#and when helped finally arrived it was too late

[wongyuseokie]

Theories & Heartstrings | k.m.g

Chapter 2: Cuddles and Chaos

Summary: As a writer with a mildly cynical take on love, you’ve always believed people have a “type”—a pattern they never stray from when it comes to dating. And Kim Mingyu? He’s the textbook definition of someone who wouldn’t go for someone like you, nor would you go for him. But you test your theory when a fateful run-in with your charming neighbour sparks an unexpected attraction.

The plan? Go on dates with him and count how many it takes before your heart gets involved—if it ever does. But Mingyu is unpredictable, effortlessly breaking down your carefully constructed walls with every smile, every late-night conversation, every moment that feels too easy to be just an experiment.

The real problem? Secrets never stay secrets for long. And when Mingyu finds out the truth behind your so-called theory, will it prove you right, or that love doesn’t follow the rules you thought it did?

☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ☁︎ angst | ♕smut

Word Count: 16,477 words

Pairings: Neighbor! Mingyu x Journalist! Female Reader

Genre/Trope(s)/AU(s): Neighbours AU! Fake Dating AU! (but only one is fake dating. It’ll make sense when you read it, lol). Non-Idol AU!. 

Content Warnings: There is slight body insecurity—it’s not much, but it’s a smidgen. She just feels insecure after seeing a pretty girl, but there is nothing graphic or too triggering. some jealousy (lies) ALOT of jealousy and petty ass fighting and just alot of drama. Alcohol consumption, food consumption. drama because yn thinks he’s cheating and he’s not she just wont let him explain. very heavy on the miscommunication. LOTS OF DRAMA, BUT YES THE STORY IS FINALLY BREWING HEHEHEH. LOTS OF ANGST AND HURT.

Smut Warnings: shower sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, big dick mingyu because duh. teasing, lots of it, mingyu is just so hot and yn is only human. facesitting because yay. very slight ass play, very slight. lots of sex ig, they're very horny. Author's Note 1: I'd be remiss if I didn't thank the lovely people who helped beta this monster of a story. thank you @lovetaroandtaemin @nebulousbrainsoup @strxwberry-skiess for your patience time and love thank you guys so much!! Author's Note 2: welp here it is guys my last fic, ever, but good news, this is only chapter 2, and the rate at which i keep increasing my word count, it'll be a while before this is all over. Series Masterlist

The following week had flown by, and before you knew it, the evening of the housewarming party had arrived. You found yourself in Mingyu’s kitchen, sleeves rolled up, meticulously pouring in the limes into the jug as while your other hand stirred a jug of freshly made cocktail mix. The sweet and citrusy aroma filled the room, and you couldn’t help but hum to yourself as you mixed the ingredients, tasting it with a little spoon to make sure it was just right.

In the living room, Mingyu was moving furniture around, occasionally stopping to check his phone for the playlist he had put together. You glanced over at him, watching as he adjusted the position of the coffee table for what had to be the third time.

“Gyu, it’s a housewarming, not a photo shoot,” you teased, grinning when he shot you a mock glare.

“It has to look nice,” he replied, half-serious, half-amused. “I can’t have people thinking I live like a caveman. Plus, Seokmin and Cheol will literally roast me if the place doesn’t look good.”

You laughed, wiping your hands on a towel before grabbing the cocktail shaker. “Trust me, no one’s going to notice the coffee table’s angle when they’re tipsy off these drinks. I’m making a batch of margaritas and something fruity for the lightweights.”

Mingyu raised an eyebrow. “Are you calling me a lightweight?”

You smirked. “I’ve seen you after a couple of shots. You’re definitely not the heavyweight you think you are.”

He put a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “That’s a bold claim. I’ll prove you wrong tonight.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “Sure, big guy. We’ll see who’s carrying who to bed later.”

Mingyu paused from his rearranging to lean against the doorway, watching you with a soft smile. “You look really cute when you’re bossing me around in my own apartment; you know that?”

You gave him a playful glare. “I’m just making sure this place doesn’t become a disaster zone. Someone has to keep you in check.”

He chuckled, walking over to help you slice the remaining fruit. “I’ll admit, I’m not the best party planner. You make it look easy.”

You shrugged, pouring the freshly mixed cocktail into a large glass dispenser. “It’s all about preparation. If you keep everyone’s glasses full, they’re happy. And if you have good snacks, they’ll never want to leave.”

Mingyu nodded, watching you expertly garnish the glasses with lime wedges and salt rims. “You’re a natural. Maybe you should be in charge of a ll our parties.”

You shot him a look. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want to do any of the work.”

He leaned in closer, his shoulder brushing yours. “Maybe. Or maybe I just like watching you take charge. It’s... pretty hot.”

You bit back a smile, trying to focus on not spilling the drink you were pouring. “Save that energy for later. We’ve got a party to run.”

Mingyu smirked, finally relenting and heading back to finish hanging some lights above the window. You couldn’t help but glance at him as he stretched to hook the string of fairy lights, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of toned skin. You shook your head, focusing back on the drinks.

After a few more minutes, Mingyu stepped back, admiring his handiwork. “Perfect. This place looks great. You think it’s good?”

You took a step back, surveying the room. The living room looked cozy yet lively, the fairy lights giving a warm glow, and the cocktail station was well-stocked. “It’s perfect. You did good.”

He looked at you, a hint of pride in his eyes. “We did good.”

You grinned, handing him a small glass of the margarita mix. “Taste test?”

He took a sip, eyes widening. “Okay, that’s dangerous. It’s way too good. People will be wasted in no time.”

“That’s the plan,” you joked, taking a small sip yourself and savouring the tangy flavour.

Mingyu took the opportunity to drape an arm over your shoulder, pulling you into his side. “You know, you didn’t have to go all out. But I really appreciate it.”

You leaned into him, your head resting against his chest for a moment. “I just wanted to make it nice. It’s your first party here, and I wanted it to feel special.”

He kissed the top of your head. “It already does. Because you’re here.”

You looked up at him, catching the fondness in his gaze. For a moment, you forgot about the party entirely, lost in the way his eyes softened when they met yours.

After making sure the cocktails were perfectly set up and the living room was finally arranged to Mingyu’s satisfaction, you stretched your arms over your head and glanced at the clock.

“Alright, I should probably go back to my place and shower, get ready,” you said, wiping your hands on the dish towel and giving Mingyu a small smile.

He looked up from where he was fiddling with a Bluetooth speaker, his brows lifting. “You’re not just gonna rock the oversized T-shirt and sweatpants look to the party?”

You snorted. “As tempting as that sounds, I don’t think your friends would appreciate my just-rolled-out-of-bed aesthetic.”

He smirked, eyes trailing over you for a moment longer than necessary. “I dunno, I think it’s pretty cute.”

Your cheeks warmed, but you kept your cool. “I’ll be back in a bit. Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone.”

Mingyu shot you a cheeky salute. “No promises.”

You rolled your eyes and headed out the door, crossing the hall back to your own apartment. Once inside, you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. Being around Mingyu for too long was like standing too close to a fire — all-consuming and just a little too hot to handle. After grabbing a clean towel and some comfy clothes, you made your way to the bathroom. As the hot water poured down, you couldn’t help but replay moments from earlier. The way Mingyu had looked at you while you were making cocktails, how his touch lingered just a bit longer than usual. You bit your lip to hide the stupid smile spreading across your face.

Once you’d washed away the sweat and stress of the afternoon, you wrapped yourself in a towel and headed back to your bedroom, still combing through your wet hair with your fingers. You opened your closet, glancing through your options and mumbling to yourself.

“Something cute, but not too dressy... not too casual either... ugh.”

You’d barely pulled out a dress to inspect it when a knock sounded at your door. You froze for a second, heart racing. Quickly making sure the towel was secure, you called out. “One sec!”

You tiptoed over, peeking through the peephole to see Mingyu standing on the other side, looking far too relaxed in his own sweats and a plain white T-shirt. You cracked open the door, peering out. “Gyu? What are you doing here?”

He grinned, holding up a plastic bag. “I realized I have no mixers left, so I raided your fridge. Thought I’d be polite and ask first.”

You gave him a look. “You couldn’t just text me?” Mingyu just shrugged. “I wanted to make sure you didn’t fall asleep or something. Plus, you left your phone on my counter.”

You glanced at his hand and sure enough, your phone was right there. You huffed a laugh, reaching out to take it. “Thanks.”

His eyes flicked over you, and you suddenly remembered that you were still just in your towel. You tightened it instinctively, a little heat creeping up your neck. Mingyu didn’t seem to notice your discomfort — or if he did, he was doing a great job of hiding it.

He cleared his throat. “You, uh, smell good.”

You couldn’t help but smirk. “Shampoo. You should try it sometime.”

He narrowed his eyes playfully. “Rude. I smell great.”

You leaned against the doorframe, raising an eyebrow. “Debatable.”

Mingyu gave you that lopsided grin you’d come to love. “Anyway, I’ll get out of your hair. Just wanted to let you know about the mixer situation. Also... you need help picking an outfit?”

You hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. “Sure. Might as well get a second opinion.”

He perked up instantly, stepping inside without hesitation. You led him to your room, keeping a grip on your robe just in case. You motioned to the dress hanging on your closet door. “What do you think of this one?”

Mingyu eyed it thoughtfully, then shook his head. “Too fancy. You’d look amazing, but it’s a bit much for a house party.”

“It’s not formal,” he said as he crossed to your closet. “Just wear whatever makes you feel hot.”

“I want to look good,” you replied, brushing past him to rifle through your wardrobe.

“You always look good,” he muttered, eyes following the sway of your robe.

You didn’t notice his stare until you let the robe drop from your shoulders and reached for your bra.

Mingyu froze. “Fuck.”

You jumped slightly, realising a second too late that you were now standing completely bare in front of him.

“Sorry—I forgot I was only wearing this.”

Mingyu stood behind you, voice low. “Let me help.”

You swallowed thickly, nodding.

He moved with precision, sliding your panties up your legs, guiding them gently into place. You were keenly aware of every brush of his fingers against your skin. When he reached for the dress, you muttered. “I need a bra.”

“No, you don’t,” he said without missing a beat, his hands moving up to your chest, thumbs brushing gently across your nipples.

“Right now, I definitely don’t.”

He helped you into the dress, tugging the fabric into place and smoothing it over your hips.

“Perfect,” he said, voice husky.

You turned to face him, narrowing your eyes. “You’re such a horndog.”

“You’re just so fucking irresistible,” he murmured, pushing you down gently onto the bed. ~~ A half hour later, after some very distracting ‘help’ with your outfit, you were at Mingyu’s apartment, helping set up the drink table and food.

“Y/N,” Seokmin greeted with a warm grin. “You look amazing.”

“She does,” Mingyu said proudly. “I helped her get dressed.”

You gave him a warning glare.

Seokmin smirked. “I’m surprised you didn’t just try to get her out of it.”

You turned hid shyly behind Mingyu, who, bless him, actually looked sheepish.

“Hey, did you hear? Mia’s coming later. She just texted me.” Seokmin added. 

Mingyu raised a brow, pausing mid-step. “Really? She’s back in town?”

Seokmin nodded, barely containing his excitement. “Yeah, she’s visiting for a few weeks. Said she’ll swing by tonight if she finishes up early.”

Mingyu chuckled, shaking his head. “Of course she would. It’s been ages since she’s hung out with everyone.”

You tried to keep your expression neutral, but the name “Mia” stirred something bitter in your stomach. You glanced at Mingyu, trying to gauge his reaction, but he just seemed relaxed and happy about the news.

“Oh, right. Mia.” You forced a smile, taking another sip of your cocktail. “She’s... a friend of yours?”

Mingyu nodded, still grinning. “Yeah, we go way back. She’s pretty tight with the guys, too. Used to hang out all the time before she moved.”

You hummed noncommittally, trying not to show how that made you feel. The rational part of your brain knew that Mia was just a friend, but the way Seokmin seemed thrilled and Mingyu didn’t look the least bit uneasy was enough to twist something sharp in your chest.

“Man, Mingyu, remember that one time Mia convinced you to sing at that karaoke bar? Absolute disaster.” Seokmin burst into laughter, and Mingyu rolled his eyes with a smile.

“She was the one who picked a ballad for me. She set me up for failure,” Mingyu grumbled, though there was no real annoyance in his voice.

You couldn’t help but chime in, voice a little colder than you intended. “Sounds like you two were close.”

Mingyu glanced at you, noting the tightness in your tone, but Seokmin just kept laughing. “Oh, they were! Mia and Mingyu were basically inseparable at one point. He had such a crush on her, would look at her with heart eyes.”

You raised an eyebrow, the words sticking to you like burrs. You wanted to ask more, but you couldn’t bring yourself to sound interested. Instead, you took another long sip of your drink, pretending to focus on the music rather than the irritation bubbling up inside you.

Seokmin seemed oblivious to your change in mood, but Mingyu wasn’t. He nudged you lightly with his shoulder. “You okay?”

You plastered on a smile. “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, clearly not buying it. “You sure?”

You shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “It’s just... interesting, that’s all. Didn’t realize you had such... close friends around here.”

Mingyu blinked, clearly confused by your shift in demeanor. “Well, yeah. I mean, Mia’s been part of the group for a long time. It’s not a big deal.”

“Right,” you replied, forcing a bright smile. “Not a big deal.”

Mingyu gave you a slightly exasperated look, like he knew you were holding something back but didn’t want to push. “You’re acting weird.”

“Am not,” you said, trying to sound breezy but probably failing miserably. “I just didn’t realize you had karaoke buddies. Next time, you’ll have to take me.”

Seokmin snorted. “Oh, trust me, you don’t want that. Mingyu’s voice could probably clear a room.”

Mingyu shot him a glare. “You’re one to talk, Seok.”

But you were too wrapped up in your own thoughts to laugh. Suddenly, the idea of Mia just waltzing in, sharing inside jokes and old stories, made your skin itch. You hated how petty you felt. You knew logically that Mia was probably just a friend, but the casual way Mingyu talked about her like she was some great part of his past grated on your nerves.

You didn’t want to look jealous. You didn’t want to act childish. But the frustration kept prickling under your skin, making you more and more irritable. When Mingyu reached out to brush his hand over yours, you pulled away, pretending to adjust your shirt.

Mingyu’s smile faltered. “Okay...”

You cleared your throat, glancing at Seokmin, who was still happily oblivious. “I should go check on the snacks. Make sure we’re not running out.”

Without waiting for a response, you hurried off to the kitchen, your heart pounding. You knew it was silly, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe you weren’t quite as special to Mingyu as you thought.

Back in the living room, Mingyu frowned, watching you leave. Seokmin nudged him, completely missing the tension. “You good, man?”

Mingyu sighed, eyes still on the kitchen doorway. “Yeah... I just don’t get it. One minute she’s fine, the next she’s acting like I did something wrong.”

Seokmin gave a low chuckle. “She’s jealous, you idiot.”

Mingyu’s eyes widened. “Jealous? Of Mia?”

Seokmin nodded sagely, patting his friend’s shoulder. “Oh, definitely. And you’re too dumb to notice.”

Mingyu opened his mouth to protest, but then realization dawned on his face, and he couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his lips. “She’s jealous...”

Seokmin smirked. “Yeah, and if you want to keep your head intact, maybe go check on her before she decides to break one of your precious cocktail glasses.”

Mingyu didn’t need telling twice. He got up and made his way to the kitchen, determined to figure out exactly what was going on in your head.

You were elbow-deep in a bowl of popcorn when you heard footsteps approach from behind. You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was—Mingyu’s quiet but certain walk was becoming something you could recognise even over the hum of your own sulky thoughts.

He leaned against the fridge, arms crossed, watching you in silence for a beat. You didn’t look up.

“Hey.” His voice was low, almost hesitant.

You kept your eyes trained on the bowl as you stirred. “Hey.”

“Are we gonna talk about whatever that was?” Mingyu asked, voice laced with more confusion than annoyance.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and gave a half-hearted shrug. “It’s nothing.”

“It didn’t look like nothing,” he replied, stepping closer. “You kind of acted like I told you I still loved my ex or something.”

You dropped the popcorn scoop with a clatter,

Before the words could escalate into something sharp, the kitchen door creaked open, and in walked Joshua with a slice of pizza and a poorly timed smile. “Oh, hey. Didn’t mean to interrupt the brooding.”

You didn’t say anything. Mingyu gave a tired smile, barely there.

Joshua bit into his pizza. “So, uh… you two aren’t fighting about the Wonwoo thing, are you?”

The silence after that was deafening.

You blinked slowly. Mingyu’s eyes didn’t leave you. “What thing?”

Joshua’s mouth froze mid-chew. “Wait. You didn’t know?”

“Joshua,” you warned.

Mingyu’s voice was quiet. “What thing?”

Joshua grimaced. “I thought she told you. It was just… a kiss. One kiss. Before you two—” He waved the pizza vaguely.

“Joshua,” you snapped again.

“I’m just gonna… go,” Joshua said, already backing out the door. “You guys got this.”

The door clicked shut.

You turned to Mingyu slowly. “I was going to tell you.”

His brow furrowed. “And yet… you didn’t.”

“I didn’t want it to ruin things.”

“You think that’s how trust works?” He asked, his voice even. Too even. “You just edit the truth when it’s inconvenient?”

“I didn’t mean to hide it,” you said, stepping forward slightly. “I was scared.”

“Of what? Me?” Mingyu let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “I’ve been nothing but honest with you. And you keep giving me the edited version of everything.”

“It was just a kiss.”

“It was a lie of omission,” he said. “Which sucks worse.”

You didn’t respond. There was nothing to say that wouldn’t sound like an excuse.

Mingyu rubbed the back of his neck. “I need to cool off.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

He lingered for a second, looking like he wanted to say more. But then he just turned and walked back toward the living room, slipping seamlessly into the laughter and noise of the party like nothing happened.

You stayed in the kitchen, hands braced on the counter, trying to steady your breathing.

No crying. Not here. Not now.

After a few minutes, you straightened up, smoothed your dress, and followed the hum of music back into the party.

The music had shifted to something warmer, deeper—bass-heavy and slow, perfect for the cozy, slightly overcrowded atmosphere of the living room. Fairy lights strung above cast soft amber glows, and bodies moved through the space with ease, cups in hand, voices rising in laughter and inside jokes. You were leaning against the arm of the couch, watching the party unfold with a drink balanced delicately in your hand, half-smiling at Seokmin's loud declaration that he was the “unofficial DJ of vibes.” Mingyu was across the room, perched on the arm of a chair, laughing with someone you didn't know—his expression open, relaxed, like the kitchen conversation hadn’t happened at all. Like he hadn’t looked at you two hours ago like he wanted to scream.

You were still reeling, replaying the way he’d pulled away from you when Joshua dropped that half-truth bomb in the kitchen. The way his face had shifted, gone taut with a kind of disappointment you didn’t know how to soothe. He hadn’t said much after. Just, “I need to go back out there,” before brushing past you, leaving you holding a bowl of popcorn like it had offended him personally.

You'd rejoined the party five minutes later, after touching up your makeup and trying to will your breathing back into something calm. Now, you nursed your cocktail and kept one eye on Mingyu as he drifted from conversation to conversation.

Then the front door swung open.

“Mia!” Seungcheol called from somewhere near the stereo, his voice rising with familiarity and welcome.

Your stomach tightened before you even saw her.

Mia stepped into the apartment like she belonged there, hair tucked perfectly behind one ear, wearing a burgundy two-piece that fit her like sin. She laughed as she kicked off her shoes, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on Mingyu.

And he lit up.

His smile reached all the way to his eyes, soft and immediate. She crossed the room with purpose, and before you could blink, her arms were around his neck.

It wasn’t a polite hug. It wasn’t a ���hey, long time” side hug. It was full-bodied, both arms thrown around him as she pressed her cheek to his shoulder. Mingyu hugged her back just as tightly, one hand curling behind her head, fingers slipping into her hair with practised ease.

You didn’t realise you’d stopped breathing until Seokmin’s voice startled you. “You okay?”

You blinked and nodded too quickly. “Yeah, totally. Just—want a refill.”

“You haven’t finished that one.”

“Then make it stronger,” you said, shoving your cup toward him.

Seokmin raised an eyebrow but took it. “Okay, but I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just sound like you walked out of a rom-com’s dramatic midpoint.”

You didn’t answer. You were too busy watching Mingyu and Mia finally pull apart, only for her to say something that made him laugh—a real laugh, the kind he used to make at your dumb jokes, when things were easier and fewer secrets lived between your ribs.

Then she leaned in and whispered something in his ear.

And he didn’t flinch. He just grinned and nodded.

You looked away, forcing a tight smile as Seokmin handed you back your cup.

“Trouble in paradise?” He asked, trying to keep it light.

You didn’t take the bait. “Do you think Mia always looks like that on purpose, or is it just genetic cruelty?”

He blinked. “Wow. Okay. That’s the gin talking.”

“No, that’s me. The gin just amplifies it.” You took a long sip. “Cheers to that.”

Seokmin gave you a look, like he wanted to ask more, but someone called him over to the speakers, and he gave you a mock salute before turning away.

You glanced back toward Mingyu. He was still talking to Mia, though his eyes flicked to you for a brief second.

And you didn’t smile.

You turned on your heel, heading for the kitchen again—not because you needed anything, but because you couldn’t stand the way your chest ached when he looked like he belonged to someone else.

Or worse—like maybe he did. ~~ You didn’t move right away.

The muffled bass from the living room thrummed through the floor. Laughter and glasses clinking together floated just beneath it. The hum of the party was still alive, unaware that something in you had started to dim.

Still, you couldn’t hide in the kitchen forever.

You smoothed down your top, pressed your fingertips against your cheeks to chase away the warmth, and grabbed a drink that wasn’t yours but felt earned all the same. Steeling your nerves, you walked back into the crowd.

It didn’t take long to spot him.

Mingyu was leaning against the back of the couch, drink in hand, smiling politely while nodding along to something Mia was saying. She looked even prettier up close — black heels, glossy hair, a red lip that said I’m effortlessly bold and know it. His head tipped slightly when she laughed.

Your stomach twisted.

Then he looked up.

And saw you.

There was a beat — a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes — before he set his glass down and motioned you over. You hesitated for a second too long, and he seemed to register it. Still, he crossed the space between you with ease.

“Hey,” he said, voice low. “You okay?”

You nodded, pasting on a soft smile. “Fine.”

“Good.” He reached for your hand — the smallest gesture — and laced his fingers with yours before leading you back across the room. “Come meet Mia properly.”

You swallowed, your steps a little too careful as you followed him. He brought you to her like he was presenting something special, and the way he held onto your hand didn’t go unnoticed.

“Mia, this is Y/N,” he said, voice lighter now. “My... neighbour.”

You blinked. Not friend. Not girl I’ve been having sex and confusing and half-falling for. Just neighbour.

You stretched a smile across your face anyway. “Hi.”

Mia returned it with a polite one of her own, eyes flicking from you to Mingyu’s hand wrapped around yours. “Oh, the girl with the bonsai.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Word travels fast.”

Mingyu coughed. “She may or may not have almost knocked me out with it.”

“I thought it was your nose she almost broke?” Mia added helpfully. “He mentioned it.”

You fought the urge to glare.

“Well,” Mia said, her smile widening a little, “it’s nice to finally meet you. I was starting to think you were a myth.”

You tilted your head. “Nope, all real.”

Mia let out a soft laugh and sipped her drink. “Touché.”

The three of you stood there for a moment, the silence awkward and polite and loaded.

You took a long sip of your drink after Mia drifted off to speak with someone else, your eyes trailing Mingyu across the room. He was back by the speakers now, joking with Seokmin and refilling his glass. You forced yourself to look away and joined a small group by the coffee table, feigning ease even though your shoulders hadn’t dropped since the moment Mingyu introduced you as his neighbor.

More people had arrived since you stepped away — the apartment was buzzing now, with drinks in hand and snacks being passed around. Joshua was animatedly telling a story in the corner, Wonwoo had somehow found his way to the balcony with a group of indie music lovers, and Seokmin was weaving through the crowd with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

He hopped onto the armrest of the couch and clapped his hands together.

“Alright, folks,” Seokmin grinned, drink raised like a toast. “We’ve reached that point in the night. Time for a little organized chaos.”

Groans and cheers rose around the room.

“No, no — none of that,” he laughed. “We’re playing a classic. ‘Never Have I Ever.’ Drinks up, voices loud, and shame on full display.”

“I hate you,” Seungcheol said, already sinking into the beanbag chair with a resigned sigh.

Seokmin ignored him. “Circle up! Gyu, Mia, you’re not escaping either. C’mon.”

You hesitated for a beat, but found yourself being pulled by Joshua toward the quickly forming circle in the living room. Mingyu caught your eye across the room. His mouth curved into a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes again.

He sat down beside Mia.

You took a spot beside Joshua.

“Alright, alright,” Seokmin said, once everyone was gathered. “House rules apply — if you have done the thing, you take a sip. If you haven’t, you survive with your dignity. Sound good?”

“Define dignity,” someone muttered, already laughing.

Mingyu took a long sip of his drink before glancing at Mia. She nudged him playfully with her shoulder.

“Fine,” Seokmin said dramatically. “I’ll start. Never have I ever… stolen someone’s underwear after a hook-up.”

A chorus of laughter broke out, along with a few gasps. Mingyu actually choked on his drink.

Joshua groaned. “Seokmin, for god’s sake.”

A few people hesitantly drank. You raised an eyebrow at Wonwoo, who kept his glass suspiciously still.

The game rolled on — the questions got bolder, the drinks stronger, the laughter louder. Then Seungcheol, already grinning like a man on a mission, leaned back in his seat.

“Okay,” he said, lifting his glass and fixing a smug look on Mingyu. “Never have I ever… written poetry for someone I had an unrequited crush on.”

A few oohs rippled around the group.

Mingyu narrowed his eyes. “Fuck off.”

Seungcheol just grinned wider. “Gyu wrote Mia sonnets, back in sophomore year. Literal. Sonnets.”

“I did not,” Mingyu groaned.

“You so did,” Mia said, laughing as she took a sip. “One was about my eyes. And my hair. And I think my ankle?”

“Your boots!” Seungcheol snapped his fingers. “It was definitely about the boots.”

You stared at your glass.

The group erupted into laughter. Mingyu smiled sheepishly and took a drink, his cheeks slightly pink — whether from the alcohol or the attention, you couldn’t tell.

You weren’t sure if you should laugh along or disappear entirely.

The bottle of soju in the center of the coffee table had been emptied, replaced, and emptied again. Someone had switched playlists, so now lo-fi R&B hummed softly in the background as Seokmin stood in front of the TV, theatrically announcing the next round of Never Have I Ever.

“Okay, okay!” He grinned, slightly flushed from drink and laughter. “Never have I ever... hooked up with a roommate.”

Half the room burst out laughing. Someone groaned and took a sip, followed by Mia with an unapologetic smirk.

“Guilty,” she said with a shrug, nudging Seungcheol beside her. “Freshman year. We don’t talk about it.”

“Oh, we talk about it,” Seungcheol grinned. “It was chaos. She almost broke his desk chair.” You forced a smile, reaching for your drink and taking the tiniest sip just to avoid standing out. Mingyu didn’t drink on that one. You didn’t either. Still, your eyes flicked to him.

He was already looking at Mia, lips twitching in amusement.

Joshua leaned into your side, voice low. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied smoothly, setting your drink down and clasping your hands together.

He didn’t believe you. You knew that. But he just nodded.

Seokmin raised a hand to quiet the giggles. “Okay, okay, next one’s mine again—because I’m hilarious. Never have I ever... been lovesick over a best friend.”

“Dude,” Mingyu groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

Mia snorted. “Seriously?”

“Oh come on,” Seokmin said, practically gleaming. “Tell me that wasn’t Gyu during second year. We had to stage an intervention when he started writing shitty guitar songs.”

“Excuse me,” Mingyu said, pointing at him with mock offense. “They were sincere guitar songs.”

“Yeah, sincere trash,” Seungcheol chimed in, laughing. “You used to mope outside Mia’s studio like a dog in the rain.”

Your heart thudded unevenly.

“She had a boyfriend,” Mingyu shot back, laughing even as his ears turned red.

“You were still so in love with her,” Seokmin teased. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Mingyu didn’t say anything. He just rubbed the back of his neck, grinning, and took a long sip of his drink.

You blinked at the rim of your cup.

That’s fine. Of course he had history. Everyone did. It didn’t mean anything.

Except it did.

The way Mia smiled at him — fond, a little smug — and how comfortable she looked next to him, curled into the couch like she'd done it a hundred times. Like she'd never had to earn her spot there.

Your throat tightened.

“Y/N?” Someone called, snapping you out of it.

“Huh?”

“It’s your turn,” Seokmin said.

“Oh.” You blinked. “Right.”

Your fingers curled around your cup.

Don’t be obvious. Don’t be petty. Don’t make it worse.

You offered a bright smile. “Never have I ever... been serenaded in public.”

A few people groaned. Seokmin drank. Joshua drank. So did Seungcheol.

Mingyu didn't. “Not even once?” You asked, your tone light.

Mingyu shrugged, leaning back against the couch. “Nope. Not my thing.”

Mia tilted her head. “You almost did it for me once.”

“Keyword being almost,” he said, flashing her a small grin.

Something cold and sharp settled in your chest.

You laughed again — a little too high, too quick — and took a big sip of your drink just for something to do.

Joshua leaned closer. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m good,” you replied, your voice bright and brittle.

“Because you’re doing the thing.”

“What thing?”

He gave you a look. “The thing where you pretend you’re having fun but your fingers are clenched so hard you’re about to snap the glass.”

You blinked down at your cup.

“Oh,” you said, loosening your grip. “Didn’t realize.”

Joshua sighed and draped an arm over the back of the couch behind you. Protective. Anchoring.

“Gyu,” he called casually, “can you pass the bottle?”

Mingyu did — eyes flicking to you for half a second before you looked away — and conversation resumed around the circle.

But the ache in your chest stayed.

And even though you kept smiling, kept playing, kept sipping your drink...

You couldn’t help but notice that Mingyu never once looked your way again during the game.

“Alright, alright,” Seungcheol said with a mischievous grin, slouched sideways in the beanbag, already halfway into his next drink. “Here’s one for the romantics. Never have I ever started falling for someone and totally denied it to everyone around me, even though it was obvious as hell.”

The room broke into oohs and laughter.

“Oof, Cheol’s feeling messy tonight,” Seokmin said, raising his eyebrows.

“God, that’s specific,” someone added.

Joshua chuckled and reached for his drink with a murmur of “we’ve all been there.” A few others followed suit.

But your eyes went straight to Mingyu.

He didn’t reach for his glass. He just froze.

His hand hovered near the bottle, indecisive.

It wasn’t just you who noticed.

“Gyu,” Seungcheol said, voice full of amusement. “C’mon, you’re not drinking? We all had front row seats, dude.”

There was a ripple of chuckles.

You felt the air still. Your pulse fluttered in your throat.

Mingyu’s lips twitched — not in amusement, but like he was chewing something back.

“Maybe I just don’t want to play along,” he said evenly, setting his drink down instead.

The teasing shifted quickly into silence.

And for a moment, all you could hear was the hum of the music and the fizz of a nearby seltzer can being cracked open.

You forced out a light laugh. “Okay, this just got intense. Time-out. I’m getting snacks.”

You stood a little too fast.

“Need help?” Joshua asked quietly.

You shook your head, smiling. “All good. I just need to… stretch my legs.”

You slipped into the kitchen, your hand curling tighter around your glass with each step. The second you were out of view, you leaned against the counter, taking a breath.

That was stupid. You weren’t supposed to care, not like this, it was still too soon.

You weren’t supposed to react.

But hearing it phrased that way — having it exposed like some public game clue for everyone to dissect — had felt like someone reaching inside your chest and yanking something raw to the surface.

You busied your hands with a snack bowl. Pretzels. Chips. Something crunchy and loud enough to mask how unsettled you felt.

Behind you, you didn’t hear footsteps.

But you still knew he was there.

Mingyu’s voice was quiet when he spoke.

“You didn’t have to leave.”

You didn’t turn around.

“I needed a break,” you said, gently tipping pretzels into a bowl. “Thought the snacks were looking lonely.”

“Y/N…”

You sighed and looked over your shoulder. “It’s fine, Mingyu.”

His brows pulled together, the crease between them deeper than before. “It’s clearly not.”

You shrugged and turned back to the cabinet.

“I’m not mad,” you said softly. “I’m just… tired of feeling like the punchline.”

He hesitated, hands curling at his sides. “You’re not.”

You gave a hollow laugh and finally turned to face him. “Aren’t I? Because it kind of feels like that’s the bit I’m playing in this group. The clueless one. The girl you’re maybe into when it’s convenient.”

Mingyu’s jaw clenched. “That’s not fair.”

“Neither is the fact that Seungcheol talks about you being in love with Mia, and you just… sit there and let it land like it means nothing.”

“I didn’t ask him to say that,” Mingyu shot back.

“But you didn’t correct him either.”

There was a silence. Tight. Frayed at the edges.

You softened just enough to look at him clearly. “I know we haven’t figured us out yet. And I’m trying to be okay with that. I really am. But sometimes I feel like I’m on the outside of something I’m supposed to be part of.”

Mingyu looked like he wanted to say something — maybe reach for you, maybe apologize.

But instead, he just nodded.

And you turned away again, just munching on the pretzels. 

~~

You lingered in the kitchen for ten full minutes — ten long, dragging minutes of quietly crunching chips, sipping a flat drink, and trying to calm the thrum beneath your ribs.

Eventually, with a deep breath and a plastered-on smile, you picked up your glass and slipped back out.

The living room had only gotten louder.

Someone had turned the music up, bodies now shifting to the beat while others hovered around the island with their half-filled cups. The drinking game had dissolved into a mix of laughter and scattered stories. You scanned the room for a familiar anchor — Joshua. Maybe he’d be ready to head out with you.

You spotted him near the hallway, surrounded by three people who were talking animatedly, hands flying with every sentence. Joshua was grinning wide, nodding along, clearly invested. You thought about cutting in — but the words caught somewhere in your throat.

He looked happy.

And you didn’t want to ruin that.

So you turned away, gaze sweeping the room once more.

And then you saw them.

Wonwoo.

And Mia.

Out on the balcony.

You hadn’t even noticed the sliding door open. The light from inside spilled faintly onto the patio, casting just enough glow to make out their silhouettes. Both had drinks in hand — hers a wine glass, his something darker in a tumbler. They were standing close, too close. She was laughing at something he’d said, one hand reaching out to lightly smack his arm. He smirked in response, leaning in to murmur something else.

Your stomach dropped.

You shouldn’t care. Not really.

But the sight made something tighten sharply in your chest.

The memory of that one kiss you and Wonwoo had shared flickered across your mind like static — stupid, harmless, forgettable. That’s what you’d both said. That’s how you’d justified it.

But it didn’t feel so harmless now.

Especially not when he was standing out there laughing with the same girl who had already been a minefield in your night.

You shifted back half a step, heart thudding in your ears.

You didn’t know what you felt. Jealousy? Guilt? Resentment? All of it layered over itself until it buzzed under your skin.

You turned quickly, almost bumping into someone as you ducked away toward the hallway.

Maybe fresh air.

Or maybe your coat.

You needed out — even if just for a few minutes.

You turned the corner in the hallway, heart set on grabbing your coat and slipping out before anyone noticed. But just as you reached the entryway, you stopped short.

Mingyu was there, leaning against the wall with a half-empty drink in his hand. His eyes flicked up the second he saw you. His expression was unreadable — but his jaw was tight.

“Leaving?” He asked coolly.

You hesitated. “Just getting some air.”

“Right.” He took a slow sip from his cup. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mingyu gave a half-laugh, dry and low. “It means every time things get even a little bit uncomfortable, you vanish. Kitchen. Couch. Front door. Doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“I’m not vanishing,” you shot back. “I just—I needed a break.”

“From what? A party?” He said sharply. “From people asking questions or making jokes? You think I wasn’t uncomfortable when Seungcheol decided to talk about Mia like we were some old married couple?”

You blinked at him. “That’s not what this is about.”

Mingyu stepped forward. “Isn’t it?”

The hallway suddenly felt much narrower.

“You keep acting like I’m the one who’s keeping things from you,” he said, voice low but simmering. “Like I’m the one still playing games. But you know what? You hid the fact you kissed Wonwoo from me.”

Your breath caught.

Mingyu shook his head, eyes dark. “You say you want something real, and then the second things feel hard or messy, you bolt. You run, Y/N. Every time.”

You flinched. That hit too close.

“I’m not running,” you whispered.

He raised a brow. “Aren’t you?”

Silence. Thick and heavy.

You looked away, pressing your lips together as you struggled to push down the swirl in your chest.

“I just need a minute,” you finally muttered, reaching for the doorknob.

Mingyu didn’t stop you. He just watched, his knuckles whitening around his glass, and said quietly,

“Of course you do.”

And then he turned back toward the living room.

Leaving you standing alone in the hallway — your coat in one hand, and your heart doing laps in your chest.

~~ It wasn’t until you were halfway down the block that the weight of your choice hit. You had no destination, no real plan — just anger and bitterness and a vague urge to walk it out. Your phone was in your pocket, but you didn’t want to use it. You didn’t want to call anyone. You just… needed to be alone.

Except, the further you walked, the more lost you became.

Every rustle, every crack of twigs made you twitch. You kept moving, kept walking faster, willing yourself not to break down. Eventually, miraculously, you spotted a familiar street name, which gave you just enough hope to return to your building.

You exhaled sharply when the elevator doors closed behind you. Safe. ~~ You reached your door and slid your keys out of your purse, hand halfway to the lock—when a voice stopped you cold.

“Y/N.”

Your fingers paused mid-turn.

Mingyu was standing in front of his own apartment, hoodie half-zipped, hands in his pockets, his eyes already on you. His hair was slightly tousled like he’d just run a hand through it too many times.

You gave a tired smile, trying to defuse the awkwardness lingering between you both. “Hey.”

But Mingyu didn’t smile back. “You might not want to go in right now.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I mean it,” he said quietly. “Just… wait a bit.”

You frowned, still gripping your keys. “Mingyu, I live here.”

“I know,” he said, gaze heavy. “But Wonwoo and Mia… they came back.”

Your heart stuttered. You let out a breathy laugh, trying to play it cool. “So? They’re friends, right?”

Mingyu tilted his head, the edge of frustration flickering in his expression. “Friends don’t usually come back from a party like that. And definitely not when he comes knocking on my door five minutes later asking for a condom.”

The words hit you like a gut punch.

You froze.

“I’m not trying to be cruel,” Mingyu added after a beat. “I just figured you’d rather hear it from me than… find out when you walked in.”

You let out a small, humorless laugh and leaned back against your door, suddenly feeling like the floor had shifted beneath you.

“Thanks for the heads-up,” you said, voice thin.

Mingyu nodded, eyes softening. “I wasn’t trying to rub it in. I just—didn’t want you to walk in and feel blindsided.”

You took a seat on the floor, back against your door, arms hugged around your knees like they were the only thing holding you together. The hallway was quiet, save for the faint muffled bass still pulsing from someone’s party playlist. You blinked slowly, trying not to think about anything. Especially not about what was happening behind that door.

Mingyu shifted from where he was standing. “Hey…” he said softly, crouching down in front of you.

You looked up, eyes heavy.

“Come inside.”

You blinked. “Gyu…”

“No,” he cut you off gently, voice low. “No expectations, no talking if you don’t want to. I just… You’re freezing.” His brows knit together. “At least let me make you tea. Or take a hot shower, or… hell, just sit on my couch wrapped in a blanket until you don’t feel like the world’s kicked you in the teeth.”

You stared at him for a long beat, and when you didn’t respond, he added—

“You can even crash in my bed. I’ll take the couch, seriously. You shouldn’t be alone tonight.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words didn’t come. You were too tired to argue, too wrung out to pretend. And the quiet sincerity in his face—no teasing, no passive digs—just soft concern and that familiar, maddeningly warm steadiness—it unraveled whatever was left of your resistance.

“…Okay.”

He nodded once, slow and quiet, like he was making a promise not to ask for more.

Mingyu stood and reached out a hand.

You took it.

And when he gently pulled you to your feet and guided you across the hall into the soft, familiar glow of his apartment, you exhaled your first real breath in hours.

~~

His apartment was warm, too clean — clearly a sign of restlessness that he felt, and in order to quell it, he decided to clean up after the party ended.

“Go shower, you can take any one of my shirts in my room.” 

You nodded and made your way to his bedroom, hands still shaking from the cold and the spiral in your head.

You stood by the bathroom doorway, fingers fidgeting with the hem of Mingyu’s oversized hoodie. You weren’t sure why your chest still felt tight, why the ache hadn’t eased yet—maybe because you still hadn’t said anything. Or maybe because you were waiting for him to.

Mingyu was folding a blanket over the couch when he paused, then glanced over his shoulder.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Before you go in…”

You looked up.

“I wanted to clear something up. About… Mia.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone.

“She and I never… We weren’t a thing,” he said, straightening up and rubbing the back of his neck. “I had a stupid crush on her during our first year at uni. Thought she was cool. Pretty. Funny. I followed her around like a lovesick idiot for a bit.”

You gave a tiny nod, waiting.

“But that thing Seungcheol said? About the desk?” He winced. “That wasn’t me and her. It was Seokmin and his ex. In the shared flat. I was literally in the next room, trying not to vomit from the noise.”

You couldn’t help the small, awkward laugh that escaped.

Mingyu smiled faintly, then looked down at his hands. “I just… I know tonight made you feel small. And that’s on me too. I should’ve shut that conversation down. I should’ve said something instead of letting you sit there feeling like a joke.”

You opened your mouth, but he beat you to it.

“And I shouldn’t have lost it earlier about Wonwoo. It caught me off guard, but you didn’t deserve that.”

“No,” you said quickly, stepping closer, heart thudding. “You were right to be upset. I should’ve told you. I was just… scared. It was before anything with us even started but I still felt stupid, and messy, and—”

“Hey.” He stepped forward gently, and before you could spiral further, he cupped your face in both hands.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said softly, thumbs brushing the edge of your jaw. “You don’t have to say everything perfectly all the time. You just have to tell me when something matters.”

Your breath caught.

He leaned in, not for your lips, but for your forehead—pressing a kiss there so soft it made your eyes sting.

When he pulled back, he gave you the smallest smile. “Go shower, okay? Take your time.”

You nodded, heart a little lighter.

It had been a half hour, and you were in the bathroom, not yet showered, simply looking at your appearance and wondering what Mia had that you didn’t. She got Mingyu’s attention once, and now Wonwoo, and you just looked at the mirror wondering what you lacked.

The bathroom mirror was cruel.

You stood there, picking yourself apart — everything you weren’t, everything she was.

“Y/N?” Mingyu called out now worried because you had been gone for so long. 

You didn’t respond.

Mingyu stepped in slowly, a towel in hand. “Hey. Stop that.”

“I just… wanted to see what I was missing.”

He sighed and gently helped you onto the counter, wetting the towel and wiping your face with steady hands.

“She’s pretty.”

“Stop. Do not tear yourself apart.”

“She has a great body.”

“Y/N look at me.”

You blinked at him.

“Can you shower? Or do you need help?”

“I don’t know. She got your attention and his, what does she have that I don’t?”

“Don’t do this, don’t tear yourself apart.”

You leaned into him. “Don’t pity me.”

“I’m not.”

His hands moved to your waist, slow, deliberate. “Nothing about this is pity.”

And then, he kissed you — soft, grounding, nothing like the others.

“I’m going to ask you again,” Mingyu murmured as he brushed his fingers gently against your jaw. “Can you manage to shower on your own, or do you need me to help you?”

You hesitated for a moment, then quietly pressed yourself into his chest. “I need you.”

Mingyu nodded wordlessly and began to strip, his eyes never leaving yours. “You know,” he said softly, “you are so fucking beautiful.” You looked down, unsure of how to respond. Mingyu stepped forward, tilting your chin up. “And I’m going to make sure you remember that.”

He guided you into the shower, and the minute the warm water hit your skin, you sighed. It was like the tension had been waiting to melt off your shoulders. Mingyu reached for the shampoo and ran his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp so gently it almost made you tear up. He didn’t rush. He just took care of you. And for once, you let someone do that.

You were about to step out when Mingyu turned you gently and pressed your back to the tile wall.

His lips landed on your forehead first, then trailed down to your lips—soft, slow, and deliberate. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t about heat. It was about holding you there, steady, wanted. You kissed him back, curling your fingers into his hair, and he leaned into it.

His lips brushed along your jaw, then down your neck. He was leaving faint marks—reminders. “Just so you know you’re real,” he murmured, almost like he could read your thoughts. His hands moved up to your breasts, careful and reverent, making you gasp when he tugged at your nipple just right.

Mingyu dropped to his knees without a word, and you held your breath.

The way he licked you—patient, intentional—it wasn’t just about getting you off. It was like he wanted to remind you of what it meant to feel good in your body again. Your hands tangled in his soaked hair as his tongue moved through your folds, dipping into you, then teasing your clit with expert flicks.

Your orgasm crept up on you slowly, and when it hit, it rolled through you like a wave. Mingyu didn’t let go of you—if anything, he held tighter, anchoring you in place as you trembled through it.

“You look so fucking gorgeous when you fall apart,” he whispered, lips against your thigh. “Like this? This is mine.”

You whimpered at his words, your legs trembling. “Turn around, face the wall,” he said gently. “Can I—?”

“Please,” you breathed.

Mingyu pulled you into another kiss, your lips barely able to keep up with the emotion. Before you realised it, he was lifting you up, your legs around his waist, aligning himself with you.

“Is this okay?” He asked again, and the softness in his voice made your heart stutter.

You nodded.

The first push of him inside you made you gasp, and Mingyu held you steady, his forehead pressed against yours. “So tight,” he whispered. “So fucking beautiful.”

He rocked into you with more power than speed, and you felt your fourth orgasm build until you were practically sobbing into his shoulder. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, kissing your neck. “I’ve got you.”

“Cum inside me,” you whispered.

He nodded, kissed you hard, and thrust deeper, grunting as he spilled inside you. Your body quaked again, your walls clenching around him.

Even after he pulled out and gently set you down, Mingyu didn’t step away. He held your shaking body close, pressed a kiss to your forehead, and slid a hand down your stomach.

“One more,” he said, his voice almost a question.

You nodded.

He slid his fingers into you again, and it was too much, but in the best way. You came instantly, collapsing into him.

Mingyu held you up, whispering soft words in your ear as he washed you down carefully, wrapped you in a towel, and carried you to his bed.

He towelled your hair dry, slid a clean shirt over your head, and tucked you into bed with him, wrapping his arms around you like a safety net.

You laid your head on his chest and mumbled, “cuddly.”

“Always,” he said, kissing the top of your head. “How do you feel?”

You hesitated. “Fucked out. But safe. And wanted.”

Mingyu’s voice was quiet when he answered. “Good. That’s all I ever want you to feel with me.”

Maybe it was the exhaustion, or the intimacy, but just as you started to drift off, you heard him whisper something against your hair.

“I’ll always only want you.”

~~

A couple of days later, you groaned, dragging yourself onto the couch and curling into a tight ball. “God, why does it feel like my uterus is trying to kill me,” you muttered, clutching a hot water bottle to your stomach. 

“I swear to god, fucking stupid moron,” you continued to swear, as every movement felt like punishment from your uterus.

“Okay, I just got here, so I know I didn’t piss you off,” Joshua said as he walked into the kitchen, eyebrows raised.

You glared at him. “You offering to help?”

“Not if you’re gonna bite me,” he quipped, stepping around you and grabbing the kettle. “Sit. You look like you’re two cramps away from burning down the building.”

You groaned and shuffled to the couch, burying yourself in blankets. “Ugh, I hate this. Everything hurts.”

Joshua soon joined you with a mug in hand. “Put in honey too. You're welcome.”

You smiled faintly. “You’re the best.”

“Obviously,” he replied. Then he glanced at his phone. “I wish I could stay, but I’m meeting Jihoon. He’s letting me preview his next drop.”

You gave him a weak thumbs up. “Rub it in.”

Joshua gave you a pointed look. “Also—friendly poke—but have you spoken to Wonwoo since the party?”

You groaned. “Ask me when I’m not bleeding like a stuck pig, okay?”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Fair. You’re terrifying. Anyway, I’ll be back later.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead. “And if I’m not, Mingyu can take care of you.”

At the mention of his name, you peeked over the top of your blanket… just in time to see Mingyu walking through your apartment door like it was scripted.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, flopping back down and hiding again.

Mingyu laughed as he crouched in front of you. “Why am I apparently your designated caretaker?”

You sighed dramatically. “Because my uterus is revolting, and I’m slowly dying.”

“Right. Your monthly ‘not pregnant’ reminder.” Mingyu softened his tone. 

“Do you want a pillow?” He asked

You smirked. “You offering to be a body pillow now?”

“Absolutely. Way comfier.” Without waiting, he scooped you up and settled onto the couch with you draped across him, his leg propping up your back. “Better?”

You nodded against his chest. “So much better.”

For a while, it was quiet, his fingers lazily carding through your hair.

“Gyu?” You murmured, your voice drowsy.

“Yeah?”

“You must have been a solid ex-boyfriend, because this is top-tier boyfriend behaviour.”

He paused, then answered softly. “It did serve me lots of brownie points with my ex.”

You tilted your head to look at him. “Sorry, we don’t have to discuss it if it’s a sore subject.”

“Nah,” he shrugged. “It’s part of the story, you know? I thought she was the one, for a while.”

“You’re a romantic,” you whispered.

Mingyu smiled. “Guilty. I like the idea of something that makes you feel so seen, so loved… something that sticks.”

You let out a soft breath. “I used to be like that. But every time I like someone, they like someone else. So... what’s the point?”

“Do you not believe in love anymore?”

“I do,” you admitted. “Just not for me.”

“Why? You don’t think you’ll find it, or you don’t think you deserve it?”

Your eyes fluttered shut. “Some people get it. Some people don’t. I think I’m the latter. Can we change the topic? Discussing this on my period is a bad idea.”

“You brought it up,” he said gently.

“And now I’m regretting it,” you muttered, making him laugh.

He adjusted slightly, his hand resting over yours. “Should I go?”

You pulled back to look at him. “You’re leaving because I don’t want to dissect my emotional trauma?”

“I’m leaving because I feel like I’m always walking on eggshells around you. One minute we’re laughing, the next you’re distant. It’s hard to keep up.”

You turned your face away. “Now you get why I don’t believe in this fairytale crap. Love is supposed to be this all-forgiving, unconditional thing. If I can’t even be friends with someone because of my moods, then what hope do I have?”

He was quiet for a beat, then gently pulled you into his arms again. “Okay. What if we just hang out for a week? Just friends. No sex. We get drunk, eat junk food, watch movies—see if we even like each other without the orgasms.”

You snorted. “That sounds kinda fun. After the period from hell, though.”

He smiled down at you. “Of course.”

“Gyu?” You whispered.

“Hmm?”

“You’re not leaving?”

“Nope. Couch is comfy. I’m lazy. And you’re warm.”

You smiled and snuggled into his chest, placing a soft kiss on his jaw.

“What was that for?” He asked.

“Because you’re a sweetheart.” ~~ You woke up groggy, face buried against something firm and warm.

“Gyu,” you mumbled sleepily, blinking at the early morning light creeping through your curtains.

“Hm?” He muttered, voice raspy and barely awake.

“Can you get up?”

“Why?” Mingyu mumbled sleepily, arms still wrapped around you. “M’comfy.”

You shifted slightly, your forehead creased. “Because… Wonwoo could walk in and see us like this, and you two haven’t gotten off to the best start.”

Mingyu blinked his eyes open at that, head lifting slowly from the pillow. “Oh,” he said softly. “Right.”

You frowned when he didn’t move, when his arms didn’t immediately pull away. “Gyu?”

He took a breath and looked at you—not annoyed, not defensive. Just thoughtful. “Can I ask you something?”

You nodded slowly.

“How do you feel? About him. About… everything that happened with Mia.”

Your stomach twisted. You rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling. “I don’t know.”

Mingyu didn’t speak, giving you the space to figure it out. You could feel the weight of his gaze though, and something about that steadiness made the words come easier.

“I think… I think part of me was always holding on to this idea of him. The possibility of it. But then I saw him with her—saw how easy it was for him to move on and smile like it never meant anything.”

Mingyu stayed quiet, his hand brushing over your knuckles gently.

“And I felt stupid,” you whispered. “For believing it ever meant anything. For hoping.” He nodded slowly. “You don’t have to explain it to me.”

“But I want to,” you said, turning to look at him. “Because I don’t want you to think that I’m still stuck on him. I’m not. It just… it still stings a little.”

“Of course it does,” Mingyu said quietly. “You cared.”

Silence hung between you for a beat. Then he reached over and tugged the blanket over your knees.

“I’m not trying to replace anything, Y/N,” he said, voice gentle. “But I need to know that I’m not a rebound. Or someone you lean on because you’re lonely.”

“You’re not,” you said without hesitation, sitting up a little. “You’re… kind, and patient, and safe. And I’m scared because I don’t want to screw this up.”

Mingyu gave you a tired, crooked smile. “We already did the screwing up part, remember?”

You let out a small laugh, wiping at your eyes. “Right.”

He reached for your hand again. “Then let’s just try. Slowly, if we have to.”

You nodded, the lump in your throat softening.

Mingyu tilted his head. “Now, can I hold you again without the threat of a third-party walk-in ruining the moment?”

You chuckled and pulled the blanket tighter around you. “Okay. Just don’t squeeze my stomach too hard. I’m still cramping.”

He smiled, already settling back down beside you, warm and close and quiet.

“I’ll be gentle,” he whispered, tucking you closer. “Always.”

And for the first time in a long while, you believed it.

~~ About an hour later, once you’d both recovered enough to joke about heating pads and your questionable snack choices, Mingyu stretched with a sleepy grin, tugged on his hoodie, and ruffled your hair. “Alright, nurse Gyu’s off the clock, I need to actually attend a meeting,” he teased. 

“Text me if you need anything, okay?” You nodded, smiling as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead before heading to the door with one last wave. Just as the warmth between you and Mingyu settled into something quiet and safe, the front door creaked open, and in walked Wonwoo, fingers laced effortlessly with Mia’s.

“Oh,” Wonwoo said awkwardly, holding hands with Mia. “Didn’t know you were home.”

You stared at him. “I live here.”

Mia glanced down at her feet. “I’ll be in your room,” she said softly.

You watched her walk away, then turned to Wonwoo with a blank stare.

“Why did I see Mingyu leave just now?” He asked.

You scoffed. “Why do you care?”

He sighed, rubbing his temple. “Look… Mia and I… we connect. In a way, I just couldn’t with you.”

You blinked. “What the hell does that mean?”

Wonwoo paused. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a complete and utter dick.”

“Too late.”

He winced. “You told Joshua you liked me. Loudly. I heard you. And since then, I guess I’ve been trying to like you back. But… I couldn’t.”

You swallowed. “Thanks for the ego boost.”

“I thought something must be wrong with me if I couldn’t like someone like you. So I tried. We’re great as friends, but I wanted to see if maybe something more would grow. I thought… maybe if I kissed you, maybe if we got closer, it’d click. But it didn’t.”

You sat down. Your body was numb.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said softly. “I know I still did. I’m sorry.”

You nodded. “Does she make you happy?”

Wonwoo smiled, slowly and real. “Yeah. She does.”

“Then I’m happy for you. Or I will be. Eventually.”

He smiled back. “Thanks.”

As he turned to leave, you spotted something tossed over the back of the couch—Mingyu’s leather jacket.

“Does he make you happy?” Wonwoo asked, following your gaze.

You hesitated. “He’s… good in bed.”

Wonwoo gave you a look. “Y/N.”

You groaned. “Fine. Maybe. I don’t know. It’s too soon.”

“Then find out. You deserve to feel the kind of happiness you’re wishing me.”

You stared at him—and suddenly your brain clicked into gear. “Holy shit, you just gave me an idea.”

Wonwoo blinked. “Wait, what?”

“Never mind. I’ll tell you later.” You were already darting to your bedroom, mind racing. “And I’ll be nice to Mia. Promise!”

He stood in the hallway, looking vaguely concerned, as you disappeared with your laptop.

~~ The cursor blinked back at you as you deleted the title of your current draft.

“What is a Type?”Gone.

You typed quickly:

“How Many Dates Until You Know?”

You hit send on the pitch, and within minutes, your editor responded:

Approved. Run with it.

You smiled. For the first time in a long time, your fingers didn’t hesitate.

And the first person you wanted to write this with—the only person who had stuck around long enough to earn that role—was Mingyu.

~~ “So Keira,” you began, twirling your pen between your fingers, “I’m basically going to go out with him today. It’s not a date, but somewhere during the hangouts, I’ll bring up the idea of a date. I’ll essentially make him take me on one and see how long it takes for me to fall.”

Keira narrowed her eyes. “You’re using your hot neighbour for an investigative romance piece.”

You grinned. “Exactly.”

“Y/N,” she said, voice half-worried, half-exasperated, “while I love this chaotic plan, let’s keep it confidential. I don’t want him getting hurt and then suing us.”

You raised your hands in mock surrender. “He won’t! Okay, it’s six—I gotta go meet him for our ‘friendly’ workout.”

“Use protection!” Keira called as you walked out of her office.

You rolled your eyes and muttered, “Not that kind of workout…”

And maybe you’d forgotten to mention that you’d already slept with him. Repeatedly. But that wasn’t important. This wasn’t about sex anymore—it was about connection, chemistry, and curiosity. This was research.

For journalism. Obviously.

~~

“You wore heels to a workout?” Mingyu asked, raising a brow as you walked up to him outside your office.

“Relax,” you said, spinning slightly on your toes. “I’ve got my workout gear in my bag; I just needed to look cute for work.”

“You always look cute.”

You blinked. “Okay, that’s not helpful.”

“What?” Mingyu asked, smirking. “You looked at me like I was the dessert tray.”

You glared. “You’re literally sex on legs, and you know it.”

“Flattery will get you in the car faster.” He gestured to his sleek black Mercedes.

You paused. “Not to be that person, but… nice wheels.”

Mingyu stiffened slightly. “It was a gift. From my ex.”

You blinked. “A car?”

“Yeah,” he said, starting the engine. 

“We dated through high school. Her family was loaded. When I told her I wanted to become a photographer, she freaked. She said it didn’t fit her image; she expected that when it was appropriate, I’d marry her and we’d run her family business.”

“Oh, that’s not fair, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“She bought me shit like this to keep me around. Said if I failed, I could sell the gifts. Thought I’d be her trophy husband.”

Your hand found its way to his thigh. “Damn. Well, with you’ve been through with her, it’s impressive that you still believe in love.”

“I didn’t. Not for a long time. But then I found dance again. Music. Something that loved me back. And it taught me how to love myself, too.”

You were quiet for a second.

Then leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You’re such a softie.”

“Oh, also, I’m taking you rock climbing, so buckle up.”

~~

You didn’t expect the receptionist to be so… pretty.

And smiley.

And touchy.

Your stomach twisted when Mingyu greeted her like an old friend. “Nice to see you again.”

“You brought a friend this time,” she said, giving you a pointed once-over.

“I am the friend,” you said, deadpan.

She asked for your shoe size and handed you climbing shoes. You followed Mingyu into the locker room, already irritated.

“You good?” he asked, eyes watching you closely.

“Fine,” you snapped.

“Then why were you glaring at her?”

“Yuri?”

You scoffed. “Yeah Yuri, Pretty receptionist with perfect tits? No reason.”

“I didn’t notice her tits,” he muttered. “But thanks for pointing it out. Should I go admire them up close?”

You glared. “Why are you trying to piss me off?”

“Are you jealous?”

You blinked. “No!”

He tilted his head. “Okay. Then change and meet me outside.”

~~Ten minutes later, you nearly choked when you found Mingyu shirtless by the climbing wall.

“Put your shirt back on,” you said immediately.

“Why? You don’t care who I talk to or what I do.”

You rolled your eyes. “Show me how this works before I commit murder.”

Mingyu smirked. “Yes, ma’am.”

He scaled the wall effortlessly, muscles flexing in all the right places.

You hated how hot he looked.

Also, you slipped on your third attempt and scraped your knee.

“Fuck—Y/N!” Mingyu was by your side instantly, kneeling next to you.

“It’s fine,” you muttered, wincing.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Just a scratch.”

“You’re stubborn.”

“And you’re cute when you’re worried.”

Mingyu rolled his eyes but helped you up. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

~~ You changed back into your dress, only to find him chatting—again—with Yuri at the desk.

Laughing. Like, she was the funniest person alive.

Your blood boiled for no reason. Rationally, you knew this. Emotionally, you wanted to hurl your climbing shoes at his head.

“Hey,” he said, noticing you. “Have you been waiting long?”

You shrugged. “Was Yuri too distracting?”

Mingyu’s expression dropped. “You know what? I’m tired of this.”

Your arms folded automatically.

“I can’t talk to anyone without you jumping to conclusions. You keep saying you want to be friends—but if I have to tiptoe around your feelings and mine just to keep you from blowing up, then what’s the point?”

You blinked. “I… I care. Okay? Maybe too much. But I do care.”

Mingyu softened, reaching up to hold your face. “Then tell me that. Don’t shut down. Don’t make it weird.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

~~

Back at his place, you were both sprawled on the bed, slurping noodles and giggling through Ratatouille.

Somewhere around your fourth glass of wine, you tried to get up.

“I should head home.”

Mingyu caught your wrist. “Or stay. You’re comfy to cuddle.”

You turned, eyes locking with his.

You didn’t say anything.

You didn’t have to.

Because in that moment, the line between friendship and something else blurred again—and this time, neither of you pulled away.

“How’s your knee?” Mingyu asked quietly a little later, his hand tracing soft circles along your lower back. You were curled into him, trying to relax, but your body was tense. “It’s okay,” you whispered, voice low. Then he moved his thigh slightly, and you gasped.

“Shit—did I hurt you?” He said instantly, sitting up slightly in concern, his expression soft and serious.

“No—no,” you rushed to reassure him, shaking your head. “You didn’t. It’s just… the way you’re moving your thigh—um—it’s kind of… turning me on.”

Mingyu blinked, then cracked a small, surprised smile. “Yeah? Like this?” He flexed again, watching you melt into his chest with a tiny groan. “God,” you whispered.

“Get up,” he said, and you obeyed without even thinking, legs already trembling. Mingyu sat up and glanced down at his sweats. “Look at this,” he said with a soft huff, gesturing at the wet patch. “You’ve been sitting here, all innocent, no underwear under your oversized shirt?”

You gave him a shy nod. “Didn’t think it’d matter.”

Mingyu ran a hand down his face, eyes raking over you. “Is that why you took forever in the shower earlier? Were you thinking about me?” His voice was low, teasing—but the vulnerability behind it was clear. He wanted the truth. And you gave it to him.

“Yeah,” you admitted quietly.

That single word was all he needed. He reached out gently, pulling you back into his arms. “Lie down with me.” His tone had softened. “Do you have work early?”

“No, I start at ten.”

“Good,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your neck. “Then just stay. Let’s just… be here.”

There was a pause. “Okay, don’t freak out, but I don’t really sleep with clothes on,” he whispered into your ear, like it was some confession. “I can wear boxers if it makes you uncomfortable—”

“No,” you said softly. “I think I might take this off too.” You tugged at the hem of your shirt.

He watched you, his eyes warm, not predatory. “That’s okay. We can just hold each other. You don’t have to do anything you’re not up for.”

But the warmth building between your bodies said otherwise. You were curled up in bed, bare skin on bare skin, when you started to squirm. Mingyu’s arms tightened instinctively around you. “Stop moving, baby,” he groaned. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“I’m trying to get comfortable.”

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “You keep this up and I won’t be able to think straight.” You pushed back into him, feeling how hard he was. Your voice was low, almost shy, but certain. “Then… maybe do something about it.”

He chuckled, but his gaze turned tender. “Only if you want me to.”

“I want you.”

That was all it took. Mingyu gently bit your shoulder, then pulled the duvet off your legs. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Come sit on my face, pretty girl.”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

“C’mere,” he murmured, guiding you up. You positioned yourself above him, heart pounding, thighs trembling slightly from nerves. But Mingyu was nothing but reverent, his hands supporting you gently as he looked up with nothing short of adoration. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.”

The first touch of his mouth had you gasping. He didn’t rush—he never did. Every flick of his tongue was patient, slow, deliberate, like he wanted you to feel cherished, not just desired. Your hands found his hair and tangled there as you let your head fall back.

He pulled you down for a kiss, then whispered, “hands and knees.” You obeyed shakily, still breathless. Mingyu slid into you slowly, almost carefully, groaning as he filled you. “You feel so good… I’ll go slow, baby.”

But it didn’t stay slow for long. Your body welcomed him like it was made for this, and soon he was pounding into you, every stroke sending shivers down your spine. He kept murmuring soft praise in your ear between kisses on your shoulder, telling you how perfect you felt, how beautiful you looked.

When you whimpered that you wanted to taste him, he stilled and pulled out, letting you turn around. You wrapped your lips around him, taking your time, and he groaned, one hand tangled in your hair, the other resting gently on your back like an anchor.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me—” His breath caught as he came, and you swallowed him down, still licking softly until he whimpered. “God, you’re unreal.”

He didn’t even let you sit up before scooping you into his arms and carrying you to the shower. “You made me beg,” he teased with a breathless laugh. “Now it’s my turn.”

You didn’t remember how long you were in there. Mingyu kissed and licked and touched you like it was his sole purpose in life. He whispered soft encouragement, asked if it felt okay, and held you steady when your legs gave out. And when you squirted for the fourth time, he kissed your temple and whispered, “There she is. My perfect girl.”

Back in bed, you were a puddle of emotion and sensation. He dried you off with the softest towel, pulled his shirt over your body, and crawled in beside you. His arms wrapped tightly around you as you buried your face into his chest.

“Cuddly,” you whispered, eyes fluttering shut.

He chuckled softly. “How do you feel?”

“Fucked out. But…amazing.”

Mingyu held you tighter, resting his chin on your head. “I’m glad.”

And just before sleep pulled you under, you thought you heard him murmur against your hair. You didn’t ask, but you felt him smile into your hair. ~~

“You’re comfy to cuddle,” Mingyu said again, voice barely above a whisper as his fingers curled softly around your wrist.

You raised an eyebrow. “You said no sex while we’re hanging out.”

“I did,” he replied. “But cuddling isn’t sex.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “With you, cuddling is basically foreplay.”

He chuckled, tugging you gently back down until your head was resting on his chest again. “Then I’ll behave.”

You sighed as you curled into him, feeling the warm rise and fall of his breathing. His fingers returned to threading through your hair, slow and rhythmic. You hated how much you liked it. How right it felt.

“Mingyu?” you mumbled into his shirt.

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever wondered why we do this? Sleep together, fight, make up, but still act like we’re not… anything?”

Mingyu didn’t answer right away.

Then—“All the time.”

Your eyes lifted to his, but he wasn’t looking at you. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, like he was trying to hold something back.

“I don’t know,” he added softly. “Maybe it’s because every time I think it could mean something, you push me away.”

You winced. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” He finally looked at you. “The moment I get close, you panic. The moment I pull away, you come running.”

“Mingyu…”

“No, it’s fine,” he said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re not wrong either. I’m probably addicted to the way you confuse me.”

You sat up, suddenly too warm, too vulnerable.

“I’m not trying to confuse you,” you said quietly.

“I know,” he said, sitting up too, face inches from yours. “I think we’re both just… scared.”

You didn’t know who moved first. Maybe you leaned in, maybe he did. All you knew was that the air between you cracked with tension, and then—

Your lips were on his.

Slow. Soft. Cautious.

And then not cautious at all.

Mingyu’s hands tangled in your hair, yours clutched the front of his shirt, and the kiss deepened into something familiar, something dangerous. You were already straddling his lap before you realised what was happening, the promise of “no sex” evaporating like steam off a kettle.

He pulled away, panting, forehead resting against yours.

“This is a bad idea,” he whispered.

“Yep,” you whispered back.

Neither of you moved.

His thumb traced along your jaw. Your nails curled against his chest.

“Mingyu…” you said, voice trembling.

“Yeah?”

You swallowed. “We’re fucked.”

He smiled.

And kissed you again anyway.

~~ The room was quiet, save for the low hum of the city through the window and the sound of Mingyu’s breathing—slow, steady, grounding. His arm was draped over your waist, anchoring you to the warmth of his body, skin still slick with the afterglow. You lay there tangled in sheets and each other, your cheek pressed into his chest, fingers lazily tracing the dip between his ribs.

“You okay?” Mingyu murmured into your hair, his voice husky from both exhaustion and softness.

You nodded, almost imperceptibly. “Yeah. You?”

“Mm.” He shifted slightly, just enough to press a light kiss to your forehead. “More than okay.”

You smiled at that, closing your eyes for a moment. But even in the comfort of his arms, that familiar unease stirred in your chest. The intimacy didn’t scare you—not exactly. But what it might lead to did. You could feel the questions hanging between you, heavy like unsaid words always were.

Mingyu sensed it too.

“I know this wasn’t... nothing,” he started, his voice careful, like he didn’t want to break the calm. “But I also know you don’t like labels. Or expectations.”

You sighed, biting your lip. “It’s not that I don’t like them,” you said slowly. “It’s just... whenever things get serious, I panic. I start convincing myself I’m not ready, or that I’ll mess it up.”

Mingyu nodded. “That’s fair.”

You looked up at him, surprised. “It is?”

“Yeah,” he said with a soft chuckle. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want more with you. But I also know what it’s like to feel like you’re sprinting when everyone else is just learning how to walk.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know,” Mingyu said. “And I don’t want to pressure you. I like this. I like you. And if this—us—is just a maybe for now... I’m okay with that.”

You swallowed, then nodded. “So we’re not... together.”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Not exclusive.”

“Nope.”

“But we like each other.”

Mingyu gave you a lazy grin. “A lot.”

You smiled at that, something warm and relieved blooming in your chest. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he echoed, tightening his arm around you and pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “So we just… keep doing what we’re doing?”

“For now,” you said softly. “We take it slow. No pressure. No promises.”

“Cool,” Mingyu said. “Though I reserve the right to make you breakfast.”

“And I reserve the right to avoid your protein pancakes.”

He gasped in mock offense, and you both burst into quiet laughter, limbs still tangled beneath the sheets. Maybe it wasn’t a fairytale. Maybe it wasn’t official.

But it felt real.

And, for now, that was enough.

~~

“Walk of shame at eight in the morning, nice,” Joshua commented, glancing over the rim of his coffee mug as you tried to sneak past him unnoticed. “Seriously, is he that good in bed? Because, girl, you’re limping.”

You shot him a withering glare, cheeks flaming. “He’s amazing, okay?”

Joshua grinned, the kind of grin that said I told you so without saying a word. “Oh my god, you’re smiling like the Cheshire Cat. Do you like him?”

You shook your head a little too quickly. “No… I mean… I’m just… seeing if I could?”

Joshua blinked at you, setting his mug down. “What?”

You gave him a sheepish smile. “So… my next article? It’s going to be titled How Many Dates Until You Fall in Love.”

Joshua raised a brow. “Okay, that’s kinda cute. And honestly, kinda cool that Mingyu’s down to be your guinea pig.”

You froze. “He… doesn’t know.”

Joshua just sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Y/N.”

“What?”

“Are you out of your mind? Do you know how bad that looks? You’re literally using him for a story.”

You folded your arms. “Not if I end up liking him. Then it’s a romance arc.”

“Y/N, you can’t—”

“If I fall for him, it’ll be adorable!” You cut in, and then quickly added under your breath, “and journalistic.”

He groaned. “I hope your gravestone says, ‘killed by stupid decisions.’”

Before you could retort, Wonwoo strolled into the kitchen with a yawn and a stretch. “Okay, what’s going on? What dumb shit has she done now?”

“She’s writing an article called How Many Dates Until You Fall in Love,” Joshua muttered.

“And she’s using Mingyu to figure it out,” Joshua added before you could stop him.

“Oh, and she hasn’t told him,” Joshua finished, arms crossed.

Wonwoo gave you the slowest blink known to man. “You will tell him, right?”

You offered a shrug and a weak smile.

“Y/N!” They both yelled, startling you into a small jump.

“Okay, okay!” you snapped. “It’s not like I’m trying to ruin his life. If I fall for him, it’s mutual happiness!”

Wonwoo scoffed. “And if you don’t? Then what, you get a byline and he gets heartbreak?”

You groaned. “Fine, I’ll tell him. Eventually.”

Joshua narrowed his eyes. “Don’t wait for him to find out, Y/N. Please.”

You gave a tiny, guilty nod and quickly grabbed your bag. “Okay, well. Work calls!”

~~At the office, Keira looked up as you handed her your notepad. “So? How was the date?”

“It was good. Just… a hangout. Some flirting. A lot of chemistry.”

Keira arched a brow. “Ooh. Promising.”

You grinned. “We ended up watching a movie at his place.”

You left out the part where Mingyu had practically rearranged your internal organs. No need for those notes on file.

Keira smirked. “Is he at least hot?”

You winced, cheeks heating again. “Very. Tall. Gorgeous. Kind. Built like a Greek statue sculpted from sunshine.”

“Aw, a muse,” she teased. “Wouldn’t it be funny if this article landed you a boyfriend?”

You laughed quietly, mostly to yourself. “Yeah. Hilarious.”

~~

Later that evening, you decided on a spontaneous plan: two bottles of soju, your favourite snacks, and Monsters Inc. You wanted a comfort movie, and for some insane reason, you wanted Mingyu there beside you.

You knocked on his apartment door, only to be greeted by Seokmin. “Hey Y/N, ooh movie night?” 

“Did we make plans?” He asked, smiling.

“No, but I brought soju and a Pixar classic. Just thought…” Your voice trailed off as another figure appeared from behind him.

She was wearing his shirt.

Your shirt.

The same oversized hoodie Mingyu once slipped over your shoulders when you complained about the chill in his car. The one that still faintly smelled like his cologne days later, when you returned it.

The girl stood in the entryway of his apartment, tugging the sleeves over her hands, barefoot and blinking blearily. “Oh—sorry. I didn’t know anyone was coming by,” she said, startled as her eyes landed on you.

She didn’t sound smug. Just surprised.

Still, it sent your stomach plummeting.

Your gaze darted to Mingyu standing a few feet behind her, hair slightly rumpled, holding a coffee mug. He looked as caught off guard as she did.

But he didn’t say anything.

No rushed explanation. No, hey, it’s not what it looks like.

Just silence.

You nodded slowly. “Right. Of course.”

Mingyu took a step forward. “Y/N—”

“No need to explain,” you said, your voice light, falsely bright. “We’re not anything.”

You weren’t angry. Not yet. Just hollow.

He opened his mouth again, but the words didn’t come fast enough. You were already backing up.

“Enjoy your evening,” you added, and turned around before he could try again.

—

Your hands were trembling by the time you made it to your door. You fumbled with your keys, hating yourself for it. You shouldn’t feel this way. You didn’t even know what the two of you were. You weren’t together. He hadn’t done anything wrong.

But it still felt like something in your chest had been kicked open.

“Y/N?”

Seokmin, who had followed you out, asked, his voice was soft, concerned. He’d seen you bolt past. Of course, he had.

You didn’t turn around. “Yeah?” You managed.

“Everything okay?”

You nodded, but your voice betrayed you. “Yeah. It’s fine.”

Seokmin stepped closer. “That girl, she actually–?”

You shrugged. “Don’t I don’t want to kno,w okay?”

He hesitated. “But, Y/N, you’ve got it all wrong.”

“I doubt it, thank you for checking on me, but I just need some space okay?” You glanced at him, your smile watery. He looked at you like he understood — and didn’t.

“If you need anything,” he offered gently, “just knock.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump as you slipped into your apartment.

~~

A knock rattled your front door.

You didn’t move.

You already knew who it was.

The knock came again, quieter this time. More hesitant.

“Y/N?” Mingyu’s voice filtered through. “Please. Just let me explain.”

You exhaled sharply, your eyes still fixed on the flickering screen in front of you.

Another pause. Then the door creaked open.

You’d left it unlocked. Stupid.

Mingyu stepped inside, still in the same clothes from earlier. His hoodie—the one now burned into your memory—was gone, replaced by a tight, uncomfortable silence.

You didn’t look at him.

“I saw your face,” he said quietly. “Please believe me when I tell you, nothing happened.”

You finally turned toward him, face unreadable. “She was wearing your shirt, the same one you let me wear.”

“I know.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Her name’s Jiwoo. She’s my assistant. We’ve been pulling extra hours for this new gallery thing and—” He sighed. “This morning, I spilled a full glass of orange juice on her shirt while we were working in the kitchen. I offered her something dry. It just happened to be that hoodie.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Convenient.”

“I get how it looked, but it wasn’t—” He took a step forward. “Y/N, it wasn’t anything.”

You tilted your head, your voice calm but cold. “And you couldn’t say that when I was standing there? When she walked out like that, and you just stood there like I caught you red-handed?”

Mingyu flinched. “I froze. You looked… devastated.”

“I was,” you said, standing now, arms crossed. “Because I trusted you.”

“You said we weren’t exclusive.”

“I said we weren’t ready for labels,” you shot back, “not that I wanted to see you playing dress-up with another girl five minutes after I left your bed.”

“That’s not fair,” he said, his voice tightening. “You’re twisting this into something it’s not.”

You stared at him for a long moment. “Maybe I am. Or maybe I just don’t want to be the fool again.”

Mingyu’s expression faltered. “I never meant to hurt you.”

You shrugged. “And yet.”

Silence filled the space between you.

He stepped back, the fight draining from his shoulders. “Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ve said what I came here to say.”

You nodded once, keeping your voice steady. “Thanks for the explanation.”

He hesitated. “If you ever want to talk—”

“I’ll let you know,” you interrupted, already turning away.

The door clicked shut behind him, but the ache didn’t leave with him.

It stayed. Quiet. Heavy. Unanswered.

~~ Later, curled into your couch, hair damp from a too-hot shower, you stared blankly at the muted credits of a movie you hadn’t really watched. The hoodie you had tossed into the laundry still sat in the basket, crumpled and untouched.

You weren’t mad.

You were hurt. Quietly. Deeply.

Because it was one thing to say “we’re not a thing.”

It was another time to be reminded of it in a hallway you used to share with him.

And it was something else entirely to realise you wanted to be one.

You crumpled where you stood, body folding inwards as the tears spilled freely.

Time blurred after that. You didn’t remember curling up on the couch, but that’s where Joshua found you hours later, wrapped in a blanket with a half-finished glass of wine on the table.

“Y/N, honey. Wake up.” His voice was soft as he knelt beside you, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek.

Your eyes blinked open, dazed. “Shua?”

“You’ve been asleep for hours,” he murmured, voice tender. “Thought I’d bring you back to your bed. Come on, bubs.”

He helped you up slowly, one arm wrapped around your shoulders as he guided you into your room. You didn’t fight him. You barely said a word.

“Y/N, what happened?” He asked gently once you were sitting on the edge of your bed.

You gave a hollow laugh. “Guess my article’s gone to shit.”

Joshua didn’t react. Just waited.

“Mingyu didn’t take it well?” He finally asked.

You shook your head. “He doesn’t know.” Your voice cracked. “I went over… and there was another girl, wearing his shirt, he claims it’s his assistant, and only wearing his shirt because”

Joshua sat down beside you, jaw clenched. “God.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s like Wonwoo all over again. I tried so hard with him… and when he found the right person, he just knew.”

You glanced up at him. “You think he’s found the right person?”

“I don’t know,” Joshua said honestly. “But I know you’re not okay.”

You nodded. “It’s just better if I stay away. Every time I’m around him, we end up tangled up in each other, and I can’t keep doing that. I just end up hurt.”

“So… you’re going to ghost him?”

You shook your head. “No. Just… not bother anymore. I’ll be polite. Distant.”

Joshua nodded slowly, then pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Men are idiots.”

You laughed weakly. “Amen to that.”

Joshua smiled and blew you a kiss as he stood. “I’ll give you space tonight, yeah? Just text me if you need anything.”

You nodded, curling up on your bed as the door closed gently behind him. ~~

The next few days blurred together. You managed to avoid Mingyu, though not exactly gracefully. You’d duck around corners, fake a phone call, or pretend you didn’t hear him when he called your name. Childish, maybe, but the alternative was worse.

You thought about scrapping the article altogether. Maybe turning it into something more generic—interviewing couples about when they fell in love, turning it into a cute, breezy column. Something that didn’t rip your heart out with every paragraph.

It was Friday evening, and you were halfway through a MasterChef marathon when you heard your bedroom door creak open.

“Y/N?”

You turned and saw Mingyu poking his head in, doe eyes wide and sheepish.

Your stomach dropped. “How did you get in?”

“Um. Joshua hyung let me in. Said something about my ‘big pitiful puppy energy.’”

You groaned and sat up, folding your arms. “What do you want?”

Mingyu stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him.

“You’ve been ignoring me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Have I?”

“You have,” he said quietly. “I told you she was my assistant, nothing happened between us.”

You sighed and admitted. “I know it just hurt to see you with her.”

He gave you a soft smile, “I understand, but you do not need to worry, I like you too much to screw it up.”

Your eyes widened. “I should have just listened, I screwed up–”

Mingyu cut you off with a kiss.

It was soft. Hesitant. Like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed. Like he didn’t want to scare you away.

“I don’t know what this is yet,” he said when he pulled back. “But I know I want more. I only want to be around you, only kiss you, hell even when we went climbing, even though we’d argued, I couldn’t stop smiling. The way you furrow your brows when you’re focused, the way you yell at me for being annoying… It’s like I’m drawn to you, even when you make me want to throw things.”

You laughed, and he smiled.

He sat down beside you on the bed, pulling you into his lap.

“I don’t know exactly what I feel,” he whispered, “but I know that when you walked out of my apartment crying, I wanted to run after you and kiss every tear away.”

Your heart was pounding.

He looked at you, eyes searching. “Tell me to go, and I will. But if there’s even a small part of you that wants to see where this goes…”

You didn’t let him finish. You leaned forward and kissed him again.

Mingyu kissed you back with the kind of softness that felt like a second chance—warm, hesitant, laced with something unspoken. You pulled away first, letting your forehead rest against his, catching your breath.

“You always say the sweetest things right before emotionally confusing me,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice light.

He laughed quietly. “What can I say? I’m a man of duality. I’ve got layers.”

You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t move from his lap. His arms were still around your waist, steady and grounding, like if he let go, one of you might float away.

“So,” you murmured, “what now?”

His hands moved in slow, absentminded circles on your lower back. “I don’t know. But I know I want to keep seeing you.”

“Even if I’m kind of a mess?”

“Especially because you’re a mess,” he teased gently.

You laughed, but it wobbled. “Gyu… I’m scared.”

“I know.” His voice softened. “Me too.”

The quiet stretched out again. You could hear the hum of the building's heating system and the faint sound of a neighbor’s TV. But inside this room, inside this little bubble the two of you created—things felt still. Tentative. Hopeful.

After a moment, he pulled back just enough to look at you properly. “How about a real date? Something simple. New. Clean slate.”

You lifted a brow. “You’re asking me out, Kim Mingyu?”

He grinned, his ears slightly pink. “I guess I am.”

“And will there be a warning if you plan on kissing me again? I need emotional prep time now, apparently.”

“Nope.” He smirked. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”

You groaned. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

He beamed at that, but then paused. “Friday?”

“Friday,” you echoed.

“Fancy?”

“How fancy are we talking?”

“Fancy enough to make you feel like you’re the only girl in the room.”

Goddamn him.

Your stomach flipped. You tried to play it cool, but your smile gave you away. “I’m going to wear heels, and I’m suing you if I trip.”

“I’ll catch you,” he said, standing up and helping you to your feet. “I always do.”

He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your cheek—a featherlight promise—and stepped toward the door.

“I’ll see you Friday,” he said, pausing at the threshold. “Try not to ghost me before then.”

You gave him a mock salute. “No promises.”

Mingyu laughed and disappeared down the hall, leaving you standing there like an idiot, grinning at the closed door.

And then your eyes landed on your desk.

On the black leather-bound notebook you hadn’t touched in days.

You walked over, hesitating as you opened it to the last page. The column you’d created—How Close Am I to Falling for Him?—mocked you in perfect, even handwriting. You stared at the number you’d written after your first date. A six.

You flipped the page and wrote one line at the top.

Date three: A ten. I’m so completely fucked.

Then, you closed the journal and shoved it into the drawer, burying it under a stack of abandoned notebooks. You weren’t ready to destroy it—but you didn’t want to look at it either.

Not tonight.

Not when you still hadn’t told him the truth.

Not when everything suddenly felt too close to something real.

You stared at the drawer for a second longer, then turned away and crawled back into bed.

This time, you let yourself smile as you pulled the blanket over your head.

Because whatever happened next—you’d deal with it.

After Friday.

[introspectiveextrovertive-blog]

Part 2 - 10am Ice Cream

Summer/Fall - 2021

The practice court was glistening, looking polished and beautiful as ever.

Paige was absolutely gliding. Her long legs carried her from one side of the court to the other, the basketball and her hand acting like compatible magnets. Her smile was wide and her laugh echoed throughout the room.

Azzi watched her best friend practice out of the corner of her eye, trying to be present while her new coaches gathered her and the other freshmen together. She couldn’t help but smile to herself, feeling so elated to finally be here, finally be on the same team as Paige again since Team USA.

Geno finished his speech to the Freshman and told them to disperse accordingly, hooking a slight finger at Azzi, silently telling her to come speak with him one on one. She nervously obliged.

“Azzi,” Geno started, his stance wide with his clipboard under his armpit and arms crossed, “I see massive potential in you. Show me what you can do these next few weeks and we’ll talk again, alright?”

Azzi, stunned she was pulled aside and the words that Geno said, stayed quiet and nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, Coach.” With that, Geno nodded once and tapped her shoulder with his clipboard, silently telling her to get on with practice.

Although Paige was across the room with the other upperclassmen taking a water break, she caught Azzi’s interaction with Geno. She shook her head and couldn’t help the grin making its way onto her face.

“What?” Aaliyah asked, turning herself to see what Paige was staring at.

Paige nodded her head at Geno and Azzi. She took a swig of her water and said, “She’s been here for two seconds and Geno already loves her. Classic Fudd move.”

Aaliyah let out a short laugh, looking on at the pair as well, “I’m jealous. You think she’s gonna start?”

“No doubt,” Paige said confidently, feeling a large sense of pride for her best friend.

Practice flew by after that, the team running drills and acclimating the freshmen. Paige and Azzi played together like they were always meant to, reading each other effortlessly and being the backcourt team of any coach’s dreams. Every time Azzi made a bucket, you would be sure to hear Paige loudly cheer her on, causing Azzi to blush at the flamboyant praise. She would smile and shake her head, still a little unbelieving that this would be her new normal for the next few years.

When Paige was feeling hot, Azzi made sure to let her know too - subtly tapping her back and giving her a thumbs up with a smile, not yet comfortable enough with the team to be any more extroverted than that.

At the end, Paige realized her cheeks hurt from smiling so much. She didn’t realize she could be this happy, especially at 8am practice.

Later, Paige and Azzi walked out of the court together, their eyes instantly blinded by the sun and skin feeling stifled by what remained of the Connecticut summer heat. Paige looked to Azzi, “Ice cream?”

Azzi laughed, confused, “It’s 10am.”

All Paige did was raise her eyebrows as if to say So what? and lead them both to her car.

She immediately threw on her summer playlist, Mary J. Blige blasting through the speakers. “I love this song,” Azzi laughed, singing out of tune with Paige, the windows rolled down, both their arms sticking out to feel the late August wind.

Paige looked over, her right hand casually on the steering wheel. She smiled, “I know.”

Azzi looked over at her now, feeling her smile softening and her eyes wandering Paige’s profile. She wore her glasses now after practice, which sat at the end of the bridge of her nose. Her long arm was slightly flexed as she manoeuvered the steering wheel, and her head was leaned slightly towards the window, exposing her sharp jaw and long neck to Azzi.

Azzi blinked and turned back to the road.

They arrived at the ice cream shop a few minutes later, Paige promptly putting in their orders without asking Azzi what she wanted. Azzi didn’t mind; she would have done the same if Paige hadn’t beat her to it.

They sat outside in the sun, no umbrella at their table, strawberry and chocolate soft serves in their hands. Paige leaned her head back slightly, basking in the warmth.

“So”, she licked around her cone, chocolate slightly dripping down her hand. “What’d you think of Geno in practice mode?”

“He’s kind of intimidating but in a “I really want to impress him way”, you know?”

“Yeah,” Paige smiled, “Feeling good about committing here? About UConn?”

Azzi nodded with a soft smile. “It’s everything and more to be honest. Everyone so far has been so kind and welcoming, the facilities and staff are awesome, and my dorm only smells a little like mildew.” Paige scoffs at that, shaking her head.

Azzi stares at her for a moment before continuing, “And I guess it’s pretty cool to be playing together again for the next few years.” She says it casually, but Paige knows her well enough to know when she’s bluffing. She decides to not push her in this moment, a rarity. They stare at each other for a long beat.

Strawberry ice cream begins to trail its way down Azzi’s pointer finger, almost making it to her wrist. With no napkins, Azzi breaks their staring contest to lick it clean with her tongue.

Paige watches the entire thing, unblinking. She swallows without realizing. “Yeah,” she says finally, “It is.”

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Crimson Ties ~ 18

CRIMSON TIES MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,675ish

Summary: The aftermath of the attack on the Stark residences.

Warning(s): rape, abuse, NSFW, death, violence, torture, guilt

Notes: This is another version of rough.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

There had been a large distraction, pulling Natasha, Bucky, and Rhodey away from Maria and Howard’s bedroom. Much more men had ambushed the other Stark residence than did yours. By the time they had realized that no one was with Howard or Maria, it was too late.

Natasha found Howard thrown over Maria, like he had tried to protect her. Both of their bodies were littered with bullet holes, showing that the Stane men held nothing back. Their blood was pooling on the floor and mixing together. Natasha choked on a sob as she fell to her knees, Rhodey and Bucky crashing into her as they rushed into the room.

Rhodey urgently called Tony, only for him to not pick up multiple times. Bucky had Dr. Banner and Dr. Cho over to the house before they knew it. Natasha called Peggy, informing her and Steve what had happened and urging them to get to Tony’s house fast.

The next minutes where both painful slow and like a raging river. Tony finally responded, revealing that Brock had attacked his house and raped you. Dr. Helen Cho was sent over immediately, Natasha driving her. Peggy was waiting on the steps for their arrival. Peggy quickly pulled the red head in for a hug as soon as she could.

“How bad is it?” Natasha asked as she pulled away. She was trying to push away the horror she had come across at the other Stark residence.

“Tony is eerily quiet,” Peggy responded. “He won’t let anyone besides Yelena, including himself, in to the room he has Y/N in.”

“And Brock?”

“Steve has him tied up in the basement. Pepper was his accomplice but she disappeared before we could grab her… But, Nat, Clint’s dead.” 

Natasha couldn’t help but double over and throw up before she could get inside. Peggy rubbed her back as Natasha coughed. How did everything go wrong within the matter of an day? And how did they not see this coming?

“Let’s get you sitting down,” Helen said, helping Peggy get Natasha inside. 

Happy was standing just inside and saw that Natasha needed help. He quickly went over and swapped places with Helen. “Go,” he urged. “They’re just down the hall to your left.”

“Thank you.” Helen slipped away with her things. She found Steve standing still, watching Tony who was sitting on the ground, staring at the door you were behind.

“Helen,” Steve breathed out when he noticed her. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course. I will head in and run a complete assessment.”

“She has wounds,” Tony rasped, a cool, darkness creeping into his tone. “On her head and… and…”

“I will make sure she gets taken care of, Tony. I promise.”

Tony didn’t move as Helen gently knocked on the door. Yelena opened it and ushered Helen in as soon as she knew who it was. The room you were in was dark aside for one of the lamps on the bedside table farthest from you. You were tucked into bed, blood streaks down your face. 

“I haven’t touched her,” Yelena whispered. “She’s unconscious.”

“I will need your help taking care of her wounds,” Helen told her.

“Okay.”

The two women worked quickly and quietly, trying not to disturb you as best as they could. Yelena could help but feel guilty, like if she was awake she could have helped you. Especially as she saw the bruises and blood across your naked body.

Outside the room, Bucky and Rhodey arrived. They need to get out of that other house and reconvene with those on their side that were still alive. Bucky immediately went to Natasha’s side, who was trembling on the couch with Peggy trying to soothe her. Rhodey went over to were Steve and Happy were watching over Tony.

“Has he said anything?” Rhodey whispered.

Steve shook his head. “Nothing,” he replied quietly.

“It’s getting scary,” admitted Happy.

“Let me try,” Rhodey said. He walked over to Tony and sat down beside him. 

“How did this happen?” Tony rasped, feeling his friend at his side. “How can my world come crumbling down in one night?”

“I’m so sorry, Tony.”

“How—“ Tony’s voice cracked as his eyes filled with tears, the weight of everything crashing onto his shoulders. “I can’t do this… I’m not ready. For any of it… I’m not ready to burry my parents. I’m not ready to lead the business… And I’m certainly not ready to be the person Y/N will need me to be.”

“One thing at a time. Focus on Y/N. The rest of us can help with everything else.”

“How the hell did this happen? How did we not catch whiff of this sooner?”

“I’m trying to figure that out. The Odinson brothers, Thor and Loki, are getting the other house cleaned up and see who we have left.”

“Good. I trust them.”

“I know.”

“We need to get the bodies cleaned up here. Clint—“ Tony paused, taking a deep breath. “Clint’s body is in front of Y/N’s studio. I had Happy put a blanket over him.”

“I’ll handle it.”

“If Clint hadn’t… If he hadn’t knocked over that vase, Rumlow would have made it out of here with Y/N and we may never have seen her again… I will forever owe him… But I will never be able to repay him for his sacrifice.”

“We can take down Stane and his empire in the name of Clint and your parents. Is Rumlow downstairs?”

Tony’s jaw clenched as his eyes darkened. “Yes. And it’s about time we should do something about that.” Tony stood up, using the wall for support. He rolled his shoulders back and looked over at Happy. “I need you to stay up here and make sure that Y/N doesn’t need anything.”

“On it, Boss,” Happy responded with a nod.

Tony then looked over at Steve. “Gather anyone else who wants to and meet me downstairs. We deal with Rumlow tonight.”

They all watched as Tony disappeared into his office, where the stairs that led down to the cold basement were. 

Steve let out a long exhale. “He’s not going to recover from this,” he stated. “He’s rarely ever gotten his hands dirty.”

“He’s capable of it,” Rhodey said. “And he’ll do it… for Y/N.”

~~~

The basement was only used for business meetings gone wrong or when someone needed to be taught a lesson. There were small, cement rooms along one of the walls. There was no windows anywhere. It was cold and damp. Along another wall were various weapons and devices for torture.

Rumlow was tied to a metal chair in the center of the basement. His wound from were Tony had shot him had been taken care of enough to slow the bleeding. Dying from a bullet wound would be too kind of a death for this man.

Steve, Rhodey, and Bucky came down first, glaring at the man in the center. Tony was still in his office, mentally preparing himself for what he was about to do, with Peggy and Natasha came in.

“We want at him,” Natasha’s anger was evident.

“Of course,” Tony responded. “I need you to know that he will not come out of that basement alive.”

“We know.”

Tony’s nodded. “Good. Let’s go.”

Tony led the way down the stairs, the women following. His footsteps carried the weight of what happened as well as his anger. He stopped just inches away from Brock, who looked up at him with a sickening smirk.

“Admit it, Stark,” Brock rasped, “you’re jealous that I got to her first.”

Tony smacked Brock, his face whipping to the side. “You will never talk about her again.”

Brock laughed, blood trickling from his nose. “She was so warm and tight—“

Tony kicked the chair back. Rumlow fell with the chair, hitting his head on the cement floor. “I need the garden shears.” Bucky moved without a word, grabbing the requested tool and handing it over to Tony. “Hold him down.” Steve came over and joined Bucky in holding Rumlow down. “How did you get the information needed for your attack?”

“It was easy. You shouldn’t ignore a woman like your mistress, Stark. She was very useful.”

Tony thought his heart stopped right then. Pepper had been behind it. She had handed over information to the enemy and Tony didn’t even noticed.

“It was so easy for her, Stark,” Brock continued. “You kept pushing her off, only making it possible for her to get us the information we needed. And she was so willing to do what it took to make sure Y/N got out of the picture. Tell me, Tony, were we at least successful in killing your parents?”

Tony punched Brock. “I’m done. There’s nothing you can say to save yourself or fix what you have done. I need his mouth held open.”

“I have something better,” Natasha said. She walked over to one of the cabinets and pulled out a syringed and vial. “Banner made this. It will immobilize him but he will be able to feel everything that happens to him.”

“Do it.”

Natasha wasted no time, injecting the entire serum into Brock. Steve and Bucky held the man’s mouth open, allowing Tony to cut his tongue off. Blood gushed down Brock’s throat as well as out of his mouth and down his chin.

“I need the saw,” Tony requested next. Rhodey gave him the saw. “I need his dick out.” Rhodey moved quickly, obeying his boss. Tony quickly sawed Brock’s dick off and stuffed it in the man’s mouth, pushing it down his throat. He motioned for Steve and Bucky to sit him back up before he leaned in next to Brock’s ear. “You deserve to so much more than what else will happen tonight. If I had the patience, you would rot down here for weeks before you died. But I can’t stand the thought of you near Y/N, even like this. You will die tonight.”

~~~

You were in and out of consciousness. But Yelena and Helen carefully took care of you, cleaning and bandaging you up. They slipped a nightgown on you and tucked you back in as soon as they were done.

“Tony…” You gasped. “Tony…”

“Do you want me to get him?” Yelena wondered.

“T—T—Tony…”

“Y/N, I need to know. You’ve got to tell me.”

“Please…”

~~~

Everyone watched as Tony punched Brock, over and over again. They felt no remorse towards the man being attacked and didn’t bother with trying to stop Tony. 

“Boss!” Happy called from the bottom of the stairs. “Boss!”

Tony kept going, in a blind rage. Rhodey stepped closer.

“Tony!” Rhodey shouted.

“What?!” Tony spun around, blood was splattered everywhere on him. “What could I possibly be needed for?”

“It’s Y/N,” Happy answered. “She’s asked for you.”

The hardness and anger softened at the mention of you asking for him. Tony looked over at the two women nearby. “Romanoff, Carter. Do whatever you want else with him. As soon as he’s dead, I want him left on Stane’s doorstep. Tony couldn’t move faster, once he had even his orders. He pushed past Happy and ran up the stairs. Happy chased after him.

“Hold up, Tony!” Happy caught his arm.

“She asked for me. I need to be there! Let go!” Tony demanded, pulling his arm free.

“You can’t go to her like that. You’re covered in blood.” Tony glanced down and saw that Happy was right. “I’ll let Yelena know that you’re cleaning up and will be right there.”

“Right. Thanks.”

~~~

Yelena was standing outside, whispering with Helen, when Tony came up to the door. He was clean and nervous as all hell.

“Mr. Stark, Y/N is… she’s struggling,” Helen admitted, knowing it would not do well to hide anything from Tony. “She’s slipping in and out of consciousness. She’s… She has stitches in a few places around her face from the pottery being broken against her. Y/N’s vaginal opening is torn and may bleed for a few days as it heals. She has bruises that will take days to heal.”

“But she asked for me?” Tony wondered.

Yelena sighed. “It’s the best we can guess that she wants you. She’s not speaking in full sentences. Just a word or two at a time. Her eyes are unfocused.”

“Yes,” Helen agreed. “She also has a concussion.”

“But I can see her?” Tony wondered again.

“I’m going to let you see her,” Yelena said, “but I need you to listen to me carefully. Y/N is not okay and she won’t be for a long time—if ever. She doesn’t need Anthony Stark, the head of the Stark family right now. She needs Tony. She needs the man who has become her friend. The man who glued together a vase he broke and who learned how to fix a pottery wheel for her. Y/N doesn’t need promises of more violence or revenge. Do you understand this?”

“I understand.”

“I won’t go in, but the door remains ajar, so that I can step in if necessary. Don’t touch her, don’t pressure her into anything. You go at her pace. Not yours. Got it?”

“I got it.”

Yelena took a deep breath before pushing the door open and headed back into the room. Tony stayed in the door way, watching Yelena go over to you.

“Y/N,” she softly called. You groaned, head moving to face her but eyes remaining closed. “Tony’s here.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You didn’t remember asking for Tony, but you could have because you’ve been in and out, not fully aware of everything. A part of you wanted to see Tony and a part of you was terrified. What if he hated you? What if he blamed you for Brock raping you? But if you told Yelena you didn’t want to see him, would Tony just barge his way in here? He had every right to. He is your husband and you were suppose to grant him everything, or that’s what your father had always said.

“Can he come in?” Yelena asked, wanting to double check with you.

“S—sure,” you rasped.

Yelena turned around and motioned with her head for Tony to come over.  Tony timidly entered the room, slowly walking towards you. Yelena gave him one last look of warning before she left to stand outside the room. Tony’s eyes examined you, pausing at each bandage and bruise. Your eyes were closed, and he then realized how much he loved your eye color.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said softly, giving your a fair amount of space from him. 

“T—Tony…” you rasped, tears collecting in your eyes as you slowly opened them. Your eyes landed on him. “I’m sorry.”

Tony thought he’s heart couldn’t shatter anymore. This was the hardest blow of the night. “What?”

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop him. I’m sorry. I let him hurt me. I—“

“Hey! No, no, no, no, no. Stop that. Please.” 

Tony moved too quickly, too caught up in trying to get you to stop apologizing. You lurched back against the headboard, hitting your head as you tried to put more space between the two of you. Yelena was back in the room in a second. She grabbed Tony’s arm and pulled him out of the room. She shut the door in his face before he could say anything else. Your chest tightened, and before you could stop it, an intense tremor ran through your body. The sobs ripped through your lips and Yelena was at your side in an instance. 

Tony’s own tears fell as he leaned his forehead against the door and listened to your heartbreaking sobs. If this is how you were doing just because of the rape, he couldn’t stand to think of how much deeper you would fall when you found out that his parents and Clint were dead. There may be no pulling you back from that.

next chapter >

[slytherin-pen]

An Emissary’s Vacation

pairing: Lucien x Reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: some drinking

tags: no use of y/n, reader has long hair, fluff

a/n: written for day 6 of @sjmxreaderweek

summary: Lucien finally gets a much needed vacation and brings you along with him.

Lucien Masterlist

The sound of seagulls wheeling overhead and the faint crash of waves were what finally pulled you from the heavy, luxurious tangle of sleep.

You had briefly forgotten where you were, but as you blinked against the warm, golden sunlight spilling through gauzy curtains, you remembered arriving at Adriata Palace last night just in time for dinner. After Lucien helped bridge an alliance between the Spring and Summer Court in an effort to help both of them rebuild and feed their people without coming at a great cost to either court, High Lord Tarquin had offered him a week long vacation in the capital city.

Lucien had at first denied the offer, saying there was too much work to be done. So Tarquin had changed tactics and framed it as an opportunity to better learn first hand what the Summer Court needs and has to offer Spring. Lucien was grateful Tarquin had changed his mind when he had informed you of his plans and you practically flew across the room into his arms, bouncing up and down and squealing with excitement.

You stretched your arms over your head with a satisfied sigh. Every muscle in your body was deliciously lazy, boneless from a night tangled in sun-kissed sheets and a certain red-haired male who even now had his arm draped possessively around your waist.

“Morning, sunshine,” Lucien’s voice was low and amused against the back of your neck, his breath warm.

You twisted to face him, heart melting a little at the sight—hair tousled, a sleepy grin pulling at his mouth, russet eye gleaming even as the mechanical one whirred quietly to adjust to the bright light. He looked completely at ease, for once starting a day where he did not need to mull over reports or entertain haughty advisors.

“What time is it?” you murmured, running a hand through his hair.

He nuzzled into your palm like a cat. “Late. Very, very late.”

You laughed. “Perfect.”

The two of you finally managed to drag yourselves out of bed, still laughing and teasing each other as you stumbled down to a sprawling breakfast terrace overlooking the ocean. Adriata Palace was a dream with white stone and blue accents, wide open halls, and archways to the outside everywhere you turned.

The breakfast spread was almost comically huge. Platters of ripe fruit, flaky pastries, little silver pots of coffee and tea, and—your eyes lit up—pitchers of mimosas.

Lucien caught your gaze and smirked. “Don’t mind if I do,” he said, pouring two glasses.

You clinked them together with an exaggerated cheers and sipped, the sparkling citrus flavor exploding on your tongue. Lucien popped a grape into your mouth, then stole a strawberry from your plate, grinning mischievously the whole time.

“Best vacation decision we’ve ever made,” you declared around your mimosa.

“Agreed.” He raised his glass to you. “To sunshine, mimosas, and you in a swimsuit.”

You mock-glared at him, but the heat in his gaze had you laughing again.

By early afternoon, you found yourselves barefoot on the warm sand, the scent of salt thick in the air. A dark-skinned Summer Court male with long braided hair introduced himself as Kailo and offered surfing lessons with a wide, easy smile.

Lucien gave you a devilish look. “You up for it?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re on, Vanserra.”

It started off about as gracefully as expected. You falling off the board almost immediately and Lucien howling with laughter from the shallows. You surfaced spluttering, flipping wet hair from your face.

“Oh, you’re so dead,” you gasped, launching a splash attack at him.

He only laughed harder, dodging and sending his own wave of water at you.

Kailo watched the two of you with amusement, patiently demonstrating how to balance on the board. Lucien, predictably, was a natural, managing to ride a small wave almost immediately.

Show-off.

You, meanwhile, wiped out over and over again, salt stinging your nose, board tumbling away.

“Bend your knees more, sunshine!” Lucien called from where he was floating nearby. “And less flailing! You’re not fighting a sea monster!”

“I am fighting for my life, you menace!” you shouted back.

But eventually—after at least a dozen tries—you caught a small wave. And this time, you stayed up. Wobbling wildly, arms pinwheeling, but riding it all the way to shore.

You crashed onto the sand with an undignified thud, panting and triumphant.

Lucien was already sprinting up the beach toward you, whooping loudly. He grabbed you and spun you around, soaking wet and laughing so hard you could barely breathe.

“You did it!” he cheered. “You magnificent, beautiful, stubborn creature!”

You laughed until tears ran down your cheeks, pressing a salty kiss to his mouth, still high on adrenaline and sun.

Later, after drying off and wandering along the shoreline, you and Lucien collected seashells and sand dollars like children.

“This one looks like your face when you wipe out,” Lucien said solemnly, holding up a particularly derpy-looking shell with a broken edge.

You tried to tackle him, both of you shrieking with laughter as you wrestled in the surf.

Afterward, you challenged him to a sandcastle-building contest.

Lucien took it very seriously, conjuring little shovels and buckets with a wave of his hand. His castle had towering spires and a perfectly sculpted moat. Yours… was more creative. A chaotic mess of shells, driftwood, and tiny flags made of seaweed.

When you presented them to a passing Summer Court child to judge, they declared yours the winner because, “It’s a pirate fort and pirates are cool.”

Lucien’s look of betrayal was so dramatic you nearly fell over laughing.

He draped himself across the sand. “This is an outrage. A travesty.”

You placed a strand of seaweed above his upper lip to resemble a mustache. “You’ll live, my lord.”

That night, High Lord Tarquin hosted a bonfire party on the beach.

Music drifted over the water and faelights floated in the air like tiny stars. Tables were laden with food and drink, and the bonfire at the center roared high into the night sky.

You lost track of how many drinks you had, your body buzzing and warm, sand between your toes. Lucien spun you in wild, clumsy circles, both of you laughing uncontrollably.

At some point, someone handed you a bottle of something strong and sweet, and you took a swig that set your whole face on fire.

You didn’t even remember why you started running down the beach—only that the world was spinning delightfully and you felt like you could fly.

Lucien shouted your name behind you, laughing, but you didn’t stop, bolting barefoot down the moonlit sand, your laughter wild and manic, hair streaming out behind you like a comet.

“Get back here, you menace!” he bellowed, giving chase.

You shrieked with laughter, zigzagging like a drunken deer.

Lucien was faster. He tackled you gently into the sand, both of you rolling in a tangled heap, breathless and wheezing with laughter.

“You are absolutely—” he gasped, “—out of your damn mind.”

You grinned up at him, dizzy and stupidly in love. “Takes one to know one, Vanserra.”

He kissed you then, tasting like wine, before slinging you over his shoulder with a groan.

“Come on, drunky. Time to get you to bed before you start swimming to another continent.”

You were too busy laughing to protest.

Back in your room at the palace, Lucien deposited you gently on the bed.

You sprawled dramatically, half-off the mattress, legs touching the floor.

Lucien shook his head fondly, kneeling beside you. “Alright, love, let’s get you sorted.”

You blinked up at him, trying to focus. “I’m fiiiiine.”

“Mmm.” He pulled your makeup wipes from your bag and very carefully started wiping away the smudged mascara and glitter clinging to your cheeks. His touch was so gentle it made your heart ache.

“Such a pretty mess,” he murmured, smoothing your hair back from your forehead.

You batted at him weakly. “You’re such a rake.”

Once your face was clean, he helped you sit up and wrangle yourself into pajamas—an oversized shirt that you promptly got stuck halfway through putting on. Lucien laughed helplessly, extricating your arms with the patience of a saint.

When you finally collapsed back onto the pillows, properly dressed and mostly clean, he joined you, pulling the blankets up and tucking you against his bare chest.

The world was still spinning slightly, but in Lucien’s arms, you felt slightly better.

“This was the best day ever,” you mumbled into his chest, your voice thick with sleep.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Yes, it was.”

“What do you wanna do tomorrow?” you slurred.

Lucien chuckled. “Maybe… a little less drinking. And more shell hunting. I want to find the biggest sand dollar on the beach and gift it to you.”

You beamed up at him. “Best mate ever.”

His russet eye softened. “Impossible. Not when you exist.”

Your heart stuttered. Your bottom lip wobbled. “You’re going to make me cry.”

Lucien tutted, caressing your cheek with his palm before kissing you again, slower this time.

Wrapped in each other’s arms, the sound of the waves outside your window, you drifted into sleep.

taglist: @tele86 @pham-tastical @viktoriaashleyyx

[missust3l3vision]

FINALLY SOMEONE WHO WRITES FOR JOOST

Would you be willing to do a fic with Joost and his stylist dating?

EEEK!! YEAH I LOVE HIM

Here you go my dearest anon

Description: Joost and his stylist/girlfriend have a calm night, with him falling even deeper in love with her.

You never in a million years thought you'd be here. Sitting next to Joost Klein as you sketched his next outfit for the tour.

You were not only is girlfriend but his stylist aswell. It was your job for the man to be on theme but also look good.

He was having a 2000s meets corporate look right now, and she thought he looked very handsome. She let him know it often.

"I think the tie should be fat" Joost said pointing at the blue and yellow striped tie on the models shirt.

"Or should I open up your shirt and show off some skin?" She said tapping the end of the pen on the edge of her tablet.

"Ooo scandalous" he said kissing your cheek "I hope nobody falls in love with me and steals me away from you" He jokes

"If that happened I'd be proud to be your designer and heartbroken as your girlfriend" Y/n responded not looking up from the tablet.

Looking over to the woman he grew to love he couldn't help but feel proud. She was incredibly talented and directed all her artistic skills on him. She was the one to suggest the blue suit for Eurovision and was there to hold him when he was disqualified.

Snapping back to reality Joost chuckled, discarding his headphones he stood up, several pops coming from his back as he twisted. Looking down at his girlfriend he felt a warmth surge through him.

"Should we get dinner?" He asked remembering the time it was. The sky had a soft Indigo hue as it shifted from day to night. It was common for the couple to not eat supper until seven.

"Yeah I guess" she saved the design before switching off the tablet "I'd be down to go out. I want to get some fresh air" she suggested to a nodding man.

As the two ventured off they both silently agreed to go to the Vietnamese place around the corner. It was their go to on late nights like today.

The jingling bell alerted the servers of their arrival as they sat down and ordered. Getting their usuals they rolled into small talk. Joost bringing up some Tik Tok ideas and what he wanted to wear in them.

It was easy talking to Joost, he was charismatic without trying.

"There's one that I really need to be exactly how I envision it oke?" He says with serious eyes. You give him an earnest nod as he explains "It needs to be like one of those I ♡ NY shirts, but instead it say I ♡ Unity. Think you can pull it off?"

As you two share a look you burst out laughing, receiving your food.

"I will need to make some calls, but I think we can make it happen" as the conversation carries on, the warm feeling in Joosts body didn't fade it got stronger.

Once the food was eaten and the bill paid the two walked back their shared flat.

"I love you" Joost said as you walked, the cool night painting a picture behind you. Joost turned to fully face you.

"I love you too" she said as she took his hands in hers, "You're all I want" he gave her a genuine grin leaned down for a kiss, meeting her halfway the two stood there for a moment, the world nothing to them.

No worries, no issues, and best of all no interruptions.

[ericscroptop]

Good Boy, Bad Boy

✧ pairing: hybrid puppyboy bf! eric x gf! reader

✦ genre: smut

✧ warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), smut, female receiving, fingering, oral, face fucking, p!ssy drunk eric, cursing, dumbification, panty sniffing, male masturbation, squirting, slight degradation, power play, praise kink, pet names, kissing, aftercare, slightly dom! reader + subby! eric, hybrid au

✦ word count: 3.7k words

✧ synopsis: having a hybrid boyfriend isn’t for the weak.

𐂯 ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ 𐂯 ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ 𐂯 ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ 𐂯 ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ 𐂯 ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ 𐂯 ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

After another day of serving as a slave to capitalism, you trudge tiredly towards your door, unlocking it with anticipation of settling your weight on some pillowy-cushions and getting out of these confining clothes you’ve had on for hours. Perhaps you’ll even take a nap or have an adult beverage to decompress.

When you walk in, there’s no hesitation in taking your shoes off first. You then walk to the nearest sofa, sluggishly dropping your items, having no regard for them.

What you do start to care for though, is where your boyfriend was.

Even after being together for countless months, he’d usually be waiting to greet you, running towards your figure with his tail wagging a million miles per minute, curling up into your arms and nuzzling his scent all over you.

He awaited for your arrival each and every time you went out. From work, to when you went out solo for errands, or out late having fun with some friends. He’d even message you to check up on you during your breaks or outings, or when you arrived and were departing from a location. He was protective and darling like that.

Tucking some hair behind your ear with a huff, you looked aimlessly around the space in front of you. You suddenly remember you had asked Eric if he could put in a load of laundry, but it didn’t sound like the washer or dryer is on. He could be in the process of folding the clothes.

It still doesn’t explain how he didn’t greet you immediately. With how clingy Eric gets and his wide range of hearing, it’s abnormal for him to not drop whatever he’s doing to jump on you as soon as you pulled up to the house.

The bedroom is where you seek first when the main rooms lack his presence and honestly, nothing could’ve prepared you for what sight was behind that door.

It’s messy and lewd. Bare ass in the air and knees on the floor, your boyfriend is found surrounded by various pairs of your panties, from boy shorts, to thongs, to even the most ordinary and worn-out pair you own.

Actively rutting the ground, a hand of his is angled up holding one of the pairs up to his nostrils, simultaneously sniffing your undies furiously as he looks for any kind of sexual alleviation through downward thrusts.

You really wish you could say you would never expect this behavior out of him. But considering his breed, you ought to know that he was a roguish and naughty mutt. Too playful and daring with his antics, keeping you on your toes with his playful, boisterous energy. Energy that could also manifest through sexual frustration.

Heavy breaths paired with distressed whimpers and flushed red, shiny sweating skin indicated that he’d been in some sort of heat for a while now. Your poor boy just needed some help and relief. How could you be pissed?

It isn’t until you pay closer attention to your underwear around him that dry drizzles and gobs of cum stained your precious undergarments. Furthermore, your face contorts into a grimace when you see that one or two pairs have been ripped, probably from how beyond pent-up he was. There was no freaking way.

“Excuse me, sir?” you finally speak up, looking at your boyfriend dead in the eyes, mouth straight with seriousness.

His fluffy ears perk up at your voice and he stiffens when he sees you in the flesh, dropping the garment immediately at being caught.

“Baby?” his voice cracks, sitting up on his knees with guilty, fearful eyes. He bats his eyelashes at you nervously, whimpering when you take a few steps forward.

“I thought you were going to do laundry?” you nod to your dirty panties, him following your gaze hesitantly, mortified to have gotten himself caught in this mess.

“It’s not what it looks like! I… I just—”

“You really missed me?” you cooed in an exaggerated, mocking tone. He avoids your eyes, knowing you’re not forgiving at all.

“So much that you had to fuck yourself stupid to my underwear?” you scoffed, reaching down to grab a random pair, inspecting it closely to see the rips of fabric, along with the viscous fluid of his splattered. It makes you frown, sighing in defeat.

“This was my favorite pair, Eric! What the hell?” you hold it up to him, waving it in his face to get your point across, then throwing it on him out of him having the nerve to go that far.

Your tone and confrontation makes him wince, ears falling flat on his head from the embarrassment.

“I’ll buy you a new pair! I promise, baby.” he voices, lips almost pouting and eyes covered in shame.

You’ve got to admit, seeing his glossy eyes like he’s ready to weep any minute now is tugging at your heartstrings. And the sickening side of you is finding this not only amusing, but also flattering.

He repeatedly was sniffing your used, unwashed underwear that contained natural secretions like your discharge just to catch the scent of your sex. There was some fascination to how attracted and attached he was to you. It might be absurd and exceedingly indecent, but knowing he needed you this bad that he went to these lengths is so…. hot.

A mere whiff of your signature smell and pheromones was like drugs to his senses. He was just a poor, needy puppyboy that needed his baby to take care of him. That was your boyfriend.

“Go get your collar and leash.” you breathe out, ignoring his words.

Eric blinks rapidly, ears slowly rising up again from those well-known words that come out your mouth, his adam’s apple bopping nervously.

“What?” he croaks. He knows what you mean, but anxiety eats at him for whatever you have planned up your sleeve, knowing that when you order him to get said items, it’s for punishment purposes.

“You heard me.” you say casually, your face telling him that you’re not accepting any ounce of defiance.

Despite the slight jut of his lips, he complies, abandoning the mess he’s made to rise and follow towards the special drawer full of adult toys and other accessories.

He kindly grabs the specific items, walking back with them clutched up and dropping to his knees right in front of you already sat on the bed.

Trying to prevent the smirk that wants to pull upwards is a difficulty as you take them from his hands. His hands are folded in his lap with shy eyes that can’t even dare to look at you properly while you begin to fasten the black leather collar around his neck. You adjust it so that it’s snug, but not too tight or loose.

Testing the fitting, you bring two fingers under the strap, to which go through perfectly. You then clasp the metal chain leash to his collar, the jingling of the chain raising the hairs on Eric’s skin and ears twitching from the noise.

While you worked on getting the restraining accessories on, he’d sneak glances at you while you worked. He licked at his lips and swallowed thickly, your face so up close and personal, such an intimate scene of you making him wear this symbol of submission.

“See? You can be a good boy when you want to be.” you teased, fingers reaching to rake gently over his blonde wisps of hair, his face looking down and still refusing to meet you despite his tail moving timidly.

He feels and looks pathetic with the collar and leash on, fulfilling his punishment of displaying your ownership over him. He definitely looks the part of a mutt.

But even with these items of discipline on, his body says it’s not a mockery otherwise. His tail is making movement from your comment, cheeks rosy with a proud, blushing hard cock to match.

This is like some sort of kink for him as it is for you. He’d really do anything for your attention, even if it was meant to be a bit degrading.

“Such a pretty boy.” you compliment, reaching for his jaw gently to raise his head up level with your face, stroking his chin.

His eyes are full of light and solace as he lets himself be touched fondly by your hand, soaking him all in with a soft smile. Even if he tore your undergarments and did the complete opposite of what you asked, you couldn’t resist his sweet, handsome being.

Eric leans his face down into your lap, pressing his cheek cutely into one of your thighs. He then presses some mellow kisses into your limb, looking up at you with revere and sparkling pupils.

“Such a needy puppy.” you murmur, loosely petting his strands, even brushing your fingertips just slightly past his ears, making them flicker, a quick low but audible whine coming out from his throat at your teasing.

“Since it looks like you’ve came so many times, it’s only fair you help me, hm.”

He raises his head up, a twinkle striking his eyes once you say that. They follow your hands as you move them to the waistband of your bottoms, your mouth curling upwards as he watches you intently.

He backs up just enough to allow you to slide off your bottoms, panties still on. Saliva collects in his mouth, salivating at the awaited moment of being able to touch you intimately. No matter how many times he got his hands on you, it’d always be a privilege to be graced with your body.

With the spread of your legs, you drive Eric crazy some more with your clothed pussy— well… barely clothed, anyways. The fabric of your thin panties ride up in between your lips, growing uncomfortable. Oh how he wants to use his teeth to pull them out and rip them to the side.

“C’mere baby boy.” you cooed with the soft roll of your hips, growing worked up, moaning in relief as you end your suffering with tugging off that mangey thong.

“You’re only allowed to eat me out. Not taking care of you right now.” you warn, making it known that this time is all about yours needs.

That’s fine with Eric, who is merely focused on the juicy folds between your legs. He’s absolutely ravenous and feral for your pussy, needing his mouth to taste and latch onto your sex.

In fact, you’re wrong. Eating your pussy also works in his favor, satisfying his needs of basking his face in nothing but your Godly sex. Being stuck in between the most intimate part of your body was his dream; He’d be buried face-deep inside your pussy for the rest of his life if it were possible.

He starts off with delicate kisses along your inner thigh, dragging his nose and lips over your skin in a teasing manner that doesn’t last long before he inches up towards your hot sex.

He can already smell your arousal, his cock throbbing from excitement.

Any morals or education is no where to be found in his brain when he meets your cunt. Your glowing pussy pulls him in, diving to capture your fleshy lower lips in a passionate, raw kiss.

Shaky breaths release from your mouth, breathily laughing with a bite on your lower lip when he doesn’t dare on holding back.

Groans of satisfaction rumbled from his throat from a mixture of the whiff he’s getting and of your taste. It’s at that moment that he loses himself in your sex, but he’s still in the right place. How could he ever want to be apart from your prized pussy?

He’s an eager eater, giving your folds some sloppy kisses and making his way towards your clit, darting his tongue out messily all around the edges and in between creases.

Once he reaches your clit, he puckers at the swelling bud, to which sends a shiver spiraling across your body. He targets the spots surrounding your clit with the tip of his tongue, licking circles around your aching nub that’s sizzling with need.

After dancing around your clit with mischief for a bit, he turns your feeble moans into ones with more strength as soon as his tongue is positioned right under your clit, wrapping his lips around the nub.

“Aghh, mhm— I can’t.” your fingers clutch the sheets, nerves tickled and attacked ferociously straight on. The growls in between your legs mixed with him toying with the nerve-rich spot is coming at you head-strong.

It’s too much right away, your eyes rolling and back arching from the immense pleasure and almost-painful pressure on your bud. His attention is fully stuck on it, showing so much emotion and energy towards it.

You can’t handle how strong he is, as well as how he’s always a greedy ass motherfucker. Luckily his chain is within reach, so you stretch weakly and grasp it, pulling him back meanly before you actually spasm like crazy.

“Easy, Eric!” you breathe out, making him whine at the semi-aggressive tug.

“Take your time, silly. I’m not going anywhere.” you spread your legs out further, inviting him back in.

Eric whimpers, lolling his tongue in a haze while he goes back in, focusing on your hole this time.

Drool falls out from his mouth lazily, falling over your pussy lips. He smears it like paint with his lips and tongue, using his head and neck for majority of the movement.

“Good boy.” you praised, making him moan as soon as those words fall past your lips, dropping a couple more kisses against your sex like he’s on the verge of losing you, never wanting to let you go.

“Pretty pussy.” he mumbles, raising his dominant hand up your sweet cunt, just barely using the pads of his fingers to massage your folds.

Your left hand travels beneath your top, slithering over your ignited skin up to one of your tits. You grope yourself, everything so tender yet feeling distressed.

A couple traces with his fingers later and then he’s inserting one of them up your hole. He wiggles and slides that digit up, collecting more wetness while listening to the sultry sounds of yours that just pile on continuously.

“You’re so fucking good.” he praises you when you adjust, your velvety walls taking him in smoothly. Some of your wetness trickles out your hole, leaving Eric to collect it with his tongue.

He then really starts to begin eating you out. Devotion spreads through every lick, slurp, plunge, and sound. He eats and eats like he’s been deprived of any meal for days. His finger stretches your cunt to play with your walls, curling and angling his finger to hit all of your fine spots. He even uses it as aid to squeeze in his tongue to thrust into your tight hole, flicking and slobbering all over.

“Mmph! Baby…” you cried, fiddling with your nipple harshly as his actions are deliciously loud and ardent. Crying out is something that doesn’t falter as he persists, surprising you every second with more zaps of pleasure even when you think it can’t get greater.

A second finger moves up your slit, his girthy digits filling you up so well that it feels like you’re being choked in the best way possible, losing your breath from the feeling.

His digits finger and hit sacred spots of you continually while he directs his face to other parts of your cunt. He wouldn’t dare leave any part of your sex unattended.

When his mouth lands back on your clit, you heave and cry out like a baby. Although his movements never halt, they vary in rhythm. His mouth alternates between various patterns and motions. One minute he’d be curling his tongue over and in your hole, and the next he’d be brushing it faintly along your clit, joined by heated suckling.

And even though he was frenzied and intense when it came to your pussy, his ministrations were calculated and expert-level. Sure he got too excited pretty much all the time. But at least he always knew how exactly to make your knot untie in the end.

The pointy tip of his tongue, flat of his tongue, and fingers work tirelessly to expel your cum. He plays with every bit of flesh, fold, and nerve. Growls vibrate against your pussy, wetness coating Eric’s chin and nose, stuffing himself like the starving pup that he is.

As the concentration of pressure and tingling expands, mentally and physically, you’re aching to explode from the sparkly tension. Your clit throbs alongside your heart that is beating like it wants to jump out and soar into the sky.

A hand of yours lowers into Eric’s locks, tugging on his silky strands to encourage him to not let up. With every pull and even scratches past his sensitive ears, his mouth and fingers take steps forward through speed and intensity.

He moans deeply while his tongue flicks your clit crazily, moving as fast as a dog drinks water. His fingers dig deeper and apply more pressure, losing control of your body with an arched back, glossy eyes, and unintelligible mewls.

It’s beautifully excruciating. The throbbing of your sex is practically ringing in your ears. Eric scratches the itch with his mouth and digits, making your muscles spasm as you release with his face still down under.

The crash down is as delectable for him as it is for you. Hurriedly and in an animalistic manner, he slurps your spills, tasting that honeyed juice of yours, allowing it to soak his tastebuds until his cock is pulsing from overwhelming excitement.

He forcefully maneuvers your legs to where they have his head locked in your pussy like a prison, no means for escape. Like a mad man, he head-butts into your sopping, gummy cunt, getting you to roll your hips into his face and gladly suffocates in between your thighs.

With his strength, he has you rock and roll against the muscle of his tongue that doesn’t want to stop enjoying your sex. His dumb little hybrid brain is predatory to soak everything you’ve got out of you, deaf to the pleading sobs of overstimulation coming from your voice.

Control is completely loss. There’s no power for you to fight, your hips and limbs having a mind of their own. Tears streak down with feeble cries, lips and body trembling the more Eric licks your overaroused and strung out nerves.

Somehow, there still is punch left in you. That punch manifests in the way of a loud gasp and almost-scream, uncontrollably shaking and gushing a higher volume of liquid than normal.

Even if you wanted to hold back, it’s impossible. The leak is involuntary, your body unleashing it while your brain is fuzzy with a raging, burnt-out body that threatens to knock out.

The warm fluid that falls out from your sex is watery, warm to the taste as Eric doesn’t hesitate in catching whatever he can in his mouth and drinking it like he needs it to stay hydrated.

It drenches his face and runs down your butt, staining the sheets underneath you. Your boyfriend basically is snarling and growls at how charged your body gets him, his tongue and lips slurping the trail of fluid that leaks into the cracks of your ass.

It’s too fucking much. You can’t believe how he’s willing to push you so far to soak up every last drop and taste of you. You don’t even believe you’re real at this point.

“It hurts, please… Eric! That’s enough!” somehow you find the strength to grab his metal leash and and give it a yank for him to leave your sore cunt alone.

With some cries of his own, he’s pulled away finally. The heaves from you both and his chain clinking, along with a fuzzy ringing coats your ears.

Eric rises with a red hot, flushed face, licking his lips clean, drenched with sweat all over him. He looks at you, all beat, tiredness washing over you.

He looks straight at your eyes, less than halfway opened, rosy cheeks stained wet from tears that fell due to the overwhelming wash over you.

Thankfully he bounces back fairly fast, so ignoring his sticky tip that had a leak of its own thanks to how invested in your sex he was, he tends to you speedily.

“Baby, you alright? Talk to me, hm?” he asks gently but audibly, needing to desperately make sure he didn’t hurt you.

He cradles your face with both his hands, leaning down to lick your salty tears away, guilt beginning to creep on him again for letting his feral habits get the best of him.

The feeling of his tongue on your cheeks is enough to snap you out of numbness, smiling lazily with droopy lids.

Lifting a hand, you put it over one of his that was holding your cheek, feeling his calloused fingers against your daintier ones.

“You’re a fucking handful, you know that?” you sighed with a smile.

That comment elicits the most gorgeous laugh out of him, his eyes turning small from the genuine happiness that comes onto him from that weak, but still radiant smile of yours.

“I know.” he’s still smiling, falling next to you onto the bed despite how messy you two are down south.

Curling up next to you, you start threading through his hair, giving him pets and scratches, snuggling up to him as close as you can.

He wags his tail contentedly, making sounds of comfort as you do so.

You two even go awhile of just looking at one another through smiling eyes, giggling and grinning as you take turns giving the other person tender, playful kisses on the nose.

He’d give compliments and praises to you on how you’re such a beautiful person, irreplaceable and his reason for existence, making you hold him extra tight after each and every word.

And you coo at him for how he was your ‘good boy’ and ‘pretty pup,’ adoring the way his face shined and gleamed bright, him fighting the urge to bury his face in your neck.

Yes, he was a handful. And he’d probably be crying an hour from now about how hard as a rock his cock is, whining that only you can relieve it. But at least he was yours to deal with.

And you’d be damned if you had it any other way.

𐂯 ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ 𐂯 ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ 𐂯 ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ 𐂯 ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ 𐂯 ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ 𐂯 ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

[buckyismysafehaven]

I’m inspired today 🤭

For the last few weeks you hadn’t been feeling very well. You’d been vomiting, you were nauseous and very, very tired. You’d brushed it off a couple of times thinking maybe it was a stomach bug. But one day when you woke up feeling like the whole room was spinning around, you decided to go to the doctor.

The doctor’s diagnosis was clear: “pregnancy”.

He gave you an appointment for the following week for an ultra sound. Despite not wanting to know the sex of the baby you were way too excited so you asked the doctor to tell you.

“It’s a healthy boy. Congratulations.”

You were so happy there was going to be a mini-Bucky in your arms soon, but what made you happier was the word “healthy”.

Once you came back from the doctor, you couldn’t wait for Bucky to hear the news.

You decided to give him a surprise, you put the ultra sound copy in an envelope and the envelope inside a medium blue box with a dark blue ribbon on it alongside a small letter and a silver pacifier.

When he arrived home, you led him to your shared room and you asked him to sit down as you had a surprise for him.

“What’s it? I don’t like surprises.”

“You are going to love this one.”

You gave him the box and told him to open it.

He did so and he started reading the letter.

“Hi, pretty James. It’s going to be three of us soon. I can’t wait for us to meet our bundle of happiness and see how his face lights up every time he sees you. We’ve talked about this moment for so long that I can’t believe it’s actually happening. My eyes tear up when I picture this little one, a mix of us, running around.

We both love you so much.

Y/N x Little Nugget”

It took him a couple of minutes to put himself together and realise what was happening. You were pregnant. Finally. The moment he opened the envelope and saw the ultra sound copy he started crying, tears of happiness of course.

“I’m... I’m going to be a dad!” He said joyfully rubbing your belly. “And you are going to be a mom!”

You nodded at him, with a big smile on your face. Trying to contain your tears.

He took the pacifier in his hands.

“I can’t wait for him to drop it on the floor.”

You both laughed.

“It’s happening, baby. You are going to be a wonderful father, James.”

“And you are going to be a wonderful mother, angel face.”

By the following week everybody close to you had found out about your bundle of joy in the making. And you were showered with hugs and belly rubs.

You were also gifted with a crib, some blue blankets, baby clothes and some toys.

You set everything up in the room, and although there still were another 6 months of pregnancy everything was almost ready for the little one.

When not on missions, Bucky would read books about pregnancy.

“Did you know that during the second trimester the baby starts sucking its thumb? And its skin starts to form? Maybe that’s why mini-Bucky has been so quiet lately, he’s sucking his thumb!.”

You couldn’t help but look at him in awe. He was very invested in your pregnancy, and most importantly: very happy.

Nighttime was the best moment of the day. Bucky and you would lay down in bed and he’d tell your future son about his day.

“He’s going to remember your voice, you know that? He’s going to know you are his daddy as soon as he comes out from my belly.”

Bucky kissed you.

“I can’t freaking wait.”

[cheemken]

You bamboozled me. I fr thought Iris killed the Shadow Triad in the beginning. But then they show up to protect Iris from Ghetsis, and end up killing the their old employer

Iris must be a GREAT actress if she’s able to keep her cover during League meetings. Telling lies about where she was and why she couldn’t help during Kyurems rampage. Giving speeches to the public, reassuring them that whatever Team Plasma is planning the Unova League will be there to protect the people and stop Ghetsis from continuing this war

I imagine that a small group of people will eventually start questioning why Champion Iris is never there when Team Plasma is terrorizing a city/town. And that isn’t good, can’t have people getting suspicious. So to make up for her disappearances she gets someone she trusts, maybe the Shadow Triad or one of the sages, to command Kyurem in battle. Where she will go and help the people living in the city/town, playing her role as Champion. Even commanding her Pokémon to hit Kyurem with (weak) attacks in an attempt to get it to retreat

Also I’m not exactly sure, but do the public and Unova League know that Iris is Kyurems trainer? Or is it different in this AU? Like Hilda and Hilbert are known as the Hero’s of Truth and Ideals, but people don’t know that Iris is the Hero of Fate?

Omf cjxmdn hahaha low-key proud of that now since it got you hahah

Anyways uvu

Oh yeah def tho, idk if she and the other Champions are already well acquainted or smth, cause again I imagine Iris being a lil older in this like at least in her early twenties, so at that point maybe she and the Champions are a bit close, and ofc Diantha taught her how to play her parts well

When the people were acting all suspicious why she wasn't around, she'd tell them she was at Champion summits. Ofc, maybe Plasma became smart enough to attack while she's not around, knowing that she and her friends could easily stop them. But it's the timing yknow, when Iris was so fucking sure Hilbert and Hilda aren't around, that's when she'd strike too, when they're at their lowest, or when they're far away from where she is that the moment they'd get to Plasma, they'd be gone. It'd always slip within the twin heroes' grasps.

But yeah what you said, Iris probs trusted the Shadow Triad in handling Kyurem while she tries to "attack" them, so her image won't be that ruined to the public even more, and ofc the Shadow Triad understands that, and were more than happy that Iris trusts them that much. And true to their words, to their pledge to her, never in their mind have the thought of betraying her ever came up. They know how much of a threat she is even without Kyurem, and even going against Kyurem she'd always find a way to get the Boundary Pokémon on her side again.

As for the Hero of Fate thing, no I wanna say that the public doesn't know about Iris being a Hero. In the eyes of the Unovan people, there has always been, and always will be, two heroes. The thought of a third one was laughable. There were only two brothers. Two dragons. Only Truths and Ideals. Kyurem was the absence of those qualities, he is the absence of truths, and the absence of ideals; he is simply a shadow of those brothers, of those dragons, an empty husk, only known as a piece of Zekrom and Reshiram, not its own Pokémon. Yet they fail to see how it's him who holds the fate of those dragons. The Splicers, if he could get someone to use the Splicers, he would become one with Zekrom or Reshiram. Or maybe even both, becoming the Original Dragon once more. And once they fuse, they would submit to his commands, letting himself regain control again.

He never had a Hero for him, there was no third brother, but times had change, he knows he can find a worthy candidate for himself too. So he waited within the Giant Chasm, knowing one day someone worthy will be able to tame him and to use his powers, and once that day arrives, then they shall be the Hero who embodies fate; the one who will be the judge of peoples' lives, their word shall be spoken onto the heavens, and it will be set in stone, sealing their fate.

And she arrived.

Determined crimson eyes, flaring such a way it reminded him of Zekrom. Speaking her truth, telling him what's within her heart, what it desires, it reminded him of Reshiram. She wishes to challenge him, to prove how she is the perfect trainer for him, for she knows how to tap into the potential of Dragon Pokémon, and that piqued his interest. He stood fully now, looking down onto the determined trainer before him, calling out her first Pokémon. There was a grin on her face, and it gave him this sense of thrill.

He finally found the Hero of Fate.

[racingmiku2018]

work was such a shitshow in the morning that it trailed into the afternoon and evening and now im just hit with this sinking dread of having to go and do it all again tomorrow

[kekewrites]

Tw. Insecure/bratty/tsundere reader, dark content, noncon, dubcon, obsession, sloppy blowjob, attempted breakup, manipulation, size kink, overstimulation, multiple creampies, cunnilingus, baby trapping, coercion, aftercare

***

Thinking about dating an angelic guy.

You always wonder why, out of all the pretty and influential girls chasing after him, he chose you. It doesn't help how of a unit he is. Your typical perfect guy, popular, rich, and body that's comparable to a Greek God... and his voice— how you love his gentle and warm voice, there's just something about it that hypnotize you.

He always compliments you, shower you with affection, and be an absolute sweetheart. It gets you pissy. You don't know why you're always in a foul mood around him, he's not even doing anything that could trigger you. He takes a breath and you're already fuming. Grumbling profanities that he would laugh at wholeheartedly, like you didn't curse his entire being.

You hate how perfect he is. Hate how much you adore him. Hate how much you love him, and inside your mind you always question if he genuinely loves you. Maybe he's just playing with you? Waiting for the day he'd humiliate you, telling how you're too idiotic to even believe someone like him could ever love you.

That's probably why you're always cautious around him, you don't believe him enough to love an average girl like you.

***

He can't believe he's dating the cutest in the world. Everytime you scowl, show that adorable pout, he just wants to squish your cheeks together and kiss you plenty. Like a little kitty hissing when you sneer curses at him.

It's adorable really.

You'd say you didn't want to go to the movies he chose. Yet, you arrived earlier than expected, wearing a hint of makeup in that cute dress of yours. Makes him want to crush you. You put in the effort, took the time, even gave him the watch he'd been talking about—his favorite.

He really loves you. Really really loves you but why are you acting like he doesn't? He's confused. Hasn't he done enough to show you, tell how much he adores you? It makes him sad. Don't you know how much he's holding back? There's only so much he could take, you know. He could just take you everytime you run that cute foul mouth of you, shove his cock to make you shut up. But he's so patient with you because he loves you.

So don't push him too much, ok? Or else you might not like it when he finally show you his desire.

***

"You're late," you grumble, sending him a glare. Your arms are crossed, and your foot taps impatiently on the ground.

He chuckles, a soft, knowing smile playing on his lips. "I arrived just on time, sweetie," he says, stepping closer. "You're just too excited for our date, no?" His voice is teasing, but his eyes are warm, sparkling with affection.

You huff in response, but you can feel the corners of your mouth betraying you, tugging into a smile. He notices and takes your hand, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles.

"You're just so cute, you know? I really wanna crush— ow!" He hiss slightly as you swat his arm. He pouts a little, "You're strong, you're gonna leave a bruise."

You roll your eyes— as if that's gonna happen. Huffing you tug on his hand, "Let's go. I'm starving."

He smiles, looking at your back, "Ok, sweetie~."

Ah, you really are so cute.

He can't wait to fuck you.

***

"Why're you not eating, sweetie? Is the food not to your liking?"

Your appetite was gone the moment that waitress flirted with him, leaving you empty and bitter. This always happen. You're sick of it, sick of being jealous and feeling shitty for not looking like his girlfriend. Are you really worthless by his side? Do people not see you as his companion?

"Sweetie?"

You didn't want to lash out on him so you remained silent. Too bitter to talk. Even the food turned bitter, leaving you more upset.

He's such an idiot. But you're more of an idiot for being triggered by that stupid waitress, too much of a wuss to tell her he's taken, that he's yours. You're the idiot.

"I don't wanna eat anymore," you bitterly muttered, your face covered by the shadows of your hair, hiding that frown you wore he always seems to love on you.

He gets a sick twisted feeling in his guts, watching how jealous you get whenever some worthless wench tries to get his attention. It satisfies his urge, his sick thoughts hidden by his angelic face. You really love him, don't you? His lips curving into a sweet smile, eyes twinkling with desires. If only you know how much he gets off with you being jealous, you'd never doubted your pretty little self.

So… why are you saying such stupid things?

“Let’s break up.”

“Hm?”

“I said…” You take a breath, steadying your voice. “Let’s break up.”

For a moment, his smile wavers. Just a fraction. His right eye twitches ever so slightly, a crack in the carefully crafted mask he wears. But then, like a master of illusions, he recovers, his sweet facade sliding back into place, though something darker lingers beneath the surface.

“Now, now,” he says, his voice dripping with a saccharine softness that makes the hairs on your neck stand on end. “What’s the matter?” His tone is gentle, almost soothing, but there’s a sharp edge to it—a venomous undercurrent that cuts through the air.

You don’t answer immediately, your chest tightening under his unblinking stare. It’s as if he’s waiting, watching every little twitch of your expression, trying to peel you apart without lifting a finger.

“I just think…” you start, your voice faltering as his head tilts slightly, his smile remaining unnervingly intact. “I-I think we’re not… good for each other anymore.”

His smile widens, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Instead, his gaze sharpens, a predator sizing up its prey. He takes a step closer, the air between you growing heavy. “Not good for each other?” he repeats, feigning confusion. “Sweetheart, where’s this nonsense coming from? Didn’t we promise forever?”

The sweetness in his tone sends a chill down your spine, but you hold your ground. “Forever shouldn’t feel like this,” you say, trying to steady your trembling hands.

It shouldn't make you feel bad about yourself, shouldn't make you anxious, shouldn't make feel... pressured.

For a moment, he says nothing, his eyes boring into yours. Then, his chuckle breaks the tension, soft and low. “Ah, I see,” he murmurs, leaning in just enough for you to feel the weight of his presence. “You’re upset. That’s all. We’ll talk this through, won’t we?”

But his words aren’t a question—they’re a command, wrapped in the guise of concern. And as his smile lingers, you realize leaving might not be as simple as you hoped.

***

Why is this happening?

You thought he would accept and move on.

"Mmm, that's it sweetie. Take it deeper." He coaxes, his grip on your hair tightening. He starts to push forward, forcing more of his thick length past your stretched lips.

So why?

Your eyes squeeze shut tighter as he pushes in deeper, your throat convulsing around his invading cock. He throws his head back with a guttural moan.

"That's a good girl. Mhm, your throat feels so good wrapped around my dick." He grunts, starting to set a steady pace. Fucking into your mouth, using your face like a cock sleeve.

It was gross. He never did that to you.

Lewd, wet sounds fill the office as he picks up speed, his heavy balls slapping against your chin with each rough thrust. Drool escapes the seal of your lips, dripping down your chin and onto your messed up clothes.

He looks down, taking in the debauched sight of you on your knees, choking on his cock. His dick is spit-shined and glistening, streaked with their drool. Shit. The sight makes him thrust harder, faster, chasing his pleasure.

"Look at me," He demands breathlessly, wanting to see the tears and desperation in their eyes as he uses their mouth ruthlessly. He's close, so fucking close already from the intense, vice-like grip of your inexperienced throat. He grunts and curses, slamming forward one last time before pulling out abruptly.

Thick ropes of cum paint your face and hair, marking you as his. Some of it even lands in your eyes, making them sting and water.

"You're so pretty... You look so pretty covered in my cum," he whispers lovingly, smearing the head of his cock across your messy face, pushing the hot seed into their skin like makeup. "The prettiest girl in the world."

You were supposed to break up with him...

How did it escalated to this?

***

It's not like he's losing a lot... you aren't that special. So why is he acting this way? There are a lot of better options for him, prettier, smarter, and richer girls. Someone who can actually match him, who doesn't embarrass him, worthier to stand beside him.

Why is he fucking you like his life depends on it?

Your eyes already hazy and unfocused, breathing hard as you couldn't count how many times you've already come.

One of his hands snakes up your trembling body, finding a soft breast. He squeezes the supple mound roughly, fingers sinking into the pliant flesh as he kneads and gropes. He finds a pert nipple and pinches it cruelly between his thumb and forefinger, rolling and tugging until it stands stiff and aching in the cool air of the room.

"Hm? Are you already tired? We're just starting," he coo, his hips slamming forward with renewed vigor. He leans down, his mouth finding your neck, sharp teeth sinking into the tender skin. He bites and sucks, determined to leave his mark on you, to claim you as his own. His. He can feel his orgasm building, his heavy balls tightening as he ruts into your abused cunt. The wet, obscene sounds of your coupling fill the room, punctuated by the creaking of the bed and your cries. He's close, so fucking close to filling your cunt with his seed.

"Gonna... hngh... fill this pussy..." He grunts between clenched teeth, slamming home one last time. His cock throbs and pulses as he starts to come, thick ropes of hot cum painting your inner walls. He grinds against them, making sure they take every last drop as he marks your womb with his essence.

Finally, with a last shuddering groan, he collapses on top of you, his softening cock still buried deep inside your tender, cream-filled pussy. He pants harshly against the shell of their ear, his hands still groping and fondling your sensitive body.

"Y-You're an idiot..." You sniffle, "Why me? There's a lot of—."

He cuts you off, "You know, I would never cheat on you, right?" He whispers tenderly, kissing your ears as if assuring. "No matter who comes to me, I would never pay attention to them. Never. You're the only one I want." His other hand comes up to grip your chin, forcing you to meet his intense, burning gaze.

It was the first time you ever heard his voice to be so... vulnerable.

"The only girl I want... So..." You can hear his voice shake, "Don't break up with me, ok?"

Your eyes glaze with tears, your heart tugging at his words. No, it wasn't supposed to end up like this. You made up your mind a few weeks ago, always nagging at the back of your mind. Ending your relationship would be the best for you two—.

He kisses you then, any doubts in your mind disappearing as his mouth claiming theirs in a brutal, dominating kiss. His tongue pushes past your lips, plundering the warm cavern as he grinds his hips forward, rubbing his throbbing erection against your thigh.

Ah, you don't care anymore.

"Don't think anymore, ok? Just let me do it for you."

He starts to rub the broad head of his cock along your slit, coating himself in your combined juices. "Tell you what, sweetheart. I'll be gentle like the usual... for now." He promises darkly, his voice rough with restrained lust. "I'll make this first part nice and slow, nice and easy for you."

"H-Huh?"

With that, he starts to push forward, the thick length of his cock slowly sinking into your tight, clutching heat. He has to fight the urge to slam forward, to bury himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. But he resists, forcing himself to go slowly, to savor the exquisite feeling of your walls stretching around him.

"Ah, you're still so tight." He grits out through clenched teeth, his fingers flexing against your hips as he fights for control. "Such a perfect cunt."

"Too soon! I'm still... s-sensitive!" You cried out but he starts to move then, his hips rocking in a slow, sensual rhythm as he fucks into you with deep, deliberate strokes. Each thrust pushes him a little deeper, a little harder, until he's finally buried to the hilt inside you. He pauses for a moment, letting you feel the heavy weight of him, the way he's stretching you impossibly full.

"Hehe, sorry can't help it. Does that feel gentle enough for you, sweetie?" He asks, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, yet his angelic face covers it. "Or do you need me to be even more... careful?" He punctuates the word with a sharp thrust of his hips, grinding his pelvis against your clit.

Your brain short circuit by the overstimulation, all you could think about was him, and his big cock, "A-Ah, you— ish... so good~!"

He snarls in feral pleasure as he feels your pussy clench and ripple around his pistoning cock. The way you are moaning and crying out, begging him not to stop... it's the headiest fucking thing he's ever heard. It makes him want to ruin you, to fuck you so hard and so deep that you'll never forget the feeling of his cock splitting you open.

You came in surprise, your eyes rolling in the back of your head, chest heaving, "C-Can't too much..!"

"You can do it," He growls, his voice a dark, distorted rumble. He can feel his own release building, his balls drawing up tight as he fucks into you with wild abandon, "A-ah~ clench this greedy cunt around my dick, dollface. Milk it for all it's worth.

You never saw this side of him before, a more vulgar side to him. Spouting dirty words that's the opposite of his facade. Maybe, you didn't know your boyfriend that well? He was always gentleman to you in bed, always going with your pace and being mindful about his words but now...

"N-No~ I really ah! Can't!" You shake your head frantically, having enough of the sensitivity.

"Yes, you can! You will, sweetie~!"

He buries his face in the crook of her neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin as he chases his pleasure. He wants to mark you, to leave his claim all over your body for everyone to see. He wants the whole world to know that you belong to him, that you're his to fuck and fill and love as he sees fit. The thought of another man putting his hand on you makes him mad, you're only his and he isn't afraid to take that way for you to be officially his.

"I'm gonna cum, sweetie." He grits out, his hips slamming forward with sharp, brutal thrusts. "I'm gonna pump this tight little pussy full of my seed, gonna breed this fucking cunt until it's dripping with my cum."

Breed?

He reaches down, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing mercilessly at the sensitive bundle of nerves. "I want to feel you cum on my cock, sweetheart. I want to feel you shake and quake as I fill you with my my child."

Wait...!

His other hand slides up, wrapping around your throat and squeezing lightly. It's enough to make you gasp for air, pulse jumping wildly beneath his touch. It's enough to make you even tighter, body instinctively clenching down around him as he fucks into you with short, vicious thrusts.

Too much!

"Now, sweetie~ cum. Now." He commands, his voice a dark and sinful. And with a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself balls deep inside her and starts to cum. His cock jerks and pulses as he paints your insides with thick ropes of his hot seed, filling you up just like he promised.

So full...

You gasp out, your skin flushed and damp with sweat. The room spins around you, his weight pressing you down into the mattress as you struggle to catch your breath. Body aches all over, especially between your legs. The feeling of his cum painting your insides is strange, unsettling.

Your vision having black spots, your consciousness fading as you hear him murmur promises to you.

"I'll take responsibility whether we have a child or not, we'll get married and have a cute child."

You feel a warm kiss on your forehead.

"I love you. I love you more than anyone else, I only love you."

[lovegasmic]

𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗬▶ WELCOME HOME, CALEB 𝗩𝗛𝗦

‘ zayne x fem!reader x caleb ’ love and deepspace

⌞ PG-18 ⌝ — based off Caleb’s first scenes but with the current reunion◞ double penetration◞ thigh fucking◞ cunilingus◞ fingering ◞ squirting ◞ kitchen sex ◞ blowjobs ◞ creampie◞ tips touching◞ three way kisses◞ there is a little tension between Caleb and Zayne◞ and Caleb is a tease / sarcastic but not mean◞ w plot !

“let’s invite Zayne over for dinner”

you still remember that day clearly, when things were perfect, having shared a yummy lunch with Caleb and Grandma before everything went crashing down.

who could have through that lingering promise would have turned into a “let’s invite Caleb for dinner” instead.

surprised was not even the correct word to express how you felt upon reuniting with Caleb once again, shock, confusion, happiness, all emotions previously bottled up now bursting as you ran to embrace the man you had missed deeply.

“Zayne will be running a little late” you explain to Caleb who is currently standing next to you while helping chop a few vegetables, giving some extra attention to the carrots, “there was an emergency at the hospital”

Caleb couldn’t care less, to be honest, hiding the fact that he would very much rather spend the whole day with you alone, but alas, some time before the black haired man arrived was also welcomed.

“oh, really?” he hums, grabbing yet another carrot to chop, nonchalantly with a slight hint of a smile on his face, “it’s a pity, he works too much, doesn’t he? he’s probably getting wrinkly already” his words are so filled with amusement, like an inner joke he is not willing to share.

“don’t tease him” you scold him gently, “but yes, Zayne is often overworked, he never listens when I ask him to take breaks”

“he is a girls repellent, they don’t like workaholics” Caleb starts, almost as if he was testing the waters while you turned to wash a few used utensils so couldn’t see his eyes following you to gauge your reaction, “girls like attentive guys…, guys who can cook…, don’t you think” was he… praising himself?

“well—” Caleb scoffs a little loud, a sound you would have heard if it weren’t because the door suddenly was pushed open and Zayne walked in, with a bag in his hand and sliding his glasses into the shirt pocket with the other.

“oh, Caleb, it’s good to see you again” the doctor’s tone is as flat as you expected, yet he still approaches to greet the other man whose only thoughts are why did Zayne had the code to your apartment, why is Zayne so comfortable in your house, why is Zayne placing his hand on your waist while walking past you.

Caleb is not liking this at all.

“yeah” the smile gets back in place with a hint of annoyance that lasts a second, “good to see you too, Zayne”

the latter’s attention shifting to you almost immediately, now there is a soft smile while leaning next to you to check what’s in the oven, then the bag he was carrying is left on the counter, “i got some—”

“macaroons” Caleb chimes in with that smirk that borderlines on bickering, “i’m not surprised”

Zayne’s eyes lay on the other man, looking a tad bored even, then down on the counter with an almost imperceptible raise of a brow, “and you are still obsessed with carrots, i’m not surprised either”

“she loves them” Caleb motions to you while his eyes lock on Zayne’s

“i can’t—”

“she likes macaroons better”

“that’s you, actually—” you get to whisper under your breath, the atmosphere thick with unexpected tension.

“we grew up together” Caleb retorts, “i know her better”

“i also grew up with her”

“but not as long as me”

“are you sure about that?”

“stop!” you finally raise your voice and both of them turn to look at you with expressions softening like puppies who just got scolded, “why are you fighting? this was supposed to be a nice dinner” your voice lowers with a sigh as you lean over the counter with both hands on the surface.

Zayne is the first to speak, resting a hand on your lower back, “i’m sorry”

and Caleb joins, saying your name very gently while bringing a hand to cup your nape, “i’m sorry too, I didn’t mean to ruin things” then he plants a kiss on the top of your head, to which Zayne replicated with a kiss on your shoulder, their affection making you shiver slightly.

but you don’t reply yet, having a hint of a pout on your mouth that both men find absolutely adorable, starting to leave more kisses across your skin, Zayne trailing up your neck to your ear while Caleb went down to kiss your neck and collarbones, unable to stop the soft whines that left your lips. and they continue, taking the cute little sounds you make as encouragement, “so cute” Caleb murmurs, with a hand coming to squeeze your waist and rub under your shirt with a thumb.

Zayne on the other hand, trails his hand up and down your back, settling on top of your butt and gently tugging you closer to the both of them.

“I didn't mean to upset you” is Zayne who speaks first, lowering his head to take a better look into your face and slowly pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

which Caleb takes as a challenge, mimicking the other man to stare into your eyes with a smile, “come on, pipsqueak, forgive me” then presses a kiss on your lips, a chaste one that leaves you slightly surprised, unable to properly understand what just happened before Zayne repeats the act, the frown on his face almost imperceptible because of the way they’re constantly kissing you without giving you a moment to think.

until both crash and you are left utterly speechless when they both kiss you, with hands on your hips and waist, tongues sticking out to meet the other two in what you can just catalogue as the lewdest kiss you’ve ever gotten, unsure of whether of it’s Zayne or Caleb whose hands grope your ass, whose the one sliding a hand under your shirt until it comes to lay under your boob and you moan against their eager mouths.

the kiss does not stop, it’s so messy, with saliva, tongues and teeth, muffled groans of delight solely from kissing your soft lips.

“you taste delicious” Caleb parts with a pant, as if he has just ran a marathon and would do it again, all while Zayne takes the opportunity to kiss you himself, still without much words, yet cupping the back of your neck to tilt your head back and devour your mouth, sloppily and uncharacteristically messy for a doctor of his level.

kisses get peppered on your neck next, lower and lower while your other best friend starts to slowly open your blouse buttons, his tongue leaving a burning trail that soon cools against the air from where his saliva touches the skin of your chest, down the valley of your tits. his hands being too skilled and Zayne’s kiss leaving you breathless that your lust filled brain barely registers the other man’s hands undoing your bra, too impatient to even take it off so he just pushes the soft fabric up and attaches his lips to a nipple, sucking eagerly and barely nibbling on the sensitive flesh, sending waves of slick down your already drenched panties.

“ah, fuck—” you moan against Zayne’s mouth, who eagerly receives the sound with a low growl of his own, slow and very gently sliding the hand —you now realize was Zayne’s all along— down the curve of your ass and under the skirt, barely teasing the crotch of your panties with a single finger that dips in between your folds through the flimsy fabric.

moans only grow, getting a little choked with how dizzy both of them made you feel.

Caleb’s lips are so eager, so soft and warm, leaving each nipple utterly sensitive and coated in saliva as he moaned against your skin, unconsciously helping Zayne keep your skirt up around your waist as he slowly knelt in between your legs, nose bumping against Zayne’s fingers and your lower lips that were so visible through the soaked panties, “fuck, love… you smell divine” his voice so deep and makes your knees buck, and forces Zayne to finally release your mouth with a gasp as his green eyes flickered to the sight of Caleb between your legs, eagerly tugging down on your panties until the fell on the cold ground with a soft ‘splat’ due to how wet they were.

you whimper at the coldness, which gets quickly replaced by Caleb’s lips attaching to your clitoris, sucking the engorged nub, “C-Caleb! a-ah yes” your cries are heavenly for both men, who can feel their cocks getting even harder at your sounds, smell, and they way your cute body shook.

Zayne is quick to help, latching his lips to your earlobe and nibbling, making sure to wrap an arm around your waist to keep your body upright as his finger found your empty and fluttering hole, “so wet, so pretty” his voice is deep, caressing your ear like his fingertips does with your hole before dipping inside, “and so tight…”

“Zayne!” you mewl, now, holding onto Caleb’s hair with a hand and Zayne’s wrist with the other, a few seconds away from letting out a sob bubble out your throat.

“good?” and you nod, gasping at each delicious thrust and curling motion of the fingers inside your gushing cunt that squelched vulgarly, alongside the sounds of the man between your legs, slurping and sucking on your clit and folds as his life depends on it, occasionally brushing against the other man’s fingers which makes him groan.

there is slick dribbling down your legs, which Caleb eagerly laps up with a low, murmured, “fucking delicious” before his lips are on you again, there’s a cacophony of sounds, to which the sound of belts soon join and a muffled growl against your folds, before you can hear a soft ‘shlick’, fluttering your eyes open to be greeted with the sigh of Caleb between your legs and his arm moving desperately between his own.

“can I…” Zayne breaks your line of thought, pressing a kiss on your nape and the tip of his now bare and drenched cock rubs against the back of your thigh, immediately understanding what he was asking for and you nod.

Caleb stands finally, with lips coated in slick, aggressively fisting his own fat and veiny cock that already leaks precum before he is kissing you now, sharing the taste of your juices and a hand tight on the hair in the back of your head to keep your head still.

“you taste so good” Caleb mumbles with what you can just explain as a drunk hazed smirk, and you’re no far from it, with half lidded eyes, moaning wantonly while a little line of saliva dribbles down your cheek at Zayne’s two fingers abusing your cunt, managing to hit the delicious spongy spot that had your hole gushing waves after waves of slick all over his hand and a bit on the floor.

your hands land on Caleb’s shoulders, tugging for another kiss at the same time Zayne’s thick cock slides between your legs, keeping them squished for a better grip.

“stay like that” he murmurs so low and dark that you, once again, get impossibly wetter, soaking his cock that’s perfectly nestled between your folds and bumping on your clit with each thrust.

it really is flattering how both of them get whipped by you so easily, with Zayne moving faster and faster until your body gets also rocked back and forth, and his cockhead brushes against Caleb’s in front of you, making them both moan and you whine at the sound, throwing your hips back to get a little more friction, “m-more, please, I need to cum” you almost beg, and a hand lands on your clit, offering to rub you through an orgasm but you refuse, “no, i— ah!”

Caleb cups your face with a hand, a little tighter than necessary but his dark and blown pupils stare at you, “what do you need?”

Zayne stops too, rubbing on your lower abdomen so sweetly, “your cock” you murmur and precum dribbles down your thigh.

“whose?”

“both…” you barely murmur, letting another moan leave with how tight Zayne’s hands get on your hips.

“are you sure?”

“yeah… maybe… one at first?”

and they both agree, now Caleb sitting atop the kitchen counter, legs spread and your eager and warm mouth wrapped around his long cock that fills every inch of your mouth, veins pulsing in a warning of an imminent orgasm that he forces to stay down until he has a taste of that sweet cunt too.

“oh, darling, oh fuck” you never could have expected for Zayne to be so vocal, moaning against your neck while he basically humps your pussy with tiny thrusts that keep him deep, but they are so aggressive, so needy that you get pushed further against Caleb’s cock lodged down your throat, and a few tears fill your eyes at the stretch.

“ah, yeah, shit…” is the latter who moans now, grabbing a fistful of hair and keeping your mouth still, drooling all over his pelvis, “i need to fuck your cunt now, Zayne move over”

there is a little grumble from Zayne but he obeys, pulling you back against his chest that is now just covered by a shirt, you gasp and pant at the amounts of air that fill your lungs, allowing for Caleb to stand up in front of you, he was completely naked unlike Zayne and you who just had a skirt and socks on right now.

they tilt your head at the same time, lips crashing like minutes ago, making you so dizzy that you can barely register how they both lift you up, having you squished in the middle, thighs spread wide and swinging over their big arms.

“c-careful” you murmur through the mess of tongues upon feeling another cock poke on your clitoris, teasing the slick soaked skin and down your full and overly stretched hole that pulses around Zayne.

“i’ll be gentle” Caleb smirks, prodding against your abused pussy and slowly but steadily getting inside, the three moan simultaneously, the stretch too wide but still as inhumanly good, the feeling of their cocks rubbing together was sending shivers down their spines but none of the men was willing to say it out loud, barely nibbling on their bottom lip to keep the sounds down.

“so… tight” Zayne murmurs with open mouthed pants against your nape.

“you feel… ah… so amazing… what a heavenly pussy” Caleb comments next, keeping your thighs wide so his balls finally press flush against Zayne’s and your needy cunt.

“y-eah…! s’ full” your words are slurred, eyes crossing already and barely having time to think before they are moving and tossing you around, too pussy drunk to stop as they use you like a rag doll, up and down, sometimes in circles that has your toes curling and chest glistening with sweat and saliva that leaves your mouth wide open, almost dumb.

they groan unabashedly, muttering praises to your gorgeous cunt for sucking on their cocks so good, like a damn fuckin’ vice, refusing to let them go even if your brain shuts down, “s’ good, s’ fuckin’ good, feel funny…”

they have never seen a sight so pretty, your eyes crossed and filled with tears, tits jiggling and nipples hard in blissful pleasure.

there are a few jets of liquid gushing from your pussy, too stupid to even realize you’ve been cumming on their cocks already, they’re tiny but makes both of them groan when louder, hips snapping brutal and vulgarly against your over sensitive and used pussy, that keeps cumming nonstop.

Zayne has a hand on your pelvis, barely above your pussy, pushing in the skin to keep you flush and somehow feeling the movements of your insides being fucked by their fat cocks, making you squeeze them tighter.

“i’m going to cum” Caleb mutters with a hoarse tone, his forehead is covered in sweat and his head low, jaw slacked to let out those pleasure sounds, “can’t last longer, this pussy is too good”

Zayne does not want to admit how embarrassingly close he is as well, gritting his teeth while his hips snap a bit harder, making his flesh slap against your ass that’s sore by this point.

two, three more minutes and they fill you to the brim, tips pushing into that spot that is just so deep and you come crashing with a scream, soaking their lengths and balls with squirt while they both fill your womb with semen, so thick and so much you feel like throwing up.

no one speaks for what feels like hours, trembling in the middle of the kitchen floor, until Caleb speaks, “i hope… we can do this dinner again” his voice is low against your neck, and soon the smell of burnt food fills the air.

i’ve been wanting to write for them since so long so if its ooc I apologize ajsgshs

[rosiereveries]

Regency!John Price who inherited his brothers duke title, because his brother died without an heir. John was the second oldest son, and he never thought about being the successor to the title, so he chose a military career.

He was a captain who fought wars and won them, not some lord who fancied balls and dressed in fancy clothing. But now he doesn’t have a choice. John comes back home after he has been badly injured in the battle, he was shot in his leg, and he had to use a wheelchair for quite some time.

When he comes home, to the new house and staff who pities him, he doesn’t feel like a man he once was. At the first ball he must attend he can see everyone eyes on him as he stumbles with his cane. He absolutely hates it. So, he makes a plane, he has to quickly marry some girl, make an heir and go live to the countryside where everyone will leave him alone.

You were on the other hand the youngest daughter of noble family. You weren’t rich, but your sisters and brothers married well, so you could keep good family reputation. Now it was your turn to marry, and as you were introduced to the society you quickly came to the realization, that you will probably end as a wife of some old man, who could be your grandfather.

So, when your cousin Johnny mentions, that his loyal friend and mentor John Price is looking for a wife you are interested. He tells you that John is a duke now and that he wants to get married as soon as possible. From Johnnys stories you know that John is a good man, who will hopefully respect you and treat you well.

You don’t get to meet your husband till the day of the wedding. The whole engagement is short and feels very official. He writes you a letter with things that you should know about your new home and your mother and sisters help you prepare for the married life.

When you finally see your future husband standing in the church, you’re quite surprised. He is very handsome, older than you, probably in his late 30s, but you’re sure that if he waited a little, he could find a better wife that you will be. John on the other hand is smitten by you, he also doesn’t understand why you would choose to marry him.

After the ceremony you immediately leave the town. He is very quiet the whole ride to his mansion and even thought you have many questions you stay quiet too. You arrive late in the night, exhausted from the long travel, but the only thing that concerns you is the wedding night. You heard a lot of horrible stories told by maids about their first nights with their husbands. The only thing that John does is that he shows you your room, tells you which butler to call if you have any troubles and he is gone. You’re left in the huge mansion alone and confused.

The breakfast takes place in the dining room. You sit at the table so far from John that you would have to shout to get his attention. He ignores you most of the time. At first you don’t mind it, you finally have some sort of freedom, you explore the land, the house and you find a huge library with many books you want to read.

But after some time, you start to crave his attention. The maids don’t want to be your friends, they think that it is highly inappropriate, you as a couple don’t attend any balls and there is no noble lady in the near distance you could visit and be friends with.

So, you start to write a diary, you write about how you feel and how would you like your husband to actually acknowledge you. Sometimes you also mention that you find him very attractive and the romance novels that you found in the library don’t help your imagination.

One time you forget your diary in the library and John accidentally picks it up. He thinks its some book that he hasn’t read yet. When he realizes that it is your handwriting, he knows that he should put it down, it is not right to invade your privacy. But then he sees his name there and he must know what you write about him.

He reads the whole paragraphs about how your meetings in the dinning room leaves you all flustered and how you crave his attention. He didn’t think that a young girl like you could find him attractive, and he wanted to be a good husband and leave you as much freedom as you could want. He didn’t want to pressure you into any kind of intimate relationship even though he was pressured by the rest of his family to have an heir. John leaves your diary where he found it, without any evidence that he read it.

The next morning, he invites you to eat breakfast with him in the garden. It is far more intimate, and you finally have a conversation with him. He asks you questions about your hobbies, your family and if you like it here.

It finally feels like he is courting you and you leave every encounter with him with rosy cheeks and butterflies in your stomach. He invites you on walks where he holds your hand as you tell him about your day or about the new book you just left. You spend the whole days together learning about each other.  

John tells you stories about the war, the battles he fought. His leg heals up perfectly and now, that he is healthy again, he takes you with him when he goes riding. When you ask him if he likes the hight society he tells you the truth. He tells you how much he despises the formal event and the balls and suddenly it all makes sense to you.

You finally understand why he wanted to marry so quickly and why you live alone in the middle of nowhere. You tell him that you loved the dancing and the beautiful gown you could wear at balls but now you don’t mind the quiet life. Now you have him and that is all that matters.  

One evening he makes a ball just for you. He invites a musician to play, he buys you an expensive gown and you pretend that you are at some formal event. It’s just the two of you dancing, laughing and drinking expensive champaign he bought for the ball. You dance the whole night and after he walks you to your bedroom he kisses you. It is a soft kiss, just your lips barely touching, but it starts a fire in you, and you want more.

When John realizes that you’re not pulling away he deepens the kiss. He knows that you have no experiences, and he wants to show you that he will treat you well. He spends the night with you, showing you in many ways how much he loves you.

And when you finally fall asleep, he thinks how lucky he is to find a wife like you. When you wake up and you see your husband sleeping in your bad you are very grateful that you accidentally left your diary in the library open on the page that mentioned how hot he was. Such a shame you didn’t come up with the plan a little earlier.

Masterlist You can support my work here : ko-fi

[cursingtoji]

cw: office au, nanami x loser!reader, semi public, oral, praising, slight emotional dependency? geto version gojo version toji version

nanami is so in love with the little office loser. he doesn’t give you much attention when you first arrive, just another presence in the office. then he starts to, unwillingly, listen to the conversation of others about giving the new clumsy girl a little rough time.

nanami watches from the corner of his eye as you quietly accepts your boss’ request to work overtime, he frowns as your boss implies under many corporate jargons that it’ll be unpaid and you should do it for the team.

“so naive” he murmurs watching you smile.

he can’t help but become infatuated with you when watching your skirt raising when you try to reach a tall shelf in the communal kitchen.

“here” he catches the coffee beans bag for you, without even needing to extend his arm much. nanami arrives so quietly that his voice scares you and you take a step back bumping into his strong body behind you and leaving a tiny squeal out, “sorry, are you okay?” he puts his hand on your shoulder.

“y-yes, thank you” he gives you space and you turn around looking at him over the thick frame of your glasses. it reminds nanami of those ads where a gorgeous woman has a pair of glasses down her nose and the caption says something like ‘single hotties in your area’. he then understands the appeal.

he keeps himself busy most days, so one day as soon as he sends an email he relaxes on his desk rolling his shoulders and looking around just in time to watch you knock a box of staples off your table. he raises from his seat to go help you but he gets a call at the same time so he sits back down to answer it while keeping his eyes on you.

you kneel picking the small items one by one. he likes seeing you on your knees. then you push your chair and crawl under the desk, trying to reach a few staples that went under the cabinet, at this point you’re with your head down on the carpeted floor and your ass up, nanami watches it with lusty eyes, just agreeing and humming to whatever the person on the phone is saying while wondering if you remember you are wearing a skirt. he watches in awe the black semi transparent pantyhose you have on stretch at the back of your thighs and the panties peeking out from underneath it.

when you get up your hair is messy and your face is flushed, you don’t think most of it, just glad to have caught every little staple. meanwhile nanami pulls his chair closer to his desk so you don’t see the volume in his pants when you pass by after basically flashing him.

nanami knows he wouldn’t last long with you around. one night he also stays overtime and you, being the extreme people pleaser you are, bring him some coffee and different sugar packets since you don’t know how he takes his coffee, but even with this simple self-assigned task you still manage to screw up and spill some on his pants immediately apologizing and getting on your knees to clean it with your sleeve. the friction on his upper thigh is making him grow hard but your teary eyes is what pushes him over the edge.

“nanami-san, don’t go home too late” the last person in the office says stepping on the elevator and waving goodbye.

“have a good night” the blond manages to say over the desk divider that hides your figure. finally knowing you two are alone kento throws his head back and allow his muscles to relax and enjoy the warmth of your mouth as you suck him.

“that’s right, sweetheart, good girl” he praises with a guiding hand on the back of your neck. it’s so good to have someone praising you in this place that your eyes water with joy. kento never meant to nut in the office but here he is, watching his cum run down your chin.

you take the small bin under his desk to spit the incriminating evidence of his pleasure so you don’t have to swallow it, “here, let’s make the clean crew think that’s matsuda’s” kento switches the bin with the one under his coworkers desk.

he hates to admit but over time he starts to look forward the times you feel overwhelmed and come to him for affection.

which leads him to the tiny copy room way too many times, making you hold the edge of your skirt and pulling your underwear and tights down to eat you out on top of the copy maker.

“keep quiet, darling” he warns knowing fully well how thin the walls are.

although you have done many unspoken things to him in this office, nanami still flusters you. every time he’s near, your thighs start to shake and your clit throbs untouched.

“come here, i’ll show you” he motions you over his desk when you ask for help with a task. you watch him perform it on the computer screen, “now you try it” he moves his chair a bit to give you space to use his keyboard and as you bend over slightly to replicate his steps he uses the opportunity to feel the skin of the back of your legs since today you don’t have any tights.

“go back, click here” he corrects still touching you, his hand comes higher, laying just under your ass cheeks, “why are you shaking? type the code there” he says like he doesn’t have a hand under your skirt.

“s-sorry” you say when making a mistake.

“it’s okay, start over” he commands, now playing with the hem of your underwear, it’s hard to do what he showed you when you can’t even guide the cursor right.

nanami pushes the material of your underwear into your folds making out the shape of your pussy through it.

“do it again with this file” he points sounding so collected it makes you even more nervous, he rubs your core so lightly, it’s almost like he’s doing it for his own pleasure, like he’s trying to make out the shape of your clit with the tips of his finger only.

“save it, and send to yourself” as you finish the task he starts to pull down your underwear looking around to make sure no one is watching when he helps you step out of the white lacy material, “well done” he bends to pick your panties, giving your leg a quick kiss — since that’s the most he can do in the office during the day—, and putting the soaked fabric in his pocket.

“thank you” you smile and slowly make your way back to your desk, though your boss calls you middle way about a mistake you made on a file and to come to his office, now you wonder how you’re supposed to make it through the day not only without underwear but also dripping wet.

[moonlightwritingf1]

Slow Burn | LN4

✿﹒❀ summary ━━━━━━━ Though they’d been dating for three months and kept things slow and respectful, tonight—alone in his apartment—all that patient restraint melts away as Y/N playfully presses herself against Lando, clothes still on. She takes the lead, grinding against him until they both come.

✿﹒❀ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

✿﹒❀ word count ━━━━━━━ 3.6k

✿﹒❀ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, dry humping

Based on this request.

Y/N had landed in Monaco late that afternoon, nerves and excitement tangled in her stomach like a knot she couldn’t untie. She still remembered the heat that hit her the second she stepped out of the taxi—the thick, golden warmth of the early Mediterranean evening pressing against her skin. Normally, the view of the calm marina outside Lando’s apartment would’ve made her pause, maybe even breathe it in. But not this time. She barely glanced at it. All she could think about was getting upstairs and seeing him. It had been two weeks. Just fourteen days, but each one had felt like a month. His schedule had been relentless, and she’d felt every single second of the distance between them.

They’d officially been a couple for three months, yet still hadn’t had sex, something Y/N had insisted on taking slow because she was inexperienced, and Lando had respected her wishes every step of the way. He never pushed, never crossed her boundaries, but that didn’t mean the tension wasn’t there, simmering just beneath the surface. He was every bit as horny and desperate for her as she sometimes felt in those lingering moments before sleep.

She let herself in with the spare key he’d given her weeks ago, the quiet beep of the electronic lock announcing her arrival. The blast of cool air hit her as she stepped inside, sending little shivers racing up her arms. “Lando?” she called out, but there was no answer. He was probably in the shower or in the bedroom. The living room was spotless—no hoodies draped over the couch, no controllers left on the floor, nothing out of place. It made her smile. He’d definitely tidied up for her. Just the thought of him doing that, of him caring about what she’d see when she walked in, sent a flutter through her chest and down to her stomach.

A minute later, she heard him behind her. She turned and let out a laugh of pure delight when she saw him: hair damp, wearing a loose T-shirt and gray joggers, that impossibly boyish grin stretching across his face. It was the grin that had charmed her from day one.

“Surprise,” he murmured, stepping up to her and sliding his arms around her waist. The moment his fingers touched her, every ounce of tension she’d carried on the flight evaporated. “I was trying to look cool and nonchalant for when you walked in,” he teased. “Figured you’d let yourself in, but I couldn’t wait to say hi.”

“You look ridiculous,” she joked softly, sliding her arms around his neck, rising up on tiptoe. “Ridiculously cute, I mean.”

He pressed his forehead to hers, letting out a playful groan. “God, I missed you, baby. I missed you so damn much.”

“I missed you too.”

Lando’s lips brushed hers in a kiss that started sweet but soon deepened as days of longing flared to the surface. She tasted faint traces of mint toothpaste—he must have just brushed his teeth—and the scent of his shower gel made her dizzy with need. She melted into him, allowing his hands to roam along her back in slow, reverent strokes.

When they finally broke apart, breathless, he took her suitcase into his bedroom. She couldn’t help following, watching the gentle definition of muscle shift beneath his T-shirt as he walked. It always amazed her that he was so physically strong yet tender with her in every movement.

They decided to spend a quiet evening at home, cooking a quick meal and then curling up to watch a movie. He insisted it should be a comedy, claiming he’d had enough adrenaline for the week and wanted to relax. She settled beside him on the couch, her thigh pressed close against his. The warmth of his body already had her feeling hyper aware of every small contact.

“Which one do you want?” he asked, flipping through streaming platforms with the remote.

“You choose,” she replied, tucking her legs beneath her. She couldn’t concentrate enough to care. All her senses kept drifting back to the fact that Lando was right here, so close, smelling of soap and aftershave, heartbeat strong under that T-shirt.

He picked some random rom-com that neither of them really paid attention to once it started. She tried to follow the plot, but his presence was too distracting. Every time he shifted, her nerves went spiked. A few times, she noticed him glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

After about half an hour, the movie blurred into the background, and her thoughts swirled with longing. She snuggled closer, resting her head on his shoulder, her hand drifting up to toy with a strand of his curls. Lando exhaled a shaky breath at her touch.

“You okay?” she whispered, biting her lip mischievously. She knew exactly what she was doing—turning on the playful energy that had teased him mercilessly before they got together.

He slid an arm around her, pulling her even closer. “Just happy to have you here,” he murmured, pressing a small kiss to her temple.

She wasn’t sure what came over her right then, but the two-week separation had done a number on her self-control. She found herself leaning in to press her lips to his throat, just beneath his jawline. He stilled, inhaling sharply. She grazed her teeth along his pulse point, gently, testing. He let out a soft moan.

“That’s not fair,” he breathed. “You know how sensitive I am there.”

“Mm, do I?” she teased, kissing the spot again. “I thought maybe you’d forgotten about me after all those days away.”

“You’re insane,” he chuckled, the laugh turning to a low growl when she nipped his skin. “God, I missed this.”

Their focus on the movie faded bit by bit, until it was nothing more than soft flickers of light playing across the room—background noise to the tension slowly crackling between them. Her hand slid up his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. God, he felt warm. Real. She bit the inside of her cheek, nerves twisting with want. How far was she ready to go tonight? She wasn’t sure she could handle going all the way—not yet—but she wanted more. More of his touch, more of that fire sparking in her skin every time he looked at her. More than they'd ever dared to cross before.

Without speaking, she swung a leg over his lap so she faced him. Her knees sank into the couch cushions on either side of his hips, and she saw how his pupils dilated with barely-concealed hunger. She set her hands on his shoulders.

“You’re torturing me,” he breathed, sliding his hands to her waist.

She smiled and leaned in to press her lips against his softly. “No,” she whispered against his mouth, “I’m rewarding you for waiting.”

He groaned low in his throat. “I’d wait forever for you, but holy hell, baby…”

Before he could finish, she captured his lips again, guiding him into a deep, hungry kiss that made her entire body tingle. Their tongues brushed, sending sparks through her veins, and she felt him squeeze her hips. His warm palms skimmed the small of her back, urging her closer. She shifted until she was firmly seated on his lap, feeling the subtle but undeniable presence of him beneath his joggers. He wasn’t fully hard yet, but she could still feel the weight and potential of him pressing against her, and it sent a thrill straight through her core.

She rocked her hips forward experimentally, testing the friction, and felt him twitch beneath her. His breath hitched, and his hands tightened on her waist, pulling her even closer. She did it again, this time with a little more intention, and the soft moan that escaped his lips was all the encouragement she needed.

“God, Y/N,” he murmured against her mouth, his voice already rough with desire. “What are you doing to me?”

She smirked, her lips brushing against his as she spoke. “Just seeing what happens,” she teased, her voice low and husky. “Does it feel good?”

He groaned, leaning his forehead against hers. “You’re killing me, baby. You know exactly how good it feels.”

She rocked her hips again, slower this time, dragging herself against him in a way that made his breath catch. She could feel him growing harder beneath her, and the power it gave her was intoxicating. His hands slid down to her thighs, gripping them as if he was trying to ground himself, but she could see the tension building in him, the way his jaw clenched and his eyes filled with need.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” she whispered, her lips trailing along his jaw. “So desperate for me. Do you want more?”

“Fuck, yes,” he growled, his hands moving to her hips, guiding her movements. “Don’t stop, please. Just like that.”

She obliged, rolling her hips in a steady rhythm, feeling the heat growing between them. His body responded to her every movement, his hardness pressing insistently against her. 

He murmured her name, voice thick with longing, as she kept rocking her hips against his now-hard length. He let out a ragged breath, burying a hand in her hair to keep her mouth on his. She kissed him deeper, tongues tangling, moaning softly when he matched her intensity.

When she pulled back for air, he looked up at her with wide, lust-blown eyes. “I—I don’t want you to feel like you have to—”

“Shh,” she whispered, pressing a finger to his lips. “Don’t worry. I want this. Not everything, but more…like this.”

He swallowed hard. “Oh, trust me, I want it too.”

She took the initiative, grinding down on him again, more firmly this time. His hands tightened on her waist, a broken moan escaping him.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he muttered, eyes half-lidded, a faint blush dusting his cheeks.

She felt a rush of warmth flood her own body. Seeing him like this—so undone—did things to her. It was a heady mixture of power and tenderness. For months, he’d been the one pursuing her, chasing her, practically begging for her attention. And now she was giving it, wholeheartedly, indulging in the way he reacted.

She set a slow, rhythmic motion, rolling her hips forward so that her core brushed over the prominent bulge in his pants again and again. It was still separated by layers of fabric, but even through the cotton, the friction was enough to send jolts of pleasure skittering across her nerves.

“Baby, your body…holy shit,” he breathed, letting his head fall back against the couch, his eyes fluttering shut. “You feel so good.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her chest to his, and kissed his jaw, nibbling gently. “Yeah? Tell me.”

A strangled sound left his throat. “Fuck, you’re driving me insane. I can feel how warm you are. I can’t believe you’re—God, I…I can’t think straight when you’re on my lap like this.”

She smirked and shifted again, taking a moment to relish his reaction. He visibly trembled, his breathing coming in shallow pants. She dipped her head to whisper near his ear. “I want you to feel good,” she said, words rolling from her tongue more boldly than she ever expected of herself. “I want you to love this, Lando.”

He swallowed. “I do love it. More than you know. I’m so fucking in love with you. I’ve wanted this for…God, feels like forever. I just—I don’t want to push you.”

“You’re not,” she assured him, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his neck. Her next sentence came out laced with mischief: “I’m doing exactly what I want to do.”

She braced her hands on his shoulders, using them as leverage to move her hips in deeper, firmer circles. The friction, oh God, it shot waves of pleasure up her spine. She was already beginning to feel a persistent ache between her thighs, an ache that made her want more contact, more pressure. He groaned, arching his back to press against her.

“Fuck,” he breathed, a desperate edge creeping into his tone. “You keep moving like that, I might lose it.”

She moved even more deliberately, letting out a small gasp at the delicious friction. “Yeah? You going to cum in your pants for me?” she teased, not entirely sure where this surge of confidence had come from, but thrilling in it.

His cheeks flamed, and he swallowed harshly. “I—damn it, you’re so…you have no idea. You could probably make me do anything right now.”

She giggled softly, though her own breath was unsteady. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely,” he rasped, his voice tight. “I’ve never—God, I’ve never felt this turned on from just…grinding. ”

She bit her lip, pressing herself against him again, feeling the hardness strained beneath his boxers and joggers. “I like that,” she murmured, “knowing I can make you feel like that.”

He looked up at her, eyes glazed with desire, but there was such fondness there. “I’m obsessed with you,” he admitted, voice quivering. “Completely, stupidly obsessed. I’d do anything for you. I—ughh—” He cut himself off with a moan as she slid forward again, pressing deliberately against the throbbing shape beneath her.

She could practically feel the tension tightening in his body, ready to snap. Her own pulse hammered in her ears. The peak of her own orgasm drew closer with each rub of fabric on flesh. The friction was maddening. She pressed her forehead to his, panting. “Fuck, Lando. This is…this is so hot.”

“You’re telling me,” he groaned, tilting his head to capture her lips. His kiss was messy, desperate. They breathed each other in, tongues meeting in urgent strokes. He tasted of need, raw and insistent.

She poured all her frustration from the past weeks into every shift of her hips, whining softly when a wave of pleasure nearly blinded her. Her body was on fire, nerve endings sparked with every move. She curled her fingers into his hair for stability, half-lost in the sensations.

He parted from her lips just long enough to gasp, “You’re so gorgeous…like this…on top of me. God, I love it. I—fuck, I’m close, baby.”

She was right on the edge too, her lower belly tight, throbbing with desperate heat that had her pussy clenching around nothing. Her hips rolled instinctively, chasing friction. She dragged her lips to his ear, breath hot, voice trembling with want. “I’m so fucking close,” she whispered, the words catching in her throat. A flush of shame and boldness twisted through her, but she said it anyway. “Keep talking to me.”

He groaned, eyes rolling back slightly. “You love hearing me lose my mind, huh?”

“Mmm, yes,” she purred. “I love hearing you so turned on for me.”

His breath hitched. “God, I am. I’m so fucking turned on. I love it when you take charge, I love feeling your body, feeling how wet you are, even through your clothes. Shit, I—I can’t believe we can do this with clothes on. My boxers are so fucking tight. I’m losing it.”

Hearing him say such dirty words in that breathless voice made her insides clench. The way he talked to her—so shameless, so fucking dirty—had her clenching around nothing, dripping through her panties, desperate for more. She slammed her hips down against him, grinding hard, chasing the brutal friction like her life depended on it. A loud, broken moan tore from her throat as her clit dragged just right against him. 

“Fuck—right there,” she gasped, breath hitching. The knot in her belly tightened to the point of pain, every muscle trembling, every nerve screaming for that final push. Her body was on fire, on the verge of losing it, ready to fall apart the second he said one more filthy thing. The tension was unbearable—white-hot and pulsing between her legs—so close she could taste it.

His fingers dug into her waist, the pressure of his grip sending a jolt of pleasure through her. “That’s it,” he gasped, his voice ragged and desperate. “Keep going, don’t stop, baby. You feel so fucking amazing. I…I can’t—” His words were cut off as she bent to kiss him fiercely, swallowing his groan. Their tongues tangled again, hot and wet, the kiss deepening with every passing second. She was no longer self-conscious about the needy, breathy noises she made. He drank them in as if they were the sweetest sound, his lips moving against hers with a hunger that matched her own.

Her thighs trembled, the muscles tight and aching as she ground herself against him. “I’m…there,” she whimpered, letting her eyes flutter closed. “Lando, oh my God—” Her voice broke, the pleasure building so intensely that she could barely form words.

“Me too,” he managed, his eyes shut tight, his expression ravaged by ecstasy. “I can’t hold it. You’re gonna make me cum just from this, you have no clue—ah!” His hips jerked upward uncontrollably, his cock straining against the fabric of his boxers, desperate for more friction.

She could feel him, hot and hard beneath her, the fabric of his joggers and boxers doing little to disguise the sheer size of him. Her pussy clenched at the thought, the wetness between her thighs growing with every movement. She ground down one last time, pressing her body firmly to his, and everything inside her erupted. A wave of pleasure slammed through her core, drawing a raw cry from her lips. She shook, her nails scratching lightly at his scalp as she clung to him, her orgasm ripping through her with an intensity she had never felt before.

Her pussy throbbed, the sensation almost overwhelming as her clit pulsed against him. She could feel every twitch and throb of her own body as the pleasure radiated outwards, leaving her breathless and trembling. He let out a strangled groan in response, burying his face in her neck as his entire body tensed. She felt him jerk beneath her, his hands clutching her waist with near-desperate force.

“Fuck,” he choked out, his voice trembling. “I’m—God—I’m cumming.”

Oh my God, she thought, her mind going hazy with pleasure. He was cumming, just from this, just from her grinding against him. The realization sent another wave of pleasure crashing through her, her pussy clenching around nothing as she came again, harder this time. She could feel the wetness soaking through her panties, the heat of her arousal mingling with the pressure of his body beneath her.

His cock twitched violently, and she could feel the dampness of his release soaking through the fabric of his boxers. It was so intimate, so raw, and it made her orgasm intensify, rolling through her in pulsing waves. She collapsed against his chest, her body spent and trembling as she rode out the last tremors of her climax. Her head swam with sensation, the world around her fading into a blur as she clung to him, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

He was panting raggedly, half-whimpering into the crook of her neck. His hands slid down to her thighs, his fingers gripping her tightly as if he was afraid she might disappear. “Fuck,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and shaky. “That was…Jesus, Y/N. I’ve never—” He broke off, shaking his head as if he couldn’t find the words.

She shifted slightly, her pussy still throbbing with the aftershocks of her orgasm. “I can’t believe that just happened,” she murmured, her voice soft and dazed. “You okay?” she asked softly.

He let out a laugh that was half-disbelieving, half-euphoric. “I’ve never been better. That was… I never came in my pants before. Ever. Not even as a horny teenager.”

She blushed at the admission, a surge of pride coursing through her. “Guess there’s a first time for everything.”

He pressed his forehead to hers, eyes shining with fondness. “You have no idea what you do to me. That was insane, in the best way. God, I love you.”

Her heart squeezed at the tenderness in his tone. “I love you, too.” She paused, chewing the inside of her cheek. “Was it weird that I, um, basically just used you to get off?”

He burst out laughing, a soft, joyous sound. “Weird? Fuck, no. I loved it. I love it when you take control. You can use me anytime you want, baby.”

She couldn’t help but giggle, pressing a kiss to his nose. “You say that now, but let’s not ruin all your boxers.”

He cracked up, shaking his head in amusement. “If it means you’re on top of me doing that again, I’d happily sacrifice every pair I own.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, shifting a bit on his lap, and felt the wet spot in the front of his joggers. “Sorry,” she said in a small voice. “You’re kind of a mess.”

He shrugged, eyes twinkling. “Worth it. Besides, I can change.”

She blushed, her cheeks heating at the intensity of his gaze.

He smirked, his hands moving to cup her face. “I’m fucking obsessed with you,” he admitted, his voice raw with emotion. “Every time I think I can’t want you more, you do something like this and prove me wrong.”

Her heart swelled at his words, and she leaned in to kiss him softly. “I’m obsessed with you too,” she whispered against his lips.

He groaned, pulling her closer. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of affection and desire.

She smiled, resting her forehead against his. “I’ll try not to kill you…yet,” she teased, her voice light and playful.

He laughed, the sound warm and genuine, and she felt a rush of affection for him. She knew they were both exhausted, spent from the intensity of what had just happened, but she couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment as she lay there in his arms. She was safe, she was loved, and she was exactly where she wanted to be.

[meowmewmews]

𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

minors don’t interact!!!!! 18+ only mature content under tab

synopsis : sol was obsessed with you the moment he laid eyes on you. you were his soulmate. he’d make sure no one else would touch you. he is the only one who can satisfy you. don’t you know that?

warnings : yandere, masturbation, obsessive behavior, stalking, somnophilia, cnc, dubcon, predatory behavior, smut, long word count, drugging, grinding, penetration, very rough sex, whiny submissive Sol at one point, and dominant Sol at another point.

author’s note : if you just want to read smut skip to sections with the 🍋 icon

long word count (11.7k+ words) i mean this might as well be split into different chapters but i don’t want to do that, also i decided to change him referring to you as pumpkin to something else sorry. gave him a tongue piercing because it sounded fun >:3 also i hate tumblr formatting so read on ao3 if you want . (gloomy_kitty)

also not 100% lore accurate

thanksss to my friend who proofread this for me!!

Sol was obsessed with you and had been since you first arrived at the school. The moment his scarlet eyes landed on you something strange was awakened within him. It felt like love at first sight—no it was love at first sight. Did you remember your first encounter? No, it was so long ago you probably hadn’t. He did though, he remembered how he felt so vividly. His heart pounded in his chest, butterflies fluttered in his stomach, and his breath hitched making it difficult to breath the moment he had seen you. That cute library assistant that worked on campus. He remembered how he had walked up to you at the counter, asking for a book for class. How you went out of your way to help him find it, not complaining a single time.

“You absolutely need this book for your class right?” You asked him, sighing in defeat after nearly an hour of searching the library.

“Yes, but if you can’t find it don’t w-“ Sol began, a bit irritated that this was required for his passing grade. But he’d just ordered it online and prayed it arrived on time before finals.

“No. I know we have it. Don’t worry I’ll find it. Just give me another day. Here write down your info and I’ll give you a call once I do.” You said determinedly, sliding a sticky note and pen towards him. “O..okay.” He mumbled and wrote down his information. He fully expected you to not ever find the book or just forget to call him to let him know of your findings. But the very next morning he received a call from an unknown number. “Hello?” He answered.

“Hi this ______ from the school’s library. I found the book you were looking for. It’s reserved at the front desk. If I’m not here just let whoever is at the counter know your name.” You said, he could tell that you were quite happy.

Sol’s eyes widened in shock, you really found it. He responded back with a simple thanks and during a free period he went to the library. There he saw you shelving away books, a content expression on your face. Awkwardly he walked up to you clearing his throat, when he realized you had an earbud in. You jumped in surprise, dropping the book you were holding. Then, at the same time you and Sol reached down to grab the book. Your hand on top of his for a brief second before you pulled away. It felt like a bolt of electricity shot through him. “Whoops! Oh hey you’re the guy from yesterday!” You laughed quietly as he handed you back the book. With that you checked him out reminding him that late fees would occur if he didn’t bring it back on time. You explained how you stayed over an hour after your shift to find what he was needing, then it turned out it was in the completely wrong genre! A historical book tucked away with comics, how egregious!

When Sol asked why you did that you shrugged, simply saying, “I don't want anyone to fail their first semester because I was too lazy to find a book for them. It’s my job after all.” You flashed him a smile. As you handed it over your fingers brushed over him for another brief moment. That same electric feeling coursed through his body. It was that moment something had awakened inside Sol. He was obsessed now.

That memory played in his head for over a year, he had found out your first name. One day when sitting in the library “studying” he overheard you telling a blonde girl about how excited you were for your art class in the fall then you explained what period it would be. Since there was only one introduction to art class that fall semester for the period before lunch, he was going to enroll in art class regardless so might as well make sure he was in yours. Everything had been planned out. Sol didn’t leave any detail forgotten.

He got to class early, sitting in the back of the classroom. He placed his backpack on the chair next to him and anyone he tried to sit next to he glared at, causing them to scurry away. Now he just needed to wait for you to arrive, you’d have to take the only available seat open next to him in a full class.

Like he planned There were no more seats left in class, you had arrived a bit late, only barely beating the bell. He watched as your eyes darted around the classroom looking for somewhere to sit, then a relief look washed over your cute face when you spotted the open seat next to him. Quickly you made your way over pulling out the chair, “Is this taken?” You asked him, already beginning to slip off your backpack.

“N..no.” Sol replied avoiding your gaze, he was focused on his sketchbook, his pencil tapping against the book as he tried to control his breathing. “Oh thank god.” You sighed in relief, finally taking your seat. Rummaging through your backpack you pulled out all the essentials you’d need for art class. It worked. His plan went perfectly!

Sol found it difficult to concentrate on the professor’s words as he discussed basic art fundamentals, he just kept glancing over at you. Your perfume smelled so intoxicating, it drove him wild. The way you studiously jotted down notes was so adorable. Then class ended much to the man’s horror, he hadn’t written down a single thing but most importantly you gathered your things to leave without saying a word to him. He lingered in the classroom a bit, slowly shoving his sketchbook back into his backpack.

A couple days passed before he could see you again, and the whole time he found it difficult to think about anything else other than you. Sol was a bit angry at himself for not even speaking to you, that was his chance to reintroduce himself. He would talk to you next time, he promised himself.

The next class came and you were once again in the same predicament as last time. Arrived to class right before the bell went off and the only seat opened was next to the same guy as before. Not that you minded, he seemed nice enough. “Hey.” You greeted him quietly as you sat down before taking a seat. “Hi.” He returned your greeting quietly. He once again didn’t speak to you and that cycle went on for some time, before finally he had an excuse for the two of you to speak. He wasn’t sure why he kept shying away from you. Shit, he could barely even concentrate in class.

Then the next class came. “Everyone, please pair up with the person beside you, I want you and your partner to discuss today’s chapter.” The professor mumbled as he took a seat back down at his desk, immediately kicking his feet onto the desk and tapping away on his phone.

Turning around with a sigh you looked at your partner with a smile, “Hi. Thanks for always saving me a seat. I’m ______.” You introduced yourself, then gave the dark haired man an encouraging nod to speak. I know what your name is. He thought. Sol rubbed the back of his neck, nervously avoiding your eyes, his gaze fixated to the side. “Yeah it’s no problem. I’m..Sol.” He introduced himself back, hoping that maybe you remembered him.

“Nice to meet you, Sol.” You chimed in reply, holding your hand out. He looked at your hand, then back at you before he shook your hand back. “Yeah, same.” He said, a small smile making its way to his pierced lips. The moment your hands touched, he felt his heart do a leap, and without meaning to he held onto your hand for a bit longer than usual. Though upon realizing that, he quickly pulled his hand away. Either you didn’t mind or just didn’t notice it, as you immediately turned your attention back to the textbook. So you didn’t remember him, that was okay it’s not like he ever went out of his way to speak to you at the library.

“So, this chapter…” you began as you pushed the textbook to the center of the table so you both could share. Sol didn’t speak too much, he was more interested in what you had to say, he nodded attentively and hummed in acknowledgment when he agreed with something you said. The professor didn’t seem too interested in teaching class, so the reminder was spent just conversing. You giggled as Sol said something as you playfully slapped his arm, “What, no way? You did not!” You quietly exclaimed as Sol told you a story. He nodded, “Yeah I really did. It’s embarrassing but it’s the truth.” He laughed softly. Every single fucking thing was so adorable about you; your name, laugh, appearance, personality, every single thing was so adorable. Then just as Sol was about to open his mouth to speak again, the bell rang.

Jumping up in your seat, you pushed the chair back, quickly gathering your belongings. “I gotta go, Sol. But you’ll save me a seat again right? I really enjoyed talking to you.” You asked, looking at him with the cutest expression. “Yeah of course.” He reassured you. “Thanks, you’re the best!” You said and with that, you rushed out of the classroom.

As Sol finished gathering his own belongings, he noticed something sitting on your chair. Your jacket was left behind. He grabbed it and quickly walked out of the classroom to see if he could catch up to you, but of course you were nowhere to be seen. ‘I’ll hold onto it. Give it to her next class.’ He thought to himself.

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“Woah, that's a cute jacket! You seeing a cute girl?” Hyugo asked his friend. The pair sat at their usual spot on the rooftop eating their lunches. Sol rolled his eyes, “No. The girl who sits next to me in art left it, I’m going to give it to her next class. I just didn’t want it to get lost.” He explained as he continued to eat. He could bring it to you at the library where you worked part time but no, he just wanted to hold onto a bit longer. It was a cute jacket, he couldn’t lie - it was black with striped sleeves and an adorable black cat patch was ironed onto the front. It suited you perfectly.

“Aren’t you so sweet?” Hyugo teased, causing his friend’s face to heat up. Sol grumbled under his breath as he just ignored the comment and continued to eat, only causing the other to laugh. As the bell rang, signaling that their final class of the day would begin and marking the end of their lunch break, the pair stood up. Sol gathered the bento boxes, placing them in his backpack.

“Are you doing anything after class?” Hyugo asked before they parted ways. Sol wasn’t, but he needed to spend some time alone, there was an issue he needed to take care of. “Yeah.” He simply responded. “Aw okay, I’ll just go to the arcade by myself then.” He shrugged before walking off.

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It was dark already when Sol arrived back to his small studio apartment, the short winter days meant it would always be night when he got home. The dark haired man sat his bag on a chair, taking out the bentos to wash. He remembered your jacket was still in his hands, so carefully he placed it on the top of the couch. And so he did his usual evening routine; cleaning dishes, cooking dinner and lunch. The television was playing a show he really had no interest in watching, but it was good background noise.

But he just couldn’t stop thinking about you, eyes flicking to the jacket on the sofa as he prepared his and Hyugo’s lunches. Sol felt the crotch of his pants tighten uncomfortably against him, he swallowed the lump that formed in his throat as his heart rate accelerated. But he remained focused just hurrying to finish dinner as soon as possible so he could shower and lay in bed. Tomorrow was early classes after all.

Finally after some time Sol had showered and flopped onto his bed, an exhausted sigh escaping his lips. He closed his eyes as he tried to focus on anything other than you. But his boxers were so incredibly tight, his erection wouldn’t go away no matter what he tried to do. It felt wrong to touch himself to you, so resisting the urge Sol finally fell asleep. Tonight at least he was able to resist the urge.

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The next day of classes came and nothing extraordinary happened. Sol couldn’t spot you anywhere, he supposed he would have to wait until tomorrow to see you and return the jacket. His evening routine was more or less the same, but as he laid in bed tonight, the urges were getting harder and harder to resist.

Sol tried to squeeze his eyes shut, trying to think of anything else other than the raging erection in his pants right now. His gaze kept flickering to your jacket, he was reminded of how amazing you smelled. He just wanted to smell the perfume again, there was no harm in that…right? Quickly getting out of bed, he snatched your jacket from the couch, immediately pressing it to his nose. Oh god, you smelled so fucking good. He was intoxicated by the scent, his eyes rolling back as he took in your smell, and without even realizing what was happening, his hands trailed down his torso until they slipped under the waistband of his boxers. His long slender fingers immediately wrapped themselves around his erection.

Sol began to pump his cock, a whimper leaving him as his thumb grazed over his tip. Precum was already pooling at the slit, his face still buried in your cute jacket. He could only imagine what it would feel like to have his face buried in your hair, neck…your pussy. He fantasized how amazing you would taste as his face was between your thighs, he’d make you feel so good. He had wanted you for so long now.

“_____…._______….” Sol whimpered your name, scarlet eyes fluttering shut as his pace quickened. At this point he was panting heavily, a complete mess and if your mere scent was doing this to him, he couldn’t imagine how he’d act during the actual act. His cock twitched in his hand and legs trembled; he collapsed onto his knees. He was now thrusting himself eagerly into the palm of his hands, precum lubricating his cock. Sol’s moans echoed throughout the apartment and he felt the warm sensation building up in his core, then with one final thrust he came loudly. “Oh fuck ______!” He cried out, his cum making an absolute mess of his boxers.

Riding out his orgasm he finally came to a stop and dropped the jacket onto the floor. His chest moving up and down as he tried to catch his breath, the whole of his body was a hue of red and warm to the touch. Dark hair sticking to his face from the beads of sweat that had formed. He made sure to toss your jacket onto the couch before he removed his hand from his boxers. A wave of embarrassment and guilt washed over him when he saw sticky cum coating his hand. I shouldn’t have done that. It felt so good though. He thought with a sigh as he stood to his feet. I should go wash up.

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Class was the next day, and that meant Sol could finally see you, he could return your jacket. He waited until after class, when you both were in the hallway. A part of him debated on not giving it back, he wanted it forever, to always have you with him, but he decided against it and it was worth it. The look on your face when he had handed you your jacket back was worth it. “Oh my gosh, Sol. I was so worried I had lost my favorite jacket forever. Thank you so much!” You exclaimed as you hugged him briefly, before you slipped it back on. “Yeah..of course. I tried looking for you yesterday to return it but I couldn’t find you anywhere.” He explained. A tinge of red evident on his pale features as he was reminded of what he did the night before with it. He violated your poor jacket, but of course he would never tell you that.

You shook your head, waving your hand dismissively, “Sorry about that! I was in such a rush to leave. My other job needed me to cover a shift.” You explained. You had another job besides the library?

But he didn’t mind; he was just glad he could keep your jacket safe from anyone else. Fumbling in the pocket of your pants you pulled out your cell phone, “We should exchange numbers! Just in case one of us needs to get into contact with each other.” You suggested, swiping your finger across to unlock the device. He watched as you typed away on the screen before handing it to him.

Sol’s heart was beating so quickly now, you were really asking for his number? He looked a bit uncomfortable, like he was rejecting your offer, because you began to pull away your phone looking at the floor embarrassedly. “S-sorry. I shouldn’t ha-“ you began but he cut you off, gently snatching the phone from your hand. And within seconds he typed in his number, he already noticed you made a contact name for him. Sol ☀️

But something else caught his attention as he felt the phone vibrate in his hand.

Crowe 🐦‍⬛ : You’re still coming over tonight, right?

Something inside of the dark haired man awakened when he saw that text. He froze in place, his blush that tinted his features now went away. Who the hell is Crowe? He thought bitterly. Your boyfriend or a coworker? He only snapped out of his thoughts when you retrieved your phone back, your thumbs danced across the screen then he felt his pocket vibrate.

“Did you get it?” You asked curiously, tilting your head so cutely to the side. “L-let me check.” Sol quickly said and pulled out his phone. His boring black phone background was illuminated with your text.

Unknown: hii! it’s ______ :D

Without a moment of hesitation he saved your contact. ______ 🌙

His contact was saved with a sun by his name so it only made sense that you were the moon. With that, you two said your goodbyes and Sol watched as you walked down the hall, he stood in his spot with a small smile on his lips.

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It was the weekend which meant Sol would do his weekly cleaning of his apartment. Loud music echoed throughout the apartment as he cleaned, humming softly to himself. Something caught his eye as he was vacuuming under the couch, a small piece of rectangular plastic glittered as it caught the light from the ceiling fan. Crouching, he picked it up and his eyes widened instantly when he realized what it was. Your ID had fallen out from the pocket of your jacket, he assumed. And all of your information was on it.

“______ ______..” Sol whispered your full name. He didn't know what it was before. Your address was there too, and it looked recent, judging from the picture and expiration date. The card shook ever so slightly in his fingers as he was practically salivating that he would now be able to find so many more things about you.

Halting his cleaning for the day, he shut off the music and instantly opened up his laptop to begin searching your name online. Hours had passed, day turned into night. Sol’s scarlet red irises were glazed over, his lips dry and mouth a bit parched. He hadn’t left his laptop screen in hours, too engrossed with finding out every single detail about you. Your social media wasn’t private, how foolish of you. And he scrolled through the dozens of pictures you had posted, finding out everyone you associated it with. The page refreshed and a new picture was posted. You are with a group of people at what looked like a bar, with the caption: Love my friends!! Tonight was so fun, let’s do it again!! :D

Sol remembered the text from this “Crowe” earlier and he began to examine the picture, trying to find out who this Crowe was. His eyes narrowed when he saw the man next to you in the picture. A long haired brunette with tan skin, he swore he had seen that face before. This Crowe was behind your frame, hands resting on either of your shoulders. To anyone else they would have assumed that you and the man were friends, nothing in the pose indicated anything romantic, but to Sol it was too much. He didn’t want to see another man behind you touching you like that. Standing up he slammed his laptop shut and decided he needed to go to bed before he got too consumed by his jealousy and anger.

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As days turned into weeks, then eventually into months, Sol and you grew closer. You were regularly texting and hanging out. He had found out that your lunches consisted of junk food, and that was even if you brought lunch to campus. So he decided to start prepping your lunches, and even dinners as soon as he found out you ate cup noodles nearly every night. God, you were cute albeit a bit useless, he didn’t mind cooking for you, it only made him feel wanted - and the look on your face every time you ate his meals just made him filled with so much joy.

You were so kind and introduced him to your friend group, Crowe was kind enough and he kept his hands off of you in Sol’s presence. But he knew that man looked familiar, and Crowe looked at him with suspicious eyes and a fake smile. Sol only remained cordial with your friends though, if they made you happy he’d pretend to be friendly with them. But the man never returned your ID, it was his now. You complained about having to buy a new one, but he made sure to slip some extra cash into your backpack one day when you weren’t looking. The text he received that night was so adorable. “Omg Sol I found some cash at the bottom of my backpack. I’m eating good tonight! >:3”

It was so worth it. But Sol had a dirty secret that he couldn’t tell a living soul. He was slipping sleeping medication into the dinners he made you, he made a copy of your apartment key, and he was letting himself into your home every night. It was all in an attempt to make sure you were safe!

“My neighborhood is so unsafe. I really need to find somewhere else to live. There’s been so many recent break ins and assaults, and I live at ground level.” He remembered you complaining.

“You can stay at my place, _______. It’s a decent neighborhood. Lots of old people, so it’s quiet.” He offered.

“Sol! No, I can't do that. You already do enough for me. I got new locks on everything and alarms.” You retorted with a pout. He knew you wouldn’t change your mind, you weren’t that type of girl. You were independent, but that was okay. Sol would still keep an eye on you. Knowing you kept a spare key hidden away, he found it and while you were at work he had a copy made, then placed the key back without you being none the wiser.

Tonight wasn’t any different, Sol waited until you were asleep and he slipped into your quiet, dark apartment. He could navigate your home in the dark. That's how familiar he was with the layout, but the dim street lights also did aid him. Your bedroom door was slightly ajar and he quickly made his way in.

The streetlights illuminated your room, he saw your sleeping form on the bed, one hand hanging off the side of the bed and your blankets messily thrown on top of your body. In fact, the blankets barely covered any of your body. You wore an oversized t-shirt and the cutest panties - the shirt was raised and exposed your bare torso. “Were you waiting for me dear?” He whispered as he knelt down at your bedside. Folding his hands on the edge of the bed, he rested his chin on top, his gaze was so loving - but there was something so dark about the way he looked at you. Raising a hand up, Sol’s slender fingers brushed aside the hair on your face. “So cute…” he breathed out.

You shifted, your eyes squeezing shut as a quiet groan left your lips. When you moved through, your shirt lifted just a bit more, revealing your breast partially. Sol felt his face grow warm and he tried to avert his gaze, but it was like you were practically begging for him, looking so cute and innocent. He choked back a moan as he felt his dick get hard, his fingers wrapped around the wrist of your limp hand and he placed his cheek into your warm palm. His eyes fluttered shut as he let out a content sigh, “You're asking me to do something, huh dear?” He mumbled. That had to be it or why else were you wearing such an outfit is that why you left your bedroom door opened? You were inviting him in, right?

Sol leaned down to press a kiss to your exposed neck, he nibbled softly at the skin. A quiet whimper escaping you as your brows furrowed. So cute. He thought, still nipping at the skin, leaving a faint red mark. His hand trailed down your neck until his fingers reached your breast, he gently massaged it for a brief moment. Another quiet whimper came from you. He let your hand that was cupping his cheek fall onto the bed for a moment, as his fingers fumbled with the belt of his pants and with a swift motion his dick was out. Already hard from anticipation, he positioned himself in your hands, he laced both your and his fingers together. He let out a moan feeling your fingers wrapped around his dick.

His whole body shuddered in pleasure at the feeling, and he buried his face between your breasts to quiet his moans as he began to rock his hips back and forth. His sensitive tip fucked your palm as he moaned out your name from between your breasts. Tears pooling at the corner of his closed eyes as pathetic needy whimpers left him.

“You’re mine. Mine..you’re mine ______. I love you so much.” He cried as he felt himself about to cum. Then, with another thrust he came hard into your and his laced hands. As he calmed his breathing down he slowly lifted his head up, you were still asleep, oblivious to the lewd act he just made you do. “You’re so beautiful, dear. You feel so perfect.” He whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

Standing up he pulled his pants back on, then walked to the bathroom to wash his sticky hands. Grabbing a rag he wet, he walked back to clean up the mess he left on your hands. “Crowe..the paper...” you mumbled in your sleep. Sol’s scarlet eyes widened in shock at the name, why were you talking about him when he was right here. His fists clenched and eyes narrowed, a dark cloud casting over his face. “You really ought to stop talking about him, dear. Crowe doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t understand you like I do.” He hissed through gritted teeth. You were just confused - that’s okay, Sol was patient. He leaned down to press a kiss against your lips once again before wishing you a good night. With that, he quietly slipped out of your apartment.

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The final day of class before winter break came the next day. You and Sol sat in art class together, sketching your final assignment. The classroom was quiet as everyone worked. You kept glancing at the dark haired man next you, a faint blush on your face as you remembered the brief dream you had of him last night. You dreamt that he was having sex with you, you heard his moans as he fucked you. Then, just before the dream actually got good, your mind decided that all of a sudden you were going to dream about you and Crowe finishing up your finals paper for English class that you had done earlier yesterday. God! Why did his stupid pretty face have to ruin the best dream you ever had!

Class couldn’t end any sooner and the Professor motioned for everyone to turn in their assignments. He reminded the students to check their emails during the winter break to see their grades. You quickly stood out of your seat, the chair nearly falling back as you fumbled with putting your things away. Sol noticed that something was off about you, you wouldn’t look at him at all. Surely you didn’t know what he did with you last night, right? He slung his backpack over his shoulder as he watched you as you zipped up your backpack. “Want to go to the arcade?” He asked you suddenly, “Hyugo and I are going since classes ended early today. Like right now.” He added.

Snapping your head up, you actually looked at him for the first time today. Your eyes meeting his, “O-oh…umm. I’d love to but I don’t have any…money.” You mumbled, voice trailing off at the end. “Campus library let go of all the part timers a few weeks ago, remember? And my other job cut my hours. So it’s tight right now.” You sighed sadly. “I wasn’t asking you to pay. I just asked if you wanted to come with us?” He said.

Sol noticed a strand of hair hanging in front of your face so reached a gentle hand up to brush it aside, tucking the strand behind your ear. “I’ll pay. You know I’ll always take care of you, ______.” He reminded you with a kind smile that made your heart flutter. It was something he always told you, you weren’t sure why he was so kind to you when you had nothing to offer him in return. You were a broke college student who couldn’t even cook your own meals. A faint blush dusted your cheeks as you shyly looked away, “O..okay. Then yes, I want to go.” You shyly said as you tugged at the sleeves of your favorite jacket.

“Alright, good. Here I’ll carry your bag. Hyugo should be waiting at the entrance.” Sol said, taking your bag from you with a swift motion. You tried to protest but he was already walking ahead so you were more focused on catching up to him.

The walk to the arcade didn’t take long, but you were shivering from the cold winter breeze. Sol noticed you shivering and he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, bringing you close to him. You looked up at him before looking away shyly. Once inside the arcade, the three of you played games for some time. You pointed at a claw machine, wanting to win the cute cat plushie, you tapped at the glass before looking back up at Sol with big pleading eyes. “Aw, it's so cute. Do we have enough coins to win it?” You asked excitedly. Sol patted his pockets and sighed, shaking his head. “No, but I can go get some more if you’d like?” He asked, he just wanted to see you happy.

Hyugo nodded, “Yeah let’s play some more games! Oh, let’s get some food too. I’m starving!” He exclaimed, nudging Sol’s side. Sol looked at you, waiting for your answer. “That sounds good to me. While you two do that, I’m going to head to the bathroom. I’ll meet you back here.” You said. The pair nodded and with that you went your separate ways.

You found the restroom. It was located in the back of the arcade and once done, you hummed quietly as you made your way back to the claw machine with the plushie you wanted. But you unbeknownst drew unwanted attention to yourself; you hadn’t even stepped a few feet back out of the bathroom when you were immediately cornered by a much taller and bigger man than yourself. He backed you in between two large pinball machines, leaving you trapped. “Hey sexy. You got a boyfriend?” He slurred, it was obvious he was drunk. He had both of his arms on either side of your head so you could barely move. “Not interested.” You spat as you tried pushing him away, but to no avail. That seemed to only anger him more as he lowered his face to be at eye level with you. “Come on, don’t be like that. I’ll treat you nicely.” He said, though this time his voice was much darker. The stench of alcohol lingered with every breath he took. You turned your face to the side, but that seemed to only anger him and this time he grabbed your jaw roughly in his hands, forcing you to look at him.

“Don’t turn away, sweetheart. Just come on let me sh—“ he began, but suddenly his hand was ripped away from your face and you closed your eyes, fully expecting to get hit. You heard shouting and skin hitting skin, you still kept your eyes shut, flinching with every sound. The noise of the arcade was too loud and you slid down the wall, covering your face with your hands as you buried your face against your knees.

“Don’t you fucking touch her! I’ll kill you!” You heard a familiar voice shout, it was then you uncovered your face and your eyes widened in shock as you saw Sol fighting with the man, both with bloody noses. Hyugo pulled Sol away while a random person held back the other man. The two men were still shouting curses at one another, though you were so overwhelmed you could barely understand what they were saying. You noticed Hyugo was having trouble holding back Sol, so you quickly scrambled to your feet and stepped in front of the dark haired man, pressing your hands against his chest. “Sol! *Enough!*” you pleaded, tears forming in your eyes. The drunk man had lost his balance at some point and fell to the floor, but he was still threatening you and Sol. The man called you every name in the book, and he was mocking you - but you didn’t care. You just wanted to get out of here. There was a terrifying look in Sol’s scarlet eyes and it turned your blood cold. “Sol *please,* let’s just go.” You pleaded with him once again.

As soon as Sol heard your voice waver, he stopped and his eyes widened in a mixture of horror and guilt as he realized that you were crying. He cupped your face in his hands, shaking his head, “No, no, no. Please don’t cry. I’m done. We can go.” He said in a panic, “He didn’t hurt you, right? He didn’t touch you?” He asked. You shook your head, “No. I’m okay.” You reassured him, just wanting to leave. Your lip quivered as you looked up at him and you simply nodded, taking his hand in yours as you dragged him out of the arcade. Though when Sol was certain you weren’t looking, he turned back to the man and spat at him before he followed you out.

Once outside you wiped your tears away with your jacket sleeve, smearing your makeup a bit in the process, but you didn’t care. You didn’t dare let go of Sol’s hand, afraid that if you did he would turn back and actually kill the man. Hyugo sighed, rubbing his temples, “We should leave before the cops get called.” He mumbled. Sol clicked his tongue in annoyance, “We didn’t do anything wrong. That low life touched ______. I just defended her.” He spat back. You tugged Sol’s hand, “I want to go home.” You sniffled. “I’ll walk her home. You go ahead, Hyugo.” He said. The blue haired man raised a brow, by the way he looked at his friend you sensed that maybe he didn’t want to leave him alone. “You’ll call right? As soon as you dropped ______ off at home?” He asked, his brows furrowing.

Sol had already wrapped his arm around your waist, your and his backpack slung over his shoulders. “Yeah, I will. See you later.” He said pulling you along to walk off in the other direction. Hyugo just nodded watching as you two walked off.

Sol didn’t let go of your waist for the whole walk home, he held you protectively, glaring at anyone who looked in your general direction. Once you arrived back at your apartment you fished around in your jacket pocket for your keys, eventually finding them and unlocking the door. “Do..do you want to come in?” You asked Sol shyly. You were really inviting him inside! He felt his heart skip a beat and he swallowed nervously, “Sure.” He smiled and stepped inside after you, setting down the bags onto a stool by the door.

You untied your sneakers and left them at the door before you looked up at the tall man. “Do you want tea? Coffee?” You asked him.

“What do you want? I can start the water.” He asked you back.

“Tea sounds good. Something relaxing.” You replied, motioning him to follow you into the kitchen. You poured water into the electric kettle on the countertop as you reached into the cabinets to grab two cups. “Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to change real quick.” You smiled before walking off towards your bedroom to change. Sol already knew where everything was located, so he grabbed two tea bags, setting them into the ceramic mugs as he waited for the water to boil. Then a thought ran through his mind as his hand absentmindedly rested on his front pocket. You didn’t get to eat the dinner he made you for tonight which meant you wouldn’t sleep well.

So before the water was done boiling he pulled out a small bag in his pocket, and broke apart the sleeping pill, letting it dissolve in the hot water. He just wanted to make sure that you’d be able to sleep tonight was all.

When you walked back out of your room, your tea was already made and Sol was sipping on his as he leaned against the wall. He looked at your outfit, did you wear something like that on purpose to tease him? You wore tight shorts, a tank top, your favorite jacket unzipped, and the cutest bunny shaped slippers. “Thank you so much, Sol.” You smiled at him as you held the mug in your hands and slowly sipped on it. He nodded, “Of course. Anything for you.” He said returning your smile. You chatted with him for a while it was obvious that you were just stalling, you didn’t want him to leave. You were still shaken up from earlier, from both how Sol reacted and to what may have happened if he wasn’t there to save you from that man.

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You sat on the couch, legs crossed as some random show played quietly in the background. Sol sat across from you, you both had long finished your tea. He could tell you were getting a bit more sluggish, “I’m sleepy, Sol.” You yawned. “You should go..it’s getting late. Hyugo is probably worried about you.” You mumbled, rubbing your eyes with your sleeve. Sol frowned, “It’s okay. I don’t mind. I want to make sure that you’re okay.” He replied back, he didn’t want to leave you alone.

“I’m okay. I just don’t want to be alone..” you sniffled. “I think someone has been breaking into my house.” You then said, flicking your gaze up to look at him with a worried expression. Sol froze, his breath hitched in his throat. “W..what? Why do you think that?” He asked, trying to remain calm. Folding your hands together in your lap, your eyes darted around before landing back on him, “Sometimes things are out of place.” Is all you said, “So please don’t leave me alone.” You then pleaded, suddenly leaning over towards him on all fours.

Sol’s eyes flickered to your face and to the gap between your shirt, he could see you weren’t wearing a bra and he shifted awkwardly in his spot on the couch as he tried to remaining eye contact with you. Placing a hand over his crotch, he let out a cough, a dark red blush making its way to his pale features. “Okay. I won’t. I’ll stay as long as you want me to.” He responded, a look of desperation in his eyes. You smiled, feeling butterflies in your stomach when he said those words. Then your mind wandered back to the dream you had last night, you sat back legs now folded underneath you.

“Can you come lay down with me in bed?” You asked him, looking away shyly. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stay up much longer. Plus it’s more comfortable than staying out here.” You added. Sol found it hard to even speak now, he nodded and bit his lip. You stood up and began to walk towards your bedroom, turning off the lights along the way. Before you rounded the corner you noticed that he was still sitting on the couch, “Are you coming? You don’t have—“ you began only to be cut off by him springing up, “I am.” He mumbled shyly as he followed you into your familiar bedroom.

Your bedsheets were messily strewn about on your bed, like always. Clothes tossed haphazardly throughout the room, he watched as you shrugged off your jacket, tossing it on the vanity chair and you kicked off your slippers. You crawled into bed, pulling the sheets over your cold body. “What do you usually wear to sleep, Sol?” You asked him curiously, waiting for him to come lay down as yet another yawn left you.

“My..boxers.” Sol replied shyly, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoided your cute gaze. “You can sleep like that here. I don’t mind.” You mumbled motioning with your hand for him to come lay down. “A-are you sure?” He stammered, already unbuckling his belt, his hands shaking a bit in anticipation. “Mhm.” You hummed reassuringly, squeezing your legs together tightly. Sol wasted no time in taking off his clothes, it was a shame the room was so dimly lit so you couldn’t see him. He sat at the edge of the bed, still unsure of what he needed to do.

You tugged at his wrist, “Lay down with me. Under the blankets.” You encouraged him in a sleepy voice. He let you pull him down onto the bed, his heart was racing so fast he found it hard to breathe. As you both now laid under the covers he could feel your body heat, you were so close to him. Your bed wasn’t big by any means, so your bodies were practically touching. “I really like you, Sol.” You suddenly said, you weren’t sure why you blurted that out, maybe it was your drowsy drugged state that made you say something you didn’t mean to.

Sol’s eyes widened in shock as he turned his head to face you. He could make out your soft features from the dim city streetlights that peaked through the curtains. Your hand now was on his chest, you could feel how fast his heart was beating. “You take care of me. You’re so kind. I’ve never had anybody care for me like you do.” You mumbled, leaning over until your noses touched.

Sol raised a shaking hand to cup your face, his thumb caressing your cheek. “I’ll always take care of you, ______. I’ll be here. No matter what.” He whispered back. His words were so kind and gentle, yet there was darkness in which he spoke. You blushed and looked away, your eyes closing shut as you finally closed the distance between your lips. You were a bit unsure on how to kiss him, not wanting to mess with his lip rings too much, but as soon as your lips met something clicked inside the raven haired man.

He returned your kiss desperately, not wanting to stop. Were you really doing this? Was this seriously happening?! He thought. It was a shame you were half asleep, but it still didn’t stop you from your next move. You rolled onto of him, your legs straddling his waist as you cupped his face in your hands, kissing him with inexperience. It wasn’t like Sol minded though, he was also just as inexperienced. His hands were on your waist, fingernails digging into your soft skin as he let out a needy whimper when he felt you grinding against his dick.

“Do you like me, Sol?” You asked him, breaking away from the kiss for a few moments as you continued to grind against him. When he took too long to answer you paused and lifted yourself up about to get up. Feeling utterly rejected by him, humiliated. But his hands slammed you back down on top of him. A crazed look on his face, “Y-yes I do. I like you. You’re my soulmate, ______.” He desperately spoke, his eyes flickering trying to read your expression. All you heard was “yes”, as you began to fade in and out of consciousness, despite desperately trying to stay awake.

“G..good.” You mumbled against his lips, beginning to grind against him again as you cupped his face. Sol returned your kisses as he let out whiny moans of your name, begging you for more. He wanted to feel your pussy, god knows how long he had waited to fuck you. His hands let go of your hips and now tugged at the waistband of his boxers. He managed to slip them off and when he felt how wet your panties were a pathetic whimper left his lips. He pushed your panties aside and now he could really feel how wet your pussy was. His dick pushed between your folds, you shivered as you felt his tip slide over your clit. “S-sol.” You whimpered his name.

Oh god, just you saying his name so lewdly was almost enough to push him over the edge. “A-ah.” He cried out as he felt your pace quicken. He loved the way you were using him, like he was nothing more than a toy for you to hump to reach your orgasm. The head of his dick was so sensitive and he felt your clit rubbing against it. “I..I’m gonna cum.” He warned you. Sol’s fingers digging into the plush skin of your thighs as he bucked his hips upward. “I-I wanna fuck you…please. Feel your pussy…please.” He begged, biting your lip. But you ignored him continuing to grind against his hard dick as your moans became a bit louder, your thighs shaking. You could feel yourself about to cum, but Sol suddenly let out a yell. “A-ah ahh ______.” He cried as his hot cum shot out. He threw his head back, eyes squeezing shut as tears pooled in the corner of them, his back arched, and fingernails scratching your thighs enough to leave a mark and draw some blood. His body shook under yours.

You felt the warm sensation rising from your core, your clit becoming more sensitive by the seconds. Sol’s thick cum now providing more lubrication. His whimpering of your name and pleading was enough to push you over the edge and moments later you joined him in his orgasm. You cried out his name as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, holding onto him tightly as you rode out your orgasm. Honestly you weren’t sure if you were or not, your mind was so hazy. Then you suddenly came to a stop, your body shaking a bit as your eyes closed shut.

Sol caught his breath, his hands rubbed up and down your back and he realized you had fallen asleep. The medicine had taken its full effect. He wrapped his arms tightly around you pressing a kiss on top of your head a content smile on his lips. “You’re mine. Mine…you’ll never have to be alone again.” He mumbled against your hair. His scarlet eyes gazing at the ceiling as you were fast asleep against his chest. At some point he fell asleep still holding onto you, with his dick between your thighs.

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You had awoken the next morning a bit groggy, you realized you were in bed with someone and you stared down in horror as you realized that you had slept with Sol. You only remembered bits and pieces of the nights before, and your sticky panties confirmed that you two had been intimate in some way. You wiggled out of his strong arms as quietly as you could and rushed to the bathroom, grabbing your phone careful to not wake him up.

After you cleaned yourself up and changed, you sat on the ledge of the bathtub typing away rapidly on your phone.

Crowe I NEED YOU NOW!!!!

What’s up? You okay?

NOOO. I think I just messed up. I think I ruined a friendship.

Woah calm down, ______. Is this about him?

YES. Can we meet up at the cafe? Please. Right now.

Yes. I’ll be there in a few.

Thanks.

With that you clicked your phone shut and quickly got dressed into your clothes from yesterday, not wanting to disturb Sol’s sleep. You peeked into your room and still saw him resting. You left the house getting your wallet and keys and tossing them into your jacket.

Sol woke up not long after you had left the house and when he didn’t feel your presence he immediately shot up in bed, panic beginning to set in. Where were you?! He grabbed his phone getting ready to dial your number when he saw a text appear on the screen.

I’ll be back soon. :3

He calmed down a bit, laying the phone in his lap as he ran a hand through his messy hair. Why didn’t you tell him you had somewhere to go? Why would you leave alone in the morning after everything that had happened last night? It was then he felt a bit angry, wondering why you were sneaking around. Snatching his phone back up he called you but you kept ignoring his calls, finally though you answered.

“Hello.” Your voice came through on the other end, there was also another voice on the other end too. It was one he recognized. It was Crowe. He felt himself grow even more angry as jealousy filled him. Why the hell are you with him?!

“Who are you with?” Sol asked, his voice as sickly sweet.

“Shhhh be quiet. Yeah, hi Sol, I’m with a friend. Don’t worry, I’ll be back home soon.” He heard you shushing Crowe. His grip tightened on the phone, if he squeezed any harder he may have shattered the screen. “When will you be back? Where are you?” He asked, this time his tone wasn’t as sweet.

“Sol…please don’t worry about it. I promise I’ll be back home soon. I gotta go.” You reassured him before hanging up.

Sol was furious, he slammed the phone face down onto the night stand, the glass screen shattering. Why is he interfering? Why does she keep hanging out with him? Doesn’t he know ______’s mine?! So many jealous thoughts flowed through his head as he quickly got dressed. He freshened himself up before he left your apartment, storming on the busy streets. What you hadn’t known was that Sol had installed a tracker on your phone many nights ago. He was really trying to give you the chance to tell him where you were without having to resort to using the tracker, but you wouldn’t tell him. He had no other choice but to use it, and make sure you were okay. He had to make sure that filthy Crowe wasn’t touching you. And he needed to show the brunet who you belonged to.

It was a rainy day and he didn’t care if he got wet, he was determined to find out where you were. The tracker led him to a busy coffee shop where he saw you and Crowe sitting near the window. His scarlet eyes met bright blue ones, belonging to the last person he wanted to see. Sol’s eyes narrowed, and all the brunet did was return a sly smirk before mouthing something to you. You whipped your head around just as Sol stormed into the coffee shop, immediately making his way to the table you two sat at. He tried to maintain his composure, his chest rising with every deep breath he took as he glared at the man sitting across from you.

“Sol? H-How did you know I was here?” You asked him in shock. He ignored your question continuing to glare daggers at Crowe, who sipped on his coffee nonchalantly. “Hey there. Care to join us?” He asked with a polite smile, motioning with his hand to the available seat.

“No. ______, we’re going home. Now.” Sol demanded, now turning to look at you. He grabbed your wrist and you tried to jerk away, “Ow, Sol!” You cried out, which caused him to immediately drop your hand. “Are you okay?” He asked, his angry expression now etched into worry. You frowned, rubbing your wrist, “Y..yeah. I told you I’d be gone later. Please stop this.” You pleaded, looking at him with big eyes.

“You should be gentle with her, Sol.” Crowe scolded half heartedly. “______, you should go. Don’t keep him waiting. We can talk soon, I have to get to work anyways.” He smiled warmly at you.

“But I—“ you stammered, but the brunet cut you off with a wave. “Seriously, it’s fine. Just remember what we talked about, okay?” He winked, it was purposeful, he was trying to get under Sol’s skin and it was working.

Sol grabbed your wrist a bit more gently this time as you stood up, “We’re leaving. Bye.” He spat, glaring at the man as he dragged you out of the coffee shop. All the while Crowe watched with furrowed brows and a forced smile. He didn’t like Sol, he didn’t like him at all. But whatever made you happy, he’d tolerate.

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Sol was dragging you down the street as you squirmed under his tight grasp on your wrist. The whole time you demanded to know what had gotten into him! This wasn’t the Sol you knew. Ever since the arcade, you noticed a sudden shift in his personality, it was instantaneous. As you two arrived back at your apartment, he shoved you inside with a forceful hand, slamming and locking the door shut. “What the hell is wrong with you, Sol?!” You screamed at him as you tossed your phone, keys, and wallet onto the kitchen counter.

Sol’s eyes were narrowed still as he walked towards you, instinctively you stumbled backwards until you found yourself with your back pinned against the wall with nowhere to go. His tall frame towering above you. “What’s wrong with me? You’re the one sneaking around with that bastard.” He hissed as he slammed his palms on either side of your head, pinning you between his arms. “I’ve tolerated him long enough. Doesn’t he know you belong to me?! I’m the one that’s caring for you and protecting you. While he does nothing.” He snapped angrily.

You cowered beneath him, beginning to grow a bit scared, “Y-you’re scaring me, Sol.” You whimpered. He clicked his tongue in annoyance; he didn’t like you pretending to be innocent in all of this. Perhaps you and that bastard needed reminding of who you belonged to. Sol crashed his lips against yours roughly, you felt his tongue trace the bottom of your lip. But when you were tightening your lips together to deny him, he bit your lip causing your lips to part open in surprise and with that his pierced tongue forced its way into your mouth. One hand on your jaw forcing your head to tilt up. You tasted like coffee and sugar, he didn’t mind at all though. It suited you.

You cried against him. He was being so forceful it was terrifying. He pulled away panting heavily, a string of saliva connecting your and his lips. His hand was still firmly holding your chin. “I don’t think you realize, dear. That you’re mine. No one else can have you. Ever. I won’t allow it.” He muttered. He noticed that your eyes were watery and a sympathetic smile made its way to his pierced lips. “Aww..please don’t cry, baby. I don’t want to make you cry. I promise I’ll make you feel good. You just need to be reminded that you’re mine.” He said in a gentle voice as his thumb wiped away your tears.

“I’m scared.” You whimpered.

Sol leaned down to press a much more gentle kiss to your lips, “You won’t be for long. You’ll be feeling so good in a minute.” He purred and with that he picked you up holding you so gently in his arms bridal style as he continued to kiss your lips. Once inside the bedroom he tossed you onto the bed and hovered over you beginning to tug at the waistband of your pants. “N-no Sol.” You whined but your arousal said otherwise. The truth was you were so turned on by him. You had wanted him in this way for so long.

Sol ignored your pleas and within a couple minutes he had you stripped of your clothes. You laid on your back on the bed as you looked at his nearly naked body, he stood only in his boxers. And now with the sun peeking through the blinds basking the room in a bright light you saw just how big Sol was. His body was well toned, just perfect. You saw the erection in his pants and you swallowed nervously at just how big he was. You weren’t sure if he was even fully hard yet.

You didn’t get to stare at him for too long though as he got to his knees, kneeling in front of your legs. “I’m going to make you feel so good dear. You won’t ever think of anyone else but me.” He said it almost came out as a warning. His slender hands pushed your legs apart and the look of pure lust was on his face. You tried to cover yourself up with your hands but he wouldn’t let you. “So pretty.” He whispered. God, he dreamt for so long to be buried between your thighs eating you out.

You jumped when you felt Sol’s tongue licking your pussy, the muscle dragging slowly between the slit. You felt the cold metal piercing drag along sending a shiver up your spine. He let out a moan as he tasted you. God, you tasted better than he could have ever imagined. He pushed your legs further apart and spread open your pussy, you squirmed a bit at being so exposed. Your hands balled up the fabric of the bed sheet beneath you as you felt the ball of his piercing roll over your clit, causing you to let out a loud moan. You knew you messed up when you gave him that reaction, because he immediately began to suck at your sensitive clit, rolling his piercing over it every single time causing you to moan louder. His tongue moving from teasing your clit to probing your wet hole. He wanted to taste every bit of you, this was pure bliss for the raven haired man.

“So good.” Sol praised. It was hard to focus as he sucked the sensitive bud, your head spinning as your legs quivered. He wouldn’t let you close your legs, no matter how much you tried. His tongue worked so expertly, he knew exactly how to get you whimpering under him. “Sol!” You yelped when you felt his tongue enter you, causing your hips to buck and your back to arch. It was such a strange feeling but god it felt so good. He was trying to fuck you with his tongue. Your hands tangled in his dark loose hair as you tilted his head back up to focus on your clit. “I-I’m gonna..” you gasped, squeezing your eyes shut as the warm sensation began to build more and more. Your breathing became more frantic and with another roll of his pierced tongue against your clit, your legs closed, Sol’s face still between your thighs as you held him there cumming all over his face. You were practically screaming his name as he continued to suck on your overstimulated clit. You begged him to stop, so he did and instead decided to clean you up.

Sol’s tongue lapped up every last bit of your juices, you tasted so amazing. He was drunk off of your scent—taste. Everything about you drove him crazy. He could spend the rest of his life buried between your thighs, licking your pussy and letting you cum all over his face. He was yours to use. “N-no more. Please.” You begged, your body falling limp.

Sol gave you one last taste, his tongue swiping up the full length of your pussy before he sat up. He licked his wet lips, “See..I’m the only one who can make you feel this good, dear.” He said matter of factly. He stood up pulling down his boxers revealing his hard dick. When you looked at him you nearly choked on your own spit. How the hell were you supposed to take him? He hadn’t stretched you out with his fingers to prepare you. “I-I can’t take you without—“ you began. But Sol leaned forward kissing you, shutting you up. “It’s okay. I’ll be slow.” He mumbled against your lips.

His tall frame towered above you, it was so intimidating, the way he looked at you with half lidded eyes and a small smile on his face. His arms were on either side of you pinning you between him. You felt the tip of his dick poke at your entrance. Sol continued to gently kiss you as he pushed himself inside you, he let out quiet whimpers as slowly filled you up. His body shuddered at the sensation, your tight pussy was everything he had ever dreamed off. “Fuck…oh god you feel so good, ______.” He moaned as he sat up now. Placing his hands on your inner thighs, he spread your legs apart as far as he could without hurting you. He wanted to see how well you took him.

Inch by inch Sol sank into you, it was agonizing how slow he went but by the look on his face he was savoring every moment. He was panting quietly trying to control himself, he did want to hear his soulmate after all. You squirmed under his strong grasp as he filled you up beyond belief. You weren’t ready to take him, he was so big it hurt. “S-Sol.” You cried, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes as you felt the tip hit deep inside, causing you to flinch in pain.

“It’s okay. You’re doing so well, dear.” He praised you. And without warning Sol snapped his hips back and slammed back into you, causing you to yelp. He couldn’t resist himself as he began to roughly fuck you. His fingernails digging into the soft skin of your thighs and quiet moans left him. He stayed quiet because he wanted to hear your sweet sounds.

He watched the face you made as every single time he hit that sweet spot of your pussy. The way your lips parted as you moaned his name and the how your back arched as he fucked you. The way your breasts bounced up and down with each thrust. He noticed the creamy white ring forming on the base of his cock. You felt so perfect, it was as if..”We were made for each other, ______.” He whispered. Sol let go your thighs, confident that you’d keep your legs spread out. He now cupped your breasts, fingertips lightly teasing your perked nipples as he watched you shudder under his touch.

Sol frowned, “Something’s missing.” He said in between pants as he continued to relentlessly fuck you. His pace was not slowing down at all, you were exhausted already, your pussy ached from how hard he was slamming into you. You weren’t sure you’d even be able to walk in the morning. “W-what?” You asked confused by what he meant but he didn’t answer you, instead leaned down to bite your neck. You cried out in surprise. He actually bit you. He nipped and sucked at the sensitive skin on your neck, not caring if he hurt you. After all, everyone needed to know you were his.

Your hands tangled in his hair as you squeezed your eyes shut, tears now running down your face. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he slipped one hand between your thighs. You body twitched when you felt the pad of thumb rub your clit, all the while he never stopped fucking and marking you. He let out a low laugh when he felt your body twitch underneath him.

Sol could tell you were close to coming, by how your breathing became more erratic, how you held him closer. “Are you going to cum for me, dear?” He asked. You didn’t say anything, which annoyed the dark haired man. He sat up, ripping himself from your grasp and stopped rubbing circles against your sensitive clit. “You need to answer me.” He growled and just to emphasize the point, he pulled nearly all the way out before he snapped his hips forward. You cried loudly, biting your lip and nodding eagerly, “Y-yes. I wanna cum for you, Sol.” You whimpered, looking up at him with the cutest expression.

Sol smiled lovingly at you, satisfied with your answer, “You’re so cute when you beg, dear.” He spoke gently and with that he returned to stimulating your clit. Your mind was hazy as you felt your orgasm building up, you were only focused on one thing and that was coming. Your hands reached up to dig their fingernails in the skin of his bicep. “You’re so close. I can tell. Just cum for me. Please. I want to feel it so bad.” Sol begged in a whiny, desperate tone as he quickened his pace. And just like that you practically screamed his name, your body shaking as you came around his cock.

You orgasming and screaming his name was the most beautiful thing Sol had ever witnessed. He had dreamt of this moment for so long, it was better than he could ever imagine. He felt your pussy tighten around him and soon after he was coming too. Sol threw his head back as his dick twitched, coating your insides with thick cum. He was buried deep inside you, holding your thighs firmly so he could adequately fill you up. “You’re so beautiful. So pretty, full of my cum.” He mumbled, gazing down at you now.

Sol gently pushed your legs apart as he pulled out of you and watched in awe as his cum leaked out of your tight pussy. It was a heavenly sight. He sighed in satisfaction, flopping down onto the bed as he wrapped his arms around your tired body, pulling you onto his chest. You buried your face into the crook of his neck as you clung into him tightly. “No one will ever make you feel this good, dear. You were made for me. We’re soulmates.” Sol said barely above a whisper as he gazed at the white ceiling. “You’re mine. I won’t ever let anyone come between us. Ever. I love you so much, ______.” He said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. His embrace tightening around you when he said that.

There was something threatening about the way Sol spoke. You were a bit scared, but you had no reason to be, right? He just loved you and you loved him. “I love you, Sol.” You sniffled. Sol just smiled at your words. He finally had you all to himself.

[shaiyasstuff]

through the fire | sylus

synopsis : In a world where soulmate marks appear on your skin, yours arrives in red—the color of unrequited love. And the name written there is the last one you ever wanted to see: Zayne.

content : soulmate!au, unrequited love, angst

You stared at the name scrawled in red across your forearm.

Zayne.

So small. So cruel. So final.

Your breath caught in your throat, a trembling whisper slipping past your lips.

“Why is it his?”

The question barely made a sound, yet it rang loud in the silence of your apartment, echoing off the sterile white walls and the clinical smell of hospital-grade soap still lingering on your skin.

You pressed your palm over the name like you could smudge it away.

But red ink never fades. It brands.

It condemns.

A red soulmate mark.

You had seen the pamphlets before—those rare anomalies that happen once in a few hundred thousand people.

The ones born defective, the ones whose soulmates were already claimed by someone else.

Fated to ache. Fated to long. Fated to never be loved back.

You always thought it was tragic in a distant, abstract sort of way.

Until now.

Until it was his name.

Until it was Zayne.

Your Zayne.

Your friend. Your colleague.

The man who offered you coffee the day you transferred, when everyone else couldn’t be bothered to remember your name.

The one who knew when your hands shook after a 12-hour surgery and would silently leave your favorite chocolate mousse in the breakroom fridge.

The one who walked you home after night shifts, even though his apartment was one floor above yours.

The one you tried not to love.

You tried.

God, you tried.

Because his mark had already appeared months ago—in black. Like it was supposed to. Permanent. True. Undeniable.

You remembered how he told you.

How he looked almost dazed, fingers brushing over his skin like he couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to find her.

You had smiled. You had said you were happy for him. You had even helped him pick out a gift for their anniversary.

And maybe you were happy.

A small, pure part of you had been.

But the rest of you was bleeding.

But you didn’t expect this.

You didn’t expect the universe to be so cruel.

Because months later, your body chose him.

As if fate wanted to mock you.

As if it wanted you to watch him belong to someone else, forever just one floor above you, one breath out of reach.

Red meant doomed.

Red meant defect.

Red meant you would love someone who was never yours to begin with.

Your fingers trembled as you traced over the ink again.

You imagined what it would feel like to show him.

To watch his face crumble, or worse—pity you. To be told, gently and with unbearable softness, that he loved someone else.

That his heart already belonged to the woman whose name was etched into his skin in perfect, black permanence.

You would never be that name.

You would never be enough.

So you rolled down your sleeve and turned away from the mirror.

The name still burned beneath the fabric.

And in the quiet of your room, you allowed yourself to break—silently, like you always did.

Because even the stars knew.

You were never meant to be loved.

Only to love.

—•

Day by day, you saw him.

In break rooms and bustling hallways, beside you during rounds, across you during late-night debriefs.

He was always there—smiling softly, offering you coffee in the way only he knew you liked it.

Asking about your day with that quiet warmth that made your chest ache.

He never noticed the way your fingers twitched when you took the cup.

Never saw how you always kept your sleeves pulled just a little too low.

Never questioned the stiffness in your smile.

It had been months.

You had become an expert at hiding the truth—an actress in your own life, wearing ease like armor.

You laughed when he teased you.

Teased him back when he tried to guess your soulmate’s identity.

“He probably doesn’t live around here,” you’d say with a light shrug, the same one you’d perfected in the mirror.

And he’d nod, gentle and non-intrusive, never the type to pry.

And maybe that made it worse.

That he was kind.

That he was always kind.

His soulmate didn’t make things any easier either.

She was bright, and sweet, and unbearably thoughtful. The kind of person you couldn’t bring yourself to hate, even if it would make surviving this easier.

She brought you takeout after long shifts, remembered your favorite boba order, got you a little potted plant for your birthday and left a sticky note on your locker that read, “For when life gets too sterile.”

Just like now.

You sit quietly at your desk, the hospital gone still with night, overhead lights buzzing low.

The sky outside is a deep, velvet black, rain tapping gently against the window.

She hums softly as she unpacks the sushi she brought, setting it out like you were her little sister she needed to fuss over.

“You need to eat properly,” she scolds, her voice warm, mothering.

You smile up at her, gratitude in your eyes.

You mean it. You really do.

Even as your wrist pulses beneath your sleeve—raw, restless, unbearably red.

Even as your soul screams a name it can never say aloud.

You thank her.

You eat.

And you pretend not to feel the burn.

“Any luck yet?” she asks gently, nodding toward your wrist as she takes a sip of water.

You follow her gaze, pulse ticking beneath the fabric, and force a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“No,” you say, voice light, practiced. “Maybe I’m just destined to be alone.”

A half-truth.

The kind that slips out easily when the full one is too cruel to name.

Because what could you say?

That the name on your wrist has been there for months?

That it burns with a devotion that will never be returned?

That it’s his name—her soulmate’s name—written in red?

That while she buys you dinner and worries over your health, your heart quietly bleeds for the man who kisses her forehead and saves his smiles for her?

So instead, you say nothing.

You stir the soy sauce into your rice and let the lie settle between you—gentle, unspoken, and unbearable.

She offers you a sympathetic smile, her voice soft with well-meaning hope.

“You’ll meet him someday.”

And there it is.

The ache.

Low and sharp, blooming beneath your ribs like something cruel and familiar.

You nod, because it’s easier than telling the truth.

Because she’s looking at you with such kindness, such sincerity—never realizing that her comfort is the wound.

She doesn’t know.

She can’t.

That you’ve already met him.

That he’s just down the hall, finishing up his reports, waiting to walk her home.

That the universe gave you a name and then watched you unravel.

So you smile again.

The kind that feels more like a wince.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Maybe.”

—•

“I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

She smiles, radiant and unaware, her arm wrapped easily around his as the two of you stand face to face.

Your mark flares beneath your sleeve, a slow, burning throb that pulls your eyes to where her hand rests—light, familiar, right—against his.

And Zayne—

He looks down at her like she hung the stars.

With that quiet kind of fondness that once lived in his gaze for you, before the universe chose to remind you of your place.

Before the mark.

Before everything changed.

He told you once, in passing, how they met.

At a park. A lost puppy.

He’d helped her look for it, stayed with her until it was found. Said it felt ordinary. Nothing sparked then.

Not until a week later, when her name bloomed black on his wrist.

You remember the way his voice softened when he said it.

“Shaiya.”

Like it meant something holy.

Like it made sense.

You had smiled back then too.

And you do it again now, a practiced expression, polished by months of pretending.

“Yeah,” you say, voice steady. “See you.”

She waves, content.

Zayne glances at you, just for a second—just long enough for your heart to betray you.

Then they turn.

And you’re left behind.

As always.

Your mark burns again as you watch them walk away—slow, steady, inseparable.

It always flares like this when you start to ache for him.

When you let yourself want him, even for a moment.

As if fate itself is reprimanding you.

As if the pain is a reminder: You were never meant to be his.

Just a defect. A flaw in the system.

But you ignore it.

You’ve learned how to live with fire under your skin.

Instead, you cling to the memories—the ones that feel softer in hindsight, even if they hurt now.

“I hope your name appears on my wrist someday,” he’d said once, offhandedly, turning his head to glance at you with a quiet smile.

You had laughed, heart skipping despite yourself.

“If I was your soulmate, you’d probably end up with a headache from dealing with me.”

It was meant as a joke. Lighthearted.

But now—

Now, it tastes like irony.

Because it did appear.

Your name did show up.

Just not where it was supposed to.

Not on him.

—•

You didn’t quite know how you ended up here.

Maybe it was the silence of your apartment. Maybe it was the way your wrist still throbbed beneath your sleeve like a wound that wouldn’t close.

Or maybe—just maybe—you were tired of pretending you were okay.

So you found yourself in a dimly lit pub, the kind where no one asked questions and the music was low enough to disappear into.

You sat near the bar, shoulders hunched in a way you hadn’t noticed until your reflection caught you in the mirror.

One hand wrapped loosely around a glass of whiskey, the other idly pushing ice cubes in lazy circles.

“Here’s to unrequited love,” you mutter to no one, raising your glass like a toast to the cruel stars above.

You take a slow sip. Let the burn settle in your throat. Let yourself feel it—just for tonight.

Then—

A scent. Sharp. Clean.

Masculine and strangely grounding, like rain on stone.

It hits you all at once.

And before you can turn, an arm slides across the bar beside you—unhurried, confident.

He settles into the stool next to yours like it was always meant to be his.

You catch a glimpse.

White—no, silver—hair catches the low light. Almost too perfect. Almost otherworldly.

“Gin. On the rocks,” he says, voice low and smooth, like smoke rolling over velvet.

You glance at him, just for a moment.

And somehow, you felt drawn.

You let your gaze drift to the stranger beside you, curiosity outweighing caution.

He was striking in a way that demanded attention—dangerous, almost.

Red eyes, sharp and unflinching, stared ahead with the kind of focus that made the world seem like background noise to him.

His hair was a mess of white-silver strands, tousled and unruly, falling just above his brows like they had been kissed by moonlight.

And his mouth—curved in an easy, knowing smirk—looked as though it had never forgotten how to charm.

As if he was always just about to say something wicked.

There was an ease in the way he occupied the space, like he wasn’t merely sitting at the bar—but claiming it.

You stared a beat too long.

And then—

A sharp sting.

Your mark flared beneath your sleeve, searing hot.

You flinched, barely, teeth gritting as the pain sliced through the moment like glass.

Of course.

Even now—even with someone like him sitting beside you—the universe couldn’t let you forget.

You were still branded.

Still trapped.

Still hopelessly tethered to someone who would never be yours.

And the burn beneath your skin felt like fate laughing.

You cursed under your breath, the word slipping out low and bitter as the sting pulsed through your wrist like a cruel reminder.

You took another sip, letting the whiskey scorch its way down, hoping it would dull something—anything.

It didn’t.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him shift.

The stranger turned his head slightly, just enough for those crimson eyes to find you.

There was something unreadable in his gaze—sharp, deliberate.

Not surprised. Not amused.

Just… intrigued.

“Rough night?” he asked, voice low and laced with dry amusement.

You didn’t answer right away.

Just stared into your glass, watching the ice crack quietly beneath the amber.

“Something like that,” you muttered, not looking at him.

But he didn’t look away.

And somehow, you felt seen.

Not pitied. Not judged. Just… noticed.

Like maybe, for the first time in a long while, someone wasn’t looking through you.

He chuckles, a low, rough sound that wraps around the edges of your exhaustion like velvet trimmed in iron.

“Same here,” he murmurs, raising his glass in a mock salute before taking a slow sip of his gin.

There’s a beat of silence.

Then—“I’m Sylus,” he says, turning slightly to face you now.

There’s something in the way he says it—easy, but deliberate. Like his name is a secret he only offers to a select few. Like he’s giving you a choice. To take it or don’t.

You glance at him again.

That silver hair, those red eyes. The quiet confidence that radiates off him in waves.

He doesn’t ask for your name.

He just waits.

And for reasons you don’t fully understand, you give it.

“Y/N,” you say quietly, your voice barely above the clink of glass and the murmur of conversations behind you.

Sylus nods, as if the name fits. As if he already knew.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he says, and somehow, it doesn’t feel empty.

Somehow, it feels like the night has started over.

You blink slowly, eyes fixed on the amber swirl in your glass.

“All my nights are rough,” you murmur, your lips curving into a tired, self-deprecating smile. “Not just this one.”

You take another sip, let the warmth settle into your bones like armor.

Beside you, Sylus raises a brow—curious, maybe, but respectful. He doesn’t ask. Doesn’t press.

And somehow, that’s more comforting than if he had.

So you both sit there, shoulder to shoulder, in a silence that feels oddly natural.

Not forced. Not heavy.

Just… there.

The sting on your wrist begins to fade, slowly—like a held breath finally exhaled.

Maybe it’s the alcohol.

Maybe it’s his presence.

Maybe it’s just that for once, you don’t feel so unbearably alone.

A sudden courage bubbles up—liquid and reckless.

You keep your eyes forward, voice casual.

“What do you think of people with red marks?”

You feel him glance your way.

There’s a pause. Barely a second. But in it, something passes—something unsaid.

He seems a little surprised by the question, but his expression remains unchanged. Calm. Measured.

“I wouldn’t know,” he says after a sip of his gin. “Mine’s never shown.”

He shrugs like it means nothing. Like fate hasn’t touched him at all.

And somehow, you envy that.

“Good for you,” you say, a little too flat, a little too bitter around the edges.

A beat of silence follows.

Then—a chuckle, low and quiet, rumbles from his chest.

Not mocking. Not cruel.

Just… amused.

Knowing.

“Interesting,” is all he says.

The word lingers between you, heavier than it should be.

Like he’s already pieced something together. Like he sees more than you intended to show.

You don’t look at him, but you feel his presence beside you—steady, unbothered.

As if your pain isn’t a burden here.

As if your broken pieces don’t make you harder to hold, only more worth noticing.

And for the first time in a long time, your chest doesn’t feel so tight.

He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a small piece of paper and a pen—moves smooth, unhurried.

You watch as he scribbles something down, his handwriting sharp and elegant, like everything about him.

Then he slides it across the bar toward you, the paper curling slightly at the corners as it stops in front of your glass.

He doesn’t look at you right away—just takes another sip of his gin, eyes still trained on the bottles lined across the shelves.

“I am fully aware of stranger danger,” he drawls, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, “but do call if you need… company.”

His voice lingers on the last word, smoky and deliberate.

Not suggestive.

Not empty.

Just a quiet offering from one broken night to another.

You glance down at the number.

It looks oddly out of place between your fingers—this small, absurd lifeline.

But it’s there.

And so is he.

You give a small, tired smile, the kind that doesn’t reach your eyes but feels a little more genuine than the others tonight.

“Maybe I will,” you say, tucking the slip of paper between your fingers like a secret.

He doesn’t respond, but there’s a glint in his crimson eyes as he raises his glass, as if to toast to unspoken things.

To bruised hearts.

To broken fates.

To strangers who feel a little less like strangers.

You both drink in silence after that, letting the night bleed slow and quiet around you.

No questions. No confessions.

Just the comfort of existing beside someone who doesn’t ask you to pretend.

When you finally step back into your apartment, the stillness greets you like an old friend.

Familiar. Too familiar.

You loosen your coat, kick off your shoes, and sit at the edge of your bed, the quiet pressing in.

The mark on your wrist is calm now—dormant, for once.

You pull the slip of paper from your pocket, smoothing the crease with your thumb.

Sylus.

You murmur the name to yourself, letting it linger in the dark.

As if, maybe this time, fate might finally listen.

—•

You sigh, long and weary, as you sink into your desk chair.

Every part of you aches—your back, your hands, your mind.

Eight hours in the operating room, eight hours of focus and tension and the weight of someone else’s life resting in your palms.

You close your eyes for a moment, letting the silence wrap around you.

Then—

A knock at the door.

Soft. Familiar.

Before you can even answer, it opens just enough to let him in.

Zayne.

His dark hair falls slightly into his hazel-green eyes, coat still dusted with rain from outside.

He walks in with quiet purpose, holding out a paper cup—your usual coffee order, still warm.

“Long day?” he asks, voice calm and steady, like always.

Your chest tightens.

And then it comes—the burn.

That same, awful heat radiating from your wrist, seeping into your bones.

You clench your jaw, forcing a tired smile as you take the cup from him.

“Thanks,” you murmur, hoping your fingers don’t brush too long against his.

He doesn’t notice the wince you try to hide.

Doesn’t see how tightly you’re holding your sleeve.

Because to him, it’s just kindness.

To you, it’s agony.

You both sit in silence, the kind that would feel companionable if it didn’t ache so much.

The coffee sits warm between your hands, grounding you in the moment—keeping you from unraveling.

Then he speaks.

“I saw you out two nights ago.”

His tone is casual, but there’s something underneath it—curiosity, maybe. Concern, even.

You glance at him.

He doesn’t look at you. Just takes a sip from his own cup, as if the words don’t mean much.

“Were you drinking again?”

You pause, fingers tightening slightly around the paper cup.

The truth sits heavy on your tongue, bitter and unspoken.

You look down at your wrist, still hidden beneath your sleeve, the phantom sting of the mark pulsing like a second heartbeat.

So many things you could say.

Yes. Because pretending I’m fine all the time is exhausting.

Because I watched you walk away with her again and smiled like it didn’t kill me.

Because my mark won’t stop burning, and I don’t know how to live with this kind of love.

But instead, you offer a small shrug.

“Just needed some air,” you say quietly. “That’s all.”

A lie.

But it’s one he won’t press.

Because he trusts you.

Because he doesn’t know.

He gives you that small, familiar smile—the one that always undoes you more than it should.

“Don’t overwork yourself,” he says softly, like it’s second nature to worry about you.

Then he turns, footsteps fading down the hallway, leaving you with the smell of coffee, the echo of his voice, and the quiet devastation he’ll never see.

Your fingers curl around the cup.

Tight. Too tight.

As if holding on to something will keep you from breaking.

But your mark burns hotter now, searing through your skin like punishment.

As if it’s angry.

As if it’s jealous.

And for a moment, you wonder why it hasn’t bled.

Why it doesn’t just split open and spill all this hurt onto the floor where everyone can finally see it.

“Stop being so kind to me,” you whisper into the silence, your voice shaking.

But there’s no one left to hear it.

Only the sterile hum of the lights overhead, and the sound of your heart breaking—quiet and familiar—as tears trace down your cheeks, uninvited and unstoppable.

Somehow, without really thinking, you found yourself at his doorstep.

The city was quiet, the air cool against your cheeks, your coat clutched tight around you like it could hold the pieces of you together.

Your wrist still ached beneath your sleeve, raw and restless, but you had long since stopped trying to soothe it.

Sylus had texted you the address after your call—short, clipped, and straightforward, like him.

And now you’re here, standing in front of a door you never expected to seek out, uncertain of what you’re hoping to find on the other side.

Healing?

Distraction?

A place where your mark doesn’t matter?

You raise your hand to knock, hesitating for a moment as your breath fogs in the cold.

Then, before you can lose the nerve, your knuckles meet wood.

One. Two. Three quiet raps.

A pause.

Then the door clicks open.

And there he is—Sylus.

Silver hair a little messier than usual, a glass still in his hand, red eyes sharp but softer than you’ve ever seen them.

No questions. No judgment.

—•

He didn’t say a word.

Just nodded once, slow and understanding, and led you inside.

Now, the two of you sit on opposite ends of his worn leather couch, a respectful distance apart, the fire crackling gently between you like a heartbeat neither of you wants to claim.

The room is dim, shadows dancing along the walls, the only light coming from the flicker of flames and the occasional glint in Sylus’s eyes when he turns his head slightly to look at you—then away again.

You’re still.

Tired.

The kind of tired that no sleep could ever fix.

The tears have long since dried, leaving behind the familiar hollow ache in your chest, like grief carved a space in your ribs and decided to stay.

And your mark—

Still there.

Still burning beneath your skin.

You stare into the fire, your hands loosely clasped in your lap, and for the first time in days, you breathe—slow, deep, and unguarded.

Sylus doesn’t speak.

Doesn’t pry.

He just sits there, presence steady, like a wall you can finally lean against without fear of collapsing.

And in that silence, something shifts.

Not healed. Not whole.

But a little less alone.

You turn your head slightly, eyes drifting from the fire to him. His profile is lit in warm gold—sharp, unreadable, but not unkind.

“Sorry,” you say softly, the word catching at the edges of your throat.

For what exactly, you’re not sure.

For showing up. For falling apart.

For being the kind of person who calls a near-stranger because no one else feels safe anymore.

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t turn to look at you.

Just gives a small shrug and takes a slow sip from his glass.

“It’s good company,” he replies, casual, like it’s nothing.

Like you aren’t a burden.

Like this—the silence, the ache, the weight of everything you can’t say—is somehow welcome.

You exhale quietly, some small part of your heart unclenching.

Maybe that’s what you needed.

Not comfort. Not words.

Just someone who doesn’t mind the quiet, even when it’s heavy.

“I can understand.”

His voice breaks the stillness, low and quiet—almost like an afterthought, but it sinks deep.

Your eyes dart to him.

Sylus is still facing the fire, his expression unreadable, the flames dancing across the sharp lines of his face.

“I love someone,” he says, slowly, deliberately. “But her name isn’t on my wrist.”

He takes a sip of his drink, his fingers steady around the glass.

“There’s another name on hers.”

The words hang in the air like smoke—soft, but heavy with weight.

And suddenly, you understand why his silence felt so familiar. Why he never asked questions. Why he didn’t flinch at your pain.

Because he knows.

He knows what it’s like to love without being chosen.

To look at someone and see a future they’ll never see with you.

To exist in the quiet spaces between their laughter—wanted, but not meant.

You swallow hard, the ache in your chest mirroring his.

Your voice is barely a whisper.

“Does she know?”

A pause.

“No,” he murmurs. “And I’m not sure I want her to.”

And for a moment, you’re not two strangers on a couch.

You’re two people clinging to the same kind of hurt.

And somehow, that makes it just a little easier to breathe.

“How does it work?” you ask, barely above a whisper.

Your eyes stay fixed on the fire, but your voice trembles with something deeper—something raw.

“Love. How does it work?”

There’s a pause.

Sylus doesn’t answer right away. He sets his glass down on the table, the faint clink of glass on wood echoing in the quiet.

You finally glance at him.

He’s staring into the flames, brows drawn slightly, as if the question has rooted itself somewhere inside him.

“I don’t think it does,” he says at last, voice low and unfiltered. “Not the way we’re told it should.”

His gaze flicks to you, slow and steady.

“Everyone talks about fate. About destiny. About names on skin and inevitability.”

He leans back, resting an arm on the back of the couch, red eyes glinting.

“But love—it’s messy. It’s inconvenient. It doesn’t follow rules or timing or marks.”

You swallow, something stirring painfully in your chest.

“Then why does it still hurt this much?” you whisper.

He looks at you for a long moment. Not with pity, but with understanding so deep it feels like a balm.

“Because you love honestly,” he says. “And honest love never goes unpunished.”

“I just want it to stop burning,” you whisper, the words escaping before you can take them back.

You’re not looking at him—your gaze stays fixed on the fire, on the flicker and hiss of flame. It’s easier than meeting his eyes.

“It’s not the unrequited part,” you continue, voice low and frayed at the edges. “I always knew it would be like this. I never expected anything more from him.”

You inhale shakily, pressing your hands tighter around your knees as if that could steady the tremble in your chest.

“But the mark—it burns every time I think of him. Every time I miss him, want him, remember him.”

The heat isn’t just under your skin. It’s inside your lungs, your throat, your heart.

A fire that reminds you with every spark that your love is a mistake written in red.

“I just want it to stop hurting every time I feel something.”

A quiet hush follows, broken only by the crackling of the fire.

Then, Sylus speaks. His voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it.

“Love shouldn’t feel like a wound,” he says.

You glance at him. And for once, there’s no teasing in his expression. No smirk, no defense. Just something quiet. Something honest.

“And yet,” you murmur, “it always does.”

He doesn’t offer easy comfort. Doesn’t pretend to have answers.

Instead, he leans back, watching the flames for a moment.

“Maybe,” he says slowly, “the pain won’t go away completely. But it can dull. If you let someone help carry it.”

Your chest tightens, but this time, it’s not from the burn.

It’s from the way he says it. Like he means it.

Like he would.

He steps toward you—unhurried, deliberate. The firelight flickers across his face, catching the sharp lines of his jaw, the glint in his crimson eyes.

“I may not know you,” he says slowly, voice low and steady, “but I know your pain.”

His words settle over you like a weighted blanket—not too heavy, not too light. Just enough to be felt.

Then—

He extends a hand.

Open.

Unassuming.

Offered without expectation.

Not to fix you.

Not to save you.

Just to stand with you in the wreckage.

You stare at it for a moment, your breath caught between resistance and the aching need for something—someone—to anchor you.

And somehow, in the quiet of that moment, it doesn’t matter that he’s a stranger.

Because pain recognizes pain.

And for the first time in a long while… you don’t feel alone in it.

You hesitate—just for a breath—then slip your hand into his.

His grip is firm, warm, steady.

He pulls you gently to your feet, the motion smooth, careful, as though you might break if he moved too fast.

And then—

The mark flares.

A sharp, scalding pain radiates up your arm, and you flinch, breath hitching as the heat sinks into your bones like fire licking at old wounds.

But before you can pull away, his arms are around you. Solid. Certain. Anchoring.

“Let it burn for a bit,” he murmurs, voice close, low, and rough with something almost tender.

Then he guides your head to his chest, where his heartbeat drums slow and steady beneath your ear.

No rush. No pressure. Just presence.

And in that quiet, flickering room—with the fire crackling, your heart aching, and his arms holding you like a promise—

you let it burn.

—•

“Y/N? Are you listening?”

The sharp snap of fingers in front of your face jolts you back to the present.

You blink, startled, eyes locking onto Shaiya’s concerned expression across the table. Her brows are slightly furrowed, lips tugged into a gentle frown.

You’d drifted again.

Your thoughts had wandered—slipped away from her words, from the crowded café, from the clatter of cups and the warmth of the sun spilling through the window.

You were thinking about him.

About Sylus.

About how his arms had felt around you.

How steady his heartbeat was.

How you let yourself lean in, even when the mark warmed beneath your skin like a quiet warning.

“Sorry,” you murmur, straightening in your seat. “I was… thinking.”

Shaiya softens, letting out a small sigh as she reaches for her drink.

“You’ve been spacing out a lot lately,” she says gently, not accusing—just noticing.

You force a small smile, fingers curling around your mug to hide the slight tremble.

If only she knew who you were thinking of.

And how much it wasn’t her soulmate.

“Just… soulmate,” you blurt, the word tumbling out before you can catch it.

Your heart stutters in your chest the moment you say it, the regret immediate and sharp.

Shaiya’s face lights up, eyes wide with surprise and sudden excitement.

Her hands nearly drop her fork, and she leans in, voice hushed but eager.

“Did you find him?” she asks, a hopeful smile blooming across her face.

You freeze.

There’s a second—a split, breathless second—where the truth rises in your throat like a wave.

That yes, you found him.

That it’s not a matter of who, but how painful it’s been.

That his name is carved in red into your skin.

And that her name is written on his.

But you don’t say any of that.

You just force a smile, one you hope doesn’t look too broken at the edges.

“Not exactly,” you say softly. “It’s complicated.”

How do you explain being loved—held—by someone who might be more than a stranger… but isn’t quite fate?

Suddenly, an arm wraps around your shoulders—casual, confident—and your breath catches in your throat.

The scent hits you first. That same sharp, clean cologne.

Then the warmth.

Then the voice.

“Why don’t you just tell her you did?” he drawls, low and unbothered, his tone laced with a kind of amused defiance that only he could make sound like an invitation.

Your heart stumbles.

You turn your head slowly and catch the now-familiar glint of white hair falling just over crimson eyes that look too pleased with themselves for someone who walked into your unraveling.

Sylus.

Of course it’s him.

You’re frozen, stunned, as your mark flares beneath your sleeve—burning a little brighter, a little wilder, as if it recognizes the chaos he’s just dropped into.

Shaiya’s eyes widen as she looks between the two of you.

“Oh,” she breathes, lips parting in surprise. “Is this…?”

And still, Sylus doesn’t move his arm.

He just smirks.

And you—

You can’t decide if you want to run, scream, or lean into him and let the world burn.

Sylus doesn’t miss a beat.

He gives a small, deliberate nod, his expression unreadable but his voice smooth as silk.

“Yes,” he says calmly. “I’m Y/N’s soulmate.”

The words land like a strike of lightning.

Shaiya freezes, her eyes wide, mouth parting in shock as she looks at him—then to you—then back again, like her mind is trying to catch up with the reality laid out in front of her.

You feel the burn instantly—sharp, searing, a violent protest beneath your skin.

Your mark is screaming.

But you smile anyway.

You lie through the pain like you’ve always done.

With practiced ease, you reach for Sylus’s arm, pulling him down to sit beside you.

His body is warm beside yours, grounding and steady in a way that only makes the burn worse.

“Yeah,” you say, your voice soft, your lips curled into a sheepish smile. “We’ve been… keeping it quiet.”

Shaiya blinks, still stunned, still searching your face for some confirmation that she hasn’t stepped into a dream.

You glance at Sylus, who is already watching you with something unreadable in his gaze.

And all you can do is smile.

Even as your wrist burns like a brand.

Even as your heart threatens to give out beneath the weight of the lie.

Because in this moment—right here, right now—you just wanted to be chosen, even if it was a lie.

“Oh, that’s great! How did you guys meet?” Shaiya beams, already clutching your hands in excitement.

You glance toward Sylus, your heart a tangled mess of gratitude and quiet devastation.

He smirks faintly, unbothered.

“At a bar,” he says smoothly. “She toasted to unrequited love.”

You laugh softly, a breath too close to breaking.

“Yeah,” you say, eyes on him. “And he didn’t walk away.”

Shaiya claps her hands, practically glowing.

“Oh, I have to tell Zayne!” she exclaims, already pulling out her phone.

Your breath catches.

You stare at her, helpless, your pulse thudding in your ears.

There’s a flicker of panic—of heartbreak—just beneath the surface.

And then you feel it.

Sylus’s hand, warm and steady, closing over yours.

Silent. Certain. There.

You glance at him, and he doesn’t say anything—just holds your gaze, letting you borrow his strength.

So you smile.

Small. Fragile.

But real.

Even as the pain coils in your chest and your mark burns beneath your sleeve like a wound that won’t heal.

After the café, Shaiya darted off, excitement practically radiating from her as she called over her shoulder about celebrating soon.

You could only wave, sheepishly, watching her disappear into the crowd.

Beside you, Sylus chuckled, that familiar, low sound that always managed to cut through your thoughts.

You turned to him, brows furrowed, voice soft.

“Why?”

He glanced down at you, completely unfazed, and shrugged.

“Would you rather people think you were lonely for the rest of your life?” he asked, smirking. “Because you were giving off tragic energy.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the small, reluctant smile tugging at your lips.

—•

A week passed.

And somehow, Sylus was everywhere.

In the hospital lobby, leaning against walls like he belonged there.

In the café line beside you, pretending it was coincidence.

On your lunch break, slipping you your favorite pastry like it was nothing.

You didn’t complain.

Even when your mark burned with every glance, every word, every moment spent too close.

Because his presence—while painful—was constant. Steady. Like a shield between you and everything else you couldn’t bear to face alone.

Now, you were in your office, signing off reports, when the door creaked open.

Zayne.

You looked up, startled, your eyes meeting his. His expression was unreadable, but there was something there—something frayed at the edges.

Conflicted.

Still, for the first time in what felt like forever, you smiled at him.

Your mark responded immediately, pulsing beneath your sleeve.

“I heard from Shaiya,” he said, voice calm, measured. “You finally found him?”

You nodded, sheepish. “Yeah.”

He opens his mouth—stops. Looks at you.

“That’s… good,” he finishes, but it lands flat. Like he meant something else. Like he almost said it.

You ask, carefully, “Is everything okay?”

He nods. Smiles. Too polite.

“Yes. I’m just… glad.”

And as he turns to leave, your mark pulses—not from yearning this time, but from something worse, realization.

You’re left in the quiet hum of your office, with the sting of your mark flaring and a new ache settling deep in your chest.

Because this time, it wasn’t just unrequited.

It was almost.

Sylus enters not long after, silent as ever.

The room doesn’t announce him—he simply is, like a shadow slipping into light.

His eyes find you instantly.

You expect the usual smirk, the dry remark perched on his lips.

But instead—

He just looks at you.

And something in his expression softens.

Like all the sharp edges of him have momentarily dulled.

Like seeing you—tired, unraveling, still trying to hold it together—matters.

He doesn’t say a word.

He doesn’t need to.

“Why was he looking at me like that?” you ask, your voice cracking under the weight of it.

The question isn’t really for Sylus, but he hears it anyway.

It slips out before you can stop it—raw, unguarded, aching.

You’re not sure what hurts more.

The look in Zayne’s eyes, or the fact that it came too late.

Too late, when you’d already chosen to pretend.

Too late, when someone else had stepped in to hold you through the burn.

Sylus doesn’t answer right away.

He just steps closer, his gaze steady—never pitying.

“Because,” he says softly, “he’s starting to see what he never let himself feel.”

And the worst part is… you’re not sure that changes anything.

“That’s worse,” you whisper, the words breaking as they leave you. “That means he knew.”

The realization crashes over you like a wave—sharp, cold, merciless.

All this time.

All those quiet moments.

All the silence between your smiles.

He knew—and still chose someone else.

The first tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it, then another, and suddenly you’re unraveling—slow, quiet, but completely.

And without a second’s hesitation, Sylus is beside you.

No questions. No hesitation.

Just arms around you, solid and warm, pulling you into him like he’s done this before—like he knows this pain.

You bury your face in his chest as the sobs come, muffled and broken, and he holds you tighter.

One hand in your hair, the other against your back, grounding you.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs.

And for once, you believe it.

You look up at him, eyes glassy, voice trembling.

“That means he had a choice,” you whisper. “That the soulmate mark… meant nothing.”

The words feel heavy in your mouth, bitter and raw.

Because if Zayne knew—if he saw your love and still turned away—then the mark wasn’t fate.

It was just a cruel joke.

Something to cling to while he chose someone else.

Sylus holds your gaze, his own expression unreadable for a moment—quiet, intense.

Then he speaks, voice low and steady.

“It means the mark doesn’t make the choice. We do.”

He brushes a tear from your cheek with his thumb, gentle in a way that undoes you.

“And he didn’t choose you,” he adds, soft but honest.

“But I would.”

You choke on a breath, barely able to speak past the lump in your throat.

“But you… you don’t have a mark. Not yet.”

Your voice wavers, caught between disbelief and something dangerously close to hope.

Sylus doesn’t flinch.

Instead, a faint smirk tugs at the corner of his lips—wry, almost sad.

“I had mine removed,” he says, like it’s nothing. Like it didn’t once cost him something.

“Years ago.”

You blink, stunned. “Why?”

His gaze lingers on you, softer now.

“Because I didn’t want fate to decide who I could love.”

Then, quieter—just for you:

“I wanted the choice to be mine.”

“Then… the girl,” you murmur, barely above a breath. “The one you loved…”

Your voice falters, unsure if you want to know the rest. But the question hangs there between you, fragile and trembling.

Sylus’s eyes dim slightly, the usual spark giving way to something quieter—something older.

“She never chose me,” he says, his voice low, steady. “Even before the mark showed up, I think I knew.”

He exhales through his nose, gaze drifting somewhere distant.

“And when it finally appeared,” he continues, “I already made a choice.”

The silence that follows is heavy, but not suffocating.

You feel it—the familiar sting of being almost enough.

And as he looks back at you, something in your chest eases.

Not because the pain is gone.

But because he understands.

You wanted to feel happy.

Wanted to let Sylus’s words wrap around you, ease the ache, soften the hollow in your chest.

But the mark burned—sharp and relentless—like it knew you were trying to let go.

Like it refused to be ignored.

A cruel reminder that no matter how gently Sylus held you, no matter how steady his presence or how kind his eyes—

your heart still belonged somewhere else.

To someone who never asked for it.

And never wanted it.

And that was the worst part.

Because for once, someone was choosing you.

And still, some part of you couldn’t stop choosing him.

Sylus watched you quietly, his gaze lingering not on your tears, not on your mark, but on you—the part of you that still hadn’t healed.

He saw the way your fingers twitched, the way your eyes dropped to the floor like you were ashamed of your own heart.

And then, softly—gently—he spoke.

“I know,” he said. “You don’t have to choose me now.”

No pressure. No expectation.

Just understanding.

Because he knew what it was like to love someone who couldn’t let go of someone else.

And still, he stayed.

Not to replace. Not to compete.

But simply to be there.

You didn’t say anything.

You just leaned into him.

And Sylus opened his arms without a word, holding you like he’d been waiting—like he knew you would break again, and he’d already decided he’d be the one to catch you.

You let yourself cry.

Not the quiet, hidden kind, but the raw, aching sobs that shook your shoulders and spilled everything you’d been trying to bury.

He didn’t flinch.

He didn’t pull away.

He just held you.

Steady. Solid. Safe.

And in his arms, for the first time in a long while, you let yourself feel it all.

—•

You stared up at the white ceiling, its endless blankness strangely comforting.

Sterile. Still. Silent.

The soft, steady beep of the machine beside you was the only sound in the room, each pulse reminding you that time was still moving forward, even if part of you hadn’t caught up yet.

It had been three months.

Three months since you stood in front of Zayne and smiled through your breaking heart.

Three months since Sylus stepped into your life with his sharp words and soft hands and gave you something you didn’t know you needed—space to fall apart.

Three months since everything changed.

And Sylus never left.

Not once.

He stayed through the confusion, through the aching nights when you couldn’t sleep and the mornings when the mark burned so violently you thought it might consume you.

He was there when you made the decision—tired, trembling—to pack your things and leave it all behind.

Zayne.

The hospital that held too many memories.

The city that never stopped reminding you of what you couldn’t have.

You moved somewhere quieter.

Somewhere you could breathe.

And now you were here—lying on a padded bed in a clean, white room, moments away from erasing the mark that had defined you for far too long.

You weren’t doing it to forget him.

You weren’t doing it out of spite.

You were doing it to reclaim your skin.

To stop punishing yourself for loving too much.

To stop letting fate write a story you never agreed to.

There was fear, yes—lingering at the edges of your thoughts like a shadow.

But there was peace, too.

Because this time, the choice was yours.

And just beyond the clinic door, waiting in the hallway like he always did, was Sylus.

Waiting—not to save you.

Just to be there when you returned. Whole. Scarred. Free.

The procedure wasn’t just to erase ink from your skin.

It was to quiet the fire.

To silence the part of you that still, after everything, ached for Zayne.

The part that stirred when you heard his voice in a memory, that still wondered what if, even when you knew the answer.

At first, you were afraid.

Afraid of what you’d lose.

Afraid that without the burn, without the mark, you might feel nothing—or worse, that the emptiness would linger.

But then you thought of him.

Of Sylus.

Of how he stayed when he had every reason not to.

Of the way he never asked you to love him, only to let him stand beside you.

And somehow, that gave you strength.

You closed your eyes, letting out a slow, shaking breath as the doctors moved around you.

The bed shifted beneath you as they began to wheel you away, the lights overhead passing in soft, distant flickers.

You didn’t cry.

You didn’t look back.

But just before you crossed into the next room, you whispered it—soft, steady, final.

“Goodbye, Zayne.”

And this time, you meant it.

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