#had I known I would’ve asked for more

[the-winds-of-destiny-xxx]

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[ciderjacks]

I like your post about chilchucks marriage a lot!! I just wanted to give my personal opinion on how I see it.

Even tho chilchuck is mature enough to admit when he's wrong, I would say that he's not very good at telling people just how much he cares about them. Even if he does work and acts of service that prove his love, he still routinely fails to verbally or physically show love to others. So personally I wouldn't blame his wife for leaving, to her it was probably : my husband gets hurt -> he's never home to help me with 3 kids -> he never tells me he loves me and doesn't hold me -> this isn't a good fit for either of us.

I also think we as the reader have the advantage of knowing the person chilchuck has grown to be post divorce, we have very little insight into how he was before he was blindsided. And I would assume being left alone had a big impact on who he is now and that he probably changed quite a bit in that time, he grew because he had to become his new self on his own, and that new self had to be someone who would serve his needs post divorce and learn from his mistakes.

that makes sense, I think especially his difficulty expressing his care through normal ways is probably a part of it. (though I wanna correct that like based on the troll excerpt and other material we see w them, it seems like he was there to raise the kids. Marcille’ s vision of him not being around often was based on the fact that she’s only known him after he had nothing tethering him down anymore, and thought his kids were way younger than they were)

The thing is she definitely knows he loves her, and given their relationship, almost certainly is very familiar and not too bothered by The Way He Is. The way I see it, it’s more like:

life with best friend turned husband going great -> our kids move out -> he starts taking more jobs, leaving longer, and is always coming back in a horrible state -> these days I worry if he’ll make it back, and he’s cagey about what he’s even doing -> his habit of being very closed off is quickly going from endearing to frustrating -> the meeting his coworkers only made me more uneasy (could be because his coworkers were sleazy, or because she felt like they knew him better than she did) -> things have changed -> you know what? Fine. I’ll leave, that’ll snap him out of it for sure.

[fakeoutbf]

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[kamitv]

▷ First Time?

Synopsis . When you get paired with the campus asshole, Sukuna, for a project, the last thing you expect to learn about him is that he’s a damn virgin. Nor did you expect to be the one to change that. / Pairing . virgin!Sukuna x fem!reader / Content . afab!reader, oral sex (m!receiving), premature ejac, non-curse college au, dirty talk, pet names, degrading, porn w plot, teasing, taunting, filth, etc. / wc . 6k

A/N: ty to the nonnie on my main who asked if I’d ever write virgin!jjk men :3 [MDNI]

Who would’ve thought?

Of all people, Sukuna, a virgin? It just didn’t make sense.

He was this stand-offish asshole who most people respected out of pure fear. He didn’t exactly do parties and yet you could always find him at one. He’d always have some chick on his arm or even in his lap so, in what world would anyone with a brain assume he’s actually never been inside a woman before?

And to make his lack of game all the more unbelievable, he’s even rumored to have a big dick— it’s like some overly well-known campus fact about the guy.

So, again, what reason would anyone have to think the guy was a virgin?

Certainly not you, of course. And you don’t expect to be the only person to find out such information either.

The way you find out is probably even more bizarre than the fact itself. You and him had little to no reason to ever interact with each other. You weren’t some shy nerd who holed herself up in her room all day or anything but you weren’t much of the party type other.

You were stuck somewhere in the middle of all that, vicariously living through some of your friends who had better things going for them.

As such, there was no real reason for you and Sukuna to cross paths. He never even had a reason to acknowledge your existence until the two of you are paired up together for a project in the one class you happen to take together.

——

The background noise is the chatter of your fellow classmates and their own project partners, you find your partner grumbling out a low, “What?” In response to your last statement, having hardly heard a thing you said.

“I said,” You huff, sitting beside the man in question as today marks week two of you being paired up with him for this semester’s project, “We should be meeting up outside of class too. We could get his knocked out in like a day if you just-“

“Oh that,” Sukuna cuts off casually. Seated all slouched back in his seat, his legs sprawled out in that signature manspread of his— he rolls his eyes at your little reminder, “You said somethin’ about that last week.”

You speak through slightly gritted teeth, fighting the headache he’s about to give you from this conversation alone, “All the more reason for you to take it into consideration. The faster we get this done, the less we have to deal with each other.”

As you say that, you glance at him only to find his eyes directly on yours already. He’s got such lazy posture, his head tilted slightly whilst he gazes at you so intently, and his big muscular arms folded across his chest. Even wearing a black hoodie and gray sweats, he still looks as attractive as ever— mean low-lidded crimson eyes locked on yours, tattooed face so beautifully defined, and rosy lips pulled into such an uninterested little frown.

Up until your words hit his ears properly, “The less we have to deal with each other, huh?” Sukuna repeats, narrowing his eyes even further at you, “You barely even know me ‘nd yet you want nothing to do with me already.”

“I know enough about you, Sukuna,” You say with a sigh, “And you hardly contribute to this project as is. Which only proves that everything they say about you is probably true.”

He arches a brow, his interest piquing, “And what exactly do people say about me?”

You let off a light scoff, “Don’t act like you don’t know.”

“But I don’t know,” Sukuna tells you honestly, maroon eyes boring into yours.

You stare for a moment as you try to decipher whether or not he’s being honest right now. How does he not know what people say about him? Everyone talks about his brooding personality very openly.

“They say you’re an ass,” You eventually say to the man.

To which his lips twitch into a slight smirk, “And you believe that?”

“Seeing as I’ve asked you to, at the very least, type your name on this document and you haven’t even done that yet,” You scoff, “Yes.”

The two of you mildly glare at one another for a moment before Sukuna leans up in his seat. Breaking eye contact for just a moment to look at his laptop, he swiftly moves to open up that shared document of yours and types his name out with a heavy sigh.

After which, he’s slouching back again and looking at you, “Don’t believe everything people tell you, woman.”

You roll your eyes at him, “What? Are you not fond of rumors? That still doesn’t negate the fact that you’re an assho-“

“When do you want to meet up?” Sukuna grumbles out almost reluctantly, watching the way you pause and swallow thickly as he catches you off-guard.

He’s almost even intrigued by how quickly you bounce back, despite being caught by surprise, “Friday. Are you free?”

“Unfortunately,” He grumps.

You give him a little shrug, “Good. I’ll see you then.”

And that was it. That was how each and every interaction with you and Sukuna went. Bickering back and forth about him not doing shit to help you with something that’ll affect your grade majorly, criticizing you about being too focused and needing to relax every now and then, and even calling you a stuck-up little brat one time— it was safe to say, you and Sukuna didn’t get along too well.

Not that you minded anyway. He wasn’t your first partner to care little about their grade so, you knew how to deal with these kinds of people by now. Typically, you indulge yourself in their craving to ‘relax’ just once and then they promise to start helping. You’ve gone down that path before and it’s worked for you then so you assume things will go the same way with Sukuna.

Plus, you guess you can give him a slight pass for his asshole attitude, at least he has a pretty face to look at. Dark ink always decorating his awfully smooth skin, deep dark yet beautiful ruby-shaded eyes boring into whatever it is his focus on, and broad shoulders looming over your smaller figure every time he stands in front of you— you can't help but feel both attracted and intimidated by the man.

——

Which is exactly why when you open your apartment door for the scheduled meetup that Friday to crane your head up at him, you’re swallowing thickly to settle your nerves. You’ve never been alone with the man so of course you’re a bit nervous.

Especially with the way he gazes down at you like that’s exactly where you belong: beneath him. His eyes are filled to the brim with intensity and yet he’s only just set them on you. Wearing a noticeable black compression shirt and those signature gray sweets of his, he almost appears as though he’d just come from the gym.

And just as you take in his appearance, he very openly takes in yours— his eyes raking over your body and taking in every single inch of you. After all, just as it was your first time alone with him, it was his first time seeing you dress so comfortably. He doesn’t even try to hide the way he stares at your tits peeking out from the rather thin spaghetti-strap top you were wearing, his eyes soon trailing down slowly to those tauntingly short shorts you had on.

“So,” Sukuna swipes his tongue over his lips and cocks his head to the side, hands stuffed in his pockets and eyes yet to lift from your legs, “Are you gonna stare at me all day or are you gonna let me in?”

You blink out of whatever little daze you were in, having found yourself gazing at his chest far longer than you meant to. It was right in front of your face after all, how could you look anywhere else? And his shirt was so damn tight, the fabric hugging his well-toned body perfectly, so much so that you swore you could make out piercings on his-

Sukuna leans forward suddenly, his face nearing yours to gain your full attention, “If you keep staring at me like that, I’m gonna assume you invited me over for something else-“

“Sorry,” You chirp out as you clear your throat and awkwardly step back a bit to let him in, “You can come in.”

Nodding, Sukuna slips by you and you shut your apartment door behind him. Then, you’re quick to lead him over to your living room where you’d previously been working on your project.

The two of you are hasty to take a seat on your couch, both of you only a few inches apart from one another whilst you lean toward your coffee table and log into your already open laptop. Sukuna’s eyes are all over you as always, studying your side profile, your intent focus on the screen in front of you, and even the way you-

“Did you even bring anything?” You suddenly ask before you glance at the man.

Sukuna quickly meets your gaze, ripping his eyes off of wherever they’d been previously, “Was I supposed to?”

“Sukuna,” You sigh out, “Please tell me you’re joking right now.”

He swallows at the mere sound of his name rolling off your tongue in that scolding tone of yours— he’s heard such a tone from you time and time again and yet, for whatever reason, it never seems to annoy him. 

“I’m not.” He says plainly.

“How are we supposed to work on this if you-,” You cut yourself off and decide not to even attempt arguing with him. Arguing won’t change the fact that he showed up with nothing. “Just uhm,” You glance elsewhere for a second before an idea comes to mind and you place your laptop down and stand up, “Stay here.”

Sukuna doesn’t say anything. He merely watches as you huff and walk off, swiftly exiting the living room and disappearing down a nearby hall. He swears he finds himself looking at you a bit more than intended. Especially as you walked off, his eyes dropping to your ass and those damn shorts of yours.

Even when you’re out of his sight, he still finds himself staring in the direction of which you went, almost unable to look away for whatever strange reason.

That lasts for a few minutes until he snaps out of it and leans back against the couch, tossing his head back and letting out a long sigh. You soon return to find him with an arm stretched along the back of the couch, his legs spread as usual, and his eyes up on the ceiling.

He doesn’t even notice you’ve returned until he feels something placed in his lap. Looking down, Sukuna finds your laptop kindly set on top of him. To which his brows furrowed in confusion and he looked at you to see you sitting on the floor in between the couch and the coffee table with a paper and pencil in front of you.

“What’s this?” Sukuna scoffs.

You don’t even spare him a glance as you begin writing something down, “How we’ll get things done.” He opens his mouth to say something but then you’re looking back at him with a glare, “I already organized the parts of this project that you have to do so, since it’s on my computer, you can work on that and I’ll work with what I remember.”

You wholeheartedly expected him to find something about this to disagree with you on but, to your surprise, he simply nods and redirects his focus to your laptop immediately.

And then, the two of you work exactly like that for the remainder of that little study session.

——

Sukuna’s not terrible to work with when it’s just you and him. If anything, he’s rather cooperative and a lot smarter than he leads on. 

Which is why a solid two hours of productivity flies by surprisingly smoothly with him. If you asked him a question, he answered. Told him to do something, he’d say something snarky, and then do whatever it is you’ve instructed anyway.

It all went so perfectly up until he let out a really heavy sigh, “Alright, I’ve had enough for this.” Sukuna says casually.

He’s been repeating a similar phrase every thirty minutes or so but he usually gets right back to work after getting ignored by you. This time though, you get the feeling he’s serious when he pushes your laptop off of his lap and places it forward on the coffee table.

It’s then that you frown, “Oh c’mon, we were getting so much done,” You comment as you glance back to him.

He shrugs, “I can’t keep looking at that damn screen, it’s giving me a headache.”

“Of course it is,” You utter sarcastically, rolling your eyes whilst you place your pencil down and throw your arms up to stretch, “Fine then, we can take a break.”

Sukuna’s brows lift in surprise. He didn’t expect you to listen to him, “Good.” He hums, “I was getting bored as well.”

You scoff, “Were you?”

“Yeah, can we do something else?” He asks.

Turning around, you rotate the way you’re sitting so that you’re facing him and your back is resting against your coffee table. “Like what?” You muse, meeting his low-lidded gaze.

“Talk,” Sukuna says.

That’s it? He wanted a break to talk to you? Your eyes are narrowing at him before you even realize, “Talk?” You repeat with a scoff, “Seriously?”

He nods, “Mhm.”

“What do you wanna talk about, Sukuna?” As you ask him that, you watch the way his eyes casually slide down to your lips.

Does he mean to be this indiscreet with his looks? Or is he eyeing you down like that on purpose?

The man shrugs, “Anything outside of fuckin’ school.”

You laugh at that, “Okay, I can work with that.”

He tilts his head at you and licks his lips, “Yeah?” Something about your little laugh threw him off. 

“Mhm,” You hum as you look down at your hand, fiddling with your nails a bit, “The rumors… are they true?”

Thrown off yet again, Sukuna’s brows pinch together. “Rumors?” He echoes in a genuinely confused tone, “What rumors, woman?”

The sound of your scoff makes him stiffen in his seat. Almost in an instant, the atmosphere had changed suddenly. “C’mon, don’t play dumb,” You tease, lifting your gaze to him again, “The rumors about you.”

He gives you a perplexed look and it’s almost as though you could see the gears in his head turning. “If you know something, say it.” He demands.

You sigh, “Sukuna, do you seriously hear nothing people say about you?”

Sukuna shrugs, “I don’t care enough to remember. So what is it? What rumor?”

You’re just curious. You swear that’s all it was. And, naturally, since he seemed to have warmed up to you— of course you wanted to know if that rumor about his dick was true. You’re both adults and it’s just a silly question. Plus, with the way he’s been looking at you all afternoon, you’re sure he won’t mind answering you with a simple yes or no.

Glancing to the side, your shoulders lift a bit, “It’s uh, rather intimate.” You hush out.

Sukuna narrows his eyes at you, “Intimate?? An intimate rumor about me?”

His emphasis on himself makes your eyes flick back over to him. “Yeah, are you sure you don’t know what they say about you??” You ask again.

“Positive. Now speak, what is it they say?” Sukuna huffs impatiently, even more curious about this little rumor after the mention of it being intimate. After all, he’s never-

“People say you have a big dick,” You utter way too casually.

So nonchalantly that it makes him choke, a choke you don’t mess with the way he clears his throat and sits up a little. “What?” He rasps out.

You bat those stupidly false innocent eyes at him, “I didn’t stutter,” Your tone dips into something different and he catches every bit of it, “People say you have a big dick, is it true?”

Sukuna clears his throat and for the first time, he glances away from you. Then, he opens and closes his mouth, contemplating his next words carefully before they soon fall from his lips, “You wanna find out?”

His offer spurs a shift in your seat from you as you scoot closer to him ever so slightly, “You wanna show me?” You ask boldly, your tone direct, and not even a flicker of hesitation present.

“Do I want to-,” Sukuna pauses, his eyes scanning the entirety of your seated frame as you inch closer to him, “What?” He huffs, swallowing thickly.

You move to stand on your knees and lean forward to the couch, soon propping your chin up on your palm as you look at him, “Show me,” You chuckle, “I asked if you wanted to show me, Sukuna.”

He blinks, “Show you my cock?”

You shrug, “Yeah.”

The air is so thick right now, Sukuna’s not sure how exactly he can play this off without making a fool of himself. He gulps yet again, only to watch as your eyes start to drop down along his body.

“Stop,” He rushes out, “Keep your eyes up here. On mine,” He commands in a low tone, earning your gaze once more.

And then it’s quiet for a moment. He’s staring at you and you’re obediently keeping your eyes up on his. Sukuna hates it but he doesn’t know what to say or do from here. The last thing he wanted was for you to find out his little secret. 

It’s like he was waiting for a fucking pin to drop, something to break the silence. Yet, his mind was going blank and words were failing him at the moment. He’s flirted with women before, plenty of times actually, effortlessly even— but for whatever reason, as you sit there with those stupidly pretty eyes staring at him, his mind simply flakes on him.

He’s like that for a minute longer until you move. So subtly too, sliding a hand to his thigh, leaning forward slightly, batting your lashes at him, “Sukuna?” You whisper.

His hips are rolling upward slightly at the sound of his name alone. “W-What?” He stammers, mentally cursing himself a thousand times over.

“If you don’t wanna show me you can jus’ say no,” You hum, smiling a bit, “Y’know that, right?”

He scoffs, “Of course I know that, woman.”

“If you know that then…” Your fingers lightly squeeze his thigh and you tilt your head, “Are you gonna tell me or show me whether or not those rumors are true?”

Something simply clicks inside Sukuna’s head. Rose-tinted lips cracking into a smirk, the man spreads his legs further and slouches back into the couch, “Find out for yourself since you’re so curious.”

Your eyes go wide, “What?”

Sukuna scoffs lightly, moving one of his arms from the back of the couch and placing his hand over his crotch. Of course, your gaze sinks down to his veiny hand, watching as he palms a stupidly large bulge in his sweats.

Your breath hitches a bit, “I-I-“

You don’t even get the chance to get it out before he’s cutting you off, “C’mere,” Sukuna hums in that low voice of his.

“What?” You whisper.

You and him make eye contact again and he nods his chin toward the space in between his legs. Nothing can really explain why you follow his gesture and quickly find yourself sitting in between his legs, taking a deep breath as you settle your hands on his thighs.

Sliding your touch up and up and up until your fingers graze his hand. The same hand that was resting on top of that aching bulge of his.

Sukuna slowly lifts his hand up and away, relaxing his arm on the back of the couch again as he stares down at you. Cocking his head to the side, “Well? Feel it.” He huffs.

You don’t even hesitate. Trailing your fingers upward carefully until you feel the outline of his cock beneath your fingertips, gulping as you drag your hand up to cup his length in your hand firmly, and smirking at the way his cock twitches furiously beneath your small touch.

Sukuna’s mouth falls open for a second but you’re too engrossed in feeling him to notice. He lets out a shuddered breath as he watches the way you grope his steadily growing erection. His head even tosses back and his fingers dig into the couch for a moment.

“It is big,” You whisper to yourself, your words only making him twitch more within your hand.

“Fuck,” Sukuna grits out lowly, hips unconsciously lifting to press himself further against you.

His curse earns your attention. You quickly glance up to him and see the way he’s got his head tossed back, Adam's apple bobbing with every heavy gulp he takes, and his chest rising and falling rather quickly.

You lift your hand carefully and decide to test something out. Slowly, you lean forward and just barely press your lips against his clothed cock.

Sukuna’s whole body reacts. He gasps louder than he means to and he’s weaving his fingers through your hair faster than he realizes, palming your scalp as he quickly looks down at you. “T-The fuck are you doing? Huh?” He huffs while gripping onto your hair.

You lift your head a bit but he keeps you in place, despite his question to you. “I just…” You’re not exactly sure you can explain yourself.

And by this point, Sukuna doesn’t think he cares enough to hear an excuse from you, “…You what? You wanna see it?”

All you can do is give him a little nod before he moves his free hand to the drawstring of his sweatpants. Then you're quick to help him tug them down until his boxers are revealed to you— a noticeable dampness in the fabric right where his leaking tip is. Was that because of you?

Before you can dawn on your own questions, Sukuna’s moving to tug his cock out. And fuck is he even bigger revealed before your eyes. With an upward curve, such an angry flushed tip, precum dripping from the slit of his fat cockhead, veins decorating his shaft and-

Shit, you were drooling. How’d you get like this again?? Ah, who cares?

“Sukuna,” You breathe out, ripping your eyes away from his cock just to look up at him.

He was almost panting, dark maroon eyes pouring down into yours, face flushed with different shades of red and pink, his lips parted softly— hell, he looked like he was in heat or something.

Gulping before he answers you, Sukuna clears his throat and his voice is already husky, “What?”

You shift against the floor, your hands relaxing against his large thighs, “Can I-“

“Yeah,” He cuts off. Lord knows if you got that question out he was going to lose his damn mind.

You raise a brow and lean forward, keeping your eyes on his while your lips near his tip, “Yeah?”

The last thing you get from him is a nod before you’re parting your lips. And from that moment forward, it all goes downhill. Everything from the way you’re sitting in between his legs to that initial connection of your plush lips against his drooling cock had Sukuna’s mind spinning.

He’s never been sucked off before. Hell, the farthest he’s gone as far as sexual activities are concerned is a little bit of dry humping. But this? Oh hell, this was his first time and he had zero idea how he was going to keep that information away from you.

Especially when he feels your tongue slip from between your lips and swirl around the head of his cock, kittenly lapping up that slim layer of precum sitting so prettily on his tip. 

“Oh f-fuuck,” Sukuna groans huskily, the hand on your head gripping tighter.

You pull away from him slightly just to take in his expression and the way he tosses his head back. It was almost cute to you. The last thing you expected was for him to be so damn sensitive, you hardly did anything.

His sensitivity only worsens as you finally start wrapping your lips around his cock, feeling him throb when you sink your mouth down on him. Sukuna’s jaw goes slack and his brows twist up. He tries his best to hold it in but he can’t help but moan at the way you leisurely suck on half of his lengthy cock.

Your saliva wets up the rest of his shaft and you make up for what your mouth hasn’t reached yet with your hand, stroking him lightly whilst you take the rest of his girth in and out of your mouth. Rolling your tongue around him, pulling off just to messily spit and kiss on his blushing tip, and slobbering all over him— Sukuna almost fucking kicked something with how good your mouth felt around him.

He’s used his hand and other shit before but holy fuck, nothing, and he means nothing compares to that damn mouth of yours. The way you look with his cock stuffed right in between those lips he’s been staring at for God knows how long— your lips all slick with spit, eyes rolling back the deeper you take him, and tongue sticking out every time you pull your mouth off of him.

You soon slip your mouth off of him and start jerking him off, focusing your tongue on his tip and slithering the wet muscle in between the slit of his cock, lathering your tongue up with his glistening precum. 

The sound of Sukuna groaning makes you look up at him, finding his eyes on yours again. He’s panting, trying his best to look like this wasn’t phasing him but failing in every way with how flushed his face was. 

Your tongue sticks out and your hand continues to slide up and down his cock as you tap his tip on your tongue, making his brows twist up. 

He bites back a throaty sound, “Hah… damn brat,” Sukuna huffs out as if to… degrade you? 

You almost find it cute how clearly inexperienced he is, spitting a fat wad of spit onto his pretty wet tip and then smiling at him, “Sukuna,” You coo, your hand gripping his shaft tighter, “Is this your first time?”

He instantly looks off to the side, the veins in his neck and along his jawline tensing as he grits his teeth. Since he decides to ignore your little question, you take it a step further and slide your hand down his cock, gripping his thick base firmly before taking him into your heavenly warm mouth again.

His expression breaks completely, “Oh shit,” Sukuna moans, his hips bucking up into your mouth as you slide him deeper into your mouth than you did before.

Then his hand is pushing your head down further on instinct and he’s subtly rutting his hips up. You lift your head up despite his constant pushing, soon causing your head to bob up and down whilst you suck him off skillfully.

“Jus’ like that,” Sukuna suddenly groans and you moan around his cock in reaction. To which he keeps giving your mouth mindless little thrusts, “Don’t s-, agh, stop.”

Sucking him deeper and deeper before you move your hand completely, you suck in a deep breath of air through your nose, open up the very back of your throat, and sink all the way down, your lips meeting his pelvis as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Sukuna kicks something. Probably your coffee table with the way one of his legs extends out so suddenly, a choked-out groan ripped from his throat as your little move was all it took for him to cum. And it’s so much too, hot thick ropes of cum spurting down your throat, his hand holding onto your head for dear life whilst a moan of your name rolls off his tongue.

You’re still sucking too, pulling up only to swallow what he’s gifted you and then stick your tongue out. Laying it flat against his tip, you leisurely lick at him as if to beg for more and now the man’s pushing your head away for the first time.

When you lift your eyes up to him again, you notice he’s got his tattooed arm over his mouth and his lashes are batting softly at you. For such a big man, he was so ridiculously cute right now. Panting, sweating, cursing under his breath as if you couldn’t hear him.

“Yeah,” Sukuna utters suddenly, clearing his throat, “That was… my first… time. I uh-“

“Do you want more?” Is the last thing you asked him before you were sitting back on your heels and he was stumbling to his feet.

You had to guide him through it of course but, Sukuna doesn’t hesitate to stuff your face full of his cock again. You take him so kindly too, obediently sitting there with your hands gripping his thighs for support with every careful thrust of his hips.

He was trying to be gentle with you at first. Partially because he didn’t know what the hell he was doing, and also because he just loved the initial entry into your mouth. Over and over, Sukuna slid his dick in and out of your mouth like he was possessed, addicted to the feeling of you greedily sucking on him.

He was still sensitive from his first orgasm but his cock had yet to go down— twitching inside that sloppy mouth of yours, aching against your tongue, and dripping into the depths of your throat. Sukuna wasn’t much of a talker but he damn sure let out a plethora of grunts and groans.

They were so husk too, coming from deep within his chest, some getting caught in his throat when he felt your tongue flick against a specific vein on the underside of his cock. His fat tip knocked into the back of your throat with a single heavy thrust before his hands were latching onto the sides of your head.

Again, he’s not much of a talker but, something seems to come over him all at once because soon he’s got his gaze locked down on the messy sight of you and he’s huffing out words before he realizes. “Eyes up here, c’mon, hah… look at me,” Sukuna grunts.

Your eyes are completely glossed over as they flutter up to him. A moan vibrates against his skin as you make such intimate eye contact with the man, feeling his hips pick up.

Sukuna nods, “Good girl,” He praises in a low purr, and fuck does that do wonders for you because your legs are squeezing together more than they were before and you’re whining against him. “Fuck, y’like that?” He huffs, earning a sloppy lil’ nod from you.

He then feels you hum, “M-Mhm.” And he’s got chills slipping up his spine in pleasure.

Cracking a lazy, lopsided, and almost fucked-out little smirk, Sukuna scoffs, “Yeah? Fuck, behind all those g-glares ‘nd-, agh, scolding me… this is all you wanted, hm? A throat full of cock?”

His words had you whining again, fluttering your lashes at him as your fingertips dug into his thighs a little. Sukuna eases his hips back slowly, tipping his head to the side as he gently caresses the side of your face with his thumb.

“Messy girl,” He hums deeply, biting his lower lip at the way you’re just drooling for more and more as he pulls himself out of your mouth completely. “Jus’ look at this face,” Sukuna chuckles, “Y’look like a slut cryin’ like that— it’s cute.”

Blinking, you hadn’t even realized you had a tear or two sliding down your face. Your mouth remains open for a second before he moves to rub his tip against your plump lips, smearing your spit and his cum all over the damn place with a little grin on his face.

“‘Kuna…” You whisper, earning a quirk of his brow, “I can’t believe you’re a virg-“

“Don’t finish that sentence,” He grunts, moving a thumb to your chin to widen how open your mouth is for him, “Jus’… keep sittin’ there lookin’ pretty f’me,” Sukuna says.

You roll your eyes at him and all he can do is smile, pushing his hips forward again and easing his cock in between your lips. He slides in slowly until you can feel him pressing right against the back of your throat. To which he keeps himself there for a second, testing that gag reflex of yours and watching your eyes water.

Moving his hand back to the top of your head, he buries his fingers in your hair, “So fuckin’ sexy like this,” Sukuna compliments, feeling you moan in response, “M’gonna cum again, stay j-just like that,” He breathes out heavily, his eyes rolling to the back of his skull before he’s throwing his head back.

And as if to coax his orgasm out, you carefully move a hand to cup his balls, sucking on his cock as best as you can and earning an accidental sound from his throat. The second your palm is felt against him, the moment he feels your tongue slicking against him, Sukuna whines.

Then his thighs are tensing and he’s groaning loudly as if to cover up the sound that just left his lips, filling your throat with his seed and then tugging your mouth off of him with a quick pull of your head. You’re quick to swallow for yet a second time, letting out a needed cough after the fact while he stumbles back just a bit, his calves hitting the couch.

“Vixen,” Sukuna growls.

You clear your throat and send a smile his way, “Not my fault you cum easy.”

Sukuna’s slow to sit back down on the couch to catch his breath, “Tell anyone about this ‘nd I’ll-“

“Oh,” You suddenly purr, cutting him off as you lift yourself up from the ground. He watches with slightly widened eyes as you move to straddle him, “Don’t tell me you thought we were done?”

He’s at a loss for words all over again, his confidence suddenly getting caught in his throat and flying out the window. Your hands slip to his broad shoulders and you lean forward a little.

Sukuna’s hands shakily find their way to your waist as he stares up at you, “You want more?”

You smirk, tilting your head at the dumbfounded male, “Don’t you?” You ask in a sultry little whisper, making his sensitive cock twitch once more. “At the very least…” Your lips slowly near his and he’s losing his breath, “Taste yourself, Sukuna.”

And then your lips are on his and he’s taking your tongue into his mouth. His grip on your waist tightens before he pulls you flush against him, feeling your crotch press right against his cock that’s steadily twitching back to life.

The two of you share a heated and messy kiss, your hips carefully swaying against him to encourage his returning arousal. You can’t really use curiosity as an excuse anymore, can you?

Well, you can. And you do with the way your hands slide down to his chest, your fingers slipping over his nipples to find exactly what you’d been curious about. You flick your fingers over his piercing there and Sukuna lets out a low hiss, prying his lips from yours and sending you a glare.

Not only did that little move of yours make his cock spring up completely but, you also notice the frown on his face.

Smiling at him, “Sukuna…”

“Don’t.” He huffs.

“You have nipple piercings?” You end up asking anyway in a happy little tone.

He grits his teeth slightly, “…Obviously.”

Chuckling, you press a soft peck against his lips and whisper, “Can I see them?”

“No.” He replies.

Part two.

[bylroos]

i went into work on monday thinking it’d be my only shift of the week and then proceeded to work a 16 today and i am now scheduled for another 16 on saturday. i have class the rest of the days this week.

[pasukiyo]

BEAUTIFUL THING

mike schmidt x f!reader word count; 2,573 warnings; smut, no plot, just porn :D summary; there was nothing in the world she wanted more than mike schmidt. but what were the chances he'd ever make a move on her?

 She wanted Mike Schmidt.

 Don’t get her wrong, she absolutely adored Abby, she was sweet, funny, and overall not a hard kid to take care of. But she knew all too well what her intentions were when she agreed to take up the babysitting job— how could she say no when he looked at her like that with those big, deep brown eyes?

 It was another late night spent at the Schmidt house— Mike had just gotten himself a new job with unholy hours, some late night security gig he had no choice but to take. Her mouth opened in a yawn and through her bleary vision, she blinked down to the watch on her wrist. 

 4:30 AM. Mike wouldn’t be back for another hour and a half or so. 

 She sighed and threw her head back against the cushions, staring absentmindedly at the television as some old cartoon played, audio soft and muffled. She wasn’t sure why she even bothered trying to stay up for Mike— she’d been babysitting for him for months, (without pay, might she add) and still, neither he nor she had made any moves. She wasn’t even sure if he ever even intended to make a move on her. 

 But she was just so certain that he felt at least some sort of attraction towards her. She could see it in the way he looked at her, how his eyes would absentmindedly trail down her body against his better judgment, how he’d pull the inside of his bottom lip between his teeth while he did. She could see it in the way his body would react when she came too close, like when she gave him a handshake or playfully shoved his shoulder.

 It was the same way she reacted when he was close. 

 Surely it couldn’t all be for nothing?

 Her eyelids were falling heavy against her eyes and she slowly slumped further into the cushions of the couch, hands tightening around the blanket around her body. Sleep was so close that she could reach out and feel it, and she would’ve slipped into the arms of slumber if it hadn’t been for the opening and closing of the front door. 

 She grumbled and furrowed her brows down at her watch. 

 4:35 AM. Mike wasn’t supposed to be home yet. 

 At the notion, she jolted and snapped her head towards the entrance, her heart thrumming against her chest as she prepared herself for the sight of a total stranger, ready to make a run straight for Abby’s room. She blinked and narrowed her eyes at the dark silhouette of the figure as it hung its coat on the rack bolted on the wall. 

 “Sorry. S’ just me.”

 She knew that voice. It was a voice she always dreamed about, a voice belonging to someone she’d seen practically everyday.

 “Mike?” Her voice came out rough, having not spoken for hours, not since Abby had gone to bed. “What are you doing home so early?” She asked as she pushed herself further up the sofa while Mike made his way towards the recliner, wiping a hand down his face before plopping down into the seat. She could only make out his face through the light from the television but even then, she could sense something was off. 

 Mike tapped his fingers against the armrest of the recliner, “I… I just… needed to leave… I guess,” he replied and she frowned, scooting to the far side of the couch closest to him. “Is… is everything alright?” She questioned, unsure whether or not he needed consoling. Mike leaned further back into his seat and let his eyelids flutter closed, inhaling deep through his nostrils. 

 “Just… is Abby asleep?” He finally asked after a moment and she nodded, humming. “She went down earlier than usual. Actually managed to get her to eat something,” she replied, her lips curving into a smile but quickly faltering again when she realized Mike wasn’t going to reciprocate. He looked almost… distraught. 

 Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, she pondered her options. She’d known Mike for some time but even then, she still knew little to nothing about him. He slept a lot, that was for sure. And he loved his little sister and was trying so hard to be exactly the type of person she needed. But she knew nothing about him, Mike Schmidt himself. She didn’t know what he did in his free time, what he liked to eat, if he had hobbies, nothing. 

 Hell, she’d spent so much time fantasizing about him and filling in all the holes herself, she hardly even acknowledged that he could be somebody entirely else. She didn’t know the first thing about him.

 But she could learn to try. 

 She leaned forward, a steady hand warily finding his on the armrest of the recliner and she flinched when Mike snapped his eyelids open, looking between her and their touching hands. Their gazes surged into one another and she made no moves, as if seeking any sign that she should stop.

 Mike’s heart thrummed so hard inside his chest, it was a miracle that she couldn’t hear it. She looked at him as if she were asking permission— permission to what, he hadn’t even the slightest clue. But in spite of the voices inside of his head telling him he shouldn’t, that he shouldn’t let her, that he was wrong for her, he did. How could he say no when she looked at him like that, as if he were the most beautiful thing she’d ever laid eyes upon?

 His silence gave her the confidence to let her fingers creep further down to the back of his hand, flipping it around until they rested against the heel of his palm. Slowly, she soothed the tips of her fingers up his palm until they fell between the cracks of his, letting her digits curl around his knuckles. Mike shuddered at the touch and let his own fingers press down against hers and he watched as she raised their intertwined hands to her mouth, their gazes molded together as she pressed her lips against his skin. His lips trembled as they fell open and he narrowed his eyes, clinging onto the last bit of restraint he had left. 

 “You can relax with me, Mike,” she whispered against his skin, pressing another soft kiss to the knuckle of his ring finger. “You don’t have to worry while I’m around.”

 Mike pressed his lips back together and fought back the urge to groan at her words, his eyes wandering from their hands, down her arm, to her chest where it pressed against the edge of the sofa. His breath shuddered when he exhaled and the rubber band stretched inside of him finally released and with it, the last of his restraint. 

 Fuck it, he thought. It’s been long enough.

 Mike tugged her closer by the hand and her lids widened, a squeal slipping from her lips, in which he was swift to eat right up, pressing his mouth against hers. With his hand not intertwined with hers, he gripped her hip, working his way up to her waist to squeeze. The sound she made was muffled inside their admittedly messy kiss and he pulled her even closer, her knees having nowhere to go but on the outside of his thighs. 

 Mike groaned and pulled away to catch his breath as her hips ground down against his, already feeling frustrated with the growing erection in his jeans. He blinked up at the woman on top of him, her arms thrown over his shoulders, her chest heaving as she chased air back into her lungs. She stared down at him with hazy irises, still bleary from lack of sleep. 

 “Sorry,” Mike finally managed to breathe out, his palms resting on either of her thighs. “Probably a little much, wasn’t it?”

 He watched as the corners of her lips curved into a grin and she chuckled breathlessly, shaking her head. “Not enough,” she tittered as she surged her lips back into his, one of her hands on his shoulders slithering their way into his mess of dark tendrils, fingers curling and tugging at his roots. He hissed inside her mouth and dug his fingernails into her skin, a whimper falling from her lips, allowing him to take control of the situation. 

 He pressed himself forward and reached for the end of her t-shirt and she briefly broke away to allow the fabric up and over her head, her own fingers already working at the buckle of his belt. Mike leaned forward to pepper kisses all across the tops of her breasts and she threw her head back as he took over in undoing his belt, ripping it from his loops and throwing open the button and zipper of his jeans. 

 She clambered off of him as he raised his hips to tug his pants and boxers down just enough to allow his erection to spring free of its restraints, feeling her stomach do a somersault at the sight as she stripped herself of her own shorts and panties. Mike fought the urge to wrap his hands around his cock as she reached behind her back to undo the clasps of her bra and time seemed to slow as the straps fell from her shoulders, the lave toppling to the floor altogether. 

 He swore he could feel his mouth water and never before this moment had he wanted something, or someone, more. He blinked up at her, following her gaze down to his lap and at his erection that stood tall, waiting for her, dripping with pre-cum. 

 Mike cocked an eyebrow, “you just gonna stand there or you gonna take it?” He asked, voice low and husky and fuck, she thought she’d drop dead right then and there. Still, this was a dangerous game they were playing. “What about Abby?” She whispered, glancing towards the hallway where Abby’s room was. “What if she wakes up?”

 Mike pressed his lips together and bucked his hips, raising a leg to softly give her calf a kick. “You can be quiet, right?” He murmured in question and she felt herself clench from his voice alone. Here Mike Schmidt was, cock out and erect, all because of her. This was something she had only dreamed of— never did she think that this would become reality. 

 Mike cocked his eyebrow again and she shook herself from her thoughts, taking his hand as he guided her back onto his lap. Her body shuddered and her bones rattled as she began to sink herself down, jolting when the tip brushed against her cunt, teeth sinking down into the plush of her bottom lip to contain her sounds. 

 “It’s okay,” Mike whispered. “I got you.”

 Her eyes about rolled in the back of her head at that as his hands kneaded at the flesh of either of her hips, guiding her further down his length, making sure to go agonizingly slow to ensure she felt every single fucking inch of cock inside of her. Tears brimmed the outskirts of her eyelids as she finally sat still on his lap, filled to the brim with cock. Mike let her head fall down against the curve of his shoulder, burying her nose into the crook of his neck as she allowed time to adjust to his size, simultaneously trying to keep her sounds to a minimum. 

 “You’re so tight,” Mike’s breath shuddered in her ear and his voice made goosebumps litter her skin, his fingertips like the icy breath of a ghost against her back. “You think you can handle moving now?” He asked in a whisper against the shell of her ear and she nodded, letting him grab her thighs and push her further up his cock until just the head remained. She cried against his neck when he sank her all the way back down his length, the lewd noise of their wet skin slapping together making her clench around him. “Fff… uuck,” he dragged his curse out as he snapped his hips up against her.

 “Shit!” She gasped as he thrusted again and again and again. And she let him. She let him use her in whatever way he pleased. 

 “Gonna be good for me?” He muttered next to her ear. “Gonna let me take care of you, hm?” She nodded, bobbing her head up and down against his shoulder as he snapped his hips up to hers again and again, daring the coil inside her belly to snap. “Think you can handle it?” He asked again and she nodded once more, crying and biting down on his collar. “Yes!” She cried, fortunately muffled against his skin. 

 So Mike thrusted again, harder and harder, chasing that high, that release he so desperately needed. He could tell she was close— it’d probably been so long since she’d been stuffed by cock like this. She’d probably been waiting for this moment just as long as he has. 

 With the pad of his thumb, he pressed down against her aching bud and Mike could feel a fresh new set of tears soak his skin as she cried, bucking her hips into his touch. His thrusts were as sloppy as they were powerful and she wasn’t sure how much more she could take. 

 “Mmm… Mike… I’m… I’m gonna…” she hardly managed to stutter out, slowly feeling the coil inside her stomach as it began to unravel. 

 “Yeah?” Mike said, his other hand wrapped around her neck and pushing her forehead down against his, gazing up at her closed eyelids. He rolled his head against hers, “look at me,” he breathed out and watched as she slowly fluttered her lids back open, just as more fat tears beaded down her cheeks. The sight was enough to get him to teeter on the edge himself. 

 “Gonna come?” He asked and she nodded, sweat-slicked forehead lolling against his. He nodded too, already feeling her release around him as she spawned around his cock, relying solely on him and his body to keep herself up. She buried her face in the crook of his neck again as she whined and cried, Mike’s thrusts speeding up as he gave himself that final push he needed to send himself reeling, spiraling and shaking with the force of his release. 

 “Fuck,” he growled into the skin just below her ear, squeezing his eyelids shut tighter as he willed himself to keep his sounds on the low, for the sake of his little sister sleeping just in the other room. 

 Silence fell over Mike and the babysitter for a good, long moment as they both recovered from their highs, chasing air back into their lungs as the realization of what they had just done began to sink in. Mike should be mortified— she was his sister’s babysitter, he doesn’t have time for this, she doesn’t deserve him, he shouldn't have done this. 

 But the woman in his lap settled herself closer into him, nuzzling her nose against the crook of his neck, her lips like a crescent moon against his skin as she placed a soft kiss to his flesh there. 

 “I hope you’re okay, Mike,” she whispered and he threw his head back, an arm thrown around her body as he stared up at the ceiling. How could he push her away now?

a/n; so yeah!!! i watched fnaf on friday and it kinda sorta just brought back my whole josh hutcherson phase so enjoy!! this was just a quick little something i wrote up and there's like no plot at all and not proofread LMAO

[sunsburns]

good luck, babe!

pairing: tashi duncan x fem!reader x patrick zweig x art donaldson

summary: patrick zwieg invites tashi duncan and art donaldson to join him at your engagement party. you think they came to celebrate you and your new chapter and put the past behind you, rebuilding lost friendships, but tashi hopes to stop you from marrying a man you never wanted.

—or: the trio crashes your engagement party

word count: 10k+ (i have a serious problem)

contains: SMUT 18+, smut with a lot of plot, post-challengers movie, fluff & comfort, angst, tashi’s pov but lowkey get's mixed up around the end, foursome, oral (fem receiving), oral (m receiving), p in v, unprotected sed (wrap it before yall tap it), homewrecking, cheating but also not cheating but also a worse third thing, three-way make out, four-way make out, dom!tashi, patrick being nasty, art being a loser, no use of y/n, situationship that lasts 13 years.

author’s note: this fic is based on this request with inspo from the greatest song on earth: good luck, babe! it was supposed to be a quick smut blurb but at this point, you all know i can’t write smut without some kind of angsty plot. everyone is super messy and there is some of the dirtiest smut i’ve written so far (it’s only going to get worse from here). this one is a roller coaster.

It didn't make sense to any of them, how you could've possibly ended up with him. 

Tashi remembered him from Stanford vividly. He came from a white-collared family, with daddy's money that bought him everything he could've ever asked for, yet he still wanted more. He played golf and polo and even dabbled with tennis but never had enough guts or skill to take it seriously. But his dad funded most of the programs and events at the school, so everyone had known him, his charm, his family, and his inability to stick to one thing even outside of sports. He clung onto a new girl every other week, a new girl wrapped around his finger only to be ultimately tossed aside like the rest of them.

"What a dick," Tashi remembered you saying once, stabbing your fork into your salad while glaring daggers at him from across the cafeteria as he bragged loudly to his fan club about how he beat you in a game of tennis. 

Which he didn't. 

You let him win. 

His parents had been paying you to coach him, paid you extra every time you let him win a set or two against you, even if it was off the record. God knows you needed the money.

"I think I'm gonna quit." You said, turning back to glance at Tashi.

"About damn time," she snickered, shaking her head. "I told you you're wasting your time with him when you could be doing something better. Like training with me."

You had rolled your eyes and poked her arm with your fork, "If I'm still trailing after him this time next week, shoot me in the head and put me out of my misery."

Almost thirteen years later, you're walking around with his ring on your finger at your engagement party. A party where your fiancé announced your upcoming retirement after a tennis career run that Tashi would’ve killed for: a six-time US Open winner; two-time gold medalist at the Olympics; and brand deals that would ensure you and the next four generations of your family lived happily under your trust fund.

Clearly, you weren't marrying him for his money.

It made Tashi anxious, because, in some way, she could see that the marriage you will have with your fiancé is far too similar to how Tashi's would have been if she and Patrick stayed together. 

Okay, maybe that was a reach.

Or maybe it's how it would've been if neither of you had gone up to Art and Patrick's hotel room that night. Or maybe it would've been Tashi's ring on your finger instead.

She couldn't shake the bitter taste in her mouth as she watched you laugh with him, your eyes lighting up in the way they always did when you were truly happy. It used to be her who made you smile like that. She remembered the late-night practices, the shared victories, and the quiet moments shared in the comfort of her dorm room. She remembered the promises you both made and dreams of dominating the tennis world together.

But she shouldn't dwell on the past, she shouldn't think about what-ifs. At least that's what Art tells her with a hand on her shoulder. Tashi glances at his hand, noting the wedding band that rests on his finger. The squeeze he gives is meant to be reassuring, but instead, it feels suffocating.

"I'll never know how he bagged her," Patrick tuts from her other side, a drink already in his hand. He holds it close to his mouth, biting the rim of the glass before taking a swig, his eyes never leaving you. His gaze is shameless, tracing the way your dress hugs your curves, how your hair shines under the chandelier lights, and the way your lips move as you speak.

"Lucky, lucky man..." Patrick shakes his head, a bitter edge to his voice.

A waiter passes by, offering hors d'oeuvres, and Patrick takes enough for the three of them for himself, setting his empty glass on the platter. As he stuffs an appetizer in his mouth, he begins to walk away, his eyes fixed on you.

"Where do you think you're going?" Art asks, his hand slipping from Tashi's shoulder.

Patrick spins around, mouth full, and shrugs. "To congratulate the future bride."

Art and Tashi stand there, watching, almost dumbfounded when they see Patrick sneak up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle and lifting you into the air. You shriek, champagne spilling from your glass, but once you see who it is, a wide smile breaks across your face.

"Patrick!" Tashi can hear you from across the hall. Patrick lifts you again, hoisting you into the air. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as he spins you around, your laughter ringing out—a sweet melody that draws the attention of everyone nearby. "You made it!"

Tashi feels a pang of surprise. 

You and Patrick had been in closer contact than she imagined. It stings, a reminder of the distance that had grown between you after her injury, much like the distance that had grown between Art and Patrick. She never knew you had turned to Patrick for comfort. Though it made sense—Patrick was the one you invited, not her, not Art. Patrick was the one who had to ask if he could bring two guests instead of the traditional plus-one. 

But surely, you must have known that if you invited Patrick, Tashi and Art would come too, right? 

Right? 

The question churns a pit of dread in her stomach as Art starts to lead her closer to you out of courtesy.

Patrick's arms are wrapped tightly around your torso, his hand resting too low to be innocent, but you seem happy nonetheless. Happier in Patrick's arms than in the arms of your future husband. You embrace him close, the ring on your finger glimmering under the chandelier lights as you hold onto the back of his neck, your laughter finally subsiding as the spinning stops.

As Tashi and Art approach, the reality of the situation hits her harder. She's watching from the outside, a spectator to your happiness, feeling the sting of what could have been. She forces a smile; your engagement to the worst person in the world can't possibly be the thing that makes her break. Not after everything she's built since she started coaching.

Art tries to catch your eye, offering a polite smile once you let go of Patrick. "Hey."

"Hi," you say breathlessly, a bright smile across your face while Patrick swings his arm over your shoulder. You seem happy, almost relieved that Tashi and Art were here as if you doubted their attendance. "Wow, it's been so long. You guys look great."

"Thanks," Tashi finally says, the words weighing on her tongue like lead.

"You look beautiful," Art tells you, and it's rushed as if he's been trying to keep it to himself but couldn't help it once he was close enough to you.

Before you can get a word out, another arm wraps around your waist, discreetly pushing Patrick away from you to slide into your side. Patrick lets out an annoyed groan, stepping aside as your fiancé squeezes you tightly and says, "She does, doesn't she? Hey, killer."

You turn to him, about to say something, maybe greet him back, maybe introduce him to everyone. But he doesn't let you, he's leaning closer until his lips lock with yours. It takes you by surprise—you flinch at first before finally letting him kiss you properly, his hand cupping the back of your neck, pushing you as close to him as humanly possible.

Art lets out a low, awkward sigh while watching it happen before him, and Patrick rolls his eyes, stepping back in search of a waiter for another drink.

He holds onto you like you're a prize he's won. Almost as if he's been competing with everyone in the world to finally hold you and show you off. As if that's all you had to offer.

You blink, clearly embarrassed, as you clear your throat to disperse the awkward tension in the air. "These are some, uh," you stumble over your words before nodding towards Art, Tashi, and Patrick, "some old friends from college. I'm sure you remember—"

He's interrupting you again, reaching out with the hand that's not on you to shake Tashi's hand. He holds it tightly, his thumb pressing against her wedding ring. "Tashi Duncan, how could I ever forget? Still beautiful as ever."

She has to force herself to smile, for your sake. "Good to see you too—"

"You know," your fiancé starts, cutting her off, "I still remember the time you told me to suck a bag of dicks 'cause I took up your court time. Best day of my life."

"Yeah," Patrick laughs. He's found another glass of champagne to sip on, and it's by his lips when he says, "who doesn't love getting cussed out by Tashi."

You wince. "Patrick—"

"No, no. He's right. It's one out of a million. I took it as a compliement," your fiancé says, glancing at Tashi again, his eyes darting up and down, lingering on her wedding ring once more before she finally pulls her hand out of his grasp. He spots the arm Tashi has been clinging to. "Art Donaldson, I'm a big fan."

Art stiffens as if taken by surprise. "Really?"

Your fiancé is nodding, and when Art glances your way for a split second, he tugs you closer. "You're incredible. Watching you play, it's like, woah! He's killin' it out there. Too bad you've retired though, would've loved to see you play longer."

There's a faint redness to Art's face when he nods. "Oh, thank you."

"I've always wondered if I'd turn out the way you did if I stuck to tennis." Then he laughs, nudging your side. "If only this one put me to work like Tashi did to you, maybe we would've competed in the US Open a few times."

You snort and shake your head, the idea of watching the two of them even standing on the court together amusing you. "You couldn't beat Art if you tried."

Your fiancé shrugs. "Maybe Patrick."

"Stop kidding yourself. You can't even beat your nephew and he's twelve."

He hums, turning so that he'll face you. He holds your waist with both hands, caressing you gently. "You sure know your way into a man's heart, baby," he says lowly before kissing you again. It's rough and messy, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. You shriek and press your hands against his chest. He doesn't let go immediately, peeking a glance towards the trio while kissing you.

Tashi feels a knot of disgust tightening in her stomach. The audacity of him to touch you like that in front of them, as if he’s marking his territory, sets her blood boiling just a little bit. God, did no one teach this guy any kind of etiquette?

She catches Art's expression out of the corner of her eye—his jaw is clenched as he turns to look away. Patrick's lips curl in a sneer, the glass in his hand trembling slightly. He fights the urge to throw it.

Your fiancé reaches down and gropes your ass over your silky white dress before finally separating from you.

You stand there, looking flushed and embarrassed, letting him whisper something in your ear before he walks off, joining a group of men who whistle and catcall at him as he nears them. Each jeer and hoot feels like a slap to the face.

"Uh, sorry," you apologize, unable to meet their eyes as you blindly wipe at your chin to fix your lipstick. "That was... I don't know what's gotten into him. He's not usually like this. He's, uh... he's great."

Patrick scoffs, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Yeah, real great."

Tashi can’t help but frown, her heart aching as she watches you fumble. "You can't possibly want to marry him," she wants to say, but the words get stuck in her throat. She can't bear to hear the answer, especially if it's the one she fears.

Art steps forward, his face a careful mask of neutrality. "If you’re happy," he says, but there's an edge to his tone, a challenge. The unspoken words hang heavily in the air: "Are you?"

You nod quickly, too quickly, as if trying to convince yourself as much as them. "Sure, sure. I mean, what’s not to be happy about? His family loves me. I'm retiring this year, and gonna spend more time with my family. Hopefully more time with some old friends?"

"Old friends?" Tashi repeats, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. The casual way you say it, as if years of distance and silence can be bridged with a few meetings, stings more than she cares to admit.

"Yeah, before I get busy with the baby."

"Baby?" Patrick's voice is sharp, almost disbelieving. "You’re pregnant?"

"What? No!" You quickly sputter, shaking your head. Then you pause, a thought crossing your mind and you lighten up a little bit, a hopeful smile gracing your face, "But I do want kids one day. I want three."

"Does he want kids?"

"We've talked about it, but he shuts it down all the time."

"You poor thing." Patrick puffs out, pinching your arm before reaching for your hand and leading you toward the bar. "Let's bring this conversation outside, ladies. I need a smoke. And you all need a drink stronger than his champagne."

The idea of fresh air and a strong drink is appealing. After grabbing a bottle of finely aged wine, the four of you make your way to the garden outside the grand hall. The shift from the stuffy indoor atmosphere to the cool night air is a relief. 

The moonlight casts a silvery glow over the meticulously maintained garden, illuminating the path with a soft, ethereal light. You glow in your pretty white dress, the fabric shimmering as you take a seat on a patch of grass near the rose bushes. The scent of roses mingles with the crisp night air, creating a tranquil yet poignant backdrop. You glance up at the three of them who stand there, watching you.

Tashi raises a brow as you take a long swig of the wine. She didn't remember you to be much of a drinker. 

"It's not that big of a deal," you say, passing her the bottle when she finally sits next to you. 

It's as if her movement had woken the two guys and then Art takes a seat on your other side while Patrick lies down on the grass a few feet away to light a cigarette. 

You pout, "If he doesn't want kids, then we won't have kids."

"But you want kids," Tashi reminds you, but it's more of a question as if she's wondering if that's truly what you want. Don't get her wrong, Tashi loves being a mother, she would kill anyone for Lily, but you wanting kids barely before confirming your retirement threw her off a little bit.

"Of course I do." You hiccup, reaching for the bottle again. "I'm not getting any younger. It's just... he'll come around."

"And if he doesn't?" Art asks, his voice gentle but probing.

"Can we not talk about that right now? I just want to get shitfaced and party."

"Now we're talkin'!" Patrick interjects, his grin wide as he takes a drag from his cigarette. The embers glow briefly in the dark.

"Come on, everybody gather." Patrick flicks his cigarette off to the rocky pathway and snags the bottle from Art's hands. He raises it, nodding at you with that same smirk he's had for years. Snarky, cocky, and yet endearing. "To celebrate new beginnings. Even if your future husband's a dick and can't make you cum nearly half as hard as I can. Good luck, babe."

The rest of you all make a noise of annoyance, rolling your eyes. "Seriously?"

"Shut the fuck up, Patrick," Art scoffs, though there's a faint smile tugging at his lips as you let a giggle slip out past your fake annoyance.

Patrick's smile only widens at the sound of his friends' protests. It reminds him of the good old years when his biggest worry was which shorts he'd wear to his next game. "Cheers!"

As the bottle is passed around, Tashi can't help but feel a pang of nostalgia mixed with bitterness. The comradery of the past clashes painfully with the reality of the present. Is this how things are going to be like now? Is this night a call for a truce, waving the white flag so that all of you could be friends again, now as adults, making plans for brunch and getting the kids together for birthday parties?

You take another sip from the bottle, your gaze drifting towards the moonlit sky. "To new beginnings," you repeat softly, though the hope in your voice is tinged with uncertainty.

Tashi leans back, her eyes lingering on you, a mix of longing and regret pooling in her heart. Art sits quietly beside her, lost in his thoughts, while Patrick’s laughter rings out, masking deeper sentiments beneath his forced cheerfulness. The chatter and music from the hall spill into the garden, the warm lights casting a golden glow over the scene. Patrick talks animatedly about the seasons he thinks he has left in him, and to Tashi's annoyance, you encourage him.

She shakes her head at the way Patrick's eyes light up, glancing at her with a knowing look. Despite her irritation, she can't deny the comfort of slipping back into their old dynamic.

Suddenly, Art hums thoughtfully. He has been mostly quiet, listening to the conversation with occasional quiet laughs. Now, as he puts down the empty bottle of wine, he looks at you, his eyes more alive than they have been in a long time. "I had a burger for the first time in years," he announces, a smile spreading across his face as if he is proud of it.

You gasp, perking up as you reach over to hold his hands. "How was it?"

"Amazing," Art says fondly, "like heaven inside a bun."

"You should've seen him," Tashi smirks, shoulder to shoulder with Patrick, playfully kicking Art. "He was drooling just looking at the menu."

He rolls his eyes, "I wasn't drooling." When you fall silent, he looks at you again, frowning. "You haven't had one in a while, have you?"

You shake your head, "No, I think the last time I had one was when we graduated."

Patrick scoffs, "Bullshit."

You laugh, "It's true! I've been very strict with my diet. And now that I've retired... I don't know..." You shrug, suddenly getting shy as Art starts tracing stars against the back of your hand. "There are so many options, I wouldn't know where to start."

"It doesn't have to be anything fancy," Tashi says.

"Pretty sure I saw an old diner on the way here," Patrick suggests. He stands, stretching and groaning before bending over to take Tashi's hand and help her up.

You sputter, watching them all start to stand before you. "Shut up, we're not driving, you're drunk."

"But sober enough to see how badly you want this," Patrick teases, waving a finger near your face and smirking. "You're drooling."

"No, I'm not!"

"Sure you are," Art joins in, pulling you up to your feet. He swipes a thumb at your chin, "Look right there, by your lip."

"Oh," Tashi grins, "I see it."

"Shut up, Tash, no you don't." The words fall from your lips before you can stop them. The old nickname fits too smoothly as if it hasn't been years since you've called her that. Tashi smiles, feeling like a teenager again, messing around with you. She starts to walk off, Art and Patrick following her while you stand there, dumbfounded and a little breathless from their teasing.

"Where are you going?"

"To get a burger?" Tashi shrugs, and she smirks at you, a mischievous smile that makes you wonder if any of you have ever grown up at all. "You coming or what?"

You try to be reasonable, "I can't just leave."

"We'll bring you back before anyone notices," Patrick bargains, jogging back to your side and taking your arm to lead you to the exit. "Lighten up, when was the last time you had some fun?"

You don't even look back.

You find yourself laughing, nodding as the four of you make your way out of the garden. The moonlight guides your steps, casting long shadows on the path.

The walk is a blur of laughter and shared stories, the kind of carefree joy that you haven't felt in years. Before long, you arrive at the diner. The neon lights buzz softly, casting a nostalgic glow over the parking lot. You can smell the greasy, comforting aroma of burgers and fries even before you step inside.

The few people in the diner stare, watching as what seems to be a runaway bride and three wedding guests stumble and giggle over each other, lips a little purple from the wine you've all had and ordering burgers to go.

Once you have your food, you all find yourselves sitting on the curb of the diner's parking lot, the warm night air wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. Patrick hands out the burgers, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous light as he makes a show of presenting yours to you. "First bite in... how many years?"

"Too many," You take the burger with a chuckle, unwrapping it and taking a bite. "Oh my God," you mumble around your mouthful, "this is amazing."

Tashi watches you, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Told you."

Art takes a bite of his own burger, nodding in agreement. "There's nothing like it."

You shake your head, going in for more, "This is the greatest thing I've put in my mouth."

Patrick, already halfway through his, lets out a loud laugh, "Yeah, I bet."

The parking lot felt like a little bubble of the past, untouched by the years that had separated you. It was strange how easy it was to fall back into the rhythm of your old friendships, how natural it felt to banter and laugh as if no time had passed at all.

Tashi rolls her eyes, though you don't even seem phased by Patrick's joke. "I can't even get mad," you say, swallowing, "I feel like I'm eighteen again."

"Tell me about it," Art agrees. Then he pauses for a beat, chewing on her burger a little slower before turning to you. "You know, this reminds me of that time... when, you know."

"Oh," You snort and nod, scrunching up your face at the memory. "Yeah. It kinda does."

"What?" Patrick looks between the two of you, raising his brow in interest. "What time?"

"It was a long time ago," you tell him.

"Like back in Stanford," Art explains, and then he points between Tashi and Patrick with his burger, "when you two were still a thing."

Tashi sits up straight now, her full attention on you and Art. "Oh, really?"

"It was that time Patrick came for a surprise visit in the middle of our girls' night," you say, nodding your head at her, hoping she'd catch up with the memory. "And you kicked me out of your dorm so you and Patrick could... you know."

Tashi nods. "Have some alone time." She finishes for you.

She remembers that night well: you were both nestled in the haven of her dorm room, the soft glow of the television casting gentle shadows on the walls as the movie played on. You were curled up under her covers, your bodies intertwined, legs tangled together in a comforting knot. The world outside ceased to exist in those moments, leaving just the two of you in your little cocoon of comfort.

Tashi can still feel the sensation of your fingers running through her hair, the tender, rhythmic motion soothing her in a way nothing else could. The warmth of your touch lingered on her scalp, your fingers traced lazy patterns, and she remembered the way her body instinctively relaxed into yours.

But then came the knock on the door, and she felt her heart jump at her throat as she swung her legs out from under the covers and padded softly to the door.

When she opened the door, there stood Patrick, his presence almost surreal. He was holding a bouquet of carefully picked-out flowers, their vibrant colours contrasting sharply with the dim light of the hallway. His smirk was both nervous and charming

"You kicked her out?" Patrick gasps, and Tashi gives him a blank stare. He's acting as if he wasn't even there, as if he didn't stand by her desk while watching her scramble to clean up the mess the two of you made in her dorm and shove you out the door before locking it.

Patrick shrugs, that stupid smirk painted on his lips again before he finishes his burger. "Would've let you stay if it were up to me," he tells you, "The more, the merrier."

"No way," you poke your tongue at the inside of your cheek. "She wanted you all for herself."

"Please, I would've been too distracted with you to even give him my time of day," Tashi admits. "I did you a favor, Patrick. Saved you from blue balls."

He holds a hand to his heart. "I'm so honored."

"But anyway," you start, "while I was walking back to my dorm I bumped into Art, who got stood up on a date."

Patrick blinks, turning to Art. "You got stood up?"

"Was it that girl from marketing?" Tashi asks.

Art's cheeks start to turn red, the flush growing from his neck and up to his ears at the attention. "Yeah, she, uh, she bailed on me last minute."

"I remember you telling me the date went well," Patrick says. "That you guys went out late, bought takeout... you made out in your car," Then, to fuck with him, he adds, "You came in your pants 'cause she kissed your neck. Remember?"

"And that did happen," Art confesses begrudgingly, glaring at Patrick while Tashi laughs. "It’s just... it wasn't with her..."

"It... it was me," you admit.

Tashi wishes she could say she's surprised, but it's nearly impossible because anyone who knew you back in college knew very well about the big crush you harboured for a certain blonde. She knew the way you swooned after him, even if you never tried to admit it because it was too embarrassing.

"Wait, so," Tashi starts, poking at your side and drawing a nervous giggle from you. It makes her smile. "Is Art that guy you told me about, with the puppy eyes and pretty smile?"

"Okay," you puff out, blushing, "I did not say puppy eyes."

"You think I have puppy eyes?" Art asks you, his gaze softening.

When you take a few seconds too long to answer, Patrick claps his hands together and swings his arm over yours and Art's shoulders, pulling the two of you closer to him. "Aw," he teasingly coos at the two of you getting all flustered, "you think he has puppy eyes."

"It was so long ago," you say, running your hands over the soft fabric of your dress. "I don't even remember."

"I'm so sure you don't," Patrick hums, a knowing look in his eyes before he presses a sloppy kiss against your cheek.

You groan, shoving your hand in his face to push him off before you stumble to stand on your feet again, wiping your cheek from his spit. "You're disgusting," you huff, but there's no real bite in your words because there's a faint smile threatening to appear at the corners of your lips. 

You stand there for a beat or two, brushing off your dress and feeling the weight of the night settling in. You stare down at the three of them sitting on the curb, the neon lights of the diner buzzing behind you. You can see the hall where your engagement party is from where you stand; you almost don't want to go back.

"Okay," you tuck your lower lip between your teeth as you hesitate, "this... this has been fun."

"Don't leave yet," Tashi says while Art's smile drops, his face falling in disappointment.

"Yeah," Patrick rushes to stand, reaching for you, "the party was just getting started."

"I really have to get back," you step away. "If anyone finds out I left, I'll hear about it for days. This has been great. Like, seriously, I don't think I've ever laughed this hard since before..." You trail off, your tongue getting tied as you glance at Tashi, then at her knee, covered by the length of her dark purple dress. You clear your throat. "Well, uh, I better go. But thank you again, for the beer and the burgers and the memories. I hope you guys can make it to the wedding."

You start to walk away before they can say anything. Like, on purpose, as if you know that if they tried to make you stay and ditch your party, you would. You would cave to their defences.

The sound of your heels is deafening. Tashi watches you go, she watches how you wrap your arms around yourself, and it all feels too similar to how she watched you go all those years ago and never chased after you. 

"Don’t marry him," Tashi stands from the curb. She's shaky on her feet, taking long strides to walk past Patrick and hoping to catch up to you. She sees you freeze in your steps, barely out of the parking lot. You turn to look at her quickly, face falling in shock at her demand.

"What?" Your voice is quiet, hoping that your ears are betraying you.

Tashi slows down once she is close enough, the distance between you is almost nothing but the gap feels like miles. The red and blue lights from the neon sign blend into a deep purple against your skin, casting an ethereal glow that makes this moment feel suspended in time. She watches your face, sees the way your brows knit together, the flicker of anger and confusion in your eyes.

Her heart is pounding, the blood rushing in her ears almost drowning out her voice. But she forces herself to speak, her voice low and urgent. "Don’t marry him," she says again, each word feeling like it's being ripped from her chest. Her resolve, which had held firm all these years, finally crumbles.

Getting Patrick back into her life had been one of the most complicated, tangled pains she had ever undertaken. The late-night calls, the awkward meetings, the painstakingly slow rebuilding of trust between herself and Art. 

None of it had been easy.

Yet, even with Patrick back, there had always been something missing—a void that only you could fill.

She looks into your eyes, her gaze unwavering, despite the tears welling up. "Please," she pleads, her voice breaking. "Please, don't marry him." The words hang heavy in the air, a desperate plea that carries years of longing and regret. She knows that having you back won't make up for the lost time, and won't magically fix all the mistakes and missed opportunities. But she can at least try, can at least fight for the chance to make things right.

"Tashi, you can't possibly be asking me to—"

"It’s not worth it," she tells you anyway, her voice trembling with the weight of unspoken truths. She knows it’s a risk, a gamble she's taking by laying her heart bare, but she can’t hold back any longer. The years of resentment, of silent longing, bubble to the surface, fueled by the sight of you with someone else's ring on your finger. It's a bitter pill to swallow, the realization that she resented you not for leaving, but for never coming back. 

Why didn't you come back?

Tashi's words hang heavy in the air, a desperate plea born from years of unspoken desires and regrets. "Both of you want different things anyway. You don't love him," she continues, her voice raw with emotion, "it's not gonna last. One day you're gonna wake up in the middle of the night and realize I'm right. You'd hate to admit it, but I will be right. I am right. He doesn't deserve you. He's no good for you."

You scoff, "And you are?"

"You said it yourself," she presses on, her voice barely above a whisper, "You've never laughed the way you do with us. And you kept in touch with Patrick, so that's gotta mean something." It's a feeble attempt to grasp at straws. "Marrying him will just be another excuse, another stupid reason. I thought you were better than that."

Then she remembers that night before you left for London, back in 2012. It's like a distant memory now, a flicker of what could have been. The air was thick with anticipation, the tension palpable as you stood on the precipice of something new. She remembers the way your eyes met hers after your exchange with Art at the hotel bar, a brief greeting with an old friend, both of you at the peaks of your careers. It is a silent exchange of longing and regret. For a moment, it felt like time stood still, like the world was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

She remembers the smell of your perfume, the bitterness of the drink you were having and how she could taste it when she kissed you; tongue running over your teeth, nails clawing at skin, hair tangled between fingers, hot breaths and unkept promises and false apologies and a night of regret.

And then the morning came, and with it, you had to leave. And she never stopped you.

"Tashi… I can't just throw this all away for you. For any of you. You were the one who told me to leave."

"I know."

"Because you know everything, right? Because you know he's not good for me, you know it all."

"I know you."

"No, you don’t," you say, your voice tinged with hurt. "Not anymore.”

Tashi huffs, shaking her head before she reaches out, cupping your cheeks gently in her hands. Her lips hover over yours for a moment, a silent plea hanging in the air between you. She waits, her heart pounding in her chest, for you to make a move—to kiss her, to push her away, anything.

You gaze into her eyes, tears glistening in the dim light, before finally closing the distance between you. The kiss is tender, and bittersweet, a culmination of years of unspoken longing and regret. It's a brief moment of solace amid chaos.

Your hands dig into the nape of her neck, where the short ends of her dyed hair tickle the skin of your wrist. The heat of your engagement ring nearly burns her, the edge of the diamond scraping against her skin.

When you pull away, breathless, Tashi fears this will be the last time she will see you. 

"Tashi, this doesn’t change anything," you say, your voice trembling.

"It changes everything," she whispers, her fingers tracing the line of your jaw. "You know it does."

But you step back, breaking the contact, the distance between you growing with each passing moment. "I have to go," you murmur, the weight of the decision heavy on your shoulders. "I need to think."

As you walk away, Tashi watches you go, her heart heavy with uncertainty. She clings to the memory of that fleeting moment, a glimmer of hope in the darkness. 

Back in the hotel room, an uneasy silence settles among the trio. Tashi steps out of the shower, her mind a whirlpool of conflicting emotions. The press of your lips still lingers on her own, a persistent buzz that crawls under her skin. 

As she rubs lotion into her arms, she takes her time, methodically moving over each inch of her skin as if she could somehow rub away the confusion and yearning. She finishes her skincare routine, staring at herself in the mirror, almost meeting the eyes of the eighteen-year-old girl who had her whole life ahead of her. It's a constant chant in her head not to dwell in the past. 

She has to focus—she needs to find a way to pull Patrick Zweig out of the top 200 ranks and get him qualified for the US Open by the time the next season starts.

Speaking of the devil, when Tashi steps out of the bathroom, she finds Patrick lounging on the loveseat by the open window. Naturally, his shirt has found itself a home on the floor, and a cigarette dangles from his lips.

He perks up when she walks out, sitting up to greet her, "Don't beat yourself up."

Tashi rolls her eyes and climbs into the bed, letting herself sink into the soft comforter. "Shut the fuck up, Patrick. And put that shit out."

"I'm just saying," he shrugs, taking one last drag before flicking the cigarette out the window, grinning when he hears Tashi scoff. "She's a stubborn little shit," he says as the hotel door clicks open and Art walks in. Patrick hums, "Probably only marrying him to piss us off anyway. Been trying to talk her out of it for months. Never listens."

"She might listen to Tashi," Art says, turning to his wife with a hint of optimism in his voice. "Lily's asleep, by the way."

"Right, because my word is stronger than both of yours," Tashi retorts, pulling the blanket over her legs.

Art and Patrick glance at each other before nodding, "Yes."

"Well, yeah."

They all sit in silence for a while, each lost in their own little bubble. The hotel room is quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioner and the occasional rustle of the bedspread. 

Art joins Tashi on the bed, absently flipping through the channels on the television, the remote clicking softly in his hand. Beside him, Tashi pretends to read a book, her eyes scanning the same sentence over and over again without really absorbing the words. Meanwhile, Patrick rummages through the mini fridge, the sound of bottles clinking and wrappers crinkling breaking the stillness.

A quiet knock on the door makes the three of them freeze, their heads snapping up in unison. They exchange hesitant glances, each wondering if they imagined it. Then three raps against the wood sound again, more insistent this time. Patrick scrambles to the door, Art and Tashi close behind him, their curiosity piqued and their hearts pounding.

Patrick swings the door open, and there you are, a sight for sore eyes. You're still in the same dress, though one of the straps has fallen off your shoulder, and your makeup is smudged around your eyes. You hold your phone close, dropping it from your ear.

"I tried calling," you say, turning your phone so they can see Patrick's contact, a simple 'pat' with a cute tennis ball emoji next to his nickname. "You never answered."

"My phone died." He shrugs.

You let your hand fall to your front, where your fingers pull on each other nervously. Tashi can't help but notice the lack of a ring on your finger all of a sudden. She raises her brows at you, a knowing look flashing across her face before she tells you, "Something's changed."

You roll your eyes and step into the room, sliding between Art and Patrick easily. "A lot has changed." You walk until you reach the middle of the room. 

It's a big hotel room, not nearly as big as the ones Art and Tashi are used to staying in, but big and luxurious nonetheless. You fit in perfectly with your white gown and styled hair, a vision of elegance even in your dishevelled state.

You turn, facing the three of them again. "I hope whatever offer you guys were hinting at earlier still stands... I don't exactly have anywhere else to stay, unless I want to hear my mother telling me how she was right the entire night."

Tashi smirks. "You know I'm about to tell you the same thing too, right?" She closes the space between the two of you, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. Her nails brush against your jaw in a feather-light touch until her fingers pause below your lips.

"Yeah, I know."

You don't seem too upset about it. Instead, you're grinning, letting Tashi push her thumb between your lips. The gesture is intimate, charged with unspoken emotion. You're standing face-to-face when she says, "I told you so."

She leads you to sit on the bed, and you let her, nearly tripping over your heels before you land on the soft duvets. Tashi leans down, her nose brushing against yours, and you swallow your heart racing.

"You were right," you murmur. It's hard to maintain eye contact when your skin is buzzing with heat and when there's so much going on in the depths of her eyes that it dizzies you. "I hate it, though."

Her nose is cold against yours, a sharp contrast to the warmth of her breath. You let your eyes fall shut as she slowly traces patterns under your chin, pressing her thumb harder into your mouth before pulling it out. She catches the side of your face with it, making a mess with your spit.

She smiles, "I know you do."

Instinctively, and embarrassingly, there's a shiver rolling down your spine.

Tashi releases a small chuckle, and then, after a final moment, her lips fill in the small gap between you both. You sink into it immediately, heart rejoicing as her lips, warm and smooth, explore your own.

It's a little fumbly, nervous and making you tremble under her hands. Tashi loves every second of it. Her fingers grip your face tighter, mouth pressing to yours with more hunger as you wind your fingers into her hair and sigh. Between gasped breaths and soft sounds of enjoyment, she slips her tongue along your lower lip, and so you open your mouth a little wider.

Tashi ends up straddling you, making out like you're both teenagers again, putting on a show for Art and Patrick. The exhilarating butterflies twirling in your stomach match the memories, too. 

You moan softly as she pulls away from your mouth, her attention shifting to your neck. As you watch Patrick and Art make their way to sit next to you on the bed, the bed dipping, you tilt your head to the side and open up your throat to Tashi. You whimper as you feel her lips drag over your exposed skin. She nibbles and sucks until she finds the sensitive part that makes you cry out.

"Fuck," you whimper. You tug on her air-dried curls, coaxing her back up to your lips so you can enjoy the feeling of her mouth on yours. Tashi sighs, and you can feel her smiling into it while beckoning Art and Patrick to join in.

Their lips are on you in a split second, with Art pressing soft, ticklish kisses against your collarbone, and Patrick sliding his tongue from your shoulder to the back of your ear. He's moaning at the taste of you, sucking a bruise under your jaw while digging his hand into the back of your hair. 

He slowly starts to bring his sloppy kisses to your mouth, lips brushing against Tashi's and your own before she draws back. You whine, pouting as you watch her take a few steps away before making herself comfortable in the cushioned seats by a small dining table. You can't pout for too long, because now Patrick is kissing you, tugging softly at your hair until your back arches.

His tongue presses against yours, pressing as far back as he can reach, swallowing your every moan and whimper. You bring your hand up to scratch at his beard, then run your nails over his scalp. This is when Art starts to get a little bolder by running his hands up and down your thighs, pulling and pulling the long skirt of your dress until he reaches the end of it and he can touch your skin and take off your heels, tossing them aside somewhere.

Patrick traps your lower lip between his teeth, watching it bounce back into its place as he leans back just the slightest bit. You break apart with a whimper. Your half-lidded eyes meet his, then flick down to the trail of spit strung between your glistening lips. He stares at you, cheeks a little red as he smirks, "I've missed this. Missed you."

You smile, breathless as Art's hand makes its way up higher and higher and closer to your heat, his mouth is relentless with its attack at your neck. He grinds his crotch against the side of your leg and you cradle the back of his head with your other hand.

"You saw me last week, Patrick."

"Last week?" Art pulls away. His lips are parted, eyes a little dazed but focused enough to stare between you and Patrick in confusion. Tashi smirks from where she sits and shifts in her place.

"We're not all perfect, Art." You groan, rolling your eyes as Patrick laughs, reaching over you to start pulling down Art's pants who shifts in his place to let him. Once they're off, he looks at you, and it's embarrassing how fast you tangle together, melding together into a pathetic heap on the bed for Tashi and Patrick to see. 

Your lips move in tandem, his soft, pouty lips slitting against yours with ease as you lead his hands to your chest and shove them under your dress.

Art squeezes and fondles your breasts over your bra, his hips jerking against your leg again, almost desperate as his boner presses against the fabric of your dress as it has fallen down again.

Tashi startles you as she settles behind, one knee on the bed while her other long leg steadies her on the carpeted floor below. You let her tilt you backward, parting you from Art and she draws you into an upside-down kiss. The salacious kiss leaves your legs parting for the two men beside you. 

Patrick makes quick work of taking that damn dress off of you and you sputter out a pathetic moan when Art's soft hands tease your hardening nipples once Patrick gets half of it off.

Your dress eventually falls into a heap on the floor in front of the bed, you’d matched with it a white paired set underneath. 

"No fucking way," You peek one eye open slightly to see Patrick scowling while Art runs his hands everywhere he can reach, across your stomach, your thighs, under your boobs, down your back. 

Patrick tilts his head and groans, "I can't believe you wore this shit for him."

Your hand cups Tashi's jaw to deepen the kiss as you both ignore Patrick, only Art snorting out a laugh as he tugs his shirt over his head. 

Patrick slots himself between your open legs, stopping just a breath short of your aching cunt to nip teasingly at your soft inner thigh before dragging his mouth up to your neck again. He revels in the moans he's able to draw from you as he finally comes to caress your face. 

You pull away from Tashi and gasp in a breath. "Kiss me, Pat," You bite your lip, feeling your heart race as he eyes you up so openly. 

"Beg me," He counters with a quirked brow, challenging you. 

Your nose crinkles, "I'm not doing that."

"I'm not kissing you, then."

"Shut up and kiss her, Patrick," Tashi groans, attached to Art. She holds his face the same way she did with you, pulling him closer and letting the man crawl to her. But she's glaring at Patrick with venom behind it you know she can’t mean when she's trembling under Art's gentle touch as he slips off her silky nightgown.

"Come here," You beckon Patrick closer with a fiendish look in your half-lidded eyes.

"Yes, ma'am." Patrick nods, dazed as he obliges. "Anything you want, beautiful," His voice slightly slurs as the space between you diminishes once again. "I'll do anything for you," His husky voice drapes around your name like velvet as it's whispered against your plush lips.

Your hands easily find themselves tangled in Patrick's curly hair and tug him to your lips with aching want. You dive in immediately, lips meshing against and, eventually, catching against his chapped lips. 

A moan escapes from your throat and he uses it as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. From there, it's another flurry of saliva, tongue and entirely too much white-hot pressure building below. 

When you break for a breath, a string of saliva stretches between each of your red, puffy lips. Patrick groans at the sight and pulls you in for a slower, raw kiss that leaves you slick and trembling for more. When you pull apart again, Patrick plants a sweet kiss on Art's mouth before focusing back solely on you, his hand slowly approaching your white thong.

When he starts to rub, you moan into his mouth and start trailing your hand to his crotch, palming his dick. Patrick reciprocates easily and tugs at your lower lip with an impish look in his eyes. 

Lips attack your neck again, pulling you higher up on the bed. You hear pants and clothes being shed from every angle around you before you're surrounded again, hands everywhere.

While Art pulls Patrick into a kiss, Tashi cups your face again and draws you into a gentle one as you settle between her legs, your back to her chest. You rest your head on Tashi's shoulder as you heave out another breath, her hands travelling from your navel to tracing shapes on your clit, over your wet panties, spreading your legs apart with her own. 

"Please, Tash," you whimper as her fingers curl around the edge of the fabric and tug so it strains against your leaking cunt perfectly. She then decides to skim a whisper of her touch against your pulsing ache. 

You gape as Patrick wraps his hand around Art's dick, stoking it, and he lets out the prettiest little whine. Patrick slowly works his way down Art's body, running his tongue between each curve of his muscles, collecting the sweat that's been building on his skin before wrapping his mouth around him, taking all of it in one insatiable bob of his head.

Tashi's nails tickle lightly up your stomach, then in the valley between your breasts and then back down again. It has you spiralling, arching your back as she presses a kiss at your neck.

"You're being so good," she coos into your ear. Your name is only a breath out of her mouth, and she's edging your clit with a gentle roughness that could only come from a woman of her calibre. Tashi pulls your panties aside and flicks and flits about your dripping cunt like she already knows how to make you come undone.

It makes you tremble. You'd sworn up and down earlier about how Tashi didn't know you anymore, and here she is, proving to you that she still does, that she knows every curve and divot of your body, that she still knows what makes you whimper and twitch.

Your hand quickly reaches behind you, between the heat of your back and her body and finds her clit and you try to emulate how she's making you weak. Each quiet gasp you earn from her has you moaning back tenfold under her saccharine trance and she quickly starts pumping two fingers into you.

One particular flick of Tashi's thumb on your clit coupled with her lips gliding against and sucking your own in a wanton kiss sends you over the edge. You moan and cum, back arching as you relentlessly force Tashi's hand against your cunt, searching for more delicious friction. 

She takes you all, and lets you ride it all out on her fingers while swallowing every moan you let out in a lewd, wet kiss. Art and Patrick moan appreciatively at the two of you, then focus back on each other.

Before you're able to come down from your high, Art's shoving his come down Patrick's greedy throat. He swallows it all, pulling off Art's red-tipped cock with a vulgar pop that creates a trail of saliva in its wake. 

Patrick smiles down at you and leans closer, and you think he's about to kiss you but then he swerves and kisses Tashi instead, who removes her hand from your cunt and slowly works it up his thigh until she cups his balls and gives them a gentle squeeze. He moans into her mouth, winking at you amid his impromptu make-out session you were tempted to join.

You shimmy back and turn on your stomach, positioning yourself between Tashi's long tanned legs. "Can I eat you out?" You ask while kissing up her leg, and you want to hear how much she needs you. You bite at your bottom lip as you nuzzle into her juicy cunt. "Tashi?" You look up at her from where your face is pressed against her. Her sweet smell makes you sigh as you tease your tongue with her hip bone. "Please, Tash, let me taste you." 

"Yeah, go for it," Comes her breathless plea.

You finally pull her lips apart, revelling in how she squirms against your hold on her hips. 

You're on your knees, trapped arching between Tashi's long legs when you hear Art clear his throat. You give one long lick up Tashi's twitching cunt before turning around with her slick dribbling down onto your chin to where Art has sidled up behind you.

Art crawls closer to you, "Can I touch you, beautiful?" He tilts your chin up as he awaits your answer. 

When you nod, he easily descends upon your lips, placing a sure hand behind your head as he deepens the kiss into something absolutely filthy. As soon as you break apart, he kisses your shoulder, then down your spine.

Tashi guides you back to her. You allow her nails to tangle in your locks as she forces your head back down against her arching hips.

"Shit," Patrick huffs, rough hands reaching for the globes of your ass while Art's smoother ones trail up your spread, inner thighs. Tashi tugs at his dick a little harder, which has him panting against her lips.

Tashi gasps as you flick at her clit then quickly move to tease her entrance with the tip of your tongue. You flatten your tongue, dragging it across her length and repeat the motion until she whines for you to stop. 

You slurp the combination of drool and slick as you pull away with a pussy-drunk smile. She meets it with a panting, dazed one and removes her hand from your hair to push her own out of her eyes while Patrick sucks at her neck.

"Ah!" You startle forward into Tashi's tits as Art finally breeches your entrance with his index finger. 

"Eat our girl out, Art," Tashi motions for Art to lie down under your spread form to get a better angle. You can't deny that the new nickname drives you a little crazy. "Show her she's ours."

Art's soft hands draw another moan out of you as they assuredly grip your hips to keep you in place while he unleashes teasing licks against your pussy.

Tashi draws you back to her. You'd know that look anywhere—she's ready to cum.

"I want you," Her breath hitches around your name while your tongue steals the rest of her coherent words until she's a withering mess under your touch. 

Her pornstar-worthy moans ring out across the room like a beautiful symphony. Tashi's wanton noises coupled with the wet whines you're unleashing against her folds until the two of you create the lewdest duet this hotel's ever heard. 

She arches against the bedframe as she tells you her near release, tugging at your hair as she draws closer and closer to the edge.

Panting, she draws you against her lips for a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss. 

"Fuck, Tashi," You groan against her plump lips, feeling your own impending orgasm drawing near. "You're so fucking hot, I-"

She cuts off your rambling with another wet kiss. Her tongue flicks out to tease yours before sucking it into her mouth with a lewd slurp. Your hand works alongside hers to leave her shaking and whimpering against your lips as she comes undone by your hand. You smack her cunt lightly, eating the groan she feeds into your open mouth as she rides it out.

Tashi eats your moans as they echo against your messy tangling of lips and tongues.

Art's fingers start to pick up a pace as Patrick, feeling left out, starts thrusting his throbbing cock in the middle of your sapphic kiss with Tashi. You eye the two with half-lidded eyes as you share Patrick's cock with her. After only a few moments in your mouth, Patrick pulls out and releases across Tashi's and your expectant tongues.

"So fucking good to me," Patrick pants as he splatters the last of his come across your faces with a shaky groan. "Best fucking orgasm ever, swear it," He says as he encases his lips around yours, swapping his cum between your mouths before moving to Tashi to do the same.

Art moves out from under you, offering your knees relief as he lays you back against Tashi's stomach to fuck into you.

It's a slow and cruel pace, only made crueller by how Patrick and Tashi touch you like they already know where you want to be touched. Each brunette takes a side, Patrick sucking your tit into his mouth while Tashi's mouth draws you in for a kiss. Her nails tickle at your other erect nipples until you're arching off of her and into Art's thrusts, making him whimper.

"Just like that," Art whines your name. "You're so fucking tight."

It's when Patrick and Tashi move their attention down to your clit that you know you're fucked. Patrick spreads your folds with two fingers, watching as intensely as Art does as his cock disappears in and out of your hole.

"He could've never made you feel like this, right?" Tashi rasps. "He has no strategy, no real game. Just a fucking waste of space. Could never make you feel this good, this loved."

You don't need her to say his name, you know what she means. You're panting, shaking your head against her shoulder. "Never."

"Told ya," Patrick laughs into your skin. "Make her cum, Art. C'mon, man." 

"Fuck- please," You whimper, nodding. "I need to come, baby-" Without warning, you arch off of Tashi. Neither she nor Patrick stops their jerks against your clit as you gasp, eyes rolling back in your head with the thrum of a second wave creeping up on you with a steady building heat. Waves of pleasure roll over you as the tantalizing sensations become too much. You come loudly, arching pathetically off the bed as you desperately reach for Art, to hold him.

You're wriggling in Tashi and Patrick's arms as Art pulls out and releases across your expanding and retracting stomach as you pant out the remnants of your orgasm. 

"Shit," He moans, and his voice sends waves of aftershock across your body while his steady hands draw you against his naked chest for a toe-curling kiss.

You'd never been happier to have invited Patrick Zweig to your engagement party.

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[yuquinzel]

— nobody’s business.

feat. itoshi sae. a little sensual. 700+ wc. self indulgent :> publicizing your relationship with japan’s star player.

itoshi sae is holding onto your hand, a little more firmly than ever before. teal eyes out ahead on the field in front of you both searching for something you can’t name. you follow his gaze— it’s on the bleachers first, then hastily eyeing every player on the pitch. it’s on the spectators one second, then it’s on the cameras panning and zooming in from every direction.

sae grimaces when one such camera directs at the two of you, pulling you behind and away from the prying eyes of the media eager to catch just a glimpse of japan’s prized player and his partner who he keeps oh so hidden from the world.

he’s never denied being in a relationship. never tried to refute dating allegations with a non-celebrity, never once fazed to address the blurred pictures of him making out with someone in his car, never tried to hide the bruises on his neck that catch the eye of every fan leaving nobody wondering what it really is. he knows what they’ll do once they really know who you are— the paparazzi wouldn’t fucking leave you alone, following you everywhere. magazines would be willing to kill to get just one word from you and twist it to their likings. sae’s discreet with his words though, never gives them something to work with.

it was not until you addressed it to him yourself. just another article surfacing all around social media. something that had left a bitter taste on your tongue. ‘ itoshi sae and his supposed girlfriend ! ’ — it’s a picture of sae with a model you don’t know the name of, attending an event you weren’t invited to. he looks clearly unimpressed. but it helps little when every single comment under the article is how of well the two look together.

how well itoshi sae looks with someone who’s not you.

“you’ve already denied the rumours, so then why...” you’d said, avoiding his gaze for reasons you can’t pinpoint. “they always make up shit to write when their lukewarm ass doesn’t have real shit to sell.” he’d answered, “don’t think much about it. they’ll forget about it soon.”

when you didn’t say anything back, sae had known what he was to do. he’d known what it was you were asking of him with your silence. and for you, he was more than willing.

he’s sure a few cameras would’ve captured him with you by now, your face clear and beautiful for everyone to see and engrave on their papers and headlines. they’ll adorn you with pretty words and pretty adjectives, and he’ll have to share you with the eyes of the world now. something about it leaves a bitter flavor on his tongue, so he kisses you instead to taste the sweetness of your lips.

“don’t take your eyes off me,” he rasps between the kisses, one hand coming to cradle your jaw while the other hooks around your waist. “look at only me.”

“only you.” you say and sae breathes you in. he leans down closer, lips moving against yours more desperately than ever. he’s pleased with your answer. phantom touches of his hands slithering under your shirt and tracing the skin of your abdomen.

you forget about the match about to start in a mere minutes, about the cameras still desperate to get one glimpse of this very scene, and if you do remember that his teammates would march out any second now— sae makes you forget about everyone else when he tugs on your bottom lip lightly, “afraid? ” he challenges you with a long, languid glide of his tongue, “of what? I’m the only thing on your mind. ”

later when the game ends with the final pass from sae leading to a goal, the camera pans to you sitting in the vip section and cheering for sae and his team. another pans to sae when he notices you on the screen. sae ignores the roars of the crowd, ignores his teammates gathering around him, screaming for their win. he looks at you, waiting intently. you know what he’s asking of you — did you watch? he shifts forward ever so slightly — was i good?

you’re smiling as you mouth a clear I’m so proud of you — and only then does sae feels like he’s won.

© yuquinzel2023 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

why am I posting this it's a year old 🧘🏻‍♀️🧘🏻‍♀️

[chuluoyi]

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 11:07 P.M 」

divorce scare apology fic🤞🏻 yes people, in the spirit of april 1, it’s gojo who is having dreams :)) and i promise you it’s straight up comfort fic~

a part of gojo's love entries

you’ve known something is bugging satoru as he hasn’t been teasing the heck out of you for these past three days.

and you were proven true when tonight, on your marital bed, he said—

“so… i’ve been thinking…” he started, seemingly deep in thought, playing with your hair. “oh, more like it’s because of this one bad dream…”

“what are you on about?” you raised an eyebrow. okay, you knew something was up with him, but him being a bit skittish made you a bit worried.

“umm, yeah. so, the other day i had this dream about us in tokyo district court—”

“district court—?”

“—getting a divorce, yeah.”

your eyes rounded, and satoru could feel himself almost regretting his words seeing your stunned expression, so he added a band-aid—

“no, it was just a dream! i’m not divorcing you, okay?!”

however, your expression had soured, as you looked down, visibly heartbroken. alarmed, satoru immediately pulled you to his chest.

“oh, ooh— there, there,” he soothed you, stroking your hair. “sweets, no. never. okay? i’m just telling you, just like what you did the other day.”

you had a dream of him cheating on you once, but this was wholly different.

“you’re the worst,” you accused, and despite yourself, you felt an ache in your chest. “how could such thought even cross your mind— that you dream about it?”

“if i can pick my dream… i’ll pick the memory from our honeymoon— precisely when i ripped your black and pink lingerie off and made you scream my name, you know that.”

you huffed, burying your face in his chest. “hmph. explain.”

satoru smiled, finding you so incredibly precious. silly wifey.

he proceeded as he pat your back. “nothing really, i’m still bitter too! no way in hell! but then i started thinking… what would you do in 0.001% chance of us being divorced?”

you pulled away, growling. “…so there’s still a chance—!”

“noooo! that’s statistically impossible! aren’t we having a late night talk? we’re always talking about imaginary scenarios at night, aren’t we?!”

what was the point of this? it was only upsetting you with each second.

“how could you ask me that?” you glared at him resentfully. “if we’re divorced, then—” you grabbed his hand and placed it on your belly. “what about baby? do you not want to see him anymore?”

and in that moment it seemed like he just realized it too as he sheepishly scratched his head, mouth gaping. “ah—”

his response caused your hormones to stir, and combined by your disbelief, you spitefully threw his hand away and turned to your side, refusing to face him.

“if you dare to divorce me, i’ll move out japan at a moment’s notice,” you spat out, crossing your arms. “i won’t let you see my baby— and i’ll put a restraining order on you too, just so you see.”

“whoa, wait—”

“or i can also jump from yasohachi bridge and then become a curse—i’ll haunt you to your dying days!”

“—?! you can’t do that!”

“oh, i can also remarry! i’ll marry ichiji so fast and by the time the baby is born, your kid will have his name instead!”

“ichi— hey! that’s insulting! i would’ve forgiven if it was nanami, but ichiji?!”

“shut up! you’re— you’re annoying!”

in hindsight, this wasn’t something you should get this much worked up for. satoru was obviously just being his dense self and you knew it, but somehow the thought of him suddenly not by your side anymore hurt you— and perhaps your unstable hormones played a part too.

. . . but then his strong arms wrapped around you in that instant, enveloping you in his warm and reassuring embrace from behind. “hey… sweets, don’t be mad…”

“…”

“if you do, baby will also be—”

“you are making us mad.”

“okay, okay.” satoru sighed, his right palm reaching out to caress your five-month baby bump, and his voice was tinted with slight regret as he replied, “sorry…”

you melted a bit, but still gave him the cold shoulder, showing how cross you were that he brought it up in the first place.

and both of you stayed that way for a while, and you started to get sleepy, until you heard him muttering—

“still… whatever you do,” his voice sounded strained, and it made you awake again. “even when i’m not here… you can’t get yourself hurt, alright?”

“what does that mean?” you finally turned towards him, your eyes shone with slight panic. “what do you mean with you not being here?”

“nothing, sweetheart.” satoru grinned, pinching your cheek. “just saying—since i’m away often, don’t do anything reckless, you can get hurt.”

“don’t put it as if you’re going to go some place far away.” you didn’t know what you were spouting now, but you were tired and just didn’t want to pursue this conversation any longer.

you bit your lip, not looking at him. “or… i’ll get sad.”

seeing you so vulnerable and open like this made satoru realize that as much as he needed you to stay sane, you also needed him. the clarity stirred something within him, causing warmth to rapidly spread in his chest.

and he felt soft. so soft for you. and he adored you, more than anyone else in this wretched world.

“aw, look at my baby girl.” your husband cradled you close to him with a wide grin, patting you soothingly, his heart fluttering. “how can i leave you be a single mother? i’m here, yeah? always.”

and you believed him. otherwise, you were willing to risk it all just to get him home, by your side.

you smushed your face into his chest, ignoring your burning face. “hmph, being a single mother isn’t that bad. i can still drain your wealth.”

“huh?! wait, you just said you’ll be sad without me!”

and you thought, being in his embrace is the most comforting place of all.

epilogue

“by the way, i just realized…” satoru fixed his frown on you accusingly in the next morning. “how is your taste in men so bad? why ichiji as your first pick?”

“uh,” you were at a loss of words, totally not expecting this discussion on a brand new morning. “because… he’s kind? he’s easiest to sway—”

“so you’re saying… you can seduce him easily?!”

“…sort of? but you’re right, i should go for nanami. he’s way good-looking. or his apprentice… what’s his name again? ino takuma—”

“nanami? ino?! wait a minute…! y-you’re my wife… but you’re also thinking about which man is easier to seduce and which is more attractive?!”

“uh— you’re the one asking first!”

“still! so you do think about them! about weaker, lesser men who are not me!”

“nanami is not—!”

“hoh?! so it’s nanami, huh!?”

“don’t you dare to start anything, gojo satoru,” you hissed. “you said my taste in men is bad. so that includes you too.”

“wha?!”

[danveration]

Sleep well, amour.

Parings: Alastor x reader

Summary: You’ve been very intrested in Alastor ever since you met him. He invites you to see his recording studio, which you accept. Then you ask if you can stay and listen to him host! While listening, you fall asleep. How does he react?

Word count: 2844

Warnings: Ummm not really much? Alastor being Alastor! One mention of not being able to sleep sometimes, mention of seeing people in hell doing dr*gs, k*lling eachother, and fighting, mention of reader having bad social skills (?)

part two

A/N: UM!! this is my first time writing for alastor, so apologies if it isn’t the best. Please give me any feedback you want, I’d love to hear it! Also sorry for any spelling mistakes. I hope you enjoy :’)

Alastor the radio demon. You know of the things he’s done, you know that people are quite literally terrified of him. But for some reason... you feel a certain way towards him that you can’t describe, but it’s surely not fear.

You’ve had a some-what odd admiration of him since you landed in hell, only a few months ago. You got spotted by Charlie when you first got to hell. She noticed you looking around nervously and lost, and put two and two together that you must be new. She very kindly introduced herself which was refreshing because.. well.. it’s hell. Everywhere you looked people were fighting, doing drugs, and even killing each other. You were glad there were kind people even down here.

“Hi, you! Uh, you lost?” Charlie smiled you and waved.

“Um yeah! I’m guessing this is hell, huh?” You awkwardly chuckle. Social skills weren’t ever your thing, it seems they haven’t got better after you died, either.

“Yep! This is hell! You must be new? I’m Charlie! Charlie Morningstar. It’s so nice to meet you.” She smiled and stuck out her hand for you to shake.

“Nice to meet you, Charlie! My names Y/n.” You politely smiled back and shook her hand.

After that meeting, Charlie showed you to the hotel in which you eagerly accepted to stay at, her being the only sane thing you’ve seen down here. It was a pretty nice place, no 5 star hotel like back on earth, but it was something you’re very grateful for. Who knows what would’ve happened to you if you haven’t met her.

While she was showing you around, someone caught your eye. He was a tall man, very polite and respectful looking. He was dressed head to toe in old fashioned attire, with a cane to suit his charming look. He was smiling in a way that made you look at him like he was something you wanted to inspect under a magnifying glass.

He glanced at you and smiled larger, stepping over to you and Charlie.

“My, my! What do we have here? Charlie! You didn’t tell me that we’ve got more guests? It’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear! The names Alastor!” He spoke politely.

His voice was sort of.. Radio-like? You found it soothing.

“Haha yeah! I found them wandering around on the street this morning! They’re a newcomer, their name is Y/n.” She spoke back, excited to introduce you.

“Y/n! Well, my, my. That’s quite a lovely name!” He said. “Say.. do you listen to radio? I host a brilliant radio broadcast that’ll give you some real insight on this place!” He said enthusiastically.

“Oh.. haha thank you” You smile. “I do actually! I love radio shows.” You immediately feel drawn towads him. You cant tell if it’s just the new scenery or what.. but you want to just sit and chat with him for hours.

Alastor perks up at that. “Oh you do, do you?” He smiled more.

“Yeah! Back when I was.. uhm.. alive, I actually had a whole playlist of them! What do you do your show about?” You ask.

Alastor is delighted to have you take interest in his show. “Well, dear, I do all sorts of things on there! Yes, yes, you think of it and I’ve most probably done it! Most commonly known is the souls I entrap and prison, as I broadcast their screams of horror all over this horrible place and people get to hear the noises of their never-ending torture and demise. But! I also just made a wonderful segment on my mother’s Jambalaya recipe!” He stated.

While part of those sentences gave you chills, you still seemed to take interest in him.

“Well,” you chuckle. “I will certainly check it out!” You smile.

“Ah! Wonderful news, my dear.” He said while he twirled his cane.

Charlie was watching you interact with him and noticed how you looked at him, as if admiring. She smile and said, “well! We better finish the tour.”

She motions for you to follow her and you do, waving Alastor goodbye.

He waves back and yells, “goodbye, sweetheart! Lovely to have met you.”

After that, you wanted absolutely everything to do with him. You’ve also got to know the other people staying at the hotel. Angel, Vaggie, Husk, Niffty, and Sir Pentious. They were overall kind people. Husk found your interest in Alastor to be no good.

“Yeah, no. That, whatever thing you have created in your mind about him, isn’t true. He’s vile, Y/n. Trust me on that.” He grunts.

Angel thought you had some kind of kink towards “scary, creepy men.” Which wasn’t true because you didn’t even find him scary. You found him charming.

“Ah.. Alastor? Fucking sexy weirdo if I do say so myself. He’s got some reaaal problems but hey, if you’re into that-“ You cut him off by saying it wasn’t like that & that you don’t think anything sexual towards him.

One day, you were talking to Sir Pentious about his “crush” on Cherry Bomb. He completely denied it but you could tell from his blush and his nervous demeanour that he was very interested in her.

You were caught off guard when you heard that radio voice coming up from behind you.

“Y/n, my dear! I have a question for you.” Alastor came and stood beside you, looking down from where you’re sitting.

“Al! Hey, what’s up?” You ask, containing your excitement.

Sir Pentious excused himself quickly, seeing one of his “egg boys” were being played with by Niffty. She isn’t one to be gentle.

“So, I know how you’ve been listening to my radio show as of late, and I was wondering if you’d like to see where the magic happens!” He states.

“R-really? I’d be honoured!” You say, smiling.

“Ah! Lovely. Come now, this way.”

You get up and he locks arms with you and chats about his new microphone that he got.

Once you guys arrive, you’re shocked. It looks very professional and comfortable. It suits him heavily. There’s a big open window, a desk, some chairs and sofas, a bunch of technical stuff on the desk along with his new mic that you recognize from his descriptions, and a deer coat hanger?

“Wow, Alastor. This place is so actually so sick. I love it. And the new microphone suits you!” You say. “Thank you for showing me, really.”

Typically, Alastor would never show someone something personal of his, including his studio, but you are an exception. He isn’t sure what it is about you but he doesn’t seem to hate you as much as he does with anyone else. At first he was weirded out, but now he just embraces it. He also feels protective of you. He doesn’t know exactly why you’re even down here. For as far is he can tell, you’re an angel. Always being kind even to those who aren’t kind to you, always saying “please” and “thank you,” all that jazz. Jazz! You even like jazz music, his favourite. He told you that he lived on earth the time jazz music was popular. The 20’s and 30’s. That explains his vocabulary and how he dresses. You just find it more interesting and take time to ask questions about what it was like in that time.

“Why of course, my dear! If I’d want to show anyone here, it would be you.” He says, giving you his iconic smile.

You have a thought. “Hey, Al? Would it be alright if the next time you do a show, I could stay and listen?”

You hope he doesn’t think this is odd.

Alastor raises a brow. “Why would you want to do that?” He asks.

You panic, thinking you went too far by asking and now he’s going to cut you off or something.

“Ha! Kidding, sweetheart! Of course you can. I love when my broadcast is wanted to be listened to. Though I love it as well when they don’t want to.” He says.

You’re relieved, a bit scared, but still relieved.

“Say!” He says. “I was going to make one tonight talking about this silly technology box that thinks he is better than me! You know, expose all his lies and secrets to my listeners, and unwilling listeners. Maybe broadcast it all throughout hell!” He starts laughing manically. Then calms down and stares at you.

“Would you want to stay and listen, hm? I can do it now! I didn’t have any plans today going forward and well, getting it out sooner is better than later, I always say.” He asks.

You know he’s talking about Vox when he mentioned the technology box. Him and Vox have a sort of rivalry going on. Though Alastor seems to not care much about him, Vox is sure obsessed. He’s even gone so far as to making posters about him. Which areee.. not much of a resemblance.

This offer strikes you and you immediately perk up. “Yes! I’d love to.” You say.

You don’t think Alastor knows this but whenever you’re struggling to sleep, you put on his radio show and his voice comforts you to sleep. You’re sure if you told him, he would find it weird.

Little did you know, Alastor already knew. He walked past your room one night and heard static sounds coming from your quarters. He immediately was intrigued and put his ear close to your door to hear his voice. He was surprised, but not weirded out. He found it delightful that you found comfort in his voice. It’s not everyday someone does. Usually it invokes terror and anxiety on anyone who hears. This was new, and he didn’t hate it.

“Lovely! Let me get all set up. You can sit wherever you feel the most comfortable!” He says, adjusting his mic and pressing a buttons on his table.

You find a spot and sit down. Feeling honored to even be in the same room as him, let alone HIS room.

“Ahem! Welcome ladies and gentlemen-“ He goes off into his introduction, before winking at you and starting.

After about 20 minutes, you begin to feel tired and put your head on the side of the wall, still listening but with your eyes closed.

Alastor immediately notices and smirks, knowing how his voice effects you. He continues on and after about another 20 minutes, he finishes up. You’re asleep, slightly smiling.

He walks over to you and looks down.

“My, my. You really are an interesting one, aren’t you?” He whispers. He smiles more softly than he usually does and looks around to find a purple blanket hanging on his deer coat hanger, and gently places it on you.

He feels his heart fluttering while looking down at you and he immediately shrugs it off.

“Mm well, my dear.. I guess you can stay here. I’ll just be over there, transferring my broadcast to the other radios around town.” He says and points to his table.

“Sleep well, amour.” He speaks softly.

[dandey-lion]

After defeating Pariah Dark, Phantom -High King of the Infinite Realms- joins the JL or YJL.

Danny is a great addition to the team, he’s surrounded by other people with powers (even if they didn’t have to die to get them), he doesn’t have to hide who he is. Nobody is hunting him anymore. The Anti-Ecto acts have been abolished and so has the GIW. He can still help people but the pressure isn’t just on him anymore. His parents accept him. Danny is happy.

But one day, one fateful day…

Pariah rises again.

The magic users are scrambling. The JL and YJ are frantic. Danny is…

Pretty calm, actually. A little annoyed, perhaps.

That kinda tracks. He’s the high king of the infinite realms and all the dead. He’s defeated Pariah before- and now he’s older, more experienced, with a team that he’s never had before. He’s explored his powers and authority to an extent his past self could only dream of.

So when Pariah Dark, former Tyrant of the Dead, storms the watchtower where the heroes have gathered, they’re a little off-put by it but ready to defend their home with all their might- a newfound confidence from Phantom’s nonchalance.

But who would’ve guessed that Pariah Dark, former Tyrant of the dead, would ask Phantom..

If he could adopt him?

Danny guessed, it seemed.

“No.” Danny glared at him.

“I can give you-“

“I don’t want anything from you, you frootloop. Piss off.” Danny said pointedly, tapping his foot impatiently.

“I can offer you wisdom to lead your kingdom that you won’t find anywhere else!” Pariah said exasperated, waving his arms around.

“I don’t want a tyrant’s advice.” Danny sneered. The rest of the heroes exchanged glances. This certainly wasn’t on anybody’s bingo card.

“Alright, that’s fair, but-“

“Ive been ruling my kingdom just fine. Piss off.” Danny jabbed a finger at him. “I will eat your core if you ask again.” Pariah paled, (as much as a ghost could), then grumbled about getting him eventually before finally, finally leaving in a swirling, neon green portal.

Danny left in one of his own, after bidding goodbye to the rest of them. Nobody wanted to ask what that was about. He seemed pissed.

.

A little while later, the heroes finally got around to processing what exactly happened that morning.

The.. former king of the dead, known tyrant, the one who Danny defeated.. came back to ask??? If he could adopt Danny???? Again???? As in he tried asking before????????

There was much pandemonium for the heroes that fateful day.

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

Part 3: Bubble Tea

“Hey.” Kyle murmurs, hand lightly grazing over your shoulders to rest on the back of your neck. His palm feels warm on your skin and you unconsciously lean back into it.

“Hm?” You look up from where you were hunched over your phone - definitely not shopping for a new purse on company time.

“Gonna go pick up lunch f’the shop. Want t’ come with? I don’t think I can carry it all myself.” He asks. His eyes are always so soft when he looks at you. Relaxed and bright with that constant slight quirk in the corners of his lips.

“Oh! Yeah, sounds good.” You grin, standing quickly and grabbing your wallet out of your purse to shove into your back pocket. Might as well get something for yourself if you’re going out. “Where are we heading?”

“That poke place a couple blocks up.” Kyle nods in the intended direction.

You follow him out of the shop. The weather has begun to warm more. Still cool enough for long sleeves but the sun feels nice on your face as you trot up the street, speed walking to keep up with Kyle and his accursed long legs.

“Switch with me.” Kyle murmurs, hand flattening on your lower back as he steps to the road side of the sidewalk.

You snort, cheeks warming when his hand remains a few beats longer than necessary. “How chivalrous.”

He chuckles. “My grandad always said t’never let a lady walk by the street. Guess it stuck with me.”

As much as you want to tease him about playing into gender roles, you can’t lie and say you don’t like it. That it doesn’t make your heart patter and your stomach flutter. Growing up fat, you never really got the chance to be treated delicately. Femininely. Always expected to be tougher, louder, more masculine. It feels good. Healing, in a way, as stupid as it is.

God, your inner monologue is embarrassing.

The shop is smaller than you expected. Tucked away like many buildings in this downtown with a short, blue awning shading the teal colored door. It’s surprisingly crowded too, people packed in like sardines and filing in and out quickly. The inside is nicely decorated - a few tables off to the side that no one seems to stay at. They more so seem to act as a waiting spot until people get their food and head out. The menu board is shaped like a bright blue, wall-length fish.

“Ladies first.” Kyle grins, opening the door for you. You roll your eyes at him, earning a pinch to your side in return. It’s almost strange how easy things are with him - with all of them. You don’t think you’ve ever been this comfortable around a group of men before. That would probably make you sad if you thought about it for long enough.

Kyle passes you a little clipboard with a stack of papers to customize your poke bowl and a small pen. He begins filling out three for the others, seemingly from memory. You wonder how often they come down here - if it’s their favorite local spot or just convenient. You look over his shoulder, snooping for the others preferences. Apparent Simon likes a lot of spice. Johnny, not so much.

Your eyes widen as you reach the bottom of your menu. “They have boba!”

“You want some?” Kyle grins.

You nod excitedly. Like a kid discovering a new candy. It’s been so long since you got your hands on some bubble tea - if you’d known they had it sooner you would’ve been in here nearly everyday. Then again, maybe it’s good that you didn’t know.

Kyle holds out his hand. You look between it and his face dumbly for a few moments, clutching your order in your hands before putting the pieces together.

“I can get my own!” You insist. “I don’t-“

“Price’s treat, love.” He snags the paper from your hands. “He always pays when we come here.”

“Oh. Okay.” You chew your lip. “I can at least pay for my drink, since it’s extra-“

He just waves you off and marches up to the register. You don’t miss the fact that he pulls out a very shiny credit card. So it’s not Price’s treat. It’s a company treat, eh?

Not that you’re going to complain. Free poke and boba is a dream come true.

Kyle takes your little plastic number, ducking to snag a now freed up table to wait at. They’re tall, causing you to scramble unceremoniously to get up in the heightened chair. You think you see him laughing out of the corner of your eye, but as soon as you face him he’s just sitting with that usual, casual smile of his.

One of the workers brings over your drinks in a little carrier, saying the food will take a minute longer. You’ve never been patient, greedily grabbing your tea and aggressively stabbing through the cover.

“When do you think John’s gonna let you do your first real tattoo?” You ask, kicking your feet under the tall chair.

Kyle shrugs. “He said soon. I think he’s waitin’ for me to’ be less nervous about it. Plus I need to find someone to do it on-“

“You can do it on me.” You blurt without thinking.

He eyes you. “Really?”

You nod excitedly. “I really like your work - at least what I’ve seen of it. It doesn’t have to be anything big. I’m perfectly happy with one your black-only flashes. That way you can start small.”

“I don’t know…”

“Plus, John says I sit real good. I’m not gonna wriggle and fuck you up.” You chew your straw absentmindedly.

“And what do you get out of this?” Kyle cocks and eyebrow, that slight, constant smirk only growing across his face.

You tap your chin. “Bragging rights when you get famous someday. I got the first official Garrick tattoo ever!”

A surprised laugh forces it’s way out of him, sending him into a coughing fit around the drink he was sipping. “Don’t think I’m gonna be that good, love.”

You reach out, resting your hand over his as a strange wave of seriousness overtakes you. “I don’t think John would take you on as an apprentice if he didn’t think so. Plus, you should hear how much he brags about you. It’s almost insufferable.”

There’s something in his eyes as he gives you another once over. It’s slower this time, dragging up your arm and across your features and back down your other arm, coming to an end where your hand lays over his. Kyle turns his hand upward, brushing his two middle fingers over your pulse point. It steals your breath, strangely enough. He hold your hand so gently, barely cupping it in his.

You wish you could tell what he’s thinking. For all Kyle’s honest and kind nature, he’s hard to read. That perma-smirk hides a lot more than you think you or anyone else realizes.

“Alright. I’ll talk t’John about it.” He murmurs, withdrawing his hand.

“Yah. You better.” You grin, leaning back in your seat just as the food comes out.

[velarisdusk]

Velvet Whispers, Midnight Truths

Azriel x Reader

word count: 5.3k content: [ explicit sexual content, unprotected PIV, az doesn't pull out lol, casual sex, hurt/comfort kinda?, jealousy, friends to lovers, language ] summary: Frustrated by Azriel's apparent indifference towards you, you seek solace in the arms of others. But words exchanged over a family dinner ignite a long-suppressed jealousy. A heated exchange, an unforeseen confrontation, and a passionate encounter follow. author's note: i received this ask a couple of weeks ago and omg i had so much fun writing this, i love drama ✦ . Masterlist . ✦

You liked to think you could handle a lot; political disputes, bloodshed, mountains of paperwork. But this? No, this was simply too much. You were in hysterics when Nesta found you — or rather when Nesta was rounding a corner and you bumped into her with enough force to make even Cassian stumble back.

“(Y/n), do you sincerely believe that that,” she’d gestured between you and the general direction you’d run from, “was ever going to work?” Her words were like a knife to the gut, her tone like grabbing it by the hilt and twisting. How she’d known what you’d seen was beyond you. But it wasn’t lost on her, or anyone else except Azriel apparently; the longing stares out the window down to the training ring, always sitting next to or across from him at the table, the way your scent would change when he’d pop into and out of a room — a dead giveaway of where your mind went when he was around.

So to see him like that — with her… It was a sight that seared itself into your memory. Their lips were locked in a passionate kiss, her fingers threaded through his dark hair. His hands roamed her body with unbridled desire, tracing the curves of her sides, waist, and hips, cupping her breast, and cradling her neck. To say it stung would’ve been the understatement of the millennia.

“It’s just… how he is,” her tone softened when she noticed your wince. “He was obsessed with Morrigan for five hundred years… five hundred, (y/n). I won’t be surprised if he’s set on Elain for five hundred more. What she plans to do, well,” Nesta raised her hands as if to say ‘not my problem.’ Her words were harsh, but you knew they held some truth.

“Maybe you just need to go to a pleasure house and fuck him out of your system,” she’d said plainly, smoothing down your hair as if she were discussing the weather. A pleasure house? They were illegal, but you weren’t naive, you knew they were out there. They were all underground; places you found through a friend of a cousin of a neighbor. Before you could dry your eyes, Nesta pulled a pen out of her pocket and scribbled an address onto your wrist. You didn’t want to know why she’d had it memorized. “Pretend it’s him, or the cute guy at the coffee shop, or whoever honestly. Hell, maybe even think of whoever it is you’re fucking,” she said with a smirk as she wrote. “Whatever you need to do to get over him, do it.”

You spent months in and out of taverns, walking in alone, walking out with a different male each time. It was fun… when they knew what they were doing. It was a wonder; males don’t know what they’re doing even if they have all the time in the world to figure it out. On the nights when there were enough of you for a family dinner at the River House, you didn’t miss how they all tried to scent you subtly, and eventually how Azriel’s shadows crept under the table all the way towards your feet, curling around your ankles as if trying to unravel your secrets. That was one of the many things that had stopped lately, sitting near him. The first night you took Mor’s usual seat, she’d given you a bemused look but said nothing of it. Meanwhile, the windowsill grew colder, both from the changing weather and your prolonged absence.

Your thoughts, however, were as persistent as ever. You didn’t think about him as often these days (Nesta’s advice worked pretty fast, you thought), but that was before he walked into Rhys’s office while you were discussing how to best quell the persistent tensions with Autumn.

It had been a quick in-and-out from him, typical as of late. Azriel strode in, his movements fluid and purposeful. He dropped some papers onto Rhys’s desk, leaning over your shoulder to do so. As he straightened, his right hand briefly rested on your other shoulder, the touch light but noticeable. He gave Rhys a nod and left. The warmth of his touch lingered long after he’d gone.

“We’ll have to speak to Eris again, soon,” he’d said with a barely-there note of urgency as he sifted through Azriel’s report.

“I can go,” you’d volunteered. “I’ve been meaning to go for some honey. Autumn Court honey-”

“-is the best, I know,” he finished with a soft smile. “Listen, I know I don’t need to warn you, but whatever conversation you may have with Eris, it’ll likely be heated. And tense. Things right now aren’t the best after-”

“I know,” it was your turn to say. “I can handle him, Rhysie, don’t you worry,” you teased, using that nickname you knew he’d roll his eyes at. “I’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning.”

The feeling of Azriel’s hand on your shoulder was a brand on your skin.

Not an hour after you’d met with Rhysand, you were standing in the entrance of the pleasure hall Nesta’d told you about all those weeks ago. The kind-looking female at the desk brought out a book of names so you could choose… your companion for the evening. You’d flipped through page after page, your nerves growing with each description you read. None of them were your type to begin with, but to pick and choose from a book felt wrong. You were about to point one out at random when the door opened, and who should walk in but the heir to the Autumn Court himself?

You’d somehow convinced him not to rush out, and to have a chat over coffee. He somehow convinced you that it was meant to be that he walked in right when you were about to make a mistake.

You’d somehow convinced each other it wouldn’t be an entirely terrible and irreversible mistake to get a room at the hotel across the street for a couple of hours.

Then again one night the next week.

And again three days after that.

That was how you found yourself underneath Eris Vanserra now. It was meaningless for both of you, purely physical, but you couldn’t deny the added thrill of finding someone so mutually attractive.

“Gods, you’re so fucking tight,” he groans from behind you, grabbing your hips and pulling you back onto his cock with a force unmatched by any of your tavern trysts. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room, punctuated by your moans and heated whispers.

Rhysand would be waiting for you to get back. You were supposed to meet with Eris to discuss the logistics of a diplomatic meeting to address inter-court relations. And then there was the family dinner tonight. Almost everyone was home – only Amren was absent, her extended stays in the Summer Court becoming more frequent these days.

“Hurry up and finish, I’ve got places to be,” you tell him over your shoulder, looking his way just as he lands a firm smack on your ass.

“Better places than right here?” he asks. With a particularly hard thrust, you’re thrown off of your forearms with a yelp, face-first into the pillowy sheets.

“I didn’t say that-” You’re cut off by a moan that escapes you when he reaches around and toys with your nipple. “But I’ve got to get back and tell Rhysand that we-”

“Let’s not talk business, please,” he says, a hint of irritation in his voice. “The last thing I want to think about right now is leaving the lands of one tyrant to go back to the lands of another.” You turn your head indignantly at that, ready to defend your High Lord, when he shoves your face back into the mattress, abandoning any pretense of gentleness. Eris’s hands roamed your body, his touch igniting sparks along your skin. Your breath caught as he reached a particularly sensitive spot. You arched into him, pushing aside all thoughts of diplomatic meetings and family dinners.

This? This was simply too good.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

For the first time in months, Feyre called for a family dinner at the River House. It was a rare occurrence lately; as soon as someone returned, someone else had to leave. She and Cassian had returned from the Continent this morning, and Azriel and Nesta from Autumn hours ago.

Azriel’s gaze swept across the table, taking in the faces of his family. Rhys sat to his right at the head, one hand intertwined with Feyre’s, the other gently stroking Nyx’s hair as the toddler babbled happily in his high chair. Cassian’s booming voice filled the air, entertaining them with tales of his and Feyre’s adventure, and Mor leaned in, her golden hair catching the candlelight as she listened. Even Nesta, usually with her mask of indifference, couldn’t entirely hide the fond exasperation in her eyes as she watched her mate’s exaggerated retelling.

When his eyes fell on Elain, the tips of his ears reddened slightly. The memory of their encounter all those months ago flashed through his mind. The passion, the nervousness, the realization that followed. He’d handled it poorly. The guilt of touching her so intimately, only to find himself unmoved, still weighed on him. He quickly averted his gaze, hoping no one had noticed his momentary discomfort.

They’d been happily sitting at the table just shy of ten minutes when a realization struck him. The chair diagonal to his remained suspiciously empty. He cleared his throat, taking a sip of water to cover his sudden unease. “Where’s (y/n)?” he asked, his tone carefully neutral. “I thought we were all home tonight?”

“She’s probably with Jasper,” Cassian said offhandedly, sawing into his steak with perhaps more force than was necessary. Azriel’s grip on his fork tightened imperceptibly.

Feyre shook her head, a slight frown creasing her brow. “Jasper? No, that ended forever ago. Last I heard, she was seeing Ares.”

“Ares?” Nesta’s eyebrows shot up. “I could’ve sworn I saw her with Roan a couple of weeks ago.”

“Before Ares,” Feyre clarified, exchanging a knowing look with her sister.

Mor leaned in, unable to hide her curiosity. “Wait, wasn’t there a Soran at some point too?”

He tried to maintain his composure, but it grated on his nerves. His jaw clenched tighter with each name mentioned, his grip on his fork becoming white-knuckled. The metal bent under the pressure of his fingers, and his shadows whirled around him, betraying the storm of emotions the words had unleashed.

Elain’s soft voice cut through the chatter. “It’s been Eris a few times now.”

The table fell silent, all eyes snapping to Elain. She paused, her glass of wine halfway to her lips, suddenly aware of the weight of her words.

“Lucien mentioned something about it,” she murmured, before taking a rather large sip.

Something inside Azriel snapped. He slammed the bent fork onto the table with enough force to rattle the dishes, the sound cutting through the stunned silence. Without a word, he abruptly stood, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.

Ignoring the concerned looks and half-formed questions from his family, he strode out of the dining room. His shadows darted around him, agitated and dark.

Outside, he took a deep breath of the cool night air, trying to calm the storm raging inside him. But he couldn’t; not until he knew where she was. His shadows slipped from him, spreading out into the night, searching for her. He clenched his jaw, the thought of them, of her with him, branded into his mind. With a low growl of frustration, Azriel let his shadows envelop him completely.

Azriel sat at the small, dimly lit cafe, the steam rising from the untouched cup of coffee in front of him. He didn’t need it, not really. The caffeine wouldn’t do anything to calm him, but it gave him something to do with his hands. He settled into a corner seat, his shadows swirling restlessly around his feet as he waited. He stared out the window, his eyes trained on the hotel’s entrance, but his mind was elsewhere. The fury simmered beneath his skin, an itch he couldn’t scratch, and it made him feel restless.

But why was he so mad?

They weren’t together. They’d never been together. She was free to do whatever she pleased, with whoever she pleased. He’d never allowed himself to think of her that way — she was beautiful, yes, but he had never looked at her and felt that familiar tug of desire that he’d experienced with others. She was more than that… It was different.

He scowled, leaning back in his chair as the thought sank in. If that was true, if he’d never seen her in that light, then why did the thought of her with Eris make his blood boil? What was it about seeing her with that arrogant piece of shit that had twisted something deep inside him?

His jaw tightened. Maybe it wasn’t just about Eris. Maybe it was about her.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut.

Azriel’s grip tightened around the coffee cup, the ceramic warm against his palm as he watched the entrance of the hotel from the cafe. It wasn’t long before he saw Eris stride out, pausing briefly to glance around as he adjusted the cuff of his sleeve. Azriel scoffed, imagining all the things he’d love to do to that self-satisfied prick. The idea of wiping that smug look off Eris’s face brought a twisted sense of satisfaction.

But then, his breath caught in his throat as you stepped out of the hotel, turning to walk in the opposite direction, towards the River House. Azriel’s jaw clenched. Were you planning on showing up and pretending nothing had happened?

He let out a slow, measured breath, willing the fury to simmer down as he pushed away from the table. Keeping a safe distance, he followed you through the darkened streets, his shadows drifting ahead to ensure your path was clear. He told himself it was just to make sure you got back safe. That was all.

But the anger, the confusion, the gnawing sense of something he couldn’t quite name — it lingered, gnawing at him with every step he took.

As you neared the house, Azriel’s pace slowed, his footsteps nearly silent as he watched you walk the final block. The moment you turned the corner, his form dissolved into shadows, and he winnowed back into the house, appearing in the dining room with a gust of displaced air.

“Az, where the hell did you–” Cassian started, but Azriel cut him off with a cold glare.

“Shut up and eat.”

“Az?” Feyre’s voice held a note of concern. “You–”

“I said sh–” he stopped himself when he looked up and realized who’d spoken. “Eat.” Azriel’s tone was softer but still left no room for argument as he dropped into his seat, his jaw clenched tight. The others exchanged uneasy glances, but after a brief, tense pause, the conversation resumed. It was quieter at first, voices subdued as they cautiously picked up where they’d left off, but soon enough, the normal rhythm returned.

Minutes later, the door creaked open, and you walked in, your presence instantly drawing the room’s attention. You hung up your coat, smoothing down your hair as you made your way to the table. But as you sat, the scent slammed into him, unmistakable — Eris. It was all over you, clinging to your skin, and your clothes, filling the room with the unmistakable evidence of your encounter.

Azriel’s fists clenched under the table, though his face remained neutral. To his left, Elain’s lips curved into a small, knowing smirk, her gaze flicking between you and Azriel. She had noticed the shift in him, the way his entire demeanor had changed the moment she casually mentioned who you’d been spending time with lately. And now, with the proof of it hanging in the air like a challenge, she could see through his cool facade, the turmoil beneath it. But Azriel said nothing, just stared down at his plate.

The table was silent as you ate, the tension thickening with every passing moment. Azriel’s gaze was fixed on you, his patience wearing thin. When it became clear that you had no intention of bringing up the unmistakable smell that lingered around you, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Why do you smell like Eris?” His voice cut through the silence with a directness that left no room for misinterpretation.

You looked up, eyes wide with surprise at the bluntness of his question. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for your response.

Azriel stayed deathly still, back straight against the seat. “You knew someone was going to ask. His stench is all over you — you reek of him. So why?”

You raised an eyebrow, your expression one of calm defiance. “I think you’re old enough to have had that conversation with someone else already.” Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of Rhysand summoning a bottle of liquor from the cabinet.

A murmur rippled through the room. Elain’s eyes widened in delighted surprise, while Feyre’s face twitched, clearly uncomfortable. But a smirk played on Nesta’s lips, amused by the scene unfolding before her.

Azriel’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t look away from you. His jaw clenched, and the intensity in his gaze was unmistakable. “You know, most people would have the decency to keep their affairs private.”

Your lips curled into a sardonic smile. “And some people think it’s their job to play moral watchdog. How very… quaint.”

Mor, now holding the bottle of liquor and pouring, raised an eyebrow at the exchange but made no move to intervene, clearly interested in the outcome.

Azriel’s nostrils flared, his irritation evident. “Quaint? Is that what you call it when someone’s reckless behavior affects everyone around them?”

You leaned forward, your voice icy. “How is what I choose to do with my time affecting everyone else? And who’s being reckless here? I’m not the one who’s turned this dinner into a circus.”

Nesta’s smirk widened slightly, her eyes gleaming with a mix of satisfaction and anticipation. The room’s atmosphere grew thicker, tension palpable as both of you held your ground, eyes locked on each other.

“Can we take this somewhere else?” Azriel’s voice was edged with frustration. It was unlike him to let his composure slip.

You shook your head, a glint of challenge in your smile. “No, you’ve already brought it up. Go ahead.”

His voice dropped, carrying a hard edge. “I don’t think you should be with him.”

Your gaze hardened, your tone sharp. “Not that it’s any of your concern, but I’m not ‘with’ him.”

Azriel’s eyes flashed. “I don’t think you should be fucking him then!”

You met his challenge head-on. “And who are you to decide who I fuck?”

His frustration boiled over, his fists clenched at his sides. “I’m–” He started, but the words faltered on his lips. The reality of the situation hit him hard, and he realized he had no right to be this worked up. With a ragged breath, he abruptly stood from the table, circling it to your seat. Without another word, Azriel grabbed your arm with a firm grip and began to drag you towards the door. Your eyes widened in surprise, but you didn’t resist. The room’s atmosphere had shifted, the air charged with an electric tension. Azriel’s grip on your arm was firm but not harsh, leading you toward a quieter corner of the house.

He guided you into a dimly lit hallway, far from the prying eyes of your family. As soon as the hall door clicked shut behind you, the space seemed to close in. Azriel’s breath was uneven, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that spoke of more than just frustration.

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “I just… I can’t stand the thought of you with him.”

You stepped closer, your voice equally low but steady. “And what does that matter to you? You’ve never been one to concern yourself with me.”

Azriel’s gaze softened. “That’s not true. I’ve always cared about you. And thinking about you with him… it drives me mad.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t seem like you were too concerned when you were feeling up Elain.”

Azriel’s expression shifted, guilt and frustration clouding his features. “That’s not fair. Things are complicated, you know that. It wasn’t about not caring for you.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Then what was it about? Because to me, it seemed like you were perfectly fine ignoring me.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, but his voice was steady. “I never ignored you, (y/n),” he said, his touch firm yet gentle as he lifted your chin to meet his gaze. “I may have been spending more time with Elain, but I never ignored you. Her and I already spoke, forever ago, a few days after it happened, actually. It was a mistake. One I deeply regret.”

You shook your head, the hurt evident in your eyes. “Words are easy, Azriel. Actions–”

“–actions were a mess, I know.” He cut you off, stepping closer. “But I’m trying. I’ve been trying.”

You searched his face, conflicted emotions warring within you. “And yet, here we are, you feeling the need to interfere in my life.”

Azriel’s gaze held yours, earnest and intense. “Because I care about you, just as much as you care about me, if not more.” You had to suppress an eye roll at that. If only he knew. “Knowing you’re with him… I can’t help but feel it’s not right.”

A heavy silence fell between you, the unspoken words hanging in the air. Before you could break it, Azriel closed the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours in a fierce, hungry kiss. It was raw, demanding, and full of the emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface all this time. You responded in kind, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer. The world outside seemed to fade away. In the quiet darkness of the hallway, your bodies pressed together, the tension from your confrontation fueling a different kind of intensity.

Azriel’s hands roamed over your body with a desperate need, as if he was trying to erase the anger and frustration from earlier, trying to replace the scent tinging your usual honey and lavender with night-chilled mist and cedar. He pushed you against the wall, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat of his touch. His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as his kiss grew more insistent.

You gasped against his lips, your body responding to his touch with desire and need. Your hands traveled down to the hem of his winter sweater, fingers curling around the fabric as you tugged it upwards, needing to feel more of him, needing to touch the skin beneath. Azriel didn’t hesitate; he broke the kiss just long enough to yank it over his head, discarding it to the side before his mouth was on yours again, more demanding, more fervent.

You let your hands explore the expanse of his chest, feeling the lines of hard muscle, the cool touch of his skin a contrast to the searing heat between you. Every caress, every brush of his lips, was fueled by the unspoken tension that had been simmering inside of you for so long. Though the thought of this wasn’t on your radar an hour ago, it felt as though this moment had been inevitable, the collision of anger and passion combusting into something neither of you could resist.

Azriel’s hands slid beneath your shirt, his touch sending shivers down your spine as he lifted the fabric, fingers trailing over your skin, up to your waist, his touch tender yet possessive. With a swift motion, he pulled your shirt over your head and then his lips were on your neck trailing heated kisses down to your collarbone.

“Is this what you wanted?” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and heavy, every word laced with the same intensity that had sparked this fire between you. “Is this what you were trying to find with those miserable fucks?” He nipped at your shoulder, his teeth grazing the delicate skin before soothing it with a kiss.

You could only nod, words failing you as the need in your body overpowered everything else. You wanted this — wanted him — and there was no space for hesitation. Your hands gripped his shoulders tighter as he pressed you more firmly against the wall, his hips grinding against yours in a way that made you gasp again.

Azriel’s eyes met yours, dark and filled with a mixture of desire and something more — something deeper. For a brief moment, everything paused, the air thick with unspoken emotions that hung between you. Then, as if some unspoken agreement had been reached, his lips found yours again, and all the pent-up tension spilled over. He pressed his hands firmly against your hips, his grip possessive as he lifted you effortlessly from the floor. With a deliberate stride, he carried you towards the guest bedroom he was staying in, his lips meeting yours once again. His lips burned against yours as he carried you down the hall, his pace steady but urgent. The guest bedroom door swung open with a firm push, and he set you down gently on the edge of the bed. The room, dimly lit by the soft glow of a bedside lamp, seemed to pulse with the intensity of the moment.

He loomed over you, his hands still gripping your hips, his breaths deep as he took in the sight of you sprawled before him. His gaze roamed hungrily over your body, a smoldering look in his eyes that made your pulse quicken. His fingers traced the curve of your waist as he leaned in to press open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone and down to the swell of your breasts. He reached beneath you, his fingers finding the clasp of your bra. You arched your back, offering him better access. With a skilled movement, he undid the clasp and slid the garment off your shoulders. His gaze lingered on your exposed skin, filled with an intense, appreciative heat.

His hands roamed eagerly, exploring every inch of your exposed skin. He paused momentarily to meet your eyes, the burning desire in his gaze mirrored your own. “Tell me what you want,” he rasped, his breath hot against your ear. “Tell me how to make you feel everything you need.”

You pulled him down for another searing kiss, your fingers threading through his hair as you whispered against his lips, “Just touch me, Azriel.”

His response was immediate. He moved with a practiced grace, undressing you with urgency. Azriel took a moment to appreciate the view, his gaze dark and intense with a mixture of hunger and reverence. He shifted position, his hands exploring the newly exposed expanse of your skin. His lips followed, trailing fiery kisses down your torso, savoring every inch of you. He took his time, lingering over the most sensitive spots, teasing and testing to see what made you shiver and gasp.

He knelt between your legs, his breath warm against your inner thighs as he leaned in to kiss the sensitive skin. His tongue flicked out, teasing and exploring with a skill that made you writhe beneath him. The sensation was overwhelming, each stroke and flick sending waves of pleasure through you. His hands were steady and reassuring as he guided you through the rising tide of your desire.

The room was filled with the sounds of your shared desire — the soft rustle of sheets, the breathy gasps of pleasure, and the occasional low groan of satisfaction. Azriel’s touch was relentless and precise, each movement meant to drive you closer to the edge.

When he finally positioned himself above you, there was a moment of intense eye contact, his gaze fierce and protective, as if etching every detail of your expression into his mind.

As you reached for him, your fingers tracing the torso you’d pleasured yourself to the thought of countless times, Azriel gently took your hand in his. His voice was low and firm, filled with a mixture of resolve and tenderness. “Not tonight,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “Tonight, I want to take care of you. We can worry about everything else another time.”

With that, he shifted his focus entirely to you, his hands and lips working in concert to bring you to the brink of pleasure. His body melded with yours, the sensation overwhelming, and you gasped at the sudden fullness, every inch of him filling you in a way that was electrifying and profoundly intimate. Azriel’s movements were rhythmic and purposeful, each thrust making your breath hitch.

“Azriel,” you breathed, your voice trembling with need. “I’ve wanted you so badly.”

His gaze softened, his hands tightening their grip on your hips. “I’m here,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

You could feel the tension coiling tighter inside you, each thrust driving you further into a state of heightened arousal. Azriel’s movements were perfectly curated to push you closer and closer to the edge. His hands and lips explored your body with a dedication that made your pulse race, his touch alternating between gentle caresses and firm grips.

His lips traveled from your ear to your neck, his kisses lingering and teasing, each one sending a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through you. You arched against him, your body instinctively seeking more, craving the deep connection he was giving you.

“You feel amazing,” Azriel murmured, his voice low and filled with awe. “Every part of you. I can’t get enough.”

You managed a breathless moan, your fingers gripping the sheets as you writhed beneath him. “Don’t stop,” you gasped. “Please, don’t stop.”

Azriel’s response was a low, rumbling growl of approval. His rhythm never faltered, he was relentless in his devotion, ensuring that every inch of you was covered in his touch, every gasp and shiver met with a responsive stroke. The pressure within you continued to build, the pleasure intensifying with every passing second. Azriel’s hands traced patterns on your skin, his fingers brushing against the most sensitive spots with a skill that made you tremble.

When you were on the verge of losing control, Azriel’s lips found yours once more, his kiss deep and passionate. His movements matched the fervor of the kiss, driving into you with a rhythm that left you gasping and clutching at him. You felt a wave of overwhelming pleasure wash over you. Azriel’s movements became more urgent, his breaths coming in ragged bursts as he drove you to the brink. You clung to him, your body arching and trembling as the climax hit with a powerful intensity.

He followed you into the release, his body shuddering with his own pleasure as he held you close, his grip firm and reassuring. The world seemed to dissolve around you, leaving only the shared warmth and satisfaction of your intimate connection.

Azriel looked down at you with a teasing grin. “You know, we might want to wash up.”

You laughed, catching his playful tone. “Yeah, we probably shouldn’t head back downstairs like this.”

He leaned closer, his grin widening as he scented the air near you. “No, they’ll be able to tell we’ve been at it. You’ve still got some Autumn on you and I’m going to be the one to scrub it off.”

[sooniebby]

ఌ 𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑

w.c › 16k

warnings › Part 2 for this post. Ye-Jun is insane. This relationship is pure toxicity, pls don’t stay with someone like this in real life lol. Translations/songs I used at the end. Homophobia/talk of revenge porn of a minor at the end (it’s not done by Ye-Jun)

plot › Kim Ye-Jun is back in your life. And he doesn’t seem too keen on leaving you anytime soon. While you get insight on how brutal fame can be

kinks › size difference, hate sex, oral sex, manhandling, marking, biting, choking, dubcon, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, sub/dom undertones

words to know › maknae (막내) — youngest. Hyung (형) — a term a younger male with call an older male. Jagiya/Jagi (자기야) — “sweetie/baby.” Knets — Korean Netizens, Korean people on the internet. Dispatch — a Korean blog, known for exposing kpop idols relationships

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟮

𝙈𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙈𝙞𝙣𝙚

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

You had left Ye-Jun that night.

It was nerve wracking to get dressed silently as you watched him like a hawk. Your heart pounding in your chest. You weren’t even sure why you were so fearful. But you managed to leave as quiet as a mouse.

You practically sprinted out of the hotel room as the sun was just rising. Your legs carrying you to the bus before you were driven back to the outskirts of Seoul.

Your feet dragged along the ground as you finally reached your apartment building, wanting to collapse onto your bed for the rest of the day.

“Hyung…!”

You froze, finger pressed against the touch pad. The numbers illuminated as they waited for you to press in the passcode. What?

The time was only 8 am. Dohyun was serious about you not coming over until 10 am. Shit, did they really fuck all night?

Another high pitched moan escaped the apartment as you couldn’t help but smirk. Young-Jae was the youngest out of him and Dohyun. So that meant the one screaming had to be him.

It was funny. Young-Jae the strict top that wouldn’t let you even ask if you could top when you were both fuck buddies. You couldn’t even touch or squeeze his ass. The thought of him bottoming wasn’t anything you even imagined.

Dohyun was more muscular than him. Though Young-Jae was taller and had been growing some muscular these past few months.

You knew not every top had to be tall and muscular. But you couldn’t imagine Dohyun bottoming despite his nicer attitude. But Young-Jae hated the thought of bottoming.

An oddly detailed thought of Dohyun and Young-Jae fighting filled your mind. The idea of them fighting for dominance before Dohyun forced Young-Jae to submit was sexy. You giggled to yourself at the thought before a whine from the apartment interrupted you.

A sane person would’ve just left and come back.

But you weren’t exactly sane.

Besides, everyone in the band has seen each other naked once. You’ve unfortunately seen Won-Shik’s bare ass more times than you count. You would just act shocked and pretend you forgot all about Dohyun’s text from last night.

You typed the passcode onto the touch pad. The familiar hum of the lock twisting before you pushed the door open.

“I’m—!”

Your jaw dropped at what you saw on the couch.

Lee Young-Jae was a strict top. Because he had Park Dohyun bouncing on his cock.

Park Dohyun was the one moaning “Hyung”?! Was that a kink?! An older man calling the younger man “Hyung” during sex seemed so odd but also oddly sexy. You could only stare for a moment, trying to process what you were seeing right in front of you.

It was hot too so you were enjoying the sight of Dohyun’s ass. Shit, it was fat.

“Cho (Name)! Get out!” Young-Jae suddenly yelled, grabbing a couch pillow and throwing it over at you.

You shrieked, managing to dodge. Your eyes went back to Dohyun and Young-Jae. Young-Jae looked mostly smug as he tightened his grip on Dohyun’s waist. Dohyun seemed out of it for the most part, his eyes glossy as he buried his face in Young-Jae’s neck.

“Okay! Okay… I’m leaving. You better be finished by 10 am!!! Dohyun Hyungie promised I can come back by then.. also you better deep clean the house, pervert.”

Young-Jae ignored you, absentmindedly pointing to the front door. You rolled your eyes and left the apartment, slamming the door shut behind you.

You went to the apartment right next door, Dohyun, Yuki, and Won-Shik’s apartment, and punched in the code.

Curses were at the tip of your tongue as you walked inside. You got ready to announce your arrival when you noticed Yuki on the couch. He looked nervous, a shy smile on his lips. Your eyes trailed down and a groan left your throat.

Junho was giving Yuki a hand job.

“All of you are perverts!!! Oh my god!! How can you feel safe to do it on the couch?! Perverts!! I’m going to Won-Shik’s room, because at least he has the decency to rent a hotel room when he wants to fuck someone!!!”

You stormed off to Won-Shik’s room while Junho called your name. Yuki bit his lip as he tried hold in his laugh. The door slammed shut right behind you as you laid down on Won-Shik’s bed.

Perverts!

Junho frowned at the sight of you. He had been worried about you all night. Wanting to check on you, he moved to get up when a hand tightened itself on his hair. He winced and glanced up to see a grin on Yuki’s lips.

“I don’t think I gave you permission to stop, Junnie. (Name) can be alone for a few more minutes.”

For fucks sakes.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Where’s your boyfriend, Ye-Jun? Did he leave you again?”

“Shut the fuck up, Minji.”

Ye-Jun plopped down onto the couch in the recording studio, sending a glare to Minji who was cackling beside him. The band was recording for an upcoming single. Ye-Jun was late by an hour and had unfortunately woken up to the feeling of an empty bed.

You really knew how to piss him off.

“Don’t bully him, Minji. Ye-Jun has a sensitive heart.” Shion said, stepping out of the recording booth. “He’ll go crazy if you remind him his boytoy left him like a one night stand.”

Manager Riwoo sighed. “Can you boys not talk about that type of stuff during recording? You’re not the only ones in here.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking ready to retire at the ripe age of 30.

Shion shrugged. “It’s just you and the composer. Everyone knows by now how much Ye-Jun has an unhealthy obsession with Cho (Name).”

“It’s not unhealthy.” Ye-Jun muttered.

Minji released another cackle at Ye-Jun’s audacity as he walked into the recording booth to record his lines. His laughter could still be heard despite the padded room. Manager Riwoo shook his head and turned his attention over to Minji and the composer.

The couch dipped as Shion plopped down beside Ye-Jun, resting his arm on the others shoulder. Shion was the eldest of the band but had passed on leadership onto Ye-Jun. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t put Ye-Jun into check whenever he deemed necessary.

Like now.

“I don’t care if Cho (Name) has the tightest ass you’ve ever fucked. You better keep yourself contained in public.” Shion whispered, leaning in close so only Ye-Jun could hear.

“Those Knets are sharks, waiting for the slight hint of controversy. Control yourself. Be unhinged in private. Don’t pull a stunt like that at the music show again, okay?”

Ye-Jun rolled his eyes. “Should I stop commenting on his posts?”

“I would like that but you have a limit on how much you listen to your hyung, don’t you?”

A smirk pulled on Ye-Jun’s lips as he tilted his head. Shion looked unimpressed as he sighed.

“Just start liking all of their posts. Knets only like the thought of you possibly being gay. The chance that you are actually gay will be a death sentence.” Shion tapped Ye-Jun’s shoulder before standing up, grabbing his baseball cap to put on.

“I’m heading out, Riwoo Hyung.”

The door closed behind Shion as Ye-Jun watched him leave. It wasn’t like he didn’t take Shion’s words to heart. He knew he was right. Fans only liked the thought of an idol being gay. Him being a band member wouldn’t mean much when many kpop idol fans merge with regular kband fans.

They were rapid and insane either way. Ye-Jun knew he tested his luck that day when he kissed you on stage.

Even though he wanted you—he did love his job.

He sighed. He’d get a headache if he continued to think about this any longer. He pulled out his phone and checked the time.

There was something more important right now.

The fact you thought you could leave him without saying goodbye.

Again.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“I really am the only straight man here.” Won-Shik moaned, resting his face in his hands as he silently cried to himself. You patted him on back, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to comfort him.

Young-Jae still looked smug. “Lighten up, Hyung! Maybe you’ll find a man you wanna fuck and become gay!”

Won-Shik looked over at Young-Jae with a shocked face. “Don’t even say that… I can never abandon the touch of a woman! I’ll be a fool to trade that in for a man’s disgusting hands.”

“Bisexuality exists. Anyway, Jae-Ah, don’t say that. It’s wrong to force a sexuality onto someone.” Dohyun said, shaking his head.

The band was in your apartment, having a movie night. Well, as much as you guys could anyway. It seemed no one was paying enough attention to even pick out a movie on Netflix.

It had been over a week or so since you had sex with Ye-Jun and he hadn’t texted you. You thought maybe he had gotten some sense and left you alone.

Until Roha had texted you yesterday that Ye-Jun’s phone got destroyed—how? You don’t know—and that he’d be getting a new phone in a few days.

You were already dreading the day.

The band had gotten back to normal relatively quickly. Except Young-Jae seemed to think he was hot shit now. Though you knew why. Young-Jae had pined over Dohyun for over four years.

You’d allow him the month to be a dick and then knock some sense into him after.

Yuki walked over two pizza boxes, placing them on the coffee table in front of the couch. Junho was right behind him, holding some blankets.

“Junho Hyung, there’s some white stuff on your lips.” Young-Jae suddenly said.

Junho gasped, dropping the blankets as he quickly wiped at his mouth. Young-Jae and Won-Shik immediately bust out laughing while Dohyun sighed in disappointment at their childish behavior.

“Did you suck Yuki’s dick earlier?!” Won-Shik managed to say despite his laughing.

“I hate you guys.” Junho sighed, bending down to pick up the blankets. He walked over and dropped the blankets on Young-Jae’s head, earning a strangled grunt from the weight of them.

Yuki seemed unbothered by their teasing as he sat down beside you on the couch. He gave you a paper plate and took out two pizza slices for you. You thanked him and began eating, humming in delight.

“How are you and Kim Ye-Jun? Did you guys talk it out?” He asked, looking over at you.

“Mhm… he talked at me. I found out about how he thinks.” You muttered, rolling your eyes. “He called me pathetic but that’s why he wants me.”

“Ah, we have something in common.”

You froze mid bite, looking over at Yuki with a raised eyebrow. Yuki only gave you a wide grin.

“I find Junho pathetic. It’s why I like him.”

“Ah.” Your voice muffled by the pizza as you tried to ignore Yuki’s sudden confession. You knew Yuki could be a bit odd to anyone that wasn’t you. The thought that it would affect Junho made you feel a bit nervous. But you knew Junho would rather jump off a bridge than ever tell you about his relationship with Yuki.

He was the one that was trying to hide it anyway. Yuki was an open book. You could ask him if he masturbated today and he’d answer honestly.

Was his relationship with Yuki similar to yours with Ye-Jun?

Well, Yuki still had morals and didn’t seem to bad mouth Junho so maybe not totally similar.

You remembered the time your band was on a variety show during your debut. The host had called Junho an idiot with only his muscles being the good thing about him. It was a joke, the host was known for making off putting jokes.

Manager Nayoung had drilled that in you guys before the filming.

That didn’t matter to Yuki though. He had cussed out the host. Having to switch to Japanese when he felt that he couldn’t properly speak his feelings in Korean.

Anyway that episode was heavily edited and your band wasn’t invited to that show again. It was for the best. You were pretty sure Yuki’s rant in Japanese would make the Yakuza whimper.

“What do you like about Junho? Is it just that he makes you feel good?” You suddenly asked.

It had slipped out. You didn’t want to ask this with the other members right within ear shot as they began to fight over if they should watch a romcom or horror movie. But you couldn’t help it.

Ye-Jun’s words bothered you.

Yuki hummed. “No. I like his smile. I like how he puts everyone above himself. He’s very motherly. He has dumb jokes but is also shy about sharing his feelings. While he does take care of me, I like taking care of him even when he tries to fight it. He’s just pure. So pure that I want to ruin him. I love him.”

You frowned. What the hell? Why couldn’t Ye-Jun talk about you like this? To hear Yuki talk about Junho like this almost made you want to cry.

He felt so… loved? Does Ye-Jun even love you?

Has he ever told you that he loved you?

The revelation at the thought made you feel bitter so you quickly tried to push it away. You looked over at Yuki and smirked.

“So you top Junnie Hyung?”

“Mhm, yeah.” Yuki said, unabashedly.

“Is it easy? He’s larger than you even though you’re both the same height.”

“He can be pliant. Those muscles are just for show anyway. But I like that he’s bigger than me. Makes it more fun to have him beneath me.”

“Can you both not talk about my sex life like I’m not here?” Junho suddenly said, sitting down beside Yuki. You blushed, muttering an apology to Junho.

“Sorry, Junnie Hyung. I was just curious. I mean, when we had sex you topped me. I wanted to know if you act similar to when you bottom.”

Yuki hummed. “How did he act when he topped?”

“A gentle giant!” You gleamed. “Junnie Hyung didn’t even orgasm that night. He focus solely on me. I felt bad after but he wouldn’t let me take care of him after.”

“Seriously, guys.” Junho muttered, a slight blush on his face. “This is really embarrassing. Can we just watch the movie?”

“Course, my service top.” Yuki said, snickering as Junho looked away with a grimace.

“What’s a service top?” Won-Shik suddenly asked as he sat down on your left.

“Straight people don’t have service tops?” You pursed your lips in confusion.

“Don’t tell him, (Name)! Only tell him when he fucks his first man.” Young-Jae giggled, wincing when Dohyun pinched him on the neck.

Won-Shik glared at Young-Jae and simply grabbed two slices of pizza. The movie began to play after that. It looked like team horror movie won as I saw the Devil began to play.

You mindlessly ate your pizza before a suddenly thought pierced your brain. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

That night you had lied to Ye-Jun about who you slept with. While you were fuck buddies with Young-Jae during your first year as a trainee. You had fucked two other men after him.

Yang Junho. You didn’t want to tell Ye-Jun the truth that night because of how much he seemed to hate him. Deep down you knew Ye-Jun would never hurt you—physically—but that didn’t mean you weren’t scared of what he’d do to Junho.

You hoped to god that Ye-Jun never figured that out.

It was someone else that you worried about Ye-Jun finding out about.

Song Noeul.

At first when you thought about it, Ye-Jun probably wouldn’t have known who he was. Until when you were going on Ye-Jun’s Instagram—you were bored—that you saw Noeul in one of his pictures.

Noeul was first a trainee to be an idol before shifting to be an actor instead. And lucky for you, Noeul was in one of the dramas Black Rose made an OST for.

To make matters worse, Song Noeul looked like a friend to Kim Ye-Jun.

And you didn’t want to know what would happen if Ye-Jun learned that his “friend” fucked you a few years ago.

Yeah, you didn’t want anything bad to happen to Noeul. Or worse you, for lying about Junho.

Of course, luck was never known to be on your side, was it?

❝ 날 그대로 받아들여, 너의 두려운 ❞

It had been a month or so and you had luck on your side. Ye-Jun was too preoccupied with Black Rose’s promotion for their OST to bother you. You practically danced around when he had texted you that he wouldn’t be able to visit you for the next few weeks.

Of course that didn’t stop him from commenting on your posts. He had started to like the other guys posts but still only commented on yours.

Wasn’t too shocking. You and Yuki still were the only ones that posted religiously. Dohyun was a close second.

You were enjoying the two month break the company had given you guys. So of course Yuki took that time to go to back home to Japan, but his parents were nice enough to invite the band to stay two weeks at their home.

So here you were—enjoying Kyoto, Japan. Yuki’s parents were richer than you had imagined but you wouldn’t complain.

You were outside in the parents garden when you decided to take a selfie with the sunset in the background. You kept the caption short and sweet: 잘 자 💤!

@BRseo_minji commented : @BRkim_yejun, your Cho (Name) is saying good night to other men ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

A frown pulled on your lips. Right. The other Black Rose members also started to bother you. Just your luck.

@BRpark_shion responded : get off your phone and pay attention to the interview please

@BRim_roha commented : when do you come back, (Name)-Ah? I want to see you

@BRhwang_hanbin responded : you have a death wish, Roha Hyung??? Ye-Jun Hyung is gonna kill you ㅎㅎㅎ

@BRkim_yejun commented : your smile killed me ㅠㅠ the sunset doesn’t compare to your beauty

@BRpark_shion responded : can you have a little shame?

@BRhwang_hanbin responded : this isn’t you hyung…

@BRim_roha responded : if only you could put this poetic shit into our lyrics…

@BRseo_minji responded : fa—

“Fa—?” You muttered, wondering what Minji could’ve meant. It took a moment before a certain slur popped up in your mind. A smile threatened to leave your lips. That’s not right. You couldn’t laugh, you shouldn’t laugh.

You decided to read the other comments on your post. Mainly fans saying how cute you were. A few commenting on how cool it was that Black Rose was so close to Love Countdown. Some even saying they wanted a future collab. Like hell you’d want that.

Just as you were about to walk inside, your phone began to ring. You groaned at the caller ID.

Kim Ye-Jun.

You wanted to let it ring but another part of you missed his voice. So you reluctantly answered. The sound of bustling laughter and hushed voices escaped your phone as you could make out Roha saying something before it drowned out. A door slammed shut before it was quiet.

“Jagiya?”

Your stomach did an involuntary flip as you bit your lip. “Y..Yes, Kim Ye-Jun?”

“Kim Ye-Jun? It’s Junnie Hyung.” Ye-Jun answered. “What are you doing?”

“You lost the privilege for me to call you that.” You said bluntly, feeling a bit brave that he couldn’t see you. “I’m just checking out Yuki Hyung’s garden back in Kyoto.”

“Is it just you and him alone?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, everyone in the band came to visit. I don’t know why you’re so possessive, Kim Ye-Jun. I’m not yours.”

“Mhm. Anyway, I wanted to apologize about something.”

Your body froze as your breathing hitched. Apologize? Was he going to apologize for what he did? Was he—

“Sorry I haven’t been able to talk to you. I broke my phone when I threw it at Minji a few weeks ago but when I got a new phone I still couldn’t check on you because we had to promote our single for the drama. It’s a romcom I think.”

“Oh.” You tried to hide the disappointment. “Wait, you threw your phone at Seo Minji? What the hell?”

“Yeah. He was talking shit so I made him shut his mouth. But I missed anyway—he’s too fast.”

“But why your phone?”

“It was the only thing in my hand. I would’ve thrown the weights nearby but I wanted something easier to throw.”

“Uhm. You’re talking pretty lightly about attempted murder.”

“I didn’t want him to die. It didn’t even hit him. Anyway, have you been eating?”

You hummed. “Yeah. Uhm. Kim Ye-Jun, do you… like me or something? Why are you still after me when it’s been five years? It didn’t seem like you liked me all that much back then.”

“Like you? I guess I do. You’re my wallpaper on my phone. I look back at our photos back in university.”

“You didn’t delete them…?”

“Why would I? I look bad in them but you look pretty. You always look pretty. Did you delete yours?”

“Ah. Yeah… I did. I didn’t recover them.”

“Oh. Well I’ll just send what I have over to you. You should also put our picture as your wallpaper, shows your taken.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Taken? Yah, Kim Ye-Jun, you’re really funny. Do I not get a choice in being your fuck buddy again?”

“Fuck buddy? No, you’re mine. You don’t get a choice. You never did.”

A sense of dread creeped up your spine as you stood still, taking in his words. Was.. was he serious?

“(Name), Junho Hyung is calling for you.” A voice startled you as you looked back to see Young-Jae walking over to you.

Young-Jae frowned at the look on your face as he glanced at your phone. He mouthed: who’s that?

“Yang Junho? He’s there?”

You almost talked back to him. Of fucking course Junho was there. It was originally supposed to be a couple trip for Junho and Yuki anyway until his parents told him to invite the rest of you. That’s why Junho and Yuki was staying the month while you all were staying the two weeks.

“Kim Ye-Jun?” Young-Jae suddenly said out loud, causing your eyes to widen. He shook his hand and reached out to grab your phone despite your protests. “Yah, Kim Ye-Jun, bother him when he’s back in Seoul. Leave him alone when he’s on vacation.” He hung up right after that.

“Shit. Man, that Kim Ye-Jun is getting on my nerves. He’s so clingy. How do you put up with him?”

You shrugged. “I don’t think I have a choice.”

“I heard he hates Junho Hyung, why? Does he know that you guys fucked? Wait, does he know that we fucked?” Young-Jae asked, his eyes widening.

“I did tell him about us but he didn’t seem to view you as a threat… Maybe he noticed you like Dohyun Hyung. But I.. I lied about my relationship with Junho Hyung. I was just a bit scared.”

“You shouldn’t be afraid of someone. That’s not normal. Do you want to report him or something?”

You sighed. “I’m not sure. What can I realistically report for him? I don’t refuse him when he calls. Yeah I told him to go away but I always end up going back to him.”

“Hm.” Young-Jae sighed, shaking his head. “You need to grow a backbone, (Name)-Ah. Or at the very least, show him that you will have an equal standing in this relationship.”

“What do you mean?”

“He pulls all the punches. If you can’t find it yourself to leave this toxic swamp you’re swimming in, become as equally as toxic. Punch him back.”

“Toxic swamp? Wasn’t that a lyric in our song?”

“Shut up and take my advice.”

“Alright, Alright. I’ll punch him back.”

Young-Jae rolled his eyes before walking back into the house. You followed close behind. Yuki was on the couch with an irritated Junho. Junho looked to be trying to leave but Yuki had his arms wrapped around his waist.

“You called me, Junnie Hyung?” You asked, walking over to them.

“(Name)-Ah,” Junho smiled up at you as he continued trying to pull at Yuki’s tight grip. “Sorry to bother you. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. You looked a bit scared on the phone.”

“You could see me?”

Yuki hummed. “Junho was watching you before I pulled him onto the couch.”

“Wow, you’re like my mom, Junnie Hyung.”

“A mom that fucked you.”

“Yuki Hyung!” Junho swore, glaring at Yuki who could only laugh. He tugged Junho closer and burrowed his face in his muscular back.

“Who were you talking to, (Name)-Ah? Kim Ye-Jun?” Yuki asked.

“Mhm. He was apologizing for not talking to me often.” You muttered.

“But not for allowing his friends to call you a slut?” Junho rolled his eyes, giving up on his attempt to break free from Yuki’s grip.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “He’d never apologize for that. Not unless I force him to. But then it wouldn’t be satisfying.”

“Who’s Kim Ye-Jun?” Won-Shik walked over to you guys, eating an onigiri. “Why do I never know what you guys are talking about?”

“Because you’re straight.” Young-Jae yelled from the kitchen.

“Shut the fuck up, Lee Young-Jae!”

“Kim Ye-Jun from Black Rose.” Dohyun said, walking over with a plate filled with onigiri that he placed on the coffee table in front of the couch. “He’s been bothering (Name).”

“Our maknae?” Won-Shik’s expression stilled as he glanced over at you. “Should I kill him?”

“No—!”

“—yes!”

You stared over at Junho in shock. Junho gave you a sheepish smile. “I’ll make sure I’m Won-Shik’s alibi so we don’t have to continue on as five.”

“You can’t kill him yet.” Was all Dohyun said as the leader, sitting down on the couch. You expected him to oppose such a thing but it seemed he also hated Ye-Jun.

Shit. You couldn’t help but feel giddy at how much your band mates loved you.

You thought back to Young-Jae’s advice. Punch him back. The thought seemed silly because what could you do that would hurt Kim Ye-Jun?

Then you remembered Song Noeul.

You knew what would drive him insane.

You just had to have the guts to pull through with it.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

The two month break flew by fast and it was already May. For the groups comeback, your company decided on a happy and love filled single that felt like running through a field of flowers with your lover.

“Don’t you think these lyrics are a bit too sad, (Name)-Ah?” Dohyun looked over at you. You had given him your journal with lyrics you had written to share for the upcoming single.

“Is it? That’s what I was thinking when the company gave us the theme.” You scooted the rolling chair over to Dohyun. The both of you were in a composing room. Won-Shik and Yuki had already made the melody and recorded a small demo.

You and Dohyun were the ones that usually made the lyrics. Junho and Young-Jae occasionally wrote lyrics for your more angsty or depressing songs.

Your lyrics would always be sappy and happy—sometimes a bit cringy so Dohyun usually had to tweak them a bit.

“Yeah.” Dohyun muttered, looking back down at your journal. “These are a bit sad.”

How deep is your love?

묻고 싶어요

I want to ask

더 깊진 않더라도

Even if it can't be deeper

같을 순 없을까요?

Can't it be the same as mine?

“Oh.” You muttered, reading over the lyrics you wrote. Dohyun was right, this didn’t scream happy love. Your lips pursed into a frown as you flipped to the next page of lyrics you had written in accordance to the demo.

모르길 바라요

I hope you don't know

이런 내 마음을

These feelings

사랑하고 있어도

Even when I'm in love

혼자인 것만 같아

I feel alone.

“Uhm. Why don’t we just use your lyrics. I don’t think we can use these.” You slammed your journal shut and pulled it away from Dohyun, shoving it back into your backpack.

“Are you okay, (Name)-Ah?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

The rest of the session was awkward to say the least. Dohyun seemed fidgety as if he wanted to talk to you but also didn’t want to scare you away.

You appreciated your hyung but you also didn’t want to admit that Kim Ye-Jun had such an effect on you after all these years.

What did you even like about him?

What was he to you?

“Y’know,” Dohyun suddenly whispered. “For the Love’s Fool album, the lyrics I put in there were about Jae.”

You froze, looking over at Dohyun in shock. “Huh? Really?”

“Mhm. The third song in the album is basically about Jae. Purely about the guilt I felt for falling in love with him. Seeing him as something more than my dongsaeng.”

“The third song.. But that’s the only upbeat song on the album.”

“I know. We can still use your lyrics even if they’re sad. But I mainly wanted to tell you that you don’t have to feel embarrassed about writing lyrics on Kim Ye-Jun. Junho’s songs are mostly about past relationships anyway.”

“Junho Hyung had past relationships?”

Dohyun grinned. “Your Junho hyung was a little too outgoing back during our trainee days. Though he’d never tell you.”

It was silent for a moment as you watched Dohyun begin to add a few of your lyrics into his own, mixing them around to have a perfect flow and rhythm that matched the composition.

After a moment or so, you decided to try and forget all about your problems by being a menace.

“Hyungie, remember when I caught you and Jae Hyung fucking? Why did you look so out of it? If I didn’t know Jae Hyung, I would’ve been worried that he was taking advantage of you.”

Dohyun blushed, his pen dragging against the paper as he began to stutter. It took a moment before he could even say anything.

“Sub.. Sub space. I was in sub space. That’s all.”

“Sub space? What’s that?”

“It’s just a mental feeling a submissive can get into during sex. I was a bit scared being in it, I’ve never experienced it before. But it’s not dangerous. Jae knew how to take care of me.”

“Not fair… I’ve never experienced that!” You whined, pouting your lips. “Does it feel good?”

“I guess. It makes me feel safe now.”

You thought back to the sex you’ve had these past few years. The feeling that Dohyun had described and the one you had seen with your own eyes seemed foreign. There were a few times you felt tired after sex… but that’s normal.

Dohyun had looked completely out of it—like he was on another planet. You’ve never had that feeling.

Was it because Dohyun trusted Young-Jae?

A few hours later you and Dohyun left the company building. Dohyun went his separate way—having a dinner with his parents for his dad’s birthday.

You absentmindedly hummed to yourself as you pulled out your phone. Who could you bother for the night? Your finger swiped across the screen as you scrolled through your contacts.

The scroll stopped right on Roha’s number. He did say to contact him whenever you were back.

Despite being Ye-Jun’s friend, you liked Roha separately from him. You could be Roha’s friend without Ye-Jun’s permission! You were a grown adult. So, you called Roha and hoped he was free for some tteokbokki.

“Why did you want me to lie to Ye-Jun?”

Roha asked, a smug expression on his face as he took a sip of his beer. You grinned sheepishly as you poked at your salad. The two of you were at a small tteokbokki restaurant that you used to visit here often back in your uni days.

“You don’t have to tell Ye-Jun everything. Are you his child?” You set on asking, eyeing Roha nervously.

“No,” Roha shrugged. “Your relationship to me is separate from Ye-Jun. I never told him the things you told me.”

You perked up at that. “Really..? That means…?”

“No, he doesn’t know that you’ve played the violin since you were in diapers. He never asked so I never told him. If he likes you, he’d want to learn things about you.”

“Wow. How are you and Ye-Jun even friends? You seem so different?”

“If I haven’t met Ye-Jun back in elementary school I wouldn’t be friends with him.” Roha answered, shoving a tteokbokki in his mouth. “Not everyone can handle him… But you seem to be able to.”

“I don’t know about that.” You muttered.

“You haven’t reported him or anything. Or filed a complaint. Or done anything to get him to truly back off.”

“Yeah… But…”

“It’s okay, (Name). The heart is confusing.” Roha looked up at you. “Are you going to let him continue to have total control over the relationship? Back in university you used to dog walk him with ease.”

“I did?” You questioned, tilting your head in confusion. “How…?”

“You technically didn’t do much. You acted like yourself. Because in the end—Kim Ye-Jun can’t handle you being angry at him.”

“Hm. Well it doesn’t even feel like he likes me. Just that he feels like he owns me.”

“That’s probably how he thinks. Ye-Jun isn’t good with expressing himself. He doesn’t write lyrics for our romantic songs. He’s always had this tendency to think he owns people that he loves.”

“Does he think he owns you?”

“He used to. Until I socked him in the face when he tried to forbid me from doing something.” Roha smirked. “Then he learned he had a limit on how much he could “try” to control me.”

“Does he think he owns the other band members?”

“Course. His family is odd, I think that’s where he got that idea. His older brother acts the same way. Even their mother.”

You froze at the mention of Ye-Jun’s family. He never spoke to you about them. Though you couldn’t get too mad about that. It was the same for you never mentioning your parents.

“Does his…—?”

“—family know you? Yeah. He always sent pictures of you to them. You just never met them because they live in Jeju. If they didn’t, you would’ve been met them.”

“Oh. Wait you’re from Jeju Island?”

“Yeah. Did I never tell you? Ah, anyway. Was there something you wanted to ask about Ye-Jun? Or did you really want to hang out with me?”

You pouted. “I did want to hang out with you…”

Roha raised an eyebrow.

“…Both. I did have a question about Ye-Jun. Is he close to Song Noeul?”

“Song Noeul? The actor? Yeah they got close when we made the OST for the drama he was in. Now I get to ask a question in return.”

You watched as Roha pulled out his phone and began scrolling to find a picture. Your breathing hitched at the picture he showed you.

It was a picture of you and Noeul. When you were younger, maybe two years ago? Noeul had his arms around your waist as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Your noses were touching and it looked like you were mid laugh.

No one could try to spin that picture as anything but couple like.

“How’d you…?”

Roha frowned, turning his phone off. “I got it from someone anonymous. I thought it was photoshopped but it’s real. I haven’t shown anyone.”

“Did you ask for it?”

“No way. I wouldn’t try to sabotage you or Song Noeul’s career. I’m just telling you because I think someone is trying to dim Song Noeul’s career and you’re unfortunately about to be hit in the cross fire.”

You frowned, trying to take in the information.

“They also sent stuff about me. Just pictures of me smoking. That’s about it. I’m not sure who it could be. Maybe an ex lover of Song Noeul.”

“Ex lover?”

“He could’ve left his old lover when he started to get famous. The lover got jealous and wants to bring him down. Seems the only dirt they can get on him is that he dated a man.”

“Why don’t they use pictures of him with them if they dated?”

“They don’t want to get found out. Especially if they could be a man themselves. Anyway, I’m just telling you to be careful. They could be following you to see if you interact with Song Noeul again.”

The rest of the dinner felt heavy as you thought about Roha’s warning. Fuck, forget all about the plan with making Ye-Jun angry. You could be outed by some jealous ex lover!

You got home feeling heavy and scared. Sure, Korea was getting progressive these days. But all you could think about was the korean host who came out as gay and got black listed for years!

Straight kpop idols get taken from groups or slammed to death for dating each other.

Sure your group wasn’t too big but you were gaining a sizable fan base. Fuck.

You laid down on your bed and stared up at the ceiling. Should you tell someone? You knew your company wouldn’t be angry—Manager Nayoung was openly a lesbian and even a few other staff members were gay. There was a gay flag in one of the recording rooms!

Dohyun wouldn’t be angry. Won-Shik would find a way to get a murder charge. Yuki would probably also get arrested for murder. Junho would comfort you. Young-Jae would laugh at you before comforting you in his own way.

The soft sputtering of the fan almost lulled into a sleepless slumber when your phone lit up. You reached over and grabbed your phone off the countertop.

It was Ye-Jun.

He just a sent a picture.

An old one.

His hair was a buzz cut. He had no smile on his lips as he stared straight at the camera. You wondered what could be worth sending this when you noticed yourself in the picture.

In the back, you were standing by the door of what you could only assume was a classroom. A wide smile on your face as you looked to be talking to someone that was off frame.

Was this him trying to take a picture of you in secret?

Kim Ye-Jun

↳ The first ever picture I took of you.

↳ freshman orientation

↳ your smile is your best feature

↳ 너무 예뻐서, 자기.

Cheesy.

You laughed, closing your eyes as you placed your phone back on the nightstand. Your throat felt tight as you placed your hands over your eyes. A heavy feeling began to swell in your chest as your lips began to twitch.

Fuck.

You were so emotional.

He was messing with you at this point.

With Young-Jae and Roha’s talk about taking control, you knew you had to if you didn’t have the strength to release Kim Ye-Jun from your heart.

You needed to punch Kim Ye-Jun in the face.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

↳ you thiink jostt becaze everyone knows your nume that you can just forgot me like that

↳ you werant anyone spezial before I met you song noeul answwwer me you son of a bitch

↳ couldnt get in tuchh with that kim yejun bastaardrd had to go though his frend since when did you hing out with puple like them do they have accentts when they talk they’re from jeju yea

↳ youre facking kim yejun huh or maybe youre stiiill with that shortiiie from that shitty bannds cho (name) I knew you left me for him

↳ whats gaing to hupoen is your fault song noeul you culdve just taken me back instud of dumping me like

↳ those fens of yours are guna be pessed when they releize thiy fell in love wiz a faggot

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Guys, guess who just started following us on Instagram!” Won-Shik bursted into the recording room, ignoring Dohyun’s call for him to calm down. He pulled out his phone and showed you and Young-Jae the Instagram account.

“Huh? Who’s that? I don’t pay attention to actors.” Young-Jae asked.

Your eyes narrowed as you looked at the username.

@Yoursunset

(송노을) 7.9m followers 289 Following

“Your sunset?” Junho muttered, leaning over to try and get a better look as well.

Won-Shik hummed. “Well yeah, it makes sense. His name means glow of sunset.”

“His name is Noeul?” Dohyun asked.

Your eyes widened as you took Won-Shik’s phone away from him, ignoring his yell. You swiped at the account and took a look at the pictures. It was him. It really was Song Noeul. He was following the band’s account!

It shocked you that he was so popular. A year ago he only had a mere 98k followers. His dramas must’ve been getting mainstream attention for him to blow up like that.

His pictures looked to be promoting a new kdrama he was a side character as. A light hearted romcom. After that it was just pictures of him on his day to day life. Until you reached two years ago, he earned a lead role in a crime kdrama.

One of the pictures had him with Black Rose. This must’ve been the OST they made back then.

He even had a few pictures alone with Ye-Jun. of course Ye-Jun’s smile looked forced and strained but he did look semi happy near Noeul.

You clicked on Noeul’s recent story to see he was answering questions from fans. And one question asked whats his new favorite album.

Lo and behold he answered with “Love���s Fool” plus a link to your band’s account. The next question was a fan jokingly asking if he’s cheating on Black Rose which he answered with a picture of him and Ye-Jun with an X emoji on Ye-Jin’s face.

The caption said: “Ending relationship with Black Rose, Love Countdown is now my husband”

“Uh,” Won-Shik coughed, raising an eyebrow at your behavior. “Anyway the reason why I was telling you guys this is because this guy is popular! Look at how much followers he has. He just promoted us on his page. We’ll get so many new fans from him!”

Young-Jae looked over at you. “(Name) knows him.”

The rest of the group looked at you in shock. “Huh?!” They yelled in unison.

Right. Your relationship with Noeul was discrete. Especially when he left for another agency to debut as an actor instead. Only Young-Jae had known and it wasn’t because you had told him.

Young-Jae had unfortunately walked in on you having phone sex with Noeul. It was something you tried forgetting.

“(Name)-Ah, you know him?! Are you guys still friends?!” Won-Shik grabbed your face as he squished your cheeks together, making you look up at him. “Are you close? Do you know his MBTI??”

“MBTI…?” Yuki asked, tilting his head.

“Calm down, Won-Shik! (Name)-Ah can’t speak with you squishing his face like that.” Dohyun pulled Won-Shik away as you rubbed your cheeks now that they were free.

“Uh,” you muttered. “Yeah, we’re friends. Well, we were closer back then but I lost contact with him. I think he changed his number and unfortunately I never got it.”

Junho patted you on the back. “Maybe you can try to reconnect? It’s good to have friends that are outside of us.”

“Yeah, use him to get more fans!” Young-Jae grinned.

“Don’t listen to Jae.” Dohyun cut in, glaring at Young-Jae. “Junho is right. You need more friends.”

“I have Roha Hyung.” You pouted.

Junho shook his head. “Yeah, that’s a problem. You need friends outside of your band mates and outside of Kim Ye-Jun’s best friend.”

“Kim Ye-Jun is friends with Noeul…”

“But you knew Song Noeul first! So technically you have a right to be close to him.” Yuki chimed in.

Won-Shik grinned. “Think of it this way. You get a new friend and some extra connections for our band!”

“Stop thinking about money, Won-Shik!”

“Hey, money makes the world go round! We gotta get a deal for an OST before our second year anniversary!!!”

You began to tune out Won-Shik’s and Dohyun’s bickering as you glanced down at Noeul’s account.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt. Though the whole thing with someone threatening to out Noeul bothered you. Despite worrying about yourself—you worried about Noeul even more.

Now that you knew he was gaining popularity, he had more to lose at being outed.

At the very least… You thought it was in your best interest to warn Noeul that someone was threatening to ruin his career.

Now you just had to find a way to get close to him again. Would he even want to speak to you?

The rest of the day was spent in the recording booth. Won-Shik and Dohyun bickering. Young-Jae not so subtly fondling Dohyun’s ass whenever he thought no one was looking. Yuki and Junho snuggled together on the couch as Yuki occasionally bit Junho’s cheek.

You stayed on the far right of the couch—pondering on ways to creep back into Noeul’s life.

Message him on Instagram? No, his company probably checks his DMs.

Do a post and tag him? Would that be weird?

Go to his agency and ask to meet him? No way.

Ask Ye-Jun for his number? You’d rather jump off a bridge.

Maybe you’d have to just post and tag him.

Your phone suddenly lights up with a text from Ye-Jun. Speak of the devil.

It was another picture. One of him again. It looked to be taken not even a few days ago. He was dressed in a black harness that was over a skin tight white t-shirt. A black choker. You couldn’t see his lower half. But you could see his eye makeup.

Intense was putting it lightly. The eyeshadow was a dark black. His face was lightened up with a bit of white blush. A bit gothic? He still wasn’t smiling, of course. Another picture was sent, this time with a message.

↳ Our first OST filming

↳ Just remembered it

↳ It’s been two years, I think my hair cut looks similar to how it is now

↳ should I dye my hair? What’s your favorite color?

The picture made you do a double take. It was of him and Noeul. Noeul was dressed in a regular outfit. A black sweater with a hat on. He must’ve been visiting to see the music video happen.

It was a stark contrast. Noeul had a wide smile. His eyes forming into crescent moons as he put up a peace sign. Ye-Jun still looked dead at the camera with not even a hint of a smile.

Seeing Noeul felt different. He matured since you last saw him. He still had those sharp monolid eyes. Shaggy black hair. Soft plump lips.

Ye-Jun and Noeul didn’t look too far off from each other now that they were close.

Huh, you really did have a type.

You almost began to text Ye-Jun, asking him about Noeul but decided against it.

You knew a good way to get his attention.

Your eyes flickered back onto the picture. It almost felt like Ye-Jun staring right at you. His eyes were intense. Almost cold.

Were his eyes always this cold?

❝ 차가운 네 눈이 나를 삼켜 ❞

The first time you ever met Song Noeul, he was quiet. Unnaturally quiet. So you stuck to him like glue.

Opposites attract. That’s what they say.

Even when he decided to become an actor instead—you still walked thirty minutes to meet him. It was pure friendship at first.

He was different personality wise from Ye-Jun but somehow had a familiar aura to him. Maybe a version of Ye-Jun you thought you had known.

Noeul was dating someone. Someone that you knew was treating him badly. You had once tried to relate it to your relationship with Ye-Jun until you saw the bruises on Noeul’s face one day.

That person was dangerous. Noeul never told you who it was—never even told your their gender.

It wasn’t until a year later, the day that you had finally been chosen in the final lineup for your company’s upcoming band that your relationship with Noeul was no longer platonic.

You had ran to him and tackled him into a hug outside of his agency. Your noses touched together as you excitedly told him the good news. It wasn’t even a moment later before he kissed you.

Then it just continued from there.

But all good things seem to always end for you. Noeul had gotten his first role as a side character in a kdrama and you got busy with your debut. You both just…drifted apart by pure accident.

A sigh left your lips as the memories began to flood your brain. Song Noeul was just too good to be true. You almost didn’t want to bother him. But you tried to tell yourself that he deserved to know about someone attempting to ruin his career.

You looked back, making sure the sunset was in view. You were out at the park—Junho and Young-Jae wanted to go for a walk so you tagged along. They were both doing some type of weird work out on the public bench as you tried to get a good angle for your picture.

Your lips pulled into a grin as you took multiple pictures. After going through them—you picked the three that you looked the best in and began to draft a post for Instagram.

The caption read: 안녕, 여러분!! 노을이 예쁘죠?

It was a bit one the nose but you were desperate. If you wanted to talk about the sunset, you would’ve used “일몰” instead of Noeul. Only a dumbass wouldn’t get your message.

@BRim_roha commented : ah, cute—I should steal you for myself

@BRhwang_hanbin responded : HYUNG STOP!!! Ye-Jun Hyung will kill you for real!

@BRseo_minji responded : didn’t you tell us earlier to stop spamming his comment section?

@BRpark_shion responded : you idiots make it seem like we have nothing better to do. WE ARE STILL DOING PROMOTIONS DUMBASS!!!!

@BRkim_yejun commented : why are you all here before me….? Anyway, so pretty, Jagi. Why did you use 노을?

You sighed. Of course those stupid fucks were already spamming your comment section. You scrolled past their conversation as Minji and Hanbin got into an argument.

Your heart felt like it was being clenched by a hand. Squeezed tightly as if you couldn’t breathe anymore. Maybe he wouldn’t get it. Maybe he didn’t even care about you like that and just liked your music?

Maybe he didn’t even want to talk to you ever again because he’s living a better life now and how could he possibly want a reminder about his before and and—

@Yoursunset commented : Yeah, I think I’m very pretty ㅋㅋㅋ

You definitely didn’t squeal, most definitely not. Young-Jae glanced over at you with an unimpressed look. Junho gave you smile before turning his attention back to his workout.

Perfect. Everything would be set in motion, one step at a time.

The next few weeks you would post something that Noeul would comment on. He made no attempt to try and go any further with that and you were set on keeping it there as well.

This would be enough. It could be enough for you.

It didn’t make much sense in your mind.

Ye-Jun was crazy but you liked him. Noeul was seemingly normal and you liked him.

Was it normal to like two men at the same time?

Did you even feel love for Noeul or was it just nostalgia?

You were just confused these days.

And you began to notice an odd uptick in Ye-Jun’s behavior. More so the fact he hasn’t been talking or texting you.

But everything is going to be fine.

Right?

Yeah… You knew deep down it wasn’t.

❝ 불안하게 만드는 거야 왜? ❞

It was a fine and calming day. Love Countdown was doing the photoshoot for their upcoming single: Spring Day. The theme was fun and more upbeat than the previous comeback.

The photo shoots were always fun for you. Dressing in cool outfits. The funky sets. And even just taking pictures with your hyungs was a blast.

You had just finished up your solo photoshoot when your phone began to rang. It was Ye-Jun. Your body froze as you stared at your phone, slipping on your jacket. It had been a few weeks since he’d call.

It felt like your heart was hammering in your chest as you let it ring. You couldn’t answer it. You knew it wouldn’t be smart to answer it with staff around you. The call ended and a message was swiftly sent to you.

↳ meet me at the hotel. You know which one

He didn’t send anything else after that. You didn’t respond. You’d go either way. Fuck, why were you going? But before you knew it—you were standing at the hotel he took you that day after Manager Nayoung’s birthday party.

There was another text sent to you with the room number once you reached it. How’d he..?

You didn’t question it, going straight to the room. Maybe you can finally do what Young-Jae and Roha told you to do. Punch Kim Ye-Jun.

Your knuckles rasped against the door for only a second when it pulled open. A shocked grunt left your lips as Ye-Jun pulled you inside the room. He slammed the door shut behind himself as you stared at him shock.

Gosh, seeing him after almost five months was a bit surreal. He was clean faced and a bit sweaty, maybe he had ran over here? His hair was messy as he stood up straight. You stopped giving him a glance over and looked him in the eye.

Oh.

He was angry.

“Cho (Name)…”

Fuck. Fuck, he was probably going to talk about Junho.

“What’s your relationship to Song Noeul? You’ve practically been flirting with him for the last few weeks. What the fuck is that? He’s my friend, y’know?”

You couldn’t help the slight smirk on your lips. At least Junho was safe. “Your friend…? Ah, right. You think you know me, hm? Well, I know Song Noeul. Longer than you have.”

“Longer than me? How? I’ve known him for over three years now.”

“Mhm. Why should I tell you? Can I not have a relationship with Song Noeul? Is he yours? Roha Hyung said that you have an odd tendency to take ownership over people.”

“Ownership?” Ye-Jun laughed. “What else did Roha Hyung tell you? Tell you about our kindergarten days? High school days before I went off to the military?”

“No. Because if I want to learn someone about you—I’ll ask you. Because if you like someone—you’d want to learn everything about them.”

Ye-Jun’s eyes widen and he almost looked shocked before he shook his head. “You didn’t answer my question. What’s your relationship to Song Noeul?”

“Remember when you asked me about who I slept with? I told you about a trainee that you wouldn’t have known about… I was wrong—you clearly know Noeul-Ah.”

“He’s not a hyung to you?”

“He was born the year after mines.” You grinned, enjoying the look of shock on his face. “You’d know that… if you remembered my birthday.”

“You’re really cocky these days, (Name)-Ah. It’s cute. Real cute. It’s almost making me wonder why I’m still wanting you.”

You glared at him. “That’s all you can think about. You only want me. Do you… Do you even like me? What do you even like about me? How pathetic I am to you?”

Yuki’s words about Junho were flooding back to you. Why were you so after Ye-Jun? Why did you let him crawl into your heart? Why did you even let him come back?

“What do you want me to say, (Name)?”

“I…That you love me. That you don’t just find me pathetic.. That… That there’s other things you like about me.. y’know? My personality… things I do.”

“Love you?” Ye-Jun’s eyebrows farrowed as he stared at you in shock. He sighed, rubbing at his forehead. “What’s with this all of sudden? You didn’t care that I didn’t say it much back then. Why now?”

Your lips pressed into a straight line as you glared at him. “You don’t even say it all. Just.. why do you want me?”

Ye-Jun glanced over at you. “I don’t know. I don’t know, (Name). When you left me, I felt empty. I don’t know what these feelings are but I know that I can’t be without you.”

“Yeah? Well, I know how to speak about my feelings. And I know when to admit my mistakes.”

“Mistakes?”

“Mhm. You won’t ever apologize for what you did to me but I’ll apologize to you right now. I lied. I did fuck Yang Junho. No, he fucked me. He fucked me good and I liked every—”

A strangled gasp left your throat as Ye-Jun grabbed your arm and slammed you against the wall. His lips smashed against yours as you tried pushing him away. But he was stronger, tightening his hold on your arms as he moved to cage you against the wall.

Your hands gripped at his shirt when you realized you had no strength to push him off. His teeth bit at your lip as he pressed his body against yours.

He finally pulled away from the kiss, glaring down at you. “Yang Junho, huh?”

A smirk pulled on your lips as you stared up at him. Your lip burned. Fuck, did he cut it open?

“Yeah. Yang Junho. Does that piss you off? Make you angry?”

“Keep talking, Cho (Name). It pisses me off even more. But that’s what you want. To piss me off.”

“Maybe. Does the thought of Yang Junho fucking me into the bed make you angry? Does it make you hate me for abandoning you for someone better?”

Ye-Jun blinked as he took in your words. A slow smirk pulled on his lips as he let out a laugh.

“Yeah, it makes me hate you.”

His hands trailed down to your legs and gripped your thighs. He hoisted you up with ease as he carried you over to the bed. You grunted when you were unceremoniously dropped without a warning. Hands gripped your jeans as Ye-Jun pulled off it off.

You reached up and slipped off your shirt, readying to take off your boxers when you heard the sound of fabric tearing.

“Kim Ye-Jun! That’s the second pair of boxers you’ve tore!”

Ye-Jun didn’t answer you, his gaze hard as he slipped off his own shirt. You gulped. Maybe you really did make him angry this time. Your gaze followed Ye-Jun as he gripped your waist. He easily turned you over into your stomach, ignoring your yelps.

The sound of skin slapping caused you to shriek, back arching. He really just spanked you. His hands gripped the soft flesh of your ass, slowly spreading you open. Your hands gripped into the bedsheets as you waited in anticipation of what he was going to do.

Teeth sunk into your ass, earning a shuddered gasp from you. Ye-Jun bit and marked at your ass. He left no space of your ass unmarked. Your cock twitched as you slowly grind against the bed, giving yourself some form of relief.

You gasped, hips jittering as you felt a tongue lick around your hole. Ye-Jun’s nails dug into your skin as he began to mouth at your hole. The feeling of his tongue threatening to slip inside sent you into a frenzy.

It had to have been because you hadn’t had sex in over five months. Didn’t help you would sometimes over hear Young-Jae and Dohyun having the time of their lives late at night.

“K..Kim Ye-Jun…” You whimpered, gasping as you felt spit coat your rim. “No lube..?!”

“You don’t deserve lube.” Was all Ye-Jun said before his middle and ring finger teased your outer rim. Your body shivered. Fuck, fuck.

The fingers pressed against your hole before he slammed it inside, earning a cry from you. You subconsciously rose your ass up as Ye-Jun began to finger fuck you. Without lube there was a slight burn. But it only made you more horny.

Ye-Jin’s fingers curled, teasing your wet inner wall as you gasped. A graze against your prostate earned a strangled whimper from you as you bit your tongue. This wasn’t a love hotel—you didn’t want to be screaming when it was only 7 pm in the evening.

His fingers repeatedly pressed against your prostate. Rubbing smooth circles around it as you cried and whimpered. Your cock felt heavy. You felt as if you could orgasm now. But then he suddenly stopped.

“Ngh…?” You whimpered, eyes opening as you tried to look back at Ye-Jun.

“What? Don’t think you can bat your eyelashes and I’ll do what you say.” Ye-Jun laughed, rudely pushing your head back onto the bed. “Don’t look back at me again unless you don’t want to cum at all tonight.”

It was silent for a second. Your body began to twitch with anxiety as you could feel your cock losing its erection. What was he trying to do?

A complaint was on the tip of your tongue when a brutal four minutes had passed but you didn’t get to say anything. His two fingers thrusted back inside of your puckered hole as you gasped in shock. They immediately zeroed in on your prostate—not holding back a continuous attack.

He rubbed the edge of your prostate before pressing down fully on it. You whined, your hips jerking upwards as he didn’t make any movement. Your cock was alive once again, the tip sticky and wet with pre-cum.

You were so close. Almost there.

But he didn’t move again. He kept his middle and ring finger resting right on your prostate. Your toes curled as you bucked your hips backwards to try and get him to move. That earned a harsh smack right on your ass.

“I didn’t say you could move.”

You whimpered, trying to will your body to stay still. It felt like hours when it was only two minutes before he began to tease your prostate. A thankful groan left your throat as you tried to savor the feeling.

Your cock rubbed against the bedsheets as it coated them with your pre-cum. A babble of nonsense left your lips as you gripped at the sheets—reaching your orgasm.

Then it stopped just as you reached your peak.

A whiny almost pathetic whimper left your throat as you felt tears water in your eyes. You couldn’t take this anymore. Your body began to shake slightly as you tried to calm down even as the tears began to fall.

“Hurts?” Ye-Jun suddenly whispered against your ear. You flinched, feeling his body heat against you. Only a whimper left you.

“Good.” He simply said, pulling away.

Your eyes widen as you felt his hand reach underneath your stomach, grasping your aching cock. You almost cried tears of joy as he began to jerk you off, his fingers occasionally rubbing your prostate in tandem. Your eyes practically rolled to the back of your head as you couldn’t help back your high pitched moans.

“Almost there, Jagiya. I’m sure Yang Junho never made you feel like this…” he suddenly tightened his grip on the tip of your cock, stopping your orgasm. “Just like I’m sure he isn’t as cruel as me.”

“Noooo…” You cried out, reaching up to crawl away from Ye-Jun. He only laughed and pulled his hand away, grabbing your hips and pulling you back down to the edge of the bed.

“Where are you going? I thought you wanted to cum.”

“I…ngh…..! ‘Ate ‘u…!” You managed to mutter, your eyes feeling heavy.

“Mhm. I hate you too, Jagiya.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss on your shoulder. “If only you weren’t promoting soon. You deserve my mark all over your body. Maybe then you’ll realize you’re mine.”

He pulled away from your body, leaving you to cry at the loss. Ye-Jun hummed as he grabbed your waist and flipped you into your back, forcing your head to lay off the edge of the bed. You were face to face with growing bulge. His hand pulled down his zipper, tugging down his boxers, as his cock slipped free.

It was inches from your face, the tip touching your nose. Ye-Jun reached over and wiped at your face. Your face was stained with tears. A smile pulled on his lips as he uncharacteristically gently stroked your cheek before grabbing his cock and pressing it against your lips.

You obeyed with ease, your lips parting as he slowly thrusted his cock into your mouth. He was slow—seemingly nice enough to not just trigger your gag reflex immediately. His hand traced your cheek before trailing down to your throat, rubbing the slight bulge there.

Your cock twitched as your legs clamped together. You wanted to cum so bad but didn’t make any attempt to grab your own cock despite it leaking dejectedly on your stomach.

“You’re pretty with your mouth shut, Jagiya. If you didn’t have a pretty voice when singing, I would make sure you could never talk again.”

A pathetic whimper left your throat as you tried to ignore the thought.

His hand gently massaged your throat before he pulled his hips back. You braced yourself, closing your eyes at the feeling of him against your tongue. His tip teased the tip of your tongue before he slammed his hips forward.

The sound of his grunts and your choked gasps filled the room as he fucked your mouth. He wasn’t gentle or slow in the slightest, making sure he could go as deep as possibly without triggering your gag reflex. Your toes curled as your body moved from his heavy thrusts.

Your cock was leaking pre-cum all over your tummy as you itched over to quickly jerk yourself off. You needed an orgasm like twenty minutes ago.

“That’s it. Jerk yourself off.” He said, tightening his grip on your throat. You didn’t need to be told twice as you quickly grabbed your cock and began jerking off to the rhythm of his thrusts. Your hips jerked up as your body was taking over by the pleasure.

Ye-Jun smirked as he quickened his pace, widening his stance as he slammed his cock deep inside your throat. You could feel yourself choking just a bit—almost forgetting to breathe.

“Nose. Use your nose.” Ye-Jun suddenly grunted out, noticing your hands frantically gripping at the bed. You felt like an idiot for forgetting to do that but you tried to give yourself a pass at being too taken with the pleasure.

You moved your hand back to your cock and quickly jerked yourself off, ready to finally meet your first orgasm. Ye-Jun seemed close as well judging by his moans. It felt like your body was spasming as your cock finally squirted cum onto your stomach, shooting up to your chest.

Ye-Jun pulled his cock out as you let out a strangled and hoarse scream. Your hips jerked upwards as you continued jerking yourself off during your orgasm. Wet tears streamed down your face as you took a deep breath, trying to calm down as your body shook from the intense sensation.

Your neck hurt so you tried to move to rest properly on the bed but didn’t get to move far when Ye-Jun gripped your throat. A shocked gasp left your throat as you looked up at him to see him smirking at you.

“Hey, don’t be so selfish.” He used his free hand to jerk himself as he pointed his cock right at your face. You could only squirm in his grip, hands reaching up to try and pull his hand off your throat. But it was useless, he was larger than you.

White cum squirted from Ye-Jun’s cock, landing right on your face. You quickly shut your eyes as it landed on your lips, cheeks, and nose. Luckily nowhere near your eyes. Ye-Jun rubbed at your throat before pulling away.

His touch was soft. You almost called back for him. But you couldn’t speak. This feeling felt different. Like you could just sleep peacefully and wake up refreshed the next day.

Was this… the sub space Dohyun mentioned? Did Ye-Jun really make you feel this safe despite everything?

The sound of a zipper pulling up caught your hears as you finally opened your eyes. He was far away. Too far. You had to hold back the childish whimper that threatened to leave you.

“…’her you ‘ing..?” You managed to hoarsely mutter.

Ye-Jun tilted his hand at you as he grinned. “You look good with cum on your face, (Name). It’s my favorite sight.” He pulled out his phone and took a picture. You didn’t even have the mental strength to yell at him for that.

He walked away and you strained to watch him as he slipped on his sneakers. He was leaving? Leaving you like this? You grunted, using your strength to sit up properly on the bed as you stared at him in shock.

“You’re not..”

“Leaving? Yeah, I’m leaving.” Ye-Jun said, grabbing his jacket and baseball cap off the hook.

He looked back over at you, his face unreadable.“I hate you, remember? Just like you hate me. Isn’t that our relationship? We’re fuck buddies now.”

With that, he left. You stared at the door in shock as you tried to calm down. What the fuck? Fuck buddies? Your heart felt odd. You felt as if you were having trouble breathing.

What was wrong with you?

You pushed yourself off the bed, kneeling down to grab your jeans as you pulled out your phone. Tears began to fall onto the screen as you shakily pressed the first contact you came across in your messages.

“Wonnie Hyung…?” You hiccuped. “I need you.”

❝ 반대로 가고 있는 것 같아요 ❞

“I’m going to murder him.”

You looked over at Junho as he paced around Won-Shik’s bedroom. Won-Shik was beside you on the bed with an uncharacteristically blank stare. When you had called him he had practically ran to where you were.

The look on his face when you opened the door was something you didn’t want to see again.

“So he was angry at you and then did all that?” Won-Shik suddenly spoke, the first time in the hour he brought you home. You mutely nodded, burrowing yourself into the bedsheets. It was embarrassing to tell your band mate this but you didn’t exactly have anyone else.

No way in hell were you going to Roha. Or worse, your parents. You haven’t exactly spoken to them in five years.

Junho groaned, rubbing at his head. “Why is he like this? Does he even like you? He says he was lonely when you left but now that he has you again he’s acting like a fucking fool?”

“I’m a fool for going back to him.” You whispered, sighing to yourself. Junho frowned as he finally sat down on the bed, rubbing your head.

“Don’t beat yourself, (Name)-Ah. You just.. You must really like him. I’m not sure why, but he must’ve been a good person before this all happened.”

“He was. But I’m starting to think I love him because he’s the first boyfriend I’ve ever had.”

“Could be that. But even when you were away from him—did you still think about him?”

“Of course. I always thought about him. I’m so confused with myself.”

Junho gave you a comforting smile as he moved to lay down with you on the bed. You couldn’t help but laugh as he wrapped the blanket around you like a cocoon and hug you to his chest.

Won-Shik hummed, catching your attention. He looked over at you and gave you a tight smile. “I’ve thought about what to do and unfortunately they all come up with me getting a murder charge.”

“I can still be your alibi.” Junho said seriously.

“Tempting.”

“Please don’t.” You whined, pouting. “I think I’ll get more depressed if he’s gone for good and you’ll be locked up in jail.”

“You’re too nice, (Name)-Ah.” Won-Shik sighed, shaking his head. He pulled out his phone and got up. “I need to tell Dohyun Hyung. I’ll be back.” He left the room, leaving you and Junho alone.

Junho nuzzled your hair before sighing softly. “Why’d you tell him that we slept together, (Name)-Ah? That was dangerous.”

“He would never hurt me physically.”

“But he has no problem hurting you mentally.”

You only closed your eyes, burying your face into the blanket cocoon. You were too mentally tired to think about this right now. Right now, you wanted to the warmth of Junho and your blanket cocoon.

It seemed you fell asleep because you woke up to Young-Jae on the bed with you. He was wrapped around you like an octopus, leg and arm over your body. Soft snores left his throat as you could see drool on his chin. You almost laughed at the sight.

Another body pressed against you as you looked to your left to see Dohyun right beside you, fast asleep. He looked like an angel compared to Young-Jae’s chaotic form. Dohyun’s arms were cross against his chest as his hair somehow stayed perfectly neat. How could one sleep like that?

A grunt left Young-Jae as he mumbled something before he opened his eye. His eye narrowed in on you as if he was trying to see if you were awake.

“….?egah?”

“What?” You laughed, watching as he sat up, pulling away from you. Young-Jae yawned, stretching his arms out before turning to look down at you.

“How’d you sleep?” He asked.

“Good. This cocoon is comforting.”

Young-Jae nodded as he rubbed his bed head. He glanced around before humming. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“About Kim Ye-Jun?”

“No. The sub space.”

“Sub space? Did I really get into it?”

“I’m guessing. With how Won-Shik described your behavior when he came to get you. Have you ever experienced it before?”

“No… I don’t think Kim Ye-Jun knows anything about that type of stuff. Our sex back then was pretty vanilla. It’s only the two times we’ve fucked that he’s been more mean and dominant during sex.”

“So you guys didn’t discuss any boundaries or anything like that?”

“No. Why would we?”

Young-Jae sighed. “Of course. Well he’s still a dick either way even if you were both naive to what you were doing. Did he really say he hated you?”

You hummed, looking down.

“He’s insane. He acts so lovey dovey on Instagram but he seems unhinged in person.”

“It’s like…” You frown, pursing your lips together. “He has trouble speaking his feelings when we’re face to face. But on text, he acts like how he used to act before we broke up.”

“Do you think… he does it on purpose? Or maybe he just doesn’t realize?”

“I don’t know. I want him to realize how he’s affecting me. First I think he’s acting loving towards me and then he does shit like this.”

“I told you,” Young-Jae smirked. “You’re going to have to punch him. You gotta let him know he isn’t the boss of this relationship if you really won’t leave him. Stop letting him lead the conversations.”

You thought back to what Roha said. How he had to punch some sense into Ye-Jun to tell him how he was being suffocating. Maybe… Maybe you did need to stop acting nice.

Kim Ye-Jun would only listen with violence. Because it seemed he never grew up during his high school years.

And if that didn’t work…

You’d have to gain the strength to completely cut Kim Ye-Jun out of your life forever.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

↳ SONG NOEUL

↳ ywure intarcating wiz hem agaen i tuld ywu to cemo buck to me

↳ thus wel be ywoure fult fagot

↳ cho (name) bund wel be reined becaze of ywo

↳ kell ywor silf for twryinf to abendon me

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

It had been over a week since the whole incident. Ye-Jun had made no attempt to contact you. You kept drafting so many messages on what to send him. Wondering if it’d be better to meet him in person.

You felt like you’d pop a blood vessel if you continued any longer.

So, Won-Shik and Young-Jae took you out to dinner. It was a restaurant you’ve never tried so you were excited the entire time. Won-Shik and Young-Jae knew how to get your mind off things with ease.

You felt a pep in your step as you walked behind Young-Jae with Won-Shik beside you. They wanted to take a scenic walk through the park before going home. Won-Shik was showing you something on your phone when Young-Jae suddenly stopped.

“Huh? Something wrong?” You asked, walking up to see what made him pause.

It was Roha, Ye-Jun and another band member of theirs. You couldn’t tell who it was until they walked over. Ah, it was Shion. Shion’s eyes narrowed on you as if it was the first time he was ever seeing you. Roha grinned and waved.

Ye-Jun, for the first time in forever, avoided eye contact with you.

You almost thought that it couldn’t have been Ye-Jun at all.

“Evening. I’m Park Shion. I don’t think we properly met.” Shion said, holding his hand out. Young-Jae glared at his hand while Won-Shik stepped over and returned his handshake. With Won-Shik being the oldest, he had a duty to protect his maknaes.

“Shin Won-Shik. Introduce yourself.” He told you and Young-Jae.

“… Lee Young-Jae.”

“Cho (Name).”

“Im Roha.”

It was silent before Shion grabbed Ye-Jun by the back of his neck, essentially scuffing him like a cat. Ye-Jun grunted before sending a deadly glare at Shion.

“…Kim Ye-Jun.”

“I know.” Won-Shik answered, eyeing Ye-Jun up and down. Ye-Jun was 6 foot but was nothing compared to Won-Shik’s 6’3. You had some weirdly tall band mates. It was practically a joke from your company that half of the band should’ve been volleyball players.

An awkward silence filled the space as the six of you stared at each other. Only Roha seemed amused by everything, a light smirk on his lips as he looked over at you. He chuckled and motioned at Ye-Jun, making a bawling motion with his hands.

Bawling? Kim Ye-Jun bawling? It’d be a frigid day in hell if that was true.

But Roha wouldn’t have any reason to lie to you.

Roha stopped for a moment before he began to mouth something to you.

Geu… reul… ju…meok..eu..ro?

그를 주먹으로?

Geureul jumeokeuro?

It took a moment before it could register in your mind. Punch him. Roha was telling you to punch him. A grin spread on your lips as you took in Roha’s advice.

Won-Shik tilted his head as he stared straight at Ye-Jun. “Why are you bothering my maknae? Are you so lonely that you go after someone you willfully mistreated? Has your personality pushed away everyone that you have to prey on someone who has an unconditional love for you that it’s the cause of their own downfall?”

You watched as he stepped forward, leaning his head down so he could look Ye-Jun straight in the eye. Ye-Jun’s lips straightened into a thin line as he stared right back him, eyes narrowing as if he was daring Won-Shik to continue.

That didn’t seem to be the right answer as Won-Shik grabbed Ye-Jun’s jacket and pulled him close. Roha backed away, an amused smirk on his lips while Shion sighed. He didn’t make any effort to help Ye-Jun though—he was shorter than the both of them at 5’9. No way in hell would he risk himself for Ye-Jun’s own problem.

“You talk all that shit to (Name) and Junho but you can’t do it to me? Do I scare you, Kim Ye-Jun?” Won-Shik was certainly scaring you. Being tall with a muscular body was just intimidating in general. Pair it with his features—he just looked naturally scary.

It was a thing in the fandom that many of the fans found it hot how scary he could be while cuddly the next.

And right now, you were glad none of the fans ever saw how scary Won-Shik could truly be.

“Stop playing with (Name). Because if you truly wanted him like you say, you wouldn’t leave him a sobbing mess for us to clean up after you ruined him for your own pleasure.” Won-Shik released his grip on Ye-Jun, shaking his head as he walked away from him.

Young-Jae frowned. “I was hoping you’d punch him.”

Roha laughed. “Yeah me too!”

“Roha!” Shion glared at Roha who only laughed, shrugging his shoulders. Ye-Jun rubbed at the collar of his jacket as he straightened it back. He still wouldn’t look at you. Somehow that made you angrier than anything he’s done before.

The whole speech you had wanted to give him was long out of your mind at this point. You would probably speak to him another time.

Your feet moved before you could even think. The others watched you, Won-Shik instinctively reaching out to stop you. Ye-Jun finally looked over at you when he noticed you from his peripheral vision. He opened his mouth to speak but you stopped him.

“(Name)—”

A shocked yell left Shion as everyone watched in shock as you slam your fist square inbetween Ye-Jun’s eyes. Ye-Jun’s balance stumbled as he grunted at the force, about to fall to the ground until Roha grabbed his arms. Roha began laughing, holding Ye-Jun from off the floor.

“I didn’t think you’d actually punch him!” Young-Jae yelled, unsure if he should feel proud or shocked.

You whined, shaking your right hand as you brought it up to your face to see your knuckles were bleeding. Fuck, did punching people always hurt like this?

“You’re so funny, Cho (Name)! I meant it metaphorically but he deserved to be punched!” Roha laughed.

“Wait, you never punched..? But you said you socked him in the face?” You cried, wondered how the fuck you were wrong in your interpretation of events.

“Poor wording. I did shove him against a table and he ended up hurting his face from the fall. But this is the best day of my life!”

Shion looked mostly shocked. He glanced down at Ye-Jun. “Shit, he’s bleeding. How am I going to explain this to Riwoo Hyung?!”

Roha shrugged. “Tell him Ye-Jun fucked around and found out. Let’s go, I’m tired of holding him up.”

Won-Shik was just staring at you, mouth agape before a wide grin spread on his lips. He grabbed you by the waist and hoisted you up, spinning around despite your yelps for him to put you down.

“Cho (Name)!! Who knew you had it in you? You’re not just a cute maknae, you’re a strong maknae! You might’ve broke his nose!”

Young-Jae walked over to you two and smirked. “Let’s hope he doesn’t hate you enough to press charges.”

You and Won-Shik stopped celebrating as realization began to settle in. Ah fuck. You looked over to see Roha and Shion dragging Ye-Jun away. Roha looked back and waved goodbye, giving you a thumbs up.

It was so odd that Ye-Jun’s childhood friend would enjoy seeing his friend get beat. Shion didn’t even seem too upset. You could see them both struggle a bit, Roha and Shion were slimmer compared to Ye-Jun’s stocker build as they dragged him away.

Won-Shik finally placed you on the ground as he lovingly patted your head. “Let’s not tell Dohyun Hyung. He’d have a heart attack.”

Young-Jae hummed. “Yeah, Jagi might pass out and I won���t get to fuck him tonight.”

You and Won-Shik stared at Young-Jae with an unimpressed expression. “Gross.” You said in unison.

“What?”

The rest of the walk back to the apartment complex was fun. Won-Shik kept complimenting you about the punch while saying you should’ve went for a different form. It was the reason why you ended up hurting your hand just as bad.

Your right hand was in total pain. Your knuckles bloody. It hurt to flex your hand so you were just keeping it as still as possible until Yuki could dress your wound once you got home. Though it would be a pain to explain what happened to Yuki.

Hopefully he’d be proud of you.

Just as you reached the door to the complex, the sight of someone caused you to froze.

Standing near the building dressed in a white t-shirt and a puffy black jacket with black sweatpants. You almost thought you were going crazy until the person took off their cap and pulled down their mask.

Song Noeul.

He looked prettier in person. His lips pulled into a wide smile. “(Name) Hyung?” His voice like a melody. You always wondered why he quit singing when his voice was so soft and sweet.

“SONG NOEUL?! I love your dramas!!!” Won-Shik yelled, practically vibrating in excitement. Noeul looked shocked at first before smiling at Won-Shik. He bowed his head.

“Thank you, Shin Won-Shik.”

“YOU KNOW MY NAME?!? HAHAH!!! Call me Won-Shik Hyung, please!!!!”

“Calm the fuck down, Hyung.” Young-Jae muttered. “He’s here for (Name), not for you to fanboy all over him.”

Won-Shik quickly schooled his expression, nodding. “Yes, of course. Right. Haha. We’ll leave you two alone.” He didn’t make an effort to move so Young-Jae grabbed his arm and began to pull him away.

“Wait, wait!!! CAN I HAVE YOUR AUTOGRAPH NEXT TIME YOU VISIT!!! PLEASE VISIT AGAIN!!! (Name)!!! This your chance!!!” Won-Shik screamed even as Young-Jae pulled him inside the complex.

You blushed in embarrassment, biting your lip as Noeul only laughed. He turned his attention over to you.

“Your Instagram posts are cute.” Noeul said. “I didn’t know if I was imagining it the first time but I’m glad I wasn’t. I missed talking to you.”

“Why.. Why did you lose contact with me?” You whispered.

Noeul frowned. “I’m sorry, Hyung. I didn’t want to. But I’ve been… I’ve been stalked for a while and my manager told me to change my number. But she didn’t allow me to get most of my contacts back that weren’t her and my parents. She said I couldn’t trust anyone since it was the beginning of my career. It’s always fragile in the beginning.”

“Are you still being stalked?”

“Not that I know of. I’m still advised to be careful.” He pulled out his phone and smiled. “But I wanted to get your number anyway. I wanted my hyung back.”

You stared at his phone before reaching over to grab it, putting in your number. A gummy smile pulled on his lips as he giggled, stepping closer to you.

“I’m taller than you now. You didn’t grow at all.”

You pouted. “Rude. Is that any way to talk to your hyung?”

“Mhm, maybe?”

Noeul and you broke into a fit of giggles. It was nice to see him again. Alive and well. You subconsciously flexed your right hand and groaned. Noeul frowned, leaning in closer as he caught sight of your hand.

“Hyung…! What happened? Are you okay?” He gently grasped your hand, bringing it close as he took in the damage. His finger almost threatened to accidentally rub against the wound but he stopped himself just in time.

“Ah.. I punched someone.”

“Punch..? Who?!”

“Hah, Kim Ye-Jun.”

“Kim… Kim Ye-Jun?! Black Rose’s Kim Ye-Jun?! What did he do to deserve that?”

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you another time.”

Noeul frowned but nodded his hand. “Okay. It’s getting late, I should go back before my manager notices I’m gone.”

“You didn’t tell her that you left? Song Noeul!”

“It’s okay. I’m only a twenty minute walk away from here.”

You glared at him, almost wanting to chastise him but decided against it. It almost felt like you never stopped talking to him. Noeul blinked, staring at you for a second before his eyes flickered down to your lips.

“You hurt your lip too..?”

His finger gently touched the scab on your bottom lip. It was from Ye-Jun. He really had bite your lip open. You watched Noeul as he frowned slightly. His gaze softened.

“You’re still so accident prone, Hyung.”

You stopped yourself from saying it was from the same man. Instead, you leaned closer into Noeul’s space. His body stiffen for a second and you almost stepped away until he took a stepped forward.

“I should get going.” He whispered.

“Mhm. Yeah, I need to get my wound dressed.”

It felt like time stopped as you pressed your body against his. Your eyes fluttered close as you leaned on your toes. You didn’t feel anything for a moment and almost believed you were reading too far into things when soft lips pressed against yours.

The kiss was slow. Almost like you both were scared that you were dreaming. Like a peck you’d give your first ever boyfriend. You didn’t want to deepen it. The pure feeling you got from Noeul was everything you wanted. No, needed.

You pulled away from the kiss and slowly opened your eyes. Noeul smiled as he rubbed at your cheek. You hadn’t even noticed that you were crying. After months of Kim Ye-Jun, a love you wished could be like it was before… Song Noeul felt safe.

But you didn’t want to use him. You couldn’t use him for your own selfish benefit. So you reluctantly pulled away. Noeul didn’t stop you, allowing you to slip from his hold.

“Sorry… I just…”

“It’s okay, Hyung.” Noeul smiled. “Y’know, it reminded me of our first ever kiss. I kissed you that day and you pulled away, apologizing right after.”

“Oh, yeah…”

“So I know that we’ll be okay. I’m don’t know what I feel for you, Hyung. I’m not sure if it’s nostalgia but I want you. I’ve liked you since that winter we met. I think I still like you. I haven’t been able to connect with anyone after you.”

“I… I feel the same. But I need to explain to you something before we can continue, okay? Just not tonight. I’m too tired.” You confessed, biting your lip.

Noeul hummed, seemingly understanding. “Okay. I’ll let you go up, Hyung. Talk to you soon.” He slipped on his cap and pulled up his mask, waving goodbye as he walked away. You watched him walk for a moment before going inside when you couldn’t see him anymore.

You were in the elevator when you got a text. You pulled out your phone and checked the message.

It was from Noeul.

It was just a picture—an older one. He looked shy in the picture, mostly looking at you who was holding the phone to do a selfie. Your grin was wide as you held up a peace sign. Noeul was following you as he held a makeshift peace sign that didn’t fully extend. It almost looked like he was doing air quotes.

A smile spread across your lips.

It felt nice to finally have someone calming in your life resurface.

Ice to cool you down from the fire that was Kim Ye-Jun.

But of course, you shouldn’t have gotten so comfortable.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

↴

Uhm, dude. I don’t know if you know this, but I’m not Song Noeul? You got the wrong number

↴

Also, you’re fucking insane and can’t spell for shit

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

→ no way ㅋㅋㅋㅋ he’s gay??

→ shameless to be making out in public

→ wtf? I’ve been simping over a gay man??

→ gross ㅋㅋㅋ

→ ugh, waste of a man!!

→ I’m not sure why you girls are whining, not like you would’ve had a chance with him anyway ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

→ isn’t he in a recent drama with a kid???

→ poor kid ㅠㅠ we gotta get him out before he gets the kid

→ there’s literal rapists walking free in the film industry, but sure, homotron 3000 is the problem

→ uhm, why is no one weirded out that some of these pictures are taken in the privacy of Song Noeul’s home????!

→ is it just me or does it look like he has bruises on his body for a few of these pics?? Dispatch wtf?

→ he literally looks underaged in some of these pictures?? Why am I seeing a minors nudes?

→ it doesn’t matter that it’s pixilated, why are you showing this?! Guys we gotta report the post

→ Moon Taeil literally exists and yall seem more angry at a gay man??

→ I don’t care that he likes sucking dick, at least he can act

→ yall are so fucking funny. If Song Noeul dies because of this don’t pretend you care about celebrities mental health for a week before forgetting all about him

→ fucking gross, he probably makes Black Rose uncomfortable ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

→ he’s dating Love Countdown’s Cho (Name)???

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

@Dohyungotafatty (↑639 ↓248)

↳ damn, I was wrong. Cho (Name) isn’t dating Kim Ye-Jun ㅎㅎ

@junhoswhore (↑1264 ↓387)

↳ uh, isn’t this revenge porn?

@yukiiwukki (↑2763 ↓19)

↳ the person who sold the info to dispatch seem insane ㅋㅋㅋ why do we have to know about an actor’s love life?

@_loveandfear (↑635 ↓127)

↳ he’s literally a minor in some of the pictures, dispatch fucking delete these

@jaesflatass (↑3872 ↓498)

↳ I forgot homophobia existed ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

@lovewonshiik (↑835 ↓376)

↳ the cute guys are always gay… I hope Won-Shik is straight ㅠㅠ

@Dohyungotafatty (↑1972 ↓287)

↳ it’s not like you had a chance ㅋㅋ

@freakfundashi (↑532 ↓9)

↳ It doesn’t feel right to make a sex joke right now ㅠㅠ I hope Song Noeul is okay

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

Roha Hyung

↳ don’t check online. Don’t check your comments, please don’t. Take care of yourself.

Wonnie Hyung

↳ stay home, (Name). I’m coming with Manager Nayoung

Dohyunie Hyung

↳ I’m sorry this is happening to you, baby. Don’t leave your room. Jae and I are coming over, we’re just stuck in traffic

Jae Hyung

↳ it was him right?! I’m going to fucking kill him

↳ this better not have been Kim Ye-Jun I swear to god

Jun Jun Hyung

↳ (Name)… open the door please. I know you hear me. Please, I need to make sure you’re okay

Ki Ki Hyung

↳ don’t test me, (Name). I will unscrew the bolts of your door if you don’t open it now

Manager Choi Nayoung

↳ don’t you dare think we’re angry at you, Cho (Name). I’m sorry you were outed like this. I’m coming now to check on you. We’ll figure out how to deal with this and find out who sold the information to dispatch.

Kim “Son of a bitch” Ye-Jun

↳ Cho (Name). Stop looking at the comments. I know you are. It might hurt now but know those people aren’t even your fans.

↳ not even that, why do you care about the feelings of someone you’d never meet? Of someone who would be a coward to say it to you in person?

↳ it’s not my place but Noeul isn’t answering his phone… please check on him. I’m worried

My sunset

↳ Hyung

↳ it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have came to see you. I ruined you. Please don’t hate me. Please please. I’ll fix it. I’ll handle everything.

↳ I just need to confess. There’s no point in denying it. I’m just sorry you will have to learn about this in a public setting

↳ I’ll just tell you now. It was my ex boyfriend. But please… please don’t look at any more of the pictures. I don’t.. I don’t want you to see me like that.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

Song Noeul’s shocking past; revealed by supposed ex lover!

Plus evidence of Love Countdown’s Cho (Name) and Song Noeul’s budding romance since 20XX!

Your eyes grazed over the post multiple times.

You just couldn’t be happy for a second could you? Now you dragged Noeul down with you when he was dealing with something arguably worse.

You could hear Junho and Yuki calling you from outside your door. You almost got up to open the door before Yuki kept his promise when your phone began ringing.

It was your mother.

Hehe, suddenly there’s a whole story line? This wasn’t supposed to be 16k words. If you noticed, Ye-Jun isn’t the only love interest anymore, get ready to learn more about Song Noeul in chapter 3 :) I’m finally giving threesomes a chance. Get used to porn with plot from me lol

Anyway thank @teyvat-writer for the idea for reader to punch Ye-Jun.

Tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @chill-guy-but-cooler @mello-life25 @love-kha1 @star-3214 @terapung @flurrina @smellwell @iwishtobeacrow @rhetorical-conscience @mooncarvers-world @tehyunnie @remdayz @ofclyde @tomoeroi @cherry-blossoms-187 @kiiyoooo @glittervame

Translations:

❝ 날 그대로 받아들여, 너의 두려운 ❞ — accept me as I am, your fear

너무 예뻐서, 자기. — it’s pretty, Jagi

❝ 차가운 네 눈이 나를 삼켜 ❞ — your cold eyes swallow me

❝ 불안하게 만드는 거야 왜? ❞ — why are you making me anxious?

❝ 반대로 가고 있는 것 같아요 ❞ — it seems like I’m moving backwards

Songs used: Monster by EXO, beyOnd by OnlyOneOf’s Nine, and Not Mine by Day6

[torasplanet]

❝𝘿𝘼𝘿’𝙎 𝙂𝙁.ᐟ❞

D. WAYNE + BRUCE’S GF!F. READER

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ; damian doesn’t particularly like his dad’s girlfriend but soon, she ends up being his favorite family member.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨; fluff, platonic obvi, age gap between reader and bruce (mid 20s and early 40s), rude damian lmao and skin tone not mentioned

It wasn’t necessarily a secret that Damian did not like you. You were Bruce’s girlfriend and that wasn’t something that would’ve made him not like you but instead it was the age gap that made him not like you. I mean you were in your twenties and his father was in his early forties, you can’t expect him to not see anything wrong with that. It didn’t really surprise you per se because although the others never hated you for it, they did tell Bruce it was weird for him to date you.

They would always make sure to tell you that they meant no offense to you and that you were a sweetheart but still said it was weird. So Damian not liking you for that reason was not surprising, especially considering the number of people that told you how uhm… let's say ‘stuck-up’ he was before you went to meet him for the first time. Of course, you were still bummed out but it wasn’t a surprise. You tried everything to get Damian to like you but nothing really made him budge.

He’d still make the same snarky remarks, rude comments and sometimes it’d make you a little upset but not all the time. “Dude chill.” “You don’t have to be rude damian…” “Don’t talk to her like that.” They’d all tell him even though you brushed it off and would tell them you didn’t mind. For someone who was just like Damian at first, Jason was very unhappy whenever damian would make his comments.

But maybe it was just because the two of you have never had a time to actually talk before, you thought. And you would prove to be right one late night at the manor.

Damian walked down the long stairs only in his pajamas with a yawn escaping his throat. He had been awoken to a rumbling stomach just begging for a midnight snack so he was going to fulfill that need but he did not expect to see you in the kitchen when he got there.

You sat at the long table very obviously crying your eyes out. Damian didn’t say anything and only stood at the other end of the table staring at you while you sniffled. He wondered why you seemed so upset, Bruce was home from patrol. He hadn’t said anything rude to you all day, actually, he’d barely seen you today. Maybe that was just because he had school but still.

Damian had no idea what was going on. He did not like being in the dark.

With the floorboard uncharacteristically creaking under his footstep, his presence was known to you. Your head snapped up immediately and he was able to see your red eyes more clearly. “Oh, hi…Is everything okay?” You asked, trying to go back to your cheerful mood, but he saw through your facade.

“Everything is alright. I suppose I should be asking you that question.” The younger wayne said walking closer to you and undeniably, it made you quite nervous. “I’m okay, just…uhm.” You muttered not able to come up with a lie quick enough which made Damian quite suspicious of you.

He eyed you up and down before making eye contact once again “Excuse me for asking this but, are you pregnant?” Damian asked out of pure curiosity. In his mind this was the only logical answer.

I mean you were crying in the kitchen at one in the morning and got extremely nervous when your boyfriend's son walked in. Not exactly pointing to pregnancy but the hints are there. “No!” You whisper-shouted out of embarrassment.

“Then why are you upset?” Damian asked now standing by your side and you knew you couldn’t lie to him. He was too smart for that. “I-I just had a hard day, it’s nothing.” Your response only earned blinks from the boy. “You stay home all day. What possible could be hard about that?”” He questioned and it made you feel a bit worse but you didn’t show it. Tim told you not to show weakness to the “demon child” and he was probably right about that.

You glanced side to side awkwardly as you tried to find your words. “Erm…Damian that’s not exactly true but okay. It was mainly about the other people I was around instead of the day itself.” You told him and Damian plopped down on the chair to your left now intrigued with this conversation. Or maybe he was listening to tire himself out you know…because of boredom.

“I was just out buying food for Jason because he’s sick and…he doesn’t exactly have edible things in his fridge.” Damian nodded at your sentence as he observed your expressions whilst you talked. “Graysons place has a better selection.” The boy muttered under his breath before urging you to continue your talking.

“And there were these women in the store talking about me like I wasn’t even in there…saying awful things about me not really loving bruce.” You admitted. It was weird to be confining your feelings in a twelve year old but Damian was hardly a child, he was probably smarter than you. So it wasn’t all that horrible.

You made eye contact with him for the first time in a while and Damian’s cold expression softened at how tears were brimming at your lash line all over again. You were really beat up about this. “I know I shouldn’t because people say it all the time but it’s not like that. If I was with Bruce for the money, I would’ve quit my job a long time ago. It doesn’t even pay that much anyway.” Damian didn’t even know you had a job.

He was rarely home with school and patrol but when he was, you were always there too so he just assumed you stayed at home all day. Damian didn’t really know much about you up until now. “But I really do love Bruce.” He hummed in response not knowing how else to reply.

You became aware of the situation and grew stiff and awkward. “Uhm sorry…I’m keeping you up.” Your words were mumbles as you stood from your chair prepared to leave the room and let Damian be alone. You were probably a bother to him.

Then you were stopped by his voice “Not yet.” You turned around and he was now standing by the fridge and pointed up at the cabinets that contained the breakfast items. “I need you to get cereal for me.” Damian requested and you smiled at him before obliging and grabbing his favorite cereal and handing it to him.

“Goodnight Damian.” Damian hummed in response as he watched you start to walk away “…Have a good night [Y/n].” He told you, making you grin. It wasn’t much but it meant a lot to you.

Little did you know, that was the start of it all. After that night, Damian stuck to you like a koala but not as if he was hugging you but everywhere you went, he was right next to you. Everyone (including you and Alfred) thought it was super weird. It was literally overnight that Damian started to take a liking to you.

You may have thought it was weird but you enjoyed it. It made you feel like you were truly part of the family. Damian only took a liking to you because he saw the real you, not the cheerful one that put on an act for cameras and paparazzi. You had feelings and he realized that he was hurting them for no reason.

I mean you weren’t like the others. You didn’t treat him like a child, you treated him just how he wanted to be. Not babied and not having his intelligence insulted because of his age, you treated him with the respect he deserved and saw his points of arguments like not needing school. He liked that and now that he had realized he was hurting you by saying the same things those women said, he felt bad. So he accepted you, a little too accepting for everyone else’s comfort.

You thought it was weird but you enjoyed it. It truly made you feel like part of the family because now everyone liked you. Damian seemed to like you a bit more than the others though mainly your presence.

“Oh hey, we’re about to watch a movie. Come sit.” Dick said, inviting Damian over as he reached the living room. A frown formed on his lips at the spot next to Bruce that was empty. You weren’t here.

His gaze traveled to his father “Where is [Y/n]?” Damian asked, tilting his head slightly. “In the room. She wanted to catch up on her reading.” Bruce said and without a word, Damian started to make his way back up the stairs and toward you and Bruce’s shared bedroom.

Opening the door, there you were sitting on the bed reading but your focus turned to him when you heard him approach the bed “It’s movie night.” Damian spoke before you even asked what he wanted “Oh I wanted to finish reading this book.” You replied carelessly but Damian did not like that answer.

“But I want you there…you protect me from Grayson’s popcorn when he gets excited.” Damian said, growing a bit flustered mid-sentence after noticing that he had just aired his feelings out. You looked at him as you sighed “I can still read my book, right?” You questioned and Damian nodded as he reached out to grab your wrist.

You allowed him after putting a bookmark in your book. Damian dragged you down stairs, book in hand and everything while you tried not to trip and fall. “You actually went and got her?” Jason asked as you and Damian sat side-by-side next to Bruce while Tim sat at your feet on the floor.

Jason wasn’t here often, honestly he only came here for Alfred and your cooking and to spend time with you. You were probably the only one he could actually stand for longer than five minutes. “You didn’t have to bother her.” Stephanie said from one of the armchairs but you waved your hands in defense of the boy who did not care whatsoever.

“I don’t mind.” “So mind your business Todd.” Jason scowled at Damian’s rude comment after your kind one that wasn’t even directed toward him but stayed quiet and just continued to watch the movie. You continued to read through your book with Damian sometimes leaning over to catch a glimpse at what you were reading.

Movies that Dick picked out didn’t particularly interest him that much. He could usually fish out the plot twists from miles away and it was the same with books but more often than not, books were more interesting.

Halfway through the movie, Damian got intrigued in a certain page he had read through “What book is this?” He asked, blinking up at you with his large green eyes and you thought they were so adorable but you didn’t say anything. “Gone girl, I think you’d like it actually. I found it in the library.” You whispered to him but somehow, with his dog-like hearing, Dick overheard the conversation.

“Oo! Gone girl? I love that movie, we should watch it next.” The oldest boy said and Cassandra and Tim were quick to shush him and he did so but not without rolling his eyes. “It’s a movie?” Damian whispered to you, who nodded. Bruce almost cooed at how cute the two of you were.

Damian considered sticking around for the rest of the night to watch this movie but when less than twenty minutes passed and popcorn went flying everywhere, he was questioning that idea. “Holy shit! Why would he do that!?” Dick shouted as everyone complained about the popcorn in their hair and on their clothes.

Damian, of course, had nothing on him because you shielded his body “How could you be so careless? You got popcorn all over her.” Damian said snarkily while crossing his arms against his chest. Dick rolled his eyes “Oh please, you just started liking her. I was the first to like her!” Dick shouted in defense, making you and Bruce sigh.

Somehow, always, movie nights ended up in arguments that almost always involved Dick. “Whatever! You still put this filth on her.” The young boy cursed while the others merely groaned in annoyance. “Uh, can you guys keep watching the movie? I’m still trying to read.” You said a bit quietly trying not to get in the middle of their argument.

It happened every time. You’d get in the middle and they’d start asking you questions which you’d have no answer to because you didn’t want it to look like you were playing favorites. “Oops. Sorry.” Dick apologized and Damian nodded in agreement. “I’ll be quiet too.” He muttered before beginning to watch the movie again.

You sighed in relief as you leaned against Bruce’s arm. He thought it was so cute how the two of you were finally getting along, it made him so happy. Until you started backing him up even more on stupid shit like the topic of school and patrol.

A few days after movie night, Bruce was getting ready to walk out of the door for work when he spotted you and Damian on the couch still in your pajamas watching Criminal Minds while eating toast. “Um, what are you two doing?” He asked, buttoning his suit as the two of you looked up at your boyfriend.

“We’re watching Criminal Minds father. It is quite an interesting show.” Damian said, shrugging. Initially, he had planned to just jump straight into training after you told him he could stay home but you asked him to watch at least one episode and that episode turned into almost half a season watched.

Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before pointing at Damian “You need to be at school.” He then pointed at you, “And you need to be at work.” Bruce finished earning an irritated sigh from his son and a loud whine from his girlfriend.

“Damian doesn’t need school and the shop is closed for today.” You said sitting up while Damian continued to lay down while humming in agreement. “Okay well Damian still needs to be at school.” The older man said fairly tired with how Damian upright refused to go to school everyday and now you were helping him.

“No need. I think I’m well off on sex education, slope and how to understand The Lord of the Flies.” Damian said passive-aggressively which made you chuckle a bit but when Bruce gave you a slight glare, you shut your mouth and looked away.

Bruce sighed once more and you grabbed Damian by his shoulders and hugged him close to you. Damian still was not used to your affectionate side but he could live with being hugged by you now. “Please! Brucie, I’ll make sure he doesn’t train too much and Criminal Minds could help him on his patrol and stuff!” You shouted and Damian nodded in agreement as usual despite not exactly agreeing with you.

There wasn’t anything on Criminal Minds that he hadn’t already learned except for maybe the occasional Spencer Reid comment but it’d make his case of staying home better. “Okay fine.” He said putting his hand on the doorknob but then he looked back at you and pointed “I’ll deal with you later.” You looked away awkwardly feeling a bit embarrassed but wished him a goodbye as he left the Manor.

Damian scoffed and continued to eat his cereal “He’s annoying.” He muttered and you looked at him with a shocked face but he only looked confused. “Hm? You say that all the time. I remember when you said that about Kent.” Damian responded and now it was your turn to look confused with a small laugh.

“Which one?” You asked and Damian hummed “You said it to his face.” Yet again you seemed confused and Damian smiled. He loved how mean you could be sometimes “Clark.” Damian responded plainly. You laughed, making him chuckle a bit.

It seemed that life was a bit more pleasant for him because of his and your alliance. He can’t wait for when you start tagging in his arguments with Dick and Todd while you were just happy that your boyfriend’s son finally likes you!

©torasplanet .ᐟ reblogs and likes are very appreciated! pls do not repost!!

[norrizzandpia]

you’re my absolute favourite lando fanfic writer, i get so excited whenever you post. can you do some sort of fake dating x enemies to lovers with lando & some angst & grovelling please? i leave the rest up to you, i can’t wait to see what you come up with<3

THIS IS THE BEST MIX OF TROPES I HAVE EVER SEEN I LOVE YOU FOR THIS also thank you so much for saying I’m your fav lando writer I’m blushing ☺️

You Were Never What I Wanted, (LN4)

Summary: Lando and Y/n have never liked each other and it’s only the distaste the world has for them when McLaren forces them to “put on a show for the public”. At first, a few hand holds and light, quick kisses seem to be tolerable, yet feather light touches turn into longing stares and, suddenly, they’re falling in love. Although, hatred is a powerful emotion. Can love really trump it?

Warnings: language, sexual discussions, very mild smut, lando and yn yearning, yn calling lando a man whore not affectionately, talks of death, a crash, she’s long so grab popcorn, omfg this one hurts

Note: i love a good fake dating y’all don’t GET. IT. Also i added the reformed playboy trope to this to spice things up! It’s very mildly mentioned tho UPDATE: PART 2 POSTED!

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Lando screeches, body flying from his chair beside Y/n.

Charlotte smiles tightly at him, nodding slowly and putting her hands up, “Lando, yes. You know this is the only way to clean up the reputation you two have developed together.”

He groans, turning to pace the room when Zak interrupts, “Lando, be a fucking man and clean up the mess you’ve made.”

He turns quickly, eyes bulging as he yells, “It wasn’t fucking me! It was her!” He turns to look at Y/n, bewildered look in his eyes as he points furiously at her, “It was you! You got us into this mess! You clean it up!”

Y/n rolls her eyes at him and he almost loses his head, “You’re just as at fault, Lando. You’re the one that openly criticized my driving in a room full of reporters and cameras!”

“I was asked a fucking question, Y/n. It was my job to answer it honestly.” He shoots back.

She scoffs, “Are you fucking psychotic? Or just that fucking stupid? Our job is to lie to the press, that’s what it’s always been. Don’t fucking change it when it’s convenient for you.”

Lando’s hands claw at his eyes as they continue to bicker, “The only person who’s stupid here is you.”

“I was standing up for myself!”

“Oh, yeah?! Now, look where that’s gotten us! A fucking PR stunt!”

“Get over yourself, Lando! You’re just as at fault!”

“You’re so fucking annoying, Y/n! Can’t take any fucking accountabil-”

“Oh, please, you’re one to ta-”

“OKAY!” Charlotte claps her hands as she stops the two drivers. The image before her is one she never thought she’d see this season. Lando Norris, a McLaren driver and well known playboy, getting mad he had to kiss one of the most beautiful women to grace the sport of Formula 1, fellow driver on the grid, Y/n Y/l/n. She surely would’ve chuckled if Lando’s eyes weren’t alive with an angry fire she needed to diffuse immediately.

“You two need to just realize that whose fault this was doesn’t matter. What you need to focus on is pretending you’re in love, so the media stops breathing down McLaren’s and Red Bull’s necks. This is the only way we can make all this bad press go away.” She explains, hands moving rapidly in front of her as she tries to calm the two down.

Y/n, the more rational one, nods, accepting her fate with grace. Lando, on the other hand, stomps his foot on the ground and mutters a sentence of agreement before storming out of the room.

Y/n laughs, turning to Zak and Charlotte, the papaya employees looking as if five years had just been taken off their lives, “I don’t know how you put up with him. He’s so fucking childish.”

Charlotte, media trained, smiles, “He’s better when he isn’t angry.”

Zak, not media trained, nods, “Y/n, I’ve never agreed with you more.”

The man and woman share a look, a subtle scolding glint in Charlotte’s eye as she stares at Zak. He backs down, earning a giggle from Y/n as she begins to leave the room.

“You’ll send the NDAs and other contracts over to Red Bull, right? I’d like to get this started and over with as soon as possible.” Y/n smiles, a soft one that makes others feel warm inside.

Charlotte nods, “Of course. Consider it done.”

Y/n, keeping her smile and composure, withdraws from the room, the door closing with a loud click.

Zak and Charlotte are left to sink down into the chairs behind them. Slugging, Zak’s head lulls to her side, “This is either the best idea we’ve ever had or the worst one.”

She laughs, “They either fall in love or hate each other more.”

—

“Okay, so,” Charlotte smiles at Lando and Y/n from her side of the SUV, the two on either side of the car, sitting as far away from the other as possible, “This is going to be a short outing.”

“Thank God.” Lando mumbles under his breath, earning a scowl from the girl beside him.

Charlotte huffs, continuing, “Just a coffee run. You’ll go into the cafe, holding hands, maybe a kiss or two, get your drinks, and then leave. Very quick. However, I need you two to give it your all. This will be the first time the public sees you as something more than enemies. It needs to be convincing. Heart eyes and maybe, if you’re comfortable, roaming hands.”

Lando’s head turns in utter disgust, “If you fucking think I’m going to touch her ass or some shit, you’ve absolutely lost it.”

Y/n’s body whips around, whole torso facing him as she stares him down, “Oh, please, Lando, you get no fucking women. You haven’t touched anybody’s ass, let alone a girl’s, in fucking ages.”

“Oh, yeah? Then, explain the girl that woke up in my bed this morning!” He fires back, head tilting in a challenging way.

Y/n shoves her arms across her chest as she sits back and whispers, loud enough for him and Charlotte to hear, “Man whore.”

Charlotte’s eyebrows lift slightly, exhaling a breath, “Well! This should be fun!”

The car comes to a stop in an alleyway, hidden from prying eyes. Charlotte lets the silence pass between the two for a few moments before leaning over and opening Lando’s door, “Well, get on with it! Chop chop! Don’t have all the time in the world.”

Lando slides out of the car, shaking his head and grumbling incoherently. Y/n follows him, however, when she gets her legs hanging out the door, she is reminded of just how high the car is off the ground. She goes to turn her body around, opting to slide slowly out on her stomach in avoidance of an accident, but, before she can get positioned, Lando grabs her hips and lifts her from the car, down onto the ground.

There’s a moment where she’s so taken aback, surprised, by the movement, all she can do is grip onto his biceps and stare down at her feet, safely on the pavement. It’s only when Charlotte starts yelling, “Yes! Yes, Lando! Just like that! Look at her like that!” That she looks up. What she finds is deep green eyes completely dilated and lost in the sight of her. She reminds herself of the hatred this man has for her, brushing off the way his hands squeeze over the flesh of her hips desperately, and removes herself from his hold.

Immediately, he comes to, the snarl replacing whatever emotion had taken over his face before. She trails down the dirty, smelly passageway, hearing Lando’s feet patter behind her.

It’s as if she’s achingly aware of his presence when he reaches her, just before they turn onto the public street, and takes her hand in his. The way his cologne wraps around her body, suffocating her in the most addicting way, and the feeling of his fingers fitting perfectly in the divots of hers, soft against her skin, has Y/n reeling. She goes along with his movements, relying on him to guide her as she travels to a place where Lando’s just the man she used to think he was; insanely hot and incredibly charming.

He pulls her back, however, when he opens the door for her and quietly says her name when she doesn’t walk through.

“Y/n?” His hand tugs against hers, smiling softly at the way she stares off into space. Whether that smile is genuine, although, Y/n has no clue.

She shakes her head, murmuring a thank you to him as she scurries past the threshold. When they both enter, their presence is immediately clocked by the other customers waiting for their orders. That’s what Y/n tells herself when Lando comes up behind her, arms around her waist as he rests his head on the top of hers.

“What do you want, baby? I’m paying.” He says, low enough for it to come across as a whisper, but loud enough for the girl in front of them to turn her head slightly in curiosity.

He’s surprisingly good at this, falling into the role demanded of him in a way that has Y/n faltering. She was expecting a man who was so distant from her, the same as her past partners, she had to beg for his attention. Yet, here she was getting showered in affection by a man she was convinced didn’t have the capacity for it.

Her response is easy, covering for the feelings arising within a certain part of herself she can’t quite name, “Just a cappuccino. Thanks, Lan.”

His grin is sweet as he lays a kiss on her temple. His hands rub over her hips as he detaches himself from her body and moves in front of her, teasingly pushing her away from the register with a light laugh.

Lando spews off the order to the man behind the counter as Y/n moves to the other side of the establishment, residing where the orders are dropped off. It could’ve been strategic, it probably was she promises herself, but Lando yells across the store to her.

“Y/n! Love, do you want food? They have your favorite here,” He smiles at her, earning a few giggles from fawning girls in the corner, “Croissants!”

Did he know croissants are actually her favorite or was that just a lucky guess?

Y/n gives him an airy chuckle, head falling back slightly in a lovesick way as she shakes her head, “Nah, I’m okay. Just gives us another opportunity to come back here.”

He nods at her, shaking his head at the barista and handing him some cash.

He tips the change, a hefty amount seemingly as Y/n watches the worker hesitate and thank Lando profusely. Her heart warms, shining on the inside as he treats hardworking people, those who are usually treated horrifically, with the utmost respect.

These reactions she’s having toward him are confusing, a far off nagging in her brain that she might’ve always wished for this type of attention specifically from him.

Nevertheless, she forces her mind to end its overwhelming thoughts when he waltzes over and sidles up next to her. She’s determined to keep this transactional, however she can.

She can’t get feelings.

She won’t get feelings.

And that was that, she decided.

“Lando!” Another worker calls out, setting down two drinks on the counter in front of them. Y/n goes to pick them up, however Lando beats her, giving her a cheeky grin as he mumbles, “You’re my girlfriend, Y/n. You don’t get the drinks, I do. Don’t be barbaric.”

She stands staring at him, mouth agape at his comment as the girls sitting behind them, somehow closer now, gasp.

Y/n hits his arm, the liquid jostling in his grip, “We weren’t supposed to say anything yet!”

He shrugs in return as he pushes the door open with the side of his body, and waits for her to walk through, “I guess I just couldn’t wait, baby. Too in love.”

She shakes her head at him, taking the drink from his hand, their digits brushing against the other’s in an electrifying way, “Down the toilet goes the soft launch plan.”

As they turn the corner, the smile he had been adoring her with suddenly vanishes and the usual pain that fills his expression when he’s around her returns.

“I’m just trying to get this over with, Y/n. Waiting a whole fucking month to tell some fans we’re together is so fucking stupid and I’m not doing it.” He bites out, a hostility to him she had forgotten in the ten minutes he had just treated her like she was his everything.

She drops the coffee on the ground as they grow closer to the car, shock at his quick change in attitude forcing her body to go numb. Lando stops when she does, both of them staring down at the leaking, steaming drink.

He dryly laughs at her, “How fucking stupid! Can’t even hold her own drink! No wonder you’re a shit driver!”

He gets in the car, shutting the door harshly and leaving her to internalize his criticisms.

For some reason, after getting a glimpse at what being loved by him feels like, his words hurt more, mean more.

What a dangerous game.

—

Lando is a known party animal. He’s in love with the blinding lights, loud music, and alcohol flowing without a care in the world what hangover he’d be graced with in the morning. However, with her here, it proves to be a much more stressful experience.

She’s glued to his side, not particularly the clubbing type, and Lando feels his heart quicken when other men bend their backs to see her walk away. A month into the arrangement they structured and he’s consistently feeling as if he’s fighting off every man that floats their way.

He’s worried someone will try to take advantage of her; he’s worried someone will spike her drink; he’s worried someone will touch her weirdly; he’s worried someone will bother her.

He’s worried about her.

A thought so pressing he forces it out of his mind, away from the impending cloudiness that accompanies a topic so big; the way he feels toward her.

The way it was explained to him, by the joint teams of McLaren PR and Red Bull PR, was that, for the first few weeks, their relationship outings would consist of soft dates, quick times spent out together grabbing takeout or a few pictures here and there on both their social medias that addressed their relationship status. Once they got past that time period, they would begin to see the public more often as a union. Long dinners, a handful of charity functions, a gala, and nights out clubbing riddled his calendar now.

Something he wasn’t too opposed to he was coming to find out.

That was the phase they were entering now; the hard launch. After his stunt in the coffee shop those four weeks ago, the teams had to regroup. The girls who had been hanging around had heard his slight confession of love, plastering it on the internet for every person to see.

The consequence? Lando didn’t get to be seen with Y/n for a week as the PR teams waited for the attention around the news to subside.

He wouldn’t risk that now.

Not when he was beginning to get used to the way her hand held his bicep as his fingers tangled in her other hand below.

“Lan?” She yells in his ear, their footsteps just now reaching the VIP section as the bodyguard lets them through.

He looks down at her, their faces centimeters away, lips centimeters away, and Lando’s scared.

Scared of the things he wants to do as her plump, pink lips sit right below his.

“Yeah?” His eyes avert to Max, his best friend, the boy giving him a knowing glance as he sips on his glass.

“Get me a drink please? I would do it myself, but I don’t want to risk having to talk to a random guy and-” He interrupts her immediately when she mentions the possibility of someone else hitting on her.

“I got it.” He’s spinning around, fast walking toward the bar before she can tell him what she wants.

She turns around, wandering over to Max and plopping down beside him on the soft, black couch in the corner of the room.

Max shakes his head as he looks at her, chuckling softly before letting his head fall to his chest.

“What?” She asks, eyebrows raising at the boy she had grown close to over the time she’d spent with his friend.

“You two are so funny.” He continues giggling, his girlfriend smacking his arm with a cautious look.

Y/n’s eyebrows furrow, “What?”

“You guys say you hate each other, but then you look at each other like you can’t wait to rip the other’s clot-” He begins, but Pietra slaps her hand over his mouth.

“MAX FEWTRELL!” She screams over the music, “NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!”

Her scolding makes him cower into himself, a drunken look on his face as he searches for mercy from his girlfriend.

Y/n is about to press for more when Lando shoves her drink in front of her, holding it out for her until she cradles it in her own.

Looking down at it, her head tilts, “A vodka soda with two orange slices?”

Lando stares at her blankly, “Yeah, you’re favorite, right?”

She nods, “Yeah.”

They look at each other for a moment. Confusion on both their faces for two different reasons.

“Is that a problem?” He asks her, hand dangerously close to her thigh and heating the skin of her leg up with the need for him to splay his fingers across it.

She shakes her head slowly, “No, just- How did you know it was my favorite?”

Emotions flash through his eyes, too fast for Y/n to decipher them. He withdraws physically, cold returning to her leg when his hand retracts to his lap.

“Uh, you just told me a few times.” He stutters.

If she knew him better, she might say for certain he was nervous.

Not mentioning the fact she had never told him what her favorite alcoholic drink was, Y/n moves on. It’s not because she doesn’t want to find out how he knew what she liked or that she simply doesn’t care how he knows, it’s because a camera catches her peripheral eye. Her head discreetly moves to the side, analyzing the drunken girl who stumbles over to the railing and points her phone right at them.

Y/n falls into Lando’s side, his body laid against the back of the couch and making for a comfortable cushion. His arm automatically wraps around her shoulders as her hand plants itself on his upper thigh.

When her fingers brush teasingly close to his crotch, he looks down at her, astonished, “What are you doing?”

“Camera.” She says, his eyes looking up through his lashes before he sees what she had witnessed before.

He nods subtly, leaning down immediately to press his lips to hers shortly. It’s a kiss like the ones they’d had before, quick and dry, yet, this one, instead of pulling away right after, Lando lingers. His lips brush against hers in hesitation, as if he’s deciding whether or not he wants to lean back in for more. His eyes stare into hers, top lip hitting her bottom one as he dips his chin down. He’s close to taking what he wants, breath heavy against her face as he holds her to him. His hands eagerly claw at her dress, forcing her to stay where she is, where he wants her to be, close to him. Yet, he continues to hesitate.

Finally, for the first time, Y/n sees the emotion that hides behind the beautiful color of his eyes; confusion.

It’s only for a split second though. She sees it only for a millisecond as Lando feels the way she breaks down a wall he had built up long ago. When she realizes the war behind his head, he retreats.

His hands fall from her back and his head turns to the side, rejecting what he wanted to do. She watches him look for the girl that had been filming them, eyes roaming over the crowd before coming to the conclusion she was gone.

“No camera.” He says curtly, pushing her off him as he gets up from the couch and walks back to the bar.

She watches him order another drink, no doubt for himself.

Her eyes train on the drink that sits, sweating, on the table in front of them.

Lando’s drink that’s completely full.

🏎️

Liquid courage is a real thing. It’s what drives Lando to ask Y/n to join him on the dance floor. It’s what drives Y/n to pull him into her and sway her hips right against him. They’re on beat with the music, it thumping in their hearts as Lando grips her hips and forces her body closer to his. There’s a newfound sexual tension, rather than the usual tension that consisted of complicated feelings and lingering hurt over past insults. Her hands drape over his neck, head in his chest as he lays his against her shoulder, withholding groans when she circles her hips and accidentally caresses his dick.

His head’s somewhere else, terrifyingly so. He’s not fully thinking through his actions or the thoughts running through his head, the consequences they would have.

All he can think about is the feeling of Y/n’s boobs pressed up against his chest, her cleavage cum-worthy when he looks down and sees her potential spill-out.

The chorus of Love Tonight pumps through the speakers, communicating the feelings they’re too scared to say.

All I need is your love tonight.

All I need is your love tonight.

All I need is your love tonight.

All I need is your love tonight.

The music spurs him on, almost nudging his head downwards to meet her in the same spot they had been in just a few hours before.

His lips hovering over hers with the same thoughts as before, Lando’s brain goes haywire. She’s panting against him, hips relentless as they continue to circle against him. He’s drowning in her, no escape from the hold she has on him.

Fuck it, he thinks.

He smashes his lips against hers, the first kiss they’ve had that truly puts into perspective how much they want each other. Teeth clashing, his tongue wandering the walls of her mouth, Lando and Y/n fail to come up with an excuse for their actions.

No cameras, no fans, no press.

Just the two of them, dancing and kissing with one singular goal.

All I need is your love tonight.

—

“Here’s your check! Thank you for joining us tonight!” The waiter smiles, setting down the black booklet as Lando quickly swipes it from the table.

Whining, Y/n waves her card around, “Lando, when are you going to let me pay? I don’t think I’ve paid a single time we’ve been together.”

He smiles at her mischievously, “Exactly.”

She rolls her eyes, “Lando,”

He eyes her as he scribbles onto the receipt, “Y/n,”

She scoffs, sitting back in her chair with a huff.

When he’s done, he gives her a sympathetic look before reaching across the table and grabbing her hand, “How about next time we get coffee you pay for your own?”

She looks away from him with a failing suppressive smile, “That’s like five dollars, Lan! You’ve probably spent thousands in the time we’ve been together.”

He shakes his head, “Doesn’t matter.”

Her face scrunches up, “Yes, it does!”

He’s about to rebuttal, but the screeching of people close to them takes their soft eyes off the other.

A mixed group of girls and boys stop at their table, smiling brightly at the two drivers. One of them stands in the middle, phone clutched to her chest as she asks, “Can we get a picture?”

Lando looks to Y/n, searching for approval, but she’s not looking at him. He watches her face light up, smiling big at the fans in front of them as she gets up from her chair.

“Yeah, of course!” She laughs, a sound so light and delicate, it makes Lando’s heart clench in his chest. He never saw the way she acted around fans, having been isolated from them in the times they were together. However, now, as he stays put in his chair and stares on, he adores the way she adores them.

His hands clasped in his lap, Lando sits motionlessly. He can’t take his eyes off the woman who is very clearly making this group’s year. They all stare at her as if she held the moon in their hands, a present from her to them. There’s a simple sparkle in their eyes as she takes pictures with each of them, a simple sparkle that tells him just how much these kids look up to her.

He’s enamored by her, just like they are. For different reasons, though.

“Lan, are you going to get up?” She giggles, hitting his arm and reminding him of the task at hand.

The group stares at him, not the same way they had stared at her notably. He can tell they value him, they’re excited by him, but they aren’t starstruck by him.

He can live with that, though. He gets what it’s like to become speechless over something so beautiful.

After a few more clicks of the camera, the supposed couple sits back down in their seats, but Y/n doesn’t let the fans leave yet. He watches as they brighten at her starting conversation with them.

He loves this. He loves he-

“I have to say, I was so surprised when I found out you two were together.” One of the girls in the group interrupts his questionable internal dialogue. He’s relieved, however. He can’t be thinking that way.

He can’t be feeling that way.

He isn’t.

Y/n tilts her head up at them, “Yeah?”

The group nods and one of the boys speaks up, “Yeah, you two, like, hated each other.”

Everyone laughs, Y/n sitting back in her chair as Lando watches her take the statement easily, “Well, we didn’t hate each other. We did love each other, just didn’t know how to deal with it.”

Her eyes meet his and, for a moment, Lando wonders if she truly means it or if she’s signaling for him to add on.

He goes with adding on, “Yeah, definitely. Who could hate her?”

You could, she thinks. You do, she thinks.

The words sink her heart to her stomach. A reality so crushing, she hates to entertain it. When this is all over, he’ll go back to hurting her with jabs that attack her self-confidence and she’ll be left to hang on to the man he had been when they were “together”.

She doesn’t want to go back to hating him, yet she’s scared she will. She doesn’t want to go back to knowing who he truly is at his core, yet she’s scared she will.

She doesn’t want to go back to knowing what he truly thinks of her, yet she’s scared she will.

By the time she returns to the conversation, the fans are simultaneously thanking them for their time and kindness. Leaving them alone, Lando stands from the table and checks the bill once more. Y/n grabs her bag, “Why’re you checking it again?”

He looks up at her as his pointer finger lingers on the paper, “Oh, just calculating what you’ll owe me when this is all said and done. You know, when we go back to hating each other’s guts.”

He says it jokingly, she can tell he’s teasing as he laughs it off, holding her hand gently as he leads her out of the restaurant. But, none of that stops the way she exhales a deep breath, a sigh that carries so much pain, she wonders where it came from.

Lando used to mean nothing to her, or so she thought.

Had he always meant everything?

—

Silverstone is supposed to be a fun race for Lando. It’s one of his favorites on the calendar. Although, that joy is rapidly tanking as he races quickly around the track, smoke emitting from behind him and filling the air, filling his helmet. He coughs harshly as he rushes into his radio, “Was that a crash?! Who is it?! Are they okay?! Is it on fire?! There’s smoke.”

There’s panic in his voice, knowing regardless of who it is, he’ll be worried.

Andrea’s silent on the other line, heightening Lando’s concerns.

“Andrea! What’s going on? Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you.” Andrea responds immediately.

Lando rounds a corner before he speaks back, confusions drenching his tone, “Okay, so who was that? Are they okay?”

Andrea is monotone, “I don’t know if they’re okay right now.”

Lando’s heart drops, “Oh, no, who was it? Was it one of the Williams? A Ferrari? Maybe a Haas?”

Again, Andrea doesn’t answer him and Lando is about to press him further when he reaches the crash site once more. Eyes trained on the color of the car, the words “Red Bull” hit him hard.

Andrea waits for the anxiety to kick in on the other line, fully prepared to talk him down as he watches for any updates on the crash.

“IT’S A FUCKING RED BULL! IS IT Y/N? ANDREA, IS IT Y/N?” He screams, voice shaking as he begins to slow down, cars passing him by and making him lose positions.

Andrea watches the decline of Lando’s car in the race standings, head falling as he realizes no information about Y/n will come quick enough to make him get back in the race.

Calmly, he responds, “I am not sure who it is yet.”

He hears Lando groan aggressively, “Bullshit! Is it her?!”

His yelling can be heard throughout the entire wall, everyone giving side glances to Andrea over the man who is currently screaming.

“Lando, I promise you, if I knew who it was, I would tell you.” Andrea gives, voice pleading.

It’s quiet for a moment, the only thing heard being the sounds of Lando’s heavy breathing. Solemnly, Andrea watches a camera zoom in past the smoke and center the number of the car in the frame.

Y/n’s car.

Clicking the button, Andrea speaks to Lando, “I can confirm it is Y/n’s car. No knowledge of if she’s gotten out of the car or not.”

Again, there’s silence before Lando’s hand smacks his steering wheel and he lets out a noise filled with anguish, “Please, tell me when you find out.”

Torturously, Lando passes by her car at every turn, watching only for a second as people work to try and get her out of the car.

Andrea watches in horror as a group of men lift her from the car, her body limp and unmoving as they run her to the safety car.

“She’s out of the car.” He murmurs to Lando, praying the boy won’t ask more questions.

He does, “Good! That’s good! By herself or did she need aid?”

The sound of Andrea’s heavy sigh kills Lando, “No, not by herself. She needed help.”

“How much help?”

Silence.

Lando yelps, “ANDREA! TELL ME WHAT’S GOING ON RIGHT FUCKING NOW! THIS IS MY FUCKING GIRLFRIEND! HOW MUCH FUCKING HELP?”

“She’s not moving.”

Lando doesn’t say anything, his mind racing as his eyes water.

Finally, he speaks, “I need to retire the car.”

Andrea and the rest of the pit wall turn to look at each other with outraged stares, “What? No, Lando. The car’s perfectly fine. The pace is great, no dam-”

Lando interrupts Andrea with a broken voice, “The car’s not the reason we need to retire the car. It’s the driver. It’s me.”

Everyone can hear it in the way his voice cracks, he’s crying, knowing he can’t see through it. It’s a danger, it truly is, and that forces Andrea and the team to comply with Lando’s demands.

When he parks in the garage, he clampers out. Shoving engineers, Andrea, his dad, Zak, and anyone else who gets in his way or tries to talk to him, Lando sprints over to the medical center. On his way, he loses his mind over the possibility that she might not be there, already at the hospital, or she will be there, but just her lifeless body.

He’s still drenched in sweat, the amount doubling from his running, when he gets there. Lando pushes past the people who stand at the front, not giving them time to tell him he can’t come in. He hears them call out in opposition, but he’s already in and he just doesn’t care.

There’s no time to address the feelings swirling in his stomach that feel ten times what he had felt for any of his past girlfriends. There’s no time to talk about the way he cries over the image of her burning car or her unconscious body being pulled from it. There’s no time to talk about the fact that, last year, he wouldn’t have acted this crazed over her accident. There’s no time to talk about the fact that, now, he’s fully prepared to brawl with anyone that dares to stand in his way of finding her.

There’s no time because he’s reaching her door and flinging it open. There are nurses beside her conscious figure, tending to the scratches and cuts she has from the car’s debris. Even with the bloodied bandages, Lando smiles at her smiling at him.

When she sees him, her arm reaches out for him without thinking. He takes long strides to get to her even in the small room and, when he does, he grabs her hand.

Kneeling down on the floor beside her, he squeezes her hand, “You okay?”

She nods, “Will be.”

“That’s good enough for me.” He whispers, nurses glancing at each other before exiting the room at the intimacy flowing between the two.

They really were selling this.

Suddenly, Y/n’s eyebrows knit together as her gaze lifts to the clock on the wall, “Wait, Lan, the race is still going. Did you crash?”

He shakes his head, eyes averting from hers, “No, I retired the car.”

Her other hand reaches to turn his gaze back to hers, holding his jaw softly as he smiles at her, “Why?” She whispers.

“Because I needed to make sure you were okay.”

The truth hangs in the air painfully.

They can’t speak of what that means or what that alludes to. They can’t speak of the way he clutches onto her hand as if she’ll go away. They can’t speak of the way he raced over here, throwing important people to the side in a state of pure panic. They can’t speak of the way they stare at each other, yearn for each other in a way that goes against every rule they agreed to when this started.

All they can do is kiss each other sweetly and lie.

Lie to themselves about what will happen after it’s over; lie to themselves about how much they truly care for each other; lie to the PR teams and tell them nothing is developing between them, that it’s safe to continue this.

And, most of all, later, when Zak asks Lando why he has lip gloss smudged against his mouth, they must lie.

—

“Can you zip me up?” Y/n turns around in the car, her back to Lando as her dress hangs open slightly at the top.

He nods, fingers delicate against her skin as he glides against it, trailing the cool metal up. His hands finish on her shoulders, slowly rubbing softly as she begins to lean against him.

“Lan, that feels good.” She mumbles, words slurred from the way his fingers work the knots under her skin.

Her body lies fully on him, his mouth by her ear as they wait to get to their destination. He continues to massage her, whispering random things in her ear about errands they need to run or complete tomorrow.

With her eyes closed and relaxed state, Lando admires how safe she feels around him. Five months ago, Y/n wouldn’t have dared to let him touch her in the way he was, in the way he had over the past two months, however things had changed. For better or for worse, Lando still wasn’t sure.

The driver in the front eyes them questionably, having witnessed the change in their dynamic over their months together.

With her body still limp against him, the car stops in front of the gala’s entrance. Photographers scream beyond the door and flashes of cameras blind them even as they sit behind the glass.

Looking at her and taking her hand in his, Lando whispers, “Ready?”

She nods, “Always.”

A man opens their door, the volume erupting as Lando steps out, his hand clutching Y/n’s as she follows suit. Immediately, they’re pulled into multiple pictures. Lando’s arm finds its home around her waist with Y/n’s hand resting on his chest, a couple so perfect for each other. Their endeavor had been so incredibly successful, both their teams’ PR divisions were pleasantly surprised. Lando looks on at her, a radiant smile gracing her face as she speaks to one of the reporters on the carpet, and hates the feeling of knowing how close the end is.

In just a few weeks, they’ll be sitting down to write a small paragraph, one that will be posted to their Instagram stories as it tries to sum up the romance they thought they had.

At night, he tries to think of words to describe the moments he’s had with her and, every time, he comes up empty.

Her laughing at the journalist’s joke makes him come to the conclusion there will never be a time where he can gather syllables to explain how undeniably perfect she is.

How he got to the place of being able to address how wonderful she was? Lando had an inkling it was because of the way she made his heart pound and hands sweat.

🏎️

Lando and Y/n easily make their rounds throughout the room, greeting sponsors and potential ones with their hands clasped together. It’s obvious how charming they are together, obvious when random strangers are flipping open their checkbooks at the sight of them. Lando knows it’s all her with her thoughtful sentences and engaging demeanor.

He’s a side piece and he’s okay with that, only okay with it when he’s her side piece.

They’re in the midst of sharing a new drink they decided to try, giggles shared between them as they pass the glass between each other. They had started doing this ages ago, when they first grew closer to one another. In order to make these events go by quicker, they started trying all the items on the alcoholic menu they had never heard before. Some of his favorite memories of her had taken place when she tried something she didn’t like and almost spit it out at him.

“I think this one’s good! What’s it called again? Something sexual, right?” She asks as he takes another swig.

Lando shakes his head, grin on his face as he lifts the drink up to their eye level, “I forgot, but it must be cum something. Sure does look like cum.”

Her mouth falls open and she screeches, “Lando!”

He falls over onto the table beside them, laughing, “What? You don’t swallow?”

She joins him in laughter, “You wish you knew.”

Of fucking course, he thinks.

“Lando?” A voice from his past calls from behind them.

Lando’s heart drops, turning around and seeing Luisinha.

“Hey, Lu!” She moves to hug him, squeezing him lightly before letting her eyes drift to the girl quietly standing with him.

“Hi, Y/n.” She speaks, smiling softly as she hugs her.

Luisinha giggles before looking between the two, “I assume I need to be reintroduced to you. Before, you were Y/n, driver for Red Bull. Now, you’re Y/n, Lando’s girlfriend.”

Y/n nods, a gesture that looks to come so easy to her, Lando wishes it was real.

They hug again, chuckling at the situation before Luisinha directs her attention back to her ex-boyfriend, “It’s nice to see you, Lan! All those nights spent on the phone just aren’t the same as seeing you in person.”

Y/n loses her breath over Lu’s words, gaze drifting immediately to Lando and watching as he nods along.

“Yeah! Seriously, talking to you over the phone isn’t enough.”

His response, easy and light, crushes her.

Y/n steps in closer, “Sorry, um, you two still talk?”

Luisinha looks to Lando, intrigue in her eyes as she searches him. Lando, the boy stuck between his past and present, realizes his mistake.

He shakes his hands, “No, I mean- Yes, but it’s not like that, Y/n.”

Luisinha stays silent as she watches Y/n try to keep her composure, “When was the last time you talked?”

Lando can’t bring himself to answer, so Lu does for him, feeling for the girl in between them, “Last night.”

He watches Y/n’s face slowly process the information. It’s as if reality comes crashing down on her, a harsh moment that reminds her of what they are to each other at the end of the day.

Y/n nods, smiling at the two before beginning to walk back, “I need a minute, sorry.”

Lu watches Lando long for her, momentarily wishing Y/n would just understand how much he feels for her, and Luisinha, finally, gets a wave of closure. She understands now why they broke up. When he ended it, Lando had told her he loved her more as a friend, something that broke her, yet, now, she understands why she had been so confused. Originally, she thought he did love her, he just been too afraid to tell her the real reason for their separation, but, as she stares at the pooling in his eyes, she sees a look she never got.

A look of intense love.

She nudges his arm, “Don’t let her get away.”

He nods at her, running off in the direction Y/n had left, eyes searching for her in the sea of people.

🏎️

Lando catches sight of her gorgeous y/h/c hair off in a small hallway of the hotel. He jogs over, her back to him, and lays a soft hand over her shoulder.

She stiffens, refusing to turn around and meet his eyes. However, his voice coaxes her, “Y/n, look at me.”

As much as she tries not to, she does and it breaks her further.

Her watery eyes and lost head tilt are a stab to Lando’s heart, her choked up voice speaking, “So, you were talking to her the entire time we were doing this?”

He’s at a loss, knowing that’s the perfect truth, yet knowing it isn’t fully, “Yes, but it doesn’t mean what you think it means.”

Her body jerks away from him and the anger he was usually greeted with returns, “Oh?! Then, what does it mean, Lando?! Because it looks like I meant fucking nothing to you! I know it isn’t in my head! I know what’s happened between us isn’t just some people getting over the hatred they had for each other! I thought you felt that way too!”

“I do!” He yells back, frustration at her obliviousness getting to him.

Tears leak down her face, “Then, why did you spend the entirety of this talking to your ex! Why’d you agree to this if you still love your ex?!”

Lando groans, “I don’t love my ex! I don’t love Lu! I love you!”

Her tears fall harder, “Do you? How could someone love another person they used to loathe?!”

Lando shakes his head, overwhelmed at what’s going on in his brain, “It just happened, Y/n! You think I thought this would happen?! No, I didn’t!”

Y/n resigns, quiet taking over other than their heavy breathing, “I don’t believe you.”

His annoyance takes over, “Well, then I don’t know what to tell you.”

I want you to tell me why you love me, she thinks. I want to know where your hate turned to love, she thinks.

Those things go unsaid.

Instead, she huffs, “I think this has gotten too out of hand. I think we need to end this arrangement early.”

She sees the unmistakable sadness etched into his face, “How early?”

“Like, tonight.” She whispers, protecting herself from the world of hurt that would be being loved by him. She isn’t Luisinha, she isn’t a model or breathtaking woman. She’s a girl who fell in love with a “boy’s” sport, a girl who has seen the flaws within herself and tried, desperately, to change them, rewrite them. She never does, although. She always comes out the same on the other side.

The truth catches up with her and images of the beautiful women Lando has had in his bed fill her mind. How does she know this isn’t some elaborate prank to get her vulnerable and then humiliate her out of the resentment he holds against her and the situation she got him in?

Lando musters up some sort of guard, distaste returning after its five month long hiatus, “Fine. I’ll let McLaren know. This works anyway. You served your purpose, got my reputation back to where it was before you came in and fucking destroyed it. You ruin everything, you know that, Y/n?”

She nods, cries intensifying at what she had been afraid of: his hatred for her returning after getting to know a side of him so tender.

“Got it, Lando.” She whispers, slinking past him and out of the building.

He watches her walk away, confused at how he had confessed his love for her and ended it by telling her she was destructive.

She isn’t. How could he say that?

How could he tell the one woman who had built him up that she had tore him down? How could he let frustrated anger replace the love he had for her?

How could he let her get away?

UPDATE: i posted part 2! Find it here.

A/N: TUMBLR GLITCHED OUT AND WAS CRACKING DOWN AT HOW LONG THIS WAS SO I WILL MAKE A PART TWO WITH A HAPPY ENDING I PROMISE