#also the smut was 👌🏾 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tangylemonade · 3 months ago

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First of all, how are you feeling now since the breakup? I hope your heart heals stronger than ever. ♥️

This was such a fun read. I wanted to read a Chan fic after all that he’s been up to 👀 so I checked your page and you did not disappoint as always🫡

That sex (I was gonna so smut but I swear it read like making love) scene actually made me cry a bit. Idk but the emotions were so well written and conveyed that they hit me at full force.

Ugh so good 😔

Also “I didn’t call you a man” 👌🏾had me cackling

THE FUCKBOY NEXT DOOR.

Bangchan x reader. (s,a)

Synopsis: Having issues to break up with your boyfriend, you seek help from the boy next door and the number one fuckboy in the area, Chan. (10k words)

Author's note: I went through a nasty break up a few weeks ago and this is basically just me trying to cope by being delulu about having a fuckboy Chan as a neighbor. Enjoy x

It becomes a habit now that Chan doesn't know where he is when he wakes up in the morning.

The first thing that he'll do is retrace everything to last night. He was DJ-ing at a club, had a few drinks in between, met a girl who was eyeing him the whole night, had a few more drinks, there was a little touching and a quick makeout session in the dark alley and people can guess what happens after that

So this is where he is right now, the girl's bedroom and he can recall everything that happened last night except the girl's name.

"Fuck!" Chan mutters under his breath.

Judging from how bright the sun is outside, he knows he only has a little window to make his escape so he quickly gets off the bed as calmly as possible. He then tiptoes around to gather his clothes and put them on without making any noise.

However, he fails at it as the head from his belt hits the bed frame and the clanging of metal meets metal echoing in the room.

The girl steers on her sleep and rolls over to the side, she brushes her hair away from her face, catching Chan putting his belt on.

The plan to make a quick getaway has come to a failure but he keeps his cool, continuing to buckle his belt and then plants his hands on each side of his waist.

"Morning," He awkwardly says with a forced smile.

"Morning," the girl replies with a smile then props an elbow against the mattress, sending the duvet sliding down her body and exposing her bare chest to him.

Chan might have been a little drunk when he met her but damn, his fuckboy radar works well even under the influence of alcohol.

"You're leaving already?" She asks, flipping her hair to the back to expose more of those beautiful mounds to him.

Chan has to tell his pervy brain to focus actively, he looks away and picks up his jacket from the floor.

"I promised a friend to help him move out today," He lies, then pretends to check the time on his phone, "And I'm kind of late."

The girl nods then twirls her hair around her finger, "Well then... when can I see you again?"

"I hope soon," Chan says with his charming grin that disguises the insincerity in his answer.

The girl smiles at that which confirms that the grin works, "But seriously, I can't wait to see you again," she says.

"I'll call you," he says because that's what he can promise her at the moment but whether he'll do it or not is uncertain.

"But you don't have my numbers yet," she says with her eyebrows wrinkled in suspicion.

"No, I'm sure you already did," he says, convincing her by scrolling the contacts on his phone.

"Yup. I have your numbers already," he lies again, showing her a random contact on his phone for a quick second.

"But my name is Thalia," she says, cleverly catching the name on the contact.

"Yes, of course, you're Thalia," he says with utmost confidence and his ultimate weapon of a dimpled smile.

The girl seems alarmed though. She sits up on the bed and clutches the duvet close to her chest, "We're going to see each other again, right Chris?"

"Yes," he answers without a beat, and at this point, lying is as easy as breathing to him.

"Can I get a kiss before you leave?"

"Sure," he says, coming around the bed to give her a quick peck on the lips.

The girl smiles when he lets go and watches as he walks to the doorway, "I'll call you, Tanya."

"It's Thalia," she corrects him with an apparent displeasure on her face.

Chan shoves his phone into the pocket of his jeans and takes the time to properly bid her goodbye. Nothing a girl likes more than a sweet mouth and a little assurance, he'll give her exactly that.

"I'll see you soon, Thalia," Chan says with a smile.

"See you soon, Chris," and the girl naively believes him, if only she knew that this will be the last time they're seeing each other.

Yet again, Chan makes another successful getaway.

The warm weather of spring makes it a pleasant walk from the bus stop to his apartment building. He wants to stop somewhere for breakfast but his head feels heavy from the hangover, he just wants to go home as soon as possible, have a bowl of cereal then take an aspirin for the pounding headache.

In the lobby, he makes a quick stop to collect his mail and takes a quick check at it, sorting them out on the spot so he knows which ones he should bring upstairs.

From the corner of his eyes, Chan catches his neighbor, you with your boyfriend chatting by the elevator. He notices the gestures, the expression, and the whole interaction, it doesn't take a genius to know that something is going on there that the naked eyes can't see.

Chan throws the unnecessary mail into the trash bin nearby and walks to the elevator, hearing the little conversation going on between you and your boyfriend.

"...the waffles were delicious. We should have breakfast there again," the boyfriend says as he looks at you, "What do you think?"

"Yeah," you meekly answer while looking at the little screen that shows the floor the elevator is stopping in.

Chan tries to remain invisible but his eyes accidentally make contact with your boyfriend so he may as well make his presence known.

"Hi, neighbor," he greets, he knows your name but you seem to prefer to be called that way.

You do what you always do whenever you meet each other in the building, give him a quick judging look and a courteous smile.

"And hi neighbor's boyfriend," he greets your boyfriend next.

"Hi," your boyfriend greets back, "Chris, isn't it?"

"Yes and you are Lee," Chan responds.

"Right. So how was your Friday night?" Lee initiates a small talk.

"I believe it wasn't as good as yours," Chan playfully answers.

"Oh, we just stayed in and watched a movie, right baby?" Lee says, putting his arm around your shoulder.

All of a sudden, you take a step forward and say, "It's here."

The elevator doesn't chime until a moment later but you seem to be more than eager to get in. You turn around to give your boyfriend a quick hug.

"I'll try to leave early so we can have dinner together," Lee says with a quick kiss on the cheek.

"It's okay. Take your time," you say with a faint smile.

Chan quietly gets into the elevator and holds the door open for you, he tries not to look at what's happening in front of him not out of politeness but it's just painful to watch.

"I'll call you," Lee adds, catching your hand as you enter the elevator and kissing it.

"Okay," you say then wave your hand at him.

To help you get out of it, Chan releases his finger off the buttons and sends the doors sliding shut.

"Bye, baby," Lee says for the last time before the doors completely close.

It's just another awkward elevator ride with you and he'll usually try to endure it but after watching all that and trying not to say anything is hard, he can't help but impose.

He glances at you to check whether you're ready to hear about what he has to say but you always have the same stoic expression. Then it occurs to him that he has never seen you smile impolitely or out of joy, or even hear your laugh, but maybe after you hear what he's about to say, he'll get to see a different facial expression on you.

"Oh, man! That was painful to watch," he sighs as he keeps looking straight ahead at his reflection in the shiny furnace of the elevator.

There's no one else in the elevator so you're fully aware that he's talking to you but you don't respond until a while later.

There you go, with your judging look and stoic expression, looking at him as you say, "Excuse me?"

Chan doesn't want to sound rude but beating around the bush isn't his thing, he prefers to be straightforward. He knows it's all based on assumptions but he's pretty sure his judgements are pretty accurate.

He's going to just do it and lay out the facts, he turns to the side, then leans his back against the cold surface of the elevator.

"Your shoulder tightens when he called you baby and the fact you lied about the breakfast tells me that you didn't actually like his choice of restaurant," he pauses to let out a cynical chuckle, "the waffles weren't that good, I guess?"

When he wants to see a different facial expression on you, he doesn't mean seeing your angry one, but oh well, the damage has been done.

"Because I'm a good girlfriend that's why I let him choose the restaurant," you become defensive all of a sudden but that's an unconvincing answer.

"No, you let him choose out of pity," he simply remarks, "And just now, your nostrils flared when I pointed it out."

With all of these signs combined with his personal experiences, Chan narrows it out to one conclusion. He looks at you in the eyes and says, "You're about to break up with him, don't you?"

It looks like you've been slapped right on the face except that the slap doesn't come from someone, it's from the truth that comes out of Chan's unfiltered mouth and he instantly regrets it for meddling in in someone else's business.

"I'm sorry, but why are we having this conversation?" You ask, crossing your arms together in front of you.

"It's not like you're any better. You slept around, you're scared of commitment and now, sticking your nose at my business. You are the kind of person that I deeply despise!" You angrily say with your chest heaving.

It seems like you're saying all of those things about him out of anger because he sees right through you but now he knows why you always give him that judging look. He's the one who started it so yeah, okay, maybe he deserves that but that doesn't change the truth. The problem is what he said and your response, they're heading in the opposite direction.

"I think someone has her panties in a twist," Chan coyly responds.

"Look, there's nothing wrong with wanting to break up. That doesn't make you a bad person," he adds and decides to end the talk right there.

It gets quiet in this enclosed space and it's already suffocating as it is but how lucky that he has to patiently wait for the elevator to ride through three more floors to get out of here.

When the elevator finally dings open, Chan lets out a breath he doesn't know he's been holding but he's not the one in a hurry to exit both this space and the situation. He stays where he is and lets you out first.

When he thinks you don't have anything else to say, you stop right outside the elevator and look at him with a piercing gaze.

"Don't, for one second, think that you had any effect whatsoever on my panties!" You emphasize every word in anger, then storm off.

Know what? Maybe Chan should skip the bowl of cereal and take two aspirin instead. As for you, maybe you need to chill the fuck out.

Just because you've been neighbors with Chan for the past three years doesn't mean that you know each other on a personal level.

All you know about him is that he's a DJ which explains why there's always music playing in his apartment, he always wears a sleeveless top to showcase his muscles, and he always has a stupid grin on to show off the stupid dimples on his stupid face, an annoying Australian accent and from how many times you caught different girls taking a walk of shame out of his apartment, it's safe to say that he's the number one fuckboy in the area

So how dare he say all of that stuff in the elevator when he doesn't know anything about you at all? Moreover, what does a fuckboy like him know about relationships?

It shouldn't be hard to ignore because it's something you usually do but gosh, the memory of the conversation still vexed you a few days later.

Then it hits you that it bothers you so much because deep down, you know what he said is true. You've been wanting to break up with your boyfriend and hearing that comes from someone outside that relationship only solidified that thought.

There's nothing wrong with your boyfriend, Lee is nice, too nice even, and when you think about it, maybe that is the problem, he is too nice and that leads you to another problem, you don't know how to break up with him without hurting his feelings.

But you know who can help you with that? Someone who has a lot of experience in breaking up with people.

Oh, what a joy that you find the answer right across your door!

Before you get to ask for his help though, you're fully aware that there's another thing to do and there's no other way to do it but walk up to his apartment, knock on his door, and apologize.

As you're standing there in front of his apartment door, you're dreading it. All sorts of thoughts crossed your head like why did you have to be so riled up that time in the elevator? Why did you have to say that thing about the panties? Just why? Ugh!

Let's just get it over with, you mutter inside your head.

With hesitant hand, you knock on his door and then hold the urge to turn around and run back to your apartment. You let yourself take a step back as you wait for him to come for the door.

Do not open the door, do not open the door, you chant inside your head while tapping your foot against the floor. However, things are not always going the way you want.

The door swings inward and a second later, Chan appears with disheveled hair and he only has one arm in the sleeve of his t-shirt, then you spot a girl's shoes next to his feet.

Oh no, please don't say you're coming at the wrong time.

You reflexively take another step back but he grabs your forearm and then opens the door wider, showing you that there's a girl there.

"It's my neighbor, she's here to remind me about the tenant meeting," he says to her.

The girl looks at you rather suspiciously and crosses her arms together in front of her as she glares at Chan.

"No. Don't you dare try to get out of this, Chris!"

"But it's true. We have to leave now," Chan says, then gives you a look that tells you to lie along with him, "Right?"

Running a quick assessment of the situation, you're certain that Chan is trying to get himself out of it to avoid having a difficult conversation with the beautiful lady. You hate to be the accessory to his crime but if this means that it would help you earn his forgiveness...

"The pigeons!" You make up a lie on the spot.

"The pigeons are ruining our rooftop garden so we held this urgent tenant meeting," you add with what you hope is a convincing smile.

"Oh, those damn pigeons!" Chan heavily sighs with a phony expression.

The lie makes your throat dry and your cheeks hurt from forcing a smile, you have to keep it going as the lady considers whether to believe that the tenant meeting is true or not.

Chan grabs his jacket from the clothes hook and puts it on, "We'll continue this later, okay?" He says to her.

Without waiting for her answer, he gets out of the door and drags you with him to go to your apartment. Once both of you get inside, he immediately closes the door behind him and lets out a long sigh.

"Oh, wow!" He exclaims once he realizes that he's inside your apartment.

He allows himself further inside and leisurely walks around your apartment, checking your kitchen, trailing his fingers on your book collection on the shelf, and observing the potted plants lining up on the window sill.

He walks back to the middle of the room and takes another 360-degree look around the apartment, then nods in approval.

"So, this is what the inside of your apartment looks like," he says in a cryptic tone.

Not sure if he wants you to respond to that or if should respond at all. You choose to remain silent and only respond when his intentions are intelligible.

Chan then sits on the sofa, making himself comfortable, and looks at you, then at what you're holding in both hands.

"Is that for me?"

The jar of cookies you've been unknowingly holding in your hands is a token of apology and it is for him.

"Yes, it is for you," you say, handing it to him with both hands.

"I'm sorry about the other day," you sincerely apologize, but you know you have to let him know what you're apologizing for, "for what I've said to you. I'm terribly sorry."

"Well, since you're helping me with the uh... situation," he coyly says as he scratches his eyebrow, "consider us even."

See? That wasn't so hard. You feel bad for lying to the girl but at least, you've been forgiven.

"Thank you," you add with a smile.

Chan doesn't say anything else but opens the lid and takes a cookie out of the jar. He gets comfortable on the sofa, sitting slumped with his legs spreading wide, and then he takes a big bite of the cookie.

It doesn't take long for him to notice that you have something else to say to him other than an apology.

Before he gets to it, you force yourself to start speaking.

"So, Chris..." you call, then abruptly stop talking. You suddenly have a second thought about asking for his help.

"What's up?" He asks while chewing on his cookie.

It's at the tip of your tongue but your mouth feels like they're sewn shut. You clasp your hands together and muster up the courage to just blurt it out.

"Do you want something to have with the cookies?"

You swear you plan on asking for his help but somehow, your mouth saying a different thing.

"Milk would be nice," he answers.

"Milk. Yes, I have milk," you awkwardly say, slowly making your way to the kitchen like a walking dead.

You take a carton of milk from the fridge and while pouring it into a glass, you're scolding yourself for being so cowardly.

After taking a moment to take a deep breath and muster up the courage to ask, you walk back to the sofa with the glass of milk in hand. With a smile, you hand it to him.

"Thank you," he says, his eyes catching something in your eyes.

You immediately break the eye contact and take another step back, standing and watching him finish his third cookie then wash it down with a sip of milk.

"I hope you don't mind that I'm going to stay here until the girl leaves my apartment," he informs.

"Oh?" You meekly gasp.

"But I can leave if you're uncomfortable," he says as he sits straight on the sofa.

"No, it's fine," you shortly reply, "Take your time."

"Okay, thanks," he says, reclining back on the sofa and continues munching on the cookies.

You can't decide if he stays longer than you expected is a good thing or not. You use the opportunity to reconsider it and walk to the kitchen to get out of his sight.

"Do you need help or not?" You quietly ask yourself as you pour yourself a glass of water.

Why is it so hard? He's right there. All you need is to go and ask for his help.

The water sloshes out of the glass as you fill it too full and you reflexively back away to avoid getting water all over the front of your dress.

"Everything good there?" Chan asks in a slight panic.

That's it! Enough time has passed from overthinking it! You walk up to him and just do it.

"You're right," you blurt out, "I've been wanting to break up with my boyfriend."

Sensing that it turns serious, Chan slows down his chewing and puts away the cookie jar. You expect the I-told-you-so grin on his face but no, he looks saddened instead.

"Things aren't working out," you openly share with a sad sigh.

You take a seat on the ottoman facing the sofa and sadly sigh, "I've been wanting to break up with him for a week now but I just don't know how."

"How long you've been dating each other?"

"Three years," you answer.

"Wow," Chan lowly gasps in awe.

Three years is not a short time, he understands why you hesitate to break up and it isn't an easy decision either.

"I need your help," you hopelessly say, unintentionally becoming vulnerable in front of him.

"My help?"

"Help me how to break up with him," you further explain.

"Of all people, why me?" He asks in utter confusion.

It's hard to answer that without being rude, you decide to let him process the question until it leads him to the answer. After a while, he lets out a dry chuckle and nods, "Okay, yeah. Make sense."

Chan takes another minute to accept the fact that his help is needed because he knows how to break up with someone without feeling awful about it afterward.

"I guess you want to let him down gently?"

"Yes," you answer.

"Well..." he inflates his cheeks then lets the air out through his pursed lips, "You can break up with him through a text."

Which part of 'let him down gently' did he not understand? How is it a good idea to break up through a text? But okay, it's just one suggestion, you give him the benefit of the doubt for now. Who knows he'll come up with better suggestions.

"I'm sorry. No, I can't do that," you kindly refuse his suggestion.

"You can send it when he's sleeping," he adds.

Oh, God! He gives you an even worse suggestion instead of better ones. You know what? This is a bad idea and you regret asking for his help.

"I don't—" You stop yourself from talking and get up from your seat.

"I'll just check if the lady is still..." Your words trail off as you walk towards the door and check through the peephole first, then you get out of the door to check his apartment next.

"Hello? Excuse me?" You shout from the doorway but no one is answering you.

You take it the lady has left and walk back to your apartment to deliver the news to the rightful owner of the apartment.

"She already left," you tell him.

Chan lets out a sigh and closes the cookie jar, he finishes the milk to its last drop and then gets up from the sofa.

"Thank you for the cookies and the milk," he says with his signature grin.

"No worries," you reply, trying so hard to hide the disappointment in your voice.

Chan holds the cookie jar in one arm and takes a step closer to you, "if you need help on how to write breakup texts, I'm just across the hall," he says.

You don't respond to that but keep a smile on for him as to seem polite.

"And good luck!" He says with gentle pats on your shoulder.

The second he walks out the door, you collapse onto the sofa and dread it even more than before. Turns out, asking for his help is not helping at all.

The next day, you meet him as you collect your mail in the lobby and it's hard to ignore him when his mailbox is next to yours.

"G'day!" Chan greets you as he leans the side of his body against the wall while sorting his mail.

"Good day!" You respond and hurriedly walk toward the elevator. You push the button to summon it to the lobby and hope it comes soon enough for you to avoid talking to Chan.

Of course, things don't go as you want it. He comes just in time for the elevator about to arrive, he crumples a few letters in his hand into a ball and then tosses it into the trash bin.

"How did it go?" He asks.

"Pardon?" You nonchalantly respond.

Good thing that the elevator chimes open and you can pretend to forget about what he asked you a while ago. You get inside while clutching your mails in hands in front of you but it's not safe yet as you have to share the elevator ride with him.

"So... the break-up texts? Did you do it?" He asks again, going to the corner of the elevator and leaning his back against it.

"Chris, I think you can't just end a three-year relationship with a text," you put it as nicely as you can.

"Yeah, I reckon," he innocently answers.

It seems like Chan can't tell the difference between what is easy and what is right. It isn't a good idea in the first place to ask for help from someone like him who doesn't consider other people's feelings except his own.

"What are you going to do then?" He asks, shifting his weight on one leg.

Since his help is not helping at all, you have no answer to that yet. This should be something you have to figure out on your own in the first place.

"I'll figure it out," you not-very-convincingly answer.

Chan crosses his arms in front of him, making the muscles and veins on his arms more evident under the fluorescent light of the elevator.

"Lee seems like a nice guy," he remarks with a deep inhale of air.

Well, if you have to compare your boyfriend to Chan, then yes, Lee is a really nice guy. Lee excels in a lot of things, including how to treat a person with feelings.

"Yes," you settle with a simple answer.

"A drawn-out break up is only going to end in a big scene," he says, "Just saying."

Chan has a point. It's worse to prolong the pain for both you and Lee, you can't keep pretending that the relationship works and it's unfair that you keep Lee oblivious about all this.

"We can practice, you know," he offers.

"Practice?"

"On how you're going to break up with him," he explains.

He comes up with a better suggestion this time and is almost endearing even but again, he wouldn't know how a person with real feelings reacts to a break-up which makes you unsure if the practice would be any help.

The elevator is about to arrive anyway so you decide to skip on responding to his offer. Once it chimes, the doors part open and you take the first turn to get out with Chan getting off after you. You turn to the left to your apartment while he turns right. You take the key out of your pocket to unlock the door and push your way in while clutching your mail close to your chest.

"You know where to find me if you need help," Chan says just before you close the door to your apartment.

Hard pass, you answer in your head but you put on a smile for his kind offer, then close the door

Okay, you admit it. You were too haste when you said that you didn't need his help. You were doing fine for these past few days, you've been avoiding meeting your boyfriend to give you some more time to think of the best way to break the news to him until he calls you.

The phone rings and you just stare at it, considering whether to pick it up or not. If you pick it up, that means you have to lie to him and if you don't, it'll alert him that things are, in fact, not okay.

The latter seems like a better idea so you pick it up after taking a long, deep breath.

"Hi, baby. Am I calling you at the wrong time?"

Not entirely wrong but it would be nice if he didn't call you, you answer in your head.

"Yeah, sorry, I was in the bathroom," you lie.

"Coconut shrimp for dinner. What do you think?" he asks out of the blue.

"That sounds nice," you easily respond.

"I know you'll like it but, babe, do you mind getting us a bottle of wine on the way?

"I'm sorry?" You ask in confusion.

"For our dinner, remember?" he answers, "I'll cook tonight we'll be having dinner at mine."

You hardly paid attention to him because your mind was always elsewhere, you couldn't remember saying yes to the dinner but you did and it must be out of pity.

"No, of course, I remember, I'm just..." you rake your brain to think of something to say.

"I thought it was next week," you lie again with an awkward chuckle.

"You silly!" Lee says, "Aren't you glad that I called, huh?"

"So glad," you lie, again and again.

"I should start prepping the ingredients so they'll be ready when you get here," he says, his voice exuding enthusiasm.

"Okay."

"Don't forget the wine!"

"I won't."

"I can't wait to see you, baby," he sweetly says.

The lies are piling up so may as well add another one to the pile, "Me too."

"I love you, bye."

Don't think you can lie your answer to that, you gulp air, "Bye," you say to the phone, then quickly hang up.

Desperate times call for desperate measures and you don't know your desperate measure means knocking on your neighbor's door. Probably because you hate to admit that you need his help.

Not long after, Chan opens the door and his head pops out from the gap, "What's up?"

"My boyfriend just called and tonight, we'll be having dinner in his place," you blabber in panic.

It takes a second for him to process it then his face turns a little surprised, "What are we going to do then?" He asks in confusion.

You may be in dread but you catch the error in his question, "We? Now, you got your panties in a twist," you tell him.

"Shame on you!" He responds with a sly grin then opens the door wider and shows himself dressed in nothing but a white towel hanging low around his hips.

He puts one arm against the doorframe and leans close to you as he says, "Cause I'm not wearing any panties right now."

You should have noticed it from his wet hair and the beads of water rolling down his neck, and now that you're seeing the whole of it, your eyes immediately following where the beads of water going, they're going down the outline of his abs and eventually, to where they're all gathered as his pelvic bones leading down to one way: down south.

However, your instinctive reaction goes against what you're actually feeling inside.

"Ugh!" You groan and turn to the side, "Put some clothes on and I'll see you at my place!"

Without waiting for his answer, you rush back to your apartment and close the door behind you as fast as possible, then you rest your back against it.

The images of his naked body flashing through your head, his glistening wet pale skin, and how some parts of his body are blotchy red around the neck and chest. You get flustered all of a sudden, you immediately press the back of your hand to your cheek and you can feel them heating.

"Get it together!" You scold yourself.

After waiting for almost fifteen minutes, Chan finally comes knocking on your door like it's a musical instrument.

"Are you dressed?" You ask with your hand on the doorknob.

"Hardly," he jokes.

You peek through the peephole and see that he's already dressed to what you can say is his usual attire of dark short pants with a matching sleeveless top, showing off his bulging biceps. You open the door to let him in and he coyly walks in, treating your place like it's his own, sitting on your sofa with his legs spreading wide.

"Okay, so, why am I here?"

You stand in front of him with your hands clasped in front of you, "I've been lying to him the whole phone call and honestly, I've been doing it since the moment I decided that I want to break up with him, and I... I don't think I can lie to him again."

It's easy to admit your mistakes to him because he barely knows you and his opinions about you won't matter that much to you.

"I need to do it tonight," you hopelessly say.

"I take it you need my help to practice your break-up speech?"

You hate that he guesses it right but it's also convenient that you don't have to beat around the bush to ask for it. But first, you try to explain the situation as much as possible so he has ideas on what you're facing here.

"Lee is a man of many emotions and I'm not exaggerating when I say he'll likely cry," you inform.

Chan's forehead wrinkles as he processes this piece of information then stifles a nod. It seems like he still has no idea what you want him to do about it.

"I think it's less painful if you acknowledge the dumpee feelings," you blatantly explain.

"Okay, I got you. Let's practice!' He says, sitting up straighter on the sofa and then putting his hands on his knees.

It's just a practice but your anxiety takes over you not just mentally but also physically as your palms get sweaty. You wipe them down your jeans and take a breath.

"Lee," you call him by your boyfriend's name, and even though it's weird that you're roleplaying, you continue, "I want to break up with you."

Chan looks at you and gets quiet for a moment, "Wow. I'm in utter shock and it makes me very sad to hear that," he says with a rather serious tone.

Not the kind of reaction Lee would likely pull off but that will do if you decide to continue with it.

"I'm fully aware that this is so sudden but I've been thinking hard about it for some time and I think this is a decision that I should take," you say and you know it's a practice but you feel something caught in your throat.

"I'm sad and I need time to process it, but I'll be okay," he calmly says.

Chan gets the tone right but you believe breaking up wouldn't be this easy in real life, especially when there are real feelings to protect. To be honest, you're not ready to face the truth that you may hurt those feelings tonight.

"I think that went very well," Chan says, returning to his default settings.

"Yeah, I think that's it," you meekly say.

The worries and sadness are drawn on your face that Chan can easily see through your veiled expression, "If Lee is as nice as you said he is, then you shouldn't worry much," he says.

He waits until your eyes meet his to continue, "He may get surprised or shocked even, but he'll come around and respect your decision."

You can't believe that those words are coming out of his mouth or that he even tries to comfort you, but you appreciate it. Maybe his heart is still there, he just doesn't let it control him most of the time.

He gets up from the sofa and walks up to you, he takes your hands, ignoring how cold and sweaty they feel in his, "You got this," he assures you.

"Thank you, Chris," you sincerely say with a sad smile.

It is time to stop torturing both you and Lee with lies and forcing yourself to believe that the love is still there. It's time to accept the truth that if you can fall in love, you can also fall out of love.

It's a surprise that Chan worries about things that aren't his business. He's been playing some music to distract him from his head but he keeps the volume low because he doesn't want to miss hearing the sound of the elevator that will tell him any signs that you're back from the dinner.

Eventually, he tires himself out from worrying and falls asleep on the sofa. He startles always close to midnight after hearing the knocking on his doors.

Half disoriented, he trudges his way to open the door and finds you there, surprisingly, looking nice in a white cotton dress and your eyes dry.

But from the way you let yourself into his apartment, forgetting your impeccable manners and walking with shoulders slumped and carrying your shoes in your hands, he takes it that you did it.

"So... how did it go?" He carefully asks, following you as you're making your way to the sofa and then sitting on it.

You let a heavy sigh and your shoulders slumped even more, "At least, there's no crying," you answer with a sad smile.

Chan is unsure of how to react to that, is that a good thing or a bad thing? He just stands there with his arms crossed on his chest, thinking out loud.

"And even though it was ending... it was incredibly meaningful to me and I'm going to miss him," you say with your lips trembling.

Oh, no, Chan knows when a girl is about to cry, he quickly finds a remedy to it, one that he knows always works wonders for him. He runs to the kitchen and brings a bottle out of his alcohol stash, then hands it to you.

"Let's have a drink!" He says, realizing that he forgot the glass.

"Wait another second, I'll get the glass," he says, sprinting to retrieve two glasses from his kitchen cabinet.

When he returns, he sees that you're chugging the alcohol straight from the bottle. You gasp and then wince from the bitter aftertaste of it.

"Okay, straight from the bottle it is," he says, popping onto the sofa next to you.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and then hand the bottle to him in which he wastes not another second to take a sip of it.

"The thing is... I really care about him but he wanted to get married, and I'm just not ready for that," you share with your eyes blank and looking at the void.

You take a deep breath but it seems like it only sends your heart sinking deeper and deeper, and making it harder for you to breathe.

"And if I'm not ready with a guy as great as him then what if I'm never ready?" You say, turning your head his way with your eyes glassy, pooling with tears.

"What if that was it..." you lift your shoulders then drop them as you let out a low sigh, "my one chance at love?"

The tears start streaming down your face like a bursting dam and Chan knows he can't do anything about it but let them out.

Hearing your words makes him think about what his idea of love is. He used to think that it was something he could get whenever he wanted it but now he knows that he's wrong, because that's just a short-lived infatuation, just some sort of meaningless connection.

From you, he learns that love is a privilege that not everyone can experience.

"What if I never get a second chance?" You ask him the question that he doesn't know the answer to.

"I don't know. I'm just sad," your voice cracks, then you break into tears.

Chan is quick to catch you into his arms and offers you his embrace. He knows he can't do anything about this sadness but he can try to soothe the pain, he's placing gentle rubs on your back as you cry into his chest.

The cry is resounding in this space, echoing the sadness back to you and it makes him inexplicably sad too, and he gets the urge to make it stop.

"It's going to be alright," he murmurs at the top of your head.

You look up with your eyes wet and red with tears caught in your lashes, "Is it?" You croak.

He doesn't know when but he knows for sure that time heals everything.

"It will be," he answers with a gentle caress of his knuckle on your wet cheek, "eventually."

Your eyes tell some more assurance for him and he doesn't know what drives him to do it, but he leans in, then kisses you.

To his surprise, you kiss him back and he knows you're doing it because you seek his comfort and he wants to give you exactly that. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, giving you that closeness you seek. He kisses you ever so softly because he knows he's kissing a broken heart and he wants to mend it. He can taste your sadness and the bitterness of it, and also the relief underlying all of it. As he kisses you, he lets his heart open just enough to take some of that sadness away from yours.

As the kiss deepens, the sadness withers, and something else emerges. Chan loses in it for a bit until he realizes what you're trying to do with your hand that reaches for the front of his jeans.

He abruptly detaches his lips from yours and shakes his head, "No, we can't do this," he says.

As much as he fancies you enough to have sex with you, he knows better not to do it when you're not in your right mind and your judgments are clouded with sadness. The last thing he wants is you waking up in the morning full of regrets.

"I want this, Chris," you croak.

"No, we can't," he adamantly says and takes your hand away from him.

"You're sad. You do want this," he says in an effort to put some sense into you.

You roughly crumple the front of his t-shirt and pull him close, "I want– No, I need this, Chris," you say to him with your eyes dark like two bottomless pits.

"Please?" You plead as a tear rolls down from the corner of your eye.

This is the most hopeless he ever heard of you and it breaks his heart. You said it yourself, you need this and he knows what you mean by that. You need the distraction, you need him to take this pain away even just for a fleeting moment, moreover, he can't break what's already broken.

He takes your hand off of his clothes and puts it in his, he leans in until his forehead is pressed against yours.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asks once again.

"Yes," you answer without a beat.

That's all Chan needed to hear, he inhales air and puts an inch between your faces. He then tenderly holds your face with both hands and looks at you, unsure where to start but maybe, he can start by making those tears coming out of your eyes.

Chan dabs the tears pooling in the corner of your eyes with his knuckle and without the slightest of hesitancy, he places a gentle kiss on each of your closed eyelids and before you can open them, he captures your lips in a kiss.

Sex is not something new to him but Chan knows that this time is not about physical fulfillment, but a way to offer comfort and hopefully, to also mend your broken heart.

He takes his time to strip away every piece of clothing on you until you're bare, lying on the bed with nothing but sadness that fills your heart.

He touches you with utmost gentleness, using just his fingertips to feel the softness of your skin and you're so pliant, sensitive to his touch.

To make it fair, Chan takes his clothes off as well before joining you on the bed, caging you in between his arms and hovering only inches away above you.

"Touch me," he says to you, taking your hand and placing it on his shoulder.

He then glides your hand down his neck and chest, he makes you feel every inch of his pale skin with him. However, when he looks at you, your eyes remain on his.

"You feel so warm, Chris," you lowly mutter.

He brings your hand close to his mouth and kisses it, then crashes his lips on yours.

The gap between your bodies becomes non-existent as you keep pulling him close, he relents by lowering himself on top of you and props an elbow against the mattress to not put his whole weight on you.

Lips locked, hands around each other, bodies pressed together and the temperature keeps on rising in the room. Chan makes you feel every part of his lips brushing and gliding over yours. He skillfully parts your mouth open with his tongue so he can kiss you deep and hard, yet slow until you run out of breath.

At the same time, his hand makes its way down until his fingers land on your delicate flesh. He touches it tenderly, running his fingers between the folds, and drags them upward to rub on your bundle of nerves.

"Ah..." you moan against his lips as you curve your hand around his neck and pull him incredibly closer.

Judging from it, he knows he's doing it right and he should continue, he applies gentle pressures on your clit, making you drenched and that way, he can slowly put a digit inside of you.

You let go of his kiss to let out a moan and your head falls onto the pillow as he puts another digit into you, two fingers pumping in and out of you.

Chan intently watches as your face contorted along to the pleasure, how your jaws slack open and breathless moans keep spilling out of your parted mouth.

The way you clench around his fingers makes him impatient to feel you and how tight you feel around him, and the noises you make oh, they're his new favorite tune that he wants to keep listening to until his eardrums burst.

He glances down as he pulls his fingers out of you and finds them thickly coated with your essence, it doesn't stop him from shoving them into his mouth and lick them clean.

Chan holds you by the chin to keep you still as he kisses you, "Give me a second to get a condom, yeah?" He says to you and you nod in answer.

He makes his to the bathroom and pulls the drawer open to take a condom. To save time, he decides to put it on right away, he tears through the foil packet with his teeth and rolls the rubber down his hard length.

On the way out, he catches his reflection in the mirror and gets reminded that this is not about him. Tonight, it's all about you.

He returns to the bedroom, finding you still lying in bed naked and hugging yourself. He climbs onto the bed and lowers himself on you, letting you absorb his body heat to warm you.

Craving for another taste of it, he goes down and plants his mouth on your cunt next, tasting you right on his tongue.

You're squirming as his tongue laps over your wetness, drinking in on your essence and then using it to circle on your clit.

He's not the only one getting impatient and asking more of it, you both want it and there's no wasting time anymore. Just before he takes it to the next part, he places a long, tender kiss on your clit and immediately brings his mouth to yours again so you can taste yourself on him.

"I'm going in, mmh?" He says as he endearingly brushes your hair away from your face.

You hold on to his shoulder as he settles himself between your legs, aligning his cock with your entrance but before that, he rubs his length between your folds, lubricating it with your essence.

Your hands fly to your chest, hugging yourself again as you lowly moan to his hard length rubbing over your clit and then, pushing its way into you.

"Goodness fu—" he can't even finish his sentence without breaking into a satisfied groan.

It's just the tip but he can already feel how tight you are around him, he's scared yet excited to push more of him into you. He reorganizes his breathing and rests his hand on your abdomen to do it.

Chan looks down to check and he still has a little more of him that needs to be inside you, he sharply inhales air through his nostrils and pushes the remaining length in one quick push.

"Oh..." you breathlessly moan as you're squeezing on your breasts.

Chan allows himself to take a moment to adjust himself to being inside you and you seem to also need time to adjust to his size because you feel so incredibly tight around him. It makes him wonder how this little thing can take him so well.

He takes your hands away from your chest and puts them around his shoulders, that way he can put his body on top of you, lips locked with yours again in no time as you wrap your legs around his waist, sending him deeper inside you.

As he takes a breath in between kisses, you hold his face and look at him with a different kind of sadness in your eyes which only reminds him that his initial plan is to make it go away.

He starts thrusting into you, wanting to fuck this sadness out of you. He wants to make you think of nothing but how his cock fills you full and how good he is fucking you right now, and soon, he's going to make you feel nothing but immense pleasure.

"Ah... ah... ah..." you moan for every thrust going into you and the skin-slapping sounds echo along with it in the room.

Chan plants his mouth on your breasts to contain his grunts and groans while keeping the steady motion of his hips pulsating against you.

A hand reaches for his chin and forces him to look at you, instantly engaged in eye contact with you. He continues thrusting into you with eyes looking deep into you, they're no longer looking like bottomless pits, they look like deep oases that he wants to dive into.

The next thing he knows, Chan finds himself deep in you, not just physically but also connected with you in a way that he's never experienced with anyone else until now. He feels barer than he already is and instead of shutting himself off, he embraces it and lets you in.

Soon enough, he finds himself lost in it and fully connects himself to you in a way that lets him know how it feels to love without fears or insecurities holding him back, without worrying if it's being reciprocated or not, to love wholly and completely.

"Oh," you let out a broken moan and that's when he notices that you break into tears again.

Chan abruptly stops moving, afraid that something he does is hurting you without realizing it.

"No, keep going, keep going," you tell him with your voice hoarse.

He needs to make sure to continue, he cups your jaw and asks, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, please, keep going, please," You repeatedly nod and plead with your teary eyes.

He wants you to stop crying, he wants you to stop thinking about what hurts you and start to see him as he tries to take this pain away from you. His body picks up the pace, going impossibly fast and also taking himself close to his high.

Your eyes are screwed shut, your breath is ragged and your hands are gripping onto his shoulders, overwhelmed by the pleasure that he brought on you.

The moment he's sure that you already come to your climax, he allows himself to let go and uses all of his strength to give you a few more thrusts until there's nothing left in him but waves of pleasure that wash over him.

"Chris..." you softly call and then pull him for a chaste kiss on his lips, "Thank you."

Chan's face hovers only inches above you as he softly gazes into your eyes, you look so fragile and open like a wound and he's just glad that he can make your heartache gone even just for a while.

"Shh..." he stops you from talking by running his thumb over your lips and then kisses you with his heart wide open. He lets this beautiful feeling pour out of him and into you.

"No, thank you," he mutters his gratitude between kisses.

Thanks to you, he experiences something he's never felt before with someone else, something new, something pure and real, something that feels a lot like love.

When he wakes up in the morning and finds you're not there, it hits him that maybe it is love but Chan is not ready to admit it yet.

A week passes and Chan hasn't seen you ever since that night.

He can't tell if you're avoiding him or needing the space and time to piece yourself back from the break-up, he hopes it's the latter. Gosh! Let him be right.

Regardless of what happened, he can live with the fact that you despise him but it would be sad to know if you choose to go down the path of believing that you're not going to find love again.

Chan just needs to know if you're doing okay, that's what matters for now.

Fortunately, the two of you have been neighbors for quite a long time to learn your routine and knockabouts. He knows what you like to do on a Saturday morning, he goes to the lobby and chats with the concierge as he waits.

At the first sight of you entering the apartment building, his heart palpation, and in all honesty, he's just so happy to finally see you after a while.

Are you not seeing him there? Or you're just pretending which only confirms his initial thought that you've been, in fact, avoiding him.

You're walking through the lobby carrying a bag of groceries in your arm, you skip checking on the mailbox and go straight to the elevator. It just happens that the elevator is vacant and the doors slide open after you push the button.

Chan decides to take the risk, sprinting to get into the elevator before the doors close. You already despise him so a little more hate shouldn't be a problem to him.

"Morning, sunshine," He greets you with his dimpled grin.

"Good morning," you politely reply without looking at him.

Things are going back to normal and he should be glad, right? At least, you're back to your usual settings of looking stoic and acting polite, and the best thing about it is you're still talking to him.

"I should learn to avoid people from you. You're good at it," he pushes it a bit just to see if he can crack through this facade.

"Excuse me?" Your head turns his way and with your eyes widen, "I have not been avoiding anyone."

Chan holds the urge to smile for successfully getting your attention and rests his back against the cold, metal furnace of the elevator, "Are you sure?"

"Well, we're seeing each other now," you tell him.

"That's because I know you like to go to the farmer's market every Saturday morning," he says at the same time, admitting that he knows about your routine.

You slowly turn your body facing him and squint your eyes at him, "You've been keeping tabs on me?"

"It's my favorite pastime activity," he shamelessly answers then pokes his cheek with his tongue.

"It's better than watching porn," he playfully adds, something that he knows will annoy you the right way.

"Ugh!" You groan as you look straight ahead.

Oddly enough, that's what he misses the most about it, interacting with you and seeing your reaction to his antics, but you, especially.

"Don't be so uptight," he coyly says.

He takes a step closer to you and puts his hand on the handlebar, "it's not like we haven't slept together or anything."

You let out a scoff and hoist the strap of your grocery bag higher on your shoulder, "I'm shocked you even remember," you say.

You turn your head next and your eyes immediately lock in a gaze with him, "I figure I'm just a low notch on a very long bedpost," you add.

"Are you calling me a man whore?" Chan says, feeling offended.

You take a step closer to him and daringly stare back into his eyes, "I didn't call you a man," you answer with a sly smirk.

There's a few seconds of silence until Chan realizes what you just said to him but you know what? He's going to give it to you, for now.

He looks at you and smiles, "Touche!"

You both look at each other and at the same time, burst into laughter, and it keeps going until the hilarity subsides with each passing second.

Is this real? Did you just poke fun at him with a beautiful smile on your face? Did you really laugh and the sound of not only echoing in this enclosed space but also in the back of his mind? Did he just see a different facial expression on you? Either way, he likes it and he likes how it makes him feel.

The elevator chimes open and soon, the doors part open. He lets you get off first and then takes his turn after, he gets a little disappointed as you both are going in the opposite direction.

"Hey, Chris," you call as he's only a couple of steps away from the door of his apartment.

His heart palpation again but he keeps his calm and then slowly, turns on his feet to face you, "Yes?"

"I'm cooking curry for dinner and I know it'll be not as good as the one you always ordered but you can come and..." your hand is fiddling with the strap of your grocery bag as you speak but your eyes remain steady on him, "see if it suits your taste."

And did you just invite him for dinner? Him, the neighbor you despise so much?

Chan acts coy and scratches the back of his head, he holds the urge to answer right away. He has a reputation to uphold and he reckons, you have to at least wait a minute for his answer.

"Yeah, okay, let's see," he nonchalantly answers but his smile tells otherwise.

You crack a laugh and nod, walking to your door with the keys jangling as you're unlocking it.

Chan thinks that's the end of it until you call his name again, his heart leaps this time and he almost flies his way to you.

"Yeah?"

"Don't worry, I'm not going to ask you what are we," you say with a smile then get inside of your apartment.

That's funny because, after that night, he was hoping that you would ask him that as most girls do but that's where he is wrong, you're not most girls, you are his neighbor whom Chan is secretly in love with.

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@svintsandghosts @abiaswreck @ppiri-bahng @drhsthl @idkluvutellme @biribarabiribbaem @skz-streamer @biancaness @hanjisunginc @elizalabs3 @laylasbunbunny @kpopformylife @caitlyn98s @hann1bee @mamieishere @is2cb97 @marvelous-llama @bluenights1899 @sherryblossom @toplinehyunjin @hanjisbeloved @yourmomscuntis2tighy @sunnyseungup @skz4lifer @stellasays45 @severeanxietyissues @avyskai @imseungminsgf @silentreadersthings @army-stay-noel @rylea08 @simeonswhore @jebetwo @yubinism @devilsmatches @septicrebel @rairacha @cutiespaghetti @ven-fic-recs @hyunjiinnnn @lostgirlinthewoodss @schniti-is-in-the-house @jisunglyricist @9900z

#it’s the damn pigeons fr #😂#stray kids smut #skz smut #bangchan smut #bangchan x reader #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #skz fics #🍋’s thoughts #🍋’s recommendations #💯/💯 fic #I think I’ll make curry for dinner as well actually

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mindninjax · 4 years ago

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I just saw your tags on my smut and 💀💀 I’m weak “FANCY PORN” 💀 thank you so much now I’ll put that as one of my fav compliments❤️

BAHAHAH no problem boo😘😘. That was some GOOD food. Can’t wait to read more! 💖💖

Also y’all check that shit out. It was 👌🏾👌🏾👌🏾 top notch.

#Marquie answers #bnhainthewoo #NEW FRIEND ALERT?!?#I THINK SOOOOOOO

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starboyyoongi · 5 months ago

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okay i have to talk about this series because it’s been driving me insane (in a very good way!) 🗣️

i randomly came across this series maybe last week or so? and since then i’ve been reading parts of it whenever they came across my feed. and holy shit when i tell y’all that every single chapter does not disappoint i mean it 😭 first off, the plot. i absolutely love how the plot develops with every chapter despite each one focusing on a different person (or set of characters). i’ve been reading this series a little out of order yet i don’t feel like i’m missing out on anything because of how cohesive every part is and it’s just 👌🏾 chefs kiss

but what really caught my attention with this series are the characters and seeing their development over time. not a single person in this series feels flat or 2d whatsoever and it’s just ✨perfection✨ i love how we get to see them change as the series progresses and it’s not rushed?? like at all?? and there’s no plot holes either?? idk if i’m making any sense xbshwjjs but i guess what i’m trying to say is that i love how well written the characters are and i love it like a lot 😭

(i forgot to add this earlier but i love how this fic gives you demons with personality and shows how complex they are!!)

also the smut? oh, baby i be giggling, gasping, and kicking my feet the entire time 🤭 (some of my kinks have shown up in this series but you didn’t hear it from me)

overall issa 11/10 for me and i will never stfu about this series sorry. yes i’m emotionally attached to it and yes i’m excited af for whatever happens next 💃🏾

Her Soldier: Demon!San x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Incubi!San x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, smut, angst MINOR DNI

Word Count: 14k

Summary: Injured during a mission to protect Lucifer's child, San begins to doubt his dreams of having his own someday. It's only your comfort that convinces him it's not all pointless.

Tags: polyamorous relationship (m/m/m/f) bisexual!demonline, graphic depictions of violence, serious injuries, scenes of child birth/child labor, blood, blood and violence, angels vs demons, religious imagery, underage storylines, mentions/allusions to underage violence, implied child neglect/abuse, crime, mentions of childbirth death and complications, fluffy vanilla sex this time, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, breeding kink, breeding.

Pretty Lady Masterlist

Previously on Pretty Lady

***

He’d never seen anything like it before. The young woman laid on the stone table in the torch lit room, sweat gleaming on her body and blood oozing from her legs. Dark hairs sticking to her forehead, her face squeezed tight as she made attempts to push the child from her. Women wearing black cloaks stood around her, dabbing cold cloths on her forehead and encouraging her to breathe between pushes. One sat at the edge between her legs, gloves on her knobbly hands as she urged the woman to keep going. Around the room, monks in crimson cloaks held black candles. Her cries drowned out their low chanting, an incantation to welcome the new babe into the world. San couldn’t keep his eyes off the mother. She looked so young. She couldn’t be any older than you, and here she was harboring the greatest responsibility a servant of Lucifer can bear.

His seed.

He’d heard people around her say how lucky she is to be pregnant with Lucifer’s child; it is a high honor to carry the King’s child. They tell her that she will be the mother of a powerful lord, who will take over the world and rule as a living god. He heard one midwife talk of Lucifer’s other children, and how successful they’d become. Very few women have had the privilege to carry the new Antichrist. She should be thankful for this child’s birth is a slight upon The Almighty. San knew he’d be more worried about not dying during the birth than the honor of being chosen.

“Your first birthing ceremony, son?”

The soldier beside him leaned over and whispered, not catching anyone’s attention. San almost didn’t hear him. He saw more blood staining the mother’s white dress. San shed more blood than either of his brothers, but this was different.

“Yes, sir.”

Hector chortled. His former commander stood in bronze armor that popped against his green tinged skin. His horns, white and ribbed, curved from the top of his forehead and his wings remained close to his back. He stood several inches taller than San, and much wider too.

“Is it always this…bloody?” he asked, watching the midwife reach forward.

“Yes, sometimes bloodier depending on the woman,” he replied. “It is an honor to be here, Choi. Not just anyone is chosen to protect The King’s offspring.”

“I know.”

The messenger came to the Black Keep with a royal summons from His Majesty to San. San thought it might be to perform a demonstration in the frozen palace in the ninth circle, since he’d done it before, but he’d been wrong. Lucifer had impregnated another follower, who was due any day. They’d chosen him and others to protect the mother and child. His brothers begged him not to go.

“You could die, San. You could actually die if an angel gets their sword in you.”

“Please, decline. You can tell him that while you are honored, you cannot accept. San, you’d be going to the living world and you’d be facing holy magic. That can actually kill us. Do you hear me? A holy blade can and will kill you.”

“Sannie, don’t go.”

Your plea had been the softest of them. Even if you didn’t fully understand the gravity of the situation, you didn’t like the sound of it. The look of concern in your eyes haunted him as he stepped through the portal into the living world. He found himself memorizing your kiss when they arrived at the church. Standing in the circular room, watching a young woman give her life for her master, you kept rushing to his mind. It was possible that this birth would be successful and he'd go home to you. But, the likelihood of a fight was also possible. Every soldier faces the risk when they head into battle. San knows once he picks up his sword, he agrees to the fight. There’d been a time in his life where he’d join without hesitation, but that changed when you arrived.

The image of you sitting across from him, laughing at one of his jokes and engaging in conversation, brought comfort to him. In a world of blood and pain, you’d become a beacon of warmth; the candle in the window or the light in his valley of darkness. When he first looked at you upclose, seeing you in the soft firelight, he felt you slip through the chinks in his armor. He still thinks about the vision of you on the soft sheets, soundlessly sleeping next to him the morning after. He’d wanted to stay holding you a bit longer. San wanted to know the beautiful “human” who’d wandered into his life so unexpectedly. He’s thankful you’d decided to stay so he can keep digging for more.

“Father,” the midwife turned to the coven leader, “There’s something wrong.”

“What’s wrong?!” the mother panicked hearing this, eyes wide with fear as she looked between them. Neither priest or midwife answered her, but instead quietly spoke to one another. “What is going on?! What’s wrong with my baby?!”

San’s blood ran cold. He watched the pair continue talking before the priest went to retrieve a black bottle from a nearby altar. He bid the mother to drink it, telling her it’ll save her child. San saw him bring the bottle to her lips, and she gulped it greedily. Thin crimson trails leaked from the sides of her mouth, not going to waste as she wiped them. Suddenly, she screamed. A terrible, painful scream ripped through her chest and out into the world. Bony fingers gripped the sheets underneath her, and her toes tightly curled inwards. The midwives encouraged her to keep pushing, even as her screams turned into guttural snarls. San’s eyes widened as that final push ended in high pitched squeals drowning her out. The coven members awed and praised her as the head midwife pulled the squalling babe from her.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Hector asked, wiping his eyes. “I always cry at these things.”

“Yes. It’s wonderful,” San said in a monotone voice.

The midwife wiped the blood and matter from the baby, and San finally caught a look at it. Skin the color of snow, he saw small hands and feet kicking around before being swaddled in a blanket. The mother beamed happily, laughing as she held her baby to her naked chest.

“She’s beautiful, Francesca,” smiled the midwife. “You’ve done well, my child.”

“What’s her name, Sister?” asked one of the attendants.

“Gisella,” the mother sniffled, unable to stop her happy tears. “Her name is Gisella.”

Francesca kissed her daughter’s forehead, not bothered by her small claws or dark red eyes. San knew once the child grew, the human features would start appearing. He wondered if any child you two had would be the same. His heart fluttered imagining you in her position, holding his child and crying tears of joy. It was unlikely you’d want children or a family, since you never showed interest in having them, but he knew you at least liked babies. You smiled whenever you saw one in the street, and some friends of yours had them. The dream of you carrying his children, being a mother to them would be a dream.

“Choi,” Hector called to him from the birthing bed, “Come see her.”

In timid steps, San approached them. The stench of blood grew thicker, but the sight of the newest Antichrist took his attention away. The baby had His Majesty’s sharp nose and round eyes, but her mother’s lips and chin.

“Congratulations,” San said kindly.

“Thank you,” she smiled, immediately looking back at her baby.

“His Majesty must be informed at once,” the priest said.

“I’ll have one of my men go inform him…” Hector said, but San tuned him out right away.

An unnatural breeze blew in from the nearby tunnel entrance. His entire body moved into action. In an instant, a figure in bright gold armor appeared from thin air, raising their longsword to slash at San. He blocked it with his own sword, then swiped at them. The angel, with their large feather wings, lifted into the air and more of them appeared. Then, the battle began. San and Hector stood by the table while their fellows fought off those at the entrances. The angel who’d attacked San came at him again, but a swing of his sword to the midriff and then to the back of their wings wounded the celestial being. San then blocked another angel’s sword, kicking them right in the chest and stabbing them in the gut. All the adrenaline he’d held back came at him full force. It fueled his fast, precise movements, causing his heart to pound in his ears and made him hyper aware of his surroundings.

“Beat them back!” ordered Hector, who blocked an angel’s sword. “Protect the babe!”

He could not fail. If the angels managed to get their hands on the baby, they’d never see her again. One angel flew and landed on top of the table, reaching for Gisella, but a slice at the back of their ankles crippled them. San then stabbed them right in the neck, blood spurting from the wound and the angel clutched their neck as they fell. He had no time to observe.

“Can you stand?” he asked Francesca, who shook her head.

“Take her,” the young woman cried, handing Gisella to him. “Please, take her.”

“Take the baby and get out, Choi,” Hector ordered.

He gently took the baby from Francesca, and held it close to him. Due to all the noise and commotion stimulating her senses, little Gisella’s shrieks nearly blew out his ears. San, unable to use one arm, swung his sword at any enemy he came across through the tunnels. The portal back home was on the other side of the church, underneath the Vatican streets. Urgency pushed him forward, and panic had him holding the child close to his chest. He moved through the caverns until he reached a large room where seven demonic statues stood facing the center. Yet, right as he reached the very threshold, one of the angels grabbed him by the metal arm guard and spun him away. San lost his grip on Gisella, who floated in the air before being caught by an angel.

“No!” he screamed, scrambling to stand and rush at the man holding Lucifer’s child, but was then countered by another soldier.

The burning heat of a holy blade seared his skin, sinking further into his body. All the air in his went out in a single gasp. His muscles constricted, but he maintained his own strength. As the pain took over, San reached for the dagger on his belt. The handle carved with serpents slithering towards the rose pummel, San sunk his blade into the angel’s exposed neck. Blood poured out from the angel’s mouth and artery, while more bled out from San’s side. The angel fell first, laying flat on their wings as they struggled to stay alive. Demon blades held the same power as holy ones. Falling to the ground, San took deep breaths on the stone ground. Each one burned, and he felt them start to choke him. He grabbed at the wound between his ribs. His vision started to blur and blacken, but he blinked it away. Images suddenly flashed before his eyes.

Hongjoong smirking and winking as he stole a grape from San’s bowl.

Seonghwa smiling widely, a book in his lap and the sun beaming behind him.

The three of them sitting in the lounge, chattering and laughing together.

And you. Wonderful you. Your eyes are bright with happiness as flowers grow all around you. Face down on the floor, the stone scratching his cheeks and arms, he held onto images of the four of you. The sounds of his enemies fleeing with the squealing baby became muddled and inaudible to him. He thought of your laugh, sweet and cheerful. He’d promised to come home. More pain shot through him as the magic took over, sapping more life from him.

“Choi!” he heard a voice say from nearby.

Before, he would’ve been glad to be dying for his king. He’d feel honored to die fighting. Not anymore. Now, he wanted to live. San only groaned, rolling onto his back. He struggled for a breath, clutching onto each one as it may be his last. He told Seonghwa he’d be back in no time. It’d been almost a month. Hands grabbed at him, and he left the ground.

He told Hongjoong not to worry; that he’d been in tons of battles before.

He told you he’d be fine. He said he’d be home before you knew it.

Promises he’s unable to keep. San clung on to every breath, feeling the pain it brought and the hollowness of his chest. The sudden nothingness of the portal sucked more precious life from him. He heard voices all around him. Bright lights burned his eyes. Where were you? He wanted to see you. He wanted to see his brothers. Several hands laid him on a firm surface, and small wheels could be heard underneath him.

“You’re going to be alright, son,” he heard Hector’s voice. “You’re going to be alright.”

His Darling, who brought so much comfort to him. He’d never known real comfort until he ended up in Hell. The couple he’d been given to gave him the bare minimum. The witch, Hyeon, and her servant, Heechul, took him in as a baby and never told him about his true identity. He’d only learned what a family was when his brothers took him into their home.

Darkness came over him the moment the cart stopped. He forced himself to stay awake, despite the blood filling his lungs to choke him. San wanted to see you. He needed to see you one last time.

“YN…”

****

“Wake up, you stupid boy!”

The world came to him in a blur. He blinked back the rays of sun peeking in between the cracks in the curtains. Outside his doorway, he heard the other tenants starting to rise from their corners of the shared room. The stench of sweat, illness and filth sunk right into his nose at the first breath; he coughed it out as he did every morning.

“I said ‘get up’!”

A swift kick to his ribs took the breath from his chest. San curled inwards on the thin mattress, groaning as the pain subsided into a dull ache. Kicks to the stomach hurt more without any fat protecting it. Immediately, the boy stood up from his bed on heavy legs. Ahead of him, a skinny woman with messy black hair in a bun walked away from him to a rickety dresser. He watched her start slipping into a ragged chemise and stockings. In a corner of their small area, a man in rags sat passed out against the wall. The dark bottle beside him told San he'd drunk too much gin again. He recalled Hyeon and Heechul’s argument last night, and the latter likely drowned his sorrows in the drink. The yellowish puddle around him made San’s stomach churn.

“Daniel!” Hyeon screeched from her cot, using his English name.

“I’m up.”

He picked up the gin bottle from Heechul, and finished it off. The pure liquor stung his throat, but relieved his thirst and woke him up right away. All around him, he heard people starting to rise from their beds to begin their day. He saw Mrs. Cimorelli pulling on the top layer of her dress. His eyes scanned over her slim figure, taking in her soft curls and olive skin. A shudder went through him when he recalled a few nights previous, when he’d offered her his last bit of coin for a suck. His age, fifteen, didn’t matter to a whore like her. San snapped back into reality when a sharp hand hit the back of his head. This caused Mrs. Cimorelli to turn her head. It took her a moment, but she smirked when she realized he’d been watching her.

“Filthy lout,” Hyeon scoffed, pulling on her worn out boots. “You’re going to catch a pox one day, boy. You mark my words.”

“Ah, shut up, you ol’ cow,” he snapped back, rubbing where she’d hit him.

“You're lucky I got work, or you'll get more than a clout on the ear. You get yourself right and get going. The overseer will deduct your wages if you’re late.”

San glared at her. He'd grown used to it since arriving in New York. Whenever she started barking about work, he thought of telling Hyeon they’d do better starving back home than starving in a new country. Though, she’d quickly retort with, “There aren’t any jobs at home.” He’d then tell her fortune tellers and mediums did just as well in Korea as they did in New York.

When Hyeon turned her back, San quickly snatched the lump of bread she had hidden under her blanket. Taking a bite of the hard lump, he glanced back at Mrs. Cimorelli as he passed her. Her small wink and smile warmed his blood. If he made enough, he’d give her another go if he caught her on the street that night. San walked past the other tenants in the small apartment space, nodding to those he knew and turning from those he didn’t and walked outside. In the stairwell, he heard the hustle of the morning crowds. He heard and smelled everything around him. He heard babies crying behind closed doors; he caught Mr. And Mrs. Wang arguing about Mr. Wang’s drinking again; he saw Daisy, Irene, and Sarah walking up the stairs from their night on the streets.

“Morning, Handsome,” Daisy, straight black hair in a messy braid and dress slightly askew, smiled at him. “We missed you last night.”

“Sorry ladies, I had places to be,” he said apologetically as he walked down past them.

“Will you be out tonight?” asked Irene, a red blotch starting to bruise on her peachy skin. “You know I always save space for you.”

“If the boss lets me,” he winked, walking down the steps to the next floor.

The best thing about New York? The girls. Back home, girls shared the conservative, modest views of their parents. The women in the brothels looked tempting, but they didn’t service teens. The ladies he’d met in America did him as long as he had enough money.

Coming out into the street, San took in the sights and smells of New York’s Chinatown. It wasn’t strictly speaking only Chinese people. A melting pot of different ethnicities and races lived in the small community, working and surviving off meager wages. Those with a bit more sand did jobs for the gangs around the city. When he first arrived, San got a job at the textile factory working the looms. It was a dangerous job for a skinny boy who barely spoke English, but it was better than the street. Of course, any money he made went directly to Hyeon, who claimed to spend it on ‘keeping them above ground’. Heechul worked in the fish market, coming home stinking of fish guts and stagnant water every day, while Hyeon was a seamstress who told fortunes on the side. It was when he beat down two thugs trying to rob him that he caught the attention of crime boss Lee “Benny” Siwon. Siwon led the gang known as the Black Lotus, a gang known for smuggling, theft, and drugs. He offered San a place in his gang.

San had been working for him ever since.

Making a right turn down an alley, he passed through a market street where vendors peddled their wares. His stomach growled seeing the fruits and vegetables being left out. He bypassed a fruit vendor, and with a deft hand, took up the topmost apple in the pile. The vendor never noticed. Nobody noticed. He waited until he’d gotten a good distance before he sunk his teeth into it. The sweet juice filling his mouth pushed back the constant seed of hunger. San could never take food home, otherwise Hyeon split it and gave him the small pieces. One might think a new country with better opportunities would make the old witch turn over a new leaf. It’d done nothing.

San finally reached a small restaurant nestled between a butcher’s shop and a chemist. The black lotus sign hanging above the door told people who ran these streets. He walked in with a small smile, seeing people already at tables and servers taking orders. The boys sitting at a nearby table took notice of him first, all of them smiling and greeting him. He shook hands, and took the shot of gin that they offered. As the boys went back to talking about their various runs, San lit a cigarette and took his first puff of the day. Any minute now, Siwon will send one of his thugs to give them various jobs for the day. Everything from passing on messages, picking up or dropping off products to theft and beating people up could be assigned to any of them. San hoped he’d be sent on one of the more important jobs for once. Things like stealing from rival gangs, picking up money from extorted business owners, or roughing up people who owed money paid much more. Siwon promised he’d give him a chance one day, but ‘one day’ is too far away.

“Hey boys,” a tall man with square shoulders and an oval face approached them. In his tailored pin-strip suit, he looked like any ordinary gentleman.

“Shoiming!” the boys cheered, clasping hands with the older man.

“I got your jobs right here,” he said, holding up a few papers. "You know your streets. You know your marks,” he began passing items to certain boys, “Get the job done fast, you get paid even faster.”

Shoiming handed everyone a slip, and San looked at his. From the scrawled handwriting, he saw mostly pick ups and drop offs. He sucked his teeth. Pennies again. He supposed low wages were better than none. He stood up from the table, holding his cigarette in the corner of his mouth, as he tucked the paper into his pocket. It was then that Shoiming stopped him by the shoulder. For a split second, San thought he’d get a scolding for his reaction, but the large man didn’t seem angry.

“Do your work quickly,” he said, “Siwon has a big job for you tonight.”

“Really?” San’s eyes lit up. “What is it? Smuggling? Roughing up?”

“Something like that,” he nodded. “Go on, now.”

San walked with a pep in his step the rest of the day. While Hyeon thought he was at the factory, he was really jumping from place to place. He handed off packages and messages that couldn’t be sent through official channels. He bought and sold the items given to him by various vendors. San even took time to go into the fancy part of town where he picked pockets. He’d gotten away with a decent loot: a gold pocket watch, a few coins, three rings he lifted from a shop, and a snuff box he stole from a fancy lady. Siwon will be so impressed, he’ll take him on the big jobs. By nightfall, San felt nervous and excited. He came back to the restaurant with his loot and messages.

“Good haul,” nodded Shioming. He took the pocket watch, two rings and the snuff box. “Siwon’s not here. He told me to tell you to meet him at Flannery’s Hall. It’s on King’s street, not too far from here.”

“What’s that? Some kind of club?”

“Yes, now hit the bricks. Don’t be late.”

He left right away, going down all the alleys and side streets until he reached King’s street. The nightlife started buzzing to life around him. New York never slept, he’d come to learn during his time there. Back home, everything grew quiet once the work day ended. That wasn’t the case in this new country. Life kept going even as the moon reached high into the sky. He liked that. He never grew bored or anxious in the hustle of the city. Walking down a row of clubs and bars, San stopped outside the one with the sign ‘Flannery’s Hall’ written on it. He only stopped because his stomach twisted tightly. A pair of women’s boots hung on the newel post leading down into the building’s basement. San tried not thinking anything of it as he walked through the doors.

Once inside, a new world unfolded in front of him. In the small bar, he saw men sitting and drinking at tables with pretty girls. Except, most of the ‘pretty girls’ weren’t girls at all. They were boys in girls’ clothes and wigs who’d powdered their faces. In various stages of dress, they moved about the room to their marks while one “girl” sang up on a stage in a falsetto voice. San’s insides told him to run, but he knew better. Siwon didn’t like people who didn’t follow orders. He walked up to the bar where a young man stood handing out mugs of beer.

“Excuse me,” he said to the man, “I’m looking for Siwon. My boss said he’d be here.”

“Nah, I ain’t seen him,” the barman replied.

A lie. He likely didn’t trust San. Most white people didn’t. He huffed and turned to the room. San tried not noticing the boys around him. He found them to be beautiful in and out of their dresses. He supposed them dressing as girls made it easier for their customers to stomach their desires. San preferred boys who looked like boys and girls who looked like girls. Of course, he kept that bit to himself. If Hyeon knew, she’d kick him out for sure. She’d rather he be stealing than selling himself to old men.

“I know where Benny is,” someone said to him.

In a very short night dress and stockings, there was nothing hiding the fact that they were a boy. Blond hair cropped short, he wore a thin robe that barely hid the naked flesh exposed underneath. He sat on the bar stool next to San, light blue eyes sultry and flirtatious, and leaned closer.

“I can take you to him.”

“What’s it going to cost me?”

“For you? Not a dime. I’m Lucy,” he said, “Benny and I are pretty close. I can get you in with him.”

“He asked me to come,” San said.

Lucy paused, his seductive stare breaking for a brief moment, “Huh, alright. Come with me, handsome.”

Lucy walked him through the bar’s main floor and up the stairs. He tried ignoring the workers servicing their clients or sitting in their rooms waiting for the next one. San enjoyed a good brothel, but something about Flannery’s Hall disgusted him. Not the boys or the girls, but the clientele. Old, wrinkled men who want things that real girls would not do. He saw one man in just his trousers come out of a room holding his shirt. Even after being with the person inside, he still sized San up with hungry eyes. He nearly vomited before moving onwards. Lucy led him to a series of rooms on the third floor. These rooms weren’t much quieter either. His body grew numb. He regretted coming here.

“Do you know what he wants?” he asked Lucy, keeping the nerves out of his voice.

“What every man that comes here wants.” He brought San to the last room and turned around, “Just relax. It’ll be over a lot quicker than you think.”

He blew San a kiss, and walked away. San could run. He could turn tail back home and pretend he’d gotten lost. He can say he got picked up by cops. But, he knew Siwon. The old man would see right through him. It wouldn’t be his first time with a man, but those had been different. He didn’t do it for money or by force then. San turned the knob, took a deep breath, and went inside.

“-And I told him, ‘Sure you can have it, but let me tell you, this snuff bites back!’”

Siwon sat in a well furnished room with a group of other well-dressed men. He stayed frozen by the door, counting down the seconds before someone saw the young, good-looking boy in the doorway. Siwon lifted his head first, gleeful and sucking on the end of a cigar, and smiled at San.

“San! There you are!” He stood up and walked over to him, patting his shoulder. “I worried you might’ve gotten picked up.”

“I ain’t a whore,” San heard himself say defiantly. “I ain’t sucking anything I don’t want to suck.”

Siwon appeared stunned by his words. “What?” he said in disbelief, but then it came to him and he laughed. “No, no, Sannie. You don’t have to worry about that. That’s not why I called you here.”

“It’s not?”

“Hell no,” he said. “You’re a good looking kid, San, but my girls have to be delicate and pretty. You’re too rough for that kind of work. Nah, I got a better job for you.” He put his arm around his shoulders and brought him closer to the men, “You see these men?”

San nodded, and he immediately noticed their fine suits, pocket watches and shiny shoes.

“They’re some friends of mine from uptown,” Siwon continued. “I told them I’d show them a good time while they’re visiting our little corner of New York. Now, I got the ladies and the booze, but we need the entertainment. That’s where you come in.”

“I ain’t following, Siwon.”

“This,” he gestured to another boy on the other side of the room, “Is Tiny.”

Tiny stood much taller than San, with muscular arms, legs and chest. In nothing but a pair of trousers, he might’ve been mistaken for a grown man if the face didn’t give away his age. San saw the faint scars on Tiny’s bronze skin, and the scab on his lower lip. He gulped down his nerves when the truth came out.

“And you’re going to fight him.”

****

“San? San? Can you hear me?”

The voice came to him through a blurry haze. A gentle hand touched his face, and he instantly swatted it away. He pictured Siwon, the old man who’d caused his death, hanging over him with disappointed eyes. He’d lost the fight. Tiny beat him to a bloody pulp and he landed in the hospital. It explained the pain coursing through his body, starting at his torso and radiating across the rest of him. A low groan escaped him as a rough hand cupped his face.

“San, wake up,” a familiar high voice said, not in the usual forceful tone but tender and calm. “Wake up, Sannie.”

“I’m sorry,” he coughed, the breath he took hurting his chest.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” they said. “We’re just glad you’re home.”

“San,” a female voice spoke to him. Hyeon? No, not Hyeon. Someone whose voice calmed every nerve in his body. The other person moved away as the woman came closer. “It’s me,” she said, “It’s YN.”

Opening his eyes at last, he saw you next to his hospital bed. Your eyes, puffy and red, stared at him worryingly. The girls in New York looked nothing like you. They had bruises or scratches from rough customers, and they carried that New York bred toughness about them. You had sand, but softness too. If he’d met you then, he would’ve tried keeping it straight and narrow. He’d get an honest job and marry you. That’s what couples did back then; they got married. But then, he wouldn’t know who and what he was.

“YN…” your name left him in a hoarse croak.

“Yeah, it’s me,” you sniffed. “We’ve been so worried about you.”

“I’m okay,” he said unconvincingly.

“You got stabbed in the lung and started choking on your own blood,” said Seonghwa. “You aren’t okay.”

“What?”

Then the truth came to him. The birth. The angels. The baby. “Where’s Gisella?” he asked, panicking. “Did we get her back?”

“Gisella?”

“He means the baby,” Seonghwa told you. “They lost her,” he answered San’s question. “The angels got away before we could get her back.”

He’d failed. Once again, he’d let somebody down. “What happened after?”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” he said. “You stay here and rest.”

“What happened?” he asked more forcefully.

“They brought you here,” Hongjoong answered. “Hector told Lucifer they’d taken the baby, and, well, losing a kid isn’t great news.”

“You’re lucky he doesn’t blame you,” Seonghwa said. “The guy’s lost so many Antichrists that he isn’t surprised when the angels take them away.” He paused, looking down at his younger brother. “Let’s give San some breathing room. We’ll come back later, Brother.”

A pair of lips touched his forehead, and another hand ruffled his hair. San reached out for you, grabbing your sweater. “Stay,” he said, though felt himself dozing off again, “Don’t go.”

“I’ll stay here.”

“Until they kick you out,” noted Hongjoong.

San heard footsteps cross the linoleum floors and a door softly close. The scent of oranges caught in his nose, and he inhaled it until his lungs hurt. Your fingers pushed hair from his forehead, giving him a way to catch your hand.

“I thought you’d died,” you said in a whisper, afraid to break the quietness of the room. “When you didn’t come home after a week, I thought something happened to you.”

“The birth took longer than expected.”

“It made me think of what it’d be like without you,” he heard your tears thicken your voice. “I don’t like it.”

“I wouldn’t prefer it either.”

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” you said, sniffling. “You hear me?”

“I’ll try.” He felt you rest your head on the bed, still staring at him with watery eyes. San hated seeing his Darling cry. “Please don’t,” he said. “I’ll be okay now, Darling.”

“I can’t help it.”

He cupped your cheek and wiped a stray tear. Whatever painkiller they’d given him slowly took over again. He didn’t let go of you, worried about where he might end up.

“Just sleep, Sannie,” you said, kissing his inner wrist. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

****

He should be in pain. The bones Tiny broke with bloody fists should be cracked and poking through his skin. Blood should be dripping from the broken teeth and cut cheeks onto the floor. His jaw, his arms, and shoulders suffered so much pain that they must be in pain. Yet, when he opened his eyes, he felt barely anything. Only a dull stiffness in his muscles remained. A soft groan pulled itself from his chest, which did not feel broken or torn apart. He forced himself to open his eyes, but immediately regretted it.

“Welcome,” a man’s voice said from nearby. It didn’t sound like anyone he knew. “Name?”

“Huh?”

“Your name, son. What is your name?”

“Daniel,” he answered with his English name.

“Your true born name, please.”

“San.”

“Surname?”

“Choi.”

He blinked the pain from his eyes, and took in his surroundings. He found himself on a cold, hard floor. Looking around, he saw empty chairs in a carpeted room. When he glanced upward, he saw a man in a purple suit standing behind a window like a bank teller. Except, this wasn’t a bank.

“Choi San, Choi San, Choi San,” the suited man looked through a thick, leather bound book. “Date of birth?”

“July 10th, 1910.”

He sensed the man’s silence when he finally stood on his stiff legs. The man, dark skinned with tight black curls, looked at him in astonishment. All the breath came out of him at once, and he fixed up his suit jacket.

“My-My Lord,” he said, “Forgive me. We weren’t expecting you so early. You had four more years until you came of age. This is, I’m sorry to say, quite irregular for us.”

“What’re you talking about?” he asked, confused. He touched his lip where Tiny slammed his fist last, and felt the split skin. “Where am I?”

“You’re home, sir,” he answered. “I am Charon, ferryman of souls.”

“Okay, and what’s that supposed to mean?”

“That you’re in Hell, my lord.”

San’s eyes widened, and his heart jumped into his throat. “I’m where?”

“In Hell,” he repeated. “Since you are a demon, you came to my station instead of the forest.”

“Look,” he walked up to the window, “I know I wasn’t the best kind of kid, but I couldn’t have been that-” then he stopped. “Wait, what did you say?”

“I said that since you are a demon-”

“-What? I ain’t a demon.”

“Yes, you are. Look for yourself.”

Charon turned the book around to show San a list of names scrawled in black ink. He pointed to San’s name, “Choi San, birth date July 10th, 1910. Mother: Kim Youngmi. Father: Asmodeus, Prince of Lust and Lord of Depravity. You’re a Duke of Lust, my lord.” He paused, “Did you…Did you not know that?”

San stared at the names. That couldn’t be right. Hyeon and Heechul were his parents. As terrible as they were, they’d tolerated him enough to feed and house him. Hyeon always told him she’d given birth to him in their house in Korea. Heechul claimed to have delivered San on his own. No Youngmi or Asmodeus came looking for him.

“I can’t be. I just can’t.”

“But you are,” he closed the book, “You’re a very important person down here, my lord.”

“I ain’t a ‘lord’.”

“Yes, you are. Come with me. The ferry for Depravity hasn’t left yet.”

Charon walked out from behind the window and walked him to the front door. He led San out into what reminded him of the ferry back in New York. Thousands of people moved in straight lines towards the different colored ferries. A melancholic, dreadful feeling carried through the air. San thought he’d stepped into the most miserable place he’d ever been. He followed Charon down a flight of stairs opposite the one leading down to the crowds. By the ropes separating this line from the others, San guessed he’d gotten special treatment. Charon led him past the flowing black river, the crowds thinning the further they walked from the main ferries.

“Are all those people demons too?” he asked.

“No, these are reluctant sinners or those who received no baptism or funeral rites,” he said. “They’re taken across the river to Inferno’s port where they’re shepherded to Limbo. That’s where the sin seers figure out where to put them. Don’t fret, my lord. You’re not going to Limbo.”

“Where am I going?”

“Home.”

“Home?”

“The Lands of Depravity, located several circles above the circle of lust,” he said. “Your older brothers will explain more.”

“Brothers?” San gulped, “I have brothers.”

“You didn’t know that either? Whoof, whoever raised you certainly did you no favors,” he huffed.

Charon led him to a smaller dark green ferry. At the bottom of the ramp leading onto it stood a soldier in bronze armor. Charon approached with a self-important smugness.

Charon turned to him. “Here’s your ferry and your ticket,” he handed San a ticket from his inner pocket. “Hand it to the guard, and he’ll let you on board. It’s a short trip, but there’s plenty of food and drink there.”

“Thanks,” San said, reading the white ticket.

“You’re welcome, and I hope you enjoy your new home.”

San nodded as Charon left his side. Anxiously, he walked up to the guard.

“Ticket, please,” he said. When San handed it to him, he checked and then stamped an approval. “Welcome to Hell, my lord.”

“Thanks.”

San took careful steps up the ramp. It reminded him of the ferries back in New York, except this one didn’t have any people. An attendant in a purple vest and pencil skirt smiled brightly when he walked into the sitting room. She offered him refreshments, but he declined. He might vomit if he digested anything. Sitting on a chair, he kept an eye on his surroundings. He wanted to think he’d entered a sort of coma-induced dream. Right now, he’s really in a hospital bed. Any second, he’ll wake up and it would’ve been a big dream.

He figured out he was wrong once the ferry reached port. The attendant led him to the ramp and gave him the typical customer-service farewell. At the bottom, he spotted dozens of people leaving their own boats to come ashore. He might as well be in New York, coming off a ferry from one part of the city to another. San had no clue where to go from here. Charon gave him no directions, and the attendant told him nothing. Staring around, he saw certain people in suits holding up signs. He spotted a tall, broad-shouldered man in a suit holding a card with his name on it.

“Um, hello?” San approached him slowly.

“Choi San?” the man asked with bright eyes.

“That’s me.”

“Oh, wonderful,” he laughed with relief. “I’m Yunho. I work for your brothers. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sir. We weren’t expecting you for a few more years.”

“Things happen,” he shrugged.

“As they do,” he agreed. “Come with me. I'm going to take you straight home.”

“Where is ‘home’?”

“The Lands of-”

“-Depravity, yeah, the Charon guy told me that. What is home? Who is there?”

Yunho guided him towards the turnstiles, “The Black Keep. Well, it isn’t so ‘black’ anymore, but the name’s endured the centuries. Your brothers, Lords Seonghwa and Hongjoong live there. When they received Charon’s message, they were overjoyed.”

“They don’t even know me.”

“That’s not important. You share a mother and father. Do you understand how rare that is for a demon prince?”

“My dad’s a prince?”

“Yes, Prince Asmodeus. Charon didn’t tell you?”

“He glossed over it.”

“As usual. I suppose it’s excusable since he has a lot on his plate. Things have been heavy for him since Lucifer added more ferry boats…”

He brought San over to a motorcar. Black with white leather seats, San hesitated to get inside. “I ain’t never been in a motorcar before.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

The car ride distracted San from the city around him. He hardly noticed how much it reminded him of the big cities of the world. He held onto the side of the car as it bumped and rode through the streets. Soon enough, they’d left Inferno and ended up in a vast countryside. It looked nothing like what he expected. Evergreen trees lined the rolling hills and fields of tall grass. The sun shone bright in the clear skies. This was “rich people country”, as Hyeon used to say. Street rats like them didn’t live in big houses with lots of land and fresh air. He knew it must be nice, but not like this. Yunho drove up the country lane to a large gold and white gate. Golden serpents slithered down from the bars that resembled flower vines. They opened on their own, letting them drive onto a circular roundabout surrounding a floral bronze fountain.

“I ain’t ever seen a place like this…”

More snake motifs molded into the cream colored walls, with a long balcony above the tall doors. San stayed frozen in the car as he continued taking in the grandeur of the mansion. The people who lived here came from old money, like Siwon used to say. Their home didn’t appear brand new by any means, but it was not decrepit or unkempt. It amazed him. Not even Siwon could afford a place like this. His sleazy uptown buddies would never own a home like this.

“Behold, my lord. The Black Keep.”

“It’s…”

He saw gold roses winding through the rails of the balcony above, and more clinging to the columns holding it up. San felt tears in his eyes. He’d never seen a more beautiful place, and this guy was saying he’d be living here. Impossible. Not even in his wildest dreams could he make up a place like this.

“My lord?” Yunho opened his door without San realizing it. “We’re here.”

“Nah,” he shook his head, “This can’t be it.”

“You’re right. There’s more inside.”

San couldn’t picture the inside. Slowly, he stepped out and onto the gravel driveway. Yunho led him up stone steps to the front doors. More roses.

“They must like roses, huh?” he joked, trying to hide his anxiousness.

“They’re part of the family crest.”

“What’s a crest?”

“Like a little picture representing the family. Seonghwa will explain it should you want to know more.”

Yunho opened the doors and San stepped inside. He’d been right. He could not have dreamed up this place. High ceilings, paneled walls, expensive paintings and drapes with a grand staircase could not be of his own imagination. He gazed up to the ceiling to see a garden mural with a naked woman standing next to a tree holding an apple. He’d never seen a more beautiful painting.

“You’re here!”

No fantasy of his could create them either. At the top of the steps stood two men: one with thick black curls hanging to his chin, and the other with dark red hair slicked back from his face. They weren’t New York boys. They weren’t human. Their beauty surpassed any boy or girl he’d paid for back home.San saw the golden pins on their chests: a snake coiled around a singular rose. The dark-haired one wore a white shirt underneath an emerald velvet and satin vest with a nice tie. The red-head wore a similar fashion, except dark red rather than green. They were beautiful.

“You’re more beautiful than I thought you’d be,” the dark-haired brother grinned, eyeing him from top to bottom. “A bit grubby, but with a bath you’ll sparkle.”

“I don’t mind a bit of grubbiness,” said the redhead, also sizing him up. “I think it adds to his charm.”

The way they undressed him with their eyes didn’t bother him like it might have before. He couldn’t look away from either of them. He’d let them take a piece for free. The dark-haired one snorted with a smirk.

“Naughty,” he said. “I’m Seonghwa.”

“I’m Hongjoong,” said the other brother, still looking down at San's body. “He’s the oldest. I’m the middle child, and you’re the baby.”

“I ain’t a baby.”

“You mean ‘I’m not a baby’,” Seonghwa corrected him.

“But, I imagine you’ve done a lot of things kids your age shouldn’t have been doing,” Hongjoong winked, but stopped when Seonghwa backhanded his arm.

“He’s a child, Hongjoong.”

“You think the people up there care?” he retorted. “They force boys to dress up like girls and fuck them for spare change. They’re a bunch of animals. I bet he walked around with a painted face and gave blowjobs for two dollars-”

“-I ain’t a fucking whore,” San interrupted him harshly.

“It’s ‘I’m not a fucking’-”

“-Correct me again and I’m putting you on the floor,” San cut him off.

Seonghwa laughed rather than cower away. Hongjoong beamed, “Finally, somebody with some fire around here. Are you sure he’s our brother, Seonghwa?”

“Yes, I double checked. It seems he inherited Mother’s tough streak,” he said, amused. It was then that Seonghwa addressed the injuries left on San’s body. He walked up to him, and tried touching his chin before San flinched away. “Who did this to you?”

“A kid named Tiny.”

“What was he? Like four-feet but full of fire?”

“Six-feet with muscles that no kid should have. My boss made me fight him.”

San didn’t want to explain it to them. He still tried wrapping his head around the incident. He always believed Siwon cared about the kids who worked for him. Whenever one of them was mugged or picked up by the cops, Siwon sent men to take care of them. As he thought about it, he realized Siwon didn’t protect them. He protected the product the kid held for him. It saddened him.

“Don’t blame yourself,” Seonghwa said. “Men like him only care about themselves at the end of the day. If he’d treated you like scum, you wouldn’t have worked for him. I’m positive if you’d survived that fight, you’d end up doing it again with someone else.” He brushed his thumb on the split lip, “Nobody is going to hurt you here. Not even if you asked,” he glanced sideways at his brother. “You’re the son of a lord now. Demons around here would be marked for death if they put a finger on you.”

“We’d make sure of it,�� reassured Hongjoong.

Their words should comfort him, but the comfort never came. He’d met plenty of adults who made the same promise. Hyeon was supposed to protect him, but she never did. Heelchul was supposed to protect him, but he never did. Siwon, Shoiming, his friends all meant to protect him and they didn’t. He meant nothing to them. He meant nothing to anyone.

“Come on,” Hongjoong touched his shoulder, and frowned when San pulled away. “You’re peaky. Cook will make something for you. What do you like?”

Nobody did things for free. “Nah, I’m fine.”

“You’re not. Let’s go.”

Hongjoong and Seonghwa led him into a fancy dining room. On the table, servants put a large spread of food. Meat, cheese, fruits, and small cakes laid about the table. San’s stomach rumbled. The two of them sat on the other sides of the table, watching him closely. A woman in a maid uniform served him pieces of chicken, potatoes and vegetables. San stared at the plate. It beat the bits of bread and cheese he managed to steal off Hyeon. He picked up one drumstick and bit into it. The juicy meat broke on his teeth, tender and steaming hot. The first bite preceded the next greedy bites. It was so good that San thought he might cry again. Nabbing a bread roll, he wiped up gravy to stuff into his mouth.

“Easy there,” Seonghwa chuckled. “The food isn’t going anywhere.”

“Or are you used to food disappearing before you eat it?” Hongjoong asked with a knowing look. “You aren’t the only person here who’s used to going hungry.”

“How could you get hungry? You live here,” San asked, food in his mouth still.

“I didn’t always live here. Neither did Seonghwa.”

“Did you know who you were?”

“Yes.”

“Wait,” Seonghwa paused, “Did you not know you were a demon?”

“Not until I got here.”

“You mean to tell me that not only did your caregiver treat you poorly, but they never told you who you are?”

“Yes.”

Hongjoong laughed gleefully. “They’re going to get torn apart.”

“Rightfully so. You weren’t supposed to be here so early. You’re still a child.”

“I ain’t a kid.”

“Yes, you are,” said Seonghwa firmly. “Just because you’re not twelve doesn’t mean you’re not still a child.”

“Nobody treated me like one.”

“Because they didn’t care. I care. Hongjoong cares.”

He’d believe it when he saw it.

*****

Nothing beats coming home. Whether from a vacation or a night out, walking through the door into the comfort of familiarity relaxed the mind. San breathed much easier when he finally came home. He smiled seeing his bedroom, neat and tidy as he’d left it, and at the softness of his own bed. Seonghwa told Cook to make his favorite dinner for his homecoming; Hongjoong pulled out the “fancy shit” from their cellar. He appreciated his brothers’ attempts to make the event special, but the person who eclipsed them was you.

“No fair,” frowned Hongjoong when you walked into the dining room, “Nobody said to look hot. Seonghwa just told me to wear my ‘nice shirt’.”

San couldn’t take his eyes off you. In a velvet blue dress, he saw the tantalizing off-the-shoulders and the way the dress slimmed down to your shins. You’d put on the diamond necklace and earrings he’d bought you for your four month anniversary. He stared down your body as you walked to him and kissed his cheek. A single whiff of your expensive perfume had him capturing your lips with his.

“You look divine, Darling,” he grinned, taking in the shade of your lipstick and your upturned lashes. “And all for me?”

“All for you,” you agreed, kissing him once more before taking your seat at the table. “I wanted to look nice for you.”

“Do we really have to eat?” Hongjoong asked Seonghwa. He looked over to you, “She looks better than anything on this table.”

“Back off,” San joked, throwing a piece of his roll at him. “You sleep in your own bed tonight.”

“Oh come on,” he whined, “We missed you too Sannie. I think we should all celebrate you coming back home alive together.”

“We can do that another time,” he laughed at the weak attempt. He took your hand, noticing the ring on your finger. “I want my Darling all to myself tonight.”

“I’m not the one complaining,” you replied, smiling coyly at him.

“First course, please,” Seonghwa told one of the maids, who bowed and went to the kitchen. “This reminds me of his first homecoming.”

“His first homecoming?”

“He’d gone back home for a special assignment,” he said, buttering a bread roll. “On their 18th birthday, a demon is allowed one free kill. They get their choice of prisoner, living or dead, and can torment them however they see fit.”

“I tormented a guard from my reform school,” Hongjoong smirked over his wine. “I put a box of rats on his stomach and-”

“-San,” Seonghwa continued, “Was offered the pass too.”

“You killed someone?” you asked, surprised by it. “Who?”

“Lee Siwon.”

“Who’s that?”

“He was a gang boss who cheated, lied, stole, gambled, raped, and killed. He sold young boys to seedy old men. He forced kids to fight each other until they knocked out or died. He was your classic asshole criminal,” he picked at the soft inside of his roll, “My dad gave me the torment pass as a gift for my birthday. He said it was a right of passage for demons. You can really exercise your powers and spread sin everywhere at the same time. I could only think of one person when he asked me who I’d pick.”

“Was he still alive?”

“Surprisingly,” he nodded. “I figured he’d still be in the same city, extorting the same families and fucking the same kids. I got my pass and went home.”

“And he saw you?”

“No,” San grinned, recalling his one year back home, “And it drove him insane.”

“How?”

“General ghost stuff at first,” he shrugged. “I would open drawers and cabinets. I’d move stuff around his house and office. I’d make random noises in quiet rooms, open windows, and make radio static during his favorite songs.” He then laughed softly, “Every night at exactly 3:42am I’d turn on his water faucet. Not a steady stream, but enough that he’d hear it dropping. It drove him crazy. Then,” he ate the soft part of his bread, “I revved it up. I’d make him think people stole from him by taking money and hiding it around his businesses. I’d leave messages to make him think people in his gang were conspiring against him. Whenever he went to a drug deal, I’d either take money or damage the goods.” He laughed softly, “He finally spiraled when the market crashed, and he lost everything. Without me, he might’ve been able to survive with the money he’d kept hidden in one of his warehouses.”

“But you happened?”

“A huge fire started in the warehouse and destroyed property and the goods inside. By the time Siwon put the gun to his head, he’d completely lost his mind.”

San pictured his killer: Siwon, his hair streaked with gray, kneeling in his dusty apartment, sobbing as the agony took over. He remembered the man’s luxurious apartment having been stripped of anything valuable. Without a maid, and his wife having left him, Siwon surrounded himself with filth. Stuck in an apartment of trash, no money to his name with only the clothes on his back, Siwon had fallen. By the time San finished with him, nobody feared or respected Lee Siwon. He only revealed himself in those last few minutes, disguised as his fifteen-year-old self. Believing himself to be in a delusion of despair, Siwon didn’t question it when San made him see more children: the ones he forced into prostitution, the ones he put into fighting rings, and the ones he sacrificed on his path to fortune. The visions surrounded Siwon as he put the shotgun in his mouth.

“No talking gore at the table,” said Seonghwa as the first course was served.

“My favorite part was when he came home,” Hongjoong smirked, hardly noticing the soup bowl in front of him. “Seonghwa and I used to peep at him through the holes in his walls. We didn’t want to force him into anything, since we weren’t sure if he liked boys. Imagine our delight when Sannie walked into the lounge and,” he held back a laugh, “And told us if we wanted to see him naked, we could have just asked.”

“And then you guys fucked?”

“And then we fucked,” San confirmed, starting to eat the soup. A creamy chicken soup he’d fallen in love with when he first tried it. “What did you do while I was gone?” he then asked, wanting to change the subject.

“What happened between you and Siwon?”

“Huh?”

“You could have picked anyone, but you picked him.”

San’s eyes met Seonghwa’s from across the table. He preferred not to think about how he ended up in Hell in the first place.

“He killed me,” he said. “Well, indirectly. He put me to fight this kid that was twice my size and he beat me to death.”

“You've taken out guys bigger than you though. Jongho and Mingi have told me.”

“I was fifteen, skinny as a twig, and tired from running errands for him,” he answered. The image came to him as he spooned more soup. “If he and his friends wanted to watch a fight, they should have chosen grown men, not kids.”

“That's terrible,” you said. Like he knew you would, you picked up on his reluctance to continue. “I didn't do much.”

“Didn't do much?” Seonghwa said, astounded. “You learned how to make armor and weaponry with just your abilities.”

“You did?”

“It's not perfect. The bark is soft in some spots.”

“It can't be hard everywhere,” San said, “Otherwise you'll have trouble moving around when you're fighting. You can try filling up those weak spots with some kind of soft leather or mossy chainmail or whatever your flowery version would be.”

“What do you wear?”

“Breastplate, shoulder arm and shin guards.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s meant to be a costume as well as actual armor,” he explained, finishing off the small soup. “It’s in an old coliseum, so it has this Roman era theme to it. The armor protects most of the body, but leaves room for mobility. If every inch of me's covered in steel, I can’t move as quickly. The heavy armor would weigh me down because of my weight and-”

“-She’s been learning how to make living things with her plants too,” Seonghwa told him. “She’s managed to make flowers that sparkle like gems.”

“That’s great,” said San with a grin. “What have you made so far?”

You began telling him about what you called “gem stems': a beautiful range of different flowers that glittered and gleamed like gemstones. You’d managed to produce opal, rose quartz and amethyst flowers. Diamonds, rubies, and sapphires, you said, proved a bit more challenging for you, but you’d get it in the end. San found your creativity your most attractive trait. He saw the ensembles you wore, the way you redecorated your bedroom, and the plants you grew in your greenhouse. Everything you made turned out vibrant and beautiful. Seonghwa’s experiments might have had various shades of purple and red, but yours popped. He thought of the yellow-mouth flowers you’d made variations of in your greenhouse. Instead of only yellow, you had purple, pink, and orange-red ones. Octavius’s offspring came in hybrid forms now. Rather the purple hibiscus shapes, you’d merged them with sunflowers, roses, and tulips. Even the more dangerous flowers, who you called ‘Spike’ and ‘Rex’, bore interesting personalities and colors.

San wondered, as the conversation switched, about Francesca. He hoped Lucifer hadn’t harmed her. She’d already been in so much physical and emotional pain. Not only had she just given birth, but she’d lost her child. He’d thought someone might tell him what happened to her, but nobody breathed a word. The mother of Lucifer’s halfling children never seemed to matter to anyone. She was simply a vessel for the child who’d one day destroy the world.

He looked over at you, cutting into the steak dinner Cook prepared, and felt grateful. Demons could breed with other demons. Demons could not breed with humans, aside from Lucifer, the King of Demons. Demons and cambions did not typically reproduce because most demons considered cambions closer to humans. When he first entered you, he quickly thought about how you’d never have his children. He’d never met a woman he wanted to “mate” with until you. Knowing you better now, and knowing your status, it was possible. Not certain. It’d be difficult and there’d be many failed attempts, but not impossible.

But, what kind of father could he be if he’s unable to protect them? He’d been trusted to protect His Majesty’s child, and he could not do that. He’d failed in keeping the child safe. It’d likely been purified and turned into an angel by now. What if the same thing happened to you and he’d failed again? The image of you in Francesca’s place, laying flat on your back with blood pooling around your thighs and legs came to him. Some women died in childbirth. His mother claimed she’d nearly died giving birth to her last child, who’d come out deformed and sickly before passing a week later. He didn’t want that to happen to you. He didn’t know what cambion-demon pregnancies were like, but it could not be that different from normal ones.

“San?” your voice broke through his thoughts, and he saw you looking at him with concern. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Darling,” he said, pushing pictures of you lifeless and bloody from his mind.

You didn’t believe him. He saw your worry even as you went back to eating. San tried keeping up the charade by eating his own dinner. The meal ended with a variety of tarts San enjoyed. He devoured the peach tarts, while you’d dove into the strawberry tarts. Your appetite never ceased to amaze him. You told him in your past life, you’d waste time going on fad-diets to keep yourself from gaining more weight. Now, in a world where that doesn’t matter, you indulged more than you used to. Cook’s excellent skills made everything you tasted mouthwatering. San didn’t mind at all. He loved a woman who ate well; particularly the luscious curves that might result from proper appetite.

“I’m heading to bed,” you said once dinner ended, kissing each brother but lingering on his lips the longest. “This dress is nice, but not sleepwear. Right, San?”

“If you give me a few minutes,” he slid his hand down around your thighs to your ass, “I can help you take it off.”

“No, I want to keep it a surprise.”

You kissed him one more time before leaving the dining room. San downed the last of his wine before standing from the table. Seonghwa and Hongjoong instantly gravitated towards each other as they often did when alone. It reminded him of the first time he saw them together, and he shuddered.

“Looks like San is going to get a second dessert tonight,” smirked Hongjoong. Seonghwa cupped his jaw and kissed his cheek, “A nice, thick, yummy creampie.”

“Hush,” San laughed, cheeks turning hot. “I won’t be the only one tonight, it seems,” he said, nodding to Seonghwa. “You two have fun.”

“You too,” Hongjoong said, hazy from his tipsy state and Seonghwa’s full lips on his neck.

He walked out of the dining room to his bedroom. Sadly, he envisioned a child in the hallway. A beautiful girl with your eyes and hair, giggling and skipping joyfully. Perhaps a boy with his nose and jawline, playing with a wooden sword and pretending to cut down imaginary foes. San wanted to say you’d both be good parents, but could you really be? Andromeda was the kindest demon he’d ever met, who’d loved you with all her heart. You had some idea of how to be a loving mother, should you want to be one. But he didn’t grow up with such love and attention. Hyeon and Heechul despised him, and did nothing to hide it. He’d been another burden for them to bear. He never felt a mother’s warm hug and kiss or a father’s arm around his shoulders or patting his back. No fun holidays together. No cozy nights. Nobody comforted him when he cried or had a bad dream.

He didn’t have any of that until Seonghwa. Hongjoong might’ve been more of a sibling figure, but Seonghwa took on the parental role. He made sure San got a good education, that he ate well, bathed and tried making him the gentleman Hongjoong refused to be. He’d hated it at first because he saw it as a force to change. But, he soon learned Seonghwa didn’t want to change him, he wanted to help him. If San should imagine any father figure, it should be his oldest brother.

San walked into his apartment, not bothering to turn on the lights as he headed straight to bed. He pictured you, him and your child having come back from a family night out. You’d be in one of your lovely dresses, and he’d be wearing a suit and tie. Your kid would be put to bed first, wrapped up in soft pajamas and falling asleep as one of you read to him. Then, you’d both be alone. As he removed his jacket and unbuttoned his tie, the idea of domesticity between you both appeared to only sadden him. What if someone tried harming one of you, and he failed to protect you? What if he wasn’t quick enough? Strong enough? Brave enough? If he’d moved faster, he might have saved little Gisella. Lucifer would be delighted for another antichrist; lovely Francesca would be rocking the baby to sleep right now. But because of him and his hesitation, that had been shattered.

“This room hasn’t felt the same without you.”

San, unbuckling his pants, turned to see you leaning against the doorframe. You wore a lace night dress, a slit through the middle to reveal the matching underwear underneath. Your beauty usually distracts him from any thought in his mind, but not tonight. All he saw when he looked at you was Francesca and the baby he didn’t save.

“Has it?” he asked, knowing he had to say something to keep you from suspecting anything other than pure lust.

“It was empty,” you sauntered over to him, running your hands down his back and around his waist when he turned away. “And the bed was always cold.”

He felt your warm lips dot kisses on his shoulders, and your hands replaced his at his front. With deft hands, you undid his belt and fly, then lightly pulled at them until they pooled at his feet. In the mirror, he saw you clinging to him. He touched one of the hands on his chest, feeling the softness of your fingers and palms. Your fingers then intertwined. He couldn’t stand the thought of losing you.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, the temptress dropping in favor of the sweetness.

“Nothing,” he assured you.

“Liar,” you said, lips on his skin. “What happened up there? Who’s Gisella?”

“What?” He never recalled mentioning neither mother nor child to anyone.

“You said her name in your sleep,” you replied. You didn’t sound jealous. You sounded comforting, “Was that the baby’s name?”

“Yes,” he said, preferring not to lie to you.

“What happened to her?”

“She was taken. I…I didn’t get her back in time.”

“What do angels do with demon babies? They don’t…” you hesitated, then said, “They don’t kill them, do they?”

“No, they purify them,” he said. “They use their holy magic to sap out the demonic energy in their blood, and turn them into another angel. To Lucifer, that’s as good as death, but it’s more favorable than true death.” He stared at himself in the mirror. Even with all his muscles, speed and skill, he couldn’t protect the most important being in demonic history. “I’d nearly gotten her out. I was right there, YN. I was right at the exit into Hell, and they caught up to me. I…I tried fighting them off, and I did for a bit but then one of them caught me and she…” his chest tightened remembering the moment she slipped from his arms. “They caught her before I could. One of them stabbed me through my armor. I managed to stab my knife into their neck, but not in time to save her. They’d escaped through their own portal. I failed, YN. I was given one job. I had one job to do and I failed.”

“Just because you failed once doesn’t make you a failure. You did all you could-”

“-I have fought angels twice my size. I have fought against humans, demons, angels, archangels, cambions, and all the rest. I should have succeeded-”

“-You’re not always going to win,” you assured him, putting yourself between him and the mirror. “From what Seonghwa told me, the likelihood you would lose the kid was fifty-fifty. You might get the child away or you might not. It isn’t an indication of your skill or abilities.” You rubbed his arms comfortingly. While you have bite and bark, you also carried a gentleness he rarely experienced.

“I watched the birth happen,” he explained, “And the mother. She was so young, but carrying this big responsibility. I saw the pain in her eyes when she handed her baby over to me. She’d hoped I might be able to take her to safety, and I didn’t do that. The child she bore for weeks was gone, and she’d never see them again and it’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” you said bracingly. “She must’ve known what she was getting into when she agreed to get pregnant. Seonghwa told me all about it. He says every few years a woman is chosen to have his kid, and she has to consent before it happens. This woman knew there was a chance she’d lose them one way or another. Now, is it nice that it ended up happening? No. The kid getting taken is not your fault.”

“It is.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“It is.”

“No, it isn’t,” you said more firmly. “You did the best you could.”

“I should’ve done better.”

“Stop that,” you cut him off. “Everyone always says what a great swordsman you are, but you’re not going to win every battle-”

“-What if that happens to you?” he said. He cupped your cheeks and looked into your eyes. Their shape and color had been his last thought before he slipped into unconsciousness. “What if something happens to you and you die because I wasn’t fast enough to act? What if we have a kid and they get hurt or die because I didn’t try hard enough? YN, you are the one person who matters most to me. I don’t want to lose you-”

“-Is there something that makes you think you will?” you said, touching the hand on your cheek. “I do have a shadow demon for a bodyguard, and Jongho and Yeosang aren’t weaklings either. There’s also two other demons who’d protect me just as much as you would. What makes you think something might happen to me?”

“The fear of losing something that makes me happy,” he said. “When I was growing up, nice things always got taken away. When I made some money, the witch took it from me. If I got a bit of food, she’d snatch it and give me the smaller piece. If I showed any sign of happiness, it disappeared somehow. I love you, YN,” he said, “And I don’t want anyone to take you from me.”

“Nobody is going to,” you assured him, kissing him lightly. “I’m not exactly defenseless either, you know,” you gave a small grin.

You extended your hand, and several thin vines extended from your hands and around his wrist. San hissed when the vines tightened around his arm, squeezing him until his arm seized up. As that happened, you flicked your other hand and out shot a spiked, magenta dart that lodged itself to the wall. San watched the barb start spreading a sizzling, black goo that burned a hole right through the stone.

“Where did you learn that?” he asked, impressed by the snake vines slithering back into your palm and the acid dart dropping to the floor.

“My Aunt Rhea,” you shrugged. “She’s been giving me self-defense classes. She says ladies need to know how to protect themselves from man-things. Gaia is the one who teaches me how to create and grow the flowers I work with now.”

“Your mother?”

He noticed your sad expression, “How to live again.” You held the hand you’d cut the circulation from, rubbing it gently, “How to feel whole and happy.”

“Were you not before?”

“Not truly,” you said. “I filled my life with meaningless, temporary happiness. I thought having lots of nice things and sleeping with good looking people made life worth it. But, now I realize how empty I’d always felt then. I never felt complete,” you brushed yourself up against him, “Until I met you and your brothers. I love you more than anything else, and not just because the sex is amazing.” The both of you shared a laugh, “I don’t want to lose any of you. I might have owned nice things, but the people I chose to share myself with didn’t stay long. I don’t want you to get bored of me and throw me out or trade me in for something better-”

“-There is no one better,” he reassured you. “No one.”

He stepped out of his pants, kicking them away as he cupped your bottom. This prompted you to leap into his arms, wrapping yourself around him tightly. He turned to the bed, where he laid you down gently before landing on top of you. Once your bodies met, his lips opened yours in soft caresses. The intoxicating natural drug in your mouth mingled with his own, and that familiar burning desire ignited between you. Usually, this sensation took him down a rabbit hole of overwhelming lust. Tonight, it didn’t seem to do that. This time, he felt nothing but tenderness as he slowly grinded himself into you. He wanted you, but not in the sexual, primal way. San didn’t want to fuck you until the sun came up. He didn’t want to ‘take you’ like an animal in heat. He wished to melt with you. After witnessing so much violence and blood, he wished every vein and muscle in his body sunk inside yours to make you one body.

‘You are the sun and I am the moon. Without your light, I am nothing.”

A quote Seonghwa read in a poem came to him as his hands slipped off the straps of your dress. Seonghwa was better with words. He grew up with poetry and literature while San could never get a grasp on it. He often forgot names of poets or authors or playwrights, but he understood their words. He felt them. This quote bundled everything he felt for you into two sentences. Now that he had you, he would be nothing if you left him.

“San,” you breathed his name between kisses, “Don’t be rough tonight.”

“I don’t plan to be,” he replied, pulling down the top half of your dress. He peppered kisses on your chest as your breasts spilled out of the cups. A nipple in his mouth, he sucked and licked softly. “I want to feel every inch of you.”

He exhaled deeply when your hands slid through his short hair and down his neck to his spine. Your hips slowly rocked against him, your thin underwear dampening between you. He wouldn’t use toys this time. He won’t call you dirty names, choke and slap you. San treated you with all the gentleness of a man holding fine china in his hands. He delicately handled your breasts, giving them gentle squeezes and sucking them until you whimpered. He did not bite them like he sometimes did. San teasingly wagged his tongue over each just to hear your soft gasps. He knew how much you loved having your nipples teased. It’s why they paid so much attention to them during those first few moments in bed.

Your excitement grew when he kissed between them and down to your pubic bone. Kissing along your hips, his arms wrung around your thighs so his hands massaged the inner sides. The mere scent and taste of you aroused him. He started at your knees before moving closer to your center, where you hitched a breath when he reached the very innermost corner. He kissed back up to your waist and to your breasts again. On the base of your throat he asked:

“Would you want one?”

You did not answer right away. You paused, staring at the ceiling. Right when he thought he’d ruined everything, you answered him. “Maybe? I never thought about kids before. I like kids, and babies are cute, but I never considered it. I never met anyone I wanted a family with, since most of them already had families.” Hands in his hair, you looked down at him. “But then, I met you.”

This brought you to his lips, where he kissed you as passionately as before. You both broke apart as if you’d just come up from underwater. You wrapped your legs around him as you kissed his neck. “Give me one,” you whined in his ear, rocking against him again, “Fill me up with one. I’d have one with you any time.”

He strengthened his arousal. His cock hardening against your inner thigh, he groaned as he pushed to your hips. His hands on your breasts, San moaned when a hand slid between you to his groin. He didn’t stop you from pulling him from his boxers to lightly stroke it. The pleasure it brought felt like nothing before. It might as well be the first time you two have touched each other. While he suckled your nipples, you took your time fondling his boner. He could feel your fingertips sliding over the most sensitive parts of his cock; he groaned aroundyour hard nipples whenever you gently squeezed the bulbous head. San knew he was larger than either of his brothers. They liked mentioning it whenever they shared a bed. The only thing that mattered to him was how much you liked it. Pushing into your fist, he thought of all the times you reached out and groped him.

‘I don’t know why. I just love having it in me. It hits the spot each time and makes me cum so much.’

San hooked his hand to the side your panties and slipped himself under them. The both of you shared a moan once his thick head touched your soft lips. He didn’t enter right away. San lifted himself up a bit more to see the two of you nestled together inside your wet panties. Your hands gripped his forearms for stability as you slid yourself up and down his tip and shaft. The sweet nub at the very top, hard and uncovered from its hood, dragged across the slit of his head. He took hold of himself just to move side to side over the sweet spot. You pulled your panties aside to give him a better view of your soaked pussy opening up to his throbbing cock. It made for a beautiful sight. He saw the need for him in your eyes, and he’d usually withhold it. San and the others enjoyed teasing you into madness, but not now. He sunk himself inside the tight entrance that clung to him. It brought a twinge of relief before he pulled out to keep rubbing.

“Don’t stop,” you said, moving your legs further apart to give him more room. “That feels so good,” your eyes fell shut as he sunk back in and pulled out a second time.

“It’s you that feels so good,” he groaned, sliding in and out a few times before withdrawing. He saw how wet you became each time he did it. “It’s your pussy that drives me absolutely insane,” he huffed a laugh, then groaned when he saw you stretched around his shaft. “It’s so tight every time,” he said when he pushed further inside, rolling his hips to get deeper, “It makes me want to breed you whenever we fuck.”

“Then breed me,” you said, head tilting back into the bed and hands gripping his arms tightly. “Cum deep inside until I’m bursting with it.”

Anything for you. Laying on top of you, arms sliding underneath your shoulders to keep you close, San fully plunged inwards. Even though his body begged him to go faster, he continued gradually. His lips found yours, and you each moaned into each other’s mouths. He never felt so close to one person, not even his brothers. Not a single soul alive made him feel the way you do. It was unlike any romance or feeling he had for anyone before. San needed you the way plants need sunlight; the way fish need water and birds need the sky. After what he’s gone through these past few days, he cannot be without you anymore.

Even when you managed to roll him over, you remained connected by a few inches. Arms on either side of his head, you kept kissing as you brought your hips up and down on him. The faint smacking of hips on hips joined your moans and groans. He felt down your back to squeeze your supple cheeks. He didn’t let go, but he didn’t spread or spank them either. He simply held you as you went at your own pace.

“San,” you whispered his name in the midst of your whimpers, “Sannie…”

“YN…” he replied, merely wanting your name to roll off his tongue.

You are the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Just like when he first laid eyes on the Black Keep, it nearly brought him to tears at times. He pushed his hips to yours, feeling his orgasm slowly climbing to the top. Your taut walls grew tighter as his tip hit that squishy piece inside, driving you to rock back and forth. He put one hand to your chin, thumb resting on your lower lip. The feeling of your tongue and lips around the digit made his jaw drop. You put his other hand between you to your clit, where he slowly rubbed it from top to bottom. He made sure you felt the pad of his thumb moving around over the middle.

He came right when you did. Your body stiffening, mouth hung open with his thumb still inside, you kept him buried deep as you shuddered on top of him. He removed his thumb to hear your moans uninterrupted, causing his own to drive further. He felt the distinct hot sensation of his cum shooting inside while yours covered him entirely. You planted yourself on him as his head stayed firmly on your g-spot, bringing overwhelming pleasure before it turned to sensitivity.

San didn’t pull out right away. With a bit of maneuvering, the both of you stayed connected against the pillows. You hugged him close as he continued pushing inside you despite his sensitive cock. More deep, passionate kisses resulted in him remaining hard for another orgasm. San lifted your knees up, curling you upwards to shove in at a different angle. When he broke away to look down, he saw thick white fluids mixing each time he slid outwards. This encouraged him to keep his strokes short and deep so nothing spilled too far out. He can’t breed you if he lets it seep onto the bed. That’s awfully wasteful.

“Fill me up with more,” you said, hands tugging at his scalp. “Please, San. Please.”

“As much as I can give you, baby.”

He did. He came inside until he felt empty. You enjoyed this part particularly because his orgasms also brought out yours. By the time he felt spent, he still did not pull out. Holding you to his chest, he brought the covers over the both of you as you kissed wherever your lips could reach.

“I love you,” the words escaped you in a single breath, staying as close as you could under the covers.

“I love you,” he said back, giving light kisses to your chin and lips.

While it was highly unlikely it’d take root inside you, San liked the idea of it happening. He’d do anything for you regardless of whether it happened or not. You meant the world to him. Seeing you fall asleep in his arms, San pictured it and smiled softly before kissing you one more time.

***

A/N: Such a fluffy good time! I kind of wanted to dial back on the kink for this one, so I hoped you guys still enjoyed it <3 Like and reblog! It keeps posts alive!

#another fic i’m emotionally attached to #we love to see it #seriously though #this is so good guys #so so good #I LOVE ITTTTTTT

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theworld-accordingtocasey · 4 years ago

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Wahhhhhhh this was wonderful!! I’m pretty sure this is actually my favorite one of Slightlymore to date! (♡ﾉ ´ 〇｀)ﾉ

• Y/N-me as an emoji lol

• Jaemin trying his hardest to be patient with me when he realized im a big fraud™️

Side note: I liked the comparison to the ‘scared angry cat’ lol I was like ooooo I see the vision what you mean yes that is me here

• Brooding after realizing that my deliberate bitchiness has still failed to elicit a negative response from Jaemin. 🤔😤

• Decorating cookies together!! was so cute !!! And holding hands shyly!! Idk it was just pivotal esp because of the ment of even if it isn’t real, it was nice to see someone excited to be around me so that whole evening was !!! \(//∇//)\

• Jaemin sad,, Jaemin heartbreak,, Jaemin cry,, 🥺

(+ That whole part about it is still ok to say Hyuck hurt him even if he didn’t mean to but that still doesn’t mean it’s Jaemin’s fault or anything to do with him..I felt comfort in that. )

• My face the moment the lightning flashed and Jaemin visibly crossed over to the dark side before he fucked me within an inch of my life,,, realizing that perhaps I have,,, fucked up

• Y/n-me after The Dickdown™️ ; He fucked the attitude, out and some manners, in. LOL. Yes I am a good girl who knows how to act now, I’ve seen God and I will behave accordingly Suddenly my head is clear of all irrational reason to act up.

• Everything he said when he confessed;;; what man gives you 2 orgasms, carries you to the tub, gives you another orgasm and then professes his love for you? Pride Universe Jaemin, the only man ever

(Side note² When he talked me down from the anxiety attack I felt so...T____T💚)

++ Some stories don’t verbalize plainly that sometimes people just have different love languages. Like is saying please and thank you and I’m sorry important? Yes, to me, but there are some people who can’t just utter the damn words and just do loving gestures instead. And to an extent that can be okay too, if there’s sincerity behind the act. That doesn’t mean it’s excusing toxicity of course— obviously don’t just accept some silent jewelry where the issue isn’t even addressed let alone an apology, and call it a day if someone cheats on you lmao...but a batch of “I was unfairly grumpy yesterday when you were just trying to help and that I regret that but I’m a little emotionally constipated” cookies that were going to be left on a stove are lovely & can suffice sometimes. Conversely there are also “you just gave me back to back earth-shattering orgasms that I didn’t really deserve & even though you mentioned my need to do so, I still haven’t thanked you, but I do appreciate it tremendously so bless you, your dick, and your soul” blowjobs. It’s all relative. Some people would be sooo put off by getting their hand slapped away, but “No, Thank You” Jaemin understands that “I” am just not always the most touchy feely or verbally affectionate person, and doesn’t hold it against me or whine about it, because he knows I care from me showing it in other ways— my love language ( ◠‿◠ )

+++ It feels wrapped up well..I don’t remember how long ago but I mentioned that I enjoyed a story a lot (idr which one, I’d have to look it up to be sure) but that the ending felt a little too abrupt. I just remember that it was a while ago and that it wasn’t necessarily because of lack of closure for the characters per say, but just the way the ending sentences were, it felt rushed so what may have meant to be one paragraph got shortened into a sentence— well this story’s ending I feel was perfectly paced. I liked several of your last ones too, you’re totally getting better every time, but like I said I think this one is my new favorite. It feels like it ended juuuuuust right *´︶`*

• Lastly, I just wanted to say thanks:

for not making me feel alienated othered or caught off guard with any references to skin tone. I don’t think slightlymore ever has, I’m just mentioning it right now because it crossed my mind as I was typing this that at no point did I have to stop and roll my eyes or sigh over the color of anything being mentioned. On the one hand it should be considered the bare minimum to be race-friendly, but since things on this site don’t always go the way they “should”, this account is among the tumblr writers that i know I can count on to be inclusive ..... so thanks for always being a good noodle (੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ—✩ (´▽`ʃƪ)♡

no, thank you

part of the Pride Universe

jaemin x fem reader

others: haechan (mentioned in jaemin’s thoughts but not present in the real plot)

genre: smut with plot, roommates au, mentions of university (jaemin is a med student), angst, fluff, very +18 tho

warnings: very! rough! smut! (brat taming, oral, masturbation, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, denial, slight degradation, restriction, manhandling, bath tub is one of the locations), short mentions of mlm (jaemin x haechan fwb in the past), yn comes off rude in the beginning but it’s necessary for character development, yn has an anxiety attack, angsty

words: 11.3K

this is kinda good if I say so myself, yall have to read 👁️ if you don’t like mlm or memberxmember I promise it’s just a short bit of fluff/angst connecting it to Cute~ and that’s all lol, the plot is very jaeminxreader centered

Jaemin has been told that he can’t say no to people. Yes, he will come to the party. Yes, he can help with the moving out. Yes, he can help you with Anatomy. Yes, that kind of anatomy as well.

The only time Jaemin would say no is when people would ask if he’s busy or tired. No, I’m fine. No, everything is alright.

Keep reading

#Sam outsold?? sam outsold #jaemin #fanfic #nct dream #also the smut was 👌🏾#we’ve got another one for the books fellas #dj khaled voice: another one #that feeling when #your hoohah tingles but so does your heart :’)#total heart nut ya know?#racially inclusive #i just know someone at some point will be like ‘is that a typo’#no it’s not a typo #i am just kinda weird and I call kind humans good noodles #it just popped into my head one time and it stuck #idk man my brain just does it’s own thing & im just here for the ride #chronicling my literary adventures #gosh I feel like I’m totally rambling but it is a blog so I guess I should get all my feelings out and whatnot even if theres no one to read #it cus that’s what diaries and blogs are for?#i tried to use a read more cut but dumblr’s app is wonky so idk if it worked so if it didnt & my babbling clogs someones dash up im sorry :(#im reblogging to #share with the class #i am;;;;; known to overthink a story but its just cus i really like it ＿ﾉ乙(､ﾝ､)#I never meant to write this much oh my god why am I like this sksjdh #it was supposed to be memes and go #but here we are #ok i think i got it all out #i keep switching b/t talking to the author & talking to myself abt the author in this post its a mess im just too shy to look ppl in the avi #so to speak. i just say it to myself like the Only Child that i am.& can reread my thoughts later. nO ONE READ THIS ITS INCOHERENT #i just looked at the clock & i have been typing & untyping this post for 3 hours my hands hurt why am i like this

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yeagersslvt · 3 years ago

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Keep It Between Us

Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Female Reader X Jean Kirstein

Genre: Idol AU, Smut, Fluff, Humor

Summary: Eren and Jean are one of the hottest male idols working in the industry right now, but honestly? You’re tired of their antics. You’ve been working as their personal assistant for three months and your patience is about to snap. One night, with cocky smirks and leering eyes, they invite you over for a drink. You smile. It’s time for your revenge.

Warnings: threesome, rough and unprotected sex, food play, daddy kink, degradation kink, humiliation, cream pie, slapping, spanking, spitting, choking, use of a leash, oral sex (blow jobs and cunnilingus), fingering, hand job, praising, hard dom Eren, switch reader (but more of a dom) and sub Jean with EreJean being chaotic bisexuals.

Word Count: 20K+ (I'm so sorry, I need to include plot to make their threesome believable)

AN: Dedicating this fic to my most favorite person in the world, Sandra (@smfics), who's having her birthday today! 🎉🎉🎉This is part of her Reader's in Charge collab too. Thank you for giving me the opportunity, babe! I had so much fun writing this one, this is probably my filthiest fic so far lmao. Idol Ren will also show up in her fic called A Little Too Personal so if you want to see some seggsy times between him and CEO Ren, don't miss that one too!

“You want us to do what?”

“Suck each other off.”

It’s their first time witnessing a filthy smirk written on your face. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, you’re dressed in nothing but your lacy lingerie, your breasts fully exposed. You have your legs crossed with your palms settled on the sheets, leaning back with your chin tilted up in vanity. You’re exuding confidence; a thick layer of enticement fogging your enchanting eyes.

Eren Jaeger and Jean Kirstein, two talented idols from an infamous four-member group named AXIS, eye you up and down, almost gawking at the sight. A hungry look flits through their faces, wanting nothing more but to wipe that conceited smile off your lips. They’re so used to being wanted, of having their names screamed by their fans, that they are left stupefied when the girl they want seems to stay unfazed under their lustful stare.

You meet the intensity of their gazes with your mischievous one, loving the way they’re dancing in the palm of your hand. You’re done acting as their silly little doll. The strings have been cut off and now it’s time for you to become their puppeteer.

“I don’t know if you’ve ever been in a threesome,” Jean says, “But this is not how it works, Sweetheart.” His usual cocky smirk remains intact but with the plans you have in mind, it won’t stay there for long.

“It’s either his cock in your mouth and my cock in your cunt,” Eren joins in. Unlike Jean, his smirk is impish. Boyish. Bratty. “Or the other way around.”

“Oh, stop being so predictable.” You roll your eyes, but it’s playful. Combined with your little crooked grin? Seductive. “Let’s have fun.”

“If by fun, you mean having this asshole’s cock in my mouth,” Jean snorts. “Then, no thanks.”

Eren chortles cynically. “Yeah, it wouldn’t fit anyway.”

“What did you say, Jaeger?”

“I’m saying my cock is bigger than your ego and that’s saying something. What, you got a problem with that, Horseface?”

“You fucking—” Jean stops short when he notices you’re shifting in your seat.

Both men’s attention instantly lands on the way you’re spreading your legs, giving them enough glimpse of your bright red embroidered thong panty. Your lingerie looks amazing on you, the color complimenting your skin so much, it makes their throbbing lengths strain against their jeans. It doesn’t leave much room for their imagination to wander, but that’s exactly what they want to see. They don’t want to just imagine holding you. They want to fuck your brains out.

“When I said fun,” you coo, running your tongue across your lower lip, making it glisten beautifully under the dim, yellowish light of their hotel room. “I meant…” Tarrying, you slide your fingers down your stomach. Making their way to settle between your thighs, you rub your clothed heat, letting out a low, “Mmm,” as you keep your gazes locked. “Having you both fuck me at the same time.” You let your jaw drop slightly, enough to let them take a peek at your tongue. “And I wasn’t talking about having you in my mouth.”

You, right now, are sexier than any girl—than any porn they’ve ever seen. Eren, especially, after going through weeks of wanting to know how fucking sweet you would taste on his tongue, is about to lose it.

There are two seconds of silence where you can practically hear their thoughts running a thousand miles per hour, then—

“Wait!” Jean’s face nearly bursts into flames when his bandmate turns to face him, hasty hands working on his belt. “No—stop—” Eren harshly yanks his belt out of his loops, tossing it to the floor before his fingers work on Jean’s zipper. “Eren—What the fuck are you doing?!”

The brunette grabs a fistful of the other man’s shirt, yanking him down by the collar. “Improvising,” Eren states, a moment before their mouths collide.

But let’s stop there for a second.

Now, you must be wondering, how the hell did I get myself into this situation? How did you manage to get the two hottest idols working in the industry wrapped around your fingers? How did you get the world’s two straightest men to toss their sexuality aside under your command?

Let’s go back in time, shall we?

***

Three months ago, you were just a normal college student—just as broke, just as tired, just as single. And frustrated. In more ways than one—no, perhaps even in every way. You were doing okay with your grades but other than that? You were screwed. You barely had any friends, you had family issues just like any other teen out there, and what’s worse was that you needed money to pay for your college tuition fee, otherwise you couldn’t graduate. And you didn’t just spend three years in that shithole just to not graduate in the end.

So, obviously, you started looking for a job. You were ready to take a late-night shift at a local diner when your phone rang. It was truly a blessing, you thought, when your aunt’s name showed up on the screen. “Are you free this summer?” She queried with nothing but weariness in her voice. You felt sorry, sure, but her being that exhausted only meant one thing: money. “I could really use your help.”

Your aunt was a manager, hired by CMN Entertainment. What did she manage? Idols.

Ever since three years ago, she had been working together with CMN’s latest rising star—a talented group called AXIS. You’d seen them enough on TV, though you wouldn’t call yourself a fan, at least not a hardcore one. You felt like it was too old for you to drool over cute boys dancing to electronic pop music. And their merchandises were also expensive as fuck. You weren’t ready to live the hard life of being a fangirl.

“My body literally can’t take it anymore,” she sighed. “I got offers from a lot of people, begging the boys to do interviews with them, or perform on their shows, or drink some questionable sodas for these damn summer commercials. I need to deal with all the meetings. Not to mention I have to arrange their schedules too. Every member has their own gigs now and I am losing my mind.”

You smiled, seemingly sweet but utterly wicked. “And how may I help you?”

“Can you be my assistant? I need you to take care of the boys, just for three months. Once the summer ends, they won’t be as busy as they are now so you can leave if you want to. It’s really simple. You just have to get their coffees, order food for them, deliver their costumes, and drive them places. And just, you know, do what they ask you to do.”

Now, that didn’t sound so bad at all, did it? The payment was good, and you’d get to return to your dorm by the end of summer. Three months with four cute boys who wore sexy outfits on the stage. This should be fun, you giggled, almost evilly in your head. They seemed so kind and adorable when you saw them on TV, always smiling during their concerts, treating their fans like they were friends during fan meetings. Out of all the boy bands that were working in the industry right now, AXIS was one of the very few groups that seemed genuinely humble.

So when you strolled inside the building of CMN Entertainment, you had the biggest smile plastered on your face. You were so excited to begin your friendship with four young celebrities whose popularity was escalating quickly not just within the country, but overseas too. You felt proud and lucky, but mostly proud. By the end of this job, you would totally brag about it non-stop to your friends. Hell, you’d probably even gloat about it to the next stranger you met on the street. “Guess who’s the lucky bitch who gets to see AXIS’ bare faces in the morning? Me.” It may sound a bit creepy, but it would be a great conversation starter, nonetheless.

Within a matter of three days, however, you realized that fun was not the right term. Torture was more like it.

Eren Jaeger, Jean Kirstein, Armin Arlert, Marco Bodt. You weren’t sure why the hell did they choose the word AXIS to be their group name, but it was clearly not an acronym for their names. They were the boys you had to assist for about ninety days from now. But you weren’t their assistant. You were their fucking slave.

Now, to be fair, Armin and Marco—these two were truly sweethearts. They greeted you with a smile the second you were introduced to them by your aunt—who left hurriedly to take a call after saying literally three lines. When you offered Armin your hand, he took it and reciprocated with the warmest, teddy bear hug you had ever received from a boy. Marco had the cutest freckles on his face, and he laughed wholeheartedly when you told him that you thought those were just make-up to make him seem unique. “You’re brutally honest, aren’t you?” he spoke fondly. He bent his head down so you could take a closer look, even let you poke his cheek if you wanted to.

They whipped out their phones, typing down your numbers in their emergency contact list. You saw Armin adding a smiley emoji after your name and when he saw you noticing, he blushed a little. “I do that to all my friends’ names,” he explained diffidently. “It makes me feel less awkward whenever I have to call them. Is it weird?”

You mirrored his smile. “I do the same thing. But instead of adding emojis, I just create nicknames for them.”

“Oh, then create one for me!” His cerulean eyes lit up beautifully. You were the same age as the boys, but Armin seemed five years younger.

Marco slung his arm around his shoulders, chiming in, “Me too, me too.”

“Sure.” You beamed. “Then Armin will be Bambi, ‘cause you’re literally a sweet, gentle baby deer in human form, I won’t even argue about it. And you,” you gestured toward the other boy, “You will be Freckles.”

Marco scrunched his nose cutely. “Why do I always get the most obvious, boring nickname out there?”

“Fine, then you’ll be Mini Santa.”

Not soon after, you proceeded to do your first job: bring them their coffees. When you asked about their orders, Armin and Marco simply answered with, “Iced Americano, please?” and “A mochaccino would be great, thank you.” They made their requests politely with a smile, genuinely thanking you for the inconvenience. You felt warmth spreading in your chest. They were angels.

But the other two boys. Now, they were the devils. No, they are the most atrocious, vile, infuriating little cacodemons who, somehow, managed to crawl their ways up from the deepest pit of hell. Eren Jaeger and Jean Kirstein. Honest to God, there had been no men—or women—in your life that had ever tested your patience this much over the course of thirty minutes.

Their looks were out-worldly, that was the initial thought that entered your mind when you saw them in person for the first time. You had always thought that they were handsome, but when you saw them in real life, they were ethereal. Eren had the greenest, prettiest eyes you had ever seen in a man. Not that you had seen a lot of men, but your point still stood. His dark brown hair looked so soft—probably softer than a baby’s ass, for the lack of a better metaphor—and his eyelashes were long, beautifully so. If it wasn’t because of his strong, masculine jawlines, his high cheekbones, and obviously, the thing hanging between his legs, he could’ve passed as a woman. He could’ve passed as a woman and could be prettier than you.

You remembered that his hair used to be long enough to cascade down to his shoulders, but his hair stylist recently did something new. They have trimmed his strands just a little so that the ends of his locks fall just a couple of inches below his jawlines. He still wore it in a bun, every now and then, as it was his iconic look. People even started calling it “The Jaeger'' when they went to the barbershop, hoping to copy his style but ended up looking like acorns in the end. None of them could sport a bun as hot as he did.

He was the Visual of The Group, their fans called him as if that was a real position. He was AXIS' lead dancer, talented enough for his skills to be praised by popular choreographers around the world. The company made him the center of attention, always dressing him in the sexiest, questionable outfits on stage—sometimes, even more revealing than what Beyonce would wear. One time, he wore a crop top with a leash wrapped around his neck and silver chains circling his waist and he broke the internet. His name trended on Twitter for three consecutive days with hundreds of thirst tweets popping up every hour. Now, with the new haircut and the simple, black hoodie he was wearing, he seemed more boyish than sexy, which was a nice, fresh change. There was no way you’d think someone who looked as sweet as Eren Jaeger would turn out to be incarnate of Lucifer himself.

Let’s move on to the other fiend: Jean Kirstein. He was tall. You’d never seen an asshole this gigantic in your twenty-one years of living. He was stunning, all of them were, but Jean reeked with so much masculinity, he was basically a walking version of Kouros by Yves Saint Laurent—the manliest fragrance out there, no doubt. He had a mullet, which you thought was a fashion disaster at first but this man… Damn. He rocked that hairstyle like Elvis Presley had rocked his. You could tell that he could grow a beard if he wanted to, but he shaved his stubbles every day to make him look younger on the screen (because if he had sported a beard, he'd probably look like Armin's dad and no one wanted to be mistaken dancing to sexy routines on the stage with their son).

Armin and Marco were the lead and main vocals of the group, while Jean was their leader. He was the one in charge during interviews and press conferences, but that was not all. What he was truly in charge of was being sexy. It felt dumb if you said it out loud as there was no such position, but he was. The company designed him to be that way. Eren seduced his audience with his sexy expressions—or his dangerous hip thrusts—on the stage, but he had never taken his shirt off for fanservice (as he was already barely wearing any, to begin with, but that was not the point). The point was, Jean did that every fucking time. If he was wearing a button-up shirt, he would rip it open by the end of the song. If he was wearing a normal shirt, he would still rip it open by the end of the song—maybe even from the start if he was having a good day. You read once on the internet that a thirteen-year-old girl brought her mother to see their concert, and she was dragged home by her ear as soon as Jean turned the show into his personal strip club. You weren’t even remotely surprised. You just hoped you were there to see it live.

Eren and Jean didn’t even bother to remember your name. When you introduced yourself, the brunette yawned, slouching on his swivel chair. Jean, who sat on his opposite, was busy smirking at his phone, probably looking at the nudes his groupies sent him. But it was okay. You didn’t think too much about it. You were shocked, sure, especially after the cordial treatment you had received from Armin and Marco, but you wouldn't hold a grudge against them.

“I’m heading to the coffee shop, do you guys need anything?” You asked them with a smile. Back then on your first day, you hadn’t known any better. You thought they were going to give their answers as simple as Armin and Marco did. So when Eren sank further into his chair, crossed his legs, and propped his cheek on his knuckles as he stared flatly at you, you didn’t think his answer would be, “An iced Ristretto, ten shot, venti, with breve, five pump vanilla, seven pump caramel, four Splenda, and poured, not shaken.”

You blinked your eyes, staring dumbly. “Sorry, what?”

He sighed, looking like giving out his order was the most exhausting job a man had ever had to do. “If you still need me to repeat this one more time, I’m gonna have to tell the manager to get me another assistant because you suck at your job.”

You staggered, swallowing thickly. “I’m sorry.”

“Eren,” Armin scolded him. You noticed that whenever Armin was upset, he looked like an angry toy poodle. “That’s not nice.” Eren returned his chastise with a groan, while the blonde-haired boy sent you an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Eren has severe mood swings in the morning. You’ll get used to it, I hope?”

“Or you can just quit,” Jean offered, giving you a once-over. “I mean, you’re pretty, but so do hundreds of other girls who would die to get this job. If you can’t even get our coffees right, then maybe you should walk away.” Without giving you a chance to debate his words, he rose from his chair. He walked closer, towering above you as he stood before you. Fuck, you thought, he does smell like Kouros by Yves Saint Laurent. Only ten times better. He trapped your chin between his thumb and index finger, angling your face upward as he raked his eyes over your features. “Unless,” he murmured, his lips curving up in a waggish grin, his eyes ricocheting to your lips. “There’s something else you’re good at?”

His breath fanned your skin, and you knew just how many of your friends would turn to puddles if they were in your shoes. But you were not one of them. No matter how attractive he was, or how good he smelled (like camphorous eucalyptus and tart bergamot, spreading out in cool waves on the skin, goddamn) you would never allow a man to talk to you like that.

You swatted his hand away, not too harshly—‘cause, unfortunately, your life literally depended on this job—but enough to leave him dumbfounded. “I’ll get them right,” you said through gritted teeth. “May I have your order, Mr. Kirstein?”

Jean loved it. He loved the fire in you. “Iced venti caramel macchiato,” he said, and you hurriedly rummaged through your bag, searching for your phone to type down his order. “Fifteen pumps of vanilla syrup, made with heavy whipping cream, barely any ice, one shot, add whip, and extra caramel drizzle.”

Your thumbs were running like wildfire on the screen, trying to keep up with him. There must have been something you missed but you knew if you asked him to reiterate his order, he would mock you non-stop about it. So, you didn’t.

You turned your head to Eren. “And you, Mr. Jaeger?”

Eren’s eyes were half-lidded, filled with boredom. “Venti vanilla latte, nonfat milk—”

“Wait, that doesn’t sound like what you ordered before. I thought you were ordering Ri… stretto…” Your voice faltered, noticing that he was this close at snapping at you again. “Right, sorry. It’s your drink, you can order whatever you want to—anyway, what was it again?”

You returned twenty-six minutes later carrying four tall cups of coffee in one hand, and a bag of sandwiches and blueberry muffins in the other. They didn’t ask for the food but you thought their show was going to start in an hour and you weren’t sure if they had breakfast yet (yes, despite your cheeky attitude, you did have a soft heart for these boys Armin and Marco). You hurriedly marched back into their waiting room, a thin layer of sweat coating your temple. “Okay, so one mochaccino for Bambi.” You handed Armin his cup with a smile, still somewhat breathless after all the running you did. “One iced americano for Freckles.”

“I thought it was Mini Santa.”

“Right. Mini Santa. Sorry.” You grinned, giving him his drink. Marco and Armin exchanged silent messages as they locked their stares, making you frown. “W-what is it? Did I do something wrong?”

They switched their drinks. “Nothing,” they both said and you smacked yourself on the forehead.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” you grimaced. “You ordered the simplest thing and I still mixed up your names.”

But these boys just simply laughed it off. “Please, it’s just coffee,” Armin tittered, “And believe me, a lot of people got it wrong too. I think it’s partially because I look like this that they’d expect me to favor something sweeter.”

“And I look mature enough to not have a sweet tooth, but I do.” Marco patted your head like how a big brother would do. “Take it easy, shorty. No need to apologize.”

“Okay,” you breathed out in relief. “I swear, I’ll be better next time.” You focused back on the last two drinks. “All right. Venti vanilla latte, nonfat milk, whipped cream, seven Splendas; six mixed in, one sprinkled on top of the whipped cream—” You stopped to take a breath. “—to make it crunchy.” Just reading his order out loud almost left you wheezing. You didn’t want to remember the funny look the barista gave you when you described it to them. “For Mr. Eren Jaeger.” You offered him his cup with two hands, dramatically bowing your head as low as possible as you did it. “Here you go, My Lord.”

Armin giggled at your antic but Eren took his drink without a word, and unlike Marco who immediately took a sip of his coffee to show his gratitude, Eren left it abandoned on his desk, simply returning to his phone, yawning again.

You let out a harsh breath, reminding yourself to be patient. You read Jean’s order next, but before you could finish, you found him snickering at you. You stopped, almost throwing ice daggers at him with your eyes if you hadn't been careful. “Is there something funny, Mr. Kirstein?”

Jean stood up from the couch, placing his phone in the back pocket of his jeans as he made his way toward the door. When he walked past you, he laid a hand on your head, “I don’t drink coffee, Sweetheart. Might want to do some research before you take the job.” And he left.

You thought the Lord was testing you, but He hadn’t even begun.

The first month was absolute torment. You thought it was because you were still adjusting to your new work environment and their personalities, but no, you were certain that it was because Eren and Jean did not understand the difference between your office hours and your leave-me-the-fuck-alone time. Your working hours were inconsistent, fluctuating based on their schedule and that was okay as you had been informed from the start. But you were paid to assist them for only forty hours a week. And with the way it was going, that was not the case.

It was two in the fucking morning when your phone vibrated under your pillow. With bleary eyes and the biggest scowl your face had ever formed in your life, you checked on your screen. Devil Incarnate #2 was calling you.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” Jean’s gravelly voice echoed from the other line. He still hadn’t remembered your name, alternating to calling you with endearing terms—like Sweetheart or Darling—but always in a slightly degrading way. Sometimes, like right now, he did it flirtatiously, which felt kind of icky to you. But most of the time, he was just downright irritating. “I’m glad you picked up. Were you sleeping?”

“Oh, no, I was chatting with your mom. She’s awfully close with Eren, don’t you think? Might be a little too close, if you know what I mean.”

The smirk in his voice vanished almost instantly. “That’s not funny.”

“Please tell me this is not a booty call. I don't plan on castrating someone this early in the morning."

He chuckled. “There’s no need for that, I already have one sucking on my dick right now. Literally.” You could hear him turning away slightly from the phone, praising, “Yes, darling, you’re doing such a great job. Close your mouth around the tip for Daddy? Mmm, yeah, just like that.” He returned to his phone. “You’re still there?”

“Only physically.” If you weren’t too tired, you would’ve made a thorough plan on how to dump his dead body in the sewer. “Why are you calling again?”

“I need you to run to the store and grab me some condoms.”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me, Jean.”

“Is that the way to speak to your employer?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You gotta be fucking kidding me, Mr. Kirstein.”

“Yeah, ah, that’s more like it,” he moaned. You frowned, vomit rising to your throat when Jean quickly added, “I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Oh, thank God. Never been so scared in my life before.”

“I don’t even know if you’re amusing or annoying.”

“Well, I do have my charm.”

You could imagine him rolling his eyes. “Anyway, I’m gonna need two condoms. No, three. Actually, four, you can’t be too careful. You know what, why don’t you just grab me a dozen of those. Oh, also, try different flavors too. They dig it.”

“They?”

“Yeah, I got another one coming over in about ten min—Hey, there you are! You’re early. Wait, baby girl, Daddy’s on the phone. Why don’t you get yourself all ready and wet for me, yeah?” The seduction and thrill in his voice returned to his previous grumble when he spoke to you. “You’re still there?”

“Honestly, I don’t know if I am. Feel like my soul just left my body.”

“You can do that after you get my condoms. You know which one to buy, right?”

“Glyde Slimfit? Tiny condom for tiny dick?”

“For your boyfriend, maybe,” he sneered. “No, darling. Durex XXL.”

“Bullshit.” You snorted loudly. “What are you, a horse? There’s no way you have a cock that huge.”

“Would you like to see for yourself, Sweetheart?”

“Jesus—” You ended the call, so tempted at throwing your phone against the wall but you remembered that you were broke. The digital clock on your nightstand showed it was 02.24 am, and the building they were staying in was fifteen minutes drive away from your apartment, but that was not the problem. How did the line, “And just, you know, do what they ask you to do,” turn into you, a single girl who hadn’t had sex in such a long time, running to Seven Eleven to buy a dozen of extra-large condoms at two in the morning?

So that was Devil Incarnate number 2. Let’s go to Devil Incarnate number 1.

Within the first week of working, you soon realized that Eren liked to call you with the most random nicknames he could come up with, and it’d always differ from time to time. If he had something sweet during breakfast, he’d call you Pancake or Muffin. If he had seen a bird flying near his window that day, he’d call you Tweety. He’d called you Fluffy during your fifth day of work, and you thought he was referring to your hair—you did style it that way that day. But when you asked him about it, he just scoffed and said, “No. I just thought you look like my dog. Her name’s Fluffy.”

“Oh, so you own a Shih Tzu?”

“No. A pug.”

Armin wasn’t kidding when he told you Eren had severe mood swings. He could be cold and bitter in the morning, and all bright and smiley by lunch. But happy Eren did not always mean pleasant-to-be-around Eren, you learned. When he was stressed out, he'd always turn into his broody-vampire mode, just basically seething and glaring at everyone around him. You literally could just breathe a little louder than usual and he would tell you to shut the fuck up, people in China could hear you. But as Armin said, you had to get used to it and you did. You had the patience of a saint, it turned out. What you couldn’t get used to was when he was happy.

Because happy Eren meant flirty Eren and flirty Eren meant danger.

It wasn’t like you were attracted to bad boys—or what’s the term people use these days? Fuck boys? Anyway, no, you were twenty-one years old. You were a mature woman. You weren’t looking for a boyfriend; you wanted to find someone you could settle down with. But when Eren showed up out of nowhere, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and landing his chin on your shoulder as he whispered, “Hey, Muffin,” right next to your fucking ear, what the hell were you supposed to do?

Not blushing, that was for sure. “Please don’t touch me, ” you uttered, keeping your voice—and your everything else—composed.

This wasn’t the first time he flirted with you but it was the first time he touched you. A month had passed and he had never even shaken your hand once—not even during your first meeting. And then here he was, embracing you from behind like a boyfriend you hadn’t had for months. You couldn’t deny the way your heart was racing, but at least you kept your face controlled.

“Hmm…” He purred. His husky voice was so pleasing to hear, not that you would admit it out loud. “Why not?”

“Because we’re in public and this is highly inappropriate.” Saying the word public might be an exaggeration as there were only two of you in the dressing room at the moment. The door was open, though, so if anyone was passing the hallway, they would notice. The other boys had left to wait near the backstage, doing a final check on their microphones before the show started.

“So, you’re saying it’s okay to do this,” he hugged you just a little bit tighter. “If we were alone?”

“Keep your hands off me or I swear to God, I’ll punch your pretty face.”

“Ah, so you think I’m pretty. Why am I not surprised?”

You really did throw a punch. He was just fast enough to dodge it. Eren giggled, breaking away from you. At this point, he was well-adjusted to the snarkiness in your attitude, or your little—but deadly—punches. He moved to lean his back against the wall, observing you with natural temptation in his eyes, hands buried in the pocket of his pants. He was dressed handsomely in his stage outfit. They were doing a James Bond concept for their new comeback single, so he no longer had to wear revealing clothes on the stage at least for a month from now. But somehow, the sight of him wearing a three-piece black suit and matching leather gloves, made you feel even more… arou—

Okay, let’s not go there, you mentally slapped yourself. “Why aren’t you backstage?”

“I was but then I noticed you weren’t there. So, I came here to check on you.” He tilted up his chin, smirking. “Wouldn’t want my favorite assistant to get hurt. Or seduced by another man.”

“Hmm, how very chivalrous of you,” you muttered blankly, keeping yourself busy with your phone. It wasn't just a way to avoid him, though. You had to learn their schedules for the rest of the week to avoid making mistakes. “Well, Mr. Jaeger, I can assure you that no one in this building would find me attractive so you can run along and return to the stage now. You need to perform in twenty minutes.” You sighed wearily when you realized that you hadn’t picked up their outfits for tomorrow’s photoshoot. “I need to make a call.” You made your way to the door, about to exit the room when Eren clamped his fingers around your wrist, stopping you.

“I think you’re wrong,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“When you said no man would find you attractive, I think you’re wrong.” His lips twitched up in a delicate smile, and he seemed so innocent, like a little boy facing his first crush. “I think you’re smart. You’re adorably annoying and annoyingly adorable at the same time.” When he chuckled, it sounded sheepish. His hand slid down from your wrist to your fingers, gently playing with them with his own. He watched the way they brushed, his face was unguarded. “And I think you’re beautiful.” He looked up at you from behind his bangs. “Especially your eyes, they’re… They’re breathtaking.”

You swallowed. Okay, what the fuck is going on? “That is the most cliche pick-up line I’ve ever heard.”

He tipped his head cutely to the side. “I was just being honest, though?”

Your eyes glanced briefly at the part where your skin touched his. You had become way more conscious of it than you were supposed to. You exhaled heavily. “What did I say about keeping your hands away from me?”

“Listen, I want to apologize,” he voiced, sounding unfamiliarly solemn. “For the way I’ve been behaving these last few weeks. I’ve been… I haven’t been in a very good mood lately.”

“Yeah.” You noticed how he still hadn’t let you go, but you let him be. “You've got the emotional range of a pregnant woman. No offense to any preggos out there.”

He laughed quietly, slowly releasing his hold from you. He seemed… pensive. Uncertain. Distraught. “Is something the matter?” You asked, unconsciously rubbing your skin right at the part where he touched you before.

Eren didn’t reply right away, contemplating his answers. “Do you want to, um…” He rubbed his nape, not meeting your gaze. “I don’t know, like, go somewhere together tonight? We can go get some coffee or something.”

“And I have to stand right next to you as you make the world’s most vexing order at Starbucks? No, thanks.”

“Hey, come on.” He pouted, batting his eyelashes at you. Eren took a step forward and you moved back in response, stopping only when you had your backside pressed against the wall. “I’m trying to make it up to you here,” he said, taking another stride until his body was standing only an arms reach away from you. “Can you at least give me a chance?” He was going with that so-called puppy look. You knew its power and you would not let yourself succumb to it.

You averted your gaze. “Actually, now that I thought about it,” you replied, “It would’ve been less embarrassing to stand next to you as you tell them your order compared to having me tell them your order.”

He grinned, his crooked teeth showing. “So, is that a yes?”

“No.” You snorted, but who were you kidding? “I mean, yes. Whatever. I’ll swing by your building at seven. I have to give you your outfits for tomorrow anyway.”

“Perfect.” He leaned in and pecked your cheek before you could even register his actions. “I’ll see you at seven, Muffin.”

When he left, taking hasty steps as he headed toward backstage, you found yourself staring at his back. He tossed you a look over his shoulder, grinning when he realized you were staring and you felt your cheeks burn.

Fuck.

***

Okay, so remember when Eren asked you to “get some coffees” to “make it up to you” six hours ago? That was bullshit.

“I think we’re cool,” he told you, sitting right next to you in the car, checking on his surroundings using the rearview mirror. He wore his hair down, wearing all black from head to toe in an attempt to not stick out like a sore thumb. “Seems like we’re not being followed.”

You were perched on your driver’s seat, hands on the steering wheel, feeling absolutely humiliated. “Jaeger.”

“Yeah, Bunny?”

“Bunny?”

“What, it’s the year of the rabbit.”

You punched him hard on the shoulder. Once, twice, three times until he groaned and caught your fist with one hand. “Hey, easy on the hands there. I’m not a punching bag!”

“You’re a trash bag, that’s what you are!” You beat him again with your other hand, right on his chest. “I can’t believe you tricked me into driving you to a bar so you can just hook up with some chick!”

“Bunny,” he chortled, seemingly having the time of his life, that asshole. “You didn’t think I was actually asking you on a date, did you?”

Yeah, okay, that sounds fair. It was all your fault. See, this? This is the power of his puppy eyes. “You’re a dick.”

“A dick who’s about to dick a pretty chick.” He had the audacity to throw a wink at you. “I won’t be long, I promise. I’m not that evil.”

You scoffed loudly. “Yeah, sure.”

“No, I promise.” He landed a kiss on your knuckles before he released your hand. “I’ll behave tonight. For you.” You didn’t want to say it felt like your heart just skip a beat because you’d rather die than admit it, but yes, it certainly felt that way.

“Oh, shut up, Jaeger, you’re about to sleep with a girl on my watch. This thing you’re doing—this—” You gesticulated. “That smirk, those puppy eyes, and that little kiss you just did on my hand—none of them worked on me, okay? None.”

"Yeah, sure." He imitated your earlier response, only flirtatiously.

“Step out of my car. I’m leaving.”

“You can’t leave.”

“Yes, I can. It's my car.”

“And what do you think the press is going to say when they find out Eren Jaeger, the handsome lead dancer of AXIS, leaving a questionable pub at one in the morning, taking a cab alone?”

You stared back, blatantly judging him. “Did you seriously just call yourself handsome?”

“Am I wrong?”

Lord— “Fine. I’ll give you ten minutes.”

“Thirty.”

“Fifteen.”

“Forty-five.”

“Why are you increasing your—that is not how bargaining works!”

“Give me forty-five minutes and I’ll make a minute-long special video for your birthday,” he offered, followed shortly by that godforsaken smirk. “Think about it. You’ll get Eren Jaeger of AXIS congratulating you on your birthday. Think about the power you’re going to have over your friends.”

You bit the inside of your cheeks, couldn't help but feel tempted. “You’re literally Lucifer.”

“Lucifer as in that DILF from the TV show Lucifer? Why, thank you.”

“Oh my God, just get out!” You shoved him away harshly by the shoulders. Cackling, Eren wore his black baseball cap and his mask, stepping out of your car with his hands sticking inside the pockets of his jacket. “Thirty minutes, Jaeger!”

“See you in fifty, Bunny.”

***

You waited for a whole. damn. hour.

Funny how despite all of that bargaining you did, you still waited for him inside your car at two in the morning, parked on the side of the road in front of a sleazy bar called Swanky Bubbles. But you know what was funnier? The fact that you had to barge in inside this sleazy bar (which literally smelled like sex, smoke, and—oh my God, is that a used condom on the table?!), wearing your favorite red dress and slingback heels (you still couldn’t believe you thought you were going on a romantic date with this fleabag. Have you been single for so long that you became that desperate?), and went to the men’s bathroom (because if he was going to fuck a girl, that would be the spot, right? Not that you’d ever done it or anything) only to find out:

“Ah, fuck, look at that dripping fucking cunt, you naughty little—”

Eren stopped mid-sentence, his green eyes were almost black when they met yours in the mirror. As expected, he was getting his dick wet. What you weren’t really expecting was the way he was fucking his girl from behind, her hands gripping tightly against the edge of the sink as she watched the way he thrust deep inside her through the mirror. Eren had his jeans hanging low on his hips, his belt unbuckled. His black shirt was pushed up, revealing a glimpse of six-pack abs—probably eight, how would you know, you never counted. You spotted his handprints on the girl’s ass, leaving angry red bruises on her milky skin. You could tell that he had been rough with her, which caused your thoughts to wander.

They both froze, the blonde girl’s face caught fire while Eren simply grinned. “Hey, Bunny,” he crooned. “Sorry, the bathroom’s occupied. I hope you’re not on the verge of doing number two.”

The fact that he could still run his mouth was beyond you. “Disappointed,” you told him, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you leaned against the doorframe. “But not surprised.”

The girl he was with tried to break away, but Eren took a hold of her wrist and pinned it behind her back. “Now, now, baby, I’m not finished with you yet,” he chuckled, his posture dominating. His voice was a mix between a sultry whisper and a growl. It was kind of… Hot.

Okay, you did not just think that.

Returning his gaze to the mirror, he smirked at you. “As you can see, I’m a little bit busy right now so I'd appreciate it if you just walk away. Unless you want to join us?”

“I gave you thirty minutes, Jaeger.”

“Aww, I thought we’d agreed that you’d wait for fifty.”

“IT’S ALREADY AN HOUR!” Great, now you were screaming at him. You needed to schedule a date with your therapist after this.

Eren sighed. “Look, as much as I enjoy being watched as I fuck, I can’t cum with you yapping your mouth. So, why don't you be a good girl and wait in the car, yeah? I’ll be with you in ten minutes.”

“Five.”

“Fifteen.”

You couldn’t. You literally couldn’t handle him. Your head would explode.

You went back into your car and you waited. You made a mental note to erase your browsing history after this because, in the last fifteen minutes, all you had been doing was searching how to sneak into a top-security apartment to strangle a fucking brat in his sleep.

When Eren stepped out of the car, his face was full of bliss. You turned the engine but he didn’t climb inside right away. Instead, he placed both palms on the hood of your car, smirking at you from underneath his cap.

“So, Bunny, about that coffee—”

You tried to run him over.

***

“Hey, can you put some music on?” Jean said, sitting on the second row of the van, right next to Eren who was sleeping soundly with his arms folded on his chest, his chin tucked. “It’s too quiet here.”

You were driving them to a five-star hotel for their next photoshoot. Armin and Marco had different schedules for the day so they took a different route, leaving you to your own devices along with these two demons who apparently found it impossible to even give you a minute of peace to yourself. Well, at least Devil Incarnate #1 was asleep. Hopefully, forever.

“Go to sleep, Jean. We still have an hour to go.”

“You want me to nag about it for an hour? Because I’ll do it.”

You took a deep breath. “Your mother never loved you, did she?”

“Why, are you trying to make it up by loving me harder than you already are?”

“Fuck you.”

“Now, you know I won’t say no to that, but—” He sighed dramatically. “All you women just keep taking advantage of me and my body. Am I really too pretty for the world?”

Yeah, he was right. Better put on some music before I lose your mind. “There.” You told him, switching on the radio and listening to whatever the DJ was playing. “Now shut up and let me drive.”

“I want to hear Nicki Minaj.”

“Well, I want to hear silence, but we can’t always get what we want now, can we?”

“I have her whole album on my phone. Turn on the Bluetooth.”

“Jean, I’m fucking driving.”

“And not really good at it. Turn it on.”

“Lord—” Trying to keep your attention on the road, you reached out your hand blindly to swipe your fingers on the screen, switching on the Bluetooth. Jean chuckled to himself, mirroring his phone to the screen. You could see his wallpaper. It was a naked picture of a girl. “Dude, what the hell?”

“Keep your eyes on the road, Sweetheart.”

Wait, now that you looked at it, it was a photo of the same person—a beautiful, Asian girl with a little scar on her right cheek—that you caught sucking on his dick before his concert a week ago. “You're still going out with Miss Sloppy? That's new.”

“Yeah, we’ve been going strong these days.” He went through his playlist, running his eyes from one track through another.

“And using her naked boobs as your wallpaper is a token of your appreciation, I suppose?”

“In the highest form.”

"You should've just given her flowers."

He snorted. "No one wants flowers these days, darling."

"I do," you told him and he spared you a glance. "Call me old school, but I think the traditional way of showing your love through flowers, or poems, or love songs—I think that's romantic." Jean simply remained silent, which made you feel uncomfortable since it felt like you just shared something personal you rarely shared with anyone else before.

The song played and you wished Jean would sing along to it so you didn't have to endure the silence—which was ironic considering how much you yearned for it a few minutes ago—but he didn’t. He didn’t even say a word when the song ended and another track played. Frowning, you took a glance of him through the rear-view mirror. You could see how Jean was leaning his back against his seat, his face turning toward the window. He was in a ruminative mood, which was the first time you had ever seen him in. His eyes had lost their usual puckish glow, growing vacant.

You called out his name, your voice unusually soothing that you were surprised with yourself. “You can take a nap if you want to. I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

“I’m not sleepy.”

“I think it’s best to catch some rest.”

“Stop sounding like my mother,” he said, a little bit firmer than usual. Unlike Eren, Jean rarely snapped at you. His voice, though rough, was always melodious when he talked to you, as if he was flirting, even though you knew it was just his way to irk you up. He sounded a bit tense now, maybe even upset.

You paused, giving into silence and he noticed the tension that stretched in the air. Releasing a heavy breath, he ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry,” he said, keeping his eyes on the scenery outside his window. “I just…” He never finished.

There hadn’t been enough chances for you and Jean to know each other better. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to. You just thought it would make things awkward to suddenly converse about personal matters, especially when the only interaction you two had was him making fun of you on a daily basis. But seeing him looking so unsettled like this didn’t feel right. He seemed like he could use a friend.

“Are you okay?” You asked him.

Jean knitted his eyebrows together. “What?”

“I’m asking you how you’re feeling.”

“Uh... Why?”

“Because you look like you’re about to cry and I don’t feel like having a grown-ass man crying in the backseat.” You rolled your eyes, but when your gazes met in the mirror, you could see him smiling a little to himself. You did the same, even grinning. “Look, I know we’ve been treating each other like shit—well,” you corrected yourself. “You treated me like shit. I was just trying to respond to you being a giant ass by—”

“You’re not very good at this, are you?” He simpered. “Comforting other people?”

“Yeah," you chuckled awkwardly. "I don’t have that many friends.”

“Hmm, figured.” But his posture was more relaxed with no venom in his voice. “Well, at least you tried. It’s been a while since I heard someone asking me that question.”

You stole peeks at him through the mirror as you drove. There it was again. That weary, dispirited look on his face. “Is it hard being the leader? Or an idol in general?”

“Sometimes." He shrugged. "I mean, with more popularity coming your way, you’re bound to have your freedom taken away from you too. It's funny, isn't it? How you can have a thousand people cheering your name but at the same time, you feel like no one understands you. Feel like no one really cares about you. They just like the persona you show them on the stage. They don't give a fuck if you're an empty shell inside. And it makes you feel like you're…” He dawdled, unsure of what to say.

“Like you’re alone,” you finished for him. Jean blinked, his eyes drifting toward the mirror and you smiled softly at him when you locked gazes.

“Yeah,” he exhaled, long and heavy. Admitting it out loud felt like he had half the weight off his chest. “Like you’re alone.”

You were chewing on the inside of your cheek, swerving your car to the right. “Do you miss your mother?”

Jean was unfamiliar with the gentleness in your tone, but he liked it. “I do.”

“When was the last time you saw her? In person, I mean.”

“Three years ago.”

You almost hit the brakes a little too hard than intended. “Wow…” As you waited for the red light to turn green, you kept your gaze fixated on the mirror, examining his every expression. “Well, that sucks.”

He laughed dryly. “Yeah.”

“Is it because of your tight schedules?”

“Partially, yeah. But it was more because…” He clicked on his tongue. “She just didn’t want me to be in show business. She felt like I could’ve done so much better than just taking off my shirt on stage like a fucking stripper.” But there was no anger in his voice, only… disappointment, directed toward no one else but himself.

And you understood. Jean—the leader of AXIS who was always drenched in confidence whenever he took the stage—was insecure about his talent. In some ways, he felt like his body was all that was worthy of him. “Can I tell you a secret?” You asked him and he lifted his face. There was a slight curiosity buried underneath the dismal look in his eyes. Right before the light turned green, you tossed him a smile. “Eren is my bias in AXIS.”

He must have expected some heartwarming words to escape your mouth because he was visibly upset once your sentence rang through his ears. “Ah, yeah," he responded emotionlessly. "Not sure how that's supposed to make me feel better but good to know.”

"Who says I'm trying to make you feel better?"

He scrunched up his nose and you beamed back mischievously.

“Kidding. I’m not finished yet." You tried to ease the tension with a peal of airy laughter. “Well, to be fair, I don’t think I can call myself a fan because now I know how evil you guys are in real life,” Jean grunted at that. “But back when I didn’t know any better, I listened to your songs almost every day. I downloaded them illegally, true, but if I had the money, I would've bought your albums because you guys were that good. And I used my campus' free wi-fi to watch your performances every time I got the chance."

"Just how broke are you exactly?"

"Let's not talk about that." Jean's mood seemed to lighten at the way you retold your story. "I think I've watched you guys more times than I’d like to admit. You know how fangirls are.”

“Did you touch yourself while watching our fancams?” He sniggered.

“Congratulations, you just ruined our first heart-to-heart moment.” The glower you sent him was quickly reciprocated with a wink. “Anyway, as I said, Eren was my bias. I just thought he always looked amazing on stage. I still think so. No matter how big of an asshole he is, I’ve never seen someone having that much talent and passion when it comes to dancing. His expression, the way his body moves—it’s like he was born to dance, you know?”

“Thanks.”

You froze, eyes shooting upright to the mirror. Eren, who just thanked you with his voice heavy with sleep, turned to lay on his side. “I’m going back to sleep but don’t let that stop you from fangirling over me,” he mumbled and it took literally everything in your body to stop the blood from pooling in your face. You were about to say something smart—hopefully—when his soft snores echoed to your ears again.

This is so bad for my heart. “Anyway, umm—” You cleared your throat, trying to return your focus to Jean. “W-where was I?”

“Eren is your bias.”

Fuck. “Was,” you immediately corrected, ignoring the flames that bit your cheeks. “Was my bias, but that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to say is that you, Jean, you were my bias wrecker.”

"The hell is a bias wrecker?"

"Someone who unexpectedly caught my attention and made me rethink my original bias."

It was then that his eyes lit up in surprise. “I... I was?”

“Yeah.” You didn't want to use the word cute to describe him but Jean was exactly that at the moment. “There were a lot of times when I saw your performances and I found myself looking at you the entire video. Hell, I think I even spent a good hour watching your fancams back in the days. Can you imagine? Me, actually looking for your videos on Youtube. Crazy, right?”

“No shit. Seriously?” He was almost like a child, the way he was so enthusiastic about it.

“Yeah. There’s something in the way you perform. Honestly, I didn’t even care if you took off your shirt or not. I even wondered why you had to do that so often. Like I get that you’re hot, but you are so much more than just your looks and your body, you know? I feel like even if you were dressed as a school teacher, people would've still found you captivating. At least, I would. Eren has all the moves but your charisma is on another level. You can literally just stand on the stage, and all eyes would turn to you. And if that’s not talent, then I don’t know what that is.”

Jean’s cheeks reddened in a beautiful shade of crimson. You caught a glimpse of it before he averted his gaze, awkwardly scratching his cheek with his index finger. It made you feel happy and sad at the same time. It seemed like there really hadn’t been a lot of people appreciating him for his talent.

Smiling, you kept yourself muted, letting him take a moment for the words to sink in. It was then that Eren groaned.

“Ugh, gross,” he said sluggishly. “Go back to talking about me again.”

Five seconds later, he went back to sleep.

“Is he always like that?” You asked Jean, your heart palpitating.

“Yeah. Annoying, isn’t he?”

“Not as much as you are.” But you shared smiles with him, his gaze softening when he met yours. Even without him forming the words, you could detect a sense of gratitude radiating from him. You were just as grateful. It made you feel content that you understood him a little better now. Maybe, by the end of this job, you two could actually become friends.

“Hey,” Jean called.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to, uhh…” His voice wavered. You could see how his face changed from musing to frowning, to blushing before he finally gave up and said, “Never mind.”

“What?”

“I said, never mind.”

“What, you want us to grab some coffee together? Like on a date?”

He choked, ears turning pink. “N-no.”

He can’t lie to save his life, you thought in amusement. “Okay, Mr. Kirstein, whatever you say.”

Now that the atmosphere was not as heavy, you started listening to the song he was playing on speakers. That was when you noticed something.

“Bitch, this is Cardi B.”

“Aren’t they the same person?”

***

“Here you go, milady.” Armin handed you a bottle of iced strawberry milkshake; his smile was just as sweet and refreshing. With a white towel hanging around his shoulders, he took a seat on the hardwood flooring right next to you. His forehead was glistening with sweat, his shirt was also soaked with it. But the fact that this man still somehow smelled like Johnson’s baby powder was beyond you.

You were sitting cross-legged with your back leaning against the wall, waiting for the boys to finish their dance practice before you had to drive them back to their building. It was ten pm, your body was just as exhausted as theirs were, even when you hadn’t been dancing to the same track for two hours straight. But it was okay. Tomorrow was your day off. You just needed to grab some takeouts for the boys, drop them back to their flat, and then you could spend the rest of your day lounging in your bathtub with a glass of wine in hand, probably listening to Michael Bublé's Christmas album. This, of course, only happened in your imagination as you were so broke you couldn’t even afford a water heater, but a girl could dream, right?

“Well,” you sighed, thanking Armin for the drink. “I’ve only been thinking about murdering your teammates fourteen times this week. So that’s an improvement, I guess.”

“So, like, twice a day?”

“Yeah.”

“And it went down from…?”

“About one hundred and thirty-six times a day.”

“Yikes.” He chuckled, sipping on his sports drink.

Marco was absent from practice that day. He went with your aunt to do a radio interview to promote the new TV show he was in. It was his first acting gig and it was so cute the way he was so thrilled about it.

Jean was still caught up on another photoshoot. He was going to be on the cover of Men’s Health magazine, which would be out sometime early next month. And yes, you indeed told him that you didn’t care whether he was shirtless or not but that was a lie, wasn’t it? Of course, you cared. It would be stupid—and abnormal—not to.

Eren was still practicing the latest choreography, scrutinizing himself in the mirror as he followed his instructor’s steps, imitating his posture and movement. “He always works so hard,” Armin said, admiring him with a little smile of affection. “People always praise his talent, but it’s very rare to see them appreciating the blood and sweat he shed to get to this point. I’ve been friends with him since we were kids. He always worked himself to the limit. I often found him dancing alone in the studio till morning.” His sapphire eyes drooped in concern. “I feel bad that he has to learn much more complicated routines compared to the rest of us. I mean, he is our lead dancer so he has his solo stage, dance break, and everything but… I just feel like our company is working him too hard.”

You followed Armin’s gaze, landing your eyes on the shape of Eren’s biceps that somehow rippled every time he moved his arms. He was wearing a sleeveless white shirt and a pair of black track pants, his high-top sneakers creating squeaky sounds as they rubbed against the floor. The shirt was glued to his skin, the shape of his chiseled abdomen showing underneath the fabric. Eren took off his cap, running his fingers through his hair—his soft, soft hair that still looked fluffy even though his bangs were drenched with sweat—before he placed it back on. “The hell he’s so hot for,” you mumbled.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You cleared your throat, loosening your collar. “I mean, yeah. I agree with you. Actually, I just wish the company will give you guys a break. All of you deserve it.” Armin thanked you with his eyes and that reminded you. “Oh, right, I haven’t gotten the chance to say thank you for the cheesecake you sent me. How did you know that green tea is my favorite flavor?”

“Huh?” He blinked, frowning in confusion before— “Oh! Oh yeah, right. Cheesecake. How could I forget about that?” He slapped himself on the forehead. “Yeah, that was, um—that was from me.”

You squinted your eyes at him. “If little Prince Arlert is lying to me, I don't know who else to believe.”

“Wha—I don’t—” He was sweating for an entirely different reason. When he gave up, he almost curled himself up in a ball. “Yeah, it wasn’t from me. I’m sorry, I lied.”

“Was it from Marco?”

“Uh…” His eyes were shaking. “Umm, yeah, sure.”

“Did you just lie to me again?”

He shuddered. “It wasn’t from Marco.”

Great, you were running out of options. Surely, it wasn’t from Devil Incarnate #1 and #2 seeing how they couldn’t even find the time to buy their own condoms. “Was it from my aunt? Seems very unlikely.”

“No. It was, uhh…” Armin darted his eyes away from yours, mumbling under his breath. He seemed to be in agony when he finally confessed with a grimace, “It was from Eren.”

“What?!” You shrieked, and he was so frightened, he almost jumped out of his skin. There was a reason why you called him Bambi. “Devil Incarnate number one?!”

“I’m legally not allowed to say,” he winced. “But, yeah, Devil Incarnate number one.”

“Why would—” you gasped, eyes widening in horror. “Oh, shit, what if it was poisonous? I just finished the whole cake this morning. What if it’s gonna give me explosive diarrhea or something—oh my God—”

At that point, Armin began to laugh. “Why is it so hard for you to believe that he’s just trying to apologize to you for acting like a douchebag?��

“Because—” You were speechless. After what Eren had done to you, there was no way he would suddenly be so kind and send you presents without any ulterior motive behind it. “Because… I don’t know, it’s just… It feels weird.”

“It feels weird that he’s nice?”

“Eren and the word nice do not belong together. Try to use the words narcissistic bitch, then I’ll agree with you.”

You were Armin's favorite entertainment. Almost everything you did and said never failed to paint a smile on his face. “Yeah, can’t argue with that.”

“But you were the one who told him about my favorite flavor, right?”

“Nope. I honestly thought strawberry was your favorite flavor.” He gestured toward the bottle in your hand. “Hence, the drink.”

“Oh…” You held the bottle close to your chest, grinning at him. “Well, this is my second favorite flavor.”

“Sure.” He bumped his shoulder playfully against yours and you did the same. Whenever you were with Armin, it felt like you were two best friends from high school watching a football game from the bleachers. "Wait, the red roses from last week," you recalled, your forehead creasing again. "Those weren't from the company, were they?"

He chuckled once. "Why did you think they were from the company?"

"I don't know, I just thought they were thanking me for working hard, that's all."

"You're cute."

"Hey, I worked my ass off for you guys."

Armin raised both hands in the air. "Never said you didn't."

You lightly punched him on the chest. "I can't believe Eren sent me flowers."

"Um, no, those were from Jean, actually."

Your heart, once again, dropped to your stomach. "What?!"

“Which I'm also legally not allowed to say!" Armin stood up in a hurry. "I gotta go practice some more. Talk to you later.” He left before you could snatch his hand to keep him in place, half-running to his previous spot.

“Armin, get back here!”

Clasping both hands to his ears, he shouted back with, “La la la, I can't hear you!”

***

Eren was in the middle of swallowing big gulps of mineral water when you tapped his shoulder. “Eren—”

“Jesus Christ—” Startled enough to have his heart in his throat, he pivoted on his heels and accidentally bumped his back against the vending machine. He gripped onto his plastic bottle too hard, spilling water all over the floor. “You scared me!” He exclaimed with one hand clutching onto his chest, his breathing labored. “Can’t you just show up like a normal person?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, didn’t mean to scare your panties off, Princess.” You fake an accent, trying to make yourself sound even more obnoxious to his ears. “Shall I write a note for you next time? Give you a friendly warning before I normally walk up to you and normally call out your name like a normal person?”

He exhaled sharply. “You and your sarcasm.”

“You and your—” stupid, stupid washboard abs, “—ugly hair.”

And just like that, his mouth curved up in a smirk. “We both know that’s not true, Muffin.”

“Whatever.” You tilted up your chin, crossing your arms on your chest. “So, when are you planning to tell me that you sent me a cake yesterday?”

He raised his bottle to his lips, ready to take a sip. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Armin told me.”

He choked, spilling water to his shirt. “Damn it, Armin!” Eren hissed under his breath. With his usual scowl returning to his face, he tried to look unperturbed, even when his nostrils were flaring. “Well, you weren’t supposed to find out about that.”

“What was the point in giving me a cake if you didn't want me to know about it?”

“It’s just…” He dragged his gaze away, mumbling in a subdued tone, “It just makes me feel less guilty about it.”

“Speak louder, Jaeger. Who are you talking to—an ant?”

You were clearly testing on his patience and you loved it. He repeated his words, loud enough to be considered as a shout.

“Ah, okay.” You nodded, playing nonchalantly as usual. “I don’t know if this ever occurs to you, but saying the words I’m sorry would’ve been so much easier to do. And, it won’t cost you anything. Well, your dignity, probably, but you’ll get to keep your wallet.”

Eren flatly stared back. "The last time I apologized to you, you mocked me by saying I had the emotional range of a teaspoon."

"A pregnant woman," you corrected. "Oh yeah, right, you did that. Which was bullshit because then you asked me to come with you to a shady bar where I had to freeze my ass outside, waiting for some girl to finish giving you a sloppy toppy."

"Oh, stop being so dramatic. It's summer. It was literally like forty degrees outside." When you opened your mouth to protest, Eren raised a finger in the air to stop you. You, of course, tried to bite it off. "Look, either way, I didn't want to apologize to you directly so I thought I could just send you a cake."

"But you sent it anonymously." You exaggerated a nod, mouth turning upside-down. "All right. No logic can be found there, but okay, man, whatever keeps you sleeping at night, I guess."

"Jesus—" The more he grew frustrated talking to you, the bigger the joy that swelled inside your chest. His jawlines and cheekbones were too sharp and masculine for him to be sporting a pout, but he still nailed it. "I did what I did because I know you’ll just make fun of me for it.”

True, that is true. “I wouldn’t make fun of you.”

He searched your eyes, his jaw clenching as he contemplated. He was sure that you’d laugh at him but after what he did to you at the bar, he knew that he owed you a proper apology. Fuming and abashed, he threw his hands in the air. “Fine, you want to hear me say it? I’m sorry. There, satisfied?”

There was a moment where you tried to be a better person and keep the promise you made him. But then again, you weren’t that kind of girl so what did you do? You cackled.

“See!” He complained, almost whining, with the tips of his ears matching the shade of your lipstick. “You fucking laughed at me!”

“Sorry, it’s just—” You were tearing up, literally. Swiping a thumb over your lid, you tried to tone down your maniacal laughter into a grin. “God, you can be so adorable sometimes.”

And the line shocked you just as much as it shocked him. Adorable? You went with the word adorable? Out of all the things you could have said? This was Devil Incarnate #1 you were talking about. Adorable was for babies, or puppies—or Armin. Adorable was literally the last word you could use to describe him.

“I mean, you’re annoying as hell,” you quickly added. “But, yeah, adorable.” No need to clarify, you idiot, I think he got that the first time.

And there he was, standing before you with unblinking eyes. You wondered if you broke him—maybe he was a robot designed to piss off humanity, with a self-destruct option activated by the word adorable. You certainly hoped so, as that would give you a reason not to see his face ever again.

But then the robot spoke and the second he did, your fist wanted to make contact with his face again. It was just a natural reaction at this point. “So,” he crossed his arms, leaning one shoulder against the vending machine, showcasing that goddamn smirk as if he wasn't just blushing like a schoolgirl. “Is that the reason why I’m your bias?”

“Was my bias,” you rectified through clenched jaws. “And no, we’re not talking about this.” His grin almost reached his ears now. “Bring up this topic again and I will try to run you over with my car, I swear to God, I will.”

His smile slipped. “You did.”

“Yeah, well, just like that, but harder.”

He sighed, looking so weary, he had to rub his temple with his fingers. “So, did you like it?”

“Running you over with my car? Loved it.”

“I meant the cake.”

“Oh.” You giggled, mocking the way his nose flared in anger. “I’ve tasted better.” He’d already expected that answer but he rolled his eyes anyway. “But, umm…” You dawdled. Trying to vocalize your gratitude to him was as hard as acing your algebra test. “Thank you, I guess.”

He gave you a weird look, astonished but also judging the way you said it. Once he detected the genuineness behind it, a coy smile graced his lips. “You’re welcome.”

“I’ve called my mother and let her know that if I die within a few hours from now, she’ll know who’s responsible.”

“Will you ever stop yapping?”

“Will you ever stop being annoying?”

“It’s part of my charm, Muffin.”

“It’s part of mine too, Ren.” You mirrored his glare, but also the little smile that followed right after.

Despite your constant banter with him, the atmosphere was light, like a feeling that shrouded two friends having friendly arguments over a movie. “No, seriously,” you asked him softly this time, wanting him to be honest with you for once. “Why did you suddenly feel like you wanted to make it up to me?”

He pondered, seeming utterly conflicted between telling you the truth and losing his dignity in the process or lying about it even more. He knew the latter would only piss you off so with his eyes looking anywhere else but yours, he mumbled out, “I just—I realized that you weren’t…” It looked like it physically hurt him to say the words. “… as bad as I thought you would be.”

Now you couldn’t deny the slight jolt your heart did when you heard his line (which was dumb because this was Devil Incarnate #1 for God's sake). But it wasn’t just his words that did that to you, it was his tone, the expression on his face, his body language when he said it. Eren was being… sincere.

You stuck out your tongue, acting disgusted. “Why does it sound so gross coming out of your mouth?”

“Oh my God, you’re so—”

Before he could finish his sentence, a female voice came to your hearing zone. Eren’s eyes widened and he pushed you against the wall, his bottle falling to the floor with a dull thud. Your chests were plastered against one another, warm skin meeting warmer one. He had both hands on the wall, placing each one on each side of your head, hiding both of your frames beside the vending machine.

“What are you doing—”

“Pretending to make out with you,” he said before he bent his head down. You could feel his breath on your neck, hear every time he inhaled your scent.

Two females were passing through the hallway, chattering as they walked past you. “Eww, gross, get a room already,” one of them muttered. “Come on, we should go.” They quickened their steps, their heels clicking as they took fast strides, heading toward the stairs.

Eren, with his face buried in the crook of your neck, murmured, "Hold still until they're gone." You knew he was referring to your pose, but you were also holding your breath. Once their voices turned faint, he slightly widened the gap. He still had one hand propping himself against the wall, his other one trapping your jaw underneath his lean fingers. You could feel his breath fanning your lips, the tip of his nose almost brushing against yours. And you wondered whether you wished he had distanced himself further or leaned even closer.

He smelled like sweat, as expected, but underneath that, you could also smell him—pelargonium, warm cinnamon, and cloves. It might just be his perfume but— “Sorry,” he expressed, a bit timidly, “I don’t wear perfume for practice. I must smell like sweat, huh?”

So you’re telling me this is your natural scent?! “Yeah," you snorted. "You stink. Remind me why are we in this position again?”

“Psychotic ex-girlfriend,” he casually explained as if your faces weren’t hanging two inches away from each other. “Just didn’t feel like being spat on again.”

You were both talking in whispers. “I thought…” There was this tension surrounding you, heavy but not displeasing. Suffocating in the best way. “You don’t date.”

When he chuckled, you could almost feel the vibrations on your skin. His fingertips felt scorching and yet delicate when they traced your jawline, gently guiding your face upward to meet his eyes. You expected to see a smirk, but what he gave you was a light, mysterious smile that pricked on your curiosity. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, baby.”

You almost shivered at the nickname. “Liar. She's probably just someone you had a quickie with before the show.”

Eren’s eyes turned half-lidded, gazing at you like he was appreciating a beautiful painting. “Maybe.” He glided his thumb over your lips, biting the corner of his lower one to resist the temptation. “What about you? Do you date?”

None of you bothered to keep your eyes on each other anymore. You just let them wander, tracing the shape of his mouth as he did yours with his. “I don’t have quickies with random men, that’s for sure.”

His lips bowed. “It’s literally just a yes or no question.”

“Well, I don’t—”

He kissed you, tentatively but firm. Your bodies were meshed, his hand framing your face but it only felt different when your lips moved against one another. He caught you off guard but it was as startling as the fact that you felt disappointed when he broke away.

“You…” You wetted your lip, and he almost groaned at the sight of your tongue peeking out, wanting to have it tangled around his. “You just kissed me…”

The desire in his eyes matched the one that rose quickly in your chest. "Did you like it?"

"Well, I'm—" He cut you off again, only this time, he didn't just kiss you to have a taste. He did it to devour your lips. It was like something snapped within him when he saw the look in your eyes, and you were glad that you didn’t have to voice your thoughts out loud.

You were reaching out to grab him by the nape when he took a fistful of your hair. Two parted mouths consuming one another as if you were fighting for air. Your hands landed on his chest, contemplating between pushing him away or keeping him close as the voice inside your head kept telling you that it was a bad idea to keep this going. Eren didn’t give you the chance to decide, however, as he clamped his hands tightly around your wrists, pinning them against the wall.

"You gotta let me…” you tried to vocalize between heavy kisses, body arching to complete his like a perfect set of a puzzle. “…talk…”

Eren's brain was shut down, his body moving solely on instinct. On lust. He grunted against your mouth as a form of response, teeth gnawing at your supple flesh. He could taste the rest of your strawberry milkshake that coated your tongue, and you could taste yourself in his mouth. The zest of his kiss made your legs buckle, and you slid down the wall for only a few centimeters but he was quick to notice. Eren slipped his leg between yours, his thigh pressing against the zipper of your jeans, and your breath hitched in your throat. There was this little growl that erupted from the back of his throat—one that sounded so sensual—when he felt you nipping at his lower lip, teasing it between your teeth. “Fuck,” he breathed out but he swallowed the praise that was about to follow. The kiss was raw and bruising but the thrill was unlike any other. It was addicting as it was... dangerous.

“Eren!” Armin’s voice was like a ball smashing against the window, shattering whatever it was that clouded you and him. You both broke away, just right in time before the blonde boy stepped into the hallway, noticing your presence. “Oh, there you are! Your phone’s ringing. I think it’s our manager.”

“I’ll be there,” Eren said, noticeably flustered and you wondered why. It wasn’t like him to feel all over the place over a kiss. “I, uh, I’m gonna go.”

“Yeah, okay.” You played nonchalant, smoothening down your shirt. “Break a leg.”

It was awkward when he left, but it would’ve been more awkward if he stayed. So, he did, with his thoughts jumbled and his chest feeling like it was about to explode. Before he disappeared into the studio, he stepped back to catch one more look. “Hey, Muffin.”

You card your fingers through your hair—a messy piece of art designed by his hand. “What?”

He hesitated. The words were sitting heavily on his tongue but he couldn’t move the muscle. Giving up with a defeated sigh, he alternated with, “Break a leg is what you say to actors. You should’ve said merde.”

“Pretty sure merde is French for poop.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“And how would you know?”

You smiled, one corner of your lips rising higher than the other. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, baby.”

***

You and Eren didn’t share a word on your way back to their flat, probably because Armin was present. The blue-eyed boy felt the tension but he didn’t comment on it. Eren, for once, felt too indecisive to state out his thoughts. You stole glances at the brunette from the rear-view mirror, his attractive face illuminated by the headlights of passing cars. He was on the edge of his seat, both literally and figuratively and you wondered why. Surely, it was just a kiss?

When you stopped your van in front of their apartment building, Armin climbed out first, followed by Eren who seemed to have his body glued to his seat. You rolled down your window, keeping your engine running. “It’s my day off tomorrow so I won’t be around, but you can call me if you need anything, Bambi.”

“You won’t be around?” Armin sulked like a child. “Oh, man… I wish we could hang but I've got a variety show I need to film tomorrow.”

“I’ll see you again on Monday. Maybe we can take a short trip to the bookstore before your interview?”

He beamed. “You’re the best, honestly.” Bidding his farewell with a warm wave of his hand, the boy turned to the other man. “Come on, Eren, let’s go.”

“You go ahead. I need to talk to her.”

“O… kay…” Armin observed him with a deep furrow on his temple, noticing the tension but decided not to speak up. “All right, I’ll see you guys later, then.”

“Bye, Bambi.” Exchanging smiles with you, Armin left, stepping inside the building and disappearing inside an elevator.

Eren shifted toward you, tautening his hold around the sling of his sports bag. “We need to talk.”

“Okay.”

“You don’t want to shut down the engine first?”

“Why, would it take a while?” You smiled at him, acting as if you were drained to your bones—which was true, but not this much. “I’m a bit tired.”

His eyes darkened. Clearly, he did not approve of your attitude. “Fine, let’s cut to the chase then,” he bitterly countered. “Why did you kiss me back?”

“I didn’t.” The way you kept your smile intact throughout the conversation sparked his temper. “You kissed me. I just happened to let you do it.”

His eyes were almost sinister as they perceived you. "Seriously?”

You pouted, blinking your eyes cutely just to rile him up even more. “Was that not what happened?”

“You—” Vexation quickened his blood, painting angry red to his cheeks. “I can’t believe you’re playing hard to get after you stuck your tongue in my mouth!”

“Excuse me?” You retorted, feigning disbelief. “Why are you acting like I just took advantage of you? You kissed me without my permission.”

“Yeah, but—” He exhaled sharply, threading a hand through his hair. “You know what? Yeah. Let’s just pretend that you weren’t rubbing yourself against my thigh two hours ago.”

“Oh no, I’m devastated.” You sniggered. “Might cry myself to sleep tonight.”

“Fuck you.”

“Unfortunately, you can’t, Muffin.” You cast a wink and before he could say anything else, you stepped on your gas and drove away.

Through your window mirror, you could see him standing frozen on the pavement, scowling at you as if he could magically engulf you in flames by his stare. You chuckled to yourself.

Revenge had never tasted so sweet.

***

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you lamented against your phone, “You promised that I’d get my day off today. I’ve already told my friend that I'd go to her party!”

“I know, I’m so sorry.” Your aunt was even whinier than you were. “I promise I’ll pay you for your time. I don’t have anyone else to ask for help, honey, I’m desperate!”

You took a glance at the digital clock sitting on your nightstand. It was almost eight-thirty pm, which meant you still had an hour to spare before the party started. You huffed in defeat, blowing out your cheeks. “Fine, but I’ll hold you to your word.”

“I promise. Look, I’ll even transfer the money to you right now.”

“Perfect. Give me the address then.”

It already took you almost an hour just to get into CMN’s building because of the traffic. Grumbling under your breath, you quickly fetched the invitation letters from the lobby—the same ones that your aunt told you to deliver to the boys. By boys, she meant Eren and Jean who were now staying in a five-star hotel where they would be attending a music award event tomorrow.

“Thirty-two minutes?!” You gasped, glowering at your GPS. You didn’t realize the hotel would be that far away. You were going to miss the party for sure. Oh, God, I was looking forward to it too. Clicking your tongue in irritation, you started your engine and drove away.

About fifty minutes later—damn traffic—you found yourself walking into the lobby of the Eastin Hotel. You weren’t sure you were going to get permission to go up to their room but after showing the receptionist your business card, they let you through.

“I can’t believe I’m seeing them again on my day off,” you groused, jabbing your finger against the doorbell of room 1802. You waited, your patience running thin as you logged back into your Instagram account. Your friends were already having fun at the pool, sipping margaritas and dancing to the upbeat music, while you were there, sweating and breathless from all the running, with anger bubbling up quickly on your chest.

Then, the door slid open.

“Well, hello, darling,” Jean cooed with his usual seductive smirk. “Eren, our room service is here. Think we got ourselves lucky tonight.”

“Shut it.” You pointed your finger at him. You were seething, and usually, you would hold back your anger, but with all the traffic, the sudden change in your plans, and his pesky attitude, you were way past your limit. “I am this close at murdering you with my bare hands, Jean Kirstein. I can’t believe you forgot to bring your invitation letter! That’s literally the only thing you have to bring!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down.” He grinned, leaning his back against the doorframe. “You’re gonna wake up the neighbors.” You could feel his eyes wander your body, stopping momentarily to see how perfectly your black dress hugged your waist. “Why are you all dressed up?”

“Because I was supposed to be at a party an hour ago.”

“You look nice.”

“You look disgusting. As always.” Which was a lie, obviously, because Jean was dressed so handsomely in a pair of black trousers and a white button-down shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showcasing veiny arms and large palms. Knowing the boys’ schedule, you were sure that he and Eren were dressed in expensive suits before. It was only right to dress up when you had dinner together with the executives of CMN. Staying unfazed, however, you slapped his letter—and Eren’s—to his chest. “Here. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go kill myself before you boys do.”

You rotated on your heels, about to stomp away when Jean took you by the wrist. “Or you can just stay?” He offered, his smile seemed a lot more innocent than it was twenty seconds ago. “We’re having some wine. You look like you could use a drink.”

Wine? The word echoed wonderfully in your ears. It had been a while since you had some (poor college students couldn’t drink wine for fun). Sighing, you took a peek at your phone screen. It was almost eleven pm. The party was still going on, of course, but it would take you another one-hour drive—even without traffic—and you didn’t really feel like going anymore.

“I hate you,” you muttered but you walked past him anyway. Jean chortled to himself, following after you as you stepped further into the suite.

As a broke college student who couldn’t even pay your rent on time, this suite you were in looked like a fucking castle—one that was futuristically designed, of course. It featured two separate bedrooms, with a living room that was probably bigger than your entire apartment. Plush sofas and a chaise longue were placed in front of a full-set home cinema system. The walls that separated the room with the balcony were fully made of glass, giving way to skyline views of the city.

“It isn’t bad, is it?” Jean questioned, walking past you with his hands tucked inside the pocket of his pants.

“Not bad at all,” you mumbled, still a little bit dazed with the scenery. You followed him further into the living room, marveling over the paintings that were plastered on the wall. You only stopped once you spotted Eren—the same Eren Jaeger who kissed you yesterday—still dressed perfectly in his black suit and a matching tie, lounging on the couch with his legs stretched out on the coffee table. His hair was tied up in a bun, nothing unusual, with a few of his baby hairs falling to his temple. He had a cigarette resting between his fingers and a phone in his other hand. There were two tall glasses nearby—both of them were half-empty—and a bottle of Jordan Cabernet Sauvignon. You weren’t knowledgeable when it came to winery, but you could tell that bottle cost more than your entire outfit including what was inside your purse.

Seeing him elevated your mood, knowing that you’d get to tease him again. “Hey, handsome.”

Eren, about to take a drag, drifted his eyes toward you. “Fuck,” was the only thing that came out of his mouth, the cigarette in his hand left forgotten. You wondered if he cursed because he was annoyed at your presence, but it seemed unlikely with the way he was gazing at you. Just like Jean, Eren sized you up and down, being even more blatant with his stare, undressing you with his eyes. And you thought Jean was obvious.

“Take a picture, baby,” you sneered at him. “It will last longer.”

The stupefied look quickly morphed into a scowl. “What are you doing here?”

“Delivering our letters,” Jean answered on your behalf, taking a seat right next to him. “Better not bring it up again if you don’t want to have your balls cut off.” The ash-brown-haired man snatched a cigarette from its package, placing it between his lips. “Where’s the lighter?”

“Somewhere on the couch.” Eren was still glaring at you, watching you take a seat on the other side of the sofa with narrowed eyes.

“Yeah, keep staring at me like that,” you challenged him. “That would make me want to kiss you again.”

“Did something happen?” Jean asked before Eren could form his retort, moving his eyes back and forth between you and the brunette.

“Oh, Eren kissed me without permission and he’s butthurt because he thinks I took advantage of him.”

“What—I don’t—” Eren’s face caught fire before he hissed, “Oh, shut up.”

He’s so transparent, you giggled.

“I can’t find the lighter,” Jean complained, not really paying attention to your words. Eren groaned, his mood was all over the place because of you. Grabbing Jean by the collar, he closed the distance between their faces. The taller male staggered but he kept his body still, knowing what Eren was intending to do. While holding his own in his mouth, Jean touched the end of Eren’s lit cigarette to his. Then, he inhaled.

“There you go, buddy,” Eren said once his cigarette was lit properly, releasing his hold from him.

With a muffled, “Thanks,” Jean reclined on the couch, the fabric around his collar crumpled from Eren’s grip. He returned his gaze toward you. “Why are you sitting over there? Come here.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” you uttered slyly, standing up from your seat. “I thought you guys were having a moment.”

Jean snorted. “He wishes.”

“Not as much as you do, Horseface.”

You held back your amusement from showing. Jean took you by the hand, guiding you to settle between them. The couch was probably big enough for eight people to sit on, but your shoulders were almost grazing theirs from how close they were to you. You didn’t mind.

“I didn’t expect you guys to be this close to each other in real life,” you commented, silently thanking Jean when he handed you a glass. He poured you some red wine, and as you took a sip, you were shortly impressed by the perfect balance between beautiful fruit, silky tannins, and a lingering finish. You took another big gulp and asked Jean for more. “I mean, you did a lot of fanservice together on stage, but I thought it was just a setup to make yourself more popular.”

“Well, there’s that too, of course.” To your surprise, Eren was the one who answered. You thought he would ignore your existence for the rest of the night, but that didn’t seem like the case. There was still a bitter undertone in his voice but his anger was dissipating. “Want a drag?” He raised his cigarette in the air.

With a smile, too innocent to be alluring, you curled your fingers around his wrist, bringing it closer to your face. Eren watched with hazy eyes, loving the way your lips closed seductively around the same spot he had his mouth on earlier. You inhaled, filling smoke into your lungs before you tilted up your chin and released it in the air. The column of your throat was exposed, allowing his gaze to shift down to your neckline that hung too low. It reveals enough of your cleavage to tease his eyes, but Eren was voracious for more.

It wasn’t just him who was staring. Jean's eyes lingered just as intensely, although he was focusing more on the way your dress rode up your thighs. It felt electrifying, to be heavily gazed at with lust like you were a prey ready to be ravished. You knew that it was only a matter of time before one of you made the first move, and then—

The doorbell rang, surprising all three of you at once. Jean let out a harsh breath. “Must be room service,” he muttered as he returned to his feet. When he left to unlock the door, you returned your attention to Eren.

You just had your lips parted, ready to form his name when he reached out a hand. His fingers skimmed over your cheek, a bit warmer than usual. You had expected him to kiss you and if he did, you wouldn’t be surprised. But he didn’t. He only swatted some loose strands from your face, gently tucking your hair behind your ear. It made you feel weird in such a pleasant way.

"You're still angry with me?" You queried with a juvenile smile breaking on your lips, peering into his eyes.

"What do you think?" His voice was dulcet, almost felt like it didn't belong to him. His eyes drifted down to your lips again, and you were reminded of the passion he burned on your skin a night ago. “You’re gorgeous,” he whispered.

You grinned, sweet and innocent, just the way he liked it. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Jean returned to the living room with a trolley that was filled with ice buckets and a huge plate of blueberry pancakes. The sight made you stitch your eyebrows together. The ice buckets you could understand, but pancakes?

“What?” Eren shrugged when both you and Jean sent him a judging look. “I have midnight cravings, sue me.”

“Sorry, dude, I didn’t realize you were pregnant,” Jean mocked but a grin broke upon his lips when he snatched a bottle of whiskey from the bucket. Holding it in his hands, he showcased his signature smirk. “Let’s have some fun, shall we?”

***

Two hours, half a bottle of wine and one bottle of whiskey later, you found yourself resting your head on Eren’s lap, your legs on Jean’s. Eren’s suit has been shucked off, but he still kept his tie hanging loosely around his neck. Jean’s white shirt was unbuttoned to his chest, enough for you to admire his sculpted muscles if you wanted to.

You were chuckling at the stupid joke Jean was making about a princess and a horse. You didn’t get it. You just giggled because you caught Eren smiling at the joke, and he laughed because you laughed. Jean was so impressed with himself, he went to tell you another anecdote. None of you really cared. It just felt comforting hearing Jean’s voice and Eren’s little chuckles. You were just simply enjoying the moment.

That moment started to change, however, when the alcohol began to kick in. You were tipsy, but not that much. You were still aware of your surroundings, still aware of how Eren’s fingers were resting dangerously close to your breasts, still aware of how Jean’s calloused palms were sliding up and down your legs. The alcohol didn’t make you foolish, it just made you feel… brazen.

You knew what started it. It began with Eren’s hand framing the underpart of your jaw, his thumb tracing the shape of your mouth. His eyes drooped low, enchanted by the view. “What are you staring at, Muffin?” you teased him. He snorted at the nickname, but the alcohol fogged his thoughts, thick enough to make him frank.

“Your lips,” he answered, his thumb gliding from the corner of your mouth to stop in the middle.

“And what about my lips?” You slightly parted them, enough to let your breath caress his fingertip.

“They’re pretty.” He said it in a sigh as if it was a secret he’d been wanting to tell for so long. “Look even prettier like this.”

“Like what?” Eren swore he saw your eyes gleam a split second before you enveloped his thumb with your lips, cheeks hollowing to provide gentle suction before you twirled your tongue around the tip. Eren’s breath caught in his throat but he didn’t lay his emotions on the table. You released his finger with an obscene pop, tongue sweeping over your bottom lip to break the string of saliva. “Like that?”

Knowing the last time he kissed you, you pretended like it was only him who wanted it to happen, Eren didn’t want to repeat the same mistake. But, God, you were so pretty—so goddamn alluring, you left him weak. So he lowered his head, and you permitted him to pull your face toward his, letting his lips consume yours again.

Jean, who had been playing with his phone, froze at the sight. But when you split away from the kiss, your lips glistening with Eren’s spit, you invited him over with a sultry smile. “There's room for one more if you want.”

Then everything went so fast, it felt like a blur.

Your body was perched on the couch, trapped between the two. Eren brought a blueberry to your lips and you caught it between your front teeth. He leaned in to close the bridge between your mouths, his expert tongue curling around yours, thieving the fruit and your breath away at the same time. You felt Jean’s fingers pressed against your jawline, turning you over to him so you could taste the rest of the whipped cream that blanketed his lips.

“You’re a goddamn beauty,” Jean breathed, placing a wet kiss on your nape.

“Your lips taste fucking amazing,” Eren groaned, a moment before your tongues danced.

They were giving you all the attention, dousing you with all the compliments you deserve. Every touch made you feel wanted. Every kiss was a form of desire. And they drowned you in it. In rapture. In ecstasy.

Eren snatched the bottle of wine from the table, too drunk to care about using glass. He took a few drinks, red wine dripping to his chin, staining the collar of his shirt that was now unbuttoned to his chest. With Jean’s lips still sucking bruises on your neck, you twirled Eren’s tie around your hand, tugging it slightly to return his attention to you. “I want some,” you told him and he reciprocated with a smirk.

Instead of handing the bottle over to you, Eren took another sip and kissed you roughly. His strong hand held you by your jaw, his thumb pressing against the corner of your mouth, forcing it open. You obeyed, drinking the wine directly from his mouth.

Jean’s lips peppered kisses down your spine, his hand settled on your breast, gently massaging it before he squeezed you a little harder. You whimpered in pleasure against Eren’s mouth, both from the sensation of Jean’s touches and the way the brunette’s tongue was flicking over yours. Eren licked a stripe up from your chin to your lips, wiping the rest of the wine that dribbled down your skin. “How did it taste?” He asked you, loving the way your tongue peeked out to trace your lip.

You purred when he smooched you again, a bit lazily this time, which made it feel even more sensual. “You mean the wine?” You closed your eyes, choosing to focus solely on the little sounds he made as he suckled on your earlobe. “Or you?” Eren’s mouth was pressing hotly against your neck, and you were sure he was going to leave bruises but you didn’t care.

It was Jean who spoke. “What about me?” His lips were thinner than Eren’s, softer too. He kissed you with a hint of romance, which served as a fresh change to Eren’s burning passion. You moaned against his mouth and Jean took the chance to slip his tongue past your teeth.

“You kiss by the book, Kirstein,” you praised breathily as he nipped on your lower lip. You could feel his mouth curve into a smile, deepening the kiss with his soft moan painting the little space between you.

Eren was jealous, you could tell with the way he suddenly grabbed you by the chin, almost growling when your mouths collided. Jean was a little bit more mature than he was, letting him steal your kiss but it didn’t mean that he was patient. He worked on your zipped, tugging it down, while Eren slipped his hand between your legs. You could feel the material of your dress slipping off your shoulders, Eren’s tongue delving inside your clavicle, Jean’s fingers playing with the hook of your bra.

“I want to fuck your mouth,” Eren whispered, stroking two fingers against your lips and when you parted them, he pressed his digits flat on your tongue.

Jean’s raspy groan was right next to your ear. “I want to taste your cunt.”

You shut your lids, your blood boiling under your skin. Fingers were rubbing against your lingerie, and hands were placed on your thighs to spread your legs wide open. Jean tore your bra away, tossing it over his shoulder. He suddenly lifted you by the waist, laying you down on the round marble table.

“Is this your idea of fun?” You teased him when he took off your dress, throwing it haphazardly on the floor.

“What, is this not fun for you?” Jean pushed your legs forward, keeping his palms at the back of your thighs as he rubbed himself against your clothed heat. You could feel him, could feel how huge he was, throbbing cock aching to be released from its confinement. The friction he gave you stole your attention away that when Eren suddenly moved to the other side of the table, his palm pressing against the underside of your chin to lift your face, you gasped against his mouth.

Eren kissed you upside down, giving you a different sensation and leaving you dazed when he broke away. Looming tall above you, he let his fingers work on his tie. “You better not forget about me, baby girl,” he purred, yanking it away from his collar with one swift movement of his hand. He then toyed with the buttons of his shirt, his smirk was devilish. He knew you were watching him, lascivious eyes wanting to see more of his body. He could’ve torn his shirt open with one hand but he didn’t. He wanted to tease you. Wanted to make you suffer. “All this time pretending you don’t want me,” Eren sneered. “Who’s your daddy now?”

His palm hit your cheek, leaving a burning, tingling sensation on your skin. It was hard enough to toss your face to the side but barely enough to send pain coursing through your veins. It was only to tease, to slightly humiliate you, and it did its job. You’d always loved to find a little bit of pain in pleasure.

You poked your tongue against the inside of your cheek, lips curving upwards in a cocky smile. “You think you can control me, Daddy?”

“Let’s see about that.” You were both smiling into the kiss before you felt his tongue exploring your mouth, his nails raking up from your stomach to the front of your throat. You felt something sticky being dribbled onto your bare chest, trickling down to your navel.

“Something sweet for the sweetest girl,” Jean commented, impressed and satisfied as he smeared the maple syrup all over your skin. You could feel his mouth on your abdomen, tongue tracing along your hip bone, licking the substance off your skin.

Eren, keeping his feet on the ground, leaned forward to latch his mouth on your breast. You mewled in content, kissing the taut muscles of his abs, your hand moving past your head to cup his hardness that was straining against the silky fabric of his pants. “Fuck, baby,” Eren moaned, squeezing hard on your breast, sucking on your nipple none too gently. He was rougher than Jean, more ardent as if he wasn’t afraid to hurt you. He did the same thing to your other breast, the vibration of his grunts felt perilous on your sensitive skin.

Your body jolted when you felt Jean's tongue teasing over the fabric of your lingerie. Your thighs closed around his head in reflex but he spread them open again, keeping your legs pinned to the table with his hands. "Didn't I tell you, Sweetheart?" he murmured, softly kissing the inner parts of your thigh. "I want to taste you." His breath felt hot on your skin, but you shivered in response. He pushed your lingerie to the side, licking a stripe up from your entrance to your clit. It had been so long since you had someone pleasuring you like this, that even a single flick of his tongue sent tremors all over your body.

Jean chuckled, loving your reaction just as much as he loved your taste. "Think I'll have you for dessert," he said, wet tongue swirling around your clit before he played it between his lips. “Such a pretty fucking pussy.”

“Wait,” you gasped out, fingers clawing against Eren's biceps. “Wait…”

They stopped, breaking away to give you space. “You all right?” Jean asked you from between your legs. He hadn’t gotten enough taste of you yet, but your consent was his priority.

Tossing him a reassuring smile, you told him to let you go for a minute. You returned to your feet, sliding your lingerie off your legs. Their eyes traversed down your body, enchanted by the way you swayed your hips, wondering how it would feel to have their nails sinking into your skin as they fucked you from behind.

You whirled around, your skin felt like it was on fire underneath the intensity of their gazes. “If we’re gonna do this,” you tempted them with seduction, both on your lips and in your eyes. “Let’s do this right.”

You took them both by their hands, leading the way to the master bedroom. You were their queen, stepping into your throne. Taking a seat at the edge of the bed, you crossed your legs and rested your palms on the sheets as you leaned back.

“Boys,” you called. “Why don’t we start with you two sucking each other off?”

“You want us to do what?”

There. Now you’re all caught up.

***

Jean has a secret he hasn’t told you. Or anyone else for that matter. And the truth is…

Fuck, he tastes so good.

Eren’s lips are nothing like a girl’s. They don’t feel as soft, they don’t taste as sweet. But it’s precisely because they’re so different, that when their mouths clash, it feels ten times better. Jean doesn’t have to hold himself back. He doesn’t have to be careful or gentle. Eren kisses like he wants to tear him apart and he can kiss him back just as rough, just as demanding.

The brunette pulls away, a string of saliva connecting their lips. Jean sees the way his viridian eyes move back and forth, drifting from his eyes to his lips as if he’s trying to figure out why the fuck does this feel so good?—the same question that Jean has been asking himself. But that’s where he's wrong.

Because Eren already knows how good it feels to kiss boys. Or to fuck boys. What he doesn’t know—yet—is how good it would feel to have his cock hitting the back of Jean’s throat, and he can’t wait to find out. The shorter male wets his lips—they’re bruised and red, and if Jean kisses him again, just a tad harder, maybe they’ll look even prettier.

Jean is done denying himself. He’s done contradicting the fact that his eyes always lingered a little too long on Eren’s hips during dance practices. And he’s done—he’s so fucking done—pretending like those dirty thoughts he had about him at night don’t exist. He’s thought about him a lot, thought about how pretty Eren’s lips would look around his cock. Thought about those striking green eyes looking up at him as he fucks his mouth. Thought about how his cum would look so good on his sun-kissed skin. And he'd thought about all of that as he fucked his own fist, biting his lip to refrain Eren’s name from escaping his mouth.

“Fuck this.” Jean tugs him back by his key-shaped pendant, sharing grunts and groans when their teeth nip at each other’s lips. Eren’s fingers scratched against his nape, messing up his mullet like how Jean does with his bun. Their jaws clench with every movement, hairs being tugged harshly at the roots.

“You taste fucking disgusting, Jaeger,” Jean snarls before he sucks on his tongue.

Eren sinks his nails on his chest, painting angry half-moons on his skin. “You’re gonna make me vomit,” he counters but their kisses are more teeth than anything else, and if Eren can make him bleed, good.

Jean isn’t given enough time to think about anything else when the other man suddenly descends to his knees. The taller male tenses, his eyes shaking in anticipation. Eren pushes his trousers down to his mid-thighs, frees Jean’s cock, and lets it slap against his stomach. Eren glowers at the sight. He hates to admit just how fucking huge he is. He hates it even more that it only makes him want him better. “Relax, Horseface,” he says. “I’ve done this before.”

“What do you mean you’ve done—fuck—” Jean chokes the second Eren takes him into his mouth, his body slightly bending forward with his fingers fisting his bun. His mouth is warmer than he thought it would be, his teeth dangerously gliding against the pulsating vein on his cock. Ah, shit, Jean laments in his head, I’m so fucking turned on.

Giving in to his desire, he moves his hips, thrusting his cock inside Eren’s mouth. The shorter male growls back, jade eyes sending daggers to him. Eren places both hands on each side of Jean’s hips, holding him in place. He pulls away, Jean’s cock sliding heavily out of his mouth. “I get to suck your cock,” Eren lowly says, gripping tightly on his length, “But you don’t get to fuck my mouth. You got that?”

Jean swallows thickly. The dominating tone in Eren’s voice is something he hasn’t heard before. “Uh… Yeah.”

Eren bobs his head down again, trying to take as much as he can until Jean can feel his head hitting the back of his throat. He whimpers, his hold tensing around Eren’s hair, his thighs trembling.

You giggle at the sight. “You guys are turning me on.”

You step down the bed, taking a couple of strides to reach their spot. Jean’s eyes are half-lidded, hazy with lust when your hand slides up from the middle of his chest to his shoulder. You play with the end of his hair that’s plastered against his nape, damp with sweat. “Does it feel good, Sweetheart?” You ask him, using the nickname he gave you. Your other hand goes down to slip between Eren’s strands, pushing his head forward to take more of Jean’s twitching member.

Eren lets out an involuntary moan, tears prickling on the corners of his eyes. “Mmph!” He chokes, gagging around his length.

“Ssshh,” you shush him down with a smile, stroking the back of his head. “Hold it in. You’re a big boy, aren’t you, Ren? I’m sure you can handle a cock in your mouth.” Eren breathes sharply through his nose, glaring at you but it only makes you smirk wider. “If you can make him cum, I’ll give you a reward.”

Eren breaks away, gasping between coughs. “I’m gonna make you cry after this.”

“Mmm, I can’t wait.” You fasten your hold around his locks, shoving his head forward and backward. Eren lets his jaw hang loose, tasting the saltiness of Jean’s pre-cum, the tip of his nose grazing the hairs that covered his pelvis.

Your tongue is parting Jean’s thin lips when the man shudders, “Fuck, fuck,” he gasps against your mouth. “I’m gonna—”

“Cum, baby,” you whisper, taking his earlobe between your teeth. “Cum in his mouth, I wanna see it. Wanna see him lap at your cock like a slut that he is.”

Eren snarls back but he has no other choice but to sit still with how tightly you’re holding him in his place. Tears mist his hazy eyes, and you wish Jean could hold it in just a little bit longer so you can see Eren cry on his cock. But this is good enough. If Jean can’t make him cry, you’ll do it yourself later.

Jean’s hips stutter when he cums, his jaw turning slack, a long, guttural moan escaping his throat. Eren breathes heavily from his nose, feeling his warm seeds filling his mouth but before he can do anything about it, you yank harshly on his hair, forcing him to face the ceilings. “Open up,” you command him, and he does, letting you take a good look at the thick cum that pools in his mouth. You giggle, satisfied by the sight. “Keep your mouth open for me.” You bend yourself forward, your face hovering above his. You spit into his mouth, startling him. Eren sinks his nails into his thighs, emerald eyes piercing yours as he thinks of ways to make you pay for what you did. Undaunted, you swipe two of your fingers on his chin to collect the cum that trickles down the skin. Jean, still dazed after his orgasm, moans when you shove your fingers inside his mouth, letting him get a taste of himself. Forcing Jean to suck on your fingers, you turn your head toward the boy who’s still waiting obediently on his knees. Smirking, you say, “Now, swallow.”

Eren keeps his eyes on you as he does, trying not to grimace because he knows you’re going to use it as another reason for you to ridicule him. Jean’s seeds leave a bitter aftertaste and he loathes it, but it’s okay. Eren will make Jean pay for that.

And you. He’s going to make you pay for that.

You’re about to land your fingers on his cheek when Eren harshly slaps your hand away. Returning to his feet, he grabs you by the neck, his palm pressing against the front of your throat, fingers curling against the sides. He kisses you roughly, hungrily, taking your breath away but you’re unsure if it’s solely because of his lips or his leans fingers that threaten to crush your windpipes. When he pulls away, your lips are parted in desperate need to refill the air in your lungs. Eren spits in your mouth, just like you did to him a minute ago, only harshly. “How do you like that?” He questions with a smirk.

You chuckle. “I love it, Daddy.” Because even if you don’t, you’re not going to give him the satisfaction of having his power over you.

Eren sweeps your feet off the floor, carrying you with one hand wrapped around your back as you tangle your legs around his waist. Right before he brings you over to the bed, you hook your fingers around Jean’s necklace, tugging him forward with you. Jean, with his legs still wobbling under his weight, nearly trips over his feet before he follows you both.

Eren throws your body onto the sheets, making you bounce once from how careless he’s being. “You’re gonna give me my reward, Sweetheart?” He asks, looking down at you with a degrading stare as he takes his leather belt out of the loops. He ties it around your throat, treating it as a leash. Yanking it forward, he forces you to sit upon the bed until you have your lips hovering a few inches below his. “Gonna be my fucking bitch for the night?”

Eren burns you with his gaze, with his kiss, with his fire. “I’ll be whatever you want, Daddy.”

“What will you offer me then?”

“Everything.” With a nudge of your head, Jean discards the rest of his clothes and joins you on the side of the bed. You tilt your head to the side as an invitation for Jean to praise your body. He eagerly latches his lips on the pulsating vein on your neck, giving kitten licks on the spot under your ear. “Do you want to fuck my mouth?” You ask him, spreading your legs and pushing the fabric of your lingerie to the side so Eren can take a good look at your protruding clit. “Or would Daddy like a taste?”

It’s fucking ridiculous just how much Eren wants you. You’re asking him this question with another man’s hands roaming your body as if you don’t care whether he exists in the room or not. Your lips might form the words that he wants to hear—that you are there to please him for the night—but the rest of your body expresses that Eren doesn’t own even the slightest part of you. God, it’s like the more you’re playing hard to get, the more he wants you. You give him the thrill he’s been looking for. Unlike other girls, you don’t succumb to him, and he’s running out of tricks trying to beat you into submission. Even when it’s obvious just how wet you are for him right now, your arrogant smirk never falters from your face.

“What?” You croon, every tone and gesture is seduction at its finest. You arch your back, making a lewd expression when Jean traps your nipple between his teeth. “Cat got your tongue, Daddy?”

Eren scoffs. “You want me to eat you out?”

“Only if Daddy wants to.”

“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Eren slaps his hand against your cunt, making you giggle with your legs closing in reflex.

“Don’t be so mean to me, Daddy.” You bat your eyelashes at him. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t get to fuck me.”

“Do you think I’m waiting for your permission?”

“Of course you are.” You run a tongue over your lower lip, knowing how much it drives him insane. “Cause you like me, don’t you, Ren? You’re not gonna hurt me, not in that way. Go ahead and tell me I’m wrong.”

He grits his teeth behind tight lips. You’re a witch. You must be a goddamn witch to be playing with his mind like that.

“That’s right,” you snicker. “You just can’t wait to shut me up with your cock, can you? Though I don’t think you can even if you try.”

Eren snorts, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Jean,” he calls out and the other man lifts his head from the curve of your neck. “Give us a moment, will ya? I need to teach her a lesson.”

If he was still as turned on as he was a few minutes ago, Jean would’ve formed a protest. But with all the alcohol in his system, his cock still flaccid between his legs, he would actually be thankful to just lean back and watch the show. “She’s all yours.”

“Aaw,” you send a pout in Jean's direction. “You’re gonna leave me with him? Just like that? What a bummer.” You spin your face toward the green-eyed boy again, a naughty twinkle in your eyes. “His cock isn’t even as huge as yours.”

That flips the switch. “Come here,” Eren growls, forcefully pulling you to the edge of the bed by the belt that circles your neck. You’re giggling, squealing in anticipation. This is your game, and he’s making all of this too easy. Standing right next to the edge of the bed, Eren orders you to sit on your heels like the obedient little girl he wants you to behave. And for once, you do as he says, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

His hand finds his belt again, twisting it around his palm to guide your face closer to him. “Stick out your tongue.” You follow his words, loosening your jaw and Eren dips his head to suck on it before he encloses his lips around yours. “Now let’s see what that pretty fucking mouth can do.” His voice trickles smoothly like honey.

Eren skims his hand over your throat before he reaches up. His thumb glides along your lips while his other four hold you firmly by the jaw. You dart out your tongue, swirling it around his tip before you close your lips prettily around it.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, “Treat it like how you’re gonna treat my fucking cock.”

You moan around his thumb, sucking it a few times before you let it slide out of your mouth. Eren slaps you again, and you titter even when it stings. He plunges his third and fourth fingers into your mouth, pushing them as deep as he can until his knuckles graze your upper lip.

“Don’t choke.” He tilts up his chin haughtily. “Hold it in. You’re a big girl, aren’t you, baby?”

He’s throwing your words back at you. You almost laugh. This fucking bitch.

He’s thrusting his fingers inside your mouth so strongly, it’s almost impossible not to gag but you try your best not to. Your breathing rags when he has his other hand pulling on his belt again, its leather constricting around your throat.

“Keep your eyes on me,” Eren says, smiling both coquettishly and condescendingly when he sees your eyes start to water. “You’re gonna cry, Sweetheart?”

He snatches his fingers away, a thick string of drool dripping down your chin. Your chest is heaving up and down as you cough, which makes Eren simper at the sight. You’re beginning to look wrecked with your lipstick smeared to your cheek and he loves it.

Not wanting to lose, you slide your hand down his chest to the bulge inside his pants. “Why don’t you close your damn mouth for a second, and use this on me instead?”

“I’m glad you asked.”

He unzips his pants, pushing them low enough until he can free himself. Eren, just like Jean, is above normal size. He might be an inch shorter than him, but he has more girth, more pretty veins on the side. It’s already leaking pre-cum from all your teasing, twitching when he feels your warm breath caressing his head. He skims his tip against your lips, tracing the shape of your conceited smile.

“Well, well, well,” you snicker, taking him in your hand and giving him slow, lazy pumps. “Guess you’re not as small as I thought you were.” You reward him with a kiss on his tip. “Still not as long as Jean’s though, which is disappointing.”

Eren has had enough. He can handle your teasing, he can handle the temptation in your gaze, but he can only do it for so long. Without warning, he flips you over, bringing you down until your spine is pressed flat against the sheets, your head dangling over the edge. He slaps the side of his cock against your mouth. “Let’s see if you can still use your mouth after this.” And he pushes in, sliding past your lips and teeth, aiming to hit the back of your throat without waiting for you to adjust. You gag around his length and he can see the way your throat is contracting. It’s beautiful. He doesn't have to imagine—he can vividly see where he is inside your mouth, how far he is down your throat.

“Gonna fuck your mouth now, Princess,” he warns, his tone filled with nothing but mockery. “You better watch your teeth.”

He thrusts forward, one hand still gripping tightly around the belt while his other one takes possession of your breast. You try to relax your jaw as much as you can, eyes shut close with a frown breaking on your temple. Your nose flares as you try to breathe, his testicles smacking against your face with every thrust. It’s the first time someone has ever face-fucked you upside down, and although it frightens you, it also sparks thrill on your skin.

Eren releases you only when he feels you tapping your hands against his thigh, unable to breathe. Coughing, you turn back to your stomach, panting frantically for air. He goes down to his knees, bringing two fingers under your chin to lift your face. Now that your faces are on the same level, he can see hot tears painting your eyes, smudging your mascara. His fingertips are delicate on your cheek, nothing like the way he moved his hips earlier. "You okay?" he asks.

Your vision is too blurry to see the genuinely concerned look on his face. Catching your breath, you try to keep your cocky demeanor in check. “That's all you got, Daddy?”

Your remark stuns him but then his eyes darken. Smiling too innocently to be real, Eren rises back to his feet. He tosses the rest of his clothes to the floor, pitching his voice a little louder when he says, "You're ready for more, Horseface?”

Of course, he is. Jean has been dying to take part in the game again. He's been watching you all the time, observing the way your body jerk with almost every thrust of Eren’s sinful hips. But Jean has always been the more mature one, hasn't he? Kinder, too. “Don’t you need to take a break?” He asks you, and Eren scoffs at the question. You answer with, “No, I don’t,” at the same time as he replies, “No, she doesn’t.”

And that settles it.

Seven minutes later, you have Jean lying underneath you with his cock pulsating deep inside you. You’re bouncing on his lap, your breasts mimicking the motion when they're not caught under Jean's hands. Eren is kneeling right beside his head, stuffing his mouth with his cock. You can feel Jean’s hold around your hips tighten when Eren slides his hand to the back of his skull, taking a handful of his ash-brown hair. “How do you like my cock in your mouth, Leader?” He husks. “Every time you open those pretty lips of yours all I can think about is making you gag around my cock.”

You can feel Jean jolting inside you. Mirroring the expression Eren has on his face, you ask the taller male a question. “Oh, so you like it?” You chime in with a lopsided smile. “You like being talked down like this, don’t you? How very surprising. The charismatic leader of AXIS likes to be degraded in bed.”

Jean blushes, about to move his face away but Eren keeps him still. “I knew those lips would look pretty around my dick," he breathes out, "Look at you taking it in like a fucking whore.” He emphasizes his last words with a string of hard thrusts, making Jean moan harder around his length. Eren throws his head back, drowning in bliss. “Oh, fuck—your mouth feels so good—wanna fill you up with my fucking cum, Jean.”

“What about me?” you shoot him an impish grin, garnering Eren’s attention back to you.

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart, you’ll get your turn,” he promises you with a wink. Wrapping the belt around his hand again, he pulls you close. You lean forward in reflex with your hands resting on Jean’s chest, lips meeting Eren’s halfway as he circles his other hand around your throat. “I’m gonna stuff your mouth with my cock again right after we’re finished with him.” Eren takes your lower lip between his teeth. “Gonna cum down your throat so hard, you’re gonna remember how I taste for weeks.”

“Mmm, yes, Daddy.” You grind your hips, biting back a moan when Jean’s pelvis rubs against your clit. Your walls flutter around his cock, robbing a low groan from his throat.

Jean suddenly lifts you by your waist, raising you as high as he can in the air so he can slide himself out of you. Orgasm hits him like the storm and he reaches his high with thick white strings splattering all over his stomach. You blink in surprise, exchanging stares with Eren who is just as startled. Then you both laugh.

Releasing himself from Jean’s mouth, Eren chuckles, “That’s the second time you’ve cummed tonight, Horseface,” he mocks, perceiving the way Jean drapes his arm over his face, hoping that it would be enough to conceal his rosy cheeks.

“Shut up,” he hisses back, deeply mortified.

“What, you can’t even hold it in for ten minutes?” Eren taunts, trading giggles with you. “Have you ever satisfied your women in bed? Seems like to me you don't know how to fuck—”

“Oh my fucking God—” Jean abruptly sits on the bed, almost making you stumble off his lap. You’re still laughing quietly when you try to soothe him down with a kiss.

Eren swipes two fingers across Jean’s stomach, coating his pads with his essence. "Come on," he invites you. "It's only fair."

Rolling your eyes, you bring your face closer to his, darting out your tongue. Eren smears Jean's cum all over your lips and tongue but he smashes his lips against yours so he can share the taste. Jean watches with his face flushed, unprepared to see what's happening before him.

Eren, even though he was so harsh with him before, kneels behind the taller male and wraps his arms around his shoulders from behind.

“It’s okay, Horseface,” he whispers right next to his ear, taking his earlobe between his teeth. “Perhaps you just need some practice. Now sit tight and watch.” Eren’s eyes seem to glow as they catch yours. “I’m gonna teach you how to fuck your woman.”

“Am I your woman, Mr. Jaeger?” You tease him as he meets you in the middle of the bed. You share a kiss, a little too sweet than intended, but you know it’s only a taste of what’s coming.

“For the night.” Eren slides his hand between your legs, talented fingers playing with your clit. “You know, for the little devil that you are, you do have a pretty cunt.” You spread your thighs to let him probe his fingers over your entrance. He rubs his digits around your hole, coating them with your juices before he retracts his hand. Keeping his eyes on yours, he sucks on his fingers. He hums in content, sending shivers down your spine with how sensual he’s being. “Taste fucking sweet too.”

You’re at your limit. This sexual tension between you and him needs to be released. You hate to admit it, but you’ve been wanting him for much longer than you thought. Even way before you started this job. You clamp your fingers around his wrist, stopping him. “No more foreplay.”

His eyes glint in desire. “Then, say it. Say that you want me.”

You take a deep breath, your patience thinning. “I want you.”

The satisfaction in his smile has never been this crystal clear. “All right.” He kisses you softly, tongue slowly pushed in and plundered. “Let’s give him a show he won’t forget, shall we?”

But his next move is anything but soft. He turns you over, slamming your body down to the bed, and keeping your face pressed against the sheets as he rests the heel of his palm between your shoulder blades. He smacks your behind—once, twice—leaving burning handprints on your skin. “Ass in the air, baby girl.”

You hiss in both pain and excitement as you get into position. He’s being as rough as always as if the sweet kisses you just shared with him a few seconds ago were nothing but your imagination. You follow his order, lift your hips, and Eren positions himself behind you. He spits into his palm, lathering his cock before he lets his tip glide against your folds. “I think I’ve made you cry twice before.” He bends forward, murmuring the words against the skin that covers your spine. “But you keep denying that you didn’t.”

“Because that’s the truth,” you heckle him.

“Well then,” he pushes in, burying himself inside you right to the hilt. You almost mewl, taken aback by the friction. You can feel the smirk in his voice when he says, “I’m just gonna have to fuck you hard until you sob out my name, aren’t I?”

When he starts to move, he leaves you gasping. He’s not as big as Jean but he stretches you and fills you in a way that makes you twist your fingers against the sheets. He pumps into you, furiously, groaning in rapture, and building on the shockwaves that already coursed through your body ever since your encounter with Jean. But Eren takes you higher, letting you experience something new—this emotional wrenching, this surge of pleasure and passion, all wrapped into one writhing mess of bodies slick with heat.

“Fuck!” you cry out. Have you ever been fucked this hard before? You don't think you have. If you had, you sure as hell would've remembered it.

Eren steals your hand away from holding you up on the bed. He pins your wrist against your spine, driving himself harder into you. He’s rubbing against your insides so perfectly, that even if he’s not hitting your G-spot just right, it feels like he is even with the slightest sway of his hips.

“That’s right, baby,” he chuckles between heavy breaths, hearing you keen. “That’s more like it.”

The fact that you still feel so fucking tight after taking Jean’s cock inside you makes him ferocious. He leans forward to sink his teeth in the juncture of your neck, making your muscles taut from the pain. With a filthy smile, Eren straightens his back, grabs your other hand, and pins them together behind your back. He keeps them that way, his hand large enough to hold your wrists together. You're whimpering with your forehead planted on the bed, but not for long.

Wanting to take a step further, Eren launches his other hand forward, finding home in your strands before he yanks harshly on the roots. “Ah—” Your eyes are fixated on the ceiling, your hands restrained against your back as Eren propels forward in one hard slam of his hips, hitting your deepest part. He doesn’t give you a chance to breathe—a chance to do anything. He just keeps fucking you like he owns you. And maybe he does, for the night, at least.

You’re close. You’re so close, your body is shaking. “Eren—”

“I know, baby, I know,” he chuckles, picking up his pace. His thrust turns shallow but it’s precisely because of that, that you feel the knots inside your stomach tightening. “God, you feel so fucking good—”

“Ren, I’m gonna cum—”

“Yeah?” He breaks away, flipping you over to your back. You’re whining from the loss. Just a few more thrusts and you would’ve cummed all over his cock. But Eren knew that, that’s why he didn’t.

“I fucking hate you,” you mutter harshly, watching him glide his cock over your folds, slapping it against your clit. It’s so sensitive that your whole body jerk at the sensation.

Eren titters. “How do you like being edged, baby?”

“Eren—damn it—just fuck me.”

“Only if you beg.” His grin was devilish, which suited him so well. “You know how to beg, don’t you, baby girl?”

You almost snarl. He has you right where he wants you. If you had more patience, you would tease him a little more, giving him the taste of his own medicine. But it’s been over an hour—probably two or three, you've lost count—since you started touching each other and you’ve never felt your body aching this much for a release. “Please,” you whisper through gritted teeth.

“What was that, love?” He heard you. You know he did. He just wanted to see your dignity breaking to pieces.

“Please!”

“Please what?”

“Please let me cum—ah!” Eren rams himself back in before you can finish, throwing your legs over his shoulders, folding your body in half. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing his digit vigorously around your sensitive nub. The stimulation is too much and you find yourself sobbing out his name, just like he wants you to.

"Eren, fuck, please, please, please, I want to cum."

It’s beautiful the way you moan it, better than anything he'd imagined, making him feel a thousand things at once. “Ah,” he rasps, releasing a breath as his half-lidded eyes gleam in satisfaction. “Finally.”

And he lets you cum on his cock, lets you clench and unclench your walls around him, lets you surrender in his arms. Your entire body convulses, not accustomed to the intensity of pleasure that hit you at once. Eren doesn’t stop—he won’t, not yet. Your mind reels from the overstimulation, your body still quivering.

You expect him to not care and continuously fuck you hard until he finds his own release. But Eren slows down his pace, sliding your legs down from his shoulders and letting them ensnare his waist. When you part your lips to him, he touches you with his tongue and he moans your name, softly like a soulmate would do. His lips, for the first time, feel real. Honest. Sweet.

Maybe it’s because you’re still drowning in delirium that your mind starts to build fantasies on its own. Because right now, you’re imagining that this would be how he would kiss you if you were his lover. The way your bodies complete each other, the way he whispers your name with his lips brushing against your ear, the way he calls you, "Beautiful. You're so beautiful. I want you to belong to me. Want to make you mine.”

Or maybe it's simply because you've just been denying yourself for so long. This attraction between you, this tension, and the electricity that zaps through your body—what if they all mean something more?

Eren keeps your mouths attached as he slowly regains his pace. “I’m close,” he grunts, sinking his face in the crook of your neck. “Fuck, baby, I want to cum inside you.”

That’s maybe why you find yourself sighing out his name, winding your arms around his shoulders, and taking the shell of his ears between your lips. “Then, do it. I want to feel you inside me, Eren. I want to feel all of you.”

And he does, his low groan painting the side of your neck, his fingers lacing around yours as he drags your hand over your head. He’s panting hard, his hips losing their rhythm. You wrap your legs tighter around his waist, your free hand slipping between his strands, accidentally unfastening his hair tie as you card your fingers through them. His locks fall to frame his cheeks and he presses his temple against yours as he catches his breath. When your hand rests on his upper arm, you can feel the quivers that run through his muscles.

“Did it feel good?” You ask him, and for the first time that night—or perhaps, ever since you met him—your smile is heartfelt, glazed with affection, tender with adoration.

He returns it with his own lips curving upwards, just as sweet, just as soft. He kisses you once, languid and chaste. “It felt amazing. You?”

“Don’t get cocky, but…” You wind your arms around his neck, playing with the baby hair on his nape. “That’s probably one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had.”

Eren beams back with a smile that is just as youthful as his face. “I’m glad.” He bends his head down, nuzzling the tip of his nose against yours. “Hey, what if we go get—”

“Yo, asswipe!”

Jean’s voice strikes like thunder, snapping you both awake from whatever it was that shrouded you. You’ve completely forgotten that he was there, watching you the whole time.

Eren breaks away from you, turning his head over toward the man who’s leaning his back against the headboard, lounging. Jean throws his hand in the air. “What the fuck was that?”

The shorter male clears his throat. Maybe Jean can’t see it from where he is, but being this close to you, you can see the flush that blooms on Eren’s cheeks. “And that,” Eren says, trying his best to display his arrogant smirk but he’s not fooling anyone in the room. “—is how you fuck your women.”

“No,” Jean snorts. “That’s how you made sweet, sweet love to your girlfriend, you pretentious asshole.”

Your face bursts in flames. Eren probably does too. “Shut up, Jean, you want me to fuck you instead? Maybe that’ll teach you a lesson.”

“I think I’ve had enough of your dick, thank you,” Jean grimaces, sticking out his tongue. His eyes drift toward you, frowning when he sees you unfastening the belt from around your throat, unwinding it in the air as you shift closer to him. “What are you doing?”

“Considering Eren is a bad teacher.” You’re much better than the brunette in concealing your emotions. “I’m thinking about teaching you a lesson myself.” Eren blinks in confusion before his realization sinks in. Then, he smiles. Wicked and smug.

Jean shudders, both in horror and excitement, as you spread the belt between your hands. Eren drapes his arm around your shoulder. Both of you look casual, but the question you’re asking is anything but.

“So how do you feel about being tied up, Leader?”

***

Smokes fill the air as you're lying down on the bed. Your body is still bare from head to toe, skin glistening with sweat. You're savoring the aftertaste of your orgasm, nestled between the two men with your bedcover draping over the bottom half of your bodies.

Eren, just like Jean, is lying on his back, his key-shaped pendant rests above his heart. He takes a drag of his cigarette before he passes it to you and lets you do the same. You mirror his action before you hand it over to Jean.

"So that was wild," Eren comments, breaking the silence.

Jean inhales around his cigar, blowing puffs of smoke to paint the air. “I've had wilder nights.”

“Shut the fuck up, bro, you cummed, like, four times.”

Jean's long arm stretches past you, smacking Eren hard on his chest. "Three!"

You giggle, the sound feels like music to their ears and a couple of seconds later, they share your laughter. “Man, I’m glad they hired you,” Jean says, staring fondly at you.

You scrunch your nose cutely at him. “You certainly didn’t think that way when we first met.”

“Well, I’ve changed my mind.”

“Great. I’m only gonna be your assistant for another week, though.”

“What?” It's Eren who replies, turning around to face you with his body props by his elbow. “Why?”

“Cause I’m tired of your shits." He pouts at your answer. Stifling a laugh, you retrieve the cigarette back from Jean's hand. “Come on now, Eren, we both know you aren’t a pleasure to work with." Jean snickers at your comment but you quickly silence him with, "Neither are you, Genius.”

"Not a pleasure?" Eren, despite his age and the attitude he showcased a few minutes ago, only pouts harder. “Didn’t I just make you cum, though? Like, four times?”

You wish you could correct him like Jean did but no, that's about right. "S-shut up."

When silence comes to sit like an old friend, the three of you are musing over the same thoughts in a slightly different way. “Well, then..." Jean pauses. "What’s gonna happen now?”

“Keep it between us and move on, what else?” You voice out, handing over the cigarette to the brunette. Eren sulks, even in a more childish way than Armin does. Somehow, after what happened, he becomes much more expressive. And you wonder if he had always been like this from the start but you hadn't been able to notice this side of him until now. “Now, now, boys," you say. "No need to look so upset. You’ll find another set of boobs tomorrow, I’m sure.”

"Yeah, okay," Jean snorts, brooding in his own way.

“A week,” Eren states, startling you both. “We still got a week, right? There’s still a lot amount of sex we can do until then.”

You're left dumbfounded before you titter, “That’s true, I guess. No strings attached?”

Eren, chewing on his lip, slides his hand underneath the cover, moving it closer to yours. You feel his pinky grazing tentatively against your own before you lay out your palm and he intertwines your fingers with his. Smiling sheepishly to himself, he says, "No strings attached."

You feel your heart warmed by the sight. Averting your gaze to see the other man, you toss him the same question. "What about you, Mr. Kirstein? Are you in?"

He dramatically sighs, shrugging. “Well, I mean, if you insist."

And when you laugh, Eren can taste it with his lips. When you drift away to sleep, Jean protects you with his arms.

And tomorrow...

Well, let's see what happens next.

***

This was long as fuck I'm so sorry, but hey HC time!

imagine idol ren dancing like this:

His outfits on the stage:

This video right here is literally how I imagine idol!ren to look like (the hair, the outfit, the way he dances, his expressions, his BODY ROLLS)

youtube

Idol!Jean's solo stage be like (is this magic mike LMAO):

youtube

The kind of fanservice EreJean do on stage:

Giving my biggest thanks and kisses to Sandra, Joli, Coi and Ben for reading this for me beforehand and giving me input/feedback as always. I love you girls ❤️❤️❤️

Tagging:

@l6ffys @vivi-et @halparkebitch @fwess @littlemochi @thebeardedmoon @didiyogo @coyloves @erenbean @tehehebri @justasketch @infnteen @naiomiwinchester @spiderlingh @doyochii @ahornyenby @aengelren @sakurashell @the-princess-button @resonancesoul @blrqt @cacapeepee @persyhange @jaegersdiary @erentoes @trashgremlin36 @meed18 @j0livi0ni @snowflake-201 @jaymihawk @eva-gates @claudevonstrukesblog @sofijaeger @rinsie @blanccofiie @ereninbunu @natanialora @khinjito @ackersune @watermelon-online @tropicsoda @claudevonstrukesblog @damselofblueroses @alexackrman @bblgumz @jurrasicpork @erenjaegercult Thanks for reading, lovelies ❤️

#AoT smut #Eren Yeager x reader #Jean Kirstein x reader #Eren Yeager #Jean Kirstein #omg THIS was just-#askdksjl🥴#MAJOR 🥜 ALERT!!!#Also plot-to-smut ratio lies right in the sweet spot 😌👌🏾

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