice.

And then your phone vibrated.

Wonwoo groaned, burying his face in your neck. "Don't answer it."

But you had to. Because when you reached for it, Mingyu's name was staring back at you.

Shit.

You shot up so fast that Wonwoo barely had time to react before you were scrambling for your clothes, your heart pounding.

Wonwoo, still half-naked and looking so effortlessly wrecked, just lay there, watching you in pure amusement.

"Relax," he said, grinning like a menace. "He doesn't know you're here."

You shot him a glare, still clutching your phone like it was a ticking bomb.

"He will if I don't answer," you hissed, and before Wonwoo could make another smart remark, you swiped to pick up the call.

"Mingyu?"

"Where the hell are you?"

You froze. Shit.

Wonwoo was watching you closely now, eyes dark with amusement, but he didn't move—just propped himself up on one elbow, looking like sin itself.

You cleared your throat, desperately trying to sound normal. "I—I'm at the library."

Wonwoo bit his lip, shaking his head.

Liar.

"The library?" Mingyu sounded skeptical. "You never stay this late."

Think. Think.

"Uh, yeah, well—Wonwoo said he'd help me study," you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

The silence on the other end was deafening.

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow.

"Mingyu?" you tried again.

"You're with Wonwoo?"

Your stomach dropped.

Wonwoo, the absolute devil that he was, just grinned, running a hand through his messy hair like he wasn't literally in bed with you.

"You—" Mingyu let out a sharp exhale. "I swear to god, if that bastard tries anything—"

"Relax!" you cut in quickly, forcing out a laugh. "It's just studying."

Wonwoo snorted.

Mingyu sighed. "I don't trust him."

"Gee, thanks, Gyu," Wonwoo said loudly, just to be annoying.

You glared at him, mouthing 'shut up' before turning back to the call. "I'll be home soon, okay?"

Mingyu grumbled something under his breath but eventually let you go.

The moment you hung up, you turned to Wonwoo, scowling.

"You were not helpful."

Wonwoo only smirked, sitting up, the sheets sliding down his torso, revealing even more of his very distracting body.

"Studying, huh?" he teased.

You threw a pillow at him.

"Shut up."

Sneaking around was thrilling.

Maybe it was the risk of getting caught, or maybe it was the way Wonwoo would sneak touches when no one was looking—his fingers grazing your waist, his lips brushing your ear just to whisper the most unnecessary things.

But Mingyu was getting suspicious.

And Wonwoo? He was making it worse on purpose.

Like now.

You were sitting across from Mingyu at a café, trying to act normal, when Wonwoo slid into the seat beside you—so close that your knees bumped under the table.

"Gyu," he greeted casually, stealing a fry from Mingyu's plate.

Mingyu narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Wonwoo just shrugged, unfazed. "Saw you two and thought I'd join."

Liar.

You knew for a fact that he had been waiting outside the whole time, texting you the filthiest things under the table, just to watch you squirm.

Now, he was acting innocent.

And he was way too close.

So close that you could feel the heat of his thigh against yours, the brush of his fingers as he reached for another fry.

Mingyu was still watching him suspiciously.

And then Wonwoo did it.

His hand, sneaky as hell, slid under the table.

Onto your thigh.

You froze.

Your breath caught in your throat as his fingers pressed against your bare skin, teasing, stroking, inching higher.

You shot him a warning look, trying not to choke on your drink.

He only smirked, looking way too entertained.

Mingyu, completely unaware, was rambling about something—basketball? A movie? You weren't even listening. Because Wonwoo was dragging his fingers along the hem of your skirt, toying with it, barely slipping underneath.

You squeezed your legs shut, but it only trapped his hand there.

His gaze flickered to yours, dark, teasing.

'Relax,' his eyes seemed to say. 'Unless you want him to notice.'

You bit your lip so hard it almost hurt.

Mingyu frowned. "Why do you look weird?"

Shit.

You cleared your throat, forcing a smile. "I—I don't?"

Mingyu narrowed his eyes.

Wonwoo, the absolute menace, just chuckled and leaned back, finally pulling his hand away.

"You should eat more, princess," he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear.

Your entire face burned.

And Mingyu? Oblivious.

For now.

Your voice was barely a whisper, heart pounding as you felt Wonwoo's breath against your ear.

"That's what makes it fun," he murmured, voice low, teasing.

This was dangerous. Reckless, even. But you couldn't stop yourself.

It started as a simple study session. Wonwoo had picked you up after hagwon, claiming he'd "help" you with your assignments.

Total bullshit.

Because now?

You were pressed up against the library bookshelf, the dim glow of the emergency exit light barely illuminating the mischief in his eyes.

Your breath hitched as his lips brushed over your jaw, slow, calculated. "You're so easy to mess with, princess."

You swallowed, trying to act indifferent, but your body betrayed you.

Because his hands were already on your waist, sneaking under your oversized hoodie, fingertips grazing your skin, making you shiver.

"Wonwoo," you warned, voice wobbly. "Someone might see—"

He kissed you.

Cut you off completely, swallowing any argument you might've had. It was deep, consuming, with just enough desperation to make your knees buckle.

And he knew.

He gripped your thighs, lifting you effortlessly, pressing you harder against the shelves. You gasped, wrapping your legs around his waist instinctively.

His lips traveled down to your neck, kissing, sucking—leaving marks in places only he would see.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly, earning a low groan from him.

"You're gonna be the death of me," he murmured against your skin, his voice sending heat straight to your core.

And then, his hand slipped under your skirt.

You gasped, back arching as he dragged his fingers along your soaked panties, teasing.

"Already wet for me?" he whispered, grinning when you squirmed in his grip.

"Wonwoo," you hissed.

"Shh," he hushed, lips finding yours again, muffling your soft whimpers. "Unless you want someone to catch us."

Fuck.

This was so, so wrong.

But god, it felt too good to stop.

His fingers moved against you, slow, deliberate, applying just enough pressure to make you tremble.

And then—

"Hello? Is someone there?"

A voice.

Somewhere in the library.

You froze.

Wonwoo, however?

He didn't stop.

His fingers kept moving, rubbing slow, lazy circles against your clothed heat.

"Wonwoo," you pleaded, voice barely a breath.

He just smirked.

The footsteps got closer.

Your heart pounded as Wonwoo kissed you again, swallowing your gasps as he slipped his fingers past the fabric, stroking your bare heat.

And then—

The footsteps faded.

Whoever it was, they were gone.

And you were falling apart in Wonwoo's arms.

He didn't stop until your body was trembling, until your head fell against his shoulder, until you were gripping onto his sweater like it was the only thing grounding you.

And then, finally, he pulled back.

He grinned, watching you struggle to catch your breath. His fingers—still wet from you—slid up your thigh, leaving a teasing trail.

"You were so loud, princess," he whispered against your ear. "I almost thought you wanted to get caught."

FUCK.

---

There were no fancy words, no grand declarations.

But when Wonwoo loved, he showed it in every little thing he did.

It was the way he kept your water bottle filled when you were too busy studying. The way he brought you warm meals when you forgot to eat. The way he let you borrow his headphones, knowing you liked his playlists better than yours.

Even now, as he sat in his gaming chair, his fingers absentmindedly traced circles on your bare thigh, pulling you closer onto his lap.

"You're too busy for me," you pouted, resting your chin on his shoulder as he adjusted his headset.

Wonwoo smirked, clicking a button on his keyboard. "I just spent two hours helping you study, princess. What do you mean?"

You huffed, nuzzling into his neck. "I mean, you're always playing games or working. I miss you."

His fingers paused on the keyboard.

A moment later, he let out a sigh and removed his headset, turning to face you.

"You're clingy," he teased, but the way his hands slid up your arms, the way his thumb brushed your cheek, said otherwise.

"You like it," you shot back.

He chuckled, pulling you in for a soft kiss. It was lazy, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world for you.

Maybe he did.

Because after that, he turned off his PC.

You blinked. "You're done?"

"Yeah." He stood, effortlessly carrying you to the bed. "I'd rather spend time with you."

Your heart melted.

"But your game—"

"It's just a game," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. "You're more important."

Fuck.

That did things to you.

You clung to him tighter, burying your face in his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Wonwoo wasn't the type to say 'I love you' a hundred times a day.

But he showed it. In the way he adjusted your blanket at night. In the way he massaged your shoulders after a long study session. In the way he never let you walk on the side of the road.

And in moments like this, where he'd drop everything just to hold you.

"You don't need anything but me, right?" he whispered against your hair, voice warm, teasing.

You smiled, pulling him closer.

"Right."

You were curled up on the couch, drowning in an oversized hoodie that—surprise, surprise—smelled like Wonwoo. The weight of your laptop sat in your lap, screen glowing with the absolute horror that was your unfinished assignment.

Two thousand words. Due tomorrow. You had written ten.

A dramatic sigh left your lips as you flopped onto the cushions, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to life.

Wonwoo, who had been watching you from his desk, barely glanced up from his monitor. "You're sulking."

"You're ignoring me," you shot back, hugging a pillow.

"I'm working," he replied, but there was a teasing lilt in his voice. "And you should be too."

You groaned into the fabric. "I can't. I have no motivation."

Finally, he turned his chair around, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he studied you. His dark eyes flickered with something unreadable—fond amusement, exasperation, love, all tangled into one.

"You're acting like a baby," he murmured, but the way he got up and walked toward you said otherwise.

And then—before you could process it—he was lifting your legs and settling himself between them, pulling you into his lap with ease.

"W-Wonwoo?" you stammered, hands instinctively gripping his shoulders.

"You don't have to ask, princess," he said, voice soft, low, knowing. "I already know what you need."

Your breath hitched.

And then his lips were on your forehead—one slow, lingering kiss.

Then another on your cheek.

Then your temple.

Then your nose.

The kind of kisses that weren't just physical, but something deeper. Like he was pouring everything he felt into them without saying a single word.

Your heart felt like it would burst.

"W-Wonwoo," you whispered again, but this time, it came out softer, more delicate.

"Mm?" He hummed, resting his chin on top of your head.

You swallowed. "You're distracting me."

He let out a soft chuckle. "Good."

You wanted to be mad, but how could you be?

Especially when he wrapped his arms around you tighter, rocking you slightly, like he was trying to comfort you without even realizing it.

Like you were his whole world.

---

Wonwoo didn't like extravagant gestures.

But spoiling you? That was different.

He'd do anything to make your life easier.

Which is why, when you walked into your apartment after a long day, you stopped in your tracks at the sight of takeout containers neatly placed on the table.

Your favorite food. From your favorite restaurant.

And beside them—a brand new necklace, delicate and subtle, but undeniably expensive.

You blinked.

"Wonwoo?"

From the couch, he looked up from his book. "Yeah?"

You pointed at the table. "What is this?"

"Food," he deadpanned. "And a gift."

You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms. "Why?"

He shrugged. "You had a long day."

Your heart faltered.

You took a slow step forward, staring at him. "Wonwoo, I told you not to keep buying me things."

"And I told you to stop acting like you don't love it," he murmured, flipping a page.

You huffed, but your face was already burning. "That's not the point!"

"You're so spoiled, you know that?" he said, tilting his head. "If I don't do this, you sulk."

"I do not."

"You do," he smirked, and before you could argue, he was standing up, taking slow steps toward you.

Your breath caught.

"You like being taken care of," he murmured, stopping just inches away. "And I like taking care of you."

Fuck.

Your pulse skyrocketed.

"Wonwoo," you whispered, and his hands slid up your arms, featherlight, teasing.

"Mm?"

"You're not being fair."

He leaned in, lips brushing your jaw, sending shivers down your spine.

"Neither are you," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

And just like that, you melted.

Wonwoo wasn't a morning person.

But when he woke up to the empty space beside him, his eyes narrowed instantly.

You were supposed to be asleep in his arms, tangled in his sheets, where he could keep you safe and warm.

Instead—

He blinked blearily, pushing the covers off. The faint glow from your laptop illuminated your silhouette, hunched over at the desk.

"Baby?" His voice was gravelly, hoarse from sleep.

You turned, blinking at him. "Did I wake you?"

Wonwoo ran a hand through his hair, eyes flickering between you and the glowing screen.

He didn't say anything. Just stood up, walked over, and gently closed your laptop.

You gasped. "Wonwoo, I need to finish—"

"Later," he murmured, voice low, commanding. Not angry, not strict. Just firm.

You opened your mouth to protest, but then—he was lifting you effortlessly, carrying you back to bed.

"W-Wait—"

"Shh," he whispered, tucking you back under the sheets before crawling in beside you.

Then his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his bare chest, his lips grazing your shoulder.

"Come back to bed," he murmured.

You shivered. "But—"

"You can finish in the morning," he whispered, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to your neck. "Just stay with me right now."

And really, how could you say no to that?

"You're exhausted. Just sleep, princess."

The dull ache in your shoulders was killing you.

It had been a long-ass day, and all you wanted to do was collapse.

But your laptop blinked back at you, merciless and taunting, deadlines creeping closer.

Wonwoo watched you silently from across the room, arms crossed, brows furrowed. You could feel his stare, heavy and knowing.

"You need to sleep," he finally murmured.

You didn't even look at him. "I'll sleep after this."

A beat of silence.

Then—before you could react—arms wrapped around you from behind, lifting you with ease.

"W-Wonwoo?! Put me down—!"

"No." Deadpan. Unbothered.

And just like that, you were in bed.

He pressed you into the pillows, throwing the blanket over you like tucking in a child.

"W-Wait—"

"You're exhausted," he muttered, climbing in beside you. "Just sleep, princess."

You tried to fight it. You really did.

But then—his arms tightened around you, his lips ghosted over your forehead, and his warmth melted into your body.

And suddenly... your eyelids were too heavy to keep open.

Damn him.

"Give me your bag, princess."

College was draining you.

You had just finished a three-hour lecture, your brain barely functioning, your bag heavy as hell.

And then—there he was.

Waiting outside, tall and gorgeous in a black hoodie and sweats, hands in his pockets, eyes softening the second he saw you.

Wonwoo, your personal chauffeur.

You sighed in relief, grateful for his presence alone.

Until—he took one look at your slouched shoulders and frowned.

"Give me your bag."

You blinked. "Huh?"

He nodded at your shoulder. "Your bag. Give it."

You clutched it instinctively. "It's not that heavy—"

Wonwoo didn't even let you finish.

He gently pried it from your grip, slinging it over his own shoulder like it weighed nothing.

"Wonwoo—"

"You looked tired, princess," he murmured, taking your hand. "Let me take care of you."

Your heart skipped a beat.

...Yeah. You weren't arguing with that.

"Sit still, princess. Let me take care of you."

You sighed in bliss, eyes fluttering shut as Wonwoo's fingers worked through your damp hair, massaging your scalp.

God, he was good at this.

His touch was gentle, slow, firm—soothing every little knot of tension you didn't even know you had.

"You're going to fall asleep," he murmured, amused.

"Mm," you hummed, barely awake, tilting your head into his hands.

He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. "You're so easy to please."

You smiled, eyes still closed. "Only when it's you."

Wonwoo paused.

And then—you felt his lips on your neck, slow and deliberate, his voice dropping into that low, teasing drawl.

"I like the way that sounds, princess."

Shit.

Suddenly, you weren't sleepy anymore.

"Stop looking at me like that, princess, or I'll take you right here."

Wonwoo knew what he was doing.

The man had zero shame when it came to making you blush, and he thrived off of it.

Which is why—when you were in the middle of a crowded restaurant, surrounded by people—he had the audacity to run his hands up your thighs under the table.

Your breath hitched.

"W-Wonwoo—"

He smirked, taking a casual sip of his drink. "Something wrong, princess?"

You shot him a glare, but your face was burning.

"I hate you," you muttered under your breath.

"Liar," he whispered back, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles on your skin.

You gulped, shifting in your seat. "We're in public."

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear.

"Stop looking at me like that, princess," he murmured, voice deep, teasing. "Or I'll take you right here."

Your breath caught.

And the worst part? You knew he meant it.

"I missed you, princess."

The night was quiet, the air cool, the city lights glowing softly through the window.

Wonwoo had been away for a few days—a work trip, nothing major—but God, you had missed him.

And apparently—he had missed you too.

Because the second he got back, he grabbed you by the waist, pulled you into his lap, and buried his face in your neck.

"You good?" you laughed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

He didn't answer.

Just... held you.

Long. Deep. Like he was soaking in your warmth, grounding himself in your presence.

And then, after a few moments—he whispered against your skin, voice low, hoarse.

"I missed you, princess."

Your heart melted.

You pressed a kiss to his temple. "I missed you too."

His arms tightened around you.

"I know."

"Stay close to me, princess."

Crowds were overwhelming.

Wonwoo didn't care about them much—he was good at blending into the background, unbothered.

But you? You were a whole different story. One talk with a stranger, you'd be friends with them almost too immediately.

Which is why—his arm was always around your waist, keeping you pressed firmly against him.

"Wonwoo, I can walk by myself, you know," you teased, looking up at him.

He just hummed, pulling you closer. "I know."

You rolled your eyes, but secretly?

You loved it.

Because as long as he was there, holding you like this, you never had to worry.

Not about getting lost.

Not about anything.

The night was warm, suffocating with tension, electric with something neither of you could fight.

It started innocent enough.

A late-night drive. The city lights flashing past. His hand on your thigh, firm, possessive, always touching.

You had been teasing him all night. Unintentionally, of course.

Or maybe not.

Because when you leaned in, whispered something soft, something sweet—

He snapped.

Before you could react, he pulled into a secluded parking lot, turned off the engine, and turned to you with dark, burning eyes.

"Out," he ordered, voice low, rough.

Your breath hitched. "Wonwoo—"

"Now, princess."

You gulped. Obeyed.

The second you stepped outside, he was on you.

He pinned you against the car, one hand in your hair, the other gripping your waist, his lips crashing into yours—hot, desperate, consuming.

"You drive me insane," he growled against your mouth, pressing his body against yours, forcing you to feel just how much you affected him.

Your fingers curled into his hoodie, tugging him closer, chasing his warmth, his touch, his everything.

"I need you," you breathed, and that was all it took.

The world disappeared.

Nothing existed except him—the way his hands roamed your body, the way his lips marked your skin, the way he whispered, 'Mine. All mine.'

And when he finally—finally—gave you what you both needed, it wasn't just lust.

It was love.

Raw. Overwhelming. Unshakable.

And as he held you close, forehead pressed to yours, breath uneven but laced with affection—

You knew.

You would never belong to anyone else.

And neither would he.

Your back hit the cool metal of the car. Wonwoo's body pressed against yours, solid, burning, intoxicating.

"You've been teasing me all night," he murmured, trailing kisses down your jaw, his breath hot against your skin.

Your lips parted, a shaky breath escaping when his hands slipped under your dress, fingers skimming up your thighs.

"I wasn't teasing," you whispered, but your voice betrayed you.

Wonwoo chuckled darkly. "Liar."

His fingers dipped between your legs, pressing against the heat that had been building all night.

You squirmed, gripping his hoodie, your body arching into his touch.

"Wonwoo—"

He swallowed your plea with a kiss, deep and desperate, his tongue sliding against yours, stealing every thought from your head.

"Tell me how much you want me."

Your breath hitched as he pushed your panties aside, his fingers stroking slow, deliberate circles that made your knees buckle.

"I—" You gasped, gripping his shoulders. "I want you. Please."

That was all he needed.

With one swift movement, he spun you around, pressing your front against the car, his hands exploring, teasing, making you beg.

"You love being touched like this, don't you?" he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Needy little thing."

You could barely breathe, let alone answer.

And when he finally—filled you, stretching you with a slow, deep thrust—

You shattered.

Your nails scraped against the car's surface, your moans mixing with the night air, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

Wonwoo didn't stop.

Didn't slow down.

Didn't let you come down from the high before pulling you back against his chest, one hand gripping your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

"Open your mouth," he murmured.

You obeyed without thinking—and he kissed you, deep and messy, swallowing your moans as he drove you to the edge again.

"Mine."

His voice was a growl, his arms tightening around you, his thrusts turning erratic, desperate.

And when you finally fell apart with him, gasping, trembling, completely undone—

He didn't let you go.

He held you close, pressed kisses against your skin, whispered against your lips—

"I love you."

And for the first time, you realized—this wasn't just desire.

This was obsession.

This was forever.

The night was warm, suffocating with tension, electric with something neither of you could fight.

It started innocent enough.

A late-night drive. The city lights flashing past. His hand on your thigh, firm, possessive, always touching.

You had been teasing him all night. Unintentionally, of course.

Or maybe not.

Because when you leaned in, whispered something soft, something sweet—

He snapped.

Before you could react, he pulled into a secluded parking lot, turned off the engine, and turned to you with dark, burning eyes.

"Out," he ordered, voice low, rough.

Your breath hitched. "Wonwoo—"

"Now, princess."

You gulped. Obeyed.

The second you stepped outside, he was on you.

He pinned you against the car, one hand in your hair, the other gripping your waist, his lips crashing into yours—hot, desperate, consuming.

"You drive me insane," he growled against your mouth, pressing his body against yours, forcing you to feel just how much you affected him.

Your fingers curled into his hoodie, tugging him closer, chasing his warmth, his touch, his everything.

"I need you," you breathed, and that was all it took.

The world disappeared.

Nothing existed except him—the way his hands roamed your body, the way his lips marked your skin, the way he whispered, 'Mine. All mine.'

And when he finally—finally—gave you what you both needed, it wasn't just lust.

It was love.

Raw. Overwhelming. Unshakable.

And as he held you close, forehead pressed to yours, breath uneven but laced with affection—

You knew.

You would never belong to anyone else.

And neither would he.

Your back hit the cool metal of the car. Wonwoo's body pressed against yours, solid, burning, intoxicating.

"You've been teasing me all night," he murmured, trailing kisses down your jaw, his breath hot against your skin.

Your lips parted, a shaky breath escaping when his hands slipped under your dress, fingers skimming up your thighs.

"I wasn't teasing," you whispered, but your voice betrayed you.

Wonwoo chuckled darkly. "Liar."

His fingers dipped between your legs, pressing against the heat that had been building all night.

You squirmed, gripping his hoodie, your body arching into his touch.

"Wonwoo—"

He swallowed your plea with a kiss, deep and desperate, his tongue sliding against yours, stealing every thought from your head.

"Tell me how much you want me."

Your breath hitched as he pushed your panties aside, his fingers stroking slow, deliberate circles that made your knees buckle.

"I—" You gasped, gripping his shoulders. "I want you. Please."

That was all he needed.

With one swift movement, he spun you around, pressing your front against the car, his hands exploring, teasing, making you beg.

"You love being touched like this, don't you?" he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Needy little thing."

You could barely breathe, let alone answer.

And when he finally—filled you, stretching you with a slow, deep thrust—

You shattered.

Your nails scraped against the car's surface, your moans mixing with the night air, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

Wonwoo didn't stop.

Didn't slow down.

Didn't let you come down from the high before pulling you back against his chest, one hand gripping your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

"Open your mouth," he murmured.

You obeyed without thinking—and he kissed you, deep and messy, swallowing your moans as he drove you to the edge again.

"Mine."

His voice was a growl, his arms tightening around you, his thrusts turning erratic, desperate.

And when you finally fell apart with him, gasping, trembling, completely undone—

He didn't let you go.

He held you close, pressed kisses against your skin, whispered against your lips—

"I love you."

And for the first time, you realized—this wasn't just desire.

This was obsession.

This was forever.

a/n: aeya here ! BELATED HAPPY VALENTINE'S EVERYONE ! i hoped y'all like this because if you did, i already have the part two ready. it's march, and i hope this fanfiction will make up for the long stop i've been. i'm back to being a stranger ig, but hey, count this as a celebration for my 500+ followers. i love yall sm please never stop expressing yourselves from supporting me. also, I PROMISE i will eventually get to y'alls reqs because i love yall too much mwuahhh

[sunshine-and-her-ikevil-stuff]

Look who I got, Mimi!

Makes enough sense from the description

ALRIGHT

i'll probably edit it at some point BUT

I'm putting an 18+ warning mdi although i don't say anything that graphic

[houseofaegon]

SKINNY DIPPING pt. 2 ✩ Wally Clark

Pairings: Wally Clark x Fem!reader

Warnings: +18 SMUT MINORS DNI. very slow burn. semi-public sex, unprotected p in v, teasing, heavy sexual tension, explicit dirty talk, praising, degradation, skinny dipping in a public pool, possesiveness/jealousy, light choking, rough gripping & mandhandling, overstimulation, wally being a cocky little shit and very possessive, kinda dom!wally, risk of getting caught, begging, breeding kink. wally whimpering???? (god have mercy)

Summary: For what feels like an eternity, Y/n and Wally have been nothing more than just friends. but that changes one reckless night when they decide to cross skinny dipping off their "100 things to do before crossing over" bucket list. Teasing and meaningless flirting turn heated, and the tension that has been simmering between them finally snaps. Under the moonlit water, boundaries blur, and their friendship is completely wrecked, in the best possible way.

Author's note: this is part 2!! Part 1 is linked below <3 And part 3 soon! I had to take a moment to breath and relax while writing this cause hello????? god jesus have mercy I'm literally gnawing at the bars of my enclosure. Also, thank you so much for the love on part 1!! it made me soooo happy to see you guys liked it <3333 it means the world to me!

Word count: 4043

Song choices: lose control - teddy swims, tear you apart - she wants revenge, closer - nine inch nails, flawless - the neighbourhood, do i wanna know? - arctic monkeys, TiO - zayn, again - noah cyrus.

masterlist. part 1. part 2. part 3

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"So...Skinny dipping?" his lips brushed against your ear, his voice now a low whisper.

"Skinny dipping," you repeated, lips curving into a playful grin. "Just don't get all excited to see me naked, Clark," you teased, pushing him lightly. "And hands to yourself," you added.

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes darkening a little. He couldn't help but smirk as well. He was excited at the thought of seeing you like that.

"I make no promises," he replied with a teasing grin, his raspy voice sending shivers down your spine.

"I mean it, Clark," you huffed, rolling your eyes, though the warmth you felt bubbling up inside you betrayed the annoyance you were trying to fake.

He leaned in again, his face mere inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin. "Can you blame me, though?" his voice dipped lower, rougher, almost a whisper. "You look so damn pretty, I can't help but flirt a little."

Your pulse quickened, but you refused to let him notice it. You pushed him back again, keeping the smirk on your lips. "Yeah, yeah," you drawled, tilting your head. "Am I the first girl you've ever said this to? Or the fourth? Or ninetieth?"

He lets out a short laugh, shaking his head. The truth was, Wally had a certain reputation, and everyone knew it. His charming smiles, teasing grins, and how he made girls feel like they were the center of his world… He never meant any of it. None of the girls he flirted with ever came close to you, to how you made him feel.

He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes. His gaze held yours, unwavering.

"None of those girls were you," he said quietly. "And none of them meant anything to me."

With a dramatic sigh, you place your hand over your forehead, pretending to swoon. "Oh, Wally! How you make my heart race!"

His laugh was loud, unrestrained, the kind of laugh that made your stomach flip every single time you heard it. He rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he nudged you in the stomach. "Oh, shut up," he said, grinning. "You're such a dork, you know that?"

"And you love it," you shot back, tilting your chin up in defiance.

Wally didn't answer immediately. Instead, his smirk faded slightly, and it made your chest feel too tight. He took a step closer again.

"Yeah," he admitted, voice just above a whisper. "I do."

The teasing had completely vanished now. Your throat suddenly felt dry, your pulse hammering in your ears. Something in his eyes told you that he wasn't playing anymore.

Your mouth opened, but before you could say anything, he lifted a hand, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered just a second too long, his touch light, but it managed to burn right through you.

He knew exactly what he was doing. The way he spoke, the way his gaze bore into you, the slight grin on his lips—it was all too deliberate, too calculated, and it made your pulse quicken. His eyes didn't lie, it was pure desire that clouded them and his judgment too. Wally had always been a flirt with everyone, and you were no exception. There had always been playful and flirty banter between you, but it was nothing more than a game. Nothing more than playful teasing. This? This felt different, it felt real. Lines were getting blurry, and your body was reacting in a way you never thought possible.

"You're trouble, you know that?" he murmured, his thumb grazing your jaw.

Your breath hitched. "Takes one to know one," you whispered back.

His eyes darkened, and for a second, you thought he was going to close the distance between you completely. Your heart slammed against your ribs, anticipation running through every nerve in your body.

With a smooth, effortless motion, Wally pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside like it was nothing. He knew you were watching him, and you did. You watched him, you couldn't tear your eyes away, hypnotized by his every movement, by the way the moonlight caressed his skin, his body gleaming under the soft light. You had seen him shirtless plenty of times before–he loved to work out and flaunt what he'd earned. But tonight? Tonight felt so much different. 

Your heart skipped a beat as you let your gaze travel down his chest, the way his abs tightened as he took off his shorts, kicking them aside, leaving only his boxers on. "You coming?" his voice was casual. But the way his eyes roamed over you, the way his smirk depended as he noticed the way you couldn’t keep your eyes off him, it was anything but innocent. "Go ahead," he added, nodding toward the water. "Get in first. I'll be right behind you."

You folded your arms over your chest, tilting your head as you arched a brow. "Oh, I see what you're doing," you mused, propping yourself on your hip. "You want me to strip first so you can get a show, huh?"

Wally's grin became bigger, shameless, and cocky. "And if I do?" he murmured.

"Then that makes you predictable," you shot back, tilting your head trying to feign disinterest.

His smirk didn't waver. If anything, it grew bolder. "Or just a man with very good taste," he countered smoothly, stepping closer. "But, hey, if you're too shy—"

Before he could finish, you grabbed the hem of your white shirt and pulled it over your head, letting it drop carelessly onto the ground. His smirk vanished. It was only for a second, but you saw it, the way his throat bobbed, the way his gaze dropped, drinking every inch of you. Satisfaction curled in your stomach.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips. That cocky smirk? Gone. Replaced by something you couldn't quite place, something darker, deeper. Something raw.

You stepped toward the pool, your back to him, deliberately ignoring his presence, pretending you didn't feel the heat of his gaze burning into you. "You were saying?" you teased, sliding your skirt down inch by inch, slowly, letting it slip past your thighs and pool at your feet before stepping out of it. "What was that about me being too shy?"

A smirk tugged at your lips as you tilted your head just enough to catch a glimpse of him over your shoulder. Victory. He wasn't smirking anymore—his mouth slightly parted, eyes darker, stance tense like he was barely holding himself together. You had him right where you wanted him.

But you weren't done. If he wanted a show, he was gonna get one.

Keeping your gaze locked on his, you let your hands drift behind your back, fingers working the clasp of your lace bra with infuriating slowness. You could see the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his chest rising and falling faster.

The straps slid down your shoulders, the cool night air hitting your skin, making your nipples harden instantly. And still, you watched him, letting his gaze devour you. Letting the bra drop, you let yourself bask in the way his pupils dilated, the way his hands clenched, every single vein and muscle in his arms tensing like he was fighting every instinct to move towards you and touch you.

And he was. God, he was fighting it, hard. Every demon inside him was telling him to grab you, to pull you close to him, to feel your skin against his, to claim you.

With a wicked grin, you toyed with the waistband of your lace black underwear, sliding it down, teasing him slowly. "Cat got your tongue, Clark?" you chuckled. Before he could answer, you turned your head and slipped into the pool.

When you submerged in the water, disappearing from his view, he let out a sharp exhale, the sound more like a whimper. As you resurfaced, he could've sworn he stopped breathing. You were everything he had ever wanted, and to see you there, bare, wet, and exposed? It was almost too much for him to handle.

His hands clenched into fists, his entire body trembling with the effort to restrain himself. His gaze didn't waver—it never left your body, exploring every inch of you.

You looked mesmerizing, the way the moonlight made your wet skin glow underneath it. He was desperate to touch you, to run his hands over your perfectly soft skin.

You ran your hands over your wet, slicked-back hair, your gaze on him. Wally stood there, frozen, eyes dark and fixed on you.

It was intoxicating, the power you had over him.

"What happened to all that smooth talk, Clark?" you teased, tilting your head, a playful smirk on your lips. "You suddenly forgot how to speak?"

That did it.

Wally's jaw locked, his hands clenched at his sides like he was physically restraining himself. For a second, you thought he might actually fight it—might crack a joke, roll his eyes, brush it off like he always did, return to his usual cocky self.

But then, without hesitation, he shoved his boxers down and kicked them aside. His eyes never leaving yours.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He stood before you, the hard lines of his body tense with restraint, every muscle in his stomach flexing as he fought for control. And then there was the unmistakable evidence of his arousal, thick and hard, a blatant display of everything he wanted—everything he wanted from you.

A shiver went down your spine, heat pooling in your stomach as your eyes slowly flickered up to his.

He didn't say a word. He just stepped forward, smoothly, deliberately, like a predator hunting its prey, before dipping into the pool. The water rippled as he disappeared beneath the surface. And then, he surged back up, breaking through the water right in front of you, so close that droplets splashed on your face, so close that his lips nearly brushed yours as he exhaled a deep, slow breath.

You inhaled sharply, instinctively swimming back, but his hands were already on your waist, locking you in place. Holding you right there, right where he wanted.

“What happened to all that smooth talk, sweetheart?" he repeated your exact words, the term of endearment making your stomach flip. His voice low, almost teasing. "You suddenly forgot how to speak?"

Your pulse hammered against your ribs. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to smirk even as every nerve in your body buzzed with anticipation. This was dangerous, you knew it, and he did too.

But neither of you seemed to care.

"You think you're real cute, don't you?" his voice was low and rough, every word seemed to vibrate through your chest as his lips hovered just above yours, his breath warm against your skin. His voice made your knees weak.

You grinned, hands sliding up his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. "I don't think," you whispered. "I know."

A low growl rumbled in his throat. And suddenly, you weren't smirking anymore. There wasn't a single hint of playfulness in his eyes. They were filled with pure and raw heat. Dangerous, Hungry. His grip tightened, pulling you flush against him. Beneath the water, skin met skin, heat against heat. It was undeniable now, impossible to ignore, impossible to run away from. Everything you tried to ignore, every line you'd both tried so hard not to cross.

Everything was collapsing in on itself.

This was happening.

This was real.

"You have no idea what you're doing to me." His voice was thick with frustration, like he was holding back every ounce of self-control. Every inch of him trembled beneath your hands, his chest rising and falling too fast, his fingers digging into your waist. The struggle was written all over his face. He wanted you. You could see it. Feel it. He was trying so hard to hold back.

And God, he wanted to. You could feel it in the way his body tensed against yours, in the way his jaw clenched, in the way his lips hovered right there, barely an inch away, like he was dying to close the distance. Dying to taste you.

You inhaled sharply, your heart slamming against your ribs. What the hell were you doing?

Stripping in front of him? Letting him see you like this, bare and exposed? Teasing him? Knowing exactly what it would do to him?

It wasn't like you at all.

It wasn't like either of you.

This wasn't the playful banter you'd always shared. It never got further than simple jokes and meaningless teasing. This? This was territory neither of you had ever ventured into. There was a thin, fragile line. You wanted to cross it. You needed to. But the fear... the fear of losing everything you had—the fear of losing him—kept you hanging on, just barely.

Wally swallowed hard, his fingers tracing slow, agonizing patterns against your skin. "You're dangerous," he whispered again, lower this time, rougher, as if the words were ripped straight from his chest. His hands tightened against your hips beneath the water, his eyes locked onto yours, searching for hesitation—begging for it, for a reason to stop.

But there was none.

The words slipped out of your mouth before you could even think. "Am I?"

His breath caught a subtle tremor in his jaw. "Don't tease me," he growled. "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

But you did.

And so did he.

His forehead dipped to yours, his breathing uneven. Your hands slid up, curling around the back of his neck, fingers threading through his wet hair. His eyes squeezed shut like he was trying—really trying—to fight it.

But there was nothing left to fight.

You’d both lost this battle a long time ago.

"You know this changes everything," he whispered, his voice raw, breaking over the words. His thumb brushed your skin, so painfully slow, like he was memorizing you, like he was savoring this moment.

Your chest tightened. You knew he was right. You knew this was it—the point of no return.

But it was too late for second thoughts.

Your lips parted, breath shaking. His eyes darkened at the sight of your open mouth, the sounds of your shaky breath making his pulse quicken. He was undone. Completely undone. All his hesitation, his willpower, his good intentions. Gone. He was drowning in you.

"Maybe it should," you whispered.

A sharp inhale. His hands gripped you tighter, and his forehead dropped fully against yours. "You have no idea what you're saying."

You let out a soft, breathless laugh. "Oh, I think I do."

His head lifted just enough for your eyes to lock, his pupils blown wide, lips slightly parted. His mouth was right there. Just a little more...

"You don't fucking get it," he rasped, his hands sliding up, thumbs brushing the underside of your ribs. "If we do this—if I kiss you—I won’t be able to stop. I won’t be able to just pretend it didn’t happen. You know that, don’t you?”

Your pulse slammed in your throat, and you nodded, barely breathing.

His fingers traced slow, lazy circles against your skin, like he was trying to soothe himself, trying to keep his composure. But you could feel it—the tension radiating off him, the heat rolling off his body even beneath the water.

"What if I don't want you to stop?" you whispered.

His eyes darkened, the grip on your waist tightening, pressing into your skin, making you groan. You were sure he was going to leave bruises, but you didn’t care. 

His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking as he sucked in a sharp breath through his nose. "You think this is a fucking game?"

“A little," you replied, a playful smirk dancing on your lips.

Wally let out a strained, bitter chuckle, but there was no humor in his eyes. No playfulness was left in the smile that painted his face. “You wanna keep playing?” he murmured, his voice rough, teasing, but there was an edge to it now, something deeper, dangerous. “Because I can play, sweetheart. But you better be ready for what happens when I stop holding back. When I stop pretending, we can go back to how things were. When I stop fucking pretending we're just friends.”

With a growl, he pushed you through the water until your back hit the edge of the pool. The impact and the feeling of the cold tiles sent a sharp shiver down your spine, making you gasp. The way he mandhandled you with such ease, his grip so possessive, the way his body caged you in completely, it made your head spin. 

His lips brushed yours—just barely. But it was enough to make your fingers clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, like he was the only thing keeping you standing.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered against your lips, pleading. “Tell me you don’t want this.”

You should say it. You should push him away, laugh it off, pretend like this was just another game, another moment of playful teasing between best friends who had spent years toeing the line.

But you didn’t.

Because you couldn’t.

Instead, your fingers crept up his neck, nails tracing the hard line of his jaw, tightening in his wet hair, pulling him closer, your body pressing against his beneath the water. You felt the way his breath stuttered, the way his fingers dug into your ribs, his thumb caressing your breasts, like he was barely hanging on.

Your lips brushed against his as you whispered, “I dare you.”

A sharp inhale. His hands tightened. "Don't," he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. "I swear, if you keep looking at me like that—"

"Like what?" you interrupted, faking innocence as your fingers trailed down his chest, nails scraping over his hard muscles.

His breath left him in a shaky exhale. "Like you want this."

Your lips curled. "Who says I don't?"

A low groan rumbled from his chest, his restraint hanging by a thread. His hands slid down slowly, gripping, teasing, like he was testing himself—testing you. “You don’t get it.”

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I do," you whispered, your mouth just barely on his, so close he could feel your words on his skin. "You're the one who doesn't."

His jaw ticked. "Don't push me," he warned, his voice a painful growl. 

You tilted your head, dragging your nose against his. "Why? Afraid you'll give in?"

"Afraid I won't be able to stop."

A wicked smile danced on your lips as you leaned in, your mouth grazing the corner of his. Not a kiss—just a taste. "You know what I think?” you murmured, your teeth just barely scraping against his lips, leaving the most devastating kiss there. “I think you’ve thought about this. A lot.”

“Tell me I’m wrong,” you taunted him, your voice nothing but a breath, a challenge, a plea. "Just tell me I'm wrong, and we'll stop, we'll forget any of this happened, we'll just—"

His patience snapped.

His hands slid down your waist, gripping your thighs before he hoisted you up, forcing your legs to wrap around him. A choked gasp escaped your lips as you felt all of him, thick and hard, pressing right against your soaked core. A groan tore from his throat, guttural and desperate, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs, bruising you. 

“Fuck,” he whimpered. “You keep grinding on me like that and I fucking swear–” His words cut off into a sharp inhale as you grinded against him again. 

You rolled your hips against him, dragging your slick heat over the hard ridge of his cock, and his entire body tensed.  

A sharp, wrecked groan tore from his throat, his grip turning bruising as he slammed your body harder against the cool tile. His mouth was on you in an instant—biting, licking, claiming—his teeth scraping your jaw, his tongue lapping at the spot he just marked, soothing it just to do it all over again. 

“Tell me to stop,” he rasped. 

You swallowed hard. The words were right there, on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say them.

Stop.

No, you wouldn’t. You didn’t want him to stop. You wanted him to keep going, to touch you right where you needed him the most, to make you his, to claim you, to possess you. You wanted to feel his lips on yours, on your entire body. You needed this, the release–you needed him. 

“Say. It.” His groan was raw, wrecked. His hands ghosted up your thighs, slow, teasing, so agonizingly close to where you needed them. “Tell me to fucking stop.”

You stayed silent. 

His lips curled into a dark smirk. “That’s what I fucking thought.”

His hands flexed, gripping your thighs tighter, dragging your hips flush against him, grinding against your core so hard and deep it made your breath catch.

“Fuck, you feel that?" he groaned, his voice rough dripping with need. "Feel how hard you make me? You did that, sweetheart. You."

His lips brushed your jaw, teasing, before his teeth sank into your skin—not enough to hurt, but enough to make you whimper. His tongue soothed the spot, only to bite again, harder this time.

"You don't think I've noticed? The way your eyes are on me when you think I'm not watching? The way your whole body reacts to me?"

His fingers dug into your hips, hard, making you gasp, dragging your body against him once more, letting you feel every single inch of how much he wanted you.

Fuck.

"You've been playing a dangerous game, baby," he growled. "Playing dumb, acting like all those little teases, all those flirty smiles, all those times you touched me without meaning to—like they didn't mean anything."

A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest.

"But we both know that's not true, don't we?" His grip became stronger by the minute, his fingers slithering lower, teasing the edge of your stomach, dancing along your skin with agonizing precision. He knew what he was fucking doing, he wanted to drive you insane, the same way you drove him to the brink of insanty.

"You know it's not true. Deep down, you always knew exactly what you've been doing to me."

And he was right.

Every glance, every touch, every smile, every almost—you’d been testing him, taunting him. Watching, waiting, wondering how far you could push before he snapped.

And now? He was breaking apart.

His fingers inched lower, making your entire body arch against him, desperate, aching, starving for more.

Please, please, please.

A gasp tore from your throat as his fingers finally found your aching clit, pressing down in slow, agonizing cirles.

Oh, fuck.

Your head fell back against the cool tile, your breath coming out in ragged pants. This was different. He was different. This wasn't the Wally you were used to—your best friend, the sweet, flirty, cocky, Wally who loved teasing you just as much as you teased him.

This was someone else, a completely different version of him you'd never seen before. Dangerous.

"I think you know how much I fucking want you," he groaned, his forehead pressed against yours, his eyes dark, desperate, completely feral with need. "And you've been pretending you don't feel it, too."

You swallowed hard, but no words would come out. What could you say? That he was wrong? That this was just another game?

It wasn't. Not anymore.

You'd crossed every line, and there was no going back.

Your entire body trembled as his fingers moved harder, faster, making your entire world narrow to the feeling of his fingers against your aching core.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, your breath coming in gasps, but you didn’t answer.

You couldn’t. Not when you were falling apart in his hands.

Not when you felt so good pressed against him.

So fucking good.

"And now, baby?" His tongue brushed over your lips, slowly. "Now you're gonna find out exactly what happens when you push me too fucking far."

[meiguicha]

In The Mirror of Your Eyes (My Love, My Life)

Mydei x Reader - Reincarnation AU

You know you don't possess him, so you can only let him go. Yet still, he is your love and your life.

Original

cw: 3.1 spoilers, major character illness, cussing, Adon is the most carnally desired unreliable narrator, hyv hurt me so now no one in this au deserves to be happy

//i hate you hyv i hate you. my husband who deserves to NOT go to war has left for the war. adon's only emotions are mildly angry, angry and depressed angry i fear, don't listen to him. trust i will give my husband what he deserves (romcom where the only conflict is being idiots)

Adon hates your husband. 

Your assistant and vice-chief accountant hates his crown prince more than anything on this damned planet. He hates him more than he hates Eryx who does nothing but make his job harder, more than his nosy neighbour who keeps tossing their scraps into his bin, and more than the gaggle of hags Okhema has the gall to call the Council of Elders. 

Ever since Mydei tailed after your every step that very day, if it's unrelated to work,  all he’s ever heard from you has something to do with him. And every time he comes in to talk to you, all he gets is a sidelong glance and a vibe that he really isn’t welcome right now. 

Don’t even get him started on the absolute bullshit he heard during the aftermath when he barged into your office demanding to see you, he’s pretty sure he’s heard noises the human mouth should not be making that day. 

But right now, he hates your husband for not being here when you clearly needed him most. 

On the day that grey haired weirdo and the black haired man started running around the palace, you who had finally moved past what for the longest time seemed to be a perpetual fatigue, suddenly lost your grip on your basket. Adon could only watch, perhaps more dumbfounded and concerned than any other possible emotion, as scrolls tumbled out, your knees that which always remained such a strong pillar in the face of challenge gave out on you. Never mind that his own hands were busy with a basket of his own, sheer panic filled his veins when he saw your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

If he were but a second later, they tell him, your skull would have cracked open. 

Slowly, carefully, more and more of your duties have now been handed off to him. Golgos and Beroe have started to take on his previous responsibilities, all the while you remain in your office, watching over his work as you drift amidst consciousness. 

Lady Aglaea was informed of your condition and though you’ve been sent to healer after healer, priest after priest, it appears that your body was simply giving up. Recovery was but a chance, one so slim only a needle could pass through.

The news does not come lightly, but stubborn as you are, every morning he still finds you in your office. Stubbornly, you remain at your chair and stubbornly, a scroll will be open on your desk. Every evening, when he is able, your stupid husband comes to retrieve you and you, stubbornly, will act as if you were all fine and well. 

At least, that’s what you did until you could no longer hide the toil that plague took on your form. Yet you would not tell the one person you trusted most. 

A minor illness, you said. Something that kept you weak but not enough that it would doom you. 

It was to keep him focused on what needed to be done, nothing to fret over. 

Adon makes the move to your office not long after. It's too small for the both of you and he hates how closed in it feels, he wonders how you managed to work so comfortably when you kept company with Mydei. 

He remembers pointing a calloused finger at the protrusion on your sash, a leather bound hilt with an engraving on the pommel sticking out from rosy fabric. It was a dagger, clearly so. But it was only then that he noticed its existence. “When did you start carrying that?”

“Hm?” With a hum, you lolled  your head towards his direction, eyes still closed and voice soft, “Carry what?”

Brushing his hand against the handle, your hand moved at an unnatural speed, the cold of your palm permeating his skin and bone so much so that the very contact ripped a flinch from him as he barely managed a response. “That.”

You didn’t move from your stance, and it took a tentative retreat for your shoulders to relax once more. An amused huff escaped your lips, and though you kept your eyes closed, your thumb traced over the engraving on the hilt. Your very words dripped with sickly fondness, even apart you would talk of him so fondly.

“I’m surprised you can’t tell, hasn’t the proof of my love’s adoration for me been quite obvious?”

“Oh fuck me gently with the lance of fury.” The youth couldn’t help the groan that leaves his mouth, nor the roll of his eyes, not when you would take every opportunity to spew your bullshit. 

You tutted, as if scolding a child, “Language Adon.”

He rolled his eyes again, any harder and he’s certain he’ll be able to look into his brain one day. 

“Yeah yeah, whatever you say.”

The laugh that left your lips was sweet, so delighted by the chance to talk about your idiot husband that even getting to mention him is more than enough to lift your spirits. But it was still too soft, and he hated him then too, for taking away your barking laughter like this.

Tucking the dagger further into your sash, as though to keep it ever closer, a laboured breath escaped your lungs and only then did you call for him, “Wake me up when he comes, okay?”

This assistant of yours, who hates your husband more than ever, averted his gaze. The words on the scroll were blurring together and he didn’t know why. He’s never been allergic to dust, so why did his eyes water up so? Rubbing at his eyes, all he found was salty anger. 

He bit his tongue. Metallic ichor filled his mouth and stained his teeth, he bit his tongue. 

“Yeah, go back to sleep, you old bag.”

Adon realised, belatedly while your breaths were all that filled his ears and the rise of your chest was in the corners of his vision, that you never told your husband. 

Lord Phainon fails the trial of strife some time after this. The hot baths are cranked to the highest heat and your– his– department deals with the compensation some of the victims demand. There is word of his prince seeking counsel from his fellow Kremnoans.

The grey haired weirdo and their companion go off and come back with that grove scholar. Ladies Tribios appear to be missing a member. Lord Phainon and his gaggle of merry fools are sent to the Castrum Kremnos, and his prince returns a god. 

Adon could care less, his days are still filled with paperwork and making sure you don’t keel over and die on the side of the road. 

The night of your husband’s return and the triumph over something he can’t be bothered to know, you send him a message in the dead of rest. He sets a reminder to follow through the daybreak of. 

There’s something about your home that he can’t quite put his finger on. 

Chalices of similar craftsmanship sit atop a shelf, a neat stack of recipes is placed by a vase of roses, books of poetry and history arranged on a shelf by the porch. He even notices a pair of chimera carvings, one bearing a red mane and another with a deep green, their faces pressed together side by side. 

It's eerily domestic, and for all his years of knowing you, it's odd seeing it now so filled with the presence of another.

When he does locate your bedroom, he finds you encased in a woven blanket, a soft pink that seemed to dampen your already sallow features. Curled up in a too big bed, his eyes drift to the chimera plush in your arms, red mane again. There’s a cup of water on the bedside table, a letter trapped beneath a plate of soft honeycakes. 

He realises then what it is. Everything you had, and everything you will ever be, somehow revolves around him. Yet you’re alone here, you’re alone surrounded by his presence when he should be with you. 

He hates him more for this.

There is no smile that greets him, no cutting remark on his expression, all he gets from you is an urge to come closer. 

He pushes past a sheer curtain, the light sifting through the fabric as he enters your bedroom. His steps are heavy, dragging along the floor like lead. It suddenly feels too personal, too intimate. He’s never been in here before, and though only the two of you inhabit this small building, he feels unwelcome despite your gaze. 

No matter, he’s felt this way countless times, in this damned city, under the looks of people cruller than you could ever be. 

The first sentence out of your mouth wouldn’t be considered normal if it were anyone else, a morbid greeting that would put anyone off. 

“Adon, what do you think the afterlife is like?”

You know he’s never put much thought into useless things like this. He simply huffs, “Don’t know, don’t care. As long as Eryx isn’t where I am, I’m happy.”

“That sounds like you, I’m sure your personal paradise would be jabbing him with a dull spear while he begs you to stop.” Your eyes crinkle together, the fact that you can still picture something like that so clearly only mildly takes the edge off his bones. “I hope it's nice, I’d quite like to spend the rest of my days doing nothing but weaving and thinking of him.”

“Love brained idiot, it's not like you’ll actually die from this,” Scoffing, he covertly closes the curtains, ties the ends to frame the entryway the way you like it. Somehow, his fingers struggle with something as simple as this. 

You won’t die. You can’t die. That’s not fair, this disgusting world can’t take you away like this. You deserve more dignity, you deserve to die in your bed grey haired and wrinkly, not like this, not so soon. 

“We’ll all die one day, and if Lord Phainon is willing, maybe I’ll be waiting to catch sight of him once more.”

His brows knit together, and you chide at him lest he gets prematurely wrinkly. He moves to pull a chair out regardless of his doubt but you shake your head, reaching for his hand as the tips of your fingers prod into his palm. He only watches, can only watch as you pull out that damned dagger from the depths of your form. The light of the world bearing titan’s gift reveals its visage to him in its entirety, but he’s not too focused on that more than he’s worried on how much strain is placed on your hands.

A scoff escapes him, eyes narrowed as you push the weapon onto him. “What the hell are you–?!”

“Adon, did I tell you what this knife means?”

He doesn’t respond. Truth be told, he only half knows. He’s seen you use it to cut open fruit, wiped clean to slice open letters, used for nothing so noble that its appearance seems to call for. 

But Adon hates looking at that stupid thing, he hates that even now you keep it so cherished when the man who gave it to you has betrayed you so. How can you keep such a damning item on you? If it were him, he would have thrown it into the black tide a long time ago. 

Weighty in his hands, the warmth from your body just barely warms the cold weapon. Its sheathed, rose vines wrap around it in twines of gold or brass (he doesn’t know, he can’t quite focus on something as useless as that when faced with your trembling hands). Even the engraving bears a rose, a blood red crystal the heart of the bloom, and he hates it even more. A flower born of blood and love, his mother told him once, petals stained by the life of a fleeing lover as proof of their eternal love. He hates it, he hated it then he hates it now. Who would be so stupid to spill blood for something as fragile as love? 

Loyalty made more sense, but love? 

“Yeah, your stupid idiot husband gave that to you instead of literally anything else.” Rolling his eyes, he struggles to keep the spite in his voice mild. 

You laugh at this, the ghost of that barking humour just barely clinging to the dregs of your voice. It's but a humoured breath now, and yet still you strain yourself to speak, “Can you keep it for me? Please.”

The breath that once resided in his lungs seems to evacuate the moment your words leave your pale lips. 

“What are you talking about? Are you going senile now?”

“I told Lady Castorice that when the time comes, I want her to put me to rest, and you know I have no one else to give all this to.”

Your face looked so peaceful when you said that, more a corpse at rest than a living breathing mortal. The light bathed you in its otherworldly grace, and from how frail you’ve gotten, Adon worries that you were more than ready to be whisked away into Thanatos’ embrace at that very moment. 

All he can do is sneer, twist his face in rage to keep that traitorous emotion sealed in his eyes. “Have you gone mad? You’ll never come back if she takes you!”

“Adon.”

“You….” He can’t find the words to yell at you, why can’t he find the words now of all times? 

You have to know, you can’t not know! How can one man make you so weak?! You’re not a pining damsel in a shitty romance novel! You’re the chief accountant, you bear authority rivalling kings! You’re more than that idiotic foolish dimwitted man’s lover!

The words never come to him, and all he can do is sneer at your placated expression, “You’re so stupid! How can you throw away your life just because your stupid husband is leaving you?!”

“Adon,” Your call for him is ignored. 

He’s all too aware that he must resemble a petulant child now but he could care less. He’d rather piss off Daros than listen right now. “No! I’m not taking it!” 

He wants to keep yelling at you, even if getting through that thick skull of yours is but a far flung dream. You wouldn’t listen to him, he knows, but the thought of telling you that you shouldn’t have tied yourself so intricately to someone like Mydei is all that lingers on his mind. 

Yet his words die in his throat, they couldn’t possibly continue on, not in front of you. 

Your cold hands wrap around his, he can’t feel the scars on your palms anymore. They’re so soft now, even your nails have grown longer. 

“Adon, this dagger was a promise.”

The bitter smile on your lips is stained by the blood that stains them, even as you choke and vomit these disgusting thoughts that you should have never known, he doesn’t pull away. No matter, you don’t let him keep what’s left of your will anyways. “But fate is cruel, and sometimes we can’t fight against what we’re destined to become.”

“All my lives were never meant to be anything more than steps to his true home, and mortal lives like mine mean nothing if it means the safety and prosperity of Amphoreus.”

“It doesn’t matter how much I love him, my love cannot keep him away from his destiny.”

Shaking your head, it is as if what you speak is nothing but objective fact. You no longer pick at your nails, opting to run the pads of your fingers over rings that never had a place on those hands of yours years ago. More engraved roses, he hates the flower more. 

“I don’t know whether I’ll live through this, and if I don’t, you’ll get everything, okay?” A ghost of a sigh is all you manage, all you can. He can’t look at you, not when you’ve become so resigned to remain a footnote in someone else’s life. 

The weapon is still heavy in his hand, and when your eyes seem to glaze over, he surreptitiously places it on the bedside table, trapping the unopened letter beneath its weight. Half eaten honeycakes and a still full cup, at the very least your husband hadn’t deigned to let you starve in his traitorous absence. He hates the smell of it, but can’t bear to take it away when your gaze lingers. 

That knife is a promise. It must be some shitty promise if you’re so willing to hand it off to him the moment you can. 

His knees feel unsteady, he doesn’t know when your house got so dusty, or so cold. Blinking, his breath catches in his throat when he realises how shaky his voice is. This never happened before, not when his father cursed him for his career option, not when his siblings left one after the other to fight in something far bigger than themselves. 

They weren’t stupid like you or your husband, he realises. 

Adon can only look at you from the corner of his eyes, any more and he doesn’t know whether he’d be able to keep himself whole. He hates this feeling, hates that your stupid marriage and your stupid lack of communication is what toils him so much.

“How… how can you be so okay with this?” He ignores the way his words waver in the wind, the breeze carrying his sentiments more so than his own power. 

A breath escapes your lips, a whisper in the wind that erupts into barking laughter. The very sound of it demands his attention, how you cackle as if possessed by the spirits of strife. There could be no other explanation to this… This! Your very form would deem you frail and weak, yet here you sit imbued with the will of a thousand soldiers. 

“Do you think he just up and left?” Crinkling your eyes together, the point of your canines glints under the light as you bare your teeth to him in some cruel mixture of amusement and grief. “Adon, my love is not a cruel monster.”

The dregs of your mirth still cling to your words, and it is now he hates his healthy sight. Sorrowful dews cling to your lashes, yet they’re ephemeral in their transience, leaving nothing behind in your mournful seas. “I’m grateful he loved me, I’m happy he spent what time he had left as a man with me. But I’ll miss him, I’ll keep missing him even if I'm nothing but a passing thought to him.”

“Then come with me! If I have to go see him off then you should too! You’re his–”

–lover. 

You’re his lover. 

But he’s your love, your reason for life. He can’t even lie to himself, he knows you were barely living all those years ago, and he knows. He can call you stupid and foolish all he wants, but had you never met him, you would have been welcoming Thanatos’ embracing arms long before Nikador fell. 

He hates him. He hates him. How could he make you so dependent on him then leave you like this?

Why are you smiling like that? Why won’t you ever listen to him when it comes to things like this? Why are you always so stubborn and so willing to let yourself be left behind?!

All you can manage is a shaky breath, through your smile and your shrouding sorrow, yet despite it all you will still speak of him so fondly, “If I did, I don’t know whether I’ll be able to let him go.”

“If he ever comes back, don’t give it to him, okay? It would be better if he forgets me.”

“I thought about burying it with me but,” Another mirthless laugh leaves your lips, why do you only laugh at your troubles? You meet his eyes, and suddenly Adon simply feels the need to return it. “I don’t want someone digging up my grave to take it.”

“It's a good knife, and who knows? Maybe you pass it down to the next sucker as some heirloom.” You laugh, like a mother huffing about her will. 

He hates the way you feel about your own life, your own possessions. 

The dagger mocks him from the corners of his vision, your own form taunts him for his incompetence. He’s not in the mood to even indulge this stupid thought of yours. 

“You’re not thinking right. Go back to sleep.”

Wrapping the blanket around yourself tighter, all you do is rest your head against the pillow, closing your eyes as the corners of your lips raise again, “Maybe you’re right.” With a hum, it's as though to speak of him was to take another breath, to think of him to live another day, “At least I’ll see my love in my dreams again.”

Return to that field of flowers, a place where neither pain nor mortal troubles can reach you. Rest easy and lay your weary head, your Adon will come back soon.

Your assistant is grateful that if anything, he’s become intimately aware of your husband’s habits if only for the hours of his life he’s wasted listening to you yap on and on and on about this and that. He hates that he knows where to find him, it's useless information in his mind but information nonetheless. 

The prince– no, not anymore– Mydei only quirks a brow when he notices the youth’s presence. You must have told him that he’s taken on most of your responsibilities with your condition, and beneath the shade of awnings and taut silks, your vice chief only regards the man with an apathetic look.

“I’m surprised, did you sneak out from work just to come here?” His voice is clear, low but clear. 

There is little amity between them, he knows. A kind of pettiness only seen between children feuding over trivial matters. So even as he crosses his arms, he only scoffs, “Don’t get it twisted, boss gave me the day off and I thought I should see what the hullabaloo is all about.”

“I don’t care that you’ve become a god or whatever, and honestly I could care less about all this…” Waving a hand around the fanfare that is soon to await him, Adon’s features twist ever the more in his vexation.

“But I have a bone to pick with you.”

Amusement is all that greets him, and for once he isn’t sure whether this is true or false. Yet as he speaks, his steady lilt wavers at the mention of you, always has, always will. 

Mydei gestures for him to continue, “Go on then, let me hear what they’ve probably already told me.”

It takes a while for Adon to comprehend the insurmountable anger that seems far too much for what he thought he bore. He isn’t sure whether this emotion is his own anymore, it's more than anger, more than fiery fury that burns away at everything mortal. But under the light, under the day's radiance which illuminates all, he thinks of the promise you whispered to him before you closed your eyes. 

Brass or gold, he doesn’t know. But in his mind, the dagger looks so familiar when compared to its original owner, and an inkling of a thought reveals itself to him when the sheen of armor and sheath glisten beneath the light of day. 

Do you think of your husband’s gauntlets when you see that blade? Do the roses of bloody love remind you of your husband’s blood stained sinews? 

When you wrap your hands around the hilt of your dagger, whose chest do you wish to plunge it into?

“Remember them,” Through gritted teeth and narrowed eyes, he snarls, “I want you to remember them for as long as you live.”

“When you think of your life here, remember their face and know that you left when they loved you most. Even if you’ve lost your humanity, remember it was them who loved you as a man.”

“And when the time comes that you may return, know that there is no next time.” 

Your husband’s tone is low, always low, but the hair on the back of his neck pricks at the warning bite in his words, “What are you implying?”

God, demigod, king, that doesn’t matter to him, regardless of what his instincts tell him. 

“What do you think I’m implying? Surely you’re smart enough to understand,” Mocking him, he merely narrows his eyes. 

And just like a fool, he quiets. Not so much a fool then. 

“Be there in my stead, don’t leave–” He wavers again, only with your name, always with your name. The sound is choked, strangled from lungs and stomach and yet it's just like yours. To speak of you is to take another breath. To think of you is to live another hour.  “--alone, not like this.”

“Like I need you to tell me that, I’m not stupid.”

The chief accountant of Okhema sneers, and though for many to meet a demigod’s eyes head on could only mean trouble, he could care less. 

The chief accountant once compared their husband’s eyes to brilliant stars, the great light through the skies that brings hope to all who see it. But he only sees the flames of strife, nothing so beautiful that he should wax poetry. 

He can barely bear to look at him anymore, your work is piling up and soon you’ll be chiding at his ears about getting buried in his own grudges. 

In a fashion of mock deference, he lowers his gaze and bids his prince farewell. He doesn’t care about the furrow on the man’s brow, he doesn’t care that he can clearly see the hurt and agony in his very being. He doesn’t care if he is being cruel or ruthless– 

“Guardian of Amphoreus, last king of Kremnos, son of Gorgo, may you triumph over death forever more.”

–because Adon hates the god of his unfamiliar homeland.  

He hates your husband, more than anything on this planet. 

And since you can’t bring yourself to hate him, then let him be the one to do so.

[writingoddess1125]

Crocodile Beauty and Beast Effect

<<< Masterlist

Welp this one won by a damn landslide! Hope you enjoy!

Crocodile x FemReader

⚠️ WARNINGS: ⚠️ Obsessive/Possessive Behavior, Murder (This is Crocodile afterall..), Sexual Harrassment (Not from Crocodile), Sexual Inuendo (From Crocodile-)

• Crocodile is not know to me a man of affection or kindness. Seen as a Cruel man who murders on a whim and will laugh in the face of any he strikes down. Heartless to the core..

• However he does have a heart-

• You. His Dessert Rose-

• His Wife

• The one he hides from the world as his most precious of treasures. Something worth more then any diamond or even the One Peice itself.

• However while most would expect some locked up princess or women tied to some bedpost crying to be free-

• But I think his spouse wouldn't be some damsel, It would get on his nerves too damn much and hed probably lash out- Or someone who yells back at him, that would just end up with someone dead.

• You however are perfect-

• A quiet women, dressed in comfortable but luxury clothes often found reading or writing- Listening to music and humming along to yourself.

• No extreme dresses, having full authority of the home(s) you occupied and as much freedom as desired within reason-. Often venturing to the market or making trades with locals to get something that caught your eye.

• Truthfully the only thing that would really indicate you were of a super high bracket was the fat ring on your finger that you were sure cost more then a few islands put together.

• Sure you found it a bit- Gaudy (It was tacky as hell) but you knew your husband was proud of it so you wore it with pride.

• You're a author by trade, You also repair rare books and a avid collector of antique literature.

• A fairly lucrative trade, which earned well before you got married to Sir Crocodile. However due to his well.. impressive wealth your was rendered now a nice well paying hobby-

• Still you did it often advertising when you were in town, and you did your trade incredibly well. Even if Crocodile insisted you didn't have to work and he would take care of your needs-

•Which was mainly him wanting you to stay by his side and spoil you rotten.

• "You do not have to work- You are more then welcome to lounge and do nothing" Crocodile said calmly as he watched you gently repair the endpaper of a antique book someone had commissioned.

"No, I enjoy this" You say simply, dipping your brush in more glue. Not even looking up to Crocodile.

Then making him growl in annoyance.

"What if I demand you to quit- You wouldnt be able to stop me if I did My Flower" He chimes, giving a dark almost sinister grin down at you as he took a huff of his cigar.

You calmly set your brush down, Looking up to him with a sharp gaze and narrowed eyes.

"Try."

That ended that conversation fairly fast as he allowed you to do as you pleased.. if not grumbling about it under his breath.

• You didn't take shit from anyone let alone your husband.

• However you don't need to scream or yell, A sharp look and a tight frown are all is needed to make him stop- at least enough to listen to a opposing opinion

• Besides if you do raise your voice it's for a damn good reason-

And for Crocodile he'd make sure you only need to raise your voice saying his name in the bedroom

• The man however adores you- head over heels, He loves you in every which way imaginable.

• Just as Much as you love him- He may be gruff and crass but you love every bit of him, No part of either you is unloved.

• Especially on Crocodile side- in a very perverted sense.. He is fast to strike if he sees you bend over for paper, or fast to lift your skirt if it's short enough- Paired with using his sand to his advantages

• Sand does like to find itself in crevices- Much to your annoyance.

• Despite this he does deeply respects you- Your thoughts, Your feelings- He takes what you say into consideration.. Even if he has to swallow his pride.

Sir Crocodile paced in his office, Face twisted up in that crooked smile of his as he layed out his next plan of attack on the Marines always telling you what his next moves would be in full detail as he knew youd provide the best feedback.

"It is perfect, I know it is my Flower, What are your thoughts?"

He said proudly, looking to you seated on his desk right were he had placed you. Your eyes however down cast to some paper next to you as you wrote something down.

You silently hold out what you had been writing, Crocodile raising a brow as he snatches them and looks them over-

There you had written a more polished version of his plan, making his face twist up in confusion as he read over it.

"You changed the timing, and location of the attack. Why?"

"The area you're planning is prone to storms that time of year so it makes sense the Marines will use a different route to avoid it- Paired with when they head out. It allows you to also use that channel to the left which flows fast, Letting you have control of the situation"

He looked to you now thinking it over.

"How would you know something like that?-"

"We were talking about the weather over there last week since I had to wait to ship one of the commissioned books I was telling you about-"

You say plainly, smiling softly as you see your husband face twist in a fake frown at you.

"I hate it when you do that-"

You can't help bit giggle, watching as he leaned over and placed a kiss on the top of your head in a silent thanks.

• It was often you two would share moments like this- You having him read over your manuscripts and you reading over his plans.

• While he was prideful and stubborn- You were the thing to help curve that and force him to listen to reason.

• Somwhat-

• You know deep down he is possessive and obsessive- He likes to keep what is his, and sees you as such. While you are free to do as you please, you know in the back of your head if he truly wanted you'd be locked away forever-

• Always seconds away from being snagged in his jaws and never see the light of day again.

• If it wasn't for your nature and you suspect his respect he has for you- You doubt you'd be in the position you are in to have the level of control or freedom you possess.

• Crocodile may act as the Head. However you are the neck that turns it- Or in your case the mild winds that can change the direction of a Raging storm.

• While Crocodile does not like to bring you to the eyes of others- But he does take you with him.

• He didn't like the idea of keeping you too far away having a desire to keep an eye on important things-

• If he is on a mission he will stash you on a island far enough from any real damage but at least a short sail away.

• It always does tickle your funny bone watching how he does this- Sort of reminds you of a paranoid squirrel.

• Looking in different spots to hide resources before digging it back up to hide in a different spot.

• But you never minded, Honestly preferring to stay more to the side lines- hidden away in his hiding spots to stay safe.

• You'd heard second hand how, unkind the pirating world could be so knew that if you were exposed it wouldn't be a very good experience.

• However fate seemed to say nope to your plans to stay to the side.

• It took only one incident to bring you to the forefront unfortunately..

You had been brought to the Cross Guild, seemingly Crocodile having deemed it important enough and somewhat safe to bring you here- You assumed it was due to the time he needed to be here.

Already silently choosing to stay in more private quarters- There was a lot of people, loud ones at that.. Having heard the crowd and feeling like the large bed and nice room was good enough..

Till you got hungry-

And by the noise with even with how far your room was from the main building you could hear how rowdy it was. Assuming anyone working in the kitchens wouldn't be able to assist for some time.

Truthfully from the noise alone you hoped those poor kitchen workers got paid well.

But no matter- You had no problem getting something yourself anyway.

It was a rather long walk to the main Guild, having easily been able to follow the flow of the hallways to where the main kitchens would be.

Having only briefly paused by a large archway when you heard that signature cackle-

'HE HEH HE'

Taking a peak through it was incredibly packed it seemed, You could see your husband not far off. A smile playing softly on your lips as you saw him there cackling and drinking, tormenting a blue haired clown it seemed for his own amusement, shaking your head softly at his antics- Stepping back as you went to continue your task at hand till you bumped into something.

Looking up as a rather dumpy looking pirate, a drunk one at that stared down at you.

"Woah! You're a pretty one- I thought they only had ugly whores here"

The smell of liquor on his breath made your nose wrinkle, finding him rather disgusting even in talking paired with his appearance...

"Im not an escort... I'm heading elsewhere- Excuse me" You say, Attempting to walk past him but he moved fast blocking your path fast.

"Hold On! I wasnt done- how much?" He asked, now a bit more aggressively.

"Im not a escort.. Let me through-" You say sharply. A peg of worry now going through you as he seemed to he blocking your main points kmof exit- Just large enough you could tell if you tried to move he would grab you fast.

"Still, You gotta have some sort of price, I'll make it worth your while" He sneered before grabbing your wrist hard pulling it up above your head forcing you closer to him- Your chest now touching his body to your disgust.

"HEY! Let Go of Me!" You scream out, trying to pull your wrist from him-

Feeling his free hand drift far too close to your hip-

Before you felt what could only feel like bloodlust fill the air almost choking you out.

There all hell broke lose, a slam of sand hitting the man as his hand felt like it almost dissolved from around your wrist-

Your eyes closed tightly as a yelp left you from the force as you heard the grinding of bone, wet flesh not far from you and noises you'd never want to hear ever again from a living creature- Squinting your eyes only slightly to see what was visible of your husband.

His body was nothing short of a storm with only specks of his body visible, other innocent people also getting pelted by the storm now in the building.

He was enraged- His face was twisted up as he had even dropped the cigar that usually hung from his lips, his face a twisted up growl.

"Stop" You say through the storm before you, hand reaching out gripping on the gold hook you could make out from the swirls of sand.

What could be seen of Crocodile head snapping down to look at you as you stood to his side your hand raised to block the sand blowing on your face and body. The winds picking at your clothes as you struggled to even stand.

However just like that the sand dropped- Going from a Raging sand storm to almost soft sands on a beach around you- his large form once again visible.

"... (Y/N).. You alright my Flower?"

He said rather softly, looking to you as the sand slowly started to return to him and leaving your clothes and hair- While he placed a large hand on your shoulder as his eyes darted around you, seemingly checking you over to make sure you weren't harmed by the drunk pirate.. or himself.

"Yes.. Was just a bit startled is all"

You admit, Coming down yourself from it all having not felt the force of Crocodile so angry in a incredibly long time-

You turn a bit to look behind you where you had heard what used to be a man however Crocodile hand moved fast from your shoulder to touch your cheek to stop from turning. His eyes saying it all..

This was not something for your eyes to see.

"What brought you down here Love?"

"I was just coming to grab dinner and-"

"Next time Come straight to me- I'll handle it all, Now I thought you were working on that latest book of yours?"

He cuts you off quick started to guide you back to the room with a hand on your lower back making his coat cover you from prying eyes- You can see he is still upset and know it's for the best to put him to ease speaking about your writing so far to him and staying close to him.

Crocodile listened closely, waving to servents to clean up his mess and bring the two of you dinner- before he gave a single glance back at the whole Guild as if silently threatening them all continuing on his way with you to your shared Quarters.

All of the guild now dead silent and watching- Even Buggy and Mihawk both sharing a look of- well concern...

Having never thought they would see the day someone stopped the very very short tempered Warlord with a single word.

It was frightening-

Also seeing that Sir Crocodile was angry enough he hadn't even bothered to dehydrate the poor man like how he normally did-

No

He had shredded him and leaving a bloody mess on the floor. A gorey and gruesome fate most would never think he was capable of-

It was there they all thought the exact same thing. Each member now terrified to get too drunk as they all looked at the bloody mess.

There was a person who was both held captive by the beast as well as controlled it.

And she wore a big gaudy ring-

[grimesve1l]

Want

Summary: JJ sneaks off with his favorite kook at midsummer's

Warnings: Swearing, possessiveness, degradation, smut (mdni), oral m!receiving, p in v, unprotected sex

You had spent the entire week preparing so that you would look your absolute best tonight. For girls like you midsummers was a night to flaunt wealth and beauty. You're a stereotypical kook girl, your reputation is everything. That being said even you had your secrets and the biggest one of all was none other than JJ Maybank.

You knew if anyone found out about you two , it'd be over for you but you just couldn't help yourself . All your life you've gotten exactly what you wanted and if this time what you wanted happened to be a blonde haired, blue eyed pouge then so what. You'd have him too.

This mindset is how you ended up in this dynamic with him. You two weren't dating but the way the two of you snuck around sure made it seem like it. Tonight was a prime example of this. You had first seen JJ on the dance floor passing a note to Sarah Cameron of all people.

You couldn't stand Sarah and seeing her so close to JJ made you furious. You quickly wrote a note of your own and slipped it to JJ as you passed by him. After that you went to one of the many bathrooms the venue had and waited. Within minutes you heard a specific knock on the door that you knew belonged to him.

You quickly open the door letting him in before you slam it shut and lock it. JJ tries to lean down to kiss you but you push him back against the door before he can. "You think I'm gonna let that shit slide?" you say looking him dead in the eyes.

"Let what slide?" JJ asks confused. "I saw you and Sarah. You think that's cute?" you continue accusing him. "Chill out, there's nothing going on with her. I was just doing a friend a favor." he says trying to ease your grip on him.

Your grip only tightens "Your mine JJ. I don't give a fuck what you were doing. Don't get that close to her again." you say pressing yourself even closer to him. "What, you jealous." he asks smiling down at you. "So what if I am?" You reply.

"Nothing wrong with it in fact i think it's hot." he says gripping your hips as he whispers the last part. This was all you needed to lean up and press your lips against his. He groans when the back of his head hits the door. This gives you the perfect opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth.

As soon as you try to deepen the kiss he pulls you back by your hair. "You kooks always try to be in control of everything. You know damn well I'm in charge of this." he says making you look at him. "JJ-" you begin as you try to get out of his grasp. "Quit whining and get on your knees. Don't forget you're the one who told me to come in here."

Knowing that he's not gonna let go off you unless you do, you sink to your knees in front of him. "Go ahead you know what to do." he says now looking down at you. You unzip his pants and take his cock out of his boxers.

You give it a few tugs before you give the tip a light lick. "Don't start you teasing shit." he mutters before grabbing your hair and forcing his cock into your mouth. You immediately gag as he hits the back of your throat relentlessly. Your hands grip onto his thighs tying to brace yourself.

He pulls your head back momentarily for you to catch your breath before continuing his actions. "Fuck baby. I'm gonna cum. Yeah?" he tells you. You can only mumble a "mhm" around his cock as his hips begin to falter. He delivers one final thrust before his cum shoots down your throat.

He lets go of your hair and you pull back before swallowing. As he leans against the door you begin licking any remnants of his release off his cock. "Goddamn look at you. Who knew kook girls were such dirty whores." he says watching you. "And who knew pouge boys liked it so much." you respond looking up at him through your lashes.

"Get up." he tells you. "I'm kinda busy right now." you respond still lapping at his cock as it begins to harden once again. He quickly grabs you and puts you on your feet only to bend you over the bathroom counter. "You've got a smartass mouth you know that?" he says as he pulls your panties down your legs.

"Shut up." you reply as you watch him through the mirror. "You act like you aren't soaked from sucking my dick." he says motioning to your dripping cunt. He takes his cock and lines it up before he quickly pushes inside you. You let out a yelp at the unexpected intrusion.

"You better be quiet. Wouldn't want all your kook friends to know you like getting fucked by a pouge." he tells you as he begins roughly thrusting in and out. You lower your head as you try to contain the noises you let out. "Don't do that." he says wrapping your hair around his hand as he pulls making your head come up as well.

He forces you to watch as he continues to fuck into you. "What you to see what a slut your are." he grunts out as he looks at you through the mirror. "JJ it feels so good." You moan. "Yeah? You gonna cum on this dick?" he replies. "Yes." you whimper out as you feel your orgasm start in to build.

Your legs begin to get weak as you're about to cum. JJ maneuvers the two of you so he can hold you up as he thrusts into you. "Oh shit i'm gonna cum." you say as your orgasm starts to wash over you. "Fuck Y/n." JJ says as you pulse around him.

He stops thrusting as he cums inside you. He lets go of your hair and pulls out of you before zipping his pants back up. As you lay against the counter he pulls your panties back up your legs so they catch any cum that could drip out. "Later babe." he whispers into your ear before he presses a kiss to your forehead and leaves.

Once you hear the door click you begin to stand up on your wobbly legs. You look at yourself in the mirror. Your eyeliner is running down your face and your lipstick is smudged all over your mouth. You can also feel the way both JJ's and your cum leaks into your panties.

If anyone you knew saw you now you would be the talk of the town. You didn't care though, looking at how you had let JJ wreck you didn't bother you at all. Because after all it's what you wanted.

A/n: Went back to my roots as a JJ girl to write this one lmao

[insidekatmind]

Possession~Hwang Jun-ho

Wearning: +18,smut,dark, manipulation.

Request: yes!

The door clicks shut behind you. You barely have time to take off your coat before a pair of strong arms wrap around you, holding you against a warm, solid chest. The familiar scent of him envelops you.

"Where have you been?" His voice is low, almost a whisper, but it's filled with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. You know that if you look up, you'll find his dark eyes studying you with an almost suffocating intensity.

"I was just out with a friend, Jun-ho," you reply in a calm tone, trying to break free from his embrace, but he doesn't let go. His fingers run up your arm, gripping your wrist with a forced gentleness, as if to show that he's not trying to hold you back... and yet, that's exactly what he's doing.

"A friend? Which friend?" His gaze darkens. "Why didn't you tell me before you left? You know how much I care about you. You know I just want to protect you."

His tone is soft, but underneath the sweetness lies something deeper, a need that borders on obsession. You try to look away, but he lifts your chin with two fingers, forcing you to look into his eyes.

"You drive me crazy when you disappear like that," he whispers, his breath hot on your skin. "I never want to think that anything could happen to you. I always want to know where you are, who you're with. I want to be the only one you need."

Your heart beats faster, not sure if it's from fear or the way his words slither into you like a hypnotic melody. You know Jun-ho well enough to know that his love is a fire that burns with a flame that can't be controlled. He’s sweet, attentive, caring… but also jealous, possessive, obsessed with you in a way that sometimes leaves you breathless.

“Jun-ho, you don’t have to worry so much,” you try to reassure him, placing a hand on his chest to put some distance between you. “I love you, you know that. But I need some space.”

His lips curve into a thin smile, but his eyes don’t reflect the same warmth. “Space? Why? Don’t I already give you everything you need? Aren’t I enough for you?”

He holds you tighter, his breathing heavier. His fingers slide to the back of your neck, fingertips tracing slow circles on the sensitive skin. “I don’t want anyone to take you away from me. I won’t let that happen. You’re mine.”

His words envelop you, a whisper that worms its way into your mind. You know Jun-ho would never hurt you, yet there is something in the way he holds you, in the way he says those words, that makes you feel both a prisoner and desired like never before.

You are his. And you know it.

You caress the muscles of his shoulders. "I'm yours, love," you whisper softly. A low growl escapes him, and he hugs you even closer, his face buried in your neck. His lips press against your skin, leaving behind a trail of soft kisses.

"You have no idea what it does to me when you say that," he murmurs, the possessive edge in his voice even more pronounced. "I want you all to myself."

His hands slide down your back, fingers tracing every curve of your body with a desperate possessiveness. He's craving you, his touch is almost like a hunger.

He presses you against the wall, trapping you between his body and the hard surface. His lips move to your jawline, nibbling and sucking on the sensitive skin, leaving a trail of red marks behind.

One of his hands slides up to your hair, gripping it tightly, forcing you to look up at him. His eyes are dark with desire, and he's breathing heavily.

"You're mine," he growls, his voice low and commanding. "I don't want anyone else to have you."

Your breath quickens as he pins you against the wall, his body pressed firmly against yours. His touches are possessive, claiming. Every kiss and caress is a mark of ownership.

You gulp, unable to break free from his grip on your hair. You're trapped, completely at his mercy. Yet, there's something inside you that heats and tingles when he speaks those words.

"Nobody else has me, Jun-ho," you reply, your voice trembling with both fear and arousal. "You're the only one I want. You're the only one I need."

His hand tightens in your hair, pulling your head back even further, exposing your neck to him. He latches onto your skin, biting and sucking with an almost feral hunger.

"Good," he mutters against your skin, his breath hot and ragged. "I don't want to share you. You're mine, mine alone."

He lifts one leg, hooking it around your waist, pressing your body even tighter against his. He grinds against you, his hardness evident through his pants.

The mixture of pain and pleasure from his bites on your neck sends a shiver down your spine. His possessive words, coupled with the way his body is pressed against yours, makes it hard to think straight.

You cling to him, fingernails digging into the fabric of his black t-shirt. You can feel his need, the desire that burns in every touch.

He captures your lips in a fierce kiss, his tongue plunging into your mouth as he devours you. He moans against your lips, the sound vibrating through his chest.

His hands roam over your body, desperate to touch every inch of you. He lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, and pins you against the wall even more firmly.

He breaks the kiss only to attack your neck again, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin, leaving more marks on you. He's claiming you, branding you as his property.

"Jun-ho," you gasp, feeling the way he grinds against you. The air is thick with tension, and you're both barely holding on to control.The mixture of pain and pleasure from his bites on your neck sends a shiver down your spine. His possessive words, coupled with the way his body is pressed against yours, makes it hard to think straight.

You cling to him, fingernails digging into the fabric of his black t-shirt. You can feel his need, the desire that burns in every touch.

"Jun-ho," you gasp, feeling the way he grinds against you. The air is thick with tension, and you're both barely holding on to control.

The intensity of the kiss makes your head spin, your thoughts clouded by desire and need. His touch is everywhere, his lips exploring every inch of your skin, each bite and kiss only feeding the fire growing in your core.

You cling to him, digging your fingernails into his back, silently begging for more. You can feel his hardness pressed against you, a reminder of just how much he wants you.

"Please," you gasp, unable to form coherent words. His possession, his claim, only drives you more wild.

He pulls back from your neck, his lips hovering just above your ear. His breath is hot against your skin as he whispers, "Please what, baby? You want more?"

His hands move down to your thighs, gripping them firmly, his fingers digging into the flesh. He grinds against you again, a low growl escaping his throat.

"You're mine, and I'm not going to hold back," he murmurs, his voice filled with a possessive edge. "I'm going to take what I want from you, and you're going to give it to me."

Your body tingles with anticipation at his words, the sheer dominance in his voice only serving to drive your desire even higher.

"I'm yours," you respond, your voice barely above a whisper. "Take whatever you want, Jun-ho. I'll give you everything. I'm all yours."

The fire within you is burning brighter with each passing moment, fueled by his possessive touch and dominating words. You wrap your legs tighter around his waist, wanting to get closer to him, wanting to be consumed by him.

His eyes darken at your words, and he lets out a low, guttural growl. He pushes himself even closer to you, his body flush against yours, pinning you against the wall.

He buries his face in your neck again, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. His hands slide under your t-shirt, exploring your body with a possessive touch.

"Good girl," he whispers against your skin. "You're so perfect for me. You're going to drive me crazy with how much I want you."

He starts to move his hips against you, his movements slow and deliberate, driving you both closer to the edge.

You moan softly, your body quivering beneath his touch. His words only fuel the fire within you, his possessive touches heightening your desire even further.

His movements against you are agonisingly slow, each one drawing a gasp from your lips, your body trembling with need. You try to grind against him, but he has you completely at his mercy, pinned against the wall.

"Jun-ho," you whine, "I need you. Please. Don't tease me like this."

The intensity in his eyes is almost feral as he rips off your clothing, the sound of fabric tearing breaking the silence. His gaze is fixed on you, like a predator eyeing its prey.

He presses himself against you, his body a solid wall against your bare skin. The feel of him against you, all hard muscle and heat, makes your breath catch in your throat.

"You're mine," he says, his voice thick with desire. "All mine."

He tosses your clothes aside, leaving you completely exposed to his gaze. His eyes roam over your body, taking in every inch of you.

He steps back just enough to appreciate the view, his eyes darkened with lust. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble.

He reaches out, running his fingers over your skin, tracing the lines of your curves. He moves closer again, his body pressing against yours, his hands exploring every inch of your skin.

"I can't get enough of you," he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. "I want to taste every inch of you, to claim every part of you as mine."

You shiver as his fingers ghost over your skin, setting your nerves ablaze with pleasure. The feel of his body against yours, so hard and needy, makes your breath hitch.

His words, whispered against your ear, only make your desire burn even hotter. You arch against him involuntarily, seeking more of his touch, more of his claiming.

"You can have me," you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm yours. All of me. Take what you want."

He lets out a low growl at your words, his fingers digging into your hips as he presses you even harder against the wall.

"That's what I like to hear," he says, his voice rough with need. "You're going to give me everything, aren't you? You're going to let me claim you completely."

He lifts you up again, wrapping your legs around his waist once more, and carries you over to the nearest surface. He sets you down on the couch, his body between your legs, his eyes burning with desire.

The couch cushions shift beneath you as he positions your body exactly how he wants, his movements calculated and efficient. He leans over you, his body a solid weight on top of you, pinning you in place. His gaze bores into you, his expression a mix of possessiveness and need.

"I'm going to make sure you're completely mine," he whispers, his hands roaming over your body. "I won't let you leave my sight."

Jun-ho undresses and you admire him, looking at his abs and muscles.

Your eyes roam over his body, taking in the sight of his toned muscles and defined abs. He's powerful, every inch of him a testament to the strength and control that he exudes.

You reach out, unable to resist touching him. Your fingers trail over his abs, tracing the ridges of muscle, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your fingertips.He shudders at your touch, his muscles twitching beneath your fingers. He leans into your touch, his eyes closing for a moment as he savors the feeling.

"You're driving me crazy," he murmurs, his voice hoarse with desire. "Your touch is driving me wild."

He reaches down and grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head, holding you in place. His body presses against yours, trapping you beneath him.

Jun-ho thrusts his hard cock into your pussy with one swift stroke while nibbling on your nipples. He moans loudly as he enters you, the sensation overwhelming him. He keeps your wrists pinned above your head, using his body to keep you still as he sets a brutal pace.

He's completely consumed by the feeling of you, the way you feel around him, the sounds you make.

You moaned and pulled his hair as you got lost in the feeling of his cock inside you and his mouth working magic on your breasts.

He grunts in pleasure as you pull his hair, his hips bucking even harder against yours. The feeling of your nails on his scalp only serves to spur him on, driving him to claim you even more thoroughly.

He moves his mouth to your ear, biting down on the lobe. "You feel so good," he whispers, his voice a low growl. "So tight and hot around me."

His hips snap against yours with a relentless rhythm, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

His words and actions only serve to deepen your desire for him. The mix of pleasure and pain drives your body on, craving more of him.

You let out a low moan as he bites down on your ear, your body arching upwards to meet his. The sensations are building up, consuming you from the inside.

"Don't stop," you gasp, unable to form coherent thoughts. "I want you, all of you. Don't hold back."

He growls in response to your words, his grip on your wrists tightening. He knows what you want, and he's not about to disappoint you.

He pushes himself even deeper into you, hitting a spot that sends a shockwave of pleasure through your body. He bites down on your neck again, leaving another mark on your skin, marking you as his.

"You're mine," he repeats, his voice a possessive whisper against your skin. "I'm going to make you scream my name until you can't think straight."

Your body is on fire, every nerve ending heightened by his touch and whispers. The way he takes control, leaving no room for anything but his presence leaves you trembling.

His possessive words are like fuel to the fire, only heightening your desire for him even further. You crave more, and he seems to know exactly what you need.

Each thrust is intense, each touch calculated to draw out a response from you. You can feel him everywhere, his body a solid presence claiming you, marking you as his own.

"Yes," you gasp, unable to think of anything else. "Take me,Jun-ho."

He continues to thrust into you, his pace relentless and unforgiving. He's lost in the sensation of you, the way your body moves against his, the sounds you make.

He lets go of your wrists, his hands roaming over your body, touching every inch of you. He wants to feel every part of you, to possess you completely.

He leans down, his lips finding your ear again. "You're mine," he whispers, his voice low and ragged. "And I'm going to make you mine in every way possible."

His hand slides down between your legs, his fingers finding your clit, teasing and circling it with expert precision.

Your body tenses at his touch, the combination of his words and actions sending you spiraling closer to the edge. Everything is heightened, every sensation intensified.

You arch your back, your hands grasping at his shoulders, trying to anchor yourself against the onslaught of pleasure. You can't think, can't do anything except feel.

"Please," you gasp, unable to form coherent thoughts.

He grins against your skin, clearly enjoying the effect he's having on you. He knows exactly what he's doing to you, and he's taking full advantage of it.

He continues to move inside you, his fingers working your clit in time with his thrusts. He watches your face, taking in every expression, every reaction.

"Please what, baby?" he asks, his voice a low growl. "You're so close, I can feel it. Say it."

His words are like a command that ignites you further. You find yourself completely under his spell, vulnerable and needy.

"Please," you gasp again, your words breathless. "Don't stop. I'm so close."

The sensations are building up, consuming you whole. You're hanging on the edge, desperate for release.

"I need you," you whisper, your voice breaking. "I need you, Jun-ho. I'm all yours."

He lets out a low moan at your words, the sound almost feral. He increases his pace, his fingers working you even faster, his body pressing you even harder into the couch.

"That's it," he says, his voice strained. "Say it again. Tell me you're mine."

He can feel your body tightening around him, the signs of your impending release. He's so close himself, but he wants to see you come undone first.

Your thoughts are consumed by him, by the way he's making you feel. You're completely at his mercy, unable to resist his touch.

"I'm yours," you gasp, your words a broken moan. "I'm all yours, Jun-ho. Completely. Please, I can't hold on much longer."

Your body is trembling, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You're desperate for release, for the sweet relief that you know only he can give you.

He sees the desperation in your eyes, the way you're clinging to him, and it pushes him over the edge. He thrusts into you one last time, burying himself deep within you, and comes with a guttural moan.

He holds you close, his body trembling with the force of his release. He presses his face against your neck, breathing heavily as he tries to regain his composure.

"You're mine," he repeats, his voice soft and possessive. "And I'm never letting you go."

You cling to him, your body still shaking from the intensity of your release. His possessive words fill you with a sense of security, a feeling of being completely his.

You nuzzle your face into his neck, taking in the scent of him. "I don't want you to let me go," you murmur, your voice soft and honest.

You feel a mix of exhaustion and contentment, your body relaxed against him. You're spent, but completely satisfied.

He wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly against his chest. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, his heart still racing from the intensity of his own climax.

"Good," he says, his voice low and satisfied. "Because you're mine, and I'm not letting you go anywhere."

He shifts slightly, pulling out of you and laying down on the couch with you in his arms. He holds you close, his body a protective shield around you.

[lyriane]

(2.2k words short fic, again; based on the Peak of Truth, Despair Not Bond Story)

The Sage of Truth may have descended from the Peak of Truth, but the unknown Cookie before that had to ascend. To reach and grasp the pinnacle of Truth. To witness it in its finest.

Let us rewind the time, shall we?

Back to the time before the Sage of Truth was called by that title– before he could even be called the Sage of Truth. He couldn't accept being called that without his life’s greatest accomplishment.

And to attain that, one must reach the peak.

To say nothing of the trials and hardships that comes with the ascension would be too dismissive, but like with every Truth, it has to be unknown. Otherwise there would be no point seeking it, no?

When he finally reached the last steps to the peak, there were no heavenly light gracing him nor golden bells ringing harmoniously for his greatest achievement. Nothing at all. Did that disappoint him? Admittedly so, as it's simply a natural instinct to seek validation after such a deed, but not so much.

What truly drove him though; to keep trying, to go through many ordeals, was the thrill of seeking the Truth.

Are you surprised? Oh don't be.

It's always been fascinating how such basic instincts can drive any Cookie to the point of obsession. Desire, Greed, Love, Passion, and oh so many more. After all, aren't you also driven by curiosity right now?

Now that's mentioned, there was another thing aside from thrill-seeking. There's always curiosity as well. Of the years that have gone by, fleeting time as it is, there's been a constant within the endless change.

The Cookie that stood at the top of the Truth and never came down— the Hermit of Truth, the Truthless Recluse.

He wanted to meet that Cookie so badly. To see if the rumors are true, to appease his neverending curiosity, seeking the Truth in every way and form.

To meet someone who can understand him.

Yet what greeted him was nothing, nothing waited for him at the very peak of Truth.

"Stop pretending. You know all too well that there is nothing at the Peak of Truth.”

Is this truly the Truth that he has long sought for? Nothing? Nothing at all?

Eyes of yellow and blue brimmed with sorrow, despair curled around possessively, like tight noose.

“I, too, once made the same mistake, and for that, faced despair upon the Peak... There was no Truth expecting me. No Truth to save us all. And I cursed myself hundreds, thousands of times over for my folly.”

Liar. Deceiver.

There was something– no, someone at the Peak of Truth.

Would've been unnoticeable too, if he wasn't looking thoroughly for a speck of anything. Ironic, considering the Cookie’s bright white clothes. The Cookie’s stature looked small with their back turned, their clothing seemingly oversized on them.

“Hmm? Oh! My apologies, I thought I was alone here.” The Cookie finally turned around. Long golden locks of hair cascading down. A soft angelic smile greeting him.

Perhaps it was a good thing that the white Cookie's eyes were closed or else they would've seen the way he was gaping in surprise, completely shell shocked. Though unfortunately the silence from him was too obvious.

“Um..?” The white Cookie tilted their head in confusion, yet patiently waited for his response.

This.. This is definitely not the Truthless Recluse he has heard from the rumors.

He shook his head, trying to regain his sense of self. How embarrassing of him to lose composure in front of an audience!

“I apologize, this humble scholar was simply just dazzled by your beautiful appearance, good.. sir? ” He trailed off, looking at the Cookie in front of him. He couldn't tell. He just hoped that his words weren't taken as an offense by the other.

Luckily, the Cookie merely chuckled in response, even taking the compliment in stride. “Sir is fine, do not fret.”

“Though I must apologize again for not noticing you sooner. I am currently unable to see, for the staff I use as my aide is still being fixed at the moment.” The Cookie continued to softly speak, expressing himself in movements gentle and graceful.

He nodded, then quickly stopped in embarrassment. That explains a lot. He only now arrived here though, yet he didn't clear up the misunderstanding the other had. He was too curious about this enigmatic Cookie.

“That's completely reasonable. I can not fault you for that. I must ask, what is your name? If you don't mind me asking, of course.” He asked, respectfully, keeping his hand behind his back like a gentleman.

The beautiful Cookie chuckled again, surprisingly taking his respectful yet dramatic attitude, almost in a fond way. Then he bowed, playing along. “It seems I've forgotten my manners. My name is Pure Vanilla Cookie. Yours is?”

Pure Vanilla Cookie, he mouthed, testing. He almost didn't respond immediately, a little too awestruck if he had to admit. The name felt, familiar, somehow.

His name though? “Call me the Sage of Truth.” he announced, taking off his hat and bowing in return. The name rolled off his tongue effortlessly, sounding right and true.

Then he paused, momentarily feeling confusion as well as a growing sense of uneasiness. He wasn't called that, no one called him that, and he didn't have that title— Not yet.

Huh?

“Sage of Truth? Are you feeling alright?” A gentle melodious voice called, worrying for a stranger. Pure Vanilla’s hand was raised in front of him, as if wanting to hold him steady but was unable to accurately find his position

The Sage(?) shook his head, feeling off-centered, but he didn't show it. “Ah, no worries. I'm as perfectly fine as I could be!” He wouldn't admit it. Not in front of Pure Vanilla. Not in front of an audience.

Something is terribly wrong here.

Pure Vanilla didn't take his words at face value, didn't take it as the absolute truth. That seems wrong. Why is he not following the script? He still looked worried. The Sage was about to reassure him again, to lie—

“... Do you feel its influence too?” Pure Vanilla’s words shut his mouth closed. Influence? Of what, exactly? He didn't need to ask as Pure Vanilla thankfully elaborated his words.

“Here, time and space are intertwined. The future of the past and present coexist.” Pure Vanilla spoke in a wistful tone, as if fondly recalling a memory. Weirdly enough, it did feel like that. Everything seemed like it has happened before, here, yet it hasn't passed, not yet.

The Sage could not find the usual words he would say. In fact, what should he say in the face of such concept? It's the Truth. Pure Vanilla spoke of no lies. The Sage instinctively knew, and felt it too.

That Truth revealed the core of everything. Answered the familiarity, the distortion between time and memories, the feeling of not being himself— and Pure Vanilla Cookie’s presence at the Peak of Truth.

The Sage plopped down on the ground rather ungracefully, he couldn't keep himself afloat anymore. When did he start floating again? Ah no, don't question it. He sighed rather tiredly, perhaps the whole ordeal of climbing a seemingly endless peak has finally caught up to him.

Pure Vanilla Cookie only chuckled, only becoming at ease after hearing the Sage’s sigh. He too, sat on the ground, gracefully sitting down in a seiza position. Not even a single speck of dirt staining his white robes. How envious.

“.. This is all really confusing.” The Sage of Truth finally admitted, his lips thinning in annoyance. Pure Vanilla only chuckled in response, that traitor.

The Sage’s face soured, pinpointing the unusual feeling, the feeling of betrayal(?) that he shouldn't be feeling that intensely at the very moment. He shook his head, again, trying to keep his mind back on the track.

This anomaly intrigued him, of course, but by the Witches, is it so frustratingly mind-boggling. How is he meant to keep a calm enough focus to thoroughly analyze this if it kept influencing his mind, personality, thoughts, his everything down to his very soul?

Ugh, he shuddered, it was rather invasive and violating now that he thought about it. Is this really the Truth he worked so hard to get to? Then he glanced at Pure Vanilla, who was just patiently humming to himself.

Does he feel that too? Those lapses of insanity, disorientation, and feeling so unlike yourself? Thank the Witches that his memories haven't gotten influenced yet– or maybe it already has and he just hasn't noticed? Ugh, how annoying!

Perhaps it's just the Sage of Truth feeling this way. Only him. After all, he can notice it now. The sense of distortion around Pure Vanilla Cookie, he wasn't meant to be here. He's not from this time.

“.. Do you think I'll be able to meet you?” The Sage couldn't help but ask, some of the words left unsaid. His voice was placid, void of the dramatics. He has to ask as many questions as he can before Pure Vanilla goes back, he reasoned to himself.

Pure Vanilla hummed, already knew what the words that were left unsaid. The Sage of Truth solemnly stared at the broad night sky. The stars shone brighter here, at the Peak of Truth. Nothing else was brighter than the one beside him though.

“I'm sure you will meet me again.” Pure Vanilla softly whispered in the dead of night. He looked away but the Sage of Truth listened closely like it was the Truth he has always sought for.

“You and I are meant to be together.”

"Stop teaching about the Truth."

How bold of them to demand such a thing.

Yet the Sage of Truth could not help but entertain it anyways. It's always better to hear out demands, he was interested in what kind of reasons this visitor of his had to say such words.

"Why must I?" he asked instead, probing for answers.

The guest stepped closer. The ray of light illuminated his visitor’s face, revealing the dark robes and shadows hidden within. It couldn't erase the golden locks of hair, the gold and blue eyes, and the oh so dreadfully familiar face.

The Sage of Truth could not stop himself from exclaiming delightedly, like he was greeting a beloved old friend of his.

‘Pure Vanilla Cookie, I've finally met you.’

"Aaahh, if it isn't the Truthless Recluse himself. To what do I owe such a pleasure?” is what the Sage of Truth said instead.

He continued to speak, ignoring the true words he wanted to say out loud. "It is said that the Truthless Recluse never descends from the Peak of Truth... How may this humble scholar be of service to you?"

The Recluse's eyes brimmed with sorrow, the sight caused the Sage of Truth to clench his fist tightly, restraining himself. Yet the words of the Recluse struck him more.

"Stop pretending. You know all too well that there is nothing at the Peak of Truth.”

‘Liar. Deceiver.’ rang in his head. ‘You were there.’ he didn't say. ‘Don't you remember?’ That would be pointless to ask.

What did you find when you reached the Peak of Truth? The Sage of Truth wondered as he looked at the Truthless Recluse. Did you truly find nothing? Or are you lying, like the Cookie of Deceit that you are?

Are you really the Pure Vanilla Cookie I met at the Peak of Truth?

The Sage of Truth did not ask. He knew the answer already.

He only pointed upwards and said, "Alas, the Truth is imperfect by design... and yet, one must not turn away from the light of one's own Truth.”

The visage of Pure Vanilla’s gentle smile overlapped with the Truthless Recluse’s sorrowful look. Unsightly. Imperfect, and yet the Sage of Truth could not turn away from his Truth.

And with a welcoming gesture, he added, "Not unlike yourself whose Truth is to protect others from anguish.”

You are still the same.

Yesterday's visitor was long gone. The Sage of Truth stared upwards, reminiscing that time at the Peak of Truth. It was so long ago.. He could still remember it clearly though. Further drove him to spread the Truth to seekers, so he could meet him, once again.

‘You already knew who I was and who'd you be, didn't you, Pure Vanilla Cookie?’

The Sage of Truth let out a sigh, it felt like it was merely yesterday when Pure Vanilla was beside him, chuckling so tenderly. Yet the perfect image he had of Pure Vanilla was stained by the Truthless Recluse, like ink dipped into clear waters.

Idly, he traced his fingers on his Souljam and remembered the same shape on Pure Vanilla, just tilted upside down and minus the slit of eye. Everything.. All the questions he had over that day.. It all clicked, when he finally met the Truthless Recluse.

Fitting, since the Truthless Recluse was who he sought to meet from the very start.

The Sage of Truth wondered, If Pure Vanilla and the Truthless Recluse are merely counterparts… Those intense feelings, the fondness that Pure Vanilla had for him..

Who was the Sage of Truth’s counterpart?

‘Was it me, who you had met at the Peak of Truth, Truthless Recluse?’

Did he want to know?

Did he dare to seek the Truth like always?

The Sage of Truth smiled. He found his Truth. “We'll meet again,” he promised.

“For you and I are bound.”

[midnight1nk]

So, this week's episode...

[spoilers below cut]

I'M HERE I'M HERE *trips from stone pebble, face first* i'm here...

That's right, my dear fellows, your local theorist is back and freed from the basement! WA-HOO 🎉 What episode do we got today... *sees thumbnail+title* ...oh. huh.

Team...*inhales* care to tell me what. the. fuck is this? "SMG4:" IS BACK ON THE TITLE?! AND THIS DESCRIPTION?!

oh my god the Team hates me so BAD (/lh /jk) WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT?!

(the following is my live reaction:)

dude, i don't even know what to expect from this but it looks like i'm going to be incredibly annoying in this review 😅 (sorry in advance)

the way Mario goes to the front door of his home is exactly how i enter every room

Mario to Luigi: "Trying to get me back after locking you in the fridge for 5 days?" wha ...y'know what? that sounds about right

*war flashbacks to Ben's tweet*

*slowly turns to Team* what did you do? :) NOW'S NOT THE TIME FOR YOUR KNOWING SMILES, ONLY I SHOULD DO THAT. ANOTHER FNAF REF WITH THE VANNY MASK ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!

(hey nicc, buddy, how are you holding up?)

btw the Team could've gone with any mask but they went with this for 4 & 3 🤔

*points at 4* he wants that cookie SO BAD

UE UE UE THEY MEAN THE WORLD TO ME💙💜 they do be scheming

look how much they've changed 🥹 (and i will talk about them later)

AND their expressions? *dies*

*stares at Team suspiciously* wow the framing of this scene is quite interesting, huh

speak yourself, 4. you could barely handle horror games

OH I GET THE CLUE NOW @arco-doodles never could i have ever imagined a roles-reversed version of "the princess carry" 🗣️LET'S GOOOOOOO

SMG3: "You've used the same laugh in like all your videos." and ofc, you would know that. you were like his biggest fan (in the classic era), obsessed even smh /affectionate

HOLY SHIT ARE WE DOING FOUND FOOTAGE THROUGH 3'S POV/PHONE?!?! dude this is SICK

*deadpans at you through the screen* y'know...

I'm a sucker for this animation, dude

gonna bounce around the screen like the DVD logo, spooky style

well this feels familiar

and also the fact that Mario looked like that one meme with the realistic eyes (link) that Ben used as his pfp one time. what's crazy is that Ben hasn't seen this episode yet lmao

OH A BIT OF 2D PNG ANIMATION. also the eyeliner 👀

(hmm why do 4 & 3 get trapped in the weirdest places tf? /lh)

welp we found Luigi, we did it guys *cheesy thumbs-up* roll the credits

also it's giving:

i'm just going to drop this here, ok? ↓

4 lifting 3's chin :)

a TADC ref? in my SMG4 episode? it's more likely than you think

love the small details of not only Mario's post-it note of "Mario's Spaghetti, DO NOT EAT" but also his drawing of "stinky 4" just hung up on the fridge

it is still Mario....... NOT EVEN THE SPAGHETTI TRAP?

somehow 3 summoning ghosts fit with his internet graveyard/dark web role

*WHEEZE* the 2 dollar store item...

*danny phantom theme plays*

oh. uh, i'm intruding, aren't i? i should go...... ("he wants that cookie so bad" 2: electric boogaloo???)

i hired 3 & 4 to stare at you /silly /ref

love how 3 has his contacts with the regular names (Karen, Bob, etc.) meanwhile for 4, it's "StinkyMessGuy4". 4's different 💅

aw 4 🥹💙 you did a good thing in apologizing

3 NOOOOOOO

*IGBP war flashbacks*

oh, what's that? i was staring at space again? oh, no, I was trying to figure out HOW DID I MANIFEST 4'S CASTLE COLLAPSING IN AN IGBP PARALLEL OF AN EPISODE?! oh god, did the Team somehow see my WIPs of my door fanart? they're hacking into my tablet /silly

so let me get this straight: a supernatural entity with multiple eyes and red is causing chaos, starting from emerging out of the PC to eventually corrupting the castle and its ground, meanwhile, the friends believed that one of them is possessed by said entity and trying to save them in several ways. AND by the end, 3, having a character development moment, sympathizes with their "possessed" friend...

🧍 ...ok yeah I see how it is, Team. and while i was gone for the weekend? smh

eh close enough, welcome back IGBP

before i move on, it's crazy how the Team kept punching me in the gut for the "Eye of Horus/Ra" stem of the Goop!4 theory and now they jumped into the theory's "Eye of God" and Christianity thing with Mario's new form. "wow Mario really is 4's avatar" i can never catch a break 😔 /silly

here's some context *flashback noises*:

*le gasp* he apologized?! BIG MOMENT HERE FOLKS AAAAAA

...and it didn't work? oh shit. i'm still very proud of you 3 💙

THIS. THIS RIGHT HERE SAYS SO MANY THINGS.

ok ok first off, the fact that 3 was serious about his apology. For once, doing the right thing only to be rejected. It feels very similar to the YT arc when 3 was doing his own thing with Snitch Productions. Here tho, 4 is affirming 3's actions, approving it. 3 really did good. if it was 4 back in the classic era, 4 might've had a harder time believing 3 bc of them being enemies, which was what eventually caused Snitch Productions to get destroyed and 3 clicking into his villain arc. BUT HERE, 4 believed and trusted 3's sincerity, especially since we all know 3 isn't the usual type to be emotionally vulnerable. 4 knows bc of what 3 said to him in IGBP

second, this might be a dark subject so fair warning about death. can we talk about how 4, time and time again, doesn't mind the idea of dying? I know we talked about the death guidelines of this universe and sure, it entirely depends on the context/intent behind it. But the fact he's ok with it regardless... Here, in IGBP, and other sillier episodes, it's almost like he accepts it as some sort of punishment, just enough bc by what seems like the end for him, he's doing the right thing or something he loved or from his own doing/fault. And that is what i worry bc in a serious arc, sooner or later, something like this is gonna happen again, and 4 might say he accepts this supposed fate bc he "deserved it" after everything he's done, even before IGBP. This got sad real quick, dude

Really, Team? All this in a silly spooky episode? damn

...let's go on and try to go back to silly mode, ok? ok

GET PRANKED, BRUH‼️🚨🚨‼️‼️

*shaking violently* Team, was it necessary for you to shove the fact that the window to the boarded-up room is right there, in my face? really?

and let's not prank Mario ever again :D

Congrats to Not_wizz for your art being featured in the end credits 🎉

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

[Ink here! Sorry for the late review, I literally passed out for the whole day from the conference and immediately had a rough production day yesterday. But I'm here now, coming in fashionably late 💅]

This. This was an INCREDIBLE episode, I don't even know how. The animation, the story, all of it was crazy /very pos. If you haven't noticed my insanity already, this feels too familiar to IGBP (says the co-CEO of the Goop!4 theory). at this point, the Team is teasing us. So Team, while I'm upset at the fact that I had to miss this, touché. congrats, you got me good.

Now, some of you might've noticed in the end credits that Cube is the producer instead of Kevin. For the jokes and giggles, Kev may not make it out alive from Creator Clash when his opponent's out for blood, so he's passing it over to Cube. Even some of the Team joked about it when it was first announced RIP Kev /jk.

But no seriously, Cube has been the producer for several episodes now and it's nice to see the Team growing and trusting each other with these roles. I'm sure Kev will be around but hey, things change. we just gotta adapt.

Ok, back to the episode itself. 3 & 4 have really shown how much they've grown over all these years. Obviously 4, who didn't do "childish" pranks before, now does bc of 3's influence and is really getting along with 3. But 3 went through some change from 4's influence as well, episodes before and "subtlety" now. 3 tried to save his friends in Puzzle Park (more worried of their safety than his own) and now he apologizes for that prank they did to Mario. Like he said, he swallowed his pride, and 4 believed in his word. another step of character development for these two, we love to see it.

and ofc, another episode of our goofball Mario, it's really in-character for him to into a biblically accurate angel just for a prank lol.

Anyway, this has been an incredible episode and I applaud to everyone who worked on this 👏 something's brewing and I'm so excited to see what comes next. Apparently, I owe my moot a can of rizz soda so chat, I'll see you all at the next one, and remember: numbers go first........

...so *slowly turns chair* Team, what's up with that title huh? you ain't slick, "SMG4: IT'S A ME..." is LITERALLY a few words away from "SMG4: IT'S GOTTA BE PERFECT". and HEY, what's up with the framing showing the DOOR, huh? NO i'm not delusional, ANSWER MEEEE /silly

[strangegardendelusion]

Dragon merlin au

In this au, Merlin's frequent use of magic is causing a gradual transformation where he slowly develops dragon like traits (long hair, long teeth, etc..)

While he can manage the physical changes with haircuts and filing his teeth, the psychological impact is far more profound. He's becoming increasingly possessive and restless, exhibiting traits of a dragon guarding its hoard.

"Gaius, I don't understand why I feel so ill," Merlin says, his voice strained.

"Merlin, as a Dragonlord, it's possible you're experiencing hoard sickness," Gaius explains. "Dragons possess hoards of treasure and are fiercely protective of them. When deprived of their hoard, they suffer a debilitating fever until they reclaim it."

"A hoard? What could that be?" Merlin asks, bewildered.

"Think, Merlin. Has anything recently captured your attention or become particularly precious to you?" Gaius inquires.

Merlin struggles to recall, his mind clouded by a growing sense of unease.

As the months pass, Merlin's condition worsens. He struggles to fulfill his duties, his energy waning, and his personality shifting. He becomes short-tempered and withdrawn. The knights, Arthur, Morgana, and Gwen notice his decline, attributing it to a lingering illness. Arthur lessens his chores, and everyone gives him space, unintentionally isolating him further.

One night, the concerned group gathers secretly in Gaius's chambers, defying his orders to leave Merlin undisturbed.

"I can't believe we're doing this," Arthur mutters.

"Arthur," Morgana reassures him. "We're here to see Merlin. Besides, if Gaius catches us, we'll say we had urgent concerns."

"Still, this feels..." Arthur trails off.

"Relax, Princess," Gwaine interjects. "Everything will be fine. Don't pretend you don't miss him."

Suddenly, they hear voices and quickly hide. Merlin emerges, followed by a frustrated Gaius.

"I told you, I'm fine!" Merlin insists, his voice hoarse.

"No, you're not!" Gaius retorts.

"I said I'm fine!" Merlin's eyes flash gold, and a nearby vase shatters.

"It's alright, Merlin," Gaius soothes. "Here, try this new potion."

Merlin drinks the potion, then immediately vomits. "Ugh... I'm so sorry, Gaius. I don't know what's happening to me. It feels like I'm losing my mind."

"It's probably nothing," Gaius says, though his expression is troubled. "You just need rest and medicine."

The group witnesses this unsettling scene, their concern deepening. They realize Merlin's "illness" is far more complex than they ever imagined.

[adventuresofanunrulygirl]

Something I think back on quite often with a lot of resentment is the time when I was 19 and I was dating one of the most toxic men I'd ever met. He was possessive in the extreme, dishonest, emotionally volatile, jealous of anyone who looked at me, and wouldn't let me have male friends. Once he wouldn't let me get out of the car to get away from him until we got into a deserted industrial area where he knew I'd be unsafe; another time he tossed my open purse outside onto the parking lot asphalt and pushed me out of the car when I was about to walk into work, told me I was ugly as I was crying about it, and I called out because I was so humiliated and upset. He told me he owned me and that he wanted to impregnate me so I couldn't leave. There are many other things I could mention but I just want to give an idea of what this man was.

As with all my worst boyfriends, his family hated me. This was a combination of only ever hearing his side of the story when we'd argue, and seeing me, an outsider, constantly in turmoil. People rarely are evolved enough to view the situation objectively, and will just side with whoever they're closest to. So eventually, his grandparents and sister began treating me with contempt, which was bewildering to me.

But the memory that sticks in my craw is this: I went to a Christmas party at his grandparents' house and was surprised that I received $20 as a gift. I was touched and said thank you, and after saying "You're welcome," the grandfather looked at me sternly and said, very slowly, deliberately and for all to hear: "(My name), we only know love in this house." It was said with the air of a warning. I was confused and said something like, "Oh...okay?" But later when I thought it over at home, I thought...

How fucking dare you, you ignorant, gaslighting piece of shit.

You know nothing about love, and neither do your equally judgmental wife, granddaughter, and abusive grandson. Nothing. I have thousands of reasons to feel angry, and each one is justified. Fuck you.

To be abused by a man and then to be treated as *the problem* that way in front of his entire family, and to be essentially told "Unlike you, we're all about love here" because they've seen me upset at being continuously abused by their psychopathic spawn, is a hell of a thing. I don't think I'll ever forget it.

I get worked up by this, but then I take a deep breath and remember: it's only a memory. The reality is that I've been done with that man and his family for almost 20 years, been 4B for about 3 years, and I never need to go back to being mistreated by a man ever again.

[mechanical-sunchild]

I don't deny that a science-based approach is fine for the cases above, but there are many kinds of physical alterhumans with many different beliefs. Not all are making claims of shapeshifting*. Is there really no room for discussion of physical-based alterhumanity as truth of any kind, due to the actions of groups in the past and this 'need' for evidence?

I feel *this is a factor which is repeatedly ignored even when directly brought up. Many of you here seem to have a problem with this specific kind of physical nonhuman - the one who claims they can, have, will etc shapeshift into their true form - and only really talk about them as reason why all physical alterhumans require the same treatment.

But what about those who are not saying they have shapeshifted or can shapeshift?

To go back to an earlier statement. There are trans people who say things like; "I am a woman, therefore I have a woman's body. I am a man, therefore I have a man's body." They are speaking in a possessive sense but saying something about their physical perceptions of self too. Would it not be considered rude to tell them 'well actually, scientifically speaking, you are not what you just said. You are physically not a woman/man but it's fine that you see yourself as one internally'.

I'm sure many trans people have personal stories where their mental health was worse when they also made themselves believe that one day they would just wake up in the right body, but our personal experiences should not be applied to every person who experiences a similar thing.

The metaphor is not exact though, of course. I only call back to it because it was used previously.

But let's think of the physical alterhuman whose entire physical claims are the same.

"I am an android, therefore I have an android's body." as I see myself, in fact. I can't prove to you, I suppose, that this is beneficial to my own mental health and not a negative. I know this is scientifically impossible and not technically 'real' in that sense, but I can't stop the way my internal perceptions of self have influenced how I perceive my body too. Holothere is a world that I choose for myself so I can express this. Shall I just not talk about this aspect of myself because it can't be externally scientifically proven? Shall I just pretend I only feel like an android on a non-physical level for the comfort of others? That feels terribly unfair. Other words for what I feel do not match me.

Let's think of the physical alterhuman who believes they have nonhuman ancestors, and therefore are nonhuman themselves because their DNA is nonhuman.

Yes, this is not scientifically provable and never will be. But it is also based on their specific cultural and/or spiritual beliefs in nonhuman ancestry being possible and what influence that would then have on their own self. It feels rude therefore to assume we have the right to tell them that they are wrong due to 'lack of evidence' -like an atheist demanding proof of God before they'll respect a religious person- and should either refer to their experience by a new name which doesn't make call to the physical difference they internally perceive/believe, or else stop talking about it completely.

Let's think deeper, I've seen physical alterhumans who say they are completely physically their 'type, but a magic spell or glamour is stopping it being detectable, perceivable etc by anyone or anything (including themselves). Yes, this line of belief does have the capacity to become dangerous. But it also has the capacity to be entirely beneficial to that person. We can't assume we know which it will be, but we can provide a community which doesn't cause them to go onto the defensive as people tell them to prove something they believe they cannot prove, based on an spiritual belief in magic. It does not involve blindly believing them, but it does involve allowing for them to express this belief openly without attack. In fact, you will drive more people into the arms of those who may turn this belief into something that harms them if you do.

The same goes for those who just say 'I literally have paws, I literally have a tail.' If this eases their dysphoria, the way a trans man may in fact harmlessly refer to his genitalia as a dick despite not having one yet, then who are we to tell them they're 'being dangerous' and 'need to prove it' before they can be left alone and not constantly be told they don't have these parts 'because science'.

Yes, absolutely monitor this person for signs of spreading the more harmful ideas behind p-shifting and absolutely make posts which guard and warn people about being manipulated into things which harm them. But if you see someone saying 'I literally have paws rn' and you see they don't have clinical zoanthropy and aren't talking about a delusion they're having (both of which should not be reality checked by randoms on the internet) you don't have to believe them but you also don't have to go on their posts and say 'No, you don't and I'm not interested in nor am I going to believe in any of the reasons why you may believe that your hands do in fact count as paws instead'. Or vaguepost about them or their experiences or things you're assuming about physical alterhumans.

On the other hand, and I know some physical alterhumans will hate me for saying this but yeah, our physical experiences are due to some internal perception changing how we view ourselves. It's not 'real' in a sense that the world will ever see it. It's real enough to us for sure, and it's literal to us for sure, but it's not literal or real by the laws of this world. But does it have to be, for us to be able to express it and talk about it that way? Many non-physical alterhumans say things like 'I am literally a wolf' and that's fine and nobody in the community tells them 'no you're not literally a wolf, your mind makes you believe you're a wolf. no you're not literally a wolf, your soul is just a wolves soul' and then makes posts about how annoying, dangerous and misguided people who really believe they're an animal are (the few that do are often kff or similar and not a major issue) with the irony being that our internal perception of self can be very easily manipulated too. Yet we understand that in most cases the person can be believed and trusted without harm!

We can change imperfect language amongst ourselves along the way, but the physical community can't thrive and get to that point of clarity whilst everyone else is being told to not even humour us. In fact, encouraged in a lot of cases to tell us what we believe is simply not real so we should stop talking about it completely. In many other cases, assuming we must be either victims or victims in the making, or the perpetrators of harm.

If you actually just want people to learn from past mistakes, to train themselves to not believe everything they see as true outside of those individuals realities especially if it's particularly wild, I feel we're going the wrong way about it by just telling physical alterhumans that they're wrong about their experiences and shouldn't be calling it 'physical' no matter how physical it feels. I'm also going to link kossai's post here for further reading.

And as a final note - I do hope we're all cool with clinical zoanthropes and endels - and don't believe that they are supposed to provide proof of their shapeshifting before they can express themselves. At the very least can we agree on that?

If you’re going to assert science in a community full of people discussing their scientifically unverifiable experiences I think you should consider what you’re really trying to say. If you’re not trying to call people liars then there’s probably a better way to go about making your point than enumerating the reasons why you think they’re lying.

[nightplvmes]

it's for you

caleb x fem!reader | nsfw, +18, MDNI!—nsfw, explicit content, teasing, metion of masturbation, rubbing | I don't know if I should do a part two but if anyone would like me to post it let me know... likes and reblogs are appreciated :)

She leaned over the sink to soak her face and remove the rest of her makeup. She stood back up to look in the mirror, but let out a gasp when she saw Caleb standing behind her. "You scared me" she murmured. She finished drying her face before continuing with her routine.

"Are you done with your night routine?" he asked, grabbing her hips from behind. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to his body, his chin resting on her nearly bare shoulder.

"Almost there, I was about to..." she stopped abruptly when she felt something hard on her butt. She felt her breathing become heavy, she knew what it meant... She had been teasing Caleb most of the night, with kisses and small touches but nothing more. Now he was there, with his arms around her waist and hard as a rock. "You're... hard," she murmured. She felt Caleb grab her hips again, forcing her to turn around to face him. She could see the look of desire in his eyes, her heart pounding.

Caleb wrapped his hand around hers and slowly guided it to his erection over his clothes. She had her gaze fixed on her hand now on his hard erection, the wetness on her thighs began to increase and she felt like she was in some sort of trance. She looked up as she felt Caleb's breath against her face, he had gotten too close to her. Too close and she loved it. "It's all because of you."

"Caleb," she moaned, feeling her hand press against his erection. He took a step closer to her, she could almost feel the slight desperation radiating of him. She opened her mouth to say something else but he pressed his lips against hers—she gasped in surprise but didn't pull away, letting Caleb's tongue explore her mouth as much as he wanted. He took her by the hips, forcing her to sit on the sink, separated her legs and settled between them.

"You've been teasing me all day," he murmured, she knew him too well to recognize that possessive tone in his voice. "Making my cock hard and you?" He leaned towards her, his breath hitting her face. "You got into the shower, pretending innocence but your moans echoed throughout the apartment." She opened her eyes in surprise and her cheeks turned red... What he said was not a lie. She had touched herself when she was in the shower, she just didn't think Caleb would have heard.

"Caleb-" He cut her off, his hands tightening around her thighs to pull her closer until she felt his erection press against her core. Suddenly she felt the clothes between them so uncomfortable.

"You have a lot to make up for," he murmured, kissing her cheek. She nodded almost desperately, beginning to move her hips against his erection. Caleb growled, pulling her closer to him despite there being no space left between them.

She moaned, throwing her head back. He leaned down to kiss her neck, sucking and biting her hot skin. "I need you, please—ah!" She needed more, she could feel the heat in her body increasing with the passing seconds. She needed Caleb. She felt her sensitive clit throb from the friction, she rubbed herself desperately against him again. If they continued like this for a few more minutes she might be able to...

Caleb suddenly pulled away. She looked at him, confused and waiting for an answer. Her breathing was still heavy, her hair was now slightly disheveled and her panties were soaked. "You have a lot to make up for," he murmured, leaving a kiss on her cheek as he left the bathroom, leaving her sitting on the sink.

She had to blink repeatedly and wait a few seconds to understand what was happening... She had a lot to make up for, Caleb was right. She sighed, her feet touched the ground again and mentally prepared herself for the night of sex that awaited her.