#i just dont know him like i know the others | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heejamas · 3 days ago

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nicest guy: 33. the premiere

word count: 15k words (sorryyyy….againnnn) warnings: MDNI!!!!!! explicit sexual content. petnames, spanking, unprotected sex (dont do it!!!!), softdom! sunghoon, softdom!jake, all the fucking lot. spoiler alert im so sorry…… thank you…… prev | masterlist | next

You’re still adjusting your dress in the mirror when there’s a knock at your door. Three short taps, casual but expectant. You already know who it is. You smooth your hands down the fabric one last time, inhaling deeply before opening the door.

Jake stands there, leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets, dressed in an all-black suit that fits him almost unfairly well. His hair is styled just enough to look effortless, and the way he’s looking at you, all wide eyes and slow grin, makes your stomach flip.

“Fuck. Wow.” His voice is almost reverent, his gaze dragging over you from head to toe. “You look insane. Like, actually. This should be illegal.”

You cross your arms, leaning against the doorframe just to make things difficult for him. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

Jake’s grin sharpens, his dimples showing as he leans in slightly, his voice dropping. “I can think of a few things.”

Your heart stutters for a second, but you keep your expression unimpressed. “Yeah? Too bad we have somewhere to be.”

“Five minutes won’t kill anyone,” he argues, slipping past you with ease, closing the door behind him. He barely gives you time to react before his hands find your waist, pulling you in like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His cologne is distracting, all warmth and spice, and his lips are just close enough to be dangerous.

“You’re trouble,” you murmur, your hands finding his shoulders.

“I could say the same about you.”

And then he kisses you, slow and teasing at first, before he deepens it, his fingers pressing into your back like he’s trying to memorize the feeling of you. He tastes like mint and something sweeter, something distinctly Jake, and it’s so easy—too easy—to melt into him.

But you don’t, not fully. You pull back, breathless, pressing a finger to his chest. “Jake.”

“Mm?” His lips chase yours like he’s not done yet.

“We have to go.”

He exhales dramatically, resting his forehead against yours for a second before finally pulling away. “Fine. But only because I don’t want Niki to yell at me for being late.”

The hotel ballroom where the premiere is being held is overwhelming the second you step inside. Warm lighting, sleek decor, champagne flutes in every direction. The kind of event where everyone is too cool to be fazed by the sheer number of celebrities in one place.

Jake keeps a hand on the small of your back as you walk in, like he’s worried you might disappear in the crowd. He greets a few people, nods at some others, but the second he spots Niki, his entire demeanor shifts.

Niki is standing near the center of the room, flanked by Yeonjun and a handful of other people you don’t immediately recognize. He’s holding a drink and talking animatedly, gesturing wildly like he’s in the middle of the most important story of his life. The second he sees you and Jake, his face lights up.

“There you are!” He waves you over, practically bouncing on his heels. “Finally. Thought you guys were gonna ditch me.”

“You think I’d miss this?” Jake grins, clapping a hand on Niki’s shoulder. “Big night, man.”

Niki gestures to the chaos around him. “Yeah, it’s pretty fucking insane. I saw Taylor Swift like ten minutes ago and almost passed out.”

You blink. “Wait, she’s actually here?”

“Of course she is, dude. It's her movie.” Niki shrugs. “She's probably somewhere being cooler than all of us combined.”

Jake stands beside you, his hand resting lightly on your back as the party swirls around you. The room is a blur of sequins, designer suits, and industry elites, but his attention is locked on you.

Sunoo arrives first, all bright energy and perfectly styled hair, Gigi right beside him in a dress that probably costs more than your rent. Woonhak follows, looking vaguely overwhelmed but excited. “Oh my God, there he is,” Sunoo gasps dramatically. “The man of the hour.”

Jake laughs. “You mean Niki? Pretty sure he’s the man of the hour.”

“No,” Gigi corrects. “He means you.”

“Yeah,” Sunoo adds, pointing between you and Jake. “We’ve been hearing a lot about you.”

Jake gives you a playful glance. “All good things, I hope?”

Jake, ever the charmer, is unfazed. He chats with them easily, slipping into the conversation like he’s always been part of your world. You watch as he makes them laugh, throwing in casual compliments and effortlessly winning them over.

After a few minutes, you catch sight of Jungwon and Jay arriving. “I’m gonna go say hi to them,” you tell Jake, placing a hand on his arm. “I’ll be right back.”

He nods, squeezing your fingers briefly. “Don’t take too long.”

You weave through the crowd toward Jungwon and Jay, both looking effortlessly put together. Jungwon spots you first, his face lighting up. When you reach them, your brother pulls you into a quick hug. “We had a tie problem.” His gaze turns to Jay, who is silently laughing.

You glance toward the bar. “I was actually about to grab a drink. You guys want anything?”

Jay shakes his head. “Sunghoon already went to get ours.”

Of course he did.

You nod, excusing yourself before heading toward the bar. As you approach, you spot Sunghoon leaning against the counter, one hand resting casually on the surface while the other holds a drink. His suit fits perfectly, sharp lines and effortless confidence, the deep navy fabric complementing his complexion in a way that makes your thoughts stray into dangerous territory. The open collar of his dress shirt reveals just enough skin to make you swallow harder than you’d like, and the sleek styling of his hair only sharpens the cocky smirk he wears when he notices you approaching.

“What a coincidence,” he muses, tilting his glass slightly in your direction. “You following me, sweetheart?”

You roll your eyes, masking the way your pulse quickens. “You wish.”

He tilts his head, letting his gaze drag over you in that slow, deliberate way that makes your skin heat. “Maybe I do.”

Your throat goes dry, but you refuse to let it show. “Shouldn’t you be taking those drinks back to your friends?”

He smirks, swirling the liquid in his glass lazily. “They can wait. Besides, looks like you could use a distraction.”

You scoff, leaning against the bar beside him, trying not to focus on how close he is. “You think you’re that distracting?”

Sunghoon leans in slightly, his voice dropping to that infuriatingly smooth register that always makes the air between you shift. “I know I am.”

You hate that he’s right. But you hate even more how much you don’t want to walk away.

He studies you for a moment before raising a brow. “So, how’s Jake?”

The question catches you off guard, but you recover quickly. “He’s talking to Sunoo, Giselle, and Woonhak.” You pause, then glance at him knowingly. “You know, since he invited you here and all.”

His smirk deepens, eyes flickering with something unreadable. “Yeah. Generous of him, don’t you think?”

You nod, watching him carefully. “I like that you two are getting close again.”

Sunghoon hums, taking a slow sip of his drink before setting the glass down. Then, he looks at you with that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. “Of course you like it. You’re the reason for it.” He pauses, tilting his head slightly. “Or did you already forget what happened on Super Bowl night?”

Your breath catches for half a second, but you school your expression, refusing to give him the reaction he wants. Instead, you shift your gaze across the room, scanning the crowd—and that’s when you see Jake.

He’s leaning against a tall table, still engaged in conversation, but his eyes are locked onto you and Sunghoon. There’s something in the way he’s watching, the curve of his lips somewhere between amused and possessive. It sends a shiver down your spine—not quite jealousy, but not entirely something else, either.

The bartender slides your drink in front of you, breaking the tension. You take the glass, turning back to Sunghoon with a tight-lipped smile. “I should get back.”

His smirk lingers, as if he knows exactly why you’re leaving so quickly. “Sure. Wouldn’t want to keep your boyfriend waiting.” You ignore the way your stomach tightens at his words, turning on your heel and walking away before you do something reckless.

You return to Jake, finding him standing with Heeseung, Beomgyu, and Soobin near the edge of the party. The three of them are deep in an animated discussion, and you barely get a word in before Beomgyu clutches Soobin’s shoulder like he’s delivering the most important information of the night.

“Dude, I swear to God, we just went to the bathroom and Tom Holland was in there,” Beomgyu says, eyes wide.

Soobin nods in solemn agreement. “He was washing his hands like a normal person. It was surreal.”

“Was he British?” Heeseung asks, raising an eyebrow.

Beomgyu stares at him. “Bro, of course he was British, what kind of question—”

“I mean, did he sound British in real life?” Heeseung clarifies, crossing his arms.

“I didn’t hear him talk. But he had the British stance,” Soobin supplies, as if that explains everything.

“What the hell is a British stance?” Jake finally asks, chuckling.

Beomgyu waves his hand dismissively. “You wouldn’t get it.”

At this point, the conversation takes a sharp turn as Heeseung squints at Soobin. “Okay, but real question—who’s the best Spider-Man? Because I already know your dumbass answer.”

Soobin gasps. “Tobey Maguire is objectively the best—”

“Oh my God, here we go,” Beomgyu groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You’re actually delusional if you think Andrew Garfield wasn’t the best,” Heeseung counters.

Jake laughs, slipping an arm around your waist and pulling you slightly closer as they keep arguing. He leans in, his voice a warm murmur in your ear, “You wanna get out of here?”

Your breath hitches for half a second, but you play it cool, tilting your head slightly. “You’re feeling bold tonight.”

He smirks. “You have that effect on me.”

Before you can respond, Beomgyu suddenly turns back to you both, looking horrified. “Wait—Jake, don’t tell me you think Tom Holland is the best Spider-Man.”

Jake doesn’t even glance at him. “I think Y/N and I are leaving.”

Soobin gasps. “COWARD.”

You laugh, letting Jake steer you toward the exit, ignoring the continued chaos behind you. His hand is firm on your lower back, fingers pressing lightly as he guides you through the crowd, a silent reminder of his presence. The party hums around you—music pulsing, glasses clinking, voices overlapping in an endless sea of conversation—but it all fades into the background as you step into the crisp night air. The smoking area is nearly empty, just a few scattered guests lingering near the edge, their quiet conversations drowned out by the distant bass from inside. The air is laced with the faint scent of cigarettes and expensive cologne, but all you can focus on is Jake, who wastes no time in pulling you closer by the waist.

“You okay?” he murmurs, his voice smooth and low against your ear. His lips graze the sharp line of your jaw, not quite kissing, just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“I’m fine,” you reply, though your breath hitches slightly when he finally presses a kiss there, just below your ear.

“Yeah?” He pulls back just enough to look at you, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “You don’t seem fine.”

You roll your eyes, though it’s half-hearted. “You just like messing with me.”

“Maybe.” His hands tighten around your waist, his thumbs pressing into your sides. “Or maybe I just like you.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you play it cool. “Oh yeah? How much?”

Jake tilts his head, pretending to think. “Mm, a lot.” His lips find your jawline again, kissing along it slowly, savoring every inch. “Like, wanna-be-around-you-all-the-time a lot. Like, think-you’re-the-coolest-person-here a lot.”

You hum softly, enjoying the warmth of Jake’s touch, the way his fingers trace absentminded circles against your waist. But there’s something deeper lingering between you, something you can’t ignore.

“Jake,” you say quietly, tilting your head up to look at him properly. “Can I ask you something? Like, for real?”

He pulls back slightly, his gaze warm and steady. “Of course.”

You hesitate for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip before finally speaking. “What… what exactly is this? You and me.”

Jake blinks, as if the question catches him off guard, but then a small, knowing smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “I don’t know if I have the perfect answer for that,” he admits. “But I know that I really like getting to know you. I like how things feel when I’m with you. And I don’t wanna push you into anything—you’ve got a lot going on, I get that. But I like where we are right now.” His fingers tighten slightly on your waist, grounding, reassuring. “I like this... whatever this is.”

Your heart stumbles slightly at his words, the sincerity behind them. You nod, letting the moment settle, before shifting slightly. “Can I ask you one more thing?”

Jake grins. “Damn, two in a row? Should I be nervous?”

You roll your eyes but don’t take the bait. Instead, you inhale deeply, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “Why don’t you get mad about Sunghoon? About him being around?”

Jake exhales a quiet laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You wanna know the truth?”

“That’d be nice.”

He leans against the railing, still holding onto you like he’s unwilling to let you go. “It’s not the first time this has happened with me and Sunghoon.”

Your brows lift. “Seriously?”

Jake nods. “Yeah. We’ve had this… I don’t know what to call it. This rivalry? Competition? Whatever it is, it’s not new. But it’s never been like this before.”

“Like this how?”

His thumb brushes against your hip, gentle, thoughtful. “It’s never been with someone like you.”

Your breath catches slightly. “What does that mean?”

Jake chuckles, shaking his head. “It means you make it different. You make it feel less like a fight and more like— I don’t know. Like a game we don’t mind playing.” He pauses, tilting his head. “And I think it’s because I respect you. I know you’re gonna do whatever you want in the end, and I trust that. And…” He grins, eyes glinting with something playful. “I like it. I like the chase. I like having to work for you.”

Your heart squeezes at his words, warmth creeping up your neck. “You’re really not jealous?”

“Oh, I’m jealous,” he admits, laughing. “But I’m not bitter. Not when it’s you.”

For a second, you can’t think of anything to say. So you don’t. Instead, you reach up, tangling your fingers in the fabric of his jacket and pulling him down into a kiss. Jake reacts instantly, hands sliding up your back, pulling you closer, until there’s barely any space left between you. His lips move against yours with an easy certainty, like he’s trying to tell you everything he just said all over again—without words, just the heat of his touch, the press of his body against yours. You feel the way he deepens the kiss, his fingers tightening slightly at your waist, like he wants to make sure you don’t slip away. And you don’t want to.

You let yourself sink into him, your hands gripping the lapels of his jacket, holding him there like he’s the only thing anchoring you to the moment. The world outside the two of you feels distant, a blur of cigarette smoke and the muffled voices. It’s just Jake, his lips warm and insistent against yours, his breath fanning across your cheek as he tilts his head to kiss you deeper, as if he wants to taste every inch of you.

Then reality nudges at the back of your mind, and you remember where you are.

You break the kiss, just barely, your breath mingling with his. “Jake,” you murmur, voice slightly unsteady. “We’re still in public.”

His lips barely leave your skin as he hums in response, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth. “So?”

You huff a quiet laugh, raising an eyebrow. “So, people are watching.”

Jake exhales a soft chuckle, completely unfazed. “Good,” he murmurs, dipping his head lower, his lips brushing against your jaw, then lower, trailing down the column of your neck. His voice is a low, amused whisper against your skin. “I like when people watch.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, your fingers tightening in the fabric of his jacket. There’s something reckless about the way he says it, something bold, unbothered—like he’s perfectly happy letting the whole world see that you’re his.

You’re about to retort, maybe call him insane, maybe tell him to shut up and keep kissing you, but then—your gaze drifts past his shoulder.

And your stomach twists.

Across the smoking area, near the edge where the neon glow fades into shadows, Sunghoon is standing with some girl. He’s not kissing her, but he’s leaning in way too close, his posture relaxed, effortless—like this isn’t even something he has to think about. Like it’s second nature to him.

She’s smiling, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers as she looks up at him, hanging onto whatever he’s saying. And he’s looking at her the way he looks at anyone he’s about to pull into his orbit—sharp, teasing, eyes glinting with something just shy of a smirk. He’s angled slightly toward her, their bodies just close enough that if she took half a step forward, they’d be chest-to-chest. It’s casual, but you know him well enough to recognize the way his body language shifts when he’s interested in someone.

And then he looks up.

His eyes meet yours, and in an instant, everything sharpens. The noise around you fades, the air between you crackling with something unspoken, something tense. His expression doesn’t change—he doesn’t pull away from the girl, doesn’t step back. He just holds your gaze, steady and unreadable, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Like he’s daring you to react.

Your pulse kicks up, an unfamiliar mix of emotions rising in your chest—something heated, something possessive, something almost irrational. You don’t know if it’s anger, annoyance, or something else entirely, but you feel it curling tight in your stomach.

Jake, still oblivious, is kissing along your neck, lips pressing slow, lingering against your skin. His grip on your waist tightens, his voice low. “You’re thinking too much,” he murmurs, trailing another kiss just below your jaw.

But you barely register his words, barely feel the way he’s touching you. Because your attention is locked on Sunghoon, on the way he’s still looking at you, as if waiting to see what you’ll do.

And it makes your blood boil.

The spark of defiance ignites in your chest before the thought even fully forms. You don’t hesitate. If Sunghoon wants to play, you can play too.

Without breaking eye contact with him, you tighten your grip on Jake’s collar and pull him back into a kiss—this time, not soft or teasing, but intense, deliberate. Jake barely has a second to react before he’s melting into you, his hands sliding down your waist, fingers gripping your hips as he presses closer. He exhales a quiet groan against your lips, caught off guard but more than willing to follow your lead.

You tilt your head, deepening it, letting your nails drag lightly against the nape of his neck. The heat between you simmers into something heavier, something heady, and when Jake's fingers dig into your sides in response, you know he's completely lost in it. Good. That’s exactly what you need.

Still, even as you lose yourself in the kiss, you keep your awareness sharp, your senses wired. You know Sunghoon is still watching. And when you finally break the kiss, breathless, you make a point of glancing back toward him.

Your stomach twists the moment you do.

The girl beside him is even closer now, pressing into his side, lips trailing along his jawline like she’s mapping it out with precision. Sunghoon, on the other hand, looks completely unaffected. His expression is unreadable—bored, maybe. Or amused. His arm is lazily slung over the balcony railing, one hand wrapped around his drink, posture relaxed, unbothered. But his eyes?

His eyes are locked onto you.

There’s something deliberate in the way he holds your gaze, something slow and heavy, like he knows exactly what you’re trying to do—and he’s daring you to try harder. It makes your pulse spike, anger bubbling beneath your skin, because he’s playing right back, and worse—he’s good at it.

You refuse to let him win.

Turning back to Jake, you grab his wrist and pull him with you, leading him toward a more secluded corner of the smoking area, tucked behind a concrete wall where the lights don’t quite reach. Jake follows without question, his grip tightening around your hand, his breath uneven from the kiss.

“Where are we going?” he murmurs, voice low, eager.

You don’t answer. Not yet. Not until you steal one last glance over your shoulder, making sure Sunghoon sees exactly what you’re doing.

You don’t wait to see his full reaction, but you catch it anyway—the smirk pulling at Sunghoon’s lips, lazy and knowing, like he’s completely unfazed by your little game. Like he’s enjoying this just as much as you are. It makes your jaw clench.

But you don’t give him the satisfaction of hesitating. You disappear behind the wall with Jake, letting the dim lighting and the thrum of the distant bass swallow you whole.

The second you’re out of sight, Jake tugs you back against him, hands firm on your waist. He’s still catching his breath, his eyes dark with something unreadable—half amusement, half hunger. But there’s something else there too, something smug, something playful.

“You know he’s an asshole, right?” His voice is low, teasing, his fingers dipping just beneath the hem of your dress. “And you know I’m so much better than him.” You open your mouth, but before you can say anything, he leans in, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “But you just can’t help yourself, can you?”

Your stomach flips at the way he says it—not accusing, not jealous, just… taunting. Testing you. And you hate how much you like it.

Your lips curl, fingers sliding up his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. “Maybe I just like watching you get all competitive,” you murmur, tilting your head slightly, letting your lips ghost over his jaw. “Maybe I like making you work for it.”

Jake exhales sharply, his grip on you tightening. “Yeah?” His voice drops even lower, and before you can respond, he presses his lips to yours again, harder this time.

The kiss is intense, charged—his hands tugging you closer, his fingers digging into your hips as he backs you against the cool concrete wall. His lips part against yours, and you let him in, let him deepen it, let him take.

His mouth leaves yours only to trail lower, tracing a slow, deliberate path along your jaw, down to your neck. He finds that spot just beneath your ear and lingers there, lips pressing, tongue flicking, teeth grazing just enough to make you inhale sharply.

“Still thinking about him?” he murmurs against your skin.

You exhale something between a laugh and a breathy sigh, threading your fingers through his hair. “Not even a little.”

Jake chuckles, satisfied, before dipping lower. His lips trace down your collarbone, hot and open-mouthed, like he wants to leave something behind—some kind of mark, something to remind you who had you here first. His hands explore, one gripping your waist, the other slipping up your back, pressing you flush against him.

Jake’s grip tightens, his fingers digging into your waist as he presses you further against the cold wall. His kisses turn rougher, more demanding—teeth grazing your lower lip before he tugs at it, swallowing the quiet gasp that escapes you.

"You like this, don’t you?" he murmurs, his voice dripping with something dark, something teasing. His hand slides up your side, fingers curling around your ribs as his lips travel back to your neck, biting down just enough to make your breath hitch. "Letting me push you around a little?"

His words send a shiver down your spine, and when he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes heavy-lidded, pupils blown, you know you’ve both lost track of who’s playing who. You don’t answer—not with words, at least. Instead, you tilt your head, giving him more access, your fingers tightening in his hair as he licks over the spot he just bit. He chuckles against your skin, satisfied, before sucking a bruise into your collarbone.

A soft moan escapes your lips, barely audible, but Jake catches it. His breath stutters for a split second before he exhales sharply, pressing his hips against yours in response. "Shit," he mutters, dragging his teeth over your pulse. "You can’t be doing that in my ear, princess. That’s not fair."

Before he can say anything else, the buzz of his phone vibrating in his pocket interrupts the moment. He ignores it. You feel it again. A steady vibration, insistent. Jake just groans, mouth still on your skin.

"Jake," you whisper, a little breathless. "It’s your phone."

"Don’t care," he mutters, kissing you again.

You laugh softly, pushing at his chest. "It could be important."

He pulls back just enough to look at you, jaw clenched, clearly annoyed. With a heavy sigh, he digs into his pocket, pulling out his phone. When he sees the caller ID, he groans even louder.

"For fuck’s sake," he mutters before answering. "What?"

You can’t hear what’s being said on the other end, but Jake rolls his eyes. "Bro, are you serious right now? I'm—" He pauses, glancing at you, then sighs again. "Fine. I’ll be there in a sec."

He hangs up and shoves his phone back into his pocket, looking at you with the most put-out expression. "It’s Niki. He’s making a toast or whatever and wants all the guys there."

You snort. "You should go…"

"Yeah." Jake sighs, rubbing a hand down his face before looking at you again. His eyes roam over your slightly disheveled appearance, the faint marks blooming on your collarbone. A smirk tugs at his lips.

You roll your eyes. "I was literally about to fix myself up."

His smirk widens. "Yeah, you better."

You smack his arm, making him laugh. "Shut up," you mutter, turning toward the restroom. "I’ll meet you there."

Jake steps away first, sighing dramatically as he runs a hand through his hair. “Better hurry up, angel,” he teases over his shoulder. “Don’t wanna keep me waiting too long.”

You roll your eyes, watching as he disappears into the crowd before exhaling and smoothing down your outfit. Your body still feels warm, buzzing from everything that just happened, but you shake it off, heading toward a bathroom nearby.

The hallway is quieter here, dimly lit, the noise of the party muffled behind thick walls. You push open the door and step inside, immediately making a beeline for the mirror.

The second you see yourself, you groan, leaning against the counter with both hands. Your lips are swollen, your hair is slightly tousled, and there’s the faintest hint of red blooming on your collarbone where Jake had been particularly eager.

“My god,” you mutter, tilting your head to inspect the damage. You press your fingers over the spot, sighing. “Girl, what the fuck are you doing?”

You shake your head, standing up straighter as you start fixing yourself. Running your fingers through your hair, smoothing out your clothes, fixing your lipstick in an attempt to erase the evidence.

Alright. You’re fine. You take one last breath, steadying yourself.

Then, pushing open the stall door, you step out—

Sunghoon is leaning against the wall right outside the bathroom, arms crossed, waiting.

His eyes meet yours immediately—dark, unreadable. There’s a flicker of something behind them, something almost amused, and then his lips quirk up at the corner.

“Took you long enough,” he murmurs.

Your breath catches for a second, your heart still settling from the mess Jake left you in, but you mask it quickly. “Were you waiting for me?” you ask, tilting your head, trying to sound unimpressed.

Sunghoon just shrugs. “Maybe.” You roll your eyes, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, trying to ignore the way he’s looking at you—so casual, so at ease, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Having fun tonight?” he asks, voice smooth as ever.

You lift an eyebrow. “You tell me,” you counter. “Looked like you were having a great time with that girl.”

His smirk deepens, just a fraction. “You were watching?”

You scoff, arms crossing over your chest. “You were standing right there. Kinda hard to miss.”

He hums, tilting his head. “So, what? You jealous?”

The accusation makes your stomach twist, but you don’t let it show. You just let out a short, humorless laugh. “Not even a little.”

Sunghoon chuckles, low and deep. “Right,” he drawls.

You hate the way he says it—like he doesn’t believe you, like he knows better. And maybe he does. Maybe he caught the way your gaze lingered too long, how you clenched your jaw when you saw his arm resting lazily on the balcony railing, completely unfazed by your attempts to get a rise out of him.

You straighten your spine. “You must be enjoying yourself, though,” you say, voice laced with something just shy of sarcasm. “Didn’t look like you were complaining when she was all over you.”

Sunghoon just hums again, taking a slow step toward you. “Wouldn’t say that,” he muses.

Another step.

Your back hits the wall before you even realize you’re moving, and Sunghoon is right there, hovering just close enough to make your pulse stutter. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t do anything more than lean in, but it’s enough. Enough to make the space feel smaller, the air heavier.

“She was cute,” he admits, voice dropping slightly. “But I don’t even remember her name.” You bite the inside of your cheek, refusing to react. He watches you for a second longer, studying, waiting, and then his lips curve again. “What?” he murmurs. “Disappointed?”

Your eyes narrow. “I should’ve listened when people told me you were trouble.”

Sunghoon tilts his head, feigning curiosity. “Oh? And who told you that?”

You shrug, looking away. “People.”

He hums, like he’s considering it, then dips his head a little lower, just enough to make you look at him again. “Well,” he says, “they’re not wrong.” The words shouldn’t make your stomach flip. But they do. “And you know that,” he continues, voice quieter now. “You’ve always known that.”

You swallow, lips pressing together. Sunghoon’s smirk grows. “And you like it,” he says simply.

Something about the certainty in his voice makes your breath hitch. Like it’s not a question, not even up for debate. Like he knows you too well, has seen the way you react when he talks to you like this, corners you like this. You open your mouth, maybe to argue, maybe to deflect, but he beats you to it.

“You don’t play fair, either,” he murmurs. “That’s why you pulled Jake like that.”

Your fingers twitch at your sides. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah, you do.” The worst part is that he’s right. And he knows it. The tension stretches between you, thick and charged, but before you can get lost in it completely, something clicks in the back of your mind—Jake.

You blink, straightening slightly. “I have to go.”

Sunghoon doesn’t move, still caging you in. “Back to him?” You nod. He exhales sharply through his nose, a smirk still lingering on his lips. “Of course you do.”

You lift your chin. “Don’t start.”

Sunghoon just lets out a quiet chuckle, finally stepping back, giving you space. “Go ahead,” he says, waving a hand. You roll your eyes, stepping past him, ignoring the way your skin still feels too hot. And as you walk away, you swear you can still hear him laughing.

You make your way back to the party, heart still racing from your conversation with Sunghoon. The music pulses through the air, a mix of laughter and chatter filling the space as you navigate through the crowd.

You spot Jake and Niki at a table surrounded by a group of familiar faces—Heeseung, Beomgyu, Soobin, Woonhak, Jungwon, Jay, Sunoo, Giselle, and Yeonjun. Niki stands up, animatedly gesturing with a drink in hand, clearly in the middle of one of his infamous speeches.

“And let me tell you, folks,” Niki booms, “life is like a pizza! You can have all the toppings in the world, but if the base is soggy, it’s just not gonna work!” The table erupts in laughter, and you can’t help but smile. Niki’s ridiculousness is contagious.

As you reach the table, you lean against it, slipping in beside Jungwon. You rest your head on his shoulder, the comfort of his presence settling your racing thoughts. He glances down at you, an amused glint in his eyes.

Jungwon glances down at you, amusement flickering in his eyes. “You’ve really changed, haven’t you, Y/N?” he muses, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You blink up at him, feigning innocence. “What do you mean?”

He scoffs, nudging you playfully. “You just stroll in here, all casual, after… whatever that was, and expect me to believe you’re only here for the pizza?”

You roll your eyes, the warmth of your earlier encounter with Sunghoon fading slightly in the comfort of your twin’s teasing. “I came for the pizza and Niki’s wisdom, obviously,” you reply, trying to sound serious.

Your brother chuckles, shaking his head as he wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in closer. You lean into him, the familiar warmth of his embrace making you feel safe and grounded.

But then your gaze drifts away from your brother and settles on Jake, who is seated next to Heeseung, laughter bubbling up between them. He’s animated, his eyes sparkling with joy as he jokes around, completely lost in the moment with his friends. Watching him, a wave of warmth washes over you, spreading from your chest to your fingertips.

In that moment, you can’t help but think how much you genuinely like him. The realization hits you with a gentle tug at your heart. If only you’d met under different circumstances, perhaps things would have been easier. Maybe you could have shared more moments like this, more laughter, and less confusion. The thought lingers in your mind, and you find yourself smiling softly as you wonder what the future might hold. Who knows? Maybe there’s a chance for something more between you two.

As if sensing your gaze, Jake looks over at you, a small smile spreading across his face. It’s the kind of smile that lights up his eyes, a mix of mischief and warmth, as if he knows he wants to be close to you but doesn't want to disrupt the fun he's having with his friends. You feel your cheeks warm at the sight, and for a moment, everything else fades away.

The energy in the room was electric, bodies swaying to the beat, laughter mixing with the music, until Niki broke through the crowd, breathless and wide-eyed. “Heeseung! Jake!” he called out, his excitement palpable. “You’ve got to see this! Whoopi Goldberg is on the dance floor right now!”

The mention of Whoopi had Beomgyu and Soobin leaning in, intrigued. “No way, are you serious?” Beomgyu asked, his expression shifting to one of genuine curiosity. “We have to go check that out.” Soobin nodded vigorously, already stepping forward.

Woonhak leaned back in his chair, a lazy grin on his face. “I actually talked to her earlier. She called me ‘Mr. Kim.’” He delivered the line nonchalantly, but the playful smirk on his face suggested he loved the attention.

Laughter erupted around the group, Jungwon and Jay nearly collapsing with mirth. Even Jake, who typically maintained a cool demeanor, couldn’t suppress a chuckle. Just as he opened his mouth to respond, Niki seized his arm, pulling him toward the dance floor. “Let’s go, Jake!”

Watching them go, you felt a warmth spread through you. Jake looked so relaxed, so alive, his laughter ringing out amidst the chaos. It was a joy to see him enjoying himself without a care in the world.

“Hey,” Jungwon called, breaking you from your thoughts. “You wanna dance?”

With that, you followed Jungwon onto the dance floor, Jay, Sunoo, and Giselle close behind. The music pulsed around you, each beat vibrating through your chest. You lost yourself in the rhythm, spinning and laughing, letting the music take over.

Then you felt it—a shift in the atmosphere, something unsettling. You turned slightly, and there he was: Sunghoon, sauntering by with another girl, laughter escaping his lips like it was the soundtrack to your annoyance. The sight hit you hard, a surge of frustration bubbling up as you contemplated “accidentally” tripping him.

But no. You weren’t going to let him ruin your night. Not with your friends around, not with the music pumping, and definitely not when Whoopi Goldberg was potentially doing the cha-cha-slide somewhere in this building. You forced a smile, turned back to your friends, and kept dancing, determined to shake off the irritation.

Then, as if the universe was playing a cruel joke, Sunghoon’s eyes locked onto yours. For a fleeting moment, everything around you fell silent, the air thick with tension. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but before he could, the girl beside him pulled him back into their conversation.

You turned away, your jaw clenching. The music and laughter felt distant now, as if you were watching the party unfold through a haze. Jungwon noticed the shift in your mood and leaned closer, concern etching his features. “You good?”

You nodded, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But as you moved to the beat, your gaze kept drifting back to Sunghoon, the weight of his presence hanging in the air like a cloud. The night was still young, yet suddenly, it felt a lot heavier.

After dancing for what felt like forever, the weight of your heels became unbearable. You decided it was time for a break. Spotting Sunoo chatting with Giselle, you made your way over. “Hey, I’m going to grab some slippers from my room,” you announced, already starting to walk away.

Sunoo raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming on his lips. He gave you a knowing look. “Just be careful, because there’s someone watching you all the time.” His tone was teasing, but you knew exactly who he meant—Sunghoon. The unspoken tension between the two of you was palpable, and Sunoo was well aware of it.

“Yeah, well, I’m going to my room anyway,” you replied, already moving away, not bothering to hide your smile.

As you strolled down the dimly lit hallway, the party music faded into a distant buzz, leaving just the thumping of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. You could feel Sunghoon’s gaze boring into your back, a familiar presence that sent little shivers down your spine. You could practically picture him brushing off that girl who had been flirting with him just moments before, his signature smirk dismissing her advances like a pro. He had this crazy way of commanding attention, and somehow, you were caught right in the middle of it.

Stopping in front of your door, the cool metal handle felt like a nice break from the heat radiating off your skin. Just as you turned, Sunghoon rounded the corner, the flickering light catching his jawline, making him look almost otherworldly in the shadows. “You know,” you said, leaning against the doorframe, a playful smirk on your lips, “I totally knew you’d pull this. You’re pretty obvious.”

His lips curled into that signature smirk that always sent a jolt through you. He stepped closer, the air between you charged with an electric tension. “And you can’t seem to stay away, can you? It’s like you’re into this little game we’ve got,” he shot back, his tone playful but with a hint of something deeper.

“Oh, is that what this is? A game?” You crossed your arms, trying to hide how giddy you felt inside. The banter flowed easily, but you both knew there was a lot more going on under the surface.

“Definitely,” he leaned in a bit, his eyes locking onto yours with a mix of mischief and challenge. “But don’t worry; I’m always down for a challenge. Especially with someone like you.”

Your heart raced at his proximity, a rush of adrenaline flooding your veins. You could feel your cheeks heating up, giving away the cool facade you were trying to maintain. “Well, you better keep up then,” you shot back, the words tumbling out with a surprising boldness.

Sunghoon chuckled softly, his amusement clear, but then his expression turned serious for a moment. “Oh, really? Should I?” His voice dropped low, each word hanging in the air, creating a charged intimacy that felt almost electric.

In that instant, the world around you faded, leaving just the two of you in your own bubble. The weight of unspoken words hovered between you, and for a heartbeat, it felt like the night was poised on the brink of something monumental. You could see the flicker of emotions dancing in his eyes, a mixture of challenge and desire, and it made your heart skip a beat.

“You know, I’m kinda tired of this back-and-forth game we’ve been playing,” he said, stepping even closer, a serious look crossing his face.

“Oh really? And what do you want, then?” You challenged, the playful banter tinged with curiosity.

“I want you, Y/N,” he admitted, the sincerity in his voice sending a thrill down your spine. “Not just this teasing dance.”

The seriousness in his tone made your breath hitch. It felt like a confession, raw and honest, cutting through the playful tension that had defined your interactions until now. You were caught off guard, your heart pounding louder in your ears. You met his gaze, a mix of surprise and something that felt like hope swirling in your chest.

He moved even closer, hovering just inches from you, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body. His breath brushed against your skin as he leaned in, almost whispering. “You talk about me being trouble, but let’s be honest—you’re worse than I am.”

Your breath caught in your throat, a mix of thrill and frustration bubbling inside you. “What are you even talking about?” You looked up at him, and the playful glint in his eyes made your heart race.

“Come on,” he teased, tilting his head slightly. He leaned in, brushing his lips just beside your ear, making your breath hitch. “You get jealous at me flirting with other girls, but you can’t expect me to just sit here while you fuck with Jake, either. It’s a two-way street, you know?”

He pulled back slightly, looking deep into your eyes, searching for a reaction. You felt a surge of irritation mix with a strange thrill at his words, his expression teasing yet sincere. “Fine,” you huffed, frustration bubbling to the surface. But the truth was, you wanted to fight against it, to challenge him. “Maybe I don’t want to keep playing games too.”

“Then what do you want, Y/N?” He stepped back, that playful glint returning to his eyes. “Tell me.”

You hesitated, the weight of his gaze pressing on you, and for a moment, all the teasing, all the games, melted away. “I want you to stop messing with my head and just be honest with me.”

Sunghoon’s expression softened slightly, and for a brief moment, the playful banter gave way to something deeper. “Alright, I can do that. I want you. No games.”

You felt your heart race at his admission, a rush of heat flooding your cheeks. “Okay,” you replied, your voice steady but laced with a hint of vulnerability. “No games.”

His lips curled into a knowing smirk, a challenge flickering in his eyes. “But even now, you’re still not making the first move, are you?”

You held his gaze, unflinching. The air was thick with tension, and the silence stretched between you, charged with anticipation. You didn’t want to be the first to break; instead, you leaned into the moment, your heart pounding as you locked your eyes onto his.

Instead of waiting for him to lean in, you took a step back, slowly opening your door and entering your room, all while keeping your eyes fixed on him. You moved in reverse, your gaze never leaving his, a playful yet inviting challenge dancing in your expression. The door creaked slightly as you stepped inside, the space now feeling intimate and charged.

Sunghoon followed you inside, his gaze intense as he stepped through the threshold. He closed the door behind him with a firm thud, the sound echoing in the small room, sealing you both in a world of your own. You could feel the heat radiating off him as he advanced, the atmosphere thick with unspoken desires.

You walked backward until the back of your knees met the edge of your bed, the soft mattress providing a stark contrast to the tension in the air. You felt the gentle push as you sat down, your eyes never leaving his. Sunghoon remained standing, towering over you, a smirk still playing on his lips.

Sunghoon stepped closer, his expression shifting to one of determination. “So, you think you can just tease me like this?” His voice dropped an octave, filled with a rough edge that sent shivers down your spine.

You held his gaze, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness. “I’m not scared of you,” you replied, trying to sound bold, but the way he looked at you made it hard to maintain your composure.

He smirked, a confident glint in his eyes. “Good, because I’m not playing games anymore.” With that, he took a step back, deliberately creating a bit of distance. You watched, curious, as he slowly removed his blazer, revealing a fitted shirt that clung to his frame. He left a few buttons undone, exposing just enough of his chest to make your heart race.

The sight of him, so effortlessly confident and attractive, made your breath hitch. You leaned back on your hands, your heart pounding as you assessed him, unable to look away. The playful banter had evaporated, leaving only a charged atmosphere between you.

“See something you like?” he teased, his voice low and taunting. The intensity of his gaze pinned you in place, making it hard to think straight.

“Maybe,” you replied, a hint of challenge in your tone, even as your body betrayed you, leaning slightly back, inviting him to close the distance.

Sunghoon stepped forward again, this time his presence more dominant, almost predatory. “You have no idea what you’re asking for, do you?” He leaned closer, making your heart race even faster. Standing before you, he towered over you, a commanding figure that filled the space with undeniable energy.

His hand reached out, fingers brushing against your chin, lifting it gently to meet his gaze. The contact sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt both vulnerable and exhilarated under his touch. “Look at me,” he urged softly, his eyes locked onto yours, a mix of intensity and something deeper swirling within them.

You held his gaze, feeling the weight of the moment, your heart pounding as he carefully maintained the connection. There was an undeniable tension in the air, charged with desire and anticipation.

“I want you to understand just how much I want this,” he murmured, his thumb stroking your chin lightly, sending electric sparks through you. It was a simple gesture, yet it felt like an invitation into something thrilling and unknown.

“I think I can say I’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper, heart racing as you laid your feelings bare.

“Oh, really?” he replied, a teasing glint in his eyes, his lips curling into a smirk that sent butterflies swirling in your stomach. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly sank to his knees in front of you, a powerful move that made your breath hitch.

As he knelt, the world around you faded, leaving just the two of you in this charged atmosphere. He leaned in closer, his gaze locked onto yours, intense and unwavering. Then, with deliberate slowness, he reached for your sandal, fingers brushing against your ankle as he began to slip it off.

You felt a rush of heat wash over you, the intimate gesture sending your mind into a whirl. You wanted to say something, to break the thick silence, but the way he looked at you left you momentarily speechless. His touch was gentle yet purposeful, a stark contrast to the fiery desire building between you.

With deliberate slowness, he moved to your second sandal, his fingers brushing your skin as he slipped it off. His gaze never faltered, locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. The world outside your room faded, and it felt like just the two of you existed in this electrifying moment.

As he slipped it off your foot, he leaned in closer, lifting your leg gently. You could feel the heat radiating from his body as he pressed a soft kiss to your ankle, his lips warm against your skin. The sensation sent a shiver up your spine, and you could barely contain the gasp that escaped your lips.

Sunghoon pulled back slightly, his smirk widening as he caught sight of the goosebumps that had formed along your leg. “Did that feel good?” he teased, his voice low and filled with mischief.

You could only nod, overwhelmed by the mix of sensations coursing through you. The way he was looking at you, combined with his gentle touch, was driving you wild. He leaned back in, his lips brushing against your skin once more, trailing slow, deliberate kisses up the length of your calf, his touch featherlight yet searing against your skin. Each press of his mouth sent another wave of heat rolling through you, making it harder to focus on anything but the way he was worshipping you with every movement. When he reached your knee, he lingered, his breath hot against the sensitive skin there, before placing a final, lingering kiss just above it.

Then, he stopped. He straightened to his full height, towering over you once more, his eyes locked onto yours in a way that sent a delicious shiver down your spine. He looked at you like he was taking in every detail, every reaction, every silent plea hidden behind your parted lips.

“Stand up,” he murmured, his voice smooth but firm.

You hesitated for only a second before obeying, your body moving before your mind could catch up. As you rose to your feet, the space between you crackled with tension, the air thick with anticipation. Sunghoon stepped behind you, his presence overwhelming without even touching you. The warmth of his body was right there, just close enough to make your skin tingle, just far enough to make you ache for more.

“Turn around,” he instructed, and you felt the heat in his voice as you complied, slowly pivoting until your back was to him.

You held your breath, heart hammering in your chest as you felt his fingers brush over your shoulder, grazing the strap of your dress. He didn’t rush—no, he was taking his time, savoring every second. You could feel his breath ghosting over the nape of your neck, the sensation sending a delicious shudder through you.

His fingers trailed down the length of your spine, following the fabric of your dress as he reached for the zipper. But before he pulled it down, he leaned in closer, his lips just barely brushing against the shell of your ear.

Sunghoon’s breath was warm against your ear, the tension between you thick enough to drown in. His fingers toyed with the zipper of your dress for a moment before he leaned in, his lips brushing over your skin as he spoke, voice low and dripping with amusement.

“Can I?” he murmured, his tone edged with something dark, something hungry, and you nodded.

And then, with a swift, decisive motion, he dragged the zipper down, the sound slicing through the silence. Your dress loosened instantly, slipping off your shoulders, the fabric pooling at your feet like it had simply given up under his touch.

Sunghoon took a small step back, just enough to take you in. His gaze darkened as it roamed over you, lingering on the deep blue lingerie that now stood between him and everything he wanted. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, and his smirk deepened.

“Fuck,” he exhaled, almost to himself. “Did you wear this for me?”

Before you could answer, he was already moving, his lips pressing against your bare shoulder, slow and deliberate, like he was marking his territory. His hands traced the curves of your waist before gripping your hips, pulling you back against him so you could feel exactly how much he wanted you.

“You like teasing me, don’t you?” he mused between kisses, his mouth trailing up the side of your neck, making you shudder. “Wearing something like this, knowing I’d see it.” His teeth grazed your skin, and you gasped, your body instinctively pressing closer. Sunghoon chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. “I think you like being caught.”

His hands slid over your stomach before he turned you around in one fluid motion. The second your eyes met his, you reached for the buttons of his shirt, fingers working quickly, desperate to even the playing field. But you barely made it to the middle of his torso before Sunghoon caught your wrists, halting your movements.

His gaze was sharp, his smirk downright sinful. “Did I say you could take my shirt off?” he asked, tilting his head. “Good girls ask first.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a split second, all you could do was stare at him, heart pounding, lips parting in surprise.

The moment stretched between you for a beat—then, before you could react, Sunghoon pushed you back onto the bed. You barely had time to process the way your body sank into the mattress before he was over you, one hand braced beside your head, the other gripping your thigh, spreading you open beneath him.

His smirk was gone now. What replaced it was something darker, something dangerously close to pure need.

“Now,” he murmured, eyes locked onto yours. “Let’s see if you can be good for me after all.”

Sunghoon hovered over you, his body pressing into yours, his breath fanning against your lips, but still—still—he hadn’t kissed you yet. His eyes burned into yours, his fingers tracing lazy circles against your thigh, teasing, withholding, making you squirm beneath him.

You were done waiting. You reached up, fingers threading through his hair, tugging him down—but before your lips could meet, he let out a quiet chuckle, his mouth barely ghosting over yours.

“Impatient, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice laced with amusement, with knowing.

You didn’t get a chance to respond, because in the next second, his lips finally crashed against yours, swallowing the air from your lungs. The kiss was nothing short of devastating.

His mouth moved against yours with an urgency that left you dizzy, like he’d been starving for this as much as you had. He didn’t hold back—he kissed you deep, kissed you like he wanted to ruin you, his hands tangling in your hair as he tilted your head back, demanding more, taking more.

You melted into him, nails digging into his back as his tongue slid against yours, slow and deliberate at first, then more intense, more desperate. His teeth grazed your lower lip before he sucked it between his own, drawing a soft whimper from you. That sound only seemed to spur him on.

His hands roamed lower, gripping your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, like he was trying to fuse you together. The weight of him, the way he pressed into you with every shift of his body, had your head spinning.

Your fingers found their way to his shirt again, fumbling with the buttons, desperate to get it off, to feel his skin against yours. But just as you started to undo another one, Sunghoon suddenly grabbed your wrists, stopping you in your tracks.

His lips were swollen, his breathing uneven, but his voice was firm as he said, “What did I just say?”

You blinked up at him, dazed. “What?”

“I told you to ask first.” His voice dropped lower, more authoritative. His grip on your wrists tightened just slightly, not enough to hurt, just enough to make you feel it.

Heat flooded through you, your breath catching at the way he looked at you—so in control, so effortlessly dominant. Still, you couldn’t help the whiny edge that crept into your voice. “But I—”

“Don’t start,” he cut you off, his tone sharp. His fingers traced down your arm, featherlight, sending a shiver through you. “You’re gonna be good for me, aren’t you?”

You swallowed hard, your heartbeat hammering in your ears. His words, his tone—it had you falling silent, something deep inside you tightening in response. Sunghoon’s smirk deepened, like he could see the exact moment you surrendered to him.

“Good girl,” he murmured, then leaned down, his lips crashing into yours again. This time, it was even more intense.

His kiss was all-consuming, leaving no space for hesitation. He devoured you, his tongue sliding against yours, slow but deliberate, like he was savoring every second. His hands roamed over your body, fingers digging into your waist, your hips, pulling you closer, as if he couldn’t get enough.

Then, suddenly, he pulled back. Still straddling you, Sunghoon shifted, moving up onto his knees. His hands went to the buttons of his shirt, and your breath caught as you watched him slowly undo them one by one. You lifted yourself slightly, propping up on your elbows, eyes locked onto him, completely transfixed. The way his fingers moved, the slow reveal of his toned chest—it was hypnotizing, addictive.

He caught you staring, smirking. You swallowed, your cheeks burning, but you didn’t look away. Then he paused, his fingers still on the last few buttons. His gaze met yours, dark and unreadable. “Ask.”

Your lips parted slightly, your breath shaky as you whispered, “Can I touch you, Hoon?”

For a second, he just stared at you, like he was drinking in the way you looked—needy, desperate, completely at his mercy. Then, finally, he gave a small nod. You wasted no time. Your hands reached out, fingers sliding against his skin as you slowly pushed his shirt open. Your touch was soft, reverent, tracing over his chest, his shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin under your fingertips.

You leaned forward, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his chest as you worked on the last of the buttons, your lips trailing down the hard planes of his body, tasting him, feeling every flex of his muscles under your touch. The shirt slipped off his shoulders, falling to the bed, forgotten.

Your hands moved lower, gliding over his abs, down to the waistband of his pants. Your breath hitched as you hesitated there, glancing up at him, waiting, asking without words. His eyes darkened. Without a word, he reached down, fingers curling under your chin, tilting your face up. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, slow, teasing.

“You look so pretty like this,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement, with something deeper. His thumb pressed just slightly against your lip, feeling the way it parted under his touch. “So obedient.”

A shiver ran down your spine. You swallowed hard, your entire body buzzing under his touch. Sunghoon tilted his head slightly, still toying with your bottom lip beneath his thumb. “Tell me what you want.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. Your face felt like it was on fire, but you forced the words out, even if your voice came out softer than you intended. “I want you.”

Something dark flashed in his gaze, his smirk widening as if he’d been waiting to hear that. He straightened up, stepping back slightly until he was standing at the edge of the bed, looking down at you.

“Then be a good girl and get on your knees for me.”

A fresh wave of heat surged through you at his words. You shifted, moving carefully until you were kneeling at the edge of the bed, looking up at him, heart racing in anticipation.

Sunghoon’s smirk never faltered. He let you settle into position before speaking again. “Take them off.” Your hands moved almost on their own, reaching for his belt, fingers fumbling slightly from the sheer tension in the air. You undid the buckle, the soft clinking sound loud in the otherwise quiet room. The button came next, then the zipper, your fingertips grazing the warm skin of his lower abdomen as you tugged the fabric down.

You took your time, dragging his pants down inch by inch, your fingers brushing against the firm muscles of his thighs, your breath coming out uneven as more of him was revealed to you. The air between you felt heavy, thick with anticipation, as the fabric slipped lower, pooling around his ankles.

Now, he was standing over you in nothing but his boxers, the outline of him straining against the fabric, leaving nothing to the imagination. Your mouth went dry. Heat coiled low in your stomach, an intoxicating mix of arousal and the sheer intensity of the moment.

Sunghoon let out a low chuckle at your expression, dark amusement dancing in his eyes. He reached down, his fingers tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “What’s wrong, baby?” His voice was a slow, teasing drawl, dripping with amusement, with control.

You weren’t sure if it was his tone, the way he looked at you, or the fact that you could feel his heat, inches away from your lips, but you felt dizzy. Your breath shuddered as you leaned in, your lips hovering just over the hard outline beneath his boxers, your eyes flicking up to meet his again, filled with nothing but quiet submission.

Sunghoon hummed, his smirk deepening. “Uh-uh.” His fingers traced along the side of your face before sliding into your hair, gripping it lightly. “You have to ask first, baby.”

Your stomach clenched. The grip in your hair wasn’t tight, but it was firm enough to remind you who was in charge. Your lips parted, voice coming out softer than you intended. “Please, Hoon…”

His expression remained unchanged, feigning innocence. “Please what?”

You swallowed, your heart hammering as you tilted your head, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss against his lower abdomen. His scent overwhelmed you, making you lightheaded. Your hands lifted to his hips, playing with the hem of his boxers, teasing the waistband between your fingers. “Let me take these off.”

Sunghoon inhaled slowly through his nose, looking down at you with heavy-lidded eyes. The hand in your hair tightened slightly, tilting your head back further. “Say please.”

You exhaled shakily, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please.”

Something flickered in his gaze—satisfaction, control. It was a look that sent another wave of heat rushing through you, making your entire body feel hyperaware of the moment. The way he loomed over you, his chest rising and falling steadily, the grip he still had in your hair—it all made you feel small in the best possible way. Then, his smirk returned, slow and knowing, his head tilting just slightly as he ran his thumb along your bottom lip, pressing down lightly, testing you. “Go ahead, baby.”

Your fingers curled around the waistband of his boxers, and you took your time, dragging the fabric down slowly, purposefully, letting your nails graze against his hips as you went. As soon as he was bare, your breath hitched. You felt lightheaded with anticipation, the heat pooling low in your stomach tightening at the sight of him, already so hard for you. Sunghoon was big.

Your lips parted, a quiet, shaky breath escaping as you immediately leaned in, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the base of his cock. His grip in your hair tightened, his chest rising with a sharp inhale as you trailed your lips up his length, your tongue tracing the prominent vein that ran along the side.

“Fuck.” His voice came out low, wrecked, his head tipping back just slightly before his gaze returned to you, dark and heavy-lidded.

You took your time, your tongue teasing him with deliberate, languid licks, savoring the weight of him, the warmth of his skin against your mouth. Sunghoon’s breathing grew heavier, his fingers tightening in your hair as he guided you subtly, his hips barely shifting forward, making you gasp.

“Just like that, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with approval. “So fucking good.”

The praise only fueled you, made you more eager, more desperate to please. You wrapped your lips around him, taking him in slowly, inch by inch, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked. His reaction was immediate—a sharp exhale through his nose, his jaw clenching, his grip tightening just enough to make you whimper.

“Look at you,” he muttered, his thumb tracing your lower lip again when you pulled back slightly, your lips slick and swollen. “So fucking eager, huh?”

You nodded, your breath coming in shallow, uneven pants, your pupils blown wide as you looked up at him, your lips slick and swollen. He shook his head slightly, a smirk playing on his lips as his fingers tightened in your hair, guiding you back down. You leaned in again, parting your lips and taking him in, slow and deliberate at first, before hollowing your cheeks and sucking, letting your tongue drag along the underside of his cock, feeling the way he pulsed under your touch. His breathing hitched, a quiet curse slipping from his lips as his hand flexed in your hair.

“Fuck, just like that,” he murmured, his voice thick with pleasure. “You take me so well, baby. Such a good fucking girl.”

The praise only made you more eager, made you want to pull more sounds from him, made you want to push him further. Your hands gripped at his thighs as you moved, setting a steady pace, swallowing around him, letting out soft little moans that you knew would drive him insane. His hips twitched, just barely holding himself back from thrusting into your mouth.

Then, suddenly, his grip in your hair tightened sharply, pulling you back with a swift, firm motion. Your lips slipped from his cock with a soft, wet pop, and you blinked up at him, dazed, your mind foggy with the haze of arousal. Confusion flickered in your expression, your tongue darting out to wet your lips as you searched his face, but he only smirked at you, his gaze dark and heavy-lidded.

Without a word, he let go of your hair and moved, shifting back onto the bed, sitting against the headboard, his legs spread lazily apart like he had all the time in the world. He propped an arm behind his head, watching you with an almost lazy amusement, like he was enjoying every second of making you wait.

Then, his voice cut through the thick silence. “Take those off for me.”

Your stomach clenched at his tone—low, commanding, expectant. You swallowed, nodding as you slowly got to your feet, standing at the edge of the bed as you reached for the straps of your bra.

Sunghoon’s gaze never left you, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip as he watched, his dark eyes flickering with anticipation. You dragged the straps down your shoulders, letting the fabric slip down inch by inch, revealing your bare chest. His smirk widened as he caught sight of it, his eyes darkening, his fingers flexing against his thigh. You let your underwear pool at your feet, and you could feel the hunger in his expression, the way his fingers twitched like he was resisting the urge to reach out and grab you.

Then, he tilted his head, patting his thigh once, his voice smooth, teasing. “Come here, pretty.”

Your breath hitched, your skin prickling with anticipation as you moved towards him, crawling onto the bed, your movements slow and deliberate, almost feline, like you were savoring every second of this.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice nothing but smooth approval. “So fucking pretty for me.”

The moment you were close enough, his hands found your waist, his grip firm, possessive—grounding you even as the rest of your body buzzed with anticipation. You hovered over him, your palms pressed against his bare chest, feeling the warmth of his skin, the steady, strong rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your touch. His fingers dragged along your sides, slow and deliberate, like he was committing every inch of you to memory, like he had no intention of rushing this.

And then he saw it. A darkened mark blooming against your collarbone, the unmistakable imprint of lips and teeth that weren’t his.

Sunghoon stilled, his smirk curling at the edges as his fingers ghosted over the bruise. Amusement flickered in his eyes as he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I knew he was going to mark you…” His voice was soft, teasing, but there was something else beneath it—something darker, something claiming.

Before you could respond, his lips were on you, tracing slow, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, his breath warm against your skin. He took his time, dragging his tongue over the sensitive spot before sinking his teeth in just enough to make you shudder.

“And I knew you were gonna let him,” he murmured against your skin, voice thick with amusement. His lips moved higher, grazing the shell of your ear as he whispered, “You can’t control yourself, can you?”

A sharp smack landed on your ass before you could process his words. You gasped, the sting spreading deliciously through your skin, and your eyes shot to him in shock, only to find him already watching you, biting down a smirk. He tilted his head slightly, gaze dark, knowing. “You like that, huh?” His fingers kneaded at the spot, soothing the burn even as his smirk grew.

Your breath hitched, the heat in your stomach curling even tighter. You swallowed, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

Sunghoon let out a soft, breathy laugh, his hand squeezing your waist, grounding you as he pulled you closer. “I knew you were dirty like this.”

And then his lips were on you again, but this time, lower. He kissed down the valley between your breasts, slow and teasing, his tongue darting out to taste your skin before he bit down gently, sucking another mark into your flesh. His hands smoothed over your thighs, squeezing, gripping, before sliding up to cup your chest, his thumbs brushing over your already hardened nipples.

He took his time with you, savoring every reaction, every little gasp, every arch of your body against him. It was intoxicating, the way he could pull sounds from you with just his mouth, just his hands. You whimpered as he dragged his tongue over your sensitive skin, your hips involuntarily rolling against his stomach, seeking friction, seeking anything.

His grip on your hips tightened instantly, stilling your movements. “Behave,” he said, his voice low, commanding, a warning.

A thrill shot through you at his tone, at the weight of his control, but you weren’t ready to submit just yet. You met his gaze, tilting your head slightly, feigning innocence. “Or what?”

His smirk widened, slow, almost lazy, like he was waiting for you to say that. Like he’d been hoping you would. “Oh, sweetheart…” His fingers dug into your skin, his voice dropping into something deeper, darker, full of promise. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

Before you could process, he moved. A sharp gasp left your lips as Sunghoon flipped you onto the mattress in one swift, effortless motion, pinning your body beneath him. His hands were on you immediately—strong, commanding, securing your wrists above your head with ease. His grip was firm, his body caging you in, leaving you completely at his mercy.

Your chest rose and fell in uneven breaths as you stared up at him, wide-eyed, your skin burning everywhere he touched. His gaze was dark, filled with something primal, something almost dangerous. And then he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in the lightest of touches before he bit down on your lower lip, sharp enough to make you whimper.

A quiet chuckle rumbled from his chest as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his breath fanning over your lips. “What do you want?” His voice was deep, teasing, dripping with control.

Your body arched instinctively, your thighs squeezing together in desperate search of relief, but you couldn’t move—not with the way he had you pinned so effortlessly beneath him. A whimper escaped you, but no words followed. Sunghoon smirked.

His grip on your wrists shifted, securing them in one hand, while his free hand trailed down your jaw, his fingers gripping your chin with just enough force to make you shiver. He tilted your face up, forcing you to meet his eyes, his thumb brushing slowly over your parted lips.

“Tell me,” he murmured, his tone leaving no room for defiance.

Your breath hitched, your body writhing under him, and when you finally spoke, your voice was barely above a whisper. “Fuck me, Sunghoon.”

He hummed, tilting his head, pretending to think. “Didn’t quite hear you, baby.” His hips lowered, the tip of his cock brushing against your entrance, teasing, taunting, making you gasp. Your entire body trembled beneath him, the ache inside you growing unbearable.

A frustrated whine left your lips, your voice turning desperate, pleading. “I want you to fuck me, Sunghoon.”

He let out a dark, satisfied chuckle. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

Before you could take another breath, his hand was between your legs, fingers gliding through your wetness, spreading you open. The teasing circles he drew over your clit made your thighs shake, your body twitching at every deliberate, calculated movement.

“Fuck,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. His fingers pressed down harder, rubbing slow, languid strokes that sent shocks of pleasure straight to your core. “You’re so wet for me, baby.”

You whimpered, your back arching against his touch. “Don’t tease me, please… I need you.”

Sunghoon smirked against your skin, his lips brushing the spot just beneath your ear before he murmured, “I need to prep you first.” His fingers dipped lower, sliding between your folds, teasing at your entrance. “Don’t want to hurt my pretty girl.” His voice was soft, almost affectionate. He lets go of your wrists, and you hold on to his arms.

His fingers slipped inside you with ease, stretching you open, filling you in a way that had your back arching off the mattress. A choked moan escaped your lips, your fingers curling into the sheets beneath you as Sunghoon worked you open, his movements slow at first—teasing, purposeful.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured, watching your face closely, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “So fucking good for me.”

His fingers moved faster, deeper, the lewd sounds of your wetness filling the room, only fueling the fire in his darkened gaze. Your thighs trembled, your body tightening around him, the pressure in your stomach coiling impossibly tight. He could feel it—how close you were. And he wanted to push you over that edge.

“Tell me…” His voice was low, almost a growl, as his fingers pumped into you with merciless precision. “Did he treat you nice like this?”

Your mind was hazy, the pleasure consuming you whole. You couldn’t even form words, couldn’t respond—all you could do was moan, your nails digging into his forearm as his pace quickened.

Sunghoon clicked his tongue, shaking his head with mock disapproval. “Can’t answer me?” His free hand came up, gripping your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his. His thumb dragged along your swollen lips, smearing the drool that had gathered there. “You’re so fucking eager, aren’t you? Wanting two cocks at the same time… so greedy.”

His words sent a new wave of heat through your body, shame and arousal intertwining in a way that made you squirm beneath him. “But I’m gonna ruin you for every other man,” he murmured darkly, leaning down, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “You hear me?”

The coil inside you snapped, your orgasm crashing over you so intensely that you couldn’t do anything but cry out his name, your thighs trembling, your body convulsing beneath him as you unraveled onto his fingers.

Sunghoon groaned, watching you fall apart with hooded eyes, completely mesmerized. Slowly, he pulled his fingers from your soaked heat, bringing them up to his lips before slipping them into his mouth, his tongue swirling around them, savoring the taste of you.

“You taste so fucking good,” he muttered, his voice hoarse with desire.

You barely had time to recover, your body still trembling in the aftershocks, before he was positioning himself in front of you, his cock in hand, the tip already leaking against your entrance.

He looked at you then—really looked at you. Your eyes were dazed, pupils blown wide, lips parted as you gazed up at him with a look that made his breath hitch.

“Are you okay?” His voice was softer now, a hint of something almost tender behind the rough dominance he exuded. You nodded quickly, biting your lip, anticipation swirling in your stomach as you ached to feel him inside you. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” he murmured, stroking your thigh, his restraint evident in the tension in his muscles.

Sunghoon was big, and the mere thought of him stretching you open made you whimper. You looked up at him with wide, needy eyes, an innocent expression that only fueled the hunger in his gaze. His jaw clenched, his fingers tightening around your thigh.

“Fuck,” he muttered, dragging the tip of his cock over your clit, rolling it in slow circles, making your body twitch beneath him. “You’re so fucking desperate for it, aren’t you?” You could only nod, your breath hitching, your body strung so tight that you thought you might go insane if he didn’t fill you soon.

“Tell me if you need me to stop,” he murmured, his voice slightly strained, as if he was holding himself back. You nodded again, appreciating the gentleness beneath his roughness, the way he still cared even while acting completely in control.

And then, finally, he pushed in—the thick head of his cock stretching you open, sinking into you inch by inch. Your body clenched around him, the feeling overwhelming, pleasure spreading through you like fire.

Your eyes rolled back, a moan slipping past your lips as you let your head fall completely against the bed, your hands gripping onto his strong biceps, needing something to ground you.

Sunghoon groaned lowly, watching the way your body took him, the way you squeezed around him so perfectly. “Fuck, baby,” he muttered, his voice strained, his control hanging by a thread. “You feel so fucking tight.”

His grip on your thigh was possessive, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he slowly pushed inside you, stretching you open inch by inch. The slow, deliberate pace was maddening, the tease unbearable, but he seemed to revel in it—watching the way your body reacted to him, the way your lips parted in breathless moans, the way your fingers clawed at his biceps, desperate for more.

Your forehead pressed against his, both of you breathing heavily, lost in the intoxicating heat of each other’s touch. The room felt electric, the air thick with tension, every sound amplified—the slick slide of him moving inside you, the breathy whimpers escaping your lips, the deep, guttural moans he let out every time your walls clenched around him.

His hold tightened, fingers bruising as he gripped the back of your thigh, spreading you wider for him, as if he wanted to claim every inch of you. His lips ghosted over yours, teasing, never quite kissing you, just breathing you in, his warm breath fanning over your flushed skin.

“You’ve been wanting this, haven’t you?” His voice was a dark whisper against your lips. You could only nod, completely lost in the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. “Say it.” His hips rolled forward, a deep thrust that had your eyes rolling back, your nails scratching down his toned back.

“I—” You gasped, barely able to form words. “I wanted this so bad.”

Sunghoon groaned, his self-control slipping as he pulled back slightly before snapping his hips forward again, burying himself deeper inside you. The stretch burned in the best way possible, a delicious ache that made your head spin. He was so big, filling you to the brim, making you feel completely owned, completely his.

His pace was still torturously slow, but each thrust was deep, deliberate, making you feel every inch of him. He watched your face intently, taking in every reaction, every twitch of your brows, every gasp and moan that tumbled from your lips.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his hand trailing up your body, fingers wrapping around your throat, just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. “So fucking desperate.” You whimpered, your hands flying up to grasp at his wrist, not to pull him away but to hold onto him, to ground yourself in the overwhelming pleasure.

His thumb dragged over your lower lip, pressing against the soft flesh before slipping into your mouth. “Suck.” You obeyed without thinking, lips wrapping around his thumb, tongue swirling over the pad of it as you gazed up at him with glassy eyes. “Fuck,” he muttered, his restraint snapping.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth, replacing it with his lips as he kissed you with a hunger that left you breathless. His pace quickened, hips slamming into yours with a force that made the bed creak beneath you.

The shift in tempo had you gasping, whimpering against his mouth, your legs wrapping around his waist, heels digging into his lower back, pulling him in deeper. The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the rhythmic, wet sounds of him fucking into you, mixed with your broken moans and his deep, raspy groans.

“You take me so fucking well,” he praised, his lips dragging down your jaw, to the curve of your neck, where he sucked and nipped, leaving his mark. “My good girl. So tight. So perfect.”

Your body arched into him, every nerve ending ignited, your head spinning with pleasure. You could feel it building again—that familiar, fiery coil in your stomach, tightening with every thrust, with every filthy word he whispered into your ear.

“Sunghoon—” You gasped, hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. “I’m—” He groaned, sensing exactly how close you were.

“Not yet,” he growled, pulling out almost completely before slamming back inside you, his pace relentless now, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing in tight circles that had you trembling. “You’re gonna cum when I say you can, baby.”

You whined, body betraying you, your walls fluttering around him, your muscles locking up as you teetered on the edge of oblivion. “Hold it.” His voice was dark, commanding, but his own resolve was slipping. He was close too, his thrusts growing erratic, deeper, harder.

You couldn’t. You physically couldn’t. Your body was on fire, your mind blank, pleasure consuming you whole. “Sunghoon, please,” you sobbed, shaking beneath him.

His hand wrapped around your throat again, squeezing just enough to send you spiraling, his voice a breathy groan as he finally gave you permission.

“Cum for me.”

And you did.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, so intense it stole the breath from your lungs, your vision blurring as your body convulsed beneath him. Your walls clenched around him, pulsing, milking him for everything he had.

“Fuck—” Sunghoon groaned, his movements growing sloppy, his grip tightening as he buried himself deep inside you, his own release hitting him like a freight train. His body tensed, his cock throbbing as he spilled inside you, filling you with warmth, his breath ragged against your ear.

The room was silent except for the sound of heavy breathing, both of you completely spent, bodies tangled together in the sheets. Sunghoon pressed lazy kisses to your jaw, your collarbone, your lips, his touch softer now, almost gentle.

Your body felt weightless, as if you were floating in the haze of pleasure that still clung to you, leaving you warm and blissfully dazed. Your limbs were heavy, spent, but his touch—gentle, soothing—kept you tethered to reality.

“You okay?” Sunghoon murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion, but still laced with concern. His fingers found your face, brushing away the damp strands of hair sticking to your forehead. His eyes, still dark with the remnants of desire, softened when they met yours.

You nodded weakly, your body still buzzing, your mind slow to catch up. He smirked, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips, slow and tender, as if savoring the taste of you, before rolling onto his back and pulling you with him. Your body draped over his chest, his warmth seeping into you, anchoring you in a way that made you want to stay like this forever.

His fingers traced absentminded patterns along the bare skin of your back—slow, lazy circles, up and down your spine, making you shiver despite the heat radiating from his body. His other hand, rough yet careful, brushed over your arm, then your waist, like he couldn’t bear to stop touching you, like he needed to remind himself that you were still there, tangled up with him in the sheets.

A deep sigh left his lips, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath you, the rhythm soothing, hypnotic. You pressed your cheek against his heart, listening to the soft thump, feeling the way it still raced slightly, evidence of how much he had wanted you, how much you had affected him.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable; it was full, heavy with unspoken words, but not in a way that begged for answers. It was enough just to be here, wrapped up in each other, breathing the same air, feeling the same warmth.

Then, after a moment, his hand came up to cup the back of your head, his fingers threading into your hair, massaging your scalp in slow, rhythmic motions. A small hum of pleasure escaped you at the comforting sensation, making him chuckle under his breath.

“Feels good?” he murmured, his lips brushing the top of your head. You nodded again, too content to form words.

He shifted slightly, adjusting so that you were more securely nestled against him, his grip tightening as if he were afraid you might slip away. “I like this,” he admitted, voice quieter now, more raw. “Having you like this. Feels… different.”

You lifted your head slightly, just enough to look at him, your fingers trailing over his collarbone, tracing the defined lines of his chest. “Different how?”

His eyes flickered down to you, something unreadable swirling in them. His thumb stroked the curve of your hip, his lips parting slightly before he hesitated. Then, with a quiet sigh, he muttered, “I don’t know. Just… good.”

Your heart clenched at the way he said it—so unguarded, so unlike the teasing, cocky Sunghoon you were used to. This was different. This was intimacy in its purest form, something unspoken lingering between the two of you, too fragile to name, but too strong to ignore. You pushed yourself up slightly, just enough to hover over him, your fingers still lazily tracing along his chest. “You don’t have to say anything,” you whispered. “I get it.”

His gaze searched yours for a moment before he exhaled, a slow smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He reached up, brushing his knuckles against your cheek before guiding your lips back down to his. This kiss was different from before—no urgency, no hunger, just something soft, something deeper. He kissed you like he was trying to memorize you, like he wanted to leave a piece of himself behind in every press of his lips against yours.

You melted into him, sighing into the kiss, your hands coming up to frame his face, fingers tangling in his hair as he pulled you even closer. He kissed you slowly, taking his time, as if you had all the time in the world.

When he finally pulled away, his lips lingered against yours, his breath warm as he murmured, “Next time…” You swallowed, waiting, your body already shivering at the thought of what he might say next. “…I’m not letting you off so easy.” His voice was teasing, but the promise behind it sent a thrill down your spine.

You bit your lip, a lazy smile playing on your lips before leaning in to press a soft kiss against the sharp line of his jaw. “I think I’d like that,” you whispered, the tease in your voice making Sunghoon let out a low, satisfied chuckle.

Without a word, he pulled you in closer, rolling onto his side until your back was flush against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist with a possessive kind of ease. His hand smoothed over your stomach, fingertips tracing light patterns against your skin, grounding himself in the warmth of you.

He buried his face in your hair, inhaling deeply, and for a second, he just held you there—basking in the way you fit so perfectly against him. The thought crossed his mind, unbidden, that he liked having you like this, wrapped up in him, safe in his arms.

But he’d never admit that.

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author's note: SOOOOO.... LMAOOOOO READER IS THIS YOU RN?????

my best friend read this chapter and absolutely lost her mind so i’m taking that as a good sign LMAO also sorry for the length, i know it’s longer than usual but hopefully it’s worth it 👀

this is only the second smut scene i’ve ever written and i can’t believe it actually turned out good??? like hello since when do i have this talent i’m actually shook. anyway, i’m gonna take a little longer than usual to post the next update, so savor this one while you can 😌 BYEEEEE

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mariasont · 2 days ago

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maria's fic recs

i have realized how most of these are smut & idk what that says about me but alas this are some super super amazing talented people who write crazy cool stories!!!! check them out!!!!! make sure to follow, reblog & comment on these fics if you like them!!! these incredible fic writers deserve it! i will also probably be adding more as i read follow my fic rec page for more @mariasficrecs if anyone mentioned in this post wants to be removed let me know <3

spencer reid

cedar - @parfaitblogs summary: in which compatible bodies does not always mean compatible minds, but spencer reid is all too kind when you're like this, so perhaps you're allowed to forget that for a night.

this is the fic for the girlies who have loved someone more than they should, more than they loved you back and more than was every healthy. this is the kind of fic that makes you reread certain lines just to punch yourself in the chest a second time. masterpiece in pining, delusion, and tragic devotion. the most gorgeous piece of writing truthfully

in my dream im fixing your crutch - @notlongtolove summary: most nights, spencer wakes to the sound of your sniffles—unlike most nights, he doesn’t have to ask why. the reason is visceral, tangible—staining the sheets when the wound dressing wasn’t tight enough, seeping and pooling right between the both of you where an ocean of your guilt already lies.

this and everythingggg p writes is so incredibly SHATTERING in the best way possible. i truly need everyone to follow rn! and reader everything written by them! but this one specifically wasn't just a fic it was an experience. it's so painful and beautiful and so unfairly written. the duality of intimacy and violence is insaneeeeee like shakespearean level.

into the rose garden; for evermore - @notlongtolove summary: months of hope, weeks of ache. you’ve stayed. you’ve waited. you’ve stayed in the waiting. more pathetic than poetic if you’re being honest. but now, with him standing here with his heart in his hands, it doesn’t feel simple.

might be my favorite fic ive ever read if im being honest. everything about it had me sobbing like a baby. it's not even angst at this point it's a biblical reckoning. p has made heartbreak into a single character, personified pain and i felt every freaking piece of it actually! every single line was freaking perfection & you get to choose your ending!!!!!!! because user notlongtolove is so cool and so creative.

i can do a lot with fifteen minutes - @reidrum summary: in which you and spencer don't make it out the door on date night

i love a sabrina reference (clearly) and this was just the perfect smut fic literally like poetry disguised as desire. i have read a lot of smut (u got me). but nothing compares to a good intimate zipper scene. i will eat it up everytime!!!!!!! and a mirror scene!!!!! double whammy. fantastic 10000/10

hypothalamus - @reidrum summary: in which spencer gets creative on helping you study for your exam

godddddds to have spencer reid talk nerdy to me in bed. so in character. essentially the anatomy lesson of the gods actually. so amazing

sobriquet - @siriuslylantsov summary: spencer reacts to you calling him a nickname for the first time.

so sweet, so fluffy, a love letter to everything good in the world, essentially love seeping into mundane which is my favorite genre!!!! waking up with spencer!! being in love!! angel!!!! i love spencer calling the reader angel girl!!!!! <3

sweeter - @siriuslylantsov summary: in which, you and spencer try out foodplay, through use of whipped cream.

whipped cream!!!!!!!!! i dont have many words other than that! must read

white noise - @brattyspence summary: spencer x reader -- a situationship defined by white noise; a metaphor for how we pacify ourselves and make stupid decisions to experience comfort, even when it hurts

visceral, soul-shattering, gut wrenching agony. that's about it. slow burn destruction that will have you crying. no doubt. this fic literally lulls you into a false sense of security and then u realize that spencer is white noise and that you'd rather have whatever this is than nothing at all. LOL! definitely did not almost kill me while reading. most accurate portrayal of a situationship

chateau lobby #4 - @burymagdalene summary: Whilst trying to navigate romantic relationships after prison, Spencer finds himself in love and caught in an all-too-serious non-relationship with reader. Wanting to break this streak, he asks to spend Valentine's Day properly with a real date. Afterward, they find themselves desperate with trying to express their love for each other.

so as you might be able to tell i have a pattern of reading situationship spence! call me a masochist! but this one had a happy ending okay!!!!!!!! and a reference to father john misty? yes. immediately. i also just love post prison reid because he's so complicated and different but still him and he doesnt think he deserves soft things and soft love and it's so devastating. reading the date literally felt like falling in love in real time. so good.

a closed mouth doesn't get fed - @burymagdalene summary: When reader notices Spencers dark circles and glossy eyes, they store away their pressing need for him in bed. This desire locked away forms into a wet dream that escalates their prior expectations substantially.

one of the best portrayals of sleep-deprived, love-drunk, desperate sex. that's it. that's the tweet. also when he switches the reader's straw like why was that so sweet to me im crying

xoxo - @pathologicalreid summary: in which your daughter goes to the BAU to hand out her extra Valentines

peak domesticity. i love girl dad spence so much it's not even funny. it's everything he deserves. like i can only hope in some alternate au this is the ending reid got <3

to talk is to bare - @esote-rika summary: three times you've never felt enough for Spencer Reid—and the three times he rectified it immediately

one of the most painfully real depiction of navigating self worth in a relationship with spencer. like exactly what i feel like it would be like to be with someone so brilliant and like so unattainable-seeming, while feeling ordinary and yet spencer makes the reader feel so special ugh

in infinite universes - @nereidprinc3ss summary: in which spencer reid picks up uni!reader from a party. you're drunk, and he's in love with you

there is not a single thing (cannot emphasize this enough) that i won't read from nereidprinc3ss okay? everything she writes is actually literary gold. but this one was so beautiful it almost hurts to reid because it's literally a love letter to inevitability!!!!! and the dialogue is so funny and flirty and so spencer and ugh it's so raw and real.

spencer reid & aaron hotchner

unknown territory - @minswriting Spencer walks in on Aaron going down on you. So he watches the two of you have sex.

had to take multiple breathers after reading this! everyone knows i love hotch and reid and even more so i loveeeee a why choose. also everything min writes is so hot, 10/10 recommend checking out her account. "reid, if you're going to stand there and watch, you can at least come in and close the door" hello????????? immediately yes.

aaron hotchner

crazy - @kimstills summary: after one heated and spontaneous night together, aaron can’t seem to get his pretty subordinate (or her pussy) out of his head.

i did in fact read this bad boy like three times because it's that good. it perfectly mirrors hotch's mental state which i love love love. and i just love a smutty fic that has the best escalation of tension, like it builds until hotch physically cannot take it anymore and shewwwww so hot. exactly what i want in a hotch smut fic

savor - @kimstills summary: after being compromised to working a case the next day, aaron decides on savoring your current moment together for when he’s gone.

maddie is just always going to make the hottest aaron hotchner smut. the fact that this idea comes to aaron mid fuck is wild and i love it LOL.

morphine - @luveline summary: you get a good dose, confess your affections, and leave poor, oblivious hotch to fix things up neatly.

so if you follow my fic rec blog you know i literally reblog absolutely everything jade writes because it is just that fantastic. and this one is just soooo tender and so perfectly in character with hotch. if you are looking for truly amazing characterizations of hotch and reid !!!!! right here besties !!!!

filthy flat-pack thoughts - @alinathinkstoomuch summary: you had taken the day off to get yourself settled into your new apartment, not expecting hotch to show up at your door and offer a hand.

hey so firstly im just obsessed with the title, idk why it scratches something in my brain. and i feel like this fic should be illegal because it's not just smut-adjacent, it's foreplay with no touching, sexual frustration in furniture assembly and poor decisions lolol and again everyone who knows me knows i eat upppppp sexual tension and this fic was just that. there is literally no kisses no sex nothing and it's still one of the hottest fics i've ever read (there is also a smutty part two so go check that out as well)

can't lose when i'm with you - @aureatelys summary: You work as a beverage cart girl at your local country club and your dad ropes you in to make him look good during a business meeting with his new best friend.

dbf hotch is my weakness. the slow burn!!!!!! possessive hotch!!! daddy hotch!!!! this is the gold standard for dbf hotch truly. felt like i needed a cigarette after and i don't even smoke

red light kiss - @aureatelys summary: You haven't had sex in a week, you're stuck in the car with your new boyfriend/boss, and he's wearing that damn Kevlar vest. How could you resist?

hey yeah so i was positively feral after reading this actually. that damn kevlar vest is right. idk how you managed to make a blowjob in a government vehicle feel romantic but you did so bravo

tyrant - @solardrop summary: Hotch lets you take some anger out on him after he disrespects you on a case.

my favorite genre !!!!!!! making hotch shut up by sitting on his face! mhm mhm mhm. absolutely amazing use of free will was you writing this because i've read it at least 5 times minimum. i was forever changed after this

salt & pepper - @dudeitiskarev summary: dad bod and insecure Hotch. That’s it.

everything cat writes is just so crazy good but everyone knows i have such a weakness for dad bod hotch & this is the absolute perfect fic for it.

we can't be friends (wait for your love) - @cerisereids summary: down on your luck after a huge betrayal, you return to live at your father's house with your tail between your legs. you're humiliated, thoroughly convinced nothing good could come from returning home. then you meet aaron hotchner.

there are three parts to this masterpiece and i need everyone to read them all okay? because it's just so good. hotch flustered is my roman empire and grrrrrr this man was literally on his knees for the reader internally through out the whole thing & once again dbf!hotch!!!!! arghhh obsessed

#aaron hotchner x reader #spencer reid x reader

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aliceinborderlandsquidgame · 3 days ago

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Not on the carpet! | The Salesman x Wife!Reader |

Notes: Different from the other ones. Reader knows what his husband does for work.

Summary: Your dear Husband comes home with blood and all you want is it to not touch the dam carpet!!

Warnings: Blood - Canon Violence - Suggestive -

The Salesman knows he is not looking his best right now. Not after having to kill some people who were getting too close to the truth of the games.

And he knows what his dear wife will say once he opens the door. Instead of a warm smile a look of panic will be there. Not for him.

"Dont let that blood fall on the carpet!" You tell him in a stern tone coming to greet him when you did hear the door open but stopped after seeing the blood on him.

"Hello my Love. I hope your day went better than mine" He says pulling off his suit jacket but not moving from the entrance.

Last time he did get blood on the carpet not only was he forced to clean it himself. He was banned to the guest room (no problem the bed its comfortable). But his lovely wife banned him of sex. For a week. And she did nothing but keep temting him all week. Wearing pajama shorts that barely covered her ass and let him see her legs. Light colored shirts that let him see her tits and nippels.

Oh, how he wanted to just throw you over the table and fuck you nice and rough. Make you forget your name and only know his. He wanted you to regret it.

But he had to demostrate he did have some self control. So on the last night exaclty when the clock did hit the final time he was on you like a dog in heat. Pulling you over his lap, touching all the exposed skin and leaving bruises behind.

And while that sex was amazing. He would prefer to not be on another week without sex.

"Here" You did appear again giving him a big plastic bowl so he could put his dirty clothes in. "I will wash it later. I can only imagine how much of a pain its going to be" Your face did show the small anger towards it.

"Sorry Love. But the blood of these worms seems to be as dirty as them" He responded removing his tie too.

"You are not injured, right?" You asked seeing some blood on his cheeck but he just dismisses your question with a move of his hand. "Good. Let me get you some cotton and water then"

"Im finally allowed inside my home?" He half joked as he saw you go then do a stop and look back at him. "It did not get on my shirt I promise"

He remembers that one time when it did get on his shirt. He had to sat for then minutes of you scolding him.

"...Then come. But you know what will happen if I see a single blood drop!"

The Saledman groaned following you into the big bathroom taking a seat on the toilet. "Not sex ban again my Love" He begged pulling you close so he could get his face against your stomach "Jerking off to pictures of you or videos of us its never enough. I need the real thing" To add his point he gives your ass a firm grip.

You try to ignore him as you get some water and cotton to clean off the blood from his face.

"Dont be a baby" Its your response as you slowly clean his handsome face. Glad to see that there are not injuries but just dry blood as he said. "And you did make up for it when the week ended" You added the memory still fresh on your mind.

"I came so fast" He says his eyes never leaving you. Him falling for you soft touch. "I was inside you and then I just filled you up so fast" he sounded so dissapointed with himself.

"You did. But it was a lot. I believe we should let your balls get as much cum as they can so you can fill me up really nice"

The Salesman let out a small sound between a laught and a groan. "Dont make me pull you against that wall...I still need to shower so you dont get the smell of these men"

You smiled at his possessive nature giving him a kiss on the head once you were done cleaning him.

"And I havent finish making your favorite food. So looks like we both will have to attend diferent things before I can greet you properly"

"You are my favorite food. You always taste so divine. I wish I could be between your legs all day. Making you cum over and over again. Getting all of hit on my face and chin. I will lick it up so good. You would be crying from how much stimulation you are getting. But I know you would not care about it. You would let me keep going, because you love me. And you love what I do to you"

You blushed hard under his gaze and his smirk. He was not wrong. And that scene did happen once. You were so wasted after it...you could barely walk let alone think straight. You were like a doll and he loved it. He loved being the cause of your pleasure.

"Yeah well. Maybe later" one look from him made you crumble. There was not a "maybe" it was a "defenetly" and part of you believed he would not wait till you ended dinner.

"Its a promise my Love" He said kissing your hand and wrist. He closed his eyes as he smelled your skin. Oh how he loved it. It was just...you and it was all he needed. "Go and try finishing that dinner for me. But...maybe I will skip it and go for the special plate of the house"

You let out a small smile your face burning. "Go on, get on that shower first" You said leaving him to be "I will bring you a new set of fresh clothes"

"Thanks Love" Your Husband responded removing his shirt in order to get inside the shower, his mind already thinking on the idea of having you for himself once he removes the smell of these worms from himself.

And, oh how much he is going to enjoy every second of it.

#squid game imagines #squid game x y/n #squid game x reader #the salesman x reader #the Salesman #the recruiter x reader

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heart-of-light-and-darkness · 3 days ago

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"I should have listened to you." I admit to War as I down another glass of sweet tea that Famine had poured for me. I smile in thanks to the elderly looking entity as she adds another stack of tamales to my plate. I had already eaten three plate fulls, but her cooking was so good it always left me hungry for more. Every time I saw her, it was like looking at someone's grandma.

"I told you so," war replied with a gruff scoff as he rolled his eyes. "I told you not to listen to my older brother. But does anyone ever listen to me? NoOoOo! I'm just war, the muscle head jock that only knows how to fight." He growls in frustration as he slams a fist on the table, causing the drinks and chip dip to wobble and the audible cruch of chips being crushed.

"Hey, hey! Watch the snacks meathead!" Famines voice rasps as she quickly moves the dip to safety. "That's was pur last bag of chips! Keep this up, and you won't be getting any desert after dinner, young Sprite!"

"It's always the last bag of chips," war retorted. "Just go to the pantry and get more.... and quit with the old lady act. We are all the same age!" Famine grumbles as she gets up, stomping off to the kitchen. War turns his eyes back onto me, the fire in them narrowing. "And don't think I didn't notice you putting the moves on my big sister, angle." He warned as he reached for his belt and slapped something on the table. It was hard to look at as its form kept changing. The only thing certain about it was it was a weapon of war. From guns to spears to swards to even a miniture helicopter, the weapon kept shifting. I think at one point I saw a mushroom cloud.

Quickly shaking the sunspots out of my vission i find my voice. "I assure you war, I was being sincere when I said Death had great cheekbones. And her smile is very calming and kind."

"Really now, lil' bro? Threatening our guests before the game even begins?" Came a jovial voice from the doorway. Walking in came a man that was near identical to War, except for one key difference. Whereas war was dressed in a tight fitting green shirt that showed off his muscles and camo pants, this guy was wearing the world's ugliest Hawaiian shirt and boardshorts. He ruffled wars hair with a smile. "You need to relax, man. Otherwise, you'll have the cramps when it finally comes time to ride. Besides, dont the mortals have a say: all is fair in love and war?"

"Stop touching me Conquest!" War whined, slapping his hand away as conquest sits next to him. "And your not love dumbass!"

"Are you sure about that?" Conquest teased. "Don't done people call it conquering the heart? I'm just saying, I think I would do a better job then cupid." Conquest says will giving the biggest shit eating grin to me. The grin was unsettling, being all teeth and no warmth. "Or of course you could always do a different kind of conquering in the bed ro-"

Conquest was interrupted by a slipper hitting him in the head. "While I am all for satiatings ones cravings, could you ot be so crass when talking about potential love lifes that may include our sister? Besides, you're freaking out the angle." Famine said, carrying out more chips and other asortsments of food, noticeably missing a slipper on one of her feet. "Now hurry up and help me set the table. Death said she would be late because of working late. So eat up and them we can head out and meet her at that nee club Odin just opend." As we set the table Famine leans over and wispers, "Oh and angel? Maybe this time, you should let Loki be your wing man. She is much more sensible then my himbo of a brother."

So far you have had a date with Destiny, flirted with Death, and danced with the Devil. You're going to have a serious chat with your wingman next time you go clubbing.

#writting prompt #four horsemen of the apocalypse #famine #war #conquest #readers viewpoint #idk i just liked the image of famine being a grandma that is worried her “grandkids” are not getting enough to eat

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quokkicidal · 3 days ago

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How you match with skz…

Genre: Fluff, Imagine

Warnings: Reader is implied afab in Jisungs

Summary: Your matching things w/ skz!

Requests open

Masterlist

.•♫•♬• . •♬•♫•. .•♫•♬• . •♬•♫•. .•♫•♬• . •♬•♫•. .

Chan:

Matching hoodies. Chan and his hoodies, but wait, what if you had one. No need to imagine because he already bought you a matching one. if he shows you one he likes, he asks if you want one, and of course you say yes. He gets so giddy when you say yes and buys them right away. When they arrive, he washes them and stands by the dryer so they’re still nice and warm when he takes them out. Literally is so sweet and hugs you after you put it on.

Minho:

Matching cat beanies. This man loves his cats the way fish love water, so of course you’re getting matching cat beanies. Before he buys them he sends you a picture. “Do you want to be the orange cat or the black cat?” Which ever you choose, he’ll get the opposite, so you’re more of a pair than fully matching. Although, his cats don’t seem to like it that much. He sends you a video of Dori being scared of him while he has it on.

Changbin:

Matching gym bags. We all know that he loves the gym, and he loves you. So, that concluded in him buying matching gym bags for you guys. Even if you dont go to the gym, he still wants to match. If you don’t go to the gym, of course you’re still gonna use it. You’ll use it when you go on trips for your cloths. But if you don’t go to the gym. He’ll make sure that everyone sees that you have matching bags. “Oh you like my bag, me and my partner have matching ones.” He’s so proud of it. He also makes you do the heart flexing pose, iykyk.

Hyunjin:

Matching necklaces. I believe that Hyunjin is definitely a jewelry giver. Like he will buy you a necklace with a heart on it. Oh and on the back of that heart are his initials because he thinks it’s sweet that wherever you go, he’s with you in some way. Of course your initials are on the back of his for the same reason. Every time he sees you he touches the necklace and turns it around to see his name. When he’s away on tour, he’ll turn his around and kiss where your initials are, subtly hoping that you’ll start thinking of him.

Felix:

Matching socks. This man loves subtle romance, if you can even call matching socks that. He doesn’t buy not one, not two, but probably twelve packs of matching socks. You always tell each other when you’re wearing them so it makes it even more fun. Sometimes he will literally take his shoes off just to show you. On days he wears them, he’ll text you, “Wear the chickens today,” or “the dogs have dogs on them.” When he gets back from tour, you WILL be getting more socks from the places he’s been.

Jisung:

Matching phone cases. It would probably be a clear case, but you guys have matching stickers and Polaroids in them. If he’s ever overseas and needs a little pick me up, he can just look at the picture of you in the back of his phone. Sometimes he’ll even be dramatic to the other members saying, “I MISS MY WIFE!” He acts like you’re away at war or something. The other guys are so used to it by now.

Seungmin:

Matching nothing cuz he doesn’t want to (you guys have matching note books that he picked up in japan). He usually uses his for journaling/song writing, but whenever you have yours out, he’s doodling in it. Sometimes you wonder how some of the drawings got in there cuz you didn’t see him do it. Little do you know, sometimes he takes your journal and draws and leaves little messages so you can see them on a random Tuesday.

Jeongin:

You guys actually have a lot of matching stuff believe it or not. Whenever he buys something he thinks, “Oh Y/N would like this too.” Like that man picks up matching perfumes/colognes, hats, jackets, shoes, you name it. Whenever he posts his ootd on intsa, he makes sure he takes some pictures with you too, that’s why he has a new lock screen almost every week.

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hyohaehyuk · 3 days ago

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I was a bit skeptical at first but it seems this person works in the entertainment industry so it makes sense Jacob had said confidencial things to her

#jam reiderson #jacob anderson #sam reid #interview with the vampire #iwtv #it seems some people (read Sam/Lestat haters) are getting mad about this #there are people in this fandom who seem to not know how to distinguish a character from an actor #and now they want to prohibit Jacob from liking Sam.#i wanted to believe that just like me they was skeptical but notice the tweet that trigged them and made them tried to denied it happened #is the one where it says “it's Sam season” and not the one where it says “we spoke about some production stuff”#I think some IWTV fans need to go touch some grass #Maybe go seek theraphy. Even better just get out of this fandom.#Pretty sure there are better ones where the cast all hate each other & you can be mean to everyone besides your fav #Jacob would be so ashamed to see how some of u hate his bff.#I am pretty sure he would have u all blocked if he was on iwtvtwt #Stop being so parasocial. you dont know him. you are not his friend to know how he is feeling.#u have to be really delusional to think how you feel is what Jacob is feeling. That is just u projection how u feel about S3 into Jacob.#stealing fujoconnor tweets #it must burn these people up something so disgustingly fierce to know how much jacob loves and supports sam #and is excited for his season which is really so unfortunate that it doesn’t fit the propaganda they’ve been spreading.#do you know how beyond just clinically insane but just deeply sinister and fucked up you have to be as an individual to #really take someone’s wholesome moment with jacob and try and spin it as “a coverup/distraction for the anti blackness of this fandom”

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vnti-vnxiety-recs · 22 hours ago

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Learning Curves 2 (M)

★ PAIRING: 00line+Mark x Reader ☆ WORD COUNT: 30k ★ GENRE(S): Smut, PWP, just vibes frfr ☆ SUMMARY: After spending Winter break with Jisung's family, you and Mark reignite a friendship that evolves into FWB. However, when the 00line discovers that you've been skipping out on time with them to be with Mark, they aren’t too pleased. ★ ☆ WARNINGS: Unprotected sex. creampie, riding, dry humping, cunnilingus, bdsm, leash, use of spreader bar, iceplay, orgasm denial, fingering, voyeurism, shower sex, blowjob, lip biting which causes minor injury, switch Haechan, guided masturbation, choking, slapping, rough/forceful sex, thigh riding, slight coercion, reader gets train ran on her, free use?, MDNI ☆★ NOTES: I’m trying something new where I link the sex position im talking about because i suck at describing them so i usually try to stay away from anything other than missionary and doggy but thats lame and i want to write interesting sex scenes so if your confused on what the hell I'm talking about during a scene just click the link for the photo lmaoooo. LCpt.1 Here ao3 Link (like here before you leave TT)

You pull the blanket tighter around you, trying to warm up. Your space heater is humming in the background hard at work, but it's still not enough to fully heat up the apartment. You've been complaining about the heating system for weeks, and now it seems to have finally broken down.

You scroll through your social media feed and see videos of your friends laughing with their families, enjoying the holiday season together. Honestly, it makes you smile. You're genuinely happy for them, even if it stirs a little longing in your heart. You had opted out of going home for the holidays, you didn’t have the best relationship with your family so you were more than content with staying home. You double-tap on each post when a notification pops up. It's Jisung, he was going home today and had been begging you to come over to help him pack.

You [2:31 pm] Ji for the last time its too cold to go anywhere I finally got warm and Im not getting up again

Ji [2:32 pm] come on!!!! I dont ask you for anything plus how many favors do you owe me??? >:(

With a sigh of frustration, you toss off the blankets. The cold air instantly bites at your skin. It was a lot chillier in your apartment than you realized.

You shiver as you layer up and put on your good boots, the thought of Jisung's warmer apartment lifting your spirits for the time being.

Outside, you have to be careful with your footing. You cautiously make your way to your car and drive to his dorm. When you arrive, you knock and as soon as he opens the door, you reach out and pinch his arm.

“Oww, oww, oww!” He yelps, rubbing at the spot you’d pinched.

“Do you know how cold it is out there?!” you exclaim pushing past him into the room.

You surveyed his dorm room, your gaze taking in the chaotic scene before you. There were mountains of discarded clothes scattered across the floor, seemingly the result of Jisungs carelessness as he rushed to pack. Carefully making your way through the haphazard landscape, you navigate your way toward his bed.

Jisung ignores your complaints, bustling around the room and shoving a few last-minute items into his suitcase. “Listen, I’m sorry! Can you just come sit on this for a sec?” he whines.

You huff but get up anyway. You plop down on his suitcase successfully compressing it while Jisung zips it closed. He fell back onto the floor with a satisfied sigh. You spend the next few minutes helping him straighten up before finally collapsing onto his warm bed. "So," you asked, settling back against the pillows, "is your family doing anything special for the holidays?"

“Yeah, my grandma rented a cabin for the family get-together,” he says, and suddenly looks at you in realization. “Wait, why are you still here? You’re not going home for the holidays?” He asks eyes wide in disbelief.

You shrug, the truth spilling out before you can stop it. “Nah, I don’t really get along with my parents.”

Jisung's expression shifts to concern. “Come home with me! You can’t stay by yourself over the holidays. It would be so much fun!”

You hesitate, considering his offer. You’ve always had a good relationship with Jisung’s family. They’ve welcomed you before, and his mom cooks like a dream. It feels tempting, but you worry about intruding.

“Are you sure it’s not too last minute?” you ask, biting your lip.

Jisung shakes his head vigorously, a determined look on his face. “My mom would kill me if she found out I let you spend the holidays alone. She always says her door is open for you, and I know she’d be so happy to see you. Plus, it’d make things way more fun!”

Maybe your winter break wouldn’t be so bad after all.

—

"You have reached the mailbox of…"

Ever since winter break, that’s all Haechan had been hearing. You’d been taking hours to respond to his texts, ignoring his and everyone's calls, and overall being pretty flaky. Whenever they pressed you an explanation, you just responded with half-hearted excuses.

I’m busy.

Sorry, can’t talk right now.

I’ll call you back later.

Finally after several failed attempts he managed to get you to come over under the pretext of a movie night with the guys. You were bundled up together under a heavy blanket, Haechan on one side and Jaemin on the other. The warmth of their bodies keeps away the night's chill. Haechan was working his hand up your thigh when your phone buzzed, casting a soft glow across your face. The smile that spread on your lips made his stomach twist with jealousy. You quickly typed something back and locked your phone before he could catch a glimpse of what had made you light up.

You let out a fake yawn, stretching your arms above your head. “Sorry, guys, I think I’ll have to call it a night.”

Before he could protest, you were already gathering your things. “You don’t want to stay for a little while longer. We’ve only got an hour left of the movie,” Jeno called from his spot on the couch, looking slightly disappointed.

“Sorry pup, I can’t,” you said, walking over to him and stealing a quick peck on his lips.

As you turned to leave, Haechan couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. When the door closes behind you he turns to his roommates. “She’s replacing us, isn’t she?” Haechan muttered.

“Dude, relax. It’s late she’s probably just tired,” Jeno replied, trying to be the logic that Haechan seemed to lack.

“Well, she could have slept over here! Nothing was stopping her before!” Haechan shot back.

“Would you two shut up? I’m trying to watch the movie!” Renjun snapped, glancing at them with irritation.

“And I’m trying to fuck, so I guess we’re both out of luck!” Haechan grumbled, throwing his head back against the couch.

Jaemin, who had been quietly huddled under the blanket, suddenly yanked it away from Haechan, seemingly unwilling to share any longer now that you were gone. “Jeno’s right, she’s probably just tired. Besides, how could she replace us?”

Haechan wanted to believe Jeno, to cling to the hope that you were telling the truth and were just too busy. But as the minutes passed and the movie flickered on, he couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in his gut that something else was going on.

—

You were sitting at your vanity, doing your makeup when your phone buzzed with a notification. A smile crept onto your face as you read the message. Once you slipped on your heels by the door, you left your apartment and headed to join your friends waiting in the car.

“Where is he?” Mia asked curiously.

“He’s going to meet me there,” you replied, feeling your heart flutter in excitement at the thought of seeing him.

“I can’t believe you two are talking again!” Yuna cooed, her eyes wide with playful disbelief.

The car was filled with the sound of laughter and gossip as you caught up with your friends, sharing stories about what happened over winter break. You can't help but sing along to the music that plays in the car as your friends chatted excitedly about the night ahead. You belted out the lyrics to your favorite song, your voice a little off-key but you don’t care, you were tipsy and in a great mood. You felt a twinge of guilt for forcing the uber driver to listen to your terrible singing and the all-too-detailed gossip.

Once you arrive at the party, the bass of the music has your blood rushing with excitement. The living room was packed with people on the makeshift dance floor. You and the girls quickly made your way to the kitchen, where the clinking of glass and shouts of joy sound off into the night. You grabbed a couple of drinks and toasted to a night of fun.

It wasn’t long before your friends began to scatter, each one disappeared into the sea of bodies, eyes sparkling with trouble as they searched for their one-night stands. You didn’t mind, you hadn’t come to the party for them. Your heart was set on finding the one person you had been eagerly waiting to see all night. With a determined smile, you navigated through the crowded living room.

“Mark!” you called, spotting him talking with a few friends. As soon as he heard your voice, he looked up and broke into a smile. He quickly made his way over and engulfed you in a warm hug.

“You look so pretty, baby,” he said, eyes roaming over the dress you had picked out for the night.

You turn shy under his compliment. “Thank you,” you murmured, feeling a timid smile tugging at your lips.

Mark turned to his friends and excused himself, allowing you to drag him away. The house was dimly lit but you could still see how excruciatingly handsome he was under the flashing lights. You navigated through the mass of people until you reached the dance floor. His hands found your waist. He pulled you against him, your back pressed firmly against his chest before swaying your hips in time with the music.

His breath fanned against your neck as he leaned in. “Pretty girl…” he murmured, trailing hot kisses down your neck. “Want me to take you home?”

You catch his gaze as you look at him over your shoulder. His eyes are dark with desire and you can feel yourself growing wet already. You turned in his embrace until you were facing him, pressing your lips against his as you nodded eagerly. He grabbed your hand, leading you through the crowd, a wicked smile dancing on your face as you followed him.

Once outside, he pushed you up against his car, his lips claiming yours again. You hear the car beep as he fumbles with his keys to unlock it. Your hands tangled in his hair as he explored your body, fingers gliding up your thigh and pushing your dress dangerously high. You needed him now, you couldn’t wait. Glancing around to ensure the coast was clear, you pulled him into the backseat of the car, the tinted windows providing the perfect level of privacy.

Unbeknownst to you, another car had been watching you since they pulled up nearby. Renjun, Jeno, Haechan, and Jaemin were inside, their eyes locked onto the scene unfolding before them.

Renjun had given everyone a pep talk on the drive here about finding someone to hook up with to distract from thoughts of you. Renjun had put the car in park when he saw you stumbling across the street.

“Is that Jisung’s cousin?” Renjun asked, squinting at the sight before him.

“Where?” Haechan perked up, looking up from his phone.

“So that's where she’s been?” Jaemin questioned.

“No way, maybe they’re just friends,” Jeno said, but he quickly corrected himself. “Or not,” he muttered, watching as Mark pushed you against the car and kissed you passionately.

A humorless laugh escaped Haechan’s lips. “I fucking told you guys.” He says, eyes following the way your fingers tangle in Mark's hair.

They had intended to get out of the car, but now they found themselves watching in stunned silence as the vehicle rocked and the windows fogged up. They weren’t quite sure how long they sat there until you finally slid out of the backseat, pulling your dress down haphazardly. a stupid grin plastered itself on your face as you climbed into the passenger seat.

Jaemin knew that look. You were fucked out and it was driving him up a wall that he wasn’t the one who did it.

“Don’t let this discourage you,” Renjun chimed in, forcing the most upbeat tone he could manage. “We can still have fun, right guys?” But one glance around the car told him it wasn't the right moment for another pep talk.

They had finally realized why you had been acting strange and no one was in the mood to party.

Earlier, inside the car…

Mark was lost in a haze of desire, pushing your dress up past your hips. His warm hands setting your skin ablaze against the cool night air. You straddled his waist and grind against him, the rough fabric of his jeans provided a delicious friction that left you shuddering. His lips left bruises along your collarbone, and you tugged at his hair, bringing him closer for another heated kiss. His lips were so soft, like plush clouds you could easily get lost in—they were absolutely perfect. You kissed him feverishly, your hands roaming over the skin beneath his shirt. Exploring the contours of his strong chest, your fingers trailed downward until they hovered at his waistband. You nipped at his bottom lip playfully before pulling away.

“Are you going to let me have it?” you asked sweetly, blinking up at him with pleading eyes.

“You deserve it, baby. Take it,” he breathed, his voice filled with urgency.

With a quick motion, you unzipped his pants and positioned yourself over him, tracing his tip through your folds, soaking him in your juices. Every brush against you sent shivers up your spine.

“That’s it, baby, just like that. It’s yours, go ahead,” he encouraged, his voice a low whisper.

You sank down onto him with a moan, feeling him fill you completely. He was deep and the sensation was everything you’d craved. You lost yourself in the rhythm, pulling him to kiss you again as you rode him. His hands grip your hips harshly as you take him. His breaths were choppy and his eyes fluttered, unable to stay open from the pleasure. You circle your hips fluidly, it was a trick that you knew drove haechan crazy, you wonder if it would work on mark?

HIs hips thrust up sharply and he groaned. He spread his thighs a little wider and tilted his head back. “Fuck,” he groaned, his breath hitching. “You feel so good.”

You were just getting started, you were going to drive him crazy. You slam your hips down hard, a sharp contrast of the precise movements a moment ago. You bounce on his cock roughly, grinding down hard when his hips meet yours. You leaned back on his knees for leverage and continued to ride him. His hands try to hold your hips still. He needed a moment, he didn't want to cum yet.

“Let go, baby, I got you,” you whispered, determined to push him to the brink.

He shook his head, desperation lacing his voice. “Not yet, I can’t.”

The next moment he's pulling you off of him. He was strong and despite your best efforts you couldn't stop him from switching your positions. He had pinned you down on your back, legs over his waist and lips pressed against yours. He needed a moment to catch his breath and he could tell from the look in your eyes you weren't going to give him one unless he took control.

“Be a good girl and do what I say,” he warned.

You nodded obediently. You would do whatever he wanted to get him back inside of you, you didn't care. “Keep those legs open,” he instructed, then finally pushed inside you.

You bite back a loud moan as he thrusts into you. His face was buried in your neck as he drove himself into you deeper and deeper. Your head was hitting the car door with each thrust but you were too far gone to care. You wrapped your legs tight around his waist and pulled him into you with each thrust. You were close and with a few more sharp thrusts you were spilling all over him and dripping down the leather seats of his car.

“Look at you, making such a mess,” Mark moaned, his grip tightening on your cheeks as he opened your mouth. “Dirty fucking girl,” he whispered before spitting into your mouth. His pointer and middle finger rest against your tongue as he makes sure you swallow it before hooking his fingers into your mouth. He fucks you like that, eyes glazed over as he watches you suck against his fingers

His hips grow erratic, the sight of you, saliva dripping down your face and pussy spasming around his cock in overstimulation pushed him over the edge. He came deep inside of you and watched the cum drip as he pulled out.

When you eventually slipped out of the car, a stupid smile plastered itself across your face. Clenching your legs tight, you tried to hold him inside as you settled into the passenger seat. Little did you know, four pairs of eyes were still watching from the distant shadows.

—

"So, where did you and Mark run off to last night?" Yuna asks, flanked by your other friends, Mia, Chenle, and Yang Yang, as you make your way to the library.

“A true lady never kisses and tells,” you respond, lifting your chin defiantly.

“Except you’re not a lady, you’re a whore,” Mia elbows you playfully. “Now spill! What’s going on with you and Mark? Last I checked, you ghosted him.”

“You guys are so nosy,” you roll your eyes.

“Stop acting like it’s not killing you to keep this a secret,” Chenle urges.

You huff, feigning annoyance. “Fine! Since you guys won’t stop hounding me…”

A chorus of cheers and laughter erupts from the group, and you can’t help but smile shyly.

“We started talking again over winter break, during Jisung’s family vacation.”

“Wait, he was there?” Chenle asks, surprised.

“Duh, idiot. It’s called a family vacation for a reason,” Yang Yang retorts, shoving Chenle lightly.

As the group grows increasingly chaotic, you near the library. “Alright, guys, I’ll tell you everything later, but for now, shoo! I’m meeting Mark at the library.”

A chorus of teasing “ooohs” rings out as you wave them away like pesky flies.

When you arrived with Jisung to spend the holidays with his family, you were completely surprised to see Mark roll in later that day. You hadn’t expected Mark to be there. You should have anticipated it, given that they’re cousins, but it totally slipped your mind. At first, it was awkward given the fact that you had ghosted him for seemingly no reason, and now here you were at his family vacation trying to make small talk.

You eventually hashed things out and grew closer. You spent the break catching up with Mark while hanging out with Jisung and his family. After the break, you had started hanging out alone more frequently. It felt like a spark reignited between you two.The tension in your hangouts grew, conversations became flirtatious, and lingering gazes turned heated, until one of those moments finally snapped. You and Mark tangled together, exploring each other desperately while he fucked you six ways to sunday. You had agreed to keep things casual, Mark had just gotten out of a relationship a few months ago and wasn’t ready to dive back in.

That’s what led you to your current situation.

It’s not that you wanted to flake on the guys; you just happened to be really into Mark right now. You used to be so down bad for him, and now that you finally had him in your clutches, you weren’t letting go anytime soon.

You're sitting at a table in the back of the library as you flip through the pages of your textbook. You burst into a fit of giggles at something Mark says. He was seated next to you, his own reading material disgarded as he leaned over your shoulder trying to help you study. The way he leans in, his warm breath grazing your ear as he explains the lesson, sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Meanwhile, Haechan, sitting with Renjun at a nearby table, narrows his eyes as he spots you and Mark at the back of the library. “She can’t be serious,” Haechan mutters, incredulous.

Mark is unnecessarily close, his finger tracing a line in your textbook. You catch his eye and share a playful glance, and it makes your heart race. Haechan groans in annoyance at your obvious flirting. The way you're biting your lip and laughing at everything Mark says was aggravating. There's no way Mark was that funny!

“Shhh! Ms. Song already said if she has to kick us out again, we’re banned from the library,” Renjun interjects quietly, shooting Haechan a sharp look.

“Is she seriously ditching us for him? What’s so special about him, anyway?” Haechan grumbles, crossing his arms. Here he was, supposed to be studying, having begged Renjun to tutor him, only to be distracted by you.

“After what we saw last night, he’s probably some kind of sex god. I mean, did you see the look on her face when they got out of the car?!” Renjun says sarcastically. A smirk creeped onto his face, knowing the image he just painted is pushing all of Haechan’s buttons.

“I could do that! That should have been me!” Haechan waves his hands in mock frustration, his voice rising a little too high.

“Shhh!” Renjun hisses again, glancing around nervously to see if anyone is listening.

“Do you even care?” Haechan whispers furiously, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Renjun lets out a long, exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Yes, I care, but unlike you, I’m mature enough to let it go! Now please,” he says, placing a finger over his lips in a quieting gesture.

Haechan grumbles under his breath but sinks back into his chair, arms crossed stubbornly. However, his eyes remain glued to you and Mark. He’s acutely aware that the lines etched across his forehead are deepening, and he’s sure he’ll regret it later when wrinkles form, but right now, he can’t tear himself away from the sight of Mark’s hand dipping below the table slyly.

—

You stood on the porch, knocking on the door a little louder than necessary. The cold weather seeped into your bones, and you hoped someone would be home to let you in. You had called earlier, but no one had answered. Mark was sick, and your other friends were all busy with work or studies. Bored out of your mind, you were looking for some fun.

You knew they were likely angry with you, after all, you'd been ignoring them for most of the week. Despite that, you felt confident they'd relent and let you in once they got a look at what you had on. Under your coat you made sure to dress in the shortest silk shorts and a top that was all cleavage and no coverage. Although you were practically freezing outside, you figured it was worth it for the extra brownie points it might earn you.

As you knocked again, a messy-haired Jeno opened the door. His headphones hung from his neck, and a gaming controller was in his hand. He looked surprised to see you, and for a moment, he simply stared. You smiled sweetly and ushered yourself inside as he stood frozen, his eyes fixed on your outfit.

Once you were warm and out of the cold, you looked around the quiet house for everyone else. "Where is everyone?" you asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Jeno shrugged, putting his controller down on the counter. "I don't know, they've been gone for a while." He raised an eyebrow, his gaze drifting to your cleavage again. "Who were you coming to see?"

You laughed and tilted your head, moving closer to him. "No one in particular. I was just bored and missed you guys."

"Missed us, but can't pick up the phone?" he joked, moving to sit on the couch.

You smiled and got comfortable on his lap,your legs caging him in as you straddled his waist. "Are you mad?" you asked him, your eyes meeting his.

Jeno shook his head softly, his gaze locked on your lips. "Could never be mad at you."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you felt your face heat up. Suddenly, you couldn't meet his gaze anymore.

Jeno leaned in, his voice teasing. "Why are you acting all shy, little bird?"

You bury your face in his neck. "You're making me nervous."

Jeno's hands moved to rest on the tops of your thighs, and he massaged the skin there. "Now you see how I feel. Come on, look at me."

You finally brought your gaze back to his, and Jeno's eyes locked onto yours. His expression was soft and adoring, and you felt a flutter in your chest. "We have some time before they get back," he said. "Let me have you to myself, hmm?"

You nod and his lips cover yours in a needy kiss, your tongues and teeth in a passionate battle. You hold on to his face, returning the kiss with just as much fever. You can feel his sharp jaw flex under your fingertips as his mouth opens wider and a low moan escapes him. His hands slide lower, resting on your ass before he sits up and effortlessly lifts you. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you to his bedroom, kicking the door closed behind him.

He drops you gently on the mattress, and you look up at him as he pulls his shirt off his body. The way he gazes down at you reveals the quiet longing in his eyes. He crawls onto the bed, looming over you with a teasing smile that makes your pulse quicken with excitement.

“Are you gonna be a big girl and take your clothes off, or do you need my help?”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down for another kiss. You feel playful as you brush your lips against his teasingly. “I think I can manage, but then again…” You give him a smirk. “If you’re offering your help, who am I to refuse?”

He closes the distance once more, smiling into the kiss as his hands deftly strip you of your clothes. Once he's got you naked he kicks off his jeans, the sound of fabric hitting the floor echoing in the quiet room. You reach for the waistband of his briefs, eager to take the next step, but he grabs your wrists, pinning them against the pillow.

“Let me take my time,” he warns.

He gropes your breasts, his hands warm as he teases your nipples, sending shivers of pleasure racing through your body. With a swift motion, he kicks your legs open, sliding a knee between them, and your hips automatically grind down against it, seeking the friction you desperately crave. Your body is restless and all you want is to put your hands on him, to feel every inch of his skin against yours.

In your fight to keep your hands still, they slip under the pillow, where your fingers graze something cool and leather. Curiosity piqued, you pulled it out, and your eyes widened at the sight before you.

“A leash?” you ask, your voice laced with surprise.

Jeno’s head pops up, his face turning beet red as he processes the leather leash and collar in your hands. He glances between the items and your face, his mouth open, fumbling with whatever sentence he's trying to form.

“Uh…I—” He stumbles over his words, clearly flustered, and you can’t help but chuckle at his reaction.

“Didn’t know you were this freaky,” you tease, arching an eyebrow as you lean in closer. “You like to leash your partners? Kinky.”

He looks down shyly, biting his lip in embarrassment. “No, that’s not it…”

An inquisitive “Hmm,” escapes your lips before the realization dawns on you. “No way! Our puppy likes to be leashed?” you say excitedly. “That’s so hot!”

In an instant, he snatches the items out of your hands, his cheeks still flushed. “You’re just teasing, it’s not funny,” he retorts, rolling his eyes.

“I’m serious,” you insist, grabbing his face to force him to meet your gaze. “I want to try.”

The look he gives you is one of pure puppy-dog innocence, those large, expressive eyes reflecting the desire that's swirling in his stomach. You can’t contain your excitement at the thought of slipping the collar around his neck. With careful hands, you tighten the collar and attach the leash, you smile at the dominance you now wield.

Giving an experimental tug, you pull him closer until he’s a breath away, his warm breath fanning across your skin. It’s like a light switch flips, suddenly he's looking down at you, gaze dark like a predator despite being the one leashed.

He lets you wrap your legs around his waist, your heels digging into his lower back as you urge his body closer. Jeno buries his face back into your chest, grinding against you, and you can feel the heat radiating from both of your bodies. You desperately cling to each other, hips moving with need, and you realize just how wet you are when the front of his briefs quickly become soaked by your arousal. Heaving breaths fill the room, mingling with your desperate moans that you can no longer hide. Each drag of his hips sends red hot pleasure through you, but you’re growing tired of his teasing. He knows what you want, all you can think about is feeling him inside you, but he seems determined to rile you up. You might be the one holding the leash, but somehow it feels like he’s still the one in control.

Frustrated, you tighten your grip, tugging him away from your chest. His forehead rests against yours giving you his full attention. Your hand trails down his body, skimming over his toned abs until you reach the waistband of his briefs. This time, he allows you to pull them down, and his eyes widen, round and innocent, as you grip him in your hand.

A low moan escapes him, reverberating through his body as he instinctively thrusts into your grasp. His eyes screw shut, and his head falls against your shoulder in sheer ecstasy. “That’s my good boy,” you whisper, a wicked smile curling your lips as pleasure overtakes him. His soft whimper in response makes you feel powerful.

But it's fleeting. He sits back, his leash glides between your fingertips as he pulls himself away from your grasp. He was still teasing and you were growing sick of it.

“Come on puppy, be good,” you coax. “I need you.”

A playful smile creeps across his lips. “You’ve got me,” he assures, finally relenting to the irresistible pull of your legs urging him inside of you.

In the next moment, he slips between your legs and slides into you. You’re so ready for him, slick and inviting, and you moan his name like a prayer. He has missed you—every delicious inch of you. He’s right where he needs to be.

Your grip on the leash tightens as he begins to fuck you with a steady rhythm. His hands grip your thighs roughly, pulling you against him with each thrust, making you feel every inch of him. When you slide up the bed, he yanks you back down and pins you in place to make you take it.

Suddenly, he manhandles you onto your side with ease, throwing one of your legs over his hip. His strokes turn deep and slow, hitting that spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back. You can’t help but squeeze him just right in this position, and he revels in it, those dark eyes locked onto yours with intensity.

His hands roam freely, groping and kneading your ass until he lands a harsh slap against the skin there, causing you to jolt in surprise. You glare at him playfully and in retaliation, you yank the leash roughly, asserting control. When his gaze meets yours, fire ignites behind those enticing eyes, and a wicked smirk dances across his lips.

He flips you over, twisting your body until you are on your hands and knees. He's on one knee behind you and the other is bent to keep your leg propped open. He drags his heavy cock through your wet folds, ready to take what’s his. He’s deep, you can barely catch your breath, each strong thrust knocking the air from your lungs. One of your legs is suspended over his and you're unable to do much but submit to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

You can feel your arms growing weak from holding yourself up, threatening to cave under the bliss. When Jeno notices, he deliberately drops his leg, and you collapse into a classic doggy style. Instantly, he pushes your head into the sheets, grinding into you before his hips pick up their relentless pace.

You moan loud and unashamed, surrendering completely to him as he continues to wreck you, his every thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. When you look back over your shoulder, your breath hitches at the sight.

Jeno's chest heaves up and down, sweat glistening and trickling down to his happy trail. His hair, once lightly tousled, now spikes up in every direction, a testament to the way you'd run your fingers through it. The collar sits snug around his neck—a beautiful accessory that seems to belong there. The chain of the leash thrashes wildly against his chest with each powerful thrust, creating a rhythm that echoes through the room. His eyes are blown wide with lust, lips swollen from kisses shared, and he looks utterly delectable. In that moment, you can’t believe how you ever forgot just how much fun you had with him, or how stunning he was, and how he made you feel like the center of his universe.

What was a mark, anyway?

All you can think of is Jeno—crave him, worship him—as he fucks you into the sheets, your body begging for more. Each roll of his hips sends you spiraling closer to the edge, and you moan his name over and over in a chant of pure ecstasy.

You wrap your fist around his chain, tugging him down over your shoulder until your lips are just inches apart, and you kiss him as you cum. You don’t loosen your grip—you need him to look you in the eyes. You want to see every ounce of him when he fills you with his cum.

His brows furrow, and his mouth hangs open, breath coming in heavy gasps as he continues to pound into you. His eyelids flutter and he moans. “Harder,” he gasps out and you can’t help but clench around him. You tighten your hold on the leash, effectively choking him just as he reaches his peak.

He grunts loudly, head dropping between your shoulder blades as he spills into you. The sensation pushes you over the edge once more, and the two of you ride out your high together, clinging to each other as you breathe heavily. When he finally catches his breath, he spreads your ass cheeks, pulling out slowly, watching as he drips from your messy cunt.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he murmurs to himself.

As he rolls off you, he takes a moment to regain his composure, and when he does, he goes to grab a towel, gently wiping you down. The soft cloth feels soothing against your skin, and then he dresses you in one of his shirts—a perfect fit, soft, and smelling of him. You help him take off his collar, kissing and massaging the skin of his neck.

Once you’re both settled, he pulls you into his chest, wrapping you in warmth. It was cold outside and you wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

You don’t remember dozing off, but the soft sounds of movement in the house awaken you later. the guys must have finally returned. You shake Jeno awake, and he stirs, blinking sleepily as he looks up at you.

“I'm leaving, babe. I had fun,” you say softly, laying a gentle kiss on Jeno's cheek. His eyes are still barely open, and he groans something incoherent that makes you giggle before you slip on your shorts and head out of his room still wearing one of his shirts that hangs loosely around you.

As you step into the living room, you catch sight of Renjun sprawled on the couch, intently watching a show he had been raving about. Jaemin is in the kitchen, visibly busy with something that smells heavenly. You stretch and yawn, drawing their attention.

Renjun glances at you with a playful smirk on his face. “Oh, look who came crawling back,” he jokes, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh hush,” you laugh, picking up a nearby pillow and tossing it at him as you pass.

You walk into the kitchen and greet Jaemin, who glances over his shoulder as you approach. “Hi, baby,” he says sweetly, his tone dripping with mock innocence.

You eyed him suspiciously. Of all the guys, Jaemin is the one you were still learning to read but you knew there was something sinister behind that sweet smile. You knew better than to let your guard down. Beneath his seemingly sweet demeanor, he was likely still mad at you for ignoring him. He was the type to smile and say everything was fine while he was plotting his revenge.

“I didn’t poison it, dummy. Try it,” he insists, smiling as he lets you sample the dish. You hum appreciatively at the taste. “This is so good,” you moan, letting the flavors dance on your palate. Then you shoot him with your best pleading eyes. “Does this mean I’m off the hook?”

His smirk widens, and for just a moment, his mask slips, revealing a glimpse of the mischief underneath. “Not by a long shot. You've gotta get yours,” he threatens, playfully slapping your ass.

You shiver at the promise in his words but can’t help but smile at the teasing. Making your way back to Renjun, you wrap your arms around him in a warm hug.

“I missed you too, Junnie,” you coo, peppering his cheeks with kisses. He chuckles, enjoying the affectionate attention.

“Are you staying for dinner?” he asks.

You pretend to ponder, tapping your chin dramatically, before giving in. “Sure, I’ve been dying to see this show you keep telling me about anyway.” Truthfully, you missed spending time with them, and without an early class the next day, there was no reason not to.

Settling comfortably on the couch, you watch as Jaemin plates your food and Renjun glares when Jaemin casually tells him to fix his own plate. A few moments later, Jeno shuffles out of his room, clearly drawn by the scent of food. He plants a sweet kiss on your forehead before heading into the kitchen to fix a plate. You immerse yourself in Renjun’s show and it isn't until you've finished an entire episode that it hits you suddenly.

“Where’s Haechan?” you ask curiously.

“Probably working late on his project again,” Jaemin replies, shrugging. “His partner got sick last minute.”

“That sucks. I really wanted to see him,” you pout, disappointment washing over you.

“Yeah, he’s gonna be pissed when he finds out he missed you,” Renjun laughs.

After watching another episode and enduring about thirty minutes of Jeno and Renjun arguing over the show's plot twist, you finally decide to call it a night. You had contemplated waiting up for Haechan, but it was getting late and you were growing sleepy.

“Alright, guys, I’m heading out,” you say, waving goodbye. They were in the middle of cleaning up from dinner, chatting amiably amongst themselves before looking up at you.

“Drive safe, and get some sleep,” Jaemin calls out while the others wave goodbye.

As you get into your car and pull out of the parking lot, a familiar car rolls in just as you’re about to drive away. Your heart skips a beat when you lock eyes with Haechan in the driver seat. He’s looking at you in shock, not expecting to see you at the apartment. You looked just as shocked until you burst into laughter at the coincidence.

On the drive home all you can think about is how he is so going to kill you for leaving without saying goodbye. You can already envision the annoyance etched across his features when the others tell him about impromptu the hangout you had without him.

—

Mark was over at your apartment, his smile brighter than ever now that he had finally gotten better. You were glued to his side, huddled under a blanket against the winter night's chill. After making hot cocoa topped with marshmallows, you had settled in for a movie, completely engrossed in the plot.

Suddenly, your phone rang, causing you to jump slightly. Mark chuckled at your startled reaction before turning back to the screen, clearly unfazed. You glanced at the caller ID and noticed Jaemin's name flashing. Hesitating for just a moment, you hit the decline button and set the phone face down on the coffee table. A small pang of guilt washed over you, but you quickly brushed it aside, focusing instead on the warmth radiating from Mark beside you.

You turned back to the movie, snuggling deeper into Mark’s embrace. His warm hand rested high on your thigh, fingers absentmindedly toying with the hem of your shorts. A smile spread across your face, and you felt your heart warm at his touch. Leaning in, you pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder, prompting him to pull away slightly and meet your gaze with a smile. He then laid a gentle kiss on your forehead, trailing soft kisses down to your cheeks before finally capturing your lips in a tender kiss.

“Did you miss me?” he asked, voice teasing.

“Of course! I’m glad you’re feeling better,” you replied, a playful smirk tugging at your lips.

Mark chuckled. “I knew you couldn’t live without me.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing lightly. “Don’t let it get to your head. I was really just trying to keep myself entertained while you were out of commission.”

“Oh, really?” He raised an eyebrow, that teasing tone making your stomach do flips. “So, I’m just your favorite distraction?”

You laughed, leaning back a little. “I don’t know… this movie is pretty good. You’re not exactly doing a great job of distracting me.”

His laughter filled the room as he pulled you in for another kiss, making you forget all about the movie.

Suddenly, there was a rattling noise as your phone vibrated again on the table.

You ignored it as Mark pulled you into his lap, and the kiss began slowly — soft, and sweet. But as hands began to wander and your chests heaved, the kiss grew needier, more desperate. Finally, your phone stopped ringing, and you sighed in relief into his mouth.

The moment of joy was short-lived when your phone vibrated again. You groaned in frustration, and Mark pulled away, looking at you curiously.

“Don’t you want to answer that?”

You already knew who was blowing you up, and the last thing you wanted was to break the moment with a call from Jaemin. You had finally gotten to see Mark after weeks apart, and you would not let anyone come between you.

“I’m good,” you said absentmindedly, leaning in to steal his lips in another kiss.

“Are you sure?” Mark asked, his words muffled against your mouth as you pressed more kisses to his lips.

You huffed in frustration. He clearly wasn't going to drop it until you answered. “Fine.”

You swiped your phone from where it lay on the coffee table and headed into your room, trying to keep your expression neutral.

“What!” you whispered-yelled in irritation when you answered.

“Renjun wanted me to ask when you were coming over for game night.” Haechan’s voice came through in amusement.

“Renjun told you to ask when I was coming over for game night? at 11:30 pm?”

"Yes"

“We haven't had game night in 2 months…” “Which is why I was trying to get that ball rolling again.”

You sign in frustration. “Did Renjun also tell Jaemin to call me or was that you?”

“You probably should have answered that. You know how he gets when you ignore his calls,” he said, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “He hates that.”

You sighed. “Haechan, what do you want?”

“I miss you. I want to know why you’re ignoring me. You stopped by the other day and didn’t even say hello.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not ignoring you, I promise. I was waiting up, but I didn’t know how long you would be,” you replied, your voice softening as you tried to explain. “I have to go though, I’m doing something.”

“Something named Mark? We all saw you with him. You know, that night at the party when you thought no one was looking,” he laughed darkly. “I already don’t like sharing you. You’re my pretty girl, aren’t you?”

The realization hit you hard. Jaemin had seemed off, and now you understood you might be in deeper trouble than you thought.

“Right now, I’m about to be your worst nightmare if you don’t stop blowing me up, and what I did that night is none of your business.”

“You don’t have time for me because you’re with him. I think that is my business,” Haechan pressed.

“I— I don’t have time for this, Haechan! I have to go!” Without waiting for a reply, you hung up, your mind racing. You rubbed a hand down your face, feeling the anxiety clawing at your insides. You were so screwed.

Taking a deep breath, you headed back out to the living room where Mark was waiting.

“Everything good?” he asked, concern lacing his tone.

"Everything is perfect," you insisted, forcing a smile to mask your irritation. You couldn’t let the situation with Haechan ruin this moment. Not now.

Mark studied you for a moment, his brow furrowing ever so slightly as he picked up on the tension in your voice. You could see him searching your face, wanting to know what had just happened during your phone call.

“Are you sure?” he asks gently.

“Let’s just start another movie,” you suggested, getting up to grab the remote.

Mark’s hand found yours when you sat back down, squeezing gently. “Whatever you want, as long as I can hold you.”

—

Ever since that night, you and Haechan had been at odds with each other. If he hadn’t already hated Mark for leaving him with a project to complete alone, he definitely loathed him now for stealing you away.

“Don't let him get to you,” Yuna said, gliding gracefully in circles around you. She had practically dragged you out from under your blankets, ripping you away from the warmth of your heater to join her for some ice skating. Winter was her favorite time of year, but for you? The cold, the snow, and those bleak, gloomy skies felt more like a punishment than the jolliest season of the year.

You struggled to keep your balance on the ice, frowning at her as she effortlessly skated. “He’s being such an asshole right now. Acting like I’m going to just get rid of him or something!”

“Well, are you?” she teased, gliding up to you and grabbing your hands just in time to stop you from completely losing your balance.

There weren't many people at the rink tonight; the already chilly air grew frigid as the sun dipped behind the horizon.

“Of course not! I’m not getting rid of anyone. I just want to spend more time with Mark, that’s all. They’ve had their fun with me, it’s Mark’s turn,” you insisted, your voice wavering slightly as you shifted your weight.

“Our favorite little plaything,” she cooed, scratching under your chin like you were a cat.

“Stop, you’re so annoying!” you laughed, playfully shoving her away. You instantly regretted it as you lost your balance and fell.

Yuna burst into laughter, causing you to glare up at her. “I’m taking a break,” you pouted, waddling off the ice.

“Aw, come on! That was hilarious!” she called out, her voice trailing off in the distance as you moved to the safety of the bench just outside the rink.

You plopped down on the bench and let out a dramatic huff. Lifting your bag onto your lap, you dug through it in search of your phone, hoping that scrolling through some funny videos would lift your spirits. Instead, you found a text message from Haechan waiting for you.

Sunnyboy [8:00pm] miss how you feel pretty girl :(

Haechan had been torturing you for the past week in retaliation for you not making time for him. He had been bombarding you with pictures, showing himself gripping what was hidden beneath his grey sweats, videos of him stroking himself, his tip red and glistening with precum, and the worst of all—voice memos. If there was one thing you adored about Haechan other than what he could do with his mouth, it was his voice. The way he moaned drove you wild, he had a talent for begging so sweetly it made you weak and he knew it. In every voice memo he sounded like a slut and it was pushing all the right buttons. You needed him badly but he had to give you a taste of your own medicine first.

Whenever you tried to confront him, he feigned ignorance, playing coy like he had no idea what you were talking about. Over the phone, he would call just to tempt you, making you listen to him jerk off. His mic would pick up everything, the slick sounds his fingers made as he pumped himself to the sinful moans that he doesn't bother to hold back all before hanging up, leaving you wanting more. But when he was face-to-face with you, he acted like a saint, full of restraint. You had forgotten that while horny Haechan was a menace, brat Haechan was even worse.

He wouldn’t be satisfied until you came crawling to him on your knees, begging for forgiveness, and that was

Never.

Going.

To.

Happen.

You left him on read, knowing he would ignore your reply anyway, and made your way back onto the ice, hoping to escape the thoughts of him.

Later, you walked around town with Yuna, enjoying your little girls' outing. You loved hanging out with your friends, but one-on-one time felt more intimate in a way you cherished. You listened as Yuna shared stories about her winter break and showed you pictures of her dogs back home. She was eager for you to meet Menchi, the dog she had rescued from behind a froyo shop.

“You should have told me you weren’t going home for the holidays. I would have taken you with me!” she pouted. “You know my mom loves you.”

“As do they all,” you shrugged confidently. “Watch out—I might just become your stepmom.”

“Gay,” Yuna shot back, tossing a marshmallow from her cup at you. You had found a cozy late-night café to warm up before heading home.

“I’m an opportunist,” you replied, mixing your drink before taking a sip. You had gotten some wine, and the longer you stayed there, the more you loved the atmosphere. At night, the café transformed into a social club, serving up alcoholic beverages. You needed something to get your blood pumping and you were tired of hot cocoa.

Your phone buzzed beside you, and you sigh as you see Haechan’s name on the screen again. Sunnyboy [10:23] Video attachment

"Who is it?" Yuna asked, sipping her coffee while trying to look at your screen. You quickly locked your phone before she could catch a glimpse. You didn’t need her seeing the outrageous things Haechan sends you.

"It's Haechan; I'm sorry. Give me a moment," you replied, excusing yourself to the bathroom.

Once you were safe behind a stall, you unlocked your phone and navigated back to his messages. The bathroom was empty, but you still turned the volume down, cautious as you played the video. At first, you weren't sure what you were seeing until the camera angle shifted, and you gasped.

You couldn't see much, just a girl with her head in Haechan's lap, her hair obscuring her face and most of her actions. You turn the volume up a little and from the sounds of the video, it became clear what was happening. Haechan's hand rested on the back of her head, pushing it down until she was gagging. He moaned, holding her there until he finally let her come up for air. The video is short and sweet but you're still annoyed by the end of it. You noticed a message you had missed earlier beneath it. Sunnyboy [10:24] I can have fun without you too dont worry ur still my pretty grl

You shouldn’t be upset; you knew he wanted that reaction from you. If you showed your anger, it meant he had won, but damn, were you furious. You locked your phone and stormed out of the bathroom.

"What's wrong?" Yuna asked, concern etched on her face.

"Nothing. What were we talking about again?" you asked, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction. Yuna wanted to pry but saw the look in your eyes and knew now was not the time.

—

One way or another, you were going to show Haechan that you weren't the one to play with. You wouldn't fault him for going around and sleeping with other girls, you couldn’t, considering you were intimate with almost his entire friend group. However, you knew he was doing it to get under your skin, to provoke a reaction from you. And that's what infuriated you the most.

You had reached out to Renjun to see who was home, and he sent a text back letting you know it was just Jaemin and Haechan. You cursed under your breath, disappointed that Renjun wasn't home. He was the most suitable person to help you get under Haechans skin. If not him, then even Jeno would do, but you really wanted to avoid Jaemin. His punishment was not something you were looking forward to, but you steeled yourself, knowing it was a necessary evil in your quest for revenge against Haechan.

You were determined to get revenge, no matter the cost. You would walk through fire to make Haechan pay, and that included facing the punishment Jaemin was going to give you. You could only avoid it for so long. It was time to rip the band-aid off and if you could inflict some well-deserved payback on Haechan in the process, all the better. You [8:57] my prince wru doing today? Nana [9:00] well arent u sweet Im at home why? You [9:01] can i come thru? I miss you Nana [9:15] Oh now you miss me You [9:16] Please jaem im sorry Nana [9:45] You know your in trouble when you get here right?

When you knock on the door, it swings open to reveal Haechan, casually dressed in an oversized white t-shirt and shorts, a devilish smirk plastered across his face. His eyes take in your figure, and it’s clear he thinks he’s already won this round. The cute pink set you wore just for Jaemin catches his attention, and a flicker of desire ignites behind his gaze. You can tell you’ve got him hooked, but you have other plans.

With a determined stride, you walk past Haechan, refusing to give him a glance, fully aware of the heat of his gaze boring into your back. You get a rush of satisfaction the moment you catch a glimpse of his expression shifting from smug confidence to disappointment when he realizes you aren’t there for him. You can’t help but smile to yourself, knowing that Jaemin's punishment is about to be so worth it. Before Haechan can react or try to get his hands on you, you slip into Jaemin’s room, shutting the door firmly behind you before locking it.

Jaemin is already perched on the edge of his bed, waiting for you. His relaxed posture exudes an air of dominance that sends a thrill down your spine. He's got an easy smile on his face that you know not to trust. He sports a fitted black tank top, clinging just right, and loose grey sweats that hang low on his hips as his legs spread wide. The room is dimly lit, the soft glow from a bedside lamp creating an intimate atmosphere.

You give him your sweetest smile, making sure to sway your hips as you close the distance. Standing between his legs, you let your hand come to rest on his jawline, your thumb grazing his cheek as he looks up at you. He’s so pretty—pretty eyes, pretty lips, and pretty lashes that frame his gaze perfectly. Behind that pretty exterior lies something dangerous but alluring.

“I love that color on you, princess. It’s my favorite,” he murmurs, his eyes roving over your figure.

You lean down, capturing his lips in a quick kiss. “Thank you, Jaem. I know” you reply.

Maybe he wasn’t as mad as you thought.

“Did I say you could touch me?” His voice drips sweetly, yet the underlying bite sends a shiver through you.

Or maybe he was

You can feel the weight of your impending punishment closing in on you. Instantly, you pout and drop to your knees, resting your head against one of his thighs as you look up at him, your hand soothing the other.

“Don’t be like that, Jaem. I said I was sorry,” you plead, giving him your most pitiful puppy dog eyes.

His hand comes up, cupping your cheek with surprising tenderness, and you close your eyes, relishing the sweet caress. But suddenly, his grip shifts to the back of your head, yanking your hair until you’re forced to meet his glare.

“I thought I asked you a question,” he states, eyes darkening. “I know you heard me, baby. Did I say you could touch me?”

“No, sir,” you whisper, a shiver of anticipation coursing through you.

“Hands behind your back,” he commands, releasing your hair.

You comply, settling back on your knees, heart racing as you await his next command.

“Don’t give me that look, baby. You know I hate being mean,” he says, standing up from the bed and moving to his closet. When he returns, it’s with a box of toys—the sight makes you clench your thighs involuntarily. “You know I treat you like a princess when you deserve it.”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to ignore you. I was just—”

“Busy with Mark?” He tilts his head in question as he rummages through the box, pulling out a few toys. “I’m not mad. Just tell me one thing, does he fuck you better than I can?”

You swallow hard, biting back a whine. “No, sir,” you finally manage, desperation creeping into your voice.

“Then why does he get your attention while I get ignored?” The question hangs heavy in the air, and you know you have no answer.

“Looks like I just need to remind you who you belong to. Get undressed.”

Once you’re completely bare before him, he nods to the bed, and you get on the mattress, kneeling near the edge, obediently waiting for his instructions.

“Do you trust me, baby?”

“Yes, sir,” you breathe.

“I’ve got a new toy. Can I try it with you?” He pulls out a bar with cuffs on either side and cuffs in the middle, designed to keep your legs open and your hands bound.

“What is that?” you ask, tilting your head in curiosity.

“It’s to keep you open for me,” he explains, voice smooth as silk. “Do you want to try?

Mind racing, you nod eagerly before catching yourself. “Yes, sir,” you correct, using your words. It had been awhile since you had been with Jaemin so you had to remember his rules

“Hands and knees then precious,” he commands.

As you position yourself, a mix of nervousness and excitement bubbles inside you. You had never been bound like this before. You could feel yourself dripping and you had almost forgotten this was all for your punishment. He secures the velcro cuffs around your ankles, and makes you thread your arms underneath your body, binding your wrists to the bar in the center. Face down, ass up, spread wide—completely at his mercy. A breathless gasp escapes you as you realize just how vulnerable you’ve become, the anticipation coursing through your veins like electricity. You can feel butterflies erupting in your stomach.

“Jaemin,” you whine.

"Are you okay, baby?" he asked. His brow furrowed, studying your reaction, waiting for any sign of discomfort.

You whined again, feeling like you were about to implode. "Do something," you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper.

A soft chuckle escaped him, and he playfully slapped your ass before leaving a gentle kiss that made your breath hitch. The spreader bar dug into your skin, forcing your body to arch in a way that’s almost painfully perfect. There was something about the compromising position that left you feeling extra sensitive. You’ve never felt so open, so on display, and it’s making you melt.

He walks over to reach back into his box of toys and pulls out a blindfold. You look up at him, eyes shining in a silent beg that you hope makes him go easier on you but he just kisses your cheek and ties the blind fold, stealing your vision. The darkness is immediate, suffocating, and it only heightens every other sensation.

You let out a soft sigh as his warm hands glided down your back, kneading your ass. You tense up a little, bracing yourself for the sharp sting of a slap that never comes. Instead his hands leave your body completely, leaving you to wonder what he would do next. You were dripping and you wanted to rub your legs together. You needed to find some kind of friction to ease the ache that was building inside you but the spreader bar held you firm and it was killing you.

You heard the door open and close and you groaned in frustration. He was gone for a few moments and you're glad he came back when he did because you were about to start crying and maybe scream for Haechan to come finish you off.

You hear the faint clink of glass against wood, and then his hands are on you again, cold and wet. Ice. He must have taken a sip of water, letting it chill his lips before he pressed them to your skin.

You gasp as his cold kisses trail down your back. His lips are teasing, brushing over every inch of your skin except where you need him most. When his mouth reaches the back of your thighs, you whine, desperate and broken. He’s avoiding you, toying with you, and it’s driving you insane. You hated this, you would rather him spank you until your ass was raw and get it over with but Jaemin was hellbent on making you suffer, making you feel the longing he had to endure.

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs, his voice thick with awe. “Look at that.” His thumb finds your clit, circling it lightly, and you moan, pushing back against him, desperate for more. Anything. But he just chuckles, his hand leaving you again, and you feel the sharp sting of his palm against your ass. He pulls your cheeks apart and a silent “fuck” slips out as he observes you. “I always have so much fun with you, precious,” he says, leaning over you. His body is warm against your back, his hardened length pressing into you as he whispers in your ear. “I want you to myself so bad. I really hate sharing you.” Your breath hitches, and you push back against him, grinding your hips into his. “I’m yours, Nana,” you promise, your voice trembling. He doesn’t stop you, letting you rock against him, begging for relief. But just as you’re about to lose yourself in the friction, he pulls away, leaving you aching and empty. You hear the clink of the glass again, and shiver as you feel him press a cold ice cube against your pussy lips. He holds it in between his lips as it melts and drips down your cunt making you yelp. “Nana, it's cold.”

He slaps the back of your thigh, his mouth too full to speak. The ice eventually melts and you feel his tongue, cold and wet, tracing through your folds, and you whimper. It’s maddening. He’s relentless, licking and teasing, never giving you the pressure you need. You’re drenched, your thighs shaking, and all you can do is take it. You’re his to play with.

You know this isn't even the beginning of what he had in store for you.

“So fucking greedy,” he says, pulling away for just a moment. “That’s why you needed Mark, huh? We weren’t enough for you?”

“It’s not like that,” you choke out, your voice cracking with the tears threatening to spill.

“It’s okay, baby. I like sluts. They always make the prettiest noises when I break them.”

His tongue pushes into you, deep and searching, and you scream, your face buried in the sheets. His hands grip your thighs, holding you against his face, his tongue curling and flicking until you’re seeing stars. He moves to your clit, sucking and teasing, and you’re so close. His fingers dip inside of you and you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes at the pleasure. His fingers thrust and curl up inside of you until your body is tensing up. You’re about to cum but then he pulls away and you sob.

“No! Don’t stop, please!” You hated orgasm denial and of course Jaemin found out about this little weakness of yours somehow.

“That’s too bad,” he says, his voice dripping with amusement. “Been spoiling this pussy too much, now it's become greedy.”

He watches as silent cries and hiccups make your body shake. His hands move gently, rubbing soothing circles against your lower back until your breathing begins to steady, letting you throw your tantrum. You feel him loosen the blindfold, and you blink to bring your vision into focus. Tear-filled eyes meet his gaze, and he leans down to press a tender kiss to your forehead. "How’s my princess doing?" he asks, checking in on you again.

"I'm fine," you sniffle, but your voice falters as you add, "Please make me cum."

He chuckles softly, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Not yet, love," he replies.

You hear the sound of something being pulled from his box, and then you feel it—a vibration against your clit. It’s the rose toy, and the moment he turns it on, you lose all coherence. “F—oh my god!”

He holds it against you, the low setting sending a heady rush of pleasure through your body. You’re close again, your muscles tightening, but he pulls away just as you’re about to tip over the edge. “Be a good girl just a little longer, and you can have me,” he reminds you.

Your mind is swirling, pleasure clouding your thoughts. Your brain was practically mush in your head and when he leans back down to lick up your slickness, you completely lose it. Instantly, your legs quake, heat pooling in your lower belly, and you cry out, hips pushing back against his face for more. You were close again but it’s as if Jaemin has a sixth sense and he pulls away again.

"No, no, no, no, no!" you repeat urgently, your voice rising in frustration, but also laced with desperation

"It's ok, we're almost done," Jaemin's soothing voice tries to calm you down. “Take it one more time for me," he coaxes, "and I'll let you cum."

You’re a mess, tears streaking your face, your body trembling with need. He pulls off his shirt, then his sweats and briefs, and you hear the soft sound of him stroking himself. He groans as he watches you drip onto his sheets. The tip of his cock is angry red, and the way he grips himself tells you he’s close to breaking too.

He presses the tip of his cock against you, letting it slip through your folds before he’s pushing the tip in. Your throat had grown horse from how loud you had been moaning and screaming. Your back arches deeper as he fucks you with just the tip. He picks up the vibrator again, pressing it against your clit, and you’re so close. He bites his bottom lip as he watches the way you squirm. He was driving you insane. His free hand held firm on your hip to keep you still when you tried to press back into him. You were about to cum but he pulls out, switching the vibrator off, and you sob, your legs shaking as another orgasm is ripped away from you.

Jaemin’s hands move swiftly, the velcro cuffs releasing with a soft rip as he unbinds your ankles and wrists. The spreader bar is tossed carelessly to the side, landing somewhere on the bed with a muffled thud. Before you can even process the relief of being freed, his strong hands are flipping you onto your back, and there’s no time to catch your breath before he’s positioning himself between your legs.

“Jaem, wait—it’s too much,” you gasp, your voice breaking as he pushes into you, the stretch almost overwhelming after so much teasing. Your body jolts, every nerve alight with sensitivity, and your nails instinctively rake down his back in a desperate attempt to ground yourself. He hisses, but his pace doesn’t falter, his thrusts deep and relentless.

He doesn’t hear you, only responding with a growl as his hands grip your thighs and shove them up against your chest as he continues to fuck you.

The angle is punishing. Your body arches, every muscle tensing as pleasure builds to a breaking point. You’re so close, teetering on the edge, and then—you’re there. Your body convulses as you cry out, your release soaking his thighs and the sheets beneath you. You’re squirting, the sensation utterly overwhelming, and you hear Jaemin’s voice, rough and guttural, as he watches the mess you’ve made.

“Fuckkk,” he moans, as he gazes down at you. “So fucking good. This pussy is so fucking good.” His words are a low growl, and you can see the way his eyes flutter, his own control slipping as he gets lost in the sight of you.

But he doesn’t stop. His hips snap forward again, driving into you intensely. His hands move to your throat, his fingers wrapping around it in a firm but not crushing grip. You gasp, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your climax, and he leans down, his breath against your ear.

“You gonna answer me when I call you? Gonna text me back?” he demands, his voice low and commanding, his gaze intense as he searches your face for an answer.

“Yes, Nana!” you scream, your voice raw and ragged, your body thrumming with overstimulation. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes again.

“Are you going to make me punish you again?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper now, but it’s no less threatening. His hand tightens slightly around your throat, and you whimper, shaking your head frantically.

“No, Nana.”

“That’s my fucking princess, atta girl.” He says, his lips curling into a wicked grin, his eyes alight with pride. Sweat glistens on his forehead, his hair sticking to his skin, and you’re mesmerized by the way he looks in this moment—utterly wild. Your juices drip down his thighs, and your eyes flicker to the claw marks decorating his biceps, a testament to how badly you’ve wanted him, how much you’ve needed him.

He’s insane, and you love it.

His thrusts grow harder, more erratic, and you can feel him teetering on the edge. His hand leaves your throat, moving to grip your hip as he drives into you one last time. He groans, his body tensing as he spills into you, his release hot and filling. You can feel him pulsing inside you, and it’s enough to send a final, weak shiver of pleasure through your body.

When he pulls out, you collapse back onto the bed, utterly spent. Your muscles ache, your throat is sore, and you’re completely wrecked. Jaemin catches his breath above you, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and you swear it’s like watching a switch flip. The demon that had possessed him—the one that had pushed you to the brink over and over—it’s gone, replaced by the Jaemin you know. His eyes soften, and he brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle now, almost tender.

“Was that too much?”

“Never.”

After cleaning you up, changing the sheets, and tending to your bruises you decide to spend the night. You had no energy to get up and go home, you weren't sure you could even walk to do so. That morning you wake up in Jaemin's arms, snuggled up to his chest with your legs intertwined. You catch a glimpse of his sleeping face and can't help but smile.

You kiss his nose and untangle yourself from the sheets, careful not to disturb him. He's a deep sleeper, and all he does is roll over and go back to sleep. You quietly get out of bed and make your way to the kitchen to get some water.

You pour yourself a cup of water, savoring the silence of the morning. The gentle chirping of birds fills the air as you lean against the counter, relaxing with a content sigh and letting your mind wander to thoughts of nothing.

Your peaceful moment is abruptly interrupted by the sound of a door opening and closing, followed by footsteps approaching. You assume it's Jaemin coming to join you, but you freeze when Haechan rounds the corner.

In that instant, you remember the original reason you had come over—to rile him up. And boy, does he look pissed. He watches you with a fierce glare as you gulp down your cup of water, standing in front of the fridge while he remains across the kitchen, separated from you by the island.

"When you're ready to come home, I'll be right here," Haechan says.

“You're talking about what?" You inquire annoyed.

How our little Princess runs to everyone but me when she's needy." He rebuttals.

"You brought this on yourself," you shoot back. "You decided to send those photos to get a rise out of me, so forgive me if I felt inspired to do the same."

“Jaemin did a number on you, didn't he?" he says, his eyes drifting to your skin, where the bruises from Jaemin are visible.

Your face flushes as you remember the bruises that litter your skin and how loud you were with Jaemin. “Maybe he did. But that’s none of your business, Haechan.”

“Except it is. it's a little hard to ignore when you're parading around with marks from someone else."

"Maybe they could have been from you if you weren't so insufferable," you snap.

"I've wanted it to be me, but you're too busy with your new plaything," Haechan says, his jaw set in irritation.

"I wish you would stop worrying about Mark." You whisper-yell, trying to keep your voice down from waking the whole house. “What's your issue with him anyway?”

"Besides him fucking me over for my last project… let me think. Maybe it's the fact that you're throwing us to the side for him."

You feel a twinge of guilt at his words, but you try to deflect it. "You're ridiculous when you're jealous, you know that right?"

"Says the girl who just screwed my roommate to get back at me," Haechan says, his voice cold. He rounds the corner of the island and closes in on you.

"Only because you never learned how to wait your turn."

"Don't like sharing," Haechan says, his eyes locked on yours.

"Not my problem, maybe one of those girls can keep you company."

He pins you against the counter, his eyes boring down on you. "Stop acting like you don't want me, if you didn't want me, you wouldn't be here right now."

You glare back at him, trying to maintain your cool. "Well, you're in my way," you say, gesturing to your current position pinned against the counter.

"Admit you want me," Haechan challenges. "Then you can go."

You refuse to answer, keeping your mouth shut as he looms over you. You can practically feel his pent-up desire and frustration as he eye-fucks you a breath away.

His hands find their way to your waist, and with a subtle firmness, he pulls you away from the counter, pinning you to the cool surface of the island in the middle of the kitchen. You find yourself face down on the marble as Haechan stands behind you. His hips pressed into your ass as he reached around to the front of your panties. The soft pads of his fingers stroke you through your panties, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Soaked just like I thought,” he murmured, his voice teasing. You bit your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

“Fuck you, Donghyuck,” you spit.

He chuckled, his breath huffing against your neck. “That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to do.” His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your panties, and you clenched your jaw, determined to stay quiet. But your body betrayed you, your legs parting almost instinctively.

“That’s right, princess. Keep that damn mouth closed and let your body talk,” he said. His fingers teased your clit, and you jolted when he pinched it sharply.

“You’re an asshole,” you hissed, glaring at him over your shoulder.

His innocent expression didn’t fool you for a second. “Me? Never.” His fingers dipped deeper, stretching you open, and you couldn’t help but grind against his palm. His other hand slid up your shirt, his rough palm massaging your breast. You could feel his hardness pressing into you, and he rocked his hips forward, the friction maddening.

The sound of a door creaking open down the hall made you freeze. Your heart skipped a beat, your body heating up with embarrassment. It wasn’t like the guys hadn’t seen you in compromising positions before, but this—bent over the kitchen island at nine in the morning, legs spread open—felt different.

Jaemin emerged from the hall and paused in the doorway, his sleepy eyes taking in the scene for a moment before he shrugged. He yawned, reaching into the cupboard for a bowl, completely unfazed. He leaned against the counter opposite you, crunching on his cereal as if this were the most normal thing in the world. Haechan didn’t stop, and didn't even acknowledge Jaemin’s presence. His fingers continued to thrust into you, his pace relentless. He didn’t care about anything other than the way you were clenching down around his fingers as he scissored you open.

Haechan slipped a third finger into you, and your attention snapped back to him. “Focus on me, baby. Why can’t you ever focus on me?” he tutted, his fingers curling inside you. You whined, your body trembling as pleasure coiled tight in your stomach.

Jaemin’s eyes were on you, watching intently as Haechan worked you closer and closer to the edge. The combination of Haechan’s fingers, his palm teasing your breast, and Jaemin’s gaze was overwhelming.

“I’m gonna cum,” you warned, your voice breathy and desperate.

Haechan smirked, his fingers slowing just enough to keep you teetering on the edge. “I don’t think so, princess. You don’t deserve it.”

“Jaemin,” Maybe he’d take pity on you and finish you off if Haechan wouldn’t. You plead and turn your head to look at him.

“Calling for another man when I’m right here? You just don’t learn,” Haechan sneered, his hand leaving your breast to deliver a stinging slap to your thigh.

“Sorry, princess, I can’t save you,” Jaemin said with a teasing smile. He set his bowl in the sink, pausing to press a kiss to your temple before heading back to his room, leaving you at Haechan’s mercy.

Your thighs trembled, your body begging for release. “Please, Haechan. I’m sorry. Please don’t stop.”

You turned your body enough to pull him into a desperate kiss. You missed his lips, the way they felt against yours. It was him—only him—you wanted. He faltered for a moment, his breath stuttering before he regained his composure and pulled away. He had to stand on business.

“Uh-uh, baby. You were bad,” he said, his fingers slowing to an agonizing pace. You squirmed in his grasp, your orgasm slipping further away.

“No, no, please, no!” you begged, rocking against his hand pathetically. But he didn’t relent. His fingers stopped entirely, and he pulled away, leaving you empty and frustrated.

“Better go find Mark to finish you off,” he said with a bite, his tone sharp and cutting. He turned on his heel and left the kitchen, leaving you alone and seething.

You slumped against the island, your body still throbbing with need. That bastard. You wanted to scream, to chase after him and demand he finish what he started. But instead, you stayed put, your mind racing as you tried to figure out your next move.

Now more than ever you wanted to rip his head off.

—

You had been grumpy all week, and your friends were starting to notice.

Sitting around the fire pit, the crackling flames burn hot against the chilly winter night. The air was biting cold, each breath forming a small cloud of mist that vanished into the darkness. Snowflakes continued to fall gently, blanketing everything in a thick layer of white, while your friends settled in around the fire. Absent-mindedly, you burned your marshmallow to a crisp, imagining it was Haechan melting over the flames.

“You guys see that evil look in her eyes?” Jisung asked the group, bundling himself tighter in his parka and scooting a little closer to Yuna for safety.

“And no one believes me when I tell you she’s been signing me up for spam emails!” Yangyang chimed in, his hands tucked deep in his pockets, shaking his head dramatically.

“Because why would she do that?” Yuna defended you, shooting both of them a disapproving look.

You smirked at her loyalty. To be honest, you had signed him up for all those spam emails, but only after he pushed you into a lake two summers ago, right after you’d spent hours on your hair. Your favorite form of revenge came in the shape of minor inconveniences.

“She’s got you all brainwashed. I’m going to expose her. Just you wait!” Yangyang declared under his breath, plotting your demise.

You roasted another marshmallow, this one perfectly toasted, and handed it to Yuna. She smiled and took a bite, closing her eyes in bliss.

A few days had passed since Haechan left you hanging in the kitchen, and your frustration was starting to build up. Mark was suddenly too busy to reply, Renjun was buried under a mountain of books, Jaemin was working overtime, and Jeno… well, Jeno was back at the gym. He had invited you numerous times, but you had been hoping for a different kind of workout.

“There’s nothing wrong, guys. I’m just cold and picturing Chenle as a marshmallow for dragging us out here,” you lied smoothly.

Chenle rolled his eyes dramatically. “It’s called bonding, you ungratefuls. We haven’t had a chance to hang out in forever!”

“Yeah, maybe because it’s been negative two degrees outside,” Mia chimed in.

“I’m having a great time, Lele.” Jisung declared, flashing a warm smile despite the chill.

“Stop flirting,” Yangyang teased as he scooped up a handful of snow and crafted a perfect snowball. He hurled it over the fire pit, and it landed squarely in Jisung’s chest.

Jisung’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “Hey! I thought you were on my side!” he shot back, throwing his own snowball in retaliation.

Laughter filled the air as Jisung and Yangyang dashed through the snow-covered field in the woods behind the campus, their shouts echoing through the trees. A stray snowball from Yangyang hit you in the back of the head, and in an instant, you shot up, declaring war.

You charged at Yangyang, who was doubled over with laughter. The others joined in, hurling snowballs at each other, blissfully caught up in the chaos. You took the opportunity to sneak up on Yangyang, aiming to smother him in the snow when no one was looking.

“I told you she was crazy! Look!” he cried, but no one seemed to pay him any mind as they all ran, slipping and tumbling in the soft snow. The laughter, the playful shouts, and the thrill you got from strangling Yangyang made you forget everything else that had been troubling you. Chenle was right, hanging out with everyone was worth it. By the end of the night, you found yourself laughing easily and feeling relaxed.

—-

Renjun had a secret.

He was at your apartment today, just like he was every Tuesday, surrounded by a mess of textbooks and scattered notes. The coffee table was a chaotic mess of highlighters and crumpled paper, a testament to your hard work during the study session. Soft music played in the background and you hummed along quietly.

His secret?

While his roommates thought you were growing distant, Renjun didn’t feel any distance at all. The truth was, he had been tutoring you for months, regularly texting you and making sure to see you once a week since winter break. So when the guys complained about your lack of attention, he just played along. Unlike them, he wasn’t worried about Mark because he didn’t have to be. Mark wasn’t taking you from him, so he couldn’t care less about the “competition.” They had no idea about the tutoring sessions, and he was perfectly fine keeping it that way. He enjoyed having you all to himself, and he wasn’t about to let anyone ruin that so he kept his mouth shut.

Most of the time, you two really did focus on studying and making progress, but there were occasions when things got heated. By the look in your eyes, Renjun could tell that this would be one of those times.

“Why do you look like you’re about to pounce on me when you still haven’t tackled number 7?” he teased, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. He leaned back against the couch, closing his textbook.

“Because I can’t focus. I’m just… horny,” you groaned, throwing your head back in frustration. “Everyone’s been too busy to hook up, and this 8=D is starting to look way too much like a penis!”

Renjun picked up your paper and glanced at it, snorting with laughter. “Well, you literally just made that up, so let’s start there,” he chuckled, handing it back to you as you sat cross-legged on the carpet, trying to find some semblance of concentration.

“It was on the paper, I swear it was!” you protested, dramatically laying your head against the coffee table hoping the cold wood would cool you down.

“Need me to take care of you?” he asked sweetly.

“No, I can do this. I’m just being pathetic,” you insisted, sitting up straight and attempting to put on your best brave face, but it was getting harder by the second.

“Really? Are you sure? I’ll make it quick,” he replied, a hint of desperation in his eyes. Maybe he needed it just as much as you did.

You looked at him, and your resolve just crumbled. You were starting to feel a bit like a whore, but honestly, it was hard not to be when everyone was so irresistible. Each one of them had their own charm and quirks that you couldn’t help but love. They each drew you in making it impossible for you to replace any of them. You wished they would understand that and stop worrying about Mark.

Renjun was the one who kept the balance among the chaos, never demanding too much but always there when you needed him. That’s what you liked most about him: his easygoing attitude. He could adapt to every situation, cracking jokes at the right moments while always knowing when to be serious. He was sweet but firm, guiding you without pushing. With his playful charm and sass, he kept you on your toes, making every moment fun. Renjun was your anchor, the constant in your life that you could rely on. You could talk to him about anything, and he always knew how to make you feel better. He was your always.

You finally let out a deep sigh, and the tension in your shoulders eased just a little. “Okay, I could use a little help relaxing,” you said as the corners of your mouth twitched into a small smile.

He takes your hand and leads you to the bedroom, making you think he’s going to lay you down on the mattress but he guides you to the connected bathroom instead. He turns on the shower, checking the temperature and making sure it’s warm enough before both of you start to peel away your clothes. Once under the soothing cascade of water, you let out a sigh of relief.

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close for a moment, letting you rest and relax against him. Then, he gently pulls away and kisses you, his lips soft against yours. He presses you against the cold tile of the shower, and you shiver, but the warmth of the water quickly envelops you, warming your skin as the kiss deepens.

“Am I selfish for wanting to keep you all to myself?” he whispers, laying kisses under your ear.

“I wouldn't mind” you whisper back, meeting his gaze before bringing his lips back to you.

The water cascaded down your bodies, pooling at your feet before swirling down the drain. Renjun’s lips trailed along your jawline, his breath warm as the steam rises around you. His thigh pressed firmly between your legs, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you as you instinctively rolled your hips against him. You couldn’t help but moan softly into his mouth.

“God, Renjun,” you gasped, your hands sliding up his slick chest to rest on his shoulders. His skin was so smooth under your fingertips and you dug your nails in lightly as he deepened the kiss. His tongue slid against yours, slow and deliberate, tasting every inch of your mouth as if he wanted to memorize it.

His hands slid down your sides to grip your hips. He lifted you slightly, shifting his thigh higher, and you gasped at the sudden pressure against your core. Your head fell back against the wall, your breaths coming in short, ragged bursts as he nipped at your neck, leaving little marks that made you squirm.

You tilted your hips forward, seeking more friction, more contact, more. Renjun chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin, and he reached down to grip the back of your thigh, lifting it to hook around his waist. The shift in position made you groan, the angle perfect as he pressed himself harder against you.

“Is this what you needed?” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. His free hand moved between you, fingers teasing your clit, and you nodded frantically, unable to form words. All you could feel was him—his touch, his warmth, the way his body fit so perfectly against yours.

Renjun’s fingers dipped lower, brushing against your slick folds, and you whimpered, arching into his touch. “So wet already,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “You really were desperate, weren’t you?”

You didn’t even try to deny it, too far gone to care about anything except the way his fingers circled your clit, sending jolts of pleasure racing through you. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you rocked against his hand, chasing the sensation, and he let out a soft groan, his own need evident in the way his hips pressed insistently against your leg.

“Fuck, Renjun,” you moaned, your voice breaking as his fingers slipped inside you, curling just right to make your vision blur. “Don’t stop… please…” If he stopped you would just die. You couldn’t take any more teasing.

“I won’t,” he promised, his lips capturing yours again in a searing kiss as his fingers worked you expertly, plunging in and out while his thumb rubbed tight, insistent circles against your clit. The combination was overwhelming, and you clung to him, your legs trembling as the tension coiled tighter and tighter inside you.

“Look at me,” he commanded, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes were dark with lust, but there was something softer there too, something tender that made your heart stutter. You obeyed, locking eyes with him as he increased the pace of his fingers, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

“That’s it,” he urged, his voice rough with need. “Come on baby. Cum for me.”

The command broke something inside you, and you came with a cry, your body shuddering in pleasure. Renjun held you through it, his arms strong and steady as you rode out the aftershocks, your breathing ragged and uneven.

When you finally opened your eyes, he was watching you with a smug grin, his hair plastered to his forehead and his lips swollen from kissing. “Feel better now?” he asked, his tone light but his expression still hungry.

“Much,” you admitted, wrapping your arms around his neck. “But we're not done.”

He laughed, a sound that made your heart skip a beat. “Oh, I know.” With that, he turned you around, pressing your front against the tiled wall. Anticipation coursing through you as he stepped closer, his chest flush against your back.

“Ready for another?” he murmured, his hands sliding down your sides to grip your hips. Your breath hitched as he nipped at your shoulder.

“Always,” you breathed, reaching back to thread your fingers through his hair.

He chuckled before kicking your legs open further and guiding himself to your entrance, the tip teasing at your slick folds. “Tell me what you want,” he demanded.

You bit your lip, your whole body quivering with need. “You,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the shower. “Just you.”

“Good girl,” he praised, and then he was pushing into you, filling you completely in one hard stroke. You cried out, the stretch and fullness stealing your breath as he began to move, his pace steady and relentless.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he groaned, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he thrust into you.

“Harder,” you begged, nails digging into the tiles as he obliged, his hips snapping against yours with increasing force. The pleasure built rapidly, coiling tight in your belly, and you knew you wouldn’t last much longer.

“Cum with me,” he growled, his voice strained as he reached around to rub your clit, the added stimulation pushing you over the edge. You shatter, crying out his name as he follows after you, his release spilling deep inside you.

For a moment, you both stayed like that, panting and tangled together, the water washing away the evidence of your passion. Finally, Renjun shifted, pulling you back against his chest as he nuzzled into your neck.

“Let me stay tonight,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleepiness and contentment. “No more studying, no more stress. Just us.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his temple and nodded, holding him tight. “Anything for you, always.”

When you step out he dries you off and helps you slip on a robe and some slippers. He’s got a towel draped around his hips, and another sits on his head as he towel-dries his damp hair. You glance at him, feeling a lazy wave wash over you; the thought of getting dressed seems pointless when you know your hands might wander again throughout the night.

—

Ringing

This mailbox is currently full please try—

Mark’s phone rings and rings, but he doesn’t pick up. After a few moments, you hang up with a frustrated groan. You’ve been trying to reach him all day, and it was unusual for him not to respond at all. You had spoken to him a little over the past week but it was always a quick text here or there. He’s always made time for you, so the silence feels deafening. You try to shrug it off, but something gnaws in the back of your mind.

You make your way to Jisung's door and knock. Chenle answers it, looking like he’s about to head out.

“Where’s Jisung?” you ask.

“In his room, playing video games. What’s up?” Chenle says, adjusting his shades.

“Mark’s acting weird, he hasn’t replied to my messages,” you explain.

“Ha ha! Someone's getting a taste of their own medicine!” Chenle teases, grinning. He and the others know the details of your drama with Mark and the guys, but you still haven't told Jisung everything. You didn't know how to bring up your arrangement with Mark without making it awkward. He knows the two of you talk, but you’ve kept the specifics to yourself.

“Very funny,” you roll your eyes. “Where are you going, anyway?”

“Jisung’s being loud with the game, and I need silence. I’m going to go bother Yangyang and Kun.”

“Just don't go over there stressing Kun. He’s my backup husband and I don't need you raising his blood pressure.”

“Lol whatever,” Chenle laughs, closing the door behind him.

When you enter Jisungs room, you see Jisung seated at his desk, yelling into his mic while playing an online game. Big chunky headphones sit atop his head, and the RGB lights of his keyboard and mouse illuminate his dark room.

You tap his shoulder, causing him to jump and yell into the mic. You hear muffled voices coming from his headset. From Jisung's "Sorry, guys," you can assume his teammates are scolding him for almost bursting their eardrums.

“Hold on, guys, I’ve gotta go AFK real quick,” he says, muting his mic and taking off one headphone.

“You scared me! Did Lele let you in?” he asks, confused.

“Yeah, sorry,” you instantly regret barging in to ask him a dumb question now that you see he’s busy. “I was just wondering if you’ve seen Mark lately? He hasn’t been picking up.” Your cheeks heat up when you realize how needy and stupid you sound. Maybe you can’t fault Haechan for the way he acted because here you are sounding the same way.

“Mark? Yeah, one sec,” he replies, pulling up Discord on his second screen. “Looks like he’s playing League with Haechan. They’ve been grinding for days. I swear, he’s addicted.”

“Mark games?” you ask, surprised. He’d never mentioned it before.

“Yeah, he joined our Discord server like a week ago. Haechan got him hooked on Overwatch and League now.”

Your mouth drops open as everything starts to click into place in your mind. That bastard.

You reach for Jisung's mouse and start scrolling through his chat. Sure enough, there are messages back and forth between Mark, Haechan, Jisung, Jeno, and Jaemin. It makes sense that they’d be gaming together. Before Jisung can stop you, you begin typing in the chat.

thefamousandy [9:33] Haechan you’re dead

—

Lately it's like Mark is never alone, Haechan is always right there with him. It feels like everywhere you turn, there’s Haechan.You spot them on campus, and it’s hard to miss Haechan casually hanging off Mark’s shoulder, that signature cocky smirk plastered on his face as he catches your eye for a split second. If you text Mark to hang out, his response is always “Can’t, out with Haechan already.”

Finally, you’re hanging out alone with Mark at his place, but instead of the quiet, intimate time you were hoping for, you're subjected to a marathon of Mark's League of Legends ramblings. Every sentence starts with the name "Haechan."

Haechan showed me how to…

Me and Haechan played until…

Haechan is really good at…

Haechan

You were starting to feel like you're stuck in some kind of bizarre, Haechan-centric vortex. You think you might just kill Haechan.

Mark mentions the others, too, but it's like they're mere background noise. All you can hear is Haechan's name echoing in your mind.

"…and then Haechan told me about this one champion, Ezreal, and how you can use his Mystic Shot to last-hit minions from a safe distance. I'm glad Jisung introduced us I’ve been wanting to get into league for forever” he says and you zone back in

"Wait, wait, Jisung introduced you to Haechan?" you ask.

“Yeah, he said they needed another person on their team,” Mark replies.

Right after Haechan, you think you might just kill Jisung too.

“You really like this game, huh? I want to see if you’re any good,” you tease, already cooking up a plan in your head to shut him up.

Mark blushes a little. “Nah, I’m not that good, really. Haechan carries the team.”

You feel a twitch in your jaw at the sound of that name.

“Well, I want to watch you play. it sounds fun! Maybe I can get good and join too,” you say, determined to keep him focused on you.

Mark beams at you, and you trail behind him to his room as he powers up his computer. Without hesitation, you settle into his lap, and he reaches around you to log in. You can’t help but think he looks adorable in his little gamer headphones.

As he dives into the game, he starts explaining the mechanics and the characters but it all sounds like blah blah blah proper name place name backstory stuff. Your eyes drift away from the screen and back to Mark's face, where you get lost in the sparkle in his eyes.

“Are you even listening?” Mark chuckles, his smile widening as he glances at you. You realize you’ve been staring at him for the past three minutes.

“Sorry, it’s just… you’re such a nerd, and it’s kinda hot,” you admit.

His cheeks flush a bright red, and he shakes his head, turning back to the screen to hide his embarrassment. You can’t help but smile as you watch him grow shy under your gaze. He playfully scolds you, “Pay attention!”

A notification pops up on his screen. thyluvhae is online.

You watch as Mark types out a response to Haechan’s request to play Overwatch. “Wanna watch me play a quick match?” he asks.

“Of course!” you smile.

Mark turns on his mic and greets the guys, while you settle back into his lap, content to watch for a little while. He finishes a round, glancing over to check if it’s okay to boot up another.

About halfway through his second round, you shift in his lap and push yourself off, kneeling between his legs. Mark’s eyes flicked down to you, wide with surprise, but before he could say anything, someone on his team started shouting instructions, pulling his attention back to the game.

His hands stayed glued to the mouse and keyboard, but you could see the tension in his body as you began to glide your hands up and down his thighs. Your touch was light, almost teasing, but it was enough to make his breath hitch. He stuttered a little on his sentences when he responded to something that was said, his voice trembling slightly.

You decided to escalate, pulling him from his sweats. His sharp intake of breath was barely audible, but you heard it. He covered it with a cough, his cheeks flushing as he tried to maintain his composure. You spit on his tip, the wetness glistening in the dim light, and began to stroke him with slow, deliberate movements. You take him into your mouth and swirl your tongue deviously around his tip before you trail teasing kisses down the side of his cock,

Mark’s hand shot up to mute his mic, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He looked torn between wanting to tangle his hands in your hair and needing to keep playing the game. The team was too close to victory, and they had been trying all day to secure a win. His moans were quiet and breathy, still afraid someone might hear him.

You paused for a moment, looking up at him deviously. “Let me hear you, baby. Don’t be shy,” you whispered. With that you took him back into your mouth and down your throat.

Mark’s moans picked up in volume, his legs spreading wider as he tried to keep himself from thrusting into your mouth. The sound of his keyboard clacking and his mouse clicking filled the room, but you could tell he was struggling to focus. It wasn’t long before his fingers suddenly stopped moving, and he froze. A long, shaky inhale escaped his lips, and his hips twitched upward involuntarily.

You knew you were doing a good job when he let out a low groan, and his fingers flexed on the keyboard. He jolted as someone on his team snapped him out of his trance, bringing him back to the game. Quickly, he unmuted himself. “I’m here, I’m here. I—my eyes are just tired. I’m sorry,” he lied, his voice strained as he tried to cover up his gasps.

You continued to stroke what you couldn’t fit in your mouth, and Mark leaned forward, his face contorted in a mix of pleasure and agony. “Fuck,” he groaned into the mic, his voice trembling. “F-fuck, I almost died,” he said quickly, trying to cover up his moans.

The match dragged on, and you could feel Mark’s frustration building. His body taut with tension as you continued to work him. Finally, the match ended, and Mark let out a sigh of relief. He leaned back in his chair, his chest rising and falling as he watched you.

Without a word, he reached down and gathered your hair into a ponytail, using it as a makeshift handle to control you. “That’s right, open that throat up,” he whispered, his voice rough with need. He pushed your head down, forcing you to take him into the back of your throat. The sensation was overwhelming, and you could feel him throbbing against your tongue.

Mark’s head leaned back against the headrest of his gaming chair, a deep, guttural moan escaping his lips. He held you there for a moment, savoring the feeling before pulling you off of him. He shivers with a groan. “Just like that.”

You stare up at him with doe eyes as your lips shine with a mixture of his precum and your saliva. You pump him faster wanting nothing more than to have him paint your face.

Mark bites his lip before pushing you back down on him. You bob your head up and down sloppily just like he liked it until he was releasing down your throat. “Shit,” he groaned, his voice trembling as he moaned your name. You pull away continuing to pump him and the last of his release lands on your face.

He released your hair, and you pulled away, making a show of licking your lips and swallowing. Mark’s eyes were dark with desire, and he reached down to pull you into a kiss. You moaned at the prospect of him tasting himself on your lips, but before the kiss could deepen, he turned off the game and powered down his computer. With a swift motion, he picked you up and threw you into his sheets, his body covering yours, prepared to return the favor.

When you get home, you decide to FaceTime Jisung. He picks up and props his phone up, grabbing a bowl of food. Dressed comfortably in a hoodie with the hood pulled over his head, he sits at his desk and slurps his dinner.

“What’s up?” he mumbles around a mouthful.

“You were the one who introduced Mark to Haechan!?” you exclaim.

“Yeah, he asked me to! We needed another teammate, so I told them about Mark. How was I supposed to know you were… together?”

“Together? Together in what way?” You roll over onto your stomach in bed, your expression turning serious. Did he mean together together or together together.

“He forgot to mute his mic, and I heard a little too much,” Jisung admits, his face turning red as he looks away from the camera.

You cringe at the thought of what Jisung could have heard. “Are you mad?” you ask, genuinely concerned, your voice softening as you try to gauge his reaction.

“Ew, no! You’re like my sister,” he replies, dismissively.

"I meant about me fucking your cousin, asshat. I said mad, not jealous, genius," you retorted, raising an eyebrow at the screen.

“Why would I be?” he says, taking another bite of his food.

“I don’t know, some people have those boundaries about their family. I just wanted to make sure I didn’t cross any lines,” you explain.

“It’s a little weird, yeah, but that’s probably because I had to listen to him moan in my ear,” Jisung says, shivering slightly at the memory.

“Sorry!” you reply, trying to stifle a laugh. If Jisung had heard that meant Haechan probably had too and you were a little happy to exact a little revenge on him even if you couldn’t see his reaction.

—

As you walk into Mark's house, you're greeted by the sight of Haechan already lounging on the couch, looking like he's made himself right at home. Your face falls, and you shoot Mark a disgruntled glare.

"Seriously?!" you whisper-yell, trying to keep your voice down.

Mark looks apologetic, whispering back, "I'm sorry! He just showed up. I didn't want to be rude."

Haechan, sensing the tension, looks up from his phone with a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Hey there! Ready for some fun?"

You force a smile, trying to play it cool, and sit down next to him on the couch. "Can't wait."

Haechan leans back, still grinning, clearly enjoying the fact that he's inserted himself into your plans.

Mark tries to diffuse the situation, saying, "Yeah, we were just about to load up some Mario Kart, actually." He starts rummaging for extra controllers near the TV and turns it on.

“I'm down” You say. It did sound fun but you weren't over here for Mario you were here for Mark and you were trying to play with his other joystick. Mark plops down on the other side of Haechan and passes over the remotes. As the game starts, you quickly take the lead, using your knowledge of the shortcuts and boosts to secure first place. Mark is second, and Haechan is fourth.

As you speed ahead, Haechan tries to take you down with a banana peel, but you dodge it effortlessly. "Too slow," you tease.

The race is heating up, and the three of you are getting increasingly competitive. Mark’s laughter drowns out the sound of the game, and for a moment, you almost forget about Haechan's ever-looming presence. But as the race comes down to the wire, Haechan and Mark make a alliance against you.

“Just let her have it, Mark. I’ll take care of her next round!” Haechan goads.

“Hey! No teaming up!” you yell, half-amused.

Mark just shrugs, a grin plastered to his face as you get blasted with a blue shell that causes you to cross the finish line in second, Haechan gleefully taking first place.

“Cheater” you mumble under your breath.

As the night winds down, Mark puts on a movie and you go grab some blankets while Haechan makes popcorn.

“Wanna share a blanket” You say, trying to snuggle up close to Mark on the couch.

But before Mark can respond, Haechan is back with popcorn and plops down right between you again, acting like a natural cockblock. “Share some with me too.” He hands off the bowl to Mark and throws the cover over all three of you

For whatever reason, Haechan picked a three-hour-long movie, and you're bored out of your mind. You grab your phone and excuse yourself to the bathroom.

You [9:45] Come get your roommate hes being a nuisance

You text out an sos to Renjun.

RJ [10:20] Lol which one

You [10:21] The annoying one

RJ [10:23] Jaemin?

You [10:23] annoyingerrrrr

RJ [10:24] Haechan lmaooo What did he do

You [10:25] Cockblockingggggg hes everywhere he wont leave me alone

RJ [10:28] Just fuck him already

Before you can even think of a reply, the bathroom door creaks open, and you jump in surprise. Haechan pokes his head in.

"What the…?" you whisper-yell, trying to keep your voice down. “What are you doing?”

Haechan shuts the door behind him and locks it, a sly grin spreading across his face. "You were taking too long to come back," he whispers.

"What about Mark?" you ask, trying to keep your cool.

“He fell asleep.”

You can't help but raise an eyebrow. "So?"

Haechan chuckles and takes a step closer, his face inches from yours. "So I'm bored and I knew you'd be in here, trying to escape."

You poke a finger into his chest, trying to assert your dominance. "You know what you're doing," you hissed.

Haechan's smirk only grows wider. "Oh? And what's that, princess?"

"You’re cockblocking. Stop getting in my way."

“Or what?” he teases.

Anger boils up in your chest, and you grab Haechan by the front of his shirt, yanking him closer until you're face-to-face, your grip unrelenting. The harsh words you intended to unleash fade away, caught in your throat. Instead, you slam your lips against his, biting down hard on his bottom lip. Haechan hisses in pain, but rather than pulling away, he leans into the kiss. He's been wanting this for too long, and now that it's finally happening, he's not about to let go.

He tries to push you up against the bathroom counter but with a swift move, you flip your positions around, pinning Haechan up against the counter instead.

Your eyes blaze with fury as you pull away from the kiss. "You think you're clever, stealing Mark away from me like that?" you hiss.

"Someones jealous," he says. His lip is slightly bleeding from the harsh bite, but he's not bothered, instead, he licks at it cockily.

Your anger only grows, and you reach forward, hands tangling in the back of his head, tugging hard enough to make Haechan whine. "You want me?" you say, your breath hot against his lips, your knee pressing up between his legs, making him shudder.

You've taken a few pages from Jaemin's playbook, it seems, learning how to put someone in their place, how to make them feel submission and powerlessness. And from the look on Haechan's face, it's working. He doesn't look so cocky anymore, instead, he looks…vulnerable. Helpless.

Haechan's head nods as best as he can in your grip, the defiance in his earlier demeanor fading.

"When have you ever been afraid to run that mouth?" you say. “Speak up.”

The way he’s pressed up against your knee, you can see a change in his gaze. He’s Hard against your thigh and his body is pressed impossibly close to yours, like you were his only lifeline.

"I want you. I need you so bad," he admits, his voice small.

You can't help but pat his cheek, a smirk forming on your lips. "Good boy."

He whines, reaching out to pull you close, eager to reconnect your lips, but you simply pull away entirely, enjoying the way he falls, eyes swirling with confusion and longing.

"You didn't think it was going to be that easy, did you? Hands behind your back," you instruct. "You have to earn it if you want to touch me."

He complies without hesitation, his eyes innocent and docile, and something wicked stirs within you; you want to ruin him, to break him. You think you will.

Pressing yourself back against him, you slot your leg between his thighs again, "Go ahead, grind against me. Show me how pathetic you are, and maybe I’ll take pity on you."

“Please,” he breathes out, fingers gripping tightly against the cool marble counter of Mark's bathroom. "I’m sorry, I’ll be good."

“Don't make me tell you again.”

Haechan swallows hard, his breath hitching at your authority. You can see the conflict in his eyes—part of him wants to push back and be a brat, but the other part, the one craving you, is ready to surrender completely.

Haechan whines softly as he grinds against your thigh, his gaze locked onto yours. Your fingers grip the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss. He groans into your mouth, frustration evident as he aches to reach out and grab you, to pull you closer, but he holds himself back, wanting to please you, to be good for you.

As your hands sneak under his shirt, you feel the warmth of his skin. You rake your nails down his stomach, teasingly, before pinching his nipples. The sound that escapes him is a soft moan, and you swallow his noises pressing your lips together until they are sure to bruise.

Your hands continue their exploration, sliding down to the waistband of his sweats. You tug at the fabric, freeing him from its confines, your grip finding the base of him. You hold him firmly, feeling the way he twitches under your touch, and you look at him with a smile.

“Spit on it,” you instruct him sweetly.

Haechan gazes at you with a hazy expression and rosy cheeks as he collects his saliva in his mouth. The spit drips down onto the head of his cock, and he sighs at the way it trickles down. His breath hitches as you tighten your grip just slightly.

“You listen so well, why can't you be like this all the time?” you say in a whisper.

You stroke him slowly, ensuring to twist your wrist around the head as you move up. Your movements are deliberate, slow, and drawn out to drive him crazy.

His hips buck up into your grasp.. You make a ring around the head of his cock with your fist and watch as he fucks into it. His breath is choppy, and his noises are high-pitched as he throws his head back.

“You make me feel so fucking good, I can't take this,” he cries. “I need you.”

“Shut up before you wake up Mark,” you say cruelly. Your hand stops at the base of his cock and squeezes punishingly causing him to curse and shudder.

Your hand starts moving again, and you attach your lips to his neck, sucking a pretty bruise into the skin there. You nip at the skin meanly before pulling away. You release him and the noise he makes is devastating. You laugh in his face and mock him.

“Grip it, you think I'm going to do all the work for you?”

Both hands lift off the counter, but you stop him. “Keep one hand on the counter and don't move it.”

He follows your instructions, gripping himself firmly. He doesn't move, just looks at you waiting for your next command.

“Look at you catching on fast,” you commend him. “Show me how you like it.”

A broken whine leaves his lips as he starts fisting his cock in front of you. His cheeks are red, and he's clearly embarrassed, but he doesn't stop.

His pace is fast and rough, and he bites his lip to silence his moans. “Slow down,” you instruct.

He shakes his head stubbornly. “Can’t, so close.” He says, words coming out broken.

“You want to finish like that? Be my guest, but you’re not fucking me.”

He whines, but finally stops, his chest heaving as he fights back his orgasm.

“You’re hard headed, so don’t think you’ll be rewarded.” You lean over the counter, pulling your bottoms down but leaving your underwear on. “Fuck my thighs, that's all you get.”

Haechan is behind you in seconds, pushing into the tight space between your thighs. He leans over you, his hips slapping noisily against your ass as he chases his high. His fingers dip into your underwear, playing with your slickness before plunging deep inside you. His fingers match the rhythm of his thrusts, and he imagines it’s his cock filling you.

“Wanna fuck this pussy so bad. You’re so fucking selfish.” He moans in your ear, slowly transforming back into the brat you know and love.

“You’re always doing me dirty, but I still worship this pussy.” His free hand grips your hip, his fingernails biting into your skin. “I’d fill you up, stretch you out like you need, but you won’t let me.”

You moan at his words, grinding back against him as his fingers plunge deeper. “I should fucking break you. I’m too nice to you.”

You’re not sure when the tables turned, but you’re soaking his fingers. He curls his digits deep inside you, and suddenly you’re cumming. He pulls his fingers out and slides your panties to the side, lining up at your entrance. He splits you open and moans at how wet you feel. Wet squelching fills the bathroom as he begins to fuck you. You want to protest but he feels so good you can’t. You hadn’t felt him in so long you would be insane to stop him now.

He had needed this for so long but he's frustrated beyond belief because he's already so close. This was not how he’d envisioned having you after so long. But it was alright, there would always be a next time, and next time, you would be his good girl.

He grips your hair roughly pulling you back to meet his lips and after a few more deep thrusts he's cumming inside you, groaning in frustration. He pulls out, and your panties slip back into place, trapping his cum inside of you. You both clean up and fix your appearances. Honestly, you had forgotten whose house you were at, and you cringe at the thought of how loud you must have been.

You both try to make your way back to the living room as inconspicuous as possible. When you enter the room, Mark is sprawled out on the couch, deep in sleep. You sigh in relief; he’s always been a heavy sleeper, and you thank the lord for that.

“Wanna go fuck on his bed?” Haechan jokes.

You punch him in the shoulder. “Shut up”

—

Jeno had finally convinced you to come with him to the gym. The cold air nipped at your skin as you approached the entrance, and it was late, making you question how he managed to get you here. Maybe it was the fact that you had been missing him more than you cared to admit.

“One more rep, you got this!” he motivates from behind you, his chest pressed warmly against your back, closer than what was probably necessary. The 10-pound dumbbells in your hands were starting to feel like they weighed a ton, and you could feel the burn in your muscles as you struggled through the sets of butterflies. “Come on, don’t stop. Almost there!”

His hands ghost beneath your arms, providing just the right amount of support to help you finish your last rep. You exhale a heavy sigh when you’re finally done, sweat slick against your forehead and trickling down the sides of your face.

“Good girl,” he coos, a playful glint in his eye as he hands you your water bottle.

“I’m never coming back here,” you declare, plopping down on a nearby bench, your legs feeling like jelly. The gym had already long closed for the night, leaving the two of you alone. Jeno had started working part-time at the gym and had gained free access to the equipment during off hours. You spent the first hour there helping him tidy up, wiping down machines and stacking weights, before he finally dragged you onto the floor for a workout. Once he noticed how bad your form was, he stepped right in, transforming into your personal trainer.

“Don’t be like that, it’s not so bad! Besides, who else is going to keep me company?” he pouts cutely.

“I don’t know… how about you bring the other musclehead?” you say.

“It’s easier to work out when I’m looking at something pretty,” he replies.

“Since when isn’t Jaemin pretty?” you challenge, raising an eyebrow.

“You know what I mean,” he counters, sitting down beside you on the bench. You can’t help but notice the way his broad shoulders fill out his tank top. He hands you his sports water bottle, and you shoot a mouthful of water down your throat.

“Have you had enough fun torturing me yet? Can we leave now?” You yawn, stretching your arms above your head and feeling the pleasant release in your muscles.

He takes the water bottle back and drinks from it before he stands to find his bag. “Yeah, want to shower first?”

You try to follow him into the men’s locker room but he stops you abruptly, a serious look crossing his face. You quirk an eyebrow, and he gives you a stern look in return. “Cameras, dummy,” he reminds you, then dramatically gestures toward the women’s bathroom, his playful tone returning. With a chuckle, you head in the opposite direction, hoping anyone monitoring the footage later would see you as merely lost.

After you freshen up, you meet him in the office, where he’s already sitting at his desk. “I just need to finish up a few more things, and then we can go,” he says.

You take a seat on the edge of the desk, watching him as he focuses intently on the screen. He logs something on the computer, brows furrowed as he concentrates on the screen in front of him. He looks so good, especially with his hair still slightly damp from the shower, beads of water clinging to the ends.

Reaching over, you grab the towel draped around his neck and gently use it to dry his hair a little further. When you pull away, he instinctively reaches out without looking and kisses the back of your hand in thanks, his lips brushing against your skin softly. The warmth of his gesture sends a flutter through you.

You need him bad.

Your eyes dart around the room, scanning every high corner and every hidden nook, but you don’t see anything out of the ordinary. “Hey, Jen, are there any cameras in here?” you ask.

“No,” he responds absentmindedly, his eyes glued to the computer screen, focused on the task at hand.

“Can I sit in your lap?”

“Anything you want, sweet girl, just shut the door,” he replies. You shut the office door, the soft click of the latch resonating in the otherwise quiet space, effectively sealing the two of you inside.

Jeno scoots back in his chair, giving you ample room to settle down on his lap. You straddle his waist, positioning yourself so that you’re facing him. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you can feel the warmth of his body radiating against yours as he resumes his work.

After a few moments, he hits the last key of the keyboard with a sound of finality, and then the soft whirring of the computer comes to a stop as he shuts it down. You pull back slightly to look at him

“I’m done, baby. You ready?” he asks

You shake your head no, your eyes glazing over and you lean in, closing the space between you, and press your lips against his in a kiss.

For a moment, he doesn’t move, caught off guard by the sudden shift. But then his body responds instinctively; his hands slide up your thighs to grip your waist, pulling you closer against him. The kiss deepens as all the air in the room seems to disappear, his tongue brushing against yours in a slow waltz.

You break away from the kiss just enough to whisper, “There’s one more workout I want to try before we leave.”

Jeno snorts a laugh, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Corny,” he teases.

You give his shoulder a playful slap, pouting slightly. “Stop! I’m trying to be sexy!”

He just shakes his head at you in amusement before bringing your lips back together.He shifts in the chair, his hands guiding you to adjust your position. You can feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of your gym clothes, his body pressed against yours, hard and throbbing.

His hands slide down to your hips, gripping firmly as he lifts you slightly, guiding you to grind against him. The friction is everything, sending a jolt of pleasure through you that makes you gasp into his mouth. He chuckles, the sound vibrates against your lips. “You like that?”

You nod, unable to form words as his hands move to the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head in one swift motion. His eyes rake over your body, and you feel a flush of heat as his gaze lingers on the swell of your breasts, the curve of your waist. “so fucking beautiful,” he says, his voice thick with desire.

Your hands fumble with the tie of his sweats, eager to feel him. He helps you, shoving his bottoms down just enough to free himself, and you can’t help but let out a small moan at the sight of him.

You shift back slightly, lining yourself up with him, and then you’re sinking down, taking him inch by inch until he’s fully seated inside you. The sensation is overwhelming, it's a fullness that makes your head spin. You let out a shaky breath and your hands grip his shoulders for support as you adjust to the feeling.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” Jeno groans, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he helps you move. You start slow, rocking against him, testing the rhythm, but it’s not enough. You need more.

You lift yourself up slightly before sinking back down, harder this time, and the moan that escapes Jeno’s lips is enough to spur you on. You set a steady pace, riding him with a growing urgency. He matches your fire as his hips snap up to meet you halfway. His hands roam over your body,the pads of his fingers touching and teasing to drive you wild.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he murmurs in praise. “Just like that.”

His words fuel you, and you move faster, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. His hands grip your hips, guiding you, helping you find the perfect angle. Every thrust sends a wave of pleasure crashing through you, building and building until you’re teetering on the edge.

“Jeno,” you whimper, your voice breaking as you cling to him. “I’m so close.”

He tightens his grip on your hips, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate. “Come for me sweetie, ” he growls, his voice rough with need. “Let me feel you.”

His words push you over the edge, and you shatter, your body convulsing around him as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. He follows you with a low groan, his hips jerking up as he spills himself inside you, his grip on you tightening as he rides out his own climax.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is your ragged breathing, the two of you clinging to each other as you come down from the high. Jeno’s hands move up your back, pulling you close, and you rest your forehead against his, your breaths mingling.

“I’m ready now,” you say with a breathy laugh.

As you drive back, Jeno’s hands are interlocked with yours, his thumb stroking the back of your palm lovingly. His eyes are focused on the road ahead, a soft smile on his lips as he hums along to the melody playing on the radio.

In moments like this, you feel a flicker of guilt. He’s so loving, so affectionate, and you absolutely cherish it, but a nagging thought lingers in the back of your mind. You know he likes you, and your heart aches every time you consider it because you’re not sure you’re ready for a relationship. The last thing you want to do is break his heart.

You can’t keep putting it off forever.

“Jeno, can I ask you a question?” you say.

He hums in response, granting you permission to go on, his attention still largely on the road.

“How do you feel about me?” you ask shakily.

A look of surprise crosses his face, and he stutters for a moment, clearly searching for the right words. Taking a deep breath, he finally says, “Honestly, at first, I had a crush on you. I kind of still do, but I know casual is your thing, and I don’t want to ruin what we have now,” he confesses.

“Jeno, I don’t want to hurt you, ever. If you want, we can stop. I don’t want to keep trampling on your heart like this.” You knew friends with benefits could become a dangerous game once feelings got involved. You wish you could return his feelings fully, envisioning a future together, but the timing isn’t right for you.

Jeno shakes his head, a reassuring smile on his face as he squeezes your hand tighter. “No, really, it’s not like that. It’s not some undying love, and I’m not heartbroken that you don’t feel the same way. I’m a grown-up, I can handle it,” he laughs lightly, dispelling some of the heaviness in the air.

You sigh a little in relief and you can see in his eyes that he means it. You could kind of feel the shift as well. Before he was more like a love sick puppy but now he's more….content? Mature? It feels like you’re connecting on a different level, almost like best friends, similar to how you feel with Renjun.

Your heart blooms at the thought. Maybe when you’re ready, Jeno will be the first place you look.

—

Sunnyboy [9:00] jun forgot to pay for the wifi can i come over and use yours? library closed and have a paper due at 12

You read the message, a small smirk playing on your lips as you consider the true intention behind it. Honestly, it’s hard not to imagine he’s just making up an excuse to end up at your place, but you can’t deny how much you enjoy his company. When he arrives, though, it becomes clear he wasn’t lying.

Haechan sits on your couch, furiously typing away at his laptop, his face stone serious as he races against the clock. Classic him—procrastinating until the last possible minute to whip up something to submit for an assignment he had weeks to complete.

You quietly make him some tea, settling down by the window with a book you had been eagerly waiting to dive into. The storm outside intensifies, rain pounding against the glass, setting the perfect atmosphere for a cozy read while Haechan works alongside you. After about an hour of reading the thunder was becoming too distracting, striking down hard and scaring you away from the window and onto the couch next to haechan.

“Scaredy cat,” Haechan teases without taking his eyes off the screen.

You roll your eyes playfully, closing your book and propping your head on his shoulder, stealing a moment to watch him focus. It’s five minutes to twelve, and he’s typing furiously, powering through the conclusion. Just as he finishes and hits the submit button, the storm roars louder, and suddenly the power cuts out, plunging the room into darkness.

“Shit!… YES!” he cries in triumph as he realizes the submission page went through just in time.

You laugh beside him. “Your luck scares me sometimes.”

He turns to you, a triumphant grin lighting up his face, and he leans over to kiss you in celebration. “Thank you so much. you’re a lifesaver,” he says.

“Anytime.”

Finally catching sight of the storm outside, his eyebrows shoot up. “Damn, when did it get that bad? I don’t think I can drive in that,” he worries.

“Did you think I was going to make you? You’re staying over.”

He wiggles his eyebrows at you. “Me and you all alone in the dark? Does that mean I finally got you all to myself?”

With a teasing smile, you stand up from the couch and make your way to the bedroom. “How will we possibly pass the time?” you ask, throwing a glance over your shoulder.

He closes his laptop, the hunger in his eyes unmistakable as he follows. “I have a couple ideas.”

Once you cross the threshold of your bedroom door you turn to face him, a playful grin dancing on your lips. With deliberate slowness, you begin to strip, giving him a show as you remove each piece of clothing, throwing them at him tauntingly.

“I’m sorry for making you wait so long,” you tease as you toss your shirt in his direction and he catches it before it can land on his head. His eyes roam up and down your body hungrily, and you could sense the dominant headspace he was slipping into. You realize it wouldn’t be like last time, you wouldn’t be in control.

“You will be,” he states firmly, gripping the fabric of his shirt and pulling it above his head as he strides towards you.

"I'm so scared," you taunt, letting out a soft, mocking laugh as you saunter backward towards the bed, your hips swaying with every step. You watch as his jaw tightens, his eyes darkening with a hunger that sends a thrill of anticipation through you.

“You’re really asking for it tonight, aren’t you?” He says finally standing in front of you.

You smirk, as your knees hit the edge of the bed. “Maybe I am. What are you gonna do about it?”

“Let’s see if you can keep that attitude.” In an instant he's pushing you down and climbing on top of you. His lips crash against yours and his tongue seeks entrance eagerly. You moan into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. But he swiftly grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand while the other trails down your body, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

He spreads your legs open roughly, forcing his way between them and grinding his hips down sharply against you.

“Feel me, baby? That’s what you do to me,” he moans against your skin.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Please, I need you.”

“Begging already?” he teases, his fingers slipping between your bodies and dipping inside you. “I haven’t even started yet.”

He collects your juices on his fingers before he pulls them out, savoring the taste of you on his tongue when he licks them clean. “Sweet.” He groans before connecting your lips again. You chase the taste, but he pulls back, sitting up to strip off the rest of his clothes. Breathless, you watch as he reveals himself, his hard cock standing at attention.

He slips off the bed, positioning you how he wants. You find yourself lying on your back with your head hanging off the edge of the mattress.

“Tap if you need air,” is the only warning you get before he slips his cock past your lips.

One hand grips the back of your neck while the other trails down your body, teasing your nipples before he’s leaning down to kiss your navel.

You relax your throat, taking him deeper with every thrust. There’s little for you to do other than lay there and be his toy. His movements are gentle at first, but then he picks up the pace, thrusting harder as he watches the way he bulges in your throat.

Suddenly, he spreads your legs wide and delivers a stinging slap to your cunt, making you jump. He circles your clit expertly before opening you up again with his fingers. You moan around his cock, and he shivers at the vibrations the sound makes.

His pace quickens, thrusts becoming more forceful as he fucks your mouth. You choke, and he moans, pushing himself down your throat and holding himself there despite your struggles for breath. You hold on until tears prick your eyes and he finally pulls back to allow you to gasp for air.

“So good,” he whispers as you catch your breath, focusing now on fucking you with his fingers.

You clench around his fingers and he pulls out delivering a wet slap to the inside of your thigh. “Not yet”

Using the juices that coat his fingers, he strokes his cock, covering himself in you before he thrusts back down your throat. The wet, gargled sounds echo in the room, and his balls slap against your forehead as he pushes into your mouth.

With a light grip around your throat, he wanted to feel the way he moved inside of you, his thrusts quickening. You can sense he’s close, but after a few long, slow strokes, he pulls out, not wanting to finish yet. He helps you sit up, and you know your throat will be sore tomorrow.

You crawl further up the bed and get on your hands and knees, but as he joins you, he delivers a slap to your ass, shaking his head. “No, I want to see you. Turn over.”

You follow his command, spreading your legs wide for him, a desperate need coursing through you.

He lines himself up at your entrance, teasingly gliding his tip through your folds. “Tell me you want me,” he says, his free hand gripping your throat tightly.

“I want you so bad,” you say struggling to breathe.

He slips inside, just barely giving you the tip, teasing you as he pushes in and out. “Tell me you missed me.”

You nod pathetically. “I missed you, bear.”

A low moan escapes his lips at the nickname, and he responds by giving you another inch. “Now apologize to me.”

“I’m sorry for ignoring you. I’ll think twice before I do it again,” you reply slyly.

He smiles. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

“I get it from you,” you tease, rolling your hips up daringly with a soft moan.

Without a word, he tightens his grip on your throat, thrusting into you hard. His hips slap against yours loudly, your back arching at the intensity. He doesn’t hold back or let you ease into it, he starts fucking you into the mattress.

“Not so funny now, is it?” he breathes, his movements relentless.

Your legs wrap tightly around his waist, your ankles locked together to keep him close. “Fuck!” you moan, overwhelmed with pleasure.

He leans down, connecting his lips with yours, moaning into your mouth as he lets go of your throat. His hand moves down to grip your hips instead, leaning until your chests touch. Buried in your neck, his hands squeeze your ass cheeks as he lifts your hips to meet each of his powerful thrusts. He fills you completely, stretching you in all the ways you love, and the sounds he makes in your ear has you clenching tight around him.

Suddenly, he pulls out, manhandling you into a new position. He grips your ankles, yanking your legs from around his waist and pushing them above your head. Your hamstrings stretch to the limit, but he pins you down, making sure you take every bit of him. He pounds into you from above, and you claw at his skin, all you could think about was how he feels inside you.

“Look at you,” he says, his eyes locked on where he’s plunging deep inside you. “Spread open like this, pussy swallowing me so easily. We trained you well, huh? You’re a fucking pro.”

One of his hands releases your ankle, dropping down to rub your clit with urgency. His fingers move in a blur, pushing you to the edge as he strikes that perfect depth. You squirm in his grasp, overwhelmed by the intensity of the pleasure building inside you. It’s almost too much, and every thrust makes it harder to hold on.

“Come on, baby, you know what I want. Don’t fight it,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss your chest.

Your body tenses and you're practically showering him with how hard you squirt. Your walls force him out and he just sits back and watches you convulse and make a mess.

He smiles wickedly at you “look at the mess you made.” Your juices drip down his chest and stomach.

Your cheeks heat up, and you watch, frozen, as he takes in the sight of you. “Don't get shy now,” he teases, before plunging back into you.

You're drenched, so wet that he slips in and out of you with ease. He loses all sense of control, the grip of his hands is bruising as his hips grind down hard. His moans are loud and primal, and he gets rougher the closer he gets to the edge. He slaps your thigh harshly, trying to keep you still and open for him as you squirm, trying to close your legs from the overstimulation.

“I know you can take it big girl come on,” he coos.

“I can’t… it’s too much,” you plead.

He slaps your cheek, the shock of the pain sending a jolt through your body. Then, he grips your face, his eyes boring into yours as he chants, “Take it. Take it. Take it,” with each thrust.

“Yes! Haechan!” You moan.

He uses extra strength to keep your hips pinned down as he uses you. His eyes flutter and his brows furrow and he finally cums deep inside of you. “Fuuck” he moans drawn out. His hips continue to move, fucking you through his high. He didn't want to stop, his thrusts turning pathetic as he finally succumbs to his overstimulation and locks up, unable to move.

When he finally pulls away, everything is sticky and wet, and you're left lying, exhausted, on the bed. The wet sheets stick to your body as you peel yourself off.

“Ew, who made this mess?” Haechan teases, as he changes the sheets, and you throw a pillow at him, leaving to take a shower.

Once he's finished cleaning up, he joins you in the shower for round two.

—

Chenle had rented a cozy cabin for the weekend, and you and your friends sat in front of the fireplace, laughing and sharing stories as the night wore on. Some movie flickered on the screen behind you, mostly forgotten as you all munched on snacks, wrapped up in blankets scattered across the floor.

Jisung was the only one still watching the movie, completely engrossed given the fact he picked it. It was some old alien abduction movie that the internet told him had “real alien footage” in it.

Meanwhile, Yangyang was sprawled on the couch, completely passed out, a half-spilled bag of Cheeto puffs resting on his chest.

You, Mia, Yuna, and Chenle were deep into your usual gossip session.

“Guys, I can’t hear anything! It’s getting good!” Jisung complained, shooting you an exasperated look.

“That’s what captions are for!” Yuna shot back.

“Spoiler, the aliens are fake,” you added.

“Shut up bro. You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Jisung hissed back in annoyance

“Can you all ignore him like I do and focus?” Chenle scolded, trying to redirect the conversation. “I’m trying to find out what happened next!”

The group pressed you for the juicy details of your sex life, eager to hear what had happened since you last caught them up. You had spent the day playing drinking games, chatting, and even sledding outside. But now, with the moon high in the sky, it was the perfect time for some dirty gossip.

“Basically, he had my legs up like this,” you said, using Mia as a demonstration dummy. Your friends were nosy, they wanted explicit details and you were more than happy to share with the table.

Mia started moaning dramatically, adding to the theatrics, and you playfully smacked her butt before pushing off.

“Omggggg, where do you find these guys?” Yuna squealed, barely able to contain her excitement.

Mia sits up and grabs her snack, throwing some trail mix in her mouth. “Literally, it’s not fair! You’re hogging all the good dick!”

“Sorry, guys, find your own.” you retorted.

“So, what are you going to do next?” Chenle asked, his tone turning more serious.

“What do you mean?” you asked, trying to gauge where he was going with this.

“In the long run—are you going to pick one or…?” he left the question hanging.

“Yeah, whoever you don’t pick, I call dibs,” Mia chimed in jokingly.

You felt a weight settle in your chest as reality hit you. You hadn’t truly confronted the question. The thought of the "what ifs" and "whens" sent a shiver of fear through you and whenever your mind would wander to those questions you ran away.

“I really don’t know,” you sighed, looking down at your hands. “I guess I’m just scared. I don’t think I can handle being thrown away again. I’m not ready to open my heart up yet,” you admitted quietly.

“That’s understandable,” Yuna replied gently. “But what about them? Are you sure they haven’t caught feelings?”

“I talked to Jeno about his feelings, and we came to an understanding,” you shared. “But for the others, as far as I know, it’s been strictly casual.”

“Just have five boyfriends,” Chenle suggested with a shrug. “That way, if one dumps you, you have a backup.”

“That’s the kind of greed they warn about in the Bible,” you laughed. “You know your ideas are always terrible, right?”

“I say don’t worry about it. Just have fun and enjoy yourself.” Mia advised with a wink.

“Be young and turnt!” Yuna added, throwing her hands up in a playful cheer.

You laugh and the talk lifts a weight off your shoulders. They were right. You should just enjoy what life threw your way and accept things for what they were.

“Glad we had this chat. Now can we watch the movie? The aliens are about to have an orgy!” Jisung exclaimed.

All heads whip towards the screen.

“Got your dumb ass now, watch the movie,” he scolded, a triumphant grin on his face.

—

Mark invited you over for game night with the guys, and you were a bundle of nerves. The last time all of you were together, things got a bit… wild. Mark had really bonded with the others outside of gaming, and they all hung out often now. You never knew who you'd run into when you arrived - sometimes it was Haechan, but other times you'd catch Jaemin just as he was slipping out the door, sending you a sly wink as he left. On occasion, you'd find Jeno sprawled out on the couch, engrossed in animal crossing on Mark's Switch while you and Mark would sneak off to his room for a quickie. Essentially, Mark’s house had become the new hangout spot.

When you got there, the kickback was already in full swing. The guys were all over the house. You could smell food, and you were already feeling better about being there. Jaemin and Jeno were locked in a Mario Kart battle, while Mark and Haechan were in the kitchen watching Renjun carefully arrange the food as they rambled about some MMORPG. Your stomach growled at the sight of the spread. Ducking past the TV, you slipped into the kitchen, offering greetings as you passed.

You walk up behind Renjun, swiping a nacho while he adjusts a bowl of salsa, tilting it ever so slightly for the perfect angle, everything had to be perfect for maximum snacking efficiency. It's the second time he's done so since you walked up. A furrow appears between his brows as he considers the placement. "I wasn't done yet," he grumbles, not looking up, his focus solely on the geometric harmony of the snack arrangement. You kiss his cheek with a laugh and turn to Mark and Haechan.

"What are you geeks talking about?" you tease.

"Don't listen to her babe, she just doesn't get us," Haechan jokingly reassures Mark.

Mark laughs, nudging him in the arm. "Dude, shut up."

Renjun straightens, pleased with his organization of the snacks. "We were waiting for you to get here so we could actually eat before the game," he says, gesturing towards Haechan. "He's been trying to sneak chips since we got here."

"Not sorry," Haechan shrugs, already reaching for the salsa.

"Okay, I'm starving," you say. Everyone piles into the kitchen, assembling their own plates before heading back out into the living room. Conversation flows easily as you all eat, enjoying the food Renjun brought for everyone.

Once the food is gone and the cleanup is finished, you collapse onto the couch. "So, what game are we thinking?" you ask innocently.

You hadn't yet realized you had walked into a wolf den.

"Well, before you got here, we were having a nice little chat with Mark," Jaemin says, his tone giving away exactly what that chat entailed. He's sitting to your left on the couch, too close for comfort. “We thought of the perfect game.”

"Oh," you laugh nervously. "…Really? And what's that?"

"Mark here thinks he's the best you've ever had, but clearly he hasn't met me," Haechan chimes in from his spot on the floor, leaning forward with a mischievous grin.

"This was their idea," Renjun says, gesturing to Haechan and Jaemin. He's standing near the TV, having just returned from throwing something away in the kitchen.

"Hear them out, though. It will be fun I promise," Jeno adds from beside Haechan.

Your head whips back and forth, searching for someone, anyone, who'll give you a straight answer. What the hell was going on.

"I thought I was special, baby. You should have told me you were fucking around," Mark says, his voice laced with a teasing possessiveness. "I don't mind, though, as long as they know I fuck you the best." He's on your right, effectively boxing you in.

Your face heats up instantly, and your eyes widen in disbelief.

"W-what are you guys talking about?" you stammer.

Finally, Renjun takes pity on you. "They want to see who can make you cum the fastest."

You knew nothing good would come of having them all together in one room. "And what does the winner get?" you ask, swallowing hard.

"The winner gets you all to themselves for a week," Haechan says, his smile predatory. Definitely his idea.

Jaemin pulls something from his pocket and hands it to you. "We're gonna roll this die, and that will decide how we try to make you cum" he says. It was a sexy die. Of course, Jaemin’s freaky ass had a sexy die. Written on its sides were “Fingers,” “Thigh,” “Dick,” “Dry Hump,” “Tongue,” and a Free Space.

"Some of these aren't very advantageous," you point out.

Mark shrugs, a confident smirk on his face. "That's the fun of it."

They were the players, and you were their board.

"You down? We don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course," Mark adds.

You take a deep breath. "I’m down." If you were honest with yourself, you were more than down. "How are we doing this?"

"You'll be the timekeeper to make sure it’s fair, and we'll start oldest to youngest," Renjun informs you, inching closer to the couch as the game is about to begin.

You nod, your heart racing as you contemplate what’s coming. You can already feel yourself growing wet despite them not having done anything yet.

"I’m first," Mark says, his voice a low rumble beside you. He pulls you to straddle him, his eyelids heavy as he takes in how pretty you look perched up on his lap. He leans back lazily on the couch and he reaches up to grab the back of your neck, gently pulling you closer for a kiss. His hands are busy stripping you while your lips move against each other. his touch drags teasingly over your body as he removes your clothes. His fingers brush against your nipples, making you gasp, and his hips grind into you from below as he helps you adjust your position after removing your panties.

"He's cheating lowkey," Renjun complains.

"Literally," Jaemin rolls his eyes.

“Yea! you're getting a head start, hands off.” Haechan chimes in.

“I'm just helping her undress to make it easier," he smirks, raising his hands in defeat.

He takes the die from your hands, his fingers lingering against your palm, sending a shiver down your spine. He tosses it onto the coffee table in front of you, the sound echoing in the suddenly quiet room. All eyes turn towards it, anticipation thick in the air, to see what it lands on.

THIGH

Mark groans at the fate that's been dealt to him, while the others snicker.

"That's what you get," Haechan teases.

Renjun quickly hands over his phone, the timer already pulled up.

"You ready?" you ask Mark, a sly smirk on your face, finding amusement in the choice he got.

His hands gripping your waist firmly as he positions you over his jean-clad thigh. His face showed nothing but determination. "I'm ready, baby."

You start the timer and Mark doesn't waste any time. His mouth descends upon your breasts, nipping and licking at the sensitive skin as he bounces you on his thigh, the friction creates a delicious sensation, making your breath hitch in your throat.

You're already wet, and the way he's handling you, dragging you over his thigh wasn’t helping the wet patch forming on his jeans. He slaps your ass before gripping it roughly, "just like that, baby, give it to me," he breathes against your skin, words muffled against the nipple in his mouth.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach. You love when he talks dirty, the sound of his voice doing something primal to you. You grind down roughly against his thigh, chasing your orgasm, wanting to be good for him. His hand finds your breast, joining the insistent tug of his lips as he expertly works you up. You tremble, a live wire under his ministrations. You were surprised at yourself. You didn't think you could come from a little thigh riding, but the rough pads of Mark's fingers, the way they pinch and tug at your nipples as you grind against him… it's only a matter of time now.

A hand reaches out for your face. You expect it to be Mark's, but his hands are fully occupied. It's Jaemin's face that greets you, his eyes locking onto yours as he pulls you into a searing kiss. Your surprise breaks way to pleasure as you let him take control.

His kiss melts you, and a whimper tumbles from your lips. You kiss him back feverishly and he matches your passion as his tongue slides into your mouth. Mark's hands tighten on your waist, his movements becoming rougher, pressing you down harder against his thigh. Mark's mouth, his hands, and his thigh, along with Jaemin's hot wet tongue, drives you over the edge.

You cum against Mark's thigh with a shuddering gasp, the phone almost slipping from your grasp before you realize you have to stop the timer.

8 minutes 19 seconds

Haechan groans dramatically when you show everyone the time. “You fucking helped him, dumbass! He could’ve gotten to 10 minutes,” Haechan complains, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

Jaemin shrugs, a nonchalant smile playing on his lips, "I don't care."

"I'm next," Renjun pipes up from his spot on the floor, a gleam in his eye. Despite the fact that there was plenty of room on the couch, Haechan, Renjun, and Jeno all sat crowded at your feet on the floor ensuring they had the best view of the show.

You climb off Mark's lap, and Renjun takes his place on the couch, settling in comfortably. "You're literally last, trade places with me," Haechan tells Jaemin.

Jaemin just rolls his eyes and scoots down on the couch, allowing Haechan to take his place and sit on the other side of you. Mark situates himself on the floor beside your leg.

Once everyone is settled and comfortable, Renjun rolls the die. Everyone holds their breath as it rolls to a stop.

DICK

"Fuck yes!" he shouts in triumph.

Everyone else groans in unison, but you can't help but smile. You didn't care who did it; you were just happy that you're finally getting filled up.

"It's rigged," Jeno huffs.

"Shut up, dog boy," Renjun smiles, unbuckling his pants.

Renjun pulls himself from his confines and strokes himself a few times before helping you over his lap. "Take all the time you need, baby, I don't mind," he winks.

He didn't care about winning, not when he still had his Tuesdays with you. Also why would he rush you, if you were riding his dick he was winning either way. He helps you sink down on his cock, and you start the timer, biting your lip at the stretch.

You could feel their eyes burning into you as you ride Renjun, other moans accompanying yours as you bounce on his hips. You look over and see Haechan already pulled himself free, stroking himself lazily while watching you intently. One of his hands reaches out to grab your wrist, resting your hand in his lap,and you grip him. Jeno is a little more conscious, only palming himself through his sweats, while Mark does the same. Jaemin sits beside Haechan, leaning back cockily, waiting for his turn.

You're so turned on it's driving you crazy; Renjun's hips kick up, fucking up into you roughly. "God damn," he moans, his eyes locked on yours.

You bounce on him with everything you have while trying to stimulate Haechan. Renjun feels amazing and with everyone watching, you feel twice as sensitive. You press your lips against his, and you kiss him desperately. "I'm close," you moan.

He grips your waist, stilling your movements, before grinding you down against him. He spreads his legs a little wider, then jackhammers up into you, jostling you around in his lap. You grip his phone with one hand and release Haechan from your other. All you could focus on at the moment was Renjun.

"Hold it, baby, there's no rush," he says, his voice a husky murmur against your skin. You throw your head back, and a loud moan escapes your throat.

You take it, savoring every second as he fucks you. You feel yourself tightening down around him, close to cumming, but he slows almost to a stop.

"Didn't think I'd ever say this, but hurry up!" Jeno groans, his impatience growing.

Renjun throws his head back, his hands gripping your waist tight as he guides you up and down his cock. He makes you ride him slow, enjoying every moment of being inside of you as he drags out his time.

"You feel so fucking good," he groans out. You could tell by the lazy look in his eyes he was enjoying this. He looked like he was floating on a cloud, high off the feeling he got when he was 6 inches deep in your warm cunt.

His hips pick up their pace, and you can tell he's close. He pulls you down into a kiss, smacking your ass as you ride him. You can feel your orgasm building back up quickly, and with one well-placed deep thrust, he's cumming deep inside you. You shiver as he fills you up and spill over the edge with him, clamping down hard as you cum together.

10 minutes 22 seconds

The others look at the two of you, unsure if they should be happy or mad that Renjun just lost, because from the blissed out look on his face did he really?

Renjun helps you off his lap and you sit down on the couch, your legs still gently shaking. You can feel your wetness dripping onto Mark’s couch, and you cringe a little at the thought.

Renjun stands up and zips his pants again while Jeno takes his spot. Die already in hand, he rolls it on the coffee table eagerly.

FREE

The gods must have been looking down on Jeno, because he rolled a free space, and he was about to use the hell out of it. Jeno was in it to win it.

His eyes lock onto Haechan and Jaemin. "Get off the couch," he commands.

Haechan groaned, his hand still wrapped around his hardness, but he obeyed, sliding off the couch with a reluctant sigh. Jaemin, however, didn’t move. Not an inch. Jeno’s glare sharpened, but Jaemin simply raised a cocky brow, his expression daring Jeno to make him. Jeno rolls his eyes but doesn't push any further. He had other priorities.

Jeno tugged his shirt over his head, revealing his toned chest. His muscles flexed as he tossed the fabric aside. “Lay down,” he ordered. You obeyed instantly and sank into the couch cushions.

Jaemin shifted slightly, settling your head into his lap with a handsome smile. His fingers brushed against your cheek as he caressed your face. You couldn’t help but glance up at him, he always looked good from above you.

Jeno noticed, his jaw tightened and a flicker of irritation crossing his features. Without a word, he shucked his pants down, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. He freed himself, thick and heavy, and positioned himself between your legs. His hand gripped your chin, forcing your gaze back to him. “Pay attention, baby,” he reprimands you. “Start the timer.”

Your fingers trembled as you fumbled with the phone, your breath hitching as Jeno’s free hand caressed your thighs. The moment the timer started, Jeno didn’t waste a second. He throws one of your legs over his shoulders and bottoms out instantly. The sudden stretch made you gasp, your back arching slightly off the couch. Jeno’s thrusts were sharp, precise, and calculated, each one driving deeper, harder, you could feel him all the way to the tips of your toes.

You moaned embarrassingly loud, your free hand gripping the couch cushions for support. Jeno’s rhythm was relentless, his hips slamming into you with a rhythm that left you breathless. The room was filled with the sound of skin meeting skin, punctuated by your desperate whimpers and the occasional grunt from Jeno.

From his new spot on the coffee table, Haechan moaned, “Shit,” his hand moving faster now as he watched you get fucked. His face was twisted in pleasure, his eyes locked on where Jeno was buried deep inside you. Mark had grown a little bolder. His hand now down his pants, his strokes slow but deliberate, his breaths quickening as he watched. Renjun, still sprawled on the floor, was too spent to join in, but his eyes watched as your chest bounced with each thrust.

Jaemin pets your hair as he looks down at you, stealing your attention away from Jeno again. “Look how well our pretty girl takes it.” He coos.

Jeno brows furrowed in frustration once he realizes you had taken your eyes off of him again. His hips grew rougher, his thrusts harder, until the springs of the couch groaned in protest. His hand moved to your clit, fingers pinching it meanly before rubbing soothing circles. Your eyes were on him again and he was going to keep it that way. He leans down, crashes his lips to yours and swallows your moans, keeping them all to himself.

The phone slipped from your grasp but you didn’t care. You couldn’t think about anything except the orgasm building in your lower belly. Jeno’s rhythm was unrelenting, each movement driving you closer to insanity. A particularly deep thrust that hits your g-spot just right sends you over and you shattered.

Your thighs trembled as you came, your mouth wide open in a silent scream. The pleasure was overwhelming, all-consuming, and Jeno didn’t stop. He kept fucking you, forcing both your thighs to your chest as he chased his own release. His breaths were ragged, his muscles taut as he pushed himself over the edge. With a low groan, he came deep inside you, his hips stuttering as he filled you.

“7 Minutes 43 seconds” Jaemin calls out showing everyone the time posted. Somewhere in all the chaos he found Renjun's phone.

Jeno didn’t pull out immediately, his forehead pressed against yours as he caught his breath. “Good girl,” he murmured loud enough for only you to hear.

Jeno finally pulled out with a grumble, tucking himself back into his briefs. “Someone didn’t stop the clock in time,” he muttered, shooting a pointed look at Jaemin, who only shrugged. You were too spent to sit up, laying still on the couch as your chest rose and fell with your labored breaths. Jaemin leaned down, stroking your cheek gently. “Good?” he asked, voice tender as he checked in on you.

You nodded weakly, your mind hazy and body still buzzing. Haechan took Jeno’s place and rolled the dice.

MOUTH

The others laughed at his luck but he only smiled wickedly. A shiver ran down your spine. They didn’t know the things Haechan could do with his mouth when he wasn’t running it.

Jaemin handed you back the timer and Haechan laid down between your legs on the couch, his face inches away from your used cunt. He blew air on your core teasingly causing your breath to hitch, you were still so sensitive. Haechan chuckles darkly, eyes boring into yours. “You ready baby?”

“Yes,” you whispered, starting the timer.

Haechan isn’t shy and he's not afraid of being a messy eater. Combine that with his competitive nature and you're in for it. He shoved his tongue deep inside you, curling it upward and tasting you with a satisfied hum. He didn’t care that he was eating his roommate’s cum from your pussy—if anything, it seemed to spur him on. He slurped away at the mix of your fluids like a whore. He was so nasty, so unapologetically filthy, and it was turning you on more than you cared to admit. You were already close and you couldn’t help the way you rocked your hips shamelessly against his face, clit bumping up against his nose deliciously. It was becoming too much and your thighs clamp down instinctively, trying to escape the growing overstimulation.

His arms pryed your thighs apart and pinned you down quickly. “None of that.” he tsked.

His fingers replaced his tongue, sliding deep inside you as he sucked harshly against your clit. He flicked his tongue expertly, scissoring you open with his fingers. The look in his eye was deadly. You couldn’t stop your hand from tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as you rode his fingers. Your hips trembled, your body tensing up as he devoured you.

“Fuck, Haechan, don’t stop—I’m so close,” you begged, your voice breaking.

His lips found your clit again, humming against it before pulling off with a loud pop. His fingers rubbed at your clit messily, gliding back and forward easily through your slick. His tongue dived back in to lick you clean. It was all that you needed. You came hard, your body convulsing as pleasure ripped through you. He didn’t stop, rubbing your clit through your orgasm as you came on his tongue. He didn’t stop until your hips thrashed wildly, your moans filling the room.

“Time,” he reminded you and you scrambled to cut the timer.

3 minutes 35 seconds

You dropped the phone with a huff, your body sinking into the cushions as you tried to catch your breath. Haechan sat up with a triumphant smile, face soaked and glistening as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

You waited for him to move, but he didn’t. Instead, he leaned down, his face inches from yours.

“I’m not done. Everyone else got to have their fun with you, baby. It’s my turn,” he said, voice dangerous.

He had been rock hard for a while and he slipped into you, not bothering to take off any of his clothes. His cock stretched you, filling you completely, and you gasped at the sensation. He buried his face into your breasts, licking and sucking at your nipples as he fucked you. His hips moved erratically, selfishly, as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

“Haechan,” you gasped his name, your hands gripping his shoulders as he buried himself into you again and again. He was so deep, so relentless, and you could feel him in your stomach with every thrust. He pulled out suddenly, stroking himself over your stomach. He had already been close due to him humping the cushions earlier. He wanted to make a mess of you. His cum splattered across your chest and stomach, hot and thick, and he groaned as he finished, his eyes locked on yours. It felt so disrespectful and degrading to do it but he loved it. You were his own little cum dumpster.

Haechan gave you a parting kiss when he finally moved off the couch. Before you could catch your breath Mark suddenly took his spot between your legs. You looked up at him in confusion, your mind still hazy from the intensity of Haechan’s attention.

“I’m sorry, baby girl. I need you,” he moaned, sinking into you without hesitation.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he fucked you, his hips slamming into your brutally. He regretted going first so badly, it was torture watching everyone else have their way with you. He was so fucking horny, he felt like he was going to die. He lifted your hips up off the couch and the new position hit deep. Your toes curled from the pleasure and you screamed. He knew you were probably still sensitive from Haechan, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. He couldn’t slow down, not when you felt this good.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized again, his voice strained as he drove into you harder, deeper. Your hands pushed at his waist, it was too good. He shook his head, his grip tightening as he forced you to meet his thrusts. “Be my good girl. Come on,” he grunted, his breathing ragged.

You shook your head, your body tensing as another orgasm ripped through you. He bit his lip, his hips stuttering as he came inside you. He dropped you back down on the couch like a rag doll, your body limp and spent.

Jaemin tapped your cheek, bringing your hazy vision back into focus. “Our princess is doing such a good job,” he praised you, his voice soft and sweet. “I’m so proud of you.”

You gave him a dopey smile, your mind foggy and body completely wrecked. You were out of it—fucked stupid by this point.

“Can our big girl take one more for me?” he asked, his touch caressing your shoulder soothingly.

You pouted, your bottom lip trembling. You were so tired, but you didn’t want to let him down.

“Come on, princess. You can take one more. I know you can,” he coaxed, his voice gentle but firm.

You gave him a nod, and he smiled, his pearly white teeth gleaming. “That’s my good girl,” he cooed.

He sat you up, taking the die that Haechan handed him and rolling…

FREE

Maybe the dice really was rigged

Jaemin looks over at you with a questioning gaze. "You sure you're up for it?" he asks again.

"Yes, sir," you reply, already slipping into your role.

He gives you a wicked grin. "In that case, stand up for me, pretty girl," he says, helping you to your feet.

You stand on shaky legs, and he grabs Renjun’s phone, still pulled up on the timer. "Don't drop it this time, princess," he warns, handing you the device, his eyes glinting with amusement.

He bends down, his hands cupping the back of your knees, signaling for you to jump. He lifts you up, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. The others look at the both of you curiously as Jaemin walks you over to the nearest wall and pins you up against it. He shoves his sweats and briefs down his thighs before lining himself up at your entrance.

“Start the time,” he said and once he hears the chime of the phone indicating that the time has started he slams into you.

You’re suspended in mid air pinned up against the wall, he uses you like you were nothing more than a sex doll. You were unable to move, your mouth made an o shape when you moaned and you stayed spread wide open for him. Maybe you were a sex doll.

You can feel the tears that stream down your face in overstimulation as he pounds into you. His lips steal your breath as he kisses you and his arms bulge as he keeps you lifted and steady for him.

"Touch yourself, princess," he instructs you, his voice muffled against your lips. Your free hand comes up, and shakily starts circling your clit. You moan, throwing your head back against the wall and your fingers falter, causing Jaemin to scold you, "Nuh-uh, baby, stay with me."

His hips don't slow, and he's fucking you so hard that the picture frames on the wall start to shake and threaten to fall. Jaemin's hips pick up an impossible pace, and you can feel yourself growing close to the edge. Your fingers play with yourself faster, trying to reach the climax.

“Thats right baby, almost there i can feel it” he moans “dirty pussy gripping me so fucking tight”

You moan at his words, and cum against him, pleasure washing over you. You stop the timer immediately, finally allowed to drop it from your grasp. You hear it clatter against the floor, followed by curses from Renjun. You slump against the wall behind you, and Jaemin helps you to your feet.

Jaemin picks you up and carries you back to the couch, and you all but welcome the soft cushions that support your body. You are dead tired. Renjun collects his forgotten phone and looks at the time stamped on the screen before showing it to the others. "4 minutes 19 seconds," he announces.

As you catch your breath, Haechan lets out a joyful whoop, while Jeno and Mark groan in response. Jaemin tends to you on the couch, checking in on you with a concerned expression. Mark gets up, announcing that he's going to run a bath for you, and the others begin to dress themselves or adjust their clothing. Jaemin helps you to the bathroom, where he and Mark carefully help you wash up, the warmth of the water soothing your tired muscles. The sounds of the others cleaning the living room filter through the closed door.

Later, you lay in Mark's bed, feeling exhausted but content. The others shuffle into the room, Renjun speaks first, "We're going to head back now, if that's okay. Do you need anything?" You shake your head sleepily and get cozy under the sheets.

“Rest up, ok?” Jaemin leans down to kiss your forehead before following Jeno and Renjun out of the room after they say their own goodbyes. Haechan lingers, a mischievous glint in his eye, and says to Mark, "Enjoy your time with her while you can, because starting tomorrow, she's all mine." He winks before leaving the room.

Mark jokingly rolls his eyes and gets up to lock the front door behind the others. When he returns to the room, he crawls under the sheets next to you and pulls you tight against his chest.

"Mark, I'm sorry," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I should have told you that I had something going on with the others."

Mark shrugs, his expression relaxed. "I was a little shocked when they told me, honestly. You just look so… innocent." He chuckles.

"Do you see me differently now?" you ask, a frown growing on your face.

Mark kisses your frown away, his lips gentle. "You're still my baby girl. I don't care what you do, nothing will ever change that."

He showers your face with kisses, making you giggle, and you playfully push him away. Then, you climb on top of him, straddling his hips.

"You're not tired?" he asks in amusement. You grin, feeling a surge of confidence. "I've got pretty good stamina," you say, leaning down to kiss him. "Plus, it’s like Haechan said, tomorrow I'm his, but tonight…" You trail off, your lips brushing against Mark's skin as you snake down his body.

Mark's eyes darken, and he whispered, "You're mine."

A/N: THE ENDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!!!! Maybe ill do the HC spin off maybe i wont, you'll just have to see. Lets see how well this does and ill think about it.

a/n: all choices during the dice game were randomly selected except haechan, he originally got thigh but mouth was literally made for him so I changed it

143 notes · View notes

angelesca · 20 hours ago

Text

d d d d dddd d DATING ANAXA HEADCANONS 🗣️🗣️🗣️ bc im proper insane, bonkers even (oh blimey she escaped the asylum again)

full art plug here😎

did i draw this and imagine a million scenarios during it? yes. yes idid. this post is the result. btw havent played 3.1 so here are my wrong headcanons (more mischaracterisation? love that) (w/ gnreader as usual!) bc i love my men bratty and smart. WARNING!! i broke my sfw rules for anaxa LMAOOO💔💔mix of sfw + NSFW ahead guys look OUT ITS NOT A DRILL THIS IS HAPPENING AAAAA😭🙏

starting off strong. i ant hold it in anymore ANAXA'S EROGENOUS ZONE IS UNDER HIS EYEPATCH🗣️🗣️🗣️ I HAVE SPOKEN MY TRUTH‼️THIS IS WHAT MADE ME QUESTION MY SFW STATUS I CAN FINALLY RELEASEMY DEMONS

i imagine he lowkey loves it when you have your finger under his eyepatch and. penetrate it. into his cosmos space thingy. and like he breathes really heavy, flushed cheeks, some tears, def some stifled moaning, and will hold your wrist to nudge your finger further in. basically bro is getting off to it. will clean your finger with his tongue after the session, but you have to help him walk around since his legs are deffo jelly after that DO YOU GUYS SEE WHAT IM SEEING PLEEEEASEEE SOMEONE WRITE THIS DONT MAMKE ME DO ITTT😭😭😭😭😭🙏🙏

EDIT: ANAXA HAS A "G-SPOT"/PROSTATE IN HIS SPACE CHEST🗣🗣🗣

WILL TAKE OFF HIS RINGS AND PUT IT ON YOUR FINGERS RAAAAAAAAAAH and he def teases you by sliding it on your ring finger, gauging your reaction as he smirks (that sly sod omggg)

"hmm, this finger looks a little lonely... i could change that."

interlaces his hand with yours to stretch it, like a massage. knows all the pressure points to help de-stress you

uses his wind powers to do fun magic tricks and play with you like imagine he only has to flick his finger and the wind pulls you closer to him HUUUUUUUUUUU SICKCCKKKK. will also blow a calm, soft breeze if you need to relax and take your mind off things.

literally gets a kick off of flustering you (it's his love language) every time you ask him why his response is: "so? don't like it?" mans not embarassed💔

if you have any texting habits, like sending cute stickers or kaomojis, anaxa will copy it bc he thinks its cute and amusing. always replying to your messages, although the same can't be said with the chrysos heirs who nag at him for ignoring theirs

anaxa: where are you? i've been waiting for ages ┬┴┬┴┤(･_├┬┴┬┴ you: ??? that's my kaomoji??? anaxa: ours now anaxa: (҂` ﾛ ´)︻デ═一 you: ＼(º □ º l|l)/

idk why i feel this so strongly but anaxa just does many smaller kisses, like pecks to the cheek. kinda playful, fleeting but always returning. i also feel like he's a neck kinda guy, always brushing his fingers along it or placing kisses. will secure you in place with a hug just to kiss the nape.

even though you two are together, anaxa will still give you stinky side eyes. loves to hear your gossip for sure, he doesn't say it but he loves chatting shit about others. will be the quietest ever when you have juicy stories.

will flame anyone who has made you upset to bits and pieces. bro's mouth is like a machine gun

likes to tilt your chin, moving it so you face him whenever he wants your attention.

he likes it when you take control, that brat taming typa shiii brooo00 he likes it when you rough him up, always a cheeky grin on his face. prods you as well, like "is that it?", "c'mon, harder my love..."

loves when you give him hickeys, or any markings like scratches. its like staking your claim on him and he fw with that😎

one sure way to get him flustered is straight up telling him "i love you". it forces him to confront his feelings head on and anaxa can't deal with that. will lightly flick your forehead, or anything to stop you from staring at his reddened face.

a/n: so. this is what happens whne im menstruating. how we feeling guys. it was jsut a few very insane headcanons tbh, the rest were fine, bit of an overreaction looool this is tame in comparison to my ao3 works. my god i need my daily cuppa where is it. this reminds me of when i was a wee teenager and experienced akechi from p5 for the first time. changed my trajectory fr. thanks akechi goro u saved ruined me

#my god im so deep inside (anaxa)#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #anaxa x reader #hsr anaxa #honkai star rail #hsr #anaxa

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chleem · 2 days ago

Text

Flashing Lights #8

Series; actor Drew x actress reader

Summary: Drew gets involved in the worst scandal of his career. One way to solve it? Proving to the whole world that he’s the sweetest lover to exist. Who better to help than the one person he can’t stand? You, an A-class actress with an alcohol addiction. So, will Drew clear up his reputation, or leave with a bigger mess to clean up?

Genre: fake dating, enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of k!lling oneself, mentions of rape & sa, mentions of drug usage, smoking & vaping, (read at own caution

⋆.˚ please dont copy or translate my work!

♡⸝⸝ chapter7 | index | chapter9

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

9:04 p.m

“I ordered, um, room service,”

You start, to which Drew just nods, while drying his hair with a towel.

You sit awkwardly on the couch, not sure of what to say now. The two of you rushed back to the hotel due to the pouring rain, and now that both are done showering, the realization of what was said is sinking in.

How does one start a conversation? You had no idea.

But, you’re glad Drew knows.

“What did you order?” He asks, coming to sit down next to you.

You glance at his naked upper body, quickly averting your gaze back to his face. He looks flushed from the shower, and he smells really good. “Um, just the usual.”

“‘The usual’?” The corner of his lips curl up.

“Wine, steak, etc,” you shrug, lazy to elaborate what you usually eat.

“What about mine?” His blue eyes stare into yours, a mischievous glint in them.

“Whatever I can’t finish,” you smile, leaning back in the couch.

He shakes his head, reaching for the tv remote. The tv opens, and there’s Netflix on it. The both of you stay silent as he logs into his account, and soon, you see his homepage.

Oh.

A series that you filmed recently released, and it was in the category of shows he was currently watching.

It was the only show that was in there. And if you looked down, you could see some of your other movies in his watchlist.

You snicker, glancing at Drew.

You don’t miss the redness forming on his ears, and his clenched jaw. His eyes stay glued to the screen, his hands clicking on the remote. “Someone’s a fan.”

“I share this account with my siblings,” he replies, eyes still glued to the screen. “They…they like you.”

Is he lying or being honest right now?

Either way, you feel good knowing he (or his siblings) like watching your shows. You don’t know if the movies are good or not, but at least someone’s watching them.

You turn back to the screen, watching him scroll through the different lists of shows underneath.

“These shows suck,” you mindlessly comment based on their covers. Truth was, you knew nothing about these shows.

A loud scoff leaves Drew, and you watch the screen as he stops at Nottinghill.

“I met her once,” you brag, the words rolling off your tongue carelessly.

“Of course,” he murmurs, pressing the play button before laying back and letting the credits roll.

You feel a flash of irritation, but you keep it in check. Drew's comment is subtle, but the way his tone is makes it clear that he's not impressed by your fame or connections.

“We talked a lot,” you mumble, eyes glued to the screen now, pretending to focus on the movie. “I have her personal number.”

His continued silence only seems to make the air thicker; the narration of the movie filling in for it.

You glance over at him, catching him in the act of rolling his eyes—just barely, but it’s enough to get under your skin. His posture is so relaxed, as though he couldn’t care less. Maybe he really doesn’t care.

A ding is heard; not from the movie.

Drew stands up, walking to the door.

You ignore the staff as he walks in to place the food on the living room table; at least, you try to. The staff keeps glancing over at you, with curious eyes.

Drew sits down next to you, the staff leaving as soon as he’s done.

You immediately reach for the wine over at Drew’s side of the table, but a gentle slap gets sent to your arm. “Ow,” you comment, to which Drew ignores, opening the bottle himself.

“Let me do it,” he mumbles, pouring it into the wine glasses.

He hands it to you, and when you stare into his eyes, the curl of your lips automatically goes up.

“What a gentlemen,” you tease, taking the glass from him. You take a sip, the wine smooth and cool against your tongue, but your gaze never leaves his.

The familiar feeling of relief curses through your bones, comforting enough to feel like ‘home’.

You glance at him; watching as his Adam’s apple throb as he drinks his.

It’s awfully weird; this calm atmosphere.

Screw it, this whole day was weird. Crying in front of someone? Staying sober? Shit, you must be going nuts.

Drew starts cutting the steak, and you watch as his biceps flex with every move. You try to focus on the movie, letting the smoothness of the wine distract you, but your eyes keep darting back to him.

“That’s mine,” you whisper, poking his shoulder. It feels just like how it looks; firm and solid under your touch.

You pull your hand back quickly, but the warmth from his skin lingers on your fingertips, making your pulse pick up.

Drew glances at you, his brow lifting, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "What’s mine?" he asks, his voice low, teasing. His eyes flicker down to the steak, then back to you.

"The steak," you say, your voice a little sharper than you intended.

Drew shakes his head, pushing the cut steak over to your side of the table. He steals a fry, before redirecting his attention to the movie.

You start eating, just realizing how famished you are.

Right now, Julia Roberts kisses Hugh Grant, after reclaiming the bag she forgot.

You snicker at that; finding the plot boring and predictable. “It’s like she wants to get caught,” you murmur, reaching for the bottle of wine again.

You lean forward, your body angling toward him, stretching just enough to grab the bottle from his side of the table.

As you do, you feel the heat of his presence behind you, his breath faint against your skin.

Your arm brushes his as you grab the bottle, and you catch the faintest scent of his shampoo. You pause just a second too long, fingers gripping the neck of the bottle. Fuck.

You pull back quickly, pouring the wine into your glass.

You can almost feel the weight of his gaze, even though he hasn’t said a word.

Then, he speaks up, just as Hugh Grant apologies for his word choice of ‘surreal’. “Just..watch, it gets good.”

“That usually means it’s bad,” you shoot back, gulping the wine down.

“Internet's’ not gonna like you for that,” he says.

You hate how you chuckle at his lame joke, the sound slipping out before you can stop it. The pit of your stomach feels uncomfortable; an easy feeling flowing through you that for once, isn’t because of alcohol.

“You enjoy this shit?” You ask instead, suppressing your smile.

Drew’s eyes remain on the tv. “Guilty pleasure,” he mumbles between chews.

“Really?” You fail to hide the skepticism in your voice, “this predictable, unrealistic shit?”

That makes Drew lean back, turning to face you. His blue eyes stare into yours in amusement, and there’s a slight curl on his lips. “Like your taste is any better.”

That makes you scoff, ready to challenge him back.

Except…well, you don’t have a favorite movie genre.

You don’t even have a favorite movie.

The realization hits you in the gut, unexpectedly cold. You pause, your lips parting to respond, but your mind is blank.

What is your taste, anyway? An easy question, yet you can’t answer.

The tension in his eyes further adds to the ache, so you turn towards the movie. “Not this, for sure.”

There’s a long pause before Drew speaks up again, the screen now showing Hugh Grant going to visit her at a hotel, also a press event. “Thriller. Second best.”

You don’t respond; trying to drown out this conversation. Is he trying to needle you, or is he genuinely curious?

“I know a great thriller movie,” Drew presses, “we can watch it after this.”

No response.

"I think you’ll like it," he says, quieter this time, but his words feel heavy, as if he's saying more than he means to.

Finally, you turn to look at him. His eyes are steady on you, and there��s something comforting in the way he’s watching you, like he’s not just offering a movie suggestion but a kind of unspoken support.

It’s the same comfort from earlier today—the same softness in his gaze that almost makes you feel safe in a way you’re not used to.

“Better be good,” it sounds restrained, reflecting the feeling you have in your stomach.

“The best,” he assures, a small smile slowly appearing on his face. The familiar feel of warmth coarse through you just like at the beach; all because of his simple smile.

You turn your gaze back to the movie, hoping to play it cool. That him spending time with you, is nothing.

——

11:26 p.m

The Conjuring. You never thought much of it, shrugging as Drew pressed play.

You figured you’d probably doze off halfway through, especially after two bottles of wine.

But you’re…wide awake, next to Drew, your gaze fixated on the screen. The camera focuses on a dark, deserted hallway of the haunted farmhouse.

You’re completely oblivious to how close Drew is.

Who scooted closer was unclear; just that there was no space between you two.

Drew could feel the tightness in your posture, the way your body stiffened with every creeping moment on screen. His arm brushed against yours, but neither of you moved away.

Suddenly, the camera zooms in on a cracked door. The tension builds as the whispers grow louder—until the door slams open and the spirit appears.

You gasp, and before you can even think, you bury your face in Drew’s shoulder, finding sanctuary in his arms.

The loud noise goes on, but you just press yourself deeper into his warmth.

He freezes for a moment, caught off guard by your sudden movement. His gaze shifts to you, seeing your face pressed into his shoulder.

For a split second, Drew just watches you, his chest tightening as he feels the way your lips, nose, cheeks, everything, brushes against his skin.

He stays still, caught somewhere between wanting to hold you closer, or move away.

Then, a soft chuckle escapes him, as if breaking the tension.

“Shit, you scared?” he teases.

Realizing how close you are to him, you pull away, scooting back to your side of the couch.

Drew catches the subtle shift, noticing the space that’s opened up between you.

And he almost wishes you hadn’t moved.

You lift your chin, eyes darting to the TV screen, trying to act casual.

“I’m not scared,” you mutter, your voice light but a little defensive.

You try to steady your breath, glancing at the screen. But just as you do, the spirit’s face suddenly flashes across it, its hollow eyes staring directly at you.

You scream again, louder this time, and practically jump out of your seat. Heart racing, you grab for the cushion next to you, clutching it like a lifeline.

Drew watches you, and a chuckle escapes him, “right. You’re the bravest.”

You send him a glare, meeting the blue eyes of his through the dark. “Shut up,” you say, eyes flickering back to the screen.

An amused grin tugs at his lips, his tongue pressing against his cheek. You’re hiding behind the cushion, eyes wide in fear as you stare at the screen.

After a beat, he speaks up, “I can’t watch this.”

He leans toward the remote, and when he clicks exit, there’s no fight from you.

——

11:40 P.M

Andy makes his way upstairs with his new toys, the toys in his room freaking out. It’s his birthday party, and the thought of ‘newcomers’ send the toys into a full-blown panic attack.

The toys scurry to hide, to return to their original places.

You’re focused on the movie, and you find yourself more intrigued than you’d admit. It’s a children’s movie, but in your drunken state, everything feels a little more intense.

But you can feel something burning the side of your face, a warmth that doesn’t fade. Even when you sip your drink, it lingers.

Turning toward the source, you catch Drew’s gaze. He’s staring at you, intense and unwavering.

“Stop that,” you immediately say, eyebrows furrowing.

“What?” He blinks, acting innocent.

“Doing that—staring at me," you say, your tone sharp but betraying a hint of nervousness.

The door of Andy’s room bursts open, and something is placed on the bed, causing Woody to fall underneath the bed.

“Hey- this part, this part’s good,” Drew comments, his attention back to the movie.

You scoff, shaking your head before shifting your attention to the screen as well, “you’ve watched this before.”

“Yeah, and it never gets old,” he replies, and you could almost hear the smirk tugging on his lips.

A new toy comes into the screen, one that’s in an astronaut suit.

‘Buzz-Lightyear to Star Command, come in Star Command. Star Command, do you read me?’

You feel the same heat on the side of your face again, and turning once again, Drew’s staring at you.

“Oh my god- stop staring!” You practically yell, the frustration in your voice unmistakable. You turn back to the screen, doing your best to ignore the heat creeping up your neck.

“Sorry- just wanna make sure you’re focused,” he murmurs, yet, he can’t pry his eyes away from you.

As Woody and Buzz meet for the first time, Buzz freaking out and pointing out his laser, you can’t help but let out a light laugh.

Drew laughs too, but not because of the scene.

Woody proceeds to crash out about the ‘cool new toy’, and you’re still smiling, clearly enjoying the scene.

Drew notices the way your eyes light up with that simple joy, and for a second, he’s quiet.

Then, he smirks, leaning a little closer, “you’re kinda- kinda like Woody.”

You lean back into your seat, a pleased smile spreading across your face, “Really? Because I’m such a hero?”

He chuckles, shaking his head, “because you freak out just like that.”

Your smile drops at the sudden insult, and you quickly come up with something lame to save face, “well…well you’re such a…Mr Potato Head.”

Drew raises his eyebrows in amusement, the smirk on his lips only growing wider.

“Because…because, you’re such a loser!” You hear it in your own mind, the lamest comeback to ever be said.

‘To infinity…and beyond!’

His throaty laugh echoes through the room, adding to your embarrassed state.

“Fuck off,” you murmur, hitting his shoulder.

It doesn’t get him to stop, his chest vibrating with laughter.

Annoyed and flustered, you turn your head to the movie, watching as Buzz makes the perfect landing on the bed.

“Hey, don’t get me wrong,” he gives your shoulder a playful poke, his voice teasing, “I’m honored to be Mr. Potato Head.”

“Yeah right- getting teared apart every five seconds.”

“So you can pay attention,” Drew says, stretching his arm across the back of the couch, his hand brushing your shoulder.

“I am, so stop distracting me,” you say, your voice tinged with agitation.

He chuckles under his breath, and as the movie goes on, his eyes still find themselves attached to you, watching your every reaction.

——

12:34 A.M

‘You are a cool toy!’ Woody exclaims, looking over at Buzz. Then, the realization slowly sinks in, ‘as a matter of fact, you’re too cool.’

‘I mean- I mean, what chance does a toy like me have against a Buzz Lightyear action figure?’

‘All I can do is…’ Woody pulls on the string behind his back, initiating his voice box that plays his most famous catchphrase.

‘Why would Andy ever want to play with me when he’s got you?’

It’s a sad moment, sure, but not enough to jerk a tear out of you.

However, you do hear a sniffle beside you.

The faintest kind, the kind that you think you might’ve hallucinated.

You turn back, seeing Drew fixed on the screen, but there’s a slight tightness around his jaw, and his eyes are shining.

Shining with tears.

“Are you- crying?” you ask, your voice a mix of disbelief and amusement.

He doesn’t look at you at first, his gaze glued to the screen, but the corners of his mouth twitch, and you can hear the slight hitch in his breath.

‘I should be the one strapped to the rocket.'

“I’m- I'm not crying,” he mutters, though it’s clear from the way his voice shivers that he’s not fooling anyone.

Your gaze doesn’t leave Drew as you watch the slight tremble of his lips. A single tear slips down his cheek, betraying the tough act he’s putting on.

Your lips curl up in a teasing grin, and you happily exclaim, “you’re crying!”

His eyes (teary eyes) meet yours, and he furrows his eyebrow, denying, “I’m not.”

“There’s a tear right here-“

“I’m not crying-“

“Please, you so are-“

“No-“

"You are!” you insist, leaning in and poking his cheek. His eyes narrow, the softness disappearing, replaced with a sharper look. “You’re a little bitch.”

Drew’s lips part, ready to say something, but you stop—just for a second. Your gaze lingers on his face, noticing how the tear glistens on his cheek, how his eyes, even with the sharpness, still hold something vulnerable.

You suddenly feel too close.

A flush creeps up your neck as you realize how pretty he looks like this, the mix of emotions playing across his features. Your teasing grin falters, and something gentler takes its place.

“…you’re…a little bitch,” you say, your voice softer now, trailing off.

You don’t know why, but your heart races, caught in the intensity of being so close to Drew.

Sure, you’ve shared tight spaces before, but this… feels different.

This time, it’s real.

No cameras, no crowd, just the two of you, alone in this moment.

Maybe it’s the alcohol in your veins, or just purely Drew, or something else entirely, but you’re convinced you should kiss him.

Kiss. Drew.

Your eyes flicker down to his lips, noticing how red and plump they look in the dim light due to his soft crying.

Then back into his eyes- and how they stare deeply into yours.

You close your eyes, leaning in, heart pounding as you brace yourself for the contact you’re certain will change everything.

Then—ding.

The doorbell rings, cutting through the tension like a cold splash of water.

Your eyes snap open, and you jump to your feet, the sudden rush of clarity sobering you up.

Shit, shit, shit.

“I’ll- I’ll get it,” you force out, your voice a little more high-pitched than you intended.

You don’t look back as you head to the door, not even bothering to check who it is. Your mind’s still buzzing from the near-kiss, and you just need something to pull you out of the tension.

When you open the door, it’s the second round of room service.

You let the staff in, unloading the food onto the table.

You stand there by the doorway, suddenly hyper-aware of your senses. Your heartbeat feels too loud in your chest, and the sound of the movie starts to feel suffocating.

You almost kissed Drew. Drew? Out of anyone, are you serious?

“Y/n?”

You blink, snapping out of your thoughts to realize Drew’s still seated on the couch, his eyes fixed on you.

It’s also when you realized the staff left, and you shut the door lightly.

“Yeah?” you ask, trying to act normal, though your voice feels tight. You’re standing awkwardly in the doorway, the last few moments replaying in your mind.

Drew tilts his head slightly, studying you, a small smile playing on his lips. He doesn’t move from the couch, just watches you from where he’s sitting.

“You good?” His voice is low, almost playful, but you can tell there’s an undercurrent to it—something more serious.

“Yeah…” you force out, your voice sounding more unsure than you want it to. You look away, avoiding his gaze for a second, your eyes flicking to the food, to anything that can distract you from this.

It doesn’t help with how naked his upper body is.

“Then come back, back to my side,”

He almost purrs, while his hands mix the sauce of the pasta. His biceps flex with every slow stir. It’s almost hypnotic, the way his arm moves, but you quickly look away.

You hesitate for a moment, but the gentleness in his tone pulls you toward him.

Quietly, you walk over, and sit down on the other side of the couch, the space between you two wide again.

The table full of foods sitting between you now, and the movie’s playing, but your attention is still fractured.

The silence stretches.

A push of plate across the table echos through the room, and it’s the plate of pasta that Drew just mixed.

The pasta that you ordered.

You steal a glance at him, his jaw tight as he focuses on the tv.

Your breath catches. You should say something. Anything.

You look down at the plate. The pasta looks perfectly mixed—cheese and sauce swirled in just the right way. It’s simple, but it feels oddly... thoughtful.

A knot in your stomach tightens, in a way you’re not used to.

And so you reach for the bottle of wine, finding it the perfect solution to these weird thoughts you’re having.

The warmth of the liquid as it swirls in your glass is a small comfort, something to hold onto while your mind races.

You take a slow sip of the wine, the bitterness slipping down your throat, trying to ignore the way your thoughts keep circling back to Drew.

Your eyes fixate on the screen, watching Buzz sit at a tea party with Sid’s little sister.

There's something unspoken between the two of you, a silent agreement that whatever almost happened is just... off the table.

An agreement to act like that moment never existed, and neither of you is going to bring it up. Not now, not later.

It’s gonna be locked away somewhere, sealed off behind a wall neither of you are willing to tear down, even though the tension lingers in the room, thick as ever.

Instead, the movie plays on in the background, the clinking of silverware and the occasional chuckle at the screen filling the gaps where words should’ve been.

——

1:03 A.M

After Toy Story and way too many bottles of wine, you’ve officially fallen asleep.

Your gentle snores catch Drew’s attention, and he glances over at you. It’s the way you’re curled up on the couch, eyes closed, breaths steady, lips slightly opened that draws him in.

He watches you for a moment, not wanting to disturb you.

Drew replays everything from today, his mind circling back to how it all felt too real.

The ‘date,’ if you could even call it that, the movie marathon, the way it all seemed to blur together in a mix of laughter and quiet moments.

But then there was the almost-kiss, too. He can’t stop thinking about it.

If there were no interruptions, he definitely would have kissed you.

And then there's the memory that stays with him, sharp and vivid—the way you looked, eyes red and teary, standing in the raining beach. Your crying wasn't ugly, not at all, but it hit him in a way he didn’t expect.

Even through the storm, he could see your vulnerability, raw and open.

He’s careful not to disturb the stillness as he reaches for the remote. He turns the TV off, the soft click almost echoing into the room.

A soft sigh escapes your lips, your head tilting slightly against the armrest. Even in your sleep, your brow is furrowed, that familiar expression Drew's come to know so well— you're either annoyed, confused, or tangled up in some unwelcome thought.

Without thinking twice, he shifts closer, leaning in just enough to carefully slip his arms under you. One hand slides under your knees, the other curling around your back.

He lifts you with surprising ease, trying not to jostle you too much.

You stir slightly, but your eyes don’t open.

His heart skips a beat at the way your body relaxes against him, even though you’re asleep. Your head rests against his chest, and he finds himself pausing, feeling the weight of you in his arms.

The closeness, the softness of your breath against his chest, makes him feel oddly protective, in a way he’s not sure he understands.

He carries you to the bedroom, and when he finally sets you down on the bed, he tucks the blankets around you, making sure you’re comfortable.

He lingers for just a moment, watching your peaceful expression, before he steps back, quietly leaving the room.

And when Drew sits back down on the couch, he knows for sure that after today, something shifted.

Something, that he hates to admit, has shifted inside of him.

-------------------------------

word count: 4.2k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: this chapter took me wayyy too long to write T_T anyway, this is my attempt at writing a movie marathon

and yes, this story has plot holes which i chose to ignore

elevator | other | index | ch7 | ch9

official taglist for this series aka the best ppl ever: @maybankslover @ditzyzombiesblog @xcinnamonmalfoyx @haruvalentine4321 @wearemadeofstardust0 @akxkr4st4l @percysley @stars4birdie @padf00ts-l0ver @sadheartjellyfish @darklove2020 @claudiamoscatoo

#drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x you #fiction #fluff #angst #series #fake dating #enemies to lovers #chapter 8

128 notes · View notes

burreauxsss · 1 day ago

Text

stunts

background: y/n a wag for the chiefs who is dating travis kelce of 3 years finds out he cheated on her. she assures herself that she'd never watch the nfl nor date another nfl player, until a convincing quarterback hits her dms.

(all pics from pinterest)

synopsis: y/n and joe get closer than ever on insta due to a bye week and travis and madison fallout. badly

notes: i dont think this surprises anyone. opposites sometimes dont attract! but at the end of the day, this is a short filler for the next chapter.

warning: this is a au/ alternative universe. dont read if you dont mess with au's??? not proofread.

yn.handle posted a story

caption: unbothered 🏃🏽‍♀️

duexmoi

❤️ 385,918 💬 49,107

Liked by: tmz and others

duexmoi: ladies what do we think?

username_1: pr stunt??

username_2: she just wanted attention because y/n was getting it for breaking up with him.

username_3: if this is true i swear.

username_4: hes washed anyways..

*load more comments*

yn.handle

❤️ 385,918 💬 49,107

Liked by: skims joeyb_9 yourbsf and others

yn.handle: day and night 🌙

username_5: shes so prettyy

joeyb_9: finest woman i know. yn.handle: thank you ml 🫶🏾

yourbsf: i thought this was the one outfit you weren't going out in? yn.handle: just had to tease someone.

username_6: shes only posting this because of the rumors. username_7: dawg she doesnt give a fuck.

*load more comments*

joeyb_9 posted a story

caption: 🌊

yn.handle posted a story

caption: bye week!

joeyb_9

❤️ 808,240 💬 83,688

Liked by: alo bengals yn.handle lahjay_10 and others

joeyb_9: halfway.

username_8: shooting my shot yn.handle: your a tad too late..

username_9: go rest joe 🧐

yn.handle: mind you, im on vacation with you right now.. joeyb_9: its bye week i know. 🙃

username_10: we play the eagles after this, are we screwed?

username_11: yes we're screwed.

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madisonreaves

❤️ 231,875 💬 1,934

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madisonreaves: moving on....

username_12: travis never wanted you lmfaoo

username_13: another pr stunt.. would not surprise me if you try to get with burrow or one of his teammates next.

username_14: beautiful!

username_15: howd travis turn out hm?

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yn.handle posted a story

caption: skims drop 🔜?

yn.handle and skims

❤️ 1.2m 💬 25,503

Liked by: vogue joeyb_9 yourbsf and others

skims: the queen of the queen city.

username_16: thats the most pettiest caption..

username_17: dont forget queen of the jungle

username_18: shouldve dressed in orange.

joeyb_9: thats my girl 🫢

username_19: we support a supportive bf..

username_20: only here because of my qb reposting this on his story.

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bengals

❤️ 1m 💬 49,982

Liked by: joeyb_9 lahjay_10 yn.handle and others

bengals: whiteout the jungle.

username_21: the eagles will put bta.

username_22: we got this.. totally

username_23: tough game. defense better be focused.

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notes: hope yall enjoyed. also this posted lmfaoo

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lostinlovingrevery · 3 hours ago

Text

Oh my god

The way this has me SOBBING

This is it. This is THE OLD MAN LOGAN LOVE STORY THE WORLD NEEDED.

Movies great. This is better. This is canon, nope you cant tell me otherwise.

THE FEELING OF FATE? KNOWING THE OTHER IS THERE? BEING TIED TO EACH OTHER NO MATTER HOW FAR?

Its so beautiful. The way reader is so sure of herself. The way logan doesnt want to give in only to protect her, bc he doesnt deserve it BUT HE GOES BACK TO HER ANYWAY

The "breakup" had me CRYIIIINNNG,

And then Charles?!!!! OMFG CHARLES!! Laughing through the tears at Charles spraying him with water and calling him a PUSSY! CHARLES PLS I loved that part so much.

The softness of logan and reader. How they met, her home and the porch light always been on for him. How she accepts him so easily. In comparison to Logans life of violence. They correspond so well. The sexy and sweet aspect of it that Logan melts into. How he cant truly deny how its more than just sex to him???

When he comes back, and she KNOWS. She accepts that hes not ready yet. How he melts into her belly when he hugs her(PLS???). The way he opens up. He just cant stay way. He loves her 😭

THIS. Hes so overwhelmed

Oh my god the way this shook me to my core. Like physically I had a reaction. The smut scenes were so AMAZING. They were written so well I could just feel the physical connection between them (or maybe im just horny lol)

The porch light being compared to a halo over reader? PLEASE????

AND THEN

She accepts him back so easily. She was so scared. Shes just happy hes there.

The ending, holding each other. Hes so tired and warn.

"You left the porch light on"

ISVOBDODBOHROBR

Im gonna go cry so more this was the most PERFECT thing ever written. I stg im gonna make it in a lil booklet that i keep by my bed to remind myself of true love bc this is is written write in.

The angst, the fluff, the SMUT, I cant. Its perfect. Marvel get your asses over here and hire Lub bc shell write Logan a REAL story that he deserves.

Not to mention you wrote old man logan so well??? The weariness?? The aches??? The grumpy fluff?? *chefs kisses* theres a tenderness behind him with reader. I really feel like this SHOWS old man Logan (or logan in general) and who he really is if he was given an honest to god soulmate.

Best thing ever. Academy rewards. New York Bestseller.

Dont mind me as I curl my body around this fic and whisper sweet nothings to it. Actually, give me some privacy will ya?

Giving you the BIGGEST WARMING HUGS Lub. You should be SO PROUD, youve really made something amazing. Maybe im just an emotional sappy romantic but this is just...

Come A Long, Long Way

SYNOPSIS: His days are long and his nights are longer. He comes to you during those hours when the rest of the world stills, lured in by something almost like fate.

PAIRING: Old Man Logan x fem!reader

WC: 12.2k

WARNINGS: smut 18+, mdni; angst; swearing; non-explicit mentions of wounds, scars and healing; gratuitous sexual tension; mentions of alcohol/alcohol consumption; dirty talk; frottage; nipple play; surprise appearance by Charles; oral (f receiving); fingering; unprotected p in v; sex with feelings; cowgirl; mating press; creampie; brief mentions of Laura; happy ending because I said so

A/N: The idea for this story came to me through a song--My Fair Lady by Kaleo. I was struck by this verse: I'm weary from my travels // I've come a long, long way // I haven't felt a woman // Since last that I was here // Oh, won't you bring me whisky // And run your fingers through my hair? // Oh, won't you whisper sweet words // Oh, so softly in my ear? I thought, "Wow, that's so Old Man Logan" and this is what I birthed from that. This may be one of my favorite things I've ever written, and I sincerely hope you think so too. Huge, huge thank you to @yxtkiwiyxt for betaing this for me and making the final draft what it is; you helped end this in such a beautiful way. Thank you to @saradika for the use of her graphics. And as always, I hope you enjoy this and any likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

He shouldn’t care about the car pulled over on the side of the road, hazard lights blinking as the rain pours down.

For three days, Logan’s entertained a rowdy bachelorette party, chauffeuring them from bar to bar, dinner to dinner. The scent of cheap perfume and desperation still linger inside the limo, the drunken, whispered advances still burn against his skin.

He’s tired. Exhausted down to his very marrow and he wants nothing more than to crawl onto his sagging mattress and steal whatever amount of sleep his shattered mind will give him.

So, no. He shouldn’t care about the car.

But he finds himself easing off the gas, the limo starting to slow as he nears. He feels drawn, like a month to a flame, as if some unseen force has wound itself around his sternum and is pulling him forward.

Pulling him to you.

As the limo approaches, he spots you crouched down by the front left tire, struggling with a lug wrench, the tool slipping in your rain-soaked fingers. He can almost hear the curses spilling from your lips as you glance up and look towards where he’s sitting.

Logan knows you can’t see him, not well anyway with the headlights shining directly upon you and the rain pouring down in sheets, but he swears you find his gaze, your eyes seeming to pierce down directly to his soul. He feels the flutter of something deep in his chest and he feels exposed, like a raw wound that hasn’t quite healed.

For a moment, he hesitates, and wonders if you’re a siren, out here in your element to lure him to his death. Then your gaze drops and the thought dissolves but only just. Before he can talk himself out of it, Logan’s throwing the car in park and opening the door.

The rain is frigid, the cold biting at his skin as the downpour soaks him down to the bone. You glance up at him as he approaches, your fingers loosening around the wench but still keeping it firmly in your grasp. Straightening up, you push wet strands of hair out of your face, your fingers trembling from the cold.

“Need a lift?”

He doesn’t know why he asks. What he should do is swap out the old tire for the spare and let you go on your way. But those eyes of yours are piercing him again, the hook you’ve sunk deep in his sinew pulling taut once more and Logan feels compelled to take you home.

For a few moments, you continue to silently assess him, your gaze flitting between your car, the limo behind him and back to his now soaked frame. Then, you stand and open the driver’s side door, tossing in the wrench and pulling your purse close to your chest. You follow him to the limo and climb into the backseat as Logan slips back in behind the wheel.

He glances back at you through the rearview mirror, watching as you lean back into the seat, your wet clothes clinging to every curve of your body. Which is another thing he shouldn’t care about and yet…

Clearing his throat, he turns up the heat. “Where you headed?”

“North. About twenty miles or so.”

Logan nods and shifts the car into drive, heading back down the road as the rain continues to come down. Several minutes pass in silence, save for the rhythmic thump of the windshield wipers. Finally, your voice breaks through the silence, soft and lilting.

“Got a name?”

“Who’s asking?”

A half smile tugs at your lips as you slide from the seat and slip into the row directly behind the partition. Logan can feel the damp of your skin as you lean into his space, the scent of rain flooding his nostrils almost intoxicating. You say your name and wait for him to respond in kind.

“Logan,” he answers, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

“Life hasn’t been kind to you, has it, Logan?” you ask, his name dripping from your lips like honey and just as sweet.

Logan stiffens, his grip tightening on the wheel as your words cut through the night. There’s no pity in your tone, which he’s silently grateful for, but an unsettling mixture of curiosity and understanding.

At the best of times, he doesn’t like anyone trying to scratch below the surface, to worm themselves into all the soft and vulnerable bits he tries so desperately to hide away. Now that he’s older and feeling every bit of his age, the weight of his bones threatening to drag him down with each step, he likes it even less.

“It’s not kind to anyone,” he answers, turning his head just enough to glance sideways at you.

You tilt your head slightly, a wordless noise humming in your throat. “Maybe,” you concede, voice soft, like you’re mulling over his words. “Except your life has carved itself into you a little more than most.”

He wants to be annoyed, to slam his foot on the brake and send the limo careening into reverse back towards your broken down car. But something stirs in him, thrumming in time with the pulse beating in his veins—a spark of irritation mixed with that pull that’s been gnawing at him since he first saw you.

“You a therapist or somethin’?”

You chuckle softly, the sound low and intimate, as you lean back into the seat, finally putting some space between you. “No. Just intuitive.”

“Yeah?” He looks up at you through the rearview mirror with a scowl. “Intuit less. Just tell me where I’m goin’.”

A soft, chiding “tsk” falls from your lips and you shake your head, but Logan doesn’t miss the smile playing on your lips. You give him directions to your house and for moment you both sit in silence but the air remains heavy with unspoken tension.

Logan pulls off the highway, beginning to wind through the smaller streets of the town as he gets closer to your place. The thought of this ride ending, of you leaving this car, both thrill and disappoint him.

“You believe in fate?”

The question cuts through the silence, pulling Logan’s focus back to you. He glances at you briefly, your expression thoughtful as you wait for him to answer.

“No,” he finally says, voice flat.

A soft hum escapes your throat. “Unsurprising. But don’t you think, Logan,” you begin, leaning back into his space, “that maybe fate is what brought us together?”

You have that knowing look in your eye again, a sly smile tugging at your lips. As if you’re in on some cosmic secret he’s not privy to. It unnerves him.

But it intrigues him, too.

“I think a broken down car brought us together.”

“Or maybe life decided to be kind to you,” you challenge. “To bring me to you.”

Logan turns into a quiet subdivision as your words rattle around in his brain. The rain has mostly subsided, but is still falling in a gentle drizzle as he pulls up in front of your house, a single porch light illuminated in welcome. It looks small, yet homey, the kind of place he could have seen himself in once if life had been kinder to him.

“You should come in,” you say as you gather your belongings. “Get out of those wet clothes.”

Your eyes meet his again through the review mirror, a mischievous glint in your gaze and an even more sinful smile on your lips.

It’s been a while since he’s been with anyone. The thrill of finding a partner for the night having lost its luster around the time his bones started to ache. More often than not, his sexual escapades involve his own calloused hands and memories from when he was a younger man.

“Think about it,” you offer as you open the door and slip out of the limo. “Door’ll be open.”

Logan sits, hands gripping the steering wheel, contemplating whether or not to follow you into the house.

Your offer is tantalizing, ripe for the picking, and the baser part of himself wants to accept—follow you into sin. You’ve already injected yourself into his veins, he might as well see the high through.

The rational part of his brain knows he should leave, throw the limo in reverse and tail it back to the life he’s carved out for himself in the desert. Experience has hardened him, left him unable to, or maybe unwilling to, open himself to others. He doesn’t need whatever it is you think you can offer him, no matter how alluring and sweet your words may be.

The weight of his wet clothes against his skin begins to feel almost suffocating and with a low curse under his breath, Logan steps from the limo and follows the path you took up the porch and into the house.

A trail of water leads from the front door to a small laundry room just off the foyer and then damp footprints lead deeper into the house. He can hear the low rumble of a dryer as he steps further into the space, the squeak of his shoes against the hardwood doing nothing to hide his approach.

Logan finds you in the kitchen, lights dimmed low, standing in only a pair of mismatched underwear, the damp fabric barely concealing what’s underneath as you gently swirl a glass of whiskey. A second, untouched glass sits next to your hip on the counter.

“You seem like a whiskey man,” you say, your smile curving around the glass as you take a slow sip. “Did I get it right?”

Stopping in the doorway, he flexes his hands at his sides, and wills himself to move—forward, backward, he’s not quite sure. The muted light catches along your curves, the damp sheen of your skin enticing, the dark outline of your nipples and curls between your thighs acting like a beacon. Logan can feel himself hardening against his slacks.

He can smell you—bright and earthy and wholly intoxicating. Your heartbeat echoes in his ears, quick, but steady, betraying no fear.

“If you wanted to hurt me, you would have done it by now,” you say and he has half a thought to wonder if you can read his mind.

A sly smile spreads across your face as his eyes finally meet yours, a knowing edge to your expression that further sets him off balance.

“What’s happenin’ here?” Logan finally rasps, his voice low and rough.

You give a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders as you grab the glass next to you and take a step towards him, your movements slow yet deliberate. He doesn’t move, rooted to the spot as you approach him.

“That’s up to you,” you reply, handing him the glass. “You can get out of those wet clothes and enjoy this whiskey with me, or,” you pause to step closer, “you can walk back out that door and pretend like you weren’t curious about what’s waiting for you here.”

Logan’s fingers grip the glass in his hands just a little too tight as you stare up at him, holding his gaze a beat longer than necessary. You’re challenging him, daring him to act, and he knows the minute he breaks, he’s done for. He won’t be able to stop.

You risk another step closer, leaving barely a breadth of space between you. He can feel the heat radiating off your body, can smell the rain on your skin, as your closeness overwhelms his senses. He wants to drown in you.

“What’s it gonna be?” you ask in a whisper, your fingers trailing along the edge of his belt buckle.

Your touch and proximity ignites something primal in him, something he thought long extinguished. Logan can feel pure want, need, surge through his veins and lick flames along his skin. His free hand moves on instinct, wrapping around your wrist, halting your teasing fingers before they venture any further. His restraint is hanging by a thread, fraying and threatening to snap.

“You sure this is what you want?” His voice is low, all gravel and grit as he stares down at you, his eyes darkened by a hunger begging to be fed.

Your lips curve into a slow, knowing smile as you press yourself fully against him, soft and warm. Rising up onto the balls of your feet, you drop your gaze to his lips before flicking your eyes back up to his and ghosting your mouth along his jawline. “Stay with me,” you whisper, sliding your hand up his chest. “Just this once.”

Logan’s restraint snaps. The glass tumbles from his hand, shattering against the floor, but neither of you seem to notice. His hand moves to the small of your back, wanting to press you impossibly closer as his lips crash into yours, hot and demanding.

You respond in kind, a whimper dying in your throat as your fingers tangle in his damp hair, urging him closer. A growl tumbles from his lips as he trails his mouth down your neck, nipping and tasting as he goes, his tongue finding your pulse point and sucking. His hands roam freely, his calloused fingers sliding over your smooth flesh, palming your hips and gripping you as if you’re the only thing grounding him to earth.

He feels alive. Every cell in his body hums beneath your touch, the constant aches and pains temporarily erased. You’re a balm to his very soul, smoothing the ever deepening cracks and making him feel whole.

You gasp as he nips at a spot just below your ear and he smirks against your skin, the sound spurring him on. “Tell me where your room is, or I’m fuckin’ you right here on the table,” he husks, his voice thick with desire, breath fanning over the shell of your ear.

Pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, your lips swollen and eyes dark, you reach for his hand and wordlessly lead him past the living room and down the small hallway to your room. Once inside, he pulls you back towards him, mouth slanting back over yours, stealing the very air from your lungs.

His cock is almost painfully hard as he walks you towards the bed, only pulling his mouth away from yours as your knees hit the edge of the mattress. Instead of sitting back on the bed, you reach for the buttons on his shirt, easing them open before sliding the fabric from his shoulders. There’s an eagerness to your movements, your fingers fumbling with his belt buckle as he sheds his undershirt and tosses it somewhere behind him.

Logan watches with a hooded gaze, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, as you shove his pants down his legs, barely getting them past his knees before you’re reaching for the waistband of his boxers.

His fingers curl around your wrist, halting your movements and you gaze up at him, licking your lips. “Slow down, sweetheart,” he murmurs, a smirk tugging at his lips. “We have all night.”

A shiver runs through you and then his mouth is on you again, hungry and all-consuming. He drinks you in like a man parched, lips and teeth mapping the curve of your jaw, the solid edge of your collarbone as your pretty little moans and gasps fill the air. You tilt your head back and offer yourself to him, your hands grasping at his shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle to keep him close.

His hands are rough against your skin as he slides them up your sides, tracing the soft, damp skin below the band of your bra. Unfastening the clasps, he trails the fabric down your arms, his eyes darkening as he finally takes in your bare breasts.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his voice dripping with raw want.

Any final restraint he has evaporates and he kicks the last of his clothes off before tightening his hands around your waist and setting you down on the bed. Logan steals the gasp from your mouth as his body covers yours, easing himself between your thighs and thrusting once against your clothed cunt.

He cups your jaw, thumb stroking over your bottom lip, pulling it down just enough to wet the skin. “Last chance,” he husks, his breath fanning across your lips. “Last chance to stop before I ruin you.”

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging just hard enough to elicit a growl, his teeth bared. A sinful smile spreads across your face. “Oh, Logan,” you coo, “who says I’m not going to ruin you?”

Logan lets out a deep, guttural sound, something between a growl and a groan before he slots his mouth back over yours and follows you into temptation.

“Figured you’d try and sneak out.”

Logan whirls around at the sound of your voice, claws slowly unsheathing from between his knuckles. Blood wells up from the wounds, dripping between his fingers as he finds you dressed in an oversized shirt, the hem just concealing the edge of your panties. Your expression belies no fear as you take in the metal jutting out between his skin, your eyes alight with an acceptance he’s not use to.

Fear, disgust, repulsion, but rarely acceptance.

Slowly, he retracts his claws as you move further into the kitchen, stopping at the sink to grab and moisten a washcloth before coming to stand in front of him. Logan instinctively pulls away from your touch, but you’re undeterred, taking his hands in yours and wiping the blood away from his skin. Your movements are gentle, taking care to avoid the still healing slits.

Washed of blood, you finally glance up at him. “You can stay, you know.”

“I’m not the stayin’ kind, sweetheart,” he mutters.

One of those slow, knowing smiles tugs at your lips as you release his hands and Logan actually mourns the loss. “We’ll see,” you say with a shrug, stepping back just enough to put space between you. “I don’t think fate is done with us yet.”

Your words hang in the air like smoke, curling around him and pressing into his skin. He wants to argue, the words burning on his tongue, but he doesn’t. Because despite his earlier claims that he didn’t believe in fate, he can’t deny the unnatural pull you have on him. A pull Logan doesn’t necessarily dislike.

At his silence, you lean up and press the faintest of kisses to the corner of his jaw. “I’ll leave the light on for you,” you whisper into his skin.

It’s then he knows—he won’t be able to stay away.

Logan shows up at your door again two weeks later.

He’s been driving around some bigwig CEO, chauffeuring him from conference to conference during the day and dropping him off at random hotels during the night. When he gives Logan the address to tonight’s hotel, Logan knows instantly he’s in trouble. Just his luck the hotel is in your town.

Pulling off the freeway, he feels that familiar tug behind his ribs. His hands itch with the want, the need, to turn the wheel towards you instead of the address on his GPS. Since that night, you’ve haunted him, your face showing up in his dreams, waking with the sensation of your softness burning into his skin.

Logan knows he could stay at the hotel or sleep in the back of the limo like he’s done so many times before. But as he slowly inhales at his cigar and waits for Mr. CEO to stop fingering his mistress in the back seat and get the fuck out, the need to be near you only grows stronger.

And damned if he knows why.

He doesn’t need a relationship, or whatever the hell this is. Enough of him has been spread to others, for better or worse, and he’s already worn thin. The last remnants of any family he has are hanging off a very precarious ledge and he can’t bear the heartache of more loss if he opens himself to you.

But as much as Logan keeps telling himself he’s closed off, fortified against anything new, he can feel himself bleeding through the cracks.

By the time he finally turns down your street, it’s well past a respectable visiting hour. Most houses are dark for the night, but not yours. The front porch light illuminates just like it did two weeks ago and the dim lights of the kitchen shine through the pulled blinds. You’re up and a frisson of anticipation shoots through him.

He parks the limo and stamps out the cigar before walking up your driveway. As he approaches the door, he hesitates. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. While your final words to him were open ended, did that give him the right to just show up in the middle of the night?

You open the door as he contemplates and when his gaze finally focuses on you, he relaxes. A well worn robe is tied around your waist, your hair tied up in a messy bun, your face cleaned of makeup and yet you’re more alluring to him than you were that night in the rain.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” he confesses, stepping just a bit closer towards you.

A slow, soft smile spreads across your face. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually,” you reply. You open the door to allow him entrance and he steps in after you.

Logan follows you into the kitchen, where you already have a glass of whiskey ready for him. Handing him the glass, you nod your head towards the living room. “Come. Relax for a bit.”

He follows you into he living room, the single lamp casting a soft glow within the space. You settle onto the sectional, tucking your legs beneath you and turning yourself towards him as he joins you. For a moment, neither of you speak, but the silence isn’t awkward—it’s comfortable, like it always is around you.

“You look tired,” you say, finally breaking the quiet. Your voice is soft, a sense of familiarity laced in with your words, as if you understand the magnitude of his fatigue.

Logan huffs as he swirls the whiskey in his glass, watching the amber liquid catch the light. “Honey, I’m always tired,” he replies. “Comes with the territory.”

You give a small hum, your head tilting to the side as you assess him. “You’re in pain, too.”

Logan freezes at your words, his eyes flicking up to your face. His gaze locks with yours, sharp and guarded, like you’ve peeled back a layer he wasn’t ready to expose. And yet, you’ve been doing this since the beginning. Finding the cracks in his facade and wedging yourself in until the gap widens, uncovering the raw nerves underneath.

“What makes you say that?” he asks, his tone challenging.

You gaze remains steady and calm, holding a softness that unnerves him more than the question itself. “Because it’s written all over you,” you say simply. “I see it in your scars, in the way your hands are always clenched, as if steeling yourself against a blow that’ll never come.”

Logan exhales a low, humorless laugh before taking a long sip of whiskey, relishing the burn as it slides down his throat. “Don’t even notice it anymore,” he lies, shifting in his seat.

Your mouth tugs into a gentle frown as you shift, crawling closer to where he sits. You pluck the glass from his fingers, swallowing down the rest of the whiskey before setting it on the coffee table. Logan watches as you swing your legs over his lap, your robe riding up to reveal the smooth expanse of your thighs.

The weight of you against his lap sends a rush of arousal down his spine and he can feel his cock stir in his slacks. If you notice, you ignore it, instead reaching for a small bottle of lotion on the end table and squeezing a dollop into your palm. You rub your hands together twice before reaching for his right hand.

Your thumbs dig into the meat of his palm, a low groan slipping from his throat before he can stop himself. You bite your lip, but Logan can see the sly smile beneath.

“You help take care of everyone else,” you begin, rubbing the lotion further into his calloused palms. “Who helps care for you?”

Logan feels flayed open, that pull that spins him into your orbit only growing stronger as you see down to his very soul. Caliban swore you weren’t a mutant but Logan still couldn’t shake the idea that you were something more.

“What are you?” he asks, his eyes tracing the lines of your face, watching you concentrate on his hand.

You slide your fingers along the pink, puffy lines between his knuckles, a slow hiss escaping between his teeth as you massage the tender flesh. He wonders if you know how sensitive his skin is now, how each time his claws come out it hurts just a little bit more than the last time.

“I’m human,” you reply, positioning his hand to focus on the back, tracing the fine scars there. “Same as you.”

“I ain’t human.”

Your eyes flick to his as you drop his right hand and reach for his left. “You’re human where it counts,” you say, beginning to massage his hand.

Logan scoffs. “Yeah? And where’s that?”

You release his hand and place your palm in the center of his chest, your fingers splayed over his heart. “In here.”

He swallows hard, his gaze dropping to where your fingers are resting against him. You touch him like you’re unafraid, undeterred by the metal in his bones and the sometimes primal rage that courses through his blood. His killed—for the sake of war, self preservation, and for reasons not so innocent—but you can somehow still see past that, to some soft part of him that still lingers.

Logan itches to touch you, to pull you closer and—

“You can touch me,” you say, as if pulling the thought from his head. “I like when you touch me.”

Logan slides his palms up your thighs and around your hips, pulling you flush against his lap, your clothed center pressing against the fly of his slacks. He doesn’t miss the gasp that falls from your lips or the shift of your hips as you try and press closer.

That thrum of aliveness begins to churn in his veins as he slowly unties the sash of your robe, allowing the fabric to fall to the side. You’re bare underneath and Logan can’t help but lean forward and press a kiss to the center of your chest.

“You dress like this jus’ for me?” he asks, dragging his lips towards your breast and pulling a nipple into his mouth, working into a taut peak beneath his tongue.

Your fingers wind themselves into his hair, holding him close. “Yes,” you breathe, a whimper falling from your lips as he moves to your other breast. “Only for you.”

A surge of possessiveness rushes through his veins and Logan can feel the prickle between his knuckles, his claws threatening to unsheathe at the thought of you with another man. Instead, he doubles his focus onto you, his beard scraping against your skin as he licks a hot stripe across your nipple. “Damn right, only for me,” he growls.

You shift your hips in response, seeking more friction against the hard length of his cock pressing against you. Logan groans, his fingers digging deeper into the flesh of your hips, urging you to move against him. The soft, wet heat of your cunt through the thin fabric of your panties and his slacks sets his control on a razors edge.

Logan leans back slightly to lock eyes with you, your pupils blown wide with want, your skin flushed with desire. You find his gaze, hazy with pleasure, but focused and then you smile at him, bottom lip pinned between your teeth.

“And you, Logan,” you whisper, your hands sliding down the column of his neck, “you’re only for me.”

That hook you’ve lodged in him sinks deeper and he’s too far gone to care. The mystery behind your presence in his life is one he’s willing to spend the rest of his days unraveling so long as you stay right here, continuing to bewitch him with the beauty of your soul.

Your allure was more potent than any pheromone, more intoxicating than any aphrodisiac. In his waking moments, Logan found his thoughts drifting to you more often than not and the frequency between his visits grew shorter and shorter until he found himself lured into your embrace almost every night.

He was good at lying to himself, writing off these visits as nothing more than comfort—the need to find warmth in a world that so seldom offered him that luxury. But that lie grew bitter, warped in the liminal space between midnight and dawn where you stripped him down to his very bones, saw through the gruff and grit he wrapped himself in. Saw him as something more than the sum of his sins.

Logan couldn’t hide from you and he didn’t know if he wanted to. Those carefully crafted walls that surrounded him cracked and crumbled, turning to dust at his feet. In that mysterious way of yours, you always knew what he needed—a warm meal; your tender, healing touch as you helped him stitch the worst of his wounds; the soft, pliant feel of your skin on his as you kissed him deep, the kind of kiss that burned like wildfire and whiskey.

God help him as your gravity pulled him in closer, your orbits circling tighter and tighter, destined for an inevitable crash.

“What am I to you?”

Those five words root him where he stands, flaying him down to his very marrow. Logan should have expected this question, should have known that eventually you’d ask.

He wants to tell you the truth, speak those words that burn against his tongue, begging to be said.

He wants to tell you of his need to find you when the days are long and the nights are longer. When the weariness he feels in his bones aches more than usual and seems to bleed into his very soul.

When he needs to feel something more than the hollowness that seems to grow inside his chest. The slow carving away of his humanity that’s been scraping closer and closer to emptiness for years.

When he needs to be wrapped in warmth and set afire by something almost like love. Like home.

But he says none of this as he gazes over at you sitting at the kitchen table, one knee pulled up to your chest. You look small sitting there, vulnerable in a way he hasn’t seen before.

And instead, he remains silent, praying you’ll let the conversation slide. But he knows better.

You glance up at him, your gaze piercing straight through the heart of him and then you devastate him with three simple words.

“I love you.”

The air punches from his lungs and for a moment it feels like he’s forgotten how to breathe. Your words tear through him, cutting deeper than any knife, and his hands curl into fists as you slice him open.

“Don’t,” Logan rasps, his voice rough, barely more than whisper. He avoids your eyes, knowing that if he looks and sees the sincerity in your gaze, it’ll be his undoing. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” Your voice cracks with emotion as you push away from the table, your arms wrapping around yourself. “What about those words can’t you hear?”

His jaw clenches and for every step you take closer him, he takes a half step back, as if he’s trying to distance himself from the truth beginning to swirl between you. You can’t love him. Loving someone has brought him nothing but misery and pain, loss and suffering and he’ll be damned if he drags you down that road.

So, instead he lies, the words bitter in his mouth.

“This ain’t love, sweatheart,” he says, gesturing between the two of you, “This is fuckin’.”

You inhale sharply between your teeth and your expression twists into disbelief, the beginning of tears welling in your eyes. “Fucking?” you bite back, your voice trembling but still firm. “You think after all these months that this is just fucking?”

Logan doesn’t answer. And he doesn’t move. He simply stands there, jaw clenched so tightly he could shatter bones. He can’t say yes. If he does that, if he voices that lie into existence, he’ll have to spend the rest of his days remembering the look in your eyes right now—destroyed.

Your breath starts to shudder as you continue to step closer towards him. And he can feel you, warm and comforting, even though you shake with barely contained anger. “Look me in the eye and tell me that’s all this is,” you demand, your voice thick with emotion. “Tell me that when you come to me in the middle of the night, broken down, bloody and bruised, it’s just fucking. Tell me that when I touch you, hold you, love you, that it means nothing.”

He remain silent.

You let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “God, for someone with heightened senses, you’re blind to what’s right in front of you.” Your trembling voice matches the shake to your hands, your fury pouring off you in waves. “You really are a coward, aren’t you?”

Logan nostrils flare at the insult and he can feel the prickle of his claws between his knuckles. He knows his rage isn’t with you, but himself. And yet he can still feel his lips curl into a snarl. “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he growls.

“Oh, fuck you, Logan,” you seethe, your voice now raw, pain bleeding through every syllable. “You can’t even look me in the eye when you lie.”

His jaw clenches impossibly harder and he swears he can taste bone. Then, he finally meets your gaze head on, eyes flashing. “You think this ends well between us? You think I get to have somethin’ like this? Like you?” Logan’s voice cracks in a way that he loathes. “I can’t—”

The crack of your palm against his face is deafening. He barely moves from the impact, but emotionally you’ve landed him on his ass. Your eyes are wide as you stare up at him, unblinking.

Logan stands there, immobile, as he processes the sting of your slap. It doesn’t hurt, not physically. It’s the fact that you did it, the fact that you’re standing in front of him, chest heaving from the effort of your breathing as if you just ripped yourself open for him.

“Get out of my house,” you seethe, your voice softer than before, deflated.

Your words shouldn’t sting as much as they do. They shouldn’t wreck him and make him feel like he’s been ripped apart limb from limb. He should relish them, the push, the shove. He should revel in the confirmation that you’re finally seeing him for what he truly is—something undeserving of all the warmth and love you’ve given him. A stray animal that never should have been fed.

Logan swallows, his throat tight as he gives you a small nod. And then he does the only thing he knows how to do.

He turns. And he walks.

His legs feel like lead, each step a feat and his brain is screaming at him to turn around. To fight. To beg. To plead. To say something, anything.

But he doesn’t.

Logan exits the house, the front door slamming shut behind him. As he steps off the front step, the porch light above him clicks off, plunging the house into darkness. Your guiding light is gone, lost in the storm of his destruction.

Of all the wounds he’s ever taken, of all the scars that mar his skin, nothing has ever bled quite like this.

Charles watches with sharp eyes as Logan enters the old water tank and shuts the door behind him. The older man is in his wheelchair, tending to his plants as Logan walks around the place, picking up random bits of trash and the tray from breakfast.

A soft “tsk” falls from Charles’ lips and echos in the small space. “Will you ever learn, Logan?” Charles’ voice seems tired, weary.

Logan pauses and looks over at him, irritation already prickling along his skin. “Stay outta my head,” he snaps, slamming the tray down on a nearby table.

He doesn’t need this, doesn’t want Charles sifting through his mind, seeing those pieces of you he so deeply cherishes. Pieces he doesn’t deserve. Pieces he doesn’t know if he’ll ever have within his grasp again.

“She loves you,” Charles continues, seeming to ignore his request.

Logan strides over to where Charles is sitting, unable to keep the ire from boiling over. He wants to sweep all the plants to the floor, destroy the one creative outlet Charles has, retaliate for the way he presses into the fresh bruises on his mind. “I’m begging you, just—”

Charles lifts the spray bottle beside him and directs the spray in Logan’s face, showering him in a fine mist of water. Logan freezes, water dripping from his face as his lips tighten in a thin line. He grits his teeth, an ache already blooming in his jaw.

“What the fuck was that for?” he growls.

“Are you a cat?” Charles asks, lowering the bottle. “No? Then stop being such a pussy.”

Logan stares at Charles, the vulgarity of the of man’s words leaving him temporarily speechless. He scrubs a hand down his face, wiping the rest of the water off with the sleeve of his shirt, scowl deepening.

“You’re pushin’ it,” Logan warns.

Charles simply smirks, finally setting the bottle down on the table. “Someone should. God knows you won’t push yourself. Not when it comes to matters of the heart.”

Logan sucks in a sharp breath and steps back from Charles, sitting down on the bed across from him. The old metal springs groan beneath his weight. He wants a bottle of whiskey, to quiet the thoughts in his head, at least temporarily, and fall into a drunken stupor. Anything but flaying open his feelings, especially his feelings about you.

“What are you so afraid of?” Charles asks gently. “That she’ll see all your broken pieces?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Charles raises his eyebrow. “No? Logan, she’s already seen them. She knows what you are and she’s still here.”

“That’s not the point!” Logan roars, his voice echoing off the metal walls. His breathing comes out in short gasps and he knows he needs to rein himself in. Not only for himself but for Charles. It doesn’t take much to trigger a seizure these days and he doesn’t need the stress of this conversation to become a catalyst.

Charles remains quiet, expression calm and Logan hangs his head, his voice softening into something raw. “It’s not about what she knows. It’s about who, about what, I am. I don’t deserve her.”

Bracing his elbows on his legs, Charles leans forward, a sympathetic smile tugging at his lips. “She knows all that, Logan. And she chooses you. Every night you come to her, she chooses you. How can you not see that?”

Logan doesn’t respond, but the weight of Charles’ words hang heavy against his shoulders. He looks down at his hands, seeing the callouses and crisscrossing scars. His body is a physical map of violence, each faded pink line a story of pain, regret and death.

But you’ve never seen them that way. You’ve only ever looked at them with reverence, traced your fingertips along each one and wondered about their stories. Made him feel whole instead of broken and used.

“You have a choice to make, Logan,” Charles says, interrupting the silence. “Let her in…or keep running. Don’t make her choose for you.”

For days, Logan’s mind is plagued by replays of his last moments with you and his conversation with Charles. His already sleepless nights are further tormented by dreams of you, the devastated expression on your face haunting him.

The memory of your face, the crack in your usually steadfast voice, the tremor in your hand after you struck him. They all play in a nauseating loop in his brain, punishing him in a way he’s never felt before.

His life reverts to autopilot—drink, fight, drive, but nothing quells the gnawing ache in his chest. He couldn’t stay in the smelting plant with both Caliban and Charles staring at him, watching his every move as if he were a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. Charles was running out of medications, a few days supply left at most, and Logan knew he was better off leaving Charles in Caliban’s care than his own.

Now, he sits on the edge of a dingy motel bed, the scent of cheap whiskey and cigar smoke clinging to his clothes. His eyes are dry and heavy with exhaustion and his skin is itching with that familiar want to be near you. It started as an annoying tug, but has now grown into a maddening want.

He knows he should ignore it. But he was never that strong.

Before he can talk himself out of it, convince himself that this is an astronomically stupid fucking idea, he’s on his feet, keys in hand and driving down those lonely roads towards you.

It’s late when he reaches your house, like it usually is, and he half expects the porch light to remain dark, a cold, bleak reminder of how badly he’s fucked up. Instead, he finds that single porch light illuminated, shining like a beacon of hope. Logan walks up onto the porch, but you don’t open the door like you’ve done so many times before.

He contemplates leaving, turning around and getting back in the car and drinking himself into a semblance of sleep. But then he hears you, your heartbeat echoing beyond the wooden frame, as steady and as comforting as it’s always been. Logan pauses, wondering if he should try the knob and come inside—if you’ll even let him.

If you even should.

With a sigh, he lowers himself to the ground, his joints aching in protest as he rests his back against the door. “I’m not good at this,” he finally says, hoping you’re listening. “I’ve been alive for too long. Seen too much shit.” Logan pauses, his words burning in his throat. “I’ve lost too many people.”

He hears you shift behind him, your head thudding softly against the door as you listen. His relief is almost palpable knowing you’re there, that you’re at least willing to listen to him. Leaning back, Logan closes his eyes and exhales a heavy breath. “The only way I know how to keep people safe is to push ‘em away. And I need to keep you safe.”

The words feel foreign leaving his mouth, as if they’re uncovering a truth he’s long kept secret. He feels exposed in a way he’s not used to, raw and honest, and the truth of his words burns. Logan can still hear you on the other side of the door, your breathing slow and steady, yet laced with something—hesitation, maybe, or hurt. It makes his chest ache in a new and unfamiliar way.

“I’m tired,” he continues, his voice softer. “I’m so fuckin’ tired, sweetheart. Tired of fightin’ when all I want—” Logan swallows hard. “All I want is you.”

The porch light hums above him, the night is alive with the chirping of crickets, but the silence that follows is almost deafening.

Logan doesn’t deserve you, he knows that. You should turn him away, tell him to leave, to kick him back to the desert to lick his wounds alone. He doesn’t know how to be someone’s partner, their lover. He’s not sure if he ever has, really, too hung up on all the ways he paints himself as a bad man. Someone unworthy.

Except with you, he finds himself wanting to fight. To prove he’s not as hard and unyielding as the metal bones inside him. That somewhere deep inside him there still lingers warmth and affection and the capacity to love.

He’s bracing himself for the worst when he hears the faint sounds of the lock turning. The door creaks open and he shifts to look up at you. One of your well used blankets is wrapped around your shoulders, your hair tousled from sleep and your eyes are red and wet with unshed tears. Logan’s heart thuds heavily in his chest as you stand there and he turns to face you, pushing up onto his knees. Your expression is carefully masked, betraying little of your underlying emotions, and he carefully crawls forward, testing the waters of how close you’ll let him get.

His knees ache as he kneels on the hard concrete, but he’d crawl through glass if you asked him to. Slowly, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you to him as he nuzzles his face into the softness and warmth of your belly. Your comforting scent floods his senses as he waits for your anger, your rejection.

Instead, you sigh, a long pent up breath released in a steady exhale and your fingers sink into the disheveled hair at the nape of his neck, holding him close to you. “You’re an asshole,” you finally say, though your tone lacks any venom or spite.

Logan feels it then, the tension slowly easing from your body as you allow him to sink further into your frame. His heart lurches his chest, the faintest flicker of hope fluttering against his ribs.

“Yes,” he mumbles into your shirt.

“You hurt me.”

He pulls back as you gently push at his shoulders and sink down to the ground in front of him. But you don’t push him away any further and instead, lace your fingers through his. “I should tell you to fuck off,” you continue, your eyes focused on where you’re touching him. “But I can’t.”

His voice comes out in a whisper. “Why?”

Your eyes meet his and your gaze pierces straight through his soul. “You know why.”

And he does. In truth, he thinks he’s always known, long before you ever spoke those three little words out loud. Words so simple, yet so profound. Words he rarely speaks, while others casually toss them around. Words he has rarely felt, but with you feel as natural as breathing, as the sun rising in east.

Words he’s still afraid to say, despite everything, despite every cell in his body screaming at him.

You look at him like you know, because of course you do. You’ve always known him, in that uncanny way of yours since he first saw you standing in the rain. So instead of ire or disappointment at his lack of response, you simply squeeze his hand, grounding him to your reality.

“You don’t have to say it,” you whisper, your voice soft and steady. “Not yet.”

Logan looks at you, his brows furrowed. He can’t fathom what he’s done in this life to deserve you, your patience, your unwavering belief in him. “You make it hard not to,” he finally rasps, his voice rough and uneven. “Love you, I mean.”

The admission hangs heavy in the air, raw and jagged, much like him. It’s close to what you want to hear, but not quite. And yet he sees something warm and bright blossom on your face.

You lean in, raising your free hand to lightly trace the curve of his jaw, scratching at the scruff there. “You’re a man of action, Logan,” you say, pressing in closer, your breath mingling with his. “Wanna show me instead?”

This—this is a language he’s fluent in.

Using his lips, tongue, hands and cock to write on your body all the words he cannot say. He’s mastered your shape, the way your hips curve beneath his palm, the softness of your belly and breasts, the heat between your thighs stoked hotter only by him. He knows exactly where to press, where to nip and suck and tease to elicit all those pretty little moans and gasps of pleasure.

Logan’s already drawn one orgasm out of you, his fingers still thrusting against you as you ride out your high, your thighs shuddering against his forearm. You’re flushed and breathy as you reach for him, urging him up from between your thighs.

You pull him close, fingers sinking into his hair as you lick into his mouth, not caring that your slick still stains his beard and lingers against his tongue. He swallows your gasp as he knocks your knees apart and slots himself between your legs, his cock heavy against your belly.

He wants you. In all the ways he can think of and not just like this, naked and pliant beneath him. He wants your sleepily whispered hellos each morning and your softly murmured goodnights each evening. He wants the warm, weighty press of your body against his as you sit on the couch beside him sipping whiskey.

He wants, he wants, he wants.

As his kisses grow more fervent, you grow impatient and push at his chest, urging him back. “Lie back,” you command softly, your breath damp against his lips, “Let me take care of you.”

He wants to protest, deny you this request. This is supposed to be about you, about using his body to show you all the things his words can’t say. He’d spend the whole night between your thighs, using his mouth, tongue and fingers to worship if you’d let him. But there’s something in your gaze that forces him to comply and he gives in, rolling onto his back.

You straddle his thighs, your slick cunt sliding along the length of his cock. Logan groans and his hands reach for your hips, fingertips digging into your flesh as he encourages you to move. “This is s’pose to be about you,” he husks as you slowly begin to rock your hips back and forth.

“Oh, it is,” you answer, licking your lips as you brace your hands on his chest. “Who else can get you hard and needy beneath them?”

A low growl escapes from his throat. “No one.”

A wicked smile curls at your lips as you drag your heat along him, the blunt head of his cock nudging your clit with every slow, deliberate rock of your hips. The sensation has his control unraveling and he slides his hands along your thighs to palm the curve of your ass.

You press into his touch, continuing to roll your hips as you lean forward to press an open mouthed kiss to the corner of his jaw. “You see,” you murmur, “this is for me.”

Reaching between your bodies, you grasp him in your hand and line him up. Slowly, almost tortuously slow, you sink down on his cock, taking him inch by inch until he’s fully sheathed inside of you. A sharp inhale escapes him as your warm, tight walls surround him and Logan knows this feels different.

This isn’t merely fucking anymore, the melding of flesh for the pure sake of pleasure, of briefly escaping the nightmare of his life, of finding solace in sin. You’ve somehow managed to bleed yourself into him, to wrap yourself around his heart.

You feel as if you’re a part of him, lodged deep between his ribs and that if he were to try to remove you, he’d kill himself in the process. A part of him knows this feeling has always been there, back when you first entered his limo. The feeling threatens to choke him, to fill his love soaked lungs until all he can breathe is you.

He loves you.

Pure and unfiltered and it terrifies him.

“I—fuck, I,” he chokes out, the words caught in his throat. “I feel—”

Your hands run over his chest, up along his collarbones, your fingers blazing a trail over his skin. “I know, Logan,” you whisper, your hips rocking languidly against his.

He grips your thighs, almost tight enough to bruise, helping guide your movements, but also prove to himself you’re real. Logan’s chest heaves as he watches you ride him, your hips rocking harder, faster, dragging moans out of both of you. You lean back just enough to change the angle, driving him deeper and he bucks his hips, meeting your thrusts with a force that has you crying out his name.

And yet it’s not enough. He needs to wrap himself around you, twine his fingers through your hair and hold your mouth to his until he’s completely consumed you. His hands slide up your back towards your waist and he pulls you down against him, mouth hot and insistent against your neck as he continues to fuck up into you.

In one fluid motion, Logan grips your thighs and flips you onto your back, pinning you beneath him, cock still sheathed deep within your cunt. You arch beneath him as he sets a brutal, devastating pace, the raw intensity of his movements stealing short, gasps breaths from your lips with each thrust. A shiver ripples through you as he draws a nipple into his mouth, his name tumbling from you like a prayer.

“Fuck, there it is,” he growls. “I love all those little sounds you make.”

His choice of word isn’t lost on either of you and your eyes meet his as your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving faint red crescents as you cling to him. “Logan,” you gasp, your voice trembling as he hits that soft spot deep inside you. “More.”

“You want more?” he rasps, gripping your thighs and pulling them higher around his waist. The new angle has you crying out, the sound echoing in the room as he continues to slam into you with a force that has the bed creaking beneath you.

“Ah, fuck, yes,” you moan, your head tipping back.

Logan takes advantage of your offering, his lips and teeth marking a path down your neck, his beard scraping against your skin in a way that’s sure to leave a burn come the morning. There’s a possessiveness to his touch, a need to claim you, to prove to you that this is all he needs—your embrace, your warmth, your love.

“You’re so fuckin’ good to me,” he growls against your skin, his hand sliding down between your bodies and finding where you’re joined. He can feel himself pounding into you, your combined arousal coating his fingers as he finds your clit and begins to rub in tight circles. “So goddamn perfect. You were made for me, sweetheart, you know that?”

Your cunt flutters around him and he knows you’re close, your thrusts against him growing erratic. He feels his own impending release, but he needs you to come first, needs to feel you shatter against him. His fingers press more firmly against your clit and with a breathy moan, your body tenses, back arching off the bed as your orgasm crashes into you.

“That’s it,” Logan groans, his own thrusts faltering as he feels you tighten around him, pulling him in deeper. “Look at you, comin’ so pretty for me.” He slows just enough to prolong your release, his thrusts deliberate as he draws out every ounces of pleasure until you’re trembling beneath him.

It’s overwhelming—the sensation of you beneath him, around him; the cling of your fingers to his shoulders; the warm, damp breath against his neck; the absolute perfection of this moment right now. In all his years on this earth, he’s never experienced anything like this. The desire to completely consume someone, body and soul, and be consumed return. He wants his dying breath to be your name.

Something inside of Logan snaps, and as you try and catch your breath as you come down from your high, he presses your legs higher, folding you beneath him in a way that has his cock pressing deeper than before. The change has you whimpering and he looks down to find your expression as wrecked as he feels. He pauses his thrusts just long enough to grasp both your wrists and pin them above your head before he picks up his pace again, fucking into you with an almost ruthless intensity.

“I love you,” he growls, his thrusts growing erratic, his control quickly unraveling with every whimper and cry of his name. “God, I fucking love you.”

For a few moments, he doesn’t even realized what he’s said. Then he looks down at you, your gaze trained on his face and that soft, knowing smile of yours on your lips. “Logan,” you gasp, “I know. I’ve always known.”

Logan lets out a rough, shuddering breath, his entire body trembling with the weight of his confession. Any response he has dies in his throat as he presses his forehead to yours, his entire body wound tight. He’s so fucking close, can feel his orgasm coiling hot and tight in his gut, but it’s more than your warm heat drawing him in—it’s everything.

“Tell me,” he grits out, his hips chasing, chasing, chasing that release.

You lean up as much as you can with your hands still pinned above you and lick an open mouthed kiss against his lips. “I love you, Logan.”

And that’s all it takes. He groans into your mouth as he finally lets go, his body tensing as his release crashes into him. He spills himself deep inside you, shallowly thrusting into your cunt as his rhythm slows.

Logan releases your hands, and for a long moment, there’s only the sound of heavy breathing, of heartbeats slowing, the two of you tangled in the aftermath.

Logan’s restless and unable to sleep despite your smaller frame tucked alongside him, the weight of your head resting against his chest. From his periphery, he can see his phone illuminating with unread texts, no doubt from Caliban urging his return. Charles has been deteriorating faster than Logan cares to admit, his mind gone more often than not, raving about new mutants. He needs drugs faster than Logan can procure them.

His mind churns, the reality of the outside world looming closer and he contemplates slipping from your grasp when you shift, curling yourself further into him. You don’t speak, not yet, but he can tell you’re alert, floating somewhere in that space between sleep and full wakefulness. Your fingers start to move of their own accord, the gentle pressure of your fingertips tracing over an old scar along his ribs, mapping out an old battle he no longer remembers.

Beside him, his phone buzzes again and Logan sighs.

“Sounds important,” you murmur, voice thick with sleep.

He wants to keep ignoring it, stay wrapped in the quiet cocoon you’ve thrown around him, but Logan knows he can’t. It’s a cruel reminder of the chaos that plagues him beyond the sanctuary of your embrace.

“You can go to him, Logan,” you continue, fingers never stopping their slow path along his skin. “I know you’ll be back.”

“How,” he starts, licking his dry lips, “how do you always know?”

Logan’s asked versions of this question before. You’ve always brushed him off, given a coy answer and steered the conversation towards something else. For a moment, he thinks tonight will be the same.

But then you answer.

“I can feel you,” you answer softly, your breath warm and damp against his skin. “I just—” You pause and turn to look up at him and then disentangle yourself from his embrace. “Stand up,” you urge, nudging at his side until he complies.

He blinks at you in confusion, but you just smile at him, soft and sleepy, and gently cup the side of his face. “Now, close your eyes.”

Logan does as he’s told, chasing after your touch as you step back from him, settling somewhere beyond him on the bed. “I’m going to move and you tell me where I am.”

The soft rustle of bedsheets follows and then, stillness. You’re quiet, but he can sense you, just off to his right, but too far away to touch. “My right, but farther back in the room.”

You move again, keeping your movements light. Again, he pinpoints you, this time towards his left, closer, but still too far away to grasp. “Left.”

A final movement, this time even closer, your proximity flooding his senses, sending a rush of warmth down his spine. Logan reaches out, finding the curve of your hips, hands tucking underneath the shirt you had slipped on earlier in the night, splaying his palms against your back. He opens his eyes and meets your gaze, alive in the predawn glow.

“How did you know?” you ask, looping your arms around his neck.

Understanding dawns on him, the answer so simple, yet so profound. Pinpointing where you were had nothing to do with his heightened senses and everything to do with just you—the way you’ve molded yourself to him like a second skin. “I could feel you,” he answers. “I could—I just knew.”

You lean forward, pressing the lightest of kisses against the corner of his mouth. Logan sighs into your mouth, his eyes fluttering close as you press your forehead to his. “It’s like that,” you whisper. “This undeniable pull, an invisible string that connects me to you and it tug, tug, tugs, until…there you are.”

His phone continues to buzz, growing more insistent as the soft blues and grays of the morning bleed into more golden hues. With a reluctance you both feel, Logan peels himself away, finally answering the phone with an irritation he doesn’t bother hiding.

You watch him go, standing on the porch with the light casting a halo around your head. Your smile is gentle, but stained with worry and yet you remain stoic, the steady pillar holding up the fractured remains of his life.

As he drives away, he catches one last look at you in the rearview mirror and he’ll spend the next few months wishing he told you—he feels you too.

The last one hundred miles have dragged on for eons, the road before him stretching into an almost infinite distance. Logan finds himself darting his eyes towards the dashboard clock, growing increasingly frustrated when the numbers move only a few minutes at a time, the slow passage of time seeming to taunt him.

It’s been months since he saw you last, though no fault of his own. His memories are hazy—a swirling fog of confusion, pain and burning fever. He’s not even sure how he survived, whether it was modern medicine or sheer stubbornness. Or something more.

You believe in fate?

Your words echo in his mind, soft and sweet, and he feels a familiar pang of longing in his chest.

Fate or not, something kept a spark alive in him, pulsing through his veins with each sluggish beat as he slowly and painfully healed. His wounds are still pink and tender to the touch, more of his skin marred by death and destruction.

As he turns into your subdivision, the night quiet, a cold, creeping anxiety snakes along his spine. What if you’ve given up on him? Figured this last absence was the real deal, all his idle promises of staying away finally coming to fruition.

But as Logan drives down your street, he sees it—the single porch light illuminating in the night. Acting like the beacon it’s always been, leading him safely to land.

To you.

Logan pulls into the driveway and shifts the truck into park. Turning in his seat, he glances back towards the young girl curled up on the backseat. Laura’s face is relaxed in sleep, her hands tucked protectively under her chin. She fell asleep several hours ago, the soft rhythm of the tires against pavement lulling her to sleep.

Logan’s been many things in his life. Son, brother, fighter, friend. Lover. He never thought he’d add father to that list. While he can’t quite find it in him to call himself that just yet—even though Laura readily and easily calls him dad—he no longer denies the protectiveness he feels towards her.

Easing the door to the truck open, Logan steps out and gently shuts it behind him, loathe to disturb her just yet.

Here he is showing up at your door like he always has—late, quiet, and carrying a heavy weight he feels only he can shoulder. His hand is poised to knock, knuckles clenched, but he pauses, unsure if he even has the right to be here.

But then there you are, the front door opening to reveal your tired but relieved face, months of worry etched into your skin, your eyes already brimming with unshed tears.

“Logan,” you breathe, pulling him gently by the wrist and leading him inside. You don’t ask why he’s there. He suspects you already know.

The air inside the house is just as he remembers. Warm and inviting and laced with the faint, comforting smell of you. Logan inhales deeply, letting the scent settle somewhere in the parts of him that still feel alive, that thrum with the memory of your touch.

Your fingers still linger against his wrist and he can feel the heat radiating from your body, but you’re not close enough. And yet, he’s afraid to reach out, pull you into his arms. Afraid of the pity or obligation you’ll feel to comfort him, to allay all his fears.

As if reading his thoughts, you gently cup the side of his face, your nails scratching along his jaw. Logan flinches slightly, his body so used to pain these past months he’s almost forgotten the tenderness of your touch. But he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he closes his eyes, a ragged breath falling from his lips and his head dips forward.

“C’mere,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his waist.

For a moment, he doesn’t move, but then he slides his arms along your back, pulling you against him. You feel real and solid and alive pressed this close. Never one for overt physical touch, Logan’s surprised by how much he missed this—the simple act of just holding you. Burying his face in the crook of your neck, he inhales deeply, his breath warm and damp against your skin.

He doesn’t say anything, unsure where to even begin. The weight of his grief, his weariness, feels heavier than any burden he’s ever shouldered before and it’s almost desperate the way he clings to you. Like you’re the only thing tethering him to the earth. If you were to let go, he’d fall apart.

Logan doesn’t even realize he’s crying until he feels the hot trail of tears against his cheeks. You run your fingers through his hair, murmuring soft reassurances as you hold him.

“I couldn’t feel you, Logan,” you whisper into his neck. “Several days of just…nothing. I thought that—”

The words lodge themselves in your throat, but he knows what they are just the same.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, your eyes glistening with tears that match the ones rolling down his weathered face. Your expression is marred with pain, raw and unfiltered, but also with a bright flicker of relief.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, voice rough with emotion. “I got dragged into some bad fuckin’ shit. I almost…we—”

You quiet him with a soft brush of your fingers against his lips. “It’s okay, Logan,” you whisper. “Tell me about it later. I’m just happy you’re home.”

Home.

Logan gaze softens at your words, but guilt gnaws at him. He doesn’t deserve this—your unwavering faith in him, the patience you’ve shown him, the light you’ve been in his dark, endless nights. But here you are, giving him everything he’s never asked for but so desperately craved.

“C’mon,” you murmur, dragging him from his thoughts, “Let’s get you settled.”

It’s well past two in the morning by the time Logan finally carries Laura into the house, tucking her comfortably into the guest bedroom. Turning from the bed, he finds you there, leaning against the doorframe. You reach for him, in that soft, gentle way you always do, and lead him into your bedroom.

He doesn’t protest when you sit him down at the edge of the bed and begin undressing him. Kneeling before him, you unlace his boots and peel off his socks, setting them aside. With a slight press to his knees, you force his legs wider, slotting yourself between them.

Despite the late hour, the weariness and fatigue tugging at his bones, Logan feels his cock twitch as your fingers brush underneath the hem of his shirt.

It’s been so long since he’s felt you.

He dreamt of you, in those fevered moments where he didn’t know where one part of his body began or ended. When his entire existence had been boiled down to raw nerves and sluggishly knitting flesh. Through the haze of pain, he wondered if he’d ever feel your kiss again, feel the frantic press of your fingers into his shoulders, feel the warm, wet heat of your cunt stretching around him.

You toss the shirt aside and he can feel your gaze lingering over the new scars, the pink, raised lines of flesh that are still healing. With a reverence he’s not worthy of, you trace your fingertips along the three jagged scars from where X-24 had ripped into him.

“What happened to you?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper as you move to trace more of his scars.

Logan tells you then about Pierce and the Reavers, about Laura and the other mutant children. His throat grows tight as he continues, relaying the loss of Caliban, Charles and the Munsons, and the final confrontation between himself and his clone.

He tells you how Laura saved him. How her and the other children brought him to safety over the Canadian border. How he spent the next months fighting with every fiber of his being to knit himself whole.

For you.

You lean into him as he looks away, jaw tightening as he tries to shove down the memories of everything he’s lost. Your touch is light against his face as you trace the angle of his jaw, and reach up to press the lightest of kisses against his lips.

Logan exhales into your mouth as you kiss him again, soft and tender and warm. You seem to breathe him in, imbue life into his weary flesh and reignite the spark he’s kept alive for you.

He wants to do more—to pull you into his arms, to taste you, to fuck into you until he can’t breathe. But exhaustion pulls heavily on his bones, threatening to sink him.

Logan knows you can feel his hesitancy because you keep kissing him softly, punctuating each press of your lips with whispered reassurance. Your fingers card through his hair as you lean back. “Just let me hold you?”

Your voice cracks at your request and Logan can only nod, unable to deny you. You help him shuffle out of his pants before coaxing him further into the bed. He moves slowly and he knows you don’t miss the creaking of his joints, the soft groan of discomfort.

Coming to rest on his side, you tuck into him, throwing a leg over his hips and pulling him close. He sighs into your touch, the weight of the last few months pressing just a little bit less as you press a kiss to the hollow of his throat.

“Don’t leave me,” you whisper into his skin, soft and damp.

Logan feels his heart clench at your words. He’s hurt you. He knows that. Not just inadvertently with his most recent disappearance, but all the other times, too. Those times when he ran, afraid of what your words and touch meant. Afraid to accept what you’ve always so freely given.

His hand slips under the hem of your shirt, fingers splaying across your back. “You kept the light on,” he husks, unable to keep the break out of his voice.”

Your lips quirk into a soft smile. “I always will, Logan.”

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