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interlunium-opus · 3 months ago

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►DANCING WITH THE DEVIL #004: FINALE [Sunghoon.]

Parts ‣ #001 | ‣ #002 | ‣ #003 | ‣ #004: Prelude | ‣ #004: Finale

Abstract: Eight years have passed since you betrayed Park Sunghoon, leaving his fate shrouded in uncertainty. You thought you'd left that world behind, but the serial killings in the capital city —which bore a haunting resemblance to that in your past—pulled you right back into the shadows you once escaped. What began as a quest to prove your worth soon unraveled into something far more sinister: a labyrinthine network of power, deceit, and danger hidden beneath a veneer of opulence.Now, amidst the grandeur of a castle steeped in blood-soaked tradition, you find yourself, once again, entangled with Sunghoon—a ghost from your past whose motives remain as inscrutable as ever. The stakes are now higher, the games deadlier, and survival feels like chasing a mirage. As you navigate a web of twisted rituals and deadly alliances, the tension between you and Sunghoon ignites once again.But this time, the game is different. With whispers of betrayal and lingering wounds threatening to consume you both, you must decide if trust is a risk worth taking—because in doing so, you are not just exposing the truths they've hidden, but also the feelings you’ve fought so hard to suppress and bury.

Parts ‣ #001 | ‣ #002 | ‣ #003 | ‣ #004: Prelude | ‣ #004: Finale

Genre: vampire!sunghoon | horror | thriller | fantasy | romance (or is it? 😋)||| wc: ~13.2k

Featuring: Anton from Riize. [ PSA! ] There's also a Jaeyun here -- this is actually Enhypen Jake lol. Soz, no one fits the role that Jaeyun has in here better than Dark Blood Jake so I plead you guys to just go along and imagine that the Jake in Part 1-3 and Jaeyun in this Part are two different people ((who happen to look alike)) HAHAH

Warnings: blood; violence; injuries (some are self-inflicted); suggestiveness (some are forced); mentions of crimes (missing persons, murder, serial killings); manipulation; toxicity; trauma.

A/N: because Part 4 is too long, I had to split it into two parts and this is the 2nd part, the Finale. So if you're new to Part 4, please start with the Prelude first if you haven't :>

— xi

The gates groaned open, their rusted hinges echoing like a death knell through the oppressive stillness. Beyond them, the maze stretched into darkness, its towering hedges jagged and irregular, as if the structure itself had grown wild and angry over centuries. You stood among the others at the entrance, the flickering torchlight casting distorted shadows across their pale faces. Fear lingered in the air, clinging like smoke.

The host’s voice rang out, its unnerving cheer slicing through the tension. “Thirty minutes!” he announced. “That’s the grace period you’ve earned, dear victors. Thirty minutes to navigate the maze and claim your freedom. Once the thirty minutes is up, your claimants will descend and should you get captured then your fate is sealed in blood and eternity."

The sharp crack of a gunshot shattered the night, and chaos erupted. Humans surged forward like a desperate tide, plunging into the maze’s gaping maw.

It didn’t take long for the maze to reveal its true nature.

Branches lunged like claws, snagging at clothes and tearing through skin. You flinched as a woman ahead of you stumbled, her sleeve caught and shredded. Blood welled from her arm, the crimson stark against her pale skin. A man further ahead tripped, his cry piercing as a hidden root twisted around his ankle, sending him sprawling. His hand scraped against a jagged stone, a deep gash splitting his palm.

“It’s a... trap,” you muttered under your breath, the pieces clicking into place. Every twisted path seemed designed to injure, every branch poised to tear flesh. Every movement, every stumble left behind the scent of blood, marking them like a beacon. The maze wasn’t a challenge; it was a slaughterhouse, designed to render them helpless before the hunt even began.

You glanced back toward the castle, your breath catching as you spotted the vampires in the Grand Hall beyond the glass-paneled windows. Warm light spilled out, casting golden reflections on the darkened grounds. They lounged at long tables, wine glasses glinting in their hands as they laughed and gestured. It wasn’t chaos to them; it was entertainment. A grotesque theater of blood and desperation, framed perfectly for their amusement.

Resolve hardened in your chest. You weren’t going to play their game.

Turning sharply, you broke away from the panicked crowd and ran back toward the castle. The thought struck you with chilling clarity as your feet pounded against the ground: the staff had been dismissed, the mortals were in the maze. The castle wasn’t just the safest place to escape the hunt—it was the perfect trap as inside those walls, only vampires remained.

There was no way you would let the maze tear you apart piece by piece. If they wanted a game, you’d give them one on your own terms. And so with bold and calculated steps, you headed back, but instead of the Grand Hall where vampires lounged with glasses of wine in hand, reveling in their twisted theater of blood and desperation, you headed deeper—to the cellar you’d stumbled upon yesterday while frantically searching for a first-aid kit after finding Sunghoon bloodied at the foot of your bed.

Back then, you hadn’t paid much attention—your mind consumed with stopping the bleeding. But the sight had lingered: towering racks of bottles and colossal barrels stacked like monoliths. Most importantly, you recalled how the cellar was situated directly beneath the Grand Hall—a precarious foundation for a room already weathered by centuries. Its position alone made it a powder keg waiting for a spark.

Now, as you descended the spiral staircase once more, your steps were deliberate, your breaths steady. The cellar stretched before you, even larger than you’d remembered. Rows of barrels lined the space, their labels faded but still legible in the dim light: port, sherry, even brandy. The air was thick, carrying the faint tang of aged wine and the sharper bite of spirits—a volatile combination.

You moved quickly, tipping barrels one by one. Thick liquid gushed out, pooling across the stone floor in a growing lake. As the pungent scent of wine filled the air, an idea struck you: a trail. The fire couldn’t stay confined to the cellar—it needed to climb, to reach the vampires in their gilded cage above.

Grabbing an uncorked bottle from the shelves, you dipped it into the pooling wine and began creating a path. The liquid splashed as you worked, leaving a continuous, glistening line up the stairs and toward the hall’s entrance. When the first bottle ran dry, you spotted a smaller cask labeled lamp oil. Without hesitation, you tipped it into the mix, thickening the trail. Your hands moved with precision, painting a path meant to spark chaos.

At the top of the staircase, you paused, heart pounding. The torchlight flickered in your grip as you surveyed your work. The lake of wine and spirits in the cellar. The trail snaking upward. The puddle pooling at the hall’s threshold. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do. You recalled overhearing a maid speaking about the Grand Hall—its ancient foundations riddled with cracks and shored up by makeshift supports. If any place in the castle would collapse under fire, it was here.

But, as your surveyed the trail you'd left, you knew it wasn’t enough. You needed chaos. You needed to bait them. You need to cover all the loopholes. Maximise the impact.

So you swiftly reached for the dagger concealed in your garter belt, your eyes darting for a spot to make the sacrifice. Your forearm. Without hesitation, you pressed the blade against your skin, slicing deeper than ever before—this time, you needed more. A sharp sting shot through you, making your breath hitch, but you didn’t falter. Blood welled instantly, warm and vivid, tracing the edge of the wound like liquid fire. With hurried yet deliberate steps, you smeared your blood on the walls leading down to the cellar.

All your near-death interactions with vampires teaches you one important thing: they do not think when it comes to fresh blood when desperation hits.They are creatures of impulse and in the desperation stoked by an inferno—yet another exploitable weakness—the smoke and heat would confuse their senses, leaving the scent of fresh blood as their only compass. Thus, just like how the maze was meant to draw blood—you’d turned their weapon against them, your blood would lead them straight to the hottest part of the castle.

Once you decided blood had strategically been spread enough in certain key locations, you wrapped a torn fabric from your gown tightly—trying to staunch the bleeding before you set your plan in motion.

Your torch flickered ominously, its light casting jagged shadows across the stone walls. It was time.

Crouching low, you ignited the flammable trail at the midpoint of the staircase. Immediately, flames surged to life, spreading upward and downward with terrifying speed. The fire roared as it consumed the path you’d created, its glow painting the narrow corridor in hues of gold and crimson.

You didn’t wait to see the inferno take hold. Spinning on your heel, you darted into a nearby passage—a maid’s shortcut you had overheard during your time wandering the castle. The narrow corridor was damp, the air thick with mildew, but it offered a chance to slip past the chaos you’d unleashed.

When you emerged, the familiar Eastern end of the Corridors of Treachery loomed before you, its twisting halls stretching endlessly into shadow. But this time, you didn’t falter. One last thing, you thought, your steps confident and resolute as you opened a door—the Library.

This was your next target.

The blaze below would cripple them, but the knowledge contained in this room—the ancient texts, the records of their lineage and power—it needed to be destroyed. If the castle was to fall, their legacy must, too, for every words here were like poison, waiting to be unleashed by the next power-hungry bloodsucker.

Your steps were steady as you made your way to the shelves, already knowing where to go. The Obsidian Testament waited for you in its usual place, its ominous presence untouched even amidst the growing chaos. The moonlight spilled through the tall windows, catching the hidden coat of arms engraved on its cover—a silent reminder of Sunghoon’s bloodline, regal and intricate, yet tainted by the weight of its history.

Without hesitation, you lit the edge of the book, watching as the flames began their ravenous work. The coat of arms—so proud, so immovable—gradually crumbled under the heat. You hurled it onto a growing pile of texts, the fire spreading hungrily across the brittle pages.

Let it all burn.

“I knew it was you—" a voice pierced through the sound of crackling flames and the ominous groan of weakening wood.

Jaeyun.

He strode forward with a deliberate, menacing pace, his hand sweeping back his golden hair in a single, frustrated motion. The movement exposed his sharp, angular features. Gone was the mischievous grin that had once softened him, replaced by a cold, predatory expression that turned his beauty into something terrifying.

“I was going to grant you an escape and this—" he roared, “is how you repay me?!”

“As if,” you spat scornfully, “I saw the layout of the maze the other day from the tower–it’s a labyrinth, all towering hedges and twisting paths. No flowers, no statues, no space for anything but confusion. So the moment you told me of statues as the hint for escape, I knew you were trying to bait me."

He scoffed, dragging his sword behind him, the blade scraping against the ground with a grating hiss. The nearby flames cast flickering shadows across his face, making his sneer all the more menacing, “I get it now. You chose me exactly because you needed me here. If you had chosen Sunghoon, you knew I’d left the castle and gone after you–"

You stepped back instinctively, his sneer slowly twisting, faltering into a grimace that betrayed the quiet fury simmering beneath the surface. “You chose me,” he continued, each word dripping with venom, “to trick him. To let him escape this carnage you’ve been planning.”

He didn’t flinch as burnt books tumbled from the crumbling shelves, landing in smouldering heaps around him. His grimace deepened, a bitter edge curling his lips. “How disgustingly cliché.”

“You read too much fairytales.” you hissed, your voice cutting through the crackling of the flames. “I chose you because I knew what a narcissistic, overconfident, manipulative prick you are. I knew you’d let your guard down the moment your name is picked and that is all I needed to take this whole place down. To take the rot down.”

The taunt landed like a strike, and Jaeyun lunged. His speed was startling, and before you could react, your back slammed against a nearby wall. The impact forced the breath from your lungs, your body pinned as his eyes—blazing with a fury to match the fire—bore into yours.

Fuck, you thought, the heat pressing against your skin, the air growing heavier with smoke. At this rate, even you might not escape the fire.

But you’d banked on this. Vampires were slaves to their emotions when pushed to the brink. Jaeyun could have fled. He could have saved himself. Instead, here he was, his rage blinding him to the inferno that threatened to consume them both.

“I can still reap you now,” he snarled, his fangs elongating to their full, menacing length. “You’d be my 100th you know. Two cycles of reaping, countless bodies left in my wake, and still standing. Do you think your little bonfire will end me? Pray harder.”

His hand tightened around your throat, pressing you harder against the wall. The pressure wasn’t just threatening—it was exactly what you needed. His body leaned closer, his focus narrowed to you and his fury. This was the calculated risk you’d taken: baiting him to lose control, to get close enough for you to finish this. And he had proven you right.

You could have fled, but you hadn’t. You’d gambled on his inability to walk away from the stage you’d set ablaze. Jaeyun, the cunning puppeteer, wouldn’t let his masterpiece burn without trying to stop it. His pride wouldn’t allow it. And now, blinded by anger, he failed to notice the flames inching closer, the smoke curling around his form.

“Big talk,” you rasped, your voice steady beneath his crushing grip. “And yet… you’ve already lost.”

His eyes narrowed, a flicker of confusion cutting through the storm of rage. For a split second, his body tensed—but then his gaze dropped.

There, plunged deep into his abdomen, was your dagger. The blade caught the firelight, its hilt adorned with a small charm bearing Sunghoon’s crest. The ruby glinted wickedly, its light reflecting the chaos of the flames around you.

Jaeyun’s grip faltered, his hand loosening slightly as blood, dark and thick, bloomed through his shirt, and you didn’t hesitate. Summoning every ounce of strength you had left, you shoved him off, wrenching the blade free as you bolted out of the library. The flames roared louder now, licking hungrily at the walls, their heat pressing against your back.

But you didn’t make it far. A force barrelled into you, slamming you to the ground with a weight that knocked the air from your lungs.

“Fucking get off me—” you gasped, twisting under his grip.

Jaeyun was on top of you, pinning you with an iron hold. His nails had elongated into claws, sharp and gleaming in the firelight. He pressed them against your neck, just enough to draw thin lines of blood.

“Look at you—squirming like a wounded rabbit. How adorable,” he murmured, his voice soft but dripping with cruel amusement. His weight crushed you against the stone floor, unforgiving and cold beneath you. He forced your head to an unnatural angle, his claws digging deeper, anchoring you helplessly in place.

"Haven't you heard? struggling makes the blood sweeter," he drawled, his head dipping into the crook of your neck, his breathing hot and heavy, "so go ahead—struggle all you want, you are just sweetening my feast."

His tongue dragged across the cut he’d made, slow and deliberate, a mocking gesture that sent a shiver of revulsion down your spine. “Ah,” he exhaled sharply, shuddering in such a revolting way, “there it is—so much sweeter when you fight.” The words dripped from his lips like venom, each syllable a mockery of your helplessness. He lingered, the softness of his lips a deliberate contrast to the sharp sting of his claws. It was as if he was deliberately prolonging the act to rattle you—to cut where it hurts the most: your autonomy and dignity.

“Do you think he tasted you like this?” he whispered, his lips brushing the edge of the wound in deliberate malice and intimacy, relishing in your revulsion and savouring the power he held over you and every flicker of your discomfort. “Or is this my privilege alone?”

He chuckled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your skin. “I wonder…” he murmured, his voice curling with mock tenderness, “does he know how much sweeter you become when you squirm?” His claws pressed harder, the sharp sting blossoming into pain, his next words cutting deeper than his nails ever could. “Or is that just for me too?”

The sharpness of his teeth grazed your neck, far too close, far too sharp—sharper than you remembered Sunghoon’s ever being. Your breath hitched, panic clawing at the edges of your mind, the firelight around you seeming to flicker with your racing pulse. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable—

But then instead of pain. You felt the weight lifted.

A rush of air and heat overwhelmed you as Jaeyun was torn away. Your body trembled, the world tilting for a moment. When you clambered back to your feet, you saw them—two figures clashing across the corridor, their movements a blur amidst glowing embers and smoke-choked air.

Sunghoon and Jaeyun.

The firelight cast jagged shadows across the walls, illuminating the ferocity of their battle.

Sunghoon’s strikes were calculated, but desperation bled into each swing of his blade—precise yet strained. His strength, though formidable, seemed frayed at the edges, each swing costing him more than the last. As he stepped closer to the firelight, you saw it clearly: the cuts marring his face and the dark smudges of ash clinging to his disheveled clothing. He must’ve faced other vampires on his way here, you thought.

In contrast, Jaeyun moved with unnerving ease, his blows quick and unrelenting, each one a chilling display of power. The oppressive heat and smoke clawed at the air, suffocating and disorienting, but Jaeyun seemed untouched—his strength unfaltering, a cruel testament to the reaping cycles that had forged him into something far beyond human, even vampiric.

“You came just in time, Romeo.” Jaeyun sneered, sidestepping a blow with maddening grace. "Did you see how perfectly she fits in my hand?" he taunted as he swung his blade, forcing Sunghoon back, "ah—and her taste. Her warm skin. The way she shivered. You know, if you hadn't interrupted, I’d have heard her make that sound again. You know the one—soft, breathless, perfect."

It was revolting to hear him say those filthy words but at that moment your dignity took a backseat for all you could think of was Sunghoon. As if Jaeyun knew exactly how to play with someone's mind, Sunghoon’s strikes came faster, heavier—but clumsier. Fury bled into every swing, the precision of his usual attacks dulled by anger. Then their swords met with a thunderous crash, the force sending sparks flying as both pressed forward, neither giving ground. Sunghoon’s chest heaved, his labored breaths a stark contrast to Jaeyun’s unnerving composure, his taunting smirk growing wider.

Jaeyun continued, his voice dripping with cruel amusement, “but I guess you wouldn’t know, would you? She has never let you touch her like that, has she?” His grin sharpened, his next words a venomous whisper. “Not the way she let me, at least.”

Sunghoon charged again, his blows landing harder than before, but Jaeyun danced out of reach, his blade glinting in the firelight, "—because she will never accept you the way you are Sunghoon," his voice was laced with mock pity, "you're just another bloodthirsty beast."

Then, with a sudden shift, Jaeyun lunged, forcing Sunghoon back with a flurry of heavy strikes. “You should’ve stopped pretending to be noble and reaped her,” he hissed, his blows driving Sunghoon toward the corner. “That’s the only way you’ll ever have her.” His grin twisted into something darker as he leaned closer, delivering the final barb. “And maybe—just maybe—it would’ve brought back the strength you used to have because this…” Jaeyun’s blade pressed closer, his eyes gleaming with disdain. “—is just pathetic.”

You swallowed thickly for the odds doesn't seem to stack up for Sunghoon. Your body reacted instinctively to go after him, but his gaze stopped you cold. The sharp jerk of his head said it all: Run.

But you couldn’t.

Then their blades clashed again, the sharp ring echoing through the suffocating heat. Sunghoon’s strikes, though deliberate, were slower now, his movements burdened by the corner he’d been forced into. The stone wall pressed against his back, leaving him little room to manoeuver. Yet even there, with Jaeyun bearing down on him, his defiance burned brighter.

“You can amass all the power and influence you want,” Sunghoon said through gritted teeth, his blade locking with Jaeyun’s in a deadly stalemate. His voice was low but cutting, his eyes blazing with quiet fury. “But you’ll never be able to claim something you’ve never had the right to.”

"The blood you take," Sunghoon shoved him back with a surge of strength, their blades separating with a hiss of steel, "won't make yours anymore purer. It just taints you irreparably."

Jaeyun froze for the briefest moment as if the words had landed exactly where they were meant to. The smirk on his lips faltered, not gone but strained, like a mask beginning to crack.

"That is probably why," Sunghoon continued, his strikes growing sharper, each one cutting closer, "my very existence riles you so isn't it? even when I've never made any moves to challenge your house of cards?"

Jaeyun’s movements lost some of their calculated ease, his strikes heavier but less precise, each blow betraying his frustration. The tables had turned and now it was Jaeyun’s turn to be riled up, his composure unraveling with every word.

Sensing the shift, Sunghoon adjusted his stance, lowering his weight in anticipation. Jaeyun lunged, his overconfidence driving him forward—but Sunghoon was ready. With a blur of motion, he pivoted sharply, driving his shoulder into Jaeyun’s chest with brutal force. The impact sent Jaeyun sprawling backward, skidding across the debris-strewn floor until he collided with a broken pillar.

Sunghoon didn’t hesitate. Before Jaeyun could recover, he closed the distance with unrelenting precision, dropping to one knee and driving his blade into Jaeyun’s exposed abdomen. The force of the strike pinned Jaeyun to the ground, his body jerking under the weight of the blow. Blood bloomed instantly, dark and thick, pooling across the cracked stone beneath them. Jaeyun hissed, his hands clawing at the blade embedded in his torso. For a moment, it seemed as though Sunghoon had won. You held your breath, hope flickering to life.

Then, Jaeyun’s lips curled into a bloodied smirk. “You're nowhere enough,” he rasped, his voice laced with venom, “—of a challenge Sunghoon.”

It was only then you noticed it—Jaeyun’s own blade, slick with Sunghoon’s blood, had been driven deep into his flank. You hadn’t seen the strike. Neither had Sunghoon. But there it was, protruding cruelly through his abdomen, crimson spreading across his shirt like spilled ink.

“Sunghoon!” The name tore from your lips, sharp and raw. You stepped forward instinctively, but before you could reach him, the ceiling above groaned ominously. A massive chunk of debris collapsed, slamming into the ground between you and them.

The impact sent you stumbling back, coughing as a thick cloud of smoke and dust billowed around you. “No—” you rasped, your voice cracking as you strained to see through the haze.

Sunghoon gritted his teeth, his knuckles tightening on his blade, though he didn’t withdraw. Nor did he stagger nor falter. Instead, he shifted his weight forward, his strength bearing down on the blade, every ounce of effort ensuring Jaeyun couldn’t push him off.

“You sure about that?” Sunghoon rasped, his voice hoarse and strained.

Jaeyun’s smirk twisted into confusion as his eyes darted down. Horror dawned as he saw Sunghoon’s blood streaming from his wound, dripping steadily onto the gaping injury in Jaeyun’s abdomen—the wound you had inflicted earlier. The reaction was instantaneous. Frost-like patterns spreading outward from the contact point, jagged and unrelenting, crystallising his torso and limbs, locking him in place. His claws scrambled at the stone floor, scraping against it in desperation as his body stiffened. His voice cracked, teetering on the edge of panic. “No-no—you—“

You recalled an excerpt from The Annals of Kings—a fleeting detail about how the blood of a Pureblood, though inert on the skin of another vampire, becomes lethal toxin when mingled with another’s wounds—an alchemical reaction born of their cursed lineage. And therein lay the tragedy: the blood they so revered—the symbol of their purity, power, and immortality—was also their undoing. The very essence that granted them supremacy over all others carried the seeds of their destruction, a cruel paradox embedded in their existence.

You realized then what Sunghoon had allowed Jaeyun to do. He hadn’t just been defending himself; he had turned his own wound into a weapon. Sunghoon had weaponized the very thing their kind held sacred, knowing it would be Jaeyun’s end—even as it left him vulnerable to his own impending collapse. In heaving, ragged breaths, Sunghoon rasped, “I only finished what she started—". His eyes met yours for a fleeting moment the weight of his gaze—the unspoken truth behind his sacrifice—struck you harder than any blow.

Jaeyun regurgitated, his body stiffening as the crystal consumed him entirely, his face locked in a mask of rage and terror. A sharp crack echoed through the hall as his crystalline form splintered, into ashen dust, swirling briefly in the fiery glow before dissipating into the suffocating smoke, vanishing as though he had never existed.

Sunghoon staggered back from the remains, his breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. His hands moved to the blade embedded in his flank, his fingers trembling as he gripped the hilt. With a sharp, agonized groan, he wrenched it free, the sound of metal against flesh almost drowned out by the crackling flames around him.

The moment the blade left his body, blood poured from the wound in thick, unrelenting streams. His face, already pale, lost what little colour it had left, the crimson staining his hands stark against his ashen skin. He swayed, his frame lurching unsteadily as though the weight of the air itself had become too much to bear.

And then he pitched forward, catching himself on trembling hands before he collapsed entirely. Blood dripped from his wound in heavy rivulets as his body sagged against the stone floor. For a moment, he seemed almost unrecognizable—so human in his fragility, so far from the invulnerable figure you had known.

You should have ran away then.

The exit was there, your path to freedom blazing clearly through the smoke and flames. You could have escaped—left behind the horrors that had haunted you, the chaos that had led you to this moment.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you ran toward him. Through the flames and falling debris, through the suffocating heat, you reached him. His weight sagged heavily against you as you tried to pull him upright, your arms straining with the effort.

His face was pale, slick with sweat, and streaked with soot. Blood continued to pour freely from his wound, dark and thick, in a way that was achingly human. His eyes, so often guarded and unreadable, now lay bare—soft and raw, stripped of all pretense.

“You’re stupid!” you choked out, your voice trembling as you pressed your hands against his wound, desperate to staunch the bleeding. “Why did you come back to the castle?”

“You’re the stupid one,” he rasped, a faint, ghostly smirk tugging at his cracked lips. “Why haven’t you run? I stalled long enough for you—”

“Shut up,” you snapped, panic lacing your words as you struggled to lift him again. His body was limp, heavier than you could manage alone, and he slumped back to his knees, his breathing shallow and laboured, each breath a fight.

He was worse off than the last time you’d patched him up—far worse—and the realization sent a jolt of fear through you. At this rate, neither of you would escape the flames. You’d both burn together in this crumbling castle.

“Perhaps,” he murmured, his voice barely audible now, “we’ve bantered long enough.”

His body pitched forward, and you caught him instinctively. His weight collapsed into your arms, his head coming to rest weakly in the nook of your shoulder. You felt the faint brush of his lips against your skin—soft, fleeting, and entirely unlike the possessive ferocity you’d known from him. His hand trembled as it moved to your back, curling with a weak insistence, a stark contrast to the vice-like grip he had on you just hours ago.

“I’m letting you go now, y/n,” he whispered, his words a quiet confession, laced with both sorrow and resolve. “This is the only way I could ever let you go.”

Your breath hitched. You knew what he meant, and you didn’t want that. Perhaps you never did.

“No,” you said, your voice trembling but firm, the weight of your conviction cutting through the chaos around you. Tears welled in your eyes, but they didn’t fall. Not yet.

Your hands moved with purpose, tearing the makeshift bandage from your arm. Blood pooled from the cut, rich and red, but you didn’t hesitate. “Take my blood, Sunghoon,” you demanded, thrusting your arm toward him. “Quickly. You need it—”

He shook his head weakly, his breaths shallow and uneven. “y/n, go,” he rasped, his voice barely audible above the roar of the flames. “We’re running out of time.”

“Damn it, Sunghoon!” you barked, desperation breaking through the cracks in your resolve. “You don’t get to tell me what to do—not now, not like this!”

His eyes, already losing focus, flickered with something—protest, perhaps, or regret. But you didn’t give him the chance. Before he could stop you, you brought your arm to your lips, the sharp metallic tang of blood filling your mouth. Without hesitation, you grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close, crushing your lips to his.

The transfer was immediate. You felt his body stiffen, his hand twitching weakly against your back in surprise. When you pulled away, his lips were stained crimson, his gaze dazed, unfocused.

“Is that enough?” you asked, your voice trembling. “it’s not right? take more.” You leaned closer, your breathing uneven as you tilted your head to the side. “Take it from my neck. That works best for you, doesn’t it?”

“y/n, stop—” he croaked, his voice fractured.

For a moment, you froze, your gaze locking onto his. The sight of him—so pale, so vulnerable, teetering on the edge of collapse—was unbearable, it was twisting your heart painfully. Frustration burned through you, hot and unrelenting.

“You’re making this hard,” you muttered under your breath, your voice shaking.

Before he could utter another word, you shifted upwards, wrapping your arms tightly over his shoulder, steadying him and angling yourself so that his face was close enough to your neck. “Bite me,” you whispered, your voice thick with both resolve and something far more raw. “I’ll let you.”

The hand he already had on your back shifted, his fingers curling faintly into the fabric of your gown, but it wasn’t a grip of possession, but one of desperation—as though he was afraid you might disappear if he didn’t hold on tight. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, his other hand began to move. Trembling, hesitant, it brushed against your shoulder, its path uncertain, as though he feared you might flinch or pull away.

The roughness of his palm met the curve of your neck, his touch both gentle and weighted. His fingers curled there, delicate yet unyielding, cradling the nape of your neck as though it was something fragile, irreplaceable. Each movement was deliberate, almost reverent, as if he was memorizing the feel of your skin beneath his hand.

It wasn’t the possessive grip you’d known before. This was something far more tender, far more devastating. It was as though his very existence hung by a thread, and you were the only thing keeping him from unraveling completely.

“y/n. You don't understand. I’ve lost too much blood,” he murmured, his lips brushing featherlight against your neck. “I wouldn’t be able to stop—”

“I trust you,” you interrupted, your voice trembling but unyielding as you held him tighter. “I trust you, Sunghoon. I trust that you’ll take just enough to survive.”

His hold on you tightened as if trying to ground himself in the weight of your words. I trust you—the words hung between you, fragile yet immense. It was the very words he needed to hear all along; the very words you’ve fought so desperately not to feel, much less say.

Then, slowly, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes searching yours for something—reassurance, resolve. The firelight danced across his face, highlighting the shadows of exhaustion etched into his features. The vulnerability in his gaze was a blade cutting both ways, and you knew it would haunt you long after this moment passed.

“I trust you,” you repeated softly, your voice unwavering this time.

Above you, debris crashed to the floor, the flames roaring louder. The heat was suffocating, the air thick with smoke, but you didn’t move. Neither did he. Time was slipping away, but in this moment, it felt as though the world had narrowed to just the two of you.

His expression twisted, as though your words had broken something in him. Pain flickered across his face—not just physical, but something deeper, something that had been buried for far too long. His hand, trembling now, reached up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered there, gentle and deliberate, as if committing the feel of you to memory. Then his hand shifted, cradling the side of your neck. His thumb grazed your skin, reverent, unhurried, as though this was both a goodbye and a plea to stay.

“We’re always at odds, aren’t we?” he murmured softly, "I asked you to run but you stayed. I asked you to save yourself, but you're trying to save me instead."

You grinned bitterly, “always.”

For a moment, his gaze lingered, searching yours, before he dipped his head into the crook of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, almost hesitant. Then the sharp prickle of pain came—a fleeting sting as his fangs broke your skin—but it was eclipsed by the strange, disarming lull that followed.

His grip on you tightened, his body pressing closer, desperate and unyielding. You could feel the urgency in every movement, the hunger in every pull of his lips against your skin. It was overwhelming, the pull of his fangs relentless, like he was drawing not just blood but something far deeper—something he couldn’t bear to lose.

You should have been terrified. You should have fought back.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Even as your vision blurred, as the edges of the world dissolved into the inferno raging around you, one truth anchored you to him:

You trusted him.

— xii

You woke with a jolt, a sharp gasp tearing through your chest as sterile, artificial air filled your lungs. The glaring white walls seemed to close in around you, their starkness more oppressive than calming. Fluorescent lights hummed faintly above, casting an antiseptic glow that made the space feel detached, clinical—eerily devoid of life.

Your gaze darted frantically across the room, your pulse racing with every detail that didn’t belong. There was no warmth here, no trace of familiarity. Just the suffocating stillness pressing down on you, as though the air itself had weight. For a terrifying moment, it felt like a void, a purgatory for fractured souls. Perhaps you were dead. After everything—the chaos, the blood, the flames—was this where it all ended?

A tremor passed through you, the memory of his voice, his face, flashing like a spark in the darkness. The desperation in his eyes. The warmth of his hand against yours, the fragile connection you clung to even as the world burned around you.

“Sunghoon?” The name slipped from your lips before you could stop it, trembling with hope and fear. It wasn’t just a question; it was a plea, a tether you threw into the void, praying it would hold. The sound of it shattered the oppressive silence, leaving a raw ache in its wake.

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, and pain flared like lightning through your body. Every nerve screamed in protest—your ribs, your limbs, even the faintest breath. “Sunghoon?” you called again, louder this time, the desperation cracking through your voice.

You forced yourself upright, your bare feet meeting the icy bite of the tile floor. Your legs wobbled beneath you, your strength slipping like sand through your fingers. The IV pole clattered to the ground as you collapsed, clutching the bedframe in a desperate bid for balance.

The sound shattered the room’s oppressive quiet and almost immediately the door swung open with a sharp creak. Your heart leapt, relief surging through your veins. “Sungho—”

But it wasn’t him.

“y/n!” Anton’s voice cut through the tension as he hurried to your side, his face etched with concern. He dropped to his knees beside you, steadying your trembling frame. “What are you doing? You’re still too weak. Lie back down!”

“Anton,” you rasped, your hands gripping his shirt tightly. “Where’s Sunghoon?”

“Sunghoo—?” He frowned, confused, before realization dawned. “Ah, Mr. Park? y/n, he left weeks ago. Don’t you remember? He was called back to his headquarters. Some urgent matters in Prague.”

You shook your head vehemently, your grip on him tightening. “No, that’s not right. He was with me. He—”

“y/n,” Anton said gently but firmly, helping you back onto the bed. “you’ve been unconscious for 2 weeks—your mind is probably still foggy especially given all you had to endure. Don’t you remember? We held a farewell lunch for him? You were there, muttering spiteful things under your breath when he delivered his farewell speech.”

You froze, staring at him in disbelief. “We didn’t,” you whispered hoarsely. “He was—” The words died in your throat. You clung to the fragments of memory that felt more like splinters now. “What about the people then? and the- the castle?”

Anton’s sat beside you, voice gentle, “the castle is gone, razed to the ground. Some people were found scattered across the compound, but all of them had hazy memories—smoke inhalation and trauma-induced amnesia, according to the doctors. No signs of foul play though. Just a gas leak in an old building. The fire spread too fast.”

“How about casualties?” you asked, your mind flashing to the vampires that should be stuck in the hall.

Anton shook his head. “None. Just scattered jewelry and strange clothing pieces found in the halls—probably left behind by looters after the fire started. Authorities have investigated it thoroughly though and nothing indicates foul play. Even the castle’s owner isn’t pressing charges or requesting further inquiry.”

“But Sungh- someone – someone must have been with me,” you pressed on, the words stumbling out.

“y/n,” Anton repeated, his voice more serious now, “no one was. You were alone in the glasshouse. The only one unconscious, in fact. They theorised, given the proximity, you must have spent a lot of time inside compared to others which is why you were unconscious. But point is—investigations had been done and foul play is ruled out. Everyone is safe.”

“Every..." you echoed, “—no. I think there were some who didn’t— do you have a list? the guests? the survivo—" your words faltered as your head spun, a sharp pang cutting through the fog of your thoughts. You groaned, swaying unsteadily. Anton was quick to catch you, steadying your trembling form as he guided you to lean back against the bed.

"y/n, stop—" he said, his tone full of concern. "Look, you've been unconscious for almost 2 weeks. You're not in the right state of mind yet. Let me get the doctor first, okay? don’t move.”

You barely registered his words as you stared up at the sterile ceiling, your mind racing with fragmented memories. Sunghoon. The flames. The battle. His bloodied body against yours. The way he’d looked at you in those final moments—his eyes full of something unspoken, something that clung to you even now.

Instinctively, your hand rose to your neck, brushing against the skin there—and froze. Faint but undeniable, you felt it: a mark. His bite mark.

Your breath hitched as the weight of it sank in. It was the confirmation you needed. That he was real. That your memories weren’t muddled or fabricated. That he had been there.

For a moment, a spark of relief lit in your chest. He’d been there. You hadn’t imagined him. The connection you clung to wasn’t some fever dream born of smoke and fear.

But as your fingers lingered over the faint indentations, that spark dimmed, flickering under the weight of a new truth.

Anton had said you’d been unconscious for two weeks. Two weeks. Two weeks is a long time for someone like him to stay away. Too long.

Suddenly, the silence felt unbearable—crushing in its emptiness, each second a reminder of all the truths his absence could mean. Each one as cruel as the next.

— xiii

A month had passed, and unlike before—when you could sense Sunghoon in the shadows, catch the faintest trace of his cologne lingering in the air, or swear you felt his touch as you brushed past strangers—he was utterly, completely gone.

His absence was deafening.

So you buried yourself in work, to drown out the silence that followed you everywhere and to lock the memories away. Perhaps if you don’t think about it, the ache would dull. Even better, fade entirely.

Until one night.

You were reaching for something from the shelves in your bedroom when your elbow knocked a box off the shelf. It crashed to the floor with a hollow thud, its contents spilling out in an unceremonious heap. You froze, your pulse quickening as you recognized it—the box of belongings you’d had with you when they took you to the hospital. You’d refused to unpack it then, shoving it out of sight to avoid reopening wounds that hadn’t even begun to heal. The castle. The flames. Him.

But it had been a month. Surely, someone like you would have moved on by now.

“It’s just clothes,” you muttered to yourself, crouching to gather the scattered items. Your fingers brushed against the fabric of the dress you’d worn that night. It felt foreign and familiar all at once, its torn edges and scorched seams tangible remnants of that nightmare. As you bunched it up, you winced and drop the dress, a sharp sting prickling your fingertip.

“Ouch,” you muttered, seeing it draw blood. “What kind of dress would be this sha-"

It was a brooch.

No, not just any brooch. It was a brooch bearing his crest. Sunghoon’s crest.

The ruby gleamed faintly, tarnished by smoke and fire, but still unmistakable. Regal. Intricate. For a moment, you froze, your breath catching in your throat. It lay nestled in the folds of the dress, as if it had always been waiting for you to find it. Tentatively, your fingers closed around it, and as you pulled it free, the weight of it settled in your palm like a stone.

Your breath hitched as the dam burst. Memories flooded in—his voice, his touch, the way he’d looked at you in those final moments. The way he’d fought for you. The way he’d bled for you. The way he’d let you go.

The way he was gone.

Your chest tightened painfully as you stared at the brooch, its sharp edges pressing into your palm. This was all that remained. The only proof that he had existed, that any of it had been real.

The thought clawed at you, unrelenting, as a darker possibility crept into your mind. Vampires left no trace when they perished—no ashes, no remains. If he was gone, truly gone, you might never know. And that terrified you. In fact it terrified and pained you even more than if he was gone simply because he had walked away.

Your grip on the crest tightened, the sharp edges digging into your skin, grounding you in a pain that couldn’t compare to the ache tearing through your chest. You closed your eyes, clutching it to your heart, as though holding it closer might somehow bridge the impossible distance between you and him.

You closed your eyes, whispering his name into the stillness of the room, hoping—praying—that somehow, somewhere, he could hear you.

But the room offered no answer.

Only silence. Only absence.

And the ache—deep and unrelenting—remained.

(( just kidding 🤡 ))

Five years had passed.

Sunghoon never re-eappeared in your life.

You have by then made peace with the fact that perhaps he was never coming back. Perhaps he was gone. Forever.

Memories of him didn’t sting as sharply as they once did. The ache was still there, faint and distant, like a hole you cannot fill but it’s at least not a gaping hole anymore.

By then you could even convince yourself that perhaps, you have really gotten over him.

But then you’d be an outright liar.

Because you still wore his crest as a pendant, hidden beneath your shirt—a weight you carried, not just on your chest but deep within you. It was a quiet reminder, a silent wall you couldn’t breach.

And while memories of him no longer brought tears to your eyes, dreams of those nights—the chaos, the fire, the way his blood soaked through your hands—still jolted you awake, your face damp with tears you didn't remember shedding. They were the only testament to how deeply, how irreparably, the experience and memories had scarred you.

So you did what you did best: buried yourself in work. You numbed the ache, dulled the thoughts that haunted you, and clawed your way to higher pinnacles of success, reaching farther than you’d ever imagined. Even now, halfway across the world in Venice, Italy, you weren’t here for leisure—you were here for work.

It wasn’t until your final evening that Anton managed to drag you to the Carnevale di Venezia. “You need to live more,” he said, practically shoving you into the car. Begrudgingly, you agreed.

But the moment you stepped out of the car, you were greeted by men and women in elaborate period gowns and Venetian masks—and your stomach twisted.

The sight wasn’t just familiar—it was identical. Hauntingly so. To that of five years ago.

Sickening memories long buried clawed their way back to the surface—the blood, the shadows, the terror. It didn’t carry the ache it once had, but it brought something far worse: a creeping fear that wormed its way beneath your calm exterior, unraveling the composure you’d worked so hard to rebuild.

You swallowed hard, legs heavy, but Anton was too enamoured with the festivities to notice. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you through the crowd like an overexcited child.

When he stopped in front of an antique shop selling ornate masks and extravagant dresses, you could feel the air thinning. The shopkeeper offered you a delicate mask to try on, but as Anton reached toward your face to put one on, your body reacted faster than your mind did. Your hand shot up, gripping his wrist in an iron hold, your fingers digging into his skin, as if you were trying to fend him off. As if he was attacking you.

“y/n—” he froze, his voice laced with shock, his playful grin vanishing. His gaze flickered to your trembling hand, then back to your face, his concern deepening.

Your heart pounded, the masks and laughter around you blurring into dark suffocating shadows. For a moment, you weren’t in Venice. You were back there—in the castle, in the nightmare. You blinked rapidly, forcing yourself to breathe, “sorry,” you stammered, dropping his wrist as though it burned you, “I—uh—the breakfast I had this morning—it’s not sitting right.”

Anton rubbed his wrist, his brows furrowed in confusion and concern. “y/n, are you okay?”

You forced a smile, though it felt like it might crack under the weight of your panic. “I’m fine,” you said quickly, waving him off. “Just... go ahead and try something on. I’ll stick with you—just not with all this.” You gestured vaguely at the masks, hoping he wouldn’t press further.

Anton sighed, his concern still visible. “Fine. Promise me you'll stop brooding and actually try to have some fun after?”

“What are you? Five?” you teased halfheartedly, shoving him playfully toward a nearby fitting room to change.

When he emerged from the fitting room, the sheer absurdity of his appearance—a frock too large, a mask so elaborate it drowned his features—pulled a reluctant laugh from you. For a fleeting moment, the tension in your chest eased and you let yourself be dragged along as Anton paraded through the festivities, snapping pictures and weaving through the crowd with unabashed joy.

But then, a procession swept through.

Figures in hooded cloaks and plague doctor masks glided past, their movements deliberate and haunting. The crowd murmured in awe, parting to let them pass, but you froze. The sight slammed into you like a blow, the memories rising unbidden—shadows in corridors, masks that promised death, the chase that had nearly taken everything from you.

“Anton,” you called, your voice tight, panic edging in. “Let’s move on—”

But he was gone.

“Anton?” Your voice cracked as you turned in place, your eyes darting through the sea of masked strangers. The crowd swelled, pressing against you, their laughter sharp and hollow, the music twisting into a dissonant wail. “Anton!” you shouted, louder now, desperation threading through your words.

No response.

The world spun, the faces around you blurring into grotesque shapes. Each mask seemed to leer at you, each figure a spectre of the past. Your breaths came shallow and rapid, the air thick, suffocating.

You stumbled, muttering apologies to strangers who didn’t respond, their masked faces a wall of indifference.

Then suddenly ahead, you caught sight of a figure perched on a raised platform, dressed in elaborate silks that shimmered in the flickering light. But it wasn’t the outfit that made your stomach drop—it was the mask.

A jester mask.

The painted grin stretched unnaturally wide, its hollow eyes glinting as though they could see through you. Bells dangled from the cap, their faint chime cutting through the distant hum of laughter. The figure moved with a deliberate slowness, their head tilting at an unnatural angle as they raised their hand. A thorny rose appeared in their grasp, the gesture painfully deliberate, as though meant just for you.

And then, with a flick of their wrist, the rose ignited, flames curling up the stem until it disintegrated into ash. The sharp smell of burning filled the air, suffocating and bitter, clawing at your senses. The fire, the laughter, the castle, Jaeyun—it all came rushing back, vivid and unrelenting. You spun on your heel, desperate to escape, only to collide with someone else.

A man in a Bauta mask loomed over you, his breath audible through the thin slits. His towering frame bent closer, murmuring something low and indistinct. But you didn’t hear him. Couldn’t. The panic clawed at your chest, your vision tunneling as you shoved past him and broke into the crowd again.

The masks blurred together, grotesque and faceless, shadows from a nightmare that wouldn’t end. You moved blindly, each step unsteady, until—

You saw him.

An uncovered face, sharp and unmistakable in a sea of obscured ones.

The air seemed to leave your lungs. The noise of the carnival faded, the crowd melting into a haze of color and motion.

No mask. No cloak. Just him.

But it couldn’t be, you told yourself. It had to be a hallucination, your mind playing cruel tricks, dredging him up from memories you’d buried too deep. Then suddenly the crowd surged again, jostling you sideways. Your feet stumbled against the uneven pavement, your balance slipping.

You braced for the fall, but strong arms caught you.

“I’m sorry—” you began, your voice trembling as you tried to gather yourself. But then your gaze drop, and the words died in your throat. Right in your line of sight, pinned to the lapel of his suit, was a ruby crest, gleaming faintly under the dim, flickering light.

The very crest you wore as a pendant, tucked close to your heart like a secret you refused to let go of.

Your breath hitched, the roar of your pulse drowning out the world, the air turning electric as the ache in your chest returned with a vengeance. The carnival around you dissolved into nothingness, leaving only the man before you.

Your trembling eyes trailed upward, hesitation clawing at you with every inch. Fear mingled with hope, disbelief warred with yearning. And then you saw him.

Sunghoon.

It was really him. The sharp lines of his jaw, the darkness of his eyes, the way his presence seemed to draw the air from your lungs. He wasn’t wearing a mask, just like you. Amidst a sea of hidden faces, he stood barefaced, unapologetically himself.

Time seemed to still. Your heart clenched painfully as the flood of emotions you’d spent five years suppressing surged forward, overwhelming you.

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.

His gaze was still so intense and all-consuming, yet it no longer had the same sharpness as it did before. It no longer aimed to paralyze you or probe the depths of your mind. Instead, it carried a softness, an ache, as though trying to express all the things that words had failed to capture. And just like that, in the silence, in the circle of each other's arms, the years of separation unraveled in the space between you. Every unspoken word, every lingering ache, every memory you’d fought to bury rose to the surface, raw and undeniable, contained in that one look.

Your lips parted, but no sound came. You weren’t even sure what you wanted to say. His name? An accusation? A plea?

Yet, as if avoidance and defensiveness were hardwired into you when it came to him, you started to pull yourself away—but, as always, he anticipated it and before you could even take a step back, his grip on you tightened.

“y/n, don’t,” he said, his grip strong yet his voice soft, almost pleading.

The sound of your name on his lips shattered something inside you. You swallowed hard, your pulse hammering in your ears. “You left,” you whispered, barely able to hear your own voice. “You never came back. I—” you stammered, “—I even thought you might have died.”

“I’m here now,” he murmured, his voice steady but laced with something heavier—guilt, perhaps, or regret. “I never wanted to leave you y/n. But I had to.”

You stiffened, the heat rising in your chest overtaking the trembling in your hands. “You had to?” the bitterness in your voice surprised even you. “That’s what you’re going with? You had to vanish, leave me with nothing but questions—nothing but ghosts—and then reappear like you’ve done nothing wrong? like some noble martyr?”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away. “You think it was easy for me? That leaving you behind was some choice I wanted to make?”

“Then why?” your voice cracked, the words sharper than you intended. “Why did you leave? You could have left a trace, a sign, let me know that—” you caught yourself, shaking your head as your hands balled into fists, “—no. You know what, it doesn't matter anymore. You should have continued to stay away. I was doing just fine. Finally doing just fine and yet here you are. Must have been fun staying in the shadows and trailing me around—seeing me lose my mind in the past 5 years then coming back just when I've finally gotten over you?!"

The accusation lingered, heavy in the space between you.

But even as you spoke, the weight of your own words pressed against you. Wasn’t this exactly what you wanted—to see him again? To demand an answer for the questions that had haunted you in the dead of night? And yet, now that he was here, standing in front of you, the anger felt hollow. A shield, yes, but one that barely held back the ache threatening to flood through the cracks.

You glanced at his face, searching for something—anything—that would reignite the rage you clung to so desperately. But his eyes, dark and steady, reflected none of the sharp arrogance you once associated with him. Instead, they were quiet. Soft. Aching.

Damn him. Damn him for looking at you like that, as if you meant something to him. As if he was hurting just as much as it had hurt you.

His grip on your wrist loosened, but he didn’t let go, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “y/n I had no choice," he said softly, his voice steady despite the tremor beneath it. “The fire may have purged the deviants who deserved punishments but it sent shockwaves through my world. If I’d stayed, I would have brought danger to your door..." he sighed, "so I stayed away. And continued staying away especially after seeing you finally able to smile and laugh so freely over the recent years—as if you could finally breathe. I realised then that perhaps this was the sacrifice I needed to make, the debt I owed you—your peace."

His voice dropped, quieter now, as though the memory itself was unbearable. “But then tonight…” his hand flexed at his side, his grip on your wrist tightening briefly. “I saw the terror and dread suddenly return to your face—the very expressions I swore I’d never let you feel again." He paused, his jaw tightening as his gaze flickered to meet yours, “—and before I even knew what I was doing, it all broke. Every reason I had to stay away dissipated and all I wanted—all I want—is to protect you. To take it all away.”

He took a step closer, the space between you shrinking. His voice softened, steady but raw. “And when our eyes met. I thought there was something there—some sort of softness. For once, you didn't look at me with the usual armor in your eyes…" he faltered, his throat tightening, “—and that stripped away the last vestiges of my resolve; every lie I told myself. I realised then, I was never meant to be a saint nor be selfless. Not with you."

You froze, his vulnerability hitting you harder than it should have. But the simmering anger, the years of buried hurt, clawed its way back to the surface. “You’re always so good at that you know—vanishing, making me go nearly insane with guilt, and then coming back just when I thought I’d finally gotten over you.” You swallowed hard, the bitterness in your voice sharpening. “Exactly like 13 years ago, after I poisoned you.”

He stilled, his gaze flickering with something unreadable—regret, pain, guilt. But you didn’t give him a chance to speak.

"Back then, you should have come back, hunted me down and killed me—" you hissed, your voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "We'd have nipped it in the bud. Save ourselves. But instead, you dragged it on for so long. Perhaps this was your way of ruining me—from the inside out. The first time through guilt. The second time through loss."

He swallowed thickly, his mouth parting as though to sigh, but the sound never came. His jaw tensed, and when he finally spoke, his voice carried the weight of a confession dragged from the depths of him. "y/n. I stayed away the first time because I was afraid."

His gaze flickered down for a moment, as if grounding himself, before rising to meet yours again. "After you poisoned me, I was afraid that if I saw you again..." he paused, his jaw tightening as though the words physically hurt to say. "—I wouldn’t want to kill you. That instead—like some pathetic moth drawn to the flame, or worse, like a stupid dog that doesn’t see the cruelty of its master—I’d come running to you. I’d embrace you."

The words hung between you, the implication of every words filling the space—a confession that tore through you even as it laid him bare. That was when you realised, perhaps, just like how you've avoided him to prevent anything from growing between you, Sunghoon's scathing and predatory words were perhaps his way of masking his devotion—a way to convince himself that it was all simply powerplay and primal desires. And you take that bait too literally as it all fitted with your own defense mechanism—the logic and rationality that you always employ to stop yourself from becoming vulnerable. But knowing the truth didn’t soften the ache. If anything, it sharpened it—because it meant you had been fighting the same battle, just on opposite sides. Both of you circling the same truth but never daring to claim it.

"Then maybe all this proves is that we're never meant to be. Like fire feeding fire, we burn each other alive, pretending it's warmth, until there's nothing left of us but smoke and ruin," you said, your voice hollow but steady, as if the words had been carved out of you.

“Then let me be the ruin,” he closed the remaining distance between you, his presence towering but his movements slow, as though afraid to startle you. "Let it burn me down to nothing. Let it hollow me out, scorch every part of me. But don’t ask me to extinguish it—not when it’s the only thing keeping me alive."

"You've lived for so long," you murmured, your voice heavy with exhaustion. "you, of all people, should know better that being self-destructive like this doesn't ensure happiness."

“It’s exactly because I’ve lived for so long,” he said, his voice low and weighted with a quiet sorrow, “that I know ruin is the only thing that stays, where nothing else lasts.”

The silence that followed was thick, not suffocating but heavy, like something unspoken had finally settled between you. When he drew closer, you didn't back away this time. When his hand cupped your cheek—warm, steady, and lingering—you didn’t pull away either. It wasn’t forgiveness, and it wasn’t surrender. But for now, it was enough for it conveyed more than words ever could.

Two years had passed since you were reunited with Sunghoon. Seven years since the fire. And fifteen years, in total, since you met him—the man who had brought chaos, danger, and frustration into your life than you thought possible.

If someone had told you then that he would become a near-permanent fixture in your life—and your apartment—you might have laughed. Or rolled your eyes.

Or poisoned him again.

“Fuck,” you nearly dropped your groceries as you stepped into your apartment to find him lounging on the couch like he owned the place, dressed in pajama bottoms and a black robe. Its opening, casually loose and just revealing enough to hint at his chest, made the sight far too leisurely for your liking. In fact, he looked so at ease, so disgustingly domestic, like he belonged—but the sight only made his presence feel more invasive. “Why are you always here? Go back to your penthouse. It’s way bigger.”

“But there’s no you,” he said, far too smoothly, suddenly reappearing beside you. Before you could protest, he took the groceries from your hands, unpacking them into the fridge and shelves with alarming familiarity.

Perhaps it wasn’t alarming anymore. He’d been doing this for months—showing up whenever he had a moment to spare from whatever duties occupied a vampire’s time. He even bought the unit next to yours, offering excuses to drop by that were as ridiculous as they were transparent: needing eggs, faulty lighting, lost keys. All nonsense, of course, since he didn’t need nourishment, had no reason to fear the dark and can teleport just fine if he wanted to.

“Right, what’s your excuse tonight?” you asked, flopping onto the couch.

“The a/c is broken,” he replied smoothly.

“You used that excuse two weeks ago Sunghoon.”

“Did I?” he mused, unbothered. “Well, this time it’s the sprinklers. Got set off when I was trying to sear my steak. Now the place is flooded. Disgusting, really.”

You scoffed. “Sunghoon, cut the crap. What do you want from me?”

“Nothing. I just want to be with you,” he quipped with a shrug. “You always rejected my offer to ask you to move in with me—penthouse, townhouse, heck even the manor near that hiking spot you like—so here I am. Playing househusband. Or maid, depending on the day.”

“Right,” you said, raising a brow, “you definitely need to stop lounging around in that robe. It’s too casual. People might think you’re my husband or something.”

He grinned, the corner of his mouth tilting upward in that infuriating way. “That’s the goal.”

“You know normal humans and vampires can’t co-exist in that way right?”

“We’re anything but normal y/n,” he replied smoothly, making his way to the living room and plopping down to your left. His elbow propped lazily on the headrest, his posture screaming nonchalance, as if daring you to challenge him. “We can do whatever we please. Or however you please.”

You furrowed your brows, annoyed. If his teasing back then had been a game of one-upmanship—an endless, borderline competitive battle of wits—now it had shifted into something more dangerous. Flirtatious, deliberate, and entirely designed to fluster you. A different ball game—one you weren’t used to playing.

Leaning back, you crossed your arms. “Well, bad news. It’s time for me to do normal stuff and settle down, and the guy earlier—”

“Right, the one you had a date with—“ he cut in, “—or rather the one you were forced to meet up with—“

“—is the best candidate so far,” you continued, rolling your eyes at his interruption. You were used to it by now—used to him knowing too much about your life, like an ever-present fly on the wall, “—he is mature, understanding, and not clingy.”

“Sounds exactly like me but a pale imitiation because come on, I am way good looking in a way no human can replicate and most importantly,” his hand found your jaw, tilting your face toward him. His voice dropped, low and steady. “Only I understand you and your complexity y/n and only you understand mine. We are made for each other—we’re too dysfunctional for others, but perfect for each other. No one else could survive us.”

“Then what if one day I feel so suffocated and poison you again?” you shot back.

“I’ll let you,” he said quietly, his lips curving in a subtle, almost resigned way as his eyes bore into yours. This could have been lighthearted and playful but those voice and those gaze were anything but. “I've told you this before: I’ll let you ruin me in the end as long as you’ll have me.”

“Don’t you ever feel that you’ve given too much and I’ve not given enough—" you retorted. It wasn’t meant to hurt him. You just wanted to come clean with him.

“Oh, I know that very much. Better than anyone in fact—” he murmured, his fingers brushing your collar before slipping beneath it, catching the chain that lay hidden against your skin. “And this—” he lifted it gently, his thumb grazing the crest you wore as a pendant with a reverence that only he could feel, “—you wearing this—it says more than you ever could.”

“Don’t get any ideas,” you muttered, smacking his hand off. “Your crest has been very useful—it keeps other biters at bay.”

Then suddenly, his hand moved before you could react, sliding to the curve of your right waist with a deliberate slowness that sent a shiver racing up your spine. His fingers pressed lightly into your side, tracing the curve of your body as though memorizing the path. The motion was unhurried, grounding you in place while leaving no question of his intent. Then, he shifted closer, bracing one knee on the cushion beside you before the other followed suit in one fluid motion. The couch dipped under his weight, trapping you effortlessly. His hand found the headrest behind you, his presence closing in until all you could feel was him—the heat radiating from his body, the cadence of his breath, the way his fingers lingered just a second too long before trailing upward along your side.

“Then use me like you use the crest—” he murmured, his voice dipping to something quieter, almost reverent. His lips hovered inches from yours, his breath mingling with yours as his hand trailed up the curve of your spine, the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin, “—you know I’m completely at your mercy.”

“For someone who should be wise beyond his years, you don’t seem to learn your lesson,” you managed to say back, raising a hand to his chest in a feeble attempt to stop him.

The tension thickened, swallowing the space entirely as his right hand slid up the nape of your neck, warm and deliberate, sending a sharp jolt through your senses. Without warning, he tilted your head back sharply, making you look up at him in a strained way as he towered over you, his dark eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made the air around you feel heavier. "I never learn my lesson when it comes to you," he murmured as his face dipped closer. His voice was steady almost reverent—but the weight of control behind it was unmistakable.

His eyes moved slowly, tracing a path from your eyes to your lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing sharply, the motion betraying the thin thread of restraint he clung to. It was as though swallowing was the only thing keeping him tethered, holding back something far more dangerous than words. When his gaze returned to yours, it was darker, sharper, and filled with a hunger barely leashed, “—and I don’t want to. Ever.”

His words hung in the air for only a moment before his lips crashed against yours. The kiss was anything but gentle—it was a brutal collision of yearning, years of pent-up emotions, frustration, and something far darker that had simmered between you for far too long. The force of his kiss drove you backward, your head pressing into the unyielding headrest as he claimed your lips. The angle left you no choice but to tilt your head farther in a strained way, a soft gasp escaping you—one he seized without hesitation, deepening the kiss, consuming you entirely.

He tasted of power and desire, a heady combination that made your head spin. Then, with a sharp, sudden motion, he pulled you towards him with startling strength, pressing your bodies together with a searing intensity—making you feel every inch of him: the hard, unyielding planes of his chest, the muscular ridges of his abdomen, even the tension in his body, the coiled power, the barely leashed restraint. His hand, splayed over your back, was like a steel band around your waist, forcing your body to arch unnaturally backwards as his kiss pursued you, driving you farther back, lips growing more demanding and insistent by the second.

Your body gradually grew pliant under his domineering, possessive, hold–overwhelmed by the ferocity and sheer possessiveness of his every kiss and touch. There was literally no room to think, no space to resist—not that you wanted to. He overwhelmed every sense, each touch unraveling the walls you’d so carefully built. You told yourself it was only physical, that the fire consuming you was nothing but desire. But deep down, you knew better. You weren’t just losing control—you were giving it to him.

Your hands flew to his biceps, clinging for balance, your fingers digging into his tense muscles for support, feeling the power and strength that lay beneath. His muscles flexed under your touch, a silent warning of the raw, untamed masculinity that simmered just below his skin. As you struggled to draw in air, your lips parted unwittingly, and Sunghoon was quick to take advantage. Before you could even gasp for breath, his thumb pressed down on your chin, forcing your lips apart, his tongue already breaching past to plunder your mouth with a fierce and primal intensity that left you breathless.

Emboldened, Sunghoon's hand slithered up your back like a serpent claiming its prey, his large hand nearly covering the entire width of your back. Then with a fluid motion, without breaking the kiss at all, he lifted you with surprising ease, his arm muscles flexing in a display of raw power and dominance, as he manoeuvered you sideways before forcefully pushing you down onto the cushions with controlled strength—enough to knock the air out of your lungs but not enough to suffocate. Yet.

The couch groaned under the weight of your entangled bodies, sinking further as Sunghoon hovered over you, his powerful legs bracketing your hips, his muscular frame dwarfing yours. He pushed you deeper into the cushions, his body a solid, warm weight pressing you down, his lips never breaking contact with yours, his kiss relentless. He angled your head to his liking, his free hand exploring your body with a gentle dominance, fingers tracing the curve of your waist, down to the swell of your hips, a teasing caress that made your heart race. It was as if he was trying to etch every curve into memory.

Finally he pulled back, but only so slightly to grant you reprieve from his lips, for his weight still anchored him firmly against you as he straddled your hips, creating a tantalizing gap between your bodies. His gaze had completely shifted then—smouldering in a way that authoritatively pinned you in place without having to physically restrain you. "This is your chance," he said, his voice gravelly with restrained desire, as he tore the robe from his shoulders with an impatient motion, letting it fall in a forgotten heap on the floor. Bare from the waist up, his muscular frame seemed even more commanding, each ridge of muscle sharp and unyielding without the confines of clothing.

This wasn’t the first time you’d seen his bare torso, but tonight, his physique felt too imposing—as if every ridge of muscle was sculpted exactly to intimidate and conquer. The air around him seemed to hum with power while the intensity of his gaze stole words right from your throat. He continued, "you can resist, push me away, or even slap me, but once I begin, I won't be able to stop".

You swallowed thickly, the weight of his piercing gaze pressing down on you, making you feel small beneath him. It wasn’t just his physical presence—towering, commanding—that made your breath hitch. It was the intensity in his eyes, the way they seemed to strip you bare, leaving no room for pretense or armor. You hated that he could do this to you, hated more that you couldn’t look away. You couldn’t lie to yourself: he was indeed intimidating at the moment. But was it fear that made your pulse race, or something darker, something you weren’t ready to name?

You could push him away, the words lingered in your mind like an invitation. But the truth was, you’d had a thousand chances to stop him before things went too far. And yet, here you were, under him. Because as much as you hated his power over you, you had already decided to let it in.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, the loose cardigan slipping from your shoulders, exposing your bare skin to his ravenous gaze. Sunghoon’s eyes darkened like a brewing storm, his chest rising and falling in sync with your own ragged breaths. Your lips still tingled from the searing kiss, the memory of his touch a constant reminder that you hadn’t stopped him. That you hadn’t wanted to.

"I wouldn’t have let you get this far if I wasn’t sure, Sungh—" you panted out, but before you could finish, he surged forward, recapturing your lips with a fierce and almost punishing force. The kiss was a tempest, a chaotic collision of passion and need, pulling you under and leaving you breathless, weightless, and utterly undone.

As his mouth consumed yours, his hands moved with purpose and urgency, stripping away your cardigan with a deft touch. The cool air against your skin was a stark contrast to the heat of his body, making you acutely aware of every inch of him. His other hand slipped under your shirt, his fingers tracing the curvature of your spine with a deliberate languor that made your breath hitch. Your body arched into his touch, your restraint crumbling under the weight of his passion. He responded by pressing you deeper into the plush couch, his body a heavy, welcome weight, pinning you beneath him, a captive to his desire.

The soft cushions molded to your form, offering a sensual contrast to the hard planes of his chest against your soft skin. "Sunghoon—" you gasped, struggling for air and begging him to slow down, but he showed no mercy. Instead, his lips descended upon yours with even greater ferocity, turning the kiss hungrier, messier and wetter as his mouth and tongue move with a frenzied passion that bordered on brutal, as if he was trying to consume you whole and leave nothing but ashes in his wake—the ferocity of which was mirrored by the rhythm of his hips as he ground against you, a tantalizing preview of what was to come.

You knew you were treading uncharted territories—felt it in the way his hands gripped you, relentless and commanding with a possessiveness that bordered on primal—every movement daring you to stop him and knowing you wouldn’t. But then again, this had always been the dynamic between you two: a dance on the knife’s edge—a battle masquerading as a game, where neither truly won. Every step only pulled you deeper into the other's orbit, not for the comfort peace or safety, but for the chaos only the other could create.

But somewhere along the way, the chaos had shifted. It was no longer about fighting against each other, about destruction for the sake of it. Instead, it had become something far more dangerous: a harmony within the chaos.

You had learned to move in sync, not because you sought peace, but because you understood each other too well. The storm hadn’t disappeared—it never would—but now, you weathered it together. No one else could bear the weight of your detachment—the walls you built, the silence you carried—but him. And no one else could bear his chaos—the storm within him, the fire that never died—the way you did.

You weren’t drawn to each other just for the fire, but because you were each other’s constant. You were his unshakable anchor: the force that rooted him in a reality he couldn’t manipulate, teaching him that respect—not domination—was the foundation of something enduring and real. And he was your constant storm: a chaotic force that blows through your carefully constructed walls, showing you that stability isn't always the answer. You let him destabilize your certainty; he lets you unravel his control.

You two were a mess and yet you two never sought to change nor fix the other. Because within one another was the only place where everything made sense, even as the world burned around you. It wasn’t peace, nor was it safety—but it was home. And it was inevitable, as it always had been.

A/N: DONE. DUSTED. GONE. PHEW. Now I can pack peacefully for my flight tomorrow. This is farthest and the most committed I've ever been in writing so please, show me some appreciation by leaving feedback. This is possibly my last writing after all. Also! just wanted to shed some light into the ending: I've created two very complex, messy as hell, multi-layered, characters who went through hell and back with a knife ((or fangs)) on each other's throat for most of the time, so you can’t expect a Hallmark-esque ending with elopement, three kids, and a cozy life baking sourdough in a quaint cottage deep in the woods. After everything they’ve been through—betrayals, obsession, bloodshed, and vulnerability—it would feel unrealistic to wrap their relationship in a neat bow. There’s too much baggage to simply ignore, and I am honoring those journey, their personality and their arcs by opting for such an ending in the epilogue. One that is unapologetically and messily theirs.

#enhypen vampire #enhypen imagines #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon #enhypen scenarios #enhypen #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon vampire #kpop imagines #sunghoon scenarios #enhypen sunghoon scenarios #kpop scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen x female reader #enhypen vampire au

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fanbasetwo · 5 months ago

Note

shimkongz threesome I begg, ricky being your boyfriend and gyu who’s always liked you a little too much

✦ TWO FOR ONE ┊ RICKY & GYUVIN

001. PAIRING , boyfriend ! ricky × afab reader × boyfriend’s best friend ! gyuvin

002. SYNOPSIS , you didn't know how you ended up in this situation with your boyfriend and his best friend, maybe they planned it... maybe they didn't.. but you didn't mind it now.

003. WARNING(S) , NSFW, MDNI, unprotected sex, fingering, blowjob/face fucking, jealousy, nipple play, kissing a bit, licking precum, creampie, lmk if i missed anything.

004. WORD COUNT , 1.4k

The obscene squelch of Gyuvin's fingers pumping in and out of your sopping wet cunt echoes through the room, intermingling with your strangled whimpers. Your thighs quiver uncontrollably, clamping around his wrist like a vice as he relentlessly drives you towards the peak. The sheets under you are drenched with your juices, the pungent aroma of sex permeating the air.

Gyuvin’s smug grin widens, his fingers glistening with your arousal as he holds them up for Ricky to witness. “Fuck, she's absolutely drenched,” he taunts, his voice dripping with self-assurance. “Is she always this goddamn wet... even with you, Ricky?”

Ricky’s jaw tenses, his hands curling into tight fists, white-knuckled with the effort of restraining himself. The urge to wipe that infuriating smirk off Gyuvin's face, to make him pay for touching what's his, is almost overwhelming. Of course he doesn't want this. Of course you're not usually this wet. This ready, this desperate for anyone's touch but his. Not with him. Never with him.

So why now? Why with Gyuvin? The question gnaws at him, eroding his confidence. Is Gyuvin just more skilled, more experienced? Does he know something Ricky doesn't? The thought makes bile rise in his throat.

You lay there, confused and overwhelmed, your mind reeling. You didn't understand why Ricky brought Gyuvin here, into your bedroom. Into your bed. You clamp down hard on your lower lip, trying to muffle the moans that threaten to burst out of you as Gyuvin stretches you open with a second finger.

A solitary tear rolls down your cheek, and Ricky is instantly by your side. He tenderly brushes it away, leaning in close. “It's alright,” he murmurs, his breath scorching your ear. “You can let go. Feel it. React.”

Ricky's teeth graze your sensitive nipple, sending jolts of painful pleasure through your body. He suckles roughly, tugging and twisting the other peak between his fingers. It's a stark contrast to the gentle, worshipful way he usually touches you when it's just the two of you. Like he's trying to mark you, claim you, stake his territory in the face of Gyuvin's bold advances.

The dual sensations of Ricky's mouth on your breast and Gyuvin's fingers pumping in your dripping cunt are almost too much to bear. You arch off the bed, a long, keening moan escaping your lips. But Ricky and Gyuvin don't let up, working you from both ends with single—minded focus.

“Can I put it in?�� Gyuvin asks Ricky, his voice low and rough with lust. But Ricky just shrugs, deflecting the question.

“Don't ask me, ask her. It's her body.”

Gyuvin turns to you, his eyes dark with desire. You bite your lip, torn between the warring sensations of shame and arousal. You glance at Ricky uncertainly, but he's busy biting and sucking at your breasts, your fingers tangled in his hair. The sharp sting of pain mingles with the pleasure, making you gasp.

Hesitantly, you give a small nod, not trusting your voice. Gyuvin grins, wasting no time in shoving his boxers down and positioning himself at your entrance. You're so wet, so ready, that he slides in with barely any resistance, stretching you wide around his thick length.

“Fuck, this pussy is so sweet,” Gyuvin groans, his eyes rolling back in bliss. “Can't believe you were enjoying this for years, Ricky. What a lucky bastard.”

You whimper as he starts to move, each thrust dragging his cock along your sensitive walls. It's not that Gyuvin is necessarily bigger than Ricky, but he's in excellent shape, his muscles rippling as he pistons his hips.

Your mind reels as Gyuvin and Ricky work in tandem, their cocks stretching you to the limit from both ends. One thick shaft pistoning in and out of your dripping cunt, the other filling your mouth, muffling your desperate whimpers. It's almost too much to process, the overwhelming fullness, the obscene wet sounds of their coupling.

Ricky grips your hair, guiding your head as he thrusts shallowly between your lips. “That's it, doll,” he rasps, his voice strained with pleasure. “Such a good girl, taking both our cocks like a champ.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, even as tears leak from the corners of your eyes. The salty tang of pre—cum coats your tongue as you swirl it around Ricky's length, hollowing your cheeks to suck him deeper.

Gyuvin sets a relentless pace, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with each powerful thrust. The lewd squelch of your sopping wet pussy being pounded fills the room, intermingling with the wet gagging.

It's filthy, degrading, everything you never knew you craved. The taboo thrill of being used like this, sandwiched between two hard, pulsing cocks, sends you hurtling towards the edge embarrassingly quickly.

Your inner walls flutter and clench around Gyuvin's pistoning shaft as your orgasm crashes over you. You moan around Ricky's cock, the vibrations making him groan and tighten his grip on your hair.

“She came too soon...” Gyuvin chuckles breathlessly, his thrusts never faltering. “Guess we know who the real stud is, eh Ricky?”

Ricky's jaw clenches, his ego bruised by the implication. He bucks his hips, driving his cock deeper down your throat until you gag and splutter.

Ricky yanks his throbbing cock out of your mouth, his face twisted in a scowl as he roughly shoves Gyuvin away from you. “Told you not to come inside her,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. “Only I get to do that.”

Gyuvin holds his hands up in surrender, nodding quickly. “Understood, man. My bad.” He steps back, giving you both some space as he watches Ricky line up his cock and plunge into your dripping cunt.

You moan wantonly as your boyfriend's familiar length stretches you open, your tongue darting out to lap up the glistening strands of pre—cum that dribble down your chin. The taste is intoxicating, salty and musky, and you can't help but crave more.

Ricky grips your hips tightly, setting a punishing pace as he pounds into you. The wet, obscene slap of skin on skin fills the room, intermingling with your desperate whimpers and moans. “Better?” he pants, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

“Mmm... you always feel better than anyone...” you murmur breathlessly, and it's not even a lie. No matter how good Gyuvin felt stretching you open, nothing compares to the way Ricky fills you up, hitting all the right spots with each powerful thrust.

Ricky's eyes darken with lust at your words, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. “Yeah? You mean that, baby?” he rasps, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

Your answer is lost in a moan as he drives into you particularly deep, his pelvis grinding against your sensitive clit. The added stimulation sends you hurtling over the edge once again, your inner walls clamping down around Ricky's pistoning cock.

“Fuck, I'm gonna... gonna...” Ricky groans, his thrusts becoming erratic as his own climax approaches. With a final, guttural moan, he buries himself to the hilt inside you.

You watch through hooded eyes as Ricky's hips stutter and jerk, his cock pulsing inside your fluttering walls as he reaches his peak. Thick ropes of cum paint your insides, marking you as his, claiming you in the most primal way possible. The feeling of his hot seed filling you up sends aftershocks of pleasure rippling through your body, drawing out your own orgasm until you're both spent and panting.

As Ricky collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, you catch a glimpse of Gyuvin out of the corner of your eye. He's standing there, his hand wrapped around his own impressive length, stroking himself with a look of utter fascination on his face.

“Fuck, that was intense,” Ricky murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your sweaty brow. “You did so good, baby.” You can only nod weakly in response, too wrung out to form words. Your body feels like jelly, every muscle loose and pliant as the afterglow washes over you. Ricky's softening cock slips out of your abused hole with a wet squelch, a trickle of his cum following in its wake.

Gyuvin clears his throat awkwardly, drawing your attention. “Well, uh... guess that settles it. You definitely prefer Ricky's dick,” he says with a rueful chuckle, though there's no real bite to his words. He seems more impressed than anything.

Ricky grins smugly, rolling off of you to sprawl beside you on the bed. “Damn right she does. What did I tell you?” He reaches out to possessively squeeze your ass, making you squeak.

NOTE FROM SENA , this request is soooooo good! (i had to pause writing the other requests and take this one first because c'mon, i personally love this one a lot 🫶🏻)

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luvt0kki · 1 year ago

Text

003 | on this ship

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧ s.w.m masterlist ୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ taglist ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨୧

Nothing fucks with my baby Nothing can get a look in on my baby Nothing fucks with my baby Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing

🎧 : NFWMB - Hozier

previous | 003 | next

pairings: ot8 x reader ( yungi x reader)

w.c : 7.5k ( this one’s long)

cw: mature, lots of world building in this chapter I’m sorry,minors do not interact, nsfw, mentions of assassination, hinted violence, slow burn ( for Wooyoung), polyamory, smut ahead , dom!Mingi and Yunho for this chapter, threesome, bath/shower seggs, oral, size kink, eavesdropping, Mingi’s nickname for reader is baby, masturbation, Wooyoung blue balls again, Yeosang is very sweet here, some humor ahead, San is a cutie as always, hongjoong is unreadable as ever, Wooyoung thinks he’s connected the dots but he hasnt connected sht

REMINDER : my works do not represent the irl members in any way, this is purely a work of FICTION.

a/n : thank you so much for all the support! Here is part 3! There’s uhhhh smut…but then a lot of world building and interactions between the crew that will kind of show just how close they are with y/n. It’s a bit long 😭 I’m sorry but hehe chapter 4 is already in the works! Don’t forget to fangirl and scream in my askbox about what you think of this Chapter 💕

The warm water embraced you in much-needed comfort and it took away the fatigue you felt. Your mind was still hazy and you just stared at the rippling surface, the bubbles foaming up in white pearlescent colors. The smell of sweet watermelon and coconut filled your senses and you moaned when the fingers massaging your scalp found the pressure points that made you melt forward, leaning your torso onto your thighs.

“If you keep moaning like that, I’ll get hard again.” Mingi’s deep voice echoed in the bathroom, the big man sat across you, massaging your calves under the water while Yunho’s fingers continued to shampoo your hair and massage your scalp.

“Mingi, if we go again, I won’t be able to walk for two days,” you pouted, feeling the soapy foam of the shampoo run down your back.

“And that’s a bad thing, how?” He raised a groomed brow.

You looked at him. His pink hair was a deeper shade of the color and it was pointing in different directions while also flat on his head from being wet. He still looked so handsome and his eyes were doing that thing, the thing where they were soft and round, almost childlike. “I have things to do, Mingi. I can’t be bedridden all because of your libido.”

“Baby, it would help me if we fucked more. It was torture to be away from you for so long. The videos and pictures, as much as I love them, can’t compare to the real thing.”

“And how is fucking more helping your libido?”

“It might return to baseline. Normal Mingi libido.”

He had said that with such a serious face, it was kind of cute. Okay, it was cute. Dumb but cute.

“You said ‘might’. You’re not even sure!” You splashed some water onto his face, Yunho’s fingers now massaging your lower scalp close to the pressure points of your neck. “Oh.”

“Then we have to find out!” Mingi turned his head to the side, avoiding your cute yet innocent expression from the way you moaned and relaxed from Yunho’s touch.

“I can’t believe you referred to your sex drive as Mingi libido.” Yunho chuckled from behind you and finished shampooing and rinsing your hair. “You sore, sweetheart?” He kissed the nape of your neck.

“Not as much as I thought,” you leaned your head back, perfectly fitting on Yunho’s shoulder. “But if I go another two rounds with Mingi, I might not be able to walk tomorrow. And, if I go one more time with both of you, you two are the ones who are going to have to tell Hongjoong why I refuse to go to the upper deck.”

Yunho wrapped his arms around and kissed your temple.

Mingi relaxed and smiled softly at the sight. You were back home, where you belong. Where you were safest. Nothing and no one could hurt you here, and if anyone ever tried ( not that anyone could), they wouldn’t leave alive.

Yunho pressed his lips close to your ear to whisper. “So…we can go again?”

“Oh my god.”

“You did say you can go one more time with me and Yunho,” Mingi smirked, scooting closer.

It’s actually amazing how two of the tallest of your lovers could fit in the tub with you. Sure the bathtub was big but to fit the three of you? Jongho wouldn’t believe it if you told him.

“But we’ll have to bathe again…” you huffed, Yunho leaving hot kisses along your neck, sucking and nibbling at your sensitive spot. It was hard to say no. “Your bed will get really wet if we go back right now.” You whined, Yunho’s pretty slender fingers cupping your breasts and pinching at your nipples.

“We don’t have to go back to my room.” Mingi settled himself between your legs, hooking your right leg over his shoulder and kissing your inner thigh. “We can fuck here.”

“I thought we finally crossed off shower sex on your bucket list?” You threaded your fingers through Yunho’s hair as he continued to kiss and fondle you.

“Trust me, baby, I know,” Mingi replied, reaching for the nozzle to drain the tub.

“It’s on my bucket list.” Yunho nipped at your ear. “Mingi, put her other leg over the edge of the tub.”

Mingi does as he says and he bit his lip at the sight of your pussy again. His cock twitched when Yunho’s right hand left your breast to slide down to massage your clit.

“Yunho…” you sighed, hips twitching at the feeling, not sure if you were moving away from his touch or if you wanted more.

The lower the water got, the more you could see of Mingi. The bubbles and foam stuck to your skin and when the cool air began to hit your skin that had been submerged in warm water, you shivered.

“We’ll be gentle,” Yunho told you, biting your neck. “But usually you’ll always beg for us to go harder.” He teased, dipping two fingers into your entrance, not plunging further which made you whine as he spread your slick all over your folds.

“And I thought you were being so sweet shampooing my hair and all. You’re just as mean.” You bit back, your resolve crumbling when he finally slipped his fingers into your sore yet welcoming, velvety walls. “F-fuck. Okay.”

“Okay, what?” Mingi watched Yunho’s fingers slip in and out of your heat.

“We go another round but please let’s go to my room. The bathtub isn’t really the most comfortable place for the three of us.” You said through gritted teeth, squeezing Yunho’s thighs as he curled his fingers inside you. “And last time we fucked here, Mingi, you slipped and bruised your elbow.”

“Baby, that’s between us.” He groaned, keeping your legs from closing watching your cunt suck Yunho’s fingers in and soak them in your slick.

“I had a feeling it wasn’t because you elbowed someone.” Yunho tutted before focusing on the movements of his fingers, humming when he felt your walls squeeze him. “Even after taking Mingi and I, you’re still so tight.”

“Yuyu…” you whimpered the nickname you endearingly called him, tugging at his hair as you bucked your hips into his palm.

“Always so wet and ready for us, aren’t you?” He curled his fingers faster, his long digits reaching you deeper than your fingers could ever do. His palm made contact with your clit as he moved which made your nails dig into his thighs.

“She’s our pretty girl.” Mingi cooed, scooting closer and keeping your legs apart then lifted you a little so you were on his lap and squeezed between him and Yunho without disrupting his best friend’s actions. “Fuck, do you hear how wet you are?”

You could but you didn’t have time to be embarrassed about it when Mingi took one of your breasts into his hot mouth, swirling his tongue around your sensitive peak and sucking which earned him a very cute squeak from you.

“Yeah…we’re not going to make it to the bedroom, sweetheart,” Yunho growled in your ear, not slowing down the pumping of his fingers and knowing that you were gonna cum soon. They knew your body well and they pride themselves in being lovers that never disappointed you. “Once, I make you cum. Mingi’s gonna clean up the sweet mess you made…” His lower register made you squeeze around his fingers again, knowing full well the effect that tone had on you. “Then I’m gonna fuck your perfect cunt.”

You felt your lower abs tighten and your legs began to tense, shaking around Mingi’s torso who suckled and massaged your breasts. Your legs wanted to close so badly as your orgasm was approaching fast and it didn’t help that Yunho was whispering filthy things in your ear in that stupid perfect deep register of his.

“Yunho…please.” You didn’t even know what you were begging for. “Please.”

“This time, sweetheart…,” He paused a beat to kiss the spot beneath your ear before continuing. “I won’t cum on your pretty tits. I’ll fill you up nice and good like Mingi did.”

The idea had you cumming hard, your lips parting in a silent scream as your walls spasmed around his fingers.

“Good girl.” He cooed, kissing your temple as your body shook from the pleasure, slowing down his fingers and taking them out of your pulsing heat, only to to bring his digits to his mouth to have a taste of your sweet essence.

Without another word, Mingi halted his attack on your breasts and Yunho hooked his hands beneath your knees to open you up for the pink-haired man. He dipped low and you cried out when he started to kitten lick your sensitive pussy.

“Mingi! Too much! W-wait, please.” You whimpered, trying to fight against Yunho’s hold who kept your legs wide open so Mingi could lap up your juices.

“Tastes so good, baby.” He moaned against your core, the obscene slurping making heat explode in your cheeks. He was licking you up with that stupidly heavenly tongue of his like a man starved.

Mingi kissed your clit before wrapping his plump lips around the sensitive bud and making you squirm.

“Hear that? Mingi said you taste so good.” Yunho unlike Mingi right now, who was drunk on your pussy, was gentle and sweet again.The two of them balanced each other out in ways you could never really explain.

Knowing he won’t ever get enough of you, Mingi lapped your juices up one last time before sitting up and adoring the way you looked so fucked out. Yunho hadn’t even stuffed you with his cock yet and you were this buzzed out already.

“Here, baby.”

“Huh?” You blinked at him and before you could react, his lips were on yours and your surprised gasp let him slip his tongue inside.

“Mmhf.” Your head was spinning. The salty yet sweet taste of yourself on his tongue was sinfully erotic and his eagerness to kiss you made you kiss him back. Mingi sucked on your bottom lip before parting from you, his forehead resting on yours as you two caught your breaths.

“So?” Yunho slowly let your legs down, letting in fall limp around Mingi’s body. “How do you taste?”

“G-good.” You panted, releasing your death grip on Yunho’s thighs, the way your nails dug into them left crescent marks on his skin.

“Awe, is our pretty girl tired? Too tired to take my cock?”

“N-no.” Your body felt light and heavy at the same time but even after cumming around his fingers and Mingi overstimulating you. Your walls craved for more. It needed more than just his fingers. “Want you. Please.”

With Yunho, you never ever had to ask twice.

And…he was right earlier. The three of you couldn’t make it to the bedroom. So here you all were, way past the midnight hour with you sandwiched between the two men, their hips moving in tandem with one another as they stuffed you full. Your arms hung loosely over Yunho’s shoulders as Mingi’s big strong arms hoisted you up. Yunho was rutting up into your leaking cunt, his lengthy cock hitting your g-spot easily while Mingi fucked your other tight hole, the gunner praising you for taking his fat cock after he had prepped you for him.

There was nothing coherent in your head. All you could think about was how their cocks were rubbing your insides and how good they felt inside of you. It was so much.

“S-so full.” You moaned, head falling back onto Mingi’s shoulder as they bounced you on their cocks, the wet smacking sounds echoing in the shared shower room.

“You’re taking us so well, sweetheart.” Yunho praised, groaning when your walls began to grip him tighter and feeling Mingi’s thick cock fill you up on the other end. “I’m close. Fuck.”

“Y-yeah. Me too.” Mingi whined from behind you, his strong hips smacking against your ass. “Let Yunho fill you up, baby. I want you so full of his cum you’re leaking for days.”

Mingi’s words turned Yunho on even more, making him chase his release, his hips digging deeper into you.

“P-please, please, please.” That’s all you could say as your body buzzed and craved for them as if you could never be satiated. You felt like you were going insane with how good they felt inside of you.

Their thrusts in perfect rhythm with each other and how perfectly shaped Yunho’s cock was to hit your g-spot effortlessly, had you coming undone so easily. You came hard, mind going completely blank as your orgasm crashed over you. Every fiber of your being was electrified and when you came to it, you could feel that soothing familiar warmth filling your belly.

The two men panted as they finished inside your body that welcomed them. Months of pent-up sexual frustration finally being satiated and emptied inside of you.

“I missed you, sweetheart.” Yunho sighed into your neck, completely emptying every last drop of his release into you, marking you in his own way. “We all did. I’m sorry I couldn’t help myself.”

“I-it’s okay.” You murmured, limp in Mingi’s and Yunho’s hold. “Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry for leaving you all for so long.”

You winced when Mingi slowly slipped his cock from your ass, his cum leaking out your abused hole and when Yunho did the same, a mess of white fell onto the bathroom floor but Yunho was quick to carry you bridal style before your limbs could touch the floor.

“You two…I swear…” you murmured, letting the two take care of you just like clockwork. Like all the times before.

They were gentle as they cleaned you up, this time under the rain of water from one of the shower stalls. Mingi helped wrap you into a fuzzy soft grey towel before Yunho handed you over to him so he could dry himself before they retreated to your bedroom since Mingi’s bed was sheetless after the mess the three of you made.

“So…” Yunho was the first to speak when you three were snuggled under the comforter of your bed, the two of them on either side of you to keep you warm. “Is it back to baseline?”

You frowned, blinking sleepily at his handsome face while Mingi cuddled you from behind.

“Yeah…normal Mingi libido.”

Not having the energy to retort, you only shook your head and smiled. You were tired but you were happy and safe in their arms. Yunho’s hand on your hip lazily caressed you while Mingi had his arm draped over your waist and he pressed his naked torso on your back, preferring your body warmth over anything else to keep him warm and fall asleep to.

“Hongjoong is going to kill us,” Mingi muttered, his own eyes unable to remain open any longer.

“Kill us? No.” Yunho yawned, noticing how you had fallen asleep already with such a peaceful look on your pretty face. “But he’ll definitely give us an earful…or a sex ban.”

The docks at the outskirts of Xileon were quiet as dawn began to break. It was almost unbelievable that the planet with its infamous capital called the Night City actually experienced daylight. The parties have to end somehow and they go back to their day lives only to repeat and indulge in what they could only do in the dark, and in Night City, no night was ever the same.

And yet as the sun rose and began to light up the black sky, hints of dark navy and light blue faded in as the morning came and Wooyoung admired the view from the window of the dining kitchen area of the mid-deck. The scent of coffee that he had begun to brew right after he woke wafted through the air. It’s been a while since he’s seen a morning sky.

Xileon’s sky could not compare to Jupiter’s. It was prettier and glowed with the aurora that floated in the dark starry sky every night.

“You’re up early.” Seonghwa entered the kitchen, and his black silk robe that matched his loungewear flowed elegantly with his movements.

“Well, someone’s got to cook for you all.” Wooyoung shrugged moving from the dining area with the big window that looked out the sky to the kitchen. “I’m never letting Yunho in my kitchen again.”

“He made a delicious dinner that time.” Seonghwa chuckled, defending the tall mechanic and medic of their crew.

“But the mess he left?” Wooyoung shook his head, opening the fridge and grabbing the ingredients he might need to start breakfast. “It’s like a hurricane destroyed the place. Anyways, what does Y/N like to have for breakfast?”

Seonghwa paused pouring himself a cup of coffee momentarily, not expecting that question from Wooyoung this morning. His lips curved into a small pleased smile.

“She likes sweet things. French toast with berries if we have them or pancakes. She’s not a picky eater but those are just some of her favorites.”

Wooyoung bit his lip as he went through the cupboards and the pantry.

“So what are we having for breakfast?” Seonghwa asked, taking his seat at the dining table by the window, appreciating the view.

Tossing the bag of flour onto the kitchen counter, Wooyoung grabbed a bowl from the cupboards before going to the fridge and deciding that the frozen berries would make do.

“Pancakes.”

Seonghwa smiled at his response, not needing to say anything more and letting the former heir of a duke to his work while he sipped his coffee and enjoyed the calm morning and the view of the rising sun.

“I smell coffee.” The cheery voice announced the very familiar sunshine like presence.

“Just pour yourself a cup and don’t touch anything.” Wooyoung narrowed his eyes in jest at Yunho who walked in with a bounce in his step.

“Hey, I made a mess one time.”

“And it will be the last time.”

Yunho only smiled and got himself coffee before joining Seonghwa at the unset table. Wooyoung focused on cooking and as the sun rose higher and higher, the members were arriving in the dining area one by one.

Jongho entered with Hongjoong, the two talking about something in the magazine their youngest was holding. Probably another thing Jongho added to his wishlist for upgrades to the ship.

Yeosang helped set the table before joining the lighthearted conversation with the others.

Mingi was the last to enter groaning about how bright the sunlight was as he was slipping a black shirt over his torso.

“Y/N?” San asked, quietly taking note of the reddish love bites on Mingi’s neck and before the gunner’s shirt covered his body, they all got a glimpse of the long pink lines on his back.

“I didn’t want to wake her so I’ll get her breakfast and go back.” He went to the fridge and gulped down some milk from the carton.

“Use a glass, you heathen.” Wooyoung clicked his tongue and focused on serving up the pancakes on a big plate.

“Oh, you made pancakes. Nice timing. She loves those.” Mingi’s eyes stared at the fresh from the pan confectionary and took his and your plates to get a serving for you both. “Where’s the tray?” He rummaged through the kitchen, a vein popping on Wooyoung’s forehead at the clang and clatter of items in HIS kitchen.

“Get her some orange juice for the vitamin C,” Yunho told Mingi, opening the Xileon newspaper.

“Got it.” Mingi did as he said, getting a glass and pouring the orange juice in it.

Wooyoung was glad he and the pink haired man were not making eye contact, and that there was no weird vibe from Mingi’s end. He must admit, Mingi was a caring boyfriend if he was going out of his way to bring you breakfast in bed. Breakfast that he made.

“We’ll be departing Xileon by noon so if any of you need to get things, get it done before then,” Hongjoong informed the crew. “And get back to Yeosang so he can take note of the expenses.”

Mingi was focused as he crossed the dining area with the tray in his hands, steadying his hands.

“Relay the info to Y/N,” Hongjoong added.

“Mhm.” Mingi hummed in response.

“Oh, and Mingi…”

“Yeah?”

Hongjoong without looking at Mingi and opening the book he has been reading the past month, and sounding like a father scolding his son, spoke.

“Make sure to close the door next time.”

Mingi groaned as the rest of the crew cackled and laughed at his embarrassment, and he quickly vacated the room. He wasn’t going to let their teasing ruin his very good morning.

Wooyoung sat with the rest once the big plate of pancakes for everyone with the side of maple syrup and frozen berries were on the table, ready to be eaten. He sat in front of Yunho who had his ever-present soft puppy smile on his face, which was very deceiving.

“I finished up the repairs on Mingi’s gun last night by the way,” Yunho told him, dousing the pancakes on his plate with a lot of maple syrup. “It still is a mystery to me how whatever weapons he borrows or uses come back broken or in need of repairs.”

“He’s a big guy and a clumsy person,” Yeosang commented.

“But he never misses his shots though.” San added.

Wooyoung tuned them out as he thought about how so far, everything was okay. It wasn’t as bad as he thought it was going to be when he saw Mingi and maybe if he avoided you, his infatuation will fade away. It won’t be forever but just until he doesn’t think about burying his face in your pussy or having you bounce on his cock—

“You okay?” Yeosang asked when they doing the dishes together in the kitchen, the rest of the crew going off to do their individual schedules.

“Um, why wouldn’t I be?” Woo replied, washing and soaping the dishes while Yeosang rinsed and dried them.

“Should I point out the obvious?”

Yeosang was met with silence and he decided to go on.

“You’re kind of snappy but not too snappy. You’re nice enough because you just made pancakes out of the blue when I was sure you were going to make the usual eggs and bacon.” He was speaking his facts fast, something he got from Wooyoung who did the same when he wanted to prove his point. “Someone probably told you that Y/N likes sweet things which I’m guessing was Seonghwa since after you, he’s the second to wake up early among us. You made the pancakes for—“

“Ah! Okay, stop! I should’ve never taken you under my wing. It’s biting me back in the ass.” He scrubbed the plates with the sponge harder. “What’s your point anyways?”

Yeosang observed his best friend. His ears were slightly red although he had an annoyed pout on his face. He wondered how safe he needed to play it …

“You’re trying to impress her.”

“I made her one of her favorite dishes. I do that for you guys from time to time too…” Wooyoung trailed off, trying to stop himself from confiding with his childhood best friend. Which was hard. Back then, they told each other everything and when they reunited, it’s like nothing changed. “Maybe…I am trying to impress her. She is a member of our crew, is she not? I’m new.”

He opened up to Yeosang who smiled triumphantly to himself.

“Plus, I didn’t really make a good impression on her…when I danced with her, we got really…uh yeah…and when I didn’t know you guys knew her, I was whipping out bill after bill in that room.” Then the image of you tugging that purple lace panties to the side flashed before his eyes again.

“So you feel bad for playing into Y/N’s stripper cover? We played along because we couldn’t compromise her and risk putting her in danger. You’re not at any fault, Woo.“

He did have a point but speaking of faults, Wooyoung did have one and he didn’t want Yeosang to know that he saw you and Mingi then proceeded to jack off in his room to the sound of you both.

“I guess.”

“And if you’re a little attracted to her it’s fine,” Yeosang added which made his friend’s eyes widen.

“W-what?”

“We all are. She’s an attractive woman and when you get to know her, you’ll see that she’s lovely and sweet. She cares for all of us and she will care for you too, if you’ll let her.”

Yeosang hoped that that was enough to hint at the relationship they all had with you and that Wooyoung’s brain could put two and two together.

“Can I ask you something about her?” Wooyoung asked, handing Yeosang the last rinsed dish.

“Shoot.”

“San…” Wooyoung began, unsure of how to tread the subject. He wasn’t sure if he was analyzing it too much and what he assumed could be completely wrong. “San and Y/N knew each other before she joined the crew—

“If you want to ask about their past, I think it’s better you ask her or Sannie…or both. It’s their story to tell not mine.” Yeosang cut him off with a gentle smile, something that was natural to him despite having been a Prince.

“I was meaning to ask San about that but what I’m asking you is different.” He wiped his hands on his navy apron before taking it off and folding it neatly.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I just couldn’t help but notice the way San looks at her.” Actually all of them but it was San or the Captain’s gaze towards you that really stood out to him.

“Like she’s the universe?” Yeosang tilted his head to the side.

“Like…he’s in love with her.”

Yeosang thought of how to respond to that and his pause did not go unnoticed by Wooyoung so when his best friend finally reacted to what he said, he knew that his little speculation hit a spot.

“Ah…” Yeosang trailed off awkwardly, his eyes shifting away and anywhere from him.

He knew what that meant. Yeosang was never good at hiding secrets or denying things because after knowing him since they were children, he knew that little action his eyes did when he was meant to hide something.

“So he is in love with her?” Wooyoung pressed as they headed to the lounge together.

“They’re very close friends.” Yeosang rubbed the back of his neck. It really wasn’t his place to tell.

But his evading of questions only caused Wooyoung to create conspiracy theories that were far yet close to the truth.

“Oh, hey, guys!”

Speak of the devil.

San with his dark cropped hair and oversized black fluffy sweater jogged towards them. “You guys wanna come with me when I head out? I just came back from Y/N’s room and she asked me to get some stuff for her.”

“Uh…” Yeosang wasn’t sure if that was a good day but then he felt Wooyoung’s hands on his shoulders.

“Sure! The more the merrier right?” Wooyoung grinned at the former assassin.

But even though they did head out and got what each of them needed, Wooyoung did not get the answers he expected to get from San. He got nothing. Nada. Zilch. It didn’t help that Yeosang just smiled at him whenever he questioned San’s behavior which was cheerful. He had a swing in his step as they shopped and when he saw something, be it candy or apparel and accessories you might like, he’d turn to Yeosang and say ‘This would be pretty on Y/N’ or ‘Y/N likes this color’.

So as days passed and they safely departed Xileon, Wooyoung concluded that San was in love with you and that he didn’t act on it and disguised his love with the long friendship you guys had as merely platonic.

Wooyoung patted himself on the back for connecting the dots.

Every longing stare he gave you made him pity San. Even though you smiled back at him with such warmth, Wooyoung concluded with such surety that his one-sided love must hurt him deeply but he settled for being on the sidelines. To love you from afar while Mingi loved you and made you smile.

Yeah. Wooyoung was 100 percent sure this was the tension he was feeling from both of you. Now, next on his suspect list was Hongjoong.

“So pieces of the Cromer have been scattered across the galaxy, I’ve managed to find one but the others may have already fallen in the hands of other travelers or the Black Market,” you spoke from where you stood next to Yunho, tapping on the hologram of information and images you uploaded to the Destiny’s server. You swiped away the bracket of Jupiter, canceling it out from where the other pieces could be. “Luckily, I found three of the four possible locations.”

“Three?” Seonghwa’s jaw dropped a little, the shock in his eyes hardening to concern. It was too good to be true…and what did you go through to get all this info?

“That’s my girl.” Hongjoong grinned, the information you were briefing them with made him swell with pride.

Wooyoung glanced at Mingi for his reaction when the Captain called you his…but the gunner was completely focused on your presentation.

“It’s kinda scary how you were able to get all this.” Jongho shook his head quickly, taken aback by your ability to gather information that would’ve taken them years to find.

“Find the right lead and it’ll lead you to more.” You responded with a small smile.

“No hope for the fourth location?” Hongjoong urged you to continue.

“That’s what’s tricky…since the entire civilization of that location is artificial and they don’t orbit a system…”

“Don’t tell me—,” Jongho’s cute round eyes widened further.

“It’s in KWANGYA, most likely N-City.” You enlarged the holographic image of the artificial never stagnant artificial planet. “It’s hard to pinpoint where they might be right now in the galaxy…So I think it’s best we focus on the other locations.”

They were left speechless. This was crucial information to their Captain but while they were shocked and processing what you gathered, Hongjoong’s grin never left his face. It was rather unsettling that expression of his.

“Ondion, Gevora and…Sector 1.” You listed them down and Yeosang moved from where he stood to stand next to you so that he could toggle the map and begin calculations to the next destination.

“What would it be doing in Sector 1?” San frowned deeply.

“I don’t know…but I’m not looking forward to going there.” You fiddled with your fingers behind you, hiding the extent of your distaste for the planet.

“You won’t have to come off the ship when we get there’,” Hongjoong interjected. “I know it may be hard for you but you can stay here with San while the rest of us look for the missing piece:”

“N-no I’ll be fine. Do you really think I’ll let you all on that planet without me? It’s dangerous. There’s a reason it doesn’t have a proper name.”

“What’s Sector 1?” Wooyoung asked. He’s never ever heard of that place but it clearly hit a nerve with you.

“One of the layers of hell.” You uttered with such venom, your eyes void of the warmth and gentleness they had when you looked at any of them.

“We’ll be going to Gevora first,” Yeosang’s voice brought you out of that dark growing cloud before it churned into a hurricane. The former Prince discreetly without alarming anyone stepped closer to you. His gentle fingers brushed over your knuckles. Your hands had clutched into fists behind your back with nails digging into your palms. “I’ll set the coordinates by your command, Captain.” He slipped his hand in yours and all Wooyoung could see was how that empty and dark look in your eyes disappeared.

“You may do so, Yeo.” He raised his hand to gesture his permission.

Hongjoong got up from where he had been sitting and glanced at you. “We’ll be heading to Gevora. Since our hyperdrive is still currently being fixed, the journey will take approximately…” he looked at Yeosang who had a neutral expression.

“A month.” The crew's navigator replied to their Captain.

“Make any needed preparations for then. Rest up and when we’re close, we’ll have another meeting before we land.”

Hongjoong left the bridge and disappeared into his office. San who was next to Wooyoung made movement to go to you, only for Mingi to reach you first.

“You okay, baby?” He kissed your temple.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine.” With Yeosang’s comforting touch and Mingi’s concern, it was hard to entertain any horrible thought about Sector 1. “I just really hate that place.”

San remained by Wooyoung’s side.

“As much as I’d love to stay here and coddle our pretty princess,” Jongho went up to you and embraced you briefly. “I have to fix the hyperdrive system.”

“Awe, don’t work too hard, Jongho. I’ll come see you to make sure you take a break.” You told the mechanic. “Anyways, don’t worry too much about me. I’m going to go to my room and start up on that book Hwa gave me.”

Mingi followed right after you as everyone dispersed, off to do their own agendas.

“You okay?” Wooyoung asked San on their way to the gym.

“That’s out of the blue. Yeah, I’m okay.” He smiled softly. “Was just worried about Y/N. That’s all.”

“Sector 1 seemed to be a touchy topic.”

“Well because it is,” San confirmed and Wooyoung was suddenly in full alert. “It’s where we were trained.”

From what San had opened up to him about his past, Wooyoung felt his stomach drop. “You sure you’re okay?”

San smiled warmly at him. “Why wouldn’t I be? In fact, I’m really happy. Y/N’s back where she belongs. Safe with us. I couldn’t ask for more.”

Wooyoung bit his tongue and fought the urge to say ‘You sure about that?’. Successfully he did so.

“Anyways for today’s, sparring session, I’m going to train you to improve your hand-to-hand combat.” San changed the subject quickly. “You’re good with a sword and not too bad with a gun but your unarmed combat needs improvement.”

“Ugh…you’re going to count how many times I fall on my ass again, aren’t you?” Wooyoung groaned.

“Of course I am.” San chuckled, his eyes smiling with mischief. “If you think hand-to-hand combat with me is difficult, try Y/N. Before you can even pull a punch, you’ll be kissing the ground.”

“What are you doing up?” Your voice broke the silence in the dark kitchen, the only light coming from the open refrigerator.

Wooyoung swore in his head as he felt his heart race.

“I- I could ask you the same.” He took a deep breath before turning around, feeling his throat dry at the sight of your bare legs. You were wearing a black thin sweater that was far too big on you and he definitely was sure that he saw San wear it…Do you borrow their clothing as a comfort thing? Would you want any of his? He needed to do laundry.

He averted his eyes immediately…his throat drying up as he felt guilt shiver up his spine after what he had done again tonight. After what you and Mingi did again.

“Water…and maybe a midnight snack.” You replied, walking over to the fridge, bare feet on the cold floor as you stood next to Wooyoung. “You?”

“Midnight snack.”

“Ooo, so what does Jung Wooyoung have for a midnight snack?” Your tone was friendly and inviting, hoping that it’d calm whatever reason it was that made Wooyoung seemed nervous.

“Well, I made a batch of strawberries dipped in chocolate when we left Xileon. It’s probably set by now.” He opened the chiller to see the tray of dessert he made, feeling proud to see how pretty the dusted pink sugar glitter settled with the chocolate.

He took the tray out and set it on the kitchen counter, your eyes on the pretty strawberries lined up in organized rows.

“Here have one,” he pinched the leaf part and held it your way for you to take.

Not thinking much of it, you took a couple of steps forward and took a bite, unaware of how your lips brushing his fingertips made Wooyoung gulp.

“Mhm.” You closed your eyes, moaning at the sweet burst of the strawberry with chocolate in your mouth. For you, it may have been a brief moment but for Wooyoung, it was as if time slowed down and your lips wrapped around the lucky strawberry made him think of how pretty your lips would be wrapped around his—

“Oh my god, that’s delicious.” You squeaked happily, doing this little cute shimmy at how much you liked the dessert he made.

“U-Uh yeah. Thanks.” He swallowed the lump in his throat and played it cool.

“So how does a former noble know how to make such treats?” You wondered out loud, flashing him a smile that made his heart flutter. “Let alone cook. Yeosang told me you’re the one making the meals around here now.” You picked up another piece of strawberry. “I really loved the pancakes on my first day back, by the way.”

“Oh, I’m glad you loved them. And to answer your question, I hung around the kitchens a lot as a kid.”

“And your father let you do that?” You tilted your head, leaning against the counter.

“No, I did what any good kid being told not to do something do.” He picked up a strawberry and took a bite, missing the way your eyes flashed to lips and watched his Adam’s apple bob as he ate. “I didn’t listen.”

There was a beat of silence as you admired his handsome features. He was really handsome. Was being handsome part of the requirements of being in this crew or something?

“I heard you trained with Sannie today,” you looked him up and down, noticing the light bruise on his arm. Your brows knitted as your lips pursed at the sight and reached out to brush your fingers on the skin lightly. “You’re not that badly bruised. Which means you must be better than the average trained fighter.”

Wooyoung felt a rush of electricity wash over him with your light touch and your movement made the wide boat neckline of the sweater slip your left shoulder, showcasing the dark ruby marks along your neck and collarbone.

They were fresh…

“I heard you’re quite the master combatant.” He couldn’t help but take note that you’re braless. There was no sign of a strap on your delicate shoulders.

“I wouldn’t say master,” you hopped onto the counter, the edge of the sweater rising higher over your pretty thighs. “Did Sannie say that I was?”

“He hinted it.”

“Awe, how sweet of him.” You giggled, taking another piece of strawberry and holding it out to him. “Don’t make me eat by myself.”

Wooyoung matched your playful smile and went to pick up the strawberry but you pulled it back and away from him. There was a glint in your eye and in his view, you were glowing. The same magnetic feeling he felt when he saw you in the club returned and he inched closer to you til his hands rested on the countertop on either side of you. He could get a whiff of your natural sweet scent that had a hint of masculine musk which made sense since you and Mingi go at it like fucking bunnies and he heard you two every time. Turns out the room across his was yours. When he made that discovery he didn’t know if he was happy about it or hated it.

Now that he was closer, your legs parted to make room for him. One more step and he was in between them.

He kept his gaze locked on your face, trying to read your next move as well as trying to take in every detail of your features. He was so lost in the moment, he forgot the fact you were with Mingi. Was it so bad that he wanted you too?

You brought the strawberry to his lips, brushing the chocolate-dipped tip on them, tracing their plump curve. He looked into your eyes for permission, not sure why he did so. But your delighted nod at the gesture made him forget about that thought as his pretty lips parted and he took a bite.

“Good boy.” You purred, the same way you did when you two were grinding your hips on one another the night you two danced.

The way the praise fell from your lips sent heat straight to his cock and when he took his bite and met your eyes again, there was this thinning string inside of him that was ready to snap. Taking away the stem and leaving the strawberry in his mouth, he swallowed as he watched you toss the stem into the bin and as if his predicament couldn’t get worse, you licked the excess strawberry juice and melted chocolate off your fingers.

Wooyoung swore and cursed silently, feeling his cock twitch at the sight. He already jacked off in his room…and yet he was getting turned on by this simple interaction. Well, it wasn’t simple. In fact, it was rather intimate. What was going on? Were you flirting with him?

“So-,” he cleared his throat, breaking away from your gaze, and looked down, only to be met with the sight of naked soft, pillowy thighs and the hem of the flimsy sweater just a couple of inches away from showing him what he had been thinking about since he’s seen it in the private dance room. “You and Mingi?”

“What about me and Mingi?” You tilted your head, trying to meet his gaze again because you thought his eyes were pretty. Where was the arrogant man you had danced with?

“How long have you been together?”

“Almost two years.” You hopped off the counter and went to grab a small bowl, deciding to get some for San who was waiting in your bedroom… long enough.

“That’s a long time.”

You chuckled, moving over to the fridge and completely aware of Wooyoung’s eyes on you. Why was he being so jumpy around you? Or reserved? This really wasn’t the flirt you danced with and you had thought bringing him closer with your little playful strawberry trick would tease that out of him.

Smirking to yourself as you opened the fridge door, you bent over and pretended to look through the drinks selection. Wooyoung sucked in a breath as he saw the hem of the sweater rise dangerously high and he almost thought you weren’t wearing underwear til he saw black lace hugging your plump ass and covering your mound. It would be so easily to slip the flimsy fabric aside to see what he missed.

“Well, anyways, I should be heading back.” You grabbed a bottle of water and stood up straight, closing the fridge door. “It was nice talking to you, Woo.” You smiled at him, getting close to him on your way out. “Thank you for the strawberries.” Knowing exactly what you were doing, you leaned close to give him a small peck on the cheek before saying goodnight and heading back to your room.

Wooyoung watched you leave, heart racing and mind all jumbled up with thoughts of you, with what happened. When he saw you bent over like that, he immediately thought of how pretty you’d look bent over the island counter as he eats your pussy out.

Snapping out of it, he goes to put away the tray of strawberries but hisses when he felt the fabric of his sweats shuffle against his groin. Wooyoung groaned as he glanced down. He was bulging against his briefs.

On his way back to his room, he contemplated on fucking his fist again or letting his hard-on die down on its own. He stopped by your door and listened for any sounds of you and Mingi. A couple of seconds passed and he heard nothing. Okay, so maybe he won’t jack off…but the image of your ass in those black lace panties was so fresh that maybe another round won’t hurt.

“Dude, what are you doing?” Jongho’s voice made him jump away from your door, the youngest just turned the hall and saw him just standing there.

“Oh, I was just heading to bed.”

Jongho narrowed his eyes at Wooyoung. “Okay…weird. I’m too tired to question you right now. So just…okay. Goodnight.” The mechanic yawned, trudging towards his bedroom. He didn’t want to say much so that Wooyoung’s current assumptions would change, he didn’t want to lose his bet with San, Seonghwa, and Hongjoong.

He wondered just how long Wooyoung would agonise over his infatuation with you and how long it’d take for him to find out the relationship you had with all of them.

Oh, and most excitingly, how and what would happen when he breaks?

-- feel free to scream in my askbox about the fic I will gladly famgor; with you <3

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR OTHERWISE REPURPOSE ANY OF MY WORK HERE. I DO NOT NOR WILL ALLOW IT.

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#tokki;sway with me #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez au #ateez fic #ateez smut #hongjoong x reader #mingi smut #mingi x reader #yunho x reader #yunho smut #san x reader #yeosang x reader #jongho x reader #wooyoung x reader #seonghwa x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines

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aventurineswife · 14 days ago

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❤ The Language of Flowers | 003

❤ | Your options shall be: Sunday, Aventurine, Boothill, Jing Yuan, Moze, Dan Heng, Blade, Dr Ratio

❤ | Flower & it's definition : Aster flower | A symbol of patience, daintiness, good-luck, and a talisman of love. When given as a gift it means admiration and can also mean elegance.

The Language of Flowers

Tags: Sunday x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Jing Yuan x Reader, Romance, Emotional Depth, Fluff, Light Angst, Self-Reflection, Inner Conflict, Healing, Vulnerability, Symbolism, Slow Burn, Complex Emotions.

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma, Introspective and reflective moments, Potential for mild angst or emotional struggles, Light conflict or misunderstandings, Mentions of past manipulation (for Aventurine), Mentions of loss and survivor’s guilt (for Aventurine and Sunday).

A/N: this was way better in my head 😔🙏

The serene silence of the evening stretched across the quiet expanse of the Astral Express. You leaned against the window, watching the stars twinkle in the void of space, your thoughts drifting like the cosmic winds. Suddenly, a soft rustle behind you interrupted your reverie. Turning, you saw Sunday walking toward you, his ethereal presence illuminated by the soft glow of his halo.

"You're still up?" you asked, surprised by his late-night appearance.

He nodded gently, his eyes reflecting the distant stars. "I often find peace in the quiet hours," he replied, his voice as soft as the breeze.

He stopped beside you, his wings fluttering slightly. His gaze lingered on the flowers in your hand—Aster flowers, delicate and vibrant. The petals gleamed under the starlight, their meaning profound: patience, elegance, and love. You had found them during a stop at a nearby planet and thought of him immediately. Without a word, you handed him the bouquet.

He took them carefully, his gaze softening. "Aster," he murmured. "A symbol of patience, daintiness, and love."

You smiled, your heart warm at the thought. "Yes, they remind me of you."

Sunday's expression faltered for a moment, and then, almost imperceptibly, he let out a breath. "Admiration," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "You give me too much credit."

But despite his words, there was a faint flush on his cheeks, the golden halo above his head flickering with warmth. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of your hair behind your ear, his touch gentle, almost reverent.

"Perhaps it's not too much," you said, your voice quieter now, your words a soft echo of the meaning behind the flowers. "You have a way of making everyone around you feel at peace. I admire that."

Sunday's wings fluttered once more, and his usual stoic demeanor softened. He held the flowers close, as if seeking comfort in their delicate embrace. The language of the flowers, so often unspoken, seemed to resonate deeply within him. A moment of silence passed between you, filled with shared understanding, before he spoke again, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken feelings.

"Thank you," he whispered, "for seeing me... as I truly am."

You smiled, the stars above flickering like a quiet promise.

The night was thick with tension as you made your way through the dimly lit corridors of the IPC’s headquarters, your heart racing with a mixture of anticipation and dread. You had finally tracked down Aventurine, the infamous strategist—and it had been quite the task. Rumors of his unpredictable behavior had followed him like a shadow, and you couldn't shake the feeling that your encounter tonight was going to be no different.

As you entered the lavishly decorated study, you found him standing near the window, gazing out at the bustling city below, his usual flamboyant aura restrained tonight. The peacock feather in his hat swayed slightly with the soft breeze coming through the open window. His eyes flicked toward you with a calculated glimmer, but his smile—always so charming—seemed to carry something else tonight.

You stepped forward, holding out the small bouquet of Aster flowers you had picked for him. He raised an eyebrow, his gaze narrowing slightly.

"For me?" he asked, his voice smooth and dripping with curiosity.

"Yes," you said, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach. "Aster flowers... for good luck, for elegance, and for admiration. They carry a message."

Aventurine's lips curled into a smile that never quite reached his eyes. "Admiration?" he mused, taking the flowers with a swift motion. "Such a bold gesture... And yet, there's more to it, isn't there?"

His fingers toyed with the flowers as if trying to decipher their meaning, his gaze flickering back to you. "I’ve learned that the language of flowers is far more intricate than it appears. But I wonder, do you give them out of affection—or out of strategy?" His voice was laced with both amusement and intrigue.

You met his gaze, unflinching. "Perhaps it’s a bit of both. But does it matter? The meaning is still the same."

Aventurine studied you, his eyes gleaming with the slightest hint of respect, mixed with something far more complex. His fingers tightened around the Aster flowers, and for the briefest of moments, you saw the cracks in his facade—a vulnerability he quickly masked with a smirk.

"You've given me a gift," he said, the words slowly coming to him as if he were savoring the moment. "It would be unwise to underestimate the power of that gesture. Let’s see what fortune awaits."

His smile deepened as he turned his back to you, slipping the flowers into his coat’s inner pocket. "Luck is always on my side," he said, almost as if testing the words. "But perhaps, for once, it will be a gamble worth taking."

You couldn’t help but wonder if this was one gamble that could change everything.

The quiet elegance of the Xianzhou Luofu was something you had grown accustomed to, but tonight, the stars outside felt closer than ever. The streets were bathed in the soft glow of lanterns, casting a golden hue over everything. You wandered through the streets, your thoughts drifting, when you found yourself in the courtyard where Jing Yuan often came to unwind.

There, under the soft light of the moon, you saw him standing, his long hair fluttering gently in the night breeze, his eyes distant, as though lost in thought. Despite the tranquility of the moment, you could sense the weight of his thoughts.

“General Jing Yuan,” you called softly, not wanting to startle him.

He turned, his calm demeanor never faltering, his gaze settling on you. "Ah, it's you," he said, his tone lazy but kind. "What brings you here at this hour?"

You approached him slowly, holding out a small bouquet of Aster flowers, their delicate petals glowing faintly in the moonlight. "I thought you might like these," you said, offering them with a small smile.

He raised an eyebrow, his lips curling slightly. "Aster flowers," he mused, accepting them. "Patience, daintiness, admiration... and good luck. How fitting."

His eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, they seemed to soften, as if the weight of his position could be set aside just for this. "You're very thoughtful," he said, his voice warmer now, though still composed. "The Aster flower is said to be a talisman of love. Do you truly believe in such things?"

You nodded, your gaze never leaving his. "I believe that flowers speak louder than words sometimes. And these... they speak of admiration."

Jing Yuan chuckled softly, the sound like a distant melody, as if time itself slowed in his presence. "Admiration, huh?" he repeated, turning the flowers over in his hands. "I have my fair share of admirers, but few give such thoughtful gifts." He paused, his eyes studying you with quiet intensity. "I suppose it’s a rare thing, then. Thank you."

For a brief moment, he was no longer the calm, strategic leader. He was simply a man receiving something precious, something that spoke to a side of him he rarely allowed others to see. His fingers brushed against your hand, the touch light but lingering.

"The meaning of the Aster flower is clear," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "But perhaps the greatest gift is the trust you’ve placed in me."

You smiled softly, feeling the weight of the moment. "I trust you, Jing Yuan. And I admire you."

He nodded slowly, his gaze softening as he took in your words. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, and you knew that the bond between you had deepened. And in the language of flowers, a new chapter had begun.

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shikaizer · 8 days ago

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SACRED SINS 003

SERIES DETAILS

"fuck- its so hot in here. are you sure your sleeping here?" you asked and she hesistated for a moment occuring her thoughts.

the guest room was stifling, the little fan in the corner did nothing but stir the heat around, and paige had already kicked off her blanket twice, she lay on her back in the dark, sweat lining her neck, one arm thrown over her eyes in frustration.

it wasnt just the temperature, it was everything,it was the way you had looked at her during dinner, mischievous and knowing, the way you leaned a little too close when you guided her upstairs, the offer to crash in your room had sounded casual, innocent, but something in your eyes had said otherwise, and now, the offer echoed in her ears again.

"no" she muttured and sat up in bed, heart thudding after a few seconds of hesitation, she threw the thin sheet aside and padded barefoot down the hallway following you, your room was cooler, quieter.

paige let out a breathy laugh, feeling the chill in her skin, you patted the bed without a word, scooting over, she climbed in slowly, careful not to disturb you too much, though her heart was pounding, the mattress dipped beneath her weight, and almost instantly, she felt your warmth beside her, a part of her thought you'd roll away.

minutes passed, then an hour, and paige was still wide awake, you’d fallen back into sleep quickly, your breathing slow and steady, but your body had slowly, instinctively gravitated toward hers, now your leg rested lightly over hers, your hand had somehow found its way near her stomach, and the side of your thigh pressed into her hip.

every breath you took moved against her skin,every shift, every small sigh, made her feel like she was coming undone, she clenched her fists beneath the blanket, trying to focus on anything else, but she couldn't, her mind was already too far gone, tangled in the memory of how you smiled at her earlier, how your dress clung to your waist while you hung clothes outside, how your skin had glowed in the golden light.

and now that same skin was pressed against her, it wasnt fair, her hand inched across the sheets, slowly, hesitantly, until her fingers brushed your bare arm, the touch sent a jolt through her, you were so soft, so warm.

she let her hand linger, brushing gently up toward your shoulder, you didnt stir, not even a twitch, paige swallowed hard.

her hand moved again, slower this time, fingertips tracing the curve of your back beneath the loose hem of your shirt, the smooth dip of your waist, the small space between fabric and skin where her thoughts had wandered all day.

and still, you slept, or maybe… you didnt, she leaned in, letting her breath fan softly against your hair, her heart was thundering in her chest now, guilt and desire crashing together.

“i shouldnt” she whispered to no one, or maybe to herself, but her hand didnt move away, she stayed there, caught in the in between friendship and something far more dangerous, something neither of you were ready to name.

and in the stillness, the only thing louder than her thoughts was the sound of your heartbeat, steady and close.

paige stayed frozen for a long moment, her fingertips still resting on the curve of your waist beneath the hem of your shirt, she didnt know what had pushed her this far, maybe it was the quiet of your room, or the heat between your bodies, or maybe it was the months, years, of pretending she didnt think about you like this.

but now, with you sleeping beside her, breath soft against her neck, and your body barely clothed under the moonlight, it felt impossible to hold herself back.

her hand moved again, gently, reverently, following the lines of your lower back, the softness of your skin made her shiver, she brushed along your side, her fingertips memorizing every subtle dip and curve.

and still... you didnt move, you didnt stop her, she exhaled slowly, feeling her heartbeat in her throat, this wasn’t like her, not the Paige everyone knew, not the disciplined athlete.

she shifted just slightly, enough to let her legs tangle with yours beneath the sheet, your skin against hers made her breath catch.

then your hand, your sleeping hand, curled softly around her wrist, her heart stopped, you whispered, your voice hazy and quiet “paige..”

she froze “i can feel you” you murmured, not moving, not pulling away, her body tensed“i..i didnt mean—” she started, barely above a whisper.

“you dont have to stop” you interrupted, gently your voice was warm, thick with sleep, and something else “i dont want you to.”

she let out a shaky breath, her forehead brushing against yours "i dont know what im doing” she whispered, fingers still pressed to your waist.

“neither do I” you breathed back “but I dont want you to go.” the silence that followed wasnt awkward, it was thick with everything unsaid, with years of repression, with hidden glances, with prayers that now felt more like confessions.

and as she moved in closer, her hand splayed gently against your back, you wrapped your arm around her waist, her touch was featherlight, cautious, but your body welcomed her like it had been waiting.

the moment stretched, slow and sweet and painfully charged, there was no rush, no need for words, just quiet touches and the weight of years between you both finally beginning to melt.

the room was still, the only sound was the low hum of the fan and the faint crickets outside your window, paiges hand remained on your back, her thumb moving in slow, nervous circles against your bare skin, it felt like every touch carried a lifetime of things she had never dared to say aloud.

you tilted your head slightly, enough to feel her breath graze your lips “is this really okay?” she whispered, like the moment might break if she spoke too loud.

your fingers gently laced with hers beneath the sheets, grounding her “i've been waiting for you to stop pretending its not” you whispered back, eyes never leaving hers.

her gaze dropped to your mouth, hesitant, trembling, and then.. she leaned in.

the first kiss was barely a breath, her lips brushed yours so gently it felt like a question, she pulled back almost immediately, wide eyed and unsure.

but you followed her, closed the space again, this time slower, deeper, your hand cupped her cheek, and she melted into it, the second kiss lingered, soft and warm, carrying years of tension between the two of you, unspoken and unresolved until now.

you kissed her like you’d dreamed about it, like it was a secret you were finally allowed to keep, paige let out a quiet, shaky breath as your foreheads touched again, her hands trembled where they rested on your waist, she never felt so exposed, so seen, so wanted.

“i was so scared to want this” she whispered into the dark "i know” you said, brushing your nose against hers “me too.” her lips found yours again, slower, more sure this time. Her hand tangled in your shirt, holding you close as the kiss deepened into something that hummed beneath your skin, it was fast, and overwhelming.

and it was just the beginning.

#lesbian #wlw #wlw smut #wbb #uconn wbb #paige bueckers #paige bueckers fanfic #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #paige bueckers smut

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darksturnz · 3 months ago

Text

TULIPS AND FORGET-ME-NOTS

BAMBI.ᐟMADISON + STAR.ᐟREADER + ARTIST.ᐟCHRIS

MASTERLIST

IN WHICH…BAMBI.ᐟMADISON struggles with the tension between faith and identity, STAR.ᐟREADER yearns for freedom, and ARTIST.ᐟCHRIS wrestles with his own demons, the three form a fragile bond in a town that seems determined to break them. Pine View is more than a backdrop; it’s a reflection of their struggles and dreams, a place where survival means finding hope in even the smallest cracks of light.

✮ ☆ ✮ ☆ ✮

MOODBOARDS:

⊹₊⟡⋆ ARTIST.ᐟCHRIS . . . here

⊹₊⟡⋆ STAR.ᐟREADER . . . here

⊹₊⟡⋆ BAMBI.ᐟMADISON . . . here

✮ ☆ ✮ ☆ ✮

CHAPTERS:

⊹₊⟡⋆ ARTIST.ᐟCHRIS BACKGROUND . . . here

⊹₊⟡⋆ first meeting . . . here

001⊹₊⟡⋆ COMFORT IN THE CHAOS . . . here

002⊹₊⟡⋆ NIGHTS LIKE THIS . . . here

003⊹₊⟡⋆ BETWEEN THE CRACKS . . . here

004⊹₊⟡⋆ A LITTLE LIGHT . . . here

005⊹₊⟡⋆ ANCHOR . . . here

006⊹₊⟡⋆ THE MOON, THE SUN, THE STARS . . . here

007⊹₊⟡⋆ HANDS THAT SHAKE . . . here

008⊹₊⟡⋆ DRAWINGS AND APOLOGIES. . . here

009⊹₊⟡⋆ ECHOES OF LIGHT . . . here

010⊹₊⟡⋆ IN YOUR ORBIT . . . here

011⊹₊⟡⋆ BACKWOODS . . . here

012⊹₊⟡⋆ HELPING HANDS…? . . . here

013⊹₊⟡⋆ BREATHING . . . here

014⊹₊⟡⋆ AFTER THE STORM . . . here

✮ ☆ ✮ ☆ ✮

BLURBS:

⊹₊⟡⋆ SKETCHES & SPACE . . . here

⊹₊⟡⋆ ARTIST.ᐟCHRIS STICKS UP FOR STAR.ᐟREADER . . . here

⊹₊⟡⋆ ARTIST.ᐟCHRIS IS…SCARED OF CATS? . . . here

⊹₊⟡⋆TASTE . . . here

✮ ☆ ✮ ☆ ✮

INSTAGRAM POST:

⊹₊⟡⋆ STAR.ᐟREADER X ARTIST.ᐟCHRIS . . . 1 2 3 4 5

⊹₊⟡⋆ STAR.ᐟREADER CURRENT INSTA FEED . . . here

EXTRAS:

⊹₊⟡⋆ WHAT ARE THEY DOING RIGHT NOW? . . . 1

⊹₊⟡⋆ STAR.ᐟREADER x BAMBI.ᐟMADISON BACKGROUND . . . here

⊹₊⟡⋆ ANGEL.ᐟREADER X BAMBI.ᐟMADISON . . . here

✮ ☆ ✮ ☆ ✮

AUTHORS NOTE: this will constantly be updated !!

TAG LIST: go to this post

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ffleurist · 3 months ago

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🕸️ 003 . echoes! of the game

synopsis you got lost finding the bathroom, only to find an injured man. after the match ends, isagi & the others realises you’re missing.

written portion below. wc 301

stepping through the entrance, the roar of the crowd grew louder every step you took. the vibrant green grass stretched out before you, perfectly manicured like a painter’s fresh strokes on a canvas. the blue lock stadium lights casted a golden hue across the pitch. the goals stood at each end and could faintly hear the sounds of the ball from the warm-up on the field below. the sound of whistles from the referee echoed the stadium, signaling that the match was moments away from beginning. but first! bathroom break!

meanwhile, the conversations unfolding in the waiting room, while the crowd remained oblivious to the rumor circulating behind the scenes that their Bastard München’s emperor, Michael Kaiser, was missing.

the tension in the locker room was palpable as players hurried to finish their final warm-ups. it was almost time, and the atmosphere was electric yet, kaiser was nowhere to be found.

"anyone check the bathroom?" yukimiya asked, scanning the room. "he’s probably in there."

“no, he's not in there. i called him twice already and straight to voicemail."

"seriously, where is he? we're about to step out there!" noel noa visibly frustrated with kaiser’s ethics. "if he doesn’t show up in the next five minutes, we’ll have to sub someone in."

with every passing second, the cheers from the stadium grew louder, like a reminder that the game was about to start and yet still no signs of Michael Kaiser.

series MASTERLIST

notes from lily ❦⋆ : this wasn’t supposed to be the plot actually! surprise! i had to reconstruct everything, but i had to made it work 😭. # lock’d in fr 😍🤞🏼 guess what happened lol

update: i reread this chapter and honestly idk what i was doing FML forgive me it was 4am(again)… i promise it’ll make sense soon

TAGLIST

@mixolya @x3nafix @96jnie @tamashithe2nd @cookielovesbook-akie @yuiearyi @noomimi @stargirljas @jhsluvv @etojlee @livelaughloveshidou

comments & reblogs appreciated!

#blue lock smau #michael kaiser smau #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader smau #michael kaiser x reader #spiderman michael kaiser #saeslove #lily writes! ೀ⋆｡˚#ffleurist

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goldsainz · 3 months ago

Text

# CS55 — MORNING CHAOS !

MASTERLIST !

REQUEST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ mornings are never calm with a toddler in the house.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ pure fluff.

003. NOTE !

✯ i am heavily pushing my boy dad carlos agenda. requests are open so if you’d like to read more things like this with carlos or other drivers, now’s the time to request!

word count : 515

The early sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the cozy bedroom. Carlos stirred first, instinctively reaching out for you. His arm found your waist, pulling you closer as he nuzzled into your neck, his morning stubble brushing your skin.

“Buenos días, mi amor,” he murmured, his voice husky with sleep.

Before you could respond, a high-pitched giggle echoed from the baby monitor on the nightstand.

“¡Papá! ¡Mamá!” Your son whined, “Wake up!”

Carlos groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Tomás is up,” he muttered, though the smile tugging at his lips betrayed his feigned annoyance.

“Your son,” you teased, rolling out of bed.

Carlos smirked, throwing the covers off. “He only becomes my son when he’s waking us up at seven on a Sunday?”

The two of you made your way to Tomás’ room, the sight inside melting both of your hearts. Your two-year-old was standing in his crib, his brown curls tousled and his cheeks rosy. He grinned at the sight of you and Carlos, bouncing on his tiny feet.

“Mamá, Papá, look!” he exclaimed, holding up a stuffed lion. “Leo woke up, too!”

Carlos chuckled, scooping Tomás into his arms. “Leo woke up, huh? Did he have sweet dreams?”

Tomás nodded enthusiastically, wrapping his small arms around Carlos’ neck. “¡Sí! He dreamed about racing cars like Papá!”

You laughed as Carlos’ chest puffed up in pride. “Ah, a future champion, just like me.”

“Let’s see if this future champion wants breakfast,” you said, ruffling Tomás’ curls.

In the kitchen, the usual morning chaos began. Carlos balanced Tomás on his hip while trying to pour coffee, resulting in a near spill. “Careful, Carlos!" you called, setting out Tomás a plate of scrambled eggs and fruit.

“Daddy’s silly,” Tomás giggled, pointing at the coffee dripping down the counter.

Carlos grinned, wiping the mess with a towel. “Silly, huh? Says the boy who tried to feed Leo cereal yesterday.”

Tomás pouted. “Leo was hungry!”

You stifled a laugh, exchanging a look with Carlos. His brown eyes sparkled with amusement, the corners crinkling as he smiled at you.

After breakfast, Carlos helped Tomás with his shoes while you cleaned up. The sight of them together—Carlos kneeling on the floor, patiently tying Tomás’s tiny sneakers while the toddler chattered away—filled your heart with warmth.

“Papá, can we go vroom-vroom outside?” Tomás asked, mimicking the sound of a race car.

Carlos grinned, lifting Tomás into the air. “Of course, campeón. Let’s race in the garden.”

As they headed to the backyard, you grabbed your coffee and leaned against the doorframe, watching them play. Carlos chased Tomás around the garden, both of them laughing uncontrollably.

In moments like these, life felt perfect. Your little family, full of love and joy, was everything you’d ever dreamed of.

“Te amo,” Carlos called out, catching your eye as he swung Tomás into his arms.

“I love you too,” you replied softly, your heart full.

And as Tomás’ laughter rang out, you couldn’t help but think that mornings like these were the best kind of chaos.

#*ੈ✩༄ my works !#carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz fanfiction #carlos sainz one shot #carlos sainz blurb #carlos sainz imagine #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic

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babyjinsu · 13 days ago

Text

something borrowed - sungchan jung & eunseok song

love was never yours in the first place—only borrowed between them.

pairing; sungchan x reader x eunseok ||wc; 5.6k

⟡ cautions nsfw, jealous sungchan, featuring sunwoo tbz!! doggy style, fingering, lowkey rough sex, nipple play/breast worship, sungchan is needy, possessiveness, squiring, creampie, the smut is 8 pages long haha.... sungchan is so in love with you

𐙚 001 003

💭 hii aahh finally the second part!! <3 sorry for taking so long to write this :<< i hope you guys will enjoy it ;( this chapter has not much of eunseok appearance so do wait for the last part tyy!

tuesday is a day as ordinary as any other.

the cafeteria hums with the noises of plates clattering, voices overlapping, bursts of laughter echoing across the walls and the floors. it’s tuesday and it’s bright outside—the sun spills through the cafeteria windows, catching the edges of gaeul’s hair, the side of rei’s face, and glinting off half-empty soda cans and plates of food.

you’re here, present in body if not in mind, poking absentmindedly at the pork cutlet on your plate. the conversations shifts like background noise—from freeriders and assignments, to upcoming hangout plans, then—

“sooo… what’s up with you and sungchan?”

the words slide into the air so carelessly that it takes you a few moments to realise they’re directed to you.

you blink, chopsticks stilling over your food. “what?”

rei grins and wiggles her eyebrows, propping her chin on her palm. “you and sungchan. what’s goin’ on?”

gaeul chimes in, nudging you with her elbow before she too, props her cheek on her palm. “right? sungchan’s so fine. and you guys have like, a history.”

you let out a small, awkward laugh. you and jinsu?

your mind replays back to that night after you practically passed out drunk—the desperate and heated i love you’s—the admitting that you love him more than his brother, his big palm around your—

“we don’t have a history,” you reply, shaking your head and placing your chopsticks down. “we’re childhood friends. it’s always been that way.” you hum, smiling as you mirror their gestures—propping your chin on the back of your hands.

“yeah, childhood friends,” rei drags out, obviously teasing. “but now you’re both grown! and he doesn’t look at you like a childhood friend anymore.”

your stomach twists—is it obvious? the feeling sinks deep into your gut and spreads like an ink.

they don’t know. nobody knows. eunseok doesn’t know. they don’t know about what happened that night you spent tangled under his sheets—the vulnerable confession, the way sungchan’s hands search for yours when you try to pull away, the way neither of you acknowledge the mess you’ve made simply because you were drunk, and sungchan was desirous.

they don’t know that it wasn’t just sungchan—but his brother too. if sungchan is obsessed, then eunseok is something worse. they don’t know that the two brothers are wound so tightly around you. you don’t know where you begin, and where they end.

you force a laugh, lifting your soda can to your lips to mask the way your breath has grown a bit heavier. “you guys are silly,” you shake your head. “he’s like… a brother to me…” you murmur, hoping they’d just drop the subject.

brother? jinsu isn't a brother to you—what are you saying?

but even as the conversation shifts, even as they move on to talking about someone else—gaeul’s ex boyfriend—the feeling lingers, it burrows deep beneath your skin.

what am i doing?

when was the last time you looked at either of them—sungchan and eunseok—without seeing the weight of the consequences that you have done? when was the last time you went to eunseok’s apartment without him tossing you on his bed, or bending you over his study table? with sungchan—it just happened once—but what next? what will happen next between you and your bestfriend?

when was the last time they said your name without possession dripping from their tongues?

when was the last time everything was ever normal?

you lightly push your food around your plate, appetite long gone.

——

the arcade was loud with high-pitched beeping from machines, the sounds of rubber soles squeaking against linoleum floors, with teenagers laughing out loud watching their friends dancing on the pump it up machine.

it all blended together into the background beneath the rhythmic thump of sungchan’s basketball hitting the backboard.

he’s been at it for a while, fingers quick, arms moving with practiced ease as he shot one after another. the machine’s screen blinked with bright red numbers, his score climbing higher, but you weren’t paying attention.

you were sitting on the side on the worn bench, phone in your hands, scrolling and chatting with your friends. the blue light reflected in your eyes, your mind half-tuned to whatever your friends were talking about, half-lost in the warmth that still lingered in your body—phantom touches of someone else's.

you shifted slightly, thighs pressing together. it’s been a week since it happened. a week since eunseok taught you… physical biology and something more in life.

“hey,”

sungchan’s voice cuts through your thoughts. you glanced up briefly, catching the flicker of concentration on his face as he aimed for another shot.

he wasn’t looking at you.

“did you know youngjae from class 3 likes you?”

you blinked, thumbs pausing mid-typing.

“hm?” you hummed—not processing what he had just said.

sungchan didn’t look at you, but you saw the way his eyes darted to the side, stealing quick glances in between throws. “youngjae,” he repeated. “likes you.”

the words rolled around your mind, slow and unfamiliar. youngjae? you tilted your head, considering which one was he again—but your heartbeat didn’t change, your stomach didn’t flutter.

“oh,” you said finally, before dropping your eyes back to your phone.

sungchan missed his next shot—his eyebrows furrowed slightly. the ball bounced off the rim and rolled down the chute with an unsatisfying clatter. he glanced at you again. “do you like him?”

the question landed heavier, your heart skipped a beat. you opened your mouth but no words came out.

do you like him?

your thoughts flickered back, unbidden, to that day in eunseok’s bedroom. the quiet and curious hush of the air, the heat of his palms against your bare skin, the way your innocent heart drummed against your ribcage as he slowly took off your uniform—piece by piece—the way he moaned and murmured your name in a different tone than before, the way you let him became your first.

the way you were his’ too.

you closed your legs tighter, swallowing the lump in your throat. you could taste him at the back of your throat.

do you like him?

what was that? was it love? was it like?

your lips parted to say something, and you knew sungchan was watching—waiting, shoulders tensed, his hands gripping the basketball.

he thought you were hesitating because of youngjae.

he thought you’re considering it—liking youngjae back.

he shouldn’t have asked—shouldn't have let you know that youngjae liked you.

but your head was somewhere else—your head played back the memory of your legs tangled eunseok’s sheet, the aftercare, the— “do you know why it feels good now?” as he demonstrated how, the way he looked above you, sweating and panting and chanting your name like it’s the only word he knew.

you didn’t know how to name it. but that’s sungchan’s brother.

finally, after a long pause, you exhaled. “...no.”

sungchan’s grip loosened, he let out a sigh of relief—one he was holding back.

the machine beeped. the game timed out. his score flashed in red on the screen—it didn’t beat the previous high score.

sungchan just stood there, watching you in relief.

you didn’t like youngjae. but this wasn’t about him.

——

your phone flickers, the low battery icon pops up—dull red against the dark screen. then slowly, it powers on.

the old phone feels small in your hands now—lighter than you remember, almost like a toy. the plastic casing is chipped at the corners, the once-bright pink now dulled with age. you don’t even remember keeping it, burying it at the back of your drawer beneath old notebooks and photo albums.

you stumble upon it in the midst of a cleaning session. just picking up clutters of your room to distract yourself from the last time you talked to them.

eunseok is busy—finals are eating up his time, keeping him occupied and away—which is beneficial to you, since you don’t feel like talking to him at the moment.

jinsu, though… you swallow, shaking your head as you swipe up to fill in the passcode.

you still haven’t talked to him since that night—how many days has it been?—since his mouth never left yours, since his hands groped everywhere he could. it’s awkward now.

you don’t know how to act around him. if you should ever act like nothing happened, or acknowledge him. should you even talk to him at all?

your eyes flicker back to the phone. you don’t even remember what’s on it. it’s been decades.

the home screen is still a picture of your cat before she passed away after your 17th birthday. your fingers move on their own, opening the photo gallery.

there aren’t as many pictures as you remembered—blurry shots of your middle school friends, pictures of flowers and low-resolution selfies taken in bad lighting. and then you see it—

an album eunseok had specifically made for the three of you.

the first photo is from the day you first got the phone—eunseok had taken it, you remember that now. he was 14, you and sungchan were 13. the three of you were sitting on the porch outside of your house. you looked so weird and ugly—pimples and braces, shorter hair, leaning against sungchan’s shoulder. he too, looked awkward. wasn’t smiling, caught mid-blink. eunseok was behind the camera, but you swore you could hear his laughter just by looking at the picture.

you swipe—and continue to swipe—more days where things were simple.

you see yourself at 14, posing with sungchan and eunseok’s new adopted puppy.

you see sungchan at 15, dressed in his football uniform with the ball on his hips.

that’s before it went wrong. before the lines were crossed.

you see eunseok at 17, in one of the selfies where he had his arm draped lazily around your shoulder. then you at 16, in another picture eunseok took of you in his bedroom—studying.

then you got a new phone, and the photos stopped.

your younger self would be so disappointed if she knew where the three of you ended now. she would be so disappointed knowing you let them both pull you in.

a lump forms in your throat, you don’t want to lose them.

but you also don’t want to keep going like this.

your fingers tighten around the phone. this has to stop before all of you fall into something deeper—something that will only come with regret.

——

sungchan finally texted you after two weeks—on a wednesday while you’re out with rei.

jinsu: what are you doing?

“yn pleaseee? i don’t want to be alone—he said he’ll bring a friend!”

rei tugs on your sleeve, dragging out the last word like a whine. you barely glance up from your laptop, scrolling through the last of your notes. “mmhm,” you hum noncommittally.

“oh my god, please yn,” she lets out another whine, slumping against the chair beside you, fingers still pinching around your sleeve. “it’s just a meetup! one time only! you don’t even have to stay long. just accompany me so it’s not awkward…”

you glance at rei, lips pursing slightly. “i donno…” you murmur.

you don’t date. you don’t remember the last time you even went on one… because there was never a need to go out with a guy besides sungchan and eunseok before.

but maybe because of that too, you should say yes.

rei head-butts your arm like a cat, tugging on your sleeves. “...fine,” you say, shutting your laptop with a sigh. this can be good for you too. she lets out a soft gasp, covering her mouth with the tips of her fingers, bouncing excitedly in her seat. “oh my god—really? thank you, thank you!”

she continues to give you the details—two guys from engineering, really hot (although you find that pretty impossible—compared to sungchan and eunseok?), tall… bla bla bla… meeting them up at a cafe near the university at 4 p.m., and so on…

your mind isn’t really paying attention to what she’s saying. it circles around whether what you’re doing is the correct move—can this truly revert it? what if they act recklessly? what if eunseok—or sungchan? but you’re moving on, aren’t you?

yeah, you’re moving on. that’s what this is.

——

jinsu: why aren’t you replying to me?

rei waves you over as you step into the cafe, her eyes twinkling with excitement and something playful. “oh, there she is!” she says as she slides over to make a space for you. the two guys—are already seated. one sits infront of rei, and the other—for you.

you settle into your chair, fingers smoothing over your dress as you offer the table a polite smile. he’s not bad-looking at all. his eyes are warm, and his voice is nice when he introduces himself—sunwoo.

then on, the conversation starts off simple—what you study and why you take the subjects, how you know rei, the little things—but it flows. you laugh genuinely and he leans in a little when you speak like he’s actually interested in what you have to say.

from one date, it turns into two, then three.

and by the time you know it, eunseok and sungchan aren’t the only ones occupying your mind. you thought it wasn’t possible. for the longest time, you’ve spent so long wrapped up in them that you forgot what it felt like to have something normal.

“when can i see you again, yn?” sunwoo asks as he drops you off infront of your apartment complex. you turn around, humming as you hold the strap of your sling bag. “i’ll text you,” you offer him a shy smile.

sunwoo grins, rocking back on his heels. “you always say that.”

you let out a soft chuckle, shifting your weight from one foot to another. “and do i never not text?” his grin widens, “fair enough.” sunwoo takes a step closer, hesitating for just a second. his fingers twitch at his sides. his hand reaches up to tuck a strand behind your ear—like he’s testing the waters.

you let him be. leaning in, you place a chaste kiss on his cheek. “goodnight, sunwoo,” you murmur against his skin, pulling back. blush creeps over your cheeks. he nods, rubbing the back of his neck as he steps backwards. “don’t forget to text me.” he playfully reminds you as you step back towards the entrance.

chuckling, you nod and roll your eyes. sunwoo bids you one last goodbye and waves before turning on his heel, heading towards his car. the sound of engine starting hums in the background as you watch his taillights disappear down the road.

you exhale, pressing your palms against your heated cheeks. that was so cheesy. so… simple. so refreshing. you liked it a lot. the kiss didn’t feel forceful—it just felt light. youthful.

you are just about to enter the entrance when— “who was that?”

your breath catches in your throat. turning around, your palms still warm from where they had cupped your own cheeks.

there, sungchan stands a few feet away, his face half-lit by the glow of the streetlamp. his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie. his expression is unreadable, but his eyes—they pin you in place.

“who was that?” he repeats, nudging his head slightly.

momentarily, you just stare. you hadn’t seen him in days nor did you ever reply back to his texts. yet here he is, standing outside your apartment like he never left your orbit. did he tell you he was coming?

“a friend,” your throat feels so dry that you have to force your voice to stay even. “i was out with friends.”

sungchan only tilts his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. then, he lets out a mocking scoff. “that didn’t look like just a friend.” his tongue darts out, wetting his lips as he takes a step closer to you. you don’t move. “did you have fun?”

the weight of his gaze dragging over your features makes your stomach tighten. did he see you kissing sunwoo on the cheek?

your fingers twitch around the strap of your bag. “...yeah,” you nod, breathless.

“then… are you replacing me?” he asks. his voice is still soft, like a crack in his composure as he towers before you, looking down. you don’t answer because you don’t know how to. because it’s easier to stay silent than to explain why you’re doing this.

upon your silence, sungchan’s jaw clenches slightly. “does he—” he exhales, shaking his head slightly. “does he know how you like to be touched?” his voice drops lower, almost taunting.

your breath hitches as you immediately look up to sungchan. “what—?”

“does he know,” he cuts you off, closing the gap between the two of you. he removes his hands from his pockets to cup your jaw, thumbs caressing the apple of your cheeks where it had blushed earlier. “does he know that you love me, yn?”

sungchan’s so close you can feel the warmth radiating from him. your heart slams against your ribs but you still don’t move. it’s just sungchan,

it’s jinsu—

——

“oh—oh my god, jinsu,” you fist his hoodie as he slams you against the wall—shocking through your spine, sinking his teeth down into the juncture of your neck. his hands—curious and frantic, explores every inch of your body. hiking and tugging on your top.

“mine,” he mutters against your skin, so hot and possessive before sucking on your skin to leave a mark. your gasp chokes into a whimper, hands twisting into his hoodie as it is the only thing keeping you upright.

“sungchan—”

he groans, deep from his chest. “don’t call me that,” his voice rough with pent-up frustration. his fingers slip under the hem of your top, dragging it up, up, as he bunches the fabric between his fingers. he exposes more of your soft skin to the air, bringing your cloth up to your mouth.

sungchan doesn’t need to tell you anything—you know it yourself what to do. he presses the soft fabric against your lips. it’s humiliating and so, so filthy.

but it’s jinsu,

your lips part to catch the cloth between your teeth, letting out a small whimper of his nickname that only you call him. He watches you with his gaze heavy-lidded with satisfaction. a smirk curling at the corner of his lips.

the state of you—you’re not even fully naked yet, biting the fabric down, exposing your clothed chest, your rounded tits sit so obediently behind your bra, cleavage hollow and inviting. sungchan has his knee between your thighs, rubbing it against your clothed heat.

he wastes no time pulling your bra up so that they rest above your tits, nipples hardened slightly from the cool air—sungchan immediately leans down to bury his face in your cleavage, licking at the soft swell, his hands resting on your hips.

you’re too turned on to think about anything, so you pull him closer by his hoodie that he moves from between your cleavage, to wrap his lips around your perky nipple. you let out a soft muffled moan at the feeling of his warm tongue on your sensitive bud. he rolls his tongue—tugs and nibbles on it that you’re sure they’re getting puffier by each passing second. he doesn’t leave the other one unattended as he brings his hand up to fondle and play with it.

he glances up to you—you’re not just biting down the fabric, you’re biting down your bottom lip as well. you feel like your legs could give you out at any moment if it isn’t for his knee supporting you. sungchan pulls away, flickering down on the way your bare chest rises and falls—nipples red and puffy—one has his wet bite mark while the other is being pinched and tugged between his fingers.

“why are you shaking, yn?” he asks, voice low and teasing.

you swallow, shaking your head. you don’t let go of your lip trapped between your teeth. sungchan leans in, his sharp nose brushes against the column of your throat as his other hand slips further down, your skirt hiking up on his wrist.

he slips his hand underneath your baby blue panties, fingers gliding up between your slicked folds. letting out a hum against your skin at the warmth that greets him, he begins to move his fingers up and down, your wetness coating his fingers.

you let out a soft moan as he slips his middle inside of you—like he’s letting you know he’s going to fuck you with his fingers first—then his ring finger. he thrusts both fingers in and out of you, his palm cupping your wet pussy. “you’re so soft, pretty,” he moans between the crook of your neck.

you nod for no reason—not that you’re agreeing with sungchan but… you just nod. because that’s the only thing you can do now besides holding onto his hoodie for dear life. sungchan continues to pump his fingers inside, curling them just right where it hits your sweet, spongy spot.

“jinsu,” you whimper, finally letting go of the shirt. your velvety walls clench around his digits. your breathing rags and uneven, moving your arms up to wrap it around his neck, pulling him close out of pleasure.

you’re chasing the intensity of your orgasm—nuzzling your face onto his shoulder.

“wrap your legs around me.” he murmurs, using his free hand to grip under your thigh, his fingers pressing deep into the soft flesh, urging you to comply. his voice is more like a command than a request.

your body reacts accordingly, legs wrapping around his waist, ankles locking behind him. sungchan presses you against the wall, using his weight to keep you caged in while he fingers you, now even deeper with the nonexistent gap between the two of you.

his lips find yours, swallowing your moans with a hungry, desperate kiss after weeks of no contact. you practically left him high and dry. you whimper against his lips, kissing him back. sungchan’s fingers make a scissoring motion inside you, stretching your walls for something bigger and thicker later—something real.

your head jerks up at the invasion, squealing as you let out a rush of liquid over his hand. so much that it drips down on your wooden floor.

sungchan moans into your mouth, glancing down at your trembling thighs and twitching pussy, “‘m not done yet,” he whispers, his fingers slipping out of you, leaving you half-satisfied (wanting more) and achingly empty. his hands find your back to carry you towards your bed, your body is pliant in his hands.

the sheets are cool against your skin as he gently lays you down, his body following. his knees are pressed into the mattress, framing your hips as he settles above you. your thighs hook over his lap, draped over his legs.

sungchan runs his hands over the soft skin of your bare legs—to think that sunwoo was just having this view only fuels his jealousy. you watch as he lifts off his hoodie, exposing his fine, toned, pretty body for your eyes truly.

oh how you want him so bad—your bestfriend of 11 years—it is as if the whole plan to revert back to how things used to be are thrown back at the back of your mind.

you watch as sungchan leans down to take your top off for you, then unbuckles your bra, tossing it away somewhere in the room. his hands travel down from your chest, down to the curve of your waist, and around the waistband of your skirt—pulling it down along your panties.

now you’re laying naked and vulnerable under him.

his breath hitches at the sight better than any painting—and sungchan is sure that heaven couldn’t craft anything more divine than this.

his eyes drink you in, his hands ghost over your skin, fondling your pretty tits and brushing his thumbs over your perky nipples. “you’re…” he trails off, lips parting like he wants to say something but the words get lost somewhere between his thoughts and his throat.

your fingers reach out before you can stop them, cupping the curve of his jaw as you bring him down to your level. sungchan is quiet, but you can hear everything. “jinsu,” you breathe out, pecking his lips. “you’re the first person i let into my home.” you continue, blood creeps over your cheeks.

sungchan frowns—he pulls away to cover his mouth with the back of his hand. you thought you’ve done something wrong when crinkles appear between his brows. sungchan lets out an exhale, dragging his palm down his face. his ears burn red.

before you can ask him why—his hands are on you again, flipping you over. a startled gasp leaves your lips as you land on your stomach, your cheeks pressed against the sheets. his palms press against your waist to hold you in place.

it feels more like a way for him to regain control that he’s lost.

“yn—shut up,” he mutters, but his voice wavers. sungchan tries to mask the flustered tremor in his touch. the visual of him being shy—makes your stomach flutter even more. you hear him unzipping his pants and you want to look back so bad.

sungchan prompts you to shift your position, pulling you towards him and settling you on all fours, your ass end provocatively arched upward. “do you say that to him too?” he breathes out, approaching from behind. you let out a soft whimper, hiding your face in your sheets as you shake your head. his fingers splayed on your asscheek—kneading your soft skin.

“no… no, only you.” you confess, face burning with embarrassment from your words and what he’s doing. sungchan’s adam’s apple bobs, his breath heavy as he spits on your entrance, watching as it trails and runs between your folds, using his index finger to smear and mix it together with your juice.

“...good,” he breathes out as he holds the base of his thick cock—precum leaking from the tip—rubbing the head between your folds before slowly pushing it inside. sungchan watches as he stretches your opening around the size of his erection, your fingers gripping and crumpling the sheets beneath.

you wince, feeling every inch as he pauses halfway to let you adjust. sungchan pushes deeper and by the time he knows it, he’s already full—inches deep buried in your little cunt. “fuuuckkk,” he groans, hands resting on your hips like a guide for him. your cunt’s so warm and inviting.

“you’re so…” you breathe out as he starts to move—thrusting in a slow, but steady rhythm. not too rough nor too slow, just firm, deep strokes that he’s able to feel your inner walls gripping him like a vice. sungchan squeezes your ass, rocking his hips back and forth until his pelvis hits your skin.

he tugs on his bottom lip as he leans down, his chest pressed against your back, the warmth of his skin sinking into yours with his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. “oh, fuck, my love,” he moans, nibbling and licking on your ear.

you swallow, sheets absorbing your lewd moanings. you feel the slight tremble in him, his heartbeat pounds through his ribs against you. his fingers press into your hips to steady himself and guide you back and forth onto his throbbing erection.

sungchan exhales, maneuvering one hand to cup your tit, fingers pinching and tugging your sensitive nipple. with fervor, he rolls his hips in short thrusts, slamming and abusing against your cervix. “you make me crazy,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

he moves from your ear, to nuzzle his face into your hair, sniffing the scent of your shampoo mixed with sweat after going out with sunwoo—

sunwoo,

his eyes narrow at the thought of that male, moving his other hand on your hips around your form to your sensitive clit. his fingers rub and dance over your clitoris—sending a jolt and you let out a soft gasp at his sudden roughness. “jinsu—!” you moan, shutting your eyes tightly as he picks up pace in thrusting you with a certain intensity like he’s fucking the breath out of you.

sunwoo’s name sits bitterly on his tongue. he squeezes your tit harder, your flesh in between the gaps of his fingers. “did he fuck you like this, yn?” he mutters, his voice low and rough.

he knows the answer, but he wants to hear it from you.

you shake your head, lips parting to reply but words get stuck in your throat. pinching your clitoris, sungchan clamps down on your shoulder, digging his nails into your flesh. “answer me—fuck, answer me.”

you moan his name—telling him to slow down a little as with every thrust, he only makes it harder for you to speak proper sentences. swallowing the lump in your throat, you flutter your eyes open. “n…no… not at all.” you breathe out.

it has only ever been him and his brother who has you in these positions.

the sound of his heavy balls slapping against your puffy pussy reverberates throughout the room that for a second, you’re worried your neighbour might knock. “i fucking love you so much,” sungchan moans, leaving angry lovebites along your shoulder.

heat coils in your stomach, deep and pulsing, and spreading through your limbs like liquid fire. your fingers twisting into the fabric as if it could ground you. your mouth parts in both silence and loud moanings, sensation quickly overwhelms you as he presses his fingertip on your clitories—sending electricity over your frail body.

you can feel almost everything—from the press of his chest against your back, his breath fanning over your nape, the occasional slaps on your asscheeks—the grinding of his hips as he takes long, slow, and deep strokes and slams it back knocking on your womb.

he removes his hand around your tit to slide up your spine, fingers curling around your shoulder as he pulls you up—your back flush against his chest, bodies pressed so close his sweat trails down your back too.

the shift has you gasping, thighs quivering as you kneel together, held up by the firm grip of his arm wrapped around your throat—the other continues pleasuring and playing with your pussy. your head lolls back against his shoulder, lips parting as another wave of pleasure shudders through you—this position has the dexterity to stimulate you differently compared with the previous one.

you spread your thighs wider, his mouth moves from your jaw to your ear, confessing with every peck and kisses. “so good, so tight baby,” his saliva trails down your jaw.

“‘m gonna cum,” sungchan moans as you clutch onto his arm, nails digging in at the overwhelming ecstasy. “can i cum, love?” he asks—though he’s not asking for permission, just courtesy. you nod eagerly, licking your lips. he picks up his pace, chasing his high as his thrusts go slopping, losing his rhythm.

“please—jinsu, please,” you squeal, looking up to the ceiling that you swear it’s filled with stars. sungchan lets out a soft chuckle, turning your head slightly so he can attach his lips against yours. so soft, so intimate, so loving.

that’s all you—sungchan thinks.

your toes curl as the two of you intertwine your tongues together. he doesn’t slow down one bit. “please cum inside of me—? can you—fuck, jinsu, please fill me up,” you plead, and that only seems to rile sungchan even more as he groans into the messy kiss.

upon your request (that he’s going to do anyway), his needy cock twitches inside of you until he bursts his warm, thick cum deep into your cunt, filling you up completely. the ecstatic and sudden rush tips you over the edge when sungchan fondles your clitories—and you squirt for the second time of the night. “oh my god, fuck, yn,” he gasps.

your muscles clench and clamp tightly around sungchan’s throbbing cock as he pumps and coax every last drop of him cum into your greedy cunt. “oh god…” you whimper, closing your eyes as your chest rises and falls in an uneven rhythm.

he only pulls back a moment later after he’s sure he has completely buried everything in you that it leaks out (not before bucking his hips just a little bit more…). wincing as he pulls out, strings of cum dripping down from your hole. he still hasn’t let go of his arm around your throat, your body slumps against him—frail, tired, and spent.

then, sungchan wraps both of his arms around waist and pulls you on his lap, securing your tired body against him. you instantly melt into his hold as he presses you flush against his chest.

“you’re so cute,” he hums, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. he shifts the two of you on the bed—covering your bodies with your blanket. your bedsheet is wet from his cum, mixed sweats, your squirt—every inhale is slow and heavy. you can only let out a small chuckle as you clutch at his forearms. “really?” you ask.

sungchan nods as he leaves soft kisses along your jaw down to your shoulder. “mmhm,” he hums, kneading the flesh on your waist. “you’re always so cute.” he mumbles, using his fingers to slightly turn your head so he can place a soft kiss on it, lingering for just a second longer than necessary.

maybe tomorrow, you’ll think about what this all means—and what will come afterwards. maybe you’ll restart it all tomorrow.

for now, you let yourself stay in his hold.

your phone in your bag buzzes,

seokie: yn! i finished my exams :)

seokie: when can i see my pretty girl?

💭 r u #teamjinsu or #teamseok ... shld i make it a poly ending? teehee thank u for reading <3 sorry that this is more like a filler chapter ;(

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