#but now it just seems like an afterthought

[ikeucity]

moonstruck. | chapter one pt 2 - smoke and surrender

warning. contains explicit sexual content, drug use, angst, domination, spacestation!au, slight action, slow burn, strong language, intense sexual tension, a more technologically advanced iss, explicit fantasies, and adult themes. reader discretion is strongly advised. mdni.

wc. 30k

with just 24 hours left until the drug is supposed to completely take effect, the crew is on the brink of losing control. with the clock ticking and their self-restraint nearly shattered, tensions are boiling over, fights breaking out as the crew's patience wears thin.

── .✦⸝⸝ previous chapters: ✦ pilot - locked in orbit ✦ chapter one: orders from above pt. 1

disclaimer. this story is a work of fiction and does not represent real-life events or the members of enhypen

"whose fucking idea was this? how is this supposed to be physical wellness?!" jake yelled, firing off rounds as simulated monsters closed in, his shots barely connecting. ducking behind a boulder, he cursed under his breath, frantically reloading next to jungwon, who, of course, was unbothered, calmly taking out each alien with unnerving precision.

"jake, for the love of—keep it down," jay muttered, hunkering behind some debris, irritation etched into every line of his face. sunghoon was right next to him, visibly pissed at the situation—or maybe just pissed off at jay. "why are you yelling like it's gonna help?"

"why are we even acting like this shit matters? it’s a simulation, we’re not actually gonna die," sunghoon mumbled, frustration slipping into his voice as he aimed and shot an alien in the head, the kill almost too clean. then, as an afterthought, he added, "right?" his confidence faltering for a second.

"got 'em all cleared over here," heeseung’s voice crackled through the comms, way too relaxed for the chaos unfolding. he was enjoying this a little too much, his gamer instincts taking over. "let’s regroup," he added, his voice carrying a smugness that made it clear he was thriving in this chaos.

you, on the other hand, were perched up high, hidden behind the walls like heeseung had suggested. you were chilling, taking your shots at the aliens whenever the opportunity arose. the tech was impressive, too—real guns, simulated ammo, the kind of shit that made you wonder how much had changed on earth while you’d been up here.

"that was sick," you breathed, more to yourself than anyone else, marveling at the seamlessness of the whole setup.

"how are you so calm right now?" jake shot back, glancing over at jungwon in disbelief. jungwon, not even breaking a sweat, methodically picked off another alien, his demeanor unshaken.

"this is supposed to help us de-stress," jungwon said evenly, his voice calm as ever over the comms, making it sound like he was explaining a basic fact rather than shooting his way through an alien horde.

"de-stress my ass," jake muttered, clearly not convinced. his frustration was evident, not just with the situation, but with the fact that you weren't near him.

he could tell you weren’t paying him much attention anymore, and that fact stung more than the simulation itself. maybe it’s because the other guys keep hovering around you.

as if sensing jake’s irritation, sunghoon chimed in with a bite to his words. "yeah, well, some of us don’t need to act like it’s life or death just to get through it." his eyes flicked over to where you were perched, his annoyance obvious.

he’d noticed, too. noticed how the others, especially jungwon and heeseung, seemed to be getting more time with you than he was comfortable with.

"cut it out, sunghoon," jay muttered, his patience thinning as he reloaded his weapon. but sunghoon didn’t seem interested in backing down, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he returned to firing at the simulation.

after regrouping, you all found yourselves in a dimly lit cave module. the uneven terrain was tricky to navigate, and you brought up the rear, jungwon in front of you.

it wasn’t long before your foot slipped on a loose rock, and you stumbled. the pain was minimal, but a whimper escaped your lips before you could stop it, echoing through the confined space and over the comms.

everything stopped.

jay whipped his head around, his hand gripping his weapon a little tighter. "you alright?" his voice was tense, concern barely masking the shift in the air.

"she tripped," jungwon said smoothly, moving to your side in an instant, helping you back up. his hand on your waist lingered, fingers pressing a little too firmly as he steadied you. "you good?" he asked softly, though it felt like more than just checking on your physical state.

you laughed it off, embarrassed. "yeah, i’m fine."

your voice, however innocent, carried a weight over the comms that made the others pause, especially jake, whose gaze hardened as he watched jungwon’s hand on your waist. too close.

"what happe- i’m coming," jake muttered, already moving toward you before sunghoon stepped in his way, shooting him a pointed look.

"she’s fine," sunghoon said, his voice sharp, almost defensive. his eyes flicked toward jungwon, clearly annoyed by the way he was handling you. "focus on the task, jake."

jake hesitated, torn between frustration and concern, but nodded, falling back in line. still, his eyes lingered on you for a moment too long, watching jungwon’s arm wrapped around you.

heeseung’s voice cut through the comms, his usual commanding tone laced with something a little more possessive this time. "she’s good to go. let’s keep moving."

you could feel the tension rising, the air between you all charged in a way that had nothing to do with the simulation. jungwon kept close to you, his arm steady around your waist as you continued walking, his touch burning through the fabric of your suit. it felt deliberate, like he was making a point—both to you and to the others.

and then there was sunghoon. his eyes hadn’t left you since the stumble, the irritation practically radiating off him. he wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore.

the way jungwon was practically glued to your side, the fact that heeseung kept sneaking glances your way—it was all too fucking much. they were taking up way too much time with you, and it was getting under his skin.

jake, on the other hand, felt the shift. he saw it unfolding right in front of him—how you were being pulled in all these different directions, each one of them fighting for your attention. but what bothered him the most was how you weren’t looking at him like you used to. it was because they were circling you like vultures, wasn’t it?

he was first. he made the moves. you flirted back, smiled at him like you meant it. you wanted him too, didn’t you? he was sure of it. so why did it feel like you were slipping away?

but sunghoon couldn’t stand the way jungwon was glued to your side, his eyes constantly flicking to the hand that rested on your waist, each touch like a silent taunt. "jungwon," he said, his voice laced with irritation, "how about you give her some space?"

jungwon raised an eyebrow, not even pretending to hide his smirk. "why? she doesn’t seem to mind."

before sunghoon could fire back, jake cut in, his frustration finally spilling over. "both of you, knock it off." his eyes flicked between them, his voice tight with anger. "we’ve got enough to deal with here without this shit."

sunghoon’s eyes flared, his irritation clear as he took a step forward, squaring his shoulders. "that’s not the point, jungwon," he snapped, his voice dripping with frustration. "you’ve been glued to her since this started. give her some damn space."

jungwon didn’t back down, his smirk only widening as he glanced at you before turning his attention back to sunghoon. "like I said, she doesn’t seem to mind." his voice was calm, but there was a sharpness to his words, a deliberate jab that made sunghoon’s jaw clench.

"are you fucking serious right now?" sunghoon shot back, his fists tightening at his sides. "you act like she belongs to you."

"and what about you?" jungwon countered smoothly, tilting his head. "acting all territorial when you’ve barely even talked to her today. what’s your deal, sunghoon?"

jake, who had been standing off to the side, couldn’t hold back any longer. "both of you need to shut the hell up," he barked, stepping between jungwon and sunghoon. his eyes flicked briefly to you, frustration etched deep into his expression. "this isn’t about who’s getting more time with her. we’re in the middle of a fucking activity. so maybe focus on that instead of—"

"oh, and you’re one to talk?" sunghoon cut him off, his eyes narrowing in challenge. "you’ve been sulking ever since she stopped paying attention to you."

jake’s face reddened, his teeth clenched hard enough to crack. "i’m not sulking." but even as the words left his mouth, he could feel the truth in sunghoon’s accusation sinking in.

the jealousy gnawed at him more than he’d like to admit. the possessiveness that had been building up inside him was getting harder to ignore.

"i’m pissed because you idiots are making this harder than it needs to be. we’re supposed to be working together, but you two are too busy fighting over her like it’s some goddamn competition."

jungwon, standing with his arms crossed, scoffed, eyes sharp. "you’re just mad because you feel like you’re losing."

"what the fuck does that even mean?" jake growled, stepping closer to jungwon, frustration blazing in his eyes. but deep down, it stung—jungwon had hit too close to the truth.

jake wasn’t used to this feeling, this irrational need to keep you closer to him, to be the one you turned to. it was messing with his head in ways he wasn’t ready to admit.

sunghoon, still glaring at both of them, muttered under his breath, "fucking whatever," not even bothering to hide his disdain.

"shut up," jake snapped, his voice rising, a sharp edge of anger slicing through his words.

the tension in the room had reached its peak, every word dripping with jealousy and frustration, neither side willing to back down. jungwon held his ground, cold and unyielding, while sunghoon looked ready to snap.

and there you were, right in the middle of it all. their possessiveness weighed heavy, wrapping around you like a suffocating blanket. the way they argued, the intensity of their stares—it overwhelmed you, each word pulling you deeper into their desires.

it wasn’t just about them fighting with each other anymore; they were fighting for you, and you could feel it, the heat of their unspoken claims burning in the air.

"are you serious right now?" you snapped, voice cutting through their bickering. you’d had enough. "you’re acting like kids. this is a simulation, and all of you are too wrapped up in your egos to remember why we’re even here." your gaze landed on jungwon’s hand still resting on your waist, and you pushed it away, firm but calm. "stop treating me like a prize to fight over. it’s fucking embarrassing."

silence fell, thick and heavy. they looked at you, shock flickering across their faces. no one expected you to speak up like that, but they should have.

jay, who had been quietly watching from a distance, finally stepped forward, shaking his head. "she’s right," he muttered, his voice low but firm. "this isn’t about who gets more time with her. we’ve got bigger issues, and this isn’t helping anyone."

heeseung sighed, standing off to the side, clearly fed up with the situation. "you’re all making this harder than it needs to be," he said, frustration clear in his tone. "focus on the mission, or don’t, but stop dragging her into your bullshit."

jungwon’s smirk faded slightly as he stepped back, his hand dropping to his side. jake crossed his arms, still irritated, but held his tongue. sunghoon grumbled under his breath, jaw clenched, but the fire in his eyes had dimmed, at least for now.

"thank you," you muttered, tension still thick in your voice as you exhaled, trying to shake off the frustration. "we’re supposed to be a team. stop making it about me and start acting like it."

for a moment, no one spoke. the tension hadn’t disappeared, still simmering just beneath the surface, but at least the arguing had stopped.

heeseung gave you a nod, his gaze softening slightly. "let’s move," he said quietly, taking control once more. "we’re wasting time."

then, with a slight smirk tugging at his lips, heeseung muttered, "i ain’t about to lose a game." the tension shifted, just a bit, as nostalgia flickered in his eyes. the familiar competitive spark returned, and for a moment, it cut through the frustration.

"remember when we used to play shit like this back on earth?" he added, his grin widening as he readied his weapon. "except, you know, without all the drama over her."

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. heeseung had a way of diffusing tension, even if he wasn’t letting anyone off the hook entirely.

jake scoffed, shaking his head but appreciating the shift. "yeah, well, it’s a little different when it’s not a damn game," he muttered, though his tone was less harsh now.

sunghoon, still visibly irritated, mumbled something under his breath but didn’t push further. jungwon chuckled softly, finally easing out of his defensive stance.

"fine, let’s finish this," you said, stepping forward, done with the back-and-forth. you glanced at heeseung, who was already back in position, his cocky grin growing.

"don’t worry," heeseung teased, aiming down his scope. "i’ll carry the team—like always."

his comment did the trick, cutting through the tension like a knife. as he confidently took the lead, the atmosphere lightened, if only slightly. even jake let out a small sigh, shaking his head with a reluctant smile on his lips.

you glanced at them, your heart beating a little faster. something about seeing them like this—competitive, bickering, but still a team—made your eyes soften. the jealousy, the tension, it was all still there, but moments like this reminded you why you cared about them.

sunghoon, though still tense, chuckled quietly, watching heeseung with his usual cocky grin. jungwon’s smirk widened, and jay rolled his shoulders as if getting ready for the final round. even jake caught your gaze for a split second, something softer flickering in his eyes, like he was glad to see you smile again.

your heart swelled, a warmth spreading through your chest as you looked at them. these guys—they drove you crazy, but there was no one else you’d rather be stuck in this mission with.

“alright, let’s finish this,” you said, steady, a small smile tugging at your lips.

heeseung glanced back at you, his smirk softening just a touch before nodding. "let’s win this." his voice carried that familiar spark of confidence, pulling everyone back into focus.

when the simulation finally ended, you all stumbled back into the main area, adrenaline still thrumming through your veins. everyone was sweaty, breathless, but the thick tension from before?

it hadn’t gone anywhere. if anything, it had only gotten worse, like the simulation had fanned the flames.

you stood there, trying to catch your breath, but their eyes were still on you—all of them watching you, their presence took up too much space, pressing in on you from all sides.

heeseung, still panting slightly, broke the silence as everyone’s eyes shifted toward the scoreboards. his smirk was cocky, almost too confident, like he knew he was the top scorer. "good job, everyone. hq’s gonna love this," he said, wiping sweat from his brow.

jay, leaning against the wall, let out a dry laugh, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths. "yeah, if we don’t melt first," he muttered, tugging at his collar, sweat beading on his skin.

"yeah, real fucking great," sunghoon muttered, his voice sharper than usual. his gaze slid toward you, his jaw tightening as he wiped sweat from his face. "is it just me, or does it feel like my body’s on fire?" he asked, irritation clear.

you felt it too. the heat. it wasn’t just adrenaline from the simulation—it was deeper, more intense, creeping through your skin. you shifted, wiping sweat from your neck, the burning sensation only growing. it wasn’t just sunghoon; all of you felt it.

"fuck, it’s too hot in here," jake grumbled, his voice rough as he ran a hand through his damp hair, his eyes flicking toward you like he couldn’t help himself.

jungwon, furrowed his brows, glancing at you for just a second before looking away. "this doesn’t feel right," he muttered, barely loud enough to hear. mind already working, to think of a reason why

you nodded, feeling the heat crawl up your spine, tingling your skin. the room felt heavy, charged with something unspoken. "we’ll cool down in a bit," you said, though even you weren’t sure you believed it. "just… take a breather."

heeseung rubbed the back of his neck, his smirk fading slightly. "maybe it’s just the sim," he suggested, but even he didn’t believe it.

so what did you all do? it was like an unspoken agreement—avoidance. everyone was way too pent up, way too on edge, but there was a collective decision to just… ignore it.

to push through. no one said it out loud: stay away, keep your distance, pretend like you weren’t all about to fucking lose it. avoidance felt like the only option left.

it’ll only be a few more days, right?

those questions haunted every one of you. if you could just make it through the next few days… but deep down, you all knew what came after that. once the drug fully worked its way through your systems, once you had control again—if you ever did—none of you were going to hold back.

jake, jungwon, sunghoon, heeseung, jay—they all had the same hungry look in their eyes, even if they tried to hide it. they all had the same thought: if we make it through this without snapping, then what happens next? would any of you even be able to keep the floodgates closed once the pressure finally released? the thought was terrifying and thrilling all at once.

and yet, no one wanted to be the first to admit it. no one wanted to be the first to break the fragile illusion that you could all survive this, untouched, unscathed.

it was a cruel joke, really. why didn’t hq even think to send condoms or normal birth control pills? how the hell were you supposed to get through this when everything had been amplified to the point of unbearable? but then again, how would that even work up here? where do you even dispose of a condom in space?

you chuckled bitterly to yourself when you realized the answer. oh right. you don’t. every ounce of waste had to be accounted for. and birth control pills? those probably wouldn’t do shit anyway, not with the way your bodies were being pushed to their limits. being in space already messed with your systems—hell, your period barely functioned as it was. what the hell would a bunch of hormones do when everything else was already out of whack?

but hq—those assholes—clearly hadn’t thought any of this through. they sent you up here with experimental drugs and didn’t even bother to consider how those drugs would interact with the unique effects of living in space. maybe they knew, maybe they just didn’t care.

either way, it was a disaster waiting to happen.

and the worst part? you were all too far gone to care anymore.

on the sixth day, everything felt like it was teetering on the edge of disaster. you had done your best to avoid unnecessary contact, kept your distance, and stayed focused on the mission. but the air was thick, almost suffocating, and the tension you’d all been pretending to ignore was now impossible to avoid. it felt like you were all walking through a minefield, one wrong step and everything would blow.

you made your way to the helm, tablet in hand, your mind buzzing with the routine diagnostics you were supposed to be focused on. but then, without warning, you collided with sunghoon.

your body slammed into his, and for a moment, it felt like time stopped. the contact sent a shockwave through you, heat flaring under your skin as the air between you practically sizzled.

“watch where the fuck you’re going,” sunghoon snapped, his voice rough, thick with irritation. his hand grabbed your arm to steady you, but the touch lingered, his grip tight—too tight, his body rigid with the effort of keeping himself in check. his breathing was heavy, ragged, as if he was barely holding on.

“i—i didn’t see you, i’m sorry,” you muttered, trying to step back, but he didn’t let go. his eyes, usually cold and calculating, now burned with something much more dangerous—desire. anger. frustration. his jaw clenched, muscles flexing beneath his skin as he stared down at you.

“you think sorry’s gonna fix this?” he growled, his voice dripping with something darker.

“you think you can just walk around like this, pretending everything’s fine? look at us.” his hand dropped, pointing at the obvious bulge straining against his pants, his expression turning almost feral.

“we’re all fucked. we’ve been avoiding each other, without even fucking talking about it. because we know. we fucking know what’ll happen if we don’t.”

your breath hitched as his words hit you like a punch to the gut, the heat in the room only growing worse. your pulse quickened, your patience wearing thin. because, yeah, you felt it too.

the constant pull, the unbearable pressure building with every passing second—they were driving you to the edge of insanity. and now sunghoon, with his hard-on and his rage, was pushing you past your breaking point.

“and you’re not helping,” sunghoon continued, his voice low, venomous. his gaze was intense, his eyes locked onto yours, and you could feel the unspoken accusation in his words.

“what the fuck do you want me to do, huh?” you snapped back, your own frustration bubbling over. “you think this is easy for me? i’m trying to get through this just like the rest of you. but it’s getting worse, and i’m fucking losing it, too.” your voice shook with barely controlled anger, the heat in your body matching the fury in your words.

“yeah? well, you’re making it harder. look at me,” he gestured again to his erection, his eyes wild. “every time you walk into a room, it’s like this. and i can’t fucking take it anymore. none of us can.”

your patience snapped. the drugs, the tension, the constant avoidance—it was all too much. “you think i don’t feel it too?” you hissed, stepping closer to him, your body reacting to the proximity, the heat rolling off him in waves.

“you think i haven’t noticed the way you all look at me? i’m doing everything i can not to lose it. but right now? right fucking now, i want to fuck you so badly i can’t think straight.”

that shut him up. his eyes widened for a split second, shock flickering across his face before it was replaced with something far more dangerous. desire. raw, unfiltered desire. his lips parted, his breath coming in heavy, uneven bursts as he stared at you, his pupils blown wide with lust.

“then what the fuck are we waiting for?” he growled, stepping even closer, his body crowding yours, pinning you against the wall of the helm. his hand came up, gripping your waist, pulling you toward him. “because i’m this close to losing my shit, and if you want me, you better fucking say it.”

but before either of you could go any further, the door to the helm slid open, and heeseung walked in. his eyes immediately locked onto the two of you, and his expression darkened, taking in the tension, the heated air, the way sunghoon had you pinned against the wall.

“what the hell is going on in here?” heeseung barked, his voice cold, a sharp edge to it that cut through the room like a knife.

you and sunghoon turned to face him, both of you still breathing heavily, your bodies thrumming with unspent energy. you tried to step back, to regain some semblance of composure, but sunghoon didn’t move. his body was still pressed against yours, his gaze flicking to heeseung with a challenge.

“nothing,” you managed to mutter, though your voice was shaky, and you knew you weren’t fooling anyone.

heeseung crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing as he glanced between the two of you. “get it together,” he snapped, his tone leaving no room for argument. “we’re all fucking on edge, but you don’t get to let it turn into this.”

“you think i’m not trying?” sunghoon shot back, his voice full of frustration. “look at us, heeseung. it’s getting worse. we’re fucking losing it. and no one’s saying a goddamn thing.”

heeseung stepped forward, his eyes hard. “you think i don’t know that?” his voice was low, dangerous, as he stared sunghoon down. “but we don’t get to crack. not here. not now.”

sunghoon’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides, but he didn’t say anything. his body was still rigid, the anger radiating off him in waves.

“this ends now,” heeseung said firmly, his gaze locking onto you for a brief second before he turned back to sunghoon. “get out of here. cool down.”

sunghoon let out a bitter laugh, his eyes flashing with frustration. “cool down? yeah, sure,” he muttered, turning and storming out of the room, the door sliding shut behind him with a sharp hiss.

as the door closed, you let out a shaky breath, your body still trembling from the intensity of the confrontation. heeseung stood there for a moment, watching you closely, his expression unreadable.

“this isn’t over,” he muttered quietly, more to himself than to you.

as sunghoon departs, heeseung’s eyes burned with an intensity that made your heart race, locking you in place. the beeping from the console felt deafening, a sharp contrast to the heavy silence between you two. your jaw was still tight from the argument with sunghoon, your thoughts racing as you tried to make sense of it all.

you moved to leave, wanting to shake off the tension, but heeseung’s hand shot out, gripping your wrist firmly and pulling your closer. your breath hitched, the sensation overwhelming your already sensitive body.

the second his fingers reached out and brushed against your waist, it was like being jolted with electricity. your skin burned, and a small, unintentional whimper escaped your lips, loud in the tense silence between you.

the sound broke something in him. his eyes widened, panic flashing across his face, and he immediately let go, his hands pulling back as if he had been burned. “shit,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair, stepping back like he had crossed a line. "fuck, i didn’t mean to—"

you stood there, still feeling the lingering heat from where his hands had been. the space between you now felt like an unbridgeable gap.

“heeseung,” you said quietly, your voice trembling. you weren’t sure what you were about to say, but the words just wouldn’t form.

heeseung took a deep breath, his fists clenching at his sides as if trying to fight the pull between you two. for a moment, he just stared, like he was caught between wanting to move closer and knowing he shouldn’t.

then, without another word, he turned sharply on his heel and walked away, leaving you standing there, breathless, your body still tingling from the brief contact.

he didn’t even look back.

you stood frozen, feeling the heat from where his hands had been, his absence a punch to your gut. the silence that followed felt deafening, and the frustration burned hotter than before.

your skin still tingled, aching for something more, something that had been taken from you the second he pulled away. you wanted to scream, to call him back, but your voice caught in your throat.

as the door slid shut behind you, you couldn’t take it anymore. your body still tingled from the brief touch, frustration boiling over into something you couldn’t quite contain. the thought of heeseung leaving, the tension left unresolved, drove you mad. you needed to get out, clear your head.

you walked through the dimly lit halls, each step feeling heavier, the cold steel of the ship’s floor beneath your feet doing nothing to cool the fire inside you. the endless view of space through the windows felt surreal, like a vast reminder of how far away you were from normality, from any sense of control. all you wanted was a break—a moment to breathe. something, anything, to quiet the chaos inside your head.

coffee—that’s what you needed. something simple, familiar. maybe it would help you focus, keep the drug from dragging you deeper into this mess. as you made your way toward the dining area, you tried to shake off the tension, the lingering heat crawling over your skin, making you desperate for relief.

but the second the door to the common room slid open, you weren't alone.

they were all here and they turned to look at you at the same time, their heads snapping toward you in sync like they’d been waiting for you. each of them had been doing their own thing—jay lounging on the couch, scrolling through something on his tablet; jake standing by the counter, hands gripping a cup; jungwon sitting cross-legged at the table, absentmindedly playing with a datapad, his eyes unreadable; and sunghoon, leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, gaze sharp. heeseung, on the other hand, sat in the far corner, his posture relaxed, but his eyes sharp, tracking your every move. his legs were spread, one arm draped over the back of the chair, while the other rested on his thigh, fingers twitching slightly, as if itching to grab something—or someone.

the room felt suffocating, their eyes burning into you.

for a split second, none of them moved, the silence stretching out. your breath caught in your throat as their gazes lingered on you, like they knew exactly what was going through your mind—because it was going through theirs too. the drug was making sure of it.

you swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself as you stepped further into the room. the weight of their stares clung to you like a second skin, but you forced yourself to focus. coffee—just make the damn coffee, keep your head down, and act like nothing was wrong.

"morning," you muttered, your voice barely breaking the thick silence. no one replied, but you didn’t expect them to.

you crossed the room, feeling their eyes track your every move. your fingers fumbled a bit as you grabbed a cup, your hands shaking just enough for you to curse under your breath. you could feel the tension rising behind you, like the air itself was alive, pressing in from all sides. the coffee machine sputtered to life, the sound breaking through the quiet like a crack of thunder.

as the coffee dripped into the cup, you felt it—the way sunghoon’s gaze bore into you. more intense than the others. his arms were still crossed, jaw clenched so tight you could hear the faint grind of his teeth. you avoided looking his way, pretending you didn’t feel the heat of his stare burning a hole into the back of your head.

you reached for the sugar, your hand trembling just a bit, and that’s when it happened. the packet slipped from your fingers, falling onto the floor with a light thud. such a small, insignificant thing, but in the charged air of that room, it felt like a bomb going off.

"seriously?" sunghoon snapped, the sharpness in his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. you froze, your hand still hovering in midair, your pulse racing. "you can’t even hold on to a fucking sugar packet now?"

your breath hitched, and the room seemed to shrink. the tension that had been building over the last few days finally cracked open, raw and exposed. you could hear the frustration in his voice, the way the drug had been chipping away at his self-control, just like it had with everyone else.

"what’s your problem?" you shot back, your voice shaky but defensive. you weren’t about to let him get away with snapping at you like that, even though you knew—fuck, you knew—he was feeling the same unbearable pressure you were.

“dude, cut it out,” jay jolted up from his seat, glaring at sunghoon with a warning edge in his voice. “turn off your asshole mode for one goddamn moment.”

sunghoon’s fists clenched, but he didn’t fire back immediately. the room was tense, thick with frustration, and you could feel the heat radiating off them.

jay wasn’t backing down, and the silence that followed made it clear that no one was about to challenge him. his eyes locked on sunghoon, daring him to keep pushing.

“fucking bitch,” sunghoon mumbled, just loud enough for everyone to hear.

the shift in the room was immediate. tension snapped like a wire pulled too tight. jake slammed his cup onto the table, the loud clatter echoing through the silence.

“woah.” jake’s voice was low, dangerous. in seconds, he was in front of sunghoon, eyes blazing with disbelief and fury. he had sunghoon cornered against the wall, his grip on sunghoon's shoulder hard enough to make it clear—this wasn’t just a conversation. “what the fuck did you just say?”

sunghoon’s eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. he wasn’t backing down, even though his breath came in heavy, uneven bursts. but he didn’t speak, refusing to give jake the satisfaction.

“say it again,” jake’s voice dropped colder, his grip tightening. “go ahead, say it again. i fucking dare you.”

jay and jungwon exchanged glances before stepping forward, their expressions unreadable but ready to intervene.

“jake, man, chill,” jay said, his tone calm but firm, cutting through the charged air. “this isn’t how we handle this.”

sunghoon, not one to let things go, shot a glare at jay. “oh, so now you decide to talk, huh? you’ve been real fucking quiet, jay.”

his words hung heavy in the air, a sad attempt to shift the blame, deflect attention from the fact that he had crossed the line. he was scrambling, and it was obvious to everyone.

jay’s gaze turned steely as he stepped further into the circle of tension. “oh, i’ve got plenty to say,” he said, voice sharp. “been sitting back, watching you all fall apart like amateurs.” his gaze swept the room, finally locking onto you.

“me? i’m making sure i don’t lose my shit and do something reckless—like calling her a bitch. that's low, man.”

the atmosphere grew thick, everyone holding their breath. jay’s words hit hard, the room now electric with barely-contained tension.

“trust me,” jay continued, his voice dipping into something darker, “you’d have to be a fucking idiot not to know what’s at stake here.”

jake’s jaw clenched, his fists balled at his sides. “and you think you’re handling this better?” he growled, clearly not liking the way your face softened while listening to jay.

before jay could respond, jungwon stepped in, his hand gently pulling jake back. “he is,” jungwon said quietly. “you have to admit it.”

jay’s smirk faded as he met your gaze. “i’m backing the fuck off because if i don’t, i’m gonna do something we can’t undo. with these drugs? any sane person would’ve put a baby in her by now if they got too close.”

the silence that followed was deafening. jay had ripped open the truth everyone had been avoiding. the tension, the desire, the drugs—everything had been building to this, and now, it was all laid bare.

you swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in. every lingering look, every accidental brush of hands—it had all felt dangerous. but hearing jay say it out loud made it undeniable.

jungwon broke the silence, his usually calm exterior now showing cracks. “he’s not wrong,” he muttered, his voice strained, like he was barely holding himself together. “this shit is dangerous. for all of us.”

sunghoon let out a bitter laugh, more frustration than humor. “so what, you’re just gonna back off and leave her to the rest of us?” his eyes flicked to you, sharp and possessive, challenging anyone to take his place.

jay didn’t miss a beat. “i’m stepping back because none of us are thinking straight. and if you were smart, you’d do the same. because right now? all you’re doing is letting the drugs push you toward something you’ll fucking regret.”

sunghoon’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides, but he didn’t say anything. the anger radiated off him in waves, but he held his tongue.

“just drop it, you're stressing her out.” heeseung’s voice boomed finally taking the chance to intervene, his eyes locking onto you for a brief moment before returning to sunghoon.

sunghoon’s lips pressed into a thin line, but the fire in his eyes hadn’t dimmed. “fine,” he muttered, storming out of the room.

as the door slid shut behind him, you let out a shaky breath, feeling the tension seep out of your body. your heart was still racing, the intensity of the confrontation leaving you rattled.

you couldn’t deny it— it was a dangerous mix, and the line between control and chaos had never been thinner.

heeseung's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. instead, he sighed, frustration heavy in his voice.

“let’s just… call it a night.” he ran a hand through his hair, the others silently agreeing, even though sleep seemed impossible.

you turned and walked out without another word, your footsteps echoing down the cold, metal corridor. the dull throb behind your eyes pulsed in time with the tension still hanging in the air. everything felt too tight, too close. the once-familiar hallways now felt suffocating, closing in on you with every step.

when you reached your quarters, the temptation to lock yourself away was overwhelming. all you wanted was space—any kind of break from the constant pressure, from them.

you slid down against the door, letting the cool surface steady you. closing your eyes, you tried to will the headache away, but it stayed, just like everything else.

you didn’t think it could get any worse, but it did.

the ship’s hum, once soothing, now grated on your nerves like nails on a chalkboard. the dim lights barely pierced the darkness, casting jagged shadows that made the room feel more like a cage than a sanctuary.

now that you thought about it, the hours blurred together, each one more unbearable than the last. frustration grew with every second. each morning was a repeat of the last—everyone keeping their distance, their eyes lingering too long on you, simmering with tension that never seemed to break. the fight that happened only made things worse. waiting it out wasn’t helping—it was a ticking time bomb.

hq, oblivious to the storm brewing inside the ship, continued with their routine updates, spewing rehearsed bullshit. they couldn’t see how the crew was falling apart—the heated glances, the touches that felt like fire, the way everyone was one misstep from tearing each other apart. but it couldn't last too much longer, right?

jungwon was doing his best to keep it together, but even his usual calm was cracking. his eyes darkened every time they flicked toward you, his jaw clenched tighter with every passing interaction. he was feeling it just as much as the rest—just better at hiding it. for now.

jake? he was a fucking mess. he hardly spoke, keeping to himself, but the tension around him was like a live wire. he was always there, always watching, his gaze burning into you from across the room. he wanted you—needed you—and the drugs were turning that need into something nearly uncontrollable.

subtlety? sunghoon was done with that. every conversation felt like a battle. his sharp, biting words barely hid the hunger in his eyes. he wasn’t playing games anymore. the tension between you two was a powder keg waiting to explode. his irritation was impossible to miss when jungwon or jake stepped in—his possessiveness simmered just beneath the surface, ready to boil over.

heeseung kept his distance, but his watchful gaze never left you. he was calculating, waiting for the right moment. more than once, you caught him staring, his expression unreadable, but the intensity in his eyes spoke volumes. he was just as deep in this mess—he was just better at keeping his desires under control.

and jay? fuck. he claimed he was "backing off," but that was bullshit. he might’ve kept his physical distance, but his presence was suffocating. his eyes always found yours, and for just a split second, you saw the raw hunger before he hid it. he wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all you.

the air on the ship was suffocating. every meal, every briefing was thick with tension. conversations were clipped, bodies stiff, movements calculated to avoid any accidental contact. but their eyes lingered, their restraint slipping. everyone was fucking cracking.

then there were the drugs. goddamn the drugs. coursing through your veins, amplifying everything until you couldn’t think straight. your senses were overloaded—their scent, the heat from their bodies when they got too close, the way a glance sent shivers down your spine. it was too much. everything was too fucking much.

you were in the last 24 hours, the countdown to what felt like an eternity of agonizing, drug-fueled fever dream that had turned the ship into a pressure cooker.

you woke up, your body ablaze, every inch of your skin tingling with raw, desperate need. it was leaving you breathless and trembling. your hand slid over your heated skin, but it wasn’t enough.

all you could think about was them—each one of them—and the way their hunger for you was growing, spiraling out of control.

your hand moved between your thighs, a soft moan escaping your lips as you tried to ease the ache gnawing at you from the inside. but it wasn’t enough. nothing was enough.

you needed them—all of them. their hands, their mouths, their bodies. you imagined their touch, the heat of their breath against your skin, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

the ship was silent, but you knew you weren’t the only one awake, fighting the same losing battle. you could hear it—the quiet creaks of the bunks, the muffled sounds of frustration, the ragged breathing as they struggled to hold on to the last remnants of control.

you stumbled into the dining area, your body buzzing with pent-up tension, the dull throb of desire pulling at your every nerve. even the brush of your arm against the cold metal wall sent a jolt through you, making you bite your lip against the overwhelming ache deep in your core.

this was hell.

"good morning," you managed, your voice shaking, betraying the sleepless night that had left you on edge.

sunghoon, standing by the counter, clutched his coffee mug with trembling hands, the usual calm on his face shattered, replaced by raw frustration. his knuckles were white, gripping the porcelain as if it was the only thing anchoring him. “morning,” he grunted, his voice rough, thick with need. “this shit’s worse than we fucking expected.”

you slid into a chair, avoiding their eyes, but the tension in the room was impossible to ignore. you were the epicenter of this storm, and pretending otherwise was pointless. little did you know this would be the last relatively calm moment before everything unraveled.

jake stormed into the room, his easygoing demeanor nowhere to be found. frustration was etched into every line of his face, his movements aggressive as his eyes locked on you with a predatory gleam. he slammed a stack of papers onto the table, the sound echoing harshly in the confined space.

“how much longer are we supposed to deal with this?” he snapped, voice raw and barely restrained. “it’s driving me fucking insane.”

“tell me something i don’t know, jake,” you shot back, your own patience frayed. the words came out sharper than intended, but you were on edge. the drug was messing with your mind, and their relentless focus on you wasn’t helping.

jake’s eyes flared as he stepped closer, fists clenched. “watch your tone,” he warned, his voice low, simmering with frustration.

you leaned back in your chair, a smirk tugging at your lips. “my tone?” you shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm. “you’re the one losing it, jake. if you can’t handle a little attitude, maybe you’re in the wrong place.”

before jake could respond, jay stormed into the room, his usual calm shattered. desperation was clear in his eyes as he approached, tension radiating from him with every step.

“we need to call hq now,” he growled, his gaze sharp. “i’ve jerked off eleven times, and i’m still hard as fuck. this shit’s unbearable.”

jungwon entered next, his fists clenched, jaw set tight enough to make his teeth grind. the room grew even more suffocating with his presence.

“i can’t even get off,” he muttered darkly, frustration heavy in his voice. “is fucking you the only solution-”

you rolled your eyes, pushing your chair back. “oh, please.”

jungwon’s eyes darkened, his irritation barely contained. “cut me off again, and i’ll make sure your mouth’s too busy to even breathe,” he threatened, his voice cold.

“it’s affecting all of us,” jake growled, stepping closer, his frustration simmering. “and it’s your fault. everything about you—your scent, your presence—I’m about to fucking lose it.” his voice trembled with barely restrained need.

the tension was unbearable, pressing in from all sides. sunghoon slammed his clipboard onto the table, the sharp sound breaking the thick silence.

“you don’t get it,” he snarled, his voice a low growl. “every breath, every second near you—it’s driving me insane. all I want is to bury my dick in you, over and over.”

jake moved closer, his breath hot against your neck. “you think you’re keeping it together?” he whispered, voice thick with desperation. “i’m losing my mind. just being near you is fucking torture. i’m this close to throwing you on this table and fucking you until you can’t think.”

his words sent a shiver down your spine, fear and excitement tangling together as you stepped back—right into jay’s chest. his hands gripped your shoulders, steadying you but trapping you in place.

“back off, jake,” jay snarled, his grip tightening, eyes burning with possessiveness.

“shut the fuck up,” jake spat, shoving jay hard enough to make him stumble. the air crackled with tension as they squared off, ready to fight or fuck.

jungwon leaned against the wall, a smirk playing on his lips. “enjoying this, y/n?” he taunted, his voice laced with sadistic pleasure. “watching us lose control, tearing each other apart over you? must be fun, knowing you can take your pick whenever you want.”

you gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white as you fought to keep control over the storm raging inside you. "i didn’t ask for this fucking chaos," you spat, glaring at jungwon, your voice trembling with barely contained frustration.

sunghoon moved closer, his presence suffocating, eyes burning with a mix of fury and lust. his breath was hot against your skin as he growled through clenched teeth, “i fucking swear, y/n. you’re going to beg me to stop,” his voice low and threatening, “and then beg me not to.”

a violent shiver ran down your spine, your body reacting to the intensity of his words, the heat between your legs growing unbearable.

jake groaned, leaning in even closer, his voice shaking with desperation. "just one touch, please. you don’t understand how bad this is. i’m aching all over, and looking at you is fucking killing me." his words hung in the air, his need palpable, making your pulse race.

just the sound of their voices had you soaked, arousal dripping down your thighs as you sat down, the sticky mess squishing uncomfortably against the cold steel beneath you.

your legs trembled as you squeezed them together, desperate for any relief from the ache building inside you.

"shut up," you whispered, barely audible, but they heard. the raw need in your voice made everyone freeze for a moment, their breathing heavy. "just fucking shut up."

the simple act of rubbing your legs together for friction sent a wave of sensation through you, and they noticed. the low groans they let out were enough to make your heart skip a beat.

heeseung, who had been watching from the sidelines, finally stepped forward. his eyes dark with desire, he towered over you, his voice dangerously low.

"can’t believe getting talked down on made you wet," he murmured, leaning down until his lips brushed your ear, sending a shockwave of heat through your body. "it’s crazy how after all this, you still don’t get how far we’re willing to go. you have no fucking idea, y/n."

his words made you shudder, your breath catching as the throbbing between your legs intensified. your thighs clenched tighter, but it only worsened the ache, the wetness pooling between your legs making it impossible to think straight.

everything was spiraling out of control. every fiber of your being screamed for release, for something—anything—to break this unbearable tension.

“we can’t keep this going,” you breathed out, your voice barely steady, chest heaving as you fought to regain control over yourself. the weight of their eyes on you felt overwhelming, each of them watching, waiting, ready to snap.

jay, pacing restlessly, let out a low, dangerous chuckle. “oh, but we can,” he muttered darkly, his gaze locked on you like a predator closing in. “this isn’t about control anymore, y/n. we’re past that. pick someone. now. before this blows up in ways you won’t like.” his voice was thick with impatience, his words vibrating with raw, untamed desire. well, it appeared that the fight yesterday and the conversation about backing off went right out the fucking window. whatever thin thread of self-control they had clung to had snapped, leaving the room simmering with tension.

there was no more pretending, no more playing along with the idea that this was just a temporary phase to ride out.

"fuck this," sunghoon growled, patience shattered as he yanked your chair toward him, his frame looming over you, heat radiating off his body. his eyes burned with frustration, and hunger.

“you think you can keep teasing us?” his voice dripped with venom. “sitting there, soaked, trembling—like we wouldn’t fucking notice?” his tone dropped, dangerous and possessive. “shit, you look like you’re about to piss yourself.”

the second his hands gripped your thighs, your body jolted, heat flooding through you, your moan spilling out louder than you intended. sunghoon’s grip tightened as he pushed your legs apart, revealing the soaked mess of your uniform.

cold air brushed against your skin, and you shuddered, but worse than that was the room’s collective reaction—their eyes locking onto the wetness between your legs.

“fuck,” sunghoon muttered under his breath, fingers digging into your skin as he stared down, primal need flashing across his face. his body went taut, every muscle coiled with tension.

the others reacted just as violently. jake slammed his fist into the table with a loud crash. jay knocked a chair over, sending it clattering to the floor. heeseung gripped the counter, knuckles white, his jaw clenched as if he were on the verge of snapping.

“look at what you’ve fucking done,” jay muttered, pacing, his voice low and dangerous. “you’re driving us insane.”

the air buzzed with electricity. sunghoon’s hands didn’t leave your body, his grip firm, possessive. he leaned closer, eyes flicking between your flushed face and your legs spread before him.

“this isn’t going to end how you think,” he whispered darkly. "you’re not walking away from this, not when you’re this desperate."

sunghoon dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands moving with reckless desperation, tearing at your soaked pants. the fabric ripped easily, leaving you exposed, vulnerable. the cold air on your skin only amplified the heat coursing through your body, the throbbing ache between your legs unbearable.

for a second, all you could hear were your own ragged breaths and sunghoon’s, both of you caught in the intensity of the moment. his eyes were fixed on the wetness between your thighs, his tongue darting out as he stared at your pathetic excuse of panties, barely holding together.

but then, chaos.

jake lunged forward, grabbing sunghoon by the collar and yanking him away with a feral snarl. "dude, stop!" jake’s voice was raw, frustration boiling over as he shoved sunghoon back, his face twisted with anger and jealousy.

heeseung followed, stepping in, eyes blazing as he pushed sunghoon further. “are you fucking insane?” he growled, fists clenched, the restraint in his voice hanging by a thread.

sunghoon staggered back, his eyes wide and wild, trying to process everything. "make up your damn minds!" he snapped, voice shaky.

jay, pacing furiously, kicked a chair, sending it skidding across the room with a loud crash. "you’re not getting first fucking dibs, sunghoon!" he spat, barely holding his anger in check.

sunghoon, trembling and panting, made another move toward you, his hand reaching out, but jake grabbed him, his grip tight. "back off, man," jake growled, his voice low, eyes hard.

you shook, heart pounding as you watched them unravel. their raw frustration, the hunger in their eyes—it was overwhelming. your body quivered, every nerve on fire, the heat of their desire pressing down on you.

sunghoon’s eyes met yours again, wild with need. he wasn’t giving up.

you glanced down at yourself—disheveled, thighs still slick, body a mess. you wanted this, god, you wanted it so badly it hurt. the craving burned through you, desperate for their touch, for their bodies against yours.

but then the thought of pregnancy cut through the haze—being filled by all of them. that was the only thing stopping you from fully surrendering.

on shaky legs, you stood, gripping the table for support. the room was heavy with silence, the tension unbearable. their eyes were locked on you, devouring every inch, their frustration and need a mirror to your own.

you were barely holding it together, torn clothes clinging to your sweat-soaked body, but you couldn’t let them see you break.

the quiet stretched, thick and suffocating, every second dragging out as the weight of what just happened hung between you all. your breath hitched, chest tight, trying to stay calm.

then jungwon spoke, breaking through the suffocating tension.

"fuck, this isn’t working anymore," he said, voice low, strained. his eyes lingered on you briefly before shifting to the others. "i didn’t think i’d say this… but follow me."

the atmosphere shifted instantly. confusion flickered across their faces as they glanced between each other. your heart raced, unsure what jungwon meant—unsure what was about to happen.

"where?" jake asked, his voice sharp.

jungwon’s jaw clenched, frustration evident. “just follow me,” he repeated, more firmly this time, his calm starting to crack.

jay stepped forward, glaring at him. "where the hell are you taking us?"

"the greenhouse," jungwon answered, his tone tight, barely keeping his composure.

“the greenhouse?” jake echoed, his disbelief momentarily cutting through the tension. “what the fuck are we gonna do in the greenhouse?”

"just... trust me," jungwon snapped, his eyes locking onto each of them in turn. you could see how hard he was fighting to hold it together. "we can’t stay here. it’s only gonna get worse."

the words hung in the air, the tension thickening. for a moment, no one moved, uncertain. the greenhouse was isolated, quiet, but why take everyone there now?

reluctantly, they exchanged looks. the tension was unbearable; staying here was a risk. one by one, they followed jungwon out of the common room, frustration simmering beneath the surface, but trusting his judgment enough to go along.

jungwon glanced at you, his voice softer now. "come on." something flickered in his eyes—something unreadable.

your heart pounded, but you nodded, taking a shaky breath as you followed, unsure if leaving would ease the tension—or make it worse.

as you all walked, the silence stretched out between you like a taut wire. no one spoke. the only sound was the soft echo of footsteps through the narrow corridors. they kept their distance, eyes focused ahead, but you could feel the weight of their gazes trailing after you, their restraint barely holding.

your legs trembled with every step, the cool air brushing against your exposed skin only sharpened the sensations, your torn uniform clinging to your damp body.

you were still soaked, your thighs slick and uncomfortable, the heat between your legs impossible to ignore.

would the greenhouse ease the tension? or was this just delaying the inevitable?

as you stepped inside, the usual peace of the greenhouse was lost on you. the soft glow of the lights and the lush plants that surrounded you faded into the background.

all you could focus on was the pulse between your legs, the tension hanging thick in the air between you and the others. each of them was fighting their own battle, their barely-controlled desire palpable.

you all spread out, keeping a foot of distance between one another, but it felt pointless.

no one spoke. jungwon moved to the far end, his back turned to the group, hands fumbling through the drawers, the soft clink of metal breaking the silence.

you watched him, trying desperately to focus on anything but the ache inside you. every second that passed felt like an eternity.

his fingers brushed over something soft—a silky texture—and he froze. you saw his posture stiffen, his jaw clench, and you didn’t need to see what he was holding to know it was something dangerous.

it was a baby pink silk restraint. his hand lingered on it for a moment, his breath catching before he muttered a curse under his breath.

god, it would look so good on you, he thought, frustration flickering across his face as he bit back whatever dark thought had formed. but not yet. his fingers slid past the restraints with a clenched jaw, reaching for something else.

he grasped a vacuum-sealed pack of leaves, pulling them out carefully. your breath hitched, mind racing with questions, but you stayed silent. then, he grabbed a small glass test tube, snapped the ends off, leaving tiny holes on both sides. what the hell was he doing? there was a clinical precision to his movements, but the tension in his body told you he was just as affected as everyone else.

“this should help,” he muttered, mostly to himself. his voice was tight, strained. though he wasn’t looking at you, his clenched jaw and white-knuckled grip on the glass were telltale signs he was barely holding it together.

his words hung in the air, and something about them felt wrong. the room froze, confusion settling over everyone as they glanced between him and the odd supplies he was handling.

“fucking weed?” jake’s voice sliced through the tension, disbelief and frustration spilling out. his glare locked onto jungwon. “you had weed this whole fucking time?”

the already thick atmosphere tightened further. all eyes turned to jungwon, their shock mirrored in expressions of disbelief.

“you’ve been sitting on this while we’ve been going insane?” heeseung scoffed, his restraint unraveling as anger simmered in his voice. “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“what the hell, jungwon?” jay muttered, pacing furiously, running a hand through his hair. “you had something that could’ve helped while we’ve been losing our goddamn minds?”

jungwon, still focused on the leaves, barely glanced up. “you think i was sitting on this for fun?” his tone was tight, laced with frustration.

“this isn’t some regular plant. it’s from an alien planet. i had to be sure it wouldn’t mess with whatever experimental crap they pumped us full of.”

sunghoon, who had been unsettlingly silent until now, stepped forward, his eyes burning with fury as he glared down at jungwon. "so you waited until we’re this close to tearing each other apart to bring this up?" his voice was low, dangerous, barely restrained.

“it’s not that simple,” jungwon snapped, holding up the plant like it was a fragile artifact. “this thing could either help or completely screw us if it reacts badly.”

“you could’ve fixed this sooner,” jake growled, his fists clenched at his sides, stepping closer, frustration boiling over. “what the hell were you waiting for? an invitation?”

jungwon didn’t flinch. his eyes were sharp, jaw tight as he stood his ground. “you want to keep losing your shit?” his voice cut through the tension, hard and challenging.

he scanned the room, meeting each glare with a look that dared them to push further. the silence stretched between them, thick with unsaid threats. no one spoke, but the air crackled with tension.

the anger that had been fueling them all seemed to hit a wall, the realization settling in that despite their frustrations, they had no choice but to trust jungwon. the weight of it hung heavy in the air, no one willing to admit it out loud, but the decision had already been made.

“fine,” jay muttered darkly, glaring at jungwon. “but if this doesn’t work, you are the first one we’re coming after.”

the room was still buzzing with tension, but it seemed like, for now, they were willing to let jungwon do his thing.

you let out a small sigh, rubbing a hand over your face. “i’d kill for some indica right now,” you muttered under your breath, not realizing it until the words were already out.

there was a pause before a chorus of chuckles broke the silence. jake raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips as the tension finally eased, just a little. even jay, still pacing, let out a low, reluctant laugh, shaking his head.

“never figured you for a stoner, y/n,” heeseung chimed in from his spot, leaning back with a hint of amusement in his voice. his eyes flicked to you, playful, though the tension between you wasn’t entirely gone.

"guess there’s still a lot we don’t know about her," jungwon muttered, a smirk tugging at his lips as he glanced over at you, the dark intensity in his eyes softening into something more amused.

your comment had loosened the grip of tension that had everyone on edge, even if only for a moment. everyone seemed to breathe a little easier, their anger simmering into something manageable.

“indica, huh?” sunghoon finally spoke up, shaking his head with a slight smirk. “figured you’d be more of a sativa type, to be honest.”

“nah,” you replied with a half-hearted shrug, feeling more at ease as the mood shifted. “i like to be relaxed, not bouncing off the walls.”

jake snorted, running a hand through his hair. “well, let’s hope jungwon’s got the good stuff, or we’re all fucked.”

jungwon rolled his eyes, his hands still working quickly on the mixture, though you caught a flicker of a smile at the corner of his lips. “if this works, you’ll all be thanking me soon enough.”

heeseung leaned forward, his eyes sharp as they locked on jungwon. “so what, you haven’t tried it yourself?”

jungwon didn’t look up from his task, fingers deftly moving, but the brief pause before he answered brought the tension creeping back into the room. “no, not exactly.”

jake’s eyebrow shot up. “not exactly? the hell does that mean?”

jungwon sighed, the annoyance clear in his voice. “i’ve done the research. i know the compounds, and it’s designed to counteract the enhancement drug they’ve been giving us. i just haven’t had a reason to use it yet.”

“so we’re the fucking guinea pigs now?” jay scoffed, his frustration bubbling back to the surface.

jungwon huffed, his voice edged with irritation. “i haven’t smoked a day in my life, alright? but i’m smart enough to know it’s got the compounds to calm us down.”

the room fell silent for a beat before jake let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. “so you’ve never smoked, and now we’re trusting you to dose us with some alien space weed? you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

sunghoon, arms crossed, still fuming, shot jungwon a glare. “so, what? we’re supposed to just hope you don’t screw this up?” his voice was sharp, dripping with irritation. “you really think we’re gonna go along with this when you don’t even know if it’s gonna work?”

jungwon’s jaw clenched, eyes flicking between them, clearly over their shit. “do any of you have a goddamn degree?” he snapped, not even looking up as his hands worked swiftly.

“because last time i checked, i’m the one with a background in biochemistry. so unless you’re secretly holding out on some phd in alien botany, shut the hell up and let me do my job.”

sunghoon's glare didn’t waver, but the sharp edge of his frustration dulled for a moment as jungwon's words hit. there was a flicker of acknowledgment in the silence that followed.

jake, however, wasn’t ready to let it go so easily. “yeah, well, last time i checked, your degree didn’t come with a guarantee this alien weed won’t mess us up even more,” he quipped, arms crossed, but there was a slight grin tugging at his lips.

jungwon rolled his eyes, finally looking up, clearly done with their bullshit. “you want to keep arguing, or do you want to get out of this without tearing each other to pieces?” he shot back, his patience visibly thinning. “because i’d love to stand here and debate this, but we don’t exactly have time for a fucking TED talk.”

heeseung, who had been watching from the sidelines, let out a low chuckle.

“fine, doc. we’ll shut up and let you save the day with your alien potions. but if this goes sideways…”

jungwon cut him off, deadpan. “yeah, yeah. you’ll all come for my ass. i’ve heard it. now, can we get on with it?”

sunghoon’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing on jungwon, but he didn’t push any further, taking a step back with a begrudging sigh. “just don’t screw this up.”

jungwon stayed focused on his task, ignoring their complaints. "if we get through this without killing each other, it’ll be a miracle," he muttered, his hands working swiftly over the alien plant like it was routine.

jake snorted, watching jungwon carefully, though some of the tension had eased. "if we do, you’re never living this down."

jungwon shot him a quick glare. "good thing i don’t give a shit about your approval, huh?"

the room remained thick with tension as jungwon sealed the mixture and set it aside. everyone was on edge, eyes shifting between you and jungwon, frustrations bubbling just beneath the surface.

sunghoon’s arms tightened across his chest, his jaw clenched. "so what now, jungwon? gonna roll it up and hope it works?"

jungwon shot him a sharp look, pulling out a small device. "no rolling. we’re vaporizing it. faster, cleaner. you’ll feel it in minutes." his voice was steady, but the tightness in his posture showed he was feeling the strain, just like the rest of you.

heeseung chuckled under his breath, his foot tapping against the floor. "minutes, huh? guess we won’t have to wait long to find out if it works."

jay, who had been pacing, paused, his eyes narrowing as he turned toward you. "what about you, y/n?" he asked, his tone pointed. "you trust jungwon with this? or are you as skeptical as the rest of us?"

you swallowed, your voice quieter than you intended. "i don’t know," you admitted, glancing at jungwon. "but we don’t have any other options."

sunghoon grunted from his spot against the wall, his gaze sweeping over you. "yeah, well, this better work. because if it doesn’t, i don’t know how much longer i can keep my hands off you." his voice was low, frustration and desire mixing into a dangerous edge.

jake, still glaring at jungwon, crossed his arms. "let’s just get this over with."

jungwon nodded, his movements precise as he set up the vaporizer. the tension thickened in the room, each second stretching as everyone waited for the first hit, anticipation hanging in the air like a storm about to break.

finally, jungwon took the first hit, exhaling slowly as the vapor filled the room. “one at a time,” he said, passing it to jake. “just try not to lose control yet, alright?”

jake inhaled deeply, his eyes flicking toward you, though his expression remained hard. the vapor passed through the group, each taking their turn as the scent thickened in the air.

when it reached you, you hesitated before lifting the device to your lips. the warm vapor filled your lungs, and for a moment, nothing changed.

then, you felt it—a subtle shift.

the tension in your body eased slightly, the tightness in your chest loosening. the ache in your core dulled just enough for you to breathe easier. you exhaled, the weight still there, but lighter.

"anyone feel anything yet?" jungwon asked, scanning the group, his own face showing a bit of relief.

jay leaned back, exhaling. "not gonna lie, jungwon. if this works, i’ll take back all the shit i said."

sunghoon, his eyes still locked on you, let out a low breath. "it’s working… but this is just the beginning, isn’t it?"

heeseung, now more relaxed, nodded slowly, the relentless tapping of his foot finally stopping. "yeah… it’s taking the edge off, but it’s not gonna keep us from snapping completely."

jungwon’s jaw tightened, but he gave a small nod. "it’ll help us hold on. that’s all we need for now."

as the minutes passed, the atmosphere in the room began to shift. the sharpness of desperation started to fade, replaced by a warmth that slowly spread through your body, relaxing muscles that had been tight for what felt like hours. the effect settled in like a haze, making everything feel slower, softer.

sunghoon, who had been rigid with frustration, let out a low chuckle, leaning his head back against the wall. "shit... this actually feels kinda good," he muttered, a hint of surprise in his voice.

jake, still leaning against the table, blinked a few times, his frown fading into something more relaxed. "yeah..." he murmured, a lazy grin forming on his face as he glanced around. "this is... better."

heeseung, who had been sitting tensely moments before, now leaned back in his chair, a slow, amused smile spreading across his face. "jungwon, man... you actually did something here," he said, his voice lighter, a bit dazed. the others were clearly feeling the high too.

jay, who had been pacing earlier, was now casually leaning against the wall, his usual dark intensity replaced by a half-smirk. "yeah, i’ll admit... didn’t expect this. i feel... fucking mellow." he laughed, running a hand through his hair as if he was still trying to process it.

jungwon, the most tightly wound of them all, finally looked up from his seat, his expression softening with a mix of relief and satisfaction. "it’s working," he said, his voice low and smooth, clearly feeling the effects himself. even his usual controlled posture had relaxed, his eyes slightly glassy.

you felt it too—the pressure that had been suffocating you for days seemed to melt away, replaced by a warm, buzzing sensation under your skin. the tension that had gripped your body so tightly was gone, and you were undeniably high. the lightness in your limbs was intoxicating.

sunghoon chuckled again, his gaze shifting to you. "you look like you’re finally not about to explode," he teased, his voice softer, the sharp edge gone. "how’s it feel, y/n?"

you couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh, the tightness in your chest loosening. "better," you admitted, leaning back, feeling their eyes on you, but without the suffocating intensity from before. "a lot better."

jake grinned lazily, his shoulders slumping as he settled into a more comfortable stance. "so this is what it feels like to not be two seconds away from losing it," he muttered, more to himself than anyone.

heeseung stretched out in his chair, his foot tapping finally still. "yeah, i could get used to this," he drawled, a slow grin spreading across his face. for the first time in days, he wasn’t on the verge of snapping.

jungwon, who’d been quiet, looked over at you, his eyes softer, the tension gone from his voice. "told you it would help," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

jay chuckled, shaking his head. "fuck, jungwon, you really had us doubting you. might be the best idea you’ve had."

sunghoon, still watching you, smirked lazily, his gaze no longer sharp but relaxed. "we should’ve gotten high sooner. would’ve saved a lot of trouble."

the room felt different—lighter. the tension that had suffocated everyone for days was replaced by a calm that had been missing. it wasn’t completely gone, but the edge had softened, smoothed out by the haze now filling the air. for the first time in what felt like forever, you could breathe.

"shit, we’ve got weed in space," jake muttered, laughing under his breath, his words slurred slightly. "if this ain’t the best thing ever... how the hell are we supposed to work now?" he leaned back against the table, a lazy grin on his face. "i don’t even want to touch a holo-pad."

jay chuckled again, his body loose as he glanced around. "yeah, fuck the mission for a second."

you caught jay’s eyes lingering on you, his gaze soft but still intense. he smirked, pushing off the wall, taking a slow step toward you, his eyes locked on yours. "shit, y/n... you look real pretty right now," he murmured, his voice dropping into a low rumble, the high relaxing him completely.

heeseung chuckled, nodding in agreement. "he’s not wrong... the weed’s hitting, and damn, you’re glowing." his voice was smoother now, the usual restraint gone, replaced with easy confidence.

sunghoon leaned in slightly, a slow grin spreading across his face. "yeah, this is... nice," he muttered, his gaze heavy with the haze but carrying a new kind of appreciation.

jungwon, clearly struggling to keep it together, was out of his element. his lips kept twitching, fighting off a laugh as his eyes darted around the room, wide and a little glassy, trying to maintain his usual calm demeanor.

you watched him press his lips together, body stiff as he fought the high. but when jake caught sight of him, it was over.

"holy shit—jungwon’s gone," jake laughed, loud and carefree. "look at him! man’s trying so hard not to fucking giggle, it’s killing him."

jay doubled over, slapping the wall as he tried to stay upright. "oh my god, he’s losing it," he gasped between laughs, pointing at jungwon, whose face had turned pink.

sunghoon shook his head, chuckling low. "dude, just let it out," he teased, enjoying watching jungwon squirm.

jungwon couldn’t hold back anymore. with a breathless laugh, he broke, his shoulders shaking as he buried his face in his hands. "fuck," he muttered, still laughing. "this is ridiculous."

everyone in the room joined in, the tension that had been building for days finally shattering. heeseung leaned back, laughing with the rest as jungwon gave in to the high.

"beginner’s luck, huh?" heeseung grinned, wiping a tear from his eye. "never thought i’d see you like this, jungwon."

jungwon, still giggling, waved them off. "shut up," he managed, his voice cracking with amusement. "this wasn’t supposed to go like this."

laughter filled the greenhouse, the heavy atmosphere replaced by a much-needed sense of relief. it was messy, chaotic, but for the first time in what felt like forever, it didn’t feel like everything was falling apart.

"so... i gotta ask," you said, breaking through the haze of laughter, your tone teasing. their attention snapped back to you, giggles fading as you continued.

"i get you guys hella horny, don’t i?" you grinned, the boldness of your words catching them off guard, a smirk spreading across your face. "when did it start?"

the room fell silent for a split second as your bold question lingered in the air, their eyes widening, expressions shifting from shock to amusement. the haze of the high made the moment even more surreal, everyone too relaxed to hide their reactions.

heeseung, the first to break the silence, let out a low laugh, stretching lazily in his chair. “damn, y/n, you really don't hold back with the questions,” he shot you a smirk, his tone dripping with that lazy confidence that came from the weed.

“but, i'mnot gonna lie, it’s been a while. you walking around like that didn’t make it easy either.”

jay, still leaning against the wall, raised an eyebrow at you, his lips curling into a mischievous grin. “yeah, we’ve been dealing with this shit for a minute,” he admitted, his voice smooth and casual, but there was no mistaking the way his eyes raked over you. “you’re not exactly easy to ignore.”

sunghoon, always the one to speak his mind, leaned forward, his smirk matching jay’s. “she’s asking for specifics,” he teased, his voice low, playful.

“when did it start? if you really want to know... it’s been there since the beginning.” his gaze softened as he added.

jungwon, still recovering from his laughing fit, cleared his throat, his face a little pink, though he tried to play it cool.

you laughed, the sound bright and a little tipsy from the relaxed atmosphere. “oh, so that’s why all the frustration, huh?”

heeseung leaned back in his chair, the high loosening everyone up as he sighed, grinning lazily. “alright, fine, didn't think i'd ever admit this but...” he said, voice more serious but still playful.

“if i'm being completely honest, I’ve been watching you a lot longer than I’d like to admit.” he looked directly at you, his grin softening. “a bit of a... peep show, you could say.”

the room went dead quiet. your breath hitched, his confession sinking in. even the others, lost in their own buzz, snapped their attention to him in surprise.

“what?” jake muttered, wide-eyed.

heeseung shrugged, completely unbothered. “not proud of it, but yeah. i’d see you in your room, getting ready... lingered a little longer than I should have.”

you felt your face flush, heart racing as his words hit. heeseung had been watching you all this time. how?

“wait, you were spying on her?” jay’s voice held surprise, but no judgment.

heeseung nodded, no shame in his voice. “yeah, guess you could call it that. but y/n didn’t exactly make it easy.” his eyes glinted with that dark intensity again. “you were always right there, looking so damn good, almost like you wanted me to watch.”

sunghoon let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “so that’s why you’ve been extra wound up around her, huh? then avoiding her like the plague.”

heeseung chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “you have no idea.”

your stomach flipped, a swirl of shock and something darker, more thrilling, stirred inside you. “how long?” you asked quietly, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

heeseung met your gaze, his playful facade dropping for a moment. “long enough to know you’ve been driving me insane.”

"but i thought," you stammered, "wow, so from the start you've been trying to keep yourself in line. not like jake." you glanced at jake, who just smirked, shrugging.

heeseung chuckled, a deep sound that made your pulse spike. "that’s what i wanted you to think," he said, leaning back with a smug grin.

"i was careful. unlike jake—" he threw a playful glare at jake—"i didn’t let it get to me. well, not until recently."

“oh, come on,” jake muttered, clearly amused. “don’t act like you’re better than me. at least i didn’t spy on her.

jungwon, watching quietly, raised an eyebrow but stayed silent, observing.

your face burned as the puzzle pieces clicked into place. "so, all this time, you were just watching me? waiting for what?" your voice came out breathless, his confession settling heavily in the air.

heeseung’s grin widened, eyes darkening. "waiting for the right moment," he said smoothly. "waiting for you to realize none of us are as in control as you think."

"is this what people do when they’re high?" jungwon muttered, still sounding dazed, his wide eyes darting between you, heeseung, and the rest of the guys, struggling to keep up with the shift in mood.

jake snorted, rubbing his face as he tried to contain his laughter. "nah, man," he said, still chuckling, "this is what happens when we’ve been stuck in space too long, high as hell, and all our secrets start spilling out."

jay leaned against the wall, grinning. "welcome to the party, jungwon," he teased, giving him a playful nudge. "this is when shit gets real."

jungwon blinked rapidly, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe the conversation had shifted from calming down to confessions about spying and hidden desires. "i thought this was supposed to relax us, not... this," he mumbled to himself.

heeseung just laughed, clearly enjoying jungwon’s confusion. "nah, this is what happens when people get too comfortable. all the bottled-up shit comes out," he said, his gaze sliding back to you, still carrying that dark intensity. "and trust me, there’s a lot more to spill."

you smirked, leaning into the playful mood. "oh, we’re spilling secrets now? anyone else got something to confess while we’re riding this high?" your eyes gleamed with curiosity as you turned to jungwon. "how much of that stuff you got, jungwon? ’cause we could always smoke more."

jungwon stood up slowly, his posture loose, movements smooth. he looked so good right now, and you knew you weren’t hiding your thoughts well. your eyes traced the line of his shoulders, the easy way his body moved, and the heat of your gaze didn’t go unnoticed.

he caught your stare, but instead of calling you out, he just smirked, his eyes meeting yours with a knowing look that sent a shiver through you.

"you wanna know how much we’ve got?" his voice low and playful as he walked over to a small section of the greenhouse, gesturing to a tree standing tall with thick, lush leaves. "we’ve got a whole fucking tree."

the room went still for a beat before jake broke the silence with a disbelieving laugh. "you’ve been sitting on that this whole time?"

jay’s jaw dropped. "holy shit."

sunghoon ran a hand through his hair, laughing under his breath. "i thought this place was for ‘essential’ plants. guess that counts now, huh?"

jungwon shrugged, unfazed. "it’s part of my research. i made sure it’d be ready if we needed it." his gaze lingered on you a moment longer, his eyes dark, playful, and filled with quiet intensity.

you leaned back in your chair, laughing softly. "so we’ve got enough to keep this going?"

jungwon smirked, glancing back at the tree. "more than enough."

the room settled into a calm silence, everyone processing the absurdity of the situation—weed in space, a secret tree in the greenhouse, and a group of high, frustrated guys finally letting their guard down. It felt like something was about to break, but for now, it was almost... fun.

"so, what was in that vial you hid from me when i grabbed my kit?" you asked, narrowing your eyes at jungwon. the playful tone lingered, but curiosity slipped in. "i saw you stash it."

jungwon froze for a second, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. Instead of deflecting, though, his smirk grew wider, and he leaned against the wall, his gaze locking onto yours.

"smart girl," he said, his voice lower, more intimate. "no wonder i think about you more than i should." his eyes sparkled with something darker, sending a shiver down your spine.

the others groaned, rolling their eyes.

jake snorted. "finally, he flirts back. thought we were in for another lecture on compounds or some shit."

jay crossed his arms, shaking his head with a grin. "dude’s trying so hard to play it cool, but look at him—he's all grown up i'm gonna cry."

sunghoon leaned against the wall, laughing quietly. "guess even jungwon can’t resist."

jungwon shot them a glare, his smirk faltering for just a second before he composed himself, eyes flicking back to you. “don’t listen to these idiots,” he muttered, standing a little straighter. “but yeah… I might’ve kept that vial out of sight for a reason.”

you raised an eyebrow, curiosity spiking. “oh? and what’s in it?”

jungwon’s voice dropped, smooth but with a darker undertone. “did you really think i was that innocent?” he asked, tilting his head as he watched you closely. “i gave off that vibe from the start, didn’t i?”

you nodded, biting your lip, a shiver running down your spine. jungwon had always seemed so calm and composed—safe. but after that episode when he spanked you in your quarters you were already convinced he could be dangerous.

he leaned in just enough, voice low but loud enough for everyone to hear. “if we’re being honest, all i’ve been wanting to do is drug the fuck out of you and—” his lips curled into a wicked grin, “do whatever i want.”

the room froze.

every pair of eyes widened in shock, caught between disbelief and something darker.

“damn,” jake muttered, running a hand through his hair. “the fuck, jungwon?”

jay blinked, raising an eyebrow. “wow. didn’t expect that from you.”

sunghoon let out a low whistle, shaking his head, though a soft laugh escaped him. “we all knew you had some dark shit in you, but i didn’t think you’d just... say it.”

jungwon just shrugged, far too relaxed for someone who had just confessed something twisted. his eyes flicked back to you, heat radiating behind them, making your heart pound.

“so,” he said, smirking, “are we going to tell her we’ve been low-key scheming, or did you figure it out, y/n?” his voice was sharp, playful. “you’re smart—did you really buy my ‘nice guy’ act?”

sunghoon’s grin widened. “yeah, you didn’t think jungwon was that innocent, did you?”

you rolled your eyes, teasing. “i mean, the checking me out part was obvious—you guys didn’t even try to hide it. i just figured you were all perverts.” you paused, letting a smirk play on your lips.

leaning back in your chair, the tension in the air grew thicker, electric. “to be honest, though,” you added, voice light, “i liked knowing i could get you hard. it was fun.”

the room went dead silent again. shock, amusement, and lust mingled on their faces. they hadn’t expected that.

heeseung let out a low chuckle, his eyes darkening as he leaned in slightly. “well, at least you’re aware of your effect on us.”

jay raised his brows, a grin spreading as he ran a hand through his hair. “damn, y/n, didn’t think you’d just come out and say it like that.”

jake, unable to hold back his smirk, leaned forward. “so you like getting us worked up? that’s what all this teasing’s been about?”

sunghoon chuckled under his breath, though his gaze remained intense. “guess we’re getting more than we bargained for tonight.”

“yeah,” you replied confidently. “it was fun watching you squirm.”

the tension in the room was heavy now, thick with unspoken desire. you could feel the weight of their eyes on you, and it only made your skin tingle more.

"wow, this weed is definitely making it worse," you muttered, feeling the heat build inside you, the haze thickening the air around you. "sure, i don’t wanna fuck everyone’s brains out right now, but..."

your gaze drifted over them, the anticipation swirling in your stonmach. "it’s definitely getting me horny."

the atmosphere shifted, your words hanging in the air, making the tension in the room palpable. their reactions were instant—a flicker of barely-contained desire across their faces.

jake let out a low groan, leaning back against the table, eyes darkening. "you’re killing me, y/n," he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face, frustration clear. "you have no fucking idea."

jay chuckled, shaking his head. "we’re all barely holding it together, and you’re just sitting there, getting off on it?" his voice strained, fists clenched. "damn."

“gimme another hit, won,” you said, your voice dropping, teasing as you looked over at jungwon. your eyes locked, and the room seemed to still. the tension thickened, nearly unbearable.

jungwon blinked, not expecting your bold request, but his smirk quickly returned, eyes darker now. "you sure you can handle more, y/n?" his voice low, teasing but laced with warning. “we’re all on edge already.”

"yeah, i’m sure," you replied, holding his gaze. "let’s see if i can handle it."

the others watched with clear interest. jake raised an eyebrow, smirking. "shit, she’s going for more? that’s either brilliant or dangerous."

jungwon stepped closer, pulling out the vaporizer, his movements deliberate. “if you’re so eager,” he muttered, holding it out to you. your fingers brushed his as you took it, the brief contact sending a shiver through you.

you inhaled deeply, the warm haze filling your lungs, intensifying the heat and desire already coursing through you. the high hit harder this time, amplifying everything—the room felt hotter, the tension thicker.

“fuck,” you whispered, feeling the warmth spread through your body.

jungwon’s eyes never left you. "better?" he asked, voice tight like he was barely keeping it together.

you nodded, a smirk tugging at your lips. “yeah... but this,” you gestured at your ripped pants with a teasing grin, “this is uncomfortable.” your voice was thick with desire as your gaze drifted over the guys, taking in their reactions.

the room had grown unbearably hot, tension coiling tighter by the second. you sighed playfully, tilting your head. “mind if i strip a bit, boys?” you teased, not really waiting for permission, fingers already at the hem of your shirt. “love the gift, sunghoon, but it’s gotta go.”

sunghoon’s eyes widened, breath hitching as he leaned forward, gaze locked on you. “shit, y/n,” he muttered, voice trembling slightly. “you’re really doing this?”

jake groaned again, rubbing his face, clearly struggling. “fuck, she’s serious,” he muttered, voice thick with lust.

jay leaned back, eyes darker now, smirk still on his lips as he watched with a mix of hunger and amusement. “go ahead,” he drawled, voice low. “it’s your show.”

heeseung chuckled, watching as you slowly peeled off your clothes, revealing more skin. “well, this just got a hell of a lot more interesting,” he muttered, voice dripping with desire.

you felt their eyes on you, tracking every movement as you slipped out of your uniform, the cool air hitting your heated skin. the tension was almost suffocating as they watched, captivated by every inch you revealed.

“much better,” you teased, letting your clothes drop, now standing in just your shirt and underwear. their stares were heavy with unmistakable hunger.

"how many more hours we got?" you asked, voice laced with anticipation, your gaze flicking between them, all barely holding on.

heeseung glanced at the time, his eyes never leaving you. “twenty hours,” he muttered, voice rough with frustration.

jake groaned, his head dropping into his hands. “twenty more hours? we’re not gonna fucking make it.”

sunghoon’s eyes were glued to you, his breath shaky. “twenty hours... and you’re already stripping? how the fuck are we supposed to keep it together?”

jay chuckled, but his eyes were dark with desire. “shit, we barely held out this long, and now you’re making it harder—literally.”

you smirked, still buzzing from the high, their heated stares making your pulse quicken. “just wanted to make things... interesting,” you said, your voice dripping with challenge. “let’s see if you can last another twenty hours.”

"pass it," jake muttered, finally caving, knowing they needed something to take the edge off. his voice strained, tension clear as he reached for the vaporizer, his fingers brushing yours.

sunghoon groaned. "give it here,” he growled, rubbing his neck, clearly struggling for control. “if we’re stuck like this, might as well get fucked up.”

as the vaporizer made its rounds, the atmosphere shifted again. the weed wasn’t dulling their desire—it was amplifying it. their eyes lingered longer, the raw need in the air thickening.

you watched them, heart racing, body humming with anticipation. “looks like it’s gonna be a long night,” you murmured, your voice soft but full of challenge, daring them to hold on.

heeseung took a slow hit from the vaporizer, holding it in as he watched you, mischief glinting in his eyes. with a smirk, he leaned forward, voice low and teasing. “wanna shotgun?”

the room went silent, everyone’s attention snapping to you and heeseung. his suggestion hung in the air, thick with tension and curiosity.

your heart skipped a beat, the heat of his offer rushing through your veins. he was testing you, and they were all watching.

jake raised an eyebrow, leaning in, his grin widening. “shit... are we really doing this?”

sunghoon chuckled darkly, his eyes locked on you. “she’s not saying no.” jay’s smirk grew, arms crossed as he leaned back, watching.

you bit your lip, locking eyes with heeseung. “fuck it,” you said, your tone matching his. “let’s do it.”

heeseung’s smirk widened, and he moved closer, taking another slow hit from the vaporizer. without breaking eye contact, he leaned in, his face inches from yours, the heat between you nearly suffocating.

you closed the distance, taking the smoke from him as he exhaled. the proximity made your pulse race, the moment electric, charged with a new kind of tension.

as you finished inhaling, heeseung didn’t hesitate. his lips crashed against yours, his tongue sliding past your lips in a kiss that was hungry, overwhelming. a low, sensual groan escaped you, the heat of the moment making your body buzz, his mouth moving against yours with a fiery intensity.

his hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer, his body pressing into yours. but after what felt like both too long and not nearly long enough, he pulled away, his lips hovering close to yours as he caught his breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

you let out a breathless laugh, eyes half-lidded, a lazy smirk playing on your lips. "feels like i’m back in college," you teased, voice rough, dripping with satisfaction.

heeseung wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, his thumb brushing your bottom lip before pulling back. “shit, y/n,” he muttered, breathless. “you’re making this so fucking hard.”

the tension in the room spiked as the others watched, eyes glued to the aftermath of the kiss. everything had shifted—the air heavier, pulses quickening.

jake shifted in his seat, swallowing hard, a raw edge to his voice. "fuck... i’m jealous," he muttered with a grin, though it didn’t hide the need in his gaze. "you always go that hard?"

jay leaned forward, shaking his head, still clearly amused. "that was fucking hot."

sunghoon, his eyes dark and locked on you, clenched his jaw and let out a low laugh. "heeseung’s got some balls. damn."

jungwon, who had been quiet the whole time, finally spoke, his gaze still fixed on you, voice low. "that was… something," he muttered, eyes half-lidded, filled with curiosity and intrigue.

you smirked, glancing at sunghoon, voice laced with a teasing challenge. "you’re not mad, sunghoon? i mean, you’ve always had that possessive streak."

his jaw tightened, eyes narrowing as a low chuckle escaped him. there was nothing playful in it. "mad?" he repeated, his voice rough, gaze intense. "nah, y/n... not mad. but you’re definitely pushing it." his eyes flicked down to your lips, still swollen from heeseung’s kiss. "you know exactly what you’re doing."

heeseung leaned back, clearly pleased with himself, enjoying the tension. "what can i say? she’s hard to resist."

sunghoon didn’t break eye contact, his smirk turning wicked. “resisting’s not the problem, heeseung.” his voice dropped, almost a growl. “i just don’t like to share. and you—" his eyes raked over your body—“you’re making this a lot harder than it needs to be.”

jake chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “possessive doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

jay raised an eyebrow at sunghoon, smirking. “jealousy’s not a good look on you, man.”

sunghoon shot a glance at jay before focusing back on you, his voice dropping. “you enjoy getting a rise out of me, don’t you, y/n?”

your smirk grew as the heat in his voice made your skin prickle. "maybe," you murmured, tilting your head. "or maybe i like seeing how far i can push you."

sunghoon’s eyes darkened further, his voice low and dangerous. "try me one more time, and i’ll fuck you right here in front of everyone."

the room went dead silent, the intensity of his words hitting you like a wave. the boldness of his threat—or promise—made the air in the room feel heavier, the tension suffocating.

heeseung raised an eyebrow, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. "well, shit. things just got serious."

jake let out a low whistle, leaning forward. "not sure if that’s a threat or a promise."

jay, his tone laced with amusement, chimed in, "honestly, I’m not into sharing either. but the weed?" he chuckled, his eyes flicking between you and sunghoon. "it’s making me reconsider."

all eyes shifted to jay, the tension only thickening as he leaned back, crossing his arms with a growing smirk. “maybe just this once... i’d be willing to let it slide.”

heeseung chuckled darkly. "seems like we’re all reconsidering a lot right now."

jake grinned. "the weed’s making everything seem like a good idea."

sunghoon, jaw still tight, shot a glance at jay, but the playful tension between them was undeniable. "you’re lucky you’re even part of this conversation."

you felt the shift in the room, heart pounding as you caught the exchange. the energy was only growing, and none of them seemed willing to back down.

“so, jay,” you teased, eyes locking on his, “you’re saying you’d share if it came down to it?”

jay leaned forward, his eyes meeting yours, a slow smile spreading across his face. “yeah,” he said, voice low, deliberate. “but only because i think you’d be worth it.”

your breath hitched, the heat inside you building as the high took hold. “if it wasn’t for this wait,” you breathed, the words slipping out, “i’d already be knocking on your doors... though not without putting up a fight.”

their eyes darkened at your confession, the room buzzing with unspoken desire.

jungwon, trying to play it cool, took another puff from the vaporizer and immediately choked, coughing hard as the smoke hit him wrong. the sudden noise shattered the tension in the room, all eyes turning to him as he struggled for breath, his face flushing both from the smoke and embarrassment.

“shit,” he muttered between coughs, trying to compose himself, eyes watering as he glanced up at you, shaking his head. "fuck, that was... rough."

everyone burst into laughter, the momentarily serious atmosphere lightening just for a second.

"you good, won?" jake asked, grinning as he slapped jungwon’s back.

jay shook his head, still chuckling. "man, you really don’t know how to smoke, do you?"

jungwon shot them a glare, still coughing, but a sheepish smile pulled at his lips. "shut up," he grumbled, rubbing his chest as the smoke finally cleared.

you couldn’t help but laugh, the high making it all feel even more amusing. "you alright, jungwon?" you teased, watching him recover.

jungwon finally caught his breath, cheeks still flushed as he met your gaze. “yeah, yeah,” he muttered, still a bit winded. “just... wasn’t expecting it to hit that hard.”

heeseung smirked, leaning back in his chair. “looks like even the doctor’s not immune to getting messed up.”

sunghoon chuckled, shaking his head. “it’s always the quiet ones who end up the most fucked.”

the laughter faded, but the weight of their gazes didn’t. their eyes followed the rise and fall of your chest, the sheen of sweat on your skin, and the slight shift of your legs as you tried to get comfortable. it was like they were all waiting, their patience thinning by the second.

you could feel their stares burning into you, the intensity of it making your skin tingle. each glance felt heavier, more deliberate, and your pulse quickened under the heat of it.

exposed as you were, the sensation was electric, the mix of weed and desire making everything feel heightened, sharper. the room felt like it was spinning, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from them either.

heeseung, who had been the most composed, broke the silence, his voice rough and low. “fuck, y/n,” he muttered, his eyes darkening as they trailed the movement of your legs. “you look incredible like this.”

sunghoon's gaze was sharp, tracking the sheen of sweat on your skin, the rise and fall of your chest with each shallow breath. “we’re all trying to hold it together,” he growled, voice thick with restraint. “but you? you’re not even trying. it’s like you’re begging to get fucked.”

jay, lounging back with his eyes glued to you, let out a low chuckle. “yeah, why don’t you just spread those legs for me, honey? no harm in giving it a shot, right?”

jake swallowed hard, his eyes burning into you, voice strained with frustration. “this... it’s fucking torture.”

jungwon, having finally regained his composure after his earlier coughing fit, stayed quiet, but his eyes roamed over your body. despite his silence, the tension in his posture made it clear just how much he was struggling.

the silence that followed was suffocating, heavy with need. you could feel their eyes on you, feel the way their breathing deepened, slowed. they were getting hard, and none of them bothered to hide it anymore.

heeseung’s gaze darkened, his chest rising and falling faster, desire burning in his eyes. his lips parted, and you saw his hand shift in his lap, trying to find some relief without being too obvious.

sunghoon, once composed, now clenched his jaw, eyes locked on you like a predator ready to pounce. his fists tightened, muscles flexing as he struggled to keep control.

jay’s smirk faded, replaced by raw hunger. he leaned forward slightly, eyes trailing down your body. “fuck, y/n... stop looking at us like that,” he muttered, voice thick with barely restrained lust.

jake, who had been leaning back, was now sitting up, legs spread, his breathing heavier. “i’m... done hiding it,” he admitted, voice raw, frustration laced in every word.

jungwon, quieter than the rest, couldn’t tear his eyes from you. the flush spreading across his face and the way his hands flexed at his sides said everything. he was barely holding it together.

the weight of their desire pressed down on you, thick in the air. every lingering look, every breath they took, felt like a pressure building between all of you. your heart raced, heat pooling low in your belly, the tension almost unbearable.

“it’s not like we can’t do something, right?” you teased, voice low and filled with anticipation. your eyes flicked between them, watching their expressions shift as your words sank in. with a wicked smile, you let the next part slip, “just... don’t cum inside.”

heeseung groaned, deep and guttural, his grip tightening on the arms of the chair so hard his knuckles turned white. “fuck,” he muttered, breath hitching. “you really don’t know what you’re asking for, y/n.”

jay’s eyes darkened, jaw tense as hunger overtook his gaze. “you’re terrible,” he growled, voice shaking with raw need.

jake groaned, nearly doubling over as his hand dragged across his face. “shit... don’t say that,” he muttered, voice hoarse with desperation, his body visibly tense as he stared at you, gaze burning with want.

sunghoon’s fists clenched, breath coming in uneven bursts. “you really want it, don’t you,” he growled, voice low, rough, his eyes fixed on you, every move you made driving him closer to breaking.

and then there was jungwon. quiet, soft, but somehow the most intense. his voice barely above a whisper, filled with a desperation that sent a shiver down your spine. “can you show us your pussy?”

his words hung in the air, freezing everything for a second. the raw hunger in his voice shattered the last bit of restraint in the room.

heeseung’s breath hitched, shifting in his seat, eyes glued to you with frustration and need. “fuck, jungwon,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair, clearly on the edge.

jay leaned forward, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, voice rough with need. “we’re all fucking done for.”

their eyes stayed locked on you, waiting. the tension suffocated, every breath thick with anticipation. your heart raced, heat building inside you as you reached for the vaporizer. taking a slow hit, you held it in, teasing them with every second before exhaling, the smoke lingering between their stares and your slow, deliberate movements.

you leaned back, spreading your legs, slow and deliberate. the sight of you, open and ready, had them all teetering on the brink. the air felt electric, like it was going to snap at any moment.

“jungwon,” you murmured, voice low, teasing, “you’ve already got all these plants. probably made something to drug me, right? so is something to stop pregnancy really that impossible?”

your fingers toyed with the waistband of your panties before sliding them aside, revealing how wet you were. their eyes darkened instantly, locked on the slickness between your legs.

jungwon’s eyes flicked to yours, the realization hitting him hard. without a word, he stood up, his movements clumsy from the high but filled with purpose. stumbling slightly, he caught himself, already moving toward his workstation. the idea you planted was too tempting to resist.

the room went silent, all eyes on jungwon as he started pulling out plants and supplies with a renewed intensity. heeseung raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “shit, she’s really got him thinking.”

jake leaned back, crossing his arms, shaking his head. “leave it to y/n to get jungwon of all people worked up like this. he’s high as fuck, but he’s still about to whip up some shit.”

sunghoon narrowed his eyes, clearly intrigued by the sudden change. “what are you cooking up, jungwon?”

jungwon ignored them, his hands moving with precision as he mixed different plants, despite the haze clouding his mind. “if the alkaloid levels are stable… should interact well with the pseudo-estrogens from the herb…” he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowed in concentration. "can’t have the phyto-progestins canceling out the contraceptive properties..."

you watched him, your heart racing at the realization of what you’d set into motion. “jungwon, are you really—”

he shot you a look, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips, hunger burning in his eyes. “you gave me an idea, and now i can’t stop thinking about it.”

heeseung’s voice dropped, “so?”

sunghoon growled in frustration, his patience wearing thin as he took another deep drag from the vaporizer, his body rigid.

“can you fucking make it or not?” he snapped, glaring at jungwon, who was still meticulously checking his data, mumbling shit only he understands and adjusting his tools, as if the urgency in sunghoon’s voice was nothing but background noise.

jungwon, annoyingly calm, ignored the outburst, his fingers tapping away at his device, double-checking every detail. the deliberate slowness was starting to grate on sunghoon’s nerves, his agitation growing with every passing second.

“jungwon,” sunghoon growled again, louder this time, his voice sharp with irritation, “quit fucking around.”

jungwon finally looked up, raising an eyebrow at sunghoon’s growing frustration. taking his time, he wiped his hands on his pants, the calm smirk never leaving his face despite the tension in his eyes.

“yeah,” he said coolly, letting the moment hang in the air for a beat longer than necessary. “you guys can start.”

the room exploded into motion. sunghoon reached you first, his grip on your ankle firm and commanding, sending a jolt through your body. with one strong tug, he pulled you onto his lap, your legs straddling him, your body pressed flush against his. the sudden intensity made your head spin, his touch overwhelming.

before you could catch your breath, sunghoon’s hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer as his lips hovered inches from your neck. “you wanted this, didn’t you?” he growled, voice rough and thick with the hunger he had barely been holding back.

the sudden friction of sunghoon's clothed, rock-hard member rubbing against your soaked panties made your breath hitch. the heat between your bodies was unbearable, and the thin fabric only heightened the sensation. every inch of him pressed hard against you, his grip on your hips tightening as he ground into you with a low growl.

“fuck, you weren’t ready for that, huh?” sunghoon’s voice was rough, his breath hot against your neck as his hips moved in slow, deliberate thrusts, the friction sparking pleasure through you.

a moan escaped your lips, your body trembling as the sensation hit you, your hands instinctively grabbing his shoulders for support. sunghoon’s desperation was clear in the way he held you down, grinding into you with an intensity that left you breathless.

as your body rocked against sunghoon’s, the desperation in the room thickened even more. heeseung’s warm breath trailed up your neck, his tongue drawing slow, deliberate strokes along your skin, sending shivers through you.

the heat from both of their bodies radiated against you, with jake stepping in next, his hands sliding under your shirt, pushing it up and exposing your skin.

jake groaned low in his throat, his mouth closing over your nipple, sucking hard while his other hand kneaded your breast like he couldn’t get enough. his tongue swirled around your nipple, his breath ragged as he whimpered against you, each lick and tug driving you closer to the edge.

heeseung chuckled darkly against your ear, lips brushing just below your jaw. “she likes it when we’re all over her like this,” he teased, his fingers pressing into your waist, keeping you anchored between them.

jay, now half-naked, his eyes dark with lust, growled low in his throat as he kicked off his pants, his hand wrapping around his thick cock, stroking it slowly as he watched the chaos unfold. his gaze locked onto you like he was waiting for his turn, lips parted as he breathed heavily.

“don’t keep her all to yourselves,” jay muttered, his voice gravelly as he stepped closer, his hand tightening around his cock, eyes fixed on you like a predator.

he crouched down next to you, the heat of his body radiating against your skin. he gripped your chin firmly, tilting your face toward him, his voice thick with need. “open up for me, sweetheart,” he growled, the tip of his cock brushing against your lips.

with sunghoon grinding relentlessly into you and jake’s mouth on your chest, your body was on fire. your lips parted instinctively, and jay wasted no time, pressing the head of his cock onto your tongue.

“that’s it,” jay murmured, his voice low and commanding as he slid deeper into your mouth, his hand tangled in your hair to keep you in place. the weight of him filled your mouth, the stretch in your jaw immediate as you moaned around him, the sound vibrating through him.

heeseung’s raspy voice came from behind you, his hands roaming down your waist, tugging at the waistband of your panties. “fuck, look at her take it,” he chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest as his fingers slipped between your thighs, brushing against your soaked entrance.

sunghoon growled in frustration, his grip tightening on your hips. “don’t just tease her, heeseung. get her ready for my cock.” he ground against you harder, making you whimper around jay’s cock, the heat between your legs becoming unbearable.

“you heard him,” jay muttered, his hand guiding your head as he thrust into your mouth. “get her dripping for us.”

heeseung didn’t waste any time, his fingers slipping under the soaked fabric of your panties, brushing over your sensitive folds. he hissed softly, biting his lip as he felt just how wet you already were.

“damn, you’re ready for us,” he muttered, his voice thick with satisfaction as his fingers slid up and down your slick heat, teasing you, spreading the wetness with each slow stroke. every touch sent jolts of electricity through your body, making you clench around nothing.

sunghoon’s grip on your hips was bruising now, his frustration evident as he tried to hold back, shimmying out of his pants and positioning himself right at your entrance.

he let out a strained whine as the tip of his cock nudged your hot, dripping pussy, the heat from your body scorching. pre-cum was already leaking from him, but he wasn’t about to give in so easily—he wanted to hear you beg for it.

you were on the verge of losing it, overwhelmed by the sensation of jay’s cock sliding in and out of your mouth, sunghoon’s hard length grinding against you, and heeseung’s fingers working their magic on your dripping core.

your moans vibrated around jay’s cock, sending shivers through his body. his head tipped back slightly, jaw tight as he thrust deeper into your mouth, the slick sound of him fucking you filling the room.

jake, still sucking and licking at your chest, pulled back just long enough to glance down at the mess between your legs. “heeseung, move over,” he ordered, his voice low, commanding in a way that surprised you with its authority. “i’m gonna taste her.”

sunghoon reluctantly backed away, giving jake room as he pumped himself, his jaw slack as he stared at you. his eyes roamed over your body, the glistening heat between your thighs, the way your mouth wrapped around jay. “fuck, you’re perfect,” he breathed, voice rough with need.

jake wasted no time, lowering his head between your legs, his breath hot against your soaked folds as he took his first taste. the moment his tongue met your skin, your back arched, a sharp cry escaping around jay’s cock as the intensity hit you all at once.

your body was losing all control, shaking uncontrollably as jake’s tongue worked you into a frenzy. he sucked harder, lips wet and relentless, saliva mixing with your slick juices as heeseung's fingers curled expertly inside you, hitting that perfect spot again and again. the moans you tried to suppress around jay’s cock were still loud enough to drive them wild.

each jerk of your body was involuntary, the pleasure so overwhelming that it was impossible to stay still. jake’s grip tightened on your thighs, holding you in place as he devoured you, his tongue flicking and sucking in a rhythm that had you teetering on the edge.

every stroke of his tongue was more intense than the last, and your hips bucked against his face as he pushed you higher and higher.

heeseung chuckled low in your ear. “fuck, she’s dripping all over my fingers,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust.

“jake’s eating you out so good, isn’t he? you fucking love it, don’t you? love it when he fucks you with his tongue?” his breath was hot against your skin as his fingers twisted deeper inside you, curling just right, making you tremble uncontrollably. “just let go, baby. come all over jake. we’ve got you.”

jay’s grip in your hair tightened as he thrust deeper into your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat. “fuck, yeah… just like that. you’re gonna make me come, shit,” he groaned, his pace quickening, his hips slamming forward.

your spit dripped down your chin, mixing with the sweat covering your skin, the heat of the moment building to an unbearable level.

the sensations were too much—jake’s tongue on your clit, heeseung’s fingers inside you, jay’s cock filling your mouth—your mind was spinning, body on fire, the pleasure crashing over you in waves so intense you thought you might shatter.

your moans vibrated around jay’s cock, and you felt him twitch in your mouth, so close to release.

“fuck, give it to me, cum all over my mouth,” jake growled, his tongue circling your clit faster, sucking harder as his fingers dug into your thighs, pulling you impossibly closer. he didn’t stop, didn’t slow down, even as your body began to convulse, your release imminent. you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, as the pleasure hit you like a tidal wave.

and then it hit you—your climax tearing through you with such force that your vision blurred, your body shaking uncontrollably as the pleasure overtook you.

you squirted hard, soaking jake, who groaned with satisfaction, eagerly lapping at the juices spraying from you. your walls clenched tight around heeseung’s fingers, hips bucking uncontrollably against jake's mouth.

the moans that escaped your throat were muffled by jay’s cock as he let out a deep groan, thrusting one final time into your mouth before spilling a thick, overwhelming load down your throat, making you choke. you swallowed, but the struggle was clear, tears streaming down your face as you gasped for air.

that sight—your tear-streaked face, struggling to breathe—ignited something primal in sunghoon. pure possessiveness blazed in his eyes, and suddenly, he was on you. his aggression startled everyone as he shoved jake and heeseung aside, eyes locked on you, filled with a mix of rage and desire.

the impact of your back hitting the floor knocked the breath out of you, the pain only fueling the heat coursing through your body. a low moan slipped from your lips, making the corner of sunghoon's mouth twitch in satisfaction.

he towered over you, his hand gripping his cock as he slapped it against your soaked pussy, the slick sound cutting through the heavy air. “fuck,” he growled, his voice thick with lust. his eyes, dark and wild, locked onto yours as he hovered closer.

"shit, y/n… tell me you want it," he demanded, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "beg for my cock, or you’re not getting it."

his words sent a shiver straight down your spine, the dominance in his voice making your core clench with need. sunghoon’s hands gripped your thighs hard, spreading you wide as his cock teased your entrance, never giving you what you were so desperately aching for.

the tension rolled off him in waves, every muscle in his body coiled tight as he waited—needing to hear you beg.

your breath came out shaky, your body trembling beneath him, utterly at his mercy. “please… please, sunghoon,” you whimpered, your voice barely more than a whisper, but it was enough to push him closer to losing control.

“louder,” he growled, his cock slapping against your soaked pussy again, the contact sending sharp jolts of pleasure through your body. "beg for it like you fucking mean it, y/n."

“fuck, sunghoon, please… i need your cock, i need you inside me,” you cried out, your desperation clear, your back arching toward him as your body begged for more.

"try harder," he snarled, his words making your need even more urgent. without thinking, you hooked your arms around his neck, pulling him into a messy, heated kiss, your lips crashing against his as you mumbled desperate pleas between each kiss.

you couldn’t stop the whimpers that escaped, each one sounding more needy than the last as your tongue tangled with his, his growl vibrating through your body.

“fuck, y/n,” sunghoon rasped against your lips, the taste of your desperation driving him wild. you could feel him trembling as he finally let go of whatever restraint he had left, his cock pushing into your needy hole.

his control vanished in an instant as he thrust into you without any mercy, his cock burying itself so deep that it ripped a sharp gasp from your throat. the stretch was sudden, raw, and perfect. your body trembled, overwhelmed by the intensity, as sunghoon’s grip on your thighs tightened, his fingers digging into your skin while he pounded into you with a brutal, relentless rhythm.

“fuck, your pussy’s squeezing me so tight—shit,” sunghoon whined, his voice rough with need. each thrust came harder than the last, your slick walls pulling him in, wet and hot. it felt like heaven, and sunghoon was completely lost in it, knowing that every second of this was worth it.

“so fucking eager to be fucked, huh? such a slut for cock,” he growled, his hips slamming into yours with every word, each stroke harder, more punishing than the last, making your body rock beneath him as the pleasure and pain intertwined.

“told you i was gonna fuck this pretty pussy first,” he grunted, his hips snapping into yours with a ferocity that left you breathless, unable to do anything but take it.

“this is what you wanted, isn’t it? wanted me to ruin you.” his voice was dark, filled with satisfaction as his eyes bore into yours, the twisted pleasure on his face only fueling the fire inside you as he watched you fall apart beneath him, your moans spilling out uncontrollably, pushing him to fuck you even harder.

he leans down, lips brushing your ear as he growls, “say it—say you're mine. this pussy is mine. gonna let me fuck you whenever i want, huh?” his hand wraps around your throat, not too tight, but firm enough to make your breath hitch.

his other hand grips your hips, pulling you harder onto his cock with each brutal thrust. “you’ll just take whatever i give you, won’t you?”

your body trembles beneath him, his cock slamming deep inside you, hitting spots that made you see stars. “yes," you gasp out between moans,

"fuck, hoon... you're fucking me so good—god, you’re so good,” you cry out, barely able to form the words, overwhelmed by the sensation. your hands claw at his back, desperate for something to hold onto as he wrecks you, his pace merciless.

“shit, listen to you, moaning like a—” he growls, cutting himself off with a hard thrust, his grip tightening around your throat, just enough to make you gasp.

“this is my fucking pussy, got it?” his words send a jolt of arousal through you, your walls clenching tighter around him as he drives into you with reckless abandon.

his cock drags against every inch of your walls, the friction intense, almost too much to bear. the pressure inside you builds fast, unbearably tight.

"fuck, you're close, aren’t you? i can feel you squeezing around me," he hisses, his voice dripping with lust. "swallowing my cock so good... told you i'd fuck you first."

his filthy words push you over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you with blinding intensity. your body seizes beneath him, walls clenching hard around his cock as you scream his name, your mind going blank as the pleasure consumes you.

“that’s it... that’s my girl,” sunghoon groans, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases his own release, your tight, pulsing walls pushing him to the brink. “gonna fill you up with my cum, fuck—gonna make sure you’re full of it. no one else gets to fuck you like this.”

heeseung kneels beside you, his dark eyes locked on sunghoon for a brief second before they settle on you, hungry, possessive. his lips curl into that signature smirk as he leans in, his face just inches from yours.

before you can catch your breath, he crashes his lips against yours—rough, demanding—cutting off your moans as sunghoon continues to pound into you. his tongue slides against yours, greedy and insistent, before pulling back slightly, just enough to make you whimper at the loss.

"don’t listen to him," heeseung murmurs, his lips barely brushing yours, voice thick and low, like a promise of more. "we’re just getting started, baby. he’s just getting carried away." his words hit you like a shockwave, your body already trembling under sunghoon's relentless thrusts, but your eyes flicker up to meet heeseung’s, drawn to him like a magnet.

your lips part, jaw slack, as your tongue slips out in a silent plea. heeseung's gaze darkens, and he hisses, gripping your chin firmly. "mmh, look at you," he breathes, his lips hovering just above yours, teasing. "such a good girl."

sunghoon's pace is unforgiving, every thrust making your body jerk, your mind spiraling from the overload of sensations, but heeseung’s grip keeps your focus locked on him. he watches you like you’re the only thing that exists, and the control he holds over you makes his smirk deepen.

he leans in, gathering saliva in his mouth before letting it drip slowly down onto your tongue. the moan that escapes you is immediate, uncontrollable, as your body arches, savoring the taste. your eyes roll back, completely lost in the moment.

"fuck, you're filthy," heeseung growls, his thumb brushing over your wet lips. his other hand moves to your neck, fingers lightly tracing the sensitive skin before shoving two fingers into your mouth, making you gag instantly. the obscene sound that comes from you makes both him and sunghoon lose it.

"yeah, keep making those sounds," heeseung seethes, his fingers pushing further down your throat, the guttural, erotic noises you make driving him wild. "you're gonna drive us insane." his fingers press deeper, and you choke, gasping, your body shaking under their control.

sunghoon’s rhythm grows erratic, each thrust harder, more desperate as he watches you gag on heeseung’s fingers. his breath hitches, his body trembling as he slams into you with everything he’s got. the intensity sends your back arching off the floor, every nerve lit up.

jay wastes no time, moving behind sunghoon. his hands grip your hips as he lines himself up, sunghoon now fucking you even deeper. jay’s rough hold keeps you steady, the pressure leaving you breathless as sunghoon drives into you with brutal precision.

sunghoon’s moans turn desperate, guttural, his body on the edge, trembling as he loses himself in the sensation. "shit- what the fuck, you're so good." he groans, his hips snapping against yours, everything about him focused on drawing out every bit of pleasure before he explodes.

and just when you think you’ve hit your limit, jay’s tongue flicks against your ass, teasing, prodding. the sensation rips through you like lightning, and you gag into heeseung’s mouth, unable to stop the filthy, wrecked sounds pouring out of you. heeseung’s fingers tighten on your chin, holding your mouth open, making you choke on the pleasure as he kisses you harder, rougher, more possessive.

"shit, you gonna let jay fuck your ass, baby?" heeseung hisses against your lips, his eyes blazing with lust as he watches you completely unravel beneath them. "gargling on my spit while they fuck every inch of you... you're perfect, aren't you?"

you were a trembling mess, body taken over like a doll for them to use, while jake stood nearby, stroking his cock, eyes glued to the scene in front of him. his hand pumped faster, the slick sound of his own arousal filling the room as he watched sunghoon, jay, and heeseung ruin you.

"y/n, you make me so hard," jake muttered, his voice strained, hand moving quicker. "can't wait to fuck that used-up pussy…"

the moment you gargled around heeseung’s fingers, jay slipped his fingers into your ass, spreading your cheeks wide to give himself better access.

the weed had already relaxed your body anyway, and his fingers moved with ease, stretching you out for what was coming. his groan was low, almost animalistic, feeling how tight you were.

he slapped your ass hard, his voice gruff. "been wanting to stretch this ass wide open. fuck, you can take both of us, right? yeah, you fucking will."

without warning, jay yanked his fingers out and lined himself up, thrusting inside you in one swift motion. your body jolted at the sudden fullness, gasping as your ass clenched around his thick cock. the stretch was intense, so overwhelming tears welled up in your eyes. you tried to shake your head, but heeseung’s grip held you in place, forcing you to take it.

heeseung's fingers slid out of your mouth just as you gasped, your throat raw from the obscene sounds you couldn’t stop making. "oh fuck… jay… shit!" you cried out, voice trembling, body barely able to handle the intensity.

jay moaned loud, hips rolling deeper into you, feeling you clench around him. "shit, it's like you wanna rip my dick off," he growled, hands digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. "fuck, you guys gotta try her ass."

the room was filled with moans, the wet slap of skin on skin, heavy breathing surrounding you. sunghoon never stopped, still pounding into your pussy while jay was deep in your ass. you were stretched so full, every nerve lit up, your body struggling to keep up with the pleasure.

jay and sunghoon moaned together, their voices blending as they fucked you, their cocks rubbing against each other through the thin wall inside you. it was driving you crazy, overwhelming you, pressure building so fast it felt like you were going to burst. you gasped, breath shaky, tears spilling over as you choked out the words, "oh god, hee… please… fuck my mouth."

heeseung sneered, gripping your jaw roughly, forcing your mouth open wider. your tongue hung out, drooling, and the sight of you—wrecked, desperate—made them all groan.

"greedy little slut," heeseung hissed, slapping his cock against your tongue, smearing your spit all over. "you’d let us stuff every fucking hole, wouldn’t you?"

you couldn’t respond, only whimpering, mind fogged with pleasure as tears of frustration ran down your face. jay’s hips snapped harder into your ass, his cock stretching you so much your eyes rolled back. "fuck her mouth, give it to her," jay groaned, his grip bruising as he fucked you like he owned you.

sunghoon wasn’t gentle either, his thrusts deep, punishing. "you love this, don’t you?" he growled, voice thick with lust as he drove into you. "being stuffed like the filthy whore you are? fuck, you’re made for this."

you whined around heeseung’s cock, mouth stretched wide as he shoved himself down your throat without a shred of mercy. he laughed darkly, watching you struggle, gagging on him. "slut," he spat, "just a toy for us to fuck. that’s all you are."

sunghoon’s thrusts became erratic, his grip on your waist tightening as he groaned through clenched teeth. with a final, brutal slam, he moaned loudly, pumping his load deep inside you. the hot cum spilled from your pussy, dripping down to slick jay’s cock as he continued fucking your ass.

sunghoon collapsed to the side, his body spent, but jay never stopped, thrusting relentlessly into your dripping cunt. he yanked you by your weak arms and pulled you to his chest, his cock still driving into you without pause, your tits bouncing in his face as he groaned in your ear, the mess between your legs only adding to the filthy sensation. your body was a mess of pleasure, full and dripping, as jay made sure to keep you stuffed, switching between holes with no hesitation.

jay pulled you into a sloppy, messy kiss, lips crashing against yours, tongue forcing its way in as both of you moaned into each other. the room was filled with the obscene, wet sounds of bodies moving together, relentless, as jay continued fucking you without pause.

"fuck, you're so full of his cum," jay groaned, his hands digging into your hips, pushing you down harder on his cock, the stretch making you cry out.

he spread your ass wider, lips brushing your ear as he hissed, “come on, hee... fuck her ass. she's already stretched, she can take it.”

heeseung wasted no time, moving behind you as sunghoon laid on the floor, spent and panting. his hands gripped your hips hard, cock teasing your ass, still slick from jay. without hesitation, he pushed the tip inside, groaning at the tightness as he worked deeper. “mmh, you're still tight after jay stretched you out,” he growled, voice thick with lust. “you're gonna take every inch of me, aren't you?”

heeseung started fucking your ass with hard, deliberate thrusts, and jake stepped in front of you, his fingers roughly tangling in your hair. he yanked your head back, breaking your kiss with jay, forcing you to look at him, annoyance clear in his eyes. “don't ignore me,” jake snapped, tone low and teasing. “use that mouth, or do i need to fuck your throat to get your attention?”

he tugged harder, guiding your mouth to his cock. “suck,” he ordered, his other hand stroking himself slowly, teasing the tip against your lips. “you're gonna suck me off while they fuck you full.”

your body trembled, struggling to keep up. heeseung pounded your ass, jay still buried deep in your pussy, leaving you breathless. you parted your lips, taking jake’s cock into your mouth as he gripped your hair tighter, pushing deeper. “that’s it,” jake groaned, his hips starting to move. “fuck, my cock tastes good, doesn’t it? been dreaming of fucking your mouth—shit.”

they didn’t let you catch a breath. every gasp, every muffled cry was swallowed by the pace they set, fucking you from every angle. jake’s cock stretched your throat, obscene sounds escaping as heeseung brutalized your ass, and jay fucked your pussy with every snap of his hips, their hands gripping you like they owned you.

jake’s head fell back, a guttural moan escaping his lips. “fuck, your throat’s just as good as your pussy,” he groaned, voice rough.

jake chuckled darkly, tightening his grip on your hair as he thrust deeper into your mouth. “look at you,” he rasped, watching the tears stream down your face as you gagged. “you look like you’re gonna pass out baby, but no chance. i'm not done with you.” he snapped his hips, making you choke, not caring as your throat tightened around him.

heeseung was relentless, fucking your ass with a brutal pace, hands digging into your hips, bruising them. “we're gonna ruin you for anyone else,” he growled, breath ragged. “no one else is ever gonna fuck you like this.”

your body convulsed, another orgasm tearing through you, muscles trembling as you shrieked around jake’s cock. tears streamed down your face, eyes rolling back as the euphoria hit. it felt like your body might break, the pleasure so intense that for a brief moment, you didn’t care if it did.

jay’s hands tightened on your breasts, squeezing hard as his thrusts grew erratic, desperate. “fuck, fuck, fuck!” he screamed, slamming into you one last time, spilling himself deep inside.

his hot release filled you, and his grip on your chest never eased as the aftershocks hit. “fucking take it,” jay growled, slapping your tit hard enough to make you gasp.

as he finally pulled out, panting heavily, thick cum dripped from your pussy, pooling beneath you. your body, completely used, trembled from the lingering sensations, and your mind flickered to jungwon’s concoction, hoping it could handle how filled you were. but you knew there’d be no rest—no, they wouldn’t allow it yet.

as jay shuffled away, completely spent, jake pulled out of your mouth, leaving you gasping for air, your jaw sore, but it wasn’t over. not even close. heeseung pulled you up against his chest, his cock still deep in your ass, your back arching as he adjusted his grip.

his arms wrapped around your trembling, sweat-slick body, holding you tightly against him, your back pressed to his chest. the shift made your tits bounce, your entire body shaking with every breath as heeseung’s lips found your neck, sucking hard, intent on leaving his mark. deep, dark hickeys bloomed on your skin—reminders of his claim.

each time heeseung thrust into you, it felt like he went even deeper, hitting that spot inside that had your vision blurring, moans spilling from your lips uncontrollably. you knew you wouldn’t have a voice left after this. his teeth scraped along your neck, leaving sharp stings followed by the heat of his mouth as he groaned against you.

"baby, you’re wrecking my cock," he growled, voice rough with lust, hips driving into you with brutal precision. "like that? bouncing like a fucking toy, taking all of it."

your body jerked with every thrust, tits bouncing, sweat and cum covering your skin as his grip tightened around you, locking you in place, making sure you felt every inch of him inside, the way he destroyed your ass with every stroke.

heeseung groaned, the sound heavy with need, slamming into you harder. "i’m not stopping until you’re completely fucking ruined."

your knees ached from the hard surface beneath you, your body struggling to stay upright with the relentless pounding. you were overstimulated, mind hazy with exhaustion and pleasure, but jake wasn’t done.

dropping to his knees in front of you, his mouth latched onto your breast, sucking hard enough to make your nipples throb. you cried out, hands gripping his hair, your body shaking, but jake didn’t stop. his mouth trailed down your cum-soaked skin, licking every drop until he reached your pussy.

“fuck, jake, you’re insane,” you moaned, voice breaking as his tongue pressed against your swollen folds. he devoured the mix of cum left behind by sunghoon and jay, his mouth slurping loudly as he cleaned you out. the filth of it sent another wave of pleasure ripping through you, making you shudder.

he was gone—completely lost in eating you out, his moans vibrating against your clit as he licked and sucked with reckless abandon. his hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he devoured you, his own cock throbbing against the floor, neglected but hard. he hadn’t even fucked you yet, but he was already a mess, moaning and trembling as he tasted you.

"your pussy tastes so good, look at all that..." jake groaned, his voice muffled as he buried his face deeper, his tongue swirling around your clit before dipping back inside, trying to get every last drop. his desperation was clear, his moans louder, pre-cum was dripping from his cock, smearing against the floor as he rutted slightly, completely lost in you.

he didn’t even register what he was doing when he slid his tongue lower, chasing every inch of you, savoring how soaked you were. your scent, the taste of your cum, the slick warmth—he was drunk on it.

and when his tongue accidentally brushed against heeseung’s balls as he pounded into your ass, jake didn’t hesitate. he licked them, making heeseung hiss and shudder.

"fuck, jake," heeseung’s voice was low, half a growl, surprised but not stopping, his thrusts not slowing for a second. normally, shit like this would piss him off, make him snap, but not now. it actually felt fucking amazing.

"sorry, shit," jake mumbled, barely pulling away from your pussy, his breath hot against your skin. but he didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down, too caught up in everything—your taste, heeseung’s reaction, the way you were trembling beneath him. everything.

"don’t… fuckin’ stop," heeseung groaned, voice rough, almost a growl, his thrusts hitting deeper, harder, his grip tightening around your waist as jake's mouth teased both of you again.

he wasn’t just fucking you now—he was commanding the moment, taking control. his fingers dug into your skin, keeping you pressed against his chest, as he forced jake closer.

and so he did—jake didn’t need to be told twice, but this time, he wasn’t holding back. his tongue worked faster, more deliberate, not just for you but for both of you.

as heeseung kept pounding into you, his movements relentless, he shifted his grip—one arm locking you tight to him, the other burying itself in jake’s hair, gripping it hard.

heeseung tugged with a roughness that made jake moan, the sound desperate, his body shaking as he continued, his sobs of pleasure muffled against your soaked pussy.

heeseung yanked jake's head roughly, pushing him deeper, controlling his pace, and the sharp tug sent jolts of pleasure through jake’s body as he obediently worked his tongue faster, a shudder running through him with every sound you made.

this obviously took jay and sunghoon aback, lounging with jungwon as they watched the scene unfold in front of them. even though they were completely spent, bodies still glistening with sweat, neither of them could tear their eyes away.

they didn’t even find it disgusting—no, it was the opposite. it was captivating in a way they couldn’t explain, something raw and primal that kept them glued to the sight of jake sobbing in pleasure as heeseung fucked you relentlessly.

sunghoon leaned back, his chest rising and falling steadily as he watched, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "fuckin’ hell, didn’t expect that from him," he muttered, voice still hoarse from earlier. jay, on the other hand, stayed quiet, his eyes locked on the way jake's body shook, almost in awe of how intense everything had gotten.

"need to fuck you now please, can i?" jake growled, pulling away from your pussy only to crash his lips against yours, the taste of cum still lingering on his tongue.

you were completely sandwiched between them now—heeseung fucking you from behind, his cock buried deep in your ass, and jake pushing his way into your pussy. the overwhelming sensation had your walls clenching around jake, both of you letting out a moan that filled the room.

you couldn’t think, your mind clouded with nothing but pleasure. jake kissed you again, forcing the taste of cum into your mouth as he rocked his hips into you. "tastes good, baby?" he mumbled, voice rough against your lips.

"that came from your pussy… fuck, you’re such a cum dumpster. gonna take my cum now? let me fill you up too?" his words slurred, babbling as he thrust into you, his hips moving desperately. "shit… you feel.. so fucking good."

jake's forehead pressed against yours, his breath hot and heavy as your moans mixed, mouths barely breaking apart. your eyes fluttered open, desperate to see his face, to see the wrecked look you knew would be there. but as you glanced to the side, your breath hitched in your throat at what you saw.

jungwon stood across the room, casually leaning against his workstation, his hard-on straining painfully against his pants. his face was unreadable, but you could feel the tension radiating off him, simmering just below the surface.

his eyes were locked on you, watching every movement, every moan, like a predator waiting for the right moment to pounce. you could already imagine the possessive thoughts racing through his head, the silent promise that when it was his turn, there’d be no sharing.

but it wasn’t just his stare that had you frozen—it was the objects in his hands. a vial of green liquid in one, and a soft pink silk restraint in the other. the realization hit you hard, your stomach tightening as your gaze flicked to the vial. jungwon noticed the recognition in your eyes, and his lips curled into a faint, eerie smile, almost psychotic, before disappearing just as quickly. it sent a shiver down your spine.

the vial glinted ominously in his hand, that twisted smile still playing on his lips as he stood there, patient and watching.

before you could fully process the threat that hung in the air, jake grabbed your chin roughly, forcing your eyes back to him. "i’m the one fucking you right now," he growled, his voice sharp, possessive.

"look at me." his lips crashed against yours, biting down hard on your bottom lip, as if punishing you for daring to focus on anyone else. his hips snapped harder into you, the brutal force of it making your body jolt, your pussy clenching around him involuntarily.

"focus on me," jake muttered against your lips, his words slurring as he drove into your overly sensitive pussy. "i’m tired of you looking at everyone else... you wanted me first, didn’t you? this tight little cunt is mine right now. you feel that? feel how fucking deep i am?" his hand slid down to your waist, pulling you harder onto his cock, making you gasp. "don’t even think about him, you hear me?"

his voice was rough, a snarl on the edge of breaking as he babbled, his need for control overwhelming. every thrust was possessive, reminding you that in this moment, jake owned you, and he wanted every inch of you to know it.

"do you want it? want my fucking cum?" he groaned, his pace growing desperate, each snap of his hips more erratic than the last.

"holy shit, she's squeezing me," heeseung panted behind you, his voice tight with strain as your ass clenched around him. he was close, but he wasn’t ready to let go yet.

there was an unspoken agreement between them all—no one would leave your pussy empty when they came. with a growl of determination, heeseung suddenly pulled out, leaving you trembling, whimpering at the sudden emptiness.

what he did next knocked the breath out of you.

"oh no—fuck, heeseung, you’re not serious," you gasped, your voice hoarse from overstimulation and exhaustion. tears welled in your eyes as he lined himself up next to jake’s cock.

and before you could brace yourself, he pushed inside alongside jake, both of them filling you at once. your walls stretched impossibly tight around their cocks, the heat of their bodies overwhelming, their movements rough and synchronized.

"she feels even better like this," jake groaned, his head falling back as the two of them moved together, their cocks rubbing against each other inside you. the stretch was unbearable, the sensation of being split open making your body writhe in overwhelming pleasure and pain, your voice cracking as you gasped for air.

"fuck, you're ripping me," you cried, your body convulsing, caught between pleasure and agony as they took you to your limit. each thrust was deeper, rougher, their hands gripping your body like they owned you completely.

"you can take it," heeseung growled, his fingers digging into your hips, pushing himself deeper. "fuck, yeah." his voice dripped with satisfaction, his eyes rolling back as your pussy clenched around both of them, your body greedily taking every inch. beside him, jake’s thrusts became more frantic, hips jerking as he fucked you with reckless abandon, lost in the overwhelming heat and tightness.

the room was filled with the wet slap of skin, their heavy breathing, and your broken cries as they used you, driving your body to the edge over and over again. they weren’t going to stop until you were completely, utterly ruined.

"mmh, fuck-" jake shudders as he gasped, "i can't—fuck, i think i'm gonna—" jake's words faltered, his body trembling violently as he teetered on the edge, completely overwhelmed. his movements became sloppy, his mind clouded by nothing but lust, barely able to keep pace.

heeseung noticed immediately. his hand shot out, wrapping tightly around jake's throat, choking him hard. "don't fucking stop now, keep fucking her," heeseung commanded, his voice dripping with authority as jake gasped, eyes wide as the pressure cut off his air. instead of pulling away, jake’s body reacted, cock twitching inside you, the choke sending him deeper into a haze of raw, lust-fueled pleasure.

you moaned, voice ragged, as you watched jake gasp for air, heeseung’s grip firm around his throat. the sight alone fueled the fire inside you, every part of you spiraling into filthy ecstasy.

"shit, jake, you like that? heeseung choking you? you slut." you teased, barely able to get the words out between your own desperate moans.

before you could say more, jake’s hand flew up, slapping you sharply across the face—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to send a stinging heat across your skin. your head snapped to the side, the sharp pain blending with the overwhelming pleasure, your walls clenching around them as you cried out, feeling the wetness dripping down your thighs.

his fingers gripped your chin roughly, pulling your face back to his, eyes blazing with an almost feral intensity. "open," jake growled, voice dark and commanding. without hesitation, you opened your mouth, tongue out, trembling as your body rocked between their brutal thrusts, completely at their mercy.

he leaned in closer, breath hot against your lips as his gaze bored into yours. "who’s the slut?"

"wanna say that again?" jake sneered, his grip on your chin tightening, his face inches from yours, daring you to challenge him. the heat of his breath mixed with the raw intensity in his eyes, made your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to catch your breath.

but you couldn’t resist. a smirk tugged at your lips, defiant even as you quivered between them. "yeah, you're still a slut," you spat out, voice breathless but full of challenge.

jake’s eyes darkened, the tension thick as he held your gaze for a moment, a dangerous smirk spreading across his face. without a word, he grabbed your hair, yanking your head back, exposing your throat to him.

"you’re gonna fucking regret that," he hissed, his free hand sliding down your body, nails digging into your skin as heeseung’s relentless thrusts had you seeing stars.

jake’s grip on your hair was ruthless, pulling your head back to the point where your neck ached, but the pain only heightened the intensity coursing through you.

his words dripped with menace, sending a shiver of excitement straight through your core. you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your lips, the sharp pain mixing perfectly with the pleasure as your body responded to both of them in ways you couldn’t control.

"regret it?" you managed to rasp out, voice shaky, taunting. "i fucking doubt it."

heeseung chuckled darkly behind you, his chest pressed against your back as his thrusts grew harder, slamming into you with a brutal force that made it impossible to stay quiet.

"she’s got a mouth on her," heeseung growled, his voice low and rough in your ear, his fingers digging into your hips, making sure you couldn’t move, couldn’t escape from the relentless pleasure he was giving you.

jake’s hand slipped from your chin to your throat, squeezing just enough to make your breath catch. his other hand slid down your body, fingers finding your clit, rubbing it in slow, teasing circles.

the combination of his choking grip and the overwhelming sensation between your legs made your mind go blank for a moment, all coherent thought replaced by the raw heat of ecstasy.

"we’ll see how long that attitude lasts," jake growled, fingers pressing harder on your clit, sending jolts of pleasure that had you twitching, your body betraying you.

you tried to hold back the moans, to keep some semblance of control, but it was useless. between the two of them, you were at their mercy, every nerve ending on fire, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

heeseung’s breath was hot against your ear as he leaned in, voice dark and teasing. "let’s see who’s the slut now."

jake's hand tightened around your throat, cutting off your air just enough to make your pulse race even harder. his eyes were wild, almost crazed as he watched you struggle to hold back the moans that threatened to spill from your lips.

"go ahead," he taunted, his fingers still working your clit mercilessly. "i want to hear you beg for it."

your breath came out in shaky, broken gasps as you fought for control, but the pleasure was too much.

heeseung’s brutal thrusts from behind were relentless, hitting that perfect spot deep inside you with every thrust, driving you closer and closer to the edge. you could feel the heat building in your stomach, spreading through your entire body like wildfire, your legs trembling beneath their assault.

"fuck, she’s close," heeseung grunted, his voice rough, his grip on your hips so tight it was sure to leave bruises. "you feel that, jake? she’s struggling." god, the way they were talking to each other made you moan, it's like

"yeah, se's close," jake growled, loosening his grip on your throat just enough to let you gasp for air before squeezing again, making your head spin. "but i want to hear her say it."

jake’s grip tightened just enough to make your breath falter, his eyes locked on yours, daring you to disobey. "say it," he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "say you’re a fucking slut."

your body trembled, so close to the edge that every part of you ached, desperate for release. but you bit down on your lip, holding back the words, refusing to give him what he wanted, like the brat you are.

heeseung’s chuckle against your ear was dark, mocking. "stubborn, huh?" his thrusts grew sharper, harder, sending jolts of pleasure through you that made your legs weak. "you’re gonna break sooner or later, baby. might as well just say it."

jake’s fingers worked relentlessly on your clit, teasing you, pushing you further into the haze of pleasure and pain. "we’re not letting you come until you say it," he taunted, his voice thick with lust. "tell us what you are."

tears welled in your eyes, the overwhelming sensation of their touch and the relentless pace of heeseung’s thrusts making it harder, you could feel yourself about to explode, every nerve on fire, the knot in your stomach was almost painful.

"come on," jake pressed, his grip on your throat loosening enough to let you catch your breath before squeezing again. "say you’re our slut. say it."

the tears finally spilled over, your body trembling violently between them, unable to hold back anymore. your voice came out broken, shaky, and desperate. "i’m… i’m your slut," you choked out, barely able to get the words past the sobs wracking your body.

"louder," heeseung demanded, his thrusts slamming into you with brutal force, making you cry out. "fucking mean it."

"i’m your slut!" you cried, voice hoarse, tears streaming down your face as you gave in completely, the shame and desire mixing into one overwhelming sensation. "please, i’m your fucking slut—just let me come, please!"

with one harsh grip to your chin, jake forced your jaw open, eyes dark with lust as he spat into your mouth, just like heeseung had done earlier. the warm sensation hit your tongue, and instead of recoiling, a wicked grin tugged at the corners of your lips.

you swallowed it down without hesitation, staring up at him, that filthy smile only growing wider, more dangerous. it drove jake wild, his lip caught between his teeth as he fought back a groan.

it drove jake fucking insane. his lip caught between his teeth as he tried to stifle a groan, but it escaped anyway, raw and guttural. "fuck, hee, did you see that?" he growled, his eyes burning with something darker as he looked over at heeseung. "she fucking loves it. look at that smile—one dick ain’t enough for her."

jake’s fingers tightened around your chin, his dark gaze never leaving yours. "she’s fucking gone," he hissed, voice desperate as his cock plunged in and out of you, the wet sounds of their bodies pounding into you echoing around the room. "she can’t even think anymore."

"gonna fuck your brain into mush," heeseung groaned, without hesitation, his teeth sank into your skin, biting hard, sending sharp waves of pleasure-pain through you. the mixture of sensations—his bite, jake’s relentless thrusting, the overwhelming pressure—had you completely at their mercy, body trembling uncontrollably.

jake was no gentler, his hands rough as they grabbed your tits, squeezing before biting down harshly on one, sucking with a feral need. "shit, shit—you’re sucking me dry," he moaned, words slurred as his movements grew more erratic, nearing his breaking point.

their cocks drove into you in a perfect, punishing rhythm, every thrust slamming deep, pushing you beyond your limits you could feel your walls breaking.

your body shook with overstimulation, every nerve ending on fire as they chased their own release, using you for their pleasure. heeseung’s grip on your hair tightened, his breath hot against your neck, his thrusts becoming harder, more frantic.

"spoiled brat," jake growled, his voice thick with lust as he slammed into you, hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. "you gonna cum again, huh? you wanna fucking cum? do you even deserve it?"

"jake- yes! please—i’m gonna—oh god, fuck!" you cried out, voice a broken, desperate moan, your body trembled violently, overwhelmed, your mind drowning in the pleasure completely. your climax building impossibly high, threatening to tear you apart.

"oh fuck, baby, you're gonna make me—" heeseung groaned, his voice shaky as he lost control, hips slamming into you with brutal intensity.

jake came first, his body jerking violently against you as his thrusts grew erratic, his release flooding your already overstimulated pussy. his mouth hung open, eyes rolling back, groaning loud as pleasure overtook him.

"fuck—i’m cumming, shit, y/n," he panted, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself into you, the heat of his cum filling you completely.

as jake lost himself, heeseung was right behind. a harsh, guttural sound tore from his throat, raw and animalistic, sending shockwaves through you. his hands gripped your hips with bruising force, your body jerked violently between them.

heeseung’s hand clamped over your mouth just as the loudest, most desperate scream escaped your lips, making your body thrash beneath them. but he held you down, his other hand gripping tightly as both he and jake filled you, their cum mixing and spilling out, hot and thick. the sensation of being so completely used, so utterly claimed, sent your mind spiraling into a haze.

even when they stopped thrusting, both of them still buried deep inside you, your body kept trembling. your eyes remained shut, your chest heaving as small, broken whimpers slipped from your swollen lips. you were wrecked, every nerve buzzing with overstimulation, your mind lost in the pleasure and exhaustion of being used.

jake and heeseung stayed still, panting heavily, their bodies pressed against yours as they soaked in the aftermath. you lay limp between them, your pussy pulsing around their softening cocks, completely spent.

"shit, heeseung, look at her," jake muttered, his voice hoarse, hand trailing down your trembling body. "so pretty." the room was heavy with the scent of sex and sweat, your body quivering as you slowly came down from the high, too exhausted to even open your eyes.

they both carefully pulled out of you, slow and deliberate, but the second they did, thick streaks of cum spilled from your overstretched pussy, dripping down your thighs in a messy display of just how ruined you were. your body collapsed back into heeseung’s lap, legs trembling, trying to catch your breath.

barely conscious, your eyelids fluttered, blinking through the fog of exhaustion. jake, equally drained, toppled over you, pressing his weight down, letting out a satisfied groan. heeseung chuckled, the sound raspy and low, wrapping his arms around your waist, holding you both close.

“you two are gonna kill me,” heeseung murmured with amusement, burying his face in your neck, breathing in the scent of sweat and cum. jake snuggled against you, his face nuzzling into your chest, his breathing slowing, completely spent and content.

"fuck, that was insane," jake muttered sleepily, his voice barely a whisper, still pressed against you. heeseung hummed in agreement, his grip tightening around you both.

the three of you lay there, bodies tangled, sticky and sweaty, but none of it mattered.

or maybe it did matter—for jungwon, who had been watching from the sidelines, his brain already plotting, imagining how he would reduce you to a moaning mess next. they already gave quite the show, and his eyes had been glued to you the entire time, impressed at how you’d managed to take almost all of them. but jungwon had more in store for you, much more.

jay, sensing the moment was winding down, had slipped away during the chaos, only to return with pillows and a blanket. his usually cocky demeanor was softened by the care he took in handling them.

"got you these," jay murmured as he carefully slid the pillows under your head, draping the blanket over your exhausted, sweaty body, covering both you and the guys who clearly had no intention of pulling away yet.

his movements were unexpectedly gentle, the usual edge in his demeanor replaced with something softer, more tender. you managed a quiet, breathless "thank you," eyes fluttering shut as a content sigh escaped your lips. he ruffled your hair lightly, the gesture almost foreign coming from him. you looked up at him, half-surprised, and for a moment, you could swear there was a faint blush creeping up his cheeks as he grew sheepish under your gaze.

before you could process it further, sunghoon, who had been quietly watching from the sidelines, knelt beside you. his movements were slow and careful as he wiped you down with a warm cloth, the sensation soothing on your overworked skin. his touch was so light, deliberate, as if he was afraid to overwhelm you after everything you’d been through. "you did amazing," he whispered, his voice calm and reassuring, his fingers brushing delicately over your skin.

but he couldn’t help the subtle roll of his eyes when he glanced over at jake, who had practically buried himself deeper into your chest, looking completely content. "always the clingy one," sunghoon muttered, though there was a soft smirk tugging at his lips as he continued to clean you up, the contrast between jake’s possessive hold and his own quiet attentiveness making the moment feel almost too surreal.

jake, still nestled against you, let out a soft laugh, his arm draped lazily over your waist. "how’re you feeling?" he asked, voice playful, but his eyes betrayed genuine concern as he looked up at you, his face soft and a bit unsure.

"fucked—literally," you mumbled with a small, tired smile. "but in a good way."

heeseung chuckled behind you, his chest pressing against your back as he held you close, his breath steady. “yeah, we didn’t go easy on you, did we?” he teased, placing a soft kiss on the back of your neck. "but you took it like a pro."

sunghoon, still gently wiping you down, smirked at your response. “we’ll go easier next time,” he promised, though the gleam in his eyes made you highly doubt that.

jake, his cheek pressed against your chest, suddenly tensed, his smile faltering. "hey… uh, about what i said earlier," he began, his voice softening, the playful edge gone as he looked up at you.

"i didn’t mean it like… like you’re actually a slut. i just—" he stammered, the flush in his cheeks deepening as he scrambled to explain himself. "you know what i mean, right? like, you’re not literally—"

you couldn’t help but smile at how flustered he was getting, his usual cocky demeanor replaced with a rare moment of awkwardness. "i know, jake," you reassured him, running your fingers through his hair, trying to ease the tension.

"yeah, but you are… i mean, you were… in that moment," jake continued, still stumbling over his words, his face reddening more as he tried to justify himself.

your brow quirked up, amusement dancing in your eyes. "really, jake? now you’re shy? when you’ve been trying to fuck me this whole time?" you teased, running a hand lazily through his hair. "where’s all that cocky energy gone?"

jake groaned, burying his face deeper into your chest, clearly embarrassed. "shut the fuck up," he mumbled, his voice muffled against your skin, his fingers gripping your waist a little tighter.

"it just feels different, alright?" his words came out in a rush, like he was annoyed with himself for even having this conversation.

he shifted again, still holding you close, and you could feel the tension melt away as he relaxed into your embrace. "fuck," he muttered, almost to himself, his voice quieter now.

"i dunno why, but it just… i just really fucking like this." he sounded so out of character, the way he was practically clinging to you, like he couldn’t get close enough.

you smirked, amused by his sudden vulnerability. "so, you’re saying you’re soft now?" you teased, brushing your fingers against his jaw, making him groan again, clearly frustrated.

"shut up," jake repeated, this time more flustered, his face buried against you. "it’s not like that. i just—shit, i don’t know." he sighed, his voice dropping lower, almost vulnerable. "just… don’t fucking move, okay?"

heeseung, hearing all of this, chuckled softly against your ear, his grip still firm around you. "guess the tough guy act’s wearing off," he teased, making jake groan louder, his face buried against your chest, clearly embarrassed but unwilling to let go. you could feel jake’s heart pounding against you, his arms tightening as if he needed the comfort of your warmth.

jungwon, still standing by the counter, had been watching the entire interaction with quiet intensity. there was something heartwarming in his gaze, but it was masked by a slight irritation that he couldn’t shake—he’d been pent up, just like the others, but every single one of them had managed to get their turn with you while he was left waiting. he let out a low hum, his eyes meeting yours for a brief second before he pushed off the counter and approached with slow, deliberate steps.

“don’t worry,” jungwon said, his tone calm but laced with a sharp edge. "i’m not evil enough to fuck you after all that." despite the reassuring words, there was an unmistakable intent in his voice, something that made your pulse quicken even in your exhausted state.

"but first..." his gaze flickered down to the vial he’d been holding this whole time, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips. "there’s something we need to take care of."

"open," he instructed, his voice commanding, impossible to ignore. despite your body’s exhaustion, your lips parted as he stepped closer, the small green vial gleaming in his hand. before you could protest or question what it was, he tipped the vial to your lips, forcing the bitter liquid into your mouth.

the moment it hit your throat, you gagged, instinctively trying to reject the sharp, acrid taste. but jungwon’s hand was firm, cupping the back of your head as he tilted the vial further, making sure you swallowed every drop.

"you’re not wasting a single bit, unless you wanna have problems guessing who the father is," jungwon murmured, his voice smooth but unyielding as you coughed, struggling to swallow the rest. the bitterness clung to your tongue, your eyes watering from the taste, but jungwon didn’t release you until he was sure you’d swallowed every last drop.

as you gasped for air, wiping at your mouth, jungwon’s gaze stayed locked on yours. "good," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your lower lip to catch a stray drop of the liquid. "you’ll thank me later."

the frustration on his face made you feel guilty, and you frowned, seeing how tense he still was.

"shit, won... sorry i couldn’t—" you started, your voice weak and shaky, but jungwon shushed you softly, his expression softening.

his fingers gently swept your messy hair away from your face, brushing it back with unexpected care. "it’s okay," he murmured, voice calm as his fingers tucked a strand behind your ear. "take a break. you’ve done enough."

then, just as you began to relax, jungwon leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. his tongue slid sensually along your earlobe, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine. his voice, low and dangerous, whispered only for you to hear, "because you’re gonna fucking need it."

the shudder that ran through your body was involuntary, your mind racing at the implications. "i’ll take care of the rest," jungwon added, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a rare show of gentleness. the commanding edge in his voice had faded, replaced by a calm so unnerving it almost felt like a warning.

he wasn’t done with you yet, not even close.

“y’all still smoking?” you asked, your voice hoarse, eyes drifting toward jay and sunghoon. only now did you notice just how high they were, both of them lounging in their own hazy world. it made sense why they’d been so gentle while taking care of you—they were absolutely fried.

their movements were slow and lazy, the drugs in their systems clearly still working through them. but as your gaze shifted to jungwon, it became clear he was just as high, though he tried harder to hide it.

his posture was tense, grip still tight around the pink silk restraint in his hand—he hadn’t let it go once. the sharpness in his eyes was slightly dulled by the haze, like he was trying to stay in control despite the obvious hit he’d taken.

heeseung sighed, gently trying to move jake off you, but the weight of both you and jake had him pinned. he could feel a low jealousy bubbling up, watching jake nestled so peacefully against your chest, completely oblivious to everything else. heeseung muttered, “come on, man,” his legs starting to go numb.

“sorry,” you mumbled, shifting slightly, and immediately, the soreness between your legs made you wince. your pussy throbbed from the earlier overstimulation, and the sticky remnants of their cum clung to your skin, making the discomfort impossible to ignore.

jay, noticing your wince, shot you a lazy grin. “didn’t want to clean you up just yet, considering jungwon still has plans…” his voice was casual, but the implication hung in the air, sending a shiver down your spine.

jungwon stood nearby, taking a long drag from the vaporizer. despite how new he was to it earlier, he seemed way too comfortable now. his brows furrowed slightly, deep in thought, though his eyes flickered toward you with a sharp, unreadable look.

“it’s fine,” jungwon finally said, voice calm but with an edge that sent a shiver down your spine. “i can wait… as long as she can handle what’s coming next.” his lips curled into a tight smile, a contrast to the calmness in his voice, and the anticipation in his words made your heart race.

sunghoon, moving slowly like he was floating, took the vaporizer from jungwon and inhaled deeply. without a word, he walked over to you, his hands gentle as he helped you sit up despite the soreness.

before you could react, he leaned in close, pressing his lips to yours, shotgunning the vapor into your mouth. the warm, calming sensation filled your lungs, and your body immediately began to relax, melting into the moment.

“there we go,” sunghoon murmured softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. your head tilted back as the tension drained from your muscles. “thought it would help.”

you managed to raise an eyebrow, despite the glossy haze in your eyes and the lazy smile spreading across your lips. "what’s gotten into you guys?" you asked, voice soft and teasing, "i swear, i’m not used to this."

"you just gave us the best fucks of our lives," sunghoon replied, his voice low and teasing as he leaned back slightly, watching the lazy smile play on your lips. his eyes held that same mischievous glint, but now, they were filled with something more, something raw and satisfied.

he trailed his fingers gently over your thigh, his touch soft but deliberate. "you didn’t think we’d just let you crash after that without making sure you’re taken care of, did you?"

the vapor worked quickly, easing the aches and discomfort from your body. you felt your mind fog over slightly, the haze blending with the lingering exhaustion.

“water?” heeseung’s voice broke through the haze as he knelt beside you, holding a bottle out. his gaze softened as he unscrewed the cap. “slow sips,” he urged, bringing the bottle to your lips.

you nodded weakly, the cool water sliding down your throat, refreshing and soothing.

“better?” heeseung asked gently, his hand resting on your back, his touch careful.

“i’m really loving this attention, not gonna lie,” you teased, a tired smile pulling at your lips despite the exhaustion weighing on your body.

heeseung chuckled softly, handing you the bottle. “you earned it.”

jay, lounging nearby, gave you a playful wink, while jake, who was sprawled out next to him, laid face down on the one and only sofa in the station, his hands dangling over the edge, completely zonked out.

sunghoon, still close by, smiled at you, leaning in slightly. “you love being spoiled, huh?”

you laughed softly, feeling the tension in your muscles start to ease. “who wouldn’t?” you replied, the warmth of their attention slowly pulling you back from the brink of exhaustion.

then jungwon’s voice cut through the light atmosphere, drawing everyone's attention. “i…” he began, like he wanted to say something but held back, taking another slow drag before exhaling.

“nevermind, rest for now,” he continued, eyes locking onto yours. “the concoction i gave you will work, so don’t worry about getting pregnant. you were smart for thinking ahead about that.”

he paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on you, lips curling into a small smile that hinted at something more. “but you’ve got an appointment with me tomorrow.”

the casual tone of his words did little to mask the seriousness behind them. the others exchanged glances, the atmosphere shifting as curiosity and anticipation filled the room.

“i’ll make sure everything’s taken care of,” jungwon added, taking another drag, eyes never leaving yours. “so just rest… for now.”

“you’re smoking a lot,” you murmured, eyeing the vaporizer in his hand as he took another slow drag. despite his calm demeanor, the bulge straining in his pants told a different story.

jungwon leaned back, exhaling slowly, his eyes flickering over you with a casual intensity. “i have to,” he replied simply, though the tightness in his voice betrayed his calm exterior. his arousal was impossible to ignore, his hard-on evident.

you could feel the tension building again, though it was clear jungwon was holding back—for now.

if only you knew what he had in store for you next.

the peaceful moment was shattered by the sudden crackle of the intercom, piercing through the haze and making everyone jolt in place. the lazy, satisfied calm that had blanketed the room instantly vanished, replaced by the cold slap of reality.

"attention crew, this is HQ,” a stern voice announced, cutting through the tension. “we’ve detected irregularities in the ship’s systems. a team inspection is required immediately.”

you blinked, still dazed, trying to process the situation, your sore body sinking deeper into the blankets. sunghoon, high as fuck, let out an exasperated groan, rubbing a hand over his face as he sat up, his previously calm, gentle demeanor turning sour.

“fuck, can’t believe i have to steer while i’m this baked. they’re gonna get us all killed.” his eyes were still half-lidded, the effects of the vaporizer clearly not having worn off.

jay, equally stoned, gave a lazy grin, though it faltered as the weight of the announcement settled in. “of course this shit happens right now,” he muttered, leaning back and stretching, trying to look more alert than he actually was.

heeseung sighed, shifting carefully to disentangle himself from you and jake, his legs long gone numb from holding both of you. “yeah, well, it was good while it lasted,” he grumbled under his breath, rolling his shoulders as he got up.

"fuck reality," jake muttered, still half-asleep, his face nestled in your chest, clearly unwilling to move. “i was finally getting comfortable.”

“right?” sunghoon groaned, reluctantly pulling himself to his feet with exaggerated slowness. “i swear, if i have to fly this ship while feeling like this, we’re definitely crashing into the moon. and then what? i die high as shit.”

jay snorted, rubbing his eyes. “well, at least you'd go out happy. i have to figure out diagnostics, and i’m still seeing stars.” he dragged a hand through his hair, clearly unenthused about the sudden shift from relaxation to responsibility.

jungwon, still leaning against the wall with the vaporizer in hand, took a slow, deliberate drag, his grip tightening slightly on the pink silk restraint he hadn’t let go of. despite the haze still lingering in his gaze, his sharp intensity remained. “can’t we just pretend we didn’t hear them? five more minutes?” he suggested dryly, a small smirk pulling at his lips.

heeseung rolled his eyes, already slipping back into commander mode despite the lingering effects of the smoke. “nope. get your shit together. sunghoon, you’re at the helm. jay, diagnostics. jake—wake up and run an external scan. jungwon—" he paused, catching jungwon’s focused gaze and the subtle smirk on his face. “you know what to do.”

jungwon exhaled slowly, blowing smoke from his lips as he pushed off the wall. “yeah, yeah. i’ll check the power core,” he said smoothly, though the hint of frustration was clear. his eyes flicked to you, the heat still simmering beneath his calm exterior. he pocketed the restraint, a silent promise that this wasn’t over. “you’ll rest, i’ll make sure everything’s handled.”

jay let out another exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. “of course. i was this close to being fully horizontal again.” he gestured dramatically, the high still evident in his sluggish movements. “and now i gotta go pretend i know how to fix shit.”

sunghoon nodded toward him, snickering. “at least you’re a scientist. i just push buttons and hope for the best.” he stretched out his arms lazily.

you laughed softly, wincing at the soreness but feeling comforted by the banter. “well, if you guys need me... you can call,” you offered, your voice still raspy but sincere. even though your body felt like it had been through the wringer, you didn’t want to leave them to deal with everything alone. “i mean, not that i’ll be much help right now, but...”

heeseung, now fully in command mode, shot you a soft smile as he bent down to brush a few stray strands of hair from your face. “we’ve got it covered,” he reassured you, his voice calm but firm. “you rest, okay? we’ll handle it.”

jungwon, still lingering near the door, shot you a knowing look. “besides, you’ve got bigger things to worry about,” he said with a sly grin, his fingers tapping the pocket where the pink restraint was tucked away.

the teasing glint in his eyes made your heart race, but you couldn’t help the tired smile that crept onto your face.

"i’ll worry about that later," you muttered, your body finally starting to relax as the exhaustion took over. jungwon’s smirk lingered in the back of your mind, but the soft sheets and the warmth of the blanket wrapped around you pulled you deeper into comfort.

as the sounds of the others prepping for the inspection faded, you let your eyes close. despite everything, you felt a sense of calm knowing they had it covered. and as the weight of sleep slowly settled over you, you realized that whatever jungwon had planned... it could wait.

your breathing slowed, your body finally giving in to the much-needed rest, that sly grin of his the last thing etched in your mind before sleep finally took you.

── .✦⸝⸝ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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[floweycidal]

Is it just me or does flowey get humbled in both genocide and pacifist routes?

Genocide because he felt the pain and fear he caused others

Pacifist is pretty self explanatory

to say flowey was humbled would be an understatement. bro really did all this just to lose LMFAO

on a serious note, you're right. flowey does get humbled. in every route, actually. that is because he is destined to lose. to me, the world seemed like it just never accounted for his revival, nor did it consider anything that might spring from his existence.

flowey's entire life was built around frustration, a world that spun on without him, leaving him behind like an afterthought. no matter how many resets he triggered, how many paths he took, he never found meaning. nothing he did felt real, nothing produced anything that lasted. he was drowning in the monotony, in the overwhelming sense that the universe was dull and utterly uncaring about whether he was there or not.

this is where his delirium n obsession begins. if the world wouldn’t offer him anything worthwhile, he’d take it. if the universe ignored him, he would force it to notice. he became consumed with the need for control, desperate to pull the strings, to carve out something, anything meaningful in a life that had none.

but regardless of what he did, it was never enough. he saw every outcome, lived every route, read every book, burned every book. he spared everyone, he killed everyone. none of it ever amounted to anything.

the same faces, the same hollow conversations, the same endless loop. every time, it brought him right back to where he started, as if he hadn’t done a thing.

that was the real cruelty. whatever he tried, the outcomes were always the same, predictable and unfulfilling, none of them going in a way that truly satisfied him. they bored him, wore him down, as though the universe was mocking his every effort. every route he took, every decision he made led to nothing substantial. he was losing interest. his reasons for living were dwindling, fast.

the world went on, indifferent to his suffering, and that very apathy ate away at him. it drove him crazy out of his mind.

then you came along. suddenly, there was hope. a perverted kind of hope that maybe this time would be different. you could finally bring about something authentic into his life, your unpredictability a breath of fresh air. it was a flutter of change in a universe that had otherwise forsaken him.

in geno, flowey is almost thrilled by the chaos you cause. he praises you, revels in your violence, as if your cruelty is proof that his worldview was right all along. you become the demon he always believed you could be. and for a brief instant, he feels justified, even vindicated. but even that falls flat bc in the end, you take things further than he ever could. you tear through the world with a coldness that makes even him tremble. he’s staring down the barrel of his own logic, realizing that in a world where you’ve killed everyone, you’re going to kill him too. the power he used to reset everything, to cheat death, means nothing now. he’s left with nothing but terror. whoever convinced him he was in control? #humbled

in neutral, flowey tries one more time. he taunts you, eggs you on, hoping that at least in death, he can prove that the world is as cruel and merciless as he always believed.

but when you spare him, when you refuse to give him that twisted validation, it’s the ultimate rejection of everything he stands for. mercy is the one thing he can’t handle because it'll just mean he was wrong. you don’t have to be violent to win. you don’t have to be cruel to survive. so... he flees. #humbled

in pacifist, flowey is convinced this is it. he is god. he finally wields the power to keep you here with him. you'll play his game over and over again, and this time, he’s sure it will work. but as fate would have it, you break through his defenses, restoring the lost souls and calling out to him with a warmth that disarms him completely.

he’s left flabbergasted as his power falters against your unwavering spirit. for all his might, he realizes he’s lost control (again). all his efforts to grasp at godhood collapse, leaving him to reckon with the reality that his power meant nothing in the presence of true compassion. #HUMBLEDD

all flowey ever wanted was a single victory. just One. in a life stripped of everything dear, where he was left with only emptiness, he yearned to believe that if he held on tightly enough, if he played his cards just right, he could finally win. but that outcome was always just out of reach.

it slipped away like everything else. it simply was not meant to be.

flowey's most formidable foe was ultimately himself. as it turns out, his refusal to let go is what truly condemned him.

for letting go meant accepting chara was gone, and nothing could ever return to how it was.

for letting go meant remaining a soulless flower, trapped in a dismal existence, endlessly tormented by his loss and incapacity to love as he once did.

for letting go meant confronting the unsettling possibility that he might never find joy again.

for letting go meant accepting that perhaps, after everything, there genuinely was nothing left for him.

...is it really any wonder, then, that he sought out control with such pitiful desperation?

siiiiiigh

i'm not sure how we ended up here, but.... thanks for the ask, anon!

[lifeofpriya]

So Long, London - Jack Draper

[gif credit goes to @pyotrkochetkov]

a/n: this fic was heavily inspired by @pyotrkochetkov's post a few days ago about a jack angst fic idea she wanted someone to write 🤭 this is probably the longest fic i've ever written, so sit down, grab a drink and some snacks, and buckle down for the ride, y'all!

summary: what once was a vibrant relationship begins to fade, leaving both of you to drift apart and question your future together...

You woke up to the soft patter of rain outside the window, the sound barely audible over the steady hum of the city below. Stretching, you felt the stiffness in your body from the long hours spent at the office, the tension that had become a second skin to you. Your apartment in the heart of London was a sanctuary from the outside world, a place where you could shed the mask of the day and just be.

Jack's side of the bed was empty, the sheets cold to the touch. You knew his schedule by heart now: early morning training sessions, a quick breakfast, and then off to the courts. You had met him at a charity event a few months ago, and it had been love at first serve. His hazel eyes had pierced through the bustle of the crowd, his smile a warm embrace even in the chilly London air. He was everything you had ever wanted: successful, charming, and attentive.

But lately, something had changed. The texts grew shorter, and the phone calls less frequent. His dedication to tennis seemed to have swallowed him whole, leaving you with the crumbs of his attention. You tried not to let it show and pretended everything was fine, but the cracks in your relationship had started to widen like a fissure in a frozen lake. The apartment that once echoed with laughter and shared dreams now felt more like a museum of memories, each room a silent exhibit of what used to be.

As his career was reaching new heights, your world was slowly shrinking. The thrill of watching him play had become a distant memory, replaced by the cold reality of his absence. His victories no longer filled you with joy, but instead, a sinking feeling of loneliness. You had become an afterthought in his life, a box to check off his to-do list. You missed the way his eyes used to light up when you talked about your day, the gentle way his hand would brush against yours, the way his laughter could fill a room.

The effort you put into maintaining the façade of happiness grew tiresome, like a dance you had learned by heart but no longer enjoyed performing. You'd stay up late into the night, scrolling through social media, watching as his life played out in highlight reels and sponsored posts. The more successful he became, the more invisible you felt. You tried talking to him, but he'd always dismiss it as work stress, promising things would get better once the season was over. Yet, the seasons changed, and so did nothing else.

One evening, you decided to surprise him at his match. The stadium was packed, the air thick with anticipation as he took to the court. You watched him from the stands, his muscles flexing with each powerful serve, his eyes focused solely on the prize. He didn't see you there, not even when you cheered louder than anyone else. After his victory, you waited for him by the exit, clutching the bouquet of flowers you had bought. He walked by, surrounded by an entourage of fans and colleagues, and for a moment, his eyes met yours. But they didn't linger. They slid away as if you were just another face in the crowd.

The ache in your chest grew sharper with each passing day. You found yourself questioning every little thing: every unanswered text, every late-night training session, every time he chose the courts over you. The silence between you had become deafening, a void that swallowed up the love that once thrived. You knew you couldn't go on like this, living in the shadow of his career, but you were afraid to let go. The thought of ending it all was like contemplating the destruction of your own heart.

The rain had stopped, but the gray sky remained a gloomy backdrop to your mood. You decided to take a walk, hoping the fresh air would clear your thoughts. The cobblestone streets were slick under your shoes, and the scent of wet earth and the distant waft of a bakery mingled in the damp air. Each step took you further from the apartment, away from the reminders of the life you had built together, and closer to the realization that it was all falling apart.

As you strolled through the quiet, tree-lined streets, you passed by a small café. Through the steamy window, you saw a couple holding hands over a cup of coffee, their smiles a stark contrast to the sadness you felt. You thought about the times you and Jack had sat in places like this, sipping hot drinks and sharing your hopes and fears. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Your eyes stung with unshed tears, and you quickened your pace, not wanting to be caught in a moment of weakness.

You found yourself in the park, the same one where you had shared your first kiss. The leaves were turning gold, a poignant reminder of the autumn of your relationship. You sat on a bench, watching as children played nearby, their laughter a bittersweet symphony that taunted the silence in your soul.

You had enough. You knew you deserved better, more than the fleeting moments of affection and the empty promises of quality time. So, you gathered your courage and decided to confront Jack. You waited for him to come home, your heart racing with every tick of the clock. When he finally walked through the door, sweat-soaked and exhausted, you couldn't hide the sadness in your eyes anymore.

"Jack, we need to talk," you said, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

He looked up from his gym bag, surprise etched on his weary face. "What's up?"

You took a deep breath, the words you had rehearsed so many times now poised on the edge of your tongue. "This isn't working anymore, is it?"

Jack paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob as he processed your words. The weight of the unspoken hung heavily in the air, a silent testament to the distance that had grown between you. He sighed, a heavy sound that seemed to carry the weight of the world, and dropped his bag to the floor. "What do you mean?"

You could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the lines around his mouth that had deepened since you last had a real conversation. But there was something else, too. A flicker of guilt that confirmed what you already knew. "I mean," you began, your voice wavering slightly, "that we're drifting apart. That your tennis is consuming everything, and I'm just… I'm just here, waiting for you to come up for air."

Jack leaned against the door, his posture deflating as he took in your words. He rubbed the back of his neck, a habit he had when he was stressed or confused. "I know I've been busy," he started, his voice low and sincere, "but I thought we were okay."

You felt a knot in your throat, the years of pent-up frustration and love tangled together in a mess that was difficult to unravel. "Okay isn't enough," you said firmly. "I need more than okay."

Jack's eyes searched yours, looking for a hint of the spark that had brought you two together. He took a step closer, his hands reaching out tentatively, as if to bridge the gap that had grown between you. "What do you want from me?"

You hesitated, the question echoing in your mind. What did you want? You wanted the love you had felt in those early days, the excitement of discovery, and the comfort of shared experiences. But that seemed like a distant dream now. "I want you," you said finally, the words coming out more as a plea than a demand. "I want the person I fell in love with."

Jack's expression softened, and for a moment, you thought he might understand. But then his eyes clouded over again, and he took a step back. "You know I can't just quit tennis," he said, his voice a mix of frustration and resentment. "This is my life. This is what I've worked for."

You felt the sting of his words, but you didn't flinch. "I'm not asking you to quit," you replied calmly. I'm just asking for balance—for us to be a priority again."

Jack looked at you, his eyes searching yours for understanding. He ran a hand through his damp hair, leaving it in disarray. "You know how much this means to me," he said, his voice strained. "But I'll try."

You nodded, hope flickering in your chest. Maybe there was a chance, a glimmer of the love you had lost. But the doubt remained, a persistent whisper in the back of your mind. The next few days were filled with tentative gestures and half-hearted attempts at connection. He'd stay up later to watch a movie with you, or surprise you with breakfast in bed, but the underlying tension remained. You could feel it, a tightrope you both danced upon, afraid to misstep and send everything plummeting into the abyss.

One evening, Jack came home earlier than expected. He had lost a match, his first in months. The defeat etched on his face was raw, unfiltered. You wanted to comfort him, to tell him it was okay, that you were there for him no matter what. But when he saw you, his eyes darkened, the weight of his failure crushing the fragile peace you had constructed.

"What are you doing here?" he snapped, his voice laced with frustration. "I need to be alone."

You felt the rejection like a punch to the gut, but you remained steadfast. "Jack, it's okay to lose," you said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. "It doesn't change who you are."

He shrugged you off, his eyes burning with anger and disappointment. "You don't get it," he said, his voice tight. "This isn't just a game to me. It's everything."

You took a step back, the coldness of his words sending a shiver down your spine. You had never seen this side of him before, the side that was consumed by the sport, the side that didn't have room for you. "I do get it," you said, trying to keep the hurt from your voice. "But you can't let it be everything. You can't let it eat away at us."

Jack didn't respond, instead, he turned away and headed to the shower, the door slamming shut behind him. You stood there, unsure of what to do next. The apartment felt smaller, the air thick with the unspoken. You knew you had to give him space, but the walls seemed to be closing in on you, suffocating you with the weight of his pain and your own fear.

You wandered into the living room, the silence deafening. You picked up a book from the coffee table, trying to find solace in the pages, but the words blurred together, indistinct and unimportant. Your thoughts kept drifting back to the conversation, to the coldness in his eyes when he pushed you away.

The sound of the shower finally stopped, and you could hear Jack moving around in the bedroom. You set the book down and took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come.

When he emerged, his face was scrubbed clean, but the sadness in his eyes remained. He saw you sitting there, and for a moment, the anger was gone, replaced by a look of regret. He sat down next to you, his elbows on his knees, and leaned his head in his hands. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice cracking. "I didn't mean to push you away."

You put the book aside and turned to face him. "Jack, we can't go on like this," you said gently, taking his hand in yours. "I can't keep pretending everything's fine when it's not."

He looked up at you, the regret in his eyes deepening. "I know," he murmured. "I've been so focused on tennis that I've neglected us. I've taken you for granted."

You shook your head, "I can't live my life fueled with empty promises anymore." The words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the chasm that had formed between you.

Jack's gaze dropped to the floor, his grip on your hand tightening. "I know I haven't been the best partner," he admitted, his voice a hoarse whisper. "But I want to change. I want to make it work."

You studied his face, searching for the truth in his words. You knew he meant it, but the doubt remained, a stubborn shadow that had taken root in your heart. "I've given you so many chances," you whispered, your voice trembling. "I'm done fighting for a relationship that feels one-sided."

Jack took a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours with a newfound vulnerability. "I know," he said, his voice thick with regret. "And I've let you down. But if you give me one more chance, I'll prove to you that I can change. That we can find that balance."

You felt your heart ache, torn between the love you still had for him and the pain of his neglect. "Jack," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "I don't know if I can do this anymore."

He looked at you, the reality of your words sinking in. He leaned over and took your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had started to fall. "Please," he begged, "just one more chance. I'll do whatever it takes to make it right."

You stared into his eyes, the green of the leaves outside the window casting a mottled light over his features. The love you had for him was still there, a dull throb that wouldn't go away, no matter how much you wished it would. You wanted to believe him, you really did. But the doubt was a heavy burden that you had been carrying for too long.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, pulling away from his grasp. "But I can't keep doing this." Your voice was shaky, but your resolve was unwavering.

Jack's eyes searched yours, desperation pooling in their depths. "What do you mean?"

You took a deep breath, the words sticking in your throat like a mouthful of dry toast. "I mean, I can't keep holding onto something that isn't working," you said, your voice firm despite the tears threatening to spill over. "I've given you all of me, and I need more than just the leftovers of your time and attention."

Jack's expression fell, the realization of his actions settling on him like a heavy fog. He opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out. Instead, he dropped his hands to his sides, his shoulders slumping in defeat. The silence that followed was a physical presence in the room, a thick and heavy blanket that suffocated any semblance of comfort.

You stood up, the tremble in your legs betraying your inner turmoil. "I need some time to think," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. You turned and walked to the bedroom, each step feeling like you were walking away from a piece of yourself. You shut the door gently, leaving him sitting on the couch, alone with his thoughts.

In the bedroom, you leaned against the closed door, your chest heaving with the effort to hold back sobs. You took a moment to compose yourself, to breathe in the air that was now thick with the scent of their cologne, a smell that was once comforting but now a stark reminder of the empty promises and unfulfilled dreams. You looked around the room, at the photos of happy moments together, the trophies that gleamed in the soft light, and the empty space on the nightstand where your picture used to be.

You grabbed your phone and dialed your best friend's number, the one person who knew every detail of your relationship, every high and low. You needed her calm voice, her unwavering support. She picked up on the first ring, and without saying a word, you could feel the empathy radiating through the line. She knew something was wrong.

"He's not changing, is he?" she asked gently.

You took a deep breath, the truth of her words a heavy stone in your chest. "I don't know," you managed to choke out. "I want to believe he will, but I can't ignore the feeling that it's just going to be more of the same."

Your friend's voice was a soothing balm, offering comfort without judgment. "You've done everything you can," she said. "It's time to think about what you need."

You nodded, even though she couldn't see you. You knew she was right. You needed more than just a promise of change. You needed action, a commitment to the relationship that matched the one you had been giving all along. You sat down on the bed, the mattress squeaking under your weight, and took a deep breath. The rain had started again, the droplets tapping a solemn rhythm on the window.

Jack's side of the closet was a testament to his life on the road, a chaotic mess of suitcases and rumpled clothes. You stared at his tennis shoes, the ones he had worn when you had watched him win his first major tournament. They were pristine white, now scuffed and worn from his relentless pursuit of greatness. You felt a pang of sadness, wondering if his dedication to the sport had cost him more than just your happiness.

With a heavy heart, you began to pack a bag of your own. You didn't know where you'd go, but you knew you couldn't stay here anymore. Each item you placed in the bag was a symbol of your own strength, a declaration of independence from the shadow of his success. The sound of your zipper closing was the final act in a play that had gone on for too long.

You walked out to the living room, your bag slung over your shoulder, and found Jack still sitting on the couch. He looked up at you, his eyes red and puffy, the weight of his own regret etched into his features. "I'm sorry," he murmured again, but the words felt hollow in the face of your resolve. "I guess this is it," he said, standing up.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. The words you wanted to say, the anger and hurt you had bottled up for so long, threatened to spill out in a flood of accusations and recriminations. But you knew that wouldn't change anything. You had made your decision, and it was time to move on. "I need to go," you said, your voice calm despite the storm raging within.

Jack stepped aside, allowing you to pass. As you moved through the apartment, each room whispered memories that now felt like ghosts. You paused in the kitchen, the sight of the mug tree bringing a lump to your throat. So many mornings you had made him tea, hoping the simple act would be enough to keep him grounded, to remind him of what he had waiting for him at home. It was a futile hope, one that had been shattered by the relentless pull of the courts.

You took one last look around, the walls now echoing with the silence of your unanswered calls and the emptiness of his promises. The door clicked shut behind you, a finality that resonated through your bones. The cool air outside was a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere you had left behind.

You wandered the streets, the rain now a gentle patter that matched the rhythm of your thoughts. Each step took you further from the apartment, from the life you had built with him, and closer to the unknown. The city lights reflected off the wet pavement, casting a shimmering glow that seemed to mock the darkness of your heart.

You called a taxi, the neon lights of the car blinking through the mist like a beacon of escape. The driver looked at you in the rearview mirror, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. You gave him the address of a hotel you had found online, one that offered a quiet refuge from the tumultuous storm of your emotions.

As the city passed by in a blur of lights and rain-slicked streets, you stared out the window, the cold glass pressing against your forehead. Your thoughts swirled like the wind outside, a chaotic mix of doubt, anger, and sorrow. You wondered if you were making a mistake, if you were giving up too quickly. But the weight of the decision settled in your stomach like a lead ball, a sure sign that you were doing what needed to be done.

When the taxi pulled up to the hotel, the doorman rushed to open the door, offering you a sympathetic smile as you stepped out into the damp night. The lobby was a welcome respite from the storm, warm and quiet, with a faint scent of vanilla and fresh flowers. The receptionist offered her condolences for the weather as she checked you in, her eyes flicking to the bag slung over your shoulder, but she said nothing about the tears that had streaked your cheeks.

You took the elevator to the top floor, the ride up feeling like an ascension to a new chapter of your life. The room was small but cozy, with a plush bed that beckoned you to rest and a view of the city that reminded you of the vast expanse of possibilities ahead. You set your bag down, and for a moment, you just stood there, listening to the rain tap against the window, feeling the weight of the silence that was now yours alone.

You called your friend back, her voice a lifeline in the sea of your doubt. She talked you through the pain, her words of encouragement and understanding a salve to your bruised heart. She reminded you of who you were before Jack, of the dreams you had put on hold, of the life that was still waiting for you outside the shadow of his ambition.

You took a long, hot shower, letting the water wash away the tension and the tears. You felt the warmth seep into your skin, rekindling a spark of life that had been all but snuffed out. When you emerged, you wrapped yourself in a soft towel and looked in the mirror. The person staring back at you was tired but determined.

You pulled on a pair of comfortable pajamas and climbed into the bed, feeling the cool sheets against your flushed skin. You lay there for a while, listening to the rain outside, feeling the sadness wash over you in waves. But as the night grew darker, something shifted. The weight of your decision began to feel lighter, replaced by a quiet sense of relief. You had stood up for yourself, and that was something to be proud of.

As you drifted off to sleep, your mind played back moments of your relationship—the laughter, the tears, the passion. You felt the ache of loss, but also the flicker of hope. Maybe this was the end, or perhaps it was just the end of a chapter. Either way, you knew you had made the right choice.

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of the city waking up. The rain had stopped, and the sun peeked through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. You felt a strange mix of emotions—sadness, relief, fear, and a hint of excitement for the unknown. You knew you couldn't stay in this hotel forever, but for now, it was your sanctuary, a place to heal and decide your next steps.

You ordered room service, and the comforting taste of tea and toast was a gentle reminder of the life you once knew. You spent the day in a daze, watching movies and scrolling through social media, trying to distract yourself from the reality of your situation. But every notification, every article about Jack's latest match, brought the pain back in full force.

In the quiet solitude of the hotel room, you allowed yourself to grieve the relationship you had lost. The highs and the lows, the love and the neglect, all culminating in this moment of solitude. You cried until there were no more tears left, until your eyes were puffy and your throat raw.

As the days passed, you began to feel the tentative beginnings of strength. Each time you checked your phone and saw a message from Jack, you resisted the urge to respond immediately. Instead, you took a deep breath and waited, letting the words sit unanswered, giving yourself the space to think and feel.

You started to explore the city again, the same streets that had once been the backdrop to your shared life now a canvas for new adventures. You visited museums and parks, wandered through markets and cafes, rediscovering the joy of doing things on your own terms. The world didn't revolve around his schedule anymore, and the freedom was both exhilarating and terrifying.

Meanwhile, Jack's life continued on the tennis tour, but the sting of your departure remained. He found it difficult to focus, his mind often drifting to the emptiness of the apartment and the echo of your voice. His performances on the court suffered, and the whispers of doubt grew louder in his ears. He knew he had lost more than just a partner in you; he had lost a piece of himself.

"Game, set, match, Alcaraz," the announcer's voice boomed through the stadium, and Jack's shoulders dropped in defeat. His eyes searched the stands, but there was no sign of you. It had been weeks since you had last spoken, and the void in his life was a constant reminder of his failure.

The applause from the crowd seemed muted as he made his way to the locker room, the weight of his loss heavy on his shoulders. His coach tried to offer words of encouragement, but Jack knew that nothing could fill the emptiness that your absence had left. He had pushed you away with his obsession, and now he faced the stark reality of a life without your warmth and support.

In the quiet of his hotel room, Jack stared at his phone, the screen lighting up with messages from his agent, his coach, and his friends. But the one message he craved was from you. He knew he had to make a change, to prove to you and himself that he could balance his career with the love you both deserved.

The weeks passed in a blur of matches and press conferences, but Jack couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that had settled in his chest. His game suffered, his focus scattered. His entourage noticed the shift, their worried glances and hushed conversations a constant reminder of his personal turmoil.

One evening, after a particularly crushing loss, Jack found himself unable to face the empty hotel suite. Instead, he wandered the streets, seeking solace in the anonymity of the city.

He ended up at a small, dimly lit pub, the kind of place where the locals gathered to drown their sorrows and share their stories. The warm, woody scent of beer and the comforting murmur of conversation wrapped around him like a blanket. He took a seat at the bar, the polished wood cool against his palms.

The bartender, a middle-aged woman with a kind face and a knowing smile, approached him. "Rough day?" she asked, her voice a gentle rumble.

Jack nodded, his eyes downcast. "Rough few weeks, actually," he murmured, the weight of his words heavier than the silence that followed.

The bartender leaned closer, a hint of concern in her gaze. "Love troubles?" she ventured.

Jack sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Something like that," he replied, staring into the amber depths of his whiskey.

The woman nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. "It's tough when you lose someone important, especially when you know you're the one who messed up." She wiped the counter with a cloth that had seen better days. "But you're young, and you're talented. You've got time to make it right."

Jack took a sip of his drink, the burn in his throat mirroring the ache in his heart. "I just don't know if I can," he said, his voice thick with regret. "I've lost so much already."

The bartender's expression softened. "You can't change the past, love," she said, her voice a soothing balm. "But you can learn from it. Sometimes, you have to hit rock bottom before you realize what you truly want."

Jack nodded, the whiskey warming him from the inside out. He knew she was right. The pain of losing you had brought a clarity to his life that he hadn't felt in a long time. Tennis was his love, his passion, but it couldn't be his everything.

The next day, Jack took a deep breath as he walked into the gym, his eyes scanning the familiar space for any signs of change. His coach noticed the determination in his stride and nodded approvingly. They began to work on a new strategy, one that didn't just focus on his serve and volley but also on his mental fortitude. Between sets, Jack's thoughts drifted to you, to the way your eyes would light up when he talked about his matches, the way you'd listen intently and offer insights that often proved invaluable. He missed that connection, the way you understood him in a way no one else did.

As he swiped the sweat from his brow, Jack made a silent vow to become the person you deserved, to find the balance between his love for tennis and his love for you. It wasn't going to be easy, and he knew that he couldn't expect you to come running back with open arms. But he had to try, for both of your sakes.

One day, while he was in line at the coffee shop, Jack heard a familiar laugh. His heart skipped a beat, and he spun around, only to see you with an unfamiliar man, smiling and chatting away. The sight of you with someone else was like a knife to the chest. He quickly averted his gaze, pretending not to notice, but the pain was acute. He realized he hadn't seen you in person since that rainy night you left.

Jack's hand trembled as he took the coffee the barista handed him. He stepped aside, watching you from a distance, feeling like an outsider in a scene that used to be so intimately his. The stranger put his arm around your shoulders, and Jack felt a surge of jealousy that surprised him. He had known you needed more, but seeing it with his own eyes was a different story.

But you didn't miss the way Jack's eyes lingered on you, the desperation in his gaze. You felt a pang of guilt, but you steeled yourself. You had moved on, hadn't you?

You couldn't deny it, your heart skipped a beat when you saw him. You wanted to run into his arms and tell him you'd made a mistake, that you could work it out.

"You still have feelings for him, don't you?" You heard Alex whisper, a sad smile playing on his lips. You nodded, sipping your hot beverage.

"It's hard not to, but…I've moved on," you replied, trying to convince yourself more than anyone else.

"Have you though? Really moved on?" Alex's question lingered in the air, his gaze holding yours as you took another sip of your beverage. You swallowed hard, the warm liquid doing little to soothe the sudden tightness in your throat. "It's okay if you do," he added gently, "but maybe it's time to talk to him."

Jack watched you from across the street, his heart hammering in his chest. He had hoped that with time and distance, the pain would lessen, but seeing you with someone else brought it all rushing back. The months of training, the endless matches, none of it had filled the void you left behind. He knew he needed to make a change, to find a way to balance his love for the game with the love he had for you.

With a newfound resolve, Jack approached you, his sneakers squeaking on the damp pavement. You turned, surprise flickering in your eyes before they clouded over with caution. Alex stepped aside, giving you space. "Can we talk?" Jack asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, leading the way to a nearby park bench. The rain had stopped, leaving the air fresh and clean, the scent of wet earth and leaves filling the space between you. You sat down, leaving a respectful distance, your eyes avoiding his. "What is there to say?" you began, your voice tight with unshed tears.

Jack took a deep breath, his eyes searching yours. "I've been thinking about us," he said, his voice raw with emotion. "I know I've hurt you, and I'm sorry. I never meant to make you feel like you weren't a priority."

You remained silent, watching the children playing in the distance, the sound of their laughter a stark contrast to the heaviness of the conversation. "It's more than that, Jack," you said finally, your voice steady. "It's about feeling seen, heard, and valued. It's about being a team, not just having someone to come home to when you're done with your day."

Jack nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "I get it," he said, his voice low and earnest. "I've been so focused on my career, I lost sight of what's truly important. I want to change that. I want to be better for you."

You studied him, looking for the truth in his words. The old Jack, the one who used to make you feel like the center of his world, seemed to be peeking out from behind the tired, burdened exterior. "What does that mean, exactly?" you asked, your voice laced with skepticism.

Jack took a deep breath, bracing himself for the hardest conversation of his life. "It means that I'll make time for us, really make time," he began. "I'll schedule breaks in my training, show up for dinner without my phone, and actually listen when you talk about your day." His voice grew stronger as he spoke, the conviction in his eyes growing brighter. "I'll do whatever it takes to fix this."

You felt a flicker of hope, but it was quickly doused by the memory of his past promises. "Words are easy, Jack," you said, your tone measured. "It's the actions that count."

Jack's expression grew serious, the lines around his eyes deepening as he nodded. "You're right. I know I've said a lot of things I didn't follow through on, but I'm different now." He paused, searching for the right words. "I've missed you. I've missed us. I can't stand the thought of losing you for good."

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. "Jack, I want to believe you," you said, your voice wavering. "But I've been here before. How do I know this isn't just another fleeting moment of clarity before you're off to the next match?"

Jack reached out and took your hand, his grip firm but gentle. "Because I'm going to prove it to you," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "I'm going to show you that you're not just a part of my life, you're the most important part. And if that means taking a step back from tennis, then that's what I'll do."

You searched his eyes, looking for any sign of deceit or doubt. But all you saw was sincerity and pain. "I don't want you to give up your dreams," you whispered. "But I need to know you're willing to make me a part of them."

Jack nodded solemnly. "I understand," he said. "And I'm not asking you to come back right now. I just… I want you to know that I'm willing to make changes. To make us work."

You felt the warmth of his hand, the familiarity of his touch sending a shiver down your spine. You had missed this connection, but the fear of history repeating itself was stronger.

"Jack," you began, your voice shaky, "I want to believe you. I really do. But I've been hurt too many times. I can't just jump back in without knowing it's for real."

Jack's grip on your hand tightened slightly, his thumb stroking the back of your hand in a comforting gesture. "I know," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "And I don't expect you to. I just need you to know that I'm ready to fight for us. To make this right."

You sighed, the weight of your decision pressing down on your chest like a boulder. "Okay," you finally said, your voice barely audible. "Let's take it slow. No promises, just…see where it goes."

Jack's face lit up with hope, a small smile playing on his lips. "I can do that," he said, squeezing your hand. "We'll take it one day at a time."

The days turned into weeks, and Jack kept his promise. He made an effort to be present, to listen, to be there for you without the distraction of his phone or his thoughts of the next match. He started to include you in his training sessions, even asking for your advice on his game. It was a tentative dance, both of you testing the waters, feeling for the old rhythm that had been lost.

You found yourself slowly letting your guard down, the warmth of his attention thawing the icy walls around your heart. But the fear remained, a persistent shadow that followed you, whispering doubt into your ear every time he had to leave for a tournament.

One evening, as you watched him pack his bag, the memories of the past filled the room—his hasty goodbyes, the forgotten anniversaries, the missed phone calls. You took a deep breath, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach. "Jack," you said, your voice wavering, "are you sure this is what you want? That you can handle it?"

Jack looked up from his suitcase, his eyes meeting yours with a fierce determination. "I've never been more sure of anything," he replied, crossing the room to stand in front of you. "I love you, and I'm going to prove it every single day." He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to believe him.

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of improvement. Jack's dedication to the relationship was evident, and his performance on the court reflected the newfound balance in his life. The press took notice, praising his renewed focus and maturity. His wins started piling up, and the whispers of a potential comeback grew louder.

But it wasn't just his game that had changed; it was Jack himself. He had become more thoughtful, more attentive. He'd surprise you with flowers, leave sweet notes around the apartment, and ask about your day with genuine interest. He was the partner you had always wanted him to be, and you felt yourself falling back in love with him.

Yet, the doubt remained, a quiet thief in the night that stole moments of happiness. You would catch yourself waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the day when he'd slip back into his old ways. Each time he picked up his phone to check his schedule, you'd hold your breath, waiting for the apology that usually followed.

But the apologies didn't come. Instead, Jack made plans with you, around you. He talked about the future with a warmth that had been absent for so long, his eyes lighting up when he spoke of trips you could take together, the life you could build outside of tennis. It was as if he had finally realized that there was more to life than the scoreboard.

One rainy afternoon, you found yourself nestled in his arms, watching a movie you'd both seen a hundred times before. His fingers traced idle patterns on your skin, and you felt a sense of peace that had been elusive for months. As the credits rolled, Jack leaned in and kissed you softly, his eyes searching yours for reassurance.

"I'm going to miss you," you whispered, as the reality of his upcoming tournament loomed.

Jack pulled you closer, his arms a warm cocoon. "I'll miss you too," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "But I promise, I'll make it up to you when I get back."

The days leading up to the tournament were filled with sweet gestures and stolen moments of intimacy. Jack took you on surprise dates, showered you with affection, and even cooked for you, a rarity in your usually hectic lives. His dedication to making amends was palpable, and you found yourself feeling hopeful for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

[oswildin]

Debated making this, but oh well, here we are…

I rewatched the Loki series.

Going to add here quickly that I have been a fan of Loki since 2012/2013, and I personally relate to his character for a multitude of reasons.

Now, I enjoy the series, but I wish they made it more character focused than they had. I do feel like they prioritised story in terms of making it fit the next phase over exploring and expanding on Loki’s character to some degree (a lot of it was surface level).

For example, I would’ve loved to have seen:

Exploring Loki’s Jotun heritage, even if it was a variant of him in the void that embraced it, dropped his aesir form, a conversation between Loki and his Jotun variant as they explain why they chose to embrace it, giving a different view to maybe how our Loki sees himself/the Jotuns. If ‘What If’ could have a frost giant Loki variant, why couldn’t the show?

Expanding upon what happened to Loki during that year after his fall from the Bifrost. The reason for this is self explanatory really, it would add more lore/depth to his experiences/actions during the Avengers. Maybe address the trauma he has from it.

Loki fighting with his so-called ‘desire’ for a throne more. By this I mean, I felt he flipped pretty quickly from his plan to overthrow the time keepers to just following along with Sylvie - which is fine, but I kinda thought there would be more push back from him. I get it was a life or death situation and Loki’s whole thing is ‘survival’, but it would’ve added to their dynamic and the fact the writers clearly wanted to push how Sylvie was different to other Loki’s.

Exploring Sylvie’s backstory more. It really did feel like it was an afterthought, which is a shame. I suppose they left it ambiguous for certain reasons, but I think they should’ve had more flashback scenes of what Sylvie could remember. I think it would’ve helped people understand and relate to her more. (I do love her though).

Actually showed Loki’s gender fluidity & shapeshifting ability more. Again, self explanatory really & important to his character, plus the whole implied only ‘woman variant’ thing with Sylvie should’ve not been a thing, like at all.

They should’ve given Loki more time to process everything. This show really should’ve had 8 episodes each season, I get that’s not the writers fault, likely Disney/marvel’s doing. Perhaps then the shift in his character wouldn’t have felt so jarring, especially considering he’s 2012 Loki. I do agree they wrote him as if he was Ragnarok!Loki, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it just felt jarring considering the last we saw of this Loki was Avengers. But then I could also argue that maybe he thought ‘what’s the point of it’ because the TVA know everything about him, but I digress.

Used Sylvie more in S2. It did feel like they didn’t quite know what to do with her, her and Loki clearly just needed to sit and discuss the citadel fight, but the closest thing we got is in EP3 where Sylvie says ‘this is all rather familiar, isn’t it?’, referencing their different/opposing opinions on the TVA/He Who Remains. And also maybe the pie room scene, but it’s very vague/not directly addressed.

Explored the fact that Mobius is not a good guy more. Because, he isn’t. And that’s okay. To me, the whole point of the show is based on Loki’s quote of ‘no one good is ever truly good, and no one bad is ever truly bad’, and whilst they do reference Mobius’ own morally grey actions/traits, they don’t particularly make it clear and most just see him as this ‘happy go lucky old man who likes pie and loves Loki variants’. In fact, I actually really liked the scene where Sylvie confronts him - which is a very unpopular opinion to have it seems, lol.

Delved into the psychology of Loki further than surface level/what we already know about him. Yes, we know he’s the God of Mischief. Yes, we know he isn’t evil. Yes, we know he is redeemable. Yes, we know he’s cunning, manipulative and selfish. We get that he projects this ‘illusion’ of himself, but it was only really mentioned in S1 EP1, maybe slightly EP2, before it’s never really mentioned again. I suppose S2 does this to a degree with the bar scene and EP5 of S1 in the time cell with Sif - also I think they tried to take the narcissist angle from the pov that it’s because of his low self-esteem as to why he needs validation and it’s a defence mechanism, but they didn’t particularly make that clear and made it seem like he just thinks highly of himself.

I know it seems like I have a lot of issues with the show, and I do, but I still enjoyed it. It’s okay to be critical of a piece of media and still enjoy it.

I do prefer S2 to S1, mostly because I prefer the direction they took it in and whilst I, of course, wanted better for Loki, I can’t deny S2 EP6 is a stunning finale. I sobbed so hard during the ending and still feel the grief that I actually lost someone I knew personally. But I also have hope that this means Loki is now a main player in the next phase (am I delusional? Maybe).

I enjoyed the dynamics, the back and forth/chemistry, the story was interesting, the set & costume design, the acting, the directing/colour grading, the music (Natalie Holt, you are genius), the emotions, the fun, the characters…

So this is not a hate post by any means, I will once again state, I enjoyed the show. But, I do have issues with it, and that’s okay too.

Please, dni if you’re just going to be argumentative or confrontational. I also don’t want to hear that just because I enjoyed the show that I’m ‘not a real fan’ lmao. I’m sorry, but I’ve been a Loki stan for over a decade, and I will not have someone tell me I’m not a real fan because of a piece of fictional media. Also, please do not mention anything regarding ships on this post, I do not care for it because it always ends up in arguments and I am a multishipper so I don’t tend to fight for any side. Thank you! :) /gen

[marrissacooper]

@mrhomerxsimpson hope you don't mind me posting your tags but I agree 100%!! I was actually going to write a post very similar to this lol s1-3 cameron would have totally killed a dictator if she thought it was for the greater good, she used to be ruthless. it would've been so interesting if it had happened the way you wrote it and this way both chase and cameron could've gotten a proper, good storyline. I'm so disappointed that she was written out of this :(

[horsefigureoftheday]

Can you explain the "breyer horses are stylised" thing you said a while back? Not because I don't believe you but because I don't know enough about horses to see it (besides the mane and tail)

All artistic representations of a horse will be somewhat stylized. Humans can't help it, they imagine details, even when referencing photos or live animals. A swayed back gets exaggerated, sickle hocks are overlooked, the face becomes more expressive, because to a human who loves a horse, and who expresses their own emotions with their face, the horse's face just feels more expressive.

Take a look at this horse from Peter Paul Rubens' "Wolf and Fox Hunt" (1616) and how it compares to a photo of a horse

The artist was clearly familiar with horses, and most likely referenced off a live horse. And yet its face is much more expressive than a real horse's face - it's neotenous and borderline anthropomorphic, with its huge sorrowful eyes, and the short muzzle that puts the mouth in closer proximity to its eyes (making its expression more readable).

I think a lot of people see what they want to see when they look at a horse, and they reflect that in their art. Is the horse an independent agent or a tool of its rider? Is the horse an unthinking animal or a soulful creature like yourself? Does the artist admire animals, in spite of painting them in terrible war-like scenarios? Does the artist paint animals in these scenarios because he admires them? Is the horse meant to elevate the status of its rider, by being depicted as a soulful creature that nonetheless submits to its rider? (You can probably guess my own opinion from these questions)

Earlier art saw horses almost an afterthought, depicted from memory while their rider was drawn reverently. All those art pieces of emperors and kings on horseback, where the horse looks like a cartoonish oaf, use the horse as a symbol of power, with no regard for the animal itself. Even when the horse is beautifully rendered, it's nothing more than a vehicle to carry its rider. The artist has depicted the horse as expressionless, beastly, and soulless.

Even when you get into portraits of horses in the 17-/1800s, they are still stylized, though now you're just as likely to see a lithe and graceful companion, as you are a muscled working horse or a faithful old friend. Horse breeding really took off around this time, as did theories of animal minds, so adoration of horses-as-individuals became more widespread. Examples are "Lustre" (1762) by George Stubbs, "Mare and Foal in a Stable" (1854) by John Frederick Herring Senior, and "A Grey Horse in a Field" (1873) by Rosa Bonheur.

All this is to say that horses will always be stylized in art. Humans can't not twist the horse the suit their own tastes, and that's fine. I actually think it's kinda beautiful. The way horses are stylized can give you insight into the artist's opinion of horses. An artist with a neotenic, expressive stylization probably has more respect for horses-as-individuals than an artist who depicts them as inexpressive, powerful, willing beasts of burden.

Breyer horses have an airy painterly quality to them. Even the draft horses seem almost weightless. Compare Breyer's "George" with the self-released resin horse "Gustav," both sculpted by Brigitte Eberl.

George has much longer hooves and smoother curves in his legs - you could draw a near perfect curve from his hind knee to his toe -, giving him a flowing appearance with very little weight behind it. Gustav, on the other hand, has sharp edges and corners. He feels heavy. I'm a big fan of wrinkles and muscle on model horses, but the muscles on George seem like he's been through a rock tumbler. They're smooth and soft-looking, except for the extremely deep crevices between them, which are probably there to better catch paint and enhance the shading (an effect that's especially noticeable on George's thigh). Gustav, on the other hand, has very subtle muscling and virtually no wrinkles (he deserves neck wrinkles, give my boy neck wrinkles!!). He looks like a working horse with a solid layer of fat over his muscles. George's stylization is, for lack of a better word, smooth. Flawless. A bit too perfect for my liking. George is like the platonic ideal of a visually appealing draft horse. A horse like him can't exist.

I think resin horses by master craftsmen are the closest we'll get to depicting horses exactly as they are in life. The stylistic choices are extremely subtle, and seem more like a consequence of the medium than a deliberate goal on the artist's part (e.g., you can't make a realistic mane out of resin, so you have to compromise).

I love both the stylistic trappings that humans fall into when depicting horses and the endless quest for the perfect artistic representation of the horse. Both are beautiful. All horse art is beautiful.

(Obligatory disclaimer that I'm not an art historian or anthropologist, I literally studied bugs at university, so if you think I'm talking out of my ass you are MORE than welcome to add to this post!)

[solelifauna]

Yandere Batfam & Neglected Reader Prt.1

When your late mother had a one-night stand with Gotham's richest man, you find yourself at odds and cast aside by your father and his wayward family. Yet, it's only when you find peace that it all comes crumbling down.

TW: Neglect, injury, violence, death

(Y'all, it gets worse in the next post)

To be adopted by Bruce Wayne was akin to a golden ticket; rare but life-changing. You had been one of those (un)lucky souls who just happened to catch the infamous Bruce Wayne's attention, but not how you’d typically expect. You see, you weren't just some random kid, no, you were the byproduct of a one-night stand between your mother and Brucie Wayne. Of course, you obviously didn't know, and your mother was more than content in keeping who your father was a secret. So for the first 11 years of your life, you lived in ignorance of who your father was. Not that it really bothered you; your mother’s love was more than enough, and as long as you had her you knew you’d be fine. 

Then of course, tragedy struck. Your mother was caught in the crossfire between two rival gangs, a stray bullet lodging itself in the side of her head. You don't know how long you spent crying, cradling her dead body, willing her to come back to life. It wasn’t until police and paramedics had to pull you off your mother, that you realized the gravity of your situation. Without your mother and no father, you’d no doubt be sent into one of Gotham City's many orphanages left to be trafficked and killed. Running away seemed like the best option until a positive paternal DNA match came in for one Bruce Wayne. To say you were dumbstruck is an understatement. Bruce Wayne was your father? The man known for adopting children and loving them as his own was your father? You were both relieved and delighted. You didn't know Bruce Wayne personally, but just seeing the way he treated his other children gave you hope, hope that you could heal with this man and finally know your father.

So when child services dropped you at the manor, a small suitcase in tow and a shy, nervous smile on your face only to be met with poorly hidden annoyance and contempt; to say you were heartbroken would be a disservice to yourself. It was easy to discern that your presence was not welcome and considered a hindrance. Bruce spoke to you disconnectedly, offering a quick apology on the loss of your mother before handing you off to the family butler, Alfred. At least Alfred had the decency to apologize on your father’s behalf, taking his time to talk to you and show you around the manor. You liked Alfred, he seemed kind. It wasn't long until you both ran into one of your other siblings, the eldest brother, Richard or Dick Grayson. He seemed the kindest out of the bunch on tv, so you were hopeful he'd have a different reaction compared to your father. 

Disappointment was your friend once more when Dick gave you a strained smile and conversed with you with fake interest. He left as soon as the opportunity arose. Your other siblings were no different; Jason was rarely ever at the manor and when he was, he certainly didn't bother even acknowledging you (not that you minded, he was scary when he was mad). Tim couldn't care less about your presence, finding annoyance when you’d go up to him and try to converse.

Cass or Cassandra talked to you here and there, never unkind, but you knew you were just an afterthought for her; Stephanie on the other hand initially interacted with you, asking you questions and occasionally sitting and talking to you. It was soon that you realized she was just bored and you were the newest “thing” in the manor. Her interest wore off a week later, her interactions with you now short and dry.

The family as a whole just seemed to disregard you and often stilted their conversation around you. You’d notice the dining room would be filled with laughter and loud talking until you'd walk in; silence would overtake the once lively place as everyone switched to hushed conversations. It’s as if everyone but you knew something you didn't, a big inside secret that bonded everyone together. It wasn’t until you accidentally discovered that Bruce Wayne was Batman and that the rest of your siblings had vigilante alter egos that everything made sense. This had to be why everyone left you out! It was because they had a secret identity to protect and you obviously couldn't know!

You thought that once they knew that you were aware of their nightly activities, things would change for the better, that you’d be included and accepted. If anything, your admission was the worst possible thing you could have done. At least before, some of them had pretended to interact or say something to you. But now that you knew their big secret, they no longer had a reason to maintain their forced fronts and pretend to care (even if it was barely caring). They had bigger, better, more important things to worry about than some random girl who popped up and wasn't even a vigilante. 

But ever the idiot, you still tried. You still craved their love and affection, going out of your way to take gymnastics to impress Dick or take coding classes to try and engage with Tim. You even tried talking to Jason about books, something Alfred had mentioned was dear to Jason. You tried sign language with Cass but she was never around long enough for it to matter. None of your attempts were successful. You didn't even bother trying with Bruce, you knew that the man wanted nothing to do with you. 

The straw that broke the camel's back for you was when your half-brother, Damian Wayne was introduced to the manor. You thought that he'd be met with the same coldness as you, and that you’d finally have someone who was in the same boat as you, someone who'd understand. Boy were you wrong. Damian was met with such a warmth it made your skin itch and your eyes teary. You wanted to throw up, this isn't fair, he doesn't even try and he gets their love and attention, yet here you were begging for scraps. Regardless, you thought that at least you could try again with Damian, he was technically blood-related to you after all. Yet when he pulled a knife on you and almost cut your throat, instead leaving a cut on your cheek down to your jaw, you could only stare at him in shock. 

You expected outrage and at least some sort of punishment for Damian, considering he had attacked you unprovoked and that you had no prior martial arts training, you were just a civilian. Dick only pulled you aside after Alfred had patched you up, you’ll never forget the words he said to you.

“(Y/n), what Damian did was a mistake. He’s had a rough childhood with some very bad people and it's not his fault he reacted this way. I know you're hurting, and I promise that this will be the first and last time this ever happens. Please, forgive him.” Dick said softly and mourningly.

You just let out a quiet “okay” not even focusing on Dick’s words, no, your main point of focus was the large, warm hand tenderly cradling your injured cheek. You didn't even realize how touch starved you really were, practically melting into his palm. You almost verbally protested when he retracted his hand as soon as you said “okay”. He was leaving.

“Thanks (Y/n), we really appreciate it. He's a good kid, I promise, he just needs some love and attention is all. I’ll come around to check on you soon, okay?” He said, moving away from you, obviously distracted.

You just “hmmed” in response. You knew he was lying, he would never come see you after this, and you were partly right. He came around the manor all the time now, but never for you, only for your attacker. Damian never did apologize for attacking you by the way. He just moved on, most likely realizing that you weren't a threat and were not worth his energy. 

Your cheek would still forever be scared though, not that anyone cared.

That's okay though, you honestly didn't want to talk to him anyway. The entire “Damian” incident was forgotten about quickly as the family bonded and had movie nights, patrols, and hangouts that you were not invited to. Well technically you were, but you realized that your presence just ruined the overall mood so you just decided that it was better if you just stayed away. It's fine, you did NOT need them. You had other people in your corner that actually cared so you were fine (not really).

Thankfully, you had convinced Bruce (not that he really cared) to let you stay at your old school and not transfer to Gotham Prep. So you got to keep your friends, the only people who understood your plight at the manor, the only people who cared; it was after this that you decided to stop caring as well. You weren't chosen by Bruce Wayne, you were forced upon him. Wayne Manor was not your home, just a stop along the way.

So, you made your peace.

Then, of course things changed, and now the bat family was starting to turn their interests on you. 

Catching attention in Gotham was never a good thing.

[confused-pyramid]

Breaking Point

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: You and Art were hitting partners (and a bit more) in college, so when you run into him a decade later at the U.S. Open, old sparks reignite...

word count: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT, p in v, oral (fem!receiving), slight marking, drinking

a/n: I watched Challengers last night and then wrote this whole thing in one sitting. Nothing in this is really canon other than Art being a major simp lol so no spoilers for the movie! I usually make playlists (or at least find a few songs that get me in the zone) when writing, so I thought I'd start sharing them here too if people are interested!

You should've known he'd be here. You've been following his career for the last decade since you graduated, and ever since he won Wimbledon last year, he's been tennis royalty, but a small part of you still thought you wouldn't run into him here. At the fucking U.S. Open.

Stanford was a lifetime ago, and you haven't kept in touch with anyone from the college team, but there was always something about Art Donaldson that stuck with you. Ten years later, that hasn't changed.

"It's been so long," he calls out when he spots you from across the practice courts. "I didn't think I'd see you."

You didn't either, and you still haven't decided how you feel about it yet, but when he jogs over to your side, you just shrug. "Guess it's your lucky day."

He smiles, and his teeth glimmer in the bright sunlight. "It certainly is."

The loud thwacks of tennis balls hitting rackets echo around you, but you can't seem to focus on anything but the man standing in front of you. He looks good.

He was beautiful in college too, whether he was training across the net or slipping into your bed, but it feels different now, with so much time apart. He looks like a man now.

"Anyway," Art says, jerking you back to reality. "We should get a drink sometime. To catch up."

He adds the last part almost as an afterthought, but it doesn't escape your notice how his eyes have been trailing up and down your body since he walked over.

A drink could mean almost anything with Art Donaldson, but you're too curious to refuse. "Sure. This weekend, after the semi-finals."

He nods, his eyes glinting with amusement, and you grab your bag from the bench beside you before looping the strap over your shoulder.

You walk off the practice courts after one last glance over your shoulder, and you feel his eyes following along until the doors swing shut behind you.

***

He should've expected this. You were a firecracker in college, and you kept him on his toes every single day you were together, so he really should have known what he was getting into when he met you for drinks that weekend.

Instead, he's one too many beers in, and his buzz is only enhancing the glow of your beauty in the hazy bar light. Your dress isn't even that low cut, but something about the shadows glancing over your strong shoulders reminds him of late nights in the Stanford dorms after a hard practice when there was only one thing he wanted more than sleep.

"You played really well this morning," he says genuinely as he sets his beer back onto the table. "After that first set, Mueller didn't stand a chance."

You flash him a dazzling smile as you shrug, resting your chin on your palm. "I had her after the third game, but thanks. It was a quick match."

Art hasn't taken his eyes off of you since you sat down, and while prolonged eye contact usually makes you nervous, you find that you're actually enjoying the attention quite a bit. Attentiveness was never an issue with him, and you would normally give in to your urges, but there's just too much history with him, and you can't afford to lose focus. Not when the title is so close you can taste it.

"I hear the networks are eyeing you for a commentator post," you say, trying to change the subject.

You trace your finger around the rim of your nearly empty margarita, before lifting it to take a final sip, and you don't miss how his throat bobs as you lick the salt off your lips.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbles, clearing his throat. "It was just some chatter, but I'm not looking to retire anytime soon."

You frown. "Is that right?" He's playing better than ever, but he definitely hasn't been himself out on the court in years.

He glances down, clearly trying to avoid the scrutiny, and when his eyes land on your empty glass, he changes the subject again. "You want another drink?"

You shake your head, knowing that another will lead to a less than fun morning, but he isn't done yet.

"You sure?" His eyes find yours again, and this time the eye contact feels primal. "It doesn't have to be here."

Your eyebrows lift and you tilt your head with a knowing smile. "Where were you thinking?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, before his lips curve up into a cheeky grin. "My room's nice."

You saw it coming from a mile away, but it still pulls a laugh out of you. "Oh, I'm sure it is, but this isn't college anymore, Art. You should get some sleep...focus on your match in the morning."

You push your glass forward and stand up, nodding at him as you turn to leave, but then you see him stand too out of the corner of your eye.

"I'll walk you to your car."

He looks at you with a hint of amusement in his expression, and you can't help but want to play along, even though Art Donaldson was nothing but trouble for you.

You don't respond, instead just stepping out from around the table and walking out the front doors of the bar. You don't have to turn back to know he's right behind you, and when you reach your car, parked in the center of the nearly empty parking lot, you spin around.

He doesn't stop walking until he has you practically boxed in by your driver's side door, his face less than a foot from yours as he tucks his hands into his pockets.

He had pushed his sleeves back at some point in the night, from the humid summer heat of the bar, and you can see the veins on his forearms now, under the dim light of the street lamps.

"This is me," you say jokingly, tipping your chin at your car as he looks at you with an expression you can't distinguish. "I'm good from here."

He doesn't move.

It's not that you expected him to give up so easily; you had just forgotten how persistent he could be.

Art's mouth stretches into a slanted smile. "Do you remember the Davis Invitational? Junior year."

Speaking of his persistence...he had been pursuing you for months, not in any tangible way, but you always knew what he was thinking.

After the invitational, where you and Art had been the respective men's and women's champions, you had gone back to his dorm to celebrate. Three hours and just as many vodka shooters later, he had finally gotten you in his bed. Not that you were complaining.

Art knew his way around your body, and even that first night, he had managed to get you off more times than you can remember.

"What about it?" you shoot back, your eyebrows raising at the insinuation.

"Nothing," he says with a shrug, but you don't miss the humor glinting in his eyes. "You just used to be a lot more fun to celebrate with."

"Fuck you," you spit out, shoving his shoulder harder than you mean to. He barely budges, instead grabbing your hand and tugging you a few inches closer, and suddenly a wave of lust washes over you, making your breath hitch.

You press your thighs together under your dress, hoping he can't feel the heat spreading across your skin, but then his smile turns to a smirk and you know you're done for.

"What do you think?" he whispers, leaning in so close that his lips brush over your earlobe. "Want to celebrate?"

Molten lava pools in your gut and you are only peripherally aware of his hand sliding down your hips to the flowy edge of your dress. His fingers glide over your skin as his hand goes under the loose fabric, before rising up to grab your ass, drawing your hips flush with his.

Your arousal is already starting to soak through your panties, but the feeling of his hard bulge pressed up against you sends you flying back to reality.

You lift your hands to his chest and push him back so that he's a few steps away from you. It's not far enough, but at least you can't feel him from there. "I'm not fucking you, Art."

He shrugs, his smirk only slightly shaken. "Who said anything about fucking? I just wanted to talk."

You huff out a laugh. "You're funny. Besides, I'm too tired for this. I need to rest up before my match."

"What about tomorrow night then?" His lip is still curved up in a smirk, but there's an earnestness in his gaze that surprises you.

"What makes you think you'll still be here tomorrow?"

His mouth spreads into a wide smile. "I always win."

You snort. "Fine. Win your match and we can talk."

You don't miss the grin on his face as you climb into your car and leave.

***

You win your next match in straight sets again, so by the time you're out of the locker room, Art's match is still in play. Driven by a mixture of curiosity and intrigue, you head over to his court and find a seat halfway up the stands.

He has won two of three sets, and he's leading the fourth, so with the prospect of the match ending soon, you use the time to observe him from a different angle.

His form is much better than it was in college, and you've seen him play countless times on TV, but you haven't really let yourself see how good he looks out there. The sinewy muscles rippling in his arms as he lifts them to serve. The rugged sturdiness of his legs as he races back and forth across the court.

You wish you could be down there with him, running your hands over the smooth lines of his abdomen, tasting the drops of sweat as they roll down his body-

The crowd erupts in cheers, and you are thrust back into reality as Art throws his arms into the air with a loud whoop. The scoreboard confirms his victory, and you clap along with the audience as he shakes his opponent's hand and heads over to his chair.

People around you stand up to leave, but you stay in your seat, watching as he grabs his bag and stuffs his rackets inside. When he wipes a towel over his face, his head turns up and his eyes immediately go to you, like he knew you were here the whole time.

Your stomach does an involuntary flip and he flashes his eyebrows at you as you bit the inside of your lip, trying to hold back a smile.

When he ducks back down to grab his things, you stand up quickly to avoid letting him see your blush and follow the rest of the crowd off of the stands.

***

You hear it late that night. Three little raps on your hotel room door, just before midnight.

You're in the finals, and you don't have any friends here to celebrate with, so you were sipping a beer and watching old match recordings when you heard the knock.

There's no one else who would come to see you this late, so you're not surprised when you open the door to find Art, dressed in a tee shirt and comfy-looking pajama pants.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, even though you already know the answer.

Art just looks at you, his pupils already massive. "You said if I win, we could talk." He shrugs. "I won."

"Okay," you concede, opening the door wider to let him in. "Just talking then."

He nods, before following you inside and shutting the door.

"You want anything to drink?" you ask as he trails behind you.

He shakes his head. "I'm good."

You grab your beer bottle from the side table and sit down on the floor, crossing your legs beneath you.

Art sits across from you, his feet in front of him and his elbows on his knees. You were assigned to a modestly sized room, but for someone as tall as him, the space must feel cramped.

"How did the match feel?" you ask, taking a swig of beer.

He thinks for a moment. "It was close at first, but once I shook my legs out, it became a breeze."

"Your legs were never the problem," you say, leveling him with a serious look. "It was always your attitude. Or your confidence."

He frowns, his eyebrows scrunching slightly. "I'm plenty confident."

"You are now," you tell him as you swirl the bottle around in your hand. "You won Wimbledon, you have a reason to be confident."

That makes him smile. "So you're saying my legs are fine."

"Yeah," you say before you can process what you're saying. "You looked good out there."

His smile turns to a smirk so fast it nearly gives you whiplash. "You think I look good?"

You let out an exasperated scoff. "At tennis."

His grin doesn't falter so you roll your eyes at him before lifting the bottle to your lips to take another swig. When you tilt the bottle back down to swallow, his hand reaches forward to take it from you. Your grip on the beer doesn't loosen, so the motion sends you pitching forward.

Your mouth parts with a small yelp as his arm wraps around you, tugging you closer, and before you can process what's happening, his lips are on yours.

If you let yourself think too hard, you would realize that there is way too much shared history and way too much baggage here for this to be a good idea...so that's why you don't.

Instead, you let him pull your body flush against his and when his tongue slides over the seam of your lips, you grant him access immediately. Your shirts come off in quick succession and you gasp as his hands run up and down your body, his strong, calloused fingers grasping at every inch of purchase they can find. Yours reach up to tangle in his messy hair, and when his lips move down your neck, your grip tightens, making him moan quietly against your skin.

Something about being on the floor takes you back to your college days, when you'd both be so worked up after practice that you couldn't even make it to the bed, but that feels too real right now.

"Art," you whisper as he runs his lips and teeth over your neck, before replacing it with his tongue to soothe the quickly blossoming marks. "Art, the bed. Now."

It takes him a second to process your words, but when he does, he loops an arm around your waist and lifts you up and onto the bed in one motion, before pushing you back onto the covers.

By the time your head hits the bed, he's already pulling your shorts and panties down, exposing you to the cool air. His lips follow the path of his hands as they trace up your legs, making you squirm under the hot touch of his rough fingers. He presses wet kisses to the insides of your thighs before spreading them apart and dropping to his knees on the floor in front of you.

"So wet for me," he whispers, almost to himself, before he dives in, his mouth making lewd noises as he licks a thick stripe up your core. "You taste so good."

He lifts your legs over his shoulders to give himself some leverage as he makes a mess between your thighs, licking and sucking your clit into his mouth before fucking you with his tongue.

His grip on your thighs is the only thing keeping you pinned to the bed as you writhe beneath him, trying to not squeeze your legs together from the heat spreading up your core.

His mouth feels amazing and it takes only minutes before you're already nearing the edge. You don't want to come until he is inside of you, though, so you yank his hair, pulling him up and off of you.

He looks up at you through his lashes, and he looks ethereal with his disheveled hair and his chin wet with your slick.

You, on the other hand, look like heaven itself with your eyes half-hooded from pleasure, and he can't help the grin that crosses his face as he licks his lips and climbs over you onto the bed. He lets you taste yourself as he kisses you again, and he lets out a low groan when you bite his lip just hard enough to sting.

"Fuck me," you gasp, your voice too breathy to be actually authoritative. "Fuck me the way I like."

Art grins at your desperate tone and the wild lust in your eyes, committing this image to memory for a later time when you're much further away.

He kicks his pants off as he lifts you both further up the bed, and after covering himself with a condom from his back pocket, he lines himself up and slowly pushes forward.

He gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before slowly pulling out nearly all the way and then thrusting in again.

The slight pain turns to pleasure almost immediately, but he keeps his pace steady so as not to hurt you. You need more right now, so you wrap your legs around him for leverage and flip him over so that you're straddling him.

He groans as his head hits the pillow, and when he tries to sit up, you press your hands to his chest, pushing him down as you ride him. This position gives you a lot more control, and you use it to your advantage as you bounce yourself on his cock, feeling the way he fills you up so fully from this higher angle.

His fingers dig into your hips as he helps lift you up and down, and his eyes are practically feral as he watches the spot where his cock disappears inside of you.

He's the perfect size to fill you up completely, and with each swivel of your hips, you get closer and closer to your climax, which is approaching so fast you can taste it.

You cry out when he hits exactly the right spot deep inside of you, and his eyes fly to yours as your movements start to stutter from your impending release.

Needing to see the look on your face when you come, he pushes your lower back forward so you fall against his chest, before lifting himself up to meet you halfway. With one arm locked around you, he brings his other hand down between the two of you to rub quick circles over your clit. The new angle lets him thrust up into you, and the increased pace of his movements mixed with the speed of his fingers sends you flying over the edge.

Your mouth falls open with a loud cry, and you squeeze him so tightly he's practically seeing stars. You look so beautiful when you come, like a goddess sent down here just for him, and when your eyes meet his, he finds his own climax.

His body jerks forward with the force of his release, and you let him thrust a few more times as he finally finishes inside of you.

After pulling out, he tugs you down to lay next to him, and at first you let him, but the emotions warring inside of you don't stay quiet for long.

You know that whatever this was isn't going to go anywhere. You didn't work in college, and you won't work now, and you don't want anyone to get hurt again, so you have to make a choice. Now.

"I need to get some rest," you say quietly, a tiny part of you hoping he doesn't hear you. "Before the next match."

"Yeah," he sighs after a beat. "Me too."

You let him hold you for a moment longer, before he unwraps himself from your body and sits up, tugging his shirt and pants back on. You tug the sheet back and wrap it around your torso as he stands up and walks to the door.

You're not sure what you're expecting as he goes to leave, but what you get is a silent nod as the door swings shut behind him.

[moonlight-prose]

HEART MADE OF GLASS

a/n: this is totally not to make myself feel better. totally not self indulgent cause i couldn't finish cooking my dinner last night. that gif is also self indulgent. but also hopefully a distraction from how angsty this kind of is. divider as always by the lovely @saradika-graphics.

summary: you couldn't control when they could come. the waves of nothingness - of battling with your body and mind in the hopes it would cause a shift. you wanted to control it. he simply wanted to help.

word count: 1.1k

pairing: logan howlett x reader

warnings: angst, fluff, disassociating, depression isn't outright stated but that's what it is, meat eating (sorry i'm an iron anemic bitch), logan's love language being acts of service.

The fire alarm never went off when you were in the kitchen. So he felt his heart jump at the sound of it blaring through the small apartment. Even down the hall and in the bathroom he smelled the bitter smoke as it rose from the pan you were currently staring at. A blank expression on your face and hand gripping the handle.

He meant to grab his flannel and join you for dinner. What he didn't expect was the emptiness of a silent kitchen not filled with your usual music. Your soft hums as you try to keep in tune with the song.

Logan's favorite pastime was standing in the doorway watching you cook whatever creation came to mind. Whether it tasted good or positively vile, he'd eat it one way or another. He'd swallow happily with a grin simply to see that smile bloom across your face. A look he did everything possible to keep right where it was meant to be.

"Bub?"

You startled, flinching at the sound of the alarm as you shoved the pan away from the burner. "Shit. Sorry."

A frown etched onto his face at your quick apology—your eyes never quite meeting him. "Everythin' okay?"

"Yeah," you said, lying right through your teeth. "I just got distracted."

Logan could hear the bullshit louder than the alarm. He knew something was wrong, because he'd seen it before. The silence that filled a once loud household. How you slowed down during the day, unable to finish simple tasks without pushing yourself over the edge. He watched you dwindle down to the barest bones your body had to offer and yet you never asked him for help.

You never explained why it occurred.

This wasn't in part because you didn't want to. You did. You simply held no real reason for why your body—your mind—chose to betray you at the oddest of times. At first you figured it was the lack of sleep. The restlessness that ate away at your body each night—keeping you up and active until finally you wore yourself out.

But this wasn't that.

This came from deep inside your chest, lingering beneath the surface—waiting for something good to happen before it struck with a vengeance. This protruded out of your very nightmares.

"Need some help?" He knew the answer before it came. No.

What could he possibly do that you hadn't tried a million times over? There was no easy fix for something this brutal. Silently, you begged him to leave the kitchen and find something else to occupy his time. He stubbornly stood behind you, watching over your shoulder as you dumped the now burned pan in the sink. What might have been a delicious steak now looked like a charred brick.

The sight of it still smoking only seemed to dampen your mood further.

You fought to keep yourself there, in the moment. But the dazed expression from earlier began to slowly trail its way back up your face. Until you could do nothing but stare at the mess you made, exhaustion slicing down to your bones.

His looming presence became an afterthought to all that filtered through your head. All the brittle and vile thoughts you tried to keep at bay. Some days they managed to weasel their way past your infinite walls. Some days...they found joy in tearing you up inside little by little.

Voicing it aloud though would never be an option to the havoc you tried to tame.

"C'mon," he muttered, his hands pulling at your hips to move you. "Out of the kitchen."

"I can finish–"

His glare was devastating.

Most of the time you'd ask him to tell you what he was thinking. Tonight you understood his demand. Get out of the kitchen before you hurt yourself. Let him do what you often did for everyone else.

Give him the chance to put you first.

He points to the chair originally pulled out for him. "Sit down."

But unlike other people he encountered, you were far more stubborn. "I don't–"

"Sit on the chair bub. Or I'll tie you to it." The grin he gives you is filled with sarcasm, but you can see the truth shining in his eyes. He wouldn't hesitate to follow through on a promise like that. He wouldn't even blink. "Your choice."

There was no argument left to throw at him, because his attention was elsewhere. So you sat. You allowed yourself to rest as he stumbled his way through the kitchen. Logan couldn't really cook. He picked up what he could through the life he lived, but nothing came out exactly perfect. That wasn't what warmed your heart at the sight of him standing there intent on delivering a meal worth eating.

He didn't shy away when you tried to push. When the horror that you needed someone to help was no longer a fact you could ignore. No matter how hard you shoved and bit and did what you could to scare him off. Logan pushed back. He quelled your bite with a stature of resolute stoicism.

With an exhale, he flipped the burner off and slid whatever he'd made onto a clean plate. Watching him move felt as if you were being placed in a trance. You almost told him that once in your first week of dating. Something told you he already knew by the way your eyes tracked him from the kitchen to the table.

"Steak," he said, sitting with a grunt.

A quick glance told you one thing. Logan didn't know shit about cooking steak.

You grinned nonetheless.

"There's..." Red spilled down the side, pooling on the plate as steam hit your face. "How long did you cook it?"

He shrugged, slicing it with ease and plopping a piece into his mouth. "Tastes fine to me."

"I'm sure it does."

"Watch it bub," he muttered mid chew, his lips curled into a smirk.

Making a show of zipping your lips shut, you took the piece he offered you. And as he did each time before, you ate it with a grin simply to watch his smirk turn into a smile. There may have been no salt, no extra flavor, and strangely a charred sensation with each bite. But you could taste the love spreading across your tongue with ease.

"Delicious," you garbled in the hopes he'd understand how much you loved him.

He snorted, shoving the plate to the center of the table. His thumb swiped at the juice that leaked from the corner of your mouth, causing your heart to jump erratically in your chest. Even on your bad days he managed to flip the switch in your mind with simple touches and soft looks.

"'M gonna order a pizza."

Leaning into his hand, you pressed a kiss to his wrist. "Thank you."

[hobies-princealbert]

pornstar! hobie brown x pornstar! reader (part 2) | (nsfw)

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

☆ pornstar! hobie brown who since you last collabarted with helped your page grow practically overnight. you started to gain more followers, and collaborations, even from creators that turned you down before. it was all so exciting, it was everything you could have ever wanted. well almost...

☆ pornstar! hobie brown that even though it the reason you're now so popular, you still felt something missing. you tried not to thing about that empty feeling you had after each shoot, cause maybe next time would be better. but it was never none of your collaborators made your head spin the way hobie did. you were lucky if you actually orgasmed, most of the time you faked most of them.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown who practically lived in your mind 24/7. you wanted to hit him up again. you really did....but you didn't want to seem desperate or like you were just using him.

☆ luckily, you didn't need to sit on the though for too long, since, just like last time, pornstar! hobie brown hit you up. that same rush of excitement you felt the last time came rushing back. you didn't even wait a second to respond. crazy how a simply text from him got you more worked up that anyone has in the past couple months.

☆ and before you knew it, pornstar! hobie brown was sending you the details of your next meet up. he made sure to book the same hotel as last time, and even the same room. even though the room provided an air of familiarity, the conversation wasn't. you two didn't really talk much after y'alls first get together. but the sexual tension was definitely there.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown who was kind of taken aback with how shy you still were. but he could tell by the way you leaned into him and looked in his eyes when he spoke, that you weren't scared. just shy. he couldn't help but smile when you nervously tried to go over what was to happen. honestlyhe could care less about the run over, thruth be told he was just as eager as you to start fucking each other numb.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown told you just like last time to guide him where you wanted him. and to his surprise you hopped off his lap. he was almost worried he did something wrong, but once you fell to your knees he knew where this was going.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown who grew the biggest shit eating grin on his face when he saw how willing you were to take the reigns on this time. last time you couldn't even look him in the eye, but now you were lacking long stripes along his shaft. when your tongue felt strained you took to lightly sucking on his tip for a bit. once you were brave enough, you took his shaft till it touch the back of your throat. it was a tough fit, but listening to hobie's groans and moans made the sensation of drool dripped down to you chin an afterthought. "god darlin', i know you missed me but fuckin' hell. don't make me come yet you know i gotta work on you first. come 'ere. "

☆ pornstar! hobie brown was kinda surprised at how he still had to ease his length into you. last time since he didn't know if your cunt could take the stretch, but now he has to be extra careful with you this time. you were bucking your hips into him you, and whining for him to hurry, and he didn't even have the tip in yet. he had to use his body weight to hold you in place cause even when he was obviously trying to go slow, you didn't want slow.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown who realized that you were desperate as hell. i mean look at you. your just mindlessly forcing your hips back to meet his. you don't care if you broke the rhythm. you couldn't stand that empty feeling whenever he pulled out even a little. "shit luv you're gonna hurt yourself. slow down fo' me won't you? i know you missed me, you don't gotta tell me that. but i don't want you to hurt yourself, ok?"

☆ pornstar! hobie brown doesn't know how long it's been since you've been this worked up. even when you collaborated with other creators, none of them felt the same. hobie was the only one that knew how to dig into your guts just the way you liked it. you knew he didn't want you to hurt yourself but god can'the just forget all that. "luv come on listen to me. calm down just a bit. sh shhh I know. it's ok baby, she's still a perfect fit don't worry. just make her relax fo' me."

☆ pornstar! hobie brown who ate you out from the back till you legs gave out. he insisted on cleaning you up. worse part was he didn't even wait till your orgasm subsided. once he felt you were close, he'd pull out, and before you knew it his tongue was forcing its way into you. even if you shook and cried from overstimulation, he'd just follow you anywhere your hips jerked.

☆ pornstar! hobie brown that made sure to get a good shot of when you finally squirted for him. he had your back flush against his chest. the only things you would hear were the muffled sounds of his voice, and the wet sound of his hand colliding with your cunt over and over again. yep, he was slapping it. his palm was so big it hit all of it each time. "com' on let it out luv. dont hold it in, make a mess. promise I'll clean you up. ooohh that's it good, good, good, just breathe baby."

☆ pornstar! hobie brown who would like last time, opened your legs to the camera. and as if to show he has successfully fucked you dumb, he gave you one last slap. this time he eased his fingers in, which he had no problem doin. slid them out, and grinned at the thick, translucent sheen that stuck to them. he wanted them to see just how much you came. "com' on let 'em see how fucked out she is. shhh baby lemme in. fuckin hell look at this. you're just perfect as always.

[zephyrchama]

(A bit of OM! Mammon comforting MC. TW: Lots of crying? Depressive episode? No specific cause is mentioned, the reader is free to use their own scenario, but anyone who is uncomfortable with scenes of crying and being really upset might not like this one.)

The loud rustling of a plastic bag falling to the floor, its contents shifting noisily as they dropped, drew your attention. Mammon stood there dumbfounded.

He knew you were probably upset that he ate your ramen. He expected some harsh words, maybe a light berating and a slap on the wrist. That’s why he preemptively went and bought replacements. The spicy kind that he liked, some fancy new steak flavor that seemed cool, and a bunch of the tried and true classics. That way you’d have nothing to complain about.

He expected a cold shoulder. Playful teasing. A punishment, like having to eat one bowl with ten ultra spicy flavor packets. He never expected to find you curled up in tears. Eyes red and swollen. Your face looked pale with visible streaks trailing from your eyes and nose. Your expression remained a quivering frown when you weakly looked up, and it didn’t change as you buried it back into your knees.

How long had you been at this? he wondered. Was all this over a cheap pack of noodles?

Deep down somewhere, Mammon knew this wasn’t about the ramen. But he didn’t know what this was about, and it scared him.

You needed a tissue, or a glass of water, or a big hug. Mammon had no idea which to get first. He hadn’t even shrugged off his outdoor jacket yet. It slid down his shoulder as he scampered towards the kitchen for a glass, then stopped. He couldn’t leave you alone like this. His hands rooted around in his pockets which held only receipts and some loose change. No tissues or anything suitable for nose-blowing.

Up close, your shoulders shook. Your back heaved with every fresh sob. It tore his heart to little pieces. Your sleeves and the front of your top were soaking wet, no doubt from attempts to curb the crying. Mammon had a difficult time approaching you, unsure what to do or if he could even take being rejected when you obviously needed him.

Overthinking things was not his strong suit. Mammon didn't like the feeling of being stuck, of not having a plan. He was the kind of man with a goal in mind who always gets results. The goal right now was to see you smile, to eat some ramen and joke around. Most importantly, it was to get your mind off of whatever was currently happening. He wasn't going to change that by standing around like a fool.

"Hey." This wasn't his usual boisterous voice. It was a hushed tone filled with concern. You hardly acknowledged him, you had enough going on inside your head already and anything outside just felt like an afterthought. Mammon lowered himself next to you and fidgeted awkwardly with his jacket zipper. "What can I do?"

You weren't in a state to respond, that much was clear. Your answer was to shudder and hug your legs tight against your face.

Your knees were as soaked as your top. Seeing that was Mammon's last straw. He didn't want to be rough, but he was a man of action. He tried to coil an arm around your shaking shoulders, resolution only growing stronger when it caused you to cry harder.

"Knock that off, c'mere." Tough words never sounded gentler. You had no energy to move, but luckily, Mammon had plenty to spare as he brought you in to lean against his side and draped the edge of his jacket over you. You blindly cried against the first surface you could press your face against - his shirt. It smelled of deodorant.

"Don't forget, you're my responsibility, aight? When stuff like this happens, ya gotta come straight to me."

The silence wasn't as awful with Mammon around. It didn't feel suffocating. It took time, but the heartache began to fade. Your sobs became more infrequent. Mammon patiently waited the entire time, occasionally tugging you closer. Occasionally murmuring things like, "you're gonna have to use me as a tissue. I don't have any." Or, "just say the word, I'm gonna beat that sadness into a pulp. Gonna show it I'm the boss around here."

He may not be most eloquent of speakers, but he's got the right spirit.

Even after calming down, Mammon didn't budge and you remained locked against his side. Perhaps you still didn't have the strength to move yet, but you could manage to whisper out a grateful "thanks." A word that finally eased the pain tugging at Mammon's conscience.

He ruffled your hair and leaned down, placing his head against the top of yours. "I always tell ya, I'm the best. Call for me if this happens, ok?"

[queenshelby]

Siblings (Part One)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Half!Sister

Warning: Incest

It was around 10'clock at night when you heard a quiet knock on the door.  You couldn't help but feel a little surprised—and a bit nervous. You had never had a visitor this late before as usually your siblings were out, getting themselves into trouble, and your Aunt Polly, who had taken it upon herself to look after everyone, was in bed.

Your sister Ada, with whom you shared a room, had sneaked out earlier to see her boyfriend Freddy, so it was just you that night, alone in your small room, lying on your single bed, wearing a nightgown and reading a book. 

"Who is it?" you called out, your heart skipping a beat.

"It's Thomas," came the reply. His voice was quiet and calm. 

You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should let him in that late at night. He had just come back from the war a few weeks ago and his demure had changed towards you. It was almost like he had become obsessed with you, wanting to keep you company more often than you were used to. 

Thomas was gone for five years and came back more handsome than ever.  He had a rugged jawline, and deep-set blue eyes. He wasn't tall, but well-built with a perfect gentleman's body.

The war had hardened him, made him stronger, but also wiser. He had seen the worst of humanity, and you could tell that it had affected him deeply. It was understandable; he had been through hell and back.

"May I come in?" Thomas eventually asked, his voice still composed.

Without saying a word, you stood up and covered yourself with a robe , before opening the door slowly.

The light from the hallway spilled into the room, illuminating Thomas's figure. He looked a bit tired, but his eyes were still bright and clear.

"Of course," you said finally, as you walked back to your bed and folded your book closed. 

"I have heard that there was trouble today, at the docks," Thomas  said as he sat down on the edge of your bed. He looked tired, but fatigue failed to sap the confidence and dominance from his demeanor.

You sighed and nodded. "Ada told me not to go there, but curiosity got the better of me Tommy," you admitted whereas, the truth was, that just recently you began to involve yourself with Isiah, another Peaky Blinder and your new-found love had gotten you into trouble. 

"Curiosity, eh?" Thomas chuckled, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Isiah wouldn't have anything to do with this curiosity now, would he?" he then asked, his eyes locked on yours.

You looked away, feeling a blush creeping up your cheeks. "He never meant for me to get involved, Tommy. It just kind of happened," you replied quietly, seeing how Isiah took risks and those risks involved you. 

"Listen Y/N, you are a fucking Shelby," Thomas said, his voice stern but not unkind. "And you need to be careful about who you associate with."

"But Isiah is your friend, is he not?" you asked, slightly confused with Thomas's sudden change of tone.

"Isiah works for me Love. That doesn't make him a friend," Tommy replied curtly, his gaze still fixed on you. "Despite, even if he was my friend, I wouldn't allow him to be involved with my fucking sister,"  Tommy added, the veneer of calmness cracking a bit.

You sat on the edge of the bed, feeling a knot forming in your stomach. The way things were going, it seemed as though you had made a mistake. With the tension in the room growing thicker by the second, you felt compelled to speak.

"Honestly, I don't even know why I got myself mixed up with him, Tommy," you admitted, shame coloring your voice. "I suppose I was bored," you added as an afterthought.

Thomas looked at you, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed your face. "You're better than that, Love," he finally said, his voice steady and firm. "And if boredom is what bothers you, then I am sure we can make arrangements for you to work at the betting house," he then told you a lot more gently than before, placing some stray hair behind your ear. 

"Aunt Pol won't allow it," you  said quietly, not because you didn't want to work there, but because you believed that your aunt would not approve of such an idea.

"It is not up to Pol," Thomas said shortly, his fingertips  tracing the curve of your cheek gently. "But out of curtesy, I will discuss it with her, alright?" he added after a short pause.

Before you could respond, Thomas's hand dropped from your face, and he stood up, his presence in the small room suddenly overwhelming.

"But Y/N, if you are going to continue seeing Isiah...," he began to say and you quickly interrupted him. 

"Not after today," you replied firmly. "Not after what happened at the docks. I promise," you added, reassuring your brother.

Thomas looked at you, relief visible in his eyes. "Good. I'll hold you to that Y/N," he said before leaning down to give you a peck on your forehead.

You blushed slightly, shocked by this sudden display of affection from your half-brother. But before you could react, Thomas walked out of your room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and, when you settled back on to your bed, you couldn't help but wonder what just happened. Thomas and you have always had a close relationship since him and Arthur had assumed responsibility for you after your father got arrested by the police, but you have never witnessed such a display of emotion from him before.

As you lay there in the dark, the silence was broken by the moonlight filtering through the blinds. The light cast a soothing glow on the room and made the floral quilt on the twin bed look more inviting. Your mind was abuzz with thoughts, each one trying to get a different message across. You tried to silence them and focus on the recent events.

This whole situation with Thomas, your curiosity, the sudden shift in your relationship - you knew that it was not something to take lightly. It felt different, and you could not ignore the strange tension that lingered between the two of you.

You sighed deeply and turned to face the window. It was then that you noticed the stars twinkling in the night sky ever so slightly. They were there, silent and unassuming, much like Thomas. You couldn't help but wonder what was going on in his mind.

Thomas had always been a mystery to you, even before he left for France, but now it felt like there was a whole other person behind the blue eyes that you had grown up with.

Days had passed and you indeed started working at the gambling den , which was located in the heart of Small Heath. It was a bustling place, and it was chaotic during peak hours, but you found joy in the chaos. Surprisingly, Aunt Polly did not seem to mind much; she knew that this was one of the ways to keep you out of trouble.

While you were working there, your brother Thomas kept a close eye on you and as different men attempted to flirt with you, they quickly learned that you were untouchable, a notion further solidified by Thomas’s warning glares.

On two occasions, he even threatened gamblers with a gun after you were propositioned for a date, and it was clear to you that he wasn’t playing around. Thomas Shelby never made idle threats, after all.

"You do realise that most of these men are harmless, Tommy,"  you said to Thomas one evening, after you had closed the betting shop for the night. The sky was a deep indigo and the stars were shining brightly.

Thomas looked at you, his eyes sharp and piercing. "That may be true, but you are my sister and they need to show you some fucking respect,"  he retorted, his voice steadier than before.

"But Tommy," you began, still unsure of what to make of this sudden outburst. "I am capable of handling my own affairs. I can fend them off," you assured your brother who appeared somewhat overprotective of you.

"I am sure you are," Thomas agreed, a hint of amusement in his voice. "But what kind of employer would I be if I did not at least protect my employees from unwanted advances, eh?" he asked, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards in a half-smile.

"A pretty shite one I suppose," you admitted, returning his half-smile with a lopsided grin as he locked the door.

"Exactly," he concurred, shaking his head as you stepped onto the sidewalk, right by your brother's side. "Now let me walk you home. It's late," Thomas said as he always did when you worked in his betting house until after dawn. 

As Thomas and you walked side by side, the silence between you was comfortable, but there was still something that kept niggling the back of your mind. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but it seemed like Thomas was hiding something from you.

Nonetheless, as you walked to the house you shared with Polly, Tommy and the others, you couldn't help but steal glances at him, trying to gauge what it was that was causing this strange behavior lately.

It was like he took a liking in you that almost felt, more than brotherly, but you decided not to focus on the matter and instead enjoyed the warmth of his company while it lasted.

Days passed, and your routine at the gambling den turned into sort of a normality, despite the occasional tensions between patrons and your brother that threatened to boil over.

On evening, at your house when you and Tommy were on your own, you ought to address it, his overprotectiveness and  the strange tension that kept building between you.

But, Tommy simply brushed it off and told you that he was simply concerned for your safety.

"But I am safe here Tommy, with you and the others," you reminded him, your tone gentle yet firm. "And at the gambling house, even if some of the customers are inappropriate, it is a safe place because no one would dare to fuck with you, Arthur or John and  I think you know that," you said, unable to mask the frustration that crept into your voice.

Tommy looked down at you, his gaze intense but soft. He took a deep breath before speaking, as if choosing his words carefully.

"Y/N, I know that you can look after yourself but, what I have learned over the years, is that no one is safe. Not here, not anywhere," Thomas said, his voice still firm but softer than before.

You stared into Thomas's eyes, feeling a strange mix of emotions coursing through your veins. Awe, admiration, and... something more. Something you couldn't quite put your finger on yet.

"The war changed you, you know?"  you said the words before you could stop yourself. 

Thomas sighed and looked at you, his expression filled with a mix of sadness and guilt. "Yes, I know," he admitted quietly. "I can't help it, Y/N. I've seen and done things that most people couldn't even imagine." 

You nodded, understanding dawning on you.

"No, you are right Tommy. I can't imagine," you said softly, caressing the scar on his cheek, causing Tommy to lean in closer, his eyes locked on yours. 

You felt your heart race as you looked into Thomas's eyes. There was something about him that made you feel safe, yet also intensely aware of your feelings for him. You had never felt this way about anyone before.

"But you know what's amusing though?" you murmured, breaking the silence that had enveloped the room as Thomas leaned over some more, his fingers lightly traced your jawline, you couldn't help but play along. "You are so overprotective towards me when it comes to potential suitors and there is almost no reason for you to be that way, because I never even kissed a boy before, so it just seems so absurd to me," you continued, allowing yourself to drop your guard, just a little.

"I find that hard to believe, Y/N," Thomas murmured, the pad of his thumb brushing the corner of your lips before slowly moving to trace the length of your jawbone.

Your breath hitched in your chest, hearing his low voice uttering your real name; you always felt an odd sense of familiarity from him, especially when he chose to use your given name, just for a brief moment. It almost felt like the two of you were not step-siblings. 

"No, it's true. I never kissed a boy before, Tommy," you confessed, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You didn't know what had come over you, but suddenly, you couldn't help but feel drawn to your half-brother. "What is it like?" you

asked, your lips barely moving as Thomas continued to trace a path along your jawline.

"What's what like?" Thomas asked, his voice low and husky, as he leaned in even closer to you.

"Kissing," you clarified, a slight blush creeping up your cheeks as you admitted this.

Thomas seemed taken aback by the question, his gaze lingering briefly on your lips before meeting your eyes again.

"I guess it depends on who you are kissing," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Sometimes, it's just a kiss and it feels like nothing because it means nothing. But other times, it's more than that. It can be a way to express your feelings for someone. To show them how much you care about them," Thomas explained, his gaze still locked on yours.

"Do you think you could show me?" you whispered, surprising yourself with your own boldness.

Thomas's eyes narrowed as he looked at you, taking in your flushed cheeks and the way your breathing had quickened.

"Seeing that you are my sister, that would be inappropriate, don't you think?"  Thomas said, a subtle hint of amusement in his voice. 

"It's just a kiss, Tommy," you replied, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. "And no one needs to know," you continued, your heart pounding in your chest as you confessed this vulnerable part of yourself to your brother.

Thomas looked at you, his eyes searching yours as he processed your words. You could see the wheels turning in his head, and for a moment, you wondered if he was going to tell you no . But then something shifted in his gaze, a heat that made your heart race.

"Alright. Fuck it," Thomas muttered, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

You gasped slightly, surprised by how sudden the kiss was and how soft and gentle his lips were.

Your  hands reached up to grip his arms, feeling the firm muscles beneath your fingertips as you leaned into the kiss. Thomas's other hand reached up to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss.

Not knowing what to do, you followed his lead and when he parted his lips, you did the same before tentatively touching your tongue to his, experimenting with the new sensation. 

Your brother's lips were warm and as the kiss deepened, you felt a fire ignite within you, spreading from your core to every inch of your body. Your heart was racing as Thomas's hand dropped down from your hair, tracing a path around your neck as he deepened the kiss once more before, suddenly,  he pulled away.

You stared at Thomas, your lips still tingling from the kiss. You could see a storm of emotions raging within his eyes, but you couldn't quite decipher what he was feeling. Was it guilt? Shock? Excitement? Pleasure?

"I am sorry Love, but I have business to attend to," he told you with a horse  voice, his breathing heavy and uneven from the kiss.

You nodded, trying to catch your breath as well. You could feel a blush spreading across your cheeks as you moved away from him, giving him some much-needed space. Thomas looked at you, his eyes heated with desire, before turning away and leaving the room without another word.

Even after he had left. a jolt of pleasurable heat still lingered on your lips where Thomas’s mouth had just been, you couldn’t believe what had just happened. Your stepbrother, fucking Thomas, he had just kissed you and you didn’t know if you should feel guilty about it or if you should be elated.

“You’re an idiot,” you muttered to yourself as you ran your fingers through your hair, still feeling dazed. Your mind was racing, replaying the image of Thomas kissing you, over and over again.

Your lips were still tingling from the contact, but the room felt cold and empty once he left, leaving you alone with your tumultuous thoughts.

You couldn't believe what had just happened. Thomas had kissed you. He fucking kissed you and you were the one that had asked him to do it. 

Later that night, at around eleven o'clock and well after you had already gone to bed, there was a quiet

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[sp0o0kylights]

Eyes wide, body frigid in terror, Eddie felt the sheer horror of the current situation sank in. 

He was at Gen Con. 

In their hotel.

With zero vacant rooms and one minor, Henderson created, screw up.

The room only had one bed in it. 

“It’s fine, we can share.” Steve said, brushing past.

Like this was not the life ending, earth shattering, soul rendering issue that it was.

“I can sleep on the floor.” Eddie croaked trying to remember how a normal person acted instead of someone whose stomach had just fallen out of their ass. 

“Nah, I did this all the time with the basketball team.” Steve said as Eddie actively regretted every single decision that had led to this point in his life.

“Hell this is even a king sized bed. We have plenty of space!” 

Steve did a goofy little spin jump, landing butt first on the bed and bouncing on it with glee. 

“Space, sure.” Eddie echoed. 

Hands shaking, eyes determinedly focused on anything but the ex-jock, Eddie found himself chanting a mantra over and over in his head.

One that would valiantly get him through the next weekend, God and D20's willing.

'I'm fine, this is fine, everything's fine...'

“I don’t have cooties, if that's what you're worried about.”” Steve waggled his eyebrows. "Here,  I’ll even let you have one of my pillows.”  

Said pillow was flung through the air, to smack Eddie dead in the face. 

'Fuck it." Eddie thought wildly. "I am NOT fine!'

And after Eddie got his hands on him, Dustin Henderson wouldn't be either.

xXx

“I am going to kill you.” Eddie snarled, the very second he could get Dustin alone.

“No you won’t, you love me too much.” Henderson dismissed, a smug little smirk in place. 

The absolute brat. 

“I do not, and if I did, I would take it back after this.” Eddie glanced around once again, beyond paranoid about discussing this in the open parking lot of a shitty hotel, but knowing he needed to get this under control, now. 

“What were you thinking!?” 

“That I read a really interesting zine about this exact scenario, mostly.” Dustin shrugged. “Worked out great for them, I thought I’d try it for you!” 

Eddie groaned, head flying back as he fisted both hands in his hair.

(if only to prevent himself from wrapping both hands around Dustin’s stupid throat.) 

“What did I tell you? This isn’t something you fuck with man!” 

“I know, but as I told you, Steve is perfect!” Dustin protested, and didn’t even have the decency to flinch when Eddie lost control and grabbed him by the collar. 

“Perfect!?” He sputtered, actually sputtered, shaking the fist that held Dustin's shirt captive. “Perfect!?” 

“Trust me on this--you have a crush on him, he desperately needs someone in his life--seriously, Eddie, it’s sad how he acts when he’s not dating--and you guys get along great now! What’s the problem!?”

“He’s straight!” Eddie shrieked, startling several onlookers. 

“Laced!” He added immediately after, in panicked afterthought. “He’s so straight laced we could never get him to agree to that plan!” 

Dustin leveled an unimpressed look at him. 

“Dude, really?”

“We are still in Indiana, Henderson.” Eddie said, then got close enough that he felt comfortable hissing the next part through clenched teeth.

“They don’t exactly care for the queers here, even at a place like this.” 

“Are you sure? Because the Con’s welcome packet has a few different panels that--”

Eddie scrubbed a hand over his face, letting go of his idiot, freshman friend's shirt to grab at his hair again. 

“Henderson, for once,” He pleaded, and maybe it was the sheer desperation in his tone or how upset he looked but either way Dustin seemed to finally realize how serious he was.

“just once, I need you to listen to me. You cannot let Steve know I’m gay. This is something that has to stay between us, especially now I’m sharing a bed with him.” 

Which Dustin knew, because Dustin was the one who’d called and changed the room. 

“But Steve’s--”

“Most likely bisexual, I heard you the first several times you said it, but you can’t just--assume that about someone!” Eddie was well and good on a rant now, two seconds away from pacing about. “Even if you’ve been to a salon with them!” 

He pointed firmly at Dustin’s stupid face (and the kid's equally stupid mouth) before he could once again insist Steve was into men purely based on how anal he was about his hair.

“Steve might be cool with--other people,” Eddie was unsure of who knew what about Robin, and was not about to hand Dustin another secret given how he was acting about this one, “but that does not mean he will be cool with me--or you, pimping him out, to me!” 

“I’m not pimping him out!” Offended, Dustin patted at his shirt where Eddie had previously been holding it. “Look I’m sorry, but--”

Eddie groaned, loud and dramatic. 

“But,” Dustin doubled down, “You trusted me with the whole, you know.” He waved his hands in some sort of vague, unreadable gesture. “Can’t you trust me about this?”

“I didn’t trust you with that, you barged into my room and then dug around my closet insisting your character notes got mixed in with mine when I was hi-sleeping!--and then read something personal!” 

The snort he got in return let him know Dustin was well aware he’d been high as hell, but that was neither here nor there, given what had happened after. 

When Dustin, rifling through Eddie’s closet, came across one of Eddie’s private notebooks. 

The ones that contained equally private stories, penned by Eddie's hand.

One of which might have had characters--who did not sound like Steve, thank you,-- and definitely not paired with a character based on Eddie himself. 

(“So Sir Sylvan Harrachtáin and Edwin Morningson are random names you pulled out of your ass, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“Sir Sylvan with his great hair and--what’s this? A horse named…Beamer?”

“Henderson so help me--” ) 

It may have led to the two of them growing closer instead of Eddie getting chased out of town with pitchforks, but that hadn’t stopped the sheer panic it had caused when he realized just what it was Dustin was reading. 

“Potato, tomato.” The little shit dismissed, and Eddie felt the urge to strangle him return in full force. “Look I get it--I promised I wouldn’t tell and I keep my promises. But since there aren’t any other rooms in our inn…”

Eddie looked at the sky, because if he saw the little dipshit wiggle his eyebrows in relation to himself and Steve Harrington, his new friend, who baked cookies with Jeff and once helped Grant jump his car, Eddie was going to lose his mind.

Loudly, and with much fanfare. 

“You owe me. Big time.” He declared to the clouds. 

He pretended not to hear the sigh that got him, either. 

“If you so say. Now can we go to the convention?" A whine crept into Henderson's voice. "Steve’s going to think we’re fighting.”

"Fine.” Eddie finally lowered his head to glare Dustin dead in the eyes.

“But to make my ire clear, Henderson? That magic sword your dwarf just acquired is gone. Disappeared. Vanished like a puff of smoke."

He made a ‘proof’ noise, hands spreading out as he did it. 

Dustin’s jaw dropped.

“What!? Eddie--” 

“Nope.

“Edd-iieeeee--”

“I’m not listening.” He plunged both fingers in his ears, walking determinedly towards one of the other three hotel rooms Hellfire had crammed themselves in. 

Wished desperately that he could manage to swap beds with Jeff, or Grant, or someone without making Steve feel like shit--which it would, because Eddie knew things like that about Steve now.

Behind him Dustin rampaged, which at least, made Eddie a little happier.

xXx

“We can switch rooms.” 

“What?” Eddie asked, startled out of his present thoughts (and the giant pile of D&D related papers spread in a circle around him.)

He turned to look up at Steve, who was hovering awkwardly behind him.

“You’ve been weird ever since you realized we’re sharing a bed. If it’s making you that uncomfortable we can just switch.” He shrugged, like saying that didn’t hurt him, even as the kicked puppy look holding court on his face very much screamed ‘emotional damage.’

"I have not!” Eddie twisted himself around immediately. "I am perfectly fine, thank you!"

Steve frowned down at him. 

“Eddie, this is the longest conversation I’ve had with you since we got here." Steve deadpanned. "I’d blame that on the whole, you know, nerd herd gathering, but it’s pretty clear that’s not it. I watched you literally turn around and walk the other way when you spotted me earlier." 

Shit.

"It's kinda obvious you're avoiding me." 

Shit, shit, shit!

“I'm not, promise!" Eddie lied. "I’m just--distracted. There’s just so much happening and it’s--a lot.”

He said it like the con was overwhelming, and not chaos he was positively thriving in. 

Steve searched his face.

“Alright," He said doubtfully, "but I mean it. Say the word and we can switch. I'm sure Jeff'll let me share a blanket or something."

Which was the last thing anybody needed, on grounds that Jeff would try and fix things.

(Jeff, bless him, had never been good at fixing things.)

Drumming up every acting skill he possessed, Eddie flashed two thumbs up in response, painting a fat grin on his face.

“We're all good Stevie. Besides, I’m going to be up late at so many panels, you won’t even notice me coming back. You're practically gonna have the room to yourself!"

Because that was exactly what he was planning on doing, the second he realized the convention itself could provide a nice, neat little way out in the form of two different late night panels.

Who needed sleep anyway? Not him!

"Okay." Steve said, somewhat mollified.

Crisis averted, Eddie dove back into his plans, distracting himself as best he could while trying to ignore that Steve had dropped onto the bed.

(One of those plans might have involved revenge on Henderson, and that one he gave special attention to.)

xXx

There were no late nigh panels.

“Not until tomorrow, my friend!” The jovial guy dressed in what Eddie was pretty sure was supposed to be a wizard costume told him. “We had a few but the folks running them got stuck in traffic, so we had to cancel."

He beamed, like he hadn’t just disintegrated Eddie's one and only escape plan.

"Besides, if you go to sleep now you can catch some of the early morning panels!”

As if he hadn't planned on rolling into them anyway, lack of sleep be damned.

“Can we go back now?” Gareth grumped to his right, the only person who’d agreed to stay out all night with him (and who was not a 14 year old who’d been overruled by Harrington.) 

"We could go find a room party?" Eddie hedged instead, as they made their retreat.

"Dude."

"Fine," He muttered, defeated. "We can go back."

To Steve. 

And the single bed. 

In his head, he plotted out Henderson's death.

Maybe he'd use fire.

Or sticks, or even a fricken--toy horse, or something...

xXx

He'd done it.

Changed into the oversized shirt he called sleep clothes, and crawled into bed like a completely normal, totally straight human being.

Had even done a remarkable job of laying perfectly still. Exactly how a normal, not panicking person slept!

'I'm fine, this is fine, everything's fine...'

Steve was laying next to him.

He had to of course, that's how a bed worked, and yet somehow, Eddie couldn't get past it.

Or the fact that the dick wasn't wearing a shirt to bed.

His thoughts chased each other in nervous little circles, anxiety gnawing on his gut like a favored bone as Eddie did his best not to move one single inch.

Pity that the thing about attending a large convention, was the sheer amount of walking, talking, and expending general energy one had to do.

Entirely against his will, Eddie fell asleep. 

He had been planning on laying awake in frigid terror all night, to prevent any possible way Steve might clock him, but his body had other plans.

Some of which involved sleeping like Eddie normally slept--arms hugging a pillow, head buried in it's soft, comfortable, kinda ticklish surface.

He rubbed his nose further into it as the tickling sensation increased, pulling him away from the sleep he hadn't realized he'd fallen into.

Grumbling, Eddie went to adjust his stupid pillow when he had the weirdest realization that it too, was moving.

Pillows, his sleep addled brain informed him, did not move.

Steve would, though.

"Fuck!" He screeched, flying up into a sitting position as he registered that he'd gone full octopus--cuddling Steve with all four limbs.

Steve flew awake, his own body flying up into a sitting position.

His mouth started moving a mile a minute, and it took Eddie a second to parse that Steve was still partially asleep as he let out a string of absolute nonsense about code reds and being upside down.

"Whoa!" Eddie said when the guy nearly fell out of bed. "Shit Steve, it's just me!"

"Eddie?" Steve asked, halfway out of bed. "Are we--is everything okay?"

"Yeah I--yeah." He grimaced, grabbing a strand of his hair and pulling it protectively over his face. "I think I woke you up."

"S'okay." Steve ran a hand through his hair, before slowly sinking back into the bed, alarm fading. "Are you okay? Nightmare?"

Eddie blew out a breath.

"Probably. It's fine, don't worry about it."

Steve eyed him doubtfully.

"If you're sure..."

Eddie gave him a wobbly smile back, patting the space on the bed next to him as he made himself lay back down. "Promise. I'm--I'm sorry, I guess maybe I should have slept elsewhere..."

That did it.

"You're good. Startled me is all." Steve let out a sort of forced chuckle before laying back down. "I overreacted."

Eddie hummed, not trusting himself to say anything as the two of them settled back down.

It did not escape him that unlike most people who'd been rudely woken up in the middle of the night, Steve didn't try to keep any distance between them.

No, he had to scoot closer, like he needed to know his friend was near. 

Eddie squeezed his eyes closed and prayed for death.

"I get nightmares too, sometimes." Steve admitted in the following quiet and oh, God, no, Eddie could not do an emotional late night talk right now.

"They definitely suck." He said flatly, before rolling over to face the opposing wall. "Night Stevie."

Steve snorted, but it sounded amused instead of hurt.

Eddie sighed quietly in relief as he too, turned away to face the wall.

He could do this. He just had to make sure he didn't screw up and fall asleep again, and everything would be...

Perfectly...

...fine.

xXx

"--ddie, you're on my arm man."

"Wha?"

"My arm." That was Steve, Eddie's brain dutifully identified as it crawled it's way to consciousness. Steve who was his friend now, and was also talking very close to his ear. 

"Also my leg. And torso."

"You have a nice torso." Eddie mumbled thoughtlessly. 

Why was Steve here? They were doing something that should have been stressing him out, was stressing him out, but it was hard to think when he was this tired.

"Thanks," Amusement threaded it's way through Steve's voice, "but I'm going numb here. You have a hell of a grip."

Eddie frowned, the words sludging through the fog, until finally, the dots connected.

Eyes opening wide, he carefully took stock of the position he once again found himself in--wrapped around Steve like the guy was the only life raft left.

Oh my God.

"Shit sorry--" Steve oof'ed as Eddie smacked an elbow into his ribs as he let the poor man go, madly scrambling to get as far away as possible.

He tried to apologize for that, but was too busy fighting the bedsheets to get anything out. 

"Eds." Steve laughed, grabbing him as Eddie tangled them both up. "Calm down."

"I'm calm!" He protested, far too loudly, limbs flying every which way as he tried in vein to get the fuck away.

Stupid sheets-!

"Eddie." Two heavy hands came down on his shoulders, Steve having managed to get himself into a sitting position. "It's alright."

"It's not Steve." Eddie spat, and then panicked harder because fuck, that is not what he should have said.

"Hey, easy." Steve was talking quieter now, hands squeezing gently, like Eddie was some kind of spooked wild animal and fuck, he was really losing it here.

"I mean it. We're at the convention, remember? We're sharing a hotel room and you have a bunch of dorks and dumbass things to do in like, two hours."

Eddie violently shrugged him off.

"I know that!"

Steve, somehow, did not take offense to the very aggressive tone that had been snarled in. 

"Then you know you can breath for a moment. Seriously, you look like you're gonna pass out."

Which was probably true, given the rapid, rabbiting beat of his heart.

"Is this what you were worried about?" Steve added, as Eddie finally freed himself from the damn sheets. "That you have nightmares?"

“It's not nightmares.” Eddie spat instantly, chest heaving.

His head hurt, his eyes hurt, and he was exhausted to the point where he wanted to cry about it.

God did being gay suck.

“Then--what? That you cuddle in your sleep?” Steve was teasing, Eddie knew Steve was teasing but that was too on the nose. “Dude trust me, Tommy was an octopus growing up. I don’t care.”

“No it’s not, that, exactly--”

"So what is it then, exactly?"

Too. Fucking. Close.

"Drop it Steve--"

Emotions rose like a tidal wave, all encompassing. Overwhelming. 

"I would if you weren't clearly upset about something--" 

He lost control. 

“I’m gay!” Eddie yelled.

Then he clapped a hand over his mouth, like he hadn’t just panicked himself out of the closet. 

It died. 

The crazy, huge emotions. The way he'd been fighting himself, tooth and nail, the panicked thoughts that were zooming around his brain.

“I didn’t say that.” He said, eyes wide.

Steve blinked.

“I mean, you kinda did.”

Eddie shook his head.

“Nope. No. I said, I said--”

“That you’re gay.” Steve finished, then frowned when Eddie flinched. “Dude it’s okay--”

“Is it, Steve!?” He interrupted, hand finally falling from his mouth. “Is it? Because if you ask half the people at this convention--who are my kind of people and understand I’m not shilling souls to satan--if it's okay!? They'd say no!"

Tears pressed against his eyes, a reaction he hated that he had.

"They'd say no, and then they'd try to kick my ass for sleeping in the same bed as them!" 

A tear escaped and he swiped angrily at it. 

“I’m okay with it.” Steve said quietly, which had the effect of making Eddie shut up. “And those people suck.” 

The laugh that escaped Eddie's mouth was brittle.

Bitter.

He turned his head away from Steve, angry that he’d gone and admitted the very thing he knew better than ever speaking aloud. 

“Yeah well, I didn't think you would be, given how you used to accuse anyone and everyone of being a queer loser right along with the rest of the basketball team.”

Which wasn't fair, exactly--Eddie knew Steve had changed. Had seen it in the way he and Robin talked quietly about Will, when they thought no one could overhear.

(A habit Eddie would break them of, if he and Steve made it out of here as friends, still.) 

He wasn't Will though, and Will wasn't the one presently sharing a bed with Steve.

“That’s because we were all making out with each other at away games.” It was said so fucking quick Eddie briefly thought he hallucinated it.

Lucky for him, Steve wasn't done. 

“Robin thinks that whole thing was some kind of group denial. Like if we made enough of a thing out of it we could all pretend we didn’t have our hands down each others pants all the time. I am not exactly on speaking terms with that group anymore.”

He shrugged like that his fall from grace hadn’t been the center of the rumor mill for most of his senior year, and came with a lot of shit talking at his expense.

“But I can still prove it to you, if you’d like.” 

Shock--and six million thoughts-- hit Eddie like a mack truck. 

‘You’re lying/No way/that makes so much fucking sense/how did that even start/was it every game/whose pants exactly did you have your hands down and how do you feel about my pants--’ 

“How?” Eddie got out, sounding only slightly strangled. 

“Well--you’re here. I’m here."

And then Steve gave him a smile Eddie had only ever seen aimed at women, a slow lazy curl of the mouth that implied a hell of a lot.

"I'm fine with making the math work."

Maybe he was dreaming this.

(Eddie pinched himself and found that somehow, he was not.)

“I realize I don’t look like it, but I don't the whole casual kissing thing." Eddie blurted out. "Hasn't exactly gone well for me."

He regretted it the second it left his mouth. 

That was sharing too much of himself. The vulnerable gooey part who'd kissed a few girls (and even, once, a guy) and found he couldn't for the life of him make such things casual.

Plus Steve was kind of a good friend now, and Eddie had a crush so big that doing this and then never doing it again would kill him, and--

(and, and, and…) 

“It can mean something if you’d like.”

What.

“What?” 

Eddie stared at him.

Steve stared back. 

“Steve Harrington." He said flatly. "Are you trying to get in my pants?”

‘I will rip them off right here and now if you are,’ He thought wildly, like he hadn’t just tried to die on some “it has to be meaningful” hill. 

(Sue him, he was a horny teenager who'd just learned sex might be on the table, he could change his mind.

It totally wouldn’t tear his heart apart after either!

Nope, not his, made of steel Eddie’s heart was--) 

Steve raised his hands in the “don’t shoot” pose, looking all too pleased with himself. 

“Hey, you can’t fault a guy for trying. But,” and here he dropped the flirty little grin, which Eddie was only now realizing he was utilizing, “I meant it. I'm not opposed to trying this out, with you."

Trying? What the hell did that mean!?

Steve hadn't stopped talking.

"I won’t take it anywhere if you don’t want to though, don't worry.

Then he tilted his head and added; “I can also leave if that made you uncomfortable. Robin keeps telling me I can’t flirt with men like I flirt with women and--” 

“No.” Eddie’s mouth betrayed him yet again, terrified Steve might talk himself into leaving. “No--you offered!”

Steve raised an eyebrow.

“I did.”

“To have--” God Eddie couldn’t even say the words, “with me?” 

Somehow that last part came out as a question, and Eddie planned immediately to throw himself out of a window.

The grin was coming back. “Yes. With you.” 

“And it would…mean something?”

That was pushing it, Eddie knew that was pushing it, but it was like he couldn't stop himself.

This whole thing was now a runaway train and he'd ride it to it's inevitable wreck.

“For me it would.” Steve said, raising himself up on his knees. 

He inched forward, planting his hands down on the bed, face awfully close to Eddie’s own. 

“I don't like doing things anymore without it meaning something. To be honest, I don’t think I ever did. Besides, Robin's right."

"About?" Eddie asked, goin cross-eyed as Steve leaned ever so much closer.

"That when I say I admire you, or I miss you, or that I want to see you, I'm not exactly meaning it in a friend way."

Oh.

"Oh." Eddie said dumbly.

Steve closed the distance, mouth first. 

They were kissing.

Stars exploded in the sky. Fireworks went off outside, birds sang, people cheered--

(Eddie bit Steve’s lip, twice, in some sort of overexcited maneuver before he was gently guided into Steve’s lap, the ex-jock twisting to lay back down and bringing Eddie with him. 

It was smoothly done, a slow maneuver, and Eddie had to go and ruin that too by ripping his mouth off Steve’s to press sloppy kisses all down his neck. 

Thankfully Steve did not shove him off for that, or the hickie he definitely left on that stupid, tan neck, instead arranging them once again until things, finally, started to be less frantic. 

It was the best night of Eddie's life.)

xXx 

“So what does mean something involve, in this little situation we have here?” Eddie said some odd amount of time later, cuddled happily against a now naked Harrington. 

“I’m not supposed to say boyfriends.” Steve mumbled into Eddie’s shoulder. “Scares people off."

Apparently he was the type to need naps immediately after having the naked kind of fun. 

“Who the fuck told you that?” Eddie reached down, lacing their hands together tightly.

Steve kissed his shoulder. 

“We haven’t even gone on a proper date yet.” He said, rather than responding directly.

“We can’t, Steve, or did you forget where we live?”

Another kiss, this one turning into a grin when it made Eddie shudder. 

“Oh we absolutely can. I’ll prove it to you. Next Friday?” 

It took him a moment--a stupidly long moment, for someone who prided himself as a wordsmith--but Eddie got it. 

A smile exploded over his face. 

“Next Friday." He said. "It’s a date.” 

(A very long time later, Henderson would find out about all this and gloat about this so hard he’d fall off the steps of Eddie’s trailer. 

Eddie would only let him live on grounds that Steve was also there at the time, and was worried about Dustin’s ankle.

This did not stop Eddie from standing above the little shit, announcing karma would one day get him soon, and if not, than Max Mayfield, who absolutely could be bribed into committing murder.)

This was the bonus for Door Prize/Sugar, Spice (and Everything Dicey) which can be read in it's entirely here: LINK

[tasteleeknow]

LIVING IN THE RUINS

minho x fem!reader. 2k words. minors dni. best friends to lovers. soft!minho. angst. fluff. jealousy. emotional hurt/comfort. smut with feelings, in a tent.

“Excuse me?”

You blink at the stranger in front of you. She seems to materialise before your eyes. You’d zoned out again and missed the attention your best friend had clearly been receiving from strangers in the crowded room. “I was wondering if I could get your number?” she asks, eyes fixed on Minho’s. She blinks quickly a few times, her long dark lashes fluttering much like your heart in your chest. 

She hasn’t looked at you once despite your close proximity. You’re so close to the object of her attention in fact, your thigh brushes against Minho’s jeans under the table. 

He shifts beside you, sitting up straighter in the booth. “Oh,” he says, clearly taken off guard as well. “Thank you. I mean that’s — I don’t—” 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asks with a small tilt of her head. 

“No,” Minho answers quickly, incapable of lying. His discomfort radiates off him. You’d spent years learning his emotional tells. “I mean—” 

“He’s not into women,” you interrupt, finally drawing her attention to you. She blinks before her eyes drop down to your chest and back to your eyes, like she’s completely taken aback by your presence. It’s impossible, you know that logically. Still, she puts on a good performance. “Sorry,” you add. 

Her lips curve into an unconvincing smile. “No worries,” she says. “The hot ones never are.” 

The whole exchange is as short as it is ordinary. How many tipsy girls work up the courage to ask the pretty man across the bar for his number? You would bet money on it happening multiple times over somewhere across the planet at any given moment. It’s normal. Mundane. Still, you know it’ll chip a little more of your carefully built wall away. A chisel to stone, slow and steady. The only problem is that it’s been chipped at for years. You can feel the fragility of it these days, each chisel etch feels alot like when you’re down to the end of a game of jenga. 

Any move now will cause it to crash and fall. 

She hadn’t considered for a moment you might have been together — not when she’d spotted him across the room, clearly with you — and not when she’d gotten close and blatantly ignored your comfortable proximity to each other. Her question about his relationship status had been an afterthought, a possibility she hadn’t considered until faced with a response other than ‘yes’. She’d been expecting a yes.

The thought that he might be with you, might be attracted to you, was unconsidered. You wonder if she’d discussed it with her friends. ‘No,’ they might have said. ‘There’s no way he’s with her.’

Minho is quiet as the petite brunette turns on her heels and disappears back into the mass of people. His red ears give his embarrassment away. 

You nudge his shoulder, rocking him out of his trance. “Hey,” you prod. “Alright?” 

The smile he offers you is a little lopsided — very Minho. “Always,” he says. 

—

Your annual camping trip is just like the year before. Your small group of friends sets up camp in your usual spot. Everyone climbs into their usual tents. Everyone assumes you and Minho will be sharing, as always. 

You’re not sure why it hurts so much. They assume that nothing would ever happen between you. None of the other girls share a tent with a guy they aren’t dating. You’re the exception. Because Minho would never want you. 

He notices your low mood later that night. The group separates in the dark to play flashlight tag and as you find yourself wandering a secluded patch of the campsite, you know he knows. His attention is on you instead of where he’s walking. You almost scream when he falls into apparent nothingness. 

“I’m fine,” he quickly reassures you, pulling himself up from the ground. “Just dropped my glasses.” 

“God, you scared me.” 

It takes you both at least ten minutes to find them, relying purely on touch alone. It's too dark to see much at all without a light and using your phones would give your position away. 

You’re grateful for the darkness when you reach up and place his frames gently on his face. It hides the heat in your cheeks when you brush chocolate brown hair behind his ears, ensuring you’ve placed them properly. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, close enough that his breath warms your lips. 

You’re also grateful just to be near him, you realise. Just to know him. You love him. 

You love him. 

It’s an earth shattering realisation to have while playing flashlight tag in the middle of nowhere. You need to escape. You can’t. You’re sharing a tent with him. 

The situation isn’t helped when later in the night one of the girls with big bright eyes and a gentle smile makes a very clear move on him. You were used to it. People loved him. 

You loved him. 

It’s a stupid thing to cause the wall to finally crumble. It’s humiliating really. But when he laughs at something she whispers in his ear: it happens. 

It falls. 

You’re pathetic without it. 

All you can do is hide from him, escape to the tent and pretend to be so tired you’ve fallen asleep before he can investigate. It’s not something you do. Not with Minho. He knows you so well hiding from him is just as stupid as it is pathetic. He’ll know. 

Still, you can pretend. He won’t know as long as you’re unconscious. You can put it off until morning. 

It takes a long time for him to fall asleep. You lie there staring at the canvas of the tent for what feels like hours, the sounds of him tossing and turning continuing for so long you almost give up. 

But then he’s still. His breathing seems to even out. He’s asleep. 

That’s when you let yourself cry. Quietly at first; silent aching sobs. 

What a time for the wall to crumble. You wonder if you have the energy to rebuild. You’ll have to find it. The alternative is letting Minho go entirely, removing him from your life and letting the ruins erode away over a long, long time. 

Not an option. 

“Hey,” Minho’s soft voice calls. Shit. You wipe clumsily at your eyes and sodden cheeks. “Hey, what’s going on? What happened?” he questions as his palm rests gently against your shoulder. 

You should face him. You can’t hide. You know it. 

“No-thing,” you whimper, breath catching between each syllable. It’s that awful breathless kind of sobbing, the type that leaves you unable to inhale fully, let alone speak. 

He rolls you over onto your back. He isn’t rough — but it’s with enough strength you’re completely unable to resist him. 

“What is it?” he says again, tone much more forceful now. He isn’t letting it go. He looks down at you with wide eyes, like he’d never been asleep at all. 

You shake your head. 

His gentle thumbs move to your cheeks to attempt to wipe away the mess you’d left behind. He rests on one arm, leaning over you so he can give each cheek the same treatment. It’s a curious instinct, to wipe away someone's tears — like it has any effect on the person’s pain at all. It’s the best we can often do, you suppose. 

“Just focus on breathing,” he says. “Just breathe.” His hand stays against your cheek, fingers resting on your neck by your ear — featherlight. 

Breathing is easy, in theory. Breathing. Breathing. Breathing. His lips part to join you, guide you. His lips are still a little red from his bedtime routine, his tinted vaseline usually lasting him the entire night. 

“That’s it,” he soothes when you finally manage a few steady breaths in a row. “That’s good. You’re okay.” 

They’re simple words of comfort. The kind of thing anyone would say to a person in distress, but they settle something in your chest. You were okay. He was yours in a way that was more than nothing. He cared in a way that felt so genuine it was hard to be dissatisfied with the nature of it at all. 

“Did something happen today?” he asks, still leaning over you. It’s a vulnerable position to be in. It mirrors how you know this conversation will go. Your wall is a crumbled mess. You have no defences against him. 

“Not really.” 

His eyebrows pull together. 

“Nothing worth this,” you clarify. 

“Tell me.” 

“It’s not… It’s embarrassing.” 

His lips curve in a tiny lopsided smile, just a hint of amusement. “Friends are for sharing embarrassing things with. And I’m your friend,” he says. “Aren’t I?” 

You blink quickly a few times, desperate to keep your tears at bay. Then you nod weakly. 

“Why do you look so miserable about it?” he says, tone light and teasing. 

Your lips wobble a little as you struggle with the words attempting to burst forth. They pound and burn and demand to be set free. You lose the battle. “I love you.” 

He blinks, eyes flicking across your face. 

The gates are open now. You’re turned loose. “I love you so much,” you sob. “It hurts. It hurts everyday and it just keeps getting worse and I can’t—” 

His lips cut you off, a warm, heart-stopping, and very much welcome interruption. He’s kissing you. He’s—

“Stop,” he mumbles against your wet, salty lips. “Stop hurting. Please.” His next kiss is unbearably soft, a brush against your upper lip. “Please,” he whispers. 

You nod dumbly.

He rewards you with a collection of gentle kisses across your cheeks, replacing the remnants of your tears with the sticky wetness of his moisturised lips. You imagine the slight red marks he must leave behind. 

He settles over you properly at some point. You’re too distracted by the path of his lips to notice exactly when. But then his arms are by your head, caging you under him in a way that makes you hope for the universe to halt all progression forward. This was enough; everything. 

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips finally. “I’m… sorry for letting you think I don’t. I’m a coward.” 

“No,” you chastise quickly as you tangle your fingers in his hair. “Don’t say shit like that.” 

“I—” 

“It hurts me… and you told me to stop hurting.” 

His head drops to your neck… then, with a soft press of his lips to your skin, “Then I’ll never do it again.” 

Every move he makes is gentle when the slow, indulgent kisses turn into exploring hands and whispered pleas for more. Each of his whisper-soft words of affection sweeps away a crumbled section of your wall, clearing the space to build something entirely new. He’s warm, so warm as his bare torso rests on yours — as he finally presses inside you and sucks a mark into your neck to join the rest he’s left. “Doesn’t hurt?” he asks, stilling as he fills you completely. 

“No,” you gasp. “No, you’re… it’s—” His lips take the words from your mouth, a little messier than he’s been before. When his hips roll into yours you can’t help grasping at him like he might suddenly get up and leave — fingers tangling in his hair desperately.

“I got you,” he mumbles against your lips, heavy breaths mingling with your own. “I got you…” 

When he eventually spills inside you, flooding you with more of his warmth, you’re crying again. But this time it doesn’t hurt; this time it’s a release. The tears that he kisses from your face afterwards — they wash away the rest of the rubble.

[domesticandlovingmonsters]

Eldridge/Tentacle Monster x F!Reader

Words: 2.9k Themes: Nsfw, tentacles, fictional oviposition Notes: Hi all! I'm still very sick, hence why this story is a little shorter than the others. Hopefully it's still a good morsel of ovi themes. I may circle around to it again and adjust it, or write a whole other story based on ovi to make up for the lack of words. Feedback as always is welcome!!

This was definitely the spot from your dream. 

The cave opening matched your memories perfectly. To the circular entrance, draped in vines that dripped with clear water from the waterfall nearby, to the moss that covered every inch of this place. 

The hike had been tortuous, to say the least. But seeing this cave made it all worthwhile. You weren’t going mad, after all. 

You didn’t understand how you knew this was here. Perhaps some past hike through these old woods came to the surface of your subconscious and reminded you of this splendid place.  It was beautiful. How could you have forgotten it? Your steps into the cave felt familiar and comfortable. Your shoes didn’t slip on the uneven path nor did the low hanging ceiling bump against your head as you ventured deeper. 

You could hear the gentle trickling of water somewhere further. A soft echo that seemed to call you forward and away from the light of the beautiful day outside.  You recalled there was more light inside. 

Not that you could remember how there was more light. But the memory of being able to see clearly down here was vivid enough to ease any worries of darkness.  Deeper and deeper you went.  The afterthought of getting lost down here vanished when you found a path, winding down the treacherous tumbling's of rocks and subterranean flora. You found a stream bounding down a slope of dark rocks. Your fingers idly trailed along the smooth cut stone that acted as stairs towards the heart of this cave.  You didn’t slip.  Nor did you feel any nervousness when a sound rose up through the music of running water. A whispering murmur that called to you. 

Almost there. It seemed to say.

A friend. 

Your friend. The one from your dreams that spoke of itself and the sweet home it made for itself down here.  Surrounded by soft moss and cool water. Comforted by the comes and goings of eager hikers that walked these trails. Listening to the world's gossip and excitement while happily residing in the depths of the mountain. Unseen and undisturbed.

But it called to you nonetheless. And you came just as you promised; a friend coming to visit a friend.  The stream brought you to a wide cavern. With a pool in the center and many small plants circling the crystalline water. The lights you were promised dangled from thin, pale vines that spiderwebbed along the sloped ceiling. Giving the wide cave a gentle blue glow as you stepped towards the water. 

You felt parched after such a hike. And the water felt cool against your fingers as you kneeled down beside it and cupped some into your mouth. 

It tasted sweet. Almost like honey. And you sighed as the discomfort of your hike started to ease.  The murmuring echoed through the cave and you sat yourself on a nearby rock. Slipping off your backpack as you looked out over the pool. 

Many eyes watched you, pale and completely pupilless, locked on you from a mound of mossy bark and fern covered limbs. 

It was huge. The presence you have felt for so many nights felt like a crushing weight now as your friend started to move closer. The water barely stirred as thick appendages rose from the calm waters and slithered along the ground towards you. 

You smiled. Reaching for a tentacle as it coiled along your calf and bathed your warm skin with its cool flesh.  You wore shorts today, given the heat of the day, and your friend seemed thrilled with how much skin was currently exposed.  The murmuring turned to whispers. Eager with anticipation. You felt a wordless voice enter your mind as the creature walked out of the pool on thick, muscular legs. They looked like trunks of trees, covered in more of that mossy bark like skin.  You tilted your head up as a tentacle brushed along your chest, circling your neck for but a second before retreating. Wherever your friend touched, a comforting cooling sensation followed. And after your walk up the side of the mountain it was a very welcoming change. 

That presence bloomed in your mind and your smile turned sheepish as a thinner tentacle slipped under your shirt and petted along your bare chest. You felt a curiosity grow through you. Not yours, but theirs. 

You couldn’t hide how warmed the smooth, velvety appendage made you feel. One of the thicker tentacles was resting between your legs. Nestling between your thighs as the others gently greeted and stroked you. 

And the creature breathed an amused sound into the cave as it felt your hips twitch. And you stifled a groan when you felt the muscle tense against you, causing friction. 

Clothes fell to the mossy floor in a messy pile. The tentacles were careful but impatient as they removed each piece of material from your body.  Those many eyes drank in every inch of newly exposed skin and a heated kernal of need rose up within you. 

You gasped as the vision vanished.  A tender tip of the creature’s arms stroked along your cheek, comforting and reassuring. Asking quiet permission as your friend drew back; waiting.  You nodded, smiling.  That’s why you came here after all. Visiting a friend who needed company more intimately than passing gossipers. 

And just like the vision, your clothes fell from your body in fluid, practiced motions. A familiar scene started to open up in front of you as your friend’s arms coiled beneath you and lifted you off the hard stone. They moved you to a more open space in the cave and you were laid down in a nest of soft moss and fern leaves. The glowing vines twisted and knotted between the crags of your bed, illuminating your friend as they settled before you. Their tentacles snaked over the edge of the nest to begin tangling between your limbs. 

The thickest of them all wrapped around your calves and gently spread your legs apart. You moaned as the tip of the appendage curled over your waist and slid between your folds. Clear liquid pooled from the tip and your hips pushed up into the rounded end as they started to fondle you.  How many nights did you and them fool around in your dream? Exactly like this? Pulled to you by their need and your loneliness, your once uneventful nights were soon full of tangled limbs and visions of pleasure. 

You would wake up panting and soaked, both in sweat and with arousal. Lost in the fog of the dream and coming back to reality. 

But here, now with your friend as they loomed over you, your legs spread and pushed up around your head as a tentacle prodded and rimmed your hole, you felt a wave of excitement come over you. 

Tangling with your heated anticipation as the tip against you pushed and your walls gave entry.  It felt like a great relief washed over you as they pushed deeper. The discomfort that has plagued you for days was finally relieved and you went limp against the nest as your body gave an involuntary twitch from the sweetened touch. Your friend must have felt the same because the slow rhythm rubbing along your slit faltered. 

Your mind fogged with a layer of desire and joy as more limbs petted down the back of your thighs and started to grope and fondle you. Twisting and touching along your bare chest as your back arched into the tangle of arms.

You gasped, mouth hanging open as your walls were stretched. Their murmuring was gentle and reassuring. A soothing contrast to the waves upon waves of eager anticipation that radiated from them.  Then the tip pushed deeper and you felt your walls welcome them. And you accepted the intrusion with a heavy moan.

They shivered above you. You felt the heat of your body burn against their cool skin and they enjoyed it. Loved how your hole so eagerly spread for them and how deep they started to go. 

Inch by careful inch, your friend filled you until your eyes squeezed shut and an uncomfortable tension pushed at your stomach. They halted, and a tender touch brushed along your cheek again; reassuring and comforting. 

They didn’t mean to push so hard. But your body felt so good, so soft and warm that they wanted to stay there forever. 

You relaxed after the thick limb began to pull out. But it was so slow it was torture, your moan lowered into a whine. 

They stalled. Those many eyes  watching you as you reached down and ran your fingers along their tentacles. Giving attention to the entanglement of limbs that snaked and petted along your waist and chest. You were almost entirely swallowed by them that you could barely move without them allowing you too. 

You felt small bumps and ridges slide along your palm. Your fingers were left slimy with the substance that oozed from the tip of their appendages.

Curiously, you brought your fingers to your mouth and gave them a small lick.  Just like the pool, the liquid was cool and sweet on your tongue. Like honey. Your friend purred as you stuck two fingers between your lips. And before you could react, a small tentacle wrapped around your wrist and tugged your hand away. 

Your lips were immediately filled with another thick tendril and you felt the tip hit the back of your throat. 

Your eyes bulged and you gagged as a small drop of the liquid slid down your throat.  A worrying whisper tickled your mind. A question, as the limb between your lips started to retreat. You hummed and relaxed your mouth, giving silent permission to continue.

Pleased, your friend pushed further and your eyes watered at the intrusion. But you licked at the velvety underside of the limb. Moaning softly as you tasted that sweet nectar which began to trickle into your mouth.  Your friend then started to continue to pull out of you. You whined again but they slowly slid from your hole, leaving only the tip, before slamming back into you with enough force that your body rocked and your eyes widened in surprise.  Whatever noise of complaint you tried to voice died very quickly as a pace was established. Rough and fast, feverish almost, as your friend purred above you. Your hips were lifted off the ground, angled in a way that folded you in half and your legs were spread wide and near your shoulders. 

Your chest was rubbed and squeezed, your peaked nipples teased by pillowy suction cups on the smallest limbs. Liquid pooling from the coils wrapped around you to ensure there was no restriction to the way they moved. 

Your lips were assaulted by the tentacle in your mouth, which coiled and rubbed along your tongue like a cold version of your own. Your friend shifted closer. Entirely enveloping you with their tentacles as they pulled you against their body. 

You felt yourself being lifted and pressed against their underside as if they wanted to feel you squirm and writhed against them. 

Your eyes closed as you lost yourself to the blinding pleasure. Your walls were stretched and you felt them knock against the deepest part of you, your womb near buckling under the onslaught of thrusts.

The whispering voice transformed into a whining growl that grated your ears. Somehow you knew the harsh sound was your friend’s moaning as they sprawled themselves over the nest. Crushing you against the soft floor as their body started to rut and flood your exposed body with that sweet cooling liquid.  You could feel your climax coming forth. Fighting the cool touch of your friend was a racing wildfire beneath your skin, ready to burst when their tip found something sensitive within you. A bundle of nerves that had you thrashing against your cocoon of petting limbs. 

Your friend cooed softly and your body was suddenly made empty as the tentacle slid out of you.  You cried out. Your frustration was muffled by the thick tongue like limb that you were currently sucking on. 

Amusement flooded your thoughts. And a feeling of patience trickled into your hazy mind.  You pushed against it, harshly sucking on the tentacle in your mouth as if you could coax your friend to reconsider. 

But instead of filling you again, your friend moved so all you could see was their underside. The wrappings of muscled limbs left you. You gasped and licked your lips as the tongue left you as well. 

Above you, your friend’s underside was like a shelled belly. Beautiful with intricate brown lines and plates of green; you would have admired them more if your body wasn’t currently screaming at the lack of touch and stimulation.  Your friend twitched above you and from a slit between the two back legs, something pushed between the thick shell like plating.  As red as candy and thicker than any of the limbs that had previously been buried inside you, your friend’s cock left its protective sheath and started to lower towards your spread thighs. 

The head of the length was flared and rounded nubs circled the wide tip. You licked your lips again. Your body clenching in anticipation and worry as the girth tilted, as if flexible like the tentacles before, and brushed over your sensitive clit. 

You groaned and spread yourself wider. Even going as far as sliding your hands down to your hole and moving your folds so their cock didn’t tug on anything. 

Appreciation melted into your mind and you relaxed against the nest as your friend’s hips dipped lower and the flared head disappeared between your thighs.  You felt the cool soft tip press against your entrance and you tried hard not to tense as they started to push into you. 

You gasped as your walls were stretched to their limit. Comforting murmurs filled your mind as you squeezed your eyes shut against the discomfort. 

But that’s all there was. No pain, just a slight discomfort as your body adjusted to this new girth.  You clung to the body that was inches above you. Holding onto your friend as they tenderly thrusted into you. 

Their clawed hands tore into the nest as they forced themselves to go slow. The images of their cock ravaging you, filling you with every inch of them to claim you; fluttered through your mind before they were snatched away by their self-control. 

Finally, you felt the flared head reach your womb and you were sure you felt the rounded nubs move and press against your walls. Like they were making a barrier against your cervix. 

They then started to move. Your back immediately arched as pleasure burst through your center. You cried out, gasping as your body was rocked again and again by your friend’s eager rutting. They could barely move inside you. The locked position of the flared head felt like a knot deep inside you, keeping you both firmly together. 

But still your friend desperately chased the pleasure they had to previously pause to properly enter you. 

And just as you started to adjust to the heavy sensation in your stomach, your friend shivered above you and the base of their cock bulged as something slid down the long length. 

You gasped, watching the egg roll down the thick length and your walls squeezed tightly around the new intrusion. Your friend thrusted harder than before. Pushing the rounded shaft deeper, forcing your walls to spread around it.

Your head rolled back as it popped inside and you groaned disgustingly loud as it settled deep within you. A heavy, warm bubble of liquid that rounded your stomach and jostled with every thrust from your friend. 

They growled above you as another egg left them and you grabbed the trunk like leg to brace yourself as the bulging intrusion rested against the first.  You reached down and started to rub your untouched clit. Sliding your fingers between your folds, wetting them on the cool liquid that your friend poured from their cock. You felt the hard lump where a third egg was currently flush against your body, begging entrance as your friend purred above you. You circled your clit, rolling your hips in time with your friend’s thrust until pleasure exploded forth. Your climax was what they needed to get the third egg into you. Your spasming walls and jerking hips gave them enough leverage to slide their third egg into your waiting pussy.

The purring increased until it was all you heard. Their cock twitched and you felt some sort of thicker liquid pool from between your legs. 

In your blind chase for pleasure, you didn’t realize the stimulation you were giving your friend. And your fall into bliss dragged them down with you, spilling their pleasure into your swollen hole. 

They didn’t move from their position above you. Still locked together, your friend murmured sweet whispers into your mind as you both caught your breath. 

White hot bliss sparked from your body with every lazy roll of their hips.  You couldn’t recall how much time you laid there beneath them. Writhing and moaning, lost in an overstimulated fog of pleasure and bliss.  Sometime during this hazy moment, your friend finally pulled out of you. You barely felt the shift between your legs, still snugly swollen with eggs.

You fell asleep not long after that. Finally coaxed into rest by your friend’s nuzzling touches. Their limbs massaged along your arms and stomach, as if soothing you into finally sleeping. 

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 15)

first chapter >> last chapter

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Sleep eludes you. You toss and turn that first night, not used to sleeping on your own. Every sound makes you jump. When the sky goes black and the bushes rustle with the breeze, you have to double check the locks on the doors no less than three times, fastening it with the wooden bolt just to be safe. 

Without John around, the world is twice as loud; crickets chirp raucous melodies, buzzing so loud that sometimes you swear there must be one on the pillow right beside your head, and, in the distance, an owl hoots at an interval so irregular that each screech tugs you back from the brink of sleep. The house groans as it settles into itself; the first time you hear it, you spring upright in bed, heartbeat erratic, certain that it’s the sound of someone coming up the porch steps. 

You collapse back onto the mattress with a huff when you finally recognize the sound for what it is. 

You don’t sleep well that night. Dawn finds you awake before its arrival. The songbirds keep you from drifting off back to sleep when the first wispy rays of sunlight creep over the horizon, and you lie in bed until the possibility of sleep is well behind you. That makes you huff, bitter over the loss. 

Again, the day is slow to come over you. It seems almost reluctant to really get going, the sunlight clear and the air brisk but the day itself slow moving. An early morning chill forces you to don heavier garments than usual. 

After breakfast, you take Buttercup into the paddock to run around, watching her from the edge of the pen, humming to yourself under your breath. 

Most of the morning is spent cleaning and doing chores around the house. You muck the stables, feed the horses, scrub the dirty laundry on the washboard before hanging it up on the line, weed the garden, and promise yourself that next week you’ll work up the energy to boil linseed oil to polish and oil the furniture. As it is, you stagger into the kitchen around midday for lunch, sticky with sweat. 

Kate comes up the path on horseback not too long after that, a large swooped hat perched precariously on her head. She has to hold it in place by the brim to keep it from flying off. You watch her from the window at first, drying your hands from the quick wash you gave them after finishing your lunch.

“I ought to start making new friends,” you quip when she takes a seat next to you on the porch swing. 

“Sick of my company already?” she laughs. 

“Well, a girl’s gotta have options.” 

She snorts at that, tipping her hat lower on her head to shade her eyes from the sun. It has the effect of cutting a wide shadow across her face, leaving only a swath of white teeth exposed. 

Her beauty has always come as an afterthought. Tanned, freckled skin, and hair like golden wheat. But you look now and you see something different than the woman you’re used to seeing, and it dawns on you that what you’re seeing now is a version of Kate divorced from the idea of her that you’d always had in your head. Almost fuller; more robust. 

You tear your eyes away only when she catches you staring and cocks an eyebrow. 

She coaxes you into saddling Buttercup up and accompanying her on a trail ride. Part of you resists initially, still wounded from your last ride, and when Kate presses you for more information, you reluctantly divulge, recounting the events from the weeks prior with a tremble in your voice. She nods only once while you speak, keeping her comments to herself. That she must have already known doesn’t surprise you; she’d insinuated as much only the other week. 

You’d be wise to not keep secrets from Kate in the future, you realize. Best to keep someone as omniscient as her on your side. 

After some encouragement, she talks you into a leisurely stroll and even helps you dress Buttercup in the stables. The dizzying spell of apprehension settles over you like a heavy fog up until you blink and realize that the two of you have been riding beside each other in silence for the better part of a half mile. 

The fear doesn’t entirely evaporate, however. Any sudden dip in the terrain or unexpected noise from Buttercup makes you start. You take several breaks to breathe and walk around. At the top of a hill, you ask Kate in a voice verging on shrill if you can take a break and dismount before she’s even answered you. 

“She can sense if you’re on edge,” Kate reminds you, nodding to where Buttercup grazes in a nearby patch of grass. 

“Well, I can’t help that much. I am on edge.”

She tips her head back to look at the sky and sighs before looking back at you. “Sit down for a bit then. It’s not a race.”

And you do, for a spell. You sit and rest with your back against the trunk of a tree that branches high above you, the canopy blotting out any sunlight save for the tendril thin strands that sink through like stones in water. 

You’re striking a delicate balance between the needs of the flesh and the needs of the soul. What the soul wants is to push itself beyond the boundaries that formerly enclosed it; after a lifetime of servitude and desires suppressed, even a simple trail ride feels momentous. What the flesh wants, however, is to shade in the shade until the urge to retch wears off. 

The walk takes the two of you by a farm with a large, fenced-in enclosure. A couple houses sit around the enclosure. The smell of the livestock is pungent at first and your nose wrinkles as you approach the farm, but you adjust after a time. 

Recent weeks so far from home have spoiled you; back in the city, the pungent stench of waste and manure was commonplace, the sour cloak of tobacco stinking up the alehouses and alleyways as much as the parlors and lounges. You’d adjusted to it back then as well. 

The grazing cows rumble and low behind the fence. It’s a pleasant bucolic scene, one lifted straight from a painting that you swear you’ve seen before, though the artist’s name escapes you. 

Looking out into antediluvian pastures sets your heart at ease. When the farmer wanders out of the barn to greet the two of you, the two of you join him and his wife for coffee in the big house. 

For a brief period of time, it’s like stepping out of your body; there’s no impetus to get a move on, and inertia doesn’t set in like a rolling fog leaving you stranded in no man’s land. Nothing like the late evenings lying in bed in your aunt and uncle’s apartment, staring up at the pockmarked ceiling and praying for something to change. 

You, simply, have a coffee.

After bidding them farewell, the bulk of the afternoon is spent at Kate’s house, a tiny plot of land just outside of town surrounded by fields of ochre prairie grass. You’re wiped by the end of the ride, sweat running in rivulets down your back. While Kate brings the horses into her little stable to let them rest and eat, you fill up the porcelain bowl in her bathroom with water to wash your face. 

It’s quiet. You help with a few affairs around the house and you learn, to your own internal amusement, that Kate hums through her chores. Soap stops by in the early evening to drop off Kate’s mail and stays for supper, glad for the company. You watch bemusedly as he scarfs down three corned beef sandwiches with ease, mildly nauseated by the way he talks with his mouth full. 

“Can he even breathe?” you hiss to Kate while Soap is busy shoveling food into his gob. 

She nods, unbothered by the display in front of her. “You should see him when he’s actually hungry.”

You pale when he belches, pushing your plate away from you.

“Ye tell yer man when he’s back what a good job I’ve done, Mrs. Price,” he says, licking a leaking trail of sauce off his thumb. 

“Won’t the town still standing be sufficient evidence?”

“Aye, but it’s sweeter comin’ from the missus, ye dinnae think?” 

Incorrigible boy. You shake your head, acquiescing even if only to get him to shut up. That mollifies him, gets him crowing about the raise he’ll get, or the commendation. You think he’ll start going on about lofty aspirations towards sheriffdom, but he never quite gets to that point. You wonder if the rest of your life will be similarly composed of assumptions that fall flat when you look at them too hard.

He takes you home at the end of the night as a favor to Kate, who watches you from the door until she disappears into the faraway. You only have to yell at Soap twice to slow down when he tries to goad you into a faster gallop. 

You sleep better that night, but only just. This time, it’s the empty spot beside you on the bed that bothers you. His pillow is cold when you reach over to touch it. Your hand lingers on the pillow; there’s a passing thought that maybe the warmth of your hand will transfer into the pillow and trick you in sleep. You have another passing thought that maybe somewhere out there, wherever John is, he’ll feel a phantom hand creep across the bed to cup his cheek. 

The blooming flower of daylight comes again to wake you up and the cycle starts anew. 

The chores never end, but there’s some comfort in routine. Regularity breeds familiarity. Any contempt has long been bled out of you, almost without you even noticing.

The days pass slowly. A horse-drawn carriage. A robin nestled in the branches of a pine tree sings at evening twilight. You look up to find it stark against the dark green needles, the fir’s red heart.

A neighbor comes by with fresh strawberries that you eat from the bowl out in the sun, lying down in the grass by the paddock. You suck the juice out of a big one when you bite into it and it drips messy down your chin. When the achenes fleck off, you wipe them off on your dress. 

Though you half expect Kate to come by, she never does. Perhaps she’s busy in town. You remind yourself that the brevity of your friendship can hardly measure up to competing priorities. Minding the shop, for instance, or stopping by to check on other acquaintances. 

And then the waiting ends when you see a dark shadow on the horizon that you recognize all at once as a man on horseback headed towards the house. 

Elation clambers up your throat. You very nearly shout at the sheer sight of him, but at the last second, you manage to reign it in. 

You wave at John from the porch when you can finally make out the face of the man riding up the path. Despite the euphoric wave that washes over you at the sight of him, you feign composure, keeping your butt planted on the porch swing until he dismounts and heads down the path towards you.

There's something striking about watching him from a distance. Like Kate, you see him now from a new angle, an added weight to him. When he lumbers up the porch steps, you don't just see the man that dragged you to the court house and forced you to marry him, but a man in his prime. Square, masculine jaw; thick thighed. Something in your belly stirs when he rolls his shoulders back, accentuating the breadth of them. 

When he reaches you, he grips you under the arms to pull you up, but your arms wind around his neck without any coaxing, meeting him halfway. Every inch of your body presses into his, and he smells and feels exactly as you remembered. 

“Been missing you like hell, sweetheart,” John rasps into your ear. 

“Missed you too,” you mutter, lips smushed into a kiss against his cheek. 

And you did, didn’t you? You can say it for once without worrying that you’ll fall apart. 

The two of you stumble into the house in a daze. Your hands are already trembling well before you fist them into John’s hair to drag him into a kiss. Desperation claws up your throat, need choking you when you go to tell him how much you missed him. You missed him bone deep. 

He pulls away briefly, chuckling when you whine. “Darlin’, can I at least get cleaned up? I’m a mess.”

His beard has grown since you last kissed him, the mutton chops more pronounced now. It scratches your lips and cheeks when you tug him back down for a deeper kiss. He can clean himself later as far as you’re concerned. You’ve gone three days now without your husband and you can’t go a second more. 

You can feel his smile when he breaks the kiss again. “Honey—”

“No,” you cut him off, a whine threading your voice. You tighten your arms around his neck, pushing your bosom into his chest. “Please, John, don’t make me wait; I can’t—”

“Alright, alright,” John sighs, and then hunches slightly to fit his hands under your thighs  and hike you up his body until your legs wind around his waist. “Poor girl. Never seen you this needy before. You missed me that bad?”

“Yes,” you answer succinctly, already pressing kisses into the sweaty skin of his neck and his cheeks. His arms shake when he laughs.

He nearly trips up the stairs when you suck at the salty skin of his neck. 

John smiles amusedly when you whip your dress off, nearly getting tangled in it before letting it pile on the floor by the bed. 

In a different time, your eagerness might embarrass you, but you’re well beyond that now. It’s impossible to hear that distant voice in your head shrieking modesty when your husband watches you indulgently and unbuttons his shirt so slowly that you nearly bark at him to hurry it up. And then you actually do when he goes to fold his shirt instead of simply tossing it to the floor.

He laughs; it sends frissons of heat down your spine. 

It’s unclear who pursues and who is pursued this time. All you know is that you either push him onto the bed or he pulls you down with him, clothes long since stripped and piled onto the floor. Your hands sink into the meat of his chest when you sit astride his lap, wet folds grinding on the hard shaft jutting up between his legs. John hisses through clenched teeth, already worked up, fit to burst. You wonder if he tended to himself at all on his trip, whether he even had time. 

The hands tightening around your waist tell you that, whether or not he did, it’s inconsequential now when faced with the thing he’s been wanting most.

Your instinct is to lift your hips and line his member up with your sopping entrance before sinking down, but John surprises you by shifting up the bed and dragging you with him, not stopping until your pussy is hovering over his mouth. 

It’s easy to panic over that, easy to grow skittish. You start when the flat of his tongue runs up the seam of your cunt, the only thing keeping you from tumbling off the bed altogether being the big hands clamped around your hips.  

“You try to keep your pussy off my face and I’ll give you a licking you won’t like anywhere near as much,” John warns, and then pulls you down onto his face without further ado. 

Your back arches at the first lick, his tongue burrowing into your hole, softened by the slick leaking out of you. His lips and tongue work you over until you’re a shivering, coiled mess on top of his face, hands braced against the wall and toes burrowing into the mattress. 

A stiff tongue stabs up into your hole. The groan he lets out at the taste of you vibrates through you, making you clench around his tongue. 

You’ve never been much of a drinker, but you feel drunk now, grinding on his mouth. Hands running through his hair. Blissed out, sex leaking, throbbing. Shameful noises pouring out of you unbidden, your inhibitions packed up and long gone by now. His upper lip glistens with your juices and when his eyes blink open, they’re nearly black with desire. 

The hands on your bottom holding you over his head grip into you good and tight. He readjusts his hold on you whenever you try to pull off his face, yanking you back down and digging his fingers in harder, the tips wedged between your cheeks. You practically yowl when a finger prods at your back hole, worrying over the puckered flesh. 

The time for gentle words is far beyond him. When you glance down between your legs, his hair is matted with sweat and disheveled, a flush high on his cheekbones. Blue eyes peer out through slits, locked on the dripping mess between your thighs. His nose presses hard into your pubic bone when he pulls you down onto his waiting mouth, lips parting and tongue sawing over your clit. That part you can’t see, but you feel the wet slide of his tongue over your slit. 

You come with a finger lodged knuckle deep in your ass and his tongue rolling over your clit, coaxing it from you. Your whole body pulses and shivers. Chuckling to himself when you go dumb during it, slumped over him and panting hard. Tears dripping down your cheeks that John cleans up himself with his tongue when he drags you back down his chest and rolls the two of you over. 

“God, you look so pretty like this, honey,” he coos when he’s got you under him, pinching your cheeks between his fingers until your lips go plump and pursed. 

When he drags you into a kiss, his tongue still tastes of you. 

He takes you on your back after that, knees over his shoulders and bending you in ways you didn’t think possible. Whatever control he had before is gone now. He thrusts in to the hilt the second he gets you flat on your back, taking three days of frustration out on you, near punching your cervix with the head of his cock. 

“There we go— fuck—” John growls. “C’mon, squeeze me tight, honey; make me come in your pretty fuckin’ pussy.”

You feel like a creature turned inside of itself. All high yips, sharp pangs of pleasure, an ache in your hips that you know instinctively will worsen by morning, and a deep seated, unquenchable need. He mates you like a beast in heat, jaw clenched and brows furrowed; when your eyelids slip shut, he growls at you to keep them open, and you do only to find him staring down at you with that indelible, maddening intensity of his. 

“Nngh, John—John—” you gasp.

“Just a little, darlin’—shh, c’mon, just take it. Like that, yes—that’s it.” 

A dark urge flutters under your skin, blinking its eyes open. You stare up at him through half lidded eyes. “Gonna come in me and give me a baby, John?”

His eyes go black. “I’m gonna fill this tight cunt right up, you keep talking like that.”

You reach up to rake your hands through his hair. "Please give me a baby, John. Give me it, please."

His hips snap forward, knocking the breath out of you. He pounds into you with renewed vigor, lost in it, your nipples tagging his chest with every thrust. 

If you could peel back your skin and tuck him into your ribcage, you would. He’s already in you anyway; everywhere it counts. Leathery musk wafting under your nose, sweat-slicked skin, his spend deep in your cunt and leaking out around his throbbing cock, the heat steaming off him and warming you from the outside in and inside out. His come spurts into you hot and viscous, so deep that you swear you can taste it at the back of your throat. 

In the aftermath, you curl up against his chest and he traces a finger lazily up and down your spine. 

“You’ve been so patient with me.” You don’t know what prompts you to say that, but you know it’s been sitting in your chest and waiting for you to put it to words. 

His fingers pause in their ministrations, his hand resting flat on your back. “Patient?”

“Don’t play dumb, John. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Got some nerve accusing me of playing dumb,” he chuckles softly, leaning down to butt his forehead against yours. 

You nearly go cross eyed. Doe eyed. Treacle tart soft in your chest. You wonder if you’ll look back on this someday in fear and awe, and think that is the very moment when you finally let him in. 

This is how love suffuses into the girl: you wake up gasping to find it staring down at you. 

You’re brave enough now to ask what it is that you need. The world flashes briefly before you: in it, you see every possible version of a girl, how she goes from animal skin to teeth glinting in the night. She is perforated and vibrating; lacunae as the voice drips back into the sea, papyrus crackling hot in the fire. 

Maybe new love flounders again against the rhythms of the old, the song of you now sleeping beneath an alder tree, thickening with lemon and honey.

“I’m going to…—you know I’ll tell you. I just need time.”

“Darlin’, I know. There’s no use for rushing things. It happens when it happens,” John murmurs. He drops a bristly kiss on your forehead. 

“…And if it doesn’t happen?”

He shrugs. “Then it doesn’t happen.”

It’s a shock when love finds you because you don’t expect it. You’d open the door to anything else in a heartbeat, but it’s love that finds you cowering under the stairs. 

Love is not something you’ve ever touched, not even grazed. You recognize the insidious rot of lust or the gnarled grip of possession, but love? That has yet evaded your attempts on it. Not that you’ve ever given it a good go. 

But now, when you think of it, it looks at you through blue eyes. 

You sleep on it. You don’t contemplate when it’ll happen only because you know it’s inevitable. Your lips have already grown loose. When he eats you out in the early morning hours after a good night’s sleep for once since John left, you have to swallow back the wails of I love you, I love you, tell me you love me, please, please. 

Your lips part, lax. Only sinking your mouth down over his turgid length after he’s made you come keeps you from accidentally saying the words. The soft, grunted fuck he lets out at that empties out any thought in your head.

Desperate times, desperate measures. 

If John knows, he jealously guards your secret. Would take it to his grave you think. Just for him and you to know. Any temerity from the night before is squashed in the light of day, and you sit across from him at the table during breakfast wishing that he could hear the words in your head, if only so you didn’t have to say it out loud. 

God bites the lip when you want it most to part. Isn’t that just the nature of life?

John leaves you off at the general store as always, dropping a peck to your lips before heading out on his way, but when you wander inside, you find Miles behind the counter instead of Kate. That dims the excitement in your chest a tad. It’s no fault of his, but you’d hoped to regale Kate with the revelation you’d had the night previous, omitting some of the lewder details. Instead you’ll be forced to wait until she’s back in town. When you ask Miles when abouts that’ll be, he shrugs, unable to give you a definite answer.

“Visiting a friend, she said,” he tells you, and you blink like you don’t know exactly what that means. 

Her absence leaves you in a lurch though, little else to do but wander around the store. You’d leave entirely and try to find something else to occupy your time, but you feel a bit foolish coming in just to leave right away, though you’re sure Miles wouldn’t care either way. Still, you tell yourself you’ll linger for a few minutes before heading out to the library or down the road for a coffee at the inn. 

The bell over the door jingles, but you pay it no mind. 

You linger in the aisle with the fruit preserves and canned fish, gazing into the bottles. Tins with hand-drawn labels, branded packaging. On another shelf, you find oyster crackers, National Biscuit Company on the label. Nabisco. If Kate were minding the shop, you’d pop your head around the aisle to ask her what corned beef brand she used the other day. 

The sound of spurs jangling from behind you makes you frown and turn your head. 

A hand clamps down over your mouth, muffling the yelp that leaps instinctively from your throat, and you go shock cold when the blunt muzzle of a pistol wedges against the small of your back. 

“Bet you thought you were clever gettin’ me out of town, didn’t you, girl?”

Your eyes widen.