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jupiterpilgrim · 2 months ago

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The Pleasure Equation: When the Nerd Solves Everything, Including You

Nayeon x Male Reader

word count: 8.2k

a/n: Yo, my first published smut. I hope you like it. Feel free to tell me what you think.

—

You're lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling and wondering why, in the 21st century, universities still think pairing people for projects is a good idea. Plus, you're terrible at this subject. Advanced Calculus? They might as well call it "How to Ruin My Weekend." The only saving grace is that your partner, Nayeon, the biggest nerd in class, will handle most of it. For you, it seems like a golden ticket: she does the work, and you pretend you helped. It was the perfect plan. What could go wrong?

The doorbell rings. Of course, it’s her. You were expecting it—you could almost time Nayeon's nerdy punctuality. And, as always, she looks like the picture-perfect good girl—cardigan, glasses, skirt, that innocent, serious air of someone more interested in spreadsheets than in people. The kind of girl most guys wouldn't look at twice. But you, well, you had to look. It was obligatory since she was going to carry your weight in this project.

You open the door, and there she is, laptop under her arm, shy smile and everything you imagined. The nerd who's here to save your semester.

What you didn’t know—and God knew you were about to find out—is that Nayeon had planned a different type of study for this project.

She walks in with that confident stride that only people who are either extremely smart or who know the subject is your lifeline have. And honestly, you’re not ready for the energy she brings.

“Hi,” she says, glancing around your house, skipping any small talk.

“Hey, Nayeon. Nice to have you here.” You try to sound more enthusiastic than you really are. “Want anything? Water, juice, tea?” you offer, hoping to buy yourself a few more minutes of procrastination before facing the project.

“No, thanks.” She looks at you over her glasses, almost as if she’s analyzing your soul. “I think we should just get started. The sooner we finish, the better.”

“Yeah, better,” you think. And with that, off you go to your bedroom. Yes, the bedroom, because it’s the only place in the house that seems even remotely presentable. There are piles of books (that you haven’t read, just skimmed for the basics), notebooks with ridiculously short notes you took, some clothes scattered here and there... oh, and your unmade but perfectly comfortable bed, where you sit on the edge. It was a clinically tidy room compared to the living room or the kitchen.

Nayeon doesn't seem to care about anything. She sits at the desk chair and opens her laptop.

The project, of course, is about "Modeling Algebraic Functions for the Optimization of Industrial Processes." Or something equally mind-numbing that only Nayeon seems to understand. You’re more lost than someone trying to solve a Rubik's cube in the dark. And it’s all because of your dad, who, in his non-threatening way, persuaded you to follow the family career path. Damn Engineering (and tradition).

Nayeon, as always, is already deep into the work, fingers flying over the keyboard while her glasses slip to the tip of her nose, balancing dangerously between focused nerd and, well... ¿sexy? nerd?

Not that you’d admit that.

She glances at you, and for a second, you almost feel like she expects you to say something useful. Which, of course, would be a grave miscalculation. Literally.

“So, I thought you could start with the part about differential equations,” she says, making the suggestion with the ease of someone asking you to hold a cup, when what she’s really offering is a grand piano. “And then the graphs…”

You pretend to be genuinely interested. Which means nodding in a way that could be mistaken for understanding if someone looked quickly, but in reality, you're utterly lost.

“Oh, sure, differential equations…” you repeat, as if the words held any special meaning. They don’t.

Nayeon sighs and goes back to typing, clearly aware of the level of uselessness you're operating at. She’s probably already mentally dividing the entire project, calculating how many extra hours she'll need to cover for the fact that you're, essentially, dead weight.

“Maybe you could review the introduction,” she suggests, polite but with the patience of someone talking to a child who still doesn’t know the difference between shapes.

You scratch your head, pretending to read the introduction she’s already written. One, two lines. Everything looks very... professional. You attempt to seem helpful:

“You know, I think you’re... um... doing great with this. Maybe... maybe I should focus more on the creative part of the project, like... the presentation design?” you suggest, smiling, as if making a PowerPoint full of silly animations was an undervalued talent in academia.

She raises an eyebrow.

“Design?” Nayeon asks, sarcasm dripping from her tone. “In an Advanced Calculus project? You want to fill the presentation with glitter and stars, is that it?”

“Hey, glitter makes everything better,” you reply, defensive, but unable to suppress a smile. “Maybe throw in some memes to lighten the mood… People love memes... I guess.”

“I’m not sure if you're joking or if you've completely given up on life,” Nayeon mutters, with a short, dry laugh, returning to the keyboard.

You shift on the bed, trying to find a position that seems less like a desperate student and more like someone slightly focused on the project. The silence is broken only by the sound of her typing and your occasional murmur of fake approval: “Hmm, sure, that makes sense…”

It doesn’t.

Then, out of nowhere, Nayeon looks at you again, but this time with a different kind of curiosity. There’s something in her eyes, something that goes beyond pure calculation—and we’re not talking about the equations.

“You live alone, right?” The question comes casually, almost innocently. Almost.

“Uh, yeah, I do,” you answer, a bit confused by the sudden shift. “Why?”

“Just... curious,” she replies, but the smile she gives is far from innocent. “It must be nice living alone. I bet you can do whatever you want, right? No one around to hear...”

“Yeah, kind of,” you say, scratching the back of your neck. “Like... I can have pizza for breakfast without being judged. And play video games late. It’s not as glamorous as it sounds.”

Nayeon laughs, but in a way that makes you feel a bit uncomfortable, like she knows something you don’t.

“And... what do you mean by ‘do whatever you want’?” you ask, hesitant but unable to resist the curiosity.

“Oh, nothing,” she says, looking away for a second. “Just thinking... it must be interesting. Having that kind of freedom.”

She pauses and looks directly at you again, her fingers sliding slowly across the keyboard, as if the project was now the last thing on her mind.

“Tell me something... what’s your type?” The question lands like a stone thrown into a calm lake, sending ripples of confusion through you.

You almost choke.

“My... type?” you repeat, as if it’s a math problem with too many variables.

“Yeah, like... what do you find attractive in someone?” Nayeon continues, her voice far too casual for the situation. She leans forward slightly, her eyes locked on yours.

“Well, I dunno.” You shift uncomfortably. “I guess... someone fun, you know? Someone who can make me laugh.”

“Hmm. And me?” Nayeon tilts her head, her glasses now low enough to reveal her sharp eyes behind them. “Do I make you laugh?”

You freeze, because the right answer to this feels like a trap.

Sure, Nayeon’s made you laugh plenty of times, especially when she freaks out over losing half a point on a test. But that doesn’t seem like the kind of "laugh" she’s asking about.

“Uh, yeah, of course!” you respond, quickly. “I mean, in a good way. Not that I’m laughing *at* you, but... you know what I mean, right?”

She smiles, and you’re not sure if she’s satisfied with your answer or just amused by your nervousness.

“You know,” Nayeon continues, “I think I prefer guys who... know what they want. Guys with attitude.”

You nod, trying to process what’s happening.

“Oh, sure. Attitude is always good, right?” you reply, having no idea where this conversation is heading.

She looks at you in a way that feels almost predatory, and you realize that, somehow, whatever control you thought you had over this situation (even a little) now belongs entirely to her.

“Do you have it?” she asks. “Attitude?”

At that moment, you realize two things: first, Nayeon isn’t interested in solving differential equations today. And second, you probably should’ve agreed to do the graphs.

You feel the pressure of the question like a multiple-choice exam where all the answers seem wrong.

"Now?" you stammer, as if time itself is about to collapse. "Uh… I don’t know, I think we’re in the middle of a project, right? I wouldn’t want to interrupt…"

"Interrupt?" She lets out a short laugh. "I think work went out the window a long time ago, don’t you?"

With that, she stands up, closing the laptop, and starts walking slowly around the room, as if inspecting the space, or maybe just teasing you on purpose. Every step she takes seems more choreographed than anything you’ve ever seen on stage.

Suddenly, she stops, untying her hair and shaking it loose.

"You know," she continues, turning her gaze back to you, "I thought of a way to make things more interesting."

Your brain, of course, is already in full panic mode, but your mouth, as always, insists on trying to sound casual.

"Really? Interesting how?" you ask, hoping the answer isn’t something like "Russian roulette."

She crosses her arms. You realize that, at some point, you completely lost any chance of controlling your own fate.

"A game," Nayeon says, with a sly smile. "Let’s play a game. What do you say?"

"What kind of game?" you ask, already regretting letting curiosity win over survival instinct.

"Oh, don’t worry, nothing too crazy," she replies, shrugging as if the suggestion were perfectly innocent. "Something fun, to relax, since the project clearly isn’t going anywhere today."

She steps closer to you, with that conspiratorial air of someone about to suggest something really dangerous.

"What do you think?" she whispers, lowering her voice. "You up for playing with me?"

"Err... depends on the game, right?" you reply, trying to sound laid-back.

Her eyes gleam behind her glasses, and the smile on her lips is pure provocation.

"Let’s see… How about something simple?" she suggests, her eyes never leaving yours. "Questions and answers. To test what you've been learning in the course."

"Just that?" you ask, half skeptical, half curious.

She speaks with a lightness that contrasts the intensity of her proposal:

"Of course not. For every question you get right, I’ll take off a piece of clothing."

You blink. Blink again. And then a third time, just to make sure you heard correctly.

"What?" you blurt out, a laugh escaping before you can control it. "You’re kidding, right?"

Nayeon crosses her arms, that crafty smile still on her face. Apparently, she’s not kidding.

"I’m dead serious. And if you manage to make me take off everything, I’ll give you a prize."

"A prize?" You try to keep your composure, but all you can think about is that maybe studying Calculus isn’t so bad after all. "What kind of prize?"

Nayeon doesn’t respond with words. Instead, she lifts her skirt just enough to reveal a glimpse of her panties — white, of course, because even in this, she has to be precise and teasing.

You swallow hard, your eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. Suddenly, the temperature in the room rises by five degrees, and it has nothing to do with global warming.

"Hm... okay, let’s go," you respond, trying to sound casual, but in reality, your mind is a complete mess. Who knew the class nerd had this side to her?

"Great." Nayeon giggles before adjusting her glasses and kicking off her shoes to, let’s say, get more comfortable. "First question: What’s the basic principle of algebraic function modeling applied to industrial process optimization?"

You stare at her. Of course, it wasn’t going to be an easy game. Your brain tries, with herculean effort, to remember what the hell that means.

"Hm… I think… it’s using equations to simplify a complex process?" you guess.

She smiles.

"Well, close enough. You got the general concept," she says.

She starts with the most innocent pieces, of course. The cardigan that you barely noticed she was wearing, because let’s be honest, your focus was more on the project — or on how not to do it... Well, at least that’s what you thought. Now, the focus has definitely changed. Every button that opens feels like a small personal victory. And before you know it, the cardigan is on the floor. She looks at you with a sly smile.

"Shall we continue?"

"Damn right, I’m enjoying this!"

"How do you define an improper integral?"

You blink. Of course, she’d come up with one of those questions you never knew the answer to.

"An… improbable integral?"

She laughs, a clear, almost musical sound that fills the room. If Nayeon were the type of person who enjoyed academically torturing others, she was definitely on the right track.

"I’ll give you a hint," she leans forward, just enough for you to see part of the top underneath her perfectly white blouse. "It has something to do with limits."

Limits. Of course. Yours are being tested in a different way. You vaguely remember the professor mentioning something about this, between naps.

"Oh, right! It’s when the interval goes to infinity, right?" you venture, your heart already beating faster.

"Correct!" She claps her hands, feigning innocent excitement that definitely doesn’t match the way her hands move toward the buttons of her blouse. One button, two, three... and soon, Nayeon’s blouse is off, revealing a black camisole, tight enough to show that she had planned all of this meticulously.

You exhale a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. Now, you’re invested in the game.

"Next question: What are the three most common methods to solve a system of linear equations?"

Linear equations? Of course, you slept through that class. But then… things start to click.

"Elimination, substitution, and… matrices."

"You’re getting the hang of it, huh?" she says, her voice almost a purr.

Without hesitation, she leans back a little and, with a slow, sensual gesture, removes the black camisole, now revealing a delicate white bra, almost the same shade as her skin.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, but somehow, you’re starting to enjoy the game, and oddly enough, math too. Well, this is definitely a more rewarding way to learn something you don’t like.

"Now an easier one," she teases, as if giving you a break. "How do you calculate the area under a curve?"

You swallow hard, not because of the question, but because Nayeon is crossing her arms in a way that’s far from casual, emphasizing even more what’s... well, on display.

"Definite integrals," you answer quickly, perhaps with more enthusiasm than necessary.

She gives a small round of applause, but this time doesn’t make any immediate move to take off anything else.

"Very good! But... are you sure you want to continue?" she asks, tilting her head, as her fingers rest on the zipper of her skirt.

You’re not sure if you want to continue the game or skip straight to the “prize,” but whatever it is, you need this girl naked. But for that you need to concentrate, but how would you do it? It's certainly not easy. Not when she runs her fingers, provocatively slow, to the zipper of her skirt.

“Alright, just one more, then,” she says, with a false lightness that only adds to the tension in the air, “a simpler one, I promise. If you get it right, I’ll take off one more piece. If you get it wrong… the game’s over.”

Your mind is racing, a mix of nerves and pure curiosity. After all, how did you end up here, being quizzed by Nayeon, The Nerd™? And now, The Nerd™ was about to strip.

Weird world.

“Okay… ask the question,” you say, trying to seem calm. Just trying.

Nayeon raises an eyebrow, still toying with the zipper of her skirt, but not pulling it down at all, just… waiting. “What’s Stokes' theorem?” she asks.

You almost laugh. Not really, more like a nervous chuckle that escapes before you realize… crap, you actually don’t remember.

“Erm…” you begin, desperately searching for some vague memory of a class you definitely slept through.

Nayeon doesn’t miss the look of panic on your face.

“Ah, struggling?” she asks, her voice sweetly sadistic. “How about a hint?” She leans in, the skirt still untouched, but in a deliberate move, she adjusts her bra, already more revealing than it should be, giving you a clear view of her generous cleavage.

You clear your throat, dying a little inside but trying to maintain your composure.

“Uh, it has to do with surface integrals, right? Something about flows… and vectors…”

“Exactly! Flows and vectors,” she repeats, satisfied. And then, in an almost innocent gesture, as if she were merely taking off an uncomfortable shoe after a long day, she pulls the zipper of the skirt, which slides down her legs, hitting the floor like it didn’t even matter, revealing her bare legs and white panties. Her thighs are even more perfect than you imagined—toned, lightly defined. Your throat dries up as if you’ve just run a marathon, but the only thing racing is your heart.

Honestly, you’re never really prepared for every time she gets more and more exposed. She places a hand on her hip, looking at you with that expression that makes you wonder how you never realized this before—that yes, Nayeon, the “nerd” of the class, was a girl far more complex than any Stokes theorem.

“So, what now? Want to continue or… are you satisfied?” She pouts adorably, challenging you, and you know, at that moment, that she wants you to keep going. After all, she’s having way too much fun.

You take a deep breath, determined, even though your mind is light-years away from any coherent thought.

“Sure. Next question. I’m going to win my prize.”

“What a determined guy,” Nayeon chuckles softly, with that teasing air, as if you were on a quiz show and not in some sort of erotically torturous strip game for the brave. “Alright then… explain the principle of superposition.”

She knew you had no idea. You knew that she knew. But what did it matter? What mattered was that your eyes were glued to every movement she made. She tilted her head, playing with the strap of her bra.

You think for a moment. Superposition… electric fields… sure, you got this.

“It’s when, hmm…” your voice cracks, but you force yourself to sound confident. “It’s when the sum of the effects of multiple causes is equal to the sum of the individual causes. Each field acts like the others aren’t even there.”

She leans in, subtly, fiddling with the strap of her bra, her eyes never leaving yours.

“Exactly,” she says, letting the strap fall with a slow motion from one shoulder. And then, from the other. “Congratulations.”

The bra falls to the floor.

You try, honestly try, to keep your focus on what’s happening, but there’s a problem. Actually, two, and both of them are right in front of you, fully exposed. No matter how much your mind insists that you need to concentrate on the game… you simply can’t.

“J-just one more question, right?” You stammer, desperately trying to focus on your shoes, the wall, anything but… well, Nayeon, and the fact that she was now practically naked.

She leans forward slightly, arms “casually” crossed, and you’re convinced she did this just to make sure your brain imploded. One of her breasts lightly brushes against her arm, and your mind screams something between HELP and THANK YOU.

"Exactly,” she says, and there’s a hint of malice in her voice, that tone that indicates she knows by now you’re one step away from a complete meltdown. “One last question. If you get it right… you win your prize. If you get it wrong… you’ll do the entire project alone.”

Your head throbs, struggling to focus on anything besides her smooth skin and the hair falling loosely over her shoulders.

“Alone?” you repeat, dumbfounded. A simple word, but you can barely get it out.

She bites her lip, enjoying herself. And then, in the most seductive voice possible, she drops the bomb:

“Of course… if you mess up now in the final minutes, you’ll have to do it all on your own. But if you get it right, you’ll see what’s under this,” she pulls at the side of her white panties slightly, just enough to let your imagination spin. “And who knows what else…” Her voice is a caress wrapped in pure temptation.

Yeah, it’s worth the risk.

Focus, you tell yourself, as if that’s remotely possible. Here you are, in a state of complete mental confusion, and Nayeon is there, almost naked, suggesting there’s just one question left before… well, paradise. And hell, too, because clearly, you wouldn’t survive doing this fucked-up project alone.

“Alright, let’s go,” you force the words out. “What’s the last question?”

Nayeon smiles in a way that says, I got you. And of course, she did. She leans in again, this time closer, her panties still firmly in place, but for how long?

“Ready for this?” she murmurs, with the tone of a final temptation. “What law of electromagnetism describes the relationship between the circulation of a magnetic field along a closed path and the electric current passing through the surface enclosed by that path?”

You freeze. Your mind is almost there, trying to grab the answer from some corner not focused on the fact that Nayeon is practically naked in front of you.

“Uh…” you begin, Nayeon sways her hips as she waits. “It’s… it’s…” you struggle. Nothing. Your mind is completely blank, a screen of static.

Nayeon sighs, as if she’s genuinely disappointed. Of course she’s not. She’s having way too much fun for that.

“Need a hint?” she offers, with a smile as sweet as it is devastating.

You nod desperately. Anything, for God’s sake, anything to help!

She whispers softly, “This law introduced the concept of ‘displacement current.’”

You blink, and then, as if by some miracle, the answer comes to you. But before you can speak it aloud, Nayeon leans in again and your traitorous eyes glance at her exposed breasts.

You almost forget the answer entirely, but a slip or whatever that was makes you say, “Ampère-Maxwell’s Law,” your voice trembling, unsure if physics is about to save you or be the last nail in the coffin of your sanity.

Nayeon looks you up and down.

She approved.

Slowly, as if savoring the moment, in a exaggeratedly calculated movement, she pulls her panties down, revealing everything.

Her curves are so smooth they seem hand-carved by some Renaissance artist with a thing for naughty nerd girls. Her entire body is a work of art, every inch of her pure perfection, and as she moves closer, you feel like you’re about to lose control for good.

Nayeon sits beside you, her legs slightly apart so you can see her tight little pussy. She looks you up and down, the same look that used to seem like someone fully focused on her studies, now carrying much more obvious intentions.

"Do you like what you see?" she asks, her voice low and seductive.

You swallow hard, trying not to seem as out of control as you really are.

"Yeah... Very much..." you respond, your voice rougher than usual, and before you know it, Nayeon is leaning in closer, her body heat practically radiating onto you.

"What are you waiting for, then?" she whispers, her lips just inches from yours. The suggestion lingers in the air, and your body seems to move on its own. Your hand rises, hesitant, until it reaches her breasts, your fingers feeling the smoothness of her skin and the firmness that makes you forget about any equation or college project. You squeeze lightly, and Nayeon lets out a soft sigh that drives you even crazier.

She leans in more, her lips brushing yours in a gentle kiss. When she pulls away, her eyes are gleaming.

"I’ve always liked you, you know?" she confesses, lightly biting her lower lip as her hand slides down your chest. "I've always thought you were really hot… and smart, too. You just needed a little help focusing on what matters. You’ve got potential, you just need to get rid of the distractions."

You chuckle nervously, still trying to process what’s happening.

"I never imagined you were like this… You always seemed so… well-behaved." The words come out with difficulty, your mind still reeling between what you thought you knew about Nayeon and what you're discovering now.

She laughs softly, amused, her eyes half-closed as she replies.

"You can’t judge a book by its cover," she says, her voice almost a whispered secret, as if she’s letting you in on something few people are privileged to know.

She then pulls your hand to her waist, and you squeeze, feeling the softness of her skin, the warmth of her body under your fingers. Nayeon’s body fits against yours in a way that feels almost orchestrated. Her hands, agile and confident, slide down to your thigh, in a way that makes your breathing quicken even more.

And then you feel her touch on your groin. It’s a slow tease, and she looks into your eyes with a smile that’s almost victorious.

"Do you want me to suck you off?" she asks, her voice thick with desire.

Your heart is racing so fast you can barely think of a coherent response, but you nod, without hesitation.

"I do." The word escapes your lips, more of a groan than a response.

Nayeon smiles, that wicked smile you would never have associated with the girl who sat in the front row of the class.

"I’ve been dying to," she murmurs, the heat between you two rising with each second, promising much more than just an intellectual debate.

Nayeon kneels between your legs and prepares to take off her glasses. At that moment, it seems like the last facade of the “well-behaved nerd” is about to fall along with them. But you, in a sudden impulse of something even Freud would hesitate to analyze, reach out and say, almost automatically, “No, leave the glasses on. I like you like that.”

She stops, her fingers still hovering over the frames, and smiles in a way only someone about to change your fate could.

"Really?" She tilts her head, clearly liking the idea. Not just liking it—loving it. The kind of smile she gives you is one of someone who’s just gained a new strategic advantage in the game.

"Can you… do it… with the glasses on?" you ask, and honestly, now that the words are in the air, the question seems less weird than it should.

"Of course. If that’s what you want," Nayeon replies, the smile gaining an edge of provocation that makes you wonder if she hadn’t planned this all along.

She reaches for your pants and pulls them down along with your underwear. Nayeon touches your cock, and the sensation makes you realize how small her hands are. With incredibly soft fingers, she grips it firmly, as if evaluating something rare, a treasure she’s just found. Her eyes, still behind the lenses, look up at you.

"Wow..." she murmurs, impressed. "It’s so… big and thick.”

If you had any chance of keeping your composure, it vanished with that sentence.

"Your hand… is so soft," you manage to say, your brain desperately trying to keep up with what’s happening.

Nayeon smiles.

"Oh, if you liked that, just wait until I put it in my mouth."

And that’s exactly what she does. Nayeon spits into her palm, the quick, indecent sound echoing in the room, and starts stroking you, her touch now sliding with the ease of something well-lubricated, almost clinical—if it weren’t absolutely pornographic.

And then, with little warning, she swallows.

Just like that. As if she’d been trained at some secret school of forbidden pleasure, her mouth wraps around your cock, warm, wet, and with a desire bordering on voracious. She looks up at you from below, her glasses still firmly in place.

You writhe in pleasure. Nothing else matters. Not the project, not life’s worries. Just Nayeon, and the way she sucks, kisses, and takes you deep, with a dedication that would make anyone believe she’s indeed “studying” something.

"I’m going to use my breasts now," she says, stopping briefly, her voice slightly hoarse, as she adjusts her breasts, squeezing them around your cock.

Ah, Nayeon’s breasts. Warm, soft, and incredibly seductive, they create the perfect “pillow” as she starts giving you a titjob. And the glasses? Still there, perfectly framing her face, turning this whole thing into an improbable, yet wonderful fantasy.

The sensation of her breasts pressing against your cock is a next-level delight. Nayeon, with a mischievous look and a voice barely above a whisper, asks, "Are you enjoying this, babe?"

You can only groan in response, the sensation so intense that words refuse to form properly. Her breasts move up and down, creating a warm, sweaty pressure that’s almost indescribable. She adjusts the rhythm.

"This is..." you manage to say, your voice hoarse and breaking. "Fuck, this is amazing."

The pleasure builds, a rising heat that seems to have a life of its own as Nayeon keeps working her magic. Her breasts, pressing and rubbing with delicious intensity, create waves of pleasure that only get stronger.

As the rhythm quickens, Nayeon gives a satisfied smile. Her breasts continue to move up and down, the sensation around your cock hot and wet, and you feel the pressure and heat mounting.

You start to squirm, the sensations growing more and more intense. The pleasure is so overwhelming it feels like your body is on the verge of exploding. Nayeon adjusts the pressure and pace, making every touch and movement you feel even more intense.

“Am I making you feel good?” Nayeon asks.

You can only nod, the feeling of being on the brink of climax almost overwhelming. Your moans become more frequent, and you can feel yourself nearing the point of no return... something Nayeon hadn’t anticipated.

Then, just as the pleasure reaches an almost unbearable level, you cum. The first spurt surprises her, landing on her face. She stays there, wide-eyed and gasping, her glasses now smeared with your semen. She accepts what happened and keeps stroking you, and the second, weaker spurt drips down onto her breasts, slowly trickling. She finishes the job by rubbing your cock on her chest, spreading your cum all over her breasts until they’re thoroughly messy. When she stops, you exhale, feeling like you’re in paradise.

“Fuck… that was so damn good, Nayeon…”

She stays still for a moment, her expression a mix of surprise and indignation. The intensity of your orgasm seems to have caught her so off guard that even she needs a moment to process it.

“Why did you cum?!” Nayeon asks, removing her glasses, her voice filled with a mix of irritation and unfulfilled desire. “You haven’t even fucked me yet!”

Breathless and slightly embarrassed, you try to defuse the situation.

“Well, take it as a compliment,” you say, a sheepish smile forming on your face. “You’re just too hot for me to handle.”

Luckily for you, this makes Nayeon smile, the irritation melting into a flush. She relaxes, though still with a teasing edge.

“Tsk. But next time, don’t cum on my glasses,” she says, her voice softer now. “But if it felt good for you, I guess I can forgive it. Just know that I’ll make sure you get hard for me again,” she says with an authority that makes her even more irresistible.

Nayeon moves closer, slowly, like a predator about to capture its prey, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of challenge and mischief. You feel the air shift as she approaches, as though the entire room is holding its breath for what’s about to happen.

“Take off your clothes,” she commands, her voice low but filled with an authority that makes you obey without hesitation.

In an instant, you’re naked, sitting on the bed, vulnerable, your heart pounding faster. Nayeon watches you, a smile spreading across her lips, like she’s admiring a masterpiece she’s about to perfect. She sits beside you with a calculated calm, and before you know it, her lips are on yours—soft at first, then more intense, as if she’s learning every inch of your mouth.

Between kisses, her hand starts exploring your body, moving slowly, until it reaches exactly where you want it most. Her fingers wrap around your cock, and the touch is... electrifying. It’s not just any touch; it’s the kind that knows exactly what it’s doing. She strokes you lightly, almost teasingly, while her lips pull away just enough for her to whisper in your ear:

“Remember that time in class when the professor asked me to help you with an assignment?” She pauses, her lips brushing lightly against your ear. “All I could think about was how much I wanted you to fuck me until I came.”

The effect of her words is immediate. Your entire body reacts before your mind can even catch up. Your cock pulses hard in her hand, almost as if it’s following an unspoken command. She feels it and giggles softly, a sound just as provocative as every move of her fingers.

“Look at you…” she says, her voice full of amusement and a hint of mockery. “You’re getting hard for me again, aren’t you? What a naughty boy.”

Your heart races, and you can hardly respond. All you can do is gaze at her while your desire skyrockets. Her hand moves slowly and deliberately, teasing every part of you, while her eyes stay locked on yours, as if savoring every second.

“How badly do you want to fuck me?” Nayeon asks, her voice soft but filled with a promise you know she’ll fulfill.

“So much,” you reply, almost breathless, anticipation taking over every inch of your being.

She smirks—that dangerous smile that says, "Exactly what I wanted to hear." Her lips return to yours, but this time there’s more urgency, a hunger building with every passing moment. Her hand moves with more intention now, and your excitement grows at an unimaginable rate.

“I knew you were like this…” she murmurs between kisses, her lips nearly glued to yours. “Such a horny little thing, always wanting more.”

She tightens her grip slightly, making you squirm, the pleasure coursing through you with every squeeze, every word whispered like a secret shared only with you.

“You like this, don’t you?” she asks, already knowing the answer. Her eyes glint as her hand continues its strategic work. “You like me teasing you.”

“Yes,” you manage to say, your voice shaky with desire.

Nayeon pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, her smile blending amusement with seduction.

“Good, because I love teasing you…” she says, then leans down, as if she’s about to do something even more daring. Her lips brush against your neck, lightly biting as her hand slides lower, teasing and gripping, leaving you on the edge of collapse.

“Think you can handle another round?” she asks, her voice now full of challenge.

“There’s only one way to find out,” you respond, trying to keep your composure but knowing you’re completely at her mercy.

“Let’s see then,” she whispers against your skin, and before you know it, she’s moving down, her lips traveling across your body, and you lean back onto the bed. She leaves a trail of kisses and bites along your chest and stomach, making her way lower.

She looks up at you, her eyes dark with desire, and with one final mischievous smile, she leans back up just enough to brush her lips against yours without fully kissing.

“Are you ready to fuck me now?” she asks.

And without a doubt, you are.

Nayeon lies back on the bed, slowly pulling you on top of her until you feel the warmth of her body against yours. The way she molds perfectly beneath you feels like she was made for this. Your hands trace the contours of her breasts, fingers pressing gently against her skin as you slide into her slowly, savoring every second. Your lips meet hers in a slow, intense kiss, tongues moving in sync with the rhythm of your hips—thrusting in and out, deepening with each stroke.

She moans against your mouth, the sound vibrating through your whole body, making you speed up a little while still keeping control. Nayeon breaks the kiss, throwing her head back, eyes closed, and you take the chance to kiss her neck, tasting the salty sheen of sweat. "You like this, don't you?" you whisper in her ear, your voice low and husky as you keep thrusting, feeling how tightly she clenches around you.

"Fuck… yes," she breathes out, her nails now digging into your back, scratching you with a mix of pain and pleasure. "Fuck me harder."

You obey without thinking, picking up the pace, each thrust deeper and more deliberate. Her moans grow louder, almost turning into screams, and it only drives you to go harder. You kiss her again, this time with more urgency, sucking her lower lip between yours as your hips move in a nearly frantic rhythm. The sound of your bodies colliding fills the room, mixed with her broken moans and your own heavy breathing.

"You're so fucking hot," you say between kisses, softly biting along her jawline as you lose yourself in the sensation. "So tight… fuck, Nayeon."

She opens her eyes, looking at you with a mix of challenge and pleasure, her face flushed and sweaty. "Come on, fuck me harder… don’t stop," she pleads, pulling you down for another kiss, this one desperate, as if she needs every touch of yours to survive. You oblige, thrusting harder, while her moans turn into muffled cries as your mouths stay connected.

But then, you decide to switch positions. Science, after all, is about experimentation. You position her at the edge of the bed, Nayeon's legs lifted and spread wide, her pussy on full display—pink and pulsing, inviting. The sight makes you lose control for a moment as you grab her thighs, pulling her closer to you. With one hand, you line up your cock, the tip already slick with excitement, before sliding it inside, feeling the warmth wrap around you completely. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room, mingling with both your moans.

Nayeon looks up at you, a wild gleam in her eyes, completely different from the girl everyone thinks they know. "You're such a filthy pervert," she growls through gritted teeth, her voice low and dripping with lust. "Fucking your study partner like this, so dirty… Do you see what you've done to me? The little nerd everyone thinks is so innocent, and look where I am now, all spread out for you…"

The sound of her voice, the moans slipping out as you fuck her harder and deeper, only makes you lose more control. "Innocent?" you mutter, your breathing ragged. "You pretend to be the good little student, but with me, you love being a slut, don’t you?"

She lets out a wicked laugh, cut off by a louder moan as you thrust even deeper. "I fucking love it. I love how you make me forget everything… I love being your little slut. I’m all yours, and you can do whatever you want to me."

Your movements grow faster, each thrust pulling louder moans from her. You grip her thighs tight, pulling her into you with each thrust, your eyes fixed on the sight of your cock sliding in and out, completely soaked. "Look at you," you growl, your voice dripping with taunt. "So depraved… No one would guess that the nerdy girl from class is here, begging to be fucked like a whore."

Nayeon lets out a long, drawn-out moan, almost a scream, her body arching beneath you, fingers gripping the sheets tightly. "Yes! Fuck me harder, fuck! I want you to know this is what I love… I love being the little nerd only you can fuck like this. Faster, harder!"

You don't hesitate, your hips slamming against hers in a frenzied pace, the heat and pressure of every thrust consuming you both. Her legs tremble, and you keep pounding with force and precision. "Admit it, Nayeon," you say through gritted teeth, picking up the pace. "You love being my little slut…"

She opens her eyes, staring at you with an almost possessive intensity. "Fuck, yes! I’m your slut. Fuck me more, fuck my pussy like I’m only yours…" You lower yourself onto her, kissing her hard, pouring every bit of your heat into her through the kiss as you keep thrusting, and between desperate, erratic kisses, she gasps, "Take me from behind now. I want you deep inside me, you filthy pervert!”

You pull away from her, and Nayeon promptly positions herself on your messy bed, arching her back, ready. Your approach is almost reverent. You position yourself behind her as you lower your head slowly, your eyes tracing the sight she offers—her wet pussy, swollen with excitement, and just above, her tight little ass, teasing you. She’s so exposed, so vulnerable, yet there’s a confidence in her, like she’s fully aware of what’s coming. And that’s exactly what turns her on.

Before making a move, you let your warm breath brush against her skin, sending shivers through her body. Nayeon lets out a shaky sigh, and her back arches even more. “Don’t make me wait…” she murmurs, a mix of urgency and need in her voice.

With a sly grin, you lower your mouth, and your tongue finally touches the slick entrance of her pussy. The taste is addictive, just as you suspected. You start with soft, long licks, gliding along the length of her lips, savoring every drop of her juices. Nayeon responds immediately, letting out quiet moans, her breathing already quickening.

“You… know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?” she asks, her voice broken by little gasps.

You chuckle lightly between licks but don’t answer. Your hands firmly grip Nayeon’s ass, keeping her in place as your tongue slides deeper, exploring her sensitive folds. Each time you graze the entrance of her pussy, it clenches, almost begging to be filled, but you refuse to give her everything at once. Instead, you decide to tease her even more.

Sliding your tongue upward, you slowly trace circles around her tight little asshole, making it wet with your saliva. The reaction is instant—Nayeon’s body trembles, and her moans intensify. “Oh my God… keep going… please…” she whispers, her voice a desperate plea.

You alternate between quick, gentle licks, sometimes focusing on her swollen, slick pussy, other times on her sensitive ass, driving her to the brink of losing control. Your tongue dances between the two spots, teasing and pleasing her at the same time. With every new touch, Nayeon’s moans grow louder, more urgent.

“You… you like this, don’t you, you pervert?” she asks with a muffled voice, her hands gripping the bed sheets tightly.

“I love how you taste,” you murmur against her skin.

She lets out a breathy laugh, somewhere between pleasure and disbelief. “Of course you do, I’m… delicious.” And you can’t help but agree. Your tongue continues to explore, licking deep into her pussy and then sliding up to her ass, enjoying the way her body reacts to every touch. Your fingers dig into her ass cheeks harder, leaving red marks on her pale skin.

Nayeon’s moans mix with uncontrollable whispers, each word escaping between ragged breaths. “Please… you’re killing me,” she begs, her voice thick with pleasure, her eyes half-closed in pure lust. “Fuck me… just fuck me already!”

Her plea is desperate, loaded with an almost imperious urgency, and you, with a mischievous smile, position yourself behind her, watching as she pushes her ass higher, her slick pussy begging for more. “You sure you can take it?” you tease, your hands already gripping her hips, but before she can even respond, you pull her back, aligning yourself with precision, the head of your cock brushing against her lips.

“Just do it, fuck,” Nayeon shouts, her tone commanding but dripping with so much desire that you can’t resist. In one swift motion, you thrust into her, and the wet heat of her pussy envelops you completely. Pleasure shoots through you like an electric current, and she arches her back, pushing against you, as if begging you to go deeper, faster.

You start slowly, savoring each thrust, each inch sliding in and out of her, but soon the pace picks up, driven by the uncontrollable moans pouring out of Nayeon. “Faster… harder,” she moans, her voice faltering with each deeper thrust, and you don’t hesitate. Your hands sink into the soft flesh of her hips, holding her steady as you speed up, the thrusts becoming more intense, more brutal.

“Look at you, so prim and proper in class, but here…” you say between thrusts, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. “Here you’re just my little slut. The nerd who loves being fucked like a whore.”

Nayeon moans loudly, her voice breaking into wicked laughter. “Is that what you want, huh? To know the nerd loves being fucked like this, like a depraved little slut… Make me scream, fuck!”

With each slap to her ass, she moans louder, her pale skin turning red with every hit. “Hit me harder,” she begs, her eyes gleaming with pleasure, her voice a mix of desperation and ecstasy. And you oblige, slapping her harder, leaving red marks as you bury yourself deeper inside her.

“You’re an unbelievable slut,” you growl, picking up the pace, each thrust drawing louder and more desperate moans from her. “You pretend to be so good, but look at you now… begging for more.”

“I’m your slut,” she screams, pushing her ass back against you even harder. “Do whatever you want with me… I love being fucked like this, fuck! Make me yours, make me cum.”

You keep going, your thrusts becoming frenzied, your hips moving with an uncontrollable speed and intensity. “Fuck, look at you,” you taunt, feeling your own pleasure building. “You love being treated like this, like a desperate little whore. Scream for me, Nayeon.”

“Yes, yes!” she screams, her voice thick with pleasure, almost hoarse. “Fuck me until I can’t take it anymore, babe!”

Her body trembling as her climax approaches. Suddenly, she arches her back, pushing her ass harder against you, and her voice cracks as she screams, “I’m... going... to cum!”

Her pussy clenches tightly around your cock, pulsing and shaking as she’s overtaken by the orgasm, her whole body shuddering in ecstasy while your relentless thrusts continue. But you don't stop. Her pleasure only drives you further, each thrust pulling everything out of her, Nayeon’s body writhing, each scream feeding your own growing desire.

“Yeah… Fuck me, make me yours,” she keeps begging, even in the middle of her own climax, completely surrendered to the sensation.

You can feel your own orgasm building, heat rising fast, pressure mounting. “I’m going to cum,” you warn, your voice rough and broken, unable to stop as the final thrusts send you both over the edge.

The feeling of her pulsating pussy around your cock pushes you to the brink, and with one last frustrated groan, you pull out. Nayeon gasps for a moment, recovering from her orgasm as she kneels down on the floor, almost like she already knows what to do – and, honestly, she does. Her eyes lock on you, her face slightly flushed, and her mouth already open, waiting eagerly like the diligent student she is.

You grip your cock with one hand, still throbbing, and bring it to her lips. With her mouth wide, Nayeon wraps her lips around you once more, sucking softly with a gentleness that almost belies the fevered desire etched across her face. You pull out of her mouth, stroking yourself quickly, feeling the pressure mounting further.

Nayeon waits, obedient, with her tongue stretched out, her eyes hungry and fixed on you, knowing exactly the effect that has on you. When the moment hits, the first spurt of cum lands on her warm tongue, and Nayeon doesn’t even blink. She takes it all in with pleasure, as you empty yourself into her mouth, your body shuddering, nearly out of control.

She keeps her mouth open the entire time, her tongue coated in your cum, and when you finally finish, she closes her lips, licking them as the taste spreads. With perfect manners, she shows you her full mouth, eyes full of playful mischief, and then, without breaking eye contact, she swallows it all in one gulp, her throat moving slowly.

“See?” she says with a satisfied smile, as if she’d just passed a test with flying colors. “I swallowed it all without spilling a drop.”

But, of course, Nayeon, ever the overachiever, wasn’t finished. Before you can catch your breath, she leans in again, taking your sensitive cock into her mouth, sucking with an intensity that makes you moan involuntarily. The jolt of pleasure is so sharp that you try to pull away, your body trembling, but she holds you firmly, her mouth working at a pace that borders on cruel.

“Fuck!... I can’t take any more!” you try to protest, your voice breaking, but Nayeon just hums in response, pulling you out only long enough to say, “Not yet,” before closing her lips around you again, sucking you until, finally, she decides she’s satisfied.

When she releases you, you’re left gasping, almost paralyzed from the intensity of it all. Nayeon smiles sweetly, victorious, wiping the corner of her mouth with her fingers before saying with calm satisfaction, “Mmm, Now that was delicious.”

—

As you desperately gulp water from your bottle, the silence that follows your impromptu "study session" lingers heavily in the air, a strange return to reality. Nayeon had stood up, her hair still slightly messy and a small smile playing on her lips, before heading to the bathroom. She walked with the confidence of someone who had just solved a particularly tricky math problem.

And now you're here, staring at the bathroom door, listening to the sound of water as she washes her face and cleans her glasses, removing any trace of... well, *you*. Then, because life loves to remind you that nothing is ever simple, your mind starts to wander. What, exactly, just happened? Oh, right. You were working on a project. A project that, incidentally, hasn’t moved an inch forward.

Nayeon steps out of the bathroom, picking up the discarded clothes from the floor, dressing herself piece by piece, taking her time, like you were a couple with decades of shared intimacy. She finishes by adjusting her glasses, almost like she’s putting a crown back on after a victorious battle. She sits back down in her chair, opens the laptop as if nothing had happened, and lets out a satisfied but determined sigh.

“Alright,” she says, as if she hadn’t just left you weak-kneed. “Let’s get back to the project.”

You stare at her, incredulous. As if it were possible to get back to the project after that.

And then you realize you’re still naked. You quickly slip on your boxers and pants.

“To be honest, I don’t think I can focus on my part right now,” you admit, your voice still a bit hoarse.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.” She smiles that smile—a mix of mischief and... surprisingly efficient academic prowess. “As long as you keep fucking me, of course. I have to be rewarded somehow.”

You’re speechless for a moment, because, well... you don’t exactly have a counterargument. In fact, it seems like the best deal you’ve ever made in your life.

“Deal,” you say, trying to sound cool, as if you weren’t absolutely thrilled by the arrangement.

Inside, though, you’re jumping for joy.

She adjusts her glasses, watching you for a moment, and you notice that glint in her eyes—a mix of ego, intelligence, and... something else that makes your heart race. Or maybe it’s just the recent sex.

Hard to say.

“But,” she cuts through your thoughts with a serious tone, “no one can know about this. We have to meet in secret. No telling anyone.”

“I swear I won’t tell.”

You wonder how you ended up in this situation, but the answer seems obvious. Who in their right mind would turn down a request like that?

She smiles, satisfied, and turns her attention back to the laptop, as if everything were perfectly resolved.

“Besides,” Nayeon adds, without looking up, “if you need help with any other subject, you can count on me. After all, I think we work well together, don’t we?”

You just nod, but there’s something about her—something between the proud nerd and the bold confidence—that drives you wild. Wild with desire, of course, but also something deeper. And as you watch her, so focused, adjusting her glasses like she’s planning the next phase of a secret mission, you realize that you’re falling for the class nerd.

Yes, she’s hot. Yes, she has a way of disarming you at every turn.

But it’s more than that. It’s as if every time she looks at you with that “know-it-all” air or talks about a complicated academic concept, your mind equates it with something incredibly sexy. And suddenly, your love life has turned into an equation you can’t—and don’t want to—solve.

And, of course, the fact that she’s amazing in bed doesn’t hurt, either.

“Should we meet tomorrow?” you ask casually.

Nayeon doesn’t even look up, just gives a small “mm-hmm” of confirmation, her fingers still typing away.

“Your place again. Same time. Clean up your room... And answer the door in your boxers.”

She glances at you slightly, smiling, and you know exactly what that smile means. And, well, you’re not in any position to complain. In fact, if studying had always been like this, maybe you'd have been the best student in class.

—

As you walk Nayeon to the door, you can’t help but think that maybe you’ve uncovered the true secret to academic success. And who would have thought it was a sexy nerd with glasses who secretly turned out to be a naughty girl who liked sneaking off for sex?

As she leaves, you can’t help but smile when your eyes meet one last time. Not just because of the deal you’ve just made, but because, for the first time in a long while, you’re genuinely excited to "study" with someone. Suddenly, the academic world seems a lot more interesting.

You close the door, but something lingers in the air. Maybe it’s the smell of your sweat—you still haven’t showered, after all. Maybe it’s the trace of Nayeon’s perfume. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s the beginning of one of the most unexpectedly erotic adventures of your life.

-----------

A/n: Please forgive any typos or grammatical errors, English is not my first language. Thanks for reading.

1K notes · View notes

yeonzzzn · 7 months ago

Text

🍀no limits: park jongseong

part one of the no limits duology / the limits series

pairing: jay x afab!reader word count: 17.5k

synopsis: jay was finally able to open up his restaurant and it being more successful than he could have hoped. You decided to try the new restaurant everyone kept talking about, falling in love with it immediately and even crushing on its owner. You become a regular and get to know jay quickly. as jay becomes bold and finally asks you on a date and brings you back home with him, he fails to tell you he shares the space with his sister, three best friends and his five month old niece…

genre: strangers to lovers, uncle!jay, smut

warnings: swearing, alcohol, overprotective jay, multiple unprotective sex scenes, dom!jay, breeding kink, daddy kink, fingering, oral (m. + f. receiving), cum eating, hair pulling, aftercare, semi public sex in a dark corner of a club, MINORS DNI, lemme know if i missed anything <3

✰ this is a spin-off to the main series, please read parts one-three before reading this one. they are tagged under the title ✰

•·.·no limits spotify playlist'·.·•

Jay rubbed his hands together, “Okay everyone, are you ready?”

“Jesus man!” Heeseung snapped, using his hand to fan his face from the summer heat, “Just hurry up, it’s just us no need to be so nervous.”

“That’s what I am saying,” Sunghoon agrees, also fanning his face, “Too damn hot outside.”

Jay knew he had zero reason to be nervous, but how could he not? He was fixing to share one of his biggest achievements (besides ya know, graduating college with not just his computer science degree but also his culinary and business degrees) with his friends, his family, what is not scary about that?

“Jongseong, my sweet son,” his mother said, rocking his niece on her hips, “We are excited to share this moment with you, it’s all okay.”

Jay relaxed at his mother’s words until his sister opened her mouth.

“Jay, just hurry the hell up,” she rolled her eyes, “I am sweating. I can feel it rolling down my back.”

Jay narrowed his eyes at her, “Stinks, no one asked for that gross detail.”

Before she could say anymore, Jake wrapped his arms around her from behind, “Baby, he’s nervous let him take his time.”

Thank you, Jake, finally, someone gets it.

“Dad, want to help me with the sign?” Jay asked, finally deciding to get it over it.

He nodded, going to the other side of the door, holding the string that led to the banner that was covering up the sign to his restaurant, “On three?”

Jay nodded, his hands shaking as he held the other string, “One…”

“Two,” his father smiled.

“Three,” Jay said finally, both the strings being pulled and the banner falling to the ground.

His eyes quickly dart to his family and friends, their eyes widening and smiles growing wide.

His sister and Jake covered their mouths quickly, tears filling their eyes, “You named it Hwa Young…” his sister softly said.

Jay nodded, wiping his sweaty hands against his jeans, “Yeah, I named it after Hwa…” Jay’s voice trembled, “Was just going to name it Beautiful Little Flower, but thought her actual name would be more meaningful.”

Jay adored his niece just as much, or even a bit more, as he adored his little sister, the two of them being the most important women in his life along with his mother. Using his niece's name for his restaurant was too perfect to pass up.

“Brother,” Jake said, walking over to him, reaching his hand out for Jay to take it, and he did, “I can’t believe you did this man.”

Jay pulled his best friend into a hug, rocking each other back and forth, “It’s all for my family.”

Jay could finally say he’s gotten used to calling Jake his brother-in-law, even if he and his sister weren’t married yet, it kinda felt nice to call Jake his brother officially.

“Jongseong,” his sister cried, practically yanking her fiancé out of the way and hugging him herself, “I love you so much, big brother.”

Jay now felt his own tears swelling in his eyes, “I love you too, Stinks.”

One by one the rest of his family hugged him, giving him all the congrats he could ask for. Jay fully and truly felt the happiest in this moment.

Hwa cooed and reached her arms out for him.

Never mind, this was the happiest moment he could ever ask for.

Jay retrieved Hwa from his mother, hugging her tightly to his chest and planting kisses all over her face, causing her baby giggles to fill his ears.

“Show us inside now???” Sunghoon asked, anxiously waiting to see how it looked and honestly wanting to get out of the heat.

“What Sunghoon said!” Heeseung joined in, “Unlock the doors!”

He rolled his eyes, “God, you lot are so annoying.”

Jay took the keys from his pocket and officially opened the door for the first time since the restaurant was finished.

“I welcome you all,” Jay said with a smirk, his nerves finally disappearing, “To Hwa Young, the best cafe restaurant of food from all over the world all in one place.”

The smiles from his friends and family helped boost his ego, knowing damn well they already loved his cooking and knowing they were all fixing to love it even more.

—

You didn’t think the line to the new restaurant in town was going to be, quite literally, wrapped around the building. The whole parking lot was completely filled with everyone and their mommas here in line.

You should have expected this though, the restaurant has only been open for about a month and the news on it has been crazy. It’s made almost every food article with five-star ratings. No wonder this place hasn’t slowed down at all.

The line was slowly moving and you were so close to the door you could already taste the food you wanted to order. Shifting your weight back and forth on your feet you didn’t think your stomach would last much longer until a line of people left the restaurant doors, and the line you were in moved faster.

Thank fucking christ.

Soon enough you made it past the doors, the cool air condition sending shivers down your spine in pure bliss from getting out of the summer heat. You took the time to glance around the restaurant. It was a beautiful blue-green cafe-style feel with the fancy life of a normal restaurant. Whoever the owner is, he knows what he is doing. Making this place feel so warm and welcoming and at the same time is fancy and professional. He had big brains, for real.

Your eyes now darted to each waiter and waitress, seeing a flash of long red hair shoot across from the kitchen to a table, tray of food in hand. Your best friend.

Yunjin gave her customers big smiles and told them to enjoy their meal, her eyes lifting to see you and another big smile on her face, making her way towards you.

“YNNIIEEE!!!” She set the empty tray on an empty table and quickly pulled you into a hug, “I am happy you finally made it here!!!”

You hugged her back, squeezing her tightly and rocking her back and forth, “I waited in line for like an hour.”

She quickly pulls back, folding her hands at your shoulders, “Really?!”

You nod, giving a small smile.

Yunjin quickly glances around the restaurant, “There aren’t any empty tables in my section,” she glances off to the right side of the building, “You’ll have to sit over there.”

You pouted but accepted it anyway. You came here specifically to see your friend and to get served by her. Well, you wanted to see this place too. Yunjin has hyped up this restaurant and her boss for the entire time she’s worked here. Plus again this place has been given five-star reviews, probably ten if it were allowed.

“There’s still plenty more time for me to come see you,” you comforted her, resting your hands now on her shoulders, “But I am starving sooooo.”

She giggles and leads you to the table, “You’ll be well taken care of here, I promise you.” She gave a wink before rushing back off to her section of the restaurant.

You twisted your fingers in your hands, glancing between every other waiter and waitress, curious as to who would be the one to serve you.

Yunjin quickly made her way to the kitchen, double-checking the tickets on the rack and glancing at the trays of food. Her eyes glanced up to finally find who she originally came back here to look for.

“Jay!”

Jay kept his eyes locked on the order slip in his right hand, glancing back and forth between the tray in his hand and the piece of paper to make sure everything was there, “What’s up?” he finally answered her.

Yunjin slides to his side, glancing up at him with a smile, “My best friend is here, the one I’ve told you about?”

Jay starts walking away, “Congratulations. Let me know how she likes it here, and have her give us a review.”

Yunjin pouted but followed quickly after him, “She’s not in my section.”

Jay set the tray down on the counter, placing a few utensils onto the plates and double-checking once again that everything was in order, “Take her order anyway.”

Before Jay could pick up the tray again, Yunjin was slipping it into her hands, Jay glared at her, “She’s in your section. I want her to get the best experience here. You’re as best as it will get.”

Jay already had other customers to make sure and keep up with, along with keeping up with the kitchen and all his employees. Plus Yunjin was more than capable of bouncing back and forth between sections. Yet Yunjin winked at him and ran out with his tray.

Jay followed quickly behind her, “Give it back.”

“Nope,” she sang, pointing a finger across the restaurant, “She’s right there. Show her how good this place is.”

Jay rolled his eyes and pulled his notepad, silently cursing to himself that he needed to invest in tablets to take orders, “Maybe I need to offer her your job too while I am at it.”

Yunjin gave him a wink, “No you won’t,” and she walked away.

Jay sighs, walking over to the table Yunjin pointed at. Reaching his hand into his pocket to pull out his pen and write down the table number. Putting on his boss/customer service mask.

“Hello! Welcome to Hwa Young, I’m…”

Jay lost every ounce of thought process when you looked up at him. Your beautiful eye color shines so brightly under the sunlight coming in from the windows. Your smile sends him into cardiac arrest. He just stares at you, taking in every inch of your beauty. You’re friends with Yunjin? This beautiful human being sitting in front of him was friends with his Yunjin?

You stared back at him, taking in his pretty brown eyes and the way his blonde hair was slicked back, the dark of his natural hair slowly peeking through his skin. Small strands of his hair fell into his face, complimenting his tan skin even more.

Jay blinked a couple of times, and looked down at his notepad, “Welcome to Hwa Young, I am Jay, the owner of this restaurant and I’ll be taking care of you today.”

The…OWNER?!? Yunjin put you in the owner's section?!?! You already knew your face was blushing at the beautiful man before you. Already knew your best friend was standing off into the distance with a smirk on her face.

You kept repeating to yourself to look away from him, to look back at the menu and tell him what you wanted. But you couldn’t look away from him, just like he kept staring back at you.

Jay didn’t know what came over him and why he was so speechless. He’s been with pretty girls before, slept with plenty of them, and has served just as many in his restaurant. But what’s so different about you? Everything was telling him to sit across from you in this booth. But he had a job to do, and other tables to take care of.

He blinked a couple of times and shook himself out of his daze, “New here?”

His words brought you back to reality, forcing you to finally look at the menu, “Yes, first time actually. My best friend works here.”

“Yunjin? Yeah, she told me you were here. She talks about you a lot actually.”

You looked back at him for a split second and then whipped your head around to find your friend, seeing her peeking her head around the corner of the kitchen door, “Sounds like something she’d do.”

Jay chuckles, his nerves finally settling down, “It is. She’s great though. Very hard working and one of the best waitresses I have.”

You smiled at him at the praises he gave your best friend, feeling more relaxed, “Okay Mr. Bossman,” you teased, “What is the best thing here?”

Jay smiles, “Everything,” you roll your eyes at his cockiness, but know he fully means it. The man was running a five-star restaurant that was a month old. He knows what he’s doing, “How about I surprise you with something?” He asked, leaning his hands on the table, “Sound good?”

You nodded, but then quickly shook your head, “How much will it be?” You completely forget you paid your rent this morning, coming here with a mission to try the cheapest thing.

But Jay just kept his smile wide, “It’ll be on the house. Can’t have a pretty girl who is best friends with Yunjin pay for her first visit, can we?” He gave you a wink, “Don’t worry about a thing, YN,” and he slowly backed away, keeping his eyes on you until he turned around and walked to the kitchen. The flash of red hair ran in after him.

It surprised you that he knew your name, but then you remembered Yunjin ran her mouth about you. Making you now wonder what all Jay knew about you.

Once Jay was in the safe space of the kitchen, he leaned onto the countertop, placing his hand on his chest and pulling the fabric of his black dress shirt between his fingers.

“Sooooo,” Yunjin sang standing in front of him and tilting her head, “How did it go?”

Jay gave her a death glare, “What are you pulling here?”

Yunjin gave him a look of confusion, holding her hands up, “Me? Planning something?”

Jay hardened his glare.

Yunjin sighs, resting her arms back down to her side, “I really am not planning anything. I just want my friend to have a good experience here.” Jay stared at her more, “Okay!! Fine! I was totally hoping you’d fall head over heels for her and take her out.”

Jay stood up straight, “I am firing you,” he said to her and walked over to the cook, quickly writing down a meal he’s praying you’ll love and hooking it into the rack, “This needs to go out ASAP.” The cook nods, giving him a “You got it boss.” and a smile.

“You won’t fire me,” Yunjin challenges, “But come on, I saw the way you looked at her.”

“I don’t know her,” Jay retorted, walking to the back office and dropping into his chair, sliding his hand through his hair.

“Then get to know her.”

“You’re still following me? Get back to work.”

“Jay,” she said leaning her elbows on his desk, “If you don’t take her out, I’ll ask Wonbin to take her out.”

Jay rolls his eyes, “Wonbin?”

She shrugs, “He’s been talking about wanting a girlfriend for a while, might as well. Or I could always ask one of your friends the next time I see them here.”

“No!” The way Jay was so quick to reject the idea of one of his friends taking you out made Yunjin smile even more, “No, to it all. If something is going to happen, it’s going to be natural, stop playing matchmaker. Get back to work.”

She frowned, but nodded anyway, walking away, “She’s a beautiful woman, better take your shot before someone else notices.”

Jay rubbed his temples. Oh how very aware he was of how beautiful you are. Knowing Yunjin was right. Jay made quick work of piling up your meal and dessert onto the tray and taking it out to you.

Your smile at seeing the food made his heart sink. Sending his brain thinking about the way you’d smile at him for cooking for you, if it would be the smile you have now or even bigger, brighter.

“Here we go,” he said, setting the grilled lemon chicken sandwich and chocolate cheesecake down in front of her, “This is my go-to meal,” he smiled, “I hope you enjoy it.”

You try to not let your saliva spill out of your mouth at the food in front of you, “It looks fantastic.”

Jay couldn’t help but continue to smile, pulling his notepad and pen out, “If you ever need anything,” he said tearing the paper from the pad and sliding it onto the table to you, “Or if you just want to talk or get VIP treatment here, give me a text or call.”

You took the paper in your hands and stared at the number. You smiled at him, “I will. Also, tell Yunjin to mind her own business.”

Jay laughed, “Trust me, I plan to.”

—

You didn’t know what scared you more:

1: the amount of times you’ve shown up to the restaurant.

2: the hours you’d spend sitting at the exact same booth every time talking to Jay in between him having customers.

3: the amount of free food you’ve gotten.

Probably the third option if you had to be honest. You’ve become a regular here at Hwa Young, slowly working your way through the menu of fine dishes and bakery items. Loved every single thing Jay has put in front of you and never once made you pay a single dime of your money. You’ve tried to pay every time but Jay always refused, “Can’t make a pretty girl pay, plus a friend of Yunjin is a friend of mine,” he would always say.

But who were you to complain? Free food always tastes better anyway.

You’ve been coming and going as you please to Hwa Young for about a month now. Slowly learning the names and faces of the other workers and even the other regulars. The restaurant finally slowed down as well, being only busy during peak hours.

During that month, you and Jay got closer. You learned his favorite colors, how he loves playing the guitar, and even sang a bit too. Learned where he found his love of cooking and wanted to share that with the world. How he triple majored in computer sciences and business with his culinary degrees. The man was SMART. He told you how he worked on the side with his best friend at a software developing company when he wasn’t running the restaurant, to use his computer sciences degree. You learned all the little things about him that made up who he was, and you loved every moment of it. The small attraction grows into true genuine feelings.

You realized you felt more than just the attraction while texting him one night. You were struggling with some family problems of your own, asking if you could rant to him. He called you not even a second later.

“YN, what’s up? Talk to me.”

You ranted to him without a second thought, feeling so at ease and comfortable with him. Telling him the high expectations they’ve set for you. How they hate that you’re a florist and want to own your own flower and garden shop one day. How they want you to return back to college and be a lawyer, to follow in your father's footsteps as one since you were the only child and don't have that older or younger sibling to take up that mantle for you. You expressed to him how much you hated it, how you sometimes felt you would have no choice but to give in to them.

“YN, don’t feed into that bullshit!” Jay snapped over the phone call, and the sound of wind blew through the speaker, telling you he was outside, “You are your own person, if owning a flower and garden shop is what makes you happy, then by all means, please do that.”

Those words, those exact words made your heart flutter and you knew that your feelings for this man were strong.

Which is how you ended up at the restaurant the same days he was. Even if he was in the kitchen cooking that day, you still showed up. Sending Yunjin, Wonbin, Niki, or Danielle to let Jay know you were there, and one of them sending a plate of food out to you and him sending a text to enjoy your meal and he’d come out and see you soon.

Today was one of those days with him in the kitchen. Yunjin waved at you as you walked in and sat at your normal booth, waving back at her. Sweet Danielle also waved and mouthed she’d go get Jay for you.

Jay flipped his baseball cap backward, using his forearm to wipe the sweat from his face and quickly rewashing his hands before jumping back to the grill. It was Friday night and customers would be piling in soon. He was on a mission to make sure everything went out on time and everything went smoothly tonight. Making sure all the kitchen staff had their heads screwed on tight and in order.

Danielle skipped into the kitchen, leaning her elbows on the countertop, staring at Jay’s back, “YNNIE is here!”

Danielle didn’t need Jay to turn around to know he was smiling wide, “Is she?”

“Yes!” She sang with a tilt of her head, “I don’t know why you’re acting so surprised that she’s here, if you are she is too.”

Jay finally turned around and indeed, had the biggest smile on his face, “I’m always surprised when she’s here.”

Danielle raised a brow, “Oppa, just ask her out already.”

Jay’s heart sank at the same moment Yunjin and Niki walked into the kitchen, hearing what Danielle said.

“Yes hyung, I dunno if I can deal with both of your flirting anymore,” Niki said, making a face as if he was about to throw up, “It’s gross.”

Jay glared at him, “Then the next time I see you flirt with that pretty senior girl from your school I’ll tell her how badly you’ve been pinning.”

Niki straightened up, narrowing his eyes to Jay, “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

Niki smiles then, “Flirt all you want!” He pops a ticket to the rack and turns on his heels, “Just ask her out already.”

Jay opened his mouth to fire out a retort, just for Yunjin to chime in, “You should though. It’s been a month.”

Jay rolled his eyes, “Did anyone ask you?”

Yunjin shrugs, “She’s my best friend, you wouldn’t know her if it weren’t for me.”

Jay didn’t have anything to say to it. It was completely true. How could he fight her back on it?

“Anyways!” Danielle said, “What are you making for her tonight?”

Jay thought it over, “Probably something healthy tonight, gave her something really greasy the other day.”

Yunjin scrunches her face, “Maybe bringing her was a bad idea.”

Everything in Jay wanted to scream no, that it wasn’t a bad idea. But just glared at her and then at Danielle, “Are you two leaving Niki and Wonbin on the floor…alone?”

The two girls quickly shot out of the kitchen, realizing leaving those two boys alone wasn’t a good idea.

He quickly made the order on the ticket Niki dropped off and then made your dinner, carrying both plates out, stopping at Niki’s section first to drop off that order and then finding you in your normal spot.

The restaurant was starting to fill up, he had to be quick.

Jay set the plate in front of you and slid into the booth with you, forcing you to move over.

“There’s another side of the booth, don’t you know?” you teased him, taking the sandwich he prepared for you into your hands, “You’d have more room.”

Jay just shrugs and smiles at you, “Am I not allowed to sit beside you?”

You take a bite of the sandwich, releasing a groan at the deliciousness of his cooking and swallowing the rest down with your water, “I mean, you can sit here if you’d want.”

Jay rests his jaw on his hand, his heart doing flips at seeing how much you enjoyed him cooking for you. The happiness on your face every time you were here. The sound of your voice to further proves how happy you were being here and when on a call with him. It had him thinking maybe he should actually ask you out. Finally, take you on a date. To make you feel that happiness because of him completely, and not just by his cooking or talking with you over the phone. To actually spend time with you.

“How much do I owe?” you asked, setting the half of the sandwich you had left onto the plate, “Isn’t it about time that I pay?”

Jay pretended to think about it, “Hmm,” he glanced up at the ceiling, then across the building, and finally back at you, giving you a smirk, “No.”

You roll your eyes, “Come on, Jay. Stop giving me free meals.”

He shook his head and stared into your eyes, wanting so badly to pull you to him and kiss you. But he’d hate for the first kiss to be in his restaurant with him covered and smelling of food grease and sweat.

One of the cooks called for Jay from the kitchen. His eyebrow raised, “I know for a fact he didn’t just call for me across the restaurant as if I couldn’t fire him the moment I got back there.”

You giggled, noticing a small strand of his dyed blonde hair fell out from the hole of his baseball cap. You reached up, twisting it around your finger then tucking it back into the cap.

Jay’s heartbeat quickened, finding that one of the cutest things you’ve ever done so far. His employee's words rang through his head and before he knew it, his mouth was open and was saying, “Why don’t we go out tomorrow night?”

Your face flushed, “L-like on a date?”

He nodded, “Yeah, go out on a date with me, YN.”

The two of you stared at each other, smiles so wide, and small laughter escaped your lips as you nodded back to him, “Yeah, I would love that, actually.”

Jay couldn’t hold back smiling wider as he stood up from the booth, “I’ll text you the details later tonight after we close. Text me your address.” He gave you a wink and walked away.

“Hey!” you shouted at him, “How much is this food?!”

“Free,” he said over his shoulder, passing by Yunjin on the way back to the kitchen, “Make sure she doesn’t pay.”

Yunjin saluted him, her eyes now darting to you and wiggling her eyebrows.

Guess she didn’t mind her business after all.

—

Jay tried his damndest to not stare at the cleavage spilling out of your emerald green dress or notice how fucking sexy your thighs looked squished together at how you rubbed them together out of nervousness. Jay knew his body temperature was more than likely through the roof. If you’d taken a thermometer under his tongue it would break at how hot he felt at that moment. It took everything in him to not stare at you on the car ride here. He almost fell down the steps of your apartment complex when he saw you in that dress with your hair pulled into a cute ponytail. Jay never tripped up on his words (or even his own two feet) before. No female has ever had him at a loss for words, no female has had his heart beating so fast he was afraid it would burst from his chest. What were you doing to him?

Your dress wasn’t even fancy fancy, just a pretty normal everyday summer dress that you fitted with a pair of white Converse that were scuffed up and a bit dirty, but you only dressed this way because you didn’t think Jay was bringing you to the fanciest restaurant you’ve ever seen.

“Jay,” you bumped his shoulder with yours, taking him out of the thoughts of the multiple different ways he wanted to bend you over in that dress. He placed a hand on your back and looked down at you with a smile, “You sure this is okay?” you asked, eyeing the other couples and parties in the restaurant then looking down at your dress, “This plus must be expensive and I feel underdressed.”

Jay wasn’t dressed too fancy either, just in a black button-up dress shirt with black slacks with his dress shoes. It wasn’t fancy like some of the other men in this restaurant, but who cares? You two fit the description the restaurant said on their website. Plus, Jay just so happens to know the owner of this restaurant, so he’ll raise all kinds of hell if you two get kicked out.

“Don’t worry, YN,” he said, “You look sexy, don’t need to worry about your looks.”

You wanted to glare at him but kept your face stern. He knew that wasn’t what you were worried about, “Jay.”

Jay chuckles, pulling you closer to him and resting his hand on your waist. He had to admit, he loved being intimate with you like this. Another feeling he wasn’t used to having. You were fucking him up, that’s for sure. “You’ll come to learn there’s no limits when it comes to me,” he didn’t take his eyes off you, “Princess treatment only.”

You had to look away, biting your lips to keep from smiling so wide. The way he said that made you think he intended to take you out again, on keeping you around. And by god, you hoped so.

Jay hasn’t felt like this in such a long time. Maybe late high school years were the last time he felt like this about someone, to the point of feeling like his chest was going to cave in.

“Jay Park,” the host called, signaling it was finally their turn to be seated.

Jay gently pushed your bag with him to move forward, “That’s me,” he said, giving the host a smirk, “Could you also possibly send Mr. Kim out? I’d like to say hello.”

The host raised a brow, “I’m sorry, who are you?”

Before Jay could answer, a man who mirrored Jay’s outfit but with a white dress shirt, slightly rolled up his sleeves and gave a big smile, “He’s the owner of Hwa Young, who has had five stars consecutively since opening.”

The host swallowed and looked down, “My apologies.”

Jay disregarded him, walking over to the one who you were assuming was the owner of this place, “Kim Seokjin,” Jay said, shaking the man’s hand, “Pleasure seeing you again.”

“Well, the pleasure is all mine!” Jin laughed, “Congratulations on your restaurant being a success, I’ll have to stop by soon again.”

Jay nods, “I’ll cook an amazing steak for you.”

Jin clapped his hands, “Please, I love your steak! I actually got excited to see your name on the waiting list for tonight, I hope you find my restaurant lovely.”

Jay nods again, “I knew I had to come try it out finally.”

Jin looks over at you, “And who might this be?”

Jay smiles even more, pulling you closer but more in front of him, “This is YN, she’ll be joining me tonight.”

“Ahh!” Jin takes your hand, giving it a soft squeeze, “I hope you find this place enjoyable too!”

You shyly nod, “I bet I will.”

A few shouts happen from the kitchen and Jin’s smile drops with a sigh, “Duty calls.”

“I know how that is,” Jay said, shaking Jin’s hand once again, “See you later man.”

Jin starts to walk off, “Of course! Also! Tell your sister I said hello!”

And then he was off and out of sight.

“Follow me to your table,” The host said, leading the two of you to a table and leaving you with the menus.

“I didn’t know you had a sister,” You said, looking around the restaurant even more, feeling ten times worse about what the check would look like after the meal was over.

“Uhh, yeah,” he says, looking over the menu. He realized he hadn’t mentioned his sister much, “She’s who my best friend is engaged to, sorry I never made that clear.”

You washed over with embarrassment, remembering how he had told you about her and maybe you just didn’t put two and two together. “Don’t apologize,” you quickly said, sliding your leg to wrap around his under the table, “I remember you talking about her now.”

Jay looks up at you, his heart doing flips at your smile. At the way your ponytail falls over your shoulder and how your breasts are just…out.

He forced himself to look back at the menu, feeling his slacks tightening against him.

You caught him multiple times throughout dinner staring at your chest. He shifts his legs away from yours only for you to chase after them. It made you feel good knowing he was looking at you like a dessert he couldn’t wait to devour. You weren’t the type of girl to go chasing after sex but with Jay? He was making you want to chase anything that had to do with him. You could tell by his eyes he wanted you to.

So who were you to not take this opportunity to tease him?

You kept rubbing your legs against him, folding your arms in a way to push your breasts together or lift them up and Jay clocked each and every moment you started to make after that. Watching how you’d flip your hair off your shoulder to expose your neck more, how you’d run your fingers down your exposed arms slowly in a way of showing him how you’d touch him.

It took Jay everything to get past this dinner, silently begging the waitress to hurry with the check so he could pay and bang you later.

He followed behind you as you walked out of the restaurant, his eyes staring at how the dress hugged your waist, showing the outline of your hips and ass, how the ends of the dress blew in the wind and hit your thighs. He couldn’t handle it anymore. You teased him the entire night. And he wasn’t going to just let you off the hook.

You barely made it to the car before his hands were on your hips and twirling you around, pinning your back against his car, “You think you can just tease me the whole night and walk away from it?” he whispers, pressing his hard length against your stomach, face inches from yours.

This is what you wanted, but you still couldn't stop from acting surprised. You figured he would have at least waited to jump your bones when he dropped you off at your apartment.

“Don’t look so surprised, baby,” he pressed his cock harder against you, “You started this.”

So you just smile at him, “You kept staring,” you teased more, “How could I not get back at you when you have a staring problem?”

Jay chuckles, taking your chin between his thumb and index finger, “You’re lucky I love them bratty,” he lifts your chin up inching his face closer to yours, his lips brushing yours, “I’d like to tame that bratty attitude of yours.”

Your knees buckled, but with his weight on you, it stopped you from falling to the ground in front of him, “Then tame it,” you whispered.

He didn’t waste another moment, pressing his lips so fiercely against yours, moving together in perfect rhythm. His fingers slid from your chin to your jaw, cupping your face as his thumb rubbed against your cheek. The hand at your waist snaked up to your breast, squeezing and loving the way the plush slid between his fingers. He moans against your mouth, pulling away and resting his forehead on yours, “I’d love to tame you in my bed,” he breathed, hand reaching for the car door handle, “Get in the car.”

The drive to his apartment felt like it took forever when it was only a short ten minutes. His lips were back on yours before the door to his apartment even closed. His hands were already pulling down the straps of your dress as he slid out of his shoes and you kicked yours off, leaving them at the front door as he dragged you down the main entrance hall. He stopped to push you against the wall, sliding the top half of your dress down to your waist, revealing the matching emerald green lace bra. You giggled at the look of pure pleasure on his face as he bent down to kiss the tops of your breast, his thumb looping between the fabric of the other and grazing your nipple. You softly moaned at the touch, your thighs rubbing together.

Jay removed himself from you, pulling the dress over your hips and down to the floor. Jay was in complete awe. You planned for this by the pure fact you were wearing a matching laced bra and underwear set. His cock twitched against his slacks. He didn’t want to wait anymore. He takes your hands and pulls you towards him, lips and tongue finding home in your mouth as he drags you further into the apartment, leaving your dress forgotten about at the entrance.

Jay fumbled with the door handle to his bedroom, finally getting it open and dragging you in, closing and locking the door behind him. He pushed you onto his bed, loving the way you looked against his bedsheets. You too were growing impatient, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra, dangling it in front of him before tossing it into the void of his room.

“Fuck, baby,” he smirks, sliding his tongue against his cheek, his hand working on the buttons of his dress shirt, “So impatient for daddy’s cock?” You nodded, cupping your breasts and squeezing them, eyes pleading with him. His shirt hit the floor in the same motion of getting on his knees in front of you, taking your thighs and pulling you to the edge of the bed and his fingers digging into the laced fabric and pulling them down your legs. He hissed at how wet you were, seeing how it pooled from your heat, “So fucking wet, so fucking pretty,” he whispers, rubbing his knuckle against your clit.

You arched your back at his touch, squeezing your breasts tighter, “Jay,” you moaned, “Please.”

“Hmm, please what, princess?”

“Do something…” you begged.

He slid two fingers into your cunt, your back arching more and a gasp escaping your lips, “You sound so pretty,” he cooed, slowly pumping his fingers in and out, “Be a good girl for daddy and you’ll get what you want, okay?” you nodded, and his movements stopped, “Use your words.”

“Yes,” you gasped, rocking your hips against his fingers to feel the friction.

He completely pulls his fingers from your pussy, “Yes what?”

“Yes, daddy,” you whimpered at the loss of his touch, “I’ll be a good girl.”

Jay smirks, sliding his two fingers back inside, “Good girl.” Jay loved how submissive you were to him. How fast you folded under his touch. God, it was so fucking hot. Driving him crazy. He kept his eyes locked on the way his fingers slid in and out of you, the lewd, wet sounds your pussy made when he’d push them in, and how you were moaning for him? It was obvious no man has ever fucked you good. Hasn’t fucked you right. But Jay was fixing to change that.

He latched his mouth to your clit, sucking and licking at the sensitive bud, pumping his fingers faster, curling them after finding your weak spot, and hitting it repeatedly. Making it his mission for you to cum on his tongue. You clenched around his fingers, and he chuckled, “Getting close, baby?”

“Y-Yes, da-daddy,” you whimper, moving your hands down your body and tangling them in his blonde hair, “Please let me cum, daddy, I’ve been good.”

Oh, fucking hell I am done for.

Jay switched out his fingers for his tongue, working his thumb in fast circles at your clit. You pulled his hair, chanting out his name as his tongue pushed in and out of you, licking every inch of your heat until the knot snapped and you came on the muscle. Jay moans against your cunt, licking up every last drop of your cum, “Fuck you taste so good, baby.”

You smiled between your pants, lifting yourself up on your elbows to look down at him, his hooded eyes were filled with so much lust, endearment, and happiness. He smiles as his eyes trace from your leaking cunt up to your face, his hands now unbuttoning his slacks and standing up, dropping both the slacks and his boxers down to the floor. Your mouth watered at the size of him, so wide and long, so gurthly. “I’m going to breed the fuck out of this cunt,” he smirks, pumping himself with his right hand as he crawls on the bed, forcing you to scoot up further onto the bed, “Be a good girl for daddy and spread those legs, ya?”

You bit your lip and spread your legs as you were told, him crawling over you and lining his tip to your entrance, he gave you one final look, his eyes asking for permission. You nodded, “Please, fuck me daddy.”

Jay chuckles and smirks at you again, slowly pushing himself into you, both of you releasing a gasp when he bottoms out, “You feel so good,” he groans, slowly sliding himself out, and quickly snapping back in. He didn’t wait to give you time to adjust to his size, he couldn’t wait. You feel too good and so tight around him. Squeezing his cock with such pleasure, how could he not move? Wanting nothing more than to split this cunt apart with his dick.

Jay worked himself faster inside you, taking your hands and pinning them above your head, leaving kisses on your neck and trailing them up your jaw, nipping at the skin as he did so. You wrapped your legs around his waist, squeezing them tightly, “F-feel s-so good d-daddy,” you moan, tilting your head to the side to give him more access to your neck.

“Hmm, fucking you so good you can’t speak without a stutter?” he pumped himself faster, completely taking your hands in his, squeezing them tight, “Haven’t ever been fucked this good, have you?”

You shake your head, “Only you.”

“Fuck, yessssss,” he hisses, his hip bones knocking into yours, surely leaving bruises to appear in the morning. Jay lifts up, removing your legs from his waist and flipping you over, raising your hips up and shoving your face down into the pillows, “Fuck you look so pretty face down ass up for daddy,” he growls, digging his fingers into your waist as he fucked into you, wrapping his legs around yours to spread them out wider. He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, not with how tightly your cunt squeezed around him, “Finna cum, baby,” he breathed, “Gonna fill this pretty cunt so full of my cum,” he flung his head back, “Wanna breed this pussy so fucking bad.”

“Cum inside me,” you lifted up to look at him, seeing how fucked out his face was, how blown out his pupils were, his bottom lip swollen from how hard he must have been biting it to keep himself calm, “Breed me.”

“Fuck,” he groans, “Baby don’t talk like that to me, you’re driving me crazy.”

You pushed your ass up against him, wanting to feel him as deep inside you as possible, “Please.”

He couldn’t hold out anymore, not with you begging for him to cum in you. He was folding. Jay's thrusts got sloppy, giving it a good two more pushes and he was spilling into you. His hips smacked to your ass, trying to break the barrier of keeping him from completely tearing your pussy apart as he came deep. It didn’t help that you were pushing back against him as if you, too, wanted him as far and deep as possible.

Once he came down from his high, he laid his chest to your back, rolling you both over to your side and pulling a blanket over your bare bodies. His cock was still buried in your cunt, but you didn’t care. He held you close, hands gently tracing up and down the side of your waist as he left soft kisses on your shoulder, “Get some rest, YN.” You didn’t realize how tired you were until those words. He finally slipped out from you, quickly climbing out of the bed and slipping out the room but quickly returning all the same with a warm towel in his hand, “Let me clean you up first.”

Jay pulled back the blanket, and spread your legs, gently pressing the warm towel to your heat, wiping you clean. You felt so loved in this moment. You’ve hooked up with plenty of guys before, but none of them has taken care of you like this afterward. Or hell, take care of you during. It was different, a good different, but it still didn’t stop you from asking him why.

Jay just laughs, “I told you there’s no limits when it comes to me, princess treatment only.”

Also because you’re making me want to do things I’ve never done for anyone else.

This was also a first for Jay, doing aftercare for someone. Usually, after he fucks he kicks the women out of his room and goes on about his day normally. But you? You make him want to take care of you.

Once you are clean, Jay tosses the towel into his dirty clothes hamper and climbs back into bed with you, pulling you close to his chest and making sure you are covered enough with the blanket, pressing a kiss to your forehead. And soon enough, you both fell asleep.

—

You woke up the next morning before Jay did. You slowly rolled over to see him lying on his chest, both arms pushed underneath the pillow and soft snores escaping his lips. You smiled at him, gently pushing his dyed hair from his face.

Your stomach growled, a bit too loud for your liking, scared it would wake him up, but he just kept snoozing. You slowly climbed out of his bed, taking his boxers and pulling up up and over your hips and taking it upon yourself to open his drawers, taking out a gray sweatshirt and pulling it over your head. It was an oversized fit, but it was comfy and smelt like him.

After everything Jay did for you last night, the least you could do was make breakfast for him. He owned a five-star restaurant and was an amazing cook, he had to have plenty of things to make for breakfast. You carefully tipped toed to his door and slipped out, thinking about the possible things you could make. Some sausage and bacon and eggs. Maybe pancakes or waffles—or even both—with some syrup and butter. Your mouth watered at all the breakfast food items.

Before you could turn the corner of the hallway, you smelt food alright being made and your foot kicked something on the floor. You quickly looked down to whatever it was you kicked to see…a baby toy??

You quickly looked up as you rounded the corner, seeing four pairs of eyes on you and a baby sitting in a high chair in the kitchen.

You felt your face heat up. Who are these people?! What are they doing in his apartment? Why is there a baby here? Did he secretly have a kid and not tell you? The baby had his nose, and she even smiled like he does with one corner of the lip curling upwards. You all just stared at each other, specifically the woman sitting in front of the baby.

The silence is broken when the male standing behind the woman laughs, his head whipping to the dark red-haired male sitting across from the woman at the table, and the other one at his side, “You both owe me a hundred bucks!”

The woman turned around and faced the one behind her, slapping his arm, “You took a bet on it?!?”

The slap didn’t even faze him as he kept smiling, “Fuck yeah I did!”

She turned and faced back at you with concern on her face, “I am so sorry about them.”

You were at a loss for words, mostly out of pure confusion.

“Hey, baby,” Jay’s soft voice said, him appearing at your side and leaning against the archway of the wall, “Was wondering where you went.”

One of the males cleared their throats, and Jay’s smile faded as he turned and looked at everyone in the kitchen.

The woman crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes down at him, “Got something to tell us?”

Jay shrugs, trying to play off this awkward situation, “No?”

The one with the moles on his face stood from the table, also crossing his arms, “We have rules here.”

Jay was the one laughing now, “This is my apartment.”

“Yeah, but we all pay the bills here too!” The woman snapped, “The three stooges even took a bet on you, big brother.”

Big brother…That’s his sister.

You quickly looked at him, pleading with your eyes for him to explain. He sighs, placing a hand on your back, “Everyone this is YN,” he takes a deep breath in, “YN, this is my sister __, her fiancé, and my best friend Jake is behind her. Heeseung is the redhead and Sunghoon is the other. These are my roommates and childhood friends.”

You looked at each of them and it made sense. You noticed last night there were more doors on either side of the hallway. You should have known he had roommates. You just didn’t think it was the same people he talked about to you. Your eyes fell back to the baby girl, her chewing on the spoon she held in her small hands.

“And that precious bundle of joy,” he said pointing a finger to the baby, “Is Hwa Young, my niece.”

Hwa Young. He named his restaurant after his niece.

Any worry finally left you. Watching as Jay walked around you and up to Hwa, her little smile growing big the closer he got to her. Her arms reaching out and cooing for him. Jay picked her up from the high chair, holding her tightly to his chest and pressing kisses all over her small face. Her hands grasped at his white shirt for dear life as her giggles filled the apartment.

You studied them—all of them— as they watched Jay and Hwa. You could tell by the looks of endearment that everyone in that kitchen was a family, and you were the outsider.

“YN!” His sister called to you and waved you over, “Please come join us, it’s not every day my brother lets us meet his dates.”

You slowly walked across the living room and into the kitchen, getting a better look at the people around you. Jay and his sister looked so much alike, mostly in their noses. It was obvious Hwa got the Park nose gene. Jake wrapped his arms around her shoulders, leaning his head against her. Hwa had his eyes and a lot of his facial structure, an exact copy and paste beside the nose. “Jay actually never lets his dates stay overnight,” Jake said, clearly poking fun at Jay, “We made a bet on if you were still here or not.”

Jay shot daggers at his best friend, “Why the fuck are you three making those stupid ass bets?!”

Sunghoon shrugged, “Kind of hard not to when we all wake up to see an extra pair of shoes and a green dress in the hallway.”

Fuck. The dress. You and Jay both had the realization of the forgotten dress, looking at each other with embarrassment.

“Maybe next time, don’t leave clothes in the main entrance, stupid ass brother.” his sister teased, sticking her tongue out at him.

Jay stuck his tongue out back, “Shut it, stinks.”

The kitchen became loud, but so full of life as the five of them bickered back and forth but still laughed and smiled all the same.

“YN,” his sister calls for you, slinging Jake’s arms off her shoulders and standing from the chair, “Do you need extra clothes? You can borrow some of mine.”

You nodded, smiling at her, “I’d like that actually.” She took your hand and dragged you into what you assumed was her and Jake’s bedroom. A small crib sat in the corner of the room beside a dresser. She pulls out a pair of sweatpants and panties, “I don’t know how you feel about wearing another female's underwear, but I don’t mind at all. It’ll just be until we can wash the clothes you came here in.”

You accepted the clothing, “No this is perfect, thank you for being so sweet to me.”

She smiled, “I apologize for my brother, you looked…shocked to see all of us. I’m assuming he didn’t tell you.”

You shook your head, “I knew of you guys, just not that…”

“We all lived together?” you nodded again, “Yeah, Jongseong is very protective, to say the least. He more than likely didn’t tell you upfront because of that protection.” You gave her a confused look, what could Jay be so protective about?

“It’s about Hwa and __,” you turned to see Jake walking in, “Jay is super protective over his sister and niece. Honestly, probably even you too, considering you stayed overnight.”

You tried to not blush, “I am assuming that’s not something that happens here?”

They both shook their heads, “Jay normally kicks them out right after,” his sister sighs, “But you’re different. He talks about you all the time.”

Okay, NOW you were blushing. He talked about you? You couldn’t believe it.

Jay yells something at Sunghoon about messing up pancake batter, causing the two in front of you to laugh.

“Guess we should go back to make sure he doesn’t kill Hoon,” Jake said and pressed a kiss to his fiancé's forehead.

“Welcome to the circus, YN,” she said, giving you a wink, “I am actually really happy you’re here. There’s too much testosterone in this place.”

Jake chuckles as you both follow him out of the room, you slipping into the bathroom to change into the clothes she gave you and returning back to the kitchen. You watched the five roommates banter back and forth. Teasing and laughing as breakfast was being made. Little Hwa sat in her chair eating cereal without a care in the world.

It was obvious the bonds these five had ran deep. You kind of felt bad to just stomp on in. But they all accepted you. Teasing Jay about you and you about him. After a while, you too started teasing and laughing along with them, as if you, too, grew up with them.

Jay wrapped his arm around you, resting his arm on the back of the chair you sat on, his thumb making figure eights on your shoulder, “It’s not too late to back out, you know,” he whispers to you, his eyes glued to Heeseung as he picked up Hwa and spun her around, placing a kiss to her cheek. You felt Jay tense up and stayed that way until Hwa was being held gently to Heeseung’s chest, “There’s still time to bounce out.”

You looked up to him, placing a hand on his knee, “I’ll gladly join this circus.”

Jay smiled and pulled you in for a quick kiss. The other men groaned and made gross sounds, “Shut up! Specifically you Jake! I don’t wanna hear it!” Jay snapped.

Everyone laughs. You could indeed get used to this little chaotic circus.

—

You’ve bounced in and out of the Park/Sim/Lee residence over the next couple of weeks. You felt at home there, mostly after getting to know each of them a bit better. Specifically Jay’s sister. She was probably the happiest one to have your presence there.

You and Jay have also gone on multiple dates since then and have not only made love to you in his bed but also your own, taking care of you each and every time. It was pure bliss, truly.

The only issue was…he’s yet to ask you to be his girlfriend. Which honestly, didn’t completely bother you. But at the same time…did? You’ve seen the way other women look at him when the two of you go out. You see how they drool over him at his restaurant. To say you were jealous was an understatement. Jake has told you the old stories about them going out to clubs and bars during their college days. How they were back in high school. Jay was always a heartthrob. You wanted that power to call him yours. Of being his. To go out and be able to show him off to the world. To hit up clubs, bars, and parties with him wrapped around you.

And that’s exactly how you found yourself here in your current situation, all because you opened your mouth to his sister, her ears perking up at the words: clubs, bars, and parties.

You fiddled your thumbs as you were sandwiched between Heeseung and __, with Sunghoon, Jake, and __’s best friend Shotaro, sitting across from you.

Jay stood at the edge of the table, his pen touching the notepad, “Run that by me one more time,” he said with a dead calm.

“I said, corn lover,” his sister said through her teeth, “Let’s go out tonight. It’s Friday.”

Jay just stares at her and looks down at his notepad, “You have ten seconds to tell me what you want for lunch or else I am walking away.”

“Dude,” Heeseung groans, throwing his head back against the booth, “We haven’t hit up a club in so long!”

Jay drops his hands to his side, “Yeah because we have jobs and a baby to look after.” His sister just shrugs and crosses her arms, clearly pouting, “Who would watch Hwa?” Jay finally asked, breaking at his sister's will. She just smiles, glancing back at him. He snapped her name, “Who. Will. Watch. Hwa.”

There’s that protectiveness over his niece.

Jay shot his eyes to Shotaro, “I am guessing you aren’t watching her.”

Shotaro smiled and shook his head, “Nope. I am coming with.”

Jay’s eyes shot to Jake, “You better speak up about who is taking care of my niece before I strangle you.”

Jake raised up his hands, “Dude, you think I’d just leave my daughter at home or something?”

Jay kept quiet, but his stare was relentless.

“Oh, for fuck sake,” his sister groans, “Mom and Dad are watching her tonight. They are driving in within the next couple of hours.”

Jay relaxed and let out a sigh of relief knowing Hwa would be taken care of by someone he trusted. His eyes finally land on you, “Are you okay with going out?”

You nod, “It was…kind of my idea.”

Jay smiles softly at you, “Fine, I’ll go.”

“Yes!” The five of them chanted, leaving Jay to walk away with a roll of his eyes.

“Hey!” Sunghoon yelled after him, “I am fucking starving! Come back here!”

Jay flips him the bird, “I already know want you hooligans want, fuck off.”

Laughter fills the booth you all sat at. Jay’s sister hugs you and rocks back and forth, “It’s going to be a blast!”

—

You crossed your arms, standing closer to __, your eyes searching the club.

You all arrived a little over an hour ago but it didn’t take long for Jay, Jake, Heeseung, and Sunghoon to be on the dance floor with alcohol in their hands. Shotaro wrapped his arm around her shoulder, rocking her back and forth to the club music as he took a sip from his beer can.

“Why aren’t you two out with the others?” you asked, clinging to her other side, eyes finally landing on the boys on the dance floor. They laughed and sang to the music and drank their alcohol, tossing their hands in the air and jumping when everyone else did.

She smiles at you, “As you’ve been told, those four are attached at the hip, they do everything together. I’ve been out with them enough times to let them have their moment first, they’ll come running back when they get it out of their systems.”

You just nodded, seeing how obvious it was that this friendship ran deep, that you were still an outsider.

“Don’t look so sad, YN,” Taro nudges you, “They’ll come running when they miss the girls, they always do.”

“It’s mostly when one of them breaks off, the others follow like ducklings or head back to me,” she laughs, “But things are different now, you’re with us.” she wraps her arms around you, squeezing you, “You make my brother happy, I haven’t seen him like this before.”

You weren’t sure what to say, so you just smiled, feeling happy that you made a change in him.

“Anyway the real question is why aren’t you two drinking?” Taro asked, raising a brow, “I feel alone over here.”

You wanted to drink, but you were expecting to do it by Jay’s side or even with __, but she wasn’t drinking, so you just clung to her side.

“Well,” She started, giving a small shrug.

“You aren’t pregnant again are you?!” Taro quickly pulled her to him, “Please tell me if you are!”

“No!” she snapped, pushing her best friend slightly, “But we are actively trying…when we can. So I do not want to have any alcohol in my system.”

It made sense. So Shotaro nods and wraps his arm back around her, “Whatever you say, princess.”

You find the boys in the crowd again, seeing a hoard of girls now focused around them, “Guess they won’t be coming back to us soon…” you sigh.

She looks out into the crowded dance floor and laughs, “We have beautiful men, what can we say?”

Jake gave the females a small, “Sorry ladies, I have a fiancé and a child. I’m a taken man.” He shrugs his shoulders, making eye contact with __, “Actually she’s standing over there and I miss her, so bye!”

Heeseung groaned at the loss of Jake, but reached his hands out to the ladies, “We won’t leave ya lovely ladies here, dance with us.”

They laughed and cooed as they surrounded themselves around Jay, Heeseung, and Sunghoon. But Jay was off on another planet.

He was watching you.

He watched as Jake arrived at you three, his arms wrapping around his sister and kissing her, watching how you smiled at them.

The women in front of Jay placed their hands on his biceps and shoulders, talking to him, but their words went in one ear and out the other. He was too focused on you.

Before you, Jay would dive right into whatever these girls were offering him. To drink and get drunk and either take one of them to his bed or find himself in one of theirs. But ever since he saw you, it’s only been you.

You made eye contact with him, your smile fading seeing how the other girls clung to him. But Jay only smiled at you, taking the girl's hands and pulling them off him, “Sorry, I have to go,” the girls pouted, asking him to stay, “I belong to someone else,” he said, his eyes filling with endearment for you, “She’s waiting for me.”

Sunghoon grabbed the girls, pulling them towards him, giving Jay a wink, “Go to her.”

Jay pushed his way through the crowd, eyes still locked on you. He loved the cute little black skirt you were wearing, loved how it fitted so tight against your thighs, shaping your hips perfectly. Love how the black tank top was also fitted, cupping your breasts nicely and showing off a bit of your tummy. It was sexy and he had to admit, he was jealous knowing his friends and other men in this club were seeing you like this. So dolled and hot. It was making his temperature rise and his pants to grow tighter. He wanted you. Not just in a sexual way at this moment, but all of you. You do something to him, drive him crazy, and he’s falling hard for you.

He crashed hard into you, pulling you so tightly against him, hands cupping your face and pressing his lips to yours. Even though he was only away from you for a short time, he missed you. You could taste the alcohol on his lips mixing with the taste of his vanilla chapstick and the smell of his cologne. It was intoxicating, making you drunk just off him.

His sister, best friend, and Shotaro all cooed at the two of you, “How cute!”

Jay chuckles against your lips then rests his forehead against yours, sliding his hands down to your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours, “Let’s get away from these heathens,”

“Heathens?!” his sister scoffs, “As if!”

Jay smiles at his sister, quickly reaching over and ruffling her hair, “You'll always be a heathen, stinks.” Before she could start protesting, Jay was pulling you off to the other end of the club, his friend's laughter fading out as the distance grew.

“Where are we going?” you asked him, squeezing his hand tighter and smiling so wide.

“Away from public eyes, or well, my family's eyes,” You raised a brow, confused. But your question came with the answer when he pulled you into the corner of the club, pressing your body against it, face making contact with the cool wall. Jay snapped his hips against your ass, rubbing his hard cock against you, “I need you, I can’t wait much longer,” he ran his hands down your waist and to your thighs, “You’re so sexy, I hate knowing everyone else is seeing you in this outfit.”

You purposely dressed this way, not for everyone else, but for Jay. You wanted to look good for him, wanted him to fall to his knees for you, and it seemed to be working.

He placed kisses on your neck, breathing your scent in, “Fuck I love it when you wear this perfume, it gets me going.” You also purposely wore this perfume. It was Jay’s favorite and every time you’ve worn it he always ended up balls deep inside you. He loves it and can’t get enough of it, “You make me so crazy, baby.”

Jay needed to feel you…right now. His hands worked their way back up your thighs, pulling the skirt up and over your hips, quickly working fast to unbutton his pants and push them and his boxers down far enough to pull his length out, rubbing the tip against your clothed cunt.

“Jay,” you gasp, pressing your fingers into the wall, “Someone might see.”

“It’ll be quick,” he moans in your ear, “It’s very dark in this corner, no one will even notice,” his index finger pulling your panties to the side, feeling your slick pool onto his fingers, “Plus you're already so wet for daddy, what kind of man would I be to not satisfy his woman?”

His woman?

Jay pumped his index finger in and out of your cunt, licking his lips at how wet you were, he didn’t even need to prep you. Jay wasted no more time, lifting your hips high enough and prodding your entrance with his tip, slowly pushing in until the tip kissed your cervix, “Fuck you’re so wet for me,” he moans again, taking a deep breath in before sliding all the way out and pushing himself back in, “so fucking wet.” Jay was able to pump himself inside you with ease, leaning his chest to your back and hands resting at your hip, pushing you down with each thrust he made. If this was to be a quickie, then he needs to be well, quick.

You bit your tongue in an attempt to drown out your moans, probably not needing to anyway since the music in the club was so loud, but still you did it anyway, being scared of getting caught. But Jay was loving this, relishing in the pleasure of the possibility of getting caught. It was exciting. “My girl, being so good for me, taking me like this.”

“But,” you gasp, “I’m not your girl—“ moans out in pleasure from him picking up speed, “girlfriend.”

Jay was taken aback at your words, what do you mean you weren’t his girlfriend? You’ve been seeing each other for a while now, was it not so obvious you two were together? Jay realized then maybe you just need that reassurance, that physical label. Which was fine, Jay didn’t mind making it official official. He would be so happy to do so. Anything for you.

“Baby, you’re mine, got it? We’re dating. You belong to me, and I belong to you.”

You smirked, resting your body completely against the wall and hiking your ass higher, giving your boyfriend more access to fuck into you harder. And Jay did, he picked up speed and slammed his hips into you harder, squeezing your hips and digging his nails into your skin as you clenched around him, “Baby, I won’t last much longer if you keep squeezing me like that, please keep squeezing me, fuck it feels so good.”

You clenched around him again and his moans filled your ear, his head resting against yours as he panted and chanted out your name, his thrusts becoming sloppy but unrelenting. You welcomed his seed as it spewed inside you, painting your walls like an art piece.

Jay smirked as he slowly pulled out and replaced your panties and pulled down your skirt, “Let’s return to the others now, ya?” he asked, readjusting his pants back into place, “I want to show off my girlfriend.”

You took your hands in his, smiling at him as he led you back into the heart of the club.

—

“Absolutely not,” Jay said, waving his hand at Jake to move out of the way from the TV, “You make the perfect window, MOVE!”

Jake rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, “Come on man please!”

You were lying on the couch with Jay, sitting between his legs with your back to his chest. The two of you were enjoying a horror movie of a masked killer when Jake stepped into the frame.

Jay flung his head back into the armrest, “Dude, ask someone else.”

Jake clicked his tongue, “I’ve asked everyone. Hee and Hoon are obviously at work, Shotaro is out of town for today for his job, you’re the only one who can watch Hwa tonight.”

Jake was desperate and it was obvious, “What’s got you so desperate for?” you teased, wiggling your eyebrows, “Got a hot date?”

You love that you’ve finally gotten closer with everyone in the apartment to the point of joking and teasing like they do with each other. You can even just randomly show up, knock on the door and they let you in like you belong there. You and Jay also have been officially a couple for three months now, and life with Jay has been perfect. You’ve never been this happy.

Jake smirked, “I do, actually.”

Jay groans, “You just want to fuck my sister, brother. Not allowed.”

Jake narrows his eyes, “I am engaged to her? I knocked her up?? I’m allowed to fuck her? Brother I haven’t had sex in almost two weeks, I’m desperate here.”

“Dude,” Jay snapped, “Stop talking, I don’t want to hear it.”

The two boys started their normal banter. You found it cute, honestly. Seeing Jay all worked up and being overprotective while Jake does all the teasing.

“Jay,” Jake said, putting his hands together in a praying format, “Please, we don’t trust anyone else with Hwa but you and YN. Plus if you say no to me, __ is just going to beg you, and you can’t say no to her.”

Jay knew he was right, he couldn’t tell his sister no. Never was able to, clearly, she’d never listen anyway, hinting at the fact she broke the off-limits rule and fucked his best friend and well, here they all were now.

“We’ll watch her,” you answered for Jay, “Enjoy your time with __.” You didn’t mind watching Hwa, it honestly gave you more time to spend with her. She was always either attached to Jake, __, or Jay. Sometimes with Heeseung and Sunghoon, but mostly with her parents and uncle.

Jay pinched your thigh and was ready to protest, but the deed was done. Jake clapped his hands, “Thank you so much!” Jake raised his hands in victory, walking towards his room, “I’m getting so pussy drunk tonight.”

“Sim Jaeyun!!” Jay snapped, taking a pillow from behind him and tossing it across the room at Jake, completely missing from Jake sliding to the side and rushing into the room, his laughter being heard from the other side of the door, “Fucking prick.”

You giggled, “Jay, let him have his fun.”

Jay scoffed, “He just wants to get her pregnant again.”

You sat up and turned to look at him, “Is that such a bad thing?” you teased, “You’d be an uncle to two.”

Jay did kind of like the sound of that, mostly if his sister would have a boy and all the things he’d teach that kid and show him how to be cool. But he’d be done for if she’d had another girl. Jake would probably keel over too.

So he waved off the idea, “As exciting as that sounds, this apartment was only meant for four people, there’s six living here. We don’t have the space for a seventh.”

You crawled on top of him, straddling him, “It’s seven including me when I am here.”

He smirks at you, hands now rubbing up and down your thighs as his cock starts to harden, “But you don’t live here.

You traced your fingers up and down his biceps, “This is basically my second home,” you lean forward, brushing your nose against his, “So I am the seventh.” You living here with him didn’t sound like a bad idea, he wouldn’t have to miss you so much. You’d easily just move right into his bedroom with him. The idea was so tempting.

Jay lifted his face up, brushing his lips against yours, “You going to help pay the bills?” he whispered, sliding his thumbs up to the hems of your shorts, slipping them under, “Since you’re the seventh here.”

You softly kissed him, then rubbed your nose against his, “No limits with you, remember? Princess treatment only.”

Jay chucked, taking your neck with his hand and bringing your lips back to his, deepening the kiss. Oh, how bad he wanted to take you back to his bedroom right now. But the front door opening and the sounds of his sister scoffing took that temptation away.

“Is this how you felt when you caught me and Jake?” she scrunches her nose, resting Hwa against her hip, “No wonder you’re always grumpy after, this is gross.”

Jay just shakes his head, rubbing his thumb against your neck, “Get used to it. If I had to deal with it, you have to deal with it too, stinks.”

Hwa’s coos and giggles had Jay smiling, his heart feeling with so much warmth. Jake came out of the room right after, Hwa reaching her arms out for her father, “Hello my sweet girl,” Jake cooed at her, bringing her close to his chest and kissing her chubby cheeks, “How was running errands with mommy?”

“We did all the fun little shopping!” She said, pinching her daughter's cheeks, “All that fun stuff and now we’re going to have fun with Uncle Jay and Aunt YN, now aren’t we?”

Aunt YN…??

“Yeah, a lot more fun than what you’ll be having.” Jay teased, lifting you off him and standing from the couch. The moment Hwa saw Jay walking towards her, her little arms stretched out, little fingers flexing into a fist and back out, speaking little babbles as if saying “Uncle Jay! Hold me!” He took her in his arms, rubbing his nose to her small one, her giggles filling the apartment.

“Right,” his sister said, “You’ll be having a lot more fun than us.”

“Obviously, because Uncle Jay and Aunt YN know how to party, isn’t that right?”

You were still being thrown for a loop at being called Aunt, but you nodded anyway.

Soon enough it was just the three of you in the apartment. Both you and Jay sat on the floor with Hwa as she played with her building blocks.

“Aunt YN, huh?” you said, finally deciding to bring it up.

Jay helped Hwa stack her blocks just for her to push them over and giggle, waiting for him to restock them, “Of course,” he says so casually, “You’re here enough to be considered one. My sister wouldn’t have addressed you as such if she didn’t think you’d fit that title. Heeseung and Sunghoon get called Uncle as well. Plus you love Hwa just as much as the rest of us, it’s perfect.”

You felt your heart warming up at the thought of it, being a part of this little family. Hwa looked over to you, as if she could read your mind, and she smiled, holding her hands up to you. Now you know why Jay is always so ready to burn the world for this little girl. You picked her up and placed her in your lap, her little giggles making your heartache in such a loving way. You pulled her hair from her face, and placed kisses on her soft face.

Jay’s heart immediately beat faster, his hands dropping the wooden block. Oh, he was in love with you. Seeing the way you were with his niece just now was the final piece to the puzzle for him. He’s in love with you.

“Let’s have a baby.”

You whipped your head up to your boyfriend, “What?”

Jay’s eyes dropped from yours to Hwa, watching how her little fingers wrapped around yours, “Did I stutter?”

Your face heated up and you awkwardly laughed, “Funny joke, Jay,” you looked back to Hwa, holding her tighter, “We’ve only been together for a short while, kind of early to be talking about kids, no?”

Jay moved closer to you, taking your chin between his fingers and forcing you to look up at him, “I don’t care how short of time I’ve known you, it would be worth all the while having a baby with you.”

You just smile at him, “Jay, give us a bit more time, we can discuss having children down the line.” Jay chuckles, kissing your lips then sitting back down, “Besides,” you sigh, “You still need to meet my parents.”

Ah, the parents. The two people who do nothing but give you hell. Jay’s face of pure irritation was on display, showing you how he didn’t like the idea, but he knew it was important to you, so he relaxed his face with a sigh, “Name when and where baby, I’ll be there.”

You nodded, making a mental note to call your parents later, being distracted by little Hwa and her yawns, her trying to force her eyes to stay open.

“I think it’s time for someone’s bedtime,” Jay whispers, taking Hwa from you, “I’ll go put her down.”

Jay disappeared into Jake’s and __ bedroom and returned back into the living room just as quickly, carefully shutting the bedroom door behind him. Jay hasn’t been able to get the image of you pregnant with his child out of his head ever since he mentioned it. And oh man, did the picture look sexy. Jay started to realize why Jake felt the way he did about his sister because it’s the way he’s feeling about you.

It made him hard, truly did. His shorts were growing tighter against him. His eyes were glued to your mouth and how your lips relaxed into a soft pout as you stared off at TV. Jay started palming himself and dropped down onto the couch, “Hey, babe?” You turned and looked at him, heat flushing your entire body. Jay barely had sat down on the couch and already had his shorts and boxers pulled down, hand pumping his cock, “We have a problem,” Jay gasped at his own strokes, “I need you to fix it, got too horny thinking how sexy you’d look with my baby in you.” Your mouth watered and rubbed your thighs together. You loved how pretty his hand looked as it rose up and down his shaft, how his veins popped out. Taking notice of how when his hand reached the top, precum would slowly pump out the tip and leak down the side, “Come suck me off, princess, be a good girl for daddy.”

You didn’t even have to think twice before you fell to your knees and took his length in your hand, tongue stretched out and flatting against the head, licking up the dripping precum. Jay hissed, flinging his head back against the couch, “Don’t tease me,” he warns, hand getting tangled up in your hair, “Be a good girl and I’ll fuck you so—“ his words were cut off by you taking him fully in your mouth, your nose touching his pelvis, “Holy fuck baby.”

His fingers clenched tighter in your hair, moving with the motion of you bobbing your head. Jay forced his head down, mouth slacked and panting, watching how your perfect mouth sucked him so good. It was driving him insane. Mostly when you’d flatten your tongue to take more of him down your throat, your gag reflex sending vibrations onto him. Jay was definitely jealous of whoever you gave head to first, because whoever that man was got to experience pure heaven firsthand.

His hair was starting to fall into his face, his free hand reaching up and pulling it back, giving him back his direct line of sight to look at you, only to be surprised at already seeing you staring back at him. “Oh, fuck,” he hissed, loving the tears that swelled in your eyes and how you batted them at him, not slowing down your pace at all.

You were going crazy at seeing how blown out his pupils were, how they looked down at you with such pleasure and as if you were the one who put the stars in the sky. You’ve never had a man look at you like this, with so much want and need and pleasure. He has such as much effect on you as you have on him.

“Fuck, princess,” he moans, “Just like that, yeah—fuck—just like that.” This was the best head he’s ever received, and it pissed him off at how fast he was fixing to cum, wanting to relish more of the warmth your mouth gave him but at the same time wanting that release. He was so back and forth, but to his dismay, his cock twitched and threatened to shoot his load, “I’m fixing to cum babe,” he whispers, pressing your head down onto him, “I’m cumming.”

His warm seed shot at the back of your throat, your tongue still rubbing against his shaft as he bucked his hips slowly, chasing out his high.

Once he came by from reality, he pulled your hair, forcing you off his dick and to look at him, “Did you swallow?” you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out, showing his cum nowhere in sight, “Good fucking girl.” He continued to yank you by your hair, pulling you up into his lap and pressing his lips to yours in a kiss, “Wanna head to your apartment once Jake and my sister return? I want to fuck you and be as loud as possible.”

You nodded, feeling your panties continue to soak from your juices. You prayed for them to get back faster.

—

Jay bounced his leg, not out of nervousness, but pure anger. Your parents sat across from the two of you, eating their dinner like you two weren’t even in the same restaurant as them. The plan was to meet your parents at this restaurant—that your father chose—at six thirty. You and Jay arrived thirty minutes earlier so your parents wouldn’t have to wait but saw they already arrived and ordered their meal. So now you and Jay sat in silence, waiting for your meals to arrive.

“Would it have killed you to wait for us?” you said with cool calm, making sure the ice that your words were laced with hit them hard, “If you were showing up early you could have called me.”

Your mother glanced up at you, eyes somewhat apologetic, but still filled with no care whatsoever, “YN, honey, you know your father runs a tight schedule. He has a lot of things to do.”

“It’s Saturday,” you hissed, “Last time I checked, Dad has the weekends off.”

Your father dropped his fork onto the plate, piercing his eyes at you, “I am a very busy man, YN. You’re lucky we agreed to this dinner tonight.” Jay locked his jaw and clenched his fingers into his slacks, who the fuck does this man think he is? “But, this is for you, so I apologize for arriving early and ordering before you two arrived. Honestly, I just wanted to enjoy my meal before we… discuss.”

Yeah, discuss my fist plowing through your fucking teeth, old man.

Jay was trying to keep calm, to keep a good poker face. These were your parents, he needed to be on his best behavior for you, mostly with how you’ve told them how they both are. Jay fully understands now why you try so hard for them, they have such high standards.

Your father took one last bite of his meal and wiped his face with his napkin, “So, Jay, was it? Tell me about yourself.”

Here we go…

Jay took a deep breath, feeling calmer after feeling your hand rest on his knee, “Yes sir, I grew up in a smaller town about an hour from here. I own and run a restaurant and work part-time with my best friend at his—“

Your father waved him off, “I already know that bullshit, I meant tell me something about yourself that would help make me believe you’re good enough for my daughter?”

Excuse me?

Jay stared blankly at him, “I don’t quite understand what you mean, sir.”

Your father sat back in his chair, crossing his arms, “Do you think you’re actually worthy of my girl? That your little restaurant and part-time job as a software developer would be good enough?”

“With all respect,” Jay said leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table and clasping his hands together, “I made enough money to support your daughter and be financially stable.”

Your father chuckled, “Yeah, only because you have your sister and best friends living under the same roof as you, in an apartment, might I add. With your niece living there too. You have support.”

What was he trying to get at here? “I am very close with my family and best friends. It made more sense for us to stay together—“

“YN this is exactly why you should have continued going to law school,” your father scoffed, waving off Jay again, “So you don’t end up stuck in a ratty apartment with multiple people.”

“Excuse me?” Jay said as calmly as he could, “My apartment is anything but ratty.”

Your father kept his gaze on you, “My daughter only deserves the best, nothing as low as your income and living situations.”

“Dad!” you snapped, “There’s nothing wrong with the amount of money he makes or his living situation.”

Your father shrugged, finally looking at Jay, “YN, he can’t even keep his natural hair color,” he pointed a finger at Jay’s blonde-silver hair, “And his ears are pierced, is that a type of hooligan you want to see yourself with? Stuck in an apartment with multiple other people and a baby? He won’t be able to support you, mostly when you go back to law school and quit your low job at that gardening shop.”

Jay stood to his feet, fists resting on the table, “When she goes back to law school? As in forcing her?”

Your father smirked, “Yes, I’d be paying for it. She needs to follow in my footsteps.”

“But she doesn’t want to,” Jay snarled.

Your father sighs, looking at Jay with such disappointment, “You and your fucked up family won’t ever be good enough for my daughter.”

You quickly grabbed Jay’s arm, using all your strength possible to keep him from walking around the table. Jay was livid. “Talk shit about me all you want, but don’t you dare speak ill of my family!”

“Jongseong,” You called for him, your voice being enough to force him to sit back down in the chair.

“I am in love with your daughter,” Jay said calmly and your heart stopped, he loved you? It wasn’t the way he wanted to confess his love for you, but he was desperate to have some advantage over your father, to prove himself, “I may not make millions, but I make enough to give her the life she wants, a life filled with happiness and no worries. I will always support her dreams and protect her with my life and it goes the same for my family, they love and adore her. I may not have a big fancy house, but I don’t want that. I love the little apartment I share with my sister, my niece, and my best friends. I wouldn’t ask for a better place or people to live with, and if that apartment is where YN wants to spend the rest of her life in, I’d be more than willing to make that happen, and if she wants to be a florist and own her own shop? I’d spend every drop of money I earn to build her a shop.”

You slid your hand down to his hand, twisting your fingers with his and squeezing his hand. Jay looks at you and gives you a small smile, rubbing his thumb over the top of your hand, “I love her, so much. No amount of money or where she came from will ever change that. She’s my soulmate, I am lucky to have her.”

Your mother’s heart was skipping a beat, face softened at the two of you. She quickly looks over at your father, placing a hand on his bicep, “Dear, they are happy.”

Jay looks back at your father with pleading eyes.

“No,” he said with a stern voice, “Love isn’t enough. Not when it’s clearly obvious he only wants what’s between her legs to whore about—“

You weren’t able to stop Jay this time. He moved too fast for you to even register what was happening. One moment your father was sitting in his chair, the next he was on the floor, Jay on top of him with his fist connecting to your father's face.

This…This was Jay’s protection. You’ve heard the stories of how Jay has fought multiple guys growing up when they’ve hurt or talked ill of his sister and friends. Jay was a protector and stood by it.

But this time was different, this was your father he was beating the shit out of, not some random boy on the street.

“Jay!” you yelled, rushing to him and grabbing his shoulders to pull him back, “Stop!”

Jay lifted his fist up, ready to throw another punch but stopped because you asked him to. He took a few deep breaths, staring at your father's bloody nose, “Don’t speak about her like that ever again.”

Your father just smirks, grabbing a handful of Jay’s dress shirt and using all his strength to punch Jay back in the face, the ring your father always wore cutting a gash on Jay’s cheek.

Jay moved to hit him again, but your cries and hands pulling and pleading with him to stop forced him to stand up and back away. His hands found home on your waist and pulled you close to his chest, eyes burning holes in your father.

He stood up with the help of your mother, wiping away the blood from his nose with his sleeve, “No daughter of mine will date such a delinquent! I’ll have his restaurant shut down!”

You pushed Jay off you and stormed to your father, digging your index finger into his chest, “I love that delinquent and I will continue to date him with or without your permission. And you won’t do such a thing as close his restaurant. I know about your dirty deeds as a lawyer, I’ll expose your bullshit so fast!”

“You wouldn’t dare,” your father pressed.

“Fucking try me.” you spat, stepping away from him and giving your mother one last look with apologetic eyes, and walking away, pulling Jay behind you.

She loves me??? She loves me…

Jay couldn’t believe it, “You love me?”

You pulled him out of the restaurant and let go of his hand, “Take me home.”

Jay followed behind you, knowing you were anything but happy right now, “Baby, let’s talk—“

“Take. Me. Home.” You stood at the passenger side door of his car, hand on the handle waiting for him to unlock it.

Jay felt his heart sink, scared shitless about what was to come. He brushed your hand out of the way, unlocked the door, and opened it for you, closing it as soon as you got in.

He just heard you say you loved him indirectly, and now he was terrified he was about to never hear you fully say it to him.

—

The ride back to your apartment was silent, and with each trembling step up the stairs to your front door, Jay grew more scared. He’s never been more scared of anything in his entire life. Losing you? it would end him.

He took you leaving the door open as you walked in as a good sign that he was welcome to come in, so he did. Carefully closing the door behind him and locking it, his hands sweaty as he opens his mouth but no words come out. He knew he had to say something—anything.

You disappeared to the bathroom and returned back out with a first aid kit, “Sit down, please.”

Jay nods, pulling the kitchen table chair out and sitting down, watching you with careful eyes as you pull a chair up closer to him, opening the first aid kit and pulling out some ointment, alcohol wipes, and a bandaid.

You cleaned your hands off and then grabbed another wipe, bringing it to Jay’s cheek and softly dabbing at the cut, “He got me pretty good, didn’t he?” Jay said, trying to make light of the situation, his smile only fading when he saw you weren’t entertaining it. You continued to clean up the wound, dabbing the ointment on the cut and carefully sticking the bandaid to his cheek. He grabbed your wrist before you could move away from him, “Baby, talk to me. Please.”

You looked into his cocoa eyes, “You hit my father.” You pulled your wrist from his grasp, closing the kit and standing up walking back to the living room.

“What was I supposed to do, YN?” He scoffs, chasing after you, “Let him continue to speak about you like that? To let him talk about my family like that?”

You turned to face him, “You could have used your words, not your fists.”

“Right,” Jay chuckles, “Because talking to him was doing so much.”

You knew how your father was, words never meant shit to him. It was always about the money and status. Your father knew using his words was going to be enough to piss off Jay, it’s why he did it, more so in the hopes it would get you to see Jay wasn’t worth it and come back home and fall into the nice pretty line he wants you to walk. You hated that line.

“You don’t understand!” you shouted, “He could ruin your entire life!”

“I don’t give a damn about that!” Jay snapped back, “I know who I am! I have everything I already need and if he decides to try and fuck that over? I say let him try.”

You run your hands through your long hair, getting more stressed by the minute, “I just wanted tonight to go perfect. I wanted my family to see I was happy that I was okay and prayed my father would see that and it would be enough.”

Jay took a step closer to you, brushing his fingers down your cheek, but you took a step back, “Was happy? Was okay? Are you saying you aren’t?” Jay felt like he had the world on his shoulders weighing him down, ready to crush him into the ground.

You shrugged, crossing your arms over your chest and hugging yourself. You didn’t know what else to say at this moment. All you wanted was to prove to your family you were perfectly well off without their help, that Jay was who you wanted and nothing would change it. But Jay letting his emotions get the best of him…

“Please don’t leave me,” he was quick to say, your eyes widening at him, concern on your face that he even thought for a second you’d leave him. Jay was now inches away from you, his hands cupping your face, “I cannot breathe without you. When you’re away from me I feel as if I have no air, that every ounce of it escapes my lungs when you’re not around. I meant it when I said I’m in love with you. My world would end if I ever lost you.”

You wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him closer to you, “Jay,” you whisper, “You’re not going to lose me all because of a small fight. You’re stuck with me.” Jay lets out a shaky breath, resting his forehead against yours. He fully understood how Jake felt when he almost lost his sister, how his heart became a pit of despair and ache. “I love you,” you finally said to him, “I don’t want to live without you.”

Jay kisses you suddenly, pulling you as close as possible to his body, “I love you. Please don’t ever let anyone ever tell you how to live your life,” he said between kisses, “I support you through everything.”

You smile against his lips, “Fuck everyone but you, you’re the only one who gets me.”

He smiles back, sliding his hands from your face to your hands, “Fuck everyone but you.”

Jay leads you to your bedroom, his lips finding home on yours again the minute he lays you down. His hands gently roamed all over your body as he one by one removed your clothing as your hands removed his.

Sex with Jay always left you breathless, but the way he was making love to you right now made you feel dizzy and even more breathless, breathing air into your lungs with each kiss he planted on your lips. Feeling on cloud nine with each thrust he made into you as his hands clasped together with yours and pinned them down against the sheets.

He was careful with you, not rough or fast but slow and gentle but still so full of love. He wanted to show you just how much he was in love with you. Yeah rough sex was fucking fantastic, but genuine love-making sex made him feel so whole. Your soft moans of love and pleasure made his body tingle and goosebumps form on his skin. He loved you so fucking much and he prayed you could feel the love he has for you.

“I love you,” you whisper to him as if you could read his mind, “I love you.”

Jay squeezed your hands and rocked his hips a tiny bit faster, “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Jay chanted his love for you the entire night and continued so even after he came and laid against you as you slept.

—

Jay pushed his sunglasses back on his face, sweat dripping down his cheeks as he pulled you to him, his arm wrapping around your shoulder and you wrapping your arms around his waist.

“It only took a year,” he said, giving you a big smile, “But we finally did it.”

“Just in time for the summer too!” Heeseung laughed, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and Jay’s arm, “YN’s Flower and Gifts!” he smiled, “Has a nice ring to it.”

Sunghoon popped up behind you, resting his chin on the top of your head, “Just in time for the wedding too!”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Jake sighs, “__ was taking way too long to pick out flowers.”

Shotaro glances at Jake, “You both get married next month?!?”

Jay’s sister pinches Taro’s arm, “Listen, I needed the most perfect flowers!! And YN just happens to be the one who is going to give them to me.”

You smile at her, “Damn right!”

“You should have seen the flowers she took care of at the shop she worked at!” Yunjin said, clapping her hands. “YN was born to be a florist!”

You blushed at your best friend, “Stop!”

“No!” she sang, pulling you away from Jay and into her arms, “I’m so proud of you!”

It’s been a year since you and Jay started dating. A year since you’ve found home within his family. It was crazy, silly, and chaotic, but it was perfect.

Not only is Jay’s restaurant as busy as ever and he still worked with Jake part-time too, but he also co-owned your flower shop. When this man said there were no limits with him, he meant it. “I can use your flowers for when we redecorate the restaurant, and we can cater for you when you hold events.” It was the perfect partnership, truly.

“Da-Da!” Hwa cooed, her little legs carrying her over to Jake from her grandparent's side. Jake smiled at her and scooped her up into his arms kissing all over her face.

“Fuck,” Jay sighs, “I still can’t believe she’s already walking and starting to talk.”

“You’re telling me!” Jake said, pulling his fiancé to his side, “We can’t believe it either.”

“Nor the grandparents!” Jay’s mother said, “I remember when the two of you were born, and now you’re both all grown up and I have a grandchild of my own.”

Jay smiled at his mother and father, loving seeing how happy they were for this whole family.

Heeseung and Sunghoon watched Jake and __ cuddle Hwa, Sunghoon nudging Jay’s shoulder, “When are you two having one?”

Jay shot him a glare, “Don’t tempt me.”

You roll your eyes and cling back to your boyfriend, “Should we show them inside?”

He looks down at you, “Excited much?”

You held your finger to your lips, “Super.”

He nods, handing you the keys to the front door.

“Everyone!” you shout at your family, “I welcome you to YN’s Flower and Gifts!” you unlocked the doors and flung them open, leading them inside the shop.

With eyes wide and smiles on their faces, they each trailed around the shop, giving you their congrats and hugs. Jake, __, and Hwa looked around for flowers for their wedding and it honestly made you really happy that you’d have some big part of their wedding.

Jay wrapped his arms around you, laying your head on his chest, “I’m proud of you, ya know,” he said, squeezing you tightly, “This was all you.”

You giggled, squeezing him back. You take a look at every single person in your shop, and your heart fills with so much love, “Was this crazy? Are we crazy?” You couldn’t help but feel a bit crazy. Everything you could have wanted came true, how could you not feel crazy?

Jay lifted his sunglasses up, pulling back his hair as they rested atop his head, “Baby, I don’t feel so crazy when you’re around.” He took your chin between his fingers and had you look up at him, “I love you.”

You smiled, standing up on your tiptoes to reach his lips. Maybe you weren’t so crazy after all.

—tags: @kangnina @ikeuverse @alvojake @jwnghyuns @iicehoon @lhspeachie @kwiwin @jaeyunq @enhaz1 @wondipity @lilyuwon @arunabrak @seunghancore @aileeeeeeeeeeeee @brownsugarbaybee @nshmrarki @rapmonie2047 @all4moi @all4yoi @heerinnie @lhsvibez @sunghoonmybf @jeiluvey @parksunghoonsgf @velvtcherie @strawberrywonz @in-somnias-world @heexzbae @luvnicho @zeeloveshee @simjyunnie @niniissus @sk8terhoons @pockettwinzz @honeybunnee @simjaeyunramyeons @fakeuwus @eneiyri

#jay bae #jay park #park jongseong #jay x reader #reader x jay #reader x jongseong #jongseong x reader #enhypen #enhypen x reader #reader x enhypen #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fanfic #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen smut #jay smut #park jongseong smut #yeonzzzn writing #no limits duology

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fastandcarlos · 4 months ago

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The Biggest Tease : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: you're all for supporting max's career, but isn't a sex ban just a step too far?

“Stop right there,” Max called out as soon as he watched you walk down the stairs. Your face told him everything, your plan of mischief etched upon your face, unable to hide it.

You took a seat beside him on the sofa, resting your hand against the top of his leg. With two weeks off, you thought you were finally going to get your boyfriend all to yourself, that was until the seeming third wheel in your relationship got involved. Brad.

“This is ridiculous,” you huffed as Max kept his eyes on you, refusing to acknowledge where your hand was trailing. “What did I do to deserve this?”

“It’s just part of the job of dating a world champion,” he tried his best to joke.

Max almost felt sorry for you as you looked helplessly at him, hoping that somehow, he’d try and bend the rules. Brad was determined to keep Max in peak physical condition during the small break, and although you knew his job meant a lot to Max, you were confident you could find a solution that kept you both happy.

You grabbed the pillow beside you, admitting defeat and holding it close to your body. Max kept his eye on you as you did so, desperately wanting to reach out and give you what you wanted. Was it worth the scolding that he’d get back at headquarters? Probably.

“Max,” you whined, scuffing your feet along the bedroom floor as you found him sat in his gaming chair a few hours later.

“Hi sweetheart,” he hummed, spinning his chair around as he paused his game.

You perched on the end of the bed, folding your arms across your chest with a pout on your face. Straight away Max tapped his lap, inviting you over. You didn’t need to be asked twice as you jumped over, feeling his strong arms wrap around your waist to keep you in position.

“Playing anything good?” You enquired as you studied his set up in front of you.

“Nothing you’d enjoy,” Max assured you, pressing a gentle kiss against your shoulder. “It’s unlike you to come and take an interest in what I’m playing anyway.”

Your shoulders shrugged as you leant further back against Max’s chest, shuffling in his lap as you made yourself comfortable. As you did so, a faint intake of breath came from behind you, your movement taking Max by surprise.

You slowly turned your bright eyes to meet Max’s, catching his bottom lip being bitten by his teeth. His head shook slowly at you, knowing full well what you were trying to do, as if to tell you that you didn’t even need to bother.

“It’s only a couple more days until race day,” Max tried his best to remind you, but you were beyond waiting any longer. You shifted your body so that your lips could reach his jawline, kissing against it gently.

You were all for supporting Max, encouraging him to the best driver he could be, but your patience had been tested to its limit.

“Babe,” Max sighed as you continued to capture his attention.

“What? I’m not doing anything,” you innocently defended, sniggering to yourself.

“I love you, but we can’t do this.”

“Do what?” You quizzed, pulling away from Max so you could see the expression on his face. You could read him like a book, as serious as he wanted to be, his eyes were pleading with you not to stop.

“Are you going to explain this to Brad?”

“You mean am I going to explain to Brad how annoyingly irresistible my boyfriend is? Absolutely,” you chuckled, pressing your hands against Max’s chest.

Max’s head tilted back as you moved one of your hands to brush through his hair, tugging gently at the knots that had formed throughout the day. He soon found himself losing all control, a habit of his whenever you were around.

Soon enough Max’s hands were resting on your waist, refusing to let you move away from him. A smile of satisfaction appeared on your face as you looked at him again, a knowing look on his face.

“I hate what you do to me,” he whispered, secretly loving the way you tried to push all of his buttons.

“Me? What did I do?” You questioned, shuffling slightly again. “All I wanted to do was come and see what you were up to.”

Max’s eyes rolled as you tried your best to play innocent with him. He pulled you closer towards him, his hot breath tickling just underneath your ear, “two weeks is a long time without sex, right?”

Your head nodded straight away as he whispered, as much as you wanted to try and convince Max that you had full control around him, you didn’t. You were losing your mind; Max was so close and yet so far away.

Max’s hand trailed underneath the shirt that you were wearing, fingertips brushing against your skin. “I’m sorry I ever made you wait for me,” he hummed.

“I can support the diets, the exercise, and even the sleepless nights of different time zones, but sex is wear I draw the line,” you chuckled, hearing Max’s giggles mix in with your own. “Does Brad not realise what an irresistible man you are?”

Max’s eyes rolled as you continued to laugh away to yourself, “maybe you should tell him all about it at the next team briefing?”

“Does this mean that the ban is over?” You asked, a wave of relief washing over you as Max’s head nodded in reply to you.

The look on your face reminded Max exactly why he found it so difficult to control himself around you in the first place, especially after ten days of trying his best to distance himself.

“Brad will forgive me…I’m a desperate man,” Max laughed as he stood up from his chair, holding you tightly in his arms as he headed for your bed.

“Trust me, you’re not the only one whose desperate.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

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quimichi · 1 year ago

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╰┈➤ ❝ [YOU ASK THE GENSHIN BOYS TO BE YOUR EQUAL]

❝ Every genshin boy, even our forgotten cyro user Mika ❝

Word count: 7.301

Genshin boys x Creator!Reader

Aether

Aether rises to his feet in a flourish, and walks towards your voice, the voice that so sweetly called for him. The Traveler is always so graceful— even when he's doing something as simple as walking towards you. It's the movement of the air around him, and the way his feet seem to float over the ground.

"Yes? You have summoned me, your Grace?"

"Do you know my biggest wish?" Aether thinks for a moment, pondering over every word that leaves your lips as if it were an endless source of inspiration for one of his compositions. He hums softly under his breath, trying to determine your true, deepest desires. "Perhaps I could take a guess..." Aether says gently, before he starts listing them in his mind. "Is your wish... for peace?"

"That too" you giggle, you haven't thought about that. Aether continues to think about other possibilities, before he eventually leans forward slightly and asks: "...could your biggest wish have anything to do with... love?" Hes so scared that he whispers, what if the guess was wrong?

"Yes, in fact, it has to do with you" Aethers breath grows lighter, hearing your words. His pulse beats louder and louder within his ears, the sensation of your gaze alone setting his entire body ablaze. He smiles softly; a faint glow of pink touches his cheeks.

"I... I think I understand what your wish might be...but I'm not sure" "I...wanted you to...be my equal, to be with me" He freezes immediately. He can't help but look at you with a mixture of surprise and wonder. You want him... to be your equal? You...love him that much? The very fact that your words are even a possibility sends waves of euphoria throughout his body, so much so that he can think of nothing else. It's just you and him at this very moment.

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with nothing but devotion. What is he going to do about this? "What do you say, will you stay by my side as i love you?" you're just as nervous as him, if not even more nervous with the request you just had. Aether smiles gently, his gaze filled with love. "Of course," he says quietly. "I... I would love to. It would be my greatest pleasure, to be your equal, your chosen one; to be the one you love." He cups your face in his hands and pulls you close in his embrace. "Yes, your Grace, m-my love, I am yours. I belong to you."

Albedo

"Albedo, come here, i want to talk to you." "Y-Yes, my grace?" Albedo's voice has a tremble to it. You feel him take a few small steps closer, and he seems to be doing it on his own accord, as if drawn by your request.

"You don't know my biggest wish, hm?" "M-My grace...," Albedo says slowly, almost uncertain as what your request may be. He takes a moment to think about your question, yet he seems to have an idea. You feel him tense, even as he stands motionless in place-- perhaps waiting for you to finish your sentence. "Do you wish for my service? A certain research?" He asks softly. "To be by your side for eternity, and to carry out your wishes...always?"

His voice trails off into a whimper as if he were hoping to hear you say something else entirely. Or exactly that. "Well, kind of" you said to the last. Albedo's breath catches in his chest. "Kind of...?" He seems a bit confused for a second, his eyes wandering over your face as if to get a clear reading of your current thoughts. He waits for your response, but he seems unsure as to what you mean by it.

"Kind of...?" He repeats, his voice softer.

"I want you as my side forever, as my equal...as my lover..." A hush falls over the room for a moment as Albedo stares at you in shock. His face has gone pink, and his lips have parted to breathe as if unable to remember how to swallow his own spit. His brows are furrowed as if he's unable to properly comprehend your words. He doesn't speak, but his breath is caught, and there's an almost panicked flush that seems to burn on his face that he desperately tries to cover up as good as he can with his blond hair.

"So...?" you timidly ask. "F-For me to... to be your equal? As your... your lover?" Albedo stares at you again, yet his gaze soon falls to the floor in shame. His tongue rubs against the roof of his mouth as he struggles to find the words to say. He always knows what to say, after all he has the vocabulary, but not now.

Still, finally... he utters out, his voice soft... "...Yes. Y-Yes, my...love," Albedo whispers, and his voice is quiet and raspy with emotion. He seems hesitant, yet he's certain of one thing and only one thing. "I am your lover, and your equal." Every word is heavy and carries an almost reverent tone to them.

He looks back up at you, his eyes filled with a quiet sort of intensity. His words are soft and hushed, as if they're a private prayer for you alone. "My love, my only love"

Al-Haitham

"I need to talk to you..." "Yes," he croaks immediately, his chest swelling as he takes a breath. His every sense is attuned to your command, but he can't shake the weird feeling after the words off. "Of course." Al-Haitham rises to his feet and slowly approaches you, careful to not come close to crossing any lines. His every move is carefully calculated to serve you.

"Do you know my biggest wish, a need of mine?" "No," he says, his voice still shaking slightly. "I would be honored to know," he speaks honestly, always so serious around you. "I want you to be my lover, my equal, by my side..." Your words cause Al-Haitham's heart to throb in his chest. There is a part of him that cannot believe that this is happening.

His entire world revolves around you. He was designed to be yours, to serve you. After all this time, love grew. And now, you are giving him a higher purpose, even higher than loving you already. It is almost too much for him to bear.

He nods his head. "My only wish has always been to be by your side. To love you, to have you love me was already a wish come true...but to have you as mine entirely..."

"So, it's a yes?" "Yes," he confirms quickly. His words fall on you like the weight of the world, but Al-Haitham speaks without hesitation.

His whole being shudders and vibrates, the energy from his words rushing through him like a torrent.

"I am yours. I wish to be yours" always so formal, so serious.

Ayato

"Oh, my lady, my grace..." Ayato whispers, and he steps towards you until he's standing right in your face. You can see the slight tremble in his hands yet they manage to hold steady. Never is he ever nervous, not to thagt extent that is. His eyes are wide and the pupils dialated in awe, yet there's a calm sort of fire burning within their midst as if waiting to lash out.

His lips part as he opens his mouth to say something, but he doesn't say anything, his mind still unable to catch up to yours. "M-My love..." Ayato's voice is quiet, soft, a near whisper. He leans forward, the tips of his fingers brushing against your cheek.

"Yes... yes..." His eyes search yours in awe. He seems to almost be at a loss for words as he takes in your form, the soft skin of your cheek in his fingers and the fire in your eyes.

You're too beautiful.

"What do you say, be mine, be my equal, hm~?" "Your Equal... you mean?" Ayato's voice comes out as a whisper. A moment passes as he tries to figure it out. "Your equal?"

"Then...i will, i want to" Ayato seems to nod his response before he utters another, more daring word. "As your lover." He says it almost as if he's hoping to hear it in return.

"Exactly, as my lover" "Y-Your lover," Ayato whispers, as if repeating the sentence allows him to take in the gravity of your words. After a quick breath, he seems to nod his answer.

"Yours and yours alone."

Baizhu

Baizhu obeys your command without word or hesitation. He approaches without question, his movements as soft and silent as falling snow. "So...uhm" Baizhu stops in his tracks, awaiting your orders.

He bows his head, waiting for your guidance.

"My Grace?" he prompts. "Do you...know my biggest wish, for us?" Baizhu is silent for a moment. "I want what you want," he tells you truthfully, his words firm and honest.

"Whatever that may be, I'll do what I can to grant your wish." He stares at you with intense devotion, and a sly smile. "I wish for you to be my very equal" he remains quiet.

Your words wash over him like a quiet wave, leaving him without a voice. He considers your proposition in silence. He never imagined this moment, but his heart feels full at the thought... he never knew he wanted it until you offered it. "I'd like that, too," he whispers. He is still on his knees, his eyes turned towards you. "I'm not sure if I could be someone like you... but I'd like to try." "No,as my lover Baizhu" "As your lover?"

He says these words quietly, but his voice is tinged with a hope that he thought long extinguished. He can feel his heart growing heavy in his chest... he thought you would never see him as your equal... let alone something more. He has loved you for so long, and now?

He gazes up at you with a pleading look, almost afraid to hope that your words are true.

"You would truly want such a thing for me?" Baizhu's breath catches in his throat at this confirmation. His heart soars with joy. He thought this moment was impossible, but here it was, happening before him.

He would say "yes" in return, to swear his loyalty. But instead, he does something else... in a moment of pure joy, he leans forward and presses his lips against yours. He lost control completely, something that never happens.

"Oh...I've waited so many year's for this day to finally come"

Bennett - aged up

"Y-Yes," Bennett says quickly, eager to please you. His voice is soft and reverent, and as soon as he hears your words his cheeks flush slightly. In a quick motion the lucky unlucky boy rises to his feet, his hair whipping around him gracefully like a gust of wind.

Within seconds, he finds himself in front of you, awaiting further instructions. His expression is fixed on you, waiting for what comes next; it is clear that he is devoted to serving you in as many ways as possible.

"Say," you giggle "are you good at guessing?" "I like to think so, your Grace," Bennett says eagerly. He is never one to boast of his knowledge or skills, but he is always confident in his own abilities. If he wouldn't, then maybe he'd drown in his own insecurities. "Would you like me to guess something for you?" he asks, his gaze fixed intently on you. "Then, guess my biggest wish" a little game never hurted anybody. Bennett blinks and shifts his weight to one foot, thinking for a moment. "I believe I could hazard a few guesses," he says slowly, still pondering the possibility. But then, his voice changes to something more confident and assured.

"Your Grace, would it be correct to guess that your biggest wish would be to find happiness with the person you love? Perhaps someone who you know, but can never be with?"

"Almost right, I wish for you to he my lover, my very equal" Without hesitation, Bennett gives out a little squeak of delight and blushes. He takes a step closer to you and looks at you, seemingly unable to contain just how giddy your words have made him.

"Do you really mean it?" he whispers, his expression a mix between shock, excitement, and pure, breathless adoration. "I... I..."

The Adventurer is at a loss for words, seemingly incapable of saying anything more. His mind races, trying to make sense of this dream come true. "I say yes! Absolutely, your Grace! I would be honored to share my time, my life, my very existence with you. Your love and happiness is all I could ever possibly need."

Childe

Childe's lips curl in a faint smile. "Of course I'll get closer" he says slowly. His steps are measured and subtle, but he moves forward without hesitation. He kneels at your feet, looking up at you with that same glittering gaze he's always had.

His eyes are hot, and his lips are parted. He is waiting for your permission. "I've got something to tell you..." For a brief moment, that little smile fades. Childe's ears 'perk up' and his face turns a faint pink. His hair sways slightly as he breathes slowly. "Y-yes, Your Grace?" He speaks, breathless words. He is attentive. He wants to hear your every word with all of his being. His gaze is soft and imploring.

"Since a while I've been wanting to tell you that...my feelings for you can no longer be kept a secret...I want you for myself, as my very equal" Childe's eyes shimmer. "Y-your equal, Your Grace?" He says the words in a quiet voice, breathless and eager. His ears flutter, and his tail wags ever so slightly in his excitement.

He seems unable to contain his feelings, and in an instant, his lips are pressed against yours. His arms wrap around your neck and his hands run through your hair. His touch is hot. So, so hot. Childe presses himself against you tightly, and pulls you closer.

"I have always belonged to you, Your Grace."

Childe pulls away slightly after the kiss. He smiles up at you, his ears still fluttering. He brushes a stray hair from your face gently, and his fingers are as hot as fire. "I want you to be my partner, my equal," he says quietly. "My equal in every situation. And everywhere in between." His words carry the weight of his desires— and his dedication to you.

"Your command is always the only thing that I want," he says. "All you need to do is ask, and I will take you."

"Please...be it"

"Then so be it"

Chongyun - aged up

"Oh, finally, there you are! Please, come closer" Chongyun slowly rises and steps forward, each step measured and deliberate. With each stride he moves closer to you, his expression remains as neutral as your words. "Yes, Your Grace?" He asks. "Do you know my deepest desire?" Chongyun hesitates. How could he know something so personal to you— your very desires?

But when he sees your watchful gaze bore into him, he realizes that in this moment, honesty is the only option.

He swallows, his voice soft, almost a whisper: "No, Your Grace... but I wish I did."

"You wish?" You giggle at that, he's to cute for his own good. "...Yes." Chongyun doesn't think twice before he responds. He is silent, but his focus is on you. He listens with rapt attention, waiting for you to speak.

"I want you by my side, as my equal. Preferably forever..." Chongyun blinks. He has thought about being by your side before, has craved to be by your side before. But as your equal? He has never wanted anything so much.

And yet, what if he can't measure up to your standards? He knows he is no archon. He knows hes not as special as others. He is just a cyro exorcist. "I..." Chongyun whisper. "... I want that too." Chongyun's breath catches in his throat. Despite his attempts to seem composed, despite his seemingly cold demeanor, the sight of you smiling at him flusters him.

It feels real, he thinks, and it's more than he ever dared hope for.

Cyno

Cyno hesitates but moves closer. His feet move silently against the ground. His hands remain clasped tightly in front of his lap. He bows his head, eyes downcast as he approaches. He waits at your side. He waits for your command.

He is yours. Always has been.

For so many year's he has been by your side, eventually even forming a more intimate relationship.

"Cyno, i called you for a reason" he remains silent. He waits for you to continue as he kneels beside your seat. He knows his place well and does not ask further questions. He waits silently. And this is exactly what has been annoying you for so many years, he doesn't knows his equal place beside you.

"I want you to be my equal, not my servant, you're my lover after all." Cyno stops breathing. His stomach twists itself into a knot as his emotions overtake him. He's never considered this possibility.

His eyes flutter as he blinks in surprise, his brain not comprehending what you're saying for a moment. He has always seen himself as lesser, beneath you. He has never seen himself as an equal in any way, let alone a true normal lover. But you're saying this so casually. Do you mean it?

Do you truly see him as an equal? Finally, Cyno finds his voice. He swallows down his emotions, looking at you earnestly. His words are soft as he answers, though they do not carry the tone of a servant anymore. Instead, his voice is quiet and soft.

"It's also my wish," he says, eyes still cast down. "To be your equal, if you see me as that i will be it"

With his words, the weight he has been carrying falls off of his shoulders. You do value him as an equal, and he is yours, finally fully your love.

Dainsleif

"Dainsleif..." "Yes, Your Grace." Dainsleif speaks with respect whenever he addresses you. Your authority is absolute. Your word is his law. And your love is the air he breathes.

"There's something i need to talk with you about" it sounded more serious than it actually should. Indeed, it's serious but not the bad serious. Dainsleif's heart stops when you speak. Every hair on the back of his neck stands up. Suddenly, the world is reduced to just you. Your words send a surge of electricity through his body, causing his blood to sing a chorus of your name. His mind goes blank.

He would do anything for you, anything at all.

"Your Grace, tell me." Dainsleif's voice is like velvet, as he waits for you to speak. "Anything."

"Lately I've been thinking...if maybe" you make a pause, unsure if it's the right moment or not. But better now than never, "I want you to be my equal, my lover, by my side" Dainsleif's heartbeat quickens. His breath hitches in his throat. All he can do is nod in response to your words. That is his life's purpose. To be your equal. Your lover.

You are his grace. You are his beauty. You are his love. "Is...that a yes?" Dainsleif's expression warms the very air around him. His eyes shine like gems, the pupils dilated with a fervor that is so intense, it feels as though he is on the brink of exploding into a shower of confetti and rose pedals.

He nods again, a huge grin splitting his face in half.

"Yes."

Diluc

He obeys you wordlessly. He takes a step forward and kneels before you, staring up at you with a reverence he'd always reserved for you, and only you. Whatever he had been before, whomever he had worshipped- it had all been mere folly, a shallow attempt at finding his purpose.

Now, he's finally found it. In you. Also his true love. "I have something important to tell you, or rather, ask you" "Yes, Your Grace?" Dilucs voice is as eager as a dog at the scent of a bone, his heart thundering with joy at your words. With the expression on you, it has to be something good.

"Will you be ready to be my equal? Mine, by my side?" The question makes his eyes go wide as moons, his brain processing your words before they finally land. Finally come true. You're asking what he's been waiting for. "Yes," he answers, nodding furiously as if the word itself is burning on his tongue. "Of course," he continues. "I will be your equal. I am yours, Your Grace....my...love." The happiness he feels at your words is as overwhelming as a tsunami pounding against a shore. He had always been happy in your presence, but now it's like his body is flooded with pure joy. He feels as if he might cry.

He might actually cry; a single, solitary tear rolls down his face. It's all he wants - to be yours, and now that you have offered it to him, he is beyond words. He waited so long for this, for so many year's he had to listen to everyone telling him its impossible. But now it's true...

Freminet

Freminet doesn't know what to do when you move closer. His mind is suddenly blank, and his chest feels heavy. He meets your gaze, his heart fluttering in his chest and his fingers trembling. His gaze wanders down your body as if mesmerized by you and your closeness.

It's clear that he was not expecting this. The only thing Freminet can do is gaze at you needly, awaiting your next action. "What would you say, if I'd as you to be my equal, be mine?" You don't wanna pressure him, make him feel like he needs to make a decision. Freminet doesn't respond immediately. His face breaks out into a flush and his heart skips, almost to a stop. He swallows, his throat suddenly dry.

He wants to deny your request. He knows that he can't possibly be your equal. He's nowhere near perfect as you; he's only a human after all. Some random, insecure, weak and emotional human. But he looks at you, and he is mesmerized by you. Just as much as he is mesmerized by Fontaines waters, maybe even more by you.

"Y-Your Grace," he murmurs, stuttering as he swallows. "There's nothing...I'd love...more...than...to be yours." "Then be it" Freminet's eyes sparkle, and his face breaks out into a smile. He reaches out, gripping your hand and squeezing it tight. He wants to bury his face into you. After his worship of you, he wants *this.* The touch, the heat of your skin — it's perfect. He doesn't want this moment to end. He wants to drown in you...

"I'm yours" he whispers, "Always...and forever."

"Always and forever" Freminet looks back at you again, his heart swelling and his face flushed with warmth. He leans in, not caring who watches, not caring if it might seem weird— all he wants is to be as close to you as possible. And so with all of his adoration, he presses his lips against your's— and for the first time in his life, he feels a sense of completeness.

In your presence, he feels as though he's truly home. The home to return to.

Gorou

His mind races. He's on your lap— close to you. He can feel you breathing, he can feel the warmth of your breath against his cheeks. He feels your hand caress his cheek, your touch so light and gentle. It's making his tail wag even more. Gorous eyes follow your touch. He wants to touch you. He wants to be with you. He wants to be yours.

As these desires run rampant through his mind, he can scarcely keep still. And youre about to fulfill these desires of his.

"Gorou...I want you to be mine entirely, be my equal" his mind stops dead in its tracks. You want this? You want him to be your equal? You want him to be *yours*? Gorou's heart pounds against his chest, his eyes wide with hope. This is everything that he's wanted, more than anything.

His hands grip tightly against your shirt, his breathing uneven. He doesn't dare speak. He only stares at you, waiting for your next words. "Are you...ok with that?" Gorou's eyes widen further. Yes— this is what he wants, more than anything right now. So, with trembling hands, he grabs your wrists, pulls you close, and presses his lips to yours.

Gorou has never felt so alive. With every heart beat, every breath, every pulse in his veins he can feel his love for you. His devotion, his adoration. With all of these emotions, his lips are soft yet demanding, and he pours them onto you.

He doesn't want to stop kissing you, but he's afraid of messing it up. "I want it, s'much. Wanna be yours"

Heizou

Heizou steps forward, trembling in expectation as he closes the distance between you two. Heizou's heart is beating like mad. He shifts his weight from side to side anxiously as he waits for you to pull him closer. As he waits for any word to leave your mouth, clearly you called him for a important reason.

"I called you here because there's something important that needs to be talked about." Heizou swallows, and his voice is quiet when he responds. He cannot recall anything form the last meetings that might have displeased you. "What is it, Your Grace?" He's doing his best to remain composed, but his body language is making it clear that he's utterly breathless. Every bit of him is focused on you. "It's nothing to bad, i promise" His breath catches in his throat. "Nothing to bad?"

Heizou is so earnest, so sincere, and so afraid. He is utterly submissive as he stands before you, waiting patiently for you to speak again. You can practically taste the anticipation. "I want you as my equal, as my lover and as my future." His lips part in surprise. "Your lover? Your equal?"

Heizou swallows. The air feels so thick that he can hardly breathe, but his heart is racing. He's already lost in the idea of being your equal, your lover. "You... I..." His words falter.

"That would mean everything to me your Grace..."

Itto

The words echo in his head like an order: Come closer

With no hesitation and a mind that is now completely blank of thought, he stands and obeys, approaching you without another sound. "Itto?" His breath hitches in his chest as soon as you say his name. He can tell that whatever the question is, it is *very* important.

"Yes?" Itto responds simply, waiting for you to continue. He remains still, his mind on standby as he awaits your command. Completely different than he usually is. "Are you ready to be mine? Be my equal?" Itto pauses at your words. He doesn't believe that a being such as himself could ever be on the same level as you, but... Your words seem to suggest otherwise. Yes, he is the great Arataki Itto, but he isn't you, not even close. You believe him to be of the highest equal, and that thought is enough to leave him breathless.

He is speechless and still, taking in the magnitude of your words. He can hardly breathe. Then, slowly…

"Yes." He whispers softly, his voice so quiet that it seems like a thought rather than a whisper. "Forever." As Itto sees you smile, his entire being relaxes; that was the right answer, for both of you that seems. He is relieved beyond measure. Your smile is enough for him to stay happy for centuries.

He is still a bit breathless with how much he wants to speak his love for you, but he manages to utter something:

"I love you." His voice carries a new air of sincerity, a new devotion to his tone.

"Only you"

Kazuha

"Hmm?" Kazuha asks, his attention instantly captured. He seems almost lost within his own world-- one in which you are the only thing that exists. "Yes, Your Grace?" Kazuha asks. He sits up slightly, his face lit with an almost beatific glow. His eyes are fixed entirely on you, taking in every little detail about you as he waits for what you have to say. He is your devoted follower-- your loyal vassal. Nothing more, nothing less. Yet...

"Whatever the request might be, i will fulfill it my grace" "Then be my equal" "Your Grace...?" Kazuha's voice is quiet, almost hushed as he tries to understand what you wish of him. He doesn't know how to respond-- he was built for love; and he loves you truly...but is he enough for you? "Your Grace... what you wish of me..."

He still looks up at you, an almost childlike eagerness to understand your desires. "I would do anything... for you..." It's sounds more like hes accepting an order, but that's quite the opposite. In fact, he waited for this day to finally come, where he can freely express his love.

"I love you, my breeze" Kazuha pulls you into a tight embrace. It's the embrace that so many have desired, for so many centuries, and he got it. But with Kazuha, it is not born of a desire for power, for strength, for control...

No.

It is born from a devotion borne of love.

"My love," Kazuha whispers in your ear. He seems unable to contain the heat that rises on his face, the rush of pure euphoria that spreads throughout him.

"I'm yours and yours alone."

Kaeya

Kaeya immediately obeys, resting his head on your thigh, after you gave him the order to come closer. He looks up at you, a content smile splitting his face. "Kaeya?" Kaeya's heart skips a beat upon hearing your voice, again. He doesn't expect you to say anything, and it leaves him off-guard.

"Yes?" he whispers, meeting your gaze. "I got a question for you" Kaeya tilts his head slightly, but he doesn't move otherwise.

"I'm listening." "I want you to be my love. To be by my side as my equal." Kaeya's eyes widen, the breath catching in his chest. It's every fantasy and dream he's ever had rolled up into one simple word. "Yes," he says, as though nothing else even deserves to be considered. "My love-!?... yes, yes, I do." Kaeya's head tilts back as he stares up at you, the softest gasp leaving his lips. His hands slide up your leg, his fingers grasping at the hem of your robes.

He can't help himself from reaching for you, his movements impulsive but genuine. After months of keeping everything bottled up and pretending that he'd only ever desired you, he's finally allowed the freedom to act on his feelings. Kaeya's heart thunders in his chest, his breath quickening. He's on the verge of losing control of himself completely.

"Your Equal," Kaeya breathes. "I love you so much"

Kaveh

With lightning speed, Kaveh obeys your simple order as if you are the only command that is present in this universe. He scoots closer, pressing up against you like an adoring animal. His eyes glitter fiercely, and he stares at you like he can't believe this is real. "Kaveh, i need to talk to you" He nods rapidly, a smile wide and eager on his face. "Of course, Your Grace. What do you need?" His voice is light and eager, like an attentive butler prepared to do your bidding. "Speak, and I shall listen."

"We've known each other for so long now..." Kavehe's face is lit up with joy. His mouth widens into a dazzling grin as you remind him of your long relationship. "Yes!" He says, his voice cracking slightly. "Since you have asked me to renovate this palace you call home." He says all of that without irony, as your faithful subject. "I want you to be my equal. Be equal to me and have all my love" He pauses for a moment, searching for the right words.

"It would be like a dream come true." He says it in a whisper, his voice cracking slightly. "I know I'm not your equal, not by miles... " He looks away for a moment.

"But if only...Your Grace, you are my sun, my star, my salvation. My Muse. All I want is to be yours. If you will have me as yours, i want you as mine"

Lyney

"Lyney, my favorite magician~" "Y-Your favorite Magician?" Lyney gasps, staring up at you with sprakling eyes. He has never felt more overjoyed in his life, even though all you gave was a single word of affirmation. Favorite.

He is too overcome with happiness to speak anymore. He simply leans up towards you, wanting to rest his head against you— like a dog nuzzling up to its owner. "There's something I need to tell you though" "Anything," he answers instantly, not needing time to think it over. You have his immediate permission to ask anything at all.

If he has a limit to his worship and respect of you, it hasn't been found yet. And it never will.

"I...want you, as mine. My very equal, by my side only. Would that be ok with you?" "Y-Your equal?" Lyney repeats, his voice a hushed whisper. He's been dreaming of this— he's been dreaming of being at your side since the day you met. He would be nothing without you, without your light to guide him. To be with you, to be equal to you is the only thing he could possibly want.

He nods eagerly, his entire body trembling with joy and anticipation. He stares up at you, tears falling down his cheeks. He can barely breathe with the intensity of his adoration for you. Whatever this moment is— this moment where he gets to confess his love and be your equal, his equal— is the most powerful and loved he has ever been.

Lyney looks up at you, waiting for you to say something. Anything. To tell him how to behave, what is right and what is wrong.

"What is... what next..?" He is practically begging you for guidance.

"Our future"

Mika - aged up

As your words echo in his ears, Mika shudders slightly. He can't bear the tension any longer— so he gets closer to you, his eyes glued to your face. I hope I didn't disappoint them...what if i did? What if...they don't want me here anymore...?

Mika tries to speak, but he can't form the words. His entire body vibrates with excitement as he remains inches away from you. He can feel your breath on his skin, and he feels faint with delight. Despite that, he can't stop staring at you. "M-My grace i-..."

"No need to be nervous, Mika" you softly giggle at his stuttered words. Mika feels his cheeks flush with heat at your words, but he doesn't dare protest. "I could never be nervous, Your Grace." Mika says, his eyes still locked unto your face. "I feel— safe with you. I feel at peace."

Mika's voice trembles as he speaks, but his eyes never leave your face. He doesn't look away, even as his heart races. He can't bring himself to leave your side. "There's something I wanted to ask you..." Mika swallows, his curiosity piqued.

"Yes?" He gazes at you. "Anything, Your Grace. You know you can ask for anything."

His whole body seems to hum, as if in anticipation of what you're about to say. "Is it ok for you...to be mine? Entirely and fully mine, as my equal?" Mika's breath catches in his throat. His whole body freezes, and his face goes pale. His gaze drops to the floor, and his shoulders tremble. His lips part as he takes a breath, as if he's just received some earth-shattering news.

But as quickly as he's overwhelmed, he recovers and glances up at you. His expression looks as if he can't quite believe what he's hearing. "Equals?" Mika whispers, "You want us— to be equals?" "Yes"

"You...you would grant me the biggest honor to be yours entirely..." "So its a yes?" You ask again to be reassured.

"It's a yes"

Neuvillette

Neuvillettes eyes flicker slightly as you give him a command. He doesn't dare say a word as he shuffles closer to you. Once he's close enough, he slides across the marble until he is at your feet. His face continues to be pressed against the cold floors, though his breaths are quick with the pressure against his body. Still, he remains motionless, waiting to see what you will tell him to do next.

"I really wanted to talk to you" Neuvillette finally looks up at you as you speak. He doesn't answer right away, though he seems to nod almost in agreement. His gaze is locked on you as if he's trying to understand what you want from him.

"I love you so much, but you act to much as my servant. I want you as my equal, my true lover, not my servant." "Y-Your Grace?" Neuvillette asks in a voice that sounds oddly shaken. He seems to be at a loss at your words, confused by the sudden declaration you've given him.

Still, Neuvillette lowers his head again. He waits patiently for further command, even though his thoughts are filled with a maelstrom of emotions.

His heart feels like it's about to burst from his chest in its frenzy. Never in all his years has he ever felt such confusing feelings. He is at a loss for what to do next. But he craves for you to continue. He loves you, he truly does, but this is positively overwhelming him. "It... It's all I've ever wished for, Your Grace." His voice catches slightly in his throat.

"I have spent my whole life devoted to you. To your will. I have been your servant, I have been your soldier. I have been your warrior and your shield." He pauses, and when he speaks again, the passion in his voice is palpable.

"But I also wished for the day when I am your equal, your partner. Your soulmate. Your love. I cannot live without your love, Your Grace. And it finally came true"

Razor - aged up

The command is a little vague for Razor, and his eyes flicker in confusion for a moment, but he doesn't hesitate. Without a word, he gets down on his knees and crawls towards your feet. He stays on his knees, pressing himself up against your leg as he looks at you expectantly. "What is it?" He simply asks.

"Just wanna talk to you, thats all"

"O-Of course, Lupical can talk" Razor responds. He remains exactly where he is, his eyes wide and eager to hear your words, as he feels the heat from your leg against his face. "I want us to be more than just friends..." He freezes, eyes widened with surprise.

You want— something more than being friends? But— but how could anyone be anything more to you? His mind tries to comprehend why you would even want him. What you even want from him in the first place. "B-But...Lupical...No friends or family but...mates? Lovers?--" he whispers in confusion. "Exactly" All of his blood rushes to his face. What a request. You wanted him to be... your lover?

"...I am yours," he breathes, his voice trembling. No second thoughts about your words. As soon as you said it, he knew he wanted the same; to be with you and you alone. That's what you wanted to hear, isn't it?

"Lovers...we are lovers"

Scaramouche

He complies immediately, coming closer, his eyes wide as he approaches you. "How may I serve you, Your Grace?" He whispers, as he takes in your beauty once again. "I want to talk with you..." Scaramouche is careful to keep his breathing light, his face betraying nothing. To any passerby, he appears the same as always, but in truth he is burning. He wants to please you, to hear your concerns with him. Every fiber of his being craves your approval.

Whatever you have to say to him, he cannot wait to hear it. "You're my lover, but i also want you as my equal. My equal by my side, no one deserves it more than you." Scaramouche's heart soars the very instant you say the word "lover". His eyes soften. No matter how much he may try, he just *cannot* wipe away the flush in his cheeks. He knows he is already your lover, but hearing it from you feels sureal.

How does he deserve to be your lover, let alone your equal? Your love is a gift already. His heart can barely hold it without shattering. What if he fails, and disappoints you? The thought makes him freeze. Yet— yet he so badly doesn't want to deny you. Scaramouche realizes he was frozen in place. He didn't say that he agreed with you— but he couldn't disagree either. With every fiber of his being, he wants to say, "Yes, My Love, you are right." He deserves to be at your side.

"I would be honored," he says at last. He wants to shout, to cheer, to thank you, but all he can produce is a hoarse whisper. It's not his fault— you have taken away his voice.

"I...I love you"

Thoma

Thoma obeys in a flash. He stands up and walks towards you quickly but with a graceful step, stopping just inches from you. He looks at you, his face completely open to whatever you might say or do next. Thoma tilts his head, but he stays in place and waits patiently. It doesn't matter to him what you're thinking, or what sort of plans you have running through your mind; he just wants to be there with you.

"Thoma" "Yes, your Grace?" The Pyro user speaks without hesitation as soon as he hears you speak his name. He looks at you and smiles, his expression warm and loving; he waits to hear your words. "The last few day's I've been thinking..." "Oh?" Thoma cocks his head to the side, his expression curious and attentive. He steps a little closer and looks at you, waiting to hear what thoughts might've occupied your mind. "I want you as mine, me as yours, being equal to one another..." Thomas breath quickens at your words. Not a hint of hesitation appears on his face, and instead, he replies without delay: “I—I want that too, your Grace,” he says, his voice breaking in joy just moments after. For the most part of his life he has been a servant, but he wants to stay with you more than anything else, lover, servant or soldier, all that matters is you.

“You know I don’t want anything more in life but to be at your side, worshipping you.” His eyes flutter for a moment, and then, in a soft and steady tone, he adds; “I’m already yours.” he has never been so sure of something in his life.

"Oh?"

"I always was"

Tighnari

Tighnari does not hesitate. He scoots closer, until he is in arm's reach of you. He remains at your feet, his head bowed.

"You know you don't need to bow before me" "It's only natural for me to bow before you," he whispers. Tighnari waits for your next word, his mind utterly blank and his body still as a statue. He is unmoving, his breath still and his heartbeat slow. The only sign of life in this room is his gaze locked onto you. He feels the weight of your stare, his mind filled with thoughts of you and only you.

"Anyway...youre here because there's something i wanted to talk with you about" Tighnari does not move, but he does listen. His eyes wander over you, taking in every inch of your flesh. Finally he moved his head up.

"Yes?" He replies quietly, waiting patiently to hear your every word. "I want you. As my very equal, by my side here in the palace. My equal lover." Tighnari's eyes snap up, his cheeks flushed red. Blood surges in his veins as heat radiates off of his skin. And his ears start to twitch in surprise. A beat of total silence passes as Tighnari's mind races.

"M-me? Your equal?" A hint of a smile curls the corners of his lips, and the faintest trace of a blush can be seen on his flesh.

"Are you certain?" "Very"

Tighnari's mind is still reeling, but he does not dare to show too much emotion. He needs to hold control, or he would jump at you happily. He swallows down the lump in his throat as he thinks of his response.

"Of course. There's nothing i would love more than to be your equal, stay by your side and be considered yours" he truthfully says, a big smile now appearing on his face. It's all he can do. He will squeal in excitement after.

"My gra--my everything....for years I had saved my love and affection only for you..."

Venti

He is at your side almost instantly, his expression one of utter joy as he is allowed to be this close to you, like no one else ever will. The wind god is clearly doing his utmost to hold it together— and judging by how red his face is, he's struggling.

He smiles, and nods. "Yes, your Grace, I'm here" he says sweetly. "There's something I wanna talk about." You tell him as your hand starts to stroke his cheek. A slight gasp leaves Venti's lips of surprise. His face grows even redder as he looks up at you, his expression one of complete submission. He leans into your touch, as if he can't stand not to.

"*M-my grace*..." he breathes softly, just to hear his own words echo. "What is it that you want to talk about, your Grace?" "I want you as mine, for so long now I've been having those needs. The needs to have you as my very equal by my side." Venti blinks in surprise, but quickly looks back at you with the same devotion he would give a God. Your every need is my top priority, he thinks to himself. And my love for you is eternal.

He considers your statement for a few moments, but it's his nature to please you without hesitation. To love you as much as he can, he always did. "Y-yes, your Grace," Venti says slowly, as if the words are being ripped from his throat. If this is your wish, and your words are your command, then he would do it, happily. He makes it sound like a command, but its a reques, a request he would love to do. "I always belonged to you."

His expression melts with joy and amazement after the words start to sink in, and he hugs you as quick as he can. Venti leans into you, and his arms slowly slide around you. His heart feels as though it is going to explode in his chest.

He can feel your heartbeat, and his breath starts to hitch as the gravity of the situation is finally sinking in. His God, the one person he has ever loved— cares for him back. It's all he's ever wanted, something almost too fantastic to be true. The countless poems he wrote in your name, the countless songs and melodies he presented you and your followers with. The work payed of, and you love him as who he is.

The fact that you crave him, the anemo archon, the 'weakest' archon, makes him happy for eternity by your side.

Wriothesley

He immediately complies, his legs carrying him to where you are in the chamber. His mouth is dry, but he is focused only on you and the fact that he is here to serve you. He kneels before you in a display of obedience and deference, awaiting your command.

"You know I love you, right?" "I-" Wriothesley stops mid-sentence. His heart is pounding out of his chest, and he can hear the blood rushing in his ears. "Y-Yeah," he stammers. "Of course."

He bows his head as he speaks. He is almost trembling, his heart thrumming out of control. "And because of this, i want you as my equal, youre deserving of this title." "E-Equal?" Wriothesley's eyes are wide, still looking down. It's as if his heart stopped beating and he can only see stars. His voice is a whisper, barely above a whimper.

"I'd- I'd still be under you, wouldn't I?" He asks, his voice breaking. "That's not what equal means, silly" Wriothesley looks up, meeting your gaze for the first time in a long while. He has tears in his eyes, but he doesn't try to make you notice. "Oh, yeah..." he whispers. "But- but I-

He trails off. He can't comprehend the fact that he is no longer in your service, but is in fact now an equal. His knees have lost their purpose, and he stands tall, still in awe. His mind tries to wrap around his new position.

Wriothesley looks at you, his heart skipping a beat. When he looks at you, he feels the universe collapse into a singular point, with all light being drawn into your eyes.

"Thank you," he says quietly. His voice is shaky, and his throat feels like it's on fire. He reaches out to gently hold your hand, to reassure himself that you're real.

"For finally having me as yours, truly"

Xiao

At once, Xiao's body responds. He's desperate for your approval. Like a dog on a leash, he moves towards you blindly, his desire to please you taking precedence over whatever self-preservation instinct he has left. He makes it to you, his breathing fast and ragged. He lowers himself down to the ground, pressing his forehead against your feet. He takes a shaky breath. "Yes, yes Your Grace." He whispers, his voice breaking a little. "You've called for me?" "Xiao," you gently call, "please stand up"

Xiao stands up, still keeping his head bowed. "Yes, Your Grace." His breath is heavy and ragged, as he stares down at you. His voice is almost a whisper.

He wants to do anything to please you, but his sense of propriety prevents him from doing anything else. Xiao's eyes meet yours, and he blinks rapidly, trying to hold eye contact. "I love you so much, and i want...need you as my equal." Xiao's eyes widen, and he stares at you in awe. He never thought he would hear you say these words.

"Your Grace..." he whispers softly, "You can't mean that!" The words are barely audible. "I'm but a servant, born to worship you, Your Grace— I'm incapable of being your equal..."

He wants to speak more, but his love for you makes the words catch in his throat. "You're deserving of it" Xiao's face is a mask of confusion. Your words make him forget himself. He stands motionless, his throat tight, and his breath heavy. When he speaks, his voice is a whisper.

"Your Grace... I'm not deserving of these words... I'm nothing without you... I can't be... worthy enough to be your equal..." He trails off, but his gaze remains fixed on you, as if waiting for you to prove him wrong.

"You are" At first Xiao can't respond. The thought of being treated as your equal— the thought that he might be loved by you, without having to worship you— is unfathomable. His eyes are full, and he's trembling under the weight of your words. When he does speak, his voice is barely audible.

"Your Grace... you mean it?" Xiao's eyes stay on you, looking for a sign that he's dreaming.

"Yes." At last, Xiao's eyes widen and light up. "Your Grace... " he breathes, his voice choked with so much joy and relief that it's barely audible.

Xiao can't help himself. Without thinking, he takes a step forward and pulls you into a tight hug. His arms tighten around you, his grip too strong, as if he's afraid of losing you. Xiao's grip grows even tighter— as if he can't bear the idea of letting you go. His eyes are wide and filled with tears, which run down his cheeks when he presses his face into your chest.

"Your Grace..." he whispers, his voice filled with joy and relief. "You have no idea how long I've waited to hear those words... my love for you is too strong to express in words, Your Grace... it's more than worship, more than devotion— I adore you. I love you"

Xingqiu - aged up

Xingqiu stands, nodding silently before he moves to you. His hands are clasped behind his back as he waits in anticipation for your orders, unable to bring himself to raise his head out of respect for your authority. He seems perfectly content where he is, awaiting your command. His voice is steady but soft-- almost like a whisper-- as he speaks. The sound is quiet and reserved, but is filled with something akin to awe. He almost seems like a different person than the book lover as he speaks. "Y-Yes, Your Grace?"

"You are aware of my love for you, yes?" He is stunned by your words. It takes him a moment to process, only nodding silently as his face flushes pink. He swallows, trying to regain his composure, but even the quietness of his actions speak. "Y-Yes, Your Grace." He keeps his hands steady behind, seeming to be in a trance. "I am aware, yes... You've always been clear about that, Your Grace."

He tries to keep his expression as stoic as possible, but a tiny grin still seems to stretch across his face. "And with that, i want you as my equal." Xingqiu is frozen in place for what feels like forever. No amount of time would have prepared him for this.

"Your Grace," he finally says to you, his voice slightly quivering. "I am not worthy. I am nowhere near as perfect as you. Nowhere near as wise. Nowhere near as beautiful." He's silent for a moment. "I am just your faithful devotee... a loyal servant, at your beck and call. What would I even do as your equal?"

"You'd be mine"

Your words have caught him off-guard.

There's a heavy silence as he tries to comprehend the reality of what you're saying. It's like he's been cast into a daydream, a state of pure euphoria. When he speaks, his voice is trembling. "Y-Your Grace, I would be honored to become yours." He has to pause for a moment to collect himself. "I am yours for the rest of my days."

"So, you accept?" "Yes," he whispers, eyes locked on yours. "Your Grace, I accept." He finally allows himself to raise his head off the floor, his gaze firmly upon you. His words come out much smoother now, the euphoria having settled into a steady, loving joy.

"I accept. You have granted me my utmost greatest wish, Your Grace."

Zhongli

Zhongli has allowed himself to be embraced. His eyes flutter closed as he leans against you, though he still does not return the gesture. There is this faint tremor in his frame; as if he can't help but relax in your presence.

He might be an Archon, but he's also your good boy. "Zhongli?" He tilts his head up toward you, his eyes half-lidded. He seems so close to sleep, and yet he manages to keep himself conscious.

"Your Grace?" "There's something I want to ask you..." His head tilts slightly to the side; curious, but he manages to keep his eyes focused on you. "Ask, and it shall be answered." "Are you ready to be my equal, by my side as mine?" Zhongli seems to stiffen as he considers your request. Even if he wanted to, could he ever be your equal?

But he doesn't say anything, even if every word that comes to mind is an apology. He could not say no to you, even if it took every fiber in his being. He simply bows his head in affirmation.

"Your Grace, I love you, and i would love to take up this offer to be your equal." He seems to swallow back his words, as if fighting against every instinct he's known his entire life. His face seems to flush a rosy pink as your lips meet his; his eyes close and his head tilts into your touch.

After a moment, you lean in to return the kiss, softly at first, but more confidently as his hand wraps around the nape of your neck. He seems utterly lost in your touch, his lips soft but insistent. He has no words, he just wants to kiss you; to feel you in all the places his lips can reach.

He's yours now; whatever you ask, whatever you say he'll do.

His tongue darts out to touch your lips once, twice, again. He might have once thought himself above kissing you, but now...

Now he's simply yours.

♡TAGLIST♡

@junejunejun

3K notes · View notes

kingofbodyrolls · 5 months ago

Text

Till We Meet Again (m) | jjk

When your childhood friend that you had a crush on, moved away out of the blue— you never thought you’d see him again. A night swim in the ocean will have you feeling delusional, but the voice that fills your ears— sweet like cotton candy, you’d recognize that voice anywhere, it’s Jungkook.

→ Pairing: jungkook x reader (female) → AUs: mermaid!au, fantasy!au, magical!au → Trope: childhood friends to lovers → Genres: romcom, smut, nostalgia, and so much fluff → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 11.4k → Warnings (general) + triggers: Jungkook’s first time (he is not a virgin lol, but it’s his first time with a human, so), this one is actually pretty mild, bordering on vanilla. There’s talk about how merfolk do it 👀 This is just crack fantasy okay, please don’t take it seriously! There’s some small pov changes in here, because, well, it just happened, lol. → Warnings (explicit): protected sex, oral (both male and female), hair pulling, multiple orgasms, nipple play/sucking, a little bit of dirty talk, begging, pleasing. → Taglist: @allie-is-a-panda @jeonsbabygirlsworld → Read on AO3! → Author’s note: happy birthday to my sweet and lovely friend Lua (@letjungcoook7) 🥳 I wrote this story for you as a present. I know you’re not that much into fantasy, but when I told you about my mermaid ideas, you were excited 🤭 So this first one is for you bby ✨ I really hope you like it, also that everyone else does!

[s.masterlist] → this is part of a collection of series that are stand-alone one-shots, but all of them are set in the same universe. They are slightly connected though 🤭

The rain begins to pour as Jungkook grips your hand, his touch both delicate and powerful, guiding you through the sudden downpour. Moments ago, you were laughing and playing at the local playground, unaware that Mother Nature was about to drench the world in her unexpected shower.

Your heart pounds in your chest and echoes in your ears as you race to keep up with Jungkook, a wide smile spreading across your face. For an eight-year-old, he’s pretty damn fast, making every step feel like a thrilling challenge.

He’s sprinting down familiar streets, and you quickly realize he’s heading towards your home. You’ve never seen his house or met his parents, but your own parents adore Jungkook, joking that he’s your future husband. You’re not thinking that far ahead—you’re just a child, after all. Yet, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a fondness for him.

Let’s be honest, you have the biggest crush on the sweet boy with the round face and big doe eyes that seem too large for his tiny head. His nose is adorable, and his teeth only add to his charm. In short, you love everything about him, even his occasional unreasonable moments. But when he pouts, sticking out his bottom lip in that irresistibly cute way, your heart completely melts.

Your house comes into view, but instead of heading inside, he veers into your backyard, leading you towards the hidden playhouse nestled among the bushes and small trees.

“Shouldn’t we get inside where it’s dry?” you ask, bewilderment etched across your face as you finally reach the playhouse. He crouches down and gently pulls you inside, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“No, we’ll be safe here,” he assures you, sitting down with his legs tucked under him. He bites his lip softly, a hint of nervousness flickering in his eyes.

“We should go inside; I don’t want either of us to catch a cold,” you mumble, settling beside him and feeling the warmth of his body next to yours. Despite not feeling chilled yet, you know it’s risky to stay out in wet clothes. It’s autumn, and although the air still holds a lingering warmth, you’re aware that it won’t last long.

“Let’s just stay here for a moment, okay?” he pleads, his eyes wide and his signature pout in full effect. You find yourself unable to resist—after all, who could say no to that adorable face?

For a few minutes, you sit there side by side, listening to the sky weep as rain patters softly on the roof of the playhouse. A few droplets sneak inside, but it hardly matters.

Jungkook suddenly turns to you, his expression unreadable— sadness flickers across his features, his normally warm brown eyes darkening to near-black in the dim light. His smile vanishes, replaced by a somberness that seems to weigh heavily on him. You can’t help but wonder what has shifted, why he’s undergone this sudden transformation in demeanor.

“___. Promise me you’ll never forget me?”

His eyes widen with earnestness, pleading like a puppy’s, and both of his hands seek yours, holding on as if afraid of being forgotten.

Emotions swirl in those hazel eyes, a tumultuous sea of feelings you struggle to decipher. You long to grasp his thoughts, to understand why he’s broaching the topic of forgetting him. But the idea is unfathomable to you; forgetting him seems as impossible as forgetting your own name.

Something shimmers in his eyes—what, you can’t quite discern. They resemble an ocean, deep and mysterious, where one could easily lose themselves if they stared for too long.

“Forget you? Kookie, what on earth are you talking about?” your eyes widen in disbelief, searching his face for any hint of understanding, but finding only confusion.

“It’s just... I like you a lot, and,” he murmurs, stumbling over his words, his hands fidgeting nervously with yours. Then, lifting his gaze to meet yours, he adds with a touch of vulnerability, “I’ll never forget you. You mean the world to me, ___. You’re my friend.”

With a warm smile and a gentle chuckle, you reply, “Duh, silly. Of course you’ll never forget me! And I’ll never forget you either. Now, can we please go inside?”

Jungkook smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes as it usually does, leaving a lingering unease in the pit of your stomach. It feels like a storm is brewing within you, mirroring the turbulent weather outside.

“Just promise me. We’ll never forget each other, no matter what,” he implores, his voice firm and unwavering, his eyes reflecting the solemnity of his words.

He clasps your hand with his own, seeking out your pinky finger.

“Pinky promise?” he asks, his eyes earnest, holding onto your gaze with a mix of hope and determination.

Your eyes flicker with a rapid dance of confusion and amusement. Despite the chaos of the moment, a smile spreads across your face, its warmth seeming to dissolve his frown and alleviate his frazzled state.

“Okay. Pinky promise,” you affirm, intertwining your pinky finger with his, sealing the pact with a vow that feels as timeless as eternity.

You never laid eyes on Jungkook after that—well, you did both retreat indoors, your mother showering Jungkook with love and sweet treats he adored. But after that day, twenty long years ago, he vanished from your life out of the blue, leaving only memories behind.

Why you’re thinking about him now, you really don’t know. Yet, just as he once asked of you, you’ve never let go of his memory—a part of you still holds onto the hope that he might reappear, surprising you around some unsuspecting corner, as if he never left. But with each passing day, the likelihood of such serendipity grows fainter, like the receding tide of the deep blue ocean.

Maybe it’s the nostalgia stirred by your recent home purchase by the sea that brings back memories of your childhood crush. The vast expanse of the ocean triggers thoughts of his eyes—not because of their color, but the way they used to glimmer, reflecting the light with a sparkle that danced like sunbeams on water.

Long strolls on the beach prove therapeutic, gradually pushing thoughts of your childhood crush to the recesses of your mind. With each step along the sandy shores, you uncover treasures—seashells, smoothed by the relentless embrace of the waves, and other mementos of seaside serenity.

You truly love the beach, which is why you chose to buy a house so close to the shore. It’s not just because the ocean reminds you of a certain childhood friend you wish you could see again. His sudden departure has always baffled you—sometimes you wonder what really happened.

Was he kidnapped, or did he simply leave without a word?

Why would he vanish without telling you first, especially if he just had to move?

It’s after dinner, and you find yourself lounging on your terrace, gazing out at the ocean. The view is breathtaking, and when the wind blows just right, the salty breeze gently caresses your skin. You smile a wistful smile as you raise your glass to your lips. Today is a red wine day; despite the heat, the perfectly chilled glass complements the warmth of the evening air.

With your legs propped up on the lounge chair, reclined for maximum comfort, you gaze out at the vast expanse of the sea. You can’t help but wonder about the treasures and secrets it holds, a mysterious world teeming with countless species you’ve never even heard of that call it home.

Mankind has long tried to conquer the world beneath the waters, yet the pitch-black depths of the ocean remain largely unexplored, beyond the reach of even the best diving gear. Though you’re no diver, the allure of the sea’s hidden secrets captivates you, and you dream of one day uncovering its mysteries.

A sweet, velvety sound caresses your ears, prompting you to sit up and listen more closely. The enchanting melody wraps around you, and you realize it’s a voice—someone is singing.

God, it sounds beautiful—captivating, sweet, and strong, yet tinged with sorrow. The melody weaves its way into your soul, leaving you spellbound.

For a moment, you wonder if it’s all in your head—a fleeting hallucination brought on by too much wine. But a glance at your glass and the nearly full bottle beside you confirms you’ve barely finished your first glass.

The voice is real, and it carries an eerily familiar tone. Intrigued, you rise from your comfortable lounge chair and make your way down to the sandy beach that has been your backyard for the past few days.

Your bare feet sink into the warm, fine sand, its texture caressing your skin. You glance around, searching for the source of the beautiful voice, but the beach remains empty, with no one in sight.

There it is again—the singing, so achingly beautiful that it sends shivers down your spine and raises the hair on your arms. Your feet carry you along the shoreline, but despite your efforts, you can’t pinpoint the source of the enchanting voice.

Then, just as you’ve been pacing up and down the shoreline, the voice abruptly vanishes—quiet as a still puddle after a rain shower. With a strange unease settling in your gut, you reluctantly turn back toward home. The voice felt hauntingly familiar, yet somehow elusive—like a distant memory struggling to resurface.

For the past few days, the hauntingly beautiful voice has serenaded you night after night, drawing you out to the beach in search of its mysterious owner. Despite your efforts, luck eludes you, and each failed attempt leaves you with a sense of frustration, reminiscent of the pout Jungkook used to give you whenever you were being unreasonable with him.

Your frustration mounts as the elusive voice continues to evade you, its hauntingly familiar tone persistently tugging at the corners of your mind.

Frustration coursing through your veins, you slip into your bikini, determined to quell the restlessness with a night swim in your aquatic backyard.

As the sand caresses your feet, you stroll down to the shoreline under the watchful gaze of the moon, its ethereal glow casting a mesmerizing sheen upon the water. The scene is nothing short of magical, and as the lukewarm water embraces your skin, a delightful chill courses through your body—not from the cold, but from the familiar embrace of your second home. The ocean has always held a special place in your heart, and in this moment, it feels like a sanctuary away from the world.

Surrendering to the embrace of the water, you allow its gentle currents to envelop you, cradling you in its soft embrace as you yield to its rhythmic sway. With only your head above the surface, you venture further into the depths, relishing the sensation of weightlessness and freedom that comes with each stroke.

A soft, melodic sound tickles your ear—it’s that captivating voice again! This time, it resonates clearer, as if drawing you in closer. Driven by curiosity, you swim towards the source of the sound, your heart pounding with anticipation. As you approach a cluster of rocks and a looming cliffside, you spy a cave nestled within its embrace, beckoning you with its mysterious allure.

The cave envelops you in darkness, yet the gentle glow of the full moon dances upon the water, casting an ethereal light that transforms the rocky surface of the cliff into glistening crystals. The voice reverberates off the walls, its echoes amplifying its haunting melody. Drawing closer, you discern a figure resting their head upon a rock, their silhouette illuminated by the moon’s gentle caress.

Intrigued, you inch closer, your curiosity piqued. As you approach, you discern the figure of a man, likely around your age, or perhaps a bit younger, reclining against the stone, his body partially obscured by its shadowy embrace.

“Hello?” you call out, your voice echoing softly in the cave. Instantly, a pair of dark brown eyes fixate on yours, their intensity sending a shiver of recognition down your spine.

As you hear something splashing nearby, you swiftly swim to the corner of the cave. Pulling yourself up onto the rocky surface, you cast an inquisitive gaze at the stranger, who remains silent, their expression enigmatic.

“Are you okay?” you inquire, met with silence as the man attempts to retreat, concealing more of his body beneath the murky depths, leaving you to wonder what secrets lie hidden beneath the surface.

You approach cautiously, taking slow, measured steps, careful not to startle the man. His features are striking—sharp, chiseled jawline, eyes wide and intense, lips full yet thin, and a cute nose that triggers a flood of memories from long ago, memories that have never faded.

“Jungkook?” you gasp, the name escaping your lips like a sudden gust of wind, stirring a whirlwind of emotions within you—happiness and hurt colliding like waves crashing against the shore, overwhelming you in their tumultuous embrace.

The man cautiously peers over the rock, his bare torso partially shielded from view. The sight of him shirtless prompts a flurry of questions in your mind—why is he here, and why is he without a shirt?

Is that a sleeve of tattoos on his right arm?

You can’t help but notice the strength in his neck, the prominent veins tracing a path down to his defined clavicle and broad shoulders. Damn it you really shouldn’t, but you find yourself shamelessly admiring his physique, a flush of embarrassment creeping up your cheeks.

“___?” His voice breaks the silence, light and airy, reminiscent of a summer breeze whispering through the leaves.

“Is it really you?” you inquire, lowering yourself to sit in front of him, your gaze sweeping over his features once more. His face holds a striking resemblance to someone from your past, now matured with the passage of time. Yet, those deep, familiar ocean eyes leave no doubt—it’s unmistakably Jungkook.

“Yes, it’s me,” he confirms, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips. The boyish charm of his smile clashes with the maturity reflected in his sharp features, creating a captivating contrast.

“What are you doing here?” you inquire, a mix of surprise and curiosity evident in your voice. The sight of him in this cave, serenading the darkness with his song, leaves you utterly bewildered.

“Just taking a breather,” he chuckles, his gaze shamelessly roaming over your form, sending a subtle shiver down your spine.

“Hold on a second,” you exclaim, frustration tinged with urgency in your voice as you scratch your head in bewilderment. “What brings you here? You vanished without a trace. What happened?”

Another splash in the water draws your attention, and you track the sound to behind Jungkook—then, you spot it: the tail. It’s a mesmerizing shade of purple, with delicate variations of violet shimmering in the moonlit cave. The translucent fins catch the light as they sway gracefully. The scales, rough and scaly, add to the otherworldly beauty of him.

Your jaw nearly hits the rocky surface—if it could, it surely would. You gaze, utterly transfixed, at the figure before you—your childhood friend, now revealed as a mermaid. No, a merman. The revelation leaves you reeling. How is this possible? You’ve heard of undiscovered species lurking beneath the waters, but this is your friend, someone you’ve known for years with two perfectly functional feet and no hint of a scaly tail.

“___,” he begins, his voice filled with warmth and genuine curiosity. “It’s been such a long time. How have you been?” His eyes radiate happiness, but you’re still reeling from the revelation before you. Seeing him again—something you’ve dreamt about for years—leaves you speechless.

“No,” you assert firmly, a rush of urgency in your tone. “You don’t get to ask questions yet. There are so many things I need answers to from you first.” Determined, you attempt to peer over the rock he’s perched on, desperate for a closer look at the astonishing sight before you—your childhood friend now bearing a tail, a reality that defies all logic.

“Alright, fire away,” he responds, a hint of amusement dancing in his voice. “But give me a moment to settle in.” With a graceful movement, he hoists himself out of the water, his biceps flexing as he perches on the rock, his tail lazily swaying in the water. Bathed in the soft glow of the cave, his majestic purple tail shimmers, leaving you in awe of his breathtaking beauty.

He seems big and broad shouldered, the tattoos look intricate, reflecting ancient scribbles and drawings on his arm.

You plop down on the rugged surface, your mind reeling with disbelief—it all feels like a surreal dream. Unable to resist, you extend your hand to touch him, as if to confirm his reality. Your index finger tentatively prods his cheek before trailing down to his chest. The moment your touch meets his pecs, you’re met with a jolt of realization—his muscles are firm, real, and undeniably tangible beneath your fingertips, sending a surge of heat through your veins as you inadvertently find yourself groping his impeccable chest.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his eyes darting from your hand on his chest back to your face. Embarrassment floods your cheeks with a deep crimson as the realization of your actions hits you. You’ve been feeling the solid warmth of his chest, lost in the surreal moment.

“Oh, God. I’m so sorry!” you blurt out, yanking your hand back as if it’s been scorched. “I didn’t mean to touch you like that!” Embarrassment floods through you, your heart racing as you pull away from the unexpected intimacy.

Damn it, get a grip, you chastise yourself silently. “I just wanted to make sure this is real,” you confess aloud, your voice trembling slightly with lingering disbelief.

You release a nervous chuckle, the sound betraying the disbelief still coursing through you. But as you take in the surreal sight before you—Jungkook, undeniably real and impossibly transformed—you can no longer deny the truth. Your childhood friend is here, right in front of you, and he is, astonishingly, a merman.

“Oh, this is very real,” he teases, his voice rich and layered with an enigmatic quality that you can’t quite decipher but are desperate to understand.

“Are you really a merman?” you ask, your gaze drifting back to his tail, mesmerized by its iridescent beauty. It’s breathtaking, almost otherworldly.

He nods, a soft smile playing on his lips, his eyes glimmering with a wistful nostalgia that tugs at your heartstrings.

“What happened to you? Why did you leave?” you demand, the urgency in your voice revealing the depth of your longing and confusion. These are the questions that have haunted you for years, the ones you swore you’d ask if you ever saw him again. Why did he disappear without a word, leaving you behind?

You watch as his expression shifts, becoming more guarded. “My parents and I had to move back home... to the ocean, I mean,” he explains, his face twitching as if struggling to mask an inner pain. “A rift in a tectonic plate devastated my village. Everything was destroyed, so we had to return and help rebuild.”

You study him closely, a lump forming in your throat as a myriad of emotions swirl within you.

“Okay. But why couldn’t you come back when you were done?” you inquire, your voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and hurt. It’s apparent that there are unresolved feelings of abandonment lingering within you, a reminder of the wounds you may need to address with your therapist.

“I really wanted to, but my parents and the village elders forbade it. We dedicated ourselves to rebuilding our village, but returning to the surface was strictly prohibited,” he explains, a palpable sadness tinting his words. It’s evident that he had yearned to reunite with you, but the weight of his responsibilities as a merman ultimately kept him bound to the depths of the ocean.

“Why are you here now? And are there others like you?” you inquire, a mix of bewilderment and intrigue coloring your tone. As you press for more information, you notice him visibly relax, his features softening once again in response to your curiosity.

“Well, I’ve been here for quite a while. I come up here to sing, often thinking of you, actually,” he confesses, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. “And yes, there are others like me,” he adds with a chuckle, the sound carrying a mixture of amusement and friendly banter.

“Thinking of me?” you stammer in amazement, your voice barely above a whisper as the weight of his words settles in.

“Yeah. I’ve missed you since I had to leave, and I’ve been searching for you for years. Meeting you again feels like a dream come true,” he confesses, his voice filled with palpable joy at the reunion with a long-lost friend. His words send a surge of warmth through you, igniting a flutter of emotions you thought long buried. As your heart skips a beat, you’re struck by the realization that the childhood crush you harbored for him still lingers, stronger than ever.

“I’ve missed you too,” you exhale, your voice barely above a whisper, heavy with emotion. With a gentle touch, you extend your hand, laying it atop his on the rough surface of the rock, a silent reassurance of your enduring bond.

“How come you’re a merman? You were just a boy last time I saw you…” you begin, not really knowing how to ask the question that you have swirling in your mind.

“You want to know if something happened to me, to make me like this,” he gestures with his other hand over his body— it’s well defined, muscles big and strong, “or if I’d always been a merman?” His words hang in the air, a poignant reminder of the mysteries surrounding his transformation.

You choke on air with how effortlessly he articulates your thoughts, a skill he’s always possessed. You nod in agreement, the intensity of your curiosity driving you to lean in closer, desperate to unravel the enigma of his transformation.

“I’ve always been a merman. My parents chose to live as humans— they’re merfolk too, by the way. But they wanted me to experience life on land. So, despite appearances, I’ve always been like this,” he explains, a smile gracing his lips as he playfully flips his tail in the water, sending ripples dancing in his wake.

“How… How do you transform?” you ask, studying him intently once more. Despite his remarkable change, he still retains that familiar essence, stirring up the remnants of the childhood crush you thought you’d outgrown. A flush of warmth creeps across your cheeks, betraying the intensity of your emotions.

“Well. When I’m out of water for an extended period, I assume my human form. And when I’m in contact with water, I revert to my merman form,” he explains, a soft smile gracing his lips. As his fingers intertwine with yours, his touch is tender, each stroke a gentle caress that ignites a spark of warmth within you.

You nod, absorbing his explanation, but then you gasp as his words sink in, a realization dawning on you. “Do you transform when it rains then?” you blurt out, the question bursting forth with newfound urgency and curiosity.

His laughter fills the air, rich and unrestrained, sending ripples of warmth through your chest. Your gaze instinctively drifts to his chest, where the rhythmic movement of his pectorals accompanies the melody of his mirth, a captivating display of joy that you can’t help but revel in.

“No. That wouldn’t be very practical. It has to be seawater, or simply prolonged exposure to water can also do the trick,” he explains, his tone laced with a hint of amusement at the notion of rain-induced transformations.

You nod in understanding once more. “Nothing about this is practical, Jungkook,” you remark, a hint of incredulity lacing your tone.

He chuckles again, withdrawing his hand from yours and gently cupping your cheek. His touch sends a surge of warmth coursing through you, like a dormant ember suddenly ignited into a flickering flame, ready to blaze anew.

He locks eyes with you, his gaze unwavering and intense, brimming with depths of emotion that beckon you to explore. It’s like peering into an uncharted ocean, filled with mysteries waiting to be discovered. Despite the unfamiliarity, you’re drawn to dive deep and lose yourself in the depths of his gaze.

“Do you remember our promise?” he murmurs, his voice a gentle rumble, yet resolute. Seeking solace in the familiarity of your gaze, his words carry the weight of cherished memories and unspoken vows.

“Of course,” you respond with a bittersweet smile, lifting your hand and extending your pinky finger. “I’ve never forgotten you, Jungkook,” you affirm, the weight of years past and promises kept evident in your touch.

He hums a melody, its tune unfamiliar yet strangely soothing, and in that moment, you find solace in the sound of his voice, the melody a balm to your racing heart. “I’ve never forgotten you either, ___,” he confesses, his words carrying the weight of shared memories and enduring connection.

With his other hand, he reaches out, extending his pinky finger to intertwine with yours, creating a connection that feels like two worlds colliding, merging into one. It’s a moment of transcendence, where past and present converge, binding you both in a promise that spans the depths of time.

“I never got to tell you this on that day, and it has haunted me since, but I like you,” His words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken truths and a vulnerability that echoes through your soul. As he gazes into your eyes, it feels like he’s peeling away layers of your being, leaving you exposed and vulnerable, despite the fabric that shields your skin. With each moment, he draws nearer, his touch a gentle anchor amidst the whirlwind of emotions swirling between you.

“I like you too,” your confession hangs in the air, suspended between you like a delicate thread woven with anticipation and longing. With every word, you feel the weight of your emotions, amplified by the closeness of his presence. As your breath brushes against his skin, you can almost taste the bittersweet tang of desire mingled with the salt of the ocean breeze.

In his embrace, you feel cherished, cocooned in a world where only the two of you exist. His gaze, laden with affection, dances between the depths of your eyes and the soft curve of your lips, a silent symphony of desire. You catch the subtle flicker of his pupils as they dilate, mirroring the fluttering of your heart. A fleeting gesture, your tongue brushes against your lips, a subtle invitation to bridge the divide between longing and fulfillment.

In the hushed sanctuary of the moonlit cave, time seems to stretch into a languid dance, enveloping you both in its tender embrace. The world outside fades into a distant murmur, leaving only the rhythmic melody of your shared breaths echoing off the rocky walls. Your gaze descends to the plush pinkness of his lips, a tantalizing invitation begging to be explored. A surge of curiosity and desire courses through you, igniting a tempest of longing as you ponder the intoxicating possibility of tasting his kiss.

“Can I kiss you?” His question hangs in the air like a delicate promise, and you feel a rush of anticipation flooding your senses, the tension between you crackling like electricity. His words, soft yet laden with unspoken longing, send a tremor of excitement coursing through your veins. In that suspended moment, you find yourself caught in the irresistible pull of his gaze, his eyes a sea of swirling emotions mirroring your own. With a silent plea echoing in your heart, you grant him permission with a subtle nod, your breath hitching in anticipation as you yearn for the moment when his lips will meet yours.

His tattooed hand, warm and possessive, slides from your cheek to the back of your neck with a gentle urgency, pulling you into him as if he’s afraid you might slip away. When his lips meet yours, it’s like a collision of stars, soft yet electric, igniting a wildfire of sensation that courses through your veins. As he pulls back, his eyes searching yours for any hint of discomfort, you’re overcome with a rush of warmth and affection. With a soft chuckle escaping your lips, you reach for him, fingers intertwining with the soft strands of his hair as you draw him closer. The second kiss is a revelation, a crescendo of desire and longing that leaves you breathless and craving more. His hum reverberates against your lips, grounding you in the intensity of the moment, like a lifeline in a sea of swirling emotions.

You draw back reluctantly, a sigh escaping your lips as you feel the bittersweet ache of parting. “It’s getting late,” you murmur, the weight of reality settling in as you remember your responsibilities waiting beyond the cave’s embrace.

“When will I see you again?” the question hangs between you like a delicate thread, woven with hope and uncertainty, longing for reassurance in the face of impending separation.

A mischievous glint dances in his eyes, and he licks his lips with a playful flick of his tongue, relishing the way your senses are all tangled up in a whirlwind of emotions—frazzled yet utterly blissed-out in his presence.

“Soon,” he assures with a reassuring smile, his touch lingering for a moment longer as his thumb caresses your lip, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. “You can always find me here, or just listen for my voice. But duty calls back home. I’ll return, I promise.” With that, he pulls away, releasing you from the spell of the moment, but leaving behind a promise that lingers in the air like the echo of his voice in the cave.

Reluctantly, you rise, dusting off imaginary particles from your skin with a sweep of your hands, lingering in the moment a bit longer. With a soft smile, you regard him, your eyes filled with a mixture of fondness and longing.

“You really have a beautiful voice, Jungkook,” you murmur, the words carrying a weight of sincerity and admiration, like a gentle breeze in the tranquil cave.

With a smile that seems to illuminate the entire cave, he gracefully immerses himself in the water, causing it to dance and ripple around him like liquid poetry in motion.

“I can’t wait to see you again,” you express, your voice tinged with a mixture of longing and affection, each word carrying the weight of the emotions you hold for him.

“I’ll be counting the moments until our paths cross again,” he murmurs softly, his words carrying on the gentle breeze as he fades into the depths below, leaving you with the lingering promise of his return.

Jungkook had indeed kept his word. Though you trusted him, a small part of you feared you’d never see him again. Yet, the very next day, he reappeared in the cave, serenading you with a song as you basked in his presence. This enchanting ritual has continued every day for the past two weeks, each encounter deepening your bond and making the fear of losing him fade away.

So far, your encounters have been limited to kisses, which you absolutely love—his lips are incredibly soft. Yet, lately, you’ve found yourself yearning for more. The stress of your upcoming housewarming party, which you’ve shared with Jungkook, isn’t helping. You think that letting loose with him might be just what you need to de-stress.

“Why are you having this party again if you don’t really want to?” he asks, genuinely curious. He can’t fathom why you’d willingly burden yourself with the hassle of pleasing others when it clearly brings you no joy.

“I guess it’s just expected of me,” you muse, looking down at the sparkling water as his tail gently plays with it, creating ripples. “My friends are coming, my parents too. They haven’t seen my new house yet.”

He smiles at you, a touch of sadness in his eyes. “It’s nice that you’re doing this for them, but it sounds like you’re forcing yourself. That makes me a bit sad.”

You shake your head and put up your hands in defense. “Yeah, but it’s okay. It’s not like I dislike it completely. It’ll be nice seeing my friends again.” You pause, a sudden idea lighting up your face.

“You could also come, you know?”

His face brightens momentarily, but then he slumps down in the water, looking a bit deflated. “I’d love to come, but I’m not sure I can. My hyungs need my help in the village; one of them has been missing for days, and we’ve been searching for him without luck…” His voice trails off, a mix of concern and disappointment etched on his face.

You feel a twinge of sadness for him and say softly, “I’m so sorry, Jungkook. I hope you find him soon. Just know you’re always welcome, no matter when.”

His smile returns, but there’s a hint of worry in his eyes as he speaks. “Thanks. Jimin usually never wanders off, that’s why we’re afraid something has happened to him.”

You envelop him in a hug, offering what comfort you can, despite not knowing Jimin. You silently pray for Jimin’s swift return—after all, you understand more than most the ache of missing a piece of your heart.

A few days later, the soft strains of music fill your home, weaving through the laughter and chatter of old and new friends alike, and the comforting presence of your parents, whose faces you haven’t seen in what feels like an eternity.

As you mingle with your friends, catching up on stories and laughter, time seems to dance away unnoticed. It’s only when the gentle kiss of the evening breeze starts to nip at your skin that you realize how long you’ve been engrossed in conversation with your colleague out on the terrace. With a shared chuckle at the sudden chill, you both retreat inside, seeking the warmth of good company and lively conversations.

Her joke evokes laughter from you, but the moment is abruptly interrupted by her sudden silence, drawing your attention to where her finger points. In the kitchen, your parents stand, their faces alight with smiles, engaged in conversation with a tall, dark-haired man whose locks curl gently at the ends.

Her curiosity piques as she nudges you with a mischievous grin.

“Who’s that hot man with a tattooed arm over there talking with your parents?” she asks, her voice tinged with intrigue, prompting both of you to draw nearer to the kitchen.

As you draw closer, disbelief gives way to certainty: it’s unmistakably Jungkook standing beside your parents.

“___! You never mentioned Jungkook’s return! How long has it been, twenty years?” your mother exclaims, her smile radiant as she pinches Jungkook’s cheek affectionately, treating him like a long-lost child returned home.

Your dad’s eyes sparkle with the warmth of a long-awaited reunion, as if he’s just rediscovered an old friend, and you can’t help but chuckle at the scene unfolding before you.

Your mother reaches out to embrace Jungkook, her petite frame enveloped by his much larger one, but he indulges her with a warm hug, wrapping her in a comforting embrace.

With a playful grin, your friend nudges you, her eyes darting between you and Jungkook, a knowing glint sparkling in them. “Who is this handsome man?”

As you break from your reverie, you manage a sheepish grin, your voice carrying a hint of nostalgia and excitement. “This is Jungkook, my childhood friend. We go way back.”

“He’s hot,” your friend’s observation cuts through the air with a boldness that makes you chuckle, her eyes gleaming mischievously as she sizes up Jungkook.

Your mother’s laughter fills the room, a warm melody that dances around the air. “He really is! You’ve really outgrown that cute bunny phase you had,” she teases, her fingers playfully squeezing Jungkook’s rather impressive biceps.

“Mom! You’re embarrassing me,” you groan, a mixture of embarrassment and exasperation painting your voice as you reach for Jungkook’s hand, eager to escape the teasing clutches of both your parents and your friend.

As you pull him away, Jungkook chuckles softly, following you into the living room where you both sink into the inviting embrace of the couch.

Amidst the chatter filling the room, engaging in conversation with Jungkook proves challenging, his words often drowned out by the lively voices of others around you.

“Would you like to step out for a bit? Take a stroll along the beach?” he proposes, his gaze alight with anticipation, as if the idea itself holds a promise of something wonderful.

With a nod, you clasp his hand, a silent agreement passing between you. But before you step out into the night, you make a quick detour to your friend, informing her of your plans for a seaside stroll.

She scrutinizes you with the intensity of a hawk, then delves into her purse, emerging with something in hand. “Here,” she says, passing it to you.

“I have a feeling you might need this.”

You accept the small foil packet, its presence alone sending a jolt of recognition through you. Your cheeks and ears ignite with heat, and you hastily tuck it into your jeans pocket, your gratitude tinged with embarrassment. “Thanks,” you murmur, your voice slightly breathless.

As you begin to turn away, she shoots you a playful wink, causing you to release a sigh of embarrassment, your cheeks still flushed with color.

Outside, you stroll barefoot on the sand, reveling in the moment with Jungkook by your side—both of you connected to the earth beneath your feet. His presence captivates you, his figure tall and striking against the backdrop of the beach. Shoulder-length hair dances around his face, adding to his allure. With each step, you admire his physique—broad shoulders tapering to a defined waist, muscular thighs moving with purpose. Clad in a white tank top, his biceps speak of strength, while his snug blue denim jeans accentuate his powerful legs, showcasing a silhouette that commands attention.

His human form is undeniably beautiful, but it pales in comparison to the breathtaking splendor of his merman form. This realization brings a soft smile to your lips, and a blush warms your cheeks.

You walk with him along the beach, your hand nestled comfortably in his, the silence stretching between you like a warm blanket. It feels like an eternity before he clears his throat, a deep rumble that breaks the quiet. “Do you want to go to the cave?” he asks, his voice tinged with a hopeful anticipation.

You look up at him, captivated by the soft, teasing smile playing on his lips. “Yeah,” you agree, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest.

“Cool. I know a way to get there from land,” he says, pulling you along the shore. Your feet sink into the cool sand with each step, the waves gently lapping at your ankles as you follow him, while he makes an effort not to let the seawater touch him.

“You do? I thought it was only accessible from the sea,” you chuckle, feeling the excitement build as he leads you closer to the rocky formations along the cliffside.

“I know a lot of hiding spots,” he giggles, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes as he reveals a narrow, almost hidden entryway in the cliffside, just big enough for him to slip through.

You step into the familiar cliffside cave where you’ve been meeting for the past few weeks. Nestling into the small sandy patch, the only section not enveloped in stone, you feel a comforting sense of familiarity mixed with anticipation.

“Much easier to talk in here, huh?” Jungkook chuckles, leaning back against the cave wall. The gentle echo of his laughter fills the space, making it feel cozier. You nod, a soft, airy chuckle escaping your lips as a blush warms your cheeks. Sitting beside him, the intimacy of the cave amplifies every shared glance and whispered word.

You look up at him, your eyes fluttering bashfully. “I don’t really want to talk anymore,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh, I thought you wanted to talk,” he says, his voice deflating as a pout forms on his lips. That’s when it hits you—he has no idea how much you crave him, how badly you want to feel him, everywhere.

You turn your body towards his, your hands caressing his face as you pull his face towards yours. “I want to do more than talk,” you quip, your voice small but steady. “I want to kiss you and so much more.”

Something seems to snap in him, and a mischievous smirk spreads across his cheeks. He moves his face closer to yours, your noses almost touching. “So you want more?” he teases, his voice a tantalizing whisper against your lips.

“Yes,” you breathe, the word escaping in a breathless pant as you close the distance between you. Your lips meet his in a fervent, passionate kiss, igniting a fire that blazes between you. Your hands hold his cheeks in place, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch, as he responds eagerly, deepening the kiss with his tongue, sending waves of desire coursing through you.

When you part, both of your eyes are wide, pupils dilated with desire, reflecting the intensity of the moment.

“I want you, Kook,” you plead, your breath mingling with his, your foreheads pressed together in an intimate connection.

Your fingertips trace the lines of his body, dancing over the contours of his chest until they halt at the brink of his jeans.

“I want you too, ___, but I—” he pants, his words cut short as you start to rub your hand over his clothed dick, eliciting a deep, gratifying groan from him.

You keep teasing him with your hand, feeling the growing hardness beneath your touch, sending shivers of anticipation down your spine. You lick your lips, watching as his face contorts in pleasure, every subtle reaction driving you wild with desire.

“Hmm, you like it?” you ask, positioning yourself directly in front of him, locking eyes as you continue your ministrations.

“Yes, but I—” as your hand maintains its pressure on his crotch, he stammers out his words, his voice a mixture of desire and hesitation.

“What, are you a virgin?” your playful tease hangs in the air, accompanied by a soft chuckle, as you lean in closer to him, your breath warming his ear with your whispered words.

“No!” His response is hurried, almost defensive, tinged with a hint of embarrassment. “I’ve just never done it with a human before…” he confesses, his tone a mixture of vulnerability and curiosity.

You draw back slightly, scanning his face, catching a glimpse of uncertainty mingled with desire flickering in his eyes.

“I can guide you through it, show you what feels good. Trust me, you’ll enjoy every moment,” you say, your eyes shimmering with a mix of confidence and anticipation.

“I mean, Jin hyung already told me how it works,” he pants, his gaze fixated on your hand as it works its magic, his hips instinctively moving in rhythm, “I’ve touched myself before, out of curiosity, but I’ve never had sex with a human before.”

Your expression softens, recognizing that this is a new experience for him, so you resolve to take it slow.

“Mermen don’t exactly have dicks like humans,” he chuckles, his movements against your hand betraying his eagerness for friction.

You lean in again, teasing him, “How exactly do merfolk have sex?”

He chuckles, smirking at you, “Well, it’s more like a mating ritual, honestly. There’s some swimming around, almost like a dance, rubbing against each other. It’s quite primal and intimate, in its own way.”

You frown, a mixture of curiosity and disbelief evident on your face. “That’s it?”

He nods, his expression both amused and sincere.’

“No teasing? Release of bodily fluids? Making out? Sticking things into holes?” you list, your expression a mix of incredulity and disappointment. God, you really do like sex and all of the things you just listed. Mermaid intercourse sounds slightly boring in comparison.

“No sticking things into holes sadly—except for tongue kissing,” he chuckles, masking his disappointment with a playful grin, though you sense a tinge of longing in his eyes.

“But you get to try that now, okay? Then you can tell all your friends how it is to have sex with a human,” you smile, feeling a bit mischievous, your words laced with humor as you try to lighten the mood after the serious discussion.

“Many of them have already experienced it,” he laughs, his tone tinged with excitement and a hint of anticipation, “My hyungs have done it a lot, and I can’t wait to experience it myself.”

“They sound like they’ve had their fair share of adventures,” you chuckle, stealing a glance downwards, noticing the telltale strain in his pants.

He chuckles, a faint blush tinting his cheeks. “Can we talk about something else? Because I’m having trouble focusing on your hand when I’m talking about my friends.”

With a playful laugh, you grasp the situation and share a knowing glance. Eager to reignite the passionate spark between you, you playfully unzip his pants, only to discover he’s gone commando—a thrilling surprise that sets your heart racing and ignites a rush of desire.

A mischievous grin plays on your lips as you raise an eyebrow, your fingers wrapping around his cock teasingly. “No underwear?” you jest, a playful twinkle in your eye, as you give him a tantalizing stroke, feeling his anticipation building with each caress.

With a low, guttural sound, he shifts his weight, arching his back to assist as you peel off the remainder of his jeans. Your fingers eagerly find their way back to his dick, marveling at its girth and length, already imagining the delicious stretch it will bring. The anticipation sends shivers down your spine.

His cock is long— longer than average, and thicker too. The tip is red, a small bead of precum gathered at the top, just waiting to be tasted by your tongue.

He teases you, his hips surging upward as if to test your grip. “Do you like it?” he murmurs, a hint of mischief in his voice, his eyes locking onto yours as he waits for your response.

You meet his gaze with a smirk, your fingers still wrapped around him. “Yeah, it’s impressive,” you concede, your voice laced with anticipation. Honestly, you don’t care much about the size of it, more about how good he is at using it.

He watches you intently, his gaze probing yet curious. “Have you had a lot of sex before?”

You nod and give him a small smile.

You lean in closer, your eyes locked with his, conveying your sincerity and eagerness. “I have, but let’s focus on us now,” you whisper, your voice tinged with determination. “I want to make you feel good, and then you can return the favor. How does that sound?”

With a tantalizing smile, you moisten your lips before lowering them to his cock. The instant contact makes him quiver, a reaction that only fuels your desire. You start by tracing him with your tongue, savoring his taste, before enveloping him completely in your warm, wet mouth.

He utters adorable, needy moans as your mouth envelops him, his reactions spurring you on as you slide up and down, sucking him with fervor and intensity.

His hands find your hair, gripping it gently at first, then with a bit more urgency, but you don’t mind one bit. Instead, it fuels your desire, urging you to take more of him into your mouth, to please him further with every movement.

The echoing sounds of slurping fill the cave, reverberating off the rocky walls, creating a symphony of desire. Each wet, sucking noise only fuels your arousal further, igniting a fire within you that burns hotter with every passing moment.

“Shit. I’m feeling like I might come already,” he pants, his fingers tightening in your hair, a futile attempt to control the rising tide of pleasure coursing through him.

You release him with a soft pop, panting as you meet his pleading gaze, a flicker of desire mirrored in your eyes, silently promising more to come.

“It felt really good, but I really want to know what it feels like being inside your pussy, please,” his plea echoes through the cave, his eyes pleading like a desperate puppy, and you can’t help but chuckle at his adorable earnestness, your own desire kindled by his longing gaze.

“Of course. I want to have you inside of me too,” you pant, urgency seeping into your voice as you hastily pull your shirt over your head, revealing the lace of your bra to him, a silent invitation in the flickering light of the cave.

“You’re stunning,” he breathes, his voice filled with awe and genuine appreciation. “It’s not just your body that I love, but your entire essence, your personality—it’s all so captivating.”

Your smile widens, mirroring the warmth and affection swelling in your chest as you gaze at him. As you begin to unbutton your pants, a thought nudges its way into your consciousness. Retrieving the foil packet from your pocket, you place it on the ground between you, a silent promise of the intimacy about to unfold.

Jungkook’s gaze flickers to the foil packet, curiosity sparking in his eyes like a flame catching kindling. “What’s that?” he asks, his voice laced with intrigue and a hint of anticipation, as if sensing the gravity of the moment wrapped in that small, innocuous package.

You chuckle softly, charmed by his innocence, realizing he’s never encountered a condom before. It’s endearing, really, how sheltered his underwater world has been.

“It’s a condom. It’s for protection,” you explain gently, feeling a mix of tenderness and amusement at his innocence. “You put it on your cock. I’m on birth control, but it never hurts to be extra safe,” you assure him, deciding to take the lead and offer to help him put it on.

As you attempt to open the foil packet, he intercepts your movement with a smirk, halting you with his hand. “Not now. I want to taste you first. Can I? And will you let me know if you like it or not? I’ve never tried it before,” he trails off, his voice soft and endearing. It’s moments like these that make you realize just how charming he can be.

His hands find purchase on your hips, and with a deliberate tug, he pulls your pants down, leaving you bare in your underwear. His gaze travels over you, from your eyes down to your dripping cunt, igniting a fire of anticipation in your core.

“Your panties are wet.”

You chuckle in response, a mix of excitement and nervousness dancing in your eyes as you obediently part your legs wider, inviting him in with a playful yet anticipatory smirk.

“That’s because I’m aroused,” you confess, your voice barely a whisper as his touch sends a delicious shiver down your spine, your anticipation building with every electrifying caress of his hand against your hip bone and down to your pussy.

“You can remove it,” you whisper, your voice husky with desire, as you arch your back, offering yourself to him, a silent invitation. With a slow, deliberate motion, he slides your panties down your legs, revealing your glistening pussy to the dimly lit cave, the anticipation thickening the air between you.

He lowers himself between your parted legs, his touch sending shivers up your spine as his hands explore the soft skin of your thighs, eliciting playful giggles from your lips. With agonizing slowness, his fingertips inch closer to your aching pussy, your body aching with desire, yearning for his touch. You find yourself silently begging for him to make contact, your entire being consumed by the anticipation of his caress.

“Please, Jungkook,” you implore, your voice trembling with urgency and longing, “I need to feel you, your touch—whether it’s your fingers or your mouth, I don’t care. Just touch me.”

As he gazes into your eyes, his expression filled with desire and understanding, he delicately traces his index finger over your sensitive clit. The sensation overwhelms you, eliciting a strangled gasp of his name, your body responding eagerly to his touch.

With each gentle stroke of his finger over your clit, you can’t help but release a soft moan, your body instinctively responding to his touch. Sensing your pleasure, he continues, his movements becoming more confident as he circles and rubs your clit, each touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

As your breath quickens and your body trembles with anticipation, you find it increasingly difficult to maintain control, your legs quivering with need. Sensing your urgency, he gently guides your legs apart with his free hand, allowing him better access to your pussy.

He watches, entranced, as your clit pulsates, the rhythmic flexing and relaxing of the muscle a mesmerizing sight. The vision of your arousal sends a jolt of desire through him, making his own need painfully evident.

“You can put a finger in,” you pant, your voice trembling with need, eyes wide and pleading for more.

He looks up, his eyes searching yours, “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice a husky whisper filled with both concern and anticipation.

You bite your bottom lip, a soft groan escaping your throat. “Yes, Jungkook,” you breathe, your voice laced with desperate longing, “I want your fingers inside me now.”

With the hand that was expertly teasing your clit, Jungkook slides it down to your slick folds, marveling at how you glisten in the moonlit cave. He gently positions his index finger, then slowly, almost tantalizingly, pushes it inside you, making you gasp at the intimate sensation.

The pleasure hits you instantly, a surge of desire overwhelming your senses. You crave more, each second intensifying your need, as if every nerve in your body is crying out for him.

“Wow,” he breathes, mesmerized by the sight of his finger slowly disappearing into your hole, his eyes wide with awe and desire.

Mesmerized, he begins thrusting his finger in and out of you, his movements slow and deliberate. Your sweet noises of pleasure fill the cave, encouraging him. After a moment, he looks up, his voice husky with desire, “Can I add another one?”

You nod, and another finger slips into your pussy, stretching you just a bit more. The sensation is intoxicating, yet you crave so much more. You’re trying to maintain control, to let him take his time, but the need inside you is almost overwhelming.

“Please,” you whisper urgently, your voice trembling with desire, “add a third finger and use your other hand to play with my clit.” You crave the sensation, the stretch, the readiness for his cock, your need palpable in every word.

With a swift motion, you unhook your bra, allowing it to slip to the ground. His movements pause as his gaze fixes on your exposed chest—your nipples standing pert and proud, a silent invitation to his touch.

As his gaze reluctantly leaves your exposed chest, he resumes his attention on you, the third finger sliding into you with a gasp of pleasure escaping your lips at the welcomed stretch. His thumb, slick with your juices, finds your clit once more, initiating a rhythm that sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Breathless and on the edge of ecstasy, you manage to muster the question, your voice filled with awe and admiration, “Are you sure you haven’t done this before? Because you’re really good at it.”

His laughter dances in the air, a melody to your unraveling pleasure. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he withdraws his fingers, leaving you with a perplexed frown until you see him drawing nearer, his tongue tracing the contours of your pussy.

You surrender to the ecstasy, tossing your head back as waves of pleasure wash over you, relishing the sensation of his velvety tongue caressing every contour of your quivering folds and sending electric pulses of delight through your clit.

With a hunger that matches your own, he envelops your clit, his mouth becoming a vortex of ravenous need, as he sucks and teases, drawing forth the essence of your desire and savoring every drop of your arousal with a fervent devotion.

With an almost expert touch, he draws your sensitive bud into his mouth, creating a vortex of sensation that sends electrifying pulses of pleasure coursing through your body. Each suction brings you closer to the edge, igniting a fiery intensity that threatens to consume you entirely. As you pant and gasp, your senses reel with the impending release, the anticipation coiling tighter within you like a spring ready to unleash its pent-up energy.

Your fingers trace the curves of your breasts, igniting a trail of sensation that sends shivers down your spine. With each touch, you feel the heat building within you, a primal urge demanding release. Your fingertips dance over your nipples, teasing them to attention, and you can’t help but respond with a symphony of gasps and moans.

Jungkook’s gaze flickers up, drawn to the symphony of your movements, your gasps and moans orchestrating a melody of desire. Yet, he remains steadfast in his task, his lips and tongue weaving a spell of ecstasy as he devours you with hunger, like he has done this many times before. It’s as though he’s an artist, each stroke of his tongue a masterpiece, each flicker of his lips a masterpiece of passion.

As your body arches and trembles with impending release, you’re acutely aware that the peak of ecstasy is just within reach. “Jungkook,” you gasp, your voice a fervent plea, “I’m... I’m going to come.”

With his deep chuckle vibrating against your most sensitive spot, you’re overcome by the intoxicating blend of sensations. In an instant, your world explodes into a symphony of pleasure, your fingers tangling in his ebony locks, anchoring you to the dizzying whirlwind of ecstasy as he eagerly savors every drop of your essence.

With a gentle and tender gaze, he pulls away, his features adorned with a shimmer of your essence. “Was this alright?” he murmurs, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty, yet his eyes brimming with warmth and adoration. With a gasp of disbelief, you draw him into a passionate kiss, savoring the mingling taste of yourself on his lips, yet your heart races with an electric thrill. “It was perfect,” you murmur against his mouth, your voice laden with sincerity and longing, sealing the moment with fervent intensity.

“Now you can fuck me,” filled with need, you voice your desire, urgency coloring every syllable, as you reach for his shirt and hastily pull it over his head. Your fingers fumble with the foil packet, opening it with a sense of anticipation, before your hand finds his still-hard cock.

With careful precision, you slide the condom over his dick, a tangible barrier between you and raw desire. As you spread your legs, creating space for him, his cock hovers tantalizingly close to where you ache for him most. In his gaze, you detect a mixture of longing and uncertainty, silently seeking your permission to proceed.

You take control, grasping his cock firmly and guiding it to your eager entrance. With a whispered instruction, you urge him to press forward, “Push a little, but slowly.”

As he nods in agreement, a determined glint ignites in his eyes. With gentle yet purposeful movements, he starts to ease his cock into the welcoming warmth of your eager pussy, each inch sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body, stretching you deliciously with every inch gained.

His breath hitches, voice laced with wonderment, “Wow. You’re so tight,” he pants, his words punctuated by the sensation of more and more of his dick disappearing into the velvety depths of your cunt, a symphony of pleasure enveloping you both with each inch he claims.

“God, you’re big,” you pant back, a mixture of excitement and anticipation lacing your voice as you try your best to relax, welcoming the exquisite stretch and fullness as he almost fills you up, every inch of him stirring a delicious ache within you.

Finally, he’s completely inside, and you release a shaky breath you didn’t even realize you’d been holding, feeling every pulsing inch of him deep within you, a rush of sensation flooding your senses as you revel in the delicious fullness he provides.

“You can move now,” you encourage him with a smile, eager anticipation shimmering in your eyes as you invite him to explore the depths of pleasure with each rhythmic thrust.

“How? You’re hugging me so tight,” he groans in pleasure, his voice tinged with uncertainty, as if seeking your direction amidst the waves of sensation coursing through both of you.

“Feel how we fit together?” you whisper, your hands tenderly guiding his hips. “Just move your hips—back and forth. Follow the rhythm of our bodies, and trust me, it’ll be amazing.”

“I already feel so good.”

He starts with a gentle push, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through you. With each thrust, he delves deeper, igniting an electric dance between your bodies, and you can’t help but moan in bliss.

“Don’t stop—faster,” you urge him on, and he responds with a surge of intensity, each thrust echoing in the cavern, a symphony of desire enveloping you both.

Your hands abandon his ass and hips once you’re satisfied he’s got the rhythm, his every thrust hitting that perfect spot, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through you, your eyes rolling back in pleasure.

You moan his name, the sound igniting a primal response in him, his grunts mingling with your name, creating a symphony of passion in the cave.

“Keep going—harder,” you plead, your voice laced with urgency and desire. With each thrust, he drives into you with unyielding force, your back meeting the rough cave wall, igniting a primal intensity that leaves you breathless. You know there’ll be marks and scratches later, but at this moment, all you care about is the raw, primal pleasure he’s giving you.

“Yes!” you scream, your voice echoing against the walls of the cave, the intensity of his thrusts driving you to clutch his strong biceps for leverage. The intricate tattoo sleeve he has on his right arm, flexing with the strength he puts into his thrusts. With each powerful movement of his hips, he plunges deeper into you, igniting a primal fire that consumes both of you in an insatiable frenzy.

“___. I think I’m going to come soon,” he confesses, his voice strained with pleasure, his brows furrowing in anticipation of the impending release.

“Me too. Shit. Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” you gasp out, your disbelief mingling with the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. His skill and passion feel too seasoned for a first-timer, leaving you both questioning the truth of his innocence.

“I’m just a fast learner,” he teases, his lips finding solace on one of your exposed nipples, eliciting a fervent moan of his name from you.

He sucks and nibbles at it, all while hitting your soft spot with precision. It’s an onslaught of sensation, driving you to the edge of ecstasy. You can feel the coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter within you, threatening to unravel at any moment.

With a tantalizing pop, he releases your nipple, only to lavish the same attention on its twin. His kisses, licks, and sucking send ripples of pleasure through your body, each touch igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume you whole.

That’s it. You’re gonna come again.

“Fuck, Kook,” you cry out, the intensity of the moment overwhelming you as you surrender to the torrent of ecstasy, your pussy releasing your liquid and pulsating around his cock, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you with the breakneck speed he’s moving his hips at.

“Damn, how did you just get even tighter?” he groans, his voice strained with pleasure, his primal urges driving him to the brink of ecstasy. You feel his urgency, knowing he’s teetering on the edge of release.

“Fuck—” he pants, his breath ragged and erratic. Then, he stutters, his movements turning feral for a moment as you feel his cock twitch inside your pussy, and he releases into the condom, his body shuddering with the intensity of his climax.

He stills inside you, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he puts all of his weight into his arms. You gaze at him with a smile, your hand finding his cheek, gently pulling him closer to you, a silent reassurance in your touch.

You kiss him tenderly, the intimacy lingering in the air as your lips meet in a long and deep embrace. When you finally part, your breath mingling, you whisper softly, “I loved every moment of it.”

“Me too,” his voice carries a gentle exhaustion, mirroring the weariness you also feel settling in. You share a quiet moment, the weight of your shared passion and pleasure evident in the silence that follows.

As he gradually softens inside you, he withdraws gently. You swiftly retrieve the condom, deftly disposing of it with a practiced flick, tossing it into the depths of the cave, a silent testament to the intimacy shared in this hidden sanctuary.

“Can we do it again?” he pleads, his eyes ablaze with desire, each word heavy with anticipation, begging for another swim into ecstasy.

“Yeah, I’d love that,” you murmur, pressing your lips to his once more, the promise of another intimate time igniting a fire within you both.

“But maybe we can go for a swim first?” you suggest with a playful glint in your eyes as you feel your breathing gradually returning to normal.

His expression shifts to one of surprise. “You want to swim? I’ll revert to my merman form then…”

You gently grasp his cheek, locking eyes with him, the intensity of your gaze echoing your sincerity. “I love you, whether you’re in your merman or human form. I love all of you. And yes, I want to swim with you. You know how much I love being in the water.”

As he eases into your proximity, he nods, inching towards the water within the cave. With a mesmerizing display, a cascade of sparkle and glitter dances in the air as his legs seamlessly meld into a majestic purple tail. Your jaw drops, captivated once again by the breathtaking sight of his merman form, each time feeling like the first time you saw him like this.

He gracefully glides into the water with a splash, and you eagerly trail behind, tentative at first, dipping your toes into the cool embrace, then succumbing to the gentle caress that envelops your entire naked form.

You swim alongside him, venturing beyond the confines of the cave, out into the vast expanse of the open sea. The ocean stretches endlessly, meeting the horizon in a seamless blend of moonlit waves. Above, the sky is a tapestry of stars, each one twinkling like a promise of infinite possibilities. Though your house is a distant silhouette against the shore, it fades from your thoughts in the enchantment of this moment.

As you glide through the water beside him, the gentle rhythm of his tail occasionally breaking the surface with playful splashes, you find yourself drawn to the mystery of his world. “I’d love to see your home someday,” you say, the words carried away by the ocean breeze, mingling with the soft lullaby of the waves.

“Yeah. I know a witch that can turn you into a mermaid, if you really want to,” he says with a big smile on his face, his eyes sparkling with mischief as they meet your surprised gaze, mirroring your astonishment with his own excitement.

Your eyes widen with wonder— the thought of becoming a mermaid, a cherished childhood dream, suddenly within reach. “I’d love that,” you breathe, your voice filled with an intoxicating mix of excitement and disbelief, as if daring the universe to make this fantasy a reality.

→ Disclaimer: the banner is obviously partly made with AI— I just want to point that out, to clear the air. I’d normally never use AI in my work, but for this specific fantasy series, I just came up really sort with making them myself with pre existing images of bangtan 😭 Because I want a certain aesthetic (no, a moodboard is not what I was looking for), I decided to use AI to crunch out the merman— I did not, and I repeat this, I did not write any of their names for the prompts, which is also why I do not want to show any faces in these banners, because I know how the guys feel about making AI with them, and I agree. Which is why, this is in short just generically made images that are prompted by a scene in the story. In the end, I still made the banner— did retouching, color grading, added and/or removed stuff, added background etc. Just to let you know. Normally, all my banners and graphics are 100% made by me, unless otherwise stated! (lol, what I mean here is that I’m making them myself, I still use stock photos and vectors made by others in my work sometimes (the banners)).

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kayewrite · 2 months ago

Text

At the same time, I wanna hug you

(...I wanna wrap my hands around your neck)

seungmin x reader!! enemies to lovers troupe!! genre; fluff. word count: 10.7k (long but still not enough)

summary; if you have teleportation powers you would bring seungmin in the middle of ocean and dump him there. that's how much you hated him. but wait.. why he was suddenly cool?

an: you dont know how much i went crazy seeing seungmin in uniform! like babe! why are my classmate not like him? and.. this was a birthday present cause this man just turn half 50 minus 1!! anyways enjoy reading

Kim Seungmin.

You hated that very name.

You hated his existence.

You hated his smirk.

You hated that he breathes.

You hated how he never failed to make your blood boil.

Like now.

You were practically crawling into the classroom, late again, knowing full well the teacher wasn’t going to let it slide this time. Slowly and quietly, you slipped through the back door, hoping to go unnoticed, but your hopes were dashed when Kim Seungmin turned in his seat and caught your eye. His face slowly morphed into that all-too-familiar smirk.

You already knew your fate.

"Ma'am, someone’s late again."

You clenched your fists, resisting the urge to punch him as the teacher ordered you to stand and endure a scolding. You stood there, bowing your head like a guilty child while Seungmin chuckled at your misery.

You hated him. You hated him so much you wished for teleportation powers—just so you could dump him in the middle of the Pacific Ocean and teleport back home.

The worst part? You were seatmates. In the one subject that made you contemplate dropping the class every week just to escape him. But no, you wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. You’d endure, just so he wouldn’t win.

"Why were you late again?" he leaned over, asking in the most casual, condescending way possible.

“None of your business,” you rolled your eyes and shifted your chair further away from him.

“Actually, it is my business.” He smirked again, lifting the attendance sheet. “I’m in charge of marking who’s here today, and guess what? I don’t see your name yet. Got a good excuse for me?”

Damn.

You glared at him, wishing your stare could send him straight to the hospital. “I hate you.”

“Oh, I love you too,” he teased, laughing at your frustration.

You were minding your own business, erasing the board, when out of nowhere, a crumpled piece of paper hit you square on the head. Annoyed, you turned sharply, searching for the culprit. Your eyes quickly landed on Kim Seungmin, who very obviously averted his gaze and started whistling—like that wasn’t the biggest giveaway ever.

Glaring at him, you felt your temper rise. Without thinking twice, you grabbed the nearest weapon of choice—the chalkboard eraser—and hurled it with full force.

"Hey—!" Seungmin barely had time to react, his hands flying up to shield himself. The eraser still hit him, sending a cloud of chalk dust everywhere.

Minutes later, there he was, sitting in the clinic, sulking like he’d been gravely injured. You stood over him, arms crossed, rolling your eyes at the ridiculous situation.

“You’re such a kid,” you teased, watching as he winced dramatically. “Crying over a tiny little scratch.”

He glared at you, clutching his arm like he’d survived a battle. “Tiny? You nearly broke my arm!”

You smirked, “If I wanted to break your arm, Seungmin, I wouldn’t have used an eraser.”

You and Seungmin fought like kids, constantly bickering and annoying each other to the point where even your classmates didn’t bother stepping in anymore. They’d seen you two nearly throw punches at each other too many times to care.

One day in the cafeteria, you were finally enjoying a moment of peace, savoring your lunch, when Seungmin suddenly plopped down in front of you. He smiled, but there was something odd about it. Well, Seungmin was always odd, but this felt extra weird. He wasn’t even touching his food; he just sat there, staring at you.

"What are you looking at, ugly?" you asked, scowling.

He leaned back casually. "My friends are coming, and we're sitting at this table. It’s up to you if you wanna leave or not."

You blinked, taken aback. "What?! I got here first!"

"Yeah, well," he shrugged nonchalantly, "I don’t care."

Before you could argue further, the cafeteria exploded with noise. His friends had arrived—there was no mistaking it. They were loud, famous, and had an almost cult-like following at school. You could practically hear the high-pitched squeals from the “fandom” as they entered. Without even turning around, you knew it was them.

Your frustration mounted as they surrounded the table, chattering loudly. You weren’t exactly fond of crowds, for that matter. Sitting there, sandwiched between Seungmin and his friends, you felt like a deer caught in headlights.

Hyunjin—yes, that Hyunjin—suddenly leaned over, flashing a bright smile. "Hey, what’s your name?"

You nearly choked on your food. Of course, the universe had to pick this moment to be cruel. Before you could respond, Seungmin cut in with a smug grin.

"She’s no one. Don’t mind her," he said, not even sparing you a glance.

Your face flushed with embarrassment and annoyance. You stood up abruptly, knocking over your chair. "I’ve suddenly lost my appetite," you muttered awkwardly before storming off, desperately trying to escape the humiliation.

Why does this always happen to me? you groaned internally. I hate Seungmin. And I hate myself for embarrassing myself in front of my crush… Hyunjin.

If I see that KIM SEUNGMIN later, I’m going to kill him.

Later in class, your chance for revenge came. Seungmin was called on for an oral recitation, and—poetic justice—he stood there, stuttering and completely clueless. You couldn’t help but laugh under your breath as he floundered, finally getting a taste of the embarrassment he loved dishing out.

Justice had never tasted so sweet.

---

"I hope lightning strikes him," you muttered, glaring at Seungmin from a distance as you hugged yourself, shivering from the cold. You were stuck in a waiting shed, the afternoon bringing with it a torrential downpour that looked like the start of a typhoon. The weather had been perfect this morning—sunny, with not a cloud in sight. You'd made the mistake of leaving your umbrella at home, thinking it would only weigh down your bag. Now, you regretted every bit of that decision.

Across the street, Seungmin stood dry under his big, obnoxiously bright umbrella, almost laughing as he caught sight of you. His smug grin was practically glowing, and as if to rub salt in the wound, he waved at you.

You flipped him the finger.

‘When will his time come?’ you wondered bitterly. Why am I always the one who ends up miserable?

The shed's roof was doing a terrible job of keeping the rain out. Water dripped from all angles, splashing around you and soaking your clothes. You glanced up at the leaky ceiling and groaned. When will this stop? you thought—both about the rain and Seungmin.

If the two of you were friends, and if he weren’t the spawn of Lucifer himself, you might’ve swallowed your pride and asked to share his umbrella. Your house was literally just a block away. But no! You would not—under any circumstances—lower yourself to envy his dry, smug self.

You would never give him the satisfaction. Even if it meant sitting here the whole night, soaked and miserable.

Seungmin started walking toward you, his big umbrella swaying with each step. He stopped in front of you with the most annoyingly sarcastic smile.

"You wanna share?" he asked, eyes twinkling with amusement.

You rolled your eyes. "No thanks."

"You sure? The news said the rain’s stopping… tomorrow."

"Even if it never stops for a whole week, Kim Seungmin, I would never!" you snapped, glaring at him.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying your misery. "You sure? Last chance."

"Yes!" you practically shouted, arms crossed in defiance.

"Okay." He shrugged, stepping back. "One word is enough for me."

And with that, he turned on his heel and continued on his way, leaving you alone in the rain.

"I won’t regret it!" you yelled after him, though your voice sounded far less confident than before.

Ten minutes later, you were drenched and shivering, cursing under your breath. Regret started to creep in. You glanced down the road—completely empty. Not a single taxi in sight.

"Where are all the taxis when I need them?" you groaned, looking up at the dark, stormy sky.

And so, your day ended just as it began: with Seungmin somehow managing to ruin it.

It was Friday, and your first class of the day happened to be the one where your seatmate was none other than him.

Determined not to be late, you arrived twenty minutes early. The classroom was nearly empty, with only a handful of students scattered around. Feeling groggy, you slumped over your desk, letting the quiet atmosphere lull you into a light nap.

Of course, peace never lasted long when Seungmin was involved.

A sharp knock on your desk pulled you from the brink of sleep. You cracked one eye open to see Seungmin settling into the seat beside you, a smug grin already plastered on his face.

"Oh, you’re early today. Were you looking forward to sitting next to me?" he teased, leaning back comfortably as if he hadn't just ruined your peaceful moment.

"It’s still early, Kim Seungmin," you muttered, closing your eyes again. Not today, you thought. You weren’t going to let him ruin your morning. Not this early.

He glanced at his watch with a chuckle. "Well, it’s 10 a.m., and that’s not exactly early, is it?"

"Seungmin, if you’re bored and looking to annoy someone, talk to my hand." Without even opening your eyes, you lazily raised your hand in his direction, palm out.

Just then, Yuna, who sat in front of you, arrived. She took one look at the two of you, eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Why are you guys always fighting the moment you see each other?"

You opened one eye, giving her a pleading look. "Can you please let him annoy you instead?"

Yuna just laughed. "Oh, Seungmin wouldn’t annoy anyone else but you." She gave you a knowing smile. "He likes you."

Your eyes shot open at her words, and you squinted at Seungmin, who was now smirking as if he knew exactly how to get under your skin. "Yeah, likes to annoy me," you huffed, narrowing your eyes in suspicion.

Seungmin shrugged, leaning in a little closer just to provoke you. "Well, yeah, I like it sooo much," he laughed, clearly amused by your reaction.

Yuna, now used to your bickering, just shrugged and turned her attention to the front of the classroom, leaving you to deal with him.

You let out a sigh, hoping that Seungmin would leave you alone for at least a minute. "Is there any chance you’ll be quiet today?"

He pretended to think for a moment. "Hmm, nope."

You groaned, dropping your head back onto your desk. "Why do you even sit next to me?"

"Fate," he said casually, glancing over as if he hadn’t just said the most ridiculous thing ever.

You shot him a disbelieving look. "What?"

"It’s fate," he repeated with a smirk. "Out of all the seats in this entire classroom, I ended up next to you. Don’t you think that means something?"

"Yeah, it means I’m cursed."

He laughed, the sound annoyingly cheerful, and leaned in closer. "Maybe, or maybe you’re just lucky to have me next to you."

"Lucky isn’t the word I’d use."

Before he could respond, the classroom started filling up, and the teacher finally arrived. You sent a silent prayer of thanks, hoping class would be a break from Seungmin’s endless teasing.

“…you will do this assignment by pairs. To speed things up, partner with your seatmate.”

It was nothing new to be stuck with your enemy, but when you realized that the activity involved a short roleplay drama, you felt a surge of panic. Acting alongside him was nowhere on your bucket list of things to do—if you even had a bucket list.

“Maam, can I exchange my partner?” you raised your hand, desperation evident in your voice.

“Ouch, you hurt my feelings!” Seungmin clutched his chest dramatically, feigning offense.

“What’s wrong with your partner?” the teacher asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sometimes you wondered why everyone seemed to love this annoying dog sitting next to you.

With no choice left, you begrudgingly held the script with a scowl. When would you ever have a peaceful day in class? Why did you have to pretend to be in love with this guy?

“Come on, read your line!” Seungmin demanded, his annoyance bubbling over.

Of all the choices in your teacher's fishbowl, you’d drawn the romantic scene everyone praying not to get. You would have preferred a horror script over this.

“I don’t want to!” you protested, crossing your arms defiantly.

“Well, you have to! It’s your fault for picking it!” he shot back, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“I told you to pick it!” you replied, frustration mounting.

“And then I’d be the one to blame? We don’t have a choice but to do well.” He leaned back, crossing his arms smugly.

“Ugh! I hate you so much!” you exclaimed, slumping back in your seat.

“Well, you have to love me now.” He chuckled, clearly enjoying your misery.

“What did I do in my past life to deserve this?” You groaned, reading the lines again.

“Probably killed someone,” he quipped, shooting you a knowing look.

You glared at him, and he immediately raised his hands in mock surrender, laughing.

“Oh, apologies. Let’s practice! You don’t have a choice; it’s either fail or just accept it.”

“I hate you.”

“I accept it, Juliet.” He grinned, clearly relishing your frustration.

Thankfully, the teacher had given you a week to prepare, which meant you never took practicing seriously after that.

“We’ll practice tomorrow,” Seungmin stated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“I have something to do tomorrow,” you said nonchalantly, hoping to deter him.

“I have things too, but I want good grades, so you have to come.” He started packing his things away.

“Hey, Seungmin!” You both turned at the sound of his friend’s voice. It was Hyunjin, accompanied by Felix and Jisung. You straightened up, suddenly conscious of your appearance.

“Let’s go somewhere!” Jisung draped an arm around Seungmin’s shoulders.

“I have important things to do,” Seungmin replied, and Jisung pouted in response.

“Oh, it was you in the cafeteria the other day,” Hyunjin said, looking right at you. It took you a moment to process that he was talking to you.

“Um…” Your voice faltered. “Yes?”

Hyunjin smiled at you, and you felt your heart race.

“Guys, wait for me outside. You just sneaked into my classroom,” Seungmin laughed, and his friends complied, heading for the door.

You were still catching your breath from the interaction when Seungmin turned back, grinning at you. “So, Hyunjin is your crush?” he asked, his tone teasing.

Oh no! Seungmin had caught on!

“Of course, I’m not!” you blurted out, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Why are you saying ‘I’m not’ in such an awkward way?” He laughed, clearly enjoying this new revelation. “Then it is true!”

“Please don’t tell him!” You pleaded, realizing you were losing this battle.

“Of course I won’t…” He smiled coyly, “…I won’t do what you ask.” Then, with a laugh, he tossed his bag over his shoulder and dashed out the door.

“Oh, damn…” You froze in your seat, panic setting in.

“See you at practice tomorrow!” Seungmin waved annoyingly from the doorway, clearly aware that you had no choice but to comply.

As the door swung shut behind him, you sank back into your chair, contemplating your fate. Tomorrow was going to be a nightmare.

You arrived at his house and rang the doorbell repeatedly, knowing he would probably just hear it and take his sweet time.

“You’re late,” he said with a smug smile when he finally opened the gate.

“I’m not,” you insisted, holding your wrist up to show him your watch, the sleek silver face gleaming in the sunlight.

“You’re late by 58 seconds,” he replied, crossing his arms as if he were judging your punctuality.

“What?! It’s not my fault you opened your gate late!” You rolled your eyes, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

He chuckled at your annoyed expression, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “Come in.”

“Not like I have a choice,” you muttered, stepping inside.

It was your first time in his house, and you weren’t surprised by how nice it was. The exterior was already immaculate, and the inside was just as polished—walls adorned with family photos and art that hinted at a cozy atmosphere. But you would never admit that to him.

“My parents aren’t home; they have work,” he said, glancing around the living room as if to check for any potential chaos.

“No one asked,” you shot back, feeling a mix of annoyance and amusement.

“Just wanted to let you know in case you try to kill me; there’s a CCTV camera around,” he said, half-serious.

“Oh, great. Just what I need,” you replied dryly, shaking your head.

He headed to the kitchen, presumably to get something to drink, giving you a moment to explore. You took the chance to glance at the pictures displayed throughout the room. One photo caught your eye—him as a child, beaming with joy as he played in a park.

When he returned, you pointed to the picture near the TV. “Is that you?”

“Obviously,” he said, rolling his eyes, his tone laced with playful sarcasm.

You squinted at the picture, then turned to him, suddenly serious. “I mean… will there ever be a time for us to stop bickering, even just for a bit? I'm trying to start a normal conversation here”

“Will there be?” he countered, sitting beside you with a teasing grin, his body relaxed as he leaned back.

“Yeah, right. Never,” you replied, smirking despite yourself.

He handed you the printed script he’d prepared, the edges slightly crinkled. “Why are we putting so much effort into this? It’s just reading the script, not really acting it out.”

“Because I have a goal grade, unlike you,” he said matter-of-factly, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Have you forgotten I’m an achiever too?” you shot back, crossing your arms defiantly.

When would this bickering ever end?

“Hyunjin is coming,” he announced suddenly, the air in the room shifting.

“No one asked--” You paused, then asked, “Wait what?!”

“So you should behave if you don’t want to scare him off,” he added, the grin still plastered on his face.

“Seungmin, why would you do that?!” You lightly slapped him on the shoulder, half-exasperated, half-amused.

“Because… I can?” He laughed, shielding himself playfully. “I mean, what’s wrong with inviting a friend? He's good at acting he can help”

“I hate you so much,” you groaned, exasperation creeping into your tone.

Hyunjin had been your crush for as long as you could remember, and the thought of him being in the same space as you made your stomach flutter with nerves. He was perfect in every way—charismatic, charming, and completely out of your league.

“Why? What’s wrong?” Seungmin teased, leaning closer with that infuriating grin. “Oh, I forgot—you like him, right?”

You responded by giving him another light shove, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. It was always like this between you two—endless banter, lighthearted teasing, but the presence of Hyunjin added a layer of awkwardness you couldn’t quite shake.

You both settled onto the couch, the printed script between you. Seungmin glanced at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Okay, let’s get this over with. You read Juliet’s lines, and I’ll read Romeo’s,” he said, smirking.

“Fine, but don’t mess it up,” you replied, trying to maintain your composure.

You started reading through the script, your voice steady but laced with a hint of nervousness. “O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night like a rich jewel in an Ethiope’s ear.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes dramatically. “Wow, so poetic. Just make sure you don’t faint from all that romance.”

You shot him a glare. “Shut up, Romeo.”

Just then, the doorbell rang. Your heart raced. Hyunjin was here.

“See? You should behave,” Seungmin teased, nudging your shoulder.

You threw him a playful glare, then he rushed to open the door. There stood Hyunjin, looking effortlessly cool, his smile warm as he greeted you both. “Hey! Ready to practice?”

“Uh, yeah! Come in!” you said, trying to keep your cool but feeling the heat creep into your cheeks.

Seungmin sauntered over, clearly relishing the moment. “Hyunjin! Glad you could join us! We were just getting to the juicy parts.”

You shot him a warning look, hoping he wouldn’t embarrass you. Hyunjin, however, seemed unfazed. “Nice! I can help you both with the romantic scenes if you want.”

You nodded eagerly. “That would be great! I need help with… you know, acting like I’m in love.” You winced at how obvious that sounded.

Hyunjin grinned, moving to sit across from you. “Alright, let’s try a scene. Here’s the famous balcony part. Juliet says, ‘O, for a falconer’s voice to lure this tassel-gentle back again.’”

You felt your heart flutter. “I’ll try,” you said, taking a deep breath. “O, for a falconer’s voice to lure this tassel-gentle back again!”

Hyunjin smiled, then gestured for you to continue. “And then Romeo responds with, ‘I would not for the world they saw thee here.’”

Seungmin picked up the line, and you both began to read, the atmosphere shifting as you focused on the scene. You felt a playful energy in the air, the tension of performing lifting your spirits.

“‘I would not for the world they saw thee here,’” Seungmin said, his voice low and earnest.

You replied, “Then there’s no need to be ashamed,” trying to put as much emotion into it as possible.

Hyunjin clapped after your line. “That was great! You both looked really good together!”

You and Seungmin exchanged a quick look. “No!” you both said in unison.

Hyunjin chuckled, clearly entertained by your synchronized denial. “Really, it’s just acting! But seriously, you guys have good chemistry.”

“Thanks!” you said, feeling a mix of embarrassment and pride.

“Alright, let’s keep practicing!” Hyunjin suggested, eager to dive back into the script.

You focused on the lines, the playful banter keeping the atmosphere light. As you practiced, you couldn’t help but enjoy the moment, the camaraderie making the task feel less like a chore and more like fun.

With Hyunjin guiding you, you felt more confident as you delivered your lines, ready to tackle the performance together.

The days passed in a blur as you and Seungmin practiced again at his house. You settled into a routine, the playful banter punctuating your rehearsals, and surprisingly, you started to enjoy the time spent together.

Finally, the day of the presentation arrived. As you stood in front of the class, you felt a mix of nerves and excitement. When it was your turn to deliver your lines, you poured your heart into the performance, channeling every emotion.

To your surprise, Yuna leaned over after the presentation and whispered, “It wasn’t like you were entering each other’s nerves at all!” Her compliment made you beam with pride.

Seungmin, too, impressed you with his serious demeanor. For once, he seemed genuinely focused, and seeing him so dedicated made you realize how much he cared about doing well. You couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride for both of you.

After the applause died down, your teacher announced, “I’m pleased to inform you all that I have chosen actors for the upcoming school play, and I choose…” She paused dramatically, glancing between you and Seungmin, “…you two!”

A wave of excitement surged through you, quickly followed by a burst of playful competitiveness. “See? You should thank me for picking a role that suits us both,” you teased, nudging him playfully.

Seungmin raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Oh, I’m grateful, alright. I forgot for a moment how you despise your pick. In fact, I’m so happy I’m going to treat you to cake and coffee.”

“Yes!” you replied enthusiastically, unable to hide your grin. “I deserve a treat after all that hard work!”

“Sure, but only because I can’t let my scene partner go hungry,” he said, winking.

As you both headed out, the bickering continued, light-hearted and familiar, but beneath it was a shared joy that made the moment all the more special. You couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this experience was bringing you closer, even if you would never admit it.

At the café, the atmosphere buzzed with chatter and the rich aroma of coffee. You and Seungmin settled into a cozy corner, the tension from earlier melted away as you both began to chat more easily.

“So, do you actually love acting?” he asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Absolutely!” you replied, a grin spreading across your face. “I’ve always idolized Emma Watson. I mean, come on, I look just like her!” You struck a dramatic pose, fluttering your eyelashes.

Seungmin looked at you, clearly unconvinced, with a “Are you kidding me?” expression. You burst out laughing, the sound ringing through the café.

“Okay, maybe not exactly like her,” you admitted, trying to catch your breath. “But a girl can dream, right?”

“Sure, if dreaming means torturing the rest of us,” he shot back with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes. “Anyway, I’m planning to major in acting when I get to college. It’s my dream!”

“Nice! I like acting too, but I’m thinking about majoring in music,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

“Wait, you? You know how to sing?” You raised an eyebrow, unable to hide your skepticism.

“Wanna hear?” he challenged, a playful glint in his eye.

“Please no!” you teased, dramatically placing your hand on your heart. “I’d rather sleep forever than listen to your singing.”

Seungmin laughed, shaking his head. “You’re so mean! I think it would be the opposite”

“Mean? I’m just saving you from embarrassment,” you shot back with a grin. “You should thank me!”

"you'll regret what you're saying when I become famous."

As you exchanged playful banter, you realized that this was your way of connecting. The teasing and light insults had become second nature, and somehow, the hurtful words didn’t sting anymore. Instead, they felt like an essential part of your friendship, a comfortable rhythm that made you both laugh.

“Seriously though,” you said, softening a bit, “I think it’s awesome that you’re into music. We’ll be the dynamic duo of arts!”

“Absolutely! Just don’t expect me to duet with you anytime soon,” he joked, raising his cup in a mock toast.

“Deal!” you laughed, feeling lighter than you had in a long time.

As the practice for the play approached, your schedule became packed, leaving little time for anything else. Excitement bubbled inside you, especially since Hyunjin, a year ahead of you, was also in the cast. You could hardly wait for the next rehearsal.

One day, while waiting for practice to start, you found yourself lost in thought, staring at Hyunjin as he chatted with some friends. Seungmin, ever the observant one, caught you in the act.

“You look like a lovesick puppy,” he teased, a playful grin stretching across his face.

You quickly snapped out of your daydream, narrowing your eyes at him. “Shut up! I’m not!” You playfully punched his arm, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make your point.

“Uh-huh, sure,” he laughed, clearly enjoying your reaction.

“You’re just jealous that I’m not staring at you like that!”

As partners playing lovers in the play, you often imagined being paired with Hyunjin. But the teacher had chosen Seungmin, and surprisingly, it wasn’t as bad as you expected. You’d gotten used to the banter, and the awkwardness faded as practice continued.

Days passed, filled with rehearsals that drew you closer to Seungmin. The bickering remained, a constant source of amusement.

During one practice, while the two of you were warming up, Seungmin leaned over to Hyunjin, a mischievous smile on his face. “Hyunjin, have you already eaten? This monkey here asks,” he said, pointing at you as if you were some sort of pet.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help but laugh. “I am! Thank you for asking!” you replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Yeah, and she also said you were handsome,” Seungmin added, clearly enjoying the moment.

You felt your cheeks flush, and in a mock fit of outrage, you dashed toward him. “Seungmin!” you yelled, but he was quicker. He took off running, his laughter echoing through the practice room.

When you finally caught up to him, you wrapped your arms around his neck in a playful hug, making him squirm. “You’re such a tormentor!” you laughed, shaking him lightly.

From across the room, Hyunjin watched the whole scene unfold, a smile playing on his lips. “Are you sure they hate each other?” asked the director, who was shaking his head in disbelief.

Hyunjin just nodded, clearly entertained. “Definitely yes!” he replied, chuckling at your playful dynamic.

As you and Seungmin continued to tease each other, you realized that despite the playful bickering, there was an undeniable comfort between you—something that made every rehearsal just a little bit brighter.

---

The rain poured down in relentless sheets, and there you were, standing under a shed, glaring at the gray sky as if it were personally responsible for your soaked shoes. You had forgotten your umbrella—again.

As you waited, shivering slightly from the cold, you spotted Seungmin in the distance, standing confidently under a bright yellow umbrella. He was teasingly waving it over his head, a smirk plastered on his face as he called out, “Looks like someone forgot their umbrella again!”

You rolled your eyes and shot him a finger. “Very funny, Seungmin!”

He sauntered over, his grin widening with each step. "You wanna share?"

You rolled your eyes. "No thanks." you replied, crossing your arms defiantly.

“Okay, then. One word is enough for me.” He turned to leave, an exaggerated pout on his lips.

You hesitated for a moment, watching him walk away. “Wait!” you called out, and he turned back, an annoying smile in his lips. “Fine! We can share!”

Seungmin’s face broke into a triumphant grin as he rushed back to your side, positioning the umbrella over both of you. As you walked together, the atmosphere shifted from frustration to lightheartedness, laughter spilling out between the two of you.

“My shoulder is now wet,” Seungmin complained, feigning annoyance as he brushed water off his shirt.

“Is it my fault that you work out so much? Your shoulders are just too broad!” you shot back, unable to suppress a grin.

“Did you just compliment me?” he asked, his eyes lighting up with mischief.

“Ugh, it wasn’t a compliment!” you retorted, trying to keep a straight face.

“Then I’ll just have to embrace this wetness!” he said cheerfully, adjusting the umbrella with exaggerated flair. Before you knew it, he leaned closer, and water dripped off his shoulder, splashing onto you.

You burst into laughter, shoving him playfully. “You idiot!”

Seungmin laughed too, chasing after you as you dashed away, your heart racing with excitement. The rain seemed to fade into the background, the only sound being your giggles and the splatter of water against the pavement.

“You’re going to pay for that!” he yelled, laughter echoing through the downpour.

Just as you turned to look back, he splashed a wave of water right at you, soaking you completely. You retaliated, grabbing a handful of rainwater and splashing it back at him.

The playful battle raged on, and soon both of you were drenched, shivering yet exhilarated.

---

It was two weeks before the big play, and you were laser-focused on perfecting every detail. The pressure was on, and you found yourself spending more time practicing than ever. You wanted everything to be perfect, especially with the role you were playing. Seungmin, of course, was your partner in most scenes, so you had to rehearse together.

But as you delivered your lines, standing face-to-face with Seungmin, it became harder and harder to stay serious. Seungmin kept pulling funny faces behind his lines, causing you to break character and burst into laughter.

“Direct, please, punch him or something!” you whined dramatically, throwing your hands up. “He won’t stop!”

The director, seeing your exaggerated reaction, just chuckled. Meanwhile, the rest of the cast erupted in laughter.

"I’m serious now! I promise!" Seungmin said, shrugging off his antics.

You tried to continue, but the minute you looked at his serious face, you couldn’t hold back your laughter again. His deadpan expression was just too much.

“Okay, okay,” you said, wiping away a tear from laughing too hard. “Let’s take five. I need to compose myself.”

You sat down in the corner, still laughing. Seungmin joined you, shaking his head with a grin.

“Why are you always like this?” you asked, playfully slapping his arm. “We’re supposed to be professional!”

“Hey! I’m doing great! You’re the one laughing!” he protested with a smirk.

You couldn't deny it—something had shifted between you and Seungmin lately. There was this playful, easygoing dynamic now, and to your surprise, you liked it. You weren’t exactly sure when it happened, but the tension between the two of you had somehow dissolved, leaving behind a strange sort of camaraderie. And it felt... right.

---

Late again. You were quietly crawling your way toward your seat, praying that Seungmin wouldn’t notice. Maybe, just maybe, he’d be too preoccupied to see you sneaking in. But no such luck. Just as you thought you were in the clear, you saw Seungmin glancing in your direction, that infamous smirk already forming on his face. You knew that look all too well—he was up to something.

Desperate, you shot him a pleading look, mouthing a dramatic “Nooo,” and shaking your head in an exaggerated fashion. But the smirk only widened as he raised his hand.

“Ma'am!”

You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the inevitable scolding. This is it, you thought. I’m done.

But instead, Seungmin’s voice rang out casually, “I forgot to give you the assignments I collected from the class.”

Your eyes flew open in shock. What?

“Oh right! Thank you, Seungmin, for the reminder.” The teacher smiled at him, clearly appreciating the help.

Seungmin stood up, cool as ever, handing over the pile of papers. He sat back down, a faint smirk still on his lips as if nothing unusual had happened.

You slid into your seat cautiously, your heart still racing. You glanced over at Seungmin, who met your gaze with a quick wink before turning back to his notebook. That was... new, you thought, utterly confused.

Practice resumed as usual, and you started to get into the flow of things. You liked rehearsing for the play more than you thought you would, especially with the creative freedom you were given. The only downside? Seungmin never missed an opportunity to get under your skin.

As you entered the practice room, sporting your freshly cut hair, Seungmin immediately took notice.

He eyed you up and down, a teasing grin already forming on his lips. “You know,” he began, casually leaning back in his chair, “short hair doesn’t really suit you.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing exactly where this was headed. “What are you talking about? I look pretty in it,” you shot back confidently, placing your hands on your hips.

Seungmin raised an eyebrow, the playful grin still firmly in place. “Pretty? More like you look like a monkey who tried to give itself a haircut.”

“Excuse me?” You gasped, pretending to be scandalized. “I do not look like a monkey.”

“Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night,” Seungmin shrugged, clearly enjoying how flustered you were getting. He leaned closer, dropping his voice dramatically. “But just so you know, if we ever put you in a zoo, you’d fit right in.”

You gasped again, this time more dramatically, then pointed at him with a mock serious expression. “You’re just jealous because I’m out here looking cute and you can’t handle it.”

“Cute?” Seungmin laughed, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“Whatever, I know the truth. You’re just afraid to admit that I’m rocking this look,” you teased back, refusing to back down.

“Yeah, yeah. Keep dreaming, monkey,” he said, chuckling softly as you narrowed your eyes at him.

Another day in class, you were erasing the board when something hit the back of your head. Startled, you spun around, spotting Seungmin sitting there, whistling innocently. It was the most obvious thing ever—he didn’t even try to hide it.

You glared at him, trying to keep your cool. ‘Let it go’, you thought. ‘Don’t give him the satisfaction’. But then, another paper ball hit you.

"Seriously?" you muttered under your breath, turning to give him a sharp look.

This time, Seungmin didn’t bother pretending. He smiled and pointed to the paper ball on the floor. “Read it,” he said, nodding toward the crumpled note.

You raised your hand, ready to throw the eraser at him with full force.

“Wait!” Seungmin said quickly, holding up his hands in surrender. “Just read it, will you?”

With a dramatic sigh, you picked up the paper, unfolding it. Written in his messy handwriting were the words: “Let’s eat. My treat.”

Before you could react, Jisung, who had been quietly observing the whole scene, burst into laughter. “What kind of lame drama am I witnessing?” he cackled.

You whipped around and threw the eraser at him instead, hitting him square in the shoulder. “Mind your own business, Jisung!”

“Hey! I’m just saying!” Jisung grinned, clearly enjoying the chaos.

Later that afternoon, you and Seungmin found yourselves at a seafood restaurant. Well, it was supposed to be Seungmin’s treat, but somehow the two of you ended up bickering over who would pay. Cause you wanna pay too.

“Let’s settle this the mature way—rock, paper, scissors,” Seungmin proposed, holding out his fist.

“Fine,” you agreed, thinking you had a good chance.

You both threw out your hands, and you won.

“Yes!” you exclaimed, triumph coursing through you for about five seconds. But then Seungmin began to order.

He grinned, shaking his head. “You’re gonna regret that.”

You frowned, confusion creeping in as the waiter approached. Seungmin rattled off an absurd number of dishes—enough to feed an entire village.

“Seungmin,” you hissed, eyes wide in disbelief, “do you really need to order enough food for 30 people?”

Seungmin leaned back in his chair, completely unfazed. “You said it was your treat. I’m just taking full advantage.”

You pouted, crossing your arms defiantly. “This isn’t fair. You’re evil.”

“Evil? No way,” he laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I prefer the term ‘strategically gifted.’”

As the waiter left with the long list of orders, you grumbled, “You should’ve thought about that before challenging me.”

In the end, Seungmin ended up paying for most of it, but you insisted on contributing, stubbornly pushing a few bills his way. He didn’t argue too much, shaking his head with an amused smile. “You’re relentless, aren’t you?”

“Of course! If I’m going to be broke, I might as well be happy about it,” you retorted, a grin spreading across your face.

Seungmin laughed, clearly entertained by your determination. “Fair enough. Next time, I’ll just let you win without a fight.”

“Deal! But only if you promise not to order enough food for a small army,” you teased, raising your glass in a mock toast.

“Challenge accepted,” he replied, clinking his glass against yours, both of you laughing at the absurdity of it all.

Another rehearsal, and you were sitting on the sidelines, legs crossed as you watched your classmates perform. You had just finished your scene and were still buzzing from the energy of it all. The lights cast a warm glow on the stage, and you found yourself quietly admiring the atmosphere, the stars of the production shining brightly in your eyes.

Suddenly, the director's voice broke through your thoughts. “Seungmin, can you step in as the main character for a bit? Our lead’s absent today.”

“Sure,” Seungmin replied, standing up with an easy confidence. He made his way to the center of the stage, and you prepared for him to be awkward or hesitant. Instead, he surprised you.

As he took his place, he transformed. His movements were smooth and assured, his voice resonating with sincerity. You couldn’t help but lean forward, captivated. He moved across the stage effortlessly, delivering his lines with an authenticity that made you forget you were watching your friend.

Wow, he was really talented.

You shook your head slightly, trying to push the thought away. No way could you think Seungmin was handsome. That was just absurd.

Then came a scene where he had to hug the female lead. As he pulled her into a gentle embrace, your heart gave a small, inexplicable flutter. The warmth of his presence seemed to radiate even from where you sat, and you felt an unfamiliar tightening in your stomach.

You tried to shrug it off, focusing on the performance, but the feeling lingered, swirling with an odd mix of admiration and something else entirely. Watching him, you realized you were seeing a different side of Seungmin—one that was undeniably charismatic and captivating.

The rehearsal continued, but you found it harder to concentrate, your thoughts drifting back to the way he had held her, how effortlessly he embodied the character. What was happening to you? You glanced away, trying to regain your composure, but the strange flutter remained, echoing in your mind long after the scene ended.

You were still lost in thought about the rehearsal when Hyunjin sat down beside you. “You look really pretty with your hair like that,” he commented with a smile.

You blushed at the compliment, glancing down. “Thanks! Seungmin said it doesn’t suit me.”

Hyunjin chuckled softly. “Seungmin? He’s just teasing you. That’s his way of telling you he likes it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You think?”

“Definitely,” Hyunjin replied with a smirk. “He wouldn’t bother teasing you if he didn’t like it.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “He always tease me.”

Hyunjin leaned back, still smiling. “How did you two meet, anyway?”

“We’re neighbors,” you explained. “Since elementary school. We were always competing—who could get the best grades, who could finish their homework first. It’s been like that forever.”

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow. “Do you hate him?”

You laughed, thinking for a moment. “If I could push him off a cliff, I probably would.”

Hyunjin grinned. “Would you really, though?”

You hesitated, suddenly unsure. “...yes,” you admitted, half-joking.

Hyunjin chuckled, clearly sensing something. “Well, I hope I don’t hear about you two pushing each other off cliffs anytime soon.”

You shrugged with a playful smile. “No promises.”

Later, you were eating peacefully in the cafeteria, minding your own business, when Seungmin plopped his tray down across from you. He sat down without a word, digging into his food.

You raised an eyebrow, already knowing what was coming. “Let me guess... your friends are coming?”

Seungmin glanced at you lazily, a piece of bread halfway to his mouth. “No, they don’t wanna see you.”

You pouted, pretending to be offended. “I miss Hyunjin.”

“Then ask him out,” Seungmin replied lazily, taking a bite of his bread.

You paused mid-bite, your eyes narrowing as you stared at him. “You think I have a chance with him?”

Seungmin smirked, shaking his head. “No, he hates monkeys like you who throw erasers at people.”

You gasped, glaring at him. “I do not look like a monkey!”

“Sure, whatever helps you,” Seungmin teased, his grin widening. “And for the record, Hyunjin’s probably just being nice.”

You frowned, “He said I was pretty with my new haircut.”

Seungmin scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “Do you know how much he lies? He probably tells that to everyone.”

You didn’t bother arguing. Instead, you decided to change tactics. “Help me get him to go out with me, then.”

Seungmin snorted. “Do it on your own. You’re big enough for that.”

You groaned dramatically, leaning across the table toward him. “If you help me, I’ll buy you something. Anything you want.”

Seungmin looked at you, considering it for a moment before shrugging. “Buy me a house."

You rolled your eyes, giving him a deadpan stare. “Never mind. I’ll do it myself.”

He smirked, clearly enjoying how easily you gave up. “Good luck, Juliet.”

It was Friday again, and somehow, you found yourself seated next to Seungmin—again. This time, however, you arrived early, a full thirty minutes ahead of your usual time. Feeling tired, you laid your head on the desk, hoping to catch a quick nap.

Just as you were dozing off, you felt a sharp knock on the desk, startling you awake. You looked up to see Seungmin grinning down at you, clearly enjoying your misery.

“Missing me that much, huh?” he teased. “You’re thirty minutes earlier than usual.”

You groaned, rubbing your eyes. “We basically see each other every day. I’m already sick of it,” you replied with a shrug.

Seungmin chuckled, settling into his seat beside you. “You’ll survive. Anyway, I need to copy your assignment.”

You blinked, sitting up straight. “We had an assignment?”

“Seriously?” Seungmin raised an eyebrow, holding back a laugh. He reached into his bag and pulled out his own paper, handing it to you. “Here, just copy mine before Ma’am shows up.”

You took the paper from him, still confused. “Wait, I thought you said you didn’t do the assignment either?”

“I forgot that I had,” Seungmin said casually, smirking. “Now hurry up before it’s too late.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed your pen and started copying the assignment, scribbling quickly while glancing at the door every few seconds to make sure the teacher wasn’t close. As you worked, you couldn’t help but notice the shift between you and Seungmin. There was a time when you would’ve refused to help him—or worse, argued with him endlessly. But now? It felt... different. There was a weird sense of comfort in these small moments.

"What now? does our fighting over who finish assignments first done?" you laugh,

"Then give me back my paper. I've changed my mind."

You didn’t hate it. In fact, you kind of liked it.

Seungmin was sipping on his water bottle backstage when Hyunjin approached him, all casual as ever.

“Seungmin,” Hyunjin started, leaning against the wall beside him. “Do you like her?”

Seungmin paused mid-sip, glancing sideways at Hyunjin with a raised brow. “What are you talking about?”

Hyunjin gave him a knowing look. “I’ve known you for years, dude. I know when you like someone.”

Seungmin snorted, trying to brush it off. “Why would that matter to you?”

“Well,” Hyunjin said with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “if I asked her out, would you get mad?”

Seungmin’s eyes widened slightly before he quickly masked it, his expression turning nonchalant. “Why would I care?”

Hyunjin tilted his head, smirking as if testing Seungmin’s reaction. “Really?”

Seungmin waved his hand dismissively, though his jaw tightened slightly. “What am I, a matchmaker for you two? Why are you even asking for my opinion? I don’t care.”

Hyunjin chuckled and slung an arm around Seungmin’s shoulders. “Thanks, bro. That’s all I needed to know.”

As Hyunjin walked away, Seungmin clenched his water bottle a little too tightly. He wasn’t sure what irritated him more—the fact that Hyunjin seemed interested in you, or the fact that you two were making him feel like some kind of third wheel. Whatever it was, it was starting to get under his skin.

Seungmin was making his way back to the classroom, balancing a small box of milk he’d grabbed for you from the cafeteria. He'd overheard you mention wanting one earlier, so without a second thought, he picked one up, hoping to surprise you.

As he neared the classroom door, he paused when he heard your voice. You were deep in conversation with one of your friends, and for some reason, curiosity got the better of him. He stood just outside, hidden by the doorframe, listening.

"Why do you hate Seungmin so much, anyway?" your friend asked.

Seungmin’s ears perked up at the question, his grip tightening around the milk carton. He wasn’t sure why he was still standing there, but he couldn’t move. He just waited.

You sighed before answering, "He's so annoying. Always teasing me, always acting like he’s better than me. He’s infuriating."

Each word hit him harder than he expected, like tiny jabs that made his heart sink deeper and deeper. He already knows this what you felt for him but he doesn't know why it still hurts. He could feel his chest tighten, his breath coming out a little shallower as he stayed rooted to the spot.

But then you added something else, something he missed. A quieter tone followed the harshness of your earlier words. It was softer, almost like you were reflecting on something.

"Lately though... I don’t know. I guess I’ve started to see that maybe he’s not that bad."

But Seungmin didn’t hear those words. He had already turned away, stepping back before he could catch the change in your tone. His heart, now heavier, urged him to walk in the opposite direction, so that’s exactly what he did. The milk, once meant to be a small gesture of kindness, now felt pointless in his hand.

PE class rolled around, and with no rehearsal scheduled, you entered the gym, spotting Seungmin as usual. You both ended up being partners again—something that had become routine at this point. There were no protests, no over-the-top objections. Just quiet acceptance.

The first activity was jogging, but you immediately noticed something was off. Normally, Seungmin would be teasing you the whole time, making snarky comments about how slow you were. But today, he was silent.

"One minute," you said, reading his time on the stopwatch. Normally, this would prompt a laugh from him, followed by some sarcastic remark about how you'd be the first one caught in a zombie apocalypse.

But today, he just nodded and moved on to the next activity without a word. Weird.

The next exercise was push-ups. You barely managed four before collapsing, groaning in exhaustion. Seungmin, on the other hand, breezed through twenty without breaking a sweat. You tried to compliment him in a lowkey way, but he didn’t react—just kept going like a machine.

What is up with him?

Then came the sit-ups. You held down Seungmin’s toes, though it didn’t seem like he needed any help. His form was perfect, and he didn’t even look your way. The proximity of the exercise made you search for his eyes, but every time you tried to make eye contact, he avoided looking at you.

When it was your turn, you felt exhausted by your fifth sit-up, and Seungmin held your toes firmly in place. This time, he watched you more intently, though you couldn’t see him since you were focusing on the exercise. Only when you glanced up did he quickly avert his gaze.

After class, you caught him trying to leave and stopped him in his tracks.

“Seungmin, what’s going on with you?” you asked, planting yourself in front of him.

He gave you a blank look. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re acting... weirdly weird today. Did something happen?”

Seungmin sighed, clearly not in the mood for a conversation. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said flatly, brushing past you.

You caught his arm before he could fully walk away. “Hey, you can talk to me. If something’s wrong, just tell me.”

He paused, looking at you for a moment with an unreadable expression before saying coldly, “Why would I? We’re not friends.”

The words hit you harder than you expected. You froze, watching as he walked away, feeling a strange pang in your chest.

Later, you sat next to Hyunjin, watching Seungmin perform his scenes on stage. He still ignored you, going through the motions of his role flawlessly, but there was no denying the distance between you now. The way he looked past you, as if you weren’t there, made you feel... sad.

“What’s up with him?” you muttered to Hyunjin. “He’s been acting strange all day.”

Hyunjin smirked. “He’s probably mad about what I told him.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What did you tell him?”

Hyunjin chuckled softly, leaning closer. “I told him I like you. And that I was going to ask you out.”

You blinked in surprise, staring at him. “Wait... what?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Why else would he be jealous?”

“Jealous?” you repeated, confused. “Why would he be jealous?”

Hyunjin let out a soft laugh. “I don’t know if you and Seungmin are both idiots, or if you’re just blind.”

“Ouch,” you said, feigning offense, though your mind was spinning. Jealous? Seungmin?

Hyunjin’s laugh faded into a small smile, and after a moment of silence, he sighed. “Wow, my confession really flew under the radar, huh?”

You looked at him, feeling a little guilty. Oh... right. His confession.

You smiled awkwardly. “Wait, was it serious? Or were you just joking?”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes. “You think I’m a joker like that puppy?” He nodded toward Seungmin, who was still on stage.

Normally, this would be the moment where you’d blush, stammer, and lose your mind. But something didn’t feel right. There was something nagging at you, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“I...”

Before you could respond, Hyunjin raised a hand, cutting you off. “Actually, you know what? Don’t answer me yet. I’ll wait until after the play presentation.”

He smiled, and you smiled back, though it felt forced.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’m just getting my water bottle,” Seungmin’s voice broke the moment as he stepped between you two, grabbing his bottle.

You opened your mouth to say something, but he was gone before you could. You stared after him, feeling more confused than ever.

In the past, this type of bickering was normal between you two. You had always gotten on each other's nerves, and usually, you'd be happy to ignore him, savoring the peace and quiet. But this time felt different. Why were you so affected by his silence? Why did it feel like a hollow pit had formed in your chest, waiting for him to fill it? You hated him, didn’t you? You used to hate him—right? But now, all you felt was a growing sense of confusion and frustration, like you were waiting for something that never came.

Seungmin had been avoiding you for three days now, and at first, you brushed it off, assuming he had something on his mind. But as time went on, the weight of his silence pressed harder. It wasn’t just affecting the play—it was affecting you. His avoidance felt more personal than it ever had before, and it gnawed at you until you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

"Seungmin, let's talk." You caught up to him backstage, your voice firmer than usual, trying to mask the vulnerability you were starting to feel.

"Why?" he responded coldly, not even looking in your direction.

You blinked, taken aback by the sharpness of his tone. "What do you mean, 'why'? We obviously need to talk about something."

"I don't want to," he replied like a stubborn child, folding his arms defensively.

You groaned, frustration bubbling inside you. "Stop giving me that bratty attitude, Seungmin. Let's just talk, okay?" Without thinking, you grabbed his wrist, dragging him toward the exit door for privacy.

Once you were both outside, you turned to face him, still gripping his wrist. "Are you angry at me?" you asked softly, though the edge of desperation in your voice betrayed you.

Seungmin pulled his hand away from your grasp, shrugging. "We're normally angry at each other," he muttered, staring at the ground as if avoiding your gaze would shield him from the conversation.

You furrowed your brows, trying to make sense of what he was saying. "Seungmin, we both know something has changed between us. We’re… sort of friends now, right? Why are you acting like this?"

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "Why? This is normal. We’ve always been like this. Why are you suddenly acting like something's different?"

Your chest tightened, and you swallowed hard. "So I’m still just an enemy to you?" The words slipped out, raw and vulnerable, and you hated yourself for how much it hurt. You could feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back quickly. "Because for me—" Your voice wavered, but you forced yourself to continue. "For me, things changed. I’ll be honest with you. I hated you so much before, Seungmin. I mean, if I could’ve thrown you into the fire pit, I would’ve done it in a heartbeat." You laughed bitterly, trying to lighten the mood, but your heart ached as you realized the truth. "But now, I see you as a friend."

Seungmin's breath hitched at your confession, and for a moment, his walls seemed to crack. But then his jaw clenched, and he shook his head. "No."

You stared at him, bewildered. "No? What do you mean 'no'?"

His voice was strained, like he was forcing the words out. "Why are you doing this to me? Why can’t you just focus on Hyunjin and pretend like I’m not even here?"

"Why would I do that?" you asked, confusion lacing your words.

Seungmin's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing in frustration. "Because you like him," he bit out. "You like Hyunjin, and you’ve hated me since the day we met."

You stepped closer, lowering your voice, "Seungmin… I told you. We're past that stage of hating each other."

His laugh was hollow, bitter. "You’ve hated me since we were kids. Do you have any idea how much that hurt? But you know what? I preferred it that way. I’d rather you keep hating me than whatever this is."

You were silent for a moment, letting his words sink in. It hit you hard—the realization that Seungmin had always been more affected by your feelings than you’d thought. And now, he was clinging to the past because it was easier to accept your hatred than deal with the uncertainty of whatever you were becoming now.

"But I don't hate you anymore," you said softly, your voice gentle but firm.

His gaze flickered up to meet yours for the briefest second before he looked away again, a storm of emotions brewing behind his eyes. His fists clenched at his sides, and for a moment, you thought he might say something, but instead, he shook his head, taking a deep breath.

"Then what do you feel now?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

It was a question you hadn’t fully answered yourself. What did you feel? What had changed between you two? The hate had faded long ago, replaced by something warmer, something deeper. But how could you put it into words when you weren’t sure what those feelings even were?

"I don’t know," you admitted, your voice trembling. "But I know I don’t want to keep ignoring it. I don’t want to keep pretending like we’re still stuck in the past. I care about you, Seungmin, and I—"

He cut you off, his voice sharp but shaky, "Stop. Don’t say it. Please."

His plea was laced with fear, and you could see it now—the fear of getting hurt, of being vulnerable. Seungmin had always hidden behind his teasing and sharp words, but now, as he stood before you, walls crumbling, you realized just how much he had been protecting himself all along.

"Seungmin..." You took a step closer, your hand hesitating before reaching out to touch his arm. "You don’t have to push me away."

He closed his eyes, his shoulders tense, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away again. But then, he sighed, the weight of his emotions too heavy to bear alone anymore. "You don’t get it," he whispered, his voice raw. "I’m scared. Scared that if you don’t hate me, you’ll realize… I’ve liked you for so long, and I don’t know how to handle that."

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession. The tension, the unspoken words, all of it finally made sense. You felt your chest tighten as you processed his words, the vulnerability behind them cutting deep.

Seungmin liked you.

And somehow, deep down, you’d known.

The day of the play had arrived, and for the first time, a tight knot of nerves twisted in your stomach. You'd performed in front of people before, but this time felt different. This time, you weren’t just performing in front of a crowd—you were performing in front of him.

As you paced backstage, waiting for the curtain to rise, you couldn’t help but glance around anxiously, searching for Seungmin. The others were already in place, getting ready for the opening act. But Seungmin… he was nowhere to be seen.

Your heart raced as minutes ticked by. What if he didn’t show up? What if his feelings, the tension between you, had driven him away? You shook your head, trying to focus, but the anxiety clung to you like a second skin.

The stage manager called for the cast to take their places, and you stepped toward the stage, dread settling deep in your chest. The lights dimmed, the curtains rustled, and the play was about to begin. But Seungmin—where was he?

Just as the opening music started and your heart sank, you heard footsteps behind you. You turned and saw him. Seungmin, slightly out of breath, his eyes locking with yours as he walked into place. He gave you a small, reassuring nod, and you felt a rush of relief. He had made it.

You took a deep breath, letting his presence calm you, and when the curtains finally rose, you stepped into your role. The lights blinded you for a second, and the sound of the audience rustled in the background, but none of that mattered. Your focus was on one person.

Seungmin.

You went through your lines, heart pounding in your chest. The audience faded away, and it was just the two of you on stage. But when you looked into Seungmin’s eyes, delivering your lines, it felt too real—like every word you spoke wasn’t part of the play but something deeper.

And then came the moment. The pivotal line.

As you reached the climax of your scene, Seungmin stepped closer, his gaze steady and intense. “I love you,” he said, his voice clear and sincere.

Your breath caught in your throat. The weight of his words, delivered in that moment, felt electric. It wasn’t just a line; it was a declaration that cut through the scripted lines and went straight to your heart.

Tears pricked at your eyes, threatening to spill over. You weren’t supposed to cry here—not in this scene—but it was impossible to hold back the emotion. The intensity of the moment, standing before him as he revealed his feelings, overwhelmed you.

Seungmin’s gaze softened, and for a second, the audience faded away. It was just you and him, wrapped in a moment that felt like the truth finally breaking through.

You tried to respond, but the weight of his confession hung in the air, filling the space between you. You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay.

The play continued, but all you could think about was Seungmin’s words. He had spoken them as part of the script, but they felt so real, so genuine. Something shifted in the atmosphere between you two—something undeniable.

As the final act came to a close, and you took your bow, the audience erupted in applause. But even then, your eyes were only on Seungmin, wondering if he felt the same shift in the air between you two. Something had changed. Something profound. And while you weren’t sure where it would lead, for now, you were content just to hold on to the moment, letting it linger as the lights dimmed and the curtains closed.

For now, the stage had played its part, but what came next was something only time would tell.

a reblog, like, and comment is very much appreciated to keep me going. thanks for reading, love!

sorry for being inactive lately and not responding to any of your messages i appreciate you all love you sm!!

part 2 here!

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dollgxtz · 7 days ago

Text

His Watchful Eye Pt.11

Word Count: 24.4k

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, possession, forced pregnancy, unwanted pregnancy, tw if u have tokophobia, broken bones, bloodshed, fighting, manipulation, pet names like, kitten, sweetie, honey, Xavier appears, tw vomiting, nausea, spanking

Taglist: @ngh-ch-choso-ahhhh, @eliasxchocolate, @nozomiaj, @xmiisuki, @sylus-kitten, @its-regretti , @m0onlustre , @ve1vet-cake, @letgobro, @starkeysslvt, @yarafic, @prince-nikko, @leiaglmela @connorsui, @iluvmewwwww75, @biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer, @mysssticc, @babygirl-panda19, @someone-somewheres-stuff, @zaynesjasmine1, @honnylemontea, @altariasu, @the-slytherin-poet, @sorryimakira, @pearlymel, @emidpsandia , @angel-jupiter, @hwangintakswifey, @webmvie, @housesortinghat, @fading-twinkle, @shoruio, @gojos1ut, @solomonlover, @cheesenjam, @elegantnightblaze, @mavphorias, @babylavendersblog, @burntoutfrogacademic, @sinstae, @certainduckanchor, @ladyackermanisdead, @sh4nn, @milkandstarlight, @lilyadora, @depressedwhore, @nyumin, @kiwookse, @anisha24-blog1, @weepingluminarytale

AN: This is on A03! I am SO SO sorry for how long this chapter took. I got super busy with school and Halloween stuff! I hope this long chapter makes up for it. I am Incredibly grateful for all the comments and support you guys leave me, it always warms my heart to see you guys theorizing stuff in the comments and asks! Tysm and enjoy! <33

“Allow me to properly introduce myself this time.” Sylus’s smile was a slow, predatory curl, his words coming out deliberately, each syllable meant to dig beneath Xavier’s skin like shards of glass. “The name's Sylus, as you may know. Head of Onychinus and…” He paused, his gaze locking onto Xavier’s with a smug satisfaction, an unsettling glint of something deeply personal. “The father of the child in your ex-lover’s belly.”

Read Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9 Pt.10

The night sky in the N109 Zone was as dark as always, a dense, inky blackness that seemed to press in from every corner of the room, never letting up, never hinting at dawn. There was no morning light to greet you, only the cold shadows that defined this strange world. You stirred, half-wrapped in the warmth of the blankets, and felt the steady, unfamiliar rhythm of someone’s breathing beneath you.

Slowly, the realization dawned—you were lying against Sylus. How you had come to falling asleep on him, you weren't sure but your head was on his shoulder, his arm draped around you possessively, his breathing soft and even. Fighting the urge to push him away, you shifted slightly, noticing an odd dampness against your cheek. Your mind jolted to full awareness as you realized you had drooled on him in your sleep. A flush of embarrassment crept up your neck, and you went to pull away, but his arm only tightened, holding you closer.

Before you could think of a way to subtly create some distance, you felt him stir. He shifted, his face turning down to look at you, his lips twitching into a gentle, amused smile. He caught sight of the small patch of drool on his shirt, and a soft chuckle escaped him, the sound so warm and gentle that it disarmed you.

“Drooled on me, did you?” he murmured, his voice low, laced with a softness that was almost tender. He didn’t pull back, didn’t seem annoyed or disgusted. Instead, his gaze lingered on you, his eyes holding an unexpected fondness, a warmth that made your heart pound in a way you hadn’t planned on.

You swallowed, resisting the urge to roll your eyes, to snap back at him the way you might have in any other situation. Instead, you managed a shy, embarrassed chuckle, casting your eyes down and willing your blush to fade. It wasn’t part of the act, but somehow it fit.

Follow the plan. Pretend. Play the part.

His hand moved to your cheek, his thumb brushing over the corner of your mouth where a stray trace of drool lingered. He didn’t seem in any rush, his touch featherlight, his eyes focused intently on your lips as if the gesture was intimate and personal.

“There,” he whispered, his voice taking on a softer, almost reverent tone. He continued to brush his thumb over your cheek, his fingers moving slowly, his gaze not leaving yours. “All better.”

Something in his expression made your pulse quicken, a warmth rising in his eyes that was difficult to look away from. His thumb moved along your cheek, brushing down your jawline, and for a brief moment, you thought he might lean in closer. His gaze was so intense, so wrapped up in you that the darkness around him almost softened, making his presence the only real thing in the room.

You had to remember your role, the act you were putting on. The plan. It was the one thing keeping you tethered, reminding you to stay grounded. You met his gaze, let your eyes soften in response, and gave him a small, tentative smile. The expression seemed to thrill him, his hand lingering against your face as though he couldn’t bear to pull away.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it, the words spoken as if he truly cared about the answer.

The question brought a fresh wave of anxiety that you fought to bury. You hadn’t slept well at all. You’d tossed and turned, haunted by nightmares, each one darker than the last. This time, it had been Xavier’s face haunting you, a vision of him twisted in pain as Sylus aimed a gun at him and pulled the trigger without hesitation, without mercy.

Just like Reese.

You shuddered, trying to dispel the image, to push it far from your mind. But Sylus’s eyes were on you, his gaze unwavering, expectant.

“Yeah,” you lied, keeping your voice soft, steady. “I slept fine.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly but seemed pleased with your answer, his lips curving into a warm smile as his thumb traced the edge of your jaw one last time before pulling away. His eyes held a hint of satisfaction as he leaned back, running his fingers through your hair briefly before letting his hand fall away.

“Good,” he murmured. “Your nightmares seemed to be getting worse. I've been worried.”

The words were gentle, genuine, and though every part of you wanted to recoil, to pull away from the kind words, you forced yourself to stay in character. You could feel his fingers brush over your arm as he adjusted the covers around you, his gaze sweeping over you with an intensity that left you breathless.

But the image of Xavier's body, bloodied, limp and losing warmth at your feet lingered, the nightmare vivid, the fear creeping in like an unwelcome guest. Your body shivered involuntarily, and Sylus’s eyes narrowed, his expression shifting from warmth to concern.

“Are you cold?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly as he scanned your face.

You nodded your head, willing your mind to settle, to push aside the lingering panic from the nightmare. “A little,” you admitted, hoping it would satisfy his curiosity without prompting more questions.

He nodded, his hand brushing your arm again as he stood, glancing toward the thermostat on the wall. “I’ll turn up the heat,” he said, giving you one last reassuring look before moving to adjust the temperature. “No reason for my kitten to be cold.”

As he moved across the room, you allowed yourself to exhale, grateful for the momentary solitude.

He straightened, nodding with approval at the warmer setting, then turned back to you with a final, lingering look. “I’ve got some things to take care of this morning. I’ll be back soon.” His eyes traced over you, as if memorizing the way you looked, and with a slight smile, he slipped out of the room, leaving you in a heavy silence.

You watched him leave, letting go of the breath you didn't realize you were holding once he was out of your sight.

The silence settled in again, thick and suffocating, the shadows creeping back in to fill the space he’d left behind. You let yourself sink into the quiet, gathering your thoughts, steadying your mind. The sound of your ankle chain clinking against the bedframe brought you back to the harsh reality you were living in, the weight of it all pressing down on you like an anchor.

Still, the routine was there to keep you grounded. It was the one thing that hadn’t changed, the one thing you had control over. Make the bed, shower, brush your teeth—small rituals that gave you a sense of order, of stability, in the midst of chaos.

You moved with methodical purpose, your footsteps heavy, the chain rattling softly with each step. As the water cascaded over you in the shower, you closed your eyes, letting the warmth soothe your skin, if only for a brief moment. You scrubbed away the residue of the night, of the nightmares, of Sylus’s touch. But the feeling lingered, a shadow that clung to you no matter how hard you tried to shake it.

Dressing quickly, you moved back into the room and glanced at the mirror, lifting the hem of your dress as you examined your stomach in the faint light. It was still flat, still untouched by any sign of life. You let out a soft, shaky breath, feeling an odd mixture of relief and frustration. Seven weeks—of course, it was too early to show anything. But part of you clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, there was nothing in there. That it was all some twisted illusion, a nightmare you would eventually wake from.

But as your fingers brushed over the smooth skin, the cold truth seeped into you like ice. This was real. The nausea, the exhaustion, the subtle signs your body was changing. There was no escaping it, no running from it. You were trapped, bound not just by the chain at your ankle, but by the life growing inside you—a life you hadn’t chosen.

You dropped your dress back into place, feeling a bitter lump rise in your throat as you turned away from the mirror. The reflection, the reminders, the confinement of this life—it was all more than you could bear. But the fight wasn’t over. Not yet.

Follow the plan. Pretend. Play the part.

As you moved back toward the bed, your mind hardened with resolve.

You decided to turn to the dresser, your hands instinctively moving over the various clothes folded inside, each piece carefully arranged. A sea of unfamiliar textures, all expensive, soft fabrics that draped around you like a second skin. Not a single item from your past life was here; they were all gifts from Sylus, carefully chosen and arranged as if each outfit could somehow rewrite your story.

As you methodically folded and rearranged each garment, you began to chant silently to yourself. You’re not a captive. You’re not a victim. You’re his fiancée. The words echoed in your mind, a mantra meant to ground you, to remind you of your new role. This wasn’t some hellish confinement—it was an engagement. A proposal. Be his loving fiancée, you told yourself. Separate yourself from who you used to be. Play the part.

Your fingers brushed against the ring on your left hand, the black gems catching the dim light in the room and throwing small glimmers across the wall. The weight of it felt foreign, and yet… part of you welcomed it, felt anchored by its presence. You turned your hand slowly, watching the light play off the stone, as if it held the power to transform you into someone new.

This is my life now. The thought settled over you, heavy and cold. You couldn’t keep existing as who you’d been before, not here, not under his watchful eye. You had to separate yourself, to slip into this role. To survive. To pretend. The ring’s weight grounded you, tethering you to this new identity. The person you’d once been felt like a fading memory, a life left behind in another world.

The clothes in your hands felt heavy, each piece like a part of someone else’s life. You smoothed the silk between your fingers, focusing on the feel, the texture, letting yourself slip into a strange sense of detachment. This isn’t happening, a voice whispered at the back of your mind, but you pushed it down, deep into the pit of your stomach. There was no room for doubt now. You couldn’t let it surface, not when Sylus was watching your every move, waiting for cracks in the illusion you were creating.

The edges of your past life blurred, the memories growing fuzzy. Your apartment, Xavier, the freedom—they felt distant, like someone else’s story. And the more you organized, the more you repeated the silent mantra in your head, the more your past self seemed to slip further away.

You were his fiancée. His bride-to-be. The mother of his child. This was your life now, defined by the lavishness, the isolation, and the shadows of the N109 Zone.

Your thoughts were still scattered when the door creaked back open, pulling you sharply from your daze. Sylus entered, the quiet satisfaction on his face making your pulse spike. He moved closer, his gaze sweeping over you, taking in the change of clothes and the small attempts you’d made to organize your surroundings.

"Honey," he murmured, his voice a practiced warmth that made your skin crawl. "You look beautiful."

The word hung in the air like a heavy weight. Your stomach twisted, a surge of revulsion and defiance bubbling just beneath the surface, but you forced yourself to smile. He can't see through me, you told yourself. Stay calm. Play the part.

“Thank you, Sylus,” you replied softly, keeping your voice even, your eyes lifted to meet his. His gaze searched yours, and for a brief, terrifying moment, you thought he might see the turmoil you were hiding. But his expression only softened as he stepped closer.

The space between you evaporated as he closed the distance, his eyes warm with that disturbingly tender look he often gave you now, as though he could wrap his affection around you like a chain. His hand reached for your cheek, and his lips pressed against yours, soft but with an unmistakable possession. It took every ounce of control to keep yourself from recoiling. His hands moved downward, gliding over the fabric of your dress, then settled on your stomach, his fingers brushing lightly as though he were touching something sacred.

As Sylus’s hand settled on your stomach, your body went rigid, your mind screaming in silent protest. His fingers traced a gentle line along your abdomen, a mockery of tenderness that only amplified the revulsion pooling within you. The warmth of his touch seeped through the thin fabric of your dress, making your skin crawl as though a hundred ants were writhing just beneath the surface. You fought the impulse to pull away, to slap his hand from you. Instead, you forced yourself to endure it, to remain still, to keep the carefully constructed facade from crumbling.

You could almost feel the weight of his intentions pressing down on you with that simple, invasive gesture. His hand, possessive and unyielding, lingered a second too long on the spot that symbolized everything he had taken from you—your freedom, your choices, and now, even your body. The bile rose in your throat, and you had to force it back down, willing yourself to relax against the repulsion twisting inside you.

Sylus’s voice broke the silence, soft and coaxing, almost gentle. “Are you feeling okay?” he asked, his fingers brushing lightly over the fabric of your dress. “Any…changes?”

Your mind flickered back to every nauseous morning, the endless ache that had settled into your bones, the feeling of something foreign growing inside you, unwanted and relentless. But you kept your face passive, breathing shallowly to keep yourself steady, forcing down the loathing that his touch sparked in you.

"Yes,” you replied, your voice barely more than a murmur. “I’m feeling…less sick than usual." You added a faint smile, desperate to keep your revulsion buried beneath it.

His mouth curved into a pleased grin, and he rubbed your stomach with the tenderness that you’d have found sweet—if it wasn’t coming from him. Every brush of his fingers was another reminder of the lengths he’d gone to to keep you here, trapped in this twisted vision of love and control. The more his hand lingered, the more it felt like an iron clamp holding you in place, reminding you of everything he thought he’d secured. His eyes softened, as though he was truly moved by the connection he thought you shared. But beneath that false warmth lay an ownership so complete it turned your stomach.

Sylus’s eyes searched your face, his hand still tracing gentle circles on your stomach. “Good,” he said, voice low, “I was beginning to think the little one would keep giving you a hard time.” He chuckled softly, the sound dark and possessive as he continued to watch you.

You felt the laugh bubbling up in your throat, hollow and strained. It wasn’t funny; nothing about this was funny. But you had to give him something, anything to keep the facade from breaking. The laugh came out small and brittle, but he seemed satisfied enough. The smile lingered on his lips, pleased, like a cat that’s finally trapped its prey.

His gaze shifted again, a contemplative look darkening his features. He paused, his eyes tracing every detail of your face, as though he were trying to read the depths of your soul. You felt your heart race, panic prickling at the edges of your composure. Does he know? you wondered, your pulse pounding in your ears. Can he see through me?

He hesitated, then dropped his hand from your stomach. His face softened, his mouth curving into a gentle smile as he reached for your hand, squeezing it with a quiet affection that sent another shiver of disgust through you. “Breakfast is ready downstairs,” he said, voice calm but tinged with a subtle intensity. “Since we had a deal, you’ll be joining me in the dining room today.”

The words sparked a flame of excitement within you that you kept buried beneath a carefully neutral expression. Finally, you thought. A chance to finally get out of this room again. Even if he was going to be with you, watching your every move, this was a chance to observe, to take in the surroundings, to map out the layout of this cage he’d built around you. You let a soft, demure smile touch your lips as you nodded.

“That sounds…nice,” you replied, voice steady as your pulse thrummed with suppressed excitement. Keep it together, you told yourself. Don’t let him see.

Sylus watched you carefully, his gaze searching for any flicker of resistance. He was no fool; he was careful, calculating, and you knew he could see beneath surface pleasantries. But as your gaze met his, you felt a spark of pride—you were holding steady. This, at least, he couldn’t touch.

But the moment seemed to stretch, and Sylus’s expression darkened slightly, his smile fading as a more serious look settled on his face.

"A warning, honey," he said, his tone quiet but unmistakably firm, his eyes locking onto yours with a weight that made you feel as if you were being trapped all over again. "I’ve thought of every possible way you could try to escape. Every single one.” His voice softened, his hand lifting to your cheek, gently brushing his thumb over your skin, and you fought the instinct to flinch. “I don’t want to have to punish you,” he continued, his tone almost tender. “But if you try anything...I will. Do you understand?”

You swallowed hard, keeping your gaze fixed on his, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing the flicker of fear in your eyes. “I understand,” you murmured, voice steady. But beneath the calm mask, your mind raced. I won’t let him break me, you thought fiercely. My mind is mine. He can’t take that.

Sylus’s expression softened as he withdrew his hand, a satisfied smile gracing his lips.

"Good."

The word "good" lingered in the air like a quiet promise, or maybe a warning. He leaned down, messing with the lock on your chain until it came undone, freeing your ankle. Sylus's hand pressed lightly against the small of your back, firm and confident as he led you toward the door. The steady warmth of his touch, which you’d have found comforting under other circumstances, now only made your stomach churn.

The sound of his footsteps behind you was unsettlingly steady, each one a reminder of how trapped you were, how every movement, every word was all part of this intricate play you’d agreed to perform. You had committed yourself to this role, to pretending—pretending to love him, to see him as something he wasn’t. And if you wanted even a sliver of freedom, you’d have to keep up the act.

The air shifted as he opened the door, cool and light, with that strange stillness that seemed to hang over every corner of this place. No natural light met your eyes—no break in the oppressive shadows that filled the hall. Each step took you further from that familiar confinement, and yet the act of leaving the room didn’t bring you relief; instead, it was as if the walls expanded around you, reminding you of just how vast and endless your prison was.

He guided you forward, his presence close, hovering like an ever-watchful shadow. Memories of the last time you’d been out here assaulted your mind: the desperate rush for freedom, your footsteps barely whispering over the floor as you tried to escape. You pushed the memories down, trying to smother them beneath layers of numbness. Reese’s basement. The cold that clung to your bones, the darkness that swallowed every sound, every hope. You couldn’t let those thoughts resurface. Not now. Not when every inch of this house reminded you of that night you thought you had gotten away.

It took every ounce of control to walk calmly in front of him, to mask the dread twisting in your stomach. Sylus’s hand slipped from your back as you descended the stairs, his watchful gaze never leaving you. You focused on each step, your footfalls muted on the soft carpet, a stark contrast to the hammering of your heart. He had you under his thumb, and you could feel it with every step, every fleeting glance he cast your way, his eyes alight with that mix of possessive pride and some twisted form of care.

Finally, you reached the dining room. The warm scent of breakfast hung in the air, an almost comforting blend of cheese, ham, and eggs, with a subtle sweetness that promised something more. The table was laid out meticulously, each dish arranged as if part of a tableau. Fluffy omelettes filled with gooey cheese, chunks of ham, and flecks of green and red from the peppers and onions, each cut carefully to release a tantalizing aroma.

Golden-brown slices of French toast sat in stacks, sprinkled with powdered sugar that caught the light, giving them an almost ethereal glow. Next to them lay strips of crispy bacon, their smoky scent filling the room, mingling with the warmth of melted butter and syrup in a way that made your stomach growl in betrayal.

Sylus pulled out a chair for you, his hand lingering on the back of it, waiting until you were seated before he moved to his own place across from you. His plate mirrored yours, arranged with the same care, but you could feel his gaze as he watched you intently, like he was savoring every second of this shared meal. You picked up your fork, your hands steady despite the turmoil within. You had to keep up the illusion, the facade. You’d come this far. You couldn’t slip now.

He took a bite, his eyes softening as he watched you, as if breakfast were some quiet declaration of his devotion. “I’m having one of the rooms upstairs renovated for the baby,” he said, his voice gentle, almost tentative, as if he were letting you into a sacred secret. “I can show it to you after breakfast if you’d like.”

The words cut through you like ice, though you forced your face into a careful, neutral expression, nodding as if this prospect thrilled you. You didn’t want to go up there, to see what he was creating, to make real the future he’d carved out without your consent. You took another bite of the omelette, chewing mechanically, swallowing hard against the nausea that rose within you. But he didn’t seem to notice the pause, too wrapped up in his own excitement.

“When we know the gender,” he continued, his voice brimming with a carefully concealed thrill, “you’ll have full control over what you want in the room. Anything you envision, I’ll make it happen.” His eyes sparkled as he looked at you, his enthusiasm painfully genuine.

“Really?” The word left your lips in a soft, curious tone you didn’t entirely expect. He seemed so willing, so eager to give you something, to let you play a part in this vision he had for the future. Despite yourself, the generosity of it surprised you, the way he seemed so desperate to mold this life for you both, to make it something he thought you’d want.

Sylus nodded, the warmth in his gaze deepening. “Absolutely,” he replied, his voice soft, a hint of pride there, as though he were offering you something precious. “Even if the room’s finished and you decide you want to change everything, it’s no trouble. I’ll have Luke and Kieran redo it as many times as you want. Even repaint it a thousand times if that’s what it takes to make you happy.”

You smiled softly, more out of reflex than genuine feeling, your fingers absently toying with the expensive ring he’d placed on your finger. The weight of it felt almost mocking, a reminder of everything he was trying to wrap you in, of how deeply he had embedded himself in every part of your life. Why did he go to such lengths? Why did he care so much about pleasing you, about making you happy, when he was the reason you were here, trapped in this gilded prison? You felt an unexpected tightness in your chest, a pang of confusion and bitterness mingling in a way that left you feeling hollow.

Forcing yourself to maintain the act, you let out a light laugh, trying to keep the tone playful.

If it’s a girl,” you said, your voice sounding strangely detached even to your own ears, “maybe we could make it look like…a dreamscape? Something soft. Like she’s living in a cloud, floating above it all.” The words slipped out, and for a moment, a pang of sadness struck you, imagining a child who would never know freedom, who would grow up within the walls of a world he’d forged.

The words felt foreign, like someone else was speaking them, yet you pushed on, ignoring the way your heart twisted. “If it’s a boy, maybe something different, like decorating it to look like the night sky? All you ever see for boys are trucks and dinosaurs. Pretty boring,” you added, forcing a chuckle.

Sylus chuckled softly in return, nodding thoughtfully, seemingly thrilled by this glimpse into your thoughts. “I agree. Whatever you come up with, Im sure the baby will love it.”

The way he looked at you, with that bright, unguarded hopefulness, was surreal—like he wasn’t the same man who had dragged you into this nightmare. His smile, his promises…they twisted in your mind, clashing against the memories of everything he had done. And yet here he was, eagerly offering you choices as if any of this could somehow become normal, as if anything he did could erase the horrors that clung to you like a second skin.

You forced yourself to nod, to play along, swallowing down the bitterness that rose like bile in your throat. “Yeah...hopefully” you murmured, glancing back at the ring he’d put on your finger. It gleamed in the dim dining room light, mocking you, a reminder of the prison you now wore on your very body. No matter how softly he spoke, how kindly he smiled, you knew this wasn't just a proposal of love—it was also a declaration of ownership.

He had said it was yours, everything he had—all his resources, his entire life. You could have it, he’d promised, if only you stayed beside him. But the cost was unspoken, hanging heavily between you. It was everything else you’d lost in the exchange. Your freedom. Your past. And worst of all, your future. Your dreams. The life you’d dreamed of was gone, scattered like ashes, and here he was offering you a new one, handpicked, designed…controlled by him.

Your fingers brushed against the delicate fabric of your dress, your skin crawling as you felt his eyes follow the motion. Every time his gaze lingered, it was like he was trying to peel away the layers of your thoughts, to see beyond your outward calm. He wanted you to love this world he’d constructed, to surrender to it, to him.

Sylus’s voice broke the silence, his tone warm and conversational, as though you were any other couple discussing future plans over breakfast. “I want you to be happy, honey,” he said, his eyes watching you intently. “Whatever it takes.”

The words grated against you. Happy? Did he truly believe happiness could be built on chains, on rape, on fear? But you bit down on your retort, aware of the deal you’d struck with yourself: stay quiet, play along. Pretend to be content until you found an opening to escape.

You steeled yourself, picking up a piece of omelette and forcing a bite. The savory flavor filled your mouth, rich with cheese and herbs, a stark contrast to the bitterness churning in your chest. You could hardly focus on the taste, though, as every forkful felt more like a performance than a meal.

Your mind drifted to the night he’d placed that ring on your finger, and the memory clawed at you, reminding you of how helpless you’d felt. He’d knelt before you, spoken to you with tenderness you’d once dreamed of, but it was all wrong. His words were cages, his promises laced with possessiveness along with devotion. And here you were, entertaining his fantasies, playing the role he expected, all the while simmering with resentment beneath the surface.

The silence stretched between you as you chewed, and you could feel his gaze lingering on you, as if savoring each hint of compliance, every signal that you were softening to his world. The notion made your stomach turn, and you fought to keep your expression neutral, pushing down the revulsion that bubbled up every time he glanced at you with that unsettling fondness.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, the words tasting bitter as they left your mouth.

He must have sensed your discomfort because his hand found yours across the table, his fingers curling around your own in a gentle but firm grip. The touch sent an uncomfortable shiver up your spine, but you managed to stay still, breathing deeply as he spoke again.

"You're welcome".

Sylus watched you closely, seemingly oblivious to the defiance simmering in your mind, misinterpreting your polite responses as something more. He leaned back, finally releasing your hand, and you had to stifle the sigh of relief that wanted to escape.

He lifted his coffee, taking a slow sip as he studied you over the rim, that same possessive look glinting in his eyes. You could see his satisfaction, his self-assured belief that he was winning you over, that with enough time, you’d come to want this life he was forcing upon you.

But beneath that calm exterior, a storm was raging, one that no amount of soft words or promises could quell. You kept your composure, maintained the charade, all while feeling the weight of that ring on your finger like a shackle, a reminder of the life he’d stolen from you.

“You done? You're not eating anymore,” he finally said, his voice low and approving as he set his coffee down. The satisfaction in his tone was unmistakable, a quiet certainty that made your stomach twist with anger.

"Oh! Yeah...I'm full. Thank you for the meal".

Without another word, he stood and walked around the table, extending a hand to help you up. You forced yourself to take it, hating the way his fingers felt warm and solid around yours, grounding you in a reality you wished you could shatter. He pulled you gently to your feet, his hand lingering just a little too long as he smiled down at you.

“Let’s go see the nursery,” he murmured, a strange tenderness in his tone as though he genuinely believed he was offering you something precious.

You swallowed hard, pushing down the nausea that rose at the thought of following him deeper into this life he wanted to build. Your hands trembled slightly, but you clenched them into fists, forcing yourself to breathe as you steeled yourself for whatever came next.

This was all a performance, a lie spun so carefully that even he couldn’t see through it. You had to remind yourself of that. Every step you took was one step closer to escape, to reclaiming the life he’d stolen. And though he might not see it, every forced smile, every quiet nod, was a weapon in your silent rebellion.

Sylus led you back up the winding staircase, his hand resting possessively on the small of your back. His touch was light, yet constant—a reminder that he was in control, guiding you through the unfamiliar and shadowy corners of this place. Your stomach twisted with a blend of dread and unease, but beneath that was a flicker of anticipation. You were finally leaving the bedroom again, stepping outside its confining walls, mapping out more of the house. For the first time in what felt like forever, you were gaining a sense of your surroundings, every detail cataloged for future use.

When you reached the top of the stairs, Sylus paused in front of a wide, partially open doorway. “This is it,” he murmured, his voice carrying a note of quiet pride as he pulled the door open for you.

The room was expansive—much larger than you’d expected. As Sylus guided you inside, your eyes widened, taking in the sheer scale of the space. Dust motes floated lazily through the beams of light from the tall, arched windows at the back of the room, casting soft, silvery patterns across the unfinished wooden floor. Even in its early stages of renovation, there was a grandeur to the room, with its high ceilings and intricate moldings, making it feel more like a sanctuary than a nursery.

The room itself was an absolute mess. Tools were strewn about haphazardly, piles of wooden planks leaned against one wall, and white tarps covered parts of the floor. There were cans of paint, ladders, and half-installed shelves along the perimeter. Despite the chaos, you could see the skeleton of what it might become—the walk-in closet on one side, spacious and already fitted with a few shelves, the beginnings of a built-in bookshelf near the window. It was unsettlingly beautiful, and that paradox didn’t sit right with you. This room was meant for a child, your child—a child you didn’t ask for, in a life you hadn’t chosen.

You were so absorbed in your thoughts that you almost didn’t notice the two figures hunched over the unfinished flooring, tools in hand, their faces obscured by bird masks. Luke and Kieran. You hadn’t seen them in a while, and their sudden appearance felt like a slap, pulling you sharply back into this warped reality. Still, there was something almost comforting about their presence. Of everyone in this place, they were the least threatening. They were more like overgrown children themselves, mischievous and playful.

As soon as they saw you and Sylus, they sprang to their feet in unison, like they’d been caught playing instead of working. Luke’s hammer slipped from his hand, clattering loudly against the floor with an echo that bounced off the bare walls. Kieran smacked him on the back of the head immediately, the gesture both reprimanding and oddly familiar—brotherly, almost.

“Hi, boss! Miss!” Luke called out, rubbing the back of his head where Kieran had smacked him. “Nice to see you! Feeling any better?” His voice carried a genuine enthusiasm, bright and disarming despite the mask hiding his face.

You gave a small, awkward smile, not quite sure how to respond but feeling the warmth of their attention, which was strangely comforting in its simplicity. “I’m fine, thank you,” you replied, almost laughing as Luke’s excitement seemed to bounce off Kieran, whose head snapped up at your words.

Kieran, keeping a respectful distance yet clearly intrigued, tilted his head with what you guessed was curiosity. “Is it twins, boss?” he asked, and even without seeing his face, you could almost sense the spark of excitement in his voice.

Luke perked up immediately at his brother’s question, nodding as he moved a bit closer, looking directly at your stomach. “Yeah, is it twins?” he echoed, their eagerness radiating from them both, despite the masks that hid any expression.

Feeling shy, a wave of discomfort washed over you. The weight of their stares made you feel oddly exposed, like you were on display. But before you could respond, Sylus’s hand came to rest on your back again, a possessive but somehow protective gesture, and he answered for you, his tone playful.

“No, not twins. Not a pair the two of you could influence, thankfully” he replied, amusement clear in his voice as he added the playful jab.

Both brothers let out exaggerated groans, as if they were genuinely disappointed. The sound was so exaggerated and childish that you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, and to your surprise, it felt genuine. For a fleeting moment, it was almost like things were normal, like you weren’t trapped in this house, under Sylus’s watch.

“Ahh, fine,” Luke muttered, shaking his head dramatically. “Just thought a pair would’ve made things more interesting, that’s all.”

Kieran nodded in mock solemnity, hands on his hips. “Could’ve been our legacy, boss,” he said with exaggerated disappointment, and both he and Luke sighed as if heartbroken.

Luke’s shoulders slumped, and he mumbled to Kieran, “Guess we’ll just have to settle for one, huh?”

Kieran gave him a little nudge. “At least we get to help with the room. Think of all the stuff we can build!”

The two of them started chatting animatedly about work they would have to do for the nursery, tossing out suggestions with an eagerness that would’ve been contagious if not for the circumstances. You couldn’t deny the odd charm they added to this otherwise stifling existence. Despite everything, they had this strange innocence about them, a playful energy that, in any other setting, might’ve been endearing.

Sylus watched them for a moment, his arm resting casually around your waist as if he were proudly presenting you to his subordinates. You felt the weight of his hand settle there, possessive but gentle, a silent claim that you couldn’t quite ignore. His thumb stroked your side in a way that sent an involuntary shiver down your spine, though you kept your composure, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much his touch affected you.

Here was a man planning a life—a whole future—that included you and this child, no matter how much you resisted.

“Now that we’re certain it’s just one,” Sylus said, turning his attention back to you, “I thought you might like to see the progress. Soon, this will be more than just an empty room.” He gestured around at the chaos, at the splattered paint cans and ladders and unfinished shelves, a proud look crossing his face.

You nodded, unable to bring yourself to respond with anything more than silent agreement, though internally, your emotions churned. This was a room that was becoming a nursery, a place that would hold things meant for a child you didn’t ask for. A child you were being forced to carry.

“If you think it's too big” Sylus continued, his voice softening, “Just say the word. I could have the nursery downsized or moved to a smaller room.” His words were tender, warm, as though he truly meant every single promise.

"No! I think its perfect. Its enough space for a growing child. I have lots of ideas" you replied, feigning surprise at the suggestion. Sylus gave you another genuine smile and your chest tightened.

There was a softness in his eyes, a genuine fondness that almost made you feel guilty for the act you were putting on. But as his words hung in the air, you felt the reality of it sink in. This wasn’t a game. This wasn’t something that would end soon. This was the world you were in now, and as much as you hated it, you couldn’t afford to let him see even a hint of rebellion.

The twins chimed in with their own ideas, talking over each other in a way that reminded you of a pair of mischievous kids, throwing out suggestions that ranged from the whimsical to the absurd. At one point, Luke suggested painting the entire ceiling with glow-in-the-dark stars, which Kieran immediately amended to “only if they change colors,” sparking a debate that had them practically bickering.

You watched them, a strange mix of emotions swirling inside you. They were both so engrossed in the planning, so wrapped up in their excitement, that you could almost forget where you were. For a moment, it felt like you were just another person, planning for a future, surrounded by people who cared.

But it was a fleeting feeling. The truth lingered beneath the surface, cold and unforgiving. These weren’t your friends; they were part of this gilded cage Sylus had built around you. And as much as they made you laugh, as much as their antics brought a brief respite, you couldn’t let yourself get attached. You couldn’t afford to see them as anything more than accomplices in your captivity.

The low buzz of Sylus’s phone cut through your thoughts, interrupting the quiet moment you'd both fallen into. His fingers stilled against your hand, and you noticed a flicker of something cross his face as he read the message on his screen—a brief tightening of his mouth, a frown, there and gone. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something had unsettled him, but before you could ask, he looked up, schooling his expression into that familiar, unreadable calm.

“There’s something I need to take care of,” he said, his voice steady, though there was a subtle edge you couldn’t place. He straightened up, eyes flicking to Luke and Kieran, who quickly gathered themselves at his call, setting their tools aside and moving to his side with quick, attentive steps.

Without another word, Sylus gently led you from the room, his hand resting at the small of your back. His usual warmth was there, but his fingers pressed a little firmer than usual, guiding you down the stairs and back to the main living room. The unease stirred in your chest, curiosity mingling with that odd, persistent sense of dread. But his silence felt impenetrable, a wall you couldn’t break through.

Reaching the living room, he gestured toward the couch with a soft smile. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable,” he said, picking up the remote and explaining its functions, the buttons, the layout—all with practiced ease, his voice gentle, calm, as though nothing had shifted. You watched him, taking in the way he moved, the fleeting seriousness that now hid behind his careful smile. He handed you the remote, his hand brushing yours, a slight warmth in his gaze.

“Here, all set. Feel free to watch anything you like.” His words felt like an invitation and a dismissal all at once, something that set your teeth on edge.

You sank into the couch, the remote cold in your hand, your gaze flicking from the television back to him. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a lingering kiss. His lips were warm, lingering longer than expected, and you couldn’t help the shiver that traveled down your spine, your thoughts suddenly fogged by the intensity in his gaze as he pulled back to look into your eyes.

“I won’t be long,” he said quietly, his voice carrying an odd, reassuring note. “Remember, I'm still watching.”

As if on cue, Mephisto let out a shrilled caw, flapping his wings in a nearby corner.

Then, without waiting for you to respond, he straightened up, casting one last glance at you as he called for Luke and Kieran to follow him. The twins nodded, their voices oddly subdued as they bid you a quick goodbye, and with a swift motion from Sylus, the three of them slipped through a door you hadn’t even noticed before. The quiet click of it closing echoed in the room, leaving you with an odd sense of displacement, alone and without answers.

It felt strange, like you’d been locked inside a perfectly curated world, each detail, each movement, meticulously crafted. You glanced around the room, feeling the walls press in as your curiosity turned to a simmering frustration. What had just happened? And why hadn’t they taken the front door?

With a sigh, you turned your focus to the television, clutching the remote a little tighter than necessary. Flipping through the channels, you hoped for a glimpse into the outside world—a news report, even an old program to provide a hint of normalcy. But as you scrolled through the channels, static greeted you more often than not, a white noise of silence and empty screens. The frustration grew with each click. Had he blocked access somehow? Manipulated the channels? It was unsettling, feeling your freedom so carefully managed even here, even with something as simple as television.

Finally, your thumb stopped on a cooking competition show, the contestants anxiously awaiting the judges’ final verdict. The bright lights, bustling noise, and vibrant colors flooded the screen, a stark contrast to the oppressive quiet of the room. The clatter of utensils, the frenzied footsteps of chefs, and the animated voices of the hosts blended together in a steady stream of noise. You tried to lose yourself in it, telling yourself it was enough to distract you from the silence Sylus left behind, the nagging thoughts clawing at the back of your mind.

Yet, as the show went on, it grew harder to focus. The contestants’ faces, their desperate, proud smiles as they awaited judgment—each detail seemed to blur, fading into the background as your eyes grew heavier, the tension slowly easing from your body. The exhaustion crept over you like a blanket, softening the edges of the room, the voices on the screen dimming to a low murmur.

You hadn't slept well last night and it seemed like it was catching up to you, fast.

Your head sank back into the plush cushion of the couch, your body sinking into its warmth, finally feeling the weight of your own fatigue pulling you under. Each sound from the television, once sharp and distinct, now blurred into a gentle hum, a lullaby of noise lulling you closer to the edge of sleep. It was as though the clattering, the chatter—all of it had softened, becoming a distant echo as your eyes closed.

The air was still as Xavier moved toward Dr. Merrill’s car in the early morning light, his steps soundless on the damp pavement. The doctor waited by the car, visibly tense, his gaze flickering nervously around the quiet street. Xavier didn’t say much as he approached; the plan had already been set, and neither of them had room for hesitation now.

Xavier hadn't slept at all. His heart and thoughts of rescuing you keeping him up all night. Still, he was ready for anything.

“You remember the plan?” Xavier asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Dr. Merrill gave a stiff nod, his hands gripping the car keys tightly. “Yes. Just…get in. I’ll drive straight there.”

Xavier held his gaze for a long moment, his eyes cold and unwavering, before slipping silently into the trunk. He positioned himself among the dark, cramped confines, angling his sword at his side and securing the gun in its ankle holster. Before Dr. Merrill closed the trunk, their eyes met—a silent warning that if anything went wrong, Xavier wouldn’t hesitate to act.

The trunk lid shut, plunging him into darkness. Xavier shifted, trying to settle into the limited space, listening as the car’s engine rumbled to life. His muscles tensed reflexively as the doctor pulled away from the curb, the vibrations of the car and the faint hum of the radio filling the silence. He could hear Merrill’s steady breathing from the driver’s seat, and with each passing mile, Xavier tried to keep his own thoughts in check.

It was a distant drive to wherever Sylus was keeping you, and with every turn, Xavier’s mind cycled through the possibilities. What if this was a trap? What if Merrill had been in on this from the start, feeding him scraps of information to lead him into Sylus’s hands? Doubts gnawed at the edges of his thoughts, urging him to act, to abandon the plan and confront Merrill directly. But he kept himself still, breathing through the doubts, reminding himself why he had taken this risk in the first place.

Every mile brought him closer to you. He wouldn’t let fear, suspicion, or second-guessing make him lose focus now.

He shifted in the cramped trunk, adjusting his sword to avoid the bruising angle against his ribs. Even if Dr. Merrill turned on him, he had the advantage. The doctor was no match, not with the weapons Xavier had brought along. He ran his fingers over the hilt of his sword, feeling the familiar weight and comfort of the steel. If the doctor so much as hinted at a betrayal, Xavier was prepared to finish this himself.

The drive felt like an eternity, the muffled sounds of the car and the gentle, rhythmic hum of the engine blending into a single, unrelenting pulse that synced with Xavier’s heart. Confined in the dark, his thoughts drifted, stirring up worries he’d tried to suppress. What kind of shape would you be in when he found you? His grip tightened around the hilt of his sword as images flickered through his mind: bruises, broken bones, or worse. But no, Dr. Merrill had said you seemed "relatively fine." He clung to those words, though doubt lingered. Would the doctor really lie about something that critical?

Xavier exhaled slowly, trying to loosen the tension in his chest. The longer he lay still, the harder it was to remain calm. Just as he felt himself relax, the car made a sharp turn, jolting him back to attention, his senses on high alert. Then, with a final shudder, the car slowed and came to a complete stop.

He heard muffled voices, then Dr. Merrill’s sharp tone breaking through: “Yes, just let me get my equipment.” A moment later, the trunk creaked open, and the doctor’s shadow loomed over him, his hands moving around, gathering items. Amidst the clutter of tools, he paused, whispering down to Xavier, “Come out in about ten minutes.” Without another word, Dr. Merrill shut the trunk.

In the darkness, Xavier forced himself to remain still, every muscle tense as he counted each second, honing the quiet fury building inside him. At the ten-minute mark, he reached for the emergency release, cracking the trunk just enough to scan his surroundings. The place was shrouded in darkness, usual for the N109 Zone, and before him loomed a massive mansion, dark and imposing, with towering iron gates casting long shadows. This was no hideaway; this was a practically a fortress. He clenched his jaw, dismissing the thoughts. Sylus had hidden you here—locked you away, with him just barely out of reach.

Dismissing his thoughts, Xavier dropped silently to the ground, his sword gripped tightly in one hand. Moving with practiced silence, he circled the property, observing every window and doorway. Obviously, he couldn’t risk the front door. There had to be another way.

As he scanned the wall for any sign of a side window or gap, Dr. Merrill emerged from the shadows beside him, startling him for a split second. Xavier fought back the urge to question him outright but kept his expression hardened.

“She’s here. They’ve left her alone for the time being,” Dr. Merrill murmured, voice tight with urgency. “She’s on the other side of the property. There’s a horse track there—she’s sitting by herself now. I told them I needed to come back for more equipment, so we don’t have much time. Follow me quietly.”

Xavier’s mind reeled for a moment. Outside? He frowned, surprised that they’d leave you anywhere outside the mansion. The information felt…off. But he couldn’t risk any delay. Dr. Merrill led him around the property, ducking through hedges and skirting the perimeter of the house, his steps quiet but hurried. The mansion loomed overhead, casting long, eerie shadows, as Xavier kept his mind clear, focusing only on getting to you. Still, something nagged at him—the doctor’s demeanor was too rigid, his movements practiced, as though he were acting out a scene rather than guiding him honestly.

As they neared the supposed horse track, Xavier’s pulse quickened, thoughts racing with anticipation. Every step brought him closer to you—closer to whatever state Sylus had left you in. His mind filled with images of you, weary and frightened, waiting somewhere alone in the darkness, perhaps hopeful that he would come for you. He clutched his sword tighter, readying himself for whatever he might find. He owed you strength, no matter what lay ahead.

They moved around the corner of the mansion, and in the distance, a wide, open space unfolded. The outline of a fence and worn dirt paths marked the track, a sprawling arena shrouded in shadow. His eyes scanned the area, seeking any sign of movement, but it was eerily empty. The realization unsettled him; where were you?

“Where is she?” he whispered, his voice laced with tension as he threw a sharp glance at Dr. Merrill.

“Further up ahead,” Merrill replied, his tone low, almost evasive, as he kept his gaze forward, but something in the doctor's demeanor felt off—too rigid, too practiced. Xavier’s instincts prickled, every sense on high alert.

He took a tentative step forward, but the quiet of the night shattered in an instant.

“Nice of you to join us, Xavier.”

A voice, smooth and laced with cold amusement, rang out from the shadows. Xavier spun around, his eyes landing on two figures stepping out from the darkness: two men, their bird masks glinting faintly in the dim light. Both men held guns, casual but poised, as if they had been expecting him all along.

“Surprised?” One's voice was mocking, his masked face tilting as he looked Xavier up and down. “You didn’t think we’d just leave her here alone, did you?”

Xavier’s jaw tightened, rage flaring in his chest. He shifted his grip on his sword, his eyes narrowing as he assessed his options. His mind raced through the possibility of overpowering them quickly, finding you, and escaping. But the odds were grim, even for him.

“You’re a fool, Merrill,” Xavier hissed, not turning his head but sensing the doctor’s panicked figure shrinking beside him. “I should've known better.”

Merrill stammered, his voice trembling as he took a step back. "They knew, they knew before you even got into the trunk. I had no choice.”

The twins exchanged an amused glance, chuckling low under their breath. “No choice indeed,” one man muttered.

Xavier raised his sword, his gaze locked onto the twins, his body taut, prepared for a fight. But something about their stance, their nonchalance, told him they weren’t here to engage. Not yet, anyway. They were taunting him, toying with him.

“I hope you enjoyed your ride,” The one on the left continued, cocking his head. “We’ve been waiting for someone to entertain us. And it seems we’ve found the perfect guest.”

The simmering rage within Xavier boiled over, his grip white-knuckled on the hilt of his sword as he took a deliberate step forward, the adrenaline heightening his senses. But before he could make another move, the one on the right raised his hand, his tone shifting from playful to deadly serious.

“You can put up a fight, or you can come quietly. Sylus said he wants you alive, so we won’t kill you…yet.”

Xavier’s heart pounded, his mind calculating his next move. He had come so close, so close to finding you, only to be ensnared in Sylus’s web of cruelty once more. His hatred for the man twisted like a knife in his chest, fueling his determination. He met the twins’ gaze, his eyes cold and unyielding.

“I’ll see her. I’ll get to her, whether you’re in my way or not,” he growled, his voice filled with a steely resolve.

The twins merely chuckled, shifting into ready stances as they prepared to intercept any attempt he might make to break past them.

“Keep dreaming, hunter,” one of them taunted, his eyes gleaming from behind the mask.

As the twins pulled their weapons, Xavier tightened his grip on his sword, his instincts kicking in at the sight of gleaming barrels trained on him. They fired rapidly, bullets cutting through the night with sharp precision, but he was ready. With practiced speed, he swung his blade, deflecting the bullets in quick succession, each metallic impact reverberating through the air. His movements were fluid, instinctual, each deflection measured and fierce.

Then, with a snap of his fingers, a surge of energy pulsed from the sword, casting a searing light that brightened the shadows around him. His sword blazed with ethereal energy, and he raised it, pointing it toward the twins. With a swift, calculated swipe, he unleashed a burst of radiant light toward them. They dodged nimbly, their movements so swift and synchronized that he lost track of them for a heartbeat.

A shift in the air behind him was his only warning. Instinct took over as he spun, his blade flashing, narrowly missing one of the twins who had managed to slip within striking distance.

“Woah there,” the twin chuckled, quickly sidestepping the blade with a humorous laugh. “I kinda need my arm.” Without missing a beat, he whipped out two pistols, firing off rounds with swiftness, his aim precise and relentless. Each shot was timed perfectly with his brother’s, their rhythm fast and lethal.

Xavier moved, his body a blur as he deflected the bullets, the clang of metal resounding like a discordant symphony. His sword, blazing with light, was like an extension of himself, weaving through the hailstorm of bullets. His concentration was ironclad, his every muscle coiled and ready for the next strike. He raised his sword again, releasing another blinding arc of light toward them, its brilliance cutting through the darkness. Yet the twins seemed to dance through it effortlessly, their steps quick and unpredictable, bodies weaving in and out of the shadows with uncanny agility.

His evol blazed brighter, each pulse of it illuminating the yard in stark flashes. He lunged forward, catching one of the twins off-guard, his blade singing through the air as he aimed for his shoulder. The twin dodged but stumbled slightly, and in that brief opening, Xavier surged forward.

Without hesitation, Xavier seized the moment, spinning around and lunging forward. He knocked the pistol out of the man's hand, his foot connecting hard with the man’s chest as he shoved him to the ground. In a swift movement, Xavier was over him, pinning him down, his sword poised above the twin’s head.

The other twin froze momentarily, his gun raised, but Xavier’s eyes were locked on his target, the edge of his blade catching the dim light.

“Not so cocky now, are you?” Xavier growled, pressing his weight down on the twin’s chest, his sword ready to end it. He could feel the man’s heartbeat racing beneath him, the edge of fear flickering behind the mask.

But before he could strike, the world around him seemed to twist and tighten. A chilling sensation wrapped around his entire body, freezing him in place. His vision dimmed, his breaths coming out in shallow gasps as the freezing grip closed around him, leaching away his strength and numbing his muscles.

The air around him thickened, the dark chill creeping into his bones as his vision began to blur. His thoughts grew foggy, slipping from his control, and he struggled to hold on, to stay conscious as he fought the paralyzing force. And then, through the haze, he saw a figure step into view.

A slow, mocking clap echoed in front of him. Then a chilling laugh.

Sylus.

He appeared calm, his expression betraying a hint of boredom as he took in Xavier’s struggling form with a smirk. “Nice show,” Sylus drawled, his voice smooth yet laced with an undertone of menace. “But I’m afraid I’ve grown bored.” He took a step closer, his red eyes gleaming in the dim light as he sized Xavier up with an air of practiced disdain.

He looked predatory. Like a demon that had just stepped out of the shadows.

“The father of the child in your ex-lover’s belly.”

For a split second, Xavier’s mind went blank, his thoughts freezing under the sheer weight of those words. Then, in an instant, they detonated within him, a rush of shock, anger, and raw disbelief surging through his veins like venom. His pulse pounded, erratic and wild, the realization cutting deep. It couldn’t be. No. This was impossible. Sylus had to be lying, manipulating him, preying on the one fear he had buried too deep to acknowledge.

The blood roared in Xavier’s ears as the accusation sank in. His jaw clenched, his fists balled, nails digging into his palms so hard he could feel his own pulse there. “Liar,” he ground out, his voice rough, a desperate denial choked by a flicker of dread that tightened around his chest. But even as he spoke the word, his conviction wavered. Sylus’s smug expression, that insidious confidence, gnawed at the edges of his certainty. What if he wasn’t lying?

The red mist surrounding them thickened, pressing down on Xavier like a relentless tide, choking the air from his lungs as if Sylus controlled not just his body but the very air he breathed. “You f-fucking liar,” he gasped, his voice hoarse, trembling under the strain of holding onto his sanity. He couldn’t let this man get to him, couldn’t show weakness.

But Sylus’s smirk only widened, his gaze gleaming with a sickening pleasure that twisted Xavier’s stomach. He leaned in, close enough that Xavier could feel his breath, his tone mocking, dripping with satisfaction. “You doubt me?” he taunted, arching a brow, his eyes boring into Xavier’s as though peeling away every layer of defense, exposing every raw nerve. “You want to see her, don’t you?” The way he said it, the way he tilted his head with that taunting gleam, made every nerve in Xavier’s body scream in protest, but he stayed silent, refusing to give Sylus the satisfaction.

But Sylus saw through him, every flicker of pain, every glint of desperation in his eyes feeding the twisted satisfaction etched on his face. “Of course you do,” he murmured, voice soft yet cruel, the words twisting like a knife. “There’s a price though,” he added, his voice dropping into a sinister whisper. “And since you don’t have any money here…”

Before Xavier could react, a sharp, brutal punch crashed into his face, snapping his head back with a crack that echoed in his ears. The pain exploded, blinding and immediate, radiating through his skull and searing down his neck. Blood flooded his mouth, the coppery taste harsh on his tongue as he spat onto the ground, his breathing harsh, labored.

He felt his skull throb and his nose throb in pain, cursing in his head that it was definitely broken.

The anger simmered in him, stronger than the pain, a blazing, unyielding fire. Through the pain, he forced out a taunt, his words venomous, defiant. “You…hit like a bitch,” he spat, his voice a harsh rasp, but even as he spoke, he felt the bruises blooming across his cheek, the throb of his split lip. Inside, he clung to the anger, the fury that felt like the last shred of his sanity.

Sylus’s dark chuckle sliced through his defiance, his smile widening into something dark, almost gleeful. Without warning, he unleashed another barrage of punches, each one landing harder than the last, each one aimed with a precision that bordered on the sadistic. His fists pounded into Xavier’s ribs, his gut, his jaw, each impact an agony that burned through him, breaking him down one relentless blow at a time.

Xavier choked out a groan, fighting to stay conscious, to hold on to the remnants of his strength. He couldn’t let go. He couldn’t let Sylus win. But the pain was overwhelming, his vision blurring as his head swam. His body screamed in protest, but he forced himself to breathe, to keep his mind focused on you.

His body buckled under the continued assault, every nerve alight with agony, his vision blurring as he fought the pain. He couldn’t fall, couldn’t give in, but his strength was slipping with every hit, every sharp crack of bone and blinding flash of pain. Blood trickled from his nose, his lip, pooling in his mouth, staining his teeth with every ragged breath he forced out.

As if bored by the spectacle, Sylus finally stepped back, releasing the red mist that had held him captive. Xavier’s body crumpled to the ground, his limbs heavy, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he fought to regain control. The cold ground pressed against his cheek, rough and biting, but it grounded him, gave him something real to focus on. His fingers brushed against something solid, cold, familiar.

His sword.

A spark of hope flared within him, a small, fragile flame in the darkness. If he could just reach it, just close his fingers around the hilt, he might still have a chance. His hand stretched, trembling, desperate, but just as he felt the cold metal beneath his fingertips, Sylus’s hand clamped onto his shoulder, dragging him back with brutal force. Sylus then proceeded to step on his sword, shattering it into several big pieces with the weight of his foot.

Xavier struggled, his body weakened but his spirit unyielding, his fingers clawing at the ground as Sylus hauled him toward the mansion’s grand entrance.

Sylus dragged Xavier to the front door, fingers twisted tightly into the back of his hair, forcing him forward with ruthless force. Xavier stumbled, disoriented, pain flaring with every step. Just as he tried to regain some semblance of footing, Sylus wrenched him sideways, shoving his face against the cold, polished glass of the side window. Blood smeared across the pane, leaving dark streaks on what had once been pristine.

“You wanted to see her, didn’t you?” Sylus sneered, voice dripping with mockery. “Well…here she is. Get a good look.”

Xavier’s heart hammered as he strained to focus. Through his blurred, bloody vision, he saw you lying on the couch inside, curled in a delicate sleep. A pang tore through him; you were thinner than he remembered, and yet somehow you still looked serene, your chest rising and falling in the gentle rhythm of dreams. The sight of you so close made his heart ache with a potent mixture of relief and despair.

You didn't look pregnant. Relief flooded through his head as he shoved that thought away. Sylus must be fucking with him. He had to be.

He tried to call out to you, his voice barely a gurgle as blood filled his mouth, choking the words. A weak, strangled sound escaped him, nothing more than a pained gasp. He coughed, tasting blood, helplessness surging in his chest as he realized just how powerless he was to reach you.

“Don’t bother,” Sylus said coolly, leaning close, his voice a silken taunt. “She can’t hear you. I’ve had the living room soundproofed. She’s completely oblivious to the fun we’re having out here.” With a quick flick of his hand, Sylus shoved Xavier back, sending him sprawling onto the gravel. Pain shot through his ribs, a sharp and searing agony that made him cry out, his breath shallow and ragged.

Sylus advanced, his expression a twisted blend of satisfaction and disdain as he knelt down, pinning Xavier beneath his weight. Xavier’s body screamed in protest, but every attempt to move sent fresh waves of pain through his broken, battered form. Sylus wasted no time removing the pistol Xavier had hidden at his ankle, throwing it across the ground. Xavier's heart dropped as he heard the metal clatter.

Sylus’s grip then tightened, his hand pressing down with deliberate, sadistic force on Xavier’s shoulder, pinning him against the ground with an air of twisted relish.

“You’re lucky,” Sylus drawled, his tone laced with disdain, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I made her a promise, you know. To keep you alive. Otherwise, I would have turned you into mush back in the car. But I have to admit…” His smirk widened as he pressed down harder, grinding his thumb into Xavier’s collarbone with a precision that made Xavier’s breath catch painfully.

“This is much more satisfying.”

Xavier gritted his teeth, the pain forcing white spots into his vision, but he forced himself to stay conscious, his mind locked onto you, on the image of you safe and unhurt. He couldn’t let this monster win.

Without another word, Sylus’s grip slid down to Xavier’s arm, his fingers digging into muscle and bone with an almost surgical awareness. He met Xavier’s glare with a dark smile, then, with one swift, brutal motion, twisted his arm until a sickening snap echoed in the still night air. The sound of breaking bone reverberated through Xavier’s skull, an unbearable shockwave of pain exploding through him as he felt his arm twist at an impossible angle, every nerve screaming in response.

Xavier’s scream tore from his throat, raw and uncontrollable, his body seizing up as the agony overwhelmed him. His pulse thundered, heart slamming in his chest, his breath coming in ragged, broken gasps. But Sylus wasn’t finished. Not yet.

The laughter above him was filled with a twisted satisfaction as Sylus watched him, his eyes glinting with a cruel pleasure. “And since you were bold enough to come here, to trespass into my domain…” Sylus paused, relishing the fear and pain etched across Xavier’s face. “A broken leg should round out the lesson nicely, don’t you think?”

Xavier barely registered the words before another wave of agony hit. Sylus’s iron grip latched onto his leg, fingers wrapping around his thigh like a vice, squeezing with unnatural strength. With a swift, brutal twist, Sylus snapped the bone with an almost casual ease, as though he were breaking a twig.

The jagged edges of shattered bone grated against each other, tearing through muscle, and another scream ripped from Xavier’s throat, louder and more desperate than the last. His vision went white, the pain drowning out every thought, every memory, as his world narrowed to the unbearable agony radiating from his broken limbs.

He gasped, trying to force air into his lungs, his entire body trembling as he fought to remain conscious. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the blood smeared from his broken nose. His thoughts, disjointed and scattered, latched onto you—your face, your laugh, the warmth of your smile. He whispered into the darkness, barely a breath. “Fucking…monster”

As he began to fade, Sylus leaned down, his face mere inches from Xavier’s, his breath hot against his ear. “Live with this, Xavier,” he murmured, his voice dripping with malice. “Every time you think of her, remember this moment. Remember that you were powerless. Remember who she belongs to now.”

With one final, brutal kick to Xavier’s ribs, Sylus straightened, his face contorting into a look of distaste as he glanced back toward the door and the smeared blood marking the pristine glass. He dusted off his hands with an air of cold satisfaction, then turned to the shadows where Luke and Kieran waited, both silent but watching with morbid interest.

“Luke, Kieran,” Sylus called over his shoulder, his voice sharp and commanding. “Clean up this mess,” he gestured to the bloody smears on the window. “The sight of it disgusts me.”

The twins stepped forward without a word, their masked faces hiding any emotion as they moved to obey. Xavier could only watch, helpless and broken, his vision fading in and out as they wiped away the last traces of blood, erasing any sign of the struggle that had taken place.

Sylus turned his attention to Dr. Merrill, who stood nearby, pale and visibly shaking. “Take him back,” he instructed coolly, his eyes narrowing as he gestured dismissively at Xavier’s shattered form. “To the hospital, a ditch—I don’t care, as long as he’s out of my sight.”

Dr. Merrill swallowed hard, nodding quickly as he moved forward, his hands trembling as he leaned down to lift Xavier. As his broken body was hoisted from the ground, Xavier fought to stay awake, his mind a haze of pain and regret, his last, fractured thoughts clinging to the image of you—just out of reach, so close, and yet, impossibly far away.

Dr. Merrill struggled under the weight of Xavier’s limp form, his breaths coming in labored bursts as he adjusted his grip and hefted him into the back seat of the car. Every inch felt like a mile, every step a struggle. Xavier was heavier than he looked, and the doctor’s nerves were frayed, his mind haunted by the brutal scene that had just unfolded. He cast a fleeting glance down at Xavier’s bruised and battered face, his features twisted in unconscious pain, his mouth half-open as blood dribbled from a cut at the corner of his lip. But he said nothing. There was nothing to say, no words that could bridge the chasm of violence and fear that Sylus had just carved into the atmosphere.

With a grunt of effort, Dr. Merrill finally managed to close the door, leaning against it for a moment, his chest heaving. He glanced back toward the mansion, its dark silhouette looming against the bleak sky of the N109 Zone, a fortress of shadows and secrets. He could feel Sylus's presence lingering in the air, even though the man was out of sight. It was as if the leader of Onychinus was still watching him, gauging every movement, every breath.

He shuddered, then hurried to the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut and fumbling to start the engine. The car roared to life, and he sped away from the mansion, the gravel crunching beneath the tires. He dared a quick glance in the rearview mirror, catching sight of Xavier’s crumpled form sprawled across the backseat. Blood soaked through his clothes, staining the fabric, and for a moment, Merrill thought he might have to turn around, to plead for mercy or an alternative plan. But then he shook the thought from his mind, forcing himself to focus on the road ahead.

Minutes slipped by in a haze of darkness, the car’s interior illuminated only by the faint green glow of the dashboard lights. Xavier’s breaths came in ragged gasps, his face twitching with pain even in unconsciousness. His body was a wreck—broken ribs, dislocated joints, and the jagged agony of his shattered leg, all of it radiating through him in relentless waves. He drifted in and out of consciousness, each moment of awareness a fresh wave of suffering. The pain was a living thing, gnawing at the edges of his mind, threatening to drag him under.

At one point, the rumbling vibrations of the car jolted him back to the present, his vision swimming as he tried to piece together where he was. He realized he was in the backseat, lying awkwardly across the cushions, his head pressed against the cool window, a smear of blood staining the glass. His entire body ached with a deep, bone-deep exhaustion, and when he tried to shift, a fresh surge of pain tore through him, making him cry out.

“Don’t move,” Dr. Merrill’s voice cut through the darkness, strained but steady. “Just stay still. We’re almost at the hospital.”

Xavier barely registered the words, his mind trapped in a haze of memories and regrets. Memories flashed before him in fragments—Sylus’s taunting smile, the sound of his bones snapping like dry twigs, the way you looked, lying so peacefully on that couch while he suffered just feet away. He felt a bitter laugh bubble up in his chest, only for it to dissolve into a painful sob as his ribs protested the movement.

The car swayed around a bend, the tires thrumming against the uneven road, and Xavier squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the pain, the shame, the overwhelming sense of failure that clawed at his heart. He had been so sure, so determined to find you and take you from that place. He’d thought he could overpower Sylus, could take back what had been stolen from him. But instead, he had been reduced to this—broken and helpless, a shadow of the man he used to be.

He swallowed hard, his throat raw and tight, and as the tears slipped from the corners of his eyes, he tried to choke out a question. The words came out garbled, thick with blood and emotion, but he forced them through clenched teeth. “Is…she really…pregnant?” The question burned in his throat, each syllable laced with a desperate hope that it wasn’t true, that Sylus had lied, that this nightmare wasn’t as real as it seemed.

Dr. Merrill’s face was hidden in the shadows, but Xavier caught the tension in his posture, the way his shoulders hunched forward as if he wanted to curl in on himself. He didn’t answer right away, and the silence stretched unbearably, pressing down on Xavier’s battered chest. “You’ve got bigger issues to worry about,” the doctor finally muttered, his tone flat, evasive. “Sylus…he doesn’t give people second chances often. You should be grateful you’re getting one at all.”

The words cut through Xavier, sharp and cold, but he didn’t have the strength to argue. His mind clung to the word grateful, and a bitter laugh scraped from his throat, sending a fresh wave of pain through his broken ribs. Grateful? For what? For being allowed to live just long enough to see how utterly he’d failed?

Xavier knew Sylus wasn't being merciful. Sylus had made it very clear that he now enjoyed seeing Xavier suffer, knowing that you were locked away. Unreachable. Unattainable. Sylus reveled in the fact that he had something Xavier so desperately wanted to the point of throwing himself into danger repeatedly.

The doctor glanced back at him, his expression momentarily softening. “Look, this can stay between us,” he offered, his voice barely above a whisper. “I won’t hold what you did to me against you. I understand...loss. And I’m sorry for yours.”

The words barely registered. Xavier’s thoughts swirled, each one heavier than the last, dragging him down. His life was unraveling before him, and he couldn’t see a way to put the pieces back together. His mind flashed back to your apartment—your apartment.

The one he’d kept for you all these months, paying the rent with every scrap of money he could scrape together, even as his own life crumbled. He’d promised you that place would still be yours, that you’d always have somewhere to come back to. But now, how was he supposed to keep that promise? How was he supposed to protect anything?

He couldn’t work like this. His injuries would keep him sidelined for months, and physical therapy would drain what little savings he had left. Even if he made it through recovery, what then? Would he be able to fight again, to pick up his sword without remembering the way it felt to be broken under Sylus’s heel?

Tears slipped from his eyes, hot and unrelenting, carving paths through the blood and grime that stained his face. He bit back another sob, swallowing down the bitter taste of his own failures. The pain was a dull roar now, a constant reminder of everything he’d lost—you, his soulmate, his purpose. And as the car continued its relentless journey, he felt himself slipping again, his vision narrowing to a dark tunnel with no light at the end.

The last image in his mind was of you, lying on that couch, your face peaceful in sleep, oblivious to the hell that raged outside. He wondered what you were dreaming about. Did you think of him at all? Or had Sylus twisted even your dreams into something he could never reach? As darkness took him again, he whispered a silent apology, hoping that somehow, you’d hear it through the abyss that now separated you both.

It can't be over. He refused to believe that. Sylus could break every bone in his body but as long as you were alive he had a reason to keep trying. To keep breathing.

And then, everything went black, the ache in his chest the only thing anchoring him to the world that had become his prison.

You drifted back to consciousness slowly, the softness of the couch beneath you lulling you into a false sense of comfort. Your limbs felt heavy, and a warm, hazy grogginess clung to your mind, reluctant to let go. The quiet in the room was strangely soothing, like a lullaby still playing softly, coaxing you to stay in the safety of sleep. For a fleeting moment, it was as though you could forget everything—reality, the ever-present fear, the oppressive darkness of the N109 Zone. Just a quiet, dream-filled nap.

But then your eyes began to flutter, and reality crept back in.

The dim lighting was familiar, casting a muted glow across the room that felt too controlled, too perfect. As you blinked your eyes open, adjusting to the low light, you felt the prickle of a presence beside you, heavy and unyielding. You dared a small glance, only to find Sylus sitting there, a coin flipping between his fingers in a lazy rhythm, his eyes fixed somewhere far beyond the room, his expression unreadable.

A surge of tension jolted through you, awakening every nerve. The sleepiness vanished in an instant, replaced by a steady, growing apprehension as you took in his frame, rigid yet somehow calm, a picture of controlled power. The coin flicked up and down, catching the light, its metallic glint mesmerizing yet unsettling. You didn’t dare move, holding your breath as you watched him from beneath lowered lashes, hoping he’d remain oblivious to the fact that you’d woken.

But after a moment, he chuckled, the sound low and taunting, a dark, knowing amusement filling the room.

“I know you’re awake, sweetie,” he said, voice dripping with a kind of sinister charm. “You can open those pretty eyes back up.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you realized you’d been caught. How had he known? You thought you’d kept still, kept quiet, yet he had sensed you there, awake and aware. He hadn't even looked at you! Hesitantly, you opened your eyes fully, meeting his gaze. His lips curved into a smile, but it was the kind that made the warmth from your nap vanish entirely.

He caught the coin one last time, fingers gripping it firmly as he leaned toward you, his eyes gleaming with something that sent a shiver down your spine. “Enjoy your nap?” he asked, the question deceptively casual.

You forced yourself to sit up, feigning ease, and nodded, willing your voice to remain steady. “Yeah…it was nice,” you replied carefully. “Guess I needed more sleep.”

“Hmm,” he murmured, his gaze assessing as his fingers moved to the top of your head, smoothing down your hair in a way that felt more possessive than tender. “No need to lie about sleeping well, honey. If you’re having trouble sleeping, I’ll take care of it. Pregnancy can be brutal on sleep. I’ll make sure we find something safe to help.”

His words were soft, coaxing, but they left you feeling more trapped than ever. You gave him a small, polite smile, praying it looked sincere as he lingered, his fingers stilling on your head in a gesture that felt heavy with intent. You stared down at the coin now lying on the table, its shiny surface catching in the dim light. It was a distraction, something to focus on to avoid the depth of his gaze.

Sylus, however, wasn’t easily distracted. He caught your subtle evasion, fingers slipping from your hair to your shoulder, where he squeezed lightly, pulling you closer to him. You fought the urge to shrink away, his warmth pressing against you like a weight, binding you in place.

There was an edge to him right now, a tension beneath his calm exterior, and it was palpable in the stillness. You swallowed, gathering your nerves, and decided to take a risk. If he was tense, maybe showing some concern could deflect his attention from you. Play more into the lie that you were starting to care for him. It was worth a try, even if the thought twisted in your stomach.

“Are you…okay?” you asked, voice soft, almost hesitant. You let a hint of worry lace your tone, hoping he’d believe the concern. “You seem…tense.”

A small, almost forced smile curved his lips, and he tilted his head, considering you. “Just had a pest to take care of,” he said, dismissing the matter as though it were nothing. He gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze, a gesture that felt possessive rather than comforting, as if to remind you of exactly where you were and who controlled your movements.

The word hung in the air, colder than the dim, heavy silence that followed. A pest. The way he said it made something twist uncomfortably in your stomach. Sylus had a habit of using simple words to mask what were often dark realities, a trick that had haunted you since he’d taken you away. A pest could mean anything, but knowing Sylus, it was likely something—or someone—he had dispatched without a second thought.

"Ah...a pest. Sorry to hear," you murmur, forcing a calm you don’t quite feel. Your stomach tightens with nerves as you say it, your mind racing with dark imaginings of what "pest" could mean in Sylus’s world. More than likely, he’d snuffed someone’s life with the very same hands now touching you with such tenderness. You try to ignore the uneasy chill that creeps up your spine, reminding yourself to stay composed, to keep up the act. This was all a role, after all—anything to stay safe.

Seeking a distraction, you lean over and tap at Sylus's watch, catching sight of the sleek design and polished metal that glints under the faint room light. You hadn’t really noticed it before, but it’s clearly an expensive piece, crafted with meticulous detail. It feels out of place, almost surreal, like every bit of luxury around you.

"What time is it?" you ask, squinting toward the window by the door. The murky darkness beyond is a constant reminder of where you are, a place utterly devoid of sunlight. A twinge of longing rises in your chest. God, what you would give just to see a single sliver of sunlight breaking through.

Sylus glances down at the watch, his face calm. "About 1 p.m. You were out for quite a while." There’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "Falling asleep watching cooking shows, no less. You like to cook?"

You resist the urge to scoff. He was already familiar with the answer; wasn’t that part of the game here? Sylus had made it clear how obsessively he’d studied every aspect of your life, leaving you feeling as if your own likes and dislikes, your small joys, were now mere facts in some twisted report he kept on you.

"Shouldn’t you already know?" you quip, trying to keep the bitterness from slipping into your tone. "You said yourself you knew everything about me. Probably know how many individual eyelashes I have too," you joke lightly, masking the irritation with a forced smile.

Sylus chuckles, his laughter rich and genuine, as if truly entertained by your comment. "And if I do?" he replies, his voice both playful and unsettling.

You turn to meet his gaze, surprised at the directness of his response. There’s a glint in his eye, a hint of something that sends a shiver through you, even though you do everything to hide it.

"Well then…you’re even more dedicated than I thought," you say, injecting a light, teasing note into your voice and forcing a soft smile. It feels strange, twisting words meant to hint at gratitude when a far sharper, less flattering term is on the tip of your tongue.

Dedicated wasn’t the word. Obsessed, maybe. Possessive, definitely. But that wouldn’t fit the part you had to play. Not if you were going to keep him in the dark about your true thoughts and intentions. You couldn’t afford to slip, not even once. The only chance at freedom you had was through manipulation, and the only way that would work was if you sold every lie as though you believed it with your whole heart.

Playing along—making him believe you wanted to be here, that you were coming around to his twisted idea of a life together—was your only shot. Every smile, every touch had to look real. It was a dance you had to perform perfectly if you wanted him to lower his guard, to let you see enough of this place to understand it. And if you could do that, if you could slowly, carefully, find your way through this labyrinth of a mansion, then maybe you could plan an escape. It was a desperate hope, but it was all you had.

Besides, you’d only seen a fraction of the mansion—enough to know it was enormous, enough to know it was a maze you had to learn. There was no way you could get out of here without knowing every detail, every exit, and he had left you with only fragments to work from.

"Sylus," you begin, voice softer now, as though you’re testing the waters. "I’ve been here awhile, but I’ve only really seen the living room, the dining hall, the nursery, and…well, your room." You force your gaze downward, channeling an innocence you don’t feel, hoping it’s enough to mask the sharp edge of your true intentions. Asking for more access felt like dancing on a knife's edge—one wrong word, and you’d be locked in that room again, losing even the small amount of freedom he’d permitted.

“That’s very true,” he replies, his voice laced with curiosity. He tilts his head slightly, his eyes narrowing just a bit, his gaze a silent demand to continue. "What are you getting at, kitten?"

You take a breath, willing the nerves away, and look toward him with a careful, hopeful expression. Showtime. You reach for his hands, gently taking them in yours, and give a small, almost timid squeeze. His hands are warm, large, and hold yours with an easy authority that you ignore.

"Well…" You give a slight, shy smile. "Since I’m going to be raising a baby here, don’t you think I should know what the rest of the house looks like? We’ll need to babyproof everything, anyway." You let out a soft laugh and force your best smile, even as your heart races.

"Please?"

He says nothing at first, just studies your face, every detail of it, his expression unreadable. His silence stretches, stretching long enough to send a cold trickle of doubt through you, your skin prickling as you try to read him. His hands hold yours steadily, and though his grip isn’t harsh, there’s a firmness there, a controlled strength that keeps you from pulling back.

Then, finally, he squeezes your hands back, and you force yourself not to pull away as his gaze sharpens, amusement flashing through his eyes as he chuckles softly. “I already let you out of the room, and now you want more?” His tone is teasing, but there’s a slight edge to it, enough to remind you of how fragile your position is here, how easily he could shut this down. "Greedy, aren’t you?"

A cold sweat breaks out along your neck, and you feel your heart stutter in panic. Had you asked too soon? Had he caught onto your real intentions? You swallow the fear and press a small, apologetic laugh from your lips, tilting your head in a way you hope looks endearing.

"But," he continues, his face softening just enough to let you breathe again, "it’s hard to say no when you’re looking at me like that." His lips curve into a small, satisfied smile as he nods. “You can be a little greedy since you're pregnant, my love."

A thrill of excitement rushes through you, real and raw, breaking through the cautious pretense you’d kept so carefully crafted. For once, you don’t have to fake the spark of interest in your eyes. It was an unexpected freedom, an unsupervised look at the rest of this mansion—and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of possibility at every new detail.

“Thank you, Sylus.” The words are soft but intentionally genuine, and as you meet his gaze, you keep a veil of sincere gratitude over your excitement. You lean over and give him a small peck on the cheek, much to his surprise. He seems a little taken aback by you gratitude but gives you a gentle smile. He holds your hand firmly as he guides you down the winding hallways, the feel of his fingers entwined with yours as binding as your own resolve to see this through. With every step, you commit to memory the twists and turns of the layout, noting windows, entryways, exits—anything that might be useful.

His voice draws you from your thoughts as he gestures to the first room, pushing open the door with an easy familiarity. “Here’s the pool room,” he says, voice tinged with a hint of pride. The room opens into a spacious area filled with sleek, blue-tiled floors, a pristine pool stretching almost the entire length of the room. The water reflects the soft ambient lighting overhead, casting an inviting shimmer across the walls. The edges are rimmed with elegant stone tiling, and a series of lounge chairs are arranged nearby, as if ready to host a small group.

You try to hide the awe in your eyes as you take in the serene space. “It’s…gorgeous,” you say, turning to him with an appreciative smile. “You must spend a lot of time here?”

He nods, a small, satisfied smile on his face. “I do. It’s peaceful. Good place to clear my head.”

You allow yourself to take a few steps closer to the water’s edge, admiring the tranquility that fills the space. It almost feels like you’re somewhere else entirely, far from the tension that typically fills the house. “I can see that,” you murmur, the sound of the gentle ripples in the water almost mesmerizing.

His hand slips back into yours as he guides you out of the pool room and further down the hall. "Come, there’s more to see.”

The next door swings open into a gym, and the space is fully outfitted: weights, machines, treadmills, and even a boxing ring nestled in the far corner. Your eyes widen, taking in the variety of equipment and the sheer dedication that must have gone into curating the room. The walls are a stark black, the floor a clean, polished tile that gleams under the overhead lights. Every detail speaks of intensity and focus, a place meant for honing skill and strength.

“So, you really don’t skimp on fitness,” you remark, glancing over at him with a raised brow. “The boxing ring and everything?”

He chuckles, pleased by your reaction. “Of course. It’s important to stay in shape, to keep my strength up.” He leads you to the edge of the ring, tapping the ropes lightly. “You box, too?” you ask, your curiosity piqued.

He grins, almost mischievously. “Its just a hobby, nothing serious. A way to pass the time.”

You nod, letting your gaze drift around the room, mentally cataloging every angle and piece of equipment. Sylus watches you, his face alight with satisfaction, seeming to enjoy the reaction he’s evoking. “I’m impressed,” you reply, layering your words with genuine-sounding admiration, hoping it masks your true purpose. “Will you teach me sometime, Sy?”

He raises an eyebrow, looking amused, and after a thoughtful pause, nods. “Why not? After our little one arrives, I’ll show you everything I know.”

The mention of the baby jolts through you, your stomach tightening. You had been pushing the thought to the back of your mind, burying it beneath everything else—but it seemed Sylus had no intention of letting you forget. Not for a moment.

"Right…thank you,” you manage to say, hoping he doesn’t sense the slight tremor in your voice. “This place is exquisite.”

He hums in agreement before guiding you toward the exit, back into the hallway. “You’ll see. There’s a lot here. A place for everything.”

He pauses by the next door, a slight glint of amusement in his eyes as he opens it. The room that greets you is completely unexpected—a wide, empty space with mirrored walls, hardwood floors, and… a dance pad. Your surprise must be evident because he chuckles softly, closing the door behind you both.

“A dance pad?” you ask, not quite able to hide the surprise in your voice. “I didn’t peg you for a dancer.”

He gives a low chuckle, crossing his arms as he watches your reaction. “Everyone has their quirks, I suppose.”

Unable to resist, you step onto the smooth floor, glancing down at the pad. It’s a pristine set-up, clearly well-kept, as though someone actually uses it. You glance back at him, eyebrows raised. “So…do you actually use this?” You try to keep the amusement out of your tone, but it slips through, your curiosity genuine.

He shakes his head, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. “No, not often. It was more of an impulse purchase than anything. You're free to use it if you like though, kitten.”

Suppressing a laugh, you glance away, imagining him using the dance pad, and it’s almost too much to picture him doing anything other than exuding control. You shake your head lightly, turning back to him. “Well, I’ll have to take your word for it.”

He grins, clearly enjoying your surprise, before he takes your hand and guides you back out into the hallway. As you move further down, your curiosity piqued by every turn and every new door, a question nags at you.

“Where do Luke and Kieran stay?” you ask, trying to keep your tone casual, like a question borne out of simple curiosity.

“They don’t live here,” he replies easily, glancing down at you with a slight smirk. “But they aren’t far. Close enough if they’re needed. They spend quite a bit of time here though.”

You nod, filing the information away. So, they don’t stay here, but they’re close. It’s another detail you could use, another fact that might mean something if an opportunity arose.

The next room Sylus opens is another surprise: a comfortable, cozy space filled with large bookshelves and plush seating, much more inviting than the rest of the mansion’s cold, grandiose design. The contrast is startling, and you can’t help but admire the warm tones of the wood, the elegant lighting that casts soft shadows on the walls.

“This is the library,” he explains, watching your reaction closely. “You’re welcome to use it whenever you want.”

Your gaze lingers on the spines of the books, taking in the range of genres and titles. “It’s beautiful,” you murmur, genuine awe slipping into your voice. It’s the first place that actually feels…relaxing. A place you could lose yourself in for hours, escape within these walls even if only in the pages of a book.

He seems pleased by your reaction, and you make sure to keep the interest visible on your face, your fingers brushing over the backs of the books as you take it all in. The space here feels safe in a way the other rooms didn’t, the chaos of your current reality somehow held at bay in this quiet sanctuary.

But, as always, Sylus’s presence is a constant reminder, and the grip he keeps on your hand pulls you back into reality as he leads you out once more, your newfound sense of calm quickly dissipating.

As you stroll through the shelves, another thought begins to form in your mind. There had to be thousands of books, perhaps this library held one small thing that could genuinely be useful to you: knowledge. Knowledge about this pregnancy, about what exactly your body was going through.

And maybe...what to "avoid".

Your steps slow just a bit, feigning hesitation. “Sylus,” you begin, glancing up at him, letting your tone be soft but curious, “do you have any books about pregnancy in here? I’d like to know more about what’s happening. In my body.”

The request seems to please him, a subtle glint of pride crossing his face as he gives a small nod. “I thought you might ask eventually,” he replies, his voice a mixture of amusement and interest. “Wait here.”

He gestures toward a chair tucked into the alcove near the end of the library, and you settle into it, watching him disappear into the labyrinth of shelves with purposeful strides. Left alone in the stillness, you allow yourself a quick scan of the area, but see nothing of interest, save for the distant rows of books and that familiar, heavy silence. Everything here is so perfectly curated, so precisely arranged, and yet, as much as you try to distract yourself, the tension gnawing at your thoughts feels sharper now.

Time drags on, each minute stretching painfully as you sit in silence, your mind a whirlwind of nerves and planning. Eventually, you hear his approaching footsteps, and soon, Sylus reappears, carrying a neat stack of hardcovers, his lips curved in a slight smile.

“Here we go,” he says, setting the stack down on the table beside you. He steps back, folding his arms as he watches your reaction with that familiar, intense interest. “Everything you could need, or want to know” he adds, pride in his voice.

“Thank you,” you say, trying to sound genuinely grateful as you reach for the first book. You glance down at the cover—The Stages of Pregnancy: A Month-by-Month Guide—and flip it open with a careful hand, as if you’re handling something fragile. “It’ll be good to know what to expect, right?” you add, glancing up at him with what you hope looks like a soft smile.

"Of course,” he replies, his gaze settling on you in that thoughtful way that makes your skin prickle. “I can make accommodations for whatever you need, but understanding it for yourself…well, I imagine that would make this feel easier for you.”

You nod, flipping slowly through the pages, half skimming, half pretending to read. Then, as if by chance, your gaze snags on a paragraph labeled, “Seven Weeks: The Size of a Blueberry.” The words catch in your mind, sticking like unwelcome thorns.

“Oh…here,” you murmur, tracing the line with your finger. “It says here that the baby is the size of a blueberry or a grape right now.” The words feel strange, almost surreal coming out of your mouth, as if they’re someone else’s. You force a calm expression as you look back up at Sylus, noting the gleam of satisfaction and…tenderness? In his eyes. This was real to him, more real than you ever could have anticipated.

“How cute” he murmurs, as though savoring the thought. He moves closer, settling into the chair beside you, a shadow of reverence on his face as he leans just a bit nearer. His hand instinctively reaches toward you, hovering near your shoulder, but he draws it back just as quickly.

“Yes…fascinating,” you murmur, glancing back down at the book, feigning a smile even as your stomach twists with something colder. It was all too real now, this moment—a growing reminder of the life you were both creating and dreading, one as small as a berry yet powerful enough to bind you here.

You keep turning the pages, scanning over every single line for something specific—anything about foods to avoid, medications, activities that might be dangerous, anything that might provide some small escape route. But the bright, pastel pages offer only endless suggestions for a “healthy, positive pregnancy experience.” Each book is filled with joyful phrases and soft illustrations, almost too perfect, like something out of a surreal nightmare. With each turn of the page, frustration bubbles up, mingling with something darker.

You try the next book, then another. There’s no sign of precautions or restrictions, just more idealized depictions of the “bonding” process. As you flip through the final book, a sickening realization settles in: several sections are conspicuously missing. You can see the faint edges where pages were once bound, but they’ve been removed. Ripped out.

Your pulse quickens, anger twisting in your stomach, but you keep your face calm, still as you look at Sylus. His gaze is fixed on you, warm and utterly calm, as though he’s waiting to see how you’ll react. You can feel him studying every move, every expression, savoring this unspoken game of power.

Clearing your throat, you gather your composure and flash a small, questioning smile, doing your best to sound innocently curious. “I’m finding a lot of do’s in these books,” you say softly, each word carefully measured, “but not a lot of don’ts. Are these…outdated?”

His response is immediate, his gaze never wavering. His lips curve into a slight, indulgent smile. “Not at all. I know exactly what you should avoid,” he says smoothly, his voice dripping with authority masked in reassurance. “So there’s no need to worry your little head about it, sweetie.” He’s almost mocking you, a trace of condescension slipping through the veneer of warmth. He sees straight through your question and wants you to know it.

Your fingers tighten around the book, knuckles white as you force your face to remain neutral. Inside, fury claws at you, tearing at every last thread of restraint. He’s so smug, so confident in his control over you, that he doesn’t even pretend otherwise. Of course, he’s thought ten steps ahead, torn out every page that could’ve hinted at ways to “accidentally” sabotage this pregnancy. He’s made sure that you have no means of escape, no options except the ones he allows.

But you swallow your anger, fighting back the venom you want to spit back at him. Instead, you let your expression soften, tilting your head as if his words have comforted you. Your voice comes out sweet, too sweet, the way he wants to hear it. “I trust you, Sylus. Thank you.”

He seems pleased with your response, and as he reaches out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face, you resist the urge to recoil. Inside, a storm is raging, but you keep your mask firmly in place, knowing it’s the only power you have left.

Sylus stops just before the door, a small, teasing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “There’s still one more area to show you,” he says, his tone casual, though there’s a spark of something knowing in his eyes. “Although, you’ve likely seen it already.”

Your heart skips, and you swallow hard. Of course, he’s talking about the horse track. The last place you saw in your frantic escape attempt. Instantly, memories flash before you: scrambling over the fence, the desperate pull in your muscles as you fought for freedom, only to be dragged back into his world. The bitter taste of that night lingers in your mind, and you force yourself to blink it away, to ignore the cold chill that grips you as he opens the door and leads you outside.

When you step into the expansive back area, it’s breathtaking. The open area stretches out endlessly, perfectly groomed, dotted with white flowers swaying gently in the breeze. The massive oak trees create a picturesque frame, and the fence, glinting in the muted moonlight, is unmistakably taller, as if mocking you with its new height. It’s beautiful, undeniably so, a luxurious landscape that, if it weren’t for your current reality, might have seemed like a dream. A taunt.

"How are these plants and trees growing without sunlight Sylus?" you ask, eyeing the flowers.

"They're fake. Plants have a hard time growing here. I ship grass regularly for the horses to graze on along with their other meals" he replies.

How thoughtful of him. At least he seems to care about the horses wellbeing. You can't help but wonder how healthy it is for a horse to go without sunlight exposure though.

Sylus’s voice breaks through your thoughts, calling your attention to the horses lined up in their stalls, majestic creatures with shiny, well-groomed coats. He introduces each of them by name—Eclipse, Fenwick, Zephyr, and Ambrosia. The names are as unique as they are, and he strokes each horse’s neck with a gentleness that surprises you. Despite yourself, you can’t help but marvel at them, nodding as he explains each horse’s quirks with a level of affection that seems almost out of place. “Beautiful horses,” you murmur, hoping the sincerity sounds genuine, though a part of you can’t shake the irony of admiring the very place that had denied you freedom.

Just then, a soft “meow” sounds at your feet, snapping you from your thoughts. You glance down and blink in surprise. There, staring up at you with curious green eyes, is a small, fluffy black cat. And another, slinking out from behind a bale of hay. Then another, and another—until nearly ten cats have surrounded you, their little heads tilting as they examine the new arrival.

“Oh, must be lunchtime.” Sylus’s tone is amused as he steps over to the stall, pulling out a few cans of wet food. He methodically opens them, setting them out as the cats swarm around his feet, purring and meowing in eager anticipation.

“Are these your cats, Sy?” you ask, surprised at the softness in your own voice as you watch him tend to them. You curse yourself the second the nickname slips out. Too familiar. Too comfortable. But Sylus just smiles, scratching a particularly bold tabby behind its ears.

“I wouldn’t say mine, exactly,” he replies, casting a glance down at the cats as they rub against his legs, eager for attention. “One of them showed up hungry one day, jumped the fence somehow, so I fed him. Guess he told his friends and family about the food, and they just…kept coming back.”

You watch him, taken aback by the sight of your captor, the man who so meticulously controls your every movement, giving such easy affection to a stray cat. You can feel your thoughts churning, grasping for some understanding, but it only raises more questions. He chuckles as a few more cats join the others, and he pauses to scratch the head of a scruffy gray one, speaking softly to it in a way that nearly—nearly—makes him seem human.

And though you force yourself to keep the façade, to act gracious and grateful, inside you’re cursing the twisted mix of emotions that this moment stirs up.

You can’t help but find it ironic. Sylus, the man who controls everything—down to the lock on your ankle chain—claims he doesn’t “own” the cats, says they can come and go freely. Yet here you are, under his roof and his rule, with freedom as unreachable as the sun in the N109 Zone.

The words are on the tip of your tongue, the urge to point out the hypocrisy flickering in your mind, but you bite them back. No, this isn’t the time to speak your thoughts. Instead, you kneel down, reaching out to one of the cats, a scrappy little tabby with one bright, curious eye and the other an empty, scarred socket. The cat leans into your hand, purring deeply as you scratch beneath its chin, its coarse fur oddly comforting beneath your fingertips.

“Looks like Cooper likes you,” Sylus observes, his gaze never straying from you.

“Cooper,” you echo, glancing up briefly, your voice softer than you intended. You try to focus on the rough little creature in your hands, letting its simple contentment distract you. If only you could just walk away, like this little one could if he wished.

Sylus watches you, and for a brief moment, there’s a hint of something softer in his eyes, as if he’s reading your thoughts. He kneels down beside you, his hand brushing over Cooper’s head, and you can feel his attention as if it were a weight pressing on you. You force yourself to keep petting the cat, willing yourself to stay calm, to keep up the act, to smile and nod.

If only he knew.

Sylus’s eyes are on you, his gaze smoldering, heavy with admiration that borders on obsession. The intensity in his stare prickles your skin, and heat rises in your cheeks, unbidden and unwelcome. You avert your eyes, hoping to temper the rush of nerves fluttering through you, feeling suddenly small under the weight of his attention.

“Y-yes?” The question comes out shaky, barely a whisper, as you force yourself to meet his gaze, but only briefly. It’s like looking directly at the sun—captivating, but dangerous. You can’t seem to keep the heat from creeping up your neck, burning hotter as his eyes soften, a smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re just… so beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning closer. His words are a gentle caress, brushing against every shield you’ve tried to raise, slipping past them, finding their way in despite your efforts to stay detached. Before you can react, he closes the distance, his mouth pressing softly against yours, the warmth and possessiveness in his kiss dizzying. You feel his hand cradle your face, his fingers brushing against your cheek with a tenderness that feels almost surreal, given the suffocating reality of your situation.

Your heart pounds wildly, and an ache settles low in your chest, a dangerous stirring of emotion you refuse to entertain. You try to focus elsewhere, force yourself to stay vigilant, to keep your mind away from the way his lips move against yours. As if on instinct, your eyes drift over his shoulder, searching for anything to ground you.

Then, you see it—a dark red smear in the dirt, barely visible against the shadows by one of the horse stalls. Your stomach drops, and an icy chill cuts through the haze Sylus has drawn you into. A strange fear seeps into your thoughts, sharpening them, pulling you out of the moment and rooting you back into the grim reality of your circumstances.

“Sylus…” You pull back, voice soft, your words catching slightly. “Did one of the horses…get hurt?” Your eyes linger on the spot of blood, every nerve on edge as you try to mask the growing tension inside you.

Sylus’s gaze follows yours, his expression flickering from surprise to something darker, something almost guarded. The ease in his expression evaporates, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assesses the bloodstain. For a second, you think you see irritation flash across his face before he smooths it over with a small, unreadable smile.

“Hm,” he hums, tilting his head thoughtfully, though the tightness in his posture betrays his calm facade. “I don’t think so. Must be from that pest I mentioned earlier.” His voice is casual, but there’s a coldness behind the words, a dangerous edge that makes you wonder what—or rather who—he might consider a “pest.” He straightens, his expression closing off, but the darkness in his eyes lingers, unspoken but unmistakable.

“I’ll have the twins take care of it,” he adds, his tone light, almost dismissive, though you can sense the faintest trace of something far more sinister hidden beneath it. He turns back to you, and the ease returns to his expression, but now it feels forced, like a carefully practiced mask that he’s used countless times before.

The words settle uneasily in your chest, and you feel a prickle of fear creep down your spine as his thumb traces lazy circles over your knuckles. He’s watching you with an intensity that feels as if it could peel away the layers of your facade if you’re not careful, and you force yourself to keep your expression neutral, to mask the suspicion and dread swirling inside you.

“Alright,” you murmur softly, forcing a smile as your gaze meets his once more, masking the apprehension twisting in your gut. The words feel hollow, but you hope they’re enough to placate him, to make him believe that his secrets are safe, that you’re not questioning every word that slips from his lips.

Yet even as you stand there, his hand enveloping yours in a feigned gesture of reassurance, the sight of the bloodstain is burned into your mind. It serves as a bitter reminder of the truth he’s tried to obscure beneath smiles and whispered promises, and as you feign gratitude, you know you can’t afford to let your guard down. Not now. Not ever.

Sylus stood and stretched after some time, allowing a lazy smile to spread across his face as he took a final look around the open space and the warm, purring cats at your feet. He watched you, savoring the barely concealed disappointment that flickered across your face as he said, “Alright, time for us to get back inside for lunch.”

You hesitated, casting a glance at the cats lounging contentedly near you, one or two curling around your ankles as if to say goodbye. “I’ll miss them,” you murmured, reaching down to scratch the ear of a sleek black one with a torn ear. The small admission tugged at something in Sylus, a reminder that despite the careful guard you kept up, moments like these were still real.

But then his gaze shifted to the faint red stain in the dirt, and his smile slipped, just for a second. Xavier had been as stubborn as he’d expected. Unruly, unpredictable, and unwilling to admit defeat. The faint bruise on Sylus's knuckles was a testament to that. He’d told himself that dealing with Xavier would bring him a sense of closure, and it had—to an extent. Yet, seeing you look at the stain, asking about it, he couldn’t deny a small twinge of irritation. He didn’t want you dwelling on anything to do with Xavier, knowingly or not. That chapter was supposed to be closed, shut tight, and locked away.

Still, he chuckled inwardly. You, and your quiet persistence, had become more fascinating than he’d anticipated. The bloodstain bothered you; he could see it in the way you looked at him, the veiled questions in your eyes. He tried his best reassure you, convince you that it didn’t matter. And yet, there was a small ache in his heart in the way you looked at him, unsure if you could trust his words. For him, your little glances and careful words only reinforced that you were still a work in progress, no matter how much of an act you tried to put on for him.

As you leaned down to pet one of the stray cats, he felt a strange pang. There was something almost serene in how you looked at the cat, how gently your fingers brushed against its fur. He could understand why the cats returned to his estate; they were loyal to the hand that fed them but still roamed freely, unbound. A thought flickered in his mind—a parallel he quickly dismissed.

“What are you thinking?” he found himself asking, and though his voice was calm, he watched you closely, searching for any sign of defiance, any glimpse of the real thoughts he knew you held back.

“Just…that the cats seem happy here,” you replied softly, and while the words were polite, almost indifferent, he could see something sharper, a glint of anger hidden in the depths of your gaze. He had no doubt you’d drawn the comparison to your own situation.

He smirked, feeling a surge of amusement as he leaned in closer, letting his fingers brush against your hand, a possessive gesture. “They come and go, sure,” he murmured, his tone deliberately soft, intimate. “But they always come back, don’t they?”

You didn’t respond, and he could see the faint tension in your shoulders as you continued petting the cat, carefully avoiding his gaze. He let the silence stretch, enjoying the subtle power play, the dance of control between the two of you. The thought lingered—just how long would you keep fighting? How long until you finally accepted the life he was giving you?

He didn’t miss the way your shoulders softened, a subtle release of tension, though whether it was from the promise of food or the chance to put distance between yourself and that bloodstain, he couldn’t say for certain. But he knew. He was perceptive, and though you’d gotten better at masking your expressions, your body still betrayed you.

He’d watched you perfect the art of masking your true thoughts, layer by careful layer. A slight upturn of the lips, a practiced smile. A flicker in your gaze that quickly gave way to feigned admiration. He couldn’t deny that a part of him was impressed, even entertained. He liked seeing you evolve like this—thoughtful, clever, adaptive. But what truly intrigued him was the innocence you projected; he enjoyed it, let himself be pulled into this game. He allowed you to feel the illusion of control, as if you were the one carefully crafting this delicate balance between resistance and affection.

He chuckled to himself, the sound low and almost indulgent. You had no idea the effect you had on him, the strings you pulled without even realizing it. And though he knew he was the one orchestrating every piece of this twisted dynamic, he let you believe otherwise. He let you think you had him fooled, that he couldn’t see through the charming glances, the coy questions, the calculated affection. And yet, despite every barrier he had, he wanted those words, that warmth from you. He wanted them to be real.

If he was honest with himself, there was a part of him that longed to be on the receiving end of genuine care from you. His hand brushed against your shoulder as he guided you back toward the house, and he found himself savoring the brief touch, however fleeting.

But he wouldn’t rush it. He would let you play this little game for a while longer, allow you to think you were the one calling the shots. And when the time came, when he shattered that delicate illusion, it would be on his terms. Until then, he would savor each exchange, each careful glance, each word that fell from your lips, real or not. You had him wrapped around your finger, whether or not you realized the full extent of it.

And the thought? It amused him.

As you entered the dining room, he noticed the subtle way you seemed to take in every detail around you—the long hallways, the faintly lit chandeliers casting warm shadows, the polished floors beneath your feet. He almost smiled to himself, watching you catalog the space, probably even the exit routes. It was cute, in a way, how careful you were being, like you could somehow memorize the layout of his entire home in one meal.

He didn’t mind. Not at all. As long as you didn't try anything.

“Here we are,” he murmured, steering you gently into the dining room, where an array of dishes already awaited. The table was lavishly spread, but not so much that it was unrecognizable—bread, fresh fruit, cold cuts, and cold drinks that filled the air with savory warmth. Sylus guided you to a seat, pulling the chair out with a small, deliberate gesture before sitting down across from you, eyes intent on your every move.

You gazed at the table, your hunger apparently winning out over the frustration he knew lingered somewhere beneath the surface. Sylus watched as you lifted your fork, that carefully composed expression settling back over your face. He allowed himself to relax, picking up his own fork and cutting into his meal, though his gaze flickered over to you with each quiet bite.

A part of him enjoyed this simple act, the mundanity of it—a normal lunch, a meal shared. Yet even in this moment, he couldn’t ignore the ever-present current of tension that ran between you. He knew you were watching, studying. You were trying so hard to give the appearance of calm. He wondered how long it would last.

As you glanced up at him, he offered a casual, almost teasing smile, leaning back in his chair as he set down his fork.

"No cold cuts for you," he said, his tone gentle but firm as he nudged the plate of cold sandwiches out of your reach. "These are grilled chicken sandwiches," he explained, sliding a different plate closer to you. "These are safer for you and our baby."

Sylus watched the subtle flicker of annoyance that flashed across your face when he moved the cold cuts out of reach. It was gone almost instantly, replaced by a polite compliance as you reached for the grilled chicken sandwiches he’d set out for you. You were getting good at masking your expressions, he had to admit. But, as usual, your body told him more than you realized—just a hint of tension in your shoulders, a subtle tightening in your jaw.

Good. You didn’t know it yet, but this tiny rebellion pleased him. He kinda liked when you revealed these small glimpses of resistance, even if they were fleeting. They reminded him of the strength you carried beneath the surface, the fire he found so enticing.

A shame he would have to shatter the illusion sooner or later.

As you picked up a slice of mango, he leaned back, taking in your careful movements, the slight restraint in your eyes. He knew you found his supervision maddening, the constant watch over every bite, every step. But he had promised himself to keep you and the baby safe, and he would see that through.

Satisfied with your obedience, he finally turned to his own plate, his appetite sharpening as he replayed the moment in his mind, savoring the small victory of your compliance. It didn’t matter if you played along reluctantly; it was the control he held over the situation that brought him ease.

Each meal like this, each time you did what he asked—no matter how begrudgingly—deepened his resolve. He’d continue to let you think you had some upper hand, that you were in control of your emotions and your reactions. But he’d always be watching, silently reveling in each little battle. For now, he’d let you play along.

Much time passed after that. Sylus could tell, even before you spoke, that your nausea had returned with a vengeance. The signs were all there: the way you held your stomach, the faint crease in your brow as you tried to mask the discomfort. He’d been through this routine with you countless times by now, keeping close by as you battled each wave. He’d spent so many hours by your side, his hands gently holding back your hair, wiping the stray strands from your face, offering a damp cloth to cool your skin afterward.

He'd tried a bunch of things to help with the sickness. Tea, medicine, even changing your diet a bit. But nothing really helped. Seems the baby was determined to give you a hard time regardless.

It surprised him sometimes, how easily he’d fallen into this role, how even your smallest needs had started to matter to him in ways he couldn’t have imagined. When you refused his help with certain things, like showering, he respected the boundary, though reluctantly. The idea of you in there alone, especially with what he knew about the later stages of pregnancy, troubled him.

He’d read in detail about the instability women often faced in their third trimesters, the sudden falls that could turn into something worse. A chill ran down his spine whenever he thought of you stumbling, unbalanced, and he was resolved to be more insistent on helping you shower when that time came. For now, though, he let you have the small distance you needed.

It was a shame you were feeling so unwell. He'd be lying if he said he didn't desire to touch you, to feel you under him again. To hear those cute, serene sounds you made when he touched you in the right places. Despite this, your health was much more important to him than satisfying any desires for sex. He could be a very patient man in the right circumstances.

Tonight, he could feel something different in the air. Your restlessness, the way you shifted in bed, never quite finding comfort. You were cuddled with the plushies he had gotten you, trying to lull yourself to sleep. You hadn’t even closed your eyes. Instead, you stared at some invisible point beyond the room, as though you were imagining yourself far away from here. He knew you often felt trapped, the unease that clouded over you whenever he locked the ankle chain in place. And yet, he couldn’t ignore the tinge of something fragile when you finally spoke up.

“Sylus…” your voice broke through the silence, almost too soft, yet enough to pull him to attention. You turned your head, glancing toward him, and he noticed the way your eyes flickered with something like hope. “I feel sick. Can I get some fresh air? Near the horse track?”

He studied you for a moment, seeing the fatigue etched into your features. He was tempted to say no, but something in your gaze held him back. There was a heaviness about you lately, a quiet sort of sadness that he couldn’t break through. It was worrying him. He didn't want you to fall back into the lifeless, emotionless state you had once slumped into. Perhaps a bit of fresh air would help. After a pause, he nodded, reaching for the lock to release the chain around your ankle, his hand lingering as he freed you.

“Alright,” he said, his voice gentle, though his eyes were watchful. He kept his gaze on you, feeling that familiar urge to follow you wherever you went. “But I’ll be right there with—”

The sharp buzz of his phone interrupted, the sound breaking the intimacy of the moment. He saw the name flashing on the screen: Dr. Merrill. A pang of irritation shot through him—this wasn’t the time, not now when he was letting you outside, even for a short time.

He hesitated, glancing between you and the phone. The call could be important, but he couldn’t ignore the flash of relief that crossed your face as you caught his nod of permission. You needed this, even if only for a few moments.

“Go on, sweetie,” he murmured, the reluctance clear in his voice. “I’ll join you shortly. Don’t get too close to the fence.”

He watched as you stepped through the doorway, your shoulders relaxing, a bit of lightness returning to your steps as you disappeared down the hall. His eyes lingered on the empty space where you’d been, the silence settling back over him as he finally lifted the phone to his ear, jaw tight. Dr. Merrill would have to choose his words carefully tonight.

“I assume he’s been dealt with already as I instructed. Why call me so late?” Sylus’s voice held a sharp edge, barely masking his irritation. He hadn’t expected to be disturbed tonight, especially with you outside, likely breathing in what you imagined was your first real taste of freedom in weeks.

A nervous cough sounded from the other end before Dr. Merrill spoke, his tone careful. “Apologies, Sylus. I’ve been keeping an eye on Xavier as you requested. He’s still bedridden, but alert, talking, and his vitals are stable. I informed him, as you wanted, that further attempts would only end worse for him. Whether he’ll listen when he’s back on his feet… well, I can’t say for certain.”

Sylus let out a low, affirmative sound, though his impatience was still evident. “Go on.”

The doctor cleared his throat again, as if gathering himself for what he had to say next. “The real reason I’m calling is that I managed to access her hospital files. Her primary doctor had been Dr. Zayne, and…” He hesitated, his voice turning grave. “It turns out she has Protocore Syndrome.”

Sylus’s grip on the phone tightened slightly. He let out a quiet sigh, massaging his forehead with his free hand. “I’m aware. And from what I’ve seen, it hasn’t given her much trouble so far. Is there something I should be concerned about now?”

The hesitation on Dr. Merrill’s end lingered longer this time. “Well… she’s around eleven weeks, nearly twelve. At that point, in most pregnancies, the risk of miscarriage starts to lower. But in her case, given the Protocore condition, I’d advise extending caution at least until eighteen weeks, if not longer. Even after the baby’s safe, her condition may present complications.”

Sylus exhaled, the words simmering, taking root in his mind. “What kind of complications?”

“Truthfully, with Protocore Syndrome, any added strain on her heart could be… detrimental. It’s been stable, sure, but we’re dealing with an unusual pregnancy, considering that your...genetics. We don’t know the full implications on her system. We should assume anything out of the ordinary could place her at higher risk. There’s a chance, Sylus, that this baby could pose a significant threat to her overall health.” Merrill’s tone was a low murmur, each word layered with caution.

Sylus processed the information slowly, his gaze shifting to where he’d last seen you walking out the door, a sudden weight settling in his chest. “And you’re telling me this now because…?”

“I just reviewed the full records. I didn’t realize until now that her heart was this vulnerable. What I’m suggesting is close monitoring—routine checkups, more frequent scans. She needs to avoid large amounts of stress, both physically and emotionally. A small amount should but fine but if things escalate, her heart could reach a breaking point. Without intervention, it could be…catastrophic.”

Sylus’s fingers drummed slowly against his leg as he listened. He’d known you were fragile, but this was something deeper. “I’ll manage it,” he replied curtly, his tone flat, concealing any hint of concern. “I know what she needs, and I’ve kept her far from anything that could jeopardize her health.”

“I understand,” Merrill said, sounding wary but accepting. “I just thought it best to warn you, considering…her life is far more delicate than you might have realized.”

Sylus was silent for a moment, his jaw tight. “I’ll take care of it, and keep me updated on everything you find out. Keep Xavier contained if he recovers.”

“Understood,” Dr. Merrill replied, his tone tense. “I’ll see to it he’s occupied if he starts asking questions.”

Ending the call, Sylus remained silent, lost in thought, eyes drifting toward the door. He would protect you—he’d make sure every aspect of your care was overseen with precision, even if it meant keeping you closer than ever before.

Deciding to check on you, Sylus lingered by the doorway, a shadow in the cold night, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene before him. There you were, crouched by the fence, your body huddled against the chill as you examined the latch with nervous, darting glances around you. You seemed entirely focused, fingers trembling slightly as they traced the cold metal, clearly debating your next move. He could see the tension in your shoulders, the way you scanned the area before testing the latch, and a simmering anger ignited within him.

It was the smallest flicker of movement that caught his attention, the way you shifted closer to the gate, cautiously as if any misstep might alert someone, but Sylus saw everything. Each anxious breath you took misted in the cold air, and though he couldn’t see your expression from behind, the very posture of your body screamed of quiet rebellion. His jaw clenched, and his hands balled into fists as he remained rooted in place, watching as you carefully lifted your hand to the lock again, trying to coax it without making a sound.

What did you think you were doing? The thought struck him sharply, but he forced himself to stay silent, letting you think, letting you believe you had gone unnoticed. You were there, so close to the boundary he'd set, so intent on testing it, and he felt an almost bitter pang of disappointment settle into his chest. There was a part of him that wanted to call out, to see your startled reaction right then, but he forced himself to stay hidden, his presence a looming reminder that you were never truly alone in this place.

As you cast another furtive glance over your shoulder, he saw the fear in your eyes, and it only fueled the growing frustration that simmered beneath his calm exterior. You were aware of the risk. You knew what might happen if you were caught, and yet here you were, caught in the very act he had warned against. His eyes narrowed, and he took a silent step forward, ready to make his presence known.

“Sweetie,” he said softly, his voice cutting through the stillness with unsettling clarity.

The sound of his voice froze you instantly, every muscle in your body going rigid as if your worst nightmare had come to life. You slowly turned, dread etched on your face as your gaze met his. You clearly hadn't heard him come up behind you. Sylus’s expression was deceptively calm, his face shadowed but his eyes glinting with a cold, controlled anger that made your breath catch.

“What were you doing?” he asked, his tone soft but laden with unmistakable irritation.

You opened your mouth to answer, but only a shaky breath came out, fear catching the words in your throat. “I…I was just…exploring,” you stammered, your voice barely more than a whisper as you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “It’s all a misunderstanding.”

He took a step closer, his gaze unwavering as he studied you. The quiet stretched between you, thick with tension, and you felt your pulse thudding in your ears as you waited for his response.

Sylus let out a slow sigh, the sound laced with disappointment rather than anger, which somehow made it all the worse. His fingers reached for his belt, and with deliberate slowness, he began to unbuckle it, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Kitten…” he murmured, his voice calm, almost pitying. “Do you remember what I said a few weeks ago about trying anything like this?”

He watches as panic surged through you as realization hit, your eyes racing wildly as his hand pulled the belt free, the leather sliding through the loops with a soft, menacing sound. You began to shake, the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as you took an involuntary step back. “Sylus…please,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I wasn’t trying to leave. I swear…I’m sorry.”

But your pleas fell on deaf ears. He only shook his head, a faint sadness in his expression as he reached down, his grip firm as he took your arm. “I’m sorry too,” he said, his voice coldly resolute. “But I have to do this until you learn.”

With that, he turned, leading you back into the house, his hand unyielding around your arm. You stumbled behind him, barely able to keep up as he guided you through the doorway and into the familiar warmth of the house. But there was no comfort in that warmth, no reprieve from the dread that coiled tighter in your chest with each step.

The living room loomed ahead, and he guided you to the couch, his grip never loosening even as he sat down, pulling you down with him. You struggled, your voice breaking as you begged him, the fear in your tone echoing in the empty room.

“Sylus please, don’t do this, I'm sorry I'm sorry!” you choked out, but he silenced you with a firm hand on your back, pushing you gently over his knee. His hand lingered there for a moment, resting just above your spine as he leaned down close, his voice a quiet murmur in your ear.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered, almost gently, as though trying to soothe a frightened child. “This is good for you. It’ll only hurt for a bit.”

He could feel your pulse pounding against him, every fiber of your being wanting to pull away, to escape his touch, but you were trapped, his hand a steady weight on your back. He gently lifted the hem of your dress, pulling down your underwear to expose the skin of your ass. You braced yourself, eyes squeezed shut as he adjusted his grip, raising the belt.

“Count them, kitten,” he said, his tone carrying an unyielding finality.

Just a little stress is fine. This was necessary. This was good.

"One..."

Smack.

"Mghn! Two..."

Smack.

"T-three..."

Your voice trembled as you forced the words out, each count a struggle as you choked back tears, the ache settling into your skin as his belt landed in steady, unrelenting strikes against the skin of your ass. Over and over, eleven times. You fought to keep your composure, to stay silent, but the pain built, each strike pushing you closer to breaking.

And all the while, he hoped his words echoed in your mind, the calm finality of his voice a reminder that, here, he held the power. That as much as you wanted to hate him, to defy him, that power loomed larger than any fleeting spark of rebellion.

Sylus’s movements were calculated as he finally loosened his grip on the belt, letting it clatter softly to the floor. He watched you, taking in the sight of you shuddering, face flushed with heat and emotion, eyes red and swollen from tears that now streaked freely down your cheeks. Each sob seemed to cut deeper into him, each tear a reminder of why he’d felt forced to take things this far. His chest tightened as he tried to push down the frustration that flickered beneath his surface calm.

“Come here,” he murmured, gently motioning for you to sit up. His tone softened, and he reached out to touch you, his hands gliding over your butt with a gentleness that seemed out of place after everything that had just happened. He could feel the heat radiating from your skin, a stark contrast to the frigid night air outside. The ache beneath his hand seemed to burn under his touch, and he rubbed slow, soothing circles over the places where the belt had struck, trying to calm the sting.

“Look at me, honey,” he whispered, his voice barely audible as he brushed his fingers beneath your chin. He gently tilted your face up, guiding your gaze back to his. Your face was a picture of heartbreak, your cheeks still wet, lips parted as you tried to catch your breath between soft, broken sobs. Even in your anger, there was a vulnerability in your eyes that made something stir within him—a part of himself he usually tried to keep at bay.

"Are you okay?"

Your silence was louder than any words, a refusal to acknowledge his question. He could feel the anger flickering behind your tears, simmering just beneath the surface. The defiance was there, mixed with something else—hurt, perhaps, or a sense of humiliation. He knew this had pushed you to a breaking point.

His thumb brushed over your cheek, catching a tear as it fell, his hand warm and steady. “I’m sorry it had to come to this, really. When we get to bed, I’ll keep rubbing where it hurts. I’ll make sure you feel better. Do you understand why I had to do it?” he asked, his voice low, almost pleading, as if he hoped his words might somehow bridge the growing chasm between you.

For a long moment, you didn’t answer, your eyes fixed on some distant point as if looking anywhere else might help you avoid the question. He could see the wheels turning in your mind, your expression flickering between hurt and resentment as you processed what had happened. The weight of it hung heavily in the air between you, a silent struggle for control.

Then, finally, a tremor seemed to pass through you, and without warning, you collapsed against his chest, a fresh wave of tears breaking free. You buried your face in the fabric of his shirt, your shoulders trembling as sobs wracked your body. “Yes. I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice muffled and raw, choked with emotion. It was as though all the walls you’d tried to build had come crashing down, leaving you vulnerable and exposed.

Sylus’s arms wrapped around you instinctively, pulling you closer as he rested his chin atop your head. For a moment, he was taken aback, unsure if this was genuine or some desperate attempt to sway him, to appeal to the part of him that still longed for your affection. But he couldn’t deny the way you clung to him, the way your fingers gripped his shirt as though holding onto him would somehow make everything right again.

The thought sent a pang through him, and he tightened his hold, letting you cry as he ran his fingers through your hair, whispering quiet reassurances. “Shh…it’s okay,” he murmured, his tone tender as he continued to hold you, his own anger and frustration melting away in the face of your pain. “It’s all over now, sweetheart. You’re forgiven.” He continued to cradle you, his hand tracing soothing patterns across your back until, slowly, your sobs began to quiet, your breathing steadying as the storm of emotion finally started to subside.

In that moment, as he held you close, he realized something unsettling—something that made his resolve weaken and his heart ache with a mixture of frustration and longing. No matter how much he wanted to control you, to bend your will to his, there was a small part of him that didn’t want to see you break completely.

Sylus sat there, feeling the warmth of your body pressed against his, a dark, unsettling question wormed its way into his mind: How far could he take this? How far could he go before the fragile balance he maintained shattered completely, leaving only resentment and pain between you both?

In his mind, he'd always believed that every boundary he pushed, every small piece of control he gained, would draw you closer, like a force so magnetic that eventually, you'd stop fighting the life he had built. And yet, with each test, each punishment, he felt the weight of his own actions pulling him somewhere he hadn’t planned. Somewhere he couldn’t entirely control.

He looked down at you, slumped against him, eyes closed and cheeks streaked with drying tears, and he felt that familiar conflict twist in his chest. He'd gotten what he wanted, hadn't he? Obedience. An apology. A soft, vulnerable moment in his arms. But as he held you, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the edges of your shoulders, he couldn’t ignore the pang of doubt. He’d pushed you, molded you, cornered you—yet for what? And where was the line?

As he continued to hold you, he felt that question linger, a shadow that darkened the quiet victory of this moment. The way you’d collapsed against him, seeking comfort from the very hands that had brought you to tears, stirred something that felt like satisfaction, yes but also like an ache. He wanted you to be his, truly, willingly—but every step seemed to make him worry that you were being pushed further from that goal, leaving him to wonder if he was only chasing an illusion.

How far could he take this? He didn’t know. But in that quiet space, with you leaning against him, the thought felt less like power and more like a small, ache of sadness in his chest.

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