#but. I could. and i kind of really want to...

[beigebeignett]

I do love angst but I'm also a sucker for happy endings and re-incarnation, so here's my take on what happens (decades/centuries) after:

The sphinx and her lover: reimagined

Imagine that the sphinx ends up dying, as all living creatures do, and ends up reincarnated as a very smart yet terrifying young scientist. 

Her passion in her fields equals her distaste for other people; especially men who try to undermine her knowledge and talent at dates. So, she sets up a strategy to determine who is worthy of her time.

If you want to get a date with me, solve my riddles, wrong answers will get you blocked. 

There, done, she thinks. If that doesn't make men stop bombarding her with messages, she doesn't know what will (well, she can think of a few others, but she'd rather not spend more time and energy than she's already spending on such a silly matter). 

And so, she starts getting less messages, with only some men and women being brave (or foolish) enough to try and chat with her. 

The ones that try to answer her riddles don't usually last long; getting the second or third wrong. Some don't even last the first one; those are usually the most bothersome, acting as if she has no right to choose her partner, as if she's being too ruthless (when she'd been honest since the beginning). 

Weeks pass before she gets another message. And so, she does as she always does. This time though, something's different. He keeps getting her riddles right, over, and over, and over. 

How curious, she thinks. How curious indeed, when he asks her if he could try asking her a riddle. She scoffs at her phone, partially amused, and agrees. 

She gets the answer right, of course, so he keeps asking riddle after riddle and she does the same, as if they were playing a game of pass the ball. The riddles get increasingly difficult, and the time those three dots stay floating on the chat grows longer as well; but she doesn't mind. She can wait a bit more for this one. Plus, while she waits, she can get lab reports done instead of worrying about finding new questions to ask that man. 

Sometimes days go by without her seeing any new riddles for him; sometimes a week passes before he gets asked another one. 

She must be busy, he thinks. He must have other things to do, she assumes. 

Between riddles, they start to talk about more mundane things: his job, her career, his essay on ancient Greek marriage practices; her paper on nuclear magnetic resonance in chemical engineering… He sends her pictures of his cat napping on top of his dictionaries and encyclopaedias, basking in the sun; and in turn she sends him pictures of boards filled with equations and pictures of filled excel tables.

Soon, they start chatting more, asking riddles occasionally when they’re both tired of talking about themselves. 

She learns that he’s an Archaeology major, and he finds out that she’s already getting her doctorate; something about chemical engineering, she explains. He’s fascinated by the topic, asking her a million questions about what it’s like, her doctorate subject, how did she choose her career path… And in turn she asks him about archaeology; why did he choose to spend his life studying the past, what is it that he enjoys the most about his field of work… 

They agree to meet up at the local library two days later. 

Almost a foot taller than him; that’s how tall she is. She’s waiting for him sitting near the entrance, browsing through architecture magazines when he finds her. He smiles and warmly waves at her, formally introducing himself, and extends his hand for her to shake; so she stands up as well to take it and introduce herself as well. That’s when they notice.

Even though he’s not short himself (considering the standards) at 5'9", at almost 7 feet tall she towers over him. Their aesthetics seem to clash a bit as well: his outfit is quite simple: some basic jeans and a nice cream wool jumper paired up with some sneakers, and hers consists of a pleated red skirt and a shirt paired with black knee-high boots to combat the cold. Out of the chat, and now face to face, their conversation flows easily; they exchange book recommendations, and of course they ask each other some riddles to pass the time. 

Overall, their first date goes well. Better than she expected, honestly, which is why when he asks her for a second date, she agrees.

To be continued...?

[mariasont]

HI i have an idea and its making me really giddy

ok so reader is a translator for the bau and they’re always reading and translating texts or calls or anything like that. and the reader to spencer is basically like penelope to derek. they flirt all the time and all of those lovely things.. and it’s kinda just where they’re flirting on the phone and morgan teases reid about it and reid gets all flustered

IDK IF IT CAN WORK I JUST LOVE FLUSTERED SPENCER :(

anyway i’ll probably be in your inbox a bunch uhhh so call me h or something

-h

Warm Under the Collar - S.R

summary: spencer insists he is not flirting. morgan insists that spencer absolutely is. one of them is lying. pairings: spencer reid x translator!reader warnings: heavy flirting, pre-relationship mutual pining, verbal sparring as foreplay, workplace hr violations, use of angel wc: 0.6k

“Are you thinking about me, Dr. Reid? Because I’ve been thinking about you.”

Spencer exhales, tugging at the collar of his dress shirt as if loosening it might alleviate the sudden stranglehold of your words. He wasn’t sure if it was always this constricting or if it was conspiring against him at the mere sound of your voice.

He rolls his eyes, performative, really, because you can’t see him, and it’s easier to feign exasperation than admit the effect you have on him. His mouth, however, twitches in betrayal, flirting with a smile before he crushes it. 

The crime board he was supposed to be focusing on, filled with monochrome photos and reports, was now blurring into meaningless scribbles as his thoughts veer off-course, plummeting headfirst into you.

“I’m always thinking about you.”

The words come easily because they require no effort to be true. Always isn’t hyperbole, it’s a mathematical constant, an irrefutable fact.

He was thinking about you before he even called you, felt the shape of you in his mind like an afterimage burned onto his retinas. 

Thought about what color you were wearing, whether your hair was up or down. He wondered if you’d eaten, if you were drinking enough water, if you’d remembered to bring a jacket to the office because the temperature had dropped unexpectedly. 

“Always? Spencer, if you wanted me that bad, all you had to do was say so.”

He isn’t sure why he hesitates — why his brain takes a detour through all the ways he has said so, if not in words, then in the way his thoughts orbit you like a law of nature. 

“I feel like I did say so. Quite literally. But if you’d like me to be more explicit about it, I’m happy to oblige.”

Another pause. He wonders if you’re smiling.

“Mmm, well, I’m certainly not going to stop you.” You sigh, a little dramatic. “Go ahead, be explicit.”

Spencer physically winces at how hot his face gets. The very concept of explicit sits indecently in the pit of his stomach.

“Tempting.” He exhales, rubs a hand down his face, forcibly redirects. “But I do actually have a job to do. And, lucky for me, it just so happens to require your specific set of skills.” 

He leans against the crime board, half-smirking despite himself, because if nothing else, this is fun — the sharp back-and-forth, the way you press all the right buttons just to see what happens.

“I have a recording that needs translating. Think you can focus for long enough to help me, or do I need to, I don’t know, compliment your intelligence first to get you in a professional mindset?”

“Complimenting my intelligence to get what you want? Interesting. Manipulative, even.”

He groans, tilting his head toward the ceiling, appealing to some higher power for patience. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t say I was going to —”

“Too late, you put the idea in my head, and now I expect it. Preferably in an eloquent, well-structured speech. Bonus points if you make it poetic.”

“Or,” he counters, “you could translate the recording first, and I’ll… circle back to stroking your ego at a later, more convenient time.”

A small pause. The kind that feels intentional, like you’re weighing your options.

“I guess that works,” you say. “Send it over, pretty boy.”

Spencer shakes his head, fingers moving on autopilot as he sends the file, because if he thinks too hard about the way you lilted that last pretty boy, he might die. “Alright, thanks. Be good, angel.”

He hangs up, still grinning like an idiot, still entirely too warm under the collar. He exhales, staring at the phone in his hand like it might have the decency to cool him off, maybe undo the physiological mess you’ve left him in.

“If I have to listen to one more of your phone calls with her, I’m sending y’all an invoice.”

Spencer freezes when he sees Morgan standing behind him.

He clears his throat, ignoring the flush he knew was climbing up his neck. “Flirting is an unsubstantiated claim.”

Morgan just stares at him. Stares. “You don’t even believe that.”

Spencer mutters something about professionalism because he’s nothing if not a walking contradiction.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤSTALKERㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Dick Grayson x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : How it's like having him as your stalker?

☆⁠ NOTES : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

You never noticed him at first.

Which was strange, really. Because Dick was a presence—magnetic, charming, always the kind of guy who could steal attention in any room, even when he wasn’t trying.

But with you? He liked to stay hidden. Lurking in the shadows. Watching.

At first, it was innocent (or so he told himself). He noticed you at a coffee shop one day, lost in a book, chewing on the end of your pen as you scribbled something in a notebook. He found himself drawn to the little things—the way you furrowed your brows when concentrating, the way you smiled at something on your phone, the soft way you carried yourself. It was just curiosity at first. That’s all.

Then he saw you again. And again. And suddenly, he was seeing you everywhere.

It became a habit, a compulsion. He memorized your routine like it was a mission. When you got coffee. What time you left work. What stores you liked to browse in. He told himself he was just making sure you were safe—because Gotham was dangerous, right? A girl like you, alone? Vulnerable? It only made sense that he’d keep an eye on you.

Then he got closer.

It started small. Brushing past you on the subway, close enough to inhale the scent of your shampoo. Sitting near you in a cafe, pretending to be busy on his phone while he listened to the way you spoke. Learning your favorite drink, so he could leave it waiting for you at the counter when you arrived—anonymously, of course. You’d glance around, confused, but never knew it was him.

You weren’t even aware that he was already in your apartment.

Not when you were there, of course—he’d never scare you like that. But while you were out? He’d slip inside with an ease that almost disappointed him (you really needed better locks). He never took anything—he just… looked. Examined the little pieces of your life. The books stacked beside your bed. The jewelry you left on the dresser. The clothes draped over the chair, still carrying the ghost of your body’s warmth.

He touched them sometimes. Ran his fingers over the fabric. Just to feel close to you.

The obsession grew.

He started taking things—small things, things you wouldn’t notice were gone. A hair tie. A receipt you left on the counter. A half-used tube of lip balm. They were trophies, proof that he was part of your world even if you didn’t know it yet.

And the pictures. Oh, the pictures.

They covered his walls. You smiling. You asleep on the bus, head tucked against the window. You looking at a menu, deep in thought. Hundreds of them, from every angle, every moment of your life he could capture without you noticing.

And the best part?

You liked him.

You had no idea, of course, but Dick could see it. The way you glanced at him when he finally started talking to you, when he finally made himself known in your life. It was easy—he was charming, he was sweet, he was everything you’d want in a guy.

So he inserted himself into your life, seamlessly.

“Oh, hey, fancy seeing you here!” A bright smile. A friendly laugh. “What a coincidence, huh?”

It wasn’t a coincidence.

It was orchestrated, down to the second. Every “random” encounter, every meeting—it was all planned, deliberate. But you didn’t question it. Why would you? He was Dick Grayson. A gentleman. A hero.

You never realized the full weight of his devotion.

Never realized how deep it ran.

Never realized how much worse it could get.

Because the thought of losing you? The thought of someone else having you?

It made him sick.

It made him furious.

It made him violent.

You noticed the change after a while. The possessiveness in his touch, the way his grip lingered on your wrist, the way his blue eyes darkened when you so much as smiled at another man.

“I just don’t want you getting hurt,” he’d say, voice honey-sweet. “You’re too trusting, sweetheart. Not everyone has good intentions.”

Not like him.

So when your ex went missing, you didn’t think much of it.

When that guy at work—the one who flirted with you—got mugged and beaten within an inch of his life, you chalked it up to Gotham’s crime rate.

And when you started feeling like you were being watched, even in the safety of your own home—well.

Dick was always there to reassure you.

“It’s okay, babe,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

And he meant it.

Even if that meant keeping you all to himself.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, repost or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[straylightdream]

heaven knows

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jeon wonwoo x f.reader x kim mingyu

who knew being roommates could turn into so much more.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞(𝐬): romance, roommates to lovers, angst, smut, fluff

𝐚𝐮(𝐬): non idol

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 16.7k

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: nightmares from a past car accident mingyu had, anxiety, depression, body image issues, lots and lots of emotions, pregnancy, implied mxm (not really sexually but they hold hands and cuddle, the boys care deeply for each other)

𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex, creampie, oral (both rec), hand job, fingering, pussy stretching, big dick wonwoo, mingyu’s dick is even bigger, anal play, threesome, spit roasting, anal, double penetration, voyurism (both boys like to watch), needy reader, soft dom wonwoo (like he’s very soft, he just good a being in charge), nicknamed: baby, baby girl, princess (hers)

𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: mature, nsfw, 18+

𝐚𝐧: thank you so much to @gyubakeries for helping me out and beta reading this story. This is an older story that I really have been wanting to edit and rewrite. This just really made sense as a minwon story. I have fully reworked it and only some of the plot is the some and a couple scenes.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

Laying in your full-size bed, your soft body was curled up against the muscular body of Wonwoo. Your leg was thrown over his waist as your head used his chest as a pillow. Your body couldn’t be any physically closer to his. Curled up behind you, Mingyu was nuzzled up tightly against you. Mingyu has always had a thing for having your ass pressed against him as he slept.

It’s been two years since you moved in with the boys. Originally you moved into the city for a new job. You packed up your life and moved in with your childhood best friend Jeonghan for a little while. Once you were situated fully at work you knew it was time to find somewhere to permanently live. You loved Jeonghan but living with him and his girlfriend made you feel like you were intruding on them. Even though they both constantly told otherwise. You worked for a publishing house and were lucky enough to be able to work from home most days. You were lucky Jeonghan had two friends who had a three bedroom apartment looking for another roommate.

As soon as you met your future roommates Wonwoo and Mingyu, you instantly clicked. They were both extremely easy to live with. They were both kind, extremely neat and tidy. Mingyu was even an amazing cook who adores cooking for his roommates.

Mingyu radiates golden retriever energy. He’s tall and beautiful with tan skin. He works as a freelance videographer. He frequently goes on work trips. A perks of his job is how much he gets to travel.

Wonwoo is the black cat to his roommate's golden retriever. He’s more quiet and reserved with people he doesn’t know. Once he opens up with someone you can see how funny and, at the same time, serious he can be. He works from home like you do. He works at a big tech company, and also does streaming on the side. He also has to travel quite frequently for his job.

Things with the three of you started out platonic. Sure from the very beginning there were lingering touches and longing looks shared between you and the boys, but it was nothing romantic. Cuddling in bed was the closest you got to romance. You had fallen into this cycle of all of you sleeping in bed together.

It all started one night when you had a really bad nightmare and went to the kitchen to get water, and found Mingyu sitting on the barstool at the counter. He also couldn’t sleep himself. He told you about the nightmares he’s had since he was in college. You learned about the bad car crash he was in that almost killed him. He said he doesn’t really talk about it often. You were the only person he opened up to about that night other than Wonwoo.

“I don’t like sleeping alone,” he sighs.

“You don’t have to. I can lay with you if you want.” Part of you felt like you were crossing a boundary that you probably shouldn’t. But there was something about Mingyu that always gave you a sense of comfort.

Following Mingyu to his bedroom, you each take a side of the bed. For a while you just lay there staring at each other. After a while Mingyu reaches out to take your hand.

“Could I possibly hold you?” He asked barely above a whisper.

“Of course.” He pulls you close to him and ask you to roll over. Laying on his side, he moves so he presses up snug against you with his hand holding your soft stomach.

That was the first night you and Mingyu innocently shared a bed together.

It became a frequent habit of both of you sleeping together just to cuddle after Mingyu would have nightmares. Wonwoo joined in one night about a month in when he walked into Mingyu’s room to check on him and found him curled up next to you. You were both wide awake and spooning while talking. You both looked over at Wonwoo with the look of a child who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“What’s going on here?” He asked, leaning against the door frame.

“I had a nightmare again and asked if she would lay with me.”

“Gyu, why didn’t you tell me?” Wonwoo’s face drops a little and he looks sad. Mingyu had mentioned that in the past, especially during college after his accident, Wonwoo was always by his side. He had said in the beginning that he couldn’t even sleep alone and Wonwoo would lay in his bed, holding his hand.

“I’ve been sleeping like this with (Y/N) for about a month.”

“Oh.” Part of you feels guilty that Wonwoo seems hurt.

“Did you want to join us?” Mingyu asked, tugging you closer to him.

“Would you mind?” Wonwoo sounds nervous. You both just shake your head. Slowly he crawls into Mingyu’s bed and curls up onto the other side of the bed in front of you. From that night on you rarely ever slept alone.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You nuzzled against Wonwoo’s chest as you started to slowly wake up. Mingyu’s strong hand gently rubbed your thigh letting you know he was awake. Gently, you rolled off of Wonwoo, trying not to wake him up. Looking over at Mingyu who had moved back a little to give you room.

He laid on his back and signaled for you to cuddle up against him. You moved back into the position you had just been laying on Wonwoo. Your leg once again was tossed over Mingyu’s waist as your head nuzzled against Mingyu’s strong chest.

His hand grips your thigh and pulls you even closer to him. A soft moan passes your lips unexpectedly. This was the first time your cuddling had even gotten close to sexual. There was suddenly a thick sexual tension between you as you let out another low moan when your pajama covered cored rutted against his hip. Your eyes went wide as you bit your lip. You didn’t mean to moan, but the way he was pulling you closer to him was intoxicating.

His warm eyes locked onto yours, as if he was trying to figure out what was going on in your mind. You suddenly felt embarrassed at the fact you moaned as your body moved against him. Your eyes quickly moved away from his dark ones.

“Should I sleep somewhere else?” You rasped lightly, finally breaking the silence.

He shook his head quickly. The last thing he wanted was for you to sleep somewhere else, at this point he didn’t know if he was able to actually sleep all night without you or Wonwoo.

“What’s going on?” Wonwoo said, sitting up. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked over at the two of you confused about what was going on.

You rolled off of Mingyu quickly and laid on your back staring at the ceiling. You wondered if maybe it was time for you to start sleeping alone again. You couldn’t lie to yourself anymore. You were starting to develop feelings for both of the men you were sharing a bed with.

“I think I need to sleep alone,” you continued to stare at the ceiling. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at either of them. The embarrassment creeping across your face.

“What? Why?” Wonwoo his voice sounds raspy and sounds sleepy. He had just woken up to you suddenly saying that you didn’t want to sleep with them anymore.

“Because I can’t keep telling myself I don’t have feelings for you,” you felt embarrassed that you had to confess the feelings you had for them. You never planned on telling them. You felt as if your feelings might be one sided. Your cheeks burned bright as your eyes looked over slowly at Wonwoo and then at Mingyu who both had the same wide-eyed look as they stared at each other. Maybe if the bed would open and swallow you whole you could escape this.

“I mean I like you too,” Wonwoo said, speaking up as he looked down at you. He pushes his fingers through his messy hair.

Mingyu nodded his head, “I like you too.”

“Oh,” you were completely caught off guard. Mingyu was a man who had no issue with skinship. You hadn’t even thought about the possibility he would like you as more than a friend. Wonwoo had always been more closed off, almost afraid to put himself out there. The thought of him like you wasn’t something you could picture.

Leaning down, Wonwoo gently presses his lips to yours like he’s testing the water. Pulling back for a moment he gives you a smile. Without even thinking you lean forward pressing your lips to his.

Mingyu sits up and lets out a little laugh. “Why did I always know Wonwoo was going to be the first to kiss you.” The whole situation feels like a dream. Looking over at Mingyu, you stare at him, knitting your brows together.

Gently he reaches out resting his hand on your cheek. His thumb drags across your bottom lip. “I’ve never minded sharing with Wonwoo,” he whispers.

The moment your lips touch Mingyu’s you relax. Kissing both the boys just feels so right. Pulling away, Mingyu rests his nose against yours and smiles.

“Can we maybe talk more about this later? I’m exhausted and still want to cuddle,” Wonwoo asked as he laid back down.

“Okay we can talk about details later,” you said, still attempting to process everything.

Wonwoo moved so he was laying on his side and pulled your soft body so you were curled up against him. Mingyu smiled as he watched you curl up against Wonwoo.

“Are you going to join?” You asked.

He nodded his head as he slowly moved to become the little spoon in front of you. His strong body pressed against your soft one. Your hand was over his waist and he reached up and laced his fingers with yours and gave your hand a little squeeze.

Wonwoo gently pressed his lips to your bare shoulder and whispered, “I’m glad you moved in with us.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

It’s a rare day when yours and Jeonghan’s schedules fully line up, and you find yourself itting in a coffee shop, where he’s telling you about his latest promotion at work.

“I feel like I haven't seen you in ages. I have seen Wonwoo or Mingyu either,” Jeonghan says before taking a drink of his coffee.

“They’re both really busy with work, and work has been stressing me out. I really only see the boys at night now.”

“Are you sleeping better now?” Jeonghan knows about your nightmares and how sometimes you can barely find sleep because you can’t turn your mind off.

A heavy sigh passes your lips. How do you explain to Jeonghan that the only way you can really sleep now is curled up against your roommates? You aren’t even sure how to define your relationship with the boys. Are they technically both your boyfriends?

“Yeah, I am.”

Jeonghan studies you by knitting his eyebrows together. “How is it living with the boys? Are you still liking it like you used to?”

“Yeah, they’re great.”

A smile forms on his face. “So which one of the boys do you have a crush on?” Your face instantly burns with embarrassment and you don’t even know how to respond. “My original thought was Mingyu, but I think Wonwoo’s black cat gamer tech boy thing might get you.”

”Hannie.”

“Oh it’s definitely Wonwoo,” he perks up at the fact he thinks he figures you out. There is no point in correcting him, and maybe it’s best if he just thinks you like one of your roommates.

“Enough about who I may or may not be crushing on.” Reaching out you grab your cup of coffee. “How is your girlfriend? Have you proposed yet?”

His smile instantly drops now that you have turned the tables on him. “You know, before her, I never wanted to get married, and don’t get me wrong—I want to marry her. I just don’t know if this is the right time.”

“When do you think the right time will be?”

“I think I’m just scared, but probably now,” His girlfriend has brought up getting married a bunch. Jeonghan was her first serious relationship after her college boyfriend cheated on her and she fell hard for your best friend.

“Hannie, I think you need to stop being scared. She’s literally perfect for you.”

“I like that you turned the tables on me. Instead of just talking about your crush you brought this up,” he shakes his head taking another drink of his coffee.

“I learned from the best.” He can’t help but smile at your response.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Mingyu was away for a video shoot in Japan he was filming. This was your first time alone with Wonwoo since you confessed your feelings and shared your first kiss with each boy. You’ve fooled around quite a bit together. Each boy can’t seem to keep their hands off you and Wonwoo has his head between your legs any chance he gets. The man is very passionate about eating you out any chance he gets.

Mingyu was supposed to be arriving home any time soon. As Mingyu was leaving, he had asked Wonwoo to look after you. He called you “their girl”—the sweet nickname that left you wanting to giggle like a schoolgirl.

Wonwoo and you were curled up on the couch. You leaned into his side as the movie you were watching played on the tv in front of you. His strong hand rested on your thigh as he aimlessly drew circles onto the skin. His touch caught your attention. You glanced up at him as you were attempting to watch the movie. How were you supposed to focus on a movie when the man that was always capturing your attention was touching you?

His focus was on the tv in front of him, but he could feel you looking at him. He looked down at you with a smile playing across his lips.

“Yes, Princess?”

Your eyes narrowed, “you can’t just touch me and expect me to actually watch the movie playing.”

He bit his bottom lip and held back a smile.

“Did you want it to be more than an innocent touch?” he asks as his hand moved towards the inside of your thigh. Slowly, you nod. Over your leggings, he gropes your core with his large hand. You close your eyes as you take in the feeling.

A soft moan passes your lips. Without warning, he pulls his hand away from you. He doesn’t give you a chance to think before he moves you so you were facing each other. He reaches forward and connects his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. His fingers tangled in your hair pulls you closer to him as your lips danced together. His strong hands grab your soft hips, moving you so you were straddling his waist. His hands roam your back as your lips continue to move against each other. The way you were kissing, you would have sworn that you needed each other to breathe. The sound of the door opening caused you to pull apart. With wide eyes you both looked up to see Mingyu standing by the tv.

“I see you took care of our girl,” Mingyu smiled as he stared at the pair of you who look like you got caught doing something you shouldn’t.

“Hey Gyu,” Wonwoo awkwardly said as you crawled off of him, and moved back to your spot on the couch you had been sitting on.

“Why are you two acting like I just walked in on you cheating on me?” Mingyu was confused on why you were suddenly acting guilty.

You shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t know.” This was all new to you. It felt strange that Mingyu would be okay with you openly kissing his best friend.

“(Y/N), you’re allowed to kiss Wonwoo and do whatever you want with him. You don’t ever need to ask for my permission,” he smiled as he walked towards you and sat on the coffee table that was sat in front of the couch. He reached over and placed his hand under your chin and gently tilted your head up so you were looking into his warm eyes. “I could have walked in on you two fucking on the couch and I wouldn’t have cared. The ball is in your court at all times, Princess. Whatever you want from all this is what you get. If you want to be with both of us, you can. If you only want to be with only one of us, we both understand.”

Both Wonwoo and Mingyu wanted you to be happy, and they both had agreed that no matter what happened, your happiness was what mattered the most.

“I want both of you guys,” you whisper, still almost unsure that all of this was real. How could both of these men possibly be okay with openly sharing your affection?

“Then you have both of us Princess,” Wonwoo said from beside you.

“Did you want me to leave so you guys can go back to making out on the couch?” Mingyu asked with a soft laugh as he released your chin. “Things seemed to be heating up. Maybe Wonwoo could lay you down the couch and eat you out.” He earns a laugh from Wonwoo.

“No, did you want to cuddle and watch the movie with us?” You asked.

“I would love that.”

You moved back into Wonwoo’s side and Mingyu sat down on the couch next to you and rested his hand on your thigh.

“I missed you guys,” Mingyu smiled gently, massaging your thighs, earning a soft sigh from you.

“We missed you too,” Wonwoo said before leaning over and pressing his lips to the top of his favorite girl's head.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Sitting in the kitchen you’re working on a project that is due soon. Mingyu is making breakfast and Wonwoo is on his phone intently reading something.

“I need you two not to judge me, but I need to ask something?”

Mingyu continues to whisk his pancake batter, “shoot.”

“I don’t exactly want to assume, but assuming we were to start having sex. How would that work with the three of us?”

“Didn’t Mingyu eat you out earlier this morning?” Wonwoo chimes in.

“I think she means fully having sex. I don’t think she means what we have been doing.” Mingyu responds.

“Well, we can do it however you want. You can have one on one sex with each of us. You can have all both of us in the room. Hell, you can have both of us at the same time,” Wonwoo’s final sentence earns a smirk from Mingyu.

The thought of a threesome before this all started never even crossed your mind. Yet now you can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to be with both of them at the same time.

“I’ve never done any kind of butt stuff.” You nervously say.

“Do you ever want to?” Something tells you Wonwoo is familiar with what you would need to do to enjoy anal.

“I’m intrigued by it. I would definitely want to try it out separately. I don’t think I’m prepared to try it while taking one of you at the same time.”

Mingyu barks out a laugh, “baby the first time you try anal it won’t be while I’m inside you.” You almost find it funny. It's assumed that Wonwoo is the first person you will try anal with. It probably has something to do with Mingyu’s size. You’ve given him head quite a few times and you can’t even fit half of him in your mouth. You’re quite familiar with Wonwoo’s cock now as well and he’s large but much more manageable.

“Do you think maybe I could have a solo first time with each of you?”

“Of course. Do you have a preference on who you would like first?” Wonwoo asked.

There is a nasty thought eating away at you that you’ll hurt one of their feelings if you pick one of them.

“I don’t want to hurt either of your feelings. I don't want you to think I have a favorite.”

Wonwoo sets his phone down, raising his eyebrow, “nobody thinks you have favorites.”

“If you want Wonwoo to be first I won’t be upset,” Mingyu says as he starts pouring the batter into the hot skillet.

“How about I make this easy for you. Joshua asked me to go to the gym this afternoon and meet up with Seungcheol. Why don’t you and Mingyu spend some quality time together. Maybe you can take your clothes off.”

Mingyu smiles as he focuses on making breakfast. Your cheeks burn a little at the thought of what is going to unfold when Wonwoo leaves. “That works for me.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Mingyu smiles.

Your first time with Mingyu was everything you imagined it would be. He was gentle and took his time to fully explore your body.

Laying on his bed in his room he used to sleep in, your legs are spread. He’s laying between them with his hard cock pressed against your core. He just finished eating you out until you cried. He decided now he needed to focus on other parts of your body. His lips are attached to your perk nipple. One hand groped the other as his lips were focused on your nipple. The way he’s using his mouth made you feel like you might cum just like this. Your eyes are closed and your fingers are tangled in his hair, holding him close to your chest. Ever so often he’ll grind his cock against your mound, giving you the friction you desperately crave.

“Mingyu- please-” you’re not even ashamed to beg for more.

Releasing your nipple with a pop, some of his saliva is attached to your puffy nipple. “Yes princess?”

“Please just I need you inside of me.”

Pulling his body up onto his knees. “Do I need to use a condom?”

“Um, we didn't discuss that with Wonwoo.” You feel stupid this is definitely something the three of you should have discussed.

“Are you on birth control?” Silently you nod. “Did you want to go bare?” You’ve never done it before and the thought of Mingyu’s huge dick being inside of you bare is almost enough in itself to make you cum. “I want our first time to be completely bare, but we need to ask Wonwoo if he’s okay with that as well.”

“Do you have to call Wonwoo?”

A heavy sigh passes his lips as he crawls off the bed. He walks over to the dresser where he left his phone. You take this time to admire his beautiful naked body that’s on display. Opening his phone he goes into his favorites and hits Wonwoo’s contact. He presses the speaker and sets his phone on the bed next to you where you’re laying in the same position. It rings all of four times before Wonwoo answers.

“Gyu what’s up?”

“Please tell me I’m not on speaker?” Mingyu asked, crawling back onto the bed.

“No, what's up?”

“Can you take this call in a private place? The boys don’t need to hear any of this conversation.” Mingyu sits on his knees in between your spread legs.

“Is everything okay with (Y/N)?” You can hear the background noise on Wonwoo’s side getting quieter and quieter.

“I’m okay,” you finally speak up.

“Hi baby,” Wonwoo responds.

“Hi Wonu.”

“What’s going on that I have to make sure the boys can’t hear?”

A smile forms on Mingyu’s lips as he rubs your knee, “well, me and princess were about ready to fuck and we realized that we never discussed what the rule is with condoms.”

“Mingyu, it's more of her call on if she wants us to wear them.” Wonwoo responded immediately.

“Shouldn’t you both agree on if we decide to go bare?” You speak up.

“Baby I would prefer we don’t use them, but that’s if you’re on birth control and Mingyu is also okay with it.”

“She on birth control and fuck, I desperately want to feel her raw.”

“So, no condoms?” You ask.

“We don’t have to use them. I’m clean. I got tested the month after you moved in and I haven’t been with anyone since.” Wonwoo says.

“I’m also clean.” Mingyu chimes in.

“Same here. I haven’t had sex in like four years.” You still feel a little embarrassed admitting that.

“Have fun you two,” You can picture him smiling on the other end. “Princess, when I get home, how about I steal you away for a while?”

“Okay.”

“Bye guys.”

“Bye Wonwoo,” You both say.

Mingyu ends the call and tosses his phone away from you. “Princess, where were we?” He gets back into the same position hovering over you. He reaches between you taking his length in his hand. “It might hurt a little. If it’s too much just tell me.”

Leaning up, you press your lips to his for a gentle kiss. “I’m ready.”

It wasn’t a lie. The feeling of him stretching you out did hurt. A gasp passes your lips as you attempt to adjust to the feeling of him. Leaning down, his nose rests against yours.

A soft whimper passes your lips.

“Baby I’m sorry.” He sounds distraught.

“Please just go slow.”

He treats you like you’re made of glass. His thrust is slow but deep. Connecting his lips to yours, he helps take your mind away from the aching feeling below. With each thrust the painful feeling starts to disappear.

“You feel so good,” he moans against your lips.

Your hands crawl across his back, wanting to desperately touch every part of him.

The coil in your stomach tightens as you get closer and closer to finding your release. Every muscle feels as if it’s tightening when your high washes over you. Your walls contract, pulling on his large length.

His own high has him moaning against your lips. He fills you with thick white ropes of his release. Dropping down to his elbows, he lays some of his weight on your soft body. Your fingers run through his hair, enjoying the feeling of him being so close. “I love you,” he softly whispers against the delicate skin on your chest. Almost as if he doesn’t want you to hear.

“I love you too,” you whisper back. This is the first time these words have been exchanged, but you truly love them both.

After a little while, Mingyu removed himself from you and cleaned up his release before crawling into bed with you. An afternoon nap felt like the perfect post sex aftercare.

Slowly your eyes opened up at the feeling of the bed moving. The room was dim, letting you know the sun was setting. Silently you watched as Mingyu was trying his hardest to be quiet.

“Where are you going?” Your voice is soft.

Looking back at you he steps closer to the bed. Leaning down he kisses your lips gently. “I just got a text asking to check some emails and seeing if I could help Vernon with some editing for a shoot he did.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Baby don’t worry I’m not leaving you alone. Wonwoo just got home and is in the bathroom.”

“Oh.”

A smile pulls on his lips, “I think he’s showering and you joining him might be the perfect surprise. He’s using his old bathroom with the walk-in shower.” The bathroom connected to the main room you all sleep in is a pretty big shower bath combo.

Another quick kiss is pressed to your lips before he leaves you alone in bed.

Slowly crawling out of bed you are debating on getting dressed. Deciding to be brave you walk down the small hallway to the bathroom naked.

Opening the bathroom door as silently as possible, you step inside. The sight of Wonwoo’s very naked body through the glass is practically mouth watering.

The door clicking shut catches his attention. He looks at you smiling.

“Are you going to join me?” He speaks a little louder to hear him over the water.

Stepping into the shower, he wasted no time pulling you close to him. Pressing his lips to yours for a heated kiss.

“Did Gyu take care of you?”

Your nose rests against his as you say, “yes he did. Are you going to take care of me now?”

“Let me wash your hair.”

Stepping under the warm water Wonwoo takes his time massaging your favorite strawberry shampoo into your scalp. Reaching back, your hand runs across his wet skin.

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

“Maybe?” You smile.

“Baby let me wash your hair and take care of you, and then I will take my time exploring your beautiful body fully.”

He keeps his word. He washes your hair and then takes his time washing your body with your favorite body wash. Once out of the shower he wraps a towel around you before he blow dries your hair.

With lust filled eyes you watch as he dries his own body. Holding his hand out he takes your towel from you leaving you both fully naked.

Stepping into the hallway, you get one step away from him before he wraps his around you pulling you back against him. His hard cock pressing against your lower back. He helps you walk towards the living room holding you close.

You don’t even make it your bedroom. He takes you down to the living room floor. Luckily on top of the soft rug Mingyu made a big deal about buying.

“Baby our first time should be on our comfy bed,” he sighs as you kiss his neck.

“Wonwoo, I want you. You’re the one who dragged me down here.” You say with a soft laugh.

Pulling away from you he stands up. Holding his hand out he helps you stand up. “You can have me. But let me take care of you in bed.” Pulling away from you, he stands up. Holding his hand out, he helps you stand.

Walking into your shared room you crawl on to your unmade bed. Wonwoo joins you, taking his time to kiss his way across your body while he takes his time fingering you. Pulling his finger from your core he smiles at the sight of some of Mingyu’s cum.

“I see Mingyu took advantage of not wearing a condom.” You feel instantly red with embarrassment. Your attempts to close your legs are instantly stopped by him. “Baby, don’t be embarrassed. I like it,” He chuckles. He holds his fingers close to you. Deciding to be brave, you wrap your lips around his finger, taking Mingyu’s release into your mouth. “I see you like it too.”

He takes his time kissing everywhere his mouth can reach. His lips focused on pebbles nipples as his fingers start pumping in and out of you. For your first orgasm, you fall apart moaning his name.

“Baby lay on your side.”

He comes up behind you, rubbing his cock through your folds, gathering your release. He takes your leg, helping you rest your foot on his leg to give him more access to your core.

The hand under your body massages your heavy breast. Ever so slowly he pushes his length into you. He’s definitely larger then the average man, but not as big as Mingyu. The stretch feels absolutely intoxicating.

His hips move into you at a slow but deep pace. The echoing sounds of his low groans, and your moans fill the room.

“Baby can you play with your clit?” He moans in your ear.

Your hand immediately goes to your puffy clit,making quick circles on your sensitive nub. The orgasm that hits you feels like a white wave. Everything feels fuzzy. His thrust pick up, chasing his own release as your walls contract.

His hand grips your hip, pulling you back on him. Tilting your head back he crashes his lips into yours. You moan into his mouth as he kisses you like he needs you to breathe.

He doesn’t pull out, he just holds your body close. Your heart is telling you to say those three words you told Mingyu. Without thinking you say, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I love both of you.”

You don’t have to look back to know he’s smiling. “Did Gyu say he loved you?”

“He whispered it to me.”

“He's been holding back saying that for a month.” He presses his lips to your shoulder. “I need to clean you up but right now I just want to stay inside you.”

“We can stay like this.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Seungcheol decided to throw a little get-together at his place. Wonwoo drove the two of you and Mingyu was coming later.

Wonwoo was in the kitchen talking to Joshua and Seungcheol while you were sitting on the small balcony with Jeonghan drinking a glass of wine.

“Where is your girlfriend?” You asked him.

“She had to work a late shift at the bar.” Jeonghan’s girlfriend works as a bartender at the bar you all frequently meet at downtown.

“I feel like I haven’t seen her in forever. Tell her we should have another wine night.”

Jeonghan smiles before taking a drink of his beer, “I will definitely let her know.”

The sound of laughter through the sliding glass door catches your attention. Looking back you see Wonwoo and Seungcheol laughing about something.

“So did you figure out your crush on Wonwoo?”

“You could say that,” you hadn’t actually told anything about what was going on with the boys. “I’ve kinda started something with him.”

“I think Wonwoo would be good for you.” Jeonghan truly only wants what’s best for you.

The sound of the sliding glass door opening catches your attention. Mingyu is standing over you, smiling.

“Hey Hannie,” he waves to your best friend. “Hi baby,” he leans down pressing his lips to yours for a quick kiss. “Did you need anything to drink?”

“No, I'm good. Thank you though.” You say, holding up your glass of wine.

“I’m gonna chat with the boys inside.”

Jeonghan’s eyes are about bulging out of his head as Mingyu leaves the porch. “Does Wonwoo know you’re kissing Mingyu?”

A heavy sigh passes your lips. Leaning further back into your seat, “yes Wonwoo knows, and before you ask, Mingyu knows about Wonwoo.”

“Are you trying a poly situation?”

“Yeah I guess you could call it that. It started out innocent. We originally used to just cuddle because I can’t sleep and Mingyu gets nightmares.”

A smile forms on Jeonghan’s face, “is it no longer innocent?”

“Hannie,” instantly you roll your eyes.

“Are you fucking both of them now?” He sounds so excited asking you this.

“Yes.”

“Are you having threesomes?”

“Yoon Jeonghan, I’m giving you no details about my sex life.”

The sliding glass door opens and Wonwoo peaks his head out, “come inside, the pizza here is here.”

Standing up you walk inside and Wonwoo instantly pulls you into his chest. He presses his lips to yours for a soft kiss. “The boys know about us and Mingyu.”

“Hannie knows too.”

“That’s good. We have nothing to hide,” he presses his lips to yours for another kiss.

“Baby do you want pizza?” Mingyu asked over at the counter.

“Yes, please.”

Wonwoo stands behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. Leaning back against him you instantly relax.

The night with your friends is nice. It’s rare that everyone gets a chance to hang out. Mingyu takes your hand, leading you out of Seungcheol house. He’s been yawning nonstop for the last hour.

Walking into the apartment, Mingyu heads off to take a shower while Wonwoo heads off to the kitchen. You join Wonwoo in the kitchen. He making a cup of tea.

“Princess, would you like a cup?”

“Yes please.”

“Mingyu seems extra tired tonight,” Wonwoo sighs.

“I think he needs to get some sleep. I think his shoot today was draining.”

After drinking your cup of tea you find Mingyu already curled up in bed and sound asleep. It’s not long before you fall asleep curled up between the boys.

Waking up in the middle of the night the first thing you notice is the room is empty. You’re confused on where both the boys went. Slowly getting up, you walk into the living room and find Wonwoo and Mingyu on the couch together. Mingyu is lying on the couch with his head resting in Wonwoo's lap. Wonwoo is gently brushing his fingers through Mingyu’s dark curls. Mingyu is clearly sleeping fully relaxed resting on Wonwoo.

“Is everything okay?” You whisper walking towards him.

“Gyu had a bad nightmare and I just got him to calm down.” Before you started living with them Mingyu told you that Wonwoo would take care of him after having nightmares. It’s very sweet seeing Mingyu curled up against Wonwoo relaxing.

“Sorry if we woke you up,” Wonwoo says just above a whisper.

“You’re fine. How bad was his nightmare?”

“He woke up crying for the first time in a while. Back in college, they were like this constantly. It got so bad that I had to put a mattress on the floor by his bed. Eventually I would just lay in bed holding his hand while he slept.”

“You both have a special connection.” You aren’t sure if they ever shared a romantic connection before you came around, but it’s clear they both love and deeply care for each other.

“Gyu is my best friend and I would do anything to make him feel better.” Wonwoo continues running his fingers through Mingyu’s hair.

“Do you think we should get him to go back to bed? This can’t be comfortable for you to sleep.” You ask.

Gently Wonwoo rubs Mingyu’s arm. “Gyu, let’s go to bed. Our baby wants to cuddle with you.”

Mingyu’s eyes slowly open. “Can I lay in the middle please?” He sounds as if he’s barely awake.

“Of course.”

Laying in bed Mingyu stares at the ceiling. His breathing is uneven. “Gyu, what’s wrong?” Wonwoo asked, lying on his side facing Mingyu.

“Can you hold me Wonwoo?” A gentle smile tugs at your lips. You love seeing how much they mean to each other.

“Of course. Did you wanna hold princess while I hold you?”

“Yeah.”

Mingyu moves to his side so he’s facing you. Wonwoo curls up behind Mingyu, spooning him. Mingyu let out a soft hum as Wonwoo gently rested his hand on his stomach.

Curling up in front of Mingyu he holds you close. “This is nice,” Mingyu whispers.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Both of your boys were away for the weekend. They both decided to go home to see their families together and you couldn’t help but get lost in your own thoughts as you laid in your bed alone for the first time in forever. You were starting to doubt yourself, you didn’t understand why two men would want to be with you. Let alone two men who looked like them. Glancing over at the clock you saw the time read two in the morning. You weren’t even close to tired anymore.

Lifting the covers, you crawled out of bed and walked off towards your bathroom starting the warm water. You slowly stripped off your clothes and stepped into the water. The warm water engulfed your body, you couldn’t help it as tears started to slide down your cheeks. You were over thinking everything and you knew it. You had a really rough day at work. It was a rare day when you had to go into the office and just anything that could go wrong did go wrong. Your shitty day at work probably wasn’t helping at all. Another thing was you were supposed to start your period any day and that always made you emotional. You ran your hands across your tear stained face and washed away your tears.

You stayed in the shower for what felt like forever before you finally got out. You shut the water off and wrapped a towel around you. As you turned around, you heard the bathroom door open and turned to find Mingyu walking inside looking exhausted.

Suddenly you felt embarrassed by the fact that Mingyu walked into the bathroom to find you crying in the middle of the night.

His soft eyes roamed your face attempting to figure out what was wrong with you. “Baby, what's wrong?” he stepped towards you and wrapped his arms around your basically naked body, pulling you into his chest.

“I just had a rough day, and started over thinking about everything,” you sighed as the tears continued to slide down her cheeks. You felt stupid that you let little things get you down, but you couldn’t help it.

His strong hand gently rubbed your back as he pressed his lips to the top of your head. You closed your eyes and held on to him. You knew you didn’t need to be crying, but you couldn’t help it.

“Where’s Wonwoo?” You murmured, still holding on to him.

He pulled away from you and gave you a small smile, “he’s exhausted. The second we got back, he stripped down to his boxers and got into bed.”

“Oh, okay,” you whispered.

“Baby, what aren’t you telling me?” he had both his hands on your arms, staring at you to figure out what was going on in your head.

“Why do you guys want to be with me? I’m literally nothing special,” you sighed. “Half the time I feel like I’m an emotional wreck.”

He moved his strong hand and gently rested it under your chin and tilted your head up so you were looking at him, “you are so beautiful inside and out. I can’t imagine my life without you, and I’m pretty sure Wonwoo feels the same way.”

“I don’t feel like I’m worthy of the feelings you guys have for me,” you sighed.

“Don’t ever say that,” he leaned forward and pressed his lips gently to your tear stained cheek. “Stop doubting yourself.”

“Why do you put some pajamas on and we’ll crawl into bed with Wonwoo?” He gave you a simple smile. “or if you want you can just take that towel off and crawl into bed,” he smirked slightly.

“I’ll get dressed for bed,” you reached over and picked up your oversized shirt that was on the sink next to where you were standing. Mingyu watched you as you slowly got dressed for bed. He wasted no time lacing his fingers with yours and led you towards your bed. As you got close to the bed you found Wonwoo sound asleep on the far end of the bed. You crawled onto the bed and moved over closer to Wonwoo. His eyes slowly opened and saw you giving him a sad smile.

“Princess, what’s wrong?” he asked, sitting up noticing something was wrong. He looked over at Mingyu who had a concerned look on his face. “Mingyu what's going on?”

“Our girl had a rough day and needs some love.”

Wonwoo didn’t bother responding, he leaned forward and gently connected his lips to yours. His hand rested on your cheek as he stared at you for a moment.

“Why do you guys like me so much?” you whispered.

“I can list a million reasons if you want me to,” he leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours. His hand was resting on your cheek.

Mingyu moved onto the bed and rubbed your back gently before pressing his lips gently to your shirt-covered shoulder.

“Why don’t we all get some sleep princess?” he whispered.

“I think Mingyu has a good idea,” Wonwoo whispered.

Wonwoo laid back down and you curled up against him and he pressed his lips to the top of your head. Mingyu curled up behind you and whispered, “baby we love you so much.”

“Mingyu is right, we love you,” Wonwoo chimed in.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Wonwoo gripped your hips as his own hips thrust into you over and over again. You couldn’t help but moan his name over and over again. Your hands moved to grip the sheets next to your hips. Mingyu had gone to workout, leaving you and Wonwoo alone for a little while, and it didn’t take long before Wonwoo had you naked and on your back.

He sat back on his haunches as his hips thrust into yours over and over again. Your back arched as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

“Wonwoo,” your high pitched moan echoed off the walls.

“Babygirl, let go,” he rasped as he leaned forward. He pressed his lips to your soft stomach as he rolled his hips against yours. You wanted every piece of the man thrusting into you. Everything about him was absolutely intoxicating to you. His skin glistened with sweat as he looked down at you like you were his world.

It only took a few more thrust before he pushed you over the edge. Your walls pulled him in, and he thrust a few more times before he hit his own high. He laid down on the bed next to you and stared at the ceiling as he panted. He looked over at you to see you with a huge smile on your face. If you looked up word bliss in the dictionary, this moment would be found.

“Did you enjoy that?” he asked, reaching over and lacing his fingers with yours.

Silently you nod as you look over at him.

“I hate that I have to leave for a business trip soon. I wish I could just stay here with you and Mingyu.” You hate when the boys have to travel for work, but you never tell them. You always tell them they’ll be back before they know it. “I’m going to miss you baby.”

“I always miss you.”

Leaning over he presses his lips to your. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He pulls away smiling at you.

“Man, Mingyu missed out by going and working out,” he laughed softly.

Before you could respond the door to your room opened and Mingyu walked inside to see you and Wonwoo naked lying in bed. Mingyu pushed his eyebrows together and smiled at the sight in front of him.

“I see I missed the fun,” he walked over and sat down on the bed.

“I got my own workout in,” Wonwoo teased.

“I guess I should stop going to the gym,” Mingyu jokes.”I’m sure Seungcheol would understand if I told him I got a new work plan going. I could tell him all about my new personal trainer who can’t keep her clothes on.” Wonwoo chuckles softly at Mingyu's statement.

“Well if you’re not too tired I’m sure (Y/N) would let you get another workout in,” Wonwoo lifted your hand up and pressed a light kiss to the top of delicate skin on top.

You bit your lip and smiled. You couldn’t believe you were so lucky that two beautiful men seemed to be absolutely in love with you and both wanted to sleep with you.

“Princess, could you go for another round?” Mingyu asked, looking at you.

“I guess,” you joke. Even if you were absolutely exhausted you couldn’t turn down the chance to be with Mingyu. Sex with him is always intense and he like for you to be a pillow princess so he can worship you.

“I’ll give you guys some alone time. I’m in need of a shower,” Wonwoo released your hand and got out of bed.

Mingyu pulled off his shirt and watched as you sat up and leaned against the headboard. Wonwoo walked over and patted Mingyu on the back before heading off to the bathroom. Mingyu reached down and pushed off his sweatpants and his boxers. Hungry eyes traveled up and down his toned body. The sight of his naked body was absolutely mouthwatering. Crawling onto the bed he watched as you laid back down and smiled at him. He moved so he was hovering over you and connected his lips to yours for a passionate kiss.

“I need to stop leaving you and Wonwoo alone,” he rasped with his lips brushing against yours.

“At least he is also giving you alone time with me,” you reached up and rested your hand on his cheek.

“Remind me to thank him for that,” he smiled before pressing his lips to yours again.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

As the clock struck four am Wonwoo pulled himself away from your sleeping form that was curled up next to him. He was attempting to not wake you up, but you were a light sleeper and the second he moved your eyes opened.

“Is it time for you to leave?” You whispered, attempting to not wake Mingyu who was sound asleep next to you. He has a very early flight to catch. He hates that he’s been going on business trips more often recently.

“Yeah baby, my flight is super early. I’ll be back in three days,” he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours for a kiss goodbye. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Please come back safe,” you said as you watched him walk out of your bedroom.

You rolled over and curled up next to Mingyu who hadn’t even woken up. Since you’ve been constantly sharing a bed, Mingyu’s nightmares barely seem to happen now.

Closing your eyes you only got a little more sleep before you woke up again. Laying in bed you curled up close to Mingyu. He had his arm wrapped around you holding your close. You had a big day ahead of you today. While Wonwoo was away and your mother was coming into town. The three of you had talked it out and agreed that you would say you were only dating Mingyu for the time being. You still couldn’t help but be nervous. You hadn’t ever had many of your past partners meet your mother.

Your head was resting on his strong chest as you attempted to go to sleep.

“Baby, are you awake?” he asked as his strong hand gently rubbed your side.

“I can’t sleep,” You whispered.

“Do you maybe wanna take a bubble bath?” he asked, knowing that was one of your favorite ways to relax.

“Mingyu it’s five in the morning,” you glanced over at the alarm clock on the bedside table.

“So,” he didn’t see a problem in you taking a bubble bath.

“Alright let’s take a bubble bath,” you said softly.

Pulling away from Mingyu’s body you slowly got out of bed and followed Mingyu off to the bathroom. Mingyu walked over to the bathtub and started feeling it up with warm water. You reached under the sink and pulled out one of your favorite bath bombs and dropped it into the warm water.

As the water started to rise Mingyu stripped away his boxers and stepped into the warm water. You removed your undies and oversized shirt and stepped in the tub in front of him. You leaned against his bare body and instantly relaxed against his touch. His strong hand rested on your thigh and aimlessly drew circles on your skin.

It was moments like this you were happy that you had Mingyu in your life. He always knew the best ways to calm you down.

“I miss Wonwoo,” you whispered. When this all first started you worried about stating your feelings for the other man, but they both constantly informed you they weren’t competing for your love. You were allowed to love both of them equally.

“I miss Wonwoo too, baby.” Wonwoo was truly Mingyu's other half. They shared a bond like you have never seen before. You feel as if they’re soulmates and we’re always supposed to be in each other's lives.

Leaning your head back you rested your head against Mingyu’s shoulder. You were exhausted but so nervous about tomorrow you couldn't sleep.

You knew you don’t need to be nervous. You weren’t telling your mother that you were involved with both Wonwoo and Mingyu, you were only telling her about Mingyu.

“If Wonwoo was here would all of us fit in this tub?” His words caused you to smile.

“I guess it would have been a relaxing night time shower then,” you lightly laughed.

He pressed his lips to the side of your neck for a gentle kiss and you couldn’t help but smile. His touch was so relaxing to you.

“Are you worried your mom isn’t going to like me?” Mingyu couldn’t lie, he was nervous your mother wasn’t going to like him. When they agreed that you would tell your family you were only dating one of them,he had originally thought Wonwoo would be the one saying he was the boyfriend. Everyone always seemed to be drawn to Wonwoo, he was charming and people loved him. Wonwoo and you both agreed that it should be Mingyu though for some reason.

“I know my mom is gonna love you. I just don’t like the idea of not telling her about Wonwoo, but she wouldn’t understand,” you reached down and laced your fingers with Mingyu’s hand that was under the water.

“Maybe after we have been together for a while, we can tell her about Wonwoo,” he said, knowing eventually you would need to tell your family about Wonwoo. Neither of you wanted to hide Wonwoo. He wasn’t a dirty little secret or anything like that. You love him just as much as you love Mingyu.

“Yeah I like that idea,” you said with a smile.

You sat in the warm bath for probably half an hour, talking about little things. When you got out you were barely awake. Mingyu helped dry you off then he took your handed leading you to bed, curled up under the covers soon you both quickly fell asleep.

When your mother met Mingyu she couldn’t help but be charmed by the man with curly hair and golden skin. When she first arrived, Mingyu was so nervous he didn’t even know what to say. It didn’t take long before you and your mother were laughing at one of his stories from his childhood. Your mother seemed to love Mingyu and when you walked her out to her car she kissed Mingyu on the cheek and told him to take care of her daughter.

You sat in the kitchen waiting for Wonwoo to come home. His business trip was over and he was supposed to be walking through that door at any moment. You missed him dearly and couldn’t wait for him to come home. Mingyu was off taking a shower, he had asked you to join him, but you told him you didn’t want to be in the shower when Wonwoo walked through the door.

It was pretty early in the morning and you let out a yawn. You walked over to the coffee pot and started to make some coffee for you and the boys. As you turned the coffee pot on you heard the front door open. Turning around you found Wonwoo walking in, limping. Your eyes went wide and suddenly you panicked,rushing over to Wonwoo who seemed to be moving slower than normal. He dropped his duffle bag and wrapped his arms around you as you buried your face in his chest. Leaning down he pressed his lips to the top of your head.

“Wonwoo are you alright?” You asked, worried about him.

“Yeah babygirl I’m fine. I’m just a little sore, I definitely overworked myself when I was working out last night at the hotel with Joshua.”

“You had me really worried for a moment,” you sighed.

“I’m fine you don’t have to worry about me,” he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours for a soft kiss. “How did Mingyu meeting your mother go?”

“It went great, my mom loved him,” you couldn’t help but smile thinking about how great things went with your mom. “Maybe after we’ve been together a while longer we can introduce you to her as well.”

Leaning up once again you pressed your lips to his. Wrapping your arms around him, you deepen the kiss. You had missed Wonwoo so much. You grabbed his hand and led him off to your that has now become the shared bedroom for all of you.

You walked him over to your bed and reached down for the bottom of your shirt and pulled it off. Wonwoo had truly missed you, but he didn’t expect this greeting when he arrived home. He reached to pull off his own shirt and groaned at the soreness.

“Wonwoo, are you okay?” You asked worried about how hurt he actually was.

“Yeah baby, I’m fine,” he pulled his shirt off the rest of the way and worked on getting his shoes off. “Me and Joshua did a boxing match at the hotel gym I forgot that Shua is stronger than he looks.”

You took this as your chance to remove your pale blue pajama bottoms. He pushed his sweat pants down and boxers and he stood there naked in front of you. Taking his glasses off, he sits them on the dresser. You reached up and softly connected your lips to his for a gentle kiss. You missed him so much, you hated when you had to spend time apart.

Lancing your fingers with his you led him towards the bed. Wonwoo laid down on your unmade bed and you reached over and pumped his hardened length a few times. You had desperately missed the feeling of his skin. Slowly you crawled into the bed, and lined his erection up with your entrance. There is no time for foreplay. You’ve missed him too much. After the first few thrusts, you’ll adjust to his size. You slowly sank down on his length.

You gasped as you bottomed out on his length and Wonwoo let out a breathy moan. He had missed you so much and he loved you so much he couldn’t get enough of you. Slowly you moved yourself against him.

Mingyu walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of you on top of Wonwoo. Both Wonwoo and you looked over at Mingyu and gave him a small smile. You continued to ride Wonwoo as Mingyu acted like nothing was going on and worked on grabbing some boxers out of the dresser. It didn’t take long before Wonwoo and you both hit your highs. Wonwoo paints your walls white as he grips your hips.

Crawling off him, you laid down next to him. Mingyu leaned against the wall and smiled at the two of you who were both trying to catch your breath. Mingyu walks into the bathroom and comes back holding a washcloth. Tapping your thigh he signals for you to open your legs. Ever so gently he cleans up his best friend's release that is already dropping out of you.

“Thank you,” Wonwoo sighs.

“Wonwoo what’s up with the bruise?” Mingyu asked, noticing Wonwoo’s bruised skin.

“Me and Shau did a practice boxing match at the hotel gym last night.”

Mingyu let out a soft laugh, “she’s the best kind of medicine.” He walked over and crawled into bed next to you and curled up next to you.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“You know, when I pictured going on a double date with you and your future boyfriend I never imagined it would be with my dorky gamer friend,” Jeonghan teases sitting across from the table. Wonwoo lets out a laugh as his hand rest on your thighs.

“Hannie,” his girlfriend says, slapping his arm.

“Where is your guy’s other boyfriend?” It’s not unusual for Jeonghan to refer to Mingyu as both of your boyfriends. Wonwoo never corrects anyone. Neither does Mingyu when people call Wonwoo his. That might be because they're in a relationship together as much as they are with you. They’ve never done anything really romantic except cuddle and hold hands from what you know. But even if they had it wouldn’t change anything. You would fully embrace it if they wanted to be intimate together.

“He’s in Japan for a video shoot,” Wonwoo says.

“What have you two been up to?” You're attempting to change the subject of your relationship.

“So we asked you guys if you wanted to meet up because I’m moving,” Jeonghan’s girlfriend statement catches you off guard.

“Are you moving too Jeonghan?”

“No, she is moving to England.”

The table is suddenly silent as you process what you’re being told. They’ve been together for a really long time. It’s insane that now they would do long distance.

“Are you going to do long distance?” Wonwoo asked exactly what you were thinking.

“No, we actually broke up two weeks ago. I’m going to stay with Jeonghan for another week before I move.”

Looking up at your best friend you can see the sadness in his eyes. He’s no longer smiling as he stares at the table.

“Hannie, are you okay?” You wish you didn’t find out right now. You wish he would have told you sooner so you could be there for him.

“I’ll be okay.”

The whole dinner felt like a blur. You all made small talk and you couldn’t help but focus on Jeonghan who seemed like he was trying to be happy.

Standing in the parking lot you say goodbye to Lana before she walks off to Jeonghan’s car. Wonwoo gives you a kiss before he says he’ll meet you in the car. He knows you need a moment with your best friend.

Jeonghan puts his hands in his pocket and sighs.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t told anyone. I wasn’t really sure how to process this. Hell, I was just getting ready to buy her a ring.”

Stepping forward you pull him into a hug. He’s stiff for a moment before he relaxes resting his cheek on top of your head. “I’ll be okay. Once she moves I’ll be able to fully process this.”

“If you need anything you can call me, any time of the day or night.”

He pulls away from you and smiles. “I’ll be okay. How about once she’s gone we can get dinner and ice cream.”

“Ice cream to heal your heart?”

“Yes, to heal my heart.”

“Please call me,” you step back.

“I will. Now go spend time with your gamer boyfriend. Something tells me he’s looking forward to one on one time.”

Walking over to Wonwoo’s car you can’t help but feel sad for your best friend. Sliding into the passenger seat, Wonwoo watches you.

“I had no clue they broke up. I had been pushing him to take the next step with her.”

“I know he’s sad, but Jeonghan is a good guy and he’ll find the perfect person for him.” He rests his large hand on your thigh before giving it a squeeze. “How about we go back to our place and cuddle on the couch and watch a movie?”

Walking into the house Wonwoo and you head off to the master bedroom. You both decided to get dressed for bed. Wonwoo puts on a pair of lounge pants that sit low on his hips and you opt to only wear a baggy shirt and a pair of panties.

Curled up on the couch you just want to be close to Wonwoo. His arm is wrapped around you. His large hand rests on your soft stomach.

You can barely focus on the movie. You’re only focused on his hand that has started gently kneading the flesh on your stomach.

“Wonwoo?”

“Yeah baby?”

“Thank you for loving me.”

“You were so incredibly easy to fall in love with.”

Gently he presses his lips to your shoulder.

“You were the missing piece in both me and Mingyu’s life.”

There is a long moment of silence. “You two truly made me so comfortable in my own skin again.”

“Baby you’re beautiful inside and out.” His hand that is resting on your stomach gently squeezes your flesh.

“I feel so much more confident in myself.” This didn’t happen overnight and being with the boys didn’t suddenly give you confidence. It took baby steps to get here but you finally feel so comfortable and happy in your own skin. For the first time in your life, you truly feel sexy.

You also finally feel happy and there isn’t a sadness lingering over you. That’s because of a healthy and loving relationship and the help of therapy along the way.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You, and the boys glided through the crowded party. Your hand was holding Mingyu’s strong hand tightly. He led you away from the party to his old room at Seungcheol’s house. At one point in time both your boys lived with Seungcheol here. Wonwoo followed right behind. You snuck off upstairs away from the crowd as everyone was ringing in the new year. The moment the door was opened he pressed you against the wall and moved his lips down your neck. Wonwoo slowly walked in behind you. Mingyu seemed to be way more eager than Wonwoo was. Wonwoo walked over and sat down on the bed and watched as Mingyu’s hungry lips moved down the base of your neck as his hands worked on getting your dress off. Mingyu groaned at the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra. He removed your dress leaving you only in undies and your black high heels, your soft body on full display. He stepped away and worked on getting his own clothes off.

You looked over Mingyu’s shoulder to find Wonwoo sitting on the bed watching with a smile on his face. He seemed amused by what was playing out in front of him. Wonwoo tended to watch and direct you both from the sidelines before taking his turn or joining in.

You reached down and removed your heels and undies as Mingyu stripped off the rest of his clothing. The second he was naked he gave himself a few strokes, he connected his lips to yours and dipped his fingers into your core to give you some foreplay as his lips moved against yours in a hungry kiss. You moaned into the kiss at the feeling of his fingers circling your sensitive nub. You pulled your lips away from his and moaned his name loudly. He took this as his cue and lifted your soft body up like you weighed nothing. He thrust into you in one quick motion. Your hands gripped his back as he pressed you against the wall as he slid into you over and over again. The angle he was hit with each thrust had you seeing stars.

You couldn’t help but moan with every thrust. You held on to him tightly as he worked at a quick pace. Looking over at the bed you found Wonwoo biting his bottom lip as he palmed himself through his dress pants.

Mingyu’s lips moved to the side of your neck where he left a trail of wet kisses. He groaned against your skin as he was getting close to his high. It only took two more thrust before he pushed you over the edge. You rode out your high as he thrust a few more times before finishing inside you.

“Wonwoo,” you whispered as Mingyu sat you back down on your feet. Pushing your legs together you feel his cum start to slowly drip out if you. He stood up and started unbuttoning his shirt. He could tell by your tone what you wanted. With your legs slightly wobbly you walked over to Wonwoo who was standing next to the bed removing his dress shirt. You stood in front of him for a second before you leaned up and pressed your lips to his.

Mingyu walked over and sat down on the chair by the window still coming down from his own high. Despite how much he wanted to get in on the action, he wanted to give you and Wonwoo some time to yourselves. There were times that you would have sex all together, but they also liked to give each other their alone time with you.

You reached between Wonwoo and you and undid his belt and buttons on his pants. He was the only one in the room still wearing clothes. It didn’t take long before Wonwoo’s clothes were on the floor and he moved to the bed.

Your soft body was sitting on his hips as he lay underneath you. Your hands rested on his chest and you moved your body slowly up and down his length. Mingyu sat silently on the chair for a little while, before he got up and moved over to the bed. He leaned over and started placing wet kisses across your shoulder as you rode Wonwoo like your life depended on it. You tilted your head back and moaned.

“Gyu play with her clit,” Wonwoo was good at giving Mingyu directions in bed. Mingyu will always fully listen to whatever his best friend asks him to do.

Mingyu pressed himself against you rubbing his already hardening length against your ass as his hand dipped between your folds. Rubbing your clit as Wonwoo raises his hips to meet you. Mingyu can’t take his lips off the side of your neck.

“Fuck-“ you brain feels like it’s filled with static. With zero coherent thoughts.

“I think we need a new position. Princess is short circuiting,” Wonwoo teases below you.

“What position do you want?” Mingyu asked, still toying with your sensitive clit.

“We don’t have lube so I don’t think she can take me in her ass right now without it and she definitely can’t take you.” He’s not wrong, both of your boyfriends are big, but Mingyu is absolutely huge. Wonwoo dick is the perfect size for you, and sometimes it takes a little extra work to make it comfortable for you to be able to take Mingyu. When it comes to anal, most the time Wonwoo is the only one allowed to fuck your ass. You’ve taken Mingyu a few times but it stresses him out and you're definitely in pain the next day. Even though the man is obsessed with your ass. He knows when it comes to anal that Wonwoo is the best option.

“Baby how do you feel about sucking off Mingyu while I take you from behind?”

“Please.”

Wonwoo helps you get on your hands and knees. His hands massage the flesh of your ass as he runs his length through your folds.

Taking Mingyu large cock in your hand you start working your hand up and down his length.

“Baby spit on it,” Wonwoo moans.

Opening your mouth you spit onto his length just like Wonwoo asked.

Wonwoo pushes into your quickly earning a moan. One hand rests on Mingyu thigh helping to support yourself while you lean down to take him hard cock in your mouth. With his size you can’t fully take him but he’s okay with that. His hand is holding your hair back from your face as you bob your head, taking him past your gag reflex. Wonwoo’s hands are gripping your hips as he snaps his hips into yours over and over again.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Wonwoo groans.

“Baby-” Mingyu whimpers.

You aren’t sure how long you can last like this. Wonwoo’s pace is fast and he’s brushing just the right spot that has you seeing stars. Pulling off Mingyu’s dick, you whimper, looking back at Wonwoo who seems completely lost in the moment.

“You’re doing so good baby, taking care of me and Gyu.”

Leaning back down, you take Mingyu’s cock in your mouth again. He groans, leaning his head back. His body feels tense under your touch. His whimpers let you know he’s close.

“Gyu if you’re going to come in her mouth, ask princess for permission.” Wonwoo sometime like to be in charge in the bedroom and you and your other boyfriend won’t ever complain.

“Baby where can I finish?” Mingyu practically whines.

Popping off him, some saliva is attached from his cock to your mouth. “In my mouth.”

“I’m close.” He whines.

Leaning back down you start sucking him off like your life depends on it. Wonwoo makes you moan when he reaches in between your legs and starts playing with your sensitive clit.

Your orgasm hits you like a train. Moaning around Mingyu length he fills your mouth with his cum. Pulling off of him with a pop, you fall forward resting your head on his thigh as Wonwoo pace gets quicker.

“Fuck-” you moan.

“Fuck-” Wonwoo’s hips still as his finds his own release. Filling you to the brim with milky white release.

Wonwoo slowly removes himself from you. He crawls off the bed as Mingyu sets you up in his lap. He runs his fingers through your hair as he presses his lips to yours for a gentle kiss. He could care less that he can taste himself on your lips.

Both the boys have left you fucked out and exhausted.

“I love you both,” you smiled, feeling dazed in pure bliss. Wonwoo crawled back onto the bed lying down next to you and Mingyu.

“We love you too, babygirl,” Mingyu leaned down and kissed your cheek.

Wonwoo silently laid there with a huge smile on his face.

“I think we wore Wonwoo out,” Mingyu jokes.

He closed his eyes and nodded his head with a huge smile on his face.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Your first anniversary was a major milestone you were looking forward to. Initially,you wanted to plan something for the boys. Before you could even think of anything, Wonwoo informed you to just let them plan something.

Your night started at a romantic dinner at a fancy sushi place you have always wanted to try. Mingyu even picked out a dress and lingerie he wanted you to wear. When you walked out of the bedroom in the skin tight dress Mingyu picked out, you weren’t even sure you would leave the house at the way both the boys were eye fucking you. Hell if they wanted to spend the whole night having sex you wouldn’t complain.

The dinner was absolutely perfect and when you got home they took their time undressing you before worshiping every ounce of your body.

Laying on top of Mingyu, your pussy rubs against his hardened length. His fingers are tangled in your hair as he kisses you. Wonwoo is behind you watching as he’s getting the stuff he needs to prep you to take him in your ass.

A cold dollop of lube lands on your tight ring of muscle. Pulling your lips away from Mingyu you look over you shoulder to find Wonwoo smirking at you as his thumb applies some pressure to your asshole.

“Oh-” you moan.

“Does princess want to take both of us at the same time tonight?” His thumb fully slips into your ass.

“Please-” this is a rare treat taking them both at the same time. You’ve done it a handful of times and you want to do it more, it just takes more prep than normal.

“Gyu can you put it in and just let her cockwarm you while I finger her? She needs extra prep tonight.” Wonwoo isn’t necessarily bossy in the bedroom, and doesn’t try to dom either of you. But he’s really good at being in charge and giving you both directions.

“Baby can you slowly take me in?” Mingyu asked.

Silently you lift your hips. Mingyu helps, holding his length at your entrance. Ever so slowly you slide down his huge length. You already feel full, and you don’t have anything in your ass yet.

Wonwoo’s finger slides into your ass slowly. “Mingyu keep her relaxed. Kiss her, do whatever you need to do to make sure our princess is relaxed.” This isn’t the norm in the bedroom. When you do take both of them at the same time it takes some patience from everyone.

Tangling his fingers in your hair he pulls your lips down to his. The kiss is sloppy, filled with lots of tongue. Your brain feels scrambled trying to focus on the second finger Wonwoo has in your ass, and the feeling of Mingyu snug inside you.

“You’re such a good girl,” Wonwoo’s large hand massages your fleshy butt cheek. “Are you ready for me?”

“Yes.” You pull away from Mingyu mouth.

Wonwoo grabs the bottle of lube and takes his time coating his erection. Mingyu’s lips are on your breast, helping distract you.

The initial feeling of Wonwoo pushing into your ass is always a little uncomfortable. The stretching feeling takes some time to get used to. A soft whimper passes your lips, capturing Mingyu’s attention. He takes your face with both hands. His thumb drags across your bottom lip, earning a smile.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispers, almost as if you’re alone in the room.

“It feels intense.”

Wonwoo bottoms out and stills, giving you time to adjust. “Baby do you need me to stop?” Wonwoo snaps you out of the little haze you were in.

“No, I just need a moment.”

His hand rubs up and down the small of your back helping you relax. “You’re so good at this baby. You’re absolutely perfect.”

“You’re just saying that because I like to let you both double team me.” You can’t help but tease.

Mingyu smiles instantly at your words. “That’s just a bonus baby.”

“You both can move. Just please go slow.”

Mingyu stays completely still, letting Wonwoo get in a few shallow thrust. Wonwoo’s large hands grip your sides, helping steady himself.

“Gyu move-“ You whine.

Mingyu thrust up into you the best he can from below you. You try to help, but Wonwoo is holding you in place. The feeling of both them filling you up fully isn’t something you can fully comprehend.

Your brain feels like mush and you can’t think of anything other to say than moans and whine a mix of their names, and curse words.

Wonwoo bends over, completely plastered against your back. His lips are your shoulder sucking marks into your skin. One of his hands reaches around you and starts rubbing quick circles against your clit.

You’ve been teetering on the edge for what feels like hours. Every muscle in your body feels tense. There is a pressure building inside you that you can’t quite explain.

The moment your orgasm hits you, it feels like an explosion. You cry out as all the tension releases and your body releases a liquid all over Mingyu below you. This is a first for all of you.

Your arms give out and you collapse on Mingyu. He moans your name before he fills you with milky white cum. Wonwoo hasn’t stopped thrusting into you. He’s changed his position slightly. He’s still thrusting into you over and over again, pushing you against Mingyu who is still snug inside you. His softening cock is plugging up his cum from leaking out.

Wonwoo gives you three firm thrusts before filling your ass with his own release.

Pulling out slowly he rolls onto the bed next to you and Mingyu. Mingyu has done nothing to try and remove himself from you. His hand brushes your hair away from your face.

No one says anything for a long moment. Mingyu is the first to speak. “Did you squirt on me?” Your body burns with embarrassment suddenly.

“She did, it turns out taking both of us and playing with her clit will make her.” Wonwoo says.

“That’s so embarrassing.” You sigh.

“That was the exact opposite of embarrassing. That was fucking hot.” Mingyu smiles.

“We’re gonna need to clean the sheets before we go to bed.” Wonwoo says. Of course your neat freak boyfriend is thinking about changing the cheats after he’s made you squirt on Mingyu.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Sitting on the floor in the bathroom you mind raced. Your emotions were all over the place and your brain fought with the feeling of sadness, happiness and guilt. The dinging on your phone let you know that five minutes had passed letting you know that it was time.

Reaching up on the counter you looked at the two pink stripes on the stick that let you know that you were indeed pregnant. Most women would be over the moon to find out they were pregnant, but you couldn’t help but feel guilty. You had never discussed having children with Wonwoo and Mingyu and you honestly had no clue who the father was. You were on birth control and neither of the boys used condoms anymore.

The sound of knocking on the bathroom door caught your attention. Before you could even dispose of the pregnancy test Wonwoo walked into the bathroom. His mouth opened to say something but immediately shut as he looked at the pregnancy test that was in your hands.

“Princess are you okay?” He asked, sitting down on the floor next to you.

Quietly you shook your head and looked into his warm eyes. You wonder if the baby is his if they’ll get his beautiful lips or warm eyes.

“What does it say?” He rested his hand on your thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I’m pregnant,” your voice shook as admitted it out loud for the first time.

“Why are you sad about that?”

You took a deep breath wondering what exactly you should say, “we never talked about having children and I don’t know which one of you is the father.”

A look of confusion crossed his face as he reached for your soft body. Without a second thought he pulled you into his lap. You sat on his lap and rested your head on his strong chest. A sigh pasted your lips as your eyes brimmed with tears. His hand rubbed your side and his lips pressed to the top of your head. He took a long moment just holding you. He wanted to comfort you, but he knew you were mentally going through a lot processing the fact that you knew you were pregnant.

“It doesn’t matter who the father is. We both love you and no matter what, and we’ll raise this child together with you,” he murmured as his hand continued to rub your side. “If the baby is mine I’ll love it with all my heart, and if it’s Mingyu I’m still going to love it the same way. No matter who the father is, Mingyu and I will be that baby’s dads together.”

Glancing up at him you found him smiling. He seemed to be happy about the fact that you were pregnant. A small sense of relief started to wash over you at the fact that he wasn’t worried about the fact you didn’t know who the father was.

Sniffling back tears, you asked, “do you think Mingyu is going to be okay with me being pregnant?”

Wonwoo and Mingyu were in very different places in their lives mentally. Wonwoo was pretty well adapted to what he wanted in life, and Mingyu was still trying to figure out what he fully wanted with his life. His dream of pursuing directing was something that always stopped him from settling down before you.

“Mingyu’s always longed for a family in the city, and the sense of having a home here, and starting a family with you is something that he needs.”

A warm feeling in your chest let you know that everything was going to be alright. That things between you and the two boys weren’t exactly normal in the eyes of society, but what you had was perfect to them.

“Mingyu should be home from working out anytime, do you want to tell him?” Wonwoo asked.

You gently nodded your head and crawled out his lap. He stood up and reached his hand out to help you stand up. The moment you were standing he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours for a sweet kiss. Pulling his lips away from yours he wrapped his arms around your curvy torso and hugged you. His hand rubbed your back and he whispered, “there is no other woman I would rather have a child with, and there is no other person I would rather share being a father with than my best friend.”

Pulling away you looked up at him and couldn’t help smiling. The sound of the bedroom door opening caught your attention. Wonwoo reached down and grabbed the pregnancy test and handed it to you and smiled.

You walked out of the bathroom to find a shirtless Mingyu looking through his drawer in one of the dressers. He turned around and his eyes immediately went to you and noticed your eyes were puffy in the aftermath of your tears.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Mingyu asked.

Without a word you held out the pregnancy test. Silently he stepped forward and grabbed the pregnancy test, his wide eyes stayed locked on the pregnancy test. You couldn’t help but be worried about the look on Mingyu’s face. His dark eyes were wild for a long moment before he looked up at you and instantly his expression softened.

Wonwoo stood next to you holding your hand, he knew that all of this was scary for you.

“You’re pregnant?” Mingyu asked, finally breaking the silence that had grown so loud between all of you.

Slowly you nodded not sure what to say.

“I’m assuming we don’t know who the dad is?” He asked not actually caring who the father was.

Shaking your head, you tried not to cry. “The way I see it, it doesn’t matter who the father is. We’re both fathers to this baby,” Mingyu reached out resting his hand on your stomach. His response warmed your heart and you smiled.

“Told you he would be happy,” Wonwoo leaned down and pressed his lips to the top of your head.

“I’m finally going to have a little family of my own,” he walked towards you and wrapped his arms around your soft torso pulling you into a tight hug. “I love you so much babygirl.”

Stepping back you looked over at Wonwoo who had a really big smile on his face. Both boys seemed genuinely happy that they were going to have a child. You had gone from feeling sad and guilty to suddenly overjoyed that you were going to be starting a family with the two boys who you loved and adored.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Your hand rested on your growing stomach. As you sat on the large couch that was in the middle of your living room. You leaned against Wonwoo while your feet were resting in Mingyu’s lap. Strong hands massage your feet as your eyes are held closed enjoying the closeness with the boys.

Without saying a word you reached for the pillow on the floor and laid it down in Wonwoo’s lap. He couldn’t help but smile as you moved to lay your head down in his lap while Mingyu massaged your feet.

From the moment they discovered you were pregnant both the boys had gone out of their way to make sure you were treated like a princess. Both them were over the moon that you were expecting a child.

Recently your hormones have been all over the place. You went from wanting to cry to wanting to tear the boy’s clothing off with your teeth.

“Baby, are you tired?” Wonwoo asked as he rubbed your arm gently.

“I’m exhausted every moment of my life right now,” you let out a soft laugh. “Carrying this baby takes all my energy.”

Reached up, Wonwoo gently rested his hand on your round stomach. It still amazes him that either Mingyu or him had created a life with you. He couldn’t wait to see if the baby was going to look like you or either him or his best friend.

“You look so beautiful carrying our baby.”

“You two are lucky you’re charming and good looking because this baby takes all my energy,” you teased.

“We’re sorry the baby is making you tired,” Mingyu said, speaking up.

Leaning over Mingyu placed a sweet kiss on your knee.

“I’m supposed to be cooking dinner for your birthday Mingyu.”

Wonwoo looked down at you shaking his head smiling, “It’s cute you think that you’re cooking dinner.”

In the last two months as you crossed over from your second trimester to your third. The boys were letting you do less and less. You had originally planned to cook the boys an amazing dinner for Mingyu’s birthday but both the boys kept shutting you down.

“If I don’t cook, who is going to cook?”

“We are more than capable of cooking dinner for us,” Mingyu gently squeezed your foot. You looked at him and tried not to laugh at his comment. “Don’t be rude,” he gently squeezed your foot one last time.

“So Princess, have you figured out if you want to find out if we’re having a boy or a girl?” Wonwoo asked, attempting to change the subject.

You were still trying to decide if you wanted to know if you were having a boy or a girl. Since finding out you were pregnant you had gone back and forth on if you wanted to find out.

“I mean I still don’t know. Maybe the gender can be a surprise along with figuring out who the dad is,” you tried to joke about the situation that still made you feel guilty.

Wonwoo leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead. His touch was gentle as if he was trying to calm you.

“We both have told you over and over it doesn’t matter who the father is. This is both of our baby,” Wonwoo's voice was warm and calming.

“He’s right,” Mingyu said, speaking up.

“I know I just feel…” you paused trying to gather your words. You slowly sat up and took your feet off of Mingyu’s lap and sat in between both the boys. “It’s just an odd feeling. I feel like I’m breaking one of your hearts.”

“Hey,” Mingyu reaches over and rested his hand on your cheek and gently twisting your head so you’re looking at him. “No one is upset here or hurt. You mean the world to both of us and we both love you and the baby equally. It doesn’t matter who the biological father is. We don’t even have to ever find out if you don’t want to.”

Your eyes were locked on his kind dark colored eyes. Slowly you blinked for a moment before you leaned forward for a sweet kiss.

“I don’t think I want to find out,” you whispered, feeling a sense of relief wash over you.

“Then we don’t find out,” Wonwoo answered.

“If you want, maybe after this one grows up a little bit we can try to have another one. Say this little you’re carrying now is mine, we have to focus on making the next baby Mingyu’s if they makes you happy.”

“Does that mean one of you boys would have to wear a condom every time?”

“Yeah and we would be fine with that,” Mingyu chimes in.

“Thank you boys.”

You put your feet up on the coffee table and reached over and took both of their hands. You knew nothing about their lives were normal but wouldn’t change your life for the world. You would never know how you ended up lucky enough to have two wonderful men in your life. Or how you were lucky enough to start a family with them.

~&~

Standing in the living room you watched as Mingyu held your daughter. He gently swayed side to side singing softly to the little girl who stole his heart. It was very clear early on into her life that Wonwoo was the father to your little girl. She looked so much like him it was hard to deny.

You and Wonwoo had just returned from the store and hadn’t expected to find Mingyu dancing with his daughter. You couldn’t help the smile that is plastered on your face as you watch them.

“Is that how Mingyu calms her down?”you asked looking up at Wonwoo.

“When I dance she doesn’t giggle like that,” Wonwoo acted as if he was offended even though he wasn’t. Wonwoo absolutely adores how much his daughter loves Mingyu. He couldn’t be happier that he’s getting to experience fatherhood with his best friend.

“Look mommy and daddy are home,” Mingyu says walking over towards you.

“Did she behave?” You asked as you walked closer to Mingyu and your daughter.

“This little girl was a complete angel while you were away,” he winked before he pressed his lips to the top of his daughter's head.

Your daughter says, “dada,” clinging to her other father. Mingyu lights up every time his daughter calls him that.

In all the time you had been with Mingyu and Wonwoo things between the three of you just kept getting better. The addition of your daughter seemed to bring all of you closer than you had ever been before and none of you thought that was possible.

Wonwoo heads off to the kitchen to put some of the groceries away. You stood in the living room staring at Mingyu for a moment before he handed you your daughter. You’ll never get over how completely perfect your little girl is. Holding your daughter close, you press your lips to the top of her head. Swaying to the beat of the music you hummed along to the song. It’s not long before your little girl is sound asleep in your arms.

“I should probably put her down for a nap,” you say quietly.

Walking off to her nursery you lays her down in her crib and press your lips to her forehead before slowly leaving her room.

Walking back into the living room you find Wonwoo and Mingyu sitting down on the couch. You smile as you sit down between them.

“I don’t want to brag but I personally think we made the perfect baby,” you state proudly.

Mingyu shrugs and lets out a chuckle, “I mean you aren’t wrong. I think our next one will be just as perfect.” It still stings a little that Mingyu is gonna to have to wait a little while to have a child that is biologically his.

You both look at Wonwoo who is smiling. He lets out a soft laugh of his own before saying, “I’m aware our daughter is beautiful. She looks like her mother. She was bound to be stunning.”

Biting your bottom lip you hold back a smile as blush crept across your cheeks. You’ll never get over the fact that both boys are so attracted to you, and how much you love your life with them.

“I love you both,” you beams.

“And we love you,” Mingyu says as he leans over and presses his lips to your shoulder.

It’s moments like this that make you feel like your life is perfect, and you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

FOUR YEARS LATER -

Jeonghan’s birthday party is always an event. His house is filled with friends celebrating. Things have changed since you’ve had kids. House parties have now become family friendly events.

Jeonghan’s girlfriend of two years Honey looks like she has a serious case of baby fever as she holds your son. At only six months old he’s just as charming as Mingyu.

Mingyu is with Wonwoo in the kitchen helping your daughter get something to eat.

“My godson just looks like a mini version of Mingyu,”

Jeonghan laughs.

“I sure made some cute kids.”

“I would usually joke being like, are you sure you know who the dads are, but your daughter is the perfect mix of you and Wonwoo. And that little one is just a mini Gyu.” He’s not wrong, your daughter definitely looks like both you and Wonwoo and you aren’t sure if you just didn’t clone Mingyu at this point. There was absolutely no denying he’s the father of your son.

“So does Honey want kids?”

“About that-“ Jeonghan watches his girlfriend with a smile on his face. “We think she might be pregnant.”

“Does that mean I finally get to be a godmother?”

He rolls his eyes, “yes you get to be a godmother.”

“Mommy,” your daughter screams running towards you holding an ice cream bar.

Wonwoo is hot on her trail. He picks her up before she can launch herself into your arms. “Dada gave me ice cream,” she looks over her shoulder at Mingyu who is smiling walking towards you.

“I said wait for dinner but Mingyu out voted me.” Wonwoo says. Mingyu is an absolute softie when it comes to his daughter. She has him wrapped around her tiny little finger.

“Daddy said no.” Your daughter pouts.

“Gyu,” you can’t help but laugh.

“It's Hannie’s birthday. I said since it’s her godfather's birthday she could have a treat.”

“I say let the kid have ice cream,” Jeonghan chimes in.

“Fine,” Wonwoo rolls his eyes.

There is something special about seeing the boys be amazing fathers. They love their kids so much, they also love you just as much.

Wonwoo leans in, pressing lips to his daughter's forehead. She pulls back giggling before pressing her lips to her father’s nose. Holding her arms out she reaches for her other father. Mingyu wasted no time taking her from his arms. Mingyu walks her back towards the kitchen to get a napkin.

Wonwoo walks closer to you. He smiles before pressing his lips to your.

“So is there a third one coming at any point? Are we going to play another guessing game of ‘guess who the father is’?” Jeonghan always likes to tease you about the fact you weren’t sure when you were pregnant with your daughter about who the father was.

“Right now we’re good with two? But who knows maybe one day me and Mingyu will play a game called, Who-Can-Knock-Up-Our-Wife-First.” Wonwoo says, earning a laugh from Jeonghan.

“We’re good with two right now.” You respond.

Life has a strange way of working out. Who would have known taking that taking that new job all those years and go to live near Jeonghan would lead you to this perfect life you’re now living.

If you have asked to be tagged I request that you please reblog. If you could leave comments and or tags that would be greatly appreciated.

[keferon]

Funny thing I noticed:

Jazz's beanie is big, like, too big to be normal.

Wouldn't it be funny if the beanie was actually something given to Jazz as something from a fan?

Like, the aquarium opened an event to let fans give presents to the mer (Jazz, Blurr and whatever other mer they had there) and then (after an obvious filter in what could be gave to them) there is this giant ass handmade beanie that Jazz just saw and went 'Yep, that's mine, look, it's me coded' and never took off.

OH YEAH! Kind of yes! There was one girl (one of their regulars) obsessed with ocean life who noticed that Jazz had some scratches and bruises on his head so another time she bought a front row ticket and threw her beanie at Jazz during the performance.

He was still a somewhat human-sized teenager back then, doing cool stunts and tricks and stuff and then BAM. A brand new hat falls on him haha~

After some time he grew out of it (Cause orcas are HELLA BIG). He couldn’t wear it and he couldn’t really keep it and didn’t want to gust throw it away so he waited for her to visit the aquarium and threw it back to her hehe

She went >:O !!!

And then proceeded to crochet a new hat. This time big orca sized. And then proceeded to throw it at Jazz again hahah

Little side note. I was originally going for Blurr being kept in aquarium too but then SSTP’s fic happened and now Blurr is a wild mer from the start~ I should probably change the first post to avoid confusion

[lexalith]

FRIENDS || Choi Su-Bong (Thanos)

summary: after late-night sexting with your best friend, everything changes. the bond you thought was purely platonic starts to feel deeper. were these feelings always there, hidden beneath the surface? or did something just… click? is this the start of something real, or the beginning of a mistake that could ruin everything?

warnings: aged up female reader (they’re both in their late twenties) (MDNI), smut (masturbation, fingering, public sex, p in v, oral sex (f and m), sexting, edging, praising, unprotected sex (don’t be silly)) semi and minsu are victims of the reader’s and subong’s freakiness, angst (name calling, miscommunication, pushing, throwing things, lying, deception, fear of commitment, reader refuses to help him at some point, slapping, slutshame remarks), overuse of the words ‘fuck’ and ‘fucking’ (lmaoo), subong should be a warning himself, fwb dynamic, reader uses someone to forget subong, drug use and addiction.

a/n: i’ve never ever written anything here on tumblr before, so i don’t really know what i’m doing, help. also, english isn’t my first language, so mistakes should be present!! lowercase is intentional. this is an au with no games. text messages are in different colors (orange for the reader, purple for subong). the reader’s dialogue is in bold. mind you, this is LOOOONG (it’s a whole fic)

songs that inspired me to write this: friends — chase atlantic || back to friends — sombr || heartbeat — childish gambino || casual — chappell roan

this fic was also inspired by @jedisupernova ‘s writing, check out her page and fics!!! (they’re soooo good)

you’re still thinking about what that guy said. it wasn’t even a big deal, not really. just some random jerk at the club who’d had a few too many drinks and decided to share his unfiltered thoughts about your body. “you’re not really my type,” he’d said, like you’d asked. then he’d laughed and added, “not many guys would go for that.”

it shouldn’t bother you. you know it shouldn’t. but now, a few nights later, it’s stuck in your head, looping like a song you can’t turn off. so, lying in bed, scrolling aimlessly, you do what you always do when something’s bugging you—you text him. your best friend.

subong. are you awake?

yes ma’am. why?

i got a random question. but like, it’s not that deep

???

do you think i’m attractive?

you fire it off without overthinking, like it’s no big deal. it’s not weird to ask your best friend something like this. right?

it takes him a few minutes to reply.

what kind of question is that?

just answer

i’m too high for this shit, bro

you’re not high🙄 liar

i wish i were

omfg can you just say yes or no? please? but be honest, i promise i won’t get mad

yeah, i think u are

really?

sure thinggg, u’re hot mama

dude quit playing, i’m being serious over here

i’m not fucking playing

okay you think i’m attractive but like… what kind of attractive? cute attractive? like awwww. or i’d-fuck-you-raw attractive?

what are we even talking about

why can’t you just answer?😭

what is this for?

for my knowledge

tf is that supposed to mean?

you stare at the screen, mentally deciding whether you should tell him about what happened or not. you hadn’t told him before, not wanting to give it more attention. but this time, you decide to.

ugh, remember i went clubbing the other day? well this dude was being an asshole to me and he said some stuff and i can’t stop thinking about it so just be fucking honest and answer my question

some stuff? what stuff?

he said, and i quote ‘not many guys would go for that’. ‘that’ is me, btw💀

who tf is this dude?

bruh idk, some random guy, it doesn’t matter

it does?

are you gonna answer my question or no?

yeah. i think u r both kinds.

good, good, you think to yourself. his reply makes you relax a little, the knot in your stomach loosening. he thinks you’re attractive. of course he does—he’s your best friend, and best friends are supposed to hype you up.

for a moment, you stare at your phone, chewing on your bottom lip. you know you should leave it there, let it go. but something keeps tugging at you.

so, hypothetically, would you… yk, with me?

the second you hit send, panic sets in. your pulse skyrockets, and you almost want to throw your phone across the room. why did you do that? why couldn’t you just shut up? but you don’t have time to spiral, because the dots appear almost immediately.

are u serious?

and you freeze. your fingers hover over the screen, but you can’t bring yourself to type anything back. what kind of answer is that?

alr, imma be honest. yeah i would

your heart stops. you blink at the message, reading it again and again, like the words might change if you look long enough. you weren’t prepared for this.

subong’s typing…

would u? with me?

you want to lie, to brush it off, but your fingers move before your brain can stop them.

maybe

the dots pop up again. then disappear. then pop up again.

maybe?? that means yes. cmon i’m hot as hell, baby, u know it. u’ve probably touched yourself thinking about me at least once

wtf bro you’re giving me the biggest ick rn 💀

but have u?

and you? i bet you jerk off to my insta photos, perv. don’t even start lmaoo

can’t help it when u look that good💯

you stare at his message, your mind scrambling to process it. you feel your breath catch in your throat. the shock should be overwhelming, but instead, you feel a strange warmth spread through you.

you didn’t expect this. the idea that he’s been thinking about you like that… it sends a shiver down your spine. you should probably tell him to stop, tell him it’s too much, but instead, you feel yourself leaning in, pulled toward this conversation in a way you didn’t think you would be.

i may or may not have done the same with your insta pics

i knew itttt señorita 🙏🏼

shut up

how many times?

why do you wanna know?🤨

i answered ur stupid ass questions, now u answer mine

maybe like idk, two?

no fucking way, just two????????

you think it’s not enough or what???? how many times have you done it?

more than u wanna know

how bad are we talking?

so bad i’ve lost count. u really want me to get into details?

maybe i do

bro, let’s just say that everytime u post i’m over here fighting a battle

you do realize i’m your bestfriend right?

yeah, so?

so aren’t there any girls to jerk off to instead of me???

yeah but they don’t make me as hard

you stare at the screen, your heart pounding, your legs squeezing together instinctively. what the hell is happening right now? and then another message comes through.

even saying this shit is getting me worked up

what???😭 you’re hard??

yeah bro, what's a guy supposed to do when his best friend asks if he would fuck her?

it was hypothetical

hypothetically speaking, if a guy was attracted to his best friend, he'd probably be rock fucking hard right now. so yeah, i'm fucking hard, girl

your stomach flips at the bluntness of his words. you can feel the blood rushing to your face as you stare at the message.

too much info, subong

nahhh, u asked. u wanted details, so here they are

okay… should i leave you to it?

fuck no

damn alr, suffer then🙄

could u help me out?

help you out?????????????

with a pic of u or smth

boy whatttttttttt

what?

i’m not sending you fucking nudes wtf 💀💀

no one asked for that, stupid. just a pic of u

just a pic of you. the request feels so simple. he’s your bestfriend—it’s not that big of a deal, right? especially after everything you’ve both just confessed to each other.

your eyes flick toward the mirror in your room. you’re in your pajamas. no bra. you know how it looks. it’s the kind of thing you wouldn’t think twice about wearing around him in person, but now, with this conversation, it feels different. your legs carry you to the mirror almost on autopilot. you pick up your phone and angle it toward your reflection. you shouldn’t even be entertaining this. but instead, you snap the picture. you stare at it for a moment, biting your lip. it’s not explicit—it’s just you. but still… you know exactly how he’ll see it.

your thumb hovers over the send button, hesitation gripping you. a hundred reasons not to do this race through your head, but one single thought drowns them all out: you want to know how he’ll react. before you can second-guess yourself, you hit send. the moment it delivers, your stomach drops, a mix of adrenaline and regret washing over you. you sit down on the edge of your bed, staring at the screen, waiting for his response, your heart pounding louder with every passing second.

hoooooooooly shitttttttttt

it’s just a pic

yeah, a pic of u looking like that

im just in my pajamas

and i’m hornier now, if that’s even possible

subong you can’t just say stuff like that

why not? we always tell each other everything

i should’ve thrown on a hoodie

i’d still be thinking of what’s underneath

well, glad i could help your horny ass🫡 enjoy or whatever

subong’s typing…

subong’s online

subong’s typing…

subong’s online

you watch the dots—flickering like they're mocking you. you can't help but wonder what he's typing—or if he's second-guessing whatever bold thing he's about to say. but then, they disappear. nothing. you frown, staring at the screen, waiting a few more seconds. still nothing. you realize exactly what he's probably doing. you bite your lip, heat creeping up your neck as the image forms in your mind: him, sitting there, hand wrapped around his dick, staring at the picture you sent.

you feel like you need to do something—anything—to distract yourself. you toss your phone onto the bed and reach for the remote, flipping on a random tv show. you let the noise fill the silence, but your mind keeps drifting back to him. it's a few minutes later when your phone dings. the sound cuts through the room like a knife, and you hesitate for a moment, staring at the screen, before finally reaching for it.

it's him. he sent a picture.

these are my pajamas. now we’re even, baby

him, standing in front of the mirror, shirtless and wearing only a pair of tight black briefs. the way he's posing is so over the top... he's trying way too hard. his expression is almost comical, like he's not really sure if he's pulling it off but is hoping you'll think he is. you can't help it—you stifle a laugh. but then your eyes drop, and that laughter dies in your throat. the bulge is so obvious, pushing against the fabric in a way that's impossible to ignore. it's not just visible, it's big. big enough that your pulse spikes, and you forget to breathe for a second. that laughter you were holding back? gone. you glance back at his goofy grin in the mirror, but it's no longer funny. shit. you’re wet.

you don't even know how it happens. one moment, you're staring at his picture, then a teasing comment here, a bold reply there—and before you know it, you're lying on your bed, your phone clutched in one hand and your other slipping between your thighs, pressed against the growing ache he's stoked with every message. you've never gone this far with him before—always ignoring his obvious flirting. but you can’t stop now. and he isn’t shy about it either, telling you with detail everything he would do to you.

u'd look soooo fucking good begging under me, baby

and what if i don’t?

then i'd make u

mhmmm, how?

fuck, i’d bury my face between those thighs and eat u out until u can’t take it anymore

a soft gasp escapes your lips as you read, your body reacting to the vivid images his words paint in your mind. you know you shouldn't be doing this—not with him—but the way he's describing everything makes you forget about all the reasons why. you’re far past the point of feeling shy too. you bite your lip, barely believing yourself as you hit send.

i wish you could feel how wet i am just thinking about you fucking me from behind

god damn girl, i’d stretch that pussy so good my dick is the only thing u’d think about for weeks

and then, it's not just texting anymore—you're sending pictures, even though you swore you wouldn't. the first one is a close-up of your fingers, glistening with your juices. his reply comes almost instantly, not as a text but as a voice message. “shit, baby, you're f-fucking killing me... mhmm... look at that. you're so fucking wet f’me, I can almost taste it through the screen... fuck...” his voice is low and rough, broken by soft, shaky breaths. you can hear him stroking himself, moans slipping out between words. you're losing your damn mind over it, replaying the voice message again and again—fingers curling inside of you as you push them in and out, wishing it were his fingers instead of yours.

he sends a pic too. this time, he leaves nothing to the imagination. it’s a selfie, his face barely visible at the corner. the center of attention is his hard dick, hand wrapped around it, tip leaking precum. and the only thing that comes to your mind right there and then is just how badly you want to take him in your mouth.

one picture leads to another, the messages growing dirtier with every exchange. his words are filthy, his photos even filthier, and the way he talks about your body—what he'd do to it, what he's imagining—fucking hell. your breathing quickens, your body burning with need, and before you know it, that familiar tension starts to coil low in your stomach.

shit, subong… i’m close

u’re gonna cum for me? cmon pretty girl, let me hear you

you hit record just as your orgasm crashes over you, moaning his name loudly as you cum on your fingers. after a few minutes, he sends a voice message back “you sound so fucking good… shit, look what you’ve done t-to me… mmm… fuck, fuck, fuck… i’m gonna cum thinking about fucking you, baby. i’m gonna cum thinking about you making those… s-sounds while i fucking pound into you.”

the next few days are a blur. he hasn’t texted, and you haven’t either. but no matter what you do, you can’t stop thinking about what happened. no matter how hard you try to shake it off, it’s there. his voice, the way he sounded saying your name, the damn nudes, the way your heart raced as you typed those things to him.

you don’t know how to feel about it. on one hand, you can’t deny how much you wanted it in the moment. but now? now you’re not sure. did you cross a line? did he? part of you regrets it, wishes you could just rewind and stop yourself before things spiraled. but another part—one you’re trying to ignore—remembers how good it felt, how right it seemed in the moment.

and then there’s the friendship. years of it. he’s been your best friend for a few years now. he knows things about you no one else does and he’s seen you at your absolute worst. like that night you showed up at his door after a horrible breakup. mascara streaked down your cheeks, and he didn’t say a word—just handed you a blanket, put on your favorite movie, and sat there with you until you fell asleep on his shoulder.

but it wasn’t always serious. like the time he tried rapping one of his freestyles for you, all cocky, and you laughed so hard you couldn’t breathe. or like the time you tripped over absolutely nothing at the mall, and he laughed so hard he cried, then spent weeks reenacting it whenever you were around. or when he clogged your toilet and tried to fix it himself instead of just telling you. or when he picked a fight with some guy at a club because the guy bumped into you and didn’t apologize. he got all puffed up and said, “you got a problem, man?” like he was some kind of action movie hero. but the guy was huge, like, rugby player huge, and before you could drag subong away, he swung and missed, and the dude took him down in one hit. he spent the rest of the night with a bloody nose and ice pressed to his face, grumbling, “he got lucky.” you still remind him of how he ‘lost a fight in one punch,’ and it always makes him groan.

you’ve got a thousand stupid inside jokes that no one else would understand, like how you always text each other ‘don’t die’ instead of ‘goodnight’ because of some dumb horror movie you watched together. or the fact that he nicknamed you ‘señorita’ when you said you wanted to visit spain one day.

he’s a walking disaster, an endless source of secondhand embarrassment, and somehow, that’s what makes subong… subong. being around him has always felt easy, like slipping into your favorite hoodie—comfortable, familiar, safe.

but friends don’t do… that. what if it’s never the same again? you’ve always been comfortable with him, never overthinking what you said or did around him. now, you can’t imagine looking him in the eye without thinking about what you two did together. you keep telling yourself that things will go back to normal, but deep down, you’re scared they won’t. because you’re not sure you can go back—not after knowing what it felt like to be wanted by him in that way. not after letting yourself want him back.

one day, out of the blue, he texts you like nothing happened. just casually, like you didn't have your hand between your thighs while listening to him moan your name a few nights ago.

yoooo, wanna hop on call and play videogames? i’m bored

at first, you stare at the text, because... what does this mean? is this his way of brushing it under the rug? of pretending nothing ever happened? still, you say yes. because what else can you do? you hop into the call, and there he is—joking, laughing, completely normal. like the two of you didn't cross every possible line. he's so good at acting like nothing's changed, it almost convinces you. you match his energy, responding with the same casual ease. maybe this is fine. maybe you're fine.

then the group chat lights up a few days later: a cinema meet-up. everyone's throwing out ideas for what movie to watch, talking about snacks, debating over showtimes. he's there, throwing in jokes about popcorn sizes and his infamous sweet tooth, and you're sitting there trying to decide if you can handle seeing him face to face. you hesitate, debating if you should just make up an excuse not to go. but then he replies to the chat, tagging you specifically.

u better be there señorita

i will🙃

the day arrives faster than you’d like, and before you know it, you’re standing outside the cinema, stomach flipping as you spot namgyu, minsu, gyeongsu, and semi waving at you. you force a smile and walk over, doing your best to focus on their chatter and ignore the nerves crawling up your spine. but then you see him—subong, leaning against the wall, vape in hand. and when his eyes land on you, he smirks. he knows damn well. he knows exactly what you’re thinking, and he’s not going to make this easy for you. “finally,” he says when you’re close enough. “i was starting to doubt you’d come.” “why wouldn’t i?” you reply. he shrugs, taking a puff from his vape “thought you might’ve had better things to do.” the way he says it feels loaded, but he doesn’t give you time to respond, turning his attention to namgyu instead.

when it’s time to head into the cinema, you try to position yourself far from him, making a beeline for a seat between minsu and semi. you settle in, thinking you’re safe, but of course, subong has other plans. “yo, minsu, my boy,” he says as he walks down the aisle, stopping directly in front of you. “mind scooting over? i’ll sit here.” “uh, sure,” minsu says, shifting down without hesitation. you open your mouth to object, but before you can say anything, subong is sliding into the seat next to you, drink in one hand and a bag of popcorn in the other. “hope you don’t mind,” he murmurs, leaning a little closer than necessary. you grit your teeth, keeping your gaze locked on the screen as the previews start. “not at all,” you mutter under your breath.

you think that’s it. but, of course, it doesn’t end there. he shifts in his seat, his arm brushing against yours every now and then, like he’s waiting for you to react. you swear you catch him smirking out of the corner of your eye multiple times. you try to focus on the movie, but it’s impossible when his presence is so loud. every little movement, every tiny glance, has your nerves on edge. and he knows it.

then, you feel it. his hand—light at first— rests on your bare thigh, the heat of his palm sending a jolt through you. you freeze, your breath catching in your throat. what the hell is he doing? his fingers trace a soft line along your skin, caressing just above your knee. you stay still, unsure of what to do, but your body betrays you, not pulling away.

his touch grows bolder, creeping higher up your leg, slipping under your skirt. you glance at him out of the corner of your eye. he's still watching the movie, acting like nothing is happening, like his hand isn't inches away from your clothed pussy. “what are you doing?” you finally ask, your voice barely above a whisper. he turns his head toward you, looking innocent, like he's just minding his own business. “nothing.” “subong—” “i'll stop if you want me to.” you don't answer, torn between wanting to push him away and not wanting him to stop at all. “do you want me to stop? be honest,” he says, still waiting for your response. “no,” you reply, looking away with embarrassment. he chuckles softly—hand rubbing the inside of your thigh.

you drape the thin jacket you brought over your legs, a flimsy attempt to shield his hand from semi’s view. every nerve in your body screams that you shouldn’t be letting this happen, but you don’t stop him. he spreads your legs with his hand for better access, and soon you feel two of his fingers pressing against your clit over the fabric of your panties. your breath hitches, and you try not to move—not even a sound escapes you—but your lips part at the feeling of his touch. he moves them slow—too slow—in a way that has you shifting against him, your hips bucking against his hand, desperate for more. and he gives it to you. his hand slips beneath your soaked underwear, and a low chuckle leaves him when he feels just how wet you are.

subong knows what he is doing. he rubs your clit in circles, gently but with enough pressure to have you biting your bottom lip. and god, his fingers feel so much better than you ever imagined. when he quickens the pace, a soft moan escapes your lips before you can stop it, and you quickly slap a hand over your mouth, pretending to be focused on the screen. but the rapid rise and fall of your chest betrays your so-called calm. before you can collect yourself, semi leans in. “are you okay?” “mhm,” you nod quickly, forcing a smile. “yeah, don't worry, i—” your words falter when his fingers move faster. you bite your lip, trying to hold it together, but he's clearly enjoying watching you struggle. “i-i'm fine,” you manage to stutter. semi raises an eyebrow. “you sure?” “yeah,” you nod. “alright,” semi says before shrugging and turning her attention back to the screen.

you let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through you. your head snaps toward subong, eyes narrowing in a glare that’s meant to convey exactly how ridiculous he’s being right now. you dig your nails into his wrist, “are you crazy?” but he only pauses for a second, leaning in close enough to whisper, “relax, girl. no one noticed.” the audacity of him sends heat rushing to your face. but he doesn’t back down, his fingers resuming their slow, torturous movements. and just as you’re about to reach your orgasm… he stops. your body jerks in frustration, and you whip your head toward him, confused. his smirk only deepens as he pulls his hand from under your skirt, bringing his fingers to his lips and licking them clean. “what the fuck?” you whisper, a soft groan escaping at the loss of his touch. “what?” he whispers back, feigning innocence. “you know what.” “i don't. you'll have to spell it out for me.” “subong—” “tell me what you want.” the frustration wells up in your chest. to him, this is probably hilarious—you being so desperate. but for you? it's humiliating. pathetic. begging your best friend for something like this. still, the need outweighs your pride. you lean in, your lips almost brushing his ear, “i wanna... i wanna cum. please, make me cum.” “yeah? be fucking quiet, then.”

his fingers slip back under your skirt. your breath catches, and you press your lips together, your body already trembling from how close you were before—gripping the armrest, barely able to keep still. every nerve in your body feels like it's on fire, and when his fingers circle just right, you're done. the release hits hard, and you muffle your moans by biting down on your lip so hard it stings.

the days after are... strange. again. no texting, no acknowledgment, no teasing, nothing. it's like it never happened. and when he does text again, it's so casual it throws you off. he sends a random picture, a meme he has found on instagram.

this shit is so funny bro loooololol

i fear your humor is broken😐

naahhh u just don’t get ittt babyy

you reply like everything's fine because, well, isn't it? you don’t even know at this point.

another day, he messages the group chat:

pentagon this weekend?🔥

the replies come fast. namgyu’s working that night. semi has plans with her girlfriend. gyeongsu says he’s too exhausted for it. minsu doesn’t even reply. everyone has an excuse, and eventually, the chat goes dead. then, a private message from subong popps up.

wbu? still down to go?

you and subong had gone clubbing together hundreds of times. hell, most nights it was just the two of you, dancing until your legs gave out, taking blurry selfies, and laughing over cheap drinks. it was normal. so, you type:

yeah, sureee

bet. see u saturday, señorita

when the night comes, your phone buzzes as you’re double-checking your look in the mirror.

outside

outsideeee

outsideeeeeeeee

hellooooooooooooooooooo

one minute, let me grab my jacket

i’m freezing man

one minute my ass

patience is a virtue ❤️

cmooooooooon

u knitting the jacket or what

girl i just hit retirement age waiting for u

you’re so dramatic

and u r so slow, balance baby

you grab your jacket and head out, the bass from his car already thudding through the air when you step outside. you see him leaning against the passenger door, dressed in his usual baggy style—a loose graphic tee, cargo pants, and sneakers that probably cost more than your entire outfit (the only damn thing he saves up for…)—vape dangling lazily from his fingers. when he sees you, his eyes trail over you for a second too long. “you’re overdressed,” he teases with a smile. “you’re underdressed,” you shoot back.

the drive to club pentagon is easy, filled with a mix of rap tracks and subong’s singing. when you finally pull up, the line’s already stretching down the block, but subong doesn’t even blink. “namgyu’s working, right?” he asks, sliding out of the car. you nod. “yeah, he’ll let us in.” inside, the music is already pulsing, bass heavy enough to shake the floors. subong grabs your wrist. “drinks first?” “obviously,” you answer. you follow subong to the bar, the pounding music buzzing in your ears. “what are we starting with?” he asks, leaning against the bar. “shots,” you say, already reaching into your bag. he raises an eyebrow. “you’re paying?” “you’re broke,” you remind him, rolling your eyes before ordering four shots of tequila. when the glasses arrive, he grabs two and hands you one. “guess i’ll owe you,” he says, clinking his glass against yours. “you already do,” you reply, downing the first shot without hesitation. the familiar burn of tequila trails down your throat, and you chase it with a quick breath.

you can feel his eyes on you as you throw back the second shot. you don’t meet his gaze, but you can feel it—the weight of it, the way it makes your stomach flutter. shaking it off, you slam your glass on the counter and signal for one more round. “last one,” you say, mostly to yourself, pulling out more cash. he doesn’t argue, just picks up his shot, watching you as you pick up yours. you both toss back the final shot, and the alcohol is just enough to loosen the knot in your chest. but the way his gaze lingers as he sets his glass down makes it tighten again. “dancing?” you ask. he nods. you push through the crowd till you find a spot on the dance floor. the techno track thuds through your chest as you sway to the rhythm. subong moves with you, not particularly in sync with the beat, but in his own way that somehow works. every now and then, his eyes catch yours, and you have to force yourself to look away.

the music builds, and you let yourself get lost in it, the alcohol buzzing through your veins and the tension from earlier slowly dissolving into the haze of the moment. after a while, he stops moving and pulls his phone from his pocket. you glance at him, curious, as he squints at the screen. whatever he sees makes him smile faintly before he shoves the phone back into his pocket. “i need to hit the bathroom!” he says, leaning close so you can hear. you blink at him, confused. “right now?” he nods, gesturing for you to follow. you don’t argue—it’s not exactly safe to hang around the dance floor by yourself. reluctantly, you let him lead you off the floor.

he disappears into the men’s room, leaving you standing against the wall, arms crossed. you tap your foot, watching drunk strangers stumble past. a few minutes later, the door swings open, and subong walks out, a small smirk playing on his lips. “what took you so long?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him. instead of answering, he holds up a small plastic bag between his fingers. your stomach flips when you see the little colorful pills inside. “what the hell is that?” you ask, but you already know. he grins, tilting his head. “new stuff.” your brows furrow. “what?” “my plug got these,” he says, holding up the bag slightly. “said they hit different. figured i’d try.” he slides one pill between his fingers, studying it like it’s no big deal. then he brings it to his mouth, about to toss it back. “wait,” you say, grabbing his wrist. he scoffs. “what? you want it instead?” you glare at him. “no, subong. what are you even doing? you don’t need that!” he rolls his eyes, freeing his wrist from your grip. “come on, it’s nothing. we’ve had worse.” “worse?” you scoff. “you’re really gonna compare getting blackout drunk and smoking pot to this?” “you’re fucking overthinking it. it’s just one pill. just tonight. trust me.” he says.

you glance at the bag again, at the little pills that seem so harmless yet scream bad idea. “subong…” you start, but your voice trails off. “look,” he cuts in, his voice softer now. “we’re having a good fucking time, yeah? it’ll be just this once, okay? i promise.” “okay,” you say suddenly, lifting your chin. “but if you do one, i’ll do one.” his smirk falters for half a second. “no.” you frown. “what do you mean, no?” “i mean no. you’re not taking one.” “but you can?” you challenge, crossing your arms.“yeah.” you scoff. “that’s bullshit.” he exhales sharply, shaking his head. “this isn’t your thing, señorita.” “since when it’s yours?” you snap. “if you’re gonna do it, then so am i.”

he looks at you, really looks at you. then, with an exasperated groan, he reaches into the bag. “fucking stubborn,” he mutters, pulling out another pill. “just this once.” he holds it delicately between his fingers before stepping closer. “open up,” he says, his voice dropping a notch. you hesitate for a second but eventually part your lips, sticking out your tongue. he places the pill gently on it. “there you go,” he says, stepping back and popping his own pill. you swallow it quickly, trying not to think about what you’ve just decided to do.

you move back onto the dance floor, the pill's effects creeping in like a warm wave washing over you. the flashing lights seem brighter now and everything blurs together—colors, sounds, the heat of the crowd—but it feels good. better than it should. your limbs feel lighter, like you're floating, and the energy buzzing inside you pushes you to move. subong is right there beside you, dancing with his hand raised, and you can't stop staring at him. his messy hair sticks to his forehead, sweat glistening on his tanned skin.

before you know it, your arms are around his neck, pulling him in like it’s the only thing keeping you steady. his eyes burn into yours for half a second, like he’s daring you to close the distance. then his hands are on your waist, rough fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt, warm against your skin, and he drags you closer until you’re pressed against him. the music is pounding, but it feels distant—like the only rhythm you can hear now is the way your bodies move together, hips rolling in time, every brush of his skin against yours making you burn.

his breath fans across your lips, hot and tasting of tequila and something bitter—maybe the pill he took earlier—and it makes your head spin. then your mouth crashes into his. there’s nothing soft about it. it’s messy and sloppy, urgent—like you’re both too far gone to think about anything but this. his lips part against yours immediately, and your tongues meet in a dizzying clash of heat and need. his hands slide up your back, fingers threading into your hair, tugging just hard enough to make you gasp into his mouth.

you tilt your head, chasing the kiss even deeper. you feel the sharp graze of his teeth against your bottom lip, a bite that makes you whimper before he soothes it with his tongue. the sound you make pushes him further—he groans into your mouth, his other hand gripping your jaw, tilting your face exactly how he wants it.

you’re not sure where the desperation is coming from, but it feels like if he stops touching you, you’ll shatter. your fingers clutch at his shirt, twisting the fabric as you grind just a little closer, a little harder. he’s breathing just as heavy as you are, lips red and swollen from kissing you like he never wants to stop.

you’ve kissed people before but nothing’s ever felt like this. nothing’s ever felt this fucking good. the two of you stumble out of the club. your legs feel like jelly as you hold onto subong, and his arm wraps around your waist to steady you. his car is parked a few streets over, tucked away in a dark, hidden corner under some trees. “thank god for this spot,” he mutters as he unlocks the doors.

you barely make it into the backseat before he’s on you again—his lips crashing into yours like he’s been waiting for this forever. his hands are all over you, rough and desperate, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. but you’re not going anywhere. his fingers dig into your thighs as he pulls you into his lap, and the second you straddle him, you feel it—hard and thick, pressing right against the heat between your legs. a soft gasp slips out of you, but he swallows it with another kiss, his tongue sliding against yours. fuck, he’s good.

your hands tangle in his hair, pulling as your hips start to move, grinding down on him. his grip tightens immediately, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he guides your movements, rocking you against him harder. the friction creates a delicious, aching pressure that makes you whimper against his lips. “fuck,” he breathes, breaking the kiss just long enough to let his head fall back against the seat. his fingers squeeze your ass, dragging you down against him rougher. “keep doing that.” so you do. you roll your hips, slow at first, letting yourself feel everything. you’re already soaked, already throbbing for more, and from the way his hands are gripping you, the way his breathing is getting heavier, you know he feels it too. “i need to eat you out,” he says, trailing kisses down your neck. “want you to cum on my tongue.” you do exactly what he wants—legs spread wide, thighs trembling as his head dips between them. his breath is hot against your soaked pussy, teasing, before his tongue finally makes contact—slow at first, a long, deliberate lick from your entrance to your clit that makes your whole body jolt.

you gasp at the feeling, fingers tangling in his hair, tugging hard, but it only makes him groan against you, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure straight through you. he doesn’t hold back. he devours you, eating you out like a man starved, his tongue flicking against your clit before he sucks it into his mouth. and when two of his fingers slip inside you, curling deep, pressing against that perfect spot, you swear you see stars. “you taste so fucking good,” he groans against you, his lips slick with your arousal before he flattens his tongue and laps up every drop. the way he’s working you—his mouth, his fingers, the filthy sounds coming from between your legs—it’s too much, too good, and your whole body is trembling, hips rolling against his face, chasing more. “shit—subong!” your voice breaks as the pleasure crashes over you all at once. your thighs clamp around his head, your body arching off the seat as you cum hard against his mouth. but he doesn’t stop—his tongue keeps moving, drinking you in, dragging out your release until you’re shaking.

when he comes back up to kiss you—chin shining with the evidence of your release— your hand instinctively moves to rub him through his pants, the hard outline of his dick impossible to miss. he hisses at the contact, his hips bucking eagerly against your touch. “you got a condom?” you ask. he pauses. “yeah, hold on.” reluctantly, he pulls away and starts patting his pockets. his brows furrow in concentration as he checks one side, then the other. finally, with a relieved grin, he pulls a condom out and holds it up. “got it,” he says before kissing the wrapper, making you chuckle.

he looks so fucking hot as he rolls the condom onto his cock, his chest rising and falling with anticipation. but nothing gets him off more than watching you climb back onto his lap, your soaked folds teasing the head of his dick as you line yourself up. his breath stutters, his hands gripping your thighs, barely holding himself back. “fuck, you’re so wet,” he says, voice tight with restraint. then, slowly you sink down onto him. inch by inch, he stretches you open, filling you up until there’s no space left between your bodies. “shit,” he hisses, watching as your slick coats him, making every movement easy, effortless—like your body was made to take him. and when you start moving, lifting your hips before sliding back down, a broken moan escapes his lips. “fuck, baby,” he breathes, hands roaming up your back, gripping your ass, anything to ground himself as you ride him. “you feel so f-fucking good—look at you, taking me so… mmm… so fucking well.” his voice is needy, and when you slam down harder, his hips jerk up to meet yours, pushing even deeper. “oh my—fuck, subong!” you cry out, your walls clenching around him so tight it makes his whole body tense beneath you.

he almost fucking loses it the second he feels you clench around him, his face twisting in pleasure, jaw going slack. his hands grip your hips, guiding you—faster, rougher—eyes locked on where your bodies meet, watching his cock disappear inside you over and over again. he forces himself to meet your gaze, even though his eyes keep threatening to roll back. “fuck, if i’d known how fucking good this pussy is… i would’ve f-fucked you sooner.” he moans as you move faster, bouncing on his cock—every thrust making obscene, slick sounds that only turn him on more. his eyes drop to your tits, bouncing perfectly in time with your movements, and fuck, he can’t decide what he wants more—to keep watching you ride him like this or to flip you over and ruin you.

but then you tighten around him, your rhythm stuttering as you throw your head back, moaning so loud he swears the whole damn neighborhood can hear you. “fuck— i’m gonna—! i-i’m gonna cum!” you cry out, your whole body trembling, thighs shaking as you cum around his cock. and that’s it. that’s all it takes to break him. “shit—ngh!” his body jerks beneath you, his abs tensing as he spills into the condom, his head falling back, mouth open.

his hands are still gripping you, holding you down against him as he rides out every last pulse of his release, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. and fuck—you’re still wrapped around him, warm and wet and perfect. you end up laughing for a solid twenty minutes after that, still too high to fully process what the fuck just happened between you two. but even in your haze, every single detail stays with you the next day.

fucking your best friend while high as fuck one night might’ve been an accident. but then it happens again. and again. and again. and you can’t call it an accident anymore.

it happens everywhere.

in his car, where the windows are always fogged up, your moans echoing in the tight space. in your apartment, where he barely gets the door shut before he’s got you pinned against it, hands rough and greedy, yanking your clothes off like he’s been waiting all fucking day for this. sometimes he doesn’t even make it past the kitchen—he just lifts you onto the counter, knocking over whatever’s in his way, too impatient to care as his mouth moves down your neck. in his bed, where the sheets are always a mess, tangled from how hard he fucks you into the mattress, his hands gripping your wrists, pinning them above your head. even in a club bathroom, right after he gives a show, still high off the energy, sweat dripping down his temple. you’re barely inside before he’s got you bent over the sink, hiking your dress up, shoving your panties to the side, fucking into you so deep you have to bite your hand to keep from screaming his name.

wherever. the second you’re alone, it’s happening. it becomes a thing. a need.

you always figured subong would fuck good. he never shut up about the girls he’s been with, the shit he’s done, bragging like he was the best lay any of them ever had. and every time he talked about it, you’d feel heat pool between your thighs, wondering if he was really that good or just full of shit.

now you knew. and fuck, he wasn’t lying.

he’s rough and passionate—the kind of lover who takes without hesitation but gives just as much, maybe even more. he loves watching you squirm, loves the way your body responds to him like it was made for this. like it needs this. his fingers trail down your skin, barely touching, making you shiver before he finally gives you what you want. and fuck, he lives for it—the way you gasp when he finally presses his mouth between your legs, the way your back arches when he fills you up, stretching you wide, making you take every inch.

some days, he drags it out, torturing you with slow touches, lazy kisses, making you beg before he finally gives in. he’ll tease you until you’re trembling, hands gripping at him desperately, “please, subong… need you so bad.” and then, maybe then, he’ll give you what you’re begging for. other days? he doesn’t bother waiting. before you can say a word, he’s got you pinned to the mattress, yanking your legs apart, pressing himself against you, making you feel just how hard he is. “been thinking about this all fucking day.” then he’s inside you, fucking you like he’s been starving for it.

it’s been months now—this thing between you and subong. but you don’t talk about it. not once. there’s no late-night confessions, no whispered ‘what are we?’ between tangled sheets. he doesn’t ask who else you’re seeing, and you sure as hell don’t ask him. but the uncertainty lingers. because he’s still your best friend. you still laugh at his dumb ass jokes, roll your eyes when he’s being his cocky self, and feel that weird, warm twist in your stomach when you catch him watching you from across the room.

and yet, there are a bunch of little things that scream something more. like that time you sat on his rumpled bed while he was writing a song, and you helped him hammer out stupid-ass verses—even when he swore they’d never work. you teased him for his cheesy lines and then watched his face light up like he’d just discovered a new fucking world. hell, he even calls you his muse sometimes, and you hate how damn proud that makes you feel.

or that stormy night. the rain was lashing against the windows, and you two were locked in his tiny studio apartment. one minute you were laughing, taking silly pictures of him with a digital camera while he smoked, and the next, he had your face pressed against the wooden table as he fucked you from behind—your ass cheeks burning from his vigorous spanking. after, he pulled you close, running his fingers through your hair as if trying to memorize every inch of you.

that one night he showed up at your door at 2 a.m., high off his ass, slurring your name with that cocky grin, his knuckles tapping too fast against the wood. “couldn’t sleep,” he mumbled, leaning against the doorframe. “fucking missed you.” you should’ve told him to fuck off, should’ve rolled your eyes and slammed the door in his face because he promised he wouldn’t do that shit again. instead, you let him in, let him collapse onto your bed with a heavy sigh, pulling you down with him. his arms caged you in, the scent of his cheap cologne filling your senses.

then there was the time you caught him staring at you while you were getting ready. you were fixing your hair in his mirror, wearing nothing but his oversized t-shirt, and when you turned around, he was just standing there—arms crossed. “what?” you asked, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. he just shook his head, smirking a little. “nothing,” he said. “you just—you look good in my clothes, mama.”

and when you called him crying after a shitty day at work, voice shaking so bad he could barely understand you. you didn’t even have to ask—he just showed up, no questions. drove way too fucking fast to get to you, and pulled you into his chest so tight it felt like he was trying to hold you together. “who do i need to punch?” he asked, half-joking, half-dead serious. and you laughed, even through your tears, because that was him—always trying to make you smile. he let you cry into his hoodie, let you hold onto him like a fucking lifeline, and then, when you finally calmed down, he kissed your forehead like it was second nature. “you’re okay, baby” he murmured. “i got you.” he always had you.

or the night he took you to some shitty underground concert, knowing damn well you didn’t even like the band. “it’s not about the music,” he told you, grinning like an idiot. “it’s about the experience.” you rolled your eyes, but you still let him pull you into the crowd, still let him wrap an arm around you when the pit got too wild, still let him hold your hand. afterward, sweaty and breathless, you sat on the curb outside, sharing a cigarette while he rambled about how sick the show was. “you should play up there one day,” you told him, nudging his shoulder. “your songs have gotten better.” “you think?” “yeah. you’re good, bong-bong.” the nickname made him laugh. a week later, he showed you something he wrote. something raw and messy and fucking beautiful. he let you hear a part of him no one else ever did.

you even helped him rebrand himself. it started with him pacing his room, muttering to himself, stopping every few seconds like he was about to say something, then changing his mind. eventually, you sighed, rolling onto your stomach while watching him from his bed. “are you having a breakdown or just being dramatic?” he ignored you, still pacing. and then, out of nowhere, he stopped. snapped his fingers. looked at you like he just discovered the secret to life itself. “i’m gonna dye my hair purple.” you stared at him for a long second, waiting for him to laugh or tell you he was joking. but he just stood there, completely serious, shoulders squared like he was about to go to war.

within twenty minutes, you were in his bathroom, gloves on, a box of purple dye sitting between you. you didn’t even ask how he got it so fast. knowing him, he’d probably been sitting on this idea for weeks, just waiting for the right moment to drag you into it. he sat on the closed toilet lid, legs spread, while you stood over him, parting his hair and working the dye through. up close, he looked smug as hell, like he knew he was onto something. the whole rap game was about standing out, and he was done waiting for people to notice him.

the name ‘thanos’ caught on faster than you expected. at first, it was a joke—you called him that to be annoying, and then he used it in a song, and suddenly, people were saying it back to him. dms started piling up. more people started listening. before you knew it, subong wasn’t just some guy making music in his bedroom—he was thanos. and, of course, he acted like he knew it was gonna work all along.

and fuck, the time he brought you home to meet his family. his mom fussed over you like you were the perfect daughter-in-law, laying on your favorite dish and insisting you have seconds. then, saying, “he talks about you a lot”, making subong choke on his food while his sister goaded him about how he treats you like his damn girlfriend. you felt so out-of-place and yet so damn loved by the way he proudly introduced you to everyone, as if you were the missing piece in his fucked-up puzzle. he even opened up to you about his dad—how he never gave a shit about him, never looked at him unless it was to point out everything he did wrong. maybe that was why he kept stealing glances at you like he was trying to make sense of it—of being wanted, of being next to someone who actually cared.

and later that night, when you were both lying on his couch, full and sleepy, he nudged your knee with his. “thanks for coming, señorita,” he mumbled, eyes half-lidded. “they liked you.” you turned your head to look at him, saying, “of course they did. i’m fucking amazing.” he smirked, but it faded quick, his gaze lingering on you a little too long. “yeah,” he murmured. “you are.”

nights that weren’t about sex at all. the ones where he just wanted you close, his hands resting on your back, his lips pressed to your shoulder, his voice low and sleepy in the dark. “you’re warm,” he’d mumble, pulling you closer. “don’t leave.” “i work tomorrow, baby,” you’d say. “i’ll drive you… stay with me,” he’d always replied.

and you did. every single time.

and there were the nights he fucked you like he meant it. not just like you were some girl he was hooking up with, but like you were the only one who had ever mattered. like he was trying to prove something with every touch, every kiss, every time he pressed his sweaty forehead to yours and whispered your name like a prayer.

like he loved you. but he never said it. and neither did you.

so instead, you settled for the quiet moments—for the way he always pulled you into his lap at parties, his hands resting lazily on your thighs; for the way he let you pick the music when you drove anywhere, even though he always bitched about your taste; for the way he let you steal his fries, let you doodle on his lyrics notebook, let you wear his hoodies even when you didn’t ask; for the way he texted you ‘good morning, baby❤️,’ and it made you smile for no damn reason; for the way you woke up to find him still asleep beside you, hair a damn mess on the pillow, and traced lazy circles on his chest while he mumbled some half-remembered melody. for the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching.

you can’t help but hope that one day you’ll both just say the damn words and finally admit that all these little moments mean something. you hope that maybe, just maybe, one day you’ll stop wondering if you’re more than just friends with benefits.

are u busy?

no, why?

good, i’ll be there in 10

i’m on my period

who gives a shitttt, i sure as hell don’t, mama

subong.

yeah?🙏🏼

not in the mood❤️

oh

alr cool👍🏼💯

can i still come over tho? we could watch a movie or something

yeah okayyy, bring snacks (or else i won’t let you in)

i’m the only snack u need, girl

you don’t expect him to show up with anything, but when you open the door, subong’s standing there, hands full—one holding a plastic bag, the other gripping a bottle of soda. “what’s all this?” you ask, raising a brow. he steps inside without waiting for an invite, kicking off his shoes. “you said ‘bring snacks’, didn’t you?” he says, dropping the bag onto your coffee table. “figured you’d want something sweet.” you peek inside—chocolate bars, a pack of strawberry pocky, even a container of sliced fruit. your chest tightens at the thought of him actually remembering the little things you like.“what, no painkillers?” you tease, flopping onto the couch. he scoffs, collapsing next to you, way too comfortable in your space. “what do i look like, a pharmacy?”

you give him a knowing look, and his lips twitch, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. grabbing the remote, you ask, “so, what are we watching?” “something i won’t fall asleep to,” he says, stretching an arm across the back of the couch. “which means no boring indie shit.” you nudge his thigh with your foot. “first of all, my movie taste is elite. second, if you fall asleep, i’m taking pictures.” he grins, lazy and cocky. “yeah? what will you use them for?” heat rushes to your face, and you smack his arm without thinking. “shut up.”

the movie plays, and for a while, it’s normal. easy. you snack on the pocky while subong steals pieces of fruit from the container, acting like he’s doing you a favor by eating the ones you don’t like. he stretches out on the couch, legs spread, one arm draped lazily over the backrest. goddamn.

it's barely been a few minutes when you find yourself on your knees in front of the couch, his strong hand fisting in your hair as you hungrily suck his dick like your life depends on it. you couldn’t help it. he just looked too fucking good. you take him deep, your nose pressing against his abs, gagging slightly but refusing to back off. he lets out a groan as you take him, the head of his dick hitting the back of your throat. His hand tightens in your hair, guiding your head up and down. “fuck, just like that baby... show me how much you love this dick.” his hips thrust forward, making you gag slightly. “you're so f-fucking good for me... mmm such a pretty little mouth, choking on my cock.”

drool slips down your chin as you struggle to breathe but maintain eye contact, wanting him to see how much you love taking him in your mouth. the wet, obscene sounds of you slurping and gagging fill the room. he watches you intently, pupils blown wide with lust, his dick throbbing against your tongue. moaning around him, the vibrations make his thighs quake. "shit... you’re gonna make me fucking c-cum," he breathes out. “you gonna… you gonna let me cum in that s-sweet mouth of yours, hm?” “mhmm,” you purr around his length, looking up at him with hooded eyes. you double your efforts, sucking him hard and fast, your hand pumping what you can’t reach. he holds your head in place as he comes, making you to swallow every last drop. you take a moment to catch your breath, wiping your mouth before sitting back up.

the bathroom lights hum to life as you rinse your mouth and splash cool water on your face, trying to shake off the heat thrumming through you. you press your palms against the sink, inhaling deep in an attempt to look less flustered. the movie’s still on when you come back. you get comfortable, leaning into subong just slightly. he doesn’t say anything, just lifts his arm and lets you settle in against his side. the warmth of him seeps into you, and you rest your head on his shoulder. subong smiles at you before kissing your forehead, something that shouldn’t mean anything but somehow does.

you shift slightly, but he just pulls you in closer, his body solid and warm against yours. your heart stutters in your chest, and the thought of what you are—what you actually mean to him—becomes impossible to ignore. the longer you sit there, the harder it is to pretend this is normal. your heart is beating too fast, your mind racing with thoughts you’ve been shoving down for months. finally, you tilt your head to glance up. “subong,” you start, your voice quieter than you mean it to be. he hums, eyes still on the screen, but you can tell he’s listening. you swallow, suddenly nervous. “what… what are we doing?” that gets his attention. “what do you mean?” you sit up a little, putting some space between you—enough to see him clearly. “this. us. it’s been months, and we’ve never talked about it.” “what’s there to talk?” “i mean, is this just sex to you?”

he doesn’t answer right away. his jaw tenses, his eyes flicking away for a second like he’s weighing his words. “does it feel like just sex to you?” he finally asks. your chest tightens. “no.” his lips part slightly, like he wasn’t expecting you to admit it so easily. like maybe he’s been trying to convince himself of something different. “right. it’s not just sex, we’re friends, too,” he says. “then why are we acting like this?” you push. he rubs a hand over his face. “i don’t know.” he leans forward, elbows on his knees. the silence stretches thick between you, but you refuse to let it suffocate you. you need to know. “what do you want this to be?”

subong exhales hard, dragging a hand through his hair. he looks frustrated, like he doesn’t even want to have this conversation. like you’re ruining something by asking. “why do we have to call it something?” he says finally, and your stomach twists. you blink, sitting up a little. “because it’s been months, subong. because we’re not—we’re not just fucking and then going our separate ways. because we’re sitting here, cuddling, watching a damn movie, and it feels like more.” his jaw clenches, his fingers tightening around his knee. “it doesn’t have to mean anything.” that stings. worse than you were expecting. you swallow around the lump forming in your throat. “it does to me.” his face twists, like he hates hearing that. “shit, don’t fucking do this,” he mutters, shaking his head. “why can’t we just keep things the way they are?” “because i’m tired of pretending this is casual when it’s not,” you snap, your voice cracking. “not for me, at least.”

he squeezes his eyes shut for a second, like he’s trying to hold something back. when he looks at you again, his expression is unreadable, but his next words hit like a punch to the gut. “then maybe you shouldn’t have let it get this fucking far.” you feel like the air has been sucked out of the room. “what?” “i never promised you shit.” the words cut deep, sharper than anything he’s ever said to you before. you open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. because he’s right. he never did. but the way he touched you, the way he held you after—none of that felt like nothing. you shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your voice steady. “are you fucking kidding me?”

he hesitates for a second too long. and that’s all you need to know. you force yourself to nod, pressing your lips together. “okay.” his brows furrow, like he wasn’t expecting you to take it like that, but you don’t give him the chance to say anything else. you grab the remote, press stop on the movie, and push yourself off the couch. “you should go.” “are you fucking serious?” you cross your arms over your chest, fighting to keep your composure. “yeah, i’m serious. get the fuck out.” “we have one fucking shitty conversation, and now you don’t want me here?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “what the fuck do you want from me, subong?” your voice shakes, and you can feel it crack, but you force it out. “sit here and pretend like i didn’t just fucking tell you how i feel? pretend i’m not fucking hurt because you—” you stop yourself, biting your lip so hard it almost bleeds. his jaw clenches. “what?” you let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and bitter. “because you don’t fucking care.” “i never said i don’t care.” “you might as well have,” you snap, voice breaking with frustration. “you just don’t give a shit enough to do anything about it.” he presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek, breathing hard through his nose. “just because i care doesn’t mean we have to slap a fucking label on it!” “and i just have to be okay with that?!” you snap, your voice rising. “i have to sit here like a dumbass and pretend this is fine when it’s not?”

he throws his hands up, his face twisting in frustration. “for fuck’s sake, why do you have to make everything so fucking difficult?” “difficult?!” you let out a humorless laugh. “you’re the one acting like a fucking idiot, subong! you want to fuck me, cuddle me, act like i’m your fucking girlfriend, but the second i ask you to be honest about what this is, suddenly i’m the problem?! you even introduced me to your damn family!” he freezes for half a second when the words leave your mouth, then he stands up, jabbing a finger in your face. “what the fuck did you just call me?!” you swat his hand away, your glare burning into him. “don’t fucking point at me like that!” his jaw tightens, and his nostrils flare like he’s barely keeping himself from snapping. “you wanna talk about being a fucking idiot?! look in the fucking mirror!” he spits. “you’re the one acting like some needy little bitch because i won’t say what you wanna hear.” “fuck you, subong!” you don’t say anything else. you just turn on your heel and walk out of the living room, heading straight for the kitchen. your hands are shaking, your chest tight, and you just need to put some distance between you and him before you completely fall apart. behind you, you hear him scoff. “seriously? you’re just gonna walk away mid-fucking-conversation?”

you grip the edge of the counter, squeezing your eyes shut. maybe if you stay quiet, he’ll take the fucking hint and leave. but of course, he doesn’t. you hear his footsteps as he follows you in. “you always do this shit,” he mutters, his voice dripping with irritation. “running off the second things don’t go your way.” you whirl around, your eyes burning. “what should i do, then? hm? get on my knees and suck your fucking dick again?!” he clenches his fists at his sides, his mouth opening like he’s about to argue—but then he hesitates. because the truth is, you do mean something to him. he just doesn’t know how to fucking deal with it. subong has never done this before—never been in something that wasn’t just fucking around, never had to deal with real feelings, real expectations. and the idea of fucking it up? it scares the shit out of him. but instead of admitting that, instead of being honest for once in his life, he just does what he does best—pushes, lashes out. it seems easier than dealing with what he feels when he’s around you.

“why do you care so fucking much about not calling it something?” you ask, your voice softer now. “if we’re not seeing other people, if we’re always together, if you do care about me, then why?” his throat bobs as he swallows hard. and then—because he’s a fucking coward—he lies. “who says i’m not seeing other people?” you freeze. his face is unreadable, but you can see the way his fingers twitch at his sides, like he already regrets saying it. “you’re lying.” your voice is quiet. he just shrugs, “i’ve been seeing this girl.” “who?” you raise your voice, taking a step closer as tears start falling down your face. “who?!” “i’m not fucking telling you!” “are you serious?! aren’t we supposed to be friends too?! we used to tell each other everything!”

his eyes flick to yours, and for a second—just a second—something flashes in them. something like guilt. but then he shuts it down, scoffing as he shakes his head. you continue, “but we’re not even friends anymore, are we?” “don’t say that.” “why not? it’s true, isn’t it? friends don’t do what we do,” you wipe at your face, even though the tears won’t stop fucking falling. he swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, pressing it against the inside of his cheek like he’s trying to hold something back. but then he just shrugs again, voice flat. “guess we’re not fucking friends either, then.”

your vision blurs as you cry, no matter how hard you try to keep it together. “get the fuck out, subong.” your voice breaks on the last word, and you hate how fucking weak you sound, how pathetic. and the second the first real sob rips out of your throat, something in him shifts. “fuck. no, i—” he exhales, raking a hand through his hair, his voice softer now, like he’s realizing he went too far. “i didn’t mean it. i’m sorry—i’m sorry, baby.” “don’t fucking call me that!” “you gotta listen to me!” you shake your head, taking a step back, your whole body trembling. “no. i’m done listening to your fucking bullshit.” “baby, please.” his voice cracks, and his hands reach for you—hesitant, like he doesn’t know if you’ll let him touch you. “please.” you slap them away instantly. “don’t fucking touch me.” “you’re really just gonna shut me out like this?!” “you shut me out first!” “i fucking care about you!” “not enough!” his breath catches in his throat, and for a second, he just stares at you. “you’re being fucking dramatic.” “get the fuck out of my house, subong.” “why are you being such a fucking—” “say it.” your voice is a challenge, daring him to go there. he doesn’t hesitate. “bitch. a fucking bitch. you—you’re acting like a bitch.”

you’ve had enough. without thinking, you shove him—hard. he stumbles back a step, caught off guard, but you don't stop. you shove him again, your palms flat against his chest. “you’re a fucking asshole! fuck you! get out! get the fuck out!” his jaw tightens, like he wants to argue, like he wants to throw something else back at you, but you're already stepping forward again, grabbing his arm and shoving him toward the front door. subong wrenches his arm away, but you don't let it stop you. you push him again, shoving him past the threshold. but he’s not moving, so you grab the nearest thing—his damn sneakers—and chuck them at him, one after the other. the first one bounces off his chest, the second one catches him square in the shoulder. “what the fuck, man?!” subong barks, flinching back, his face twisting in irritation. he barely catches the second shoe before it can hit the ground. “you’re a crazy bitch!”

“fuck off!” your voice cracks again, but you don’t care. you’re already stepping forward, already reaching for the door—and you slam it in his face. the sound echoing through the room. for a moment, silence. a long, awful pause where your breath hitches, where your chest tightens so much it feels like you’re suffocating. then—“open the door. c’mon, open—open the fucking door!” he slams his fist against the wood. “stop being so fucking childish!” “you’re calling me childish?! grow up, subong! you’re twenty six, you don’t know what you want and you still dress like a fucking kid!” he bangs the door. “you’re one to talk, girl! always dressed like a damn slut!”

you squeeze your eyes shut and stumble to your room until your knees hit the bed, and then you’re collapsing onto it. the first sob breaks out of you before you can stop it, and then another, and another. you curl into yourself, pulling the blanket over your head, pressing your hands against your ears. but it doesn’t block him out. “fucking talk to me!” another bang. you hear the doorknob rattle. “baby, please! i’m sorry, okay?! c’mon, don’t do this! we’re fucking friends!” your voice is muffled when it finally comes, thick with tears, but loud enough for him to hear you. “go away!” “not fucking happening! open the damn door!” “go away or i’m calling the fucking cops, motherfucker!” that seems to work. you curl tighter, press your face into the pillow, and sob until the sound of his fists against the door fades away. he did this. he made you feel this way. and he fucking hates himself for it. but it’s too late.

the next few days are absolute shit. you barely leave your bed at first. your body feels too heavy, your chest too tight, your eyes too sore from crying. when you do finally move, it’s only to go through the motions—brushing your teeth, pulling on the same oversized hoodie, forcing down a few bites of food even when everything tastes like nothing, and going to work. you don’t check your phone at first. you can’t. but eventually, the screen lights up, and you don’t have to look to know who it is. subong. you let it ring. he calls again. and again. when it finally stops, the texts start.

pick up the fucking phone

cmon baby please

i fucking miss u

don’t do this shit to me

u make me so fucking angry

bro istfg

please

you turn the phone face down. but he doesn’t stop. every time you glance at your screen, his name is there.

i know u r reading these

don’t fucking ignore me bro

at least tell me u r okay

minsu asked why u didn’t come with us today

just fucking answer

is it that hard?

years and years of friendship man and u throw it all away like that?

u r fucking selfish

i hope u know that

the texts keep coming. always at random times. but the worst ones come at night. one day, at 4:12 a.m., your phone buzzes against your nightstand. you try to ignore it, try to pretend you’re asleep, but something tells you to look.

im highhg as fuvckk bro

look whatu vdone to me

fukcing bittvhhh

its urA fault

i mis uu

u r myybhaby❤️❤️❤️❤️

its fucking 4am. i wake up at 6 to go to work, stfu and leave me alone

can i cone over? plewaasse

answer bitchj

fuck you, subong. i don’t want to see you again

come bsck

i loveyouy

you block him, roll over, and squeeze your eyes shut. but sleep doesn’t come easy. not when the last words he sent are still glowing behind your eyelids, burning into your brain.

blocking him should have brought peace. should have been the final step, the clean break. but it doesn’t feel like that. instead, it feels like holding your breath underwater, waiting to resurface, except there’s no hand to pull you up this time. the first few days, you keep checking your phone out of habit. unlocking it without thinking. but there’s nothing. you still reach for him in small ways—almost texting him when something funny happens, almost turning to tell him about your day. but you can’t do that. you won’t do that. so you keep yourself busy. you pick up a book, let your eyes scan the words without really absorbing them. go on long walks, let the cold air bite at your skin, hoping it shocks you out of your thoughts. start journaling, writing down everything except his name, except the way your chest still feels hollow. you even try new things—take a yoga class with a friend, bake cookies at 2 a.m., cut your hair just to feel something different. but memories of him are stitched into the fabric of your life.

you hear his voice on the radio sometimes now, when they play a song of his that went viral. see him in the reflection of dark car windows, like he’s just a step behind you. hear a joke and immediately think about how he’d laugh, head thrown back, eyes crinkling at the edges. you tell yourself that eventually, you’ll forget. but some nights, you lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if he’s staring at his too. if he’s thinking about you. and the ache doesn’t go away.

your phone rings one night, when you’re already in bed. you almost don’t answer, but when you see semi’s name flash across the screen, you pick up. “hello?” your voice is groggy, tired. “hey,” semi says. “sorry, did i wake you?” “no,” you lie. “what’s up?” there’s a pause. hesitation. then, “it’s subong.” your stomach drops. “we’re worried about him.” she rushes the words out, like she’s been holding them in for too long. “he’s been acting weird lately—worse than usual.” you close your eyes, already knowing where this is going. already knowing what she’s about to say before she even says it. “he’s been taking those pills,” she continues. “the ones he used to mess with sometimes, but now he’s on them all the time. it’s like he’s not even—shit. he was out,” she says, frantic. “namgyu couldn’t wake him up at first, it was fucking bad, dude. and now he’s still high as hell, barely making sense, and he keeps—” she hesitates. you frown. “he keeps what?” “he keeps mumbling your name.” you feel like you’ve been punched in the chest. you press your fingers to your temple, trying to stop the pounding in your head. “fuck.” “he’s not okay,” she says. “he’s barely sleeping, barely eating. he looks like shit. well, he always does, but you know what i mean. and when he does talk, it’s like he’s—like he’s not there.”

you take a shaky breath. you shouldn’t care. you don’t care. he’s not your problem anymore. but your stomach still twists at the thought of him like that. “maybe you could talk to him?” semi says, hopeful. “when he feels better. i think he’d listen to you. gyeongsu is gonna take us to the hospital in a few minutes, maybe you could come too? we’ll pick you up. we’re at namgyu’s apartment, we had to take him—” “we’re not friends anymore, semi,” you cut off, swallowing down the lump in your throat. silence. “what?” she says. “what do you mean?” “he hasn’t told you?” “told us what?” “it doesn’t matter,” you say finally, letting out a heavy sigh. “i can’t help him.” “but—” “i can’t, semi.” the words come out sharper than you mean them to. she falls quiet. after a long moment, she sighs. “alright, okay,” she says, voice heavy with disappointment. “i just… i didn’t know.”

and even though you tell yourself it’s not your problem, even though you tell yourself you did the right thing—you don’t sleep that night. maybe you’re the most horrible person ever. for not helping him. that’s what you think to yourself as the days go by. you don’t go to see him. you don’t text semi back. you tell yourself that there’s nothing you could have done, that he made his choices, that you’re not responsible for saving him. but the guilt sticks to your ribs.

you keep moving forward. and then, somewhere along the way, you meet him. he’s nothing like subong. not really. but sometimes, in the way he leans back in his chair, in the way he runs his fingers through his hair, in the way he laughs when he’s had one too many drinks—he almost is. (he even likes rap!) and maybe that’s why you let him take you out. why you let him kiss you. why you let him press his hands against your skin and pretend it feels right. it doesn’t. but you let it happen anyway. because it’s easier. because when you close your eyes, you can almost pretend it’s subong. it’s fucked up. you know it’s fucked up. but you tell yourself it’s fine. that it doesn’t matter. that this is what moving on is supposed to look like. but it’s not fair. you know you shouldn’t be doing this. and when he asks what’s wrong, why you get quiet sometimes, why you look at him like you’re seeing someone else—you just smile. shake your head. press a kiss to his lips and hope he never realizes that you don’t mean it. hope he never realizes that no matter how hard you try—subong is still the only one you see.

he invites you to a show one night, says it’ll be fun. you don’t really know much about it—just that it’s some rap battle tournament called ‘rap battlegrounds’—but you’re bored, and it’s something to do. you don’t ask too many questions because, honestly, you don’t care that much. he picks you up, and you follow him through the neon-lit streets to a club you’ve never seen before, the bass already thumping from inside. he leads you through the crowd to a small corner of the club. it’s dark, gritty, with exposed brick walls and dim, flickering lights that barely cut through the haze of smoke hanging in the air. the floor is sticky. it’s the kind of place you usually avoid, but tonight, you let it slide.

you're barely paying attention, your eyes drifting over the crowd, the noise just background filler. the battles blur together, the hype not really doing anything for you. you're zoning out, tapping your foot to the rhythm of the beat, hoping this night will pass quickly—regretting all your life choices when he wraps his arm around your shoulders. when suddenly, a voice crackles through the mic, cutting through the noise. “yo, yo, yo, we got a real one up next! fresh off that new heat, straight killin’ the game—make some noise for ‘thanos’!” you freeze, snapping your head to the stage as the crowd cheers. “…and he’s goin’ up against the beast, the local legend, the one and only jace ‘the hammer!’”

there’s no way. you blink, trying to process it, but everything’s too dark, shadows everywhere, making you second-guess yourself. but then, you hear it—his voice. your stomach sinks. this is real. subong is here. for a second, you think you might pass out. he’s standing there, center stage, all cocky confidence, rapping like he owns the room. you wish you could ignore it, wish you could pretend he’s just another guy on stage, but he isn’t. and you can’t. and then it happens. his eyes sweep across the crowd, like he’s eating up the attention, and then they land on you. he freezes. just for a second—just long enough for his flow to falter, the words dying on his tongue. the beat keeps going, but he doesn’t, and the guy he’s battling jumps in, taking advantage of the opening. subong blinks, shakes his head, tries to recover—but it’s too late. he’s lost the rhythm, lost the momentum, and the battle ends with subong’s opponent eating up the win. the crowd erupts, but subong doesn’t hear any of it. he stands there for a second, chest rising and falling like he can’t believe it—like he can’t believe he actually lost. then, without another word, he shoves the mic into someone’s hand and disappears behind the stage.

someone else takes the spotlight almost immediately, the next rappers stepping up, music booming through the speakers again. you turn to the guy beside you, grabbing his wrist. “i wanna leave.” he frowns. “what? why?” you glance toward the side of the stage, your stomach twisting. subong won’t just leave it alone—you know him. “i’m just—i’m kinda tired.” the nervousness in your voice alarms him. “are you okay? what’s wrong?” “nothing. i just don’t wanna be here right now.” he studies you, and you can tell the exact moment he realizes how tense you are, how your shoulders are stiff, how you haven’t stopped glancing over your shoulder. his expression softens, just a little. “hey,” he says, voice quieter now. “it’s okay. i’ll take you home.” “yeah?” “of course.” you don’t move when he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. and it feels like… nothing. just lips on lips, a fleeting warmth that barely registers. your chest feels tight, like you need to shake something off, drown something out. so you kiss him back, harder this time, pressing in, searching for something. maybe it’s the adrenaline, maybe it’s the way seeing subong on that stage messed with your head, knocked you off center. maybe you just want to prove to yourself that you can feel that rush with someone else. but you don’t. no matter how deep the kiss goes, no matter how much you try to lose yourself in it, there’s nothing there.

and just a second later, he’s ripped away from you—shoved back so hard he stumbles, nearly knocking into the bar behind him. and when you look up, you already know. subong stands there, shoulders tense, and his eyes locked on you. “what the fuck are you doing?!” “me?! what the fuck are you doing, subong?!” the guy composes himself and goes back next to you with a strained expression, one of his hands caressing his side. “what’s your problem, man?!” “who the fuck is this?” subong demands, his eyes never leaving yours. you exhale sharply. “just leave me alone.” disbelief flashes across his face like you’ve just insulted him. “nah, what the fuck is this?” he gestures vaguely between you and the guy. “this who you’re with now?” the guy straightens up. “is there a problem?” subong laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “yeah, there’s a fucking problem. who the fuck are you?” “just go, subong.” you cut in quickly. “no. i’m not fucking leaving.”

the guy beside you steps in, placing himself between you and subong. “you know this asshole?” he asks you. you sigh, “he’s… we used to be friends,” you reply. “yeah, and i’ve probably fucked her more times than you have, bro,” subong adds, a smirk on his face. “don’t listen to him,” you tell the guy before redirecting your attention to subong. “you’re being more than ridiculous right now. stop it. leave us alone.” he just stares, like he didn’t even hear you. like you didn’t just tell him to fuck off. “ridiculous?” he repeats, like the word itself it’s funny to him. “you wanna know what’s fucking ridiculous? you showing up here with—” he finally looks at the guy, eyes dragging over him like he’s barely worth acknowledging “—this.” “enough! i said… leave us alone.” “no, we need need to talk.” “she told you to leave, man.” the guy interrupts. wrong move. subong’s lips curl into something mean. “and who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?” he sizes him up, scoffing. the guy doesn’t back down. he squares his shoulders, keeping himself between you and subong like he actually thinks that’ll stop him. subong steps closer, just enough to invade his space. you step forward, grabbing the guy’s arm. “seriously, let’s just go—”

subong’s hand shoots out, grabbing his collar. the guy shoves him back instantly, and that’s all it takes. subong’s always been quick to anger, and now he’s pissed. “relax,” the guy says, lifting his hands like he’s trying to de-escalate, but subong’s past that. “relax? you want me to relax when you’re out here kissing my girl?” the guy exhales through his nose. “you wanna fight me over her that bad?” he shakes his head. “man, you already lost once tonight.” subong’s expression shifts in an instant. his shoulders go tense, his nostrils flare, and his jaw locks so tight you swear you can hear his teeth grind. he snaps, swinging first. it’s fast, a punch aimed straight for the guy’s jaw, but he dodges, stepping back just in time. the guy doesn’t waste time. he drives forward, ramming his shoulder into subong’s chest, sending him stumbling back. for a second, you think it might end there—but of course, it doesn’t. subong recovers quick, too quick. he surges forward, grabbing the guy’s shirt and yanking him down just to throw a knee into his ribs. the guy grunts, shoving him off, and then they’re both swinging. fists connect, curses fly, and you can barely keep up. the guy tries to hold his own, landing a few hits, but subong barely flinches. he’s fueled by something else, and he’s not stopping. one punch lands hard against the guy’s cheek, snapping his head to the side. another follows, a brutal hit to his jaw that makes him stumble. then another. and another. the guy grunts, arms coming up to shield himself, but subong doesn’t let up. he grabs the front of his shirt, yanking him forward just to slam his fist into his face again.

blood splatters. and that’s when you snap out of it. “subong, stop!” he doesn’t hear you. “subong!” he pulls back for another hit, and you move before you even think. you grab him by his shirt, using all your strength to shove him back. he stumbles, losing his grip on the guy, his eyes wild when they snap to yours. “what the fuck is wrong with you?!” you scream, chest heaving. subong’s nostrils flare, hands still clenched into fists like he’s seconds away from going back for more. the guy groans, wiping blood from his face. “you broke my fucking nose, man! you’re insane!” he yells. “shut the fuck up,” subong spits, but before he can go at him again, you shove him harder. “leave him alone!” his breathing is heavy, his eyes dark, burning into yours. for a second, you think he might listen, that the fight might finally be over. but then, in one swift movement, he grabs your wrist. “what are you—” you barely get the words out before he pulls you with him, dragging you through the crowd, past the stage. “let go of me!” you struggle against his grip, but he doesn’t stop. people turn to look, but no one moves to intervene. they just watch. before you know it, you’re backstage, away from the lights, away from the eyes—trapped in a space that feels too small.

subong finally stops, shoving you back against the wall. you barely have a second to catch your breath before you’re shoving him off. “what the fuck is wrong with you?! what the fuck was all of that about?! huh?!” you slam your hands against his chest, but he barely moves. his jaw clenches, and when he speaks, his voice is rough. “what the fuck is wrong with me?! you’re really asking me that?! when you’re the one out there acting like a desperate fucking slut?!” your head jerks back, a bitter laugh ripping from your throat. “are you fucking serious right now?! you just beat the shit out of him, and you’re mad at me?! for what?! for moving the fuck on?!” “yeah, i fucking am!” he snaps. before you can react, he steps in, closing the space between you in an instant. his hands come up, slamming against the wall on either side of your head. your whole body tenses. he’s seething, breath ragged and reeking of cheap liquor and god knows what else. “why?!” “because you’re mine!” “yours?! fuck off!” you shove at him again, hard. “and take a goddamn shower while you’re at it. you smell like a fucking alleyway.”

his nostrils flare. “yeah? well, you smell like a cheap whore.” rage flares hot in your chest. “right, because you’d fucking know, wouldn’t you?” you sneer. his head tilts, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. “at least i don’t pretend to have fucking standards. what’s his name, huh?” your stomach turns, but you don’t let it show. instead, you smile. “why? you jealous? go cry about it, asshole.” he leans in, voice dropping to a whisper. “you know he’s just using you, right? you’re nothing but a warm hole to him.” your hand flies up before you can think better of it, shoving his face away. “yeah. like that wasn’t exactly what i was to you too, motherfucker.” he stumbles back a step, running a hand over his jaw. “we never talked about what the fuck we wanted, or what we expected from each other. so don’t—don’t—” “that’s what you tell yourself? that you didn’t lead me on? that you didn’t fuck with my head for months?!” you cut him off. “you’re a fucking coward, subong. too fucking scared to admit you wanted me, but the second i move on, suddenly you give a shit?” “move on? to who? that fucking loser? you think he actually gives a shit about you?” “and you do?” “you can’t just act like we never fucking happened!” “we didn’t happen, that’s the thing!” you shoot back. “you didn’t want to be with me like that,” your voice wavers, but you force yourself to hold your ground. “so you don’t get to fucking act like this. you don’t get to be jealous, you don’t get to start fights over me, and you sure as hell don’t get to drag me back here like you own me.”

his throat bobs as he swallows. he looks away for a second, like if he doesn’t meet your eyes, this won’t sting as much. like he can pretend this isn’t hitting him the way it is. his fingers twitch at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching like he’s trying to hold onto something—maybe the last shred of whatever this used to be. his breath comes sharp through his nose, the kind that’s meant to steady him but doesn’t do a damn thing. “i didn’t mean it like that,” he mutters, voice rough around the edges. “i don’t—i don’t own you.” but there’s something bitter in the way he says it, like he hates that it’s true. like he hates that he ever let it get to this point. you’re not his anymore. you never were, really. “then stop acting like it! don’t try to ruin everything just because you can’t handle the fact that i moved the fuck on!” for a second, he doesn’t say anything. his eyes flick over your face, tongue running over his teeth like he’s trying to stop himself from saying something worse. but then— “if you had, you wouldn’t have let that motherfucker shove his tongue down your throat right in front of me.” you scoff. “you think i did that on purpose?” he steps in, too close, and you instinctively take a step back. “fuck yeah, you did. you wanted me to see it. you wanted to fucking piss me off.” “you piss yourself off, subong! newsflash! not everything is about you! get over yourself.” “get over myself? you made me look like a fucking idiot out there!” “what the fuck are you talking about?” his eyes flash. “you made me lose the fucking battle, man!” you blink, caught off guard for half a second, then roll your eyes. “first of all, i’m not a man. second of all, don’t blame that shit on me.” “right. it’s never your fucking fault, huh?” he shakes his head. “you just get to do whatever the fuck you want and act like it doesn’t affect me.” you throw your hands up. “if you weren’t such a fucking asshole, maybe this wouldn’t have happened!” “yeah?!” “yeah!”

and then there’s silence. thick, heavy silence. his breathing is still ragged, his hands still curled into fists at his sides. your heart is pounding, your own fists clenched just as tight. then subong scoffs, shaking his head. “you’re so fucking full of shit.” “excuse me?” “you wanna talk about me being an asshole when you’ve been ignoring me for months? like i didn’t fucking exist.” the pain in his voice is evident and it catches you off guard. “i wasn’t—i didn’t ignore you. i was trying to heal. you’re seriously throwing that in my face right now?” “yeah, i am. don’t act like you’re the only one who got hurt.” “don’t do that.” “do what? tell the truth? you fucking blocked me, girl!” “no! don’t—don’t twist shit around just to make yourself feel better,” you snap. “you know exactly why i did it. don’t act like you’re the fucking victim.” “who is it then? you?” he scoffs. “oh, eat shit, subong! you never fucking came to see me!” you throw your arms out, exasperated. “not once! you could’ve fixed this, but you didn’t.” his jaw clenches, but he doesn’t look away. “you think i didn’t want to?” “i don’t know what the fuck you wanted!” your voice cracks, but you don’t care. “i called! and texted you every single fucking day!” “and you think that’s enough?! after everything?!” "i almost fucking overdosed!" he yells. "i was at my fucking lowest, and you—" he lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "you weren't there." you shake your head, anger bubbling in your chest. "don't put that on me, subong. you did that to yourself," you snap, voice sharp. "don't fucking guilt trip me with that." "are you serious?" “what do you want me to say? did you expect me to just forget everything and come back to you like nothing happened? you promised me—how many times?—that you weren’t gonna do that shit anymore, and here we are! and not only are you trying to make me feel like a fucking piece of shit for it, but you’re also acting like this—all of this—is my fault? when you were the one who decided i wasn’t good enough to be anything more than a fuck buddy?”

his expression falters—just a flash of something almost guilty—but then he scoffs, masking it with anger. “you’re really trying to act like you didn’t fucking replace me the second i was gone?” “replace you?” you repeat, incredulous. “you can’t be serious right now. i wasn’t the one fucking other people when we were…. whatever we were!” he freezes, his face draining of color for a split second. “don’t bring that shit up.” “oh, I’ll bring it up, alright. because you can’t say that shit to me when you were too busy screwing around while i was waiting for you to call me your fucking girlfriend.” he opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, a group of people walk past, glancing over at the scene. a couple of them whisper, eyes flicking nervously from you to subong. his face hardens, irritation flashing across his features, and without warning, he grabs your wrist. “what the fuck are you looking at?” he snaps at them. the group quickly averts their gazes, pretending they weren’t just watching him. he yanks you away and you struggle for a moment, trying to free yourself from his grip, but he doesn’t let go. you’re too caught up in the heat of the moment to really think about where he’s taking you. before you know it, you’re being shoved through a door into a dimly lit room backstage, the door slamming shut behind him with a force that echoes in the silence. the room is small, cluttered with his belongings—bags, jackets, and scattered items. a mirror with round vanity lights casts a dull glow over the space, reflecting the mess on the counter: a half-empty water bottle, energy drink cans, his vape, a lighter, a bunch of candy wrappers and a few crumpled papers.

“you need to stop doing that!” you snap. “dragging me around like i’m—i don’t know—like i’m some puppet!” he ignores your words. “listen,” he says, “i tried to make it right, okay? i did.” “calling me? texting me?” you scoff, disbelief laced in your voice. “that’s what you think making it right looks like? all you ever did was send bullshit messages—half insults, half nothing at all.” you shake your head. “if you actually meant it, you would’ve come to me. you know where i live, where i work—you had every chance to show up, to prove that you actually gave a damn. but you didn’t.” his voice shakes now. “i thought… i thought you didn’t fucking need me anymore! i thought you’d be better off without me!” “better off without you?! that’s the dumbest excuse i’ve ever heard!” before you can stop yourself, you shove him, hard enough that he stumbles back a step. “you were my fucking best friend, you idiot!” your voice cracks as a tear rolls down your cheek, and you have to look away. “and i…” the words tangle in your throat. you swallow hard, forcing them out. “i fucking loved you.”

the words hit him like a fist to the gut. he swallows, his throat suddenly dry. because he knows. he knows exactly how that feels. he’s loved you too—probably longer than he even realized. but he’s never said it. not properly. not in a way that mattered anyway. and now? now it sounds like it’s too fucking late. “loved,” he repeats. “past tense?” you don’t answer. “you don’t—you don’t love me anymore?” the words slip out before he can stop them, and he hates how pathetic they sound, how fucking vulnerable they make him. “subong i—i’m sorry, i can’t… i can’t do this,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper. “answer me,” he presses, stepping closer, his pulse thundering in his ears. “please.” “i’m not talking about this,” you say firmly, reaching for the door. but he moves faster, pressing his hand against it, keeping you trapped in the small room with him. you squeeze your eyes shut, inhaling sharply. “i don’t want to see you again, subong.” “i do.” “well, i don’t.” “why not?” “because it fucking hurts!” the words barely leave your lips before the weight of everything crashes down on you all at once. “it… it hurts.” your throat burns, and suddenly, you can’t hold it back anymore. a choked sob rips through you, and before you can stop yourself, you’re crying.

subong’s eyes widen for half a second, like he doesn’t know what to do with the sight of you breaking down in front of him. but then, without hesitation, he reaches for you. “i know,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. “i know, baby.” the warmth of him, the familiarity, the way he holds you…it all feels too fucking good. too safe. too much like home. you sob into his shirt, fists clutching at the fabric, body shaking as months’ worth of pain and anger pour out of you. he holds you tighter, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other resting firm against your waist. “i’m sorry,” he breathes.

you suck in a sharp breath, realization slamming into you. and just like that, the warmth turns suffocating. “no,” you whisper, pushing against his chest. he stiffens. “what—” “get off me.” he hesitates, grip loosening slightly, but you shove harder, forcing space between you. “fuck, subong, what the hell am i doing?” he looks at you, confused, almost dazed, like he doesn’t understand why you’re suddenly pulling away. “baby—” “don’t call me that,” you cut him off. “i can’t—i can’t do this with you.” his jaw tightens. “you don’t mean that. you know you don’t.” “i do! because you fucking broke me!” you yell, hands trembling. “and i hate that you still make me feel like this!” you pause, trying to catch your breath, wiping at your face furiously. you hate the way the tears cling to your skin. you hate even more that he’s standing there, watching you cry. you force yourself to steady your voice. “i’m leaving.” “no, you’re not.” he’s there—blocking the door. you let out a frustrated breath, shoving at him again, but he doesn’t move an inch. “subong, move.” nothing. he doesn’t even blink. “is he your boyfriend?” the question throws you off balance. your brows furrow, and for a moment, the anger is eclipsed by confusion. “what?” “that guy. is he your boyfriend?” you exhale sharply, shaking your head as you glare at him. “jesus christ, subong, really?” “is he?” “it’s none of your business,” the words are clipped, laced with venom. his eyes darken. “none of my—?” he drags a hand through his hair, like he’s barely keeping himself together. for a second, it looks like he might actually lose it. “seriously? you can’t even say no?” “why does it matter?!” you snap. “it fucking matters to me!” your heart pounds. you don’t know why it’s so hard to answer, why the words feel like they’re lodged in your throat. his patience wears thin. “fucking hell, just—” “no!” you cut him off. “he’s not my boyfriend, okay?!” you shake your head. “did you fuck him?” “are you serious right now?” “answer the fucking question,” he demands, stepping closer. you scoff, shaking your head. “you’re actually insane.” “fucking answer!” “yes!” the word rips out of you before you can stop it. “yeah, i did. happy now?”

for a moment, he doesn’t react. he just stares at you, like the air has been knocked from his lungs. his jaw clenches, his nostrils flare. but nothing can stop the thought from sinking its claws into him—someone else touching you, having you, getting what he let slip through his fingers. it makes him sick. and it’s his own damn fault. he knows he has no right to be angry. no right to feel this way. but the jealousy curdles in his stomach, and before he can stop himself, the words tear from his mouth like a whip. “you’re a fucking whore.” the second he says it, he hates himself for it. but he doesn’t take it back. your fury is instant, white-hot.“fuck you! don’t call me that!” “i’ll call you whatever the fuck i want!” he snaps. he needs to hurt you, to make you feel even a fraction of what he’s feeling. “you really don’t see how fucking pathetic that is? spreading your legs for some guy who doesn’t even matter?” the words taste like acid in his mouth, but he spits them out anyway. he doesn’t know how else to deal with the anger, the self-hatred he feels. it’s easier to take it out on you than to admit the truth—that he ruined everything, that he’s the reason you were with someone else.

your vision goes red. before you can think, before you can stop yourself, your hand swings up and smacks across his face. his head jerks to the side from the impact, and for a moment, everything is dead silent except for the sharp sound of your ragged breathing. then, slowly, he turns back to you, his jaw tightening, his tongue running over the inside of his cheek like he’s tasting the sting of your palm. “did you just hit me?” his voice is low. oh, he’s angry. “yeah, i fucking did,” you say, your hands trembling. “because you’re a fucking piece of shit!” “you’ve got some fucking nerve!” he seethes, shoving your forehead with two of his fingers, forcing your head back slightly. you slap his hand away, your own anger doubling at the touch. “do that again, and i’ll break your fucking fingers, motherfucker,” you warn. “you just slapped me!” “and you called me a whore twice, subong! i wonder how the fuck i was ever friends with you! you’re a hypocrite!” he steps closer, jabbing a finger in your face. “don’t fucking talk to me like that!” “and i told you many times not to fucking point your finger at me!” you yell, shoving his hand away harder this time. so hard his arm jerks back. “who the fuck do you think you are?! you can’t fucking judge me when you’re the one who—”

his patience snaps. he grabs a nearby chair and hurls it at the wall. it hits with a loud crack, rattling from the impact before toppling over. you flinch, but you don't back down. “real fucking mature.” “you don’t fucking get it.” “why do you even care, huh? you have plenty of other girls to fuck, don’t you?” you spit. “so why the fuck does it matter who i’m with? why is it a problem when you do the exact same shit?” he doesn’t say anything. fine. you’re done here. you reach for the door again, shoving past him. “i’m leaving—” “i lied.” his voice stops you cold. slowly, you turn back, brows furrowing. “what?” he swallows hard. “i lied about it. there was never another girl.” you stare at him in disbelief. “i just—i said that shit to piss you off. to make you hate me. but i never—” he exhales sharply, shaking his head. “i never touched anyone else when i was with you.”

your mind spins, struggling to piece together what he’s saying. he’s lying again. he has to be. “you expect me to believe that?” your voice is defensive. “i don’t give a fuck if you believe me,” he snaps back. “it’s the truth.” your throat tightens. there’s something in his eyes, something desperate, something you’re not used to seeing. “why?” he hesitates. his lips part, then press into a thin line. “because i—” he exhales sharply, looking away for a moment before forcing himself to look at you again. “because i love you. i’ve—” “don’t fucking lie to me, subong.” frustration flashes across his face. “i’m not lying, okay?! i’ve—” “sure as hell you aren’t.” “jesus—can i fucking talk?!” you huff, arms crossing tightly over your chest. your jaw aches from how hard you’re clenching it. but you don’t interrupt again. you let him speak. “i’ve loved you for so fucking long, and it scared the shit out of me. you were my best friend and i didn’t—i didn’t know how to do it. how to be with you without fucking it all up.” you shake your head, gripping your arms tighter. “you can’t just say this shit and think it fixes everything,” you whisper, voice trembling. “you loved me, and you never told me. you preferred this… this shit between us rather than just… being fucking honest. you—” your breath shudders and you stop to breathe for a moment. “you’re confusing me, subong.”

he sighs. you can see it in his eyes—the regret, the pain, the anger at himself. then, he steps closer. his hands find your face, fingers gentle as they cup your cheeks. his thumbs move carefully, wiping away the tears you hadn’t even realized were still falling. his touch is soft—so fucking soft it almost breaks you. you squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing against the lump in your throat. you shouldn’t let him do this. shouldn’t let him hold you like this, shouldn’t let yourself sink into the warmth of his hands. but you do. because it’s him. “i’m sorry, baby” he murmurs, his breath warm against your face. “fuck, i’m so sorry.” his voice is lower now, and when you open your eyes, he’s already looking at you—his brows furrowed. “i didn’t mean to hurt you,” he continues, his hands steady on your face. “i swear to god, i didn’t.” “but you did.” “i know,” he whispers. “i was a fucking idiot.” his thumbs still trace slow paths along your skin, like he’s trying to ground himself in the feel of you. you try to look away, but he won’t let you. his grip isn’t forceful, but it’s firm—just enough to keep you there. “i can’t stop thinking about you,” he says, his brows furrowing deeper, like it physically hurts him to admit it. “no matter what i do—it’s always you.” “don’t—” “it’s the truth,” he cuts in, his hands sliding down to your jaw, his fingers just barely brushing your neck. “i wake up thinking about you. i fall asleep thinking about you. every fucking song i write is about you. every stupid little thing reminds me of you.” you shake your head, blinking back tears. “stop it.” “i can’t,” he breathes. “i don’t know how.”

he leans in slightly, his lips barely an inch from yours. “tell me you don’t feel the same, and i’ll go.” your heart pounds so hard it hurts. he’s so close… and the way he’s looking at you, like he’s daring you to push him away, makes something snap inside you. before he can say another word, you grab his shirt and yank him down, crashing your lips against his. subong freezes for half a second, like he wasn’t expecting it, but then he groans into your mouth, his hands gripping at your waist as he kisses you back just as hard. he barely gives you a second to breathe before he’s backing you up, walking you straight into the wall. the impact makes a sharp gasp escape you, but he swallows it down, one hand threading into your hair, tilting your head back as his mouth moves against yours.

then it happens—your breath catches, and before you can stop it, a tear slips down your cheek. he stops. his lips hover just over yours, his chest rising and falling against you, and he pulls back just enough to look at you. “are you okay?” you don’t answer. instead, you pull him back in, your fingers curling around the back of his neck. you kiss him harder, and he lets you—lets you take what you need, lets you pour everything you can’t say into this. his fingers tangle in your hair, tugging just enough to pull your head back before pressing his forehead to yours. “tell me what’s wrong,” he murmurs, breath hot against your lips. in a broken whisper, you finally say it. “i need you.” he’s been waiting to hear that. for months, it’s been the only thing on his mind—you. every time he got high, every time he tried to flirt with someone else, every time he told himself it didn’t matter, that you didn’t matter. but it was all a lie. because you did. you always did. and now you’re here, in his arms, needing him. and he’s so fucking mad at himself for wasting all this time, for pushing you away, for pretending he didn’t want this when you’ve been the only thing he’s wanted.

that’s all it takes. he’s on you in an instant, his hands gripping your waist as his mouth crashes against yours. he walks with you, never breaking the kiss, his fingers pressing into your sides, guiding you until your legs bump against the edge of a small table. before you can steady yourself, his hands move to your hips, helping you up until you’re perched on top of it. his lips leave yours, dragging along your jaw and your neck. one hand slides up, fingers curving over your breast through the thin fabric of your shirt. the touch alone makes a soft moan slip past your lips. he swallows the sound with another kiss, deep and greedy, before tugging your shirt up, his palms skimming your skin as he pulls it over your head. his other hand moves with purpose, working the clasp of your bra. the second it falls away, his mouth is on you. you gasp when his tongue flicks over your nipple, your head falling back as pleasure shoots through you. “gonna make you feel good, baby,” he promises, his breath hot on your skin as he switches to your other breast, his teeth grazing your nipple just enough to make you squirm. his free hand slides down your stomach, unbuttoning your pants with practiced ease before slipping between your thighs. you spread them instinctively, your breath hitching when his fingers brush against the damp fabric of your panties. “you’re so wet for me already,” he says, pulling back to look at you, his eyes dark with hunger.

subong takes his time peeling your pants off, pressing soft kisses to your thighs, your knees, your ankles. once they’re gone, he hooks his fingers into your panties, dragging them down at the same agonizing pace, his lips following their path. he tosses them aside without a second thought. then he’s on his knees, hands spreading your thighs wider as the cool air hits your skin, making you shiver. “let me show you how sorry i am, yeah?” you nod slowly in response. subong leans in, his breath hot against you, and you bite your lip, anticipation coiling tight in your stomach. and then his tongue is on you, licking a long stripe up your center, parting your delicate folds, exploring your wetness. you gasp when it finds your clit, your hands flying to his purple hair as his tongue swirls around it in slow circles. “f-fuck, yeah, right there,” you whimper, and he hums against you in approval.

he focuses all his attention on it, flicking his tongue over the sensitive nub before sucking it gently into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing out as he applies gentle pressure. you feel one of his fingers slide inside you, then two, curling them upwards and hitting that spot that makes your eyes roll back. his tongue never leaves your clit, licking and sucking in perfect rhythm with his fingers, and you can feel that familiar pressure building in your lower stomach. your hand travels to the side of his face, your thumb caressing his cheek as he works you. moans grow louder, your hips bucking involuntarily against his face. “subong—” you try to speak, but the words die in your throat—the pleasure too strong. he smirks, feeling you tightening around his fingers. “that’s it, baby” his voice is muffled against you. “cum for me.” and you do, your back arching, knuckles white from gripping the side of the table, a cry tearing from your throat as you fall apart. his mouth never stops, drawing every last wave of pleasure from you until you’re boneless, panting.

you try to catch your breath as he stands, pulling you into him, his mouth claiming yours again, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. your fingers tremble slightly as they find the hem of his shirt, slipping beneath the fabric. he shudders under your touch, muscles tensing before he exhales, letting you lift the shirt over his head. it falls somewhere behind him as your hands roam his chest. this isn’t like before. like the other times you’ve had sex. there’s something different in the way his fingers brush your skin, in the way he watches you like he’s afraid to blink, afraid to miss a second of this. you reach for his waistband, tugging at it, and he lets you, his breathing uneven as he watches your hands work him free. his pants and boxers slip to the floor, and he steps out of them, never once breaking contact.

“do you… do you have a condom?” you ask quietly. he stills, his hands resting on your hips as he looks at you. his brows pull together slightly. “no,” he admits, then asks, “do you?” you shake your head. “no.” “shit,” he exhales, his forehead falling to your shoulder. you can tell he’s frustrated—not at you, but at the situation. “it’s… it’s okay. we don’t need one,” you add softly. his head snaps back up. “you sure?” he asks, and you nod. “i want to feel you.” your words are the confirmation he needs. he grabs your thighs before pulling you closer to the edge of the table, spreading them apart to find room between them. his raw tip presses against your clit and you take a deep breath when he starts grinding against you, his stiff dick sliding across your wet slit. you both moan at the feeling, but nothing compares to the gasp that escapes both of your lips the moment he slides inside of you.

he’s slow at first, letting you adjust to the feeling, his hands holding you in place as he sinks in deeper, stretching you around him. you try to steady yourself, holding onto the side of the table with one of your hands again. his breath is uneven, and each slow, measured thrust makes you ache for more. but then his pace shifts. his grip tightens, fingers digging into your skin as he pulls back and thrusts in harder and faster. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the space between you, mixed with your breathless moans and his ragged groans. when you meet his gaze, his brows are furrowed, his lips parted. you can see it all written on his face: how much he’s wanted this, how long he’s been waiting, how badly he’s yearned for you. he looks like he’s barely holding himself together, like he’s afraid he won’t last because you feel too fucking good. “fuck,” he grits out, voice strained, his fingers flexing against your hips. “i missed you s-so fucking much…” his words cut off in a groan, his head dropping forward, forehead pressing to yours as he fucks you like he’s trying to make up for all the lost time. “i missed this… mmm… missed this pretty pussy of y-yours.” he drives into you harder, like he’s trying to claim you, like he’s trying to erase every trace of anyone else who’s ever touched you—muttering curses under his breath like he’s punishing himself as much as he’s fucking you. your nails scrape down his back, leaving red streaks in their wake, and he groans at the sting, at the way you cling to him. “fuck, baby—” he gasps, voice rough. “was he better than me? tell me,” he demands, his thrusts turning brutal, each one punctuating his words. “did he—did he fuck you like this? mmh? shit… did he make you cum like i-i do?” there’s anger in his voice. not at you—at himself. for waiting too long, for not telling you the truth when he had the chance, for letting someone else have you. you shake your head in response. his hand grips your chin, forcing you to look at him. “answer me.” “n-no!” you whimper “he… he didn’t, baby. only you—mmph!—only you make me f-feel this good.”

his grip on your chin tightens for a second before he releases you, his hand sliding down to wrap around your throat instead. not squeezing, just holding—just feeling you. his pace doesn’t slow, if anything, it gets rougher, like your answer wasn’t enough to satisfy the anger. “that’s right,” he grits out, sweat slicking his skin. “he could never…he could never fuck you like this.” his other hand grips your hip hard enough to bruise as he slams into you, making you cry out. you hold onto him, and he loves it—loves feeling you claim him the way he’s claiming you now. and fuck, he needs this, needs to remind himself that you’re here, wrapped around him—that you’re his. “look,” he mutters, commanding. “look how fucking g-good you’re taking me.” your breath hitches as your eyes drop, and fuck—seeing it is different. watching the way his dick disappears inside you, the way your body clenches around him, the way he’s completely buried in you, over and over again… “see that?” he pants. “you were made for me. this was fucking made for me.” his hand moves again, sliding between your bodies, fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight, precise circles. “shit—subong!” you let out a broken moan. “y-yeah… fuck, yeah, just like that!” a whimper slips from your lips when subong fists your hair, tugging your head back up until your eyes meet his again. “say it,” he practically pleads. “say that you're mine.” “i-i'm yours!" you gasp, your voice shaking, your whole body trembling from the intensity of him. “i'm fucking yours…mmm… always been.” “i’m yours too, baby.”

his thrusts grow frantic and his breath comes in harsh, uneven bursts. all he can hear is the sound of his name falling from your lips in desperate, breathless moans. he swears he’s never heard something as beautiful. you can tell he is close, holding you in place as he leans over you, his forehead pressing against yours. your body tenses, your gummy walls clenching around him, his fingers still pressed on your clit as he pounds into you, making it impossible for you to hold back. your body tenses, and your free hand clings to the back of his neck with desperation as you kiss him, trying to muffle your whimpering. “gonna cum for me, b-baby?” he whispers, pulling away for a moment. “gonna—mmh! gonna cum on my cock?” you can’t even nod. his words are like a spark, and you can’t hold it back anymore. your body snaps, the pleasure flooding you. “subong!” you cry out, legs shaking. he watches you, his name on your lips, and the sight of you completely undone drives him to the edge. with a final, deep thrust, he follows you, quickly pulling out, his release spilling into your lower stomach. his face contorts, a strangled gasp escaping him as he rides out his own climax. he stays there for a moment, his body pressed against yours, both of you breathing heavily, sweat-slicked skin sticking together. “i love you,” you whisper, hands running through his messy hair. “i love you too, señorita,” he smirks, his hand cupping your cheek before leaning in to give you a small peck on the lips. “i missed you.”

subong is a good boyfriend. or at least he tries to be. he still messes up sometimes, still says things without thinking, still gets into fights he shouldn’t, but he’s trying. you see it in the way he waits for you after work, hands shoved into his pockets like he’s trying to play it cool, but you know he’s been standing there for a while. in the way he walks on the outside of the sidewalk, even though you never asked him to. you see it in the way he always grabs an extra drink when he stops by the convenience store, handing it to you without a word, like he just knew you’d want one. in the way he texts you did you eat? before he even says hello. in the way he always grumbles about carrying your bag when it looks too heavy, but takes it anyway. in the way he lets you steal his hoodies, rolling his eyes when you show up wearing one but never actually asking for it back. you see it in the way he lets you mess with his hair, even when he pretends to hate it. in the way he looks at you, like he still can’t believe you’re his. in the way he says your name, soft around the edges. in the way he tells you he loves you—not just with words, but in a hundred different ways, every single day.

there’s no confusion anymore. no second-guessing, no wondering where you stand with each other. he wants you, and he’s not afraid to say it. he tells you all the time, in every way he knows how. sometimes it’s casual, like when he looks at you in the middle of a conversation, something soft in his eyes, and says, “you know i love you, right?” like he just needs you to know. and then there are times when he’s shameless about it. like the time he made it his entire mission to embarrass you in front of both of your friends, throwing an arm around your shoulders and grinning as he declared, “isn’t my girlfriend the prettiest woman you’ve ever seen? no offense to you, semi.” there’s a beat of silence before half of them go “what?!” while the others just exchange knowing looks. “wait—dude, since when?!” namgyu asks. “oh, come on,” semi scoffs, rolling her eyes. “like we didn’t all see this coming.” subong just smirks, pulling you a little closer, dropping a kiss to your cheek. he’s here, and he’s yours, and he makes sure you know it.

you’re still best friends. you still laugh until your stomach hurts, still steal food off each other’s plates, still shove at each other like you’re kids. except now he kisses you after. or before. or sometimes instead of shoving you back. he’s still stubborn, still gets on your nerves more than anyone else. he’s not perfect, but he never pretends to be. and maybe that’s what makes it feel so easy. there’s nothing to prove, nothing to question. just the two of you, exactly as you are, exactly as you’ve always been. just you and him.

if you’ve read this far, i love you, let’s get married pookie ong

[houseofaegon]

SKINNY DIPPING pt. 1 ✩ Wally Clark

Pairings: Wally Clark x Fem!reader

Warnings: +18 SMUT MINORS DNI. very slow burn. semi-public sex, unprotected p in v, teasing, heavy sexual tension, explicit dirty talk, praising, degradation, skinny dipping in a public pool, possesiveness/jealousy, light choking, rough gripping & mandhandling, overstimulation, wally being a cocky little shit, risk of getting caught, begging, breeding kink. wally whimpering???? (god have mercy)

Summary: For what feels like an eternity, Y/n and Wally have been nothing more than just friends. but that changes one reckless night when they decide to cross skinny dipping off their "100 things to do before crossing over" bucket list. Teasing and meaningless flirting turn heated, and the tension that has been simmering between them finally snaps. Under the moonlit water, boundaries blur, and their friendship is completely wrecked, in the best possible way.

Author's note: God bless Milo Manheim!!!!!!!!!! I love this idea of having a bucket list of things they want to do before crossing over. It might be cool to make it into a series. idk. We'll see. :) For now, enjoy!! I hope you guys like it. <3 xoxo, nai.

Word count: 1714

Song choices: lose control - teddy swims, tear you apart - she wants revenge, closer - nine inch nails, flawless - the neighbourhood, do i wanna know? - arctic monkeys, TiO - zayn.

masterlist. part 1. part 2.

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Wally had been wandering the halls of the school, bored out of his mind, his thoughts drifting aimlessly as he just tried to make it through another day—not that he ever expected much on a normal one, at least. But then, there were those days. The ones that turned into trouble. The kind of trouble that you made happen.

It didn't really take much to turn an average boring day into something unforgettable when you were involved. You were the life of the party. You and Wally? Every single time you two were together, trouble seemed to follow.

And today? Today was no different.

You had both made a promise long ago: make eternity fun. It was a pact, a way to deal with the fact that you two were dead, with no going back to your old lives. So, you'd sworn to make the most of every single day, even if it meant causing chaos along the way.

You'd even written down an entire bucket list with him. Wally named it "100 things to do before crossing over." You two hadn't really crossed off many of the things you'd written down; some of them were not very possible, given the fact that you two couldn't really leave the school grounds. But that didn't stop you from trying to make every day feel like it mattered.

After walking aimlessly around the school, Wally finally spotted you, sprawled out on the bleachers of the football field. The sun was making your skin glow, and despite the fact that you couldn't tan anymore, you still seemed to soak up every single ray as if you were trying to relieve the feeling of it. One arm draped over your eyes, one leg over the other. Wally smiled; you always found a way to look effortlessly cool and beautiful, even in moments like this.

Wally climbed up the steps, settling on the one just below you, his eyes studying you. "We're gonna have field day in an hour," he said, his voice light. "Mr. Martin wants to do something...different. A bonfire or whatever. I don't know. Rhonda told me."

But you didn't respond. Your silence made him arch an eyebrow.

"You good?" he asked, his tone shifting to a more serious now. He wasn't too used to you being so quiet.

You opened your eyes, lazily glancing at him. “Just thinking,” you murmured, your voice soft.

“Dangerous,” he teased, though he could tell something was off. You smiled at him, rolling your eyes, but he noticed they didn't have that usual sparkle.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked again, a little more worried now.

You propped yourself up, your gaze flickering to the school building for a moment before focusing back on him. “Yeah,” you said, your voice steadier this time. “I’ve just been thinking about that list we made.”

“The one with a hundred things we’re supposed to do before crossing over?” Wally asked, smirking. “We’re halfway through, but there’s still plenty of time left.”

He watched your expression closely, trying to figure out what was going through your head, but you were unreadable as ever.

You shook your head. “We haven’t really crossed off much…” You trailed off for a second, your gaze flicking to the sky before you let out a sigh. “I just feel like... days are getting boring, Wally.”

He tilted his head. “Well, let’s do something not boring, then. Something stupid.”

“Define stupid.” You raised an eyebrow.

Wally’s lips curled into that signature cocky grin. The one that always meant he was about to take things to another level.

“Number 16,” he said, his eyes gleaming.

“Do you expect me to remember?” You shot back, trying to act nonchalant, but there was a flutter of excitement in your chest.

He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Skinny dipping, dumbass.”

You froze for a moment, processing his words. Your mind raced, the idea catching you off guard. It was reckless, a little insane—but totally on brand for the two of you.

"You're serious?" you asked, staring at him with a mix of disbelief.

Wally leaned forward slightly, his voice low, his gaze burning with that familiar mischievous fire. “Dead serious.”

You couldn’t help it. A wicked smile spread across your face as you locked eyes with him. It was just a stupid thing to do. Just another one of your meaningless games. No harm in it, right?

"You're insane," you muttered under your breath, pushing yourself off the bleacher to stand right in front of him. You looked down at him, your gaze meeting his with a challenge in your eyes.

Wally just shrugged. “Yeah, well, eternity wouldn’t be fun if we weren’t at least a little bit insane.” His eyes traced the curve of your body, the unspoken tension between you both suddenly feeling palpable, thick in the air.

You swallowed, suddenly aware of the heat that seemed to spark between you both. “I swear you’ll get us caught.” You half joked, but the wild idea was starting to feel too good to back away from.

“Let’s make it quick then,” he replied. “We’ll make sure no one sees us.”

"I swear, Wally, if we get caught... I'll kill you," you warned, your voice a mix of a playful threat.

Wally chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. "You wouldn't," he teased, but there was a spark of mischief in his eyes that made your stomach flip. "Besides, it's not like anyone's out there anyway. Everyone's off by the bonfire, telling ghost stories or whatever it is they do. We're fine. I'm sure they won't miss us."

You shot him a skeptical look, doubting if you should agree to it but you craved the adrenaline more.

"Come on," he grinned, grabbing your hand. "Let's go have some fun."

The thrill and the adrenaline coursed through you as you followed him, letting him guide you through the school. Wally was always the one to get you into trouble, but you couldn't deny how much you loved it.

As you both snuck through the hallways, being very careful to avoid Rhonda, Charley, Mr. Martin, or anyone who might spot you. You both could hear the muffled sounds of chatter echoing from the field.

When you finally reached the indoor pool, Wally paused at the entrance, opening the door slowly, and scanning the room. It was empty. The sun was almost gone, and the full moon shone brightly through the roof, illuminating the pool in a way that made the entire space feel almost otherworldly.

Wally turned back to you, a grin spreading across his face. "Looks like we have the place all to ourselves."

"Good," you smiled. "Kinda wanted some alone time, y'know?"

Wally's smile grew bigger, his gaze deepening. He took a step closer to you, his eyes locked onto yours. "I was actually thinking the same thing," he said, his voice low, more intimate. There was a flicker of something between you, a feeling that had been there for a while but neither of you had ever acknowledged it. "Just you and me."

"Just you and me," you repeated slowly, the words lingering in the air between you two.

For a second, everything faded away. The pool, the school, the world—it all felt distant, like a memory. It was just you and him, standing there in the moonlit pool, the adrenaline cursing through your veins.

Wally's hand was still intertwined with yours; his touch was warm, and even though you were technically dead, you still felt alive in moments like this. His gaze never left yours as he stepped closer, his breath becoming quicker.

"You sure about this?" he asked, his voice a mix of excitement and something else, something deeper, though it was hard for you to place.

You met his gaze and smirked. "Dead serious."

Wally's lips curled into a grin, there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes and it made your pulse quicken. The weight of his gaze on you caused your head to spin, his presence was overwhelming. He leaned in, his voice lowering to a whisper that sent shivers down your spine. "Just us?"

"Mhm," you nodded, your gaze never leaving his.

There was a subtle shift in Wally's demeanor, a possessiveness in the way he looked at you, but it wasn't the kind that felt controlling, it was the kind that made you feel like he was claiming this moment, claiming you, without saying a word. The air grew heavy with the weight of unspoken thoughts, you couldn't really tell if it was the adrenaline or something else, but you felt your heart pound louder in your chest.

"Yeah?" Wally repeated, a challenging tone lacing his voice, his smile never wavered. He stepped a little bit closer, closing the distance between you, his body just a fraction of an inch from yours. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the tension between you so strong, so thick you could almost touch it.

You tilted your head slightly, feeling the weight of his gaze, how it seemed to pierce right through you, taking in every single inch of you. His pupils were wide, dark, hungry, and the intensity of his stare made your heart race faster than before.

There was no going back now.

And honestly? You did not want to.

"Yeah," you whispered, a little breathless, words barely escaping your lips.

Just you and him, no distractions, no one to come between you two, no rules, no secrets, no limits.

Just you and him.

"So...Skinny dipping?" his lips brushed against your ear, his voice now a low whisper.

This might actually be the worst idea you've ever had. You'd suggested skinny dipping as a joke, both drunk and laughing while writing the list, not actually expecting him to go forward with it.

But here you were, bodies so close you could feel the heat radiating off of him, the air thick, almost suffocating. His eyes so dark, filled with something you couldn't quite describe, but you knew this wasn't just about a dare anymore.

This wasn't just a game.

It was about to become something entirely different, something that could change everything, ruin everything, but... maybe, just maybe, you wanted it to. 

[moonstruckme]

Hi lovely, any chance you could do James x reader who is stressing over exam season?

Thanks for all the great work bb we appreciate it so much :)

Thank you angel, I love you <3

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 768 words

“Hey, lovely girl.” James comes up behind your chair with an arm around your front and a kiss to your head, surreptitiously slipping away your coffee. “How’s it going?” 

“It’s going fine,” you say. It’s a lie, but you have larger concerns. Your boyfriend is acting suspicious. “What are you doing?” 

“Just checking in on you.” 

“No, what are you doing with my drink?” 

“I was thinking we could make an exchange,” James says casually. 

You sigh, both craving and resenting the break. “I need to focus. No side quests.” 

“This isn’t a side quest. It’s a…a brief deviation—”

“That’s another way to say side quest.” 

“You didn’t let me finish. A brief deviation which will ultimately result in you being more productive.” 

You pause. “Okay…” 

James stamps a happy kiss to your hair. “So, first, I was thinking we could pick up some matcha or something—” 

“James,” you cut him off gently, “that’s a sweet thought, but matcha doesn’t have any caffeine in it.” 

“I’ve heard that, yeah. That’s a key feature of the plan, as it happens.” 

“I feel like I sort of need caffeine for my studying, lovely.” 

James makes a wishy-washy humming sound. It buzzes against the top of your head where he rests his chin. “Have you noticed that you’re vibrating?” he asks.

“I’m…” You take a quick stock of yourself. You feel exhausted, drained. Not vibratey. “No, I’m not.” 

“Mhm. I can actually feel your heart beating against my arm right now.” 

Now that he says so, you can feel it too. “Well, I’m nervous.” Your voice takes on an unintentional sharpness. “I’ve got three exams this week, and I want to do well. I can’t just check out.” 

James might have been anticipating you’d get prickly. He stays perfectly calm, only sweeping his thumb over your collarbone mollifyingly. You feel instantly ridiculous for your small breakage.

“I know, angel,” he says, in that everything’s-just-fine voice of his. “I get that you’re stressed. And it sucks that it is so stressful, but I’m not saying you should check out. I just want to make your studying go easier.” 

You’re quiet, guilty and embarrassed for sniping at him when he’s so relentlessly kind to you. James never does anything but make things easier for you, even when he’s not trying to. He makes your life easier just by existing. 

James lets go of you with the arm across your chest to squat by your chair, looking up into your face. He touches his thumb to the top of your cheekbone. 

“You look like your eyes hurt.” 

“They do,” you admit. 

He smiles ruefully. “Can I tell you the rest of the plan?” 

“Yeah. Sorry.” 

“I was thinking we’d take our matcha—or uncaffeinated beverages of your choice—and go to the park by Remus’ place. It has that little quiet area down the trail, remember? You could bring your books. It’d still be studying, but” —James shrugs, looking at the bright light you’ve positioned above your textbook, your grimy coffee mug, the chair you’ve been sitting in since you got up this morning— “this isn’t good for you. Maybe a change of scenery will help.” 

Now it’s you wanting a deviation. A side quest, an excuse to check out. You want to take James’ face between your hands and spend the rest of the week ensuring no inch of it goes unkissed. Screw exams. When he looks at you like this, so wholesome and earnest and chock full of good intentions, you genuinely think you must be the luckiest girl in the world. 

“That sounds nice,” you say. 

James grins, and god, his dimples dig in so deep you really could get lost in them if you let yourself. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” You give in slightly to indulgence, leaning down to press your lips to his cupid’s bow. Retracting before you forget about exams altogether. “That’s a really lovely idea, Jamie. Thank you for thinking of it.” 

“Well, it wasn’t hard,” he says breezily. “All I had to do was think to myself, if I were wearing my eyes out being a swot all day, where would I rather be?” 

You smile. James’ doubles in wattage because of it. “Well, you nailed it. That sounds perfect.” 

“Plans are my forte, lovely. Let’s see, maybe we try studying there until the sun starts to go down, and then you can call it quits for the evening.” 

“I thought we agreed on no checking out.” 

“But what if I put cucumbers on your eyes? That’s not checking out, that’s just rejuvenation.” 

“I…might be slightly more amenable to that.”

[mononijikayu]

until i found you — ryomen sukuna.

"I figured you’d be into something more... aggressive music." you admitted, watching as he leaned back, arms crossed, listening intently. He scoffed. "What, you think I only listen to music that makes me wanna fight people?" "...Yes?" "Tch. Idiot." He turned his attention back to the music, tapping his fingers idly against his knee. "This one’s alright. But Tchaikovsky’s better." Your jaw dropped. "Wait, you like Tchaikovsky?" "Yeah? And what?" You shook your head in disbelief. "I just... I wouldn’t have guessed." "What, you think I don't have taste?" "I know you don’t have taste."

Genre: Alternate Universe — College! AU;

Warning/s: Short Fic, General Rating, AFAB! Reader, Use of She/Her, Use of Female Centered Identification, Pet Names (Babe, My Love, Etc), Romance, Fluff, Humour, Love, Comfort/No Hurt, Established Relationship, Lovers, Dating, Feeling, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Idiots In Love, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Teasing, Healthy Relationship, Friendships, Profanity, Swearing, Violence, Depiction of Violence, Mention of Violence, Volleyball Captain! Sukuna, Boyfriend! Sukuna, Girlfriend! Reader;

Words: 8.6k words.

Note: i'm so sorry for the delay on the satosugu fic, the time frame of my schedule is not allowing me to go and finish it. its going to be delayed. as my apology, please enjoy this litle thing from me. also, im opening commissions, so if you wanna commission me, look here!!! in any case, i love you all so much. see you soon <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

lovesick playlist

IT WAS NOT LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT LIKE EVERYONE THINKS IT IS.  Not all love stories were meant to be that, after all. But it was interesting nonetheless that it was how you got to know about him for the first time.

The first thing you heard from where you stood was that rather brutish hit of impact. A dull, sickening thud followed by a sharp grunt of pain.

The loud and rowdy crowd that had gathered near the school gate was already thick by the time you arrived. At the back where you stood, their voices a mix of eager whispers and nervous gasps.

A fight wasn’t uncommon near the school, there were quite a lot of delinquents in your school. Even the teachers were wanting to stay clear of it. But the sheer energy in the air told you this wasn’t just any fight. 

You pushed up on your toes trying to see above all these tall figures, craning your neck to see past the wall of uniformed backs. And that’s when you spotted him. Your eyes couldn’t help but widen at the sight you were seeing now. 

That pink haired standing tall above that guy.

His name escaped you, but you’ve heard of him. His name carried weight even in places he had never stepped foot in. If anything, it brought chills to people’s spines. The goosebumps were always felt just at the mention of his name, just as much as fear echoes when you catch his darkened eyes. You’ve never seen him before, that was for sure. But you’ve heard of him. And he had quite the name. 

This is what your friends were talking about. This is a delinquent in the purest sense—not the kind that smoked behind the gym and skipped class for fun, but the kind who sent people to the hospital and still walked away with that damned smirk on his face. And he was smirking now.

Even with the blood bellowing down on his lip, the brutally raw scrape on his knuckles ensuing through each punch, the loose tie hanging off his collar. You could tell he just really looked bored.

That had surprised you more than anything, if you were being honest. You thought that this would at least feel like a thrill for him. Violence usually feels like that. You would have thought a delinquent would feel that way.

Yet it was like he was toying with the guy in front of him, who was hunched over helplessly, clutching his ribs and struggling to breathe at the act of being beaten down by the fiend in front of him.

And still, it was the most uninteresting thing he’s ever found himself doing. This fuschia haired young boy seemed so bored at the prospect of this kid not being able to fight back, or be interesting.

“Oi.” Sukuna drawled, tilting his head as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You done already? That’s pathetic.”

The other guy barely managed to lift his head before the fuschia haired kid moved—fluid, effortless, the kind of speed that made it clear this wasn’t just some reckless brawl. His fist collided with the guy’s jaw, sending him staggering back into the school gate with a loud clang.

“I thought you’d have more fun fighting, huh? You were having so much fun staring at a girl’s skirt just a bit, weren’t you? Come on, you prick. Get up!” 

Somewhere in the crowd, someone flinched. 

Someone else muttered a curse under their breath.

And you—you just stared at what was happening in front of you.

It wasn’t just the violence that had you frozen. It was the way he carried himself, the sheer audacity in every motion. He wasn’t just winning. He was playing over and over again like it was a game, even if it wasn’t. Like a predator dragging out the inevitable just because he could. And he wanted to hunt, he wanted to eat the weak from down under his feet. 

Then, his scarlet gaze lifted.

For a single, breathless second, your eyes met.

A slow, deliberate shift came about him. It was like he had known you were watching the entire time but only now decided to acknowledge it. The corner of his mouth curled upward, something dark and knowing twisting in his expression.

He had noticed you.

A strange heat crawled up your spine, a mix of adrenaline and unease. You weren’t sure what unnerved you more. The fact that he had seen you, or the fact that you couldn’t look away.

 His gaze had been fleeting. It was just a flicker of recognition before he turned back to his opponent. Yet, the fight wasn’t over.

And for some reason, you got the feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time Ryomen Sukuna looked your way. The thought made something tighten in your chest. Then all that was left was a a sharp crack.

A dull, sickening thud as his beaten opponent hit the pavement, groaning in pain. You barely had time to process it as you held your breath, before someone beside you finally snapped out of their stunned daze.

“Someone there, please go and call the teachers to break up the fight!”

The voice jolted you back to reality. A murmur rippled through the crowd—some of the students were panicked, the others seemed to be too excited, some already pulling out their phones and calling help, some were taking a video. 

But that pink haired kid? 

He just laughed.

Low, rough, full of something almost thrilled as he rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, like the fight had barely warmed him up. The poor bastard groaned, barely managing to lift his head before slumping back down.

“You done?” he asked, gaze dropping to the guy on the ground.

The pink haired kid merely scoffed, brushing dust off his uniform before turning away, completely unbothered. Then his gaze flickered up again. Right at you. It barely lasted only a second. But it was intentional. Like he was acknowledging you. Marking you.

And just like that, with teachers finally rushing onto the scene, that kid with the pink hair turned on his heel and walked off, slipping through the growing chaos like he hadn’t just left another name to fear in his wake. You exhaled, stomach tight, fingers curled into your sleeves.

You should forget this. Forget him.

But you knew—deep down, you wouldn’t.

And something told you that he wouldn’t, either.

══════════════════

YOU WERE SURE THAT THIS WAS GOING TO BE YOUR PEACEFUL TIME. After all, the school rooftop was supposed to be empty during lunch time. Lately, it has been your sanctuary after a long morning of back to back classes.

It was the one place you could escape to when the noise of everything became too much, when the dull routine of school felt suffocating. Up here, the wind was sharp, the air felt clearer, and for just a little while, you could be alone.

But today, someone else was here.

Someone wasn’t supposed to be there.

Yet you can tell someone up there from just the slit of the door.

You quickly noticed him the moment you stepped through the rooftop door. It was a figure sprawled across the concrete near the fence, arms behind his head, one knee bent, the other leg lazily extended.

Even before you fully registered who it was, your body tensed, instincts screaming at you to retreat. But then your eyes landed on his face, and your breath caught in your throat. That kid from the fight on the first day.

Wait, what the hell? You think to yourself almost panicked. Why is he here?

You tried to remember his name for a moment, racking your brain.

That’s right! You gasped quietly to yourself. It’s Ryomen. Ryomen Sukuna. That’s what his name was!

Even asleep, he looked like trouble. His uniform was rumpled, the first few buttons undone, his tie discarded somewhere beside him. A faint cut graced his cheekbone. It seems to be fresh, like he had gotten into another fight earlier but couldn’t be bothered to clean up before crashing here. He must have been exhausted from the fight.

You should leave. You really should. The last thing you needed was to get caught in his orbit. But the thought of giving up your quiet retreat made frustration coil in your stomach. So, with careful, measured steps, you sat down a few feet away, placing your lunch in your lap and making sure to keep your movements silent. Maybe—just maybe—if you were lucky, he wouldn’t wake up.

You weren’t lucky. It happened in an instant. A low breath, a subtle shift. Then, his scarlet eyes snapped open. A cold, sinking weight settled in your chest as your gaze locked with his.

It was the first time you had ever seen his eyes up close. 

They weren’t just sharp, they were dangerous. It was like a blade that glinted under the light, beautiful in its lethality. There was no haze of sleep in them, no confusion. Just silent, unwavering awareness. A predator waking to find someone in its space. His gaze flicked over you, slow and deliberate, before settling back on your face.

“…...The hell are you staring at?” His voice was rough from sleep, low and edged with irritation.

You stiffened, fingers tightening around your chopsticks. Your brain scrambled for a response, something that wouldn’t make this worse. “…Nothing.”

His thick brow twitched. For a second, you thought he might call you out on your lie. But he seemed too tired to even care. Ryomen Sukuna let out a lazy scoff, stretching his arms over his head with a bone-popping crack before settling back down.

“Tch. Whatever.”

And just like that, he closed his eyes again.

You blinked. That was it?

No sneering remarks? No challenge?

The tension in your chest didn’t ease, but the kid didn’t seem to care about your presence anymore. Like you weren’t worth his energy. Like you were barely an afterthought.

The wind carried the distant sound of the school bell ringing in the distance, signaling the lunch break was halfway over. You forced yourself to exhale, slow and steady, before finally peeling open your lunch box.

Maybe, just maybe, you could still eat in peace.

But something told you this wasn’t the last time your paths would cross.

And that thought was far more unnerving than you wanted to admit.

You tried to ignore him.

Tried to focus on your lunch, on the way the wind ruffled your uniform, on the distant sounds of students laughing below. Anything but the fact that Ryomen Sukuna was still there, barely a few feet away, resting like he owned the entire rooftop.

But no matter how much you tried to tune him out from the background as you ate, the weight of his presence lingered. It was like a storm cloud on the horizon, waiting to crack open.

The silence just continued to stretch through the blowing winds. Then, you felt a shift. A quiet, subtle rustling of fabric as the fuschia haired kid turned his head slightly, cracking one eye open in your direction.

“You always eat up here?”

You faltered mid-bite. “Huh?”

His tone wasn’t particularly interested in what you were doing or why you were here, but the fact that he was speaking to you at all was… unsettling. Everything about this moment just felt too tense, it was making your stomach spin. A moment passed before you swallowed and forced yourself to respond. 

“…Yeah.” You finally whispered back at him.

Sukuna made a low sound—half amusement, half acknowledgment. “Tch. Thought so. You don’t look like the type to sit with all the other idiots down there.”

You frowned, unsure whether that was supposed to be an insult or not. But he didn’t elaborate. Instead, he shifted onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow now, watching you with an unreadable expression. It made your skin prickle.

“…What?” you muttered, feeling the need to break the silence.

His smirk curled slow and lazy, like he was enjoying something only he understood. “Nothing.”

Liar. You think to yourself, gripping your chopsticks too hard. This kid…..

His scarlet gaze stayed on you for a second longer, then, without another word, he flopped back down, arms behind his head once more. A breeze passed between you, carrying the faint scent of metal and sweat. It was as though the remnants of whatever fight he had been in earlier bristles past you both.

You should have been relieved that he lost interest, that he wasn’t prying any further. But something about the way he had looked at you left an uneasy weight in your chest. As if, despite everything, despite the distance you had tried to keep.  He had just decided you were interesting.

You tried to keep eating, but your appetite had taken a hit. Something about the way Ryomen Sukuna had looked at you unnerved you. It was that look, that lazy, knowing, look. It was like he had already decided something about you. And that had more than ever made it hard to focus on anything else.

The rooftop had always been your place. 

It was your quiet retreat to begin with. 

But now, with him here, it felt different. 

Everything just felt like it was off-balance, occupied.

You stole a glance at him. He was still lying there, arms behind his head, eyes closed again like he hadn’t just made your skin crawl a moment ago. His breathing was steady, his expression unreadable, but you knew better than to think he wasn’t aware of everything around him.

He was too sharp for that. The last thing you wanted was to let him think he had you rattled, so you forced yourself to eat. One bite. Another. Just ignore him. You were going to finish with your meal soon enough.

You can go back and take a walk after this. You busied yourself with finishing the meal, letting the silence reign over. But the silence didn’t last long, as you would like to hope.

“So?”

You paused mid-chew, blinking. “What?”

Sukuna didn’t move. “How long are you gonna sit there pretending I don’t exist?”

You stiffened. His voice was laced with amusement, but there was something else underneath it. You couldn’t help but think that there was something unreadable in there. It was mysterious, it was a pandemonium you could never know escape from. It was like he remains that sphinx who wants your attention to solve his enigma.

“I’m not pretending about anything.” you muttered, keeping your gaze on your lunch.

“Yeah?” A soft chuckle, low and lazy. “Then why do you look so tense?”

Your chopsticks froze in place. You weren’t tense. Were you? That had made you sit still, even more frozen than before as you start to question yourself. Before you could answer, Ryomen Sukuna finally moved, rolling onto his side to look at you again. The way his sharp eyes dragged over you made your spine go rigid, and you hated that he noticed.

“Tch.” he scoffed. “You really don’t talk much, huh?”

You swallowed down your irritation. “I don’t see a reason to.”

That made him smirk. “Smart.”

You didn’t know why, but the word felt like a backhanded compliment. Then, as if he had already lost interest, he flopped back onto his back, exhaling like he had all the intention of that being his last breath to you. 

This whole interaction was nothing more than an afterthought to him. 

You should have been relieved all about it. 

But somehow, you just weren’t.

Because for some reason, Ryomen Sukuna’s presence lingered in your mind like a storm you couldn’t quite ignore. Even as you left that place, knowing he’d fallen back asleep, you found yourself in a quagmire of him. Your lips pressed into a line as you walked back into the hallways. You had a sinking feeling that this wasn’t the last time you’d find him up here.

And you were right to feel it. 

A few days passed.

And just as you feared, Ryomen Sukuna did in fact keep showing up.

The first time that happened, you thought it was a coincidence. Maybe he was just skipping class, maybe he liked the solitude too, though nothing about Ryomen Sukuna screamed quiet loner.

But by the fifth time, you knew better.

You pushed open the rooftop door one afternoon, lunch in hand, only to find him already there—again. This time, he was sitting up, arms resting on his knees, a cigarette dangling between his fingers, the smoke curling lazily in the breeze.

You hesitated in the doorway. “That’s illegal for a kid to do, you know?”

“Does it matter?” He glanced at you, expression unreadable. “You’re late.”

Your grip tightened on your lunchbox. “I didn’t know we had a schedule.”

A lazy smirk pulled at his lips. “We do now.”

You didn’t respond, just walked past him and sat in your usual spot, a careful distance away. Ryomen Sukuna didn’t say anything after that, just went back to watching the sky, flicking ash from his cigarette with a slow, practiced motion.

It was almost peaceful, you would say. Well, almost. But even in silence, he was there, taking up space, shifting the air around him like gravity itself bent to his will. And you hated that you were starting to get used to it. It was starting to get a little bit more comfortable to you, the concept of being together.

Halfway through your meal, he spoke again. “What’s your deal?”

You blinked. “What?”

He turned his head slightly, looking at you with a lazy sort of curiosity. “You. You always eat alone, you don’t talk much, and you look like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

You frowned, ignoring the prickle of irritation at how easily he had read you. “Maybe I just don’t like people.”

Sukuna chuckled, low and amused. “Yeah? Same.”

He flicked the cigarette away, watching the embers burn out as it hit the concrete. Then, before you could think of a response, he leaned back against the metal chain linked fence, stretching his arms out over the metal railing, and exhaled like he had just decided something.

“Guess I’ll keep you company, then.”

You nearly choked. “Excuse me?”

Sukuna grinned, sharp and cocky. “You don’t like people. I don’t like people. We can not like people together.”

You stared at him, searching for some kind of punchline, some hint that he was messing with you. But he just looked at you, completely at ease, like he had already made up his mind and your opinion didn’t matter. Something about that made your stomach twist.

You narrowed your eyes. “I didn’t ask for company.”

He shrugged. “Too bad. You’ve interested me.”

You frowned. Interested in him?

That wasn’t something you wanted. 

Not from Ryomen Sukuna.

Your chopsticks hovered over your lunch as you tried to pretend like his words didn’t bother you, but you could feel his scarlet gaze still on you—watching, studying. Like you were a puzzle he was in no rush to solve, content just to poke at the pieces and see what happened.

“That’s not my problem, Ryomen.” you muttered, stabbing a piece of food a little too aggressively.

Sukuna only chuckled, the sound low and amused. “You’re acting like you have a choice.”

That made your eye twitch. You set your chopsticks down with a quiet click, turning to finally face him. “I do have a choice.”

He smirked, head tilting slightly. “Do you?”

His confidence was infuriating. And you hated how smooth it was. You hated how he just knows he’s right.  He wasn’t asking you. You knew that. He was stating, dictating as if he had already decided the outcome, as if whatever you thought didn’t really matter. And that irritated you more than anything else.

“You can’t just show up here and declare that we’re friends or something.” you snapped.

Sukuna scoffed. “Who said anything about being friends?”

That threw you off. “…Then what the hell do you want?”

He grinned, sharp and wolfish, like he had been waiting for you to ask. “Dunno. You’re interesting. Thought I’d stick around and see what you do.”

Your stomach twisted at that.

Like you were some kind of entertainment.

God, how much you wanted to curse just now.

Your lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m not here to entertain you.”

Sukuna leaned back against the fence, completely unfazed. “Good. That’d be boring.”

You exhaled through your nose, trying to wick away the irritation bubbling under your skin. There was no point in arguing with him. The more you pushed, the more he seemed to enjoy it. So instead, you picked up your chopsticks and ignored him.

A breeze swept through the rooftop. Ryomen Sukuna didn’t speak again, but you could still feel his presence lingering beside you—heavy, unwavering, unmoving. It wasn’t a threat. Not exactly. But it wasn’t nothing, either.

And deep down, you had the unsettling feeling that no matter how much you resisted, no matter how much space you tried to put between yourself and him. Sukuna had already decided. And he wasn’t going anywhere. Just like that, that conversation was over.

You watched as Sukuna leaned back against the fence again, tilting his head up toward the sky, completely unbothered, like he hadn’t just decided to insert himself into your space without permission. Like it was inevitable. And deep down, no matter how much you wanted to deny it as you ate your lunch, you had a feeling he wasn’t wrong.

══════════════════

YOU REALLY SHOULD HAVE NOT LET HIM DECIDE THIS ‘FRIENDSHIP’ YOU BOTH HAVE. You really should have known when to put your foot down. But you just really were not that good at getting it across as he has. This is why you were stuck in this situation. You glared as you sat there and decided that Ryomen Sukuna was an absolute menace.

Your new friend was someone who was a feared name across campus. A natural-born fighter. A troublemaker with a cocky smirk and a sharp tongue that could tear people apart just as effectively as his fists.

And yet, here he was irritating you to death with that smirk on his lips as he quipped you a new joke you absolutely hated. Here he was, sitting on the rooftop like some stray cat, drinking a strawberry milk carton and eating anpan like a child at recess.

You like to think that if he was just not making those annoying jokes and just sat down and let you watch him eat in silence, mayhaps you would be more mildly amused as he took slow sips of the sweet drink.

“You look like you’re thinking too hard, hm?” Sukuna said, voice full of that lazy, smug amusement that made your eyes twitch.

You didn’t respond. Just glared. Ryomen Sukuna, looking unfazed as always, took another obnoxiously slow sip of his strawberry milk, the straw making an irritating slurping noise that set your teeth on edge.

“Let me guess…..” he continued, tapping his chin in mock thought. “You’re wondering how the hell you got stuck with me, aren’t you?”

You set your lunch down with a sharp click and gave him a look. “I wasn’t wondering. I know exactly how. You forced it.”

Sukuna grinned. “Damn right, I did.”

You wanted to throw his anpan off the roof.

It was insufferable, how much he enjoyed this, how much he enjoyed riling you up. Lately, it was like it was his new favorite pastime. And the worst part? You weren’t even sure if he was doing it on purpose or if he was just naturally this unbearable.

“You could, you know.” he mused, watching you with an almost amused curiosity.

You frowned. “Could what?”

He smirked. “Tell me to get lost. Put your foot down. Give me a real reason to leave.”

Your fingers clenched slightly, grip tightening around your chopsticks. He was daring you. Testing you. He wanted to see if you’d actually do it. And the problem was—you should. You really should. But the words wouldn’t come out.

Because despite how much he irritated you, despite how much you wanted to not be in this situation… there was a part of you that knew: Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t just a delinquent. He wasn’t just a troublemaker or some violent, cocky bastard who liked to fight. 

You knew that he was a force of nature, one that has overwhelmed you more than anything else. And trying to push him away was like trying to tell a storm to stop blowing. So instead of answering, you just scowled and turned back to your food, hoping he’d drop it.

Sukuna chuckled, shaking his head as he took another sip of his drink. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

Menace. Absolute menace.

You were never getting rid of him.

And worst of all? You weren’t even sure if you wanted to anymore.

You could only sigh as the long reach of his fingers lazily crinkled the carton. The contrast between his usual rough demeanor and this absurdly peaceful moment never failed to amuse you. More often than not, after these little breaks, he would stretch his legs out, lean against the railing, and pass out. Like clockwork.

And somehow, without either of you ever talking about it, it became a routine. You would sit beside him, pretending to read or scroll through your phone, only to glance at him as he inevitably dozed off, arms crossed, head tilting slightly to the side.

There were times when he’d wake up with a soft mutter. "Well, well, well. You’re still here, aren’t you?"

And you would always reply the same way. "Well, yeah. Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t roll off the roof and die."

At first, he just scoffed at you. 

But over time, it changed.

The thanks he used to mutter under his breath became a little clearer. The hesitation in his voice lessened. And then there were the nights when he wasn’t just tired—he was beat. Bruised knuckles, scuffed knees, a split lip that he’d wipe with the back of his hand as if it was nothing.

You had quietly started bringing bandages for him from time to time. The first time you handed him some, he stared at them like you had just offered him a kidney. It was really a pitiful sight, that look in his eyes, both of you knew that.

And yet all at once, it was interesting. That warmth you never expected to see in his eyes. One that he had never expected to feel, one that you had never expected to know.

“Don’t need ‘em right now.” he muttered.

You just stared back. “Sure you don’t.”

He clicked his tongue, but after a moment, he snatched them from your hand anyway. “Tch. You’re so damn nosy.”

That continued for a while. And somehow, that too evolved. At some point, mealtime got involved. It started with him watching you eat one day, his gaze flicking between you and your food like he was debating whether or not to ask.

“You want some?” you finally said, raising an eyebrow.

He scoffed. “No.”

Not even five minutes later, his gaze still hadn’t left your food.

You sighed. “You’re a terrible liar, goddamn. All you eat is anpan. Of course you want this.”

“Shut up.”

You ended up splitting your lunch with him that day. At times, you realized he had a bigger appetite. So you pack more and more, so you both can share more food to last you the day for energy. 

You thought it would be a one off thing, but then you kept packing more and more every day. And then the next. And then the day after that. And somehow, before you even realized it, lunch breaks together on the school rooftop became another routine, like a picnic made for the two of you. Some days, you’d talk about random things between bites.

"Have you ever thought about how weird the school anthem is? Like, who wrote that?"

"Probably some dead guy, stop overthinking it." He snickers, eating the lunch you made for him. 

On the other mundane days, you’d find yourselves caught up in a very serious competition over stolen playing card games he brings to school. Well, card games he finds somewhere you didn’t even want to think about.

"You pocketed these off a junior?" you asked in disbelief, shuffling the deck.

Sukuna smirked, leaning back against the railing. "Dumbass lost a bet."

"You bullied a much younger kid for this?"

"Tch. He knew the stakes."

You shook your head but still dealt the cards. 

Because at this point, why not?

So, you just go with this flow, yeah.

The feared, notorious Ryomen Sukuna was a force to be reckoned with. But somehow, between all the rooftop naps, strawberry milk cartons, late afternoon bandages, and card games, you had carved out a space in his life. And whether he admitted it or not, he didn’t really mind.

And it’s even more weirdly freaky that you and Sukuna ended up sharing a habit of listening to music whenever you had free time. You had your own preferences, of course, but one day, when you passed him one of your earbuds, you were shocked to realize that he actually liked classical music.

"I figured you’d be into something more... aggressive music." you admitted, watching as he leaned back, arms crossed, listening intently.

He scoffed. "What, you think I only listen to music that makes me wanna fight people?"

"...Yes?"

"Tch. Idiot." He turned his attention back to the music, tapping his fingers idly against his knee. "This one’s alright. But Tchaikovsky’s better."

Your jaw dropped. "Wait, you like Tchaikovsky?"

"Yeah? And what?"

You shook your head in disbelief. "I just... I wouldn’t have guessed."

"What, you think I don't have taste?"

"I know you don’t have taste."

He flicked your forehead. That was the day you realized Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t just a brutish boy. If anything, he actually had opinions on things outside of fighting and being a bad boy. And, as it turned out, music wasn’t the only thing.

One afternoon, while you were sitting on the rooftop as usual, Ryomen Sukuna casually pulled out a book and flipped it open, acting like this was completely normal. Your whole mouth was agape to the floor, you were sure of that.  

You blinked. "You read?"

He shot you a deadpan look. "No, I just stare at pages for fun."

You rolled your eyes, watching as he turned the page with the ease of someone who had definitely done this more than once. "...What’re you reading?"

"Something you wouldn’t get."

You raised an eyebrow. "Try me."

Instead of answering, he tossed the book at you. 

You barely caught it before flipping to the cover.

"...I’ve never heard of this one."

"Figures." he smirked, leaning back against the railing. "You read the boring stuff."

You scoffed. "Excuse me, but I read classics."

"Exactly. Boring."

You gasped, clutching your chest in mock offense. "Oh how dare you?"

He snickers. “I’ll lend you my books, don’t worry. Now sit down and break my ear from your screaming.”

“Oh shut up!”

From then on, lending each other books became a thing. Sometimes, it was casual. Other times, it turned into heated debates over themes, characters, and why the hell Ryomen Sukuna thought the antagonist was right.

But the best part?

Every time he lent you a book, you always found little notes scribbled in the margins—much or less half of them insightful, half of them just him being an ass.

("This guy’s an idiot. Don’t be like him.")

("Bet you didn’t see that twist coming, nerd.")

("I already know you’re gonna argue with me about this part, so don’t even start.")

And you did argue.

But somehow, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

What started as a random book exchange had slowly become something bigger. It wasn’t just about lending each other books or debating over plot twists anymore. It was the way you’d catch Ryomen Sukuna leaning back in his chair, flipping through a book you’d recommended, his brow furrowed in thought.

Or the way he’d glance at you while you read one of his books, waiting for your reaction whenever you hit a major plot point. It was subtle, but it was there. And the teasing, of course, never stopped. You caught him very obviously staring at you while you were finishing one of his books.

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Something on my face?”

He smirked. “Nah, just wondering if you finally get why I was right.”

You huffed, snapping the book shut. “You’re not right.”

“I am.”

“You aren’t!”

“Okay, okay.” he drawled, stretching his arms over his head. “Let’s hear it then, Professor. Enlighten me.”

You scooted closer, pointing aggressively at a passage in the book. “Alright, listen, in this part—”

And that was how you both spent an entire afternoon, passionately arguing over fictional characters like it was a life-or-death situation.

Then came the day you discovered something else. Something about yourself.

And all it took was another day, another afternoon spent on the rooftop.

The sun was warm but not unbearable, the breeze just strong enough to rustle your hair as you leaned against the railing. Beside you, Sukuna sat cross-legged, nursing his beloved cold and fresh strawberry milk carton like it was some kind of divine nectar.

He tilted his head back, taking a long sip before letting out a very satisfied sigh. “Damn, this never gets old.”

You side-eyed him. “You sound like an old man reminiscing about his youth.”

“Tch.” He shot you a lazy smirk. “Better an old man than a nerd who stays up all night studying.”

You gasped, dramatically clutching your chest. “How dare you insult my commitment to academia?”

Sukuna chuckled, reaching into his pocket before casually pulling out a deck of cards. “Alright, nerd. Put your commitment to good use and try to beat me today.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why do I get the feeling you cheat at this?”

He raised a brow, feigning innocence. “Would I ever?”

“Yes.”

Before he could retort, the rooftop door slammed open, and a very familiar, very exasperated voice rang out. “There you are!”

Both of you turned to see one of your classmates panting at the doorway, hands on their knees.

They pointed an accusatory finger at you. “You skipped the study group!”

Sukuna turned to you, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Oh? Nerd’s skipping study group? Scandalous.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “It’s one session.”

“You never skip.” Your classmate shot a pointed glance at Sukuna, then back at you, suspicion creeping into their features. “Wait. Are you guys dating?”

You froze. “H–huh? What the—”

Ryomen Sukuna—because he was Ryomen Sukuna—immediately grinned like the menace he was.

“Damn, caught in the act, babe.” he drawled, draping an arm over your shoulder. “Guess the secret’s out.”

You smacked his arm away, face heating up. “Oh my god, shut up!”

Your classmate screeched. “You didn’t deny it—”

“BECAUSE HE’S AN IDIOT!” you practically shouted, shoving Sukuna off as he cackled at your suffering.

“Uh-huh.” they said, clearly not convinced. “I’m telling everyone—”

Sukuna smirked. “Go ahead. Maybe then everyone will finally stop flirting with her and I won’t have to glare at every idiot who tries.”

Your classmate’s jaw dropped. “Oh we’re at that level now, huh?”

You, on the other hand, were about two seconds away from exploding. “SUKUNA—”

“Tch, what? I’m just saying what we both know.”

“WE BOTH KNOW NOTHING.”

But even as you yelled at him, he just leaned back, smug as ever, sipping the last of his strawberry milk like he hadn’t just casually dropped a bomb on you and everyone with his stupid conversations.

And somehow, despite the absolute chaos he always brought into your life, you wouldn’t have it any other way. You would choose to be by his side if you were given the choice. Both you knew it too.

══════════════════

HE NEVER REALLY THOUGHT IT WOULD GO THIS FAR. But he doesn’t think he can enjoy going to school without seeing you on the rooftop with him. This is what entices him to even want to go to school. Slowly but surely, Ryomen Sukuna began to enjoy himself in your presence like this. 

At first, it was subtle. So subtle that even he barely noticed it. The way his shoulders loosened when he was around you. The way his scowl softened when you teased him. The way he didn’t mind sharing his space, his food, his time with you.

Slowly but surely, he found himself eager for your attention more and more. It started with little things. Like how he’d glance at you first when he finally made a really good joke, just to see if you were laughing.

Or how, even in a crowded room, his eyes instinctively sought you out. How he’d nudge you with his knee when he was bored, just to get you to acknowledge him.

It was annoying. This thing he felt whenever you weren’t near. But you were the only true constant he had, you were the only one that he could find as permanence in the life lived with change. The only one who hadn’t turned away. The only one who didn’t look at him like he was some monster.

And one day, that thought made him stop in his tracks.

You weren’t looking at him badly at all.

You never had, even when you first met him.

Which made no damn sense.

One late afternoon, as you sat together on the rooftop, the sky a deep shade of blue hour in its peak indigo, Ryomen Sukuna found himself blurting out the question that had been gnawing at him for weeks.

“…Why do you stay by my side?”

You looked up from your book, blinking at him. “Huh?”

“I don’t get it.” He leaned back, arms crossed, frowning. “Why the hell do you hang around me? Everyone else either avoids me or wants something from me. But you just—”

"What?" You asked him.

He scowled, struggling to find the right words. “You just stay.”

You tilted your head, smiling slightly. “Because you’re interesting.”

He stared at you like you had grown a second head. “That’s your reason?”

“Yup.”

Sukuna scoffed. “You saw me beat a guy half to death on the first day.”

You laughed, shrugging. “But didn’t you do that because he was looking under a girl’s skirt?”

He paused at your words.

Suddenly, it was just a click.

Something in his chest clicked in place.

He hadn’t even thought about it back then. It wasn’t like he had done it to be some noble hero, he just didn’t like creeps. It was as simple as that. But the fact that you saw it that way? That you had been watching him just as closely as he had been watching you?

It made his ears burn hot red.

“Tch.” He looked away, clicking his tongue. “Still dumb of you to stick around for that.”

You grinned, nudging his arm. “Nah. I think I made a pretty good choice. I mean there were other things that came with that.”

And damn it, he hated how much he liked hearing that.

From that moment on, something shifted between you and Sukuna. Well, at least for him. He wouldn’t say it out loud—not yet, at least—but he had stopped questioning why you stayed. Maybe it was because you weren’t afraid of him. 

Maybe it was because you always had a way of looking at him that made him feel like he wasn’t just some guy people feared. Maybe it was because, for the first time in his life, he didn’t feel like he had to prove himself to someone. You were just there.

And somehow, that was enough for him.

But of course, he wasn’t about to get all sappy about it.

He doesn’t dare be that loud about it.

“Alright, genius.” He leaned back, arms crossed, watching you scribble some scientific formula on your massive notepad. “If I’m so interesting, what’s the most interesting thing about me?”

You didn’t even hesitate. “You pretend to be meaner than you are.”

Sukuna scoffed. “Tch. Pretend?”

“Mhm.” You smirked. “You act like you don’t care, but you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“You literally gave that stray cat your milk carton last week, Sukuna.”

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re still on about that?”

“Because it was cute, wasn’t it?” you teased, grinning. “You wanted to take it home with you and nurse it back to health!”

“I will throw you off this rooftop.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Try me.”

And maybe it was the way you were always ready to challenge him, the way you never backed down. Maybe it was the way you could see through him like no one else ever had. Either way, Ryomen Sukuna was doomed.

He was already losing the battle.

Because as much as he’d never admit it, he liked that you stayed.

He liked that you were there with him.

It wasn’t often that Ryomen Sukuna hesitated, that in itself was a fact to everyone you dare ask. But in the moment after that as he watched you continue to scribble on your notepad, he found himself struggling even more. He couldn’t help it.

He wasn’t the type to second-guess himself, to stall, or to act shy about something he wanted. When he set his sights on something, he took it, it was as simple as that. But now, as he sat beside you as he watched you, hands shoved in his pockets, lips pressed together in an almost pout, he looked… hesitant. Which was weird.

You tilted your head. “What’s up with you, Sukuna? You were just fine earlier. I mean you were alright with the banter. Now you’re stunned to silence again.”

Sukuna clicked his tongue, eyes flickering away. “It’s nothing.”

“Liar.” You snickered, not looking up at him. “You don’t lose your words with it being nothing.”

His furrowed brows twitched, and you could see the gears turning in his head. He wanted to say something. You just had to be patient. “…I’m gonna try out for the volleyball team.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait, really?”

He gave a slow nod, avoiding your gaze. “Yeah. I just….thought I need a new leaf.”

“Well, that’s good on you, Sukuna! Less fights, more rights—but on court!”

“Hey, I’m left handed!”

You giggled. “Just kidding.”

And now that you really looked at him, you noticed the way his fingers fidgeted slightly at his sides, how his usual sharp expression was replaced by something almost… uncertain. You could see the red echo all over his face and neck and even his ears.

That was when it hit you.

He wanted to ask you to come.

He wanted you there.

You opened your mouth, but before he could get a single word out, you grinned and butted in. “I’ll be there.”

Sukuna blinked. “Huh?”

“You were gonna ask me to come, right?” You nudged him playfully. “So, yeah. I’ll be there. Front row seat.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, lips parting slightly like he was searching for some kind of response. Then, he scowled, clicking his tongue. “Annoying.”

You laughed. “You love it.”

“Debatable.” But despite his grumbling, you swore you saw the corners of his lips twitch into the smallest smile.

And just like that, Ryomen Sukuna, someone who never asked for anyone’s approval had finally found something he wanted even more than volleyball. He wanted you to see him win. He wanted to see you there when he got his uniform and his place on the team.

“You’re really cute right now, do you know that?”

“Huh? Who are you callin’ cute?”

“Sukuna, give me back my notepad, you tall jerk!”

“Reach for it, shorty!”

══════════════════

epilogue

It started as a normal post-practice dinner, like it always was. It was normal, meaning loud and chaotic thanks to Gojo and Geto and how they roped Yuuji into their antics. The seven of you were packed into your usual corner booth, plates stacked high, drinks half-empty, and conversation buzzing with easy banter.

Then Itadori Yuuji—bless his pure, curious heart—asked the question that sealed Sukuna’s fate. “So… how did you guys even meet?”

You paused, chopsticks mid-air. “Oh, uh…. What do you wanna know?”

The bright-eyed junior smiled at you. “As much as you wanna say, senpai!”

Captain Ryomen Sukuna, who had just taken a bite of pork cutlet, froze. He slowly chewed, scarlet eyes darting toward you like he was calculating whether he should trust you with the answer. Big mistake.

Gojo immediately leaned in. “Oh-ho-ho, now this I wanna hear.”

Geto grinned, leaning back at the white haired vice-captain. “Yeah, you guys never really told us the full story.”

Megumi groaned. “And you really don’t need to.”

Nanami merely sighed, but there was a tiny flicker of interest in his otherwise indifferent expression. You turned to your boyfriend, Ryomen Sukuna with the smuggest look ever. He turned to you, panicked and horrified.

You smirked. “Wanna tell them, my love?”

His eyes twitched. “I hate when you say it like that, so damn mischievous.”

Gojo gasped, delighted. “Wait. You call senpai babe, but she can’t call you babe? Oh my god. This is so good.”

Sukuna shot him a deadly glare. “Do you want me to stab you with my chopsticks? And again, we talked about this. I like being called my love by my girl or nothing.”

"Aw, I'm your girl?"

"I'm going to sleep on the couch later with your stuffed bunny."

"My love, that's just cruel!" You pouted.

His eyes falters as he lowers his head and blushes. "Goddamn it."

Megumi snickers, leaning back. "Are we just gonna skip over the captain liking bunny plushies?"

Sukuna looks up. "I'm going to throttle you."

Gojo shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone tried.”

Geto snorted, turning to you. “Anyway, go on and spill, senpai!”

You grinned at him, leaning into the table. “We met in middle school. Sukuna was a menace.”

Sukuna scoffed. “Was?”

“Fine, is.”

Megumi muttered, “Glad we’re acknowledging it, senpai.”

Ignoring them, you continued, “The first time I saw him, he was absolutely wrecking some guy in a fight.”

Yuuji choked on his drink. “HUH???”

Megumi sighed. “Of course senpai was a delinquent.”

“But, but—” You raised a finger. “The guy was really horrible. Sukuna saw that he was looking under another junior’s girl’s skirt and it was making the girl feel horrible, so he jumped in and he started a fight.”

Gojo cackled. “Oh my god, senpai! You saw him commit to beating a guy in a fight and thought, ‘wow, what a prince.’”

Sukuna groaned, dropping his forehead onto the table. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

You patted his back, grinning. “He didn’t get into fights without reason, don’t worry! Anyway, I stuck around. And before he knew it, he couldn’t get rid of me.”

Sukuna grumbled, “Yeah, you were annoying.”

“Were?”

He sighed, already regretting his entire existence. “Fine. Are.”

Yuuji grinned. “So basically… you made the first move?”

Sukuna sat up, looking deeply offended. “No.”

Nanami, who had been quietly sipping his tea, suddenly added, “You were the one who asked senpai to come to your volleyball tryouts.”

Sukuna turned to him, betrayed. “I thought you didn’t get involved in stupid conversations, Nanami.”

“I don’t.” Nanami set his cup down calmly. “But this is funny.”

Gojo howled. “Oh, this is fantastic. Loverboy Ryomem Sukuna actually invited senpai first! Was, he blushing, senpai?”

You grinned. “Hm, he was!”

Geto smirked. “You know what that means, right? That means you made the first move, cap!”

“I DID NOT.”

“You definitely did, captain.” Megumi muttered.

You grinned, resting your chin on your palm. “Face it, my love. Like it or not, you love me with everything you’ve got.”

Sukuna grumbled, looking away, ears red. “Tch. Tolerate is a better word.”

But the way he let you lean against him, the way his fingers brushed against yours under the table?

Yeah, you grinned.

You knew the truth.

And that’s why Sukuna was suffering.

Physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

All because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.

And he loved you for it, more than anything.

Gojo and Geto were thriving off his pain, Megumi looked like he wanted to die just by being associated with this conversation, and Nanami, the one person who usually had self-control, had actually joined in on roasting him.

Worst of all? You were sitting there, all smug and grinning, as if you weren’t the reason his dignity was being publicly executed.

"Okay, okay." Yuuji laughed, leaning forward eagerly. "So when did you two actually start dating? Who said I love you first?"

Sukuna groaned, rubbing his temples. "Why are we still talking about this?"

"Because it's hilarious, captain!" Gojo said, sipping his drink with a shit-eating grin.

"You guys are acting like this is some historical event!" Sukuna muttered.

"You being in a relationship is basically a historical event, you know that, right?" Megumi deadpanned.

Nanami somewhat agreed. “It’s hard to know how to keep you settled, captain.”

“That’s going to earn you both more burpees!”

You giggled, reaching over to flick Sukuna’s ear. “Come on, tell them how you said it first.”

Sukuna scowled at you. “I didn’t say it first.”

"You so did, huh?" Geto smirked, drumming his fingers on the table.

Sukuna shot him a murderous glare. "No, I didn't."

"You absolutely did." you chirped, grinning.

Gojo perked up like he lived for this drama. "Wait, wait, wait—so the captain said I love you first?! Oh, this is damn gold."

Nanami took a sip of his drink, looking mildly interested. "How did this happen?"

Sukuna crossed his arms, looking like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin. "It was not a confession. It was—"

"A moment of weakness?" Megumi guessed dryly.

"A lapse in judgment?" Geto suggested.

"A divine miracle?" Gojo threw in, wiggling his eyebrows.

Sukuna clicked his tongue, looking at you like you were his final lifeline. He then looked at the other boys. “Multiple running laps on Monday.”

You, of course, were having too much fun. "Oh, it was so cute."

Sukuna groaned. "I swear to god—"

"Okay, okay!" You laughed, waving your hand. "I'll tell the story."

Sukuna immediately collapsed onto the table in defeat. “Jesus Christ—”

"So, one night after one of his games, Sukuna was exhausted—”

"As one is after carrying an entire team, mind you." Sukuna muttered.

You ignored him. "And he was so tired, he wasn’t really thinking before he spoke."

Gojo gasped dramatically. "The captain? Not thinking before he speaks? Shocking!"

You continued, undeterred. "So we were just sitting there, and I handed him a drink, and he just sighs and goes, ‘Man, I love you.’"

An echo of sudden silence.

Then the entire table erupted into chaos.

"NO. WAY." Yuuji nearly choked on his drink.

"AND IT WAS CASUAL? JUST LIKE THAT?" Gojo cackled.

"Disgusting." Megumi muttered, sipping his drink like he wasn’t deeply entertained.

Geto wiped a fake tear from his eye. "Damn. Our boy is whipped."

Sukuna, face fully buried in his hands, groaned. "I was tired!"

Nanami, who was enjoying himself far too much, nodded. "Ah. So it was an accidental confession."

You giggled, patting Sukuna’s back. "And then when I stared at him, all shocked, he tried to walk it back and was like, ‘Wait, no, I didn’t mean—’"

Sukuna slammed his forehead on the table. "I HATE YOU."

"Love you too, my love." you cooed sweetly, kissing his cheek.

Gojo nearly fell out of his chair laughing. "OH MY GOD, CAPTAIN! YOU’RE A LOSER."

Yuuji wiped tears from his eyes. "Man, I love this."

Megumi sighed. "This has been the worst meal of my life."

"Best meal of my life." Geto grinned.

Nanami sighed. "This shit makes me want a girlfriend."

Sukuna looked up, glaring at everyone. "I regret ever meeting you all."

"You love us." Gojo said, waving him off.

"No. I love her. Even if she's a fucking menace." Sukuna jabbed a finger at you. "I tolerate the rest of you."

You beamed, leaning into his side. "See? That was an intentional confession."

Sukuna groaned as the table roared with laughter again. “Why are we going through life like this?”

You smiled at him, leaning in and kissing his cheek. "I love you!"

Okay, maybe tonight was worth it.

[urrmomzfavorite]

PAC: HOW POSSESSIVE/JEALOUS IS YOUR PERSON?

PILE ONE

This person is really sure of themselves, attractive, and knows how to contain themselves. But when it comes to you? Baby, this is another person. I'm hearing about a situation happening on your honeymoon? They do not play.I see them being really protective of you. They feel like you trust strangers too easily and offer a helping hand without thinking. This sense of community is honorable, but it tends to burn *you*, Pile One, and your person notices this. They want you to put a lot of your responsibilities on them—take the weight off your shoulders. (They have nice shoulders, btw.)

They have a good nose for smelling bullshit. This person could work in finance or have well-placed investments? Bro, I don’t know anything about this type of stuff. Guys, also, this is your FS. You could be different ethnicities, countries, cultures. You’ll spend your honeymoon in their country; they have a home there. They get mad when someone tries to sell you something overpriced 😂 They like to stand by your side. Not gonna lie, you’re arm candy—you have this glow that draws people in. They feel proud standing next to you. They *love* when people say you’re a beautiful couple. They’re tall; I’ve been getting huge vibes of a tall man obsessed with hiking in my readings lately. They love staying active—and hey, it never hurts to have good stamina 👀

They’re thirsty for you. This person wants to show you how strong they are. Some of you wonder about them lifting and pinning you against the wall. It’s more than possible 😏

So Pile One: They aren’t jealous or possessive, but you’re really important to them. They don’t want your kindness taken advantage of.

✨💖 Heyyy cuties! 💖✨ Don’t be shy, take a little peek at my other posts—you know you wanna!

PILE TWO

**YESSSS**. Just thinking about it makes them sick. This is the type of person who gets low-key mad when you talk about your kindergarten crush. They’re competitive—they need to be the *only* one in your eyes. And they’ll make sure they are, crushing the competition to pieces.

Pile Two, you’re a rare commodity, and they know it. This person is obsessed with you. I know you like it, but listen: You’ll get annoyed by this energy eventually. They’re controlling. Might tell you not to wear certain outfits. This person gets insecure…

The way they see it? They wouldn’t hesitate a second to steal you if you were someone else’s. That’s why they’re paranoid—they know for some people, “I have a bf/gf” means *nyet*. So they need to make sure you’re all theirs. They’d rather spend time alone with you just to guarantee your full attention. You make them feel so mellow.

Pile Two, I’m gonna be honest: Obsession can be flattering, but there’s a healthy limit. When insecurity infringes on your freedom, speak up. They can either step up and change their behavior, or someone else will happily do it.

If this gets too much, talk to them. They love you enough to work on this—it’s a win-win. A relationship needs both people to feel secure. But yes, they’re obsessive, jealous, and controlling. Still, they don’t have ill intentions. The only alarming thing is how far they’ll go to keep your heart theirs.

✨💖 Heyyy cuties! 💖✨ Don’t be shy, take a little peek at my other posts—you know you wanna!

PILE THREE

This person wants me to preface by saying they’re logical and understand the stakes… *but* (there’s always a *but*):

IT’S FUCKING DISRESPECTFUL WHEN THEY’RE RIGHT THERE!

They’ll mean-mug, tell them to fuck off, scare off, or fight anyone disrespecting you, them, or your relationship. They’ll start *all* the wars for you, Pile Three. They aren’t scared of a challenge.

If they can handle you, they can handle anything 😅

This person does boxing or martial arts—they can actually fight. They’ve got Aries energy; they’ll keep you up all night.

OMG, after losing their shit at whoever talked to you that day, it’s *your* turn, Pile Three. Your turn to be reminded who you belong to (and where—which is on their… *yup!*). They can’t wait for an intimate moment to hear you moan their name, tell them you���re theirs, and get wet/hard under their touch. Then, and only then, the rage they couldn’t release by punching the latest guy fades. When they’re on top of you, and you’re begging to feel them inside, there’s one thing they need first: **hearing that you’re theirs**.

✨💖 Heyyy cuties! 💖✨ Don’t be shy, take a little peek at my other posts—you know you wanna!

[kbsd]

the legend of ron speirs

roland aimed his thompson gun he didn't say a word...

[anghimalaaynasapuso]

Your work is amazing, I love the way you interpret Simon’s personality and speech patterns in the prosthetic arm Simon fic.❤️

hello, anon! thank you so much for the kind words. i just wanted to take this opportunity to post this deleted part of prosthetic arm simon.

sfw. angst (?). highschool dropout simon. shame.

the prosthetic is finished.

it fits like a second skin. moves smooth, seamless, with no lag between thought and motion. it’s perfect. better than anything he could’ve gotten himself. better than the overpriced models he looked at years ago, wondering if he could stomach the debt just to feel normal again.

and for a moment, as he flexes his fingers, as he watches the metal articulate like flesh, he feels… proud. proud of you, of your work, of the precision in every detail. he turns his hand over, watching the way the joints move, the faint hum of technology so advanced he still doesn’t fully understand it.

but then— the thought creeps in, unbidden, unwelcome.

his throat tightens.

does this mean he doesn’t have an excuse to see you anymore?

his fingers still, mid-motion.

the past few months have been good. better than he expected. seeing you, talking to you, getting to know you beyond the surface-level interactions he usually keeps with people.

but now?

now there’s no more check-ups. no more adjustments. no more need for him to stop by so you can make small tweaks, run diagnostics, ensure everything’s running smoothly.

simon swallows, something cold curling in his chest. he tells himself he’s being ridiculous. that if he really wanted to see you, he could just— just call, just text, just ask.

but that’s not how he works.

he’s spent so long just coasting with people. staying at arm’s length, keeping interactions simple, necessary, easy to walk away from.

but you? you’re not easy to walk away from.

“you did good,” he says, and he means it. he just hopes you can’t hear everything else under it.

you don’t seem to notice his unease, too excited as you bounce on your heels, practically beaming.

“oh- i have news!”

he blinks. tries to steady himself. “yeah?"

“my thesis got picked to be presented at congress!”

it takes him a second. longer than it should. he hears the words, knows what they mean, but they feel far away, like his mind is still caught in the spiral from before.

but then he sees the way you’re looking at him, the pure joy on your face, and something inside him lurches

“shit,” he breathes. “that’s- that’s incredible.”

and it is. you deserve this. you deserve more than this.

he shows up to the congress.

he doesn’t tell you he’s coming. he doesn’t even decide until the last minute, standing in front of his closet, staring at the one half-decent button-up he owns.

but then he’s there, standing outside the venue, and he brings flowers.

he’s never done that before. never even bought flowers before, really. but he stands outside the venue, fingers tight around the cheap bouquet, feeling ridiculous and out of place.

he feels out of place.

too big, too rough, too obviously not part of the sleek, academic crowd milling around in suits and dresses. he tugs at his sleeves, shifting his weight, half-ready to just leave the flowers somewhere and go before—

then he sees you. scanning the crowd, eyes searching.

and when you spot him— you light up.

like he’s supposed to be here. like he’s not just some guy who stumbled in, unsure if he even belongs in moments like these.

you rush over, practically colliding into him, and he barely has time to react before you’re grabbing the flowers, pressing your face into them, laughing breathlessly.

“you came.”

his throat works. he clears it, rubbing the back of his neck.

“’course i did,” he mutters.

you smile.

…

he knew this was a bad idea.

he knew from the moment he walked into the restaurant, stiff in his chair, palm sweating against the napkin in his lap.

knew when you slid into the seat across from him, looking bright and effortless and so at ease, still glowing from your big presentation, still beaming about the congress.

knew when he looked down at the menu and realized he didn’t recognize half the words on it.

simon’s spent years in places like this— quiet, dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of good food and low conversation. but he’s always been alone. always sat in a corner with his back to the wall, a meal in front of him and no one expecting him to talk.

but now— now there’s you.

and you’re talking, telling him about the congress, about the people you met, the questions they asked. you sound so fucking excited, like the whole world is opening up in front of you, and simon—

simon just nods.

he doesn’t know what to say. doesn’t know how to keep up.

he’s never been smart like you. never been the type to sit in lecture halls, to write papers, to stand in front of a room full of academics and present something that matters.

he barely finished school. left home at sixteen, signed his life away at eighteen, spent more years holding a gun than a pen.

simon’s just good at breaking it.

he doesn’t belong in places like this. doesn’t belong next to you. you who's all bright ideas and ambition, the kind of person who builds things, who makes the world better.

he shifts in his seat, hyper-aware of how he looks— broad shoulders hunched awkwardly, big hands clumsy against the silverware, a goddamn mutt at a dinner table.

he wonders if you notice. if you see it. if you realize you could do better.

your food arrives. you thank the waiter, pick up your fork—

and before you can even take a bite, it slips out.

“i-”

you pause, fork halfway to your mouth.

simon grips his napkin under the table, flexes his fingers, heart thudding heavy in his ribs.

he shouldn’t ask. should just let this be a nice dinner, let you go home, let you move on.

but—

“would you…” he swallows, throat dry, stomach tight.

he shouldn’t ask.

“would you want to go on a date with me?”

the words hit the table like lead.

silence.

he doesn’t breathe. doesn’t move. because fuck, he actually said it.

and now there’s nothing but the space between you, the quiet hum of conversation, the faint clink of cutlery against plates—

and you. staring at him.

he braces for rejection. tells himself it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s—

“yeah,” you say, voice light with something he can’t name. “i would.”

his stomach drops.

relief. disbelief. something dangerously close to hope.

he exhales, tension bleeding from his shoulders. nods, just once, like he’s acknowledging an order. like his hands aren’t trembling under the table.

“okay,” he mutters.

then, quieter—

“good.”

[alarajrogers]

I hate "tomatoes aren't vegetables, they are fruits" because it's mixing two definitions of fruit without any acknowledgement. It's like a wordplay joke, but people mean it seriously, which prevents it from being funny. It's the equivalent of "How do you stop fish from smelling?" "Cut off their noses", except we all recognize that that one is a joke.

The axis "fruit, seed, leaf, root, stem" refers to the parts of a plant. The tomato we eat is the fruit of the tomato plant. The carrot we eat is the root of the carrot plant. The arugula we eat is the leaf of the arugula plant.

The axis "vegetable, fruit" measures the savory vs sweet nature of the edible plant part we're referring to. A tomato is not sweet like a strawberry; it is closer to the savory side of the spectrum, though sweeter than most other savory plants we eat. So it is a vegetable. A pumpkin is often thought of as a fruit even though it is savory because in the US it is almost always eaten as part of a sweet baked good like pumpkin pie; we rarely eat straight-up pumpkin. A strawberry, biologically, isn't really a fruit unless a corporation is a person -- it's an agglomeration of many, many fruits. The sweet fleshy part is actually a biomass that holds the actual fruits -- which we consider "seeds", but they are in fact a protective mass around an actual seed, which is very tiny. But in terms of the vegetable, fruit axis, a strawberry is a fruit and a tomato is a vegetable.

There are also herbs and spices. And things like sugar cane, a sweet plant stem that is not at all like a fruit, but it's sweet, so it's not a vegetable either. Sugar cane probably comes closest to being a grain -- starchy plant matter we use to make baked goods with rather than eating it straight, although we do eat rice and barley straight and we consider them both grains so what the fuck. Herbs are plant leaves and stems we eat for flavor, not nutrition -- although you can make a mint salad, no one does -- and spices are usually bulbs, seeds and roots we eat for flavor rather than nutrition, though there are exceptions. Cinnamon is a bark. Celery is a stem that is commonly used for flavor, but it's considered a vegetable because it's big enough that you can eat it straight up. The line between "vegetable" and "herb" seems to be mostly about size -- is it big enough you could eat a bunch of them as a meal, or would you have to eat so many that's not feasible? -- as well as flavor, considering that parsley, an herb, has no flavor. Most spices are ground, whereas herbs mostly just need to be chopped and dried, but you can grind an herb if you want.

The point is. A tomato is a fruit if we're talking about the parts of a plant. If we're talking about its role when we eat it, it's a vegetable.

And mushrooms count as vegetables despite not even being plants because they were grandfathered in from the days before we knew fungi weren't plants. If we found a sweet bulbous fungus we'd probably call it a fruit. Fungi aren't even plants but they get to be vegetables because they are sessile, they just sit there and grow, and we don't need to feed them. They are pulling nutrients out of their growth medium rather than making nutrients themselves out of sunlight and water and carbon dioxide, but to pre-scientific humans, they're getting all their nutrients as they sit there and grow so they're plants. Thus, culinarily they are vegetables even though biologically they're not even plants.

So "A tomato is not a vegetable, it's a fruit" is doing the same kind of thing as "Time flies like an arrow, fruit flies like a banana", but people actually mean it and take it seriously. It's not a joke. That drives me nuts.

Honestly bizarre that tomatoes get all the flack for “not being a vegetable” because they're technically a fruit when:

A) There are a ton of fruits that get categorised as vegetables. Like this also applies to pumpkins, squashes and cucumbers.

B) The fucking mushrooms are standing there at the back of the crowd in this witch trial, trying to look inconspicuous because they somehow got into the vegetable club with no fucking controversy despite the fact that they're not even plants.

[drdemonprince]

Imagine a world where we looked at having sex the same way we do going out dancing or grabbing dinner.

Some people really enjoy visiting dance clubs or restaurants, include their partners in these activities, and make them a cornerstone of their social calendar; other folks are quite indifferent, and can take or leave them. Some people might only like engaging in these activities when they are completely alone, and others among us have highly specific preferences for the ways we might participate in them, if at all.

We don’t tend to assume a person’s life is incomplete if they have never been to a rave, and if a new buddy recommends we take an invigorating walk instead of grabbing an order of tibs and injera, we probably don’t bat an eye. If a romantic partner doesn’t share our passion for darkwave it might cause us problems, but we could just as easily call up a buddy with a Boy Harsher shirt and still have a good time.

Most of us recognize there’s potential for trauma surrounding body movement and food, but we don’t consider a person fundamentally broken if their parents forced them to eat vegetables or take a ballet class. We’ll consider it wrong that their feelings weren’t respected, and understand if they never want to join us for Black Swan and cheese fondue.

We don’t clutch our pearls if a child finds out that people twerk or drink wine. Even when forms of these activities are firmly for adults-only, it’s evident to all of us that they can be openly discussed, that no one is harmed by acknowledging their existence. These parts of regular life are not seen as magical, or assumed to be always beneficial or always negative for a person. Sometimes you eat an incredible burger. Sometimes you trip over your feet and briefly look like an ass. Neither defines your life or brings you to ruin.

And in the bold, sex neutral world that I am proposing, we’d have much the same attitudes toward intimacy. If we could view sex neutrally, we wouldn’t necessarily consider it a deal-breaker if a romantic partner enjoyed floggings and we preferred Tantric massage. A person who eschewed all sex or only had sex alone would be a bit of a private type, not a fundamentally different or lacking type of being. If a person was forty-five years old when they made their sexual debut, we’d treat them like someone who found a new hobby later in life, not like they were carrying some major social defect.

When sex was used as a tool of abuse or exploitation, we’d focus a lot more on the facts of the mistreatment, rather than the lurid details of the sex. We wouldn’t treat sex as radioactive, imbuing all it ever touched with a kind of sinister energy. And because we wouldn’t have to push back against such a demonized view of sex, we wouldn’t have to claim that sex was some life-changing, sacred activity that possessed a special ability to cement marriages or alter bodies, either.

Sex would just be a blasé thing, like going to the grocery store, getting a foot massage, taking a shit, or rolling a joint: highly pleasurable to some, completely squicky and uncomfortable to others, varying in its importance over the course of our lifespan, and never fundamentally good nor evil, just a regular part of human life.

We could think dispassionately about sex if this were the case, not viewing gay men in puppy hoods as predators simply for existing in the open air, or penalizing librarians for giving kids resources about their own bodies. We could acknowledge, without flipping out, that fetuses masturbate in the womb, children sometimes tie their dolls up in proto-fetishistic ways, and teenagers have sex with one another.

We would not consider it pathological if a young person had no interest in any of this, or if any person enjoyed sex in ‘unusual’ ways — they’d be no more strange to us than a lover of peanut butter and pickle sandwiches.

And if a child were sexually exploited, or an adult person coerced into sexual activity, sex neutrality would allow us to look to the power and access that made such an awful violation possible. We’d see the problem was that a child had no one but their parent to rely upon, and nowhere else to go when that parent blocked them from seeing friends, restricted their access to food, or used them for personal gratification. Rather than being blinded by our aversion to sex, we’d be able to name all three controlling behaviors as equally wrong, all potentially fraught and traumatic.

I wrote all about sex neutrality and how it helps us to better understand issues of consent, abuse, and desire. You can read it for free (or have it narrated to you by the Substack app) at drdevonprice.substack.com

[daddydixonscrossbow]

You step towards Daryl, “Daryl.”

He gives you a funny look, like why are you my space, kinda look. You ignore it, “I don’t think we should be here.” He looks at you more, “What do y’mean?”

You shrug, “I don’t- this place doesn’t feel safe. There’s something off about that Dr. Jenner dude.”

“Wait n’see what Rick says.” He mumbles, looking back towards Rick, “M’sure he’ll be a’right.” You shake your head, wrapping your arms around yourself, the eerie feeling growing harder to get rid of.

Your eyes focus on the screen, watching the lights flicker within the brain of the scan. You feel like you could puke. After a little bit, a loud alarm starts buzzing.

Everyone starts questioning what it is.

You look at Daryl and he tilts his head, “Maybe y’were right.” He reaches out, pulling you to him. The screen lights up with a red box and numbers, a voice counting down booms through the room, “thirty minutes ‘til decontamination.”

Everyone starts panicking. You hold onto Daryl’s arm and he looks at the doctor.

“What’s going on here doc?”

“Yall heard Rick, get yer’stuff and let’s go. Go now!” Shane yells. Daryl pulls you with him towards the exit, his hand tightening on yours. The door closes and you stop, spinning around to look for another way out.

“Did you just lock us in?” Glenn asks scared.

You start to breathe faster, but Daryl shakes his head, “Don’do that, calm down. We’ll get outta here, just- hold on.”

He gets more agitated, letting you go to go after the doctor, “You son of a bitch. You locked us in here!”

You and Shane go after Daryl, keeping him away from the doctor. You grab his arm, “No, no, no.” Shane pulls him back, and you step in front of him, “Stop, stop. That’s not gonna help.”

He looks down at you, huffing as he glances up at the doctor.

After a little bit of freaking out and the doctor losing his shit, Shane cocks a gun, aiming it at Jenner. You stand closer to Daryl and he wraps his arm around you.

Shane fires the gun repeatedly and you grip onto Daryl’s shirt, “Oh my god, I want out.”

He nods, “I know, we all do. Jus’relax, okay.”

Jenner moves to a key pad, and as soon as the door is open, Daryl pulls you to where the weapons are, and you book it with him.

He glances back every so often to make sure you’re still with him, “C’mon, girl. We gotta go.” You huff, following him ho the steps, “I’m goin’ as fast as I can, Daryl.”

You make your way to the doors, and nothing is working. He runs over, hacking at the windows with Rick. Nothing works until Carol pulls out a grenade.

Daryl grabs you, pulling you with him. He gets you down onto the floor, his arm around you as you use your hands to cover your ear, “Fuck, fuck.”

As it goes off, he holds you tighter, looking up as the glass shatters and he nudges you, “C’mon. C’mon.” You stand up, running out of the now broken window. Your heart was racing, you’ve never been this scared before. Even though Daryl wasn’t really a comfort kind of person, you somehow managed to feel safer with him by your side, at least.. a little bit.

You run out over the yard towards the vehicles. Shane, Rick, and, Daryl taking out walkers as you all hustle.

He reaches back for your hand, pulling you up to him, “c’mon.” He opens the truck door, pushing you in, “In, in, in.” You climb in, Daryl following you in and he lays his body on yours, “Stay down.”

You listen to the explosion of the building, closing your eyes as you try to control your breathing.

He sits up slowly, eyes on the building, “Y’okay?”

You nod, sitting up, “Mhm.” You mumble, “Thank you.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it.” He clears his throat, “Don’t expect it again.” You roll your eyes, “Asshole.” You look over at him and he gives you a slight smirk, shaking his head as he looks back at the burning building, “Fuck.”

You move away from him as he starts to drive, following the other vehicles. After a while, you come to a stop. Daryl ditches his truck and gets his bike from the back, “Get on and hang on.”

You swing your leg over the bike, adjusting your sitting position. You slide your arms around his torso and rest your chin on his shoulder, and that was a very scary, yet beautiful start to yours and Daryl’s relationship.

Here’s a kiss for likin’ and rebloggin’ 💋

[luvhcarly]

the council would like to request a part 2 to tell me how much u want it

PUT THAT SMART MOUTH OF YOURS IN A GOOD USE.

previous part

After you break up with your boyfriend because you found out he cheated on you again you find yourself infront of his apartment with tears streaming down your face, even though you told him that you should keep it professional…

PAIRINGS: dom!san x fem!reader

GENRE: smut, professor x student, college AU

TAGS: smut, p in v, cheating, cum swallowing, oral (m receiving), San is mean and toxic towards reader, age gap (San is in his 30s and reader is 22), angst, use of pet names (love, slut), swearing, kind of manipulation, San is obsessed with reader and can’t let her go, dirty talk, mention of divorce!, lmk if I missed anything!

WC: 7.3k

A/N: I wanted to thank you guys for the love on the previous part! I decided to give you part 2 of this so enjoy!

Reminder! English is not my first language if you find any mistake lmk!

© All rights reserved luvhcarly do not copy, repost, or translate.

You knew it would be a mistake to step into his office, but you couldn't ignore it. A few weeks have passed since what happened and clearly you couldn't stop think about it, but at the same time you felt guilty. You cheated on your boyfriend even though you basically just paid him back. Well, it wasn't you. You never did such impulsive things. You didn't tell anyone about what happened, despite the fact that your friend suspected you of something.

"Come in." You were snapped out of your thoughts by a man's voice that sent chills down your spine. You took a deep breath and stepped inside, immediately meeting his gaze, which you couldn't quite place. He was sitting on a chair and his hands were on the table, as if he was waiting for you to sit down. As soon as you looked around the room, you remembered everything that happened. The way he fucked you against the desk, the way he told you words that you would like to hear again.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" You put your thoughts behind your head and broke the silence that was between you two. He laughed at your 'sir' and shook his head. He pointed with his hand to the place in front of him for you to sit down and so you did. You sat down on a chair and put your hands on your thighs and cleared your throat nervously.

“Weeks ago you called me San, now you call me sir, again.” With a raised eyebrow he said as if he wanted to indicate something, but you didn't know exactly what. He sighed when you remained silent at his words and he leaned his body more against the seat, not taking his eyes off you. San scanned you, your hair was down and you were wearing a t-shirt that once again hugged your body too well. He cleared his throat when he realized that thoughts lead where they don't belong, but damn why did you have to look so fucking good. Your lips were slightly parted as if you were about to say something, your eyes looked at him with that look that drove him crazy.

"I think-" You took a deep breath and looked at him. "I think we should forget about what happened. It could affect my studies and-" if he was telling the truth, he really didn't expect this. He was expecting something like it shouldn’t happen again or that you should be careful about this? Did he feel… duped? Forget what happened? How the hell do you want him to forget?

“Yeah, It could affect my job so I agree.” But he did not argue and only nodded. He had nothing to say to you even if he wanted to scream at you, Kiss you and do it again and again without any consequences.

"That's all I wanted to talk about. You can go.” His words were sharp, toxic. Something inside you broke, your heart shattered as if you had been stabbed in the heart. Why did you want him to say something else? To say that he doesn't want to forget. That he wants it again and again.

"Okay." With those words, you stood up and turned around. Before you left, you gave him one last goodbye look and then left. You let him sit there, thinking about the fact that he should have stopped you and told you how he really feels. But he knew that he would hurt you and himself.

“Fuck-“ San mumbled under his breath and ran a hand through his hair, when you left. He didn't want to forget what happened, even if it was just an one time thing. He wanted to help you so that you wouldn't feel stupid that your boyfriend cheated on you, but rather he did it for himself because he couldn't stay away from you.

-

"Are you okay, babe?" Your boyfriend’s voice interrupted you when he noticed how you were playing with the food with your fork. Your expression was nervous, tired, something he hadn't seen in you that often.

"What?" You shifted your gaze from the food to him and swallowed loudly when he gave you a puzzled expression. "It's nothing just school stuff." You lied to him and gave him a smile, he nodded at your words and smiled back. Then there was a silence between you, which you didn't like that much, but you weren't in the mood to break it. Your thoughts were elsewhere. You were lost. You were lost in your own head.

“We should go on a dinner tomorrow, to take a break from the stress." He proposed to you with a nice smile and you took a sip from your drink, nodding at his suggestion and smiling at him. "Yeah, that would be great." You really weren't in the mood to go somewhere social, but you didn't refuse.

“Is something bothering you, y/n?” With that he suddenly asked and the fork fell from your hand to the floor. "I-..." you opened your mouth and were about to tell him everything that happened, but then you closed your mouth. “No. I am just tired as I said." That's the only thing you told him and he didn't discuss it further, even if he didn't believe you. Well, he wasn't planning on arguing with you or anything like that so he just nodded his head and continued to eat his food.

After dinner you lay down in bed and took your phone in your hand, your boyfriend was lying next to you and he was also on his phone. You decided to check whether the results of the tests you wrote last week had not arrived yet. Your eyes widened when you saw that you didn't pass his class.

Didn't pass.

How? He tutored you, you wrote everything correctly there. You furrowed your brows at that and your anger rose. What's his problem? You didn't understand it. And that’s why you stayed after his class the next day.

“Professor, wait!” You shouted as he left the classroom and you caught up with him with quick steps.

"I have another class, Ms. Y/n.” His words were again sharp without interest, as if he was telling to leave him alone that he was not interested in talking.

"It won't be long, I just-"

"We will discuss it tomorrow during class, if you have some problem." He stopped and turned to you. His brows were furrowed and he wore glasses. You swallowed loudly at his words and sighed.

"I-..." You opened your mouth and were about to say something, but then you nodded. Despite the fact that you were angry that you didn't pass his class, you suppressed your anger again. His expression made you feel the respect you had for him. "Okay." You said and he left without another word. When he was out of your sight enough, he let out a sigh that he didn't even know he was holding back. He knew that you probably wanted to talk about why you didn't pass. But his reason was simple. He thinks you have more in you than what you wrote in the test. That’s why he didn’t let you pass, or maybe there was another problem?

“Asshole.” You muttered to yourself as you slammed the locker shut and an annoyed sigh escaped your lips. He was acting strange.

"Who is an asshole?" Your friend's voice rang out and you jumped a little. You did not expect that she would be here and that she would hear you.

"You scared me!" You punched her on the shoulder and she laughed at your words, but then immediately gave you a serious expression.

"Who were you cursing at?" She asked again, her curiosity growing. You raised your eyebrows at her question and pretended that you didn’t say anything before

"What? No one." You gave her a smile, but she still didn't believe you, she already knew you very well. "Your boyfriend again?" She leaned against the locker and crossed her arms over her chest, patiently waiting for your answer.

"No, of course not." You blurted out quickly and she just sighed and bit her lower lip as if she wanted to tell you something.

“You are acting weird lately. Is everything okay?” She finally asked and you ran a hand through your hair and furrowed your brows.

"I'm fine! Why is everyone asking me that”You said with a raised voice and your friend sighed and shook her head. She didn't understand why you were suddenly so angry and nervous. You were never like that, you always walked around smiling, but now you looked like you were going through something. When you realized that you had raised your voice at her and that you are taking out your anger on her for no reason, you swallowed loudly and squeezed your eyes.

"I'm sorry... I'm just tired." You rubbed your forehead and looked at her. She had a disappointed expression on her face, as if she understood you. "Yeah, I get it. Get some rest, y/n.” With her hand she stroked your shoulder. "And stop stressing about school." She added and gave you a sweet, friendly smile, which you returned in return.

You were nervous all day, probably because of school. Despite the fact that you were not in the mood to go to that dinner with your boyfriend, you went. You went to a romantic restaurant together and sat down, talked and joked. You felt that it was the same again as before and your stress subsided. "I will be right back, babe." He stood up and you smiled at him from behind the glass and he directed his steps to the bathroom. At that moment, his phone, which had its screen facing downwards, started ringing. Somehow you didn't pay attention to it, but when the phone rang several times, you gave up. You looked around the restaurant to see if he was coming back, but when you saw that he was nowhere to be found, you picked up his phone.

"When are you going to break up with y/n?"

"Babe, I want you. Please?”

"Can you come over tonight, we could have some fun?" ;).”

You swallowed at the texts and a tear started to run down your cheek.

“I’m back-“ A voice came from behind you and you gripped the phone tighter in your hand and gave him a hateful look.

"Babe, It's not what-"

"Save it. I don’t want to hear it. You didn’t change.” Your voice was hateful and your words were sharp, he leaned closer to you and wanted to stroke your shoulder, but you pulled away.

"Can we talk about it? Everybody is watching us, y/n. Calm down." He looked around nervously when he noticed people's curious looks. You wiped your tears and picked up your jacket.

“No.” You muttered. "We are done." You said and he shook his head at your decision. With those words you left and left him there alone. As soon as you left the restaurant, you put on your jacket and hugged your body. Raindrops began to fall on your skin, which you let out a sigh. You didn't know where to go. Only one place came to your mind. His apartment.

Flashback.

“She signed the papers.” He informed you and looked up from the phone to you and measured you. You already had your skirt on and put your t-shirt back on. "That's great!" You gave him a sweet smile and he sighed but then smiled. He leaned his body against his desk and ran a hand through his hair before resting his hands over his chest.

"Yeah, it is, but I will have to move out."

"Move out? Where?” You blinked fastly at him being confused. He could hear in your voice that you were a little afraid that he would leave, but you didn't try to show it in any way.

"You know the new apartments just two blocks away from school?” For a small moment, you thought about his words, but when you remembered the new apartments nearby, you nodded.

"Well, I already have papers set for this but I waited if she would sign the papers and she did so." He usually didn't talk that much, but now he wanted to. He wanted to tell you everything that was on his mind, and it didn't bother you at all. You liked to listen to him and you were glad that he was saying something that was bothering him. San looked at you nervously, as if he realized that he might be talking too much, but your words calmed him down.

"The apartments are beautiful and I think that it's a great opportunity to start a new life for you." Your words were soft and kind, it warmed his heart. Maybe it's an opportunity to start something new. Something that will fill him and make him feel good. He gave you a smile and his thoughts took him where they probably shouldn't have. Well, for a few seconds he imagined that he lives with you, but then he immediately put it behind him. It's impossible.

End of flashback

“Y/n?” The door in front of you opened and he appeared there. His hair was messy and his eyes were tired, he was wearing a black oversized T-shirt and gray sweatpants. It was strange because you didn't usually see this on him.

"I'm sorry to barge in here like this but-" You stopped talking for a moment and took a deep breath. "I didn't know where else to go." Your hair was wet and so were your clothes. He had a surprised expression on the shapes that you were standing here in front of him, your eyes completely red and your mascara smeared.

"Come in." The words he usually spoke gave a completely different meaning to you. He stepped back from the door and let you in, taking your jacket off your shoulders and hanging it on the hanger to dry. He then directed his steps into the kitchen and you followed him, looking around the apartment with your eyes. It was nice and new. Everything was in white and black colors, which you would expect from him.

Without another word, he took a sip of water and leaned against the kitchen counter while you kept looking around. He could see from your shape that something was wrong, otherwise you probably wouldn't be here. But he was surprised that you remembered his words from a few weeks ago. He didn’t ask you what happened, he just looked at you with his eyes and then put the glass down.

You watched with your eyes as he left suddenly and then came back with a dry T-shirt and sweatpants. "Go take a shower." He ordered and handed you dry clothes. You nodded at his words and he let out a sigh. As soon as he pointed in the direction where the bathroom was, you directed your steps there. When you stepped into the bathroom, you smelled his usual scent and you swallowed loudly at that. Then you took off your wet clothes and stepped into the shower. Immediately warm almost hot water touched your skin and you tried to wash away all the bad thoughts and the anger you still had inside. You were a fool to think it wouldn't happen again. You naively thought that everything would be the same as before.

A small sigh escaped your lips as the same scene replayed in your head as you slowly scrolled through the screen of his phone and read the texts. You still couldn't believe that it happened so suddenly. You spent quite a long time in the shower, and he thought that something had happened to you, but when he saw that you got out of the shower. Your hair washed and his clothes on you. The shirt he gave you was a little bigger, and the sweatpants too…

San cleared his throat and he pushed you a cup of tea infront of your face, which you graciously accepted and sat down on the couch next to him. You took a sip of the hot tea and looked ahead. There was an awkward silence between you, as if you were both thinking of what to say. Well, the only thing you could say was:

"Thank you." You muttered and looked down at the cup of tea you were clutching tightly in your hand. You had the feeling that if you clenched it even more, it would shatter into a million pieces. Like you an hour ago. "I broke up with him." You suddenly blurted out and he immediately turned his gaze to you. He raised his eyebrows slightly at your words as if he didn't expect it.

"Sorry to hear that." He actually lied, he was glad you were not together. That you did it. Did he feel happy? Relaxed? He didn't even know how he felt, but he only knew that deep down he was glad that it was so.

“He did it again.” You added and he furrowed his brows. He didn't like it, but even more he didn't like that you were here and that you were saying this to him.

"Why are you telling me this?" You shifted your gaze from the tea to him and gently parted your lips. You didn't know what to say to that. A tear ran down your cheek and you wiped it away with the tip of your fingers and swallowed loudly.

"I'm just confused." He laughed, he didn't even know why, but he found this situation funny. "Yesterday you told me that we should keep it professional and now you are here. Crying.” His words were sharp and unpleasant. You put the tea on the table in front of you and shook your head at his words that he was right. But why didn't you feel it that way?

"You are right. I-" as soon as you started to speak, he cut you off.

"Are you doing this on purpose or what?" His eyebrows were furrowed and he had a strange expression on his features that you had never seen on him.

“What? No! Of course not I just-“

“You giving me those eyes during class, showing up in my apartment.” He shook his head at you, he didn't care that the tears were running down your cheeks more and more. He wasn't really interested at this moment because he wanted to understand why you were doing all this. What is your deal? Distracting him?

“Tell me y/n. Why?” He raised his eyebrows and stared at you, patiently waiting for your answer. "Because I'm curious. You just show up here crying and telling me the same shit over again.” He let out a sigh and you just stroked your brows furrowed and lips parted, tears still running down your cheek. "Expecting what? That I will tell you It's alright and some other kind of shit?" He chuckled at his words and ran a hand through his hair, leaning further into the couch. His eyes were fixed in front of him, but you were watching him. You watched his every move and listened carefully to his sharp words that came from the depths of his heart.

"that I will hug you and whisper lovely words to your ear?" He added and then got back into the previous position to see your face. He could see on your face that you were taken aback by his words and that you didn't know what to say. “Well, I am not that kind of guy, if you thought that I would do that.” You took a deep breath when he finally finished and wiped your tears again and stood up from the couch.

"It was a mistake coming here." You muttered and when you were about to leave, his words stopped you.

"Yeah walk away. That's what you are best at." He had his elbows on his knees and watched carefully as you turned sharply at his words, tears were no longer running down your cheeks, but he could see from your features that you were angry. Angry because of what he said.

“Says you. You walked away from your wife and almost cried at my fucking shoulder after you fucked me.” Your words were full of anger, you were like a ticking bomb. He got up from the couch at your words and stepped closer to you. His jaw clenched and his Adam apple bopping every time he swallowed.

"I fucked you because I saw that you were desperate, remember?" He said and you shook your head at his words, you knew he was right but still you didn't let it go.

"I let you because you were so desperate to fuck someone who actually gives a fuck about you." You spilled those words into his face and at that moment he grabbed your wrist and pulled you closer, his hot breath touching your face.

"I can choose who I want to fuck, love. You would be surprised how many students came to my office and flirted with me. But I only fucked you, isn't that funny?" His words were ridiculous, he directly mocked you. He moved closer to your ear and his words sent a chill down your spine. "Should I remind you the words you said to me?" Your breath hitched and he saw it. He saw how you suddenly became nervous and also how a chill passed through your body, his words full of mockery and teasing. He knew very well the effect he had on you and he intended to use it very well.

"That I fucked you better than your boyfriend. Pfuu… y/n.” He pulled away from you to get a good look at you. "Tough words, right?" You swallowed at his words because he was right, but you still had no plans to stop throwing arguments at him.

"I only said that to make you satisfied and to boost your ego." Your words were funny to him so he just laughed at you and your stupidity.

"Your body said something else that time." San enjoyed how your body trembled gently and how his words always sent chills down your spine every time. But he thought it was very funny how you pretended that it had no effect on you and that you looked confident. “And now your body is saying something else too.” He shifted his eyes to your parted lips and how you immediately closed them and swallowed. You hated it as he had readen you from head to toe. How did he know what reacts to you and what doesn't.

“You asked why.” Out of the blue you changed the subject and his grip loosened on your wrist and he raised his eyebrows. He didn't understand where you were going with those words.

"What?" He asked you incomprehensibly and a small sigh escaped your lips, wondering if you really should say that. "I came because of you." You looked into his eyes and searched for something in them, maybe a hint of what he was thinking. That he feels what you feel.

"I came because I can't stop thinking about you. Fuck, you- you are driving me crazy.” Your words caught him by surprise and he immediately let go of your wrist and bit the inner corner of his mouth. “And fuck, yeah I expected you to hold me and tell me that it will be okay. I admit, okay? I even admit that I always walk away from the problems instead of solving them. And I’m sorry about what I said about your ex-wife. Fuck, I even admit that you fucked-“

“Just, shut up.” He interrupted you and immediately took your cheeks in his hands, using them to bring you closer to him and kiss you. Despite the fact that his words before were sharp and unpleasant, you let him kiss you. You wanted it. His touch on your cheeks was soft and warm and the kiss was soft and gentle. “You talk too much.” He said between kisses and his hands slipped to your waist, pulling you closer. The kiss became more dominant and passionate, he ran his tongue over your lips and you opened your mouth and gave him the freedom to push his tongue into your mouth. His tongue exploring your mouth with a hunger that belied his earlier resistance and you sighed as his hands slid to your ass and squeezed it.

He lifted your body by your ass and you immediately wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. Without breaking the passionate kiss, he carried you to his bedroom and slammed the door behind him, leaning you against it. He let your body slowly slide off him and put one hand on your waist and the other on your cheek and caressed it gently. You slid your hand under his shirt and ran your fingers over his stomach, as he let out a shaky breath as your fingers traced his abs, his head falling back briefly. "Fuck, you're going to be the death of me," he muttered, quickly pulling his shirt off and tossing it aside.

“Yeah?” You asked him with a teasing voice still tracing your fingers slowly along his abs. "Yes, really," San growled at that, catching your wrists and pinning them above your head against the door, having enough of your teasing. He leaned in close, his lips barely brushing your ear. "One minute I'm pissed as hell at you, and the next..." He trailed off, pressing gentle kisses along your neck. “Then next I want to fuck you until the only word you remember is my name.” A slight moan escaped from your lips as he started to leave wet kisses along your neck.

His mouth curved into a satisfied smirk as he felt your body tremble against his. "Like that, do you?" he whispered, purposely leaving another wet mark just below your ear. His hands released your wrists, one sliding down to grip your waist while the other began pushing your shirt up, sending shivers down your spine. His cold hands touching your warm skin made you part your lips slightly and he noticed.

“So fucking sensitive," he murmured, his cold hand leaving goosebumps in its wake as he pushed your shirt higher. San broke the kisses on your neck just long enough to pull the shirt over your head and toss it aside, leaving you in just a lacy bra. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, half-naked and breathing heavily against the door. He leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a rough, passionate kiss as his hands reached behind you to unhook your bra.

“Mhm~” Being too desperate you moaned into the kiss as the bra hit the floor silently, freeing your breasts. He growled softly as your breasts pressed against his bare chest, one of his hands coming up to grope one possessively. Your moan echoed in his mouth, making him harder.

“Fuck- San, I need-“ he cut you off immediately.

“Shut up." San said against your lips before kissing you deeply again, swallowing any further words. His hand squeezed your breast roughly as his hips pressed against yours, letting you feel how hard he was already. Breaking the kiss, he nipped at your bottom lip. "Pants off. Now." You swallowed at his sharp words and you slowly pulled your sweatpants down, keeping an eye contact with him as he watched you carefully, enjoying how you obeyed him.

His gaze remained fiercely locked with yours as you peeled off your sweatpants, a wicked grin spreading across his face when you stood before him in nothing but in your panties. “Those off too. Come on.” Without breaking eye contact, he ordered watching how your body trembled every time. Slowly you pulled your panties down as he watched you with a smirk on his face. God he liked how you obeyed him every time.

“On your knees.” When those words left his mouth you swallowed. At first you remained in your place not being so sure but his voice was heard again. “Come on, love. Get on your knees for me.” His voice was low, demanding and you slowly slid to your knees, looking up at him. With a soft touch he cupped your cheek and grinned at the sight of you being in front of him on your knees.

His thumb gently stroked your cheek as he leaned down and whispered, "Isn’t if funny how minute ago you screamed at me that you let me fuck you just because I was desperate to fuck someone who gives a fuck." He kept eye contact while he slowly pulled his sweatpants down, a smirk playing on his lips as you watched him. “Now, look at you, y/n. You are here again. Obeying like a slut.” You swallowed hard at his words and your body trembled even more as you watched how he pulled his sweatpants and boxers down in one swift movement and your breath hitched as you saw him fully naked now. He was huge just like you remembered. Long and thick. He smirked watching your reaction. "Now, put that smart mouth of yours in a good use, will you?”

With a shy look on your face you brought your lips to his length and a shudder ran through him as your lips barely brushed against the tip. San groaned quietly, his fingers twitching against your cheek. "What did I say, love?" His voice was low, furious as he grabbed you by your hair roughly and he pressed himself against your lips, silently urging you to take him in.

As soon as you opened your mouth, he pushed himself in, filling your small mouth instantly. He groaned as he hit the back of your throat, pulling your hair harder to keep you in place. "Look at me." he growled, his hips bucking slightly to push himself deeper. With a small tears in your eyes you looked up at him through your eyelashes as he enjoyed the sight of you. He enjoyed how you fell apart on his cock.

San's eyes darkened with lust as he held your gaze, drinking in the sight of you trembling slightly, tears glistening at the corners of your eyes. He smirked, pleased by how perfectly you were submitting to him. "You look fucking gorgeous with your lips wrapped around my cock," His thick length pulsed in your mouth as he admired the view—your pretty lips stretched around him, taking him so deep. "Such a good girl," His grip tightened in your hair, holding you firmly in place as he slowly thrusted, savoring the slick heat of your mouth.

You moaned against his cock immediately sending shivers down his spine at that, then slowly you made your way with your hand to your wet core, the pleasure being too much but his words cut you off right away. "No...don't you fucking dare." He warned in that deep, authoritative tone you loved. With one quick motion, he grabbed your wrist, preventing your hand from reaching its destination. "Only my hands get to touch you there tonight, got it?" His hips thrust forward again, making you gag slightly. You let out a little cry at his warning words and San smirked as he watched you suppress your whimper, pleased by your obedience. Keeping a firm grip on your hair, he began to thrust more deliberately, each stroke pushing deeper into your throat. The wet sounds of your mouth working his cock filled the room, punctuated by his low groans of pleasure.

“So pretty.” He tilted his head back, savoring the sensation as he hit the back of your throat perfectly, but then he looked back down at you, seeing the slight flush on your cheeks and the tears streaming down your face. He was close, so very close to bursting apart in your mouth. "So good, just for me, yeah?”

You moaned again and he let out a shuddering groan as your moan vibrated around his sensitive cock, the sensation almost too intense. The sight of you squeezing your thighs together desperately, unable to touch yourself yet trembling with need, pushed him over the edge. "Fuck, I'm gonna-" He threw his head back and with one final thrust, he buried himself deep in your throat and came undone, his hot seed spilling into your mouth as he let out a low, guttural groan. His hips jerked erratically as he rode out his release, eyes locked onto yours, intense and unblinking. You watched, mesmerized, as he came undone completely, his body shaking with the force of his orgasm. "Swallow it, come on.” Without second thought you swallowed all his release, squeezing your eyes.

He let out another groan as he watched you swallow every drop like it was the best thing you've ever tasted. Your throat worked sexily as you swallowed, making his spent member twitch again. "Goddamn," He muttered softly, petting your hair gently now instead of gripping it harshly.

“Please.” A whispered please escaped from your mouth as you squeezed your thighs more. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of you squeezing your thighs, desperate and needy. He knew exactly what you were begging for, he leaned down, cupping your chin in his hand. "What do you want, love?" He asked in a smooth, knowing tone.

“I need you. Please.” A small chuckle escaped from his mouth at your desperate cry, his fingers trailing down your chin to your throat. "You need what?" He asked, his voice dropping lower, "You need my hands on your thighs? You need my face between your legs? You need my fingers inside you? My cock?" You let out a shaky breath at his words, swallowing loudly.

“Please, make me feel good, San.” He smirked mischievously at you, grabbing you by your wrist tightly and pulling you up from the ground. You were immediately met with his intense gaze and his hot breath on your lips. “Please-“ When you started to beg again he silenced you with a harsh, bruising kiss, his other hand reaching to your hip, guiding you slowly to the bed. He broke the kiss, panting, "You want to feel good?" Your knees immediately hitting the bed and he showed you down on the mattress, watching you swallow and your breath becoming more heavier which made his cock twitch.

With your elbows you supported your body as you leaned back more and you observed him as he stood there watching you for a moment, admiring how perfectly you surrendered your body to him. Your chest rising and falling with anticipation, lips parted slightly. "Spread your legs," he commanded, his voice hoarse with desire. When you hesitated for just a moment, he added firmly, "Now." Without another second you spread your legs for him and he positioned himself between your thighs, his hands firmly gripping your knees to keep them spread wide. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, seeing how wet you were, your pink folds glistening with need. He slowly ran his fingers along your slit, not penetrating but just teasing.

“Fuck-“ When you felt his finger ran along your slit you threw your head back and shut your eyes, begging with your little moans to be touched more.

“Eyes on me, love.” With a raised tone he grabbed you by your jaw and made you look straight into his eyes, his fingers splaying out to keep your knees spread wide. When he slowly pressed his tip against your wet pussy he watched your eyes roll back slightly but snapped them back to his with a sharp tug on your jaw. "You just won’t listen, will you?" he asked, his thumb rubbing your chin roughly. "You want to be fucked?” You were unable to concentrate when he pressed his tip on your wet pussy, teasing you. The only thing you managed to do was shake your head which wasn’t enough for him.

He saw the contradiction in your body language and smirked. "You don't want to be fucked?" he asked, pressing just the tip of his cock inside you, but not enough to satisfy your need. He was teasing you, loving the power he had over you.

“No! I want to be- I want to be fucked, please!” A dark laugh escaped his lips as he heard you beg for it. He leaned down, his breath hot on your ear. "That's what I thought," he whispered, driving his cock fully into you in one swift motion. You gasped, your back arching as he filled you completely, capturing your mouth into a deep kiss. Right away you moved your hands to his back and he groaned into the kiss, loving the way your nails dug into his back.

He started to move his hips, slowly at first, letting you feel every inch of him as he pulled out and thrust back in. He broke the kiss to nip at your neck, sucking and biting to mark you. Then he pulled away his dark eyes locked onto yours, demanding your attention and devotion. "Tell me who's fucking you this good." He lifted your chin with his hand as he continued to thrust into you deeply and slowly, his piercing hitting your g-spot with each thrust.

“Y-you.”

"What I didn’t quite hear you." He teased, his voice low and commanding as he continued his slow, deep thrusts, hitting your g-spot with each movement. His other hand reached up to wrap around your throat, squeezing gently as he looked into your eyes. "Say my name, love."

“San.” You moaned more louder and he smirked at that, enjoying how you are taking his cock so well. "Like that," He growled, thrusting harder. "You take my dick so well," He murmured, watching your body bounce slightly with each snap of his hips. "Spread your legs wider." He ordered softly, watching you eagerly obey.

"You know what I love?" You gasped as he thrusted deeper into you, gripping your hip more tight every time. He enjoyed the sight of you how you opened your mouth into a little ‘O’ when he thrusted more deeper, making you take his full length.

"Watching your pretty face while I destroy this tight pussy," He whispered darkly, increasing his pace. His hand around your throat tightened slightly, showing his possessiveness. His thumb traced your bottom lip as he continued pounding into you. "Christ you feel so good..." He leaned down to nip at your ear as he felt your nails dig deeper into his back as he hit that sweet spot inside you, making you cry out his name loudly. He smirked against your neck, loving the sound of your voice saying his name. His hips moved in a circular motion, hitting your g-spot from different angles as he spoke. “So glad you left- you left that boyfriend of yours.” The fact he was struggling with his words made you moan even more. “Now you are all mine. Right?” The grip on your throat tightening as he looked at you with a hungry gaze. “Say it that you are mine.”

“I’m yours.” As his dick was too much for you, you hid your face in the crotch of his neck, but he immediately pulled you back. "That's right, you're fucking mine," he growled possessively, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss, bitting your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, marking you. He continued to pound into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

“Y-yours.” Even though you were unable to breathe you repeated again but San hadn’t enough of it, yet.

"Again," His voice hoarse as he continued his brutal pace, his hands roaming your body possessively, squeezing your breast and spreading your thighs wider. "Say it like you mean it," He ordered, his eyes locked onto yours as he continued his punishing rhythm.

“I-…” You were moaning mess you couldn’t get a simple word out of you as he kept thrusting more rougher. He laughed at your state but still he said;

"Use that mouth yours like when you talk shit." He growled as his hips were snapping forward with each word. "Tell. Me. You're. Mine." He punctuated each word with a deep thrust, hitting your g-spot perfectly, his eyes burning with intensity as he watched you struggle to speak.

“I’m yours. Fuck-… only…” To catch a breath you paused for a second, “Only yours”

"Goddamn," Softly he muttered, slowing down his pace. He loved hearing those words from your mouth. Slightly, he pulled out then snapped his hips back in hard, making you cry out. He smirked wickedly. "You know what I wanna do?" Finally he moved your hand from your throat to your hip again and again he pulled out of you and then snapped his hips back in hard. With hunger in his eyes he watched you let out a little cry as he kept doing that for a while. But then he kept his pace slow and deep, dragging his piercing along your walls. "I wanna fill this pretty pussy up with my cum, mark you inside and out. Make sure everyone knows you're taken," He leaned down, biting your earlobe. "What do you say to that, love?" Your eyes widened at his words and a chill run down your spine.

“W-what?” Out of breath you asked him he chuckled darkly at your shocked expression, his slow thrusts maintaining their deep pressure. "You heard me," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "Want my cum inside you?" His hand slid down to rub your clit in tight circles, making your hips jerk involuntarily.

When his hand met your clit, teasing you, you let out a loud moan and shook your head in agreement watching him smirk at you mischievously loving the effect he had on you. At that he speeded up the pace again thrusting more deeper and rougher than before trying to chase your and his own high. His cock pounded into you with renewed vigor, his breath growing ragged and his eyes never leaving yours. "Fuck, you feel too good," he groaned, his fingers digging into your thighs as he spread them wider to accommodate his deep, brutal thrusts. "I’m gonna fill you up."

“Please.” With a loud moan you begged and you grabbed him by his cheeks, pulling him closer and kissing him roughly. He kissed you back fiercely, swallowing your desperate plea as he continued his relentless pace. His tongue invaded your mouth, claiming every inch as his cock claimed your pussy. "Fuck, you are so desperate for me." he teased breathlessly against your lips, giving a particularly hard thrust that made you see stars. He could feel that you were close when your walls started to clinching more on his dick.

"Are you gonna cum for me, love?" He whispered darkly, picking up the pace even more, his thrusts becoming almost violent, his pelvis grinding against your clit with every stroke. "Look at me when you come." He could feel his own release building, his muscles tensing. Moans echoed in the room as you sank your nails into his back once again as you came.

"Fuck, yes," he hissed at the sudden pain mixing with pleasure. His nails dug into your hips hard enough to leave marks as he surged forward, his entire body stiffening. He let out a guttural roar, his hot cum filling you up, overflowing and dripping down your legs. After that he didn’t pull out, he stayed inside you for a while pressing his forehead against yours, smiling softly at you. It was different than before. This didn’t feel like sex, like it did back then in his office. It felt more like love?…