#as always reblogs and feedback are appreciated:)

[ja3yun]

Devil's Corner || S.JY

racer!jaeyun x rival's sister!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, oral (f.rec), food play - lollipops, exhibitionism (kinda), terribly described racing scenes, mentions of past trauma, anything else lmk! wc: 18k synopsis: jaeyun goes by a lot of names - leader of the lucifers, your brother's biggest rival, the number one racer in the south&west, and your non-boyfriend. on his birthday, you go to the grit track to wish him luck, not knowing your relationship is going to change forever. a/n: hi! i am not officially back, i'm still taking a break but it would be so wrong of me to miss the loml's birthday (although i'm early) <33 this isn't exactly how i wanted this to turn out so i'm sorry if it's shit 😮‍💨 anyway, i'll be back soon hopefully bc it's almost my one year anniversary. comments/feedback/reblogs are all appreciated and i love you all so much! happy jake day when it comes <3

“You know I can’t be here, Ireh,” you say, casting a wary glance around. “If Yeonjun sees me, he’ll lose his mind.”

“Will you just relax for like half a minute, please?” Ireh sighs, her voice tinged with lighthearted frustration as she tugs you closer to the grit track, the sound of revving engines growing closer. “He’s probably busy preparing for the race. You know how seriously he takes this.”

You dig your heels into the ground, stopping both of you in your tracks. “Girl, please be serious. We’re practically on the track! He could spot me in a heartbeat.”

Avoiding your older brother isn’t really in your nature; you’ve always been inseparable. You and Yeonjun are like two cubes of ice that no matter how much you whack them, they stay glued together. He always protects you, teaches you the ropes on how to navigate life even though there is only 3 years between you, and you would probably class him as one of your best friends. 

Yet, he never wants you to come to his races.

Yeonjun is one of, if not the best illegal drag racer in the city. He’s built respect around his and his crews name - Thursday’s Children - TC for short. Initially, he loved bringing you along to the races, but that quickly changed the moment you caught the attention of the one rival he despises.

Ireh turns to you, exasperation etched across her features as she crosses her arms. “So, do you want to see your boyfriend or not?”

“He is not my boyfriend, Ireh,” you retort, huffing the words out for what feels like the millionth time. But she isn’t wrong - you are here to see the boy, and though typically you wouldn’t risk coming to the tracks and getting caught by Yeonjun, there’s a reason for the risk tonight.

“Oh? So what do you call a guy you’re so hopelessly in love with that you’re willing to betray your brother and sneak behind his back?” she counters with a teasing lilt in her voice. “Because you wouldn’t do that for a casual hookup.”

That’s also the kicker of this whole thing; since that day when you bumped into Yeonjun’s rival and the ban was put in place so that you never have to come into contact with him…you’ve actually been seeing him almost every day for the past seven months. Your boyfriend who isn’t your boyfriend? That’s Sim Jaeyun - the leader of The Lucifers, and your brother's arch nemesis.

It makes you recoil every time you think about betraying your brother, especially when someone slaps you over the face with it so blatantly the way your best friend does. It’s worse because as much as you downplay the relationship, you can’t deny that there is something so real between you both. As soon as you met him, you were instantly drawn to him - like a moth to a very dangerous and reckless flame.

To be honest, you vowed to stay away from any and all racers. Each of them is arrogant and too prideful, your brother included, but the more you spoke with Jaeyun, got to know him and all his quirks, you realised quickly that he’s the exception. 

Jaeyun is ripped straight from the pages of a romance book. At first glance, with his sharp smirk and the swagger that comes with being one of the city’s top drag racers, he gives off that classic fuckboy vibe - a bit reckless, untouchable, with that unbothered arrogance he uses to get under other crew’s skin. To a lot of people, he’s just the arrogant leader of The Lucifers, quick to brush off his competition like they’re nothing. 

But that’s only half of who he is.

When it’s just the two of you, you get to see a side of Jaeyun that he guards closely - trusting you with something he doesn’t share with the world. He’s patient and tender, his words soft and careful, and it’s almost startling how different he can be. He’s not performing or putting up walls; he’s just there with you, completely and wholly, in a way that’s so real it takes your heart a minute to stop making more space for him. If you were to say this to anyone else that knew him, or of him, they would laugh in your face - and Jaeyun would deny it in a heartbeat.

It wouldn’t be fair to say he hides his ‘real’ self from others because being the racer everyone perceives is also part of him. The intensity he brings to the track is genuine - it’s a part of his soul, he’s clearly passionate about it, loving the thrill and heat that comes from burning some rubber and shouting a big fuck you to his opponent. But with you, Jaeyun allows himself to be something more. He only shows the loverboy side of him in your company, being with you gives him a moment to embrace a side of himself that he sometimes forgets about.

Of course, he’s still cocky and boastful - he’s allowed to be; he’s really fucking good - it’s the main reason why he and Yeonjun are rivals in the first place. While TC rules the North and East of the city, The Lucifers hold ownership of the South and West, but both of them want to be on top - the best in the city, not just their turfs.

In Yeonjun’s eyes, the only one who could be deemed better than him is Jaeyun, and that’s a bitter pill to swallow. So he won’t swallow it, he’ll use it as motivation instead, to beat Jaeyun in ever way possible.

Shifting your focus back to Ireh and ridding your mind of the thoughts of the leaders, you shake your head and let out the fakest laugh you think you’ve ever heard spit from your mouth. “In love with him? I am not in love with him. We’re just, seeing one another, casual, y’know?”

Ireh holds that knowing stare on you as you stand there, your mind battling with itself like it usually does in moments like these, justification and excuses bubbling up. “Listen, you can keep him as your ‘not boyfriend’ all you want,” she adds with a smirk, “but you know that label isn’t hiding your feelings. It’s written all over your face -  even now.”

You’re an open book, what your mouth doesn’t say, your face certainly will and you’re more than sure it’s telling the story of your heart that you refuse to admit. For both your sake and Jaeyun’s.

“Whatever, let’s just go find him.” Rolling your eyes, you take her arm and lead her further into the pit of people.

It’s heaving with racers, pit lizards, and those just looking to have a good time and smell the fumes. The floodlights guide you to the edge of the track while you thread your and Ireh's way through the crowd, moving closer to the edge, where you get a clear view of the grit track. Out of all the places Yeonjun and Jaeyun race, this track has a special place in your heart. There’s nothing too fancy about it, but it does have one element that outdoes all the rest; Devil’s Corner.

Devil’s Corner is infamous, a steep turn that has racers pushing their cars to the limit. They either conquer the bend or be conquered by it. It’s a sharp, merciless curve that rises slightly before plunging down at a nearly impossible angle, leading straight into a narrow stretch and to the finish line. So many have tried to beat it or show off on it - you’ve seen more than one car flip or crumpling like a smooshed tin can. 

Luckily, both your brother and Jaeyun know exactly how to handle it, masters of their art being proven each time. You never have to worry about them too much when it comes to this track, they’re usually way ahead of whatever chump tries to race them, but a little flutter of anxiety will always be there.

You squint against the harsh glare of headlights, raising a hand to shield your eyes as you scan the crowd. Among the bustle, you spot Heeseung and Jongseong leaning casually against a car with the devil printed crudely onto it, looking entirely at ease in the chaotic scene. They’re two of Jaeyun’s closest friends and crewmates, so wherever they are, he’s usually not far behind.

Heeseung is the first to notice you, nudging Jongseong with a mischievous glint in his eye as he shoots you a welcoming look. The two of them are more than just members of The Lucifers - they’re practically family to Jaeyun, and in turn that makes them your number one hype men and the only others to know about your secret fling.

Squeezing her arm, you guide Ireh across the track and into red territory, smiling brightly and suddenly forgetting about the possibility of Yeonjun spotting you. 

“Hi, boys!” you greet them warmly, letting go of your friend to hug them tightly. “How are you feeling?” Both of them have races tonight, though you could never tell with how nonchalant they both look. Going against TC always has higher stakes, but they don’t seem fussed.

Jongseong pats your head and smirks. “We’re chill, it’s only Gyu and Soobin, hardly competition.”

“We are shocked to see you though, doesn’t little Junnie usually keep you in a cage when it comes to TC Lucifer races?” Heeseung nips in.

“Well, I had to come and-”

“Support the number one racer on his birthday,” a fading Australian accent interrupts your sentence, his hands gripping your hips and instinctively pulling you back into him, your ass pressing against one of your favourite parts of him. 

Jaeyun’s touch is intoxicating, a magnetic pull that has you leaning back into him without a second thought, any anxiety about Yeonjun’s lurking eyes now vanished. His hands drift up and down your waist, lingering over the curves he knows so well, savouring the feel of the skintight dress you’ve slipped into just for him. You can feel his gaze, possessive, admiring, and utterly absorbed into you as his fingers press against the sheer fabric at your sides, the warmth of his skin teasing yours through the thin material. He loves it when you dress up for him because he knows it’s only for him, not one of these other fuckers at the grit track gets to touch you the way he does, gets to see you the way he does. 

Instinctively, he dips his head, his lips grazing your shoulder, trailing upwards in a slow, lazy path that sends a pulse straight to your core. His mouth follows the line of your neck, leaving a trail of heat that makes you feel like the two of you are alone in the world, past all of the noise and chaos around you. When he reaches your ear, he nibbles down and whispers, “Hi, Princess.” It’s a greeting as much as a claim, you’re his princess.

You’re aware, somewhere in the back of your mind, that this is probably the most reckless thing you could do. Yeonjun could be here any second, his protective instincts would be kicking in if he caught even a speckle of Jaeyun’s hands on you. And yet, the thrill of it only makes you want to sink deeper into Jaeyun’s touch. He holds you firmly, his grip the only thing holding you up right now.

However, you need to let go, scared of the repercussions. It’s bad enough you’re even on this side of the track, let alone in the arms of The Lucifer’s leader. So you spin around, gathering your bones and standing upright, although they almost turn to jelly again as soon as you see him.

His hair is bouncy, parted down the middle with two strands falling effortlessly on his face, pointing straight to that perfect nose that you’ve had the pleasure of riding one or ten times. His lips are curled up in a small smile, so subtle only you can see before it turns into a full-blown smirk, his kissable lips so inviting as he bites into his bottom one. You love his mouth, everything about it; how it looks, the way it tastes, it’s magical skills when it’s in between your legs, all of it.

“Happy birthday,” you murmur, smiling so fondly at him that you know Ireh is going to have something to say about it later.

“Thanks. What did my girl get me?” he asks, leaning forward and ghosting his lips over yours, his bottom lip begging to be bitten and sucked on. Every time he calls you his girl, you swear you almost get down on your knees and begin to worship him. 

Maybe you’re starting to see what Ireh and his friends mean about your non-existent label and what it should be.

You resist the urge to just devour him in a kiss as you speak. “I can’t show you it right now, not here,” you tease, poking your tongue out to wet your lips.

“Yeah? What if I ditch this race and we go somewhere that you can show me?” His voice is low and inviting, every word dripping with promise. Jaeyun leans down, his lips hovering just inches from yours, his eyes gleaming playfully. His hands roam up your back, his fingers pressing just hard enough to make you shudder, his nails grazing your skin ever so slightly - a subtle incentive to consider his tempting suggestion.

Before you can even nod, though, Jongseong clears his throat pointedly, a slight smirk tugging at his mouth. “Actually, mate, you really can’t skip this one,” he says in a language you can’t understand, his tone heavy with meaning meant solely for Jaeyun.

Jaeyun’s grip loosens slightly as he pulls back, and you seize the moment to break from his hypnotic gaze, turning to face Jongseong with a raised eyebrow. “What’s so special about this race?” you ask, voice laced with curiosity. “What’s at stake this time, a car?”

High-stakes wagers are nothing new. Racers love to have some form of motivation and it’s not unusual for bets to involve money, cars, or something like territorial rights over parts of the city. And while you don’t know exactly what’s in play, the tension between Jongseong and Jaeyun suggests this isn’t just any race.

“Not a car,” Jaeyun begins removing his hands from your waist, and just in time too, because over the racer's shoulder, you see someone walking over with raw fury and intensity over their features.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Y/N?” Yeonjun spits as he approaches, his aura red. The last time you saw him this angry was when you accidentally mistook his MSCHF boots as funky vases and put the tulips that Jaeyun had got you inside them. Of course, he didn’t know they were from his rival, but you did just ruin his £300 shoes. 

Truthfully, they looked better as a vase.

Jaeyun’s hand still rests on your waist, firm and possessive, but you reluctantly take a step back, putting as much space as possible between you. You will yourself to look unfazed and relaxed, praying Yeonjun hadn’t seen Jaeyun practically dry-humping you just moments before.

Thinking on her feet, Ireh steps in, tossing a casual arm over Jongseong’s shoulder with a bright smile. “Actually, it’s my fault, Yeonjun,” she chirps, doing her best to sound apologetic yet unbothered. “I wanted to see Jongseong race, and I dragged Y/N along for moral support.” Her voice drops, filled with mock affection. “We’re dating.”

Everyone looks confused except Ireh, who is putting all those years bluffing to her parents about her whereabouts in the middle of the night to the ultimate test. They are easily fooled, but Yeonjun is not.

Glancing down at his ‘girlfriend’, Jongseong wears a look of uncertainty but also…happiness? You always suspected his crush on your best friend, this just confirms it. Like breathing, he slips into the role, slipping his arm around her waist and kissing her temple lovingly - he’s clearly taking this as an opportunity to be close to her.

Yeonjun’s lip curls as he looks Jongseong up and down with a mixture of disgust and disbelief. “Slim pickings around here, I guess. I didn’t think you’d settle for a shit stain on the sidewalk.”

Jongseong’s easygoing expression hardens as he holds Ireh close, offended and possessive. “Watch your fucking mouth,” he growls, his tone a warning.

Amidst the brewing tension, Jaeyun’s hand sneaks to find home on your ass, his grip firm and reassuring. He’s careful though, keeping his touch just out of Yeonjun’s line of sight, but you can tell he also doesn’t care, not really. He would fight your brother in an instant if it wasn’t for you asking him to keep it in check. No one ever tells Jaeyun what to do - not the authorities, not family, no one - but he’ll make the exception for you.

“Get off our side, Yeonjun,” Jaeyun finally interjects and pausing the bickering, his voice low and steady, clearly unbothered by the confrontation brewing. He removes his hand from you and he regrets it almost the moment it happens, wishing he could glue himself to you and always feel your warmth.

“Not until I get my sister back,” Yeonjun retorts, the words hang thickly in the air as the rest of The Lucifers gather around. 

Even the mere suggestion of you being taken away stirs something in Jaeyun, a slight tightening of his jaw, a flicker of protectiveness in his eyes. Now that he has you by his side, on his side both physically and literally, he doesn’t like you too far away.

But Jaeyun’s lips twitch into a mocking smile as he crosses his arms and hides his true feelings, eyes never leaving Yeonjun’s. “Take her back then,” he scoffs, tilting his head with an air of nonchalance that only stokes the fire. He turns to you, smirking and hiding that beautiful boy you know behind the arrogance of himself. “If that’s what she wants.”

The ball is in your court and you hate when people do this to you - making you choose - and this is the worst choice of all. Jaeyun is giving you the opening to stand up for yourself, something he’s been slowly but surely trying to help you do throughout the seven months of seeing him, but it’s so much harder than he realises. 

Betraying Yeonjun feels like tearing a piece of your soul away. The thought of hurting him, of driving a wedge between you twists in your gut. It’s not easy to reconcile the love you have for your brother with the undeniable connection you share with Jaeyun.

As the silence stretches, you take a deep breath, your heart racing. You glance at Jaeyun with sorrowful eyes, knowing you’re disappointing him with what you’re about to do. You take a step forward and stand by Yeonjun, looking down shamefully. You don’t dare look at the hurt in Jaeyun’s eyes.

And it’s there, only for you to see. He had truly hoped that this would say a big ‘fuck you’ and rid yourself of the shackles of Yeonjun’s overbearing brotherly role and claim the independence he’s been encouraging you to reach for. 

In all honesty, he has been respecting your wishes and he’s content with that, but he hates to see you battling with it so damagingly. Your anxiety gets the better of you sometimes, your brain whispering insults and what ifs while Jaeyun’s lips are on yours,l. It’s gotren so bad in fact that half of your secret meetups have consisted of you sitting in his lap while he strokes your back, whispering petal soft reassurances to calm you down from turmoil. 

Not exactly a five star date.

In some way, he wonders if the weight of it all is pressing harder now because you’re both crossing into a deeper territory of emotions that you can’t step back from.

“Ireh, don’t you dare bring Y/N back here again,” he warns your best friend, stepping in front of you, his way of protecting you but really he’s just locking you in the cage that he built. You can feel the heat of anger surrounding him and you feel ashamed. Not only are you in trouble but now your best friend is getting the blame for it. All because you can’t tell Yeonjun the truth.

Jaeyun pokes his tongue in his cheek and laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. He doesn’t say anything, but that’s enough to make Yeonjun tense once again, narrowing his eyes.

“You want to say something else?” your brother grits out, hoping that Jaeyun will bite his bait. 

Yet, Jaeyun simply raises his hands in a gesture of mock surrender, a playful smile on his face. “Nah, mate. I’ll save all my talking for out on the track, yeah?” The tone of his words is light but there’s an underlying tension simmering as he stops himself from saying what he really thinks. 

What he really wants to say is how fucking ridiculous it is to watch Yeonjun try to control not just your life but also those who have no obligation to bow to him. It’s clearly a trait of his - one he can’t get on board with.

However, the phrase ‘save all my talking for out on the track’ strikes you as oddly significant. You then suddenly remember Jongseong’s earlier cryptic warnings to Jaeyun about how he should stick around for the race and it all clicks into place. 

Your eyes widen as you search Jaeyun’s expression for confirmation, but he remains locked onto Yeonjun’s fierce glare, the two of them engaged in a silent battle of wills.

Pulling at Yeonjun’s wrist, you draw his attention back to you, though his gaze never wavers from Jaeyun. “You’re racing each other tonight? Why?” you ask, concern creeping into your voice.

Of course, it’s not uncommon for leaders of rival crews to face off in races; it happens all the time. But the stakes feel particularly high tonight, and a knot of worry forms in your stomach. They haven’t battled it out since that night you met Jaeyun and that almost ended with Yeonjun crashing and Jaeyun turning upside down. 

They have no limits when it comes to racing one another, and at the grit track, that can only mean bad things.

“Because Jaeyun here decided he wants this track to himself,” Yeonjun explains half-heartedly. 

The grit track is TC territory, placed technically within the east side of the city, but its location on the very edge of the west makes it up for grabs - if they can win it. For years, The Lucifers have wanted this spot, the leaders well before Jaeyun took charge could never do it. TC leaders make sure this is the one track they’re masters at, no one is ever able to beat them on it.

Jaeyun’s smirk widens, and he steps closer, closing the space between them. “The track belongs to whoever can handle it, not whoever sticks their name on it and hopes everyone just plays nice.”

“I’ve been handling it, in case you couldn’t see that,” he chides back, not appreciating the jab. “Your old leader Mingi couldn’t handle it against me, that’s the reason you became leader, right?”

Yeonjun’s smirk is cold, knowing that mentioning the former leader will get the reaction he wants from Jaeyun - and it does. Jaeyun’s easy smirk falters for a split second, his eyes darkening with a flash of barely concealed rage. Mentioning Mingi was a low blow, they both know it. 

Mingi is Jaeyun’s best friend and the night he tried to stake claim on TC turf, he ended up crashing the car, paralysing his body from the waist down. In truth, it’s the only reason Jaeyun is standing in the position he is right now, and he hates that fact.

He always admired Mingi as a leader.

Jaeyun’s voice drops, dangerously calm. “Say his name again,” he warns as the muscles in his jaw tighten. “But make sure you remember that if he hadn’t crashed because of your pathetic excuse of a trick, he would have this track, easy.”

Yeonjun’s smug grin only widens, feeding off the frustration simmering in his rival. “Is that right? Funny, because as far as I remember, it wasn’t foul play, he just couldn’t handle Devil’s Corner, and we all know what happened after that. Or maybe you’d like a reminder?”

The tension is suffocating, an invisible line drawn in the dirt between them, and everyone around senses that one wrong word could send it spiralling out of control. Jaeyun takes a step closer, closing the gap so that they’re nearly nose-to-nose. “You better watch your fucking mouth, you know what you did.”

You don’t know much about that night, neither of the men in your life wishing to utter a word about it, but all you’ve gathered from the rumours is that there are two sides to believe; one in which Mingi was simply reckless on the corner, a freak accident due to his negligence, the other? Yeonjun and his crew planted a spike trail on the road that caused him to flip over and roll down the hill. 

The rumours were never settled because the car took such a tumble that it eventually got engulfed in flames, the tyres melting and any evidence gone. It’s one of the biggest mysteries amongst the crews and only TC will truly know the truth, not that they would ever admit it.

Do you think your brother could do such a thing? Not in a million years, but you also know his competitive streak can cloud his judgment. Either way, you’re nervous about his and Jaeyun’s safety tonight.

Yeonjun’s expression hardens, dropping all pretences of mockery. “Prove it. I did fuck all, your pathetic excuse for a leader was just a shit driver that couldn’t handle the heat.”

The words are enough to push Jaeyun to the edge. His fists clench at his sides, but before he can lurch forward and connect his knuckles with your brother’s face, Heeseung pulls him back with a firm grip on his shoulder, speaking low and steady. “It’s not worth it, Jae. He wants you to lose it.”

“And I fucking will, the prick deserves it,” you hear him argue with his friend. It’s moments like these you wish you could just walk over to him and settle his nerves. Not in the Joey King in Kissing Booth way with the cliche ‘look at me, look at me’ vibes, but let him know that you’re there for him, that this urge to win and prove something might end up even more disastrous than Mingi’s fate.

While Heeseung and Jongseong tend to Jaeyun’s flaring temper, Yeonjun shifts his focus to you, his rebellious sister. “Seriously, Y/N, I told you to stay the fuck away from these races,” he has venom in his voice but that’s still lingering from the spout with Jaeyun. Towards you, there is affection and concern, his usual feelings towards you.

“I just…Ireh wanted me to come,” you lie, using the dark night and shadows from the floodlights to mask your growing nose. 

“Okay, fine. You still should have said no,” he rebuts, suddenly giving you a quick glance over, “And why are you dressed like that? You never dress like a track hopper.” 

It’s a little insulting, considering what you wear is none of his business, and that you actually do feel good in it.

You square your shoulders, meeting Yeonjun’s scrutinising gaze. “I wanted to dress up for once, alright? Is that such a crime?” you snap, your voice sharper than you initially intended. But something about his tone, so quick to judge, grates on you.

Yeonjun’s eyes soften just a fraction, and he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, Y/N,” he begins, his tone shifting to something gentler. “I don’t mean to give you a hard time. I just don’t want you getting dragged into this, especially tonight.” His eyes flick to the track, the pits where engines roar to life, and the crowd of people buzzing with dangerous energy as they wait for the next race. “You’re above all of this.”

A small pang of guilt tugs at you, but you hold your ground. “I’m not here to cause trouble, Yeonjun. Let me just stay to support you,” you lie again, stomach twisting as the truth sits, heavy and hidden.

Yeonjun narrows his eyes, not fully convinced but willing to let it go - for now. “Alright, but stay out of the pit. And if anything happens, you leave, got it?”

“Got it. I’ll keep my distance.”

Satisfied, he gives a brief nod, but as he turns back towards his car, guiding you over to the right side of the track, where you belong. You look back as you watch Jaeyun eye you up, saddened at your sudden removal, but expecting it nonetheless.

You guess you’ll just need to see him once this is all over, and both of them finish this race safely.

You hope.

_____

The sound of engines revving fills the night air as you stand on the edge of the track, patiently awaiting Jaeyun and Yeonjun’s arrival. Your nerves are unsettled and your mind is very much being represented like that one scene in Spongebob where he forgets his name and the little sponges in his brain scramble for the answer.

It’s been a long time since you felt this tense, you thought coming here and hiding would be the thrill of your night, turns out that was the most mundane - and unsuccessful part.

The crowd is bigger now, all revved up - no pun intended - for the race. The stakes are high, like really high and you can’t imagine what the outcome could possibly be. 

A thrill courses through the crowd, the anticipation tangible as Jaeyun’s car pulls up on the east side of the track - your side. While most of the TCs around you murmur, assuming he’s just trying to throw Yeonjun off, they couldn’t be further from the truth. Jaeyun’s tactic isn’t about intimidation; he just wants a final glance at you before the race begins, to see you in that dress that Yeonjun hates oh so much, and use it as motivation. He doesn’t want to show off per say, but if you’re impressed, it’s a bonus.

The intensity in his eyes across the crowd is unmistakable, and when he whistles, a slight, beckoning tilt of his head makes it clear he’s calling you over.

You look around to see if anyone noticed, and once you’re convinced they haven’t, you check your brother. Sure enough, he’s deep in conversation with his crew, oblivious as he checks his car’s setup. 

Is it stupid to go over and risk getting caught? Of course. But Jaeyun has a persuasive smile and dreamy eyes to match. So the next thing you know, you take a deep breath, slipping through the sea of people, and make your way towards Jaeyun’s car. His smirk widens as you reach him, his hand already extended to brush your arm.

But you swat it away, half playfully, half serious. “What are you doing?”

“What?” he asks, eyes glinting with amusement. “Can’t a guy get a good luck kiss from his girl?”

“Jaeyun, are you fucking crazy? Look who’s right next to you!” you hiss, gesturing towards Yeonjun, who’s still unaware, thankfully. You really appreciate his attention to detail in these moments.

“Princess, you’ve been sneaking around and bouncing on my cock for seven months now. If he hasn’t caught on by now, I doubt he’s going to. He probably doesn’t even care.” He says it so easily, like all of this has just been in your mind and not a real threat.

“Yeah? Tell that to the way he glared you down not two hours ago. Or did you miss the part where he wanted to tear you to pieces for even breathing next to me?”

Jaeyun barely flinches at the mention, a hint of a pout replacing his smirk. “Come on, it’s my birthday. Don’t you think I deserve at least one little kiss?”

“Didn’t you already use the birthday excuse to get me here?” you counter, eyeing him with a playful twinkle.

“That’s for attendance,” he teases, leaning closer to you, practically hanging out the window just for a taste of you. “Kisses are part of the package.”

Unable to resist the temptation in his eyes, you check over your shoulder one last time before leaning in, brushing your lips against his in what should be a quick peck for luck, but he turns into so much more. 

Jaeyun’s hand slides up to cradle your cheek, his touch warm and possessive. His thumb brushes softly over your skin as he deepens the kiss, ignoring the chaos, this stolen moment is the only thing that matters. His fingertips, rough from years of racing, contrast with the gentle way he holds you, drawing you further into him.

His tongue sweeps over your lips and you can’t help but groan and grant him access to your mouth, praying to the gods to get a taste of him. You’re greedy for him, ravenous almost, and he mirrors your need. If he wasn’t in front of at least one hundred people, including your brother, he would be dragging your pretty ass into this car and watching your tits clap in his face.

But then, like a bucket of cold water, reality hits as Jungwon steps between the two cars, flag poised for the start. You pull away reluctantly and savour the last few pecks Jaeyun plants on your puffy, lipgloss-smudged lips. 

Yeonjun snaps to attention suddenly aware of your appearnce and his voice cuts sharply through the revving engines. “Y/N! What the fuck are you doing?” he shouts, his tone edged with disbelief and frustration. “I told you to stay off the pit!”

You jump, instinctively retreating from Jaeyun’s side as you stammer out a response, just thankful that he didn’t seem to notice how seconds prior you were getting your tonsils tangled with Jaeyun. “I was just…I was wishing you good luck!” You walk quickly, rounding Jaeyun’s car, trying to ignore the lingering sensation of the kiss. But Yeonjun’s face is a mask of exasperation as you approach his window.

“Y/N, get back!” he orders, eyes widening as he glances at Jungwon, who’s counting down without a care in the world.

Only then do you realise you’re directly between the two cars, and neither Jaeyun nor Yeonjun seems willing to delay the race.

“Three!” Jungwon’s deep voice booms, the crowd roaring as the tension builds.

Your feet feel glued to the ground, panic swelling in your chest. You know that chances of you getting hurt are slim, but you’ve never been this close to the race, so close that you can feel the heat from their motors swirling your leg like those snakes on Lucy Grey.

“Two!”

Jungwon raises the flag, ready to unleash it. The cars tremble with power, the engines growling, but your brain’s too scrambled to make a move. Jaeyun sees your tense frame and panics for you, scared of even a scratch on you.

“One!”

Suddenly, you feel a jolt - a car door bumps against the back of your legs, and before you know it, strong hands grab your waist, pulling you backwards in a quick, fluid motion. You land on something soft, but before you even realise what’s happened, Jaeyun’s arm reaches across to steady you in the passenger seat of his car.

“Go!”

With a salute to Yeonjun that’s equal parts taunt and triumph, Jaeyun hits the gas, and the world blurs as he speeds off, leaving your brother gaping in stunned disbelief behind you.

The wind whips through the open passenger door as you scramble to sit upright, barely processing what just happened. You feel like you’re suddenly on a rollercoaster, the car's oomph causing you to stick to the seat like the Sticky Wall.

“Can you shut that, Princess? You’re letting a draft in,” he smirks, too pleased with himself.

But all you can do is stare back, aghast. “What the fuck, Jae?! This is not funny.”

“It’s not, you could have got fucking hurt,” he tries to play it off as a joke but you hear the seriousness in his tone. When you look at him, you also see the slight fear in his eyes.

Jaeyun knows it was stupid to drag you into his car, but he panicked, what else could he do? All the possibilities swam across his mind like a reckless current. You could have gotten scratched up by the grit, swooped under the tyres with the sheer power of the acceleration…or worse.

Not all of these scenarios make sense, but the fear of losing you makes him think even the impossible. So if he can save you even from probabilities, then he will.

You reach over and such the door, the wind making it difficult as he rounds a corner. Once it clicks into place, you relax a little, breathing out. It happened in such a blur that you can’t even figure out where on the track you are. All you know is that Jaeyun is first, and you’re stuck in this race whether you like it or not.

Without taking his eyes off the road or his foot off the accelerator, he reaches over you and grabs the seatbelt, fiddling with it awkwardly to secure you in. You hate to say that you’re looking at the veins on his hands as he unravels it, but you are. You could be helping him and saving him the struggle but it’s just too fucking delicious to look at.

That distraction is the only thing stopping your heart from leaping out of your throat.

“Did you really think dragging me into your car, going a million miles per hour and having to survive the grit track safer than me standing on the starting line?” you question him, disbelief and mockery in your tone.

Jaeyun furrows his brows and lets your words sink in. “Well…when you put it that way, it’s dumb,” he agrees, mentally cursing himself. “But if you think about it, now your brother won’t pull any of his tricks. Not with his precious sister in the car.”

Now that embarrassment for his rash decision is turning into pride. Maybe subconsciously he pulled you into his car as a safety measure, after all, can’t be too careful around a bunch of TCs; not when there is so much at stake.

“Really? I’m a reassurance? What if he’s already planned something and you’ve just brought me to my demise?” It hurts you that Jaeyun truly believes your brother is capable of dirty tricks, but then again, you don’t have one hundred percent faith that he wouldn’t pull something.

Jaeyun looks into his rearview mirror and sees Yeonjun hot on his tail, probably filled with enough fury to power his car without an engine. It makes Jaeyun nervous, both your words and Yeonjun’s gaining speed, but he masks it under a laugh.

“At least we would die together. What’s that song? To die by your side-”

“Is such a heavenly way to die, yeah, yeah, it’s one of my favourite songs,” you admit, heart blushing that he even remembered it considering his playlists contain an abundance of Justin Bieber and other generic pop acts - he’s not really one to appreciate the Smiths. “But I would rather listen to the lyrics than live it out, Jaeyun.”

“I don’t see a double-decker bus,” he looks at you for a split second but it’s long enough that you see the teasing glint in his eye that masks his genuine concern, and weirdly, it puts you at ease. He would never let anything happen to you, you know that deep down.

You let out a genuine laugh and whack his arm playfully. “You know what I mean, Jaeyun.”

“Princess,” he intertwines his fingers with you, a chuckle escaping his lips, “I promise, okay? You will get out of this car in one piece.” Jaeyun kisses your knuckles and it’s both stomach fluttering and impressive how he can handle a car going 80mph and still have time to dote on you.

The romance doesn’t last too long though, because he has to lock in and focus. Behind him, Yeonjun’s car looms closer, headlights glowing like the eyes of a predator. He’s tailing Jaeyun so closely that any error, even a slight miscalculation, could end it all in a brutal collision. Jaeyun glances at his rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of Yeonjun’s face, fierce and determined.

He figured your brother wouldn’t be in the best of moods with his act.

“You think that little gap’s gonna stop him?” you mutter, gripping the seat as Jaeyun expertly rounds another bend, tyres squealing against the track’s rough surface.

“Not a chance,” Jaeyun replies with a grin. “But it’ll take him a few seconds longer. Enough for me to play with.”

He shifts gears, feeling the engine’s deep growl as he powers down a straight stretch, his speedometer needle pushing higher. Yeonjun matches his pace, but Jaeyun, ever the strategist, swerves slightly, throwing up a cloud of grit in his rival’s direction. The dust storm is thick enough to obscure Yeonjun’s vision momentarily, forcing him to fall back by a hair’s breadth.

Jaeyun accelerates, barely missing a pile of tyres on his right. Just as he slips past, Yeonjun veers to the inside lane, attempting to pass on Jaeyun’s left. The corner’s coming up fast - a sharp, unforgiving turn with no forgiveness if they misjudge. Jaeyun catches on immediately, not giving Yeonjun the satisfaction. With a calculated flick of the wheel, he forces Yeonjun to either fall back or risk veering straight into the barrier.

Yeonjun, however, isn’t about to let him off easy. He falls back just enough to avoid a crash but quickly cuts to Jaeyun’s other side, inches away, daring him to swerve first. Their cars glide nearly side-by-side, matching each other’s pace in a tense, furious dance.

It’s so scary, being in the passenger seat of a car that’s almost buckling under the pressure of how fast it’s going. Of course, you knew this was not going to be like overtaking someone on the M8, but you sure as fuck didn’t expect this. The world is flying by you so fast that you can’t begin to comprehend how either of them even drives like this.

Your brother’s car pulls up beside you both and making eye contact with him is the worst thing in the world you could do. 

“Y/N, what the fuck?!” you lip read, unable to actually hear him over the roar of the engines. He blames you so easily -  even if it is 60% of your fault because you answered Jaeyun’s beckon - but it still makes you a little mad. 

Did you want to be dragged into this? Absolutely not. All you wanted was to kiss your pretty non-boyfriend good luck on his birthday, you didn’t need all these dramatics with it; you get enough fireworks in your belly from his pretty mouth alone.

The sound of the engine thunders louder, Jaeyun accelerating and pushing his car beyond its threshold as he glides through the race. It’s all pretty intense - and oddly fun - but it’s not about to be in roughly one minute. 

“Devil’s Corner’s up,” you murmur as if Jaeyun even needs the reminder. But he only nods, that familiar smirk dancing on his lips, a spark of something almost wicked in his eyes.

“I know,” he says with a determined grin, shifting gears smoothly as he sets up for the turn. “This is where your brother won’t risk it. He’s too careful with the track; it’s got him wrapped around its finger.”

“Everyone is careful around this part of the track…” you half express as a statement while also hinting that it could be a question, inquiring what Jaeyun could possibly do next. 

Your trail-off sentence steals his attention and he sees the query in your eyes. He inhales deeply before addressing the elephant in the car you’ve somehow given birth to. 

“Princess, do you trust me?”

“Of course, it’s the track I don’t,” you confess.

“Me either, but I gotta pull all the punches here; for the track, for the Lucifiers…for Mingi.” His voice cracks a little as he thinks of his friend, and the damage it caused him. 

Jaeyun's gaze hardens, fingers gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles whiten, as though he’s holding not just the car but every ounce of the Lucifier’s pride and promise he’s made as their leader. His mind is as sharply focused on Mingi as it is on the wheel, almost as if his friend’s presence is woven into every inch of the track ahead. There’s a weight he feels, a determination to make his best friend proud, to take the track that cost Mingi so much.

"Trusting me means sticking it out," he adds, almost like a dare. “You ready?”

You swallow, nerves bubbling as you nod, barely managing a steady breath. “Just…don’t do anything stupid, okay?” But even as you say it, you know Jaeyun’s already got a strategy, one as risky as it is relentless. He could fucking kill you right now and yet, you’re ready to put your life in his hands, because you know he’s never going to snap it.

Kind of like your heart.

Ahead, Devil’s Corner yawns open like a waiting trap, and Yeonjun knows it. You can feel the weight of your brother’s stare from the other car, his eyes sharp with worry and rivalry. He’s fought this corner countless times and knows that going at it full throttle will never end well. You catch the fleeting look on Yeonjun’s face - a mixture of fear, anger, and an unspoken warning. He’s petrified for you, not knowing how far Jaeyun will go to secure the win.

Yet, you couldn’t be calmer.

“Hold on, yeah?” Jaeyun instructs and you immediately obey, watching as the dial hits it’s peak, his car flying even further in front of Yeonjun’s.

“You need to slow down, Jae…” you warn.

“How about you put that trust into action yeah?” he snaps back, though his anger isn’t directed at you, he’s just nervously tense. Who wouldn’t be in a situation like this? So you don’t hold it against him. If anything, it just makes you want to take his hand in yours and offer him some semblance of comfort. 

But that would be silly right now considering there’s a death corner with you and his name on it.

As Jaeyun steers into Devil’s Corner, the entire car seems to tighten, every movement rippling through you as though you were an ant, squashed under the tyre. The pressure outside is immense, like a wall of wind trying to shove the car off the road. Inside, it’s nearly as suffocating, the tension compressing everything around you, even your heartbeat syncs with each vibration of the engine.

The curve is sharp - even sharper than you’d realised watching from the stands - and you feel the pull of gravity as Jaeyun doesn’t so much follow the turn as he cuts through it, daring the edge. Gravel spits and clinks against the sides of his precious baby.

Yeonjun is somewhere far back, but you can’t even think about him or his safety. The only thing consuming your mind is Jaeyun’s grip on the wheel and the creeping dread and exhilaration fighting for space in your lungs.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you convince yourself that it’s less scary to face it if you can’t actually see it - using the ‘if I can’t see you, you can’t see me’ childlike tactic to feel brave. And in the midst of it all, as the car feels like it’s on the edge of its control, you hear Jaeyun’s voice over the noise - a steadying presence cutting through as he senses your apprehension.

“Nearly there, Princess,” he mutters through gritted teeth, his jaw clenched and his heart holding still within his chest. Although he’s fighting the battle of fear and hope inside of him, his voice anchors you just enough to brace yourself.

The car rockets through the tightest part of the bend, wheels practically skating on the track's very edge - the same edge that caused Mingi his loss of legs. You grip onto whatever you can as Jaeyun’s knuckles whiten, his hands firm and controlled on the wheel. The tension in the car mounts like a coiled spring ready to snap, the corner pulling both of you, testing how far it can go before either you or the car breaks under pressure.

At last, you feel the tail end of the car swerve slightly as Jaeyun gives just enough leeway to keep control, and you can sense him gaining ground, just barely escaping the grasp of the turn. Devil’s Corner spits you both out onto the straight stretch and for a heartbeat, there’s only the muted sound of your breathing, mixing with Jaeyun’s, heavy and relieved.

Finally, you open your eyes to see the road unwinding ahead, straighter, safer, and almost welcoming after the chaos of the corner. Your pulse is still racing, but the danger feels like it’s finally behind you - or so you hope. Jaeyun throws you a quick, side-glance, his usual cocky smirk returned but softer, almost a silent acknowledgement of the risk he just took with you by his side.

He doesn’t need to say anything, but as he shifts gears, pressing down harder on the accelerator to widen the gap between him and Yeonjun, his smirk says it all: That was for Mingi, and for you.

Once he sees the finish line in sight, he breathes out and slaps the wheel harshly. “Fuck, yeah!” he hollers, a shit-eating grin plastered all over his face, victory secured and only a long stretch away. 

“Holy fuck…” you breathe out, chest heaving and eyes glued to the road in front of you.

“And you doubted me,” he feigns an upset pout and tilts his head in your direction.

“Well, you still have Yeonjun to deal with.” The reminder of your brother fast approaching doesn’t rock him, instead, he laughs.

Shaking his head as if Yeonjun’s trailing position is as much of an inconvenience as a bird shitting on his windshield, Jaeyun places a hand on your thigh and squeezes. “He’s still there because I let him be there. Can’t humiliate the guy completely y’know? He’ll be my family in the future.” 

Your mouth opens as you process his words, unsure if he even realises what he just said. It’s a pass-away promise of commitment, and considering you aren’t even officially dating, you would say it’s thrown you off of Everest and has your mind tumbling down after your body.

It’s probably best to bring it up later though, you don’t want to throw him off, especially considering he’s still going 50mph.

He smirks and revs the engine once more, pushing the car just shy of its limits. “Why so worried? I’ve got a perfect record of keeping you safe, don’t I?” He raises an eyebrow at you, his voice laced with that familiar teasing tone.

“Oh, you mean the ‘perfect’ record that almost just got me toppling over into the ditches of Devil’s Corner?” You roll your eyes, but a smile creeps onto your face.

“You’re alive, aren’t you?” he grins, then he pulls his attention fully to the finish line up ahead. It’s close enough now that the crowd is visible, and he salutes them with a quick flick of his hand. 

God, he’s so hot when he’s like this. How lazily arrogant his entire racing persona is. You adore his softer side, of course you do, but this side of him gets your own motor running.

Yeonjun, however, isn’t ready to concede. He surges forward, lining up beside you both in a final, determined push, his car engine roaring with a fury that sends chills down your spine. You see him shoot a glare, not just at Jaeyun, but at you as well. But Jaeyun merely returns the look, cool and unbothered, and then, with one final roar of his engine, he edges past the line first, a triumphant laugh escaping his lips.

Jaeyun’s car barrels across the finish line with a triumphant howl from the crowd, cheers blending with the echo of his engine as he cuts through the air, a living victory. The thrill radiates off him; he punches the air, letting out a victorious whoop as his foot remains steady on the accelerator. He finally glances over at you, his face alive with pure elation, his cocky grin fully in place. But instead of slowing down, he maintains his speed, the wind whipping through the car as you look back at the receding crowd.

"Wait - where are we going?" you ask confused, looking back as you pass by everyone and leaving them in the wake of victory.

Jaeyun flicks his gaze over, eyes dark with both mischief and longing. “I don’t know if you’ve forgotten, Y/N, but you still owe me my birthday present,” he says hick and low, each word like a steady drumbeat against your pulse.

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep your own voice steady. “Don’t you want to celebrate with everyone? You just won the Lucifers the grit track and Devil’s Corner.”

He lets out a laugh, deep and incredulous. “Celebrate with everyone else? Princess, I’d be out of my mind to spend one more second without seeing what you have for me. I would be fucking insane, actually.” He eyes you hungrily, already imagining all the possibilities under your dress or up your sleeve. His tongue brushes his bottom lip in a glazing swoop, a promise lingering in his gaze that leaves your cheeks feeling warmer than they should.

He shifts gears, and you glance back to see the track and the crowd becoming distant figures in the rearview mirror, your brother among them. “Besides,” Jaeyun adds, leaning closer as he cuts through the night, “Do you really wanna see Yeonjun right now?”

“...No.”

“Good, then trust me.”

_____

The car halts, tyres crunching over gravel as you take in the scene before you. Below the dark sky, the city sprawls out like a tacky but beautiful Christmas night with glittering lights, each window and streetlamp reminiscent of a fairy light. Below, the river carves an almost silver line through it all, shimmering under the moonlight. It’s too beautiful for you to describe and give it the credit it deserves.

Jaeyun doesn’t speak at first. His hand finds yours, fingers slipping through as he releases a slow, steady breath. He wasn’t aware how badly his muscles were suffocating his bones until now. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, an absent yet soothing gesture, and he finally lets himself relax, the hard lines of his jaw softening as he looks at you. The moonlight catches his features, highlighting the relief etched on his face - a look so different from the racer who stared down Devil’s Corner only 20 minutes ago.

For a moment, you both just sit there, silently letting the thrill of the night settle. You turn to him, sensing his guard finally lowered, his eyes holding something warmer, deeper than his usual confident smirk.

“It’s so pretty here,” you murmur softly, nodding towards the city.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, bringing your lips to his hand and kissing your knuckles softly, the tingle from the spark shooting all over your body. “I’d say the view is pretty fucking perfect.”

A blush creeps on your face, his eyes glued onto you as he mumbles the words into your skin, each syllable fluttering to your heart. Of course, he means you. He has seen this exact city view a million times, often coming up here after races to cool off and regather himself. 

It’s the first place he drove to once he heard about Mingi.

It’s the first place he drove to once he met you.

It’s the first time he’s shown someone this spot.

Letting go of your hand, he quickly offers you a small smile before undoing his seatbelt. “C’mon, let's get a closer look.”

With that, you follow him and you both settle against the hood of the car, your shoulders brushing as you take in the sprawling lights below, wrapped in the quiet of the moment. The city glows, pulsing like a heartbeat, life so obvious yet subtle. You tilt your head toward him and nudge him softly.

“So,” you say, half-smiling, “how does it feel?”

“What?” 

“Winning the grit track.”

He shrugs, and his gaze becomes distant, falling somewhere into the night. The silence stretches on, but it’s comfortable, the city’s buzz helping to fill the contemplative silence between words. 

“I don’t care,” he murmurs, surprising you into a pause.

“What do you mean?” you ask, caught off guard. After all, this entire night was about winning the territory, claiming a stake over it and expanding the Lucifers’ ground. It sounds like a shitty action movie on Tubi now that you think about it, but that really is what the crews strive for. So for Jaeyun to say he doesn’t care, when he did what his past leaders couldn’t, throws you for a new one.

“The track…he can keep it,” Jaeyun says with a dismissive wave, almost as if he’s letting go of a heavy burden. “It was never about winning a stupid bit of dirt road.” He pauses, biting his lip as he searches for the right words. “I wanted to prove that TC had something to do in Mingi’s accident.”

The words leave his mouth in a rush, and you feel the weight of his pain and loyalty colliding in that confession. Jaeyun’s gaze stays trained on the city, brow furrowed, his jaw set, the ease on his bones only lasting the skip of a jump rope. 

He truly believes that Yeonjun was involved - that he orchestrated some plan to knock Mingi out. You’ve seen Jaeyun’s loyalty; you know Mingi is more than a friend to him, practically family, and Jaeyun’s heart has no room to consider the idea that Mingi could’ve just…lost control.

You scoot closer, placing a gentle hand on his arm, sensing how vulnerable this confession has left him. “Look, Jaeyun,” you start, hesitating. “I don’t believe my brother would do something like that. But just because you made it through Devil’s Corner safely this time doesn’t rule out anything, yeah? There’s still a chance he had nothing to do with it…but maybe he did.”

He looks at you, contemplation written in the lines around his eyes, but doubt remains.

“I just can’t accept that it was some accident, you know?” he finally says, his voice tight with frustration. “Mingi was solid. The guy could practically drive in his sleep, and suddenly he spins out there?” His shoulders tense as he talks, each word laced with an anger born of grief and unresolved questions. He wants answers, and you sense how deeply he’s embedded in this conviction.

“Okay, so what if…” You hesitate, not truly believing the words coming out of your mouth right now, but knowing Jaeyun needs something to hold onto his faith in Mingi. “What if Yeonjun did have something to do with Mingi’s accident? He could have been planning it tonight but called it off because I was in the car with you?” 

Biting the inside of his cheek, Jaeyun lets out a harsh laugh, but it’s not at you. “Then I could have got you fucking hurt, and what kind of man does that make me?”

It’s as if any reasoning or justification for his actions has suddenly all surged to his mouth and left a bitter taste, one that he finds hard to coat over with some mints. In his mind, he convinced himself for the moment that he was saving you, but in actuality, maybe he was just protecting himself. 

He could have lost you.

That though makes him stand up and walk closer to the cliff edge, not enough to cause you alarm, but enough that indicates he’s in the need of feeling free from his mind.

And that’s something you can definitely help with.

Pushing yourself off the car, you reach out to him, lacing your arms around his waist as you hug him tightly from behind. Instantly, he cups your linked hands in his and melts into you, closing his eyes in relief as you kiss his back ever so gently.

“We can’t know what happened that night, Jaeyun, no one ever will. But it’s also not your battle.”

“But I-”

“No. End of story.” You twist him around to face you, your hands dipping your hands into his back pockets. “Mingi and Yeonjun raced that night, the outcome was what it was, and we have to move on. The longer we sit in the past, in this mindset of what if and what could have been, you prolong everyone’s pain, especially yours. And I won’t sit back and watch you do it.”

It’s tough, and you wish you could have laid it all out a little more prettily, but a dagger of truth won’t sink into skin if it’s covered in padding and fluff. 

Jaeyun’s eyes portray a man trying to will himself to argue with you, that fight for his friend still very much alive. Yet, he knows you’re right. He isn’t helping himself by wallowing in the past, he’s only hurting himself and creating a deeper hole in his chest, one that is consuming him alive.

But no one has told him to get the fuck over it. Not until now.

“I know for a fact that Mingi does not want you dwelling on it, especially not tonight. You won the grit track, I’d say he’ll be over the moon with that, wouldn’t you?”

The last nudge is enough to make Jaeyun nod, a small smile creeping on his face. “Yeah. I saw him before the race and all he asked was ‘don’t fucking die and get us that track’.”

“See? You achieved both of those requests, I would say that’s worth celebrating,” you grin widely up at him, relieved to see his jaw loosen and shoulders unravel themselves. “It’s also your birthday…which is another reason to celebrate.”

Jaeyun checks his watch and sucks in a breath, his playful demeanour slowly coming back to the surface, much to your delight. “It’s actually past my birthday now.”

Widening your eyes, you drag his wrist to your face, reading the clock's arms as they disappointingly read 12:04am. The sadness is plastered all over your face, your eyes looking glassy due to both regret and the cold wind nipping them. 

Jaeyun immediately notices your solemn expression and pouts, holding back a laugh. “Princess, it’s okay.”

“It’s not. I didn’t even get to give you your presents.” You are never one for being late with gifts, in fact, you take birthdays so seriously that gifts are often in your friend’s hands early in the morning. Every birthday is precious to you, well, maybe not your own, but you love to make others feel appreciated and seen on the one day that is reserved for them. 

The racer looks at his watch again and reaches for the dial, twisting it back as the small arrow rounds anti-clockwise to the 11. Happily, he flashes the watch’s face in front of yours. “Look, now it’s 11:05pm. You have 55 minutes left.”

A laugh bursts out of you, the heartache over the small inconvenience now lifted by his antics. He always knows what to do, what to say, how to lift you up so easily, it’s his superpower. 

“Okay, which one do you want first?” you step back and place your hand on your hips, exhaling the drama from tonight out of your system. No more racing, no more brother, no more bad thoughts. Just you and Jaeyun celebrating the final hour of his birthday.

“There’s more than one?” he asks in a smug tone. 

“There are three in total. One is your main present and two are tiny little things,” you explain.

Nodding, Jaeyun feigns ponder as he taps his chin. “Well, I think I should save my main for last, so let’s start with the ‘tiny little things’” he repeats back to you, knowing that they won’t in fact be tiny, their significance probably vastly bigger than any other gift he has ever received throughout his previous 21 birthdays.

Holding up a finger, you tell him to wait before you open the right backseat door of his car and retrieve two carefully wrapped gifts. You put in far too much effort in folding each corner perfectly and twirling every bow to sit neatly, but looking at your work now, you can safely say it was all worth it.

Confusion crosses Jaeyun’s pretty face as he points to his car. “When did you sneak into my car and put them in there?” he asks with piqued confusion. He would notice bright yellow wrapping paper with orange ribbons in a minute, the colours bouncing so brightly off his black interior.

“I didn’t,” you shrug as you confess, holding out the two gifts. “I shoved them both under my seat when you paid for the gas yesterday.”

“Your seat, huh?” he repeats with a lace of amusement, taking the top box from your grasp.

“Well, do you drive other women about?”

“Don’t ask fucking ridiculous questions. You’re the only girl.” 

You curse your stomach for flipping out like it’s on an Alton Towers ride, the statement probably meaning nothing significant from his lips. He always says pass away comments like that, and each one you desperately try not to read into too much, your heart having a hard time already with calling this relationship between you both casual, never mind your brain popping up with conspiratorial thoughts that he could see you as something more than his non-girlfriend.

Gently, his hands peel the wrapping paper off, and reveal the first gift. 

“Lollipops?” he laughs out, though joy shines from his features. 

“Well I saw you were running low, and it is my fault you need to stock up on them, so…” you explain sheepishly, your foot carving out nonsense lines in the gravel.

Since you started hooking up, Jaeyun quit smoking. You hate the taste of the cigarette on his tongue and the smell of it in his car, and he caught onto that instantly. The way you would spray your perfume ‘randomly’ after he flicked the butt out his window, or how you offered him a chewing gum coincidently a few minutes before you climbed into his lap and licked into his mouth. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure it out. 

So he stopped. Cold turkey without a second thought. He still had the itch though, muscle memory constantly bringing something to his lips for a drag. That’s when you gave him a strawberry Chupa Chups and he never looked back. His dentist hates you for it, but his doctor couldn’t be more delighted. 

Taking a cola lollipop from the assorted selection, he unwraps it and places it into his mouth, humming as the beautiful taste hits his tastebuds. His tongue swirls the ball of goodness and he instantly smiles at your reaction, deciding to play on it.

You curse him, his smirk widening as he rolls his eyes and opens his mouth just wide enough for you to watch the cola lolly get coated in his saliva, his tongue enveloping it the exact same way he does with your clit when he’s buried face first between your thighs.

Squeezing your legs together in order to stop the flow of arousal from dripping down your leg, you thrust the other present into his chest, retrieving the box of lollipops from him in the process. The further these things are from his mouth right now, the better.

“Okay, now this one,” you urge, clearing your throat and hating the way he pushes the sweet to the side of his mouth, the stick pocking out the corner of his mouth like a toothpick. Somehow, it only made him hotter, like Heath Ledger in 10 Things I Hate About You.

God, now you’re even more horny.

Jaeyun nods and flips the gift over, inspecting what it could possibly be. But he’s never been good at guessing, so he quickly tears the paper off, a little more forcefully than the lollipops. A black box adds another layer of suspense and curiosity. “Did you get me a diamond necklace?” he jokes, but once he peels open the lid, nothing is funny anymore.

His eyes flicker between you and the gift. “Y/N…”

“It’s not much, I know. But I thought it was fun,” you explain, scared that it’s not enough.

Picking it from the box, Jaeyun inspects it carefully. To most, it’s just a keyring, but to him, it’s the most thoughtful gift he has ever been given. The mini replica of his precious car, clearly hand-decorated by you stands out - the red decals and perfectly selected interior act as a mirror to the real thing; even the license plate has his famous J4K3YUN etched into it. The black Honda Civic replica sits so tiny yet powerful in his hands. 

It was the first car he could afford. Everyone laughed at him - even Mingi - when he turned up to his first race. It’s a shitty little car with not much horsepower, but considering he was only seventeen when he started racing, he could hardly afford to put his student loan into a BMW or Aston Martin. Instead, he modified it, just enough to put his name out there.

His baby has never let him down since. All those times everyone has pestered him to trade her in have never crossed his mind. Even you know how much she means to him. Why else would you have given him an oversized keyring of it?

You know him, and that squeezes Jaeyun’s throat, stopping him from expressing thanks.

“If you pop open the boot, it has something inside,” you point out, excited. He’s made modifications to the real thing, but you got crafty with the mini-me.

“Can anything even fit in this?” he laughs but nonetheless, opens the boot - and it is not what he was expecting. 

The interior has been prettily painted pastel pink, with glitter and gems perfectly placed inside, crowding the minuscule space. The first initials of your names are enveloped in a shakily drawn heart. It’s pretty and so very, very you.

Jaeyun’s eyes sparkle in the moonlight and you interpret it as pure adoration, injecting some pride into your chest. He likes it - thank fuck.

“I thought it was fun, since y’know, on the outside you’re all tough and metal but inside you’re just a sparkly pink princess.” You place the lollipop box on the hood and step closer, inspecting your work once more - as if you haven’t been scrutinizing every detail of it over the past month. 

Throwing his head back in a laugh, he blinks away the joy in his tear ducts and nods, sighing out in defeat. “I’m not so sure ‘princess’ is the word I’d use-” he starts, only for you to interrupt.

“Oh, you are,” you insist, taking the lollipop from his mouth and placing it in your own, “You’re the prettiest princess to ever exist, actually.”

“I think that title is reserved for you, baby,” he grins fondly, eyes raking over every feature of your face as you savour the taste of the cola sweet. “Thank you…so much, Y/N, no one has ever gotten me something so thoughtful. I really love-...it. A lot.” His throat tightens, words tangling up in his chest, but thankfully, you don’t seem to notice

Nodding, you give him a soft kiss, careful not to poke him with the lollipop stick, before taking the gift back, carefully placing it and the lollipops in the car for safekeeping. “Now, do you want your big present?” You wiggle your brows and shut the car door, almost skipping back to your spot in front of him.

Jaeyun was so caught up with everything tonight that he forgot that this was the reason he whisked you away as soon as the race ended, at least, it was the shallow reason. The deeper reason is something he won’t speak out into the night air.

Placing his hands on your hips, glides his hands up and down your sides, the warmth from his palms blissfully welcome. You love this dress, the way you feel in it, how it makes you look, but it isn’t exactly good for fighting the nipping cold away, especially considering the wind is much thinner up on the cliff.

“My big present…” he repeats, bringing his face down to yours, his hot breath creating a rose tint along your cheeks. “I think I want that more than anything right now.” His confession is raw and more than surface-level lust. He has so many emotions running through his body right now, and he knows that your present is going to be exactly what he needs.

“You need to unwrap it then.” The smirk on your face is contagious and your voice is low. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what your gift is, but he’s in for a treat nonetheless.

Jaeyun does pause for a moment, his hands fiddling with your zipper at the back but hesitant. “I think my gift might freeze to death if I unwrap it here, don’t you think?” 

You hadn’t…thought about that actually. To be honest, when it comes to Jaeyun’s cock, that’s probably the only thing you think about. Rain or shine, snow or fog; if his dick is close to being inside of you, you’ll face any weather.

His fingers pinch the zipper and tug it down slowly, the winter air biting up your spine, but the shivers that are rippling through your body aren’t from freezing; the opposite in fact. The ghost of his fingertip creates a heated surge through your body, your skin igniting with pure desire. 

Pushing the dress off your shoulders, your tits are laid bare in front of him, nipples hard and much more delicous than any lollipop Jaeyun could ever suck. They’re perfect, so perfect that he has a hard time putting his love for them into words.

“No bra?” he asks cheekily, that cocky boy everyone loves swimming to the surface of the night. 

Shaking your head, you close your eyes as he cups them delicately. “Dress didn’t look right with it.”

“Is that the only reason?” Jaeyun’s thumbs flick over your hardened buds as he backs you up to the hood, you ass perched against the edge, a welcomed seat considering your legs could turn to jelly at any moment.

Truth be told, it was the main reason you didn’t wear a bra, with the tightness of the dress, it didn’t allow much more room for any extra padding. But you can’t lie and say that you also didn;t adorn one because it would save time.

“I’ll take your silence as confirmation, will I?” he murmurs, his lips grazing the hollow of your throat before travelling down, sending waves of warmth through you with each kiss.

You feel the cool press of the hood beneath you as he lifts you up to perch you, his mouth finally closing around one of your nipples now you’re at the perfect height, his tongue tracing lazy, agonising circles that make your breath catch. He shifts to the other, his gaze flicking up to meet yours as he bites gently, eyes smouldering with a dark intensity that only makes you want him more. 

With each flick of his tongue, your mind fogs over, the chill of the night air long forgotten. His mouth leaves a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses as he works his way down, fingers slipping under the fabric gathered at your hips, thumbs tracing soothing lines along your waist.

“Are these new?” he hikes your dress up so only your waist is covered and your new panties are on full display for him. It’s incredible how he noticed initially through touch alone, his mind cataloguing each thong, brief, and lacey panty you own. 

“Yeah, got them a few days ago.” You don’t need to tell him that you bought them specifically for his birthday, he will know just by the Ivory colour alone.

A playful smirk curves on his lips as he takes in the sight of your new lingerie, his fingers grazing over the delicate lace with a possessive tenderness. “I thought so,” he murmurs, voice low and almost reverent as his thumb hooks under the fabric, dragging it down with aching slowness, leaving your cunt exposed, yet you feel anything but vulnerable.

There is a thrill of anticipation that crackles between you as his hands linger, his thumb tracing a line along your thigh. You’re so consumed with how close he is to your heat that you almost miss his other hand coming up to remove the cola lolly from your mouth. 

“Open up,” he instructs, which you blindly follow, releasing the delicious treat from your mouth. “Good girl. Now, spread open for me.”

“Jaeyu-”

“It’s my birthday, Princess. I still have,” he checks his rewound watch, “36 minutes left, so until then, you gotta do what I say, yeah?” 

That sounds perfect to you if you weren’t aware of how much of a tease he is. He’s going to torture you on the hood of his car, you know it, but you relent anyway, giving him a sharp nod and breathing out slowly.

Your legs spread wide, your feet finding stability on his bumper. The compromising position could mean anything, your mind flashing with all the possibilities of what he could do to you.

And by fuck, does he have a sweet, sweet plan.

A glint of mischief flickers in his gaze as he tilts the lollipop, the cola sweet glistening in the moonlight as he brings it down to hover just above your entrance. The sticky sweetness clings to the night air, and you feel your body tense with anticipation, each nerve heightened by the thrill of surrendering control.

He runs the candy along your inner thigh first, slow and deliberate, leaving a faint, sugary trail that he follows with his mouth. The coolness of the lollipop contrasts sharply with the warmth of his breath, sending shivers skittering up your spine as his lips and tongue trace after, claiming every inch of sweetness he’s left on your skin.

Finally, he presses the lollipop between your folds, teasingly dragging it up and down without quite giving you what you need, his eyes fixed on your reactions, devouring every tremor, every bite of your lip and jerk of your hips as the lollipop circles your clit. The sensation is maddening, the blend of sticky from the sweet and your own juices only heightens the ache building within you, and he seems to revel in the slow, torturous rhythm he’s set. He wants to take his time.

The lolly ghosts your entrance before he presses it ever so slightly inside, your breath hitching at the unexpected sensation. His mouth follows close behind, claiming you with a slow, deliberate kiss that has your toes curling against the bumper, his tongue tracing the sweetness lingering on your skin.

A wave of heat radiates through you as Jaeyun continues his maddeningly slow pace, the lollipop pressed just at your entrance, teasing and coaxing you in a way that has your pulse racing, much like how it was when you were near death on Devil’s Corner. 

He dips the lollipop in a little further, the rounded edge pressing in just enough to make you gasp and claw at his car bonnet, and then he draws it back out, running it up and over your clit with agonising patience. The pressure of the sweet gliding over your most sensitive spot has you squirming, but his hands are firm on your thighs, keeping you right where he wants you.

“Hold still,” he murmurs, a wicked smile curving on his lips as he swirls the lollipop slowly, tracing lazy circles that leave you breathless. The candy, now coated in your own slick, sends shockwaves through you, and you feel yourself clenching, trying to draw him deeper, desperate for more. Jaeyun seems to notice, and he chuckles softly, his warm breath tickling against your inner thigh.

With one last, lingering drag of the candy over your clit, he brings it to his mouth, sucking in the mix of flavours. Your sweetness mixing on his tastebuds with the cola makes his eyes roll and contemplate opening up a business just for him that sells pussy flavoured lollies. Specifically, your pussy, of course.

“You’re fucking delicious, Princess,” he moans out, sucking the pop with fervour. You’re so jealous and you curse ever buying him them. But not really, the scene of his tongue lapping it up eagerly, mixed with the saliva that's glistening on his lips only adds a series of precious memories that you can happily store in your wank bank.

Threading your fingers through his hair, you tug at it just rough enough for him to growl. “Please, I’m trying to cum for you before your birthday ends.”

“Yeah?” he huffs out a laugh and tosses the almost obsolete lolly away, the stick hidden by the gravel that swallows it. “I can make that happen.”

“Good-”

“If you beg.”

You freeze, resisting the urge to tell him to go fuck himself. If there is one thing you hate most in the world, it’s begging for a man. You can submit to Jaeyun, sure, that’s easy enough. But there’s something so humiliating about having to plead for your own pleasure. He never makes you beg, usually too fucking impatient himself to play that game, so this is not exactly in your forte.

“I’m not begging. No way.” You cross your arms and shake your head adamantly. 

Jaeyun’s smirk widens as he sees your defiance, his gaze darkening with something that borders on both amusement and challenge. “Really now?” he murmurs as his thumb traces slow circles on your inner thigh, inching achingly close but not quite where you want him. “You’re gonna stand by that?”

His eyes roam over you, taking in the way your body reacts despite your stubbornness, and you can feel the tension building in the air as he leans in, his lips hovering just above your core, close enough for you to feel the heat of his breath. The anticipation sends shivers racing over your skin, but you keep your arms crossed, refusing to relent. 

“I know you hate it. You’re so powerful, baby. I adore that about you,” he continues in a low murmur, voice laced with a teasing edge, “But just once, for me?” He pouts, bottom lip overtaking his entire face and somehow making him look even more irresistible.

That fucking pout.

With a small laugh, he shifts down, pressing soft and tongue-focused kisses along your thighs, each one closer than the last. His breath is warm, and you can feel the control slipping from you with every careful movement.

“Fine,” you say finally, voice barely more than a whisper, “Please, eat me out.” 

“Come on, Princess. If you’re going to beg, I want to hear you properly.”

“Jaeyun,” you whine, already flushing up with embarrassment.

“How about,” his mouth places one feather-light kiss on your clit, a gasp of pleasure drawing from your lips, “I beg you to beg me? Then we’re both on the same boat.” 

Now, while you don’t like to beg, you love to hear Jaeyun beg. There have been countless times when you’re on your knees, much like he is now, and your mouth is a hairline away from his tip, and he’s thrashing under you, moaning out pleas and needs in a higher pitch, wanting nothing more than you to consume his painfully hard cock in his mouth.

Jaeyun doesn’t have humility when he is with you, he’ll scratch and claw at the bedsheets, whine out your name in desperation, and have you take full control if you want to. You wish you could be more like that, because fuck does it look beautiful, and you know he will love it if you’re a crying, pleading mess under him. 

It would be the perfect birthday gift, actually.

So with a heavy sigh, you close your eyes and clear your throat. “Okay. But only if you go first.”

Jaeyun smirks and rubs some heat back into your legs. With soft, kitten-like licks, he plays between your folds, giving you an inch of what's to come. “Princess, please beg for me. I’ve been such a good birthday boy, have I not? I need to hear you want me, the same way I need you. This pretty pussy deserves to be devoured, and I can only do that if you beg for it. Please, baby. Pretty please with a lollipop on top.”

God, he is so fucking good at it. Somehow he still sounds so strong and assured even when you can hear the cracks in his voice and the tremble on his lips. His hips buck the air, mimicking what he wants to do with you, his cock leading him, thinking with his second head.

Whimpering, you look down to see him adorning that pretty pout once again, and you crumble.

“I nod. Jaeyun…please make my cum on your tongue, let me give you the best birthday gift. I want you to lap me up and never stop, make you remember this birthday for the rest of your life. Please, baby.”

You don’t cringe, instead letting your desperation take charge, which gladly works. Jaeyun groans loudly at your filthy words as they echo over the cliff, giving the city indication of what’s taking place. His cock is so painfully hard against his jeans that he wonders if it has the ability to tear through the material like Hulk when he transforms. It certainly feels like it could.

“Good girl,” he praises, before giving you what you crave.

Connecting his mouth to your core, his skilled tongue has you keening, head falling back against the car hood as he licks a broad, firm stroke from your entrance to your clit. His lips close around you, his tongue flicking and swirling as he loses himself in the taste of you, his hands spreading your thighs even wider to hold you firmly in place.

He slurps and devours you, humming into your hole in pure lust. Jaeyun loves nothing more than being buried in pussy, he could spend the rest of his life between thighs, your thighs. The added tints of cola still lingering on your skin only heighten his arousal, the sweet tang mixture enough for him to dig his nails into your thighs and bury further in.

Arching your back, your thighs fight his grip as they try and clamp around his head, the way his tongue dips into your hole, rimming it with teasing strokes before shooting back in makes your head dizzy, the November air suddenly feeling like a July breeze - welcomed and just right.

“Fuck,” you hiss out as he bites at your folds, dragging the sensitive flesh between his teeth, another way of tormenting you yet giving you everything you could want. His bottom teeth drag up to your clit with his puffy bottom lip trailing behind it like a soothing balm. 

You’re starting to wonder whether it’s his birthday or yours.

With precision, Jaeyun latches onto your clit and suddenly, you’re seeing more stars in the sky, body lurching forward as you trap him there. The tension coils tightly in your stomach, and he takes his time, alternating between sucking and licking, bringing you right to the edge and pulling back just before you can tip over, savouring every second of your mounting need.

“Jaeyun, please…” you gasp, fingers threading through his hair, and he hums against you, sending a shudder through your entire body. 

“See? You can beg so easily,” he mocks playfully, smirking as your thighs act as earmuffs. Despite the barricade, he can still hear every plea and mewl that falls from your lips, indicating that you’re close.

So, he picks up the pace, his hands gripping under your ass to push you further into his face. His round nose nuzzles your nub as his tongue swirls around inside your cunt, the tip of his tongue committing every bump and nook to memory - not like he hasn’t already. He knows everything about you, that’s what happens when you spend seven months doting on and worshipping the same person.

Grabbing tightly onto his hair, you feel the knot in your stomach begin to pull apart, the threads of rope straining as your climax tugs. “I’m cumming…fuck, Jaeyun,” you warn, but it’s not breaking news to the man causing the euphoria. He’s licking, sucking, and biting with ferocity because he knows you’re falling apart

He hums against you, the sound vibrating through your body, his tongue flicking over you with such skill it has you trembling. “Come on, Princess. Let go for me,” he whispers, his words like a command, and your body is happy to obey.

And then, it hits you - the release crashing through you, sending shudders of pleasure through every nerve in your body. You can’t stop it, your back arching as you clutch at his hair, your thighs trembling as the wave washes over you, and Jaeyun doesn’t stop. He keeps going, worshipping you like he’s addicted to your taste, drawing out every last drop of your orgasm.

Your chest heaves and your body goes limp as he cleans your pussy, making sure he takes every drop of his birthday gift. You taste heavenly, your cum swirling in his mouth as he slurps and sucks, the shocks jolting up your spine each time he nudges over your clit.

Once your legs release his head, he glances up at you through his thick lashes, mouth covered in your essence. “Thank you, baby,” he praises, his chest filled with a cocktail of emotions, the first as foremost one being adoration. “With 10 minutes to spare too,” he laughs, glancing at his watch.

Jaeyun stands up, kissing you with passion. He transfers your juices onto your mouth and you groan at the taste. All those days of downing pineapple and cranberry juice always pay off. His tongue licks yours, taking over your entire mouth as he claims you. His lips are sweet but his touch is anything but, you know he’s desperate, if his actions weren’t enough, the painful bulge that’s bucking into your sensitive folds is enough to tell you.

Swiftly, your hands move to his buckle, undoing it amongst the breathtaking kisses. It doesn’t take you more than a minute to undo his jeans and push them just low enough that his ass is on full display and his hard shaft can spring free. His cock is so pretty, like a work of art; six inches of pure joy. You’ve lost count of how many times this cock has made you come undone, the curve of it hitting perfectly into your cunt, like it was made for you. In some ways, you think it is.

Spreading your legs once again, you wrap your hand around his cock, the heat from it a stark contrast to your still cold hands. The sensation elicits a hiss from the birthday boy, his lips pulling from yours as he looks down. Your hand just fits around his length, and that makes his tip twitch. He’s proud of his size, but somehow he loves it even more when in the clasp of your fingers.

You press it against your wet core and he loses any sense of control he had left.

With a primal growl, he grabs your hips and lines up at your entrance, not even bothering to tease you. Between your outfit, the rush of the race, your cries of pleasure from his tongue work, and the overwhelming tightness in his heart, he needs to be inside you. Now.

Jaeyun slides in fully with one thrust, both of you creating a beautiful harmony of moans that echo like a choir in the night. His cock fills you up to the brim, his balls sitting comfortably against your ass. You feel like fucking heaven, in fact, if he was to die right now, he would do so happily. Those pearl gates could only mirror the happiness and alleviation that he feels as he buried himself to the hilt inside your warm hole.

His forehead rests on your shoulder, his lips peppering a succession of kisses just above your collarbone as he begins to move his hips, eyes rolling to the back of his head with each bump of your walls hugging him.

“Jesus fucking christ, Princess,” he mumbles, officially lost in the act of pleasure. He’s not thinking about anything else, just how your wet heat feels enveloping him.

You can’t say your thoughts aren’t also only consumed by the tip of his cock poking your cervix so deliciously, his balls slapping against you almost mimicking a spank each time. His thrusts pick up pace and you both lose yourselves in one another, chanting praises and curses to convey your feelings.

Jaeyun’s hands roam over your body as his cock pounds into you, switching from holding your hips in place to kneading your breasts, each one serving their own purpose. He wants you still so he can keep hitting that perfect spot over and over again, the squishy spec in your cunt his main target, but your tits bouncing in the moonlight keep distracting him, his cock losing power as his brain gets clouded in the movements.

“You’re so beautiful, Princess,” he confesses, kissing the valley between your breasts. “So, so beautiful.”

Your heart hammers harder, the pulse resounding in your ear as you smile gratefully. “So are you, Jaeyun.” And you mean it. He’s the most beautiful person inside and out, you’re never going to meet anyone like him again, and that’s what terrifies you.

Jaeyun locks his eyes on yours, his hips finding a new determined rhythm. He presses his forehead against yours, nuzzling his nose with yours in a kiss. How is it possible to feel so adored and cherished by a man you have no label with? That’s the question running through your mind as you stare into his soul, begging for him to answer.

And in some way, he does. His pupils shine with nothing but your reflection, showing just how deeply you're ingrained in him. Though neither of you may voice exactly what this is, you both know it.

As you lose yourselves in each other, that familiar coil tightens low in your belly, heat pooling with a desperate need for release. You dig your nails into Jaeyun's shoulders and bury your face in his neck, signalling you're close.

Gripping your waist, he matches your rhythm, pushing you both to the edge—metaphorically this time, thankfully. He's already brought you close enough to danger tonight; there’s no need to test fate again.

"Come on, baby. Cum for me," he urges, jaw clenched as he holds back his own release. He’s never been one to finish before his girl.

With his coaxing and the delicious sensation of him deep inside, you reach your climax once more, this time more intense than you expected. You bite down on his neck to muffle your moans, and like a domino, he spills into you. 

His white ropes soothe your cunt, painting your walls with his adoration of you. The best decision you ever made was getting an IUD. You know it’s not full protection, but for the feeling of his seed filling you up like a cream piping bag, you’re willing to take the risk.

Jaeyun holds you close, his breath mingling with yours as both of you come down from the high, eyes blazing secret confessions into one another. The steady thud of his heart under your palm feels grounding, almost comforting in the quiet aftermath. You shift slightly, feeling his warmth begin to fade in the cool night air, yet he doesn’t let you go just yet, keeping you wrapped up in him.

“Happy birthday,” you whisper softly, letting your lips brush against his jaw, a faint smile tugging at your mouth. 

Mirroring your expression, he melts into your pepper kisses as you trail down his neck, paying extra attention to the skin you marked up with your canines. His large hands glide up your back and hold you close to him. “Thank you.” It’s simple, but he’s biting his tongue, the moment too perfect to destroy with his post-nut brain.

You sense his apprehension and lean back, gazing into his eyes and studying the specs of his brain that you can make out. “You okay? You’re usually cracking out a joke by now,” you ask playfully, but there’s an undercurrent of concern in your tone.

Jaeyun bites his lips together, preparing himself to possibly make the biggest mistake of his life. He pulls out of you, jerking his cock clean enough that he can get away with it, before tucking it back into his trousers. 

Oh no.

Your mind does everything to convince you that this isn’t going to end the way you think it will. The efforts to soothe your racing mind falter just at the finish line. This is it. He’s going to hit you with the ‘this has been fun but it’s not what I want anymore’ or ‘hey, so this was great but you’re not what i’m looking for’. Whatever concoction of those sentences he wants to spin, you know it’s going to hurt. You’re in too deep.

And you would much rather be humiliated with your clothes on. So you jump off the hood of the car, your slick glistening in the night lights like a snail trail. Suddenly, the acts you just took part in have turned from euphoric to sickly.

“Listen-”

“I meant it,” he interrupts, not even letting you end this before he can. “I really mean it when I say you’re the only girl for me.”

You’re waiting on the but, yet it never comes. Instead, he’s biting his lip nervously, looking at you but not into your eyes, his focus on your forehead like a sniper in the woods. And you feel like you’ve been shot, just not in the hurtful way you were expecting, it’s almost like you’re on the receiving end of a blank and the shock is ringing in your ears more than anything.

You stand dumbfounded, zipping up your dress at the back. “Huh?” It’s stupid and not what you want to ask, but your flabber has been gasted.

Jaeyun groans and rubs over his face. “I don’t want anyone else. And I know you’re annoyingly loyal to Yeonjun, but I can’t pretend that this isn’t more than what it is.” He steps forward and cups your flushed face, the cold now settling upon it once again. “I. Love. You. I have for fucking months, and…I don’t know, I can’t keep pretending I don’t.”

I. Love. You.

It’s such a simple and common phrase, yet hearing it in his accent, from his mouth, directed at you, you find it foreign. 

Jaeyun hates the silence that follows, the horns from the cars down below act like a mocking laugh to the moment. He knows its risky, confessing his feelings so bluntly, but if he had to keep them in any longer then he might have buried them forever and harboured an even deeper resentment towards himself and your brother.

“You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place, I get that. But can we call a spade a spade and admit that we love each other?” He insists, now finding his confidence. Go big or go home, he supposes. He’s convinced you love him too, you look at him the way he does you, and even if it’s only a tiny speckle of love that you hold for him, he needs you to admit it. For his sanity, and yours.

You can’t process a single thought beyond his words, their weight pressing down on you, making it impossible to breathe for a second. The world falls quiet around you, the buzzing city and distant hum of traffic fading as your mind hones in on his face, the intensity of his gaze, the subtle quiver of his lip as he waits.

“Jaeyun,” you manage, though it barely comes out above a whisper, “This isn’t…this isn’t exactly what we agreed on.” Stupid. Why the fuck are you saying that NOW.

“I know, but I also know you feel it too.” His thumb moves tenderly across your cheek, brushing over the spot where a tear might fall if you let it. “And if there’s even the slightest chance that you feel what I feel, I just need to know.” He pauses, his voice softening as he meets your gaze fully. “Because you’re it for me. I’m tired of pretending I don’t want to be with you completely. You deserve to be loved, and although I might not deserve to be the one to give you that, I want to try.”

You want to look away, to retreat and give yourself a chance to think, but his eyes are pleading with you to stay present, to face this. And the truth is, in some corner of your heart that you've tried to ignore, you know what he's saying is true.

But Yeonjun…If he finds out, he’ll never forgive you. It’s one thing to be in a fun fling with his rival, it’s another to be completely and utterly head over heels for the boy.

The silence is thick, but there’s an odd comfort in it. You reach up, covering his hand with yours, grounding yourself in his warmth. “I don’t want to lose you,” you murmur, voice trembling. “And I…I don’t know how we’d make it work without hurting Yeonjun.”

Jaeyun’s grip tightens, his confidence anchoring you. “I’ll make it work. I’ll do everything to make sure he accepts it. I’ll step down as the Lucifer’s leader, I’ll get on my knees and beg, baby I will do whatever it takes to get him on our side. I don’t want to come between you both, I know how precious he is to you, and you to him,” he pauses, breathing out and collecting his thoughts before he goes on a desperate faffing rant, his point losing focus. “I love you, and that means loving every part of you.”

“In the car…” you begin, voice unsure, “You said something about how Yeonjun would become your family, you meant-”

“Yeah, listen. Don’t freak out about that. I was jumping the gun with that one…but I mean, is it so unplausible? For us to be together? To imagine a future with you?”

“There’s a big difference between jumping into dating and leaping into marriage, Jaeyun.”

“Okay? So we’ll hold back on the leaping for now,” he laughs, pressing his forehead to yours, “but tell me you’ll jump.”

His breath mingles with yours, warm and steadying, grounding you in a way that makes your hesitation falter. "Jaeyun," you begin, your voice so soft it barely carries the weight of what you’re feeling. "It’s terrifying to even think about, you know that, right? Yeonjun is…he's been there my whole life, my protector, my brother…you’re asking me to risk that.”

"I know." He cups your face, his thumb tracing slow, tender circles along your cheek, calming and reassuring. "And I wouldn't ask you if I didn’t believe with every part of me that we’re worth it. But I’m not going anywhere until you’re ready; whether that’s now, or tomorrow, or a hundred years from now. I’m in this, Y/N. All the way. I just need you to say yes."

Your lips part, the words catching in your throat, suspended between the comfort of safety and the thrill of the unknown. Slowly, you reach out and lace your fingers through his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "Alright," you say, a tremor of nerves mingling with the glint of determination in your eyes. "I’ll jump…but you’d better catch me, Jaeyun."

A grin breaks across his face, and for a moment, everything else fades away; the rivalry, the fear, even Yeonjun. It’s just you and him, exactly how it should have been from the beginning.

"Always," he whispers, voice filled with quiet conviction. Then he closes the distance between you, sealing your promise with a kiss that’s soft, lingering, and brimming with all the words neither of you dared to speak out loud.

But maybe it’s time you do

“I love you too, Jaeyun,” you confess, eyes boring into his heart.

His eyes widen for a split second, and you see the disbelief flicker across his face, not quite sure he heard you right. But then his gaze softens, and a smile breaks across his face, one so genuine and unguarded that it sends warmth flooding through you. His hand tightens around yours, squeezing his happiness into your veins and bones.

"You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that," he murmurs, brushing his thumb over your knuckles with a tenderness that leaves your heart aching. “I fucking love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.” He chants, kissing all over your face, causing you to scrunch up and laugh, attempting to push him away but failing - not that you’re going to complain about that.

There’s a sense of relief, a lightness you haven’t felt in so long, as if all the weight of secrecy and uncertainty has lifted. For once, you’re not worrying about the consequences, about what could go wrong or who might get hurt. Right now, it’s just you and him, and the truth laid bare between you.

“Yes, okay, we love each other! Enough!” you giggle between his million and one kisses.

His hand comes up to cradle your cheek, his fingers grazing your skin with reverence. “I’m never letting you go now, you realise that, don’t you?”

You nod, a smile creeping across your face, and pull him in for another kiss, this one filled with the promise of everything that lies ahead. “Oh I know. Just wait till I tell your crew,” you laugh, pushing him away. “‘Oh, Y/N, I love you sooooo much. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me-'”

Your imitation is cut short, his hand flying over your mouth as he suppresses a laugh, trying to portray fear that isn’t truly there. “C’mon! You can’t ruin my reputation like that,” he whines, giving you that signature pout. 

“Oh but I will-” Without warning, he picks you up, tossing you over his shoulder as he carried you to the backseat. “Jaeyun! Put me down!”

“I’m going to fuck every word and thought out of that pretty brain of yours so you never utter my soft side to a soul,” he playfully jabs, opening the backseat and tossing you inside.

“Well…I have a lot of thoughts…and words,” you reply, biting your lip as you settle across the seats, legs already accommodating for him.

“Then it’s gonna be a long night. I suppose I’ll need to turn my clock back some more, don’t you think?”

____

perm taglist: @immortalvee @sunpov @heeseungspookie @strawberrysavi @monstanctiny21

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@haechonly @berryblog @no-mannerism @jaehoonii

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@yawnazzz @st1llm0nster @woorcve @heeseungsbm

@star-hoon @heelee-01 @wonnienyang @alternativelix

@ikeuverse @dollyyun

[heesdove]

easy, ma – l.hs

꒰ 🍒 ꒱ ℒee ℋeeseung [희승] : 𝒟rabble!

𝓰enre. smut, fluff? .˚⊹ 𝓹airing. non-idol,,best friend heeseung x fem reader. ໒꒱ 𝔀arning(s). smut, pwp, consensual sex, petname use, praise, dirty talk, nipple play, soft dom!hee, sub!reader, piv, size training?, unprotected sex (wrap before u tap!). 𝔀ord 𝓬t. tba

��ynopsis .ᐟ size training with your best friend during a sleepover. <3

꒰ 💬 ꒱ 𝓶i 𝓷ote. this is my very first time writing smut, please understand that i may be incorrect in descriptions– feel free to correct me and offer your feedback!

if you enjoyed this fic, please like and reblog! it's always appreciated :)

enjoy, my lovely readers. xoxo, mi. ‹𝟹

as usual, the morning began with breakfast at your favorite café in town– headed to campus afterward for your only lecture of the day. once you'd completed class, you'd returned home to relax until your best friend texted you, granting permission for you to come over.

from there, it remained ordinary as you gathered your sleepover bag and keys, shortly arriving at heeseung's within the hour.

he'd greeted you at the front door, smile on his lips and pearly whites on display. "hey, babydoll." his voice was raspy, as though he'd awoken from a nap.

"you okay? you sound tired, hee." you commented in concern, your voice so incredibly soft and sweet to him.

with a clear of his throat, he brushed it off by muttering, "just a long day." to which led you to step inside, your shoes abandoned in the entryway.

of course, you'd made yourself at home in his small flat– hints of you sprawled across the boy's space considering how often you'd see one another. you made way into his bedroom, plopping your tote bag onto his messy, clothes-ridden floor.

however, the air seemed unusual, tense even, as heeseung entered the room behind you.

pivoting, you face the boy with a skeptical furrow of your brows, eyeing him up and down– to which he awkwardly remains still, nervously shifting from side to side.

"why're you so quiet, seung?" you question with slight worry, yet mostly confusion due to his atypical silent behavior.

"babydoll." he tries to interrupt, taking a step forward as you continue to interrogate him.

"are you sure everything's okay? do you need some alone time?–" you continued to blabber, to which the boy paused right in front of you, hands settling upon your waist.

"y/n." his low voice finally reaches your ears, causing you to glance up and meet his eyes.

"i'm okay, really. it's just.. not something we freely talk about." he eases your concern, only to pique your curiosity further.

"but 's bothering you?" you ask yet another question, causing him to let out a soft laugh– earning a hesitant, half nod from him.

"well... i suppose you could say that, doll." heeseung responds, his lips curved in a soft smile at your attentiveness to him. one of his hands reach to brush a strand of hair from your face.

"then let's talk about it." you blurt, unaware of the topic on the boy's mind at that very moment.

"oh, you want to?" he questions, eyes darkening as he bites the corner of his lip.

"if it helps, mm-hm!" you confirm in a quick hum, nodding your head in gesture.

"alright, let's talk about it." he agrees, his lips curving up into a mischevious smile.

"see that, sweetheart?" heeseung questions ever so softly, his breath fanning against the shell of your ear as he stands behind you. one of his arms encircled around your waist, the other extended from beneath your arm, phone in hand– your instagram story from hours ago on display.

"oh! my instagram story? mm-hm." you recognize the photo of you in a pair of petite sleep shorts and the zip-up hoodie you'd borrowed from him. "is it 'bout your hoodie? can give it back, hee." you try to make reason of why he'd be upset, misunderstanding completely.

" 'course not, baby. want you to keep it, actually." the boy responds with a low murmur, his lips lingering dangerously close to your neck.

"wait, then what's botherin' you?" your obliviousness would typically annoy the boy, but in this matter, he'd hoped for you to piece things together yourself.

he stepped even closer, his figure practically molded to yours.

and that's when you realize the issue at hand.

it leaves you speechless, how erected his cock is, from viewing just a mere photo of you.

"y/n, please. i understand if you don't want to do anything intimate with me, but i need to relieve myself because it's so painful." he admits with a soft grunt spilling past his lips, his hips rutting forward and pressing his erection against the plushness of your ass.

"no!" you protest, shifting in his hold to face him. "i– i mean no, as in don't do it by yourself." you add quickly, hoping to avoid any further misunderstanding.

"i'm sorry?" he mutters in confusion, his brows furrowing in surprise at your response.

"wanna help, hee. can make the pain go away." you reassure, reaching forward to palm him through the layers of his sweatpants and boxers.

earning another grunt from the boy, he breathlessly agrees with a small "fuck," and nod of his head.

and that's what led to you straddled upon heeseung's lap on his gaming chair, naked and bare for his gaze– a sight he'd never forget, forever engraved in his mind.

not even sank onto his mushroom tip, you stare up at him nervously. one of his hands rests beneath the plush of your ass, the other extended toward your right breast, pinching and twisting your nipple between his forefinger and thumb.

earning a whimper from your lips, the boy smiles at the sight of you visibly melting into his touch. "c'mon, baby. start with the tip, i know you can do it." he encourages in a gentle tone, continuing to pleasure you by fondling your chest.

" 'm scared, seung." you admit, exhaling as you decide to begin sinking down onto his cock, the stretch being uncomfortable– but bearable due to the fact it was only the tip.

"doing so good for me, angel." he hisses at the sensitivity, the bulb of his cock throbbing as your warm cavern enveloped him. "gonna have this pussy trained for me in no time." he adds, fighting the urge to buck his hips and rut into you successfully.

"mmph, hee." you babble in discomfort, remaining still for a moment before sinking down even further, half of his cock being swallowed up by your gunmy walls.

heeseung was evidently enjoying the experience, despite the delicious anticipation of filling you to the brim– his head thrown back as he groans, both hands now grasping your hips.

"easy, ma." he regains his bearings, returning his gaze to you as he tries to help you ease onto his thick cock.

gasping for breath, you decide to simply go for it– sinking all the way onto his size, hands grasping at his shoulders, biceps; anything to ground yourself through the pleaseurable pain.

it wasn't as though you'd never been dicked down before, just that you'd never encountered someone of heeseung's inches and girth.

"mm, you're so tight." heeseung comments, humming in satisfaction of finally being fully sucked inside of you. his hips buck, fucking his tip further past your gumminess.

"oh, fuck!" you release a high-pitched whimper, your lips parting in an 'o'.

"i know, ma. told you that you could take all that cock." he coos, fingers gripping the skin of your hips so hard that the flesh protrudes between his fingers.

it wasn't long before you'd begun to bounce against his lap, the squelching of his cock's constant enter and exit of your pussy sounding throughout the room.

between his groans and grunts, the boy continued to praise you, his newest little cockslut– only to elicit needy whines from your lips in return.

it was obvious that by the end of the night, he'd have you fucked to the brink of dumb.

[imfoive]

Trophy Husband - Chapter 3

Hyunjin x Reader (fem.) Genre: Arranged Marriage au!, Marriage of Convenience-ish, Romance, Angst, Frenemies-to-Lovers, NSFW mdni Warnings: mentions of extramarital affairs, implied masturbation, cursing, drinking, physical violence, crude language, somewhat proofread WC: 6.4k A/N: We're really getting into this story oof, I was so excited to share this chapter! Feedback, Reblogs, Likes are greatly appreciated! Happy reading! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: Two individuals with polar opposite lifestyles are thrown into an arranged marriage for the benefit of both their families, or so they claim. One is a frivolous playboy, living off familial wealth, while the other is an overly controlling workaholic. Navigating their marriage with a business-like approach, their relationship is marked by a whirlwind of bickering, banter, and societal pressures. Amid misunderstandings, they uncover layers of unexpected qualities, eventually discovering a sweet love neither saw coming.

Missed a chapter? - Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

CHAPTER 3 ───────────────────

Hyunjin had momentarily forgotten that, despite finding a peculiar sense of belonging in his… unconventional marriage, not everyone would suddenly see him in a new light. 

The labels that had followed him since his teenage years weren’t so easily erased.

Especially seeing these young women flocking around him, their lashes fluttering, lips curling into smiles he would have once indulged in. Perhaps just to pass the time. It was then he realized, his reputation still clung to him.

His eyes swept across the room and locked onto his wife, Y/N. The woman he was supposedly in love with. The supposed emotions these women surrounding him were clearly aware of, yet seemed to disregard, as they shamelessly flirted with him. Their fingers brushed his arm, their laughter filled the space between, swatting at him playfully as they giggled at his remarks that weren’t truly all that amusing.

Their presence here made sense, though. 

Who would truly believe that a womanizer like himself had finally been tamed? 

Such stories weren’t common in their circle, everyone always falling back into their old habits. Maybe they expected it from him. These women, drawn to him even more so because he was suddenly “off-limits”. If it was some other day, he would have been amused, he would have flirted back.

If it was even the day before his wife had suddenly opened his eyes to emotions he didn’t know he had, he would have humored all these fake personalities. 

But tonight, his gaze was fixed elsewhere. It lingered on Y/N, who stood with their mothers and a growing circle of friends, reintroduced to her over the course of the evening.

They were at a small gathering, though small was an understatement because everyone seemed to be here. His father had thrown this celebration for a business success and, as an afterthought, to celebrate the newlyweds. Even though it had been months since the wedding, they were still treated as if they had just tied the knot. Maybe that was just an excuse to make sure his cunning wife would show up, despite knowing she’d find a way to slither out of attending otherwise.

   “—Does Y/N really meet your expectations?” 

The question snapped Hyunjin back to a conversation he hadn’t been paying any particular attention to. His eyes flicked to the woman who had asked it, now standing just an arm’s length away.

He didn’t realize the group of women that had surrounded him had shrunk. Either they’d grown tired of his indifference or given up trying to compete for his attention. Though, Hyunjin guessed it was the absence of his usually flirtatious, usually charming persona that drove them away.

All but this woman. She was someone he recognized from his circle of friends, but one he’d never taken the time to get to know. It wasn’t her lone presence that caught him off guard. Rather, it was the ridiculousness of whatever she had just asked that made him blink in surprise.

He knew what she was insinuating. With her sultry tone and the curve of her lips that pulled into a smirk, he knew what she meant. As if she had convinced herself that he was going to find the next empty room and have his way with her. 

It wasn’t uncommon. Affairs, mistresses, extramarital flings. Secrets kept under wraps, usually existing between couples who were nothing more than a business arrangement.

And even if his marriage was basically that. It was different. The marriage between Hwang Hyunjin and Y/N Yeom was dripping with romantic tales no one expected from him. He had settled down for her, a true romeo that was rare in their elite class. 

Even if all of it was a ruse. A made-up story that was carved into stone to make it the truth. 

Yet here she stood, the daughter of some other high-class entrepreneur that Hyunjin never cared enough to memorize, suggesting he undo the months of character development he had curated. As if he was such a loose man that he would easily be tempted by a pretty face and seductive eyes.

Hyunjin lowered his gaze to hide the annoyance that flickered in his eyes before looking up at her again.

   “You must think of me as a joke.” His words came out sharper than intended, though deep down he knew he meant it.

For a moment her expression faltered, confused by his reaction. Confused as to why he was the one acting different. As if her question hadn’t disrespected his sham marriage, her touch on his arm hadn’t crossed a line.

Before Hyunjin could say anything further, or before she could continue her advances, a hand suddenly gripped his shoulder, breaking the tension.

   “There you are.” His brother’s voice came out smoothly, his actions even smoother as he picked up a flute of champagne from one of the servers passing by, handing it over to the young woman that stood before them.

   “You look like you need a refill.” He chuckled, glancing at her empty glass.

Her attention immediately shifted. The stunned expression on her face melted as she turned toward the older Hwang brother.

It was a common occurrence between the brothers. When Hwang Hyunsoo entered the room, everyone would instantly fall into his orbit. There was a charm about him that drew you close. A few simple words, a smile that easily captured whoever he was surrounded by. 

Maybe being a smooth-talker was a familial trait, seeing that both Hwangs were exceptional at it. However, right now, Hyunjin furrowed his brows with confusion anew, wondering why he was relieved that his brother had decided to intrude with his presence. 

   “Your wife is looking for you.” Hyunsoo chuckled, patting lightly at the younger brother’s arm.

The taller, younger brother’s eyes darted over Hyunsoo’s shoulder, settling on the form of his wife he had been stealing glimpses of. He was slightly surprised she was asking about him. Usually in such events, Y/N Yeom did not even spare a glance toward Hyunjin or the direction of the cliques he stood amongst. 

Although all those times in the past, they weren’t a couple, their names not attached to one another. 

Hyunjin nodded, sparing a final glance toward the woman who stood between them.

As the trophy husband approached Y/N and the new group she was standing with, his arm naturally slid around her waist. He felt her tense immediately at the contact, but he only tightened his grip slightly, a satisfied smile curling on his lips as his gaze flicked to the two men she was conversing with. He noticed the surprised glance Y/N shot toward him. Probably more from the suddenness of his approach than anything else.

   “Good evening gentlemen.” Hyunjin greeted the two men he too had been acquainted with.

The conversation flowed with ease, but even amidst the small talk, Hyunjin’s attention remained on Y/N. Rather at her form that relaxed against him, and the feel of her in his arms suddenly became his sole focus. He was slightly overwhelmed, trying to juggle the chatter around him while being keenly aware of her body pressed against his.

Y/N, for her part, could feel the quick hammering of Hyunjin’s heart against her back. She tilted her head slightly, studying the furrow in his brow as he listened to the men’s banter. He seemed bothered, and she easily assumed it was the business talk that was frustrating him. But of course, the thoughts swirling in his mind were far from anything related to business.

   “If you gentlemen will excuse us, we’re going to make our rounds to the other end of the hall.” Y/N politely excused, her social smile radiating under the bright lights.

Hyunjin gave a slight nod in acknowledgment as they made their way through the crowd, greeting even more acquaintances as they passed. It wasn’t until they exchanged forced pleasantries with a third businessman that Hyunjin sighed with slight frustration, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on the balcony doors.

   “This way.” His fingers naturally gripped at her wrist, tugging with a slight urgency, trying to avoid getting stopped yet again.

The fresh evening air was a welcome relief from the stifling heat of the event halls. They stepped onto the balcony, and Hyunjin quietly closed the door behind them. Y/N leaned against the stone railing, gazing out over the dark, sprawling gardens. She exhaled deeply, the cool breeze ruffling her hair.

   “Damn, should’ve grabbed some drinks on the way.” Hyunjin commented, casually tossing his dark blazer around her shoulders to protect her from the evening chill.

An action that doesn’t even phase his wife. As if she was used to it. Y/N glanced at him as he mirrored her stance, his back resting against the railing.

   “Feeling better?” He asked, his voice casual.

Except his question made her furrow her brows in confusion.

   “Didn’t you need the breath of fresh air?” 

Hyunjin blinked, slightly taken aback by her question

   “No…I thought you did. Isn’t that why you lied about greeting other people back there?” He tilted his head, a note of his own confusion in his voice. 

   “—Wasn’t it because you needed to talk to me?” He added.

Y/N straightened, glancing over his puzzled expression, raising an eyebrow.

   “I lied because you came to me, didn’t you need to speak to me?”

   “You’re the one who called me!” Hyunjin exclaimed, head slightly reeling from the circles their conversation was going in.

   “And why would I call you?” Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, raising a brow.

The dark-haired man was going to argue that his brother had told him so. But then it hit him. 

His brother lied. 

Hwang Hyunsoo had given him an excuse to leave before he said something harsh to that young lady back there. The older brother was yet again, saving him from embarrassing himself.

Hyunjin sighed, his shoulders dropping as he released the tension in his posture. 

   “God, I have a headache.” He muttered under his breath instead, though Y/N didn’t seem to hear him. She scoffed.

   “And besides, you seemed busy entertaining those women back there, I wouldn’t have called even if I wanted.” She shot him a glance. 

   “Must’ve been a real pain to tear yourself away and come find me.”

Her words were meant as a jab, but instead of feeling offended, Hyunjin couldn’t suppress the smug grin that tugged at his lips. The supposed headache he was getting, was suddenly forgotten. 

   “You’ve been watching me?” His smile widened, his amusement evident.

   “I had to. Every time some girl threw herself at you, my mother was breathing down my neck, telling me to keep you in check.” Y/N rolled her eyes in response, annoyed all over again.

Hyunjin chuckled, the tension between them easing. 

   “I’ll duck the next time some girl throws herself at me then.” His eyes crinkled with his laughter. 

His stupid answer only made her groan, unamused as she rolled her eyes again.

The silence settled between them as his laughter died down, eyes following hers to peer over the railing and watch the darkness before them.

The trophy husband suddenly glanced over at her with a fondness that was quickly becoming impossible to suppress. Watching as she pulled his blazer tighter around her body, the evening chill brought goosebumps and slight shivers.

Yet, as the two of them looked out to the night sky, it felt blissful.

────────────────────────

Y/N Yeom might have eased around Hyunjin, comfortable in the titles of “husband and wife”, considering him as business-partner, perhaps a friend even, in their strange dynamic, but that didn’t change how others viewed him. And he had gotten a taste of it that evening of his father’s party.

The trophy husband had been so preoccupied with following Y/N’s advice, avoiding his father-in-law, dodging the old man’s request for a “friendly chat”, that he’d almost overlooked her insufferable cousin. 

The same cousin who apparently lived in the same complex as them, which Hyunjin wasn’t aware of until he was standing in the lobby in the cousin’s presence. The air between them, already hostile.

The last time Hyunjin had seen him was at that same party a few weeks back. Although they exchanged brief greetings, it was clear that Y/N despised him and didn’t let them linger in his presence longer than needed.

He could see why she didn’t like him.

Alex Yeom had always been a smug asshole. He made questionable choices behind closed doors but was a good businessman. If people knew about his unsavory habits, they’d undoubtedly prefer the new Yeom son-in-law over him.

But Hyunjin did not care. He wasn’t interested in any of that.

Now, as Alex eyed him with something devious clearly brewing in his mind, Hyunjin stood with his hands in his pockets, trying to appear indifferent.

   “I thought Y/N would’ve put you on a leash by now. But seeing you wandering around idly, I guess even she’s failed at that.” Alex said with a mocking laugh that already grated on Hyunjin’s nerves.

But he stayed silent, keeping himself calm. And seeing that the remark had no effect on Hyunjin who stood nonchalant, the cousin continued to retort with nonsense.

   “Must be nice, freeloading off your wife?” Alex sneered, shaking his head as he recalled the women who surrounded his new brother-in-law the last time they met.

   “You get to play your part of the playboy while you're at it too. I’d say you’re living up to your reputation. And they told me to worry about you.” He was openly laughing now, a bitterness in his words.

Hyunjin’s lips barely twitched. But he kept himself composed. He was no stranger to insults, most of them came from his own family anyways.

But here stood this fool, spewing out hollow jabs in efforts to get a rise out of him.

Instead, the new cousin-in-law kept his hands in his pockets, but his posture was tight. Every muscle in his body wound up like a spring. A part of him nudged to retaliate, but he remained still. Alex’s mocking words scraped at his nerves, but he wouldn't let this idiot see it.

At least he had that in common with Y/N. 

Instead, Hyunjin sighed, his mouth opening to deliver a bored “sure” or something equally dismissive, anything to make the incessant chatter stop.

Yet even before the words could leave his lips, a sharp, resonant thud shattered the fragile tension in the lobby. Y/N’s form had almost flown between them, her face contorted with a mix of anger and a glint of something else. Without a word, her leg snapped up in one swift motion, landing a hard, kick to Alex’s shin.

An action that made Hyunjin flinch, while Alex let out a sharp hiss. The younger cousin’s eyes immediately widened in shock, and he let out a pained groan, hopping on one foot as he clutched his leg. 

   “What the fuck—” He began, but Y/N cut him off with a sharp, icy glare.

   “Oh? Was it you, Alex? I thought a dog had snuck in, given all the barking I was hearing.” She said, her voice dripping with feigned surprise.

Hyunjin blinked, caught off guard—not only by her sudden appearance, but by the violence of her actions. 

This was a side of Y/N he had never seen before. An unexpected side.

Cold. Uncompromising.

Alex staggered back, rubbing his shin as he glared at her. 

   “H-how can you do this out in the open?” He grunted, his eyes flicking nervously toward a stunned Hyunjin and then around to the few residents that watched the scene unfold.

   “Well, you were being loudly disrespectful to my husband, weren’t you? Where’s your manners? I’m sure your mother had taught them to you.” Y/N retorted, shrugging nonchalantly as if the stares of others didn’t bother her at all. 

Her words hung in the air like a slap. Alex opened his mouth to protest, the younger cousin falling silent as he realized his response would perhaps lead to nothing but his further humiliation.

Y/N turned her attention back to Hyunjin, her gaze softening but her grip on his wrist tight. It was then that Hyunjin noticed the firm hold she had on him. Something he hadn’t even realized until now.

   “Let’s go.” Her tone was calm, yet the tug she had on his arm, not waiting for an answer as she led him away, gave way to her anger.

Hyunjin’s legs seemed to move on their own. Unable to find the words to respond with, simply allowing himself to be pulled along.

His eyes raked over her form. Resolute, frustrated.

Fascinating.

This was Y/N, the woman who had always been so poised, so controlled... but in this moment, she was something else entirely.

Suddenly he felt his cheeks tinge.

In the car, Y/N’s frustration was evident, a string of curses escaping her lips. 

   “Who the hell does he think he is? That asshole only knows how to run his mouth and nothing else.” She muttered, her eyes focused on the road.

The dark-haired man watched her in silence, a mix of admiration and bewilderment settling in.

   “I should’ve punched him instead and wiped that smug look off his face.” She turned to look at the quiet man in the next seat.

   “—And you! You should’ve said something, how could you just stand there?!” Y/N snapped, her anger still simmering.

Hyunjin remained silent, stunned all over again as she directed her frustrations towards at him. Unable to quite understand why she was upset with him now.

Minutes passed, and by the time they stopped at the next light, Y/N seemed to have calmed down. She huffed for what felt like an eternity, only to glance over at him again, surprise slowly creeping across her face.

   “Wait… where were we even headed?” She asked, glancing around as if she had lost track of their destination, which, in reality, she probably didn’t have one to begin with.

There was a split-second of silence before Hyunjin let out a sudden, uncontrollable laugh. One he had been holding back ever since she had shoved him into the passenger seat.

   “I would say… towards the gallery?” He suggested between his chuckles, recognizing the familiar streets around them.

Y/N groaned, the last of her frustration giving way to amusement.

   “Why didn’t you say anything?” She muttered, shaking her head as she continued to drive.

He only could let out another laugh, shrugging.

He wasn’t sure either. 

Why was he rendered speechless ever since she arrived back then. Only watching as cursed her cousin, as she scolded him.

It was more sides of Y/N that he had uncovered.

Protective, fiery, and unafraid to speak her mind.

Hyunjin had always known she was aggressively proud and protective of the people and things she cared about. He wasn’t surprised she had those qualities.

But he hadn’t realized that it extended to him as well. 

That he was also a part of her things, a part of her people.

And what Alex had said wasn’t entirely wrong. 

Hyunjin had been drifting through life, moving from one thing to the next with no real purpose. But even as his mind tried to process everything that had happened, the warmth of Y/N’s fingers lingering on his wrist brought him a sense of…belonging.

A sense of comfort he hadn’t realized he needed.

That phantom touch, still hot against his skin, stirred that weird sensation inside him again, a feeling he couldn’t ignore. It had been there ever since she’d complimented his cooking, a quiet warmth he was starting to recognize... and not one he was ready to let go of.

Like the searing grasp that still seemed to burn on his wrist, lingering long after they had forgotten all about Alex and the nonsense he’d spewed, the questions of why Hyunjin was suddenly feeling this way continued to haunt him.

But, it wasn’t just the touch that tug at his thoughts, it was everything.

When he found himself trailing after her, his heart lifting at the familiar sound of the apartment door opening and she entered. When he would chatter over dinner, watching as she ate with carefree gusto, her compliments flowing freely over whatever he had thrown together. 

There was a strange warmth in these moments. Something that felt like it had been awakened in him, though he couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. It was as if something inside him was getting ready to burst, but even as he recognized the shift, he was still unsure how to label any of it.

What he did know, however, was that he enjoyed being by her side more than he had ever expected.

The gallery director’s husband, that future version of himself who would eventually have the answers, would figure out the specifics later. For now, Hyunjin was content just to be the one who received her genuine laughter, the sound of it filling him with an inexplicable warmth. He loved how her jokes, always blunt and sometimes a little too honest, would make him stifle his laughter, a quiet amusement settling in his chest.

And then there were the softer moments. 

The sight of her curled under the blankets, her hair a mess, traces of sleep clinging to her face. A look that Hyunjin suddenly found more beautiful than anything he’d ever seen before.

Even prettier than those actresses. Those models that he had once thought were so. 

But the questions still fluttered, just beneath the surface. 

A part of him was aware of the growing attachment, the pull he couldn’t ignore. 

While another part, a quieter, more cautious part, waited for a sign.

And a sign seemed to come easily to him.

Especially when the playboy husband found his eyes trailing over Y/N more often than he ever cared to admit. It was in those moments that he found his sign.

The one he had given himself without even realizing it.

The business couple was preparing for yet another event, hosted by an business acquaintance of hers.

Hyunjin stood in the doorway, watching her get ready, his figure leaning casually against the frame. His gaze wandered over her as she applied the finishing touches to her makeup. Her eyes darted over to the reflection of his figure behind her.

   “I’m surprised you got ready first.” Y/N mused, with a soft laugh, glancing at him as she adjusted her lipstick.

Hyunjin chuckled, his lips curving into a smile. He dropped his head, ready to respond with something snarky perhaps. Something that would catch her off guard, make her falter as she applied her lip gloss.

He could already picture her narrowing her brows, throwing him a mock glare, and then muttering something that would set him off into laughter.

Something that would usually happen in these situations.

But the words never came.

As he gazed at her reflection, something stopped him. 

The gallery director’s husband caught a glimpse of himself, lounging against the door-frame. His body had been poised in that position for the past half hour, watching her with quiet intensity. 

But now, as he saw himself in the mirror, it hit him.

All the answers to the questions that had been gnawing at him.

Those badgering thoughts that surged through him late at nights when he was heavily aware of her form next to him, chest heaving up and down, breathing softly, deeper into her slumber.

The thoughts that would poke at his mind whenever he found himself following her every move, his eyes lingering a moment too long on her.

He stared at his reflection, his gaze locked with his own, and for the first time, it was all too clear.

The look in his eyes was far too familiar.

He’s seen them plenty of times. Plenty of glimpses of it, ones that had often brought a smug smile to his lips. Smiles that parted as he leaned in to whisper sweet, empty, words.

It was the look that women gave him.

The gleam in their eyes, the wide smiles, the soft blush on their cheeks.

It was desire.

It was attraction.

It was infatuation.

Hyunjin stilled against the door-frame. His entire body suddenly relaxed as he realized.

What did a playboy perhaps in love turn into?

A lunatic.

Because the playboy soon found himself doing things that felt... out of character.

His sleep-hazed eyes would follow her every movement as she hauled herself out of bed at ungodly hours. Times that Hyunjin was still not used to waking, yet still stirred from his sleep.

He had always hated mornings. 

Hated the way the sun would already be shining bright for no reason at all.

Yet, there he was, brewing a pot of coffee, a quiet habit he had started for no other reason than the fact that he noticed she liked it prepared before she headed out. And each morning, when she stepped out of the bathroom, still half-dazed from sleep, she would blink in surprise at the sight of his groggy, hunched figure standing by the counter. It had been weeks since he began this routine, but her surprise still hadn’t worn off.

   “How can someone sleep with all the noise you make?” He’d mutter, offering the same lame excuse he always did. 

But it was a lie.

Hwang Hyunjin couldn’t tell her that he was slowly weaving himself into her routine. That he was positioning himself to become a fixture in her life. To make her so accustomed to having him there, make her rely on him for small, mundane things like making coffee.

He couldn’t tell her that he had started catching feelings for her, his wife.

Tell her how undeniably attracted he was to her, his wife.

She’d laugh in his face. He was sure of it. 

And though the thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He found himself still doing things he never would have imagined before, things he thought might bring a smile to her face.

Things that betrayed his playboy reputation.

Things that the old Hwang Hyunjin would have scoffed at, would laugh in disbelief of his current self’s antics.

The second Hwang son had always been the type to accept whatever life threw at him. His status, his place within his family. Though they had all fallen into place because he hadn’t bothered to prevent them, hadn’t cared enough to even attempt to challenge them. Deep down, he knew it all came back to his own bad choices.

And now, here he was, caught in yet another predicament. One he’d accepted just as easily, though this one hadn’t been a result of his choices.

Or maybe it was.

Maybe when he had stepped into that bridal room, drawn in by the panic in her eyes, he had already made his choice.

Maybe when he had locked the door behind him, rushing to her side to calm her, to soothe that clench in his chest, he had sealed his fate.

Now, he sat there, a fool, quietly acknowledging the fact that he was infatuated with his wife. Y/N, who, clearly, didn’t feel the same.

It was almost laughable. Ironic, really.

The playboy, the playboy, had developed a crush.

And it was one he couldn’t chase with his charms or good looks.

Hwang Hyunjin had truly fallen for the ambitious gallery director. 

Who wouldn’t? 

Just look at her.

And, of course, he looked.

His gaze lingering, tracing. Shamelessly ogling the one woman who was suddenly off limits. 

Y/N, his wife.

────────────────────────

There had been a quiet shift somewhere along the way. 

The self-proclaimed workaholic had noticed it easily, even though she wasn’t usually the type to catch such things so quickly.

Y/N Yeom had always immersed herself in her passions. In her brand and her business. And though it might seem like it, that she had no time for any of it, she wasn’t entirely clueless when it came to men, having had her share of boyfriends over the years. But most of those relationships had ended for one reason.

She was too focused on her work. 

There was nothing “girlfriend-worthy” about her.

Even if the gallery director had thick skin, never letting those words dig deep enough to prick her, they still left her with an uneasy sense of…imperfection.

Y/N was ambitious, there was no doubt there. And even if she might not have been the “perfect daughter,” she liked to think she came close, compared to other high-class children at least. As a businesswoman, she was near flawless, her gallery thriving and her career booming.

She had dreamed of being the perfect wife too, once.

But that dream faded when her eyes were opened.

She had long since given up on that goal.

Even so, Y/N apparently wasn’t perfect in the eyes of the men she’d dated. At least, not the “perfect lover” they wanted.  

And that’s what irked her, slightly. 

If she couldn’t be a perfect lover, she knew for sure that becoming a perfect wife was out of question.

Besides the way her wedding, her marriage had all happened, it was all far from what one would call perfect. 

Not that she ever wanted to be the “perfect wife” to Hwang Hyunjin of all people. 

The man’s reputation had long preceded him, and Y/N was sure he would drive her mad. She had already imagined herself holed up in her office. Taking solace there to escape her trophy husband’s playboy tendencies. Ready to either kill him or shoot herself from the headaches he would give her.

But the soft pats of his hand against her back, had shattered all that.

He had done something so unexpected, those less-than expectations that had clouded her mind ever since she agreed to marry him, seemed to have faded.

“Breathe…” 

His tone had been soft, soothing, yet enough to pull her out of the storm of emotions swirling inside her.

When he kissed her, she should have been angry. She should’ve been furious that he’d pulled such a “Hyunjin stunt.” But somehow, those feelings evaded her. Instead, she felt an odd sense of gratitude. The press of his lips against hers brought her back to reality. Back to her supposed perfect love story, one where she could at least pretend to be the perfect wife.

She had expected more of those.

More of those moments for her to pretend to be the perfect wife.

More of the kisses.

Although she swore it wasn’t because she liked seeing the shocked expression in his eyes when she kissed him back, she knew her competitiveness had played a role.

But the kisses never came.

Hwang Hyunjin, the playboy, had never once tried anything with his supposed wife.

Maybe she should have been grateful for that. It crossed off one worry from the list of things that could give her a headache.

It was still strange. Seeing all these sides of Hyunjin she hadn’t thought existed.

For so long, Y/N had believed him to be nothing more than the pretentious second son of the Hwang empire. 

A narcissist, lazy and indulgent, with little ambition beyond lounging around. 

But maybe she had judged him too harshly. Maybe her assumptions were fueled by her own bitterness, by the nagging belief that her father had screwed her over.

Her mind wandered back to their wedding day. Back to his figure leaning against the wall, his eyes fixed on her as the makeup artist scrambled to fix the disaster that had become her face. Hyunjin had watched with an intensity, eyes full of… concern, was it?

Yet, she didn’t find his presence there odd.

And here she was now watching him intently. 

Her eyes raked over his figure, studying him from across the room, his figure sprawled across the long sofa he’d picked out, while she sat on the floor, surrounded by her work. 

Y/N had a habit of unloading everything onto the living room table. Her papers, files, and her laptop all strewn about. With her back pressed against the smaller sofa, she typed away like a machine. 

It was always just her and her work. 

Quiet. Lonesome.

But now, even in this silence, even as she focused on the screen in front of her, her eyes would flicker over to him. Hyunjin was in his own little world, oblivious to her gaze, but something about the way he existed in this quiet room, it didn’t feel lonesome at all.

His presence here, anything but odd.

Y/N was honestly surprised to find Hyunjin here at this hour. By now, she had grown used to his late-night disappearances. His notorious escapades and parties. Yet, somewhere along the way, even those late-night adventures had become a rare occurrence.

The first time she came home to find him lounging on the sofa, feet kicked up on the table, watching a cooking show, she had been a little stunned. It wasn’t at all what she expected from the playboy she thought she knew. But somehow, over time, it had just become a new normal.

And these days, instead of disappearing into the night, he had developed an unexpected habit of evening reading.

The thought of it still made her laugh.

Y/N would often find herself watching him in quiet fascination as his fingers turned the pages of whatever novel he was engrossed in. It was always the same book. One he was still working through. One she had noticed just a few days ago.

She’d sometimes do a double-take, just to make sure she wasn’t imagining the scene. 

And then, during particularly gripping parts of the story, he’d gasp, his eyes lighting up as he looked up at her, eager to share the latest twist. 

He would wait. For her to sigh and ask and suddenly his words would surge out. He would eagerly break down what he had read, passionate rambles about characters and plotlines she barely knew.

Oddly enough, Y/N didn’t mind listening to his random recaps, even when they pulled her away from whatever she was doing.

For Y/N, distractions usually grated on her nerves. Yet, there was something undeniably charming about Hyunjin’s excitement. 

The sparkle in his eyes when he talked about the latest plot twist or character development was…captivating. It reminded her of the same glimmer she saw when he engaged in the most mundane activities. The ones that brought him joy she assumed, whether it was playing computer games, watering the plants on the balcony while humming some off-key tune, or even just lounging around in the quiet.

She had noticed it. And she wasn’t sure exactly when it had started catching her attention.

But one thing was certain. Y/N didn’t hate it at all.

She had thought they would be just fine. Her initial worry about having to “babysit” in the pretense of marriage. About reforming the second Hwang, the screw-up of a son, had begun to melt away.

Y/N had almost forgotten about the playboy’s nature.

Almost.

As she walked into the quiet house one evening, she immediately noticed that Hyunjin was nowhere to be seen in the living room that he loved lazing around in at this time. Her eyes swooped over the dim livingroom, settling on the coffee table. He was always the one cleaning up the mess she’d left behind on it the night prior, only for her to undo it all again. It had become a cycle of his complaining as he tidied, but had never really stopped doing it.

Her eyes began to search the space instinctively, trying to locate him.

It was a rare weekday evening when Y/N returned home earlier than usual. Typically, the workaholic in her stayed late into the night, but lately, she had been working tirelessly to get ahead so she could enjoy some free time without guilt. 

Recently, the gallery director had started feeling a pang of remorse. Hyunjin was always waiting for her, no matter how late she came home or how much she told him not to.

It was strange how things had shifted over the past few months. Where once they had coexisted like mere roommates, now it felt more like they were friends. Hyunjin’s goofy laughter, his carefree nature, was starting to grow on the usually overbearing gallery director.

A breath of fresh air in her hectic life. 

But as she walked down the corridor of their apartment, her steps faltered. The distant sounds coming from the bedroom caught her attention.

A string of groans and grunts. His strained whispers, muttered curses, echoed in the stillness.

Lewd, unmistakable sounds that pointed to only one conclusion.

Y/N’s brows furrowed, the confusion quickly giving way to simmering anger as she reached out to grip the doorknob. Her mind instantly jumping back to her initial worries about him.

Hwang Hyunjin the playboy. The rake. The womanizer.

How dare he bring someone home? And to her bed, no less.

She had warned him. 

She had made it crystal clear that if he ever did something as foolish as this, she’d make his life a living hell.

All men were the same, after all.

Her grip on the doorknob tightened, anger flooding her veins, her heart hammering in her chest.

But when she flung open the door and stood there, her knuckles white from gripping the doorknob, the scene before her was nothing like what she had anticipated. Her furrowed brows of anger rising as she took in whatever she burst into.

Hyunjin was sitting on the bed, his cock in fist, sweat beading on his forehead.

The bathrobe he had on was undone and barely hanging onto his body. His body on full display as he looked up at her sudden figure with wide, stunned eyes, completely frozen by her unexpected intrusion.

   “Shit—sorry!” She almost exclaimed, mortified words tumbling out before she could stop them. 

In a flash, she spun around on her heels, yanking the door shut with a sharp slam.

Y/N stood rigidly in front of the now-closed door, eyes fixed on the ground, her cheeks burning with heat. She could hear him on the other side of the door, scrambling, probably more flustered than she was.

Yet, all her mind could do was replay the image she had just walked in on, over and over. And no matter how hard she tried to focus on something else, her mind kept replaying the image she had intruded onto. Of Hyunjin, sitting there, his bathrobe hanging open, looking caught in a moment he clearly didn’t expect.

His fingers wrapped around his erection. 

She gulped, throat feeling dry. Her hands cupped her cheeks, feeling the heat surging over her skin, trying to calm her erratic heart from beating so freaking fast.

Boy, he was big after all. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ to be continued.

── ask to be tagged! (18+) - @jellyleggz, @binniesbabe, @bookswillfindyouaway, @lemonn015, @scarlet789, @onlyhyunjin @freekyfangirl, @candyquokka, @jehhskz, @stayjinnie, @minh0scat, @qwonyoung23, @kpopjackie, @rundontwalkshesaid, @sheerfreesia007, @thecutiepieme, @danihwang882, @hyunebunx, @seeeeking-skz, @velvetmoonlght, @alrm02, @tirena1, @cybergracie, @notevenheretbh1, @piscesrising01, @alisonyus, @hyuneyeon, @broken-glowsticks, @modesttiger, @gnabnahcbby, @hanniesdegree, @lenfilms, @sushiinmidnight, @chrisbangsass, @fixation-dump, @shhyucm, @suzyhhj, @d34thon2legs, @dessianna1, @hityoulikebahng, @tsunderelino, @minluvly, @hanadulsetaad (43/50)

[hhughes]

៹࣪ ៸៸ HOME TO YOU . . . ꒱꒱

𐙚 fic ; in which quinn comes home to you after a long road trip

𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕. quinn hughes x gf!reader 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕. fluff and domesticity. smut. mdni. 𝒙𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒊. as always reblogs and feedback is appreciated and I hope you liked it <3

Quinn steps through the door of your shared apartment, dropping his bags at the door with a thud and removing his shoes. He knows you’re going to scold him for leaving his stuff there but right now he can’t find it in himself to care if it means he gets to see you a little sooner. He lets out a big sigh as exhaustion settles into his bones. It’s the type of exhaustion that no matter the amount of sleep he got on the plane, won’t be sated until he gets into his own bed, with you.

He makes his way into the living room, where he finds you curled up on the couch with some movie softly playing in the background. His lips curl up when he hears soft snores from you, indicating you were asleep. He always tells you to go to bed but you never listen, always opting to wait up for him instead and he couldn’t be happier that you did because although he has to wake you up, it means he doesn’t have to wait a minute longer to see you.

“sweetheart,” he whispers softly, gently brushing some hair away from your face as your eyes flutter open.

“quinn…You’re home?” you ask groggily, a little disoriented and he takes a seat next to you as you sit up, pulling you into his side.

“I’m home baby,” he confirms, kissing your temple.

Both of you sit there for a few minutes, not saying anything, simply enjoying being in one another’s company for the first time in a few days.

“I put your towel in the drier, so it’s warm when you get out of the shower. I washed the sheets so the bed needs to be made, so I’m gonna do that while you take a shower and I’ll meet you in bed?” you ask and quinn’s heart grows twice the size with pure love for you.

You put his towel in the drier so it would be extra warm. You washed the sheets because you know he likes the feeling of clean sheets after a long road trip. He knows by the faint smell of ginger in the air, there’s a container of freshly baked cookies waiting for him on the kitchen counter, just like there is every time he comes home. Just like he knows you’ll be up before him tomorrow, while he sleeps in. Making him breakfast, and throwing his laundry in the wash so that he doesn’t have to worry about it.

“I’ll be quick,” he assures you, his voice a bit thick by his sudden overwhelming thoughts of love for you.

-

After his shower quinn joins you in bed, pulling you close. You turn around to look up at him, running your hands over his cheek and pulling him closer to attach your lips. A few kisses later, quinn is sitting up against the headboard, your legs on either side of his hips as you straddle him.

“I missed you,” quinn groans, head falling back as his hands squeezing your ass, pressing your clothed cores together.

“I missed you more,” you mumble against his neck, where your kisses had already begun leaving marks on his pale skin.

quinn puts both hands on your waist, lifting you up to stand on your knees as he pulls down your shorts. You help him by removing your shirt, kicking your pants off the bed and his eyes naturally fall to your breasts, buds hardening in the cold. He wraps both arms around you and pulls you closer, his face level with your chest, pressing kisses there.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs

“quinn, please. I’ve already waited long enough, please don’t make me wait any longer,” you whine and he grins up at you. Both of you aware who’s really controlling the situation despite you hovering above him.

“You’re always so desperate baby, huh? Is that what being away from me does to you? Turns you into a needy little slut?” he asks, tongue circling your nipple, his hand playing with the other one.

“Please” is your only response and quinn gives in, pushing you back a bit to remove his boxers, his only article of clothing and pulling you closer again, his hand wrapped around his dick, lining it up with your entrance.

“Only cause you asked so nicely,” he says, gripping your hips tightly as you sink down onto him. There was nothing like those first few seconds of being inside you. quinn was convinced nothing would ever compare. He wondered if lifting the Stanley Cup would bring him as much euphoria as you.

Your hands grip the headboard behind his head, causing you to bend forward, practically shoving your breasts in his face, not that he was complaining. The change in angle causing both of you to moan when he enters you again.

“Fuck baby, you always feel so good,” he groans against your skin, his hand trailing between your legs and thumb lazily rubbing circles across your clit.

“quinn,” you moan, your hands moving from the headboard to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, leaving marks behind, just how he likes it. Your hips still, legs getting tired and unable to do much else but feel pleasure as quinn continues to rub your clit.

“That’s not nice baby, I just got home from a four game road trip and you’re making me do all the work,” he says, grabbing a fist full of your hair and pulling it, causing you to arch your back. His other hand lands on your ass with an audible smack when you don’t answer.

“Can’t even be bothered to answer? Too cockdrunk to even think aren’t you sweetheart?” he asks, not giving you time to try and formulate a response before both his hands slide to your hips, lifting you up and down in time with his thrusts. You can’t do anything but take it, like a little toy for him to use. The thought sends you over the edge, causing you to clench around him and he finishes inside you.

You both sit there for a few minutes, quinn still inside you. Just being close and savoring the moment waiting for your heart rates to go down.

“I love you,” he says softly, kissing you gently.

“I love you too. Welcome home.” you whisper, kissing his chest and tucking your face in his neck while his hands rub up and down your back.

He hates going on long roadies, but he loves coming home. Warm towels. Cookies. Fresh sheets. And you.

[storiesbyrhi]

I saw you lurking and liking, and that alone made me happy. But this! This reblog/comment?! Made my whole fucking month.

Thank you so much. I wrote this story pretty early on in the Eddie timeline (I think), so he was very new and fresh for us all. And that weird healing a lot of us went through when we realised someone like him would love someone like us was new too. This story is totally a reflection on that.

I always appreciate feedback about smut, because I am so unsure about writing it. I spend a lot of time trying to get the balance between realistic and hot right, and trying not to fuck it up with cringe lmao.

Thank you thank you thank you.

Angel of the First Degree - Chapter 1: Valium

Eddie Munson x Chubby & Inexperienced!Reader 2359 words

Warnings: Anxiety/panic attack; misuse of prescription medication; fatphobia including internalised; cigarettess; bullying; body issues; no beta; warnings updated each chapter

Synopsis: When Eddie Munson finds you in the midst of a panic attack, it is the beginning of something. A fic featuring body and sex positivity, Eddie in a dress, soft small moments, scary big truths, and all the usual special feelings you'd expect from one of my stories.

Chapter 1: Valium

Eddie rounded the corner, hands in his pocket already pulling out his pack of cigarettes. He’d moved too swiftly, unable to stop and slink backwards without being seen.

“Sorry,” he said, hands up defensively. “Didn’t know it was, ah, occupied. I’ll-” Eddie was about to say ‘go,’ when he saw the look on your face.

Your skin was blotchy, tears streaming down your cheeks. Bloodshot eyes, mouth open, gasping for air. He knew a panic attack when he saw one, even if he didn’t know they were a thing with a name.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asked.

You said nothing as you stared at him like an animal caught in the headlights. He thought you might speak, but it was clear you were chasing your breath.

“You… need to breathe. Keep going like that and you’re gonna pass out. And, you know, I’ve got a bit of a reputation already. Don’t want to add ‘seen with unconscious girl behind the woodwork shed’ to it,” he joked.

Nothing. No reaction from you. It was like he wasn’t even there. Eddie was almost going to give up, but there was a memory of you in his mind. Vivid. Formative. So, instead of leaving you he said your name once, firmly, loudly. It made you jump a little, startled.

“Come on. Sit,” Eddie said, moving to sit at your feet, cross legged on the shitty high school grass.

Complying, you sat, legs folded under you on an angle in front of Eddie.

He looked you dead in the eyes and said, “In through the nose, out through the mouth.” He demonstrated. You tried to copy it, but it took a couple of tries. Slowly though, it worked.

“There she is,” Eddie said, his voice back to being soft. “You’re okay.”

Eddie watched you avoid eye contact, pulling a drink bottle from your bag and gulp down water. It was quiet, the distant sounds of power towels and teenage laughter providing the only relief for any awkwardness. To kill time, wait for you, he got out the cigarette he had come to that hidden away spot for in the first place. He leaned back, the heel of his hands digging into the ground behind him for support.

“Thank you,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

“No problem… So, ah, what class is so awful that someone like you is skipping?”

Sniffling, you replied, “I’ve got a free period,”

“Ah. Of course…” Eddie took another drag of his cigarette. “Do… you wanna talk about it?”

God, when was the last time you had just… talked about it? Talked about anything? Months. Months and months. But what were you going to do? Spill your guts out to Eddie Munson?

“I’m okay,” you replied.

“You sure? I am an excellent listener.”

You looked at him, saw how casual and honest he was. He maintained eye contact while he lifted his face to exhale smoke up and away from you.

“I have to give a speech next period. In History,” you told him.

Eddie was confused. “I don’t know if you remember, but we were in the same English class last year,” he recalled.

“Yeah, I took a Senior class,” you replied.

“Yeah. Even though you were the only Junior in the class, you never got nervous. Always seemed real confident to me.”

He was right. The school counsellor had told you picking up an extra Senior class would look great on college applications, so you chose English. Eddie was repeating his Senior year for the first time then and spent the whole time sitting in the back corner not participating. Unlike you. You would speak first in class discussions. Joke with the other students, your friends. Eddie remembered, you were eloquent and sure.

“Yeah, well, that was before,” you mumbled.

“Before what?” Eddie asked.

Was he fucking joking?

“Seriously?”

Eddie shrugged, made a face that clearly meant he had no idea what you were referring to.

“You don’t… know?” you asked.

“I’m not exactly part of the Hawkins High popular crowd phone tree,” he joked.

“Yeah, well, neither am I anymore.” You didn’t say it with venom, but with sadness. Eddie saw the pain in your face. You pulled at blades of grass before braving eye contact again. “You really don’t know anything?”

“I mean… I don’t see you in the cafeteria with the rest of the pom pom party, but I figured, you know, Senior year. Smart girl. Probably spends her time studying.”

He really didn’t know about the… About any of it.

However, at some point, he noticed your absence during lunch.

“I’m… not friends with them anymore,” you told him, leaving it at that, a little thrown that you were telling him anything at all.

“Oh… Well, good riddance? Right?” The joke slipped out and he was sitting up straight, stubbing his smoke out into the grass. “Sorry. Sorry. I didn’t mean- I’m sure they’re-” He couldn’t think of a lie. He was sure they were all assholes.

“It’s okay,” you said with a weak smile. “But, yeah, I’m not on… Good terms with them,”

“And now you gotta give a talk in front of them, kind of thing?” Eddie guessed.

You nodded, thinking about it. The tightness returned to your chest and you were aware of how dry your mouth was again.

“No, no, no, you’re fine. You’re gonna do fine,” Eddie told you, reaching out and taking a hand. “Don’t freak out on me again.” He might have been able to coach you out of panic, but as soon as you stepped foot in that History class you were going to lose it. He knew it. You knew it. “Alright, fuck. Here,” he said, pulling a tiny plastic bag from his pocket. “You on anything?”

“What?”

Eddie smiled at the way you were innocently watching him. “Like, medications. Anything?” You shook your head. “Alright, well, I’m giving you half of one of these bad boys. It will just… take the edge off. Like, barely. Just enough.”

You watched him snap a small pill in half using a loose coin he found in his pocket. He held it out to you and nodded.

“What is it?” you asked, looking at it sitting in the palm of your hand.

“Just valium. Half the school is on ‘em. I promise it’s safe.”

There were reasons to not trust Eddie Munson, drug dealer, in that moment. Maybe he was just trying to get you hooked on his drugs so he could make lots of money off you. That’s what drug dealers did, right? Or maybe he was like all the other boys, only thinking of one thing.

There were reasons to trust him, though. His kindness, for one. It was a warm feeling you weren’t used to anymore. Secondly, you had very little to lose.

You swallowed the cut valium with the last of the water in your bottle.

“Thank you,”

“Again – no problem,” he replied. “You should probably just sit here for another five minutes. Make sure you don’t have a reaction or anything,”

“Does that happen?” you asked, the pitch in your voice indicating worry.

“No. No. I just… Ya know. Looking for an excuse to keep talking to you,” Eddie said, his delivery perfect. Flirty. Kind. A little bit of danger.

His smile stretched ear to ear and his teeth were whiter than you would have expected for someone who did… drugs. Do drug dealers do drugs all the time?

You blushed, looked down and busied yourself with looking for your compact mirror.

“What class are you skipping?” you asked him, suddenly aware you had no idea what he was doing out there, besides having a smoke.

“Ah, that would be English. Same class, third year in a row,” Eddie told you, exaggerating a wince. He caught the micro expression flash across your face. “I know, I know. Going for a fourth at this rate. It’s just… I didn’t do the homework, so…”

“What’s the homework? Of Mice and Men still?”

“Yep. I could recite that book front to back…. ‘What the hell do you suppose is eatin’ them guys,’” Eddie quoted. 

“Why haven’t you done the work then?” you asked. Eddie shrugged. “Is it an essay? What’s the question?”

Eddie was just happy to have gotten you talking, distracted from your own perceived impending doom.

“Uhhh… It’s like… Discuss the ways… the book is… similar to a play? And… does that make the book better or worse?” he recalled, doing a pretty good job at remembering the essay question. To be fair to Eddie, he had planned on doing it. He really wasn’t trying to fail again. But Wayne had to cover an extra shift, so Eddie had to do the laundry and grocery shopping. He would have time to do it all too, but he was shitty at time management.

You laughed. “That’s the same question from last year. It’s about how each section starts with these long, descriptive paragraphs. They set the scene the same way it would in a script for a play,” you told him as you fished out a notepad and pen from your bag.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asked.

“I can’t get you an A, not without the book and more time, but I can probably get you a pass?”

Eddie was stunned for a second, watched you begin to madly scribble out sentences, trying to use your thick thighs as a table, your legs still folded under you.

“Why?”

“As a thank you,” you said. “Now shush. Let me do this,”

“Well fuck, alright. Here, let me be useful, at least,” Eddie said, laying down on the grass. He took the notepad and put it on his chest, gestured for you to continue, then put his arms behind his head.

“You have to close your eyes if you’re gonna lay like that,” you told him, leaning down and letting his ribcage keep the notepad mostly steady.

“Like what?” Eddie asked, looking up at you. He didn’t like the frown you shot him, so he did what he was told and closed his eyes.

Relieved that he didn’t press the subject, you could focus on the homework without feeling the heat of embarrassment. You were sure that you looked horrible from his angle. Fat.

There were ten short minutes left until the next period when you finished. “Done!”

Eddie’s eyes opened and he sat up. “She’s gonna know I didn’t write this,” he said, flicking through the pages.

“It’s not against school rules to have someone else scribe your work,” you said.

“Look at you. Loopholes, huh? How do you know that one?” Eddie asked. When you hesitated, he smirked. “You’ve done this before,”

“Yeah,”

“You really are different. To how you were last year, I mean,”

“Is that… good?” you ventured.

“Yeah. I think so. You don’t?”

Jesus. That was a can of worms you did not want to open. You shrugged and went back to looking for your compact mirror. When you found it and saw your reflection you almost gasped.

“I look like a raccoon!” you squealed involuntary, furiously rubbing under your eyes trying to shift the mascara.

“A cute raccoon,” Eddie clarified. You shot him an angry look that he just chuckled at. “Here, lemme,” he said, pulling the bandana that hung from his back pocket out and picking up your water bottle. Empty. “Spit,”

“What?”

“No water. Spit. Unless you want my spit on your face?”

You hesitated, realising you didn’t know how to just… spit. The next best thing was taking the bandana and sucking on the tip of it, handing it back to Eddie despite knowing what it was for. You could have done it yourself, but he had said to let him, and there was something in that tone that made you want to comply again.

Eddie held your chin with one hand and wiped at your messy makeup with the other.

“There. Pretty as a picture,” he told you, letting go.

Checking his work in your mirror, you nodded. “Thank you. Again,”

“Think I might need to thank you for that one. Come on,” he said, standing up and offering you a hand. “You better get a head start.”

You brushed the grass off your knees and picked up your bag, slinging it onto your back. “What do you mean?”

“Can’t go out there together. You, seen with me, behind the shed? Social suicide,” Eddie said not sad but neutrally, which was way worse.

You’d already survived social suicide. Something Eddie had no idea about. When he found out what had happened, you were sure he would be disgusted by you too. He’d feel like the people who used to be your friends did. It would be the only thing Eddie Munson, the basketball team, and the cheer squad had in common, but it would unite them in their shared revulsion.

Until then, you could pretend.

“So, you won’t walk me to class?” you asked looking up at him.

That goddamn smile was solar power. “You sure?”

“I’m sure,” you confirmed.

Eddie nodded once and began to walk with you in the direction of the main buildings. The bell rang as you approached, and soon enough you were surrounded by students. Most of them had their own shit going on and paid no mind to you or Eddie. Some of them were interested in your fall from grace.

The walk was void of conversation, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. At the door of your classroom, Eddie spoke. “Feeling okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I think the valium worked,"

“Good. That’s good… Well… knock ‘em dead, kid,” Eddie said, punching you in the shoulder so gently you hardly felt it.

“Thank you, for everything. I…”

“S’okay. Just… Remember. You’ve only got a year left here. Then you’re okay. Whatever else is going on, it doesn’t matter,” Eddie said, his gaze falling on your classmates as they approached. You nodded. “See ya around.” All you could do was nod, because how you felt as he stepped away from you was beyond your capacity for words in the moment.

CHAPTER 2

End Note: Future chapters will likely be longer; the overall word count is at 12,000 and I am nowhere near done. Let me know your early thoughts and feelings!

Find me on AO3 here. Want an Eddie Munson zine? Check it on on my Insta.

Eddie Taglist (Open): @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Let's Make a Deal

Inspired by this post; in the same universe as this and this and this

Warnings: non/dubcon, power imbalance, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: desperate times bring you to desperate measures.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Is it self-pity or self-loathing that has your skin crawling? You can’t quite discern between the emotions rotting in your stomach. All you know, is you can’t stand yourself. 

You’re here and you’re not turning back now. You might not have a choice but it’s still a choice. This is what you’ve resorted to. You shudder as you stand at the door of the townhouse. You stare at the doorbell above the little speaker box and every doubt rattles in your head. 

‘Seeking companionship. Women without prior experience preferred’. 

You always laughed at the desperate, if not trollish, postings. How ridiculous. You always just scrolled on by, assuming them to be no more than a pathetic attempt at phishing. And if they were real, well, that’s even more pathetic. 

Even standing there, you can’t be sure it isn’t some scheme. Yeah, you emailed the man behind the ad. You even spoke on the phone. Several times. Trying to be sure but you’re still not. 

No one else knows you’re there. You’re too embarrassed for that. It’s foolish too. You could be murdered and no one would know. You’re trying not to think of that. You focus instead on what you stand to gain. 

You reach and press the button before common sense gets the best of you. As you wait, you look down at yourself. It’s just what he wanted. ‘Wear a red dress. That way I know it’s really you’. You grit back another wave of disgust. 

The door opens and you’re not ready. How can you be? It’s the first time you’re seeing him but not the first time he’s seen you. You can’t even hope that he’ll be repulsed. 

You’re silent. Both of you. You gape at him and he stares back. It turns to a leer as his throat bobs and he pushes his shoulders back. He’s bigger than you expect. At least he isn’t the slobbish, greasy man you expected. Not on the outside at least.  

“Hi, sweetie,” it’s the same voice from the call. His name is Steve. “You look...” his eyes skim up and down your figure, “well, I can’t really see. You got this coat on.” 

You force a smile. Your cheeks feel tight. You can’t speak. 

“No need to be nervous,” he grips the door as he holds it open, “hey, why don’t you come inside? You must be freezing out there?” 

You nod and step through the door as he stands back. The warmth feels even more stolid as heat roils within you. You look around the entryway. The subtle ripple of the dark hardwood paneling and the old-style banisters. You feel smaller standing inside. 

“Let me take your coat,” he tugs on the sleeve.  

You don’t stop him. You shrug it off as he strips it away. He turns to hang it in the closet behind the front door and you hug yourself as you take it all in. Not just your surroundings, but your situation. He is a stranger but you’re going to do what you have to do. 

“I like that dress,” he startles you as he comes up next to you. “It’s cute.” 

You glance down. It’s the only red dress you have. It’s not even yours, actually. You borrowed it from a friend and never wore it. 

“Thanks,” you finally find your voice. 

“Mm, you sound sweet,” he rests his hand lightly on your back and you feel like melting as heat radiates off of him. “Let me show you around.” 

You can only nod. Once more, all sound has evaporated from you. You let him lead you into the next room. A living room just as nice as the front hallway. There’s a fireplace and antique fixtures and the furniture is a cozy shade of cream. There’s exposed brick above the mantel as fire burns behind and iron grate. 

You rub your arms, shivering despite the stuffy air. He takes you into the dining room, open to a kitchen with dusty blue counters and deep oak finishes. This place is nice. Big. Much better than the loft you’ve been curled up in for the last two weeks. 

“We can check out upstairs later if you just wanna get settled,” he offers. 

You look at him, cheeks pinching as your throat constricts. He’s tall. His hair is blond but his beard is dark. His shoulders are broad, even beneath his brown jacket, and his grey tee is stretched across his thick chest. You’re entirely outmatched, more than physically. 

“It must be tough. Too bad about the job.” He says. 

You draw away, turning your face down as you crumple in shame. Fired, almost homeless, this is your one way out. He’s nice enough. The place is clean. He is too. But it’s just too much. It can’t be real. 

You did everything right. You graduated high school. Got your degree. All on time. You worked your butt off through both of those yet you could never break through to more than temp work. Now it’s all dried up, just like your contract. They promised you full-time but it never came. 

“Sorry, I know you probably don’t want to talk about that,” he says. 

You shuffle around and go to the mantle. You stare at the flames. You don’t think they’re hot enough to thaw the ice creeping over your heart. This isn’t fair. 

He might be polite, he might be generous, but he’s still some guy looking for a ‘situationship’ on the internet. And you answered. 

You hear him behind you. The floor groans with his weight. You lift your chin and admire the wooden clock on the ledge. You suppose having money can’t help the loneliness. Silence wraps around you, building a shell. 

“Come here,” he says, shaking you from your trance. 

You blink and turn to him slowly. You drop your arms. You push away the chagrin needling your forehead and face him completely. He sits on the couch, legs wide, arm across the back. 

You’re jarred at the sight of him. His chin is down and his eyes are pinpointed on you. You hesitate, fingers fluttering, and make yourself move. One foot, the other, then the first again. 

The glean in his blue eyes chills you. His gaze follows you like an animal. You stop only an inch away. 

“It’s a nice house,” you say. “I don’t mean to be quiet--” 

“I get it. You’re nervous,” he reaches to grab your hand then sits back, tugging you closer. “But you don’t need to play shy.” 

He moves you towards him. He brings his arm off the couch and shifts your hip around as he leads you between his legs. He pushes until you fold, sitting on his leg, teetering on it uneasily. He lets out a gritty hum and urges you to lean against him. 

He curls his arm around your back to keep you in place and brings his other hand up to stroke your cheek. His eyes bore into you. He presses his knuckles to your cheek and brushes his thumb along your lower lip. 

“You’re even more beautiful up close,” he rasps. 

“Thank you,” you utter, lip trembling against his thumb. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he toys with your mouth, tracing it as his fingers dig into your hip. “I can take care of you. You like the place, right? You’ll be comfortable here.” 

“Sure,” you gulp. 

He purrs and pushes his thumb through your lips. You flinch in surprise. He prods at your tongue at he turns his hand to grip your chin, keeping his finger hook in your mouth. 

Your gaze meets his. His eyes search your face as they darken. He takes a deep breath and pulls you closer. He shudders in excitement. 

“I always wanted someone like you, sweetie,” he drags his thumb out of your mouth and wipes the moisture down your chin. He tickles along our throat as you shiver. “So pretty, so pure.” He plays with the collar of your dress, trailing along the vee as he gives a hum. “Are you nervous for your first time?” 

You hold back a whimper. Him saying it out loud makes it real. Coming here, walking through this house, sitting on his lap, those should be enough but those worse are more vivid than anything. You blink and nod. 

“It’s okay, sweetie,” his hand travels down the front of your dress. “I’ll be gentle... until you can take all of me.” 

[covenha]

Synopsis: seonghwa harnesses the power of manifestation to get himself a girlfriend. Pairings: Simp!seonghwa x fem! reader Genre: crack, fluff, just seonghwa being a silly goofy guy Warnings: witchcraft technically? astrology is also mentioned WC: 1577 a/n: another self-indulgent fic is done! wrote this after i finished an exam so read at your own risk. i might right more bonus blurbs for this but who knows. this is a piece of fiction so it does not reflect who the characters are irl. please read the warnings carefully! and as always, reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated 🫶

Simp!hwa had been content with silently pining over you. That is until one day he asked for a sign from the universe if he should confess. He was walking down the streets of his neighborhood while on his way to school with a little skip in his step, excited to see you. He was nearing Mrs. Nesbit’s house, an old lady with a splotchy memory but a kind heart. He stops to wave at her as she sways back and forth on the rocking chair on her porch. Then, as if she read his mind she goes, “Hurry up or you’ll miss it!”

Was this it? Was this the universe finally telling him to shoot his shot with you and confess his profound love for you? 

Well, the answer was no. Mrs. Nesbit was referring to the bus two blocks away ready to leave Seonghwa’s delusional ass behind. But it’s fine. He didn’t really care. All he really cared about was figuring out how to get you to fall in love with him so that you guys grow old together and live out your best lives with your two cats and moss ball babies. 

Now, Seonghwa knew that he had to approach this from a proactive standpoint. Sure, you and him have been friends since both of your awkward emo teen phases but he really wanted to cement in his chances with you. So he turned to the one place he knew he could get somewhat decent love advice from; Reddit. And with the wise words of Wefishyfishy98 he knew what he had to do. If he really wanted this he needed to use the power of manifestation. 

Simp!hwa wore your hair tie on his hand with pride. He read somewhere on twitter that girls liked to “mark their territory” with things like this and he grew weak at the knees thinking about you staking your claim on him. (Of course, in a completely normal and non-a/b/o kind of way.) I mean isn’t this such a boyfriend thing to do? He was clearly using the power of manifestation or whatever that fish guy said on Reddit. 

And this is why, when summer grew closer and the weather grew warmer, Seonghwa absolutely did not want to return it to you. 

“Hwa, C’mon it’s hot and I don’t want my hair sticking to my neck.” 

“Look, I can get you a new set of hair ties! Here, look at these cute ones I found on Etsy.” He tried to distract you with some cute kuromi hair ties he just found. Jongho is just silently observing the interaction between the both of you. 

You found it weird that he refused to give it to you even after you pestered him to but you decided to just give up and tough it out. And those ties on Etsy were kinda cute. 

“Fine. I guess the weather isn’t so bad today. What are you even doing on Etsy anyway?” you try to take a peak at whatever Seonghwa is looking up on his phone to which he quickly turns it off and puts it screen down on the table. 

“Nothing!” You seem a little taken aback by this. “Just… looking for plants for my… aquarium.”

“You mean your aquarium filled with moss balls… a plant. You want to get plants for your plants?” you blink at him. 

“Technically they’re algae.” Jongho butts in. 

“Right…. Well, at least you’re passionate about your moss balls?” you trail off. 

Seonghwa breathes a sigh of relief as Jongho nods on to you changing the topic to something about your mother’s extensive cacti collection. He opens up his phone again and clicks the order on his Etsy cart. 

“I hope this works.” He thinks to himself. 

That same night, Seonghwa started wracking his brain trying to think of something else that he could do that was “boyfriend coded”. And after much deliberation while staring at the ceiling, it finally hits him. She should be my lock screen! I mean nothing screams boyfriend like a cute candid picture as my lock screen. 

So, with this in mind, he scrounges through his gallery looking for a good photo of you to put as his lock screen. Then he spots the perfect candid of you in his living room sitting on the floor with lego pieces scattered all around the floor trying to assemble his lego death star with him. You aren’t looking at the camera, instead you look completely locked in on building the superweapon of the Empire with him. He stares at the image with a warm feeling spreading throughout his body. Without even realizing it he’s smiling like an idiot at his screen and he buries his head on his pillow and screams into it while kicking his feet on his mattress. 

That night he dreams of a distant future with you. One where he can call you his. Oh, and of course you can’t forget your two cats Lily and Bongo, and his ever growing collection of marimo balls.  

A week and a half later, he’s checking his phone every few minutes and then looking at the front door waiting to see if the delivery truck has arrived. Today was your birthday and the gift that he had bought you was running dangerously late. Which is why when he hears a truck nearing the property he all but zooms off the living room couch and to the front door. He accepts the package from the delivery man and quickly unboxes it. 

“It’s perfect.” he thought, smiling to himself as he delicately put it in a bag.

Later that day, as he walks you home just in time for you to have dinner with your family he surprises you with the gift. 

“Wha- Hwa? I thought we weren’t doing gifts this year?” you say as you accept the small paper bag from him. 

“Well, I say this and I just couldn’t not get it for you.” he just smiles at you shyly as you look at him, surprised at the gesture. 

“Now, I have to get you a gift worth two birthdays next year.” you joke. 

“You’re the best gift life has to offer.” he thinks. But he shakes his head, a dumb smile on his face. “Open it.” he motions to the gift. 

You open and find a couple kuromi hair ties, just as promised. But also, a jewelry box with a bracelet inside. It had a dainty gold chain and a baby pink stone in the middle. 

“Hwa, I love it.” you smile at him. “It’s so pretty.” you inspect the bracelet. 

“Here, let me put it on you.” he gets the bracelet from the box and clamps it around your wrist. He smiles at the sight of you wearing the bracelet. 

He unfortunately had to leave because it was getting dark and he had to feed his cat at home. But, he swears he feels something in the air that night. 

“Please work.” He mumbles to himself. 

In hindsight, what Seonghwa felt that fateful night was probably just pollen, because the very next day Seonghwa finds Jongho coming down with a bad case of allergy sniffles. The cafeteria is filled with the sounds of chattering from hungry sleep-deprived college students and Jongho’s sneezes. 

“So, did you finally give her that rose quartz bracelet you bought from that Etsy witch?” Seonghwa’s cheeks burn at his words. 

“Yea. It was a good time too. Venus was in mercury gatorade or something.” he mumbles while picking at the skin on his thumb. 

“Ahem.” You startle both boys with your presence. You raise your eyebrows at both of them and decide to end their misery of staring at you with their mouths open in shock. “What’s this about an Etsy witch?” 

“I do not recall saying Etsy witch.” Jongho mumbles quickly then packs up his things, muttering some excuse about buying a gatorade from the vending machine. Seonghwa just sits there, mouth agape, trying to stutter out some excuse but nothing coherent falls from his mouth. 

“Hwa, you know you didn’t have to summon the forces of magic and astrology to make me fall in love with you right? I kinda already am.” You blush as you admit your feelings for your best friend. 

Simp!hwa’s brain malfunctions hearing this. Heart pounding, mind racing. Did she just... Did she just say that? She likes me? Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh! I can’t believe this is happening. I’ve been waiting for this moment for what feels like forever. What now?! I didn’t actually think I would get this far. Shit what happens next. Do I shake her hand? No, that would be weird. Just say something, Seonghwa! Say something!

“Will you be my manifested girlfriend?” he asks in a dazed voice. This makes you giggle before you shake your head then decide to kiss him on the nose. “It’s about time.” 

Seonghwa wastes no time in going in for a kiss. It felt like fireworks were going off in the background (it was just Jongho having a massive sneezing fit). The moment was perfect. It was magical. You guys stare into each other’s eyes and it felt like all was right with the world. As the both of you pull away from the kiss, Jongho sits down at the table with a purple gatorade. 

“You know it's actually mercury retrograde, right?” 

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝—𝘉𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘹 (𝘧𝘦𝘮) 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

A Stray Kids one shot

Synopsis: The company found out about Chan dating you and in order to save his idol life, he is forced to break up with you. The both of you saw this coming but the heartbreak is unbearable…

Warnings: BREAK UP ONE SHOT. Smut🔞, unprotected sex, Oral (f. receiving), pet names, heartbreak, angst, tears.

Minors do not interact!!!

Note: This isn't a loving one shot but a heartbreaking one, just a practice because I wanna explore writing angsty scenes. It's VERY different from my usual work, so I really hope you'll enjoy this...

If this isn't your thing, you're more than welcome to skip it. Reblogs, likes, comments and feedbacks are always appreciated.

ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ɪᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪʟʟɪᴏɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴘᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.

Word count: 3.9k

𝑬𝑵𝑱𝑶𝒀!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The sound of the clock ticking in the once warm apartment felt like stabbing a nail through your head.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Time doesn't stop flying. And God you'd do anything to stop it or go back to relive certain moments which are now memories. Time slips through our fingers like sand, no matter how tightly we try to hold it.

The air was suffocating, thick with tension, unspoken words that refused to come out. Your eyes never left the floor and you could feel his eyes looking at you, his heart torn between regret and determination.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this—you had promised each other that. But some things were beyond promises, beyond dreams, beyond even love.

“You knew this could happen, right?” Chan’s voice was a soft whisper, as if saying it out loud would make it real.

Your throat tightened, your eyes blurring with tears that you tried so hard to hold back. Of course it had come to an end. The universe was cruel, pulling two souls together only to tear them apart.

You nodded, feeling the weight of every unsaid word pressing on your chest. "I knew," you murmured, the words barely finding their way out.

A flicker of pain crossed Chan’s face, and he took a deep breath. “If there was any other way… you know I’d choose you. Every time. But I can’t... I can’t risk everything I’ve worked for. It’s not just about me—it’s the group, the fans...”

You bit your lip, desperately wanting to say something, anything to make him stay. But deep down, you understood. You always had.

The two of you risked it and spent the night together at a hotel, when a company staff spotted Chan with a mysterious woman. The following morning Chan was called into the headquarters where he was met with cold stares and harsher words.

The company laid out the stakes in brutal clarity; his career, his group, everything he’d worked his whole life for, would crumble if he continued this relationship. There was no room for compromise, no softening of the blow. Chan had been forced to choose.

He was lucky that this remained in the walls of the company, but that luck came with a price. They had made it clear that they’d bury the scandal, keep it from reaching the public as if this had never happened, but only if Chan ended things immediately and distanced himself from you completely. They were giving him a way out, but it was one he’d have to take alone.

And now, in the echoing silence of the apartment, with everything unravelling around you both, the gravity of that choice felt like an anchor around your heart.

Chan’s eyes fell to the floor, his shoulders heavy with the weight of guilt. “I never wanted it to come to this,” he said, his voice breaking. “But if I don’t… if we don’t…” His words trailed off, as though even he couldn’t bear to say them.

A bitter laugh escaped you, though you hadn’t meant for it to. “So, what? We just pretend none of this ever happened? That all of this was nothing?”

He flinched, and you saw the flash of hurt in his eyes. “No… no, it wasn’t nothing. You know it wasn’t.”

You shook your head, the tears you’d fought so hard to hold back finally spilling over. “Then why does it feel like it is? Why does it feel like I’m just… another sacrifice?” You couldn’t look at him. If you did, you felt like you’d lose your mind and crush your already broken heart.

Chan closed the distance between you, his hands resting on your arms as he pulled you close, his forehead touching yours. “You’re not a sacrifice,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re everything to me. That’s why this hurts so damn much.”

Your eyes remained closed, cheeks red and warm, breaths shallow and broken, as if anything you both could come up with would ever be a solution for what was about to happen. Chan held you against his chest, letting your aching tears soak his hoodie. He was holding back, he had to stay strong for the both of you.

You clung to him, fingers fisting in his hoodie, as if holding on tightly enough could somehow prevent the inevitable.

He stroked your hair gently, whispering soft words of comfort, though he knew, just as you did, that no words could fix this. Each breath he took was slow and measured, as though he were struggling to keep his composure, but you could feel the tremble in his chest, betraying the pain he was trying so hard to hide.

After what seemed like eternity, you pulled away from him and finally looked into his eyes through your blurry vision. Chan’s eyes locked with yours, encouraging you to say what you want to say at this moment.

“Chan,” His hand cupped your face. “Kiss me.” You said softly.

And so he did. Without a word escaping, his mouth crashed with yours, hungrily, desperately, as though he could pour every ounce of his love, everything left unspoken.

His hands tightened around you, pulling you closer until there was nothing between you but the pounding of your hearts. The kiss was fierce, filled with a longing so deep it felt like drowning.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, taking in his taste, his scent, allowing yourself to memorise every part of him till you were nothing but lost in the feel of him and everything outside ceased to exist.

Fierceness turned into anger as you both stumbled towards the bedroom, tearing your clothes off. His hoodie, your shirt, his shoes, your pants, until you both remained in nothing but your underwear.

Chan broke apart but came back with a roughness that sent a thrill through your body as he pushed you onto the bed and towered over you, sliding off your panties and unclasping your bra. Every inch of you was on liquid fire as Chan discarded his boxers, putting your legs up his shoulders as he buried his face in your wet heat.

A loud moan escaped your lips as his tongue feasted on your soaking cunt, lapping away your sweetness and getting drunk at the way you taste.

Your hands fisted his hair as you grind your needy pussy up his face, Chan groaned sucking on your clit like a man starved.

“Fuck baby,” His fingers gripped your soft thighs continuing his merciless assault on your throbbing nub. “Can never get enough of you.”

All you could do is moan at the way he worshipped you with his mouth and the low, husky sound of his beautiful voice.

He came upwards, kissing a hot trail over your pubic bone, your stomach, giving so much attention to your sweet nipples and crashed his mouth on yours as he sank into you in a slow, deliberate thrust.

Your body arched as you drank every drop of him, welcoming his huge length, letting him stretch you and fill you up completely. Your heart ached but your body responded to him the way it always did.

Eager and desperate.

Chan palmed your breast, swiping his thumb over the hard, sensitive nub slick with his saliva as he pounded into you in an agonising yet sweet pace, hitting spots that made you see stars over and over again.

“Chan…Chan please,”

Pleasure consumed you both whole, a hiss escaped his lips when he heard you moan, a sound that drove him insane, a sound he could listen for the rest of his life.

“Hmm, what do you want darling?” He pinched your nipple just as he slammed into you that tore a sharp cry from your throat.

I want you. With me forever

But those words couldn’t come out of your mouth. So all you could do was moan for him to go faster and harder. His fingers stroked your clit with the perfect pressure, you wanted him to keep pushing you further and further.

Nails dug into his back as he gave you what you asked for, the dimly lit room filled with moans and whimpers and skin slapping against skin. Chan’s mouth never left yours as he thrusted into you in force that felt like ecstasy, your orgasm tore through you as you came all over his cock.

He followed you soon after, a hot load of his cum gathering inside you, groaning into your neck, his huge body over you.

Sweat misted your skin, neck and chest covered in a trail of hickeys, the two of you kept climbing and crashing together for the next hour.

Every moment was perfect, like whatever that was happening before was just a bad dream and nothing was going wrong in the world. Chan wanted this to be the only thing to last a lifetime, you pressed against him, to wake up to your good morning texts, to sneak out with you in secret, to stretch this moment for however long he could take.

From sweet love making to hard fucking that left marks on your skin, you both pretended that this was the perfect life as if nothing is about to shatter you apart forever, reached till you passed out breathless on the bed.

Chan held you in his arms, a tension beginning to rebuild when the quiet room began to fill with the soft; Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

You stirred in his arms, and Chan’s grip instinctively tightened around you, his warmth seeping into your skin as if he could brand this moment into memory. He wanted to say something, anything, to tell you how much you meant to him, how deeply he wished this night could be endless.

“Bang Chan,” an icy voice cut through the tense conference room, the PR’s voice cutting through the silence, “you know why we’re here.”

Chan’s jaw tightened, his heart already beating hard in his chest. He nodded, though his mind clung desperately to the hope that this conversation would turn out differently than he feared.

“It’s come to our attention that you’ve been seen with…” The executive hesitated, the distaste in his tone achingly clear. “A certain individual. You know the implications this has, not only for you but for the group as a whole.”

Chan’s fists clenched under the table. "I know," he admitted, voice low but steady. "But she’s not just anyone. She’s—”

"She’s a liability," another manager cut in, eyes hard as steel. "You’ve worked years for this career, Chan. Years. We’ve all sacrificed too much for it to be jeopardized by… personal entanglements.”

“She’s not a liability,” Chan said, fighting to keep the anger from his voice. “She’s important to me, and I’ve been careful—"

“Careful?” The PR head shook his head. “If you’d been careful, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You were lucky it was Miss Jia who spotted you. Can you imagine the disaster that would have come if it was a fan or paparazzi?”

Chan’s face paled as the PR head's words hit him with the weight of harsh reality. He’d been cautious, always looking over his shoulder, timing each meeting down to the minute. But deep down, he knew they were right. No amount of care could guarantee safety from prying eyes forever.

"We’ve considered all the options, and there is no room for compromise on this. The only way to protect your career is to end this relationship, quietly and immediately.”

A wave of dread settled over him, pressing down like a weight he couldn’t shake off. He swallowed, his throat tight. "So you’re asking me to choose… between her and everything I’ve worked for?"

"No," the executive corrected him coldly. "We’re telling you to choose your career.”

The ultimatum struck like a wrecking ball, leaving him feeling hollow and defeated. He glanced down at the table, the polished surface reflecting back his own tortured expression.

He’d known there was a risk—had tried to prepare himself for something like this. But hearing the words was like a knife twisting in his chest.

“I… I need time to think,” he said, barely recognizing his own voice, rough with emotion.

“There’s no time, Chan,” his manager replied softly, though the finality in his voice was unmistakable. “If you care about her, if you truly want what’s best for her… you’ll understand that this is the only choice.”

A painful clarity began to settle in as he saw the faces around him—faces he had trusted, faces he had worked with for years. And there, hidden behind their demands and their concern for the group, was an unforgiving reality.

Slowly, he nodded, his face etched with an unimaginable kind of pain.

“Fine. I’ll… I’ll end it.”

But his voice caught in his throat, the weight of goodbye pressing down on him like an anchor.

You sensed his struggle, you lifted your head to look at him. In the dim light, you could see the tears glistening in his eyes, barely held back. Your heart clenched, a sharp pang of pain blooming inside your chest as you realized the inevitable was catching up to you both.

"Don't look at me like that," you whispered, your voice trembling, but you managed a sad, fragile smile. "It’s going to make it harder.”

Chan let out a shaky breath, his fingers reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face, his thumb lingering against your cheek. “I don’t want to make it harder,” he replied softly. “But I… I don’t know how to let you go. I can't let you go.”

“Then don’t,” you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “Just...” You sighed heavily.

You took his hand, holding it against your cheek, feeling the warmth of his palm, the calluses that spoke of years of dedication, of sacrifice, qualities that had once made you admire him and had now become the reason he couldn’t stay.

The irony was cruel.

“You know it’s not that simple. If I could…” His voice broke, and he took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure. “If I could choose anyone, anything, I’d choose you, every time.”

“I know…” your voice trailed off. You smiled, your chin wobbling as you looked at him with those for one last moment. Time has come. You have to leave.

Regret and guilt splashed across Chan’s face as he realised your expression, you reluctantly pulled away from him and started changing into your clothes.

The warmth he’d given you faded instantly, replaced by the icy grip of reality that hung heavy between you. Each movement felt slow, as though you were wading through something thick and unyielding, like your body refused to obey the decision your heart could barely stand.

Chan watched you as you slipped into your clothes, he pushed the blanket over and changed into his shorts, and gripped your wrist as you both made it to the living room.

You turned quickly and looked at his grip then at him, his beautiful woody brown eyes refusing to let the tears fall but they rimmed red, the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, the love and pain.

“I’ll be okay,” you said, as much for yourself as for him, though your voice wavered. “Someday, I will be. And so will you.”

His eyes shut tightly, as if the words were a physical blow, and he nodded, though you could see the struggle etched into his features.

“Promise me,” he murmured, his voice breaking. “Promise me you’ll be okay. Even if I’m not there.”

You swallowed back the sob that threatened to escape and nodded, squeezing his hand. “I promise.”

A tear slipped down his cheek, and he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, then your cheeks, then your lips, each one a goodbye of its own. You let him, savouring each moment, each touch, letting it wrap around you like armour, a last memory to keep close when everything else is gone.

“I'm sorry I broke your heart…”

You could have sworn that you heard a genuine crack in your chest the moment those words left his lips. Your hand slapped over your mouth to cover the shattering sob that threatened to consume you.

You looked up at Chan, tears running down your cheeks, smiling painfully, stroking his cheek.

“My heart is yours. Yours to love, yours to keep, yours to break.”

Chan pulled you hard into his embrace, finally letting his tears fall, your hands gripping his back, as you both cried your hearts out to each other one last time.

Snippets of your shared moments crowded your mind—all the cute dates, late night facetimes, sweetly secret gifts, Chan introducing you to his members—there was no room to breathe.

“I'm sorry…I'm sorry…I'm sorry…” That's all he could say. That's all he was allowed to say.

Your fingers brushed through his hair as you held him close, memorizing every detail, knowing this would be the last time. The warmth of his skin, the feel of his chest rising and falling against you, the scent that was uniquely his—it all wrapped around you, making it even harder to breathe, harder to let go.

“Chan…” you whispered, voice trembling. “Even if I walk away now, even if you have to let me go… I’ll still love you. I’ll always love you.”

“I’ll love you, too. No matter what.” His voice broke again, barely holding back another wave of grief. “In some other life… maybe we could’ve had forever.”

There was a universe somewhere, you believed, where you and Chan got to share all the dreams you whispered to each other late at night, where you didn’t have to be a secret, where his love didn’t have to be a risk.

But not here. Not now.

You softly pulled him and leaned up, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, feeling the final feel of his skin against your lips. “Goodbye, Chan...” you whispered, the words catching in your throat.

He closed his eyes, as if it would help make it easier, but his hand lingered in yours a moment longer.

“Goodbye, my love…” he breathed, his voice no more than a broken whisper.

With every ounce of strength you had left, you let go, turning and walking out of the apartment. The sound of the door clicking shut behind you echoed like a death sentence, filling the silence with finality.

Each step you took away from him felt heavier, as though pieces of your heart were left scattered on the floor behind you. You tried your hardest not to look back, knowing that if you did, it would only pour salt to the already deep wound.

Inside, Chan impulsively grabbed the vase that was sitting on his coffee table throwing it at the wall, which shattered in a powerful crash that felt like a gunshot and collapsed back onto the couch, head falling between his hands as he let the grief he’d been holding back flood over him again.

The empty apartment was now as cold and hollow as he felt, each memory of you hanging in the air like ghosts he could never escape. And as he sat there, drowning in the silence, he could almost still feel the warmth of your embrace, the lingering traces of your touch that would fade too soon.

All that remained now were echoes—the echo of your voice, your laughter, all slipping through his fingers like sand.

And he knew, no matter what, he’d always carry this ache with him, a part of his heart forever held by someone he was never meant to keep.

Some goodbyes leave scars, not because love wasn't enough, but because it was everything.

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xx,Ivyy

[aasouthteranoswife]

The Monster’s Heart

Summary: Sukuna Ryomen, a feared yakuza leader whose ruthless reputation is challenged when he meets y/n, a gentle café worker who serves tea near his headquarters. Their unlikely romance blossoms as y/n’s warmth begins to thaw Sukuna's cold exterior, leading to a passionate but tender relationship. When rival yakuza attack the café.

A/N: Hi Hi I'm kind of back. Here an old works but with a different character. Please give me some love ❤️ 🥹

Warning(s): Violence and gunfights, References to organized crime,Mild blood/injury, Romantic intimacy (explicit),References to physical scars, Themes of moral ambiguity,Mild language, Emotional intensity.

Word Count: 4,000

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT Reblog’s and feedback are appreciated

Sukuna Ryomen was a force of nature—a man who had clawed his way to the top of the yakuza world with cold, calculating precision. His reputation was built on bloodshed, ruthless decisions, and a heart that no longer had room for anything but power. He was the kind of man whose name alone could silence a room, whose eyes could freeze anyone in their tracks. A leader without equal, feared by all, trusted by none. For Sukuna, emotions were weaknesses—things that only got in the way of his ascent.

That is, until he met her.

Her name was y/n, and from the moment she stepped into his world, everything began to change.

Y/n wasn’t like the other women Sukuna encountered. She wasn’t a hardened fighter or a cunning manipulator. In fact, she wasn’t like anyone he had ever known. She was sweet—“too” sweet, some might say. Her smile was like sunlight breaking through the storm clouds of his life. Y/n’s soft laughter filled rooms with an innocence that felt like a foreign language to him. She was gentle and kind, untainted by the darkness that had consumed everyone around him.

She worked at a small café near the yakuza offices, serving tea and pastries to the men who walked in and out of the building. Sukuna’s men would often stop by for a drink, but he never had any interest in the ordinary staff—until her laid eyes on you.

Her presence irritated him at first. Her overly cheerful disposition, the way she greeted him with that polite, unassuming smile whenever he visited. But over time, something began to shift. He found himself watching her from the corner of his eye, mesmerized by the way she moved, the way she spoke, and the unshakable warmth she carried in her gaze.

One evening, after a particularly grueling meeting with rival factions, Sukuna walked into the café, his eyes cold and tired. His men scattered in a hush as they noticed his presence, but you remained standing behind the counter, unaware of the tension in the room. Her eyes were bright as ever, focused on the task at hand, and for a brief moment, Sukuna was struck by the sheer “normalcy” of it. The contrast between his world of violence and her world of simplicity.

She caught his gaze as he approached the counter, and for a heartbeat, he felt something he couldn’t quite name.

“Good evening, Sukuna ,” you greeted him, her voice soft, unperturbed by the weight of his reputation. You didn’t even flinch when he slid into a chair, her smile as genuine as always. “The usual today?” You said with a smile.

Sukuna said nothing at first, merely watching her as she poured him tea with careful, delicate movements. The sight of her was so… out of place, so out of sync with everything he knew. He had never met anyone who wasn’t afraid of him, who treated him like a “person”, not a monster.

You placed the mug in front of him with a small bow, as your eyes linger for just a moment longer than necessary. “Is everything alright, Sukuna? You look like you could use a bit of rest.” Patting him on the shoulder. He tensed up from your touch.

Sukuna’s red eyes narrowed, a hint of irritation flickering beneath his usual impassive expression. “It’s none of your business,” he replied, his voice low and flat, but there was something in the way he said it—something softening, something… conflicted.

You didn’t back down. Instead, you just smiled again, your voice a little quieter this time. “It’s not my business, but if you’re tired, I’m happy to make you something special. You’ve been coming here for weeks, and I still don’t know what you like outside of tea.”

Sukuna said nothing for a long moment, his gaze lingering on her. Something inside him shifted—something that he had long buried, something fragile, almost like a memory of a life he’d never allowed himself to have. It was absurd. He shouldn’t care. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to look away from you, not when she had become the only thing in his life that wasn’t tainted by blood or betrayal.

“I don’t need anything special,” he muttered, but the words felt hollow in his own ears.

You tense at his words, but instead of retreating, she leaned forward slightly, her gaze gentle. “You know, Sukuna, everyone needs something “special”sometimes. Even people like you.” Kissing him on the cheek.

Sukuna’s heart thudded loudly in his chest, and he didn’t know why it felt so different this time. He couldn’t understand it.

-——————-

Days turned into weeks, and Sukuna found himself visiting the café more frequently, though he never admitted to anyone why. You became a fixture in his life in a way that no one else had, her kindness an ever-present force in his otherwise dark existence. He watched as she interacted with his men, as they cracked jokes and spoke to her like she was just another face in the crowd, but Sukuna saw something more. He saw how they softened around her, how they were drawn to her warmth.

And, slowly, Sukuna began to realize something: the thing that scared him the most was the way he felt when you weren’t around.

-—————————-

One rainy evening, after a particularly violent confrontation with a rival gang, Sukuna found himself standing outside the café, drenched in the cold, heavy downpour. He didn’t know why he was there. His men were cleaning up the mess, and he should’ve been heading back to the compound. But all he could think about was you.

He walked in, wet and disheveled, and you immediately looked up from behind the counter. The warmth in your eyes never wavered.

“Oh my good,” you said, rushing toward him with a small towel. “You’re soaked! Let me—”

Before you could finish, Sukuna pulled you close, his hands wrapping around your waist, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. The sudden motion startled you, but you didn’t push him away. Instead, you placed your hands gently on his chest, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

“Sukuna…” she whispered, his name so soft on her lips.

It was then that everything that had been building inside him erupted. Without thinking, he lowered his head and kissed you—soft at first, tentative, as if he was testing the waters, afraid of what it might mean. But when you didn’t pull away, when you leaned into him with an almost desperate tenderness, he deepened the kiss, the world around them disappearing.

In that moment, he realized something terrifying: He was in love with you.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and dazed, Sukuna rested his forehead against yours, his voice gruff. “I can’t lose you, y/n. Not you. Not to anyone. If anything happens to you—if you’re ever hurt—there will be nothing left of this world. I will burn everything down for you.”

Your heart fluttered at the raw sincerity in his words, and for a moment, you didn’t know whether you should be frightened by the intensity of his feelings or comforted by the vulnerability he had just shown. But one thing was certain: Sukuna Ryomen, the monster everyone feared, was a lover on the inside.

And she was the reason why, he not longer cold- hearted.

——————————-

All of a sudden the quiet street suddenly erupted in chaos. Three black SUVs screeched to a halt outside the café, and men in dark suits poured out, their weapons glinting in the rain. The Ishida clan—Sukuna's oldest rivals—had tracked him here.

Sukuna's eyes narrowed as he recognized Ishida Kenji, the clan's second-in-command, emerging from the lead vehicle. "Ryomen!" Kenji called out, his voice cutting through the rain. "Your territory grab today crossed a line. We're here to settle this."

Through the café window, Sukuna could see you frozen behind the counter, your eyes wide with fear. His jaw clenched. Of all places, they had to bring their war here—to your sanctuary.

"You're making a mistake, Kenji," Sukuna's voice was deadly calm as he stepped away from the café entrance, drawing their attention away from the building. "Whatever grievance you have, we handle it elsewhere."

Kenji's laugh was sharp. "Since when does the great Sukuna Ryomen care about collateral damage?" His eyes flickered to the café, and his smile turned cruel. "Unless... ah, I see now. The rumors were true."

The first shot came without warning. Sukuna moved like lightning, drawing his own weapon as he rolled behind a parked car. The street erupted in gunfire, the sound of breaking glass and screaming civilians filling the air. Through the chaos, Sukuna's mind remained razor-sharp, focused on one thing: keeping the fight away from you.

He took down two of Kenji's men with precise shots, then used the cover of rain to move closer to their position. His movements were fluid, efficient—the product of years spent surviving situations exactly like this. But this time was different. This time, he wasn't just fighting for territory or respect. He was fighting for something more.

A bullet grazed his shoulder, and he responded by putting a round through the shooter's knee. The man went down screaming. Three more approached from his left, but before they could fire, Sukuna's own men—who had been trailing him—arrived on the scene, evening the odds.

Through the firefight, Sukuna caught glimpses of the café. His heart nearly stopped when he saw you helping elderly customers escape through the back door, your face determined despite your terror. Even now, you were thinking of others.

"You've gone soft, Ryomen!" Kenji shouted, emerging from behind his car with a shotgun. "Love makes men weak!"

Sukuna's response was a bullet that shattered Kenji's right shoulder, sending him sprawling. In three quick strides, Sukuna closed the distance between them, kicking away Kenji's weapon. He pressed his foot against the man's wounded shoulder, earning a howl of pain.

"You're wrong, Kenji," Sukuna's voice was ice. "Love doesn't make men weak. It gives them something worth fighting for." He leaned down, his expression murderous. "Remember that when you wake up in the hospital. And remember this: if you or anyone else ever brings violence near this place again, what I did to your men today will seem like mercy."

The fight ended as quickly as it began. As his men secured the area and called their cleanup crews, Sukuna rushed into the café. He found you in the back room, helping an elderly woman calm her breathing.

When you saw him, you didn't run. You didn't scream. Instead, you walked straight to him and wrapped your arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest. "I was so worried," she whispered.

Sukuna held you tight, his heart racing not from the fight, but from the simple fact that you were still here, still holding him, even after seeing what he was capable of. "I told you," he said softly, "I will burn everything down for you."

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with something between fear and understanding. "I don't want you to burn anything down," you said. "I just want you to stay alive. Stay with me." As he kissed you all over your face.

In that moment, as the rain continued to fall outside and distant sirens wailed, Sukuna realized that perhaps he had been wrong all along. Emotions weren't weaknesses—they were power of a different kind. And you had given him the most powerful one of all.

"I'm not going anywhere," he promised, and for the first time in his life, he meant every word. Giving you a long deep passionate kiss.

———————————————

Later that night, after the chaos had settled and the cleanup crews had restored order to the street, Sukuna insisted on taking you home. To your small apartment was a few blocks from the café, a modest space that somehow felt just like you—warm, inviting, untouched by the darkness of his world.

"You should let me check that wound," you said softly, gesturing to where the bullet had grazed his shoulder. Your hands trembled slightly, but your voice was steady.

Sukuna wanted to refuse—he'd had far worse injuries—but the concern in your eyes made him relent. He sat on your couch while you retrieved a first aid kit. When you returned, you carefully helped him remove his jacket and shirt, her fingers ghosting over his skin.

You gasped softly at the sight of his other scars—testament to years of violent survival. But instead of recoiling, you traced them gently, your touch filling him with a warmth he'd never known. No one had ever touched him like this—like he was something precious rather than something dangerous.

"Does it hurt?" You whispered, carefully cleaning the graze on his tattooed shoulder.

"No," he replied, his voice rough with emotion. But he wasn't talking about the wound.

When you finished bandaging him, your eyes met his. The air between them crackled with unspoken words. Sukuna reached up, cupping your face in his calloused hands. Your skin was soft as silk against his battle-worn fingers.

“Y/n," he breathed your name like a prayer. "You should be terrified of me. After what you saw today..."

You leaned into his touch, your eyes never leaving his. "I've never been afraid of you, Sukuna. I see who you really are—not what the world has forced you to become."

Unable to resist any longer, he pulled you onto his lap, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. You melted against him, your hands sliding up his bare tattooed chest to wrap around his neck. The kiss was different from your first—more desperate, more intense, filled with everything you two couldn't say.

When you finally broke apart, breathing heavily, Sukuna rested his forehead against yours. His hands trembled as they held yours, this beautiful, pure thing that had somehow found its way into his darkness.

"Stay with me tonight," you whispered, her fingers intertwining with his. "Just... stay."

Sukuna's heart thundered in his chest. He had shared countless nights with others, but this was different. This wasn't about passion or power or fleeting pleasure. This was about trust, about letting someone see past his carefully constructed walls.

He slowly pulls off your clothes you were wearing as he did with his. He slowly made way to your small bedroom.

That night, you two laid together in your small bed naked, your head resting on his chest, your bodies intertwined. He held you close, feeling your body heat, breathing in the sweet scent of your hair, feeling the gentle rise and fall of your bare chest against his. For the first time in his life, Sukuna felt at peace.

In the quiet darkness, you traced patterns on his skin, your touch both innocent and intimate. "I love you," you whispered, so softly he almost missed it.

The words hit him like a physical blow. In his world, love was a liability, a weakness to be exploited. But here, in this moment, with your warm weight against him and your heart beating in sync with his, he realized that love could also be strength.

"I love you too," he replied, the words foreign but right on his tongue. And in that moment, Sukuna Ryomen—the feared yakuza leader, the man who had built his empire on blood and steel—surrendered completely to the gentle soul who had awakened his heart.

You both fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms, two worlds colliding and merging into something new. Outside, the rain continued to fall, washing away the day's violence, while inside, finding shelter in each other's embrace.

For the first time in his life, Sukuna's dreams weren't filled with blood and shadows. Instead, he dreamed of soft smiles and gentle touches, of a future he never thought he could have. And when morning came, he would wake to find it wasn't a dream at all— you were still there, real and warm beside him, living proof that even in the darkest of lives, love could bloom.

—————————————

Sukuna woke to unfamiliar warmth and the soft glow of dawn filtering through sheer curtains. For a moment, he tensed—years of survival instincts kicking in—until he felt you shift against him, your breath soft against his chest. The events of the previous night flooded back, and something in him softened.

You looked angelic in the morning light, your hair spilled across his chest, her face peaceful in sleep. One of your small hands rested over his heart, as if even in sleep you were trying to protect it. The sight of you stirred something profound in him—a feeling of tenderness he'd never known he was capable of.

Your eyes fluttered open slowly, and when you saw him watching you sleep, your lips curved into a sleepy smile that made his heart skip. "Good morning," you whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his chest.

"Morning," he replied, his voice rough with sleep. His fingers traced lazy patterns along her spine, making her shiver slightly.

You propped yourself up on an elbow to look at him properly, her hair cascading around them like a curtain as the blanket fell down revealing your bare chest. The morning light caught eyes, making them shine. "You stayed," you said softly, wondering in your voice.

"I'll always stay," he promised, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face. The gesture was so tender, so unlike his usual self, that it surprised even him.

You leaned into his touch, then bent down to kiss him, slowly making your way on top of him. The kiss was soft at first, gentle with lingering sleep, but quickly deepened with growing passion. Your hands explored the planes of his chest while his tangled in your hair, pulling her closer.

Slowly grinding yourself on his hardened cock before pushing him inside you, making you throw your head back in pleasure. He finally grabbed your breast, twisting, and pulling at your hard nipples, as you let out a moan.

With heavy breathing, you rested your forehead against his as you continued to move your hips on his cock "I never want this morning to end," you admitted.

Sukuna rolled your gently so you was beneath him, protected within the cage of his arms. He looked down at her—this woman who had somehow managed to crack open his hardened heart—and felt overwhelmed by the depth of his feelings. As he starts, thrusting in and out of you to get to your high.

"Then let's stay here," he said, lowering his head to press soft kisses along her neck. You moaned like music to his ears. "The world can wait."

You spent the morning lost in gentle touches and tender kisses, learning each others bodies . Every sigh, every whispered word of love, every shared moment of intimacy felt like healing to Sukuna's battle-worn soul. You cummed together.

In his world of violence and power, gentleness had always been a foreign concept. But here, with you, he discovered that true strength could be found in the softest touches, the quietest moments, the most tender expressions of love.

Later, as you lay tangled in the sheets with his cum still inside you, you traced the tattoos on his chest while he played with your hair. The morning sun had climbed higher, but neither of you made any move to leave the peaceful sanctuary.

"What are you thinking about?" You asked, noticing his thoughtful expression.

Sukuna was quiet for a moment, considering. "About how different everything is with you," he finally answered. "How you make me want to be different."

You raised your head to look at him, your eyes serious. "I don't want you to be different. I just want you to be you—all of you, even the parts you think I shouldn't love."

Your words struck him deeply. In his world, love had always come with conditions, with expectations of change. But you loved him completely, darkness and all.

He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You're dangerous," he murmured against your skin.

"Me?" You laughed softly. "I'm just a café worker."

"You're the most dangerous person I've ever met," he said seriously. "You make me vulnerable. You make me want things I never thought I could have."

You lifted your face to his, your eyes full of love. "Then have them," you whispered, before kissing him again.

In that moment, as the morning light painted your skin glowed and your hearts beat in sync, Sukuna realized that he had finally found something worth more than all the power in the world—he had found home.

And it was here, in your arms, that he would always return.

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aasouthteranoswife © 2024-2025 All rights reserved. Do not repost, reupload, modify, or claim my work as your own.

[bugoutreviewgirlie]

hey all! this is an ongoing passion project of mine and it'd mean an incredible amount to me if you guys checked it out and shared it!

[ayoharuko]

Valentines with Him! Part 3: Rafayel

Welcome to the last part of this min series! Which ends with our favorite artist, Rafayel of course!

If you haven't read part 2: Click this - Valentines with Xavier

Reader here is Female (she/her) :)

I hope you guys enjoy reading~!

Reminder: The character belongs to INFOLD/ its respective creators; this is all just fictional work so please try to not take these too seriously :)

I was walking towards Rafayel's house because it was valentines day and he wanted us to go on a date, however…I insisted that the date be at his house because their have been a lot of Wanderer sightings lately and I didn't want me and Rafayel to go through trouble.

I reached the front of the gate and as always its unlocked. So I went in and just locked the gate behind me, I opened the door to his house and I saw him at his usual spot; on top of a ladder facing a huge canvas. I sighed and and crossed my arms and coughed to get his attention.

Which worked as he looked towards me; “I though we were gonna have a date today?” I asked raising a brow up and silently judging him, to which he responded with the same type of sassiness I showed with a huff. “You were taking so long, I didn't wanna die from boredom ya know” He said, making sure to empathize the word 'die'.

I rolled my eyes at him as he slowly climbed down from the ladder; “So…what do you want us to do now?” He asked dusting his clothes. “You decide, its your house ya know” I said and he pouted at me; “Whaaatt? Come on…you literally insisted we stay at my place for the date..” He said pouting at me as I sigh. “Alright alright…how bout you teach me how to paint on a canvas? If you have leftover-” Before I could finish my sentence he grasped my hand and pulled me towards the couch and sat me down.

“How about we paint? That should be a nice activity right?” He asked and I felt embarrassment bubble inside of me….

“Uhm…Rafayel, your the artist here I'm not really good at drawing” I said shyly looking down at my lap; “So? Everyones an artist in their own way whether it'd be an ugly drawing or a good one” When he said that I looked up at him with shocked eyes…….

After some time he went to grab the materials needed for our little activity, when he came back; he gave me a medium sized canvas, pallet, and paint brushes.

He nodded and we started our activity. I decided to paint the ocean, it was simple enough since I knew I wouldn't be able to paint anything too hard or complicated.

I gently stroked my brush against the canvas; the canvas being painted in sky blue to mimic the reflection of the sky in the water. In the corner of my eye, I saw Rafayel taking glances at me…

I put my paint brush aside and put my full attention on him; “Did I get paint on my face or something?” I asked tilting my head to the side.

“You..actually did” He said and he stood up and went over to me, sitting beside me and moving his hand and face close to mines. I stared into his eyes, seemingly lost in them like the vast ocean. Before a second could pass I felt his soft lips on top of mines, this cheeky artist has stolen a kiss from me…

I blushed into the kiss and closed my eyes soon after, letting myself fall deeper into his charms as I felt his warm hand that was touching my cheek caress it; while the other hand was slowly stroking my tights. Suddenly our painting activity was forgotten as he took my canvas from me and sat his and mines aside gently.

As soon as his lips left mines I put a hand over my lips and glared at him; “You liar….” I mumbled as he smirks smugly, “Hm. I guess I was mistaken, there was no paint stuck on you” He said smugly; I blushed and smacked his shoulder gently as he laughs in amusement.

Me and Rafayel stayed in the position we were in (I was pinned below him) while we stared at each other, he then leaned his head on my chest and encircled his arms under waist to hold it.

I stared down in shock but all he did was snuggle his head deeper into my chest….

I sighed and slowly brought my hand to his hair and started stroking his soft hair, it was silent for a few minutes until he spoke; “Lets…just stay like this, I like hearing your heartbeat..” He said holding me tighter, I could feel my heart beat faster and I knew he could hear it.

“I…Rafayel..” I muttered his name in a hushed tone as I blushed, “I know…my hearts beating fast too..” I heard him say and my heart started beating a little more faster which I didn't even know was possible; “Remember our promise Miss Bodyguard?” He asked and he brought his face up while letting his arms hold his body weight.

“Yea..I do” I said, it was the promise that we made back when he was admitted in the hospital; how could I forget that?

He smiled pecked me on the nose, nuzzling his face to mines; “Its a good thing you remembered this time” He said and I raised an brow at that, “This time?” I asked with curiosity.

“Must have misspoken, don't mind that” He said and he leaned closer to my face once again, this time I knew what was coming and closed my eyes as I expected the kiss.

I heard him chuckle and felt his breathe on my lips; that was soon replaced with his lips. We kept kissing and kissing until the sun went down.

Until the ocean calmed down.

Until I couldn't feel my lungs.

The words that I heard from him before I fell into a daze was words I knew I wouldn't forget easily even when we're separated.

“I love you. My Beloved Bride.”

Thank you for reading this far~!

I'm so sorry that I finished Xavier's and Rafayel's late T^T

I hope I'll be more consistent these coming months, I've been pretty busy lately; with moving and pretty much everything in my personal life has been pretty hectic. Tho I hope the boys (Raf, Xav and Zay) have made your days a little brighter! Also, if anyone wants my UID in Love and Deepspace; just slide into my ask box and I'll gladly drop my UID for you guys ! :3

Anyways; thank you again for reading this far and I hope you guys enjoyed the read~!

Reblogs are appreciated and Feedback/Comments are always appreciated! :3

(Note: please don't copy and paste my works anywhere, and if you do see them on other platform please inform me.)

[bang-bang-gang]

fic update tonite 👀 fic update tonight queen? fic update 👀

we got someone working through an anxiety attack, people talking about their feelings (wowzers!) and maybe some light bad decision-making. also, there's a secret third person who flirts with swerve (not renee this time) and you'll have to read to find out who.

[that-angry-noldo]

"Why did you choose them?"

There is a cold, almost dark curiosity in Eärwen's voice; she tilts her head, glaring at her husband in the light of a poorly lit room.

It is an unfair question, Eärwen knows. Whatever answer Arafinwë gives, she won't be satisfied with it. She watches him struggle, watches words flying through his mind, thoughts racing eachother.

She waits.

What will you say, she thinks, how will you answer? Will you make excuses, will you deny it all?

Arafinwë looks to the window. It's pitch black outside - not even stars shine through the heavy fog of clouds. Eärwen can notice him biting the inside of his lip - a gesture she's all too familiar with; it is ironic, something so well known feeling so distant. (She feels satisfaction. Dark, vengentful satisfaction - true, he hides his nervousness well, but Eärwen still picks up at his signs: how his fingers tug at his sleeves, how his head is just a tad bit tilted, how his lips are slightly pursed. Good, she thinks. You should be nervous.)

"What do you want to hear?" he asks quietly, and looks at her.

Eärwen wants to laugh, or maybe to strangle him. She can't quite decide.

"The truth," she finally says, and smiles sharply. She's hurt, and the wound she was healing all these years is opening again; she's desperate, desperate for her husband to break, to admit he was wrong, to beg for her forgiveness on his knees.

Arafinwë's eyes look straight through her. Eärwen hates it, how he can read her so well after all this time of estrangement. He lowers his head.

"I can give it all to you," he says. "I can tell you I was going for our children, because that would be true - I couldn't stand the thought of leaving them alone, I couldn't stand a thought of abandoning them, not after I abandoned you already. I can tell you I was afraid, and it would be true, too - because I am a coward, and I was a coward, and a coward I will forever remain. I can say it was my egoism, and you will laugh, because you surely called me so countless times already; because in my heart, I was as swayed by the promises of new undiscovered lands as my people were. So tell me, Eärwen Olwiel, what do you want to hear?"

"I," Eärwen Olwiel growls, "want to hear the truth."

Arafinwë jerks his head, and there is challenge in his eyes.

Eärwen feels grim satisfaction.

"I will tell you, then," he says, and his words are bitter. "When I arrived, all I saw were flames. I saw my brother stained with blood, horror on his face. And then, in one moment, I felt pain. Strangling, stiffling pain - I'm sure you felt it, too."

Eärwen grits her teeth. (Her heart stings. Elulindo's death was a weeping wound on their house. It still is, though her brother is between the living again - but he's not the same, he'll never be the same, things will never be the same as they were.)

"And it was confusing," Arafinwë continues, dark and bitter. "Because there I was, standing on the white sand, though it was red, and there was fire all around me - yet all I felt was that strange, new absence; what could it possibly be? And I heard my brothers talking and shouting, and I saw my children around me - they were horrified, Eärwen, Artanis was shaking, and Artaresto-"

Arafinwë takes a sharp breath, and shuts his eyes; he sways a slightest bit before speaking again.

"Findaràto was by my side all that time," he says. "He asked if we should keep moving. I didn't answer, because all I saw were flames, and sand, and pain. Everybody went, so I went with them, and I know- I know, I should've stopped, I should've screamed, but- but I didn't. It hurt. I felt like something was torn away from my very core, and it stung. Every step, it stung. I saw ships passing us, and they felt like a dream. It wasn't real - it felt like a vision, a very detailed, a very horrifying vision; but it hurt, and I couldn't understand why. And - I know it's not an excuse, I know I should've known better - but Findaràto was right there, and I thought, if he's going, it surely must be alright. So I went, and it kept getting colder, and colder."

Eärwen is silent. (The wound, she thinks, never even started to heal, and every Arafinwë's word feels like a new one opening.)

Arafinwë takes a breath.

"Then," he says, "came Mandos, and all the pieces fell together - the blood, the fire, horror on Nolofinwë's face; and all of it came crashing back. Every step, every tear, every word. I howled. I howled, no - I went mad. I reached for Elulindo, and I-" he stops again, and his face is pained, eyes glistening with tears - "I couldn't find him. I felt nothing but void."

The room is silent. Eärwen thinks back to her brother, her brave, her brilliant, her reckless brother, and her heart wants to weep.

"I stormed to Feanàro. I saw nothing but him, with that proud, insufferable scowl on his face. I though of a sword on my hip. I wanted to kill him, I wanted to tear him apart, I wanted to drown him, to burn him, to- he laughed me in the face. You came this far, he said, and it's only now you realize our path is marked with blood? And - I looked at Nolo. I always looked at Nolo, you know? Lalwen was right by his side. They didn't move. They looked right at me, yet they didn't move. I turned around, and I saw my children, and they didn't move."

Arafinwe closes his eyes, and Eärwen feels chills running down her spine when he laughs, swaying, high and weak and hysterical. Tears run down his face, and he presses a hand to his mouth, trying to stiffle his reaction, to even his breath; it lasts for long minutes, and Eärwen wants to leave. The wind howls outside, and Arafinwë's eyes focus on unsteady light of the candle. Finally, he turns to her.

"Here," he says weakly, "you know the truth now. I was weak, and I was a coward, and - and I- and you- this explains nothing, that excuses nothing, but-"

There's no hope in his eyes, she notes, detached. He looks frail in candle's light, weary and afraid; Eärwen purses her lips, and hopes he doesn't notice them trembling.

"I don't forgive you," she says, quiet. "I'm hurt. By you, and by your kin, and that wound is too fresh to be healed by one confession."

What was left of light in his eyes fades; he looks away.

"I understand," he whispers. "I thought so. I'm sorry."

Eärwen wants to say something else - that her heart bleeds not only for her people and family, but for him too; that her empty bed is unbearable some nights, that she misses his touch, that she craves his presence oh so badly some days; but she purses her lips and orders herself to be silent, to be proud, to be cold.

She turnes away and leaves the room.

They part ways, covered by night.

Eärwen sits in her bed. She wants to shut her marriage bond completely.

She sits, and sits, an she never does.

[allisonreader]

I really need to be going to bed. But what am I busy thinking about? Trying to figure out how to introduce the idea of Inklings Sprints for this year and how I need to revamp my initial write up of it from last year. Debating whether I should make a side blog to run it from. If I should call the side blog Inklings Sprints as I certainly don't want to step on any toes but it is an idea related to the @inklings-challenge by @fictionadventurer . Plus I'm wanting to talk about it early enough that a few potential dates can be set so that people all over are given the chance to maybe try if they so desire.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The House Guest 10

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: an old acquaintance calls in a favour, leaving you with an unexpected house guest.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You stare through the window as hammering echoes through the glass. Despite the muffling of the barrier between you, it’s loud enough to put you on edge. Or maybe that’s because of the man calmly bringing the iron down on the nails. 

As if he can sense you, he looks up, his dark hair flopping back. You quickly spin away. You have to be going stir crazy. Bucky was just concerned. A lot of people come up this way and get freaked out by the wilderness. You used to when you visited as a child. 

You go back to the kitchen and take out the ingredients for your grandma’s classic turkey stew. It’s always a comfort as the temperature starts to drop. Still, it’s never as good as she made it. One day, you might figure out the secret. 

Cooking is a good distraction. There isn’t much to do up here. Often, you enjoy that facet of your existence. You work then disconnect and just do your own thing. Now you can’t help but feel the desolation. 

Thunk, thunk, thunk. The hammering continues. You put the turkey into roast. It’s always better to season and cook it first then shred it up for the stew. You set the broth to simmer with the chunked veggies and pace the kitchen as you wait for it all to come together. 

You use a fork to pick the meat of the turkey legs and dump it all in the boiling pot. Another hour to meld together and it’ll be ready to serve. The longer you let it, the better. It’s always best the day after. 

The silence doesn’t hit you until you hear the back door. The smell of pine follows Bucky inside. You put your attention to the pot and stir it. 

He sniffs and sighs loudly as he enters. “Ah, smells delicious. Chicken?” 

“Turkey,” you correct him as he twists on the faucet and squirts soap into his hands. He lathers up and looks at you. “It’s funny. Back in my day, not to sound like a crotchety old geezer, women cooked. They had recipe cards on the counter. These days, half the girls I talk to can only use some app to order pizza that tastes like ketchup on cardboard.” 

“Oh, yeah? I kinda miss fast food,” you say dully. 

“Huh. ‘Cause I miss the home cooking. It’s just... simpler.” He shuts off the tap and shifts closer, drying his hand on the dishcloth as he looms. “If it hadn’t all gone to shit, I probably woulda found a good woman. Settled down, lived the good life.” 

“Right,” you nod awkwardly and set the spoon down.  

He clicks his tongue and turns, putting his hand on the counter as he leans on one foot. His other hand goes to his hip. “But then I wouldn’t be here.” 

“Fair,” you say, distancing yourself as you step around him to get to the fridge. “I got some cider left over? Want some? It’s mulled. Julian down by the Rocks makes it--” 

“Think I’m good,” he says. 

You put the large glass jug on the counter and open the cupboard. Bucky catches it and shoves it closed with a snap. You face him in surprise. He’s strong. You know that but feeling it is something else. 

“Sorry, I... I’m in your way?” You wonder. 

“No, you’re right where you should be,” he says. 

You try not to lean away from him. Your heart is racing. You swallow and peer over at the dimming window. 

“I could help you cover up the lumber before--” 

“Already did that,” he interjects. “You know, I think I’m where I need to be too,” he edges closer. “Think after everything, I did find that good woman.” 

You blink, speechless. You can barely think above the tempo behind your ears. 

“I hear it.” He puts his fist to his chest and knocks on it. “I know you feel it too.” He stills his hand and holds it over his heart. “I was pissed when Sam brought me up here. Dropped me off like some stray dog. The longer I’m here, the more I realise he did me a favour. He didn’t dump me on you...” you wince as he pulls his hand away from his chest and opens it to cradle your face, “he gave me you.” 

“Bucky,” you latch onto his wrist but can’t move it. “I think we need some space. Don’t you?” 

“No,” he says flatly. 

“You spend too much time in the same proximity, and it starts to get weird--” 

“No,” he repeats. “I’m right. It’s perfect. You’re strong, you cook, you’re handy, not afraid to get a little dirty,” he slides his hand down to cup your chin. You flinch but can’t pull away. “And you got a nice ass.” 

“Bucky,” you breath and gently shove his chest. “I’m saying to you that you’re wrong. I’m flattered and all but no.” You push harder as he squeezes tighter. You whimper, “ow, let me go. I’m calling Sam-” 

“Shh,” his other hand swoops up to back of your skull. He lurches you closer, bringing you to your nose as he snarls down at you. “You’re not calling anyone.” 

“Bucky--” 

“It’s the way you say my name,” he growls. 

“Please, you’re hurting me--” 

He hushes you again as his thumb rubs behind your jaw. He turns you so your penned in against the counter. You splay your fingers across his chest, dragging them down to his stomach as you push on him. He stands unmoving. 

“Let go--” 

“You. Let go,” he insists calmly. “You built this wall around you. Let it down,” he drops his hand from your head and lets it trail down your back, “let me in.” 

“No, I’m telling you.” You squirm against him. “Stop this, right now.” 

“I know you want me. I found that toy. The little flower, hm?” He tickles along your side, your jaw aching in his grip. “You wanna feel the real thing? Huh?” 

“Please,” you clasp the fabric of his shirt in your fingers. 

“Doll, I want you think about this,” he buries his thumb behind your jaw until you whine. “You’re up here all by yourself. Lonely days, lonelier nights. Anyone could catch on. They could figure out just as fast as I did.” He leans in until you’re nearly bent backwards. “You need a man because any old beast could snatch you up.” 

Your eyes glisten and you search his face. He doesn’t look human. He’s animalistic. His eyes are dark and dilated and his jaw is set with slathering hunger. Your lip trembles. 

"Wouldn't you rather have the beast on your side, doll? Instead of tearing it down?” He purrs and shifts his hand around your chin, bringing his thumb up to poke at your lower lip. “I can be good for you, all you gotta do, is the same.” 

[taegularities]

…about cmi10 :')