#I knew I wanted to get the solo but wanted to see him play it too and it worked out | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mssishipi · 1 month ago

Text

TASTE OF INDULGENCE

CHAPTER 3 — WHY ARE YOU SO SALTY?

— This was supposed to be just sex—no feelings, no attachments. What happened in bed was meant to stay there. Jake and Jay were perfect together, an undeniably loving couple who had everything. From the very beginning, you were just a third, nothing more. So why does it feel like you’re the only one left out? Fuck, why are you salty?

content tags: fluff and fluff and angst, sunoo being annoyed at jayke for always stealing reader away from him, one kys joke, reader is falling in love, jayke being soft, don't expect romance in this chapter bcs it's angst, still they have fluff, some other people cameo (that you might be missing since chap 1).

warning: explicit content (smut), threesome (soft dom jake, soft dom jay, sub reader), but they kind of have solo moments, multiple sex position, unprotected vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, nipple play, overstimulation, cunnilingus, rimming, anal fingering, protected anal sex (fxm), attempt of double penetration, blowjob, ofc sum mxm scene. MDNI! WC:15.1K

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notes: thank you for the 1k followers! i better not see any of you hating on my girl y/n.

So this is what it feels like.

The kind of thing your friends always gushed about—their whispers about how addicting it was, how they couldn't get enough. You never really got it. Until now. You didn't know exactly how long it had been going on. A month? Maybe more?

At some point, it became a routine, an unspoken agreement between the three of you. Sex, always sex. Even with classes, even with assignments piling up, there were moments where the three of you just couldn't help yourselves.

Your weekends are always ending up in their sheets. There were times when you swore you'd go a few days without it—focus, be responsible. But the second one of them (always Jake) pulled you close, hands roaming, lips brushing against your skin, you already knew how it would end.

Your schedules were never fully in sync. Different classes, different obligations. But somehow, you always found a way.

Because it was sex. And none of you could seem to stop.

"Shit, slow down!" Jay hissed through gritted teeth, his fingers digging into your waist in a futile attempt to slow your relentless pace. But you didn't listen, the pleasure was too consuming, and all you could do was keep moving, keep chasing that euphoric high as you bounced on top of him.

Your moans spilled freely, the sound only making Jay groan beneath you. Behind you, Jake was grinning against your shoulder, completely entertained by the display in front of him. His hands were on your breasts, kneading them, rolling your sensitive nipples between his fingers as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear.

"Come on, tell him, baby," he murmured.

You gasped, your hips faltering for a brief moment before sheer need pushed you forward again, rolling, grinding against Jay in slow, deliberate circles.

You could feel how much he was holding back—the way his fingers flexed against your skin, the restraint in his muscles as he tried to keep himself from flipping you over and taking control.

Jay's brows furrowed, his lips parted as he breathed heavily beneath you. You bit your lip, eyes locked onto his as you let the words tumble out with a needy tone. "M-my p-pussy is so empty, p-please fill it up," you whined.

Jake let out a low whistle beside you. "There it is," he mused, watching the way Jay's entire demeanor shifted. His muscles tensed, his fingers twitched against your skin, and his expression darkened in the most delicious way.

Jay growled, his grip tightening before suddenly yanking you down, forcing you to take him deeper, bottoming out inside you in one swift, punishing motion. You choked on a moan, your walls spasming around him at the sudden stretch.

Jake was right—Jay loved that kind of talk.

"T-there—hah, oh my God! Ahh!" You practically screamed, your hands clawing at Jay's arms as he manhandled you, flipping you onto your back in one smooth motion.

You barely had time to process before he was already moving again, pounding into you with a force that made your head spin.

The sheets twisted beneath you, your fingers gripping the fabric for some semblance of control, but it was useless. You were completely at their mercy, exactly where they wanted you.

Jake chuckled, watching the way your body jolted with every deep thrust before settling himself beside you, propping himself up on one elbow. His mouth found your neck first, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your heated skin, trailing lower and lower until his lips wrapped around one of your nipples, sucking eagerly.

Your eyes rolled back, a fresh wave of pleasure crashing over you.

For years, you had imagined something like this.

You'd seen it in porn, fantasized about the intensity of two mouths, two cocks, hands everywhere, pleasure heightened beyond what you thought possible. You used to ache with frustration, wondering if you'd ever experience what those girls did—the kind of overwhelming, mind-numbing pleasure that left them ruined, wrecked, completely undone.

You'd sometimes cried, wondering if maybe there was something wrong with you, why no one else had ever made you feel this.

Now, you were drowning in it, every nerve in your body is alive, buzzing, and electrified with sensation. Years of frustration are now it all poured out of you, swallowed whole by them.

And God, you loved every second of it. It felt endless, like they were making up for every second of deprivation, stretching time itself just to ruin you over and over again.

Jay let out a ragged growl, his grip on your thighs tightening as his thrusts became deeper. "Shit, I'm fucking cumming."

Beside you, Jake pulled away from your nipple, his mouth swollen and glistening as he turned to Jay. Without hesitation, he grabbed the back of Jay's neck and kissed him.

You watched as their tongues slid together, swallowing each other's moans. The sight sent a fresh pulse of heat through you, a sharp ace blooming deep inside your core.

Your fingers twitched, then grasped at Jake's arm, a mindless, needy tug. Include me.

Jake felt it immediately, breaking the kiss just enough to glance at you, his lips curling into a knowing smile. "Feeling left out, baby?"

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a messy, open-mouthed kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth. His teeth grazed your lower lip before sucking it into his mouth, making you shudder.

Jay's hands slid over your stomach, his palms warm as he moved up—brushing over your ribs, cupping your breasts, kneading them firmly. His thumbs flicked over your nipples, coaxing a breathless moan from your lips as your head fell back against the pillows.

Jake pulled away just in time to see the way your body arched into Jay's touch, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.

A sudden, sharp thrust pulled your focus back to Jay. Your eyes snapped open, locking onto his dark, intense gaze. His grip on your breast tightened as he drove into you with slow, full strokes.

"Say it again," Jay growled. His thrusts grew sharper, rocking your body with every movement.

A whimper slipped from your lips, your hands flying to his wrists, gripping them for balance. Your mind felt hazy, drunk on the pleasure flooding your senses.

Without thinking, your other hand drifted to Jake's cock, fingers wrapping around his length. He was so hard, twitching in your grasp. A satisfied hum rumbled from his chest as you stroked him, your fingers tightening, gliding in slow motions.

Jake exhaled a sharp breath, his head tilting back slightly. When he looked at you again, his eyes were heavy-lidded, his lips parted in a lazy, pleased smile. He guided your hand along his length, showing you exactly how he liked it.

"Come on, baby," Jake murmured, voice velvety. "Say it again, hmm?"

Your breath hitched. You hesitated for a moment, cheeks flushing, because you weren't usually the type to talk during sex. It wasn't something you were used to.

But with the way they were looking at you, waiting, and starving for it. You bit your lip, gaze flickering between them, before finally whispering:

"U-use me 'til you c-cum. F-fill me, please."

A deep groan tore from Jay's throat, while Jake hissed, his grip on your hand tightening as his cock twitched in your palm.

You were practically screaming at this point. Everything was too much, too good—you could hardly believe this was your life now, wrapped up between them, drowning in sensations you'd never thought you'd get to experience.

You could feel every inch of Jay stretching you, filling you so completely, his deep, steady thrusts hitting on your g-spot inside you over and over again.

"F-fuck, I'm gonna cum—oh, shit." Jay moaned, his head tilting back, his jaw clenching. His fingers dug into your thighs as he held you still, feeling the way your walls squeezed around him, gripping him.

Jake pulled away from your hand while Jay straightened his back, adjusting his position, his grip shifting to your legs. Without warning, he pushed them further apart, spreading you wider, sinking even deeper inside you. A ragged cry ripped from your throat, your hands flying to his forearms.

You are catching your breath until you felt a warm breath ghosting over your swollen clit.

Your stomach tightened, and your entire body jerked when you felt the first slow, deliberate flick of his tongue against your clit. Your back arched off the bed, toes curling as he licked a long, slow stripe over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Oh my God!" you gasped, your fingers fisting the sheets, your head tossing to the side.

Jake hummed against you, the vibration shooting straight through your core. "She's so sensitive," he murmured, lips brushing against your slick heat.

Jay exhaled harshly, his fingers flexing on your thighs as he fought for control. His cock twitched inside you, the added stimulation pushing him dangerously close to the edge.

"You're such a tease," Jay gritted out, his hips snapping forward, driving into you harder.

Jake just grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief as he flattened his tongue against your clit, sucking gently.

Your vision blurred, the world around you dissolving into nothing but pure, white-hot pleasure. Every muscle in your body locked up, your back arching off the bed as the orgasm crashed through you. Your walls clamped down around Jay, squeezing him so tightly that his rhythm stuttered, his breath hitching in his throat.

The sudden, hot rush of his release spilling deep inside you, filling you up completely. Jay let out a ragged groan, his fingers bruising against your thighs as he slammed himself deep one last time, grinding into you as he rode out his high.

The pleasure had hit so fast, so hard, that your body collapsed under the weight of it. Your mind went blank, your limbs limp, but before you could fully sink into the overwhelming sensation, Jake was suddenly there—moving swiftly, his hands gripping your arms, steadying you. "Whoa, baby—breathe," he murmured, His lips brushed over your temple as Jay's hips gave one last, weak thrust, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths.

"Fuck," Jay exhaled, his grip finally loosening, hands sliding over your trembling thighs before he slumped forward, his forehead pressing against your shoulder.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly, each breath is shaky as you tried to steady yourself, the aftershocks still lingering in your body. Your legs trembled, muscles twitching from the overwhelming sensation that still buzzed through you.

Suddenly, Jay's nose brushed against the curve of your neck as he nuzzled closer, his body relaxing against yours. The intimate gesture sent a soft, unexpected warmth blooming in your chest. While Jake's fingers lacing with yours, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your hand.

"You're okay?" Jake's voice was softer than usual, his fingers traced idle patterns on your wrist.

You blinked up at him, your mind still sluggish. You felt too much all at once—the lingering warmth of their bodies pressed against yours, the way Jay's breath ghosted over your skin and the soft ache between your thighs. And there was something else that is more deeper and unsettling.

They always did these small, tender touches that shouldn't mean anything, yet somehow felt like they did.

Of course, you liked it, but in the back of your mind, it was too much, too good like a dream you'd eventually have to wake up from.

"Shower?" Jay offered, you blinked up at him before glancing at Jake, who was still hard. He caught your gaze, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips before he leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your mouth.

"It's okay," he murmured against your lips. "I'm sure you're tired already."

Tired? That was an understatement. Still, you hesitated, looking between the two of them because the thought of just leaving him like that made your chest tight.

You swallowed, "I can still..."

Jake huffed out a soft laugh, cutting you off with another kiss, this one slower, more indulgent, and when he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours.

"Not tonight, baby," he murmured, his fingers trailing lightly down your arm. "You'll be sore enough as it is."

He wasn't wrong. You could already feel the dull ache settling into your muscles.

Jay shifted beside you, sitting up, rubbing a hand over his face before leaning down to press a soft kiss to your shoulder. "Come on," he murmured. "Let's get you cleaned up."

You exhaled shakily, allowing Jay to pull you up. Jake stretched, letting out a low groan before reluctantly rolling off the bed.

As Jay led you toward the bathroom, you cast one last glance at Jake, watching as he lazily stroked himself, smirking as he caught you staring.

"Go on," he teased, "I'll take care of myself."

Jay scooped you up, carrying you toward the bathroom. Your body felt weightless in his arms as the exhaustion settling deep in your bones.

The shower was already running, steam curling into the air. Instead of stepping directly under the spray, Jay lowered you into the bathtub, letting the warm water lap at your skin. The moment you sank into it, your body melted further, muscles loosening as the heat surrounded you.

You exhaled, head resting back against the tub's edge, eyes fluttering shut. The water rose higher, enveloping you completely, and for a moment, it felt like you could drift off right then and there.

Jake followed after not too long, he stepped into the tub behind you, his legs bracketing yours as he pulled you back against his chest.

Jay was still outside the tub, kneeling beside it. His hands dipped into the water, fingers skimming along your legs before reaching for the soap. The way he lathered it in his hands was deliberate, slow, before he started gliding his palms over your arms, your shoulders—so gentle, so careful.

Jake hummed against your ear, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. "Relax," he murmured, his hands moving to rest on your waist beneath the water. "Just let us take care of you."

The intimacy of it all was overwhelming. This was new, too new. It wasn't just the sex, it was everything that came after. It was the quiet moments, it was the way they touched you, cared for you.

And you were just now realizing how dangerously comfortable you were becoming with it.

Without thinking, you shifted, turning into Jake's embrace. Your arms slid around his torso, pressing yourself against him, skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat. Feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Jake stilled for a second, as if caught off guard. Then, slowly, he let out a soft exhale, his arms tightening around you. His chin rested against the top of your head, fingers tracing along your back beneath the water.

A quiet understanding passed between Jay and Jake as their eyes met over your shoulder. Jay's lips twitched into a soft smile before he reached forward, his palm smoothing over your back, working the tension from your muscles as he poured warm water down your spine.

The sensation made you hum in response, your body sinking further into Jake's hold, lulled by the quiet care surrounding you.

The three of you slipped into the lecture hall, noticeably late. You kept your head down, fingers fumbling to smooth your hair as you hurried toward your usual seat while Jay and Jake trailed behind you.

Sunoo huffed the moment you slid into the chair beside him. With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, he snatched up the things he'd left on the seat that is clearly meant to reserve it for you.

"Seriously?" he muttered under his breath, shoving his notebook into his bag.

Before you could respond, Jake tugged at the hem of your uniform, leaning in. "Hey, there are three open seats at the back," he murmured, nodding toward the empty row.

You glanced between him and Sunoo, lips parting slightly in hesitation. Sunoo tsked, shifting in his chair dramatically as if to make a point.

You gave Jake a small, apologetic smile before turning back to face the front. He exhaled through his nose, but didn't push it. Jay, as usual, said nothing, simply sliding into the seat behind you.

The lecture dragged on, your mind only half-focused as you felt the occasional tap of Jake's pen against the back of your chair. When class finally ended, Sunoo wasted no time, grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward the open field outside.

The two of you had spent too much time here during your vacant periods—lying on the grass, complaining about classes, escaping from whatever responsibilities you didn't feel like dealing with.

Sunoo sat down first with a grunt, motioning for you to join him. As soon as you did, he reached out, fixing the slightly crooked knot of your necktie with a pout.

"You're spending way too much time with them," he muttered. You opened your mouth to argue, but Sunoo was already pouting dramatically, arms crossed over his chest.

"Am I not your favorite gay best friend anymore?" he whined, tilting his head with exaggerated sadness.

A laugh bubbled from your lips despite yourself. "You're being ridiculous," you teased, nudging his leg with your knee.

"I'm being neglected," he insisted, flopping back onto the grass. "I'm being abandoned. Replaced."

"You are so dramatic."

Sunoo huffed, turning his head to squint at you. "Seriously, though. You've been with them nonstop lately. I get it, okay? They're hot and good at—" He made a vague gesture with his hands. "—stuff. But what about me? We used to be inseparable."

Your smile faltered slightly. You knew Sunoo wasn't actually mad, but there was something genuine beneath his usual theatrics.

"I know," you admitted, lowering your gaze. "It's just... different with them. I don't know how to explain it."

Sunoo propped himself up on his elbows. "Try me."

You hesitated because how could you put it into words?

Sunoo watched your expression carefully, then sighed. "Look, I just don't want you getting hurt. They're... well..." Sunoo stop what he was about to say, you just looked at him, waiting for him to continue.

Sunoo softened. "I'm not saying stop. Just... don't lose yourself in it, okay?"

You swallowed, feeling an odd tightness in your chest. "I won't," you promised.

Sunoo stared at you for another second before sighing and sitting up fully. Then, with a sly grin, he poked your cheek. "Now, tell me the dirty details. Who's better?"

"Sunoo!"

"What? Best friends share everything!"

You told yourself it wasn't a big deal.

Whatever you were feeling—it was just because this was new, unfamiliar. You weren't used to it yet, that's all. It wasn't something deeper.

Just go with the flow.

Besides, Sunoo hugged you all the time, kissed your hair, looped his arm through yours without a second thought. Affection didn't have to mean anything complicated.

These past few days, you'd been keeping a little distance, limiting how much time you spent with them. Not because you didn't want to be around them, but because you didn't want to get used to this feeling.

And, you didn't want Sunoo to think you were replacing him. He was your best friend—your super best friend, as he liked to remind you. No one could ever take his place.

"Let's go! We're going to Burger King!" Sunoo declared, tugging your arm dramatically.

You barely had a second to react before Jake's arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you against his chest. A startled squeal left your lips as your feet nearly lifted off the ground.

"She already said yes when I asked her for shawarma," Jake argued, his grip tightening, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he spoke.

You twisted between them, eyes flicking back and forth. Sunoo glared at Jake and Jake smirked at Sunoo.

Sunoo narrowed his eyes, gripping your arm tighter. "Shawarma? Seriously? That's so basic. She's getting a burger."

Jake scoffed, his arms still locked around your waist. "She literally loves shawarma. And, unlike you, I asked first."

"Oh, so now we're keeping track of who asks first?" Sunoo shot back, voice dripping with mockery. "That's cute, Jake. Real cute."

You groaned, twisting between them. "Guys—"

"Nope." Sunoo cut you off, yanking you toward him. "Burger."

Jake pulled you right back against his chest. "Shawarma."

Jay sighed, barely looking up from his phone as your body jerked between Jake and Sunoo's relentless tug-of-war.

"She's coming with us!" Jake huffed, tightening his grip on your waist.

Sunoo scoffed, yanking your arm in the opposite direction. "Excuse me?! I had her first!"

Jake let out a mocking gasp. "Oh, so now we're keeping track of who had her first?" He stuck his tongue out at Sunoo.

Sunoo placed a hand over his chest. "We are super best friends! Inseparable! Back in high school, everyone said we were like a total package. Where I go, she goes."

Jake rolled his eyes. "Dude, you sound like a clingy ex."

Sunoo gasped, absolutely scandalized. "I do not—"

Before he could finish, Jay suddenly reached out, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you toward him.

"Enough," he muttered, slipping his phone into his pocket. He started walking, his fingers laced through yours to keep you from being stolen again.

"Wha—? Where are you taking her?!" Sunoo yelped.

Jay didn't even glance back. "Away from you two idiots."

Jake let out a low whistle, crossing his arms. "Damn. Kinda hot."

Sunoo scowled. "You would say that."

Meanwhile, your brain short-circuited as you stared down at Jay's hand in yours, warmth spreading from your fingertips all the way up to your face. Jake and Sunoo trailed after you, still bickering over who got to walk beside you, tugging at your sleeves and elbowing each other like children.

Jay let out a sharp exhale, clearly losing patience. Without a word, he shifted his grip, draping an arm firmly around your shoulders and pulling you flush against his side.

Sunoo cross his arms and huffed dramatically. "This is favoritism."

Jay shot them both a deadpan look. "Shut up."

In the end, none of the arguing mattered. The four of you ended up crammed into a booth at a Chinese restaurant, chopsticks clinking against bowls as you all shared food between bites of conversation.

Sunoo still sulked. Jake kept stealing food from your plate. And Jay, despite his earlier scowl, just kept filling your bowl with more dumplings.

The weekend arrived, and Jay had texted, asking you to hang out. At the same time, Sunoo and Wonyoung had invited you to go figure skating.

Torn between the two, you decided to make the most of your day, texting Jay that you'd come by in the evening, not wanting to miss out on time with your friends.

By the time you stepped out of the taxi in front of Jay's apartment, your legs were sore and aching, exhaustion creeping into your muscles from hours on the ice. You barely had time to lift your hand to knock before the door swung open.

Jake stood there, his eyes instantly lighting up at the sight of you. His sweet smile stretched wide before he reached forward, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you inside.

"Finally," he breathed, his grip warm and firm as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

A giggle escaped your lips as he pressed a trail of playful, affectionate kisses along your jaw, down to your neck. Your stomach fluttered—there it was again, that strange, uncontrollable feeling. The way your heart pounded just a little too hard.

"Missed you, missed you," Jake whined softly, his cheek brushing against yours as he held you impossibly closer.

You laughed, shaking your head as your fingers absentmindedly traced patterns against Jake's back. "We literally ate at the Chinese restaurant three days ago," you reminded him.

Jake only whined in response, rocking the both of you side to side like a sulking child. He lifted his head, lower lip jutted out in the most exaggerated pout, eyes big and pleading.

"Yeah, but Sunoo was there," he complained, brows furrowing. "I wanna spend more time with you—just me, you, and Jay."

His words sent a strange little jolt through you, warm curling in your stomach.

"You didn't even text that much today," he muttered, his pout deepening.

You laughed, shaking your head. "I was with Sunoo and Wonyoung, you know that."

Jake huffed dramatically. "Still. I need my daily dose of you."

His words sent another jolt through you, curling around your ribs like a slow-burning ember. You tried to play it off, focusing on how ridiculously cute he looked instead of the way your pulse picked up speed.

"You're such a baby," you teased, reaching up to pinch his cheeks between your fingers. His skin was warm under your touch, and when he scrunched his nose in response, it only made your heart pound harder.

"Am not," he grumbled, though he made no effort to pull away. If anything, he leaned into your touch. His eyes flickered over your face, studying you for a second before his lips curled into a grin. "But if I were a baby, I'd be your favorite, right?"

Before you could answer, a voice cut through the moment. "You're blocking the door," Jay said flatly, standing a few feet away with his arms crossed, watching the two of you.

Jake didn't let go immediately. Instead, he smirked and tightened his arms around you one last time, swaying you both dramatically before finally pulling back. "She's mine for the next hour," Jake announced proudly.

Jay rolled his eyes. "You literally saw her three days ago."

"And it felt like years," Jake shot back, dragging you toward the living room.

The movie flickered on the screen, but it had long since become nothing more than background noise. You and Jake were supposed to be watching it together—Jay had opted out, choosing to focus on his classwork instead, not wanting to procrastinate. But somewhere along the way, Jake's hand had found its way to your thigh, stroking absently as if he wasn't really thinking about it.

At first, it was innocent. Just a casual touch. But then his fingers started moving, kneading softly, tracing small circles against your skin, his fingertips creeping higher with each pass.

Your breath caught. You shifted slightly, adjusting your position, but your legs instinctively parted. You didn't even realize you were doing it until Jake let out a quiet chuckle.

"Look at that," he murmured, his fingers ghosting over your clothed heat. "Already opening up for me?"

Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, body sinking into the couch as he teased you. The touch was light, barely there, but enough to set a slow burn deep in your stomach.

His fingers pressed down, rubbing slow, lazy circles through the fabric of your shorts. Your breath came out in a shaky exhale, hips lifting ever so slightly, chasing more friction.

"You're so warm," he mused, his voice dipping lower, more hushed. "And already so wet."

You nodded weakly, your thoughts scattering as his fingers slipped under the waistband of your shorts, brushing against your bare skin. A quiet moan slipped past your lips.

"You know," you breathed between soft gasps, "I still can't believe I'm experiencing this."

Jake hummed, his lips trailing along the side of your neck. "Oh? And why's that?"

Your fingers twitched against the couch, gripping the fabric as he slid a finger between your folds. The touch was electric, sending pleasure zipping up your spine.

"I never really enjoyed sex before," you said, gasping when he pressed against your clit just right. "It's... shocking, I guess. That you and Jay just know exactly how to—fuck—please me."

Jake smirked, his lips curling against your skin. "Mmm, keep talking, baby," he whispered.

Your breath hitched as his fingers moved with deliberate skill, teasing and stroking in just the right way. Your thighs trembled, your body completely pliant under his touch.

"I-it's like—oh, shit, shit, right there, Jake—it's like my body just picked only the two of you."

Jake groaned, his fingers pressed deeper, circling with the perfect amount of pressure. He pulled back just enough to look at you. "Damn right it did," he murmured. "Your body will only listen to us."

Jake shifted his position, settling more comfortably between your legs. His free hand tugged at the hem of your shirt, pushing it up to your collarbone, baring your chest to the cool air.

You didn't wait, you unclasped your bra in a rush. Jake's lips curled into a smirk, his breath warm against your skin.

"You like it more when your left breast gets attention, don't you?" His voice was teasing, but he didn't wait for an answer.

The second his mouth latched onto your left mound, a whimper tore from your throat. His tongue flicked over the sensitive peak, lips closing around it as he sucked just hard enough to make your back arch off the couch.

"Hah—fuck, Jake," you moaned, your back arching off the couch as his fingers pumped deeper.

Jake chuckled against your flushed skin. "Jay was right," he murmured, pulling back just enough to blow cool air over your wet nipple, making it pebble even harder. His fingers didn't slow between your legs, pressing deep, curling just right. "You always react more when we do this."

To prove his point, he dragged his teeth lightly over the stiff peak, making you jolt, a breathless gasp escaping your lips. Then, his mouth closed around it again, sucking hard enough to make your toes curl. His free hand found your other breast, rolling and pinching your neglected nipple between his fingers, the combination of sensations making your head spin.

Your body was melting under his touch, too sensitive. Every flick of his tongue, every slow, deliberate stroke of his fingers inside you. It was too much and not enough all at once.

Your hands flew to his hair, gripping at the soft strands, trying to anchor yourself as you rocked against his hand. The wet sounds of his fingers moving in and out of you mixed with the low hum of pleasure vibrating from his throat.

"Jake—Jake, I'm—" You barely managed to get the words out. You could feel it, that familiar, intoxicating build-up, your walls clenching tight around his fingers.

Jake groaned, feeling the way you squeezed him. "Oh, you love that, don't you?" he mused. "Knowing we talk about you? Knowing we know exactly what makes you fall apart?"

His words sent a new wave of arousal crashing through you. The idea of Jay and Jake discussing you like this, learning every single detail of your body, what you liked, what drove you insane—it made your core throb even harder.

Jake pulled back to look at you, lips swollen, pupils blown wide with lust. He didn't stop, fingers pressing deeper, fucking into you at a steady, teasing pace. "Bet you'd love to hear what else we say about you, huh?" he murmured, grinning as he watched your breath hitch.

Jake pushed himself up, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

"We would love to fuck that ass."

A raw moan spilling from your lips, your grip on his hair tightened as your body tensed. A rush of heat pooled in your stomach, pleasure snapping so fast and sharp that your hips bucked against his hand, thighs shaking as your orgasm crashed over you.

"Oh my God, Jake!" you gasped, clenching hard around his fingers, your body twitching, desperate to hold onto the overwhelming pleasure for just a little longer.

Jake groaned, his free hand smoothing over your thigh, gripping it possessively as he worked you through your high. "Woah, that's it." he murmured. "Came so fast just from that, huh? You love the idea, don't you?"

You swallowed, still catching your breath, your body limp against the couch. Jake pulled his fingers from you slowly, watching the way your slick coated them, shining in the dim light.

He brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a hum of satisfaction. "Fuck," he sighed, grinning as he met your dazed, fucked-out gaze.

"Y-You're going to f-fuck my butt?"

Jake's grin widened, his cock twitching inside his pajama pants at how wrecked you sounded. Instead of answering right away, he leaned in, pressing a soft, teasing kiss to your lips.

"Only if you want to," he murmured.

You didn't even hesitate, eyes wide and desperate when you looked at him. "I want to."

Jake inhaled sharply, his grip on your thigh tightening for a second before he let out a low chuckle. "Fuck, yeah."

His cock throbbed at just the thought, but he forced himself to pull back, exhaling through his nose to keep control.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up first." Jake scooped you up, carrying you toward the bathroom on the first floor. The moment he set you down, he was already moving, grabbing the necessary supplies, turning on the faucet, letting warm water fill the sink.

You sat on the closed toilet seat, face already burning in embarrassment as you watched him prepare. "I can do it myself, you know."

Jake only smirked, kneeling in front of you. "I know, but where's the fun in that?"

A whimper lodged in your throat when he gently guided you to stand, then turned you to face the counter. His hands slid down your waist, his touch is careful as he spread your ass apart, exposing both your soaked cunt and your tight, clenching hole.

You let out a choked sound, immediately covering your face with your hands.

Jake chuckled at your reaction, pressing a warm, open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder. "Don't be shy, baby," he murmured, "I'm gonna eat this later, you know."

Your breath hitched, fingers gripping the edge of the counter, anticipation coiling in your stomach despite the embarrassment flooding your face.

Then the douche touched your hole. You sucked in a sharp breath, instinctively tensing, but Jake was already there, his lips trailing soft kisses along your shoulder, his free hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back.

"Relax," he cooed, his voice low and patient. "Anus muscles are naturally good at sucking, so don't worry about the water coming in. It won't feel as weird as you think."

Jake squeezed your hip reassuringly before continuing, "I'm gonna let the water stay inside for a few seconds. It'll feel uncomfortable, but it's totally bearable, okay?"

You exhaled shakily, nodding, trusting him completely.

Jake smiled against your skin, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Good girl."

Your body shuddered at his praise, the tension in your shoulders melting ever so slightly. Jake kept his hand steady on your back, his fingers tracing light patterns to keep you relaxed as he slowly let the water flow in.

A strange pressure built inside you, foreign and mildly uncomfortable, but not unbearable. You whined softly, shifting on your feet, and Jake leaned in, his lips brushing your ear.

"Breathe through it," he murmured, "just a few more seconds, baby."

You focused on his touch, on the slow rise and fall of his chest against your back. When he finally let the water out, a strange relief washed over you, making you sigh.

"See? Not so bad, huh?" Jake grinned, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck.

You nodded, still feeling a bit shy about the whole process. "It's... weird."

Jake chuckled, squeezing your waist. "Yeah, first time always is. But you're doing so good for me."

His words made your stomach flutter. It was stupid, the way something as simple as that made warmth spread through your chest.

"One more time, okay?" Jake said. "Then you'll be all clean for us."

Your breath caught in your throat at the implication—for us.

"I'll be the first, alright? Get you nice and used to it."

You whimpered at his words, thighs pressing together as heat surged through you. Jake chuckled, noticing your reaction.

"Then, when you're ready," he continued, "we'll take you together."

A gasp left your lips as he nipped at your ear. "I'll be in your pussy, stretching you open while Jay fills up this tight little hole."

Your knees nearly buckled, a whine escaping you as you pressed your forehead against the cool tile. The images flashing through your mind—Jake stretching you open, Jay filling you from behind. It felt surreal, like stepping into one of your deepest, filthiest fantasies. The kind you'd only ever dreamed about. But this was real. This was happening.

Your pussy clenched involuntarily, already aching for more.

Once he finished helping you clean up, you turned to face him, hands gripping his shoulders as you pulled him down into a heated kiss. It wasn't soft or slow, it was desperate and needy. Your hands roamed his chest, nails dragging lightly over his skin as his tongue slid against yours.

Jake's hands found their way to your ass, gripping firmly as he hoisted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, locking him in place as your lips remained fused in a messy, heated kiss.

He carried you effortlessly up the stairs, his fingers kneading your flesh. You barely registered the moment when he pushed the bedroom door open, until you caught sight of Jay.

Jay was seated at his desk, head tilted slightly downward, pen gliding across the pages of his binder notebook. The only acknowledgment he gave was a brief sigh as he adjusted the volume of his headset, as if this was nothing new to him.

You swallowed, glancing at Jay's back, hesitating. "I think we're going to disturb him," you murmured quietly.

Jake only laughed, his fingers teasing along the curve of your waist. "Ignore him," he whispered, "We're going to have so much fun."

His hands traveled upward, kneading your breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples. "All fours, baby. Arch your back."

Without thinking, you obeyed. Your knees pressed into the mattress, hands sinking into the sheets as you positioned yourself. You peeked over your shoulder, stealing another glance at Jay. He was still writing, pen moving in smooth, deliberate strokes, seemingly unaffected.

"He's not going to join?" you asked.

Jake smirked, running a hand down your spine, pressing at the small of your back to deepen the arch. "Patience," he murmured. "You know how Jay is. He'll join us later."

Jake reached for the drawer beside the bed, pulling out a bottle of lube. Both of you were already bare against the sheets, Jake wasted no time positioning himself behind you, his hands spreading your ass apart as he dipped his head down.

The first swipe of his tongue over your soaked folds made you gasp, your fingers curling into the sheets. "Fuck," he groaned, voice muffled against your skin. "Always so sweet."

Your eyes fluttered shut as you let yourself sink into the sensation, a breathy sigh slipping past your lips as you rocked back against his mouth.

Jake tilted his head, pressing his tongue deeper, swirling it inside you before dragging it back up. Then, he started kissing your pussy—deep, wet kisses, his tongue flicking against your clit before sliding up again.

A quiet moan escaped you, but even through the haze of pleasure, you were still aware of Jay sitting at his desk just a few feet away. You bit your lip, trying to stifle the sounds threatening to spill out, not wanting to disturb him. Even though, really, what you were doing behind him was distracting enough.

"I'm going to eat this little ass, okay?" Jake murmured. Your breath hitched, his hands smoothed over your back, a silent reassurance. "Hey, relax," he soothed, pressing a kiss to the base of your spine.

The moment his tongue flicked against your other hole, a sharp whimper tore from your lips. Your grip on the sheets tightened as your body jolted at the unfamiliar sensation. It was strange, but the way Jake's free hand slid between your legs to rub slow, deliberate circles over your clit sent waves of pleasure crashing over the discomfort.

And when Jake's tongue breached your hole, a sharp, uncontrollable moan ripped from your throat. The sensation was nothing like you had expected. It was hot, wet, and utterly overwhelming.

Jake let out a low laugh. "Didn't expect to like it this much, huh?" he teased before delivering a sharp slap to your pussy. You yelped, your hips jerking at the sudden sting, only for the warmth of his tongue to soothe it a moment later.

He moved effortlessly between your holes, one moment pressing into your ass, the next licking a slow, filthy stripe down to your dripping cunt. He groaned against you, savoring the way your body practically fed him, his tongue eagerly lapping up everything.

You turned your head, eyes seeking out Jay, still hunched over his notebook, pen moving steadily across the page as if nothing was happening behind him. The sight made you feel frustrated, a desperate whine escaping your lips.

"J-Jay..." you whimpered, arching your back even more, hoping and begging for him to at least look.

Jake chuckled against your skin, his tongue flicking over your clit before he pulled back, lips glistening. "Aww, baby wants his attention?" he teased, pressing a soft kiss to your butt cheeks.

Your fingers twisted into the sheets, body trembling as Jake's hand came down to knead your ass. "Don't worry," he murmured. "He'll break soon. He always does."

"For now, pay attention to me, hmm?" His voice was so as his hands gliding over your skin . "I'm going to insert a finger. Okay?"

You took a deep breath, and Jake pressed another kiss to your lower back. "Breathe for me, there you go," he murmured as his slicked-up finger traced the tight ring of muscle, teasing but not pushing in just yet.

You whined softly, your body instinctively tensing again. Jake immediately noticed and stopped, pressing more soft kisses against your skin. "I won't rush you," he reassured, his tone filled with patience. "Just focus on how good it feels, okay?"

He flattened his tongue against your entrance again, massaging the sensitive skin with slow licks, easing you into the sensation. It was strange and unfamiliar—but paired with his mouth, it felt... good. Slowly, your muscles began to relax, your body responding to his careful attention.

Only when he felt you melt against him did he ease his finger inside, pushing in barely an inch before stopping. "Still good, baby?" he asked, pausing to gauge your reaction.

You let out a shaky breath, nodding against the sheets. "Y-Yeah... feels weird, but... good."

Jake grinned, "good girl. You're doing so well."

Behind you, Jay finally let out a quiet sigh, the sound barely audible over your heavy breathing. You turned your head slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of him. Though he was still pretending to focus on his notebook, the way he gripped his pen a little too tightly told you everything.

Jake's fingers pressed deeper, slick with lube, stretching you open with slow, careful movements. His cock twitched at the sight of your arched back, the way your ass framed the tight ring of muscle he was working open. He exhaled harshly through his nose, visibly restraining himself from rushing, from giving in to his own desperation.

"You're doing so good, baby," he murmured. Your breath hitched when he added another finger, scissoring you open, teasing the tight heat. It felt strange, but Jake was patient, never pushing too far.

When he was sure you were as ready as you could be, he pulled away slightly, fumbling with the condom, his hands unsteady. He sheathed himself quickly, then positioned himself behind you, his chest pressing flush against your back as he kissed your shoulder.

"I'll go slow," he whispered, one arm wrapping around your waist while the other guided himself to your entrance.

The first press of his cock made you whimper. Jake immediately hushed you, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"Relax, baby," he soothed, his hands moving to cup your breasts, kneading them gently. "Breathe for me, nice and slow."

Despite his best efforts to take it easy, you could hear his breath hitch, feel his thighs tremble as he pushed forward inch by inch. He was trying—really trying—not to just snap his hips forward and bury himself fully inside you.

Behind you, the scrape of a chair echoed through the room, followed by the shift of the mattress. You felt Jay's presence right beside you. When you turned your head, you found him sitting on the bed, jaw tight, eyes locked onto the place where Jake was slowly stretching you open.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Jake groaned, his voice almost breaking. "Feels so fucking good, baby—ahh—"

Before he could move any further, Jay's voice cut through. "Don't move yet."

Jake let out a frustrated curse, gripping your waist tightly as he stilled. "I know, fuck—I know," he muttered, jaw clenched, his cock twitching inside you.

Jay didn't say anything else. Instead, he grabbed the lube from the nightstand and squirted more onto Jake's length. Then, just as carefully, he guided Jake's hips forward, ensuring the stretch remained slow.

He leaned in, his breath ghosting over your ear. "Breathe," he murmured, his hand trailing down between your legs, fingers finding your clit.

The added pleasure made you exhale sharply, your body slowly easing up. Jake took that moment to push the rest of the way in, finally bottoming out with a deep, shuddering groan.

The fullness was something—a different kind of stretch, a different kind of sensation than you were used to. You felt so completely stuffed, and the burn slowly morphing into something else.

Jay shifted beneath you, adjusting his position so that your legs straddled him, his broad frame supporting your weight as he reached between your bodies. His fingers returned to your clit, circling it. The moment his mouth latched onto your breast, sucking and teasing the sensitive bud, you let out a helpless moan, your body trembling between the two of them.

Jake took that moment to start moving. Slowly at first, rolling his hips forward, pressing himself deeper inch by inch. A strangled gasp tore from your throat as you felt every bit of him stretching you in a way that had you teetering between pleasure and overwhelming sensation.

"Ha—so good," Jake groaned, as he felt the way your body clenched around him. "Your ass is so fucking tight. I could stay buried in here forever—ahh, fuck—"

Your hands scrambled for something to hold onto, fingers digging into Jay's shoulders as you struggled to ground yourself. The pressure between your legs from Jay's touch only intensified everything, sending you spiraling faster than you expected.

Jake picked up his pace, his hips snapping forward in deep thrusts. Each movement pushed you further onto Jay's waiting tongue and fingers, the dual stimulation making your mind go hazy.

You whimpered, your breath coming out in sharp, desperate gasps. "Kiss—please," you begged, eyes glossy, lips parted in a plea.

Jay wasted no time. His lips crashed against yours, swallowing your moans as his hand worked faster between your legs, matching the rhythm of Jake's thrusts.

You were already overwhelmed, but you still wanted more. Needed more.

Your hands moved blindly, fumbling with the waistband of Jay's shorts, tugging at the fabric in desperation. Jake smirked behind you, his thrusts slowing slightly as he turned your head to steal another kiss.

Jay let out a deep breathe, standing just enough to push down his shorts and boxers, his hard length springing free. He palmed himself lazily, watching the way your body rocked between them.

You broke the kiss with Jake, your gaze immediately dropping to Jay's aching arousal. "Want you too, please," you whined, voice shaky as your hands are reaching for him.

Jay inhaled sharply, his jaw clenching. "Yeah?" he murmured, dragging the tip of his cock along your soaked folds, teasing your clit, your body twitching at the light, agonizing touch. You keep nodding your head desperately.

"Fuck," he muttered, his fingers gripping his dick tight as he forced himself to hold back. "Not yet. Maybe next time... we need your body to get used to this first."

Your heart dropped, "b-but..." your voice wavered, disappointment crashing into you.

Jake stilled behind you, his hands soothing over your hips. "Shh, don't cry, baby," he murmured, pressing soft kisses along your shoulder, but the tears were already slipping down your cheeks.

Jay cursed under his breath, wiping a stray tear with his thumb. "You're too fucking cute when you get like this," he sighed. "We're just taking our time,"

You hiccupped a breath, nodding, even as your body still ached for more.

Jake's grip tightened on your hips, pulling you back to meet his thrusts. His pace grew frantic and desperate, losing himself in the way your body clenched around him.

Your moans grew louder, mixing with his gasps, your legs shaking violently. Your muscles gave out, and the two of you collapsed onto Jay beneath you.

"Shit—!" Jay cursed as your weight pressed down on him, but his hand never left your dripping cunt. His fingers slipped inside, one, then two—stretching you open, curling it together with Jake's thrust inside your ass.

A scream ripped from your throat, back arching as the sudden intrusion sent you into an orgasm with no build-up. Your vision blurred, your body convulsing between them, the pleasure hitting so hard that it almost hurt.

"I'm cumming, oh fuck — I'm cumming!" Jake groaned, his hips stuttering as he spilled into the condom, his grip on your waist loosening as the last waves of pleasure wracked through him.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence, just the sound of your ragged breaths mixing together. Then, slowly, Jake shifted, carefully pulling out of you with a soft, "Fuck, that was..." He trailed off, still catching his breath.

He rolled onto his side, tugging you with him, pressing a lazy, satisfied kiss to your temple. His lips curved into a smirk as he leaned over, stealing a slow kiss from Jay before turning back to you, brushing his knuckles against your flushed cheek.

"Tired?" Jay murmured, watching as your eyes fluttered shut. You managed a small hum in response, body sinking into the mattress, completely drained.

Normally, the three of you could go for hours, pushing past exhaustion until you were nothing but a boneless, overstimulated mess. But this time, it felt different. Deeper. More intense.

A warm hand smoothed down your spine. You didn't know whose it was—Jay or Jake—but it didn't matter. The heat of their bodies surrounded you, and within seconds, you slipped into unconsciousness.

Jake drifted off almost instantly, his breath evening out as he buried his face against your shoulder, one arm draped lazily over your waist. His soft snores filled the quiet room, his grip on you instinctive even in sleep.

Jay propped up on one elbow, let out a quiet exhale, glancing between the two of you. For a moment longer, he just watched the rise and fall of your chest, the way Jake's fingers twitched in his sleep, and the peaceful expression on your face. Then, with a sigh, he reached over, pulling the blanket over the both of you before turning onto his back.

You woke up suddenly, an odd sense of emptiness settling in your chest, and you don't even know why. The bed felt lighter, and the steady warmth that should have been there was missing.

Jake's loud, unbothered snores vibrated against your neck, his arm still draped lazily around your waist. You groaned softly, shifting carefully to pry yourself from his grip. He mumbled something incoherent in his sleep, but didn't wake as you finally slipped free.

Sitting up, you glanced around the dark room. Jay wasn't there.

Frowning, you grabbed one of Jake's oversized shirts from the floor and pulled it over your head, the hem falling mid-thigh. The air was cooler outside the warmth of the blankets as you quietly padded out of the room.

Descending the stairs, you caught the faint flicker of light coming from the living room. The low hum of a guitar solo played softly in the background, the screen illuminating Jay's face as he lounged on the couch, a half-empty beer bottle resting against his thigh.

"Why aren't you in bed?" you murmured, your voice thick with sleep. God, you sounded so clingy. But you couldn't help it. The bed felt too empty without him.

Jay's gaze flickered to you as he took another slow sip of his beer before replying, "Trying to make myself sleep."

You hummed in response, rubbing your eyes as you shuffled closer, the oversized shirt slipping off one shoulder. Without hesitation, you sank onto the couch beside him, tucking your legs beneath you.

"What can I do to help?" you asked softly, eyes still heavy.

"Just gonna finish this," Jay replied, his eyes fixed on the TV in front of him. You let out a quiet yawn, your foot tapping idly against the floor as you waited.

"Go back upstairs," Jay murmured, still not looking at you. "I'll be up soon."

You shook your head, stubborn even in your drowsiness. Instead of leaving, you shifted closer, leaning against him, resting your head against his shoulder. He stiffened slightly, his whole body going still as he felt your breath warm against his neck.

"Why are you so awkward?" you mumbled, "we have sex, like, all the time, and there's still this... barrier."

Jay didn't answer. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, and before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out—words you would never dare say if you were fully awake.

"Do you hate me?"

You weren't even sure why you said it. Maybe it was the way he always seemed just a little more distant than Jake. Maybe it was the fact that, even after all this time, you still couldn't quite read him the way you wanted to.

Jay finally let out a slow breath, placing his beer down on the table. Then, he turned his head slightly, just enough for his lips to brush against the top of your head.

"You're an idiot," he muttered. But his hand found yours, fingers lacing together with yours, squeezing softly. "How could I ever hate you?"

"Dunno," you mumbled, melting into the his touch. His arm wrapped around you instinctively, pulling you just a little closer. Even through your drowsiness, you felt that familiar tingling sensation spreading through your chest.

Jay exhaled, tilting his head back against the couch. "I'm just... feeling guilty."

Your brows furrowed slightly, your cheek still pressed against his shoulder. "About what?"

He hesitated, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "I feel like I never really got the chance to properly apologize," he admitted. "For how I treated you in the beginning... and for your throat."

A small smile tugged at your lips. "My throat is fine," you murmured, nuzzling even closer.

Jay scoffed softly, his fingers tightening slightly around yours. "Still... sorry," he muttered.

You hummed in response, barely awake now, the warmth of his body lulling you further into relaxation. A comfortable silence settled between you before you mumbled, "Am not gonna take Jake away from you, y'know."

Jay stiffened slightly. "You're still thinking I'm jealous of you?"

You smiled, shifting against him. "Maybe? Either way, I like you both around me."

His grip on your hand loosened, and when you peeked up at him, his expression were hesitant, like he wasn't sure how to respond. But then, his lips quirked up, and he patted your head. "Yeah?"

"Mhm," you mumbled sleepily. "And I like it when you're rough... Be like that always, please."

Jay exhaled sharply, eyes darkening just a fraction. You let out a louder yawn, completely unaware of how your words were affecting him. "And I miss having your cock in my mouth."

Jay groaned, tilting his head back against the couch. "You really have no filter when you're sleepy, do you?"

You giggled against his chest. "Nope."

He let out a slow, deep breath, rubbing a hand over his face. "Go to sleep before you say something that makes me do something stupid."

"Wouldn't mind that either..." You hummed again, but instead of settling down, you shifted, pressing your face into his lap, your lips grazing over the outline of his hardening cock.

Jay sucked in a sharp breath. "You're not even listening to me, are you?"

"Mm-mm," you hummed playfully, tugging at the waistband of his shorts.

His cock was already half-hard, twitching slightly as you pressed a soft, teasing kiss to the tip over the fabric.

Jay sucked in a sharp breath, his grip on your hair tightening, gathering it into a makeshift ponytail just slightly as he felt your warm mouth envelop the head of his cock. "Careful," he warned.

You hummed, the vibration making him groan low in his throat. Despite your sleepiness, your tongue flicked over his tip, lapping at the precum that had gathered there before slowly taking more of him into your mouth.

"Shit," he exhaled, his free hand gripping the couch cushion beside him. You were still half-asleep, barely aware of how needy and pliant you were being, and that made it so much worse for him.

Jay tugged at your hair gently, forcing you to look up at him. Your half-lidded eyes were glassy with sleep, your lips already glistening with spit. He cursed under his breath, brushing his thumb along your cheek.

"You're really something else, you know that?" he muttered. You only blinked up at him, Jay let out a slow breath, he guided your mouth back down, pushing his hips forward just enough for you to take him deeper.

"Since you miss it so much," he murmured, his thumb brushing against the corner of your lips, "I'll make sure you don't forget how full your mouth can get."

He moved your head with his hand, setting the pace for you. His hips rocked forward in slow, shallow thrusts, careful not to push too deep. But you whined softly, taking control, swallowing more of him down.

Jay cursed, his abs tensing as he tried to hold back. The blowjob was sloppy—messy, lazy. You weren't focused, lost somewhere between sleep and need, your hands barely gripping his thighs for support. So he did it for you, controlling the movement, his fingers guiding your head as his cock disappeared between your lips over and over again.

His breathing grew heavier, his stomach clenching. "I'll be finishing soon," he whispered.

"Jay?"

Jay's head snapped up.

Jake stood at the staircase, wearing only his pajama bottoms, his hair messy from sleep, rubbing at his eyes as he yawned. His expression was still half-asleep, but he was clearly taking in the sight of you between Jay's legs.

Jay exhaled through his nose. "God, both of you are so needy."

Jake dropped onto the couch beside him, slumping slightly. He looked down at you, his fingers brushing through the strands of your hair that is falling. On a normal night, Jake would be on your back, pressing into you, fucking you together. But tonight was different. You were all just barely holding onto consciousness.

Jay turned his head as Jake leaned in, lips brushing over the curve of his jaw, then trailing down his neck. Jay's hand slid over Jake's waist, pulling him in as their mouths met in an unhurried kiss.

Jake hummed against him, fingers tracing lazy circles over Jay's chest, flicking over his nipple. Jay let out a breathy chuckle. "You're barely awake."

Jake smiled sleepily, nuzzling against Jay's neck. "And yet I still found you guys." He glanced down at you. "C'mon, babe, let him finish so we can all go back to bed."

You hummed softly in response, your mouth still wrapped around Jay, tongue swirling lazily over his length.

Your pace was slow, but it didn't matter, Jay was already on edge, his hips twitching as he fought the urge to thrust into your mouth fully. He could feel Jake beside him, the way his fingers flicker his nipples.

Jake's other hand moved lower, brushing over your shoulder before slipping beneath Jay's shirt, his palm pressing flat against his stomach.

Jay's breath hitched. "Shit," he muttered. He could barely focus anymore, the wet heat of your mouth, and the teasing touch of Jake's hands. It was too much all at once.

Jay pushed your head down further, his cock hitting the back of your throat as he came, his body tensing beneath Jake's touch. He held you there for a moment, his breath coming out in harsh, uneven pants before finally releasing his grip, letting you pull back.

You swallowed, licking your lips sleepily as you looked up at him.

"Good?" you murmured. "Can we sleep now?"

Jay let out a breathless chuckle, still caught in the aftershocks of his orgasm. His hand found your hair, stroking it in slowly.

"Yeah," he muttered, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "Come on, let's go."

Jake yawned beside you, stretching his arms over his head before reaching for you, guiding you up onto your shaky legs. The three of you stumbled up the stairs, still half-asleep, and Jay's hands instinctively settled on your lower backs, guiding you forward.

Once you reached the bed, you collapsed onto the mattress without a second thought. Jay lay on his back, his chest beneath your cheek, while Jake curled up behind you, one arm lazily draped over your waist.

As your eyelids fluttered shut, one last thought flickered through your hazy mind.

This felt nice. Too nice.

And God forbid, you were starting to need it.

If your 18-year-old self could see you now, she'd probably laugh in your face. She'd roll her eyes, scoff, and tell you to get a grip, that liking two guys at the same time wasn't a big deal, that you were being dramatic. Maybe she'd even tell you to kill yourself for overthinking it. Because back then, emotions were easy to dismiss. Love wasn't something you spent time analyzing; it was either there, or it wasn't.

Now you were 22, caught in something you didn't even have a name for. A situationship? Friends with benefits? Whatever it was, it consumed you.

The longer you were with them, the more you realized how easily you had settled into this dynamic. You had become comfortable—too comfortable. The way you sought them out, the way you melted under their touches, the way you craved them when they weren't around. It wasn't just physical neediness anymore. You liked them. Both of them. Romantically.

But you told yourself to just go with the flow.

People fell in love with their friends all the time, didn't they? And most of them survived it.

Besides, you were lucky. The two people you liked not only wanted you around, but they treated you well. They welcomed you into their arms without hesitation. And on top of that, the three of you had the best sex imaginable. It felt like an advantage.

And it was enough.

"What shade do I get?" You asked, your arms wrapped around Jake's as you stood in front of the display of matte lipsticks. Your fingers skimmed over the rows of colors, indecisive.

Jake tilted his head, studying them before picking one up and swiping it across his wrist.

"Are you sure you want this brand?" he asked, rubbing the spot with his thumb. "It feels kinda sticky."

"Because it's a super stay," you explained. "I tried it once when I was sucking you off, and it didn't even smudge."

Jake's eyes lit up instantly, his mouth parting slightly before he turned back to the display.

"Really?" He grabbed a few more shades without hesitation, tossing them into your basket. "I think you should get all of these."

You laughed, watching as Jake eagerly tossed more lipsticks into your basket. "You just want an excuse to see me test them out, don't you?"

Jake smirked, unbothered by how obvious he was. "Of course. I wanna know which one looks the best when you're on your knees."

Heat crawled up your neck, and you playfully smacked his arm. "Pervert."

"And yet you love it," he teased, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your cheek.

Before you could retort, another voice joined in. "What are you two up to now?"

You turned to see Jay approaching, a cup of iced coffee in hand. He arched a brow at the sight of the basket full of lipsticks before looking at you expectantly.

"She's getting new lipstick," Jake answered for you, grinning. "Ones that don't smudge, even when she's—"

You slapped a hand over his mouth before he could finish that sentence. "Shut up!" you hissed, glancing around to make sure no one overheard.

Jay's eyes flickered with amusement, sipping his coffee slowly. "I see. So, should I assume you're going to be testing them out on us later?"

You groaned, hiding your face behind your hands. "I hate both of you."

It was enough, really.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you glanced at the elevator mirror, taking in the reflection of the three of you. Jay stood in the middle, arms weighed down with shopping bags that you and Jake had gleefully filled. Jake leaned against the mirrored wall with a lazy grin, one hand in his pocket, the other draped over your shoulder.

It felt really nice, having them both around.

"D-Don't ruin my hair, please!" you moaned. "I need to attend some birthday party—ahh!"

Your dress was bunched up around your waist, panties tugged to the side, leaving you open and exposed as Jay thrust into you from behind.

"You should've thought about that before teasing me all day," Jay growled.

"I knew getting ready here was a bad idea," you whimpered, fingers scrambling against the bathroom sink for support. Your reflection in the mirror was a mess, flushed skin, glazed eyes, lips parted as moans spilled out despite your best efforts to stay quiet. And to make things worse, Jake was right there, watching.

His shorts were already pulled down just enough, one hand lazily stroking himself as he leaned against the counter. He looked amused, completely unbothered by the fact that Jay was fucking you senseless only a few feet away.

Jay caught his gaze and smirked. "Jake. Shut her up."

Jake moved immediately, stepping in front of you, palming your jaw before tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

"You're gonna ruin my makeu—mmph!"

Your protest was cut short as Jake pressed his cock past your lips, groaning as the warmth of your mouth engulfed him. He didn't waste time, thrusting shallowly, forcing you to take him deeper.

"Don't talk when your mouth is full." Jake chuckled, brushing stray strands of hair from your face.

Jay adjusted his grip on your hips, making sure you were positioned just right between them before snapping his hips forward, hitting deeper. You moaned helplessly around Jake's cock, eyes rolling back.

In the end, you were late to the party.

"What the fuck? The call time was 7:00, and it's already 8:30!" Sunoo huffed, his sharp eyes narrowing as he grabbed your face, tilting it side to side. "And your mascara is a disaster. Were you crying or just getting absolutely wrecked?"

You blinked at him innocently while he pulled out a makeup wipe, trying to salvage the mess.

"Traffic," you exhaled, barely suppressing a smirk.

Sunoo rolled his eyes so hard you thought they might get stuck that way. "Yeah, traffic on Jay's and Jake's dicks, maybe."

You ignore him, instead you spotted Sunghoon in the crowd and immediately beelined toward him, pushing up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

"Happy birthday!" you chirped, grinning.

With finals finally over, the weight of the semester lifted from your shoulders. You and Sunoo jumped up and down in pure excitement, squealing like kids on Christmas morning as you rattled off ideas for how to spend your break.

"I have enough savings to travel abroad! You said you wanted to go to Spain, right?" you gushed, practically bouncing on your feet.

Sunoo gasped dramatically, gripping your shoulders. "Are we actually doing this?! Oh my God, imagine us drinking sangria in Barcelona, living our best lives!"

The two of you shrieked in unison, drawing a few odd glances from passing students, but neither of you cared. The rush of post-finals freedom was intoxicating.

"Maybe I should ask Jay and Jake if they want to come," you mused, pulling out your phone.

Sunoo's jaw dropped. "What?! I mean, Jake is fun to be around, but I don't want to hear any of your sex noises while we're sightseeing!"

You scoffed, shoving his shoulder. "We wouldn't do that with you around! I have self-respect, you know!"

Sunoo gave you a deadpan stare. "Yeah, keep telling yourself that." You rolled your eyes, ignoring him as he pulled out his phone. "Anyway, where are they? Their exams finished before ours, and I literally texted in the group chat that we're getting samgyup."

He started typing furiously, muttering under his breath. Then, suddenly, he froze. "Oh?" Sunoo blinked at his screen. "Wait. It's their anniversary today?"

Your brows furrowed. "What?" You peeked over his shoulder at his phone.

There, on his feed, was a post from a user named Ni-ki, someone Sunoo was mutuals with. The caption read: Happy four years to my parents <3

Your stomach twisted. A cold sensation washed over you, like someone had dumped ice water over your head.

Four years. Four years of them. Of course, before you, before any of this—there was just the two of them. It was so obvious, wasn't it? Relationships were meant for two people.

You swallowed down the sudden lump in your throat and forced a smile, pretending like it didn't bother you. "Let's just go eat samgyup, just the two of us," you told Sunoo, keeping your tone light. "They're probably celebrating."

Sunoo studied your face, eyes narrowing slightly, but he didn't press. He simply nodded. "Sure."

The rest of the evening, you tried. You tried to be present while grilling meat, while sipping soju, while joking with Sunoo. You tried to enjoy the post-exam freedom, to let yourself have fun while shopping.

But every few minutes, your fingers would twitch toward your phone. You'd glance at the screen, waiting for a message. A text. Something.

Nothing. Your chest ached, you exhaled sharply, shoving your phone into your pocket as you turned back to the skincare aisle in front of you. Focus.

It was normal. They were a couple. They needed their own time, their own space. You were just a third person. A fun little addition. Someone to spice things up in bed.

It was enough. Wasn't it?

The air was crisp when you arrived at Jay's apartment, adjusting your jacket as you stood outside the door. When it finally swung open, Jake was there, a warm grin on his face.

"Hey, baby. Cold out?" he teased, pulling you inside before you could answer. His arms wrapped around you immediately. The scent of his cologne mixed with the faint aroma of whatever Jay was cooking in the kitchen.

"What's your plan for Christmas?" he asked, voice light as he led you inside.

You shrugged, barely thinking about it. "Not sure yet."

Jay glanced up from the kitchen, raising a brow. "No family trip this year?"

"Probably not. I might just...stay around here."

Jake's grin widened. "Good. Then you can spend it with us."

You let them pull you in. You cooked together, the three of you moving seamlessly in the kitchen. Jake stole bites of the food while Jay smacked his hand away, muttering curses under his breath. You laughed, pressing into both of them, soaking in the easy comfort of their presence.

Later, a movie played in the background while the three of you curled up together on the couch. Jake was the first to initiate the making out, his lips finding yours, his hands skimming your waist. Normally, you'd melt into him.

But tonight... Something felt off. You weren't in the mood. You excused yourself quickly, heading to the bathroom, pressing a hand against your abdomen as you shut the door behind you.

Breathe. A dull pain throbbed low in your stomach, the kind that made your body feel sluggish. Right, that explained it. You were on your period.

When you stepped back into the living room, both of them looked up.

"Everything okay?" Jake asked, brow furrowing slightly.

You nodded, chewing on the inside of your cheek. "I'm just...on my period."

Jay stood immediately, already reaching for his wallet. "Do you need pads? Tampons?"

You blinked. "Uh...yeah. Pads, please."

Without hesitation, he grabbed his keys and left. You stared at the door even after he was gone. Why does he have to be so fucking perfect?

There was no sex that night. Instead, the three of you played board games. Jay made you a hot chocolate, murmuring that it might help with the cramps. Jake pulled you into his lap during the game, rubbing your back absentmindedly.

It should've felt nice. And it did. But at dinner, as Jay and Jake stood in the kitchen, bickering over a recipe, laughter spilling between them, you watched them, your fingers tightening around the edge of the table.

You smiled, ignoring the dull ache in your chest.

Because they were perfect together.

Because they had always been perfect together.

And yet, for some reason, you felt like you were ruining things between them. A third presence in something that had already been whole. You weren't meant to be here—not really.

Why did it hurt?

You scoffed at yourself, shaking your head. It's the period hormones, you reasoned. That's all. That's why your emotions were all over the place. That's why everything stung more than it should.

Just go with the flow.

You'd been telling yourself that for months. That it was enough. But then... why were you acting like this?

The three of you were outside now, the winter air biting at your cheeks as Jake built a snowman. His breath puffed out in small clouds as he packed snow together, his energy as endless as ever.

"We should enroll together for the next semester! Maybe we can be classmates!" Jake chirped, glancing up at you with a grin.

You let out a soft laugh, exhaling into the cold. "Yeah, maybe." But your voice lacked its usual excitement.

Jay stepped beside him, pulling Jake's scarf up higher, adjusting his gloves with careful hands. Jake giggled, shaking his head playfully to mess up Jay's hair in return.

Jay leaned in, kissing him softly. You looked away immediately, biting your lip. Scolded yourself for feeling that ache again.

It wasn't jealousy. It wasn't. But why did your chest feel so fucking tight?

You let out a slow breath, forcing a smile as Jake turned back to his snowman. The snow crunched beneath your boots as you shifted on your feet, rubbing your gloved hands together for warmth.

Just go with the flow.

You're overthinking again. But even as you tried to swallow down the tightness in your chest, it remained lingering.

"Hey."

You blinked, snapping back to reality when Jay called for you. He had stepped away from Jake, his dark eyes searching yours.

"Yeah?" You hoped your voice sounded normal.

Jay studied you for a second longer before shaking his head slightly. "You okay?"

"Of course," you answered too quickly, but he didn't look convinced.

Your stomach twisted, and for a brief second, you wondered if you should just say it. Say what had been weighing on you. But what would even be the point? They are happy.

"You just look... off."

You laughed, waving him off. "I have cramps. That's all." That part wasn't a lie.

"Want me to buy you something for it?"

Your heart clenched, even though it was a simple, kind offer. You shook your head. "No, I'll be fine."

Jay's stare lingered for a second longer, like he didn't fully believe you, but he didn't push. Instead, he reached out, ruffling your hair before walking back toward Jake, who was still messing with the snowman's face.

The two of them laughed over something, their voices mixing into the winter air. You crossed your arms over your chest, forcing your gaze to the sky. You shouldn't feel like this.

You shouldn't feel like the outsider.

The more you lingered in these feelings, the more salty you became. The bitterness wasn't so easy to swallow anymore.

It crept into the way you spoke, the way you moved around them, the way your smile felt just a little too forced when Jake clung to Jay like he was his whole world.

And maybe he was. Maybe they were each other's whole world, and you were just a guest in it.

By day three of Christmas break, they asked you to hang out again. And honestly, why?

Your period meant no sex, no fun. So why did they still want you here?

That was what annoyed you the most. Because now, without sex to distract you, you were seeing them for what they really were. A couple. The way they moved around each other, the way their bodies fit so effortlessly together it wasn't just about lust. It was real. And it was in front of your own fucking eyes.

Jake, as always, was in Jay's lap.

The movie played, but you weren't really paying attention. Instead, all you could focus on was Jake's soft giggles, the absentminded way Jay's fingers skimmed over his arm.

They were whispering, laughing, caught up in their own world.

"I can't hear the movie." Your voice was tight, teeth clenched so hard your jaw ached.

They both stilled, turning to you with wide eyes.

"Sorry," Jake mumbled, shrinking back slightly. A moment later, he moved toward you, arms reaching to pull you into their space, like he always did, but you leaned away.

The rejection was small, but it might as well have been a gunshot. Jake's hands hesitated mid-air before he let them drop.

"Forget it," you sighed, standing up. "I'm going to bed."

"You're sleeping over?" Jake asked, confused.

"Is that a problem?" Your voice came out sharper than intended, and Jake immediately shut his mouth, exchanging a glance with Jay.

You didn't wait for a response. Instead, you made your way to Jay's room, shutting the door behind you a little harder than necessary.

"I think it's the period," Jake mumbled, gaze fixed on the staircase. "I've never been with a girl before, but the guys on the soccer team always complain about their girlfriends getting moody when they're on it."

Jay didn't answer. Instead, he leaned back against the couch, staring at the flickering images on the screen, lips pressed in a thin line, because he knew exactly what it was.

And if he was right, things were only going to get more complicated.

You pretended to be asleep when you felt the bed shift.

Jake's arms carefully adjusted around you, pulling you closer as he sighed against your hair. On the other side, Jay moved in, his arm draping over your waist, fitting seamlessly between you and Jake.

You stayed still, breathing evenly, willing your body to relax even though your mind was wide awake.

But you couldn't sleep, the weight of their arms was suffocating.

By the time their breathing evened out, soft snores filling the space, you slowly peeled yourself away. Jake stirred slightly, but didn't wake. Neither did Jay. Quietly, you reached for your bag, slipping into your winter coat and boots.

And then, without looking back, you walked out.

The cold bit at your skin the second you stepped outside. The streets were nearly empty, save for the occasional flicker of headlights in the distance. The only place open at this hour was a small K-Mart, its neon sign buzzing weakly against the night sky.

You stepped inside, the warm air hitting your face as you walked straight to the ramen aisle. Jin ramen, tteokbokki, enoki rolls—your hands moved on autopilot, gathering ingredients.

But when you stopped, staring blankly at the boiling water in the store's self-service kitchen, you felt it again.

That unbearable weight in your chest. Your lips quivered. Not from the cold, but from the pressure threatening to spill over. Why did it have to be like this?

You squeezed your eyes shut, swallowing hard. The sound of the store's entrance sliding open barely registered in your mind. Footsteps shuffled against the linoleum floor, followed by the sound of complaining.

"Why did the only open K-Mart have to be this far? God, I'm freezing—grr. Fuck your ramen addiction, really."

A familiar voice. Your head snapped up, meeting her gaze.

Heeseung's girlfriend blinked at you, a polite smile forming on her lips until she actually saw your face.

And then, before you could stop it—before you could pretend—your tears fell.

Her face immediately softened, she just pulled you into her arms, tucking your head against her chest. Her hands rubbed slow, comforting circles against your back, her body shielding you from the curious eyes of the late-night shoppers.

"Shit, you're really crying," she muttered, not unkindly.

You let out a shaky breath, gripping the fabric of her coat. Heeseung appeared beside the two of you, his eyes widening slightly at the sight. He exchanged a glance with his girlfriend, but to his credit, he didn't say anything.

Instead, he reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a pack of tissues, and wordlessly held it out to you.

The three of you sat in silence, eating your ramen. Heeseung and his girlfriend didn't ask why you had been crying, didn't pry or push for an explanation. Instead, Heeseung kept the conversation light, cracking goofy jokes that forced small chuckles out of you, helping ease the tightness in your chest.

After finishing your meal, they drove you back to your dorm. As you stepped out of the car, Heeseung waved lazily, and his girlfriend leaned over to press a kiss to your cheek, smirking as she teased, "If you ever need a distraction, I'd be happy to be between your legs any day."

You managed a laugh, shaking your head as you muttered, "I'll keep that in mind."

But as soon as you closed the door behind you, the ache in your chest returned.

Avoidance was the only thing you could do now.

Sunoo sat cross-legged on your bed, finalizing the ticket purchase for Spain. You had only brought up the idea of a trip yesterday, and now he had a flight booked for tomorrow morning, jokingly humming some song about being a backburner.

Of course, you felt guilty.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, sitting beside him. "I know I've been all over the place."

Sunoo barely looked up from his phone. "Yeah, yeah, you always apologize," he sighed dramatically. Then, he shot you a pointed look. "But this time, you better focus on me, okay?"

Your phone buzzed on the bed beside you. A string of messages from Jay and Jake.

— Where did you go last night? — Why didn't you wake us up? — Are you okay? — Talk to us.

You hesitated before typing a short reply: Sorry for being weird. I was just in a bad mood. I'll be gone for a while, going on a trip with Sunoo.

You didn't wait for their response before silencing your notifications.

Spain was beautiful. Sunoo dragged you through every tourist spot, every café, every club he could find. You drank, laughed, danced until your feet hurt, flirted with strangers just to feel something different. But no matter how much fun you had, no matter how many distractions Sunoo shoved in front of you, the ache never really went away.

Sometimes, in the middle of a conversation, you would catch yourself zoning out, your mind slipping back to them. Wondering if they missed you.

By the time you returned home, enrollment for the second semester had already begun. Sunoo still had no clue about your tangled-up feelings, and you had done your best to keep it that way. Meanwhile, Jay and Jake had stopped flooding your messages, the once-active group chat now reduced to occasional TikTok links exchanged between Sunoo and Jake.

"We should try to get into the same classes again," Sunoo chirped, pulling you out of your thoughts as you both walked toward campus. "I swear to God, if you abandon me for someone else again, I'm—"

He cut himself off when you suddenly stopped in your tracks.

Because just a few feet away, by the enrollment booths, stood Jay and Jake.

Jake's eyes lit up the moment he saw you, his signature wide grin stretching across his face. Before you could react, he was already pulling you into a tight hug, his familiar scent of clean laundry and something subtly musky wrapped around you.

"You're back!" he chirped excitedly, rocking you slightly in his embrace.

You stiffened. Your hands hovered awkwardly over his back, unsure whether to push him away or let yourself melt into the comfort of his touch.

Sunoo, however, had no such hesitation. With an exaggerated huff, he reached forward and pinched Jake's waist.

"Hey! You're trying to steal my girl again!" Sunoo scolded.

Jake only laughed, sticking his tongue out playfully as he tightened his hold on you. "Not stealing, just borrowing." He turned his head, his lips brushing close to your ear. "You ignored us for so long. You didn't even bring us back a souvenir."

"Sorry," you mumbled, forcing a small smile. "It was... a last-minute trip."

Jake pulled back slightly, still holding onto your wrists, his eyes scanning your face. Jay, on the other hand, remained silent. Unlike Jake, he didn't rush forward to greet you. He stood a step behind, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. He was observing you.

Trying to break the tension, you shifted your attention back to Jake, forcing yourself to engage in conversation. "So, uh... how was break for you guys?"

Jake opened his mouth to respond, but Jay beat him to it.

"You tell us," Jay said. "You're the one who disappeared."

"I—I just needed some space," you said quickly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Things were just... a lot."

"A lot," Jay repeated slowly, tilting his head. His gaze flickered over you, assessing, before settling back on your face. "And now?"

"Now?" you echoed, caught off guard.

"Are you still needing space?"

There was an underlying challenge in his words. Like he was daring you to say yes. You hesitated, you should say yes. That would be the smart thing to do. The right thing. You had spent the entire trip convincing yourself that distance was what you needed.

But standing here, with Jake still holding onto you and Jay pinning you down with his gaze, you realized, you didn't actually want space. You just wanted them, but you couldn't say that.

So instead, you forced a weak chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. "I mean... I'm here now, aren't I?"

Jake beamed, satisfied with your answer. "That means we're celebrating! Let's go out tonight."

Sunoo let out an exaggerated shriek, eyes widening in disbelief. "Excuse me?!" He placed a hand over his chest, looking personally offended by the sudden plan.

Jake only laughed, completely unfazed. "Of course you’re coming!" He slung an arm around Sunoo’s shoulders, giving him a playful shake.

Sunoo scoffed dramatically, swatting at his arm. "You act like I want to go. But fine, whatever." He shot you a sideways glance, eyes sharp, knowing. "If she wants to go, we’ll go."

And so, you went. The four of you ended up at a new restaurant, one that Jake had been eager to try. But the moment you sat down, regret settled in your bones.

You tried to act normal, laughing when Jake cracked a joke, nodding along when Jay spoke, but you couldn’t hold it together. Your fingers fidgeted endlessly with the edge of your sleeve, your mind drifting too far. You weren’t present. Not really.

Sunoo noticed halfway through dinner, he leaned in slightly. "Maybe we should go."

You didn’t hesitate. "Yeah. Let’s go."

And now, you were crying again.

In the car. On the drive home. Wherever. It didn’t even matter anymore. Sunoo sighed, pulling you close, his arms wrapping around you in a careful hold. "Hey, hey, it’s okay," he murmured, his palm rubbing slow circles against your back, trying to soothe you. But there was an edge of panic in his voice because he didn’t know. He didn’t know why you were crying.

And you couldn’t tell him, because admitting it would make it real.

You could only remember what he had told you before. "Don’t lose yourself."

But you had, you had lost yourself the moment you started falling for them.

It was sad. And stupid. And kind of funny in a cruel way. Funny how easily you fell. Funny how, in the beginning, you kept telling yourself that this was enough. But it wasn’t.

And now, you regretted everything, because it only made your feelings stronger.

You thought you could handle it. You thought you could play it cool, stay casual. But you couldn’t. You didn’t. You were pathetic—because you let yourself believe you could be this comfortable, that you could exist between them without falling apart.

But you weren’t comfortable. You weren’t okay.

The only space they made for you was in their bed, not in their love.

#enhypen #enhypen smut #enha smut #jay x reader #jake x reader #jay smut #jake smut #enhypen x reader #jay x jake

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vanilleandclove · 9 days ago

Text

playoffs; jack abbot x f!trauma surgeon!reader

pittsburgh has a vibrant pub scene, being of true east coast fashion. when it’s playoff season for the steelers, that can only lead to bar brawls and broken tooths, most times. sometimes it’s bloody knuckles and misogynists. + as jack’s 49th birthday is around the corner, you book him a solo-vacation.

warnings: violence, harassment towards women, misogyny, alcohol consumption, language, comments on body image/weight by others, talks of the menstrual cycle, trauma induced infertility, postpartum depression symptoms mentioned (non-reader), age gap: reader is 33, jack is 48. word count: 4.7k notes: these are based on two different anon requests! i merged the ideas :) — anon transcript at the end. cenote = natural watering/sinkhole, i’m from the bajío lands of mexico, michoacan to be exact- my family is purely purépecha, and have only been to a cenote twice once in michoacan & cancun.

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Winter dawned onto Pittsburgh with an iron fist, near subzero temperatures, black ice, alcohol flowing into everyone to keep their blood warm, tree lighting ceremony, and most importantly, the Steelers made the playoffs.

It became a tradition for the Pitt’s senior employees to pass the grunt work off to anyone R3 and under for the night shift and have the new attendings run the emergency room, all to gather around and watch the first game of playoff season.

You and Heather stood at the bar, patiently waiting for the bartender to serve the three pitchers of beer. She knew you both were regulars, you thank the entirety of 2015 and 2021 when you had Abbot troubles and she had Robby issues, all around, it made for good conversation and excessive gratuity.

It was crowded, gross, and musty. You almost wanted to scream “Go Pac, go!” just for the shoulders of the blue collared men to stop piercing into your spine.

“I’ll get you ladies next, as well as those fancy cherries you like hon” Sara pointed at you as she walked into the back to grab the pitchers. You loved maraschino cherries, mostly because you wanted to prove you could tie the stems with your tongue to Jack who doesn’t believe you.

“I thought boarding was worse, Sara must be swamped” Heather spoke up, yelling a tad from the loud noise around you both that could drown out her words.

“I know her paycheck is fat during this time of the year” you shouted back, resting your hands onto the bar, glancing down at your engagement ring.

It's been a long year with Jack, you couldn’t wait for it to be over with just so you have the false sense of a new era starting with your lover; it made for good motivation. 10 years he’s been in your life, a decade, now that made your lower back feel as stiff as a board.

“Care to explain why we were left out of this?” Dana scooted between both of you, Bridget already occupying the extra chair you brought out for the booth. Dana’s husband was bulky and tall, like a lumberjack- pure midwest, he beelined his way to the bathroom as Dana conversed with you and Heathers

“Since when did you let the girls out to play?” you commented, giving her a hug with your outside arm, it’s been awhile since you’ve had day shift so seeing Dana was sparse.

“Honey it’s date night, my kids are fast asleep with my eldest babysitting, the girls get to come out” she responded, giving Heather a hug before making her way to the booth.

You smiled as it filled you with hope. Despite all of the years, kids, stressful jobs Dana and her husband had, they still had time for themselves.

“Can I buy you ladies a drink?” a stranger's voice peeked through, you could smell the alcohol seeping from his pores, his T.J. Watt jersey stained.

“No we’re good, thank you” you responded faster than you could think.

“Really not even one?” his voice was nasally, grosser than the fact that his hot breath was directly in your face, “Could make y’all have a good time” he got a little too close to your ear.

Jack made you carry a Swiss Army Knife- specifically the Swiss Champ on you at all times, he even gave you a 30 minute lecture on how to use it, even though you were mainly concentrating on his biceps and triceps flexing at the movement. He clipped them to your car keys, when you wore your jeans he put them on a carabiner with your keys and clipped them onto the belt loop.

“What about you darling? Want a drink with me, I know the perfect way to do jell-o shots, start at the cli-“.

“Okay, I already told you no, just go dude” you cut him off, sensing Heather’s uncomfortably from behind you, “Seriously you reek” you didn’t care for the fact that he towered over you, if he was bulky and the fist he started to make could land you in a worst spot than Dana in August.

“You have no say for your friend missy” he pressed, anchoring his next to be at eye level to you. In your peripheral, you saw Jack straighten his back, sticking one leg out of the booth, ready for anything if you needed him. “Who knows, maybe I could take both of you”.

You made sure Heather was behind you, beginning to shield her with your arm slightly just so he wouldn’t fully register. “I bet your pussy is tight, soaking from all the attention you’re getting”.

Within seconds you clocked his jaw, the act leading him to push you by the chest into Heather hard, getting the wind knocked into. Jack and Robby immediately got up and made their way in between you, just before you pounced onto him to throw another punch directly to his nose, the punch only making him more angry to the point where the punch that was supposed to land on your abdomen missed as Robby shoved him and led the punch to land directly on Jack’s arm that shielded your chest.

You felt the blow nonetheless, cushioned, you still heard a groan leave Jack’s mouth. Just as Jaime, the bouncer, put the man in a citizen's arrest and quickly threw him out, Sara didn’t charge you for the pitchers or cherries, even threw in espresso martinis for you and the girls.

You all sat around the booth, Bridget in the chair, watching the Steelers versus the Packers, it was barely the second quarter. “How’s your arm?” you nudged your elbow lightly into Jack’s waist as his arm draped over your shoulders, holding your free hand and playing with your engagement ring.

“It’s fine, nice punch” Jack complimented, gaining a peck from you in response, “What even happened?”.

“You don’t wanna know” you responded, his eyes not leaving yours. He took your word for it even if it did bother him of not knowing.

“So Rambo, I guess we should add Rocky onto your list of nicknames” Robby joked, his arm draped around Heather’s shoulder.

You chuckled, taking a sip of Jack’s beer that you swore always tasted better, “I ain’t from Philly Robby” you deadpanned sarcastically.

“What about Rocky Marciano? He's a pure Masshole” Dana’s husband budded in smoothly.

You nodded, “Brockton ain’t Boston” you shrugged, refusing to have another nickname of a Sylvester Stallone character, “On the other hand, we could go has Rocky and Adrian for Halloween next year” you added looking at Jack.

“I’m not putting on a red beret”.

“You’re breaking my heart Adrian” you feigned a Stallone voice only for Jack to shut you up with a kiss.

“Do you guys have a date set?” Bridget popped the question everyone was dying to ask for the past two months since he proposed in October- after three back to back surgeries and while you were eating pizza from the same place your old apartment was next to.

You half-loathed the memory as your hair was greasy and disheveled, the makeup you had on was haphazardly wiped off with the spare makeup wipes you left in your glove compartment, your reading glasses on, and you had just pounded down a Dr. Pepper and needed to burp.

“Not yet, I’d get married to her in the damn courthouse tomorrow but this one’s insistent on a ‘longer engagement’” he mimicked you.

You sighed, “I want to get married in Nantucket- or Rhode Island, heaven forbid I want both our families there except his brother” you breathed the last part.

“What’s wrong with Abbot’s brother?” Heather inquired, Dana nodding as she wanted to know as well.

“You wanna tell them about Thanksgiving or do I?” you pressed, looking back to Jack.

He exhaled, “My brother made a comment on her ass- told her she must be pregnant ‘cuz her hips were wider than normal”.

“Not just that!” you added on, “He told Jack’s mom only for her to touch my stomach and ask if it was a boy or girl, it was a complete hazing ritual!” you laughed as you recalled the memory.

You did take a pregnancy test that night, only for it to be negative. Jack did assure you it’s probably just your ovulation coming, he had a bad- well good habit of knowing your cycle just by your body.

During follicular, your nipples would darken, skin become a bit firmer than usual and you felt at ease from the in between of your period to ovulation. Luteal, especially the few days leading up to your period, you craved salt, and sex- a mix of the two and you’d have him laying down as you sucked him dry, you were insatiable during the time, your breasts heavier. Your period came during the night most times, so you’d wear a pad just in case the day before, sometimes you’d beat the hormones and start first thing in the morning, he noticed your hair would dry faster after the shower and you’d sleep more peacefully with his hand right onto your bare lower stomach. Ovulation sent him on a frenzy, truth be told he didn’t care about where in your cycle you were, if you wanted him, you had him. Your breasts were fuller, you felt more energized and sure enough, your hips widened.

“Yikes” Robby broke the silence as they all digested what was told, “So, Nantucket?”.

“He wants Martha’s Vineyard but even for both of our salaries and older families, all that accommodation may just send us straight to the gutter” you elaborated, “Should’ve gotten married when I was 30 and we weren’t on the verge of a recession” you joked.

“Just for that, no wedding ‘til you’re forty”.

“Speaking of big birthdays, what y'all doing for your 50th?” Dana smiled and nodded towards Jack.

“Nasty sex and barbecue?” you joked, Jack pointed at you just as he was about to speak up.

“And that is why I’m marrying her” Jack laughed, “It’s in a year, we’ll figure it out”.

The Steelers ending up advancing in the playoffs, you did eventually prove to Jack the cherry tie, only under a different roof. The next day, you all were swamped during the night shift as it approached 10 pm.

You couldn’t lie, the engagement led you to be far more touchy. At any given moment, you wanted your hands on Jack.

“40 year old male, TMGSW, he was stable upon arrival but during transport he kept crashing, gave him 50 of fent” the EMT ran over, it was an odd night to be running the trauma rooms.

Jack loved seeing you work, technically, you were his boss after Greene handed over the trauma department to you. He got a kick out of it as he claimed it made him a trophy husband.

As the EMTs left, you and Ellis took over as you did an exam, only to realize his blood wasn’t circulating to his legs. “Blood flows unstable, can you call and see if there’s an OR available?”.

“They’re all filled, three with general, four with peds, I think a couple are ortho” an intern responded, only gaining a ‘tsk from you. Gloria gave a briefing to the surgical department earlier this week on maintenance in the operating rooms, leading for several of them to be closed.

“Fuck it, gown me, authorized personnel only, Parker you with me on this?” you shook your head.

“Want me to get Abbot?” she clarified as the nurses gowned and gloved both of you.

“No- I need all the interns and med students to go to Doctor Abbot or Bridget, they’ll place you on a different case” you announced, clearing the room. “Have you ever seen a thoracotomy?” you asked.

“You and Abbot did one together my intern year,” Parker responded.

“Good, so you know I’m not bullshitting” you replied, “I need a surgical tray and rib spreader”.

It took 30 minutes for you and Parker to complete the patient’s thoracotomy, never before have you seen her that intrigued. She held a heart in her hands- a beating heart.

“Excellent work Doctor Ellis” you told her, removed your gown and gloves as you sent the man to the ICU for observation and comfortability, you forced them to give him a bed.

“I don’t know who’s more badass, you or Abbot”.

“He’s got the combat medic thing to bring to the table, I have the magic hands” you joked, dismissing her to do her own work as you met up with Jack at the nurse’s station.

“Your future wife just did a thoracotomy successfully with Ellis” you lightly bragged, your hand finding its way to his bicep, giving it a squeeze. Jack smirked, removing his eyes from the charts.

“You know our shift isn’t over until 7 right?” he teased.

“I’m on an adrenaline high, sorry for being so needy for my insanely sexy fiance” you breathed, only to hear the beloved voice of none other than Myrna.

“I hear congratulations are in order for the happy couple!” you both haven't seen Myrna since before the engagement, she usually spends her times with the day shift.

“Not married yet Myrna, he’s still all yours” you responded to her, your hand finding itself resting on his forearm as he continued to chart.

“Honey, lock him down, there’s patients all over the place ready to take him” she smiled at you, “If you guys have a daughter what will her name be?”.

“Haven’t decided yet Myrna” Jack intervened, “Might just have to get those baby name books from the gift shop” he looked into your eyes as he said the last part.

Myrna wheeled off, leaving you two to yourselves. Jack was still doing yours and his charts which he seldomly enjoyed, took the heat off him while it could. Your hand caressed up and down his forearm, a bruise was forming on where the punch landed.

“How’s the arm baby?” you whispered to him.

“Fine, a little sore, nothing I haven’t felt” he told you, “You know you’ve gotten exceptionally clingy” he added, only for you to remove your hand when you noticed, “It’s not a bad thing, the amount of years I resisted, I’m surprised I haven’t taken you in a spare room”.

“I don’t know… It just feels good” you confessed, “You’re all mine and I got something tangible to prove it”.

“Me being around all the time wasn’t tangible enough? Or the nurses gossiping about our dirty talk that’s enough for a HR complaint if this department was anyway normal?” he quirked a brow.

“Give me your children and we’ll have another tangible thing” you teased.

“Playing with fire Doctor L/n” he responded.

“Oh you love it Doctor Abbot”.

Since August you and Jack had some instances where you thought you were pregnant, ever since Heather told you about her miscarriage, you refused to see a fertility doctor until you’ve run out of every possible option. However, your gynecologist said you were in good shape fertility wise, she made the claim that the more you expect it, the less chance it’ll happen.

Nevertheless, Jack got his labs done, perfectly normal, if anything, his sperm count was high. His therapist was shocked when he brought it up last session, thinking the trauma of his job and past were enough to shock his nerves and stunt fertility. Maybe it was all just timing.

Until Jack got even more panels done, only to reveal that his therapist was correct, he was the problem. Not having the heart to tell you, he saved it for a better day to come, hoping it was all temporary.

The shift continued on, bar brawls and black ice, in true Pittsburgh fashion during football season. He drove you both home, seeing you dozed off in the passenger seat, he loved the days he worked with you.

Jack enjoyed carrying you, though his back would hate him for it later, came with the job description. Your bags on both sides of him and you asleep in his arms as he made his way to the bedroom.

You groaned upon him sitting you down on the living chair. Remembering the one nonnegotiable rule.

Never take work to bed- physically and metaphorically speaking. He took your scrubs off, almost ready to give you a sponge bath because you gained clarity and consciousness. You did the rest, after extensive nights, you both settled for showering together, he washed you, you washed him. He gripped onto the support bar and you, it was a routine. He loved it. Gave him a chance to feel you all alone, he loved sex with you, just as much as he loved being nonsexually intimate with you.

The man would cut your toenails if asked, when you get sick once a year he’d gladly discard the tissues filled with snot, and didn't mind a single thing about living life with you.

As he brushed his teeth while sitting on the stool, you took it upon yourself to massage his shoulders.

“You know when you get lab work done it gets sent to my work email?” you brought up, kneading the knots in his shoulders as your comment made him anxious. He chose to remain silent and you understood, “Baby” you honestly didn't know about the labwork until you had to contact a patient to see if she could come in for a follow up.

He spat out the toothpaste, feeling your sensitivity towards him, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath before finally choosing to speak. “It could be temporary, maybe I just need to lower my stress levels”.

You looked at him through the mirror before crouching down to be at eye level with him in your eyes, staring into his eyes. “You know I love you regardless of if we have kids or not” you told him, “Don’t beat up yourself over things that are minuscule”.

“I want them just as much as you do” Jack sighed, resting his forehead on yours, gripping the nape of your neck, “I have an appointment on Monday, gonna see what’s going on with me”.

You sighed, “Maybe it’s a sign for an extended vacation” you hinted, “Get away for a few weeks, come back home to me…”.

“Like I’d go anywhere without you” he scoffed, only to realize the look on your face was sure “You’re not serious are you?”.

“Babe, we're together 24/7, it’s good to have your own time. Away from sperm tests, OB-GYNEs all up in there, fuck and work, Jack Abbot you’re not a soldier anymore sir” you told him, lightly joking, “For the past month you’ve been working on adrenaline-infused autopilot. I love you, but you can rest sometimes you know?”.

When you were met with silence you decided to speak up again, handing him an envelope with a plane ticket to Tulum that you hid in your gym bag. “Take a break, relax. At least sometime in the near future, I’m not going anywhere- hell I might just have Heather fill in for you so I don’t sleep alone”

“Baby..” he opened the envelope, “Weren’t we saving this trip for Fourth of July?”.

“Already cleared it all with Bridget and Dana, I’m taking your caseload” you shrugged, you had the idea of him going on a vacation alone since last year, knowing he needed it. “You leave in a week from today” you smiled at him as relief washed over him, “It’s only for a week but when you get back maybe you and Robby can have something together, regain your groove”.

“Honey, I have my groove” he nodded, “I can’t go to Tulum without you”.

“Eh, we’ll do Cancun during the summer, a couple weeks, go exploring” you shrugged, “Have poolside sex in the private pool, fuck me proper” you whispered in his ear. “Oh! And the food”.

“You have quite the dirty mouth”.

“I wonder who influenced me”.

Truth of the matter was, you wanted to surprise him for his birthday. Wanted to throw a bigger get together than what you both originally planned and the only way Jack wouldn’t be at home or in Pittsburgh is if you were both on vacation or his brother convinced him to spend more than 2 hours with him.

“That 400k a year really does work wonders” he commented, “You can’t just go with me?”.

“Then it wouldn’t be alone time would it?” you told him, helping him get up from the stool holding him secured by the elbow. “Let me do this for you”.

He nodded, “You sure you can handle both our caseloads though?” letting you lead the way to the bed. “It’s just a huge ask hon”.

“Nothing I haven’t had before” you shrugged, letting him sit on the edge of the bed, “Don’t worry about baby” you noticed his sense of worry, “Plus when you get back, birthday sex”

“Oh god” he groaned, smiled from the thought but also realized he will be 66 at the kid’s graduation if you guys have a kid now after doing the math.

But that would certainly be a miracle.

“49 isn’t that big of a deal” he spoke up, placing you between his leg and stump, planting kisses on your lotioned stomach.

“It is with the year we had” you ran your fingers through his grey curls. Hands never leaving him. You weren't wrong, with Pitfest and your near breakup, this past Halloween when you got alcohol poisoning after a stressful week, the week after Thanksgiving when Jack had inconsoble back pain from stress and work. Everything positive was a big deal.

The rest of the week passed, you had dropped Jack off at the airport Tuesday night, telling him to text you when he made it to Denver for his layover. He didn’t wanna leave you, but you knew it would be best for his own sanity.

It was an interesting week without Jack. He got hooked on facetiming you every single night, sometimes twice a day, before and after he showered. Most of the time you were swamped at work, trying to not show your stress visibly. He knew it beyond the screen, could see the stress lines form between your brows, the lack of sleep prevalent under your eyes.

“Baby just go home” he sighed, he knew Gloria was on your ass the entire week and since you were already working overtime- 2 hours to be exact, the surgical department had separate scheduling most days. The logical decision would be to book it. Jack was awake bright and early for a tour in the cenotes of Tulum, it was 7:30 for you and 6:30 for him.

You nodded, holding your phone towards the ceiling as you talked to your patient Sadie, she came in with a kitchen knife lodged in her wrist. She was a new mom and the sleep deprivation and postpartum only led to her lack of concentration while cooking.

“Babe, I’ll call you back when I get home, gotta check up on my new mom” you told him, he looked calm and tanned through the phone. Couldn’t deny your mind, your future husband looked perfect. He understood you better than anyone, understood your job and life.

“Okay, stay safe, I love you” he told you over the phone, he knew you were tired to the point where it didn’t register and you just hung up, your brain on autopilot.

“Hey hon, everything okay? Want me to get you anything? Any questions?” You asked lightly, checking her I.V. and antibiotics.

“Do you know when I’m getting discharged? My sister’s at home but she’s leaving at 6:50 before my husband gets off work” she muttered, her throat dry from the intubation tube during surgery.

“The knife was poking near your ulnar artery, a centimeter closer, you’d be in grave danger in a matter of minutes. Your body took a considerable amount of an adrenaline boost that led your blood pressure to skyrocket and your heart to go into what we call a silent heart attack” you told her, “Thankfully we caught it as it occurred and were able to reverse any damage but two operations in less than 24 hours- especially a strenuous one in the heart, I morally and medically can’t discharge you for at least two days” you looked at her in the eye, “I’m going to ask Bridget, my charge nurse, to transfer you to the post-op wing, it’s a bigger room and more comfortable- if not, I’ll go there myself to get you a bed”.

“You’re a godsend” she sighed, her eyes swelling up with tears, “Do you have one?”.

“Hm?”.

“A baby” she clarified.

“Oh no- not yet” you smiled at her, standing at the edge of her bed.

“You’re going to be an amazing mother” she complimented.

“Thank you” you breathed, “Day shift staff will be coming in a few minutes. I’ll ask my resident Doctor Mohan to check up on you, she’s a really smart and kind person, very easy to talk to” you smiled back at her. You needed a coffee, swearing you would pass out behind the wheel.

It took a few minutes while you were back at the computer ready to clock out to realize you hung up on Jack without saying “I love you”. That was enough for you to start crying at the computer, tired and overwhelmed, and just in time for Gloria and Robby to walk up to you, greeting you with a good morning.

“You okay Rocky?” Robby quirked a brow, placing a coffee cup right next to you.

“Doctor L/n, go home, you’re almost 3 hours overtime” Gloria spoke up, earning a concerned look from Dana, Heather, Robby, and Samira.

“Do you want me to drive you home?” Whitaker blurted, the poor kid, heart in the right place except his shift was going to start in 5 minutes.

“Nah it’s okay kid, I’m fine” you wiped your tears, they couldn’t tell if your eyes were bloodshot from the tears or lack of sleep.

“I’m going to ask if Emery can fill in for your surgical cases, Jamie can take Jack’s workload” Dana told you, “Now get the hell out of here before we call your union rep”.

You chuckled, getting your bag from the corner of the desk, letting your hair down for the first time in hours. “Doctor Mohan, I have a new mom, accidentally stabbed herself with a kitchen knife- the adrenaline triggered her BP to boost and she had an MI while on the table. She’s in South 3, I told her you’d be the perfect doctor to talk to when I clock out. Please check up on her?” you spoke to her as you walked off.

“No problem!”.

You made your way to Jack’s truck in the parking lot, choosing his truck over your car because it smelt like him all over.

He'll be back soon; you mumble to yourself. Made all the exhaustion and stress feel a little bit tolerable.

dividers by @cafekitsune

anon #1: Jack Abbot x fem reader. Everyone at the Pitt is having drinks at some bar after the shift. Until some assholes got touchy and angry when one of the girls and she just defended them despite having the boys over too. Jack only observe since he knows his gf can handle it. He would interfere when things got out of hand. Badass gf, asshole, violence. Do however you want to. Thanks!!! :)))

anon #2: Hey!! Love all your fic for Jack Abbot❤️❤️ Can I request Jack Abbot x fem reader? Whoever loves language is touched and Jack just accepts the fact that she is. Especially when she visits the Pitt, she would be close to him, hold his hand/arm/back/every where she could touch and Jack just let her despite everyone who knew him, that he's never letting anyone touch him like that. Just something cute, soft, kisses, suggestive. Thanks!!! :)))

#jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot smut #jack abbot angst #the pitt #michael robinavitch #the pitt x reader #x reader #shawn hatosy #vanilleandclove

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krosiefics · 9 months ago

Text

i wanna see you naked • yang jeongin

M D N I 18+

Synopsis: You and Jeongin decide to play two truths and a lie, taking shots of soju as a punishment. Who knew that with all the drinking Jeongin would confess his fantasies about you.

WC: 2k

Tags/Warnings: afab!reader, softdom!jeongin, bsf!jeongin, pure smut, pwp, intoxicated sex FULLY CONSENSUAL, piv, unprotected sex (DON’T DO THAT…also pee after sex guys), creampie, breeding kink(?), grinding, cunnilingus (clothed cunnilingus), fingering, hair pulling, doggystyle, light spanking, not proof read

a/n: YES THIS IS INSPIRED BY HIS SOLO STAGE BECAUSE WTF WAS THAT…Baby Bread nuh uh more like Daddy Toast…sorry-look I know Jeongin’s saying “call you my hallucination” (????) I think…it’s something hallucinations- but let’s all admit we ALL heard ‘I wanna see you naked’

“Ugh, I’m so bored!” You groaned, tossing your head back. You sat on the floor in front of the sofa while your best friend played and braided your hair behind you. “Hey, isn’t me doing your hair fun?” The black hair boy with a bleached spot commented. You turned your head, shooting him a playful glare. “You’re the one braiding it.”

“Fine, fine. What if we play a game?” Jeongin hummed, a piece of your hair unbraiding itself when his fingers loosened. “Ooh, two truths and a lie!” You say excitedly, giving him the strand of hair that had fallen against the nape of your neck, “I’ll start!”

“You suck at braiding hair. I don’t like your weirdly spotted hair…and,” you begin to ponder a third statement, “and I think your dimples are cute.”

You smile to yourself, a small tug of your hair causes you to scowl, “Hey!”

“I do not suck at braiding hair, I’m just learning!” Jeongin scoffs in a jokingly offended tone.

You turn over your shoulder again, Jeongin’s grasp on your hair seizing yet again. You give him an unamused look, shaking your head.

“What’s the lie Innie?” You prompt him, “I dunno…you’ve never called my simple cute before so that’s weird. And you haven’t really cared about my hair…I’m gonna say it’s the hair one?” Jeongin stated in a questioning manner, shrugging as he attempted to restart the braid- again. You pull your hair away, swiveling your body to face Jeongin.

“Correct, I do like your weirdly spotted hair. What do you want?” Jeongin gave you a confused look, “What do you mean ‘what do I want’?”

“Well you won that round, what do you want?”

“Oh we’re getting penalties?” Jeongin hummed in amusement, his interest peaking in this game, “Go get me one of those mochis you hide, I know you have some.”

You frown at him before getting up from your spot on the floor to retrieve the doughy dessert. A few more rounds of the game went on before the two of you decided to turn it into a drinking game, a shot of soju for every loss. You’ve lost track of how many rounds have gone by, your mind too fuzzy from the alcohol to recall.

“Okay, my turn again!” Jeongin grinned, he wasn’t nearly as drunk as you, having given you insane scenarios to choose from and getting almost every round of yours right. “I’ve seen you naked.”

“What?!” Your eyes shoot open, Jeongin’s statement sobering you slightly. “You want to see me naked.”

Your cheeks flush red, cause it’s true- though you’d never admit it. You must be a madman to not think that your best friend is hot, and that fact alone has made you have some thoughts about him.

“And, I wanna see you naked.”

Jeongin’s cheeks had a pink hue, though you couldn’t tell if it was from the alcohol. “What?” You breathed out shakily, you could feel yourself become aroused, you blamed the soju for that.

“I…I wanna see you naked.” Jeongin repeated himself, his face turning a darker shade of pink now.

You had no clue what possessed you to strip yourself of your loose t-shirt, but you blamed it on the alcohol. Jeongin watched your every move as you rid yourself of the material, his lip caught between his teeth. The sight alone sent arousal straight to his hardening cock, twitching in his pants.

You tossed the shirt somewhere onto the floor nearby, barring your bra covered chest to Jeongin. The black haired boy stared at you, his eyes grazing every bit of your exposed skin. He hesitantly brought his hand up before trailing his index finger along your bra strap.

Jeongin’s fingers trailed along the top trim of the bra, following the curve of your breast. Your breath hitches and he stops, Jeongin gives you a knowing look, you simply shake your head assuring him to go on. “Can I…can I take this off?” He stared up at you with flushed cheeks and a lazy soft gaze.

“Only if you,” You say, you bring your hand up to the hem of his white t-shirt implying your want, “take this off too.” Jeongin happily complies, a wide grin plastered across his face as he lifted and tugged his shirt over his head. “So I guess you do wanna see me naked.” He grins, you let out a playful huff.

Jeongin watches as your chest heaves and your thighs rub together under his eyes. Jeongin shifted closer towards you, “Is this okay?” His breath fanned across your cheek to your ear, you simply nodded in response. Jeongin’s fingers unclasped your bra from the back, the straps falling off your shoulders before the full undergarment was discarded.

The boy in front of you just stared in awe at your body, his eyes ranking up and down each curve of your breasts and waist. Growing timid under his gaze, you cross your arms in front of your body.

“Are you uncomfortable?” He asks, his hand reaching to rest gently on your knee.

“No,” You breath out shakily, “I dunno…I know it’s weird but…I want it so bad- fuck I want you so bad.” You ramble, your trembling hands cupping his face. Oh how you wanted to lean in and kiss his pink lips. “Fucking hell.” Jeongin breathed out before connecting your lips together.

His lips were rough against yours, every ounce of lust and desire fueling the kiss. You raised from your spot on the floor, climbing onto Jeongin’s lap, straddling his thighs. Jeongin’s hands are immediately on your body, trailing them along your hips to your waist. His hands trailed slowly towards your ass, but never quite grabbed you.

Out of frustration you took his hands in yours and placed them on your ass, letting him know that it’s okay. Jeongin’s rough hands squeezed the fatty flesh before rubbing the area. You moan into his mouth when you feel his erection poking your clothed cunt.

“Fuck,” You bite your lip, pulling away from the kiss and resting your head against his. “Wanted this for so long, Innie.” You whine as his hands cup your breast, his fingers flicking your hardened buds. “Shit baby, I’ve wanted this too!” Jeongin says, his hips bucking into you.

Your hands fumble to his waistband, trying to desperately free him of the clothing. Jeongin’s lips attached to your neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin there. Once you tugged at his slacks, he lifted his hips, letting you slide the pants along with his underwear down.

“Fuck, can I?” You say, pulling away from his lips once more as you stared at his erected cock. “Next time babe.” Jeongin said, watching you with amusement as you drooled over his cock. He swiftly flipped you onto your back, his fingers going to the waistband of your loose shorts.

You helped Jeongin slide them down your shorts, as you were gonna reach to pull your underwear down, he stopped you. “Don’t.” Jeongin simply stated, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

He maneuvered himself downwards till he was settled between your legs. Jeongin left kisses along your thighs up towards your heat. As he stared at your panties, he noticed a wet patch of your arousal stained on them, a sense of pride swelled over him knowing that he was the cause of it.

Jeongin suddenly leaned in and licked a stripe up your folds, a gasped moan falling from your lips as he continued lapping up your covered cunt. “Ah, Innie…they’ll be ruined.” You could feel the vibrations of his chuckle against your throbbing cunt, “I’ll buy you new ones, yeah?” He said, his hand making its way between your legs, slipping them under your panties and circling around your entrance.

“Ah, fuck Innie.” You moaned out as his finger nudged your panty to the side allowing his younger to finally meet your leaking pussy. Jeongin worked his finger in and out of your hole, stretching you by pushing another in, curling them at the right angle.

“Innie-“ You whined, neediness taking out your body, “Jeongin- stop!” And he did, Jeongin looked at you with round eyes, worried that he did something wrong or that he hurt you. “Are you okay?!” He says, pulling his finger out and wiping it on the couch cushion.

“I’m fine Innie, but if you don’t fuck me right now, so help me God.” Jeongin let out a sigh of relief before a small chuckle escaped his lips, “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He said climbing up to your face and leaving a kiss on your cheek.

You felt your face flush, “I- Jeongin…don’t just say stuff like that I- what?!” The words you formed in your head went numb on your tongue. Jeongin simply bit his lip cockily. “You…ugh.” You groaned, pushing his body off of yours, straddling his hips once again before taking his cock in your hand and dragging it along your wet folds.

“Oh fuck.” Jeongin hissed, his hands flying to your hips, gripping tightly. Every trace of his cockiness was wiped away. You could feel him throbbing underneath you, the veins along his cock protruding at the need for friction. “Babe, don’t start something you can’t finish.” Jeongin warns, squeezing the flesh at your hip.

“Who says I can’t finish it?” You taunt, a playful smirk on your face. Before you could blink, Jeongin had flipped you over the couch, your hands pinned above your head with one of his hands as his other guided the tip of his cock to your entrance.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Jeongin smirks, barely pushing his tip in before pulling out again. “This is still okay right? You don’t need me to stop-“ “Yang Jeongin! I swear if you ask me that one more time- if I want you to stop I’ll tell you, just fuck me already.”

With your confirmation, Jeongin flushes out against your ass as he pushes himself into your warm heat. Erotic moans falling from both of your mouths. “Shit, you’re so tight baby.”

“Fuck, I feel so full.” You whine as Jeongin starts thrusting into you.

Jeongin watches as your tits bounce with each thrust he gives. His eyes linger on your ass as it smacks against his pelvis. A sudden smack echoed throughout the living space, followed by a sting of pain on your asscheek. Jeongin watched as the flesh moved under his touch, how it reddened so quickly, how you moaned as he spanked you.

“You're so pretty like this, bent over and taking my cock like this.” Jeongin’s words go straight to your cunt, that familiar knot forming in your stomach.

“Holy fuck I’m gonna cum.” You whimpered as Jeongin continued pounding you from behind. You were suddenly pulled back by your hair, forcing you to look up. “You gonna cum on my cock, doll?” Jeongin mumbled, his grip on your hair loosening so that he doesn’t hurt you.

“Mmm, fuck yes Innie! Please can I cum.” You cried out as your climax neared. “Cum on my cock baby, you got it.” He encouraged, his pace never faltering. A few more thrust and you orgasmed, a watery liquid wetting the two of you. “Fuck, you’re so sexy- you’re clenching so hard on me, doll.”

“Shit I’m gonna cum- where do you want it?” Jeongin grunted, his fingers retreating from your hair and wrists, gripping your hips yet again for support. “Inside.” You whimpered due to the overstimulation. Jeongin groaned as he filled you up with his seed, resting his head against the back of your shoulder as he emptied out inside of you, “You’re milking my cock so well baby.”

After pulling out and washing up, the two of you just layed there on the sofa in a daze. “So what was the lie?” You broke the silence. Jeongin looked over at you with a small smile, “That I had seen you naked- which I guess now isn’t necessarily a lie anymore.”

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randombush3 · 29 days ago

Text

solo necesitaba estar aquí

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: some much-needed family time is had

Words: 2134

Notes: I got bored and this came to mind

You’re busy. As in, drowning in calls, constantly approached by your juniors, never-seeing-the-light-of-day busy. You don’t even remember the last time you sat down and had dinner with your wife and child. You pay a woman to replace both his mothers.

The sun has already set, the view of orange slowly dimming into darkness especially visible from your newly-obtained corner office. There must be about two more hours left on your schedule today, explaining the fresh coffee on your desk. And you’re tired, but you love this job. It’s worth it.

Your assistant — new, bumbling as he tries to grow accustomed to your discipline and efficiency — appears, phone in-hand.

“Is that New York?” is your immediate question, noting the terror on his face with slight amusement. It always takes a while for the young ones to break.

He shakes his head. The words he mouths are far scarier: it’s your wife.

You stand up.

“Give it to me.” The phone is searing hot, and you know that this is not a call of affection. “Alexia, baby, hi!”

“La profe ha dicho que somos madres terribles.”

You check the date on the screen of your laptop. “Oh, there was that meeting, wasn’t there?”

“You said you’d come.”

“I thought we’d both agreed to send Luisa?” In truth, you had. Alexia is in the most crucial part of the season, playing matches that decide her glory (and her mood during summer). “Did you go?”

“No. But at least I was home to ask him how it went.”

You rub your temples. Your assistant has taken his cue to leave, hovering on the other side of the glass door as if it will save him from the bomb that’s about to go off. “Okay. Well, what did he say? Are you with him right now?”

“Luisa’s is getting him ready for bed,” Alexia replies with a deep sigh. You gather there is no good news to give. “He told her that he never sees us. No malice intended — a simple: mis mamás son tan importantes. And the teacher took it as, mis mamás son demasiado importantes.”

“He didn’t lie.”

“And you don’t feel guilty?”

You think back to the last time you spent uninterrupted time with your son. It must have been Alexia’s last match — no, you had to leave because of a crisis in Tokyo. Maybe before that?

“We’ve spent the last seven years being parents he can be proud of. But he… doesn’t even see us.”

“You’re home right now!”

“Just in time to kiss him goodnight!”

Your breath hitches.

That’s supposed to be enough. That’s supposed to be the line that closes the argument, the past where she tells you it’s okay, that you’re trying. That your intentions are good and true and she isn’t a saint either.

But she doesn’t say anything.

A sudden wave of exhaustion hits you, and you find your desk chair, constantly warmed and broken in, and sink back into it, the city glowing behind you like a silent reprimand. You lean forwards, elbow on the desk, fingers still pressed against your temple.

She’s on speaker now. It almost feels like she’s in the room with you.

“I thought we were doing the right thing,” you say finally, quieter now. “Working this hard. Building something for him.”

There’s a pause. A cavity opens up between the two of you. Alexia no longer agrees. “He just wants parents.”

It stings more than it should. Because deep down, you knew it. You’ve known it for a while — in the drawings where Luisa is front and centre, where you and Alexia are smiling stock figures tucked away in the corner. You knew it when he started calling her mamá Luisa, without hesitation or confusion.

“He told her,” Alexia continues, voice breaking just slightly, “that sometimes he pretends we’re home. That he hears the door open and he thinks it’s one of us — and he gets all… excited, just for it to be a delivery or a friend, or the neighbours checking in on him.”

You let out a long breath, eyes falling shut. “He’s seven. He shouldn’t know disappointment like that.”

Silence. But she’s still on the line. You can hear her breathing — steady, controlled. Like she’s bracing herself to say something worse.

“I have a few matches left this season,” she says. “Then I’m home until the Euros.”

“And I have Tokyo, then Berlin. After that, a quarterly review. Shareholder summit in—”

“No,” she interrupts. “You have a son. Who misses you. That comes first.”

You want to argue. You want to say it’s not that easy, that you don’t just get to drop everything. But maybe it is that easy. Maybe the hard part is admitting you’ve made the wrong choice more times than you can count.

“I’ll clear the week after Tokyo,” you say finally. “We’ll take him to that dinosaur park he keeps asking about. No phones. Just us.”

“Both of us,” Alexia says firmly. “No pulling out last minute.”

“I promise.”

Another silence — but a warmer one, less weighted. For a moment, it’s just the two of you breathing, the world quietly changing as you make your decision.

“I miss you,” she says softly.

And suddenly, more than the job, more than the office, more than the city stretched out in front of you — you just want to go home.

…

He squeals with delight as you march through arrivals, Alexia unable to control his surge into the crowd to attach himself to you. Hands meet your leg and you scoop him up, surprised by how much heavier he is, pulling him into you as you make your way to your wife.

That conversation a few months ago has been a much-needed catalyst for change.

Tokyo was good, perfect for networking, but it wasn’t home.

It's not this.

“I missed you, campeón,” you whisper in his ear as you reach Alexia, smiling at the slight sheen in her eyes. “I’m so glad I could come home early.”

Alexia doesn’t need to respond for her answer to be known.

The next morning, you wake to the sound of tiny feet sprinting down the hallway and slamming into the door of your bedroom.

“¡Hoy es el día de los dinosaurios!” he yells, muffled through the wood like some kind of pint-sized town crier. “Y tú lo prometiste, MAMÁ. ¡LO PROMETISTE!”

Alexia groans from beside you, face buried deep in the pillow, muscles aching from the dregs of the season and the thought of the build-up to the Euros. “What have we done?”

“We’ve entered legally binding verbal contract,” you mutter, already reaching for your phone to cancel the one remaining telecon you hadn’t yet axed. You text your assistant a quick: Push everything back, I’m being held hostage by a T-Rex.

The reply comes instantly: Understood. Good luck, boss.

…

At the dinosaur park, all bets are off.

He spots a rickety, questionably-safe ‘Dino Dig Zone’ and points with an index rivalling Augustus’ ad locutio in the Prima Porta. “There. I’m going to dig for bones. I need gloves. And goggles. And snacks.”

Unsurprisingly, there’s a board listing the prices of those exact items. Alexia gives you one glance before nudging you towards the till.

You buy him the whole kit — gloves three sizes too big, a neon-green hard hat, safety goggles with actual working headlamps. He looks like a very tiny paleontologist sponsored by a very eccentric energy drink company. You and Alexia exchange a look, but say nothing.

Fifteen minutes later, he’s not digging. He’s sitting on top of the dig site, dramatically narrating the excavation like David Attenborough. You have no idea where he learnt the technical terms, but maybe your background checks on Luisa didn’t include her supposed paleontology degree.

“Here,” he says, pointing at what is very obviously a plastic ribcage, “we find the remains of the mamasaurio, a terrifying beast who never misses football training and always scores the best goals.”

Alexia snorts. “Okay, I like this version of me.”

You’re not so lucky.

“And next to it — the dinochefejecutiva. She’s very rare to see. She lives mostly in airports.”

You choke on your iced coffee.

The gift shop is a disaster. You tell him he can pick one souvenir. He picks seven (one for every year you’ve missed, apparently — he’s a master manipulator). Alexia leans down to bargain with him while you tap out and retreat to the picnic benches outside. She emerges twenty minutes later, dazed, holding two dinosaur hoodies, a talking plush stegosaurus, a fossil-shaped backpack, glow-in-the-dark dino socks, and a hat with T-REX CEO embroidered in sparkly thread.

“He hustled me,” she whispers to you.

You smirk. “It’s not hard.”

He wears everything at once for the rest of the day, waddling around like an overburdened prehistoric fashion icon, munching on overpriced churros and announcing to anyone who will listen that today is his yes day. You and Alexia trail behind him, laughing, holding hands, slowly starting to believe you might actually remember how to do this — this parenting thing, this family thing, this loving-each-other-and-showing-up thing.

When he falls asleep in the car, surrounded by stuffed animals and crumbs and the remains of a dino tail-shaped lollipop, Alexia turns to you.

“You know,” she says, voice soft with something like peace, “I think this was the best investment we’ve ever made.”

You glance at the back seat — at your snoring, sugar-comatose son — and then at your wife, radiant even after she was forced to hold a melting ice-lolly that stained her white t-shirt.

You smile. “Returns have been excellent so far.”

Dinner that night is chaotic, but surprisingly demanded even after a day of junk food that nearly sent your two-time Ballon d’Or into a mental breakdown.

He’s still riding the sugar high from the park, sprawled across the kitchen floor in his dino hoodie, tiny plastic stegosaurus tucked into the crook of his arm like he gave birth to it. You’re rummaging through cabinets blindly — unsure when Luisa last reorganised them and finding her system incredibly confusing.

Alexia’s leaning against the counter, eyeing the situation with a suspicious mix of amusement and concern. “Are you sure about this?” she asks as you pull out spaghetti, three different cheeses, and something you think is tomato sauce but might be expired salsa.

“Yep,” you lie.

Halfway through the prep, he finally looks up from his playtime and asks, “Where’s Luisa?”

Alexia freezes mid-chop. You glance over your shoulder and smile, holding up your sauce-stained wooden spoon like it’s proof of competence. “You do know that we can cook, right?”

He blinks. Then, slowly: “Que va.”

“Excuse you,” Alexia says, squinting at him like he’s just insulted her entire bloodline. “Mamá once made lasagna so good it made grown men cry.”

“Did they cry because of the cheese?” he asks seriously.

“Emotionally? Yes,” you cut in. “Digestively? Also yes.”

Dinner ends up being… edible. Barely. The spaghetti is overcooked, the sauce has a suspicious kick that might be from Alexia mistaking god-knows-what for paprika, and the garlic bread ends up more like garlic crackers. But he eats it anyway — every bite — grinning like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

“You’re both kinda good at this,” he says between chews.

“Kinda good?” you echo, with faux offence.

“Like… Luisa would do it faster.” He shrugs at Alexia’s raised eyebrows. “But this is nice.”

You and Alexia exchange a glance over his head, soft and knowing. She reaches under the table to squeeze your knee.

“Did you have fun today?” you ask, hoping your tentativeness is well-hidden.

He nods with enthusiasm.

“Let’s do it again tomorrow!”

He’s raised in his seat and almost rearing to go.

“How about bedtime first before we plan more yes-days?” Alexia negotiates, this time successfully.

Later, after bedtime stories and lights out and one too many requests for water, you crawl into bed next to her. The silence is warm and easy, the soft glow of her bedside lamp all you need to help you relax. Her back presses into your chest, and you bury your face into her shoulder, finally relaxed in a way you haven’t been in months.

And then, her voice, low and a little smug: “Now that you’re home…”

You smile against her skin. “Yeah?”

She turns just slightly, her hand brushing across your hip, teasing. “I’ve got a few… yes-days of my own in mind.”

You let out a laugh, quiet and breathless. “You drive a hard bargain, capitana.”

She smirks, settling deeper into your arms. “Better keep up, dinochefejecutiva. Or I’m benching you.”

“Not the bench,” you whisper dramatically, already pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “Anything but the bench.”

She hums, wicked and sweet. “Then show me you’ve still got game.”

#randombush3 #woso #woso x reader #barca femeni #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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jxwl4k · 1 month ago

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Hii I think your writings are rlly nice!! Can I get a lil writing where Bakugo always kinda liked reader as more than friends during UA but fell in love even more as he meets her again from the timeskip cuz she’s only gotten more beautiful and all? So during the class reunion they catch up w/ each other and after, he offers to drive her home and ends up confessing there which she accepts

Thought it’d be a cute idea haha thank uu :)

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ More than before .𖥔 ݁ ˖

☘︎ . . . genre. soft romance, friends to lovers, reunion

☘︎ . . . pairings. Bakugou x fem!reader

☘︎ . . . requested? yes by anon

⤿bakugou reunites with yn whose a close friend he secretly likes back in high school.

The last time Bakugou saw you, you were waving goodbye in the golden light of your graduation day laughing with Mina, your hair caught in the wind, your smile bright despite the ache of everyone going their separate ways.

He’d never said anything back then. Not when he thought you looked the prettiest during sparring training with dirt smudged on your cheek. Not when he’d find excuses to walk with you after class, calling it coincidence. Not even when you’d fallen asleep on his shoulder during a late-night strategy session, his heart pounding like he was in battle.

Because back then, he thought… maybe you didn’t see him that way.

The reunion was held in the same training facility UA had gifted the Class of 1-A, now a sleek event space lined with photos from their school years. Bakugou hadn’t wanted to come at first “what’s the damn point?” but Kirishima insisted, and deep down, he was curious.

Then he saw you.

You stepped in wearing a simple outfit, nothing flashy, but it didn’t matter. You looked like you, just… more. More confident. More radiant. Like you’d grown into every ounce of the potential he always knew you had.

“Bakugou?” you called, your eyes lighting up like they used to.

He felt heat crawl up his neck. “Tch. Didn’t think you’d show up.”

You grinned. “Still the same, huh?”

But no he wasn’t. Because when you laughed, it felt different now. It hit deeper.

The reunion buzzed with memories and laughter, but somehow, he kept ending up near you talking, teasing, catching up. You told him about your current agency, about your solo patrols, and the tiny coffee shop you visited every morning. He listened more than he spoke, watching the way your lips curved when you got excited about something.

When the night wrapped up, Bakugou spotted you pulling your jacket tighter as the wind picked up.

“Oi. I’ll drive you home,” he said, almost gruffly.

You blinked, surprised. “Oh? Are you sure?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m not offerin’ again.”

You laughed. “Alright, alright. I’ll take the ride.”

The drive was quiet at first, soft music playing in the background, the city lights casting shadows across your face.

“You really changed,” he muttered, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Hm? In a bad way?”

“Nah,” he said, a little too fast. “In a… damn good way.”

You turned to him, surprised. “You think so?”

“Tch. ‘Course I do.” His grip on the wheel tightened. “I always thought you were somethin’ else. Back in UA, I just never” He exhaled sharply. “never said it. Should’ve, maybe.”

Your heart skipped.

He finally stopped the car in front of your apartment building, engine idling.

“…So I’m sayin’ it now,” he said, still not looking at you. “I liked you back then. Probably more than I should’ve. But now?” His jaw clenched. “Now I’m screwed, ‘cause I think I’m falling all over again worse than before.”

The silence hung for a second.

Then you reached over, your hand resting gently over his.

“You’re not screwed,” you whispered, smiling. “Because I was waiting for you to say that.”

He finally looked at you and there it was. That explosive feeling in his chest, the one he only ever got when he was around you.

“…Guess I should’ve said it sooner,” he muttered.

You leaned in closer, your smile soft. “Guess we’ve got time to make up for it.”

And just like that, Bakugou Katsuki let himself fall — this time, with you right there to catch him.

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starkeyisthelastname · 10 months ago

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had the absolutely SINFUL thought of reader getting pornstar! Rafe to take photos of her pussy after he creampies it for her only fans

ooooo yes 💦😩

You not only filmed for larger porn companies, but had your own little OnlyFans on the side. Thats how you got started and discovered, a viral video of you that found its way on Twitter. You didn’t post as much as you had use to, with professional filming throughout the week taking most of your time. Most not if all your videos were solos or sexy pictures after you had just done on set, and were freshly fucked.

The constant hate you had received after people found out that the pussy slayer himself was fucking you more than once, had made you upset for the first few weeks. You weren’t use to getting blasted on social media, and the spew of jealous bitches seemed to be never ending. If you were truly the only girl Rafe was fucking more than once, then maybe you needed to turn this negative into a positive and play back.

You were a gasping mess per usual, eyes rolled back and legs spread wide as Rafe’s hung cock pounded into your wanting hole. You were so greedy for him, there was no way that his dick was not made for you. As much as you loved getting paid for having sex on camera, it was almost starting to become a nuisance. You had been faking orgasms every scene you filmed that wasn’t Rafe as he had kept his promise of ruining your holes for anyone else.

“You like that shit whore? Who’s fuckin dick you makin a mess on?” Rafe asked through gritted white teeth, his hand giving you a light but firm slap to your cheek as he continued his brutal pounding.

It amazed you how this man could make you dumb on the dick with such ease. It was like you were learning how to talk again while he gave you pipe, your words slurred and broken as you tried to figure it out. Another slap to your sparkly cheek though, had you snapping out of it real quick as his thrusts slowed down. “You really think I’m playin today? You want Rafe Cameron’s nut in your pussy, I suggest you start speaking the fuck up.” His cerulean eyes completely dark, something you had learned about him when he was close to coming undone himself.

You whined pathetically, knowing you did. Every time he filled your pussy up with his seed, it almost made you feel like you belonged to him in such a deeper way. His dirty words were always a catalyst for throwing you over the edge to your climax, your sopping cunt sucking him as you pleaded him to not slow down. “No no no…. don’t slow down. I need it Rafe… I’m makin a mess a-all over your big cock!” You blabbered incoherently, his thrusts speeding back up as soon as you said his name.

Your words didn’t make much sense, but that didn’t matter to you when he squeezed your throat as you came all over him and a few thrusts later he was spilling himself inside you with a string of loud grunts and nasty words. It was when he slowly pulled out of your swollen cunt, that he leaned back to admire his work. “Such a pretty fuckin pussy filled with my cum.” He mumbled, a blissful smile spreading across your beautiful face.

“Take a picture. I wanna see…” You said softly, an idea coming to your head as you reached for your phone. Not only were you uploading these to your OnlyFans for a little refresher and new content, you were about to make all those other hoes big mad by posting it on Twitter.

There were two pictures with the flash on and a 10 second video of Rafe’s digits spreading your pussy lips open to show his cum spilling out of your fucked out hole and onto the sheets of his bed. Anyone who knew Rafe, knew he always wore a distinct gold signet ring on his index finger. So when you uploaded the video to Twitter with the caption ‘Y’all can still be mad😢 but guess who’s getting creampied by him? Not you. 🤣’

Let’s just say… you got your little revenge.

#rafe cameron #pornstar!rafe #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron concepts #rafe concepts #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #obx #obx smut #outer banks

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shadowkoo · 2 months ago

Text

Up In Flames - Part 1

→ Summary: When your sister calls with an emergency, you drop everything to house-sit while she’s out of town. What she forgets to mention is that her fiancé’s friend, a handsome stranger who might have saved your life earlier, is already expecting to stay there too. Awkwardly sharing the space, you manage to get through two weeks with Seungcheol—only to unexpectedly cross paths again when he saves you from another dangerous situation outside your therapist’s office.

Seungcheol, a wildland firefighter, is back in the city taking his leave and debating whether to join Station 17 or return home. While sorting out his own issues, he keeps finding himself in situations where he has to save you—the fiery, stubborn little sister of his best friend’s fiancée who has a terrible habit of calling him the most obnoxious nicknames ever. Despite your resistance to being rescued (and his denial of how much you affect him), the sparks between you two continue to ignite. As you grow closer, it’s only a matter of time before everything goes up in flames.

↠ seungcheol x f.reader | Part 1 = 18.9k (42.7k words total, i’m so sorry but also not really 🗿) | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, action, slow burn, firefighter au, author au, damsel in distress au, ‘let me help you’ wildland firefighter!cheol x ‘i can do it myself’ miss independent yet clumsy!reader

→ Warnings: fire, car accident, extreme burns, graphic & traumatic death of non-significant characters (read at your own risk!), seungcheol suffers from panic attacks and ptsd, solo masturbating (seungcheol gets a lil freaky in the bathroom one morning), grinding in a hot tub, fingering, protected & unprotected sex, multiple sex scenes, oral sex, cheol is a proud muncher, body worship, taking plan b, jealous coups, slight possessive coups, breast play, nipple sucking & biting, dirty talk, soft sex, rough sex, creampie, praise, begging, aftercare, stripping, heavy teasing & banter, tongue fucking, cheol loves to rub himself through your fold, praise kink, semi-public sex (cheol fucks you hard against a firetruck), injury, cuts, smoke inhalation and other dangerous elements (again, please read at your own risk!)

→ Networks: tagged below

@ksmutsociety @k-vanity @lapydiariesnet @keopihausnet

@svthub @thediamondlifenetwork

→ Author Note: thanks to maren @wooahaeproductions and lexi @heechwe for helping me come up with some of these funny nicknames used in here a few months back! and a big thank you to booki @kwanisms for reading this over for me so last minute. this is the first fic of my station 17 collab, check it out here and stay tuned for the next fics from alta @haologram sevń @aaagustd and yannie @wonuwoe!!! dedicated to all my coups girlies, i know you’ll love this <3

⋆˙⟡ m.list ⟡⋆⟡ ao3 ⟡⋆⟡ wips ⟡⋆⟡ updates ⟡⋆⟡ shadow realm ⟡˙⋆

“No, no, no! Oh c’mon! This can’t be happening right now,” you whine, twisting your body so you can see the damage done after hearing the dreadful sound of fabric tearing.

Yep, your pants just ripped. Want to know what’s even worse? Your pink hello kitty underwear is showing right through the large tear on your left butt cheek.

You curse under your breath and pull your shirt down, trying to cover up as much as you can. This would have never happened if you just said no to your best friend and older sister, Kate.

See, Kate is in a very committed, loving relationship, and has been for the past four years. Unlike you, who has been on at least fifty horrible first dates, sometimes even second dates that never seem to go anywhere, in that same time frame.

She set you up with this supposedly amazingly hot, ultra-rich, single and ‘ready to commit’ guy she knew through a friend of a friend, blah blah blah. You should have known then how tonight was going to go. Of all the blind dates you had been on, this one easily became the worst.

It started alright, with a cute Pho restaurant in the middle of downtown being the meeting place. Seojoon waited outside for you with an umbrella since it had started to sprinkle, and even held open the door and helped you in your seat once inside.

But his good manners stopped there. For the rest of the night, he was extremely rude to the wait staff and condescending toward you, making it a miserable experience.

Needless to say, he deserved what you did. After you finally had enough, you not-so-accidentally let a ‘my god, shut the fuck up already’ slip out of your mouth. And yeah, you might have told him he has the emotional intelligence of a toad (and even that was too kind compared to what you really wanted to say).

Quickly after, you excused yourself and were more than ready to leave. But then you saw them. The perfect couple seated in the front half of the restaurant; your ex and the woman he left you for.

Which is why you ended up hiding in the bathroom for fifteen minutes, before deciding that escaping through the small window would be the best option. You used the toilet at leverage to boost yourself up (that was the easy part), gripped onto a nearby tree branch to pull yourself out the window, and then jumped out. It was during the ‘jumping out’ part when your pants got stuck on the branch and proceeded to rip.

The plan wasn’t perfect but it got you out of there, with ripped pants, but what the hell. At least you’re on your way to your car now, rather than being stuck in there with the three most odious people you have ever suffered through knowing.

You make it maybe three blocks before giving up on trying to cover your ass. Whatever, you’re almost back to your car now anyway.

“Oh, what now?” you sigh, digging through your purse for your phone that’s ringing somewhere in there. Your sister’s face lights up the screen; she’s probably calling to see how your date went.

“I hate you,” you grumble while unlocking your car, climbing into the driver’s seat.

“What? Why?” Kate questions, “I was calling for a favor. I didn’t even get to that, so you can’t hate me yet.”

“Tonight was my date with Seojoon and it ended with me climbing out the bathroom window.”

“Oh, Seojoon is so old news. Actually, I should have set you up with–”

“No, I’m stopping you right there,” you say, interrupting her. “I’m not going on any more blind dates with terrible men that you barely know.”

“But–”

“No.”

Kate sighs on the other line, “Okay, fine. I’ll drop it for now. Can we jump to what I was calling about?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Jun’s father had a heart attack and we’re on the way to the airport, can you house-sit for the next two weeks?”

You hesitate to answer and she uses the opportunity to persuade you.

“I know it’s a lot to ask but our food is obviously free game, we have the coziest living room for movies, the hot tub just had its routine maintenance, and I’ll even let you bring Mika. Please, please, please!”

Mika is your sweet but sassy husky, and Kate usually can't stand all that hair. So she must be pretty desperate if she’s letting your energetic furball mess up her peaceful mountain cabin.

“Okay, yeah. I should be able to make that work. Maybe I can finish my next book while I’m up there.”

“Oh thank god!” she celebrates, relieved that you can help out. “You’re the best. I love you so much.”

“You better,” you remark.

“I have to go, so I’ll make it quick. There’s a note on the fridge with some house rules because I know you’d say yes. I’ll text you when we land. Okay, bye! Thank you!” She rushes, quickly hanging up on you before you have the chance to change your mind

It didn’t take very long to grab Mika, some clothes, and the essentials once you had gotten back. In less than half an hour, you had the car packed and ready to go.

You’re now about an hour into the drive up to Kate and Junhui’s mountain home. Your sister’s house-sitting favor couldn’t have come at a better time. You finally feel like you can write again.

A couple of years ago you self-published a fantasy romance book, and out of nowhere, it went viral on BookTok. It’s been nice living off the royalties from its success, but you know your readers want another. The problem is you’ve lacked focus lately; always finding an excuse or something else to do in your free time.

But that’s going to change in the next few days.

"Is that...snow?" you mutter, squinting through the windshield as tiny white flecks swirl down in front of you. It’s basically spring in the city and you haven’t seen snow in weeks, forgetting that the temperature is colder up here. With the high elevation, though, it makes sense.

Mika barks from the passenger seat, her tail thumping excitedly as the flakes fall heavier, dotting the windshield. She presses her nose to the passenger window, eagerly watching the world turn white. Unlike you, she loves the snow and all things cold.

You sigh, imagining yourself on a beach somewhere, basking in the sun, with the hint of frost in nowhere sight. But yet, here you are driving through a surprise snowstorm with a husky who’s living her best life.

You ease up on the gas, knowing that the roads are probably going to get icy soon. Mika’s barks become louder and more frequent.

"No, Mika-Ika-Poo," you say, using one of her many ridiculous nicknames. It's a habit of yours to give everyone, pets and people alike, the most absurd nicknames possible. "You have to be quiet now."

Naturally, your attempt at shushing her only makes things worse. Mika tilts her head, lets out an even louder bark, and then starts whining excitedly as if your words were some sort of encouragement. You can’t help but smile; it’s impossible to keep her quiet, especially when she senses snow.

“You are so sassy today.” You reach an arm over to scratch her neck, she’s just being a dog after all.

Glancing back at the road, you slam on the brakes as you go around the next bend. A truck has crashed into an electricity pole, leaving live power lines strewn across the icy road. But it's too late to stop in time. The road is too slick, and you're already sliding forward.

Your car glides helplessly into the downed lines, tires screeching on the black ice. Before panic can even set in, the front of your vehicle erupts in flames, fire licking up the hood. Smoke quickly surrounds you, blackening the windows until visibility is gone. The stench of burning plastic fills the air, and the heat becomes unbearable. Everything around you vanishes in the thick, choking cloud, leaving you trapped in a suffocating haze.

Shit. Now what?

As Seungcheol drives along the winding road ahead of him, a thin wisp of smoke catches his eye, curling up through the trees ahead. It snakes its way into the sky, growing darker and thicker as he approaches. The distant haze drifts ominously, making his pulse quicken. Something’s definitely wrong up ahead.

He comes to a halt, taking in the scene before him. Twenty-foot flames engulf a car, tangled in the chaos of fragmented power lines, flickering wildly against the night sky. To the left, a pickup truck is smashed against the base of an electric pole, which has split and fallen over.

“Are you good?” he hollers to the truck driver; he’s outside of the vehicle and on the phone with what he assumes is emergency services. The man nods and points back to the car frantically, “Help her! I don’t know how to get her out!”

Seungcheol rushes back to his own vehicle and pulls out a fire extinguisher from his backseat. He chuckles to himself, he knew it would come in handy one day. Call it firefighter’s intuition.

He throws on his spare flame-resistant jacket and heads back towards the fire. If the gas tank leaks, things could go very, very wrong.

He pulls the pin on his fire extinguisher and sprays the car, aiming for the engine which is where he believes the fire began.

“Are you alright in there?” He asks once getting the situation mostly under control.

“No, I am not alright! My car is on fire in case you haven’t noticed?”

“Besides the car, are you hurt?”

“No. I don’t think so? Mika looks okay too.”

“Your baby?” His heart races, stomach bile rising in his throat. Not again.

“My dog.”

Seungcheol calms himself. It’s a dog. It’s just a dog.

“Can I get out? Is my car going to blow up?” the woman asks with a shaky voice.

“Um, that’s a good question. I’m not sure. But I don’t want you to worry. I’m a trained firefighter and we’re going to figure this out, okay?

“What do you mean you aren’t sure? Aren’t you supposed to know what to do in this situation?”

“Not really, I fight fires in the mountains, not usually cars that drive across active lines,” Seungcheol jokes.

“Of course, the universe would send me an incompetent firefighter in this situation.”

Seungcheol huffs, “I’m not incompetent, I was kidding. What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Okay, Y/N. I’m Seungcheol. I need a few minutes to think about the safest way to get you out, in the meantime I want you to remain calm.” He hears the faint wail of sirens in the distance. Help is almost here, but he can’t wait. The anxiety is clawing at his neck. He needs to save you. You can’t die too.

The thought of rescuing you from the vehicle feels like a dangerous gamble. One wrong move, and you could step on a live wire and electrocute yourself to death. Seungcheol’s mind races through everything he’s heard about accidents like this: stay in the car, don't touch metal, don’t risk it.

But he also knows that it’s only a matter of minutes until you’re out of safe breathing oxygen in the cabin, and time feels like it’s slipping away. He glances at the ground surrounding your car, finding the safest path for you.

“Okay, I have a plan,” he says, after going over it in his head. “Are you able to crawl to the backseat?”

“Yeah, I think so.” He listens to the sounds of your shuffling, “Okay, I’m in the back with the dog.”

“Good, I’m going to break your driver’s side window. Then I want you to climb back into the front and I’ll help you out.”

“No, I’ll give you my dog first.”

“Alright, the dog goes first. Listen, there’s a chance that when I break the window the airflow and pressure change might cause the fire in your engine to ignite again. I will take care of it, I don’t want you to worry.”

With a surge of adrenaline, he smashes the car window with the end of the fire extinguisher. Shards of glass scatter onto the seat, and the dog whines from the sudden noise.

He leans down and peeks his head inside, his eyes immediately locking with yours. You're huddled in the backseat, arms tightly wrapped around your large dog, seeking comfort. Your light brown hair is tousled, strands falling across your face, but it’s your vibrant green eyes that stand out, even in the dim light. There's a mixture of exhaustion and relief in them.

He gently takes the leashed dog from your arms. "I’ll be right back for you," he promises, stepping cautiously away from the car, avoiding wet spots, and keeping a wary eye on the live wires.

The police are the first to arrive. “Pop your backseat open, I’ll put the dog in there,” he says, and the officer quickly obliges, opening the door for him.

As he turns to head back for you, the fire and rescue team pulls up, jumping into action. He heads toward the firefighters who are assessing the power line situation.

“Look who it is,” a familiar face grins, walking up to hug his old friend.

“Mingyu, it’s good to see you.” Seungcheol hugs him back.

”I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here. Always in the middle of the action. I gotta ask, are you interested in a job? We’ve got an opening if you’re sick of roughing it in the wilderness.”

“You know me well,” he smiles. “I’m on leave right now. Gotta work through some things. You know how it is.”

“Unfortunately, I do,” Mingyu agrees, knowing all too well and definitely knowing better than to ask. “Let’s grab a drink one of these nights while you’re still around.”

“Sure thing, have fun dealing with, well, all of this,” Seungcheol chuckles, motioning at the mess surrounding them.

By the time he heads back toward you, you're already out of the charred vehicle, the rescue team guiding you into the backseat of the cop car.

He watches from a distance, realizing that once again, he didn’t get the chance to keep his promise.

The rescue team moves swiftly, pulling you from the wreckage and checking you over to make sure you aren’t hurt, even though you insist you aren’t.

“Ma’am, I know you say you’re fine, but it’s my job to check.”

“Sorry,” you grumble, “I’ve just had a shit day and I’m worried that Mika is scared.”

“Your dog? Don’t worry, we can head over there right now.” They gather your belongings from the trunk of your sizzling car before guiding you to the safety of the squad car where your dog is already waiting, tail wagging despite the chaos.

Now that you're out of danger, you finally take in the scene around you. It's far worse than anything you could have imagined. The devastation is overwhelming, and the air is still heavy with smoke.

A wave of gratitude washes over you for the stranger who helped calm your nerves when everything seemed to be spiraling out of control. Without his reassurance, you’re not sure how you would’ve kept it together.

You spot him; he’s standing among the firemen, deep in conversation. His tall frame towers over most of them, and the broad set of his shoulders makes his jacket seem almost too small. The sparking power lines cast flickering shadows across his face.

Unlike the others, his jacket has a different department name stitched across his back, making him stand out from the crowd even more. There's something about the way he carries himself all calm and controlled, like he's seen this kind of devastation too many times before, that piques your interest.

Like he senses you looking him over, he glances over toward the patrol car as it pulls away from the accident.

You sink into the seat next to Mika, feeling the warmth of her fur against your side, grateful she’s okay. You’re relieved but still shaken, and with the smell of smoke still clinging to your clothes, are desperate for a nice hot shower to wash off this horrible day.

The officer pulls up to your sister’s house and helps carry your bags to the door. Before leaving, he hands you a copy of the accident report and the business card for the tow company that hauled off your car.

"Take care now," the older man says with a nod, waving from the driver’s seat as he reverses down the driveway.

“Thanks!” you return, Mika also joining in with a quick yap.

Using the spare key your sister gave you years ago, you unlock the door and step inside. Mika bolts down the hallway, likely heading for the living room to claim her favorite nap spot on the couch.

Kate’s house rules will have to wait. Right now, all you care about is scrubbing off the sticky residue of smoke that clings to your skin. Mika, meanwhile, seems unbothered. Her rolling in the snow earlier did wonders for cleaning up her fur. She’s back to her usual gray-and-white self, but you’ll still have to wrangle her into a bath at some point. You don’t have the energy for that battle tonight.

Dragging your bags toward the bedrooms, you drop them on the floor inside the master. You rummage through the top duffel, fishing out an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of pajama pants for after your shower. Clothes in hand, you head for the attached bathroom.

Peeling off your smoky clothes, you turn on the shower and wait for the water to heat up. Steam begins to fill the small space as you step beneath the heavy spray, the warm water washing away the grime and some of the day’s tension.

The face of the stranger from earlier flashes in your mind as you shampoo your long locks. Maybe you should have waited to say goodbye to him, and say thank you, before leaving the scene. You were in too much of a panic state to think about the proper way to handle anything. Hopefully, he understood that.

You’re just about done with rinsing off the remaining bubbles of the divine body wash your sister has in the shower when Mika runs into the bathroom and starts whining.

“I’m almost done, Mika Mouse” you comfort her through the glass wall, thinking her nerves are probably just acting up after today.

She whines again, slinking behind the bathroom door with her tail tucked low.

‘That’s odd’, you think, turning off the water and stepping out. ‘Maybe she doesn’t feel well?’

You wrap yourself in a thick towel, still worried about her behavior when a dull thud echoes from the far end of the house.

Mika peers up at you with wide, nervous eyes, the look clearly saying, ‘Don’t even think about asking me to check that out.’

Rolling your eyes, you mutter, “Of course not. So much for being a big, tough dog, huh?”

You tip-toe carefully toward the noise, the cool air against your damp skin making you shiver. The sound is coming from the kitchen, and Mika creeps along behind you, practically glued to your leg.

“You’re no help, you know that?” you whisper, glancing down at her. “What if I need backup?”

Mika simply stares at you, her blue eyes wide and unblinking, as if to say, ‘You’re on your own, Mom.’

Another louder crash stops you in your tracks. Your pulse quickens as you peek around the corner. There, in front of the open refrigerator, stands a stranger.

Adrenaline floods your body as you grab the nearest weapon (a spatula from the island counter), you let out a war cry and charge.

“Hey! What the—OW! Stop hitting me!” the intruder yells, raising his hands to shield himself.

“Who the hell are you?” you demand, swinging the spatula one last time for good measure.

“Wait! I—Ouch! What is wrong with you?” He twists around, finally revealing his face. And recognition slams into you like a brick wall, it’s the hot firefighter from earlier.

“You!” you hiss, lowering the spatula but not your guard. “Why are you here? Did you follow me here?”

“What? No! I’m staying here!” he snaps, rubbing his arm where you hit him.

“Uh, no you’re not. This is my sister’s house,” you say, crossing your arms. The movement makes you suddenly, painfully aware of how little you’re wearing.

He blinks at you, then gestures vaguely between you and the kitchen. “You’re Kate’s sister?”

“How do you know Kate?” you demand. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Seungcheol. I’m one of Jun’s friends,” he explains, looking somewhat flustered. “He told me I could crash here for a few days. Kate agreed and said it was fine.”

You frown, your brain scrambling to make sense of this. “Well, nobody told me.”

“I thought they were here. I figured... maybe they were in the shower,” he says, his eyes flicking to your dripping hair. “But I guess that was you. Where are they?”

“They’re out of town,” you mutter, pulling the towel tighter around yourself. “And clearly, no one thought to clue me in on their little hospitality arrangements.”

“I just spoke with Jun yesterday. He didn’t say anything about being out of town,” Seungcheol says, his brows furrowed.

“Well...it was sort of last minute,” you reply, hesitating. You’re unsure how much you should share, but curiosity about his reaction nudges you to continue. “His dad had a heart attack. They asked me to house-sit while they went to be with him.”

Seungcheol’s face shifts from confusion to alarm, genuine concern washing over his features. “Oh my god, Mr. Wen had a heart attack? Is he okay?” His eyes search yours, desperate for answers.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I haven’t heard any updates yet. I was hoping Kate would call once they got there.”

He nods slowly, processing the news, then looks back at you.

“So...how do you know Junhui?” You cross your arms, still skeptical.

“We grew up together and are still good friends,” he says simply, holding your gaze.

You narrow your eyes, trying to read him. He seems genuine, but the whole situation still feels a little too coincidental.

“Look,” he says, sensing your doubt, “I can prove it. I’ve got old photos of us on my phone. Or, better yet, check the living room. I’m pretty sure there’s a framed photo of us from a beach trip we took a few years ago. It was on the mantle the last time I visited.”

You pause, weighing his words. There’s something about his tone that makes you think he might actually be telling the truth. Still, you’re not ready to let your guard down just yet.

“Fine,” you say. “But if I find out you’re lying, I’m coming back with something worse than a spatula.”

“If you’re anything like Kate, I wouldn’t doubt it,” Seungcheol says with a chuckle, now leaning up against the kitchen island.

You shoot him a look before walking over to the fireplace, where Kate displays all her smaller framed photos. It doesn’t take long to spot the beach photo he mentioned, and sure enough, a younger Seungcheol is standing next to Jun, both grinning under the sun. He looks leaner in the picture, less muscular than the version currently smirking from the kitchen.

“Well?” he calls from the island, his tone teasing. “Did I pass the test?”

You place the photo back on the mantel and turn to face his direction. “Don’t move. I need to get dressed and call Kate.”

“Not going anywhere,” he replies with a shrug, clearly amused by the whole ordeal.

You hurry back to the bedroom, finding Mika burrowed under the covers on the bed, probably retreating there after your spatula ambush.

“Coward,” you huff, stepping over your bags. Reaching the clothes you set out earlier, you quickly throw them on, silently cursing yourself for choosing the frumpiest option. But how would you have known you’d need to look cute and presentable for... company? Comfort had been the only thing on your mind.

Grabbing the towel draped over the vanity, you cover the base of your skull and twist your damp hair into a quick headwrap. Fixing your hair can wait, sorting out this unexpected houseguest with Kate takes priority.

Muttering a string of curses under your breath, you march over to your bags and rummage through them until you find your purse. Digging inside, you finally fish out your phone, silently pleading with the universe that your sister will pick up.

This was the last situation Seungcheol had expected to find himself in tonight. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, staying rooted to the spot as promised. It’s not hard to keep his word, he figures moving any closer might make things worse.

He gets why you’re being cautious. Honestly, he’s glad you are. Still, it bothers him a little that you don’t feel entirely safe around him. He’d even stepped away from the fridge, putting himself by the island within your line of sight, hoping it might ease your discomfort. Given the circumstances, though, your reaction is understandable.

The sound of soft footsteps echoes down the hallway, announcing your return before he even sees you. When you step into view, his breath catches. You look ridiculously cute with your hair twisted up in that towel, even if you’re frowning. Not that he’d admit it, but he preferred the towel’s previous location—wrapped around your damp, glistening body.

Damn it, ‘Cheol. Not the time.

“I can’t get ahold of Kate or Jun,” you say with a frustrated sigh. “They must still be on their flight.”

Seungcheol doesn’t hesitate to slip into problem-solving mode like it’s second nature. Anything to erase that frown from your face. “If it helps, I’ll sleep on the couch tonight. It’s far from the bedrooms, and you can barricade your door if that makes you feel better. I swear, I’m not a threat.”

“How do I know that I can trust you?” you ask, your voice laced with doubt.

Without missing a beat, he responds, “Would you like to talk to my mom?”

“What?” you blink, your expression equal parts skeptical and confused.

“I’ll call my mom,” he says, already pulling his phone from his pocket. “She can vouch for me. Would that make you feel better?”

You tilt your head, clearly debating it. Before you can respond, he’s already tapping the screen a couple of times before holding the phone out to you.

“It’s ringing.”

“Hello? Cheolie, dear?” a warm, motherly voice answers.

“Um, hi,” you say awkwardly, lifting the phone to your ear.

“Oh, hello! Is my son there?”

“I’m here, Mom,” Seungcheol calls out, loud enough for her to hear. “Y/N has a question for you.”

“Alright, dear,” she replies, her tone curious. “What’s the question?”

You glance at him, then back to the phone. “I’d like to know if Seungcheol is...honest and trustworthy,” you say, your eyes narrowing slightly as you study his face.

“Oh, well, that’s an easy one!” his mom chirps. “My Cheolie is a sweetheart! Did you know he’s a firefighter? Some might even call him a hero. He’s one of the most honest and trustworthy people you’ll ever meet.”

“Right,” you murmur, trying not to smile. “So, you’d say it’s safe to sleep under the same roof with him?”

“Well,” she chuckles softly, “that depends on whether he remembers his manners. But I’d bet good money my son has plenty of self-restraint—”

“Okay, Mom, that’s enough. Thanks!” Seungcheol interjects quickly, his ears burning. “I’ll call you later. Love you, bye!” Ending the call, he looks up to find you grinning.

“Cheolie?” you tease, clearly enjoying his discomfort.

“Don’t call me that. Ever,” he warns, though the smile tugging at his lips betrays him. “So... what’s the verdict?”

You give him another once-over, still weighing your options. “You can sleep in the guest bedroom. I’ll take the primary. Most of my stuff is already in there anyway.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind the couch,” he offers sincerely.

“It’s fine,” you reply with a wave of your hand. “You did save me earlier, after all. I’m not going to kick you out in the middle of the night when it’s storming. We’ll sort everything out tomorrow when it’s not so late.”

“Thanks,” he says, relief evident in his voice. “I’m glad you’re okay, by the way. Did the rescue team check your throat for smoke inhalation? And what about your dog? Wait—where is your dog?” His head swivels as he realizes he hasn’t seen Mika.

“She’s hiding in the bedroom, like the coward she is,” you say with a huff. “And yeah, we both got checked out. The worst of it was my car... and my clothes.” You glance at the clock on the wall. “Anyway, I’m heading to bed. Do you need anything?”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m good. I know my way around. I’ll grab some water and call it a night too.”

“Alright. Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

You disappear down the hall, leaving him standing in the kitchen, feeling oddly better than he had all day.

Seungcheol’s hand trails across your jaw, his tough is light yet as his eyes sear into yours. His fingers trace the delicate curve of your face before slipping into the hair behind your ear, his grip gentle but possessive as he leans in.

His lips brush against yours, warm and inviting, sending a shiver down your spine. The kiss is tantalizing and slow, yet perfectly in sync, drawing a soft sigh from your lips as you melt into him.

And then—buzz.

Wait. Are his lips...vibrating?

A second buzz jolts you further from the haze of your dream, and before you can process it, another vibration tickles your cheek. Your eyes flutter open, reality crashing in as you realize your phone is pressed between your face and the pillow. You must have dozed off without setting it on the nightstand.

Blinking heavily, you grab the device, squinting at the screen. It’s your sister.

You swipe to answer, your voice thick with sleep. “Hello?”

“Shoot, were you sleeping? I’m sorry,” Kate says, already sounding guilty.

“For waking me up or for forgetting to mention the house guest you invited to stay here?”

“Oh my god.” A beat of silence, and then she groans. “Y/N, I am so sorry. Everything happened so fast with Jun’s dad, and it completely slipped my mind that Seungcheol was coming to visit. Is he there now?”

“Yeah. And I might have whacked him a few times thinking he was breaking into the house.”

Your sister snickers on the other end, clearly picturing it. “You attacked him?”

“We’ve resolved it. Mostly.”

Kate bursts into laughter, and you roll your eyes, already regretting telling her.

"I bet he loved that," Kate snickers. "Seriously, though, I just wanted to call with an update, except there isn’t much of one. The doctors are running every test they can to figure out why he had a heart attack in the first place. Basically, we’re stuck in a waiting game for now.”

Your stomach twists. “How’s Jun handling it?”

She lowers her voice, the weight of concern evident. “I think he’s scared. But he’s putting on a brave front for his mom. She’s beside herself right now.” A pause. “Actually, the doctor is coming now. I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Yeah, of course. Give Jun a big hug for me. Keep me updated. Love you.”

“Love you too, sis. Bye.”

The line goes dead and you glance at the time, it’s just past 8 a.m. Mika stretches beside you, yawning dramatically before perking up, her bright blue eyes locked onto you. Now that she knows you’re awake, there’s no stopping her. She’s practically quivering with morning energy, and it won’t be long before she starts pawing at the door, demanding her outdoor time.

You sigh, already mourning your sweet slumber and the very interesting dream that had been so rudely interrupted.

Mika whines before hopping off the bed and trotting to the door, tail wagging expectantly.

Cracking it open, you peek into the hallway. Seungcheol’s door is still closed. Good, at least one of you gets to sleep in.

Tip-toeing toward the entryway, you slip into your winter gear before heading toward the back deck. The crisp morning air nips at your face as you slide the glass door open and Mika dashes past you in a blur of fur, instantly prancing through the fresh snow.

She lives for the cold, yet somehow refuses to do her business unless she has a bare patch of ground. An interesting quirk of hers. With a resigned sigh, you find a shovel nearby and clear a small area for her.

While she tunnels through the snow, occasionally popping her head up like a mischievous little arctic fox, you shove your gloved hands into your pockets, bouncing on your heels to stay warm.

Once she’s finally done playing and has taken care of business, you barely have to say the magic word, breakfast, before she’s bounding back inside, tail wagging like she just won the lottery.

She sits patiently, her tail sweeping across the floor as you prepare her usual breakfast, dry kibble topped with blueberries and salmon. The combination makes your nose wrinkle, but to her, it’s a five-star meal. She lets out a soft huff, urging you to hurry up, and the second you place the bowl down, she dives in enthusiastically.

As you watch her eat, the weight of yesterday’s events settles over you. The bad date, the phone call, the fire, and the unexpected houseguest. Despite all the chaos, there’s a lingering sense of gratitude warming your chest. Things could have been so much worse.

Deciding you want to thank Seungcheol, you rummage through the pantry and fridge, gathering everything you need to whip up a nice breakfast for yourselves. It’s the least you can do for him.

With your favorite indie playlist humming through the speakers, you settle into the rhythm of cooking. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla fills the air as the french toast sizzles on the stove. Lost in the process, you sway a little to the music, waiting for the perfect moment to flip the slices.

Until something in your peripheral catches your attention, and when you glance up, your breath hitches.

Seungcheol steps out of the guest room, still half-asleep, his dark hair tousled in an unfairly attractive way. But that’s not what has you flushing, it’s the fact that he’s shirtless, with his toned chest and defined abs on full display. The gray sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips aren’t helping your already scattered thoughts.

Your gaze lingers a second too long. Maybe three. Or five…

By the time you snap out of it, his smirk is already forming. Oh, he definitely caught you looking. The heat creeping up your neck betrays you, and his smirk deepens.

“Morning,” he says, voice still rough with sleep.

You clear your throat, quickly turning back to the stove. “Morning. Breakfast will be ready soon.”

“Smells good,” he muses, stepping closer. “Need any help?”

You swallow hard, focusing on flipping the french toast before it burns. “You know what would be helpful?” you ask, keeping your eyes on the pan, not on him.

“What’s that?” he replies, stretching his arms above his head.

You steal one last glance, just a quick one, watching the way his muscles ripple with the movement. Damn it. Get a grip.

“If you’d go throw on a shirt, Rolie Polie Cheolie.”

His laughter is instant, loud and unapologetic. “Wow. That nickname is uncalled for.” He runs a slow hand down his chest, smiling smugly. “Is this too much for you? I totally understand why.”

Your grip tightens around the spatula as you flash him a sickly sweet smile, waving it in your hand as a reminder. “Should we revisit last night?”

His smile falters, eyes darting to the spatula like he’s considering his odds. “Damn, woman. Okay.” Still chuckling, he lifts his hands in surrender and backs away. “I’ll go find a shirt. But for the record…” he pauses in the doorway, glancing back at you with a knowing grin. “You didn’t have to stare.”

Your cheeks burn as you turn back to the stove. This man is going to be the death of you.

It’s day three of surviving Seungcheol.

You don’t know when you started keeping track, but at this point, it feels necessary. Every glance, every smirk, every damn stretch of his ridiculously sculpted arms even when he’s innocently putting away the washed dishes after a meal, chips away at your resolve.

Kate hadn’t helped. Last night, after calling with an update, she’d gone there*.*

“If you’re looking for some fun*,* Seungcheol is definitely the way to go,” she’d said, voice full of mischief.

You’d nearly choked on your water. “Excuse me?”

“He’s so fine. Not as fine as Jun, of course, but Seungcheol is a man if you know what I mean.”

Your gaze had drifted traitorously toward him. He’s comfortably sprawled in the corner chair, book in hand, looking every bit like a romance novel cover come to life.

You’d hissed into the phone, “Shut up,” even though he’d need superhuman hearing to catch onto what she was saying.

“All I’m saying is, you never know what might happen over the next few days. Have some fun.”

Heat crawls up your neck as you rise to grab a drink from the kitchen. Why is it suddenly so warm in here?

“Nothing is going to happen,” you’d whispered back, firmly.

“Boo. You’re no fun.” She’d let it go after that, moving on to say they’d likely be home by next Wednesday. Nine more days. That’s all you have to survive.

Nine days without making a fool of yourself.

Nine days without giving in to the way he makes your pulse stutter.

Three down and nine to go. Twelve total…You can do it. Right? You just need to focus. Like on your book.

Yes. Writing. That’ll keep your thoughts free of Seungcheol.

After your usual morning routine of walking Mika, enjoying breakfast, and tidying up, Seungcheol casually mentions that he’s heading out for a run.

Jogging in the cold sounds like actual torture to you, but you still offer him a small smile. “Have a good run!”

“Thanks,” he says, rolling out his shoulders as he stretches. His muscles flex with the movement underneath his tight zip-up, and you have to remind yourself not to stare. “When I get back, I’ll cook us dinner.”

That certainly piques your interest. “Oh? Do you cook often?”

“You could say that. Plus, I wouldn’t want you starving under my watch,” he teases with a wink before heading out the door.

You narrow your eyes at the space he just vacated. Has he figured out that your culinary skills barely extend beyond breakfast foods? Maybe the fact that you reheated frozen leftovers twice yesterday tipped him off.

Once he’s gone, you settle into your writing space with a hot tea nearby and your laptop open, fingers poised over the keyboard. The hardest part is always getting started, but once you do, the words tend to flow. Today, they’re flowing especially well.

You’re making great progress on the prologue, recapping the last book’s events and weaving in the setup for the new characters. But as you flesh out the love interest, describing his dark, chocolatey hair and toned physique, a realization hits you.

You’re using a certain someone as inspiration.

The realization makes your fingers hesitate over the keyboard. Seriously? You shake your head, trying to brush off the thought, but it lingers, settling into the back of your mind like an itch you can’t quite scratch.

Your main character’s love interest is supposed to be effortlessly charismatic, strong, and just the right amount of a cocky attitude. Traits that, annoyingly, align all too well with the man currently out on his run. The way he smirks when he catches you looking, the deep timbre of his voice, the way he makes your heart race anytime he’s within touching distance.

You groan and drop your head onto the table. This is ridiculous.

Maybe Kate was right. Maybe your subconscious is betraying you, channeling all that pent-up energy into your writing instead of…well, other things.

Before you can spiral further, you take a deep breath and push those distracting thoughts out of your mind. Focus. You force your attention back to your screen, determined to channel this energy into something productive.

You finish fleshing out the details of your character, the way his eyes darken when he’s deep in thought, the way his presence commands a room without effort. You tweak a few lines, refining his dialogue until it feels just right.

Satisfied, you move on, letting the story take shape one sentence at a time. The tension between your characters simmers, the chemistry practically leaping off the page. It’s electric, intense…and maybe, just maybe, a little too familiar.

You shake off the thought and keep writing, ignoring the way your mind keeps circling back to a certain firefighter with a teasing smirk and frustratingly perfect timing.

“Whatcha working on?”

You nearly jump out of your seat. A damp towel hangs around Seungcheol’s shoulders, his hair still wet from a shower. He’s also wearing different clothes than earlier, a fresh pair of lounge pants and a fitted black tee that does nothing to hide the way his broad shoulders and toned arms fill it out.

When did he even get back? You didn’t hear him come in, let alone get undressed and shower.

“You were so engrossed in whatever this is,” he motions to your laptop screen, “that you didn’t even hear me say I was hopping in the shower.”

Your heart is still trying to recover from the surprise, and maybe from the sight of him standing so casually in front of you, all post-workout and freshly showered.

“W-what?” you stammer, snapping your laptop shut on instinct. “I was…just writing.”

His lips curl into a slow, knowing smirk. “About what?”

Absolutely not. There is no way in hell you’re telling him the truth.

“Um, I’m an author. I have a book due soon as part of my contract.”

Seungcheol nods, clearly waiting for you to elaborate. His gaze makes you hesitate, do you dive into the full truth about writing romantasy smut or keep things vague? A simple character plotting excuse could work, but something about the way he’s watching you makes you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“It’s, um, about a warrior heiress whose assigned protector is a human hybrid. He can morph into a giant guardian dog at will. And, well…she kind of falls for him.” You pause, watching his reaction, then, without thinking, add, “Do you know what knotting means?”

The second the words leave your mouth, you want to crawl under the table.

Seungcheol’s eyebrows shoot up, a smirk playing on his lips. “Do I want to know?”

Your face is on fire. Abort. Abort. You shake your head rapidly. “No, probably not.”

He chuckles, clearly amused by your panic but merciful enough to let it slide. “Alright then,” he says, using the towel to dry off his hair some more. It’s enough to distract you.

Little do you know, he’s definitely planning on looking it up later.

“How was your run? And shower?” you babble, desperate to steer the conversation elsewhere.

“Both were good,” he replies smoothly, eyes still holding a trace of interest in the previous topic of conversation. “But I’m starving now. How about you?”

You swallow, forcing yourself to focus. “Well, I won’t say no to food,” you say, standing up and stretching, trying to act casual.

Seungcheol smirks like he knows exactly where your mind wanders. “Good. Because I plan on impressing you.”

“Oh? Bold of you to assume I’m easily impressed.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m not up for the challenge,” he says, his voice dripping with confidence. “You want to help, or are you still lost in your little fantasy world?”

The teasing in his voice makes your eyes narrow. Without hesitation, you snap your laptop shut before he can read another word. “I’ve hit my goal for the day. Put me to work, chef.”

He laughs, “Wow, such enthusiasm. Almost convincing.” He slings the damp towel over his shoulder. “Let me toss this in the laundry hamper, and then we’ll get started.”

As he disappears down the hall, you exhale, pressing your palms against the cool surface of the table. Seungcheol has no idea what you were writing, but the thought of him finding out makes your stomach twist. And not necessarily in a bad way.

By the time he returns, you’ve found an apron and slipped it on, attempting to tie the strings behind you. He stops mid-step, taking in the sight of you. His grin is slow and approving. “Look at you, all dressed for the part.”

You place your hands on your hips, raising an eyebrow. “Obviously. Now, Super Couper, what’s on the menu?”

He groans, dragging a hand through his hair before shooting you a playful glare. “How many more ridiculous nicknames do you have up your sleeve?”

You tilt your head, eyes sparkling with mischief. “An endless amount.” Your smile is far too triumphant. “It’s a habit of mine. And lucky you, you get to be the exclusive recipient for the next several days.”

He shakes his head at the new ridiculous nickname, but the grin on his face gives him away. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Immensely,” you tease, adjusting the apron strings behind your back. “Now, tell me what I’m chopping, stirring, or burning.”

He chuckles, stepping closer. His hands brush over yours as he takes over and ties the apron for you, pulling the strings snug. The warmth of his fingers lingers even after he steps back. “We’re making spicy kimchi fried rice with seared steak.”

Your stomach growls in approval, and he smiles. “I’ll handle the steak since I don’t want you to accidentally ruin it,” he teases. “You’re on chopping duty. Can I trust you with a knife?”

You scoff, grabbing a knife. “Duh.”

He leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching you with amused eyes. “We’ll see.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the way your pulse skips as you start slicing. This is fine. Totally normal. Just two adults cooking together. It’s definitely not a big deal that you can feel his body heat every time he moves past you, or that his deep, husky chuckle makes your stomach flutter.

You won’t admit it, but you’re totally impressed by the way Seungcheol moves around the kitchen with ease, like he was born to do this. He’s completely in his element. You find yourself wondering why he became a firefighter instead of a chef at some high-end restaurant.

Seungcheol watches as you slice into an onion, “Here, let me show you how to hold it properly—”

“I know how to do it,” you huff, gripping the handle tighter. “I’m capable of chopping vegetables, Seungcheol.”

He raises a brow at your defensive tone, then softens. “Of course you are,” he says gently. “I just don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Something about his concern makes your stomach twist. Maybe it’s the way he automatically took over, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s right, but either way, it leaves a sour taste in your mouth. He seems to realize it too because he steps back, letting you finish on your own without another word.

The tension lingers as he takes the chopped veggies and tosses them into the pan, sautéing them before mixing them with the rice. You know it’s ridiculous to hold a grudge over something as small as knife skills, but the silence stretches between you as you both eat, neither wanting to be the first to break it.

Even Mika, who’s happily munching away at her dinner, doesn’t offer a distraction from the lingering silence.

Seungcheol wouldn’t know this, but people have been stepping in to ‘help’ you your whole life, whether you wanted them to or not. Being a little clumsy means that, more often than not, others take over, deciding you’re too slow, too messy, or just better off watching.

You’ve fought to prove yourself capable in small ways, learning things at your own pace, and taking pride in figuring them out on your own. You know Seungcheol didn’t mean it that way. His help wasn’t condescending, it wasn't just let me do it move like you’ve experienced before.

Finally, you exhale, deciding to move past it. No point in sulking over it.

“So,” you say after taking a drink of your water, “Can I ask you something?”

Seungcheol glances up, mid-bite, eyebrows raising slightly. “Of course.”

“You seem really comfortable in the kitchen,” you pause, watching the way his shoulders stiffen. “Why firefighting? Why not something food-related?”

“I spent some time in culinary school, but I like doing things my own way. It wasn’t for me.” He leans back slightly, twirling his fork between his fingers. “Firefighting is…different. It’s this rush of energy that takes over your body. You assess the situation, cut the wildfire off from its resources, do everything in your power to stop it from growing. It’s intense, but it’s rewarding.” He exhales, his gaze momentarily distant. “But I’m not sure it’s exactly for me anymore either.”

“Oh? Really? Why’s that?”

He hesitates for a beat, then shrugs. “I have a few things to figure out, some important decisions to make. That sort of thing.” His tone makes it clear he’s not ready to elaborate, so he shifts the conversation instead. “What about you? Have you always liked writing?”

“God, no,” you say with a short laugh. “I’ve always been an avid reader, but I kept looking for a specific type of book that either wasn’t well written or didn’t exist. Eventually, I just decided to write it myself.” You glance at your mostly empty plate. “I’m still new to it all, this is only my second book, but I like it.”

Seungcheol nods, offering a small smile. “That’s good.”

You let the comfortable quiet settle between you as you both take the last few bites of dinner.

“Thanks for dinner, by the way,” you say, getting up to take your dishes to the sink.

“Thanks for helping.”

Day Five of Surviving Seungcheol

Yesterday wasn’t particularly eventful, just another day of coexisting with the infuriatingly perceptive man currently occupying your space. The most eventful thing that happened was Seungcheol shoveling the driveway and front steps after the snowfall, which, for Mika, was basically an invitation to turn the entire ordeal into a game. She chased after flying clumps of snow, leaping at them mid-air like an overexcited puppy, completely unbothered by the cold.

Unlike you.

Even though the sun shined for most of the day, the mountain air bites sharper than usual, cutting through every layer you’ve thrown on. No matter how many sweaters or blankets you bundle yourself in, warmth remains elusive. And now that the sun has gone down, the temperature seems to have dropped again.

“God, I miss the warm weather,” you mutter, pushing off the couch in search of yet another blanket.

Seungcheol frowns, his eyes tracking you as you disappear down the hall. He already turned up the thermostat earlier when he noticed goosebumps on your arms, and you’ve thrown on a sweater since then. He sets his nearly finished book down, rolling his shoulders as he stands.

By the time you return, arms wrapped around the thickest blanket you could find, the unmistakable crackle of fire fills the living room.

You stop in your tracks, eyes flicking to Seungcheol, who’s crouched near the fireplace, adjusting the logs. The warm glow of the flames casts flickering shadows across his face, highlighting the quiet concentration in his features.

Somehow, he always catches onto things and does them before you even think to ask.

“It should warm up in here pretty fast now,” he says, meeting your eyes.

“Thank you.”

“Of course. Do you, uh…want to watch something while you write, or would that be distracting?” he asks, unsure.

“I could use some background noise. Put on whatever you want.”

Seungcheol grabs the remote and flips through the options before settling on the latest action movie. It’s loud, fast-paced, and (at least in theory) should hold his attention.

Except it doesn’t.

He’ll admit, he hasn’t got a single clue what’s happening on the screen. Explosions, car chases, intense fight scenes; they all blur together as his focus repeatedly drifts to your laptop.

It’s not his fault. Really.

He had every intention of watching the movie. Based on the description, it seemed like something he’d enjoy. But the moment his gaze flickered toward your screen, all thoughts of entertainment evaporated. His curiosity got the best of him, and now he’s stealing glances, completely distracted by the way your fingers move over the keys with effortless ease.

And after reading a line, all rational thought leaves his head.

Dash looks up at me with fire in his eyes. “You’re mine. Your heart, your mouth, your sweet cunt—it’s all mine.” A deep growl vibrates from his chest as he pulls me onto his lap, his hardening length pressing against me through his pants.

Seungcheol swallows hard, eyes darting between the flashing scenes on the TV and the words on your laptop. Jesus Christ. He stiffens, willing his expression to remain neutral. But it’s impossible to unsee the words, impossible to ignore the way his brain short-circuits at the imagery.

Dash shreds my corset with his claws, discarding the tattered fabric like it’s nothing. His mouth latches onto my nipple, his hand cupping the other, his touch rough yet reverent. I whimper as he spreads my thighs, lifting my skirt to reveal—

He sucks in a sharp breath, snapping his head back toward the TV. Nope. Nope. Nope.

But now he’s hyper-aware of you sitting beside him, completely unbothered as your fingers move effortlessly over the keys. You’re so focused, so immersed in crafting this sinful scene like it’s just another day at work.

He wants to laugh. He wants to tease. He wants to ask you what the hell kind of research you’ve been doing for this book, but more than anything, he kinda wants to know what happens next.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type to enjoy a smutty book,” you muse, lips curling into a knowing smirk. You should probably be embarrassed that he’s been sneakily reading, but watching the initial shock on his face shift into reluctant curiosity is far too entertaining.

Seungcheol’s head snaps toward you so fast you’re surprised he doesn’t get whiplash. Shit. I’ve been caught.

You laugh, the sound bubbling out before you can stop it. Eventually, Seungcheol joins in, shaking his head in amusement. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but that certainly wasn’t it. You’re good, though. I can see why your last book sold so many copies.”

Your brows lift in mock surprise. “Ah, have you been doing a little research on me?”

He smirks, completely unapologetic. “Maybe just a little. I didn’t realize I was sharing a house with the beloved BookTok queen.”

That makes you laugh even harder, the sound ringing through the room. Seungcheol watches you, taking in the way your eyes squint when you laugh, how your whole face lights up. Damn, he thinks, you’re gorgeous.

Seungcheol pushes himself up from the couch, partially to hide his growing hard-on and partially to grab a snack. He’s so attracted to you, more than he ever expected to be. “Feel like popcorn?”

“Yum, yes! That sounds fab,” you say, already diving back into your smut scene.

A few minutes later, he returns with a freshly popped bowl of popcorn and two cold beers. “Wasn’t sure if you drink, but I can grab you some water instead if you prefer.”

You smile at his thoughtfulness. “Nah, beer is great. Thanks.”

The two of you settle in, watching the last half of the movie together. Not that you’re paying much attention, you’re pretty sure Seungcheol isn’t either, as you keep stealing glances at each other. Plus, the plot is all over the place, and you both seem equally lost.

Then, just as things finally seem to be wrapping up, one of the love interests dies. And just like that, you’re completely checked out. If there’s one thing you cannot stand, it’s an unhappy ending. You’re a die-hard Happy Ever After lover. What was the point of all that buildup if they were just going to rip it away?

Seungcheol stretches, letting out a deep yawn as the credits begin to roll. “That felt longer than I thought it would.”

“Sleepy?” you ask, hoping maybe he’ll say no and you can keep hanging out a little longer.

But he yawns again, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, surprisingly, I am. I better head to bed.” He shoots you a tired smile. “Sweet dreams.”

…

Seungcheol hesitates for half a second before nodding and retreating to his room. As he shuts the door behind him, your expression lingers in his mind. There was something there, just for a moment. Maybe he imagined it.

He shakes his head. Don’t be stupid. He won’t get his hopes up about you having any sort of feeling for him. And he refuses to put you in that position.

Exhaling deeply, he climbs into bed, exhaustion weighing on him. Sleep comes quickly, but the comfort is short-lived.

The memory that haunts him returns, just like it always does. His body tenses, breath shallowing as he’s yanked back into the nightmare that never leaves him alone.

Fire. Smoke. The metallic taste of fear coating his tongue.

He tosses and turns, jaw clenched, fingers twitching as though trying to dig through rubble that isn’t there. His face contorts in distress, beads of sweat forming at his temple as the scene replays, relentless and unforgiving.

No.

He sprints toward the smoldering wreckage of what was once a home, his heart pounding harder than his boots against the ashy ground. The house was still standing only hours ago. He told them to leave, practically begged them to, but the charred remains of their car in the driveway tell him all he needs to know.

Still, he digs. His hands work frantically, shoving aside collapsed beams and shattered drywall, hoping—praying—that he won’t find what he’s looking for. That his gut feeling is wrong. That by some miracle, they made it out.

But then, he sees them.

A pair of burned bodies curled around something small. No, no, no, no…

His stomach twists violently as he stumbles back. The infant cradled in their lifeless arms, the baby he promised would be safe, is gone too.

His breath catches. The awful taste of failure coats his tongue, choking him.

You had planned to sleep hours ago, but the book you’re reading is just too good. Mika is curled up at your side, warm and comfortable, and you’ve convinced yourself that one more chapter won’t hurt.

Just as you shift under the covers, a faint noise catches your attention.

You sit up, ears straining. Was that… talking?

At first, it’s too muffled to make out. Maybe Seungcheol is on the phone? But then, clearer this time, desperate and pleading.

“No! No, please no!”

A shiver runs down your spine. That wasn’t the voice of someone having a casual conversation. That was pain.

You rush out of bed, heart hammering, and press your ear against the guest bedroom door. Faint whimpers slip through the painted wood, his distress clear even from the hallway.

“Seungcheol?” You crack the door open slightly, hesitant to intrude. “Is everything alright?”

But then he lets out a bloodcurdling scream.

Screw privacy.

You rush to his side, your hand finding his trembling shoulder. “Hey, it’s just a bad dream,” you say gently, settling onto the bed beside him. His breath comes in sharp, uneven gasps, his face twisted in agony. You shake him, not too hard but firm enough to pull him from the nightmare’s grip. “Seungcheol, wake up. You’re safe. It’s alright, everything is alright.”

His eyelids flutter, his gaze unfocused as he blinks up at you. “Y/N?” His voice is hoarse, heavy with exhaustion and something else, perhaps something raw like grief.

“I’m here,” you whisper, your touch instinctively soothing as you rub slow circles along his back. “Shh. Go back to sleep.”

His ragged breathing gradually evens out, his body loosening as the tension melts away. Just as you think he’s fully drifted off, you start to move, planning to slip away quietly.

But before you can, his arms tighten around you.

You stiffen, every muscle locking up as he pulls you back down, tucking you against his chest.

The warmth of him is immediate, wrapping around you like a cocoon. He moves on instinct, tossing the blanket over you, his hold protective, unconsciously seeking comfort.

You fit perfectly against him.

You try not to think about it. About how steady his heartbeat sounds beneath your ear. About how his breath brushes against your hair. About how ridiculously pretty his eyelashes are up this close. Or how full his lips look, even now, parted slightly in sleep.

You tell yourself you’ll stay just a few minutes. Just until he’s completely settled. But your eyelids grow heavy, the warmth of his embrace lulling you into quiet surrender.

And before you know it, you’ve slipped into slumber beside him.

A few hours later, sunlight peeks through the blinds, lighting up your face as you stir awake. You blink against the brightness, momentarily disoriented until the empty space beside you registers.

Seungcheol is gone.

You sit up quickly, heart stuttering. Shit. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep here. You should’ve woken up first and slipped out unnoticed, so you could pretend like nothing ever happened.

Did he realize you stayed? Of course, he realized. You were next to him when he got up.

Swinging your legs off the bed, you brush a hand through your hair and take a steadying breath before padding out into the main part of the house.

Through the window, you spot him outside with Mika. He’s already shoveled a bare patch for her, ensuring she doesn’t have to trudge through the deep snow just to do her business.

Your heart gives an inconvenient little patter.

Of course, he would remember to do that. He’s always so considerate, always catching onto things, even if you don’t realize he does.

You quietly retreat back to the primary bedroom, rifling through the duffel bag of clothes you brought. If you’re going to pretend last night didn’t happen, you might as well do it while looking cute. You settle on a cozy but flattering outfit, then jump into the shower, hoping the hot water will help clear your head.

By the time you emerge, refreshed and dressed, Seungcheol has come back inside.

“Morning,” he greets, looking up as you approach.

You hesitate, searching his expression for any hint of last night’s events, of waking up tangled together, of his unconscious grip pulling you closer.

But he doesn’t mention it. Huh, interesting.

“Hi,” you reply, forcing a casual smile. “Good morning.”

And just like that, it’s as if nothing ever happened. You keep your expression neutral, though a tiny pang of disappointment lingers. Pretending was your plan, so why does it sting a little when he beats you to it?

“I noticed the kitchen faucet was dripping this morning,” Seungcheol says, before drinking the rest of his coffee. “Tried fixing it, but I think it needs to be replaced. I’m gonna run into town to grab a new one. Want to escape for the day? We could grab lunch while we’re out.”

A break actually sounds nice. You haven’t gotten much writing done anyway, and the weight of waiting for feedback from your agent and publisher is pressing heavier by the hour.

“Yeah, that sounds good. I sent in my rough outline and a few chapters yesterday, but I haven’t heard anything back yet. I think the suspense is killing my creativity.”

He nods in understanding. “Makes sense. Want to get ready first?”

“Yeah, give me five minutes.”

Back in your room, you sift through your bag before settling on your favorite pair of jeans and a cropped crewneck that sits just right at your waist, warm enough for layering under your winter coat. You twist your hair into a claw clip, swipe on some mascara and lip gloss, then take one last glance in the mirror before heading out to meet him.

When you return, you find Seungcheol has changed too. He’s now wearing a flannel, dark slacks, and a ball cap. You squint, trying to make out the embroidered words. Dude’s Bait & Tackle.

“Who’s Dude?” you ask while slipping on your boots.

“My brother.”

Your head tilts slightly. “You have a brother?”

“Yeah, he’s a few years older than me. I probably don’t visit him as often as I should.” He shrugs, grabbing his jacket and the note he jotted down with the faucet’s dimensions. “Not that he minds, he’s not much of a people person.”

You nod, filing that little detail about him away. “Ready when you are.”

Grabbing your purse, you turn to Mika, crouching down to scratch behind her ears. “Be good, we’ll be back soon. I love you so much. Make good decisions, okay?”

Seungcheol fights back a laugh, secretly charmed by the way you treat Mika like a tiny, furry human. Instead, he simply shakes his head and opens the front door for you, following you out to his truck.

Without hesitation, he moves ahead to open the passenger door for you too.

Chivalry isn’t dead, after all.

“You don’t have to do that,” you say, feeling a little guilty for making him go out of his way.

“I know,” Seungcheol replies easily, offering his hand to help you up into the seat. “But I was raised to be a gentleman.” Then, with a small smirk, he adds, “Plus, I don’t mind helping a pretty girl.”

You narrow your eyes playfully. “Oh, so if I was ugly, you’d just slam the door in my face? That's what you’re saying, Coupcake?”

His smirk deepens as he shakes his head, then suddenly leans in to buckle your seatbelt for you. Your breath catches, he’s close, so close. You catch a hint of his cologne, warm and woodsy, and your cheeks heat despite the cold air outside.

After clicking the buckle into place, he tilts his head slightly, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “I need to start writing these down. You’ve got some good ones.”

“Don’t encourage me, or I’ll have to pull out the big guns,” you tease, lifting a brow.

He chuckles, rolling his eyes as he steps back and shuts the door. A second later, he’s sliding into the driver’s seat beside you, the corners of his mouth still tugging into a smile.

And just like that, the day suddenly feels like it will be a lot more interesting.

Seungcheol wakes up feeling more rested than he has in a long time. A rare kind of warmth settles deep in his bones, the kind that makes him want to stay in bed just a little longer. He takes a slow breath in, and his senses are instantly flooded with you. Vanilla, soft and sweet, mixed with something else he hasn’t quite figured out yet.

His arms tighten around you instinctively before his brain fully catches up. Why are you in my bed? He doesn’t remember. But fuck, he’s not complaining.

Snuggling in a little deeper, his palm glides over your side, fingertips tracing the curve of your waist. You fit against him perfectly, your body molding into his like you were meant to be there.

And then you shift.

A small, unconscious movement, but it sends your ass pressing right against his already half-awake length, making him inhale sharply through his nose.

Shit.

He freezes, willing his body to relax. Don’t ruin this for me right now, he thinks to himself, demanding his body to behave. Clenching his jaw, he wills little Coups to calm the fuck down before this gets embarrassing.

And for a second, he thinks he has it under control. Until you shift again, this time pressing even closer, your warmth seeping through the layers of fabric between you.

Then, in the softest murmur, barely above a whisper, you breathe his name.

“Mmm, Seungcheol.”

His stomach clenches. His fingers twitch against your skin.

Holy. Fuck.

Yeah. He needs to get up. Right now. Before time reverts and he’s turned back into a horny teenager, about to embarrass himself in ways he will never recover from.

Carefully, Seungcheol pulls away from your warmth, slipping out from beneath the covers with as much stealth as he can manage. You barely stir, completely unaware of the hold you have over him. Over his mind, his body, his every last ounce of self-control.

He needs distance. Immediately.

Making his way down the hall, he beelines for the bathroom at the far end of the house, somewhere safely out of range, where he can get his shit together before he does something unbelievably stupid.

Like pinning you against the bookshelf in the living room and fucking you until you scream his name.

Or bending you over the kitchen counter, pushing your hair aside so he can bite down on your shoulder as he takes you from behind.

Or his personal favorite—his absolute fucking favorite—you on top of him, sinking down onto his cock inch by inch, gasping as you stretch around him. Maybe even making that same sinful little sound you let out the other night at dinner, when you were upset with him but still savoring every bite.

A deep groan rumbles in his chest as he steps into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

And finally, finally, he shoves his boxers down and wraps a fist around his aching cock.

Seungcheol drags his thumb over his needy tip, a shudder rolling down his spine. His body is desperate, pulsing with heat. He pulls his hand away just long enough to spit into his palm before wrapping it back around his aching length.

Shutting his eyes, he delves into the fantasy, one that feels so damn real he almost swears he can still smell your vanilla scent clinging to his skin.

In another world, he wouldn’t have left that bed. Wouldn’t have forced himself to walk away. No, he would’ve pulled you closer instead, arm tightening around your waist as his hand slipped beneath your sleep shorts. His fingers would have teased their way down, brushing over your clit before dragging through your folds, already damp and so warm. The moment he pressed inside, you’d gasp, surprised, shifting in his arms but not pulling away. Never pulling away.

His strokes quicken, his breath growing uneven.

You’d turn toward him, sleep-heavy eyes blinking open, and without a word, your thighs would part just a little wider, it’s an invitation. A plea he’d answer by curling two fingers deep inside you, coaxing those needy little pants from your lips, watching as your face melted with pleasure.

His grip tightens. His hips jerk up into his hand.

He knows exactly how it would go. Knows that soon enough, you’d be begging—please, Cheol, more—and fuck, he’d give it to you. He’d slide your shorts down, tug that tiny tank top over your head, confirming what he already knew. That you have the most perfect fucking tits. And then he’d sink into you without hesitation, stretching you open, watching your mouth fall open as you take him. With every thrust, your body would give, your back arching, your breasts bouncing, your nails digging into his skin as he buried himself deeper.

Seungcheol groans low in his throat, head tilting back against the wall. His hand moves faster, chasing the high that feels so close.

Jesus fuck.

You’d let him know you were close, breathless and needy, voice barely more than a whimper. Cheol, I’m gonna—

And just to push you over that perfect edge, he’d press his thumb to your swollen clit, applying just the right amount of pressure, slow and deliberate. He’d swirl it in tight circles, watching your body tremble, feeling your walls flutter around him as you gasped his name. And that would be it.

The way you’d squeeze around him, your body tightening, back arching as you came apart beneath him…it would wreck him completely. He’d follow you down, groaning against your skin as his own pleasure took hold, spilling deep inside—

Seungcheol’s stomach clenches as the tension finally snaps. A low, strangled curse leaves his lips as his release spills into the wad of toilet paper in his hand, his whole body shuddering with relief.

For a long moment, he just breathes. Letting the fantasy slowly fade, leaving only the lingering heat and the undeniable truth that settles deep in his chest. You have him wrapped around your fucking finger.

The worst part? You don’t even know it.

And if this morning was any indication, this sure as hell wouldn’t be the last time he nearly loses it in front of you.

He cleans himself up and steps out of the bathroom, only to be met with Mika sitting in the hallway, staring at him with what can only be described as judgment.

Seungcheol narrows his eyes. “I’m not admitting to anything,” he mutters, sidestepping her as he grabs his boots.

Carrying his boots over to the sliding glass door, he slips them on before letting Mika outside. The mountain air is sharp and bracing, biting at his exposed skin, but he welcomes the chill. He needs it to clear his head, to get his damn hormones in check before he faces you.

His eyes land on the shovel propped against the railing, right where you left it. With a quiet sigh, he picks it up and starts clearing a spot in the snow for Mika. It’s a small thing, but he knows she won’t go until she has her designated space. He’d caught onto the routine not long after watching the two of you in the mornings, your sleepy voice murmuring to her, the way she’d nuzzle against your leg as you shoveled.

It’s second nature to you. And now, somehow, it’s becoming second nature to him too.

On his way back inside, he peeks into the bedroom. You’re still curled up beneath the blankets, your breathing soft and even, completely oblivious to the chaos he just put himself through. He swallows, shaking his head, and reaches for his sweatpants that are flung haphazardly over the dresser. He tugs them on before heading into the kitchen, flicking on the coffee pot. As he fills it with water, his gaze catches on the steady drip, drip, drip of the kitchen faucet after he’s turned it off.

Perfect.

It’s a small issue, easy to fix, but also the perfect excuse to escape the house with you for a few hours. Get out. Get some air. Act like a normal human being who isn’t fantasizing about his housemate every time she so much as breathes.

It’s a genius plan, really.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

And when you wake up, stretching with a sleepy yawn, he casually tosses out the idea. Just as he predicted, you happily agree. Now all he has to do is behave in public. Where other people are watching.

…

In the hardware store, Seungcheol notices how you’re walking closely by his side, the subtle shift in the space between you making his pulse quicken. He casually scans the aisle signs, looking for the one he needs, but his mind isn’t entirely focused on faucets. He feels the need to linger, to have you near just a few seconds longer.

Without overthinking, he places his hand on your lower back, guiding you toward the right aisle. It’s a simple gesture, but it feels significant. He pretends to inspect the faucet options, even though he already knows exactly which one he’s going to grab, but he takes his time, savoring the small moment.

While he’s there, he picks up a couple of tools he might need, he’s pretty sure the surgeon doesn’t have much in the handyman tool department. Junhui’s first aid kit, however, is incredible, containing everything from bandages to advanced trauma gear. All of which is perfectly organized. As a first responder, Seungcheol can respect it.

As he heads toward the checkout counter, his gaze drifts to a box of dog toys. He adds one to his pile without a second thought, a quiet smile tugging at his lips as he imagines Mika tearing into the new toy with her usual enthusiasm.

…

At lunch, you get a ding on your phone, and Seungcheol notices the frown that appears on your face.

“Everything alright?” he asks, thinking it might be a not-so-good update from Kate.

“I don’t know, it’s an email from my publishing team.” He watches as your eyes pan back and forth as you read the message, noticing the slight slump of your shoulders. “They want to have a call tomorrow morning to go over what I’ve submitted. That can’t be good.”

“Why do you think that?” he asks, his concern growing.

“They think I’m not exactly meeting expectations…” you sigh, hesitating for a moment before opening up. “I’m struggling with writing what they want versus how I see the story unfolding. I’m not sure the direction they’re pushing me in is the right one.”

Seungcheol leans back, thinking for a moment. “You should just write what you want. Forget about what your readers expect, forget about what your team suggests. Focus on what you want the story to be.”

You take another bite of your meal, letting his words sink in. A part of you feels the weight lift just a little, even as you continue to grapple with the balance between creative freedom and external pressure.

“I’m not sure how much help I’d be, but if you’d like me to read over what you have so far, I’d be happy to give you an outsider’s opinion,” Seungcheol offers.

You hadn’t expected him to offer, and it caught you off guard for a moment.

“Feeling a change of heart compared to the other day?” you tease, remembering how flustered he got after sneaking a peek at the spicy scene you were writing. “It’s alright. I’m sure after tomorrow I’ll at least know what they’re thinking. It’ll be good to talk it out.”

He shrugs with a slight smile. “Okay, but the offer still stands.”

“Thank you,” you say, genuinely appreciating the offer. “Now, it’s your turn, Cheol Chops. Tell me something about your life to make me feel better about mine,” you half-joke. “Got anything you need to vent about?”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow. “On a scale from zero to Junhui, how good are you at giving advice?”

You both know that Jun is the king of advice. He’s logical and always happy to provide a pro/con list. You smile at the thought. “Probably about 50% Jun, but I lean more towards emotional advice rather than logical. So, take that as a fair warning. What’s up?”

Seungcheol sighs, his voice quieter as he opens up. “I broke a promise that I can’t take back, nor can I fix it. It’s caused some issues at work, and my fire chief put me on temporary leave so I can work through it. But now I’m really thinking about what I want to do next.”

You listen intently, noticing the weight of his words.

“I mentioned the other day that I don’t think wildland firefighting is something I can keep up with. But I don’t want to give up firefighting entirely, so I’ve been considering transferring to an inner-city station. I’d still get the rush of helping people, but it wouldn’t be as physically or mentally demanding. I’d be working in shifts, and the change in scenery could be good for me.”

His eyes drift down, clearly conflicted. “I was really hoping to talk to Jun about it, but I didn't want to bother him, considering everything going on right now. I’m just not sure what the right choice is. What do you think? Should I go back after my leave and risk more trouble, or try something new and potentially fail at it?”

His question hangs in the air, a mix of uncertainty and hope. You can see how much he's wrestling with it, and you want to help him make the decision that feels right.

“I’d say try something new,” you reply thoughtfully, meeting his gaze. “Otherwise, you might find yourself back in the same place, struggling again. Plus, if you give the city option a shot and it doesn’t work out, at least you’ll know. It’s not a failure; it’s just learning something about yourself. And that’s always a win in my eyes. It takes courage to step into the unknown.”

Seungcheol feels a slight weight lift off his chest, a warmth spreading in his chest hearing you say that. It’s a small comfort, but it’s enough to give him a bit more clarity, a bit more peace to make that upcoming decision.

Day Seven of Surviving Seungcheol

Sleep was impossible last night. You were too tangled in anxious thoughts to get any actual rest, and now the nerves are eating you alive. You’re jittery as you sit in front of your laptop, the glow of the screen casting a faint light on your face. The meeting is about to start, and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest.

Every second that ticks by feels like an eternity, your hands nervously tapping against the edge of the desk as you wait for your team to join the call.

You sit up straighter after the familiar faces appear, trying to shake off the anxiety in your chest as your agent speaks, his voice steady but distant through the screen. You can feel the tension coiling inside you, your nerves prickling with each word.

“Thanks for meeting with us on such short notice,” your agent continues, giving you a polite but businesslike smile. “I know you mentioned being out of town, so we appreciate you making time for us virtually.”

You nod, offering a weak smile in return. “Of course. I’m glad we could make it work.” Your voice comes out a little more strained than you intend, but they don’t seem to notice.

The conversation moves into expectations. They want ‘less dense material, more filler and fluff between the spicy scenes,’ your agent explains, his tone matter-of-fact.

Your heart sinks. Fluff? You don’t want to write a story full of empty space. You’ve poured your soul into creating a rich world, with real characters and stakes, and now they’re asking for less of that?

You can feel the frustration bubbling up, but you push it back, trying to keep your voice steady. “So, you want me to cut out the fantasy aspects? Completely?”

Your agent shifts, clearly trying to soften the blow. “Not entirely. Maybe just scale it back. We think a more erotic romance-focused direction will make the story more accessible. It’ll be easier to market.”

The words sting. You’ve always known writing was a business, but this? This feels like a betrayal of everything you’ve worked toward.

“But that’s not what my reader base expects,” you argue, leaning forward. “They’ve followed me for the story, for the world-building. They expect something more than just... fluff.”

Your agent presses on, oblivious to your concerns. “Look, we think this could broaden your reach, and gain thousands of new readers. We’re just thinking of your career in the long run.”

You feel a knot forming in your stomach. Thousands of new readers? As if the thousands you currently have aren’t enough? The idea of broadening your reader base sounds nice on paper, but what about the readers who’ve supported you from the start? What about the integrity of your work?

“But what about the people who’ve been with me since the beginning?” you ask, voice shaking slightly. “Don’t they deserve to see the series grow, not change into something...plain and unoriginal?”

Your agent’s expression tightens. “Without this kind of direction, there won’t be another book in the series. We can’t keep moving forward unless we adapt.”

The words hang heavy in the air, and you struggle to hold it together. The meeting wraps up soon after, but it feels like you’re in a fog, your thoughts spinning. You want to fight back, to defend your story, but the weight of their words crushes you.

You slouch in your seat still just as confused as you were before. What now?

Whenever something bad happens in your life, you’ve always used writing as an escape. But what are you supposed to do when writing becomes an issue?

Sighing, you open your document, eyes scanning over the words you once felt so confident about. Even now, despite everything, they still feel right. And as you reread where you left off, the next scene unfolds effortlessly in your mind.

You lose yourself in your draft, letting Seungcheol’s words echo in your head—write for yourself, write what you want. For the first time in a while, the words flow without hesitation, without second-guessing. Hours slip away unnoticed as your fingers dance over the keyboard, lost in the world you’re creating.

When Seungcheol returns from his run, you hesitate. The weight of your earlier meeting lingers, but you don’t have the energy to explain the looming uncertainty of your novel. How, depending on what happens next, either your team will break your contract, or your readers will revolt over a boring porn-only sequel. Instead, you keep typing, pushing the thoughts away, if only for a little while longer.

Seungcheol doesn’t need words to know something is wrong. He can sense it. The weight in your shoulders, the distant look in your eyes, the way your fingers hover over your keyboard as if second-guessing every word. It doesn’t take much to assume that your meeting didn’t go well.

He wants to ask, but he also knows you well enough after your short time together to recognize that, right now, you’re not ready to talk about it. Still, that doesn’t mean he won’t do something about it.

He hates seeing you like this. If he could, he’d take your burdens onto his own shoulders without hesitation. He’d do anything to lift your mood, to see your lips curve into a genuine smile again. And if you cried, fuck, if they made you cry? He’d burn the whole damn world down just to set things right.

For now, though, he settles for something smaller. Something simple. He disappears into the kitchen, rummaging through cabinets until he finds what he’s looking for. A few minutes later, the scent of freshly made hot chocolate drifts through the air.

He returns with two full mugs, topped with whipped cream and mini marshmallows. He sets one of the mugs beside you without a word before sinking into the chair across from you.

You sigh, closing your laptop before reaching for the mug. The warmth seeps into your fingers as you take a sip, letting the rich aroma settle some of the unease twisting in your chest.

The two of you sit there in silence, but it’s the comfortable kind. No pressure, no expectations, just the quietness of passing time and the mesmerizing sight of snow falling beyond the window.

When your drinks are finished, Seungcheol takes both mugs to the sink. As he rinses them out, he casually suggests, “You should take a break from writing, clear your head a little.” Then, he turns toward Mika, who’s curled up on the floor. “Mika, wanna go play outside?”

She springs up immediately, her tail wagging as she yaps her answer. He grins. “Tell your mom to get dressed. We wanna play in the snow.”

Mika barks again, turning toward you as if relaying the message. You can’t help but smile.

“Alright, alright. I’m coming.”

Bundling up in your winter gear, the three of you step outside into the crisp mountain air.

Mika takes off instantly, rolling in the fresh snow, kicking it up into the air like a puppy experiencing winter for the first time. She’s gonna be so sad in a few days when it’s time to leave the mountains and head back to the city where it’s already spring.

You laugh, watching her antics until something cold smacks into your side.

You blink, looking down at the splattered bits of snow before turning toward Seungcheol. He’s standing there, hands tucked innocently behind his back, lips pressed together like he’s trying to suppress a smirk.

“Oh, it’s on,” you warn, crouching to scoop up a handful of snow. You bunch it together in your mittens before launching it at him. It hits him square in the chest, and he stumbles back slightly, eyes wide with surprise at your strength

“Cheolmate,” you declare triumphantly, playing on the word checkmate.

His surprise quickly shifts into a determined grin. “Alright, you asked for it.”

Snowballs fly back and forth as laughter fills the backyard. Mika jumps between you both, snapping at the falling snowflakes and occasionally catching a snowball in her mouth, only to crunch it into oblivion.

Eventually, she loses interest in the fight altogether and gets the zoomies, tunneling through the snow and popping her head up every few feet, like a giddy little groundhog.

Seungcheol pauses mid-throw, watching her with amusement. “Your dog is ridiculous.”

You laugh, cheeks flushed from the cold and the playful chaos. “Yeah, but she fits right in.”

Seungcheol chuckles, moving to stand beside you. Watching you smile, hearing your laughter, it’s everything to him. The way your eyes crinkle at the corners as you watch Mika, the way your dimples deepen with each laugh, the way your entire face lights up with unfiltered joy when you meet his eyes. It’s mesmerizing. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything more beautiful.

This is exactly what you need. And if he has anything to do with it, he’ll make sure you keep smiling like this. Always.

The snow begins to fall heavier, dusting both of you with a delicate layer of white. Mika is still running circles in the snow, but your focus is on each other now.

Without thinking, Seungcheol pulls off one of his gloves and reaches out, his fingers brushing gently over your face as he wipes away the snowflakes clinging to your eyelashes. His touch lingers, warm against your chilled skin, and his thumb instinctively strokes your cheek.

Your breath catches when his eyes flick down to your lips, and suddenly, the playful atmosphere shifts into something more intense.

Neither of you move for a moment. You stare into each other's eyes as the world around you fades, except for the quiet inhale you take when he slowly leans in.

Before you even realize it, your faces are close enough that his breath fans across your lips.

And then, he finally closes the distance.

His lips press softly against yours; he’s testing the waters and savoring the moment. But the second he feels you respond, the hesitation vanishes. The kiss deepens, slow and deliberate, laced with emotions neither of you have dared to voice. His hand cradles your face, fingers brushing along your chilled skin as he tilts your chin, pulling you impossibly closer.

It’s warm, intoxicating, perfect.

Your arms wind around his neck, fingers threading into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against your lips. He responds in kind, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, drawing a sinful little moan from deep within you.

Seungcheol smiles into the kiss, reveling in how effortlessly you melt into him. How he somehow knows exactly what you like, what you crave. It’s instinctive, effortless like you were always meant to be right here, in his arms.

The world around you ceases to exist. The snowfall, the cold, the rest of the universe, it all fades into insignificance. There is only him. Only the way he kisses you like you’re the most important thing in the world.

When you finally pull apart, your foreheads rest together, breath mingling in the crisp air. Your heart stammers wildly in your chest as a terrifying, undeniable truth settles in.

Shit.

Day Nine of Surviving Falling For Seungcheol

Ever since you accepted the fact that you have feelings for Seungcheol (very strong feelings, the kind that makes you want to do crazy, reckless, and borderline courageous things) you haven’t been sure how to act around him.

The past two days have been an absolute disaster. You’ve been a clumsy fool, tripping over your own feet, your words, your thoughts. Which, to be fair, isn’t all that different from any other given day. But now? Now it’s worse, because he’s here witnessing it all, and probably very aware of the fact that he’s the one doing it to you.

Yet, Seungcheol is acting completely normal. Like nothing happened. Like that kiss, the one that turned your entire world upside down, didn’t affect him at all.

Unless...it really didn’t affect him.

And in that case, you’re utterly and completely screwed.

You’re not exactly avoiding each other, but neither of you seems willing to make the first move. Or, technically, the second. It’s a silent game of waiting to see who will cave first.

You want to say screw it and just kiss him again. But what if it was a fluke? What if he only kissed you to make you feel better? Then again, who does that? Who kisses someone just to cheer them up? There had to be something behind it. Right?

You don’t know when it happened or how, maybe it was when he pulled you from your wrecked car, or when he made you coffee that first morning, or when he looked at you like that after your kiss.

Or maybe, just maybe, you've felt this way all along…

After helping clean up dinner, you busy yourself putting away the clean dishes. Watching Seungcheol cook is one thing, but watching him do something as simple as washing dishes? That’s an entirely different level of unfair. The way his forearms flex, the way his hand veins pop out as he scrubs a plate clean, it makes you want to throw all logic out the window and climb him like a tree.

Boyfriend material. Without a doubt.

You need to get a grip.

Sensing your stare, he glances over his shoulder, one brow slightly raised, and you immediately whip your head away. Play it cool. You suddenly need a distraction, so you head to the fridge, reaching for a bottle of water—except, of course, the one you want is just out of reach.

Before you can even debate climbing onto the counter, Seungcheol is there, stepping in behind you without hesitation.

“Here, I got it.”

He moves in close, his chest nearly brushing against your back as he stretches over you. One hand instinctively finds your waist to steady himself, his fingers warm even through the fabric of your shirt. The brief contact sends a jolt through you, but before you can dwell on it, he grabs the bottle and hands it over.

You barely have time to mutter a thanks before your grip fails you and the cold bottle slips from your fingers, tumbling to the floor.

With a sigh, you bend down to retrieve it only to realize that Seungcheol hasn’t stepped back as far as you thought. Your ass brushes against his thigh, and the accidental touch sends a shockwave through both of you.

Startled, you jolt upright, only to whack your head against the counter.

“Shit—are you okay?” Seungcheol asks, immediately reaching for you.

“I’m okay, really,” you insist, waving him off despite the way your face flames with embarrassment.

…

Seungcheol feels bad, really bad. He can’t shake the thought that this is his fault. You seem so uncomfortable around him now that you’re practically injuring yourself just trying to avoid him. At least, that’s what he assumes.

Every time he speaks to you or even just walks by, he notices the way you tense up, how your responses are shorter than usual, like you’re trying to keep him at arm’s length. And it kills him.

But a part of him, a hopeful part, wants to believe that you’re not uncomfortable because you regret the kiss. Maybe you’re feeling the same way he does, wanting more but unsure how to ask for it.

He’s trying to be considerate, giving you space, not wanting to pressure you into anything. But at the same time, he’s starting to second-guess everything. Are your subtle reactions just in his head? Is he reading too much into the way your eyes linger on him, the way your breath hitches when he gets too close?

Or is he not imagining it at all?

He’s gotta do something to figure you out. That’s his only option at this point. If you’d just give him the smallest hint that you want him, he’ll take the lead—gladly. He’ll show you exactly what happens when you both stop tiptoeing around whatever this is and finally give in.

“You know,” you say suddenly, breaking the silence, “Besides the fact that we’ve been stuck together for the last week, we don’t actually know a whole lot about each other.”

Seungcheol finishes rinsing out the sink, dries his hands on a dish towel, and turns to lean against the counter. He crosses his arms before suggesting something, “Huh, you have a point. Maybe we should change that. Let’s play a game.”

You narrow your eyes. “What kind of game?”

“Truth or dare,” he says, failing to hide the smirk tugging at his lips.

You huff out a laugh. “Really? That’s what we’re going with?”

“Yep. Unless you’re scared.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine. You go first, then.”

“Dare.” He doesn’t hesitate.

You think for a moment, then grin. “I dare you to call your mom so I can talk to her again. I’m sure she’s got quite a few stories of you to share.”

One of his eyebrows arches before he lets out a chuckle. “Or?”

“Or, if you pass, you have to take a drink.”

Seungcheol snorts, shaking his head. “Hand me a drink then, hun.”

It slips out so naturally, so effortlessly, that he doesn’t even try to recover from it. Why should he? You’ve got an entire arsenal of nicknames for him, what’s the big deal if he throws one back?

His eyes trail down your backside as you turn to the fridge, returning with two beers. He watches the way you move, how your shirt lifts up just slightly when you grab the bottles, revealing a little slice of skin where he’d like to place his lips.

Seungcheol swallows hard and extends his hand out for one of the beers when you turn back around. “Under any other circumstances, I’d let you chat with my mom,” he says with a teasing smile. “But not tonight.” He cracks open the bottle, his gaze locked on yours as he lifts it to his lips.

You roll your eyes, taking a sip of your drink to settle your nerves.

“Alright, your turn now.”

“Truth,” you say, chickening out.

He grins, sensing your hesitation. “When was the last time you went on a date?”

You groan, “Oh god. The day we met, actually. I ripped my pants escaping through the restaurant’s bathroom window, that’s how bad the date was.”

Seungcheol laughs, shaking his head. That absolutely sounds like something you’d do.

“Kate set me up with the guy, and it was a total disaster. He was rude, his manners were just for show, and it felt like every nice thing he did came with an expectation. Like if he opened the door for me, I owed him something in return, you know?”

Seungcheol's grip tightens around his beer bottle. He does know. And the thought of some guy treating you like that makes his blood boil.

“Okay, your turn again.”

“Truth.”

“Why did you kiss me?” you blurt out.

Seungcheol meets your gaze, his expression is soft but unwavering. “Because I really wanted to,” he admits, remembering every little detail of that kiss. Like how warm you were, how perfectly you fit in his arms, how he hadn’t been able to think about anything else since.

Your breath hitches for a moment, but you quickly recover. “Dare.”

A wild thought crosses his mind, and once it’s there, he can’t shake it. He leans in slightly, watching you carefully. “I dare you to finish your drink and then join me in the hot tub.”

The challenge in his voice sends a thrill down your spine. Without hesitation, you tip your head back, downing the rest of your beer. Then, without breaking eye contact, you peel off your shirt, revealing the sheer bra underneath.

“You coming?” you ask playfully, tossing your shirt aside and heading toward the backyard.

Seungcheol just stands there for a second, his brain short-circuiting. He was expecting a little resistance, maybe a joke, but this? Oh, this is so much better.

Swallowing hard, he follows you onto the deck, where you’re slipping off your pants. Fuck. He quickly removes the hot tub cover while you turn it on. The air might be a little chilly, but his body is running hot.

And then you bend over to test the water temperature, still in nothing but your bra and panties, and Seungcheol has to force himself to look anywhere else. If someone had told him earlier today that by nightfall, he’d be out here with you, watching you strip down like it was the most natural thing in the world, he’d have laughed.

But now? Now, he’s just thanking whatever divine force made this his lucky day.

He tosses his shirt aside, then his pants, barely paying attention to where they land. What he does pay attention to, though, is the way your eyes rake over him, the way your breath quickens for just a second. Another perk of being a firefighter is that the hard training keeps you in shape. All those workouts? Yeah, they were worth it just for this moment, just to see you looking at him like that.

“Help me in?” you ask, reaching out.

He takes your hand without hesitation, steadying you as you step up and lower yourself into the steaming, bubbling water. His grip lingers for just a second longer than necessary before he follows you in, sighing as the heat works into his muscles.

“This is nice,” he says, settling in, tilting his head back against the edge. The jets work at the tension in his lower back, but the real relief is sitting across from him, grinning like you know exactly what you’re doing to him.

“Mmm, it really is,” you hum in agreement. Then, with a mischievous, playful glint in your eye, you remind him, “It’s your turn, by the way.”

Oh, right. The game.

“Dare,” he says, smirking, willing to test just how far you’re willing to push this thing between the two of you.

Your grin deepens. “Take off your boxers.”

He arches a brow, amused but not remotely hesitant. Maintaining eye contact, he lifts his hips just enough to slide the soaked fabric down his legs and tosses them onto the deck with the rest of his clothes. The water swirls around him, warm and teasing, but nothing about this feels as thrilling as the way your smile slowly spreads, your tongue darting out to wet your lips as you watch him.

“I didn’t think you actually would,” you tease.

He leans in just a little, voice low, teasing right back. “One thing you should know about me, sweetheart,” his smirk turns positively sinful, “I never turn down a challenge.”

You roll your eyes and splash water in his face. "Coupsie Daisy, my bad," you half-heartedly apologize, even though you’re anything but sorry.

Seungcheol wipes the water from his face slowly, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as he stares at you with darkened eyes. The playful banter between you shifts into something heavier.

Without overthinking, you move. Climbing onto his lap, your knees press into the seat on either side of him, your barely-there panties doing nothing to hide how hard he already is beneath you. A shaky breath leaves your lips at the contact, and you feel the way his grip tightens on your waist, the way his fingertips begin to trace the curve of your spine.

There’s no pretending now. No more second-guessing. Your bodies are reacting on instinct, drawn to each other like it’s inevitable.

His voice is lower when he finally speaks, his breath warm against your lips. "Are we really going to do this?"

“That depends,” you whisper, rolling your hips just enough to make his fingers dig into your skin. “Is it a dare?”

His jaw clenches. “Do you want it to be?”

“No,” you breathe, tilting forward, your lips brushing against his. “I just want you.”

That’s all the confirmation he needs.

Seungcheol crashes his lips against yours, swallowing your gasp as his hands roam your back, pulling you in until there’s no space left between you.

This kiss is nothing like the last. That one had been sweet and gentle. But this? This is fire, hunger, and need all wrapped into one.

You moan into his mouth, the sound vibrating between you, sending a shiver straight to his cock. The reaction is immediate, and he twitches beneath you, hard and heavy against your core.

You roll your hips again, relishing the way he groans against your lips. “Fuck, you feel so big,” you murmur between feverish kisses, your voice laced with desperation.

His tongue sweeps into your mouth, deepening the kiss as his fingers reach behind you. With practiced fingers, he unclasps your bra, letting it slip from your shoulders and down your arms before it disappears into the water.

Seungcheol pulls back just enough to take you in, his gaze hungry as it rakes over your bare chest. “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he breathes, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

Then, without warning, he dips his head down, capturing one in his mouth. The heat of his tongue swirls around the sensitive nub before he sucks, making you arch into him with a soft whimper. He moves to the other, giving it just as much attention, his teeth grazing teasingly before soothing the sting with his tongue.

Your fingers sink into his damp hair, nails scratching against his scalp as you pant, “Cheol, I need more.”

Your hand drifts between your bodies, wrapping around his stiff length beneath the water. The moment your fingers curl around him, a deep, guttural groan rumbles from his chest. And that’s when he just about loses it.

“Wait,” he rasps against your lips, pulling back just enough to press his forehead against yours. His breath is ragged, his self-control hanging by a thread. “Wait, baby. Not here.”

His fingers grip your hips, keeping you steady as he stands, lifting you effortlessly in his arms. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist, your arms looping around his neck as he carries you inside.

His lips find yours again as he moves, each step purposeful. He’s determined. The cool air of the house is a stark contrast to the heat rolling off both of you, but it only makes you cling to him tighter.

He doesn’t stop until he reaches your bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. Then, with a wicked smirk, he lays you down on the bed, hovering over you with darkened eyes full of promise.

"Now," he murmurs, brushing his lips along your jaw, down your neck, "Let me show you how much I want you."

His lips reconnect with your breast, tongue tracing delicate circles over your sensitive skin, while his hand continues its descent. His fingers skim over your stomach, teasing along the waistband of your soaked panties before slipping beneath them.

A small gasp leaves your lips when he pushes the fabric aside, his fingers sliding effortlessly through your slick folds.

Seungcheol pulls back just slightly, his heated gaze locked onto your face as he curls his fingers into you, slow and deliberate. He watches the way your brows furrow, your mouth parting in a silent moan, completely captivated by how responsive you are to him.

“So fucking gorgeous,” he repeats, voice thick with desire as he leans in, capturing your lips once more.

The pressure in your core builds rapidly, his fingers coaxing you closer and closer to the edge. Every movement, every stroke, brings you closer and closer to the edge. Your whole body tightens in anticipation. You’re right there—

Suddenly, the sharp chime of your ringtone cuts through the air, breaking the spell between you both. Your breath is still ragged as your eyes snap to your phone on the nightstand, Kate’s photo lighting up the screen.

Seungcheol tears away from you like shrapnel, realization washing over him as he runs a hand through his damp hair. His chest rises and falls rapidly, and for a moment, he just stares at the phone, then back at you, still spread beneath him, panting, needy.

“You should probably answer that,” he says, voice rough as he clears his throat. He hesitates for only a second before adding, “Maybe we should call it a night.”

Before you can protest, he leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, as if to ground himself, before stepping back and leaving you sitting there, exposed and still trembling from the almost earth-shattering orgasm you were supposed to have.

With a deep breath, you shake yourself out of your daze and reach for the phone.

“Hello?” you answer, voice still breathless.

Kate doesn’t seem to notice. “I have good news! Surgery went well, and we should be home sooner than we thought. I’ll know more tomorrow, but I just wanted to give you a heads-up.”

She continues explaining the procedure, detailing what the surgeons discovered and their plan moving forward, but you’re only half-listening.

Your body is still buzzing, your mind stuck on the way Seungcheol had just touched you, the way he looked at you like you were something he wanted to consume entirely.

And worse than that? The way you still want him right this minute.

“That’s great news. I’m sure Jun is relieved.”

“He is,” Kate says, her voice lighter than it has been in days. Then, after a brief pause, she adds, “Now, want to tell me what took you so long to answer? I called twice.”

Your stomach flips. “Oh, um. I was just busy doing…chores…” you lie, hoping she doesn’t catch the slight tremor in your voice.

Kate is silent for a second, and you can practically hear the smirk forming on her lips. “Oh really? Chores? Is that Cheol’s newest nickname?”

Your mouth falls open. “Shut up,” you grumble, face burning.

She just cackles. “Mm-hmm. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

“Yeah, yeah, bye.”

“Bye! And don’t forget to use protection!” she sings before hanging up.

You groan, tossing your phone onto the bed, and flopping down beside it. Of course, she figured it out. Sisterly intuition should be illegal.

After a deep breath, you drag yourself up and crack your door open, peeking into the hallway. Seungcheol’s door is shut. He’s probably already asleep.

With a sigh, you change into your pajamas, leaving your door slightly ajar. Not just for Mika when she finally decides to come to bed, but for him, too. You know, just in case.

But the house stays quiet, and the only visitor to your room that night is Mika, who hops onto the bed and curls up at your feet.

Still, as you settle under the covers, your mind drifts back to the heat of Seungcheol’s hands, the weight of his body, the hunger in his gaze.

You fall asleep thinking about all the ways he could satisfy you. would satisfy you, if only you’d had just a little more time.

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lowryuk · 2 months ago

Text

What Was Mine.

Pairing: Eren x F!Reader, Jean x F!Reader

Word Count: 10K

Summary: Your older sister, Mikasa, steals your first love so you get your lick back. But it becomes a little more complicated…

A/N: Ahhhh, my first fic on here!! Let me know your thoughts and if you’d like to see an alternative version because I wrote this like 3 different times before settling on this one LOL.

(Warnings are below the undercut)

Warning(s): Angst, reader is adopted, cheating, heavy betrayal, rough sex, oral (fem receiving), fingering, overstimulation, dirty talk, possessive!eren, multiple orgasms, dry humping, teasing, begging, cum eating, unprotected sex (wrap ur Willy pls), lowkey sad reader but it gets better, happy ending

I will post this on AO3 as soon as I get invited which should be around sometime next week!

There was a time when Jean was your everything. The boy who made your heart race, the one you thought you'd grow old with. He was your first love, your best friend—the one person who made the world feel small and safe with just a look. You were so sure of him, so certain that no matter what, he’d always be yours.

You met him at a party. One of those suffocating high school gatherings where the air was thick with sweat and cheap beer, where kids who barely liked each other pretended they were family for the night. You weren’t supposed to be there—Mikasa had dragged you along, making it clear she wasn’t going to hold your hand or play babysitter.

She didn’t say it outright, but you knew what she was thinking. You were only there because of her. Because her parents had taken you in, raised you as their own. Because no matter how many years passed, no matter how many times people called you “sisters,” you would always be the outsider.

And then there was Jean.

He was leaning against the kitchen counter, red solo cup in hand, grinning at something Connie had said. His laughter was loud, careless, the kind that filled a room without trying. The dim lighting made the sharp angles of his face more defined, casting shadows that made him look older than he was. He exuded confidence—comfortable in his own skin in a way most high school boys weren’t.

Then, as if sensing your gaze, he looked at you.

And for a second, everything else—the music, the voices, the heat of the packed house—faded into the background.

You turned away quickly, pulse stammering in your throat, but it was too late. The moment had already settled into your bones, anchoring itself somewhere deep, somewhere permanent.

The party moved on without you. People came and went, music thumped against the walls, conversations turned to white noise. But you felt his presence like a weight against your skin. Every time you dared to glance in his direction, he was already looking back.

It wasn’t until much later, when the night had blurred into a drunken haze of movement and sound, that fate intervened. Someone shoved past you in the crowd, sending you stumbling forward—right into him.

A hand caught your wrist, steadying you before you could fall.

"Woah, you good?" His voice was smooth up close, warmer than you expected.

You lifted your head, suddenly hyper aware of how close you were. The scent of him—something faintly like cologne, something distinctly his—lingered between you.

"Yeah," you managed, breathless. "Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention."

Jean smirked. It wasn’t mocking—it was curious, amused, like he’d just discovered something interesting.

"You’re Mikasa’s sister, right?"

There it was again. That title.

It shouldn’t have bothered you, but it did. You were used to hearing it, used to the way people looked at you when they said it. Like they were reminding you of something you were supposed to remember.

You nodded, half-expecting him to brush you off, to turn back to his friends. But he didn’t. Instead, he let his gaze flicker over you, something unreadable in his expression.

"You want a drink?" he asked, and somehow, it felt less like a question and more like a challenge.

You weren’t sure why, but you followed him.

The next hour passed in a blur. You weren’t drinking much, but Jean was intoxicating enough on his own—his sharp wit, his effortless charm, the way he leaned in just a little when he talked to you, like you were the only person worth listening to. He had a way of making you feel seen, like every glance was intentional, like every smirk was meant just for you.

It was stupid, how easily he pulled you in. How quickly you forgot the world outside of this moment, this feeling.

And then, at some point, the night was over. The house was thinning out, the music quieter, the air cooler as you stepped outside. Jean walked with you, hands in his pockets, eyes flicking over to you in intervals like he was debating something.

Then, finally—hesitantly—he stopped.

"Hey," he said, voice softer than before. "I had fun tonight."

You looked up at him, searching his face, waiting for him to say something else. And when he didn’t, when he only stood there watching you, waiting, you knew.

It happened before you could overthink it. He leaned in first, but you met him halfway.

The kiss was slow, deliberate, lingering just long enough to make your chest tighten. His hands found your waist, fingers pressing lightly against the fabric of your shirt, grounding you. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t reckless—it was the kind of kiss that felt like a promise.

And back then, you believed in promises.

You were young. Naïve. Convinced that love, once found, couldn’t be undone.

Because at that moment, Jean was everything.

And he was for the last 4 years until his birthday night.

It was supposed to be his night. Jean’s 20th birthday—the one you’d planned so carefully, hoping to surprise him. You’d put everything together: the decorations, the cake, even his favorite drinks. You had spent hours making sure every detail was perfect because you knew how much he appreciated things like this. He came in, eyes wide in surprise, and when he saw you, there was that warmth in his expression—the kind that made your chest tighten. He was grateful, and you were too, basking in the glow of his genuine happiness.

The night went by in a blur of laughter, music, and clinking glasses. Jean spent time with his friends, and you were busy with yours, navigating the usual ebb and flow of a party. You watched him from across the room occasionally, smiling to yourself at how easy he was to talk to, how he’d light up a room just by being in it.

It wasn’t until it was time for the cake cutting that you realized he had slipped away. You looked around the crowded room, your gaze flicking to the spots where you’d seen him last, but he wasn’t there.

Curious, you made your way through the house, trying to spot him. Your eyes flicked over every face you passed, but he was nowhere to be found. Maybe he was in the backyard, you thought. You started searching the rooms upstairs, thinking maybe he just needed a moment to himself.

Then, as you walked past Mikasa’s door, you heard it.

His voice.

It made your blood run cold.

Without thinking, your hand reached for the door handle, a nervous tremor running through your fingers. The knob creaked under your touch, and as the door cracked open, your heart dropped straight into your stomach.

There they were.

Jean. Mikasa.

Kissing.

His hand in between your sister's legs and his other hand gripping on her breast. You froze, unable to tear your eyes away. Your lungs tightened, and before you knew it, tears started to blur your vision. The ache in your chest was so sharp, it felt like your entire world had just shattered.

They didn’t even notice you. Not at first. They were lost in each other. But when you sobbed—just once, a broken gasp of disbelief—it was enough to catch their attention.

Jean’s eyes widened in horror, and Mikasa, too, seemed startled, but the damage was done. You couldn’t move fast enough. Your body turned on its own accord, propelling you back downstairs, retreating into the chaos of the party.

The voices, the music, the laughter—it all collided in your mind, distorting everything around you. You didn’t care anymore. None of it mattered.

Your best friend grabbed hold of you, her face contorted in concern as she noticed your tear-streaked face and the way your breathing was shallow, rapid.

“Hey,” she said, voice trembling with worry. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

But you couldn’t speak. The words were tangled in your throat.

She rushed you out of the house and took you back to her place. Your phone buzzed in your pocket—Jean, messages, calls, apologies. You couldn’t bring yourself to read any of them. Without even thinking, you blocked Jean on everything. Facebook. Instagram. Texts. Calls. You didn’t want anything from him anymore.

You collapsed in her arms, sobbing until your body felt like it might break.

The blowout after that night was messy. People took sides. Jean and Mikasa’s friends stood by them, defending what they’d done, making excuses. But you couldn’t stomach it.

Even your parents, who didn’t agree with what Mikasa had done, found a way to justify it. “She’s your sister, and maybe they were in love. Maybe you were in the way of that.”

“Life is strange,” they said.

And through all of it, they expected you to forgive her. “Please, find it in your heart. She’s still your sister.”

It wasn’t that easy.

Time passed, and you focused on healing—on trying to forget, or at least bury the pain long enough to function. But the ache never really went away. Not when Mikasa and Jean made their relationship official. Not when she brought him around the house, acting like nothing had ever happened. And definitely not when you’d have to listen, helpless, to the sounds of them together.

The sound of her laughing, of their whispers, of him—him—with her, in the same spaces that used to feel like home.

The betrayal was a weight you couldn’t lift, and you started to wonder if you ever would.

Their relationship seemed to be smooth sailing after that. Mikasa and Jean were inseparable, the picture-perfect couple everyone admired. She flaunted it, of course. Every chance she got, she rubbed it in your face, whether it was with a sly comment, a smug smile, or the way she’d casually mention Jean’s name in conversation—like she had to make sure you knew, that you saw how happy she was. How perfect they were.

And it stung every time. Every time she smiled too brightly when she mentioned him, or when they’d show up together at family dinners, laughing, holding hands, as if everything was normal. But nothing felt normal. Not to you.

It wasn’t that you wanted Jean back. You’d buried that pain deep down, letting time work its numbing magic. But seeing them together—seeing her with him—was a constant reminder of how she had taken something you once thought was yours. And for what? Was it worth it? Was he worth all of this?

Then, a year later, Eren Yeager stepped into the picture, and suddenly, everything changed.

He was new to the city, fresh-faced and confident, a star on the court with a reputation that preceded him. He was everything Jean wasn’t—intense, magnetic, with a presence that made people stop and take notice. Eren wasn’t just another guy. He was the guy.

It didn’t take long for him to become well-known at university. You could see the effect he had on people—on the girls who couldn’t stop talking about him, on the guys who wanted to be him, and the way Mikasa’s eyes followed him whenever he walked by.

At first, you thought it was just harmless admiration. But soon, you could tell it was something more. You saw the way she’d pause when he entered the room, how her face softened in a way it never did around Jean.

And Jean noticed too. He wasn’t blind. It didn’t take long for him to start feeling the pressure—especially when Mikasa began to subtly pull away from him, her attention now split between her boyfriend and her new, undeniable crush.

Jean wasn’t the kind of guy to back down, but you could see it in his eyes, the insecurity creeping in. Mikasa was slipping from his grasp, and Eren was right there, making his move without even realizing it.

You, on the other hand, stayed quiet. You weren’t going to say anything. You weren’t going to make it worse. But it was hard not to notice the way Eren’s presence changed the dynamic—how Mikasa’s attention shifted.

It was like watching a slow-motion car crash and you couldn’t look away.

Connie and Sasha were quick to befriend Eren, welcoming him into their circle as if they’d known him for years. Mikasa, unsurprisingly, was thrilled, her excitement visible every time he was around. It didn’t take long for you to notice the shift. Jean, on the other hand, was becoming noticeably more distant, his cool façade hiding what was likely insecurity. He was fading from the group.

Then, one evening, it all came to light. Over a casual family dinner, Mikasa casually mentioned that she and Jean had split. No drama, no confrontation, just a matter-of-fact statement as though it didn’t matter.

And it hit you like a ton of bricks. Your sister had ruined something that was once beautiful—for no damn reason. Mikasa had always been so quick to go after what she wanted. Now, she had Eren, and you? Well, you were left to pick up the pieces of what she had torn apart.

It didn’t take long for Mikasa to set her sights on Eren. Within a month, they were official. She paraded him around like a trophy, gushing about how he was the captain of the basketball team, how he carried the team to victory every game. She thrived on the attention—not just from him, but from everyone else on campus. She was dating the golden boy, and she wanted everyone to know it.

But it all faltered when Eren met you.

It happened on a quiet evening. Your parents were away on business, Mikasa was supposed to be with Eren, and for once, you had the house to yourself. Dressed in nothing but a pair of shorts that barely passed as clothing and a loose tank top, you were sprawled out on the couch, enjoying the rare solitude.

Then the front door burst open.

You turned your head just as Mikasa rushed inside, Eren trailing behind her. You sat up slightly, the movement making your top slip lower, exposing more than enough to be considered inappropriate. Mikasa's eyes narrowed.

“What the hell are you wearing?” she snapped.

You blinked, feigning innocence. “Didn’t know you were coming back, let alone bringing someone. I’m just in my comfy clothes.” You shrugged, making no move to cover up.

It was then that you felt his stare.

Eren hadn’t looked away since the moment he walked in. His gaze was heavy, dark, lingering. He wasn’t subtle about it either, drinking you in like he was committing every inch of you to memory. And that’s when the idea struck.

At first, this was accidental. A chance encounter. But now? Now it was an opportunity.

You knew Mikasa better than anyone. You had watched her cycle through relationships, but never had she been as enamored as she was with Eren. It wasn’t just him—she loved what he represented. The status, the envy in other girls’ eyes when she walked into a room with him on her arm. He was an ego boost, a walking validation of her importance.

And you made it your mission to take him from her.

It started subtly. The skimpy outfits when he came over, the calculated flirting when Mikasa was too preoccupied scrolling through her phone to listen to him go on about last night’s game. But you listened. You engaged. You actually cared about what he had to say, and it didn’t help that you were breathtaking while doing it.

And Eren noticed.

The way his eyes lingered a second too long, the way his voice dropped when he spoke to you, the way he leaned in just a little closer than necessary. You could feel the shift, the unspoken tension building between you both. He was slipping, and you were ready to catch him.

Then, at some overcrowded party, it finally happened.

Mikasa was off somewhere, lost in the sea of her so-called friends, and you had been searching for him. You found him in the back of the house, seated on a couch, playing cards with a group of guys you didn’t recognize. The moment he spotted you, his lips curled into a smirk, and he patted the empty space beside him.

You didn’t hesitate.

They dealt you into the game, but neither of you were paying attention. His arm draped lazily across the back of the couch, his fingers tracing light patterns against your bare shoulder. You leaned into it, just slightly, but enough for him to notice.

The tension was suffocating, electric.

You weren’t sure who moved first. Maybe it was him, maybe it was you. But suddenly, his fingers were in your hair, tilting your head toward him, and your hands found his jaw, pulling him down. The moment your lips met, the rest of the world ceased to exist.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn't careful.

It was desperate.

Eren’s arm curled around your waist, dragging you onto his lap like he had been waiting for this moment all his life. His hands burned against your skin, his touch rough, hungry. The kiss deepened, his tongue sweeping past your lips, tasting like whiskey and recklessness.

The guys around you barely reacted, either too high to care or too used to this kind of debauchery. But it didn’t matter.

You feel the bulge growing in his pants and moan softly when the denim of his jeans slightly rubs against your clit. You try to pull away, just enough to see how far Eren is willing to go, to test him, to see if he’ll hesitate.

But he doesn’t.

His grip tightens around your waist, keeping you flush against him, his breath hot against your lips. His eyes, half-lidded and dark with something unmistakable—search yours, daring you to stop him.

“Eren, we can’t—” your voice is barely a whisper, a weak protest, but even you don’t believe it.

“Let’s go to my car,” he breathes, his lips brushing against your jaw, trailing lower, voice thick with want.

Your stomach flips. The rational part of your mind warns you, reminds you that Mikasa is somewhere in this house, that this is wrong.

But then his hands slide down your thighs, fingertips pressing into bare skin, and suddenly, you don’t care.

He pulls you out of the crowd and to his car, opening the back door and pushing you in before getting on top of you and kissing you all over. You laid on his back seat, dress pulled up to your stomach as Eren grinds his bulge against your slit. His hands roamed your body, exploring your curves with an urgency. He cupped your breast, his thumb brushing against your nipple, eliciting a gasp from you.

"Fuck, Eren," you moaned, leaning into his touch. He responded with a low growl, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses.

He moved between your legs, his fingers coming down and finding your pussy wet and ready. You let out a gasp as he began to tease you, his thumb circling your clit in a maddening rhythm.

You moaned louder, head falling back against the seat, surrendering to the pleasure. Eren continued his motions, his fingers dipping inside you, making you squirm with each thrust. "Eren please, m’ gonna cum," you panted, body trembling with the impending orgasm.

Eren didn't stop. He increased his pace, his fingers moving in and out of you, his thumb pressing against your clit. You came with a cry, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. But Eren wasn't done. He pulled his fingers out of you, bringing them to his lips and sucking them clean. "You taste so fucking good," he growled, his eyes dark with lust.

He moved lower, his hands pushing your legs apart. He buried his face between your thighs, his tongue finding your clit. “Eren!” You squeal, hands tangling in his hair as he begins to lick and suck, his tongue dipping inside you, tasting you. You come again, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm.

Eren moved back up, his lips finding yours in a passionate kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips, a heady mix of arousal and his desire. You reached for his pants, your fingers fumbling with the zipper. You pulled his dick out, long and hard, ready for you to take.

You sat up and straddled him, his hand guiding his dick to your entrance. You sank down on him, taking him inch by inch. He filled you completely, stretching you more than Jean ever could. You begin to ride him, hips moving urgently, like you had been waiting for him your whole life. Eren's hands were everywhere, cupping your breasts, squeezing your ass, pulling your hair. He was rough, his touch bordering on painful, but it only served to heighten your pleasure.

“Fuck baby, you’re so fucking pretty. You have no idea how fucking long I’ve waited to do this.” he utters, thrusting his hips up to meet yours. You squeak in response, syncing up with his thrusts and nearly crying at the sheer pleasure he brought you as the tip of his dick reached your overstimulated g-spot.

You knew the car must be shaking but at that point you didn’t care. The world was second until you soaked his cock with your cum and nearly passed out in exhaustion. You’ve had sex countless times with Jean, but never once had he made you feel like this. You nearly laugh at yourself, at the absurdity of it all. You used to think Jean was everything, used to cry over him, used to let his half-assed love break you. But now? Now, with Eren fucking Yeager between your legs, making you feel things you didn’t even know were possible, you realize how foolish you were.

Mikasa really saved you from mediocre sex for the rest of your life.

The car reeked of sex, but neither of you minded. You were trying to collect yourself, touching up your makeup and hoping that feeling would come back to your legs, but Eren kept kissing on you.

“Eren, we have to go back, or people are gonna notice we’re MIA.”

“Let them notice,” he mutters against your skin, nuzzling into your neck and making you giggle.

“Stop, your girlfriend is going to have my head if she finds out.”

He pulls back slightly, green eyes locking onto yours. “We’re not gonna tell her?”

You give him a dumbfounded look. “Of course not! She’d kill me! Her room is right across from mine—there’s no doubt in my mind that she’d suffocate me with a pillow.”

Eren sighs, shaking his head. “It’s a shame. I wish I met you first.”

Your heart skips. But you recover quickly, tilting your head. “I’m not saying we can’t do this again.”

That makes him smirk. “Our little secret, huh?”

You lean in, pressing one more kiss to his lips before slipping out of the car and heading back inside.

After that night, things spiraled. Sneaking around became second nature—quickies in the janitor’s closet, locker rooms, empty classrooms, even a napping pod once. It was reckless. It was thrilling. And it didn’t help that Eren was so good. Too good.

Whenever he’d come over, you’d be lounging on the couch, and the second Mikasa got up to grab a snack, he’d have you pulled onto his lap, kissing you like he was starving. And before she could see, you’d be on the other end of the couch, casually scrolling through your phone, stifling laughter.

Then, it shifted. The secret dates started. And the biggest problem emerged—you were falling in love with him. And worse, he was falling in love with you.

The guilt set in. Not because you were sleeping with your sister’s boyfriend. No, you didn’t give a damn about that. But because you didn’t want Eren to feel like a pawn in your game. You didn’t want him to wake up one day, realize the truth, and feel used.

So, you came clean.

It was late. You’d already had sex, and now you were sitting in his car, eating ice cream. He could tell something was off. The ice cream was his way of cheering you up.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” His voice was gentle, but there was an edge of concern. “You’re being quiet. It’s freaking me out.”

You inhaled deeply. “If I asked you to break up with my sister for me, would you?”

“In a heartbeat.”

Your stomach dropped. That wasn’t the answer you were expecting.

“Why… Do you want me to?”

“I was just wondering why you haven’t already.”

He sighed, rubbing his jaw. “Because I don’t know what we are. I feel bad for dragging your sister along, but I don’t feel that connection with her. She tries to like my interests, tries to be a good girlfriend, but it all feels forced. With you… It’s just easy. Like you were made for me or something.”

His sincerity made your chest ache. Your eyes burned. He noticed immediately, setting his ice cream down and pulling you over the console onto his lap, reclining the seat so you could lay comfortably against him.

“Tell me what’s going on,” he murmured, voice softer now.

“I don’t think we can keep doing this, Eren.”

His jaw tightened. His arms locked around you like he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers. “Don’t say that.”

You swallowed hard. “I feel bad for dragging you into this.”

“Why?”

You took a shaky breath and told him everything. About Jean. About Mikasa. About how the night you met him, you’d plotted to use him against her, knowing how much she liked him. By the time you finished, tears streamed down your face, the weight of your confession crushing you.

Eren’s expression hardened. His jaw clenched, fingers tapping against the steering wheel in a way that made your stomach twist. Then, without a word, he reached for the seat controls, pushing it back into place before lifting you off his lap and setting you back into the passenger seat. The silence was suffocating.

You buried your face in the sleeve of your sweater, unable to look at him as he started the car. The drive back was agonizing. He didn’t speak, didn’t even glance in your direction. When he finally pulled up a block away from your house, he didn’t tell you to get out, didn’t ask if you were okay. He just waited. Watched. And the second you slipped inside, he sped off, leaving you alone with the hollow ache in your chest.

Eren didn’t message you after that. And you didn’t reach out to him either. He was still with Mikasa, and that broke you more than you wanted to admit. You avoided them, choosing to immerse yourself in school, in your friends—anything to keep yourself from falling apart.

But Eren saw you. And when he did, his stare burned into you, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

Then, as if to twist the knife deeper, he became the perfect boyfriend. Mikasa was happier than ever, always by his side, gushing about their dates, his sweet gestures, the way he looked at her like she hung the stars. And you? You were unraveling.

You tried to distract yourself—drinks at random bars, meaningless hookups with men who never once made you feel the way Eren did. But it only made things worse. Left you feeling emptier, dirtier. So you stopped. Chose to rot in your bed instead, watching mindless shows to drown out your thoughts.

Then one night, everything changed.

It was late, the house quiet except for the hum of your TV. Mikasa had left hours ago, off to some party, giddy about spending the weekend with Eren. Your parents were away too, leaving you entirely alone. It was supposed to be peaceful.

But then came the pounding on the front door.

Your heart lurched as you glanced at the window, spotting Eren’s car parked outside.

What the hell?

You grabbed a bat before making your way downstairs, your pulse hammering. Peeking through the peephole, you saw him—his expression unreadable, chest rising and falling heavily.

You hesitated, but opened the door anyway.

“You scared the hell—”

Eren pushed past you, eyes scanning the room before snatching the bat from your hand. He didn’t stop, storming up the stairs like a man possessed.

“Eren, what the fuck are you doing?” You shut the door and followed after him, heart pounding.

He threw open your bedroom door, searching like a madman—checking under your bed, inside your closet, even the bathroom. Then he turned to you, eyes dark, wild.

“Where is he?”

“What?”

“Jean.” His voice was a growl. “I know he’s here. Don’t fucking lie to me.”

You stared at him, utterly baffled. “Jean? Why the fuck would he be here?” You argue.

Eren’s jaw tightened as he stepped closer, backing you against the wall. His scent surrounded you—faint cologne mixed with something desperate, something unhinged.

“Your friend told me he was here,” he said through gritted teeth. “And Jean was nowhere to be fucking seen at that party.”

Your brows furrowed. “My friend?” You turned your phone over and sure enough, there was a notification from her: ‘Angry Eren headed your way 🫡.’

You exhaled, rolling your eyes as you showed him the screen. “She lied to you. He’s not here.”

Eren’s eyes flickered with relief for only a second before something darker took over. He grabbed your phone, tossed it onto the bed, and then his lips crashed onto yours.

“Fuck it,” he muttered between kisses, hands gripping your waist. “I can’t stop fucking thinking about you.”

You gasped as he pushed you onto the mattress, his weight pressing down on you. His fingers trailed up your thigh, squeezing, possessive.

“You have me so fucking crazy in the head,” he rasped against your lips. “Had me leaving a party, abandoning my girlfriend to see if you were with that piece of shit.”

His mouth was everywhere—your neck, your jaw, your collarbone. Desperate. Consuming.

“Thought I could ignore you. Move the fuck on after you used me like that. But fuck,” his teeth grazed your skin, making you shudder, “I can’t stop thinking about you. I close my fucking eyes, and I see you. I get into my car, and I miss you. I read our messages every fucking day, hoping you’ll reach out. But you never fucking did.”

His words made your chest tighten, your hands fisting his hoodie. “Eren…”

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, breath uneven. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured. “And I will.”

But you didn’t.

Instead, you pulled him closer, sealing your fate with a kiss that tasted like everything you’d been running from.

Eren’s lips trail down your jaw, rough and desperate, his breath heavy against your skin. He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he’s kissing you again, like he’s trying to make up for every second he spent ignoring you. His hands are gripping your waist, fingers digging in like he’s scared you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“You fucking ruined me,” he mutters against your lips, his voice low, strained. “Made me lose my fucking mind. Do you know how many times I’ve been this close—” his hand moves up your thigh, pushing your tank top higher “—to driving to your house in the middle of the night?”

Your heart is hammering against your ribs, but you manage to whisper, “Then why didn’t you?”

His eyes darken, and suddenly, he’s flipping you onto your back, pressing you into the mattress. “Because you didn’t fucking reach out,” he growls. “You left me there, made me think I was just a fucking game to you.”

You shake your head, fingers gripping the back of his neck. “It wasn’t like that. I swear.”

Eren scoffs. “Then why’d you do it? Huh?” He’s searching your face, looking for something—maybe a reason not to hate you, not to love you as much as he does. “Why’d you play with me like that?”

Your throat tightens, and for a moment, you don’t know what to say. You don’t even know if you can say it. But when you look into his eyes, into the frustration, the longing, the hurt—you know you have to.

“I was angry,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. “Mikasa… she took everything from me. I just wanted to take something from her for once.”

Eren’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t loosen his grip on you, doesn’t stop looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

“Then why does it feel like I’m the one who took something from you?” he mutters.

You swallow hard. “Because I didn’t expect to fall for you.”

Eren exhales sharply, like the words just knocked the air out of him. His fingers tighten on your hips, and he curses under his breath before pressing his forehead against yours.

“Say it again,” he murmurs.

Your breath hitches. “Eren—”

“Say it again.” His voice is hoarse, pleading. His lips ghost over yours, but he doesn’t kiss you. Not yet.

You close your eyes, hands trembling as they tangle in his hair. And then, softly, “I fell for you.”

A sound leaves his throat—something between a sigh and a groan—before he’s crashing his lips into yours, kissing you like he’s starving, like he’s been waiting for this moment since the day you walked out of his car.

And maybe he has.

Eren’s hands are everywhere—gripping your thighs, sliding under your shirt, tilting your chin up so he can kiss you deeper. It’s messy, desperate, all-consuming. You feel like you’re drowning in him, in the way he holds you like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers.

“You’re mine,” he breathes against your lips, like he’s making a vow. His hands tighten around your waist, pressing you closer to him. “I don’t give a fuck about anything else. I don’t care what we were supposed to be—I just know I can’t lose you again.”

Your chest is heaving, heart pounding so loud you’re sure he can hear it. “Eren…”

“I mean it,” he growls, his lips ghosting over your jaw, down your neck. “I don’t care about Mikasa. I don’t care about Jean. I don’t care about whatever the fuck happened before—I just want you.”

Your breath catches, fingers trembling as they dig into his shoulders. “Eren, if we do this… there’s no going back.”

“Good,” he mutters, pressing his forehead against yours. His eyes are wild, pupils blown wide. “I don’t fucking want to go back.”

And then he’s kissing you again, harder this time, like he’s trying to fuse himself to you. Like he’s trying to make up for every second you spent apart.

You don’t stop him. You don’t want to.

You let him pull you closer, let him steal the breath from your lungs, let him drag you under because if this is what drowning feels like—being swallowed whole by Eren Yeager—you don’t ever want to come up for air.

Eren’s hands slide under your shirt, rough palms grazing over your heated skin. He’s impatient—grabbing, pulling, desperate to feel more of you, like he’s scared you’ll slip away if he lets go for even a second.

“Tell me you missed me,” he pants against your lips, his breath hot, his voice low and dangerous.

You swallow hard, head spinning. “Eren—”

“Say it.” His fingers dig into your hips, his jaw clenched so tight you think he might shatter. “Tell me you fucking missed me like I missed you.”

Your throat is dry, your heart slamming against your ribs. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction, don’t want to let him know just how badly you’ve been aching for him, but you can’t lie. Not to him.

“I missed you,” you whisper, voice barely above a breath.

His eyes darken, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah?”

You nod, hands gripping his shoulders, trying to ground yourself, but he’s everywhere—filling your senses, stealing the air from your lungs.

He leans in, lips brushing over your ear. “Then show me.”

And just like that, all hesitation crumbles. You crash into him, fingers threading through his hair as you kiss him like you’ll never get the chance again. He groans against your mouth, hands roaming your body like he’s memorizing every inch of you.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead pressing against yours. His eyes, normally sharp and cold, are burning with something raw, something unspoken.

“You’re mine,” he breathes. It’s not a question. It’s not a request. It’s a fucking fact.

And for the first time, you don’t want to fight it.

You nod. “I’m yours.”

Eren lets out a shaky breath, like he’s been waiting forever to hear you say that. Then, with a smirk, he grips your chin, tilting your face up to his.

“Damn right you are.”

Eren doesn’t waste another second. His hands are everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding up your shirt, his fingers digging into your skin like he wants to pull you inside him.

“You have no fucking idea what you do to me,” he growls against your lips, yanking your body flush against his. You can feel him—hard, throbbing, pressing into you like he’s already lost all patience.

You whimper, fingers twisting in his hair as he trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, your throat, sucking at your pulse just to hear you gasp.

“Eren—”

“Shhh, baby,” he murmurs, voice husky as he nips at your collarbone. “I got you.”

His hands slip under your shirt, pushing it up, his thumbs brushing over your heated skin. He pulls back just enough to yank it over your head, tossing it somewhere in the room before his mouth is on you again—hot, wet kisses trailing lower, lower.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he mutters, his breath fanning over your stomach. “So fucking perfect for me.”

You arch into him as his fingers slide under the waistband of your shorts, playing with the elastic. He looks up at you through heavy-lidded eyes, his smirk downright sinful.

“Tell me how bad you want me,” he teases, voice dripping with arrogance.

You bite your lip, your body screaming for him. “Eren, please.”

His smirk grows. “That’s my girl.”

He tugs your shorts down in one swift motion, leaving you bare beneath him. His eyes darken, his tongue swiping over his lips as he takes you in.

“Fuck,” he groans, gripping your thighs and spreading them apart. “Been dreaming about this.”

Your breath hitches as he kisses the inside of your thigh, his hands gripping your legs like he never wants to let go.

“You ready for me, sweetheart?” he murmurs, teasingly slow, lips ghosting over where you need him most.

You nod frantically, hands reaching for him, but he only chuckles. “Use your words.”

“Eren, please,” you gasp, squirming under his touch.

He grins against your skin.

Eren groans, low and deep, like he’s barely holding himself together. His hands grip your thighs, fingers digging into your skin as he spreads you wider beneath him, his breath ghosting over your most sensitive spot.

"Fuck," he rasps, voice rough with need. "You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this."

His lips skim over the inside of your thigh, slow, teasing, his tongue flicking on your clit just to feel you shudder. He smirks against your skin, eyes dark as he watches you squirm.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice thick with hunger. "Already dripping for me. So fucking perfect, baby."

You whimper, arching toward him, but he just chuckles, gripping your hips to hold you down. "Patience, sweetheart," he taunts, pressing a lingering kiss right where you need him most—just barely, just enough to make you gasp.

"Eren," you plead, voice breathless, fingers threading into his hair to tug him closer.

He groans at that, his control slipping. "Shit, you’re gonna fucking ruin me."

Then he’s on you—hot, relentless, devouring you like he’s been starving for this moment. His tongue flicks, his lips suck, his grip tightens as he pulls you closer, deeper, like he wants to drown in you.

Your back arches, a cry spilling from your lips, and Eren growls in satisfaction. "That’s it, baby. Let me hear you," he rasps against your skin, his pace ruthless now.

You’re already trembling, teetering on the edge, and he knows it. He feels it. He fucking loves it.

"Come on, pretty girl," he coaxes, voice rough, hands gripping you even tighter. "Give it to me. Let me taste you fall apart."

Eren is relentless. His grip on your thighs is bruising, his fingers digging into your skin like he’s trying to claim every inch of you. His tongue flicks, slow and deliberate, his lips wrapping around your most sensitive spot just to suck—hard.

Your body jolts, a sharp gasp escaping before you can stop it, and Eren groans at the sound like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever heard. "Fuck, baby," he rasps, his voice muffled against you. "You taste so fucking good."

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even slow down. His tongue moves with precision, stroking, circling, teasing, while his hands keep you pinned, leaving you completely at his mercy.

You squirm, panting, your fingers tightening in his hair, pulling him closer. He groans at that, the vibration of it sending shockwaves straight through you.

"Eren—oh my god—"

He chuckles darkly, lifting his head just enough to meet your dazed, desperate eyes. His lips are glistening, his pupils blown wide with hunger. "That’s right, baby," he murmurs, dragging his tongue over his bottom lip. "Say my fucking name."

Then his fingers join the mix—two of them sliding inside, slow, stretching you, curling just right as his mouth latches onto you again. The combination is devastating. Mind-numbing.

Your back arches, a broken moan spilling from your lips as pleasure crashes over you, and Eren growls in satisfaction, his grip tightening, his pace ruthless.

"That’s it, sweetheart," he groans, his fingers curling deeper, his mouth working you over mercilessly. "Let me feel you come for me."

You shatter. Your whole body tenses, thighs trembling around his head as the pleasure rips through you, wave after wave. Eren doesn’t let up—he keeps going, dragging you through it, devouring every second of your undoing like he lives for this.

When you finally slump against the bed, boneless, breathless, he presses one last kiss to your sensitive skin before making his way up your body—hot, open-mouthed kisses trailing up your stomach, your ribs, your throat.

By the time he reaches your lips, he’s grinning, cocky and devastating. "You’re so fucking pretty when you come," he murmurs, dragging his thumb over your swollen lips.

Then he kisses you—deep, slow, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. His hips press against yours, hard and insistent, reminding you just how much he needs you.

Eren doesn’t give you a second to recover. His hands are everywhere—gripping your hips, trailing up your stomach, pressing into your thighs like he owns you. His mouth is back on yours, hot and desperate, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that makes you whimper.

"Fuck," he groans, grinding against you, making sure you feel how hard he is. "You feel that, baby? This is what you do to me."

His hands slip beneath you, gripping your ass, pulling you against him harder, and you can feel him, thick and throbbing, pressing against your slick heat through his sweats. It’s not enough. It’s nowhere near enough.

"Eren," you gasp, your nails raking down his back, dragging over the firm muscles beneath his skin.

He growls at that, teeth grazing over your jaw, nipping at the sensitive spot beneath your ear. "You like driving me crazy, don’t you?" he mutters, voice rough, his breath hot against your skin. "You like knowing I can barely fucking think when I’m touching you?"

You moan, thighs squeezing around his waist, desperate for more friction, more him.

He smirks against your throat. "I can feel you dripping for me, baby. You want it that bad?"

"Yes," you whimper, back arching as he grinds against you again, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through your body. "Eren, please—"

"Shit, you sound so pretty when you beg," he groans, his lips dragging lower, lower, his teeth scraping over your collarbone before he sucks, leaving a mark—his mark. "Say it again."

You’re already dizzy with need, your fingers twisting in his hair as you pull him closer. "Please, Eren," you gasp. "I need you. Need all of you—"

His control snaps.

He sits up, yanking his hoodie over his head, tossing it somewhere behind him. His eyes are dark, ravenous, as he watches you, chest heaving, lips swollen from his kisses.

"You’re gonna be the fucking death of me," he mutters, his hands hooking into the waistband of his sweats, pushing them down.

And then he’s there, bare and thick and aching for you, his cock standing proud against his stomach. Your breath catches because fuck, he’s big—so big it has your thighs squeezing together in anticipation.

Eren sees it. Loves it. His smirk turns wicked, one hand stroking himself as he watches you with those heavy-lidded, lust-filled eyes.

"What’s wrong, sweetheart?" he teases, voice dripping with arrogance. "You think you can take me?"

You swallow hard, your whole body burning. "I—I want to."

That does it.

"Fuck," he growls, surging forward, caging you beneath him again. His lips crash against yours, desperate, hungry, his cock pressing against your entrance, teasing, taunting. "I got you, baby. I’ll make it fit."

His fingers trail down, teasing your slit, groaning at how soaked you are for him. "So fucking wet," he mutters. "All for me."

Then, without warning, he thrusts—slow, deep, stretching you open inch by inch. A strangled moan rips from your throat, your nails digging into his shoulders as he fills you completely.

"Fuck," he grits out, his forehead dropping against yours, his breath ragged. "You feel so fucking good, baby. So tight, so perfect for me."

You’re gasping, legs wrapping around him, overwhelmed by the way he stretches you, the way he owns you.

Eren groans, his hands gripping your hips as he pulls back before slamming into you again, his jaw clenched, his control fraying. "Oh, baby," he pants, setting a deep, punishing pace. "You’re gonna fucking ruin me."

Eren is gone. Completely wrecked, consumed, feral. His grip on your hips is bruising, his thrusts deep and devastating, like he’s trying to carve himself into you, like he wants to ruin you for anyone else.

"You feel that, baby?" he growls, his voice all grit and desperation. His forehead presses against yours, his breath ragged as he drives into you, hitting just right, making you gasp. "Feel how good you take me? Fuck—you were made for me."

Your nails scrape down his back, leaving red-hot lines in their wake, and Eren groans, his pace stuttering for a second.

"Shit," he pants, his hands sliding down your body, grabbing at your thighs, pulling them higher around his waist. "You’re so fucking tight—so perfect, baby. Squeezing me so good."

You can’t even speak, can’t do anything but take it, your body trembling beneath him as pleasure builds like a wildfire. Every drag of his cock against your walls, every filthy, desperate moan that spills from his lips, sends you spiraling higher.

And he knows it.

Eren watches you with hooded eyes, his expression downright sinful as he slows just to tease, rolling his hips in deep, controlled thrusts that have your back arching off the bed.

"You gonna come for me, sweetheart?" he murmurs, dragging his tongue over your throat, biting down just enough to make you cry out. "I can feel it. You’re so fucking close."

You are. Your entire body is burning, your muscles tensing, the pressure coiling tighter, tighter—

"Come on, baby," he coaxes, one hand slipping between you, his fingers finding your clit, circling it in slow, teasing strokes that have you whimpering. "Give it to me. Let me feel you."

And that’s it. The pleasure snaps, crashing over you in a blinding, breathless wave. Your body convulses, your back bowing, your walls pulsing around him as you shatter with a strangled moan of his name.

Eren loses it.

"Fuck, that’s it, baby," he groans, his pace turning desperate, sloppy, chasing his own high. "Shit—gonna fill you up—fuck—"

With one last, deep thrust, he breaks, his body tensing as he spills inside you, groaning your name like a fucking prayer. His grip on you is tight, like he never wants to let go, his breath hot and ragged against your skin as he rides out his release.

For a moment, all you can do is breathe, tangled together, your bodies slick with sweat, the air thick with heat and satisfaction.

Then Eren lifts his head, a lazy, cocky smirk curving his lips as he brushes a damp strand of hair from your face.

"You okay, baby?" he murmurs, his voice low, teasing. "Did I fuck you stupid?"

You glare at him—weakly, still dazed—and he grins, chuckling as he presses a slow, lingering kiss to your swollen lips.

"That was just the first round, sweetheart," he murmurs against your mouth, his fingers already trailing down your body again.

"You did say you needed more, didn’t you?"

Eren doesn’t even let you breathe. He’s still inside you, still hard, still fucking hungry, and from the way his hands are already trailing lower, gripping your thighs like he owns you, you know he’s not done.

Not even close.

"You thought I was finished with you?" he taunts, voice thick, teasing, dripping with arrogance. He rolls his hips—slow, deep—making you whimper at the overstimulation, and fuck, his smirk is wicked.

"You can take it, can’t you, baby?" he murmurs, fingers tracing over your swollen, sensitive clit just to tease. "Be my good girl and let me ruin you."

You’re still shaking from your last orgasm, body sensitive, nerves on fire, but that only makes it better. Your head lolls back, a needy whine slipping from your lips, and Eren grins.

"That’s what I fucking thought."

Before you can respond, he moves. Fast. Suddenly, you’re flipped onto your stomach, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you onto your knees. His chest is warm, burning against your back as he leans down, his teeth nipping at your earlobe.

"You’re so fucking pretty like this," he groans, his cock pressing against your soaked folds, sliding through your slick without pushing in. Teasing. Torturing. "All spread out for me. Ready to be fucked proper."

You’re desperate. Arching your back, pressing against him, trying to push yourself onto his cock, but he just laughs.

"Needy little thing," he coos, one hand wrapping around your throat, pulling you back against his chest. His other hand dips between your legs, fingers sliding through your wetness, making you tremble.

"You want it that bad, huh?" he murmurs, pressing a soft, almost mocking kiss to your temple. His fingers glide up, circling your clit, barely touching—just enough to make you squirm.

"Eren, please," you whimper, your voice already wrecked.

He groans at that, his grip tightening. "Fuck, baby," he breathes. "I love when you beg."

Then, without warning, he slams into you.

A guttural moan rips from your throat as he bottoms out in one thrust, stretching you all over again. His grip on your throat tightens, his breath hot against your ear.

"You feel that, baby?" he growls. "Feel how deep I am?"

You can barely think. Your fingers claw at the sheets, your body arching, completely at his mercy.

Eren loves it. Loses himself in it. He pulls back and thrusts again—hard, deep, his pace brutal. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, filthy, obscene, mixed with his low groans and your desperate, broken moans.

"You’re taking me so fucking well," he grits out, his hand sliding from your throat down to your mouth. His fingers press against your lips, and when you gasp, he shoves them inside.

"Suck," he commands, voice raw, and fuck, you do—hollowing your cheeks, moaning around his fingers as he fucks into you even harder.

His growl is pure filth.

"Shit, you’re so fucking nasty," he groans, his other hand coming down on your ass—hard. You gasp, the sting of it making you clench around him, and Eren loses it.

"Oh, you like that, huh?" he taunts, his pace somehow turning even more devastating. "Like being fucked like a little slut?"

You whimper, drool slipping down your chin, body shaking as pleasure builds like a fucking storm.

"You gonna come for me again, baby?" he pants, yanking his fingers from your mouth, trailing them down between your legs. He finds your clit and rubs in tight, fast circles, making you wail.

"You’re so fucking close, aren’t you?" he growls. "Come on, baby. Make a mess all over my cock."

And then you snap.

Your vision blurs, your body convulsing as a scream rips from your throat. You come so hard it nearly knocks you flat, your walls pulsing around him, milking his cock, dragging him to his own breaking point.

"Fuck," he snarls, his thrusts turning sloppy, desperate. "Fuck, fuck, fuck—"

Then he shatters, his entire body tensing as he spills inside you, filling you up with a guttural moan of your name. His grip on your waist is bruising, his body collapsing against yours as he grinds his hips, riding out every last pulse of pleasure.

For a moment, neither of you can move. You’re both wrecked, sweaty, panting, tangled together in the best possible way.

Then Eren chuckles—low, breathless, still cocky as hell.

"Holy shit," he pants, pressing lazy kisses to your spine.

Your whole body is shaking, skin burning, sweat dripping—but Eren? That man is insatiable.

You barely have time to catch your breath before he’s moving again, hands gripping your hips hard, pulling you up onto all fours. You let out a weak, breathless moan, and he grins—that wicked, cocky, downright sinful grin.

"Aww, what’s wrong, baby?" he coos, teasing, breath hot against your ear. "Too much for you?"

You don’t even get a chance to answer before he spanks you—hard—his palm coming down on your ass with a sharp crack, making you jolt.

Your gasp turns into a moan, and Eren laughs, the sound deep and filthy.

"Ohhh, you like that, don’t you?" he taunts, rubbing over the stinging skin, his voice dripping with amusement. "Such a dirty little thing. Getting all wet just from being put in your place."

You whimper, back arching, needing more.

"Use your words," he warns, fingers teasing at your entrance, rubbing through your slick but not giving you what you want.

"Eren, please," you gasp, pushing back against him, desperate, needy. "I want you."

"Yeah?" he breathes, leaning down, his teeth grazing your shoulder. "Want me to fuck you stupid again?"

"Yes—yes, please," you beg, voice wrecked, trembling beneath him.

He groans, dragging his cock through your wetness, teasing, taunting, making you squirm.

"Since you asked so nicely," he mutters.

And then he slams into you.

A wail rips from your throat as he fills you to the hilt, stretching you open all over again. Eren grunts, gripping your hips so hard you know you’ll have bruises tomorrow—but you don’t care.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, pulling back just to thrust into you again, setting a brutal pace. "You love this, don’t you? Getting fucked like a little whore?"

You can’t even answer—can barely breathe. Your fingers claw at the sheets, your mouth open in a silent moan as he wrecks you.

Eren notices.

He laughs, breathless and cocky, and suddenly, his fingers are tangling in your hair, yanking your head back so your back arches perfectly for him.

"Aww, is it too much?" he teases, his voice mocking, his pace relentless. "Look at you, baby—drooling for me, fucking shaking, taking every inch like a good little slut."

You whimper, body trembling, completely at his mercy.

"Say it," he growls, snapping his hips so deep you swear you see stars. "Say you’re my little slut."

"I—I’m your little slut," you gasp, the words wrecked, choked.

"Fuck," he groans, his cock twitching inside you. "Good fucking girl."

Then he’s really losing control. His hand slips between your legs, fingers finding your clit, rubbing in tight, brutal circles that have you screaming.

"You gonna come for me again, baby?" he taunts, his breath hot against your ear. "Gonna make a fucking mess all over my cock?"

You can’t stop it. The pleasure crashes over you, tearing you apart, your body convulsing, your walls pulsing so tight around him that he growls.

"Shit," he grits out, his pace turning desperate, erratic, wrecked. "Gonna fucking fill you up, baby—fuck—"

With a deep, guttural groan, he snaps, his body tensing as he spills inside you, hips jerking, grinding, making sure you take every drop.

For a moment, all you can do is breathe, both of you shaking, panting, wrecked.

Then Eren chuckles, low and teasing, pressing a lazy, cocky kiss to your shoulder.

Your whole body is spent, muscles trembling, skin hot and slick with sweat. The air is thick, the room still humming with the aftershocks of what just happened, but before you can even think about moving, Eren is already on you.

Strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close, and the second your body melts into his, he lets out the softest sigh. His lips press lazy, feather-light kisses to your shoulder, up your neck, across your jaw—slow, tender, like he’s savoring you.

"You okay, baby?" he murmurs, voice low, husky, but gentle now. The contrast from the way he was just wrecking you makes your heart ache in the best way.

You hum, still a little dazed, nuzzling into his chest. "Mmmhmm."

He chuckles, all warm and fond, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. "That’s not a real answer," he teases, fingers tracing lazy circles over your spine.

You smile sleepily, turning your face up toward him. "I’m good," you mumble, voice soft, satisfied. "So good."

Eren grins, his hand sliding down to your thigh, kneading it gently, soothing over the marks his fingers left behind. "You sure? You need anything?"

You shake your head, completely content, but that doesn’t stop him from fussing over you. He shifts, reaching for something—his discarded shirt—before gently wiping you down, murmuring little praises under his breath.

"So fucking perfect," he whispers, pressing another soft kiss to your shoulder. "So good for me."

When he’s done, he tosses the shirt aside, pulling you right against his chest, wrapping you up in his arms like he never wants to let go.

“What’re you going to do about her?” Eren follows your gaze that’s on his phone with Mikasa’s name flashing on it. “I already told you what I’m gonna do. She’s nobody to me.” He whispers, his fingers running through your hair down to your back.

A small pause follows.

"Stay right here, baby," he murmurs, tucking your head under his chin, his fingers stroking slow, soothing patterns into your back.

You sigh, completely boneless, curling into him. "Not going anywhere," you mumble. "Ever."

Eren chuckles, the sound soft, sweet. "Good," he murmurs, tilting your chin up just to steal one more slow, sleepy kiss. "Mine."

#eren smut #eren jaeger #eren yeager #eren aot #eren x reader #eren x you #aot smut #aot x you #aot x reader #tw cheating #tw angst #Fic: What Was Mine.#aot angst #eren angst #eren jeager x reader

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