#humble yourself to The Most High

[babythegod]

Dear Heavenly Father God, Mother Mary , Brother Jesus, The Holy Spirit in every incarnation and all other divine entities that work in our favor, please guide and protect us on our path to redemption, repentance and greatness. Only You can redeem us in spirit which always triumphs over flesh. Help us transmute this pain into power and give us enough strength to ascend past our worldly sins and receive true salvation. We are immensely talented and gifted, with such a bright light in our souls that must shine though. Real ones need each other at our best. Don’t let the darkness succeed. Keep us close, Lord. Cover us with Your armor of unwavering encouragement , wisdom and inspiration. Forevermore. So it is &so shall it be. Amen. ♥️

[curiosity-killed]

It is! Possible! That I may be being too hard on myself! Again!!!

[forsworned]

Simon has an OnlyFans. It wasn't something he necessarily kept a secret, but it wasn't something he shouted out on the rooftops for all to hear. Just the primal need for being seen while he fisted at his cock in various poses, most of which were requested by you. You who were an avid fan of his.

You really didn't remember how you found him. Maybe you were just absentmindedly scouring the internet for anything to turn you on while you were in the middle of a solo sesh, but either way, you stumbled upon his page. You wasted no time subscribing to the skull-masked man who humbly accepted your request to use a cock ring with a little ghost charm hanging at the end of it.

And his moans—don't even get me started. They're deep, guttural, sexy, and caveman-like and you're creaming at just the mere sound of it.

Truthfully, Simon doesn't even need the money. His price range only goes as high as $5, and for his VIPs, you get exclusive access to all his behind-the-scenes features, one of which includes all the times he mistakenly shoots his cum at his chin.

But it comes off as a shocker to you when its' one of those nights where no matter how many times you make yourself cum, it's not enough. You crave him. Crave to see the way those half-lidded onyx eyes stare down at the camera as he gets off between missions for a quickie.

It's enticing. He's fully clad in his uniform, but his hard, girthy horse cock is out for display. Green veins pulsate against his porcelain skin at his touch and you're squirming at the vibrating wand you place on your clit.

Ping!

Your in-app message notification pop up and you notice the small badge on the messages icon. Thinking it was merely something promotional, you ignore it, but a second ping disrupts your solo love-making session that has you squinting down at your phone.

Curiously, you tapped on the little envelope, tilting your head at the message before tapping on it again.

TacticalHeat: Hey, lovie. How are you doing? I see you've been enjoying my content for some time now. Would you be interested in a private call?xx

Your heart thrums against your chest as your jaw drops to the floor. There was no fuckin' way this was real. It had to be some chatbot or some sort of impersonator, but sure enough you click on the icon and it leads you straight back to the page you were just rubbin one out to.

"Fuck!" You breathe out, throwing your head back as your orgasm spills out of you. You hadn't even noticed the wand still buzzing against your sopping wet pussy, but it leaves you heaving and ready for the next round.

Your fingers hover over your keyboard and you search your mind to say something. It's not like you had a picture on your profile, nor your name, or even a real description on your bio. It was merely a clipart of Snoopy with headphones on bumping to music, a practical choice.

You: I'm good! I can do maybe tomorrow night?"

For some Godforsaken reason, you didn't want to seem to eager, but for what? You literally were messaging on fucking OnlyFans.

Ping!

Your heart drops to your ass at swiftness and the contents of the message.

TacticalHeat: How about now instead?

Part two is here!! 😜

masterlist

[brainstirfry]

REACTION SPEED [Heroic: failure] - a single ravioli, damp from the water, still pleasantly steaming, lands with a defeated slap, on the linoleum floor. You see it happen, watch it flip through the air, like an Olympic bronze off the high-dive, or a suicidal veteran of war. you feel yourself shout a "No!", but it is too late. there, the ravioli, impossibly, lays limp. FORSAKEN RAVIOLI - Why, it thinks, why me? For all the time I was grown and processed then crafted and for all the time I have waited for the only purpose which I was made for. To be cast so suddenly, so errantly, into the realm of the beyond? Beyond savior. DRAMA - And here you stand, clad like a captain with your wooden spoon, watching as an honorable soldier, nay, a man, lies without your hand to aid him, on the kitchen floor.

VOLITION - you must act, now! first it must be picked up, then its fate can be decided. COMPOSURE - Its fate is the trash. AUTHORITY - Its fate is the trash. YOU - You pick up the ravioli, it is hot, nearly still boiling, gushing steam and hot pasta blood down your hand. It hurts, but standing here, there is nowhere else for it. PERCEPTION - It looks fine... LOGIC - Don't do this. SHIVERS [Heroic: Success] - Somewhere southeast of here, perhaps hundreds of miles, grain sprouts in a field, rich wheat, and butternut squash, only an acre over. The wind whistles through the fields, running like gleeful children through the tiny, green plants. Some will be eaten by birds, worms, or moles, but some will reach high into the sky, where they will be plucked and ground into pasta dough. You have seen the birthplace of this soldier. It is humble, a beautiful childhood, and so, so long ago. An entire pasta-lifetime, now. FORSAKEN RAVIOLI - I thought I had finally made it. And with my brethren... YOU - You look at the bowl, the rest of the ravioli, steaming in mournful, pyrrhic celebration. My company... EMPATHY - This ravioli could be you. You can't give up on it now. Not because of your own mistake. AUTHORITY - This is not what a dignified man would do. send him off and mourn, perhaps, but do not spend one moment more considering his limp, cooling corpse. DRAMA - Where has your heart gone, O Honorable One? Authority - … EMPATHY - the greatest service you could do for this little soldier, and for all those beyond you that forged him, is to eat him. What else is rightfully to be done? VISUAL CALCULUS - It was on the floor for less than 4.7 whole seconds. ENCYLOPEDIA - most forms of bacterium are able to jump, especially to wet materials, in about 1.2- PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - any residue on your kitchen floor may well be material which was once already in your stomach. CONCEPTUALIZATION - if you think about it, that means you've already kind of eaten the ravioli.

INLAND EMPIRE - From the Floor, Of the Floor, To the Floor. To be, or not to be, one with this eternal cycle? ENDURANCE - Anything the floor could not contain, you could digest. (with VOLITION) We are iron. HALF LIGHT - Bite into its soft, warm flesh. EMPATHY - Give it peace. ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Eat the floor-violi, pasta slut! YOU - weeping, bring the ravioli to your lips, and then, impossibly, with infinite mercy, love, bring it into you. It tastes fantastic. You would have never know it was on the floor at all. You can feel the hum of satisfaction, the glory of it in your lungs, swelling to fill you more than even a pasta-feast could. This is the mercy you wish your God could cast on you, when you fall. KIM KITSURAGI - "Harry,"

[leejenowrld]

my first and last (m)

pairing lee jeno x reader

word count 37k

synopsis meet lee jeno, campus heartbreaker, fuckboy, secret nerd. he’s the notorious guy that everyone wants but he only wants you —a shy, introverted stranger who appeared from nowhere, turning his life upside down. what starts as a reputation-defying connection swiftly evolves from strangers to friends and to intense, immediate love. it’s a twist the two of you never saw coming, the opening of your hearts to someone unexpected. but as personal struggles and external issues threaten to derail your connection, the once-confident jeno is left shattered and ensnared in the tumult of a love story gone awry.

chapter warnings first love au, irrelevant exes, explicit language, swearing, mentions of intense anxiety, drugs, alcohol, your average college au, opposite of slow burn, fluff which will make you scream, romantic jeno, loving jeno, a jeno who doesn’t really gaf about anyone but his girl, sweet boyfriend jeno, bestie yeonjun, yn and jeno paired for a uni project, touchy jeno, oral sex (receiving), throat fucking, blow job, hard dom jeno, sub reader, soft dom jeno, choking, riding, most loving kisses, reader sits on jenos face hehe, cute sex under the starlight on jenos trunk, jeno who rips off lingerie, protective jeno, jeno is horny, and a lot, his emotions, heart are all 110%, rough sex, choking, dirty talk, cute dates, girls who are bitches to yn :(, a jeno who gets so heartbroken and done dirty you’ll feel bad! gift giving, romantic gestures bf jeno

genre smut, fluff, angst, strangers to friends to lovers, opposites attract

please leave asks !!

check out the mfal ml here includes text posts, never seen before scenes and behind the scenes content <;3

✧ ✧ ✧

Walking onto campus, you take in the sights of the renowned university. The buildings exude academic excellence, and the lush greenery adds a touch of serenity. Despite the early hour, the campus is alive with students hurrying by, creating a vibrant atmosphere.

Heading towards the director's office, you enter the building, sensing the prestige in the air. Portraits of distinguished alumni line the walls, and the marble-floored corridor echoes with the soft sounds of footsteps.

As you approach the director's office, you're called in for your meeting, and a wave of nervousness washes over you. You keep your head low, arms crossed over your body and walking steadily calculated. You instinctively avoid making prolonged eye contact with others, instead of maintaining a steady gaze, your eyes started to dart away, seeking solace in the periphery.

The director's office door swings open, revealing Johnny Suh, a figure synonymous with success in the academic world. Young, rich, and undeniably handsome, his reputation precedes him. Though you hadn't initially seen the appeal, you find yourself momentarily awestruck by his commanding presence, his handsomeness leaving you astonished.

He spent a few minutes welcoming you to the University, giving some background information and useful tips that you were incredibly thankful for. Then the conversation takes a swift turn.

"Y/N, I hear you're one of the top psychology students in the country.” Johnny remarks, his voice carrying an air of authority that matches his status.

Humbled but unable to deny the truth, you nod in acknowledgment. "I'm honoured you acknowledge that.”

"It's your first day here, and I know you're probably not expecting this, but I see high potential in you," Johnny continues. "I wouldn't recommend this if I didn't believe you could handle it. It's going to be tough, but your strong work ethic, dedication, and time management will be of great assistance."

Confusion clouds your expression as Johnny hints at a challenge ahead. Before any clarification can be offered, the door swings open again, revealing a figure you immediately find intriguing. He enters with an air of nonchalance. His hooded eyes, half-asleep gaze, and ruffled, messy hair add to his effortlessly handsome appearance.

Dressed casually yet impeccably, his cheeks are hollow, and his sharp jawline gives him an alluring edge. There's an enigmatic darkness about him that you can't quite explain but find strangely magnetic. His attire is a perfect blend of casual and put together, highlighting his innate sense of style.

He looks right at you, and his gaze is captivating and strong. You feel an unexpected flutter as your eyes meet, his presence leaving an indelible mark on your first day. As your eyes meet, a surge of surprise flickers in his gaze, and you, feeling an unexpected flutter, try to conceal the sudden shyness.

He takes the vacant seat beside you, eyes not leaving yours and you almost feel your heart stop. He’s even more breathtaking in person. His allure is heightened, perhaps by the subtle nuances of his expressions, the captivating way he carries himself,

“You’re new?” he asks, his voice low and thick with a hint of weariness.

You nod, meeting his intense gaze. “Y/N.”

“Jeno.” he replies, a small smile playing on his lips.

Professor Suh stood at the front of the room, "Welcome, Y/N and Jeno. I'm thrilled to have you both on board for this groundbreaking project that merges engineering and psychology, your respective majors. Your unique skill sets will be crucial in creating something truly impactful."

“Jeno, your unexpected excellence in engineering sets you apart without the need for boasting. Your laid-back energy and ability to achieve high results with minimal effort make you an ideal candidate for this project. You'll complement Y/N's hardworking and determined nature as a perfect counterpart.”

“Y/N, on your first day as a transfer, my meticulous examination of your records and discussions with past professors leave me with no doubt about your suitability for this project. Your dedication, serious approach to education, and future planning give me high hopes. The stark difference between your hard work ethic and Jeno's laid-back attitude is precisely why I envision a successful collaboration. Jeno's ease will balance well with your commitment, creating a synergy that I believe will lead to exceptional outcomes. I look forward to seeing how your distinct qualities contribute to the success of this endeavour.”

He paced back and forth, gesturing to the screen displaying images of urban spaces and people engaging with technology. "We're embarking on an innovative project that centres around Virtual Reality Therapy. This groundbreaking initiative involves harnessing virtual reality technology to craft therapeutic environments for individuals dealing with stress, anxiety, or specific psychological conditions. Y/N, given your background in psychology, your insights are pivotal. I encourage you to delve into understanding how people emotionally, socially, and culturally interact within these virtual therapeutic spaces as we pioneer this transformative approach."

Addressing Jeno, Professor Suh continued, "Jeno, your engineering expertise will play a vital role in translating the technical facets of our vision into reality. From efficient infrastructure to sustainable solutions and cutting-edge technology, I anticipate your innovative touch to shape and elevate this project."

As the excitement filled the room, Professor Suh's expression turned serious. "Now, a crucial point to address. Y/N and Jeno, I appreciate your collaboration, but it's important to maintain a professional boundary. Given the nature of this project, a personal relationship could introduce biases and conflicts of interest. Therefore, I must emphasize that you both cannot engage in a romantic relationship during the course of this project. We need clear focus and objectivity to make this endeavor a success."

The room fell momentarily silent as the weight of the statement settled. Professor Suh concluded, "I believe in your capabilities, and I'm confident that together, you can create something remarkable. Let's make a difference, not just in engineering and psychology, but in the lives of those who will benefit from our work."

Professor Suh continues with a firm but encouraging tone, “I expect each of you to approach this project with the dedication you’d give to a cherished hobby. I’ll be monitoring our progress weekly, and I want to see a well-structured timetable in place to ensure we’re on track.”

As the words lingered in the air, you were amazed. Your eyes reflected genuine enthusiasm for the challenge ahead. The prospect of making a positive impact resonated with you, and a subtle smile played on your lips.

On the other hand, Jeno wore an expression of the opposite. This collaborative endeavor seemed to hold little interest for him, and an air of mild dread crossed his features. The idea of putting in effort didn't align with his usual laid-back demeanor.

In this moment of contrasting emotions, you and Jeno shared a glance. Your bright-eyed enthusiasm met his more reserved skepticism. There, in that silent exchange, an unspoken understanding unfolded—an acknowledgment of your differing perspectives yet a recognition of the collaborative journey you were about to embark on. The dynamics between you two already hinted at the intriguing challenges that lay ahead.

Leaving the office together, you assumed Jeno, with his tired demeanor, would head off on his own. To your surprise, he turns to you, his hooded eyes meeting yours. The weariness in his expression contrasts with the kindness in his gaze, and your assumption fades as he wears a faint but warm smile.

In the dim light of the corridor, both your eyes meet, and unexpectedly, Jeno speaks, "It's your first day. Do you want me to show you around?" His voice, though a bit tired, carries a genuine offer.

You smile instinctively, grateful for the unexpected gesture. You nod.

Little did you know, Jeno's offer wasn't just about preventing you from getting lost. As he walks beside you, pointing out different buildings and sharing anecdotes, it becomes evident that he's intrigued by you. His questions about your interests and the way he attentively listens reveal a curiosity that goes beyond the simple act of guiding a new student. There's a subtle connection forming, and as you chat and laugh, the initial weariness in Jeno's eyes seems to fade, replaced by a genuine interest that neither of you can quite explain.

As Jeno points out various architectural details, his words flow with a quiet eloquence. "This is probably my favourite building, it’s a blend of neoclassical and modernist elements, I love the contrast. Can you see how the columns, though contemporary, draw inspiration from classical Greek design?”

Though you're not particularly interested in the intricacies of architecture, you find yourself captivated by the way Jeno speaks. His words, delivered with a smooth cadence, reveal a depth of understanding and an understated intelligence that intrigues you. You tune in more to the cadence of his voice, the rise and fall of each carefully chosen word, than to the specifics of the buildings he's describing.

"This structure is known for its sustainability," Jeno continues, gesturing towards another building. "The architect prioritized energy efficiency through the use of eco-friendly materials and innovative ventilation systems."

You nod, pretending to absorb the architectural information, but in reality, you're more attuned to the way Jeno effortlessly conveys his knowledge. His eloquence paints a picture of someone who possesses not only a keen eye for design but also a refined ability to articulate complex concepts. In the midst of the architectural tour, you find yourself appreciating not just the buildings but the subtle intelligence that radiates from Jeno's well-spoken descriptions.

There’s another reason why you feel out of tune when he’s speaking, it’s because all you can feel is stares. As you walk beside Jeno, so many peering eyes follow your direction, the weight of gazes lingers, making you feel out of tune with his words. The countless stares create a sense of unease, prompting you to cut him off. "Why is everyone staring?" you ask Jeno, confusion evident in your voice.

"They're not," he shakes his head reassuringly, but you know better – they are. He offers a kind smile, attempting to soothe your discomfort. "You're just shy. It's your first day."

Jeno notices subtle signs of distress in you as your hands tremble, breaths quicken and a flicker of unease in your eyes. Despite not fully understanding the reasons, an instinctive urge compels him to offer comfort. Maybe it's the sincerity in your gaze or the vulnerability that surfaces.

Jeno’s hand delicately finding its place on your chin. Panic seizes you, and your eyes widen in response to the unexpected touch. Yet, as your gaze meets his, a juxtaposing warmth begins to unfold. It’s a warmth you can’t quite explain, a comforting sensation that weaves through the panic.

His soft yet dark eyes look deep into yours. Jeno’s voice, a seductive and hushed whisper, slices through the ambient noise. “Just keep looking at me. Keep your eyes on me.” His words intensify the warmth, a juxtaposition to the escalating panic within you. It’s as though Jeno’s mere presence, coupled with his soothing touch and whispered guidance, forms a shield against the prying stares.

In that moment, the panic subsides, and your attention becomes tethered to Jeno. There’s an unspoken understanding in his gaze, a silent promise that despite the sea of eyes, his focus is a haven of reassurance. The inexplicable warmth persists, becoming a sanctuary within the storm of attention, and you find solace in the connection he forges amidst the overwhelming gaze of others.

Your first impression of Lee Jeno is so good. Truthfully, you’re not a people’s person. You stay to yourself, you have an incredibly small circle and you don’t particularly enjoy socialising, you rather stay inside and read a book or study. You didn’t expect to bond with someone on your first day like you had bonded with Jeno. You learned a considerable amount about him. He loved architecture even though he studied engineering, he was quite a nerd. He wants to be a pilot when he graduates, his favourite food is sushi (like yours) and he has an older sister. You even exchanged numbers, you told him to text you whenever he had a question about the project.

A sigh of relief escapes as you finally step into the comforting embrace of your home. Your social battery is drained, and with each steady breath, you revel in the tranquillity within familiar wall, immediately heading over to the fridge for some comfort food.

Proud of yourself, you reflect on succeeding through the challenges of your first day in a completely new city and university. There's a sense of accomplishment in not retreating to the bathroom but facing the day head-on. Making a friend, or at least someone you're excited about, (you’re not sure if he counts as a friend yet).

Truthfully, you find yourself thinking about him, Jeno. A smile lingering on your face like an idiot. The moment you sink into your bed, the cushions engulfing you, you can't contain the giddy excitement. Kicking your feet like a teenager, you revel in the warmth of the accomplishment.

Sure, he may be dreamy and handsome, and you playfully curse yourself for finding him so but hey, you're just a girl, and there's a certain charm in embracing those girly feelings amidst the challenges of a new day.

As you're about to dim the lights and start your favorite romcom, "Notting Hill," the ambiance carefully set with food and opening credits, the front door slams, causing you to nearly drop your bowl of popcorn. Startled, you turn to find your roommate, Choi Yeonjun, entering. His features look shocked, and your gaze instinctively scans the room before freezing when you realize his intensity is directed at you.

Without a greeting, his loud voice rings through the room, "Why the hell am I hearing that Lee Jeno walked you around campus this morning?"

You raise your brows in confusion. How did he find out? "Is he some celebrity or something?"

Yeonjun chuckles, giving you a judgmental look, treating your question as if it's the most absurd thing he's ever heard. "News travels like the plague when it’s concerning Lee Jeno, Y/N. He's a big deal, the campus enigma. Probably the most popular and wanted guy around. He and his friends practically rule the institution. Notorious, but in a good way. He's like that guy in teen movies. He throws parties and he fucks everyone. Are you seriously telling me you don’t know? Didn't everyone stare?"

Your mouth widens in shock, you genuinely thought that Yeonjun was lying but it’s clear he’s not. Jeno had seemed like the most far from popular person ever, he seemed down to earth and friendly and he was such a nerd! The mental image of Jeno walking you around campus this morning, discussing architecture with genuine passion, clashes with the idea of a campus legend. He had felt so approachable, and the revelation triggers a whirlwind of thoughts as you grapple with this unexpected side of him. The stark contrast between perception and reality leaves you in a state of genuine disbelief.

You answer your roommate's question after a while of silence. “Everyone was staring but he just brushed it off while I was shitting myself. It makes sense now! He acted so calm because he’s used to the stares.”

Red rose to your cheeks as you thought about his sweet gesture earlier, a smile plastered on your smile. “He was really sweet though, he reassured me in such a cute way, his hands touched my face and he whispered in my ear –”

Yeonjun screams and it gives you whiplash. “GIRL! NO!” He shakes his head, acting as if you’re committing arson.

“Why not?” You question, your voice a low whisper as you frown.

Yeonjun is flabbergasted as he explains. “He’s a player, he’s a fuckboy. He practically fucks anyone with a pussy and apparently he doesn’t get into relationships. Plus, apparently he can be really intense and full on, especially when he’s high, yeah, he gets high and wasted. He throws all these notorious parties and to be fair, I’ve been to some of them and they’re great but it’s a lot of drugs, alcohol, smoking and couples fucking. I’m not kidding. He’s very extroverted and confident but in quite a sexy and slick back way, yeah he’s really fucking hot and I can see that you already think that. I just think you should keep your distance, Y/N, if I’m being honest, he’s the opposite of you.”

The weight of Yeonjun’s words settles heavily in the room, leaving you in another silence. The dissonance between the Jeno you thought you knew and the reality presented by Yeonjun leaves you grappling with a mix of shock, disappointment, and a lingering sense of disbelief.

Yeonjun apologizes when he senses your mood shift, but you brush it off, recognizing it's not his fault. You thank him for being a good friend and giving you a heads up.

As your roommate, Yeonjun is the opposite of you—outgoing, always taking you out to explore the city, and a great person to chat with. He has a boyfriend named Soobin, who happens to be an excellent cook. Despite how loud they are and the amount of times you’ve walked into them in questionable positions, you can't help but envy their relationship—they're your idea of couple goals.

✧ ✧ ✧

The professor, passionately discussing human interactions, captivates your attention until the door swings open abruptly. Your eyes widen as you're shocked to find Jeno entering, eyes locking onto yours. He appears well-dressed, his hair slightly messy, tight black shirt and his pupils dilated.

Despite the stares from the seminar attendees, he remains unfazed. "There you are, you gave me the wrong number, you idiot.” he declares, catching you off guard. In this unexpected moment, you reflect on Yeonjun's warning, realizing that Jeno's demeanour speaks volumes—confidence exudes from him. You would’ve never thought this earlier but since Yeonjun’s warning, you’ve been replaying his campus tour in your head and it’s clear that he’s confident, it’s crazy how one opinion can completely transform an existing opinion.

"How did you find me?"

His response is curt, "Doesn't matter. It’s a good time to start on the project now. I’m quite busy for the next few months so I’d be thankful if you were able to dedicate the next month or so to making good progress.” As he seamlessly transitions into discussing the project, he proves to be well-spoken and sweet.

You nod. “Of course.”

He smiles and mutters a thank you. “Give me your phone quickly.” You gulp as he puts his number in your phone, telling you that he’s added the dates to your calendar on when you’ll work together for the project, telling you to message him if you need to adjust them.

He poses the question, "Your house or mine?" An audible gulp escapes you before hesitantly suggesting, "Um… the library?"

Jeno laughs, "Can we talk there?"

You agree, "Okay, then my house."

Without waiting for your reply, he turns around, leaving you to process his abrupt departure. "See you tonight," he calls over his shoulder, disappearing as swiftly as he entered.

✧ ✧ ✧

Jeno has been coming over to work with you nearly every day. He drives.

You’ve grown quite… intrigued (if you say attracted then Yeonjun will get Heejin to hit you) by his kind gestures. He always brings over food and your favourite coffee. You told him your favourite coffee once, it was just something you said in passing and you didn’t expect him to actually remember and then start a ritual of regularly buying it for you.

His company is one that you find yourself growing attached to, you’re comfortable around him. You’re surprised how quickly you’ve gotten used to him, it’s rare for someone like you to warm up to a stranger so quickly.

His work ethic is the main thing that has you incredibly intrigued by him. He’s never late to your study sessions, he’s always engaged and every idea he has exceeds brilliance.

The sides of his lips curve up at your planning. “So cute.” He whispers under his breath, watching you as your brows furrowed in concentration, a sigh of relief leaving your lips when you bring out the right folder, it was a massive baby blue one, labelled ‘Y/N’s and Jeno’s Virtual Reality Therapy project,’ in the most prettiest cursive writing, different types of stickers, butterflies, hearts and ribbons, accessorising the front.

“I have so many folders, I colour coordinate them all but it’s still so difficult to remember which is which.” You say with a heavy puff, Jeno taking the hefty folder from your hands and placing it on the well lit and presented study table in front of you.

He learns that you take studying very seriously, you’re always revising. You take pride in your notes, you gave him a tour of all your revision material and he’s never seen someone talk about studying with such a grin on their face, all your notes were so well written and organised, it gives him a new wave of awe for you.

“So, let’s brainstorm our ideas. So I said that we need to ensure that each virtual space is personalised to resonate with users emotionally, this could involve customizable elements like scents, sounds, and visuals to enhance the therapeutic experience. This helps with mindfulness. We can incorporate guided mindfulness exercises, providing users with tools to manage stress and anxiety within the virtual environment.”

Your lips automatically turn sour when you turn the page over in the written plans you’ve made, Jeno lets out a laugh when he sees why. It’s the engineering side to the project, you’ve made it clear that his major is something that you may never understand and have zero interest in. “I’ll let you talk about these ideas.” You wince, Jeno’s rough handwriting nearly making you cry.

“So we’re gonna implement advanced AI algorithms. These algorithms would adapt to user responses and needs, providing personalised guidance.”

You squeal, nearly jumping out of your seat and he looks at you with amazed eyes. You just had a lightbulb moment. You grin and clap your hands excitedly as you speak. “I just thought of an amazing idea, what if we create a way of facilitating connections among users who share similar therapeutic goals? We should aim to incorporate it, the sense of community can bring people together for additional support, they can assist on each other's journey towards mental well-being.”

Your turn to him pleading, lips in a pout as you give him the cutest puppy eyes you can muster. “Pleaseeee tell me you can make it work from your side, if you so no, I might cry.”

It takes Jeno a while to reply because he’s thinking, thinking about you. No one else would get this happy over thinking of a good idea, he finds you endearing and cute, you’re something that warms any darkness in his heart.

When you call out his name, he finally responds with a nod. “I’ll just need to create a way where users have autonomy to shape their therapeutic experiences and who they want to share it with. I can do that easily with database software, no problem.” You sigh and thank him, turning to the side and watching him as he furrows his nose, jotting down notes, a lot of mathematics and science that looks foreign to you.

“It’s a good idea, Y/N. Therapy is proven to work the best when you have someone to lean on.”

You nod like a siren as he speaks, following every word and never finding a fault, he is so smart. He always has good ideas, you’re amazed at how he can keep up with the psychology side to the project while you struggle to understand the engineering side to it. He works so hard and honestly seeing him in his element has made him even more attractive.

“Let’s take a break.” His words break your enchantment. You nod, he’s consistently been reminding you to take breaks and to be drinking your fluids.

“Do you wanna help Yeonjun cook?” You question, a small smirk playing on your lips at the change in his expression, his eyes lighting up and it makes you laugh hard.

“He’s here?”

“Yeah, he lives here.” You say sarcastically.

Unexpectedly, he, Yeonjun and Soobin get along like they’ve known each other for years. It all started when Yeonjun nearly burned the kitchen down in a cooking disaster. Jeno, like the genius that he is, salvaged the kitchen from going up in flames and salvaged the meal. It was the best meal you’ve had in your life. You’re not surprised that he was a talented chef, you’re growing to learn that he’s good at everything and it’s without effort.

Ever since then, Yeonjun and Jeno have started cooking together. It’s more like Yeonjun failing to follow the recipes, Jeno doing most of the work and then Soobin having to comfort his pouting boyfriend because he just wants to be able to cook one meal without fucking it up. You overhear the three of them in the kitchen sometimes. three people from complete different backgrounds but they bond and share stories, their laughter always making your heart yearn.

You and Jeno have the cooked meal in your room as you were studying at the same time. You grab your phone from your pocket, going onto Instagram and getting the delicious meal in your camera angle. You feel his eyes on you before he speaks. “I wanna follow you.”

You exchanged socials with Jeno and though it was difficult to fully control yourself as he was sitting right next to you, you were so close to hitting your head against a wall, anything to stop your head from buzzing.

The first thing you notice is the amount of followers he has, a whopping 5589, your 95 followers seemed silly in comparison. The second thing you notice is his feed. You have to bite your tongue from screaming. It’s absolute filth. Delicious filth. Your eyes light up at it and you admit, it’s sexy but you’re also wondering how the hell this was the same person.

Your eyes hover over countless shirtless photos, photos in the gym, at the beach, he had a physique that deserved this amount of posts. He had countless photos of him partying, drinking, loads where he’s just posing and he looks so handsome, like a model. His face belonged in runaways, so did his body. Your eyes also grow wide at how well styled he is in these photos, his poses natural, only he can pull this off.

“You have so many photos with that damn teddy.” You gulp when you realise that he was probably stalking your account just like you did to his, you now regret being so glued to your phone and his feed as you missed his reactions to your own feed.

“Do you wanna know why?” You continue when he nods. “I love travelling, it’s when I’m happiest. I love trying new food, seeing the culture, I love getting a break. This teddy has been with me since day 1, through thick and thin, so it means a lot to me that it’s also experienced some of my best memories with me. I make it tradition to take a photo in front of the country that I’m visiting biggest landmark, holding Theo.”

Jeno looks at the teddy bear with genuine admiration, his smile growing more tender. "It's worn out.” you mumble, a hint of apology in your voice. "But it's still sentimental," he says, understanding the value it holds for you. The moment feels beautiful, Jeno holding something that carries so many memories and brings you comfort.

As he looks at the teddy bear, you decide this is a memory worth capturing. "The tradition is taking a photo with my teddy, so..." you trail off, grabbing your camera.

Jeno, intrigued, asks, "What's the special landmark this time?"

You pause, then playfully respond, "My bed," only realising how it might sound after the words leave your mouth.

Flustered, you try to clarify, "I didn't mean—"

But Jeno finds it amusing, his laughter filling the room. "It's okay," he reassures you, still smiling. As the laughter lingers, you seize the moment, capturing it with a click of the camera. The soft bear rests in Jeno's hands, and he's caught in the act of laughing, his focus off the camera as he gazes at you.

Excitement builds as you show him the photo, his expression unreadable. However, there's a fondness in his eyes that speaks volumes. "Send me it," he requests, and before the words fully leave his mouth, the photo is already on his phone. It's a moment frozen in time, a memory shared, and a connection deepening between you and Jeno.

As the laughter subsides, a profound stillness envelops the room. Your gaze locks with Jeno's, and suddenly, everything else fades into the background. There's an intensity in the air, and it's as if a cascade of unspoken thoughts and feelings clouds your minds, creating a shared moment that defies explanation.

In the midst of this intimate silence, you find the courage to break it. Your voice, a mere whisper, carries the weight of vulnerability, "You know, I don't let anyone touch my teddy. His name is Theo." The admission hangs there, lingering, as the depth of trust and connection grows between you and Jeno. In that shared gaze, you both seem to get lost, lost in a space where time slows, and the world outside becomes a mere backdrop.

Finally, breaking the spell, you continue, "You're the first who's held him other than me." The words bridge the unspoken gap between you, sealing a bond that laughter and shared moments have forged. It's a moment both intense and intimate, etched in the quiet exchange of looks and the admission of something so personal.

Later that night, after Jeno had left, you find yourself scrolling through Instagram. Your heart races when you spot the latest post on your feed. A smile spreads across your face as you click on Jeno's profile, and the photo you took of him stands out in contrast to his usually serious and cohesive theme. It adds a touch of brightness and spontaneity.

Lee Jeno

*Image Attached*

Me and Theo :)

✧ ✧ ✧

Lee Jeno had seamlessly become a constant presence in your life, transcending the boundaries of your initial collaboration on the project. Friendship had blossomed, revealing layers of connection that went beyond the academic realm.

In the quietude of your shared space, you both spent countless hours together, revealing your true selves. Jeno’s kindness became something you grew incredibly attracted to. This became evident when Chaewon went through a tough breakup, and Jeno, true to his protective nature, comforted her in such a perfect way, he also held Chanhee accountable for his actions.

One evening, as the moon hung high in the sky, Jeno confided in you about his involvement in charity work, your mouth opening wide when you realise he works closely with the exact charity that you hold close to your heart. The revelation sparked a conversation that stretched into the early hours of the morning. Plans for the future unfolded organically, with both of you promising that you’d work hard so you could have a more active role in the charity, side by side. You even helped each other fill out the application for a post–graduate scheme the charity runs.

There were nights when words weren't necessary. The silence that enveloped you both wasn't awkward; instead, it became a source of comfort. Jeno cared for you in ways that transcended the project work. He brushed your hair, knowing it pained you to do it yourself. He cooked for you, he cleaned for you.

His caring nature extended to the smallest details—reminding you to take breaks during study sessions, massaging your hair and neck and personally ensuring you stayed hydrated by placing your water bottle in front of your lips every now and then. Jeno became attuned to your needs, completing small errands when the weight of your busy schedule became overwhelming.

As the night wore on, thoughts of Jeno lingered in your mind. You think about him all night long. His kindness had woven its way into the fabric of your daily life, making his presence as essential as the air you breathed. The bond you shared, born out of shared projects, charity work, and late-night conversations, had grown into something deeper—a connection that defied definition but spoke volumes in the language of shared glances, comfortable silences, and unwavering support.

In the hushed hours of the night, the doorbell's familiar chime cut through the silence, announcing Jeno's unannounced presence. It was 1am, this wasn’t unusual, it could only be him.

As the door closed behind him, Jeno's gaze found you, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he licked them. "You look hot.” he declared, eliciting a flutter of giddiness within you. Blushing, you responded, "Stop it." Yet Jeno's playful persistence only deepened.

A hint of tipsiness clung to him, altering the atmosphere with a subtle shift in demeanour. Jeno's eyes, unable to look away from you, held a different intensity. "Am I making you feel uncomfortable?" he whispered seductively.

Shaking your head, you admitted, "It feels good.” embracing the newfound confidence his attention bestowed upon you. The sexy dress and meticulous makeup became a canvas, painting you in a different light.

“Does it feel good? Yeah?” His words lingered in the air, stirring emotions you were still discovering.

Your cheeks become red, quickly changing the topic. "Heejin was just bored and said she wanted to give me a makeover," you explained, attempting to divert attention from your newfound allure.

"Mmm," Jeno responded, his eyes revealing a flicker of something different. Captivated and a bit tipsy, his gaze lingered on you with newfound intensity. “I was gonna come over so we could do some work, but I feel quite distracted.” Jeno confessed, his eyes still locked on you. The suggestion of a new plan flickered in his gaze.

"You look good, let me take a photo." he proposed, and you found yourself becoming Jeno's muse. His skilled hands orchestrated the scene, capturing a moment blending sensuality with artistry. The photo, zoomed in, portrayed your cleavage adorned with a faint lace veil, jewelry perfectly placed, and his delicate touch moving your fingers over your chest, adding a new allure. As the camera clicked, the image froze in time, encapsulating a night of unexpected comforts and unspoken connections.

In the dimly lit room, the ambiance shifted as Jeno's intense gaze lingered on you. "You're beautiful." he uttered, his voice a low and seductive whisper that hung in the air. The atmosphere grew charged with an unspoken tension as his fingertips delicately traced over your fingers, still resting on your chest. A subtle chill accompanied the graze of his thumb over your rings, an act that heightened the intimacy of the moment.

Trapped in the magnetic pull of his gaze, you found yourself getting lost in the depths of each other's eyes. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you in a silent exchange of emotions. The unspoken connection between you both spoke volumes, the touch of fingers and the locked gaze creating a romantic dance that transcended words. In that intimate space, time seemed to stand still, encapsulating the beauty of a moment suspended in the quiet acknowledgment of shared feelings.

Later that night you lay restless, head flat on your pillow, contemplating the desire to kick Jeno. Countless sleepless nights had been because of him, you keep thinking about earlier. As if summoned by your contemplation, your phone lit up, confirming your intuition—it was Jeno.

✧ ✧ ✧

Heejin insisted there was something brewing between you and Jeno, emphasizing the exchanged glances and the countless hours you spent together. Initially, Yeonjun and Soobin dismissed her claims, but once she managed to sway their opinions, you found yourself accused by three people of harbouring feelings for Lee Jeno.

Rather than denying it, you acknowledge the undeniable allure of Jeno. Who wouldn’t be captivated by him? He’s truly one of a kind. However, your feelings for him remain a fantasy, an unrealistic dream. “Even if I do, Heejin, he would never go for me.”

Heejin rolls her eyes at your apparent obliviousness. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

Soobin, wearing a puzzled expression, questions you, “Why do you say that?”

“It’s what Yeonjun said to me. He said that he’s a fuckboy, he doesn’t get into relationships and doesn’t want anything serious. Plus, I don’t fit into his scene. We have a lot of fun in my house but I don’t think I’ve ever hung out with him or his friends on campus apart from the occasional small talk, it kinda sucks…”

You regularly find yourself thinking about Yeonjun’s warning and it surprises you because the Lee Jeno you had gotten to know was so different from that. He was kind, caring and thoughtful, you couldn’t imagine him as a notorious fuck boy but if you were being fully honest to yourself, it did make sense. There was no denying that he was horny and incredibly sexual, nor was there denying his unbeatable looks and the attention his presence attracts.

Yeonjun shakes his head. “I can’t believe what I said either. He’s completely different to what I stereotyped him as. He’s still the most popular guy on campus but he’s actually a really sweet and down to earth guy, you know? He cares about his studies but he also cares about having fun, that’s why he always gets high and parties. He’s really humble and having one to one conversations with him is actually life changing, I see why Y/N spends most of her time with him. I’m not gonna lie, I think I’m catching feelings.” Yeonjun laughs, claiming the last bit was a lie, wincing when Soobin smacks him on the head.

“I heard he’s stopped sleeping around, Seoyeon and Nagyung tried to initiate something with him but he turned them down, he’s been turning a lot of people down which is unlike him.” Heejin says, clearly she’s heard all the gossip.

“Why?” You whisper in a faint voice.

The three of them exchange amused glances, and before you can fully grasp the situation, you let out a heavy sigh, accompanied by a crying noise.

“I want him,” you admit, tears welling up as you cry out, letting your emotions take over. Uncertain about why you’re reacting this way, you simply know you can’t deny it any longer – you’ve fallen completely and utterly for him.

Heejin wraps you in a warm hug. “Why are you crying?”

In confusion, a hint of hysteria in your voice, you shake your head. “I don’t know! I just want him.”

The weeks continue and you and Jeno have made good progress on your project, you still spend a lot of time together. There’s a shift in the atmosphere and air now as you actively like him, you try to fight back your feelings when interacting with him but you act on them, in the worst possible way, in fear and awkwardness.

You’re different around him. You don’t know if he can notice it. You confuse yourself, you also confuse Heejin and Yeonjun, who are the only ones who know about your unrequited and secret feelings and you made them promise to not tell anyone (Soobin knows).

You undeniably act crazy, for some reason that’s beyond you, you try and play matchmaker for him. “There’s a girl in my class who’s really pretty and cute, she’s sweet and she’ll suit you. Her name is Karina, do you know her?” You question words that should sound sweet and helpful but there’s a disconnection as you speak.

He shakes his head immediately, “I’m not interested.”

You don’t know why you’re so adamant. “But I heard you like going for girls? She’s a girl, I think she’s interested in you as well.”

He turns it down once again. “I’m sick of all the fucking, maybe I just want something serious.” You wonder if his words are directed at you, or are you delusional? Self doubt fills you, your thoughts attacking and fighting against what you feel in your heart. You’re not his type. He would never go for you.

The atmosphere shifts, leaving you in a state of confusion and anxiety. Trying to deflect, you push, “She’s really pretty, like the prettiest girl on campus.”

“I think you’re prettier,” he says softly, his gaze fixed on you. The air turns serious and intimate as his words linger, weaving into the ambiance, creating a moment where your anxiety and overthinking become almost palpable.

✧ ✧ ✧

What you don’t realise is that Jeno fell for your first.

Underneath the soft glow of string lights in your cozy living room, Jeno sits beside you on the couch. The air is filled with the familiar scent of popcorn, and the soft melody of "About Time" starts playing on the TV. As the scenes of the epic love story unfold, Jeno's eyes occasionally flicker to the screen, but more often, they're drawn to you.

You're completely absorbed in the movie, blissfully unaware of the fact that Jeno has not paid attention to the plot at all, he’s watching you, experiencing a beautiful story unfolding right in front of him. He knows he's fallen in deep when the realisation hits him like a wave.

It’s not like you can complain about his lack of attention towards the screen, it’s not like you paid attention when he made you watch his choice of movie, some geeky sci-fi that you fell asleep to less than halfway through.

The warm, dim light accentuates the gentle curve of your smile as you feed him popcorn, turning to face him and smiling every now and then. He's mesmerised by the way your eyes light up with each romantic scene, and he can't help but smile in response.

The soft giggle that escapes your lips becomes music to his ears, and he finds himself captivated by the subtle nuances of your laughter. The way you effortlessly create an atmosphere of comfort and joy leaves him in awe.

Jeno tries to make sense of the fluttering sensation in his chest, an unfamiliar but welcome feeling. Falling for someone wasn't part of his usual narrative, yet here he is, embracing the complexity of emotions. Your kindness, the shared moments, and the discoveries of common ground are etching memories in his heart.

Despite your differences, the attraction grows stronger. He admires your calmness, a sanctuary he craves, while you find solace in his fearless spirit. Yet, the walls of your connection seem confined to the space within your house, and Jeno feels a longing to extend it beyond.

He suggests hanging out outside, but each invitation is met with your dedication to studies. Parties and town visits are dismissed with a polite reminder of your academic commitments. Jeno understands, even though he wishes to be part of your world beyond the books.

The realisation settles in—he should dislike someone whose life revolves around studying, but he can't bring himself to feel anything but admiration. The mystery of why he's drawn to you, combined with the unspoken tension between you two, leaves Jeno questioning the unexpected turn of his feelings.

He confided in his childhood best friend, the one who knows him the best, Na Jaemin.

Jeno sits on Jaemin’s bed, frustration etched on his face as he scrolls through your social media feed. Each picture elicits a sweet smile from him, and he can’t deny the growing warmth in his chest every time he thinks about you.

“What the fuck is happening to me, Jaemin?” Jeno blurts out, his gaze fixed on your adorable posts. “I never thought I’d fall for her, and now I’m planning our future and naming our hypothetical children.”

The words sound almost surreal as they leave his lips, and Jeno can’t believe he’s uttering such sentiments. Perhaps the alcohol has loosened his inhibitions, his attempt to drown his feelings gone awry as thoughts of you flood his mind.

Frustrated, he barges into Jaemin’s room, pouring out his heart about his unexpected attraction, his desire for you, and the constant presence of your thoughts haunting him.

“So, what do you want to do about it?” Jaemin inquires, assessing his friend’s dilemma.

“I don’t know,” Jeno confesses, uncertainty clouding his expression. The beating sensation in his heart felt so foreign.

“Is this normal?” Jeno asks, his voice laced with fear.

Jaemin can’t help but laugh at the irony. “This is the most normal you’ve ever been.”

✧ ✧ ✧

You don’t know how you found yourself indoors on a Friday night, laying on your bed, Lee Jeno beside you, as he talks to you about his favourite sex position.

“I love them all. The doggy, I love being able to touch everything, hips, tits, boobs, while I pound into the pussy like crazy. I love being restrained and tied up. I love when I’m choked or when I choke. I love when someone rides me, uses me to get off, doesn’t let me touch them. Fuck. But I also love sucking on titties while my dick is being bounced up and down on. Y/N, I just love sex.” He finishes with a satisfied sigh, playful eyes looking deep into yours, not breaking contact for even a second as he speaks.

He chuckles, “You?”

You nearly choke. “I – I don’t have as much experience as you but I just like plain old missionary, you know? I like looking into someone's eyes as we’re making love. I crave feeling loved and seen, I want every inch of my body kissed, I want a connection so deep that every worry fades away. I just want to feel loved and appreciated, you know?”

Jeno’s silent, his eyes turning dim as he sees you in a new light. It’s the way he’s looking at you. You blush, your eyes inviting him in a soft whisper. He hums and nods in agreement. “You’re adorable.” His finger moves to nudge your nose and you do the same to him.

“So you’re not a needy slut?” His unexpected change of subject makes you choke. You jab him in the chest, shaking your head, tongue prodding the inside of your cheek as he looks at you with a playfulness. “I always imagined you as one…” He mumbles, his firm grip on your face conveys a powerful desire for your unwavering attention, a silent plea for you to remain captivated by his gaze.

You roll your eyes. “Just because I want to feel loved by my partner doesn’t mean that I don’t have a freaky side.” You pout, crossing your arms as you refuse to look him in the eyes.

“It’s not my fault that I haven’t been given the opportunity to explore that side of me. I mean sure, I want to have crazy sex but when you’re as inexperienced as me, I mean, call me boring but my body count is only 1. What’s yours?”

He ignores your question, asking his own. “You’re not a virgin?” His tone comes across as more perplexing and shocked than he would’ve wanted but when he realises that you’ve not taken it the wrong way, instead you burst out in laughter, he sighs a breath of relief. His eyes light up at how precious your laugh is, it pulls at his heart string and makes him yearn for something that utterly and truly confuses him.

“I used to have a boyfriend.” You mumble, looking down and picking at your nail, a sense of loss in your voice which gives Jeno an unusual tear in his insides. He’s used to seeing you nervous but it still makes him wish he could take everything away.

“Hey.” He smiles, a sweet tone and his gentle fingers come underneath your chin, softly caressing the skin as he turns your face to look his way. Gone were the days where you’d break away from his intimate eye contact due to feeling butterflies. Though the fluttering sensation remains, there’s now an endearing quality that compels you to keep looking.

He doesn’t need to ask for you to open up and explain, you do that without a second thought now, that’s how comfortable you’ve become with him. “It was my first relationship, my first kiss, my first – you know.” You laugh awkwardly and he widens his eyes, tongue prodding against his cheek in annoyance. Why the hell is he annoyed?

“It was perfect. I mean – it seemed perfect. We were so different, in no world could I imagine being together. He was a lot more adventurous than I was, in a lot of ways. He used to party a lot, he had a very big friend group, he was really outgoing and social. He always used to receive so much attention and then obviously me, the only girl he’s ever settled down with, became the negative side of that attention that he got.”

“I realised that our differences didn’t make us an ideal match. I really wanted us to work, I wanted to prove to myself that the person you love doesn’t have to have the same likes and interests as you, because what’s the fun in that? I wanted to fall so badly in love with the world that he was in, I wanted to become familiar with it but it was too much for me. I used to get so overwhelmed with anxiety and pressure, I found myself acting so unlike myself, I didn’t want to change who I was for him but I ended up on that path. I mean, we broke up before it got extreme. It would’ve been easier if he was a cruel person but he wasn’t, he isn’t. I think I realised that I couldn’t put up with his hectic lifestyle, it all just became a bit too much. Sometimes, though, I felt like that relationship ate away at my self worth and that I begin to matter less and less. I feel like I was never good enough –“

“Don’t you ever say that.” He interrupts, not letting you undermine yourself. As he senses your silence and the stillness on your face, he inches closer. It’s now you who can’t tear your gaze away from him, your heart beats as you feel the warmth of his body. He gently wipes away a falling tear, the warmth of his eyes not leaving yours for a second. His hands then securing your shoulders. He pulls you into a warm embrace, you break into sobs, held tightly in his comforting softness.

You’re not sure when but the comfort in the touches escalated to a level that felt unusual for ‘friends’ but it felt so normal for the two of you.

He lays down on your bed, cushioned by the dozen pillows surrounded by you guys but the main thing warming his heart was your body pressed on top of his, your head tucked into the crevice of his neck as he smooths your hair. He occasionally drops kisses to your temple, his reason being that you were crying and he knows your number one comfort in the world is physical touch but he’s run out of his excuse when you stop crying.

You pout against his skin when he suddenly stops smoothing out your hair, he chuckles and immediately starts once again. What you don’t know is that his heart momentarily stopped as your lips made contact with your skin. It’s a feeling he’s never experienced, the flutter of butterflies in his stomach, the quickened beat of his heart like a melody finding its rhythm.

Your eyes meet in a silent exchange, an intimate haven A warmth envelops the air as your gazes intertwine, feelings that make sense, feelings that don’t make sense. The atmosphere is gentle, like a comforting breeze that whispers sweet secrets. In that tender moment, time seems to slow, and the world around you fades into a soft blur.

He rests his palm against your cheek, the contact making a genuine smile spread across your face as you lean into the touch, your cheek rubbing against his palm as you let out a hum of satisfaction. His other hand continues caressing your hair, you normally would’ve been annoyed as he was making fresh hair greasy but you can’t find it in you to act on that, especially not when he’s looking at you the way he is right now.

“I don’t ever wanna hear you say you’re not good enough, ok?” He says and his tone is comforting yet strict, it was conflicting in a way. He nudges your nose with his thumb. “You’re my favourite person right now.”

You nod, looping your arms around his neck in a bid to get closer. “I promise, I won’t.”

He goes silent then tuts, huffing in disbelief. “What about me?” He questions, offended. He’s exaggerating, he’s doing it to make you laugh and he hasn’t failed.

“You’re my favourite person right now too.” You admit, your heart is weighed down with emotion and your voice reveals your depth of feelings

“Did he treat you well?” Jeno asks, brows furrowing in concern, his protective stance making you smile.

“It’s complicated. Sexually, it wasn’t the best. After the relationship passed I realised that my needs and desires weren’t pleased the way I deserved them to be. It was always me getting down on my knees, I think I cummed like twice in the entire three months. It was just –”

“You deserve better than that.”

Jeno's intense gaze deepens, pupils dilating with a mixture of empathy and resolve. "You deserve better than that. You’re so fucking beautiful and intelligent. You’re so cherished. You deserve the best sex that anyone can ever give you, every need met. You deserve to cum a thousand times a night. I promise I’ll show you.” The tension in the air grows thicker as he leans in closer to you, just when you think he’s gonna kiss you, he smiles, his promise carrying a soft reassurance. It’s one that confuses you but you can’t deny the way your eyes lit up and the soreness of your cheeks from smiling.

A silence passes and it’s both exciting and terrifying. He’s never looked at you like this before. You want to ask him what he’s feeling, to act in the way that he’s looking at you and holding you but a part of you doesn’t have the confidence for that yet.

“Now you need to tell me, what’s up with everyone telling me you’re a fuckboy?” You question him, a poor way on your behalf to move the conversation forward.

You can see that he’s taken aback by your question in his eyes but they twinkle nonetheless. “I just love having sex.” He answers quickly and bluntly, eyes deep into yours as he reveals his truth, you try to laugh off your nerves but his gaze is locking with such intensity into yours. He chuckles at your reaction, at how red and flustered you’ve become. He loves this.

“I’m not a fuckboy though. You know me, you don’t think I’m mean, do you?”

You shake your head immediately, gulping and tearing your eyes from him as he calls you a good girl. He means it harmlessly but it fucks with your head. You quickly talk to ignore the racing beat of your heart. “You’re so sweet and kind to me – ” You laugh, stopping mid sentence to pinch his cheeks which to your surprise, he doesn’t even stop you from doing. “But Jeno… I’ve seen you be quite unfriendly to other people.”

“They deserve it.” He answers with no hesitation.

“I still don’t get why everyone kept speaking about you like you were a notorious fuckboy, you know so many people warned me to stay away from you, I obviously didn’t listen.”

He sighs, scratching his neck. “They’re just jealous that we get along so well but it doesn’t bother me because at the end of the day, we’re making the best memories together. And people don’t know the true story, they just comment on what they see and assume the worst. I’m not a fuckboy like that. Yeah sure, I like, well I used to like sleeping around but I was never a ‘rude fuck boy’. I have respect for each and every girl I sleep with, I make sure they’re cared for, before and after we’re fucking, that they feel good at all times whilst they’re with me. I make sure they don’t feel like I’m just using them for sex even though I don’t want anything further with these girls, I make it clear that the only thing I’m looking for is good sex and they always know that before going into it with me, it avoids disappointment and high expectations. Although I’ve had problems before, it doesn’t matter.”

He explains and a silence follows. You have so many thoughts, so many questions you want to ask and you don’t know where to start but before you know it, one is spilling from your lips before you can properly think of what you’re asking. “Why did you stop?”

He hums, looking at you and raising an eyebrow.

“You said you ‘used’ to like fucking around, why have you stopped?”

“What do you think?”

You hiss in annoyance, he’s normally always keen to explain and talk through everything and anything to you so why is he being so secretive and blunt right now? You don’t understand why he’s keeping his words to a minimum.

“I don’t know so can you stop being so –”

“How am I supposed to have sex with these girls when I’m wishing that they were you?”

In the warm, charged air, their breaths mix like a dance, full of longing. Just a few words reshape everything. It's weird – no nerves or awkwardness, just a flutter in your heart, embraced in the moment. He holds you with strong arms, bodies fitting together perfectly. His captivating eyes connect with yours deeply. It feels just right, a special moment.

"Jeno," you say softly, and he responds with a hum.

"Yeah. I want you," he says, his thumb gently touching your bottom lip.

His radiant grin and those mesmerising eyes captivate your attention, urging you to keep gazing at him but you have a better idea. Your tender lips meet his, your eyes naturally close, succumbing to the delicate touch. The kiss, a mere caress of skin against skin, sparks a delightful frenzy within, setting your entire being alight. Immobile, you find yourself unable to resist, and there's no desire to. In this moment, you yearn for time to stretch indefinitely – the subtle hint of cinnamon warmth, the fragrance of fresh rain, and the exquisite sensation of his breath mingling with yours – a wish for this enchanting experience to linger.

Lost in each other's lips and locked in a gaze that speaks volumes, the night unfolds with passionate embraces and tangled limbs. You feel Jeno's desire, a palpable energy that fuels the connection. His scent, a mix of warmth and subtle cologne, envelops you, adding another layer to the sensory experience.

The kisses are intense and insatiable, each touch leaving an indelible mark on the night. Jeno's lips move with purpose, exploring and igniting a fervor that courses through both of you. The taste of him is addictive, the play of tongues an intricate dance of desire. As you straddle him, the heat between you grows, the kisses deepening in both intensity and intimacy.

It's not just a physical connection; it's a shared exploration of passion. Jeno's hands on your body convey a hunger matched by your own, creating an electric current that courses through every touch. The room is filled with the sounds of heavy breathing and the symphony of kisses, creating a sensory tapestry that encapsulates the entirety of this unforgettable night.

✧ ✧ ✧

As soon as you open the door, you barely have time to recollect your thoughts or greet him as his lips are pressed against yours.

He grabbed you firmly, and backed you up against the wall beside the door as he swiftly closed it. His lips come crashing into yours, tongue adjacent. You barely had time to think or react. Your eyes widened in astonishment as he pulled away for a moment, his eyes met yours with a smile.

“Hello to you too.” You whimper, his lips kissing along your jaw, while his hands slid along your body.

He breaks it up as he senses it’s getting too heated, you’re both breathing heavily and flustered. His eyes sparkle as he takes in your appearance, bottom lip tugged under his teeth as he looks you up and down. “You look cute.” He compliments.

You give him a giddy smile, feeling hot as his heated gaze is still taking in all of your body and he’s not hiding it. You’re laughing against his shoulder when he pulls you in for a warm hug, the embrace filling your veins with joy. He kisses your cheek, you tie your hands together and realise you really do look cosy. You were in the fluffiest of socks, your hair was in a messy bun and you were wearing your glasses. Your cheeks heat up when you remember that you were only wearing a t-shirt and underwear, you were sure he could see your nipples peek through your flimsy top and if you rose ever so slightly, your panties would be on show.

“I dress for comfort.” You say with pride.

“And I don’t?”

You shake your head, you were honest and unfiltered. “You really don’t, every day is like a runaway for you but I’m not complaining.” He always looks hot.

“Why are you so dressed up right now?” You question, glancing sideways to look at the clock. “It’s 1am. What are you even doing right now?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“What have you been doing?” He reverses his question back to you.

You clap your hands with excitement and he can’t help but grin at how cute he finds you like this. “I’ve been working on the assignment. Do you want me to show you all I’ve worked on?” You question, hand already in his and you’re ready to drag him to your room before he interjects.

“You should’ve showed me earlier when I was trying to sleep.” He is completely unfazed. Kissing your forehead as his form of apology when you start sulking. You grab his tie, the action making him flustered which you don’t realise.

You fiddle with the material. Eyes dancing over him again.

He exudes attractiveness in smart trousers that complement his silhouette perfectly, paired with a meticulously fitted shirt. Every detail oozes of confidence, from the crisp lines of the trousers to the way the shirt hugs his muscular and broad form with tailored precision. His black leather jacket is resting against his shoulders, adding warmth and comfort to his attire. “You still haven’t told me, why are you so dressed up?”

He doesn’t answer at first so you loop your arms around his neck to ensure his full attention is on you. He seems a bit distracted, you realise he’s looking down as your shirt has risen, he’s looking at your lace underwear peeking through, the all so familiar heat in his eyes that you’re so used to.

“Hey!” He meets your eyes with an apologetic yet guilty glance, he truly couldn’t help himself. He bites his lips and you take the time to truly take him all in.

His hair, pitch black and casually slicked back, has a few stray strands escaping the gel, falling playfully over his forehead. Your hand naturally reaches to caress the hair on his neck, enjoying its length. Fingers moving to dangle against his earrings, adoring how he was always so dressed up, he took so much pride in his appearance and the attentiveness was hot.

His face is like something out of a magazine, intense, heated eyes, soft cheeks, lips still swollen from your kisses, a sharp jawline, and the cutest dimples. He looks stunning, surpassing anyone you've seen before. It's not just his looks; the way he looks at you confirms he's a masterpiece, as if he's walked out of an impressionist painting.

His sides of his lips curve up in the most boyish smile as he checks you checking him out. “You think I’m sexy?” He questions, voice purposefully low and seductive. You’ve learnt that he’s quite shameless and cheeky, he has no limit or shame.

“Answer me.” He says as you’re silent.

“Yeah.” You answer simply, voice coming in a small whisper which makes him coo at how cute you are.

He kisses your lips briefly before finally telling you why he’s come to you in such attire. “You’ll see why I’m so dressed up in about an hour.“ He looks at his watch before finishing. “And now you’re gonna be dressed up.”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion as he moves your arms from around his neck so he can take your hand in his, walking the two of you outside to where his car is parked. He opens the passenger door with one hand, pulling you in front of him with his other, arm coming to rest around your front, his compact yet soft hold keeping you in place against his body heat, flush against flush. You’re so close to him.

You feel an electric shock of butterflies surge through your veins when he leans over to grab the bags on the seat, you lean over in tow. He’s made it difficult for himself to grab the bags by placing you in front of him but you learn that he’s just content to feel your body against his, you never realised how touchy and clingy he truly could be. He rests his head against your shoulder, kissing the skin below your ear as he sighs when you relish in his touch, leaning back into him, closing your eyes in bliss. Truth is, you find yourself craving for his touchy side.

“I don’t want you to get cold.” He explains himself. It’s his excuse, how could you get cold when you’ve been outside for a mere minute? You giggle when he ends the moment to drag you back inside. It was definitely an excuse.

“What the hell is in these bags?” You question, eyes widening as you look at the brands. This was a lot of money.

“Well, I remember you telling me that you felt like you didn’t have enough going out clothes so I got you some that I know you’d look really good in.” He explains like it’s nothing, laughing as he sees your agape mouth and startled eyes. No one has ever done this for you.

“You shouldn’t have!”

After a lot of back and forth, you trying to reject the gifts, him telling you to shush and to just accept this gesture, you finally accept the gifts with hesitation, promising him that you’ll make it up to him.

“When did you even have time to go shopping?” He left your house at around 10pm with a kiss to your forehead, telling you he had some university work to do. He felt guilty as you pleaded him to stay the night but he promised he would another day.

“I just couldn’t sleep, I kept thinking about you.” He explains, his honesty being a major turn on for you.

“I told you not to go.” You mumble with a pout.

“Well I’m here now.”

“I went shopping for you. It didn’t take long, I know what you like.” He says and you’re left wondering how?. You don’t even think you know yourself like that, whenever you’re shopping it’s always a lengthy struggle.

He leans down and your eyes nearly tear at how attractive he truly is.

His shirt clings to his muscles, showing off the definition in his lean and toned chest as he leans down, rummaging through the bags with a determined look. Your thirst is quenched by the view of his thighs, snug and fabulous, displaying their shape in a really appealing way.

He finally finds what he’s looking for with a satisfying grin, leaning up and handing over the material gently in your hands. Your skin beams at the luxurious silk, it’s smooth texture inviting a gentle caress in your hand. “You’re gonna wear this one.” He asks, more like tells but you don’t have a problem with it. Seeing the mere satisfaction he gets from telling you to wear a dress that he’s brought out for you and one that he likes is enough to make you feel confident and secure in the choice.

“You know my size?” You question in suprise, eyeing the label as you speak.

He wiggles his eyebrows, a smirk plastered on his face. “Of course I do.” His tone is playful.

You look at him with surprise, this is a side to him that’s so unexpected and different. Jenos, once more reserved and friendly with you, underwent a noticeable transformation when he received the green light of your interest in him. The subtle shift in his demeanour revealed a confidence that he had been hiding, he began to explore a more touchy and sensual side. His interactions became imbued with a palpable energy, as if he had unlocked a deeper connection and sought to express it through physical closeness. The change in his actions spoke volumes about the impact of your reciprocated feelings, turning moments of restraint into an exploration of intimacy.

The unexpected emergence of Jenos' flirty, touchy, and loving side sparked a thrilling response, stirring a sense of arousal. The contrast from his previous reserved nature amplified the allure, creating a magnetic pull of excitement. The novelty of exploring this unanticipated dimension of his personality added a layer of passion, turning the ordinary into an exhilarating adventure. The element of surprise, coupled with the genuine connection, heightened the attraction and fueled a sense of desire for the uncharted territories of this newfound intimacy.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

“Black.” You and him answer at the same time and his eyes lift up in satisfaction. You’re questioning two things, why would he ask if he already knows? And how does he know so much about you? It makes you question whether you’re an open book or whether he’s just so attentive and observant, you know it’s the latter. Even your best friend doesn’t know this much about you.

“You know, your favourite colour doesn’t match your personality.” He whispers, leaning down, his breath caressing your ear before his whisper does. “It makes me so much more intrigued by you, I know you have a side that you haven’t shown anyone, I can’t wait until you’re ready to show me it.”

You’re stunned by his words but he doesn’t even give you time to react fully or respond. “Try it on.”

“But where are we going?” You question, lips in a pout, cheeks flushed and eyes soft, hoping it would evoke sympathy so he’d tell you as you can’t stand surprises but he doesn’t budge.

“What’s with all the questions?” He says in an amused tone, secretly loving how you were freaking out inside.

“I –“

“Don’t you trust me?” He says, voice gentle and heart sincere.

“Of course I do.” You answer without thinking. He’s earned your trust through time.

“Good girl.” He smiles, thumb caressing your bottom lip, looking down at you with equal amounts of trust and appreciation in his eyes. What you felt for each other was undeniable and unquestionably mutual. “Now go change.”

Your eyes widen and your cheeks become flustered, a redness that was starting to become usual around him. He pecks your lips before closing his eyes in front of you, covering his eyes with his palm before turning around. “Is this okay?” He questions and you nod, telling him yes.

Sliding into the dress feels like a graceful embrace, the feeling heightened as you know it’s picked out and chosen by Jeno. The silk glides effortlessly over your skin, casting a sensation. As it inches up, there's a gentle caress against your legs and thighs, and the dress wraps you in a luxurious cocoon, creating a heightened sense of elegance and allure.

You let out a shudder of cold breath when you realise that there’s a zip on the back, one that you probably would have reached with some effort but you had a better idea. “Jeno.” You call out to him, your faint voice filling the hot atmosphere.

“You’re finished?” He says, palm still over his eyes and they wouldn’t move until you told him so.

“Just turn around.”

A rush of breath escapes him as he emerges from a minute of darkness, greeted by the captivating sight of your back. The silhouette reveals a subtle curve, the graceful lines drawing his attention, and a mix of anticipation and wonder floods through him at the unexpected beauty unveiled before his eyes.

“Can you help me with the zip?” You ask, shyly, not knowing what to feel as you were met with his silence.

“Yes.” He answers and for the first time, he sounds speechless in your presence.

His fingers trace a delicate path along the exposed skin as he slowly zips up the back of your dress, eyes following in awe. The metallic whisper of the zipper weaves a subtle melody, punctuating the intimacy of the moment. The fabric yields to your touch, caressing your spine in a tender dance. Each upward motion is a silent promise, creating an electric connection between you, as if sealing the dress is an act of sealing the shared passion. The room is filled with an unspoken language, where every tug of the zipper threads binds you closer, making the ritual of dressing a ritual of desire. His fingertips create an intimate connection, his touch lingering as if etching a map on your spine. You’ve never felt closer.

“Done.” He whispers with a kiss to the back of your neck, leaving his lips there to linger, the feeling of his skin against yours leaving goosebumps.

“Thank you.” You mumble, moving to turn around and face him but before you can do so, his hands around your waist secure you. He moves your hair from one side and tucks it behind your ear, you relish in his touch, breath hitching in your throat when you realise you’re both standing in front of the mirror.

Your own reflection is a welcome surprise. The dress hugs your curves beautifully, accentuating them in a way you could’ve never imagined. The cleavage on show makes you feel shy but the way Jeno’s looking at you takes it all away. You can see how he’s looking at you through the reflection, his eyes carrying such intensity and heat, it speaks of desire.

His voice, a symphony of sensuality and seduction, whispered, "You look so beautiful, baby." His eyes, filled with desire, traced an enchanting path across your form, lingering on the curves that the dress embraced so gracefully. A subtle, knowing smile played upon his lips as his fingertips delicately explored those curves.

“Can you see how beautiful you look?” He pressed a soft kiss against your skin, the intimacy heightened as you pressed back, sighing as you melted fully into him. In that moment, the air was filled with the magnetic allure of shared affection, an intimate atmosphere that bound you together in the dance of whispered words, gentle kisses, and the tender touch that spoke volumes.

He hums when you haven’t answered.

“Yes.” You answer simply, not knowing that you could feel this way.

“Can I put your hair up?” He questions, voice coming out as a quiet lull. You nod, your hair is already in a messy bun but you assume he wanted to do it neatly.

You look in astonishment as he focuses on you with his full attention, smoothing out the strands and putting everything in place before creating what could’ve possibly been the best hairstyle you’ve ever seen on yourself. It was an elegant bun, framing pieces giving a whole new level of sophistication and elegance to your look, his attention to detail surprised you.

You laugh and it unexpectedly brings humour to such a heated and intimate moment. “When did you learn how to do all this?” You question, he could do hair better than you.

“I like when your hair is up.” He whispers into your ear, a playfulness deep in his tone which fucks with your head even more.

“You look so much better than I could’ve imagined and trust me, I’ve thought about you in this dress about a hundred times since buying it.” He admits, his hands glued to your curves, he’s unable to stop caressing them.

The dress was so utterly breathtaking. “Thank you Jeno, really.” You express your gratitude, looking in the mirror and admiring the sight of your own reflection once again.

The dress is crafted from lavish black satin, so enchanting, a lustrous sheen that catches the light with every movement. The fabric gracefully cascades, accentuating the contour and curves of your body while maintaining an air of refinement. Delicate lace embellishments trace along the neckline and hem, The plunging neckline subtly accentuates your cleavage, a sight that was welcoming and new, it adds a touch of allure without being overly revealing. Its captivating elegance lies in the delicate balance between sophistication and subtle seduction, making it the most secure and perfect choice for you.

You turn around in his hold, looking up at him with the most fervent eyes before you close the small distance between you both.

Your lips met his in a passionate embrace, a desperate dance of desire. The heat of the moment intensified as he kissed you back, moulding your mouths together, creating an electric connection. Soft sighs and gentle moans lingered in the air, merging with the intoxicating warmth. It was a steamy, lingering kiss—a fusion of longing and urgency that left you both breathless, lost in the sensual currents of the shared moment.

You back away with a whimper, breathing heavily and feeling unsatisfied. Just as you’re about to kiss him back, his words cut you off. “We have to go, we’re gonna be late.” His voice is forced and pushed out, leaving you with a small pout as you follow his lead, hand ingrained in his as he walks you to the car.

His hand doesn’t let go of yours as he’s driving. You possibly can’t imagine him being any more attractive than he is in this current moment, although you don’t know that you’re in for a surprise.

As he navigates the empty road, his strong, defined arms confidently grip the steering wheel. The hum of the engine harmonises with the low timbre of his voice as he occasionally speaks to you, the small talk filling the atmosphere but never once feeling awkward or forced.

His fingers entwine with yours in a silent promise. The occasional soft kisses on your hand punctuate the drive, moments of affection seamlessly woven into the rhythm of your journey. It’s like he can’t go a moment without him touching or kissing you, little do you know that this is only the start…

Your eyes carry a magnetic allure as he parallel parks so swiftly, something that you’re both envious and turned on by. The concentration that furrows his brow makes you smile at how breathtaking he looks.

“You’re staring.” Eyes not leaving the road as he fills the silence, turning around to face you for a split second with that smirk that pulls at your heart strings.

“You look hot.”

You look around when you’ve realised he’s parked, it’s a house that’s unfamiliar to you. “We’re at your house?” You assume, stepping out the car once he’s opened the door for you, hand finding yours once again.

He nods. “Yeah I left my wallet.”

You stop for a second and look up at the house, eyes narrowing when you realise you can see light through the windows, he explains that he has roommates, people you haven’t met before. Some sound familiar, some don’t. Jaemin, Donghyuck, Renjun.

“Come.” He smiles, arms outstretched when he sees hesitation in your walk and face.

Just as you’re about to walk in, you feel unsettled and confused, you look at each other and you’re surprised to see that he’s just as confused as you are. Was this a frat house? That was the only solid explanation you could think of at the moment because why was it so loud? You hear excruciating loud music from outside, the sensation making you wince and cover your ears, this truly sounded like the worst music you’ve ever heard. You see beer bottles scattered outside and you jump when the front door opens and drunken people come in and out the house, some staring at you, some are too wasted to even notice you but they all acknowledge Jeno, it overwhelms you just how many people recognise and greet him, was he that well known and popular?

“What day is it?”

You raise your eyebrows, confused as to why he doesn’t know. “It’s Sunday.”

He curses immediately, gritting his teeth, his features arranging into pure frustration. “I’m supposed to be hosting this party, I’ve completely forgotten.” He raised his voice over the crowd of people, merely giving him the bare minimum greeting when they shout his name. He's more concerned about maneuvering through the crowd, hand in hand, trying to get to a quiet room which seemed impossible due to the sheer volume of people partying.

You throb with an overwhelming intensity. The room is buzzing with a cacophony of laughter, music, and clinking glasses that engulfs the crowded space. The pulsating bass shakes the floor as bodies move in a chaotic dance, lost in the rhythm. The air is thick with the scent of alcohol, mingling with the pungent aroma of various substances. In every corner, couples share passionately making out, their connection heightened by the vibrant atmosphere. Drunken people stumble through the crowd, their laughter blending with the ambient noise. It's a sensory overload of sights and sounds, it takes a toll on you going from such a quiet and intimate place with Jeno to this complete extreme, an intoxicating atmosphere.

As you and Jeno intertwine your fingers and walk through the crowd, a ripple of hushed whispers and lingering gazes follow you. Your connection becomes a focal point, drawing a spectrum of reactions from the surrounding onlookers. Some shoot judgmental glares, their eyes carrying a hint of intimidation and it’s aimed at you, Meanwhile, others wear expressions of genuine confusion and intrigued interest, as if trying to decipher an unexpected puzzle.

The weight of attention becomes suffocating, and your thoughts spiral with self-consciousness. You second guess every move, hyper-aware of the disapproving looks and the prying eyes. The once vibrant atmosphere of the party morphs into a claustrophobic maze, trapping you in a cycle of anxious thoughts. Jeno squeezes your hand reassuringly, but the external pressures persist, triggering a sense of vulnerability.

"Jeno, everyone is staring," you whisper under your breath, unsure if he can even hear. His response is a subtle tightening of his grip on you, silently manoeuvring you in front of him. His hands then find the sides of your face, his captivating eyes drawing you in, offering an inviting refuge that makes you forget the penetrating stares.

Your heart rate steadies as he leans in, connecting his lips to yours in a surprising move. You're taken aback, wondering how he remains unfazed by the judgmental looks. It's as if he's accustomed to the attention, his confidence astonishing you. You yearn to emulate his ability to brush off the scrutiny, but the weight of judgement lingers, a stark contrast to his composed demeanour

Feeling the tension in the air, Jeno senses your unease. Without a word, he slips off his leather jacket, the scent of familiarity enveloping you as it drapes over your shoulders. The jacket, infused with his comforting essence, serves as a shield against the prying eyes and judgement.

As you pull the jacket close, the soft leather and his distinct scent create a cocoon of security. The tactile reminder of his presence eases the nervous knot in your stomach. In that shared moment under the jacket's reassuring weight, the party's chaos fades into the background, replaced by a quiet sanctuary that Jeno, with his thoughtful gesture, has crafted just for you.

“How do you forget that you’re supposed to be hosting a party?” You question, breathing a sigh of relief when he’s finally found a vacant room, closing the door behind you and immediately pressing you against the wall, content on just holding you close to him.

“I told you, I’ve only been thinking about you. You fuck me up so much.” Jeno confesses, his voice laden with desperation and a hint of a low moan. It’s a confession painted with a mix of desire and torment.

“Jeno.” You sigh, voice laden with the same desperation and hint of low moan. Your breath catches at Jeno's intense confession, his words hanging in the air like a charged current. The vulnerability in his voice resonates with you, and a swirl of emotions envelops your senses. A mixture of surprise, desire, and a tinge of uncertainty dances in your eyes as you meet his gaze.

His expression swiftly shifts to one of apology, that beloved grin fading as he peppers your face with spongy and delicate kisses. "I’m so sorry," he whispers against your skin, his words leaving you with a sense of uncertainty and questioning.

“I can’t leave.” His tone is fixed and set and it leaves you silent, a frown on your lips as he explains himself. “I have a responsibility. Even though I completely forgot that I’m throwing this party, I’m still the host. if something happens under my roof, under my party. I just – I can’t have that.”

“What could go wrong?”

He truly can’t believe you’re asking that, he widens his eyes in surprise. “So much. It’s mainly the concern of dodgy people selling drugs and fights. I need to monitor it.”

You rarely get angry and even though you’re not, you feel the first sign of it. “It’s not your responsibility. Why do you always throw parties?”

“To give people a good time and it’s for me as well, I love getting high and partying.”

The judgement in your tone is faint but you can’t help it. “Are you sure it gives you a good time? You know you need to put yourself first. You could just… I don’t know… go to the cinema or go to the pub for a wind down. Does it always have to be clubbing, drinking, alcohol and drugs?”

You can’t even tell if your words had any effect on him as he simply doesn’t react. It’s like he’s ignored everything that you’ve said. He’s quick to change the subject. “Please can you stay? I’ll get an uber for you if you can’t but it will feel really pointless if I can’t be with you after all this.”

You purse your lips and contemplate. “ This isn’t really my scene.”

“I’ll be with you the whole night.”

You’re silent, contemplating, making a list of pros and cons in your head. You know that if it takes you this long to decide something then you should probably just go against it but it’s the way he’s looking at you which is making you consider staying. He’s totally checking you out. Eyes lingering on you with an intensity. His eyes trace the curve of your shoulders, gaze holding a certain hunger, lingering on the subtle contours of your figure, appreciating the sensuality in every curve. It's a magnetic stare, filled not just with desire but also a deep, sultry fascination, as if savouring the allure of someone already known but continually unveiling new layers.

"Do you feel good? Do you feel sexy?" He breathes into your ear, a seductive murmur that elicits a whimper. He's a master at this game, a menace, knowing exactly how to coax a "yes" from your lips.

“I do.”

“It will be a shame if you don’t stay.” He peers deep into your eyes, his gaze pleading, and his lips forming a pout.

“Why?”

“You’re someone who deserves to be shown off,” he confesses, taking your hand above your head and spinning you around. He whistles at the sight of you. “I wanna show everyone what and who they’re missing out on.”

“You look so fucking good.”

At this moment you think about your ex. You wanted to be more outgoing for him, it’s not that you wanted to change who you were, you just wanted to be more adaptable and better at adapting to surroundings and atmospheres you’re unfamiliar with but you failed to do so for him, your own insecurities and lack of self confidence led to the ultimate break up.

You don’t want the same to happen, you want to be a better version of yourself. Maybe you’ll have a good time, who knows?

You nod and he smiles. “Thank you, baby.”

“I’m not gonna drink though. I know that’s gonna be like avoiding the plague in a setting like this but I don’t want to even go near alcohol. I don’t know how your parties work but if someone tries to give me a drink or even sell to me I’m gonna be so uncomfortable.”

He tightens his grip on your hand, if even possible. “I’ll be with you, don’t worry.”

“Maybe I’ll have one drink if my favourite wine is here.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You drink?”

"I don’t mind a glass every now and then; I just don’t like intense drinking; it gives me a headache," you say, pouting slightly. He can't help but find you incredibly cute, yet the paradox of your differences intrigues him. You, the last girl he imagined falling for, bring a delicious thrill down his spine. The contrast in your preferences and personalities adds a layer of excitement, making every moment with you an unpredictable journey he's more than willing to explore.

He speaks as he opens the door, leading you out of the confined room. “What’s your favourite drink?”

“I like a glass of Moscato here and there.” You smile, you’d love it right now. Its delicate notes of peach and orange blossom provide a pleasant, easy-going flavor that suits your taste preferences. This choice allows for you to have an occasional, milder indulgence without the heaviness often associated with other wines.

“Just keep by my side, ignore everyone else.” He sweetly smiles.

As you exit the confined room, You feel a newfound assurance coursing through you. With Jeno by her side, a steady and comforting presence, you navigate through the vibrant chaos of the party with a relaxed demeanour. The pulsating music and lively chatter now serve as a backdrop to your shared world. You don’t know how long it will last.

Jeno, true to his promise, remains a constant support, his hand lightly resting on the small of your back, a subtle reassurance that empowers you. As you step back into the lively atmosphere, Your gaze meets the curious and judgmental stares with newfound confidence. The weight of scrutiny dissipates, replaced by a sense of self-assurance, as you and Jeno seamlessly blend into the rhythm of the party, ready to enjoy the night together.

Moments later, Jeno gives you a cup, a knowing and prideful glint in his eyes as he does so, you eye it with confusion and wonder if he understood any of what you said to him but when he tells you to just trust him, you can’t fight with that.

As you take a sip, the liquid cascades down your throat, awakening a familiar sensation that extends beyond the taste buds. Moscato. The rich warmth of the beverage creates a parallel with the comfort you feel in Jeno's presence. It's not just the drink; it's the uncanny similarity between the smooth, familiar taste and the ease you experience with him.

“You’re unbelievable.” You mutter. In this moment, as you feel the warmth of the alcohol and his attentive gesture, your trust in Jeno deepens, a subtle fire of desire kindling within you. No one has ever made her feel so seen and appreciated, and the subtle undercurrent of attraction you feel for him heightens with each sip and lingering gaze.

“Try it.” You offer it to him, wide eyed with excitement as you hand him the same cup you drink from.

He has the smallest sip you’ve ever seen, giving you the fakest smile, you bite your tongue to hold back the laughter. “Mmmmhh.” He says, the enthusiasm not sounding wholehearted.

“You hate it.” You laugh and he nods, pouring one of his favourite beverages into another cup, when he makes you drink a sip of his for good measure, you nearly gag.

“Do we have anything in common?”

He shakes his head but answers sweetly. “It doesn’t matter.”

As time unfolds, Jeno's attentive nature becomes a delightful revelation, driving you to appreciate his considerate gestures. A dedicated table adorned with your favourite wine showcases a level of thoughtfulness that doesn't go unnoticed. While you're not going overboard with the drinks, the comfort of having the choice makes the evening feel personalised.

His attention extends to the music, playing tunes that align with your preferences. The amusing looks of distaste he expresses to certain songs add a playful touch, making the atmosphere all the more enjoyable. To top it off, the order includes the food you love, a shared delight in the delicious sushi, creating a thrilling connection between you both. Jeno's attentiveness transforms the evening into a curated experience, and you find yourself revelling in the charm of these thoughtful nuances.

“Don’t touch that.” He warns the partygoer who has his hand outstretched, ready to eat the sushi.

“It’s ok.” You shake your head, amused at Jeno.

People are saying hi to him every second, he returns the greetings and your eyes widen every time at the mass volume of faces you see, they’re all unfamiliar, it makes you think that you truly do stick with your two friends and that’s it.

It’s attractive how he can have his attention on so much yet at the same time, he monitors the party well. He’s stopped a few fights from happening and has kicked out anyone he doesn’t want here. He’s had his eye on everything and it proves a success, nothing has gone wrong. You feel like his mere presence just prevents disaster.

As he’s focusing on other things, it still feels like his full attention is on you, he’s stayed right by your side like he promised. He’s even introduced you to a few of his friends, you like to think of it more as acquaintances, there’s no way someone can have that many friends.

He whispers sweet words in your ears every now and then, his soft voice comforting you and taking you away from this lively setting.

“Let’s dance, baby.”

He’s a natural and he’s so attractive it almost starts to hurt.

You’re captivated by him, his movements seamlessly syncing with the rhythm. There's an innate allure in the way he moves, a magnetic confidence that radiates from every step and sway. The play of lights accentuates the contours of his figure, highlighting the subtle strength in his dance. As he loses himself in the music, a certain intensity flickers in his eyes, adding an extra layer to his already enticing presence. Watching Jeno move becomes a tantalising experience, awakening a newfound appreciation for the magnetic and undeniably sexy allure he effortlessly emanates

“Just let loose, baby.”

You do just that.

In the intimate embrace of the dance, your bodies press flush against each other, a magnetic connection that defies the rhythm of the music. Jeno's lips find yours in a heated dance of their own, exploring with fervour. His hands trace the contours of your body, igniting sparks of desire with every touch. In this heated moment, the world dissolves, and his focus is solely on you. It's a dance where lips speak volumes, and the only audience that matters is the intoxicating connection shared between you two.

You feel happy. Your heart beats to a melody of sheer bliss, and a contagious smile graces your lips. You realise he doesn’t shy away from PDA, he’s very touchy. You know he’s held back for so long when the two of you were just friends but now that he has the green light that you like him too, it’s full on. You thought he had become 100% with you, little do you know he’s still holding back.

“Where were we gonna go?” You ask him, curious as to what the plan was before you unexpectedly came to his party.

“It was a reservation at that place you told me about.”

Your mouth opens wide, shocked that he managed to reserve it but also sorrowful that you couldn’t make it. You much rather be there with him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll book it for another day.” He promises.

✧ ✧ ✧

Later that night, you find yourself sitting on his lap, falling deeply into the solace in your room, the atmosphere shifting from the chaotic party to an intimate haven. Legs on either side of him, you comfortably straddle Jeno, who's clearly a bit wasted. His eyelids have doubled in size, and he exudes a more flamboyant and touchy demeanour.

It's a welcomed change from the loud festivities, just the two of you basking in the quietude of the room. Smiles exchanged between you carry the weight of shared moments, and eye smiles speak volumes in the silence. There's a comfortable simplicity in the lack of conversation; you find contentment in merely sitting together.

Jeno, under the influence, becomes even more touchy, his hands finding solace on your thighs. In this tranquil haven, his touches add a layer of warmth, creating a cocoon of intimacy where unspoken connections thrive. The night unfolds with a unique serenity, a delicate dance between smiles, touches, and the quiet companionship that transcends words.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, your bottom lip slightly pouted with guilt as Jeno winces. Amidst the tender touches, you've also been tending to his wounds. Despite Jeno's insistence on preventing fights at his parties, he made an exception this time. The guy had crossed a line, taking upskirt photos and making several girls uncomfortable. Jeno, unable to tolerate such behavior, took matters into his own hands, resulting in his current state.

As you carefully dab sanitized cotton pads on his wounds, placing plasters where needed, a quiet understanding passes between you two. Jeno's soft eyes meet yours, and in that moment, the silent acknowledgment of the unwavering bond you share transcends the chaos of the night.

Jeno is a mixture of emotions, pain and pleasure, he’s huffing and puffing. It all comes to a halt when you lean forward with an endearing tenderness, kissing the spots where he is hurt. Your lips, soft and gentle, leave a trail of comfort over each injury, a healing touch that goes beyond the physical.

Jeno, despite the pain, finds himself captivated by your sweetness. Your cute and gentle demeanor sparks a warmth within him, and a subtle smile plays on his lips. The intimacy of the moment transcends the physical, creating a connection that's as soothing as it is alluring. In this exchange, the boundary between care and desire blurs, leaving you immersed in a shared space.

You’ve never seen him as needy as he is right now.

“You don’t regret tonight, do you?” His voice sounds lower and deeper.

You think about how much went off track tonight but the unpredictability was a welcome surprise for you, you felt settled and secure. “I don’t.”

“You’re such a good girl.” He says, voice filled with adoration, words whispered in a low moan.

As the night breathes tranquility into the room, Jeno's hands find their way to the zipper of your dress, mirroring the earlier gesture of care when he zipped you up. Now, in the quiet confines of your room, the air charged with a subtle intimacy, he gently unzips your dress. The delicate touch of his hands grazing your back sends a shiver down your spine, an unspoken promise lingering in the atmosphere.

In the soft glow of the room, Jeno's touches transition from practical to tender. At some point, his lips find the curve of your back, planting kisses that create a symphony of sensations. Each touch, each kiss, weaves a delicate narrative of a shared connection, an uncharted intimacy unfolding in the hushed moments of the night. The room becomes a haven where gestures speak louder than words, and the dance of hands and kisses paints a portrait of a connection that transcends the boundaries of the night.

“My. Good. Girl.” He says between kisses.

In the soft glow of the room, Jeno's passionate kisses ignite a fervor between you and him. Your dress remains unzipped, a subtle invitation that adds an electric charge to the moment. As you straddle him, a perceptible difference in his demeanour emerges — a heightened passion, electrified and intensified, likely due to being under the influence. Each touch a silent confession that speaks louder than words in the hushed ambiance of the room. He tastes like blueberries, you were sure it was the artificial flavour of the vape he had been smoking from all night,

You gently break the kiss, both of you left flustered and breathless, the air pulsating with a shared intensity that hangs between you. The unspoken energy lingers, leaving a charged silence that speaks volumes. This is a lot for you. Before you carry on, you want to know where you stand because you really fucking like him and you trust him, you’ve never imagined that you could be capable of having such strong feelings.

“Are you my boyfriend?”

He’s silent for a while and your heart nearly stops. You knew it. You fucking knew it. It was too good to be true.

Just as you were about to get the hell out of here, to recollect whatever you had left in you, he turns to you with the gentlest expression you’ve seen from him yet. It’s there, unmistakably, in the warmth of his eyes—a promise of trust and a sentiment you can fall for.

You’ve never wanted him more than you do in this moment, and just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, he utters it loud and clear, his voice a proclamation of emotions. “Yeah,” he says, smiling at your shy reaction, and in that moment, you can sense the honesty in his words.

He confesses with a joyful certainty, “I’m your boyfriend,” and the air becomes charged with a newfound sweetness. It’s a declaration that dances in your heart, and as the words settle. He’s never felt this feeling before. It’s a cute and wholesome moment, an admission that wraps around you both like a warm, comforting embrace.

Lost in the warmth of the moment, Jeno leans in, his lips meeting yours in a gentle yet deep kiss. The embrace is like sinking into a plush cushion, soft and enveloping. Lingering in the sweetness of the kiss, you both get lost in each other, the world outside fading away.

You break away before it gets heated, giggling when he grunts. “Ask me to be your girlfriend then.”

In the soft glow of the moment, you can't help but pout, a playful desire dancing in your eyes. It’s something you want to hear, a declaration that would make this moment even more special.

Seeing your yearning, he smiles, a beautifully genuine expression that holds the promise of something sweet. Unable to resist, he gives in to your request. "Will you be my girlfriend?" he asks, the words carrying the weight of a shared journey yet to unfold.

With a joyous grin, you respond, "Yeah, I will," sealing the moment with the confirmation you longed for. The air becomes charged with a newfound sweetness, and without hesitation, you close the distance between you two, a kiss marking the beginning of a beautiful chapter in your story.

Your lips move with a tender intensity, exploring his as if they hold the secrets of the universe. It's a deep connection. In this moment, the world outside is just a distant echo, and the only reality is the lingering taste of the kiss and the profound sense of being lost in each other's lips.

✧ ✧ ✧

In the midst of your relationship with him, you learned that you were his first girlfriend. You were the first person he had fallen for. Sometimes it felt like you didn’t know what you were doing, relationships were hard work but together, you fumbled through the learning curve, discovering an effortless synergy that made everything click.

As the closeness between you deepened, trust became the foundation of your connection. Previously, the memory of maintaining a distance while brainstorming ideas for the project has transformed into a stark contrast. Now, most study sessions end with you perched on his lap, the desk serving as an impromptu space for shared moments and passionate make-out sessions.

Navigating the challenges of academics together, he's proven to be both needy and comforting. Whether engrossed in gaming or university work, your presence becomes a constant as you find your place on his lap, offering silent support as he tackles tasks. The boundaries between your personal and academic lives blur, but in the chaos, you discover a comfort that transcends the ordinary.

Your relationship remains discreet, known only to those closest to you both. The private nature of your connection shields it from unwanted attention. Despite the potential challenges of not flaunting your relationship on campus, you find solace in his ability to always find a way to be with you. His frequent presence at your house becomes a source of comfort, and the moments he's absent leave an unmistakable void.

Every interaction is amplified in this heightened state of intimacy – eye contact carries newfound depth, touches resonate with electric energy, smiles become contagious, and each make-out session becomes a magnetic force pulling you closer. In this world shared only between you and him, the ordinary transforms into extraordinary moments that you wouldn't trade for anything.

Amidst the intoxicating blend of newfound romance and shared moments, there was one significant aspect that set your relationship apart. Despite being together for three months, the physical intimacy you shared hadn't yet extended to the realm of sex. It wasn't a reluctance on his part, it was you who wasn’t ready. However, there was a mutual understanding that you needed more time before taking that step.

One evening, after another study session that left the desk abandoned for a more comfortable spot on the couch, you initiated a conversation that had been lingering in the background. In the quiet sanctuary of your shared moments, you asked, "Jeno, you're not mad at me that we haven't done it yet, are you?" His response was a gentle shake of the head, accompanied by a reassuring smile. "No, baby, I'm ready when you are." His lips meet yours while you secure your thighs around his sides.

The weight of unspoken emotions lifted, and as your eyes met, you exchanged a silent understanding. "I won't leave you waiting long," you promised, a declaration that sent a delicious thrill down his spine. In that moment, your connection deepened, anchored by patience, respect, and your unspoken promise.

✧ ✧ ✧

It’s Jeno’s birthday. You’ve been planning this day for a little while now, you woke him up with a kiss at midnight, wishing him a happy birthday which led into a heated makeout session. Then when the sun rose, you made him breakfast, his favourite, pancakes and fruit.

He’s currently at his house to see his friends and family, he’s been gone for a few hours and promised you he’d come back for you soon. you’ve meticulously prepared your home for his return. The bedroom is adorned with candles, rose petals and low music creating an intimate ambiance, setting the stage for the surprise you’ve been eagerly anticipating.

You had all his presents in a designated area but the main present was what you were willing to give him, what you were finally ready for. Sunwoo had suggested that you go lingerie shopping.

Sunwoo was someone in your psychology class, you had become friends with him relatively quickly. He reminded you of Jeno, sweet but with a darker side, that’s probably why you got along with him so well. You found yourself conversing with him the most during your classes, opening up about your life, your relationship. Surprisingly, he knew the most about you and Jeno, as a fellow psychology student he was able to give you good advice and lead you towards acting with more emotional intelligence. He gave you a lot of tips for your first time, that explains why you were here, lingerie shopping.

You tried on piece after piece, your eyes lighting at how good they made you feel and look. You couldn’t believe how they accentuate your curves and cleavage, you looked hot and you were sure Jeno would think so too.

And now, you’re adorned in a captivating piece with a silk robe, your excitement palpable. Jeno has texted you that he’s 5 minutes away, nerves and giddiness take over. You’ve invested time in perfecting your makeup and hair, hoping he notices the effort.

“Hey.” You open the door to him, you’re already blushing. Your arms are around him as soon as he enters your house.

“Hey, you look beautiful.” He whispers into your ear kissing your lips briefly. He lets go to hand you over a bouquet of vibrant flowers. The colours seemed to mirror the warmth in his eyes as he extended the bouquet towards you, a silent gesture that spoke volumes of his affection.

“For you.” His gentle smile warms you, or was it his soft lips that he pressed against your cheek?

You thank him with gratitude. “It’s your birthday though.”

“I’m thankful for you.” You sigh, looking at the man who well and truly owns your heart. “It will look good in that vase by the window in my room. Speaking of my room, come with me.” You hand out stretches for him and he takes it then let’s go, you shoot him a confused glance until he suddenly lifts you up. you squel, legs around his waist as he leads you up the stairs and to your room, a journey that he knows too well.

As you enter your room, he gently places you down, his eyes instantly igniting with desire at the sight of you. A breathtaking smile graces his face, a mix of gratitude and admiration evident in his eyes. "Thank you, my love," he murmurs, hand covering his heart, and his gaze overflowing with warmth as it locks onto yours.

"You like it?" you inquire, and a subtle nod is accompanied by a tender embrace, his arms enveloping you securely. He pulls you close, resting his head against your shoulder, an intimate moment filled with unspoken emotions. "I have more gifts for you later, but for now, there's one special gift I want to share."

His anticipation heightens as you guide him to sit on the bed. You notice his eyes deepening with desire, a subtle gulp betraying his eagerness. As you approach, a confident smile plays on your lips. Standing in front of him, you take the lead, revealing the silk robe's buttons.

His breath quickens, a heavy exhale escaping in a mix of impatience and desire. There's a primal urgency in the way he reacts, a husky moan escaping as he practically tears the buttons away, surprising you with his raw intensity, far from the delicate touch you anticipated.

You look him in the eye as you lead his hands to the buttons on your bathrobe, he becomes speechless as he rips the buttons off.

You embody a confidence that is alluring. The lingerie is elegant and sensual, a beautiful mix of silk and lace. The bra is a deep red with gold trimming, while the corset is made from a thin layer of silk with a layer of lace over the top. The panties are cut low on the hips, with a thin lace trim on the edge. The whole look is very feminine and sensual, making you feel like a goddess.

“Y/N…” He moans loudly, fingertips burning into your sides as his eyes roam over you, taking in every inch of your gorgeous and seductive body. “You planned this for me?” Jeno’s voice is a low growl, fingers fumbling with the buttons on your robe, eager to unwrap the gift you’ve prepared.

Your curves are perfect, like a goddess. Your skin is smooth and silky under the moonlight, the lace around your hips draws his attention first, eyes wavering as he doesn’t know where to look. You embody confidence, a goddess in the sultry lingerie — deep red silk with gold trim, a perfect blend of elegance and sensuality. The corset, a delicate layer of silk overlaid with lace, accentuates your curves. His moans echo your allure, fingers burning into your sides as his hungry gaze roams over your captivating figure

The red silk of your bra isn’t covering anything, it’s so see through and he can see your hard nipples peeking through the gold trimming, his mouth watering as he wants to wrap his tongue around the bud of skin, he wants to be sucking your nipples. Everything about you is perfect, from your smooth skin to your slender frame.

“F-Fuck, baby,” he grunts, strong hands, his arm veins bulging out as he’s tugging at the lingerie, unable to contain his impatience. “Need this off. Need to see you.” He says with an impatient growl, the material ripping off and breaking in one swift movement as he palms his erection, hands moving underneath his boxers as you can hear how wet he is

Pouting, you protest, “Jeno, I got this for you. It’s special.”

“I don’t care, baby. I’ll buy you more. Need to feel you,” he replies. You’re left standing bare, his eyes devouring every inch of your exposed beauty. You don’t shy away from his heated gaze, looking you up and down with such fervent and impatience in his expression.

He lets out the loudest moan, eyes lingering on your boobs and your pussy, mouth watering and breath hitched in his throat. “Fuck baby, You’re all mine.” He whispers into your ear, bringing you down onto the bed and then turning the two of you around so you were under him. He palms his clothed erection, leaning down to rub it against your outer core, dry humping but only you were naked. “Do you see how hard you make me? Fuck, you turn me on so much.”

Curiosity takes your hands under his boxers, exploring his length. A soft whimper escapes as you realize the sheer size. Desperate to feel him, your hands glide along, expressing the longing within. “I’ve dreamt of you inside me for so long,” you confess, your voice filled with anticipation.

Locking your gaze in place, he cradles your head, maintaining the connection. His lips explore your breasts with tender kisses, leaving a trail of wetness and red marks. “You’re everything,” you murmur, hands embracing his cock, tracing its length. “I’ve yearned for this.”

You gasp out his name when his lips pepper around your nipple, moving with a delicious ferver, kissing and sucking with equal measure, his tongue darting out to soothe any spot where he's been too rough. He releases your nipple with a loud pop, his loud moan making your pussy acne. His lips move to your interboob, peppering wet kisses along the skin, his trail leaving wetness and red marks.

He locks your head in one place, forcing you to keep your gaze focused on him. “Tell me, how badly do you want me?”

You flutter your eyelashes at him, moaning loudly, breathing frantically. You don’t want to mask yourself, you move your finger inside your clit, dragging it in one swift motion to reveal how wet you are. This action undeniably turns him on, what fucks him up even more is when you brazenly place your digit into his mouth, your unspoken words to demonstrate how wet you are. The taste of you sends a refreshing chill through his taste buds, as your icy sweetness gradually melts and coats his tongue.

“You need to use your words.” He breathes out heavily, ironically he’s struggling to balance breathing and speaking.

You cup his cheeks and hold him close, gently kissing him, your eyes soft and inviting, the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen and it’s driving him crazy, he wants to ruin you yet you’re still acting so fucking cute.

“I want you so fucking bad. I want you to eat my cunt and then fuck my cunt, Jeno, please, baby.”

You feel his hot breath on your face, dark eyes as he comes to whisper against your ear. “So wet and horny for me already, this is better than what I’ve imagined. Look at what a dirty little whore you are for me, so wet for me, begging for me to fuck your cunt.”

You hear a dark chuckle beside your ear and then you’re flipped around, you’re on top of him, you nearly got whiplash from how quickly he grabbed your hips and switched your positions.

“Come and sit on my face.” He commands, a tone that you don’t want to cross with. You’re so turned on, pussy throbbing for him that you forget to move. “Right now.”

“That’s it, baby.” He mumbles against your skin, gripping the meat on your thighs, hands gripping your bare ass to pull you down until you’ve securely framed his face. He can’t help but spank you before delving into your cunt.

His tongue delves into you without warning, your clit throbbing for him. He eats like a man starved, tongue delving into all the right places, eliciting a moan from you. Your thighs shake around his head as he tongue fucks uou at a more accelerated pace, the wetness of your pussy meeting his tongue. He devours all the juices with a groan.

“So fucking tight for me, pretty girl.” He grunts against you, a smooching sound and he kisses your cunt over and over again. “I love how you taste, such a good fucking girl.” He’s filled with praises today.

He makes room for three digits, an act that perplexes you because your cunt seemed so small and his fingers were so long. Your hands squeeze against his roots as he fingers you, his metal rings creating a coldness as he caresses your folds, an upward motion that makes you scream his name.

He tuts at what a dirty girl you’re being when you keep pushing down, your core pressing down so hardly on his nose but you’re so desperate for more, you’re on the verge of becoming undone on his tongue and fingers. Tears prick your eyes, you’re overstimulated at this point, whining and pleading with your eyes but it’s not enough.

“I’m not gonna let you cum yet.”

You cry out. “Why not?”

He doesn’t answer but you know why, it’s because he’s not done.

So you start begging and pleading, you tell him what he wants to hear, pulling at his strings how you know best. “You’re the owner of me.” You smile, thrusting against him as your grip on his hair tightens. “My cunt is all yours.”

He’s silent for a moment, then you feel the sides of his lips curve upwards against you. “All mine.” He whispers, leaving a spongy and chaste kiss against your clit. “I own you cunt.” His tongue laps at a faster rate, it only takes a few seconds for your high to come.

“Cum in me, baby.” You’re shaking above him and screaming out his name, the hot liquid pours into his mouth at once, he savours every last drop, the taste of you sending a delicious thrill down his spine.

As soon as you’ve wind down from your orgasm, you let out a whimper, looking at him with a frustrated pout, tugging on his hair once again. “Fuck me. Now.” He smiles at you, looking you deep in the eyes to capture the moment. He’s frozen in time, you lie there, a captivating beauty that demands attention. Your beauty unfolds gracefully, a canvas of anticipation. Patience graces your demeanour, a cute smile playing on your lips. Eyes wide with eagerness, each breath carries a weight of intensity. Messy hair adds a touch of chaos to the scene, a testament to passion's fervor. Love bites adorn your neck, eyeliner trailing down your face, mascara smudged and lipstick kissed away. Your swollen lips speak volumes. In this enchanting moment, he utters, "So fucking beautiful," and you become entirely his.

“I could just cum looking at you. Fuck baby don’t make me cum yet, it’s all about you.”

You pout. “It’s your birthday.”

He kisses your cheek softly. “It’s all about you.”

He curses suddenly and it draws your surprise, he looks at you with apology, disappointment thick in his eyes. “I forgot to bring protection, what the fuck is wrong with me? It’s the one important –”

You cut him off, a smile playing on your lips as you guide him to your entrance. “I started the pill a month ago.” You have been planning this day. He moans, a mix of being turned on and having adoration for you filling his desires. “You’re so good to me. You’re all mine.” He breathes heavily, lips closing onto yours as he enters you with a big grunt.

The second the sensation hits you, you cry out his name. “Fuck! You’re so fucking big.” You grip onto his forearms, head hitting the pillow as you look down to see where you’re connected, breath moving with anxiety when you realise his tip has only entered you.

“It won’t fit.” You cry out, covering your face with your hands. You navigate a mix of sensations, discomfort and pleasure. Jeno coos in your ear, easing you into him, expertly stretching you out, the discomfort slowly transforms into a growing sensation of pleasure.

“Yes it will.” His words convey the shared ecstasy of the moment, kissing your face softly and whispering praise upon praise as you ease into him, your tense body starting to relax and melt into his. “You’re such a good girl for me, taking me so well.” The connection between you intensifies with each rhythmic motion.

Your boyfriends deep voice echoes, he’s calling you all sorts, his good girl, his baby girl, he’s filled with praises but you're lost in a distant reverie, enveloped in the euphoria of his rhythmic movements, his cock sliding against your walls and reaching a realm so deep. Each thrust brings forth sharp gasps, the intimate connection intensifying as he explores deeper realms of pleasure. The sensation, a culmination of his every movement, is undeniably gratifying, leaving you immersed in the exquisite pleasure of the moment.

“You’re taking me so fucking well.”

Jeno admires the scene, picking up the pace with a faster rhythm, thrusting out just to keep slamming into you. Your toes curl in pleasure, your flushed face and agape mouth reflecting the intensity of the moment. Moans escape your mouth as desire takes over, your eyes glazed with lust, looking down as his hands cup your breasts, each thrust accentuates the pleasure, causing your tits to bounce with abandon.

Intense and breathless, he expresses his overwhelming pleasure with a raw exclamation. responding with short gasps to each thrust. Skin slapping against skin, heavy breaths, his low moans, your calling out of his name and the rhythm of his intense thrusts fill the room, creating a charged atmosphere.

Adjusting your position, he lifts your hips and throws one of your legs over his shoulder, his cock delving into you even deeper. The exquisite sensation elicits a visceral response, your nails finding purchase in the skin of his forearms as pleasure courses through every inch of your being.

You’re quite simply cock drunk. “You’re gonna break my bed.” You scream, the squeaking becoming a constant. He hugs your g-spot over and over, hips moving at speed as you scream his name, back arching and toes curling, making it clear that he's the sole master of your ecstasy in that moment.

You find him utterly breathtaking like this, eyes filled with lust, his muscular scent, sweet sticking to his forehead, his radiant face under the moonlight. His beauty remains undeniable. “You’re mine, only mine,” You declare, this time it’s you solidifying the possessive connection in the midst of the intimate encounter.

“That’s right.” He smirks with satisfaction.

The knot tightens in your stomach and your mind succumbs to a blissful haze. You wrap your legs around his waist and he fucks you in this new position, deeper and harder.

“Jeno, fuck! I’m gonna cum!” you cry out. Hands gripping the sides of his face, smiling as you close the distance, symbolising your connection in a shared kiss.

“Me too, baby, me too.” His eyes rolling to the back of his head, hands roaming your body as his grunts and moans elevate,

“Cum in me.” You let out a small whisper, a heavy sigh of desperation as your pussy feels numb, you see stars behind your eyelids as he coos in your ear. Caught in a post-orgasmic daze, you sense Jeno’s movements slowing, his groans low and primal. As he releases inside you, the intimate connection lingers in the hushed aftermath.

Exhausted but determined, you summon every ounce of strength, gripping onto his shoulders and managing to turn him around. Despite the weariness, you take charge, your wearied efforts transforming into a newfound control as you settle on top of him.

Fatigued but fueled by desire, you climb back onto his cock. The fusion of weariness and desire manifests in every deliberate movement, creating an enticing dance as you reclaim the intimate connection. Guided by a languid rhythm, you move up and down, your movements acquiring a delightful sloppiness and an unbridled sensuality.

“Oh?” He questions, playful and surprised tone as he raises an eyebrow. Despite the confusion, a smirk plays on his lips as he gazes up at you. His eyes, filled with affection, he doesn't question your actions, yielding to your lead as you continue to ride him.

“You gonna ride me baby? Gonna take the lead?” He questions as you straddle him with a sensual grace, your movements creating a mesmerizing rhythm. Each rise and fall is a languid dance, your body moving with a delightful combination of passion and fatigue. The connection between you intensifies, the room filled with the subtle sounds of your shared pleasure. As you ride him, his appreciative gaze reflects both desire and affection, forming a silent but profound connection between your entwined bodies.

While you’re on top, he still has to make it clear that he’s taking the lead, a playful smirk on his lips, as one of his hands guides your movements, orchestrating the rise and fall of your body. The other hand, however, held a more commanding role, wrapping around your throat with a controlled intensity, you struggled for breath and it made you dizzy, your rise and fall on his cock becoming sloppier.

“Dirty slut is so eager to ride my cock but now you’re getting tired?” He hisses, tutting as he shakes his head.

You shook your head, breathing in deep as you put all of your strength into moving up and down his cock, the synchronisation of your bodies became a sensual performance, each deliberate motion met with a reaction that heightened the intimacy. His touch was both guiding and possessive, the mix of sensations sending shivers down your spine. The room echoed with the rhythmic sounds of your shared desire, creating a symphony that underscored the unconventional celebration.

Eventually, as the intensity peaked, he encouraged your surrender. You collapsed onto him, limbs entwined, the air heavy with the scent of passion. His firm hold remained, a subtle assertion of dominance even in the aftermath. Exhausted yet content, you found solace in each other's embrace. Drifting into sleep, the room remained cloaked in the warmth of the shared celebration, a birthday memory unlike any other.

In the tender aftermath, Jeno swiftly leans down to share another kiss, lips melding seamlessly. His touch, now gentle, explores your hair, while your hands cradle his face. Traces of each other linger on your bodies, leaving indelible imprints. The nature of your connection might be uncertain, but a serene tranquillity fills the air as he gazes into your eyes, a gentle smile gracing his face, he utters, "You're so beautiful."

You end up falling asleep in Jeno's warm embrace, limbs tangled with limbs, heart beating as one. Amidst his calming snores, you find a happiness that had eluded you for a long time.

✧ ✧ ✧

Your relationship with Jeno, to simply put it, had developed into something beyond your wildest dream. It had evolved into a cascade of passion, sensuality, and profound love. The intimacy between you two deepened, finding solace in each other's embrace more frequently than ever. However, Jeno's imperfection lies in impatience and an insatiable addiction.

He's hooked on you, craving the essence of your being — your body, the echoes of his name in ecstasy, the taste of your release, the feel of your lips, the warmth of your intimate connection. In a fervent repetition, he murmurs "mine, mine, mine" against your skin, solidifying the possessive claim he's staked over you.

His impatience surfaces as an ever-present yearning. When you're not around, he misses you deeply, and the count of unannounced visits to your door is immeasurable. His unconventional greetings involve sealing his lips against yours, a silent declaration of his longing that often echoes through the early morning hours, punctuated by the sound of your shared passion.

You're equally sucked in the allure of addiction, captivated by Jeno, the enigma you've grown to adore. The depth of your connection extends beyond the fiery passions to the tender embrace of his arms wrapping around you, you feel endless warmth and security. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest beneath your head becomes a lullaby, soothing you into a serene state. In the quiet moments, tangled in each other's limbs, you find solace and an escape from the chaos of the world. Waking up to the tender gaze of his soft eyes and the warmth of his gentle smile has become the cherished highlight of your days.

You’ve become undone by his cock or his tongue in an array of intoxicating positions and locations. In the heat of his car, vacant rooms on campus or when you both escaped to a secluded retreat for three nights, the allure of each moment intensifies. You spent the entirety under sheets, the steamy rhythm of the shower, against walls, upon the floor, and against your desk— every corner of your house has been a canvas for your desires.

His touch, both restrained and blindfolded, adds a layer of mystery and anticipation, creating an irresistible blend of pleasure and surrender. Your lingerie, once delicately clinging to your curves, now bears the marks of his primal hunger, a testament to the wild intensity that defines your connection. The diversity of these encounters paints a vivid picture of your love, leaving an unmistakable imprint on every surface and scrap of fabric shared between you. Each escapade is a symphony of passion, a daring exploration of desire that keeps the flame burning bright in the intimate spaces you've claimed together.

You always find yourself restrained, blindfolded, there hasn’t been a piece of lingerie that hasn’t ripped from your body.

He can be soft too.

The overwhelming sensations he feels for you, the flutters and heavy beating of his heart. The sex between you and Jeno very rarely, but more often than he expected, takes on a soft and sweet rhythm. It’s a realm of vulnerability and tenderness, a side of him unexplored and new, venturing into the realms of vanilla passion.

After dates, he brings you home, his sanctuary, where the air is infused with affection and the scent of shared moments. His lips on every inch of your skin, an exploration of your body. His touches echo with reverence, each inch of your skin becoming a canvas for his affection. The air is filled with soft whispers, intimate and strong eye contact, soft smiles and the gentle hums of each other's names, a private serenade that only the two of you share.

In a surprising deviation from the usual, he doesn’t hastily rip away your lingerie but takes a moment to appreciate the delicate lace and silk adorning you. It becomes an act of love, a departure from the fervour, as he makes love to you whilst you’re adorned in the sensual lace.

Soft smiles exchange like secret promises, and amidst it all, his words echo softly, “my pretty girl,” encapsulating the beauty of the shared connection that transcends the raw passion to unveil a softer, more intimate love.

You've seamlessly integrated into Jeno's life, becoming a constant presence at his house, something that used to scare you but now the boundaries between you and his friends blur. They’re always walking into you and Jeno fucking, you have this acceptance that they have seen you naked.

The unexpected intrusions are sometimes awkward but you’ve learned that your boyfriend secretly loves it, it turns him on. He embraces the fact that they've witnessed you in intimate positions.

There was one memorable evening when Jeno was meant to be preparing dinner for his roommates, Jaemin, Hyuck, and Renjun. However, the evening took an unexpected turn when he found himself utterly distracted by you. What was supposed to be a casual dinner preparation morphed into a passionate encounter, you pushed against the countertop as he fucked into you, the sounds of your pleasure echoing through the walls. Your loud moans carried through the air, and to your surprise, his roommates walked in, initially thinking there was an emergency.

It was a comical yet slightly embarrassing moment, but the incident didn't deter your unabashed enjoyment. You've reached a point where you no longer attempt to stifle your sounds of pleasure, accepting the quirks and unexpected interruptions that come with being an integral part of Jeno's life.

✧ ✧ ✧

While there’s highs in your relationship, there’s undeniable lows. While the passion has increased to another level, so has the arguing.

You remember one time, you were supposed to meet him outside a cinema, he promised to take you out that night, one of your many dates but he never showed up. Instead, he was partying. He spoke to you on the phone, voice filled with apology as he pleaded for you to understand, he quite simply couldn’t get out, it was one of the parties that he attended, it blew out of control.

“I’m sorry baby, I promise I’ll make it up to you.” You heard his apologetic voice, loud music and screams of partygoers in the background.

You’re too frustrated to respond. You hang up the phone with no further words.

You had it planned out in your head, you was gonna give him the intense silent treatment, ignore all his texts and calls, ignore when he rings the bell and most importantly, hold back on kissing or fucking him. Yet here you are at an unreasonable hour, in the front seat of his car, your usual passenger princess role that you had become so accustomed to.

“Y/N.” He gives you a warning, voices a low lull, he wasn’t even looking at you, he stares out the window, gaze distant, refusing to start the car until you gave in to what he wanted.

He knows you’re angry at him. His response to it is what sets you off even more, he’s not said sorry once for standing you up. That’s why you’re acting the way you are, refusing to meet his eyes, dodging his lips when he greeted you, pushing him away when he tried to hug you.

That’s why your hands stay nestled in your lap, you don’t want his contact but eventually you need to give in. Your boyfriend, being the most stubborn person you know, would not start the car until you held his hand, he doesn’t tell you that it’s the reason he’s staying still, jaw locked as he looks out the window but his warning as he called out your name and his outstretched hand is enough to make you sigh in defeat, giving in and taking his hand in yours. He always does this. He drives with one hand if it means that he can hold your hand and touch your thigh with the other.

The second his hand tightened around yours, you feel guilty at how his touch instantly electrified you, sending warm chills down your body. You missed him so much. He finally starts the car, turning to you with that smile you love so much, one that pulls at your heartstring.

As he held your hand with his vacant one, kissing your palm softly.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” He’s apologised to you but you take nothing from it.

He sighs, realising that you’re giving him the silent treatment but he still continues his praises and sweet talking to you. “You look so pretty, you don’t think I’ve noticed? I’ll make it all up to you, I promise.”

You gulp, biting your tongue to hold back from breaking down in front of him. It’s true. You’re so dolled up, you spent so long getting ready, smiling once you saw the finished result, the prettiest full face of makeup and one of the dresses Jeno had gifted you, all for the self confidence to come crashing down when he never showed up.

“Aren’t you even gonna ask me why I couldn’t come?” He questions, opening the passenger door for you, hand outstretched to which you ignore.

You cross your arms against your chest. “I don’t care.”

He sighs. “Are you gonna let me stay the night?” He questions, leaning against the car door, eyes searching yours for a hint of forgiveness. The silence between you is heavy, tension palpable in the air.

Finally, you break the silence with a reluctant nod. He smiles, a mixture of relief and gratitude, and you find yourself softening despite your initial resolve.

There was two reasons why you said yes. You did miss him, you’ve become accustomed to falling asleep in his arms and you need him now more than other and the second reason was a bit selfish.

Jeno’s smile fades as he takes in the room with awe, the flickering candles casting shadows that dance across his face. Rose petals are scattered, creating a delicate pathway that seems to lead to a deep well of guilt within him.

“We would be having sex right now, we’d probably be having it all night long but instead you went partying and stood me up.”

His expression shifts, and you sense his internal conflict as he searches for words. “I’m sorry,” he finally utters, the words heavy with sincerity. “Please let me show you how sorry I am. I’ll take you on the best dates for seven nights straight.”

Jeno steps closer, a subtle seduction in his eyes. “Let me try to make it up to you,” he whispers, his voice filled with desperation.

But you stand firm, resisting his advances. “You went partying and stood me up,” you say, frustration coloring your tone. “I’m even wearing something really sexy under this, but it’s your fault that you won’t see it.”

Instinctively, his arms wrap around your waist, he gets whiplash from how fast you jerk away from his touch. His face reflects shock, realizing the consequences of his actions. “You’re not touching me tonight,” you declare, a line drawn in the emotional sand.

Jeno, not used to you rejecting his touch, looks bewildered. “We’re two mature adults,” you continue, your voice firm. “Talk to me about your emotions. I don’t think you’ve ever truly opened up to me.”

"I stayed at the party because of Jaemin, alright? His girlfriend had just dumped him, and he was spiraling out of control. I couldn't leave him alone—I was genuinely worried. You know how he gets, especially with hard drugs in the mix. My instincts were right; without me there, it could've turned into a disaster. He's my best friend, and I have a responsibility to look out for him. I'm truly sorry if my actions hurt you. Next time, I'll handle it better. I want you to know, you're my top priority. You're not my second choice; you're my girlfriend, my girl, and I never want you to feel anything less than my first choice. Always."

You pout, suddenly feeling so guilty. “You should’ve just told me that, next time just tell me the truth, ok? We need communication if this is gonna work.” Your words are punctuated by a tender kiss, a sweet moment as he nods, leaning his head down and resting it against your shoulder.

✧ ✧ ✧

Soft giggles escape your lips, blending with the gentle rustle of leaves as you steal a kiss from him. The world outside becomes a blissful blur, leaving only the two of you in the cocoon of your affection. He looks up at you, moaning softly, his hands gripping the back of your hair to pull you back down to his lips again.

The university campus buzzes with youthful energy, a tapestry of autumn leaves falling gently, creating a mosaic of warm hues. The scent of coffee and distant laughter fills the air, creating an atmosphere of shared dreams and academic pursuits. Amidst this lively backdrop, you and Jeno sit by the beautiful flowers, your favourite summer dress on as he lays his head on your lap, your hands locked as you share a casual lunch on campus with friends.

The sun filters through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the ground as you lean down to whisper something in his ear, a moment solely for the two of you. In that moment, surrounded by the chatter of friends, you close your lips in on his, the world quieting to the symphony of your happiness.

Your connection with Jeno forms a bubble that shields you from the prying eyes and whispers around you. One unexpected night, Sunwoo’s concern breaks through as you both share the living room, a movie playing in the background.

"Y/N, how is it going with Jeno?" Sunwoo inquires, her words carrying an undercurrent of worry.

A genuine smile lights up your face as you reply, "I'm really happy." However, the joy fades when you see the expression on Sunwoo’s face. "Is everything okay?"

He takes a deep breath, her concern evident. "I care about you, and I just want you to be happy. I can see you're in your honeymoon phase with him, and it's amazing, but please stay careful. I've heard things, and I need you to be aware."

Your head tilts in confusion, and he continues, "People have been mean and jealous, saying horrible things about both of you. I don't want to go into detail, but there are malicious individuals who would do anything to break you two up. Jealousy is a green-eyed devil, and I want you to be cautious. Every time you're seen together on campus, people are talking, and unfortunately, it's not all good. You're drawing a lot of attention, and I need you to be aware of the rumours circulating."

Just like that, your comfort bubble has been shattered. It wasn't his fault; he was being a good friend, and the truth was bound to come to light, considering the magnetic stares that seemed to follow you everywhere. Peering eyes traced your every move, intensifying every time you held hands with Jeno, shared a kiss, or simply engaged in conversation.

Before, you had a shield, a blissful ignorance that shielded you from the judgmental glances and whispered rumours. Now, you have nothing. The weight of those scrutinizing eyes presses down on you, and a surge of anxiety rises within. It's as if the once familiar campus has transformed into a stage where every step is observed and dissected by an unseen audience.

The secure haven you once had with Jeno is now tainted by the awareness of the scrutiny around you. The casual joy you shared now carries a hint of unease as you navigate through the campus, wondering about the malicious whispers and unfounded rumors that threaten to unravel the serenity of your relationship.

The once intimate haven of your relationship now feels exposed, the whole realm shifting under the weight of everyone's knowledge. It's as if an unwelcome spotlight has been cast upon you, and the familiar campus, once a place of shared joy, now echoes with the cruel whispers and judgmental glances that follow you everywhere.

The anxiety, a silent predator, wraps around your chest, constricting with every scrutinizing look. The rude eyes that pierce through your privacy seem to steal away fragments of your self-worth with each passing glance. You feel stripped bare, a vulnerability that leaves you yearning for the comfort of invisibility.

Jeno, seemingly impervious to the storm of judgment, becomes an inadvertent source of envy. These people, with their whispers and stares, never seem to penetrate his shield. He navigates through the campus with an ease that only amplifies the stark contrast to your inner turmoil.

One day, Jeno surprises you with flowers on campus, a tender gesture that should bring joy. But as he leans in for a kiss, you find yourself recoiling, aware of the peering eyes, the whispers, the judgment. His pout mirrors your disconnection as you take the flowers, your voice detached as you mutter a thank you.

He leans forward again, attempting to kiss you, but you dodge it. Surprise flickers in his eyes, replaced by a gentle pout. "Baby?" he questions, reaching out to touch you, but you evade his grasp.

"What's wrong?" he asks, concern lacing his voice.

"I don't want to kiss you because everyone keeps looking at you, at us," you confess, the weight of your unease finally surfacing.

"Y/N..." he begins, his voice a mixture of understanding and frustration, as he tries once more to bridge the gap between you. His eyes search yours with a mix of understanding and concern. “We can’t let people do this to us, this is us, me and you and the last thing I’ll let people do is dictate our relationship and make you uncomfortable.”

You try to focus on him, his smile, his soft words, his caring demeanour but all you can feel is the attention from outsiders. Your hands tremble imperceptibly, breathing becomes a conscious effort, each inhale and exhale a struggle against the weight of judgment hanging in the air. Your heart, a delicate percussion, echoes the rhythm of your anxiety, its beats amplified in the silent turmoil.

Tears, uninvited, well up in your eyes, and as you nod, they cascade down your cheeks, a tangible manifestation of the emotional toll. In that moment, vulnerability wraps around you like a heavy cloak. It feels as though you’ve done something wrong, an unspoken guilt that weakens your resolve.

The world outside blurs through the veil of tears, intensifying the sense of fragility that envelopes you. Jeno's tender touch wipes them away, his fingertips brushing softly against your skin. His eyes mirror an understanding so deep that it feels like a comforting embrace.

"Hey," he whispers, turning towards you with the softest voice, a gentleness that envelops you like a warm blanket. Leaning down, he cups your face, his touch gentle and reassuring. Everything else fades into a distant hum as you melt into him.

"Look at me," he urges, his eyes a haven of empathy. Your gaze meets his, and the vulnerability that you've felt transforms into a shared moment of intimacy. Jeno's presence becomes a blockage, shielding you from the judgmental world outside.

"Keep your eyes on me, not them," he murmurs, his words a balm to your wounded spirit. In that quiet exchange of glances, your heart slowly begins to relax. Jeno's comforting presence, combined with the unspoken promise in his eyes, creates a sanctuary where vulnerability is met with love, and every tear is met with the tenderness of understanding.

Feeling the reassurance of Jeno's presence, a warmth blooms in your chest. As he wipes away the last of your tears, you're overwhelmed by the tenderness in his eyes. Unable to resist the urge, you bridge the small gap between you, pressing a sweet, grateful kiss against his lips.

As the kiss lingers, Jeno pulls back, his eyes searching yours with concern. "Is anyone being mean to you?" His voice takes on a protective edge, a sincerity that resonates through the words. "If they are, I'll deal with them. I won't let anyone hurt you."

“I’ll tell you if anything happens.” You whisper. Jeno’s eyes search yours with a sincerity that demands your attention. “Promise me,” he implores, his voice a gentle plea.

"I promise." you affirm, instinctively outstretching your pinky, a whimsical gesture that seals promises between the two of you.

But Jeno, momentarily disregarding the lighthearted tradition, leans in and seals the promise with a sweet kiss. The warmth of his lips lingers, and a playful smile dances across his face. "You can't break it now." he teases, the gravity of the moment lightening.

You nod, the weight of the promise settling in your heart. "I won't." you assure him, a sense of determination in your eyes.

"I got you, Y/N."

✧ ✧ ✧

You don’t keep your end of the promise.

You and Jeno were on one of your many dates, except this one was the most luxurious of all. He had taken you to a a high-end dining establishment where opulence meets culinary excellence. As you step into this gastronomic haven, the ambiance drips with luxury. Chandeliers, resplendent in their crystal glory, cast a warm and flattering glow upon the tastefully adorned surroundings.

There was an atmosphere of sophistication. The air is laced with the subtle scent of exclusive fragrances, adding to the sensory experience. Every detail, from the meticulously arranged silverware to the plush velvet seating, screams extravagance.

The entire upper floor was just for you. Seclusion embraced the space as you and Jeno reveled in each other. Wrapped in a corset top that accentuated your every curve, you felt the warmth of Jeno's gaze fixated on the allure of your silhouette. A daring mini black skirt that barely covered your ass.

A long coat provided a modesty, concealing the sensual ensemble beneath. The promise of privacy on this exclusive floor lingered, and as the door closed behind you, the coat slipped away, unveiling an enticing look reserved solely for Jeno's eyes.

In the dimly lit, darkened expanse of the top floor, a sexy ambiance enveloped you both. The low music set the tone, creating an intimate atmosphere where only the sultry sounds of Jeno's low moans and your soft hums echoed, blending seamlessly with the alluring surroundings. Seated on plush furnishings, the connection ignited as you found solace on his lap. Jeno wasted no time, roughly removing your underwear and your corset, your boobs bouncing as you jumped up and down his cock.

Boyfriend air was real. You had radiated beauty before he picked you up – your makeup meticulously enhancing your features, and your hair styled with grace. Yet, now you sit here, a mess. His kisses had erased every last trace of makeup.

"Baby, stay here," he whispers, his warm breath lingering against your lips. "I'm just getting the bill." Leaning down, he plants a tender kiss on your forehead, sealing the promise of a swift return.

"Do you wanna come over to mine?" he suggests with a playful grin. You nod, your arms instinctively looping around his neck. "I'll drive us home," he declares, a warmth in his eyes. In that moment, it's clear – you just want to be with him, wherever the night may lead.

In the softly lit ambiance of the upscale restaurant, you patiently wait for him, preparing to put on your bra and top. Unexpectedly, an unwelcome intrusion disrupts the tranquility. Your mouth hangs open in shock, and before you can react, your chest is briefly exposed as a female waitress enters the room.

Quickly, you grab your coat to cover yourself, staring at her with a mix of surprise and discomfort. "What the hell?" escapes your lips, a blend of embarrassment and frustration.

You recall her as your waitress for the night, part of the restaurant's unique service where each floor and couple has a dedicated server. The bell, your discreet summoner, has been unrung, making her presence inappropriate.

She looks at you with a hint of disdain, and the encounter triggers a familiar sense of vulnerability. The ambiance of the restaurant feels stark, and the unexpected exposure intensifies your embarrassment. The thin fabric of the coat becomes a modest shield, but the discomfort lingers.

As you lock eyes with the waitress, who seems to take pleasure in your discomfort, memories of past judgmental stares resurface, adding to your unease. The sanctuary you usually find with Jeno is momentarily disrupted, replaced by an uncomfortable sense of exposure. The discomfort you've navigated with Jeno's support resurfaces, threatening to overwhelm you.

Recognizing her now, you realize she's a fellow student at your college. The slight awkwardness you noticed during her service takes on a new significance. You remember the way her eyes seemed to light up, especially when serving Jeno, which triggered a fleeting sense of jealousy. But it's a feeling you've grown used to – after all, Jeno is a heartthrob and everyone wants him.

While a twinge of jealousy briefly pricked at you, Jeno remained blissfully unaware of the waitress's admiration. It simply didn't register on his radar. He's become accustomed to such attention, unfazed by occasional glances and admirations. To him, these moments are like passing breezes – gentle and unnoticed.

Seated arrogantly on the table in front of you, she exuded an air of contempt, her eyes reflecting the rudeness that her entire demeanour conveyed. From the start of the night, her motives were glaringly apparent. You initially dismissed it as mere overthinking, the disinterest as she served you, the muttered words and the frigid expression with frozen eyes heightened your sense of unease. However her attention was completely different towards Jeno, it went from blatant flirtation to being overly helpful and kind.

"You know, seeing you with Jeno is disappointing. He deserves so much better. I don’t think you realize what a downgrade you are for him," she sneered, her words laden with contempt.

With a sinister grin, she continued, "Every other girl he’s been with beats you, by miles. In looks, in sex…"

As she casually mentioned sharing an intimate moment with Jeno, she revealed a video that sent tears streaming down your face. It’s taken from earlier, a moment you shared in solace but your feel vulnerable and exposed knowing she had been watching the whole time. The hurt intensified as she criticized your appearance and demeaned your connection with Jeno.

"Why the fuck have you filmed this?" you demanded, the raw emotion evident in your voice.

"Do you see how ugly you look? Watching this nearly made me sick. You’re not pleasing Jeno the way he deserves. You’re too soft and vanilla. Having slept with Jeno myself, he’s probably the best sex I’ve ever had. It's a shame he can't be rough with you because you're too much of a pussy," she taunted.

She questioned the authenticity of Jeno's feelings, suggesting he was using you as a distraction. Her venomous words stung as she predicted an inevitable heartbreak for you.

"I want him. And so does every other girl. It’s not fair that he’s with you. One day he’s gonna go back to his fuckboy ways. Just watch," she warned, her possessiveness on full display.

"Now you will stay away from him. I’m warning you now. Do not cross me. It will not be good if I see you together next week," she threatened, leaving a chilling anticipation hanging in the air.

As she cruelly exposed the intimate details of your relationship, tears streamed down your face, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. The room seemed to close in, an overwhelming wave of emotions crashing over you. Anxiety took hold, its silent fingers wrapping around your heart, squeezing with an invisible force.

Your breaths became shallow and rapid, as if the air itself was too heavy to inhale. A lump formed in your throat, choking back words that yearned to be spoken. The world around you blurred, a disorienting haze settling over your vision. Your hands trembled involuntarily, the once steady limbs now betraying your emotional turmoil.

In the depths of your anxiety, your mind became a battleground of negative thoughts. Each word uttered by her echoed, fueling self-doubt and insecurity. It felt as though the walls were closing in, the room shrinking to an oppressive confinement.

Moments later, Jeno returns, sensing the shift in your mood. The weight of sadness on your face doesn't escape his notice, concern knitting his features. He kneels in front of you, gently taking your hand in his.

"Baby?" he whispers, his eyes reflecting genuine worry. "Are you okay?"

You're taken aback by his perceptiveness, having mastered the art of hiding your true feelings. Despite your practiced smile, he sees through the facade.

"I'm fine, baby," you assure, the words a feeble attempt to shield him from your inner turmoil. A smile, though not reaching your eyes, plays on your lips. "Thank you for today." The gratitude is sincere, your heart warmed by his caring presence.

✧ ✧ ✧

As your fingers intertwine in the quiet of the car, he glances at you with a comforting smile. "Looks like there's a bit of traffic, we’ll be home in around a half hour." he mentions, the hum of the engine accompanying his words.

However, you're not fully tuned into the conversation. Instead, your attention is drawn to the night sky, captivated by the celestial wonders above. Animatedly, you share stories of constellations and the cosmic ballet, your voice weaving tales of the stars as the car meanders through the urban night.

A warm smile graces his lips, capturing the sparkle in your eyes. Spontaneously, he parks the car near a vacant mountaintop, city lights far below. The celestial canvas unfolds as you continue your stargazing dialogue. 

Nestled in the open boot of Jeno's car, you find comfort against his body, head resting on his chest. Gazing at the stars, he whispers sweet reassurances in your ear, the night sky a celestial canvas where your anxiety gently fades, even if just momentarily.

Jeno kisses your forehead with a whispered question. You’re now standing side by side as you’re looking up at the stars and he’s looking at you. “Are you feeling better?” 

As a contented sigh escapes your lips, you revel in the solace of being with him, the night sky weaving a temporary spell on your anxiety but you know this won’t last, you know the second you close your eyes tonight the real battle will start. 

Choosing to shield him from worry, you offer a gentle smile and a subtle nod when he asks. "Yeah, I'm feeling better now.” you assure him, your words carrying a touch of gratitude. Your heart swells with appreciation for the unexpected haven he created atop the mountain.

Leaning into the warmth of his chest, you express your thanks for the day, the words a tender acknowledgment of his efforts. Deep down, you cherish the genuine concern in his eyes, but for now, the desire to spare him unnecessary worry guides your actions. 

“I don’t buy it.” he looks at you sternly, lips dodging yours, a serious expression in his face.��

"Jeno, please," you implore, the words hanging in the air. However, as he meets your gaze, captivated by the sheer beauty reflected in your eyes, he momentarily forgets what he was about to say. The softness in your expression, the way you look at him, sweeps away his train of thought. There's a pause, a moment where words fade into the background, as he's lost in the warmth of your gaze and the radiance that surrounds you. Eventually, a gentle smile curves on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the distraction your beauty has become. 

His words caress the air, "Pretty girl." His voice is a low whisper, his fingers tenderly tracing the contours of your lips with the most captivating of smiles. It sends a poignant ache through your heart, the way he looks at you making you feel intense guilt. You fight back the tears that threaten to surface.

He’s still looking at you with concern, eyes searching yours for an answer. You don’t know how else to react. Desiring distraction, you impulsively lean in, seeking solace in the press of your lips against his, momentarily abandoning the conversation you had intended. Your fingers instinctively coil around the fabric of his shirt, his arms winding around your waist, drawing you into an intimate embrace. The dance of his mouth against yours unfolds, a gentle nip on your lower lip elicits a hushed gasp. Seizing the moment, he delves deeper, intertwining his tongue with yours in a tender kiss.

A smile graces his lips in the midst of your shared closeness and it seems like the imposing conversation has flown from his mind too.  Your fingers weave through the strands of his hair, cherishing the softness as the warmth of his body provides a transient sanctuary from lingering concerns.

Jeno gracefully lowers himself, knees bending as his hands anchor at the back of your thighs. A swift jump and your legs encircle his waist, his firm grip ensuring your support. Lips reconnect, and he navigates effortlessly to his car. He’s glad that you guys have no company.

Amidst the soft glow of candlelight, an unexpected intimacy unfolds. You discover a new vantage point, perched on a shared blanket under the moonlit sky. You’re met with the familiarity of his car, the boot. You’re surprised when the position remains, you on top. You move even closer in his hold, a comfortable perch on his lap as your knees close in on either side of his hips. “Take this shit off.” He moans against your lips, smiling against your lips as you get in an awkward position so he can remove your skirt swiftly. Simultaneously, you unzip his trousers, freeing his cock from his pants, while he removes your lace panties. 

His hands trace the curves of your thighs, fingers gripping the exposed skin, dangerously dancing near the skin of your pussy while your mouth melds with his. 

“Already wet for me? Good girl.” He coos in your ear, one finger dipping in and out your pussy, covered in slick. 

“Need you.” You cry out, he coos at how patience you’ve been for him as he grips your thighs, eyes looking softly into yours as he lowers you down onto his cock, the two of you moaning at the sensation of you adjusting immediately, he fits snugly into you, your walls instinctively accustomed to the feeling. 

In the midst of tears, you whisper, "Jeno, you make me feel so much." Your emotions overwhelm you as you begin kissing every inch of his face, attempting to convey the depth of your sentiments.

You start with his forehead, the site of countless moments etched with shared laughter and joy. A gentle kiss lands there, a silent acknowledgment of the happiness he's brought into your life. Moving to his eyebrows, you trace the familiar arcs that crinkle with every teasing smile. Your lips linger, savoring the warmth of memories held in those expressive lines.

Kissing the bridge of his nose, you recall the adorable way it scrunches when he's deep in thought or playfully annoyed. Each touch becomes a silent tribute to the idiosyncrasies that make Jeno uniquely himself. Continuing to his closed eyelids, you remember the countless times you’ve dreamed of him and the security you find in the serenity of those closed eyes.

As you plant a tender kiss on his cheeks, the echoes of laughter and stolen moments resonate in your mind. You're acutely aware of the bittersweet weight behind the gesture, acknowledging the beauty of what was and the pain of what might never be again.

Finally, your lips find their way to his trembling mouth, sealing an unspoken promise of love and gratitude. In this melancholic dance of affection, you navigate the terrain of his features, each kiss a melancholy ode to the intricate mosaic of your shared experiences.

Jeno looks at you with a mixture of tenderness and concern, his eyes mirroring the emotions reflected in your tear-stained gaze. As your whispered confession hangs in the air, his fingers gently lift to graze your cheek softly. 

The room feels heavy with unspoken sentiments, and Jeno's expression softens even more as he breaks away from your lips. His hand cradles your face, thumb gently brushing away the lingering traces of sadness. There's a depth of emotion in his eyes as he looks into yours. 

He doesn't utter a word, but his actions speak volumes. Leaning in, Jeno captures your lips in a soft, reassuring kiss. It's a gentle promise, a silent affirmation that he's there with you, navigating the intensity of emotions together. His arms wrap around you, creating a cocoon of warmth and solace.

Jeno's touch is a blend of warmth and desire as he navigates your trembling body, his hands exploring the curves that respond to his every movement. Your sighs intertwine with his name, creating a symphony of longing and pleasure, while your shaky hands find solace on his sculpted shoulders. Biting your lip, you surrender to the heightened sensations as his grip on your thigh tightens, helping as you rise and fall on his cock. 

His breath, laden with desire, mingles with yours, the air heavy with the intensity of your connection, your ass meeting your thighs. "Good girl," he murmurs, smiling behind the pleasure as you rise and fall on his cock with a determination in his eye. His praise ignites a new wave of sensations. Your eyes, lost in ecstasy, roll back, and the room echoes with the symphony of whimpers and cries that escape your lips when he consistently hits the sweet spot

“I need your cum in me.” you whine, the words catching in your throat as your body responds to the intensifying pleasure, a gentle band tightening around the depths of your core.

“I’m gonna fill you up with me, baby.” he moans, his voice a low, longing murmur. Jeno lowers his thumb to your clit, gliding down to trace delicate circles. The sudden touch makes you shiver, tension building within you as the sensations cascade through your body.

In the throes of ecstasy, you arch against him, a cascade of whimpers and moans escaping your lips. Jeno is attentive to your every reaction, synchronized in the dance of shared desire. Your cries become a symphony that resonates with him, each pulse of pleasure bringing you closer to a shared climax.

“My love.” you cry out, the endearment slipping out involuntarily, and it resonates deeply with Jeno. The intimate connection amplifies, pushing him over the edge. He responds with a fervent moan, releasing his pent-up passion inside you, a high-pitched resonance you’ve never heard before.

As the climax ebbs, you collapse onto him, exhaustion mingling with the lingering pleasure. Tears stream down your face, a release of emotions intertwined with the raw intensity of the moment. Your hands clench onto his back, holding on as if he could slip away.

In the aftermath, Jeno cradles you with a tender smile, maintaining the intimate connection. His gaze holds a vulnerability that transcends physicality, mirroring the delicate strokes of a poet. His fingers brush away your tears, tracing the paths of emotions etched on your flushed face.

With unspoken understanding, the room is filled with shared sorrow. Jeno’s tears join yours, creating a poignant language that weaves your stories together. In this silent dialogue of vulnerability, your connection strengthens.

In the tender aftermath, Jeno's eyes reveal a different vulnerability. With a gentleness that mirrors the delicate touch of a poet, he brushes away the tears that linger on your flushed cheeks. His fingers trace the paths of emotions etched on your face. As his thumb captures a glistening tear, you feel your sorrow enveloping the room. 

Gazing into each other's eyes, you find solace in the authenticity of the moment. Jeno's gaze mirrors and you stay in silence, he’s still inside of you. 

Breaking the silence, Jeno's voice, soft yet filled with genuine concern, pierces through the intimate atmosphere. His eyes still search yours as he whispers, "Tell me what you feel." The unspoken question lingers, he’s referencing earlier, inviting you to unravel the layers of emotions that intertwine your souls, creating a canvas painted with shared vulnerability and desire.

Jeno's touch is tender as he brushes away your tears, his fingers delicately tracing the paths of emotions etched on your face. The subtle quiver in his breath reveals the depth of his empathy, and you notice a glistening tear escaping from the corner of his eye, mirroring the vulnerability that binds you both.

His thumb moves gently across your cheek, capturing the teardrop, while his own tears fall freely. There's a shared sorrow in this moment, an unspoken understanding that transcends words. Jeno's emotions, laid bare, create a poignant connection between you, deepening the bonds that bind your hearts.

The weight of unspoken pain becomes palpable, threatening to engulf you in a sea of vulnerability. In response, you shake your head, a feeble attempt to ward off the imminent exposure of your innermost self. The fear of appearing fragile and broken takes hold—it's a dangerous territory you've meticulously avoided, a realm where the façade you've worn like armor is at risk of crumbling.

As he wipes away your tears, his gaze meets yours, expressing a silent solidarity. In that intimate exchange, you find solace in the raw authenticity of shared emotions. Jeno's teary eyes reflect not only your pain but also the profound connection that weaves your stories together. It's a moment suspended in time, where tears become the language of emotions too profound for words.

"I know what you feel; I feel it too," he whispers, his voice a soothing balm to the ache in your heart. The connection deepens as you both acknowledge the profound emotions that bind you, creating a shared sanctuary where vulnerability is met with empathy. It's a testament to the strength of your relationship, forged in the crucible of genuine emotions that only serve to strengthen the bond you share.

A quiet gasp escapes as emotions swirl within, you take a deep breath, the weight of your emotions nearly overwhelming. In the quiet intimacy of the moment, you muster the courage to speak the words that have been echoing in your heart.

"I... I'm scared, Jeno," you stammer, anxiety coursing through your veins like an electric current. Your heart races, and a subtle tremor invades your voice as you grapple with the overwhelming fear of confessing your emotions. The vulnerability in your words echoes the symptoms of anxiety—palpitations, a tightening chest, the fear of judgment that clings to every syllable.

Despite the paralyzing fear, you know you must tell him. You summon the courage to speak. "I love you so much that it hurts, Jeno," you admit, the words escaping in a breathless whisper. The admission carries the weight of both joy and fear, but amidst the internal turmoil, you yearn for a connection that transcends words, searching desperately for affirmation in his eyes. His boyish smile transforms into a warm and tender expression, tears streaming down. He's still inside of you, his presence lingering, and as he releases again, his hands gently cup your face, providing a moment of solace in the midst of the emotional storm.

"I love you too," Jeno whispers, his voice carrying a depth of emotion that mirrors your own. You hold each other tightly, your bare bodies pressed together, a mosaic of emotions etched across the canvas of your entwined forms. His toned chest provides a firm foundation, your breasts gently molded against the warmth of his skin. The lingering connection down there serves as a silent testament to the profound intimacy you've embraced.

Heavy breathing and panting compose a symphony, resonating with the echoes of shared desires. His arms, strong and secure, wrap around your back, creating a cocoon of intimacy. Fingers trace soothing patterns along the contours of your spine, and as you hold onto his shoulders, your tears find refuge in the curve of his neck. 

In the midst of this physical closeness, you look into each other's eyes. His smile, though filled with tears, radiates warmth and acceptance, a poignant expression of love. Yet, in your gaze, there is no hint of happiness—only a profound sadness reflected in your tear-streaked face as you sob, the weight of vulnerability heavy on your shoulders. 

The head fogs with unspoken words, each heartbeat echoing the ache of a love destined to unravel. Tears cascade down your cheeks, silent witnesses to the profound pain etched in your soul. Amidst the shared tears, he cries too, not realizing the true depth of your sorrow. He’s weeping because he senses your love, yet the cruel irony is that you, burdened by the impending departure, are the one who must leave.

As your tears mingle in the dance of heartbreak, the weight of impending separation hangs heavy. He can’t hear the words echoing in your head, nor understand the agony etched onto your face. This poignant moment, laden with unspoken goodbyes, is a symphony of sorrow. 

✧ ✧ ✧

It starts off with feeble excuses, claiming sickness or the need to study. Each call and text from him goes unanswered, as you detach yourself without warning or explanation. On campus, you avoid his gaze, finding excuses to leave, trapping yourself in a web of avoidance.

Friends, unaware of the storm within, continue their routines, oblivious to your isolation. You become a ghost, fading from gatherings, leaving them in the dark about the torment devouring your soul.

His house, once a refuge, stands untouched by your presence. Dates become relics of the past, and everything shared dissolves into a haunting silence. You ghost him, ignore him, disappearing without a trace. The places where you once showed up now remain empty, a stark reminder of the void you've become.

In this self-imposed exile, you grapple with the agony of your emotions, feeling the weight of isolation press down on you. The world around you moves forward, while you remain suspended in emotional paralysis, unable to break free from the chains that bind you.

The sun-drenched campus feels both familiar and distant as you navigate its pathways, ensnared in your isolation. Suddenly, Sunwoo appears, concern etched across his face. Startled, you jump at his presence, forgetting how to act around people. Anxiety, that insidious disease, tightens its grip.

"Y/N," Sunwoo calls out, his voice breaking through the suffocating silence.

"Sunwoo," you cry out, seeking instant comfort from him. You allow yourself to melt into his warm embrace, tears escaping as thoughts of Jeno intensify the ache in your chest. You miss him—miss his touch, miss the simplicity of your connection.

"Tell me everything," Sunwoo urges, his voice a gentle plea.

And you do. You spill the fragments of your shattered heart, revealing how you and Jeno were once strong until the world intruded, shattering the delicate bubble of your love. The honeymoon phase faded, replaced by imperfections and external pressures. You couldn't bear the stares, the rudeness, the guilt for simply being in love. It felt like you were an enemy, an intruder in a world that refused to accept your connection.

You recount Seoyeon's cruel warning, the video, her words a venomous echo in your mind. The weight of her threat compounds your already fragile emotional state. Sunwoo listens, his comforting presence a temporary respite from the storm within. Before he hugs you, you just stare at him and sob. His gaze doesn't hold judgment, and the rarity of that these days breaks you. It's a poignant moment where you realize he doesn't see you as someone who's done something wrong.

As you cry in his arms, the release of emotions is accompanied by a profound sense of trust. You never did anything wrong, and Sunwoo, understanding that, becomes a pillar of support. The rarity of finding someone who doesn't look at you with condemnation in these trying times makes you melt into him. You know you can trust him—always have and always will.

Sunwoo rocks you back and forth in his arms, offering a comforting refuge from the storm within. As tears stream down your face, he speaks softly, his words carrying a pain that resonates deeply.

"You love him?" he questions, the ache in his voice weaving a tale of pain that doesn't entirely make sense to you.

You nod, biting your tongue to stifle the sobs threatening to escape. "I'm scared," you admit, the vulnerability laid bare.

He shakes his head gently, a determined glint in his eyes. "You love him. Fuck everyone else." The weight of his words settles in, a declaration that in this tumultuous journey, your love is what matters. In his embrace, the fear eases, replaced by a flicker of courage to face the uncertain path ahead.

✧ ✧ ✧

As you sit peacefully on the campus, absorbed in your thoughts, Chaeyoung, Nagyung, and Seoyeon approach with an air of hostility. Their presence feels like a dark cloud disrupting the tranquility around you. Nagyung shoots you a venomous glare, and the atmosphere becomes tense. Suddenly, you're transported back to a painful memory – your date with Jeno, tainted by Nagyung's threats and bullying.

Nagyung's voice pierces through the present moment, her words echoing the past torment. "Jeno is still posting photos of you two on his Instagram. Did you not take my warning seriously?" The mention of Jeno's name sends shivers down your spine, reopening old wounds. Despite the tears welling in your eyes, you choose to ignore them, desperate to shield yourself from the emotional assault. The intrusive trio persists, invading your personal space and freedom of mind.

As you endure their taunts, tears well in your eyes, a silent defense against the emotional onslaught. Avoiding their gaze, you refuse to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.

Despite your efforts to stay composed, Nagyung persists with another warning, this time invoking a sense of dread. She mentions the video with a snarl on her face. The mere thought intensifies your desperation to escape this distressing encounter, as their toxic words become increasingly unbearable. The urgency to distance yourself grows, making finding an exit your sole focus.

Their taunting has drawn a growing crowd, creating an overwhelming sensory experience. The stares and harsh words blend into a chaotic scene. Desperate to escape, you find your voice locked within, and your body feels paralyzed, as if controlled by an unseen force. In this moment, anger surges. You want to fight back, to regain control over your voice and movements, but an invisible restraint keeps you confined,

Sunwoo arrives, exuding a striking handsomeness that momentarily captures attention. His face bears a concerned expression as he looks at you, offering reassurance with a simple, "It's okay, I'm here." While he defends you against the trio, the ringing in your head and heightened anxiety make it difficult to decipher his words.

Certain phrases cut through the mental fog: "What's wrong with you?" and "You're all pathetic." He delivers a menacing warning, promising consequences, each word dripping with venom that silences the three girls who look stunned. Sunwoo, typically composed, adopts an unfamiliar rudeness, threatening the trio with a stern expression you've never witnessed before. The stark contrast leaves you both surprised and comforted, a mixture of emotions swirling as Sunwoo wipes away your tears.

Sunwoo's defense sparks a glimmer of hope within you, and your eyes light up with gratitude. As he smiles in reassurance, you make an effort to reciprocate, forcing a smile back, though feelings of unworthiness linger beneath the surface.

Witnessing him defend you creates a moment of vulnerability, you find yourself getting lost in his presence. Sunwoo gently wipes away your tears. Soft whispers escape his lips, words so sweet they make you giggle. Were you getting lost in his eyes?

His question breaks your trance "Where's your boyfriend?"

"I don't know, Sunwoo," you reply, your mind swirling with the reminder that you've ignored all of his texts.

"He should be here," Sunwoo asserts, concern etched on his face.

"It's not his fault," you instinctively defend him, your words flying past Sunwoo as he changes the subject.

"Do you want to come with me?" His hand gently rests on your back, a comforting touch that lights up a spark within you.

"Where?" you inquire, curiosity blending with uncertainty.

"Somewhere away from here," Sunwoo suggests, the idea hanging in the air.

"I don't—" you begin, caught in contemplation. The uncertainty about the proposal lingers, leaving you unsure if it's a good idea.

Finally, Jeno enters the scene, and an immediate tension envelopes the surroundings. Immature behaviour unfolds between him and Sunwoo, their gazes locking with an intensity laced with rudeness. The air thickens with arguments, and the perpetual tension that seems to shadow you becomes overwhelmingly stifling.

As you prepare to confront both of them, Jeno beats you to it. His eyes communicate a stern warning to Sunwoo, their locked gaze speaking volumes. In Jeno's intense stare, you sense an undercurrent of jealousy. He doesn't need words; the warning is implicit, especially as his eyes fixate on where Sunwoo's hand lingers on your back.

Sunwoo doesn't back away, he’s aching every second that you’re in this broken state. His frustration boils over. "Where the hell have you been?" His raised voice is directed at Jeno, who responds defiantly, "Shut up, Sunwoo, I swear to—"

"You're twiddling your thumbs while Seoyeon —" Sunwoo's words are cut off as he glances at you, his eyes softening instantly as he reads the silent plea in yours. Shaking your head, you silently beg him not to reveal the truth to Jeno.

"Sunwoo, stop it. Don't talk to Jeno like that," you interject, trying to diffuse the escalating tension. Sunwoo sighs, a heavy sadness lingering in his heart, all he wants to do is protect you but he also wants to respect your wishes.

Finally turning to Jeno, you realise you can't avoid him forever. You're a bit of a mess, dishevelled hair and tear-streaked cheeks. Jeno notices immediately and his eyes soften, his heart strings tugging and without a word, he pulls you into a comforting hug. You melt into his chest, shaking hands gripping onto his biceps. You hum in familiarity as he wraps his arms around you tighter. “I’m right here, baby.”

His fingers gently smooth out your hair, and he delicately kisses your face, his fingers following to wipe away your tears. You look up at him as if he holds your world. He has an undeniable hold on your heart. "Come with me," he suggests, and though you're initially reluctant, he pleads, "Please, Y/N."

"Don't you trust me?" Jeno asks, his eyes holding a sincerity that softens your defences. "I do," you respond, shedding silent tears as you hold his hand, letting him lead you away from the prying eyes.

Before parting, he kisses you softly, and in that vulnerable moment, everyone's eyes seem to be on you.

You catch sight of Seoyeon and Sunwoo, your breathing calming as you catch him defending your name. You watch as he snatches her phone from her with a relentless and anger that’s unpalatable, he must look crazy to others but you know what he’s doing. You feel a warmth in your senses, the cloud in your mind finally starting to dissolve when you see him navigate her phone. He’s deleted the video.

Jeno wraps his arm around you, a protective shield from the cruel stares and whispers. As he kisses your cheek softly, you find solace in the intimacy of the moment.

✧ ✧ ✧

In the familiar setting of Jeno's room, clad in his clothes post a shared shower, emotions swirl between you two. The act of cleaning each other felt tender, the guilt growing as his lips pressed against every inch of your body, each kiss carrying an unspoken declaration of the depth of his love for you. Jeno leans down, the rawness in his voice echoes, "I've missed you so much." The question hangs, "Have you missed me?"

Instead of verbalising, you lean forward, putting your mind off the pain by doing what you know best. Your lips press against his, a rough and passionate collision. There's an urgency as your lips connect, a mingling of longing and desire. The kiss deepens, and you bite down roughly on his bottom lip. As the kiss progresses, heavy breaths mix. The roughness of the kiss mirrors the intensity of your feelings, making every moment linger in the air.

Pulling away, Jeno gazes into your eyes, understanding etched in his expression. "You can always talk to me. I'm always waiting for you," he reassures.

Jeno silently leads you somewhere, and as you realize it's the room where the project is, you express, "Jen, I don't feel like working on the project now."

He gently hushes you and urges, "Just follow me."

In a secluded corner of the project space, Jeno guides you into an unexpected, confined pod. The air is charged with tension as he gently guides you to sit down, taking your hand in his. As he kneels before you, you glance around in confusion—this isn't the collaborative space you had developed; it's *your* pod.

"Jeno, what's going on? This is supposed to be our demonstration pod for the presentation." you exclaim, your worry evident.

Jeno, undeterred, whispers, "I don't care about the presentation right now." Holding your hand tighter, he reveals a pod personalised just for you—your favourite scent of vanilla, your favourite song filling the air with soothing melody, and a colour palette of soft lavender, muted gold, and touches of black. Images of blooming cherry blossoms and gentle ripples on a serene pond adorn the walls, creating a tranquil and visually pleasing environment.

Overwhelmed, you can't fathom how Jeno knows all these intimate details you've never shared. Tears well up in your eyes, and you ask, "How did you...?"

"I know you better than you think." Jeno says softly, wiping away your tears. "Let's do some mindfulness exercises together. It might help."

As Jeno leads you through deep breaths and visualisation, your internal struggle intensifies. The stress of using this personal creation for an impromptu session gnaws at you, overshadowing the intended therapeutic effect.

"We're going to get in trouble, Jeno." you stammer between breaths, your anxiety rising.

"I don't care about that right now. I care about you." Jeno replies, his voice steady but filled with concern.

However, you are too far gone. Jeno's efforts, genuine as they are, can't penetrate the walls of your distress. Realisation dawns on Jeno's face—he can't help someone who isn't ready to be helped. Holding your face in his hands, a tear escapes his eye.

"I love you. I want to help you." Jeno pleads. "My heart is breaking seeing you like this. Why won't you let me in?"

Sobbing, you abruptly stand up and leave the pod, leaving Jeno behind with a shattered expression. "I told you I loved you." he whispers, watching you disappear, unable to comprehend why you chose to leave despite his sincere efforts to connect. As you go, he notices the absence of those three words from you, and tears fill his eyes too, realizing the depth of your pain and the strain on your connection.

✧ ✧ ✧

The pulsating beats of the music echoed through the crowded room, a symphony of laughter and clinking glasses resonating in the air. Neon lights cast vibrant hues on the partygoers, transforming the space into a kaleidoscope of fleeting moments. Yet, in the midst of the lively chaos, your focus was on one person – Jeno.

The room felt suffocating as you navigated through the sea of bodies, your heart pounding in rhythm with the bass. This wasn't where you wanted to be; Jeno's infamous parties were the last place you'd willingly venture. Once, he had tamed his party spirit for you, a sacrifice to build a life together. Now, with the remnants of that love scattered like confetti, Jeno had reverted to his former self, perhaps even more recklessly.

He stood there, a red cup in hand, surrounded by the aura of popularity you once found intimidating. Memories of a time when he threw fewer parties for the sake of your connection flooded your mind. But now, any second threatened to pull him into the abyss of his "fuck boy" phase.

Summoning courage, you took a deep breath and approached him. His name left your lips, but he brushed you aside as though you were an apparition, the weight of his indifference making you feel transparent, like a forgotten ghost.

Attempting conversation only led to walls; he was rough, rude, a cruel reminder of a love now lost. The desperation to salvage what was left of a shared project pushed you to raise your voice, cutting through the noise of the party.

"JENO!"

His eyes met yours, a deadpan stare that could still weaken your resolve. The words you uttered about the pending project fell like heavy raindrops, but his response wasn't venomous – it was filled with an unexpected hurt.

"I'd rather fail," he said, and with that, he walked away, leaving you standing alone amidst the vibrant chaos, a solitary figure in a world that had once revolved aroundthe two of you.

As you gather your resolve to leave, the weight of impending all-nighters and deadlines bearing down on you, Donghyuck intercepts your escape with a mischievous smirk.

"Come with me," he insists, the insistence in his voice leaving no room for argument. "We're playing a game, and you have to be here. I won't let you go home yet."

Reluctantly, you follow Donghyuck into an empty room where a small group has gathered around a solitary bottle of alcohol placed in the center of the floor. Jeno sits on the opposite side, his gaze fixed on you. It takes a moment for you to realize why – you're wearing the dress he once gifted you, a stunning piece that captivates attention.

The atmosphere shifts as the game of spin the bottle begins. You shoot a glare at Donghyuck; this chaotic scene isn't your element. The room becomes a haze of alcohol, drugs, and unrestrained behavior. You feel like an outsider, an observer in a world that's foreign to you.

As the bottle takes its turns, the dares escalate, each one pushing the boundaries further. Yeji and Hyunjin had to dry hump, Chaewon and Ryujin shared an intense make out session and Karina faces a challenge that adds a layer of discomfort to the room.

Your mind begins to wander, almost fortunate to have escaped the bottle's whims, until it unexpectedly lands on Jeno. He maintains the same nonchalant expression, like a detached robot, throughout the game. Witnessing him in this state burdens your heart.

Then, your name is called, and the shock reverberates through you. Eyes widen, pulse quickens – you're suddenly the focal point of the game, and a daunting dare awaits.

“I repeat once more, Lee Jeno, would you rather kiss Y/N with the happy pill or do the same with Winter?” You gulp when you see that the bottle has landed on Jeno, Donghyuck’s words kept ringing in your head, you give him a deadpan expression and all he does is smile and blow you a kiss. He’s a menace. He planned this. You shake your head in annoyance as you see him rubbing his hand at the scene he’s created, the awkward silence, the tension, the stormy expression in Jeno’s eyes.

You gulp when you realise what’s truly going on. It’s a drug. You weren’t surprised, was it Jeno’s party if drugs weren't played with recklessly? You know Jeno loves them, he’s into that stuff, he’s crazy about it so why does he look so angry? You know him, you know his eyes should be growing with light and he’d be desperate to feel the release but he’s mad. He's abrupt and harsh. “Why are you involving drugs?”

There was a silence, Donghyuck just laughs

“I don’t want to do either.”

Jeno and Hyuck converse but it becomes a distant noise to you as you’re distracted. Your blood is boiling, you’re looking at Winter, her sweet smile and shadowed eyes giving you a racing heart. You know she doesn’t mean any harm by her actions, she isn’t a bad person but at the same time, her actions have had a negative affect on you.

Winter applies lip balm, puckering with certainty that Jeno will choose her over you. The anger you feel isn’t solely directed at her, but at the haunting memories of girls who made you feel weak and vulnerable, doubting the significance of your connection with Jeno. The realization hits – you stopped seeing Jeno to avoid this attention, to do what you thought was best.

No more. You’re taking a stand. You’re not focused on anything else, there’s so much booze and people, so much alcohol, so much music but your eyes are only on one person. the man you love so much. He’s arguing with Donghyuck so he doesn’t notice you move from your place, snatch the baggie from Donghyuck’s hand and give Winter a unapologetic glare, silently warning her not to move from her seat, it might’ve been childish but to your suprise she looks startled and sits back down.

You walk over to him and he immediately goes silent, eyes on you and instantly the light is restored. You’re shy and nervous but it doesn’t matter. he’s only one one that matters. making it up to him and showing him that you’re truly sorry and do want him matters the most.

He eyes the bag in your hand and looks stunned, eyes instantly going soft as he lowers you down onto his lap, hands moving all over. They grip the flesh on your thighs, biting his lip as he admires how sexy you look in the dress. His hands are gripping your waist securely, moving his face close to yours, showing the most concern and love in your eyes, that’s when you realise that the feelings never went, he’s never stopped adoring you.

“Baby.” he calls out your name softly, eyes looking over you in concern, you relish in his protective and caring touch that caresses your skin, you missed him so much

“Jeno.” you call out to him, holding onto his face so delicately, the two of you softly looking into each others eyes with giddy smiles, he nudges his nose against yours, calling you his pretty girl. Your spirits were too infectious to break. You truly ignored everyone else around you, especially Donghyuck, his background remarks kept ringing around, he was claiming that you were breaking every single rule in the game but you didn’t care

“Are you sure?” He questions with so much care as you bring the pill out of the bag, ready to put it on your tongue. he has strict eyes, you can see his protective side already. He wants your consent and he wants you to be 100% sure.

You know how much he loves stuff like this, you’ve always wished you was more outgoing for him. You don’t answer verbally.

You pull out pill from the bag, eyeing it like it was foreign, it was to you. You’ve seen Jeno do this so many times, you can do it. You handle it with care, making sure you don’t drop it as you place it on your tongue, eyes not leaving his as you do so, you see his breathing becoming heavy, a smirk that you love so much playing on his face. He’s in his heaven. He’s wanted this for so long. His two favourite things in the world. That combined with the fact he hasn’t touched you in so long, he’s already cumming in his pants.

You moan before you close your lips in on him, lips moving in a passionate yet slow manner, you haven’t done this in so long yet you instantly feel like home. You melt into his touch, fingers gripping onto him tightly as if he could slip away but you know he won’t ever again, it’s real, he’s yours.

He laughs against your lips when he realised you’ve become too indulged in the moment to forget that there was a pill resting on your tongue. He prods his own tongue against yours, the pill falling into his mouth effortlessly. Your tongues engage in a dance, conveying a depth of emotion that transcends words.

The warmth of your shared desire pulses through every lingering moment, igniting a fervent connection that speaks of longing, intensity, and the unspoken promises of passion.

The moment is heightened by a hundred, the kiss moves at a more rapid and intense rate, his hot breath moving against yours, you get lost in each other's embrace. Your kiss is making up for stolen time but you relish into him with a giddy smile when you realise that he’s yours and has always been. You won’t waste any time anymore,

You press against each together fervently, seeking solace and connection in the desperation of the moment. It's a collision of raw emotion, where the taste of longing lingers, and each kiss becomes a desperate plea for reassurance and a temporary escape from the overwhelming tide of uncertainty.

It’s frustrating that you had to do this with your clothes on, it’s clear that you both wanted to strip each other by the way your skirt had trailed so high up your thighs and how you’ve managed to unbutton half of his shirt. You’re gripping onto him for dear life as he starts thrusting against you, his hand pressed against your clothed clit, making rough motions as you grow more wet and frustrated as your lace thong sticks to you, you so desperately want him to strip you naked. His hardness prods against your pelvis, his tip meeting your folds every time he meets your hips.

You begin moaning his name against his lips, heavy pants and breaths against each other's mouth. In all honesty, you’ve both forgotten that there’s a crowd around you, your eyelids doubling explains why you’ve travelled to your own world with him. You’re so enchanted, desperate and horny for each other you genuinely forget you’re in the same room as people, so does he, his fingers are about to slide underneath your skirt and underwear to take it off in one rough motion, other hand reaching for a condom but you shake your head, telling him to cum in you because you’re still on the pill.

It’s so steamy. The 7 seconds has clearly exceeded a long time ago.

“Get a room! Can you guys take it somewhere else?” You’re finally brought back to reality, partially. You can only hear Donghyuck because he’s shouting close to your ear, tapping the both of you. You feel dizzy, you feel like you’re floating, you feel so good.

You ignore everyone, it’s just you and him. You continue to disregard everyone else as you finally hear all the background noise, the shouts and cheers, the whistling, the peering eyes. You don’t notice guys getting their phones out to film and take photos of you, you don’t notice Sunwoo knocking each phone from each shameless guys hands, deleting every photo and video and warning them with threats.

You’re out of your mind but you can recollect Jeno finally lifting the two of you up, he carries you to someplace more private, your legs around his waist as you continue to dry hump. You’re a mess, you keep moaning his name against his lips. “I know, I know, my love.” He whispers against your lips.

You feel a delicious thrill through your pussy, your heart beating erratically. The words ‘I love you’ are nearly slipping off your tongue.

“You’re my good girl, be patient and I’m gonna give you everything you want.” He promises, lust in his eyes. He magically manouvers through the crowds, dodging every single drunk, dancing person or couple all while making out with you passionately, his attention was 100% solely on you.

You let out a noise of excitement when you’re pressed against a wall roughly, Jeno follows shortly, his back pressing into yours. You travelled blind, you didn’t see a thing, you just maintained full trust in him. You can feel the change in atmosphere, it’s much quieter here, it’s just you and him.

He starts pressing kisses against the curve of your neck, languid and sensual, a heated whisper of desire lingered in the air. He caressed you with purpose, leaving his trail of heightened sensations behind with love marks and bites. You missed the feeling of him leaving hickeys so much. In that heated moment, your connection intensified, a symphony of shared longing and a promise of deeper, more intimate embraces to come.

He whispers against your skin, his touch although rough, lingered so softly on your skin. “I’ve missed you so much, baby.” He leans close to you, turning your tace to the side, his touch so caressing. “I’ve missed you so fucking much.” He says between kisses.

“Why did you ghost me like that? Hm?” He asks, fingertips gripping into your hips as he demands an explanation.

“I – I thought I was doing what was best.” You give a simple explanation, you was contemplating to fully explain what had happened, the conversation you had with Nagyung, the entire ordeal but now you’re standing here with the man you want to be with forever, so you realise that it doesn’t matter anymore. Maybe one day you’ll tell him everything but you don’t see yourself doing that anytime soon. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Jeno. What matters is that I’m here with you and I’ll never do that to you again.”

“I’m so sorry, I truly am. It wasn’t right for me to ghost you like that with no explanation, I’m so sorry if I made you feel like you did something wrong. The truth is you didn’t, you were so good to me. You made me feel a way that no one has ever before, I never imagined that someone would make me feel so cherished and appreciated, you came from nowhere and rocked my whole world.”

He smiles against your lips, it’s clear your apology is sincere and it touches his heart. “It’s okay, I forgive you and now I want to punish you.” His voice goes darker and you know it’s the sex in him talking, it turns you on so much.

“Then ruin me.”

“But I wanna make so much love to you.” He groans, an internal conflict playing in his heart. “You’ve gone so long without my touch, are you sure you want me to go hard on you?”

You manage to lock the door behind you, filled

with determination. That tells him enough. He’s confused when you get down from his hold, nearly stumbling once you’re on the ground as dizziness overcomes you but you force yourself to have a strong stance. You try to appear more confident than you are, your eyes heavy with the desire to make him feel good.

Your eyes don’t leave his when you get down on your knees in front of him, looking up at him with doe yet seductive eyes. He groans, getting himself ready with a huff, unbuckling his belt, cooing down at you when you struggled to do it, he cups your cheeks. “My pretty girl, you wanna make me feel good? You wanna make it up to me? You’re gonna take my cock in that pretty little mouth of yours?”

You nod, suddenly becoming shy at how direct he is. He tuts, shaking his head, fingers gripping the skin beneath your skin roughly, looking down at you and shaking his head. He wants you to beg for him. Your pussy grows wet at his change in attitude.

“How badly do you need my cock?”

“I need it so badly. I’ve been thinking about your cock every single day, I’ll do anything to feel and taste it.” You start begging and pleading, holding his hands softly and kissing the flesh as you know that you’re his soft spot.

But it makes no difference, he won’t give you what you need unless you beg for him the way he wants you to. His eyes grow dark and his voice goes deeper, looking down at you seductively, fingers pressing into your mouth as he gives you a taste for only second. “Say it then.” His finger prods between your top and bottom lip, eyes dark as he’s waiting for the word that he’s been so desperate to hear since rekindling with you:

“Please Daddy!!! Please fuck my throat, Daddy.” You scream at the top of your lungs.

“There’s my good girl.”

Your hands grip his clothed cock, impatiently waiting as he rids himself of his boxers. You bring your knees close together in a bid to feel something which doesn’t go unnoticed by him: “My greedy slut has no patience.”

He shakes his head.

Your anticipation builds as you grasp his thighs, eagerly opening your mouth and meeting his lustful gaze. His hand caresses your cheek before guiding his cock against your chin, his heavy length slapping against your skin. He enters your mouth, you close your eyes and moan into him instantly, savoring the sensation and losing yourself in the moment.

His deep groan resonates as you swallow, and he grips your face while withdrawing his cock slowly. Spit gathers at the edges of your lips as he thrusts back into your mouth. A whimper escapes as the head of his arousal reaches the back of your throat, causing your eyes to water.

"Fuck," he hisses, picking up the pace ever so slightly. Your hands ascend, clutching his belt loops, drawing him nearer until his hips meet your chin.

He lingers momentarily before withdrawing, granting you a brief respite before pulling him back in. He watches intently as each thrust causes your throat to bulge, his fingers pressing against your neck, relishing the sensation.

Your mind is adrift, captivated by him and the sensations he invokes. Your lips ache from the stretch, mirroring the intensity elsewhere. Unbeknownst to you, your thighs rub together, seeking relief from the building pressure within.

His hands descend, teasing with pinches and nipple flicks, eliciting involuntary jerks. His cock, unwavering, continues its rhythmic exploration of your mouth. Gripping your thighs, he forcefully spreads your legs, prompting a cough as he grunts at the tightness, his fingers tantalizingly close to your core. You hold onto his belt loops, immersed in the moment.

"So wet just for me, all for Daddy," he murmurs, his fingers exploring the depths between your thighs, causing your toes to curl. "I wish I could eat you out at the same time, baby," he groans. A whimper escapes as he inserts two fingers, your legs spreading wide in tandem with the rhythmic dance of his mouth and fingers, propelling you toward the precipice.

"So perfect for me. Down on your knees just for me, my cock in my princesses pretty little mouth." he declares, plunging his cock down your throat. Tears and saliva cascade into your hair as you whimper. He looks down at you with a mixture of adoration and sadism in his eyes. You can tell he’s still having a conflict, he wants to make love to you and make you feel like you’re in infinity but he also wants to ruin you.

Your chest heaves as he accelerates his fingers, his other hand anchoring you with pressure against your lower stomach. "Can you hear how wet you are for me?" he taunts, the audible squelch accompanying each swift movement. As the intensity heightens, a new dimension of pleasure unfolds, leaving you teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

Your eyes begin watering as his thrusts become more languid, his eyes widening in size as he moans your name, sounds of pleasure leaving his mouth as his grip tightens on the makeshift ponytail he’s bunched your hair into, roughly yanking it to bring you even closer. “My pretty baby.” He admires you as you continue to open wide for him, drool and spit staining your cheeks

“Swallow.” He manages to demand in his hazy state, his voice a complete contrast to his gentle tone a few seconds ago. His cum drips out, so much of it.

You oblige like the good girl that you are, making Jeno’s heart race as he caresses your embrace, cooing at how good you’ve been for him. The liquid burns down your throat as you slurp every last drop, it drops all over your face. Jeno bites his lip and moans at the sight. Your panting against his cock as you savour every last taste, his cum that leaves a mark as it drips on your flesh.

The next thing you know is that he’s on the floor, knelt down beside you as he presses kisses all over your face. He melts at how cute you look covered in his cum, your cheeks a subtle pink as your lips curve up in a giddy smile. “Am I forgiven?”

He sighs, pressing the softest of kisses all over your face. “You’ve already made it up for me, my love.” He smiles, the most precious look ever. You don’t have time to respond because he lifts you up and kisses you, slamming the back of your body against the cold tiles.

“I’m gonna fuck you against the wall.”

He acts swiftly, aching desire between you both palpable. Impatience skips over prolonged foreplay. His hands roughly envelop your boobs as he profoundly fucks into you, your walls sucking him in.

His hips maintain a rapid, fervent pace against yours, igniting a symphony of sensations. Your voice rises, a crescendo of his name escaping your lips, the echo lingering in the air, dancing with the possibility of reaching others' ears.

"Good girl," he breathes, a whisper of dominance laced with desire. "You want everyone to hear how much you love me?"

In the aftermath, a blissful numbness envelops your body—a harmonious blend of pleasure and surrender. The echoes of passion's orchestration linger, leaving you immersed in the aftermath.

He continues his rhythmic movements through his climax, your legs trembling around him, creating a delicate balance. A subtle exploration finds that sweet spot, adding a layer of intimacy to the shared experience.

Whispering softly, he notes, "You're still so tight for me," expressing a connection that transcends the physical. The declaration of a need to be close, to share in the culmination of shared desire, adds a tender note to the symphony of emotions.

""I love you," you whisper with genuine warmth, the words echoing the depth of your feelings. "I've never stopped loving you, and I never will. It's you—always has been and always will be. I want to grow old with you, experience everything with you. I love you."

"You're incredibly beautiful. You're so good to me. You're my entire world," Jeno expresses, his voice a tender melody that wraps around your heart.

"Y/N," he speaks softly after a moment of quiet, his voice carrying a vulnerable tone that unveils layers of emotion. His eyes search yours, seeking reassurance and a promise of permanence.

"You won't leave me again?" he questions, the weight of his vulnerability evident in every word.

"Never," you reassure, your fingers tenderly running through his hair. "I will love you until I stop breathing."

A gentle smile graces his lips, and he closes his eyes, immersing himself in the rhythmic beat of your heart against his chest. His fingers weave through your hair, creating a comforting melody, and his breath becomes a soothing lullaby that caresses the intimate space between you two.

In a moment that lingers with sincerity and depth, he opens his eyes, gazing into your soul. "I love your more," he confesses, the words carrying the weight of every emotion he's ever felt. His declaration is not just a statement; it's a promise, a pledge to navigate the journey of love with you, embracing the beauty of every shared heartbeat and whispered melody.

✧ ✧ ✧

✧ ✧ ✧

Beneath the celestial canvas of a perfect graduation day, the atmosphere buzzes with an electric mix of excitement and nerves. As you stand on the stage, a serene breeze gently rustles the diplomas in your hands, symbolising the journey of growth and resilience. Above, clouds drift in the blue sky like transient dreams.

You’re surrounded by the sea of your peers, each face reflects the shared triumphs and challenges of the academic voyage. The air is thick with your nerves but your newfound ability to navigate anxiety renders the experience more bearable. You’re doing better, emotionally and physically.

So many eyes are looking up your way but your attention is drawn, unwaveringly, to one face — your handsome boyfriend. Dressed in a graduation suit that complements the solemnity of the occasion, his recently dyed blonde hair adds a touch of vibrancy to the scene. He looks hot.

His gaze meets yours, and as if orchestrated by destiny, the world around you blurs, leaving only the two of you in sharp focus. The warmth of his mesmerising smile works like a balm, dissolving the remnants of nervousness that linger. In this shared moment, he blows a gentle kiss, a silent reassurance that transcends words.

He motions to his phone and you smile his way, breaking eye contact to take your own phone from your front pocket, his text messages leaving a mark on your heart.

As Professor Suh announces the imminent commencement of the valedictorian speech, you swiftly tuck your phone away. You draw in a deep breath. A fleeting but meaningful smile passes between you and Jeno, His eyes, a comforting anchor, capture your attention one last time.

You observe him lean back, sigh, and brace himself, a knowing expression gracing his face, he knows that you haven’t listened to him. A subtle smirk plays on your lips as you witness his friends, quick to tease him. With the echo of your smile lingering in the air, you step forward, propelled by a newfound confidence, falling into the depth of Jeno's eyes one last time before embracing the responsibility of delivering the valedictorian speech.

“Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed faculty, honored guests, and my extraordinary fellow graduates,

As we stand on the cusp of a momentous occasion, I want to extend my heartfelt congratulations to each and every one of you. Graduating and completing your honors is no small feat, and you should all be immensely proud of your hard work and dedication.

As I reflect on the journey that brought us to this significant moment, I want to share a story that began on my very first day at this university—a story that unfolded into a groundbreaking initiative. A project, focusing on Virtual Reality Therapy, emerged as a transformative endeavor, leveraging VR technology to construct therapeutic environments for those navigating stress, anxiety, or specific psychological conditions. The aim was audacious yet profound: to pioneer an approach that delves into the intricate realms of emotional, social, and cultural interactions within these virtual therapeutic spaces.

I must admit, the inception of this project was nerve-wracking. The unexpected assignment, the weight of its aspirations—I never envisioned being chosen for such an innovative venture. Yet, in the midst of uncertainty, I found myself humbled and honored to be part of this ambitious pursuit.

This project was not a solo endeavor; it was a collaborative journey, and I had the privilege of working alongside someone exceptional. Jeno, my partner in this endeavor, brought his engineering expertise to the table, playing a vital role in translating our vision into reality. Together, we navigated the challenges and triumphs of this innovative initiative.

As the project unfolded, it garnered recognition beyond our university's borders. It's not my intention to bore you with the details, for the university has rightfully celebrated its achievements. This initiative has earned global accolades, winning numerous awards and gaining recognition worldwide—an accomplishment that resonates not just within these academic halls but across the international stage.

Yet, if I may be candid, my personal connection with the project has evolved. While its success is undeniable, and its impact has reached far and wide, my focus has shifted beyond the accolades. It's a testament to the journey we've shared and the growth we've experienced together. Jeno and I, alongside all of you, have played our part in this remarkable chapter of our academic lives.

Now, as I shift the focus of our journey to a more personal realm, let me unveil why this project has become the most profound and romantic chapter of my academic venture. It’s a tale of love, of unexpected connections, and how, amidst the pixels and algorithms, I discovered something far more intricate—the story of how I met my boyfriend, Jeno.

Picture this: as we navigated the intricacies of the project, Jeno, my partner in this venture, revealed a side of himself that extended beyond the confines of his engineering expertise. He was, in essence, the orchestrator of a symphony of intelligence and charm, yet too nervous to stand before you today. His modesty led him to suggest that I take full credit for our shared efforts.

I couldn’t, in all honesty, adhere to his suggestion. You see, I find an unparalleled joy in showcasing him, in proudly proclaiming that he is not only the love of my life but also a brilliant mind beneath the carefully curated image he upholds. Jeno, despite his attempts to downplay it, exudes intelligence effortlessly, and it’s this subtle brilliance that makes him irresistibly attractive.

Sure, we’ve had our fair share of arguments, a clash of wills rooted in the image he feels compelled to uphold. But, oh, how we love. Love transcends the disagreements, and the project, beyond its academic significance, emerged as the catalyst that brought us together. It changed my life, and if you were to look into my eyes, you’d see the depth of my feelings—a love that transforms the way we gaze at each other.

Our eyes tell a story of admiration and attraction, a silent language that binds us with an invisible thread even when words remain unspoken. My eyes, always twinkling and smiling in the company of the love of my life, bear witness to undying feelings—a connection that surpasses the boundaries of time and space.

I share this not merely as a personal anecdote but as a testament to what truly matters. Love, in all its complexities and simplicity, matters more than the rigors of university assignments. University, at its core, is about forging connections and savoring the joy in every moment. It isn’t the end of the world, and even if we stumble, even if we fail, we will endure and live on.

As I reflect on our journey, I can honestly say I have no regrets. This year, I faced a tough challenge—severe anxiety. It affected everything—my studies, friendships, and especially my relationship with Jeno. But I want you to know, I overcame it. My message to all of you is that no matter what life throws your way, you have the strength to overcome it. I believe in you.

Life is unpredictable, but that's what makes it beautiful. Live your life fully, surround yourself with good friends and family. If things get tough, our pods, created by Jeno and me, is there for you.

And speaking of Jeno, the love of my life, this speech is for him. He's been my strength, and I dedicate these words to him. Thank you, and may your journeys ahead be filled with triumphs and love.

So, as we stand on the brink of a new chapter, let’s celebrate the love that intertwines our stories. For in this shared journey, we find the essence of what makes university life extraordinary—moments of connection, joy, and, above all, love.

Thank you, and cheers to the Class of 2023. May your journeys ahead be filled with triumphs and love.”

As the cheers, claps, and laughter of the audience envelop the room, your joy is palpable. Hats soar into the air, mirroring the elation etched across your face. Happiness radiates from you, a beacon in the sea of celebration. Amidst the sea of faces, you find yourself scanning for one person, and a momentary pang of disappointment strikes when his seat appears empty.

However, a sudden embrace from behind interrupts your search, and there's only one pair of arms that could make you feel this secure. Your boyfriend envelops you in a back hug, his whispered words in your ear a sweet symphony of pride and love. He praises your performance, telling you just how incredibly well you did. “I’m so proud of you, I love you.”

His arms, strong and muscular, create a haven around you. You melt into the embrace, feeling the warmth and security he provides. Leaning back into him, his words take a playful turn. His hot breath against your ear, he smirks and teases, “You think you're the only one who can embarrass people?”

Suddenly, his lips meet yours in a public display of affection on the elevated stage. The kiss is not just a peck; it's heated, passionate, and unapologetic. The world fades away as he doesn't seem to have any intention of stopping.

In the heat of the moment, the kiss is all-consuming, a full-on collision of passion. Your tongues engage in a fervent dance, an intimate tangle that heightens the intensity. Jeno's bites on your lips add a playful edge to the heated exchange, each nibble sending sparks through the connection.

As he breathes heavily against you, the air between you crackles with desire. The sensation of his arousal intensifies, palpable in the way he presses against you. His grip on your hair is tight, an assertion of desire that elicits a wince, a sweet blend of pleasure and a hint of pain.

Amid the fervor, your arm circles around his neck, drawing him closer. A smile that plays on your lips before you break away to catch your breath. “I’m not embarrassed. Why would I be? I love you, and I don't care who sees and knows."

His grin widens as he witnesses your transformation—a bolder, more unapologetic version of yourself. In this moment, you radiate confidence, embracing the essence of who you are without concern for others' opinions. His love for you deepens as he watches you stand tall, proud of the person you've become. In his eyes, your authenticity and resilience are truly something to be cherished.

The audience, initially cheering for your performance, now witnesses a different kind of spectacle—one fueled by love, playfulness, and an unapologetic embrace of affection. It's a scene etched in the memories of those present, a testament to the unabashed love between you and your boyfriend.

As you both watch each other with affectionate smiles, Jeno can't help but speak up, his tone filled with playful disbelief. "Really? You're not embarrassed? What happened to that line you were gonna—" He pauses, groaning and widening his eyes as you tap on the microphone, shamelessly grabbing the audience's attention once again.

“Y/N. No. I was just joking. Oh God.”

A moment of silence descends like a dropped pin could be heard. "I have something to add," you say, holding Jeno's hand and locking eyes with him. "I don't believe in God, but God made you for me. I love you, Lee Jeno."

Jeno groans as people whistle but as he looks in your eyes, he has to admit that he’s quite fond of this moment. He shakes his head, coming up behind you once more. "I love you more," he counters with a teasing smile.

"Really, God made me for you? That's a good one," he remarks, his tone light but with a subtle darkness in his eyes.

You respond with a sweet smile, "Never in my life did I think I'd experience a love story like this."

Your gaze is light and affectionate, but Jeno's eyes darken as he playfully accuses, "My blasphemous girl."

The atmosphere is meant to be romantic, he’s kissing you so softly and cooing into your ear as you melt into his back, his strong arms caging you in. The crowd erupts in cheers, and you force a smile, concealing the internal struggle between desire and the need to maintain composure.

Your sharp warning cuts through the air, adding a tense edge. "It's supposed to be a romantic moment; I will cut your fucking dick off," you declare, your tone carrying a mix of threat and irritation.

"Don't talk to me like that when you're the one rubbing against me like a bitch in heat." He grits through his teeth, somehow managing to conceal himself when he lands a slap on your ass, warning you to behave.

"This is a cute moment. My parents are here, and so are yours. Your mom is crying," he whispers in your ear, prompting a wave and a few tears as you look her way but she’s not even paying attention to you, you roll your eyes as Jeno blows her a kiss.

However, he quickly shifts the tone, calling out your arousal. "And you're horny?" he remarks, a mix of amusement and admonishment. "You better stop, or the entire audience will hear you scream my name," he warns, heightening the suspense.

"And you're not wearing underwear? You needy slut.” Jeno teases with a playful smirk evident in his voice.

Your response, delivered with a pout, adds a touch of endearing innocence to the playful exchange. “You literally took it off in the car.” You protest, the pout reflecting a mix of innocence and mild reproach.

Jeno's counter, delivered with a chuckle. "Yeah, because you made me park halfway here because you wanted to ride my cock.”

“What was I supposed to do? You was so cute in the car, telling me that I’m your other half, that you see yourself marrying me and growing old with me, did you or did you not deserve to get your cock sucked in that moment?”

He gives you a knowing smirk. “I did.”

- -

if you enjoy please leave an ask <3 talk to me. i've uploaded this 3 times cus ive been shadowbanned

comment to be added to the tag list for the sequel

wanna check out more mfal content? check out the mfal ml here includes text posts, never seen before scenes, smut scenes, facts and behind the scenes content <3

[yandere-romanticaa]

𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭.

🎀 Traveling from nation to nation and learning the art of creating the most delicious chocolate has been a passion of yours for ages. However, upon stepping foot into the Nation of Flame, you never could have prepared yourself for the incoming wave of sweetness and obsession which was going to hit you like never before.

A/N: This story is loosely inspired by Joanne Harris' book of the same title, Chocolat. It's a book that I am very fond of and I was inspired to write this once I saw that we were able to make chocolate in Natlan, probably the best thing in the game. I am a massive chocolate enjoyer, so... Also, the fic has some minor nsfw implications, just a bit of a heads up! Apologies if Kinich is not in character, oopsie.

yandere! kinich x fem! reader.

Proud warriors, the scorching hot sun and eternal flames were the first things that came to mind whenever you would think about Natlan. As a humble Mondstadter, it never occurred to you just how rich this nation was, how welcoming the people were going to be and not to mention how this place could help you develop your love for chocolate.

Stirring the pot in front of you was no easy task as the decadent scent of delightful goodness enveloped the entire humble little hut which you occupied, the entire floor littered with pots and pans filled to the brim with your creations and some personal trinkets which you had brought for yourself along for the journey.

One of Natlan's great tribes, the Scions of the Canopy, had graciously taken you under their wing and allowed you the privilege of experiencing the culture firsthand. You let out a wistful sigh as the chocolate bubbled happily before you, the dark liquid almost looking too good to be real.

You always took pride in your skills as a chocolatier, even if you hardly considered yourself the best one in the whole entire world. An endless sky of knowledge was out there waiting for you, the voices of the unknown beckoning you to come forward and seize them with your own two hands.

You were a true Mondstadter at heart. No matter where you were or how far you traversed, the wind was always there to guide you, to show you the right path. And right now, the flow of the wind said to stay in Natlan, to finally stop and smell the roses a little.

And each rose you touched had never been as sweet.

The rose, your rose, had a name and merely thinking of him sent your heart ablaze. Messy dark hair, gorgeous dew eyes and skin so perfectly rough and tender at the same time, it made you wonder how he managed to pull off something so contradictory.

That was Kinich's charm, you supposed. Cheeky little thing, he always looked out for you ever since he saw you. Despite his dry humor and straightforward attitude, there was a certain gentle quality to him which made him so irresistible, as if he was temptation personified. Never once did he leave you alone for the entirety of your trip if it could be helped, which came as a shock to his fellow tribe members.

Looking back on it, you were foolish to not see his intentions, even more so for not paying attention to the longing glimmer in his eye and how he would trail after you like a shadow.

He was shy, at first. Unsure on how he should express his feelings, Kinich merely resorted to doing things for you, because he was simply that kind of man. Actions speak louder than words and there was no word in the dictionary which could describe the way in which his chest would tighten in pain whenever he would make eye contact with you, as if large and thorny vines had sprouted from the ground up and taken root in his soul.

You are sweeter than any chocolate you could possibly make, he whispered into your ear one evening.

A shudder came over you, your cheeks hot at the memory of that night... The moon was high and full, overtaking the pitch black sky as Kinich had pinned you to the ground, his gaze boring deeply in your own, those large eyes focused on you and only you...

Chewing your bottom lip, you stirred the pot harshly as the memory replayed in your head over and over - his grip, which was tighter than any rope imaginable, the feeling of melted chocolate which was caked over your lips and fingers, the sensation of Kinich's tongue as he licked away the sweet goodness off your body...

By the seven, this was too much.

With a huff, you turned off the fire which was lit beneath the pot, your hands shaking with excitement as you felt your entire body growing hotter and hotter, making it harder to concentrate.

Damn that Kinich. Damn him for making you feel so wonderful, so wanted, so perfect. The thought of having to leave this place, it... It bordered on anguish. Sometimes, when you were sure no one was around, you would find a dark little corner and weep quietly to yourself. It was hard to manage the massive hiccups and keep the snot away from staining your clothes at first but you managed. Like always, you would find a way to get everything back in order and all would be well once you got everything out of your system.

You had fallen for Natlan. You had fallen even more so than Kinich. Even so, the wind was picking up once more, demanding that you make your next move.

There was so little time left to enjoy everything you had built here. Therefore, your plan was to make the most of everything you possibly could.

And Kinich was more than ready to assist with that.

He hid high up in a tree as he observed you, his face schooled into that of one of his classical nonchalance and stoicism. The chance of him being spotted by anyone up here was slim but even so, he liked to play it safe.

No one needed to know the pain he was in. No one needed to be aware of his more... dubious thoughts and actions. Kinich always fancied himself as a man of action rather than flowery words. And so, he acted.

Quietly, stealthily... Perhaps even a little lethally at times.

Violence was hardly ever the answer but if anyone got in his way and refused to back down, it was his only solution then.

Kinich had a solid reputation in his tribe - he was trustworthy, he was strong. This granted him access to many things, many useful and convenient things. All he had to do was say the word and most people would keep their mouths shut if they saw him somewhere he should not be. And if his poorly veiled threats were not enough, he was more than ready to take up his weapon and fight.

It really was that easy for him.

Sneaking into your newly built home was its own beast though.

This is wrong, he would chant inside his mind over and over again. The intensity of his actions and his nonchalant persona were always at a clash with one another, constantly fighting a never ending war. He should trust you, he knows you are capable, he has no right to be doing any of this even yet... And yet, he does it anyway.

Because he knows that if he doesn't do something, he will never see you again. Kinich knows that he will lose you to the wind if he lets you slip through his fingers, he will never get to experience what it means to be touched, to be loved.

He wants to adore you in the same way people adore your delectable creations. The various statues made from chocolates, the little cacao bites, the endless sea of pralines which would be devoured so fast by the masses that he could not keep up...

Whenever he had the luxury, he liked to imagine you as one of those pralines. Perfect and oh so easy to devour, you were nothing short of excellent in his eyes. Kinich was no blind fool, he was well aware that you had your flaws as well but he cared very little about that.

He wanted the entire package. He wanted you, wrapped up in a little bow and delivered on his doorstep like the world's most precious package, a package which he could unwrap and enjoy time and time over.

Even in his hazy state of mind, he could still recall how you tasted. Licking his lips, Kinich made sure to double check that he had taken a few things from your hut which could prevent you from finishing your latest project. Yes, that was petty of him.

But he could not be bothered to care.

The wind was cruel. Whenever a gust of it would blow at him, Kinich would scowl as he knew that it meant that you would take it as a sign to leave. His hair would get tousled as he would wrap his arms around his body, the constant yapping of Ajaw did him no good either.

The clock was ticking. There was only so much he could do to keep you here. A plan needed to be formed, fast.

For now, he was going to enjoy you in every way he could. He was going to be greedy and devour you wholly whenever the opportunity arose. As Kinich balanced himself up on the massive tree branch, yet another fresh gust of wind made its way towards him. He saw the way you popped your shoulders, that all too familiar smile on your face.

You loved the wind and the wind loved you. You loved to make chocolate and were quite excellent at it too.

Despite all that, Kinich loved you more. He adored you more than the sun adored the world, he wanted you more than unlike anything else before. He cursed the Anemo Archon underneath his breath, his poor lip bloody and bruised from the amount of times he had bitten it in order to keep himself quiet.

Kinch was a man of countless deeds. And he would find a way to keep you by his side, no matter the cost. Be it Celestia or the Abyss, there was no force in this world which could destroy the endless and raging fire he felt for you.

[specshroom]

A Mischievous Fairy

˚˖′.⊹ ࣪ ˖˚·˖*.⊹ ࣪ ˖˚·˖′.⊹ ࣪ ˖˚·˖*.⊹ ࣪ ˖˚·˚˖′.⊹ ࣪ ˖˚·˖*.⊹

When a humble farmer decided to live on the outskirts of town right next to the forest he did not expect to make friends with a small temperamental creature from the forest.

It was a pretty good deal you had going on, you help his plants grow with fairy magic and he gives you a safe warm place to sleep and home cooked meals. Most days are spent with you doing your best to annoy the poor farmer as he tries to remind himself that you're the reason his produce sells for such high prices.

You fly around his head making little jingle noises and he tries to ignore you and go on with his work. You steal little things like spoons, screwdrivers, pencils and put them in places he can't reach like on top of the cabinets and shelves. When you get mad at him you grow weeds in his crops until he apologizes or gives you a gift to your liking. Despite this the farmer has grown to truly enjoy your company...for the most part.

His loneliness is getting to him and he's tried to have company over but it's kind of hard to explain to guests why there's a little, scantily clad fairy staring daggers at them the whole time. It definitely ruins the mood as he tries to convince them you won't bite (you will and you have).

One day the farmer comes home from town looking more excited than usual. You plop yourself on his head as he walks around his little cottage.

As he sorts through all the items he bought you get impatient and decide he's not paying enough attention to you. You fly right in front of his face and pose for him, showing off the new outfit you made out of flower petals in his garden.

"Not right now, Tiny."

The farmer rolls his eyes and gently shoos you away with his hand, focusing back onto his apparently very interesting haul from the market. The very rude gesture gets you all fired up and you're in his face again this time with your hands on your hips and an angry expression. The farmer sighs and gently cradles your tiny body in his hands.

"Look, I'm busy. Alright?"

He walks over to the windowsill and gently plops you down onto the little pincushion he set aside for you. You sit there with your arms crossed, glaring at him as he puts away his items.

While you're sulking you notice a little bottle of purple liquid poking out of the farmers front pocket. You quietly flutter over and sneakily inch the tiny thing out of his pocket.

"Hey!"

The farmer tries to stop you but you're much faster than him and fly up, out of his reach. The glass bottle is a little bigger than you're torso and when you inspect it the label says "Growth serum"

You let out quite a dramatic gasp and look down at the farmer, betrayal written all over your face.

"Now Tiny, don't jump to conclu-"

The farmer starts but is interrupted by a very angry fairy yelling things he doesn't understand right in his face. All he can hear is jingles but he's sure he's getting severely cussed at. He understands why, you helped this man grow his crops bigger and better than ever and now you think he wants to replace you for some stupid, probably overpriced serum?

You angrily throw the bottle to the ground and the farmer dives down to clumsily catch it before it smashes onto the floor.

As you feel tears fall down your hot cheeks, you flutter back to your windowsill and sit with your head between your knees.

"Hey, don't cry now."

The farmer sheepishly leans against the windowsill next to you.

"I promise, it's not for the plants. You already help me out so much with that and I appreciate it a lot. I don't need anything else."

You peak your head out from your arms and look at him skeptically.

He holds his hand out to you and you hesitantly flutter onto his palm, enjoying the warmth of his touch despite the cold wetness of your cheeks.

"Truth is, it's lonely for me out here... and I know you get lonely too."

You scoff at him. Obviously, the whole reason you were upset in the first place was because he was ignoring you.

"I uh... I got this for you. So we could....uh well only if you want to, I mean... I don't know."

You stare at him dumbfounded as he fumbles his words, you've never seen the farmer like this before.

You shoot up to hug his cheek, jingling in excitement. You give him tiny kisses and he laughs at the ticklish feeling. You float to the counter in front of him and bounce on your heels waiting for him.

"Alright, alright."

He chuckles at your stark change in mood and uncaps the tiny bottle of magic liquid. You brace yourself as he carefully lets one single drop fall onto your little head.

Nothing happens for a moment but before you could feel disappointed the world blurs and you're suddenly face to face with your farmer.

He stares down at where you sit on his counter, now perfectly human sized. Your cute dress didn't survive the quick transition but you don't seem to mind as you jump the poor farmer.

You grab his face and kiss him deeply. Finally feeling his lips on yours makes your wings flutter and your heart sing as you lock your legs around him to pull his body closer.

"Alright, slow down."

He says through kisses and huffed laughs as you kiss all over his face and neck.

"Now why don't you let me show you how much I appreciate you."

He mumbles in a sultry tone, bringing his hands down to grip your ass and grind your hips into him.

He laughs at the way your wings violently flutter and takes that as eager agreement.

˚˖′.⊹ ࣪ ˖˚·˖*.⊹ ࣪ ˖˚·˖′.⊹ ࣪ ˖˚·˖*.⊹ ࣪ ˖˚·˚˖′.⊹ ࣪ ˖˚·˖*.⊹

[m-ilkiee]

E-boys Ruined my Life: Toxic! Megumi Fushiguro x Fem Reader

Chapter 1: Love at First Sight

[series summary]: you had a crush on Megumi for so long, you hoped you would meet him again. But now, as you stand before him, you realize that Fushiguro Megumi is not the same kid as he was at fifteen- he was taller, broader and far more handsome than ever. And a whole lot meaner to you.

[synopsis]: Being friends with the IT GIRLS as a first year has a lot of perks; new friends, a popularity boost and crossing paths constantly with your high school crush after many years apart, Megumi Fushiguro. this is a heavily edited and revised chapter.

[cw]: DARK CONTENT, NSFW, aged up characters, classism - elitism, sexism/misogyny, unhealthy body image, violence, mentions of bullying and suicidal ideation, slut shaming, objectification, parasocial relationships, gaslighting, manipulation, sex between characters, brief mention of teenagers fooling around.

[r-18+] (not suitable for 17 and under)

[wc] 13.5k

[masterlist] [chapter 2] [taglist] [playlist] [main]

  THERE’S just something so thrilling about having positive attention.

Each step you take down the campus quad has heads turning your way in awe. Decked in original pink juicy couture tracks, white Nike sneakers with pink highlights and your white hermes bag hanging off your arm, you strutted onwards with your head held up high. Everything about you screamed perfection, from your proper posture to your brand new hair-do, to your freshly microbladed brows, to your light ‘clean girl’ makeup that accented your best features, down to new manipedi you got.

Things you took care of no matter how much pain or discomfort you were in. And it was worth every hot wax pulled off your skin.

All eyes were on you, stopping in their tracks just to admire your beauty. You could hear whistles and compliments being thrown at you from all sides, but you pay no mind to them, instead scanning the surroundings until you spot a familiar blue haired girl sitting at the edge of the quad with the other girls. She notices you as well, breaking into a smile as she waves you over and you make your way to their spot excitedly, plopping yourself on the bench besides your friends.

The IT girls of Wilhelm Baldwin University; that’s what the school dubbed your group, made up of the most popular girls in the school.

“Honestly, you’re one of the only people who I’ve seen wear a tracksuit and still look hot with it.” the blue haired girl, Miwa, spoke, her eyes admiring your outfit. She was the sweetest girl you’ve ever met, coming from humble beginnings and doing everything she could to support her family as the sole breadwinner.

She started creating lifestyle and baking content on her tik tok as a way to pass time when she was bored, only for her to grow big overnight, appearing on shows, tours and other events. Now she settled to go to school, wanting an education and she makes lifestyle content about her chaotic days in university.

Everyone knew her as the nice girl of the group, always willing to let people down gently and helping people who asked. To outsiders Miwa was a saint. To the inner workings of your group, she could be a little misguided and thick headed at times. Despite all that, she’s your closest friend and the first ever person you met on college campus, long before you became popular.

“It’s juicy couture Miwa. Of course it’s gonna look good. Well on someone as hot as (name).” A blonde haired girl who was sitting across added. 

Momo Nishimiya, a trust-fund baby whose parents practically own the legal world in the palm of their hands. With her father as a rather influential senator and her mother as the chief justice of the nation, Momo is set for life. You never let her five foot appearance fool you; just like her parents she was vicious, smart and could pull just the right strings to get people to do what she wanted.

Not even her dad was safe. The cherry red sports’ car sitting in the school’s parking lot is a testament of how convincing she could be.

You’re glad she was an ally and not an enemy.

“I’m just shocked that new money is finally wearing something original.” the girl with the short green hair sitting next to Momo says with a sly grin, her mocking tone grinding your gears.

Mai Zenin, the leader of the group and the bane of your fucking existence. Coming from a long line of generational wealth of the Zenin’s, Mai is the President of the biggest sorority in the nation, the Zeta house, a business major at the top of her class and an olympic gold medalist in the shooting range category.

It didn’t help that she was also gorgeous and her pores were effortlessly clear, because by god was she infuriating and you wished there was just something you could say to knock her down a peg.

Cocking her head sideways, Mai’s pink lips curled up into a smirk as she placed her chin on her propped up hand. “It is real Juicy Couture, right?”

“It is real.” You quip back in a sickly sweet voice, returning a strained smile and resisting the urge to just jump her. “I thought old money could recognize real from fake, guess you’re not that good at spotting the difference.”

And then there is the newest addition to the group, you, (name) (last name). From the generous nickname Mai gave you, you’re new money after your mother married your step-father, a highly controversial marriage to the media. Being the youngest and only freshman to ever join the group without being in Mai’s sorority, you’ve garnered attention within just months of entering the university.

You would think you would have done something noteworthy for the entire school to notice you; but no that’s not what happened.

You’re popular because you’re the hottest girl on campus.

No seriously.

There was a stupid ranking of the hottest freshman girl and you won. Not a sorority sister or some girl rushing for a sorority, nor a much more wealthy socialite who had years of money to keep looking hot. You assumed that with the world’s weird beauty standards you would barely be noticed, which was fine, but somehow the university decided they liked you and they liked the way you looked.

You went from being a homebody glued to your screen to being invited out by other girls to gatherings, getting free things on campus and being asked out every 3-7 business days.

And who was Mai to ignore the opportunity of a rising star?

Mai laughed at your clap back, her eyes sparkling with interest as she leaned back on the picnic chair. “Don’t be mad at me, I saved you from a scandal by giving you valid criticism. Imagine if the tabloids caught you wearing fake Vancleef, ‘(Last name) - Nanami caught wearing a dupe, is the mother-daughter duo still stuck with their penny pinching ways?’ Is that the kind of news you’d want following you around, new money?”

You gritted your teeth in frustration, recalling exactly how you got into that mess which heavily involved Mai Zenin. “You were the one who sent me to that store in the first place.”

“I was trying to teach you how to tell what’s a dupe and what’s not. And it’s paying off. You look so much better in original clothes.”

“Why you-”

“Ladies enough! Hearing about dupes makes my head hurt.” Momo cuts in, ending the argument before it could escalate any further. Both you and Mai instantly back down from the heated argument, still glaring down at each other. “And where is that pledge with our drinks? I’m really not in the mood to get through the day without my fix of espresso.”

“You’re just antsy cause you pulled an all-nighter with some project.” Mai teased her blonde friend, suddenly in a good mood again. “I told you to give that shit to some poor nerd who needs the money to do it for you.”

“I’d rather not. Most of them are so mediocre in their academic papers, it makes my skin crawl -”

You tune out the rest of their conversation, not wanting to hear the two girls talk about how poor people are dumb losers and how much better they are compared to people of lower class, picking up your phone and going straight to instagram. Mindlessly, you scrolled through your feed, only liking pictures of hot guys, your friends and food content, really nothing out of the ordinary with your feed.

Sometimes you wonder if this was going to be your college experience.

You had barely just entered school and already you were at the top of the food chain, which was good for you. Being the newest socialite, you knew it would be hard for anyone to respect you. 

It was different for someone like Miwa, who made the money by herself. She had more respect from wealthy people, than you who by proxy inherited it by your mother marrying into money.

Your dumb luck has saved you from being known as the gold digger’s daughter and you’re grateful for it.

Anyone would kill to be in your position right now and yet, you feel like you’re wasting away. There are so many restrictions attached to the lifestyle you’re living, so many clubs you can’t join because you let Mai dictate what you can or can’t do.

“The Wilhelm Baldwin University Theatre is inviting you to our play production, Legally Blonde on 26th Nov 2024.”

You hover on the instagram post on your school’s official account, staring at it sadly as you think about your situation. Something twists in your heart at the e-poster, a solemn smile making its way to your face. A distant past where you would have jumped at the opportunity to be involved in the arts flashes back into your mind.

‘Perhaps there is truly a price for fame and popularity…’

“Hey, isn’t that the play by the University’s theatre club?”

You’re quickly snapped out of your thoughts by Miwa, but soon your shock turns to annoyance when you realise she was looking into your phone while you were distracted. Before you could reprimand her, Mai and Momo quickly shifted their attention to what she had said, clearly interested in the newest information, their faces twisted into ugly smirks.

“Those Juillard wannabees are hosting a play? That’s rich. What are they gonna do? Another shitty rendition of Romeo and Juliet?”

You internally cringe at Mai’s scornful tone but you couldn’t deny her words. Your school’s theatre program is rather underfunded, putting more money in your cheer team, football squad and fraternities. Only people either on scholarships or who are currently knee-deep in college debt make up the majority of the program's occupants.

Another difference between class divisions in this school.

Before you could say anything to change the topic, Momo snatches your phone from your hand and takes a good look at the poster. “They’re doing Legally Blonde?? These bottom feeders are literally cosplaying a socialite. Be for real”

The two girls burst into laughter, nearly knocking over your expensive iphone as if it’s the funniest thing on earth. Miwa bites her lip, a look of guilt crossing over her face the moment she sees your fists clenched underneath the table in annoyance. You’re quick to take slow deep breaths, counting from one - ten as the two older girls continued to berate the play between scornful laughter.

“Wait wait, let's check the casting…” Mai says between gasps, scrolling to see the people playing the characters. A feeling of dread washes down your body when you see her sneer at the first picture. “Hana Kurusu is the person they picked to be THE Elle Woods? THEY picked a girl who wears shoes from goodwill to play Elle woods? Who casted this?”

‘I’m pretty sure they don’t base their criteria for casting based on where you get shoes from’

“She’s not even close to being hot.” Momo adds, her tone tinged with pure disgust. “I can’t believe they picked her.”

“Maybe she’s a good actress.” Miwa says in a dead tone, trying to salvage the situation. The older girls look at Miwa as if she’s grown two heads, before sighing and shaking their heads like she’s an impetuous child. “Look, Miwa-chan, I know you’re a sweetheart but you know none of those theatre kids have any talent. They take in anyone, ANYONE. New money can agree with me on this one.”

All eyes turned to you, expectant of your answer. Anxiousness creeps onto your skin as the spotlight is put on you, all your anger dissipating as Mai’s gaze burns deep into your soul, waiting for you to agree with her. As much as you’re usually going toe to toe with Mai, you know your spot with the IT girls was still tentative. This is one of the arguments that could make or break you; while she loves being challenged, Mai will never forgive you if you show sympathy for any person she considers beneath her status.

On one hand, you could risk Mai genuinely hating you and making her your enemy by telling her the truth, that Hana truly has more talent than Mai ever will.

On the other hand…

You plucked your phone from Momo’s hand, taking a good look at the picture before throwing your phone aside dramatically, gagging in disgust. “Ewwww, that’s the girl that wears that ugly sweater from Costco three times a week. I hope her acting isn't as ugly as her fashion sense.”

Your comment breaks the tension, making the three girls - yes even Miwa - bark with laughter, nearly losing their minds at your reaction, sealing the deal. You settle into a small smile as the pledge brings your drinks to the table, placing your frappuccino in front of you. You carefully sip your drink, washing down the bitter taste of guilt with its sweetness.

‘Keep your friends close and wealthy friends with connections closer.’

   ZENIN Megumi hated Trending Tuesdays on the T with a burning passion.

He hated a lot of things, to be fair, but this was at the top of the list of things he hated. It was like a dick measuring contest that some of his classmates did in high school, only on a much larger scale involving a bunch of grown adults who should be doing something better than watching the latest trend on a thinly veiled gossip blog masquerading as the school’s website.

The fraternity usually got louder during Trending Tuesdays, hollering about the newest girl they considered hot and who was not or what guy did the craziest thing. Usually on these kinds of days, Megumi would go up to his private room and smoke whilst blasting music or playing League of Legends, but now as the president of his fraternity, he has responsibilities. He has to be present, even if it killed him on the inside, at least to encourage this stupid bonding activity or whatever his vice-president, Yuuji Itadori told him.

“Aren’t you going to show the slightest interest in Trending Tuesdays?”

Speak of the devil.

Megumi turns his attention from the book he’s reading, “The Godfather” to Yuuji Itadori. The pink haired man had always been there for him since Megumi moved schools; even as he fell into deeper darkness as he spent more time with the Zenins, he and that crazy bitch Nobara stood beside him. Yuuji was the more fun one, much more cut out to be the president of the Fraternity in Megumi’s opinion, even though he’d say otherwise. He has been so invested in Trending Tuesdays as a tradition and perhaps that’s why he wants Megumi to be more involved this year.

“You want me to huddle over a phone with other guys to see what girl half of the fraternity will jerk off to tonight?” Megumi crosses his arms. He knows he’ll cave eventually because it’s Yuuji, but he’s not going to make it easy for him either. “Isn’t my presence while this madness is going on in the common room enough?”

“Come onnnn! Toge’s gonna put it on the TV anyways so you won’t have to rub shoulders with people” Yuuji groans childishly, making the dark haired man roll his eyes in response. Sometimes his friend can be so irritating whenever he wants him to do something, especially if it involves socialising with people. “We just have one more year before we graduate, aren’t you in the slightest curious about it?”

“No.”

“But it’s like a team bonding exercise! Besides, you might see a girl you’ll actually like in this school.”

Megumi almost wants to laugh at Yuuji’s statement. It’s just as ridiculous as the elders in the Zenin family who keep insisting for him to at least have a main girl so that the future of their bloodline is secure. Only that Yuuji thinks that Megumi is only sleeping with different girls cause he hasn’t found the right one yet.

At least the Zenin’s are not naïve to his real intentions.

“As long as it's not school sanctioned, I don’t care.”

His blunt tone deflates Yuuji’s cheerful mood once more and for a brief moment Megumi thinks he’s worn Yuuji down, returning to read his book in peace.

“PleasePleasePleasePleasePlease-”

Sick of Yuuji’s incessant nagging, the dark haired man barked out “I’m coming, I’m coming!” throwing the novel aside and storming off, Yuuji following behind with a shit eating grin.

  THE second he enters the common room, the once chattering room goes silent.

Megumi isn’t new to his frat brothers fearing him. He is not a particularly friendly face with his usual grumpy expression and towering height, and he has the personality to match, quiet with a stern personality. It could be his policies that make them instantly shape up whenever he is around, scared that he’d lash out at them at any moment or expel them for the slightest mistake.

It’s not like their fears are unfounded though. But he only punishes annoyances and as long as they stay out of his way and his room, they’re safe.

They clear the way for him and Yuuji, letting them walk to the largest chair in the common room, greetings of “Good day President” “Good day vice-president” echoing throughout the room. Yuuji is the only one that responds, telling them to loosen up. “We’re just here for trending Tuesdays. No one’s gonna get in trouble today for being rowdy, right, Zenin?”

“We’ll see.”

A white haired male was already perched on their usual seat, brows pinched in concentration as he connected his phone's bluetooth to the television. The man raised his head, his sour expression quickly turning to shock when he saw Megumi standing in front of him. He looked from Megumi  to Yuuji, discarding his phone to put a hand in front of his face, bending his fingers in and out, his lips mimicking Megumi’s usual grouchy frown.

“How the hell did you get Mr. Grumpy out of his room for Trending Tuesday? You didn’t offer him a free fuck like one of his whores, right?”

Megumi felt his eye twitch as Yuuji snorted at the comment. before rapidly signing back. “Fuck you, Toge.”

Toge rolled his eyes at Megumi in response, before moving aside so that he and Yuuji could sit and the common room goes back to their chattering as before when they realise Megumi wasn’t doing any official duties today.

Toge Inumaki was a senior majoring in robotics engineering, their fraternities treasurer, as well as a grade one menace to society.

People make the mistake of assuming he’s a quiet guy because he doesn’t say anything and think he’s this sort of mysterious and cool person who keeps to himself, not knowing that he’s mute, deaf in his right ear and partially deaf in his left, always donning his hearing aids. Toge doesn’t bother clearing up the rumours, rather taking glee in watching people try to get close to him to get him to ‘open up’, only to be horrified when they realise his disability and feel immense guilt right after.

Yuuji had tried talking him out of it, but he defended his actions with, “That’s what they get for treating me like a social experiment. They wanna be friends with the quiet rich kid to get favours.”

Megumi doesn’t blame him. Ever since meeting Toge, when he moved high schools, he knew that people either treat him as the introverted project they want to take on or the poor disabled kid who no one understands, but never a human being.

Sometimes, people would straight up not believe him that he can’t hear them without his aid because he’s “too cute to be disabled”.

Even his parents are weird around him, never once attempting to learn sign language themselves since it would be too ‘tasking’.

It hasn’t damped Toge’s sense of humour regardless. Anyone who knows Toge and knows sign language knows that the white haired man is a talkative with a filthy mouth. He’s a prankster and pledges are advised to avoid him, seeing as they’re the most susceptible to his rather cruel jokes.

Girls seem to like him though, if the irritating screams of pleasure that keeps everyone else up at night every time he has a study partner were anything to go by.

Toge goes straight to the school’s website, the T and the website comes up, a large TRENDING TUESDAY typed in cursive letters was at the top of the blog post. Realising that he was out of his element, Megumi turns to Yuuji to ask “So how does this work again?”

“Well, trending Tuesdays are all about who is or are the most influential students in school today. Whether it’s pranks, or the cutest couple or even someone that did something impressive today, it all depends on who had the most impact. They write a short blurb and say something about the person.” Yuuji doesn’t turn his attention away from the screen as he continues. “You’ve always been in the top three since you entered this school.”

“Is that so?”

Megumi shrugs nonchalantly, a small smile on his lips. Sure, he hates the T and thinks it’s a pointless program but being at the top without even trying feeds his large ego a little bit.

Toge scrolls up the page, ignoring the people at the hundredth place because they’re obviously irrelevant and gets to the top twenty. A picture of a girl with white hair in short bob wearing a white sweater and black pants in one picture, and a blonde wig in another wearing a hot pink suit in another comes up.

‘Hana Kurusu, the head of the theatre club is the first to spearhead a high end production of legally blonde. While we’re really happy for her, let’s not get our hopes up, this play is going to be garbage fire-’

Megumi quickly tunes out the rest of the post and the rest of the frat talking about how the musical will be dog shit, not really interested in anything about Hana. Sure, she’s a decent fuck and she does whatever he wants, including keeping her mouth shut about their arrangement but that didn’t mean he cared about her.

“Damn, they really ripped the theatre kids a new one. I don’t think they deserve that” Yuuji murmurs.

“The T didn’t lie, I tried giving theatre a chance for a hot girl who was super into it. I ended up taking off my hearing aids mid-performance because I didn’t pay to hear such shit acting”

“Toge!”

“It was a shame, she had really nice tits but she can’t sing or act for shit. Instant turn off. Why do something you’re shit at?”

Megumi nods in agreement, replying to Toge’s argument. “Only broke kids join theatre to be part of something. The fee is low and they think they’ll make it in Hollywood since they schooled here.”

The rest of the top 15 were uneventful, apart from Yuuji at number 6 who practically broke a school record in track and field, set up by the fastest runner in ‘08, Zenin Naoya - Megumi’s shitty cousin amongst the sea of shit family members he has.

As usual, Yuuji shrugs it off despite everyone screaming in shock and congratulating him, saying it's not a big deal. Maybe it’s because he’s a beast at almost every sport he touches that he’s so humble with his achievement. All his years of knowing Yuuji from high school, he has always remained humble and friendly, never letting his success get to his head.

He’s sure if Naoya ever finds out, he’d be pissed.

Good.

Finally they make it to the top five, the most anticipated people that everyone is always curious about. Usually, the top five is not just about achievements, it’s about looks, it’s about charisma, it about how much people thirst over them.

They encapsulate the true shallowness of the student body.

‘At number five, it’s Momo Nishimiya. Winning the debate nationals and making it as the head of the national model UN, there are big things awaiting the beauty with brains from the IT girls group. I’m sure I see another cherry red sports car in ms. Nishimiya’s future or another trip to the Bahamas as a celebration! Make sure to post those Bikini pics babe’

“Preferably the latter.” Some of the frat boys murmured, their voices dripping with lust that it’s nearly pathetic. “I’ve got to see her in a bikini again or I’ll kill myself.”

‘I hope you do, you’re actually annoying.’

Megumi doesn’t stop them from being nasty little perverts though. In his opinion, it's just the way boys talk, especially when they’re with their fellow guys.

It’s not like they mean any harm by being horny.

‘At number four, making it to the cover of Independent and a guest appearance on the Tonight Show, Mai Zenin. Well, are we really surprised to see ms. hot stuff, perfect ass at the top?

Running the school with an Iron fist, Mai, the leader of the IT girls has always maintained her relevance from the second she won an olympic gold medal in shooting range. A mixture of grace and smarts, there is always a spot for her in the top five.’

Megumi sighs the second he sees Mai’s magazine cover; wearing a rather sexualized version of a chesogam, she leans on a chair with her legs crossed, the long slit giving view of her long legs. Her smile is sultry, never reaching her eyes.

He has never seen her ever smile genuinely before in all the time he spent in the Zenin household. Not that he blames her, the way they treated women in that place was nothing to smile about.

The frat boys all but bark at her pictures, each hungry for something, shouting profainities about how much they want to fuck her. Itadori opens his mouth to say something, but Megumi clamps a hand over his shoulders and tells him to settle down. “Don’t worry, let them have their fun. It’s nothing serious.”

Normally Megumi would stop them, but he thinks they’re cute. They’re so cute thinking they even have a chance with Mai of all people. If there was something Megumi liked about Mai, it was that she had standards.

If she was going to be treated like shit, might as well be treated like shit wearing Louis Vuitton and Hermes.

He turns his attention to the next one on the list and his smile instantly drops the second he sees Maki at number 3. The T has a weird habit of pitting Maki and Mai against each other, and while Maki wouldn’t care about this shit, Mai does.

The Zenin’s had imprinted it that women must be in constant competition for affection because how much they are loved is how much they are valued. Maki thinks everything the Zenin says is bullshit, including that whole line about affection. Mai, however, is a different story. She has internalised that information so much that she spends so much time caring about her reputation to her detriment.

‘At the proud number three is our nationi8nal MMA champion, Maki Zenin! This week she defeated the previously undefeated title holder, Sena. I’m not usually into muscular women but goddamn does she look hot while beating in someone’s face with her fists. Step on me mommy-’

Uncomfortable with reading the rest of that sentence, Megumi quickly signs desperately with Yuuji laughing at him in the background. “Scroll up, scroll up.”

Luckily for him, Toge also seemed uncomfortable because the last thing he wants to see is someone thirsting over his best friend and scrolling away, landing on the number two name on the list.

‘And coming up to the number two is Zenin Megumi, the school’s resident mysterious hottie who happens to be recruiting new pledges for the Alpha Beta frat house.

How he divides his time between posing for the house of Gojo’s fashion line, shirtless and at the same time stays on top of his business class is some what a mystery, not that I’m complaining though cause FUCK HE’S HOT…’

Megumi groans in his hands as a picture of him posing shirtless with flared jeans, whilst manspreading comes on screen for the entire frat house to see.

The entire house grows quiet, before whispers of “is it okay to have a crush on our president- in a manly kind of way?” And “he looks so majestic, that’s our president! I need his gym routine-” start floating in the air, only making Megumi grow more annoyed, almost as if he’s not in the room with them.

Yuuji places a hand on his shoulder with a teasing smile, clearly enjoying watching Megumi suffer. “Don’t be shy. You should be proud of your-”

“Shut the fuck up and tell Toge to get that shit off the screen before I hear another person ask if it’s okay they get off to pictures of me.”

Amused, Yuuji turns to Toge, signing Megumi’s message to which he lets out a weird snort like laughter, before scrolling up to the moment everyone has been waiting for: The number one spot. He can hear some people drawing in a deep breath, waiting for the next person until the blurb flashes on the screen.

“At the number one spot; the stunning beauty of University that has gripped our hearts and our nether regions. Voted the sexiest girl on campus the second we saw her in the freshman group taking a tour, (Name) (Last name)-Nanami!

Dressed in a cute Juicy Couture that makes her ass look juusst right, (name) has taken the entire school and the socialite scene by storm.

By the way, happy belated eighteenth birthday princess. Now that you are legal, I can proudly say I and the majority of the guys in this school have jerked off to your birthday bikini pics with zero guilt. And also, thanks to you the juicy couture section in the mall not too far away and the goodwill a few blocks over is sold out. You’re an icon babe, keep being you.’

“FUCK YES IT’S HER AGAIN!”

“Please, please, please marry me (name), I’ll dump my girlfriend for you! Fuck I’ll set a car on fire for you-”

“I hope her nudes leak or something, that’s the only way I’ll see her naked because she’s way too good for me.”

Megumi doesn’t think too much of it, ignoring all the crazy things his fraternity brothers are saying. But someone else has an opposite opinion.

“Oh God, not her again.”

Megumi raises a brow, curious at Yuuji’s reaction. It was strange for the friendly man to sound so annoyed over someone, especially somebody so new to this school and seemingly beloved by the student body. Usually, he’s the one to have qualms about the person and Yuuji would have to talk him into being less suspicious about the person.

His friend had no malicious bone in his body. Or maybe there’s a side to Yuuji even he doesn’t know about.

“You don’t sound too happy.”

“No… that’s not what… you don’t know who she is, do you?” His pink haired friend only groans in response, increasingly getting more agitated for some reason. Megumi shakes his head negatively in response and Yuuji sighs. “Remember when my dad got married like last year? That’s my step-mom’s daughter … my step-sister.”

“Oh”

Back in December it was trending news that the owner of the best winery in the world, Nanami Kento was getting married to a deaf, single mother. The Zenin’s were pissed because Nanami chose ‘damaged goods’ over the barely legal teen they arranged so that they could partner with him. But since Megumi wasn’t interested in such a topic and he was just happy the elders were miserable that winter, he didn’t bother to look into it.

No wonder Yuuji looked more irritated with every passing moment. The pink haired boy always seemed to be concerned about his family members whenever the tabloids said something nasty about them and was fiercely protective of them. It could be why Yuuji doesn’t bring her around the fraternity house or barely mentions her, so that people won’t try to use him to get to her.

“She’s just eighteen Megs.” Yuuji’s grave tone rouses Megumi from his thoughts. Poor guy, it’s really bothering him, what’s going on with his sister. “It’s not been up to three months since she got here and the comments the T has made about her body are disgusting. She pretends like it doesn’t bother her but I’m sure that she hates it deep down.”

He can relate to Yuuji right now; back in high school he would overhear guys talking about how much they want to screw his sister.

Unlike Yuuji though, he wasn’t as patient.

“Don’t think too much about the T’s comments” Megumi reaches a comforting hand to Yuuji. Even though he’s sure the girl doesn’t give a damn about his friend, he has to ease the pink haired man’s nerves somehow. “Maybe she truly doesn’t think it’s too much of a big deal. She could be like that, you never know. Plus you know how the T is. They’re obsessed with the next hot thing and then they fall out of love with it.”

Besides, Megumi figures you’re just a shiny new thing that’s trending now. And the thing about trends is that when there’s nothing interesting or fantastic about them, they die out. ‘Yuuji has nothing to worry about’ he muses to himself. ‘You’re probably not that pretty to last long-’

The second Toge puts your picture on the screen, Megumi finds himself eating his words.

The admiration of your image by the other frat members becomes nothing but background noise as he stares at the t.v utterly transfixed. Your features were distinct in a way that could only be described as ethereal, breathtaking, exotic. You’re wearing cute juicy couture sweats, something he thinks looked utterly tacky and overdone by all the blond girls in this school and yet you make it look expensive, like you’re the only one he wants to see it on. Your lips are pulled into a pretty smile that lights up your eyes, only highlighting your best features like your cheeks and your nose.

He’s not one for looks, but by god you were one of the most gorgeous girls he’s ever set his eyes on.

“No wonder you keep hiding her from us.” Toge signs, also nearly astonished by how beautiful you look. “Your sister is fucking hot man.”

“Not you too, Toge, she’s barely eighteen, leave her alone-”

Megumi ignores the argument going on behind him, opting to keep looking at your picture. As much as he’s captivated by your beauty, there’s this nagging feeling at the back of his mind that there’s something familiar about you. He can’t shake off the coincidence that you have the same first and last name as someone he used to know and you look like the prettier version of that person.

‘It can’t be her.’ He denies it in his head. The girl that he knew all those years ago would never have been able to afford this university’s tuition without incurring a huge debt. She’d care too much about hurting her single mom’s finances. He keeps staring at the picture and notices you’re holding up your boba drink in one hand, revealing the bracelets on your wrist, which he didn’t pay attention to at first, until something purple and pink catches his eye.

‘That looks really cheap for her to be wearing- wait.’

He squints his eyes a little bit and sees the four letters written on the bracelet “GUMI” boldy.

His mouth groes dry instantly.

‘No fucking way.’

There was a distant past where he was much more free to do whatever he wanted and he didn’t have to worry about the responsibility of taking over the Zenin’s chain of businesses. There were many faceless people in that high school. There were people he brutally beat senseless and there were people who either feared or admired him from afar.

But you were the most memorable because you were a clingy little bitch.

While others avoided him like a plague, you were always beside him, offering to be his “friend” and following him around like fucking insect. You were a pimple-faced, annoying little tramp that he could barely stand.

He could have avoided your affection if he didn’t beat up your bullies that day. He should have never pitied you when he saw you crying in the boys bathroom. It would have saved him the headache of being stuck with you for almost two years in high school.

The only reason he tolerated you for as long as he did was because of Tsumiki. In hindsight, he blames his deceased sister for encouraging your borderline obsession with him because she thought it was cute. He wonders if romantically and mentally you’ve changed. If you’ve grown out of your childish crush on him and forgotten all about your “Gumi” and “Fushiguro-kun”, the things you used to call him with your shrill voice.

When he left that dreaded Academy, he made sure that no one called him “Gumi” ever. He resented that nickname, because it reminded him of you.

You looked happy, fitting right into a society that once rejected you with your pretty hair and manicured nails. Long gone was the wimp that hid behind him, that had to rely on food stamps on your worst days; now you’re a spoiled little brat, having the time of your life without inheriting the responsibility of being a wealthy socialite like he did.

It just made Megumi hate you even more. While he’s stuck with the Zenin clan and paying the price of wealth, you don’t have to do anything. You’re happy. How the hell is any of that fair to him?

Why do you get to be happy?

“You’re staring a bit too hard at the picture, Zenin. Don’t tell me you wanna fuck her too?”

He considers telling the pink haired man that he knew you and all about your pathetic crush on him for a brief moment, but quickly discarded that plan. Like Tsumiki, Yuuji would get the wrong idea and try to get them together.

Instead he rolled his eyes and said in the most bland voice he could muster.

“Not my type.”

Yuuji looks at the tips of Megumi’s ears, noticing them turn red  before looking at the boy again with narrowed eyes.

“Sure.”

  YOU hated dinners with your ‘family’.

Your step-dad, Nanami Kento was not much of a conversationalist and he ate in silence, except to ask to pass the water jug. Your mother was a try-hard, always asking how school is like for both you and Yuuji, like you’re teenagers attending high school and not university students. Yuuji was also a try hard, answering your mother’s questions like his life depended on it.

And you? You don’t want to be here.

You love your mother and would do anything for her. She sacrificed so much for you so that you’d have an education, working so many jobs and encouraging you. Sure, she was a bit harsh on you when it came to your academics and you used to hate it, but you understood back then that she was giving you a chance she never had. With your father a deadbeat and your family members a bunch of self-righteous losers, it was you and her against the world.

But trying to play house with a step-father you barely knew and a brother who would never speak to you on school grounds was tethering on the edge of your patience that you feel lucky that you only have to do this once a week.

Couple that with the stressful day you had in university from dealing with Mai, to the disgusting and perverted comment section on your trending tuesdays posts -that Mai told you to “get used to it” when you said you hated them and wanted it to stop, to nearly being late in submitting an assignment only to be told “looks can only get you so far” as if you’re not trying your hardest in school, you’re just about done with everything.

All you want to do is eat and sleep in your own bed.

The only good thing about your dinner is the unripe plantain, your favourite meal and you’re shocked the chefs made it after debating with your mother about making ethnic foods for her. Maybe your step-father had some choice words with them.

“So how’s school been for you baby girl?”

You internally groan at your mother’s question as your step-father and Yuuji turn their attention towards you. “It’s okay.” you sign back, before continuing with your food, hoping that your mother would get the message that you don’t want to talk about it.

As your luck could have it, your mother did not like the reply. “What do you mean, Okay?” she signs, her brows pinched together in irritation. “That’s not an answer (name).”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh come on baby (name), you’re in college, you should be having fun. I heard from some sources you’re very popular in your school which means you’ve got to have friends right? Why don’t you invite them over? Hell, you should have also met someone cute too that piques your interest or are you still pining over Gumi-”

There’s a tense atmosphere that cuts across the once awkward sphere of the table. Your step father stopped eating the second he saw the enraged look on your face, and his hands facing your mother trying to tell her to “stop-” only for her to aggressively shake her head in dismal, her next words pushing you over the edge. “No, Kento! She’s our child and I have to ask her what she’s been up to-”

“You really want to know what I’ve been up to, mom?” You start to sign, your hands trembling in anger. “You want to know how I’m doing in my business course where no one takes me seriously because I’m too pretty to be smart? Or you want to know how many ‘cute guys’ have threatened to assault me sexually or said something perverted about my body on a school post and how the school refused to take it down when I reported it? Or how I feel so out of place when you seem so well-adjusted with your husband and son, and your only solution is to throw a new black card at me and hope I’m obedient? You really want to know?”

The entire dining table grows silent at your outburst by the time you’re done, heavily breathing as tears threaten to prickle your eyes. Your mother’s features soften, clearly affected by your words and for a second you feel guilty for getting angry at her. Instead, you said out loud whilst tossing your cutlery aside “I’m going to my room. Don’t bother me.” and disappeared up the stairs despite your step father calling out your name until you made it to your room.

Flopping onto your canopy bed the second you enter your room, you’re quick to bury your head in your pillow and let out a guttural scream that you’ve been holding all day. At this point, you don’t care that you’re being rude, your life took a drastic turn the second you turned seventeen and you’ve just been pretending to be okay with it. After years of it just being you and her, these two men barged into your life. You had to up and move from the friends you had finally managed to make, from all your plans to attend a community college for music to an expensive overpriced university in a business course that you hate and from your home that had all your memories into a large mansion that makes you feel insignificant.

You were quickly shuffled into a lifestyle that made you stand out because you weren’t born into money. You had to mingle with people who reminded you of your bullies in high school and laugh with them like you’re not a step from having a mental breakdown, because you need to be significant, you need to network and fit in. You had to pretend you were fine because if you act out the media will drag your mother’s name in the mud.

And you’re all alone dealing with your feelings. Who were you going to tell how inauthentic you felt? How so out of place you felt despite your popularity and you just want to escape it all?

Mai would just tease you for being overdramatic. Momo would tell you that it is what it is as a female socialite and you should swallow it. Maybe Miwa might be sympathetic to your cause but then you remembered she’s supposed to be editing her posts for tiktok tomorrow, so there is no time for you.

There was only one person who would have truly understood and you haven’t seen him in five years.

Feeling nostalgic, you lean over your bed and retrieve a box from underneath. Carefully punching in the code, it opens with a quiet click revealing an old cream sweater kept in good condition, your high school’s logo stitched at the top, three pictures you got at a fair and your old iphone 4 that seems to still work, that all seem so reminiscent of a time so far away yet so close.

Long before you were the IT girl, before you were new money, the girl everyone wants and wants to be.

It was a time when things were so dark that you couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel because you were relentlessly bullied for not being fortunate enough to have money in a school where the rich eat the vulnerable. You had considered ending it all, to stop your mom from constantly coming to school to complain only to return feeling more powerless than ever.

And then he came into your life.

You take the sweater in your arms, gently pressing your nose against the fabric to inhale his scent, preserving it all these years just for comfort. It takes you back to when you were 13, huddled up in a bathroom stall while cradling your broken fingers. You hated life so much back then and you really wanted to die to the point you were googling how many acetamin pills it would take to kill you with your uninjured hand, the bottle containing them just a few feet away from your shaking body. You couldn’t play the harp that you loved because of them, you couldn’t take the emotional abuse and you couldn’t return home to break your mother’s heart by being a pathetic child.

You were planning to die in a boys bathroom stall, ready to swallow the pill when the door flew open. You instantly cowered in fear, spilling the entire bottle on the floor, your heart dropping to your stomach the second you set eyes on the school’s resident bully.

Fushiguro Megumi.

Back then you assumed he was going to laugh at you and then tell everyone what you tried to do. As much as you admired him from afar, you didn’t trust him. You couldn’t trust him. Maybe he was going to kick you aside and take a piss like one other guy had done when you were still barely conscious from earlier.

You didn’t expect him to notice your broken fingers. Or even ask you who did the bullying. And when he did, you had begged him not to get the teacher involved, to which he said. “Who said I’m telling anyone?” before disappearing. You were scared, wondering if he’d call them back to finish the job.

Instead, he dragged the bullies -male and female back to the bathroom for you to watch him beat them up and broke the arm of the guy who crushed your fingers. After he was done, he had taken your unbroken hand in his larger ones to help you up, warmth spreading into your shaking fingers as he steadied you, telling you to step on them.

“W-why?”

“Revenge. Catharsis. Fun.” he had said, his tone rueful. You looked at him with pure fear as he guided you to one the bullies, the girl who started it all. “B-but what if I get in trouble? Or they come for me and hurt me again-”

“Don’t be a square. I’m giving you a chance for payback, so be a good girl and take it.”

“B-but-”

“Do it. I’ll take the blame.”

And true to his word, he did take the blame for both your actions and was suspended for a day. When he came back, you clung onto him like glue, fearful you’d get hurt by those same bullies, but eventually giving way into your heart as you fell head over heels for him. The way he smiled when you said the dumbest stuff. The way his voice sounded, especially when he called your name. The way his hand swallows yours because of how big they were, his comforting scent, everything about Megumi was calming, comforting.

Even your first kiss with him was gentle, sparks flying as he cupped your face in his larger hands.

He could be a bit harsh on you and sometimes, he could say some mean things, he always made it up with some sweet gesture like buying your favourite strawberry drink or spending time with you while you practised the harp.

You loved him so much. You still love him so much. You can’t look at any man the way you looked at him, and you’ve tried. Mai has tried shoving you into a relationship with many guys to try and spice up your reputation but you couldn’t let them even hold your hand, let alone kiss them.

They’re not him. They’ll never be him.

Megumi was not the light at the end of your tunnel, but he took your broken hands in his and let you dance through the thick of the dark times of your life when no one else thought you deserved happiness.

You shed off your juicy couture jacket and shrug on his large sweater, collapsing into your bed with your arms wrapped around yourself. Any time you were upset with anything, you would call him and he’d either listen to you through your sobs or come over to your little house and sneak in with your favourite snacks to watch a movie with you and hold you tight whenever you said you wanted a hug. You wish he hadn’t disappeared when he moved away, that he had at least left you with a number for you to call or text or anything instead of upping and leaving cold turkey.

Tears rolled down your face as you tried to picture him comforting you, over everything that had happened. “Want me to fuck them up?” He’d ask in between murmurs and when you’d shake your head no, he’d click his tongue. He always loved solving problems with violence. “I should, for the way they’re talking to you. You shouldn’t let people take advantage of you.”

‘I miss you Megumi. I miss you so much-’

A knock on your door interrupts your thoughts and you’re quick to wipe away your tears with the back of your hand. Not wanting any pity from whoever was at the door -most likely your mother- you put on your best resting bitch face before storming towards it before yanking it open.

Your frown only deepens when you see your step-father at the door. “Did she put you up to this?” Your voice was cold and from how his brows creased in response, you could see he was hurt.

He shakes his head negatively in response, about to say something when you cut him off again. “The dad thing is not going to work, just leave me be.”

You close the door in his face, albeit rudely and flopped on your bed, curling yourself up into a tight ball and sobbing quietly until you fall asleep.

YOUR step-father’s solution to you being upset is to throw money at your face and tell you to ‘do something nice for yourself’.

Mid-class you had received a cash-app alert attached with a message for you to ‘cheer up with this and tell Yuuji to take you shopping.’ and while it annoyed you to no end that he assumed money made you happy, he wasn’t exactly wrong.

You also suspect that he wants you to open up to Yuuji about your problems, as you both are closer in age; which is a dumb plan in hindsight because you know you’re not going to say shit to someone you barely interact with. Step-brother or not.

The second class dismissed you were out of the door, your Hermes bag slung over your arm. Perhaps your step-dad was right about retail therapy, you needed something to blow off steam with after the depressing night you had; being forced to relive your entire day and then cry yourself to sleep thinking about how much you miss Megumi so much.

What you need is to turn off your brain and buy new things that would make you happy, like new trinkets to add to your room.

Feeling giddy, you pick up your phone and go to the IT girls group chat, ready to invite them to your shopping spree since you didn’t want to go on your shopping spree all alone.

“I should text the girls to see if they’ll hang out with me-”

You paused, stopping yourself in your tracks. You’re trying to have fun, not be silently judged and have pictures taken of your spree and uploaded on the internet for weirdos to oogle.

“I need time alone, but not alone alone” you say to yourself. “Yuuji’s the better option, at least he’ll keep to himself if he sees I’m not in the mood to talk.”

With that decision finalised, you found Yuuji’s contact - Yuuji 🏀- and quickly shot him a text that you needed a ride to the mall right now, if he’s free.

“With that done, I’ll get myself strawberry yoghurt to go-”

Your phone dings just as you’re about to tuck it in your bag and you see it’s Yuuji who had replied faster than you anticipated.

Yuuji 🏀 - I’ll be free in an hr, my class will soon be over

Yuuji 🏀- wait in my room at the frat house, I’ll pick you up there.

You frowned. Why the hell will you wait at a fraternity house? For all you know, they’re nothing but nasty, filthy little perverts. Frat bros have a bad reputation, being gross pieces of shit who have no personal boundaries and get away with anything. Mai always told you that they’re a slippery slope and the chances of you meeting a decent one is as good as pigs flying.

You🧋- Heck no. What if something happens to me there?

Yuuji 🏀 - Look, I need to pick you up and drop you off by 3pm before my next class starts and I don’t wanna waste any time

Yuuji 🏀 - besides my friends are there and they know you’re coming. No one will hurt you.

You 🧋- Fine. I’ll be there waiting. Not a minute late or I’ll rip your jlaw posters apart

Abandoning your plan of getting strawberry yoghurt with a secret promise you’d get it later at the mall, you decided to make your way to the Alpha Beta Frat house, much to your chagrin.

  AFTER hitching a ride with the school’s shuttle system within five minutes, you find yourself standing in front of the famed Alpha-Beta house.

The four story building was imposing to say the least, but there wasn’t a challenge you’ve ever backed down from. You casually strolled through the path leading to the front door, grabbing the brass handle and slamming it as hard as possible on the door twice.

‘They ought to hear me that way.’

Sure enough, someone shuffled with the door a few seconds later and opened it, complaints on their lips as the gap widened.

“Who the fuck is knocking on the door like tha- oh-oh h-hey-”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his sudden change of behaviour. You could recognize him from one of your electives, psychology 101 with professor Getou. He usually makes a fool of himself there as he is doing right now, practically drooling all over himself on the front porch like a mangy mutt.

As much as you’d like to watch him pant like a dog and laugh at him later, you couldn’t stand staying outside any longer.

“Where’s Yuuji Itadori’s room?” You ask curtly.

“Uh… the l-last floor, the door on the far end of the left… o-or was it r-right...”

‘Fucking moron’ you curse internally, before putting on a fake, thankful smile on your face and pushed past the awestruck man to get into the house. “Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out, myself.”

The house was neat, surprisingly, compared to the horrific stories you used to hear from Mai about how filthy fraternity houses are, especially the Alpha beta house under Todo’s rule. As you gingerly walk up the stairs, you notice how not a speck of dust nor a single graffitti lies on the wall, like everything had been polished and cleaned constantly.

Yuuji had made an off comment about the new president being a clean freak and would beat anyone up for leaving as much as wrapping paper on the floor without picking it up. “It runs in the Zenin’s I guess.” He had signed on a particular dinner night. “The last Zenin leader had done the exact same thing.”

As much as you hate the Zenin men and have never heard anything good about them, you have to be grateful that this one was dedicated to keeping the damn house clean. Even the frat bros look well dressed in their polo and shorts, and didn’t reek like beer or weed - although you caught some of them looking at you like a piece of meat.

‘At least they don’t try to talk to me. Must be out of respect for Yuuji.’

Eventually you make it to the top floor with two hallways stretching out on either side. You contemplated going to the left for a few seconds, but ultimately headed towards the right, figuring that Yuuji’s room could be there and if it wasn’t, you would just go the other way. You stop at the door at the end of the room, assuming that it’s the right one and open it without knocking.

The first thing that hit you was the fresh scent of jasmines and apricot, two flavours that you would never expect to be mixed together, but worked so well. You took in the surroundings of the large room next, admiring the rather dark academic route it took in terms of design with the large brown curtains hanging over the windows, the low level lighting hanging above your head. The closet was large and the doors were made out tempered, coloured glass, a rather brave choice but it seemed to contribute to the overall look of the room.

Seeing a couch with a coffee table at a corner, you decided to set your bag aside there while you admired the rest of the properties. You never took him for someone who’d have such a good taste for details, especially in terms of decor but he seemed to have exceeded your expectations of him. Even the floor is made up of mahogany wood board as opposed to the rest of the marble floors in the house.

You walk up to the medium sized reading table, admiring the hanging shelves over it stacked with books. The table was as clean as the rest of the room, each knick-knack and stationery arranged accordingly. Your eyes caught sight of the trophy case standing next to the closet in its own case and you walked up to it, admiring the sheer size. It was to be expected, since he had been on the varsity of his school team and was really good at sports. You take up one hand and trace a line over the case, carefully looking at the achievements.

“1st place at the Wimbledon championship, Male singles”

‘Interesting, I didn’t know Yuuji played tennis. I thought he mostly focused on basketball and track and field in school- oh, oh no-’

The second you read the next line your heart dropped to your stomach.

“Zenin Megumi”

Fuck, you were the wrong room. You should have known, the level organisation of this room and the lack of Jennifer Lawrence posters on the wall was too suspicious.

“I need to get out of this room as fast as possible-”

“What the hell are you doing in my room?”

As if things couldn’t get any worse.

Your body grew rigid at the sound of a male voice right behind you, too scared to turn around, sweating bullets despite the air conditioning of the room at being caught red handed like a fucking creep in some random guys room.

‘Oh god, how am I going to explain myself that it was an accident and I was going to Yuuji’s room?’

“I’m very sure I asked you a question. What the fuck are you doing in my room?”

Wait. That voice.

They say when you spend time away from someone, you usually forget a lot of things, like their scent, the sound of their voice, and even the way they look. But not you. You remember that voice as clear as a day. You know that Megumi Fushiguro’s voice deepened rather early, you know that bored, dead tone from anywhere, even in your grave.

The dots began to connect in your head as you matched the name to his voice.

‘It can’t be…’ 

You turn around, heart thumping loudly in your chest as you turn to look at the man standing behind you, glossy eyes taking in the features. The dark spiky hair that always seemed difficult to maintain, the blue eyes staring down at you, the slope of his nose, his lips, even his imposing height - being far taller than all those years ago.

“Megumi?”

Tears of joy blind you to the way his jaw tenses and without thinking, you engulf him in a warm hug, pressing your teary face into his broad chest.

“Oh, I’m so glad to see you. I’ve looked for you everywhere.” You blab, not realising how rigid he stood, not returning your hug. You assumed it’s because he’s not an affectionate person, and you’ve never minded it. “I missed you so much. I asked everyone that knew you and you were just gone-”

“Hey, Megs, have you seen my sister? I told her to wait for me in my room but I think she came into yours- oh, am I interrupting something?”

All it took was Yuuji coming into the room for you to be dragged back into reality, because Megumi is quick to place two hands on your shoulders, his grip nearly vice-like and pried you off himself before roughly shoving you towards your step brother. You let out a pained gasp as Yuuji catches you in time.

“Megumi what the fuck is your issue?”

You cannot see his facial expression, but you can feel his steely, unwelcoming gaze burning holes at the back of your head, making your heart drop further. “You’d do the same thing too if a random stranger hugged you out of nowhere.”

“She is not a stranger, she’s my sister and you don’t get to manhandle her the way you do to your other girls. Even if she’s in the wrong.”

“Well tell your step-sister to get her bag off my couch and take her out of here before I come back.” he snapped back.

You can’t believe your ears. Sure, you look different from how you did five years prior but was it so bad he couldn’t recognize you? 

You’re brought out of your thoughts when the dark haired man walks past you both and without thinking you push Yuuji away, attempting to follow him. Your step-brother comes between you and the door, holding you by your forearms to prevent you from following Megumi.

“No, (name), stop. Just tell me what’s going on-” 

You stay mute, evading Yuuji’s grasp and dash out of the door, following after Megumi. His legs were longer than yours and you had to speed up, nearly tripping on the stairs as you followed him into the common room, Yuuji not too far off. You reached him, grasping his wrist in a desperate attempt to get his attention. He freezes for a second but soon his shock turns to anger as he swivels his head to look at you.

“What the hell do you want?” He barked.

You flinch, remembering how frightening he could be when he lost his temper but push down your fear to look up at him, your gaze soft as you try to remind him that it's you. “G-gumi it's me!” You stutter out, trembling as you jumble through your words. “(Name) (last name)... w-we went to school together, you can recognize m-me right?”

It only seems like you’re making things worse, because he’s looking at you like he wants to wrap his hands around your throat and kill you for touching him. He yanks his hand away from you, his lips curled up in a sneer. “Keep following me around and you won’t be recognizable for long.”

No, no, this isn’t right. Sure Megumi was so hostile but not like this to you. He would never, ever threaten to put his hands on you, not even as a joke. This isn’t the Megumi you know, this cannot be the person you idolised, that you loved all those years.

This stranger is wearing Megumi’s face, saying things that your Gumi would never EVER say.

He walked away and you followed him down the stairs into the living room, ignoring the surprised stares of other frat members, watching you call after him desperately, “ ‘Gumi, Gumi! Wait, it’s me! I-i still have the bracelet we made together-” not caring how crazy you looked now. You need to understand why the hell Megumi was treating you like he’s never met you before, there has to be an explanation.

He doesn’t turn around or pay attention to your incessant cries, maintaining his ignorance. “Get lost. I don’t know you.” he says casually, almost as if he seems amused you’re embarrassing yourself. “Yuuji, get your crazy sister away from me.”

You feel lost, heart dropping to your feet at his words. Being reduced to nothing but a mere stranger after years of pining for him. Shame crawls up to your skin as you feel the entire house look at you like you’ve truly lost your mind for chasing after Megumi, humbling you completely. Yuuji catches up to you, a hand wrapped around your arm, trying to tug you away gently, but you’re rooted to the spot, unable to move.

‘T-there’s no way.’ Your head spins, trying to figure out what you did to offend him. Where did it all go wrong? Wasn’t this supposed to be the both of you reuniting? Rekindling your relationship? Even if he just acknowledged knowing you, you would have been satisfied. So why was he acting this way? ‘Does he truly not remember me? Or… is he… trying to pretend I don’t exist?’

There’s only one way to figure it out. There is one name that Megumi would answer to, no matter what.

“You say you don’t remember me, but we both know that’s not true.” You push Yuuji off again and tell him to stay out of it, taking a step forward with your back straight. It takes everything in you to keep your composure, not wanting to cry in front of these men. “Even after all these years, I can still tell it’s you. Have I changed so much you can’t recognize me?”

“Can you stop this madness-”

“Look me in eye and tell me that you don’t remember me Fushiguro-kun!”

The entire house goes silent. You’re breathing hard as Megumi abruptly stops in his tracks, slowly turning around to look at you. Your mouth goes dry when you see a flicker of fury in those blue eyes, before he masks it with a cold gaze.

“You really can’t take a hint, can you (name)? Years of maturing and you’re still so stupid.”

The way his tone is so even, without any hint of emotion feels like an ice bucket of water has been thrown on you. 

“Is that all you have to say?” Your voice is trembling as you look at him incredulously. “After disappearing for five fucking years on me without a trace? All this time, I cried and waited for you! I thought something bad had happened to you-”

“How is that my problem?”  He scoffed, now folding his arms across his chest, staring down at you like you’re the dirt beneath his feet and you instantly shrink underneath his gaze. “Don’t tell me you’re still obsessed with me? For five years? That’s really pathetic.”

Pathetic? How is it pathetic to be in love with someone who was supposed to love you back? Were you really pathetic to keep him in your heart all these years? “I-i don’t understand, y-you asked me to be your girlfriend right before you left! Y-you said you liked me-”

“We were in high school. I was a horny teenager and you were there. I said something nice so that I could mess around with you.” He groaned, uncaring that his words were hurting you. That he was admitting to just seeing you as a means to an end. “Don’t tell me all these years you believed the shit I said about liking you?”

‘This can’t be right.’ Your eyes are wide with shock, unable to comprehend the madness coming out from his mouth. Each word that he uttered takes apart your fragile heart piece by piece until there is almost nothing left, your frustration and anger rising with the entire situation. ‘No, no- this isn’t Gumi. He-he’d never do this to m-me-’

“I-i kept the bracelet we both made, to carry u-us with each other-”

“You mean the one with your nickname you gave to me? I threw it away the second I left for a new school.” He looks down at your wrist, a wry smile forming on his lips as he chuckles darkly. “Seems like you still wear yours.”

Your face felt hot as all eyes fell on you, embarrassment flooding your features. Megumi had practically made it known that you were nothing to him and he didn’t even consider you once when he left, in front of all of his frat members, while you pined after him like a desperate girl.

Thinking back to high school, it made sense now that he never loved you. He was always cold to you until you begged him. He refused to be seen with you in public but would make out with you in hidden corners of the school, then go back to pretending he doesn’t know you in front of his friends.

For years you had this idealised version of your Gumi in your head but now you realised you chose to believe in your own delusions.

You kept his sweater, his pictures, his gifts in a special box and his memories in your heart. You cried over him until you got ill when he disappeared and you even tried to run away from home to find him. You refused to date guys Mai would push your way because you were waiting for him.

You gave away five years of your happiness crying over someone that hates you.

You watch through teary eyes as Megumi leans close enough to you until his breath tickles your ears, whispering in a harsh voice, just for you to hear.

“Did you really think I’d like you now because you’re dressed like a skank? Wear all the fancy clothes you want, you’ll always be an insecure whiny brat who looks for affection everywhere but won’t find it.”

“You’re lying.” You spit back. You want to hurt him back, to make him feel the same way he’s made you feel; angry, humiliated. “There are tons of guys who will be lining up to fuck me the second I give the green light.”

“Exactly. They’ll want to fuck you, but they’ll never ever date you.”

Any form of self-worth or self-confidence you might have built up, came crashing down the second he said those words. You’re left standing there as he stood upright again, frozen at the way his words managed to unearth the insecurities you’ve tried your best to hide. You look at Megumi with tears in your eyes, defiant before taking a deep breath and composing yourself, blinking away tears.

Five years ago, if he had said these things to you, you would have cried. But you’re not a kid and you’d be damned if you shed tears for him in front of all the Alpha Beta boys and looked more pathetic than you already were.

“Yuuji, pass me my bag.”

Your step-brother holds it out for you, and without looking, you snatched it out of his hand. At least, he’s not trying to act like a good brother and getting in between your fight with Megumi. Maybe he knows it would make the situation worse.

You look at Megumi again, your once adoring gaze turned to that of anger and sadness. By God, he had become more handsome than ever, but it seems the Zenin’s have rottened him to the core. You look at his eyes again and see that his eyes are dull, like there is no life in them; like he’s dealing with perpetual sadness. He was always depressed in high school and you considered using the fact he used to cut the pain away too often to hurt him, but ultimately decided against it.

You were not going down that road. You still loved him more than you wanted to hurt him, even if it felt pathetic to do so like he said.

“You’re right.” You begin, a sad smile forming on your lips. “I’m pathetic. But at least I’m not as miserable as you are. Have a nice life, Zenin.”

With that, you walk past him with your head held up high and leave the frat house with a forced smile, ignoring the way your legs felt like jelly. It’s not until you enter a shuttle towards the Kappa sorority house that the crushing weight of humiliation and betrayal wears you down that you burst into tears.

Bonus:

‘Fuck, (name), keep squeezing me like that, Shiittt’

Megumi knows he’s a piece of shit. Ever since he entered the Zenin household and shed his Fushiguro last name, he’s been hitting one low to another, seemingly unaware of where the rock bottom is. He knows he’s done abhorrent, corrupt things that normal people would scrunch their nose in disgust. The Zenin’s are never afraid to get their hands dirty and he had to learn that at an early age if he had any chance of surviving that household.

But this was a new low, even for him.

Sweat dripped down his forehead, hair sticking to his forehead, glistening down his muscular body. His hips give timed thrusts, angled just right to send pleasurable waves through his body, hitting the right spot for the girl under him. Each movement elicits a soft moan from Hana, muffled by the position she was in; face down on his king sized bed with his hand pressing her face against the pillow, her torso held up by his arm around it whilst his cock pistoned in and out of her poor abused pussy.

On a normal day, it fed his large ego if she was crying out his name for everyone to hear it. He secretly prided himself in ruining a girl, making her cry for him and then tossing her aside. And they always crawl back, eager to do whatever he wants and give in to his selfish needs, no matter how shitty he treats them.

But today, he didn’t want to hear Hana say his name. He wished it was you.

And by god he hated it. He hated you so much.

If there was anything about you that never changed, it’s how you saw through him. Right in high school, you always knew when he was upset, even when he didn't say anything or act out; those times you would sit in silence and push your favourite strawberry yoghurt in his hands to make him feel better. Even in the midst of him tearing you apart, you had the audacity to call him miserable.

And he knows you’re right, but hearing it come out from your mouth hurts him, opening up a part of him that he buried in his heart.

How dare you make him feel vulnerable?

He wishes it was you he had in this position, but instead of pushing your head down, he’d grab you by your neck and make the entire house hear you cry. He’d fuck you like a slut, make you cum all over his cock so hard multiple times, until you couldn’t think about it. He wishes it’s your cunt he was fucking like a mad man, that was squeezing him like this so deliciously as he angled it to your g-spot, hearing your sharp in take of breath, trying to stave your orgasm off.

There’s a burning sensation at the back of his mind that aches for your body. He wants to be the one you’re the most vulnerable with, so that he can throw it back in your face. He wants to take his misery out on you.

 “ ‘s too much, t’much- Gumi gonna cum-”

“Shut up” he snarled at her angrily. She called him that stupid name you always call him. No matter what he does, you keep haunting him everywhere he goes. “You’ll put me off if you talk. Just cum.”

And goodness, Hana has no self-worth as she cums hard, crying out his name over and over again. Megumi pretends it's your voice, that it’s you whining for him and it pushes him over the edge. He cums hard into the condom with a quiet groan, his body violently trembling as he rides his high, your face at the back of his mind until he’s spent.

He slowly removes his hand off her head and drags his cock out, letting her body fall limp onto his bed. He rolled over to face the ceiling in an attempt to catch his breath from having the best orgasm of his life.

Because he was thinking about you.

He knows it’s definitely not love. He doesn’t love anyone and he doesn’t care about anyone else beyond what he can gain. And he definitely enjoyed hurting you, making you cry. He enjoyed dragging you down to his level and he’s sure that’s not what someone who is in love does to the person they care about.

He is brought out of his thoughts when Hana rolls on her back, white hair splayed on his pillows, frowning like she’s dissatisfied with something he did.

Which is weird, he’s sure he made her cum.

Normally, he didn’t care and he would never ask, but today, he’s feeling a bit generous. "What’s up with you?” He asked. “You didn’t like it?”

There is a nervous pause, with her biting her lip anxiously, like she’s afraid of saying something that would offend him. It’s clear that whatever has been on her mind must be serious. Eventually, she takes a deep breath and starts talking.

“N-no, I liked today’s session, it’s just…” she mumbled, biting her lip nervously. Megumi raised a brow at her statement. “It’s just what? Spit it out.”

“You kept on calling me (name).”

‘Fuck.’

e-boys taglist: @officiallyjaehyuns @haikyuusboringassmanager @ilybbg @cockonoi @Rindou24689 @short-cxke @kokoch4n3l @GenAwi @reiners-milkbiddies @gh0stgirl333 @megumisdivinedogs @fushiqruo @kawaiikoalagarden @raven-nevra @ilovetwodmen @straightfromheaven @manchie55 @matchamilktea-05 @tenjikusstuff4 @Lovelyartistz @lik0 @iluv-ace @lovely-maryj @slvdsjjk @espresso1patronum @aegsland @madison777x

also available on wattpad under the name "Stupid Love"

[queers-gambit]

The Risk

part one: Match Made in Grey Haven

prompt: after your wedding, you and Elrond embark on your honeymoon touring Middle-earth. your company is attacked on the road by Orcs. help comes from an old friend.

pairing: Elrond x shy!female!wife!reader

fandom masterlist: The Rings of Power

word count: 7.1k+

note: internet researched Elven wedding customs, i don't want to hear it. keep the Elrond requests coming.

warnings: pre events of TROP, the "shyness" more so conveys as inexperience, romance, little bit of fluff, Gil-galad is a girl's girl, and Elven weddings! also cursing! violence! angst! character injury! Orcs! blood! literal hurt and comfort! emotions are hard! abrupt but happy ending, not edited, wonky brain went wonky, and intentionally misspelled words to indicate accent.

You spent a year and a half planning your wedding.

Due to your status amongst the Elves and their court, it was declared the event of the century and the High King himself demanded it be planned to the highest of exquisite detail. Granted, you and Elrond were content to marry in a quicker fashion, leaving it between family, but Gil-galad loved a good party and who were you to refuse your King?

So, you spent about 18 months (on and off) in Lindon, going over details and specifics with Gil-galad while Elrond did the King's actual work. You're positive Elrond was content to escape the wedding planning and honestly, you didn't mind as much as you feared you would because the King was opinionated, decently funny, and decisive. He spared no expense. He encouraged you to branch away from your usual humble taste. He wanted the whole of Elvendom to come together to celebrate. He wanted this occasion to be...his.

You had no objections.

You were honestly relieved someone else wanted to plan such an extraordinary event for you - but were beyond you ready to be married! Several times in the last several months, Elrond actually offered to elope - run away to the Gray Havens and marry before your beloved grandfather, Elrond's old master, Círdan - but the King was putting so much effort into your wedding, you didn't accept. It was nice, though, how mutually anxious Elrond appeared to be to marry you, too.

However, the past three moons, you've been absolutely inconsolable. Your wedding was only days away, Elrond had traveled to Eregion for "business" months ago, and Círdan had yet to arrive! You felt overwhelming panic consume your very being, becoming slightly more irritable as you couldn't help but feel (wrongfully) abandoned - should it not of been for your best mate, fellow Elleth, Bôril. She held your emotions in check, posed as buffer between you and emotional ruin, and was the voice of reason when your rationality vanished.

"What if something happened?" You worried during one of your late night, last minute sessions. "How would we know? What if - while traveling - something went awry?"

Gil-galad sighed gently, "Herald Elrond was sent with some of my most trusted warriors."

"Elrond is warrior enough by himself," Bôril smirked, "you worry for nothing - "

"I am supposed to get married in a matter of days and neither my grandfather nor my intended can be found. I think I have plenty to worry over!" Gil-galad and Bôril shared a knowing look while you wiped your face clear of frustrating fear. "I am not accustomed to not knowing. It's this unknown, the lack of answers that pushes me towards insanity."

"Well," Bôril smirked, her eyes casted towards the hall, "fear no longer, sweet friend, all your answers approach."

In confusion, you turned in the seat you had been slumped in, seeing Elrond and Círdan heading down the hall towards the room you were gathered in. With a gasp, you leapt from your chair and rushed into the causeway towards your dearest loved ones. "Thank the Valar! Elrond!" You gasped first, flinging yourself into his arms; which coiled around you tightly and lifted you, his face burying in your neck. "My love - where were you? What happened - why the delay?" Your voice cracked as your whispered, "You said you'd be only 6 weeks, you were gone twice that! I was so worried!"

"I'm so sorry for worrying you, my star," he whispered back; breath hot in your ear. "I'll explain it all," he promised, lowering you back to your feet to pull back only to instantly take your cheeks in his hands. "I'm sorry it took so long, but I promise, it was for a good reason," he told you softly, thumbs sweeping over the apples of your cheeks; then glancing over pointedly at your grandfather.

"And you!" You scolded playfully. "We expected you weeks ago! Yet you sent no word!"

"We were delayed," Círdan smirked, approaching you as Elrond released his hold; confirming they were together this time. "C'mere, sweet one," he chuckled, bringing you in for a tight embrace. After releasing, he gently tapped the button of your nose, "I am here now, ready to help where I can."

"Oh, please," you chuckled, taking a half-step closer to your betrothed, "there's nothing left to be done, our generous King has planned it all for us. I'm just relieved you are both safe."

Elrond smiled and wrapped his arm around your waist, bringing you in to place a sweet peck on your cheek. "Come," your fiancé encouraged, and when you reentered the planning chambers, you realized others had followed you in.

Evidently, Elrond had gone to Eregion on "business", yes, but it was personal. He had gifted you a ring to symbolize your engagement; modest, silver, simple, gorgeous, and so perfectly "Elrond" - but he wasn't satisfied with it, apparently. As per Elven customs, the engagement rings would be exchanged at the ceremony for wedding bands, and Elrond was determined to give you something extravagant - to prove his adoration. So, he went to Eregion and forged with the Greatest of the Elven Smiths, Lord Celebrimbor, a wedding ring he thought suitable for your finger. Círdan met them to aid in the creation of this gorgeous ring Elrond crafted - insisting you couldn't see it until the ceremony. The trio also crafted Elrond a matching wedding ring that would only accentuate yours; another show of his devotion to you.

Hence their collective delay. Lord Celebrimbor arrived with them, greeting you with mirth; truly excited and honored to have been involved with your wedding band creation.

You were just relieved everyone finally safe and gathered in Lindon. That night, you laid in bed with Elrond; deflated by relief, just staring at him, hand on his cheek, caressing his flesh. "Next time, send word if you're to be late," you requested in a whisper.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, "we were so focused, purely driven by creating something that you'll have forever - we lost track of so much time."

"How many rings did you make?"

"Too many. Though, Celebrimbor will have now options to gift others."

You both snickered, sighing with contentment. Then you whispered, "I fear I might owe a few people an apology..."

"Why? What happened?"

"I was... Operating on a short fuse while worried about you. Might've gotten a little snappy."

"You were rude?" He gasped comically. "I didn't know you even knew how to be."

"Hush," you breathed, leaning closer, "I was worried."

"But I'm here now," he promised, hand to your neck encouraging you to kiss him.

After that, the days passed in a breeze, as if a collective sigh of relief had been heaved by all of Lindon.

And then, the morning of your wedding finally arrived and it was like chaos struck. You never knew, but apparently, outside the chambers you used to prepare in, Gil-galad had everyone rushing around to perfect final details; prepare food, set tables, water and arrange flowers, retrieve whatever was requested by other guests. However, you were none the wiser (as he intended), being fretted over by all types of Elves who were impassioned to make you and your day as flawless as possible.

The High King ensured Elrond was taken care of, the young Herald quiet and seemingly concentrated on his thoughts; lips moving without words, repeating his vows to himself silently. Before it could've been questioned, Círdan arrived with a velveteen jewelry box; appearing ready for the day's events, as if awake for hours.

"Here," Círdan smiled, shooing away the attendants so he could sit beside Elrond, "this is for you, my boy."

"My Lord?" Elrond questioned softly, accepting the gift.

"It's customary."

"What is?" He wondered, opening the lid and revealing a gorgeous, glimmering broach. "Lord Círdan - "

"It's custom for the bride's mother to gift her new son-in-law a gem to be worn as a boastful show of the joining of two families," the craftsman explained. "This... This sapphire belonged to my daughter, and now, I'd like you to have it."

"I don't think I could accept - "

"It is customary," Gil-galad stepped in, seeing the refusal ready on Elrond's tongue.

So, Elrond swallowed his nerves and nodded to Círdan, "Thank you, my Lord. This stone is... Beyond words, surely, only it's previous owner could rival it's beauty."

The tears were bright in Círdan's eyes the rest of the day.

Due to the lack of conventional family, the ceremony was kept between only the High King Gil-galad as officiant and Círdan as witness. The King had designated a private overlook for your ceremony, standing at the cliffside under the golden glow of the Great Tree with Elrond in fine velvet tunics; gorgeous sapphire glittering on his chest, keeping his father's cloak in place as his own special tribute. Just as the sky turned heavenly, sun in position to set, Círdan began to lead you down the pathway - towards your forever.

Elrond choked on air, tears slowly filling his eyes.

You were draped in the finest of silks, a thin veil covering your face; hair in long ringlets, pinned back from your face in an elegant updo. It was like the Light of Valinor itself was shining through you, nearly blinding Elrond with sheer bliss. It was almost as if time slowed, nearly stilling completely; as if your form was moving in slow motion. Even under the sheer veil, Elrond could see your grin and suddenly, he couldn't hear, see, smell, feel anything but your love and light.

With a gentle sniffle, Elrond glanced at Gil-galad, who was beaming with pride already; his own growing, which nobody realized was even possible. Upon approach, Elrond instantly met you at the base of the stone stairs; watching Círdan give a watery smile while hugging you sweetly. He pulled back, gently lifted the veil to flip over your head, and sighed while caressing both cheeks.

In Sindarin, he whispered, "They'd be so proud of the woman you've become... And the man you're marrying. Just as I am."

Now, Elrond choked on his emotion.

"Thank you for everything," you managed to whisper, your grandfather sighing gently before guiding your hand from his into Elrond's. He joined Gil-galad on the platform, both watching proudly as Elrond was at a loss for words - only able to look you up and down.

Finally, he breathed in Sindarin, "Gorgeous."

Before the Elven High King and under your grandfather's loving eye, you and Elrond exchanged vows during sunset. It was intimate and private, either of you slipping your engagement rings off as Círdan presented your wedding bands. You gasped when you saw the ring Elrond crafted for the first time, looking at him with wide eyes, voice gentle as you asked, "You made this?"

"I did."

"For... Me?"

Elrond smiled, "Of course. A wife as beautiful as you deserves a ring that could only strive to embody your shine."

"Don't make me scold you for being so cheesy on our wedding day, my love, please," you giggled, Elrond chuckling while he took your hand to splay before him. He slid the ring onto your index finger, allowing you to do the same with his matching band. Neither of you were able to contain your glee when Gil-galad pronounced you officially as man and wife - Elrond all but lunging forward to hold your cheeks, swooping in to sear your lips with his kiss. You were just as excited, holding onto his biceps to keep him close; feeling warmth swell and burst in your chest as you realized... You were finally married.

After, at the feast Gil-galad had planned, the whole of Lindon was decorated and celebrating your union; hosts of food on long banquet tables, live bands entertaining the crowds, lanterns and candles glowing, conversation turning boisterous as Elves indulged on the castes of wine gifted or collected by the King.

Who, if you were wondering, was hosting the entire affair and having a splendid time as Bôril danced with Camnir - seemingly to Vorohil's chagrin, which Elrond pointed out to you first.

You were just happy to bask in your husband's glory; unable to believe he was yours, that you get to spend your life with him, that you were bound together. He seemed... Youthful in this setting; a young lad that was forced to grow up too quickly, finally able to appreciate the attention directed at him while gracefully accepting words of congratulations everywhere he turned. It was so simple, something decently mundane, but you found it impressive; the way Elrond could accept conversation from just anyone.

It simply intimidated you; content with your written letters and accounts, never truly needing to interact with people on this level. You were better, not quite as shy as before, but old habits die hard and overcoming social anxiety was a lifelong profession. Speaking of, your anxiety spiked from the sheer number of attendants, but Elrond was both sword and shield - intercepting people left and right, saving you from any "on the spot" moments.

The party went deep into the night, and while it was a fun time - complete with Bôril challenging the High King to a silly drinking game, Celebrimbor teaching the steps to an old dance, and Vorohil getting shot down by several Elleths - you were beyond exhausted. Perhaps you didn't hide it as well as you thought because Elrond slid into his empty seat and instantly leaned into your ear to ask, "All right, love?"

"Hmm? Yeah, 'course," you answered, setting the glass of First Age wine (a gift from Celebrimbor) aside to focus on him. Gently caressing his chin, you asked, "You all right?"

"Perfect, actually, just look at my wife," he mused, "though, you look tired, my star."

You hummed, "Can't fool you, can I?"

"It's my job now," he chuckled, letting you lean in gleefully to peck his lips. "How about we slip away? Hm?" He whispered softly, glancing around dramatically - like he was conducting a secret mission.

"Yes, please," you hissed, both snickering lightly. Like a couple of randy youths, you stood with the gifted First Age bottle, hands tangled together, 'sneaking' away to your rooms; thinking you were pulling it off, being so sneaky.

"Oh, bless their hearts, look. Look! I love those idiots," Bôril giggled to the King, "they're so obvious! Look at them go!"

"They're in loooove," Gil-galad teased, refilling his goblet.

"Guess they just can't wait to consummate their marriage, huh? Good for Elrond," Camnir snickered, freezing when Círdan's blank stare registered. "I-I'm so sorry, my Lord, I did not - I misspoke - I didn't think you, uh... I'm sorry."

Círdan just groaned lightly, his friend, Lord Celebrimbor, leaning over to top off his glass and encourage it closer to him; patting his shoulder in sympathy. Bôril and Gil-galad truly tried to hold back, but the scene was truly comical to witness and the two laughed so hard, they ended up leaning on each other and slumping in their chairs.

The party continued without you and Elrond, but it's safe to say, you were engaged in a party of your own.

"You've been quiet, love," you noted softly, one hand held tightly by Elrond's, the other holding your horse's reins; walking to give them a break on this leg of the journey. For weeks, you've been on the road together, touring Middle-earth as part of your honeymoon.

Never having been anywhere other than the Gray Havens and Lindon, you were like a new born fawn in the wilderness - but it was exhilarating to travel.

"Hmm?"

"You're pensive," you amended.

"I am simply in thought, my star, nothing of concern," Elrond assured.

"You're sullen."

"I don't mean to be," he sighed.

"What's troubling you?"

Elrond was quiet for a long moment, stepping carefully as neither of you noticed thick, dark clouds beginning to fill the sky. Finally, he admitted quietly, "We are not far from Khazad-dûm."

You hummed in understanding, then pondered while stepping around overgrown tree roots, "Remind me why we did not extend Prince Durin a wedding invitation?"

"We did," Elrond informed, sighing deeply, "he just... Did not respond..."

"That does not sound like him, based on your account."

"No, it was truly... Odd," Elrond admitted, "perhaps being why I feel strange being close to his kingdom now."

"Do you wish to visit?"

"We don't have the time - "

"We can make time, Elrond," you insisted, squeezing his hand with a grin. "And as far as anyone is concerned, the great Dwarven Kingdom of Khazad-dûm is part of Middle-earth, and therefor, part of our tour. I'd like to meet your friend, my sweet. Now, which direction?"

"We don't have time, starlight, we are expected by Lord - "

But Elrond came to a sudden halt, pulling you into his side as both your horses stamped and whinnied loudly; tossing their heads and snorting, the whites of the eyes flashing as ears flattened as they suddenly stopped in place. You flinched into your husband's side, the horses restless, guards circling around the pair of you quickly. Darkness descended.

"What is it?" You asked in concerned confusion.

"Something is amiss," Elrond rushed, looking confused and concentrated. "I-I do not know what, but the shadow has stretched. C'mere, mount up, my love, quickly, please."

"My Lord," Vorohil, one of your guards and a friend to your husband, directed his horse between yours while Elrond ensured you were safely seated, "there's a darkness to the path ahead, the horses - they are refusing to go forward. It grows darker, my Lord."

You had to reseat yourself as Elrond mounted; the horses backing away as there sounded a ghostly moan from the woods surrounding you.

"This darkness?" Elrond repeated, "Where did it come from? 'Tis midday - "

"Look around us!" Vorohil barked, Elrond sending him a sharp look before looking up - realizing there seemed to be a sort of dark cloud covering the sun, your path, and the woods surrounding you.

You gasped when there came a sudden, horrendous, guttural screech in an echo, making it impossible to locate the origin; and suddenly, a force bodied into your side. It knocked you from your horse, but due to the sudden nature of the attack, also took your beast down with you.

You were lucky your leg didn't shatter on impact.

You heard Elrond scream your name; body hitting the dirt and rolling a few feet before being halting by a boulder. Your sight cleared, evened out, gasping again and shoving yourself against the jagged rock in an attempt to create distance when you saw the horrid, gangly creature made of pure, tangible darkness - pure evil - muddy and growling while surging towards you with gnashing teeth.

A sword decapitated the creature before it could reach you, making you flinch at the show of violence. Your name was spoken in a rush, but you couldn't comprehend hearing words yet; staring at the dead creature, twitching from the severed nervous system at your feet - spewing black blood. Your eyes caught sight of it splattered up your skirt.

Boots hit the ground, a pair of hands caressing both your cheeks and making you gasp in panic. But Elrond's worried face was in front of yours, speaking soothingly in Sindarin, "Easy, easy, be calm, it's me, my love, it's just me. I'm so sorry, but we have to go - now, my love, please, get up for me, come with me - "

"My Lord!"

"Elrond!"

Elrond was forced to stand over you and use his bloody blade to defend you both; choking back tears as you realized this was an ambush by Orcs, creatures of pure hate; something Middle-earth thought extinct after not having been seen in an age. And you were defenseless.

"NO!" You gasped when a hand came around your throat, hoisting back into the boulder; holding you in place as two Orcs ravaged your body for anything of value they could've taken. When they tried taking your wedding ring, you fought back harder - struggling in their putrid arms, sobbing, trying to stave them off. "ELROND!" You begged, gagging when the hand around your throat constricted to close your airway.

"Just cut the bloody thing off!"

You whimpered when you were overpowered, hand flattened to the rock forcefully; fingers spread, the Orcs snarling as a dagger was brandished and stabbed directly into the boulder through your pointer finger.

"Y/N!" Vorohil was heard struggling, your cries muffled from the lack of air and tight hand. The gem-glittering belt you wore was yanked from your waist just as the Orc holding you hostage was ripped away, making the other react by stabbing your lung with his dagger between your ribs.

After Elrond killed the first Orc, he instantly engaged the second; only Vorohil catching sight of you freezing before slowly collapsing against the boulder and sliding down it. He noted the smear of blood you left on the rock before the blade protruding from your ribcage.

You were in shock. The pain was insurmountable, yet you felt nothing at the same time. Numb. Confused. Overwhelmed. Paralyzed.

The fighting lasted several long minutes after that, your dress now properly saturated as you knew enough survival skills to not pull the blade free of an injury; it acted as a plug to keep the blood from pouring OUT of your body. You were left on the ground, slumped, weakly holding your wound and feeling unable to react when an Orc leered closer to you.

Elrond's blade emerged from the Orc's chest and was yanked free, the body dropping to reveal your husband; bloodied, panting, caught off guard, but obviously fairing well enough. He was in the heat of the moment, battle turning his blood hot, eyes catching something glittering in the mud and only thinking how out of place it looked. When he blinked, Elrond realized it was your wedding ring - complete with your severed finger still in it.

Elrond snatched the digit from the mud, eyes raking over you, needing to do a double look when he realized the extent of your injuries. Your finger was lost but your ring was secured in your husband's belt.

"No," he whimpered, rushing forward and dropping his sword to take hold of your cheek; blood gently leaking from your nose at a slow but steady pace. "No, no, no, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, stay with me, stay awake for me," he begged, sniffling emotion as his other hand laid over yours around the dagger's handle, "just let me see, let me see the damage, my love, c'mon, I've got you. I need to see to help."

You were too weak to fight him anyways, letting his muddy hand pry yours away to reveal the weeping wound. His eyes widened, nodding as he assessed the situation; wanting to get you out of here, but the Orcs weren't yet vanquished.

In fact, Elrond was tackled off you by another Orc, crying out when the momentum yanked the dagger free. Ironic timing, perhaps, because an injured Orc was clawing at your legs; biting at your flesh; making you grit your teeth, pick up the dagger, and drive it into the Orc's eye. You were relieved when the creature stopped moving; adrenaline instantly draining and making you slump back once more.

You didn't notice when the Orcs were fully killed off until Elrond was propping you up again, sprayed in blood and mud, tears in his warm brown eyes. "No, my starlight, no, you have to stay awake, you must," he reminded, getting one arm around you, the other first laying to your openly bleeding wound, then shoving the dead Orc off your legs. Elrond cursed in Sindarin when he noted the bite marks, how dirty nails left deep streaks after clawing up your body. "Please, stay awake," he hissed, cradling you into his chest before calling out, "Vorohil!"

"My Lord!"

"We need to get her to a healer - where? Where?" He begged, sniffling as you were shifted into his arms and lifted; few surviving horses being wrangled in.

"I don't - I don't know - "

"You are the cartographer!" Elrond snapped, "Tell me where to take her, where are we closest - !?"

"My Lord," Vorohil sighed, "t-the closest civilization to these parts is-is Khazad-dûm - "

"Hurry!" He barked, situating you sideways on his horse before swiftly mounting; settling you into his chest with a secure hold. The others were left in the dirt as Elrond spurred his steed onward, knowing the way to the Great Dwarven Kingdom of Khazad-dûm.

Upon arriving at the gates, he was a frenzied mess. Elrond doesn't even remember the procession of events; he just knows his men showed up at his flank, he was holding your limp body, begging for aid, and someway, somehow, was then lead into the Kingdom's healing quarters.

"Elrond?" A voice questioned softly, a few nurses and healers checking over the remaining company as you were laid on a surgical table. "Is tha'... You?"

He looked over, eyes void, dead, still splattered in the blood and grime of his enemies. "Durin," Elrond whispered.

"What happened?" The Dwarf Prince asked carefully, taking a slow step forward.

"We... We were..." Elrond looked back at you, hating how many healers surrounded you, "We were attacked - just less than a league from here."

"I see. Who... Who attacked you?"

"A pack of Orcs," he whispered, stumbling back into a wall as his breathing turned ragged, "while we were on the road."

"She's not breathing!" It was announced, Elrond sliding to the floor as horror struck his face. Panic seized his heart, short circuited his brain.

"Elrond?" Durin worried, Disa rushing into the room after him. "Hey? Can yah hear me?" The ginger asked, hand to Elrond's shoulder. "Elrond? Elrond, can yah - "

"I need help! Hold here! She's bleeding!"

"I can't see the wound - cut the corset!"

" - the finger's been lost - "

"She's got bruising on her neck, help me save her windpipe!"

Elrond's breathing became erratic, knees pulling into his chest as his men stood firm in support. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, Durin asking his name again, then, "Who is she?"

"M-My wife - she's my wife, Durin, she's my wife - "

"Okay, okay, okay," Durin comforted, kneeling to the ground at Elrond's side; keeping themselves separate as Disa neared them slowly. Durin shot her a look, silently saying 'close enough', and she stopped - heart aching for the devastation on the Elf's face.

"What's this? An Elf!?" Another Dwarf was heard barking.

"We do not deny aid!" A different Healer Dwarf barked, quickly shedding your dress and revealing your wounds to the room; making a few avert their eyes and hiss as ebony poison had taken to the veins around the wound.

"Do what needs done!" Durin barked, "To save her life! Use any means necessary!"

"You heard your Prince!"

"C'mon," Disa encouraged the Elves, "we should let the Healers work, we do not want to get in their way."

"Is there... Somewhere we can wait, nearby?" Vorohil asked nervously, glancing at you, who was being fussed over as blood splattered onto the ground; wound raging, blood covering your side as they seemed to aggravate the wound in order to clean it of the infection. "What if they need us?" Vorohil whispered.

"We have somewhere close-by for yah's," Disa assured. "Durin?" She asked, "Perhaps Elrond would like t'wait with us?"

"We'll be along," he agreed, knowing Elrond was like a rock in that moment. Disa lead the others away, leaving Durin to sigh and take a seat beside Elrond; just watching the Healers at work. "So, uh, how long yeh been married?"

"We... We sent you, um, a, uh..."

"Oh, right, yeah, yeah, of course. So... Only a couple months, then?"

"Seems like no time at all."

Durin chuckled, "Nah, two months in? You's two are still in that blissful state."

"And when it ends?"

"Oh, yeh'll see, married life becomes all yah know." Durin sighed, hating himself but needing to ask, "What happened to her, Elrond?"

The Elf shook his head, the tears never ending; suffocating him. "The horses," he managed to choke out.

"What of 'em?"

Elrond gulped. "They picked up on it first - that's what I noticed. They didn't want to go down the path, then this sort of darkness came... It was quick... It happened so quick, Durin, I did not - I did not see nor hear them. We were unprepared."

"What else?" Durin was unusually soft.

Elrond shook his head, "I got her on her horse, something didn't feel right. I thought - I just thought to get her out of there, get to safety - you know?"

"Just in case?"

"Yes. But the darkness - it brought them, let them move in the daylight. They tackled her from her horse - I tried to get to her. I swear, Durin, I tried, but it was all so fast - I didn't even see her get hurt. I just found her like that, holding on. What kind of husband can't even defend his own wife? By the end... She was... She wasn't..."

Elrond melted into sobs, folding in on himself, Durin's frown deep and concerning. Despite his own feelings of malcontent towards his old friend, he reached out and let his arm wrap around Elrond's neck. This allowed the Elf to lean into the Dwarf's neck and absolutely lose his shit. Not like anyone heard him, though; the Healers all yelling over one another as they rushed around in an effort to pull the blackened poison from your body.

You don't remember much. Just pain.

Then you remember voices. They were all around you, yet hazy; like you were underwater.

You remember smells - like alcohol and disinfectant.

You remember warmth in your hand; a weight, a constant presence that you squeezed when you felt ready to open your eyes. The twilight had passed, you were awake, a soothing voice cooing and encouraging you back into reality. It was just hard to pull yourself out of the tarpit your mind was seemingly lost in.

Upon regaining consciousness, you were greeted by Elrond's tearful expression of relief. "My love," he spoke clearly, "can you hear me?" You nodded, trying to open your mouth, but he rushed, "No, no, do not - don't do that, don't try to talk. Save your strength, please. You're okay." You nodded again, watching his watery smile warble before dissolving into sobs. "I thought you wouldn't make it," he admitted through his emotional breakdown, hovering close to you if only to feel your warmth and be assured that blood still pumped freely through your body.

"I had reason to come back," you whispered, earning a stony look of reprimand before he sighed and leaned in to kiss your forehead.

"Here, I have something for you," Elrond sniffled, reaching for his belt, "and I cannot keep it any longer." Your brows furrowed when your husband retrieved a bright gem, quickly realizing it was your wedding ring. Elrond saw your confusion, lifting your hand to place the ring on your pointer finger - making you lift the other, finding it bandaged with only four fingers. Your head snapped towards Elrond, but he begged, "Please, just rest, my star, you've been through enough - "

"What happened?" You demanded in a gravely voice.

"Do not - "

"Tell me."

Elrond sighed and situated himself at your side, careful not to jostle your form. "Well, first... We are in the Dwarven Kingdom of Khazad-dûm." He descended into the tale of how you lost your ring and obtained further injury, then rushed to get help, being reunited with Prince Durin, and ending on how you've been asleep for 'too long'.

You croaked, "I'd like to thank our hosts..."

"That can wait until you've rested longer. You've been unconscious for days."

"Then I've rested enough."

"I almost lost you," Elrond growled, "you will not move, not until you are cleared to do so. And I have the best authority to ensure you follow the rules."

You chuckled, "Oh?"

Elrond went to answer, but frowned in a panic when you started coughing from the dry prickle in your mouth and throat; quickly fetching the cup of water from the side stand. "Easy, my star, here, carefully, carefully," he whispered, holding the back of your neck, helping you sit up only slightly as to not irritate your abdomen, and tip the cup to your mouth to fill it with cold, fresh water.

"How's our patient doin' today, Elrond?" A voice asked cheerfully, "I'm tellin' yah, I can feel it, she'll be awake in no time, real soon, and then you'll actually sleep - "

"You have not slept!?" You asked sharply, looking to Elrond and noting the contradiction to his flesh; how pale he appeared with dark circles under his eyes, cheeks sunken.

Yes, Elves didn't need sleep like humans or Dwarves, but still, they needed some - and it was evident Elrond had none.

The Dwarf gasped and whirled around to spy you awake and conscious on the stony bed they had layered with fluff, furs, and blankets for your comfort. She dropped the tray of nutrients to another table, looking like she wanted to rush you. "You're awake!" She squealed.

"Disa - "

"DURIN!" She bellowed, hiking up her skirts and rushing from the room, "SHE'S AWKAE! DURIN! DUUURIN!"

You couldn't help the laughter that burst forth, wincing when your side seared in pain - making you choke on air. Elrond muttered to himself in Sindarin, finding a wet cloth and approaching your injury, carefully lifting the thin sheet covering you and peeling the bandage off. You heard Elrond hiss between his teeth, you trying to glance at the mark - but your husband would not let you. "Just stay still, my love," he whispered, "this won't take long, but it might sting - "

You grunted and whimpered when Elrond began soaking your wound; the cold water feeling nice in the hot infection, but making you squirm from discomfort. "Elrond," you begged, hand slapping to his wrist, "please."

"I know, but it needs cleaned - it won't hurt forever, my love."

"Oi," the Dwarf, Disa, snapped as she reentered the room, "get away from there, Elrond, go, go, go, shoo, let me through."

"Disa - "

"No," She now scolded Elrond, pushing him to stand straight and take the cloth from him, "your only job is to be a husband, not Healer - that's my job. You stand over there, hold her hand, and - DURIN!" She suddenly shouted towards the door, where a ginger Dwarf revealed himself sheepishly.

"Oh," you breathed in interest, trying to sit up a little, "Prince Durin, what an honor - "

"Oh, no, no, you don't, lassie, you lay back - just lay back."

"Listen to Disa, starlight," Elrond worried, both their hands reaching out to try to gently encourage you back down.

"It's customary to greet royalty on your feet - "

"Not in yer state, dearie," Disa comforted softly, patting your shoulder; Elrond gently caressing the top of your head. "Just rest - Durin will come to you," She shot her husband a look, who slowly entered the room.

"I just - I want to thank you, Prince Durin," you stuttered, wincing as Disa started tending to your wound again. "For saving me - or saving us, so I hear."

"Ah," Durin cleared his throat, nodding with pursed lips, "'twas nothing, uh, my Lady, we just... Couldn't say no to the state of things."

"Still. Thank you," you breathed. "And for your friendship to Elrond, it's been - "

"Starlight," Elrond quietly discouraged you with a small head shake, looking just as uncomfortable as the ruddy-faced Dwarf.

"What? What's wrong?" You asked, but neither man could meet your eyes. So, you looked to Disa, "What did I say?"

"Oh, you said nothin', dearie; 's just two stubborn mules refusin' to speak of the boulder in the room," she tisked with a small smirk.

"Do you think this boulder has to do with your absence from our wedding? I must admit, I allowed myself to feel excited, thinking we'd finally meet; and was entirely saddened by your lack of attendance."

"I know, sweetling, me too," she assured with a sigh, "but their boulder is truly suffocatin' - prevents them from speakin'."

"Oh-hhhh," you hitched the word to exaggerate, both your husbands stunned into silence by the quickly casual conversation, "so, like most men?"

"Mhm," she hummed sassily. "Friends for decades, Durin even considers Elrond a brother - "

" - So does Elrond - "

" - And yet, the fools cannot bear t'speak few words t'mend the bond! Oh, it's absolutely pigheaded!"

"What exactly needs mending?" You pondered softly. "I thought..." You looked over to see Elrond's head bowed, both hands resting in your single one; looking ashamed. "Elrond?" You asked, squeezing his hand.

"It's nothin' of note anymore, my Lady," Durin stepped in, making your suspicion grow, "just... A little, uh..."

"Distance," Elrond supplied finally, lifting his head and nodding, "our tension stems from a matter of distance."

"Hm," you noted, turning to Disa - who was already offering you a tired, pointed look. "What do you know of this boulder?"

"Oh, aye, it's distance," she nodded, frowning, "some... 20 years of it? Or just about."

"Has it been only 20?" Elrond questioned softly, looking earnestly to his friend; who stiffly looked away, but you saw the cracks in the ginger's foundation.

"'Only'?" You repeated, Disa sending her husband a look. "Prince Durin, my Princess, you must forgive my husband - he can forget how... Long life is. 20 years is a mere blink to an Elf, but to the other races, Elrond, it's a lifetime."

"I did not mean to offend," Elrond told you.

"I know, love, but you speak to the wrong person - I am not the one who deserves to hear your apologies," you said, pointing at Durin with your wedding ring firmly in place.

Elrond agreed and turned to his friend, admitting, "I'm sorry for the offense I've caused. I did not realize so much time had passed." Durin scoffed, Disa growling his name. "Is there more I've done? I do not understand, I have missed my friend - "

"Missed!? Yah missed my weddin'!" Durin snarled in a shout, your head resting on the pillow under your head and deflating in pain as Disa worked to fix one of the stitches.

"You missed ours - "

"And the birth of my children! Two of 'em!" Durin tacked on. "You cannot barge into my mountain and demand I welcome you with open arms! You cannot claim that which you discarded! I did yah this favor because of the obvious threat to life, and I comforted you in the wake of yer wife's injury! I ignored my own woes and bygones because that was the decent thing t'do! I mean," he chuckled without humor, "even when yeh wrong me and refuse to even take ownership - accountability - for yer wrongdoings, I still comfort yah!"

"'Discarded'? 'Refuse to take'..." Elrond repeated, "Durin, I - "

"It's as yer wife said!" Durin growled, "20 years might be the blink of an eye to an Elf... But I've lived an entire life in that time!" Emotion caked Durin's tone. "A life you missed! So, yeah, yeh know what? We missed yer weddin', yeah... But you've missed the past 20 years..." There came an awkward sort of silence, the group stewing in their tension. The Dwarven Prince scoffed a couple times as Elrond processed his words, asking with attitude, "So what do yah have t'say to that... 'Friend'?"

You smirked gently as Elrond did not respond, instead slowly approaching his friend as if a skittish, injured deer. Slowly, in a fluid movement, Elrond laid his hand to Durin's shoulder, squeezing as he spoke with sincerity, "Congratulations." Disa laid her hand in your bandaged one, both smiling as she paused her cleaning session to watch and listen. "On your wife, your children," Elrond elaborated. He slowly retracted his hand, "And thank you for your help, the aid that saved my wife's life. Thank you for comforting me, too; I hope you can come to forgive me."

You cleared your throat, the two turning to find their wives watching them smugly. "I think you might owe someone else an apology, my love," you whispered.

"Disa - "

"Don't even," she beamed, "yer already forgiven."

"Ah, don't let him off easy," Durin grumbled.

"His wife almost died in front of him, I think that's reparation enough."

Durin paused for a long moment, then nodded, "Yeah, all right, fair enough."

"Now," Disa announced, standing, "I think the Lady's wound is as good as it'll get for now - it's up to you for the rest of the healing," she patted your shoulder.

"On the morrow, we shall - "

"Oh, no, you mistake me," Disa smirked to Elrond, "there's no leavin' yet. She's not ready - she can't sit on a horse, one awkward bump on the road and she'll pop a stitch, start bleeding, risk worse infection - "

"How long?" Elrond worried, magnetized to your side again with one hand in yours, the other caressing the top of your head to stroke your hair in calming motions.

"Just a few days, until the stitches come out," Disa assured. "Yeh'll stay with us!"

"No, they will not," Durin argued.

"They're staying."

"They're leaving."

"They're staying!" Disa scolded her husband, who huffed and shook his head before pacing in a circle. "Now, yeh wanna try t'move around a bit, love?"

"Please," you begged, "losing my mind just sittin' here."

"All right, just be careful - your legs took a beatin', too. Them buggers got you good with their teeth - easy, easy, there's a good girl." Once on your feet and both hands in Disa's, she distracted you from the pain by asking, "So, go on, lass, tell us 'bout yer weddin', hmm?"

You chuckled, stumbling a little into her arms before rightening yourself while answering, "Oh, it was lovely. 'M pretty sure my best friend hooked up with the High King, too."

"No!"

"I know! I knew the King wanted the party of the century, but there's other ways to achieve such status."

Durin snickered, thinking Elrond looked like he was going to have a stroke as Disa helped guide you around the room to earn your bearings. Behind you, Durin's hand held Elrond's shoulder to keep him in place; letting Disa assist you as the two men appreciated the obvious relationship blooming before them.

And years from now, when your daughter rescued the Ring Bearing Hobbit, Frodo Baggins, your husband would heal him; a direct result after nearly losing your life that caused him to study the art.

part one: Match Made in Grey Haven

requesting rules and masterlist

TROP masterlist

[corroded-hellfire]

I am humbly requesting Eddie wearing a shirt that says “nerds make the best lovers” and then proving it to bookworm!Reader.

Your request is my command. I hope I have done your idea justice!

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), oral f!receiving, slight choking, soft dom!eddie, public sex (kinda?)

Words: 2.2k

Eddie struts into your first period English class with Ms. O’Donell, late as usual, and she doesn’t even glance away from the chalkboard she’s scribbling vocabulary words on to acknowledge his tardiness. On instinct, you smile at your boyfriend as he makes his way to his seat near you, but as your eyes scan over his shirt, heat blooms in your cheeks.

“Nerds Make the Best Lovers” his t-shirt claims in bold, gothic-style red lettering on the black tee. Eddie gives you a brazen wink and by the sound of all the snickering coming from students around you, you know other people have read the clothing’s pronouncement as well. Mortified, you bury your face in your hands, only peeking out to see if O’Donnell caught a glimpse of her least favorite student’s shirt. Luckily, O’Donnell gave up reading whatever shit his t-shirts said after her twentieth time or so sending Eddie to the front office for dress code violations. 

Eddie plops down in the seat next to yours and he shoots you another wink as if you hadn’t seen the first one he gave you when he walked in. Refusing to encourage any of this behavior, you don’t look your boyfriend’s way once the entirety of the class.

Once the period ends, however, Eddie won’t let you get away from him that easily. He jogs down the hallway to catch up with you and drapes a heavy arm over your shoulders.

“Where’s the fire, baby?” he asks. “Where ya headed in such a hurry?”

You shake your head in non-response and keep walking down the hallway, not sparing him a glance. Eventually, you come to a section of hallway that’s mostly emptied of people and you turn to face him, your shoes squeaking against the white linoleum floor beneath you at the tenacity of your spin.

“What is with that shirt, Eddie? Are you trying to embarrass me?”

“Embarrass you?” Eddie asks, raising his eyebrows. “Baby, I’m just stating a fact. Nerds do make the best lovers. And I’m more than happy to give you a reminder…”

He trails a finger up your arm, and it sends a thrilling shiver down your spine. Any irritation or annoyance instantly melts away at his touch. Your resistance was already futile but Eddie putting his hands on you always seems to shut off any coherent part of your brain.

“A reminder, huh?” you coo, ensnared by his flirtations. 

“That’s right. I’ll show just how good this nerd can make you feel.” 

You decide to hell with it; there’s nothing particularly important going on today. Nothing that you couldn’t afford to miss, anyway. And even if there was? Eddie’s body pressed up against yours is worth a detention or a missed test.

“Should we head out to your van for this demonstration?” you ask. The number of times his old, beat down van has been out in the school parking lot, rocking back and forth from the two of you, is too high to count. Most of the times being while school is still in session.

“No, I’ve got somewhere better in mind.” Eddie tugs you by the wrist, leading you down the hall in the opposite direction. He comes to a halt in front of a familiar door and pulls you into the drama room. It’s abandoned and quiet as Eddie locks the door behind you. There’s some D&D paraphernalia scattered around the room, a few D20s that were left out on the table.

“Hmm, so the ultimate symbolism of your nerdiness, huh?” You tease as you sit yourself down on his throne at the head of the table. The seat is cold beneath you, but you refuse to let it show. 

Eddie stalks over to stand before you and rests a hand on either arm rest of the throne. He lowers his head to meet your gaze with his own challenging one.

“I suppose you think I’m going to kick you out,” he says, referring to the seat. “Not today, my lady. Today…” he lowers himself down to his knees. “Today you just sit back and enjoy my throne while I make you feel good.”

He makes quick work of yanking your jeans and panties off and tosses them somewhere behind him. A strong hand grips each of your calves and spreads your legs wide open, Eddie wasting no time before he’s licking a stripe up your folds.

“Oh, fuck,” you whine, fingers digging into the sturdy arm rests at your sides. 

Eddie smirks against your pussy as he begins to flick his tongue against your clit. He knows every one of your little tells and knows just the right speeds and pressures to apply to your bundle of nerves to get you just where he wants you to go.

Your fingers scramble to find purchase on the chair as pleasure floods your body, so Eddie laces one of his hands with yours to ground you. His mouth keeps working against your pussy and you do your best not to grind your hips up to meet his tongue. It’s so tempting but you know it will only draw out Eddie’s teasing in the long run. 

With his free hand, Eddie delicately trails one ringed finger around your entrance, going round and round, never breaching it though. The delicious whines spilling from your lips only encourage him on.

“Shit, you taste so good, baby. God, I love your pussy,” he murmurs from between your legs.

“Eddie,” you whimper desperately, eager for him to use his fingers already. Being a nerd might not necessarily make him the best lover, but being a guitar player does make for a magical experience when he fingers you.

“Mm?” he hums against your core.

“N-Need your f-fing—holy shit, yes.”

Eddie knew what you needed before you even said it. The two of you work so well together, both mind and body, that you’re like separate pieces of the same machine, headed towards the same goal.

Two thick fingers stretch you out, at your request, as Eddie raises his head slightly to suck on your clit. He curls his fingers up and gently brushes over the spot that he knows makes you see stars. Your own fingers tighten on the arms of the throne and your legs tense around Eddie’s head.

“Shit! Fuck, fuck, I’m coming!”

Eddie smirks against your clit as he helps you ride it out, with both his fingers and mouth. He loves watching you as you come down from your high; all out of breath and dewy from a thin layer of sweat. 

The loss of his fingers as he slips them out of you is quickly made okay as you watch him pop them in his mouth as you try and catch your breath. His cocky facial expressions would annoy you if you weren’t feeling so amazing from his damn mouth.

Once he’s licked you from his fingers, he reaches down and fumbles with the handcuff buckle on his belt.

“Made you feel so good and didn’t even take my cock out yet.”

“Wipe that…smirk off your face.” You try to sound assertive, but it falls flat in your blissed out state.

Eddie chuckles and leans in, wrapping one hand around your throat; not tight enough to restrict air, just enough for you to feel the pressure.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to be making demands here, sweetheart,” he whispers in your ear. “Pretty sure you’d let me do whatever the hell I want to you right now, won’t you?” Both of you know the answer to that, but when you don’t give a verbal response, Eddie tightens his grip on your throat just slightly. “I said, won’t you?” he growls.

“Y-Yes,” you squeak out.

The sound pleases Eddie, and he smiles deviously as he releases your throat. He presses a sweet kiss to your cheek that’s a stark contrast to how he was just handling you.

“That’s what I thought,” he says, smugness clear in his tone.

He grabs your hands and yanks you up out of the throne. An involuntary yelp passes through your lips as he spins the two of you around and backs you up until your bare thighs bump into the table.

“Shirt off. Bra too,” Eddie orders.

You do as he says, Eddie’s eyes taking you in like the prey that you are to him with every move that you make.

Once you’re completely naked, Eddie presses his index finger right in the middle of your chest and gives just enough force for you to get the hint that he wants you to lie back.

The moment you get your ass on the table, large strong hands grab behind your knees and pull you towards the edge, so your back falls flat against the surface and your legs are able to wrap around your boyfriend’s lithe body. He pushes down his black jeans and boxers enough to line himself up with your entrance. But he doesn’t push in just yet.

“Say my fucking name, sweetheart,” he says as he leans over you.

“E-Eddie.”

“Louder. I want anyone walking by to know who’s in here making you feel so good.”

“Eddie!”

The man’s grip tightens on your legs and his cock just barely slips into you.

“I said louder. Are you going to be a good girl and listen to me or what?”

“Fuck, Eddie!”

He smirks in triumph at the way you scream his name.

“That’s my girl.”

He finally pushes inside of you, agonizingly slowly, his body towering over yours as he thrusts. Each time, he goes a little deeper, his eyes boring right into yours as he moves his hips. 

Your jaw drops open and small gasps escape your lips. You’re not sure what’s hotter: how Eddie’s pounding into you or how he’s staring into your eyes, not once breaking contact. 

Eddie groans as he finally bottoms out.

“Jesus Christ,” he swears. “Your pussy’s so fucking tight.”

No words whatsoever fill your mind as you lose yourself in the feeling of Eddie inside your walls. Your boyfriend notices this as well and another arrogant smirk grows on his lips while he stares down at you.

“Aw, already cock drunk, princess? Not a thought in that pretty little head of yours?”

You want so badly to refute it, but you don’t have the words to do so–only further proving his point.

The cool table feels nice against your back as your skin becomes sticky with sweat. Your hands slide from Eddie’s arms and your fingers grip the edge of the table.

Eddie notices the movement and doesn’t want you holding on to anything that isn’t him, though. His hands slide up your body and he grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head.

“Eddie,” you whine.

“Oh, she can speak,” Eddie coos.

“Eddie.”

“What is it, my love?”

“C-Close.”

Eddie holds both of your wrists in one hand while the other one snakes down and presses his thumb against your clit.

“Come on, baby,” Eddie goads. “Be my good girl and cum for me.”

“W-Want you to…with me,” you pant out between labored breaths. 

“Don’t worry,” Eddie says with a wry chuckle. “I’m right there with you.”

Eddie might be a complete menace sometimes, knowing exactly how to drive you crazy, but you know him just as well and know how to bring him to the brink. 

“I-Inside,” you pant. “Need you to cum inside me.”

“Jesus,” Eddie groans, squeezing his eyes closed and clenching his teeth as he tries to hold back.

“Please,” you beg.

“Well,” Eddie huffs with a laugh, “since you asked so nicely. Come on, princess. Let go.”

The twitch of Eddie inside of you and the feeling of him filling you up has you arching your back as sparks fly behind your eyelids and ecstasy radiates up your body.

“Eddie, yes.”

“Louder,” Eddie manages as he fucks his load into you.

“Eddie!”

The blissed out feeling from his orgasm and your shouting of his name puts a big, dopey grin on Eddie’s face.

“Shit, princess,” he says with a chuckle as he buries his head in your neck. You giggle as he presses kisses and nips at the skin there.

Eddie doesn’t make a move to get off of you, which you don’t mind one bit. You tangle your fingers in his frizzy locks and press kisses to the side of his head.

“So?” he eventually mumbles against your skin.

“So what?”

Eddie picks his head up and looks at you.

“Do nerds make the best lovers or what?” he asks, eyebrows waggling.

You can’t help but laugh as you nod your head in affirmation.

“Yes, Eddie. You have proven it to me.”

“Mmm, good,” he hums before he goes back to kissing your neck.

“What’re you doing?” you ask as the kisses become more and more intense.

He pulls back to look at you again.

“You really think the best lover is only going for one round?” He scoffs and goes back to kissing your neck.

“Thank God for nerds,” you mumble as your eyes slip closed.

[rhysazriel]

Feel My Touch [Azriel]

SUMMARY: After Azriel left you high and dry one night, he’s left with the task of coaxing you out of your subspace. (4.2k)

WARNINGS: kissing, teasing, swearing, smut, dirty talk, dom/sub relationship, unprotected sex, very brief mentions of daddy kink 

A/N: in my humble opinion, Azriel and subspace should always go hand in hand together, he is a dom!!

You’d been feeling a little soft the past couple of days. Azriel had been busy most days with gathering information against the mortal queens, leaving you to your own devices until the sun allowed the moon to shine and he loved on you a little. 

You’d been patient, to say the least, and last night he took his frustrations from the day out on you and offered no aftercare to follow.

It was something he’d done (or rather, hadn’t) a few times, but only when he had a bad day or he needed to teach you a lesson – when you’d been a bad girl. Well, you’d been a very good girl so you were awfully confused last night when Azriel fell asleep moments after slipping out of you; not offering any love or care that he usually showered you with after.

You were unable to sleep – too caught in your own head trying to figure out what you did to upset him. Did you forget to do something? Did you say something you wasn’t supposed to? You didn’t know. What you did know was that Azriel very rarely used his real dominant side unless you were in big trouble or he’d had a real bad day.

That strict rule he’d set on himself meant you’d only been in subspace once or twice before and it’d always been something to massively worry Azriel. He was used to seeing his love be this independent, badass female that didn’t let people boss you around. Not watching you mope after him with teary doe eyes and a permanent pout in your bottom lip.

But when you have one of those nights where he is ruthless and mean and doesn’t follow through with any aftercare, you’re left to coil into yourself and drown in this dark hole of submission where you feel like a tiny person that needs constant reassurance and love.  

You’d always been affectionate; you both were–Azriel more so secretly–but when you were in that turmoil state, it was worse. You’d seem like a child that leeched onto his limbs and wanted to sit in his lap while sucking on his fingers as he read a book. You never truly realised you did those things in your sub head because you seemed to disassociate from yourself and into a childlike mindframe.

The first time it happened, Azriel made the situation worse. He thought that by showering you with affection and love, he’d be able to coax you out of it. Unfortunately, it shoved you deeper into your dark hole and took almost three days to get you back to your normal state and frame of mind.

The second time it happened, he tried another approach. He was harsh and mean and demanded that you snapped out of it. It only made you coil into yourself more and for hours, all you could say was, “I’m sorry, Az. I’m sorry I was bad, please don’t hate me!” to which, Azriel’s heart broke and he coaxed you out of it again with a little more love and affection.

Maybe that was why he didn't like to delve too far into the kink very often. He much preferred you as your vibrant and independent self and if he was honest, seeing you in such a subby and insecure state had bile rising up his throat. He hated knowing that he rendered you to a helpless state outside of the bedroom. 

He’d had a long week and he knew he probably should have coddled you to his chest last night and reminded you he loved you, but he was fucking spent and when he awoke this morning to go back out again, you were still fast asleep and he didn’t want to wake you.

He hoped to come home to you lounging on the sofa with some snacks or wine waiting for him. But when he rolled home at 7:30 and kicked his shoes off at the door, he was greeted with the complete opposite. There was no warm scent of cookies wafting through the house and the sofa was bare with the cushions placed neatly; like you hadn’t sat down in hours.

Azriel made his way closer into the house with furrowed brows and a twitching nose. He could very clearly smell garlic and a cheesy hint of tomato sauces and meatballs. When he crept into the kitchen, he found you dishing up two plates of your homemade spaghetti and meatballs and popping little garlic dough balls into a side dish.

Your dining table was decorated with wax candles and two tall glasses of wine, the good cutlery put out by their placemats and Azriel was certain he could also smell a hint of caramel chocolate that you’d no doubt baked a cake from. 

His brows were still furrowed as your back stayed turned to him. Your hair was thrown in a messy nest atop your head and you were in nothing but a pair of tube socks and one of his dress shirts.

“What’s all this?” he coughed out to clear his throat and catch your attention. You had both plates in your hands as you spun around with slightly widened eyes and a big, toothy smile. 

“You’re home!” You squeaked, placing the dishes of piping food on the placemats. You reached for him on your tiptoes, pressing a longing kiss to his chapped lips and he kissed back but didn’t let his eyes close like yours did.

“I am, what’s the occasion?” he asked again, hands on your hips as you wrapped your little arms around his broad shoulders. 

His dress shirt rode up your body as you stretched and he could feel the delicate skin of your hips and soft material of your cotton underwear beneath his palm.

You seemed to blush at the question, avoiding making eye contact with him but Azriel tried to chase your line of vision to force it upon you. You tried to shimmy out of his grip but Azriel wouldn’t  have any of it. He gently pinched your jaw with a bent pointer finger beneath your chin and a thumb hovering across your bottom lip.

His head dipped to get a better look at you. There was a barely familiar look in your eyes and it was only when Azriel really looked that he noticed the perk pout in your lips. He should’ve known the second he saw you that something wasn’t right. 

You never pranced around the house in his shirt unless you were sick or  having a lounge day – neither of which were currently happening.

His shadows finally allowed themselves to circle your chest and up to your neck, a few straying to your arms before they returned back to their master. 

You were in subspace.

Azriel let out a soft sigh and closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of his wings droop on his back. He knew this was his fault, that he basically shoved you down into that little mindset last night when he left you to sort yourself out and didn’t kiss you goodnight. He knew you were  feeling needy and just wanted to please him.

“Baby…” he cooed, both hands cupping the sides of your face and your plump lips squished slightly between his hold. 

“I don’t want you to be mad at me anymore,” you murmured in a slight whine, like the words were stuck in your throat and you were too scared to mutter them out.

Azriel leaned down and kissed softly at your mouth, nudging the tip of his nose against your own. Brushing stray chunks of hair from your face, he pulled back just enough to allow you to look at him. 

“I’m not mad at you, my love. I never was,” he told you in a gentle tone. His words were spoken in a soft drawl – slower than usual to stress how much you needed to listen to him.

You let out a pathetic whine and tears started to pool in your eyes. You wanted to argue that he was, that surely you’d done something to upset him for him to act the way he had. 

Azriel seemed to know what was running through your head. Like you were too worried to speak in case you angered him further or he punished you. 

Punished you outside of the bedroom. Something he’d never done and never would. 

“But I made you dinner to apologise. I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to make you mad,” you pouted in a frantic state, like you were desperate to show that whatever you did to warrant the cold shoulder after sex last night, you didn’t mean it and you were sorry.

Azriel shook his head and kissed you again. “You didn’t make me mad, angel. You never make me mad,” he mumbled against your lips. 

The look in your eyes suggested you didn’t believe him. That perhaps you were telling yourself that his gentle tone was a trap. That he’d shower you with affection before neglecting you again, right when you believe he wouldn’t. 

“I was mean last night. I didn't take care of you after, did I?” he tried to encourage you to agree, to get you to nod your head but you stayed silent.

“It’s okay, my love. I’m not mad at you, could never be mad at you, baby,” he shushed you. Azriel released his hold on your cheeks and coddled you into his warm chest, pressing comforting kisses to the top of your head as your arms wrapped around his middle.

You didn’t seem to believe him, worried that maybe he was just saying that to coax you to warm back up to him before he punished you. Maybe as soon as you start smiling he’d throw you over his knees and give you a spanking. You were unsure if that’s what your subby mind wanted or not.

Azriel pulled you out of his grasp and held your face again. There was denial swimming in your eyes. You didn’t believe that you had done anything wrong – you didn’t think you deserved to be let off the hook. Azriel squinted and tilted his head a little, trying to read what was going through your head.

Do you want to be punished? Wouldn’t that just shove you further into your submissive headspace?

He knew you, it was best not to entertain the thought of Azriel being above you—being dominant—being daddy. Every other time he’d snapped you from your subspace, he’d had to remind you that he didn’t want his little girl – that he wanted his baby, his fiancé, his strong and independent female. 

He had to remind you that he was Azriel and he wouldn’t respond to you if you didn’t address him as such. But he also had to be careful. If he didn’t go about it the right way, you could fall deeper and it was the last thing he wanted.

He leaned down to kiss at your lips again but you didn’t kiss him back. You didn’t think you should be allowed to. Azriel frowned, his lips smearing against your closed mouth. 

“Why won’t you kiss me back, baby? Just want some kisses,” he pleaded softly, nose bumping yours and he coaxed tiy to open up; to kiss him back just as gently.

“That’s better…” he breathed. 

You let yourself sink into the kiss, your arms wrapping back around his neck as your chest bumped with his. Azriel still had his hands on the sides of your flushed face and they sunk down your body in tender holds. His palms rested on the little dips in your hips as he pulled you closer. Your neck craned up to meet his kisses and he dipped down to keep your touch intact.

An idea sparked in Azriel’s head and his grip on your hips loosened. His hands snaked around to the front of your (his) shirt and he began unbuttoning it from the bottom to the top. You don’t break the kiss or comment on his advances. You let him have his way with you, do what he pleased because you thought this was it: your punishment was just beginning.

But oh, how wrong you were. 

When the shirt slipped from your shoulders and swam at your ankles, goosebumps broke across the surface of your soft skin. Your nipples pearled and they scratched against the material of his leathers. The sensation caused a careless whimper to slip from your mouth, and into his. Azriel tried not to grin at the noise and let his warm, scarred hands run up the expanse of your bare back.

“Feel good, baby?” he mumbled into your mouth, hot tongue sliding against yours and you hummed again, welcoming his heavy taste of coffee and mint. 

Your mind was in a state of turmoil. Was he going to punish you? Was this his way of proving he wasn’t mad? What was he going to do? You can’t think straight.

You nod your head, kissing back with just as much vigour as you could but Azriel slowed the pace, wanting you to just feel him. 

“Just taste my lips,” he guided. 

His mouth moved slowly across yours, touch barely there but enough for you to feel him, to taste him. The gentleness of his touch helped to clear your mind to a state of blankness where you had nothing but him.

From the thumping of the bond that tugged on his chest, Azriel knew what word was festering on the tip of your tongue. His mouth barely caressed you as his left hand came up to massage your jaw. 

“Azriel,” he corrected you before you even spoke, his words a breathless whisper. He didn’t let his eyes close and you didn’t let yours open.

He watched you keen for more, to get a stronger taste and he felt you shiver in just your underwear and tube socks. Azriel allowed his hand to wander to the backs of your thighs before hoisting your small frame into his arms. Your legs wrapped instinctively around his middle, minding the expanse of his wings, and with his lips still on yours, he carried you through the hall and into the bedroom.

He didn't throw you on the bed like you expected. Instead, Azriel slowly eased you back on the balls of your feet while keeping his tongue against your own. 

“Daddy,” you mewled as he backed out of the kiss just enough to unbutton the lapels that contained his weapons to him. 

You felt the rough graze of the leather brush across your nipples and you expected him to blindfold you, to tie you up with the belt that holstered his weapons. But he let it fall to their ankles and you were left in another state of confusion. 

“Azriel,” he corrected you again, nosing at yours and tugging the leathers off his chest. Azriel guided your small hands to his torso, allowing the heat of his skin to warm yours. 

“I’m here, Y/N. Just feel my skin,” he encouraged in a soothing mutter.

He guided your hands across his chest and shoulders, coaxed you to squeeze and grope at his muscles and he started to swell harder in his pants when your thumb brushed over his nipples and fingers reached to lock in the tendrils of hair on the nape of his neck. With your mind and hands occupied on his body, Azriel took the opportunity to unbuckle his belt and slip out of his trousers.

He toed off his socks and kicked the clothing to the side; a prominent tent pitched in his boxers and you bravely let your hand fall further down his body. Your wrist knocked against his length through the cotton pants and he stifled a groan. “Please, daddy,” you whispered in a shaky tone against his lips and he could taste the cinnamon bagel you had for lunch.

He subtly shook his head against you, nose bumping yours as he eased you onto the bed – crawling between your parted legs and helping your head to lay back on his pillow. He knew his scent was encompassing your senses and boggling your mind. He also knew it was what would bring you back to him.

“Come on, Y/N,” he whispered softly. 

You’re swarmed by the darkness of his shadows that caress your skin, that whisper gentle reminders that he wasn’t made. Even through the shadows that swarmed you and the dim lighting of the bedroom, Azriel could still see your face – still make out your fluttering eyes beneath closed lids and he urged you to open them.

“Open your eyes, my love. Feel my touch,” he breathed.

His hips were gently rutting against yours, body keeping your thighs parted. Azriel reached a hand between your bodies. He didn’t want to break the touch to take off your underwear, so he opted to pull his aching cock from the waistband of his boxers instead. His tip was oozing with precum that he knew you loved to taste but you can do that later.

Azriel just wanted his love back.

He massaged your dripping core over your knickers, soaking the fabric as you whined desperately at him. Azriel peeled the fabric aside, thumbing at your swollen little clit and he felt your body jolt under his touch. “That's it,” he coaxed encouragingly, rubbing slow circles and you felt his cock bump at your entrance.

You let out a shallow shrill, one that was drowned by the silence of the room and he cooed at you. Azriel had one arm bent by the side of your head to hold up his weight and his hand was angled perfectly for him to brush strands of hair from your clammy forehead. “Gotta come back to me, Y/N. Gotta taste my lips and feel my skin, my love.”

You keen under his touch as Azriel dragged his thick cock to your weeping hole, feeling it flutter against his tip at the anticipation of intrusion. “Shh,” he cooed, circling your entrance before pushing in just a few inches. You gasped against his mouth, welcoming his tongue as he massaged his against yours.

He slowly sheathed in, vision dotted and he tried to muffle his belts of pleasure. You were clamping him down, walls soaked and warm and he felt so fucking snug in your tiny little cunt that stretched around him. 

“So good,” he praised, shuddering breaths across your face and your back arched, your chest out and into his.

“Daddy, please,” you mewled in a soft gasp, eyes wide open but you were staring straight through Azriel, like you didn’t really see him. He shushed you, rolling his lips deliciously and suckling on your tongue. “Come on, Y/N,” he guided. “Come back to me, love. Come back to Azriel.”

His hazel embers were drilling into yours in a gentle manner, like he was trying to get you to find the light in his eyes and swim to it. He tugged on that bond again, surging as much love and force as he could. 

He could feel your heart hammering against his chests and you were clawing at his back when your eyes met. “Yes,” You gasped as his cock hit against your precious little spongy spot.

Azriel grunted and panted above you, a sight so fucking holy toy thought you might’ve gone to heaven. But his thrusts were anything but angelic and his curls and wings were feigning devil horns above his head. 

“Azriel,” you choked, fingernails tearing into the taut skin of Azriel’s shoulders but he fucked into you harder at the mention of his name spilling weakly from your lips.

“That’s it. Just feel me, my love,” he grunted, slick sounds of your pussy squelching and his cock thrusting filled the air. Az’s chest was heavy on yours, a crushing weight that he couldn’t seem to hold up but the touch of his body on yours was what you needed. That push of guidance and pulling of grounding that knocked you into you right mindset.

“Azriel!” You cried again. 

Your voice was much harder, louder – you were more sure of yourself and him and where your mind was racing off to. Your eyes were still locked in an intense gaze and he didn’t know if your body was relaxing because you were close to your release or because you were out of your subby headframe.

You tugged back on that bond, finally, and Azriel could hear the pleads and cries of his name that you echoed through the bridge that connected your souls. 

“Cum for me, Y/N. Want you to cum all over my cock, baby. Come on.”

Azriel nipped at your bottom lip, let your tongue run across his gums and lick into his mouth. He could feel your thighs trembling from either side of his body and he kept going.

“Wanna cum! Please, please, please,” you begged, eyes frantic and wide. Azriel’s lips smeared against yours messily, cock sliding easily as you gripped him tighter and tighter. “Cum, baby. You don’t have to ask, just cum,” he promised.”

“Azriel! Fuck, Azriel!” 

Ecstasy washed over you with a shrill cry, eyes shut tight as Azriel met his own release and spilled into you hotly. You squirmed as he stilled, panting and frantic. Your hands were all over his clammy skin as you tried to regain a sense of consciousness.

Azriel’s hands looped around your face, shushing and cooing you to open your eyes, to come back to him. “Hey, shhh. Open your eyes, my love. Come on,” he spurred tenderly, tip of his nose nudging yours as your eyes slowly fluttered open. 

You blinked away the orgamsic blur and a toothy grin sat lazily on your lips.

He waited a beat, tried to decipher for himself whether or not you’d snapped out of it and was back with yourself. 

“Cauldron, you literally fucked it out of me,” you choked out a drunken giggle. 

Azriel let out a sighed laugh, head in the crook of your neck and your eyes were dazzling in post-orgasmic bliss.

“You’re a nightmare,” he joked into your chest, kissing his way up to your mouth. You offered an exhausted giggle, cheeks tinted pink from embarrassment of the underlying situation at hand. 

“I’m sorry, you know. Don’t know why I got like that,” you apologised. You felt a little silly, if you were honest, but Azriel never let you feel that way for long.

He shook his head and kissed your swollen lips again. “Don’t,” he said. “Was my fault for not making sure you were alright after. I normally do, I don’t know why I didn’t last night,” he admitted lowly. 

It was your turn to shake your head and scratch your blunt fingernails through his curls and at his scalp. “Not your fault, we both know how I get sometimes. Thank you, for snapping me out of it.”

Azriel kissed you softly, lips enveloped in a tired kiss as he slipped out of you, both of you hissing at the lack of warmth you offered each other. He sighed as he fell onto his back, sweaty chests cooling from the air. You coddled into his chest, his seed dripping from your sore cunt but you didn’t make any attempt to stop it.

Azriel snorted. “You’re dripping on the sheets.” 

You rolled your eyes at the comment and peeled your body away from his, sitting up to look between your parted thighs. Sure enough, there was a soaked patch just beneath you where arousal was starting to stick to the sheets.

You shrugged. “It’s your cum, not mine,” you argued playfully, shooting fake glares at the culprit. Azriel grinned cheekily at his love, reaching out for you so he could massage at your thigh the way he knew made you relax. 

“Well I do apologise,” he quipped in a playful tone and you hummed, playing into his mood.

“Mhm, you can change the sheets.” You leant down to kiss his cheek before hopping off the bed and padding nakedly to your bathroom. You switched on the light and allowed it to drown out into the bedroom so Azriel could see just how much mess you made. He couldn’t stop the blush that sat heavy on his cheeks.

You peered your head out of the bathroom and Azriel swore his heart fucking grew twice it’s size and he almost forgot how to breath. You had a shy smile on your lips and a look in your eye that he knew all too well. “I know you snapped me out of it but I still want to feel you… can we take a bath?” You asked, eyes hopeful as you gnawed on your bottom lip.

Azriel swallowed back the love that wanted to spew out of his mouth and nodded his head. “You can have anything you want, my love,” he sighed, dreamily. 

He followed you into the bathroom. When the water was drawn just enough and to the perfect temperature, you climbed in together with your back resting against his chest and Azriel’s lips pressed to your neck.

feedback is always appreciated!! <3

[forlix]

‧ ❆ ˚ 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 (besides myself)・l.f.

— you spend three years loving him, six months losing him, and four hours waiting for him to get the hell out of your house. but the human heart is more stubborn than you know.

words・5.4k

pairing・lee felix x gn!reader

genres・babysitter!au, girldad!lix, nobody look at me, toothrotting fluff, more angst than originally intended tbh, exes to lovers, hurt/comfort, happy ending yayyy, non-linear storyline

warnings・cousin has a korean name and experiences one (1) minor head bump, mc is temporarily heartbroken and experiences one (1) breakdown

playlist・house song by searows・glad by tori kelly・let's pretend by del water gap・you were good to me by jeremy zucker

a/n・hiiii my loves, i'm so unbelievably excited to bring u my first contribution to my and @astraystayyh's collaboration, "winter falls" ♡ every time i write for our ray of sunshine i'm reminded of how thankful i am to love him. this fic ruined me. hope it does the same to you (smile)

I. everything

“One day,” you muttered to the toddler sitting on your shoulders, “you’ll experience something deeply, irreversibly humbling, and I’ll be there to witness your downfall.”

Byeol responded to this with an unbothered babble. She then gathered two handfuls of your hair and yanked using far too much force to be biologically possible.

You folded like a lawn chair. “Mother—!”

Oh, that word was not suitable for button-sized ears.

“—oh, my dear mother, why? Why me?”

Technically speaking, your aunt should’ve been the target of your lamentations, but all she did was produce the child presently steering you around the kitchen like you were her own personal bumper car. Your own mother was the one who volunteered you to watch said child during the first weekend of your winter break. Only for an hour until the babysitter arrives, she’d said (raising her voice, so as to be heard over your groaning).

You adored Byeol. She made scarily accurate chipmunk sounds and possessed an immobilizing fear of grapes. She bust out a dance move before she took her first steps. The girl could have you floored with laughter without being able to say more than three words at a time. Still, this was far from how you imagined onsetting your desperately-needed few weeks off. Not to mention it was now half past three; your shift should’ve ended two minutes ago.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Byeol emitted an excited onomatopoeia like a golden retriever detecting the mailman. Your reaction wasn’t too far off; you swiveled your head in the sound’s direction, sang out “coming!” in a delighted vibrato, and twirled into the foyer, your hands around Byeol’s ankles anchoring her in place.

You cracked open the door and found yourself face-to-face with Byeol’s babysitter. The freckles scattered across his high cheekbones and sloping nose seemed to you like they were imprinted by the sun itself. His hair was dark, falling just shy of pitch black, and long, ending an inch or so below pierced ears. A few misbehaving strands rested over his forehead but did little to obstruct your view of his eyes: profoundly brown and pointed at either end, like poinsettia petals.

He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. You felt your skin warm, your heart flip. You opened your mouth. 

Then Byeol hit her head against the vertical edge of the front door, loud enough for it to echo.

The panic that seized you in that moment was truly unlike anything you’d experienced before. You caught one glimpse of the stranger’s expression (as mortified as you expected), and then you were seeing your own epitaph on the inside of your eyelids, engraved with the four words “Death by Furious Aunt.”

“Was that—?” The man sputtered, and his voice was rich and full and accented and just as breathtaking as the rest of him and holy fucking shit now was not the time.

“My fucking god,” you whispered, completely forgetting to watch your mouth. In a hurry, you swung Byeol off your shoulders and dropped to a knee. You leaned in close to examine her reddening forehead and cradled the plush of her cheek; she blinked at you a few times, fascinated by the sudden sight of your face again.

“You okay, Byeollie? That hurt a lot, didn’t it? I’m so, so sorr—”

Byeol started to laugh.

Not laugh as in those little chuckles she let out randomly, like there was something inherently amusing about the kitchen cupboard, but laugh as in a boisterous, resounding guffaw, like a great-uncle at a family gathering off one too many martinis.

This rendered you speechless for the second time in under a minute. Then, you lifted your other hand to cradle her other cheek, her face now sandwiched between your palms, and squeezed.

“I broke my cousin,” you whispered, your voice was so deathly serious that the man in the doorway had to stifle a laugh of his own.

His knee brushed against your shin as he sat down to your left, folding his legs into a criss-cross. You could discern notes of lavender and orange blossoms in the delicate cologne that clung to him, perforated the air and your mind both.

“Can I?” He asked.

“Please.”

Carefully, you shifted Byeol’s small frame towards him; the manner in which he accepted her was so smooth and practiced that there was no doubt in your mind you were watching a professional at work. He settled her on his right knee, then dipped his head to look her in the eye.

“Hi, princess,” he cooed with a dulcet smile. He curved his pointer finger, dusted it beneath her chin. “Why are you laughing, silly girl?”

Oh.

Oh.

You might just continue your lineage after all.

“Y/N-ie,” she answered, still tittering.

He looked to you with a slight tilt to his head, and you nodded affirmatively. He murmured a quiet ah. “What about Y/N-ie?”

Somehow you sensed that she was about to embarrass you and pinched the bridge of your nose—in preparation.

“P-pretty.” I knew it!

The man let out the laugh he’d been holding back since earlier and tapped on her button nose, lowered his voice to a whisper that he knew you could hear.

“I agree.” His eye glinted playfully, matching his tone. “And so are you.” The bashful, high-pitched giggle she responded with sounded eerily similar to your inner monologue.

The two of you spent a little longer on the floor of the foyer making sure Byeol was okay, and then the girl upped and made a mad dash for the kitchen while yelling something about a horse, and if that didn’t confirm that she was completely fine (albeit incredibly strange) you didn’t know what would. You found her rolling around the carpet in the room adjacent to the kitchen and left her to her own devices while you and her babysitter fixed up a small fruit plate for her afternoon snack. No grapes, of course.

He told you he usually went by Felix, but that his Korean name was probably easier for Byeol to pronounce, with its easier consonants and whatnot. You asked which name he preferred, and he said either or. He was a recent college graduate, a year older than you, who was determined to spend at least the next two years doing nothing but working out his future. He accepted the part-time babysitting position to pick up some light cash in the process.

“And ‘cause I’m good with kids,” he added, splitting apart a tangerine. “So I’ve been told.”

“Oh, you definitely are,” you said, plating a couple blueberries. “You melted her earlier.”

“She melted me. She’s so cute. And you’re so cute with her—I didn’t realize I was robbing someone of their job.”

You turned your head to regard the tot and let out a helpless laugh. Byeol tired of being a human lint roller a few minutes ago and had since moved on to staring aimlessly out the window.

“She doesn’t take me seriously, and I can’t stay mad at her,” you mused. “I would be a nightmare as her babysitter, trust me. She’s all yours.”

Felix held out two overturned handfuls of tangerine slices, to which you quickly moved the platter across the counter. He didn’t respond to your comments as he placed them on the outermost edge so that they looked like rays of sun emanating from a multicolored core. Adorable.

“Will you be around much, then?”

You made eye contact with him across the counter. On his perfect face was a teasing smirk and a subtle blush. Ah, you’d been mistaken, writing off his silence as concentration—he’d been contemplating how to best flirt with you.

“Y’know. In case I need any help teaching her cuss words,” he appended.

It was then your turn to flush a couple shades darker. “Please don’t tell her mom.”

“I won’t, I won’t.” He walked around the perimeter of the counter until he was directly in front of you; the lavender and orange blossoms returned. “On one condition.”

Not even one hour on the job and he was already trying to blackmail you? You respected it. “Which is?”

As he shifted some of his weight onto the counter, something too shifted in his smile, giving it a quality that was every bit as hopeful as it was gentle.

It was then, while Lee Felix was looking at you like that, all dilated pupils and long lashes, when you predicted that he would one day break your heart. You predicted you’d let him.

“Be around,” he said simply.

It wasn’t a question or a demand. In hindsight, you think it was more akin to a birthday wish, ill-fated the moment it hit the air.

II. has changed

Felix pulled Byeol’s hood up and over her ears, and you realized he was right about the winter coat getting too small for her—she looked like a bowling pin. You muffled your snort into your scarf.

“And what was the last rule again?” He asked, his breath puffing into the frigid afternoon in tiny clouds. Byeol sighed like she knew anything of the world’s woes.

“No barking at other kids,” came the sad reply, but a toothy smile spread across her face anyways when Felix nudged the underside of her chin. She loved when he did that.

“That’s my girl,” he hummed. “I believe in you.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” you said, and the wounded look Felix shot you was like you’d just confessed to hating kittens. “Come on—she doesn’t have a good track record. I’m allowed to have my doubts.”

“I dunno what that means,” Byeol announced with admirable frankness, and then turned around and scurried down the porch stairs, scattering fun-sized footprints across the snowy streets.

As you braced yourself to follow her, Felix stopped you with a slip of his hand into the pocket of your puffer. His fingers first aligned with yours inside the insulated nylon, then chased the spaces in between. He leaned in close, placed a kiss on the apple of your cheek, another on the corner of your mouth. This brought a helpless smile to your face, too. He had a way of melting you and Byeol both.

“It’ll be fine,” he soothed. “A little barking never hurt anybody, baby.”

“Lix, last time somebody called animal control.”

“Ermm—a little barking never hurt most people.”

That winter, Byeol was four, and your relationship with Felix was about to turn two.

Funnily enough, you’d never figured out when your anniversary actually was. Felix wagered it was the day you met, as he knew he loved you the instant he saw you; you insisted it was months later, since it took both of you an entire winter break of open-ended flirting and informal dating to label yourselves for real. Imagine your horror when he showed up outside your college apartment on the last day of your fall semester, arms overflowing with flowers and gift bags brimming with your favorite things, the phrase “happy anniversary” on his lips three months before you perceived it to be. You’ve celebrated both days ever since.

You loved the ocean growing up. You didn’t get to visit it often, but when you did you would run up to the water’s very edge so that your toes dipped into the cold—and just stand there, observing, absorbing, until even the seam of your lips and the ends of your eyelashes were studded with crystals of seasalt. You found endless tranquility in its rhythmic whispers and unspeakable comfort in its oscillating waves, guaranteed to return after momentary departure.

Your fascination stemmed from the folktale your mother used to read to you before bed, about a sun goddess creating the earth. In the story, every component of nature was one of the sun’s beloved children. She allegedly loved them all, but you suspected the ocean was her favorite; it was obvious, the way she twinkled off its ebbing surface, the way every minuscule spot of light looked to you like a handprint of hers, left behind by eons of endless doting.

Felix reminded you of the ocean. Every day you grew more certain that you wanted to drown in him, to let his resonant voice and kind eyes sweep and keep you inside his depths. It was never salt that he pressed into your skin but warmth, stamped and sealed with caring hands and cautious lips. His deep whispers promised eternal love and temporary ecstasy and everything in between. You knew he would come back to you even if stranded in a different realm. And there was no questioning the goddess’ favoritism, either. The freckles on his face mirrored the sun’s very spots like an homage to his creator.

You didn’t love the ocean growing up, no. You had never loved before Felix.

The park was busy when the three of you arrived. Byeol and Felix recognized a few families as your aunt’s neighbors and hurried over to say hello. Your social butterflies. 

“I’ll be over there,” you called after them.

Felix stopped in his tracks, looked over his shoulder. It had started snowing lightly on your walk there, and snowflakes now sat atop his sable locks. He looked like a painting. “You okay?”

“Yes, yes.” You shooed them off. “Don’t worry about me. Go have fun.” 

With that, you withdrew to the sidelines, an unoccupied swingset adjacent to a baseball diamond covered in frost. 

Your baby cousin was brawny for her age, which you could’ve seen coming with how she was hauling at your hair two years ago, but even she couldn’t yet terrorize the playground without assistance. Who better to make her partner in crime than her favorite Bokkie? You couldn’t help but giggle as the two revolved around each other for the better part of an hour, Byeol’s smile colossal as she frolicked every which way, Felix’s smile worried but hopelessly endeared as he followed behind. He never let her leave his shadow. She never tried to.

It was there on those icy swings that you experienced a moment of strange clarity, like you’d broken the fourth wall of your own story. You could feel the winds of change blowing your hair across your shoulders. You were aware of time’s trickling from the gaps of your fingers like liquid mercury.

Your laughter dissipated to a bittersweet smile; your smile mellowed to dewy eyes. It seemed like just yesterday when Byeol was small enough to sit on your shoulders and Felix stepped into your kitchen for the first time. Now, she was scaling a rope ladder with the celerity of a crazed monkey while Felix hovered a wary hand by her waist. The muted sunlight caught on the silver rings he wore, particularly the thin, bright one on his middle finger. You had one just like it, adorning the same place. 

The last two years were the happiest of your life. Why couldn’t you remember where they went?

Lavender and orange blossoms announced your boyfriend’s arrival—that, and the sigh of fatigue that he expelled as he dropped into the swing next to you.

“I’m not cut out for this anymore.”

Byeol’s neighbor had temporarily relieved Felix of his post by taking her and his son to test out the seesaw, and you wouldn’t be surprised if the whole town could hear her enthusiastic shrieking.

“You know how people walk their dogs?” You mused. “Some dogs walk their people. She’s one of them.”

For a moment, he could only stare in disbelief at the grin creeping across your face; then, he groaned in a way that could only mean you were right on the money. You gave his thigh a sympathetic pat.

“You’re whipped, my love. It’s okay.”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted, suddenly perking up. “Hey, no barking though.”

“Are we considering that a win nowadays?”

“Do you see animal control anywhere?”

“Good point.”

Felix monitored your expression during the quiet interval that ensued—saw through the melancholy curve of your lips, the pensive slant of your gaze. There was a red tinge to the whites of your eyes that hadn’t been there before.

You saw him reach for you in your periphery. His fingers brushed a lock of hair behind the shell of your ear, remained there for three slow heartbeats, and then lifted away.

“Angel,” he murmured. “Talk to me.”

You shook your head. “It’s silly.”

“It’s not.” Not even ten seconds after the last time, he reached for you again, now to take your hand and bring it to his lap. “You know it’s not.”

“It’s just that—”

Felix thumbed over the ridges of your knuckles, his touch so gentle that it could’ve unraveled a chrysalis; it certainly unraveled you. You took a stabilizing breath.

“I wish could recognize my own happiness in the moment,” you sighed, “not just in retrospect. That way, even when it comes to an end, I’d still be able to look back and say with confidence that I was happy once. I’d like that, I think.”

His brows knit together as he processed your words, and, the next thing you knew, he left his swing trembling in his sudden absence and his trenchcoat became a black blur in the cold air.

Felix rested his elbows atop your knees as he knelt in front of you, cradled your face in his hands. He was achingly beautiful always, but you truly felt your breath swiped from your lungs at the new proximity of his ethereal features: petal-shaped eyes, wind-bitten cheeks, coral cupid’s bow. A painting.

“That’s easy enough,” Felix hummed. “How do you feel right now?”

You had zero agency in the smile this brought to your face. You wrapped your hands around his wrists, your answer quick, thoughtless. “Happy.”

He pressed his lips to the space between your eyes. “And now?”

“Happier.”

He pressed his lips to the curve of your jaw. “What about now?” 

“Even happier.”

His gaze flickered to his final destination, but you beat him to it, sealing your mouth against his with urgency. The kiss that followed was so intensely loving that your head went fuzzy. How was it that you felt his adoration for you even in his pliant lips, his velvet tongue? You ran your fingers through the part of his hair. You loved when you could feel the locks flutter back into place afterwards.

“GET A ROOM!”

You and Felix pulled away from one another, wearing matching expressions of bewilderment. Byeol was approximately five Newtons away from soaring off into the stratosphere, her legs jostling around as she clung to her seat for dear life. It seemed your neighbor had a very aggressive way of seesaw-maneuvering. It seemed your cousin had a very aggressive vocabulary.

“Where did she learn—?” The two of you began in unison, then shot your heads back towards each other.

“It had to be you.”

“Outrageous—you’re the Australian here!”

“You cuss like one too!”

“Because of you!”

“So we’re just lying now?”

“Well, yes.”

Felix cracked a smile—and then the two of you were dying of laughter, his right eye squinting closed and your forehead thudding onto his shoulder. You hardly managed to get out your next words. “We have to do something about her vernacular, don’t we?”

“Oh, badly,” he replied. “Badly.”

After you expended your giggles, you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, blissful, glowing. “Thank you, baby.”

“What for?”

“Being my happiness.”

He angled your face back to his and kissed you once more, whispering I love you like it wasn’t enough that it graced your ears; he needed it embossed upon your flesh in permanent ink.

Your intermingled breaths floated up into the air like flare signals over a capsizing boat. Here marks the time we were happiest.

III. (besides myself)

He’s blonde.

That’s the first thing you notice when you see your ex-boyfriend on your aunt’s porch: the slightly off-white color of his silky tresses, grown out longer than you’ve ever seen, pushed off his forehead and tucked behind his ears.

It’s not the only thing you notice, of course. His face has thinned ever so slightly, the shadows thrown over his features by the streetlights behind him particularly opaque. His outfit is glorious, expensive, with the black blazer and white dress shirt, the top two buttons undone, the pendant of a silver necklace resting between toned collarbones. His hands are almost overflowing with what must be gifts for your family. It’s impossible to discern all of them from this distance, but you know the bouquet of white poinsettias is for your mom, the batch of brownies doused in sprinkles and icing for Byeol.

But the hair is where your gaze returns, because tucked among the platinum strands are black roots: millimeters of the color you grew to adore, peeking out as if trying to catch a glimpse of you, too.

You’re so occupied with this game of “I spy” that you don’t notice the rampant footsteps coming up behind you. Your six-year-old cousin collides with the back of your leg head-on and nearly topples you like a bowling pin.

“Is it him?” She asks breathlessly.

You come this close to berating her as you steady yourself against the wall—what did I say about treating human beings like couch cushions? But you look down to see her chin resting on the side of your thigh, her eager eyes shining so brightly that she puts her own namesake to shame. Your scolding tirade dissolves on your tongue like popping candy.

You simply sigh instead. “Yes, but—”

“BOKKIE!” She shrieks, and Felix’s head snap upwards at the sound of her voice. His tender smile melts some of the frost laminating your heart.

You crack open the door, making eye contact with Felix for the first time in six months.

“Put everything down. Quickly,” you whisper, and he obeys right away, alarmed by the urgency in your voice. A wise choice.

The last present has hardly touched down upon the wooden planks when Byeol wriggles through the doorway and charges towards Felix like an angered toro. He swivels at her bright holler of his name, lowers himself to a squat just barely in time to catch her in his embrace. The delighted laugh that leaves his mouth as he staggers backwards sounds like the sun itself; you feel lost in orbit hearing it again.

“Bokkie,” Byeol murmurs, her voice muffled in the dip of his shoulder, by the tightening of her arms around his neck.

“Hi, princess.” He kisses her temple, presses his nose against her hair. “Whoa, you’ve grown strong, haven’t you?”

“She takes taekwondo classes now,” you hum from above, and the shock in his face asks the very question that your poignant smile confirms. Yes, because of you.

Felix pulls away, cocoons her cheeks with cherishing hands. “Is that true?”

She bobs her head. “I want to be like Bokkie.”

And his eyes go impossibly, terribly soft, like he’s gazing at the horizon itself. The sight twists the knife in your gut and yanks on your tangled heartstrings. It’s all because of you.

“And kick some ass!” Byeol adds, knocking you out of your sentimental spiral. You clap a defeated hand to your forehead. Felix falls over himself. So much for fixing her vernacular.

A few minutes later, Byeol is pirouetting towards the kitchen with a couple of Felix’s smaller presents in her arms, all too happy to be of help. You linger behind as Felix takes off his shoes, your cousin’s departure leaving the two of you alone in the dim foyer.

Felix straightens. The two of you come face to face. The air hangs so heavily with unspoken words that you half expect it to start dripping.

“Hi,” he says.

You nearly laugh at the cruelty of it. The man you were certain you’d grow old with greeting you like you’ve been forced to sit next to each other on the first day of school.

“Hi,” you answer. “You look—”

The two of you say this last part in unison; old habits die hard.

“—nice,” you finish.

“—beautiful,” Felix breathes, his eyes flicking off to the side abashedly.

Your throat constricts, pulse quickens. Says you. If he was a painting before, you think he’s a sculpture now, his perfection as tangible as if hand-chiseled by the greatest artists of old. As clear as the sun’s beloved sea. You can’t tell if it’s his stylist’s doing or simply a product of him growing into himself.

“Thank you,” you reply quietly. “And thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for inviting me. I didn’t think you would.”

“I didn’t do it for me.”

No part of you wants to see the subtle wince that crosses his face at your statement, so you turn your gaze to his jewelry-laden hands instead. 

For a split second, you swear you see the same promise ring settled in the same place on his middle finger. You realize what you’re really looking at only after blinking the phosphenes from your eyes: the thin tanline that it left behind. The realization fixes and destroys you all at once.

Then, Byeol starts wailing about Felix’s whereabouts like an actress hired to spare you from this very interaction.

“Her Highness beckons.” The smile you manage feels like drying cement. “Shall we?”

On your way to the kitchen, you notice the cologne emanating from his person smells only of citrus—no lavender. Its absence steadies you, deludes you into believing that it’s a stranger you’ve just let inside.

That illusion lasts for exactly three hours and forty-eight minutes.

It’s clear that the breakup has your family walking on eggshells, but it’s even clearer that their adoration for Felix has never wavered. You’ve never resigned yourself to the restroom so many times in one night, only to stand with your back against the door, unmoving, unfeeling, listening to the low thrum of his voice through the mahogany. Chatting comfortably with your aunt, bursting into laughter with Byeol, reminding you of the time you considered him family too. 

With every glance you toss your reflection, you discover new cracks in your composure. Has he noticed them yet?

After you come out of the restroom for the sixth time, you notice a light spilling from Byeol’s bedroom into the hallway. A low Australian accent graces your ears, followed closely by a tinkling giggle, and your body nudges you towards the sounds before your head can intervene.

You give your cousin’s door a feather-light nudge. It opens a few centimeters more and grants you vision of Byeol tucked into bed, Felix knelt at her side. Both of their faces are illuminated by the flaxen light of the nearby lamp.

Felix brushes her choppy bangs out of her eyes, a teasing smile on his lips. “Can I tell you a secret, princess?”

This wrests from her another fluttering laugh; you swear he’s the only person in the whole world who makes her shy. “Sure!”

“Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“Promise.”

“Not even Snernard.”

“M’kay.”

“Or Bong.”

“M’kay.”

“Especially not Trash the chicken. I don’t trust him.”

“I know, I know, I won’t!” Byeol huffs, and Felix laughs at her outburst. You also snort into your sleeve, amused (and deeply perplexed) by your cousin’s plushie-naming conventions.

“Thank you,” he hums, and he lowers his voice enough that you don’t catch the next thing he says.

All you perceive is the way that Byeol reacts. She sits up straight in bed, resting her back against her pillow. Her features rearrange themselves slowly, awfully, like the spread of cherry-flavored cough syrup over one’s sore throat, into the furthest thing from her trademark too-big-for-her-face smile.

Your stomach plummets to your fucking ankle.

“Why?” Her voice sounds microscopic.

“Well, do you remember what Bokkie’s dream job is?”

Byeol considers for a moment. “Being a singer?”

“That’s right.” He runs a knuckle over the hill of her cheek, the action achingly familiar, immensely fond. “And I found a place where I can do that, but it’s very, very far away. I won’t be able to come home very often.”

The telltale signs appear as he speaks; the final word sets them into motion. A tear streaks down the side of Byeol’s face. It hardly leaves the corner of her eye before it’s being intercepted by a doting swipe of his thumb.

“No,” she replies.

“You've grown so much.” Another tear falls. He wipes away that one, too. “You’re growing so well.”

“No,” she repeats.

“You’ve stolen the light of every star in the sky already. The whole galaxy will be yours someday, sweetheart. I know it.”

“I don’t want it,” she whispers. “I want my Bokkie.”

His vision starts to blur also. “But you don’t need me anymore.”

“We do.”

You know the precise moment Felix’s heart pauses in his chest because it is when yours does too.

“We?” He repeats, and she nods.

“Your dream job is being a singer.” Now Byeol is the one to reach for Felix, her delicate hand cupping the curve of his cheek. Her fingers are too small to catch his tears, she tries anyways—

“But what is your dream?”

It becomes too much for you.

You turn around. A choked sob escapes from behind the hand you have sealed to your mouth, causing both heads inside Byeol’s room to whirl in your direction. You don’t care that you nearly break both of your ankles beelining up the stairs; you only care to get the fuck out of that hallway.

You topple into your room, close the door behind you, and crumble.

Your quivering hands find purchase around your folded legs; your eyes squeeze shut against your knees. Rivulets of tears cascade over your shuddering lips like ruptured barrels of wine, left in the cellars of your soul to age, to spoil.

You never wanted your grief to see the light of day. Pouring your regret over every sidewalk wouldn’t change the past. Splashing your heartache across every wall like the world’s most fucked-up mural wouldn’t alleviate the pain of losing him. He was the one who left, but you were the one who’d asked him to. Feeling, yearning, mourning. Those always seemed so futile.

But you’re not just crying in this moment, rocking back and forth on your bedroom floor; you’re bleeding, the wounds you never treated igniting all at once as if exposed to vinegar, leaving you writhing and gasping in their wake. How you wish they’d been able to heal sooner. Maybe then seeing Felix tonight wouldn’t have splintered your soul like dropped porcelain.

Your door clicks open. Your breath hitches in your throat with a quiet scratch. The gulp of oxygen you intake tastes of oranges.

Every night before you fall asleep, you still think of the last time you visited the sea. The cool sand chafing against your toes, the coarse winds slapping your hair against your face hard enough to sting. The weather was terrible (you neglected to check the forecast before making the drive), but when you stepped onto the embittered coastline, you took what felt like the first real breath of your young adulthood. The fog melded to your skin as if melting a blindfold away, showing you the world in its entirety.

You return to that beach when Felix pulls you into his chest, and there’s no fog this time. Just the faint smell of lavender and your ocean, guaranteed to return after momentary departure.

Feverishly, Felix presses his lips to your temple, the apple of your cheek, rests his forehead against yours. Brokenly, he utters, “it’s you.”

You can feel his shaking in every part of him: the tickling breath, the fluttering eyelashes, the unsteady hand that reaches into the pocket of his blazer. You graze your fingers over his jaw, an attempt to steady his careening heart, only to lose yours in the fray also when he produces a small red box of unmistakable dimensions.

“God, it’s you. It always has been, always will be. Anything can change except for this.” His voice disintegrates as he speaks. You disintegrate as you listen. “Everything has changed besides myself.”

Felix leans back in to pepper kisses across the expanse of your wet features, then brings himself to one fated knee. He flicks open the lid. You don’t even spare the ring a glance; you don’t doubt its perfection. All you care to look at is the love of your life, deliquesced to adoration and tearwater.

“Thank you for being around, my dream.” His soft smile tends to your scars like ambrosia. “Will you let me do the same?”

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend ・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp ♡

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support!

[selyeji]

conversations

joão félix x reader (requested)

summary : falling inlove with someone you barely knew wasn’t on your list, especially when a simple search could be done.

(based on “a dream with a baseball player” by faye webster)

warnings : none

friday afternoon, the park was quiet and almost empty. people still working their shift and high school students still not released from their classes. the only sound that could be heard were footsteps and gushes of wind.

you sat on a wooden bench, legs crossed, with your book on your hand. the tree that stood near provided shade, protecting you from the sun. your mind consuming each word typed out on the pages, eyes darting from line to line.

bark. bark.

snapping back to reality from your reading session, you turn your head to see a short brown dog standing beside you, the little bell on its collar ringing. the dog walks up to your lap, circling around.

a bit surprised, you started to pet him. scratching his chin, based on his expression, it seems that was his favorite spot. before you could move him, you heard gasping and footsteps.

“floki… sorry for disturbing you, accidentally let him go and he ran.” a young man approached “may i?” he asked, gesturing to the empty spot next to you. you nod.

carrying the dog, who is floki, to the mans hands. his paws started to reach out for you. “seems like he likes you alot.” the man pats flokis head while giggling.

“he runs fast for a small dog.” you mumbled, showing a cheeky grin. “i forgot to introduce myself, sorry, my name is joão félix.” he said, handing out his palm. his thick accent slipping out, you assume he wasn’t from around here.

“y/n, nice to meet you.” you responded. his soft moist skin meeting yours as you shook his hand gently.

“are you from around here?” you ask, once your hands separate from each other. “no actually, here for work reason.” he responded.

“oh, that makes sense.”

“how’d you guess?”

“the accent im pretty sure.” you giggle off.

before you knew it, the conversation kept on going. your book long forgotten and floki being ignored. you both leave when the sun was no longer in sight.

you sat in the bathtub, the hot water surrounding your body. you were thinking about the entire day, you couldn’t stop thinking about the man you met, he was handsome and was a nice person to talk to. his hair was a nice shade of brown, although he wore a cap the entire time. he had a nice bright smile, you could recognize it from miles away.

you splashed some water in your face, trying to bring yourself back to reality. there was no way you could meet him again, it’s more likely this would be the first and last time you’ll ever meet. you couldn’t fall inlove with a stranger, you barely knew him.

once you dried up, did you skincare and laid in bed. you shut down those feelings from earlier. you never expected yourself to like someone so easily, it was best to never have high expectations. you wrap yourself under the blanket, slowly drifting to sleep.

…

saturday lunch, you were in the bookstore, organizing the new stock. working here wasn’t all bad, most customers were quiet and humble, not too much problems aside from people not properly returning books in the right shelf. the job didn’t pay well nor bad, it helped you get through your last year of college.

the door bells chime, indicating someone entering. you still continue with your work, most people didn’t really want employees talk to them unless they approach first. you respected this privacy until you felt a small tap on your shoulder.

there it was, that white and straight teeth smile. “joão? i didn’t expect to see you here.” you said, disregarding the books you still didn’t place back.

“same here, i was actually hoping to see you later, the same spot.” he said, hands in pocket continuing to smile. he had his hood on, still covering his head. you were surprised especially with todays weather. you shrugged it off, continuing the conversation.

“and i was hoping to see floki, poor boy must miss me alooott…” you said, acting dramatic and sad for the dog. wiping away your fake and non-existent tears.

“hey im still here…” joao pouted and brows curved.

“you’re not a cute dog, but close enough.” you shrug, keeping your smile on. “no but seriously, joao can i help you with anything? i need to get back to work.”

“just need to buy this book actually…” he said, showing a picture on his phone. you immediately recognize it, it was one of the books you restocked.

“heres a magic trick actually,” you said pulling out the book without moving a step. your face showing a cheeky grin as you raise your eyebrows, before the both of you giggle quietly.

“thanks.” he said, leaving you to go up to the cashier. you quietly continued with your work, humming while joao walks pass. “i’ll meet you later?” he yelled once his hand held the door handle.

you hummed but loud enough for him to hear. he soon left, the bells still chiming. you guessed he heard your response. before going to the back for more stock, your co-worker elbowed you.

“ow… what was that for?” you said, annoyed. “i definitely did not expect you to actually fall in love with someone.” he said.

“i don’t like him like that, plus we just met.” you replied. ignoring his comments, it was always like this during work. both you and him gossiped about university, helping in removing weight from your thoughts.

hours passed, your shift ended. meeting at your new usual spot, he was already there waiting for you. you quietly sat down beside him. leaning your back relaxingly. this time you saw floki but sat between you too.

“you brought floki?” you said with a smile across your cheeks. petting the dog as he jumped to your arms. patting the brown skin and massaging his cheeks.

“of course. he likes you alot after all.”

the conversation passed, words exchanged and before you knew it, it was already late. even street lights started to turn on. illuminate a yellow light across the neutral blue sky.

you went back home, changing clothes and researching on some papers. but it felt like you couldn’t intake any information at all, no matter how many times you repeat it in your head.

it felt impossible when the only thing you could think of was the next time you met joao. you thought about what you two would talk about. would it be about food? music? art? sports? who knew.

you started to think about your co-workers words from earlier. perhaps he was right, you were inlove. but you kept how, there was so many things to unpack about him and how could you even fall inlove?

days passed, each and every day was the same spot, same time, and same person. each word that came out was filled with genuine emotions and truth. you two were each others personal journal, instead of writing it down.

wednesday, your co-worker invited you to a football match. it was hosted in the stadium nearby so you gladly accepted. you barely knew anything about it aside from the world cup and ultras seen walking in the streets.

you two sat near the field, getting a closer view of the match. at first you didn’t pay attention to the players, just watching the ball whether it went in the net or not.

the crowd cheered, goal scored for barcelona. the name felix was yelled around, that name rung a bell. there was no way, i mean, it couldn’t hurt to check? and you were horribly wrong, joao felix the same guy you talked to everyday celebrating. hugging his teammates and yelling.

you two locked eyes, you of course gave a mad confused look to him. he responded back with a wink and a smile. you rolled your eyes at him, until your co-worker looked at you.

“did he just wink at you?” he screamed through the crowds screams. “that fucker…” you sighed out.

“he was the guy yesterday!?” he kept yelling even more.

“i thought you knew what he looked like?”

“i wasn’t even wearing my glasses!”

you just laid back to your seat, covering your face with your hoodie. contemplating about every single word you said to him, how embarrassing it was. you didn’t even search his name just to find his instagram.

the match ended, people started to find their way out the stadium. the both of you sat still, waiting for lesser people in the exits so you could go out smoothly.

“hey! y/n!” a voice yelled. you raise your head to see joao leaning towards the railing.

“joaoo… you didn’t tell me you were a professional football player…” you whined out while walking towards him.

“i guess i told you everything about me except that.” he laughed it off.

joao took off his jersey, his hair wet from sweat and his arm muscles defined by the lights. he took out a marker and signed the jersey. wrapping the shirt around your neck.

“keep it for me.” he said, running off before you could say a single word.

“holy shit. y/n l/n with the joao felix. do not fumble that man.” your co-worker said, holding on both of your shoulders.

you walked out the stadium, still thinking about what happened. the two of you walk your separate ways, once you arrived home, you threw yourself on the couch.

unfolding the jersey, flipping it to see the back. joao felix, 14, his signature… and his phone number. you were wondering the past days whether you would exchange phone numbers, you immediately took your phone and typed in the numbers. texting with a simple hey.

you decided to take a shower, not expecting a response right away. after all he’s probably busy celebrating. the entire time in the shower, you thought about his message, aswell as your response. ready for any possible message.

once you got out, you laid in bed. reading his message and replying back. this went on for hours, quickly typing back as your phones brightness glowed in the dark room, lighting up his message. still wearing his name on your back. this was just the start of a prospering relationship.

daily click to help palestine

a/n : 2 jamal fics and a fermin fic coming up… im doing the requests i swear im just reaaaallly slow 😭😭

i’ll probably make a part2 of this but based off another song

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

moth to a flame

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, praise, body worship, eye contact, public sex act, dry humping, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your friend invites you to a bonfire where you meet a man who knows you better than you think. plus! reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: this is my first of my autumn fics as decided by all of you!.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Natasha is the coolest person you know. Probably the coolest person most people will ever meet; if they have the privilege. So it is that you wonder how she’s your friend. It’s really too good to be true which is why you can’t help but feel a bit enamoured by her. 

It has to be real though. If you’re not friends, she wouldn’t invite you to her annual bonfire. A sacred tradition for her, or so you’ve heard. A gathering of all her closest friends. They are truly elite company. Not just your everyday schmucks, but The Avengers. 

You’re sure you’ll seem a bit lame walking up with your basket of pumpkin muffins home-made cider. Still, you were taught to always bring something with you. Though it does provide an obstacle to getting to the front door smoothly. 

You carry the large glass jug of cider by the metal handle as you hug the basket to your side. You struggle you hit the lock button on your keys and stop short as the cider sloshes around dangerously and throws your balance. As you try to correct yourself, footsteps scuff up behind you. 

“Need help?” The deep voice is like silk. 

You look over your shoulder, nearly tipping over as you do. The stranger manages to scoop up the basket before you tip it and you giggle in embarrassment. You sigh and let him take it from you. 

Oh, he’s not a stranger. Well, you know his name, even if you don’t know him. Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier. One of Natasha’s many high-profile friends. Again, you ask yourself how you ended up there. 

“Oop, thanks so much,” you say. “I should’ve made two trips.” 

“No problem,” he assures you. “You a friend of Nat’s?” 

“Uh, yeah,” you smile, turning back up the walk as he keeps stride with you. “New friend, I guess.” 

“Friend is a friend. She only keeps me around because I made friends with a string bean back in 1930.” He chuckles. 

“You mean--” You stop yourself and look away. You don't want to come off as a fangirl that quick. “Uh, well, we met at an event. She was teaching self-defense for the woman’s shelter.” 

“Oh, you work there?” He asks. 

You keep your eyes off of him, “I lived there. Not anymore.” 

“Ah, well, that’s good? You’re in a better place?” He asks. 

You nod, “much better.” You swallow and exhale. “I know who you are. You’re Bucky Barnes.” 

“I’m never gonna get used to that,” he scoffs. “Takes the excitement out of meeting new people.” 

“Oh, sorry, I...” you trail off before your nerves can break through.  

You don’t think Natasha would ever have become your friend if she knew you were such a geek about her other friends. Cap and Iron Man and even Thor. They were the real-life heroes that inspired you to be your own. And it was a poster of Steve Rogers himself that sparked the last fight that led to you leaving your ex. 

“It’s fine, so, do I get a name? Unfortunately, I don’t have the whole mind-reading thing going on,” he knocks on the heavy door as you shift the jug in your grip. You give your name as you peek over at him sheepishly. “These smell...” he lifts the basket and takes a whiff, “delicious.” 

“I hope they are. My first time using my apartment stove. It’s gas. I’m used to electric,” you explain. “Uh, pumpkin muffins, if that’s what you were asking. Sorry, I...” you turn to the door and rub your lips together, “if I’m honest, I’m super nervous.” 

“Nervous?” He echoes. “About?” 

“Well, I’m not the greatest with crowds. Especially since the shelter... ugh, I don’t know why I keep bringing that up.” You cringe, “but uh, just... new people. I guess.” 

“Ah,” he nods and teeters on his treads, knocking again, “damn it, Nat, what the hell are ya doin?” He grumbles. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m not really a people person either. The arm... it’s quite the ice breaker.” He sniffs, “I hate talking about the goddamn thing.” 

“Um, yeah, that would be... awkward,” you utter. 

The door opens before he can respond. You’re glad for it. You hadn’t thought about it but now all you can think of is if his arm has a built-in can opener. 

“Oh, he-eyyyy,” Natasha stutters as her eyes flit between you and Bucky, “you’re here. Both of you. At the same time?” 

“Uhhh, yeah,” you peek at Bucky. 

“Ran into each other a few steps back. You’re shit at introducing people, Natty.” 

She rolls her eyes and waves him off. She turns to you. “Wow, and what’s all this?” 

“I brought cider and--” 

“Muffins,” Bucky finishes for you as he lifts the basket higher. “I’m not much of a baker.” 

“Or a guest,” she retorts. “That’s so amazing, thank you.” She reaches to take the basket, “come on, I’ll show you around. Bucky, I think you already know where the litter box is.” 

Bucky tuts and shakes his head, “nice seeing you too.” He follows you in and faces you, “try to enjoy yourself. I know she’s a bit of a party pooper. Even if she is the host.” 

“With guests like you, how can I not be,” Natasha trills and beckons you onward, “don’t worry about your shoes. We’ll most be outside so I’ll do a full sweep and mop tomorrow.” She turns and struts away. 

Your eyes creep down her hour glass figure. You feel like a pervert as you do but you can’t help it. Even in a flannel and jeans, her body is perfect. The cowl neck of your red sweater and your corduroy feels a little less cute. 

“You made these yourself?” She asks as she leads you into a large kitchen.

There’s a square island with a hardwood top and matching counters and cupboards; the tile is burgundy with black iron accents. You marvel as you compare it in your head to your boxy apartment with the peeling laminate and squeaky faucets. 

“Uh, yeah,” you answer as you lift the jug of cider onto the counter. “Apple cider and pumpkin muffins.” 

“You are too sweet. I have to admit, I got catering for tonight. I'm no good in a kitchen,” she chuckles. “Lived off of Hydra rations for so long, I can’t do much more than open a can or vacuum seal.” 

“Oh, right. Nothing fancy,” you shrug. “You know, I just found the recipes online. Got some apples from the farmers’ market... I don’t know if it’s any good.” 

“I’m sure it’s all delicious. Bet the cider would be great with some whiskey,” her voice is smokey as she smirks. “Wanna put that theory to the test?” 

“Um, if you want. I’m okay either way.” 

“I won’t blame you if you need some liquid courage before facing the rest. Work friends can be a bit much,” she chuckles. “Besides, I have a bottle that’s been sitting in my cabinet for too long.” 

“Sure,” you accept, not wanting to be rude. And she’s right. You need something to take the edge off. 

She hums as she leaves the muffins next to the jug and she spins to the cupboard. She takes out two glasses that resemble jars and a dark bottle of liquor. You watch her put it all together with ice and a cinnamon stick to boot. 

“May as well get some before the rest devour it,” she slides a glass toward you and lifts the other, “cheers.” 

You smile and clink her glass. You taste it and your cheeks pinch. The cider is good but you can definitely taste the whiskey. You hold back a cough and cover your mouth. 

“I am just rewarming the hors d’oevres but if you want to wait, I can introduce you to everyone.” 

Heat roils from the oven as it glows from within and there are trays waiting for serving. She’s already put so much in. You don’t want to make her day even more strenuous. After all, she didn’t have to invite you. 

“No, it’s... you’re busy but if you need help.” 

“Don’t be crazy. You’re a guest. Go, enjoy the party. I’ll be out shortly. Everything’s mostly out there already.” 

“Okay, but um, I can take the muffins at least.” 

“Alright,” she agrees. 

You grab the basket and go to the door. You pause as you realise you don’t know where you’re going. Natasha laughs again. 

“Other way, back door is right on the other side of me,” she sweeps around the kitchen swiftly. 

“Right,” you turn back and cross the tile; one arm around the basket, your other hand cradling your glass. You push outside with your shoulder and step out onto the deck.  

There’s a long table of snacks as promised. You go to it and put down the basket as you dare to glance up at the guests speckled around the yard. Pairs and trios stand in the grass and around the already crackling fire. They all seem to know each other and you recognise quite a few of them. 

“Buns?” The question has you lurching in surprise as you face another partygoer. 

“Oh, uh, no, muffins,” you lift the lid to show the contents. “Pumpkin.” 

“Oooh,” the blond grins. The golden hair, the square jaw, broad shoulders; how could you mistake Captain America? “Can I try?” 

“Of course. I brought them for everyone,” you smile and tightly clutch your glass of cider. “You’re... Captain America.” 

“Ha, well, not here. I prefer Steve,” he takes out a muffin and peels away the liner. “And you’re... one of Xavier’s recruits?” 

“Xavier? Who—no. I’m...” you introduce yourself as he sinks his teeth in to the muffin. Your stomach flips. What if it’s bad? “Natasha’s friend. Erm, I guess that’s what we all are but nope, I’m just me. Just a... civilian?” 

He laughs, “just a civilian? Damn good baker. I don’t go for pumpkin often but this is amazing.” 

“Really?” You beam and bounce on your toes. 

“Oh, yeah--” 

“Save some for the rest of us, punk,” Bucky comes up from behind Steve. “Just like him to be chatting up the cutest girl at the party. What line did he use?” 

“Line? I’m just having a muffin,” Steve grimaces. 

“Mm, muffins,” Bucky reaches in front of his friend to claim a treat of his own, “was waiting on these.” 

He eyes your glass of cider and you take a sip. You pull your lips off the brim and gulp, “oh, the rest is inside if you want some.” 

“She made that too,” Bucky points at your cup. “Who knew Natasha had cool friends?” 

You giggle, “no, I’m not... just muffins.” 

“Good muffins,” Bucky says through a mouthful, “mmm.” 

“Might be good to hide them,” Steve remarks as he gives Bucky the side eye. 

“Hey, these two meatheads giving you trouble?” Another figure approaches from the back door. You turn as Tony stark flips up his dark sunglasses. He sports a red velvet jacket with collar popped. 

Bucky’s lips thin and Steve shakes his head, “you’re late,” the latter rebukes. 

“It’s a party, capsicle. Chill. Wait, don’t do that. We might not see you for another seventy years.” 

Steve scowls and takes another bite of his muffin. Bucky picks at his own and looks away. You nervously glance between them all. 

“Tony Stark,” the new arrival offers his hand, “but you already know that, don’t you, sweetheart? So who are you?” 

“Charming,” Steve comments. 

“It’s called getting to the point, Rogers. Some of us aren’t gonna wait around until they’re in the nursing home.” 

Steve growls and Bucky nudges him. The blond nods and looks at you, “I’ll see ya around.” 

“Sure,” you accept. Bucky waves with two fingers and follows Steve’s retreat. You turn back to Tony and shake his hand as you recite your name. “Nice to meet you.” 

“Natasha didn’t say this was a meet-cute,” he winks. 

“Ummm,” you glance around nervously. 

“Teasing ya. You look lost. You want the low-down on the dweebs,” he flicks his index towards the grass. “Now, you see, that kid right there, that’s Parker. His alias is top secret. For his safety. He might blurt it out anyway. And that’s his buddy Miles,” he points at to younger guests. “Someone should really separate them. We don’t need a mess.” 

He snickers and puts his arm around you as he moves you toward the top step of the deck, “and there’s the mighty God of Thunder. We all know the puppy dog, and then there’s his stray cat of a brother. Trust me, I tried to have him ejected into space but apparently, they can survive that.”

He tuts. “And there’s Bruce, good guy. When he’s calms. And Brock. Real question mark, that guy. Maria, Coulson, Sam, Strange; the better Steve if you ask me. And Wanda, her husband; I made him, his name is Vision but I guess Victor is more ‘human’.” 

He runs his hand up your arm as he pulls you closer, “there’s Charles, he prefers Professor, and his group of ragtag individuals. I could tell you their names but I’m already bored. Oh, except that one, the angry one with the swoopy hair. That’s Logan. Leave him alone. He’s even worse than the bozo with the vibranium arm. 

“Now, T’Challa has more important things to do so we don’t got anyone else worth mentioning,” he drags his hand down your sleeve then lets go, “I’m sure you’ll be tired of all of us before the night’s done. I assure you, heroes save people, not the vibe.” 

He clicks his tongue and jumps off the top step. You watch him strut off and you stare after him. There’s a lot more people than you expected. Familiar but still strangers.  

The only good thing is there’s more than enough guests for you to fade into the background. You’re tempted to go back in and offer to help Natasha. You know better than that. She always sees right through you. She’ll know immediately that you’re just hiding from social interaction. 

🔥

The night wears on into darkness. The large pit burns brightly as voices buzz and shadows waver. You stand watching the lick of flames, unnoticed amid the furor. Or so you think. 

“Hey, there’s cider left,” Bucky appears at your side, his sleeve brushing yours. “Got you a top up.” 

“Oh, that’s... nice.” You accept the glass as he holds another for himself. “You didn’t have to.” 

“You look... lonely. I don’t know. Felt bad. You went to all that trouble and you’re wading through this sea of people you don’t know.” He shrugs. “Hate these things myself. I just came ‘cause Nat asked. Well, she tells. You know, you can’t say no to her.” 

“Ha, yeah,” you agree. She isn’t just strong-willed, she’s intimidating. 

“I usually end up just drifting around until everyone’s distracted, then I dip,” he explains. “Or find somewhere quiet.” He quiets to take a sip, “how about it? Everyone’s out here, there’s a sofa up on the deck.” Your teeth chatter as you try to taste the cider, “and A blanket.” 

“Mm, it said it wasn’t supposed to get cold,” you look down embarrassed. You finally get a mouthful. It’s sweeter than before. Maybe because there’s no whiskey. 

“Huh, well, you don’t gotta hang out with a boring old man like me. Just figured I’d offer,” he says. 

“Thanks, that’s nice.” 

“Well, I can be nice when I want to,” he raises his glass slightly and turns away. 

As he marches off, you watch his back. Your eyes wander around. No one else even notices you. They’re all so wrapped up in each other. Even Natasha’s barely stopped to chat. 

“Wait,” you call after Bucky, “I could sit down.” 

He stops and turns as you scurry after him. The fire light flickers and limns the sharp angles of his face. He waits until your right beside him to continue on. 

“So, you already know what I do for work. What about you?” He asks as you climb the steps in tandem. 

“I’m a cashier,” you answer. “I work at a pet store.” 

“Hm, I like animals,” he leads you to the sofa. You can see the glow of the fire but the voices aren’t so raucous from up there. 

“Yeah, we mostly just have birds and hamsters there. Nothing very big. It’s a small place,” you explain. “I... It’s a new job.” You keep yourself from mentioning that the shelter helped you find it. It’s not really what you want to do forever, but it’s something. 

“Still, that’s nice. You get to help people in your own way. Make sure they can spoil their pet,” he leans back as he balances his glass over one knee and you drink deeply from your own. “I got a cat. Demanding. A bit abusive.” He laughs then chokes on it. “Jeez, I’m sorry. That was a bad joke.” 

You shake your head, “no, it’s not... really. I’m not upset.” 

“You sure?” He angles towards you. 

“Yeah, really. I can handle it,” you say. 

He nods and hums, “yeah, I’m sure you’ve dealt with worse than words.” 

You’re silent as you look down at the cup. You take another sip. He clears his throat as he shifts in the seat. He reaches back to put slide his phone from the back of his jeans. He leans forward to place it on the table. 

“Ugh,” he sits back. “Better.” 

You smile, “well, you don’t just work, do you? When did you get your cat?” 

“Oh, she just made herself at home really. It wasn’t exactly a conscious or willing choice,” he laughs. You fold one arm around your middle and shiver again. “Ah, where’s that blanket--” 

He reaches to the back of the couch and pulls down the blanket. It hits his glass and he loses grip of both. He huffs as he soaks the flannel in cider. 

“Damn,” he stands and holds out the sopping blanket before it can drip onto him or the couch. “Just like me. Hold on. I’ll go get another blanket and clean this up.” 

He untangles the cup from the blanket and sidles past you. You sit back silently as he heads for the back door. You glance over and consider sneaking over to the table to pick at the leftovers. Instead, you huddle down against another evening breeze.  

You finish all but a mouthful of side and reach to place it on the wooden table. His phone lights up and draws your attention. You blink as your eyes instinctively find the screen. You get a glimpse of the wallpaper right before it goes dark again. Huh? 

You shake off what you think you saw and the phone lights up again. You lean over and sink your teeth around the gasp that threatens to spill out. That can’t be. 

You check over your shoulder before you reach for the phone. You tap the side button and gape at your own image staring back at you. There’s a chat bubble floating on the front screen; new messages. You tap and expand the preview. It’s from Nat; ‘you find her?’ 

Your stomach sinks and you nearly drop the phone. The door opens and you quickly set it back down and sit back. You cross your arm and stare out at the other guests. Nothing can happen as long as you don’t leave. 

He comes back and you flinch as he drapes a blanket over you. He drops down onto the couch as he pulls it snug around your front. He drags his grip down the edges before he lets go. “Better?” 

“Mhmm,” you agree and blink. Your eyes feel dry. You reach up to rub them. 

“Really good cider. You’ll have to send me the recipe,” he insists. 

“Sure,” you slur and try to shake it off. “I’ll find the link...” you swallow and cough. You don’t feel right. You need some space to think. “I need to use the bathroom, one sec.” 

You try to stand but don’t even get your ass off of the sofa before you slump over. Your head crashes into Bucky’s shoulder. He opens his arm around you and rubs your back. He hushes you as you babble. 

“You’re okay, baby,” he rubs your back, “I got you.” 

You try to make a noise but you can’t. You can’t whine or whimper or scream. You can just squeak as he pushes you back up so you fall back against the arm. 

“I measured...” he says quietly. “You shouldn’t pass out.” 

You gurgle and lift your arm. It takes so much effort that it drops down like a bag a sand. The cider...

He shifts and stands, moving your leg behind him before he lowers himself back down. His hand rests on your thigh. His thumb presses into your soft flesh. 

“God, you’re so beautiful, doll,” he traces up and down the seam of your pants. “Absolutely gorgeous.” He runs his finger along your pelvis, making a vee back and forth, “soft and... warm.” 

“B--B—B--” you stutter. 

“The moment I saw you, I knew you needed me,” he moves even closer, his hand crawling up your stomach. “Whoever chased you into that place, he didn’t deserve you. You deserve better.” 

He moves carefully, lifting himself and twisting onto his knees. His hand glides back along your thigh as he folds it around him. You twitch but can’t do more than that. He bends and holds himself over you. 

He curls an arm under your head and nuzzles you. Your eyes roll back as you hide behind your eyelids. This can’t be real. What is he doing? How can he have photos of you on his phone? And that text... did Natasha set this up? Why would she do that? She’s your friend. 

“Look at me,” he growls. His voice is scary. Your eyes snap open and you groan. The tip of his nose rolls around yours. “God, you’re beautiful. Doll, I’m gonna take such good care of you.” He leans his pelvis against you as he presses down, “I’m going to keep you safe.” 

He tilts his hips until you feel his bulge against you. Your eyes round and you puff out a foggy breath. What is he doing? 

“Don’t look away,” he snarls as he slides his arm back and grips the back of your head. “Mmm, I just... I love the way you look at me. The way you feel beneath me.” He rasps as he rocks his hips steadily, “I can’t wait to have you on me, doll. To feel you on top of me. Around me. Mm, I wanna taste you so bad. 

“Mm, your chest,” he touches your tits, “your stomach, your hips,” his hand explores with his declaration and he hooks his hand under you, “your ass. All mine.” 

His coarse whispers tingle through you. What he says is nasty and wrong and yet it’s thrilling. Terrifying because you can do nothing to stop him. Defeating because all the people only feet away won’t either. 

[dixonsbrat]

could you write some fluff abt swimming with corio in the lake??

𖥔 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𖥔

summary ; you and coriolanus decide to visit the lake.

pairing ; coriolanus snow x fem!reader

notes ; nothing that i can think of, some kissing and a lot of fluff , spoilers for tbosas !

do not transfer, translate or share my work to any other sites.

with each breath, the worries and burdens of living in the districts seemed to melt away, replaced by a sense of peace that settled deep within your soul. the warm air filled your lungs as you inhaled deeply, both invigorating and calming at the same time. there was nothing quite like the peaceful embrace you felt walking through the woods, offering you solace in its own unique way, letting you feel its energy. 

the clearing was bathed in a bright glow, sunlight filtering through the gaps in the high trees that surrounded, while birds chirped their melodious tunes in the background. they were all that could be heard, other than the low trickles of water from the lake, and the crunching of leaves beneath your lover’s feet as he finally met your side. 

you turned towards him, your heart filling with anticipation and excitement as he closed the distance between you. the affectionate smile on his face mirrored the feelings coursing through your own veins.

“it’s so beautiful out here,” you hum, taking in another deep breath and letting your senses fill with that of the earth.

coriolanus wraps his arm around your shoulder, a sense of warmth and comfort. his closeness brings a small smile to your face, and you rest your head against his side as he breathes a soft “yeah.”

your heart flutters as his gaze locks with yours, drawing you in like a magnet. as the sunlight illuminates his features, casting a heavenly glow upon his face, you find yourself captivated by his radiant presence. his eyes, like vibrant gems, sparkle with a warmth that touches your very soul. 

you could get lost in them – in him – forever. 

scrunching your nose up at him, you give a playful push and head towards the start of the dock, dropping your bag packed with necessities for the day as you do. he follows in your footsteps, kicking off his boots and removing his socks swiftly, all while keeping his eyes fully trained on you. 

there was a boyish grin on his face, something you didn’t see often, but when you did, it filled you with the most unruly butterflies. it made you wish you could see it more, while breaking your heart a little bit at the same time that you didn’t. 

you waste no time in removing your own items of clothing and letting them fall to the ground in a messy pile, leaving coriolanus as you wait in the middle of the wooden path for him to meet your side once more. 

standing there, you can’t help but feel a sense of gratitude for these stolen moments of bliss. in a world that often felt overwhelming and suffocating, being able to share these memories with him feels like a precious gift.

you remember the countless secret rendezvous, the stolen glances while he was on duty, and the hidden touches that were filled with a mixture of excitement and fear. your love, forbidden by the laws of the capitol, had never felt so important. the mountains in the distance stand tall and proud, reminding you that there is so much more to this world than just constraints and limitations. the open field beyond the water stretches out endlessly, just like the endless possibilities that awaited. it was humbling to remember just how small you really were in the world. 

yet, at the same time, as coriolanus meets you again, his arms reaching to wrap around your chest, you can’t help but feel like you were right where you were meant to be. 

with that thought in mind, you take his hand, intertwining your fingers together, and let him take the lead the rest of the way, until your toes hang over the edge of the dock. he looks down at you, that same boyish grin still present, and gives you a wink before the two of you jump off the ledge.

as you hit the cool water, you feel exhilarated, a wave of freedom washing over you. the splashes and ripples create a symphony of sound that echoes in your ears, and as you resurface, you’re immediately greeted by coriolanus’ beaming smile. 

in the midst of the shimmering waves, you catch each other’s gaze and laughter bubbles up from within you both as you playfully splash water at one another. there’s a shared child-like joy that comes out of the friendly competition, but ultimately coryo is the one to give in, raising his arms up to surrender. 

your laughter fades away with the wind, leaving you both in a comfortable silence. a silence that doesn’t need to be filled, nor do you want it to be. the two of you meet in the middle, your legs guiding you to wrap about his waist, as his hand meets the side of your face. 

you lean into the touch, and despite the cool water, you can still feel the warmth of his palm against your skin. his fingers gently stroke your cheek, tracing invisible patterns, and his touch lingers for a moment, filled with tenderness. you close your eyes, wanting to savour the intimacy of it. “you know,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a mixture of affection and what you could only pinpoint to be mischief, “i never expected to find someone like you in my life.”

you open your eyes to meet his gaze, a soft smile playing on your lips. “i feel the same way,” you admit. “i never could have imagined that i’d fall for someone like you, and yet here we are.”

coriolanus' gaze grows tender as his eyes bore into you now. “we may be different, but that’s what makes us so perfect for each other.”

a surge of emotions courses through you like a tidal wave and your lips finally meet. the sensations that had built up inside now overflow, causing you to release all inhibitions. the kiss becomes a catalyst for the intense feelings you were harbouring for the boy before you. 

his hand gently grazes the back of your neck and shivers rolls down your spine. the kiss deepens, filled with desire, longing, a reassuring promise that no one could ever break you apart. 

reluctantly, you have to pull away, the need for oxygen playing an undeniable factor. you don’t move far, your foreheads lingering together as your chests heave, and you catch your breaths. you smile, your heart racing, as you reach out to brush your fingers against his cheek now. you both stay in the water for a while longer, enjoying each other’s company and the tranquillity of the lake. 

there was an enigmatic force that kept pulling you together, and you may not know what the future held or where life in panem would take you both, but one thing you knew for sure was that coriolanus was yours, and you were his. 

[theemissuniverse]

FLIRTY INTROS MK MALE CHARACTERS X GODDESS!READER

SUMMARY : Flirty intros with reader that’s Goddess reader. Reader is goddess of sexual love and beauty. Raiden and Fujin are her younger brothers. This is based off MK 11. If this gets enough likes I’ll do women

ABOUT CHARACTER : (Y/N) is able to put people under love spells. It is also hinted that when she has sex with warriors, she gains their power. (Y/N)’s beauty makes her very conceited and flirtatious than from the other Gods. (Y/N) is good neutral. This means she is mainly good but works with villains. She also has glowing tattoos along her body that symbol love and sexual freedom.

CHARACTERS: Liu Kang, Kano, Kung Lao, Kabal, Johnny Cage, Erron Black, Shao Kahn, Noob Saibot, Scorpion, Sub-Zero, Jax, Geras, Nightwolf, Kotal Kahn, Shang Tsung, Kollector, Baraka, Raiden & Fujin (obviously brother and sister banter for them)

LIU KANG VS (Y/N)

(Y/N) : I can feel the sexual tension between us, monk

Liu Kang : I find you very beautiful Lady (Y/N)

(Y/N) : You’ll find out the rest of me is soon enough

(Y/N) : Ever lay down with a goddess?

Liu Kang : It was never really on the bucket list

(Y/N) : Well add it and then check it off

(Y/N) : Kitana is such a bore

Liu Kang : Then who’s more interesting?

(Y/N) : Look right in front of you

(Y/N) : My brother was right in choosing you

Liu Kang : I’ll honor him for his decision

(Y/N) : Honor me instead

(Y/N) : Hello, gorgeous

Liu Kang : Are you flirting with me, Lady (Y/N)?

(Y/N) : Just wanted to compliment you before I destroy that beautiful face

KUNG LAO VS (Y/N)

Kung Lao : If I win, you have to let me take you on a date

(Y/N) : If I win, you have to go down on me

Kung Lao : So I win either way?

Kung Lao : Double date with Liu Kang and Kitana?

(Y/N) : You could not handle a woman like me

Kung Lao : Oh I think I can

(Y/N) : You’re quite handsome

Kung Lao : And you’re quite beautiful

(Y/N) : Such a shame I’ll have to ruin that pretty face

(Y/N) : You’ll be one of the first I breed with

Kung Lao : *chuckles* Of course

(Y/N) : Confidence is a trait all my children will share

(Y/N) : Are you jealous of the chemistry I share with Liu Kang?

Kung Lao : Hardly. You know you are mine

(Y/N) : Oh am I?

KANO VS (Y/N)

Kano : Aren’t you lovely to look at

(Y/N) : You can look but you can’t touch

Kano : I like me a challenge

Kano : You know, you don’t act high and mighty like the other Gods

(Y/N) : Is that a turn on for you, Kano?

Kano : Very much

(Y/N) : You’re loyal only to yourself

Kano : I got some loyalty to fit you in, love

(Y/N) : I will make you the most loyal of them all

Kano : So are you the dominant or submissive one?

(Y/N) : I’m the one that puts you in the ground

Kano : I’m feeling you’re more like a switch

Kano : Hello, baby. You miss me?

(Y/N) : Maybe. Did you miss me?

Kano : A lot, lovely

KABAL VS (Y/N)

Kabal : You got me under some spell, babe?

(Y/N) : You are not worthy for that kind of witchcraft

Kabal : Well damn

Kabal : Screwing me wont make you faster

(Y/N) : Actually that is precisely how it works

Kabal : Ah, shit

Kabal : You’re cute when you dress in all white

(Y/N) : You’re cute when you keep your mouth shut

Kabal : Ha. Got you to admit I’m cute

(Y/N) : Are you prepared to die Black Dragon?

Kabal : Not gonna lie. That voice is sexy

(Y/N) : It will be the last thing you hear

(Y/N) : Kneel before your goddess

Kabal : Not gonna lie, that’s tempting

(Y/N) : Cute

GERAS VS (Y/N)

Geras : Beauty will not save you

(Y/N) : So you admit you find me beautiful?

Geras : *sighs*

Geras : I have never seen a God full of themself before

(Y/N) : It is merely fact that I am better than the rest

Geras : It is truly a wonder

Geras : I am immune to all your powers

(Y/N) : As if I need them against you

Geras : Making a grave mistake

(Y/N) : Kronika’s minion

Geras : My purpose is more than you know

(Y/N) : I do not care for your purpose

Geras : In the New Era, you will be more humble

(Y/N) : Is that apart of your imagination?

Geras : Soon will be reality

JOHNNY CAGE VS (Y/N)

(Y/N) : Johnathan Carlton

Johnny : Ooh. Not the government. What’d I do?

(Y/N) : Practicing for when I scream it

(Y/N) : Are you always this insufferable?

Johnny : Come on. You know you like me

(Y/N) : Like is a very strong word

Johnny : Why are goddesses always so hot?

(Y/N) : I am the only goddess you know of

Johnny : Well yeah. Still hot

Johnny : Flowers or chocolates?

(Y/N) : Neither, Earthrealmer

Johnny : How bout me?

(Y/N) : You couldn’t handle a goddess

Johnny : I beat Shinnok. I think I got this

(Y/N) : I still cannot believe that happened

ERRON BLACK VS (Y/N)

(Y/N) : You know that gun won’t kill me

Erron : You don’t like a little foreplay?

(Y/N) : As if you can get there with me

Erron : What I gotta do to prove I like you?

(Y/N) : Kneel before me

Erron : I got no problem getting on my knees for you

Erron : Fighting a pretty lady just ain’t my style

(Y/N) : Then maybe we should find another way to get physical

Erron : You ain’t gotta tell me twice

Erron : Women with tattoos are always hot

(Y/N) : I will make you regret even breathing

Erron : Yeah, still hot

(Y/N) : How much is on my head?

Erron : More than a lifetime

(Y/N) : How disappointing you’ll lose out on the money

FUJIN VS (Y/N)

Fujin : Stay away from Shao Kahn, sister

(Y/N) : He wouldn’t dare to harm me

Fujin : You think that

Fujin : Raiden and I are only trying to look out for you, sister

(Y/N) : I’m the older sister, Fujin

Fujin : You sure don’t act like it

Fujin : Shang Tsung will say anything to have your soul

(Y/N) : I am aware, brother

Fujin : Then why are you bonded to him?

(Y/N) : When will you and Raiden admit that I’m the better one?

Fujin : When hell freezes over

(Y/N) : I guess Sub-Zero will have to take a trip down in the Netherrealm

(Y/N) : You and Raiden don’t know how to have fun

Fujin : You’re just a childish, spoiled, god

(Y/N) : I know you are but what am I?

SHAO KAHN VS (Y/N)

Shao Kahn : Join my concubines

(Y/N) : *laughs* You could not handle all of this, Shao Kahn

Shao Kahn : You will bend to me eventually

(Y/N) : Sindel is a catastrophic bore

Shao Kahn : A bold statement

(Y/N) : An accurate statement

Shao Kahn : You are far too beautiful for me to believe you are Raiden’s sister

(Y/N) : It is something I haven’t found the pleasure in bragging about

Shao Kahn : Let me take you away from that fool

Shao Kahn : A woman like you belongs with a man like me

(Y/N) : How so Shao Kahn?

Shao Kahn : Our power combined will be beyond imaginable

Shao Kahn : Kung Lao is not worthy of your affection

(Y/N) : And you are?

Shao Kahn : I will break his neck again

RAIDEN VS (Y/N)

Raiden : I believe Nightwolf is interested in you

(Y/N) : No overprotective speech brother?

Raiden : Out of all the suitors, he is most worthy

Raiden : Stay away from, Liu Kang

(Y/N) : He is not just your chosen one

Raiden : I do not need him distracted right now

Raiden : Sister

(Y/N) : The non fun brother

Raiden : Here we go again with this

Raiden : The Black Dragon are not to be trusted

(Y/N) : I know this, brother

Raiden : So stop hanging around Kano and Kabal

(Y/N) : You’ve let rage consume you completely

Raiden : I do it to protect Earthrealm

(Y/N) : Some protection you are

NOOB SAIBOT VS (Y/N)

Noob Saibot : Such beauty like yourself is rare

(Y/N) : Are you flirting with me, shadow?

Noob Saibot : I will bring you to death to live in your beauty for eternity

Noob Saibot : I’ve been looking for you

(Y/N) : Looks like I am found

Noob Saibot : Come with me

Noob Saibot : The shadows yearn for your touch

(Y/N) : They cannot have me

Noob Saibot : Yet

Noob Saibot : Death clings to your embrace

(Y/N) : Only for you Bi-Han, I will grant it

Noob Saibot : That is all I want

Noob Saibot : Join me in death

(Y/N) : Not happening

Noob Saibot : I’d hate to do this the hard way

SCORPION VS (Y/N)

(Y/N) : I like men that have fire

Scorpion : I will not entertain your advances

(Y/N) : A fireball fool rejects me?

(Y/N) : I think my sign is a Scorpio

Scorpion : Why does that matter?

(Y/N) : Ugh. You are so difficult to flirt with

(Y/N) : Takahashi Takeda is your best student. I bet he’d be great at other things

Scorpion : You will stay away from him

(Y/N) : Jealous Hanzo?

Scorpion : You are playing with fire

(Y/N) : Aren’t you the expert in that?

Scorpion : Playing with a man’s emotions will cost you

Scorpion : I will not indulge in your pyromaniac fantasies

(Y/N) : It’s almost as if you can read my thoughts

Scorpion : A goddess and a scorpion will not work

SUB-ZERO VS (Y/N)

(Y/N) : It’s getting a little hot in here

Sub-Zero : What does that have to do with me?

(Y/N) : Sorry. That line was for Scorpion

(Y/N) : I bet you’re good with your hands

Sub-Zero : I can show you in Kombat

(Y/N) : Please. Demonstrate

(Y/N) : Frost is a lost cause

Sub-Zero : There might be hope for her

(Y/N) : The hope is shattered

(Y/N) : So cold I feel goosebumps

Sub-Zero : You will feel more than that

(Y/N) : Are you speaking of kombat or something else?

(Y/N) : You are in the presence of greatness

Sub-Zero : That I am

(Y/N) : Now submit

SHANG TSUNG VS (Y/N)

Shang Tsung : (Y/N)

(Y/N) : Stay away from my brothers

Shang Tsung : Yes. We should keep this between us

Shang Tsung : Come closer

(Y/N) : What will you do if I don’t?

Shang Tsung : You cannot resist me for long

Shang Tsung : Liu Kang admires you well

(Y/N) : Of course the chosen one does

Shang Tsung : He cannot admire you for long

(Y/N) : You cannot have my soul, sorcerer

Shang Tsung : I was thinking of something else

(Y/N) : *laughs* You are not worthy of that

(Y/N) : You have affections for Sonya?

Shang Tsung : Am I sparking something in you, goddess?

(Y/N) : Just can’t believe you’d be interested in someone so boring

JAX VS (Y/N)

(Y/N) : Well aren’t you easy on the eyes

Jax : Is a goddess really flirting with me?

(Y/N) : Very much so

(Y/N) : You and I keep crossing paths

Jax : I’m not complaining

(Y/N) : I bet you’re not

Jax : There ain’t nothing more attractive than a goddess

(Y/N) : You flatter me, Jax

Jax : I can do more than that

Jax : So how many rounds can you go?

(Y/N) : With my power? About ten

Jax : You know I’m talking about Kombat right?

(Y/N) : Put those arms to use, Briggs

Jax : And do exactly what, (Y/N)

(Y/N) : You know what

KOLLECTOR VS (Y/N)

(Y/N) : Low life thief

Kollector : I will steal what is left of you when I am finished

(Y/N) : You’ll never have all of me

Kollector : You are the true embodiment of a goddess

(Y/N) : Yes, I know

Kollector : I will break you apart and sell your parts

(Y/N) : To what do I owe the displeasure

Kollector : The Kahn wants you

(Y/N) : If he wants me then he can come get me himself

Kollector : Pretty girl

(Y/N) : Ugh. You

Kollector : You will regret your distaste

Kollector : And what do we have here?

(Y/N) : Someone worth more than your life

Kollector : We’ll see about that

BARAKA VS (Y/N)

(Y/N) : Baraka

Baraka : Shao Kahn’s concubine

(Y/N) : Ha. He wishes

(Y/N) : Creature

Baraka : Submit to the Tarkata

(Y/N) : My standards aren’t low enough for you

(Y/N) : Keep looking, Baraka

Baraka : You are not all that, goddess

(Y/N) : How dare you!

Baraka : Face me in kombat

(Y/N) : You must have a death wish

Baraka : My wish is for you to die

Baraka : You are unworthy for the tarkata

(Y/N) : You dare call a goddess unworthy?

Baraka : Rightfully so

KOTAL KAHN VS (Y/N)

(Y/N) : Kotal Kahn

Kotal Kahn : You will stay away from Jade

(Y/N) : I can make you forget all about her

(Y/N) : You are Kahn no more

Kotal Kahn : Kitana takes my place

(Y/N) : Which means you are unworthy

Kotal Kahn : Shao Kahn only brings out destruction

(Y/N) : You’re no more innocent than he is

Kotal Kahn : The innocents are damned

(Y/N) : Why do all men fancy boring women?

Kotal Kahn : Jade is not boring

(Y/N) : Your heart desires for a common assassin

Kotal Kahn : You are truly breathtaking (Y/N)

(Y/N) : I do not need a fallen Kahn to remind me of that

Kotal Kahn : But your mouth is ugly

NIGHTWOLF VS (Y/N)

(Y/N) : Be on your guard, Nightwolf

Nightwolf : You really are stunning

(Y/N) : Yes. And deadly

(Y/N) : My brother claims that you are interested in me

Nightwolf : I um..that is interesting

(Y/N) : Don’t turn back on me now

Nightwolf : I’ve never met anyone like you

(Y/N) : *chuckles* Are you flirting with me, Nightwolf?

Nightwolf : Would that bother you, my Goddess?

(Y/N) : Are you going to let me win like you let Scorpion win?

Nightwolf : I would never pose kombat on you, Goddess

(Y/N) : Shame. I like being wrestled to the ground

Nightwolf : We shouldn’t fight

(Y/N) : This is merely an exercise

Nightwolf : I will prove I am worthy, Lady (Y/N)

A/N: I hope you guys liked this. It took me a long time to make