#and Why do people keep telling me to Just Focus. you sound out of it my dude lmaoo | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

enhaflixer · 3 months ago

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HARD HOURS - Enhypens reaction when you ask them a sexual question

cw: Explicit mentions, choking, spanking, spitting, dirty talk, shower sex, anything else? wc 8.2K TL: @ziiao @beariegyu @naurwayyyyy @ijustwannareadstuff20 @somuchdard @ddolleri @jinnibug AN: HEY YALL KINDA CRAZY BUT THIS WHAT IM BACK WITH, my fav was jungwons for surrrreeee but pls lemme know who's you liked the most in the comments! this is the post to this ask!

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠

Heeseung was sprawled out on the couch, completely locked into his game, fingers tapping furiously at the controller as the sounds of gunfire and explosions filled the room. His brows were furrowed, his jaw set in focus. You could tell by the way his leg bounced slightly that he was fully immersed—until you sat beside him and nudged his thigh.

“Hee?” you murmured sweetly.

“Mm-hmm,” he responded absently, eyes never leaving the screen.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, babe. Just give me a sec,” he murmured, dodging an in-game attack and letting out a satisfied laugh when his opponent went down.

You crossed your arms, tilting your head. “It’s a deep question.”

“Okay,” he said, distracted, “Gimme one more—” He froze as soon as the words fully registered. His head turned slowly, one brow arching in mild suspicion. “Wait. What?”

“It’s a philosophical question,” you continued, fighting back a smile.

“Philosophical,” he repeated dryly. He paused the game, setting the controller on his lap as he gave you a long, unreadable look. “What kind of philosophical question? Like, the meaning of life or something?”

You bit your lip, doing your best to keep a straight face. “Not exactly. It’s about… choking.”

Heeseung blinked. His fingers twitched against the controller. “Choking,” he repeated, his voice suddenly much lower. “Like, uh… the kink?”

“Mhm,” you confirmed, stretching out your legs like this was a casual conversation. “I’ve been thinking about why people like it. Is it about trust? Control? Or maybe something more primal?”

Heeseung stared at you. Then he sighed, dragging a hand down his face before leaning back against the couch. “Are you serious?”

You shrugged. “I think it’s an interesting topic.”

“I was literally about to beat that level,” he muttered, pointing at the paused screen. “And you want me to sit here and analyze the philosophy of choking?”

“Well, you can still play,” you teased, nudging his arm. “I can talk while you game.”

He gave you a long, unimpressed look before picking up the controller again. “You’re insane,” he muttered.

“Think about it,” you continued, grinning at how flustered he was. “Why do we want to give up control like that? What does it say about our trust in each other?”

Heeseung groaned, pausing the game again and dropping the controller onto his lap. “You’re seriously not going to stop until I answer, are you?”

“Nope,” you said brightly, leaning closer to him.

His eyes closed briefly as he let out another sigh. When he opened them again, there was a glint of amusement in his gaze. “Fine,” he muttered, setting the controller aside completely. “If you want to talk about trust and control or whatever, I guess we can do that. But just remember—you brought this on yourself.”

The corners of his mouth twitched upward, and despite his initial exasperation, you could tell he was starting to enjoy this. He leaned toward you, resting his forearm on his knee, and smirked. “Alright, philosopher. Let’s hear it.”

You blinked, slightly taken aback by his sudden shift in attitude. “Wait—are you actually interested now?”

Heeseung’s smirk grew. “No,” he said flatly, crossing his arms, “but you’re clearly not gonna let this go. So go ahead, hit me with your big philosophical choking theory.”

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh at how serious he looked. “Okay, well, I think it’s not just about the physical act, you know? It’s about trust. You’re giving someone that much control over you, and you have to fully trust them not to hurt you. That’s kind of beautiful, don’t you think?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Beautiful?”

You shrugged. “Yeah. It’s like a dance—one person leads, the other follows, but only because they trust that the other person knows exactly when to stop. It’s not just primal. It’s… intimate.”

Heeseung snorted. “Intimate,” he repeated, shaking his head. “You’re really turning choking into some kind of love poem?”

“I’m just saying!” you protested, throwing up your hands. “It’s more than just physical. Don’t you ever think about why we’re into the things we’re into?”

He let out a short laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “No, not really. I just figured you liked it rough sometimes.”

You couldn’t help but grin at how casually he said it. “Well, yeah, but it’s not just that. It’s the trust. The dynamic. That feeling of giving up control in a safe way. Don’t you ever think about what that means?”

Heeseung looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a dramatic groan, he reached for his controller again. “I think it means I’m never gonna get to finish this game if you keep talking.”

You laughed, lightly swatting his arm. “You’re such a dork.”

“And you’re overthinking everything,” he shot back, though there was no real bite in his tone. “But fine. If it means that much to you…” He paused, his gaze flickering down to your lips before he leaned in closer, just barely brushing against you. His voice dropped slightly as he added, “Maybe I’ll show you exactly what trust feels like later.”

Your breath hitched, the teasing smirk on his face making your pulse race.

He pulled back quickly, though, laughing as he turned back to his game. “But only if you let me beat this level first.”

Heeseung’s fingers lingered against your jaw, his thumb moving in slow, deliberate circles along your cheekbone. His eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, flickered over your face, lingering on your parted lips. He was watching—reading you—taking in every shaky breath, every nervous flick of your gaze, every small movement that gave you away.

“You like this, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice lower now, a velvety, teasing hum. His lips hovered just inches from yours, and you could feel his breath ghosting over your skin. Close, but not close enough.

Your pulse jumped. He wasn’t even touching you properly yet, and somehow, he had you completely at his mercy. “You’re the one making me wait,” you managed to whisper, though your voice lacked the teasing edge you intended.

Heeseung chuckled softly, the sound deep and knowing. His grip tightened slightly, his fingers sliding down the column of your neck, grazing your collarbone before settling just above your waist. He held you there, his touch grounding but unhurried—like he was savoring the anticipation, like he knew exactly how worked up you were and was in no rush to give you what you wanted.

“That’s because I like seeing you like this,” he admitted, his tone smooth and unbothered, yet threaded with something darker. “All needy. Barely keeping it together.” His thumb dipped slightly, brushing against the waistband of your shorts before retreating—just enough to make you twitch under his touch.

Your breath hitched, and his smirk grew.

“You keep talking about trust,” Heeseung continued, his fingers toying lazily with the fabric at your hip. His movements were slow, agonizingly slow, as if daring you to break first. “But you already know you trust me.”

Your body leaned into him instinctively, searching for more, but his grip tightened just enough to hold you still. “Then prove it,” he whispered against your jaw, his lips finally making contact. “Let me do everything.”

The words sent a shiver through you.

His mouth moved down, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, his tongue tracing the faintest heat against your skin before he pulled back—leaving you aching for more. His other hand slid under the hem of your shirt, fingertips grazing over your ribs before drifting lower. Every touch was calculated, purposeful. Just enough to make your stomach tighten, just enough to make you want to beg.

But you didn’t. Not yet.

Instead, you dug your fingers into his shoulders, holding onto him as if he were the only thing tethering you to reality. Heeseung chuckled again, the sound vibrating against your throat.

“You’re holding on so tight,” he murmured, his voice dipping even lower. His lips hovered just beneath your ear. “Afraid I’ll let go?”

You swallowed hard. “No,” you whispered.

His teeth grazed the sensitive spot on your neck, just barely. “Then stop thinking,” he ordered softly. “Just let me take care of you.”

Your breath came quicker now, your body already burning with anticipation. And Heeseung—Heeseung could feel it.

His smirk deepened as he pulled back slightly, dark eyes flickering over your face. He was still taking his time, still making you wait. His fingers skimmed lower, trailing along the waistband of your shorts once more before slipping underneath.

You gasped softly, your fingers tightening against his skin.

Heeseung grinned, satisfied. “That’s better,” he murmured. “Now let’s see just how much you really trust me.”

And then, finally—finally—he gave you exactly what you needed.

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠

Jay was so patient with you.

Your husband spoiled you endlessly, let you crawl into his lap whenever you wanted, kissed you lazily even when he was exhausted, and held you close like you were the only thing keeping him grounded. But tonight? Tonight, he was actually trying to work.

You should’ve let him.

But then, you didn’t.

Instead, you climbed into his lap without warning, straddling him like it was the most natural thing in the world. He froze immediately, hands still hovering over his MIDI keyboard, his body going stiff beneath you.

You could feel his exhale against your neck. Slow, steady, knowing.

“…Bored?” he asked finally, his voice warm but very clearly suspicious.

You hummed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “Not really. Just wanted to sit here.”

Jay let out a slow suffering sigh, but his hands settled on your waist instinctively. “Baby, you know I’m—”

“Can I ask you something?” you interrupted, tilting your head.

His fingers drummed absentmindedly against your back. “Okay…” He gave you a very skeptical look. “Is it normal?”

You pursed your lips, pretending to think. “I’d say so.”

Jay narrowed his eyes slightly, still not trusting you one bit. “Go on.”

You leaned in, brushing your lips against his jaw before whispering, “Why do you think I like sitting on your face so much?”

Jay’s entire body locked up.

His grip on your waist tightened immediately. His lips parted slightly, his pupils dilating as his brain fully shut down.He blinked once. Twice.

“…What?”

You smirked. “Do you think it’s about power? Like, I like being in control? Or do you think it’s more about trust?”

Jay just kept blinking.

You could see the exact moment his brain tried and failed to process what you had just said. His brows furrowed slightly, his jaw tensing.

“…Are we really having this conversation right now?”

You grinned. “Yes.”

Jay let out the deepest sigh, dragging a hand down his face. “I—what? Why?”

“Because it’s an interesting question.”

His hands slid down to your hips, gripping firmly. “Baby, I was literally working. And you just decided now was the best time to talk about why you like—”

“It’s psychology, Jay.” You lifted your hips slightly before settling back down, just enough to feel the way his breath hitched beneath you.

Jay’s fingers flexed, hard. His grip on you tightened instantly. His jaw clenched, visibly trying to keep it together.

“…You’re actually insane,” he muttered.

“But you love me,” you teased, shifting slightly again.

Jay inhaled sharply, his patience visibly wearing thin. “Okay,” he muttered, voice lower now. “You want an answer?”

You nodded, biting back a smirk.

His fingers traced slow, lazy circles against your hips. “I think,” he murmured, his tone dipping into something dangerous, “you like it because you know I’d stay there for hours if you let me.”

Your breath hitched.

Jay’s smirk deepened, his hands gripping tighter now. “Because you like having me at your mercy. Because you like seeing me fall apart underneath you.”

Your heartbeat thundered in your ears.

He leaned in, his lips just barely brushing against yours. “But if you wanna talk about trust,” he whispered, “then let’s test it.”

Before you could react, he rolled his hips up into you.

A sharp gasp left your lips as the friction sent a rush of heat straight to your stomach. Jay’s smirk didn’t fade. If anything, it grew as his hands guided you—slow, lazy movements, just enough to tease.

“Still wanna keep talking?” he asked, voice all silk and sin.

You barely managed to swallow. “I—”

He rolled up again, his grip tightening.

You whimpered.

Jay chuckled, leaning in until his lips brushed against your ear. “That’s what I thought.”

His hands guided you over him again, the friction sparking a dangerous kind of heat between your legs, your thighs trembling slightly as you gripped his shoulders. You could feel everything. The way he fit against you perfectly, the heat of his body radiating through the thin layers between you.

Jay’s lips brushed your jaw, his voice a low murmur. “I want you to feel it.”

You barely managed a reply before he rocked you down against him again, harder this time. A choked moan left your lips, your fingers digging into his shoulders, your body already burning.

Jay’s hands didn’t stop. Didn’t slow down.

His lips curled against your ear. “See?” he whispered. “You don’t even need my mouth to fall apart.”

You let out a desperate, broken noise, gripping onto him as your stomach coiled tighter and tighter, the slow, deliberate grind of his hips sending waves of heat through you.

“You wanted to talk about trust?” Jay muttered. “Then trust me. Let go.”

And then, he pushed up into you just right.

Your body gave in instantly, the sharp, overwhelming pleasure ripping through you too fast to stop. You trembled in his arms, your breath catching, your nails biting into his skin as you came right there, just from the way he moved you.

Jay let out a low groan, his hands gripping your waist as he kept you steady through it, watching you come undone in his lap.

And when you finally slumped against his chest, shaky and breathless, he just chuckled, his voice filled with pure satisfaction.

“That,” he murmured, lips pressing against your temple, “is the real answer to your question.”

𝐒𝐢𝐦 𝐉𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐮𝐧

Jake was completely at peace.

Sprawled across the couch, his laptop open in front of him, he was deep into some ridiculously long YouTube documentary about deep-sea fishing. His head was resting comfortably against the couch cushions, his arm draped lazily over the backrest, the other settled comfortably around your waist. You were leaning into his chest, tucked perfectly against him, the warmth of his body pressing into yours as he absentmindedly traced slow, light circles over your stomach.

It was comfortable. Domestic.

It was also about to be completely ruined.

He hadn’t even realized what he had done, how carelessly he had set himself up for failure, until it was far too late. Because when you walked in, when you settled so easily into his lap, nuzzling into him like you belonged there, he greeted you without thinking.

“Hi, my angel.”

The moment the words left his lips, his entire body tensed.

The realization hit him immediately.

A slow, creeping pause settled between you, as if even the air had stilled. His fingers froze mid-trace against your stomach. His breath hitched, sharp and slow, and you—you little menace—smiled. Sweetly.

Jake blinked once. Then twice. He swallowed hard, his grip on you tightening slightly. His brain was already trying to calculate how to undo his mistake, how to steer this moment back into something safe.

But it was too late.

His breath came slower now, more measured, more cautious. “Wait…” he murmured, his voice tinged with immediate regret.

You tilted your head up, still smiling. “Can I ask you something?”

Jake let out a slow, suffering sigh. “Oh, here we go.”

You ignored him, shifting slightly in his lap, settling in closer. “Why do you think dirty talk is so powerful?” you asked, your tone almost innocent. “Do you think it’s more about power dynamics? Or is it psychological?”

Jake’s entire body locked up.

Every single part of him—his hands, his breath, the subtle rise and fall of his chest—all of it stopped.

Like a deer caught in headlights, his fingers, which had been resting lazily on your stomach, stiffened completely. His jaw went tight. His chest barely moved.

Then, after a long, long moment of absolute silence, he sucked in a slow, sharp inhale.

His head tilted back against the couch, eyes fixed on the ceiling as if asking the universe why it had forsaken him.His hands dragged down his face, his frustration so tangible you could almost taste it.

“…What the fuck.”

You giggled. “It’s a valid question.”

Jake turned his head so slowly it was almost painful, his eyes narrowed in pure disbelief. “No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s fucking not.”

Jake exhaled sharply through his nose, gripping your waist like he was trying to ground himself. “Baby,” he said, his voice so strained, “I was watching a fishing video.”

“And now we’re talking about something even more interesting,” you chirped, shifting in his lap just slightly.

Jake’s fingers flexed instantly. His grip on your waist tightened.

He exhaled through his nose again, sharper this time. “You are actually the worst,” he muttered, his jaw clenching.

You grabbed his hand, lifting it to your lips.

Jake immediately stopped breathing.

You kissed his fingertips softly, the warmth of your lips pressing against his skin before slowly, purposefully, slipping two of them into your mouth.

Sucking.

Jake let out a low, shaky breath. His entire body tensed.

His hand, which had been resting casually on your stomach just seconds ago, was now twitching in your grasp, his fingers pressing lightly against your tongue, his pulse quickening beneath your fingertips.

“…What are you doing?” he asked, voice dangerously lower.

You pulled his fingers out with a soft pop, tilting your head. “Getting them wet.”

Jake’s pupils dilated instantly.

His breath hitched as he swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His entire system was malfunctioning.

“For what?” he finally croaked, voice hoarse.

You guided his hand back down, slipping it beneath your waistband.

Jake’s breath hitched violently.

“Oh, fuck.”

His fingers twitched, and his entire body went rigid.

You turned your head slightly, your lips brushing his jaw. “Go on, Jakey.”

Jake let out a low, shaky exhale. “You are—” He cut himself off, sucking in a breath.

Then, after a second of pure hesitation, his fingers finally moved.

A soft whimper escaped you, and Jake lost it.

His arm tightened around your waist, his lips brushing against your temple. “You wanna talk about power?” he whispered. “Let’s test it.”

His fingers pressed deeper, teasing, purposeful, unhurried. He was taking his time, dragging the moment out just to see how long you could last.

Your hips jerked slightly, seeking more, but Jake just chuckled darkly.

“Patience, angel,” he murmured, so smug. “Since you wanted a full analysis, I think it’s only fair I take my time.”

His fingers dipped lower, spreading you apart as he dragged his touch through your slick. His movements were infuriatingly slow, feather-light strokes that had your thighs tensing instantly.

Jake hummed, his breath warm against your ear. “Shit, baby. You’re already this wet? Just from that?”

You bit your lip, breathing uneven.

His fingers stilled. “Use your words.”

You swallowed hard. “Y-yeah, Jakey.”

Jake let out a low groan, his lips pressing to the side of your neck. “Fuck. I should’ve known. My needy girl just loves being talked to, huh?”

You nodded quickly.

Jake chuckled darkly, his fingers suddenly pressing deeper, rubbing slow, deliberate circles.

Your breath hitched, your legs tensing.

“You’re so easy to ruin,” he muttered, his tone filled with pure, filthy amusement.

His fingers picked up the pace, dipping inside you before pressing back up to rub exactly where you needed. Your hips jerked helplessly, a soft moan spilling from your lips as you gripped his arm for support.

Jake smirked. “Oh, you love this, don’t you?”

And then, he ruined you.

His fingers pressed deep, rubbing fast, relentless, filthy, perfect. His free hand tightened around your stomach, holding you down against him as you squirmed helplessly.

Jake groaned, his voice low and pleased. “That’s it, angel,” he murmured. “Just like that. Let me feel you.”

Your stomach tightened as the pleasure crashed over you too fast to stop.

And when it was over, when you were spent and shaking in his arms, Jake just smirked, bringing his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean.

“Philosophy lesson’s over, angel,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Now you’re just mine.”

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧

Sunghoon had one simple goal: take a shower, relax, and get some goddamn peace.

But no. That was never an option when it came to you.

The second you waltzed into the bathroom, planted yourself on the closed toilet lid, and smirked up at him like you had something evil brewing in that brain of yours, he should’ve just turned around and walked straight out.

But instead, he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face as he peeled off his shirt, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He should’ve ignored you.

But then—

“Babe, have I told you that you look suuuuuuper sexy right now?”

His fingers froze mid-motion on the waistband of his sweatpants. His entire body stiffened. Slowly, too slowly, he turned to look at you, his jaw already clenching.

He squinted, suspicious. “What do you want?”

You gasped, so dramatically, placing a hand over your chest like you were some old-timey actress in distress. “Why do you assume I want something?”

Sunghoon exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. He knew you. He knew exactly where this was going.

Your grin widened. “Can I ask you something?”

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “No.”

“You haven’t even heard it yet!” you pouted.

Another sigh. "Fine. What?"

You tilted your head, studying him like he was a puzzle you were trying to solve.

And then—you ruined his entire night.

"Why do you think I like it so much when you fuck me in the shower?"

Silence.

A long, painful, unbearable silence.

Sunghoon just stood there, blinking, processing, trying to comprehend the absolute nonsense you had just said.

Then, without a single word, he turned to the shower wall and banged his head against the tile.

"Are you fucking serious?"

You burst into laughter, delighted. "What? It's a valid question!"

His jaw clenched. His fists curled at his sides. He inhaled deeply, through his nose, struggling for self-restraint.

His patience was hanging by a thread.

“Why,” he muttered, voice painfully flat, "why the fuck would you ask me that right now?"

You shrugged, still grinning. “Just curious.”

His eyes narrowed. “No, you’re not. You’re trying to start shit.”

You giggled. “I’m not! I just think it’s interesting.”

Sunghoon dragged a hand through his hair, his muscles tensing, his biceps flexing slightly in frustration. “I hate you .”

"No, you don't," you chimed, voice way too smug.

Sunghoon tilted his head back against the tile, exhaling sharply, as if praying for patience.

And then, you made it worse.

You stretched, arching your back slightly, batting your lashes up at him, letting the steam from the running shower kiss your skin.

"You're so dense sometimes," you teased, voice syrupy-sweet, laced with pure mischief.

Sunghoon’s head snapped toward you instantly.

His eyes darkened. His fingers twitched.

You smirked. "Maybe I just want you to fuck me in the shower."

That was it.

That was the final straw.

Sunghoon full-body froze.

For a second, he didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t even breathe.

And then, his patience snapped.

In two quick strides, he was in front of you, gripping your wrist and yanking you up onto your feet. His other hand grasped the back of your neck, tilting your head up until your breath hitched.

His eyes? Dark. Sharp. Absolutely wrecked.

His thumb brushed along your jaw, teasing, firm, unforgiving.

"Say that again."

Your stomach flipped violently.

His grip on your waist tightened.

You smirked. "Maybe I just want you to f—"

You never got to finish your sentence.

Sunghoon grabbed you, lifted you effortlessly, and carried you straight into the shower.

Your scream of protest barely made it out before the water crashed over both of you, drenching you instantly.

And then—

"WAIT—LET ME TAKE MY BRA OFF FIRST!"

Sunghoon froze.

His grip on your thighs tightened slightly.

Then, slowly—so painfully slowly—he lifted his head, staring at you like you had just spoken a completely different language.

“…What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You whined, struggling in his grip, water dripping down your face. "Hoon, it's new! I don't wanna get it wet!"

Sunghoon let out the most exasperated laugh, shaking his head like he was physically restraining himself from throwing his head back in frustration.

"Baby. It’s just a bra.”

Your jaw dropped. "It is NOT just a bra!"

Sunghoon groaned, tilting his head back, breathing deeply like he was trying to find the strength to not completely combust.

Then, after a beat, his grip on you changed.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he muttered, voice darker now, rougher, wrecked beyond belief.

Then, before you could even react, his mouth latched onto your collarbone, biting, teasing.

Your protest turned into a sharp gasp.

His hands slid up your soaked body, fingers hooking under the bra straps, dragging them down, his teeth grazing against your skin.

And then, he sucked.

Hard.

Your breath hitched violently, your back arching instinctively.

Sunghoon groaned against you, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud, teasing, tugging. His grip tightened, pressing you further into the tile.

"You're whining about a bra, but you're already falling apart," he muttered against your skin.

Your fingers clawed at his shoulders, legs trembling in his grasp. "H-Hoon—"

He grinned against your skin, completely in control now, completely in his element.

He licked a slow stripe over your nipple, sucking it into his mouth again.

Then, with a groan that sent heat pooling between your thighs, he sighed against your skin.

His mouth was fixated on your chest, his hands squeezing, kneading, his lips sucking bruises into your soft skin. His teeth scraped lightly, tongue flicking, mouth warm and wet as he groaned against your body.

His grip on your thighs tightened, pressing you further into the cool tile, the contrast of heat and cold making your breath hitch. He was obsessed, hyper-focused, like he was trying to commit every inch of you to memory.

And then—you ruined him all over again.

Between sharp gasps and breathy whimpers, you let out a teasing, mock-thoughtful hum.

"Hoon… if you had to choose, my tits or me… which one?"

Sunghoon’s movements completely stopped.

His teeth grazed over your nipple, pausing mid-bite. His fingers flexed against your waist, gripping you tighter. His breath stalled.

Then—so, so slowly—he lifted his head.

Water dripped from his soaked hair, running down his sharp jaw, over his kiss-swollen lips, and down the defined slope of his collarbones. His eyes flickered up, meeting yours—dark, dazed, completely wrecked.

And then, he let out the most exasperated groan of his life.

"Are you actually insane?"

You giggled, wiggling slightly in his grasp. “It’s a simple question.”

Sunghoon’s jaw clenched. His fingers dug into your thighs, holding you in place. He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes.

And then—just to make you suffer, he exhaled slowly, dragging his hands over your curves, squeezing your waist, before moving right back up to your chest.

His thumb brushed over your nipple lazily, teasing, deliberate. Then, he leaned in again, mouth hovering right over your skin, his breath warm, smirking against you.

"Hmm," he murmured, mock considering. "That’s actually a really hard choice, baby…"

Your stomach flipped violently.

He tilted his head, exhaling sharply through his nose, like he was really thinking about it. "I mean," he continued, squeezing your breasts again, licking a slow, teasing stripe over the sensitive skin, "on one hand, your tits are literally perfect."

His tongue flicked over your nipple, making your breath stutter.

"So soft, so fucking pretty, fit right in my hands," he groaned, his voice dropping lower, hungrier.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders. "Hoon—"

"But," he interrupted, grinning against your skin, pressing another wet, open-mouthed kiss, his teeth nipping at the skin right above your breast.

"You’re also really cute."

You snorted, shoving at his shoulder. "Really cute? That’s the best you’ve got?"

Sunghoon grinned, squeezing your thighs tighter. "I’m literally worshiping you in the shower, and you’re worried about my choice of words?"

You huffed. "You didn’t answer the question."

Sunghoon pulled back slightly, tilting his head, mock-considering again. Then, with zero shame, he muttered, "Honestly? …I might have to choose the tits."

Your jaw dropped. “HOON!”

He broke instantly, laughing against your skin, his grip on you tightening as you squirmed against him.

"I’m kidding, I’m kidding!" he choked out between laughs, pressing hot, teasing kisses back over your chest, dragging his tongue across every inch of skin he could reach.

Then, as he pulled you even closer, mouth ghosting over your ear, voice dripping with amusement and something darker, something heavier, he murmured—

"Don’t worry, baby."

He nipped at your earlobe, grinning against your skin.

"I’d never survive without you."

And then, he sank back down, lips wrapping around your nipple again, sucking deep and slow, like he was tasting something addictive.

This time, he looked up while he did it.

His big, dark eyes locked onto yours, wide and intense, watching every tiny shift in your expression. The moment your lips parted on a shaky moan, his grip tightened on your waist, his tongue flicking deliberately against the peak before closing his lips around it again, sucking harder.

His eyes never left your face.

Every time you gasped, every time your brows furrowed slightly in pleasure, he noticed. His breath came out faster, rougher, his pupils blown wide as if he was getting off on watching you unravel.

He pulled off with a wet pop, lips pink and glossy, tongue swiping over them as he tilted his head.

“Fuck.”

His voice was wrecked. Raspy. So deep it sent a sharp pulse straight through your core.

“You look so pretty when I do that,” he murmured.

His mouth was right back on you, sucking even harder, his eyes heavy-lidded, unwavering.

His fingers kneaded your other breast, rolling the sensitive bud between his fingers, his hips pressing forward, pinning you completely against the tile.

The look on his face was pure hunger.

"I swear, I could do this forever, baby."

His voice was low, hoarse, slurred around his next breath. His thumb brushed over your nipple, teasingly slow. His lips pressed soft, wet kisses down the swell of your breast, dragging his teeth slightly as he went.

And then, as if the realization just hit him, he let out a soft groan, his head dropping briefly against your chest.

"God, I hate you," he muttered, his breath warm against your skin.

You let out a breathless laugh. "Yeah?"

Sunghoon lifted his head, grinning slightly, but his eyes were still dark, still drunk off you.

Then, with zero hesitation, he leaned down, kissing between your breasts, nipping lightly at your skin, before whispering—

"But I love your tits. I can’t live without them."

𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐨𝐨

Sunoo was thrilled.

Not because of the movie playing on his laptop, not because he had finally gotten comfortable on the couch with his oversized blanket. No.

He was thrilled because you had just turned to him, eyes glinting with curiosity, and asked—

“Why do you think I like being praised so much?”

Sunoo blinked once.

Then, his entire face lit up.

“Oh, finally! A topic I actually care about!”

You snorted immediately. “What does that mean?”

Sunoo sat up straight, pulling the blanket off his shoulders like he was preparing for a TED Talk. “It means I have thoughts.”

Your lips twitched. “You’ve thought about this before?”

"Obviously." His tone was borderline offended. “Baby, do you realize how much you fish for compliments? If I don’t tell you you’re pretty at least three times a day, you start getting restless.”

You gasped, scandalized. “I do NOT!”

Sunoo arched a brow.

You pouted. “…Maybe a little.”

He grinned, smug. “See? And that’s why I already have a theory.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Alright, genius. Enlighten me.”

Sunoo’s eyes practically sparkled.

“It’s because you like validation, but not just any validation—you like earned validation.”

Your brows furrowed. “Go on.”

Sunoo tilted his head, clearly enjoying this way too much. “See, if I tell you you’re beautiful just because, you’ll accept it—but if I tell you that you’re beautiful because you just made me lose my mind in bed? That’s what gets you going.”

You froze.

Sunoo smirked immediately. “Ohhh, I’m right, aren’t I?”

You swallowed. “…Continue.”

He leaned in slightly, his voice turning softer, smoother. “You don’t just want to hear that you’re good at something—you want proof. You want me to tell you how good you are, how perfect you are, while I’m literally falling apart because of you.”

Your entire body felt like it was heating up.

Sunoo’s eyes gleamed. “You want to be the best. You want to feel like you’re irreplaceable.”

You bit your lip, suddenly very aware of how close he was getting.

And then, as if he was reading your mind, he smiled sweetly, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

“You like being praised because you like knowing you’re ruining me.”

Your breath hitched.

And Sunoo caught it immediately.

His smirk turned positively sinful. “See? I told you I was right.”

You swallowed, trying to recover, but the knowing glint in his eyes had you spiraling. “Okay, fine. Maybe you have a point.”

Sunoo grinned, entirely too satisfied.

Then, just to push you further, he tilted his head, watching you closely. “Do you want me to prove it?”

Your entire body shivered.

And that was all the confirmation he needed.

Sunoo was still sitting, his posture perfectly relaxed, but his eyes? His eyes told a different story. They were dark, glinting with something sharp, something playful, something completely devastating.

And you?

You were fully spiraling.

Your breath hitched, barely noticeable, but Sunoo caught it immediately. His lips twitched into the softest smirk, like he was already celebrating his victory.

Then, with the slowest, most deliberate movement possible, he reached forward, his fingers brushing against your chin, tilting your face up slightly.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” he mused, voice velvety smooth, teasing.

Your heart slammed against your ribs. “I—I’m just…” You swallowed. “Thinking.”

Sunoo smirked. “Mm. Thinking.”

And then, without warning, he closed the space between you.

The first kiss was soft, teasing, just a hint of pressure. Just enough to make your breath stutter.

But then?

Then he tilted his head slightly, deepening it—just barely.

And that was your first mistake.

Because the second your body melted into him, the second your fingers gripped onto his sweater slightly, he smiled into the kiss—fully in control, fully aware of the power he had over you.

His hand slid up your jaw, fingers pressing lightly at the hinge, guiding you into the kiss the way he wanted.

Slow. Controlled. Completely devastating.

When he finally pulled back slightly, his lips were already kiss-swollen, his breath uneven.

But his eyes?

Smug. So, so smug.

“You like it when I take my time, don’t you?” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

Your stomach flipped violently.

Sunoo grinned. “That’s what I thought.”

And then, before you could even respond, he was on you again.

This time, no hesitation, no teasing.

Just deep, soul-stealing kisses, his lips moving against yours slow and deliberate, as if he was savoring every second.

His free hand slid down, gripping your waist, pulling you closer, until you were practically pressed against him.

You let out a soft, breathless sound, and that was all it took.

Sunoo groaned softly against your lips, his fingers tightening on your waist as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss even further.

His tongue traced along your bottom lip, slow, unhurried, teasing, and when you gasped softly, he swallowed the sound immediately, taking full control of the kiss.

And just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, he pulled away—just barely, just enough to make you chase his lips.

His breath fanned against your mouth, his lips grazing yours as he whispered—

“See, baby?”

His fingers slid along your jaw, tilting your chin up slightly, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“You love it when I praise you.”

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐰𝐨𝐧

It had been one of those weeks. Jungwon was exhausted, and all he wanted was a night of uninterrupted sleep. But you had other plans.

You’d been tossing and turning beside him for nearly half an hour, sighing loudly, shifting closer and closer as if waiting for him to acknowledge you. He didn’t. He stayed still, kept his eyes shut, and prayed you’d get tired and fall asleep.

Instead, you whispered, “Jungwon?”

He ignored you.

“Jungwon,” you tried again, your voice sweet and teasing.

A sharp sigh escaped him, and finally, he muttered, “What.”

You smiled, pressing yourself closer. “Can we talk about something?”

“No,” he said flatly, eyes still closed.

“But it’s important.”

“It’s never important.” His voice was calm, but there was a sharp edge to it.

“You don’t even know what it is yet,” you said, undeterred.

Jungwon opened his eyes just enough to glare at you. His expression was entirely unamused, but the annoyance in his face was matched with a weariness that made his sharp tone almost flat. “Fine,” he muttered. “What is it?”

You bit your lip, trailing your fingers lightly over his stomach. “It’s about sex.”

He stilled, his hand twitching against the blanket. “…What about it.”

“I’ve been thinking,” you said, drawing out your words as you brushed your nails down his chest, “about why I always want you to fuck me until I cry.”

His jaw clenched, his body going rigid. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. Then, with an exaggerated exhale, he rolled over and faced the wall.

You gasped. “Oh my God. You’re actually ignoring me?”

“Yes.”

“But I need you.”

“You always need me.”

“And you love it.”

Jungwon let out the heaviest sigh you’d ever heard. After another moment of silence, he rolled onto his back again, dragging a hand down his face. His eyes were half-lidded, heavy with exhaustion and exasperation.

“You have no self-control,” he muttered.

You grinned. “Mhm.”

He shook his head. “No, because let’s really talk about this. You’re constantly like this. Always touching me, always saying things like that. Do you have any idea how impossible you make my life?”

You giggled softly, your fingers moving lower. “I do.”

“That wasn’t a compliment,” he said, narrowing his eyes at you.

“But you love me.”

“…Unfortunately.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, his patience hanging by a thread. “I have been told I have a very high sex drive, but baby, I do not have the facilities to go three times a day. I have things to do. I need sleep. I need to—”

His voice cut off mid-sentence as he noticed where your hand had gone. His gaze dropped, and his lips parted slightly as he registered the slow, deliberate circles you were making against yourself.

“Are you seriously doing that right now?” he asked, his voice low and clipped.

You smirked, letting out a soft moan. “Mhm.”

Jungwon’s jaw tightened. His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist and pulling it away. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, his voice quiet and controlled. “You really have no shame, do you?”

His free hand trailed down to your thigh, pausing just at the edge of your hip. “You’ve made my life difficult every single day this week. And now you’re doing this.” His fingers brushed against you lightly, making you shiver. “Fine. If you’re going to be this much of a problem, then count every single time you’ve made things harder for me.”

“Count?” you repeated, your breath catching.

“Count,” he ordered, his voice calm but firm. He paused just long enough for you to hesitate before delivering a sharp slap against your center.

You gasped, your back arching slightly at the sudden sting.

“One,” you murmured, your voice unsteady.

Jungwon hummed softly, satisfied. “Good. Now keep going. Let’s start with Monday—when you woke me up two hours early because you were ‘bored.’ I told you to wait until I was actually awake, but you just wouldn’t stop until I gave in.”

Another slap.

“Two.”

“Tuesday,” he continued, his voice still low and even, though his grip on your wrist remained firm. “I had a meeting, and you climbed onto my lap, whispering in my ear, making it impossible to focus. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

The slap that followed was harder this time, the sharp sound echoing through the room.

“Three.”

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze steady on you. “Wednesday. I was trying to work, and you walked in wearing that shirt you know drives me insane. You didn’t even have a reason—just stood there, stretching, pretending not to notice what it did to me.”

Another slap, this one leaving you breathless.

“Four.”

“Thursday,” Jungwon continued, his tone remaining measured. “I came home late, exhausted, ready to collapse. But you were waiting in bed, saying you couldn’t sleep, that you missed me, that you needed me—like I didn’t have the right to rest after a long day.”

The next slap made you whimper, and you barely managed to whisper the number.

“Five.”

“And Friday,” he said, his voice calm and thoughtful, as though he were simply recounting facts. “You walked in while I was on the phone, saying the filthiest things in my ear, completely throwing me off.”

Another slap, another gasp, another quiet number.

“Six.”

Jungwon smirked faintly, his expression unreadable as he leaned down, his breath warm against your ear. “Six times,” he murmured. “Six times this week you’ve pushed me too far. I wonder how many more it’ll take before you finally learn.”

And then, without warning, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your neck before he parted them. A single strand of saliva dripped from his mouth, landing directly where his hand had just been. The warmth of it sent a shiver through you, and your thighs instinctively shifted.

Jungwon watched your reaction, his gaze dark. “You don’t listen,” he muttered, his thumb moving to spread the wetness over your heated skin. “But that’s fine. I’ll just have to remind you again.”

With that, he leaned down further, his mouth finding its way to your skin. His lips pressed lightly, his tongue dragging along the sensitive area. And when he finally took you in his mouth, the warmth, the pressure—it was too much. Your breathing quickened, your hands clenching the sheets as he worked, his actions slow, deliberate, and relentless.

Jungwon pulled back slightly, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. He glanced up at you, his expression still composed, though his eyes burned with intensity. “You’ll count properly next time,” he said quietly, his tone steady, “or we’ll just keep going until you do.”

𝐍𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐤𝐢

The private court was quiet, except for the sound of sneakers skidding across the pavement, the steady rhythm of the basketball bouncing, and the occasional swoosh of a perfect shot hitting the net.

It was almost peaceful.

Almost.

Because you were bored out of your mind.

At first, you had been entertained—watching Riki drip with sweat, his muscles flexing subtly under his shirt, his jaw clenched in focus as he moved effortlessly across the court. You could’ve sat there for hours.

But now?

Now you were kicking at the pavement, sprawling yourself dramatically across the bench, watching him ignore you like it was his job.

You sighed loudly. "Ni-ki."

“Mmm.” He didn’t even glance at you, lining up another shot.

You huffed. "I’m bored."

“Okay,” he said, still not looking.

Your eye twitched. “That’s it?”

He smirked slightly, dribbling the ball lazily. “What do you want me to do? Call the circus to entertain you?”

“I don’t know,” you grumbled, watching as he effortlessly sunk another shot before catching the ball again.

Riki finally turned, spinning the ball in his hands, giving you the laziest grin. “You literally begged to come watch me play.”

“Yeah, because I thought you'd be entertaining,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “Instead, I’m just sitting here, staring at you running around in circles.”

He grinned. “So basically, you just like watching me be hot.”

You snorted. “I mean… yeah.”

Riki’s smirk widened. “I knew it.”

You rolled your eyes, but then, an idea hit you.

A terrible, wonderful, completely deranged idea.

“Actually,” you started, stretching your arms above your head, watching him carefully, “I have a question.”

Riki blinked, dribbling absently. "Why do I feel like this is about to be something weird?"

You ignored him. “Why do you think I like it so much when you spit in my mouth?”

Silence.

Riki’s hands literally stopped moving. The ball bounced off his foot and rolled away.

Very, very slowly, he turned to stare at you, expression completely blank.

“…I’m sorry?”

You grinned. “Like, psychologically. What do you think it means?”

His mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.

Nothing came out.

You waited. Smiling. Expectant.

Riki exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

You gasped, mock-offended. “That’s rude! It’s a normal question!”

“That is not a normal question!” He threw his hands up, fully spiraling now. “Who the hell sits courtside, watches their boyfriend play basketball, and then just—just casually wonders about the deeper meaning of spit kinks?!”

You shrugged, completely unbothered. “I just think it’s interesting.”

Riki rubbed his temples like you were giving him a migraine. “Jesus Christ.”

Then, after a long pause, he squinted at you. “…So, do you actually want an answer?”

You grinned. “Obviously.”

Riki groaned, shaking his head. "You're actually insane."

But then—he actually thought about it.

“…Okay, fine.” He crossed his arms, looking at you like you were a science experiment. "You like being spit in because you’re gross."

You rolled your eyes. "Okay, Mr. Psychology Degree."

He smirked. "No, seriously. It’s the ownership thing, isn’t it? It’s about control. You like it because it’s filthy and degrading, and that’s what gets you off."

Your stomach flipped violently.

Riki caught it immediately.

His grin widened. "Ohhh, that’s totally it."

You crossed your arms, trying to play it cool. “I—maybe. Continue.”

He tilted his head, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. “It’s primal, isn’t it? Something about me doing something so demeaning, but you still loving it. Like you’d take anything I give you.”

Your thighs pressed together involuntarily.

And of course, Riki saw.

His smirk turned wicked.

"You like it," he murmured, stepping forward, bouncing the basketball once before letting it roll away.

Your back straightened. “I never said that.”

"You didn’t have to," he said smoothly.

Then, before you could react, he grabbed your wrist, yanking you up from the bench effortlessly.

You let out a surprised squeak, your hands instinctively pressing against his chest.

"Riki—"

"Shh," he murmured, backing you up until your spine hit the court wall.

Your pulse skyrocketed.

His arms caged you in, his body pressed just barely against yours, not touching but close enough that you could feel his warmth.

"So," he mused, tilting his head, his eyes flicking between yours. "You like it when I’m in control, huh?"

Your breath caught.

Riki grinned, teasing. "What was that thing you said earlier? You like it when I spit in your mouth?"

Your face burned. "I didn’t say I liked it—"

"Oh, no, no, baby," he murmured, leaning in, lips ghosting over yours, breath hot and sweet. "You love it."

You whimpered.

Riki’s grin widened. "Should I prove it?"

Your stomach flipped so hard you nearly collapsed.

And before you could answer, his hand tilted your chin up, thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

His eyes darkened, lips parting slightly as he ran his thumb along your tongue.

"Open," he murmured.

And when you did?

He spat, slow, deliberate, watching with parted lips as it slid over your tongue.

And then, just to make it worse, he whispered—

"Swallow, baby."

Your head spun.

And before you could even process what was happening, his lips crashed against yours.

The kiss was hot, messy, completely unhinged.

His hands slid down, gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him, until you were trapped between his body and the cold wall of the private court.

You gasped softly, and Riki swallowed the sound immediately, deepening the kiss just enough to make your legs weak.

"See?" he muttered against your lips, his voice dripping with amusement.

"You just like letting me win."

Then, with zero hesitation, his hands slipped lower, gripping your thighs.

And before you could say another word, he lifted you effortlessly, pinning you against the wall completely.

The feeling of his hot breath against your neck, the firm press of his body against yours, the way he had you completely at his mercy. It all proved his

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salemlunaa · 5 months ago

Text

｡o○ it’s just meditation ○o｡

you’re not getting what you want because you don’t understand that

no, it’s not magic. no, it hasn’t been unheard of before the days of social media. no, it’s not role play. no, millions of people, some of which don’t even have social media, aren’t coming together to lie. no you’re not a loser because you haven’t shifted yet, you have time. no, you’re not going anywhere. no, your soul isn’t lifting to the higher place of power. no, it’s not a dark place where a genie is in the corner doing your bidding.

it’s just meditation

its a meditative state that you induce: a state of consciousness you reach through meditation. you are just setting intention’s without the barrier of the 3d, that’s it, you aren’t conjuring any thing up with magic, you are setting intention. And when you leave this state of pure consciousness those intentions will come into fruition, and stay that way.

Let’s say your life is a game, and in this game you have a certain body and you want a new one, you want your avatar to change. You’re not conjuring up a new body out of nowhere, you go to the game’s coding space and you moderate things, you set an intention for it to come out in the game. You aren’t leaving the game, you aren’t going to a whole new computer, you aren’t making a new body out of thin air, you’re just setting intention, in this state of total control.

And the only, quite literally the only reason that some of you can’t wrap your heads around how easy it is to induce this is because of society, that’s the only reason, for so long you get told that you must work for all you have and that life isn’t fair and that if something is illogical (by society’s measure) it isn’t real, and i say by society’s measures because inducing a state of consciousness with meditation can be backed up by logic so quickly but people hear the word “manifestation” and decide to write it all off as a joke or unreal.

But let me tell you that resistance, created by what you’ve been taught is the only reason you’re finding it hard, not because the void works for everyone else but you. Not because you keep falling asleep, not because you “just can’t”, it’s because of resistance.

you could have everything you’ve ever dreamt of right now because a meditative state of pure consciousness is all it is, and it’s so easy to induce.

If you go into it with this mindset that you need to put in effort, you will sit there for 20 minutes with your “instant method” wondering why you’re “trying so hard” (immediately no) and nothing is happening. If you go into it with a mindset that when you shift consciousness you get all these symptoms and it’s this whole extravaganza where your soul lifts out of your body, you’re going to be sitting after the 30th minute repeating the same tired affirmations wondering why you just can’t do it.

you don’t need effort, breathe, affirm “I AM” or daydream, or just focus on the darkness of your eyelids and you’re good to go. you’re doing everything right, don’t double check, why would you need to? you’re a god and you’re doing everything right in your reality.

your mind is genuinely an amazing place that makes all these things possible, it’s sounds too good to be true for you and that’s where you go wrong. you don’t have to spend weeks reprogramming your views on pure consciousness, just trust that you are that powerful and you can do those things. because you can, whether you like it or not your mind just is that powerful. No one’s mind is more powerful than someone else’s just because they managed to induce pure consciousness earlier. Your mind is just insanely powerful, that isn’t up for speculation or debunking, it’s just fact.

remember there’s no trial and error for a god, you just do and you just be. you succeed at everything,

go in there with that confidence.

🩰🍵 it’s nothing special, when you get that, you’re good to go.

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snowballseal · 8 months ago

Text

Tipsy Tricks

Sylus X Reader

Summary: You and Sylus agree to focus on work for a little bit, meaning you don't have time to see each other. That is...until you get a panicked call from the twins saying their boss is drunk and needs someone to cuddle with.

Word Count: 1836

Note: FLUFF - Sylus is drunk, but honestly, I feel like he can handle his alcohol well so he does a bit of acting. It's all just to get your attention and he's a little more clingy. Also, Luke and Kieran my beloveds.

---

“Miss, we need your help!”

You blink at the sudden shout that comes through your phone the moment you answer it.

“Luke?”

“Please Miss! Boss is not acting himself!”

“Kieran? Wait- hold on, just-”

“Ah! We’re too late!”

“Please Miss, come save us!”

You blink again as the call ends just as abruptly.

What the-?

You stare at the now dark screen for a long moment, just trying to process what happened. It’s late, late enough that you’re already dressed in your pajamas and winding down in bed. The last thing you were expecting was to get such a panicked call from Luke and Kieran.

What were they even talking about? Why do they need saving? Is something wrong with Sylus?

The thought wedges into your chest like a thorn, sharp and uncomfortable. You hadn’t heard from the Onychinus leader - your lover - in a few days due to his busy schedule. Neither of you liked it, but you agreed it was best he just focus on work, and you’d do the same to keep yourself occupied.

Getting a call like this only makes your anxiety skyrocket.

You don’t even bother wasting the time to change, throwing a coat over your pajamas and snatching your keys as you hurdle out the door.

---

“Miss!!! Oh you’ve come to save us, thank you!”

Luke and Kieran throw the door open before your knuckles even touch it. You jump back, chest heaving from having run all the way from the transport station. They look just as frazzled, well, as frazzled as two men in masks can look.

“What’s wrong? Is Sylus okay? Why are you guys freaking out?” You shoot out questions quickly, grabbing one of the twins by the shoulders. “You guys were infuriatingly cryptic over the phone! Seriously, who calls in the middle of the night like that?”

“We’re sorry,” Luke leans in, trying to rescue his brother from your vicious grip, “We just didn’t know what to do. Boss hardly ever gets like this!”

“He kept talking about you so we figured you could help us,” Kieran insists, ducking away with the help of his brother.

“Okay, but what’s wrong? Is he hurt?” You press for more details, concern only growing. “What happened to make him act weird?”

“He’s drunk.”

…

Your jaw shuts with an audible click, going tense as you stare at them incredulously. Seriously? All of this, all of the panic, the urgency, because Sylus got drunk? You take a deep, slow breath, trying to ease the immediate desire to knock their heads together.

“Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that you called me. In the middle of the night. After I had settled down for bed. Screaming bloody murder over the phone. Because Sylus had too much to drink?”

“...yes.”

“That’s right.”

You close your eyes. Another deep breath. Slowly, the panic that had washed over you recedes, leaving a sliver of irritation and amusement. You really should expect nothing less from them.

“Okay,” you sigh and prop your hands on your hips. The two seem to relax, like they had actually expected you to smack them. Which you might have, if they hadn’t sounded truly distressed earlier. “So why is this such a bad thing? Sylus is an adult, he can handle being a little drunk, but you two are acting like the world is ending. Why?”

“Well you see-”

“Boss gets incredibly physical when he’s drunk-”

“Not in a violent way-”

“Unless he’s around people he doesn’t like.”

“Right.”

You blink slowly at them, “...so?”

“It’s scary!” Kieran crows.

“It’s like having a kodiak bear trying to give you a hug!” Luke adds, curling his fingers in a gesture you’re sure is meant to mimic said bear.

“We love the boss, but we can’t handle him like this.”

“And he kept asking for you! So we called.”

Ah.

You take a moment to really process all of it. Sylus is drunk. Sylus is a touchy drunk…

It’s too good to pass up on

“Alright, boys,” you hum, an excited grin slowly spreading across your lips. You clap both of them gently on the shoulder. “I’ll take it from here. You can go hide wherever you usually do.”

“Thank you, Miss.”

“We knew calling you was the right decision. Please take care of our boss.”

“I’ll do my best.”

The twins skitter off as soon as you let them go, leaving you alone in the foyer. You quietly slip your coat off, hanging it up properly before making your way further into the base. Not knowing exactly where Sylus could be, you check all the obvious places. The bar. His bedroom. The kitchen. All of which are empty.

Finally you come to the den. Each step makes your heart race a little quicker, the thick silence putting you on edge. A drunk person shouldn’t be so hard to find. But as you step into the room, looking over every nook and cranny (despite how large the man in question is), you once again find it empty.

Where on earth could he be?

“My, my, a kitten’s wandered into my home.” You nearly jump out of your skin when an arm curls around your waist, drawing you back against a solid chest. The familiar warmth of his touch is like a balm to your nerves. You glance over your shoulder, gaze meeting a pair of sleepy vermillion eyes, their depths hazy and dark. “You broke our agreement, sweetie.”

You bite back a smile, “Maybe I wouldn’t have had to if a certain someone hadn’t gotten tipsy and scared the boys.”

Sylus huffs, his face dipping to nuzzle into the crook of your neck in an uncharacteristically soft show of affection. His breath is dizzyingly warm against your skin, his nose tracing featherlight along the column of your throat, like he’s breathing you in. It makes you feel dizzy. You clutch onto his arm to anchor yourself, breath hitching when his lips press tenderly against your racing pulse.

“I’ve missed you.”

The words are a mere whisper, the sound rumbling through his chest, so deep you can feel it with how his body leans into yours. You let out a shuddering breath, eyes flickering shut.

“I missed you too, Sy.”

So much. You didn’t want to admit to yourself just how much his absence had been wearing you down. Little by little until you could feel the gaping emptiness, like a stream carving a canyon. You were homesick. And it makes your heart flutter to know he felt the same.

“How about we sit, huh?” You suggest softly, and his arms tighten. Turning your head, despite the awkward angle, you press a reassuring kiss to his silvery locks, “I’m not going anywhere, love. I can’t support your weight much longer, though.”

Seemingly appeased, Sylus lets out an understanding hum. In a puff of black smoke, you find yourself settled on the couch, your back pressed into the soft leather with Sylus laying on top of you, his arms still curled around your waist, head resting on your chest. He nuzzles into you like a cat, letting out a long, drawn out sigh.

It’s adorable really. And jarring. While Sylus has never shied away from being affectionate, it’s always been in his rough, teasing way. This feels tender. Vulnerable. While you were originally planning to tease him to no end, you find yourself overwhelmed with a gentle kind of adoration for the man, your fingers softly fussing with his hair.

“You know, I think I like this side of you.”

“Hmmm, is that so?” Sylus mumbles sleepily, his eyes barely open as he gazes up at your face.

“Yah,” you breathe, tracing the relaxed line of his brow, fingers skimming down his cheek to brush the corner of his lips, “You’re acting so cute and docile. Maybe I should start calling you kitten.”

Even sleepy Sylus won’t let that stand. The second your fingers graze his lips, he nips at them, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you snatch them back, inhaling sharply. Heat curls in your chest, matching the heat burning behind his gaze as he flashes you that lazy yet dangerous smile.

“Don’t mistake my affection for passivity, sweetie,” he rumbles, pushing himself up just enough to graze his lips against yours, the smell of expensive alcohol and his rich cologne clouding your senses. “You should be more wary of a man when his restraints are loose. There’s no telling what he might do once you fall for his trap.”

Ah. You hold back a giggle, eyes narrowing up at him with mirth. So that’s what this was all about.

“Trap, huh? Is that what this was? Did you get tipsy and scare the twins on purpose so they’d call me?”

Sylus doesn’t look ashamed for even a second, offering a nonchalant shrug. The way his ears go red, though, tells you that you’ve hit the nail on the head.

“Aw, you did all that just cause you missed me?” Reaching up, you loop your arms around Sylus’ shoulders and draw him even closer. Your lips brush his as you murmur, “You could have just called, pretty bird.”

“And what fun would that be?” Sylus tilts his head, eyes flickering down to your lips.

He wants to kiss you breathless, the sensation of your lips ghosting against his driving his already muddled thoughts wild. The way you look under him, hair a mess, dressed in such cute pajamas, is a perfectly tempting image, but it’s the fact that he can’t quite think straight that makes him hold back. While getting drunk was certainly a good way to get you here, it was not conducive to anything else he might want.

And simply having you by his side is enough.

You sigh as Sylus presses a sweet kiss to your lips. Unlike most of your kisses, this one isn’t about passion or hunger. Intense, yes, but intense in a way that feels like devotion. It’s reverent and slow, leaving a lingering hum under your skin as he draws away.

“Will you stay?”

Fondly, you rub your nose against his ever so slightly, “Of course.”

“Good.”

Sylus lowers himself back into you, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck. Your arms loop around him, fingers going back to his hair. The silence that envelops you is comforting, the only sound being that of your mingled breath. His warmth covers you so completely, you can’t help but relax, eyelids growing heavier with each second that ticks by. Sylus’ breathing steadily grows deeper, lulling you further and further into sleep. Until you slip under, your lips pressed to his temple as you fall asleep.

And that’s how Luke and Kieran find you the next morning. Cuddled up, with their boss curled around you protectively, like two lounging cats.

You wake up to a notification on your phone.

The picture immediately becomes your new background.

(And secretly, Sylus also makes it his, too.)

---

Hope you enjoyed, my lovely fishies!!!

#lads sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus x reader #sylus x you #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #reader insert #x reader #love and deepspace reader insert #love and deepspace #luke and kieran #fluffy ending #fluff #lads x reader #lads x you #drunk sylus #clingy sylus #i looooove this man and I am so soft for him

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reignpage · 4 months ago

Text

Movie Night

Summary: in which alien!reader asks Gojo to teach her a little something Word Count: 1.8k Warnings: smut, not proofread

Day 7

“What’s wrong, E?”

All fresh from a shower, you and Satoru are sitting on the sofa, watching a movie. He’s finally bought you your own clothes and you’re dressed in a warm jumper and cosy pants. Satoru won’t lie; he’s grieving the pleasure of seeing you drown in his clothes. But you were ecstatic at the sight of the space themed pjs and so he was left with nothing to do but be happy.

Wrapped under a thick blanket, you’re huddled by his side, clutching his shirt. As with every movie, every night, you ask questions, and he answers as best as he can. He’s insanely grateful that you can understand him when he explains things like what a car is (a moving vehicle) or who Gordon Ramsey is (a famous chef known for being very wrinkly and very angry). It seems that your biggest issue, however, is stringing a full sentence together.

You’ve been getting much better, accelerating at a rate no human could manage. It’s both impressive and terrifying.

Right now, you’re tilting your head at a particular scene. Satoru forgot the plot of the movie and he really regrets not keeping an eye out for the age rating, because on the screen plays a steamy, kiss scene.

In fact, ‘kiss’ isn’t even the right word; they’re making out.

How you both managed to last a week of doing nothing but watch movies without coming across a kiss scene he’ll never know. But the moment’s finally arrived and he is not any more prepared than he was on the first night.

He winces at the sound of lips smacking against each other, a blush on his cheeks. A kiss is nothing -- he’s done far more than that, and multiple times. But, for some reason, he’s feeling a little shy. It might have something to do with the fact that you’re staring up at him with your big, curious eyes.

“What they doing?” You ask.

Satoru gulps. He’s become painfully aware of how close you are — his arm is trapped between your breasts, just a thin layer separating him from your soft flesh, and, under the blanket, your leg is strung ever so slightly over his thigh. He can smell his shampoo emanating from you with something sweet coursing just under that masculine scent.

Chuckling uncomfortably, he explains, “They’re kissing.”

“Why?”

He has half a mind to turn the TV off and declare an earlier bedtime, but you look so innocent he feels bad that he was thinking of something indecent. He’s your friend. He can’t prey on you and take advantage of your reliance on him. Plus, how would a kiss between two people from different intergalactic species even work?

Would it be the same? Or does it lead to pregnancy straight away? What if you lay eggs in his mouth? What if he lays eggs in your mouth?

Composing himself, he searches for the right words. “It’s something people do to express their love for each other, I guess. Well, not all the time, actually. Sometimes it’s just for pleasure.”

“Pleasure?”

Why, oh, why did you have to focus on that one word?

And why on everything that is good in this world is this scene so long?

“It means to feel good.”

The hand clutching his shirt flattens out until it’s feeling the hard planes of his chest and absorbing the vibrations of his heartbeat. You drum your fingers at the same pace, smiling softly. The heat of your hand, of your entire body, is setting his skin alight. Suddenly, it’s too hot under the blanket, there isn’t enough room or air, and he needs to go but he can’t bear to.

Batting your lashes, you inquire, “How to make pleasure, Toru? How kiss feel good?”

Brushing a lock of hair behind your ear, he corrects you, “It’s, ‘how does kissing make you feel good,' E. Try again for me?”

You taste the words, lips stretching to practice the movement before you parrot back almost perfectly, “Tell me how kissing makes you feel good, Toru.”

Oh, fuck.

Why did he make you repeat it in perfect Japanese? Why did he have to use this very moment as a learning opportunity?

Curse his natural teaching instincts!

He’s about to shrug you off, using sleepiness as an excuse to retreat, but then you’re leaning even closer, licking your lips and eyeing his. Warmth is spreading through his body, circulating in one particular area and he’s hoping you don’t move your leg any higher otherwise this will turn into a completely different conversation and he’s not certain he could survive giving you an anatomy lesson without getting a nosebleed.

Licking his own lips, he grazes your cheek with his fingers. The skin he touches glows the very faintest hint of blue. He’s reeling. Up till now, he thought that your skin glows only when you’re sleeping, but apparently you also glow when you’re being touched. But this isn’t the first time he’s touched you.

Was it because before he was trying very, very hard not to stare?

He doesn’t know, and regardless, he can’t stop touching you. Satoru presses on your adorable cheeks to watch it light up, the way his is flushing red. Whispering, he asserts, “I can’t tell you how kissing feels, E.”

Your hand presses harder against his chest, fingers splaying across the expanse. Subconsciously, he juts it out just a little. And with the most seductive voice, you demand, “Show me then, Toru. Make me feel good?”

Oh, and when you ask like that, how could anyone ever resist you?

There’s a tantalising closeness between you, just a hairsbreadth away from touching. When he finally closes that minuscule gap, a purr like thrum echoes through you. He kisses you, sweet and gentle, simply pressing his lips against yours. There’s nothing human about this, not with the invigorating taste of you, the scalding feel of your skin, and impossible softness of your body on his.

“This is a kiss?” You mumble.

Chuckling, he says, “No, E. This is.”

With one hand holding the back of your neck, he sucks your bottom lip, unable to help himself from deepening the kiss. You gasp into his mouth, and he dives his tongue in, meeting yours. He knows he should slow down, should let you adjust to a friendly peck before he takes more than you can give, but you taste so good and it’s like he’s drunk.

There’s a force, a gravitational pull drawing him in. He can’t resist it, can’t fight it, he isn’t even trying.

You pull back in shock.

Satoru chases after you, dragging you back in. He kisses you again. Groaning into your mouth, he slides a hand down to your leg, rising up your thigh. You jolt, a shiver running through your body. That electrifying purring hums in the air again and he’s smiling, hand rising and rising until he’s curving against your ass and carrying you over his thighs.

“This feels... I feel...,” you whimper, at a loss for words.

Squeezing your thighs, he coos, “It’s alright, sweet thing. I’ve got you. You wanted to learn pleasure, right? Who better to teach you than Toru, hmm?”

You shiver again when he whispers that against your neck, nose skimming your jaw and lips curling. He’s inhaling deeply, eyes fluttering close at the weight of your body pressing down on him and your addictive scent.

He can’t tell if this is all you or if it’s an alien thing, but he doesn’t care. Not in this moment, not when your hips are churning as he sucks at your neck, laying burning kisses against your skin, and watching the blue light dance under your skin.

“Oh, E,” he sighs. “Are you grinding on me, baby? You want more than just a kiss, is that it? My greedy, greedy girl.”

When your clothed core rubs just right against his throbbing length, you throw your head back, that purring noise a hiss and it vibrates against his cheek as he listens to your rapid heartbeat. He can feel how wet you are; you’re soaking through your panties and pyjama bottoms.

Satoru’s growing dizzy.

One hand guides your hips to gyrate on him whilst the other clutches your throat to pull your lips back to his. Satoru knows he should stop now that he’s already taught you what you asked for, but he can’t. He just can’t. The thrill of going further, of testing your, and his, limits is too much for one man to resist. Even if that man is the strongest sorcerer in the world, even if not a whole gaggle of curses could pose a threat to him.

“Toru!”

He thrusts upwards at the same time he tugs you down and the elongated moan that leaves you, hips stuttering and hands frantically searching for purchase on his broad shoulders, leaves him feeling lightheaded. “That’s it, E. Take what you need.”

Your eyes are flashing blue, a darker hue than his own, and he’s amazed. Everything about you is incredible, like you were created to be his temptation, to be his undoing. Whether aliens have souls or not, he doesn’t know, but he does know, that if you did, his and yours would be the same, all blue and perfect.

Laughing, he leans back, hands simply resting on your thighs as you ride out your orgasm, shocked eyes pleading for explanation, for reason but finding none in his. That purring gets louder and louder, the vibrations stronger now and they’re flowing straight from your soaked pussy and right onto his cock.

“Oh shit!” Satoru groans, nails digging suddenly. Within seconds, he’s cumming in his boxers, hot cream flooding his underwear from inside at the same time your wetness seeps through on top. “Jesus, E! That’s fucking intense, what the hell.”

He’s panting, eyes shut tightly as he keeps grinding your hips onto his cock.

You slump onto him just as he falls back. You’re completely depleted of energy, and he knows exactly what you’re feeling. Rubbing your back, he presses a kiss to your hair, muttering ‘well done’ and ‘good job’.

“How was that for pleasure?”

Smacking his chest, you mumble a complaint. “Toru mean.”

He laughs agains.

“Sorry, E. You were just too cute.”

You raise your head, eyes bleary and fluttering shut. You meet his gaze, shaky fingers reaching for his lips and tracing them, all sore and pink, like you’re amazed at him the way he is at you. “Thank you. Kissing is nice.”

“We did a little more than just kissing, E. But sure, you’re welcome,” he chuckles.

Eventually, you both fall asleep in each other��s arms right there on the sofa, ‘Are You Still Watching’ filling the TV screen and not the movie he can’t even remember the name of, drying cum posing a problem he’ll have to deal with in the morning.

He dreams of sapphire streaks in the air, of giant balls of fire, and an angel descending with its arms outstretched. And he hopes he never wakes up.

#jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk fic #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo fluff #gojo fic #gojo smut #jjk smut

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act-nat-ural · 6 months ago

Text

The training gym was quiet, save for the soft shuffle of weights being moved and the clink of metal on metal. Ushijima Wakatoshi, one of the top volleyball players in Japan, stood in his usual spot by the weights, focused and unbothered by the few people around. But today, his gaze kept drifting to the other side of the gym, where you sat, scribbling on your clipboard.

You were his team’s nutritionist, a dedicated professional who made sure each player was at their peak, fueled by carefully balanced diets and supplements. When you first joined the team, Ushijima saw you as just another staff member, albeit a knowledgeable one who knew her work. But as weeks turned into months, he found himself looking forward to your sessions, trying to pick up more conversations here and there. For a man who often kept to himself, that was something new.

“Ushijima,” your voice broke through his thoughts, and he quickly blinked, hoping his face didn’t betray the fact he’d been staring. You approached him, clipboard in hand, with that gentle smile you always wore.

“Your new meal plan,” you said, handing over the clipboard. He took it, careful not to brush your fingers, even though part of him almost wanted to. “I added more protein for recovery, but we’ll balance it out with lighter carbs on rest days to keep your energy consistent.”

He nodded, studying the paper in his hands. You were thorough, down to the gram. He admired that about you, the way you always seemed to care about every small detail.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice as steady as ever. Though he could command a volleyball court with his booming spikes, words like this made him feel less sure of himself. “You’re very…good at this.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by his comment. “I’d hope so. I spent years in school to do exactly this.”

He found himself mirroring your smile, however faintly, and his heart raced at the way your eyes lit up. The usual seriousness in him softened whenever you were around, a fact he hadn’t yet worked out how to handle. He thought about what his teammates would say if they knew the Ushijima Wakatoshi was nervous around someone.

“Do you have a favorite food?” he asked suddenly, the question slipping out before he had a chance to think.

Your eyes widened slightly. “Me? Oh, um… probably curry. Why?”

“I wanted to know,” he answered simply. “It’s… good to know what my nutritionist likes to eat.”

A laugh bubbled out of you, a soft sound that made him feel a strange warmth. “Well, thanks, I suppose. Maybe one day, you’ll let me cook for you.”

He blinked. “You would cook for me?”

“Why not? I mean, I’m already telling you what to eat,” you teased, giving his shoulder a playful nudge. “Might as well let you taste the real thing.”

He looked down at you, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly. “I… would like that.”

It was a simple answer, yet it felt like the beginning of something much more. He watched as you smiled, returning to your notes with that same focus, and he silently resolved to make that day come sooner than later.

As you walked away, Ushijima couldn’t help but think, for once, he had something more exciting than volleyball waiting for him.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #wakatoshi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader

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moonstruckme · 2 months ago

Note

i don’t know if ur taking request right now, but I love ur writing so much!! I was wondering if you could do something with poly!marauders x reader? Where reader gives blood for the first time and the marauders either work there (maybe emt!marauders?) or are just there with her and reader is almost finish when she says that she isn’t feeling well and she almost passes out?? 👀 and then they all panic and comfort her??

Thanks for requesting angel!

cw: mention of blood, needle, basically everything you'd expect at a blood donation clinic + nausea and fainting

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

“First time?” Sirius asks as he ties a rubber tourniquet around your arm.

You blink, looking away from the rows of chairs laid out beside you and back to him. “Sorry?”

“Is this your first time donating?”

“Oh. Yeah. How did you know?”

Sirius—he told you to call him Sirius when you sat down, though at first you thought he meant the word serious—grins at you. He has dark hair tied in a messy yet startlingly chic chignon at the back of his head, his face seems chiseled from marble, and he’s one of the few people working the clinic today in paramedic uniforms instead of nurse’s scrubs. His attractiveness intimidates you, but his demeanor sets you at ease; it’s a real trial for your nervous system altogether.

“You look a bit nervy,” he says.

“I don’t know why I am,” you laugh, nervously. “I’m not squeamish or anything, I just…haven’t done this before.”

“That’s perfectly alright. A lot of first-timers are a bit antsy.” Sirius’ gloved finger begins prodding at the crook of your elbow, but his eyes are on you. “Get comfortable, darling. You’ll be grand.”

You aren’t sure how, exactly, to get comfortable, but you try to settle into the plasticky chair. Sirius’ cheek apples like he appreciates the effort. He looks down at your arm. It feels oddly vulnerable, like he’s staring at the softest, most delicate part of you. You try not to think about it.

“Alright, here we are.” He grabs his supplies from the table beside him, gaze flickering to you again. “You want to close your eyes, sweetness? I know you’ve said you’re not squeamish, but just in case.”

You close your eyes, thinking that you’re more likely to anxiously vomit from him calling you sweetness than anything else.

“Perfect. Okay, you might feel a little poke.”

It is little, so little you barely feel it at all, but that doesn’t keep your stomach from hopping up into your throat. You take in a breath through your nose.

“Doing alright?”

“Mhm. Sorry, yeah.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, gorgeous. Just let me know if you start to feel funny or anything.”

Funny might describe the state of your head right now. Sounds seem to fade in and out, your focus slipping. You feel sure Sirius can see the sweat beading on your upper lip.

But you stick it out, breathe steadily in and out your nose, and soon Sirius is telling you, You’re doing beautifully. Almost done.

Unfortunately, the next breath in comes with a rush of nausea. You feel like you should tell him.

“Um,” you mumble, eyes still closed.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not…feeling…”

The last couple of words get all tangled up in your tongue on their way out.

“Hey. Hey, babe, you okay? Can you open your eyes for me?”

You try. It’s like looking through fuzz.

“James!”

You want to pick your head up and see what’s turned Sirius’ voice so urgent all of a sudden, but you don’t have the strength.

“Here she comes. You’re alright, love.”

You make a small, humiliating sound as you rouse, made all the more humiliating by the way the voice shushes you gently. You remember where you are instantly, and wonder why you’re lying flat on your back on cool tile rather than sitting in the chair.

The shushing voice isn’t Sirius’, either.

“Can you open your eyes, please?” it asks.

You do, somewhat reluctantly, subjecting your corneas to cruel fluorescent lights and the stare of the man above you. It’s a rather kind stare, really. Hardly fair to say you’re being subjected to it.

“Hi there,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

“Hi.” You look down your body, to where another man is sitting cross-legged on the floor, holding both of your ankles on his shoulder. “I’m…okay. What…?”

“You’re at the blood donation clinic,” the first one tells you. “You fainted.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

The man at your feet laughs. “That’s alright, babe. All in a day’s work, you know.”

Not long ago, you remember feeling like all the blood was draining from your body. Now, you’re quite sure it’s returning to your face with vigor.

“How long was I out?”

“Not long,” the man by your head reassures you. “We only just managed to get you lying down when—”

“Oh, good!” Sirius startles you, coming up from behind your head without warning. “You gave me a fright, gorgeous. I did tell you to say if you started feeling funny, didn’t I? I thought we had a repartee. How are you feeling now? Is Remus taking good care of you?”

You blink. It appears your brain is still functioning at somewhat less than peak performance, and you struggle to keep up with all his questions. “I’m fine. I…I did try to say…”

“It’s not your fault, love,” Remus says, covering the top of your head almost protectively with his hand. He gives Sirius a dry look. “We’re supposed to ask beforehand if you have a history of fainting.”

“There’s no history to be had!” Sirius defends himself. “It’s her first time. Luckily, I have catlike reflexes in terms of sounding the alarm, and James was quick enough to catch her before she toppled out of the chair.”

“Oh, first time.” The one who must be James gives you a sympathetic look. His thumb rubs over your ankle bone as though to comfort you. “I hope this hasn’t spoiled it for you, lovely. I’m sure it’s scary.”

This doesn’t feel like the sort of thing you’re meant to reply to, but when both Remus and Sirius look at you with similar pitying expressions, you squeeze out a meek, “I’m okay.”

“We’ll try to make sure you leave without too awful of an impression.” Sirius grins at you, squatting by your side. “We’re just gonna take it nice and slow, babe. How about sitting up to have a drink?”

When you nod, Remus slips a hand behind your back, supporting you upright. James sets your legs down as he does.

“Alright, any preferences?” Sirius begins lining up plastic bottles on the floor beside you. “Our bar is stocked with apple, orange, and grape juice and water.”

“Ooh, he must really like you,” says James. “Normally he hoards the grape juice for himself.”

Sirius shoots his friend a nasty look, but he doesn’t deny it.

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sknyuz · 28 days ago

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heavy lifting (preview) | k.m.g.

synopsis: you're struggling to get out of a bad academic slump, feeling overwhelmed by the constant pressure of grades and the inability to focus. after a few failed attempts to get motivated, you decide to do something different—start going to the gym. at first, it’s just about getting out of the house, but that all changes when mingyu, the gym’s resident greek god, notices you. no amount of reps or cardio can compare to how fast your heart races every time you cross paths, and it becomes impossible to ignore a six-foot tall kim mingyu.

genre: college au, romance, smut (markers for start and end if you wanna skip), fluff, slice-of-life, slow-burn, gymrat!mingyu

pairing: mingyu x reader (ft. dino and riize wonbin)

warnings: slightly awkward moments, gym-related humor, slow-burn, soft smut, heavy flirting, making out with random ppl at a party, alcohol consumption, y/n is an absolute LOSERRRRR, profanity of course, mentions of body image (positive)

wc: preview: ~650, full fic ~10k(ish)

a/n: posting this fic within this week !! let me know if you'd like to be part of a taglist. comment or reblog this post ^^ this is my first, full-length fic on here. full fic to be posted: 4/22

full fic posted here!

* don’t hesitate to send an ask to request a specific member or prompt !!

preview:

you’ve always been the kind of person who hides behind books. your friends—well, they say you’re “flustered” a lot, but you know it’s just because you don’t really know how to deal with people. academics are your thing. people? not so much. you can hold small talk and even long conversations, but that doesn't mean you enjoy them. that’s why when the stress of midterms and the constant pressure of getting everything perfect starts to pile up, you find yourself stuck in a cycle of studying without getting anywhere.

jeonghan, your roommate, always tells you to “take a break” when he finds you buried under a pile of textbooks, but you ignore him. while your dorm neighbor, seungkwan, who’s become your unofficial therapist, insists that maybe a change of scenery might help, but you brush it off. you don’t know what’s worse—failing or the thought of being the one who’s not keeping up with the others.

that’s when you decide to take a leap. you’re not sure if it’s just the idea of doing something different, or the fact that every other option has failed, but you sign up for the gym. you’re not sure what you’re expecting—just that you need to shake things up.

the first day is terrible. you’re awkwardly trying to figure out how machines work, watching everyone around you who seems like they know what they’re doing, while you’re stuck on a treadmill wondering if you’re supposed to be running or walking faster.

that’s when he notices you.

mingyu.

he’s not hard to spot—tall, broad-shouldered, a greek god in a compression shirt, with muscles you can’t even begin to fathom. you try not to stare, but your eyes can’t help it. he’s on the other side of the room, lifting weights with ease, his form flawless. you can’t even imagine having a fraction of that confidence. you turn back to your treadmill, your face flushed as you try to focus on not tripping over yourself.

but then, out of nowhere, he’s right there in front of you.

“hey, are you new here?” his voice is so casual, but your heart skips a beat at the sound of it. “first time at the gym?”

you freeze, where the fuck did he come from?

pretty hard not to spot a giant like kim mingyu walking towards you, y/n.

without thinking, you mumble, “oh shit—” and immediately stumble forward. you try to catch yourself but end up tripping over your own feet, your hands flailing to find balance.

“whoa!” mingyu’s quick reflexes kick in, and before you know it, he’s right there, steadying you with one hand on your shoulder. “you okay?” he asks, voice tinged with concern, but there’s a hint of amusement in his smile.

you gulp, heart racing. “i—yeah. i just—uh, didn’t see you coming.” you let out a pathetic laugh, heat flooding your cheeks.

mingyu chuckles, his laugh deep and warm. “i kind of figured. you look like you’re on the verge of a wipeout.”

you can’t help but give a lopsided smile, despite your embarrassment. “thanks… i guess,” you mutter, still trying to regain your composure.

“don’t worry about it,” he says with a friendly smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “you’re still alive, so that’s a win in my book.”

and just like that, mingyu’s gone, back to his workout as if he hadn’t just saved you from making a fool of yourself in front of everyone.

for the next few days, mingyu’s presence haunts the gym. you see him everywhere—lifting weights, chatting with people, giving advice, being… well, perfect. and all you can do is watch from the sidelines, still too embarrassed to approach him, but also unable to tear your eyes away.

there’s something so confident about him, so effortlessly kind, and you begin to notice the way he always looks out for people. he’s just a regular guy, right? except he’s mingyu, and somehow, he makes everything look effortless.

oooh, and those. arms.

and you? well, you’re still stumbling through the basics. and you learned pretty early on that no amount of cardio can beat your heartrate every time your gaze catches a sight of kim mingyu.

a/n: the next part would be roommate jeonghan shenanigans but i guess we'd have to wait to read more !! again, taglist is open for this one—super excited to release my first full-length fic !!! would appreciate the support and love like y'all have given my cb one-shot for wonwoo ^^

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buckyys-babydoll · 6 days ago

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Whenever, wherever

Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes who’s carrying your meds for you, so you can never forget them anywhere.

“Babydoll?” Bucky’s voice comes from next to you as you stand between a few people to get your coffee. Your fingers are interlaced with his as you start to tap your fingers against his hand. He noticed, immediately — he always does. “Hey, do you need a break?”

Of course, he could offer your meds immediately to you, but he doesn’t do it. If you need them, you will tell him. And you both have talked a lot about it before — no meds unless it has to be.

When Bucky first tugged them into his pocket to take them with to the restaurant you went for dinner, you looked at him with narrowed eyes. You didn’t need them, so why would he carry them around?

“If you need them, they will be there. Wherever. Whenever,” he said before he kissed your forehead. And somehow it gives you a sense of peace to know he’s taking such sweet and good care of you — you will never be alone with your thoughts, he will never leave you hanging.

“Precious?” He asks again, bringing two of his thick fingers underneath your chin to turn your face to look at him. Bucky smiles softly, his blue orbs bright like the sun while a few loose strands fall into his face. “Do you need a break?”

You shake your head, leaning into his hand as he moves it from your chin to stroke softly over your cheek. He leans closer to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Can you answer me with words, please? I need you to say it, otherwise we are going to get out of here for a moment,” he mumbles against your soft skin before pecking your forehead again.

“I’m fine, Buck,” you assure him and lean your head against his chest. You listen to his steady heartbeat, sighing softly. Bucky smiles softly, his chin resting on top of your head as he runs his fingers up and down your back. “Too excited for the hot chocolate to go outside. Only to stand at the end this—“

You motion to the people standing in front and before you to get something from the coffee shop. Bucky chuckles softly but he can also feel your fingers tightening around him — a habit that you clench and unclench your fingers when you’re nervous.

“Close your eyes,” he whispers and you instinctively do as he says. Bucky chuckles before he looks around, taking in the different sounds to try and focus on one. “Listen closely. Can you hear the birds singing outside?”

You try to listen carefully, trying to filter the noises of the birds. Slowly, the voices of the other people and the business of the small shop fades into the background as you can focus more clearly on the birds outside.

It’s like they have their own little concert with one another and you smile softly.

“I can. They perform for their bird concert,” you say with a smile while you keep listening to them. Bucky laughs softly, agreeing as he keeps a close eye on you. “Thank you.”

“Whenever.”

“Wherever,” you finish his sentence. Two words. But they have a meaning deeper than any other.

Whenever. Wherever. It’s not just to let you know that he will always carry your meds with you, but also for you to know that he will always be by your side.

“I love you, Buck. Not just for carrying my meds. But also for that. It really helps me to stay more calm, knowing I can always reach them,” you say, resting your chin against his firm chest to look up at him. “And for calming me down. And I love you, because you’re who you are — perfect.”

Bucky laughs, pecking your lips. “I love you too, babydoll. And I gladly do it if it means to get to see that pretty smile on your face, because that’s what keeps me going – you and your cute, pretty smile.”

Request made by an anon on my old account. Divider made by me. I do not allow anyone to copy my work!

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tartarusknight · 2 months ago

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Based on this tik tok

Famous Eddie AU, where he's known for going out into the crowds during performances. It has led to a few security risks and freaks out his manager, Chrissy. So, when they get to the next venue, Chrissy goes up to the security crew and tells them about Eddie and that nothing but brute force would stop Eddie. Because Eddie always says that he needs to be in the heart of it to show that he loves his fans as much as they love him.

The venue manager, Robin, tells them they have it covered because she has a secret weapon. That secret weapon is Steve, who dresses up like he's just a fan, but everyone knows his face well enough that they will see him and know better than stop him from saving Eddie.

The only thing they don't take into account is Eddie in between two songs, singling him out. "We alright?" Eddie asks, and Steve freezes before dumbly nodding. The people around him are staring. "You're good?" Eddie asks again, a growing smile on his face. He tilts his head all cutely, and Steve forces himself to stay formal with another nod. "You're like an important security guy, though," Eddie says, looking at the other security man whose shirt obviously says staff. Unlike Steve's own plain outfit.

"What's going on? You're like CIA in the middle of the whole crowd." The crowd laughs, and Steve can feel his face heat. "You sent him out there undercover! This is weird!" Eddie cackles, looking towards the other staff member who is now trying to keep it all under control.

"So are you coming out or are you staying?" Eddie asks, and he crouches down by the edge of the stage.

Steve raises an eyebrow. "Are you coming out?"

Eddie sighs with a shrug, "I am going to come out into the crowd at some point in this song." He admits, and Steve can't help but grin as the crowd erupts into cheers. "And that's why you're there?" Eddie asks and laughs slightly as he says, "You're doing too much." The other members of Corroded Coffin are laughing now. "I'll be careful, I promise," Eddie says, like he can control the entire crowd.

He cocks his hip as Eddie goes on, "who's going to beat me up when I come out there." The crowd cheers, and they all raise their hands. Steve's sure it's a joke, but it has him straightening up despite that. Soon enough, Eddie's giving the crowd instructions along with Steve to part and make a pathway towards Steve when Eddie starts making his way into the crowd during the song. It puts Steve on edge to go far from the stage, but he lets himself be corralled into it by the fans.

Eddie grins at Steve, "And I want you to stay right where I put you. And I'm gonna point right at you, and you're gonna be my security. But you're not gonna be man, cause you're gonna go fucking hard with me for that whole rest of the song, okay?" Eddie smiles, a dimple showing, and Steve just dumbly nods.

The band starts up and Eddie rocks around the stage. Steve watches him with rapt attention, his own fondness for the band's sound growing. Until Eddie points at him and walks off the stage into the crowd. Steve jerks forwards but stops when the crowd actually parts. Eddie appears easily in Steve's view and the singer's finger points him out.

He begins to wave Steve forward and Steve's hesitant. Hesitant enough that Eddie, during a small break of lyrics, grins at Steve, "Come to me papa." Someone in the crowd shoves Steve forwards and he moves towards the singer who dances over to him. Fans are reaching out to brush Eddie as he passes, but no one is grabbing and pulling.

And suddenly Eddie's there, and he's pulling Steve to dance with him. Steve wants to shake it off and tell him his job is literally just to protect him, but Eddie's smile is wide, and Steve can't help it. He bounces along, following Eddie's lead in the middle of the crowd. Eddie's hand grazes his chest and Steve knows Robin is going to give him so much shit, but he doesn't care. How can he when Eddie's focus is on him, and he's just dancing the crowd dancing with them?

Then the song slows ,and Eddie reaches out, running a hand on Steve's cheek. The crowd roars and Steve takes a step back but Eddie gently, not forcefully stops him. "Don't go anywhere." He says and Steve nods on instinct. Eddie's grin brightens, "Catch me," he orders and Steve tenses up.

"Wait-"

But Eddie's singing, looking back at his band. The song begins to pick speed back up. Then the drums are clashing and it hit a crescendo. Eddie's arms shoot up, and he looks at Steve before running and jumping towards him. Steve stumbles slight but manages to hold onto him. Lifting him up above the crowd. Eddie laughs and squirms until Steve places him down.

He's even pretty up close, and Eddie moves to place a kiss on Steve's lips before he's dancing back towards the stage as the next song starts up. The roar of the crowd makes Steve wish he was deaf, and he knows his face is bright red. As Eddie gets to the stage and lifts himself to sit on the edge, he looks right back to Steve and does the phone motion with his hand that has fans shaking Steve in excitement like they are happy for him.

#As the show is over Steve goes to the back and Robin is quick to call him easy #Steve says it's just cause Robin's a lesbian that she's safe from Eddie's charm #Steve misses Eddie leaving but Robin says that their manager gave Robin her number #They all go on a double date and it's just as chaotic as the concert #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #knightly talks #platonic stobin #robin buckley

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vibelladonna · 2 months ago

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✑ 𝓃𝓊𝓂𝒷 𝜗𝜚 𝓉𝓀𝒶𝓉𝒷 𝓂𝑒𝓃

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Some people fall apart quietly. You were one of them. The weight of existence had always been relentless, pressing down on you like an unseen force no one else could feel.

A lifetime of existential crises, quiet detachment, and numbness that never truly faded—it all led you here. To your quiet space, where the world was silent, where you could exist without pretense, without expectation. But solitude was never yours to keep.

Not when they noticed.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions.

soooo, Is it bad to turn to my "middle school” playlist just to feel something? I’ve been staying positive and relaxing on spring break; I need to be in my feelings when writing stuff like this. T-T

[ 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ]

✑ 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

Jericho has a way with words to make you feel better.

You sat in the deepest part of the library, a place so tucked away that even the dust seemed undisturbed. It was quiet—too quiet, maybe—but that was the point. No one came here.

No one except, apparently, Crowe.

"You're only here out of pity."

You didn’t bother looking up when you said it. You didn’t need to. The sound of his footsteps had already told you it was him before he even spoke.

There was a beat of silence. Then a soft exhale as Crowe dropped into the seat across from you, the chair creaking slightly under his weight. You knew that exhale—it was the same one he let out whenever he was frustrated but trying not to show it.

"You’ve been avoiding me." His voice was steady, but there was an edge underneath.

"I’ve been busy."

He let out a short, humorless laugh. "That’s bullshit, and we both know it."

You clenched your jaw. You didn’t need this right now. You didn’t need him looking at you like that—like he saw right through you.

Crowe leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. His eyes, usually so unreadable, had that sharp focus he got when he was putting the pieces together.

"You stopped showing up to class. You dropped out of clubs without telling anyone. I damn near had to get our friends to track you down, because no one knew where the hell you were."

You flinched, just barely. So he had noticed. Of course, he had.

“Thier, not my friends—I don’t see why you care so much." You finally looked at him, your expression blank. "You don’t have to play the role of the concerned friend, Crowe. You can go back to your life now. I’ll be fine."

His jaw tightened, and for a second, you thought he was going to snap at you. But instead, he just ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "That’s what pisses me off," he muttered.

"What?"

"You think I’m here out of pity."

You scoffed. "Tell me I’m wrong, then."

Crowe’s fingers tapped against the table—a small habit of his when he was thinking, calculating. Then, without warning, he reached forward and grabbed your wrist. His touch was gentle but firm, his thumb brushing over the edge of your sleeve where the fabric was just slightly worn from being pulled down one too many times.

"I don’t do pity," he said quietly. "I don’t waste my time on people I don’t give a shit about. And I sure as hell wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care."

His grip wasn’t tight.

You could pull away if you wanted to.

But you didn’t.

"You keep pushing people away," he continued, his voice softer now, almost tired. "But I’m not going anywhere, no matter how much you try to make me."

Something in your chest ached at his words, but you shoved it down, deep where it couldn’t touch you. You didn’t want to believe him. Because if you did—if you let yourself think, even for a second, that someone actually cared—what would happen when he eventually got tired of you? When he realized you weren’t worth the effort?

You swallowed, forcing your voice to stay even.

"You’re wasting your time, Crowe."

He studied you for a long moment, then let go of your wrist, leaning back in his chair.

"Maybe," he said simply. "But that’s my choice, isn’t it?"

The worst part? He said it like he meant it.

Crowe didn’t move from his seat, didn’t take his eyes off you. He let his words settle between you, filling the heavy silence. You hated it—hated the way he just sat there, like he wasn’t going to leave no matter how much you wanted him to.

Or maybe, deep down, you hated that part of you didn’t want him to leave at all.

He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face before leaning forward again, arms resting on the table. His voice softened. "You really think that little of yourself, don’t you?"

You opened your mouth to argue—to throw back some cold, dismissive remark that would push him away—but you hesitated. Something about the way he said it, like it wasn’t an accusation but just… sad, made your throat tighten.

Crowe didn’t wait for an answer. He just shook his head, like he was trying to figure out how the hell to get through to you.

"You act like you're nothing, like people only keep you around because they feel sorry for you. But that’s bullshit. You’re the smartest person I know, and not just in that textbook way—you're sharp. You see things other people don’t. And you're not just smart, you’re…" He exhaled, searching for the right words.

"You’re strong. Even when you don’t feel like it."

You scoffed, but it came out weaker than you meant it to. "That’s a nice way of saying I’m stubborn."

Crowe let out a soft laugh. "Yeah, you are. But that’s part of it. You don’t just roll over when things get hard. You keep going, even when you think you don’t have it in you." He leaned back, running a hand through his hair.

"And I hate that you can’t see that. I hate that you think so little of yourself when I—" He stopped himself, sucking in a sharp breath.

You stared at him. "When you what?"

Crowe hesitated. His fingers tapped against the table again, a steady rhythm. Then, finally, he met your eyes. "When I think the world of you."

Your heart stuttered in your chest.

"You matter," he said, and he said it with such certainty it almost hurt. "You’re not some burden. You’re not some pity project. You’re—you’re you. And that’s enough. That’s always been enough."

Your hands curled into fists in your lap. You didn’t know what to do with the warmth creeping into your chest, didn’t know how to process the way he was looking at you—like you were something worth holding onto.

"Crowe—"

"I mean it," he cut in before you could come up with some excuse, some way to dismiss it. "And I’ll keep saying it until you start believing it yourself."

Crowe’s eyes softened as he watched you, but there was something else there too—something unshakable, something that made your chest ache in a way you weren’t ready for.

You looked away, focusing on the grain of the wooden table, on the faint scratches left behind by years of students who had sat here before you.

You weren’t feeling those feelings anymore. Not really. Not the way you used to. It was like a switch had been flipped somewhere along the way, like something inside you had just… shut off.

And that scared you.

Because even the pain, the hurt, the exhaustion—at least it had been something. At least it had been real. But now? Now it was just numb. Like you were watching your own life from behind a glass wall, unable to reach through, unable to touch anything.

Crowe must have noticed something shift in your expression because, before you could pull away, he reached out—slow, deliberate. His fingers brushed against your chin, tilting your face up until you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

"Hey." His voice was quiet, careful. Like he was afraid you might disappear if he said the wrong thing. "Where’d you go just now?"

You swallowed hard, blinking against the sting in your eyes. "Nowhere."

His thumb traced the edge of your jaw, the warmth of his touch grounding in a way you weren’t used to. Crowe never pushed, never forced his way in—but he had a way of making you feel seen, even when you didn’t want to be.

"You’re lying," he murmured, his grip steady but gentle. "And I get it. I do. But whatever it is, you don’t have to go through it alone."

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to let the words sink in, to let yourself reach for the warmth he was offering—but the weight in your chest was too heavy.

"I don’t feel it anymore," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t feel anything."

Crowe’s fingers twitched against your skin, his grip tightening just slightly as if grounding himself in the moment. A flicker of something unguarded passed through his eyes—raw, desperate, something he couldn’t put into words. It was brief, barely there, but you caught it.

And then, before you could pull away before you could disappear into yourself again, he leaned in.

His forehead hovered just over yours, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him, the steady rise and fall of his breath. He wasn’t forcing you, wasn’t taking anything—just waiting, holding steady, like he’d stand there forever if that’s what it took.

"Then let me feel it for you."

His voice was hoarse like the words physically pained him.

"Let me hold it until you can again."

Your breath hitched, something inside you cracking at the weight of those words. You weren’t sure what broke first—your resolve, the numb wall you’d built, or the illusion that you could keep pushing him away forever. But in that moment, something shifted.

His thumbs brushed over your cheekbones, slow, deliberate, like he was memorizing you—like he wanted to make sure you were still here. His hands weren’t trembling, but there was a tension in them, a silent plea he wasn’t voicing.

"You don’t see yourself the way I do." His voice was rough, edged with frustration, and something deeper, something almost unbearable.

He let out a slow breath, his forehead dipping against the side of your head, like the weight of what he said was too much to hold upright. "And that pisses me off."

That alone almost made you laugh. A quiet, breathless sound—more disbelief than humor.

Your throat tightened, and your chest ached. Your eyes burned. But you didn’t cry. Not yet.

Because for the first time in what felt like forever, someone wasn’t just telling you that you weren’t alone.

Crowe just proved it.

✑ 𝓈𝑜𝓁

Sol had never thought it would be this hard to find you.

He’d skipped his own classes to track you down, not bothering to tell anyone where he was going, not caring that the clock was ticking and he was supposed to be somewhere else. But when he’d gone to your usual spots on campus and asked around, there was no sign of you.

His heart had dropped lower with every dead end. When he reached your apartment, his gut twisted—he’d thought, maybe hoped, that you'd be somewhere else, somewhere safe, surrounded by other people. But you weren’t.

Sol knocked, but there was no answer. His breath came out in a frustrated puff. His instincts told him to push through, and he did. He twisted the knob, relieved to find the door unlocked, but he froze when he stepped inside.

The apartment was quiet.

Too quiet.

The only sound was the faint hum of an old air conditioner, the muffled traffic from outside the window. Everything felt still as if the space itself was holding its breath.

He moved cautiously through the small apartment, eyes scanning the room for any sign of you. There were books scattered across the coffee table, dishes piled up in the sink. It looked like you hadn’t been taking care of yourself. Not for a while.

He moved down the hallway, his heart pounding in his chest, as his gaze landed on the bathroom door—half-open, as though you hadn’t bothered to close it completely.

He stopped, instinctively bracing himself before stepping into the room.

The scene before him stopped him in his tracks.

You were sitting in the bathtub, your knees drawn up to your chest, your arms locked around them as if you could hold yourself together that way. The water was still—too still. It was clear, untouched, yet it seemed to be drowning you all the same. Your hair clung to your face, soaked, strands matted and heavy. You hadn't moved for so long that the water had become cold against your skin, but you didn't care.

Your face was hidden, your eyes closed, and for a brief moment, Sol couldn’t tell if you were asleep or… if you were gone.

A cold panic surged through him, piercing through his chest like ice. His heart stuttered in his ribcage as his breath hitched. He didn’t care about anything else—he just needed to know you were still there, still breathing.

Sol rushed forward, reaching for your shoulder, shaking you lightly at first. But when you didn’t respond, the fear in him began to twist, hard and tight. He shook you again, harder this time, his fingers gripping you with urgency, his voice raw with anxiety.

"Hey." His voice was a whisper, but it trembled with the weight of his panic. "Hey, you okay?"

You jerked awake with a startled shout, your body stiffening in alarm, and immediately you pushed away from his touch. Your eyes flashed open—wide, but unfocused. The fear in your voice was sharp, raw, and you barely registered that it was him standing over you.

"Stop! Go away!" You snapped, your voice thick with exhaustion and frustration. It was bitter, the kind of bitterness that had been accumulating for days, weeks, months.

The weight of everything you were trying to hide, trying to bury, came spilling out with those words.

Sol froze, his breath catching in his throat. His hands shook as he stood over you, watching your form curl into itself. Your clothes were soaked, clinging to your skin like a second layer, and your hair dripped onto your shoulders, wet strands sticking to your face.

He couldn't bear to see you like this—this distant, this unreachable.

"What’s going on with you?" Sol demanded, his voice firm but laced with the underlying concern he couldn’t hide. His brow furrowed, and there was a weight in his tone like he was pleading without saying it.

But you didn’t answer.

You just turned your face away, pushing your hair back with a dismissive motion, trying to rid yourself of the mess both in your mind and around you.

The silence stretched between you both, and Sol’s patience started to wear thin, a hint of frustration creeping in despite his worry. He rolled his eyes, not at you, but at the situation itself. He couldn’t stand the way you kept pushing him away, pretending that you didn’t need help, pretending that you didn’t need someone to care.

Without waiting for an answer, Sol turned on his heel and went to the linen closet. You barely noticed his movements at first, too lost in your thoughts to even register that he had left.

When he returned moments later, however, he had two freshly folded towels in his hands.

You blinked, your mind foggy as you tried to piece together how he had found them so quickly. You were lost, disconnected from everything but the fog of your head.

You sighed, exasperated, the weight of everything suddenly pulling at your chest again. "Go away." The words were barely more than a whisper, but they felt heavy on your tongue.

Sol didn’t budge. He took a step closer to the tub, his brow set in determination. But before he could say anything, you pushed him away, your hands weak but insistent.

"I don’t want you to touch me."

His expression softened, but the concern was still there, etched into every line of his face. He stood still for a moment, allowing you the space you wanted.

You were pulling further into yourself, retreating, and he hated that. But he wasn’t leaving—not until you saw he wasn’t going anywhere.

Sol stood there, his gaze hardening as he watched you pull away, trying to retreat further into yourself as if you could escape the moment. That familiar edge of anger sparked in him—the kind that always flared up when he felt helpless.

When he could see you falling apart right in front of him, all he could do was stand there and watch you push him away

"Try me," he growled under his breath, his voice low and controlled, but the roughness in it was undeniable. It was like he couldn’t hold back the frustration anymore, the pain of seeing you like this, watching you destroy yourself without any help, without any sign that you even wanted to fight it.

He took a step closer, his heart pounding louder with every second.

The sound of it was deafening in his ears, but it only pushed him forward, closer to you.

You turned your face away, but Sol wasn’t having it. He reached out with firm, purposeful hands and grabbed your wrist, not roughly, but with a hold that wouldn’t allow you to pull away. His fingers brushed over the raised scars on your skin, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

The reality of it hit him harder than he was prepared for, like a slap to the face. He swore under his breath, the anger shifting to something darker, something he couldn’t fully express.

"Why?" he asked, quieter now, almost afraid of the answer but still needing to hear it. His voice wavered with a vulnerability he wasn’t sure he wanted to show, but it slipped out anyway. He couldn’t help it—he needed to understand.

Why did you keep doing this to yourself?

You remained silent, your lips pressed into a thin line, a stubborn refusal to give him any of the answers he was desperate for. His grip on your wrist tightened just slightly, as though he was trying to tether you to him, not letting you slip away.

"You can talk to me," Sol said, his voice softer, more pleading now, despite the cold anger still simmering under the surface. "I don’t care how messy it is. I don’t care how bad it’s been, or how bad you think it’ll sound. Just—don’t do this. Not alone. Not anymore."

His words hung in the air, fragile and thin, like a thread that could snap at any moment. And for a fleeting second, you almost wanted to reach for it.

Almost. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

The thought of letting someone see you like this, letting them truly see the mess inside—you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t let anyone in.

"I don’t need saving, Sol." The words came out cold, clipped like you were trying to freeze everything between you both. But even as you spoke, your voice trembled, betraying you.

Sol didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. If anything, his hold on your wrist tightened just a little more, like he was trying to keep you anchored to him, trying to keep you from disappearing into yourself.

"Good," he said softly, his voice steady but filled with an honesty that almost took your breath away. "‘Cause I’m not trying to save you."

He stepped even closer, his breath shallow as he dropped down to sit beside the tub, his body close enough that you could feel the warmth of him, even with the chill in the air.

His face was just inches from yours now, his gaze locked on yours.

"I just don’t want to lose you." His voice cracked on the last word, and for a moment, it almost felt like everything else stopped. His words were simple, but they hit deeper than anything else he could’ve said.

He wasn’t trying to fix you. He wasn’t trying to save you.

He just didn’t want to lose you.

Sol let the silence stretch between you, the weight of his words pressing down like a hand around your throat. His grip on your wrist loosened, but he didn’t let go, his fingers ghosting over the scars with an almost reverent touch. His breathing was slow, controlled—but you could feel the tension radiating off of him.

Then, without warning, he moved. Swift and sure, like he had already decided what to do before you could even react.

He grabbed the towel he had brought earlier, shaking it out before reaching for you again. You stiffened, instinctively trying to shrink back, but Sol didn’t give you the chance.

"Enough." His voice was firm, brooking no argument as he pulled you forward, wrapping the towel around your shoulders. The fabric was thick and warm against your soaked clothes, a sharp contrast to the chill in the room.

You didn’t protest when he dragged you up. Maybe you were too tired. Maybe you didn’t want to fight him on this anymore. The moment your legs wobbled from the sudden movement, his arms wrapped around you, pressing you against his chest.

The warmth of him was suffocating.

"You’re shaking," he muttered, tightening his hold. His fingers dug into the fabric of the towel, pressing into your back as though he could physically hold you together. "Jesus, Pumpkin… what the hell are you doing to yourself?"

You swallowed, your throat dry. You could feel the steady thud of his heart against your ear, and could hear the controlled breaths he was forcing himself to take. But it was the slight tremor in his voice that made you feel like the worst person in the world.

You didn’t deserve this.

You didn’t deserve him.

Your hands twitched at your sides, unsure whether to push him away or hold on. But you didn’t move. You couldn’t. His warmth was a stark contrast to the coldness you had wrapped yourself in for so long, and for once, you let yourself feel it.

"Why are you here, Sol?" Your voice was barely above a whisper, cracking at the edges.

"Why the fuck wouldn’t I be here?" He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and unreadable. "You think I’d just ignore this? Ignore you?"

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. What were you supposed to say? That he should have ignored this? That it was easier that way?

Sol exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before cupping the back of your head, forcing you to look at him. His fingers wove into your damp strands, grounding you with his touch.

"Hey now," he said, voice firm, unwavering. "If you think for a second that I’m gonna sit back and let you drown in this—" his grip on your hair tightened slightly, quiet desperation seeping into his words—"you don’t know me as well as you think you do."

The guilt hit like a punch to the gut.

You tried to look away, but he didn’t let you. His grip was gentle but firm, his thumb brushing against the back of your neck in a way that made you shiver.

"I don’t need saving," you repeated weakly, but it felt like a lie now.

"Yeah?" Sol’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smirk, wasn’t quite a frown. "Then tell me—if I leave right now, if I walk out that door and don’t come back… are you gonna be okay?"

You opened your mouth to snap yes, to shove him away and tell him to leave you the hell alone. But the words caught in your throat.

Sol’s eyes softened, but there was something sharper lurking beneath. Something calculating. He saw the hesitation, the way your lips parted but no words followed, and he seized the moment.

"That’s what I thought," he murmured, his breath ghosting over your forehead.

You clenched your jaw, hating how easily he could tear through your defenses. Hating how right he was.

He sighed, his grip on your hair finally loosening as he rested his forehead against yours, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

"I’m not going anywhere, Pumpkin." His tone was softer now, almost tender—but there was something unshakable beneath it, something that made it clear you didn’t have a choice in the matter.

"So stop trying to make me."

You hated how much you wanted to believe him. How much you wanted to fall into this warmth, this safety he was offering. But deep down, you knew—this wasn’t just concern.

This was possession.

And Sol had no intention of letting you go.

✑ 𝑔𝑒𝑜

Geo wasn’t the type to care about people’s problems.

At least, that’s what he told himself. It was easier that way—easier to stay detached, to keep his own peace intact. But you?

You made it impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t anything obvious. You still showed up, still spoke when necessary, and still wore that same carefully constructed expression that kept everyone from prying too deep. The others didn’t see it—they weren’t looking hard enough.

But Geo? He noticed.

The way your laugh didn’t quite reach your eyes anymore. The way you lingered at the edges of conversations, only half-present. The way your shoulders carried just a little more weight than usual.

It pissed him off. Not at you—but at whatever had put that weight there in the first place. And the fact that no one else had noticed? That made it worse.

So when you weren’t in your usual spots after classes, he felt it. The unease settled into his chest like an itch he couldn’t scratch, and no matter how much he wanted to brush it off, he couldn’t.

Fine. If you weren’t going to say anything, then he’d figure it out himself.

The library? Empty.

Your club meetings? No sign of you.

Geo’s jaw tightened, his annoyance growing the longer it took. But then—then he found you.

The university greenhouse.

The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and fresh blooms, the warmth of the sun filtering through the glass ceiling above. And there you were, sitting on a worn stone bench, eyes closed, shoulders relaxed in a way that felt almost unnatural.

For a second, he just watched.

You looked peaceful. Or maybe… maybe you were just pretending to be.

Geo hated that he couldn’t tell.

With a sigh, he shoved his hands into his pockets and stepped forward, his footsteps quiet against the greenhouse floor. He didn’t say anything at first, just standing there like he was waiting for you to notice him. When you didn’t, he clicked his tongue in irritation.

"Didn’t think you were the type to nap in the middle of the day," he muttered, his voice just loud enough to cut through the stillness.

Your eyes flickered open, but you didn’t look surprised. Like you had already known he was there.

"Not napping," you murmured, voice slow, distant. "Just… thinking."

Geo sighed. "Yeah? And how’s that going for you?"

You exhaled through your nose, shaking your head slightly. "Too loud."

Geo frowned at that. The greenhouse was silent—just the faint rustling of leaves and the distant hum of the fans overhead. But he knew that wasn’t what you meant.

He moved closer, his gaze sharp as he took you in. The way your fingers curled slightly against the stone bench. The way your shoulders were tense, even if you were trying to look at ease. The way your eyes had that tired look—the kind that sleep wouldn’t fix.

Yeah. Something was wrong.

And it was worse than he thought.

"...You gonna tell me what’s going on, or do I have to drag it out of you?" His tone was casual, but there was an edge beneath it.

You huffed, shaking your head. "Nothing’s going on."

"Liar."

That made you pause.

Geo sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I don’t do the whole ‘prying’ thing. But when someone who’s usually pretty good at keeping their shit together suddenly starts falling apart under the radar? Kinda hard not to notice."

You tensed, and he caught it immediately. He was right.

"...You’re imagining things," you muttered, but it was weak.

Geo just scoffed. "Yeah? Then why are you out here, alone, sitting in a greenhouse like some tragic main character?"

You shot him a glare, but he just raised an eyebrow, unfazed.

"Thought so," he muttered.

Silence stretched between you.

You swallowed hard, your gaze fixated on the greenhouse floor, tracing the cracks between the stone tiles like they held answers you couldn't find anywhere else.

Geo wasn’t the type to comfort. He wasn’t the type to pry, either. If you wanted to talk, you would. If you didn’t, fine—he wasn’t going to beg for your feelings. But he also wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t see what was happening to you.

And for some reason, that made it worse.

"Listen." He exhaled sharply, his voice carrying that familiar edge of impatience, but not with you—never with you. More like he was frustrated at the situation itself, at the fact that he even had to say this.

"I don’t care what it is. I don’t care if it’s stupid, or if you think I won’t get it, or whatever excuse you’re using to keep your mouth shut." He leaned back against the bench, just close enough to remind you he was here, but not close enough to smother you. "Just don’t sit here acting like you’re fine when you’re clearly not."

His voice wasn’t soft. It wasn’t kind. But it was real.

And for some reason, that made it harder to breathe.

Your throat felt tight, something hot building behind your ribs, but you forced it down. You were good at that—at shoving things so deep inside yourself that they didn’t exist anymore. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

Geo let out a slow, heavy sigh, his shoulders rising and falling as if this whole thing physically exhausted him. "I don’t like worrying about people," he muttered. "Kinda hate it, actually."

His words shouldn’t have stung, but they did.

His eyes flickered toward you, sharp but unreadable as if debating whether to say the next part.

"But you?" His voice dipped lower, quieter, but somehow heavier. "Yeah. You make that shit real hard to avoid."

That did something to you.

You weren’t sure what exactly, but it hit deeper than you wanted it to. Deeper than you expected it to.

Your fingers curled slightly in your lap, gripping at the fabric of your clothes like you could anchor yourself there. "I don’t mean to," you murmured.

"I know." Geo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His expression remained unreadable, but his voice softened—not in the way people spoke to you with forced pity or careful concern, but in a way that felt... real.

"...Doesn’t change the fact that I still do."

And then—plink.

The first raindrop struck the glass above, a soft, barely-there sound. Then another. And another.

Within moments, the greenhouse filled with the rhythm of rainfall, steady yet heavy, each drop echoing against the glass panels. The scent of damp earth rose around you, rich and grounding, as the world outside blurred into a hazy wash of gray.

Geo exhaled sharply, arms crossing over his chest.

Of course, it had to start raining.

The timing felt cruel in a way—like the universe had been watching the whole time and decided this moment needed an extra layer of weight.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. But in the quiet of the downpour, in the stillness of the greenhouse, something in the air had shifted. The truth was, he wasn’t the type to comfort people. Wasn’t the type to sit around and hold hands, whispering empty reassurances.

It wasn’t something he was used to.

It wasn’t something he did.

Silence stretched between you, thick with something unspoken. The only sound was the rain pattering against the greenhouse glass, the steady rhythm filling the space between words you couldn't say.

Your chest ached. Not in a sharp, unbearable way—but in a dull, bone-deep exhaustion that never seemed to fade, no matter how much you tried to ignore it.

"...Classes are draining." Your voice barely rose above a whisper, but somehow, it felt deafening. "I feel like I go through them in a daze. Like I’m there, but I’m not."

Geo didn’t say anything, but you could feel his gaze burning into you. So you kept going because now that you started, it was hard to stop.

"I wake up, I go to class, I do what I have to, and then... I just exist." You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head. "And it never means anything. I don’t feel anything. I just... am. And I don’t even know if that matters anymore."

Your hands clenched tighter, knuckles turning white. The words felt too big, too raw, too exposed. It was terrifying.

And for the first time, you dared to look at him.

Geo’s jaw was tight, his fingers twitching against his knee like he was holding himself back. His usual sharp, cocky demeanor had faded into something else—something serious. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself.” His voice was quiet, but firm.

You didn’t look at him. “Doing what?”

His jaw clenched. "Acting like you don’t matter."

The silence that followed was thick—almost suffocating. And then, you laughed. Bitter, empty.

“Because I don’t.”

Geo stilled. The way you said it like it was just a fact like it wasn’t something that should sting—it pissed him off. He turned his head, eyes narrowing as he studied you, taking in the way your shoulders curled inward, the way your hands clenched in your lap like you were bracing for something. Like you believed what you just said.

Geo clicked his tongue. "Bullshit."

Your fingers twitched, but you didn’t say anything.

Geo exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face. He wasn’t good at this. He didn’t have the right words, the right softness people probably expected in moments like these. But he did know one thing.

His fingers moved before his mind fully caught up, wrapping around your wrist with a gentleness that contradicted the sharp edge in his expression. His thumb traced over the fresh marks you had tried so hard to keep hidden, his touch warm against the raised skin.

Geo didn’t say anything at first, just staring—his face unreadable, but his grip steady. Then, his jaw tensed, his voice coming out quieter than before, rough with frustration.

"You matter to me."

Your breath hitched. Something in your chest tightened, an ache you couldn’t quite place.

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you turned your face away, shaking your head. "You’re wasting your time."

Geo scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Then let me waste it."

Before you could react, Geo pulled you forward, shifting you into his lap like it was nothing, like he had already decided you weren’t going anywhere. His grip was firm but not forceful, an unspoken message that he wasn’t about to let you slip away—not now, not like this.

Your breath hitched at the sudden closeness. His face was just inches from yours, the warmth of his skin brushing against the coldness that had settled deep in your bones. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, hear the faint hitch in his breathing as he realized just how close you were.

He still didn’t let go of your wrist. If anything, his fingers curled slightly, holding you there like an anchor, like some stubborn part of him thought that if he kept you close enough, he could stop you from drifting any further.

Geo’s expression was the same as always—mildly annoyed, slightly flushed—but when he tried to speak, he faltered. “I—uh, I just—”

His voice caught. He clenched his jaw, his usual sharp confidence replaced by something uncharacteristically awkward. His ears burned red, his gaze flickering away for half a second before snapping back to you. For the first time in your life, you saw Geo flustered.

And it was hilarious.

The sight of him—one of the smoothest, most put-together guys you knew—stammering like an idiot while trying to be serious?

It was too much.

A laugh broke past your lips before you could stop it.

Geo froze.

Your shoulders shook slightly, exhaustion weighing heavy on your limbs, but you couldn’t stop laughing. It wasn’t forced. It wasn’t fake.

It was real.

And somehow, despite everything, it felt good.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the suffocating weight of uselessness that always clung to you—the one that whispered you were just a burden, that you didn’t matter—faded into the background.

Geo huffed dramatically, shifting slightly but not letting you go. "Oh, great. Now you’re laughing at me."

You buried your face into his chest, still shaking with quiet amusement. "Because you suck at this," you mumbled, voice muffled against the fabric of his shirt.

"Yeah, well—" He was about to fire back, but then he heard it again.

Your laugh.

Not the usual forced chuckle. Not the empty amusement you gave when you didn’t want people to worry.

A real laugh.

And just like that, he went quiet.

His arms wrapped around you more securely, holding you there—close, warm, real.

Fuck. Geo really cared about you.

✑ 𝒽𝓎𝓊𝑔𝑜

Hyugo easily felt other’s emotions that he cared about.

It wasn’t hard to guess where you’d gone—he just knew. Like an instinct. Like something in his gut told him exactly where to find you, even before he started searching.

The rooftop was off-limits. Not just by school rules, but in the way most people never thought to come up here. Maybe they were too afraid of getting caught. Maybe they just weren’t the type to seek out heights when the ground felt unsteady beneath them. But you? You never cared about the rules.

You didn’t care about much of anything these days.

Hyugo exhaled sharply as he pushed the rusted rooftop door open, stepping into the cold wind that swept across the campus skyline. His uniform was slightly rumpled, tie loosened, the usual carefree expression wiped clean from his face as he caught sight of you—sitting near the ledge, drawn into yourself like you were trying to disappear into the horizon.

He hated seeing you like this.

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.

“…You missed class again.”

His voice was quiet. Careful. Not demanding, not scolding—just there.

You didn’t react. You didn’t even turn your head.

Hyugo sighed and ran a hand through his hair. The bench near the rooftop’s edge groaned as he sat down beside you, leaving just enough space that you wouldn’t feel cornered—but not enough to let you pretend he wasn’t here.

“Figured I’d find you up here,” he said, leaning back slightly, his arms resting against his knees. “Was hoping I was wrong.”

Still, nothing.

You just kept staring at the skyline, like if you looked hard enough, you might find something out there that made existing feel worth it.

Hyugo wasn’t good with words. Not like this. Not when it mattered. But he couldn’t just sit here and let you drown in whatever thoughts were eating away at you.

His eyes flickered to your sleeves. To the faint, fresh marks barely hidden beneath the fabric.

Something in his chest twisted.

“…I get it, you know.” His voice was quieter now, rough around the edges. “Maybe not exactly. Maybe not in the way you do. But…”

He hesitated, watching your fingers curl slightly in your lap, your shoulders stiff like you were bracing for something.

“…It doesn’t have to be like this.”

A sharp, bitter laugh almost escaped your throat, but you swallowed it down. Doesn’t have to be? It always was. It always would be.

You finally spoke, voice barely above a whisper. “Then tell me what it’s supposed to be like, Hyugo.”

He inhaled slowly, watching you—really watching you. He didn’t have an answer. Not a good one. Not one that would fix anything. But that didn’t stop him from reaching out, his fingers brushing over your wrist, tracing the edge of the pain you carried like it was something fragile, something worth holding onto.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his grip tightening slightly. “But I do know that this isn’t all there is. And I hate that you think it is.”

That did something to you.

Your breath hitched, the weight in your chest pressing harder, heavier. You squeezed your eyes shut, hands clenching into fists.

Hyugo just held onto you. Not forcefully. Not trying to pull you away from the edge—just keeping you here. With him.

“…Talk to me,” he murmured. “Please.”

You wanted to say no. You wanted to stay in the silence, in the cold, in the nothingness.

But when you finally turned your head, when you met his eyes—the way he was looking at you like you were something precious, something irreplaceable—

For the first time in forever… You almost believed him.

Since Hyugo wasn’t the type to cry easily.

Sure, he was emotional—he felt a lot, more than he let on—but he was always the one with a bright smile, a teasing remark, a carefree attitude that made him easy to be around. He kept things light. Kept things fun.

But right now?

Right now, as he looked at you, really looked at you—at the exhaustion weighing down your shoulders, at the way your fingers trembled slightly as if you were holding yourself together with nothing but sheer will—something in him cracked.

His throat tightened.

You noticed the way his jaw clenched, the way his eyes glistened under the dim rooftop lights, the way his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you but wasn’t sure if he could.

Holy fuck. Did you almost make Hyugo cry?

The thought sent a sharp pang through your chest. It felt wrong. Unfair. He wasn’t supposed to be the one hurting. You were the problem here, not him. He shouldn’t—he couldn’t—

You shifted slightly, about to say something, anything to break the tension—

But then, before you could move, before you could even react, Hyugo suddenly lurched forward.

His arms wrapped around you, his face pressing against your chest, his entire body curling into you like he was holding on for dear life.

The impact startled you, making you stiffen, but he didn’t let go. If anything, he clung to you tighter, like he was afraid you’d slip away the second he loosened his grip.

“…Don’t do this to me,” he mumbled against your shirt, his voice muffled, strained.

You could feel the slight tremor in his hands, the way his breath hitched like he was barely holding himself together. His heartbeat pounded against you, fast, unsteady.

You swallowed hard, guilt settling deep in your stomach.

You didn’t mean to make him feel like this.

You didn’t mean to make anyone feel like this.

Slowly—hesitantly—you lifted a hand, resting it against the back of his head, your fingers threading gently through his messy hair. He let out a shaky breath, pressing his forehead deeper against your chest like he was trying to disappear into you.

“…Sorry,” you murmured.

He let out a soft, humorless chuckle, though it came out more like a choked sob.

“God, don’t apologize,” he muttered, voice cracking just slightly. “Don’t you dare fucking apologize right now.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your cheek against the top of his head. His warmth seeped into you, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. You didn’t even realize how cold you’d been until now.

For a while, neither of you moved.

Hyugo just held onto you, like he was afraid if he let go, you’d fade away completely. And maybe—just maybe—you let yourself sink into him too, just this once.

“…I’ll stay.”

The words barely made it past your lips, fragile and uncertain, like they might dissolve into the night air before they even reached him.

Hyugo sucked in a sharp breath. For a moment, he didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He just stared at you, wide-eyed, like he was afraid to blink in case he somehow imagined your words.

Slowly—cautiously—he pulled back just enough to see your face. The rooftop lights cast faint shadows across his features, but even in the dim glow, you could see it. The raw emotion pooled in his eyes, the way his lips parted as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words.

His eyes were red-rimmed, glossy with unshed tears.

“…Yeah?” His voice was barely above a whisper, hoarse and uncertain, like he needed you to say it again, to confirm that you meant it.

You nodded.

And that was it. That was all it took for whatever was holding him back to finally break.

A sharp, uneven breath escaped him, and his lips pressed into a thin line as his brows furrowed. His whole body trembled, hands curling into fists against your back like he was trying to ground himself.

Then, before you could process it, before you could even brace yourself, he lunged forward.

His arms wrapped around you, tighter this time—desperate. His entire body pressed against yours, warm and trembling, his face burying into the crook of your neck.

“Good,” he breathed against your skin, voice thick, raw. “Good. You better. You fucking better.”

You felt him shudder against you, his breath uneven, like he was barely holding himself together. His fingers dug into the fabric of your clothes, gripping you like you might slip through his grasp at any second.

“I—” His voice caught, and he shook his head slightly, swallowing hard. His next words were muffled, spoken so quietly they were almost lost against your skin.

“I’d miss you too much, you know?”

Something inside you twisted painfully.

You exhaled, closing your eyes, inhaling the familiar scent of him—warm, faintly like the wind, like something alive. His heartbeat pounded against yours, frantic and real, a stark contrast to the numbness that had sat heavy in your chest for so long.

You knew.

And maybe, just maybe—Hyugo was enough.

584 notes · View notes

saatorus · 2 months ago

Text

she won't go away— a sukuna fic

art creds to to_0fu (twitter/x)

pairing — college sukuna! x reader

synopsis — of all the people in your chemistry course, you get stuck with ryomen sukuna—the most insufferable, arrogant asshole on campus. he barely does any work, runs his mouth like it’s a sport, and somehow manages to make your life even more exhausting than it already is. if this project doesn’t kill you, he just might.

teaser wc — 1.8k (long for a teaser but i'm desensitised to any word count below like 100k words)

actual wc — 20-25k (gonna try and force myself to stick to this and not go into the 30s..)

tag list status — closed! the fic has been posted

warnings — explicit sexual content!!! sukuna being an absolute vile dick and saying questionable shit (i need him to be at least a lil canon compliant), mentions of reader and sukuna telling each other to go die, reader not being meek and letting him walk all over her, mentions of feeling insecure, multiple crash outs, angst?? will add more as i go along!

“That ‘little homework’ is forty five percent of our grade,” you bite out.

“Don’t give a fuck,” he grunts, sounding bored.

You inhale deeply. “So, I was thinking—”

But he groans, dragging a tattooed hand down his face. “Are we seriously doing this now?”

“Yes, we’re seriously doing this now,” you snap.

He exhales sharply through his nose, glaring. “God, you’re fucking annoying.”

You’re not sure whether you should be offended or hurt. On one hand, obviously as a normal human being, being spoken to like this from a person you’re quite literally talking to for the first time is bound to hurt your feelings. On the other hand, this guy’s dickhead personality is kind of well known through your university. Your grip on your pen tightens, but you keep your voice even.

“I’m annoying because I want to pass?”

”You’re annoying because you talk way too fuckin’ much.”

That stings more than you’d like to admit.

You grit your teeth, ignoring the way your stomach tightens, and push forward anyway. “If we divide the research today, we won’t have to meet up as often,” you say, firmly. “I assume you’ll want to do as little work as possible, so let’s just—”

“Holy shit.” Sukuna pushes his chair back with a loud scrape, fixing you with an exasperated look. “Do you ever shut up?”

You blink, stunned.

Toji snickers.

“Oh, come on,” Sukuna scoffs, throwing up a hand. “You’re gonna sit there all wide-eyed like I just kicked your fuckin’ puppy? You started it.”

Your fingers twitch against the table.

“Started what?” you ask, voice dangerously calm.

“This whole thing—acting like I’m some bum ass delinquent who needs a babysitter.” His eyes narrow. “If you wanna play boss, go find some other loser to be a bitch to.”

Your patience snaps. “Or you could just not be a lazy asshole. Do you lack brain cells? You’ve seriously told me to shut up like 5 times in the span of about ten minutes. Do you have a problem where you can’t focus?”

The air between you shifts.

Sukuna’s jaw tics. His expression darkens, something sharp flashing through his eyes, but then his lips pull into something crueler than a smirk—something with edges, something dangerous.

“You think I’m lazy? Got somethin’ wrong with me because I can’t take your nerdy bitching?” he asks, voice low.

You hesitate, but only for a second. “Glad you have the ability to comprehend what I said.”

That makes him grin. “And you think I’m an asshole?”

“Yes.”

He hums, tilting his head. Then he leans forward, just slightly, elbows resting on the table. His voice drops into something smug, mocking—

“Then why the fuck are you still talking to me?”

Your blood boils.

What the fuck is his problem?

You lean forward too, matching him, refusing to shrink under his gaze. “Because I have to, dumbass,” you snap. “I tried to change my group. I begged. I offered to do extra credit. I would have written a whole goddamn thesis if it meant not sitting across from you—but guess what?” You gesture sharply between you. “I’m stuck with you.”

Sukuna raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Tragic.”

You let out a frustrated breath, gripping the edge of the table so hard your knuckles turn white. “So, as much as I’d love to pretend you don’t exist—”

“Then do it,” he interrupts, tone dry.

You blink. “What?”

“If you wanna pretend I don’t exist, go ahead,” he drawls, leaning back lazily. “Do the whole project yourself. You’ll probably enjoy it, since you’re clearly getting off on playing group leader.”

“Oh, my god.” You clench your fists, barely restraining yourself. “Why are you such a dickhead? Parents not teach you basic respect?”

“Because you don’t shut the fuck up,” he snaps, finally looking genuinely irritated.

Your lips part, incredulous. “I’m literally just trying to do the fucking project? Like any normal human being?”

“No, you’re trying to control shit,” Sukuna says flatly. “Like this is some big deal—like I haven’t passed a million of these useless classes already.”

You stare at him. “You think this is useless?”

He smirks. “Yeah.”

Oh, you hate him.

“Some of us actually give a shit about our grades, Sukuna.”

“You know my name? Cute.”

You inhale sharply through your nose, trying to stay calm, trying not to launch your textbook at his stupid, perfect face. “I don’t care how many classes you’ve passed,” you say, voice taut. “You’re doing this one with me. I care about this project. And if I have to suffer through working with you, you can at least pretend to give a shit.”

He tilts his head, mockingly thoughtful. “Mm. No.”

You exhale slowly, trying—failing—to stop your hands from curling into fists.

“I swear to god—”

“What, huh?” he cuts in, voice dripping with condescension. “You gonna whine to the professor again?” He lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Pathetic.”

Your jaw tightens.

He grins, like he’s won something. Like he’s getting exactly what he wants—like this is a game to him, something to toy with, something to waste his time on.

And you refuse to let him win.

So, you straighten your spine, lift your chin, and meet his gaze without flinching.

“Fine,” you say, voice steely. “If you want to half-ass this, be my guest. Just don’t expect me to pick up your slack.”

Sukuna watches you, amused, as if he’s waiting for you to crack.

When you don’t, he smirks.

“We’ll see.”

You inhale sharply, forcing yourself to keep your voice level.

“Well, unfortunately for you,” you say stiffly, “you actually have to do your share.”

Sukuna snorts. “Says who?”

“The professor.” You cross your arms. “Since apparently, students have been slacking on group projects, we have to submit proof of collaboration—meeting logs, progress updates, actual proof that we’re working together.”

His expression darkens.

You fight the urge to smirk. Suffer.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he mutters.

“Nope.” You press your lips together, trying to hold back your pure satisfaction. “So, congratulations, Sukuna. You have to meet up with me at least once a week.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, glaring at you like you’re personally ruining his life. “You’re telling me I have to sit through this shit every week?”

“Yep.”

“You specifically?”

“Yep.”

Sukuna groans, dragging a hand through the unruly pink strands of his hair. Then, just as you’re about to remind him that this is literally his problem for being a shit student, he lifts his head—eyes raking over you in a slow, lazy once-over.

And then, he smirks.

You freeze.

“What?” you snap, immediately on edge.

His smirk widens.

“Nah, I was just thinking,” he drawls, tipping his head back against his chair. “If you were hotter, this would be way less painful.”

Your stomach drops.

The words hit you like a slap, and for a second, all you can do is sit there, stunned, completely caught off guard by how casual—how easy—it is for him to say something like that.

Like it’s just true.

Like it’s a fact.

Your fingers dig into your sleeve.

And the worst part? It’s not even the insult itself that stings—it’s the sheer, blatant dismissal. The fact that he looks at you and immediately decides you’re not worth even pretending to be interested in. As if you were hoping for his attention. As if you were seeking his approval.

You clench your jaw.

“Yeah?” you say, voice flat, emotionless. “Well, if you were smarter, I wouldn’t have to carry your useless ass through this class.”

His grin falters, just barely, but you see it—and for once, it’s your turn to smirk.

You lean forward, matching his posture, tilting your head mockingly.

“Guess we’re both disappointed, huh?”

For a moment, Sukuna just stares at you.

And you don’t miss the way his jaw tightens, how his fingers twitch against the table like he’s fighting the urge to rip you apart.

Good.

Then—he exhales sharply through his nose, tipping his chair back slightly, acting unfazed even though you saw the flicker of irritation in his eyes. “Damn,” he muses, voice slow, dragging. “Didn’t know you had a mouth on you.”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head. “Didn’t know you gave a shit.”

Sukuna scoffs. “I don’t.”

“Then shut the fuck up and do your work.”

He lets out a low, mean laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today.”

“Generous?” You nearly choke. “You’ve been nothing but a dick since the moment I sat down.”

He shrugs, unbothered. “Could be worse.”

Oh, you want to strangle him.

Instead, you inhale sharply through your nose, pressing your palms flat against the table before forcing yourself to stay on track. “Whatever,” you say, shaking your head. “Here’s the deal: we have to meet at least once a week. I don’t care where. I don’t care when. But we need to get the work done, and I need proof that you were actually present—because if we don’t, we both fail.”

Sukuna glares at you, as if the very concept of responsibility offends him.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face again. “You’re really gonna be a hardass about this, huh?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You don’t care about failing?”

“Not really.”

Your eyes narrow. “Then why are you even in this class?”

At this, he finally drops his chair back down onto all four legs, leaning in slightly. “Let’s get one thing straight,” he says, voice lower, more serious. “I don’t need this shit. I’m here because my old man thinks I should at least pretend to give a fuck about college.” He smirks, sharp and taunting. “But don’t get it twisted—I don’t actually give a fuck.”

You pause, studying him, trying to piece together the weight behind his words.

Of course, you know he comes from money. Everyone does. The Ryomen family name carries weight, old money, power, prestige—so it makes sense that college, for him, is just some bullshit obligation rather than a means to a future.

Still, something about the way he says it—how bitter it sounds—sticks with you.

Not that you care.

You roll your eyes. “Right. Got it. Poor little rich boy.”

His smirk drops.

For a second, there’s silence.

Then—

“You know what?” Sukuna says, voice eerily calm. “Fine. I’ll meet up with you.”

You blink, a little thrown off by how easily he gives in.

“…Okay?”

“But.” His gaze darkens, and the corner of his mouth twitches, almost like he’s daring you to argue. “You work around my schedule.”

Your stomach twists with irritation. “That’s not—”

“Not my problem,” he cuts in smoothly, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t do morning meetups. I don’t do last-minute bullshit. And if you start bitching about how I ‘don’t take this seriously,’” he mocks, voice lilting high, “I will walk out and leave you with an automatic fail. Or whatever the fuck happens to your grade if the other person doesn’t do their part. Got it?”

Your blood boils.

But what can you do? You already tried to get reassigned.

So, through gritted teeth, you say, “Fine.”

Sukuna smirks.

“Good girl.”

a/n: very overused trope but i love college au sukuna. sorry for making him a total asshole but i promise character development!!!!! i looove a good enemies to lovers, as seen with my take on nerdjo lolol!!! also yes this fic is based on "she won't go away" by faye webster and yes this song and it's lyrics will be making a cameo in my fic heheh... hope you all liked the teaser!!

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wildernessuntothemselves · 28 days ago

Text

Soulmate(s) | Part 3

Genre: smut, angst, fluff

Word Count: 11.3k

Summary: In a world where you get the name of your soulmate tattooed on your skin the night you turn 21, there should be no reason to even think about fucking around with anyone else. Why would you when you know that the perfect person who is made just for you is somewhere out there waiting for you to find them?

So how the hell did you end up messing around with your two best friends and what are you going to do if neither of them ends up being your soulmate or worse, what if one of them is your soulmate?

Warnings: fem!reader, soulmates au, this is not a light fic, there will be backstabbing and manipulation, sub!soobin, dom!soobin, sub!gyu, dom!gyu, switch!gyu, switch!soobin, handjob, cunnilingus, blowjob, tit-fucking, cumming all over oc lol, use of fleshlight/vibrator, somno

Bit by bit, the boys convince you to go further, telling you that two of you are bound to be soulmates and that since you all like each other so much anyway, there would be no harm in sharing for a little bit–to explore this new intimate side to your friendship before the official reveal, and that because you all cherish each other so much, that there would be no hard feelings when the third person eventually has to gracefully step back and seek out their own soulmate after having had this unforgettable, almost sacred experience with the people closest to them in the world. It would all turn out fine if you just keep it lowkey.

That would all be good and well were you one of the boys, but as it stands, you still find yourself holding back due to your persisting sense of unease about the taboo situation and the possible fallout despite their nonchalant reassurances, and you naturally find that you’re not experimenting with them as often as they are with each other. It’s easy to proclaim that none of you would have hard feelings when you’re not the one being left out while the other two grow closer and closer each day.

You know you have no right to feel jealous. You’re the one holding yourself back while the boys have been nothing but welcoming and enthusiastic about your participation, but you just don’t understand how they can be so chill about this. First of all, what you were doing was highly frowned upon and you’d get a lot of flack if this were to get out to others. Second of all, someone is bound to get hurt no matter what they say, and you have a bad feeling it will end up being you if the way they’ve been acting so lovey-dovey with each other is any indication.

Just like they are right now.

You have just woken up and headed to the kitchen to grab something to eat, pulled there by the delicious smell of pancakes cooking, but before you can step fully in and announce your presence, you see the two boys in each other’s arms–or more like Soobin in Beomgyu’s arms as the older boy tried to cook the pancakes while the other wraps his arms around his waist and teasingly jerks him off.

“I’m seriously going to burn this.” Soobin complains, struggling to keep his eyes open and his attention on the stove in front of him.

“That’s okay. We’ll just grab breakfast outside.” Beomgyu brushes him off, kissing his neck, but Soobin still resists. “The fire alarm will wake her up.”

Your heart flutters at the mention of you–at least Soobin is thinking of you, right? How pathetic–but then Beomgyu chuckles. “Let it. Her lazy ass should be awake anyway.”

You frown. Fucking asshole.

“She’ll kick our asses.” Soobin hisses as Beomgyu brushes his palm over the head of his cock, his knees buckling at the pleasure.

“Aw, you’re scared of her. Don’t worry, baby, I’ll protect you.” Beomgyu purrs, quickening his pace on the older boy’s cock and tearing a loud moan from him. “Just shut up about her and focus on me.”

Fucking asshole, you repeat in your head. Well, if he’s so intent on excluding you, you won’t let him.

You announce your presence with a fake gagging sound, and both boys’ heads whip towards you, Soobin looking as if he was caught red-handed while Beomgyu maintains a smirk on his face.

“Do I really have to wake up to this first thing in the morning?” You ask sourly, pretending to be disgusted at the display to hide your jealousy. What the hell did Beomgyu mean by telling Soobin to shut up about you? Isn’t it enough that they’re doing this without you? Now he wants to banish the mention of your name too? What is he playing at?

Oh, there you go again acting crazy over their close relationship with each other. This is exactly why this whole thing was a bad idea. Even though the three of you are very close friends, you were the third and last addition to the friendship. They had been friends for years before Soobin clumsily and literally stumbled into your life and dragged Beomgyu along with him, and even though you’d all been close since then and the boys never said or did anything outright to give you the impression that they favoured the other, you always secretly knew that you could never compete with the special bond they have with each other and that you’ll have to content yourself with being the unspoken third wheel in this friendship. Which is fine, you’ve had years to come to terms with it, but now you have to deal with being the third wheel in this illicit threeway too, and you don’t know if your heart and ego can take it.

“What’s wrong with this? You don’t like what you’re seeing?” Beomgyu teases, continuing to pump Soobin’s dick despite the other boy’s embarrassment. Not that he makes any effort to stop him. He just bites his lips and averts his eyes away from you.

You do. You do like what you’re seeing, but sadly it also fills you with unbridled jealousy and feelings of inadequacy.

“Not near my food. I don’t want cum splatter on my pancakes.” You hold onto your scowl, and Beomgyu laughs. “Fair enough.”

He puts Soobin’s cock back in his pants before petting it teasingly, making the other boy whine. “We’ll finish this later, baby.”

Beomgyu washes his hands and sets the dishes down while Soobin finishes up the last of the pancakes before making his way to the table, awkwardly struggling with his prominent boner that bunches up his sweatpants comically.

Unfortunately, even with you sitting there at the table, they are still all over each other, chatting away about their plans for the day and what they have been up to. They try to keep you engaged and ask you questions but it’s hard for you to match their energy this early in the morning, especially when your mood has already been soured. You just sit there and listen to them talk each other’s ears off about this new album released by an artist they both like but you’re indifferent to, and all the hidden meanings behind his lyrics that throw back to previous songs only true fans will know.

You feel completely isolated from them and it is only made worse by how touchy they’re being with each other, patting each other on the head affectionately or reaching forward to give a playful shove in jest or even just the way their bodies naturally lean close to the other person when they’re speaking. It fucking hurt your heart.

To be fair to them, they try to include you too. Soobin makes sure to look at you when he’s talking so you can feel involved in the conversation and Beomgyu has one of his arms permanently draped around the back of your chair in a semi-embrace, but still isn’t the same. And soon your jealousy and annoyance reach their peak.

“Oh, hyung, this is so delicious! Have a taste.” Beomgyu holds up a piece of whipped cream covered strawberry but when Soobin leans in to try to have a bite, Beomgyu moves his hand and smears the whipped cream over his cheek, laughing.

“Really, Beomgyu?” Soobin pouts, looking painfully adorable.

“Sorry, hyung. You’re just so fun to mess with. Here, let me clean you up.” Beomgyu cradles Soobin’s face and brushes the whipped cream off with his thumb, but instead of wiping it on some tissues, he pushes it past Soobin’s plush lips and into his mouth, making the older boy suck it off.

“There. How does it taste?” He asks, eyes dark as he watches Soobin suck on his finger.

“Beommie.” Soobin slurs, “Stop teasing.”

“I’m not teasing.” Beomgyu denies, biting his lip, making Soobin huff and pull him into a heated kiss, obviously still affected by what happened earlier.

God this must be your own personal hell for agreeing to this diabolical deal. The boys look so fucking hot kissing each other mere inches from you but the sight also breaks your heart as you’re left seemingly forgotten once agin.

Are they going to end up together?

You don’t want to be the one left out. Is it horrible to admit that? But if two of you end up together, the third gets left behind—and you’re scared it’ll be you. You don’t want that to be you. They fit together so easily, like they were made for each other. How are you supposed to compete with that?

You know Beomgyu is largely the instigator in this but Soobin is also much more receptive to his advances than you have been. You know you shouldn’t feel resentful and jealous since you're not making it any better for yourself either but you can’t stop yourself from getting pissed off at Beomgyu. If the pervert could just hold back a little bit, then you wouldn’t always feel so left out. Soobin at least has the decency to shy away from flaunting in front of you, but Beomgyu doesn’t seem to care if you’re there or not. In fact it seems as if he gets a kick out of riling you up.

God, how you want to punish him for it… well, why don’t you? You’re part of this relationship too, no matter how neglected you’ve been. You’ll show him.

You reach forward, grabbing onto Beomgyu shirt and yanking him back, disconnecting them and pulling him towards you instead. He barely gets any chance to react before your lips are on his.

They are not as pliable as Soobin’s. You don’t allow him any control over the kiss, making it clear right away that you’re the one in charge, and your bruised heart is somewhat soothed when he gives in immediately, opening his mouth and letting you push your tongue in.

“Do you ever not think with your dick?” You hiss when you pull back for breath and he has the audacity to smile.

“Sorry, princess, I am just so horny.” He tells you shamelessly and you scowl. “And so bad. Maybe you need to be punished.”

He wears a shit-eating grin, his eyes glinting with excitement. “Oh, kinky.”

______________________

He wasn’t so excited now. Not when he was bound to a chair and forced to watch you pleasure Soobin the way you've been metaphorically bound and forced to watch them love on each other.

He tries to voice his displeasure, tries to whine but he can't say much when your panties are stuffed in his mouth, shutting him up for once. You can see how pissed off he is and if he can talk, you're sure he would chew you both out like he was before you had the bright idea to shut him up. Beomgyu loved being the centre of attention. He wanted both of you to dote on him and he hated seeing you play with each other and ignore him–but it is exactly this, giving him a taste of his own medicine, that gives you immense pleasure.

Beomgyu writhes in his seat, grunting unhappily as he tries to break free of his restraints, his hips bucking into thin air.

“Calm down, Beommie. You're gonna hurt yourself.” You tell him, actually concerned, and he glares at you, fighting against his restraints harder.

Are you taking it too far? Is he actually upset?

Scared to ruin your tentative relationship, you reach forward to finally touch him–needing to prove to yourself that he doesn’t actually hate you, and as soon as your fingers brush his nipples, his back arches and he moans out from behind his gag pathetically.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so sensitive.” You tease, relieved, and he glares at you again but this time the intensity is tempered by the pleasure.

“Yeah, does that feel good, baby?” You coo, pulling lightly at his nipple and watching as his cock twitches and leaks precum, the sight of it making you rub your legs together in need. Fuck, you wanted him, and he wanted you too.

He whimpers behind the makeshift gag and stares at you with big pleading brown eyes that make you weak. Fuck, why did he have to look so pretty?

“Fine, I'll be nice even though you don't deserve it.” You sigh, and instruct Soobin to get you your toy box from under your bed. He scampers away quickly to get it and for the two whole minutes he is away, Beomgyu does his best impression of a kicked puppy, whining and whimpering for you to give him some attention.

“Damn, baby, relax. I said I’ll be nice.” You laugh, acting decidedly not nice as you kiss and nip at the skin of his thighs, so close to his cock, you can feel it almost bursting with need, and by the time Soobin comes back with your box, you’ve already left a few marks on his pretty skin which Soobin eyes up with envy for a second before their attention is quickly drawn to the item you pull out from the box.

“Woah, why do you have this?” Soobin asks as you brandish a fleshlight, and you grin. “I got it to take care of my horny boys because I know you’re both just dying for a warm wet hole to stick your dicks into. Why, you wanna give it a try?” You ask Soobin but he surprises you by shaking his head no.

“No. Want you.” He says meekly and you frown. “Soobin. You know I can't actually fuck you.”

“I know but…” He trails off, silently brushing his fingers between your thighs, and realization dawns on you. “Oh you naughty boy. You wanna fuck my thighs?”

He nods eagerly and you laugh. “I suppose you can. It's dirty but I don't see why not.”

You turn towards Beomgyu, leaning forward so that your tits are hovering over his lap as you arch your back towards Soobin, letting him put his legs on either side of yours and push his cock between your thighs.

“Oh.” You bite your lip, making eye contact with Beomgyu as Soobin's dick glides under your pussy as it moves in and out between your thighs.

Beomgyu really doesn't look happy about being left out and you suppose you’ve tortured him enough. After all, you don’t actually want him to have a bad experience and ruin this for yourself even more. You gotta keep him happy too.

“Don't give me that look.” You roll your eyes at him, gathering some of your spit in your mouth before letting it spill onto his cock, relishing in the sharp intake of breath he takes and the way his thighs tense as it makes contact. You then place the fleshlight at the head of his cock and slip it over it just slightly, teasing him.

You hear a growl rise from deep in his chest and you laugh, pumping only the head of his cock, continuing to tease him. You have to admit it brings you a sick sense of pleasure to torture him like this when he's done nothing but drive you crazy lately. You want him to fall apart for you. You want to prove that he can want you as much as he wants Soobin.

“Is it good, Beommie?” You taunt, your words coming out broken as Soobin fucks your thighs. Beomgyu's eyes narrow, staring at Soobin’s hands that were fondling your tits, and you grin with satisfaction. He’s the one feeling left out now. “Binnie’s having the time of his life fucking me and playing with my tits while Beommie’s all tied up, huh? Poor baby.”

He angrily jerks in his seat again, trying to free himself, but the sudden movement causes him to bottom out into the fleshlight, his ass falling backwards into the seat as he mewls at the sudden pleasure. Deciding you’ve been mean enough, you move your arm to continue to fuck his dick all the way with the fleshlight, and before long he was too delirious to fight anymore, his head lolling back at the pleasure and his hips shaking as he struggles to meet your fast pace.

“There you go, Beommie. Does that feel good on your needy dick?” You ask, your voice suddenly rising in pitch as Soobin grabs your nipples and pulls on them more roughly as his hips smack against your ass harder and faster. “Pay attention to me. I thought he was the one being punished.”

“He is. You’re the one getting to play with me however you want while he’s stuck fucking a plastic toy. Don’t be greedy, Binnie.” You chide him breathlessly, but you secretly love every bit of it. You love to have them fight over you. It soothes both your ego and your worries about being left in the dust.

“You’re right. I'm the one who gets to do this.” Soobin says, pulling you up by the shoulders so you're sat upright instead of leaning over Beomgyu before he pulls your shirt up to expose your breasts to Beomgyu’s hungry eyes as he flicks the nipples and kisses your neck. “Beommie must be dying to do this. He talks about your tits a lot.”

Beomgyu narrows his eyes at him in warning but Soobin doesn't care. “Yeah, what does he say about them?”

“That he can't wait to fuck them.” He says, pushing them together to give Beomgyu a good show. He was teasing him and you’re living for it. “Says that sometimes when we're sleeping in the same bed, your tits would fall out of your tank top and he'd have to hold himself back from climbing on top of you and fucking them until you wake up with his cum in your hair.”

You gasp, pressing your thighs closer together at Soobin's brazen revelation of Beomgyu's dirty fantasies. Your pussy flutter and drips onto Soobin's cock as he rams it between your thighs while you watch Beomgyu desperately fucking into the fleshlight in your hand, unfazed by Soobin spilling his secret fantasies to you.

“Yeah, and what about you? I could feel your big, hard cock pressed against my ass every morning. Don't think you’re slick either.” You say and Soobin chuckles, pushing you back onto Beomgyu. You almost crash into his lap as Soobin palms your asscheeks in his big hands. “Yeah, wanna fuck your ass. That's not a secret. Me and Beomgyu wanna plug you from both ends.”

Fuck. When did Soobin get so confident? Was all that was needed was to tie and gag Beomgyu in order to let Soobin's freak flag fly?

“Do it then, baby.” You take the fleshlight off Beomgyu's dick, ignoring his muffled protests, and put it between your legs, offering it to Soobin to simulate him fucking you, and he is too far gone to think about it twice, immediately pushing his cock into it with a loud moan.

“Yesss.” He hisses, hips picking up pace quickly, rocking your body back and forth to the point where you struggle to get your mouth on Beomgyu. So you grab his dick with your free hand and guide it towards you, finally taking it in and making the boy cry out at the sudden warmth surrounding his aching cock.` ~

Once he’s in your mouth, Soobin’s savage thrusts serve to push you over Beomgyu’s cock over and over again, at times making you gag on the other boy’s length, the tightening of your throat making him shake in pleasure as he meets your mouth with his desperate thrusts that choke even harder. But despite your dwindling air supply and the soreness of both your jaw and ass, you stay put, soldiering through it to fulfill the boys’ dirty fantasies and secure your spot in this ill-advised relationship.

“Fuck–fuck–I’m close. Gonna cum inside you.” Soobin slurs, deep grunts are turning to breathy moans as his hips lose their rhythm and his large hands grasp onto your ass to push you backwards to meet his hips.

“Do it, baby.” You take your mouth off Beomgyu and replace it with your hand, maddeningly slowing your pace down on him to focus on Soobin.

“Fill me up, Binnie. I need it bad.” You say sweetly, though your smile is anything but as you stare up at Beomgyu and watch him whimper and cry at having his own orgasm stolen from him.

“I’m cumming. Take it, baby.” Soobin cries out, lost in his pleasure as he cums inside the fleshlight.

When his frantic thrusts still, you pull the fleshlight off him, taking care not to spill any of his seed. You hold it up for Beomgyu to see, pushing two of your fingers inside and pumping them in a few times, coating your finger’s in Soobin white cum before you pull them out, brandishing them for Beomgyu to see.

“Fuck, please.” He whimpers when you pull your underwear from his mouth but you quickly replace it with your fingers.

“Taste it, baby. It’s delicious.” You mock his previous words and Beomgyu’s pretty lashes hang heavy with unshed tears. He obediently licks them clean for you, even sitting still while you push your fingers to the back of his throat and make him gag on them until the tears finally fall from his eyes.

When you pull them back out, trailing a string of saliva behind them, Beomgyu pleads, “Please. I’m going insane. Please.”

“Aww, poor Beommie… I’ve been so cruel to you, haven’t I?” You taunt him, patting his cheek with your dirty hand and he nods. “You wanna cum now?”

He nods again. You grin and bring the still cum filled fleshlight to his cock, pushing it down on his length and fucking him rapidly–Soobin’s thick, white cum covering his cock in seconds.

“Oh–Oh, fuck… yeah, just like that. Please, don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.” He cries, but your evil laugh is quickly cut off when you feel a hand sneak between your legs, and look back to see Soobin grin as he rubs your sopping pussy.

“Want you to cum too.” He tells you and you bite your lip, annoyed at him for undermining your moment of control and at yourself for how close you feel already, but you can’t keep that energy up for long because the pleasure quickly overcomes you after you’ve been on edge and neglecting yourself for so long. You frantically jerk off Beomgyu while you hump Soobin’s hand–the obscene wet noises from your activities filling the room.

“Yes–yes–yes! Thank you!” Beomgyu screams, lifting his ass as far off the chair as he can as he bottoms out into the fleshlight, cumming and almost falling over in the process. You’re not far behind him, gasping as your legs shake and you struggle to stay up, the pleasure almost blinding you for a second.

By the time you all calm down, you’re all sweaty and dirty and achy but utterly blissed out.

“Fuck, that was awesome.” Soobin laughs as he undoes Beomgyu’s restraints.

“It was.” Beomgyu agrees, massaging his red wrists and ankles, “Next time, I get to tie one of you up.”

“No way, freak.” You shudder. You hate to think what the perv would make you go through if he ever got you helpless in his hands. “Not happening.”

He pouts. “Well, that’s just unfair.”

“Tough shit.” You roll your eyes, standing up and heading to the bathroom to take a long hot shower.

__________________

Even after doing all of that, you still can’t keep up with them. They’ve thrown themselves into this headfirst, as if the best-case scenario doesn’t end with someone’s heart in pieces, and you can’t bring yourself to do the same.

The relationship has gone beyond just sex. You all go on dates together now, but it still feels like you’re constantly vying for their attention. They move in sync, seamless in a way that makes you feel like an outsider in your own relationship. The inside jokes, the shared glances, the unspoken understanding between them—it gnaws at you, eating you from the inside.

Today is no exception.

This café used to be your favorite. The three of you had spent countless afternoons here—studying, venting, just existing together. It is very dear to your heart, almost like a second home. But today, it is anything but. Today, you find yourself wishing to be anywhere else.

You fiddle with your bracelet absently as the waiter arrives. Beomgyu orders without hesitation—his usual iced americano, your caramel macchiato, and—

“Strawberry matcha for Soobin,” he says easily, handing over the menus.

Your fingers pull at the bracelet, almost snapping it.

What?

“Since when does Soobin like matcha?” you asked, surprised, and a bit annoyed by how Beomgyu had made the order so casually as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Soobin hated matcha. He always said it tasted like grass so why was Beomgyu now acting like he's been a matcha connoisseur for years.

You don't know why you’re fixated on that small, insignificant detail but it just felt like yet another thing you weren't included in.

“Oh, since we tried that new shop, remember?” Beomgyu tells you offhandedly as if you should already know. He laughs loudly and nudges Soobin playfully, an unspoken joke between them.

“Ugh, don't remind me.” Soobin groans, hiding behind his hands, and your eyes flit between Soobin’s embarrassed expression and Beomgyu’s teasing one.

“What, what happened?” You fake a laugh, trying to sound casual, trying to be included.

“We almost got kicked out. You don't remember?” Beomgyu frowns then his eyes draw up in realization and he brushes the back of his neck sheepishly. “Oh right. You weren’t there.”

“No I wasn’t.” You don’t mean for your voice to come out bitter but you couldn’t help it. You clear your throat and try to cover your slip up with a tight smile. “What happened? Why did you almost get kicked out?”

Soobin flushes, ears burning, his eyes still on Beomgyu. “Someone couldn’t keep his hands to himself.”

“No, someone couldn’t keep quiet.” Beomgyu retorts, putting a hand on Soobin’s thigh, making the older boy shift shyly and push his hand away.

“Stop it! You’re gonna get us kicked out again.” He whines lowly and Beomgyu bites his lip and regards him with a hungry look as if he could just eat him up right then and there.

You wish you would get kicked out so you don’t have to bear witness to your own heartbreak like this. You have been here with them many times before and you're sick of it. Each time it feels like they’re slipping away from you more and more, and you’re left chasing after their mirage.

“That sounds like fun,” you mutter, your smile fighting for its life to stay on your lips. “What else did I miss while you two were off without me?”

There was a slight hitch in Beomgyu’s smile, like he recognized the edge in your voice, but if he did he quickly masks it with his usual charm.

“Oh, you didn’t miss much, really,” Beomgyu said, his tone remarkably casual. “Soobin just likes matcha now. That’s all.” Then he attempts to lighten up the mood, “Though I have trouble even calling what he drinks matcha. It’s all dessert flavoured processed crap that barely resembles real matcha.”

“Oh, wow, we got a matcha supremacist over here. Not my fault, that's the only tolerable way to drink that stuff.” Soobin says defensively, but there was a fondness in his voice. He reaches out and lightly punches Beomgyu's arm, making Beomgyu let out a genuine laugh–not like the uncomfortable ones they’ve been putting on for you.

You force a chuckle, but it rings hollow even to your own ears. You want to be part of this—to be in this relationship—but every shared glance, every effortless laugh, every unspoken understanding between them only makes you feel more and more like an outsider.

“Yeah, well maybe I’d like it too if it tasted like my caramel iced coffee.” You try to joke but the words fall flat. The boys still offer you half-hearted smiles, but they don’t quite reach their eyes.

Soobin’s smile falters—just for a second—before he masks it with something warm, something reassuring. Beomgyu’s gaze softens, like he wants to say something but can’t find the words. They exchange a glance, that unspoken connection flaring between them, and then Beomgyu finally speaks.

“Next time, we’ll definitely bring you along.” Soobin tells you, and Beomgyu nods, “Definitely… but maybe we’ll keep the fun at home this time.”

You watch as Beomgyu leans in towards Soobin, a teasing lilt in his voice, reveling in the way Soobin laughs shyly.

They’re in their own world. And you’re just standing outside of it.

“Yeah, sounds good,” You mutter, unsure if they even hear you.

__________________________

You couldn’t stand back and watch them anymore. It was slowly driving you insane. You are always the third wheel, always trailing behind, and soon, you feared, you’d be forgotten entirely.

So, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

If you can’t break into their world when they are together, then maybe you can when they are apart. If you can’t compete with them as a pair, then maybe you had a chance if you split them up. Maybe it’s not playing fair, but the thought of standing by while they fell into each other and leave you behind, makes your skin crawl.

Nobody knows how the soulmate thing works. Maybe it wasn’t just fate—maybe it depended on the bonds formed before the tattoos appeared, and that by standing by and letting yourself be pushed out of the relationship, you’re undermining your own chance at a happy ending.

No, you can’t let that happen. You have to act now, or risk being left behind forever.

You start small—little things, easy to overlook. You laugh a little louder when Beomgyu makes a joke, speak a little softer when Soobin needs quiet. You’re the one who reminds them of plans they’ve made, the one who fills the silence when things go tense. You begin showing up with little things—Soobin’s favorite tea when he’s stressed, a new hair tie for Beomgyu when he forgets his (again). You slip notes into their bags, nothing big—just dumb doodles, inside jokes, gentle reminders that you’re thinking of them. You find yourself sitting between them on the couch, brushing shoulders with one of them, draping your legs over the other's lap during lazy movie nights.

Bit by bit, you carve out your place within theirs, until the silence between their conversations starts to include you, until their glances begin to seek yours. You weren’t naive. It wasn’t enough for them to care about you—they had to want you, need you, in ways they couldn’t find in each other..

Still, it was rare to catch either of them alone, but your first opportunity came when all three of you had the day off. Beomgyu had errands to run that morning, leaving you with the perfect chance to have Soobin all to yourself, even if just for a couple of hours.

Beomgyu didn’t make it easy, though. You had woken up—not just from the sound of him moving around and getting ready in the morning, but because you were waiting. Waiting for the moment he was gone so you could finally make your move on the still-sleeping Soobin.

But Beomgyu, noticing you were already awake, didn’t leave right away. Instead, he lingered, trying to convince you to come with him instead.

"You wanna come with me?" Beomgyu asked, trying to make his voice sound cute as he gives you his signature exaggerated pout. Normally, it was an infuriating mix of annoying and endearing, but right now, it was just annoying. You had a plan, and you weren’t about to let him ruin it.

You shifted on the bed, your gaze drifting to Soobin beside you. He was still sound asleep, his breathing steady, his features relaxed in a rare kind of peace that only sleep can provide. For a moment, you envy him his rest–free of all your troubles and overthinking, and you almost feel guilty for your plan to rob him of it.

You glance back at Beomgyu, meeting his expectant gaze. Letting out an exaggerated yawn, you stretch before sinking deeper into the blankets.

"Mmm, I think I’ll pass. Too warm, too cozy," You murmur, pulling the covers snug around you, burying yourself into the warmth.

Beomgyu huffs, rolling his eyes before stepping closer.

"Come on, baby," He drawls, voice whiny and playful. "You’re really gonna make me suffer through errands all alone? That’s so cruel." He pouts dramatically, fingers hooking onto the blanket as he gives a gentle tug. "You know I hate doing things by myself.”

You bite back the urge to snap at him. If he kept this up, he’d wake Soobin—and if that happened, there was a chance Soobin might actually agree to go with him. That would ruin everything.

Forcing a smile, you reach out, brushing your fingers over Beomgyu’s hand in a gentle attempt to placate him.

"Sorry, baby," You say, your voice laced with just the right amount of sweetness. "I’ve been exhausted from college lately, and I really need the rest. But when you come back, maybe we can all go out for lunch? We could finally try that new spot you wanted."

A perfect compromise—one that should hopefully get him off your back.

"Or," Beomgyu counters, tilting his head with a hopeful smile, "You could come with me now, and I’ll treat you to lunch there after we’re done."

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Of course, he wouldn’t let this go.

"Beomgyu, I’m really tired," You say, firmer this time, making it clear you’re not budging.

He exhales, the playful glint in his eyes dimming as his shoulders sag ever so slightly. And for a moment, guilt creeps in. As frustrating as he can, you hated seeing him sad.

"Alright, alright," He sighs, finally relenting. Leaning down, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. "Guess I’ll survive without you."

You nod, eager for Beomgyu to leave. But he lingers for a moment longer, his eyes flickering between you and Soobin, hesitation etched in his features, as if there’s something more he wants to say.

But in the end, he just gives you a small nod and turns toward the door.

"You two have a good rest," He says, his voice light, casual, but there’s a hint of something else—something you can’t quite place—before he finally steps out, leaving behind a hush of quiet in his absence.

You watch the door for a moment, a frown tugging at your lips. Was he thinking the same thing you were? Did he, too, fear being left out? Maybe the boys weren’t as secure in this relationship as you had thought.

But when Soobin shifts beside you, the moment breaks, pulling you back to the present. You exhale softly, the tension in your shoulders easing just slightly.

Now, it was just you and him. No interruptions. No distractions. Just the quiet rise and fall of his breath, the peacefulness etched into his sleeping face.

These moments were rare—just the two of you, without Beomgyu’s overwhelming presence filling the space. And maybe, just maybe, this was how it was meant to be.

You watch him sleep for a few more minutes. You can feel the pulse of the quiet in the room, the way the light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow on his handsome face. There is something about being with him like this, without Beomgyu’s constant yapping, without the unspoken tension that always hung between the three of you, where you could actually sit back and pay attention to Soobin and everything that makes him uniquely him.

You slowly reach out, fingertips brushing over his skin, tracing the delicate contours of his face. Where Beomgyu was all effortless charm and playful charisma, Soobin was something quieter and more familiar—tall, dark, and oh so sweet, the picture perfect image of first love that everyone yearned to have.

Gently, you take his arm and drape it around yourself, savoring the warmth, the way it feels so natural. Then, without thinking, you lean in, pressing the lightest kiss to his lips—soft, chaste, but enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Do you want Soobin to be your soulmate? He’s sweet, sometimes shy and reserved, but lately, he’s shown you a side of him that’s unexpectedly bold. Could you see yourself ending up with him, waking up to this every day—wrapped in his arms, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, just enjoying the peacefulness of the early mornings?

You could. He feels safe, like a warm cozy night with whispered conversations under the soft glow of your bedside lamp. He’d know when to tease and when to hold his tongue, when to push and when to take a step back–never challenging you but never pushing you past your limits either. With him, love wouldn’t be a puzzle to solve or a bid to win the upper hand—it would be just there, steady and unwavering A stable presence, always there, always yours. Like the boy next door—not the kind who sweeps you away in a whirlwind, but the kind you could build a steady life with.And maybe that’s enough.

With a soft sigh, you ease yourself out of his arms, ignoring the soft whimper of protest he makes in his sleep at the loss of your warmth. You press a gentle shush against his lips, soothing him even as you slip from his grasp.

Your steps are quiet as you make your way to the familiar drawer—the one that holds your box of toys. Fingers brushing over the contents, you find what you’re looking for. Your trusty wand vibrator.

You wear an excited grin on your face as you walk back to the bed and see Soobin perfectly sprawled out for you. All you had to do was pull the blanket off him gently and you had full access to his pliant body which you take full advantage of, turning the vibrator to the lowest setting before pressing it against his clothed cock.

You start slow—so slow that at first, he barely reacts, just a faint shift in his breathing, a subtle twitch of his fingers. That’s exactly what you wanted. You didn’t want to wake him abruptly; you wanted this to build gradually, for the pleasure to have fully taken hold of his mind by the time he is slowly eased into awareness.

Carefully, you continue, increasing the intensity in small increments, watching as he starts to squirm. His brow furrows, his fingers curl slightly, and his body shifts as if caught between dreams and reality. Every small reaction sends a thrill through you, anticipation coiling in your chest as you wait for the moment his mind finally catches up to his body.

“I… please…” He gulps, begging sweetly even in his dreams, his hips canting ever so slightly towards the vibrator, a small patch of precum staining his sleeping shorts.

“It’s okay, baby, enjoy it.” You coo in his ear, letting your voice seep into his subconscious mind. “I got you.”

“Mmmhh.” He whimpers, bucking into the vibrating wand and craning his neck backwards, giving you the perfect opportunity to plant bruising kisses there, intent on leaving your marks for Beomgyu to see. You pay special attention to the spot right under his ear, relishing in the sweet way he keens and whines for you before you make your way down his neck to bite down on the spot joining his neck and shoulder.

He is already far gone by the time he wakes up.

“Oh, god.” He cries, jolting awake and looking around in confusion. “Wha–”

“Morning, Binnie.” You grin, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“What's g-going on?” He rasps, his hips still ever so slightly bucking up towards the stimulation.

“You got a bit too excited in your sleep and I thought I’d better take care of you. Aren’t I so nice?”

“Y-yeah…” He pants, looking down at his dick and his shorts that were already stained with precum. “Where–where is Beomgyu?”

Your face falls but you quickly school it back into a playful expression, reaching out to tweak his nipple with your fingers. “Running some errands. Why? Can't we have fun without him? Am I not enough?”

Your tone is light, teasing, but there's a quiet ache behind the words—are you too late? Have they already made their decision?

“No, no. You are.” He rests his head back and arches into your touch, giving in. “Just didn’t think you'd be interested in doing this.”

“Silly boy, of course I am interested.” You bend down to wrap your lips around his nipple, making him gasp in shock.

“Fuck, I think I might cum in my shorts if you keep doing that.” He slurs, sweat beading on his forehead and in the dips of his shoulders.

“Oh no, we wouldn’t wanna ruin them now, would we?” You grin, pulling down his shorts and boxers to reveal his red, weeping cock. The touch of the vibrator against his bare skin has him thrashing around, causing the wand to miss his cock repeatedly. “Please, please!” He cries as if he’s not the one making it harder on himself.

“Shhh, calm down, baby. Do you need me to hold it?” You drawl, reaching out to grab his cock with one hand as you press the vibrator directly under the head of his cock with the other, making him lose it, moaning loudly at the intense direct stimulation. “Holy shit, I’m gonna cum. I really need to cum. Can I please cum?”

“Hmm, what if I said no? Will you hold it?” You pretend to actually think about it and he whines in despair. “No, please, I can’t. I feel like I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“Yeah, is it really that bad?” You coo as if you’re talking to a pet, and Soobin nods pitifully. “So bad. Need you so bad. You’re driving me crazy.”

You laugh gleefully. Soobin is so easy. As weak as he is for Beomgyu, he can be for you too. After all, he has never been subtle about his lust for you. Whenever you wear anything even slightly revealing around the house, he openly gawks at you, almost as if he doesn’t realize that you’re able to feel his stare on you and see the boner he half-heartedly tries to hide.

“Aww, poor, baby. I can’t have you lose your mind, now can I?” You tease his slit with your thumb as you increase the speed of the vibrator to maximum, making him arch his back and cry out as his pleasure quickly reaches its peak. “Cum for me, Binnie. Let it all out, baby.”

White hot cum starts spurting from his slit, and you keep the vibrator pressed just under the head of his cock while you use your other hand to jerk him off, milking every last drop from his balls and painting his tummy and chest with it.

“Goood boy.” You coo, marvelling at the amount of cum he lets out, making a right mess of himself.

“Thank you.” He pants meekly, body shaking with the aftershocks of his orgasm and the continued stimulation from the vibrator. Before long, it becomes too much, and he cringes back, “Ah, please, too much.”

You begrudgingly turn off the vibrator and take your hand off him, wishing you could keep his attention on you for a little longer. You run your index finger through the little pool of cum in the dip of his tummy and swirl it around. “Look at the mess you made, baby. Did you need it that bad?” You ask, seeking confirmation from him that he wants you as much as you want him. “Has Beomgyu not been taking care of you?”

“No, he has but…” He throws his arm over his face to hide behind it. “Just wanted you so bad.”

You smile happily and take his arm away, forcing him to face you. This is exactly what you wanted. “You’re so cute.” You bend down to kiss him and he quickly reciprocates, his lips slow and languid, but eager nonetheless, matching your every move but letting you lead.

When you eventually part, he asks, searching your face, “What caused this change of heart? You don't usually initiate these things.”

You shrug, feeling called out. “Can't I think you look hot in your sleep?”

You watch him blush, and you smile, successfully throwing him off your scent. “Hey I wouldn't mind if you woke me up like this every day.”

“I know. I wake up to your boner against my ass every day, remember?” You laugh, and he blushes even deeper, and mumbles, “I haven’t gotten you off yet.”

“No, you didn’t.” You grin, happy at his enthusiasm. “How do you intend to fix that?”

“You could ride my thigh.” He says shyly and you laugh, dutifully taking your pants off and straddling his sweats clad thigh. “Another fantasy of yours?”

He nods, grabbing fistfulls of your ass and helping you grind against the cotton material, not caring about messing it up anymore. In fact, he stares hypnotized as the wet patch grows bigger and bigger with your arousal.

You’ve never thought about this before but it feels surprisingly good, especially as he tenses his thick thigh and uses his large hands to press you firmly against it, your entire pussy getting stimulated at once.

“Fuck, that feels good.” You moan, throwing your head back, and Soobin reaches out to pull the neckline of your tank top over your breasts, exposing them to his hungry eyes.

“Fuck, these are pretty. Wish you'd walk around the house topless from now on.”

“What is it with you boys and tits? You like them that much?” You laugh, making sure to bounce on his thigh a little, making your breasts jiggle from the motion and the horny boy reach for his hardening cock to stroke it.

“Yeah, they’re so fucking sexy.” He groans, fisting his cock in a blur as he encourages you to grind against his thigh faster and harder, the lewd scene getting to his empty head. “Are you close?” He asks, already feeling the desperation, and you nod, biting your lip. “Yes, baby, gonna squirt all over your thigh. You ready for it?

He nods enthusiastically, pinching the head of his cock and squeezing out a few large drops of precum. “Fuck, please, do it. Please.”

You reach out for the discarded vibrator, bringing it to life and pressing it against your clit. It doesn’t take long for you to cry out and cum all over his thigh, your release soaking his sweats and pushing the horny boy over the edge again, except this time, he aims towards you, shooting his cum all over your body, some of it landing on your tits that he loves so much.

“Fuck, that’s so hot.” He groans, reaching out to cup them in his dirty hands, clearly admiring the view.

You’re both so blissed out, that you don’t notice that Beomgyu has come back from his errands and has made his way into the room until he speaks out, his voice playful but with an edge of frustration to it. “Hey, what the hell? You having fun without me?” He makes his way towards the bed, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

He leans in, trying to capture your lips with his but you quickly raise your hand, pushing him back. “I’m beat, Gyu.” Your tone is flat, not allowing for much give and take from him. You don't want him to overtake this moment. You’ve worked too hard for it. You want the only impression of this morning left on Soobin's brain to be just you and how good you can make him feel. You can't have Beomgyu waltzing in and hijacking all your hard work.

He freezes for a moment, clearly thrown off by your unexpected resistance. “That's not fair. How can you expect me to see you both so filthy and covered in Soobin’s cum like this and not get horny?”

“I don't expect anything. You can be horny all you want.” You shrug, the moment feels oddly satisfying. It’s like giving him a taste of his own medicine—making him feel the sting of alienation he has unknowingly inflicted on you too many times.

Beomgyu stands there, stunned, the usual playful energy suddenly replaced by something unreadable. His expression flickers, unsure if you’re joking or serious, and he looks like he’s reconsidering his next move.

“You’re really going to do this to me?” He finally asks, a mix of disbelief and amusement in his voice, as he runs a hand through his hair, trying to put on some of his usual confidence.

You smile faintly, leaning closer, but keeping just enough distance to make your point. “You can jerk off to the thought of my tits. You like doing that, right?”

He steps back, a laugh escaping his lips. “You’re such a fucking tease, you know that?”

“I can help you get off, Beommie.” Soobin offers and you fight to keep the ugly scowl off your face. Damn it, why is Soobin so damn easy?

But to your surprise, Beomgyu declines his offer. “That's okay, baby. You both look exhausted. I'll let it pass this time, but you better wait for me next time.” He jokes, throwing a pointed look at you.

You chew on your lip nervously. You wonder if he can tell what you’re doing. Beomgyu has always been unexpectedly perceptive, after all.

Well, you better hope and pray that he is as easily distracted by some tits like Soobin is.

_____________________

Your chance to make a move on Beomgyu comes when Soobin has a late lecture, leaving you and Beomgyu with some time to kill by yourselves. So you set up a “playdate” with him, luring him in with the promise of playing video games, though you don’t really have to do much to convince him. The boy cannot survive by himself for long, and you suspect it’s because even he will drive himself crazy if left alone with his motor mouth.

You put on a convincing set up of his favourite games and snacks, planning to start off by actually playing for a little bit before you make your move, making it look natural.

But Beomgyu surprises you when he walks into the living room holding a new game in his hands with a proud smile on his face. “Babe, look what I got!”

You glance up from the couch, raising an eyebrow. The game wasn’t something he would normally be into—it was your favorite genre, not his. You’d talked about it a few times, how much you were looking forward to playing it, but it was clear Beomgyu wasn’t particularly excited about the idea of it.

“Huh,” You mumble in confusion, not expecting this. "You don’t even like this game, though."

Beomgyu grins, his eyes glinting with that playful, confident spark. “I know, but you’d talked my ear off so much about it that I figured the only way to get you to shut up is to buy it for you.”

You couldn’t help the massive smile on your face at the unexpected gift. It wasn’t that Beomgyu didn’t do sweet things for you, but this was something different. You know how serious and particular he is about his games. He likes the ones he likes and never bothers with the ones he doesn't. So for him to go out of his way to get you something only you liked, means a lot despite how trivial it may seem to others.

Still, you can’t resist teasing him just a little. "You really wanted to suck up to me, huh?" You say, a sly grin tugging at your lips.

He shrugs nonchalantly, his smile never faltering. "Maybe," He says with a wink, his voice playful. "What can I say, I’m willing to suffer through this to make you happy. I’m hopelessly romantic and a perfect gentleman like that."

You chuckle, shaking your head, but secretly, you were touched by the effort. “Maybe next time, I’ll get you one of the stupid and clearly inferior games you like so much.”.

“Deal. But for now, why don’t give it a try and I’ll try to not die from boredom.”

You start the game, and before long, the two of you fall into a teasing, comfortable rhythm. You poke fun at each other for the mistakes you make—him more often than you—offering tips and laughing at each other’s blunders. The playful banter fills the space, and for a while, it’s just the two of you, lost in the ease of the moment. You forget about soulmates, eternal love, and the nagging fear of being left behind.

You’re having so much fun that you end up playing longer than you’d planned. Beomgyu is loud—his laughter is constant, infectious, and he yells at the TV seemingly every two seconds as if that would help your characters play better. He makes a big deal out of everything, and it’s impossible not to be caught up in it. Every moment with him is larger than life, filled with energy and excitement.

You can just picture a life spent with him, never a dull moment. You imagine your children thriving in that chaos, their lives full of his boundless energy. They would love him so much. He would be such a fun dad.

Your heart flutters at the thought of him as your husband and the father of your children. But is that the life you really want? Constant chaos, never a quiet moment to call your own?

You steal a quick glance at Beomgyu, but he catches you, his eyes meeting yours with a knowing look. “What?” he teases, flashing his signature lopsided smile at you.

“You’re loud,” You blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, and immediately feel silly. Beomgyu rolls his eyes dramatically, tossing his controller aside before leaning forward, his grin growing wider as he looms over you.

“Is that all?” He asks, face mere inches from yours. You don’t know why his straightforwardness was making you so nervous. You’ve wanted this exact outcome out of this hangout anyway, but why are you now suddenly acting like your intentions had been innocent?

“Yes.” You mutter, turning your head back towards the game, but if you thought that might deter Beomgyu then you were sorely mistaken. If anything, he uses this opportunity to press his face into the crook of your neck and pepper your skin in kisses.

“Beomgyu…” You whine, goosebumps bursting all over your skin. “You’re gonna make us lose.”

“Who cares? Aren’t you done already?” He huffs, one of his hands grabbing your thigh as he sucks on your sensitive skin. “Want you to pay attention to me.”

“Stop it. I’m trying to play the game.” You keep up your act, not wanting to appear too eager. Beomgyu is more perceptive than Soobin, and if you give in too easily, he might be able to tell that you’re up to something.

“Why? Do you only mess around with Soobin?” He snorts, trailing his hand between your legs to cup your heat, making you jump. “I want some attention too.”

“But I’m not done playing.” Your heart rate picks up at the hint of jealousy in his voice but you keep pretending as if the game in front of you wasn’t just a blur of colours and sounds, your real focus on his hot lips against your neck and his long fingers rubbing against your pussy.

“Then keep playing and I’ll keep playing too.” He says, pushing your shorts down your legs before pulling them onto the couch, splaying them open so he can stick his face between them and give your underwear-clad pussy a few chaste kisses.

“Beomgyu, I’m serious…” You warn, your voice anything but, yet Beomgyu–whether playing along or too desperate to notice–still falls for it.

“Please, baby. You don’t have to do anything. You don’t even have to stop playing. Just please let me have this.” He licks a long stripe along your covered slit before pressing a few kisses against your clit.

“Fuck, Beomgyu.” You grit, feeling your legs shake already. You hazard a quick glance down at him, your chest bursting into flames at the sight of him looking up at you from between your legs like a horny pup.

“Just focus on the game, baby, and let me make you feel good.” He persuades, pushing your now drenched underwear to the side so his tongue can access your pussy directly, and you fight to keep your legs from clamping around his head at the sudden spike in pleasure.

“Fuck.” You curse under your breath, trying to bring your attention back to the game and making a miserable effort at it. The heat pooling inside you from where Beomgyu was kissing and licking at your most sensitive spots is distracting, sending a rush of warmth through your veins, making your head spin and your ears ring.

The room quickly fills up with a mix of your breathy moans, the obscene sounds of Beomgyu’s wet kisses against your soaking pussy, and the nearly forgotten video game. You try to keep your focus on it but you give up when, out of the corner of your eyes, you see his hips working in tandem with his mouth, rocking against the couch underneath.

“Are you seriously humping the couch right now? How pathetic.” You mock, acting as if your arousal is not currently dripping down his chin. But since when has Beomgyu been shy about his horniness? No, he meets your gaze straight on and says, “I’d be happy to stop humping the couch and bury my cock in your pussy any time you want, baby.”

“Shut up.” You mutter, flustered at his brashness, but you can’t keep up the pretense for long, not when he pushes his tongue into your pussy and nuzzles your clit with his nose, completely burying himself in you. You have never had anything inside of you before, and the feeling of Beomgyu’s wet, rough tongue every so slightly brushing against your inner walls has you finally abandoning the game and throwing away the controller so you can pull your shirt up and play with your breasts while he tongue-fucks your pussy.

“Fuck, you made me lose. You better make it up to me, brat.” You push his face into your pussy further, and for a second you worry that you might be hurting him, but when you look down you see that your roughness just excites him, his hips driving into the couch faster.

And he does make it up to you. He is so inexplicably good at this, and you hate how easily he drags you towards the edge, as if he has done this many times before, his tongue knowing exactly how to lap and curl to have you gushing, his lips knowing exactly where to kiss and suck to have you whole body seize up, and before long, your panting like you’ve run a marathon and can see the finish line in sight.

“Beomgyu! Beomgyu!” You cry out, crashing into your orgasm, unable to hold yourself back anymore from clamping your thighs around his head. Not that Beomgyu cares, continuing to literally lap up everything you give him until he has sucked you dry.

“Oh god,” You shudder, pushing him away from your pussy. He lets you do it, using the opportunity to kiss up your body instead until he makes it to your lips, making you have a taste of your own need on his tongue.

“Did I make it up to you?” He asks, raising a hand to your chest to roughly grope your tits.

“Maybe.” You breathe out, the shakiness of your voice betraying you.

“Well then maybe you can help me out too.” He says, pointedly bucking his cock against your pussy.

“Hmm, I don’t know if it was that good.”

“Not that good? You almost smothered me with your pussy.” He scoffs and you blush. “Don’t get me wrong, I would have died a happy man, but not that good, my ass.”

You roll your eyes at him, pushing a hand between your bodies to grab his dick and jerk him off. “There, are you happy?”

He closes his eyes for a moment, seemingly savouring your touch, but then he opens them again and asks, “Come on, I just let you hump my face and all you’re gonna give me is a lousy handjob? At least suck me off or let me fuck these perfect tits.” He kneads your breasts with his hands while he bucks into your grip despite his protests. “God, if my soulmate has tits like this, I wouldn’t be able to keep my dick out of her.”

He wraps his lips around them, kissing and sucking them desperately, but your mind lingers on his words. Her? Does he think he’ll get a female soulmate then? Could it possibly be you…

“Okay.” You answer in a small voice but Beomgyu’s eager ears pick it up, and he quickly climbs over you so he’s straddling your upper body, leering down at you with dark lust in his eyes.

“Push your tits together for me, baby.” He instructs you and you bashfully do it, looking away. “Fuck you're such a pretty whore.”

“Beomgyu.” You frown, chastising him as he rocks his hips forward, fucking his cock between your breasts.

“Shhh, it's okay, baby. You’re my whore.” He tells you, and as you open your mouth to protest his possessive proclamation, he uses the opportunity to push his cock into your mouth, getting to fuck your tits and your mouth all in one. “Fuck, that’s it. That’s just what I wanted.”

You frown up at him but don’t push him off. He’s looking down at you like he’s drunk off you, and isn’t that exactly what you wanted? You may not have maintained the upper hand but the way he’s looking at you like you hold his balls in your hands is enough to justify letting him do this.

“Yeah, keep looking at me. You look so sexy with my cock in your mouth.” He continues to spit filth at you, his cock thrusting between your breasts and right into your open mouth, the pleasure clearly getting to his head if the bleary look in his eyes or the whiny tinge to his voice is any indication. You’ve got him in the palm of your hand and you didn’t even have to try. He did it all for you.

“Say you want it, baby. Tell me you want my cum in your pretty mouth.”

“Beo–gyuuu–” You slur, barely able to speak with his cock filling your mouth over and over again.

“Come on, baby. You let Soobinie cover you with his cum. It is only fair for you to swallow down mine.” He coaxes, continuing to play with your breasts with his hands as he feeds you his cock. You glare up at him but really you’re loving it. This is exactly what you wanted, the boys vying for your attention.

“Do it, please.” He begs, desperation growing more clear the longer you take to give in. Whether he knows that that would get him what he wants or he simply got lucky, you don’t know but the shiver of pleasure that zaps through you at his pathetic whimpers gets you to finally give in, looking up at him with lustful eyes and begging him oh-so-sweetly, “Please, cum in my mouth, Beommie. Wanna taste you at the back of my throat.”

“Fuck–” He cries, grabbing your hair to steady your head and slamming his cock into your mouth, giving you exactly what you asked for. Your throat closes up around the intrusion and your eyelashes brim with tears but the look of ecstasy on Beomgyu’s face makes it all worth it. “Holy shit, you’re s-so goood…” He whines, emptying part of his load at the back of your throat before he pulls out to finish on your face, jerking himself off into overstimulation just so he can give you every last drop of his cum, covering your face in his hot, sticky seed while your mouth was filled with the salty taste of him.

“Shit,” he breathes, his thumb gliding over your swollen lips. “You’re so pretty,” he murmurs, voice low, almost reverent.

You scoff weakly, turning your head away, your hair clinging to your skin with sweat and cum making you feel anything but beautiful. “Shut up. I must look disgusting right now.”

But Beomgyu doesn’t relent. Instead, he reaches out, fingers brushing against your skin as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“No,” he whispers, gaze full of adoration. “You’re beautiful. The most beautiful girl in the world. And you’re mine.”

His words stun you and you blink rapidly, trying to make sense of what is happening. What the fuck is he trying to do? Has he been playing the same game you’ve just now started to play all this time?

Your stomach swirls with a confusing mix of happiness, suspicion and guilt, making you nauseous. “Beomgyu… You need to stop saying stuff like that.”

He frowns, confusion flickering across his face. “What stuff? That you’re mine? That I love you?”

You suck in a sharp breath, defensive walls springing up around you in alarm. “Yes. You can’t keep saying that to me and Soobin. You’re gonna get one of us seriously hurt.”

“Sorry, I am not a fucking coward.” Beomgyu looks pissed off, as if you’re the one making wild and dangerous proclamations. “I’m just saying what we’re all thinking. One of us is going to get hurt anyway, and it could be me. But I’d rather face that than live with the regret of never letting you know how I feel, of not savoring this while it lasts.”

His words hang oppressively between you, even after the intensity is long gone from his face and his eyes take on a pitiful look. They search yours desperately, pleading for something you’re not sure is okay to give.

“Will you say it back?,” He presses, his voice trembling. “Tell me I’m not crazy.”

You hesitate. The words seem so simple…I love you–they should come easily. You’ve said them many times before, light and carefree. But now they carry a double meaning–no longer are they just an expression of unbreakable friendship… Now they hide behind them a world of heartbreak and hurt, waiting to pounce on you and tear you apart, starting with this moment as Beomgyu continues to stare at you with hope and anticipation.

You can’t withhold the words from him, and maybe you’re being stupid, trading the small hurt of holding back now for the much bigger pain of possibly taking it away later. But at this moment, you can’t bring yourself to do it. Not when he looks at you like he won’t be able to breathe if you don’t say it.

“I love you too,” You swallow hard, the words barely escaping your lips, but Beomgyu accepts them eagerly, his face lighting up, the tension fading from his features. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

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A/N: the plot is finally start to plot lol what do you guys think so far

#txt smut #beomgyu smut #soobin smut #sub!reader #dom!reader #sub!idol #dom!idol #sub!beomgyu #dom!beomgyu #sub!soobin #not done yet with other fic but can't wait any longer

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