#and I literally dropped everything to warn them

[sillymommy6969]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝖄OURS TRULY

Manon Bannerman x actor!fem!reader

summary: being an actress can be pretty demanding, and manon's pretty understanding of the things that came along with your career, but lately it’s feeling a little too real

warnings: slight!angst, some sm posts, jealous!manon, one mean comment, kinda used rachel zegler as a face claim only because i used those pics for the smau, harsh language

Being an actress came with lots of benefits; you travelled all around the world to film in beautiful, exotic locations, you get to meet a lot of amazing new people within and beyond the industry, and you get to do what you were most passionate about. But, it also meant every aspect of your life would be examined under a microscope, on and off set, and you would be made to post or say things that weren’t true just for the sake of promotions or publicity.

You absolutely loathed that part of your job. It has driven a wedge between your relationship with so many ex-boyfriends or girlfriends and even some friendships.

When you met Manon at your good friend and fellow Euphoria costar, Dominic’s New Year’s Eve party, you were absolutely entranced by this walking shred of heaven. Back then, she had not joined Dream Academy yet and she was just in between modelling gigs. You couldn’t help yourself, grabbing her hand and kissing the back of it. You had to get to know her better, and by the end of the night you were leaving Dominic’s condo and stumbling into yours with her pressed against you.

When you begun dating, you made sure Manon knew the extents of your career. You were blunt, dating an actress wasn’t always going to be easy, especially with the way tabloids write their own narrative about your life.

a) Your job entailed partial nudity at times; you’ve been in enough movies or series to know women are always asked to strip in front of cameras. You weren’t exactly the biggest fan, but it wasn’t your artistic choice to make.

b) Your job entailed lots of cameras and eyes constantly trained on you, meaning they would spin stories and insane theories out of the most ridiculously insignificant detail. Nothing the tabloids report can ever be trusted.

c) Your job entailed doing things with your costars, i.e. kissing, making out, filming intimate scenes, etc. As somebody in the industry, you have become so desensitized by the concept of faking things for art. But you understood not many people understood the gravity of everything your career demanded from you, and it can cause lots of issues emotionally.

Manon was very reluctant about these three rules at first, skeptical of how bad things had to be for you to drop this on her the first month in. But then she got on dream academy, she then successfully debuted in Katseye, and she, herself, experienced a lot of the things you fell victim to. She understood and accepted much more than she had to because she loved you, she really did, and to anybody with eyes, the two of you were absolutely smitten.

Recently, you were onset of a new project you were cast in—a remake of Romeo & Juliet but with a modern edge to it. Everything was going good, internal reviews for what, and as you wrapped up filming, you were asked to post an ‘wrap dump’ to promote the movie. Your manager presented you with a selection of photos, and you compiled them into a post.

Liked by kitconnor, lararajj & 821,440 others

ynln Can’t wait for ya’ll to see us in six months <3

19 hours ago

user01 THE FIRST SLIDE HELLO???????

user02 yall stronger than me i would’ve fallen in love

dominicfike aye get it sis

ynln you really do be everywhere but the studio

dominicfike kys

user03 has anybody seen the leaked kiss

user04 YES OMG

user05 they’re such a theatre kid power couple

user03 DID YALL SEE KIT GRABBING HER FACE

user06 you can’t convince me they’re not tgt

user07 Is this a hard launch I’m sobbing

user08 girl you ever heard of marketing 😭😭

user09 no they’re dating

user10 THEYRE LITERALLY NOT??

user11 guys y/n’s dating manon rmb not kit

user12 they never confirmed tho so maybe it’s kit

user13 @user12 Denial is a river in Egypt…

You didn’t think much about the post, getting out of your makeup from the day before hitching a ride home with your manager. You had a couple hours to freshen up and get ready before the wrap party that night, and you were very excited to have invited Manon as your plus one.

It was one of those rare days your girlfriend had a day off that matched your schedule. She had her reservations about being seen or photographed with you at such a public event, but you assured her everything was going to be cast and crew only.

Back at her dorm, Manon was doing her makeup on the floor of her room. She had the room to herself, Lara invited some of the girls home for the weekend with her—which meant Daniela was gone as well. Only Sophia and Yoonchae opted to stay home, wanting to spend the free time they had shopping for decorations to liven up their room. She was nervous, to say the least, about meeting all the professional filmmakers and famed actors and directors you worked with every day.

A knock on her door sounded through the music blasting.

“Yo, Manon, you getting ready to go soon?” When she turned her head to catch a glimpse of Sophia poking her head through the doorway, the leader was focused on the phone in her hand, strolling in to stand behind the older member.

“Yeah, heading over to Y/N’s in fifteen-ish… why?”

“You seen Y/N’s latest instagram post?” Sophia asked.

Manon shook her head. She hadn’t been on social media since the night before, she slept in, waking up late and immediately had to throw herself into the shower to get ready.

“Well, you gotta see this shit.”

Sophia knealt, holding her phone out for Manon to peep at the tweet she had pulled up onscreen. The way she snatched the filipina’s phone was nothing short of urgent and stunned.

It wasn’t like Manon hadn’t seen you kiss your costars onscreen, she’s been to many movies watching you lead in a film. But this, watching this bag of bulging muscles in a tank touch you where she usually did, your hands grabbing his face as the two of you made out on a bed?

Manon had never, and I mean ever, felt such rage. She was experiencing so many emotions at once; some rationality, some discomfort, but mostly an overwhelming sense of rage.

She didn’t care. She was a jealous girlfriend. And she can say she understands as many times as she could, but she hated every single time you’d kiss, touch or feel anybody but her. She knew it was what you did for a living, but she couldn’t shed the way she felt like smashing Kit Connor’s face through a wall.

“That’s a wild ass movie your girl’s making,” Sophia scoffed, in attempts to lighten the tension.

Manon’s jaw clenched, shoving the phone back into Sophia’s chest before standing. She was now sad she had gotten her hair and outfit done all nice, because she didn’t feel like showing up to an event thrown somewhat in your honour.

“Manon…? Manon!” Sophia called after the Ghanaian woman, but she had already grabbed her purse and left the house.

When you came out of the shower, your hair wet and your body glistening, you were taken aback by the sudden pounding you heard from your condo’s door. You quickly put on your panties and one of Manon’s oversized shirts. Slipping into your slippers, you stumbled out your bathroom and to the door. Just a couple feet away from it, another round of thrusts throw you off. “I’m coming, Jesus Christ!”

Swinging your door open, you were ready to rip into whomever so disrespectfully made their presence known, but upon seeing your girlfriend, dressed all nice and looking pretty, your expression softened. “Baby, I thought you were coming—!”

She held a hand over your mouth, pushing you into your home before kicking the door shut behind her.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Manz, what the fu—?”

“Are you fucking Kit Connor?” She immediately barked, a hand on your bare chest, backing you up towards the couch. “I get myself all nice and pretty for your party and I find out you’re macking this hunk like there’s no tomorrow?”

Your hand rested on your chest, before you were knocked onto your ass. You glanced up at your dining girlfriend, her lips pursed and her sharp brows knit together.

“Woah, woah, woah, what’re we talking about here?”

She yanked her phone out her pocket, her fingers jabbing at her screen as she pulled up your instagram page. The photos you and Kit took on set was harshly shoved into your face, you gently cradled her hand with both of yours, carefully pulling it back so you could see. She then harshly pulled her hand back, pulling up Pop Base’s tweet of a leaked onset photo.

“When the fuck did you even get these photos taken? I mean, having to do minimal stuff for work is one thing, but letting him carry you and grab your ass and your thighs and getting all close and intimate behind the scenes when you’re not even on fucking camera is so far over the line, Y/N.” she rambled, “Then I have to see you basically dry hump this man?”

You sighed, knowing it was another one of the older woman’s jealous episodes. You tried being more understanding, to listen and calm her down, knowing it was a consequence of your job.

“Baby, please, take a deep breath, okay?” You gently grab the phone from her hand, setting it down on the couch beside you. You entertained your fingers, kissing her knuckles. “What did I tell you about the rules, hm?”

With a pout, Manon’s voice dropped low, “You’re a public figure and need to get intimate with coworkers a lot.”

You hummed, nodding. “That’s right. And y’know what the best way to promote a new movie is?”

She rolled her eyes, staring away. “Dating scandals.”

“Yes, baby, dating scandals.” You tugged at her hands, pulling her down to take a seat. Her body slumped to sit on your lap, her eyes still refusing to meet yours as you fixed a loose curl from her temple. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Manz. I never do things I don’t need to. I took those pictures on a press day a while back when Kit and I were asked to do ‘behind the scenes’ photos, none of it is real.”

“Yeah, well, it looked pretty real when you were eating his face on that bed,” she huffed, “What was I supposed to think?”

You chuckled, nodding. You wrapped your arms around her waist, pulling both of you to lie back into the couch. “I know, I know, but I’m not going to the party as Kit’s date, right? He’s not the one I’ve been waiting to see all day.” You gestured at your dripping appearance, “That’s why I wanted you to come in twenty, so I could be ready and beautiful just for you, baby.”

Manon scoffed, “Yeah, you’re lookin’ real rough right now.”

You playfully slapped her at the joke, “I promise you, I am yours, truly. I don’t even care about Kit, because all I think about when I’m at work is coming home and getting to see my ridiculously beautiful and sexy girlfriend.”

That statement seemed to win Manon over, her hands coming up to cradle your cheeks. “You better swear on your life.”

“I swear on this life and the next. I love you, Manz.”

“Mmh, I love you more,” she hummed, leaning in to kiss you softly. When the two of you pulled apart, she sneered, “Is that how you kiss him too?”

You clicked your tongue, a hand reaching under her thigh to move her body so she was straddling you. “Do you really wanna know? I’ll show you exactly what Kit and I do when nobody’s looking.” you spat, earning a gasp from Manon when your hand cupped the back of her neck, yanking her down into you for a heated kiss.

It was a long night of entertaining producing executives and crew members, but you were very happy to have your girlfriend meet the people you’ve been working with for months. When it came time for you to give Kit a hug in greeting though, Manon made sure her disapproval was made known.

You had an upcoming role in the third season of the White Lotus, you were not excited about how the Ghanaian woman would react to the scenes on that show.

[multiheadcanons]

MERCS AND ANGER

scout: explosive like a firecracker. kinda boring from a distance but a danger in your hands. you really don’t want to be the guy he’s mad at, and probably not like a good friend of the guy either. otherwise the absolute grudge is really funny because he’s so creatively aggressive with how he insults people. and he doesn’t let shit go. it takes him a good long while before he’s ready to drop a feud. however, firecrackers, if you’re fast enough and ballsy enough, can be put out. you’ve maybe got a minute to take back what you say and all will be just fine. he might be annoyed with you for a couple of days, but you can bounce back.

soldier: explosive like a rocket. don’t give him an insult he has to think about. he’s gonna get madder that he had to think about it and he’s gonna come and kick your ass until he’s bored. and he will never get bored. has tried in incremental amounts to not get that mad anymore; nobody has a good time when he’s that mad. also a big shit talker, but the better term is “war decree”, because getting him angry is declaring war on him. and he is very frank with what the plan is when it comes to the attack. can, has tried, and actually has on two occasions involved the team in revenge plans. i don’t know how to quickly disable a rocket; so i would hope you do.

pyro: pyro will take their anger out on the battlefield. that’s when pyro gets weird and nobody wants to be around them at the base because they’re being weird on the battlefield. but at the base they don’t act any different. because normally the team does not anger pyro. sometimes pyro wakes up and is fueled with rage. at anything. at everything. sometimes they get so mad at themselves, and they don’t know why they get so mad. they’re just being themselves, as they were yesterday, and the day before, and the month prior. their imagination can buffer that with making the enemy team seem… squishier. fun to throw around because they just return back to their shape. they enjoy that. that’s really fun.

heavy: here’s the thing; heavy is a good and not messy guy, so heavy will make all efforts to discuss any problem he has with anyone, and does expect vice versa. if you’ve got a problem with him, his door and ears are open. he’s willing to talk about it. however, do not mistake that for weakness. i mean, come on. literally look at him. do you want to push him there if he’s willing to discuss it? really?

demo: demo will give you one (1) opportunity to course correct. after that you’re on his shit list. he’s got a physical list, a couple of pages, front to back, of peoples full government names, a glued on ID picture, and their most current address. not enough names on the list for a journal yet but he’s always willing to add. and getting on his shit list is permanent. you are not to speak to him. you are not to be within his eyesight. and if you are, there’s a problem. and you’ll get one (1) opportunity to course correct before it gets physical.

engineer: engie doesn’t get messy with his anger unless you take it there. and if you take it there, buddy that’s a game he loves to play. already has issues with people being in his space, so frankly if he’s mad at you, or getting to be upset with you, he will tell you, point blank “get somewhere away from me. immediately. don’t let me see you again today.” and within 24 hours he will be okay and ready to talk to you, and you can attempt to patch things up. but if you keep bugging him and keep bugging him and keep bugging him… he will absolutely have a conniption. he will yell. he will get in your face. however, that has nothing on his grudges. talk about a stew. he will sit on it. sit on it for days. process it while tinkering with his machines. and if he decides that what you did truly wasn’t forgivable? there is no one who can warn you about the storm coming your way. he makes your life miserable and you will never see him do it. first of all, anything you own with a wire is getting cut. batteries stolen, sockets with broken off fork teeth in them. he does not care if your whole house goes up in flames. he simply does not. so don’t ask. but also, he’ll disable your garage. he’ll put bleach in your engine. he’ll funnel your muffler into your AC if he felt justified in it. and you don’t know; nobody knows how he’s accomplishing it. and he won’t tell.

medic: medic, like pyro, takes his aggression out on the battlefield. except the doctor is worse because he’s just in general one to express his anger explosively. like you can’t miss the way his face will contort at you when you’ve pissed him off. petty things will earn a sorry soul the privilege to be a free fill of the doctor’s quota. he’ll go out of his way to find someone on a map so he can hack them to pieces. but when he’s just… angry, just wakes up angry; angry at himself because he knows if he wanted to he could change; he could have changed, he just didn’t want to, still doesn’t want to. some people call that regret. but he just gets mad. he pockets pyro those days. he pockets pyro when pyro is angry too. it’s always been a good time for him. he’ll feed into their delusions; yelling in their ear “don’t they look soft? don’t they look like they could stand some force?” and pyro gets so excited for it. they will rack up body after body after body, and normally they both would laugh. they would cackle. they would taunt their corpses. but pyro is the only one laughing. medic stands there and watches. and they go to the next one. and the next one. and the next one. and medic doesn’t laugh. but he’ll assure pyro he’s having fun. he’s having the time of his life.

sniper: sniper doesn’t really get mad. he gets annoyed, he gets irritated, and he talks mad shit about whoever he’s annoyed or irritated with; but he doesn’t ever get mad. because when he does he’s ready to fight and he does not care who is in the way. there’s no other way of putting it, he’ll beat the brakes off you and lord help whoever’s trying to hold him back because they will not be treated kindly either. so he has worked very hard to not make anger an immediate emotion.

spy: spy also does not get mad, because any situation he could possibly get mad at was a situation he didn’t predict and account for. and that’s on nobody else but him. spy does not normally get above extreme irritation before it becomes divinely gifted vitriolic annoyance. which he voices. loudly. to anyone that will listen. it is his sermon; you are a son of a bitch and should never be trusted again. and he spreads rumors like a motherfucker. and everyone spreads them?? it genuinely makes no sense when his teammates know this man is a liar. these men are just messy, because there’s really no way they could actually believe that scout’s hair was a well done toupee. THEY LIVE WITH SCOUT. THEY LIVE WITH SPY. THEY SEE WHAT THESE MEN DO EVERYDAY. they’re just messy and love gossip because there’s nobody else to talk to except for their scheduled monthly off day, which they normally get called in for anyway!

[arilevenatz]

Ideal Trip

Pairing: San x reader

Genre: Action, fluff

Word count: 15.2k (💀)

Warnings: San is kinda not a nice man at first, but then he is!, blood, monsters getting mutilated, but it's for like 5 seconds so don't worry.

AN: I legit had a dream of this. This dream happened after crazy form teaser pics dropped and I had this in my drafts for that many days. I hope y'all like this as well. Please consider liking and pls reblog as it motivates me to write more!

The school that we are currently standing in front of is called 'The Ideal School'. Literally, that's it's name. Talk about overestimation. Even though it is called so, it is nothing like your average good school.

You see, it's an old school. Older than I can remember. Heck, my father was a student at this school.

And we came here to give an exam, a Mock test in particular. Some of our friends applied for this. Well, their parents did. And me you ask? I was here because, and these are my mom's words, "you will give the exam because all of your friends are giving it".

Yeah me and dad thought it was bullshit.

But as both of us are scared of her shouting and making the house a circus, I decided to give it.

And so here we are, sitting inside one of the classrooms on the ground floor. My classmates were there, as well as students from other schools.

The walls here are really old, covered in writings that stretch across the walls, doors, and windows. It feels so different from my school, and I can’t help but find it a bit strange.

Time passed and we were just chatting when all of a sudden there was this commotion in the corridor.

Us being curious little kids we went outside. We somehow got to know that a boy has been found sneaking in the canteen and going through the food stash.

I don't know why, but all of us went there. Why? To see the commotion there? Tsk, kids.. where is the canteen?

Reaching the canteen, we saw that the child who had dared to sneak in was being scolded. The teacher was saying something about punishing the kid. The kid, no older than 10, looked traumatized by the screaming teacher.

They are pretty strict with this" I asked one of my friends.

"I wouldn't last a day here" she replied with a chuckle.

I heard one of my other classmates say something but before that a high pitched sound pierced my ears.

My hands instinctively flew to my ears as black spots began to creep into my vision. And then, everything went dark.

Aw come on I came here to give a test not to pass out. Get up you weak ass bitch.

You do wake up, but not where you expect. This isn’t The Ideal. It’s your school. The one four stations away.

What. The. Hell.

The bell rings. The freaking bell.

You try to calm yourself, but panic bubbles up. You’re in your classroom, lying on one of the benches. Groggily, you push yourself up using your elbows and glance around.

Beside you, someone stirs.

“Wake up,” you mutter, shaking her.

“Five more minutes,” she grumbled.

“This isn’t your house! We’re at school!”

“School?!”

She bolt upright, eyes wide and frantic, looking more like a confused puppy than anything else.

The two of you quickly realize you’re in your classroom. Familiar, but something about it feels… off.

“Should we go out?” she ask softly, looking at the door.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

You peek out first. The hallway is unsettlingly quiet. Too quiet. Something feels very, very wrong.

The two of you head to the neighboring classroom, where your other friends sit cluelessly at their desks.

“Surprise, motherfuckers,” you announce.

“Ah!”

“So, what’s the deal?” you ask, ignoring their startled expressions.

“The stork?” one of them jokes, earning her a glare sharp enough to cut steel.

You sigh. "We need to figure this out. Let’s go.”

As the defacto leader of your little group, your friends all look at you for guidance. You don’t remember volunteering for the job, but it’s become second nature by now.

The layout of the school flashes in your mind—there’s the main building, the field, the stage at the far end, and the smaller two-story building beside it, home to the singing room. It’s always been your favorite spot.

Stepping outside, you’re greeted by chaos.

No, worse than chaos. Something you can’t explain.

Students, rows upon rows of them, march silently across the school grounds like lifeless puppets. Their faces are blank, their movements robotic.

And suddenly, you’re alone.

You whirl around. Where are they? Your friends who were just right here. You rack your brain, desperate to remember, but all you get are fragments: the classroom, the field, the students, their uniforms.

But the uniforms are wrong. These kids aren’t wearing your school uniform. They’re dressed in plain white—head to toe.

A chill runs down your spine.

You look down at yourself. Your uniform’s still intact: white shirt, blue skirt, tie. No jacket, though. Why the hell didn’t the school provide winter coats? It’s freezing.

Your breath comes out in shaky puffs as you call out for your friends.

Nothing.

The silent students turn to look at you, their blank faces unnerving.

“What are you looking at?” you mutter, backing away instinctively.

Before you realize it, you’re standing in the middle of the field. How did you get here? Your legs feel like they’re moving on their own.

Your mind races. This has to be a nightmare. Right?

Your feet carry you toward the singing room, up the stairs of the two-story building. Maybe it’s your love for music—or the connection you’ve always had with the music teacher—but something about this place feels… safe.

The door to the music room looms in front of you, larger than usual. Slowly, you push it open.

Inside, your teacher sits at the piano, but something is horribly wrong.

He’s completely black. Not in a racial sense—his entire body is an inky void, like a shadow brought to life. The contrast is so stark it makes your chest tighten.

You stagger back, trying to be as silent as possible, but the universe seems to hate you. Your shoe scrapes against the floor.

The shadow turns to face you.

Your breath catches. For a moment, it doesn’t move. Slowly, you back away, step by step, until you’re near the stairs.

And then, it bolts toward you.

Your legs carry you down the stairs, sprinting as fast as they can. The ‘krt krt’ sound of the thing chasing you sends shivers down your spine.

You run across the field, not daring to look back. The students don’t react, as if this is all normal to them.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you collapse onto the stairs, exhaustion seeping into your bones. You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to shield your face as if it’ll protect you from whatever is coming. The sound of your own ragged breathing fills your ears, but it’s soon overtaken by another noise.

It’s faint at first—a low, guttural growl, followed by the unsettling ‘krt krt’ sound that echoes in your mind. Your chest tightens. You don’t dare look up.

It’s here.

You brace yourself, every nerve in your body screaming for you to move, but your muscles refuse to obey. Your breath catches as the sound grows louder, closer, until you swear you can feel its presence looming over you.

This is it.

And then, it happens.

A sharp, metallic sound slices through the air, followed by an agonized screech that makes your blood run cold. You flinch, instinctively pulling your arms tighter around your head. The screeching stops abruptly, replaced by silence so heavy it feels like the world itself is holding its breath.

When you dare to look up, your eyes widen.

There, standing a few feet away, is someone you’ve never seen before.

The first thing you notice is the knife in his hand—long, sleek, and dripping with blood. The blade glints faintly under the dim light, a cruel contrast to the dark substance staining it.

Then your gaze travels upward.

His silhouette is sharp and commanding, radiating a quiet intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. He's tall, with a posture that exudes confidence and danger all at once. But it’s his face that steals your breath away—delicate yet fierce, almost otherworldly. His features are so striking it’s hard to tell if he's beautiful or terrifying.

But the most jarring detail is his hair.

Bright fiery red with black highlights, with contrast to his pale face, the colors clash in a way that should look ridiculous but instead feels hauntingly perfect. The contrast is mesmerizing, drawing your eyes like moths to a flame. You don’t even like red, but on them, it feels… powerful.

He glanced down at the lifeless black figure sprawled across the ground, his expression unreadable. Blood pools beneath it, the deep crimson stark against the pale concrete.

For a moment, it’s like time itself has frozen.

Your savior turns, his piercing gaze finally meeting yours.

It’s only for a second, but it’s enough to knock the air out of your lungs. His eyes—sharp, unyielding—cut through you like the blade they wield. There’s something chilling about the way he looks at you, as if he's staring straight into your soul.

You open your mouth to speak, but no sound comes out.

Before you can process what’s happening, he turns away.

“Wait!” you call out, scrambling to your feet despite the ache in your legs.

He doesn't stop.

You stumble forward, your mind racing with a thousand questions. Who is he? How did he know you were here? What even was that thing he just killed?

But before you can take another step, something cold wraps around your ankle, yanking you down with a force that sends you crashing to the ground.

The floor wasn’t soft, and neither was your chin. Pain radiated through your jaw as you lay there, groaning. “It hurts like a bitch,” you muttered, clutching your face.

When you glanced down, though, any complaints about the fall evaporated.

There, gripping your ankle, was a dismembered hand.

Cold, pale fingers dug into your skin, unmoving, yet somehow alive.

A guttural scream tore from your throat, raw and uncontrolled. You kicked instinctively, but it held firm. Panic rose, choking you, as you clawed at the ground to pull yourself away.

Before you could react further, like a thunderbolt, the guy reappeared. He raised the blade high and brought it down with a sickening crunch.

Again.

And again.

The hand was reduced to a mushy, unrecognizable mess as he hacked at it relentlessly. Blood splattered across the floor and your legs, and the wet, squelching noise made bile rise in your throat.

“Stop! Stop, it’s gone!” you wanted to scream, but your voice refused to come.

Finally, he crouched down, prying the mangled remains from your ankle. His fingers worked quickly, efficiently, peeling the cold digits away.

He stood up, wiping the blood from his hands on his pants, and turned to leave without a word.

“Wait!”

Your voice cracked, desperate, but it was enough to make him stop.

He froze, mid-step, but didn’t turn around.

Scrambling to your feet, you dusted yourself off and stumbled after him.

“Excuse me, mister!” you called, your voice trembling. “Can you please tell me how to get out of here?”

He turned then, slowly, and his gaze locked onto yours. He was taller than you by at least half a head, and his dark eyes bore an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

“You…” His voice was deep, rough around the edges. “How are you talking?”

You blinked. Is he high or something?

“What?”

“And your clothes,” he continued, as if you hadn’t spoken. “They’re different. Have you… escaped the process?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you snapped, your frustration mounting. “I just want to get out of here.”

“Are you from this school?” His tone sharpened, almost accusing. “Answer me.”

“Yes, but—”

Before you could finish, his hand shot out and grabbed your arm.

His grip was like iron, unyielding, and he started dragging you forward without hesitation.

“Hey!” you yelped, tugging at his hand. “Let me go! What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled against his hold. “Listen, mister! I don’t know what’s going on, okay? I just woke up here, and I don’t know what the hell happened! Please, let me go!”

He stopped abruptly, spinning around to face you. His piercing gaze made your stomach churn.

“So…” He spoke slowly, as if piecing something together. “You haven’t been processed.”

“I don’t know what that means!”

His eyes raked over you, up and down.

Did he just check me out? you thought, outraged. Whoop, whoop, that’s the sound of the police!

“Follow me,” he said curtly, turning away.

You stood your ground. “No. How do I know I can trust you?”

He chuckled, the sound low and humorless. “Do you see anyone else here you trust more?”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. Damn. He had a point.

“My name is San,” he offered. “What’s yours?”

You hesitated.

“It’s fine if you don’t trust me yet,” he added, almost kindly. “But if you want to survive, you’ll follow me.”

Against your better judgment, you nodded. Your questions could wait—surviving took priority.

As you walked behind him, you glanced down at your legs and winced. Blood streaked your socks and shoes, the sticky warmth making your stomach churn.

Noticing your hesitation, San spoke without looking back. “Where’s the nearest bathroom?”

“Huh? Oh, the men’s bathroom is—”

“Does gender matter?” he interrupted. “Just tell me the closest one.”

You sighed and led him to the bathroom in the main building. He pushed the door open and strode inside, heading straight for the sink.

“Come here,” he said, gesturing at the ground in front of him.

You hesitated. “Me?”

“Yes.”

Reluctantly, you stepped closer.

“Take off your shoes and socks,” he instructed.

“What? Why?”

“They’re covered in blood,” he said simply. “And if ‘they’ track us by your bloody footprints?”

You swallowed hard. “who are they?”

His lips quirked, almost amused. “You really have no idea, do you?”

You shook your head, confused and unnerved.

“Take them off,” he said again. “Or I’ll do it for you.”

Grumbling under your breath, you crouched down, slipping off your shoes and socks, your fingers trembling slightly. San grabbed them and rinsed the shoes under the tap.

“The socks are ruined,” he muttered, tossing them aside.

He straightened up and glanced at you. “Wait here.”

Before you could protest, he was gone.

As the silence pressed down on you, the weight of your situation finally hit. You slumped onto the edge of the sink counter, your legs weak.

What if you never got out of here?

“Are you okay?”

San’s voice startled you, and you looked up to see him holding a pair of sneakers.

“They’re not your size, but they’ll have to do,” he said, handing them to you.

You slid off the counter and slipped them on. They were too big, but at least they were clean.

“Let’s go,” he said, heading for the door.

Something about him felt off—his protectiveness, his calm demeanor in the face of chaos. Why was he helping you?

You didn’t know, but for now, you decided to trust him. You didn’t have much of a choice.

San was overjoyed. Even the strongest word for happiness couldn’t capture the overwhelming elation surging through him.

He had found a human. A real, living human—someone other than himself. And not just any human, but a student from the very school they stood in.

Finally, he could go back to his family.

Well, a makeshift family, but a family nonetheless.

A group of people who had taught him that the blood of the covenant truly was thicker than the water of the womb.

He cherished them, loved them, and would do anything to protect them. Most of all, he missed them.

Every fiber of his being screamed for him to grab this girl and force her to unlock the path. He could taste freedom—it was right there within his grasp.

But San was no brute. He prided himself on being patient and calculating. He’d use this girl the right way, ensuring they both got out safely.

Still, a pang of guilt gnawed at him. She wasn’t just a tool; she was just as lost as he was, maybe even more so. Her confusion and fear were written all over her face.

But a man had to do what a man had to do.

“Hongjoong hyung,” he murmured to himself, his voice barely audible, “I’m coming home. Just wait a little longer.”

The sound of his own voice brought a small chuckle to his lips. Damn, I must sound like a lunatic, talking to myself like this. But it didn’t matter. He had a plan, and nothing would stop him now.

---

I had been walking for what felt like an eternity. Either this guy was playing some elaborate prank on me, or he really did live on the other side of the universe.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, we stopped in front of a room.

I recognized it immediately—this used to be the teachers’ lounge.

Now, though, it looked like he had claimed it as his own.

The room was cluttered but strangely organized. In one corner, several of those stark white uniforms the kids outside were wearing hung in neat rows.

The shelves, once filled with papers and notebooks, were now stocked with weapons and strange equipment I couldn’t identify.

A large table occupied one corner, covered in maps, papers, and a small computer that looked like it had been swiped from the computer lab.

On the opposite side, there was a pile of clothes and a small mattress on the floor. A mattress. Since when did our school have those? Where did he even get it?

“It’s getting late. You should sleep,” he said, his tone casual.

I stayed rooted at the doorway. The thought of sleeping in the same room as a man—a man I had just met—made my skin crawl.

“I don’t want to,” I replied, crossing my arms.

“Okay, then don’t,” he said, shrugging as he made his way to the mattress.

And that was it. Just like that.

Feeling slightly foolish, I shuffled over to a chair by the table and sat down. That’s when I realized just how cold it was. My legs were freezing, and my arms weren’t faring much better.

I curled up in the chair, hugging my knees in a futile attempt to stay warm.

I just wanted to sleep—sleep and maybe never wake up.

“You can wear my jacket,” his voice broke the silence.

Startled, I glanced at him. He wasn’t even looking at me, his arm draped over his eyes as he lay on the mattress.

“Is it washed?” I asked skeptically.

He let out a low chuckle. “Seriously? That’s your first concern? You’re freezing, and you’re worried about whether it’s clean?”

“Well, yeah,” I muttered.

“Do you want it or not?”

“Fine, I’ll take it,” I said, too cold to argue further.

Wrapped in his jacket, I was finally warm. The thick material cocooned me, and the lingering scent of something earthy—him—filled my senses.

It was so comforting that, before I knew it, I had passed out, slumped over the table with my arms folded under my head.

"Bro, I think San has company."

"What the fuck do you mean?"

Inside a makeshift room—cramped and chaotic with tables, equipment, holo screens, and all the clutter that a group of overgrown boys would gather—two figures were hard at work.

One of them, silver-haired and deeply focused, sat hunched over his task. Across the room, a black-haired guy with glasses was multitasking, eating a chocolate bar while working with one hand.

"Geez, stop eating while working, Wooyoung."

"I do what I fucking want, Yunho."

Yunho rolled his eyes, muttering a quiet "whatever" before cupping his hands around his mouth like someone yelling into a canyon.

"I think San has companyyy!" he sang in a childish tone.

Immediately, there was the sound of something crashing. Yunho looked up to see Wooyoung scrambling over boxes to get to him.

“What the fuck do you mean, bro?"

"Don't believe me? Just watch."

Wooyoung peered at the hologram and saw it: a red dot labeled "San," but beside it, another red dot marked "Unknown."

"You think it's a processed kid?" Wooyoung asked hesitantly.

"Doesn't seem like it. If it was processed, San wouldn’t let it stay in his room for long."

"True..."

"Hello, hello."

The two boys turned toward the door, where two figures entered the room. The first, a man with brown hair in a suit, strode in confidently. Behind him, a taller man with black hair streaked with light brown highlights followed, also suited up, both with guns in hand.

"Did you kill them, Mingi?" Yunho asked.

"Ask the maknae."

"For the love of god, hyung, I’m old enough! Stop babying me," the younger one whined, despite his protests sounding anything but mature.

"Jongho-ya, did you kill them like Hongjoong hyung asked?" Wooyoung teased, giggling.

"Yes," Jongho replied proudly.

"Aww, our Jongho’s all grown up! Come here and give hyung a hug!" Wooyoung exclaimed opening his arms and skipping toward the youngest.

"Nuh-uh, hyung. I’ve got a gun in my hand. I will rat ta-ta-ta you up."

"Wooyoung, calm down!" Yunho scolded.

While the three bickered, Mingi moved to the hologram and stared at it.

"Um, I don’t know much about your holo stuff, but I’m pretty sure someone’s in San’s room right now."

The three of them stopped, looking at him in disbelief.

"What? Am I not allowed to be smart?"

"No, it’s not that, hyung. It’s just...you were never smart to begin with," Jongho muttered, earning nods of agreement from Yunho and Wooyoung.

"Wow, the disrespect! I just helped you kill those players!"

"Okay, but jokes aside," Yunho said with urgency, "San really does have someone in his room. Should we tell Hongjoong hyung and Seonghwa hyung?"

"Tell me what?"

Speak of the devil.

Hongjoong entered the room, light brown hair slightly tousled. Though shorter than the others, his aura made it impossible to underestimate him. He was flanked by Seonghwa, the group’s oldest and de facto mom, and Yeosang, who had green hair with black stripes. Although he looked like a Greek statue, his strength is not to be underestimated.

"Tell me what, Yunho?" Hongjoong asked again, his voice firm.

"San has some company," Wooyoung blurted out.

"Ooh, really?" Yeosang chimed in, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Yes," Yunho confirmed, walking toward the hologram and shooing Mingi aside as the others crowded around him. "If you look at this red dot, you’ll see it says 'Unknown,' which means there’s an unidentified entity with San. It could be someone processed, but honestly, I doubt it. San’s not that reckless."

"I mean, he kinda is," Seonghwa remarked dryly.

"Aren’t you all?" Jongho muttered, earning glares.

"Enough, everyone," Hongjoong commanded. "Let’s focus. Wooyoung, Yunho, can we contact San right now?"

"We could," Wooyoung said hesitantly, "but wouldn’t that alert the other person?"

"Wooyoung," Hongjoong said slowly, "our priority is to ensure San comes back safely, whatever it takes. Let’s not overthink it."

"Okay, then I’ll—"

A sudden piercing sound emanated from the hologram. Yunho’s fingers flew over the controls as he opened a new tab, revealing San’s face. He was trying to contact them.

When San woke up, it was dark outside. He looked around, and the girl was still fast asleep, slumped over the table like a rock.

He walked toward the table and sat across from her, then grabbed the computer and started typing away quickly. He had recently found a way to communicate with his family, but it was only for a limited time.

"Hello?"

"Oh, hello San! Got company?"

Straight to the point, just like his best friend.

"Kinda, yeah."

"Who is it, San?" came the voice of the leader, one of his hyungs.

"A girl."

"OoooOooo—"

"Please shut up wooyoung"

"San, why do you have a random girl in your nook?" Seonghwa, the oldest, asked, his voice stern.

"Hyung, guys... she’s from this school."

A brief silence followed. No one spoke, waiting for their captain's response. Soon, a sinister grin spread across the captain's face, sending an eerie vibe through the room.

"Well, tell me more about her, San."

---

Ugh, I hate waking up.

I stirred awake to the sound of rustling clothes. Looking up, I saw, surprise, surprise, that guy again.

San. I still don’t trust him. At least he didn’t do anything while I was asleep.

He was rummaging through the white outfits stacked in the corner.

He suddenly turned, as if he could sense me watching him. "You should wear this," he said, holding up one of the outfits.

"What’s wrong with what I’m wearing now?" I replied, feeling petty.

"Sure, if you want to get attacked by a processed, be my guest." He put the outfit back in its place.

Ever since I met this guy, he’s been going on and on about these “processed” things. What the hell even are they?

"I mean to ask… what is this processed thing you keep mentioning?"

He stared at me for a few seconds, then said, "Wear this. I’ll tell you as we venture out."

---

The outfit turned out to be surprisingly comfy. It was flexible and looked good too.

It was basically a white shirt, with a white jacket and a hood over it, paired with white trousers. Pretty neat.

We were walking down the stairs when he suddenly started speaking.

"This world is a post-apocalyptic world."

Well, that’s one way to start a conversation.

"The government wants to create emotionless puppets to work for them. This world is basically full of puppets—no talking, no expressing, and most importantly..."

I looked at him, waiting. What was he going to say?

"...no music or dance."

If this was a text conversation, I would’ve sent the crickets emoji. There’s no way in hell this man just said that.

"No… music?" I asked, my voice timid.

"Yes, no music. No dance either. My family and I have been trying to bring fun back into this world. But because of some technical issues, I had to stay here."

"So, you’re staying here for a reason?"

"Yes," San said, the lies sliding off his tongue. He didn’t have a choice. To go back, he had to lie. For his plan to work, he had to lie. Did he feel bad? Who knew. The process had almost taken his emotions away, but he escaped at the right time. "And since you’re here alone, why don’t you help me with my task?"

Okay, so he sounds sketchy, but it makes sense. Damn, this is harder than choosing which album to buy, and that shit is hard...

Okay, maybe he’s starting to become a little more tolerable.

"What kind of help?"

"For now, stop being a whiny kid and listen to me."

I take back everything I just said—this guy is still a bitch.

"I’m not whiny."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

I looked around and realized we were on the ground floor, near the gate of the field. It felt so strange to see it so empty.

The emptiness of the field stretched out before you, its silence almost deafening. The once-familiar grounds now felt like a foreign, lifeless expanse, devoid of the chatter, laughter, and energy that used to fill it.

San kept walking ahead, his posture straight and his steps confident, as though he had a destination in mind. You, however, lingered near the gate, staring at the field, a strange ache forming in your chest.

"Keep up," he called over his shoulder, his tone clipped. "We don't have time to waste."

Reluctantly, you followed, your footsteps echoing against the eerily quiet surroundings.

"So," you began, your voice breaking the silence. "This whole 'no music, no dance' thing... It sounds ridiculous. How does anyone even live like that?"

"They don’t. They survive," San replied without looking back.

The words hit harder than you expected. "What do you mean?"

He stopped abruptly, turning to face you. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes seemed to hold a depth of pain that made your stomach churn.

"I mean exactly that," he said. "The processed aren’t alive. They’re shells of people, controlled, used. No thoughts of their own, no emotions. Just... tools."

You shivered, though it wasn’t cold. "That’s horrifying."

"It is." His voice softened, just slightly. "That’s why my family and I were trying to change things. Music and dance... they’re not just entertainment. They’re freedom. Expression. Resistance."

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. For the first time since meeting him, you saw a glimpse of something more—a passion, a purpose that made him seem less like a cold, calculated stranger and more like someone who truly cared.

"But why you?" you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it. "Why stay behind? Why not someone else?"

San hesitated, his gaze dropping to the ground. For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t answer.

"It wasn’t supposed to be me," he admitted quietly. "But plans don’t always work out. Someone had to stay, and I was the only one who could.”

San lied straight through his teeth, the words slipping out with practiced ease. But deep down, a twinge of guilt gnawed at him. He hated deceiving you, especially when you looked at him with cautious curiosity, as though weighing whether to believe him.

He justified it to himself—he didn’t have a choice. If he told you the truth, that he was here because of a mishap, because things hadn’t gone according to plan, you’d never trust him. And trust was what he needed from you. Without it, his chances of getting back to his family, his real purpose, would slip away.

So, he buried the guilt and steeled his resolve.

You didn’t notice the flicker of hesitation in his gaze as he spoke, his voice steady and unwavering. "Helping me is the only way to survive here," he said. "Together, we can fix this world, bring back what’s been lost."

He sounded convincing, even to himself. And when you nodded, still wary but willing to listen, he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

But as the two of you walked through the quiet expanse, San’s mind drifted back to the faces of his family, their smiles, their laughter. He thought of the nights spent planning, dreaming of a world where music and dance weren’t forbidden.

He clenched his fists. Lying to you wasn’t just for him—it was for them, for everything they were fighting for. He couldn’t afford to feel guilty. Not yet.

San’s mind was racing as he led you through the eerily quiet halls of the school. He knew one thing, which was informed to him prior by the captain. The principal’s office held the item he needed—the key to returning to his realm, to his family. But there was one problem: he couldn’t enter it himself. The rules of this world were annoyingly rigid—only a student or a staff member of the school could access the office.

And that meant he needed you.

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye as you followed, your expression a mix of confusion and determination. You had no idea how critical you were to his plan. Yet, despite his guilt over using you, there was no other choice.

“The principal’s office…” he began, breaking the silence. “Do you even know where it is?”

You nod your head.

San looked relieved “That'll make things easy”

You look at him, gesturing around. “Half of here looks like it’s been taken over by… whatever you call those things.”

“Processed,” San corrected. “And they’ll make reaching the office more complicated.”

You stopped walking, folding your arms as suspicion flickered in your eyes. “Why do you even need to go there? What’s so important that it can’t wait?”

He hesitated, weighing his words carefully. “It’s something that could help us. Something that might give us a chance to survive in this place.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either.

After a few minutes of standing in silence he breaks it “We need to go somewhere to get a little information first. It's for me if you're wondering”

“Library, maybe?” you suggested.

“Good idea,” he agreed. “But the library is likely crawling with processed. We’ll have to be careful.”

The path to the library wasn’t easy. Shadows seemed to stretch unnaturally along the walls, and faint, distorted murmurs echoed through the corridors. San moved with sharp, calculated precision, motioning for you to stay close.

At one point, you almost stepped on a loose tile, but San’s arm shot out, pulling you back just as a processed shuffled by, its vacant eyes scanning the hall. The two of you froze, your breath shallow as you pressed against the wall.

The position was simply vulnerable. San’s back pressed against the wall, while yours was pressed against his chest. His one hand wrapped tightly around the front of your shoulders. Another hand held onto the knife.

Once the danger passed, you whispered, “How do you know so much about avoiding them?”

San hesitated for a moment, then replied smoothly, “I’ve been here long enough to learn their patterns. Stick with me, and you’ll be fine.”

Finally, you reached the library. The massive double doors loomed before you, slightly ajar. Inside, the faint glow of flickering lights revealed rows of dusty shelves and scattered books.

But you both knew it wouldn’t be that simple. San stepped forward, scanning the room. “Stay alert,” he warned. “The processed aren’t the only thing to worry about in places like this.”

“What else is there?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Let’s hope we don’t find out,” he muttered, his hand subtly resting on the dagger strapped to his side.

The moment you entered, the library twisted into a neon-lit maze of mirrors, the air turned cold, suffocating, like the maze itself was alive and hostile. The mirrors stretched endlessly, reflecting an infinite number of you—and none of them felt right.

“San?” you called out, panic lacing your voice.

No response.

“SAN!” This time, your voice cracked, raw and desperate.

Then you heard it—a low, guttural hiss, like the sound of something primal awakening. Your heart leapt to your throat as a shadow shifted in the reflection, something dark and unnatural slithering behind the glass.

The black void creatures emerged, their shapeless forms twisting grotesquely as they crawled from the reflections into your reality. Their hollow, inky eyes locked onto you with an intensity that froze your blood.

Your legs moved before your mind could catch up, adrenaline flooding your system. You bolted down the corridor of mirrors, each step echoing with a deafening clarity. The neon lights flickered erratically, casting jagged shadows of the creatures chasing you.

Behind you, the whispers started—low, distorted murmurs that seemed to claw at your sanity. They grew louder, overlapping, forming a cacophony of voices that sent shivers down your spine.

The maze twisted and shifted with every step you took, the mirrors rearranging themselves as if mocking your attempt to escape. You turned a corner and nearly collided with a reflection of yourself. But it wasn’t you—it was something else, something hollow-eyed and smiling eerily.

You screamed and turned the other way, but the creatures were gaining on you, their movements unnaturally fluid, like shadows dragged against their will.

“SAN!” you screamed, your voice cracking as tears streamed down your face.

“I’m here!” His voice rang out, faint and distant, but it was there.

Your chest heaved as you pushed forward, your feet pounding against the mirrored floor. You glanced back and instantly regretted it. The creatures were right behind you, their forms flickering and writhing like living nightmares. One of them lunged, its clawed appendage slicing through the air just inches from your shoulder.

A burst of neon light blinded you as you stumbled forward, crashing into a mirrored wall. The surface rippled under your touch, distorting your reflection. You turned, back pressed against the glass, as the creatures closed in.

The largest of them, a towering mass of void and shadow, loomed over you. Its hollow eyes burned with a hunger you couldn’t comprehend. Its whispers turned into a deafening roar as it lunged.

“NO!” you screamed, bracing for the impact.

But then the mirror behind you shattered, and an arm shot through the jagged shards, yanking you back with a force that knocked the breath out of you.

You tumbled to the ground, landing hard on the other side of the mirror. The air was different here, colder but less oppressive.

“Got you,” San’s voice came, low and fierce. His grip on your wrist was unyielding, and his eyes burned with determination.

“San!” you gasped, tears blurring your vision.

“Stay behind me,” he ordered, his tone sharp and commanding.

The creatures weren’t done. They began slipping through the shattered mirror, their forms reforming with a horrifying fluidity. San pulled you to your feet, his gaze darting around, calculating.

“We’re not safe yet,” he said, his voice tight. “Run!”

He pulled you along as the creatures poured into the new corridor, their shrieks echoing through the maze. You ran as fast as you could, San leading the way, his grip never faltering.

Suddenly, you both turned a corner and saw it—a door at the far end of the maze. Relief surged through you, but your hope was quickly dashed. The door wasn’t ordinary; it was made entirely of thick, reinforced glass.

San stopped beside you, his face set in grim determination. "We’re almost there. Keep moving!" he barked, grabbing your wrist and pulling you along.

The creatures shrieked behind you, their distorted forms growing closer with every second. You both skidded to a halt in front of the glass door, and San quickly examined it.

“It’s locked!” you gasped, panic rising in your throat.

“Not for long,” San muttered.

“Huh?”

Without hesitation, he stepped back, his fists clenching. Then, with a guttural yell, he slammed his fist into the glass. A web of cracks splintered across its surface, but it didn’t shatter.

The creatures were nearly upon you, their whispers turning into a deafening roar. San didn’t stop. He struck the glass again, this time with everything he had, and the door exploded into shards with a thunderous crash.

“Go!” he shouted, grabbing you by the waist.

“Wait—what are you—”

Before you could protest, San lifted you effortlessly and hurled you through the opening. You landed on the other side with a thud, scrambling to your feet just in time to see him climb up the jagged edges of the broken door, the neon lights behind him casting an almost heroic glow around his figure.

San leapt through, landing in a crouch beside you as the creatures clawed at the shattered remains of the glass. He grabbed your hand and pulled you up.

“Run,” he commanded, his voice steady despite the chaos.

You didn’t need to be told twice. Together, you sprinted away from the maze, the sounds of the creatures fading behind you as the two of you finally escaped its horrifying grasp.

Both of you stumbled out of the maze, panting heavily. The moment your feet hit solid ground, the mirrors behind you shimmered and collapsed inward, dissolving into nothingness. The silence that followed was deafening, the only sound being the ragged rhythm of your breathing.

San slammed his fist against the nearest wall, his jaw clenched tight. “Damn it! We failed!” His voice echoed through the empty library.

You flinched at his tone, but you didn’t blame him. After everything you had been through, it was hard to come to terms with failure.

San ran a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. “All of that, and we still don’t know what I needed to know. We’re wasting time we don’t have!” His eyes darkened, a rare glimpse of despair flashing through them.

You were about to try and console him when something caught your attention—a slight weight in your pocket that wasn’t there before. Your hand slipped inside, and your fingers brushed against the edges of a piece of paper.

“What the…” you murmured, pulling it out. It was old, almost fragile, the edges yellowed as if it had existed for decades. Strange symbols and scrawled writing adorned its surface.

“San,” you called softly. He didn’t respond, too busy pacing angrily.

“San,” you repeated, more firmly this time.

“What?” he snapped, turning to you, his eyes sharp.

You held up the paper. “I found this in my pocket.”

His expression shifted from irritation to confusion. He stepped closer, snatching the paper from your hand and scanning it quickly. His eyes widened as he read, his grip on the paper tightening.

“This… this is it,” he breathed, almost disbelieving.

“What is it?” you asked, peering over his shoulder.

San pointed to a phrase written in bold near the bottom of the page: “The Key to Realms: Chromer.”

“It says the key we’re looking for isn’t a traditional key. It’s a sand clock,” San explained, his voice filled with sudden urgency. “A sand clock called Chromer. And it’s in the principal’s office.”

Your brows furrowed. “A sand clock? Why would something like that be the key to anything?”

“It’s not just any sand clock,” San replied, his tone deadly serious. “The Chromer is a relic that connects dimensions. It’s what I need to go back to my realm. This is the information we were searching for.”

You both stared at the paper, the weight of its significance settling over you.

“But how did it get in my pocket?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

San shook his head, his expression unreadable. “I don’t know. Someone—or something—wanted us to have this. Whatever force controls this place isn’t done with us yet.”

The two of you exchanged a glance, the reality of the situation sinking in. The journey was far from over. If anything, it had just begun.

The hallways stretched endlessly ahead, dim and cold, as if life had been sucked out of the building. The air felt heavier with every step, and the faint echoes of your hurried footsteps reverberated eerily. San walked ahead, his shoulders tense but his movements calculated and sure.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t stop glancing nervously over your shoulder. The memory of those void-like attackers from the maze haunted you, and your gut told you they weren’t done yet.

“Stay close,” San said over his shoulder, his voice low.

You nodded, clutching your jacket tighter as if it could shield you. Suddenly, a shiver ran down your spine—an unnatural chill that made your skin prickle. Before you could react, a guttural sound tore through the silence.

They were back.

Out of the shadows, black void-like figures materialized, their featureless forms surging toward you. But this time, something was off. They weren’t even glancing at San. All their focus was on you.

“San!” you screamed, backing up instinctively.

San turned sharply, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. “Why the hell are they only after you?” he muttered, stepping in front of you.

One of the figures lunged, and he swatted it away effortlessly with his arm. “Just stay behind me!”

“I’m trying!” you yelled, dodging another swipe from one of the creatures.

Despite his best efforts, they kept finding ways around him, their movements unnervingly quick and calculated. San could only defend so much, and his frustration was mounting.

“You need to fight back!” he barked, slashing through one of the attackers with a weapon he’d conjured from seemingly nowhere.

“I don’t know how to fight!” you snapped, ducking as another creature swiped at your head. Your heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of your chest.

“Then run smarter!” San shouted, his voice strained. “Don’t just run blindly—watch their movements!”

Easy for him to say. You scrambled to your feet after nearly tripping over yourself, your breaths coming in short, panicked gasps. The creatures weren’t slowing down. One lunged at you from the side, and you barely managed to dodge, crashing against the wall.

“Damn it!” San growled. He lunged forward, grabbed your arm, and yanked you toward him. “Stay close—closer!”

He practically dragged you down the hallway, his speed making it hard for you to keep up. His movements were fluid, each strike precise as he knocked away the attackers that got too close.

Still, they came.

Another void-like figure lunged directly at you, faster than the others. You couldn’t move in time. But just as its claws were about to reach you, San spun around, shielding you with his body. The creature’s attack hit him squarely in the back.

San didn’t even flinch.

“San!” you gasped.

“I’m fine,” he gritted out, slashing the creature to nothingness. “But you won’t be if you don’t stop being a damn target.”

“I’m not trying to be a target!” you shot back, the fear making your voice crack.

San sighed heavily, glancing at the path ahead. “We’re almost there. You just have to survive a little longer.”

“That’s not very comforting!” you hissed.

He didn’t respond, instead focusing on cutting a path through the swarm of attackers. The principal’s office was just up ahead, its door faintly illuminated like a beacon.

“Run!” he commanded, pushing you forward.

With every ounce of strength you had, you sprinted toward the door. The attackers closed in, but San was right behind you, clearing a path and yelling for you to keep moving.

You reached the door, slamming your hands against its cold surface. It wouldn’t budge.

“It’s locked!” you shouted, panic surging.

“Move!” San barked, his voice sharp. He didn’t hesitate, driving his fist into the glass pane. It shattered instantly, the shards spraying everywhere. Without a second thought, he gripped you around the waist and hoisted you up.

“Go through!” he demanded, lifting you through the broken opening and onto the other side.

You scrambled over, your heart still racing. San quickly followed, vaulting through the broken glass. He landed beside you, his chest heaving.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the chaos behind you finally falling silent. Then San glanced at you, his expression unreadable.

“You’re alive,” he said simply, his tone more relieved than he let on.

“Barely,” you muttered, collapsing against the wall.

He smirked faintly, brushing glass dust off his clothes. “Good enough.”

Your legs felt like jelly, your lungs burned from the constant running, and every part of you was screaming to stop. The fear, the chaos—it was all too much. You pressed your back against the wall, glaring at San as he dusted himself off like nothing had happened.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you snapped, your voice trembling with exhaustion and frustration. “This is insane, San! I’m not some fighter, I’m just... I’m just a student who got stuck in this nightmare!”

San turned to you, his sharp gaze softening ever so slightly. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, as if weighing his words.

“I didn’t ask for this either,” he finally said, his voice calm but firm. “But we don’t have a choice. You’re my only shot at fixing this mess, and I’m your only shot at surviving it.”

You scoffed, throwing up your hands. “Great pep talk, really. But I’m done, San. I can’t keep running and almost dying every five minutes!”

Instead of arguing, he pulled out his watch. The faint, flickering blue light of the device illuminated his face as he fiddled with it.

“What are you doing now?” you asked, exasperated.

“Calling my family,” he said simply, his tone uncharacteristically soft.

The watch buzzed faintly, then a holographic screen popped up, displaying blurry but familiar faces. You recognized one of them immediately—the leader, Hongjoong, with his sharp eyes and commanding presence.

“San,” Hongjoong’s voice came through, clear and steady. “You’re still alive.”

“Barely,” San muttered, glancing at you. “I’ve got her with me. We made it out of the maze, but things are getting worse. The attackers are targeting her now.”

“Why her?” Seonghwa’s voice chimed in, his tone calm but laced with concern.

“I don’t know,” San admitted, running a hand through his hair. “But it’s making everything ten times harder.”

Another voice cut in—Wooyoung’s. “Maybe she’s got something they want? Or maybe she just smells like fresh prey.”

“Wooyoung, not helpful,” Yunho interjected.

You felt scared. Being in the mercy of these unknown and certainly shady men. He can do whatever he wants to you. It all came down like a mirror shattering. Ironic

“Look,” San continued, ignoring the bickering, “we’re on our way to the principal’s office. We think the key—the Chromer—is there. But it’s getting harder to move without drawing attention.”

“You need to keep her safe, San,” Hongjoong said, his voice firm but an underlying meaning present. “Whatever it takes.”

San’s jaw tightened. “I know that, hyung.”

You sat quietly, watching the exchange. It was clear that these people weren’t just his team—they were his family, and their concern for him was genuine.

“San,” a new voice broke in, deeper and more commanding. It was Jongho. “Do you think she can handle it?”

San glanced at you, his eyes searching your face. “She’ll have to.”

Your heart sank at his words. He wasn’t wrong, but the weight of it felt crushing. You wanted to argue, to tell them all that you weren’t cut out for this. But something about the way San looked at you—determined yet oddly reassuring—made you hold your tongue.

“Stay in contact,” Hongjoong said. “And don’t do anything stupid.”

The hologram flickered and disappeared, leaving you and San in the dim light of the hallway.

He slipped the watch back onto his wrist and turned to you. “I know this is hard,” he said quietly, his voice softer than before. “But we’re almost there. Just a little longer, okay?”

You looked at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt. But all you saw was determination—and maybe, just maybe, a hint of trust.

“Fine,” you muttered, pushing yourself off the wall. “But if I die, I’m haunting you forever.”

San smirked faintly. “Fair deal.”

As San and you finally found the door to the principal's office, you both stopped in front of it. The door was large, dark, and imposing, a heavy weight hanging in the air as you both stared at it.

San’s eyes locked onto you, his face tense. “You need to go in there. The Chromer is in that office, and it’s the only thing that can get me back to my realm. You have to do this.”

You hesitated, feeling the fear creep into your chest. “I... I can’t, San. What if something happens to me in there? I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m not like you. I can’t fight.”

San’s frustration was palpable, his fists clenching as his tone grew more urgent. “We don’t have time for hesitation. You have to go in there and get it. Do you understand?”

You took a step back, heart pounding. “I can’t do it. I’m not strong enough. I’ve never been strong enough.”

Before San could reply, the watch on his wrist buzzed, and Hongjoong’s calm voice came through.

“Hey,” Hongjoong said, his tone reassuring yet firm, “we know you’re scared. But you have to do this. San needs you.”

Next, Seonghwa spoke up, his voice gentle but steady. “You might not think you’re strong, but you are. You’ve already done more than most people could ever imagine. You’ve come this far, haven’t you? That’s strength.”

You felt a sense of warmth from their words, but the fear still held you tight. Then you heard Jongho’s voice, clear and strong, cutting through the fog of doubt in your mind.

“Listen to me,” Jongho said, his voice carrying that same unwavering confidence. “You’re not alone. We’re all right here, cheering you on. I know it’s scary, but I believe in you. We all do.”

A slight shift in San’s demeanor caught your attention as he stared at you. His frustration softened, replaced by a look of understanding.

"Jongho's right," San added, his voice quieter now, tinged with sincerity. “I wouldn’t be asking you if I didn’t believe in you too. You’ve got this.”

The weight of their words, their unwavering belief in you, was enough to start dissolving the fear. You didn’t want to disappoint them—especially not San.

Yeosang’s voice cut in next, surprising in its warmth. “You’re stronger than you think. You can do this. We’re right here with you. One step at a time. Just trust yourself.”

Mingi chimed in with his usual confidence, “And if you need any backup, we’ve got your back. We’re with you every step of the way.”

Wooyoung added his usual teasing tone, “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, trust me. Now go show us what you’ve got.”

With each of their voices echoing in your mind, you felt the weight of your fear start to lift. You weren’t alone in this. They were all behind you.

You took a deep breath, summoning the courage you didn’t even know you had. “Okay,” you whispered, your voice steadier than before. “I’ll do it. I’ll go in.”

San’s expression softened, a quiet gratitude in his eyes. “Thank you,” he said, his voice sincere. “You don’t know what this means to me.”

You gave him a small nod, looking back at the door. The fear was still there, but now there was determination too. You weren’t just doing this for yourself—you were doing it for San and his family. And that made all the difference.

You stepped up to the door, your hand shaking slightly as you reached for the cold handle. Before you could second-guess yourself, you turned it, pushing the door open slowly. With one last glance at San, you stepped into the unknown, ready to face whatever waited inside.

San and you stood in front of the principal’s office. It looked imposing, with dark, heavy wooden doors that had a strange energy about them. The air felt thick, as if something was lurking just beyond those doors.

San, his face tense with anticipation, turned to you. “You have to go in. We don’t have time to waste.”

You took a step back, shaking your head. “I can’t... What if something happens to me? What if I get caught?” Your heart raced, fear creeping up your spine. You didn’t want to be the weak link, but the thought of stepping into that office alone was overwhelming.

San’s jaw clenched, frustration flickering in his eyes. His patience, usually so steady, was starting to crack. “We don’t have a choice! You’re the only one who can get in there. You’re the student. I’m not allowed in.”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you muttered, looking away, unable to meet his gaze.

The tension in the air thickened. San’s hands clenched at his sides, his fingers twitching as if he was on the verge of snapping. But before he could say anything, his watch buzzed to life, and the voice of his captain echoed in the silence.

“San, calm down,” Hongjoong’s voice came through, cool and authoritative. “Let her breathe. You know she’s scared.”

San’s eyes hardened as he spoke through clenched teeth. “But we need this, hyung. We can’t afford to fail now.”

“I know,” Hongjoong responded. “But you can’t push her. You’ve trained with her, you know what she’s capable of. Give her a moment. We can’t force her to go in, but we can help her understand why it’s important.”

San's gaze softened slightly as he looked at you, seeing the fear written all over your face. He let out a slow breath and then spoke, his tone more gentle this time. “Look, I know it’s terrifying. But you’re not alone. We’re all here, and we won’t let anything happen to you. You just have to trust me, and trust yourself.”

You felt the weight of his words, but still, doubt lingered in your mind. “What if it’s too dangerous?”

Hongjoong’s voice came again, more insistent. “It is dangerous, but do you want to know what’s even more dangerous? The alternative. We don’t know how much time we have. You’re the key to all of this, and you can’t let fear stand in the way now.”

San stepped closer, his eyes unwavering. “We’ll get through this together. But you need to go in. Do it for us. For you. And for what’s right.”

You hesitated, but then San’s words sunk in. He was right. The fear that had held you back was still there, but so was the determination. You had come this far. You couldn’t turn back now.

Taking a deep breath, you nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

San’s expression softened with relief, but there was a hint of pride in his eyes. “Thank you.” He stepped back, his eyes fixed on the door. “I’ll be right here. Just get what we need.”

With a final look at him, you reached for the door handle, your fingers trembling slightly as you pushed it open. The darkness inside was almost suffocating, but you stepped in, ready to face whatever came next.

As the door clicked shut behind you, you could hear San’s voice, faint but comforting, echoing through the hallway. “You’ve got this.”

You pushed the door open, the sound of it creaking in the silence. Inside, the room was dimly lit, with rows of old bookshelves lining the walls. A desk stood in the center, cluttered with papers and objects that looked ancient and important. The air felt heavy with a strange energy, the kind that made your skin tingle and your heart race.

Your eyes scanned the room, and that’s when you saw it—the sand clock, sitting on a pedestal in the far corner. The chromer. It glowed faintly, its sands moving impossibly slow inside the glass.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breath as you walked towards it. Each step felt like it was pulling you deeper into the unknown. This was it. This was the key. You could feel its power, like it was calling to you, urging you to take it.

You reached the pedestal, hesitating for just a moment. Was this really happening? Was this how you were going to help San? You had no idea how this sand clock worked, but you didn’t have a choice. You picked it up gently, feeling the cool glass under your fingers. The sand inside swirled, almost like it had a life of its own.

Just as you turned to leave, you heard a faint creak of the floor behind you. Your heart skipped a beat, and you spun around, instinctively clutching the chromer tighter. But it was only the wind. There was no one else in the room, nothing to worry about—at least, for now.

You breathed a sigh of relief and made your way back to the door, keeping a sharp eye on the room around you. With one final glance at the sand clock in your hands, you pushed open the door and stepped out.

San was standing there, his back to the wall, waiting. His expression softened when he saw you holding the chromer. Without a word, he walked towards you, his hand outstretched.

“We did it,” you said, holding it out to him.

San nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips, though his eyes were full of concern. “You’re alright?”

You nodded back, still a little shaken but relieved to be out of there. “I’m fine.”

He reached for the chromer, taking it from your hands. As his fingers brushed against it, he let out a quiet sigh, as if the weight of the moment had finally caught up with him. “This is it,” he said softly. “With this, I can go back.”

You both stood in the hallway, the weight of your mission heavy in the air. It wasn’t over yet, but at least you had what you came for.

San gave you a long look, his eyes filled with gratitude. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

San’s arms suddenly wrapped around you, lifting you off the ground effortlessly. You gasped, your heart racing as you instinctively tried to push away, but his grip was firm, secure.

“Wait—San!” you stammered, panic rising in your chest. “What are you doing?! Put me down!”

His smile was wide, his eyes shining with pure relief and joy. “We did it,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “I’m not letting you go yet. You helped me get this, and you’re going to be safe with me.”

You squirmed slightly in his arms, but the more you tried to pull away, the tighter his grip seemed to become. The sensation of being carried—of someone else having complete control over you—was overwhelming, and you couldn’t quite figure out why it made you feel so vulnerable. You had always been independent, had always taken care of yourself. No one had ever carried you before.

“San, I—” You trailed off, trying to calm your racing thoughts. His steady heartbeat echoed against your back, reminding you how close you were to him. “Please, I’m not used to this.”

He slowed his pace slightly, as if sensing your discomfort, but he didn’t stop. “I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.”

Despite his words, a knot of unease twisted in your stomach. Your chest tightened, and your hands instinctively gripped his jacket, as if trying to steady yourself. You couldn’t explain it—the way he was holding you felt so... foreign. So intimate.

You swallowed, attempting to push the discomfort aside, but the fear still lingered. The feeling of being completely at his mercy, so exposed in his arms, made your heart race for all the wrong reasons.

“San, I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice small.

His steps faltered, and he looked down at you, his expression softening. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said gently. “I won’t hurt you. I’ll get you to safety.”

But the truth was, you weren’t just scared of being in his arms—you were scared of what this might mean. You weren’t sure how to handle the feeling of being cared for, of being protected in such an overwhelming way.

You didn’t know what to say, how to react to all of it, so instead, you stayed quiet, allowing him to carry you. You didn’t want to seem weak, didn’t want to burden him with your confusion.

And yet, despite your unease, a part of you felt comforted by his hold. Part of you felt... safe.

San adjusted his jacket as he stood in the middle of the chromer's glowing circle. The energy buzzed around him, and his mind was calm yet excited. This was the moment he'd been planning for days. He was going to ensure everything was set right — that you would go back to your world, and he would return to his with his friends.

As the chromer activated, the world blurred and spun, the familiar hum of its power resonating in his chest. Then, everything stopped abruptly. He felt solid ground beneath his feet, and as his vision cleared, a grin spread across his face.

He was back. The comforting sight of his realm and his friends standing nearby filled him with relief. "Finally," he muttered, stepping forward. But then, a small movement behind him made him freeze.

He turned his head slowly, and there you were, standing wide-eyed and just as disoriented as him. San’s smile faltered, replaced by a mix of confusion and disbelief. His friends, who had started to approach him with cheers of welcome, suddenly stopped in their tracks. Their gazes darted between him and you, their expressions mirroring the bewilderment in his heart.

“San…” Wooyoung was the first to break the silence, his tone tinged with disbelief. "Who’s… she?"

San opened his mouth, closed it again, then ran a hand through his hair in frustration. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to be here. He had been sure the chromer would teleport you back to your world, far away from his chaotic reality. But somehow, you were here, standing in his realm, right next to him.

“I—uh—this wasn’t supposed to happen,” San stammered, glancing at you and then at his friends.

You looked at him, your voice soft but steady despite the strangeness of it all. “San… why am I here?”

Before he could answer, Yunho stepped forward, his tall frame imposing but his tone kind. “Wait, wait, wait. Are you telling me this is the girl you’ve been talking about?” He gave San a knowing look, a sly smirk tugging at his lips.

San groaned inwardly. “Yes, but—listen, this wasn’t the plan. She wasn’t supposed to come here.”

“Well, she’s here now,” Seonghwa chimed in, crossing his arms. His gaze flickered to you, assessing but not unkind. “What are you going to do about it?”

San’s mind raced. He turned to you, his tone softening. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how this happened. I thought the chromer would send you back to your world.”

You blinked, taking a hesitant step closer to him. “So… this is your world? Your realm?”

San nodded slowly, his lips pressing into a thin line. He could see the questions swirling in your eyes, but what caught him off guard was the faint flicker of awe. You weren’t panicking; instead, you were looking around with cautious curiosity.

“Okay, hold up,” Wooyoung interrupted, stepping between the two of you with a playful grin. “This is kind of amazing. She’s here, Sannie. Isn’t that… good?”

San shot him a glare. “That’s not the point.”

“So what are we gonna do now?” Mingi piped up, his voice heavy. He gestured at you dramatically, “we have a child with us”

You look at him with an offended face “I'm not a child. Just because you got an extra 1ft up your butt doesn't mean I'm a child”

San sighed, rubbing his temples. This was a problem. But atleast his friends were enjoying this more than they should, but deep down, a part of him couldn’t deny the strange sense of relief. You were here. With him. It wasn’t what he had planned, but maybe… just maybe, this wasn’t a bad thing.

“I don't know,” San muttered, glancing at you. “You’re here now. We’ll figure this out together.”

“i don't trust any of you, just take me somewhere safe”

San flinched slightly at your blunt tone. His friends exchanged amused glances, but there was a hint of curiosity in their eyes as they sized you up.As you walked, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of their gazes—some curious, others amused—but it was San's quiet presence beside you that gave you a strange sense of reassurance. Maybe, just maybe, you could trust him. For now.

"Safe?" Wooyoung echoed, placing a hand dramatically on his chest. "You wounded me! We are the definition of safe."

You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, sure. If safe means being surrounded by a bunch of guys who probably argue over who gets the last slice of pizza."

Wooyoung gasped in mock outrage while Yunho let out a deep chuckle. "She’s not wrong," Yunho admitted, scratching the back of his neck.

"Guys, can we focus?" San snapped, rubbing his temples again. He turned to you, his expression softening despite the frustration evident in his voice. "Look, I understand this is overwhelming. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. But I promise, no one here is going to hurt you. You’re safe with us."

You glanced around at the group, noting the mix of playful energy and genuine care in their faces. Still, the situation felt too surreal, and trust wasn’t something you handed out easily.

"Fine," you said reluctantly, though your posture remained guarded. "But if anyone tries anything funny, I’ll…" You trailed off, looking down at your empty hands. "I’ll… figure something out," you finished awkwardly.

Seonghwa smirked, his voice calm and teasing. "Noted. No funny business."

Behind you, Mingi whispered loudly to Jongho, "She’s feisty. I like her."

San shot him a glare over his shoulder. "Not helping, Mingi."

Hongjoong and yeosang, who had been quietly observing from the back, finally decided to chime in.

Hongjoong adjusted his captain’s hat and gave a dramatic sigh. “So, let me get this straight,” he said, stepping forward and crossing his arms. “San accidentally brought you here, and now we’re babysitting?”

"Not a child," you snapped again, glaring at him.

Yeosang tilted his head, his calm demeanor in stark contrast to the chaos around him. “She has a point,” he said simply. “But the bigger question is, what are we going to do now? We don’t even know how she fits into this.”

You frowned, feeling like you were being talked about like some kind of puzzle piece. “I’m standing right here, you know. Maybe ask me instead of acting like I’m some sort of problem.���

San sighed, clearly at his wit’s end. “Hongjoong, Yeosang, can we not make this worse? She’s already stressed out enough.”

“Worse?” Hongjoong raised an eyebrow. “You mean worse than accidentally dragging someone into our realm? Yeah, okay, San, sure. Not worse at all.”

Yeosang shrugged, his expression unreadable. “Well, she’s here now. Might as well make the best of it.”

You glanced between them, trying to gauge if they were as unpredictable as the others. "Are these two always this cryptic?" you asked, pointing at Hongjoong and Yeosang.

“Cryptic?” Yeosang repeated, almost amused. “No. I’d say I’m more… realistic.”

“And I’m the strategist,” Hongjoong added, smirking. “Which is why I’m asking the important questions. Like what exactly you plan to do while you’re here.”

You sighed, exasperated. “I didn’t plan anything! I didn’t ask to be here!”

San, sensing the tension rising again, stepped in quickly. “Okay, that’s enough. We can figure everything out once we’ve all calmed down.”

Hongjoong shrugged, falling back into step with the group. “Fair enough. But don’t think I’m letting this slide, San. We’re going to need answers.”

Yeosang gave you a small nod, his calm gaze meeting yours. “You’ll be fine. We’re not as bad as we look.”

You weren’t entirely convinced, but something about Yeosang’s steady demeanor was oddly comforting. Still, as you followed the group deeper into the unknown, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something much bigger.

The tent was much larger on the inside than it seemed, a testament to the strange realm you’d been dragged into. The small room San and Wooyoung led you to was simple but cozy—there was a bed with neatly folded blankets, a small wooden table, and a lantern casting a soft glow across the space.

“Here,” San said, gesturing toward the bed. “It’s not much, but you’ll be comfortable.”

Wooyoung grinned, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Don’t get used to the royal treatment, though. We’re only doing this because someone—” he threw a pointed look at San, “—messed up.”

San rolled his eyes, clearly ignoring Wooyoung’s jab. “Get some rest. We’ll figure everything out tomorrow.”

The two of them left, closing the door behind them. You sat on the edge of the bed, sighing as the muffled voices of the group reached you. They were having a meeting about you, their tones ranging from curious to concerned.

It was only then that you noticed something odd about this room. It felt… lived in. A small detail here, a personal touch there. Then it hit you—this was San’s room.

The realization was confirmed when you heard Wooyoung loudly teasing San outside.

“You’re really giving up your room for her? You’re softer than I thought,” Wooyoung said, cackling.

“Shut up,” San replied, sounding exasperated. “I brought her here. It’s my responsibility to make sure she’s okay.”

“You could’ve just given her my room,” Mingi’s voice chimed in, indignant.

“No way,” San shot back. “She’s my problem. I’ll crash with Yeosang.”

“I didn't ask for this, why does my consent not matter?”

Everyone ignored yeosang.

You blinked, surprised by the admission. He was going out of his way to make you comfortable, even at his own expense. Despite everything, a small part of you felt… touched.

Back in the main area, the conversation continued.

“So, what’s the plan?” Hongjoong asked, his voice sharp and commanding.

“We’ll figure it out tomorrow,” San said firmly. “She’s been through enough for one day.”

“You’re taking this pretty seriously,” Yeosang observed, his tone neutral but laced with curiosity.

“Because I’m the one who messed up,” San replied.

You lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. It was strange being in this world, surrounded by people who were so different yet oddly familiar. You couldn’t help but wonder how long this would last—and what San’s words really meant.

As the muffled voices outside the room grew louder, it became apparent that San's friends were thoroughly enjoying the situation at his expense.

You soon realised that wooyoung guy would not leave San alone about the fact that he has brought you here.

"San," Wooyoung's teasing tone cut through the chatter, "what’s the deal with you and the girl, huh? She gets your room and your undivided attention. Should we start planning a wedding?”

San groaned audibly, likely rubbing his temples again. "Wooyoung, shut up."

Mingi jumped in with a laugh. "Nah, but seriously, you’re awfully protective, don’t you think? I’ve never seen you this flustered."

“Maybe San has a crush,” Seonghwa chimed in, his usually composed voice dripping with amusement.

“I do not have a crush,” San snapped. "I’m just trying to fix my mistake. That’s it."

Hongjoong chuckled, crossing his arms. "You know, San, your ‘mistake’ is starting to feel less like an accident and more like fate."

Even Yeosang, who rarely joined in on teasing, raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You did seem pretty quick to give up your room for her. Very... gallant of you.”

Jongho grinned, leaning back against the tent wall. "Should we be worried? What if this becomes a thing? Next thing we know, he’s ditching missions to hang out with her."

“Guys,” San groaned, his voice rising in frustration, “I swear, if you don’t stop—”

“San and the mystery girl sitting in a tree—” Wooyoung started singing obnoxiously, only to be interrupted by Seonghwa laughing so hard he had to lean on Mingi for support.

“Alright, enough!” San finally snapped, his face undoubtedly red from a mix of anger and embarrassment. “She’s not a child, she’s not my crush, and she’s not my girlfriend. She’s just—she’s here because of me, okay? I’m taking responsibility!”

His declaration only earned him a chorus of exaggerated "ooohs" and smirks from his friends.

“Whatever you say, Romeo,” Hongjoong said, winking.

From inside the room, you couldn’t help but overhear every word. You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips. These guys might’ve been a handful, but there was something oddly comforting about the way they teased San. And for some reason, knowing he was defending you—even against his friends—made your heart flutter just a little.

The next morning, the sound of a light knock on the door pulled you from sleep. As you groggily opened your eyes, Jongho stood at the entrance, arms crossed, his usual stoic expression softening ever so slightly.

“Get up,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. “I’m in charge of you today. San’s orders. We’re starting with shooting practice.”

Still half-asleep, you blinked at him. “Shooting?”

Jongho nodded, walking over to a corner where a small handgun rested in a holster. “This world isn’t safe. You need to know how to defend yourself. If you’re going to stick around, you can’t be useless.”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence,” you muttered under your breath, dragging yourself out of bed.

Once outside, Jongho led you to an open field near the camp, where targets had been set up against a cluster of trees. He handed you the gun, explaining the basics of safety and handling in his usual no-nonsense manner.

“Okay,” he said, stepping back. “Let’s see what you’ve got. Aim at the target.”

You took a deep breath, gripping the gun tightly and lining up the shot. To your surprise—and his—you hit the target on your first try.

Jongho raised an eyebrow. “Not bad,” he admitted, a flicker of surprise in his tone. “But your stance is all wrong. You’re gripping it too hard, and your feet are too close together.”

Before you could react, you fired again. This time, the recoil sent you stumbling backward, nearly losing your balance. Jongho caught you by the arm, steadying you with ease.

“Yeah, that’s what I mean,” he said, his expression softening just a little. “You’ve got good aim, but if you don’t fix your posture, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

He stepped closer, adjusting your grip and positioning your arms with surprising patience. His hands were firm but careful as he guided you.

“Feet shoulder-width apart,” he instructed, nudging your leg with his boot. “And don’t lock your elbows. Let the gun’s recoil flow through you, not against you.”

You followed his instructions, firing again. This time, the shot landed perfectly, and you barely felt the recoil.

Jongho nodded approvingly. “Better. Keep practicing like that, and you might actually survive out here.”

A small smile crept onto your lips. “Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

As the morning went on, the two of you continued practicing. While Jongho’s usual stoicism remained, you couldn’t help but notice the faint glimmer of pride in his eyes every time you improved. Despite his tough exterior, there was something reassuring about his presence, and for the first time, you felt like you could truly hold your own in this strange, dangerous world.

Later that day, as the group gathered around their makeshift campfire, Jongho casually brought up the morning’s events.

“She’s good at aiming,” he said simply, crossing his arms as he leaned back against a log.

Yunho immediately seized the opportunity, his face lighting up with a mischievous grin. “Oh, I bet she is. She already pierced San’s heart.”

The group erupted into laughter, a mix of playful jabs and exaggerated gasps.

“Classic Yunho,” Mingi chuckled, nudging San with his elbow. “You gonna deny it?”

To everyone’s surprise, San didn’t snap back or brush it off like he usually did. Instead, he glanced down at the fire, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“I—” he started, but then shook his head, letting out a small, almost shy laugh. “I’m not even going to argue with you guys.”

The laughter paused for a moment as everyone processed what he’d just said.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Wooyoung leaned forward, his eyes wide. “Did San just admit to something? Did I hear that right?”

“Mark this day,” Hongjoong said dramatically, pretending to jot something down. “The day San didn’t deny his feelings.”

Yeosang smirked, his usual quiet demeanor replaced by a rare glint of amusement. “Looks like someone’s getting soft.”

San groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You’re all insufferable.”

“But you love us,” Seonghwa teased with a knowing smile, earning more laughter from the group.

Jongho, watching the chaos unfold, couldn’t help but smirk. “All I said was she’s good at aiming. You guys took it and ran.”

“Yeah, but you have to admit,” Yunho said, still grinning, “jongho said she hit the most important target without even trying.”

San rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. As much as his friends teased him, there was no denying the truth they’d managed to uncover so easily.

As you sat on the edge of the camp, your eyes drifted to where Wooyoung, San, and Yeosang were huddled together. The way they bantered and laughed, their easy camaraderie so natural, made your chest ache in a way you hadn’t expected.

They were teasing each other relentlessly, Wooyoung doubling over in laughter while Yeosang calmly delivered a comeback that made San groan dramatically.

You sighed, pulling your knees up to your chest. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. Not because you didn’t like them being close, but because you wished you had something like that—best friends who knew you so well, who could make you laugh even in the most stressful situations, who felt like home.

The loneliness you’d carried for so long suddenly felt heavier. You tried to push it away, but the thought lingered. What would it feel like to be part of something like that?

Wooyoung caught your gaze first, his playful smile faltering when he noticed your expression. Nudging San with his elbow, he nodded in your direction.

San followed his glance, his brows furrowing when he saw you. Without hesitation, he stood up and motioned for Yeosang and Wooyoung to follow him.

“Hey,” San called out as they approached. “What are you doing all the way over here?”

You shrugged, forcing a smile. “Just sitting.”

Wooyoung plopped down next to you, resting his chin in his hand. “You looked like you were deep in thought. Care to share with the class?”

Yeosang sat on your other side, his calm presence immediately grounding. “Something bothering you?” he asked softly.

You hesitated, not wanting to admit what you were feeling. “It’s nothing. Just… thinking about stuff.”

The conversation earlier left you feeling a little lighter, but not entirely. As the evening rolled in and everyone busied themselves with their tasks, you retreated to the small room San had given up for you. Sitting on the bed, you stared at the wall, lost in thought.

A soft knock on the door broke the silence. “It’s me,” San’s voice came through. “Can I come in?”

You hesitated, then called out, “Yeah, sure.”

The door creaked open, and San stepped inside, closing it gently behind him. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. “You okay?”

You nodded quickly. “I’m fine.”

San raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You didn’t seem fine earlier. You’ve been quiet ever since. What’s going on?”

You looked away, gripping the edge of the bed. “It’s nothing.”

“Don’t pull that with me,” he said, his tone soft but firm. “You can talk to me. I won’t judge you.”

Something about his sincerity broke through the wall you were trying so hard to keep up. With a sigh, you finally admitted, “I felt jealous earlier. Watching you and your friends… I don’t have anything like that. I never did.”

San’s brows furrowed as he moved closer, sitting down across from you. “What do you mean?”

You swallowed hard, the words catching in your throat. “I don’t have those kinds of bonds. Not with my family, and definitely not with friends. I’ve always been… on my own. Watching you all laugh and support each other just made me realize what I’m missing.”

The room went silent for a moment. San’s gaze softened, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something more serious. “You’ve been carrying that around all this time?”

You shrugged, trying to brush it off. “It’s not a big deal. I’ve managed this far.”

San shook his head. “No, it is a big deal. You shouldn’t have to feel that way.”

You looked down, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just how it is. I’ve learned to deal with it.”

San reached out, gently placing a hand over yours. “You don’t have to deal with it alone anymore. You have us now. You have me now.”

His words made your chest tighten, but this time, it wasn’t out of sadness. It was the comfort you hadn’t realized you needed.

“You really mean that?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

San smiled, a warmth in his eyes that made you feel a little less alone. “I do. We’re here for you. And I’m here for you, no matter what.”

San's words lingered in the air, heavy with sincerity, but you couldn’t bring yourself to fully accept them. You’d heard promises like that before—words meant to comfort, to soothe—but they rarely held up. People always said they’d be there, and yet, when it mattered most, they disappeared.

You offered him a faint smile, hoping it was enough to convince him you were okay. “Thanks, San. I appreciate it.”

But deep down, the wall you’d built around yourself refused to budge. You couldn’t afford to let it down, not when experience had taught you that trust came with consequences.

San tilted his head, studying you for a moment. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

Your breath hitched, but you quickly shook your head. “It’s not that. I just… I’m not used to this. It’ll take time.”

He frowned, leaning forward slightly. “I get it. I can’t change what’s happened to you before. But I want you to know I’m not like that. None of us are. When we say you’re part of this now, we mean it.”

You wanted to believe him, wanted to let those words sink in, but the scars of broken trust ran too deep. Instead, you nodded, giving him another polite, distant response. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

San’s shoulders slumped slightly, like he knew he hadn’t quite reached you. But he didn’t push further. Instead, he stood, looking at you with a quiet determination. “Alright. Take your time. I’ll just have to prove it to you.”

You nod your head hesitantly. Doubts still circling your mind.

“You keep saying that, but I know you’re not gonna. You don’t have to tell me everything, but… I wish you would.”

For a long moment, the room was silent. Finally, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to do this, San. Trust people. Believe that they’ll stay. I’ve been let down too many times.”

San’s gaze softened, and he leaned forward slightly. “I get it. I do. But… not everyone is going to hurt you. Not me.”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “How can you say that? You don’t know what the future holds. People change, San. They leave.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, his tone steady. “But I’m here now, and I’m not planning to go anywhere. I mean it.”

You looked at him, searching his face for any sign of insincerity. There was none. Still, you shook your head, your walls refusing to come down. “You don’t understand, San. I’ve heard those words before.”

He stayed quiet for a moment, then stood and extended a hand toward you. “Come with me.”

You blinked at him. “What?”

“Just… trust me. For tonight,” he said, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips.

Hesitant, you took his hand. He led you out of the room and through the quiet camp, eventually stopping in a small clearing lit by the moon. The rest of the group was nowhere in sight, leaving the two of you surrounded by stillness.

“I wanted to show you something,” San said, letting go of your hand and stepping back. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, worn object—a charm.

You tilted your head. “What’s that?”

“It’s something my mom gave me before I left home,” he explained, his voice carrying a mix of nostalgia and warmth. “She told me to hold onto it whenever I felt lost or unsure. And I wanted you to have it.”

Your eyes widened. “San, I can’t—”

“You can,” he interrupted gently, stepping closer. “You’re not alone anymore. And even if you don’t believe me now, I’ll keep proving it until you do.”

The sincerity in his voice, the vulnerability in his eyes—it broke something in you. Tears welled up despite your efforts to hold them back.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“Because you matter to me,” he said simply. “More than you know.”

The walls you’d built so carefully began to crack. Slowly, you nodded, accepting the charm. “Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll try. For you.”

San smiled, his relief palpable. “That’s all I ask.”

As the night stretched on, the two of you stayed there, talking quietly under the stars. And for the first time in a long time, you felt a spark of hope—a belief that maybe, just maybe, you’d finally found someone who wouldn’t leave.

In the weeks that followed, something began to shift. San kept his promise, showing up in ways you hadn’t expected. Whether it was a warm cup of tea when you couldn’t sleep, a steadying hand during training, or simply sitting beside you in silence when you needed it most, he proved his words with actions.

The group noticed, of course. Wooyoung teased San relentlessly, while Yunho and Mingi exchanged knowing looks. Even Yeosang, usually reserved, smiled faintly when he caught you two sharing quiet moments.

Slowly but surely, you found yourself opening up—not just to San, but to the rest of the group. Hongjoong taught you about navigation, Jongho helped you refine your aim, and Seonghwa shared stories of his childhood that made you laugh until your sides hurt. For the first time in your life, you felt like you belonged.

One evening, after a long day of training, you sat with San on a hill overlooking the camp. The sky was painted in hues of orange and pink, the sun dipping low on the horizon.

“You’ve changed,” San said softly, his gaze fixed on you.

You raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Oh? How so?”

“You’re smiling more,” he said, his own lips curving into a grin. “And I think you’re starting to trust us.”

You looked out at the horizon, the warmth of his words settling in your chest. “Maybe I am,” you admitted. “It’s… nice, having people to rely on.”

San chuckled, leaning back on his hands. “Well, you’ve got us now. And we’re not going anywhere.”

You turned to him, your heart swelling with something you hadn’t felt in a long time: gratitude. “Thank you, San. For everything.”

He met your gaze, his eyes soft and sincere. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad you’re here.”

As the sun set and the first stars began to appear, you realized something profound. This wasn’t just a group of people who had taken you in. They were your family now—a family you’d fought to find, and one you knew would stand by you no matter what.

And as for San? Well, maybe—just maybe—he was your beginning, the start of a life you never thought you’d have.

For the first time in a long time, you weren’t looking back at what you’d lost. Instead, you were looking forward—to a future filled with hope, laughter, and the people who made your heart feel whole.

[shikai-the-storyteller]

Why on earth is Pac giving a tour of his house

[oneluckydragon]

✨🌸 Sunshine on your skin, flowers in my soul 🌸✨

🌊🫧Summary → In the midst of his reconciliation with Team Wish, Dusknoir begins coughing up flowers. This unfortunate brand of bad luck should be a cosmic joke. A spiteful punishment that the world has brought down on him out of malice, out of vengeance for his past deeds. A cruel, agonizing curse manifested with the single unjustified purpose of preventing him from realizing happiness, ever seeking redemption, ever righting his multitudes of wrongs and moving on with his life. But that's not true, and he knows it deep down. Knows it in the very core of his soul like the flood of petals building in this throat.

This is his fault because he is a coward, and that's all he has ever been. A backstabbing, lonely coward.

And now he is going to die because of it.

[AO3]

[CH. I -- Word Count -- 13,290]

🌒💫 Return → the act of going back to a place, person, or memory

[CH. II -- TBA]

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 66

Chapter; Highlights, etc. (you know the drill😂)

Aelin awoke to the scent of pine and snow, and knew she was home.

Not in Terrasen, not yet, but in the sense she would always be home, if Rowan was with her.

His steady breaths filled her right ear, the sound of the well and truly asleep, and the arm he'd draped across her middle was a solid, warm weight. Silvery light glazed the ancient stones of the ceiling.

Morning—or a cloudy day. The halls beyond the room offered shards of sound that she sorted through, piece by piece, as if she were assembling a broken mirror that might reveal the world beyond

Apparently, it had been three days since the battle. And the rest of the khagan's army, led by Prince Kashin, his third-eldest son, had arrived.

It was that tidbit that had her rising fully to consciousness, a hand sliding to Rowan's arm.

A caress of a touch, just to see how deeply the rejuvenating sleep held him. Three days, they'd slept here, unaware of the world. A dangerous, vulnerable time for any magic-wielder, when their bodies demanded a deep sleep to recover from expending so much power.

That was another sliver she'd picked up: Gavriel sat outside their door. In mountain lion form. People drew quiet when they approached, not realizing that as soon as they passed him, their whispers of That strange, terrifying cat could be detected by Fae ears.

Aelin ran a finger over the seam of Rowan's sleeve, feeling the corded muscle beneath. Clear her head, her body felt clear. Like the first icy breath inhaled on a winter's morning.

During the days they'd slept, no nightmare had shaken her awake, hunted her. A small, merciful reprieve.

Aelin swallowed, her throat dry. What had been real, what Maeve had tried to plant in her mind-did it matter, whether the pain had been true or imagined?

She had gotten out, gotten away from Maeve and Cairn. Facing the broken bits inside her would come later.

For now, it was enough to have this clarity back. Even though releasing her power, expending that mighty blow here, had not been her plan.

Aelin slid her gaze toward Rowan, his harsh face softened into handsomeness by sleep. And clean—the gore that had splattered them both was gone. Someone must have washed it away while they slept.

As if he sensed her attention, or just felt the lingering hand on his arm, Rowan's eyes cracked open. He scanned her from head to toe, deemed everything all right, and met her stare.

"Show-off," he muttered.

Aelin patted his arm. "You put on a pretty fancy display yourself, Prince."

He smiled, his tattoo crinkling. "Will that display be the last of your surprises, or are there more coming?"

She debated it-telling him, revealing it.

Maybe.

Rowan sat up, the blanket sliding from him.

Is this the sort of surprise that will end with my heart stopping dead in my chest?

She snorted, propping her head with a fist as she traced idle marks over the scratchy blanket.

"I sent a letter-when we were at that port in Wendlyn."

Rowan nodded. "To Aedion."

"To Aedion," she said, quietly enough that Gavriel couldn't hear from his spot outside the door. "And to your uncle. And to Essar." Rowan's brows rose. "Saying what?" She hummed to herself. "Saying that I was indeed imprisoned by Maeve, and that while 1 was her captive, she laid out some rather nefarious plans."

Her mate went still. "With what goal in mind?"

Aelin sat up, and picked at her nails.

"Convincing them to disband her army. Start a revolt in Doranelle. Kick Maeve off the throne. You know, small things."

Rowan just looked at her. Then scrubbed at his face. "You think a letter could do that?"

"It was strongly worded." He gaped a bit. "What sort of nefarious plans did you mention?"

"Desire to conquer the world, her complete lack of interest in sparing Fae lives in a war, her interest in Valg things." She swallowed. "I might have mentioned that she's possibly Valg."

Rowan started. Aelin shrugged. "It was a lucky guess. The best lies are always mixed with truth."

"Suggesting Maeve is Valg is a fairly outlandish lie, even for you. Even if it turned out to be true."

She waved a hand. "We'll see if anything comes of it."

"If it works, if they somehow revolt and the army turns against her..." He shook his head, laughing softly. "It'd be a boon in this war."

"I scheme and lie so grandly, and that's all the credit I get?"

Rowan flicked her nose. "You'll get credit if her army doesn't show up. Until then, we prepare as if they are. Which is highly likely." At her frown, he said, "Essar doesn't wield much power, and my uncle doesn't take many risks. Not like Enda and Sellene. For them to overthrow Maeve ... it would be monumental. If they even survived it."

Her stomach churned. "It's their choice, what they do. I only laid out the facts." Carefully worded facts and half guesses. An absolute gamble, if she was being honest.

Rowan smirked. "And other than attempting to overthrow Maeve's throne? Any other surprises I should know about?"

Her smile faded as she lay back down, Rowan doing the same beside her. "There are no more." At his raised brows, she added, "I swear it on my throne. There are no more left."

The amusement in his eyes guttered. "I don't know whether to be relieved."

"Everything I know, you know. All the cards are on the table now."

With the various armies that had gathered, with the Lock, with all of it.

"Do you think you could do it again?" he asked. "Draw up that much power?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. It required being ... contained. With the irons."

A shadow darkened his face, and he rolled onto his side, propping up his head. "I've never seen anything like it."

"You never will again." It was the truth.

"If the cost of that much power is what you endured, then I'll be glad not to."

Aelin ran a hand down the powerful muscles of his thigh, fingers snagging in the rip of fabric just above his knee. "I didn't feel you get this wound through the mating bond," she said, grazing the thick ridge of the new scar. A trophy from the battle. She made herself meet his piercing stare. Did Maeve somehow break that part of it? That part of us?

"No," he breathed, and stroked the hair from her brow. "I've realized that the bond only conveys the pain of the gravest wounds."

She touched the spot on his shoulder where Asterin Blackbeak's arrow had pierced him all those months ago. The moment she'd known what he was to her.

"It was why I didn't know what was happening to you on the beach," Rowan said roughly. Because the whipping, brutal and unbearable as it had been, hadn't brought her to the brink of death. Only into an iron coffin.

She scowled. "If you're about to tell me that you feel guilty for it—"

"We both have things to grapple with—about what happened these months."

A glance at him, and she knew he was well aware of what still clouded her soul.

And because he was the only person who saw everything she was and did not walk away from it, Aelin said, "I wanted that fire to be for Maeve."

"I know." Such simple words, and yet it meant everything-that understanding.

"I wanted it to make things ... better." She loosed a long breath. "To wipe it all away." Every memory and nightmare and lie.

"It will take a while, Aelin. To face it, work through it."

"I don't have a while."

His jaw tensed. "That remains to be seen." She didn't bother arguing. Not as she admitted, "I want it to be over."

He went wholly still, but granted her the space to think, to speak.

"I want it to be over and done with," she said hoarsely. "This war, the gods and the Wyrdgate and the Lock. All of it." She rubbed her temples, pushing past the weight, the lingering stain that no fire might cleanse. "I want to go to Terrasen, to fight, and then I want it to be over."

She'd wanted it to be over since she'd learned the true cost of forging the Lock anew.

Had wanted it to be over with each of Cairn's lashes on the beach in Eyllwe. And all he'd done to her afterward. Whatever it might bring about, however it might end, she wanted it to be over.

She didn't know who and what it made her.

Rowan remained silent for a long moment before he said, "Then we will make sure the khagan's host goes north. Then we will return to Terrasen and crush Erawan's armies." He brought her hands to his mouth for a swift kiss.

"And then, after all that, we'll see about this damned Lock." Uncompromising will filled his every breath, the air around them.

She let it be enough for both of them.

Tucked away his words, his vow, all those promises between them and extended her palm in the air between them.

She summoned the magic-the drop of water her mother's bloodline had given her.

Mab's bloodline.

A tiny ball of water took form in her hand. Over the calluses she'd so carefully rebuilt.

She let the gentle, cooling power trickle over her. Let it smooth the jagged bits inside herself and sing them to sleep. Her mother's gift.

You do not yield.

When the Lock took everything, would it claim this part as well? This most precious part of her power? She tucked away those thoughts, too.

Concentrating, gritting her teeth, Aelin commanded the ball of water to rotate in her palm.

A wobble was all she got in answer.

She snorted. "Faerie Queen of the West indeed."

Rowan huffed a quiet laugh. "Keep practicing. In a thousand years, you might actually be able to do something with it."

She whacked his arm, the droplet of water soaking into the sleeve of his shirt. "It's a wonder I learned anything from you with that sort of encouragement." She shook the wetness from her hand. Right into his face.

Rowan nipped at her nose. "I do keep a tally, Princess. Of all the horrible things that come out of your mouth."

Her toes curled, and she dragged her fingers through his hair, luxuriating in the silken strands. "How shall I pay for this one?"

On the other side of the door, she could have sworn that cat-soft feet quickly padded away.

People gawked in the halls, some whispering as they passed.

The queen and her consort. Where do you think they've been these past few days?

I heard they went into the mountains and brought the wild men back with them.

I heard they've been weaving spells around the city, to protect it against Morath.

Rowan was still smirking when Aelin emerged from the communal ladies' bathing room.

"See?" She fell into step beside him as they aimed not for their room and ravishment, but for the hallway where food had been laid out.

"You're starting to like the notoriety."

Rowan arched a brow. "You think that everywhere I've gone for the past three hundred years, whispers haven't followed me?" She rolled her eyes, but he chuckled. "This is far better than Cold-hearted bastard or I heard he killed someone with a table leg."

"You did kill someone with a table leg." Rowan's smirk grew.

"And you are a cold-hearted bastard," she threw in.

Rowan snorted. "I never said those whispers were lies."

Aelin looped her arm through his. "I'm going to start a rumor about you, then. Something truly grotesque."

He groaned. "I dread the thought of what you might come up with."

She adopted a harsh whisper as they passed a group of human soldiers. "You flew back onto the battlefield to peck out the eyes of our enemies?" Her gasp echoed off the rock. "And ate those eyes?"

One of the soldiers tripped, the others whipping their heads to them. Rowan pinched her shoulder. "Thank you for that."

She inclined her head. "You're very welcome."

Aelin kept smiling as they found food and ate a quick lunch-it was midday, they'd learned-sitting side by side in a dusty, half-forgotten stairwell. Much like the days they'd spent in Mistward, knee to knee and shoulder to shoulder in the kitchen while listening to Emrys's stories.

Though unlike those months this spring, when Aelin set down her plate between her feet, she slid her arms around Rowan's neck and his mouth instantly met hers.

No, it was certainly not at all like their time at Mistward as she crawled into Rowan's lap, not entirely caring that anyone might stride up or down the stairs, and kissed him silly.

They halted, breathless and wild-eyed, before she could decide that it really wouldn't be a bad idea…

… If Aelin was being honest with herself, she was still debating hauling him into the nearest closet when they set off to find their companions at last. One glance at Rowan's glazed eyes and she knew he was debating the same.

Yet even the desire heating her blood cooled when they entered the ancient study near the top of the keep and beheld the gathered group. Fenrys and Gavriel were already there, Chaol with them, no sign of Elide or Lorcan.

But Chaol's father, unfortunately, was present. And glowered as they entered the meeting that seemed well under way. Aelin gave him a mocking smile and sauntered up to the large desk.

A tall, broad-shouldered man stood with Nesryn, Sartaq, and Hasar, handsome and brimming with a sort of impatient energy. His brown eyes were welcoming, his smile easy.

She liked him immediately.

"My brother," Hasar said, waving a hand without looking up from the map. "Kashin." The prince sketched a graceful bow.

Aelin offered one back, Rowan doing the same. "An honor," Aelin said. "Thank you for coming."

"You can actually thank my father for that. And Yrene," said Kashin, his use of their language as flawless as his siblings'.

Indeed, Aelin had much to thank the healer for.

Nesryn's sharp eyes scanned Aelin from head to toe. "You're feeling all right?"

"Just needed to rest." Aelin jerked her chin at Rowan. "He requires frequent naps in his old age."

Sartaq coughed, keeping his head down as he continued studying the map.

Fenrys, however, laughed. "Back to your good spirits, I see."

Aelin smirked at Chaol's straight-backed father. "We'll see how long it lasts."

The man said nothing.

Rowan motioned to the desk and asked the royals, "Have you decided-where you shall march now?"

Such a casual, calm question. As if the fate of Terrasen did not rest upon it.

Hasar opened her mouth, but Sartaq cut her off. "North. We shall indeed go north with you. If only to repay you for saving our army-our people."

Aelin tried not to look too relieved.

"Gratitude aside," Hasar said, not sounding very grateful at all, "Kashin's scouts have confirmed that Terrasen is where Morath is concentrating its efforts. So it is there that we shall go."

Aelin wished she had not eaten such a large lunch. "How bad is it?"

Nesryn shook her head, answering for Prince Kashin, "The details were murky. All we know is that hordes were spotted marching northward, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake."

Aelin kept her fists at her sides, avoiding the urge to rub at her face.

Chaol's father said, "I hope that power of yours can be summoned again."

Aelin let an ember of that power smolder in her eyes. "Thank you for the armor," she crooned.

"Consider it an early coronation gift," the Lord of Anielle countered with a mocking smile.

Sartaq cleared his throat. "If you and your companions are recovered, then we'll press northward as soon as we are able." No objections from Hasar at that.

"And march along the mountains?" Rowan asked, scanning the map. Aelin traced the route they'd follow. "We'd have to pass directly before the Ferian Gap. We'll barely clear the other end of this lake before we're in another battle."

"So we draw them out," Hasar said. "Trick them into emptying whatever forces wait in the Gap, then sneak up on them from behind."

"Adarlan controls the entire Avery," Chaol said, drawing an invisible line inland from Rifthold. "To pass north, we have to cross that river anyway. In picking the Gap as our battleground, we'll avoid the mess that would come with fighting in the midst of Oakwald. The ruks, at least, would be able to provide aerial coverage. Not so with the trees."

Rowan nodded. "We'd need to march the majority of the host up into the mountains, then—to come at the Gap from where they'd least expect it. It's rough terrain, though. We'll need to pick our route carefully."

Chaol's father grumbled. Aelin lifted her brows, but his son answered, "I sent out emissaries the day after the battle-into the Fangs. To contact the wild men who live there, if they might know of secret ways through the mountains to the Gap."

Ancient enemies of this city. "And?"

"They do. But at a cost."

"One that shall not be paid," the Lord of Anielle snapped.

"Let me guess: territory," Aelin said.

Chaol nodded. Hence the tension in this room.

She tapped a toot as she surveyed the Lord of Anielle. "And you won't give one sliver of land to them?"

He just glared.

"Apparently not," Fenrys muttered

Aelin shrugged, and turned to Chaol. "Well, it's settled, then."

"What is settled?" his father ground out.

Aelin ignored him, and winked at her friend. "You're the Hand to the King of Adarlan. You outrank him. You're authorized to act on Dorian's behalf." She gestured to the map. "The land might be a part of Anielle, but it belongs to Adarlan. Go ahead and barter it."

His father started. "You—"

"We are going north," Aelin said. "You will not stand in our way." She again let some of her fire kindle in her eyes, set the gold in them burning. "I halted that wave. Consider this alliance with the wild men a way to repay the favor."

"That wave destroyed half my city," the man snarled.

Fenrys let out a low, disbelieving laugh. Rowan snarled softly.

Chaol growled at his father, "You're bastard."

"Watch your tongue, boy."

Aelin nodded sympathetically to Chaol. "I see why you left."

Chaol, to his credit, winced and returned to the map. "If we can get past the Ferian Gap, then we continue northward."

Past Endovier. That path would take them right past Endovier. Aelin's stomach tightened. Rowan's hand grazed her own.

"We have to decide soon," Sartaq declared.

"Right now, we sit between the Ferian Gap and Morath. It would be very easy for Erawan to send hosts to crush us between them."

Hasar turned to Chaol. "Is Yrene anywhere near done?"

He leaned an elbow against the arm of his wheeled chair. "Even with the few survivors, there are too many of them. We'd be here weeks."

"How many injured?" Rowan asked.

Chaol shook his head. "Not injured." His jaw tightened. "Valg."

Aelin frowned. "Yrene's healing the Valg?"

Hasar grinned. "In a manner of speaking."

Aelin waved her off. "Can I see?"

They found Yrene not in the keep, but in a tent on the remnants of the battlefield, leaning over a human man thrashing upon a cot. The man had been restrained to anchors in the floor at his wrists and ankles.

Aelin took one look at those chains and had to swallow.

Rowan laid a hand on her lower back, and Fenrys stepped closer to her side.

Yrene paused, her hands wreathed in white light. Borte, sword out, lingered nearby.

"Is something wrong?" Yrene asked, the glow in her hands fading. The man sagged, going boneless as the healer's assault on the demon inside him halted.

Chaol steered his chair closer to her, the wheels equipped for rougher terrain. "Aelin and her companions want a demonstration. If you're up for it."

Yrene smoothed back the hair that had escaped her braid. "It's not really anything that you can see. What happens is beneath the skin—mind to mind."

"You go up against Valg demons directly," Fenrys said with no small amount of awe.

"They're hateful, cowardly wretches." Yrene crossed her arms and scowled at the man tied to the cot. "Utterly pathetic," she spat toward him—the demon inside him.

The man hissed. Yrene only smiled. The man—the demon-whimpered.

Aelin blinked, unsure whether to laugh or fall to her knees. "Show me. Do whatever it is you do, but show me."

Borte said, "It's not very exciting with them tied down, is it?"

Sartaq threw her an exasperated glare. As if this were a conversation they'd already had many times. "You can be on mucking duty, if you'd prefer."

Borte rolled her eyes, but turned to Aelin, looking her over with a frankness that Aelin could only appreciate. "Any other missions for me?"

Aelin grinned. "Not yet. Soon, perhaps." Borte grinned right back. "Please. Please spare me from the tedium of this."

"And you believe them?" Fenrys asked.

Hasar patted the hilt of her fine sword. "Our interrogators are skilled at retrieving the truth."

Aelin ignored the roiling in her stomach.

"So you free them," Gavriel said, silent for minutes now, "and then torture them?"

"This is war," Hasar said simply. "We leave them able to function. But we will not risk sparing their lives only to find a new army at our backs."

"Some willingly joined Erawan," Chaol said quietly. "Some willingly took the ring. Yrene can tell, when she's in there, who wanted it or not. She doesn't bother to save those who gladly knelt. So most of those she does save were either fools or taken forcibly."

"Some want to fight for us," Sartaq said.

"Those who pass our vetting process are allowed to begin training with the foot soldiers. Not many of them, but a few." Fine. Fine, and fine.

Yrene gasped, her light flaring bright enough that Aelin squinted.

Yrene slumped back, Chaol shooting out an arm to brace her. The healer only took a perch on the arm of his chair, a hand on her heaving chest.

Aelin gave her a moment to catch her breath. To manage such a feat was remarkable. To do it while pregnant ... Aelin shook her head in wonder.

Yrene said to no one in particular, "That demon didn't want to go."

"But it's gone now?" Aelin asked

Yene pointed to the man on the cot, now opening his eyes. Brown, not black, gazed upward.

"Thank you," was all the man said, his voice raw.

And human. Utterly human.

[tariah23]

It’s gonna take me all day to clean the closet….

[konigsblog]

When Virgin!König finally loses his virginity. (🌽)

Oh boy, I hope you're prepared to deal with a literal beast.

König can barely keep it together at the opportunity you've just offered to him. He's gone thirty-seven years without losing his virginity, and to say that he's pent up and overly desperate is a clear understatement. The thought of losing his virginity has him wide-eyed, choking on his words as he nods desperately.

He can barely keep his composure as he rips his trousers off, already dragging you closer to him while pulling your legs over his broad shoulders. His lengthy fingers pull at your damp cotton panties, tearing them off your figure while his hands find themselves up your skimpy, see-through tank top, tugging at your nipples as he rolls his clothed cock against your bare pussy, rutting his growing bulge against your wet heat.

It doesn't take König long to undress as he pulls his meaty dick from the tight confines of his boxers, feeling a couple sizes too small now that he has a raging hard-on. He drags the head of his swollen cock against your tight hole, collecting your sweet, nectar juices on the tip of his stiff boner. His thick, pink tip oozes out pearly beads of his creamy semen, and before you can warn König to be gentle and careful, he's already forcing himself inside. No preparation. Can you blame him? He gets his knowledge off of pornography, he has no proper experience with women.

Your insides feel heavenly and addictive, hypnotising König with each deep thrust. He breathes out through satisfaction and amusement, his sturdy hips bucking into your rear uncontrollably, stuffing your spongy, velvety walls with his twitching boner. He throws his head backwards through ecstasy, his blunt fingernails digging into the flesh along your waist, his grip becoming firm and his pace unforgiving. He can feel the way his large cock twitches and pulsates inside of your drooling cunt, becoming almost overwhelming and overstimulating for the virgin giant.

“Heilige Scheiße, kleine Maus—! Du bist so verdammt perfekt—so eng, feucht und warm.”

König spends the majority of his time watching pornography and getting himself off while dreaming of losing his own virginity for once, and now, he has everything he's ever dreamt of. He's been craving this for a ridiculously long time, to fuck a tight hole like yours. He practically drools and slobbers all over you like a rapid mutt, becoming animalistic and violent with his rough poundings.

He can't stop himself as he thrusts into you mercilessly and relentlessly, groaning and growling, bullying his girthy and swollen dick into your tightening walls while covering your slick and soft folds in drops of sticky load. He pumps his thick length into you forcefully one last time, pushing his broad and well-built hips right up against you as he feels himself completely lose control, barely lasting more than two minutes.

Fuck, you've opened König up to this, and now he's addicted. This is your fault! You better be prepared to take everything he has to offer, until he's passed out beside you, intoxicated and mesmerised by your cunt.

[hyuckiefluff]

dr dreamy | na jaemin

pairing: doctor!neighbor! na jaemin x fem.reader genre & wc: smut, fluff, crack (ish) | 18k summary: in which your infuriatingly hot neighbor ends up getting your box of sex toys delivered to his door by mistake content warning: explicit smut, breast play, oral sex (fem.receiving), brief mentions of sex toy usage, teasing, marking, dry humping, cowgirl (yeehaw), alcohol consumption, monster cawwwk jaemin (i didn’t make this up it’s real) a/n: hiiiii yes yes i know, it’s been forever and ive neglected you all so bad i’m so sorry ! i can’t even use the excuse of being too busy bc i was just in the worst writing slump of my life. but i hope i can make up for all those 10 months of radio silence with this long fic :) also it’s pretty different from what i’m used to writing. for once i wrote it all in lowercase bc i felt like this was lowkey a pretty unserious fic and that was the vibe it required lol it’s also my first time trying to write something “funny” but my humor is not that good still i tried lolz. also i'd like to add that i know as much about doctors as the next person so don't expect much accuracy in that regard. anyways hope you enjoy :)

your leg bounced anxiously as you stared at the photo the delivery guy sent, trying to figure out which door your package had ended up on. every single door in your building was the same plain white with no decoration, no plants, no quirky doormat to offer a clue. just a long, boring hallway of identical doors, and somewhere behind one of them was your package. 

"great," you muttered, already feeling the creeping frustration in your chest. 

your phone buzzed in your hand, and you barely had time to glance at the screen before answering. 

"sooo," came minnie's voice, far too chipper for this disaster, "did you like my gift?” 

“i’m gonna strangle you,” you hissed, rubbing your temples. 

“woah, you know i’m not into that freaky shit.” 

“i’m serious, minnie,” you groaned, dragging a hand through your hair. “the package got delivered to a different apartment. you must’ve put the wrong number on it.” 

“no way,” she gasped, already on the defensive. “i literally double-checked. triple-checked, even. it’s apartment 235.” 

"what?” you yelled, nearly dropping your phone.

this can’t be happening. out of all the apartments in your building… it had to be that one?

“minnie…” you took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay calm, "it’s 236. apartment 236.” 

she paused. “oh.” 

you heard her laugh nervously, and it took everything in you not to throw your phone across the room. 

“minnie…” you groaned, pressing your forehead against the wall. “i swear, if it’s what i think it is based on our last conversation…” your voice trailed off as a sinking feeling settled in your stomach. “my next-door neighbor, minnie. MINNIE. jaemin…oh my god.” 

“wait,” she said, voice sharp with interest. “is that the doctor you said is too hot for his own good?” 

“i did not say that.” 

“you did.” 

“no, i said he’s just… a nice sight for my eyes, okay? in a building full of old people, sue me for appreciating the view.” you rubbed at your face. “but i can’t face him if he saw what’s in that package. i just can’t.” 

“listen…” minnie drawled. “what if he’s into it, though? think about it.” 

“i’m hanging up.” 

“no, wait—” but you pressed the red button before she could finish.  

the most mortifying experience of your 24 years on this planet, and it hadn’t even fully happened yet. but you could see it clear as day: the box, him opening it innocently, and its contents—oh, god, the contents.  

the thing is, you and minnie had a dumb tradition. whenever life got a little too miserable or stressful, you’d send each other gifts. random, stupid stuff. a manga you’d been talking about, or a plushie of your favorite sanrio character. the catch was you could never reveal what it was until it was opened. it was supposed to be a surprise.  

except this time, you were sure minnie’s idea of a "surprise" was directly inspired by your recent rants about being, well… frustrated. as in, the sexual kind of frustration. you had a strong hunch about what she’d sent. 

you sank into the couch, letting out a long sigh. you had two choices: go over there and pray he hadn’t opened it, or stay here and hope the ground swallowed you whole. both seemed equally unlikely.  

as you stared at the ceiling, someone knocked on the door.  

three soft knocks. 

your heart stopped, your body jolting so hard you nearly rolled off the couch. no. no, no, no. not him. please not him. 

you tiptoed to the door like a cartoon burglar, eyes wide with panic. don’t answer. if you don’t answer, he’ll just leave it. you could grab it later. it’s fine. everything’s fine. 

but as you got closer, you heard the softest shuffle from the other side. he was still there. you peeked through the peephole and there he was indeed… jaemin. your very handsome, very distinguished doctor neighbor. standing there, holding your box.  

you backed away from the door like it was about to explode. no, nope, you’d just wait until he— 

you bumped into the side table. hard. and in a moment of unfiltered pain, you yelled, “FUCK!” loud enough to echo down the hall. 

a long pause. 

“hello?” his voice was clear through the door. smooth, polite. 

you shut your eyes so tight you saw stars. letting him think you weren’t home was six feet under now. 

"just get it over with," you muttered to yourself, quickly checking your appearance in the mirror to make sure you didn’t look at destroyed as you felt.

you opened the door with the kind of smile you'd give a police officer who just pulled you over. "oh! good morning, neighbor!" you practically chirped, voice too high, too fake. 

he smiled, sleepy but devastatingly handsome. his scrubs hung perfectly off his frame, and his hair was tousled like he'd just came from a long night shift…which he probably did. he had the kind of face that made you think life has favorites.

“morning,” he said, nodding his head. “sorry to bother you so early, but this…” he held up the box, fingers tapping the side of it. tap tap tap your eye twitched. “this got delivered to my place by mistake.” 

he was so calm. too calm. 

“oh,” you squeaked, your voice barely functional. “uh, yeah! no worries at all! my friend sent it, haha, she’s… forgetful like that. really bad with numbers. haha…” you trailed off. kill me now.

“right,” he said, eyes flicking to the box. “well, here you go.” he held it out to you. 

you reached for it but your hands, slick with nervous sweat, betrayed you. the box slipped.  

“oh no-”  

thud.

everything.  

everything spilled out.  

time slowed. your heart dropped straight into hell. 

boxes. bottles. wrappers.  

and then the pièce de résistance.  

a sex doll. 

a life-size, anatomically correct, male sex doll.

you didn’t know what kind of sound you made, but it was something between a gasp and a whimper. your knees hit the floor as you scrambled to grab everything wishing you could somehow erase the last five seconds of reality.  

“oh my god,” you whispered, cramming the boxes into your arms. “oh my god. oh my god.”  

“uhm,” he cleared his throat and you didn’t even have to look up to know what kind of face he was making. there were no words for this. none. zero.  

“thank you for bringing it to me! bye!” you choked out, voice cracking on the last syllable as you grabbed what you could and slammed the door shut with the force of a hurricane. 

you pressed your back to the door, sinking to the floor, arms full of colorful boxes of shame. you stared at them.  

a vibrator. a bottle of lube. a very, very anatomically correct doll still half in its box.  

"minnie." you said her name like a curse.  

your phone buzzed. it was a text from her. 

minnie (6:18am): how’d it go?  

“hell,” you muttered, tossing your phone across the room. 

you sat there for what felt like hours, the weight of embarrassment crushing down on you. moving out suddenly seemed like the only reasonable option. scratch that, you were moving countries. or planets. was mars habitable yet?

♡ ♡ ♡

for the next few days, life was nothing short of miserable. you called in sick to work because there was no way you could leave your apartment and risk running into jaemin. the idea of seeing him again made your stomach twist into knots. to anyone else, it might seem dramatic—after all, owning sex toys wasn’t some scandalous crime—but the sheer context of it all was unbearable. 

the cherry on top was that the box had clearly already been opened. jaemin had definitely seen what was inside before you’d even dropped it. and the fact that he just pretended everything was normal while standing there with a straight face? it was almost worse. no, it was worse. because now he probably pitied you for dropping it in front of him even after he tried to save you from the embarrassment. 

you groaned, burying your face into the couch cushions. where was the armageddon when you needed it?

you hadn’t left your spot in the couch days, and your body was starting to hate you for it. your back ached from the awkward angle you were lying in, and your stomach growled because you’d panic-eaten the last of your food last night. 

“this is pathetic,” you muttered, grabbing your phone. 

after scrolling aimlessly for a few minutes, you reluctantly opened your food delivery app. you ordered enough food for at least two days and prayed the delivery guy would bring it to your door. but of course, life hated you, so when you got the “can’t find parking” text, you sighed loudly. 

“naturally,” you mumbled, dragging yourself off the couch. 

you threw on the most disguising outfit you could find: a black beanie, your puffy winter coat, and oversized sunglasses. did you look like a wannabe celebrity trying to dodge the paparazzi? sure. but desperate times called for desperate measures. 

you texted the driver a quick be right down and bolted to the elevator, keeping your head low. 

when you reached the parking lot, you practically snatched the bag out of the driver’s hands and mumbled a quick thank you before rushing back inside. you were so close to safety now. 

you stepped into the elevator and leaned against the wall, finally letting out a sigh of relief. but, as fate would have it, you celebrated just a tad too soon. 

just before the doors closed, a hand shot through the gap. you froze. 

you smelled him first.

that cologne. you’d know it anywhere. 

your heart sank as jaemin stepped into the elevator, looking unfairly handsome as usual. you, on the other hand, looked like a fugitive. 

“good afternoon,” he said politely, his voice calm and smooth. 

“hi, uh…afternoon,” you mumbled, holding the bag of food up to your face like a shield. maybe if you hid behind it long enough, he wouldn’t notice it was you. 

“y/n?” 

shit. 

you glanced at him reluctantly, offering an awkward laugh. “oh, hey, jaemin… didn’t realize it was you.” you pushed your sunglasses up onto your head. “these things are so dark.” 

he chuckled, tilting his head slightly. “didn’t recognize you either. are you coming from an event or something?” 

you blinked at him, realizing how ridiculous your outfit must look. “oh, no, i—uh… i have a cold,” you stammered. “just trying to stay warm, you know?” 

“ah,” he nodded, his expression softening. “well, you should rest up. drink plenty of water and maybe some tea with honey, it helps soothe your throat. oh, and—” 

he started rattling off doctorly advice and you could only stare at him, dumbfounded. because, of course, not only was he handsome, but he was kind, too. unfair. completely unfair. 

“thanks,” you said, cutting him off before he could get too deep into his list of remedies. 

he smiled at you again, and for a moment, you swore your heart skipped a beat. “i was actually a little worried,” he admitted, leaning against the elevator wall casually. “i haven’t seen you around the past few days.” 

“oh. uh… yeah,” you said weakly, shifting the food bag in your hands. “just been laying low, don’t wanna get anyone sick.” 

“i see,” he said, his tone light but teasing. “you’re not hiding from me, are you?” 

your eyes widened, and your breath caught in your throat. was it that obvious?

“what? no! why would i be hiding from you?” you forced out a laugh, but it sounded fake even to your ears. 

he raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching like he was fighting a grin. “hmm. just checking.” 

“yeah, it’s because of the cold” you muttered, fidgeting with the handle of the food bag. “it’s nothing serious, though. i appreciate the concern.” you tried to sound nonchalant, but the tremor in your voice betrayed you. 

“good to hear,” he said, his eyes still on you. “but still, if it doesn’t get better in a few days, you should probably see a doctor.” 

“right. definitely,” you nodded quickly, eyes glued to the little numbers above the elevator door, silently willing them to move faster. 

but of course, the universe hated you lately. the elevator suddenly jerked to a stop, too soon for your floor. you flinched, and before you could even begin to hope it was just a regular stop, the overhead lights flickered once, then twice, and then… nothing. 

darkness. 

“oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” you groaned, tilting your head back against the cold elevator wall. 

“well,” jaemin’s voice came through the darkness, and you could hear the grin in it, “this is bad timing, huh?” 

“this is my villain origin story,” you muttered, crossing your arms as you slid down to sit on the floor. “this is how i finally snap and become one of those people who yell at customer service workers.” 

he laughed, and you hated how nice it sounded. like melted chocolate. warm, smooth, and way too easy to get addicted to. 

“guess we’re stuck for a bit,” he said, sitting across from you. you could only make out the faintest outline of him in the dim emergency lighting. “not a bad person to be stuck with, though.” 

“yeah, lucky you,” you deadpanned, cradling your bag of food. 

there was a pause. not an awkward one but it felt somewhat intimate and you didn’t like it. not because you felt uncomfortable but because you were scared of embarrassing yourself further.

“hey,” he spoke up again, softer this time. “about the other day…” 

no. absolutely not. this was not happening. 

“nope,” you cut him off, waving a hand like you could physically swat the topic away. “we don’t talk about that. ever.” 

“but i think we should—” 

“we don’t, jaemin,” you said firmly, pointing at him like a scolding parent. “it never happened. you never saw it. i never dropped it. in fact, none of it exists. it was a shared hallucination caused by gas leaks in the building. that’s my story, and i’m sticking to it.” 

he snorted, hiding a laugh behind his hand. “gas leaks?” 

“yep. toxic fumes. real health hazard,” you nodded, doubling down. “you should probably get management to check that out, doctor.” 

“i’m a neurosurgeon, not an HVAC technician,” he shot back, amused. 

“same difference,” you muttered. 

another pause. you could feel him looking at you, even in the dimness. 

“for what it’s worth,” he started slowly, like he was choosing his words carefully, “i wasn’t judging you.” 

“good,” you mumbled, picking at a loose thread on your coat. “because i’m not like ashamed of it, just… mortified, you know?” you finally glanced up at him, feeling a little braver in the low light. “there’s a difference.” 

he nodded, eyes warm and understanding in a way that made your chest ache. “there is.” 

you sighed, letting your head fall back against the wall. “i’m moving. i’ve decided.” 

he laughed, full and bright. “you’re not moving.” 

“i am, actually,” you insisted. “gonna change my name, get a new identity. maybe move to the mountains. live off the grid. it’s the only way.” 

“you’re ridiculous,” he said, still grinning. 

“you say that like it’s news.” 

silence settled over you both again, but this time it was lighter. less suffocating. you could hear him shift, stretching his legs out in front of him. he tapped his fingers against his knees like he was keeping time to a song only he could hear. 

“so,” he said after a beat, voice low and casual. “was that, uh… the first time you ordered something like that?” 

your whole face went hot.

“jaemin,” you warned. 

“what?” he asked, the picture of innocence. “just curious.” 

“don’t make me call those toxic fumes back in here,” you threatened, pointing a stern finger at him. 

he threw his head back laughing, and despite yourself, you smiled too.

"fine, i won’t bring it up anymore,” he said with a tired smile, rubbing the back of his neck. his fingers pressed into the muscle there, and he winced slightly. 

“you okay?” you asked, glancing at him with concern. 

“yeah, just a long day at work,” he replied, rolling his shoulder like it’d been bothering him for hours. 

“yeah, i can imagine. the life of a doctor must be pretty hectic,” you said, eyes flicking to his hands as they worked over the tense muscle. “but you gotta know your limits too… you’re not made of steel, you know.” there was a hint of worry in your voice, and you tried not to let it show too much, but judging by the way he glanced at you, he caught it. 

he looked at you for a moment, longer than usual, before nodding. “you’re right,” he let out a short breath. “i guess i’ve been burying myself in work lately. but it’s hard not to when it’s this time of the year… i’m a pediatric neurosurgeon and too many kids get sick and hurt during the summer.” 

“oh, definitely. i’m not even a kid and i always get sick in the summer,” you joked, hoping to lighten the mood. 

he laughed at that, his grin easy and genuine. “never too late to have fun during the summer,” he said, leaning back against the elevator wall. “just not too much fun. can’t party too hard with a cold.” 

“do i look like the kind of person who parties too hard?” you raised an eyebrow at him. 

“hmm,” he tilted his head with a slight (cute) pout. “i wouldn’t know. we don’t know each other that well.” he glanced at you, eyes flicking over you just once before smirking. “but you’re young and pretty, so why not?” 

your heart stumbled in your chest, and you fought to keep your face neutral. did he seriously just call you pretty so casually like it was a fact of life?  the dim lighting of the elevator became your saving grace, hiding the warmth that crept up your neck. 

"want a piece?" you asked, anxiously trying to change the subject, raising the bag of fried chicken in your hands. you shook it lightly to emphasize. "i have a feeling we're gonna be stuck here for a while, and it's still warm."

he raised an eyebrow, his grin widening into something a little playful. “don’t mind if i do.” 

he moved closer, close enough that your shoulders almost brushed, and you set the bag down in front of you both. “dig in,” you said gesturing with your hands toward the chicken.

“so… you’re a doctor…” you said after a couple minutes of eating in silence. 

“last time i checked, yeah,” he replied, glancing over at you with a faint smile. 

“so why’d you move into this shabby building with elevators that haven’t been serviced since the stone age?” you asked, pausing to tear into a chicken wing with zero grace or subtlety.

he stared at you, and you couldn’t tell if it was because of your question or the feral way in which you were eating. 

“i’m a resident, so i don’t make nearly as much as people think. plus, med school debt is no joke. this place fit the budget.” 

“oh,” you muttered, suddenly feeling a little awkward. “sorry if that sounded kinda judgy. people tell me i’ve got a chronic case of big mouth syndrome.” 

“it’s fine,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “at least you’re honest.” 

“what about you?” he asked, tilting his head toward you. 

“me? oh same story, different font. drowning in student debt, and this place was… available,” you said, popping another wing into your mouth. 

he nodded, and after that, the conversation picked up, flowing so naturally you forgot you’d technically only been speaking to him for a week. before that you had only shared neighborly greetings in the hallway.

you didn’t even realize how much time had passed until the elevator jolted suddenly, the lights flickering back on with a low, mechanical hum. 

by then, the bag of chicken was empty, and you knew more about jaemin than you ever expected to learn in one night.

♡ ♡ ♡

“i thought elevators had some kind of emergency backup power for blackouts,” minnie said, her face pixelated on your phone screen. 

“yeah but this building’s like 60 years old,” you muttered, adjusting the camera so she could see you better. you were sitting on the floor, painting your toenails a fresh shade of lavender. “the fact that it even has an elevator is a miracle.” 

“true, true,” minnie nodded, chewing on a piece of candy. her eyes lit up suddenly. “by the way, why does your sexy doctor live there? i thought doctors were supposed to be loaded.” she propped her chin on her hand. 

“he told me he just started his residency,” you explained, blowing gently on your freshly painted nails. “and he just started a new job at the hospital. they don’t get paid that well when they’re starting out.” 

“hmm,” she hummed knowingly. “so you spend a few hours stuck in an elevator with him, and suddenly you’re an expert on the medical field, huh?” 

you rolled your eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t get stuck. “it’s called having a normal conversation, you should try it”  

“i’m just saying,” minnie teased, tossing a gummy bear into her mouth. “you went in there hiding from him, and you ended up sharing chicken and life stories. i see you.”  

“there is nothing to see,” you shot back, tossing a pillow at your phone screen like she could actually feel it.  

“mm-hmm,” she hummed, leaning forward “so, did he mention it?”  

“mention what?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.  

“the box,” she said ominously, dragging out the word like it belonged in a horror movie trailer.  

you froze. “he tried to,” you admitted, tapping your fingers on the pillow in your lap. “but i shut him down real quick.”  

“oho, look at you,” she said, leaning back impressed. “miss assertive, didn’t think you had it in you.”  

“i have more pillows to throw, minnie. don’t test me.”  

“yeah, yeah, violent tendencies aside,” she waved you off, completely immune to your threats. “i hope this new confidence means you’re finally putting my gifts to use.” she tilted her head with the most innocent smile, which made it all the more sinister.  

your face went hot. so, so hot.

“i haven’t,” you lied, voice a little too high.  

“liar,” she sang, leaning closer to the camera. “i can see your shifty eyes. you definitely tried it.”  

“okay, fine, i did!” you snapped, throwing your hands up. “but it was a disaster.”  

minnie perked up with curiosity. “oh?”  

“yeah, oh,” you repeated, scratching your head. “it just… didn’t hit. it felt weird and i got frustrated, so i just gave up. plus i don’t know where you got that vibrator from but it almost burned my girlypop”  

“rookie mistake,” she sighed shaking her head dramatically. “that’s why you need someone with experience to help you out.”  

your brows furrowed. “what are you even saying right now?”  

“i’m saying,” she grinned like the devil himself, “that you have a perfectly qualified medical professional living right next door. i’m sure dr. mcdreamy wouldn’t mind giving you a consultation.”  

you blinked once. “minnie, you’re actually sick in the head.”  

“oh, please.” she tossed her hair over her shoulder, rolling her eyes. “he’s hot, he’s single, and you’ve already done half the work. you were sitting there eating fried chicken, and you’re telling me he kept throwing compliments at you? we all know you eat chicken like a truck driver, and he still thought you were pretty. use your resources, babe.”  

“he was hungry and stuck. he was probably grateful i offered him food. what else was he supposed to do?”  

“it’s so much more than that,” she said, holding up a hand, a clear signal for you to shut up and pay attention.  “i know when a man is laying the foundation and trust me, he’s building a whole mansion with your name on it.”

“you’re fully overreacting right now.”

one of minnie's strengths was that she wasn’t one to give up easily. but that also ended up being one of her flaws. you knew for a fact she wouldn’t drop this jaemin thing until she proved he had a thing for you.

“seriously, though,” she continued, leaning in so close her face was the whole screen. “he’s a doctor which means he’s like literally obligated to help people. it’s in the oath or something.”

“your point is..?”

“you know” she raised her brows suggestively “experienced hands, medical precision, and he owes you one for that chicken dinner. it’s the perfect setup.”

“you’re insane… like actually seek help.” you shook your head, trying to sound firm, but you were laughing too much to sell it.

“i’m serious,” she laughed along, “you literally blush whenever you talk about him. oh and you can’t even say his name without smiling.”

“that’s not true,” you said, shifting your position on the couch like that would somehow make your denial more convincing.

“mmhm,” she squinted her eyes, clearly not believing you.

“and for the record,” you added, jabbing your finger at the screen, “not every attractive man i meet is getting sexualized in my head. i’m not a beast.”

“no, you’re just a liar,” she shot back with a wide grin. “be real for like two seconds. i can see you smiling so hard right now.”  

“you can’t see anything,” you said, voice sharper now. “it’s the pixelation. your wifi is ass.”

“nice try,” she said, drawing out the words. “i know a bashful grin when i see one.”

“you stress me out,” you muttered, twisting the cap back on your nail polish with a little too much force.

“and yet, you call me every day.” she propped her chin on her palm, smile pure menace.

“i guess i’m a masochist,” you sighed, leaning back on the couch. “tragic, really.”

“mmhm, tragic is right,” she said, eyes narrowing into little crescents. “because now i’m gonna be your maid of honor at this wedding i didn’t even prepare for.”

“goodbye, minnie,” you deadpanned, reaching for the end call button.

“goodbye, future mrs. mcdreamy.” she winked at the camera, and before you could curse her out, she hung up.  

you sat there for a second, staring at your phone’s home screen, lips pressed tight.  

delusional.

she was delusional.

but that didn’t stop you from thinking about jaemin’s stupid grin. the way he’d looked at you while eating fried chicken, casual but present, like he was really there in the moment with you. the way his eyes lingered, just for a second too long.  

you shook your head, shoving the thought away like minnie’s words had wormed their way into your subconscious.  

nope.

you capped the nail polish, shoved your phone aside, and focused on literally anything else.  

♡ ♡ ♡

over the next few days, something shifted. not in a big, dramatic way but in a way you could feel.  

jaemin wasn’t just the polite neighbor you exchanged pleasantries with in the hall anymore. now, every time you saw him, there was this unspoken acknowledgment hanging in the air like: we shared fried chicken in a broken elevator for three hours.

 this new attitude towards you was giving you whiplash. he was… extra friendly now. he smiled more, spoke to you first, acted like you were both in on some kind of inside joke. it wasn’t bad… but it wasn’t normal either.  

“morning, y/n,” he’d say as you both waited for the elevator, eyes crinkling like he’d already thought of something funny.   

“morning,” you’d reply, your gaze locked firmly on the floor. the tiles were suddenly fascinating. 

but then you’d catch the faintest trace of his cologne—the same one you’d inhaled way too much of in the elevator—and suddenly, the tiles weren’t so interesting anymore. so you’d try to sneak a glance or two, and when he wore his doctor’s coat and glasses, you couldn’t help but ogle. he was so ridiculously handsome. everything about him practically begged for you to admire. his sharp jawline, his dark eyes framed by impossibly long lashes, his lips always pink and effortlessly moisturized, his hair neatly trimmed in the back but just a bit longer in the front, falling perfectly right above his thick brows.

and he had the most captivating smile, so white it almost blinded you, and despite thinking he was the serious type at first, you quickly realized he was incredibly expressive. he communicated so much with just his brows, and it seemed impossible for him to speak without a subtle smile tugging at the corners of his lips. like what was so funny? that you were crushing hard on him and it was kind of disrupting your life?

he was also too relaxed around you. way too relaxed. how was he so calm when he’d seen you in your most unhinged states? meanwhile, you could still feel the ghost of that moment hovering over you like a neon sign flashing "dildo girl spotted."

the third time you ran into him that week, you almost turned around to take the stairs, but you weren’t fast enough.  

“caught you,” jaemin said as soon as he spotted you, his grin sharp but not unkind. “thinking of bailing on me?”  

you paused like you were actually considering it. “don’t flatter yourself,” you said, walking forward like you’d planned to all along. “the stairs are just bad for my knees.”  

“oh, is that right?” he asked, stepping aside with a sweep of his hand. "good thing elevators exist, huh?”  

“lucky me,” you muttered, slipping inside. he followed right after, too close for comfort but not close enough to call him out on it.  

“lucky me,” he added, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, head tilted just so. "would’ve missed you otherwise."  

you had to bite back the cough that almost escaped when he said that, his lazy smile firmly in place like always.

you glanced at him, squinting. "what's with you lately?"  

“what do you mean?”  

“this,” you gestured at him vaguely. “all this… talking. you weren’t like this before.”  

“maybe i just needed an excuse,” he said with a nonchalant shrug “and three hours in an elevator with you was a pretty good one.”  

you blinked, momentarily at a loss. what were you even supposed to say to that?  

“did you rehearse that?,” you muttered, turning away before he could see the corner of your mouth twitch.  

“why, is it too corny? but you’re smiling,” he pointed out, you could hear his smile.

“no, i’m not.”  

“you are,” he said confidently, leaning in just a little like he was trying to see it up close. “it’s cute.”  

you flinched back, eyes wide. “don’t say that.”  

“why not?” he grinned wider, clearly pleased with himself. “it’s true.”  

“oh my god.” you turned so far away from him it was a miracle you didn’t phase through the wall. “stop talking.”  

“can’t,” he said, all too happy to keep going. “we’re closer now. shared chicken trauma and all that.”  

“that is not a thing.”  

“it is,” he nodded confidently. “you can’t just sit in a powerless elevator with someone for hours and pretend you’re strangers afterward. that’s, like, scientifically impossible.”  

“scientifically impossible?” you repeated, eyebrows raised. “you’re making things up.”  

“and here you are listening to all of it,” he shot back, tilting his head toward you, his gaze a little too sharp. 

checkmate.

you opened your mouth, ready to respond, but your brain was buffering.. 

"that’s what i thought," he said, his voice low and too satisfied, just as the elevator dinged.  

the doors opened. he didn’t move right away, gaze lingering on you as if he was waiting for something…or maybe just seeing how long you’d hold it.  

“you talk too much,” you muttered, stepping out with your head high like you had the upper hand.  

“I think you like it,” he called after you, the amusement in his voice so obvious you could practically hear the grin on his face.  

your heart did that annoying skip thing, and this time, you didn’t have an excuse for it.  

♡ ♡ ♡

things only got worse after that.  

jaemin, apparently, had decided that you were fun to mess with now.

he wasn’t over-the-top about it, though. no, he was too smooth for that. he played it cool, weaving little comments and actions into your interactions. a smile that lingered too long, leaning in just a little too close when he asked a question, throwing casual compliments like they didn’t mean anything.  

it was unfair, really. he’d gone from the quiet, polite neighbor, the one who worked long shifts at the hospital and mostly kept to himself,  to an actual menace in the span of three days. and somehow, you were the target of all of it.

the first time it happened, you brushed it off as coincidence. the second time, you thought maybe he was just being nice because you shared food with him so perhaps he thought that he owed you. by the third time, you realized: this man was having fun at your expense.

“new hair?” he asked casually one evening as you struggled with your keys outside your door.  

you froze, glancing up at him in confusion. “what?”  

“your hair,” he repeated, nodding toward you. “looks good.”  

your brows furrowed. “it’s the same as always,” you muttered, turning back to the lock that was absolutely refusing to cooperate.  

“huh.” he tilted his head, as if he were genuinely surprised. “then i guess it’s just you.”  

what does that even mean?!

your hands fumbled, and the key slipped from your fingers, clattering to the floor.  

jaemin’s laugh was soft but unmistakably amused. “you okay there?”  

“don’t you have patients to save or something?” you snapped, crouching down to snatch the key off the ground before he even had the chance to get it for you.

“off duty,” he shrugged, leaning against the wall next to you. his smile had that easy confidence you were beginning to associate with him now. “but i’ll step in if you need medical attention. emotional support counts too.”  

you groaned so loud it echoed in the hallway. “i swear, i liked you better when you were quiet.”  

“oh, you like me?” he asked, his grin widening just enough to make your stomach flip in protest.  

“past tense,” you shot back, finally shoving the key into the lock and turning it with more force than necessary.  

“if you say so,” he replied, drawing out the word like he didn’t believe you for a second.  

“you’re insufferable,” you muttered, turning around with your key in hand, gripping it like a weapon. “how do you live with yourself?”  

“one day at a time,” he replied, dead serious.

you shot him a glare as you finally shoved the key into the lock. it turned smoothly this time.  

“maybe you should try it,” he added, just as you opened the door.  

“try what?” you asked, already regretting engaging.  

“living with me,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. he even had the audacity to wink.  

you nearly slammed the door in his face.  

“goodnight, jaemin,” you snapped, stepping inside.  

“sweet dreams, love,” he called after you, his voice warm and smug in a way that lingered.  

you closed the door, locked it, and leaned your head against it with a groan that could only be described as deep emotional fatigue.

“then i guess it’s just you.”

you stayed pressed against the door for a little too long, thinking about it.  

he’s the worst.

the absolute worst.

♡ ♡ ♡

then came the visiting.  

you heard a quiet, rhythmic knock knock knock on your door one night. not frantic, not loud just steady enough to make you pause in the middle of scrolling through your phone.  

you frowned. minnie wasn’t the “surprise visit” type, and you definitely hadn’t ordered food. so who…  

when you opened the door, he was right there. 

jaemin.

he leaned against the doorframe, one arm propped against it, the other tucked into his pocket. his posture was relaxed, but his eyes sparkled with that familiar glint of mischief.

“what do you want?” you asked, gripping the door like it was a shield between you and whatever ridiculousness he was about to say.  

“so rude,” he said, mock-offended, though the lazy grin on his face betrayed him. “you invite a guy to share fried chicken once, and suddenly you’re heartless?”  

“oh, please.” you stepped back slightly, but you didn’t close the door. “i offered it. don’t act like i saved you from a tragic famine.”  

“true,” he agreed, his gaze dropping for a split second, flickering over you like he was trying to catch you off guard. “but since you brought it up, i was thinking about how we never got dessert.”  

you blinked, thrown off by the randomness. “what?”  

“dessert,” he repeated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “fried chicken’s great and all, but it’s not a complete meal. we missed out.”  

“and what, you came to my door at 9 pm to tell me that?”  

“yep.” he rocked back on his heels, completely unbothered. “i figured you owed me by now.”  

“owed you?” you repeated, narrowing your eyes. “for what, exactly?”  

“emotional support,” he said, grinning like he’d been waiting for you to ask. “that elevator ride? life-changing experience. bonded for life. it’s only fair you buy me dessert.”  

you tried to fight it. you really did. but the laugh slipped out anyway, betraying you.  

his grin widened, the kind that wasn’t just smug… it was triumphant.  

“fine,” you sighed, grabbing your phone off the counter. “but you’re paying next time.”  

“next time?” he echoed, his voice tilting upward just slightly. he leaned forward, close enough that the space between you suddenly felt smaller. “so you’re already planning our next elevator date?”  

oh, this man.

“don’t push your luck,” you muttered, pointing a finger at him while you tapped through your food delivery app. “i might close the door on your face next time.”  

“you like me too much to do that,” he said softly, and this time his tone wasn’t teasing.  

it was smooth, confident, and just low enough to make you glance up without thinking.  

your thumb hovered over your screen for a second too long before you forced yourself to break eye contact. you picked the first dessert you saw just to escape the moment and right before you got to pay he snatched the phone from you and put in his card details.

“so annoying,” you muttered.  

“gentlemanly,” he replied easily.

“you’re lucky i’m too tired to throw you out,” you shot back, already regretting how much you were letting him get away with.  

“lucky?” he asked, smirking. “i’d say you’re the lucky one. who else brings dessert and great company?”  

you groaned, loudly, just to drown him out.  

♡ ♡ ♡

thirty minutes later, you were sitting side by side on your couch, barely an inch between you, sharing a container of chocolate lava cake like it was the most natural thing in the world.  

“don’t hog it,” you grumbled, jabbing at his hand with your spoon when he took an extra-large bite.  

“it’s called portion control,” he argued, entirely unapologetic as he went for another.  

“it’s called stealing,” you shot back, scooping up a bigger piece just to even the playing field.  

“maybe,” he said, glancing at you with that maddening grin. “but you’re letting me get away with it.”  

“only because i don’t want to waste food,” you countered, though your voice lacked the conviction you wanted it to have.  

he leaned back slightly, his shoulder brushing against yours in a way that felt too casual to be an accident.  

“you’re really bad at lying, you know that?” he said, his voice dropping just enough to make you pause.  

you turned to glare at him, spoon still in hand, but the words caught in your throat when you saw the way he was looking at you.  

he wasn��t grinning anymore. not exactly.  

it wasn’t a smirk or a joke or one of those teasing little quips he always threw your way. it was… softer. almost curious.  

your heart stuttered before you could stop it.  

“and you’re annoying,” you said again, but this time it came out quieter.  

his lips twitched, like he was holding back a laugh.  

“you already said that but i think it loses meaning when you let me hang out with you for this long,”  he murmured.  

you didn’t reply. you couldn’t. not when the air felt so… different.  

so instead, you turned back to the TV, grabbed another spoonful of lava cake, and shoved it into your mouth as an excuse to not say anything.  

he chuckled softly, the sound barely audible over the hum of the TV.  

♡ ♡ ♡

the next few days went by pretty much the same. whenever you bumped into jaemin in the hallway, the parking lot, or even at the local cafe, his eyes would lock on you like a heat-seeking missile, ready to tease you in a way that you hated to admit was starting to feel oddly enjoyable.

but everything escalated the day minnie came to visit you.

it had been a while since you two last saw each other, given that she lived in a different city. as soon as she arrived, you were buzzing with excitement. but you’d forgotten one crucial thing… minnie had a rare, borderline supernatural ability to drive you absolutely insane.

“i can't believe you had a second chicken date with him and still didn’t jump his bones… have i taught you nothing?” she said, exasperated as she popped a handful of popcorn into her mouth. dawson’s creek reruns were playing in the background, and as if that show didn’t depress you enough, minnie’s relentless criticism of your non-existent love life was making it worse.

“it wasn’t a chicken date,” you groaned. “we had cake. and why would i jump his bones when we’ve only just started speaking more than two words to each other like, last week?”

“you don’t get it,” minnie said, turning to face you with the gravity of someone about to lecture you. “a man doesn’t just knock on your door asking you to have dessert with him unless he has a different idea of what 'dessert' is.” she raised her eyebrows suggestively.

“ew, don’t make that face,” you winced. 

“i’m serious, y/n. if you keep shutting down every man that’s interested in you, the only dick you’ll get is that inflatable one i got you.”

“not even,” you sighed, slumping against the couch. “i haven’t taken it out of the box yet. and i won’t. that thing already embarrassed me enough for the next two lifetimes.”

“but if you think about it, if it weren’t for tom, you’d still be secretly crushing on dr. mcdreamy.”

“you did not just name the sex doll tom,” you said, eyes narrowing.

“i think we should at least go out tonight since you’re clearly not gonna put the moves on your sexy neighbor.”

“absolutely not,” you shook your head, pulling the blanket tighter around you. “ i’m not about to waste my night talking to any guy who thinks 'intellectual debate' means arguing about protein powder.”

“okay, harsh… no wonder you’re single,” she muttered as she got up and started tapping away on her phone.

“who’re you calling?” you asked, squinting at her suspiciously.

“there’s only one person who can drag you out of this apartment,” she muttered with a sly grin. "hold on—hello? jake? yeah, guess who i’m with right now?" she paused dramatically, glancing at you with a wicked smile. "your favorite girl, obviously!" she snickered, tilting her phone just enough to snap a photo of you mid-protest. 

“dude, c’mon, i’m in my grandma pjs right now,” you said, pointing at the flowery pajama top you were wearing.

“how about we meet up at the neo club? yeah? awesome, and bring one of your hot friends,” she added, grinning like a cat that just cornered a bird.

she hung up, looking triumphant, but you folded your arms with a scowl.

“there’s no way i’m going out,” you said flatly.

♡ ♡ ♡

you still ended up going out.

but only because they offered to pay for all your drinks, and who were you to refuse such a generous offer?

it didn’t take long to spot jake. he was already stirring up trouble at the bar, his charm dialed up to 100 as he leaned in close, tossing out some line that had the bartender blushing so hard she had to look away just to keep it together.

“ugh, casanovas make me sick,” you grumbled, scrunching your nose as you watched him.

“stop harassing the lady, jake,” minnie said, grabbing him by the collar and tugging him away from the bar. he turned around with a mock-offended gasp.

“excuse you, she was absolutely enjoying that,” he said with an infuriating level of confidence. he wasn’t even wrong—the bartender was still grinning.

“whatever, tiger. look who’s out of her cave!” minnie announced, shoving you forward slightly.

jake’s eyes lit up the second he saw you. he practically lunged forward, wrapping you in a bear hug and lifting you off the ground.

“no way! my y/n! it’s been, what, four years since i last saw you?” he spun you in a small circle before finally setting you down.

“please don’t be so dramatic. we saw each other last year on your birthday,” you laughed, shoving his chest.

“too long for me, babe. you know seeing you is always a treat,” he said, giving you one of those overly saccharine smiles he knew would make you roll your eyes.

“when are you ever not flirting? is that your default mode? is there any way to reset you?” you said, tapping his forehead like you were trying to reboot a broken phone.

“you know you love it,” he winked, and somehow it was both annoying and charming at the same time.

“anyways, where are the drinks i was promised?” you extended a hand expectantly.

“here you go, princess,” he said, handing you a tequila sunrise with a flourish. “and here you go, troll,” he added, handing minnie a margarita.

“i’ll kill you,” minnie slapped his arm hard enough to make him flinch.

“ow, abuse! abuse!” he cried dramatically, clutching his arm as if he’d been mortally wounded.

“you’ll live,” minnie muttered, taking a sip from her glass.

the night was already off to a wild start, and you had a sinking feeling it was only going to get worse.

♡ ♡ ♡

“so you’re telling me the box with all the freaky shit minnie sent ended up being delivered to your neighbor?” jake was practically doubled over, clutching his stomach from laughing so hard. “and he opened it?”

“yeah, laugh it up,” you said, unamused as you swirled the straw in your drink before taking a long sip. you’d lost count of how many drinks you’d had, but the warmth in your chest and the slight buzz in your head told you it was definitely more than a couple.

“if i were you, i would’ve moved,” he said, wiping at the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “i’m trying to think of a time i’ve been that embarrassed and not even my drunkest moments come close.” he shook his head like he genuinely felt bad for you, though the grin on his face said otherwise.

“believe me, i tried to avoid him,” you said, gesturing with your drink in hand. “but somehow, after that, he started sticking to me like gum on a shoe.”

“i’m telling you, he wants you!” minnie slurred, her eyes barely staying focused as she swayed slightly in her seat. clearly, she was the drunkest one at the table, her words carrying that telltale wobble of too many cocktails.

“don’t start with that again,” you shot back, tossing a napkin in her direction. “he doesn’t want me. he just likes messing with me because he figured out i’m an easy target.”

“oh, really?” she said, eyes narrowing like she’d just come up with the most brilliant plan. “then call him right now. and if he answers, put him on speaker.”

“like hell i will,” you snorted, glancing at your phone. “it’s-” you checked the time “…literally 3am. why would i disturb him just to prove your silly little theories?”

“coward! coward!” minnie started chanting, slapping the table. jake immediately caught on and joined her, their voices syncing up in a way that only drunk friends could manage. “coward! y/n is a chicken!” they sang in unison, making sure to drag out the last word obnoxiously.

“ugh, why do i have friends like you two…” you muttered, covering your ears as their chanting grew louder. “okay! fine! stop that right now, i’ll text him. once.” you jabbed a finger in the air for emphasis, giving them both a stern glare that did absolutely nothing to dim their excitement.

“what do i even say…” you groaned, staring at your empty chat with jaemin.

“send him a picture,” jake suggested.

you thought about it for a second, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “fine,” you muttered, lifting your phone. fueled by alcohol and peer pressure, you decided on the classic "oops, wrong person" strategy. you snapped a quick selfie, pursing your lips into a kissy face for maximum effect. you didn’t even care that it was blurry or that you looked very obviously drunk. in fact, that made it funnier. you snickered to yourself as you hit send.

“he won’t reply, guys,” you said confidently, tossing your phone onto the table face-down. but barely ten seconds passed before you heard the unmistakable ping of a new message.

“you were saying?” minnie arched a brow, crossing her arms in mock satisfaction.

“it’s probably just some random notification,” you said with a shrug, but your voice wavered as you picked up your phone. you tapped the screen, eyes widening slightly at the name that appeared.

jaemin neighbor (3:02am): ‘thought you weren’t one to party hard?’ 

the message was punctuated with a little smirk emoji that somehow made it worse.

“what’d he say?” minnie asked, leaning in so far you thought she might topple over.

you barely had time to answer before another message popped up.

jaemin neighbor (3:03am): ‘don’t drink too much though, you’re still recovering from that cold. and don’t let strangers hold your drink.’

your eyes stayed glued to the screen, heart doing an odd little flip that you refused to acknowledge. 

“oh my god, he’s worried,” minnie gasped, hands flying to her face. “he’s literally whipped!” she squealed, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you back and forth with unhinged glee.

♡ ♡ ♡

after seeing jaemin's message, you decided you needed to get drunker to drown out the thoughts swirling in your head. by the time you got back to the apartment, your uber driver had to practically haul you out of the car. you were a complete mess, your feet barely cooperating with the ground beneath you. minnie ended up hitting it off with jake’s friend so she decided to leave with him to do god knows what dirty things.

“woah there!” you yelped as you stumbled, nearly falling backward.

“ma’am, what’s your apartment number?” the driver asked. all you could do was laugh and mumble some random string of numbers that didn’t come close to making sense.

“y/n?” a familiar voice cut through the fog in your mind, sharp and clear like a bell. it almost sobered you up on the spot. he was wearing his scrubs and his tired appearance told you that he was coming back from a long shift.

“mr. doctor is here!” you announced with unrestrained glee, throwing your arms up. the sudden movement made you lose balance, and you tilted sideways bumping into the driver.

“you know her, sir?” he asked, his forehead shiny with sweat, clearly desperate for an exit out of this.

“uhm, yeah, she’s my next-door neighbor. i’ll take it from here, thanks,” jaemin said, stepping in with the calm authority of someone who’s seen this exact scenario a dozen times before. with zero effort, he crouched down and hoisted you onto his back, his hands steady under your thighs to keep you secure.

“wheee!” you squealed, your cheek smushed against the back of his head.

“hold on tight, yeah?” he muttered, his tone dry but fond as he adjusted his grip on your legs.

inside the elevator, you got bold. maybe it was the tequila, maybe it was just you accepting your undeniable attraction to jaemin, but your hands found their way to his arms. you gave his biceps an experimental squeeze and then hummed, thoroughly impressed. “do all doctors got big, muscular arms or just you?” you asked, squeezing again as if conducting a very important scientific investigation.

jaemin’s lips twitched, like he was fighting back a smile. “do you always get this touchy when you’re drunk?” he replied, shifting you slightly higher on his back.

“oh wow, you smell so good,” you said, burying your nose in his hair. “like… like one of those fancy candles you’re not supposed to light cause they’re too expensive.” you giggled against his head, completely oblivious to the way his ears flushed pink at the compliment.

“i told you not to drink too much,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “this is dangerous, you know.”

“sorryyyyyy,” you whined, dragging out the word. “but you know what they say about alcohol… uh, ‘wine before whiskey, you’re feelin’ frisky’?” you squinted, clearly thinking very hard.

jaemin tilted his head, giving you a side-eye full of disbelief and amusement. “that’s absolutely not the saying,” he said, his voice low and warm with a hint of laughter.

“no?” you pouted. “then it’s… ‘drinks before thoughts, memories get lost!’” you declared with absolute confidence.

he let out a full, genuine laugh, his shoulders shaking under you as he carried you down the hallway. “close enough,” he muttered.

♡ ♡ ♡

in front of your door, you squinted at the digital lock like it had personally wronged you. you pressed one button, then another, and frowned when the screen blinked angrily. your brain felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, and trying to remember your code right was harder than trying to solve a riddle while underwater. 

“ugh, whatever,” you groaned, letting out an exaggerated sigh before plopping down on the floor, legs sprawled out.

“what are you doing?” jaemin's voice came from above, and when you tilted your head back, you saw him crouched in front of you, eyebrows raised.

“can’t remember the code, so m’ sleeping here. duh,” you replied with the kind of lazy confidence and lack of urgency only drunk people have. you reached out and booped him on the nose simply because he looked cute like a bunny in your inebriated mind.

he blinked, clearly thrown, before a grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “no, you’re not,” he said, shaking his head. he stood up, offering his hand. “come on.”

“ugh, fiiine,” you groaned, letting him pull you up, though you were basically dead weight. he slipped an arm around your waist to steady you, and the warmth of his hand pressed against the bare skin where your shirt had ridden up. the touch was casual but it sent a sharp jolt of awareness through you. 

you bit your lip to distract yourself from the sudden rush of heat. blame it on the alcohol. definitely the alcohol. 

“i never sleep in a guy’s apartment ‘til…” you held up your hand and started counting on your fingers, lips moving as you mumbled to yourself. “like the 6th date.” 

“that so?” jaemin glanced at you, his voice raspy in a way that made something flip in your stomach. 

“mmhm,” you hummed, leaning your weight against him. “gotta have rules, y’know? safety first.” 

“you’re not wrong,” he replied, guiding you toward his door with slow, careful steps. “but that logic’s got a flaw, don’t you think?” 

you squinted up at him, skeptical. “what flaw?” 

“you’re here with me, and we’re not even on date three,” he said simply, giving you a pointed look. 

you tried to ignore the fact that he considered the elevator and that night at your apartment as dates.

“that’s different,” you countered, waving a hand like that somehow made you right. 

he glanced down at you, eyes sharp but soft in the way they flickered across your face. “how?” 

you blinked, suddenly too aware of the space between you two — or the lack of it. his arm was firm around your waist, and you could feel the rise and fall of his breathing. 

“you tell me, doc,” you muttered, avoiding his eyes. 

there was a brief silence, just the quiet hum of the hallway lights and the soft shuffle of your feet. his fingers curled slightly against your hip, the pressure grounding but gentle. when he spoke again, his tone had shifted — quieter, steadier. 

“i’d never do anything to hurt you,” he said, voice sure like a promise. his eyes met yours, serious in a way that knocked the air right out of your lungs. 

you didn’t have a quick comeback for that one. 

he held your gaze for a moment longer before clearing his throat, eyes flicking away. “anyway,” he said, his voice back to its usual steady calm, “you can sit for a bit. i’ll get you some tea and food, sober you up.” 

“huh?” you blinked, your tipsy mind still trying to catch up after that intense moment you just shared. 

“sit,” he repeated, guiding you toward the couch like you were a stubborn cat. “tea. food. you’ll thank me later.” 

you flopped onto the couch with zero grace, still buzzing from everything.

your head was throbbing, but that wasn’t half as uncomfortable as the rapid thumping of your heart against your chest. it wasn’t normal. it couldn’t be normal. you pressed a hand to your chest like that might somehow slow it down.  

“what is this…” you muttered under your breath, tilting your head back against the couch. 

you were spiraling, no doubt about it. overthinking everything. it’s just jaemin, you reminded yourself. your neighbor. your kind neighbor. of course he’d say stuff like that. he’s a good person, and good people say things like "i’d never hurt you" all the time, right? it didn’t mean anything. didn’t mean a single thing. 

calm down, y/n.

you blew out a slow breath, trying to trick your heart into believing you were unbothered. 

jaemin came back moments later, a cup of tea in one hand and a small plate of buttered toast in the other. he’d ditched his jacket, now in just a fitted black t-shirt and scrub pants. you weren’t sure what was more distracting… the way the fabric clung to his chest and arms, or the way the veins in his forearms stood out as he set the plate down. you stared a little too long, gaze following the flex of his muscles.  

he’s just a guy, you thought, just a guy with arms that look like they were carved out of marble. 

“okay, drink this,” he said, nudging the tea toward you. his voice had slipped into his "doctor tone", soft but firm, like he fully expected to be obeyed. “you’ll feel better. if you feel dizzy or like you’re gonna throw up, let me know. i’ll go shower real quick, and you can shower after.”  

he disappeared into his room before you could respond

you sat there for a second, letting the silence settle around you. without him there, you finally took a proper look at his place. it was weirdly nice for a building as old and shabby as this one. sleek, modern furniture, spotless floors, a faint scent of something woodsy and clean. candles lined the windowsill, and he had an at-home gym tucked neatly in one corner. 

of course he does, you thought, he’s probably too busy saving lives to hit a real gym. 

you bit your lip, remembering the way his arms had felt around your waist. the heat of his skin seeping through the fabric of your shirt. and now, after seeing how built he actually was, it was starting to make a lot more sense. 

“ugh, stop it,” you muttered, shaking your head. it was just the alcohol messing with you. that, and the fact that you were definitely ovulating because there was no way you’d be acting like this otherwise. the combination was lethal. 

you reached for the tea, eager for something to snap you out of your head, but the second you took a sip— 

“ah—!” you yelped, dropping the cup. hot liquid splashed onto the floor, the mug clattering after it. thankfully, it missed your legs but your tongue throbbed like you’d just bitten into molten lava. 

“shit,” you hissed, sticking your tongue out like that might cool it down. 

“what happened?” jaemin’s voice came from the bathroom, sharp with concern.  

“‘s fine!” you tried to call back, but with your tongue still stinging, it came out garbled. “ihz ohkaay!” 

the sound of the shower stopped. you barely had a second to panic before jaemin burst into the living room, dripping wet, a loose towel slung dangerously low on his hips.  

you froze. 

oh.

oh my god.

if this were an anime, you’d have shot out a nosebleed so powerful it’d blast you into another dimension.  

“what happened?” he asked, eyes darting to the mess on the floor, then back to you. he crouched beside you, eyes scanning you likely looking for injuries. water dripped from his hair, trailing down the sharp planes of his face, his chest, his abs… 

his abs.

your gaze locked on the V-line that dipped beneath the edge of his towel, and your brain short-circuited. every coherent thought you’d ever had dissolved on the spot. you didn’t even realize you’d spoken aloud until you heard your own voice. 

“oh my god.”  

jaemin blinked, eyebrows drawing together in worry. “what?” 

“n-nothing!” you stammered, face heating faster than the tea had. you slapped a hand over your eyes like that might erase the image from your mind. it did not. it was burned in.

he frowned, his puppy-dog concern on full display. “i’m sorry, i should’ve warned you the tea was hot.” his gaze shifted to your tongue, still sticking out as you tried to cool it with air. his frown deepened. 

“izzokay,” you said, or at least tried to. with your tongue swollen and numb, it sounded more like “iz okeh, iz my fauwt.”  

“hold on,” he said, his tone dropping into doctor mode. “stay put. you might cut yourself on the glass.”  

he moved with quick precision, ducking into the kitchen and coming back with a towel and some paper towels to clean up. you, unfortunately, had nothing to do but sit there and watch him. and watch him you did.  

the way his muscles shifted under his skin with every movement. the flex of his back, the dip of his hips, the subtle pull of his abs as he crouched to pick up shards of glass. you sat there like a fool, cheeks blazing, unable to look away.  

he could model for anatomy textbooks, you thought, completely mesmerized. like, imagine turning to page 47 and seeing this man labeled as "muscular system: front view."

every part of him moved with that annoying grace certain people just had. the kind of grace that was only possible when you were stupidly, unfairly attractive.  

he wiped the floor clean and tossed the paper towels aside, giving one final glance at the spot to make sure there wasn’t a single shard left behind. then he turned to you.  

“all clear,” he said, standing to his full height. the towel on his hips slipped slightly lower, and your gaze shot to the ceiling so fast you almost got whiplash.  

“thanks,” you muttered, trying to keep your eyes anywhere but there. you still saw it in your peripheral vision. 

he tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “you sure you’re okay?” 

am i okay? absolutely not. your tongue was burnt, your pride was in pieces, and your brain was playing a slow-motion highlight reel of his abs. you were the furthest thing from okay.  

“yep,” you croaked, voice cracking at the end. 

“here you go,” he said, handing you a glass of cold water. “it should help your tongue.”

“thanks,” you mumbled, cradling the glass with both hands. you refused to look directly at him, eyes darting everywhere in the room. the slow drip of condensation on the glass suddenly became the most fascinating thing in the world.

“are you hot? you’re sweating,” he asked, leaning forward, his gaze landing on you with that soft concern he wore too easily.

you nearly spat the water back out. of course you were hot. this whole situation was hot. the room was hot. he was hot.

“it’s fine,” you blurted, shaking your head a little too quickly. “i’ll just shower.”

“yeah, sure. go ahead,” he said, nodding toward the hallway. “bathroom’s the door on the left.”

he glanced down at you, eyes flickering over your dress just briefly. instinctively, you tugged at the hem like that would magically make it longer. you should’ve known minnie was setting you up when she called this look “casually dangerous.”

“your clothes…” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “they don’t look super comfortable to sleep in, so if you want, i can lend you something.”

there was no reason for your heart to leap into your throat the way it did. it was a normal offer. a completely normal, helpful offer. but your brain decided to be weird about it. suddenly, you were picturing yourself in one of his shirts, fabric hanging loose on you, the scent of detergent and him faintly clinging to it. god, you needed help.

“okay,” you said, trying to sound normal, but it came out too fast.

“i’ll grab them for you,” he said, already heading toward his room.

as soon as he disappeared, you collapsed against the couch, exhaling hard like you’d just survived a boss fight. you dragged your hands down your face, letting out a muffled groan.

“pull it together,” you hissed at yourself.

walking into the bathroom didn’t help. the warmth hit you instantly, soft steam curling in the air. it smelled like aftershave and clean skin, and if there was a single coherent thought left in your brain, it got drowned out by the sensory overload.

“seriously?” you muttered under your breath, tilting your head back with a groan. “what am i, thirteen?”

the mirror was fogged up, so you wiped at it with your sleeve, only to be faced with your own reflection staring back at you like girl, really? you pressed your hands to your cheeks, feeling the warmth that had nothing to do with the steam.

“i’m normal,” you announced firmly to no one but yourself.

except you weren’t, and you knew it. it wasn’t just the alcohol making your brain short-circuit anymore. you were sober now, and this was just you being ridiculous. the neatly folded clothes on the counter didn’t help. a plain white shirt and a pair of sweatpants sat there, fresh and clean.

you eyed the sweatpants, then glanced down at your legs, already knowing how this was gonna play out. still, you gave it a shot, pulling them up your legs after taking a (very) long shower. unsurprisingly, they swallowed you whole, the cuffs dragging behind you. yeah, no. you’d trip over yourself in less than a minute. sighing, you snatched up the shirt instead and pulled it over your head. it slipped down past your hips, the sleeves flopping well past your hands, turning them into little paw-like stubs.

“this will have to do,” you decided with a sharp nod to yourself.

when you finally stepped out of the bathroom, jaemin was lounging on the couch, scrolling on his phone. his gaze flickered up at you, and for a split second, he just blinked, eyes tracking down your frame before quickly darting back to his phone.

“where are the pants?” he asked, lips quirking up just slightly at the corner.

“too big,” you said. 

“hmm” he hummed, looking up and letting his gaze drag just a little slower this time, eyes sharp with mischief. his tongue pressed against his cheek, a lopsided grin threatening to break free. “i see”

if your heart was pounding before, it was in full percussion solo mode now. but you just flopped down beside him, acting like everything was cool, like you weren’t hyperaware of every inch of bare skin peeking out from under the too-big shirt.

you glanced at the clock on the wall — 4:30 a.m. blinked back at you in dim red light. too late to be awake but too early to call it morning. your eyes shifted to jaemin, and you could see the weight of exhaustion hanging on him. his blinks were slower, his body slouched deeper into the couch cushions.  

“jaem…” the nickname slipped out without warning, soft but certain. his eyes lifted to you immediately.

“you can go to sleep. i’m fine,” you said with a small smile, hoping it was convincing. “and… thank you. for everything. you’re too nice to me.”

his gaze lingered on you, steady and unguarded, like he was committing you to memory. then, his lips curved slowly into a smile. not his usual teasing grin but something gentler, sweeter. it hit you square in the chest, and you had to physically fight the urge to lean forward and kiss him.  

you did not win that fight.

instead, you moved on instinct… leaning in and wrapping your arms around him. the moment you did, you panicked. it felt stiff, clumsy, like you’d misread the whole situation. you were just about to pull away when his arms slid around your waist, slow but sure.  

he pulled you in, pulled you all the way in, until you were practically draped over him. your breath caught in your throat, heart thudding so hard you swore he could feel it.  

his head dipped down, face tucked into the curve of your neck. the warmth of his breath hit your skin in soft bursts, and his hold on you tightened just a little more.  

“it’s my pleasure,” he murmured, voice low and raspier than it had been all night. his lips brushed against your collarbone as he spoke, “always.”

good god, you nearly let out a sound you’d never be able to live down. every nerve in your body was on high alert. it had been so long since you’d been held like this.

his nose nudged against your neck lazily. you felt the butterflies in your stomach riot, wings frantic against your ribs.  

“jaem…” you said, but it came out too soft, too breathless to sound like an actual warning.  

“you smell good,” he muttered, voice all sleep and satisfaction. “you always smell good.” he breathed you in.

lord, have mercy.

“i think we should both sleep,” you murmured, but neither of you moved. neither of you even thought about moving.  

“yeah,” he said, voice low and uneven.  

“yeah,” you echoed, but it sounded less like agreement and more like an excuse for staying right where you were.  

he pulled back just enough to look at you, but his arms stayed firmly around your waist. his eyes flickered down to your lips. on reflex, you wet them with a quick swipe of your tongue, suddenly self-conscious. his gaze darkened and you swore you felt the shift in the air.  

“stop me,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

but stopping him didn’t even cross your mind. not when he was looking at you like that. not when his face inched closer, closer…

his lips met yours softly at first, hesitant, like he was waiting for you to decide. you decided quickly. your hands slipped into his hair, pulling him in as you kissed him back with everything you’d been holding in all night.  

he responded instantly. his hand cupped the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair to hold you in place, deepening the kiss until it wasn’t soft anymore.

his other hand found your hip, gripping you firmly as he shifted you on top of him, his touch guiding you like he knew exactly where he wanted you to be. dangerous. this was so, so dangerous. 

because you were only wearing that stupidly oversized shirt and the flimsy scrap of underwear underneath it. and when you settled fully onto his lap, you felt everything.

he must’ve felt it too, because his breath stuttered, and a needy groan escaped him, muffled against your lips. you felt it vibrate through your whole body, made you shiver as if he’d pressed his mouth to your spine instead.  

his hand on your hip squeezed, fingers digging in just a little harder. 

the kiss grew messier, wetter, breaths and tongues tangled together in a way that felt far past the point of no return. it didn’t help that his other hand left your neck, sliding down, fingertips trailing along your side before slipping under the hem of the shirt.  

his hand slid up and up until…

he froze the second he realized. his palm pressed against bare skin, no bra, no barrier. you felt his breath hitch at the same moment you heard it.  

“fuck,” he groaned into your mouth, his voice rougher now, heavier. his fingers spread wide, covering as much skin as he could reach, his palm warm and steady against your ribs.  

and when his thumb brushed up, grazing just barely under the curve of your breast, the sound you made was far too needy. his gaze flicked back up to yours. like he was asking. like he was giving you one last out.  

you didn’t take it.  

his hand moved again, bolder this time. his palm slid over the curve of your breast, warm and firm, fingers curling around it as if it belonged to him. you sighed at the contact, eyes fluttering closed as your head tipped forward. it wasn’t enough. you didn’t know what “enough” would be, but it wasn’t this.  

he must’ve felt it too, because his other hand rose to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin in slow, soothing circles. he tilted your face up, and for a moment, you thought he’d kiss you again. you tilted toward him, lips parting, but he had other plans.  

instead, he leaned in and pressed his lips just beneath your ear. the warmth of his mouth sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could even process that, he was moving lower. he kissed his way along your neck, slow and steady, with the kind of patience that made your heart feel like it was on a countdown. 

and then the kisses changed. his teeth grazed your skin, his lips sealed over the spot, and he sucked hard enough to make you gasp. your hands flew up, gripping at his shoulders as he trailed love bites down to your collarbones, marking you in a way that felt possessive, the kind you’d see after he was gone.  

“jaemin,” you whispered, your fingers digging into his shirt. his name barely sounded like a name anymore.  

his only answer was a low hum against your collarbone, his hand still working under your shirt. his fingers traced lazy lines along the sensitive skin beneath your breast, and just when you thought he was going to stay gentle, he pinched your nipple between his fingers.  

you gasped sharply, hips jolting forward on reflex. “oh—”

he didn’t stop. he rolled it slowly between his fingers, feeling out every little reaction you gave him, every twitch and shiver. your body betrayed you, arching into his touch, and the way he smiled against your neck told you he knew exactly what he was doing to you.  

instinct took over before you could think it through. your hips rocked forward against his lap — once, twice — chasing relief from the ache that had been building low in your stomach for too long. you felt the slickness between your thighs, hot and damp, soaking through the thin fabric of your underwear and seeping onto his sweatpants.  

he felt it too. you knew he did from the sharp intake of breath he took, from the way his hands squeezed tighter his fingers digging into your hip, his other hand cupping your breast with just a little more pressure.  

“fuck,” he groaned, head falling forward, his forehead pressing against your shoulder. his hips shifted beneath you, his arousal impossible to miss now. he was hard, and every roll of your hips dragged against him perfectly, making him curse under his breath.  

the heat of it all was unbearable, and you had no one to blame but yourself. but at this point, did it even matter?  

he lifted his head, jaw tight, eyes half-lidded. his gaze flickered from your face to where your hips met his lap, his tongue darting out to wet his lips 

“i don't know how much longer i can hold back…” his voice was strained.  

you blinked down at him, heart thudding hard against your ribs. every nerve in your body felt like it had been lit on fire, but somehow, you still managed to smile.  

“who told you to hold back?”you said, voice soft but sure.  

“shit…” he muttered, his voice low and wrecked. his fingers dug into your hips, guiding them down against him with a deliberate pressure that had your breath hitching in your throat.  

it wasn’t just you moving anymore. he was moving you, rocking you back and forth against him faster, tired of pretending you weren’t both desperate for it.  

your head tipped back as a broken moan spilled from your lips. the friction was too good, just the right amount of pressure to have your thighs trembling. the heat between you had gone from warm to blistering, every grind making you more sensitive, more aware of the damp mess you were both making between his sweatpants and your underwear.  

his eyes locked on you, not wanting to miss a single second of it… the arch of your back, the part of your lips, the way your breath caught every time you sank down a little harder. 

“look at you,”  he breathed, voice rough and half-laughing. “getting this worked up over a little humping”

you leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his. “i’m clearly not the only one,” you shot back breathlessly..  

his lips were back on you in an instant,  rougher than before, all teeth and tongue. his hands slid up your back, under his shirt you were wearing, fingers dragging against bare skin. his nails scratched lightly at your spine, sending chills down your whole body, and you gasped into his mouth.  

he didn’t let you pull away. his lips chased yours, like he’d been starving for this, like now that he’d had a taste, there was no way he was stopping. he tilted his head, deepening the kiss, and your body moved on instinct, hips rolling harder against him.  

“fuck, that’s it,” he groaned, head falling back against the couch as he sucked in a breath through his teeth. his hands slid down to your thighs, gripping them tight as if to ground himself, but all it did was spur you on.  

you leaned forward, trailing kisses down his jaw, his neck, biting just enough to feel him shudder beneath you. his pulse was wild under your lips, and when you grazed your teeth against it, his hips bucked up so hard it knocked the air out of your lungs.  

“you’re making it so hard to be soft right now,” he said through gritted teeth, head tipped back, neck bared for you like an invitation. his eyes flicked down to where you sat on him, where the line between you two had blurred so badly it didn’t seem to exist anymore.  

“then don’t be,” you whispered against his ear, biting down on the lobe just to hear him curse again. “nobody asked you to be soft.”

that was all it took. his grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your skin with purpose. his next move was fast—you were on your back before you could register it, his body hovering over you, his weight pressing you down in a way that made your heart race in your chest.  

his eyes met yours, pupils blown wide, hair falling into his face. he looked like a mess and it was perfect.

“say that again,” he said, voice nothing but gravel and breath. his hands slid up your thighs, pushing them apart, the slow drag of his touch enough to make you squirm. “say it again so i know you mean it.”

your chest rose and fell with each shallow breath, and you reached up, fingers threading through his hair.  

“nobody,” you whispered, tugging his head down just enough to make sure he heard you, “asked you to be soft.”

for a second, he didn’t move. just stared down at you like he’d never wanted anything more in his life than to eat you up.

then he leaned in, and when he kissed you this time, it wasn’t soft or tentative or testing the waters. it was raw, hungry, and so deep it knocked the air out of you. his hands moved with purpose, sliding up your thighs, pushing his shirt higher and higher until the air hit bare skin.  

everything was heat and pressure and need. he was all you could feel, all you could hear — his breath heavy and uneven, his name falling from your lips like it was the only word you knew.  

and when he finally pressed his forehead to yours, eyes squeezed shut like he was fighting to hold himself together, you knew you’d both already lost.

the next thing you know, his hands are tugging your shirt up and over your head, the fabric barely brushing past your arms before it’s gone. the cold air hits your skin for half a second before jaemin’s mouth replaces it, hot and relentless as he traces the curve of your collarbone, his lips dragging lower, slower.

when his mouth finally closes around your right breast, it’s warm and wet and just enough to have you mewling. his tongue flicks over your nipple before sucking it into his mouth, his teeth grazing it just lightly, sending a sharp jolt of heat straight down to your core.  

his free hand slides lower, fingers trailing down your stomach, over your hip, and slipping beneath the waistband of your lace underwear like it’s the most natural thing in the world. he moves without hesitation, fingers seeking out the slick mess waiting for him, and the second he finds it, he lets out a low, rough groan against your skin.  

“god, you’re so fucking wet,” he mutters, pulling off your breast with a slick pop, his breath fanning across your skin. he glances down between your legs, his gaze so heavy you feel it like a touch. his eyes darken, his tongue darting out to wet his lips like he’s hungry just looking at you.  

he hooks his fingers into the sides of your underwear, dragging them down in one slow pull, eyes locked on you like he’s scared to blink and miss it. the fabric barely makes it past your knee before he’s already looking back up at you, his pupils blown wide, lips parted with the kind of need that makes your chest feel too tight.  

“let me eat you out,” he says, and his voice is rough and desperate.

you bite your lip like you’re thinking it over, but you know you’re going to say yes. you just like seeing him like this — all unsteady and breathless, too far gone to hide it.  

“please,” he says again, this time more ragged, his voice cracking at the end like he might actually lose it if you make him wait any longer.  

“okay,” you say, and it’s all he needs.  

he’s on you in a heartbeat, sliding down your body so fast it’s dizzying. his hands are firm on your thighs, pulling them apart, spreading you wide until there’s nowhere left to hide. his gaze flicks up one last time, meeting yours like he’s checking, like he’s giving you one last chance to stop him.  

but you don’t. you won’t.

he presses his fingers to your folds, parting you slowly, exposing everything to him, and the breath he takes is deep, like he’s savoring the moment before the fall.  

then he leans in.  

his nose brushes against you first, just a soft nudge that has your hips twitching on instinct. then his tongue follows in one long, slow drag from bottom to top that has your breath stuttering in your chest. his grip on your thighs tightens, fingers digging into your skin like he’s steadying himself as much as you.  

he moans against you, a deep, satisfied sound that you feel as much as hear, and his tongue dives back in, licking at you like you’re his favorite thing to taste. the movements are slow at first, deliberate, his tongue exploring every part of you like he’s trying to figure out exactly what makes you fall apart.  

and you are falling apart.  

your head tilts back, eyes fluttering shut, lips parting as you let out a shaky, breathless moan. your hips twitch up, and his hands are right there to hold you down, keeping you still as his tongue moves with more certainty, more purpose, licking you with long, messy strokes that make you gasp.  

his mouth doesn’t slow, if anything, it grows more determined. his tongue moves with precision now, circling that sensitive spot before flicking against it in quick, teasing bursts that have your hips jumping despite his firm grip.  

“fuck, jaem—” your voice breaks on his name, your hands gripping the sides of the couch, searching for something, anything to ground yourself. but there’s nothing. nothing but him, his mouth, the obscene, wet sounds filling the air, and the heat building low in your stomach.

he groans again, the vibration shooting through you, his tongue flattening against you before he drags it up,

“taste so sweet,” he murmurs into you, his voice muffled, every word spoken straight into your skin. 

“could stay here all night.”

the heat in your belly twists tighter at that, something about the way he says it, like he means it, like he’d ruin himself for this… for you. you’re already too close, and he knows it. he can feel it in the way your thighs tense, in the way your breath catches and your hips press up into him like you’re chasing something you can’t quite reach.  

he hums in satisfaction, his lips wrapping around that sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking just once, just enough to make your whole body jolt.

“god, jaem, i’m—” you don’t even finish the sentence before it hits you, crashing over you in waves so intense you forget how to breathe. you squeeze your eyes shut, mouth falling open on a silent cry as the pleasure hits you all at once, white-hot and overwhelming. he doesn’t let up, his tongue flicking against you through it, coaxing every last tremor from your body.  

your fingers find his hair, tugging hard, half to ground yourself and half to make him stop because it’s all too much. he groans at the pull, but it only seems to spur him on, his hands tightening on your hips, keeping you pressed against his mouth.

“jaemin,” you say it firmer this time, tugging again, and finally, finally he pulls back, his lips and chin shiny with evidence of what he’s done.

“couldn’t help myself,” he says, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth like he’s savoring every last bit of you. his eyes are wild, pupils blown wide, his hair a mess from where you tugged at it.  

“you look so pretty when you cum,” he says, voice low and husky, and you hate the way your heart lurches in your chest as if he’s just said something sweet.  

“you’re crazy,” you mutter, still catching your breath, wiping the sweat from your forehead.  

“crazy for you,” he fires back, grin widening like he knows how corny it is and says it anyway.  

and for some reason, it makes you laugh. a soft, breathy thing you can’t hold back. 

in one smooth motion, he’s crawling back up your body, his hands framing your face as he settles his weight over you. his lips press to yours, soft at first, then deeper, hungrier. reminding you exactly where that mouth has just been. you taste yourself on him, and it sends a fresh wave of heat through you.  

“not done with you yet,”  he says against your lips, his hips pressing down against yours, and fuck, you feel how hard he is, the thick, solid pressure pressing right where you need it.  

“then don’t stop,” your fingers slide down his back, nails scraping lightly.

he flashed a wicked grin, and before you could process it, you let out a startled squeal as he hoisted you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. his arms were firm around your legs, his shoulder pressing into your stomach, and you could feel the strength in every stride as he carried you from the living room to his bedroom. 

"jaemin!" you protested, your fists lightly tapping his back, but it only made him chuckle.

"keep squirming, baby. see where that gets you," he teased.  

he laid you down on the bed with surprising gentleness. the cool, fresh scent of his sheets surrounded you, soft fabric meeting warm skin. it was a fleeting comfort, though. you both knew they wouldn’t stay this neat for long. 

jaemin peeled off his shirt with one smooth motion, revealing the sharp lines of his chest and the taut muscles of his stomach. you bit your lip as he kicked off his sweatpants, leaving him in just his boxers. his gaze was locked on you, dark eyes brimming with heat and amusement, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking.  

you watched mesmerized as he pulled open the drawer of his nightstand, fingers searching until they found a small foil packet. he ripped it open with practiced ease, and when the condom rolled out into his palm, your eyes widened. 

"that’s not the right size," you blurted out, half-laughing. "no way."  

his eyebrows lifted, a challenge sparking in his eyes. "oh? wanna bet?" 

then his boxers hit the floor.  

oh.  

your breath caught in your throat as your eyes dropped, taking in the sight of his dick. heat flooded your face. what the hell.

“close your mouth, baby,” he said, smirking. “unless you’re planning to put it to use.”  

"shut up," you muttered, glancing away, cheeks blazing. "are you gonna do it or not?"  

“do what?” he asked innocently, even as he climbed onto the bed, caging you in with his body. he hovered just above you, his grin infuriatingly smug.  

“you know what.”  

“hmm. don’t think i do,” he murmured, eyes dropping to your lips. “wanna say it for me, pretty girl?”  

you pressed your lips together, heart thudding in your chest harder every second. you could feel the weight of him, his warmth, the tension that hung in the air like a live wire.  

“fuck… me, jaem,” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper.  

he tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “louder, baby. i know you can be louder.”  

he wasn’t wrong. flashes of earlier moments filled your mind, the way you were moaning and whimpering definitely wasn’t quiet. you swallowed the last bit of your hesitation.  

“fuck me. please.”  

he hummed, satisfied, his grin softening as he hooked his hands behind your knees and tugged you down toward him. you let out a quiet gasp, suddenly flat on your back, with him positioned directly above you. his body hovered just close enough that every shift of movement made you feel him.  

your eyes flickered up to his face, and for a second, he wasn’t teasing anymore. his gaze was steady, searching, his eyes dark but kind. he reached out, fingertips tracing your jawline with such tenderness it made you ache in a different way.  

“you okay, baby?” he asked softly, letting you know he’d stop everything if you said no.  

your heart swelled at the care in his voice.  

you nodded, fingers curling around his shoulders.  

he leaned in, close enough for his breath to fan across your face. “need words, love.”  

“i’m okay, jaem,” you said more firmly, gazing up at him. 

his eyes lingered on yours a moment longer before he nodded. he took a pillow and carefully placed it behind your lower back 

"good girl," he murmured.  

he shifted, his hands steady on your hips, grounding you as he lined himself up. the anticipation coiled tightly in your stomach, a nervous, thrilling buzz. you felt him prodding at your entrance, he swiped his tip up and down, the action made you clench in anticipation. he eased in, inch by inch, the stretch stealing every ounce of air from your lungs.  

his head dropped, forehead pressed against yours, jaw tense as his eyes squeezed shut. a soft curse left his lips. “fuck, so… so tight,” he groaned, his voice wrecked. his fingers dug into your hips, holding you still.

the moans spilling from your lips mixed with his name, coming out soft and unrestrained. every inch of him felt like too much, the kind of stretch that made your breath catch and your nails press into his shoulders. it had been so long since you'd had sex that you'd almost forgotten what it felt like, and even back then, no one had ever filled you like this. jaemin was thicker, longer, and the difference was impossible to ignore. 

"baby, if you keep squeezing me like that…" he laughed breathlessly, his fingers drawing slow, steady circles on your hip like he was trying to soothe you. “i might not make it all the way in.” 

“s’rry, you’re… just too big,” you muttered, voice coming out more wrecked than you intended. 

he bit down on his lip, eyes flicking down to where you were connected. the sight alone was about to undo him. "yeah?" he breathed, a little too satisfied with himself. his hand slid up, fingers pressing into your waist just a bit harder, grounding you in place as he pushed in deeper. 

the pressure was overwhelming, every slow inch making you feel like you might fall apart right there beneath him. and the deeper he went, the more you swore you wouldn’t last long. the tight, aching pull in your stomach was already coiling up, twisting tighter with every second.  

“you okay?” his voice was softer this time, the restraint obvious in how still he stayed once he’d finally bottomed out. his forehead pressed lightly to yours, lips hovering just close enough to brush your skin.  

“mhm,” you nodded quickly, legs shaking around him. 

“words, baby,” he said, and his fingers tilted your chin so you’d look at him. 

“i’m okay, jaem. just…just move, please,” you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.  

"since you asked so nicely," he said with a grin that was all teeth and trouble. his hands gripped your thighs, pulling them higher against his sides. his hips pulled back, just enough for you to feel every inch of him drag out slowly, before he pushed back in.

the breath punched out of you. you didn’t even have time to recover before he was doing it again, sharper, testing just how much you could handle. 

"god, you’re taking me so well, princess," he groaned, eyes flicking down to where your bodies connected. his hands slid up your sides, the warmth of his touch a sharp contrast to the way he was slamming into you. "like you were made for me." 

“jaem-” his name was the only thing you could manage, high-pitched and broken. your head tipped back against the pillows, eyes squeezing shut, but that only made everything feel sharper. 

“what's that?” he asked, voice rough as he leaned in closer, his lips ghosting over the corner of your mouth. "love it this much, huh?" 

you didn’t answer, didn’t need to. he could hear it in every shaky breath, feel it in the way your body reacted to him. 

his mouth was on yours a second later, messy and hot, his teeth dragging over your bottom lip before his tongue slid past it. he didn’t kiss you so much as claim you, taking everything you gave and then some. your fingers knotted in his hair, desperate for something to hold on to. the sounds between you were wet, frantic, each one making the coil in your stomach twist tighter. 

you were close… so, so close.

 but then he pulled away again, leaving you gasping at the sudden loss. before you could even think to complain, he grabbed your hips, flipping you over like it was nothing. your cheek pressed into the pillow, hips lifted, and you barely had a second to brace yourself before he was back inside you.

the first thrust knocked the air out of your lungs. it was deeper now, sharper, because he’d found a whole new spot to ruin you from. your fingers dug into the pillow, muffling the sounds spilling from your mouth, but even that wasn’t enough. the angle had you seeing stars, the kind of pressure that made your legs shake with every thrust. 

“feel that?” his voice was right at your ear, low and rough. “feels different, doesn’t it?” 

you nodded frantically, too gone to answer, but that wasn’t good enough for him. his hand slipped up, tangling in your hair, gently tugging you up just enough so he could hear you.  

“talk to me, baby.” his voice was a rasp now, barely hanging on. "tell me how it feels." 

“s’good…so good, jaem,” you gasped, words rushed and jumbled but still clear enough. "i’m- i’m gonna…”  

“go ahead, baby," he said, lips brushing against your ear before he bit down softly on your earlobe, making you jolt. "want you to cum for me." 

your whole body shuddered as the release crashed into you, slow and unrelenting, like a wave that just wouldn’t let up. it didn’t hit and fade away like usual — it lingered, making your muscles seize and tremble with every pulse. you felt boneless, your limbs heavy as you sagged against the bed, head turned to the side, cheek pressed into the pillow. jaemin stayed inside you, his grip on your hips loosening just slightly but his eyes stayed locked on you, dark and intent. you could feel him watching every little twitch of your body. 

“look at you,” he murmured, his voice rough and low. “so pretty like this.” 

he eased out of you slowly, and the emptiness that followed had you sucking in a sharp breath. your thighs shook as you tried to press them together, but his were still on you, thumb brushing softly along your inner thighs admiring how your cum slid down your dripping core. 

you glanced down, lips parting at the sight. his cock was flushed, standing firm against his stomach, the condom showing nothing but a hint of precum mixed with the mess you’d left behind. a slow heat pooled in your belly again, your body already responding before your mind could catch up.  

“you didn’t—” you started, but the words dissolved in your throat, eyes flickering back up to meet his.  

you didn’t wait for him to say anything. your hand shot out, fingers curling around his wrist, and you tugged him forward. he followed easily, letting you pull him in close, his lips already parting like he was expecting a kiss. but just as he leaned in, you braced a hand on his chest and shoved him down flat on his back. 

“oh?” he breathed out a soft, surprised laugh, his eyes widening as his head hit the pillow. “what’s this, huh?”  

“shh,” you muttered, climbing over him, one leg swinging over his hips until you were straddling him. your palms flattened on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your hands. 

“bossy now, are we?” his grin stretched wider, his hands sliding up your thighs with a slow, deliberate touch. he squeezed just above your knees, fingertips pressing into your skin.  

“quiet,” you said leaning forward, your breath warm against his ear. “thought you’d like a girl who takes charge.” 

his head tipped back with a breathy laugh. “oh, i do,” he said, voice trailing off into a low hum as his eyes dipped to where your hips hovered just above him. “but i like it even more when she can keep up.” 

the corner of your mouth tugged up into a grin. “we’ll see,” you muttered, reaching between your bodies to wrap your hand around him. he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, his whole body going rigid beneath you. even with just the faintest pressure of your hand, you could feel him twitch, his hips bucking up slightly. 

“s-sensitive,” he hissed, jaw tightening as he pressed his head back into the pillow. but he didn’t stop you, didn’t even try. if anything, his fingers dug harder into your thighs, holding you steady like he was afraid you’d pull away. 

“thought you could keep up,” you shot back, glancing up at him. his brows furrowed, his eyes squeezing shut for a second before they flickered back open. the teasing look on his face was gone now, replaced with something hungrier, more focused.  

you lined him up with you, heart thudding hard against your ribs. you’d done this before, but it felt different now… the weight of his eyes on you, the way his hands gripped you just a little tighter as you slowly lowered yourself onto him. the stretch was slow, inch by inch until you felt him fill you completely. 

“f-f—” his curse broke off into a low groan, his chest rising sharply as his hands slid up to your waist. “god, you’re—” he didn’t finish. couldn’t finish. his eyes screwed shut, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip so hard you thought he might draw blood.  

you braced your hands on his chest, fingers curling just slightly as you adjusted to the feeling. the heat in your core burned brighter, the ache of it twisting into something sharper, more desperate. you shifted your hips just a little, testing it, and the friction hit you so perfectly you gasped, nails digging into his chest.  

“you okay?” his voice was strained, barely more than a whisper, but there was a thread of concern woven through it. his eyes cracked open, heavy-lidded but focused on you.  

“mhm,” you nodded, breathless as you lifted your hips slowly, feeling every inch of him slide out before sinking back down just as slow. his head tipped back, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard, a low groan rattling from his chest. 

“yeah, just like that,” he muttered, his grip on you loosening as he let you set the pace. “take your time, pretty girl.” his words slurred just a little, as if he wasn’t fully in control of them anymore. “feels so…” his breath hitched, head tilting back against the pillow. 

his hands never stopped moving, though. they roamed up your waist, across your ribs until they found your boobs, they played there for a minute before sliding down to grip your thighs again. every time you dropped your hips, you watched the way his face twisted — brows pulling together, lips parting, his eyes half-lidded and glassy. his fingers twitched, his grip faltering like he wanted to touch you everywhere at once. 

“harder,” he breathed, his voice so quiet you almost missed it. his eyes flicked up to yours, gaze locked, lips parted and shiny with spit. “don’t hold back.”  

you bit your lip, grinning through the burn in your legs as you shifted your pace and started going faster. the sound of it echoed in the room and you felt the warmth building low in your belly again, tighter and tighter with every roll of your hips. 

“y-yeah, just like that,” he gasped, voice cracking, his eyes fluttering shut again. he pressed his head back, the veins on his neck on full display, and you watched the way his adam’s apple bobbed with every uneven breath. his hands slid to your hips, guiding you in sync with his shallow thrusts upward. the movement was messy, desperate, his body seeking more even as he tried to hold on.  

“gonna—” he bit out, breath hitching sharply. his eyes flew open, wild and unfocused as he stared at you like he wasn’t even sure what he was about to say. “gonna— oh, fuck—” 

“yeah?” you gasped, leaning forward, your hands braced against his chest, fingers curling into his skin. “feels good, hm?” 

he didn’t answer with words. he answered with his body, hips snapping up to meet yours, his fingers dragging down your back, hard enough to leave little streaks of heat in their wake. his breathing grew choppy, his body locking up beneath you as his grip on your waist turned bruising. 

“don’t stop,” he panted, his voice rough, broken. “don’t— oh, fuck.” 

you didn’t. not until you felt every last bit of him give in. his whole body went taut, muscles straining beneath you, his grip locking you in place as he let himself go. he groaned so deeply it sounded more like a growl, his breath hot against your neck as he pulled you down to him, holding you close.

“what’s the verdict, doctor?” you asked, tracing circles on his chest, still sat on top of him.  

“hm,” he hummed with his eyes still closed, lips tugging up at the corners as if he was fighting off a grin. “patient shows signs of extreme confidence. possible cause: being too good at driving me crazy.”  

you snorted, tilting your head to look at him. “is that your professional diagnosis?”  

“oh, absolutely,” he said, cracking one eye open to meet yours. “might need to run some more tests, though. you know, for accuracy.”  

“yeah?” you leaned in, your lips ghosting over his jaw. “what kind of tests, doctor?”  

his hands slid up your back, fingers splayed wide as they pressed you closer. “thorough ones,” he muttered, his voice rasping against your ear. “real hands-on approach.”  

“sounds serious,” you teased, letting your nails drag lightly down his chest. “hope your credentials check out.”  

“i’m overqualified, baby,” he breathed, tipping his head back against the pillow with a lazy grin. “let me show you.”

my inbox is always open for any comments about the fic!! thank you<3

[mrsriddlenott]

~Teach Me, Please~

Bsf!JJ Maybank x Innocent!Reader

Warnings: oral(m&f receiving), bit of a handjob, praise kink, spit kink, innocent reader but she’s lowkey in control, reader kinda gets bullied in the beginning but not directly. Not proofread.

{masterlist}

————

“She’s like their little sister,” you heard the kook girl you didn’t recognize laugh as she spoke about you, “She follows them around like a groupie, JJ most of all. It’s like she doesn’t know what to do with what she has, I would be flirting non-stop if I was with him as much as she is. JJ is absolutely delicious.”

“I think they’ll always be just friends,” her equally annoying friend giggles, the pair clearly not noticing you behind them or simply not caring, “I mean look at how innocent she is, I doubt she would know how to please him if she had the chance. She has literally never had a boyfriend, she probably has never given head in her life and JJ gets around a lot he has plenty of better options. Hell he probably doesn’t pay enough attention to even notice her raging crush on him anyway. You should definitely go for it tonight, I’ve heard he’s good.”

You huffed, stomping off back towards the couch you had left JJ on. What annoyed you the most wasn’t the shit talking, you knew people talked, especially kooks who somehow had nothing better to do. What hurt was the accuracy. Despite being the same age as your fellow pogues, and knowing JJ and JB since the third grade, you were still very much innocent. Especially when compared to your ragtag group of friends.

You knew they didn’t mind, they all loved you no matter what. Kie helped you as much as she could but it was pointless, you just didn’t know how to be as laid back as them. You had fun and loved to party as much as they did, but you still preferred a nice night in with a movie. And while part of you used to worry you held them back, they made sure you knew you could always come to them. So when you saw JJ wave you back over with a questioning look in his eyes you knew you could ask him to help you with anything.

And your crush on him had totally and absolutely nothing to do with that decision.

“Will you teach me how to give a blowjob?” You blurt out, dropping onto the couch infront of JJ’s outstretched arm as though everything was normal. He gagged on the gulp of beer he’d just taken before looking to you with wide eyes, trying to decipher if he heard you properly.

“What’d you jus’ say?” His voice was breathless as he wiped his face of spilt beer, your eyes tracing the droplets that escaped down his neck.

“I want you to teach me how to give good head.” You stated, stretching the words to make your intentions clear. You watched JJ’s eyes bounce between your eyes and lips, the gears in his brain working overtime to decide if you were joking or not.

“Like- uh.” JJ starts, his voice strained while he needlessly wipes his mouth again, spreading his legs on the coach and making room for himself and letting his knee touch yours, “Like on what though.” He arches his eyebrow to look at you, not wanting to be presumptuous but wanting nothing more than to help you directly.

JJ would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about you like that a million times. He wanted you, he just never admitted it out loud because he thought you deserved better. He messed around and acted out while you and John B cleaned up after him but over the years he started to notice a distinct difference in his feelings for Jonh B compared to those he had for you. However, he decided long ago he wouldn’t act on any of them unless you did first, he couldn’t risk ruining you because you were just so good.

“On you Jay, come on don’t make me feel weird about it.” The whining tone of your voice makes JJ bite his lip, unsure if this was ethical. JB would surely frown upon this and Kie would probably kill him for corrupting you. But he was having a hard time fighting the urge now as you looked up to him with pleading eyes.

“Well I don’t wanna take advantage of you or anything, y’know?” He stutters over his words slightly as he fumbles to find anything to say, making you giggle in that way he loves so much. You had never once seen JJ flustered or worried about a girl asking to suck him off and you honestly couldn’t believe it was you who got that honor.

“But I asked you to show me JJ, I want you to teach me.” You beg him, turning your body on the couch to face him fully, placing a hand on his exposed bicep.

And his resolve snapped.

He tossed his half full beer can aside as he stood, not caring where it landed. His hand took your own hand, gently but assertively pulling you up with him. He held onto you tightly, not wanting to lose you while weaving through the crowd in the Chateau making the way to the bedroom he made his. You caught sight of the first kook girl in passing, noticing the way she tried to catch JJ’s eyes only to be ignored. Her face contorted in surprise and disgust while you laughed softly before JJ was yanking you into his room and locking the door behind you both.

“C’mere,” JJ instructed, waving two fingers towards him. When you turn to him he’s facing away from you, grabbing a pillow from the top of his bed and tossing it on the floor at his feet. The bed creeks from his weight flopping onto it, manspreading while watching your slightly shocked and confused face, unable to hide his smile. “Come on, y’wanna learn or not.”

Your legs carry you to him, anxiously messing with the hem of your dress now that you can make out the bulge in his shorts. “Are you sure you want to do this?” His voice draws your gaze back to his and you can see the excitement whirling behind his blue eyes dropping you to your knees carefully, leaning into the comfort of his pillow.

“Thanks for the pillow,” You whisper, locking eyes with him from between his legs, “I didn’t know guys did that, I’ve never seen it in the porn I watch.”

“You watch porn?! Oh my god this keeps gettin’ better.” JJ groans with a smile, knocking his head back and letting you watch his adam’s apple bob, “I’ve never done it before, I just didn’t want you to bruise your knees.”

“Good to know I’m special.” You laugh awkwardly, wiggling with excited and nervous energy where you leant before him. He released an airy laugh above you, looking down at you again, his pupils dilated.

“You have no idea,” JJ’s voice was breathless and his words caught in his throat slightly, “Do you wanna get started on our lesson Princess?” JJ asked teasingly, running his fingers down your warm cheek, stopping to lift your head up by your chin. You nodded, shell shocked as you stare up at him unable to force your mouth to form words.

“I need you to tell me,” He whispered, leaning forward slowly until his lips ghost against yours, “If I’m going to finally corrupt you I need you to ask Cupcake.” Your eyes fluttered shut, taking in his scent as your heart rapped against your ribcage.

“I want you Jay….T-to teach me, please.” Your eyes flick open just in time to catch a wicked grin spread across his face before your cheeks were cupped in his warm palms, tugging your lips into his in a heated kiss. Your sighs mingle together, finally exploring what you both silently desired for so long. His tongue danced across your bottom lip asking for entrance as you gasped letting his tongue fight yours, forcing a moan from you that vibrated against his lips. He pulled away slowly, spit connecting you for a second before you’re licking your lips subconsciously. JJ observes your furrowed eyebrows and the redness flooding over your skin as your eyes stay closed in obvious pleasure.

“Still with me Gorgeous?” JJ asks, tapping your cheeks lightly, smiling excitedly as he watches you look up at him. His painfully hard erection rubbed against the zipper of his shorts as he adjusts his hips. Leaning back and resting his weight on his forearms, his crotch looming in front of you, your wide eyes telling him you have no clue how to start this. “Put your hands on my knees,” He instructs, shivering under your touch when you listen immediately, your cool hands resting against his steadily warming skin, “Good girl, now I want you to slowly move them up, like you’re not sure you want to take my pants off yet, tease me y’know?”

Your breath hitches at his praise, and he notices. You whimper as you try and follow his instructions drifting your hands across his broad thighs and letting your fingers tease under the fabric of his shorts, “You like being my good girl don’t you?” He asks, his voice teasing only slightly, his breathy voice making your thighs clench, rubbing them together desperate for friction.

“Yes, I do,” His eyes immediately catch onto the movement of your thighs, biting his lip while he watches you wiggle in front of him. He twitches in his shorts at the thought of you getting off to his pleasure, moaning loudly when he takes your hand in his pressing your palm directly into his bulge. Using his larger hand to move yours to perfectly cup around him and uses your palm moving it against his shaft as he swallows, desperately trying to collect himself.

“K-keep doing that until you’re ready,” He sighs, letting you continue at your own pace, moving his hand up to your hair to fix it, not wanting it to fall into your face as he watched your features for signs of distress, “When you want to unbuckle my belt and-“ He gasps cutting off his sentence when your fingers immediately jump to hastily undo his belt. Your shaking hands struggle for a few awkward seconds before you’re tugging his shorts down his thighs exposing his black boxers. JJ lifts his hips to let you discard his shorts fully, tossing them aside as you stare into his eyes triumphantly, “Good girl.”

Your wide smile as your hands tease their way back up his naked thighs just as he taught you has him reeling, practically shaking with excitement. “You like being praised, don’t you Mama?” He asks, tugging his lip between his teeth when your fingers find his cock again. He tugs your hand upward, moaning when he presses your hand into his tip, stopping your movements entirely until you respond.

“Yes Jay.” You whine, your tone impatient as you wiggle your hand under his, making him release a breathy moan laced with a laugh as he releases your hand, letting it continue it’s excited exploration of him. Your free hand started to sneak it’s way up his body, making him jolt forward as your cold hand found it’s way into his shirt.

“Who do you wanna learn this for?” JJ blurts out, not entirely wanting to hear the answer as he tugs his shirt over his head impatiently. Closing his eyes as your nails dig their way back down his chest, part of him wondering how you knew he’d like that.

“Myself.” JJ feels the smile grow back on his face, relief flooding his body as he opens his eyes, locking onto your wide gaze looking up to him expectantly. You want his instructions, and he wants to draw this out.

“So there’s no one in that precious mind of yours right now?” He asks, letting his eyes fall down your face, gazing at your wet lips before eyeing your cleavage and wiggling hips. Trying to suppress that part of him that wants you to stay here like this forever.

“Well,” You giggle, palming him through his boxers just over his tip, loving the way his head falls back with a moan when you apply more pressure, “Right now I have you on my mind Jay.”

“Fuck, you have no idea what that does to me,” He smiles towards the ceiling, imagining all the times he came in his hand to this exact scenario, “I thought you were too good for me, why’d ya ask me?”

“Some girls at the party were talking about me, calling me your groupie and saying I wouldn’t know what to do with you if you ever gave me the chance, and I really wanted a chance.” You sigh, drifting your hand down his toned abs to tease the elastic of his underwear, letting it snap against his skin as your excited eyes find his again.

“Oh Princess,” he cooed caressing your cheek, “You have always had the chance. You were the first girl I ever imagined doing this for me.” His eyes went wide when he realized what he had said, almost backtracking before you interrupted him to speak.

“Good, because I can’t imagine anyone else teaching me, I trust you, I want it to be you.” You state simply, locking your eyes in his gaze and taking not of the hitch in his breath. In a spurt of confidence you’re tugging his boxers down his thighs, eyeing his thick, throbbing cock as it bounces free, eyes meeting his again in a beg, “Tell me what to do Jay.”

“First give the tip a kiss Baby,” You do as your told, touching your lips against his hot, red tip as it leaks precum onto your lips, “Mmm, fuck now get your tongue nice and wet and lick up the middle, when it feels right slide my tip against your tongue n’suck on it like those Cherry suckers you’re always begin’ me for.”

You laugh, suddenly feeling more and more confident as you watch him come undone above you. “Is that what you want Jay? Or are you goin’ easy on me?”

“If you think you can take me in one go do it Princess, but don’t think I’m pressuring you,” He sighed, watching your tongue wet the side of his pulsing cock, “I want you to go at the pace you’re comfortable with.”

You smile up at him as you separate from him, letting spit coat your tongue before moving to lick up the prominent vein popping out of the other side of his cock. He groans above you, subconsciously moving his hips closer to your mouth in uncontrollable excitement. As your lips caress against his red, leaking tip you slowly let spit drip from your lips onto him, watching as it drips down him and pools in the bit of trimmed hair at his base. His eyes pop from his head when you bring your hand up to spread your saliva over him, pumping your hand slowly and twisting it like you’d seen in videos. You watched his furrowed eyebrows, buying yourself time to work up enough spit in your mouth to take him fully. His lips tug into his teeth as his hips stutter upward into your hand.

“Where did you learn to do that?” JJ gasps, stuttering and twitching in your wet hand.

“Porn.” Your sickly sweet voice has him moaning and tugging at your hair, forcing you’re eyes up to his.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” He states before slamming his lips into yours, moving you back by your hair wrapped around his fist. You gape up at him wide mouthed, your hand speeding up when his eyes bounce between your open, drooling mouth and your blown out eyes as though asking for permission. You nod your head to him, not sure what he wanted to do but okay with it nonetheless. His free hand jumped to your chin, tugging your mouth open wider before leaning down and spitting directly onto your tongue. Rolling your eyes into the back of your head as you moan you shiver in front of him at the feeling of his spit mixing with yours, unknowingly helping you in your previous goal.

JJ chuckles at your reaction, moaning slightly when your hand speeds up again. You savior the feeling of his spit in your mouth for a second, your eyes latching onto his as you smile wickedly. JJ only takes a second’s pause before his eyed widen watching your mouth dip lower, his fingers subconsciously tightening in your hair, moving his other to grip the bed and ground himself. Breath fills your lungs from your nose, prepping yourself before teasing his tip with your tongue for only a second before you slowly slide him into your mouth. His hips jolt forward subconsciously, shuddering breathlessly when your eyes meet his over your lashes again. JJ curses under his breath, watching you take almost every inch of him in one go, sliding your head down his shaft, resting your hand at his base when you can’t fit anymore.

JJ moans loudly when you swallow around him, jerking his hips into you desperately trying to control himself, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you cut him off quickly, shoving your head as far down as you can go, feeling his tip twitching in the back of your throat as you gag around him. You pop your head up, dragging your tongue against the underside of his shaft, moaning at his taste and sending vibrations through him. You suckle on his tip, preparing yourself as you gasp for breath around him. You start to bob your head up and down him, swirling your tongue as you go dropping low enough to feel his pubes tickle your cheeks, his hands moving to the back of your head to tug your hair into his fingers.

“You’re a natural,” JJ sighs, “Feel like imma cum already Gorgeous, fuck.” Gazing up at him you watch his eyes try and stay open, try to maintain eye contact until they flutter shut when the tip of your tongue grazes his ballsack unintentionally. JJ subconsciously pushes your head down, pulling a moan from you as he groans into his bitten lip, hooded eyes watching you intently now as he tugs you off of him with a pop. His hand stays in your hair, his eyes watching the way your spit dribbles down your chin, mixing with your lipstick and contrasting the black mascara running down you cheeks.

“I want you to try something, but only if you’re comfortable okay?” You nod to him desperately, ignoring the fact that your hair’s probably a mess in his hand, “Flatten out your tongue f’me,” His voice was demanding but soft still, a side of him you had never seen before beginning to come forward, “Yea, good girl just like that,” He says as he watches you stick your tongue out for him, spit dripping down the middle and directly onto is erect cock, “Now lean down and suck on my balls Sweetheart.” Your eyes went wide watching how he bobbed infront of your face. “If you don’t want to that-“

A shiver runs down his spine and directly into his rock hard cock when your warm tongue drags against his heavy sack before you suck one into your mouth, his hand tugs into your hair harder instinctively as he shudders. His shaft twitches against your face, your tongue swirlly against his salty flesh, tugging off him with a pop. You look up to him, makeup dyed spit dripping off your chin and down your chest, “Like that?”

“Yes yes just like that,” He gasps, desperation laced in his tone, immediately making you drop your head back. Sucking his other tight ball into your mouth, swirling your tongue while he shakes you slowly move your hand that was supporting your weight on his knee under your dress, circling your clothed clit with two fingers. Moaning around him as your eyes flutter shut feeling the wet patch seeping through your underwear.

“Open your eyes and look at me,” JJ growls when he catches your hands movement, his hand caress your face gently contrasting his hard tone. Despite wanting to listen your eyes stay shut as you speed up your fingers movement, “Thought you said you liked being a good girl, now listen to me.”

Letting your eyes flicker open you feel your cheeks heating up even more when you catch his gaze. His blue eyes only egg you on further, your fingers speeding up subconsciously while he stares at you with a smile. Breathing through your nose you continue your mouths exploration of him, popping your mouth off of his flesh only to immediately suck his tip into your mouth again. JJ’s hand tugs your hair into a ponytail as you bob your mouth on him, his tip hitting your throat each time making you gag and moan on him. The vibrations of your noises make his hips jolt uncontrollably, his body and dick twitching together as your spit pools on his groin and slips down his thighs.

He releases a loud needy groan when you force your mouth off him, his hand falling from your hair and clutching the blanket below him, mumbling incoherently while trying to ask why you stopped. He whines loudly gasping and gripping the bed so hard his knuckles turn white when you drag your wet tongue from the middle of his ballsack directly to his tip. Moaning when he twitched against your face, sucking him into your mouth while you eye his adam’s apple bobbing. Sensing he was close you stop your fingers with a whine around him, moving in order to move your hands to support yourself on his knees as you suck your cheeks in. You drag your mouth down his shaft and JJ whimpers, shoving his hand into your hair and tugging as he cums down your throat, filling your mouth as you moan.

“Fuck I’m so sorry, I didn’t have time to warn you, do you need’ta spit?” He asks, trying to ignore the tingle running down his spine at the sight of his cum dribbling past your lips.

“It’s okay,” You state simply licking your lips clean, the sweet tone in your voice not changing despite the more than inappropriate circumstances, “Your cum tastes so good Jay, look I swallowed it already.” You stick your tongue out to him, showing what little residue remains as he groans above you again.

“If you need anymore lessons, you can always, and i mean always, come to Papa Jay.” His breathless voice makes you laugh as you hop up to sit next to him on the bed.

“Do you wanna take my virginity too.” The burst of confidence making him cum gave you almost wears off at the look of shock that grows onto JJ’s face.

“Damn Mama, you are so fucking bold tonight, you have no clue how many times I have imagined you asking me that.” He smiles at you, his large ring clad hand gripping your thigh as it sits beside him, “Wanna tell me how long you have been fantasizing about your best friend poppin’ your cherry?”

“Forever.”

“Mmmhmm, that’s what I wanted to hear.” JJ groans, pulling your thighs apart and shoving you backwards letting your dress ride up. He rolls over you, settling over you where you lay on his bed, framing your face with his arms. “I think it’s your turn right now though don’t you?” Shivers run down your spine at his tone, subconsciously trying to rub your thighs together earning a teasing laugh from JJ. You brace yourself on his waste, tugging him closer to you as his lips crash into yours, tongues immediately starting to fight for dominance only for him to win with a groan.

“We should save your first time until there’s not a dozen people right outside the door.” Lowering his voice to a whisper as he lightly digs his hips into you, “And I think we need to have a conversation before we….move forward.” Letting his lips graze your neck as he keeps going he smiles at your gasps of appreciation, “But don’t think I don’t really, really want to right now.”

JJ’s teeth tug at the spaghetti strap string of your dress as he crawls lower down your body, letting it snap back against your skin with a sigh, “You’re so fucking gorgeous, so perfect I can’t even look at you sometimes.” The warm feeling of his tongue against your collar bone has you bucking against him desperately, hissing when his teeth nip at the exposed flesh of your breast.

“I love when you wear this dress,” JJ moans against your skin, his head falling low enough to push his face into your chest for a few seconds, wiggling it around dramatically, making you laugh before be continues his decent, “I don’t wanna take it off.” He groans, biting at your flesh through the fabric.

“Then don’t.” You say breathlessly, smiling down to him as you tangle your fingers into his hair. He smiles back to you, quickly pushing himself down the bed the rest of the way so he was face to face with your exposed thighs. With a quick flick of his wrists he flips the hem of your dress up, exposing your damp matching underwear.

“You matched your underwear to your outfit? That’s so cute.” JJ groans, dipping his head to bite at the flesh of your thigh as his hands slowly work their way up your thighs. He pulls back, watching intently as he slips his fingers past the lace hem of your underwear, tugging them down as you lift your hips to help. You watch him as he tosses your underwear behind him, his eyes meeting yours for a second seeking consent as he shoves your thighs further apart, putting you completely on display for him. JJ licks his lips as he eyes you, moving his hands slowly under and around your thighs resting them on his shoulders before shoving your hips down with his large palms. He groans loudly as he bites into the flesh of your thigh beside him, slowly licking his way to your center and leaving a wet trail behind.

His hands hold your hips down hard as they jolt upward with your moan and laughs into you happily. Eyeing the way your head falls back, your chest rising and fallen he quickly speeds up his tongues pursuit of your clit. Watching you as one hand hangs above your head and the other plays with his hair, JJ can’t think of anything that looks better.

“Oh my god,” You yell, the feeling of his tongue flattening against you, slowly licking back and forth over your clit before quickly sucking it into his mouth. You scream a moan at the sensation, tugging at JJ’s hair aggressively not caring if anyone outside the door can hear your pleasure. “Do that again Jay.” JJ’s lips pop off of you into a smile, his lips glistening with your release before he drops his head back into you. Flicking his tongue aggressively against you as he licks up your slit, groaning at the feeling of your nails against his scalp when he sucks your clit into his mouth again. JJ can feel himself growing hard against the blanket at your taste, your shaking legs egging him on as your release quickly approaches.

The feeling of JJ’s tongue prodding at your entrance as you clench on nothing has the tightening feeling in your abdomen worsening, making you whine and wiggle your hips subconsciously. The grip of JJ’s hands on your hip tightens, his nails digging into your flesh as he grinds himself into the mattress at your excitement. He plunges his tongue into you, collecting your juices on his tongue with a desperate groan, his eyes flickering shut as he moves to flick his tongue against your puffy clit again. JJ pulls back quickly making you whine and tug at his hair, trying to shove him back into you and forcing a wicked laugh from him as he spits directly onto you and dives back in. You shudder when he starts to lap against you wildly, your hips jolting and your back arching, your hands tugs on his hair harder as you cum, the almost painful band in your abdomen breaking in a euphoric release. Moaning so loudly you know for sure anyone close enough to the door could hear but you didn’t care as you came undone on your best friend’s tongue, breath shaking as your body twitches.

JJ’s tongue slows, pushing himself up to get a better look at your post orgasm face, your eyes unfocused and your mouth open in gasping breaths. He slowly crawls up your body, smiling in your face and you smile back at him the best your can, he groans at the sight of your sweaty cheeks, your hair sticking to your forehead as he smash his lips into you. The taste of yourself lingers on his tongue as you both moan into each other.

——————

I might wanna do a part 2 of this for their first time, would anyone be interested in that?

Another Lesson? (Coming Soon)

[artdcnaldson]

NEED art and patrick to find out I'm a virgin and offer to teach me how to kiss and how to fuck and use eachother as examples and guide me and tell me I'm doing a good job and reward me for being such a good student and come back later and quiz me to see if I remember everything they taught me ugh obsessed with them individually and as a unit

This has lived rent free in my mind for literally forever. I can’t stop thinking about it, it haunts my every waking moment.

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: Making out, Handjob lessons, guys being pervs, not a love triangle they just all want to fuck each other

A/N: unedited bc I wrote this while on the clock okay whatever. Enjoyyyy and if u want me to continue this lmk >:)

“I think it’s sweet,” Patrick said, and you could hear the amusement in his voice, practically dripping from every syllable. “The last American virgin. You belong in a museum.”

You rolled your eyes and tossed your empty Taco Bell cup at him— the ice rattled and it leaked a puddle of condensation onto the ground. “You could try not to be a dick about it.”

Art’s dorm room was hot and sticky thanks to a faulty AC, which meant the three of you lounging on the floor by his open window, sucking down soda watered down by melted ice cubes. You were down to a T-shirt and shorts, they were down to their boxers. It wasn’t lost on you that it was an intimate situation to be in— barely dressed, crammed into the shoebox of a dorm. And of course Patrick had dug his fingers in until you admitted your secret— you had made it all the way to college totally unfucked.

Patrick leaned forward, smiling the smarmy smile that tended to wear at your last nerve. “So you’re a virgin, but like,” he leaned in, so close you could feel body heat radiating from him. He dropped his voice, just above a whisper. “How much of a virgin, really? You’ve at least gone to third, right?” You glared, but shook your head.

“Second?” Art supplied, suddenly jumping in with an eager sort of curiosity.

“What? No, I don’t even know what that means,” you admitted. You sighed before you spoke up. “I’ve only ever kissed one guy and one girl, and it was during a game of spin the bottle, like, junior year.”

“How?” Patrick asked.

Your brows furrowed. “How? I spun the bottle, it landed on the person, I leaned in, put my lips against theirs, and that was it.”

Patrick sighed. “Just fucking show me how.” He looked at you expectantly, inching even closer.

With an annoyed sigh, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his— mouth closed, lips firm. When you sat back, Patrick and Art were both grinning.

“What?” You asked with a frown.

“That’s how you kiss on the playground in elementary school,” Art said, unable to contain his laughter. “C’mere.”

You crawled forward, stopping in front of the blond. His hand settled on your jaw, coaxing you forward.

His lips met yours softly, sweetly. It was easy to lose yourself in the feeling of Art’s mouth, in the gentle brushes of his lips against yours and the way he held your face so tenderly.

The feeling of his tongue pressing against the seam of your lips was strange, but you welcomed it, letting him lick into your mouth.

Each pass of his tongue against yours drew you deeper and deeper into it, into him. You moved into his lap without realizing it, kissing him with sweet, timid laps of your tongue.

Art pulled back first, his cheeks soft and pink and so pretty. “See? That’s how you’re supposed to kiss someone. That was really good.”

You laughed softly, and moved off of his lap sheepishly. Patrick leaned forward, brushing your hair back, holding your face in his hand.

“Okay, show me what Art showed you,” he instructed, then leaned in.

Kissing Patrick was different than kissing Art. He was hungrier, more insistent. His tongue pressed into your mouth like he wanted to chart every inch. You did your best to match what he offered, to kiss the way Art had just shown you, sweetly, like you really meant it.

And you did mean it. Patrick’s hands moved along your side, up until they cupped your tits through your shirt. You moaned softly into his mouth— the sound was muffled, met with a moan of his own. He gave an experimental squeeze of your tits and you whined softly. So he did it again, amused by the pretty, sweet noises you mewled out.

Patrick was getting hard, pressing against your thigh. It was a new sensation that you were hyper aware of as you unconsciously ground yourself against him.

You pulled back first, cheeks burning hot after you remembered Art was right beside you. You tucked unkempt hair behind your ear, smiled bashfully. “How was I?”

“Good,” Patrick said.

At the same time Art supplied, “So good.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Okay. Cool.”

Art was squirming, fidgeting, holding a pillow over his lap. Patrick was less covert— opting to openly adjust himself, drawing more attention to the fact that he was hard. You rolled your eyes and stole the nearest cup you could find, sipping at watered down Mountain Dew.

“Do you want me to leave?” You teased, raising an eyebrow. Your teeth dug into the plastic straw as you looked between the two of them.

Art stammered, mortified, but Patrick just smiled dizzyingly over at you. “I can teach you something else. You got to first base, so why don’t you steal second?”

You rolled your eyes, but heat flared behind your cheeks. Jesus Christ, he was such a smug asshole. “I still don’t know what that means,” you said, feeling a little embarrassed.

He grinned and mimed jerking off. Your eyes widened, and you laughed softly. “That would be weird,” you said, half-believing it. “Like, if I did jerk one of you off, that leaves one of you just watching.”

You glanced at Art, who looked just as interested as Patrick did, and your heart stammered nervously. “What if I show you how you do it on Art? Look at him— he’s the perfect little practice dummy.” Patrick reached over, pinching at Art’s cheek until the blond kicked his shin.

“Show me?” You echoed. “Like… you’re going to do it to him, and I do it to you?”

Patrick nodded, leaning into Art’s side, his smarmy smile dissolved into something needier. Art swallowed hard, lips parted slightly as he looked over at Patrick.

Patrick’s lips met his slowly, hungrily. You watched wide eyed as Patrick deepened the kiss, as Art eagerly accepted the other boy’s tongue into his mouth.

Patrick threw the pillow out of Art’s lap and sent it careening into the desk on the opposite side of the room. Your eyes widened at the sight of Art, hard and tenting his boxers. Patrick palmed him in his large hands making the blonde whimper into his mouth and buck up, seeking friction.

You swallowed hard, biting down on the straw as you watched Patrick tug at the elastic of Art’s boxers. Art lifted his hips to allow Patrick to tug them down his thighs, just enough to expose his cock to both of you.

“See,” Patrick gasped, leaning back from their kiss. Art chased his lips fruitlessly, mouth ajar, waiting for more. “He’s so fucking easy. Come feel.”

You moved closer, looking at Art for permission. When he nodded, you reached out, letting your fingertips graze the soft skin of his shaft. He exhaled a shuddery breath, eyes fluttering shut. Patrick’s hand covered yours, guiding you to squeeze around his length.

He was warm under your touch, silky soft, pulsing in your grip. Your heart hammered just at that— at the feel of him in your hand. “Feels nice, huh? Knowing how much he wants you.” You nodded, then slid your fist up, testing the waters. Art moaned softly, throbbed in your grip, aching for more. Patrick smiled like the cat who got the cream. “Hands off, just watch me.”

Patrick spat into his hand and replaced your hand with his own. The second Patrick curled his fingers around Art and started stroking him slowly, the blond was mewling for more. “Fuck,” he moaned, his forehead knocking against Patrick’s, mouth open, panting. “That’s good, feels good.”

You watched Patrick rub his thumb over Art’s tip, eyes widening as Art really whimpered for it, hips thrusting up into Patrick’s fist, chasing more of the pleasure the brunet offered.

“You get it now?” Patrick asked. You nodded quickly, and he tugged down his own boxers. “Fuck, okay— fucking show me.”

Your heart hammered with nerves, but you nodded. You held your hand out and spit into it, mimicking what Patrick had done before you wrapped your hand around his cock.

He felt bigger in your hands, but you didn’t say that. One, you worried it might piss Art off, and two, he didn’t need the ego boost. And he was slick, beading precum at his tip so each pass of your hands felt slicker and slicker.

And you couldn’t help but want to be an asshole. “You’re wet like a girl,” you said with a smirk, gliding your thumb over his tip.

And he was shameless, nodding with a sly grin. “That means I like you.” He panted, moaning softly. “Besides, I bet your fucking panties aren’t dry right now.”

Well, fuck. You tried to ignore the rush of heat in your belly that those words caused, to focus only on the glide of your hand on Patrick’s cock— up and down, copying his pace on Art, copying the ways he’d squeeze and twist his hand.

Art was moaning, rutting up into the tight sheath of Patrick’s fist, the muscles of his abdomen tensing and relaxing in unsteady jerks beneath his soft skin.

“Fuck— switch, switch,” Patrick said quickly. Art whined when Patrick stopped touching him, but it was ignored. “Want you to feel it when he comes.”

He guided your hand back onto Art’s cock and nodded for you to move. “Fuck, your hand’s so soft,” Art groaned. “Faster, faster, fuck—“ He was practically begging. You swallowed, increased the pace, squeezed him a little tighter.

Art was touching Patrick— jerking him off while you brought him closer and closer to finishing. Patrick leaned in, kissed you deeply, pulled Art in too until the three of you were a mess of tongues and lips and spit and hands.

Art came first— coating your hand in warm, slick cum, throbbing in your grip. He was panting into your and Patrick’s mouths, moaning softly as you continued to slowly work him through it. Patrick came next, once Art redoubled his effort, focused on making Patrick add to the mess covering your hands.

Patrick was loud, pornographic, messy. Art brought a cum covered hand between his lips, cleaning it up. Your eyes widened.

“Art, c’mon, you’re scandalizing her,” Patrick said, like you weren’t even there.

“Shut up,” you said, shoving him. He laughed and pulled his boxers back up. Art followed suit, and the three of you were left gross and sweating in the heat. You wiped your hand off on one of their discarded shirts and gave a sheepish smile.

They sat there, expectantly. Waiting for you to make the next call. There was a level of want in you, need, but the thought of asking for them to take care of it was mortifying. “Do you want to watch a movie or something now?”

[cosmicporos]

What would Arcane characters call their partner? What pet/nicknames would they use?

AHHHH THIS IS SO CUTE! Thank you anon :3

Synopsis: A lot of little cut scenarios where arcane characters call you by cute pet names!

Characters: Sevika, Vander, Silco, Caitlyn, Ekko, Viktor

((awkward Ekko x reader, Teasing Viktor x reader (he calls you an airhead…))

Warning: Angst for Silco, called you “Pet” but ends with comfort!

Not proofread

Sevika

Nicknames for you: Darling, Dear, Sweet thing, Babe, Dove.

Okay maybe I’m over sentimental but imagine her calling you Dove because you bring her so much peace in life. So you’re quite literally her little peace dove.

Sevika leaned against the bar, her mechanical arm resting on the counter as she watched you move around the room. It wasn't anything special-just you tidying up after a long day-but to her, it was everything. "You know," she started, her voice low and gravelly, "you've got this way of makin' the world feel... quieter."

You paused, glancing at her with a small smile. "Yeah? That a good thing?"

She smirked, pushing off the bar to walk toward you. "It's a damn miracle, is what it is. You don't know what it's like Dove… how loud it gets up here." She tapped her temple with a finger, her gaze softening. "But then you show up, and it's like everything just... stops."

Your cheeks warmed at the sincerity in her voice, but you kept your focus on folding a stray cloth. "I didn't think I was doing anything special."

Sevika snorted, stepping closer. "That's the thing. You don't even try, and still... you're it for me. My peace. My little Dove."

Vander

Nicknames for you: Peach, Love, Sweet Pea, Darling, Sunshine, Lass/Lad.

The Last Drop was unusually quiet. The usual clatter of mugs and background chatter of conversation was replaced by the occasional cough or sniffle from the makeshift beds spread around the common room. Powder, Mylo, Claggor, and Vi lay bundled in blankets, their fevered faces flushed as they sipped the herbal tea Vander had brewed.

"Peach," Vander called softly, his deep voice cutting through the stillness as he approached you. You were perched on a low stool, dabbing a cool cloth against Powder's forehead. He knelt beside you, resting his broad hand on your shoulder. "You've been fussin' over them all day. Why don't you take a break, huh? Let me handle things for a while."

"I'm fine," you said, though your hands trembled slightly as you wrung out the cloth."They need us."

He tilted his head, giving you that steady, knowing look of his. "And I need you to take care of yourself, Peach. You're no good to anyone if you run yourself into the ground."

Powder stirred, her small hand reaching out to grab yours. "Don't go," she mumbled, her voice weak.

You smoothed her hair back, glancing at Vander. "See? They need me."

Vander sighed, his lips twitching into a faint smile despite himself. "Stubborn as ever," he muttered. "Alright, Peach. We'll do this together, then."

Silco

Nicknames for you: Darling, Precious, lovely, Pet, Beloved.

After Jinx’s fiasco over at Topside it was obvious Silco was more than simply stressed.

In fact tension in the room was palpable, suffocating as it weighed down on your chest. Silco's piercing gaze bore into you, his lips pressed into a thin line. You'd overstepped-at least, in his mind-and now his sharp tongue was letting you know it.

"Stay out of matters you don't understand, pet," he snapped, the word cutting and cold as it left his mouth.

You flinched, the sting of his words settling deep. Your jaw clenched, and you refused to meet his gaze, instead focusing on the cracked edge of the table.

“I was—I was only thinking about Jinx.” You gulped down the bile that burned in your throat. “Temporary keeping her from missions is keeping her safe.” You spoke finally looking up at him with your wet pathetic eyes.

The silence that followed was deafening. Silco's breath hitched as he realized what he'd said, the regret settling in almost immediately. His tone had been cruel, and the look on your face drove a pang of guilt through his chest.

“I apologize…” he said softly, his voice no longer harsh. "That was... uncalled for." He spoke as he stood up, fixing his cuffs as he walks over towards you.

Silco stepped closer until he was within arm's reach. "I shouldn't have said that. You didn't deserve it," he murmured, his voice low and steady. “You mean too much to me for me to speak to you that way."

When you still didn't respond, he hesitated for a moment before tilting your chin up with his gloved fingers, forcing your eyes to meet his mismatched ones.

"Forgive me," he whispered, his tone sincere. "You are not my pet. You are my beloved. The only one who stands beside me, who understands me."

Caitlyn

Nicknames for you: Petal, Cheeky one, Muffin, Trouble, Dearest.

Flour completely dusted the countertop and your face as you tried to knead the dough. Caitlyn stood across from you, her sleeves rolled up, an amused smile playing on her lips.

"Petal," she said, tilting her head, "you're supposed to knead it, not wrestle it."

You huffed, brushing flour from your cheek. “It's sticking to my hands! I’m not sure how else I’m supposed to tackle this.”

Caitlyn chuckled and walked over, gently taking your hands in hers. "Here, let me show you." She guided your movements, her hands warm and steady.

When the dough finally started to cooperate, you couldn't resist smearing a bit of flour on her cheek. She froze, then slowly raised an eyebrow. “Trouble," she murmured, her voice teasing.

You grinned, backing away. "You love it."

Her soft laugh filled the kitchen as she grabbed a handful of flour. "Oh, I do. But you're not getting away with that."

Ekko

Nicknames for you: Firefly, Sugar, babe, baby, Cutie

You sat on a spinning chair in ekko’s workshop mindlessly spinning while watching him work. He was trying to fix a circuit board, but his focus seemed to drift in your direction. You caught him glancing at you a few times, his brow furrowed as though he was thinking of something important.

After a moment of silence, Ekko cleared his throat, his usual confidence wavering slightly. He set down his tools and looked at you with a small smile, hands shoved into his pockets. "Hey, uh... can I tell you something?" he asked, voice a little too casual.

You raised an eyebrow at his sudden and strange behavior. "Sure. What's up?"

He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. "Well, I've been meaning to call you something... I dunno, it's just, uh, you're always so sweet, you know?" He glanced up at you briefly, cheeks turning faintly pink. “So, I was thinking... Sugar?"

There was a long, awkward pause. You blinked, processing the nickname, unsure how to respond. "Sugar?" you repeated, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Really?"

Ekko's face reddened even more. "Yeah, I mean-because, uh, you're sweet... like sugar? You know?" He shrugged, clearly flustered now. "It's not like, weird, right?"

You couldn't help it you laughed, the sound light and teasing, but not unkind. "I don't know, Ekko. It's a bit... unexpected," you said, still grinning.

His gaze shifted, suddenly looking embarrassed. "Okay, okay, I get it. That was dumb, huh? Just trying to be smooth, but I guess it's not my thing." He shifted uncomfortably.

against his arm, your smile softening. "It's cute," you said, voice warm. "But I think you can do better."

He met your eyes, a sheepish grin finally breaking through his awkwardness. "Yeah? You think so?…Well, I'll keep working on it then."

Viktor

Nicknames for you: Beautiful, Trinket, Dearest, Cheeky, Airhead, Sweetling.

You were fiddling with a complicated piece of tech, the gears and wires all tangled in a way that made your focus drift. Viktor stood beside you, watching with a raised eyebrow as you muttered to yourself.

"Careful, darling," he teased with a sly smile, his voice smooth and mature. "An airhead might break something important."

You shot him a playful glare, a little flustered. “I'm not an airhead! Besides…I'm working on it!" you said, trying to hide the embarrassment in your voice.

Viktor chuckled, reaching over and gently fixing the wires with practiced hands. His tone softened as he met your gaze. "I didn't mean it, Sweetling. You're far from an airhead. You just... get a little lost in your thoughts sometimes." He smiled warmly. “And I think it's kind of endearing."

You felt your heart warm at his change in tone, the teasing replaced by something far more tender. "Geez thanks, Viktor." You pouted and sighed out quietly.

He smiled and chuckled softly, his hand now brushing against yours. "Anything for you, Sweetling."

HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED IT<3 thanks so much for all the support on my last post :>

FEEL FREE TO LEAVE A REQUEST AND COMMENT IF YOU ENJOYED IT! (I love reading comments and any feedback!)

[trashytracktales]

Ma'am, I just found your profile and I'm in love with your writing. I would really like to make a request that you made (After McLaren's victory today I was inspired haha)

Could you please write a short one for Lando where he and his girlfriend enjoy the WCC celebration party so much that they don't even have time for themselves (not that it's a big deal for them), but in the next morning the reader wakes up feeling Lando half hard on her back, while they're spooning, so she decides to wake him up with a handjob. So one thing leads to another and they end up having a slow, intense and delicious morning sex.

(if you don't feel comfortable writing, please just ignore. I will totally understand)

Orange glow | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Thank you so much for your support! Enjoy this one 🤍

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𐙚 summary ──── After McLaren wins the 2024 Constructors' Championship and Lando dominates the Abu Dhabi GP, the night is full of partying. But the real celebration happens in the morning, hidden between the sheets, and far away from the outside world.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, mature/sexual content, fluff & smut, descriptive language, unprotected sex, swearing, established relationship, mentions of alcohol and drinking, post-race tension, spooning, slow morning sex, shower sex, hyping each other up, reader tries to be funny towards the end, quick Lily Zneimer cameo.

𐙚 word count ──── 3.5k

𐙚 date ──── Dec. 9, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── I literally have a list of requests piling up, but I had to jump on this one immediately after last night, oop. I'm a Ferrari girlie through and through, and I'm not going to get into the details of how many times I cried this season, however, I'm so proud of the McLaren boys, and everything they've accomplished. A season to remember for sure. Now let the horrors (winter break) begin 🥲👍🏻

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﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

THE WEEKEND STARTED with a lot of pressure, even though the odds were in their favor. And it continued that way on Sunday, after Oscar's Turn 1 incident. Luckily, Lando's teammate had managed to claw his way back into the points by the end of the race. Lando, on the other hand, had been untouchable ever since the lights went out, his car gliding through each lap with precision and speed as if he was running on hopes and old dreams.

His girlfriend watched it all unfold from the garage, her heart constantly in her throat as every sector time flashed on the screens. When the checkered flag finally dropped, she could finally breathe, knowing how much Lando has been stressing about it, especially after the weekend in Qatar.

By the time the podium ceremony begins, the entire paddock is buzzing; she's absolutely sure that no place on Earth is ever as loud as the paddock when someone wins.

Tonight, it's her boy.

In the sea of radiant faces, Lando manages to spot her without any issues and, for a brief moment, their eyes meet. He raises the bottle in her direction, grinning mischievously, before pop it on the podium step and shaking it up, drenching his team principal and the two Ferraris from head to toe.

She laughs, her chest warm with so much pride and love.

After that, it takes Lando a couple of hours before he finally makes it back to her. Post-race duties pull him in a hundred different directions — sometimes simultaneously — media interviews, debriefs, and lots of photo sessions. But when he sees her waiting outside the McLaren hospitality suite, he breaks away from the crowd without hesitation.

“What's a pretty girl like you doing here, hm? You should've waited inside,” says Lando, his voice low, but full of warmth as he wraps his arms around his girlfriend.

He smells faintly of champagne and sweat that mixed with his perfume and natural scent, a heady blend that reminds her of everything he’s just achieved for both himself and his team. The adrenaline it's still floating in the air, and she can feel the buzz of it in the way he's touching her.

“I did,” she replies, looking up at him. “But it took forever, and I got bored.”

It doesn't take long for camera flashes to capture the moment, and Lando takes off his cap to cover their faces, as he leans in to steal a gentle kiss from her before heading back inside.

THE MUSIC IS pretty much deafening, and the lights are a kaleidoscope of neon orange. The celebrations continue into the night, while Lando is — oh, so shockingly — the life of the party, moving from one group to the next with a constant drink in hand, his laughter ringing melodious above the bass.

She stays close but lets him have the spotlight. This is his night, after all, and she wants him to enjoy every single moment. Still, Lando always finds ways to include her by dragging her onto the dance floor for a song, or pulling her into photos with the team, and brushing kisses against her temple as they weave through the crowd.

It gets tiring at times, so she chooses to disappear for a couple of minutes back at their table; a good opportunity to regain control over her breathing, and maybe down another shot. This time, she finds herself watching Lando moving anything but gracefully on the dance floor. He looks like he's yelling, while aggressively gesturing in Oscar's direction, the two of them laughing over something she can’t hear. The sight makes her chest tighten with affection, though. They both seem so carefree right now, so unburdened, and she realizes how rare that is. The season has been the longest ever, and it was filled with so much pressure and expectations. But tonight, all of that has melted away.

“Having fun?” she hears a soft voice from behind her, then her senses are invaded by a faint floral scent.

She turns in her seat to see Lily, her cheeks flushed from the heat, with her smile as contagious as ever.

“More than I expected,” she finally replies, returning the smile and raising her glass to take another sip. “It’s hard not to when I see them like that,” she adds, pointing at their boyfriends.

Lily laughs, nodding slowly. “On the way here, I overheard that they want to get a tattoo in Zak's honor.”

“Oh, fuck no.”

The two girls exchange a look, their eyes locking in a silent agreement. It's their cue to step in, take control, and save their boyfriends from their drunken selves.

It’s past three in the morning when the party starts to wind down. Lando finds her near the bar, his hair a tousled, curly mess and his shirt unbuttoned. He looks exhausted but genuinely happy and satisfied, his eyes bright with the lingering adrenaline of the night.

“Ready to head back, mon amour?” he asks in a broken French accent, slipping an arm around her waist.

She nods, leaning into him. “Thought they'd never wear you out.”

“Pff. FYI, I've got plenty of energy left,” he says determined, smirking down at his girlfriend and watching as her thin fingers button up his shirt.

She giggles, knowing it's not even close to the truth, “Of course you do.”

The ride back to their hotel is quiet, proving her that she was right to not believe him earlier. Lando rests his head against her shoulder, his hand holding hers, fingers intertwined on top of her lap. She can feel the tiredness creeping in, but her heart is still skipping a beat every time Lando brushes his thumb over her knuckles.

When they finally step into their room, he lets out a long sigh, kicking off his shoes and collapsing onto the bed.

“Fuuucking hell. I can't feel my toes, is that fucking normal?” he mumbles into the pillow.

She chuckles, sitting down beside him to take her heels off. “You just turned a two-syllable word into four, so you tell me. I could barely keep up with you, baby. I'm not surprised you're absolutely wrecked,” she admits, lowering herself over his back to give him a small kiss on the cheek.

He sighs, flipping his body the other way, looking up at her with a tired but content smile. “Totally worth it, though.”

She places another kiss, to his jaw this time, her fingers gently caressing his cheek. “I'm so proud of you, pretty boy. I hope you know that.”

Lando's eyes soften, and he reaches up to take her hand in his, letting it rest over his chest. “Couldn't have done a lot of things without you... You kept me sane this season.”

She shakes her head, but he squeezes her hand, his expression earnest. “I didn’t—”

“Baby, I mean it,” he interrupts her vehemently, “Thank you.”

They don’t talk much after that, the exhaustion of the night catching up to them both. Finally, when they change and slip properly under the blanket, they fall asleep together, the hum of the city below fading into the background.

THE EARLY SUN spills into the room, casting long shadows over the tangle of sheets. She stirs first, her senses awakening to the quiet hum of Lando's soft snoring. Usually, she would push him on the other side so she won't hear him anymore, but she knows how tired he was just a few hours ago.

His arm is slung loosely around her waist, holding her close to him as if she might disappear. She shifts slightly, and that’s when she feels him — it — a familiar pressure nestled against her ass, half-hard and stirring with his own slow wakefulness.

A small smile tugs at her lips as she stays still for a moment.

The rest of Lando's body is relaxed against hers, but even in his sleep, he responds to her presence, which makes her heart race. Carefully, she reaches back, her hand slipping under the waistband of his boxers. The moment her fingers curl around his cock, Lando lets out a soft, muffled groan, instinctively pressing closer. At that, he wakes slowly, the low sound rumbling in his chest as he tightens his grip around her waist.

“Mm... ‘morning, baby,” he greets her with a thick, rough voice, filled with sleep. However, there’s a teasing edge to it as he pushes his hips more intently into her hand.

“Good morning, champ,” she murmurs in a playful tone, her hand continuing its lazy strokes, rubbing the sensitive head of his cock in circles with her thumb.

He hisses, pressing his lips against the nape of her neck, his warm breath sending a shiver down her spine. “You waking me up like this just because I won?” mumbles Lando, his lips curling into a soft smirk against her skin.

She lets out a quiet chuckle, but doesn’t reply, focusing instead on the way he hardens fully in her small fist, the weight of him in her hand so familiar and thrilling.

“Fuck, I lose it when you touch me like that,” says Lando, fully woken up by now. “Feels so good, baby.”

Hearing that, she perfects her strokes, feeling the pre-cum coating the palm of her hand, smiling mischievously when she manages to pull another moan out of his mouth.

“Do you have to be somewhere today?” she finally asks.

Lando sighs in pleasure, his hips eager to move in the same rhythm as her hand, “Not until after lunch. Why?”

He knows where she's hinting with her innocent question, but he enjoys hearing her talk.

She laughs lightly, feeling his cock begin to throb slightly in her grip. “I just wanted to celebrate some more.”

Lando's hand slides down her body, instinctively, warm and purposeful, as he grips her thigh and drapes her leg over his hip.

“Alright then,” he whispers, his voice low and filled with a lazy, husky need.

Before she can speak again, he shifts behind her, freeing his throbbing cock and lining himself up, pressing into her in one slow, languid motion, thankful he has such easy access to her so early in the morning. Her breath catches in her throat, her hand clutching at the sheets as he fills her completely, the heat of him spreading through her like fire.

“Lando,” she breathes in sharply, her voice tinged with need, her ass pushing back against him.

Lando's arm tightens around her waist, pulling her even closer as he starts to move. His pace is slow, deliberate, each thrust a deep, measured push that sends shivers down her spine. The angle is perfect, his hips pressing against her as he drives into her from behind, her leg draped over his to open her up to him completely.

“Oh, god,” she moans, bringing her free hand to the back of Lando's head, lightly tugging at his hair.

“You always feel so good in the morning, baby—fuck,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against her shoulder as he moves. His free hand slides up her body, cupping her breast under the fabric of his shirt she's wearing, and teasing her nipple between his fingers. “So warm and ready for me, I could slip inside even in my sleep, hm?”

As a response, her head falls back against his chest, her hand continuing to thread through his hair as Lando buries his face in her neck. Each thrust is so agonizingly slow, almost testing her patience, but every single one is filled with a quiet intensity that steals the breath from her lungs. His hands are suddenly everywhere — cupping her breasts, brushing over her stomach, gripping her hips as he pulls her back against him with undeniable strength.

“Shit,” he murmurs against her skin, his voice low and reverent, “You make me so fucking hard,” Lando adds breathlessly. “So perfect around my cock every. Single. Time,” he accentuates the words with each thrust.

His sleepy voice sends a fresh wave of heat through her, her body trembling as she grips the sheets tighter, trying to hold on to the feeling of him fucking her like that. Too soon, their movements grow less coordinated as they both near the edge, their breaths coming faster, blending together in the quiet room.

“Lan…” she gasps, her voice breaking as his hand slides lower, his fingers finding her clit.

“Come on my cock, baby. I’ve got you,” he whispers, his voice rough with need as his fingers work in time with his slow, deep thrusts. “Let go for me.”

“Oh, fuck,” she cries out, her thighs wanting to press together in pleasure, but Lando's other hand holds her open for him, the slick sound of him pushing in and out of her pussy, an exquisite melody for his ears.

Soon enough, her body tenses, her moans turning into soft whimpers as she comes, her release washing over her in waves that leave her legs shaking. Lando follows moments later, his thrusts growing erratic before he stills inside her, his body shuddering as he presses himself as deep as he can.

They take a long moment to breathe, their bodies joined together. His hand brushes soothing circles over her stomach, his lips pressing lazy kisses to her shoulder and neck, before pulling the shirt over her head so he can feel her in his arms without any obstacles.

“You’re dangerous as hell when you wake me up like this,” he finally speaks, his voice raw.

She laughs, her body still humming with the aftershocks. “Are you complaining?”

“Not even a little,” he admits, pulling her closer and nuzzling into her neck, inhaling her scent.

They stay just like that for a while, making her wonder if Lando fell back asleep, but then he presses one more kiss to her shoulder, his lips lingering there as he shifts, pulling gently out of her. The instant emptiness draws a soft gasp from her, and they both feel the warmth of their shared release slipping between them, dampening the sheets beneath.

He lets out a quiet chuckle, his hand trailing down her thigh before slipping back between her legs. Slowly, his fingers press into her fucked out pussy, gathering as much cum as he can so he can push it back inside.

“God, you're so dirty, baby,” he murmurs against her ear, his voice a mix of affection and playful reprimand. “You should probably take a shower, I'm just saying.”

Her heart starts racing again at the sweet sensation of his fingers, but she doesn’t let him have the last word. She finally turns around in his arms, wanting to see his pretty face bathed in the orange glow of the morning. Her lips find his in a superficial kiss, as one of her hands wraps around his body, pressing firmly against the small of his back and pulling him closer. As their bodies press together, his cock rests between their stomachs, still half-hard and slick with the remnants of their orgasms.

She breaks the kiss just long enough to smirk up at him, her voice teasing as she murmurs, “Yeah? Look who’s talking.”

Lando groans, his head falling back against the pillow as he laughs softly. “Touché,” he whispers, his hands gripping her waist.

Before she can say anything else, he flips them over, pulling her on top of him with an effortless motion. She straddles his hips, her thighs pressing into his, her pussy pressing down on his length. They both exhale at the wet feeling between their bodies, but none of them dares to make another sudden move.

“I wanted to take you in the middle of the dance floor last night,” admits Lando, his hands sliding up to cup her hips, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin there.

“Why didn't you?” she counters, her voice playful as she leans down to kiss him again.

“You would've let me, wouldn't you? Fuck you where everyone can see how pretty you look with my cock inside you?”

She presses one more kiss to his lips, mostly to shut him up, “I'd let you fuck me anywhere you want, my love.”

Lando's fingers tighten around her waist, making her whimper against his jaw, “So fucking easy for me, baby. You're gonna end me one of these days.”

“Not today, though,” she exhales abruptly, fucking her hips onto Lando's length, with no intention other than teasing him.

“Behave,” he says softly, cupping the back of her head in his palm so he can pull her back into a sinful kiss.

They linger there for a while, the morning hues catching in the strands of his messy hair and the faint sheen of sweat on their skin. It’s warm, so intimate, and entirely theirs — a connection that no one can take away nor break.

Eventually, Lando lets out a mock-serious sigh, his hands sliding up her back, stopping roughly at her thighs to squeeze her. “Alright, gorgeous. Shower time. Before we ruin these sheets completely.”

She laughs, climbing off him and wincing slightly at the sticky mess between her thighs. He catches the movement and smirks, playfully slapping her ass as he sits up.

“Come on,” says Lando, taking her hand and pulling her towards the bathroom.

The shower is already steaming up when they step inside, the hot water cascading over their bodies. Lando's fingers are lazily tracing patterns on her back, hers tangling in his wet hair as they share languid kisses under the spray.

“Do you even know what you mean to me?” he whispers, his voice low and filled with adoration. His hands trail up her back, fingers tracing her curves, memorizing every inch of her, all over again. “What you do for me? God, I don't need anything else.”

Her cheeks warm, though whether from his words or the water, she isn’t sure. She tilts her head up, her smile soft and full of affection for him. “Lando, I’m just here for you. You’re the one out there doing the impossible every single day. My champion.”

He lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he presses his forehead against hers. “You're so sweet, love. But you know I'm not a champion yet, my team is.”

Her hands slide up his chest, fingers resting over his heart as she gazes at him, her voice steady and determined. “You are McLaren, Lan. You and Oscar, hold everything together. It's a great responsibility, and I've seen what it did to you this year. The good, the bad, and everything in between.”

For a moment, Lando goes silent, his eyes softening as he takes her in. The quiet between them is filled with the sound of the water, and everything he wants to say to her but can't. It'd be too soon, and he has a habit of letting his mouth loose when his emotions get the best of him.

She notices that, and she knows he's working on it, that's why she won't let the moment grow too serious, “Though, to be fair, Oscar has done you and McLaren a lot of favors this season, no?”

Lando’s startled laugh echoes off the tiled walls, and he pulls back to look at her, his grin wide and mischievous. “Oh, yeah? Is that what we’re doing now?”

Before she can respond, he presses her back against the cool tiles, his hands gripping her thighs as he lifts her slightly, her back arching under the contrast of the chilled surface and the hot water.

“Lando!” she gasps in surprise.

“You take that back,” he growls playfully, his lips capturing hers in a possessive kiss that knocks all the air out of her lungs.

Her laughter dissolves into a moan as he pushes into her again, slow and deep, filling her completely. Her legs wrap around his waist, anchoring herself against him as he pulls out all the way, only to slam back inside, setting a rhythm that’s somehow both lazy and desperate.

The shower fills with the sound of water splashing and the soft, breathless moans that escape her lips, her head falling back against the tiles as he buries his face in her neck. His hands grip her thighs harder, holding her steady as he thrusts deeper, each motion pulling gasps and cries from both of them.

“You saying Oscar’s better than me?” he teases, his voice strained but filled with humor.

“Maybe,” she jokes, breathing out sharply, her nails raking down his back as she arches into him. “But you’re doing a stellar job convincing me otherwise.”

Lando's laugh is low and breathless, turning into a groan as he quickens his pace.

For a lot of people, winning means lifting a trophy above their heads, but for him, it's the rhythm of their bodies moving together — a louder kind of triumph that manifests into delicious moans and whimpers.

It's the kind of podium he will never get tired of stepping on.

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2024

[rafecameronssl4t]

Attention || Rafe Cameron x Thornton!reader

Summary: literally tit obsessed!rafe fawning over readers boobs

Warnings: mention of birth control, swearing, slightly suggestive?

Word count: 851

MASTERLIST (rafe x thornton!reader au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

“He’s just so infuriating!” you vent, your voice sharp as you pull your hair into a messy bun, the motion jerky with irritation. You couldn’t sit still, pacing back and forth across the deck, your mind racing. Rafe was lounging in one of the chairs, his relaxed posture a stark contrast to your bubbling frustration.

His eyes followed you with quiet intensity, but he wasn’t as focused on your words as you wanted him to be. “He knew I was going to tell Mom and Dad about it,” you continue, voice rising. “But no, he just had to stick his nose in my business and tell them first!” You were fuming, your hands gesturing wildly as you ranted about your brother’s constant meddling.

Rafe barely responded, his gaze more intent on your figure than the content of your words. He watched the way your shoulders tensed, how your movements betrayed just how worked up you were, but he wasn’t truly listening. His mind was elsewhere, his lips twitching up into that familiar lazy smile as his eyes drifted over you.

“Rafe, baby, are you even listening?” you snap, suddenly stopping in your tracks, hands on your hips. You glared at him, expecting some kind of acknowledgment. Rafe blinked, seemingly dragged out of his own head, and lazily looked up at you, the smirk still lingering on his lips. “Yeah, yeah, ‘course I am,” he replied, his voice casual, as though you hadn’t just been spilling your frustrations.

“You want me to, uh, talk to Top? Tell me what you want me to do.” You huffed in annoyance, crossing your arms over your chest in a defensive move. The action, while innocent on your end, drew Rafe’s attention immediately. His eyes widened slightly, and he shifted in his seat, leaning back with his lips pursed. He watched the way you folded your arms, his gaze flickering between your face and your tits.

“I dunno,” you mutter, your anger deflating. “I’m just so mad at him. I don’t even want to speak to him right now.” Your voice softens, frustration fading into weariness as you finally give up on pacing and drop down onto the lounge chair beside Rafe. You set your eyes on the water in front of you, trying to focus on its calm surface, wishing it would somehow mirror in your emotions.

Without a word, Rafe slung an arm over your shoulders, pulling you close. His lips brushed the top of your head, a quiet kiss that melted some of your remaining tension. The silent comfort of his touch was enough to ease the knot of frustration in your chest. For a moment, everything felt still, his warmth grounding you.

But then, Rafe’s voice broke the silence, his tone a little too amused. “By the way,” he murmured, his voice low, “when did your tits get so big?” His hand reaching down to squeeze. Your head snapped toward him, eyes wide with shock. “Rafe Cameron!” you shouted, your playful outrage breaking through the calm as you shoved him away. His laughter rang out in response, the mischievous glint in his eyes only growing as he doubled over in amusement.

You narrow your eyes at him, though a smirk plays at the corner of your lips as his laughter fills the air. “It’s because of birth control, Rafe,” you retort, voice laced with playful sarcasm. His laughter slows, and he looks at you with raised eyebrows, the smirk fading into curiosity. “Birth control?” he echoes, clearly intrigued by where this was going.

You lean in closer, your eyes locking with his, a teasing glint in your gaze. “Yeah, because you can’t seem to pull out in time,” you say, your voice dripping with mock exasperation. Rafe’s smirk instantly returns, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he leans back into the chair, draping an arm behind his head.

“Oh, so it’s my fault now?” he asks, his tone teasing but his grin growing wider. “Yes, Rafe,” you say, rolling your eyes but unable to suppress a laugh as you nudge his leg with your foot. “I swear, every time—” Before you can finish, Rafe cuts you off with a low chuckle, his hand slipping behind your neck, gently pulling you closer. “Guess that’s something we’ll have to work on,” he murmurs against your ear, his breath warm and sending a shiver down your spine.

He tilts your chin up to look at him, his thumb brushing across your jaw, amusement still dancing in his eyes. “Or maybe I just like the idea of keeping you on birth control a little while longer.” You roll your eyes but can’t help the flutter in your chest at the way he was looking at you. “You're impossible,” you mutter, though the softness in your voice betrays any real frustration.

Rafe only grins wider, kissing the top of your head again, this time lingering a little longer, clearly pleased with himself. “You love me for it,” he whispers against your hair, his tone teasing, but the way he holds you feels more tender, a quiet comfort that you didn’t realise you needed.

[honey-tongued-devil]

i Beg you i mean BEG YOU to do more chubby person x jinx or vi or something BECAUSE IM LITERALLY FATTT and i love the hcs

DROP ANOTHER ONE AND MY LIFE IS YOURS 🙇🏽‍♀️

[Arcane preference] with a chubby s/o pt.2- cuddle time

The second request of the week. Honestly, as someone who isn't exactly slim, I write these headcanons for those who ask me but primarily for myself. Requests are open, as usual, I ask for your patience because English is not my first language. I'll leave you the link if you'd like to follow me on Bluesky (I'll be posting Arcane content there soon as well, i want to build a 'public' meanwhile).

| Tip jar |

Jayce:

- Starting with the fact that this man is built like a wardrobe, and his clothes are already pretty roomy, he’s started buying even bigger shirts just to make sure you can borrow them, they’ll be oversized on you, and you’ll be happy.

- So when you’re at home watching a movie or cuddling in bed, he strokes your belly with a smile, pretending to be surprised.

- “Is that my shirt?”

- This himbo, who handles a hammer that weighs as much as a horse, means no arguments when it comes to cuddles: you’re sitting in his lap.

- And when things get a bit heated, he’ll hoist you up with your knees on his shoulders, pressing you against the wall just to flex his strength and remind you that it’s absolutely no problem for him.

- After the dirty deeds, expect him to bring you something to eat (and especially drink) in bed, and don’t expect to be able to say no. 

Viktor:

- When you’re relaxing on the couch, it takes a moment to find a position that’s comfortable for both of you: usually, he sits upright with one leg stretched out, the other (his weaker one) draped over yours, and you either facing him or lying on your side with your head on his shoulder.

- The focus here isn’t on clothes, but blankets. They’re all queen-size, so the two of you can wrap yourselves up as comfortably as possible during cuddles without anyone getting cold.

- And when you stand up with one draped around you like a cape, he can’t help but chuckle and call you “Your Majesty.”

- As for clothes, you’d never think he’s clued in to your needs, but then you see the socks he buys for you both: to avoid any circulation issues, he only buys soft cotton and wool socks without elastic, so even at home, you always have cozy socks that match the season, like festive holiday ones.

- His secret move? Sliding his hands between your thighs when they’re cold, and playing with the little rolls there, pinching them when you’re cuddling.

- In your most intimate moments, he stops to kiss and nip at your thighs, leaving little constellations of marks that he traces over with his fingertips in the days that follow.

Ekko:

- Cuddle time is sacred.

- If he walks into the room and sees you sprawled comfortably on the bed waiting for him, a bomb alert goes off in his head: he shuts the door and runs to gather everything he might need.

- Water, snacks, extra blankets, anything he can think of.

- When he gets back and shuts the door behind him, he has a ridiculous grin on his face, warning you that he’s about to pounce with a playful growl, as if to show you just how much he wants to nibble you.

- Ekko is a huge fan of having your knees on his shoulders while you lie down, rubbing his cheek against your calf, and kissing it while you’re busy squirming.

- His favorite hobby? Getting his head caught between your thighs and becoming “deaf.”

- He’s always the big spoon because he has to protect you, hug you, and nestle his arms and hands into every soft spot.

- After any wild night, expect breakfast in bed and a hot bath waiting for you.

Vander:

- Zaun has a dreadful climate because the smog creates a thick layer of heat, but being underground and surrounded by cold materials, temperatures can drop sharply. So sometimes he shows up with a blanket, hands you a corner, and asks you to hold it for a moment.

- As soon as you take it, he calmly wraps it around you, picks you up, and carries you over to the fireplace, keeping you wrapped like a burrito on his lap while he enjoys his pipe for half an hour.

- Because of the cold, intimacy often happens right there in the living room, in front of the fire. Sometimes, he’ll give you the armchair and kneel in front of you, or you’ll both find yourselves on the rug.

- He’s a good lover, but don’t expect him to do much after expending all that energy at his age. On a good day, he’ll be a gentleman and carry you to bed; then it will your turn to cuddle and soothe him with gentle strokes as he enjoys them with his eyes closed.

- If it’s not a good day, he’ll pull the blanket over both of you and set the guard in front of the fire, resigning himself to the fact that you’ll be sleeping cuddled up either on the chair, the sofa, or even on the rug.

- In exchange, the next day, he’ll make it up to you with a long, hot bath and a massage.

Silco:

- This man has money, and he knows how to use it well.

- When the cold sets in Zaun, your bedroom becomes a place you’d never want to leave. Fur rugs are laid out on either side of the bed, soft, warm robes in matching colors appear in the closet, and if you want to stay in your den waiting for him while he works without freezing, you can even light the in-room fireplace.

- After he finishes his work, he washes up, dons his robe, and heads straight to bed, sometimes he doesn't even waiting, and begins going over his paperwork under the blankets while he absently strokes your shoulder or hair.

- If you complain enough, he’ll carefully gather up the papers, set them aside, and hover over you to kiss your neck and collarbones, sliding your robe aside so his lean, wiry body can press against yours.

- He’s incredibly gentle in everything he does, from how he touches to how he kisses or nibbles. Every movement makes you shiver, but he remains composed. Occasionally, between kisses, the cold tip of his nose brushes your skin, making you giggle; he then returns to your lips, asking for forgiveness before continuing his slow exploration.

- He’s the type for wine and a cozy dinner under the covers, a break for cuddles, and then back to work.

- If you protest that you’re eating too much, he’ll feed you himself—no time for nonsense (but always with a touch of tenderness).

Jinx:

- The most chaotic thing Jinx does is cross out or draw over posters that show people who are too skinny. They can’t make you insecure if you don’t see them, and any excuse for vandalism is a good one.

- With the cold setting in, her hideout transforms into a true nest: a heap of clothes and fabrics covered in blankets and throws to make everything softer and warmer.

- Jinx has cold feet, but it’s not her problem—it’s yours. She’ll press them against your stomach, your back, and if you react, it’ll only get worse.

- She’ll start laughing, and it’ll become personal. The only way to fight back is with tickling, but that would be a declaration of war.

- When you both finally calm down, she’ll wrap herself around you, clinging with her whole body, inhaling your scent deeply, and digging her fingers into your side.

- Don’t expect too much delicacy in intimate moments; if she needs you to move, she’ll grab and pull you into whatever position is most comfortable for her. She holds your legs up, and handles you like you’re her personal doll.

- For her, this is princess treatment; and the effort she’s putting in is what counts.

Vi:

- She buries her face in your chest, first and foremost. Feeling sad? Face in your chest. Happy? Face in your chest. Deep in thought? You guessed it—face in your chest.

- Her go-to stress reliever is squeezing your thighs and hips.

- During cuddles, she rests your head on her shoulder, strokes your back, kisses your forehead, and speaks softly.

- She always plays with your hair, and if it’s long enough, you’ll find small braids everywhere.

- When you’re cuddling in bed, she’ll either hold you close or be the little spoon herself, with one hand in yours and fingers intertwined.

- When things get more intimate, she becomes completely dependent on you, pressing her fingers so deeply into your skin that they leave marks, as if even that isn’t enough and she wants to be inside you, to reach into your very core.

- She never imposes anything; if you don’t feel like washing up, she’ll clean you up with a warm cloth, and if you don’t feel like getting up, she’ll carry you. Whatever you want, she’ll go along with it unconditionally.

- Occasionally, she’ll climb over you, propping herself on her arms, just to steal a flurry of kisses.

Caitlyn:

- Caitlyn can cook, and she will.

- Her way of cuddling starts at the table, with an evening set up like a royal banquet. Anything you like will be there, along with sweet and savory snacks, which, if there are leftovers, she’ll take to the coffee table or the bedroom so you can enjoy them later.

- There’s no rush; if you want to go for a walk or relax after eating, it’s fine by her—she just wants to be with you. She might ask a housekeeper for a bit of help, or she’ll clean up on her own while you get ready.

- If you lie down in bed, she’ll absolutely take the chance to gently knead your stomach like a cat, making you laugh but also helping you fall asleep rather quickly.

- She’s the ultimate big spoon, nestling her face into the crook of your neck and holding you tightly.

- When things get more intimate, she loves to look you in the eyes while she touches you, so she can savor every reaction, every shiver, watching your body melt with every move she makes.

- She becomes mesmerized by the way your body ripples under her touch, like there’s an ocean beneath your skin.

Mel:

- The real issue with Mel is that the rich never have anything better to do, so morning, noon, and night, they’re constantly organizing events. Breakfast at a noble’s home, brunch with the councilors, and of course, everyone must dine together. Tea at five with the Kirammans is absolutely sacred, and dinner is a moment for sharing ideas.

- Intimacy is this strange, almost absurd thing, as though everything is designed to give you no second of solitude.

- But when she does find a moment, she sits down and signals you to come into her lap or rest against her, cuddling you, playing with your earlobes, and winding her fingers through your hair until your eyes cross.

- She prefers giving affection to receiving it, simply because it feels like the only way she truly knows how to show love.

- Only in the deepest intimacy does she allow herself to do less, to enjoy your presence lying with her, to let go of control.

- She adores the way your body moves artistically, like it follows lines painted in oil, and these are the few moments where she can fully admire you.

- She’s quite strict afterward. You must drink those two glasses of water, and as you get up, she’ll call for someone to change the sheets and make the bed, so by the time you’re done showering, everything is ready and perfect.

Sevika:

- Bluntly put? She works with the chem barons, who are mostly old, misogynistic men with monocles embedded in their skulls, grotesquely altered rats with spider-like mechanical limbs, a very interesting gang of women in latex with disturbing port attachments, people with mechanical noses that pump in toxic stuff directly, and other highly modified, not-so-pleasant characters.

- I mean, sure, you have every right to feel insecure, but when she tells you you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to her, she’s being quite literal.

- Her delight in the fact that not only are you entirely flesh and blood but actually soft flesh is beyond words—she feels like she’s hit the jackpot with a premium relationship.

- There’s hardly a moment when she’s not touching you, holding your arms or cheeks in her hands, or kissing your skin.

- During cuddles, she prefers you on top of her, and if she’s calm and has enough time, she’ll even remove her arm.

- It’s a controversial choice, but she doesn’t want to be around you while wearing a weapon, and she doesn’t want you to see her the way she sees the chem barons. It’s almost a moral decision on her part.

- In bed, she can hold you easily with just one arm; she’s strong, it’s not an issue for her. But first and foremost, she wants to lie down with you, feel your soft arms, your chest, your waist where she can let herself sink in, and when you laugh because she’s tickling you, she kisses you.

- For her, the hardest part isn’t functioning with one less limb but letting herself appear calm, not on the defensive, even vulnerable.

- But she doesn’t regret it for a single second.

[classyrbf]

ᯓ★ YOU TURN ME ON! — JJK MEN

SYNOPSIS...what turns the jjk men on? Don’t worry, I’m here to tell you!

INFO...jjk men (geto, gojo, nanami, toji, choso, higuruma, sukuna) x fem!reader, sexual and non sexual turn ons (kinda), whispering, eye contact, tight clothing, shower sex, p in v, hair pulling, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), pheromones (?), mention of glasses (sukuna), facial (sukuna), not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

GOJO

gojo loves when you whisper in his ear. Something about you being so close to him, feeling your breath on his skin just does something to him. He gets immediate chills up his body and a small little smirk on his face. It doesn’t even have to be sexual either, you could whisper the most basic shit and he’d be giggling like a school girl cause he just loves hearing your voice in that tone. Now, when it is sexual…that man will nut inside of you without warning. You’re moaning and whispering in his ear? He’s a goner, quite literally on another planet. Nibble on his ear a little and his eyes will roll back. Sometimes you’ll do it in purpose while you two are out in public and he gives you the biggest pout ever. “Baby, don’t do that to me c’mon,” he whines. He damn near dragged you to the car and fucked you in the backseat…

NANAMI

nanami loves eyes contact a little too much. Sometimes it’s intimidating because he’s such a stoic man and doesn’t show very much emotion in his face, so he will just stare at you. But overtime you’ve grown to be comfortable with making eye contact with him, just staring lovingly while he talks about work or whatever. He stares into your eyes so much that he can tell what you’re thinking and feeling. More specifically, he knows when you’re in the mood, the little glint in your eye while you smile at him, looking at him up and down like he’s a piece of meat. In that case, expect eye contact during sex! Nanami loves missionary just looking at you, forehead pressed against yours, and he can’t get over that pleading look, batting your pretty lashes at him while you moan his name. “Yes, right here, baby. Keep looking at me. There’s my girl,” he softly sighs.

TOJI

toji loves tight clothes (no surprise). He genuinely thinks you look good in anything, but something about seeing the outline of your body makes him a crazed man. He will nonstop be touching you, handing on your ass, waist, titties, thighs…he does not give a damn. You could be wearing your pajamas and he will still find you sexy. You bend over in something tight? He’s now hard and has to fix the problem, not that he minds. He bends you over right there on the couch with your shorts around your ankles. It’s date night? He’s excited because you’re gonna wear that new dress he bought you—the one that hugs your body so well, showing off all your curves. Wandering eyes follow your every movement while you get ready and be chews on his bottom lip while he thinks of everything he wants to do to you. “Yeah, doll, I don’t think we’ll be making it to dinner tonight,” he chuckles.

GETO

geto loves soapy titties. Now I know that’s like very specific…but I just see him getting turned on by soapy tits for some reason (I don’t make the rules). He doesn’t care what size they are, what they look like, just throw some soap and water on them bad boys and he’s a satisfied man. Bonus points if you send him an unexpected photo in the shower while he’s away. He almost drops his phone while waiting in line for food because he can’t believe his eyes—your perky nipples and soap cascading down your entire body. Expect shower sex…a lot of shower sex. He will go out of his way to help you wash up, trying to be all nice and polite but minutes later his hands are groping your chest and playing with your nipples, soap running between his fingers while he fucks you against the shower wall. “They look so pretty in my hands, baby. I love ‘em.” He lazily smiles.

CHOSO

choso loves when his hair gets pulled or when you play with his hair. He only discovered this when you were doing his hair and accidentally pulled it and to his surprise (and yours) he let out a small whimper. Now you go out of your way to tease him, tugging at his hair whenever you walk by, giggling when he huffs in annoyance. He likes laying on your chest and you just run your fingers through his hair, he immediately melts into your touch. Oh but Choso definitely likes it when you tug at his hair when he’s eating you out…why wouldn’t he? It makes him so hard when he feels your fingers entangle in his hair, pulling and tugging at it while you basically ride his face for your pleasure. You only tug harder when you get closer and closer to your orgasm and his dick is throbbing. “Yes, yes, pull on my hair, please, please,” he begs.

HIGURUMA

higuruma gets turned on when you smell good, whether it’s your natural smell or your perfume, conditioner, lotion, whatever you use. You’d walk by him one day in the kitchen, greeting him when came home from work and he stops in his tracks and sniffs the air a couple of times because you smell so good…??? Like really good to the point he just wants to devour you, hold you, do whatever to you. He’ll hold you close and just smell your hair, your skin, kissing you over and over while his hands roam your body. And if you wear a scent that evokes memories of you two, like a first date or something like that…he pounces on you like a tiger. “How do you smell so fucking good? God, I could just eat you up right now…would you let me?”

SUKUNA

sukuna loves glasses. Yes I said it. Modern sukuna more specifically cause yk…But he will see a woman with glasses and think about how cute her face looks, how smart she looks…the innocent thoughts at first, and then his evil, horny ass would think about what they would look like when he’s fucking you. He can never be wholesome. Will they fog up? Will you let him cum on them? Do you even keep them on? Will they break if he fucks you too hard? All questions that need to be answered. So yes, he eventually fucks a woman with glasses and god does he love it. He finds it adorable when you push up your glasses every ten seconds cause he’s pounding into you too hard. He loves it when you look over them while giving him head. And yes, they do fog up. “Gonna let me cum all over your face? Yeah..? No, no, keep them on for me,” he devilishly smirks, licking his lips.

taglist (comment to be added):

@valleydoli @zxnxy @screechingbasementprincess @lexluthorbutnotbald @lynxslokley @briyah0 @levisjinchuriki @maiiluvs @levizonlywife @xllizs @sm8th0p @waterfal-ling @bonneyzsk @ventila98