#his eyes and under-eyes are very lovely here

[tonycries]

Knight of Roses - G.S.

Synopsis. You, heir to the throne and fated to be married off to a royal you’ve never even met. Gojo Satoru, your personal knight and the one man that will not let this happen. He will not.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! princess! reader, knight! Gojo, childhood-friends-to-Iovers, PINING, arranged marriages, Naoya is awful, Gojo YEARNS, flower language, politics, slight víolence, slight angst, matíng presses, cervíx kíssing, creampíes, cúmplay, PÚSSYDRÚNK GOJO, oraI (fem rec), he goes FÉRAL, cúmming in his pants, manhandIing, spítting, biiig stretches, dúmbifícation, cúmflation, p talking, p sIapping, overstím, proposals, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 12.7k

A/N. What happens when ya let a girl listen to Golden Brown by The StrangIers.

“You are not to speak, you are not to look.” The king intertwines his decadently ringed fingers on his lap, the royal signet glinting pointedly amongst them. “You are not to so much as breathe in the princess’s way from tomorrow onwards.”

And it’s only with his hard-earned years as your knight that Gojo stops himself from shuddering where he knelt, head bowing to hide the clench in his jaw.

Though, surely something must have flashed across his features - because the next few words have a familiar warmth that twisted Gojo’s heart much more than his royal timbre, “Satoru, my boy, you understand that this is your duty? Yes?”

“I understand.” The answer is instant, as is the raise of the other man’s brows. 

“And do you understand that this marriage is my daughter’s duty?” Your father barks out a disbelieving laugh into the barren throne room. “We wouldn’t want Prince Naoya getting the wrong idea between the princess and a- a knight.” 

The words make his eyes prick wetly, and Gojo can’t help but bend even lower as he whispers. “I…I understand, sir.”

After all, it was the second thing that Gojo Satoru had drilled into his mind from the very moment he first met you.

The first being that he’s loved you ever since. 

Which - retrospectively speaking - might’ve been an incredibly bold declaration coming from the scrawny, fidgeting six-year-old you happened to catch sneaking in and stealing lilac blooms from the royal garden all those years ago.

He remembers how you’d giggled, looking positively like a little blossom in all those gauzy layers of gown. Piping up from under the lilac tree he was latched onto, “My father says that’s not allowed.”

Gojo had fallen then - literally, startling about six feet from the branch he’d been straddling and straight into a scratchy pile of leaves with a dull thud! Back hurting, head spinning, it was a wonder that he hadn’t sprained anything, but right then and there he remembers thinking he was in heaven.

Because here was a pretty lil’ angel his age ogling down at him, speaking in a regal accent so different from his. “My father says that’s not allowed either.”

Your grin beamed down on him and warmed his skin even more scorchingly than the balmy rays of sunlight filtering in through the leaves. And for the first time ever in his life, Gojo Satoru had stuttered. 

“Yer- yer father sounds stupid.” He had spit out, chubby cheeks puffing out the more you stared at him. What? He was sure he looked ridiculous with all those stray sticks and leaves stuck in his cloudy locks, but did you really have to look at him like…that? 

“My father…” Your lips curled even further, as if you knew something he didn’t. “-the king.”

Oh.

Oh. 

And it’s only then that Gojo notices the thin, silver tiara on your head, a delicate wreath of jeweled flowers that twinkled almost as bright as your eyes. It reflected specks of light into his gaze almost mockingly.

Idiot- it felt like someone had thrown a bucket of icy water over him that chilled him to the very bone. 

Even at the tender- well, wise and sensible age of six, Gojo had heard from the adults in town all about the torture chambers and p-prisons that the royal palace was home to. 

Just why did he feel the need to escape from his mother at the market to bring her a batch of those wispy, amethyst flowers anyway? 

Sure, they were her favorite but- the royal family would have his head before even she did. And he didn’t even get to butter her up with the lilacs!

“Forgive me!” Gojo had squeaked out in a cry so shrill that you hurriedly took a step back, eyes widening once the interesting boy in front of you dropped to his hands and knees. “Ah- I mean uh- forgive me, your highness- your princessness.” Drooping into a bow so low that his soft tufts of hair brushed the warm ground. Words tumbling out a mile a minute, “It was an accident- I must’ve been um sleepwalking and I pinky-promise won’t do it again-”

“Those lilacs haven’t bloomed yet, y’know?” You’re cutting him off smoothly, and Gojo remembers feeling a pang of irritation- let him recite his apologies before you throw him in a cell, dammit! Right before flooding with confusion, eyes snapping up to meet yours hesitantly. 

Pointing at a pretty white gazebo, overlooking the lake only a few meters away, you’d shrugged your shoulders. “The garden staff puts the best ones in a bouquet over there.”

At which, he’d replied with an exceptionally eloquent, “Huh?”

“Well, what my father doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

It’s only after hours upon hours of picking every lilac flower in sight and chatting about all the worldly topics a pair of six-year-olds knew that you were dragged away by one of your worried attendants. 

And he almost felt…sad about it. Weird. 

The yolky setting sun that day cast shadows for Gojo to hide himself in behind one of the gazebo pillars as he peeked at your retreating back. In-step with an older woman muttering about “losing her job oh- the king will banish her.” 

And if there was one thing that he would never forget - well, amongst everything else - it was the way his heart banged selfishly against his ribcage with a repeated turn around turn around turn around-

You did. And you’d smiled, and Gojo hasn’t been able to step away from your side since.

Well, he had to - to go home that evening and proudly proclaim to his thoroughly cross mother how he’ll become a knight, that is. 

Honestly, even the colossal lilac bouquet did little to deter her scoldings about running off. But despite how bad it was - and the fact that he was sentenced to be confined to his room for a whole month - it didn’t matter.

Gojo visited you the next day, too. 

And the day after that, and the day after that- and again and again no matter how many times you’d teased him about coming so often to see you. Because you were right there no matter what royal duties or lessons dictated, waiting in the lilac garden for him. 

Every day.

When Gojo was eighteen he’d applied for a position in the royal guard, breezing through the demonstrations of physical strength because of course, he did. He’d been training for his very day for years.

And it showed - oh, how it showed. 

It showed in the way he stood almost a head above every other man lined up there, veering numerous inches above six feet. All sculptured, Herculean muscles and arms toned from years spent climbing the palace orchards with you. The strongest. 

He considered himself exceedingly humble, too, of course. 

Humble enough to not brag outright in your face once Gojo had climbed the treacherous way into being your personal knight before the age of twenty. 

“Hah, I can tell your father- erm, his majesty all about where you sneak off to now.” Gojo snickered, flicking your forehead in a way that a princess simply shouldn’t be treated. “Perhaps I’ll bargain titles with him- tell the courts about the way you climb trees, and ride horses and-”

“Snitch”

“Harlot.”

“Knave.”

“Hobgoblin.”

“Satoru.” You’d deadpanned up at as six foot four inches of white-haired nuisance clinging onto whimpers out a dramatic ouch, that one hurt. Desperately trying to keep the smile off of your face, “You’re with me each and every single time.”

Well, was. 

It seemed like the king was to be putting a stop to that very, very soon. With your looming- he gulps to keep the leaden ball of tears away from his throat, your engagement. 

“Toru—” Your voice snaps him out of his hazy little reverie, and he finds himself straightening his back into a respectful posture outside of the throne room. Warily eyeing the way you bound up to him, “What did my father want to talk to you about so suddenly?”

“Ah…” Gojo’s throat feels hoarse. Parched. The smile plastering onto his face wobbly, “Just- just security measures for the visitor we’re going to have, your royal highness.”

Your brows quirk upwards, pretty lips falling open just enough for him to realize you were about to comment on his use of that. That title. 

“Now if you pardon this knight, ma’am-” Gojo pipes up before you can bludgeon him with questions, striding down the luxurious hallway to his newly-assigned post at the royal treasury. Far, far away from your chambers. “-I have been called by Knight Commander Yaga to my-”

“Satoru- wait.”

He should’ve known better than to have thought he could escape you - not when even his own heart didn’t want to.

Lurching up in an almost-nauseating swoop the moment your voice echoes from behind, hitting his glinting armor. “You…are you okay—? You haven’t called me any of those silly formal titles since we first met.” Words practically dripping with concern, fuck- he was sure your face was furrowing. And if it was up to him he would kiss away every tense crevice. 

But no, that was not his place. 

His place was to stand rooted to the spot, face turning only a half-degree to grace you with a soft bow. Gojo knew it wasn’t the epitome of respect, but a singular look in your face right now and he would break.

“I am in perfect condition to carry out my duties, ma’am.” He’s nodding, voice oh-so-brittle in his throat for how hardened it thundered.

“That’s not what I mean.” Stubborn.

Gojo turns back to the winding corridor in front of him, “Then if that is all, I shall be on my way. I hope you have a good day, ma’am.”

“Satoru.”

And if his cheeks were cold and encrusted with a few streaks of salty tears when he reached the treasury, Gojo was only grateful that his fellow knight Ijichi was too afraid of him to say anything.

.

.

.

Gojo Satoru was avoiding you - marching the other way if he glimpsed you, running around the palace for menial tasks, he wasn’t even your personal guard anymore, for goodness’ sake! Your best friend was ignoring you and you weren’t sure why. 

Was it because you had to skip out on your daily walks in the lilac garden to greet the visiting Zenin royals? 

No, he was always so understanding of the royal responsibilities that you couldn’t skive off. Besides, his strange attitude had sparked up even before Prince Naoya and his family arrived at your kingdom - ever since that meeting with your father.

You were dying to ask the king what exactly was talked about that day, a meeting so confidential that he didn’t even have the royal advisor transcripting it. But your father was always so busy with the older Zenin couple these days, cooped up in office rooms surrounded to the brim with official documents. 

And that left you with…him.

Naoya Zenin. A prince if there was ever any, who couldn’t talk about anything but that. 

“So…um.” Your eyes dart around the palace gardens, you always did love it here - that comforting smell of flowers wafting in clouds around you. But right now you felt anything but comforted. “How are you liking the garden, Prince Naoya?”

He shakes his brown-tipped locks, eyes narrowing. “Rather plebian for a royal palace, if I do say so myself.”

“R-right…” You’re sputtering in an unlady-like fashion, “We do have orchards too if you wanted to-”

“Of course, the gardens in my palace are much bigger-” He’s waving a gloved hand loftily, nose crinkling into a sneer at the bustling gardeners planting beautiful white blossoms everywhere. Honestly, you were informed there was a grand ball soon - but wasn’t this a bit much? “And we teach the help to stay out of sight.”

“Well, I think they’re really nice.” You’re huffing, brows marrying together. 

He scoffs, “Nice- or useful?”

“Both.”You fight the urge to just storm off then and there - it wouldn’t do good to start a war between the two most powerful kingdoms right now. 

“Ah yes yes- nice.” Naoya repeats airily, words warbling as if he was biting back a laugh. “Suppose the low-borns are tolerable if they’re nice.”

A vision of Gojo - tiny and trembling into a bow in front of you - flashed through your mind, and you find your pretty heels digging hard into the dark soil. That was it.

“Perhaps.” Your voice comes out dangerously even, dangerously. Naoya only raises his brows in faint interest, “Yet, even the least tolerable tch- ‘low-born’ would be more tolerable than a pompous, arrogant-”

“There you are, your highnesses!” 

Satoru. 

You would recognize that low, lilting baritone amongst a thousand others. And before you can turn around to face your best friend that had been missing for days, he plows on, “A little gift- from this lowborn.”

Thud!

Before you can even blink, pale hands reach out to unceremoniously dump a radiant yellow flower crown on Naoya’s blond bangs. And you swear Gojo pushed down on his head harder than necessary.

The first thing you register is the warm wall of muscles pushing up against your back, lecherously counting every ladder of washboard abs and Gojo’s plush pecs in your mind. Mindlessly, you’re leaning back even closer, savoring the way his breath hitches. Harlot. 

The second thing you’re realizing is that Naoya Zenin - for the first time in twenty-something years - had gone quiet. Very, very quiet. Suspiciously so. 

You force your words into some semblance of levelness, “Are you…are you alright, Prince Naoya?”

But Naoya didn’t speak - you didn’t know if he was even breathing. Long face growing greyer and greyer by the second, he doesn’t answer you.

No, instead he’s pointing a trembling finger behind you. “You there…you- what shrub have you placed upon my royal head?”

“Laburnum.” Comes the answer - and just as soon comes a drawling, strangled squawk.

Your first instinct is to look towards the shimmering lake not too far away from you, eyes searching for any trace of those familiar ducks- before gasping in surprise and looking back to the prince. Mouth ajar, still making those undignified noises. 

Him? 

“You- you will-” He hisses, so furious that you have to take a step back - right into Gojo’s waiting arms - to avoid his flecks of spit. “-you will pay for this.”

In only a split-second, Naoya had thrown the flower crown onto the ground and wheezed his way up the flowery pathway back to the castle. What a sight it was.

But nothing compared to the way that Gojo comes into your line of sight and preens. One hand tapping at his cheek in thought, the other held behind his back. “Whoops- I forgot that the king specifically informed me that our honored guest was allergic to laburnum flowers. Guess, low-borns aren’t of good memory. Right, my princess?”

“Satoru- you- you ass.” You’re yelping through fits of laughter, not caring for the way the rest of the gardening staff smiles knowingly. “What if that bastard gets deathly sick? The blame would be on you.”

He rolls his summer blue eyes, “Proudly.”

“I should send you to the gallows for this.”

Gasping in faux shock, “Most salacious indeed!”

And for the first time in so long, it feels normal. 

The breezing heat of Gojo’s body against yours feels normal, and you couldn’t bring yourself to think too deeply about it. Too enchanted by the sheer lack of armor - all billowy white poet shirt and flattering cotton pants. 

“Y-yeah well-” Shit- why was your skin burning this way? The sun wasn’t even at peak temperature for today. Absentmindedly, you’re playing with one of his silk lapels, “Thank goodness we’re losing him in a few days, I asked mother and she said the Zenin’s are only visiting until the fast-approaching ball.” 

“Princess-” It all comes out in a rush, “-that ball. The reason for it is actually-”

“Your highness! The queen is asking for a conference with you!” The curious voices of your maidservants drag you away from Gojo’s arms, into a much less scandalous position.

And yet, with only a nod behind - you still stay standing in front of him. You stay.

“Right…” Gojo’s prominent Adam’s apple bobs as he takes a deep gulp. Shadowy gaze darting away, “I should get back to my duties, ma’am. Suguru has been abusing his position as head gardener to work me like a mule.”

The way your face crumples with disappointment makes Gojo’s heart feel sliced open. And raw. “Of course. I’ll see you around, Gojo.”

Gojo. Gojo. 

And of course he couldn’t let you walk away - of course he couldn’t let you leave his life just yet. 

So without thinking, without even realizing, he’s clasping a slender hand around your wrist to pull you back. To reel you in. To him. 

Velvety strands of snow-white curtain Gojo’s eyes, and the doughy fingerpads on your skin shiver. Mumbling, “Before- Before you go, my prin- ma’am. I just wanted to give you-” And you don’t know what makes your heart race more - the cherry-red blush painting all over Gojo’s cheeks and up to the very tips of his ears, or the sunny flower crown clasped in a hand pulled from behind his back. “-this.”

Your mouth drops into an awe-struck oh! It was beautiful - trickling blossoms of every shade of yellow entwined gently together. Embedded with celestially dainty buds of an amber so pale it looked almost white, diamonds on a tiara fit for a princess. 

You had a feeling it would be your favorite one.  

All you could think of was Gojo with his staggering hands, and his battle-worn fingers, making something so delicate for you. 

“Is…is this one just as allergy-inducing as the other, Satoru?” You’re breathing, rustled by a breeze so gentle that it almost hurts.  

“No.” Gojo whispers, just as quiet. As if the slightest sign of a raised voice would break whatever saccharinely thick moment this was, “Yellow acacia and yellow carnation. For you, my princess.”

For the way he’d be losing you just as soon as he loses that asshat. 

And even once you’d adorned his crown and been hurried off by a few palace staff, Gojo stared. Even once you were nothing but a speck of royal satin and yellow crowns, he stared. Even once you were gone, and he was left so very alone, he stared. 

Only thanking the heavens above that you always slept through your flower language lessons. 

.

.

.

Over the next few days; wherever you were, Naoya Zenin was to follow. 

And Gojo was sure that it was pushing the young royal closer and closer to a spectacular aneurysm any time that you called specifically for him to accompany you. Blatantly refusing any other knight that came your way.

The pointed third during “romantic” boat rides on the lake, always the guard overseeing dinners, the one to step in with a blunder if your future fiancé got too…opinionated. Gojo was always there. 

It was more like you spent your time trying to make his dutiful façade crack than supposedly entertaining your guest.

Sneaky princess. 

After all - Gojo found himself pacing and arguing out loud with himself any time you did - he was simply doing his job, right? Even if the aforementioned job went against just a few direct orders from the king himself. 

But these were a direct order from the princess. His princess. And Gojo had stopped his procedural traversing and ranting since realizing this. 

Although- the head chef, Nanami’s, veiled threat about turning him into pig feed the next time he heard stomping may have played a slight part in this, as well. 

And it was on such a day that Gojo found himself stationed to guard the inside of the royal drawing room. Spine ramrod straight, eyes flooded with steel while he took in the sight of you and that bastard- Naoya sketching the other in silence. 

It was a dainty, sunlit room, and the hours might have almost been peaceful - if it wasn’t for the split-haired bastard, that is. 

After that flower fiasco and a thorough telling off for misremembering the prince’s allergies, this was meant to make up for a “bonding activity” according to the king; which to him read more like a desperate attempt to push the two of you together before the grand ball tomorrow night. 

Gojo’s chest caves in with a sudden spike of pain, tomorrow night. Your engagement ball, where you will surely be handed off to a man who wouldn’t be worthy of you in a thousand different lives. 

Fuck, had it really been days since already?

It hurt too much, and so he looks towards the prince’s parchment- how insulting. Hundreds of royal art lessons, yet Naoya still couldn’t capture the exact curve of your smile. And those pretty crinkles by your eyes- they were entirely the wrong number! And Gojo’s sure that any fool could see the way your lips-

He was getting ahead of himself. And reminded embarrassingly of the hundreds of sketches of you over the years stowed away underneath his bed alongside a stubby piece of charcoal. 

And he was leaning over the prince in a way that he was sure would get him strung and quartered in the Zenin palace. Or, at least, that’s what Naoya’s daggered glare was telling him. 

With a sheepish smirk, Gojo snatches a glimpse at your artwork. Stifling a laugh at the way you’ve given up on drawing the other man and started engaging in idle scribblings of weasels and hollies. 

“That one looks like him, don’t you think?” He can’t help but whisper from the corner of his mouth, stomach swooping in delight as soon as your eyes light up. 

Tacking on a familiar hairstyle and sneer onto a particularly shoddy caricature of one of the weasels, giggling. “He does.”

Gojo points at another drawing - this time of a bullfrog- honestly, what interests for a princess. “And that’s-”

“That Jinichi.” You’re finishing off for him, carelessly drawing away a few more - quite frankly, Gojo finds everything you do beautiful, but these were appallingly ugly - scribbles of foxes and goats. “That one’s Oji Zenin, and that’s Gakuganji and that’s-”

“Ahem.”

There was only one person who could make the clearing of a throat sound so snobbish. And that was Naoya Zenin. 

Brows raised, feet tapping impatiently on polished marble as he snatches the parchment from your grip. 

Schwing–!

“Toru- no.” 

Gojo doesn’t even realize he’s pulling out his famed, silver sword until you’re stopping him with a hand to his tense bicep. Shit.

Growling through clenched teeth once more at Naoya while he nestles it back into its scabbard with unsteady fingers - only because you asked. 

But the other man doesn’t even flinch - wearing that perfect mask of regal stoicity, though Gojo manages to catch the way his eyes flicker nervously down at the hilt of his sword. Doesn’t show anything other than the tightening of his thin lips as he gazes upon your humorous drawings. 

The impatient tap! tap! tap! of his feet slowing down, stopping - before Naoya throws your paper down onto the floor and stomps. Gojo would’ve almost found it comedic if it hadn’t been for your startled demeanour.

“Excuse me-” He’s hissing, angling his broad body between you and this unseemly sight. Gojo looks dead-on into Naoya’s spit-fire red face, “-but I would have to hope not to remind a young prince of royal etiquette.”

“Excuse me, sir.”

“No need to call me ‘sir’, your highness.”

Naoya looks up, death in his eyes.

Gojo thought this might be the end. The missed trip to the dungeons all those years ago was finally catching up to him, and he would be thrown in today for drawing his weapon on a royal but goddammit- if he wasn’t going to keep you safe from his ire for as long as he breathes and then some.

But - to both you and Gojo’s surprise, and perhaps even Naoya himself - he simply turns swiftly on his heels and walks out of the room. Letting the heavy double-doors SLAM! deafeningly behind him. 

It takes a beat. One. Two. 

He counts every raging ba-dump–! of his heart against this ribcage- before the terse silence shatters with laughter. 

“Toru- To- Satoru—!” You’re wiping away genuine tears, “‘No need to call me sir-’ where did you even come up with that-”

“Fuck! You can laugh but I thought I was headed to the gallows.” He’s exclaiming, and it was quite difficult to act as if your laugh wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d heard in his entire life. “Although- it would have been a killer last line. Wouldn’t it, my princess?”

The two of you stare at each other for one singular ba-dump–! Before bursting into peels of undignified cackles that could make an entire court shiver in scandal. 

“Killer- killer alright-” You’re rolling your watery eyes, “This is just as bad as the time you caught Yaga in his interpretive rain dance routine- I thought you were surely dead then.”

Please, Gojo’s stomach and his heart were hurting - though, for very different reasons. “Not as bad as when you wanted to play dress-up with the sacred royal crown and lost it.”

“Don’t remind me, my father was-” That’s when your tear-lathered lashes flutter, a hand coming up to swat softly against your cheek as if to jolt back your senses. You’re groaning over Gojo’s whine, “-my father. Oh no! What will he say about this?” You almost knock your cushy stool over with how fast you’re teetering into a stand, “I must go apologize to weasel- Naoya right away lest relations with the Zenins-”

“Let me.”

Your brows raise, “What?”

“Let me.” Gojo’s repeating, more firmly this time. Thumb grazing briefly down your knuckles as he pulls you back into your seat. 

Just for a split-second - like he couldn’t even think of letting himself touch such a precious treasure. 

He knows you will argue this, he knows your stupidly selfless self will fight to apologize; which is why before you can say a word, he’s marching hastily out of those same doors and towards the luxurious guest chambers. 

Truthfully, Gojo Satoru didn’t give a fuck about Naoya Zenin - but he’ll be damned if you, his beloved, was cast in a hameful light because of his childish actions. 

He has to do something for you, while he still can. While he still has you. While he can still love you.

The corridors are winding, decadent. He takes a deep breath when nearing the slightly-open gilded door of the Zenin suite, that distinctly nasally tone of Naoya drifting in conversation from within. Shuddering in a deep breath, “Pardon m-”

“-drew me as a weasel!” The prince bursts, fury seeping into every hard syllable of his. Gojo stills where he stands outside, hand on the cool metallic doorknob. “I have never met such a vulgar, unrefined-”

“Oh, do bear it until the engagement Naoya.” The gruff voice of a man responds - and he recognizes it from all the recent chiding at palace staff to be the prince’s cousin, Jinichi Zenin. “After that ya can take your time breaking ‘er in.”

What? 

“A boor telling me to break in a wench.” The younger man scoffs, though he sounds much calmer than just moments before. 

Gojo thinks he could throw up all over the gleaming floors, he thinks he wants to keel over and beg at the king’s feet to keep this from happening to you. He thinks he just might. 

But right now, he can’t bring his feet to move a single inch. Pressing himself up closer against the adjacent patterned wall, sharp ear yearning for more shards of the conversation. 

“They’re all the same anyways.” Says Jinichi, “Just give ‘er something sparkly or flowery and keep her sated. Don’t want another one running off before you can dig your claws into the crown, now, do we?”

And perhaps he’s a hopeless fool for praying that Naoya might say something - anything - else. Wishing for the non-existent good in your soon-to-be fiancé, who only grits out a displeased, “Fine. Only because I want to see her pretty lil’ face when I break her to my will.” There’s the sound of urgent footsteps, “But if father doesn’t give me the throne for my efforts then I’m killing her and you, you brute.”

Stood stock still.

Gojo doesn’t think he could move even if he wanted to - and right now, ice-cold spikes of anger were the only thing latching him rooted to the spot, not even flinching once Naoya closes the door behind him and walks- seeing him. 

His jaw clenches, eyes harrowing. “You.” 

And Naoya had very clearly taken the opportunity to arm himself in his family chamber, because his spindly fingers itch towards the hilt of his dangerously glinting sword. Just seconds away from-

“Please.” 

Gojo drops onto one knee, the tendons of his neck aching with how far downwards he had it bent into a pitiful bow. “I ask his highness to please let the princess go- to call off this impending engagement. I- I will bear the brunt of committing an offense, and will gladly take any punishment that is bestowed upon me. I just please beg of you to-”

“The same hand.”

“What?” Gojo forces himself to look up with tear-filled eyes, to face the prince squarely in his chestnut gaze. His delighted chestnut gaze. 

Pointing towards his right hand, “The same hand you were to raise your sword at me, the same hand you used to put that wretched toxic flower crown on me-” And then his blade, “-I order you to repent.”

The other man breathes, “Repent…”

“Repent.” Naoya stands up taller, perhaps the most self-confident that Gojo has ever seen him. A barbarous curl of his lips starting to form, “Repent, and I shall consider ending my engagement with the princ-”

CRUNCH!

Pain. Blinding pain was all that Gojo could feel, and…relief. 

He couldn’t even register the steady trickle of warm crimson on his skin and onto the floor in rose-like splotches - even though he could see it through bleary eyes. Head still spinning to catch up with the nanosecond events of drawing his sword and slicing a wide gash down his forearm. 

Through half-lidded eyes, he puts back his bloodied blade into the scabbard and looks up at the stricken prince. 

Repentance. 

“So you love her.” Is all that Naoya hisses. And Gojo can’t lie, nor can he muddy your name. 

So he simply waits quietly, silence speaking enough for eons. Waiting for you to be set free. And if he tried, he could even manage a smile-

Sniffing insolently - though, it sounded more like a snicker. “How valiant, for a low-born.” All that is said before he spits furiously at Gojo’s feet and breezes past in a swish of capes - as if nothing ever happened. “I might even invite you to the princess and I’s wedding ceremony.”

.

.

.

In a palace of thousands, it was only Gojo Satoru that could manage to stand out. 

None of the royal jesters could make the court laugh quite as loud. None of the other knights - no matter how muscled, or chivalrous - could make the ladies-in-waiting swoon just as much. And none of the other reputable men could make you seek him out in every chamber, state room, or training ground just like this.  

It was strange not to see even the barest glimpse of Gojo for an entire day, and the palace didn’t quite feel like a home without him.

“I’m telling you, Nobara–” You’re wheezing out in condensed puffs as your eager right-hand attendant continues mercilessly tightening away the undergarments of your ballgown. “Something’s probably happened to him or-”

“-or he’s being locked up for offending some uppity duke.” She’s rolling her honeypool eyes, one of the few who wasn’t afraid to express themselves this way in front of you. Flitting about the opulent dressing room you rarely liked to use, “You know how that eugh- Gojo is.”

“Which is precisely why I’m worried.”

Honestly, you didn’t even care for a grand ball when you didn’t know where your best friend was. Whether he was in the dungeons or…worse. 

But Nobara wasn’t here to hear you ramble about Gojo Satoru - you oftentimes got the impression that he irritated her too much for her own liking - she was here to doll you up in costly pale blue silks and muslins that draped off of you prettier than a painting. 

And you felt dizzy by the time she let you be escorted off towards the emanating music of the ballroom - with an excited goodbye and a reluctant promise to keep an eye out for Gojo. 

Hair done more intricately than you could’ve even imagined, your jewelry caught every light in the room, a bejeweled flower tiara weighing heavily on your head. Adorning your face in a crown that reminded you of the one Gojo had made you only a few days ago. 

It was almost a struggle to keep your face held high as you took the first few steps down the winding imperial staircase. To the ball. 

You have to stop yourself from tilting your head down at the thrumming masses of decadently dressed-up nobles and clinking champagne to check whether Gojo was hidden away somewhere down there. 

Manners. Posture. Eye contact. 

It was all painfully practised, and so was the tightening of your features as your own father started reading off your introduction. He never took on this task - what was happening?

“And now, for the most important guest of all-” Booming voice thundering in your ears almost as loud as your heartbeat was. The king addresses the congregation in the middle of the dancefloor, more ruler than father at this point. “-my daughter, princess of our beloved kingdom. And the queen of the next!”

Your hand stills where it had been helping you balance in your heels down the stairway- what?

Thankfully, your father carries on - or rather, not thankfully, considering what his next words are. 

“Yes, my people, this may come as a surprise to you all.” He chuckles above the deafening murmurs, and you slowly find yourself scurrying onto the raised platform your father’s throne was seated on. “But tonight is not only a simple celebration of our nation, it’s a celebration of love. Of two nations.”

There’s a beat of silence as he reaches out a withered hand to you, and you find yourself wordlessly taking it. 

“F-father, what-” you whisper, but there’s no response. Your skin bristles with goosebumps, and you’re not sure whether it’s from the summer breeze wafting from the gardens, or from the speech’s implications.

Letting yourself be pulled right into the middle of the stage,right into the spotlight - where Naoya Zenin was waiting for you. Dressed in his finest suit of white silk, adorned with layers upon layers of military accolades and velvety medals. 

The bright, blazing light of the chandelier was scorching, and your hands clench in unease. What was happening?

“That is right, my people.” The king drags your hand up to mesh in an entwinement with Naoya’s clammy ones, holding it up for the eager public to see. “After much consideration and forethought, our royal families have decided that today my daughter is the beloved princess of our nation. But tomorrow, she will be the future queen of the Zenin kingdom.”

There’s cheering - but you can’t hear any of it. In fact, the entire world could be falling upon you and you don’t think you would have noticed. 

All you can feel is the queasy churning of your stomach, and the stern whisper of Naoya’s voice against your ear. Fingers tightening around your own, bruisingly. “Dance with me before I break this pretty hand, princess.”

You’re like a ragdoll, being puppeteered in a rigid beeline onto the dance floor. 

If it wasn’t for one of Naoya’s hands bracing onto your waist, you wouldn’t even have realized that the royal orchestra had started up a gorgeous waltz. A slow, romantic melody that you might’ve otherwise loved if you weren’t trapped in the arms of a fiancé you never asked for. 

“Looking pretty out of it there, princess.” The prince sneers after a few practised motions of your dance, making your dazed eyes stray from the swooning crowd and onto his pointed features. 

And despite it all, you can’t help but feel betrayed. You thought that the two of you might have rapport at your obligation, if nothing else. “You- you didn’t even tell me. An entire engagement and you didn’t even bother to-”

���As a husband, I don’t owe my tch- wife anything.” His nose crinkles at your wandering eyes, the way your feet itched ever-closer to the surrounding people rather than the dancefloor. “Wishing it was someone else dancing with you?”

“Yes.” You’re spitting out before you can stop, trying oh-so-hard not to let your face twist into even a semblance of the fury steeped inside of you. “Anyone but a husband that I never wanted and never will want.”

“As if you deserve any bett-”

Your nails dig into one set of his fingers enough to engrave deep craters, almost enough to make him bleed. “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on Earth.” 

Naoya seems stunned for a few seconds - but, alas, just when you’re hoping that you’ve shut him up for good, you’re faced with the fact that the universe isn’t that kind to you.

“You mean you would marry the tch- low-born.” He pulls you into an incredibly rough twirl when the music crescendos, pulling you even closer. It’s all you can do to not fight his grip- “I’m not below finishing off his other hand if that’s what it takes to break you.”

“What are you even talking about?”

Each word jagged. “The knight. You love him, don’t act stupid.” 

Raising your chin in defiance, “So what?” And just as much as confusion filled you, as did panic. Because Naoya’s grip was only getting firmer, his moves much harsher. Opening his mouth to spit out- 

“Pardon me, your highnesses.” A deep bass cuts in, startled- you almost give yourself whiplash peering up into those fathomless mahogany eyes. Yaga’s thin brows furrowing into something heavily-set, “May I cut in for a dance with the princess?”

You don’t wait for an answer from Naoya - and neither does Commander Yaga. Swiftly sweeping you into his engulfing embrace as the orchestra changes into something slightly more upbeat. 

Dressed in a thick suit adorned with even more medals than Naoya - ones you knew for sure were real, unlike his. And you couldn’t help but wonder just how good Gojo would look with his own.

“So…” Yaga starts, once more couples join the floor and his words can’t be heard over the shuffling of feet by anyone other than you. His calloused hands let you lead him through a waltz much more mellow than what Naoya had with you. You always did think that the leader of your knights was a gentle giant. “Begging you to forgive my indiscretion, ma’am but ah- trouble in paradise?”

“Trouble in hell, as expected.” You’re shuddering, gaze bouncing off of any flash of sapphire blue around the room. 

The man in front of you nods gravely, “Right right. I might not be a married man, but even I know that times like these often call for a walk in the lilac garden. You know, to- ah, clear your head.”

Quirking a brow, you stare at him. “What?”

And oh, Yaga simply looked like all the gold in the world couldn’t pay him enough for this. 

“Times like these-” He’s emphasizing, boring deeply into your eyes as if to mean every syllable to strike your very core. And it does. You don’t know why, but it does. “-call for a walk in the lilac garden.”

Oh.

“Oh.” 

Yaga’s lips twitch upwards into an almost-smile, and his rumbling voice is soft for the next few words. “Go, your highness.”

So you do.

You’re realizing, with an ache of such gentle appreciation, that the commander had danced you two until you were practically teetering on the massive veranda. Open to the garden; where every prim hedge, bush, and tree was gorgeously decorated until your eyes sparkled. 

Your breath bates…a choice. Head turning back to the luxuries of a royal ball that was none-the-wiser. 

Then, with a brief hug you bully Yaga into, you run - as much as the delicate heels digging into your feet would allow. Faster. 

If this was any other time, you might’ve felt disappointed at how you weren’t even stopping to admire the beauty of the moonlight-bathed garden. But right now, your heart was only pounding to go faster and faster. 

Nothing else mattered. 

Gojo was leaning on one pillar of the same white gazebo - and he was beautiful. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he was a faerie of the night. 

Just a lone, tall silhouette that you could recognize so well; azure eyes twinkling, ivory strands of his hair shimmering with the silvery blue of the moon swimming amongst a dark sky. One he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of until he jolts his head towards the sharp snap! of a twig underneath your rapid feet.

“My…my princess.” He falls onto one knee. 

It all comes out in a whisper - as if Gojo had dreamed of this moment so many repeated times before and wasn’t sure if this was a dream, too.

“Satoru-!”

It wasn’t.

Gojo stands up to embrace you like it’d be the last time he ever would, like you were the one thing connecting him to this life and he was a dying man desperate to breathe. 

Strong arms winding around your waist, you’re pushed against one of the closed-off walls of the gazebo before you can even realize it. Arching off of the cool wooden surface and into his blistering heat. Into every ravenous, panted-out cloud of breath against your ear, “You came.”

He sounded pained. And you were sure you did just as much when you’re whimpering, “You disappeared.”

Gojo lets off a choked-up noise that could’ve been anything from affirmation to blatant shock. Half-lidded eyes boring deeply into yours, he shrugs off the jacket on his non-dominant arm to you with a low bow. 

“May I have this dance, my princess?”

You’re gasping at the sight of starchy white bandages around his other hand, fingers hesitantly falling into Gojo’s heated flesh. “S-Satoru, what happened ah-”

But he drifts you gently into a soundless dance, the distant crickets and swish! of lilac branches your only tune. 

And you never even understood just how much Gojo was a part of your life until he was moving through the exact same steps of waltzing that you’d learned growing up. The exact same once that you used to force him to sit through.

“I thought you were here because you read my letter.” Gojo mutters, lips so close now that they grazed the sensitive shell of your ear. 

You’re having trouble finding your voice, “What letter?” 

“The- the one that I left-” Just for you. His long lashes flutter open in shock, features contorted into something almost devastated. You wonder what made him feel this way. “-the one that I left in your chambers- about the- the prince, and the engagement and-”

“I got prepared for the ball in the dressing room today, I didn’t go to my room.” You’re continuing, voice small. Scared. “Satoru…you knew about the engagement?”

And Gojo’s voice told you everything you needed to know.

You feel your angry flare up hot and red, fists curling into Gojo’s delicate lapels. But that only proves to inch him even closer and make you sound much more breathless than you intended, “You knew about it and- and you didn’t even think to give me a hint that I was being carted off like a prize for some pompous asshat?”

He looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, lips still so pink in the night, wobbling. “I…I couldn’t let you be married, I just couldn’t. I would give my life if it meant you get the freedom to choose who you wanted.” Your dance had stalled, and you almost feel disappointed. “But I’m a coward, and this-” Gojo throws his hands across, voice hitching, “-sneaking around, hiding, running away is the only way I could ever-”

“You should have told me. Not just in the letter.” You’re insisting, running your hands through your hair. Suddenly, something strikes you, “That arm- it’s because of Naoya, isn’t it?”

He doesn’t even have the energy to protest, and that only spurs you on even more. “I-I could have talked to my father- maybe the council and we could have made it so that…”

“So that what?” Gojo’s voice hardens as much as it could with you, which wasn’t very much at all. His fists clench and unclench at his sides like it was taking everything in him to not just…“So that you can be the laughingstock of the kingdom when you marry a low-born knight?”

He was right. They would never accept him, no matter how much you did.

You’re rendered speechless, shivering at the way he rubs his wet eyes with the back of his hand. “Oh, I don’t want you- I need you.” And he was so beautiful like this, just centimeters away from you in the escape of the night. “I need you. I need you, I need you- I need you more than the sun above my head, and the air that I breathe, my princess. You have bewitched me, and I am yours. But you cannot be mine-”

You breathe out, “Satoru…”

“-and maybe in another life-”

“Maybe in this one.”

Soft hands rover their way onto the sides of your arms, and Gojo shakes you feebly as if to snap you out of this hypnosis and urge you to run. Eyes wide, yearning. “I have always been yours, body and soul.”

You always have wondered whether there was a method to shut Gojo Satoru up. And, right now, you think you may have found the perfect answer. 

Because his entire towering figure just melts into your touch the very second you press your lips onto Gojo’s plump ones. Soft. Velvety. 

His nostrils flare through a breathy sigh when you tilt your head mere sultry degrees to deepen the kiss. You were addicted to the honey-coated taste of him, the flat drag of his scratchy tastebuds rolling over your loosening maw. 

“Ngh- my princess…” He’s puncturing your kisses with kiss after sloppy kiss, heavy hands wrapping around your body to wrangle you flush against his hardened ones. And you could count every glissade of his washboard abs through that thin poet’s blouse, “I love you.”

You’re not sure if it’s a fragment of your imagination, or- it’s not. 

Gojo manhandles you - and himself - to sit on the opulent gazebo bench with you plopped into his manspread lap, without breaking the kiss for a split-second. Because it hurt to part from your pretty, candied lips, to let those slippery strings of saliva break in the clouded air between you two.

Even if it was to purr out—

“I love you I love you I love you-” The straight edges of his pearly white teeth sinking into your lower lip, groaning from the back of his throat. And your jittery legs shift needily on his warm, meaty thighs, “-I love you.”

“Satoru—” Just about the only thing that you can say right about now, your tone resounds in Gojo’s ears and makes him grunt. Your fingers tangle into his cushy locks, “T-touch me.”

He snickers, one hand clawing onto the crown of your sweat-dampened scalp and wrenching your face away until you’re huffing and puffing cutely for more. “Mmm, how about we use those princess-y manners of yours, hm?”

“Please-”

“Louder.”

“Please.”

“Harlot.” Gojo slides in a looong few digits past those impossibly endless skirts of yours, making your thighs dampen with treacly webs of needy slick. Letting those doughy fingerpads fringe over the covered mound of your pussy, just the very edges. “That was my f-first kiss, y’know?”

He had been hopelessly saving it for you, after all. 

Your eyes roll all the way to the back of your weighted lids as soon as he teases you, mewling. “Was mine too, so we’re even-” Your hips shift in a lazy back n’ forth on top of his heated core, “-just- just want you to touch me.”

“I dunno…” Gojo drawls - drunken. And you feel the edges of his kiss-bitten lips warp around the very tip of your plummy tongue to suck on like his favorite gummy candy, “Wanna kiss my princess just a lil’ bit more.”

Panting, “K-kiss?”

“Mhm.” 

Your eyes shutter in a heady blink, oh-so-cutely ready to crash back into a filthy, filthy French kiss once more, Gojo pulls away-

A noise of disappointment fresh on your lips and just about to spill out, before he lifts you up easily with only a single beefy hand underneath your body. Splaying you out on the sprawling wooden table right beside you, your back hits the ice-cold surface and makes you gasp into the crisp night air.

The lecherous sound of it almost as loud as the sudden clack! of Gojo’s knees collapsing down onto the floor. Your face contorts into a wince because surely it sent a stinging pain up his legs?

“M’quite used to being on my knees for you, my princess.”

But he didn’t seem to care - didn’t even seem to notice when he was much more enamored with the heavenly sight down there.

“These lips-” He smears away your lacy layers upon layers, budging up to nuzzle the soft skin of your inner thighs. And shit- the filmy glaze over his eyes told you that Gojo doesn’t even realize the way his bubblegum pink tongue lolls out over the splotchy spatters of your juices. “-were tellin’ me they feel a little…left out.”

Your mouth waters with a syrupy lamination of saliva as soon as his murked breath strikes your cunt. And the drag of his rumbling bass is so delicious – you couldn’t help but imagine just how it would feel on you.

“Just- just get it on with it-” you’re hissing, fingers latching onto a few thick locks of ivory to drudge him ever-closer. 

“Impatient.”

As if Gojo himself wasn’t impatient. 

As if he wasn’t just leaking out thick wads of drool from the parted sides of his twisted grin at just the thought of tasting you. Sliding the pointed tip of his button nose languidly up the crevice of your puffed-up slit, he breathes you in and feels his cock twitch-

“Oh, princess.” Gojo can’t move, he can’t breathe if it wasn’t around your needy cunt right now. He’s ignoring those shooting bites of pain up the sides of his arm to tug on your useless garments.

Pulling- shit, he always did fucking hate how many layers you royalty had to wear. 

Pulling and pulling until the slow trawl of your undergarments by his nimble fingers wasn’t enough, and he just had to lunge his cottony head over to plummet his pearly whites into your panties and rip—!

A proper, gaping hole where your teary pussy was- and you looked even more gorgeous down there than he could’ve imagined.

Gojo’s face was blank, eyes wide and locked right at your geysering orifice like a man starved. For eons it felt like, until you were bucking up with pure need.

You’re humming in concern, struggling up onto your elbows to stare down at him. “Sa…Toru?”

And at your pretty voice, Gojo twitches. He gasps - full-bodied, like you’d just sent a zillion volts of shock down his sloped spine just by speaking to him. And he was well and fully intent on acting on it-

“Princess…princess princess princess—” Leaking from between his lips like he couldn’t stop, he hits the cute target of your cunt instantaneously with a fat thud of spittle, one. Two. Three, until your entrance was overflooding. He’s drawling the plummy end of his spit-glossed maw across your folds, “Oh, my princess. Just look at you.”

You feel his mess drool off the side of your plumpened pussylips and smear all across your peaked clit with only a simple touch of Gojo’s round-ended thumb. 

Just down-right filthy when he crashes forward to slot the curvaceous nub of his sweltering hot tongue over the brim of your hole. Drawing all over that snug orifice with slow patterns round n’ round-

“Toru–!” It’s the only thing you know at this point. “Toru.”

“Whaaat? Jealous, my princess?” The words clang in your head- and the realization hits you at the same moment Gojo’s thickly viscous swab of spit does on your own tongue. A soft nudge at your slackened chin urging you to swallow-

And he can’t waste a second, can’t spend even a mere moment away from his favorite spot between your legs. Because now that Gojo got a taste, he wants alllll of it.

Stumbling back down in haste to plant so many uncountable smooches on your bawling pussy folds. Skimming his tastebuds just along your quivering hole.

“Shit- shiiiit–” When you’d heard court ladies giggling about this, you didn’t think it would feel this good. Or maybe that’s just because it was Gojo stuffing himself impossibly deeper between your legs. “M-more, Toru–”

Your voice was cracking just as much as his fucking sanity was. 

Trilling out into frenzied shrills when Gojo swerves his eager thumb to pry open your gluey folds even further and give your fattened clit a flick!

You swear you feel Gojo depart his jaw with a giggle when your hips are bucking up pliably off the splintered table and into the bustling hot cavern of his mouth. More. “Easy there, your royal highness-”

“D-don’t call me that–” You’re whimpering, fingers tugging on Gojo’s bangs in some form of retaliation. But, of course it backfires on you just as soon as the force makes your knight moan.

“Wasn’t calling you that.” Gojo rolls his eyes, and your heart races in anticipation when the pointed edge of his chin strikes the drowned ends of your cunt. Lathering his pretty features in all the collective beads of slick raining fountaining out of you. His summer blue eyes flick downwards - and you can’t help but follow. “Was talking to her. Isn’t that right?”

Fuck.

You were fucked. 

And you were losing your mind when Gojo drags you roughly towards the edge of the table with only an ounce of his strength. Mouth making out greedily, heels digging into the fleshy mounds of his back, you can only sob and beg for more more more-

“S’fuckin’ chattier than my girl.” He’s nodding along with every saturated squelch after squelch! resonating in his eardrums - as if it was a full-on conversation with your noisy pussy. “Let’s hope that fiancé of yours doesn’t hah- f-fucking hear.”

But Gojo was acting like he wanted him to.

“Hope the- the king doesn’t find his princess bein’ eaten out by- ngh- a knight.” Barrelling long, slender inches of his index and pointer past your tight ring of mushy muscle. 

Your head throws back when he digs into the velvety depths of your pussy with just a single quirk-

“O-oh my god, Satoru–” You’re gasping in the flowery night air, tummy aching with every pump deeper because he was just so close to where you wanted him. “More- j-just a bit more.”

And yet, he acts like he doesn’t even hear you right now. 

Cupping over one massive palm over his ear and drifting ever-closer, “Wha’s that? C-can’t hear ya, girl- ngh ya gotta be- louder.”

Louder and louder he was getting with the vulgarly fast thrust graced upon your gummy walls. The sound only makes him giggle all drunk on you, “What’s that? Here? That turn you on? Hmmm…”

And just when you’re letting your vision blur with stars- just when you think it couldn’t get any better-

“Mmmm– wan’ another taste-” 

It’s the last thing your ringing ears hear before Gojo’s lurching forwards and burying his nose into your sensitive clit to give your overstuffed entrance a leeengthy lick. Right at the very split-second the globular edges of his digits scratch at that magical spot. 

“W-woah.” Your head snaps up blearily to steal a glimpse at what had Gojo Satoru’s voice so airy n’ cracking in awe. 

Only to see him fluttering his lathered lashes, the slick-gleaming apples of his cheeks blushing. Like some maiden in love. “Got even wetter f’me, your highness.” He’s breathing out, spitting out another voluminous cobweb of drivel and watching the way it sliiides across with the ribbons of slick pouring out of you. “Ohhhh, even b-better than any candy- better than a-any dessert.”  

You yelp when one rugged and grabs a rough handful of your ass and latches his lips even sloppier against your hole. “T-Toru your arm!”

“Oh? This?” He’s glancing down at the bandages as if he’d forgotten they were ever there. “S’nothing for your- hah- personal knight. Doesn’t even hurt, I’d- I’d rather die than let a stupid injury get in the way of what I’ve been dreaming of for aaaages.”

The dual points of pleasure make your toes curl, every part of your body shaking-

Gojo was out of control now. Crazed.

High-pitched bouts of giggles escaping him, muffling around where his candy-glazed cerise lips were latched around your clit and sucking. He makes sure to hold fatal eye contact while he hollows out his scorching cheeks and drags the fleshy nub. 

 “M-making out with your pussy- your pretty, pretty pussy, my princess.” Your heartbeat echoes in rapid staccato with the vicious thud! thud! thud! of his neatly crowned fingertips pecking your g-spot. Each of his puffed-out gruffs making your tongue loosen in a please, “Making you s-so loud, making you feel so good.”

And without even realizing it, he’s rovering the papping brims of his fingers to give your clit a spank. Letting the syrupy beads slide allll the way down his tongue - letting you watch. 

“S’all me.” Gojo slurs out. “Me- me me me me–” Steady rivulets of slick bubbling from the edges of his tongue when his sinful motions get faster. Harder. “Gonna ask who m-made you feel this way n’ it’s me. Your Satoru.”

More ravenous. 

Swirling around slow probes of his sensory tips, it glazes his skin all the way down to his knobbly wrist in a thick coat of sap. Memorizing every gooey ridge and crevice inside your tight channel - shit, Gojo feels his ruddied tip spurt out a jetstream of buttery pre in his pants. 

He thinks he might just burst in his pants if you don’t finish right this second. 

But luckily - or unluckily - for him, you do. Right this very second, after being wrung dry underneath only a few more lapping slashes of his ferocious tongue, tweaking your buttony clit until you cum.

And oh, you’re so pretty when you do.

Your head throwing back with a broken moan of Toru–! It takes every ounce of trained will in his drunken body to not break off from your gooey pussy and watch the way your beautiful face twists. 

Fucked out.

“O-oh, shit–” You’re practically sobbing at this point, wrist aching with just how hard you were pushing Gojo’s readily used face into your fluttering core. Your vision blurs with sparks n’ stars, “-H-how are you so good. Unfair, unfair—”

Babbling away such nonsense with that smart mouth of yours, Gojo thinks he sees utter heaven when your hot juices flood inside his mouth in generous heaps.

Lugging down an open palm underneath his chin to greedily collect the leaking beads that sprinkly in a shiny sheen off of his chin, he finds himself moaning. “Shhh, your knight’s here. Give it t’me– use me, my princess.”

And use him you were. 

Riding out each white-hot peak of your high with slobbering grinds all across Gojo’s beautiful features. Your clit catches on the poking ridges of his mouth and nose and you squeal- “Ngh- b-better when you’re shut up like th-this, Satoru–”

Just for that, he’s spanking your goopy pussy thoroughly. 

All the way until those shots of electricity down your bowed spine are nothing more but prickly tingles, all the way until your thundering ears calm down and you can hear each damp thwack!

All the way until your high has bated and yet, Gojo is still snogging each swollen fold of your pussy like a feast. “M’sensitive–” You sniffle, and he doesn’t even seem to hear you. “Fuh-fuck, Toru, keep doing that n’ m’not gonna let you ngh fuck me.” 

That’s what finally gets his attention. 

You can feel your lips burst with a slight giggle when all it takes is a quick nanosecond for Gojo’s plumpened mouth to jerk away from your cunt with the snap! of wiry slick.

Scrambling onto unsteady feet, he’s teetering over the edge of the wood ever-so-slightly. Muscular body casting a shadow on yours, and you think he’s never looked sexier.

Fawny strands of frosty white curtaining Gojo’s half-lidded eyes, thick thighs pressing against yours shivering; and even from your position homed towards the end of the table, your eyes catch sight of such a massively outlined bulge. 

Staggering. 

One that made your hands ghost down Gojo’s tensed abs, and he’s throwing his perspiration-dampened head with a whine. 

“Need you, Satoru–” You’re managing out, strangled and messy. You’re sure you sound just as yearning as you feel. Fingers tug-tug-tugging impatiently on his gauzy clothes, “Want- you- out of these-” 

And whatever the princess wants, the princess gets. 

It’s as if on command - Gojo’s shedding his billowy shirt like it burned him. And very, very soon were his snug pants to follow, your layers, his sanity-

“Hngh- please.” He’s gruffing out, flinching just as soon as you cup his cheeks to smear away the remaining traces of slick glimmering on top of his blushing skin. Your touch was electric. Tonality painfully hoarse, “Let me fuck you- wanted it for so long. Let me fuck you please.”

Your drenched pussylips stream out a damp spot right across where you could feel his inflated vein poke between your folds. And he felt so…long. “Yes- yes, please.”

Getting the princess to say please?

He’s nodding his head shakily - Gojo could pass out, he could cu- 

Oh, just a few taps of his mushroom tip on the outer edges of your pussy and he spots something creamy topping over your mound like icing. Sweat-slicked brows furrowing, Gojo nudges in even closer to where pooling splotches of cum pours from the strawberry pink divot right in the middle of his head.

He’s cumming and he couldn’t stop. 

Couldn’t do anything but whine at the tender bolts of bliss aching all the way from his toes to his fuzzy head.

“S-Satoru did you just-”

“Shut up.” Oh, you would have his head later for this. “Shut up- shut up and just…”

N’ so he curls a hand at his bulky base and draws out a thick swab at the torrents of seed decorating your cute cunt. Making sure the milky sap formulated a glossy cap on his crownhead, before pushing rigorously in-

“F-f-fuuuuck–” he keens out, a thin line of sweat trekking down the side of his temples. And if he pushed just an inch further, Gojo could feel his hooded eyes well up with fucking tears- “Tight so tight s-sooo hot- so…”

You’re mewling, “Deeper- c-c’mon.”

He was fucking you like he didn’t even realize it - like he was enchanted by each mindless rut pulled from the carnal depths of his hips. 

Two warm hands latch on in a vice-like grip on the delicious curve of your hips, and he’s holding your body still and pushing and pushing and pushing-

“Sh-shit!” Gojo’s voice pitches up embarrassingly high at the end of his slew of swears, buttering up your insides in a muggy few ribbons of pre in response. “But s-so tight- dunno if it’ll even…even fit.”

He sounded hypnotized. 

“Are you- ngh! are you alright, Satoru?” You’re musing out, eyes glassy with a solid combination of lust and utter concern. Before you know it, your hand is reaching out to stroke the ba-dump–! thudding against his pecs.

“No.”

And it takes only the slightest graze of your doughy fingerpads against his flaming hot skin, the slightest touch from you before Gojo rudely swats your hand away and bottoms out-

You don’t even know what you were mad at- were you mad?

You really can’t even remember. Not when the crowned tip of Gojo’s incredible length was planting a sweet peck right into the sponged ends of your cervix, the entirety of his shaft spearheading you so deep that you think he might just be fucking into your lungs. 

So big that he didn’t even have to try to rub the puffy zig-zag of his veins along your sweetest spots, even the most minute gyrations made your toes curl. 

Splitting you apart. Stroking the weepy base of your slit with the hot, rounded sack of his breeder balls so right that it made you putty in his hands.

“Don’t t-touch me, my princess.” Gojo’s nuzzling his tear-stuck cheek against your own, you could feel the warble of his unsteady confessions. “Don’t touch me or I’ll…I’ll cum.”

And when has Gojo Satoru ever lied to you? Well, the upturned jolt of his split-ended tip right into the target of your mushy cervix told you that he wasn’t.

Gojo’s sinking down the edges of his teeth into his wobbly lower lip, he’s forcing his eyes to narrow down n’ obscure his crystal clear image of you to stop himself from cumming. 

“So beautiful, can’t help it–” His breath hitches once he’s pushing apart your trembly thighs and stretching them over the two ends of his broad shoulders. Your ankles pitching down onto the rippling plush of his toned deltoids. “So perfect.”

“S-sweet-talker.” You whisper, mouth as dry as the Sahara with how his thick circumference was stretching out your rubbery walls until they were seering. 

But if Gojo heard then he didn’t snap back - he was too pussydrunken to.

Moving on instinct, on that carnal twinge inside his brain that forced his powerful limbs to lock your ankles with one hand behind his head. To brace an engulfing palm right beside your head and lower himself down, down, down into a-

A mating press. 

Gojo Satoru had you in a fucking mating press.

“So mine.”

And he was pounding all his aching inches into you like it would be the last time. Like he was mazing through your adhesive-like walls and plummeting the leaky end of his cock to knock against your very womb. 

Gojo’s nose crinkles at the sheer warmth you were coating him in, dripping fresh slathers of slick in rings ‘round his hilt. He shivers as it drools down his tight balls, “I’m…I’m really fucking you- ngh! I’m fucking you, my princess.”

“Yes- yes yes yes—” Your mouth parts ajar, and you don’t know what it floods more with - your pathetic whines, or saliva. Coating a treacly river from each curl of your lips, “More. More, Toru.”

Oh.

You might have just broken him with that. 

Even through your fucked-out stupor, you’re gaping at the way that the hand beside your head curls into an unyielding fist. It has to.

Otherwise, Gojo’s plump cockhead would be sugarcoating your sloppy hole in much more than just copious amounts of sticky precum. He would’ve cum.

“M-more?” You hear from above you, your knight’s bulging pecs vibrating with the plea. Oh, was it a plea - strained, shaking. Gojo sounded as if he was two seconds away from simply bursting into crazed laughter, “More…more. My princess wants- fuck! More?”

Fat ends of his fingers lock around the sides of your cheeks and force you into such an unladylike pout. “Say it- say it, little royal.”

“Shit!” Your core arches up into his hardened one, just as Gojo knew it would when angling his hips juuust right to give your bulging g-spot a long, hard swipe. Your throbbing clit scratching against his pale happy trail. “Yes- ngh yes I want more. Want more, Satoru!”

More. 

And more was exactly what you were going to get. More than you could handle.

Your thighs ache with the struggle to stay open when Gojo tightens his lock around your ankles. Gruffing out a tight, “Take it then.”

He was so sexy, the swelling flex of his biceps enough to make your pussy drool and him slip n’ slide pliantly. Jackhammering away rugged pumps that you feel all the way in your leaden throat.

Your most favorite spots are so bruised that they’re almost tender, curling the base of your spine with tendrils of bliss that make you yelp.

“O-ohhh my god—” The side of his neck dampens as you’re leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses that make the man pinning you down shiver. His sculpted abs twinging with every massage down your front, “Just like that, a-always wanted to fuck you, Toru–”

“Do you even hear yourself?” Gojo hiccups, the expression upon his features plain pained. Voice dipping into a whine, “Don’t know what y-you’re doing t’me.”

But now that you were babbling away, you couldn’t stop. Not even when he’s speeding up his vigorous cadence until the globes of your ass are left stinging, “M’serious– I always wanted-”

“Shut up shut up- shut up- my princess.” You don’t think that either of you were even lucid at this point, and every pap! of skin-on-skin is followed by the screeching creak of the table below you. Gojo rolls his eyes down at you fondly, “Gotta m-make you cum so you can shut up.”

Otherwise you were going to drive him wild until there’s no turning back.

Before you can let off a moan - or fervently agree - he thumbs over the perked hood of your clit. Drawing- circles? Hearts? No, his own name. 

A tedious little S-A-T-O-R-U that makes your gushing walls clench oh-so-tightly around his sweltering length. Tummy tightening into something so close to shattering. 

And Gojo was rough. Snickering at the way you whine, spilling out wadded volumes of spittle between your parted lips. He breathes, “Gonna make you cum- g-gonna make my princess cum.” You swear he nods down at your pussy and grins, “G-gotta be a good girl f’me, m’kay? Gonna be a good- girl- and…”

His hips slap sloppily against yours, overworked thumb stuttering on a swooping U over your sensitive nub. And the tension in the air pulls tight, tight, tight like the most delicate of strings, before crashing- “-cum.”

You don’t know who cums first - you or Gojo. 

All you know is that as soon as your mind explodes with bursts of bliss - his poor cock does, as well. 

Head toppling backwards, overfilled pussy slopping out waterfalls of sweet, sweet juices, it’s all you can do not to sob. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck fuck-” Your nails rake red, red lines all down his expansive back. Pulling him in even closer until all he can manage are dirty lil’ half-thrusts to pound you through your high. “M’cumming, Toru-”

“Y-yeah?” Gojo’s stuttering wetly, sloppily. Pushing the fat battering of his fountaining orifice into the groove of your g-spot over n’ over n’ over. You didn’t know how anything could feel so good. “N’ who made you cum, hm? Who’s f-fucking this pretty pussy, hm?”

“You-” You’re prattling, “You, Satoru.”

“Fuck.” Gojo gapes in wide-eyed craze, breath hitching when you lean over to drag your tongue over the sappy trickle of drool escaping his rose-red lips. “G-gonna make me cum again, swear-”

And he does.

“Can- can we hold hands while I hck! fuck you through your high, my princess?” He bats his lashes, a delicate blush taking over the tips of Gojo’s ears when you lace your fingers together. 

You can feel the splat! of even more heavy seed hitting the bottom of your pussy, swashing a warm second coating to your elastic walls every time Gojo thrusts. He was so solidly inside. Pinpointing specks of pure white with each swab. 

So full. So much of his voluminous ounces that it’s taken to tipping over from between your pussylips and forming a creamy puddle below you. You’re slipping all over it with every slither of Gojo’s cock.

But neither of you can even think to bring yourselves to be disgusted. To care for etiquette. 

Because Gojo drifts his hand over an invisible line where your tummy was being bloated with his length and his cum- and you find yourself aching for more all over again. 

“This looks…” Gojo starts, syllables scratchy and jagged. He’s practically whimpering - whimpering - at the sight of that lecherous cylindrical bulge being fucked into you. 

You’re dripping with him, and his cock twitches ferally at the thought of you all round and glowing. What a pretty mama you’d make. “...looks like the n-next heir to the throne will be a Gojo, my princess.”

Oh, you liked the thought of that.

And looking at Gojo Satoru now - eyes still not fully focused with how ruined he was, skin blushed the same maidenly shade of red that his slobbering mushroom tip was, pretty smile directed at you and only you in this lilac-scented haze - you didn’t think you wanted it any other way.

But, of course, Gojo would never want it any other way, either. Never. 

He clears his throat, sapphire gaze hardening; the intensity of it sending chills sprinting down your spine. Burning with a fervent I love you I love you I love you.

Massive hands intertwined with yours pull into your line of vision, and Gojo takes his dear time pressing a lingering peck onto each n’ every single one of your knuckles. But particularly on the one above your left ring finger.

This was it. 

“My princess…run away with me?”

.

.

.

“Didya hear ‘bout that Prince Naoya?”

“Oh yes- had his bride stolen away by a knight, I hear. Put a knife to his throat n’ took her away in the dead of night!”

“Hogwash! The boy was a looker, she went quite willingly, see- I always did think that Naoya wasn’t good ‘nough for our princess.”

“Wonder what happened after? That Zenin bunch was quite furious I hear, that bratty prince is still out for blood. But ol’ Naobito and some commander came to the rescue- Somethin’ about corruption and Jinichi…”

“Bah! Who cares about that? S’the biggest royal affair of the century- a handsome knight sweeping away the beloved princess? They’re swoonin’ n’ calling him the Knight of Roses already. All I wanna know is how the young couple is doing!”

Yaga rolls his eyes at other rambunctious customers churning gossip-mill, a pint clutched tightly in one hand and a scrap of paper in the other. 

Honestly, he comes to the pub for once to escape from palace duties - and the palace duties seem to want to escape with him! 

And even after so many months since that engagement party fiasco? News really did trickle down slowly when royal scandals were so often covered.

Oh, whatever. He muses, thumb gliding over the glossy parchment- some new innovation from kingdoms beyond the sea, according to what the eagerly-accompanied writing had said. A…a photograph, you had called it.

And Gojo’s surprisingly intricate drawing of you fiddling with the ah- camera gave him an idea of the machinery, though- most of the sketches were of you. All of them, actually.

Yaga gazes on in slight wonderment at the perfect black and white depiction of your smile, rivalling the one of Gojo Satoru’s beside yours. Beaming, sleeves rolled up and fatigued with a day of hard work, so in love. 

It was oh-so-positively sweet.

The cherry on top? Well, Yaga couldn’t quite decide between the matching bands glinting on each of your left ring-fingers, the glimpse of a pretty lil’ cottage behind you two, and the massive bouquet of undoubtedly deep red roses Gojo was presenting you with.

Or perhaps it was the hand you were resting absent-mindedly on the obviously rounded curve of your tummy.

How fortunate, he tucks away the photograph into his coat with a smile and orders another pint. Knight of Roses, indeed. 

A/N. Yearning is my kink mhm. Hope you have a lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[luveline]

omg post prison Spencer and concussed!shy girl….I would go feral I fear

“I’m gonna be sick again,” you whine, covering your eyes with both of your hands. The nausea roils and the pain in your head reaches a new crescendo. You moan without thinking about it, worse when someone grabs a hold of you from behind. 

“Don’t bend!” he says, not shouting but not happy with you either. “You aren’t going to be sick again if you stay sat up. I know it hurts, but you’re making it worse.” 

Spencer’s strict voice isn’t one you’re used to. An embarrassed flush rushes over you, quick to cry ‘cos you’ve wanted to for hours. 

“Sorry,” you mumble tearily, slouching back into your seat with a wince. 

“Oh, angel, please don’t cry again.” 

“I’m not.”

“I’m not angry with you, I just need you to listen, because being sick like this isn’t good for you, and you’re gonna feel sick again if you bend over. It’s your head, angel. It’s the inertia.” 

You shuffle across the couch to flop against his chest. It’s a desperate move; if he doesn’t hug you, you’re going to start crying for sure, so you’re begging him to hold you without having the courage to say it out loud. “Sorry,” you say. 

“It’s okay.” Hands wrap around you immediately. “Don’t be sorry. Just stay like this for a bit, until the nausea stops. Please.” 

You’d love to stay there. You can smell the black coconut soap he uses on his skin, rubbing your nose into his neck and taking obvious breaths. 

Spencer pats your back, saying, “Good, take a breather.” He sounds surprised, but when you glance up at him he isn’t panicking or moving. He’s closed his eyes. His hand is on the small of your back.  

You hit your head so hard the very first thing that happened was the wave of vomiting. It just… didn’t end. And for a while all you could think about was nothing, just being sick and crying and a hand on your back, eventually traded for colder ones, bright white lights and strangers asking how you were feeling. You couldn’t not defer to Spencer, not really sure if he was Spencer in a permanent sense but aware intrinsically that he was to be trusted to answer for you. 

Your brain is shaken, then stirred. 

“If I give you a pill, do you think you can keep it down? It’s okay if you can’t. Honest answer,” Spencer murmurs. 

“I don’t know.” 

“An anti nausea pill you need to swallow isn’t exactly mankind’s best invention.” He cradles the nape of your neck, then, sounding more on your side than anyone ever has. “I wish I could fix it.” 

“You should’ve put your brain to work for science,” you say agreeably, “you can fix anything. Big pharma are lucky you chose to catch the bad guys instead.” 

“I meant your concussion.” You can barely hear him, and at the same time, it’s like he’s speaking into your marrow. 

“You did fix that,” you say, tipping your head back to see him. “You took me to the doctor.” 

He smiles. “Yeah, I did, but you’re still sick and hurting.” 

It’s not that bad in Spencer’s arms. You had dreams like this, daydreams and sleeping, where he’d wrap you up and comfort you after some hurt, but you’re struggling to remember what made it feel as painful as it did at the time. Spencer felt far away. Now he’s right here. You curl your arm behind his neck to be squished together, tight tight tight. Spencer actually groans. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“No, m’not in pain. I can’t remember the last time I got to hold you like this for so long.” 

“I don’t know why.” 

“I do, and it’s okay. I know why you get freaked out. I’ll never rush you. I don’t mind. But I feel guilty ‘cos I’m enjoying this and you’re in pain.”

It’s a dull throb in the skull. You can barely feel it. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. 

“I’m confused.” 

“That’s a common theme tonight.” 

“You feel guilty ‘cos I’m hugging you?” 

He covers your eyes with his hand. You laugh at first, but it’s oddly nice. Warm, dark. The throbbing pain ebbs a bit. 

Spencer can feel you relaxing against him. He’s all warmth and smell and sound under your ear. Exhaling, humming, the sound imbued with a fondness you don’t understand. His chest is solid under you, his hair begging to be touched where it flirts with his shoulders, the slopes and lines of him a tactile wonderland for your greedy hands: you want to feel everything. You haven’t the faintest clue as to why you weren’t allowing yourself the privilege before. 

“I just need you to get better fast,” he says, breathless. “That’s all.” 

“I am trying my best.” 

Spencer rubs a thumb over one of your eyebrows, start to end. “And you’re so, so good at it,” he says. 

You aren’t concussed enough to miss the lightly mocking coo of it. But you don’t care. Your nose drags up the line of his neck clumsily, in what you hope says tease me more, but more likely says concussive brain injury, second degree. 

[moonstruckme]

Hi! So I have the issue where I’m not able to turn my brain off I guess and I’m having to constantly be aware of everything happening around me and managing everyone because if I don’t do it no one will. It’s so tiring to never have a minute to not be a very aware of every little thing. That being said, could I request a Remus or poly!marauders where reader is able to not be in constant manage mode? I know that’s really weird and if it’s too much just ignore this. Thank you for everything you do on here ❤️

Not weird! Very relatable actually haha. Thank you for requesting angel <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 823 words

“I like my system,” James says as you kneel in front of his suitcase, folding shirts. “My pants go on that side, then shirts in one corner and the rest in the other.” 

“I don’t think it counts as a system if you’re just piling stuff in, Jamie.” 

“How do you figure?” 

“Well, doesn’t it bother you that they’re all wrinkled?” You frown, taking out a balled-up pair of trousers. It bothers you, and they’re not even your clothes. 

“Not really, no. It’s a holiday, lovie, who am I trying to impress?” 

“Um, me?” Sirius shoots a look across the bedroom. He’s busy stuffing things into his own suitcase on the other side of the bed. 

“Oh, always,” James says gamely. “But you love me whether my shirts are wrinkled or not, don’t you?” 

Sirius makes a wishy-washy noise that sees James tossing a pair of socks at his head. He dodges and they bounce to the floor. 

“Did you remember your glasses cleaner?” you ask James, feeling about the pockets of his suitcase. 

“All under control, angel. It’s in my backpack.” 

“Perfect.” You finish neatly folding the last of his things and stand to kiss him. “Thanks.” 

“Thank you. Though you didn’t have to fold my underwear, I could have managed that myself.” 

“It was no problem.” You round the bed to where Sirius is packing, peering down at his suitcase. 

He looks up with a raised brow. “Can I help you?” 

“Are you packing your conditioner?” 

Sirius’ other brow comes up to join the first. “Yes, I am. Do you have a problem with my hair smelling lovely?” 

“No.” You smile, rolling your eyes when he pinches the back of your thigh playfully. “Just remember that it has to be under a hundred milliliters if you’re not checking your bag.” 

“I’ve got it, doll. You worry about your milliliters, and I’ll worry about mine, m’kay?” 

You hum. “And, um…” 

“What?” Sirius’ tone is dry, but it’s all fondness in the tilt of his mouth as he looks up at you. “You gonna fold my underwear, too?” 

“No, just, have you eaten? I don’t know if we’ll have time to eat at the airport.” 

“I think Remus wants you, sweetness.” 

“Hm?” 

Sirius points with his chin, and you turn to find Remus watching you from the doorway to the bedroom. He looks a particular brand of appealing in his travel clothes. The trackies James got him for Christmas probably shouldn’t go so well with his overlarge jumper, but Remus being Remus, of course it works. He beckons you toward him. 

“Oh, okay.” You glance back at Sirius one more time as you go. “Don’t forget to take your lighter out of your bag, security will take it away.” 

“Love you too!” 

“Hi,” you say to Remus, who wordlessly folds you into a hug as soon as you leave the bedroom. “Everything okay?” 

He hums. “Everything’s great, yeah. Are you excited to go?” 

You’re bemused but pleased by his hand running up and down your spine, his freshly shaven jaw pressed to your temple. “I am, yeah.” 

“Mm. Relaxed?” 

“I’m…yeah, sure.” 

Remus chuckles softly. “You seem a bit strung up, lovely. Are you all packed?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Good. Me too. Anything else you need to do before we go? Have you eaten?” 

“I ate, yeah.” You glance back towards the bedroom, the movement almost involuntary. “I think I just need to make sure—” 

“You’re all ready then?” 

It’s not like Remus to cut you off, but when you turn back around his expression is all fond patience. 

“I think so,” you say. “At least, my stuff is all done.” 

“Perfect.” He kisses your head, then takes your hand, leading you away from your boyfriends. “Let’s relax for a bit while they finish up, then, yeah?”

You let Remus guide you to the couch. At first sitting, then curling up against his side, your head resting over the steady beat of his heart. His hand runs up and down your arm, and slowly the tension seeps out of you. 

“Sorry,” you say after a while. “Was I being annoying?” 

“No,” Remus reassures you. “Of course not. You’re only helping. You just don’t have to, you know?” 

You cringe at yourself. At the clarity of hindsight. “Nobody asked for my help.” 

“We’re adults,” he agrees. “We don’t need to be managed—or we shouldn’t. If Sirius packs too much conditioner, he can sort it out himself.” 

“Right. Sorry.” 

Remus tuts, kissing the top of your head. “Please don’t be sorry. We all just want you to be able to relax. Give yourself a break, yeah?” 

“Yeah, okay.” You snuggle closer to him, letting the last of the tension sap from your body. “That doesn’t sound so awful.” 

“I’m glad.” The smile is audible in Remus’ voice. He rubs your arm again, encouraging you to relax further. 

“But what if James doesn’t know—” 

“Dove. He’ll figure it out.” 

[empressofthewind]

Rating Death Note characters by how much I'd trust them to watch my drink at a bar

(Saw someone do this with Teen Wolf and loved the concept. Here is the original)

Light: 10/10. If we're talking Normal!Light, I think he'd be very trustworthy on this front. Taking Kira!Light into account might change things, but I don't think drink spiking is even a consideration in that scenario; if he wants me dead, I won't be making it back in time to finish the drink anyway.

L: 0/10. I adore him but he does not care enough about anyone to bother doing this for them. I'd come back and he'd be like "yes I watched your drink" while it's sitting 20 feet away from him and he's staring soulfully into a coffee cup. May even spike it himself just to study me under the effects of a drug.

Misa: 5/10. Depends on the circumstances. If Light didn't like me (or, in her eyes, liked me a little TOO much) she is absolutely not looking out for me. Otherwise I feel like she'd happily do it but may get distracted.

Mello: 7/10. I think he'd do it provided that I could offer him something in return.

Near: 3/10. Listen. I DO trust him. I just don't trust that his presence is enough of an incentive for someone not to spike the drink.

Mikami: 11/10. If he sets his mind to something, by God he will do it. He is guarding that shit with his life.

Takada: 7/10. She's not really a girl's girl but I'd trust her if she had reason to look out for me.

Sayu: 9/10. I couldn't rate her a 10 since she's a child for half the series, but older Sayu has for sure got my back. Would buy me another one if anything happened to it.

Soichiro: 8/10. Generally speaking, I'd say he's the most trustworthy on this list. Loses points because he may try to talk me out of drinking in the first place.

Matsuda: 6/10. Would very enthusiastically volunteer to do it but would be so anxious about it, I'd feel like a burden on him. He is not enjoying himself at the bar as long as he has this task to worry about.

Task Force: 10/10. I think any of the other Task Force members would be super reliable. Mogi would be one of my top picks out of anyone on this list; no one is coming within a 10-mile radius of my drink on his watch.

SPK: 10/10. Similarly, I think all the SPK's surviving members would be very trustworthy. If Ill Ratt is in the mix, the rating drops to -15.

Watari: 9/10. The guy kind of sucks, but I think he'd do it. Loses points anyway for doing fucked-up experiments on children.

Naomi: 100/10. Spaced out thinking about her and forgot what I was supposed to be rating her on.

Matt: 0/10. That man is watching his Gameboy, not my drink.

Rem: 10/10. Fiercely loyal, and has no reason not to look out for me. May even kill anyone who tries.

Ryuk: 0/10. Absolutely not. He would let someone spike it just to see what happens.

Higuchi: -1000/10. He is the one spiking it.

[clawsdevour]

*ྀི ˖ ࣪ geto bf hcs

content warning: fluff, slight smut, boyfriend getooooo :3 , not proofread

⠀͙ࣳ #𓂃⠀:

-Geto, the type of boyfriend to be secretly into physical touch even if it's very little like being knee to knee. in public, he'd definitely limit how much physical contact your bodies come in, for instance, holding hands. alone, he would be such a hugger, specifically from the back where you're vulnerable. geto would swoop in out of nowhere and keep your back close to his warm embrace.

-Geto, the type of boyfriend to love to listen to your pretty voice ramble on. his slender eyes love to linger on your lips and move with haste and happiness when you're talking about something you care about and love. his ears are always listening, picking up all the little things you mention too. btw if you're like sitting leaning against his chest or something, he'd let you play with his hair and he'd love it.

-Geto, the type of boyfriend to be hella observant. just like before, he'd pick up on all your little habits even you wouldn't know. if you're standing in front of a cabinet he needs to get something out of, he'd put his palm on the edge every time just in case it'd accidentally hit you.

-Geto, the type of boyfriend to have IMMACULATE hand placement i repeat. yes he may not seem touchy in public. but when he is, he knows where to place his hands to get you spiraling a bit to where you feel like you're under his spell. he knows your weak spots and definitely likes to watch you resist despite completely acting under his palms.

-Geto, the type of boyfriend to share everything with you. he'd act like everything that's his is also yours, even if you don't act the same lol. for instance, sharing a perfume, he'd find it comforting knowing that you used or have his scent lingering on you. geto would for sure also for sure give you his drink if yours tastes like ass lmao.

-Geto, the type of boyfriend to love lazy and slow days with you. it's not just the fact you're doing nothing, but the fact it means that he's spending quality time with you away from work, friends, and family. just a good twenty-four hours with the one he loves and wants to be with the most, especially since you're running through his mind all the time, it's good to just rest together.

-Geto, the type of boyfriend to show up at your parents' doorstep with a bouquet of fresh flowers upon first impression. obviously first impression, he only has one chance to make a good one, espeically to win over your parents since he sees a future with you in it. he's proper and doesn't try anything foolish with you because he's meeting people of your own blood!

-Geto, the type of boyfriend to make you absolutely beg. his cock just rubs along your walls perfectly as you mold to his veins and girth. geto would always start off with the slowest, treacherous, but deep and striking strokes. his hair falls down and off his shoulders, caging you into his darkest while his husky voice whispers and praises you for taking his size.

-Geto, the type of boyfriend to for sure love blowing you out from the back. something about holding your wrists down onto your back or onto the sheets while he watches and squints closely as your tight holes quench and squelch with the two essences that mix together to ease into the friction of his thrusts.

-Geto, the type of boyfriend to carry you over in the bath to rinse you off before getting a real bath ready and hopping in. he loves when you're just sitting in the warm tub, your back on his chest while he's giving you the whole spa experience like washing your hair or scrubbing your back. perchance... there's some light funny business since he can't get enough of your nude body as the water and soap suds just barely manage to censor anything.

masterlist here

[shuadotcom]

Strawberry Sunday (YJH & KMG)

->Summary: When your best friend is away, you and Jeonghan always find time to play. This time he invites his friend to play along and things get a little messy - in the literal sense.

->Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan & Kim Mingyu x Fem!Reader ->Genres/Tropes/AUs: Smut, best friend’s brother, fuckbuddies (is this a trope???) non!idol au, pwp ->Rating: 18+ MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI! YOU WILL BE BLOCKED ->Words: 8.4k | ->Warnings/Content: profanity, threesome, dirty talk, oral (m & f receiving), handjob, unprotected sex, fingering, food play, nipple/boob play, begging, praise, teasing, cum play/body painting, biting/marking, pet names (sweetheart, baby, good girl, babydoll) and I think that's it 😮‍💨 ->Note: Written for the secret cupid event hosted by @ddeonghwa-s! Hiiiii @gyuhanniescarat, it's meeee I'm your cupid!! 🩷 Please enjoy this fresh freak nasty filth I’ve whipped up for you!! 👩🏽‍🍳💋 (and tbh for myslf too bc as a ShuaHannieGyu girly I very much enjoyed creating this hehe)

Thank you 37432987414 billion times to @shadowkoo for the perfect banner!!!! I'm still so obsessed with it! And thank you to my love @soongyeopsal for always being my favorite beta 🥰

The weekend. Easygoing Saturdays and lazy Sundays: the perfect way to end a stressful, fast-paced week.

You're halfway through your weekend and feeling wonderfully relaxed. On Saturday, you did some light cleaning that you were behind on and leisurely, at your own pace, ran a few errands, but most of the day was spent in your apartment, curled up on the couch with a book in hand.

Sundays are for sleeping in and when you do finally wake up, you take a long shower, complete with your favorite candles and a lo-fi mix as you scrub and relax under the warm spray. Once you’re in your comfiest lounge clothes and have taken the time to whip up a yummy brunch, you settle in on your couch, remote in hand. There are a number of dramas that are overdue for your attention, so you decide to pick one at random and get lost in it.

And you do manage to get lost in your show, cozy blanket, and your couch. Your brunch has been eaten and your eyes start to droop shut as you feel a midday nap coming on.

This is interrupted when you hear the chime of your phone from somewhere in your blanket cocoon.When you manage to fish it out, you see an incoming call from your best friend.

“Hey, Soo, what’s up?”

“Y/n! Please lend me your baking skills!” She sounds desperate and it makes you nervous.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Sooyoung sighs heavily over the line, the sound of the phone shifting is almost too loud and you have to ​​pull yours away from your ear a little bit.

“Are you busy? Can you come over? I’m trying to make cupcakes for Hyoseob for Valentine’s day, you know, but I fucked up the recipe because you know baking isn’t really my thing and now I’m panicking and don’t know if I’ll get them done by tomorrow and could really use someone who knows what the hell they’re doing in here, please?”

A small laugh leaves you at your best friend’s frazzled speech and you can hear the pout in her voice.You glance around you, taking in one more view of your lazy Sunday setup, before turning off the TV.

“Of course, I’ll get dressed and come over.”

“Oh my gosh, thank you so much, Y/n! I love you so much, thank you, thank you!!”

“Love you too. See you in a few.”

Once you hang up you sigh. You do enjoy baking and you always love spending time with Sooyoung so helping her won’t hurt. It’s not really the plan you had for today, but it could be worse, so you won’t complain. Not too much at least.

At least the drive to Sooyoung’s isn’t long and there wasn’t much traffic on the road which you’re grateful for. You get to the small house she shares with her brother and it only takes one knock to have her swinging the door open.

“Thank god, come in!” She grabs your arm, giving you enough time to at least take off your shoes, and parades you into the kitchen. As you pass the hallway, you can hear voices and the sound of a TV in the distance.

“Is Jeonghan here?” you ask, trying to sound casual. You do a great job at not making any indication that you’re actually hopeful that her older brother is here.

Yoon Jeonghan is the prettiest man you’ve ever had the pleasure of being around. And as of two months ago, he’s also the prettiest man who you’ve been lucky enough to have pleasured you.

It wasn’t on purpose, you always remind yourself. You just so happened to be over, drinking with Sooyoung and her brother as you all hung out on a Saturday night. Sooyoung drank a little too much and passed out. You and Jeonghan did your best to take her to her room and tuck her in.

Honestly, after that you’re not even sure how it happened, but you ended up riding Jeonghan on his bed and he gave you what you still think was quite possibly the best orgasm you’ve ever experienced in your life.

Since then, you and he have hooked up secretly here and there when given the chance, but nothing serious has come of it. He just has a pretty dick and knows how to fuck so who are you to say no when he offers?

“Oh, yeah sorry. He and Mingyu are here, unfortunately. Mingyu stayed over last night and wouldn’t you know, neither of them helped me at all!”

“Well, Jeonghan doesn’t really belong in the kitchen,” you joke. You also hide how you nearly choke on your spit when she mentions Mingyu’s name. You don’t know him that well, but he’s around enough that you can easily remember what he looks like (gorgeous) and how he’s built (like a greek god).

“Yeah, but Mingyu does! Remember he made that cake for my birthday last year! And the food he made at our housewarming. But when I asked, Jeonghan said ‘no they’re busy’ and dragged him away. They’ve been in his room all day doing whatever it is men do.” Sooyoung scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, that’s fine because now my bestie is here and is a better baker than all of us combined!”

You smile, genuinely appreciating the compliment, but also taking in the state of the kitchen. It’s a good size with a decent amount of counter space and great natural lighting. Said counter space now, though, is covered in ingredients and bowls and even some sprinkles and sugar and flour.

“So uh, what was the plan in here?” you ask, doing a slow lap around the room and eyeing two bowls of what looks like batter and fluffy, pink icing.

“Okay, so I wanted to make a batch of strawberry and a batch of chocolate cupcakes for Hyo, but then I burnt the chocolate cakes so those are a dud, and I ran out of sugar for the strawberry cupcakes and the chocolate frosting. I’ve been at this since I woke up at like 9 and all I have to show for it is a burnt tray and this mess you can see. The only thing I think I did right was the strawberry frosting.” She gestures to the bowl closest to you. You grab a spoon from the drawer and dip into the frosting, taking a small amount.

“Mmm. This is good.”

“Thank you! But now, I have to go to the store and get the missing ingredients and then try this again which is why I called you because if I go and get what I need and screw it up again, I think I’m going to have a full meltdown and cancel Valentine’s day.” Sooyoung lets out a huff, shoulders deflating as she sniffs.

You toss the spoon in the sink and rush over to hug your friend. You push away your thirsty thoughts for her brother and his friend and focus on her.

“Hey, it’s okay, girl! I’m here now, okay? I’ll help you tidy up, we’ll go over the ingredients you have left, make a list for the store, and get a game plan going okay? I’m here to help.”

With wide, shining eyes, Sooyoung pulls back and pouts at you. “You promise?”

“Of course! I got you.”

The brunette girl smiles at you, sniffling once more and then she lets you direct her to where to start.

It doesn’t take long to tidy up and get everything ready to start baking again. You toss the unfortunate batch of burnt chocolate cupcakes and place plastic wrap over the bowl of strawberry frosting, setting it aside since it’s the only success so far.

You help Sooyoung with the list of things she needs to grab for the chocolate cupcakes plus some extra ingredients just in case. After tidying up, you find out she has just enough of everything else for you to start the batter for the strawberry cupcakes while she’s gone.

“I shouldn’t take too long! I know the store closest to us is closed on Sundays, but there’s one like twenty minutes away so I should be back when the cupcakes are at least in the oven!”

You’re making sure you have everything in front of you that you need to prepare the batter so you nod, agreeing with her and saying goodbye. Once Sooyoung is gone, your borrowed apron is tied, you play some music on your phone, humming along, lost in your own baking world.

“If I had known there’d be a cute girl in my kitchen, I would’ve come out here to help a while ago.”

Jeonghan’s voice from the doorway makes you jump. You’d just added together the wet and dry ingredients and the sudden intrusion nearly makes you jump out of your skin.

You offer a wave as he and Mingyu file into the kitchen with Jeonghan coming to stand behind you.

“Well, your sister needed help and you didn’t come to offer a hand.” You hum, feeling Jeonghan’s hand ghosting over your hips and thighs.

“Yeah, but I’d much rather help you.”

“But what if I don’t need any help?” you shoot back, glancing over your other shoulder, seeing Mingyu hovering over the bowl of strawberry frosting on the kitchen island.

“Hmm, well I don’t know about that… It looks like you might need some help here.” As he speaks, his nimble fingers trail to the front of your jeans, ghosting over your covered crotch.

“Jeonghan,” you warn, “I have to get this batter in the oven while Sooyoung is gone. She’s gonna expect them to be baking.”

Normally, Jeonghan’s silky soft voice and skilled hands has your clothes off of you in no time. You and he had fallen into an unspoken kind-of friends with benefits thing. You don’t really talk for leisure over the phone or anything, save for a few flirty texts sometimes when you post something he likes online, but most of your communication is in person when you’re with Sooyoung or with each other’s tongues in your mouths when it’s just the two of you.

Sooyoung doesn’t know that you’ve been fucking her brother for the last two months, mostly because you don’t know how to even approach the subject. Plus, it’s just casual fun that you and Jeonghan have. It’s not like you’re dating or anything.

That’s not to say you wouldn’t date Jeonghan, but that’s an entirely other conversation to be had and feelings to unearth that you’d prefer to stay buried until that’s something you have the energy to dive into. For now, casually fucking him whenever you can will suffice.

“Hey, I’m not stopping you. Keep doing what you’re doing.” His voice is low, a smirk quirking at the corners as he places feather light kisses on your neck. His hands land on your hips, lightly squeezing as he brings the front of his body flush with you.

As best as you can, you finish adding everything to the bowl, grabbing the whisk a few inches away from you and starting to combine all of the ingredients. It proves to be more difficult than you thought when Jeonghan starts nibbling at the skin at the base of your neck, pulling your sweater collar aside to get to it.

A soft, breathy sound slips out of you when he bites down, the bowl almost falling out of your hand as you tilt it to get a better angle. Luckily it doesn’t, but you do spill some of the batter on the counter.

“Oops. You better be careful not to make a mess, sweetheart.”

He’s playing so dirty by dropping a pet name, and it immediately has your stomach clenching. Jeonghan reaches over you, his finger scooping up the splattered batter. He brings it up to your lips, waiting.

He doesn’t have to wait long, your mouth opening and the digit eagerly dipping inside, landing on your tongue. You close your lips and suck, eyes slipping closed both at the taste and the gesture itself.

“Good girl,” Jeonghan whispers and it takes everything in you not to turn and fall to your knees in front of him right then.

You and Jeonghan are lost in each other, you still lightly suckling on his finger while he peppers the side of your neck with kisses again.

“Um,” a third voice clears from behind you both and your eyes shoot open, letting go of Jeonghan’s finger. You had completely forgotten that Mingyu was less than a foot away.

You straighten up, focusing on the task at hand again, whisking the sweet concoction and trying to calm your wild heartbeat.

Jeonghan turns to Mingyu with an eyebrow raised, both hands resting on your hips. “What’s up?”

Mingyu lets out a nervous chuckle, hand moving up to push back his dark locks. “I mean… Bro, I’m standing right here.”

“So?” Jeonghan challenges. “What’s a little fun amongst friends? I’m always down for fun. What about you baby, do you like to have fun?” The latter part is for you, your eyes darting over your shoulder to Jeonghan, to Mingyu, then back to Jeonghan.

Is…is he saying what you think he's saying? Is he proposing you hook up with him and Mingyu? You don’t want to say it out loud, scared you’re reading the room incorrectly. You hold Jeonghan’s gaze for a few seconds, his smile softening just a little and eyes twinkling as he blinks.

“Y-yeah. I like to have fun.”

“See!” Jeonghan immediately says, reaching out to pinch your waist. “Baby is always so nice to me and she’ll also be nice to my friend.” A shiver runs through you at his words and it takes real work and concentration to focus on making sure you don’t fling cupcake batter all over.

Jeonghan uses the beat of silence in the room and your concentration on your work as an opportunity.

Soft hands are back at your waist, rubbing and squeezing lightly before his fingers practically dance to the front of your jeans. He plays with your zipper for a few seconds before pulling the metal down and easily undoing the button.

You can’t help the way your breath catches in your throat when he slips his hand into your pants, fingers immediately finding your covered clit. A squeak comes out of you as Jeonghan applies light, casual pressure, humming in satisfaction. Your mixing is paused as you close your eyes, relishing in the slow, meticulous circles he makes.

“Make sure you concentrate, sweetheart. Didn’t you say you have to finish this by the time my sister comes back?” His tone is teasing and he chuckles at the way you flinch when he reminds you that you’re on a timer.

It takes all of your resolve, but you do hone in on the bowl in front of you, finally deeming it smooth enough to be baked.

Jeonghan’s fingers stay pressed on the outside of your underwear, but he gives you enough room to reach over to grab at the cupcake pans that have been greased and sat waiting nearby.

Mingyu is now standing closer than before, not close enough to touch, but close enough that his eyes can see where Jeonghan’s hand is.

With shaking hands, you begin pouring the batter into the cupcake slots. It’s truly a feat as his fingers are still working at you. The task suddenly becomes almost impossible when said fingers finally slip into your panties, slender digits rubbing against your already wet folds.

A yelp comes from you which makes Jeonghan coo at you. “Look at you, baby. Already wet just from some teasing.”

“I - it’s your fault,” you manage to sigh out, faux annoyance in your words which Jeonghan already knows is a front.

“Not my fault you want my fingers inside you so bad. That is what you want, isn’t it?” His lips ghost over your neck again and you feel him hover so close to your entrance, but not actually making a move to enter you.

“Fuck, you know it is, Hannie.”

Jeonghan grins ear to ear - you only bring out his nickname when he’s making you feel good.

“Wanna hear you say it, baby.” The tip of his finger is right there - all he needs to do is crook his finger and he’ll push his way into your hole.

“Hannie,” you beg, “please, please, please put your fingers in me? I need you,” The words are breathy and your hands have stopped working, gripping the half empty bowl as you await his next move.

“Since you used your manners and said please, I suppose I can. Just make sure you finish your batter,” his hair tickles your neck as he leans down to kiss your neck again and he finally slips a finger into your pussy.

“A-ahhh!” You let out a breathy moan as he finally gives you what you want, immediately pulling you closer to his chest while you pour the batter, every single inch of your brain struggling not to fuck it up.

When you finally get the cupcake pan filled, Jeonghan has slipped two fingers into your cunt, his fingers working you slowly, the sounds of your own wetness mixes with the music you still have playing on your phone in the background.

“Hannie,” you breathe out, eyes fluttering closed as he finds your g-spot, massaging it with gentle strokes.

“Yes, baby?”

“I - the oven. I need to p-put these in,” the sentence is a struggle and Jeonghan chuckles, loving the way you go almost braindead when he’s touching you.

Jeonghan slips his fingers out of you and you whimper at the loss. He finally backs away, allowing you room to open the oven. Everything is quiet save for your music and your rapid breathing.

Once the mini cakes are in, the timer is set, and oven mitts are placed aside, Jeonghan strikes.

He spins you around, letting your ass hit the counter as he cups your face and leans in to kiss you finally. Soft lips work expertly over yours, drawing little sighs out of you. Jeonghan’s an excellent kisser, in addition to an amazing lay, so kissing him always sets your body alight. His hands eventually drift from your face, one inching up to the back of your neck to wrap around the base while the other slips down and behind you to grab a handful of your ass, pulling your body flush against his. You can already feel his half-hard erection poking against you and you clench your thighs together.

You and Jeonghan make out sloppily, the kiss nothing but teeth and tongue and little noises you both make. Eventually, he pulls away, both of you panting. He turns his head and gestures for Mingyu to come closer.

You shamelessly eye the very tall and very wide man that approaches. His black long-sleeved shirt hugs his chest in a sinful way and his loose fitting pants do very little to hide his obvious arousal.

“Mingyu already knows that we sometimes like to spend time together. I figured that since we’re all here and we have a little time, you can show him just how good you can be. I think you want to anyway.” Jeonghan pulls you away from the counter and maneuvers you into Mingyu’s surprised hold.

His arms wrap around your middle, loosely hanging there but making no move to let you go. Your hands land on his chest and you can’t hold back from squeezing the firm muscle underneath. He blinks down at you, eyes boring into yours in mild shock. He effortlessly recovers from his shock of suddenly having you in his hold, a smirk replacing the ‘o’ shape his mouth had taken.

“I’d love to actually,” you whisper out finally, gulping audibly when you finally catch a whiff of Mingyu’s warm cologne. “But your sister is only going to the store for a few things so we don’t have time.”

As if forgetting that you’re only this close because of her absence, Jeonghan pauses next to you, and feels the pockets of his sweats for his phone.

“Damn, I think I left my phone in my room. What time is it?”

“Check my phone,” you jerk your head towards the counter, directing him to where your phone lays charging a few inches away. You’re still leaning against Mingyu’s firm chest as the man rubs circles into your lower back that have your knees feeling like jelly at just how warm and gentle and big his hands are.

Your eyes are staring at his lips as he looks between yours and your eyes. It’s clear you’re both wanting to do something but are waiting for an update on the timing you have.

“Well will you look at that,” Jeonghan starts as he looks at your phone. He brings it to you, showing you a notification on your lock screen from Sooyoung. The words start with ‘I fucking hate traffic…”

Reluctantly you move one hand from Mingyu’s chest to take your phone and unlock it.

Sure enough, when you get to the messages, there’s a few texts from Sooyoung, complaining about traffic and an accident that’s taking so long she hasn’t even made it halfway to the store yet.

You send a few texts back and forth and she says she isn’t sure how long it’ll take to get there and back now, but she’s not going to give up. You reply that the cupcakes are in the oven now so everything is still on track and encourage her not to let the traffic win. You remind her of her boyfriend whom she’s doing all this for and how happy he���ll be to receive handmade edible gifts from her. You think it’ll give you enough time.

You make sure your ringer is turned on and tell her to update you along her journey and she agrees. Handing your phone back to Jeonghan, you fill him and Mingyu in on Sooyoung’s current location and the status of the trip.

“So…what does she think, she’ll take more than half an hour?” Mingyu speaks up, finally uttering more than a few words.

“Probably,” you guess, both hands now back, firmly planted on the man.

“If you ask me, I think that’s enough time for some fun,” Jeonghan offers, fingers playing with the tie on the back of your apron.

“I think you’re right,” you agree. It’s all you need to say before both men start to move.

Mingyu finally leans down and captures your lips in a rough kiss. His tongue immediately darts out, licking at your lips, begging for entrance. You allow him in, his tongue plunging into your mouth to taste every part of you.

Behind you, Jeonghan manages to untie your apron as his hands move to the waistband of your jeans and easily slide them down your legs. His fingers, a little cold, trace the front of your panties before he’s yanking those down too and helping you step out of them. Your body jumps at the sensation of being exposed like this, but Mingyu moves from your lips to your neck and that’s what your attention is diverted to.

Jeonghan’s hands caress your ass, kneading and handling your cheeks slowly but roughly.

“Sorry, Gyu, but I need to see her,” he warns before pulling you away from Mingyu and turning you so you can lean your upper body on the counter.

You let out a yelp at both the sudden turn and at the fact that you’re bent over the kitchen counter, naked ass and cunt on full display for them.

“Fuck,” Mingyu hisses before you feel a hand land a surprising smack on your ass.

“Right? She’s already fucking glistening, isn’t she,” Jeonghan agrees and you can’t help the embarrassment that heats up your spine, knowing your wetness is evident and being observed. There’s a moment of shuffling before you feel soft hands on you again, pushing apart your legs more. “Can you make room for me, sweetheart? Gotta show Gyu how good you look.” Of course you oblige, opening as wide as is comfortable and resting more on the counter.

“Just like that,” Jeonghan praises before he goes in, sinking two fingers back into you, a small, but audible whoosh of air is heard from both men.

Jeonghan, having been between your legs numerous times at this point, knows exactly where to apply pressure and the angle to piston his fingers to have you a moaning mess in his hands.

“Mmph, fuck, Jeonghan!” You can’t help the yell of his name, your knees shaking as he fucks you faster with his fingers. His other hand brushes upward, over your ass and up your spine until it wraps around the back of your neck. He applies the lightest of pressure to the sides of your neck then pushes you down, making your ass poke out more to make his actions more visible to himself and Mingyu.

“Fucking hell,” Mingyu breathes from next to you. When you can manage to lift your head and turn, your drooping eyes see him, hand shoved into his pants, pumping back and forth under the fabric.

Biting your lip, you manage to gesture him over to you with the flick of your hand. Mingyu doesn’t need to be told twice as he scurries next to you, within arm’s length. It’s not the easiest position, but you manage to reach out and shove your hand into his pants. You immediately find his generous length and you wrap your hand around it, squeezing a few times before jerking him off. You worry that your pace is too slow, but the way that Mingyu’s head falls back has you rethinking that. He lets out a low groan as you work him, one hand resting on the counter and the other reaching up to grasp at his own hair.

You marvel at him, this tall, hot man that’s scrunching up his face and biting his lip because of the way your hand moves over his dick.

Wanting to redirect your attention back to him, Jeonghan picks up the pace and eases a third finger into you, his other hand finally snaking around you to press hard against your swollen clit.

“Ah-ah! J-Jeonghan, please.”

“Hmmm?” he hums, already knowing what you want.

“Faster, please. ‘M gonna cum!” He makes a noise of acknowledgement and the movements on your bundle of nerves become harder.

“I guess I’ll let you cum. You’ve been good so far, especially helping Mingyu out with his problem.” His words sound sweet, but you also know if this was just you and him and you had more time, he’d still be teasing you until you cry. That’s not the case now though, as Jeonghan takes a moment to readjust the angle of his hand before he’s driving his fingers in and out of you with all of his force while his other hand still busies itself with your swollen clit.

Your grip on Mingyu’s dick falters, your eyes fluttering closed again as Jeonghan works to push you closer to the edge. Without missing a beat, Mingyu’s hand rests over yours, guiding you up and down his length which seems just as good as you doing it on your own.

Mingyu’s moans match yours in frequency, both high pitched and breathy. “J-Jeonghan, just like that, shit! Fuck!” When you finally cum, your face rests against the tile, yelps echoing in your own ears. Mingyu lets your hand go to allow you to grip the counter top, trying to keep your balance.

Jeonghan, being who he usually is when you’re together, doesn’t immediately let up his actions, fingers still tapping at your sensitive bud a few more times before you’re whining even more and attempting to close your legs.

With a snicker, he finally pulls back, sighing loudly as he dramatically licks his fingers.

“So fucking good as always.”

“Yeah?” Mingyu quips, his eyes locked in on your swollen folds, wet with your release.

“Yeah, you should have a taste too, Gyu.”

You don’t even get a chance to ask the time or check your phone, which is what you thought about doing first, because Mingyu’s got your hips in his grasp and turns you around. Your wide eyes stare at him and you think that he has to look just as ruined as you feel.

“Would you mind if I get a taste of you, babydoll?” Something about the way the pet name rolls off Mingyu’s tongue sends a whole other sensation rocketing through you.

You breathe out a ‘yes,’ and Mingyu immediately uses his strength to lift you quickly from around your waist.

“Mingyu!” you squeal, arms wrapping around his neck as he carries you to the kitchen island and places you down as if you weigh nothing. He winks at you before he’s sliding down to his knees and opening your thighs.

He lets out a low whistle which you want to ask the meaning of, but you don’t get a chance as he surges forward, wrapping his lips around your still sensitive clit.

He suckles the nub a few times as you whine above him before diving his tongue into your entrance. He wastes no time eating you out more frantically than you think even Jeonghan has. Within no time you’re a moaning mess, head rolling back and body both trying to run from his talented mouth and trying to push yourself closer. He keeps his hands positioned on your thighs, gripping you so that even when you try and flinch away, he can still direct you back to his mouth.

He makes small grunts from below you, some of satisfaction, but most are just from getting lost in you: sounds of pleasure as his tongue darts in and out of your entrance, his lips latched onto your lower ones. It feels as though he’s got his entire face buried between your legs, his mouth damn near enveloping your entire pussy. His tongue is stiff as it darts in and out of you, rubbing against your walls and licking every inch of you that he possibly can.

Your eyes are closed, but you still hear the soft sound of Jeonghan’s footsteps moving closer. “Fuck, baby I didn’t know how hot it’d be to see you get eaten out. Wish I had my phone right now to remember this.”

Somewhere in your foggy brain, you register his words and glare at him. Or at least you think it’s a glare - it’s hard to tell when you can barely keep your eyes open.

Either way, the older man gets the intention, chuckling and raising his hands. “Yeah, yeah I won’t.” His eyes sweep over your body, leaning forward to ease the apron from around your head, followed by your sweater and your bra.

Sitting completely naked on your best friend’s kitchen counter is the last place you thought you’d be today, yet here you are. Mingyu’s grunts between your legs can be felt through every part of your body, your next orgasm on the horizon.

“M - Mingyu! Fuck, ‘m gonna cum again!”

The man clearly hears you, making a sound of acknowledgement before his tongue moves up to suck hard on your clit. Two thick fingers slip easily into your twitching hole, moving fast and in time with his wild tongue.

Jeonghan grunts at the sight, his own pants now at his knees as he fists his cock, watching your body twitch and jerk. His eyes lock onto your tits, nipples hard and inviting and he almost leans forward to capture one in his mouth when his eyes suddenly dart to the bowl of frosting not too far from you all.

He’s reaching for it and taking the plastic off. He at least has enough decorum to grab a big spoon from a nearby drawer, scooping a hearty amount out. He takes a small dollop on one finger and reaches forward to smear it over one of your nipples.

The sensation catches you off guard as your eyes fly open to look, being met with Jeonghan’s almost cat-like grin. You don’t even get a chance to question his actions or scold him for dipping into the frosting before he’s leaning in, tongue lazily circling your areola and gingerly scraping his teeth over your nipple.

A single suckle follows and that’s all it takes for you to lock your thighs around Mingyu’s head, arching your back and letting out a long moan as you cum suddenly. Your eyes cross as the pleasure washes over you, letting yourself slump backwards on the counter, head hanging off as Mingyu snuffles against your skin and laps at your folds, cleaning up your release.

“Fucking shit,” Mingyu huffs when he finally decides to come up for air. “That was so fucking hot, you’re so fucking hot. And you taste amazing.”

You wheeze out a thanks, Jeonghan’s laugh ringing in your ears is the most evil yet sexiest thing you hear over your own breathing.

“Speaking of taste…” he trails off and doesn’t say anything else before you feel him on your other nipple and you jolt, head raising to look at him. He swirls another dollop of frosting on you, gesturing to Mingyu. The taller man doesn’t even question it as he leans down to pop your tit into his mouth.

“Oh!” you gasp as his tongue swirls around your nipple, moving round in a circle before sucking. Even when the frosting is gone, he stays latched to your chest and you’re squirming underneath him. Jeonghan attaches his mouth to your other side, smearing frosting from your nipple and up your breast, all the way to your collarbone. His tongue cleans up your nipple before his tongue is licking up, up, up to clean the sticky sugar off of you.

Mingyu sits up, letting go of your tit with a wet pop and reaches to grab the spoon of frosting from Jeonghan. He takes a glob and you watch as he draws a shape on your chest and sternum, mind too scrambled from Jeonghan’s licks to tell what it is. When Mingyu is satisfied with what he’s done, he gives you a once over with wide, blown out eyes and then his hungry mouth is on your skin again, cleaning up the mess he made on you slowly and deliberately. He makes sure his teeth scrape every inch of sensitive skin on you as he goes, ending right back at your swollen nipple.

You’re nothing but pants and cries and whimpers as both men do more of the same. Taking turns covering your chest in frosting then licking it off.

Between the heat of the oven and the heat of their mouths and hands that grip your thighs and hips, you’re feeling dizzy and are convinced you’re now dripping onto the tile underneath your body.

Somewhere in the distance you hear your phone ding, eyes snapping open at the possibility that it’s Sooyoung.

“My phone!” You squeak out, wriggling under their holds.

Jeonghan releases your abused skin, heavy lidded eyes look you over before he quickly turns to grab your phone.

“Looks like my sister is at the store. Says she shouldn’t take long and that the accident was clearing up as she finally made it through so she should be home pretty soon.”

Jeonghan reacts to his sister’s message with a thumbs up and rejoins you and his friend.

“Please, need you, one of you, both of you, just someone,” you plead to them. Between your desire to be fucked and the fact that the countdown is on until your best friend will be coming home, you don’t care who does it as long as one of them gets inside you.

“Normally, I’d make you beg for me more and make you wait, but we are in a time crunch,” Jeonghan agrees, looking over your trembling form. “Where do you want us?”

“Don’t care,” you sigh out when Mingyu finally pulls his puffy lips off of you.

He and Jeonghan share a look, clearly deciding who will go where. Just knowing that the two men are having a silent conversation as to which one of them will do what to your body has your thighs rubbing together in clear anticipation. Jeonghan glances at you, smirking at your movements before he’s moving around the island, laying your head back to hang off of it again.

“Here’s what we’ll do, Mingyu will stuff that needy pussy of yours since he’s my guest. Think you can handle sucking me off while he does?”

“Fuck, yes,” you nod eagerly the best you can from your angle, senses tingling at the idea of a new position you’ve never done. “Need something under my neck though,” Jeonghan leaves your side for a moment to grab what looks like his sweatpants. He rolls the fabric up and places it under your head and shoulders for support. Jeongha’s hands caress your face and shoulders, watching as Mingyu gets into position between your legs.

Knowing time is of the essence at this point, strong hands run down your thighs, settling behind your knees to spread them more. You soon fill the blunt, large tip of Mingyu’s dick nudge your entrance and you shudder.

He rubs the bulbous head against your folds, nudging your clit once before slathering himself in your juices and bringing it back to your entrance.

“Ready, babydoll?” he asks, readjusting his hold on the back of your knees.

“Yes, please!” The words barely leave your mouth before Mingyu is pushing in, inch by girthy inch, stretching you slowly as he goes.

“Shit, you’re still so tight,” he mumbles through gritted teeth as he goes slower and slower until he’s finally nestled between your silky walls and his pelvis is almost flush with the back of your thighs.

“She always is, no matter how many times I get her to cum for me,” Jeonghan marvels, eyes locked on where you and Mingyu are joined. He watches as Mingyu pulls back, cock sliding almost all the way out before slamming his hips, pushing a true scream out of your pretty lips. His friend wastes no time in building a fast-pace, sending your body jerking back and forth on the counter so hard, your hands raise above your head for something to find purchase on.

That something turns out to be Jeonghan’s thighs as he moves closer into your space. He helps you ease your head back until it drops back off the edge and he’s standing right in front of your face.

“Open up for me, sweetheart,” he coos down at you and you do as he says, mouth falling open in a loud moan as Mingyu’s cock hits a spot deep inside of you. Jeonghan’s dick, long, curved, and as pretty as the rest of him, eases into your mouth.

Mingyu slows down enough for Jeonghan to comfortably settle in your mouth, giving a few short thrusts. Both men curse under their breaths when they listen to the gagging sound that comes out of you as Jeonghan’s length hits the back of your throat.

“Tap my thigh twice if it’s too much, okay baby?” Jeonghan says to you and you tap his thigh once to let him know you heard him. “Good girl. Gonna fuck this pretty little mouth now, okay?” Your response is muffled, but it's affirmative and that’s all Jeonghan needs to begin moving his hips, the tip of his dick hitting the back of your throat again and again with slow, languid thrusts. The deliberate pace allows you to steady your breathing and shut your eyes to concentrate on taking him.

Soon enough, his thrusts are faster and Mingyu takes this as his cue to resume his movements as well. He doesn’t start as frantic as he did when he first slid into you, but his thrusts are so deep, you can also feel him in your chest. His dick is as big as the rest of him and you’re made aware of that as he stretches every inch of your walls to mold around him.

As soon as both men hear your whines around Jeongha’s length, they look at each other, nodding with a silent understanding of how they’ll fuck you together.

Mingyu’s pace goes from casual to anything but as he begins to drive his hips into yours again. His fingers dig into your hips as he fucks you, keeping you pinned in place as he does to keep you from sliding from the force.

Jeonghan’s gentle hands rest on either side of your head, stroking your cheeks carefully as he fucks your mouth, eyes falling closed as he does.

Your body feels like it’s on fire with both the sensation of your pussy and your mouth being used by both men. Your eyes stay wrenched closed tightly as you seesaw between them, back and forth, back and forth. Your ears can only pick up the wet squelches of your spit around Jeonghan’s cock and the sharp slap of Mingyu’s muscular thighs hitting the back of yours. He still has your legs up and open, pressing himself into you as far as he physically can.

“Fuck, your mouth is fucking heaven, baby,” Jeonghan grunts as he drives his dick back and forth between your lips. He watches the drool pool around your mouth and drip down your face. He thinks he sees tears prick at your lash line too and the sight is nearly enough to have him explode right on the spot, but he holds back, wanting you to cum first.

Mingyu lets out a string of curses as he buries himself deeper, eyes fixated on the sight of his cock disappearing and reappearing in you, covered in a white ring of both of your juices. His eyes slide over to the bowl of frosting, still sitting on the counter and he reaches over, scooping more out to rub on your chest again. His pace falters a little as he leans over your body to lick you clean again and you let out a long, drawn out moan around Jeonghan as his red hot tongue licks fire across your sensitive skin.

Jeonghan follows his lead, but instead of covering you in the pink, sticky sweetness, he pulls his dick out of your mouth and smears it on your lips and down his dick instead.

“Baby didn’t get to taste it,” he murmurs so low that it sounds as if he’s almost talking to himself. When he slides himself back into your mouth, the sugary sweet flavor mixes with the heavy, salty taste of his precum and you excitedly accept as he plunges all the way down your throat. You relax and relish in the broken, almost desperate cry that he lets out when you swallow around him. “Shit! Just like that, sweetheart. You’re so fucking good to me,” You preen under the praise and do it again, only getting sidetracked up when Mingyu snaps his hips particularly hard as the same time that he bites down on one of your nipples.

A choked squeal is heard around Jeonghan’s length and both men feel their ends fast approaching.

“Fucking hell, babydoll. You close?” Mingyu asks against your sticky skin, biting and sucking at any of you that he can get his mouth on.

“Mmhmm!” you attempt to answer, which you can before Jeonghan’s dick is obstructing your airway again.

They hear you, though, and both reach out to make you cum first. Mingyu’s fingers toy with your clit, the pad of his thumb digging in to rub harsh circles as Jeonghan’s hot digits wrap around one of your nipples, tugging and pinching.

Your body jumps at the dual sensations, the feelings quickly becoming too much when paired with the sheer fullness you feel on both ends and in every fiber of your being. You feel yourself start to twitch harder, your hands still on Jeonghan’s thighs gripping him tighter as your nails dig into his skin. He hisses above you, all of you hearing the ding from your phone across the room which can only mean Sooyoung is on her way home.

The thought only lingers for a moment before Mingyu gives you a thrust that is just the perfect amount of pressure against your sensitive walls to have your back arching, a yell of what sounds like his name garbles out of you around Jeonghan’s length. The vibrations from your sounds are like a switch for Jeonghan, his body reacting immediately to yours and the way you swallow him almost all the way down as you cry out and cum.

He snaps his hips once more before he’s releasing, cumming down your throat then pulling out, some of his release spurting onto your lips, chin, and neck. You don’t even seem to notice, your eyes open but your attention elsewhere as Mingyu continues bullying his cock into your hypersensitive pussy.

Mingyu cums last, pulling out of your messy folds with a whine. He strokes himself once, twice, and then he’s cumming hard, his release spurting onto your thighs, painting your sweaty skin in white warmth.

The three of you slump in silence, breathing heavily as you clear your heads and get a grip. You feel something prodding your leg and with a heavy head, you manage to lift far enough to see Mingyu rubbing his softening length in the mess he made on your thigh. Clearing your throat to get his attention, he snaps his eyes up to you and stops, smiling sheepishly.

“Sorry,” he coughs. “It’s just…that was so fucking hot,” he repeats again and you can’t help but nod.

“Yeah,” you croak, making both of the men snicker at you. You reach a hand back weakly to swat at Jeonghan who dodges your half-assed attack.

“Here, let's get you cleaned up while we have time,” he says, glancing at the timer above the oven. Your cupcakes have ten minutes left and if he had to estimate, it would take that time plus a little longer before his sister gets home. He and Mingyu both help you sit up with Mingyu grabbing your hands to pull and Jeonghan cradling your head and neck to lift you up. Your joints groan in protest, but you manage to sit up.

Jeonghan moves to grab a paper towel, wetting it with warm water before he’s in front of you, wiping his drying spunk off of your face. Mingyu does the same, and cleans up what’s dried on your thigh.

“Ugh, I feel like I have to take a shower,” you sigh, aware of the uncomfortable sensation on the rest of your skin. Dried spit from both men along with remnants of the now useless pink frosting still smatter over you and you crinkle your nose.

“If you want, you can take a shower and I’ll keep an eye on the oven,” Jeonghan offers as he and Mingyu help you stand on shaky legs. The two of them gather their pants and your clothes as you lean against the counter slowly regaining strength in your body.

“Taking a random shower doesn’t seem suspicious to you?” you question, raising an eyebrow as you gesture to your phone, which Mingyu grabs to hand to you.

“If Sooyoung gets home, we can just say you got stuff on your clothes and you had to shower. I have extra clothes on me you can wear when you get out.” Mingyu offers.

“Yeah, and we’ll even throw your clothes in the washer real quick and she’ll never know!” Jeonghan looks around the kitchen before grabbing the now infamous bowl of strawberry frosting. He stares at it hard before eyeing the kitchen floor and tossing the bowl with enough force to shatter when it hits the floor.

“Jeonghan, what the fuck?!” you scream, flinching at the sound of glass breaking.

“I’ll tell her I knocked the bowl over, it broke, got all over you and now you’re showering. Plus, the frosting was dirty anyway now,” he shrugs, a smile playing on the corners of his lips. Part of you is annoyed at the prospect of having to put more work in to recreate the frosting which was the only part of the whole baking process that turned out successful. “When you’re out, Gyu and I will even help you guys so you’re done quicker.” At his suggestion, you quirk an eyebrow at him. “Okay, well mostly Gyu will help, but I’ll help clean up and do little shit or whatever, okay?”

“Deal,” you decide finally, glancing at your phone. Sooyoung will likely be more than halfway home at this point so you don’t have time to think of another plan.

The three of you split up then. You head for the bathroom to shower while Mingyu starts to clean up the bowl and the frosting from the floor. Jeonghan takes your clothes to the washing machine to start the load, then grabs some clothes from Mingyu’s overnight bag in his room for you to change into.

By the time you’re clean, washed, and in Mingyu’s oversized shorts and t-shirt, you can hear Sooyoung in the kitchen.

When you round the corner into the kitchen, three sets of eyes fix on you and Sooyoung rushes over to you. “Y/n, are you okay?! These two morons told me what they did!”

“Yeah, I’m okay. No injuries to report.” You give her a small smile, ignoring the wiggle of Jeonghan’s eyebrows behind her.

“Good. I feel so bad. If you want you don’t have to help anymore. I’ve already taken up your Sunday and forced you over here to work for free and now my idiot brother has ruined your clothes.”

“I’m literally right here,” Jeoghan reminds his sister as he finishes laying out the groceries she brought home.

“Yeah, unfortunately,” Sooyoung grumps, rolling her eyes.

“No, really it’s okay. I’m happy to help and besides, you didn’t ruin my Sunday at all, I promise!” She has no idea how true that statement is, but you manage to reassure her and she eventually nods, believing you, but still saying you can leave at any time.

You set to work helping her begin the batch of chocolate cupcakes as she works on making more strawberry frosting. You truly don’t mind helping, especially if that means you get to share sneaky glances and secret touches with Jeonghan. Today has been anything but a lazy Sunday, but you can’t say you mind too much.

[leighsartworks216]

Sunrise

Sylus x gn!Reader

Been rotting today so this is how I'm coping ✌️

Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, silly, established relationship, cuddling, kissing, literal sleeping together, swearing, suggestive themes, insecurity, references to depression

Word Count: 1,268

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The sun is now, officially, above the horizon. And while it doesn't shine very bright here in the N109 Zone and its shroud of eternal darkness, Sylus's internal clock is well attuned to its presence.

He sighs as he plucks his glasses from his face and sets them aside with the book he was reading. It's one he sees you pick up often, though he can't tell if it's for the charming slice-of-life moments, the love interest that sounds very similar to himself, or the toe-curling imagery of their (very, very frequent) copulation. Either way, it's a way to pass the time for those last few hours before bed.

At these hours, when night turns to day, and again when day turns to night, a sort of trade off happens. He slips into bed, holds you, speaks with you softly as you wake up and he drifts off; or you tuck yourself into his side as his barely-awake conscious automatically curls around you, where you tell him about your day to get the last vestiges of energy out of your system while he tunes back into his itinerary for the night. There are times when this doesn't occur. If you want to go out at night, or if he decides to tag along with you during the day; both of you and your not-so-subtle clinginess. That yearning you both share to spend as much time together as possible, even when it seems impossible.

But today, it does happen.

He stretches like a lazy cat as he quietly makes his way from the couch to the bed. He changed into pajamas hours ago, just after his shower to wash away the evidence of the night's exhaustion. Pants that hang loosely around his hips despite having a drawstring to adjust them. The waistband of his underwear peeking out the top. Exposed torso with muscles that shift and flex with his movements. He'd grown quite fond of wearing these more mundane things instead of his usual luxury robe, if only to better take in the way your hands slip over his abs and cling to his back.

He carefully draws back the covers. The bed shifts under his weight as he crawls in, his eyes focused only on you. Your cheek squished against the pillow. The sleeve of your nightshirt slipping off your shoulder. The irrefutable drool slipping from the corner of your open mouth.

You'd probably cringe and hide away if you knew he saw you like this every day. A complete and utter mess. Maybe you'd even refuse to let him wake you the next day, leaving him to curl around you from behind and pepper kisses all over your shoulder, begging to let him see you, his disastrously beautiful partner. As it is, it's a secret, just for himself to keep.

Your body reacts in tune with his as he pulls the blankets back up and gets to work wrapping himself around you. Arms circling your middle, hands against your back pulling you close. His legs tangling with yours. You turn into his chest. In exchange for your pillow, you use his shoulder. Your fingers seek out his waist, feeling up along his ribs as you hug him like it's the last time you ever will.

He brushes a kiss against your forehead. "Good morning, my love," he whispers. His voice is little more than a soft rumble, a gentle purr by your ear to coax you back to the waking world.

You inhale deeply. Your legs stretch out, toes pointing, back arching, until they're shaking, before you relax and melt into him once more. He still has to stifle a chuckle as you do it, watching as the blankets shift with the movement underneath.

Your face contorts into a sorrowful frown with a soft whine. "Don' wanna get up..." you mutter petulantly. You squish your cheek against him, trying to hide your face against his collarbones, but you just wind up looking insufferably cute. Still, he humors you.

"Hmm, why not?" He tries to pull back to better see your face, but you don't let him. He has to disentangle one of his arms from around you so that he can cup your cheek in his hand and guide you to lean back. Because it's his warm touch leading you, you don't fight it.

You grumble as you crack your eyes open to glare at him. "My body is made of sludge."

He can't fight his smile then. You see his lips curling up into something so amused and mirthful, and you pinch sharply at his side in retaliation.

"'S not funny!" you chide, but your voice is still slurred with sleep and your eyes haven't really focused enough yet to really be able to see him for how squinted they are. You pinch him again just under his ribs when he laughs.

Still chuckling, he brushes back your hair and strokes your cheek. "Okay, okay, it's not funny. I'm sorry." You huff, but your hand relaxes against his skin once more. "Why does your body feel like sludge?"

A minute of contemplation passes, punctuated by an eventual shrug. It could be something you ate. Could be a virus. More likely than not - Sylus recognizes - it's your brain deciding today would be the perfect day to be cruel to you.

"What did you have planned today?" he asks.

"Mm, I wanted to go to that really nice bookstore in-" You yawn, mouth gaping wide and fat gathering under your chin where it presses against your neck. "In Linkon. To get the next book in the series."

He hums. His fingers have started to trace idly along your features. They wipe away the tears from your yawn, then they wander across your brow. Across your cheek, your chin, your nose. Tracing, committing your face to memory. "Is the next book as - how did you phrase it? - 'spicy' as this one?"

Maybe you're too tired to realize the secret he just spilled, of reading your book while you've been asleep. Every time he asked about it before, you'd grow warm in the face and flounder over innocent explanations for the plot.

So you nod, sluggishly. Your eyelids flutter slightly as you fight to stay awake. "Is that all?"

"... Mhm."

"Then you can go back to sleep." He kisses your forehead as he draws you back into him. They linger, dancing against your skin as he speaks low and quiet. "We'll spend all day in bed, hm?"

You sigh. Your warm breath fans across his skin, sending sweet trills of delight through him. It's hard to remember a time when he didn't get to hold you so close, close enough to feel your breath, but there are times his body reminds him, leaving a cruel gap for his mind to fill in that he may not always be able to hold you like this one day. You, already drifting off back to sleep, completely unaware of anything else he could say right now no matter how ridiculous, squish your face up against his heated skin with an incomprehensible agreement to his proposal.

He himself feels his last grasp on consciousness slipping as the sun reaches out toward the midmorning sky. With the final moments he has left, he slips a hand under your shirt to rest against your sleep-warmed skin. The honeyed fingers of dreams caress the thoughts from his mind in time with your even breaths, until the last thing he's aware of is your hand slipping past the loose waistband of his pants to hold onto his ass.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one @always-just-red @22carolina08 @lunaizhere @sine-nomine0 @beautifulthingsiadore @lalaluch @burningtrashgentleman @nothankyew

[miniaturesuitgladiator]

Batfam x Neglected Mortal

Kombat reader

Notes: this is part eleven of Lucid Dreams.

Please read author's note at the end!

Warnings ⚠️: mentions of killing, blood ,and death. And reader does fight in this chapter. Not proofread!

The room is silent the atmosphere tense but also warm....

And looking into your father's eyes you seem warmth kindness....and dare you say love?

But before you can truly think your response through your heart speaks for you.

"You will always be my father...."

Your words hold truth. Because nomatter how far you have traveled when asked you who was your father you'd always say hanzo hassashi.

You are his daughter.

And though you've always been haunted by that. You don't feel remorse being his daughter in this moment. Because for once in a very long time you feel...wanted?

Sure jason had loved you but it always felt like you needed him more then he needed you. But seeing the desperation in your father's eyes you truly feel needed.

And it feels nice. A warmth spreads across your chest as your father begins speaking.

"Thank you ,my girl," He says.

Thank you.. He says Thank you. He's a king. He's never thanked anyone for anything. And yet he humbled himself before you and thanked you for allowing him to be your father.

Now that was something you didn't expect because in his words "A Hasashi is nothing if not prideful." He used to tell you. But as he speaks his words have no pride in them ,no ill intention, just love.

"I won't let you down... not again." He says and it's surprising how the roles have switched. It used to be you telling him that.

It used to be you begging him for forgiveness but now it's him.

The air no longer is tense it's filled with peace and acceptance. It's calming and it soothes your nerves.

The smell of his candles goes by your nose the hint of aok trees and vanilla. And it feels like you can breath agian. And you let go of a breath you didn't know you were holding.

But much to your father's dismay this moment cannot last forever.

A gaurd knocks on the door and your father huffs and tells him to come in.

"Are guest are here my king." The guard says as he bows.

Your father nods and stands up. Offering you his hand. You take it and stand up quickly pulling your hand away.

You wanted him to know he was still being tested. The you weren't trusting him fully. And he obviously got the hint with how fast you pulled your hand away from his.

He leads you out the room and you follow. Walking down the big stone walls he begins speaking.

"Many people want to see you...to see how you've grown."

You knew this would happen gossip spreads quickly here. Even faster then in gotham.

Despite there not being phone everyone knew just about everyone.

And right now you were the person everyone wanted to see.

"Their not just people...their allies who will help in the war." He says his voice still carrying softness. But you got what he was saying. He wanted you to impress them.

He needed you to impress them. This was a test. But you weren't proving yourself to your father like your test before.

No, now you were being tested by the people who are going to be fighting beside you. They need to see what you bring to the table. They need to see you.

Walking through the halls and into the main palace room where all the guest are already in. There's thousands and the big palace walls have no trouble fitting them in.

All eyes are immediately drawn to you. Thousands of eyes are all looking, observing ,and testing you.

You swallow and the pit in your stomach returns. Someone could've warned you but your sure they wanted to see how you reacted under pressure. And right now that's exactly what you feel.

Pressure.

A small figure makes it way to your side. And you don't have to look at them to know it's kion. His head is held up and you follow his actions.

You have to stand strong, show them who are.

Kion noticing your distress speaks up. His voice is quiet so just you can hear him.

"You look lovely sister." He says and his voice is firm he truly means what he says.

"Thank you." You say quietly not wanting to be the center of attention.

Everyone's eyes follow your form as you walk slightly behind your father. Because no one can walk before him. He is king after all.

Though everyone is watching and judging how you look how you sound even how you breath no one is looking to see if you okay.

Well except for Kion. Kioms eyes never leave you. And keeps a firm position beside you. Glaring at anyone who even thinks of talking to you.

Of course people want to talk to you. They want to know you. You, Kion ,and your father walk through the crowd of people and onto the podium that your father usually made commands on.

Behind you was his throne. Actually there was three thrones. One for the king. Another for his spouse which would unfortunately be empty now. And one bigger then the next but smaller then the kings. It stood on the right hand side of kings throne. It was yours. The heirs. Always on the kings right hand side.

Though yes the kings wife was important the more important thing was the heir

The one who would carry on the legacies the name. The power.

On your right side was a smaller but nice throne it was specifically for kion. He would be your right hand in your back up.

But by the way he stood by you and looked ready to kill anyone who even dare look at you wrong told you that you wouldn't need a back up.

You were perfectly safe.

Your father.stands in the middle of the podium. And all eyes leave. You and turn to him as he begins speaking.

"Today we welcome back my daughter. The princess." He states boldly. His voice is loud and proud and everyone erupts to claps and cheers.

"Will she be your heir?" A noble man asks and you see Kion roll his eyes at the man's stupidity.

"She is my first born." Your father states calmly but you can tell he's irrated to even be asked that.

"But who's to say she's fit to be queen? We haven't seen her in almost a decade." A loud and very annoying voice says. And though yes you have been gone over a decade you'd recognize that voice anywhere.

"Isn't that lord Khalid?" You quietly ask kion.

Kion nods his focus still on the man. But you can tell kion doesn't like the man either.

"I thought father and him hated eachother...father did take the mans eye out...right?" You ask quietly again.

And agian Kion nods. "They've made peace long ago sister...but their not as close as the once were..." kion whispers back. And this time you nod.

Your father looks at Khalid angrily and Khalid smiles. You knew how close Khalid and your father once were..but your father had accidentally cut his eye out...

You wonder if the one eyed man still hates your father or not. But you aren't looking at Khalid anymore...no your looking for his son.

The lord Khalid has seven sons to be exact but your only looking for one. He was a boy last time you seen him. And he was your dearest friend. Closest friend...

You'd spare together all the time when you were younger but he'd never hurt you even if you had hurt him.

He was kind something that this world didn't like. And you wonder if he still has that same bleeding heart.

You remember the last time you saw him. It was at his mother's funeral. Despite your father's fight you had came to his mother's funeral.

You knew how much he loved his mother. He had gotten his kindness from her.

You remember how he hadn't shed a tear at her funeral. Refusing to look weak infront of others. But you know he only did that cause his father just like yours before didn't tolerate weakness.

But when everyone had left her grave.

And it was just you two by her grave. The rain pouring down on both of you. The harsh rain drenched your clothes and hair he had begun crying.

You had never seen someone cry before. Because here it wasn't tolerated. You yourself had cried before in silence. But you never had to comfort someone.

So you did what you thought was best. You hugged him. It was awkward to you but you knew it meant something to him. He was crying on your shoulder and for while you wonder if it was his tears soaking your close or the rain.

He never let go of the hug and you never pulled away. Eventually the hug did get comfortable but sadness was unbearable.

He kept whisper things to you. Pleading with you. 'Please wake her up.' 'Tell her to wake up.' 'why won't she wake up?' He'd whisper in a heartbroken tone.

He'd repeat those words over and over and you truly did wish you could wake up his mother but you couldn't. So you held him tighter.

After that day you didn't see him. You had left shortly after. And you wish you had a better last memory of your friend but you don't. So you look around past Khalid to see if you can spot your old friend.

But you don't. There's far to many people crowed in this place. You sigh and continue watching your father talk to the stupid lord.

"You dare question my judgment?" Your father says strongly stepping forward challenging Khalid.

Khalid smirks and you know he's getting the reaction he wants.

"I do not doubt you king. I doubt your daughter. But please let her show us what she is capable of?" Khalid says smiling like he's already won. And for you a moment you feel suffocated in your big kimono.

A challenge. You hated challenges. You lost very few in your time but still you hated them.

"My daughter has nothing to prove to anyone." Your father says firmly dismissing the idea. But Khalid continues to push.

"Very well then king let it be known that the heir is nothing but a pretty face with no strength." Khalid says and you can hear the quiet gasp in the crowd your father and brother are both very angry.

How dare he insult you like that?

With a sharp scoff and narrow eyes your father agrees. "Very well then pick your challenger." He says and he doesn't spare you a glance.

Does he trust you that much to win? Or does he not care about your opinion?

Kion steps forward putting a hand on your arm and slightly pushing you behind him.

"I'll fight on my sister's behalf." Kion says his voice firm and you can tell your father is silently telling him to stand down. But kion doesn't stand down.

"That's not the agreement boy." Khalid says mockingly.

"To hell with the agreement!" Kion says glaring at the man and at your father.

"Do you just let your son speak for you king? Maybe his mother's absence has left him without manners." Khalid says and kions eyes widen.

And your eyes narrow. How dare he disrespect your brother?

This time you step forward pushing Kion behind you and shielding him from the stupidest men you've ever seen.

"Pick your challenger and I'll cut out his eye ,just like my father did to you."

Now your words are like daggers to the crowd no one expected that kind of response but your father smirks beside you.

"Very well then I'll be honored for the princesses to fight one of my sons. I'll give her the greatest fighter. Azrael." He says and no one even tries to hold back their gasps not even you.

Your sure everyone is gasping because Azrael is such a good fighter...but your gasping because you don't want to fight your old friend...

You see Azrael for the first time as he steps up beside his father. And gods you don't remember him being this beautiful.

He's taller then you now and you can tell he's strong. Jet black hair like his fathers but his hair is shoulder length but just short enough not to cover his eyes.

His eyes are the same brown as his mother's...

Scars litter his beautiful skin adding texture.

And memories of the battles he's won. Big muscle adorn his body and a beautiful face jawline.....

'Get a hold of yourself.' You say mentally. Shaking your head and trying to focus you see that Azrael is looking at you taking you in now.

Probably looking for weaknesses. Or maybe he still thought of you as a friend?

No, you highly doubt that. Your sure that after his mother's death his father had turned him cold. But one could always hope right...?

Once a friend now an alliance. Or enemy?

Your not sure but you know this fight will determine that.

"Your daughter has your mouth my king. Let's hope she has your skills as well." Khalid says and you only glare at him and your father scoffs.

"Prepare the arena." Your father says to the guards.

Why did you have such a big mouth? You think to yourself. No, you had to step up. You couldn't just let him talk to your brother like that...

You feel the arms of your maids who stand behind you pull you off the podium and away from everyone to prepare you for the fight.

"You shouldn't have spoken up princess." Loyce says her voice cold but you can tell she's worried. She was always the one who bandaged you up after fight..and she hated it every time.

"I had to stand my ground loyce. Plus this will be a way to prove myself. " You say dismissively.

"Azrael has beaten many warriors in his time...Raiden included." Loyce says as she continues to dress you into more suitable clothes for a fight.

Raiden? No one has ever beaten Raiden before....

You stay quiet trying to not worry.

Once dressed your maids rush to the arena. A place you know very well. Your father and Kion are waiting for you right infront of the door that leads to the entrance of the big arena.

Your father steps up putting a hand on your shoulder. "You've got this. If I see he'll hurt you I'll call the fight. No pressure." Your father says softly. He truly did trust you huh? No pressure he says but you know how much pressure there truly is.

Even your maids are shocked by his words. He's never excepted defeat especially from his children.

Your father walks off leaving you with Kion.

"You should've let me fight him." Kion says his voice loud and angry. He didn't want you fighting and that was clear.

"I'll be fine brother." You state as you reach over to hug him. He sighs and nods hugging you back.

"Go for throat. Show no mercy." He whispers in your ear before pulling away and following where your father had went.

Pushing the big wooden doors you step into the arena. The crowd already busting with excitement for the fight.

Everyone wanted to see you in action.

"Give them a show." Loyce says just as you pass the doors.

Walking into the middle of the big arena. You see Azrael on the opposite side.

Your father sits on his big chair in the crowd of the arena and Kions stands beside him.

On the other side of the arena is Khalid and his other six sons all screaming and cheering for Azrael.

"Chose your weapons." The announcer says loudly.

All the crows watches you as you go to the big table that carries almost every kind of weapon there is.

You think for a moment not knowing which to pick.

Katakanas are the fastest. A sword the most noble and common.

But your choice was already clear....chains.

Chains with shape edges on the daggers at the ends...just like your father's.

The crowd erupts into cheer and smiles as you pick your weapon.

Looking at hit father he shoots you a proud nod.

Azrael had chosen a sword. Noble.

Your bow to your father as Azrael bows to him.

And the fight begins.

Locking eyes with the boy who you once called a friend you try and read him. But you can't.

And that's when you know. Your fucked.

But he isn't necessarily looking at you with hate either...he looks....nervous?

His hands tighten around the sword he's holding and swallows hard..... he doesn't know what to do...he steps forward but he doesn't want to hurt you...

'So maybe...maybe I'll just tire her out...yeah! I'll tire her out and her father will call the fight off.' He thinks to himself.

And by you looking at the boy he doesn't look like the man who could defeat someone as great as Raiden.

'Why the hell isn't she attacking first? I'll guess I have to make the first move...' He thinks to himself as he steps forward.

He's quick to attack his sword drawing closer to your arm. 'Why go for my arm?' You think to yourself. All fighters usually go for the head it's more lethal..

You dodge his attack with ease. Throwing the chain dagger at him and he dismissively hits your dagger away with his sword.

'Okay so I'm a little rusty.' You think sighing as you pull your chain back in.

He goes low trying to sweep your feet. But your quick to jump back avoiding his leg and throwing a kick of your own only for him to catch your leg.

'Well shit.' You think to yourself.

His first thought is simple. 'Break it' that's usually what he would've done to anyone else...but your not anyone else.

You use your other leg to jump and kick his chest and he let's go of your leg.

The crowd cheers out your names waiting to see the outcome of the fight.

After about half an hour of fighting. And both of you with scraps well more like Azrael with cuts and scraps. You speak up.

"Stop holding back." You hiss just loud enough for him to hear.

He's dodging your attacks and your getting very impatient.

"As you wish princess." Azrael says and hearing his voice is magical.... his voice has long lost the baby tone it used to have.

It's deeper and more firm....it suits him perfectly.

With a quick move he successfully pushes you to the ground cutting your arm in the process. It wasn't even a deep cut.

But he felt horrible.

In his seconds of shock you quickly turn the tables pinning him beneath you instead. It took him by surprise not every seeing someone with such skills.

The crowd once agian full of excitement and yelling as you put your dagger to his neck.

'Cut his throat.' They all say. Everyone's at the edge of their seat waiting to see what you'll do.

But your waiting for Khalid to call the fight.

You need Khalid to call the fight... you can't lose this fight but you also won't kill Azrael to win.

Looking up to see Khalid he watches. You with wide eyes almost daring you to cut his throat.

You can't stand his arrogance. So you do exactly what you told him you'd do.

You hold the dagger over Azrael eye it's a threat and the last one you'll give before you do it.

You look up once more but Khalid is as prideful as ever. You hesitate you don't want to do it...but a quiet voice whispers in your ear.

"Do it." Azrael says as he close his eye allowing you to make your cut. To hurt him.

And you don't know who's more stupid you or Azrael.

But without a second thought you do it.

He hisses in pain as you end the cut right above his cheek.

Blood covers your hand and the crowd cheers. And you hold the dagger to his throat agian. But this time Khalid actually listen to your threat.

'The lord Khalid has yielded!' The announcer screams.

Pull the dagger away from his throat and standing up realization finally hits.

You...... you were going to kill him.

Your breathings heavy and your vision seems to be getting blurry.

Your eyes are on your hands and hoe their cover with blood....Azrael would've never hurt you like this...

You can't even look at Azrael or anyone to focused on the blood on your hands. Last time there was this much blood on your hands you had killed the joker....

Memories of everything you had done from you finding jason in jokers warehouse almost dead to killing the joker...to now what you just did....

Your vision is still blurry and your breathing had gotten worse and your eyes are still focused and your blood stained hands that you don't even hear the announcer say.

"Princess Hasashi wins! Flawless victory!"

Deep heavy foot steps can be heard throughout the temple which cause Kung Lao to walk to the sound of the steps.

No one has been in the temple recently due to the upcoming war between scorpion and sub-zero.

So Kung Lao walks hesitatently but confidently towards the steps.

But his greeted to the sight of his old friend....

"Well if it isn't the greatest warrior to ever live." Kung Loa says his voice still holding that familiar warmth that it used to hold years ago.

And your grandfather smiles seeing his old companion.

"I thought you he'd left us all behind." Kung Lao says still smiling.

"I could never leave me home...." Your grandfather states. But he leaves pit the part 'without my granddaughter.'

"I'm assuming you need something?"

"Indeed I do..." Your grandfather says nodding while the other batfamily members take in the beautiful of the temple their ancient walls holding stories and tells.

They party had lasted almost all night but you had went to your room straight after the fight. Your father seeing you in your worried state had sent you there.

Loyce and the other two maids had cleaned your new scar and given you a bath and finally you didn't feel all the pressure...but you did feel alot of guilt.

"You fought well princess." Loyce whispers in your ear her voice gentle and kind which is honestly shocking.

"That was a one-sided fight. Azrael wasn't even trying." You say as you sigh and loyce continues doing your hair.

"Well you taught him not to ever underestimate you agian." Loyce says.

'No I taught him I was ruthless' Is what you wanted to say but you didn't.

Because you know that you had to be ruthless here.... you couldn't afford to show weakness.

Laying in your bed in silence the only noise was from the small noises you could hear from the party.

It wasn't peaceful silence. No, the silence was almost mocking. You didn't dare and try to fall asleep because you just knew yoir have nightmares.

You hated them. The nightmares the were almost scarier then the real thing. Always so much more intense. Always so real.

Breaking you out of your thoughts is footsteps walking down the hall and towards your room.

Your ears strain on instinct trying to see who it is. And it doesn't take you long before you know.

"Sister?" Kion whispers from behind the door incase your still sleeping.

"Come in" You say. Not sitting up or bothering to look at him. He opens the door and without hesitation sits beside you on your bed.

Your on your back looking up at him and he doesn't look as scary now. He doesn't look like a prince.

His hair is no longer tied into his signature bun making his feature softer and he actually looks like a kid.....

You don't even have to say ask him why he's here because you know. He's worried.

"Can I touch?" Kion whispers almost like if he spoke to loud it would hurt you. He points to your arm the one that Azrael had cut. It's slightly bandaged but it doesn't even hurt anymore so you nod.

His fingers gently run over the bandage careful not to hurt you.

"Does it hurt?" He questions worry sketched on his face.

"No....it doesn't hurt." You say your voice quiet. To quiet for Kions liking.

"Sister.....are scared of the war?" He questions as if he's there to comfort you but you know that he's really the one who needs comfort.

"Fear is a natural emotion, brother.....it's alright to be afraid." You say your voice no longer quiet but soft.

Kion lays down beside you resting his head on your chest. He's seeking comfort...he's seeking your comfort.

And you hold him right back. Holding Kion was diffrent from Holding Jason.

Usually it had felt like you held jason for your own comfort. But you held Kion to comfort him.

You speak up breaking the silence.

"Death doesn't scare me anymore ,brother." You say your voice no louder then a whisper but the words you say sting Kion right in the heart.

"Neither do I fear my own Death sister....but I fear yours." He says his voice almost breaking. And your heart stings at his words.

He was scared...of you dying?

Usually the younger sibling would want the older one to die so that they could inherit the throne. But you suppose Kion is no regular brother.

You don't know what to say but you don't have time to say anything before kions speaks up.

"Don't leave me sister....please." His voice is so pleading almost exactly how Jason's was the night you left.

"I never will brother...not even death can take me from you.." You say your voice so kind and it brings Kion relief instantly.

"Thank you ,sister."

But his relief is short lived before he feels regret.

"I'm sorry sister...." He says his voice cracking agian but he doesn't move his head away from your chest to look at you.

You look down at him puzzled what was he apologizing for?

"Why are you sorry?" You question confused.

"I shouldn't have brought you here...this place doesn't deserve you..." He says his voice quiet and filled with tiredness and you know that he's just seconds from passing out.

And with him in your arms you don't worry about the nightmares anymore....

To you this mightve been a bit normal considering how you used to hold jason....but to kion this was...everything.

He felt safe and warm in your arms. He felt protected......

You still hear his last whisper before he falls into complete bliss.

"And neither do I...."

Authors note: Hey guys sorry if this feels a bit rushed I've also been working on a couple of other series! So thanks for your patiences!

💗Thanks for reading! 💗

Taglist: @dhanyasri , @kore-of-the-underworld , @i-adorehannah , @plsfckmedxddy , @phoenixgurl030 @bunbunboysworld @bat1212 @skepvids @sirenetheblogger @Nervousalpacalady @118gremlin @darktrashpoetry @bitternsweet @kksmush @awawage @coffeemin @feral-childs-word @cens0r3d @sweetprincesscomputer @exactlynumberonekryptonite @rosy-myhouse34 @hebaoffside @sheep-from-rad @time-shardz @vanessa-boo @jellyedkazoo @chinxinsomnia @sillysealsies @nervousalpacalady @gwyneveire @simpingpandas @crazycaoticsimp @nickey-diano @welpthisisboring @jsprien213 @pekusofixus @ryuushou @staarflowerr @kye-chen-r @yotokx @lilyalone @yandere-transformers-rock

[liuhsng]

✩ˎˊ˗ when fate calls ( psh ! )

✩ˎˊ˗ part of the untouchable series | enhypen masterlist ⤷ word count: 20.6k ( idk how i did that either ) ⤷ taglist for the series: open ! ⤷ warning/s: a/b/o au, cursing, female pronouns, fem!reader, very very very slowburn, kinda enemies to lovers trope, mentions of drinking and alcohol, angst angst angst, very indenial sunghoon, it gets fluffy eventually, you get your happy ending don't worry, not proofread, mentions of the other parts from this series ⤷ a/n: long as hell, hella lot of timeskips to but ik y'all live for that, enjoy reading! ✩ˎˊ˗ summary: as the eldest son of a powerful family, park sunghoon has always followed tradition, dedicating himself to his responsibilities. relationships never crossed his mind, his focus was on the life carefully planned for him. but then there was you, someone he had seen countless times yet never truly noticed until now. when realization dawned on him that you were his mate, it unsettled him in ways he couldn’t explain. it unsettled him in ways he couldn’t explain. the unexpeced idea of love terrified him, so he rejected the traditional courting that came with claiming an omega. but as his avoidance hurts you, the high and mighty alpha is forced to confront the truth he’s been running from: some things aren’t meant to be planned.

park sunghoon stared at the untouched coffee sitting on the edge of his desk, its heat long gone, leaving behind an aroma that lingered in the air. the clock on the wall ticked softly, mocking him with its glowing digits, 3:14 a.m. he was supposed to be asleep hours ago, but here he was, hunched over stacks of neatly organized paperwork. his bedroom, once a place of rest, now served as an office.

as the eldest, it wasn’t just expected of him to succeed, it was demanded. every report and signature carried the weight of the park name. sunghoon leaned back in his chair, his head tilting toward the ceiling, eyes heavy with exhaustion.

the faint ache in his temples grew sharper, but he ignored it, just as he ignored the way his inner alpha growled in frustration. you’re supposed to take care of yourself— for her, it growled. how will you protect an omega if you can’t even do this much?

his jaw clenched as he let out a quiet scoff, his irritation bubbling to the surface. “there is no omega,” he muttered under his breath, as if saying it aloud would somehow silence the voice.

the thought of having a mate, someone who would rely on him, only added to his frustration. he was already drowning in expectations, chained to a life that had no room for distractions, let alone love.

but his inner alpha didn’t back down, the primal side of him rebelling against his neglect. it clawed at him, not with anger, but with frustration, urging him to stop, to rest, to breathe.

sunghoon shut his eyes briefly, a bitter laugh slipping out as he rubbed the back of his neck. the idea of prioritizing himself, of prioritizing someone else in the future, felt absurd. he didn’t have time to indulge in instincts or fantasies, not when there was a legacy to uphold.

he opened his eyes, his gaze falling to the cold coffee cup, his reflection faintly visible in the dark liquid. the alpha in him stirred again, growling low and dissatisfied, but this time sunghoon ignored it entirely. with a sharp sigh, sunghoon pushed the cup aside, the clock’s ticking growing louder in the silence. the hours dwindled, and morning was creeping closer, but he knew sleep wasn’t an option.

there was work to be done, and park sunghoon never left anything unfinished.

sunghoon ran a tired hand down his face, sighing as his bloodshot eyes scanned the even larger pile of paperwork that greeted him. as the student council’s marketing director, his responsibilities seemed endless, and the fluorescent light overhead only made the mess on his desk look worse.

it was 6 a.m., and he was the first in the council room, of course he was. he had made it a habit to arrive early, more out of necessity than enthusiasm.

a brief pang of guilt crossed his mind as he remembered his sister. he hadn’t been able to wait for her like he usually did, leaving the house before dawn without a word. “i’ll have to apologize later,” he muttered to himself, though the corners of his lips twitched upward in a humorless smirk.

knowing his sister, she was probably already in sunoo’s car by now, laughing about something with the alpha. it didn’t help that sunoo wasn’t just his best friend, the boy with the pink hair was also her alpha, a relationship that sunghoon had begrudgingly accepted but couldn’t help but feel protective about.

the thought made him snort under his breath. of course, she’d be fine; sunoo never missed an opportunity to step in, no matter how early it was.

the sound of the heavy, wooden doors swinging open pulled him from his thoughts. jay walked in first, his tie already loose and his uniform jacket slung over his shoulder. the alpha paused mid-step, his eyes narrowing as he took in sunghoon’s slouched posture.

“dude, you look like shit,” jay said bluntly, tossing his bag on his own desk.

sunghoon didn’t bother looking up. “good morning to you too,” he replied dryly, his voice as flat as his expression.

jake followed close behind, a half-eaten breakfast sandwich in hand. he took one look at sunghoon and immediately stopped chewing. “holy shit, did you even sleep?” jake asked, his tone laced with disbelief. he gestured vaguely at sunghoon’s face. “you look like a ghost.”

“thanks,” sunghoon deadpanned, leaning back in his chair as he crossed his arms. “really needed to hear that.”

jay snorted, leaning against his table. “you know, for someone who’s supposed to be a pureblooded, strong alpha, you’re doing a great job of looking half-dead.”

sunghoon gave them both a sharp glare but didn’t have the energy to retort. instead, he pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning at the headache that was forming. “i’m fine,” he muttered, though the dark circles under his eyes said otherwise.

“yeah, sure,” jay quipped, grabbing a stack of paperwork that was messily sitting on top of his table. “keep telling yourself that, man.”

jake raised an eyebrow, still looking skeptical. “you’re not going to drop dead on us, right? because i’m not carrying your heavy ass to the nurse’s office.”

“i’m fine,” sunghoon repeated, though even he wasn’t convinced by the words.

jay exchanged a look with jake, both alphas sharing a sigh before jay sets his own paperwork down on the desk once again. “you know, if you die,” jay began with a mocking grin, his tone more teasing than serious, “you do realize you’re going to leave all of this on your sister’s shoulders, right? she’ll probably curse your name for eternity.”

“or possibly your mate,” jake chimed in, his voice casual as he gestured toward sunghoo. “you know, the one you’re supposed to be taking care of in the future by not working yourself into an early grave?”

sunghoon stiffened at the mention of a mate, his jaw tightening. he hated when they brought it up, and jake knew it. “i don’t have a mate,” he said coldly, his gaze darkening as he turned to the next set of papers.

jay opened his mouth to add another comment, but before he could speak, a new voice cut through the room. “yeah, as if,” heeseung’s voice drawled from the doorway, his tone laced with amusement. he was leaning casually on the wooden door frame, arms crossed as he looked at sunghoon. “he runs away from any omega he sees. poor guy probably wouldn’t know what to do if his mate actually showed up.”

jake snorted, leaning on his own desk as he tossed his sandwich wrapper into the trash. “he’d probably pass out on the spot,” he added with a grin.

“or just bury himself in more paperwork,” jay said, shaking his head. “honestly, sunghoon, you’re making all of us pureblooded alphas look bad.”

sunghoon glared at the three of them, his annoyance visible. “if you’re all done wasting my time, i have work to do,” he muttered, his voice sharp as he pointedly ignored the way heeseung’s comment bothered him more than it should.

but heeseung wasn’t finished. “you know, it’s funny,” he mused, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “for someone so obsessed with rules and traditions, you’re awfully quick to ignore the most important one.”

“i have no time for this,” sunghoon snapped, his tone colder now, though the way his pen stilled in his hand betrayed his frustration.his eyes stayed glued to the paperwork in front of him, refusing to meet heeseung’s knowing gaze.

“no time for what?” the older alpha challenged, his voice calm but laced with amusement. he stepped further into the room, his smirk deepening as he leaned casually against the side of his desk. “no time for the idea of a mate? no time for the omega who’s meant to balance out that storm in your head? or is it just no time for things you can’t control?”

jay and jake exchanged glances, their teasing expressions softening slightly. even they knew heeseung was pushing sunghoon in a way no one else dared.

“i said, drop it,” sunghoon growled, his alpha instincts flashing briefly in his tone as he clenched his jaw. his fingers gripped the pen so tightly it looked like it might snap in his hand.

heeseung raised an eyebrow but didn’t back down. “i’m just saying,” he continued, his tone now more neutral, “if you keep running from it, you’re only going to make it worse. you think ignoring it will keep things normal the way you want it to?”

sunghoon’s chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath, his irritation now mixed with something deeper, something he didn’t want to acknowledge.

he glanced briefly at the clock, as if that would give him an escape, before returning to his work. “i don’t run from anything,” he said quietly.

heeseung’s scent spiked up then, as if challenging sunghoon. The sharp scent of coffee and leather surrounding sunghoon spiked in response, tension building between the two pureblooded alphas as the room seemed to pulse with an unspoken challenge.

but heeseung tilted his head, studying sunghoon for a moment. “whatever you say,” he said finally, his smirk softening into a faint smile.

“but don’t come crying to us when it all catches up to you.” with that, he pushed off the desk, casually moving the placard on his own desk that read 'vice president, lee heeseung', sliding it to the side as he stood up, making it clear that he wasn’t going to stay much longer.

heeseung strode toward the door, hands casually shoved into his pockets, his movements deliberate but effortless. just before he left, he threw a glance over his shoulder at sunghoon, “see you later, park,” he called, his voice light but carrying an unmistakable edge.

“i mean, he had a point,” came a new voice from the doorway, breaking the silence. their gaze snapped up, and sunghoon saw sunoo leaning casually against the frame, his usual carefree demeanor somehow at odds with the tense atmosphere.

the pink-haired alpha’s arm was slung over his sister’s shoulder, and despite the casualness of the gesture, sunghoon couldn’t help but feel annoyed at the sight of it. sunoo didn’t drop his arm but instead moved it to hold her hand, intertwining their fingers as if marking his claim on her.

sunghoon clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing as he watched them. “right, you’re mated to my sister,” he said, the words coming out almost like a warning as his gaze flicked from sunoo to his sister.

sunoo grinned, unfazed by the glare. “yeah, well, we did kind of notice you were a little… tense. thought we'd come and check on you.”

“how long have you two been standing there?” sunghoon asked, his voice laced with a hint of exhaustion. his patience was already running thin after the exchange with heeseung, and now this.

sunoo shrugged, his smile widening as he stepped further into the room, his mate right beside him. “long enough to hear your conversation,” sunoo replied, his voice light.

“and to know you’re not fooling anyone," sunghoon's sister added, her tone teasing but with a hint of seriousness. "not even your inner alpha, by the way,” she shrugged, as if the comment was an afterthought, but it hit right where it mattered.

sunghoon glared at the both, irritation flashing in his eyes. he wanted to deny it, to brush it off as just another conversation about his future, but deep down, he knew they were right.

the hallway seemed to clear instinctively as the student council made their way through, a group of powerful pureblooded alphas, they carried themselves with the kind of confidence and authority that left no room for doubt about their status.

ni-ki, ever energetic, walked in front, his eyes filled with curiosity as he turned to jake. “so, about the proposals under the secretary committee…” he began, his voice full of interest. “do you think there’s anything the public relations committee can help with?” ni-ki’s gaze flickered to jake's tablet, who's fingers were drumming absently on the screen.

jake looked up from the screen, considering the question for a moment. “you guys could help with the promotions, we need the best pr support for this one.”

“right,” ni-ki nodded, clearly processing the info. “i’ll talk to the them about the promotions then. we’ll get it done.”

meanwhile, heeseung and jungwon were having their own little debate, their voices rising in the back as they argued about something entirely unrelated to council work. “i’m telling you, that new pheromone perfume? it’s garbage. they’re marketing it like it’ll solve everything,” heeseung said, shaking his head.

jungwon chuckled, shaking his head. “garbage or not, some beta's are eating it up. you can’t deny it’s working.”

heeseung rolled his eyes. “yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

trailing just a step behind, sunoo and jay passed a football between them, their movements smooth and practiced. “why are they always like this?” sunoo muttered, his gaze flickering to the pair ahead.

jay shrugged, catching the ball effortlessly before tossing it back. “it’s entertaining. besides, this is tame for them.”

sunghoon, walking a bit apart from the group, scrolled through his tablet with furrowed brows. his father had sent over another set of files, and while he was used to the constant influx of work, it didn’t make it any less exhausting.

“seriously, jungwon, you’re impossible,” heeseung muttered, shaking his head as he dodged jungwon’s attempt to nudge him.

“not like you have a choice,” jungwon teased, flashing a mischievous grin.

behind them, sunoo caught the football mid-air and smirked. “i bet heeseung’s just mad because jungwon actually has a point for once.”

jay chuckled. “don’t push it. you know how he gets when he’s losing.”

their banter continued, but sunghoon remained in his own bubble, his fingers scrolling mechanically over the screen. that was until a familiar voice called out.

“jake!”

the group collectively slowed, all their attention flicking to you as you approached. jake stopped in his tracks, lowering his tablet to meet your gaze.

“hey,” you said, slightly out of breath. “i need your help with something.”

jake’s brows furrowed slightly. “what’s up?”

you handed him your tablet. “it’s about the proposal breakdown you sent. the third column—again, it’s all messed up, and i can’t figure out why.”

jake blinked and then laughed softly, shaking his head. “that thing’s cursed.”

you groaned. “please tell me you can fix it.”

“of course.” jake started tapping on your screen, walking alongside you as he explained the error. you nodded along, grateful for his patience.

behind you, sunoo and jay exchanged a glance, their conversation fading as they tuned into yours. sunoo tossed the ball back absently. “they’re a bit too comfortable, don’t you think?”

jay smirked faintly, his tone teasing but light. “maybe jake’s just that charming.”

sunghoon’s jaw tightened, his fingers pausing on the screen as he forced himself not to glance in your direction. something about the way you walked so effortlessly into their group, completely unfazed, grated on his nerves. his inner alpha stirred, but he pushed the feeling down.

jungwon, noticing the way sunghoon’s scent subtly shifted, leaned toward heeseung. “you smell that?” he whispered, a sly grin forming.

heeseung, ever the observant one, smirked knowingly. “oh, i smell it alright.”

sunghoon’s eyes flicked up briefly, landing on you and Jake. He quickly looked back down at his tablet, though the irritation bubbling under the surface didn’t fade.

“you good, man?” jay called out, the football now tucked under his arm.

“i’m fine,” sunghoon muttered, his voice clipped.

“yeah, just approach me whenever you need help with that,” jake said, his tone casual as he handed your tablet back. a small, easy smile tugged at the corners of his lips, the kind that made it impossible to feel tense around him.

you mirrored his smile, genuinely grateful. “thanks, jake. i’ll let you know if anything else comes up.”

turning your attention toni-ki, who was walking just slightly ahead, you called out, “oh, and ni-ki, i already mentioned the pending tasks to jake earlier. i think some members of the secretary committee might be able to lend a hand if you’re short on people for logistics.”

ni-ki glanced back at you, surprised but clearly impressed. “really? that’d be a huge help. thanks, (y/n).”

so you were close to ni-ki too? sunghoon’s grip on his tablet tightened slightly, his jaw ticking as he skimmed the lines of text that no longer registered. his focus wasn’t on the files his father had sent him anymore; it was on you. you were supposed to be under jake’s committee, and yet here you were, chatting easily with ni-ki like you belonged in every conversation.

jake, noticed the subtle exchange and shook his head with a playful scoff. “you’re getting way too independent for my liking, nishimura,” he teased, shooting the youngest alpha a pointed look. “you’re consulting (y/n) without even running it by me first? seriously?”

ni-ki smirked, unfazed by jake’s mock scolding. “(y/n)’s good at this stuff. besides, teamwork, right?” he threw jake’s own words back at him, grinning.

you laughed, shaking your head at their banter. “don’t worry, jake. you’re still the boss. ni-ki just wanted to cover his bases, and i figured it couldn’t hurt to get a head start.”

“see?” ni-ki said, raising a brow at jake. “efficiency. maybe you should try it sometime.”

before jake could retort, sunghoon cleared his throat, a sharp sound that cut through the light-hearted conversation like a blade. everyone stopped talking almost instantly, turning their attention toward him.

“my next class is just around this corner,” sunghoon said, his voice calm but clipped, as if he wasn’t in the mood to entertain any further distractions.

his gaze briefly flickered to you, unreadable yet heavy, before he shifted his attention back to the tablet in his hands. without another word, he began walking ahead, leaving the group behind.

jay and sunoo exchanged glances, the teasing smirks they’d been wearing moments ago replaced by something more knowing. sunoo raised an eyebrow at jay, who shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“interesting,” jay muttered under his breath, loud enough for sunoo to hear but quiet enough to avoid catching sunghoon’s attention.

sunoo nodded slightly, his lips twitching in amusement as he leaned closer to Jay. “very interesting.”

you, oblivious to the subtle exchange between the two alphas, kept walking alongside jake, still completely engrossed in the conversation. “anyway, just let me know if there’s anything else i can help with. i don’t want to overstep, but i figured i might as well be useful where i can.”

jake chuckled, his laid-back demeanor putting you at ease. “overstep? you? nah, you’re just making my job easier. keep it up, (y/n).”

meanwhile, sunghoon, now a few steps ahead of the group, tried to keep his focus on the files displayed on his tablet. but no matter how hard he tried, his thoughts kept drifting back to you, walking too close to Jake, smiling too easily at his jokes, and being too comfortable in a group of alphas where sunghoon felt like you stood out the most.

his inner alpha stirred uneasily, frustrated and annoyed at the pull you had over him. he hated how it made him feel, how he couldn’t seem to control the way his senses sharpened whenever you were nearby. his scent of coffee and leather spiked faintly as he clenched his jaw, pushing the feelings down as best he could.

heeseung, noticing the slight change in sunghoon’s posture and scent, smirked to himself but didn’t say a word. jungwon, however, nudged jungwon with his elbow, his expression smug.

“called it,” jungwon whispered, earning a chuckle from heeseung.

you, still entirely unaware of the tension you were unknowingly creating, glanced toward sunghoon’s retreating figure for a moment, a small frown of curiosity crossing your face before you turned back to jake. “do you think he’s okay?” you asked, your voice tinged with concern.

jake glanced ahead, following your gaze to where sunghoon had disappeared around the corner. “he’s fine,” he replied, though there was a knowing edge to his tone. “he just takes things a little too seriously sometimes. don’t worry about him.”

but you did. you couldn’t help it.

and neither could sunghoon.

the classroom buzzed faintly with the low hum of people talking and the scratching of pens on paper. sunghoon sat by the window, his tablet was propped up in front of him, displaying spreadsheets and documents his father had sent over earlier, but his eyes weren’t on them. instead, they were fixed on the gray sky outside, his thoughts wandering far from budget allocations and meeting agendas.

you.

you’d been on his mind since lunch, and no matter how much he tried to push the thought of you away, it kept resurfacing and demanding his attention. you’d always been around, working under jake in the secretary committee. he knew you, he had seen you countless times in meetings and events.

but you’d never lingered in his thoughts before. so why now? why did the sight of you walking beside jake earlier make something in his chest tighten uncomfortably?

the faintest hint of honey and lilac lingered in his memory, soft but intoxicating. he swore he could still smell it even now, though he knew it was impossible. your scent, it clung to his thoughts.

his jaw clenched, and his brows furrowed as he tapped his pen against the desk. he didn’t understand it. there was something about you that had his alpha instincts stirring, clawing at the edges of his mind. his wolf; a part of him he usually kept tightly controlled was restless.

“mr. park,” his professor’s voice cut through his thoughts.

sunghoon blinked, snapping his gaze toward the front of the room. the professor was staring at him, waiting for an answer to a question he hadn’t heard.

for a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath, his classmates glancing between him and the professor. but then sunghoon straightened in his seat, his expression calm as he answered, “the proposed budget allocation for next semester’s extracurricular activities needs to account for inflation trends. that’s why the margin was adjusted to five percent.”

the professor raised a brow, nodding approvingly. “correct, mr. park. as expected.”

sunghoon’s classmates exchanged looks, some impressed, others annoyed, but he ignored them. his body was here, in this classroom, answering questions and keeping up appearances, but his mind? his mind was with you.

the bell rang, snapping him out of his thoughts. he packed his things quickly, stepping out into the hallway where jungwon was waiting for him, leaning casually against the wall.

“took you long enough,” jungwon teased, stepping beside him as they walked toward their next meeting.

sunghoon didn’t answer immediately, his thoughts still tangled. jungwon glanced at him, his brows furrowing slightly. “you good?”

“fine,” sunghoon muttered, his tone clipped.

they turned a corner, and Sunghoon’s steps halted for just a moment. there you were, standing a few feet away, chatting with jungwon and sunoo’s mates. you nodded at something one of them said, a small smile gracing your lips as you gestured excitedly with your hands.

sunghoon’s chest tightened again, that unfamiliar feeling stirring in the pit of his stomach. his wolf bristled, the instinctive urge to step closer, to claim what was his.but he shoved it down, locking it away behind the mask of indifference he’d perfected over the years.

you glanced up, your eyes meeting his briefly. without saying anything, you gave jungwon a small nod, silently acknowledging him. sunghoon caught the faint smile you sent his way before your attention returned to the conversation in front of you.

“looks like we’re all heading to the same place,” jungwon said lightly, his tone casual as he nudged sunghoon forward.

sunghoon didn’t respond, his grip tightening around his backpack strap as he forced himself to move. you were close, too close. he could hear your laugh, soft and full of life, as you spoke to sunoo’s mate. he could smell your scent, and it made his inner alpha agitated.

he didn’t like this.

didn’t like how his instincts reacted to you.

didn’t like the way his thoughts strayed toward you when he had more important things to focus on.

didn’t like how his body seemed to recognize something his mind refused to.

heeseung and jay passed by, still caught up in their conversation, but heeseung sent him a knowing glance. not fully understanding, but suspecting something.

sunghoon shut it all out.

he had no time for love.

no time for whatever this was.

without another word, he walked past you, through the council room doors, and forced himself to bury whatever this feeling was before it could take root.

you hesitated for a moment, watching sunghoon as he disappeared into the meeting room without sparing you another glance. it wasn’t the first time he’d brushed past you like that, but something about today felt different. the way his shoulders tensed, the way his gaze hardened the second he saw you, it was like you were a problem he didn’t have time for.

and you didn’t understand why.

you’d never done anything to him.never crossed any lines or challenged him in any way. if anything, you’d always made it a point to respect his space. so why did it feel like every time he looked at you, he was barely holding back his irritation?

sunoo’s mate, who just so happened to be sunghoon’s younger sister, sighed beside you, her voice low as she leaned in. “don’t bother,” she murmured, arms crossing as she watched her brother’s retreating figure. “he’s always like that.”

but was it?

because despite her words, you had a gnawing feeling that the way sunghoon treated you was different. like there was something beneath his cold exterior, something you couldn’t quite understand.

you were still lost in thought when ni-ki slid into the seat next to you. his presence was casual, but his sharp eyes missed nothing.

he nudged you lightly, voice dropping into a teasing whisper. “why are you staring at sunghoon like that?”

you snapped out of your daze, your eyes widening slightly. “what?”

the younger alpha smirked, resting his chin on his hand as he observed you. “you’ve been watching him since he walked in. and don’t even try to deny it.”

heat crept up your face as you quickly looked away. “i wasn’t—”

“uh-huh,” ni-ki cut in, clearly unconvinced. “sure, (y/n). whatever helps you sleep at night.”

you huffed, shaking your head before turning your attention back to jungwon as he finally started the meeting.

jungwon leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping idly against the smooth wood of the long table before his lips curled into a knowing smirk. “alright, before we get to the real agenda… i’m assuming everyone here knows they’re expected to be at the grand dinner our dear marketing director's family is hosting?"

collective groans echoed through the room.

jay was the first to voice his displeasure, rolling his eyes as he slumped against his chair. "no offense, sunghoon, but i was trying to pretend i forgot about that."

"do we really have to go?" sunoo sighed dramatically, slouching back in his seat with exaggerated defeat. "what if i suddenly develop a rare illness that prevents me from attending formal events? i think it’s highly possible. i should get it checked out."

"you and me, both," jay added, rolling his eyes.

jungwon chuckled, shaking his head. "i’ll make sure our dear school nurse looks after you." his tone was light, but the glint in his eyes made it clear; none of them were getting out of this.

you sat quietly at the far end of the table, taking in the conversation with mild amusement. the mention of the event piqued your curiosity, though you weren’t as vocal about your distaste for it as the others.

instead, you found your gaze wandering toward sunghoon, who, as expected, remained perfectly composed, his expression cold, eyes still skimming over his tablet as if this conversation didn’t concern him in the slightest.

unlike the others, sunghoon wasn’t one to complain about formal events. no, he was used to them. they were expected of him, just as everything else in his life was predetermined. and yet, despite his practiced facade, something about the way he held himself, his grip tightening around the device, his jaw tensing ever so slightly, told you that he wasn’t entirely unaffected.

not that you would ever get the chance to ask him about it.

because every time you so much as looked his way, his entire demeanor shifted, as if your presence alone irritated him. and it stung, just a little.

jungwon, unaware of the silent exchange, finally clapped his hands together. "alright, moving on. since we’re all forced to attend that wonderful dinner, let’s get to what actually matters, the upcoming school festival."

a shift in everyone's demeanor followed as the real meeting began. papers rustled, files were opened, and everyone straightened up, ready to discuss proposals and assignments.

"the main goal for this meeting is to finalize activity proposals before we present them for approval. we have a rough list, but we still need to sort out logistics," jungwon continued. "jake, you and your team already compiled the initial proposals, right?"

jake nodded, pulling out a neatly organized folder. "yeah, i went through the ones submitted last week. i’ll run through them real quick."

as jake started going over the list, you chimed in with some of your own notes, offering insights from the secretary committee’s perspective. "some of these proposals overlap with past events, so we might want to rethink a few of them to keep things fresh. also, we should factor in the budget constraints before finalizing anything."

jay, being the treasurer, leaned forward, tapping his pen against his notebook. "speaking of budgets, don’t forget that we still need funding for venue rentals and logistics."

heeseung snorted. "stop acting like we’re not broke. we could fund the whole event if we wanted to."

jay smirked, leaning back in his chair. "yeah, but just because we have the funds doesn't mean we should start tossing money around like it’s fucking monopoly cash."

sunoo, the student relations director, hummed in approval. "okay, but let’s consider which ones would actually engage the student body. no point in budgeting for an event no one shows up to."

heeseung leaned back in his chair, shrugging. "that’s fair, but we do have the resources. as long as it’s reasonable, funding isn’t really the issue."

jay sighed, still skeptical. "fine.just don’t come crying to me when we go over budget because someone thought a fireworks show would be a great addition."

the discussion flowed naturally, ni-ki making suggestions from the public relations side. we also need to think about how we’re promoting these events. even the best ideas fail if no one knows about them. i can get the pr committee to start drafting marketing strategies once we finalize the shortlist.”

but amidst all of this, sunghoon was distracted.

no one would have noticed, no one except heeseung, of course.

because while the others were engaged in conversation, sunghoon was stuck in a losing battle against his own thoughts. his gaze flickered to you more times than he wanted to admit, even as he forced himself to keep his attention on his tablet. he wasn’t just distracted, he was frustrated.

why did he care? why did it bother him when you spoke so easily with the others? you had always been there. wou had always been part of these meetings, always sitting on the opposite end of the table, working just as hard as the rest of them.

so why, now of all times, was he so hyperaware of you?

why did your voice pull him from his thoughts? why did the scent of honey and lilac make his muscles tense?

he didn’t have time for this.

he didn’t have time for love.

"sunghoon," heeseung’s voice cut through his thoughts suddenly, snapping him back to reality.

sunghoon didn’t even hesitate. "yeah, i agree with (y/n)’s suggestion."

silence.

jay raised a brow, glancing at heeseung before turning back to sunghoon. "you sure about that, man?"

sunoo looked equally amused, glancing between you and sunghoon as he tossed the pen between his hands. "because that was the first time you spoke since the meeting started."

the corner of Heeseung’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. "to you were listening, huh?"

sunghoon clenched his jaw. heeseung knew. he always knew.

but instead of giving them the satisfaction, sunghoon merely straightened in his seat, exuding the same indifference as before. "of course i was. i wouldn’t be sitting here if i wasn’t."

then heeseung let out a low whistle, still smirking, only leaned back in his chair. "right. if you say so."

jungwon, still trying to be professional, shook his head. “alright, focus, people.”

you, however, weren’t paying attention to them anymore. your gaze drifted toward a specific pureblooded alpha, the way he sat stiffly, the way his fingers tapped against the screen with an edge of tension.

and suddenly, you weren’t just confused.

you were curious.

because if sunghoon truly didn’t care about you, why did he remember every single word you had said?

you replayed every moment you saw him from earlier that day, his quiet, almost reluctant responses to you, how he kept his distance, but somehow, always seemed to be aware of everything you said and did. his voice echoed in your head now, and it made you question everything you’d assumed about him.

was this really indifference, was it or something else?

the meeting droned on, but your mind couldn't stay focused. it kept drifting back to him, his posture, the sharpness of his eyes, the moles on his face that somehow made him even more attractive, the way he always seemed so calculated, like he was constantly running scenarios in his head, measuring each move.

sunghoon wasn’t just someone who blended in with the group. no, he commanded attention, even without trying.

and yet, there he was, looking as uninterested as ever, his expression stoic as he scrolled through something on his device. but that nagging feeling, like there was something more beneath his mask— kept poking at you.

without thinking, you leaned back in your chair, letting the tension in your body melt away for a moment, trying to get a glimpse of the real sunghoon, not the calculated, polished version he liked to show other people.

you had to admit, you were intrigued. the pureblooded alphas were all so predictable in their own ways, but sunghoon was different.

your thoughts were interrupted when heeseung cleared his throat, looking at jungwon with a raised eyebrow. “we’re talking about the theme for the event, right?” he asked casually, as if the meeting hadn’t slipped into a quiet lull.

jungwon, nodded, unfazed. “yes. but we need more input from everyone. ideas that aren’t just—”

“i have one,” you cut in, unable to resist any longer. your voice came out clear and confident, a stark contrast to the flurry of thoughts racing through your mind. “we could go with something subtle but impactful. a theme that revolves around contrasts. like light and dark, maybe even using elements of nature, contrast of seasons or contrasting textures. after all, it’s all about balance.”

you paused, feeling everyone’s gaze on you for just a moment longer than was necessary. but you held it together.

the room fell silent, sunghoon didn’t react immediately, but you could sense his attention subtly shifting in your direction. you dared to meet his eyes for a split second, but he quickly looked down at his tablet again, feigning disinterest.

but you noticed the way his lips pressed together, the slight tension in his jaw that he never showed anyone else. you wondered if he was considering your word, or if he was just trying to avoid acknowledging the pull you had on him.

finally, sunghoon spoke up, his voice surprisingly calm,. “it’s not bad,” he said, looking up from his tablet. “contrast is a powerful tool. we could work with it.” his gaze lingered on you for a brief second before he turned his attention back to the discussion, as if the acknowledgment had been nothing more than a casual comment.

you blinked, slightly taken aback. the unexpected approval from him felt different than the usual dismissive reactions. but you didn’t have time to dwell on it. you quickly nodded, trying to maintain your composure.

“i’ll send a more detailed proposal with visuals after the meeting,” you added, pushing forward.

sunghoon didn’t say anything more, but you caught the way his gaze flickered toward you again, his eyes narrowing just slightly. there was a brief pause, like he was weighing his next move.

the air had shifted just a little, and you couldn’t quite place why. but you were certain that there was something more to his response, even if he tried to brush it off as nonchalance.

the rustling of papers and the faint creak of chairs filled the council room as everyone packed up. the meeting had dragged on longer than expected, and most of them were ready to go home.

jake slung his bag over his shoulder, exhaling. “alright, let’s go. i think we all want to sleep at a reasonable hour.”

ni-ki snorted. “reasonable? you all literally run on caffeine and stress.”

jake rolled his eyes, already walking toward the door. “just hurry up.”

one by one, they filed out into the dimly lit hallways, their chatter echoing through the empty corridors. outside, the night air was crisp, the usual warm breeze replaced by a sharper chill.

the campus at night had an almost eerie but majestic feel to it, grand architecture bathed in soft golden lights, towering columns casting long shadows across the marble pathways. the air smelled of expensive cologne and freshly trimmed gardens, the very image of wealth and privilege. it was the kind of place that asked for admiration, yet felt untouchable, like something straight out of a dream.

they walked in their usual loose formation toward the parking lot, their voices filling the space between them. sunoo and jay were deep in a debate about their next group dinner, ni-ki throwing in sarcastic remarks while heeseung poked fun at jungwon’s overly formal meeting style.

but sunghoon?

sunghoon was silent.

he walked with them, hands shoved into his pockets, his usual confident stride still the same. and yet, he wasn’t really there. he wasn’t paying attention to the conversation, wasn’t throwing in his usual sarcastic remarks. he barely even reacted when ni-ki nudged him in the ribs or when heeseung smirked at him like he was waiting for a comeback.

jay was the first to notice. he narrowed his eyes, slowing his steps to fall in line beside him. “what’s up with you?”

sunghoon blinked, like he hadn’t even realized someone was talking to him. “what?”

jay gave him a look. “you’ve been weirdly quiet. like, more than usual. it’s kinda freaking me out.”

sunghoon exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “i’m fine.”

but he wasn’t. and they all caught it.

because for the briefest second, his scent changed, something bitter wafted through the air.

jay’s eyes flickered, but he let it go. “if you say so.”

the conversation picked up again, but sunghoon remained detached, walking alongside them but never really taking part in any of the conversations.

they reached the parking lot, and the group naturally split off toward their respective cars, saying their goodbyes. sunghoon walked toward his own: a sleek, black sports car, polished to perfection. it stood out even among the other luxury vehicles, a clear reminder of his status.

he pulled the door open but didn’t start it. instead, he sat in the driver’s seat, gripping the wheel as he stared straight ahead.

the quietness of the parking lot pressed down on him, leaving nothing but the hum of distant streetlights and the faint ringing in his ears.

and then, for the first time all night, his inner alpha spoke.

pathetic.

a dull throb started in his temples. he shut his eyes, jaw clenching.

you’re running, aren’t you?

“shut up.” his grip on the wheel tightened, but the voice didn’t stop. it never did.

you saw her today. again. and what did you do?

his chest ached. “nothing.”

his inner alpha scoffed. exactly. you ignored her. you walked past her like she was nothing.

because she is nothing to me.

but even as he thought it, his own words felt hollow.

liar.

his head pulsed, frustration clawing at his skull. he couldn’t do this. he had responsibilities. expectations. he had worked too damn hard to let something as simple as instincts get in the way.

his life was structured, orderly. he had a plan.

he had no time for love.

no time for distractions.

and yet, the way his instincts clawed at him, the way his alpha had been restless all evening, it was suffocating.

his own body was betraying him.

he exhaled sharply, pressing his thumb and forefinger against his temple. not now. not ever.

with a final, sharp breath, he yanked the car door shut, sealing himself inside.

and then, without another second wasted, he started the engine and drove off into the night.

the drive home was a blur. sunghoon barely remembered driving through the city streets, his grip on the wheel tense, jaw locked as he forced his thoughts elsewhere. anywhere but where they wanted to be.

but the moment he pulled into the long, private driveway leading to his family estate, he knew that tonight was going to be hell.

his home was as grand as expected from a family like his: towering windows, intricate stonework, and the ever-present air of power. the gates shut behind him, and for a second, he let his forehead rest against the steering wheel. maybe if he sat here long enough, his thoughts would settle.

your scent still clung to his senses, honey and lilac, sweet but not overpowering. it had wrapped around him in the council room, seeped into his skin, and now it refused to leave. he hated how much it soothed him, how his muscles almost wanted to relax, how it made something deep in his chest coil tighter instead of loosening.

"you’re being pathetic," his alpha sneered, voice curling in his mind like a mocking whisper. "avoiding her doesn’t change the fact that she’s yours."

sunghoon’s lips curled into a silent snarl as he shoved the car door open, stepping out into the crisp night air.

"she is not mine."

his inner alpha laughed, low and knowing. "keep telling yourself that. see how well that works."

ignoring the voice, he strode toward the house. the moment he stepped inside, everything felt too much. the walls felt closer. the silence was suffocating. his body was tense with an agitation he couldn’t shake. his instincts were screaming at him to move, to do something.

he made his way upstairs, stripping off his blazer and tossing it carelessly onto the chair by his desk. his bathroom door was open, the mirror catching his reflection. his eyes were sharp, glowing under the dim lighting, the exhaustion on his face barely hidden beneath the tension.

he turned away, forcing himself not to linger.

a shower. maybe that would help.

the water was scalding against his skin, yet it did nothing to ease the heat gnawing at his chest. the steam didn’t drown out your presence—your scent lingered, thick in the air. his hands clenched against the tiles, his body stiff as the wave of frustration rolled over him.

"she’s under jake in the secretary committee," his thoughts snapped, trying to remind himself why it couldn’t be this way. "she’s always been there, but you never cared before. why now?"

his alpha growled, the voice inside him bitter. "because you were blind before."

"and i’m not now?"

"no. and you hate it."

sunghoon exhaled sharply, the water running down his back as he scrubbed it away, scrubbing away the thoughts that wouldn’t leave.

he was supposed to have control. He couldn’t let this slip. he had responsibilities, obligations, his family, the council, the expectations weighing on his shoulders. he could not afford distractions.

and yet…

the moment he collapsed onto his bed, exhaustion tugging at him, he couldn’t escape the truth.the weight of it crushed him as he stared at the ceiling, and despite all the effort to push it down, all he could think about was you.

his body fought against it. his mind screamed at him to focus, to remind himself of his purpose. but his heart, and his damn alpha—kept drawing him back to you.

he lay on his bed for what felt like hours, the shadows from the window stretching over the floor, taunting him with the silence that felt too heavy.

"get up," he muttered to himself, sitting up abruptly, his body moving almost involuntarily. he couldn't sleep. couldn't let himself relax. he needed something to focus on, something that would force his mind to behave.

sunghoon stalked over to his desk, flicking on the lamp with a snap of his fingers. the pile of paperwork in front of him was waiting; papers that he had ignored for far too long, reports that needed reviewing, contracts his father had left for him to examine.

he grabbed the nearest stack, flipping it open, pretending to care about the figures and legal jargon written on the pages. but it was useless. his eyes skimmed over the words, but none of it made sense. his mind was elsewhere. his fingers would itch for the next page, yet they weren’t moving fast enough. he cursed under his breath, trying to force his attention back onto the papers, but his thoughts kept drifting—drifting to you.

he slammed the folder closed, frustration clawing at him, his teeth gritting as he let out a harsh breath. what the hell was wrong with him?

"you know the answer," his inner alpha purred darkly. "it’s only a matter of time before you crack."

he shook his head, trying to fight back the growing sensation of need. he couldn’t allow it. he wouldn’t allow it.

still, the clock ticked on, its hands mocking him, each second louder than the last.

he pushed himself up from his desk, pacing the room in frustration. his mind was a battlefield, the war between his own instincts and the duties he had been born into. he couldn’t just let go. he had responsibilities. but everything in him—his very core, his inner alpha—was screaming for him to do the one thing he refused to acknowledge: follow his instincts. go to her. take the step forward.

“you’re already in too deep,” the voice reminded him again, this time quieter, almost tender. “she’s not just anyone. she’s yours.”

sunghoon froze, his back against the wall as the words hit him harder than he could have ever anticipated. his heart skipped a beat. the thought of you, the reality of you being his, it felt almost too much to bear.

his alpha wasn’t wrong. but the fear of breaking the walls he had carefully built around his life, the fear of losing control, it was all too overwhelming.

finally, sunghoon gave in and walked over to his walk-in closet, the weight of his thoughts dragging him down. he yanked open the door, revealing rows of neatly organized clothes.

his eyes scanned the options without much focus, hand moving almost automatically as he grabbed a random hoodie from the rack. pulling it over his head, he felt the familiar weight of the fabric, but it did little to comfort him.

maybe a walk would help. fresh air. something to clear his mind. maybe then, he could shake the way his body burned for something, anything that wasn’t this.

but the instant he stepped out into the cool night, his mind betrayed him again. he walked in the direction of the garden, his eyes glued to the ground, his thoughts clouded.

and there, in the garden, where the cold air mixed with the scent of flowers, the feeling hit him again, the overwhelming, suffocating need to give in.

sunghoon found himself staring at the moon, and then, without realizing it, his mind drifted again.

you.

and when he tried to stop it, it came anyway.

sunghoon’s frustration increased, his fingers clenching into fists at his sides. the wind swept across the garden, rustling the leaves, and yet he felt nothing but this suffocating pull toward you, toward whatever this was. the thoughts were relentless, the pull of his instincts gnawing at him.

his phone buzzed in his pocket, cutting through the chaos of his mind. he pulled it out, his eyes narrowing at the message from jungwon: “need you in the council office tomorrow for another meeting. can’t do this without the rest of you guys.”

sunghoon scoffed, shoving the phone back into his pocket. he wasn’t in the mood to deal with any more committee business. he was already drowning in it.

yet, despite himself, he began to walk back toward the house, his pace quickening as if his legs knew what his mind refused to accept; that he couldn’t escape this. not for long.

the only thing on his mind now was what he couldn’t have. and the bitter, hollow feeling that came with it was growing by the minute.

the morning light barely made its way through the heavy curtains, casting faint shadows on sunghoon’s disheveled bed. he groaned as a loud knock broke through the quietness of his room. the sound echoed in his head, still hazy with the remnants of sleep.

reluctantly, he reached for his phone, eyes squinting against the harsh glow of the screen. 7:00 AM. the numbers were bold, a text from his sister flashed across the screen, accompanied by a string of impatient emojis.

"sunghoon, get up. we need to head to the venue. there are last-minute details to fix before the event."

a sigh slipped past his lips. the last thing he wanted was to be pulled into this whirlwind of preparations, but as usual, duty called, his inner alpha thrashed beneath the surface, restless as ever, but there was no time for that. he had responsibilities to uphold.

another knock came, louder this time. “hurry up!” his sister’s voice echoed from the hallway, laced with a teasing urgency.

“yeah, yeah,” he muttered, dragging himself out of bed. his body felt heavy, his mind clouded, but he forced himself to push through. his sister’s impatience was nothing new, but today, it felt more grating than usual.

he stumbled to the door, opening it to find his sister standing there with arms crossed, an amused smile playing at the corner of her lips. "you're seriously still in bed? I swear, you’re getting worse with every event," she said, her tone light but laced with the expectation of someone who knew he could do better.

sunghoon rubbed his eyes, his voice groggy. “i’m coming,” he muttered, trying to shake off the sleepiness clinging to him. she rolled her eyes, brushing past him and heading down the stairs without another word.

minutes later, he stood in front of the full-length mirror in his closet, adjusting the black dior suit his mother insisted on for every event. the fabric felt familiar, but it didn’t comfort him the way it usually did.

his reflection stared back at him: sharp, immaculate, and detached. the face of someone who had never been able to escape the expectations placed upon him. he barely recognized himself some days.

sunghoon’s sports car sped down the quiet road, the cool morning air rushing through the slightly open windows. his sister, as usual, was absorbed in her phone beside him, chattering on about whatever had caught her attention.

but sunghoon’s mind was elsewhere. it kept drifting back to the image of you at the council, the way you carried yourself with ease, how your presence lingered in his thoughts like a scent he couldn’t shake.

“you’re driving like you’re half asleep,” his sister finally commented, giving him a quick glance with raised brows. “sunghoon, are you okay? you’ve been off all week.”

he blinked, pulling himself out of his daze and offering a strained smile. “i’m fine,” he said, his voice betraying him as he tried to brush it off.

she eyed him skeptically. “you’ve barely talked to anyone at home this week. what’s going on?”

sunghoon stiffened, but didn’t respond immediately. his mind briefly flickered back to you, but he shook it off, trying to stay focused.

“have you found your mate yet?” she asked, her voice soft but curious, not teasing, she could sense the change in him even if she didn’t fully understand why.

sunghoon’s grip tightened on the steering wheel as he kept his gaze on the road. his mate. he hadn’t allowed himself to think about that possibility, not when everything felt so complicated.

“no,” he muttered, the word coming out sharper than he intended. “not yet.”

his sister let out a dramatic sigh, clearly unimpressed. “you’re such a mess. honestly, you could just relax. it’s not the end of the world if you let your guard down for a second.”

he didn’t respond. instead, he continued driving, his mind still wrapped up in the swirling tension inside him. why couldn’t it be anyone else? why did it have to be you? he couldn’t seem to make sense of it.

the silence stretched on until his sister, mumbled something under her breath, so quietly that he almost missed it.

“the poor girl.”

his head snapped toward her, brow furrowed in confusion. “what?”

she looked at him knowingly, the edge of her teasing never fully disappearing. “you’ve been pushing her away all week, haven’t you?” she said softly, almost pitying. “and you think she doesn’t notice? poor girl. she probably thinks you’re confused with the way you keep looking at her.”

sunghoon’s chest tightened at her words. he didn’t say anything, but the weight of them lingered in the air between them. his mind was too busy to process it. he had to stay focused. he couldn’t let himself get distracted by his feelings now, not when there was so much at stake.

his sister didn’t press the matter further. the drive continued in silence until they arrived at the park hotel, seoul—a towering, luxurious building that his family owned. sunghoon parked the car and shut off the engine, forcing himself to breathe.

as he stepped out of the car, his gaze landed on a sleek white sports car parked by the entrance. it was familiar, but there was something about it, something about the way it was parked, so perfectly neat, that made sunghoon pause. he glanced at it for a moment but didn’t think much of it. he shrugged it off. after all, there were so many cars in the parking lot. it was probably just another business associate's vehicle.

“come on,” his sister said, walking ahead toward the entrance. “let’s go.”

they walked into the hotel, where the hustle of preparations for the event was already in full swing. his mother was already there, talking to a few staff members, discussing last-minute details. the sight of her being so composed and confident, was a relief to sunghoon. He always felt better around her.

“mom!” he greeted, his mood lightening as he walked toward her. she smiled and greeted him in return before they moved toward the elevator.

“top floor,” sunghoon said, pressing the button for the penthouse suite, the family’s personal event space at the top of the building.

the elevator doors closed, and as it ascended, sunghoon relaxed slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing. he loved this space; it always gave him a sense of control. the casual chatter in the elevator with his mom helped ground him.

“everything ready for the event?” he asked casually, watching the numbers on the elevator screen rise.

his mom smiled, nodding. “almost. Just some last-minute touches, but i think we’ll be fine. you know how much I love to be thorough with everything.” she glanced at him, her smile softening. “how’s everything with you, Sunghoon? you seem a bit distracted today.”

sunghoon rubbed the back of his neck, trying to smile more naturally. “i’m just tired, i guess. been a long week.” he quickly glanced over at his sister, who had her nose buried in her phone. “you know how it is.”

“of course,” his mom said with a knowing look. “you’ve got a lot on your plate, don’t you? just don’t overwork yourself. you know you can talk to me about anything.”

sunghoon appreciated the concern, but he wasn’t ready to share what was really on his mind. “i’ll be fine, mom. don’t worry.”

the elevator finally stopped, and they were greeted by the usual flurry of activity as staff members hurried around, making sure every last detail was in place. his mom led the way, greeting workers and supervisors with ease.

but sunghoon’s attention was already elsewhere. his eyes instinctively swept over the scene, and that’s when he saw you.

you were standing near one of the event coordinators, looking effortlessly at ease, your posture graceful. sunghoon froze. His heart skipped a beat as his gaze locked onto you.

before he could process it further, his mom continued walking ahead, greeting a woman standing nearby. sunghoon barely registered who she was until he saw her face, and the resemblance was unmistakable.

his breath caught. the woman was elegant, poised, with the same features that were reflected in your own face. he stood frozen, unsure of how to react. his eyes flicked back to you, now standing beside the woman, his mind struggling to catch up with the sudden connection.

then, to his surprise, his mom stepped forward and pulled you into a warm, affectionate hug. the gesture caught the pureblooded alpha off guard, leaving him momentarily speechless.

his sister, noticing the way sunghoon’s gaze lingered on the scene, raised an eyebrow. she smirked, almost as if she had been waiting for this moment.

“so… it’s actually (y/n), huh?” she said casually, her tone light but laced with a knowing edge. “guess you really can’t avoid it, huh?”

sunghoon’s chest tightened as he took a deep breath, trying to process everything at once. what were you doing here?

sunghoon stood frozen, his thoughts racing as his mom pulled you into a warm embrace. the sight of your face, the familiar features, everything about you felt like it was making his world tilt. he was still processing it all when his mom’s voice broke through his daze.

“sunghoon, come here, both of you,” his mom called, waving them over.

sunghoon’s feet moved almost automatically, his sister walking ahead of him, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she noticed the subtle tension in his posture. when they reached his mom, she was still smiling warmly at you and the woman standing next to you.

“(y/n), i’d like you to meet my children, sunghoon and his younger sister. and this is (y/n)’s mother, who i’ve been coordinating with for the event,” she added, beaming. "she’s in the same university as you two, actually.”

sunghoon’s eyes flickered between you and your mother. so, it was your family they were working with. the realization hit him harder than expected, his chest tightening.

sunghoon’s sister raised an eyebrow and gave you a knowing smile, but it was his mom who asked the next question, her curiosity piqued. “what are you involved in at school, (y/n)? i’m sure you’ve been keeping busy with the student council, right?”

you smiled a little, still feeling a little nervous under sunghoon’s gaze, but his mom’s friendly demeanor helped ease the tension. “yeah, i’m part of the student council. i’ve been helping with the planning and coordination for the event today.”

his mom nodded approvingly. “that’s wonderful! it’s always nice to see young people so dedicated and involved. i bet you and sunghoon are both quite busy with school.”

you nodded in agreement, a small smile tugging at your lips as you looked at sunghoon. “we see each other around. we’re both pretty busy with different things on campus.”

sunghoon’s sister teased, “you two are pretty close, though, aren’t you?”

sunghoon barely met your eyes, his lips curling into a tight, controlled smile. you mirrored his smile but said nothing, feeling the tension between you both grow.

“well, it’s great to see you both getting along!” his mom said, clearly happy with the easy atmosphere. “it’s nice to have a friendly face on campus.”

before sunghoon could respond, his sister pulled you away with a mischievous glint in her eye. “come on, let’s go help with the flowers,” she said, nudging you gently. “we’ll let sunghoon handle things for a bit.”

sunghoon watched you both walk off, his gaze lingering on your retreating figure. his thoughts swirled, but before he could gather them, his mom caught his eye, giving him a knowing look. she didn’t comment, but her silence spoke volumes.

sunghoon took a deep breath, his mind still racing. whatever this was, it was far from over.

the evening settled in, casting a golden glow through the large windows of the hotel. the once-chaotic venue was finally coming together, round tables adorned with pristine tablecloths, floral arrangements meticulously placed, and staff scurrying around to finalize details.

you stood near a reception table, clipboard in hand, while sunghoon’s sister leaned in beside you, skimming through the checklist.

“so, what’s left?” she asked, propping her chin on your shoulder.

you tapped the page with your pen. “final seating adjustments, sound check, and we still need to confirm the catering schedule.”

she let out a dramatic sigh. “god, i don’t know how you keep up with all this.”

you smirked. “maybe because i actually enjoy it?”

she gave you a teasing nudge. “or maybe because you’re a perfectionist, secretary committee girl.”

you rolled your eyes at the nickname. “i organize things. it’s literally my job in the council.”

Before she could respond, a familiar voice cut through the air.

“you’re overcomplicating the seating chart.”

Your head snapped up, and there he was, park sunghoon, standing with his usual composed posture, hands tucked into his pockets, expression unreadable. his mother had been talking to a coordinator nearby, but now, she glanced between the two of you, a small knowing smile on her lips.

you exhaled through your nose. “we’re adjusting it, not overcomplicating it.”

sunghoon gave you a flat look. “you moved the executive table again.”

“it needed to be closer to the main stage,” you argued.

“which messes with the aisle clearance,” he countered.

you opened your mouth to respond, but his mother stepped in smoothly. “you two can argue about seating later. for now, go check on the banquet hall setup. the decorators should be almost done.”

sunghoon sighed but nodded, while you grabbed your clipboard and turned to his sister. “you coming?”

she waved you off. “nah, i’m staying here. you two have fun.”

you frowned at her mischievous tone, but the alpha next to you didn’t give you time to dwell on it. with a tight-lipped expression, he gestured for you to walk ahead.

the large hall was buzzing with activity. staff were setting up buffet tables, arranging cutlery, and making last-minute touches to the decorations. you and sunghoon stood near the entrance, scanning the room.

“i’ll check on the centerpiece placements,” you said, glancing at your clipboard. you can handle the catering status.”

he crossed his arms. “why do i have to handle catering?”

you raised an eyebrow. “because i don’t feel like arguing with the head chef?”

sunghoon huffed but walked off toward the catering team while you made your way toward the floral arrangements. after a few minutes, you stood near the main table.

“they’re behind schedule,” sunghoon reported, running a hand through his hair. “something about delayed deliveries.”

you groaned. “of course.”

you took out your phone, scrolling through your contact list. sunghoon watched as you expertly navigated the crisis, calling the supplier and getting an update within minutes.

when you hung up, he raised an eyebrow. “you’re really in your element with this.”

you shrugged. “i have to be. the secretary committee basically runs everything behind the scenes.”

he scoffed. “so that’s why you always look stressed on campus.”

you shot him a look. “excuse me?”

he smirked. “i see you in the student council room all the time, buried under paperwork. i just assumed it was self-inflicted suffering or jake really hated your guts.”

you rolled your eyes. “unlike some people, i actually like responsibility.”

sunghoon just hummed, amused, before looking toward the exit. “come on, we still have to check the ballroom.”

the ballroom, meant for the main program, was dimly lit as technicians adjusted the spotlights. you and sunghoon walked toward the stage, where a staff member was testing the mic.

“you handle sound checks?” he asked, sounding mildly impressed.

you nodded. “part of the job.”

sunghoon leaned against a nearby pillar, watching as you exchanged instructions with the technicians. his eyes trailed over the way you moved so effortlessly slipping into control, giving orders with ease, adjusting the smallest details without hesitation. you were in your element, and for a brief moment, he wondered if this was what he had been avoiding all along.

when you finally wrapped up, he glanced at you, voice quieter than before. “you’re really everywhere, huh?”

“that’s kind of the point,” you said, flipping through your notes.

His gaze lingered on you for a second longer before he looked away, clearing his throat. “so, what’s next?”

you skimmed the checklist. “we need to make sure the vip section is set up properly.”

sunghoon groaned. “please don’t tell me we have to argue about chairs again.”

you smirked. “that depends. are you going to accept that i’m always right?”

he gave you an unimpressed look but followed you anyway.

the two of you walked through the elegantly arranged vip tables, double-checking details. at one point, you crouched down to fix a misplaced name card, only to feel sunghoon standing way too close behind you.

“you’re hovering,” you muttered.

“i’m observing,” he corrected.

you turned your head slightly, only to realize just how close he was. his scent of coffee and leather, wrapped around you, warm and grounding. you swallowed, standing up quickly and brushing imaginary dust off your skirt.

his inner alpha stirred. weak. you’re running again.

he ignored it.

his gaze traced the slight parting of your lips, the subtle rise and fall of your shoulders as you exhaled.he let himself linger, just for a second, in the space between restraint and surrender. and that’s when the thought crept in, unbidden.

is this really what you’re afraid of? her? or the way she makes you forget everything else?

his jaw tightened.

because it wasn’t just the bond. it wasn’t just attraction. it was the fear of unraveling, of slipping so deep into something he couldn’t control that he’d abandon everything else, his duties, his carefully built walls, the life that was expected of him.

his alpha hummed in amusement. she makes you weak, but you want her anyway.

sunghoon swallowed hard, straightening his posture. the warmth in his eyes cooled, replaced by something unreadable.

you frowned slightly at the shift.

he smirked. “nervous?” his voice was smooth, but there was a sudden distance in it.

you scoffed. “you wish.”

his gaze flickered to your lips for the briefest second before he took a step back, shoving his hands into his pockets as if forcing the space between you.

coward.

“if you say so.” he hummed.

before you could respond, a voice interrupted.

“ah, there you two are.”

sunghoon turned, turning his expression into something neutral as his mother approached, clipboard in hand. you straightened up beside him, the moment from before slipping between your fingers like sand.

“i need you both to oversee the final checks while i discuss something with the event coordinators.” his mother’s tone left no room for argument. she gave sunghoon a look, one that was equal parts expectation and knowing; before handing you the clipboard. you know what to do.”

you nodded. “of course, mrs. park.”

sunghoon exhaled slowly through his nose, nodding along as well.it wasn’t like he could say no.

another thing you can't say no to, huh? his alpha taunted.

he clenched his jaw, pushing down the irritation forming in his chest. it wasn’t at you, he knew that much. it was at himself, at the way he was still standing next to you despite everything.

you, however, had already moved on, scanning through the checklist before nudging his arm. “come on, park.the sooner we start, the sooner we finish.”

his eyes flicked down to where you touched him, the warmth of your skin seeping through his sleeve. his inner alpha hummed in approval, but he ignored it, following you as you walked through the venue.

as you worked, your voice was steady as you went over the details. “floral arrangements are set, table placements are final…” you trailed off as you examined the stage setup, flipping a page on the clipboard. “lighting checks should be done soon. could you talk to the technicians?”

he raised a brow. “you’re delegating to me now?”

you gave him a pointed look. “i can’t do everything myself.”

sunghoon smirked despite himself, but there was something bitter about it. you weren’t even flustered around him anymore. when did you stop getting nervous?

his alpha scoffed. you’re upset about that? pathetic.

still, he didn’t argue. he stepped away, scanning the ballroom for the lighting crew before walking off.

by the time he returned, you were deep in conversation with the floral team, gesturing toward one of the centerpieces. his gaze followed your movements, how easily you took control of the situation, how effortlessly you belonged in this environment.

she’s everywhere. always in the middle of things, always moving forward.

he rubbed the back of his neck, a familiar tightness forming in his chest. maybe that’s why he had avoided this for so long. because standing here, watching you do what you did best, made him realize something.

it wasn’t just about you. it was about him.

the fear wasn’t of falling for you. it was of what that would mean, of what he’d have to let go of to have you.

“earth to sunghoon?”

he blinked, snapping back to reality. you were watching him, an amused expression on your face.

“spacing out already?” you teased. “we’re not even done yet.”

he exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “just thinking.”

“about what?”

“nothing important,” he muttered, voice clipped.

you frowned at the sudden change in his tone but didn’t push. “right. well, let me know if you're ready to go. we still have things to check.”

yoou walked past him, your scent—honey and lilac, lingering in the air, soft yet unmistakable.his Alpha bristled, pushing at his restraint.

she’s slipping away. your omega is slipping away.

sunghoon clenched his fists. no. you were right here.he just didn’t know what to do with that.

for now, he settled for following you.

the night air was crisp, carrying a faint chill that hinted at the changing seasons. you barely noticed, too preoccupied with checking off the last few items on your clipboard as you walked through the dimly lit parking lot with sunghoon’s sister beside you.

“god, if one more person asks me about table placements, i’m quitting this whole thing,” she groaned, rubbing her temples.

you chuckled. “you say that, but you’ll still show up tomorrow looking like you run the place.”

she shot you a tired grin. “shut up.”

a few steps behind, sunghoon trailed silently. he wasn’t really listening to the conversation, at least, that’s what he told himself.

but his eyes betrayed him, flickering to you every so often, catching the way your brows furrowed in concentration, the way you absentmindedly tapped your pen against the clipboard, the way your scent of honey and lilacs felt like it was wrapping around him, daring him to step closer.

she’s right there. yours. slipping away.

his inner alpha’s voice was persistent, lingering in the back of his mind like an ache he refused to acknowledge.

he exhaled sharply, pushing the thought away. this was what he wanted, wasn’t it? distance. control. a clear line between what he felt and what he knew he had to do.

but then you stopped beside your car, unlocking it with a quiet beep. his sister slowed beside you, turning to sunghoon with a slight frown.

“hoon, you good?”

your gaze flickered toward him at the question, eyes searching, like you were trying to figure out what was wrong.

and that was the problem. you always noticed.

the alpha tensed, his walls slamming back up. his face smoothed over, his posture shifted, cold, detached, unreadable.

“yeah,” he said flatly.

the change was almost unnoticeable, but you caught it.

your grip on the clipboard tightened, as if debating whether to push, whether to call him out on it. but instead, you just nodded, lips pressing into a thin line.

“alright,” you murmured.

his sister sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes. “you’re both so dramatic.” then she turned to you, brightening up again. “don’t overwork yourself, okay?”

you mustered a tired smile. “i won’t.”

sunghoon stayed silent.

and this time, you didn’t bother looking at him before sliding into your car.

the moment your door shut, his alpha growled in protest.

fix it.

he clenched his jaw, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets.

no.

your engine rumbled to life, headlights casting long shadows across the pavement. he should’ve looked away, should’ve just walked off; but he didn’t. he watched as you drove off, the sound of your car fading into the night.

a quiet sigh escaped him. his mother.

she didn’t say anything earlier, didn’t scold or pry. she simply looked at him—knowing, like she already had a hint of what was happening.

and for some reason, that made his chest tighten.

so he exhaled, turned on his heel, and walked away.

the park estate was quieter than usual, save for the faint rustling of leaves outside and the occasional laughter echoing from the living room. sunghoon leaned back against the couch, one arm draped over the backrest as he scrolled mindlessly through his phone.

the guys had gathered there a few hours before the grand dinner, since it was closer to the venue, and the suits for the evening were going to be delivered directly to the estate. it was comfortable—familiar.

“bro, do you even listen to yourself?” sunoo snorted, throwing a cushion at jungwon, who barely dodged. “you keep saying you care about her, but where are you, huh? if i were your mate, i’d leave your ass.”

jungwon groaned, rubbing his temples. “it’s not like i’m ignoring her on purpose, okay? i just—”

“just what?” sunoo raised an eyebrow. “bro, you’re literally a pureblooded alpha. start acting like one.”

jake snorted from his spot on the couch, shaking his head. “you talk a lot of shit for someone who barely figured out his own mating bond.”

“hey, at least i figured it out,” sunoo shot back. “jungwon’s still treating his omega like he's still courting her—he's walking on eggshells.”

jungwon groaned, running a hand through his hair. “i don’t need this right now.” the younger alpha huffed, slumping into the couch, ears turning a bit red.

heeseung chuckled. “he’s right, you know. just follow your instincts. might help.”

sunghoon tuned them out. his fingers tapped against his phone screen, his mind elsewhere. that was, until two familiar voices drifted in from the hallway.

“oh yeah, follow that, don't be like my brother— can’t relate to the whole instincts thing.”

his sister and sunoo’s mate.

sunghoon barely registered her words, but the comment stung more than he expected. he tensed up, feeling his jaw clench involuntarily.

they didn’t even glance his way, walking past them straight to the kitchen.

for some reason, it made him feel smaller than he ever wanted to. he stayed quiet, his grip on his phone tightened, focusing on the lack of sound in the room.

jungwon’s eyebrows lifted. “uh… hello? you good?”

ni-ki leaned forward, grinning. “yeah, that was kinda weak, man. you always have something to say.”

sunghoon didn’t respond. he couldn’t.his thoughts were spiraling too fast, his alpha stirring like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

they’re right. you’ve been avoiding this for too long.

his jaw clenched.

why? because you’re scared? because you think pushing her away makes you stronger? you already know the answer, don’t you?

sunghoon snapped.

a low, warning growl left his throat, deep and sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.

his scent soured, something bitter and tense.

the room fell silent.

sunghoon immediately regretted it.

his friends weren’t scared, he knew that much—but they were surprised. he never let his emotions slip like that, never let his control falter.

jake raised an eyebrow. “damn, man,” he muttered, clearly surprised. “you good?”

sunghoon exhaled slowly, pressing his thumb against his temple.

jungwon, still startled, hesitated before speaking. “hey, man, relax…”

and then, jungwon added, almost absently—

“what’s got you all messed up? it’s like you—”

sunghoon cut him off, “i met my mate.”

the words left his mouth before he even fully registered what he was saying.

the silence that followed was deafening.

sunoo was the first to recover. “what?”

jungwon’s eyes widened as he processed what sunghoon had said. “wait—what?”

sunghoon leaned back against the couch, rubbing a hand over his face. his heartbeat felt louder in his ears now, the weight of his own admission settling in. “i met my mate,” he repeated, this time with more certainty, but still unsure.

jake let out a low whistle. “well, shit,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “didn’t think i’d hear that today.”

jay was still staring at him like he had grown a second head. “you?”

sunghoon shot him a glare. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

jay raised his hands in defense. “i mean, dude, it’s you. you’ve never even cared about that kind of stuff. i just—when? how?”

sunghoon hesitated. He hadn’t planned on saying this out loud, let alone explaining it. The moment he said the words, it felt like he had given away the control he had spent years perfecting had just cracked at the edges.

sunoo narrowed his eyes. “yeah, and who?”

ni-ki, looked almost wary. “wait, wait, hold up—are you sure?”

sunghoon shot him a flat look. “you think i’d joke about this?”

“no, but you also don’t exactly seem sure,” ni-ki pointed out.

that was fair.

because the truth was, sunghoon wasn’t sure, not fully. or at least, he had spent the last few days convincing himself he wasn’t sure. because if he admitted it, that meant things had to change.

and sunghoon hated change.

heeseung, who had been the quietest of them all, finally spoke up. his voice was calm, “since when?”

sunghoon pressed his lips together.

“sunghoon,” heeseung pushed, more insistent this time. “how long have you known?”

a muscle in sunghoon’s jaw ticked. “…a while.”

another silence stretched between them, heavier this time.

sunoo groaned, running a hand down his face. “you knew and didn’t say anything?”

sunghoon didn’t answer.

jake scoffed, shaking his head. “bro, what the hell?”

ni-ki leaned forward, his expression sharper now. “you’re seriously fighting this?” his voice was wary, frustrated. despite being the youngest, he thought it was stupid—this was instincts, this was nature.

the gods themselves had chosen fated mates with intention. rejecting that was like rejecting the sky, the air, the pull of the ocean’s tide. it made no sense to him. “why would you reject something that’s meant for you?”

jungwon, usually the more level-headed one, actually agreed. “ni-ki’s right,” he muttered. “you’re making this way harder than it has to be.”

sunghoon snapped.

“you think i had a choice?” his voice came out sharper than he meant, louder. his scent flared again, dominance pouring out of him.

and that set them all off.

because they weren’t just alphas. they were pureblooded alphas, born and bred into power, and when dominance was challenged, instinct demanded they answer.

jake and jay shot him a glare, their own scents spiking as an automatic reaction. jungwon bared his teeth slightly, frustration and something close to disbelief flickering in his eyes. sunoo looked like he wanted to hit him. “yeah, you had a choice,” sunoo threw back. “and you blew it!”

ni-ki’s glare sharpened. “do you even hear yourself right now?”

jake scoffed, shaking his head. “you think this is a fucking game? do you know how many alphas would kill to even find their mate?”

sunghoon clenched his fists. “it’s not that simple.”

jay barked out a short, humorless laugh. “no, you’re just making it complicated.

sunghoon had had enough.

he shot up from the couch, turned on his heel and walked out, his footsteps heavy against the marble flooring, his scent still bitter, still unsettled. he didn’t care where he was going. he just needed to get out.

sunoo and heeseung exchanged glances before following after him.

the afternoon air was cooler than he expected. he exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair, trying to breathe.

sunoo was the first to break the silence. “dude,” he muttered, “what the hell is going on with you?”

sunghoon didn’t answer immediately. he stared out at the sunlit garden, hands in his pockets, jaw tight.

heeseung leaned against the railing beside him. “talk to us,” his voice was calm. “you don’t have to deal with this alone.”

sunghoon let out a short, hollow laugh. “feels like i do.”

sunoo crossed his arms. “no, you’re just choosing to.”

silence.

sunghoon’s fingers twitched. he didn’t know how to say it, didn’t know how to make them understand.

“i…” he exhaled sharply, tilting his head back. “i don’t want this.”

sunoo furrowed his brows. “why?”

sunghoon swallowed hard. “because i don’t know how to be that person. a mate. a bond. a life that’s—” he shook his head. “i wasn’t made for that.”

heeseung sighed, rubbing his temple before stepping in. “sunghoon, listen to yourself. you’re treating this like it’s some kind of punishment.”

sunghoon let out a heavy breath, the weight in his chest pressing down harder. “it feels like one,” he admitted.

“because—” sunghoon continued, closing his eyes for a brief second before looking away. “because it means everything changes. i change.”

Sunoo scoffed, shaking his head. “and? what’s so bad about that?”

sunghoon turned to him, frustration bubbling to the surface. “you don’t get it—”

“no, you don’t get it.” sunoo cut him off. you’re not losing yourself, Sunghoon. you’re finding something—someone that was always meant to be yours.”

heeseung nodded, stepping closer. “and having an omega to call yours? that’s a responsibility in itself, one you were always meant to take on. you’re not abandoning anything—you’re taking something just as important.”

sunghoon’s jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling with each sharp breath. he wanted to argue, wanted to fight back—but the truth was, deep down, he knew they were right.

the thought alone terrified him.

the event was already in full swing by the time sunghoon arrived, the grand ballroom glowing with golden chandeliers and the murmur of polite conversation.

his polished shoes clicked against the marble floors as he stepped in alongside the others, all of them dressed in perfectly tailored suits, their hair styled to absolute precision. they looked every bit like the pureblooded alphas they were raised to be: refined, dominant, untouchable.

but none of that mattered the second he spotted you.

you were standing near the center of the room, surrounded by a group of familiar faces—his sister, jungwon’s mate, heeseung’s mate, and other omegas of high standing. a tight-knit circle of omegas that radiated grace and effortless elegance, laughing softly amongst themselves, their delicate fingers wrapped around champagne flutes.

and then there was you.

your gown hugged your frame in all the right places before cascading down in soft waves, your hair curled to perfection, makeup flawless, lips painted a shade he couldn’t quite name but suddenly wanted to memorize.

it pissed him off.

not because you looked good—no, that was obvious. it was the fact that you had noticed him, just as he had noticed you, but chose to act like he wasn’t even there.

he saw it. the way your shoulders tensed when he stepped into your vision, how your fingers gripped your champagne glass just a little tighter. but you didn’t acknowledge him. didn’t even glance his way.

like the past few days of him being distant meant nothing.

and that—that frustrated him more than anything.

a cough sounded beside him.

“karma,” sunoo smirked, enjoying every second of this.

jake chuckled, shaking his head. jungwon outright grinned. even heeseung—calm, composed heeseung—gave him a knowing glance, like he had expected this from the start.

but the worst was ni-ki.

the youngest in the group, ever observant, leaned in slightly, whispering just loud enough for them to hear.

“damn,” ni-ki mused, tilting his head. “that must hurt.”

sunghoon clenched his jaw, ignoring the way the others tried to suppress their laughter.

his gaze flickered back to you.

still not looking at him.

sunghoon barely had a moment to collect himself before the inevitable happened.

people noticed them.

it was impossible not to.

a group of young, pureblooded, alpha heirs walking into a gathering like this, dressed to perfection, exuding confidence and power, of course eyes turned their way.

she murmurs started almost instantly, subtle yet it was there. a few heads turned, quiet whispers rippling through the crowd as their names carried weight in these circles.

they barely had a chance to exchange glances before they were pulled into conversations, their group dispersing as they were greeted by family acquaintances, business partners, and distant relatives.

sunghoon knew how this worked. he had been raised for it, trained to move through these events with effortless charm and perfect composure.

his feet carried him toward his parents, who were seated at a table near your group. his father, deep in conversation with a few business partners, barely glanced at him before greeting him with a firm pat on the shoulder. his mother, ever the composed woman, gave him a knowing look before murmuring, “you’re late.”

sunghoon exhaled, adjusting the cuff of his suit. “got caught up.”

his father chuckled, still half-distracted. “ah, well. you made it.”

before sunghoon could take a step back, a familiar voice cut in.

“well, if it isn’t sunghoon.”

sunghoon turned, and his expression barely shifted, though he immediately recognized the man.

an older alpha, mid-forties, silver-streaked hair, broad-shouldered and sharp-eyed. someone deeply tied to their family’s business dealings, one of his father’s closest partners.

“it’s been a while since i saw you,” the man continued, raising his glass in greeting. his tone was casual, “you’ve grown into quite the spitting image of your father.”

sunghoon offered a small, polite nod. “it’s good to see you again.”

the older alpha chuckled, taking a slow sip of his drink. “good to see you too, kid. i remember when you were still a runt, running around at these events like you had better places to be.”

sunghoon let out a short, practiced laugh. “not much has changed.”

that earned another chuckle. then, with an amused tilt of his head, the older alpha leaned back slightly in his chair.

“you must have omegas swooning left and right,” he mused, swirling his glass lazily. “with that face of yours, i bet they’re lining up.”

sunghoon let out a soft breath, shaking his head. “i don’t have time for that.”

it was an easy response. dismissive, effortless. a throwaway comment.

except his eyes betrayed him.

because, without thinking, his gaze flickered right back to you.

and you heard him.

of course you did.

omegas had sharper senses than most. your hearing was leagues above everyone else’s, and sunghoon knew it.

he knew it the moment he saw your grip on the champagne glass tighten ever so slightly. the way your shoulders straightened just a little more.

but you didn’t react.

not outwardly.

instead, you let out a small, polite laugh, face perfectly neutral. then, in the same smooth, composed tone you always used at events like this, you excused yourself.

sunghoon stiffened.

but it wasn’t just you who reacted.

his sister’s gaze snapped to him almost immediately, a flicker of something unmistakable in her expression: disappointment.

she said nothing, but she didn’t need to. the look alone said everything.

and she wasn’t the only one.

his mother, ever observant, barely shifted in her seat, but the sharp glint in her eyes told him she had caught on too.

sunghoon swallowed.

he shouldn’t follow you.

he should’ve let it go.

but before he even realized it, his feet were already moving.

the hall leading to the restrooms was dimly lit, the golden glow of the chandeliers fading the further you walked. the music and chatter from the ballroom dulled behind you, muffled and distant, as if the world was deliberately pulling away, leaving you alone with your thoughts, with the weight on your chest.

your back hit the wall beside the restroom entrance, your breathing sharp and uneven.

you inner omega whimpered. not here. not now.

you clenched your fists at your sides, nails pressing into your palms as you fought the sting behind your eyes.

you had known. you had always known how this would end.

and yet, standing there, shoulders stiff, throat tight, your pulse hammering against your skin, you hated that it still hurt.

you sucked in a breath, blinking up at the ceiling, forcing the tears back.

you would not cry.

not in front of him.

And yet, the moment you sensed his presence, the moment his scent curled around you; thick, intoxicating, overwhelming, your body betrayed you.

your fingers twitched.

your breathing faltered.

you hated yourself for giving in so easily.

"what do you want, sunghoon?" your voice was cold, but the slight tremble at the end, barely there, almost unnoticeable, gave you away.

he stopped a few feet away, his hands flexing at his sides.

he was staring at you, his gaze dark, conflicted, like he didn’t know why he was here either.

his Adam’s apple bobbed. “i—”

"you what?" You cut him off, your voice sharp, edged with something dangerously close to heartbreak.

he exhaled, pressing his lips into a thin line.

you almost laughed. of course.

"nothing to say?" you scoffed, tilting your head. "then why are you here?"

his jaw clenched. “i don’t—” He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling harshly.

you hated the way your chest clenched at the sight.

hated the way his tie had loosened slightly, the way a strand of hair had fallen over his forehead, the way he looked so frustratingly undone for the first time tonight.

"you push me away." your voice wavered, but you forced yourself to continue. "you act like i don’t exist. and now you’re here, acting like you—" you swallowed, shaking your head. "you don’t get to do this, sunghoon."

his lips parted slightly.

"you don’t get to act like i matter when you’ve made it very clear that i don’t."

something cracked in his gaze. and for the first time, he looked afraid.

“i never said that,” he muttered, his voice softer now.

"you didn’t have to."

silence.

a suffocating silence. your throat burned. you couldn’t do this. you turned to leave, to push past him, to breathe—

but suddenly—

you couldn’t move, and before you could react, a strong, calloused hand wrapped around your wrist—firm, desperate.

your breath hitched.

sunghoon pulled you back—hard—and in the span of a heartbeat, you collided straight into his chest.

the impact knocked the air from your lungs.

his scent swallowed you whole.

you gasped sharply, your knees nearly giving out.

And then—

warmth.

overwhelming, all-consuming warmth, his arms were around you.

one wrapped tight around your waist, pulling you flush against him. the other cradled the back of your head, fingers weaving through your hair—steady, like he was terrified of letting go.

your chest heaved against his, hands fisting his suit jacket so tightly your knuckles ached.

but you didn’t care. you couldn’t care.

not when his heart was hammering against yours, not when his grip on you was desperate, not when his entire body was trembling, like he was breaking just as much as you were.

your breath came out shaky. "let me go."

he didn’t. he tightened his hold.

"sunghoon." your voice cracked.

his head dipped lower, his breath fanning against your temple.

"i can’t."

your stomach flipped violently. tears spilled down your cheeks, hot and relentless.

"you—" you squeezed your eyes shut, your grip on his suit tightening. "you’re such a fucking coward."

his body tensed. but he didn’t pull away. didn’t loosen his hold. didn’t deny it.

instead, his fingers curled into the fabric of your dress. asnd for the first time—sunghoon let his instincts win.

your hands gripped his suit tighter as your chest heaved, a strangled sob breaking free before you could stop it. the tears were now, falling fast and hot, no longer something you could hold back.

you pressed your face into his chest, the fabric of his suit absorbing the wetness, but it did nothing to soothe the ache inside you.

sunghoon’s grip didn’t loosen. if anything, it tightened. he pulled you in closer, as if trying to protect you from everything.

the shaking of his hands on your back was evident, and the way his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths made your heart ache for him in ways you didn’t understand.

"don't cry, omega, please." his voice was barely a whisper.

you shook your head, the words stuck in your throat. it felt like all the pain you’d buried, all the frustration, the confusion, the rejection—it was spilling out at once. you were drowning in it, and you didn’t know how to stop.

but his plea only made the sobs come harder, breaking free from your throat like you had been holding them in for years.

his arms tightened around you again, as if he could physically hold your pain together, as if he could stop you from shattering completely.

"i hate you." the words barely made it past your lips, muffled against his chest, but he heard them.

you knew he heard them.

because his entire body stiffened for a split second before his grip on you softened, his hand sliding from your waist to your lower back, the one behind your head shifting, his fingers threading into your hair with a gentleness that almost hurt.

"i know," he murmured, voice so quiet it was almost lost in the silence of the hallway.

your body shook against his, another sob wracking through you, and he just held you.

not saying anything.

not pulling away.

just letting you break in his arms the way you had never allowed yourself to before.

minutes passed, or maybe seconds—it didn’t matter.

time felt frozen between you, the weight of everything crashing down in the space between your heavy breaths. your mascara had smudged against the fabric of his suit, staining it, but he didn’t seem to care. he just kept holding you, his scent wrapping around you, keeping you from completely falling apart.

and then, finally—finally—you found your voice.

"why?"

a single word. quiet. shaky. but sharp enough to cut through the silence.

sunghoon stilled.

"why did you do it?" your voice cracked, but you pushed forward, your hands gripping his suit even tighter. "why did you act like i didn’t exist? like i was nothing to you? why did you pretend you didn’t care when you—when you—" another sob clawed its way out of your throat, your fingers trembling where they clung to him. "when you do this? when you hold me like this, like you actually—"

your voice faltered, and sunghoon inhaled sharply. his grip on you loosened, just enough for him to pull back slightly, just enough for him to see your face. his fingers, still shaking, brushed against your cheek, tracing over the tear-stained skin, his thumb wiping away the wetness that refused to stop falling.

his hands paused for a second.

and then—so, so softly—he spoke.

"i was scared."

your breath hitched.

"scared?" you muttured, barely above a whisper.

he nodded, swallowing hard, his jaw clenching like he was fighting something inside himself. his fingers brushed against your cheek again, hesitating, before cupping your face fully, his touch impossibly gentle.

"i didn’t know how to handle it," he admitted, voice soft, filled with something unrecognizable. i didn’t know how to handle you."

your brows furrowed, your heart pounding painfully against your ribs.

"sunghoon—"

"everything in my life has always been about responsibility," he cut in, his grip on your face tightening slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to make sure you were listening. "i was raised to be strong, to take over, to lead—to never let anything distract me from what i was meant to do."

his thumb traced the curve of your cheekbone, and his gaze softened—just barely.

"and then there was you."

the words came out barely above a whisper, but they sent a shiver down your spine.

sunghoon let out a shaky breath, his forehead nearly pressing against yours. "you were never supposed to be a part of that plan."

pain flared in your chest, sharp and unrelenting.

"so what?" you whispered, voice trembling. "you thought ignoring me would make it easier?"

his eyes squeezed shut, his expression twisting into something almost pained. "i thought if i pretended you didn’t exist, it wouldn’t hurt as much."

a bitter laugh left your lips. "and did it?"

sunghoon let out a slow breath, his hands stilling against your skin. his silence was the only answer you needed.

he was breaking, right in front of you.

and for the first time, you saw it. the fear in his eyes. the weight on his shoulders. the guilt, the regret, the want.

"you absolute coward," you whispered, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. "you let your fear ruin everything. you let it destroy me."

sunghoon inhaled sharply, his fingers pressing against your skin like he was afraid you would slip away.

"i know," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

and then, as if he couldn’t help himself, his hands moved again, thumbs tracing over your cheeks, smudging the mascara-stained tears without a care that his fingers were getting stained too.

he was looking at you now. really looking at you.

even with tear-streaked cheeks, even with mascara smudged against your skin, he thought you were beautiful.

you always had been.

and maybe that had been the scariest part of all.

he exhaled shakily, his forehead finally pressing against yours.

"i was so focused on all the responsibilities i had," he whispered, eyes fluttering shut, "that i forgot the most important one was right in front of me."

you. it had always been you.

and for the first time in forever, he stopped fighting it.

his hands trembled as he pulled you close again, wrapping you in his warmth, as if trying to make up for every second he had spent pretending you didn’t exist.

his heartbeat that was once steady, always controlled, was frantic against your cheek, like his body itself was betraying him, exposing everything he had kept hidden for so long.

"i’m sorry," he murmured against your hair, his voice soft, stripped bare of all the indifference he had once worn so easily.

again.

"i’m so, so sorry."

and again.

"i’m sorry."

each word landed like a plea, an ache.

his hands clutched at the fabric of your dress, fingers curling against your back as he buried his face into your shoulder. his breaths were uneven, his hold desperate like he was afraid that if he let go, you’d slip through his fingers for good.

you squeezed your eyes shut, the feeling of his regret pressing against your chest like a force you weren’t sure you could withstand.

"i hate you," you whispered, voice unsteady, and you felt the sharp inhale he took against your skin.

but you didn’t move away. neither did he.

"i know," he murmured. he didn’t argue. didn’t try to make excuses. he just held you.

you swallowed hard, fingers gripping the lapels of his suit. "i understand you more than you think."

a breath passed between you, thick with everything unsaid.

slowly, hesitantly, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands moving from your back to cup your face. Hhis thumbs brushed over your cheeks, wiping away the tear-streaked trails, smearing the black mascara that had run down your skin more than before.

his hands were shaking.

his fingers, stained with the remnants of your pain, trembled as they held you.

but he didn’t stop.

"you do?" his voice was so quiet, so uncertain, it almost broke you all over again.

you nodded. because you did. you understood.

you had always known sunghoon was never just the eldest son of his family, never just the heir, never just the perfect pureblooded alpha everyone expected him to be. he carried burdens he never spoke of, expectations that weighed him down like chains.

and you understood now, you understood that loving you, wanting you, was the one thing he had never been taught how to handle.

sunghoon exhaled sharply, his forehead nearly knocking against yours as he leaned closer, the warmth of his breath fanning across your lips.

"can i kiss you?"

the words sent a violent shudder down your spine. your breath caught, your heart twisting painfully in your chest.

because this moment, this hesitation, this vulnerability in his voice; was not the sunghoon everyone else knew.

this was the boy who had spent so long running. this was the boy who had finally stopped.

"it doesn’t mean you’re forgiven," you murmured, even as your fingers curled against his chest.

for the first time that night, sunghoon laughed. soft. shaky. breathless. but real.

"i know," he whispered, and then, slowly, finally, he closed the distance.

his lips met yours, and the world stopped spinning.

the first press of his lips was soft, like he was still afraid, still unsure if he deserved this, deserved you.

but then you exhaled against his mouth, a shaky breath that tasted like surrender, and something inside him snapped. the hesitation was gone.

sunghoon’s hands, still cupping your face, tilted your head just enough for him to deepen the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that bordered on desperation. his body caged you in, pressing you against the cool wall behind you, but all you could feel was him, his warmth, his scent, his everything, surrounding you, consuming you.

his grip tightened. one hand slid down, fingers grazing your jaw, your throat, before curling around the small of your back and pulling you in.

closer. too close. not close enough.

a small gasp escaped you, and sunghoon swallowed it, exhaling a sharp breath against your mouth before chasing your lips again. his movements were rougher now, more frantic, like he was trying to pour every unspoken word, every regret, every missed moment into the kiss.

like he was trying to prove something. that he was sorry. that he wanted you. that he needed you.

his other hand tangled in your hair, tilting your face up further, deepening the kiss until you felt dizzy, breathless, like you were floating, like you were falling.

and god, maybe you were. maybe you had been all this time.

your fingers fisted his suit, clinging to him. his lips, now hot and insistent, barely gave you a second to breathe, like he was terrified that if he pulled away, even for a moment, you’d disappear.

but you weren’t going anywhere.

you melted into him, letting yourself get lost in the moment, in the way his body trembled against yours, in the quiet, choked noise he made when your fingers finally, finally slid up to his hair.

it was intoxicating, the way he kissed you, like he was trying to make up for every second he had wasted, every touch he had denied himself, every moment he had spent pretending he didn’t want this.

didn’t want you.

your lungs burned, your heart pounded, and yet neither of you pulled away, unwilling to break whatever fragile, breathless thing had formed between you.

sunghoon made a strangled noise against your lips before reluctantly—so reluctantly—he tore himself away just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath ragged, his lips red and swollen.

his eyes, dark and dazed, fluttered open to meet yours.

and then, barely above a whisper, voice wrecked, he murmured,

"stay."

a single word, but it held everything. a plea. a confession. a promise wrapped in desperation.

your fingers tightened in his suit. “i’m not going anywhere, sunghoon.” your voice was steady, but thick with emotion. “even when you push me away. even when you try to pretend I don’t exist.”

his hands, still cupping your face, trembled. "never again." it came out like a vow. like a prayer.

his thumbs brushed over your damp cheeks, smearing what remained of your ruined mascara. his grip on you didn’t loosen, if anything, he pressed his forehead against yours, inhaling deeply, as if he's making sure you were real.

the silence stretched between you, heavy, but not suffocating. not anymore. then, suddenly, he straightens, “we need to fix you up.”

you blinked. “what?”

sunghoon pulled back slightly, scanning your face, your tear-streaked cheeks, the smudges of black under your eyes. then, without another word, his fingers curled around your wrist, tugging you toward the restrooms.

“the female restroom is that way,” you pointed out, confused.

“i know.”

your steps faltered. “you’re not allowed in there.”

sunghoon scoffed, barely sparing you a glance. “as if i’m letting you out of my sight again.”

your heart flipped.

before you could protest, he pushed open the door, dragging you inside with him. the moment it clicked shut, he turned to you. “up.”

you blinked. “what?”

sunghoon rolled his eyes before gripping your waist and lifting you effortlessly, placing you onto the cool marble counter like you weighed nothing.

you gasped. “sunghoon—”

but he was already turning to the faucet, pulling a dior handkerchief from his pocket. you watched, breath caught in your throat, as he ran it under the water, fingers tightening around the fine cloth.

and then, with the utmost care, he turned back to you.

your knees brushed as he stepped between your legs, his touch impossibly gentle as he cupped your face, tilting it slightly. the wet fabric pressed against your cheek, cool against your overheated skin, and sunghoon—god, sunghoon—wiped at the tear stains, the smudged makeup, his fingers brushing over your skin like he was handling something fragile.

something precious.

you couldn’t stop staring.

the way his brows furrowed in concentration. the way his jaw clenched whenever he came across a particularly stubborn stain. the way his lips pressed together, like he was trying to hold back words he wasn’t ready to say.

the way he touched you. like you were his. like you had always been his. your heart pounded against your ribs.

and when he finally, finally met your gaze again, his own eyes filled with something unreadable—something raw—you realized, with stunning clarity, that you had never really stood a chance against park sunghoon.

not then. not now. not ever.

a shaky exhale left your lips.

he was still staring at you, drinking in every detail, like he was memorizing the way you looked, the way your lashes trembled, the way your lips parted as if you had something to say but didn’t know how.

“take a picture, it'll last longer.” his voice was quieter than usual, but the tease was still there, laced with something softer.

you blinked, startled, feeling heat creep up your cheeks. "what?"

his lips curled slightly, but there was something about his smirk, something less sharp, less guarded. something that made your pulse stutter. “you were staring.”

your stomach twisted. of course, he would notice. your first instinct was to scoff, to roll your eyes, to dismiss it like you always did. tut before you could, you felt it; the shift.

your scent spiked, not in distress, not in discomfort, but in something else. something sweeter.

the scent of honey and lilacs curled around him, delicate yet intoxicating, a confession wrapped in something neither of you had the words to say.

sunghoon inhaled. slowly. deliberately.

his lashes fluttered for the briefest second, his fingers tightening just slightly around yours, before his smirk faded entirely.

and then, wordlessly, he leaned in. he didn’t hesitate. didn’t second-guess.

his lips found your forehead, pressing into your skin with the kind of tenderness that made your breath catch in your throat.

and he stayed there. lingering. savoring.

his breath was warm, brushing against your temple, the tip of his nose barely grazing your hairline.

you didn’t move. couldn’t.

his thumb brushed over your cheek, the corner of his lips twitching slightly. “come on,” he murmured, voice still hoarse.

you barely had time to process it before he moved, guiding you off the counter with his hands firm at your waist, catching you when your balance faltered.

but he didn’t step away. didn’t loosen his grip.

instead, his fingers threaded through yours, locking them in place as if letting go was never an option. you blinked up at him, breath uneven.

“you ready?” his voice was quieter now, softer in a way that made your breath hitch.

you swallowed, throat tight. then slowly, you nodded. and just like that, he pulled you with him. hand in hand.

the warmth of his palm was steady against yours, fingers locked. it wasn’t just an absentminded touch, wasn’t something he would let go of the second someone looked too long.

no, this was different. this was him choosing you. claiming you as his mate. and the second you stepped out, the change in the atmosphere was immediate.

silence. then whispers. a sea of murmurs spread through the ballroom like wildfire, voices hushed yet urgent, their curiosity thick enough to suffocate.

heads turned, eyes widened, people stared.

alphas. betas. omegas.

they looked, and looked, and looked. their shock crackled through the air like static electricity, palpable in every held breath, every barely concealed gasp, every sharp glance exchanged between one another.

you could feel their questions hanging in the air, unspoken yet deafening. was this real? when did this happen? how did this happen?

their gazes burned into your skin, some filled with intrigue, others laced with disbelief, and a few even brimming with something close to envy.

because this wasn’t just anyone walking out of a room hand in hand with park sunghoon. this was you. and sunghoon? he didn’t even blink.

he didn’t falter under the weight of their stares, didn’t acknowledge the whispers that carried his name in hushed, scandalized tones.

no, he just walked.

back straight, shoulders squared, head held high. as if this had been the plan all along. as if this was exactly where he was supposed to be. and with every step forward, the hushed murmurs only grew.

some alphas scoffed, exchanging skeptical glances, as if trying to convince themselves they weren’t impressed. some omegas straightened, eyes wide with a mix of admiration and disbelief. others, betas included, simply watched, unable to look away, their expressions unreadable.

but none of them mattered. not to you. not to him.

sunghoon’s grip on you remained firm, and even as the weight of the room threatened to crush you, even as the world outside of this moment blurred into nothing but an afterthought, one thing became blindingly clear.

you weren’t walking behind him. you weren’t trailing after him, waiting for him to decide when to let go.

no.

you were right there, beside him. right where he wanted you to be. and for the first time in a long, long time, you weren’t afraid to be seen.

sunghoon shot a smirk over his shoulder before tugging you even closer, his grip on your waist effortlessly firm. your hands barely had time to react before his fingers slipped from yours, only to be replaced by the steady warmth of his palm pressing against the curve of your hip.

the moment you reached their designated table, all conversation died. the six boy stared, mouths slightly open, like they had collectively short-circuited.

“what the fuck?”

the words came from sunoo, cutting through the silence. he blinked once. twice. then leaned back in his chair, hand over his chest like he had just witnessed a crime.

for a second, nobody spoke. then, slowly, as if processing what he had just seen, sunoo exhaled and shook his head in mock devastation.

“i feel like a proud dad,” he said, voice thick with fake emotion. “my boy finally grew a pair.”

jake choked on his drink. jay slapped the table. ni-ki let out an actual wheeze, gripping his stomach like he physically couldn’t handle it.

meanwhile, sunghoon just sighed, clearly regretting every life choice that had led to this moment.

“shut up,” he muttered, shoving sunoo’s chair with his foot.

“oh no, no, no,” sunoo replied, shaking his head. “you don’t get to shut me up after making us sit through weeks of your bullshit. you brooded for so long.”

“you were insufferable,” heeseung chimed in, still recovering from his initial shock.

"actually unbearable,” jake added.

ni-ki snickered, nudging jungwon. “tell me i’m lying.”

jungwon exhaled through his nose and pinched the bridge of it, like he was physically restraining himself from joining in. instead, he turned to you.

“i respect you so much,” he said seriously, nodding. “for putting up with this.”

you smiled awkwardly at first, not really sure what to say. but then you caught the way they all looked at you, not like a stranger, not even like someone new. no, they knew you. maybe not personally, but definitely through him.

sunghoon had been avoiding his feelings, but he hadn't been quiet about them, either.

“i wouldn’t say patient,” you admitted, finally finding your words. “i just… didn’t want to force anything.”

jay clicked his tongue, shooting sunghoon a look. “you’re lucky she even gave you that chance, man.”

jake leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “you do realize you can’t run forever, right?”

sunghoon groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "i wasn’t running.”

“bro, you practically had track shoes on,” ni-ki deadpanned.

heeseung smirked. “but at least you were smart enough to stop and follow.”

just as sunghoon was about to retort, a flurry of movement caught everyone's attention.

across the room, sunghoon’s sister, along with heeseung’s mate and jungwon’s mate, almost ran over to you, practically shoving through the crowd. sunghoon barely had time to react before his sister skidded to a stop in front of the table, eyes blown wide.

“when did this happen?!” she demanded, breathless.

you blinked. “uh… a few minutes ago?”

a sharp gasp.

“oh my god,” heeseung’s mate clutched his arm, her face pale as if she might actually pass out.

heeseung sighed and started fanning her with his hand. "breathe, babe. breathe. you knew this would happen eventually.”

“did i? did i really?” she shot back, eyes still locked on you and sunghoon like she was watching the finale of a long-running drama.

jungwon’s mate wasn’t any better. she was bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet, excitement thrumming through her whole body. jungwon, ever the responsible one, subtly reached over and stole her champagne glass before she could drop it.

“this is insane,” she whispered, eyes wide. “like, historical. i need a moment.”

but while that mess was happening, sunghoon’s sister was not celebrating the way the others were. no, she was glaring directly at sunghoon, hands on her hips, looking like she was about to throw hands.

“you—” she started, voice rising.

before she could even think about launching herself at her brother, sunoo; who, unfortunately for sunghoon, also happened to be her mate—stood up and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her back.

“alright, alright, let’s not start a scene, love,” he said smoothly, voice light but firm.

she squirmed against his hold. “i just want to talk to him—”

“liar,” sunoo deadpanned.

“park sunghoon, you forced the poor omega to accept you as your mate, didn’t you?” she accused, jabbing a finger in his direction.

sunghoon blinked. “excuse me?”

“yeah! you probably made (y/n) feel like she had to accept you just because you’re all high and mighty—”

sunoo sighed and pulled her back against his chest, locking both arms around her now. “hoon, just let her get it out of her system. she’s been waiting for this day for too long.”

you stifled a laugh, shaking your head. “i actually said yes willingly, if that helps.”

sunghoon’s sister froze. “you did? like… willingly-willingly?”

“willingly-willingly,” you confirmed, amused.

she blinked. then sighed dramatically, leaning into sunoo’s hold. “well… okay. but if he screws this up, i will come for him.”

“noted,” sunghoon muttered.

sunoo patted her head like she was an over-excited puppy. “there, there. you’ll survive this.”

sunoo shot sunghoon a smirk over her shoulder. “but man, you’re never living this down.”

sunghoon groaned. “i hate all of you.”

jay grinned, raising his glass. “love you too, man.”

sunghoon let out another sigh, but despite his grumbling, his hold on you was steady as he guided you toward an empty seat.

with ease, he pulled the chair out for you and waited until you sat down before moving to adjust the trail of your gown, making sure it was neatly tucked away so no one, especially him—would step on it.

the entire table had fallen eerily quiet.

it wasn’t an awkward silence. it was the kind of silence that felt like everyone was holding their breath, watching something unfold before them in real time, something they never thought they’d actually witness.

even as sunghoon straightened up, his focus remained on you. his eyes scanned your face with the same attention he always gave to important things, searching for anything he might’ve missed.

apparently, he had missed something.

without a word, he reached out, the pad of his thumb brushing against the edge of your eye, carefully swiping away the faintest smudge of mascara that had escaped his first attempt.

your breath hitched.

but the alpha wasn’t done.

satisfied with his work, his fingers barely hesitated before they moved to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, letting his knuckles graze your cheek ever so slightly. the touch was brief, but it was enough to send a wave of heat rushing to your face.

you swallowed, pulse slightly unsteady, but managed to send him a grateful smile. “thanks.”

sunghoon hummed in acknowledgment, seemingly unaffected by the entire exchange as he finally settled into his own seat.

he exhaled, relaxed for the first time that night, before slinging an arm around the back of your chair or maybe it was your waist, you weren’t even sure anymore. his fingers brushed against your side absentmindedly, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

and yet, the silence remained.

it was as if the group wanted to soak it in, to relish what they had just witnessed before fully reacting.

“i know they’re fated mates and all that,” ni-ki mumbled, voice tinged with disbelief. “but this is shocking.”

“right?” jay breathed out.

“i never thought i’d live to see sunghoon be so…” jake trailed off, gesturing vaguely in sunghoon’s direction.

“domestic?” heeseung guessed.

“whipped,” sunoo corrected.

sunghoon let out a long, suffering sigh, tilting his head back against his chair. “can you all just shut up?”

“fuck no,” sunoo said, smirking. “we’re never shutting up about this.”

jake lifted his glass in mock toast. “to sunghoon, for finally pulling his head out of his ass.”

ni-ki followed suit, raising his drink with a grin. “to (y/n) for somehow handling his brooding for weeks and still willingly agreeing to be his mate.”

sunghoon groaned, muttering curses under his breath, but his arm around you didn't shift.

as the evening stretched on, your table of eleven had finally started to settle. the once chaotic energy mellowed into something softer—comfortable, easy.

some of the boys were a little tipsy, their words slurring as they tried to argue over something completely irrelevant. others remained to themselves, quietly nursing their drinks, letting the night wind down at its own pace.

but sunghoon? sunghoon was right beside you.

his arm had never left your waist, fingers idly tracing patterns against the fabric of your gown as if he needed the reminder that this was real. his other hand was laced with yours, his grip firm.

he held you like he wasn’t planning to let go anytime soon. and the scent—his scent, coffee and leather tinged with a lingering warmth wrapped around you, mixing with your own like they belonged together.

you let yourself relax, melting into his hold as the voices around you became distant background noise. sunghoon exhaled softly, shifting just a bit so he could rest his chin against the side of your head. it wasn’t something anyone else would really notice, but you did. you noticed the way his thumb brushed against your knuckles, the way his heartbeat was steady and slow against your back.

the rest of the table was lost in their own little worlds, some caught in their own quiet moments with their mates, others too caught up in conversation to pay attention.

heeseung sat comfortably with his mate curled up against him, her head resting against his shoulder as he absentmindedly played with her fingers, their hands intertwined.

jungwon was just as affectionate, his mate tucked against his side as he nursed a drink in his free hand. unlike heeseung, whose touches were slow and casual, jungwon was openly doting, reaching up every so often to tuck a stray hair behind her ear or brush a kiss against her temple.

sunoo, of course, was a little more dramatic with his affection. his mate—sunghoon’s sister—had been sulking in his arms for the past several hours, still processing the events of the night. he cradled her easily, stroking a soothing hand over her hair as she grumbled into his chest. “i just wasn’t prepared, okay?” she whined, her voice muffled. “this all happened so fast.”

sunoo hummed, ever patient.

“you don’t understand.”

“i do, though.”

“no, you don’t.”

sunoo rolled his eyes, pressing a kiss against the top of her head. “fine, you win. i don’t.”

meanwhile, ni-ki was watching everything unfold like it was his own personal drama series. sis eyes darted between all the couples, mouth slightly open in exaggerated disbelief. “damn couples,” he muttered, half to himself, half to jake, who only chuckled.

sunghoon straightened, rolling his eyes. “can i have a moment?”

“no,” sunoo deadpanned, still holding sunghoon’s sister against his chest. “you wasted weeks brooding. this is our moment too.”

jake let out a loud laugh. “yeah, man, we had to sit through so much.”

“i still have secondhand trauma,” heeseung added.

jungwon stole the champagne glass from his mate’s hand as he nodded in agreement.

meanwhile, you just buried your face in your free hand, overwhelmed but undeniably warm inside. but before you could even fully process it, you felt his eyes on you, watching the way you tried to hide your flustered expression.

a low chuckle rumbled from his chest, and before you could react, he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just for you. “you better get used to this,” he murmured, “because you’re gonna hear a lot more this for a very long time.”

a very long time.

forever felt like such a long time, but maybe it was worth it when you finally had your alpha within arm’s reach.

taglist: @hoonbrry @hime98 @chae-darling @moonchus @peatchiedii @creamkwan @nyfwyeonjun @whoe-dis @woonie-muffin @caelumsjy @90sni-ki @leiomorea @junjungsunwoo

© 2025 liuhsng — reblogs are highly appreciated and please don't hesitate to request some fics here if you want me to write anything !

[amypihcs]

Hello OP, hope you're not offended by my writing a little something inspired by your art and about those two celebrating valentine's day!

Patron of beekeepers

One of the things Watson loved best of waking at Sherlock Holmes’ side, or rather, in Sherlock Holmes’ octopus-like hold, was the chance to wake his partner up.

Holmes had always looked much younger when he was asleep than when he was awake, and to witness such a completely calm and relaxed expression on his thin and severe features was, to Watson, one of the greatest blessings coming with their relationship. He would have spent hours in contemplating it.

That day, however, was one of the rare exceptions, for it was imperative that he started annoying his husband as soon as possible.

The retired doctor stretched as much as he could and extricated himself from Holmes’ hold, then he followed his partner further under their blankets to continue with his mission. Snickering under his moustache, he moved to kiss his high forehead and then those piercing eyes he so loved, then he moved to his sharp cheekbones and his nose. He passed for a moment on his jaw, leaving many small kisses and then, as Holmes’ eyes fluttered open he kissed his lips.

“Good morning my love. Happy Valentine’s day.” He grinned.

Holmes groaned, still half asleep and moved to roll on his belly, ending up curled up against his husband. “Annoying. Romantic. Cruel man, waking me…” He moaned.

“Wake up, my honeybee, I love you too.” He grinned, admiring his partner stretch and moving to lie once more on his back.

“Traitor. – He protested. – These are illegal moves.” He smiled, then yawned, his brain struggling to wake up.

Dr Watson laughed and moved to kiss his lips softly again, then he smiled a sly smile, moving downwards tracing with kisses his long neck and thin chest. “Saint Valentine’s day today, my Holmes. – He grinned as he tugged at both his pendants with his teeth. – For the Catholics-”

“Grand Mére was a Catholic…” Interrupted Holmes, grinning at Watson’s fondly exasperated expression.

“You really want to think of your French grandmother when I’m about to inaugurate the celebrations?” He deadpanned, his hands hovering between Holmes’ waist and the most ticklish spot of his sides.

The detective laughed. “Your cruelty knows no bounds. – He rebuked, rising his torso slightly to kiss his husband’s lips. – Pray, continue.” He smiled as he lied down again with the expression of a benevolent prince.

Watson laughed and bent once more, this time biting at the end of his ribs. “I was saying. Patron of fainting, of the plague… And of beekeepers.” He concluded with a soft kiss just under Holmes’ navel.

Holmes laughed again as Watson climbed yet souther on his body, bypassing his prick to kiss his inner thighs. “You’re a tease.”

“Am I now?”

“You are. I have a proposition for you, come up here.” Called the detective.

Laughing, Watson obeyed, climbing back up to lie next to his partner, one hand still roaming his body. “I’m as usual here to be used, my heart.”

“Mon Chevalier parfait. – Chuckled the detective. – I have something for you downstairs. If you wish, we can go downstairs, have breakfast, I show you your little surprise and then we can take a bath together, what do you say?”

Watson pondered the idea for a moment. “It’s a good idea. At least I can be sure that you will actually eat your breakfast.” He joked.

“And we also own a very comfortable couch downstairs. And an excellent set of blankets, should we proceed with what we were doing before it.” Smiled Holmes, making Watson laugh and call him a succubus.

The retired detective shrugged. “Maybe only a bit, mon chou. – He grinned. – But mostly I am, how did you call me last night? An impatient bastard? I’m curious to see if you’ll guess how I made your surprise.”

At this, Watson laughed and kissed his husband once last time before opening their blankets and rolling down from the bed, dressing in his underclothes and dressing gown and then, taking his husband’s arm in an attack of romanticism walk together downstairs.

As they reached the ground floor, Holmes quickly dispatched him to the kitchen to get their breakfast ready while he dashed into the little chemical laboratory they had furnished in a room meant to be a study.

“I hope you like them.” He smiled, offering Watson a curiously coloured postcard and a little packet.

The doctor kissed his lips softly. “I was sure you’d get me a pen, my dear. – He smiled. – But for the life of me, I can’t manage to understand how you coloured this postcard. Your message is incredibly beautiful, but now I’m incredibly curious and I can see…”

“Ah you truly have the wisdom of the serpent, my doctor. – Interrupted Holmes. – It’ s a new chemical analysis a Russian scientist invented a few years ago. It’s called chromatography. I did it with the petals of some flowers.” He explained, describing the process to his partner.

Dr Watson smiled and kissed him again. “And this is how I made a romantic out of you.” He grinned.

“Never!” Protested Holmes, accepting another kiss.

“Breakfast at the table or I bring the food on the couch?” Proposed Watson.

“I’d say we would cuddle better on the couch, my love. And breakfast is not so urgent after all.” Answered the detective, an impish look in his eyes.

Watson chuckled again, shaking his head. “You’re the devil Holmes. You’re lucky I love you.”

... yes i've just started studying biochemical methodologies. and chromatographies are included.

Hope you like this tiny thing <3

some holmes/watson doodles

[sakuraszn]

ⵌ TOO DAMN LONG !

ft. choso kamo x reader

synopsis. you and your very ‘laid back’ boyfriend choso go to a party and he sits quietly on the sidelines, watching his partner effortlessly charm everyone around them, but as the night progresses he can’t help but feel a little pent up. He had promised to be patient. He had promised to let you have your fun. But you’ve been ignoring him all night. Without a word, he takes you.

cw. sfw content? maybe..┊suggestive themes┊social butterfly reader┊needy choso┊jealous and possessive acts┊slight choking┊at a party┊small mention of the nickname “baby”┊fem coded

nia's notes. you guys don’t understand how much I love him so much so I had to write a fanfic dedicated to this fine, scrumptious man. *giggles for a whole hour while rereading this story* [1.7k words.]

The house was packed, the air thick with warmth, the scent of alcohol, sweat, and faint traces of perfume swirling under dim lighting. Music pulsed through the walls, bass heavy enough to rattle the floor. Conversations layered over each other, people talking too loudly, laughter ringing out every few seconds. The energy was intoxicating, electric, like something alive.

And Choso was miserable.

Not outwardly, of course. He wasn’t the type to sulk in the open, wasn’t the type to scowl and brood in a corner like some jealous boyfriend who couldn’t handle his girl being social.

But fuck, was he struggling.

His fingers twitched around the half-empty cup in his hand, gaze glued to you across the room. You were glowing, all teeth and laughter, caught up in the whirlwind of conversation, dashing between groups with that effortless charm that had everyone wanting a piece of you.

And you had forgotten about him.

Not on purpose. Heavens no! He knew you weren't the type to ignore him deliberately, but it didn’t make the aching in his chest any less suffocating. You had promised you’d stick close, knowing full well that he wasn’t the party type, but here you were—completely absorbed, completely unaware of the fact that he was starving for her attention.

His jaw clenched as he watched another guy—someone you had just met tonight, some fucking stranger—lean in close, laughing at something you said. Too close. A hand on your arm, lingering for a second longer than necessary, a touch you didn’t even react to because you were too lost in conversation.

And Choso was spiraling.

His grip on the cup tightened, his breath becoming too heavy. It wasn’t your fault. You're friendly. Warm. The kind of person people gravitated toward. He knew that.

But that didn’t mean he could handle watching someone else touch what was his.

It wasn’t fair.

You had spent the entire night lost in laughter, your eyes sparkling as you shared sweet smiles and warmth with friends. Each moment you gave them felt like a dagger to him, a reminder of his isolation.

Where was his place in all of this?

As he watched you, a fierce wave of possessiveness surged within him, a first instinct igniting beneath his skin. His heart raced, a throbbing drum that echoed with every laugh you directed toward someone else. The tight knot in his stomach twisted tighter, a suffocating weight pressing down on him. It felt unbearable—an unsettling mix of desire and jealousy that made him restless, hot, and agitated.

You were his, or you should be. The way you leaned into their jokes, the way your laughter rang out—it was as if you were giving pieces of yourself away. He wanted to yell, to pull you back, to remind you of the spark you two shared, the warmth that belonged to him alone.

He was desperate.

For you.

For your warmth, for your touch, for the way you looked at him when it was just the two of you.

And you weren’t even fucking looking at him.

His breath hitched. He needed you now.

Not later. Not when the party started to die down, not when you had finally had your fill of socializing and remembered that he was here, waiting like a fool.

Now.

So before he could stop himself, he moved.

His drink was abandoned on the counter as he cut through the crowd, shouldering past bodies, his steps slow but deliberate. His patience was gone.

You didn’t notice him until he was right beside you until his fingers curled around your wrist, firm, unyielding.

You blinked up at him, surprised. “Choso?”

He stood there in silence, a heavy weight pressing down on his chest as it rose and fell in a rapid motion. His stomach twisted painfully, an unrelenting ache that gnawed at him, fueled by an overwhelming sense of need that had taken root deep within. His focus narrows to the intense feelings brewing inside him, making words feel impossible to form. Instead, he just pulled you in.

You gasped softly at the suddenness of it, nearly slipping into his chest.

“What are you—”

“Come with me.”

His voice was low, rough, almost pleading.

Your brows furrowed, lips parting in confusion. “Wait, I was just—”

“Please, baby.”

And that made you freeze.

Because Choso never begged.

Your gaze flickered over his face—his tense jaw, the way his pupils were blown, the way his fingers twitched against her skin like he was holding himself back from grabbing her, dragging her away.

Slowly, realization dawned.

oh.

He had been waiting all night.

You had left him steaming, aching, drowning in some quiet storm of jealousy and want that she hadn’t even noticed building up inside him.

A slow, heated smile tugged at her lips.

“Alright,” she murmured, voice suddenly soft, indulgent.

You had let him pull you through the house, out of the suffocating crowd, down a dark hallway.

And the second they were alone, the door barely even closed behind them—

His hand was on your neck.

Your breath caught.

Not tight. Not rough. Just firm enough to make you feel held. His thumb grazed your jaw, lifting your chin and compelling you to lock eyes with him.

And damn, he looked utterly undone.

Dark eyes widened, breath catching in his throat, lips slightly parted in anticipation.

“You left me,” he whispered.

Your stomach flipped.

“I—”

“You left me all night.”

The air was heavy with tension, a charged silence that felt as though it held its breath, waiting. His other hand gripped her waist, pulling your flush against him, pressing you against the wall, holding you there like he was afraid you’d disappear again.

Your pulse fluttered against his fingers, a frantic drumbeat that echoed the storm seething within him. “I didn’t mean to,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Choso exhaled sharply through his nose, frustration clawing at him. It wasn’t you he was angry with; it was himself, at the way he couldn’t handle being ignored, at the way his chest ached for you in a way that made him feel pathetic.

But fuck it.

He was past pride.

“I missed you.” His lips crashed into yours.

Starving. Possessive.

He devoured you, the kiss deep and desperate, teeth grazing your bottom lip, tongue pushing past the hem of your mouth, taking.

A soft whine slipped from your throat, and fuck, it only made him hungrier.

His fingers tightened around your neck, his other hand slipping beneath the hem of your dress, gripping your thigh, pulling you up.

You gasped against his mouth, and he swallowed it, pressing deeper, rolling his hips against yours, letting you feel how much he had been suffering.

you whimpered softly, fingers threading through his hair, tugging—finally, finally touching him.

And he nearly lost it.

“Mine,” he whispered against your lips, voice raw, shaking.

you shivered, breathless. “Yours.”

That was all he needed.

Because you were his.

And he wasn’t letting you forget it again.

©sakuraszn! xoxo

[one-green-frog]

Just read part 2 of family knows best (So good btw!) and if it’s not a problem wanted to ask? Request? About if the reactions of the Batfam if the reader wanted to be left alone. Thanks in advance wither you do it or not.

I loved this idea and immediately started writimg something. Thanks for requesting and i hope you enjoy.

Smothered

Platonic yandere batfam x m!reader

Your life would never be the same

Ever since the Wayne family laid their eyes on you, they were non-stop by your side. Suffocating, crushing you under the weight of their attention. For some people this would be a dream come true, but for you this was your personal hell.

It wasn't because your were shy, or had social anxiety or had trouble making friends, you just did not want their attention, you just wanted to be left alone. Enjoy the silence, the solitude without anyone disturbing it.

The worst part- you couldn't do anything about it. Sure living in the manor was very nice and you were thankful that at least the butler had some sense of privacy, but the rest of them probably didn’t even know that word.

You didn't really have a say in the matter of your stay, they would always appear just as you were about to leave the manor, as if they were watching you. As soon as you touched a door knob one of them would appear, be It Bruce, his kids or even the butler.There was no escape in sight, so trying to stay in your room all day seemed to be your only option.

But it seems as if a higher being just wanted to torture you. Dick would usually just barge into you room and announce "sibling time" as if it was a grant event, while you just glared at him. He is a big brother so you know that he feels responsible for keeping the family, especially the siblings, together and as the new part of the family, he probably felt like he had to be extra affectionate to you. Make you feel welcome with open arms, as if they did not force you to be here. He'd just drag you around, acting as if you were just another one of his siblings, treating you as if you too were enjoying the time spent together.

The others aren't better. You tried, really hard too, to get them to leave you alone, but as if a sickness fell all over them and they couldn't stop.

Jason built-like-a-tank Todd would always ramble about new books he read and he wouldn't stop. You tried to just walk away leave the room, get him to stop, speak over him, but he was persistent. He followed you around, ignoring the fact that you were hardly listening, too focused on glaring at him with all you hate. He knew you weren't listening, but did he care? No. The time was still spent with you, still in your presence and that seemed to be enough for him, just talking at you. Closed doors? Please, that won't keep him out for even a second.

The only "escape" was telling Jason about a new book you read. You knew he would listen, so if you fabricated a story about a book you read to get him off of you, then so be it. Jason would almost immediately walk towards the library, trying to "catch up" so you two could discuss it. Like a dog chasin a stick, he took of to the library, taking the chance to get closer to you.

Then there is Tim. God, even if he wasn’t physically there, you knew he was watching.

Hell, he had Microphones and Cameras in your room before you begged Alfred to tell him to remove them. It wasn't easy and you had to sacrifice some of your time.Tim loved taking pictures of you, be it with a digital camera or a Polaroid one, he just loved to capture every minute of you two being together. The deal was that Tim would remove every device he planted in your room and in exchange he got to take pictures of you during a specific amount of time. It wasn't perfect, but in the end, this was the only way to feel kind of safe in your room again. This meant that you only had to spent a certain amount of time with him while he could take his creepy photos of you, at least he would leave you alone for the rest of the day. However, there was always that uncomfortable feeling you got from him while he looked at you through the camera.

Duke Thomas was seen as the light of them family, but to you he probably resembled a swallowing shadow. He too was always around, but finding a way to "escape" him was probably the hardest. He could switch from topic to topic, always finding another interesting new fact to talk about. The only time you were sure you wouldn't keep talking is when the grandfather clock struck ten p.m. Alfred always came into your room to make sure you would get enough sleep, and no one would ever get in the way of that.

Sometimes you were lucky enough to come up with a "reasonable" excuse, something along the lines of "having promised to spent time with another sibling". Since time spent with you was premium, the siblings agreed that no one was allowed to disturb another and luckily for you, due to the hectic life of the Wayne's, there weren't set times for each sibling.

The youngest Wayne, Damian, was... okay? Sure, he was clingy, more physical than others, but he usually spent his time with you in the barn, where they kept the animals. It wasn’t the alone time you wanted but it was the only semi-alone time you would get. Damian wasn't overly talkative, a few one-sided conversation, but otherwise he was focused on you, not great but at least no overly enthusiastic talking. Another plus was the animals. Alfred the cat usually set up camp in your lap, purring like an engine while you pet him, by this time batcow was usually laid right behind you so you could lean against it. The other animals joined them around you as if sensing you exhaustion. Honestly wasn't so bad, excluding the child staring at you like you owed him your soul.

And finally there is Bruce Wayne. The Master of the family, the one that brought you here. You especially hated spending time with him, because of the way he looked at you, as if he were proud of you, it made your skin crawl. Bruce, surprisingly, loved spending any sort of meal with you, be it breakfast or supper, he loved spending it sitting opposite of you. You wished you could just take the food up to your room, but unfortunately Alfred forbade it and saying no to the butler was never going to happen. So you stayed at the table while Bruce held conversations with you, spanning from "how was your day?" to "we should spend more time together as family, its lovely." Just bullshit conversion as you try to enjoy your food. The only saving grace was Alfred the butler, who was adamant that conversations were held before and after the meals, since they had to be enjoyed while hot. Unfortunately escaping Bruce wasn't as easy, as he would guilt you into staying. It was complicated, you really just wanted to be left alone and yet being actually mean to any of them just felt wrong and just straight up leaving the table while Bruce talked so passionately also gnawed at your conscience. Especially when Alfred wouldsit with you two at the table, pouring a cup of tea for everyone. You knew that this was downtime for him. He deserved a break and you knew, that the only reason he took one was because of you. So you stayed, enjoying the tea, even if it was only because you felt guilty.

They knew that you hated spending time with them, that you wanted to be left alone, spend time in your room with no one else, just enjoy the silence. The way you recoiled at their touch, glared at them and just rolled your eyes whenever they started to speak, it hurt them. They knew what you thought of them and they felt bad, they really did, but could you really blame them?

To them you were just too precious, too important to be left alone, they had no other choice. It was for you best, really! Can't you see that it's all for your health and safety? Being alone all the time was bad for you so if they had to "bother" to keep you save then there was no other way. With time you would understand that in reality it was all just love. Endless love just for you.

Tihihi i love writing for batfam so much! Please don't be afraid to request!

Taglist: @lilyalone

[yurinaa-world]

Can we get another part of body swap? This time with Dan Heng, Boothill, Aventurine and Jiaoqiu

2#—"𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝒷𝑜𝒹𝓎?!"

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Dan Heng, Boothill, Aventurine & Jiaoqiu x Gender-Neutral reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Body Swap?!

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, & Spelling Mistakes

💫Part one: 💫"𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝒷𝑜𝒹𝓎?!" (with Sampo, Jing Yuan, Ratio & Gepard)

💫𝒟𝒶𝓃 𝐻𝑒𝓃𝑔 "𝐼𝓂𝒷𝒾𝒷𝒾𝓉𝑜𝓇 𝐿𝓊𝓃𝒶𝑒"

“Why are getting so close?!”

If anyone saw the two of you like this, you would think Dan Heng was a gentleman on the outside (of course he always is) and on the inside, he’s so handsy, it looked like was about to eat you alive—your chest against his own

Dan Heng’s voice—your voice—comes out in a startled yelp, eyes widening as you lean in, crowding into his space. If anyone saw the two of you like this, they’d think Dan Heng was the type to pin people against the wall—all tall. But in reality, you are the one doing it, under the idea that your idea of trying to “help”

“Come on, that’s how they do it in shows and books, they switch back after a kiss,” Whatever you rambling on about makes him question if you're even taking this seriously!? 

“One tiny kiss? It might do something.” 

How can you be so cheeky? You make his heart race even in your body, just the way you talk makes you very different from him. 

“You’re insane,” he mutters, his voice—your voice—tinged with disbelief.

But even as he says it, his eyes linger on you, watching as you get even closer, ignoring all the space between you. His breath comes a little quicker, the proximity messing with his focus. Why does it feel so… different with you in his body? Why is it that the moment your eyes meet, his heart starts to race, like a traitor?

“I’m serious,” you press, your voice playful, but there’s something daring in it, too. “You never know. One kiss might just do the trick.”

You lean in, your lips brushing against his for just a second. The moment it happens, everything goes still. He pulls back, eyes wide, his breath shaky.

“That didn’t do anything."

💫𝐵𝑜𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓁𝓁 "𝑀𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒢𝒶𝓁𝒶𝓍𝓎 𝑅𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇𝓈"

He loves your body so much, so warm and fuzzy, like the feeling of a blanket coming out from a dryer and wrapping yourself in its warmth. He absolutely loved the feeling. 

(You weren’t so bad off as well, even though you were wearing clothes that he would never wear in his own body, finding his original outfit too much for you.)

He wants to feel you in your body, wrapping his—your—arms around your waist, the cold metallic making him shiver. Was his body really that cold? Well, if he keeps his body against yours long enough, the body heat transfers to the metal.

He hums in satisfaction, pressing himself—yourself—closer, soaking in every bit of warmth that seeps into his usually frigid body. The contrast is startling, the way the heat lingers against the metal.

“…so warm," he murmurs, voice hushed, like he's afraid acknowledging it too much will make it disappear—even though the only warmth is coming from his own body onto the metal if yours. His fingers trail absentmindedly over your arms, your waist, feeling the way your body moves with each breath. 

 He never realized just how much sensation his body lacked until now. The coldness he had grown so used to, his face being the only thing he could actually (sometimes) feel.

"...So this is what it’s like," he breathes, barely audible. A strange, wistful longing settles in his voice, something he doesn’t fully understand himself. 

He misses being human.

💫𝒜𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑒 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝑒𝓃𝒾𝑜𝓇 𝑀𝒶𝓃𝒶𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝐼𝒫𝒞 𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓉𝑒𝑔𝒾𝒸 𝐼𝓃𝓋𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒟𝑒𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉"

Why are we here?! Seriously! What are you thinking?!” 

He’s always the one bringing you to places like this, but now that you’ve switched bodies, it’s hard to ignore the looks you’re getting. You face being the one thats winning, the one on a hot streak, while you just sit there, looking nervous and out of place. 

“You’re making it way too obvious, enjoy yourself, it’s fun robbing all these fools blind.” Aventurine smiled gleefully while raking around a basket of chips and throwing them on the table. 

“Really? I rather just sit and have my fun over here.” you see him looking to the side—probably another game catching his interest, which inevitably leads him to join in to have his share of fun. Which was not what got him so focused on, you before grinning at you—it was a smile of pure mischief on his lips—you got a front-row seat of that look while immediately jumped on top of your lap.

You freeze, the weight of his sudden move pressing down on you. His grin widens as he settles, his hands resting on your shoulders, fingers casually brushing your neck.

“What are you doing!?”

“Those girls were staring at you, I couldn’t help but get jealous.”

Ugh! Why does he have to act this in your body, like some needy lover who wants attention?

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you mutter under your breath, trying to push him off, but it’s like he’s made himself comfortable, leaning into you with that damn mischievous smile. “They like your face, not me.”

“Oh, they like this face, alright,” he says with a teasing chuckle, poking at your chest, “but they can’t have you, since we’re together.”

💫𝒥𝒾𝒶𝑜𝓆𝒾𝓊 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒳𝒾𝒶𝓃𝓏𝒽𝑜𝓊 𝒴𝒶𝑜𝓆𝒾𝓃𝑔"

What an unusual expression, it doesn’t suit his face at all. The same goes for him in your body. From the outside, it looks funny—it’s like you two have changed places, which isn’t exactly wrong.

But right now, no one would tell it feels a bit weird! The orange colour tail doesn’t stop moving for a second, it makes you feel uncomfortable, and it always moves around, which somehow just leaves you restless the orange ears on the top of your head are like losing a tooth as a child—you can’t help but take notice and touch the ears that weight on your years.

Jiaoqiu on the other hand seems to fairing far better than you—honestly, without his tail and ears you thought he be worse off, but no, he seems to be enjoying himself in your body, mostly relishing in it.

You, on the other hand, have been groaning and complaining, while holding down the orange tail to stop it from moving, it made you extremely restless. He had soothed you somehow—you are in his body after, watching you in pain isn’t what he wants.

Which is how you wound up here, laying in your lap is his body—it’s weird yet desperation is how you got here—his hand lands on the top of your head, gently patting and running his hands through the long orange hair.

“You’re tense,” Jiaoqiu mutters, his tone somewhere between amused and exasperated.

“I wonder why,” you grumble, but the bite in your voice is weaker now. The twitching of your ears has lessened, and your tail no longer flicks about wildly like it has a mind of its own. You can still feel it, still notice every little shift and movement, but the overwhelming restlessness from before has dulled.

Jiaoqiu huffs a small laugh, continuing his slow, rhythmic petting. “See? Not so bad when you stop fighting it.”

It's stupid how you feel your face burn up a little, it’s so stupid and slightly embarrassing.

So stupid, that tail starts flailing around.

Which makes Jiaoqiu snicker, clearly noticing the way your tail betrays you. "Ah, there it is again," he teases, his fingers lazily brushing over your scalp.

"You sure you’re not enjoying this a little too much? I thought you were calming down, instead, I’ve got you all railed up."

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[moon-ttokki-x]

hiii baby!!! I love your work and this is like my first request I’ve sent to anyone at all 😭 but could you do 28 and 7 for Minho ^^ tysm!!

hihi cutie~ i've actually had both of these prompts before so i got better at writing them hehe. also amogus divider bc why tf not

keychain - bf!lee minho x reader

pairing: bf!lee know x reader

summary: you fight with minho and he comes back to make things right.

genre: non-idol! au, pretty angst, soonie doongie dori honourable mention, comfort, fluffy ending, soft minho

a/n: so i started listening to lana del rey and i wrote this to 'sad girl' also div by @si-eunnis

⛓️ prompts: 7. "I'm glad you're here." / 28. "You're looking at me like that again."

skz prompt list | skz masterlist

You toss another dirty tissue across the countertop, sniffing as you watch it come to rest at the very edge, teetering. Leaning your cheek against the cold, marbled surface, you sigh and let the sharp feeling seep through your pores like iced water.

It does little to soothe the current puffy redness of your cheeks; how long have you been sitting here, crying? The golden hanging lights that frame the kitchen have made your hair warm to the touch, their beams caressing the messy state of it, and your back feels numb and achy from the awkward position you've been slumped in since Minho stormed out of the apartment. You sigh.

You don't even remember what you were fighting about.

Each exhale feels like it's been punched out of you as you relive the events of the past hour; him coming home, both of you tired and irritable, and then fighting over the pettiest thing that you don't even remember anymore.

Then he left.

You're not sure if he's coming back; he didn't take anything but his phone, which had been in his pocket as soon as he came in, and his work bag, which is still smashed against the wall where he'd dropped it with a sigh on coming home.

You can't fight a weak smile at the habit; you've installed multiple hooks along the wall so he can hang his bag up when he gets home, but every time you did, he'd always just drop it on the floor anyway, kicking off his shoes at the door.

And you'd smile and gesture at the hooks, but he'd just ignore them, kissing your fed-up expression off your face with a gentle mouth and squeezing your shoulder with a warm, solid hand.

The way he always does.

You look at those hooks now; one of the cats' collars is hanging off them, and several other items like hair ties and rings of keys adorn the others. You came into the kitchen one day and saw Minho hanging a cat toy from the hook nearest to the door so that, when he wasn't home, the cats would be able to play. Dori sits there now, batting with fluffy white paws at the feathers and bells on the string.

Ding, ding. Ding.

You're not sure why you're thinking of such things; surely anyone in your current situation would incessantly cry their eyes out, wailing at the mistake of fighting with their partner, instead of thinking about plastic wall hooks and under-stimulated cats.

You're so distracted that you don't even notice the apartment door open again, so slowly that it takes about half a minute for Minho to actually step inside.

He's soaked.

The smell of the night rain that he brings with him is suddenly so prominent inside the still air of the apartment that it's what makes you look up.

"Minho," you whisper, eyes red and puffy. You scrub a hand across your face, the skin stinging at the harsh treatment. You hadn't even heard the rain outside.

He doesn't look at you, just takes off his shoes, very deliberately. There's a little puddle of rainwater around his feet and you fight back an exhale as his socked feet meet the wet tiles. Dori immediately goes to nuzzle against his legs and then hisses at the unpleasant wetness of his owner's legs.

But Minho doesn't seem to notice, simply taking off layers until he's stood in his slacks and white work shirt, which is the only dry item of clothing he has on. He drops the rest of his clothes in a pile.

His eyes finally lift themselves to meet yours; the warmth in them is gone, replaced by something unreadable. A dull, heavy feeling settles in your gut, a sense of finality washing over your being. You know this is the moment that he'll say he wants to leave, that he just can't find it in himself to love you. He'll go to your shared room and start packing a suitcase, and take the cats with him, all while you wail and tug at his arms for him not to leave, please, Minho, don't leave-

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

Your gaze flits to his. Your voice is croaky, cracked, saturated with sadness. "What?"

He steps forward, ignoring the insistent mewing of Soonie and Doongie, who have just come into the room. "I'm sorry. I should have just left to clear my head and then came back, but I've been gone half the night."

You blink and look through tired eyes to the clock on the wall. It takes you a couple seconds to process the time. It's 1 am. Minho came home at 9 pm. You don't even know how many hours that is.

"How long were you walking in the rain?" You say, still whispering lest you scare him off again.

He shrugs. His mouth opens, like he wants to say something, but he's hesitant, like he's not sure how it will be received.

He speaks anyway. "I stalled for a while. I didn't know if you'd be here when I came back..." His fingers twist in the slightly damp material of his white shirt, fidgeting.

Your indignance suddenly takes over your upset state and you sit up straighter. "I would have waited all night for you, Minho. I wasn't going to leave..."

"I know," he says solemnly, and then quietly, "I'm glad you're here."

You nod and slowly slide off the chair you've been slumped in, disturbing a few of the tissues scattered across the countertop. "I'm sorry too, Min. I shouldn't have kept the argument going."

He shakes his head. "We were both tired. It happens."

You both stand in silence for a minute, neither one of you sure how to continue the conversation. It's almost awkward until Minho steps forward, taking out something from his pocket. He shyly holds it out.

You take a small step forward and take the small item from him. Unfolding your fingers from around it, you blink through unshed tears to see a small keychain resting in the palm of your hand. It's a little cat with its mouth open, its fur pattern like Soonie's, but grey instead of ginger. There's another attachment of a pink peach, and the clip keyring attachment is shaped like a heart.

You look up at Minho. His face is red. You remember suddenly that he's quite shy when it comes to giving things to people, and you can't fight the urge to throw yourself into his arms.

This little keychain is Minho's apology.

His skin is cold, damp from the rain, and the collar of his shirt is wet from the rain, but you hold him close anyway. You wrap your arms around his middle, squeezing your eyes shut. He's almost fetched up against the wall from how hard you threw yourself at him, but his arms find their familiar place around your shoulders.

You pull back slightly, gazing up at him. As if he wasn't soaked enough, your tears have left two patches on his chest, but he doesn't seem to mind.

"You're looking at me like that again." Minho says quietly.

You hum, a tear spilling down your cheek. "Looking at you like what?"

You see his throat bob, swallow hard. You can feel the constant thrum of his heart through the damp fabric of his shirt.

Minho gulps. "You always look at me like than when- when-"

"When I say I love you?" You finish for him.

Minho nods inaudibly, the movement of his head so small you almost don't see it at all. You smile, tilting your head at him, the tears beginning to slow.

You both stand there for who knows how long, clinging to each other, trapping between your bodies the smell of rain and fade cologne. Finally, Minho talks.

"I love you too."

a/n: this was way too long

[callsign-rogueone]

vigil

Sawyer Henrick x reader (Peach!) words: 2.0k 🏷️: end of iron flame spoilers — our poor boy 🥺 time skip, so they’re back at the school now. descriptions of his injury, mentions of intrusive thoughts / ocd, Ridoc being the sweetest and looking out for his bestie’s girl <3 here marks the end of iron flame for them!! future chapters will have spoilers for onyx storm, whenever I get around to finishing it.

“Come back to me,” you whisper into the collar of his flight jacket. “Please.”

His lips brush against your temple as he speaks. “Always. I will always come back to you.”

You linger there a moment, knowing that this may be the last time you’ll ever hold each other. You aren’t ready to let go. You probably won’t ever be. How many times will you relive this moment? Will it ever hurt any less, or get any easier?

It shouldn’t, really. 

“Hey,” he says softly, pulling back and tilting your chin up to look at him, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “I’ll be okay. We all will.”

You nod, trying to convince yourself that he’s right. He and his friends will stick together -- and they’re all powerful. They can fight whatever’s out there, and win. That’s what they’ve been preparing for this whole time.

“I love you,” you manage, swallowing the rest of your tears.

He drops a kiss to your forehead. “I love you too. I’ll find you when it’s over, okay?”

Another nod.

You don’t know what else to say. There are no words for this situation, nothing that will make this situation any better for either of you.

You stand there another moment, trying to commit the sight of the other person to memory: how the first light of day brings out the red in his hair, the hilt of the sword he wears across his back, and the grooves he made there that fit his hands perfectly, the flight goggles perched on the top of his head… the pale blue of your healer’s robes and how they contrast against your skin, the flower necklace that peeks out from the collar, and the tidy hairstyle you default to every day…

He’s the first to turn away.

It’s agonizing to watch him leave, but it may very well be the last time you see him — so you stand there, until he crosses the bridge back into his quadrant and slips into a crowd of identically dressed riders, out of reach and out of sight.

All you can do for him now is pray. You close your eyes, beginning a silent plea to Amari and her husband — that’s interrupted by a familiar, but irritating voice.

“Look what the cat dragged in.”

You freeze, turning to see Helen, one of the senior healers, who for some reason absolutely despises you. “Ma’am,” you begin, unsure how to continue.

“Is this profession a joke to you?”

“No, of course not,” you answer. “I…”

“Disappearing for a month without as much as a note, leaving all your responsibilities and schoolwork behind to go chase after a boy? If it was up to me, and we didn’t need all hands on deck today, you’d be leaving this infirmary in shackles.”

How the fuck are you supposed to respond to that? Does she want you to beg her to forgive you, or is she content to watch you blink at her like this, too stunned to form words?

“Lowen! I need you.”

You look at her another moment before you come back to your senses, looking in the direction of the voice. “Coming!”

You round the corner, squeaking in surprise when you’re tugged into a supply closet.  

Sarah.

You wrap her in a tight hug, taking a moment to breathe. You hadn’t been too worried about anyone at Basgiath, who were still under the wards, but it’s a relief to see her again after not hearing from her for a month.

“I’m so glad you’re alive,” she whispers. 

“Helen isn’t.”

She laughs. “I swear, she got even worse after you left. I still think you’re absolutely insane for that, by the way.”

“I know,” you answer. “You’ve told me that a few times.”

“Alright. Help me carry these boxes?”

Over the next hour, the already-somber infirmary grows even quieter, as everyone realizes that everything is ready — the beds made up, bandages prepared, surgical tools cleaned… You’ve done all you can do. 

Now you just have to wait.

————————

“I need all hands!” someone calls, and you drop the towels you’ve been folding to turn to the door. 

It doesn’t take you more than a second to realize that the person they’re wheeling in is Sawyer. As soon as you catch a glimpse of his rain-soaked hair, you know.

His eyes are closed, his head lolled onto his shoulder — he’s unconscious, completely limp. You finally tear your eyes away from his face, your heart nearly stopping when you realize why he’s here: half of his left leg is just gone. 

Someone had tied a tourniquet around his thigh, but it’s not enough to stop the seemingly endless flow of blood. The life is pouring out of him, spilling onto the floor and staining it red, and all you can do is stand there and watch. Your boots are stuck to the stone beneath you, your eyes fixed on the shredded muscle and exposed bone, the things you aren’t supposed to see outside of your textbooks. 

You’ve never flinched at any cuts or broken bones, never hesitated to fall into place beside your mother when the neighbors came knocking after farming accidents — none of it ever fazed you. 

But it’s never been him.

“Lo,” someone says softly, a hand settling on your arm, “if you can’t…”

“I can,” you interrupt, “and I will.”

——————

“You should get some sleep, P.”

It takes you a second to place the voice as Ridoc’s. You shake your head, not looking up. “I can’t take my eyes off of him.”

“He’s gonna be okay,” he says softly. “That tourniquet you gave him saved his life, y’know. Violet tied it for him, as soon as she could.”

You’re quiet for a moment, unsure how to explain yourself. “I know he should pull through, I just… I have this thing, that I’ve had since I was a child. I’ll have a terrible thought, and I try brushing it off or forgetting about it like a normal person would, but I can’t. It sticks to me, and I have to prevent it from happening by holding my breath or washing my hands or saying a prayer or something. And right now, my mind is telling me if I look away, even for a moment… I know deep down that’s not how it works, but I can’t risk it this time. I won’t. Not when it’s him.”

“I understand,” he says softly. “If I brought you food, would you eat?”

Another shake no. You haven’t had any appetite since this morning, knowing what could happen — what did happen. 

“Water, at least?”

“Okay,” you whisper.

“Attagirl. I’ll be back.”

A minute later, Ridoc steps into your peripheral vision, careful not to obscure your view of Sawyer as he extends a cup of water toward you. 

Slowly, hesitantly, you let go of Sawyer’s hand, setting it down on the bed and waiting for the worst, but he doesn’t stir, doesn’t show any reaction to the movement. You don’t know if that’s good or bad. It’s both, really; a sign that the sedation is working, but also that he isn’t going to wake up any time soon. 

He might not ever.

You reach up to take it, inhaling sharply at the sight of your sleeve. The pale blue fabric is spotted with rusty brown patches — Sawyer’s blood. You’d scrubbed it off your hands, but it’s still stuck to you, staining your clothes and lining your fingernails. No amount of cold, soapy water would get it out.

Water. Right.

You take a slow sip, realizing how parched you are. The rest of the cup goes down easily, and your voice doesn’t sound as raspy as you speak again. “Thank you,” you whisper.

Ridoc takes it back from you, settling into a chair in your line of sight — on the opposite side of the bed. “How are you holding up? I know it must have been hard, seeing… that.”

“It usually isn’t,” you answer. “But it usually isn’t him.”

He nods, silent for a moment. “Everyone else is safe. Nothing serious.”

“S’ good,” you say quietly. 

Another short silence — just the distant sounds of the infirmary, which has slowed significantly since this morning. Most of the beds are full, if not all of them, but everyone’s been attended to, wounds bandaged and bones set. 

“I’ll be fine,” you say again, trying to convince the both of you that you mean it. “Go be with your girl.”

Ridoc looks at you a moment, thinking about it, before he rises from his chair, leaning down to brush his lips against Sawyer’s temple. “See you tomorrow, dude. Love you.”

You smile for the first time in twelve hours.

Sawyer stirs, his hand moving against yours, and your heart jumps. You and Ridoc both hold your breath, waiting. 

“Peach?” he murmurs.

“Right here,” you answer, squeezing his hand gently.

“S’good,” he mumbles in reply, his eyes still closed — still working off the double dose of sedatives you’d had to give him to keep the pain at bay. “Was worried about you.”

You manage a laugh. Of course he worried about you, even when you’d been safe indoors for the whole battle. You bring your other hand up to brush the hair from his eyes, stroking the backs of your fingers over his cheek. “I’m okay, sweet boy. Get some sleep. I’ll be here when you wake.”

He hums a soft acknowledgment, settling deeper into the blankets. 

Ridoc gives you a gentle half-hug before he slips away, headed back to the rider’s quadrant. 

You take a fresh look at Sawyer, with a healer’s eyes, comforted by what you see: some of the color has returned to his face, and his skin is warm against yours, both good signs that he’s coping with the blood loss. You move your hand down to check his pulse — it’s steady against your fingers, if a little slow. His breaths are even, the bleeding has stopped… he’s out of the woods, sleeping soundly with the help of the heavy dose of pain-reliever.

You turn your gaze toward the window, out into the night sky. “Thank you,” you whisper to the stars. “Thank you.”

You could swear you feel the fleeting touch of a warm hand on your shoulder, but Ridoc has already left. You must be more sleep deprived than you’d thought. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to rest your eyes for a little while, now that Sawyer is conscious again.

You toe off your boots, tucking your legs underneath you and getting as comfortable as you can in the hard wooden chair, resting your head on the edge of the mattress.

You wake to the warm orange light of sunrise, and a gentle hand stroking your hair.

“You should have woken me up earlier,” you chide gently, fighting a yawn, but the sleepiness fades quickly as you realize he’s awake — and he likely has been for a while, judging by the way he’s managed to prop himself upright.

“You needed the sleep,” he says softly, his voice dry and scratchy. “And you looked too peaceful to wake.”

You sit up, ignoring the stiffness in your neck from sleeping in that terrible position, and turn to look at him. “How much do you remember?” you ask in a whisper, taking his hand gently. You look scared, those pretty eyes wet with tears and softened with concern.

“All of it, I think. Are you okay?” he asks softly, squeezing your hand.

You clear your throat, embarrassed that you’re the one crying right now. “Of course I am, why…”

“Is my squad okay?”

You nod — Ridoc had assured you last night that the others were all present and accounted for. 

“Then I’m okay.”

You exhale, more tears slipping down your cheeks. 

“I had to keep my promise,” he says, managing a smile. “I couldn't leave you behind again.”

You rest your forehead against his, closing your eyes. “I love you, Sy,” you whisper. “To the ends of the earth.”

“And I love you, sweet girl. To the South star and back.”

“To the South star and back,” you agree, your voice cracking with emotion.

He brings a hand up to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “We’ll be okay,” he promises. “As long as we have each other, we’ll be okay.”

[kabr0ztrousers]

Can we get another hucow with some minotaur/bull hybrid action?

(Heavy on the pet play, pretty please!!)

Loving this challenge series, keep up the good fight!

Hucows and minotaurs? Two of my favourite subjects (as I'm sure you've all noticed)

Kabr0z Writes episode 46: Another day in the fields

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

This story loosely follows episode 34 - it's not required reading, but it is added context

CWs: enthusiastic consent; petplay; power imbalance; hucows; impregnation; heat cycle; forced creampie; breeding; belly-riding; cockwarming; public sex;

A/N: There's 16 asks in the box right now, so those of you who have submitted please don't lose faith! Also, do asks occasionally change their order in the inbox? I'm sure I'm seeing stuff in the middle of the pack I don't remember 😄 If things get a little whacky with the queue, I apologise

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It's been a year since you joined the herd. Since then you'd settled in with the girls, enjoying your daily milking, lazing in the fields, chewing the cud. Your body had changed too, you weren't trim or fit when you joined, but you never lost the baby weight from your child Aaron put in you when you joined his herd. You'd given birth a few months ago, your daughter joining the herd with you, but now your empty womb wants more.

The barn doors opened and Aaron entered, working from one end of the barn to the other, attaching the machinery to cow after cow. The women's soft mooing filling the barn. You knew how he worked, always snaking the same path through the barn so nobody was ever missed. You'd made sure you'd be one of the first, you didn't want anyone getting to him first, after all.

Aaron's huge hands stroked your hair, his big eyes looking into yours. You stroked his muzzle, eyes scanning his face, the gold ring in his nose, his long curving horns, before sliding down past his broad chest to the noticeable bulge in his jeans.

You relaxed under his touch, nuzzling up to his chest, one hand sliding up his leg

"Do you want something, girl?" He kept stroking, slipping a finger into your mouth, which you gently sucked on "Have you been a good girl?"

You nodded, his finger still in your mouth as you rubbed his crotch through his jeans

"Prove it, girl, be a good girl for me"

You opened his jeans, tugging them down to his knees and exposing his sheath. The end of his cock is poking out and drooling a little precum, a strand running from his tip to the front of his boxers. You stuck out your tongue, licking the sweet fluid from him, feeling his cock twitch as you did. Rubbing his sheath, you took the end of his cock in your mouth

"That's it, girl, that's it" His cock is growing rapidly, getting as long as your forearm. You can only get the very end in your mouth as you tease it with your tongue, wrapping your huge tits around it to rub the shaft.

He was grunting more and more. His cock pops out of your mouth, splattering your face with sticky precum. You want to taste his cum so badly, to drink it down like wine, but there's always going to be more.

You lie back, grabbing one of his horns as you roll. He lets himself be dragged down to you, looming over you on his hands and knees, the tip of him parting the lips of your leaking pussy

"Someone's a needy girl, huh, does my favourite cow want a present?"

You mooed and nodded, pushing your hips up into him, feeling his cock almost penetrating you. His hand brushed your clit, making you whimper and twitch. He tasted his finger, eyes closing in satisfaction "mmm, tastes like you're ready"

He locked eyes with you as he eased himself in, filling you up as you bucked against him, fucking yourself with his cock. He moved slowly, enjoying the tight wetness of your cunt as you used it to jack him off. He hit your cervix, but you knew how to get him deeper. Your hands close around his horns and you wrap your legs around him, using the extra leverage to pull your pelvis up to his, slipping his cock deeper inside.

He sighed as he hilted in you, before starting to thrust like a piledriver. Long, slow, deliberate, he's taking his time, enjoying every inch as he pulls out, then forces himself back inside. He sped up his strokes, driving himself into you. A long moan escapes you as you cum around him, legs holding him in as you tense and squeeze his cock, kissing his muzzle as your blissed-out head spins. His hands are around your waist, he rolls over, the motion forcing your legs to release him as he starts using your cunt, lifting you halfway off him before forcing you back down, again and again.

Your moaning and mooing is attracting attention, all the other cow-women in the barn are looking, many getting themselves off with their fingers, some eating out their fellows as the barn descends into an orgy.

Aaron holds you down, his cock throbbing and pulsing. A familiar warmth fills you, spreading out in your cunt, finally quenching the fire of your needy womb as the thick cum fills every corner of it. He gets up, still holding you to him, twitching cock still impaling you as he finishes attaching pumps to the other cows. You hold on to him as he moves, arms wrapped around his neck, legs hitched over his hips. You're a big lady now, but he still bears your weight like he did when you first met.

When all the other women are hooked up, milk flowing from their tits into the huge collection vat at the end of the barn, he finally pulls out of you. The huge flared end of his cock makes a lewd slurp as it comes free, glistening with both of your juices.

You know you're pregnant after that

And if not, you'll just try again tomorrow

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This one followed on from a previous episode, but I realised I never actually named Aaron in the body of that work, only the postscript!

Anyway, here's your regular reminder that you, yes you, can request basically anything you like as long as it's smut and I'll probably wind up making it! Limits are in the pinned, but beyond that it's all good! And don't feel shy, anon is anon, the worst I can do is not publish it, after all.

I don't shame, and I don't mock (mostly). I just write porn

(Disclaimer: I will shame and/or mock if requested)