#i just love these two more than ive ever loved anyone before

[abyssalpriest]

God I could and should write a whole fucking book by the end of this life here on Lev and his symbols

ill write it then burn it before anyone else gets a copy. or i wont. im supposed to be helping him this incarnation here to get a better anchor in this plane so maybe it would help more than itd be weird - im just getting from him the energy of "yeah no people already effectively have these things, people on my plane already know me inside and out to an extensive degree, may as well have it here too" you know. fair

[thorninyourpaw]

muting them isn't enough i need them to get blackout drunk and text me an 8 paragraph apology and wake up the next day as brokenhearted as i have been since october

[wheeboo]

to love and be loved | jeon wonwoo

SYNOPSIS. in which wonwoo tells you about his first (and only) love. PAIRING. jeon wonwoo x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers WARNINGS. self-doubt talk on reader's end, self-indulgent wooweee, this was painfully hard to write lmao n have no idea if any of this makes sense WORD COUNT. 1.6k

requested from anon: Hiiiiiiii first of all congratssss for you 2k. For the event, ive been thinking the same exact story with wonwoo and #6 from list 3 - #6: “You’re not hard to love, nor are you unlovable. You just… Need to let me in, and let me show you you’re just as worthy of love as anyone else is.”

notes: i'd quite literally do anything to have these kinds of talks with wonwoo ☹️☹️. anyway i hope u all enjoy this <3 hits close to home >< tysm anon hehe <3

join the 2k celebration!

"Hey, uh, Wonwoo?"

"Mhm?"

"...have you ever been in love?"

A cricket chirps into the evening air right after you ask, and you suddenly feeling like you're holding in a long-winded breath. Then you hear a loud crunch by Wonwoo from the crackers he was snacking on, and you blink up to him wiping away the corner of his mouth. There's the slightest glimpse of a curve to his lips that you manage to catch.

He silently offers you a cracker in your direction, the anticipating silence between the two of you growing thickly. You take the cracker from his hand, muttering a quiet thanks, before nibbling on it absentmindedly.

The night is absolutely beautiful right now, swearing that you could spot and make out the constellations above if you squinted hard enough. The distant chirping of crickets is the only sound that breaks the silence as the coolness of the night rolls in, carrying with it slight breeze that whispers through the leaves overhead the balcony of your apartment.

"I have."

You swiftly turn your head to him, eyes widening intriguingly. "You have?"

The chuckle that leaves him is somewhat awkward, a tad bit hesitant. He crumples up the bag of crackers and sets it aside, chugging down the last sips of his drink and setting down the empty can as well.

"Did you... ever confess to them?" You ask, suddenly feeling curious, though there's a bit of disappointment at the tip of your tongue.

You swear you could see the thoughts swirling around his head. Wonwoo keeps his eyes fixed up to the night sky. There's a distant look in his eyes, as though he's peering into some past moment that only he can see, before he shakes his head, a faint smile crossing over his lips.

"No, I didn't," he answers calmly. "They were too far away, so... I just chose to admire them at a distance."

You lean back against the wall behind, your shoulder momentarily brushing against his. "Did they know you?"

Wonwoo purses his lips together. "Mhm."

"Well, you missed your chance!" You exclaim, prodding him playfully with your elbow. "I can't believe you let them get away, dude. Like right through the little cracks of your fingers. You could've been in a relationship by now."

This earns you a low, playful scoff from Wonwoo. "Are you assuming that they loved me back?"

Immediately, you feel the heat crawl up your neck and to the tips your ears.

"Well, um... Yeah, I am," You admit sheepishly, letting out a small sigh. "I mean, who wouldn't fall for a guy like you? You're nice and... charming. I think anyone would be lucky to be loved by you."

There's a silence that falls between the two of you, one simply more than just comfortable yet denser than ever, because the thought of being loved by Wonwoo seems to linger longer than you notice. You steal a glance at him, seeing his face still turned upwards towards the night sky and the moonlight reflecting on his glasses. Strands of his dark hair blow across his forehead in the breeze. You can't quite decipher his expression, but a flicker of something𑁋perhaps surprise, maybe even amusement𑁋dances on his features for a brief moment.

He finally turns back to you, a small, hesitant smile playing on his lips. "You think so?"

"Yeah," You confirm, nodding lightly. "Absolutely."

Wonwoo still keeps his eyes on you as you glance away, seeing the way you fidget with your hands in your lap and smoothing out the creases in your pants nervously. He glances down at his own hand and back at yours, lips pursing together in contemplation, but only folds his fingers back together the second you reach over him to grab the crumpled-up bag of crackers. He feels a little bit too warm in his sweater right now.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

A crunch echoes through the air. Then another. And another.

"I've just been kinda... thinking a lot lately, I guess," You reply slowly, quietly. "And it sort of makes me sound desperate in a way, but there are times I just wonder if, um... if anyone has ever felt the same way about me."

Wonwoo tilts his head slightly. "Love?"

"Not just love, but... seeing me, you know?" Being able to talk about this out loud makes your chest feel heavy. "Since it's hard these days to find someone who sees you for who you are, not for who you can be. I... I just feel like I'm hard to love sometimes. Hell, maybe even unlovable. It’s hard to break out of that mindset when things get hard again.”

A thoughtful quietness seeps through the nighttime breeze, which sends goosebumps up and down your skin, but you don't mind it because you know that Wonwoo is listening either way. And the more you think about it𑁋the thought of knowing that he's here, with his presence is right next to you𑁋it seems to comfort you more than you notice.

There's a small hum of acknowledgement that you hear from his end, unsure if it's just your imagination or if he's actually responding as your mind feels a little jumbled up right now. But then Wonwoo shifts beside you, his arm lightly pressing against yours.

"But I... I think I've reached a point in time where I can say I love myself a little more than a few years ago, or last year, or even just yesterday," You continue to ramble a bit aimlessly, chuckling dryly to yourself. "It’d be nice to share that with someone too, you know? To finally get over this loneliness. But it's not entirely a sad loneliness or a happy one. It's, like, uh... both put together, I guess."

A few moments of silence pass. You feel Wonwoo gently nudge your leg with his.

"I'm proud of you."

You peer up to look at him, mind nearly going blank from the way he's gazing at you. Or maybe it's just the moonlight that's making him appear so... picturesque. "What for?"

"For loving yourself, silly," Wonwoo muses almost cheekily, and the delighted tone that you catch makes your stomach leap. "Even if it's just by a small percentage than yesterday, it's still okay. You're doing good. I want you to know that."

You're doing good. It's just those three singular words that has heat forming in your eyes that you somehow manage to blink back before anything could spill, and hearing it come from Wonwoo feels different. There's a vulnerable sweetness to them, a sincerity that catches you off-guard. You force a smile𑁋a grateful one, nonetheless𑁋before it shifts into a frown.

And Wonwoo catches it right away. "What's wrong?"

Your lips form a thin line, pressing together in thought. You refuse to acknowledge why you think your heart feels slightly... jealous.

"I hope whoever you loved before knows how lucky they are one day," You say to him. "if you're still in love with them, that is..."

Wonwoo stills for a minute, pensively. "I am."

"You are?"

"I never stopped."

You stare at him for a few moments, an eyebrow lifted in disbelief at him, before crossing your arms together and letting out a small, incredulous laugh. "Then you should've said that you're in love with them, idiot."

Wonwoo sucks in a breath.

"I'm in love with you."

You blink instinctively, once, twice, three times, momentarily thinking that Wonwoo's presence might somehow disappear into thin air. But he's still there𑁋a certain softness in the way he's looking at you, a gentleness that seems to wrap around you like a warm embrace𑁋waiting for you. His words suspend heavily in the air, and maybe the world is also holding its breath just as you are too.

"And... You're not hard to love, nor are you unlovable. You're far from that," Wonwoo continues, voice tender, fond, and soft as a lullaby. "You just... need to let me in, and let me show you you're just as worthy of love as anyone else is."

You could only sit merely frozen at this point, throat tightened and jaw dropped in shock among many other weird, fuzzy feelings happening throughout your body. Something between relief and disbelief. Hope and hesitancy. Comfort and uncertainty. You have the capacity to run yet you choose not to𑁋you're letting him in, letting the warmth of his words seep into the cracks of your doubt.

Your mind reels dizzily, almost like the world has been tilting away off-balance.

"You... You're in love with me?" You repeat, almost dumbly, because you cannot seem to fathom anything that's been said in the past few moments. "All that talk about earlier... about who you..."

Wonwoo hangs his head down low, rubbing at his neck in a bashful manner. "It was about you."

"And you never... you never told me?"

"Honestly, I'd like to think a part of it was you being a tad bit oblivious." And then he just simply grins, his nose crinkling along with it. "But that's okay. Watching you slowly figure yourself out made me realise that maybe I needed to find myself a little more too."

You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, and you could feel the heat of embarrassment spreading painfully throughout your face. At first, you have the urge to brush it all away as a silly misunderstanding. Maybe laugh it off, retreat back inside, and go to sleep pretending all of this didn't happen. But the sincerity in his eyes stops you.

You lick your dry lips, the cool night air beginning to feel a lot less suffocating.

"Did you?" You ask vaguely, before shaking your head repeating, "Did you... find yourself?"

Wonwoo lets his eyes roam over you, taking you in, before leaning back on the wall and bringing his gaze back up toward the night sky. Your eyes refuse to leave him, and perhaps this is what it's like to admire someone from afar and close up all at once.

The two of you take a deep, deliberate exhale together.

"Yeah," he answers, smiling softly. "I think I found myself right where I want to be."

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[cloudcountry]

ok so obviously leona fic, did we ever expect anything else, recently ive been thinking a lot about childhood friends aus with leona so how about that as a trope. THANKS POOKIE THIS EVENT KICK STARTED A MASSIVE LEONA RAMBLING FOR ME SO EVEN IF I DIDNT WIN THIS WOULDA BEEN AWESOME <33

2ND PRIZE WINNER, LOSER

— CHILDHOOD FRIENDS WITH LEONA KINGSCHOLAR (1117 words)

please note that the expressions of love in his this fic are platonic, but can be read as romantic pining if you wish!

Leona’s ears twitch as your footsteps echo down the halls, coming right up to his door before stopping. His tail starts swishing, almost absentmindedly, but the happiness he feels about you visiting is not absentminded in the slightest.

“Leona!” you whisper yell, cracking the door open as sneakily as your clumsy hands can, “Psst, Leona!”

He smirks, blatantly ignoring you. He hopes the swishing of his tail seems lazy, not happy. Overjoyed, even. Leona knows you won’t mind when you find him out—you’ve always been just weird enough to find him fun to be around and his attitude charming. He wishes more of the palace staff were like you.

“I know you can hear me, goofball!” you whisper louder, sliding into his room through the open door, shutting it softly behind you.

“Huh?” Leona drawls, turning around in his chair, “I thought that was a fly. You sure do a lot of buzzing for a herbivore.”

You purse your lips and pout at him, looking more amused than livid. Your acting always sucked, but he doesn’t tell you that in fear of you swatting at him and whacking his tail again.

It’s sensitive.

“The kitchen is empty. We could totally go in there and grab snacks.” you say, and the pout melts off your face like butter on a saucepan, “You’ve been studying all day, you haven’t had any time for me!”

Leona huffs, tail gently smacking against your cheek. You yowl dramatically and rub your cheek like he punched you, glaring at him with the smallest of smiles on your lips. You’ve always been that blunt with him, saying exactly what's on your mind even though you get scolded for it again and again. You’re the only one in this wretched place who doesn’t bow to him every time you see him, or hold your tongue every time you have an idea. You speak freely, happily, and Leona is thankful to have been with you since the two of you were in diapers.

Even if the gap between you would never be bridged.

After all, a person of your position should not talk that way to royalty, even though he’ll never be anything but a prince.

You drag him out of his thoughts and consequently, out of his room, glancing around the halls to check and see if anyone is there. Leona rolls his eyes but the action holds no malice, not when you grab his hand and yank him down the hallway, giggling quietly as if you’re about to steal cookies from the cookie jar.

Which, considering your destination, may just be your scheme.

Leona doesn’t get soft often, he doesn't get that heart-thumping loving feeling, but when he looks at you, that changes. He loves you, he knows that much. You’re his only friend in this suffocating palace, where he shoulders the burden of being the second born with every step he takes. But with you, his best friend, his only friend, he starts to feel like he’s plain old Leona.

Nothing more, nothing less.

It’s so easy to sneak around with you, even if you are a bit clumsier than he is. And sure, maybe it’s because he purposefully trips you on his tail (only for you to whisper that you thought his tail was too sensitive for that with mock anger in your tone) but that’s nothing you can prove.

Over the course of your childhood, there are plenty more of those moments. You and Leona both grow, even though sometimes you wish you could stay kids forever. It isn’t easy watching him mold to fit his role, watching the usual easygoing smirk he has on his face morph into a constant snarl and frown.

You think you’re the only one in the palace who sees him as Leona anymore.

It isn’t long before he receives an offer to go to a school called Night Raven, which he considers with careful attentiveness. You hesitantly watch from afar, not wanting him to leave you behind but also knowing deep down he’d be so much happier if he did.

Soon enough (too soon), you’re helping him pack his suitcases.

You hug him goodbye, face buried in his clothes, squeezing him tight. He promises to call you every night in a voice only you can hear, gruff and reassuring.

Of course, he has to add a jab about you looking like a puppy without its owner so he doesn’t seem too soft. You just blink back tears and agree with a choked up laugh. His expression goes soft once more, and you take it in like you’ll never see him again.

Once he boards, you watch his carriage until it disappears and there’s no one left watching beside you.

Leona keeps his promise and calls every night, telling you about the upperclassmen and how he got sorted into Savanaclaw, to no one’s surprise. You speculate which dorm you’d be put in if you were to go to Leona’s school, and he tells you “soft hearted herbivores like you would end up in Octavinelle or something like that.”

He sounds like he’s having fun. You’re glad.

There’s a small part of you that toys with the idea of going to NRC yourself—training  your magic to the point of being one of those exceptional mages the Head Mage seeks out. It’s not like you’ll never see Leona, he’s taken the necessary measures to ensure that you can visit campus whenever you please (oh, how he spoils you so) but it’s different. Things aren’t the same anymore and you know they never will be.

(That doesn’t stop you from training in secret. Leona always put everything he had into himself, so why wouldn’t you do the same?)

You don’t bat an eye when the carriage arrives again, standing stationary outside the palace. If anything, you figure it’s Leona coming back for some sort of official business, or at least that’s what you thought before the palace staff starts to whisper your name.

Your luggage, much like Leona’s exactly one year ago, is crammed into the entryway of the palace before you know it.

You’re in a daze the whole trip, painfully aware that you’re sixteen now, going to Night Raven College, you’re growing up more and more and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

But there’s also excitement, laced with a fair share of anxiety.

You’re going to see Leona again.

And this time, you two will be equals.

It’s the most difficult thing, composing yourself before you’re sorted by the mirror. It’s even more difficult keeping your head straight and not whirling around the room, looking for a pair of green eyes and a lazy, flicking tail. It’s even more difficult not to acknowledge the thrill that jolts through you when your name is called, knowing that Leona heard it, wherever he is in the room.

“Soft hearted herbivores like you would end up in Octavinelle.”

You hope, wherever you end up, you can be close to him like always.

-> leona's napping buddies . . . @vivigoesinsane @dove-da-birb

[simpjaes]

CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT TELLING BOYFRIEND JAY YOU HAVE NO PANTIES ON AMD CONTINUING CONVERSING LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED PLEASE

warnings: they're in church lmfao, jay malfunctions, finger fucking, car stuff, jay is a needy dominate motherfucker fr

wc: 1.1k

note: ive decided anything over 1.5k will be posted separately from the ask. i still consider this a drabble lol

The words resonate in his brain, bouncing off every image and thought he had previously to you saying that to him. It's like he malfunctions before reacting, his entire body excited by the mere suggestion. "I'm not wearing panties." You had whispered right up against him through an innocent hug. So casually, with a voice so calm and balanced to him. Your tone was no different than when you'd tell him "I missed you" in a hug when you go to his house. Then again, it's not like the tone really matters. It's the words, the suggestion behind them. Given the fact that the two of you are in a place where it's considered highly inappropriate for his body to be acting this way. You manage to make it more inappropriate that you didn't wear panties in the first place.

The two of you are rarely ever found at church but on the rare occasion, your parents ask for you to be there. In turn, you always drag your boyfriend with you to save you from the long and boring few hours needing to be spent there. So, yeah, it's safe to say that the way Jay reacts is expected considering he can't actually react the way he wants or needs to right now. You did it to tease, to be cheeky and make him suffer even more. He can tell by the way you smirk, acting as if that hug you just gave him was nothing more and absolutely didn't involve dirty talk. He watches how you ignore his hungry gaze now, continuing a conversation with your parents and great aunt. He's supposed to be involved in this topic but instead he's too busy knowing that if he simply slips his hand up your dress, he could slide right in. 

You’re so…defiant, and all of it reminds him why he loves being with you. Always sweet, always beautiful, always fucking loving it when he’s suffering not only because of you, but for you.

And you continue to tease him through the event. You’re well aware that he’s in his head about it, considering he’s always ready to please and always unintentionally horny around you. You enjoy that about him though, because it lets you fuck with him in a place like this. 

Watching him suffer is funny, usually, because you know at some point he’s gonna break and absolutely break you along with him. But right now? You’ve never done this to him in a space where he couldn’t escape or lose his composure. 

It’s not funny now. It’s hot. 

Even the slightest grip of your hand on his bicep makes him release a small, frustrated sigh. Anyone else would think that sound is just him catching his breath, or perhaps pondering what heaven would be like for him. But you know what that sound is. You hear it most often against your neck or between your legs. 

A frustrated sound that tells you clearly how frustrated Jay becomes knowing he can’t devour you whole and keep you forever. A needy sound that somehow comes from the dominance within him to worship and praise every inch of your body with his mouth, hands, cock–

“Jay–” You whisper again, noting his stiffened body as he pushes through various hugs from people definitely wearing underwear. “What’re you gonna do to me?”

The way the remaining blood in his head rushes to his cock right then and there, snapping his eyes to you just as you pull away from him to give a half-assed hug to the pastor’s wife. The event is coming to a close and he can fucking see how excited you are to find out. 

He stares at you knowingly, looking you up and down, with the way you wore a dress far too short for this event anyway. Your mother commented on when she saw you, she even apologized to him for your blatant disrespect or something. 

Your mother may be against you flaunting your body, but Jay knew from the moment he saw you that you did it for him. To occupy him. To apologize for dragging him here with you. 

Only to fuck him up by telling him your pussy is literally out for him too, and now?! You want to know what he’s going to do to you?

Oh, baby. Just you wait. 

The final five minutes of the event feel like they lasted twice as long as the services, but eventually you find yourself in Jay’s car again. You knew he wouldn’t make it out of the parking lot, truly. 

The moment he gets into his car, his hand shoots straight between your legs as if he needed proof. Somehow, the force of his hand shocks you. He’s not gentle, he’s needy, forceful. You can tell by the way he lets out a breathy groan finding you not only naked under this dress, but dripping too. 

Jay can’t help himself. He slips two fingers in automatically, moaning at the pleasure he knows he intends to give to you. 

“You wanna know what I’m gonna do to you?” He finally asks, tucking his fingers deep in you before using the other hand to maneuver out of the parking lot. 

You note the speed of which he backs out and drives away, yet the stillness and pressure of his fingers still show the same eager need. 

“Mhm–” You nod, blinking at him innocently all while spreading your legs like the whore you know you want to be for him. 

Jay side eyes you at that, keeping his eyes on the road but feeling the clench of your needy pussy. He doesn’t need to look at you to know what sort of sly expression you’re throwing at him. You know what you did, and you know what you’re gonna get for it too. 

“I think you know exactly what I’m going to do.”

And while the two of you do make it back to Jay’s house, you don’t quite make it out of the garage and into the living room at the very least. His bedroom is out of the question, just a couple of feet too far, and a couple of seconds too long to wait by now. 

You’re not shocked to find yourself fucked open and making a mess from his fingers alone after a mere three minutes of him turning his car off, and he’s not shocked that you’re dripping all over him when he pulls his cock out and plants you directly on it without so much as opening his car door. 

He leans his seat back with ease, knowing you’ll have the control in this instance but he doesn’t mind. He’s not going to be done with you quite yet anyway.

You both know it.

[mingi-s-dimples]

Dear Diary... - San

~"Hi love hope you’re doing well✨ Ive read your San kitten fic and I enjoyed it 😀tremendously 🔥. Now If it’s ok with you (I couldn’t find it in your blog that if you’re ok with this kink or nah) to write [cnc+ dirty talk and corruption kink]with San?? And if not cnc anything that comes from authority figures of him. Pls plssss ignore this if it’s makes you uncomfortable ❤️🍓" ~ queen I haven't written cnc corruption kink in my life. I hope I got the idea, even the slightest 😞.

pairing: san x fem!reader

genre: 18+

summary: san read your little journal.. and that ends with you screaming his name.

wc: 5.6k

warnings: dom!san, big dick!san, he eats her out, dirty talk, some cnc + corruption kink (he kinda softly makes her submit to it when he reads her diary + he doesn't care that she's a virgin and he actually encourages it even more so i guess it works? i'm so sorry i never wrote corruption kink before i promise i'll do better 😞💖), she's a virgin, neck holding and softly choking, marking all over, mamhandling, vaginal sex, he doesn't fuck he pounds, multiple orgasms, she screams out his name duh, some crumb of aftercare, cockwarming, unprotected (she's supposedly on bc but booo use protection!), unedited might edit later, for sure forgot something, completely consensual (after he makes her submit to him!)

Author's Note: woahhhh I haven't wrote in a while ngl. Felt good to be back.. sorry for not posting 😞. Life updates: Had 3 exams and I almost failed one but upsies it's maths 💀, had a bf for 3 days cause he acted weird and he said I'm his everything and that he loves me and that he can't be without me and I was like brotha ew we've been tgt for 3 days... and he got offended and unfollowed me everywhere 💀 boys these days... (i sound like a 70yo granma). Anyways I hope I'll post way more these days! There are only two exams to go, one this Friday and one this Saturday (for tutoring!) so I'll disappear again until Saturday night 🧍‍♀️ but I'll post on Sunday ! everyone cheer pls. Love youuuuuu allll

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way.

The rich scent of steak still lingered in the air, mingling with the faint remnants of laughter and conversation from earlier in the evening. Your small apartment felt quieter now, with only the faint hum of the fridge and the occasional clink of San’s beer bottle against the counter breaking the silence.

The others had left hours ago, leaving just you and him—like it so often did. You couldn’t even remember how it had started, the unspoken rule that San always stuck around longer than anyone else, as if this place belonged to him as much as it did to you.

“You’re really not going to let those dishes wait until tomorrow, are you?” he asked, leaning against the kitchen counter with a smirk. The casual authority in his tone was infuriatingly familiar, yet somehow impossible to ignore.

You glanced at him over your shoulder, rolling your eyes as you stacked the last plate. “And let me guess—you’re going to stand there, drinking your beer, and not help.”

“Exactly.” His grin widened, infuriating and so utterly *him.* “I’ve got my role down. Yours is to overachieve and keep pretending you don’t have OCD about cleaning up after people.”

“I do not—” you started, only to cut yourself off with a sigh. There was no winning with San.

Instead, you gave him a look, grabbed the last of the plates, and disappeared down the hall toward the bathroom. “Try not to break anything while I’m gone,” you called back over your shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” he drawled. “I’ll keep myself entertained.”

San watched you go, waiting until the sound of the bathroom door clicking shut echoed faintly down the hallway. Then his attention drifted lazily around the room.

Your apartment was familiar in a way that made it feel like a second home—organized chaos, with books, mismatched blankets, and stray notebooks scattered across every available surface. It was the kind of place that felt lived-in, every corner a reflection of your mind: half-stressed, half-dreaming.

It was a notebook on the coffee table that caught his eye.

It wasn’t hidden, exactly. Half-tucked under a glossy magazine, its leather cover gleamed faintly in the low light. The word *Private* was written neatly across the front in a handwriting he’d recognize anywhere—yours.

A slow grin spread across his face. “Private, huh?” he murmured, setting his beer down and reaching for the notebook.

He flipped it open, expecting to find the usual: to-do lists, random doodles, or the same kind of perfectly planned schedules you’d been making since grade school. But instead, his eyes landed on something else.

*Sometimes I wonder what it would feel like to lose control completely. To have someone take charge and make me do things I’d never admit I want. Things I’d never say out loud...*

San froze, his grin fading as his eyes skimmed over the words. The meaning hit him slowly, like a low-burning flame that spread heat through his chest and settled somewhere.. lower.

*...to be pinned down, held in place, unable to fight back but not really wanting to. To have someone whisper filthy things in my ear and tell me how much they love seeing me fall apart under their control...*

He swallowed hard, his grip on the notebook tightening as he kept reading. The words painted vivid pictures in his mind—images he’d never dared associate with you before, no matter how many times his teasing had drifted close to the edge.

But this was different. This wasn’t teasing. This was your handwriting, your fantasies laid bare on the pages in front of him.

And the worst—or maybe the best—part? He couldn’t stop reading.

The sound of the bathroom door opening snapped him out of it. He quickly snapped the notebook shut, placing it back on the coffee table just as you stepped into the room.

When your eyes landed on him, standing far too close to the coffee table, your expression immediately shifted. Suspicion flickered across your face, followed by alarm as you spotted the notebook.

“No,” you breathed, your voice almost a whisper. “San... Tell me you didn’t.”

He arched a brow, leaning casually against the arm of the couch as if nothing had happened. “Didn’t what?”

Your stomach twisted. “You didn’t read that, did you?”

He shrugged, the corner of his mouth curving into a smirk. “You left it out in plain sight, sweetheart. Hard not to be curious.”

“San!” Your voice rose in a mix of panic and mortification as you rushed over, snatching the notebook off the table. You clutched it to your chest, your cheeks burning so hot you could feel the heat spreading to your neck.

He watched you with infuriating calm, his dark eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite name. “Relax,” he said, his tone deceptively soothing. “It’s not like I read the whole thing.”

Your heart sank. “What... what did you read?”

San pushed off the couch and stepped closer, closing the space between you with deliberate ease. He stopped just inches away, towering over you in that way that always made you feel small—and not entirely in a bad way.

“Enough to know you’ve got some... interesting thoughts rattling around in that head of yours,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Care to explain?”

You shook your head, mortified. “No. Absolutely not. You shouldn’t have—”

“Shouldn’t have what?” he interrupted, his tone sharpening just slightly. “Picked it up? Read it? Or are you just embarrassed that I know now?”

You glared at him, though your resolve was already wavering. “This isn’t funny, San.”

His smirk faded, replaced by something darker, more serious. “Who said I’m joking?”

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Maybe it’s time someone gave you what you’ve been asking for.”

The room felt too small, the air too thick. Your lips parted, but no sound came out. You couldn’t bring yourself to say the word, even though you knew you should.

San’s smirk returned, slow and deliberate.

“Mhm-” he murmured, his voice heavy with unspoken intent.

His gaze lingered on you, sharp and assessing, as if he could see through every feeble defense you were trying to put up. The notebook still clutched against your chest felt like a useless shield, doing nothing to block the heat of his presence or the weight of his words.

“Not going to tell me to stop?” he asked, the challenge clear in his tone. “Guess that means you don’t want me to.”

You swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest. “This is not funny, San,” you whispered, though even you could hear the lack of conviction in your voice.

“Funny? Not even a little.” He stepped closer, his eyes glinting with something darker. “But it is fascinating. You, scribbling all those dirty thoughts down like a good little secret-keeper, acting all innocent around me—who would’ve guessed?”

“Stop,” you said, the word trembling as it left your lips.

“Why?” His brow arched in amusement, though his voice remained low and intent. ���Does it make you uncomfortable? Or is it hitting a little too close to home?”

Before you could answer—or even think of a response—he reached out, plucking the notebook from your hands with maddening ease.

“San!” you exclaimed, reaching for it, but he held it out of reach, his grin never faltering.

“Let’s see,” he said, flipping it open again as your heart dropped into your stomach. “Ah, here it is... *I want to be taken—rough, merciless, made to feel like I can’t get enough.*” He glanced at you, his smirk widening at the audible hitch in your breath. “Quite the vivid imagination you’ve got there, sweetheart.”

“Give it back!” you said, your voice cracking.

“Why?” He shifted the notebook to his other hand, holding it out of reach. “Are you scared because I know how badly you want this?”

Your knees felt weak as he stepped closer, invading your space with the kind of confidence that left you feeling unmoored.

“You’re such an ass,” you muttered, trying and failing to glare at him.

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug, his grin sharpening. “But at least I’m honest. You? Not so much.”

San’s free hand brushed against your jaw, his touch light but firm, sending a shiver down your spine.

“You’re blushing,” he observed, his voice teasing but softer. “Is it embarrassment? Ouu, is it.. something else?”

“San,” you said, his name coming out more like a plea than a protest.

“What?” he asked, tilting his head as his thumb traced along your jawline. “Can’t take the heat?”

You shook your head, but you didn’t pull away. You couldn’t.

He chuckled, low and satisfied. “Thought so.”

Without warning, his hand slid to the back of your neck, his grip firm as he pulled you closer. His other hand dropped the notebook onto the couch, freeing him to let his fingers trail down your arm, light enough to make you shiver.

“You know what I think?” he murmured, his voice dropping to a husky murmur.

You shook your head, your breath uneven.

“I think you’ve been waiting for someone to see past all that sweet, good-girl bullshit,” he continued, his thumb brushing along the line of your jaw, “and call you what you really are.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs, the words lodging in your throat. “San...”

His grip on your neck tightened slightly, enough to make you gasp. “What’s wrong? Don’t like hearing it? Or do you like it too much?”

The way your thighs pressed together didn’t escape his notice, and his grin sharpened.

“You’re easy to read,” he said softly, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You’ve been wanting this for a while, haven’t you?”

Your lips parted, a faint whimper escaping before you could stop it.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his fingers slipping lower to trace the curve of your waist. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Your breath hitched as his lips hovered near yours, the air between you crackling with tension. He didn’t kiss you, but the sheer proximity left you trembling.

“You can tell me to stop,” he said again, his voice rough but steady. “One word, sweetheart, and I’ll walk away.”

You opened your mouth, but the words wouldn’t come.

San’s grin returned, slower and more deliberate. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

His free hand skimmed the bare skin above your waistband, teasing and slow, and you felt your knees buckle slightly.

“You’ve been waiting for someone to push you,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “to see how far you’ll let them go. Haven’t you?”

You couldn’t answer, your breath coming in shallow gasps.

San leaned back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes searching yours. “Say the word,” he said quietly. “And I’ll stop.”

Your silence said everything, and his lips curved into a smirk.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, his voice low and full of promise.

His free hand skimmed the bare skin above your waistband, teasing and slow, and you felt your knees buckle slightly.

Before you could process his words, his hands were on you again—fast, firm, deliberate. His grip was steady as he lifted you effortlessly, as though you weighed nothing at all. A gasp escaped you, your hands instinctively clutching his shoulders, but the smirk never left his face.

“You wrote about this, didn’t you?” San teased, his voice dripping with amusement as he carried you across the room. “Right there in your little journal. I had no idea you had such... vivid thoughts.”

He dropped you on the bed. San stood at the edge of it, arms crossed, his dark eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and control. You were there, sprawled across the mattress, your chest heaving from the tension that hung heavy between you. The heat of your earlier argument still simmered in the air, but now the power had shifted entirely into his hands—and you both knew it.

“You’ve been quiet ever since,” San murmured, his voice low and mocking as he stepped closer, each movement slow and deliberate. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? Not so bold now that I know what’s been running through that pretty little head of yours?”

Your gaze darted away, heat creeping up your neck, but San wasn’t having it. He climbed onto the bed in one smooth motion, his weight sinking the mattress as he caged you beneath him. One hand pressed into the sheets beside your head, while the other traced the curve of your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“Don’t even think about hiding from me now,” he said softly, the mockery in his tone laced with undeniable command. “Not after everything you wrote. Not after you left me to read between the lines of those fantasies you scribbled down so... shamelessly.”

Your breath hitched, and you pressed your thighs together instinctively, which only made his smirk widen.

“I have to admit,” he continued, leaning closer until his lips were brushing the shell of your ear, “I didn’t know you could be *this* filthy. Wanting to be manhandled? Thrown around? Tamed?” His breath was warm against your skin, his tone both teasing and heavy with promise. “Tell me, did you ever imagine I’d actually do it?”

“I-..” You shuddered beneath him, your fingers curling into the sheets as you struggled to form a response. But San was relentless, his hand trailing down to your throat, his grip firm but not restricting as he tilted your head up toward him.

“Don’t play dumb now,” he whispered, his gaze locking with yours. “You knew exactly what you were doing when you left that journal out. When you wrote about how badly you wanted someone to take control. To leave you breathless, shaking… *ruined.*”

You swallowed hard, the air between you thick with tension, and he chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you.

“Admit it,” he murmured, his lips brushing your jawline, his hand still firm on your throat. “Admit that you’ve been waiting for me to push you like this. That you wanted me to see *every* word of it.”

“I—” your voice faltered, trembling under the weight of his intensity. “Mh..mhm” you were only able to mumble some word.

His fingers loosened just enough to stroke the column of your neck. “Good girl.”

He leaned back just slightly, enough to drink in the sight of you beneath him, flushed and trembling. His grin was wicked as he reached for your wrists, pinning them above your head with a grip that left no room for resistance.

“Now,” he murmured, lowering himself until his lips hovered mere inches from yours, “let’s see if you’re ready to live up to everything you wrote, sweetheart.”

Your head tilted back against the mattress, and the tension in the room thickened until it was nearly suffocating. The way San hovered above you, all sharp grins and teasing touches, had you trembling with anticipation. But as his words replayed in your mind, something inside you snapped.

“Fuck it,” you muttered, your voice shaky but certain. “You’ve already read it. You know exactly what I want.”

San’s brow arched, his smirk sharpening as he leaned in closer, his nose brushing yours. “Oh? And what’s that, sweetheart?”

You swallowed hard, your pulse hammering in your ears. “You. All of you. No teasing, no holding back.” Your voice softened, almost a whisper now. “Please.”

San let out a low chuckle, his dark gaze flickering with amusement and something darker—something primal. “You’re begging now?” he mused, his tone rich with satisfaction. “Didn’t think I’d get to hear that so soon.”

“I’m serious,” you said, your breath hitching as his thumb brushed your jawline. “No going back now. Just—just fuck me, San.”

His grin widened, and for a moment, he just stared at you, as though savoring the sight of you so vulnerable beneath him. Then, with deliberate ease, he sat back and tugged his shirt over his head in one swift motion, the fabric landing somewhere behind him.

You couldn’t help it; your eyes roamed over his toned chest, the sharp lines of muscle catching the dim light. Your breath caught, and he didn’t miss the way your eyes roamed.

“Like what you see?” he teased, his voice dripping with confidence as he reached for the hem of your shirt. He didn’t wait for an answer, peeling the fabric off your body just as effortlessly. His gaze swept over you, slow and deliberate, and you shivered under the intensity of it.

“Perfect,” he murmured, almost to himself, before his hands moved to your waistband. His fingers made quick work of the button and zipper, sliding your pants down your legs with maddening precision.

But then he stopped.

Stepping back, he straightened to his full height, his hands already moving to unbuckle his own belt. The metallic clink of it sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away as he worked.

He was slow—so agonizingly slow—pulling the leather free and tossing it aside before unbuttoning his pants. The sharp sound of his zipper being undone felt deafening in the charged silence, and the deliberate pace had your heart racing.

“Enjoying the show?” he asked, his voice smug as he slid the denim down his hips, revealing inch after inch of skin.

You didn’t answer, too captivated by the sight of him to form a coherent thought. Your gaze locked onto him, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, and you could feel the heat pooling low in your stomach as desire overtook every part of you.

“Thought so,” he murmured, stepping closer, his smirk never fading. “You just can’t get enough, can you?”

You shook your head, your lips parting slightly as you stared up at him with nothing but raw, unfiltered lust. “Not even close.”

His laugh was deep, rumbling, and utterly intoxicating. “Good,” he said simply, lowering himself back onto the bed, his body hovering over yours. “Because I’m just getting started.”

San crawled over you with the precision of a predator closing in on its prey, his movements slow and deliberate, his gaze locked onto yours. His weight pressed into the mattress, pinning you in place as he leaned in, his lips hovering over yours, teasing but not yet giving.

One of his hands wrapped firmly around your neck, the pressure just enough to remind you who was in control. The way his thumb brushed against the side of your throat made your breath hitch, a soft gasp escaping you as your body instinctively arched toward him.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “Already falling apart, and I haven’t even kissed you yet.”

His other hand was down around his cock, his movements slow, lazy, and unhurried as he stroked himself. The subtle motion made your mouth go dry, your gaze flickering downward for a split second before snapping back up to meet his. The heat in his eyes was unbearable, and yet you couldn’t look away, couldn’t stop the way your body responded to the tension crackling between you.

San smirked at your reaction, his thumb pressing slightly harder against your neck as he brought his lips closer, brushing them lightly against yours. It wasn’t a kiss—not really—but the sensation was enough to send a jolt of electricity straight through you.

Then, just as you started to lean up, desperate for more, the hand from his cock moved. Slowly, almost torturously, he trailed it from himself to your thigh. His fingers brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine, before he hooked his hand under your leg and spread it out beneath him.

“Perfect,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp as his palm pressed against the inside of your knee, holding you open with deliberate ease. “Just like I imagined.”

You swallowed hard, your breath catching as he leaned in closer, his lips finally crashing against yours. The kiss was searing, hungry, and consuming, his hand still firm on your throat as he claimed you completely. Your mind was spinning, your body surrendering to the heat of him, to the way he dominated every inch of your senses.

His grip on your neck tightened slightly, grounding you as his thumb brushed along the curve of your jaw. The other hand remained on your leg, his thumb stroking lazy circles on your skin as he shifted his weight, pressing himself closer.

“You’re mine now,” he muttered against your lips, his voice rough and commanding. “No running, no hiding. I’m going to make sure you don’t forget it.”

Your only response was a soft whimper, your hands reaching for him, desperate to pull him closer. And San, ever the tease, chuckled low in his throat, his lips moving to your jaw as he whispered, “Good girl.”

As San’s lips devoured yours, leaving you breathless and pliant beneath him, a quiet confession slipped out before you could stop it.

“I’ve never done this before,” you whispered, your voice trembling and almost lost in the heat of the moment.

San stilled for just a second, his head tilting slightly as he looked down at you, processing your words. The smirk that crept onto his lips was slow and deliberate, a mix of surprise and amusement lighting up his dark eyes.

“You’re a virgin?” he asked, his tone low, curious, and laced with disbelief. “After everything you wrote in that journal?”

Your cheeks burned, and you couldn’t meet his gaze, but you nodded, swallowing hard. “I... I just—”

He didn’t let you finish. His grip on your neck remained firm as his free hand slid up your thigh again, spreading you out even further beneath him. “So what?” he murmured, leaning in close, his breath warm against your ear. “You think that changes anything?”

Your heart pounded as his lips brushed against the shell of your ear, his voice taking on a deeper, more commanding edge. “You want this, don’t you?”

You nodded quickly, unable to form words, and his smirk deepened.

“Good,” he said softly, almost mockingly. “Then I’ll make sure your first time is something you’ll *never* forget.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. His lips crashed against yours again, hungry and consuming, stealing the breath from your lungs. His kisses grew rougher, more possessive, as though he was claiming you in every sense of the word.

When he finally pulled away, your chest was heaving, your lips swollen, and he wasted no time. His mouth trailed down the curve of your jaw, leaving open-mouthed kisses that turned into light nips. His tongue soothed each bite, sending shivers down your spine as he moved lower, down the column of your throat.

“You’re mine now,” he murmured against your skin, his voice dark and dripping with authority. “You understand that, don’t you?”

“Y-yes,” you whispered, your voice trembling with both nervousness and desire.

His kisses continued, his teeth grazing over the soft curve of your collarbone before he bit down gently, just enough to make you gasp. The sharpness of it sent a jolt through your body, and you arched into him, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

“Such a good girl,” he muttered, the praise making your stomach flip as he moved lower. His lips and teeth marked a path down your body, every kiss, every bite leaving a faint bloom of heat behind. He was methodical, deliberate, as though he wanted to cover every inch of your skin.

When he reached your hips, his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them further apart as he settled himself between them. His lips ghosted over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, his breath warm and teasing.

“Right here,” he murmured, his voice dark with promise as his fingers gripped your leg firmly, keeping you pinned in place. “This is where you’re going to feel me the most. Where I’m going to leave my mark.”

You gasped softly, and before you could respond, his teeth sank into the tender skin of your inner thigh, hard enough to sting but not enough to hurt. The sensation was intoxicating, his tongue soothing the bite immediately after, and the combination left you trembling beneath him.

San pulled back slightly, his lips curving into a satisfied smirk as he looked up at you. “You’re already shaking,” he teased, his hands gripping your hips to hold you steady. “You’re going to fall apart for me, sweetheart. And you’re going to love every second of it.”

Your hands instinctively found their way to his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands as he hovered over your inner thighs, his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin. The way he teased you—his lips brushing so close but never where you wanted them—had your body trembling with anticipation.

San chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as he tilted his head up to look at you. His smirk was infuriatingly smug, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement.

“Impatient, huh?” he drawled, his voice low and teasing as he gave your thigh a gentle squeeze. “Can’t wait to have me, can you?”

You whimpered softly, your grip on his hair tightening just enough to pull a satisfied laugh from him.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he murmured, his tone darkening as he settled himself between your legs. “I won’t make you wait any longer. Let’s see how loud I can make you.”

And with that, he dove in.

His lips pressed against your clit, hot and unrelenting, and a sharp gasp escaped your lips as your back arched off the mattress. The first touch of his tongue was slow and deliberate, a languid stroke that left you breathless.

San wasted no time after that, his mouth working against it with a precision that had your head spinning. His hands gripped your thighs, keeping you pinned in place as he devoured you, his tongue flicking and swirling in ways that sent shivers racing down your spine.

“You taste so good,” he murmured against you, his voice muffled but still thick with satisfaction. “Even better than I imagined.”

You couldn’t respond—not with the way he was overwhelming your senses, reducing you to gasps and whimpers as he found every sensitive spot. Your hands tightened in his hair, and he groaned at the pressure, the vibrations only adding to the fire building inside you.

San pulled back just enough to press a kiss against your inner thigh, his lips swollen and glistening. “Don’t hold back,” he murmured, his voice rough and commanding. “I want to hear everything. Every moan, every gasp—let me hear how much you need me.”

And then he was back, his mouth and tongue relentless as he brought you closer and closer to the edge, his grip on your thighs tightening as your body started to tremble beneath him. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but surrender completely to the way he consumed you, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

Your body trembled beneath him, the overwhelming waves of pleasure crashing through you as you cried out his name, your hands still tangled in his hair. San didn’t stop until your body went slack against the mattress, leaving you breathless, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

But he wasn’t done—not even close.

“Look at you,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to survey the sight of you sprawled beneath him, still shaking from the aftermath. His voice was low, rough, and dripping with satisfaction. “So pretty when you fall apart for me.”

Before you could respond, San moved with the kind of precision that left no room for resistance. His hands gripped your hips firmly, flipping you over onto your stomach in one fluid motion. A startled gasp escaped you, but it was quickly muffled as he pressed your face into the mattress, one hand splayed across the back of your neck, holding you in place.

“Don’t think we’re done yet,” he growled, his voice dark and commanding as he leaned over you. The heat of his bare chest against your back sent shivers down your spine, and you felt him press his hips into you, letting you feel just how ready he was.

Your heart raced as his free hand slid down your side, gripping your waist possessively. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “I hope you’re ready, sweetheart, because I’m not holding back… at all.”

His teeth grazed your earlobe, and you whimpered softly, your body arching instinctively beneath him. His voice dropped lower, the words sending a thrill through you as he murmured, “You’re mine now. Every inch of you. And I’m going to make sure you *feel* it.”

The blunt heat of him pressed against your cunt, and before you could even brace yourself, he pushed into you in one smooth, unrelenting motion. The stretch burned, but the pleasure quickly overwhelmed it, and you cried out, muffled against the mattress as he filled you completely.

San groaned low in his throat, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulled back slightly, only to slam back in with a force that made your entire body jolt. “Perfect,” he muttered, his voice rough and thick with lust as he set a relentless pace. “You feel even better than I imagined.”

The sound of skin against skin filled the room, each thrust drawing gasps and moans from you that only seemed to spur him on. He leaned over you, pressing his chest to your back as he buried himself deeper, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Take it,” he growled, his voice dripping with authority. “Every. Fucking. Inch.”

Your head spun, your senses overwhelmed by the rough, unyielding way he moved against you. His hand slid from your hip to your throat, pulling you up slightly so he could press his lips to your shoulder, his teeth sinking into your skin to leave yet another mark.

“You’re mine,” he muttered again, his voice ragged as his thrusts grew even harder, each one sending shockwaves through your body. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

“I-I'm yours..! ,” you gasped, your voice trembling as you clung to the sheets, completely lost in him.

“Good girl.. or should I say..” he murmured, his grip tightening as he drove you both closer and closer to the edge, his pace never faltering, never giving you a moment to catch your breath, “good slut?”.

His words made your cunt tighten around him, a grunt escaping his throat.

San’s pace didn’t let up for a moment, his grip firm on your waist as he powerfully ounded into you, every thrust driving you closer to another earth-shattering release. Your body trembled beneath him, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all, and he could feel the way you tightened around him, your breaths coming in ragged gasps.

“That’s it,” he growled against your ear, his voice rough and commanding as he reached one hand between your legs, his fingers finding the spot that made you jolt… your swollen clit. “Give me one more, sweetheart. Come for me again. Let me feel you.”

The combination of his relentless thrusts and the way his fingers worked you had you teetering on the edge in seconds. Your cries grew louder, the tension coiling in your stomach until it finally snapped, a powerful wave of pleasure crashing through you as you screamed his name.

“San!” you sobbed, your body shaking violently as your orgasm ripped through you, leaving you breathless and trembling beneath him.

He groaned low in his throat, his thrusts growing erratic as he chased his own. “That’s my girl,” he muttered, his grip tightening as he buried himself deep inside you, his hips stuttering as he reached his peak.

A guttural moan escaped his lips as he spilled into you, the warmth of his cum filling you completely. He didn’t pull out right away, instead leaning over you, his chest pressing against your back as he kissed your shoulder, his breath hot and uneven.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your damp skin. “You took me so well, sweetheart. Screaming my name like that... you’re so fucking perfect.”

You whimpered softly, still trembling from the aftershocks, and he smirked, his voice dropping to a darker, dirtier tone. “Bet you loved having me ruin you like this. Didn’t you, baby? All that talk about wanting to be manhandled—looks like you got exactly what you wanted.”

Before you could respond, his hand slid to your neck, gripping you firmly as he pulled you upright, your back pressing against his chest. The move made you gasp, your head falling back against his shoulder as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze, his cock still deep inside you.

“That’s what you get for leaving your little journal unattended,” he growled, his smirk sharp and satisfied as he stared into your eyes. “I bet you loved every fucking second of it. Didn’t you?”

Your lips trembled, but you managed a breathless, “Y-yes… y-es I did..”

San’s grin widened, and he leaned in to press a lingering kiss to your temple, his grip on your neck softening as his free hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice softer now but still carrying that edge of dominance.

He held you there for a moment, his arms wrapped tightly around you, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re mine,” he whispered, his tone gentler now, though no less possessive. “Every inch of you.”

Your hands came up to rest over his, your body leaning into his embrace as you whispered, “Always yours.”

San let out a satisfied hum, holding you close as the heat of the moment began to fade, replaced by a warmth that felt just as overwhelming. “That’s my girl,” he said softly, his lips pressing against your hair as he held you, his arms never loosening.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

[idkdudethisisntpermanent]

Over the Limit-pt.vi

jenna ortega x female reader

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi

summary: Sibling fights, pool parties, and drunk college kids. What could go wrong?

word count: 11.4k

warnings: drinking, mentions of drug use, implications of sexual assault (does not happen)

a/n: My plans for this chapter changed a lot from any q&a’s I’ve answered….Thank you for being patient! Hope you enjoy😌 If anyone is in LA or has loved ones there I hope you’re all safe 💜

————

“So what’s his name?”

Hunter turns to you with a raised brow, “Are we really doing this?”

After Aliyah’s suggestion—that was more an order to go to UCLA, you found yourself driving to the acclaimed university. You check the rear view mirror and confirm that the two sisters are knocked out (as it’s now 9pm) before you answer Hunter.

“Well yeah? You know about my Viper situation brewing back there,” you roll your eyes with a laugh quoting his exact words from earlier. “Come onnn!” you whine.

“Oh so you do admit there’s a situation,” Hunter fires back, clearly trying to regain the upper hand. But you hold your ground, unfazed by his teasing—a skill you’ve definitely honed over the course of this road trip. He groans but you can see the blush creeping on his face at the mention of his forbidden lover. “Fine his name is Fielder.”

“Hmm weird name. So you guys dating or is it just sex?” you say getting straight to the point.

“Dude!”

“What! I saw the toothbrush in your bathroom,” you smile. “I’m happy for you man. If you want to be with him or whatever.”

“I-I don’t know," he hesitates. "I really like him, but he’s a Viper and you know what that means."

You glance at him, then take one hand off the wheel to give his shoulder a firm squeeze. “Time to take your own advice, buddy,” you say, your voice steady. “Remember what you told me back then?

‘That’s half the thrill.’

‘When have you ever avoided doing something just because it’s not allowed?’

Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten your own words of wisdom.”

Hunter exhales, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, yeah, I remember,” he mumbles, but you can see the gears turning in his head.

"Dating is different when you get older," he shares after a moment of silence. "You don't really want to mess around with the forbidden just for the fuck of it. It's like the real deal now," he sighs. "Have your fun while you can, because it doesn't last forever."

You take a moment to really absorb Hunter's words. Was he implying that Jenna was just a phase in your life? Something forbidden you were testing out for the thrill of it? You’re almost certain he didn’t mean it that way, but you hate that he planted the thought in your head. Because you knew for a fact that you never saw Jenna as a fleeting moment. An act of rebellion or someone to mess around with.

The thought shakes you, and the weight of your emotions for the girl asleep in the backseat begins to sink in. It terrifies you—realizing just how much she truly means to you.

You weren’t in the mood for a deep, philosophical conversation right now, so you deflected with some light banter instead. “You’re not that much older than me, what—four, five years tops?”

“Eight,” Hunter deadpans, followed by a dry laugh. “And here I am, heading to a college town to party like I’m still eighteen,” he mutters, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

"Whoa party? Who said anything about partying?" you ask confused.

"Come on, you can't expect us to go to UCLA for the weekend—mind you exam season just finished. And you don't want us to party?"

"There is possibly a drug cartel hunting us down...and you want to party?"

"Yup," he answers, popping the P with an unbothered grin.

————

"Please tell me we're there," Aliyah yawns, stretching her arms out above her. "I can't stand another moment in this car."

"Technically it's an SUV," you mutter under your breath, earning a tired glare from the backseat. "But yeah, we’re almost there. Where am I headed?"

"Hold on let me text Markus real quick."

Again with that name. Before you could flip your mind over wondering who this guy was, you hear Jenna stir in the backseat, her voice groggy as she asked Aliyah, "how long was I out?"

Okay new obsession: Jenna's tired voice. It made your heart do a little flip.

Hunter looks over at you and he rolls his eyes. Why you still deny the fact that you have feelings for this girl is beyond him. He wanted to smack you across the face and ask you if you thought it was normal to get worked up over someone's sleepy voice. It was evident in the way your eyebrows jumped and the stupid smile on your lips. You obviously had feelings for the girl and everyone but you and Jenna could see it.

"Okay Y/n go to 350 De Neve drive," Aliyah shares upon getting the address.

You still had no idea where you were going, but you give a nod to Hunter to put in the address the girl gave.

Finally, not being able to stand it anymore, you ask the question that's been annoying you for the last two hours. "Who's Markus?"

“Our brother,” Jenna answers, glancing up at the rearview mirror where your eyes have been lingering throughout the whole drive.

Her sleepy voice almost distracted you from what she just said. Oh. That explains a lot. Silly old you getting jealous over nothing. Markus was their damn brother. You smile and nod. "Ahh okay, I see."

"What's with the smile Y/l/n?" Hunter teases you, knowing exactly why.

You don't respond and shoot him a side eye. "So is this a younger or older brother?"

"He's my twin," Aliyah mumbles, her attention stolen by something on her phone.

That didn't answer your question. But you still decide to engage in some small talk with Jenna just because you can, and totally not because you wanted to hear more of her tired voice.

"So are you the youngest Jenna?"

This time, Aliyah takes her eyes off her phone and bursts out laughing.

"Pffft—please! I’m dead!" she howls, clearly finding your question hilarious.

"Am I the youngest?" Jenna bites back, her tired voice now laced with a touch of sass. The combination is absolutely killer, and for a split second, you forget how to breathe. But your brain catches up quickly, and you realize you might have more pressing issues to worry about.

"Have you thought all this time that Aliyah is older than me?" she adds, her eyes narrowing playfully at the rearview mirror.

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. “Wait, what? I—uhh—well, yeah, kind of?” You try to backpedal, feeling your face flush slightly. "I mean, she seems older."

Aliyah bursts into laughter again, practically doubling over in the back seat. "Oh my god, I can't believe you thought that! You really think I'm the older one?"

Jenna shakes her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Nope. I’m their older sister."

Your eyes widen, and you glance over at Jenna, who looks far too small to be the older sibling. “But… you’re so tiny?” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

Jenna raises an eyebrow, her tired eyes turning into what you think is an amused glare. "Excuse me? Tiny?"

You instantly regret your words, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “I mean, you’re just… small compared to Aliyah! I thought she was the older one.”

It was now Hunter's turn to place a hand on your shoulder. "Please shut up before she starts ignoring you again."

————

“Marki-poo!” Aliyah coos running towards a guy that stood quite taller than her with dark hair.

It was around half past nine when you all finally arrived at what you now learned to be Markus’ dorm building.

While the sisters reunited with their brother, you and Hunter climbed out of the SUV that was parked on the road, both of you stretching to shake off the stiffness of hours on the freeway. The cool night air was refreshing, but your attention quickly drifted to Markus. As your eyes flicked toward him, you froze mid-stretch.

Holy shit. He was the spitting image of Jenna. Same piercing eyes, same sharp jawline, and even a similar smile. It was uncanny, and for a moment, you felt like the universe was playing some cosmic joke, doubling down on how much one family could mess with your head.

Before you could ruminate further, Markus noticed you and Hunter lingering by the SUV and waved. His grin widened as he called out, “Hey! You must be Y/n and Hunter. Aliyah and Jenna wouldn’t shut up about you guys over text.”

Aliyah rolled her eyes, while Jenna shot him a wide glare.

You blinked, caught off guard by his friendly tone. “Uh, yeah, that’s us,” you replied, trying to sound casual as you walked over.

“I bet you must love the freedom being away from home," Jenna asks out of the blue while she gazes around the campus mindlessly soaking everything in.

Her voice drew your gaze like a magnet, and for a split second, you forgot anyone else was there.

What was going on with you? Why was her voice making you feel all strange? It wasn't like this before, and even if it was you were at least able to hide it.

Hunter cleared his throat, clearly enjoying your inability to stay cool around Jenna.

“So, what’s the plan?” Hunter asked, breaking the tension.

Markus gestured toward the dorm building. “I’ve got room for all of you to crash if you’re staying the night. It’s a bit of a squeeze, but it beats sleeping in the car.”

Aliyah clapped her hands together, grinning. “Perfect! Let’s get inside. I need to pee, and I’m not doing it in some random gas station bathroom.”

As everyone started heading toward the entrance with their packed bags, Jenna fell into step beside you. Her shoulder brushed yours, and even though it was likely unintentional, it sent your heart racing.

“Thanks for bringing us here,” she said quietly, her voice soft but sincere. “I know this whole trip is a lot. But we haven’t seen Markus in forever.”

You glanced at her, momentarily caught off guard by the genuine gratitude in her tone. “It not that bad,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “Besides, it’s not like I had much of a choice.”

Jenna smirked, the corners of her lips tugging upward in a way that made your chest tighten. “Fair enough.”

As the group disappeared through the dorm’s entrance, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this night was far from over—and that Markus wasn’t the only surprise waiting for you at UCLA.

————

"We need to set them up."

The group makes their trek to Markus' dorm, with the twins up at front, Hunter following in the middle, and Jenna and you walking side by side in the back.

Aliyah decides that she needs to take the reigns for this weekend and enlist her brother's help for something that needs to be done.

"Jenna and Y/n?" He asks, turning back to look at you both.

"—Don't look at them!" she snaps slapping her brother on the arm. "You can't make it obvious."

Markus just looks at her dumbfounded.

“Those two are so into each other, it’s painful to watch. They need to just make out already or something! I’m losing my mind over here.”

“Make out?” Markus repeats, his voice incredulous.

“Yes! Or, like, hold hands—anything! I’m sick of the constant eye-fucking!” she whisper-yells, gesturing dramatically.

“Eye-fucking?”

“Yes, Markus, eye-fucking!” Aliyah says, her tone exasperated as if explaining basic math to a toddler. “Now, what can we do to speed this along? How do college kids even date these days?”

"Uhm I don't know...they meet in class, ask for their snap, or they meet at parties—"

"That's it!" Aliyah shrieks in excitement before she quickly clasps her hand over her mouth, worried she was too loud. "Please tell me there's a party going on tonight?"

"Tonight?" Markus whispers back. "Come on sis, don't you think we should let them relax or something? We can figure this out tomorrow."

"Tonight Markus." She repeats sternly. Markus knew better than to defy his persistent sister. He sighs, "Yeah I know of one."

"Perfect!”

————

"Absolutely the fuck not Aliyah! Are you crazy?!"

The group finally made it to the dorm in one piece, and much to your relief, the tuition prices definitely matched the size of the dorms. It seemed like there was enough space for all five of you, and the best part? Markus had no roommate. Score.

After Aliyah rushes in to use the bathroom, you follow suit, eager to freshen up. You can hear a bit of commotion from the room—the sounds of people getting settled in, and some oddly loud talking—but you think nothing of it. That is, until you step out of the bathroom to the unmistakable sound of shouting.

You freeze.

Jenna and Aliyah are going at it, voices raised and words flying in a heated argument. Whatever was happening, it was definitely not a friendly sibling exchange.

"Oh my god," the younger sister drawls, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's just a party, why not?"

You remain at the door, not daring to take a step forward. Your eyes turn to Jenna, waiting for her response. Her eyebrow twitches and she suddenly smiles, but there's no humour behind it. "Why not?"

"Why not, Aliyah?" she responds, her voice dangerously calm. "Why not?"

She takes a step forward, her tone growing colder, sharper.

"Just because—"

Just because what?" Jenna interrupts. "Just because I’m the one who had to step up and pull you out of that mess?"

You notice Aliyah's deameanour slightly falter. Her lips slightly frowning.

"You think I like this shit? You wanna make the same mistakes again, just because you want to go to some stupid college party!" Jenna continues.

You, Markus, and Hunter exchange nervous glances, unsure of when to intervene without getting caught in the crossfire.

"I didn’t ask you to do that for me!" Aliyah finally gets out, her voice rising with defiance.

Jenna’s expression hardens, her words cutting through the air like a knife.

"Yeah, you’re right. You didn’t. But Dad did," Jenna spits the words out, her voice growing more heated with every syllable. "And I had no choice but to put my life on hold and pick up the pieces of your mess. So don’t act like it’s nothing. Don’t you dare act like I’m overreacting, Aliyah. You think I want to keep doing this? You think I want to keep cleaning up after you?"

Holy shit, how much did you miss while in the bathroom? Everything was fine just a few moments ago, how things escalated so fast baffled you.

"Fuck you," Aliyah spits out, her voice trembling as her glossy eyes reflect the anger and hurt beneath the surface. She storms past you, brushing your shoulder, and disappears out of the dorm room before anyone can stop her.

As you’re left standing awkwardly near the door, your eyes instinctively flick to Jenna, who’s still fuming, her chest rising and falling with each sharp breath. She looks like she’s barely holding it together.

But before you can even think about what to do, you notice Hunter and Markus already moving toward her. Hunter places a tentative hand on Jenna’s shoulder, his voice soft as he tries to calm her down. Markus, standing nearby, looks just as lost for words but ready to step in if needed.

Your gaze lingers on Jenna for a moment longer, watching the tension in her jaw and the way she refuses to let her emotions fully break through. Part of you wants to stay, to say something, to comfort her—but it’s clear she’s not alone. Hunter and Markus are already there for her.

The decision was obvious. With a deep breath, you step out into the hallway, following after Aliyah.

You can still hear the muffled voices of Hunter and Markus trying to talk Jenna down as you close the door behind you, leaving the tension of the dorm room behind. But even as you head down the hall, your mind keeps replaying Jenna’s words, the raw emotion in her voice, and the hurt etched into Aliyah’s face.

You sigh, shaking your head. This weekend’s already off to one hell of a start.

————

"Holy shit Aliyah! Slow down would you!" you shout after her as you see her enter the elevator.

You barely make it in time before the doors shut and you're panting while the girl remains silent, as you both wait for the elevator to reach the ground floor.

Neither of you say anything. She walks on the side walk away from the building and you follow a step behind her. There were other students out at this time, it wasn't too late—only around 10pm now. After some more aimless walking she finally plops down on a bench under a streetlight.

You linger for a moment before cautiously sitting down beside her, keeping a bit of space between you. She says nothing, and for a while, you both just sit there, the faint buzz of campus life in the background.

Finally, you break the silence. "Aliyah… you okay?"

She scoffs, wiping at her eyes quickly. "Do I look okay?" Her voice is sharp, but there’s no real venom behind it.

You don’t answer right away, watching her instead. "No," you admit softly. "You don’t. But… do you want to talk about it?"

You hear her sniffle and you turn to face her. She's wiping her eyes now with a sad smile on her face. "I don't even know why I'm crying, she's not wrong you know?"

"I doubt that's true," you offer gently. "She's just worried of losing you. Or seeing you make choices that could...you know, hurt you," you suggest, recalling the information you heard in the argument earlier.

"She didn’t say anything I didn’t already know. But hearing her say it—it hurts. She didn’t have to throw that in my face."

You nod slowly, understanding dawning. "You mean about the Vipers?"

Her head snaps toward you, eyes narrowing. "She told you?"

"No," you say quickly, raising your hands in defense. "She didn’t. That’s her story to tell, and I guess she’ll tell me when she’s ready. But… it’s not hard to figure out that there’s more to this than just a party."

The crying girl clears her throat before leaning back into the bench. “She could’ve told you. She probably didn’t tell you for my sake.”

You tilt your head confused, giving Aliyah your full attention.

“You’ll have to know this anyways if you’re going to date my sister and shut up I don’t wanna hear it. Let me explain.”

You laugh at her comment. How she knew you’d deny potentially dating her sister. But sensing the seriousness of the topic you zip your lips and listen, waiting for your long awaited questions to be answered.

“I’m sure you’ve gathered by now that Jenna is with the Vipers because of me.”

You softly nod.

“A few years ago,” she sighs recalling the night.

————

Aliyah was buzzing, the world around her a kaleidoscope of music, neon lights, and laughter. The bass thumped through her veins as she swayed to the beat, a red plastic cup in her hand. She wasn’t entirely sure what was in it—something strong, something that burned on the way down. Her "friends" had handed it to her earlier with a wink and a “just try it.”

It wasn’t her first party, but it was her first big one. College kids, flashy cars parked outside, and a house way too nice for a bunch of teenagers to be trashing. Percy had been the one to invite her, his charming smile making it seem like she’d be missing out on the event of the year if she didn’t show up.

“Aliyah!” Percy’s voice cut through the music. She turned, almost stumbling as the alcohol hit her harder than expected. He stood there, grinning, a bottle of something expensive-looking in one hand. “Having fun?”

“Yeah!” she replied, her words slightly slurred.

“Good, good,” he said, slinging an arm around her shoulder and steering her toward a quieter corner of the house. “Hey, you gotta try this.”

Aliyah blinked at the small pill he held out to her. “What is it?”

“Just something to help you relax,” he said, his voice smooth and reassuring. “Everyone’s doing it. No big deal.”

Normally, she would’ve said no. Normally, she wouldn’t have even been at a party like this. But the alcohol dulled her judgment, and Percy’s grin made it seem harmless. She hesitated for only a moment before taking the pill and swallowing it with a sip from her cup.

The next few hours were a blur. Colors seemed brighter, music louder, and her body lighter. She laughed at things that weren’t funny and danced until her legs felt like jelly. At some point, Percy led her upstairs, saying she needed to “rest.” She remembered collapsing onto a plush bed, her head spinning, and Percy’s shadow lingering in the doorway.

When she woke up the next morning, her phone was buzzing with texts from Jenna. But it was Percy’s smirk and the way he casually mentioned “having some footage” of her wild night that made her stomach drop.

“You wouldn’t want your dad seeing this, would you?” he’d said with a mockingly sweet tone.

That night changed everything.

————

"Hold on—did that asshole fucking—" you begin to demand, your voice low but trembling with barely contained fury. Your fists clench instinctively, already mapping out how you were gonna beat Percy's ass.

"No! No," she insists, her voice steadying as she places a hand on your arm, as if to keep you tethered. "Thank God, no. But..." Her gaze drops to the ground, shame flickering across her face. "Turns out it was a Viper party, he had footage of me taking whatever it was he gave me. And—" She swallows hard, her voice barely above a whisper, "he planted stuff on me too. Drugs. Enough to ruin everything if anyone found out."

The weight of her words sinks in, and your anger twists into something darker—colder. "That slimy, manipulative piece of shit," you mutter, pacing a few steps away before turning back to her. "He set you up."

Aliyah nods, hugging her arms to herself as if trying to shield herself from the memory.

"Sorry if this comes of rather insensitive but rich kid doing drugs doesn't really strike me as a headline. You see that shit everyday. Would it really have ruined everything?"

"My Dad's a dick. He didn't want it effecting his company. And unfortunately in his world it's a big deal." She pauses before continuing, "Percy just wanted leverage. Something to use against Dad." Her voice breaks, and she exhales shakily. "Dad handled it, but..."

"But that’s when Jenna got pulled into this mess," you finish for her, the realization hitting like a freight train.

Aliyah nods again, her eyes glassy. "Yeah. Dad made her join the Vipers to keep an eye on Percy and make sure he kept his word. But it wasn’t just that." She hesitates, biting her lip before continuing. "Jenna found out Percy made her joining the crew part of his deal. Like he wanted to make sure he had control over us both. And Dad said yes without hesitation."

The depth of Percy’s manipulation and the selfishness of the girls' father makes your stomach churn. You no longer felt any guilt for stealing that assholes car.

"And Jenna agreed?" you ask quietly, already knowing the answer.

"She didn’t have a choice," Aliyah whispers, her voice cracking. "Dad wouldn’t let me take the fall, and Jenna...she’s too loyal. She put herself in the line of fire for me."

You sink onto the bench beside her, running a hand through your hair as the weight of it all settles in. "Aliyah...this isn’t your fault," you say softly, though you’re not sure if you’re convincing her or yourself.

"It feels like it is," she murmurs, staring at her hands. "If I hadn’t been so stupid that night—"

"Stop." Your tone is firm but gentle. "Percy’s the one who’s to blame here. He’s the asshole who exploited you and dragged Jenna into this mess. Not you."

She doesn’t respond, but the way her shoulders shake tells you she’s trying to hold back tears. You reach out, hesitating for a moment before placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We’ll figure this out, Aliyah. We have the leverage we need. We’ll get Jenna out of this. I promise."

For the first time since the argument, she looks at you, her eyes glistening with vulnerability. "You mean that?"

"More than anything."

The two of you sit in silence after the night’s heavy revelations. It’s not awkward—if anything, it feels like the silence is exactly what you both need. As you sit on the bench, you watch students pass by in the soft glow of the campus lights. Some walk alone, weighed down by heavy backpacks and heavier thoughts. Others are carefree, laughing and chatting with friends, their steps light as air. A few move with quiet confidence, calm and steady.

You wonder, not for the first time, what your life might have been like if you hadn’t been born in Brimstone. Would you have been one of these students? What version of you would have existed here, unburdened by everything that came with your hometown?

“I guess…I can see why your sister was upset,” you say finally, breaking the silence.

Aliyah doesn’t respond right away, but she nods, the motion just visible from the corner of your eye.

“But,” you add with a small smile, “that was two years ago. You deserve another chance.” You turn to her, flashing a grin. “And besides, you’ve got me, Hunter, and Markus watching your back now.” You flex your arms dramatically. “No idea about those two, but nothing gets past me.”

She snorts, a laugh bubbling up despite herself. “Please, put those away. You’re going to embarrass us both.”

Her laughter softens, and when she turns to you, there’s a seriousness in her expression that catches you off guard. “I really hope it works out between you and my sister,” she says quietly.

The words hit you harder than you expect, leaving you momentarily speechless. It’s still complicated—still messy. But something about Aliyah’s vulnerability tonight makes it easier to let the thought cross your mind, even if you can’t voice it aloud.

For now, you settle for the truth that feels safest to admit, even if only to yourself.

I hope so too.

————

You’re greeted by the sight of the Ortega sisters wrapped in a tight embrace near the curb. Their voices are low, but the murmured apologies and soft laughter carry in the quiet night.

Jenna’s voice breaks through, her tone unusually tender. “No, I should’ve given you a chance. I didn’t have to be so mean, Aliyah. I’m sorry.”

Aliyah sniffles, her own voice equally apologetic. “I was wrong too. I should’ve listened to you. You’re just trying to look out for me.”

The rest of you—Hunter, Markus, and yourself—watch the heartwarming spectacle from the bench you were on moments ago with Aliyah. You exchange incredulous looks, eyebrows raised in unison.

“They’re hugging,” you point out, still processing.

“Like…full-on hugging,” Markus adds, as if needing confirmation.

Hunter leans back, crossing his arms. “I don’t know what’s more shocking—the fact that they stopped yelling or that they’re acting like this never happened.”

You snort, shaking your head. It’s kind of funny, really, how quickly they’ve gone from shouting to sobbing on each other’s shoulders. You glance at Hunter and Markus, a knowing thought crossing your mind. Just like your talk with Aliyah, it’s clear they must’ve said something to Jenna. Whatever it was, it worked, and you’re quietly grateful for it.

“They’re like a Netflix drama,” Markus muses. “Big fight in episode nine, full reconciliation by episode ten.”

Hunter chuckles. “They’re efficient, I’ll give them that.”

You smile to yourself, watching the sisters. It’s a relief to see them like this, to see the tension replaced with understanding. For all their differences, their bond is unshakable, and tonight, that’s clearer than ever.

“Efficient’s good,” you remark softly. “We could all use a little more of that.”

The three of you fall into a comfortable silence, still seated on the bench, content to let the moment play out. It’s been a long day, but for the first time in hours, it feels like everything might just turn out okay.

Your thoughts drift as the sisters continue to talk, the quiet laughter between them like the perfect breeze after a tense day. The closest you’ve ever had to something like that is Anton. It’s not quite the same—he isn’t your sibling, not by blood anyway, but he’s always been there, filling that role.

And yet, you and Anton aren’t like Jenna and Aliyah. When you two fight, it doesn’t end with quick apologies or mutual understanding. No, you’ve gone days without speaking. Weeks, even. Your disagreements have never been about anything as heavy as the sisters’ fight tonight, but they’ve been passionate all the same—mostly about the club.

You can still hear Anton’s voice in your head during your last big blow-up a few months ago—long before you met Jenna. “You think you’re above this? You think you’re better than the rest of us?” His words had stung, but so had your response. You’d called him reckless, accused him of not understanding your hesitations about racing, about the club, about everything it represented.

Looking back, you know you were both too stubborn to see the other’s perspective. And while things eventually smoothed over—like they always did—you can’t help but wonder if there’s still some lingering tension under the surface, something neither of you has addressed. And ever since that day he jokingly pulled that gun on you, ironically things have been calm. He probably thinks you're establishing yourself in the crew, and you don't know what to tell him.

Watching the sisters now, you feel a pang of envy. They’ve fought, sure, but they’ve also made their way back to each other in a way that feels effortless. You wonder if you and Anton could ever find that same ease, or if the unspoken disagreements between you will always weigh down your bond.

Hunter nudges you out of your thoughts. “You okay over there?”

You nod, shaking off the memory. “Yeah, just thinking.”

“About?”

You glance at the sisters, their shared laughter filling the night air. “How nice it must be to make up that fast,” you say simply.

Markus chimes in. “Don’t get too used to it. This is a rare sight.”

You laugh lightly, but the thought lingers. Maybe, just maybe, you and Anton could find that kind of understanding someday.

The sisters finally break their embrace and walk toward you, their expressions a mix of relief and mischief. Aliyah, ever the wildcard, claps her hands together and grins.

“Well, now that we’re done being dramatic, who’s ready to party?”

You glance at Jenna, who offers a small, almost shy smile, and then at Hunter and Markus. Surprisingly, no one objects. After the emotionally charged evening, maybe letting loose doesn’t sound so bad.

“Alright, let’s do it,” Hunter says, standing and stretching his arms.

As you all head back toward the dorm building, Markus throws a casual comment over his shoulder. “Hope you all packed swimsuits.”

The group collectively freezes, exchanging bewildered glances.

“Swimsuits?” Aliyah asks, narrowing her eyes.

Markus turns to smirk at her. “It’s a pool party. Did I not mention that?”

Your brain short-circuits. A pool party? Swimwear? Holy crap. Jenna in a bikini? You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, your face turning an embarrassing shade of red.

Oh god, what if she looks over here? you panic internally. Play it cool. Act normal. Breathe.

But the thought of Jenna, all confident and effortlessly beautiful, lounging poolside or—nope, nope, abort mission. You’re pretty sure your gay panic is written all over your face, and you try to busy yourself with looking anywhere but at her.

“Y/n?” Jenna’s voice pulls you from your spiraling thoughts.

You snap your head toward her, your voice coming out a little too loud. “What? Yes! Pool party! Great idea. Love it.”

Jenna raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by your overenthusiasm. “Uh-huh,” she says, her lips quirking into a small smile.

Aliyah gives you a knowing smirk but thankfully doesn’t say anything, and the group continues walking. You tug your shirt over your face, hoping to disappear into it.

————

"Why did you pack so many bikinis?" Jenna asks looking into her sister's duffel bag. 

"I had a feeling that something like this would happen," Aliyah mutters, her full attention on the swim suit she’s holding up in front of her.

The top is a classic triangle style with thin straps that tie around the neck and back, offering a simple yet sultry design. The cups are just enough to leave something to the imagination while perfectly accentuating curves. The bottoms—equally bold.

Jenna's eyes narrow at the sight. "You're wearing that?"

"Nope. You are."

The older Ortega looked at her sister like she just said the most insane words known to man. "What?"

"You heard me. You're wearing it."

Jenna snorts, crossing her arms. "Not in this lifetime."

"Oh, come on!" Aliyah groans, dangling the bikini in front of Jenna like a carrot on a stick. "It’s cute, it’ll look amazing on you, and it’s a pool party. You’ll blend right in."

Jenna glares at her sister, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Yeah, because nothing says ‘blending in’ like wearing half an outfit."

Aliyah rolls her eyes, unbothered. "You’ll thank me when you’re the center of attention. Besides..." She leans in, lowering her voice just enough to add some drama. "I’m pretty sure a certain someone would love to see you in this."

Jenna’s face flushes instantly. She hated that she actually considered wearing it for a second.

She snatches the bikini from Aliyah’s hand and tosses it on the bed before her sister can say another word. "You’re impossible."

Aliyah beams triumphantly. "You'll be thanking me later."

————

Outside, you finish getting dressed, opting for a simple look. You stick with your black sports bra and borrow a pair of pink swim shorts from Hunter, not giving much thought to your outfit. With a casual shrug, you figure it’s good enough.

As you adjust the waistband of the shorts, Hunter glances down at your stomach, his eyes lingering a beat too long on your toned abs. He smirks and quips, "Someone’s definitely gonna appreciate those."

You roll your eyes, ignoring the comment as your face heats up slightly. Pulling on your zip-up hoodie, you tug it closed halfway, hoping to downplay any attention.

Hunter chuckles softly, clearly amused by your reaction.

Before you can retaliate, Markus strolls over, sighing dramatically as he collapses onto the edge of his bed. He looks at you with exaggerated seriousness, steepling his fingers like some kind of TV detective.

"I think, as a brother, I have to do this," Markus begins, his tone solemn but with a glint of amusement in his eyes. "I’ve always done this with the guys Aliyah’s been into, so it only feels right to extend the same courtesy for Jenna."

Your stomach drops. Oh no. Is this really happening?

Markus straightens, folding his arms like a dad interrogating his daughter’s date. "What are your intentions with my sister?"

You freeze, blinking at him in horror. "What?"

Hunter chuckles, clearly finding this entire situation hilarious as he leans casually against the wall to watch the show.

"You heard me," Markus presses, his expression still annoyingly serious. "Jenna’s my sister. I need to know you’re not playing games. So, what are your intentions?"

You gulp, the words catching in your throat. You glance at Hunter for backup, but he just shrugs with a grin, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

"I…" you start, feeling your face grow hotter by the second. You will yourself to stay calm, refusing to let the teasing get to you. "Jenna’s… she’s important to me. I’m not leading her on, if that’s what you’re worried about."

Markus raises an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied.

Do you have to admit in this very moment that you maybe kind of like his sister...?

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. "Look, I don’t really know where we stand right now, but I care about her—a lot. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her."

Markus studies you for a moment longer before breaking into a grin. "Okay, that’s acceptable. For now."

"For now?" you echo, incredulous but Markus is already getting up, stretching like he just completed some monumental task.

"Yeah. Just remember, I’ll be watching." He winks at you before heading back to his side of the room.

"What are we watching?" Aliyah's voice suddenly booms, startling you.

You whip your head around at the speed of lightning, and of course your eyes lock onto Jenna's. Thank god she had the same idea as you and wore a jumper over whatever her swim outfit was so you couldn't tell what she was wearing.

Still, your stomach knots. Shit. Did Jenna hear you talking about her?

"Nothing," you mutter to Aliyah, trying to sound casual, though the heat creeping up your neck says otherwise. "Are we ready to go?"

As you glance back at Jenna, you realize she’s watching you intently. Her gaze lingers a little too long, her head tilted ever so slightly, as if she’s piecing something together. You feel your skin flush under her scrutiny, suddenly hyper-aware of her presence.

Then, just as you think you might combust from the tension, a slow, amused smile breaks across her face. Her eyes flick downward, and you follow her gaze to… oh god. The stupidly bright pink shorts Hunter lent you.

"Nice look," Jenna quips, her voice light and teasing.

Your hands instinctively tug at the hem of your hoodie, trying to shield as much of the shorts as possible. "Yeah, well… they’re functional."

"Functional," she echoes, her grin widening. "Sure."

Aliyah raises an eyebrow, looking between the two of you. "Alright, lovebirds," she says, rolling her eyes. "Let’s get going before the party’s over."

As the group starts heading out, you walk ahead, desperate to escape Jenna’s knowing smirk. But you can’t help glancing back just once, catching her still smiling at you, her eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and something else you can’t quite name.

————

Courtesy of Markus' Uber app, the driver slows to a stop, and you all step out, craning your necks to take in the towering building before you. The sleek glass facade gleams under the city lights, exuding wealth and extravagance.

"Jesus," Hunter breathes, his jaw practically hitting the sidewalk. "Is this a college party or a Kardashian party?"

You find yourself mirroring his wide-eyed expression. "This is… a lot," you mutter.

Markus grins. "Nah, it’s just a kid in my class. He’s cool. His family’s super rich, though."

You nod absently, but the information doesn’t exactly calm your nerves. As you stare at the building, a sudden wave of discomfort washes over you. Will it be obvious that you don’t belong here? The thought crosses your mind and stubbornly lingers, gnawing at the edges of your confidence.

You glance at Hunter, half-expecting him to share your unease, but no—he’s practically bouncing on his toes, his excitement palpable. Of course, he’d thrive in an environment like this.

Before you know it, you’re all piling into the elevator, Aliyah confidently hitting the button for the penthouse. The mirrored walls reflect your group back at you, and you take a steadying breath, trying to shake off the impostor syndrome creeping in.

As the elevator ascends, you feel a gentle tug on your sleeve. You glance down to see Jenna looking up at you, concern etched in her features.

"You okay?" she whispers, her voice soft enough that only you can hear.

You blink, caught off guard. "Huh? Yeah, I’m fine," you reply quickly, though the words feel hollow.

"You’ve been quiet," she presses, her eyes scanning your face. "You were lively during the ride, but now… it’s like you flipped a switch."

Her observation catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re unsure how to respond. It’s not often someone notices these shifts in you—let alone calls them out.

"I guess I’m just… a little overwhelmed," you admit finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jenna’s lips curve into a small, understanding smile. "Don’t worry," she says, her hand brushing against yours briefly in reassurance. "You’re with us. You belong here."

Her words hang in the air as the elevator dings, signaling your arrival at the penthouse. The doors slide open, revealing a lavish space filled with music, laughter, and an intoxicating air of luxury.

You step out, Jenna’s quiet reassurance still echoing in your mind, and try to believe it.

You barely have time to process the fleeting warmth of Jenna’s hand brushing against yours before a guy—presumably the host—beelines toward your group, a wide, sloppy grin plastered on his face.

“Markus! You made it, bro!” he slurs, his sunglasses tilted crookedly on his nose, a solo cup in each hand. One is filled with something neon green, the other an alarming shade of blue, and neither looks remotely safe to drink. You take him in quickly—barefoot, dripping wet, and leaving a sizable puddle in his wake. The guy clearly just climbed out of the massive pool that stretches across the center of the penthouse and doesn’t seem to care one bit about the water ruining the hardwood floors.

While Markus greets him with a laugh and a hearty handshake, you take the opportunity to glance around. The penthouse is sprawling—easily larger than half the homes on your street combined. The walls are painted a deep, moody purple, accented by dim, neon lighting that shifts colors in rhythm with the heavy bass of the music. The furniture screams luxury, from the sleek leather couches to the glass coffee tables littered with half-empty cups, discarded towels, and the occasional misplaced phone.

The centerpiece of the room, though, is undoubtedly the pool. It’s an indoor marvel, its edges lined with glowing tiles that cast an ethereal blue light across the entire space. The water ripples as people dive in or lounge at the edges, drinks in hand. Some are modestly dressed in one-pieces or board shorts, while others push the limits of decency, their swimwear leaving little to the imagination.

The energy in the room is wild, chaotic, and undeniably alluring. You can’t help but feel a little out of place amidst the atmosphere, but there’s also a strange pull to it—a curiosity about what the night might hold.

As Markus continues his lively conversation with the host, Aliyah nudges your arm, drawing your attention. “Anyone catch your attention?" she wiggles her eyebrows while looking around the penthouse.

Thankfully Jenna didn't hear the question and you don't answer. You glance over at Jenna, who’s taking in the chaos with a cool, unreadable expression. She seems completely at ease, as if she’s seen this kind of thing a hundred times before.

Finally, the host turns his attention to the rest of your group, his bleary eyes landing on Jenna. “And who are you?” he slurs, grinning like every rich boy stereotype rolled into one. He awkwardly stacks one solo cup into the other—both already full of whatever questionable concoctions he’s drinking. The liquid sloshes over the sides and onto the floor, and you can’t help but think, Damn, it’s gonna suck for whoever has to clean this up tomorrow.

He adjusts his crooked sunglasses onto his head with one hand and extends the other toward Jenna, clearly expecting her to shake it. Jenna hesitates, her eyes darting to Aliyah for guidance. Aliyah gives her an encouraging nod, but the simple act seems to weigh on her. Finally, after a moment of visible deliberation, Jenna gives the guy’s hand a quick, perfunctory shake, her expression polite but distant.

The host grins wider, clearly undeterred. “Hope you’ve got a swimsuit under that,” he says with a sloppy wink. “Maybe I’ll see you later.”

You stiffen, your jaw clenching as the scene plays out. What the fuck? The guy’s blatant drunkenness is gross enough, but his flirty comment? That’s a whole other level of irritating. You can’t say anything—you don’t have that right—but a twinge of jealousy twists in your chest nonetheless.

Of course something like this was going to happen. How could it not? Jenna was gorgeous, and anyone with eyes could see that. All these drunk college losers were going to shoot their shot, thinking they had a chance with her. The thought makes your blood simmer, but you force yourself to look away, jaw still tight.

Jenna, to her credit, doesn’t react much beyond a slight narrowing of her eyes. She turns back to your group, brushing off the host’s comment as if it were a stray piece of lint on her sleeve.

She turns to look at you and notices the way your jaw is clenched. And she can't help but notice the burning sensation in her chest at the sight. Is this the reaction she had wanted? She should've never let Aliyah get into her head.

"Make her jealous."

Her younger sister had whispered to her before they entered the party.

You breathe out a quiet sigh, your irritation still bubbling under the surface but tempered by the fact that she didn’t seem fazed.

Aliyah nudges you again, her voice low and teasing. “Careful, your face is gonna freeze like that.”

You roll your eyes, the tension easing just slightly. This is fine, you tell yourself. This is just a party.

————

This is not just a party.

The night had started with all five of you sticking together, like a tight-knit squad entering enemy territory. But, predictably, the chaos of the party soon swallowed you up, scattering everyone like confetti. Hunter had found his place in the pool, leading a cannonball competition that echoed with cheers and splashes loud enough to rival the music. Aliyah, ever the social butterfly, was mingling with Markus’ friends—some of whom she seemed to know already, laughing and chatting like this was her natural habitat.

Markus and Jenna claimed a spot poolside, lounging on sleek deck chairs while chatting with a group of partygoers. Probably Markus’ friends, you figured. He looked entirely in his element, gesturing animatedly while Jenna sat beside him, a quiet but magnetic presence.

As for you? Well, you were stationed at the edge of the action, nursing your second cup of the mystery blue fluid. It seemed like the safer option compared to the guy mixing vodka with… was that Mountain Dew? Your self-assigned mission was simple: keep an eye on Aliyah and shoot occasional glances at the girl by the pool.

Okay, maybe more than occasional.

Jenna was wearing a black bikini that was deceptively simple, all clean lines and understated elegance. It wasn’t flashy, but it didn’t need to be. It hugged her in all the right places, the kind of outfit that made her look like she’d walked straight out of a swimwear catalog. You could still feel the lingering heat in your cheeks from when she’d first taken off her jumper.

————

She had casually peeled it off as if it were no big deal—just another layer to shed in the heat of the party. But for you? It was a moment. One second, she was her usual, effortlessly cool self in the oversized jumper, and the next, she was standing there in that bikini, and your brain just… short-circuited.

Your first thought: Oh my god, she’s gorgeous. Your second thought: No, wait, she’s always been gorgeous. Your third thought: Holy crap, I’m staring.

Hunter, of course, had noticed your reaction because he never missed an opportunity to tease. He leaned over with a smirk and whispered, “Careful, you’re gonna burn a hole through her with that look.”

You’d snapped out of it with a flustered, “Shut up,” but it was too late. The damage was done. You were blushing so hard, you were sure your face could have powered the penthouse lights.

————

Now, as you stood there, gripping your cup like a lifeline, your eyes kept drifting back to Jenna. The soft glow from the pool lights made her skin look impossibly smooth, her hair falling over one shoulder in loose waves.

You told yourself to look away—to focus on something, anything else—but it was impossible. She was mesmerizing in a way that made the rest of the party blur into the background.

Your drink was halfway to your lips when you realized you hadn’t blinked in a while. Get it together, you scolded yourself, tearing your gaze away with a sharp breath.

But even as you tried to distract yourself, the truth was unavoidable: Jenna Ortega in a bikini—scratch that. Jenna Ortega was your kryptonite.

————

You can’t take your eyes off her.

You tell yourself it’s because you’re keeping an eye out, making sure no one bothers her, but the truth is, you’re mesmerized. She looks so comfortable, so effortlessly beautiful, and it’s infuriating how easy she makes it all seem.

“Enjoying the view?”

You nearly choke on air and whip your head to the side to see Aliyah standing there, a sly grin on her face.

“I—what?” you stammer, heat rushing to your face.

"I’ve seen you looking over there about fifty times in the last ten minutes."

You stiffened, immediately defensive. "I have not."

Aliyah raised an eyebrow, her smirk betraying just how much she was enjoying this. "Uh-huh. Sure. So, you’re not staring at my sister like she’s the eighth wonder of the world?"

She laughs. “Relax, I’m just messing with you.” She leans in closer, lowering her voice. “But seriously, you need to tell her. How long are you going to keep dancing around? And not like you’re not exactly subtle either.”

You glare at her, but the effect is ruined by the fact that your face is probably as red as the solo cup in your hand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.” She straightens up, her grin widening.

”Are you drinking tonight?” You ask her, changing the topic but also wanting to know the state of her so you can protect her as needed.

“Nope. It’s a sober night. Don’t worry about me and go get your girl before someone else does,” she urges.

Aliyah added, her tone lighter now, "if you do decide to shoot your shot, maybe don’t wait too long. She’s got options, you know."

You groan, taking another swig from your drink. The thought of Jenna with someone else is burning you.

“Anyway, I’m heading to the pool. Try not to stare too hard.”

She saunters off, leaving you standing there, flustered and annoyed but mostly just embarrassed. You glance back at Jenna, who’s now leaning back on her arms, her head tilted toward the ceiling.

You sigh and take a sip of your drink, the bitterness doing little to distract you from the whirlwind in your chest.

This is not just a party, you think again. This is torture.

————

As you leaned against the railing, sipping on your third drink of the night and trying to push Aliyah's words to the back of your mind, the host stumbled up to you, a wide, sloppy grin plastered across his face. He was holding a vape pen, which he took a long drag from before exhaling a cloud of vapor that smelled faintly of mango.

"Hey, my friennnd!" he slurred, swaying slightly as he leaned in closer than necessary. "You not havin’ a good time or what? You’re just… standing here."

You sighed, already exasperated. "I’m fine, thanks."

He squinted at you like he didn’t believe a word of it, then followed your line of sight toward the pool. His eyes lit up in drunken revelation. "Ahhh! I see what this is!" He laughed loudly and gave you a hearty slap on the back that almost made you spill your drink. "You’ve got eyes for the girl, huh?"

You stiffened, your face heating up. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Sure, sure," he said, waving you off with a laugh. "You’re just standing here, gripping the shit out of that drink, sneaking glances at her like a lovesick puppy because you hate her."

You rolled your eyes, trying to brush him off, but he wasn’t done. "You should go talk to her! Make your move, my dude. Life’s short, and she’s…" He gestured vaguely toward Jenna, nearly knocking himself off balance in the process. "She’s worth it, you know?"

The sincerity in his drunken tone threw you for a loop. You frowned, crossing your arms. "Weren’t you flirting with her earlier?"

He blinked at you, then laughed like you’d just told the funniest joke in the world. "Oh, that? Dude, I flirt with everyone here. It’s, like, my whole thing. Keeps the vibe alive, you know?"

You stared at him, unsure whether to be annoyed or amused. "So, what? None of it’s serious?"

He shrugged, leaning heavily against the railing beside you. "Sometimes it is. Sometimes it’s not. Most of the time, it’s just… me trying to connect. I mean, isn’t that what we’re all doing? Trying to feel something?"

His words hit harder than you expected, and you found yourself looking at him in a new light. Despite his slurred speech and drunken antics, there was something oddly profound about what he’d just said.

"So… what are you trying to feel?" you asked before you could stop yourself.

He let out a long sigh, his grin fading slightly. "Dunno, man. Something real, I guess. You ever feel like you’re just… floating? Like, you’re surrounded by people, but none of it feels solid? So you do stupid stuff—throw parties, flirt with strangers—just to remind yourself you’re alive?"

You stared at him, taken aback by the sudden vulnerability.

This was the last thing you were expecting tonight.

"Yeah," you admitted quietly. "I think I get that."

He looked at you, his expression surprisingly sober for a moment. "Then you get why you shouldn’t waste time. If you feel something—really feel something—you gotta go for it. Otherwise, what’s the point?"

You glanced back toward the pool, where Jenna was laughing at something Markus said, her eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that made your heart stutter.

“And if you don’t wanna take that chance. And want to take the easy way out. I’ll show you how to party,” he smirks gesturing to the end of the drinks table where three girls who you hadn’t noticed earlier were very obviously checking you out.

“I feel like kissing that guy over there,” he randomly announced. “Ciao!”

Maybe the drunk host had a point. And you made your choice.

————

The last month had been an avalanche of unsolicited advice.

Anton had urged you to chase what you want. Your mom stressed staying safe and doing what’s necessary. Hunter and Aliyah kept nudging you to address whatever was going on with Jenna.

And yet, you’d done nothing. Every word of wisdom rolled off you like water off a duck’s back. That’s what made it so damn funny that a drunk party host, of all people, was the one to finally light a fire under you.

Half the room was chasing something—a feeling. The same feeling that teens, young adults, and even grown adults spent their lives chasing. Butterflies, knots, secret glances, the kind of love that makes your heart race and your world slow down. Some people would do anything to find it. Others would do anything to forget it. But not everyone gets it.

What hit you was this: half the room was drowning their emptiness in alcohol, filling voids they didn’t know how to name. You, though? You didn’t have to fill that void. Because you already had what they were searching for.

And that was why, with a newfound determination, you started walking toward Markus, Aliyah, and Jenna by the pool.

You rehearsed what you might say in your head. You doubted you had the guts to blurt out a bold “I like you”—not even after three cups of that mystery blue drink. Sure, the booze helped take the edge off your nerves, but it wasn’t strong enough to make you reckless. Nothing at this party was as potent as Sinner’s jungle juice from back home.

Maybe you’d start small: “You look beautiful tonight.” Yeah, that could work. It was a start.

One way or another, Jenna was going to leave this party knowing how you felt about her.

The closer you got, the more you shook off your nerves. You watched Aliyah, now in the pool and leaning on the edge, whisper something in Jenna’s ear. You didn’t think much of it. The party was deafening, so whispering—or yelling—was the only way anyone could be heard.

But as you closed the gap, you saw Jenna turn her attention from Aliyah to the guy next to her. He was already looking at her, and whatever he’d said made her laugh—a real, full-bodied laugh. She even reached out and playfully slapped his arm.

What the hell?

You tried to brush it off. It was just a party. A nervous habit, maybe. It didn’t mean anything.

But then she did it again. The laugh was softer this time, more intimate. The playful arm slap turned into a lingering touch.

And this time, it wasn’t so easy to dismiss.

Jenna rises onto her tiptoes, leaning closer to the guy beside her. Whatever she whispers in his ear makes him nod, a smug grin stretching across his face. He hoists himself up onto the pool’s ledge with ease, droplets of water glistening on his skin in the dim party lights. Then, extending a hand, he helps Jenna out of the pool as well.

You stand frozen, watching as they make their way around the pool—not toward you, but on the opposite side. Hand in hand, they head for the dance floor.

Your stomach knots. Your feet feel glued to the ground, and you can only stand there, watching in disbelief as they disappear into the crowd.

You could see how the guy takes in the sights of her in that swim suit and it made you seethe with anger.

Aliyah scans the room, her gaze drifting over the pulsating crowd of partygoers. She spots you across the pool, standing stiffly, your eyes locked on Jenna like she’s the only person in the room. The intensity of your stare isn’t lost on her.

Her brow furrows, and she mouths a quiet, “Oh.”

“What’s up?” Markus asks, turning to her with a confused expression.

Aliyah hesitates before answering, her voice low, almost guilty. “I think I messed up.”

Aliyah’s stomach twists as she recalls her own words to Jenna earlier: “Go with the flow; it might cause someone to spring into action.”

Markus turns to her, confused. “What’re you talking about?”

Aliyah nods in your direction. “Look at her.”

Markus follows her gaze and immediately notices you, frozen and visibly fuming, your emotions written all over your face. He lets out a low whistle. “Oof. Yeah, that doesn’t look good.”

Aliyah shakes her head, already looking around. “We need to find Hunter. I don’t see this ending well if we don’t intervene.”

Markus groans, but he’s already following her lead. “Great. Another party, another disaster.”

————

Just minutes ago, you’d felt almost enlightened, convinced you were nothing like the crowd around you—certain you weren’t chasing the same empty void so many here seemed desperate to fill.

But now? Now you felt ridiculous. Pissed. And maybe that mystery blue drink had hit harder than you realized, because suddenly, you were stalking through the crowd, determined to find the host.

He wasn’t hard to spot. Sure enough, he’d achieved his goal, currently locked in a passionate kiss with the guy he’d been eyeing earlier.

Thankfully, he noticed you approaching just in time and broke away, grinning lazily.

You stopped in front of him, your frustration bubbling over. “Show me how to have a good time.”

The host’s grin faltered the moment he registered your expression. For someone as drunk as he was, it was almost impressive how quickly his disappointment flickered across his face. He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly, as if he’d hoped you wouldn’t end up here, fuming and frustrated.

But he nodded, brushing off the moment with a shrug and an exaggerated stumble in your direction. “Alright, alright,” he slurred, gesturing for you to follow him, leaving the guy he was making out with stranded for your sake. “Come on, let’s fix that mood of yours.”

He weaved his way back toward the drinks table, unsteady on his feet but somehow managing to avoid a complete wipeout. You followed reluctantly, your anger simmering beneath the surface as he gestured toward the end of the drinks table. The trio of girls you hadn’t noticed earlier perked up immediately, their eyes lighting up when they spotted you.

"First, we need to get you absolutely zonked!” the host cheers, thrusting a cup of that ominous green liquid into your hand.

You hesitate, staring at the swirling contents as if they might hold all the answers—or at least some of the regrets you’d rather avoid. Still, you take a sip, and the potent concoction hits you almost immediately. It’s stronger than the blue drink, and you know one thing for sure, you don’t want to get so wasted that you do something irreparably stupid at a party full of strangers. One drink, you decide. That’s your limit.

The host, however, is in full swing. “Alright! Step one done. Now, we find you a girl. The goal’s to make your gal jealous, right?”

You don’t say anything, your silence speaking volumes. He glances back at the dance floor, where Jenna’s still twirling and laughing with the guy. “Yeah, I’ll take that as a yes. She’s dancing with him, so we’re gonna play the same game. Cool?”

Guilt creeps up your spine, making your stomach churn more than the drink. You overthink everything. What would Jenna think? Would this make things worse?

The host seems to sense your hesitation. He snaps his fingers in front of your face. “Hey, stop thinking. You wanted to party, right? This is partying. Just dance and vibe—no strings attached. And bonus, she’ll notice. Maybe even pull a move herself. Cool?”

You still don’t answer, but he barrels on regardless, scanning the room with surprising clarity for someone who’s barely standing upright. His gaze lands on a girl across the room, sipping a drink and watching you with an air of quiet confidence. “I say you go for her,” he says, nodding toward her. “She’s not as desperate as those three over there practically undressing you with their eyes.” He gestures to the trio at the end of the table, but your attention is already locked on the girl he pointed out.

She’s gorgeous. Her sleek black hair falls effortlessly over her shoulders, catching the dim lights in a way that feels almost cinematic. Her lips, painted a deep red, curve into a subtle smirk as her dark hazel, almond-shaped eyes fixate on you. Those eyes… they’re hypnotic, pulling you in like she already knows the effect she’s having on you.

And then she does it—the sticky eyes trick. She looks at you, holds your gaze for a heartbeat longer than necessary, then glances away like she’s already won. It’s deliberate, it’s calculated, and it’s working.

“She’s doing it on purpose,” the host mutters, nudging you forward. “That’s your cue, my friend.”

Your feet move before your brain catches up, guilt and hesitation drowned out by whatever magnetic pull this girl has on you. As you approach, she tilts her head slightly, a single brow arching in challenge. The smirk deepens, and she takes a slow sip of her drink, her eyes never leaving yours now. It’s like she’s daring you to come closer, daring you to make the first move.

And you do.

It all happened so fast. One moment, you were walking across the room, drawn in by her magnetic gaze, and the next, you were standing in front of her. Barely any words were exchanged—just a coy smile and a simple, “Hey, I’m Sofia. Wanna dance?” Before you could even think, you nodded, and now here you are—another pair of bodies swaying in the pulsating rhythm of the music, like the rest of the world had melted away.

Her arms rest comfortably around your shoulders, her touch warm and intimate as if you’ve done this a million times before. Your hands find their place naturally at her waist, and the two of you move in perfect sync, every beat of the music mirrored in your steps. It’s effortless—the way her body follows yours, the way your energy bounces off hers.

But every few seconds, your eyes betray you, glancing over your shoulder to see what Jenna’s up to. And there she is, still dancing with that guy, laughing at something he’s said, her head tilting back just enough to make your stomach twist.

Sofia’s voice pulls you back. “Hmm, are we making that girl jealous?” she teases, her tone light but sharp enough to cut through the haze of your thoughts.

“Maybe,” you admit cautiously, the word barely audible over the music. You brace yourself, worried she’ll be offended that you’re using her for this. But instead, she smirks, her dark eyes glinting with mischief.

“Well,” she murmurs, her lips curving into a playful grin, “we’ll have to do a better job than this.” Without hesitation, she steps closer, closing the already small distance between you. Her body presses softly against yours, her movements slower, more deliberate, the intimacy cranked up just enough to make your pulse quicken.

“She an ex?” Sofia whispers, her breath warm against your ear. The words come out smooth, sultry—designed to sound just loud enough for you to hear.

“No,” you reply, your voice catching slightly. “We’re just... friends?”

Sofia throws her head back, laughing dramatically, the sound exaggerated and almost theatrical. It’s over the top, no doubt meant to draw attention. Jenna’s attention. You’re sure she’s watching now, though you don’t dare look back. Instead, you commit fully to the bit, letting the drinks loosen your inhibitions. The music thrums in your chest, your body moving like the college kid you are—reckless, carefree, and untethered.

For the first time tonight, you let yourself stop thinking. You dance like no one’s watching—though deep down, you know someone is.

————

Hunter, Aliyah, and Markus watched the scene unfold like an audience to the world’s most chaotic soap opera. Their expressions ranged from shock to amusement, with Hunter’s jaw practically on the floor.

“What the fuck did I miss?” he asked, eyes darting between you and your dance partner and Jenna and hers.

“I told Jenna to make Y/n jealous,” Aliyah admitted, her voice tinged with guilt. “And now Y/n is retaliating.”

Hunter let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “This is so not like Y/n, but I kinda like it. That girl is cute.”

Aliyah shot him a sharp glare. “Excuse me? Aren’t we rooting for Jenna and Y/n?”

Hunter snickered. “We are, but relax. This is just the pre-show. They’ll have makeup sex and get over it.”

Aliyah groaned, rolling her eyes. “Seriously? Makeup sex? They—"

Hunter smirked. “Yeah, makeup sex. You know, when they—”

Markus laughs at Hunter’s response.

“I know what it is, weirdo,” Aliyah snapped. “But they’re not there yet. They haven’t even admitted they like each other yet! They need to stop being stubborn and actually talk!”

Hunter leaned back, crossing his arms confidently. “It’ll happen. Look at them—they’re both trying to make each other jealous. This is just foreplay. They’ll be fine as long as neither of them crosses the line. Dancing? Fine. Kissing? That could screw everything up.”

Their attention snapped back to the dance floor as Jenna, spotting you with Sofia, retaliated. She moved even closer to her partner, her hands trailing over his shoulders, their movements far more intimate now.

“Oh no,” Aliyah muttered.

“Oh yes,” Hunter said, grinning. “Now it’s getting good.”

The group leaned forward, watching as you noticed Jenna’s escalation. Without missing a beat, you responded. Sofia seemed to catch on quickly, her body now pressed firmly against yours as you matched Jenna’s energy. The two of you danced as if the rest of the world had disappeared, exchanging subtle glances that grew bolder with every passing moment.

It was a game of one-upmanship now. Jenna would sway closer to her partner, and you’d mirror her, pulling Sofia even closer. Jenna’s hands would glide down her partner’s arms, and Sofia would follow suit with you. Back and forth it went, escalating with each move, the tension between you and Jenna palpable even from across the room.

“Holy shit,” Hunter muttered, his grin widening. “They’re not even pretending anymore.”

“They’re literally staring each other down,” Markus added, incredulous.

It was true. Neither of you was hiding the fact that this was all about the other. Your eyes locked with Jenna’s, an unspoken challenge passing between you as your bodies moved in sync with your respective partners. The music thumped, the crowd blurred, but all that mattered was who would break first.

Sofia's hands slid up your arms and found their way to your shoulders as you danced, her movements effortlessly in sync with yours. Her body pressed closer, her breath warm against your neck, and her fingers trailed lightly down your chest to your exposed abs, pausing there just long enough to send a shiver through you.

You felt her touch, soft but deliberate, and couldn't help but glance over your shoulder.

Jenna was watching.

Her gaze wasn't subtle—it lingered, her lips tightening as her eyes followed Sofia's hands on you. The guy she was dancing with had his hands on her waist, pulling her closer, but Jenna's attention wasn't on him at all. It was on you, her expression a mix of irritation and something else you couldn't quite place.

Then, suddenly, you froze. Breaking away from Sofia.

“What’s happening?” Aliyah whispered, her voice tight with worry.

The trio followed your gaze back to Jenna. She was standing on her tiptoes, leaning in toward her partner, her face inches from his. Her lips parted slightly, as if she were about to—

“Oh no,” Aliyah breathed, clutching Markus’s arm.

The three of them stared, holding their breath, as the moment stretched into eternity.

Taglist: @godamnityess @machyishere @freakshow2501 @nwestra @mcchicken88

@101rizzlrr @snowdrop1026 @ilovesneezing069 @btay3115 @burntoutghost

@cobaltperun

[hannieehaee]

Watching the new ATLA show I had the thought that Joshua would be an earthbender (with those giant hands of his) and now I have a new fantasy of getting railed by earthbender!joshua 😔🤚🏽

18+ / mdi

content: earthbender!joshua, implied e2l, reader is supposed to be zuko's sister for some reason but it doesnt really make much difference to the blurb, afab reader, smut, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 1006

a/n: so sorry for how long ive left this unanswered 😭😭 and thank you so much to the anons who gave me context about avatar since ive never watched it<3

masterlist

"oh, it's you again."

"don't act like you're not here to see me," the man chuckled condescendingly at you, carrying a smile far too charming for you to roll your eyes at.

"what can i get for you today?", he asked after moments of enjoying your annoyance at him.

"the usual," you responded without much thought.

uselessly writing it down, he looked up at you afterwards with a wink, chuckling again when you groaned at the action.

"not sure why my uncle hired you when you're so damn annoying," you muttered.

"what you call annoying others would say is charming", he corrected with far too much confidence.

unfortunately, it was true. ever since your uncle had hired him, business had been booming for the tea shop he'd just recently opened.

it was infuriating. everyone loved joshua, regardless of how big of an ego he had.

yet here you were. surely you weren't just here for some coffee, but you couldn't admit that to anyone (or even yourself) just yet. and so you sat there scowling at the object of your fury.

"what, not gonna say anything else? just gonna check me out the whole time?", he put away the pen and small notebook book he'd been holding, instead choosing to lean on the table you'd been sitting at, "fine. do you want something off the menu then?," he smirked at you, eyes dark with something unreadable.

you bit your lip. whether in annoyance or interest, you weren't sure.

but he reciprocated. somewhat.

straightening himself back up, he walked a few obvious steps to the restroom nearby, halting his movements when he came face to face with it and turning back to look at you. leaning against the wall, he eyed you with the smirk still present on his lips. he nodded towards you and then towards the door of the bathroom, giving you one last suggestive look before crossing the threshold into the restroom.

that's when you fucked up.

~

"god, you're so predictable," joshua mumbled between heavy kisses.

you didn't even bother to mutter back an answer, knowing he had the upper hand. he always did.

this was unexpected even for you. the original plan had been to come into his workplace to annoy him, yet here you were, tongue deep in his throat while he managed to earthbend the ground beneath you in order to ensure the two of you total privacy. it was at least nice to know he'd go through extra effort to get you alone.

"nothing to say? want me to keep you here all for me, huh?"

"shut up. just fuck me," you huffed, hands reaching down to his pants.

"oh? desperate? take me out then, baby," he challenged.

his head fell to your shoulder when you began jerking him off through his pants, pulling him out quickly after and swallowing a moan at the sight.

of course he was well endowed everywhere.

"shit, let me just-" and then your skirt was lifted, panties sticking to you due to the wetness he'd caused with mere kisses and some harsh fondling of your body.

his strong arms were for more than just show, apparently, as he used them to turn you around and make you face the wall. your hands went out instinctively to hold yourself against as your back arched to give him better access.

forced to let go of his dick as he flipped you around, he held onto it instead, using the tip to run through your folds through your tiny excuse for panties.

"shua, what if someone-"

"no one's gonna see or hear us, baby. don't worry. i turned the entrance into quicksand. no one can come in," he said too casually for your liking. his head was too preoccupied on his other head.

"joshua!"

"shh. 'm gonna fuck you now, okay? be good 'n let me just ... fuck, yeah, just like that ..."

a whine left your lips as soon as he entered you, but that was the last sound you were able to let out before one of his large hands went to cover your mouth. it was demeaning, yet it made you clamp down on him.

"god, can't even pretend you don't like this. you take it so good," he groaned, "isn't it good, baby? tell me how good it feels."

you attempted to cry and whine against the palm of his hand, all while he chuckled at your weak attempts, relentless in fucking into you.

"can't make a sound, huh? bet zuko would lose his mind knowing what i'm doing to his baby sister," he mocked you.

his efforts increased then. hips met your ass, making far too much noise for what was supposed to be a public restroom. you feared more patrons would enter the establishment, that someone may hear what you were doing with your supposed nemesis, yet you never made a move to stop him.

you continued to receive pleasure from him with no complaint, allowing him to do with you as he pleased. treated like a lifeless doll, he fucked into you until you were sure you'd bruise, legs unable to stand on their own. it was more pleasure than you'd ever felt, and you hated him for it.

but the biggest pleasure came when joshua's orgasm took over him, pulling you right down with him. his hips stuttered and his breath hitched, low groans replaced by high pitched breaths into your neck.

with one last whine (unknown if it was yours or his), he pulled out, leaving you limp against the wall as he gathered whatever was nearby in order to get you presentable again.

when you finally pushed yourself off the wall to face him, you were met with a face of satisfaction so annoying it had you wanting to burn the place down. it somehow doubled in satisfaction when you attempted to take your first step towards the door, stumbling in the process.

"what, need me to call your brother to come get you?", he laughed.

"i'll kill you, hong."

[writerpeach]

Overindulgent

IVE Jang Wonyoung x m!reader

14k+ words

---

Read on AFF

Read on AO3

“Chocolate or strawberry?”

It should have been a simple question to answer.

As simple as naming a favorite color, most people would have no trouble answering without hesitation, based on preference or what one was in the mood for. Milkshakes were the perfect treat, universally loved and the best thing to have on a hot summer day, especially after a grueling two-hour, forgettable class.

But most people weren’t Jang Wonyoung. “Two flavors? That’s all?”

Around her, nothing would ever be simple. If you asked her to name two numbers, she would find some justification to add a third.

“Sorry, princess,” you said with obvious mockery in your tone. “That’s all there is. But you can add toppings.”

“If one of those toppings isn’t mint, then I don’t---ugh, fine. Strawberry.”

Wonyoung audibly sighed when she grabbed her pink milkshake, sitting down at one of the white leather booths in the farthest possible corner from everything as could be.

She looked unsatisfied even before her first sip, and lifelessly stirred the creamy concoction, hoping to somehow conjure up something more appealing. Wonyoung had very specific tastes, and didn’t particularly care for stepping out of her comfort zone.

Watching for her reaction, Wonyoung made a loud slurp through her long red straw set amidst a sea of sugar. “How is it?”

“It’s too sweet.”

Of all the possibilities in the world, nothing prepared you for that one.

“It’s a milkshake…” you said with a furrowed brow.

Yujin introduced you to this particular place. Two straws, one big chocolate milkshake, and an elated look of bliss on her face later, and she was slurping it down until nothing but air filled her straw. So it was only natural that you’d invite Wonyoung here with the same expectations. That was your first mistake.

“Well, it’s too sweet.”

Incredible.

Being seated across the booth from Wonyoung felt like you were part of a failed science experiment, because every sip taken came with a different reaction, like she expected her opinion to change. When she wiped bits of whipped cream from her glossy lips, the growing disdain on her face didn’t disappear with it.

Who knew you'd located the sole person in the entire universe who disliked milkshakes? That alone was an achievement worthy of a medal or plaque to proudly display on the fireplace for all to see.

“Here, you finish it,” Wonyoung said, verging on demand as she slid it across the table next to your half-finished chocolate shake.

“But I already have one. And this is plenty,” you replied, taking a long sip, and savoring the sugary bliss to help ease the pain of your astonishment.

“Ugh, fine. Just throw it away. I paid for them both, but I don’t even want to look at it anymore.”

“No---wait. I’ll save it for Yujin. She loves sweet things.”

“Fine. It’s a good thing I brought my car then. Wouldn’t want it to melt. I’ve seen how much she enjoys swallowing creamy thick liquids down her throat…”

Something so uncharacteristic caught you off-guard. Jang Wonyoung was many things: bossy, spoiled, infuriating more times than you could count, but lewd jokes that sprang from nowhere without so much as a smirk? Not what you expected today.

Wonyoung slid out of the booth and made for the exit. You followed behind, both milkshakes in hand, and took turns sipping from each one, enjoying the unique flavors each brought.

“I can’t believe anyone likes those things. They’re just sugar.”

“That’s why everyone likes them. But that would assume our little princess actually knew how to enjoy anything.” That remark caught you in her deadly gaze, but you didn’t hold back the smile on your face, perhaps to your detriment.

“Keep that up and you’re walking home.”

“Oh, come on, princess. We both know you enjoy my company too much. It’s not my fault you can’t take a little joke.”

“Is that so?” Wonyoung entered her black, two-door sports car and closed the door with yet another icy glare. Seconds after, you grabbed the cold metal handle and opened it, to no avail. Without success, you tried again---but the door didn’t budge an inch. Tapping on the window proved as pointless as offering Wonyoung another sip of milkshake.

“Wonyoung---“ Ignoring any attempt you made to grab her attention, she instead revved the engine in succession and avoided your gaze with every stomp on the pedal.

Surely, she wouldn’t---

“Come on, this isn’t funny. Just open the door.” The door handle might as well have been fashioned out of paper and glued on, for as useless as it now was. After trying one last time, Wonyoung cracked open the window just enough to speak.

“It’s not my fault you can’t take a little joke.” That was the last thing you heard before her tires squealed and she sped off without looking back.

…she would.

Guess you were walking off all that ice cream.

You still couldn’t believe it. Wonyoung wasn’t a stranger to your teasing, but never took it so seriously before. On the plus side, at least the ice cream shop wasn’t more than a twenty-minute walk from your place. Well, it wasn’t exactly your place, and you just had the privilege of living in a luxurious high-rise apartment that had Wonyoung and Yujin’s names on the dotted line.

Ten minutes from campus, the loft came fully furnished with an always stocked fridge, a gorgeous pool, spacious bedrooms, and one of the best views you could ask for, while also saving you from the nightmares of dorm life.

Quite contrary to your first year of college spent in a shoe-box sized room, an uncomfortable bed, and a quiet, messy roommate, always there when you needed just a minute to yourself. It taught you a valuable lesson to never underestimate the value of privacy.

Maybe a stroke of luck that at the end of that semester from hell came your first encounter with Yujin. Tucked away in a secluded corner at the library, she recognized you from class and offered to help study. One study session grew into two, which turned into three, then led into several sessions over coffee every week, until you were seeing each other virtually every day.

Over time, the two of you got closer, meeting without the pretense of studying. Then one day, the books got tossed aside, and the only thing being studied was how far Yujin could ram her tongue down your mouth.

You learned early on how difficult it was to say no to Yujin. Whether you were in the middle of the library, taking up spots on the packed couches, the always crowded student center, or right by the administration office, no place was off-limits for an impromptu make-out session. Eventually, those steamy make-out sessions migrated to Yujin’s place, where your first encounter with her younger roommate Wonyoung took place with your pants and underwear around your ankles.

You didn’t know what was more awkward, the act of being caught in the middle of Yujin blowing you on the couch, or that Wonyoung stayed for the entire show. And that was your first lesson about Wonyoung and her voyeuristic tendencies.

The two of them were the best of friends and never strayed far from one another outside of class. But Wonyoung loved to watch your sex-crazed moments with Yujin, insisting that she wouldn’t get in the way or be noticeable. Which, true or not, could never be something you grew used to---the younger of the two sitting silently inches away, lurking like a cat in the shadows when you ate her out on the kitchen counter, while Yujin rode you on the couch, or whatever other outcome that ended with the both of you covered in sweat and panting heavily.

Months later, you were moving in at their behest, which made sense when you spent most of your time there. Any offerings to pay your fair share of rent were denied, as both of your new roommates were very well off with no financial concerns. Nevertheless, your infinite methods of pleasuring Yujin more than made up for it.

So after settling in, (which took some time for you to grow accustomed to waking up surrounded by luxury), you couldn’t be more thankful, not only being freed from the burdens of rent but also from the tortures of dorm living, and the three of you grew inseparable.

Mostly. Because when Wonyoung was in a bad mood, the whole universe knew about it. Making her the butt of jokes was your way of chipping away at that stuck up attitude, but it had never backfired quite spectacularly like this.

As you neared your shared loft, a tremendous sense of relief filled your body, but did little to dissipate the anger that pumped through your veins. Overheated, sweaty, and stuck holding a milkshake that no longer met that definition, the only thing that cooled your temper (quite literally), was the frigid blasts of air-conditioning that hit you when you stepped through the front door.

“Oh, look who it is. Enjoy the sun?” asked Wonyoung when you stepped inside, lying at the end of the L-shaped gray couch. Sporting a smug smile on her face, she folded her arms, and leaned back into the cushions, completely oblivious to the daggers you stared in her direction.

“Daddy, you’re home. Where were you?” Yujin asked as she approached closer, embracing you in her arms, and planted a kiss on your cheek. “You’re all sweaty. And you’re burning up, too.”

“Maybe you should ask her.” With gritted teeth, you stared a hole into the petite woman sprawled out on the couch cushions, face buried in her phone without a single care in the world.

“Wonyoung?”

“Yes, unnie?” she asked, reluctant to look up for even a moment. Too obsessed with her phone, Wonyoung wouldn’t even notice if the house was on fire.

“Weren’t you two together? Why did you make it home first by yourself? And why does daddy look like he just ran a marathon?”

“Hold on, I almost have enough jades for another pull.”

“Jang Wonyoung! Answer me. You’ve already spent enough money on that stupid game.”

“It’s not stupid, you’re just bad at it. Don’t be jealous because I have better characters than you.”

Yujin let out a heavy sigh while a frown formed on her face, torn between scolding Wonyoung or ensuring you were alright.

Meanwhile, you hurried to the refrigerator out of fear of passing out and downed a bottle of water, but left just enough liquid to pour over your head, running your fingers through wet hair to cool yourself off more.

“Daddy, what happened? Why are you so tired?” Yujin asked, entering the kitchen as she turned her attention away from Wonyoung.

“Because this fucking brat ditched me.”

“Listen here, asshole---“ Wonyoung finally sat up from her phone, tossed it aside and clenched her fists, the swelling rage in her eyes overtaking her body.

“Hey, stop that. Both of you,” Yujin said, rapidly losing control of the situation. That sweet voice of hers could soothe an entire forest fire, but here, it held zero sway when your bickering became like two rams butting heads.

“What’s the matter, princess? Your servants haven’t arrived to cook your five star meal and clean your throne?”

“Daddy, that’s enough,” Yujin warned, trying to tug at your arm while making herself a barrier between the two of you.

“I don’t get what you’re upset about. Don’t you love the outdoors? Like when you made me walk in the woods for hours? I told you, I hate bugs.”

“What a shocker, you hate everything! Rain, milkshakes, anything that isn’t you being pampered---“

“Enough!” Yujin said as she slammed her fists on the kitchen counter, making the cabinets shake. “You’re both in university, aren’t you? Or did you suddenly enroll in preschool? Because you’re both acting like children.”

The house grew eerily silent. After getting a second bottle of water, you leaned against the refrigerator and sipped it silently as your body tensed up.

“Wonyoung, I want you to apologize,” Yujin said, lowering her voice as she tried to control the chaos.

“What?” she scoffed, sinking back into the couch as she squeezed her phone tight. “Why? I didn’t do anything.”

Yujin clenched her jaw as she took a deep breath. “Apologize. Now.”

“Of course, you always take sides with him. Just because daddy has a nice cock doesn’t mean you have to agree with everything he says.”

“This isn’t about sides. This is about resolving a situation that I wasn’t there to handle. I want both of you to apologize. You’ve both been living together far too long to have childish arguments like this.”

“Absolutely not. I won’t apologize when I haven’t done anything wrong,” Wonyoung murmured as she stormed towards her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Yujin rubbed her temple in frustration. “I can’t deal with this right now. I have class in thirty minutes and I haven’t even eaten lunch yet.”

Gathering her things up, Yujin stuffed them into her bag before slinging it over her shoulder. After giving you one last kiss on the forehead, she turned towards the door. “Sorry, daddy. I know it wasn’t your fault. She’s just like this sometimes. She’s still so young, it’s been one of her traits I thought she’d grow out of…”

“It’s fine, Yujin. I’ll let her calm down, then try to talk things out with her. I shouldn’t have pushed so many buttons.”

“Thanks, daddy. Just try not to kill each other while I’m gone, okay?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all I can ask.” Yujin’s radiating smile put out any last remnants of anger you had, with the door closing a signal of her departure. Seeking refuge on the couch, you plopped down, kicked your shoes off, and relaxed into the pillows, the first chance of relaxation since your alarm went off. If it wasn’t early afternoon and you didn't have any studying to do, you would open one of the more fancy bottles of wine that was calling your name from the kitchen cabinet.

Instead, you opted for something more mundane and grabbed the remote, accepting whatever suggestion the TV app doled out, even if you settled with background noise to help relax.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Wonyoung repeated louder and shook your shoulder, waking you up from an unexpected, unplanned nap that left you in a haze, unable to even discern what hour it was.

“What?” you sleepily asked, rubbing your eyes while you returned back to consciousness. The lack of proper sleep caught up with you, and the past hour didn’t help one bit.

“Can you turn it down a little? I’m trying to study, and you’re making that difficult.”

Not even fully awake, the last thing you wanted to hear was Wonyoung’s voice, let alone more complaints. It would be effortless to indulge what she asked, but you had no intentions to do anything about the noise. It was the last thing she deserved.

“And your loud voice is making it difficult for me to sleep,” you blurted out, unable to hide your annoyance. “I didn’t know you studied. I thought you just complained and bossed people around.”

Wonyoung maintained her steely gaze, tone calm and collected, a vast difference from before. “You have a bedroom, you know. Upstairs? Ugh, I’m not here to argue. I have a test on Friday that’s twenty percent, which is bullshit. I can’t fail it.”

“Then maybe you should go back to studying,” you said, disregarding her attempts to make eye contact.

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do?” Wonyoung asked, rolling her eyes. “How am I supposed to get any studying done if you keep interrupting with your---whatever the hell this is you’re watching…”

Ignoring her was the only suitable option. You shifted your body sideways with hopes to elude her, only allowing furtive glances while focused on the screen. No matter what, you could still feel her presence looming while doing everything to avoid another heated argument.

Unable to stand still for a moment, Wonyoung interrupted the silence with a huff, a sign of surrender as she joined you on the couch and tucked her long legs underneath her. Grabbing a pillow from behind, she squeezed it, using it as stress relief when pressed against her chest. “You know, sometimes you can be a bit of an ass.”

You found it impossible not to laugh and eventually gave her the attention she didn’t deserve. “I know I didn’t just hear a spoiled little brat tell me what type of person I am.”

“I’m not always the nicest person, I’ll admit that,” Wonyoung muttered, sinking her head back into the pillows. Finally, something you could both agree on. But it still didn’t excuse her earlier actions.

“Is this your way of apologizing?“ you asked, and the way she looked at you resembled like you had just asked her to strip naked in front of you.

“You think I’m going to apologize?”

“No, because I know you’re not capable of ever admitting you were wrong.”

“That’s because I’m never wrong.” Wonyoung took a deep breath and let it out slowly to bring her composure under control. “If you thought I was going to get on my knees and beg for forgiveness, that’s not happening.”

Wonyoung might have had all the money in the world, but it couldn’t buy an apology. “But I’m sure you’re used to getting on your knees.”

Her mouth dropped open, and you almost had an immediate regret for delivering such a low blow---almost. Fueled by anger, Wonyoung flung a pillow at your head, but you dodged it with ease, laughing at what a pathetic throw it was.

“You really are an asshole sometimes.”

Who needed an apology when you could see such a pissed off look on Wonyoung’s pretty face? It was the most irate you had ever seen her, a pure ball of fury; trembling fists, clenched jaw, and a death stare that could cut through diamonds.

“Oh, did I upset the princess again?”

“Stop calling me th---you know what, you’re not worth my time,” Wonyoung breathed out, narrowing her eyes before rising to her feet.

“And that’s your problem, princess.”

“What?” she asked, taking a step forward and balled her fists as she pivoted to confront you, letting you see the rage up close on her features.

“Nobody is worth your time. You don’t care about anything or anyone but yourself, unless it benefits you some shape or fashion.”

“That’s not true, how the fuck would you know what I care about? Just because we’ve lived together for months doesn’t mean you know anything about me.”

“You’ve got a mouth on you princess. That’s not like you.”

“I said don’t call me that!”

“Or what?” Following suit, you stood up, matching her height and then some. “You’ll cry about it? Complain some more?”

Wonyoung didn’t utter a word. Her anger boiled over, and without warning, she smacked you across the face, leaving both a sting and a smile across your face.

“That’s it, princess, let it all out.” Without retaliation, you let her inch forward, backing you up until you were pressed up against the living room wall. Wonyoung was hardly a threat. Her tall, but petite figure wasn’t remotely intimidating, and the closer she got, the more anger you could see in her eyes. Your smile widened as she delivered a harsher slap to your face, but you seized her delicate wrist to prevent a third, until eventually you let go, which provoked her to strike your cheek once again.

Those slaps only had as much power as her anger, with no remorse behind them, and the only reason you didn’t stop her was the see the explosive wrath in her pretty round eyes. The option to defuse the situation existed whenever you deemed it necessary, as simple as either picking her slender body up to toss her on the couch, or escorting her back to her room, whatever made her stop acting like such a pedantic little brat.

But testing Wonyoung’s limited patience became a game to you, until it snapped like the flimsiest of threads, letting her pretend she had the upper hand. The sting on your cheek only encouraged you to toy with her, adding fuel to the fires of rage.

Her little chest heaved as she recovered from the barrage of slaps, heart beating loud enough for you to hear. “Feel better?”

“Not even close.”

“Then hit me again. Come on, princess, Yujin isn’t here to save you. Why don’t you give it your all and make them hurt?”

Upping the agitation by repeatedly pointing at your cheek, you could do this all day. Because, god she made things far too easy.

“No. Like I said, you’re not---worth---it.”

The more she repeated that, the more you doubted it. Because Wonyoung could have backed away, retreated to her bedroom, the kitchen, the pool, literally anywhere else. Yet, she kept her feet planted firmly where she was, face to face so close that you could see your own reflection in her eyes.

And while you were so near, you could map out her perfect features, from her pink glossy lips to her typically bright eyes filled with fury, and everything in between. “You know, you’re pretty when you’re angry.”

The corners of her mouth twitched. Contrary to what you expected, Wonyoung’s intense gaze softened, and her fists relaxed until her breathing began to stabilize. You knew how to strike her weakness, that a simple compliment would douse her red hot rage and stroke her ego, even if she wouldn’t admit it.

“D-don’t even start,” she said, but you could hear how flustered she became, how shaky her voice sounded. Another step and your foreheads would have touched, close enough already that you could smell the berries from her shampoo.

Wonyoung froze as a wave of emotions ran through her. You easily got lost in her lingering gaze, wondering what exactly went on behind those beautiful dark eyes. “That’s what you love, right? Being told how pretty you are?”

“Shut up. I don’t need compliments.”

Oh, but she did. Jang Wonyoung was a terrible liar and loved being showered in compliments almost as much as she loved arguing. You knew that vanity was her weak spot, and you planned to exploit that vulnerability.

“Answer me, princess. Do you like being called pretty?”

“I thought I told you to shut up, didn’t I?”

“What are you going to do if I---“

Before you could finish speaking, Wonyoung shoved you up against the wall and pressed her luscious lips against yours with surprising force. All that rage and resentment transformed into pure, unadulterated lust, which made you forget what you were even mad about in the first place.

The sweet taste of Wonyoung’s soft lips became the only thing that preoccupied your mind, alongside how your tongues danced in each other’s mouth, and how badly you wanted one thing---her.

With all rational thoughts and logic thrown out, you lifted Wonyoung’s petite frame up off the ground, snaked your arms around her tiny little waist and reclaimed control by press-ing her up against the wall. As the kiss kept going, Wonyoung tugged at your hair, trying to get any little advantage she could, but you didn’t let it distract you from exploring the soft curves of her tight body, and moved down to grab her ass, squeezing firmly as the both of you fought to deepen the kiss.

Breaking apart for air, you could see the rosy hues visible on her cheeks, those round eyes no longer filled with fury, but deep desire. And then you dove right back in for round two, lips parted once more, while hands roamed bodies and lips smacked, eager to keep her taste lingering in your mouth. When you kneaded Wonyoung’s ass harder, she moaned in your mouth, and you could feel every little touch making her tight body tremble.

She leaned forward to rest her forehead against yours, breath warm against your face. “God, you’re so annoying. I hate how good of a kisser you are.”

“And you’re such a brat.”

“But you like brats. Isn’t that right, daddy?”

“You don’t get to call me that.”

“Aw, is daddy getting mad again? Wait, where’s Yujin?” Wonyoung had been so caught up in the moment that she hadn’t even realized her closest friend and roommate hadn’t been there in hours.

“She went to class. Should probably be back soon.”

“Class? Yujin doesn’t have classes today.” Wonyoung raised her eyebrow, tilting her head in suspicion. “So that means…”

“She won’t be back for a while,” you said, putting the pieces together. Wonyoung giggled before leaning in once more to steal another kiss. You let her lead for a moment, and ran fingertips up the small of her back, tracing the hot skin while keeping her weight against the wall. Then, while those tiny gasps continued, you moved down her neck, kissing all the exposed skin you could find.

“Ah, that’s good, but---put me down.”

“Why?” Unfazed by the tone of voice, you continued to pepper her skin with kisses, motivated by the breathless moans she kept letting out.

“You really have to ask? Because I’m going to suck your dick, dummy.”

That sudden shift of mood could only make you grin from ear to ear. Clearly, Yujin must have been rubbing off on her, because something so blatant wasn’t like Wonyoung.

“You’re so demanding,” you said, taking one more chance to kiss and suck at her delicate neck. Biting lightly, that elicited another moan from her as her head fell back against the wall, long raven locks flowing down her shoulders.

“Do you want my mouth on your cock or not?”

“Did I say no, you fucking brat?” Pulling Wonyoung away from the wall, you set her back down in what wouldn’t fit any definition of gentle. Before you knew it, she dropped to her knees in front of you, and her hands began sliding up and down the legs of your pants.

Wonyoung looked nothing but eager on her knees as she bit on her bottom lip, and stared up through bright eyes that held lust, with her fluffy cheeks turning a lighter shade of pink. Before she did anything else, you tugged one strap of her dress as her eyes stayed stubbornly locked on yours. “Take this off first, princess.”

You weren’t so sure how compliant Wonyoung would be. The expectation would be not at all, but then she passed that first test, lowered each strap down her bare shoulders, and furled her dress down to her waist without breaking eye contact, which left her cute chest adorned by nothing but a candy pink bra.

In all of your time living together, you never saw that much of her creamy skin, usually covered up. That flat tummy, slender waist, and those small, perky tits only made you crave more, but you couldn’t let greed dictate your actions---at least not yet.

“Cute bra.”

“Thanks. But that’s all you get for now. Daddy.” The more Wonyoung used that word to annoy you, the more it seemed to fit, like it rolled off her tongue involuntarily and became less and less mocking with each usage.

Things moved too fast to comprehend. Moments ago, you were at each other’s throats, with your relationship being threatened. And now, Wonyoung proudly stayed on her knees, fingers playing with your zipper with a look of submission that promised something unforgettable. While she tugged your pants down, you saved time by discarding your shirt, smiling at how Wonyoung couldn’t take her eyes off your freshly exposed chest, palming your crotch while practically drooling over your body.

“You’re staring, princess.”

"Oh, I know," she replied, grazing your abdomen with her fingertips before kissing where she had been studying your torso, the softness of her lips on bare skin making your breath hitch. Her mouth left a trail of hot kisses along your stomach, and then licked a stripe up the crotch of your boxers just to make you twitch, building up more anticipation.

“You have such a nice body. I see why Yujin likes you so much.”

“Dashing good looks, charming personality, a high GPA, about two dozen other reasons…”

Wonyoung rolled her eyes and slipped her fingers into the waistband of your underwear, testing your patience, and didn’t dare let her eye contact drop. “Your dick is really hard, daddy. It looks so big, I can’t wait to see what Yujin has been keeping to herself.”

A quick tug later, and you were the first one naked in the open, standing in a heap of discarded clothes while your cock ached for attention. Wonyoung’s pretty eyes widened at the reveal of your cock, and she felt your erection spring to life the instant she grabbed it, forming a tight fist with all of her long, veiny fingers.

“Your dick feels so nice, daddy. You’re like, really hard. It’s like a fucking rock,” Wonyoung giggled when she stroked your length, running her icy hands across your swelling shaft, which instantly caused a bundle of soft moans at her touch. With her watching the spiraling pleasure in your eyes, every little stroke made you twitch between her nimble fingers, distracting you from anything else while she both pumped your shaft and gently caressed your balls.

“Fuck, you’re so huge. Look how small my hands look when I stroke your cock…” The way she said almost sounded like a whine, which given the source, wasn’t unexpected. As Wonyoung spent more time introducing herself to your cock, she planted a chaste kiss on your cockhead, earning herself another groan at your expense.

“I can’t believe you’ve both been hiding this dick from me.”

Wonyoung admired every aspect of your throbbing shaft, cupping your balls with her free hand while she kept a firm grip on whatever could fit in between her fingers. She tightened that grip and began to explore your length with her hungry tongue, mapping out your erection from base to tip just enough to get your cock wet, then took needy little licks against your swollen tip, claiming any drops that leaked from your slit.

“Such a beautiful cock. And now it’s all mine.’’ Then, without warning, Wonyoung parted her sultry, inviting lips, bringing your shaft into the warmth of her awaiting mouth and sealed them tight around your aching cock.

“Princess---“ you managed to groan out, toes curling into the rug underneath. The biggest spike of pleasure came when those glossy lips sealed around your cockhead, making your head tilt back in ecstasy as her warm, impatient mouth went to work. That lust-filled gaze kept you trapped as she sucked you off with her impossibly soft lips, slowly at first, drawing out every groan before bobbing her head faster, and focused on every reaction you made while her cheeks hollowed.

When Wonyoung felt your hips beginning to buck, she pulled you even further inside her throat, and her tongue began to playfully tease the underside of your shaft, driving you further down the edge of insanity. “Princess, my god---that feels incredible.”

“Of course it does. You’d think I’d ever be bad at something?” Wonyoung chuckled, flashing a confident smile as she painted your length with her tongue, then traced the veins of your shaft while enjoying the way you let out short gasps when she found your favorite spot. She flicked against it several times until returning you to her mouth, and you desperately tried to stop yourself from pushing into her throat---a losing battle before it started.

“You look so pretty sucking my dick, princess. That mouth feels---so---fucking---good,“ you groaned, and praise only had its benefits as Wonyoung reached for your balls once more, fondling them with the gentlest of touches and teased them with her slender fingers. Within moments, she found that sweet spot that you thought only Yujin knew about, which made every throb that much more overwhelming in its intensity.

“Your balls feel so heavy, daddy. Isn’t Yujin draining them enough?” Wonyoung asked, letting her enveloping lips slide with ease over your shaft, almost to the end of your base.

Quite the opposite, because while Wonyoung showered first thing in the morning, Yujin milked a massive load out of you, counting out every single time she edged you until you exploded in her hands. And then another one right before her first class, emptying you into her mouth while you ate her out.

“Do you really think that?”

“No, of course not,” Wonyoung said, shaking her head. “Pretty sure I could hear you moaning her name when I was in the shower. You’re cute when you beg.”

“I wasn’t beg---“ The warm mouth back on your cock shut you up when you hit the back of Wonyoung’s tightening throat for the first time, nearly toppling you over with pleasure. Your legs trembled as she worked her mouth with more fervor, keeping you buried down her throat just long enough to give you the satisfaction desired before coming up for air.

This girl knew just how to earn that praise. Her wet little tongue darted out from between her lips to swirl around the tip of your cock, flicking around in perfect circles around the delicate underside of your shaft, then combined it with tender kisses, soft licks, and hot breath to target that ultra-sensitive spot you knew she didn’t learn on her own. But fuck, it felt so good that you didn’t care how she found it. Not when Wonyoung kept you on edge and shifted her concentration to your balls that hadn’t been given nearly enough attention. She eagerly teased them with sloppy licks until she slipped them one at a time into her mouth, and kept a hand pumping your rock-hard cock, only to lick back up your length to swallow you up once more.

“Oh my god, princess. That pretty mouth does more than just complain,” you said, pushing your luck further than you had any right to, and you wouldn’t be surprised if Wonyoung left you in the middle of the living room with your pants around your ankles. Thankfully, she didn’t, and kept the train of bliss moving, determined to coat your cock with all of her spit and lip gloss.

“What do you think Yujin would say if she saw me on my knees blowing her daddy?”

“I think she’d say you should do a better job.”

“Asshole. You really want me to stop, don’t you?”

“No, but I can tell you’re not going to with how much you’re also enjoying this.” Wonyoung really couldn’t argue with that no matter how much she wanted to, and put that energy into keeping her lips down your cock, ensuring a constant, messy trail of saliva.

“I’ll enjoy it all day if it means you stay quiet.”

If that’s all it took, then she should have offered that from the very start. Because more than you liked to admit, her mouth drove you fucking crazy, like in a way you’d drop out of university and commit crimes to get a blowjob like this. Not quite like Yujin, who had a several page long resume of blowjob techniques that involved more than just her tongue and lips, but everything Wonyoung did was more than enough to keep you from thinking straight.

Your entire body jolted after every slurp and lick, and Wonyoung took advantage of how easy it was to tease you. Her magical hands explored your body, caressing your thighs, your ass, and anywhere else she could without losing her focus.

“Hmph. You really don’t think I’m as good as Yujin?”

That jealous trait of hers always liked to creep up, because Wonyoung couldn’t stand being second best at anything. You couldn’t lie to her either, because as good as she was at devouring your cock---Yujin would always be next level.

“No. Sorry, princess, but it’s not even close.”

You could see the disappointment in Wonyoung’s face, but she instead turned that discouragement into eagerness, moving her mouth down your length to swallow every last inch up. It only proved your point when she gagged after holding your cock down her throat for far longer than she was used to.

“For starters, you’re nowhere near sloppy enough.”

Wonyoung sighed through gritted teeth as she stroked you, placing wet kisses alongside your throbbing cock. “Then help me out. Make me sloppier.”

Letting out a devilish grin that plastered your face, you leaned closer and slid your hand through her raven black hair, yanking with enough force to tilt her head back, which gave easier access to that perfect mouth.

“It would be my pleasure, princess,” you said as you leisurely stroked your cock in front of Wonyoung’s angelic face, while her big doe eyes stared longingly up at you. It was enough to make you explode just by looking at those gorgeous features.

“Daddy---“ she whined as you relieved yourself by rubbing your swollen cockhead on those full red lips, using your pre-cum as a replacement lip gloss.

“Didn’t I say you don’t get to use that?”

“But daddy likes it when I call you that, don’t you? Daddy…” Always trying to get under your skin, even in a moment like this. But unexpectedly, that one word caused more damage than you thought, and Wonyoung had grown addicted to using it already, with no any pretense or hesitation.

“Want daddy to fuck my mouth. Come on, I know you wanna shove it down my throat and shut me up. I’ve been such a naughty little brat, won’t you do something about that?”

Wonyoung leaning into her brat persona was not something you predicted, but when she put it that way, what were brats if not something to be punished? It wouldn’t hurt to oblige her, given that she wouldn’t give up until she got her way regardless, but you at least needed something in return.

“I’ll make you gag on this dick, but let me see those cute tits, princess.”

An innocent smile overtook her face as she reached behind her back to comply, tugging on the clasp of her bra, heightening your expectations. “Okay, daddy.”

This iteration of Wonyoung, in this submissive and obedient state was far superior, and you’d expect her to do what you asked at this stage, devoid of any backtalk or snarky comments.

“Daddy, your cock,” Wonyoung pleaded, eyes narrowing while she gave the full reveal of her chest, letting her breasts free as you reached forward to touch them and squeezed each, flicking both pretty nipples as they hardened underneath your fingertips.

“This was what you wanted. Now give me what I want. Give me that cock, want it to fill my little mouth.“

“I didn’t hear a please. That’s what good girls use.”

“But I’m not a good girl. So give me what I want, daddy.“

Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t resist Wonyoung anymore as she licked her lips in anticipation---how could you resist a beautiful girl on her knees, begging for your cock? When her pouty lips parted, ready to take in your cock again, you wasted no time and plunged deep down her throat, easily hitting the back of it in one swift motion.

Wonyoung immediately gagged on your length, but you didn’t allow her to adjust as you repeatedly bottomed out her throat before you pulled out, watching how her lips desperately chased your cock. “Daddy, no. Don’t hold back, I can take it. Use my mouth like a toy---please."

A request you would easily oblige, but first, you used your cock to slap her pretty face numerous times before turning her mouth into a helpless vessel for your pleasure. Indulging both of your desires, you began to slam your hips into her face with a harsh grip on her head, tangling your fingers up in her pretty locks.

“That’s it, princess, keep that fucking mouth open. You wanted daddy to fuck your throat like this, right? You wanted me to make you choke on this cock?”

She nodded best as she could, and you loved hearing her gag and struggle on your shaft, especially when her eyes begged for more as you kept the weight of your cock stuffed down Wonyoung’s throat, defiling such a pretty piece of artwork, a spoiled, rotten, defiant brat.

The entire day’s worth of frustrations channeled into your hips as you carried out your merciless facefuck, with every punishing thrust leaving your cock dripping wet with Wonyoung’s slippery drool. For once, you had peace---no complaining, no more whining, just loud gags and messy slurps filling the room.

If only Yujin could see you now---(she’d probably say you weren’t being rough enough).

Wonyoung’s divine mouth felt amazing before, but nowhere like this. It was as if her mouth was made to be used, a pretty plaything for your disposal, a sloppy wet hole designed for your pleasure that struggled to breathe. Her innocent, modelesque visuals that won the genetic lottery became sullied with saliva, ruining her perfectly applied makeup, and made its way down to her expensive necklace before sliding down her enticing cleavage.

You weren’t sure how you were ever intimidated by such a tall, leggy goddess, when all it took was a little praise and an offering between your legs for her to fold like a deck of cards. Even comical, you could call it, and you couldn’t imagine how needy she would get once you had your fingers in her cunt.

“My fucking god, Wonyoung,” you growled, palming her head tight, fucking her mouth into a frenzy of gags and spit that sent you deeper into an uncontained spiral of lust. “Your bratty fucking mouth feels too good.”

With her jaw overworked and tears streaming down her pale, flushed cheeks, Wonyoung could only respond by squeezing your thighs she held onto as you pounded into her throat relentlessly. No longer did she resemble the beautiful, innocent doll she presented herself to be, but instead a beautiful drooling mess of spit trying to fight through her gag reflex that kept your cock wet and warm.

After one more strong thrust from your hips, you held her gorgeous face down at your base, ensuring not a single inch of cock wasn’t held down her struggling throat balls deep. Your fingers dug into her scalp as her cute nose pressed against your abdomen, and you watched intently how her eyes watered more and more the longer you held her there, refusing to give a single ounce of mercy.

Wonyoung let out a gag so loud with her throat consuming your cock that you almost exploded then and there, but forced yourself to hold on. As much as you wanted, you couldn’t blow a load in her mouth without at least getting a chance to see that tight, impeccable body bare naked. Despite that, you pushed her firmly into your crotch just a little longer, making her mouth fill up with spit and her eyes water even more so until you pulled away.

When you withdrew your cock away from her wet, swollen lips, Wonyoung gasped for air as thin strings of saliva kept your shaft connected to her satisfied smile, tongue flicking at your cock with a whimper.

“Don’t stop on my account. I can take much more,” she said, those tear-filled eyes looking on with determination.

“Yeah, but---I can’t.” Wonyoung let out a giggle before grabbing your cock drenched with her saliva, and jerked you off, every pump threatening to send you past release.

“Are you going to paint my face then, daddy?” she asked, tempting fate by planting several kisses on the top of your cockhead.

“Not a chance, princess. My load belongs inside your cunt.”

Needing a moment, you stepped out of the pile of clothes underneath you and helped Wonyoung rise to her feet, taking her by the wrist to guide her towards the couch. Nothing about her resembled elegance any longer---disheveled hair, ruined makeup, and a face covered in saliva was the ideal formula to put her in her place. And all it took was a cock jammed down her throat.

“Are you going to fuck me now?” Wonyoung asked, still recuperating from having her throat fucked raw. She tried to find some comfort in your eyes, but all she saw was your stern expression, leaving her to wonder whether you would make her feel even more desperate than she already did.

“That all depends on you, princess. How about you finish taking that dress off for me?”

“Yes, daddy.” Again, Wonyoung was just concerned about following instructions at this point, and tugged that expensive dress down off her hips around her ankles, kicking it away. Your eyes watched every move she made with bated breath as she laid down on the couch, and every last inch of those slender legs that went on for days stretched across the cushions, leaving one final barricade between your desires.

“Your body is fucking perfect, princess,” you said, joining her on the couch with your eyes roaming a path of creamy skin from head to toe, and you took in the beauty of her flawless physique, unsure where was most deserving of your attention.

“Thank you, daddy. Do you want these off too?” Wonyoung asked as she slipped fingers into the waistband of her skimpy panties that matched her discarded bra.

“No, princess. That’s my job.”

Only that tiny piece of fabric separated you from seeing that tight naked body in its full splendor, but you were going to take your time savoring that reveal. Such an impeccable body like Wonyoung’s deserved to be worshiped from head to toe, so no better place to start than that as you grabbed one of her pristine feet and planted a kiss at the ball of it.

Spending as much time as you could without going overboard, you massaged her soft soles, then peppered them in kisses before you moved on to kiss her perfectly pedicured toes, each one painted with a black polish that contrasted the paleness of her skin.

“You’re kissing my feet?” Wonyoung asked, almost incredulous in her tone, but showed no signs of discomfort.

“Why wouldn’t I be? They’re very pretty. Just like the rest of you.”

“I…just didn’t know that was your thing. You know, I’ve had guys pay me to do this before. You’re much better at it.”

“Every part of you is my thing. I just wanna touch and taste your entire body.”

With a flushed glow returning back to her cheeks, you continued pressing kisses all over Wonyoung’s feet, and slid your lips into her delicate arches, not missing a spot. As you slowly worked your way up, you ran your hands up her creamy legs that could be considered a work of art on their own, and gave them the proper attention they deserved, kissing in between gentle caresses until you stopped just shy of her clothed center.

Wonyoung drew in a heavy breath as your fingers grazed over her panties, and whenever you pressed into her core, you could feel hints of wetness that she couldn’t hide. The gratification she craved wouldn’t be given easily however, and you planned on making her earn it as you gave her milky thighs a series of slow, deliberate kisses, making good on your word to taste all of her until they began to part like the gates of heaven, awaiting your touch.

You dragged out every moment, every chance to heighten Wonyoung’s arousal, which gave you all the time in the world to continue worshiping her body. One lick against the prominent damp spot at the center of her panties and she melted, begging for more when you licked a second and third time, the fabric darkening with every teasing lick.

“D-daddy,” Wonyoung gasped, but you ignored her and focused on tasting more sweet arousal through those thin panties, coming up with new ways to tease her while keeping a hand firmly stroking her soft thighs,

“Quiet, princess. Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“But I want you to taste me. Need your mouth on me, daddy. Don’t tease me, I hate it.”

Wonyoung bit onto her bottom lip, knowing she made a mistake by showing too much vulnerability, which meant you would prolong her pleasure even further. Still, she didn’t seem to care, even while the wetter her pretty panties became, the more inclined you were to build up that frustration more and more.

“Needy fucking brat.”

You would tease her all day if you had to.

“Shut up, just---please.” Who could have imagined that Wonyoung would ever plead this much, and all it took was teasing your fingers dangerously close to her pussy. As much as you enjoyed encouraging the needy look on her face, you much preferred to get rid of those useless panties, so after giving them a quick tug down the never-ending runaway that made up her legs, you rewarded yourself with the priceless treasure of Wonyoung’s gorgeous, wet little pussy.

Never had you seen something so beautiful, almost as much Wonyoung herself. The exposure of her clean shaven cunt transcended your expectations, well worth every second of waiting. Her thighs led a path to nirvana that your fingertips traveled up to her wet, glistening slit, daring to slip in but backing out at the last moment.

“Your pussy is so fucking pretty, princess.”

The flustered blush on her face had never looked so vivid when you traced her folds, collecting her slick on your fingertips and kept her under your control. Wonyoung still tried to chase your fingers, displaying her desperation with her hips, while her body begged for more attention.

“Daddy, please,” she murmured, but you ignored her pleas, continuing to torment, bringing her already escalated arousal levels sky high. “Need your fingers in me. Need you to touch me, need you to taste me.”

“What’s wrong, princess?” you asked in a mocking tone. “You don’t like when daddy teases you like this?”

Wonyoung shook her head furiously at your question, but all you did was stall further to create more anticipation, letting the quiet linger, which worked wonders to turn her into a mess of frustrated desire.

“Daddy. Daddy---daddy, please.” That was all you needed to finally succumb, and slid two fingers deep inside of her hot, wet depths. Wonyoung let out a loud gasp of ecstasy, digging her nails into the fabric of the couch cushions beneath her.

With just enough room for two fingers, you pumped into her enticing wet heat and wondered how you'd ever be able to fit your cock inside of her. A good problem to have.

“Daddy!” she cried out, arching her back higher than expected, and clenched around your hilted fingers.

“Look at you, princess. So fucking wet, and all it takes is a couple fingers inside your pretty cunt for you to stop being a brat?”

You weren’t putting in the full effort to stretch her out, but you could hear how wet Wonyoung was, your fingers doused in slick within seconds as you steadily pumped inside.

“Sh-shut up, I’m not that needy.”

“Oh, really? I guess I’ll stop then.” You couldn’t help but laugh when you withdrew your fingers from her wetness, hearing cries of desperation from at the loss of your fingers that you sucked clean. “Fuck, you taste good.”

“D-daddy, no---” she said, as you made a show of slurping her juices off your fingers. “Please put your fingers back inside me. It feels good. N-need more.”

“But I thought you weren’t needy?”

“Shut up, just---please, do what you were doing.”

You should have made Wonyoung beg more given she was so adept at it before you shoved your fingers back inside her warm cunt, but it was hard to waste time on that when all you wanted was that delicious taste of hers, straight from the tap.

In no time flat, you plunged back in knuckle-deep, but didn’t dare dream of adding a third, when two fingers became a struggle as is. She groaned as her slick folds swallowed you up and emitted those sweet sounds of bliss when your fingers curled after the apex of every thrust. You couldn’t wait any longer, and made your first lick up Wonyoung's wet slit while you kept two fingers buried in her, looking up every so often to see the pure ecstasy written across her face, as you inhaled her unforgettable aroma.

“Fuck, eat me, daddy, please eat my pussy. I need that tongue, just---” Wonyoung’s pleas bordered on demand at this point, yet you were happy to oblige her, and licked long stripes up and down her pussy, savoring the unforgettable sweet taste of her cunt as you cleaned up her wet folds,

Your mouth on her wet cunt acted like a pendulum that kept her back and forth between needy and domineering, whining with one series of licks, then grabbing the back of your head with the next. Either way, you didn’t really care which side she landed on, as long as you could keep the sweet, decadent taste on your lips and you didn’t let a single part of her pussy remain unexplored.

“God, you’re so fucking delicious,” you said as you grabbed hold of her thighs to draw her lithe body closer, then flicked against her clit before sealing your lips around it just long enough to build up pleasure, until you were right back where you started, making her eager hips frantically chase your tongue.

Wonyoung tasted like the most intoxicating mix of tangy sweetness you ever had, and just a single drop of her nectar was enough to bring out the ravenous animal inside you. Insatiable for more, your tongue drowned in her sweet juices, and you drank it all up while you wandered through her drenched folds, and made sure to not let a single spot go to waste.

Once more, you aimed for her swollen clit and latched your lips around it, using as much suction as your mouth would allow, with no plans on stopping until your appetite was appeased. While you devoured Wonyoung’s juicy pussy, her long fingers tugged at your hair, returning the favor from earlier, and urged your mouth to stay on her, to maintain such harsh suction that ignited more of her cute, unceasing moans.

“Fuck, you’re good at that, keep eating my pussy,” she said, with unending demand in her voice, and you welcomed the pain that came from fingers pulling at your hair, keeping you buried between her legs. Her hips began to gyrate on your face as you kept her taste lingering on your tongue, and every lick and slurp against her needy clit brought a new set of noises, while the satisfaction multiplied on her face.

Still, you couldn’t believe how good she tasted, and how cute she sounded when you ate her out. Wonyoung’s cries became louder, much sharper, but you refused to relent, suckling on her clit with such harshness that made her thighs quiver around your head as she desperately yearned for release. You swore Wonyoung might pull out strands of your hair, though you wouldn’t care when all you could hear was her ragged breathing and needy whines from her mouth as you did everything to bring her over that edge, making her squirm underneath you, hips bucking in a pattern that followed your tongue.

“D-daddy, fuck, daddy,” Wonyoung moaned out, and when you looked up with your lips secured around her clit, you could see her pant harder and harder as you tried to expedite the inevitable.

Nothing compared to how Wonyoung looked moments before climax. Your tongue swirled and flicked over the sensitive nub, then sealed around it one more time, harshly sucking on it to bring her to that sweet, sweet nirvana.

“Gonna cum, fuck, daddy, gonna cum on your face. I’m close, so close, please don’t stop, please…“

With another deep, satisfying slurp, you had Wonyoung right where you wanted, on a road to bliss, as her hips moved like she had lost all semblance of control. Her tight frame writhed in ecstasy, and you took advantage to plunge your fingers into her slick wetness once more, giving an extra dose of bliss that fanned the unquenchable flames in her core.

“I’m gonna---”

And with that, Wonyoung would get what she wanted, what she deserved, as you helped release all that built-up tension, a giant knot untangling. Her thighs squeezed your head in an almost suffocating manner, and her pretty hands yanked at bundles of hair, making sure she had never looked so unprincess-like than in that moment. You kept your lips wrapped around Wonyoung’s clit, watching her fall apart as her delectable juices spilled into your mouth, toes curling as she came hard, eyes shutting tight with your only focus giving her the best orgasm of her life.

Wonyoung rode out her high and then some, yet even when the intensity of her trembling thighs around your head died down, you had no inclination to stop, nor could you calm your insatiable need to keep your mouth on her pretty pussy for as long as you pleased.

You’d make a mental note to get the couch deep cleaned after this.

“Daddy, please, fuck---“

Making Wonyoung cum only once wouldn’t be sufficient, so you doubled down your efforts and suckled on her clit with more ferocity, putting your all into it so much that you didn’t even hear a door being opened, or the footsteps heading towards your way.

“I’m back home, oh.”

Neither of you gave the friendly figure that entered the living room a passing glance, too caught up in the moment of bliss, too involved with feasting on Wonyoung, drawing out more of that delicious nectar that already stained your lips and chin.

“Well, well, well. Looks like you two made up.” Yujin didn’t even flinch at the sight of clothes sprawled on the floor, or her two roommates naked on the couch with your tongue buried inside Wonyoung’s cunt.

“How was class?” you asked, your tone dripping with sarcasm. You weren’t actually seeking an answer, annoyed at having your focus broken before you returned your attention back to overstimulating Wonyoung, thrusting your fingers inside at the same rough pace that matched your tongue.

“Class? Oh right, my class. I really learned a lot,” Yujin said, still keeping up her facade. Now wasn’t the time to question her motives, and if anything, you’d thank her later for giving you a chance to rectify things. If not for her, you wouldn’t have your face covered in Wonyoung.

“You two look busy, so I’ll be in my room if you need me.” Yujin scurried off with that puppy-like smile, nothing but a momentary distraction while you got back to work.

That blissful state didn't take long to return to when Wonyoung squirmed underneath your face, moaning incoherently as you brought her to a second devastating orgasm with ease. Like previously, when your mouth locked on her clit, her toes curled once again, and you lapped up her delicious juices as your mouth filled back up with her rich taste. You refused to stop devouring Wonyoung’s pussy, not until she rode out her second high, and only then did you give your lips a break,

instead giving your fingers a workout, a routine of unyielding pleasure that there wasn’t any escape from.

“T-too much, daddy! P-please, fuck, fuck---I'm so sensitive, I can't," Wonyoung begged you to stop, but you disregarded every word she said, concentrating solely on getting her to cum on your fingers this time.

“I don’t care. You can, cum again on my fingers and then I’ll fuck you.” A rare silence from Wonyoung that you’d savor, listening to only her whimpering moans and the sounds of her drenched cunt as you kept her filled with your fingers. Finding her sweet spot with such precision, it took only a matter of moments until she fell apart again, shuddering even more uncontrollably.

“C-cumming again, daddy, fuck!”

Looking on with pride, you brought Wonyoung to orgasm a third time, with her back arched high, head thrown back, and a different picture painted every time she came that you’d never be able to get it out of your head. You loved hearing the cries of pleasure she made as your fingers pumped into her wetness, taking advantage of all that sensitivity that made her pussy ache, unable to handle the overstimulation, but still dripped in a way that absolutely ruined the couch cushions.

“Oh god, daddy, no more. Please, no more, I c-can’t, I-I,” she whimpered with tears in her eyes, body shaking as your fingers kept pounding into her wet walls. You pulled away once you were satisfied, licking her folds clean and fluttered over her clit for one extra moment. As tempting as it would be to finger her to a fourth orgasm, it was time for your cock to get some much needed attention.

Pulling yourself up into the cushions for a more comfortable position, you didn’t even bother cleaning your slick covered fingers, admiring the breathtaking view that was her wet entrance, ready to claim your ultimate prize.

Wonyoung looked like a doll with her legs spread wide, so vulnerable and exposed as her small chest heaved while she recovered from her relentless orgasms. Her gorgeous bare pussy glistened, every bit of supple, warm flesh more than ready for your cock, and the notion of stretching her out set off every little twitch in your shaft.

When you lined up with her inviting entrance, there was a much needed moment of hesitation as you let the anticipation build much more than necessary. But when you rubbed your cockhead between her wet pussy lips, any urge to tease disappeared, heightening your arousal to unbearable levels.

“Put it inside me. Need it, want you to fuck me so bad,” Wonyoung begged once more, and you didn’t even make her wait any longer. One look into her eyes later, and you eased inside her slick pussy, letting out a guttural groan that wasn’t even recognizable. Despite all your expectations, the initial thrusts into her warm cunt squeezed your cock harder than you were prepared for, nearly making you double over.

Your hands gripped her tiny little waist, watching for every reaction while you plunged into her suffocating cunt that felt unlike anything else before. Wonyoung was a popular girl for sure, so this wouldn’t be her first time, as evidenced by how many times you heard her getting railed in her bedroom that you lost track, but god, it certainly felt like it.

After a considerable amount of thrusts inside that dripping heat that enveloped your cock, Wonyoung stayed unbearably tight. Your efforts did little to stretch her little pussy, and it seemed impossible to pull your shaft from her cunt whenever you pumped inside her clinging walls. You took it as a challenge to bottom her out, though it resulted in an almost instant failure, met with a harsh resistance gripping your cock that only added to your determination.

“Princess, I can barely fit inside you,” you said, making more lustful moans escape Wonyoung’s lips while you tried your hardest to fill her with your whole length. You had her stunning face cupped like you were holding onto some type of rare artifact one might be scared to drop, staring at those pretty eyes, and her pretty plump lips that let out a constant flurry of moans and gasps whenever you pulled out and sank back inside her incredible warmth.

“More, daddy.”

“More what, princess?”

“Want more of you. You feel so good inside me already, want more of that cock,” she said, and it put a smile on your features to turn Wonyoung into such a needy, insatiable girl, no longer capable of being coy with her words. With every dip inside her smothering heat, you could sense more desperation, how much she yearned to be stretched to the maximum and feel your entire length in her.

“Fuck me, daddy. You know I’m not a good girl, so don’t fuck me like one.”

Your hips sped up with that request, and Wonyoung adjusted to your pace as her wet, warm walls became easier and easier to fill up, further opening her up. “You really are spoiled, aren’t you? A spoiled little brat that takes this cock so well.”

“Spoiled for your cock. So just shut up and fuck me. Make me feel you in my guts.”

While you kept her sparkling eyes in line of sight, you pressed your forehead against hers, seeing the lust building that raced through her body as you pumped into her hard and fast, giving the intense gratification she craved.

“Daddy---“ she gasped out, one little word from that pretty voice held so much power, so much weight. “Deeper, daddy. Fuck me, deeper. You feel so big, stretch my tight little pussy. Need you to fill me with every inch.”

And if that wasn’t encouragement enough, Wonyoung started to wrap her absurdly long legs around your waist to draw you in deeper, clutching onto one of your biceps, and her skin felt so utterly hot against yours. “Ruin me, daddy. Come on, I can take it. Fuck the brat out of me.”

Even at her most desperate moments, she still had some dominance left in her words, but you had no qualms not to listen. Because while Wonyoung might have looked like something precious and priceless, you certainly wouldn’t treat her as such. So little by little, your hips snapped back, until you were fucking her like you should have done from the start.

Making every thrust count, you were finally able to fuck Wonyoung balls deep, and took advantage of the slickness from every orgasm as your cock slid inside her effortlessly.

“Fuck, daddy, yes!“ Wonyoung cried out, her walls trembling whenever you bottomed her out, which only added to the urges to seize complete control of her body. You dove into her neck, and could hear her breathing deepen as you tasted the hot skin found there, before tracing the outline of her jaw, which made her even more consumed by your lustful touches.

Now that you could comfortably bury your cock to the hilt inside her warmth without struggle, Wonyoung felt so utterly wet and unimaginably tight, while all that built up arousal drowning your cock really paid off, because now you were fucking her as deep as you wanted, rearranging her guts like no tomorrow.

“You’re so fucking deep, keep that up. Want you to keep fucking me like this, please---don’t stop, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” Wonyoung repeated, becoming more desperate by the syllable while you continued to feast on her body, eager to lick up all that porcelain skin. You couldn’t ignore your cravings and dragged your tongue across her sensitive neck, enjoying the way she moaned when you sucked on the delicate flesh before you moved to trace her earlobe, then nibbled on it, working her more into a frenzy.

“I need to taste all of you, princess," you said as you licked down her collarbone and down to the curve of her breasts, then climbed back up, lifted her slender arms, and buried your tongue in her armpit. You savored the taste as you greedily licked her up, tracing the surface to gather up Wonyoung’s delectable sweat, only rewarded with deeper moans while your tongue went wild. The salty taste of her skin tasted even better there, and to no surprise, it only added more to her arousal as you cleaned her up throughly, licking long stripes up one of your new favorite spots of her goddess-like body to devour.

“You’re so delicious, princess. I could just taste every inch of you for hours.”

Her cheeks reddened once more, and you were careful not to miss a solitary inch. Wonyoung kept her arms stretched up over her head, distracting you from the intense wetness and tightness of her cunt while you licked and sucked away at her flawless armpit, slobbering over it without respite.

Wonyoung gave no signs of anything but enjoyment of your tongue bath, even more so when you switched sides to devour her other smooth, milky underarm, as you peppered the flesh with little ticklish kisses, then gave an equal amount of wet, hungry licks. Truly a feast on their own, you lapped up the soft skin of her pits, nuzzling your nose in them to breathe in the unforgettable aroma. Your devotion to her body only made her squirm and whimper more, which only urged you to keep feasting on her delicious armpits, swapping your attention between the two, as you wanted as many different regions of her body on your tongue as possible.

Only after you thoroughly slathered both in saliva did you have your fill, and gave both one last lick while watching the aroused reaction in her eyes.

“D-daddy,” Wonyoung murmured, shaky and subdued, like she could barely pull the word out of her throat while your hips kept her pressed into the couch.

“Yes, princess?” you asked, planting rough kisses all over the untouched side of her neck that made her blush even deeper.

“Bedroom. Take me there.”

“Which one?”

“Don’t care.”

There was only one actual option, given that your bedroom involved a set of stairs and Wonyoung’s was just down the hall, so the choice was obvious. Although you’d love to see the look on Yujin’s face when you barged into her room, wanting to use her luxurious bed to plow her roommate on. Most likely, you’d be met with encouragement rather than being told to get out, but even then, you didn’t want to take the chance of disturbing her.

So down the hallway it was, catching Wonyoung off guard as you lifted her petite figure off the couch and into your arms as your cock remained buried inside. With her legs already locked around you tightly, her arms followed, wrapping around the back of your neck as you brought her towards the bedroom. Not wasting any chance to keep her bouncing on your shaft, you squeezed that tight little ass with every step, until you made it past the open bedroom door that neither of you bothered to fully close.

When you entered Wonyoung’s spacious bedroom, you had only one thing on your mind---the tight grip her slick pussy held around your cock. Now that all concerns had been set aside, you came close to knocking a framed poster off the wall with the force generated when you pinned her against it. But outside of moaning daddy uninterrupted, she became unable to concentrate on anything else but clinging to your body as you drilled her without zero intentions of slowing down.

Being careful wasn’t an option anymore. Wonyoung had you all wrapped up, with those long limbs coiled around you like a snake, but yet she was the prey. You kept her pinned up against the bedroom wall like a museum painting, and each thrust nailed her harder, keeping her begging for more, keeping her creaming on your cock as you rammed your length into the deepest parts of her cunt in succession, showing no mercy.

“Your pussy just feels incredible, princess,” you growled, as your fingers kneaded her asscheeks between each thrust, using the wall as a partner to help pound away and put this needy little princess in her place, fucking her harder than imaginable, knowing she could take it. Her back arched higher while every stroke intensified, and she used her moans to voice the insatiable hunger you could see in her eyes while you gave it your all.

“God, your cock---makes me feel so good, stretches me so well, it’s fucking perfect,” she said, as you shoved your hard cock into her without a care. You knew Wonyoung could take it, she could take every rough thrust, and she’d complain if you did anything less.

So your battering cock continued its assault on her warm little hole, pumping inside her while being squeezed so goddamn tight it drove you absolutely crazy, all part of the plan to ruin her perfect cunt the way she begged and begged for it.

"Daddy, fuck me, fuck me!" Wonyoung begged, but did nothing to silence herself, the repeated thuds her sweaty back made against the wall surely moving its way up the entire house. Without saying another word, you had her cumming on your cock, that slick honey dripping between her legs adding more fuel to your hips as you fucked her into a second, then a third orgasm, arms tightening while she held on for dear life, legs trembling underneath your fingers. “Oh my god, daddy.”

Like a delicate flower no more, Wonyoung endured your rough treatment with pride, and embraced the way you manhandled her body. With every pump of your cock into that engulfing wet heat, her cries of satisfaction grew deafeningly loud, and she became almost delirious from bliss, unable to keep her eyes open much longer. Not a single ounce of smugness remained left on her face, just pure desire and barrels of lust that increased the harder you fucked your aggression out, letting her ride through climax after climax until the harsh clenches became borderline unbearable to handle.

And you couldn’t help but be selfish, turning Wonyoung into an absolute mess, with no genuine need to use words anymore or anything but hot, needy kisses that did all the talking necessary as you absorbed yourself in the vigorous use of her body.

After every vigorous thrust, you could feel her hot breath in your ear, along with every whiny moan and desperate plea for you to fuck her even beyond your own limits. You poured your attention into how your cock felt whenever you speared her warm little cunt, and dug fingers deeper into the creamy flesh of her ass. But that wasn’t enough, as you spread her legs wider to take every inch of your cock deeper than you thought possible, all while every little gasp, moan, and repetitive thump of her back crashing against the wall became an intricate melody in your ears.

“Princess---“ you said, your voice lowering into nothing but a growl and drew another deep moan from Wonyoung’s lips following one more strong impale, then pulled her away from the wall as you held her up in the air, fucking her relentlessly while you enjoyed the overpowering smack of flesh on flesh by pounding into her desperate cunt.

“Need to fucking cum in you soon. Gonna fill your pretty little pussy all the way up.”

Waiting for a response wasn’t something you bothered with when you approached the side of Wonyoung’s enormous canopy bed with its pulled back curtains and abundant pillows, only fucking her petite body harder on your thick cock to elicit out more cries of nonstop pleasure.

From the start, the plan was always to defile her doll-like body, and while the idea of pounding her on the carpet with a fistful of hair crossed your mind---you’d have to tear your cock away for just a moment---an impossible task.

Overindulgent was the only thing that could describe how you were fucking Wonyoung, and even more overindulgent was how much she kept creaming on your cock. But you had no trouble keeping the motions uninterrupted, nor did you have any trouble supporting her weight, remaining face to face to kiss her lips as many times as you chose to until you laid her down onto the soft mattress in a not-so-gentle manner.

“W-wait,” Wonyoung said, before words turned back into moans once more. “You can cum inside me, but not here. Don’t ruin the sheets.”

You could barely mutter out a chuckle. “You can buy more, princess.”

“But I like thes---“

You didn’t allow any further objections. Instead, with your knees locked into the mattress, you drove Wonyoung’s legs up into the air until they neared both shoulders, feet left dangling, and folded her up like a chair, eager to sink in at a completely new intense angle. “You’re gonna need a whole new bed when I’m done with you.”

Now that you achieved the deepest penetration possible, you were testing the springs of her mattress without even giving a chance for her heart to beat, bottoming Wonyoung out into new depths never felt before. All that elegance shattered, left with nothing but the obscene view of those beautiful legs spread open so fucking wide you couldn’t believe this was the same proper girl you shared a roof with for months. Restraint lost every ounce of meaning when you kept up the relentless plunges into Wonyoung’s tight, tight cunt, pounding her into the mattress hard enough to make the creaking bed frame think twice about its existence.

“Daddy!” Wonyoung cried out, loud enough to echo throughout the entire house, no longer giving a damn about the soon-to-be-ruined sheets, just like that wet hot pussy that your cock pistoned into and demanded more unearthed pleasure from.

Taking full advantage of putting Wonyoung into this new position, you made a slight adjustment, lifted yourself into a squat in order to gain more leverage, then planted both feet on her silk sheets, holding her little waist with a bruising grip while fucking her so deep you were liable to explode at any second.

“God, princess, you take daddy’s cock so well. Such a good little fuckdoll, letting me use you, letting me destroy your warm little hole like this. Gonna fill you up so much, fuck!” You couldn’t help but let out loud, guttural groans at how good Wonyoung’s dripping pussy felt, throbbing wildly at how goddamn tight she clenched around your cock that ached for release.

“You feel so good inside me, so, so good, daddy. Can’t wait for you to cum in me. It’s going to feel so good, so warm. Just pump that hot load into my wet little pussy. Give me all your cum, give it all to me. Please, daddy---I need it right fucking now.”

Your heavy balls slapped against her puckered hole as you brutally impaled her pussy, and you could feel every little tremble in her legs, every last wet squelch as you kept Wonyoung pinned to the creaking mattress, making her desperate for one more greedy orgasm even before you even achieved your first.

“Fuck, fuck, princess, your pussy is just too good. You’re gonna make me cum so hard. Need to fucking breed you, need to just fuck my thick load into your womb and you’re gonna take it all, princess.”

“Yes, daddy, please! Fuck me, use me until you cum. Need your balls drained inside me, need you to explode.”

Scrambling for anything within reach, Wonyoung frantically dug her nails into her sheets, but you just kept plowing her into the mattress for as long as your body would allow, hitting her guts every single time with surgical precision. Her slick pussy lips gripped with violent, almost painful clenches, and the lewd expression etched on her face helped the inevitable arrive faster than expected.

Only a matter of time before you filled that perfect, warm little hole you mercilessly slammed your cock into, letting out more ragged breaths by the second. You kept your weight shifted to easily balance on the balls of your feet, and just stared at the deep pools of lust in Wonyoung’s eyes while she took it all, legs spread perfectly for breeding, anticipating your load with endless amounts of lust, begging, and cries for more.

“Daddy, breed me. Breed me like you breed Yujin. Empty those balls in me, fill me up. Daddy, please---just use me to dump your cum in, wanna feel it all in my pussy, please.”

The coils of her mattress screamed for relief, and the smack of your thrusts became deafening, mirroring the cries that escaped Wonyoung's mouth. No longer did you even bother to look forward, and instead guided your focus on how your cock pulverized Wonyoung’s insides, every strong clench a shove towards the finish line that she already had a rolling start towards. Your worn out hips were on fire, but it paled in comparison to the flames in your core, only able to be doused in one matter---and Wonyoung did just that when her wrecked cunt squeezed your cock in just the right way.

You throbbed inside Wonyoung like you hadn’t been drained in a month. With your entire length buried to the hilt and your balls firmly flush against her ass, you shared that final moment of relief, spilling cum into her pussy like you never had anyone else. Thick, hot spurts overflowed her cunt, setting off violent twitches, satisfied groans, and gasps of relief from your lips when you emptied every last drop into Wonyoung.

“Daddy, it feels so good. Empty it all, daddy, empty that cum inside me. It’s so warm, so thick, I can feel it dripping out of me, don’t stop…”

The tired demands from Wonyoung’s lips had you throbbing even more as you drove your creamy load deeper inside her, thrusting with your heavy hips with whatever energy left while you rode out the best orgasm of your life.

Nothing could compare to such bliss in its sweetest, purest, rawest form. Nor could anything compare to the satisfied smile Wonyoung gave when you pulled out, and your seed spilled down her sweaty thighs, making one more final attempt to ruin her sheets.

“No, daddy,” she whispered, making exhausted gasps while you took her small face in your hands, without enough energy to do anything but stare at the blissed out look in her eyes. When you collapsed, Wonyoung pivoted her body to the side, then grabbed your cock and guided it back inside her intense heat. “Keep it in me. Isn’t this what Yujin likes?”

You twitched the moment you felt that warmth wrapped around your shaft again, but embraced her naked body, resting your head against her bare shoulder. Trying not to make any sudden movements proved difficult.

“There we go, daddy. Stay inside me, just like this.”

“Didn’t you have to study?” you asked, remembering the thread that unraveled and started all this.

“What did I say? Stay inside me.”

“Fine, but don’t move too much. It’s still sensitive.”

Without even looking, you could see the smirk on Wonyoung’s lips as she did the opposite and rolled her hips, clenching around your cock to keep you from softening.

“Wonyoung---“ you hissed, and harshly dug your fingers into her hips to keep her from moving. “Stay. Still.”

“Or what? You’ll fuck my brains out again? Pump another thick load in me?”

“You think this is going to happen more than once? Not a chance, princess. I’m only staying here to stop that bratty mouth from talking.”

“You’re a bad liar, daddy. I know you love how my pussy keeps your cock all nice and warm. You’re addicted to it already. I bet you won’t even go back to Yujin anymore.”

“I think I fucked you a little too hard. Maybe knocked a few brain cells out.”

“Don’t worry, daddy. I won’t say a word. I’ll keep it our little secret that you like my pussy better.”

“Shut---up. Next time I fuck you it’s going up your ass.”

“Is that a promise? I’ve never done that before. But your cock is so big, I don’t even think it’ll fit there…”

“Then I’ll make it fit.”

And with that, Wonyoung grabbed your arm to swing it around her waist, finally letting you enjoy the sweet sounds of silence.

At least for a little bit.

---------------------------

A/N: I dedicate my first Wonyoung fic to the great, amazing, wonderful @friskyriskywhisky . Didn't plan on taking so long to put out a new fic, nor did I plan on it being absurdly long. My longest fic to date, but I put a lot of heart into this and hopefully it shows.

During the course of these few months I've reached 12k followers which is still wild to me after all this time, so thanks to everyone who follows and reads, especially if you've been there since the beginning 💞💞

This was supposed to be out on the 31st for Wony day but I'm impatient, so enjoy this early gift. I've really enjoyed writing this version of Wonyoung and plan to do more with her.

[cozage]

2k followers lets goooo!!! (Proud follower hereee!!!) And ive been wanting to request smth from you for a while now and i think this is the perfect opportunity !! Can u create some hesdcanons for sabo, law, luffy, zoro, and sanji (maybe shanks too?) where the reader wants to leave the crew/organization their in coz of smth from their past, making them have to? They could've already left, about to leave quietly, betrayed them unwillingly etc!!! Do your thing !

^ - ^

Angst to comfort plsss my heart cannot take anymore heartbreaks huhuhu

A/N: just did the captains for now :)

Characters: gn reader x Sabo, Law, Luffy, Shanks Total word count: 1.2k

Blackmail

Sabo

You were gone when Sabo woke up. No note, nothing. But you had knocked out some security guards in your escape off the island. So Sabo set off, trying to figure out where you had gone. He would go to the ends of the earth to find you again if he had to. 

Some people called it denial. Some called it insanity. Some called it pitiful. He didn’t care. He had been called all those things before.

But he knew you. He knew that you wouldn’t betray him. Not like that. He refused to believe everything you two shared wasn’t just an act. 

He chased you for weeks, following your tracks and just barely missing you at several encounters.

He was so close, and he couldn’t help but feel like you were leaving him a trail. You knew how to disappear. The fact that he could find you meant you wanted to be found. 

When he finally found you, curled up in a bed with shackles around your arms as you slept, he knew you were doing everything against your will. The two men who were guarding you were easy enough to take care of, and he woke you up gently. 

“We’re going home,” he whispered, unlocking your cuffs. 

When you realized it was him, you began sobbing, apologizing for all the trouble you had caused. But he refused to accept your apologize-you owed him nothing of the sort. You were safe now, that’s what mattered. 

After you return home and he’s certain you’re safe, he sets off to find the mastermind behind the whole blackmailing situation. He’ll never let anyone ever hurt you again, and those people need to be taught a lesson. 

Law

Your plan was to slip out quietly, in the dead of night. You had snuck sleeping pills into everyone’s drinks, and you were certain they would be out until morning. 

So your heart dropped when the light flicked on as you were stealthing through Law’s office to take your leave. 

“Y/N,” Law’s voice was steady and alert. “Where are you going?”

“I’m leaving.” You refused to look at him. He’d be able to see through you in an instant.

“Is that why you attempted to drug me?” he asked, and you silently cursed yourself. Of course he would notice. “This isn’t like you.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” you said through gritted teeth. “Stay out of it.”

“I know you enough to realize your hands are clenched and your entire body is tight, which means you’re doing something you don’t want to do. I also know you won’t look at me when you’re lying, so you’re obviously hiding something.”

“Just stay out of it, Law.” You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if he got hurt.

He suddenly shambled in front of you, and you couldn’t hide your tear-filled eyes anymore. He stared down at you, slightly disappointed in your lack of trust in him.

“We can figure this out together,” he reminded you. “You’re not alone. And we’re stronger together than we are apart.”

You let out a sob and collapsed into his chest, thankful for his endless love and acceptance, even when you tried to push him away. 

Luffy

Luffy didn’t understand what you meant by “leaving the crew”. Especially since you wrote it on a note.

“We’re all in agreement, right?” he asked his crew. “Y/N needs our help. So we’re going to help.”

Everyone was in instant agreement. A goodbye note wasn’t like you. Even if you did want to leave, they all deserved more than a note. 

Luffy made it his top priority to find you. They scoured the island, searching for hours. But nobody found you.

The next day, Luffy was the first one awake, and he was on the island before Sanji could even make breakfast. He was searching, determined to find you. 

When he finally rounded a corner and made eye contact with you, your eyes widened. “Leave me alone!” you hissed, and then you took off running.

He easily chased after you and tackled you to the ground. “You’re not leaving!” he yelled, pinning your arms to the ground. “Not like that!”

“Luffy!” you hissed. You both needed to be quiet, or he would be seen. “Please go! Just leave.”

“Haven’t you learned?” he asked, his voice breaking. “We’re a family. We solve problems together. You don’t leave notes saying goodbye. Don’t we mean anything to you? Don’t I?”

His big, sad eyes finally made you break down, explaining everything to him and how you couldn’t sail with him due to a problem you had on the island. 

Needless to say, Luffy fixed that problem immediately and had already forgotten about it all by the time the two of you got back to the ship. 

Shanks

“That’s a lot of supplies for a quick run to port.” Shanks’s joking tone was present, but you could hear that his voice held something else.

“Things to sell,” you replied smoothly. If you could get off the boat and away from the crew, then at least they wouldn’t be hurt in the process.

Shanks hummed, clearly not believing you. “Strange of you to sell your most prized possessions, yet leave the emeralds and diamonds we picked up from that other ship.”

“Shanks-”

“Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on.”

You thought about running, but a glimmer from the crow’s nest told you that Yasopp was watching closely. Time to switch to Plan B. “I’m leaving.”

You could feel Shank’s gaze on you, his heart breaking at your words. 

“I don’t like it here anymore,” you said, trying to keep your wits about you. “It’s suffocating. I can’t stand it.” You turned to look at him, mustering all the hatred you could. “I can’t stand any of you.”

You could see Shanks wrestling with your words, trying to decipher truth from lie. You had an excellent poker face, but unfortunately, he knew that as well. 

“Kiss me, then.” Shanks walked toward you, and you stiffened at the thought. “You may be able to lie with your words, but your lips don’t lie when they’re pressed against mine. So let’s see if you’re telling the truth.”

“I never want to kiss you aga-” His lips crashed into yours, cutting your words off. 

You tried to pull away, but you couldn’t. Your body simply wouldn’t let you. After a few moments, he pulled away, and you let out a soft whine in protest. 

Shanks grinned, the answer to his question plain as day. He was relieved to know you didn’t actually hate him, but now there was an actual problem to be solved. 

But he didn’t blame you, he blamed whoever put you in this situation. And surely they would pay.

[serpentandlily]

Untouchable II - Azriel x Reader

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand'sSister! Reader ✨

Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court's spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he'd eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on-with Elain, your brother's mate's middle sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that - more complicated than you ever imagined.

Warnings: angst

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII ➻❥ Part IX ➻❥ Part X

a/n: Thank you all so much for all the love on the first part of this story! If you want to be added to the tag list, either comment or message or send me an ask :)

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part II

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The minute you guys winnowed into the foyer of the River House, you were nearly tackled to the ground by your own brother. He spun you in a circle, greeting you as if you’d just come back from a war or something. You couldn’t help but giggle at his huge overreaction.

“You act like I’ve been gone for years,” you laughed.

“It felt like it,” he replied, giving you what you assumed was his best impression of a sad puppy dog—an odd sight to see on such a powerful High Lord.

He had barely set you down when you were scooped up into someone else’s arms. Luckily Cassian wasn’t as dramatic as your brother. He pulled away to hold you at arm's length, taking a sweeping glance down your body. 

“You’ve lost some muscle mass and what is this you’re wearing,” he chided in a teasing, affectionate tone. “Are you even still part of the night court, y/n?”

A scoff sounded from behind the General and you peeked over his shoulder to see Azriel standing there, his arms crossed. “She’s only been gone for three months.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him and you quickly pulled your eyes away, ignoring the strain in your chest. You jokingly shoved Cassian away from you. “I’m gone for three months and the first thing you say to me is that I’ve lost muscle? Can take the boy out of Illyria but not Illyria out of the boy.” 

“Damn right,” Cassian said proudly as you stepped around him, finding the rest of your family lounging about in the sitting room. “Besides, do my letters to you not count as talking?”

You rolled your eyes before giving Azriel a smile. He dipped his head in greeting, his eyes trailing over your form, but made no move to embrace you like the other two. 

“You wrote letters to Cass and Rhys,” he said. “But not to me? I thought I was your favorite.”

“Rhys demanded I write to him. And Cass wrote to me first.” You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. 

A muscle ticked in his jaw when he met your eyes again but he said nothing else so you brushed past him, squeezing him on the shoulder as you did, determined to not let his presence squander the confidence you had built up these past months. 

As soon as you stepped into the sitting room, a baby was pushed into your arms. You smiled at Feyre, pressing a kiss to her cheek in greeting and happily accepting to hold Nyx, your nephew. “It’s good to see you, y/n. Being on the continent has done you wonders. You look beautiful.” 

“Thank you, I’ve been immensely enjoying my time there. But I missed you too, Fey,” you replied with a wink before hoisting the baby further up in your arms to snuggle against his head. “And Gods, I missed you, little one.”

“He missed you too, you know.” You looked up at Rhys who was leaning against the back of the chair Feyre had plopped down in. “You’re the only one who knows how to make him laugh when he’s in one of his moods.”

You saw his words for what they truly were - ammunition. A way to guilt you to stay. The sad part was it kind of worked. If there was anyone you’d drop everything for, it was your nephew. “I think you guys did just fine without me.”

“Some of us did,” Amren piped up. “Others wouldn’t shut up about you. ‘What do you think y/n is doing right now?’ ‘When do you think she is going to come home?’ ‘Send me to the continent to check on y/n.’” She mocked, glaring at your brother. But then her glare shifted to the shadowsinger who gave her an unamused look. Your cheeks turned pink. Had she been including Azriel in that…  

“I’m glad you’re finally spreading those wings, girl. It’s about time,” Amren continued, pulling you from your thoughts. 

“Anyways,” Mor cut in. “Are you going to tell us what is so important that you dragged me and your sister back for?”

“I will, during our family dinner,” Rhys said. “We’re still waiting for Lucien.”

You couldn’t help but glance at Elain, who looked just about as uncomfortable as you did. It wasn’t that you specifically had anything against the fox. But he had been the close companion of the male who was the reason your mother was dead, the reason you had almost lost your wings and your life that fateful night. It made it hard to be around him without thinking of Tamlin, which brought back those painful memories. 

Conversation turned normal after that and you tried to keep your eyes away from the shadowsinger. Instead you listened to Cassian and Nesta talk about the improvements the Valkyries had made in the three months you were gone. You promised Cass that you’d go to training with them tomorrow morning. 

Lucien finally showed up and the small party was moved to the dining room. You took a seat next to Cassian and your heart nearly froze as you watched the redhead enter and make his way towards the empty chair next to you. You clenched your skirt in your fist but before he could take it, Azriel cut in front of him and claimed the chair as his. 

You gave him a small, grateful smile. He nodded and you turned away as Elain sat down next to him. Great. Perfect. Now you’d have to listen to them all night. Perhaps the fox would’ve been a better choice. 

Dinner was served and you poked at your food. Your proximity to the shadowsinger made your appetite minimal. You leaned your head against Cass’s shoulder, taking comfort in him. Cassian had always felt like a second big brother to you. And he treated you as such. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured to you, stacking more food on your plate. “You’ve got to eat if you’re going to come train with us tomorrow.” 

Nesta rolled her eyes from next to him and you covered your grin. You were about to reply when Rhys stood. The room quieted when he cleared his throat. “Feyre and I have invited you here tonight for a reason. Would you like to do the honors, darling?” He tilted his head to her and she stood, smiling.

You couldn’t help but melt at the sight of your brother and his mate. You were so happy he finally had the life he deserved. Feyre placed her tattooed hand on her stomach and your eyes widened, a gasp escaping your mouth as you realized what this announcement was.

“I’m pregnant again,” she said, pure happiness in her voice. “With a little baby girl.”

Cheers and shouts erupted around the room but you were the first to jump up and hug Feyre. You couldn’t stop smiling as you let her go to be embraced by the others, taking your brother in your arms instead. 

“Congratulations,” you whispered in his ear. “I’m so happy for you, Rhysie.” 

“I can’t believe it,” he muttered back. “Another baby. In less than two years.”

You felt claws scrape against your mental shield. 

We’re going to name her after mother. We’ve already discussed it. 

You pulled back with shock, looking up into his eyes to make sure he was telling the truth. Tears lined his eyes as he nodded at you. A small cry broke from your lip as you hugged him again. When you finally composed yourself, you let him go so the others could have their turn with him. You stood off to the side, wiping your tears.

You were so distracted that you didn’t even notice the male who fell into place next to you. “Are you alright?” 

You looked up at Azriel who was watching you with concern in those beautiful hazel eyes. You nodded, clearing your throat. “They’re going to name her after our mother. After Selene.” 

Azriel’s eyes widened and then he glanced at your brother, a small smile on his lips. You know how much Azriel and Cassian had loved your mother too. Had felt the loss of her all the same. You sucked in a breath and wiped away any lingering tears. 

Azriel looked back down at you, his eyes searching your face. Part of you wanted to use your daemati gifts, to take a peek inside his head, to see what he was thinking. But you would never cross that line. 

“You’ve got make-up,” he said, gesturing towards your face. “Here.” 

You went to wipe it but he grabbed your hand. “Let me.”  

He conjured a cloth napkin in his hand and gripped your chin with his other gloved hand, tilting your face up at him. Your eyes widened at his touch and you froze in place, your breath caught in your throat. He dapped at a spot on your check, just below your eye. 

You hated the effect he had on you. How his scent wrapped around you, his mere presence clouding your mind. Hated how you wished to step closer to him. This wasn’t the first time he had done something as intimate as this with you but those moments were far and few between. 

He was surprisingly gentle as he wiped at your face, his hand never leaving your chin even as his other fell back to his side. He stared down at you with an indiscernible emotion and your eyes bounced between his. Part of you wished this small moment would never end. But wishing and praying had never done you any good and the moment was over before you knew it. 

“Y/n? Are you okay?” Elain had made her way over to you and Azriel dropped his grip on you like your skin had burned him. You swallowed harshly, looking at the girl who had captured his heart in the short time she had been here. 

“I’m okay, Elain,” you replied with a little dip of your head. “Just a bit emotional is all.” 

She smiled at you and you wished more than anything that you could hate her. But you couldn’t. She had only ever been sweet to you. Only ever wanted to be your friend. “I can’t believe we’re about to have another baby around here. You’ll have to help me set up the nursery for Feyre again, y/n!”

“Of course!”

Elain’s hand rested on Azriel’s bicep and the sight made the dinner you had just eaten churn in your stomach. You needed to get away from them. It hadn’t been long enough. You hadn’t been away long enough to get rid of these stupid feelings. You glanced back at Azriel to find him still looking at you. You mustered up the will to give them a parting smile before dipping away. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Feyre and Rhysand had called it a night after some time celebrating but Mor had declared the night wasn’t over. At least not for you two. You hadn’t hesitated to agree to go to Rita’s—ready to let loose after having to deal with the heartache of being near Azriel and Elain. 

Cassian and Nesta decided to come as well. And then to everyone’s surprise, Azriel had also said he’d come which made Elain shyly say she’d come as well. Just when you’d thought you’d have a moment of relief, the Mother had decided to spite you again. Perhaps she was just trying to drill home the point that Azriel would never be yours. 

Mor passed you another shot glass and you chugged it before even asking what was in it. All you knew was you wanted to be drunk—and fast. You were squeezed between Nesta and Mor in the large booth your group occupied. 

Your eyes flicked to the other side of the table. Azriel and Elain sat there, both sipping on their drinks. Neither of them looked comfortable and you wondered why they even bothered to come. 

“I wanna dance,” you slurred, pouting at Mor. You shoved at your cousin to let you out of the booth and she chuckled, moving out of the way. 

“Take Mor with you, sweetheart.”

Nesta elbowed Cassian in his side. “She’s not a little girl, Cass.”

“She’s fine on her own,” Mor bit, backing up Nesta. “Besides, we can still see her from here.”

You missed the disapproving glare Azriel threw at Mor who rolled her eyes at him. The alcohol had finally taken effect, making you feel carefree. You let the music take over as you pushed your way into the dancing crowd. 

For once you basked in the attention you were receiving and when you felt large hands wrap around your waist from behind, you didn’t falter like you might’ve before. You glanced up to see a high fae male smirking down at you. He was handsome with brown eyes and shaggy blonde hair.

You gave him your family’s signature feline grin and decided to just go with it—anything to get the shadowsinger out of your mind. 

“Don’t,” Mor growled at Azriel as he went to stand up, his eyes locked on you and the male. Cassian watched with an annoyed frown. “Let her have fun. She knows how to handle herself.” 

You were oblivious to the two disgruntled bats at the table though. A few more songs passed before the male grabbed your hand and leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Come. Let me buy you a drink.”

You smiled and let him drag you to the bar. His hand slid to your lower back as you watched him place an order for both of you. He turned to hand you the drink the bartender made and his eyes widened as he looked at something over your shoulder. 

Your brows furrowed until that familiar scent hit you. 

“Leave us,” Azriel growled at him from behind you. 

The male glanced between the two of you. “Sorry, I didn’t know she was here with someone.” 

“I’m not here with him.” You crossed your arms, annoyed. The male’s eyebrow quirked up in amusement, looking back at Azriel.

“Well, it seems like the lady doesn’t want you here, pal,” he said. “So why don’t you leave us?” 

A sliver of fear crossed his eyes as Azriel took a step forward, his hard chest pressing into your back. “Get lost,” he snarled, his voice pure ice. “Now.” 

Your mouth dropped open as the male scurried off this time, evidently not wanting a confrontation with the shadowsinger. You whirled around to see Azriel glaring down at you. You pushed him away with a hand to his chest. 

“What is your problem?!” 

“My problem?” he snapped back at you. “That male was clearly going to take advantage of you. You should be thanking me for scaring him off.”

“Why the hell should I thank you! He wasn’t taking advantage of me. I wanted to be with that guy.”

“And he probably just wanted to use you to get close to Rhys for power or money—who knows.” 

You felt a dagger pierce your heart at his words, at his unflinching cold stare. “Right. Because no one would ever want me for anything else. No one might ever just be interested in me and not my connection to Rhys.”

“Oh don’t be naive, y/n,” Azriel said, coldly. Your mouth dropped open, tears started building in your eyes at his cruelty. But then anger finally started to rise, overpowering the hurt.

“Just because you don’t desire me like that, doesn’t mean other males don’t as well! I am not a child anymore, Azriel. I know exactly what males want from me and I also know what I want from them. So do me a favor and leave me alone.”

You chugged the drink in your hand before slamming the glass on the counter.

“Y/n, that’s not what I—”

You turned away, not wanting to hear anything else he said. You couldn’t bear anymore hurt. All you wanted to do was go somewhere else. Somewhere he wasn't so you could unleash the tears stinging your eyes. 

His cold hand grabbed your wrist and whirled you back around. “This conversation isn’t over,” he bit out but you shrugged yourself out of his grip. 

“Yes it is,” you ground out through your teeth. “In fact, instead of sticking your nose in my business, why don’t you worry about your girlfriend’s.”

“My what—”

Azriel turned his head to follow your line of sight back to the booth you had all been sitting at before. Elain sat there alone, Mor likely dancing and Nesta and Cassian probably off making out somewhere. Some guy was leaning against the table talking to Elain, who looked incredibly uncomfortable. 

You didn’t wait to hear Azriel’s response, using the distraction to storm off and disappear in the crowd—your first night had officially been ruined.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The last place you wanted to be today was the House of Wind, but you had promised Cassian and Nesta you’d show up for Valkyrie training and you knew one of them would come looking for you if you hadn’t. You could feel Azriel’s eyes on you from across the training ring but ignored him, keeping your focus on Cass. 

“Alright,” Cass said, clapping his hands together. He had just led you guys through a series of exercises and you could already feel some sweat dripping down your back. “Let’s move on to sparring. Pair up and get started. Y/n, you’re with me today! Got to get you back up to speed.”

You made your way to Cassian but were intercepted by Azriel stepping in between you two. “I’ll take over her training. The new girls need more help.” 

Cassian raised an eyebrow at him but shrugged and walked off, leaving you alone with the shadowsinger. You clenched your fists, not at all happy with having to work with Azriel today when you wanted to avoid him. You were still upset with the way he talked to you last night. 

“Come,” he barked, not even looking at you. “We’ll take the back corner.”

He strode off without even making sure you were following. You let out a puff of air. Great, he was in that sort of mood. 

As soon as you were within range, he tossed you a training sword. You barely caught it, taken off guard. 

“Let’s see how much you’ve regressed while galavanting on the continent.” His tone was cold, clearly as upset with you as you were with him. Before you could even get into a starting position, he came at you. You let out a startled noise, blocking his attack. 

You narrowed your eyes at him. Fine, if this was how he wanted to play, you weren’t going to be the one to back down. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You could barely catch your breath, evading another one of his attacks. Class had already wrapped up, most Priestesses packing up their things to go back to the library. But Azriel hadn’t let up one bit.

“Class is over, Az,” you panted, side stepping another attack. “Can we stop?”

“Class is over when I say it is,” he growled at you. He lifted his sword above his head and came down with an overhead attack. You had to roll out of the way to avoid it. 

“What’s gotten into you?” You snapped, putting some distance between you and him, trying to steady yourself. Azriel had never treated you like this before.

“You’re the one who declared you’re not a child anymore last night,” he snapped back at you. “So I’m not treating you like one. Suck it up, princess, and either disarm me or surrender.”

You gritted your teeth together, annoyed that he was acting like such a prick. Why the hell was he so upset with you? You had done nothing to him. 

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Shut up and fight me,” he growled. “Or surrender and go back to being coddled by your brother like always.” 

Fury sparked a fire in your gut. Since when did you ever ask to be coddled by Rhys? He had been the one that was overprotective, to the point of being paranoid. All you ever did was try to be the person your brother expected you to be, to not have him worry over you. You attacked him this time but he was quick to parry. You felt frustrated tears start to build in your eyes.

“Oh don’t start crying now,” Azriel snarled. “You asked for this.” 

“I never asked for anything from you!” You could hardly keep your sword in your hand, your body shaking from the anger you felt. 

“Because your brother caters to your every need.” He spat out the word brother like it was a curse and that only fueled the fire building in you. “He gives you everything you want, takes care of you, and still you decide to go run off to the continent, causing him to constantly worry about you.”

“Fuck you,” you snapped. “And keep my brother out of this. You know nothing about our relationship!”

He maneuvered behind you, using his free arm to wrap around your neck and pull you flush against his body. You were both panting, both sweating. You could faintly hear Cassian yelling at you guys to stop but you ignored him, too lost in your own anger.

Azriel leaned down, his breath dancing against your ear. “I know you’re just a burden to him. Just another responsibility that fell on his shoulders.” 

The breath was expelled from your lungs, your stomach twisted into a knot. A burden? Is that how Rhys truly saw you? Just something he was being forced to take care of? 

You elbowed Azriel in the stomach and kicked him in the chest away from you. He slid to a stop in the sand but then came back twice as hard. You tried to evade, tried to parry his attacks, but it was no use. You were not close to being the warrior Azriel was.

A knock to your wrist had your sword flying from you hand and you fell on your backside, scooting away from him. He didn’t seem to notice he had unarmed you and raised his sword to slash at you again. You let out a whimper of fear and lifted your hands up to block your face. 

The sword sliced down the middle of your palm and you let out a pained cry. Azriel immediately froze, towering over your much smaller form on the ground. His eyes widened, the sword slipped out of his hand and suddenly Cassian was in between you two, his wings flaring out to block you as he shoved Azriel in the chest—hard. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Cassian screamed at him. He shoved him again but Azriel paid him no mind, his eyes stuck on you still sitting on the floor, now cradling your hand to your chest as blood dripped down your skin. 

“Y/n…” Your name came from his lips, pure anguish in his voice as he stared at you in horror, as if now realizing he had gone way too far. You scrambled to your feet, fighting to rein in your tears. 

Azriel stepped towards you but Cassian grabbed him by the shoulder roughly. “No, leave her alone. Why don’t you tell me what the hell that was?!”

Nesta was glancing between you and Azriel in shock and when she started to make her way towards you, you magick your wings, unfurled them, and took off into the sky as agony ripped through you. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You had hoped to make it to your bedroom before running into anyone, but as per usual, the Mother decided to spite you. You nearly crashed into Rhys as you hurried down the hall. He caught you by your shoulders, his nostrils flaring as he smelt blood, before he looked down at you in surprise. 

"Are you okay?" he asked before taking in the tears still pouring down your face. "Y/n, what happened? Why are you hurt?"

"It's nothing," you mumbled, trying to skirt around him but he yanked you into his office. 

"It's not nothing," he said through clenched teeth, "You're bleeding and crying. Who hurt you?" 

"It was just an accident during training this morning. I'm fine." 

"Dove, please, I've seen you hurt worse than this and you never shed a tear then," he said, stroking your hair. "What happened?"

You couldn't hold it in anymore, looking up at him with tears in your eyes. "Am...am I a b-burden to you?"

"What?" he gasped in surprise. "Where did you get that idea?"

You shook your head, sniffling. Rhys sighed and pulled you into a hug. "Dove, you are not a burden to me. I don't know why you'd ever think that. I love you so much, too much perhaps. If anything, I'm the one who's burdened you with my incessant worrying."

You wished you felt relief but it just made you cry even more. Your brother continued to stroke your hair, holding you close. "Who caused you to think that?"

"No one," you mumbled into his chest. "It's nothing. I just thought—I don't know." 

Rhys pulled back to hold you at arm's length. You tried to avoid eye contact with him but he gripped your chin and forced you to look up at him. Anger was swirling in his eyes. "Tell me who hurt you. Tell me who caused this." 

You shook your head, not wanting to cause a fight between your brother and Azriel. His eyes glazed over for a second and you knew he was communicating with someone in his head. You felt yourself tense up. When his focus came back to you, that anger had grown into rage. You knew he had probably asked Cassian what happened at training and you cursed at the General for snitching. 

He stepped around you and stalked towards the door just as Feyre entered his office. She gasped in surprise as she caught sight of the two of you. "Gods, what happened?"

Rhys brushed past her. "Stay here with her."

Feyre's eyebrows narrowed in confusion. "Rhys, what's going on? Where are you going?" 

He glanced at her over her shoulder, his teeth bared in a snarl. "I'm going to go kick Azriel's ass."

And then he disappeared in a swirl of darkness. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Tag List: @kalulakunundrum @going-through-shit @thelov3lybookworm @tinystarfishgalaxy @cat-or-kitten @abysshaven @vhjlucky13 @polli05927 @nightcourtwritings @wicked-mind @mommyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

[fushisagi]

miya atsumu and the chronic lovesick disease

୨୧ ━━ ❛ what am i to you, atsumu? ❜

word count ⋆ 12.6k (12,607) genre ⋆ fluff, slight angst, friends to lovers, college au ━ gn!reader

the question comes to him one autumn night, surrounded by his friends and the chilly november breeze, asked by, who he assumes to be, just another nobody looking for money: what is it that you desire most, boy? the psychic asks, her saccharine smile forgotten when he looks into the crystal ball and all he ends up seeing is you. alternatively: miya atsumu is not in love. what the hell? who would ever suggest something like that?

warnings ⋆ alcohol consumption, mutual pining, denial of feelings!!! lots of it!! and with this denial comes some stupid decisions!!! author’s note ⋆ ive actually like never been to the psychic before so if its inaccurate im so sorry ..... it’s not really a big part of the plot though so hopefully u can overlook it 😭

o. Desire

This is a scam, is Atsumu’s first thought when he takes a seat inside the tent and finds himself face-to-face with a crystal ball.

People like this are dangerous — his twin brother never lets anyone forget it. They take advantage of an individual’s fear of the unknown and they make money off it. It’s genius, because even the strongest people can become weak to something as mundane as self-proclaimed clairvoyants setting base near a college campus.

Atsumu supposes he’s no exception. Even if Bokuto was the one who forced him to do this in the first place.

“Hello,” the woman greets, her hair pinned into a tight bun. “You’re here for a reading?”

“Sure,” Atsumu huffs, shivering when the cold breeze sneaks into the tent. He really should’ve worn a thicker jacket.

When he looks up from the table, the woman gives him a smile. It’s analytical, as if all he needed to do was sit down for her to know everything about him. He fidgets in his seat, growing more uncomfortable under her gaze.

“So,” she says, clasping her hands together and resting them on the table. “What is it that you desire most, boy?”

 “I’m sorry?”

“Your greatest desire,” she repeats patiently.

Atsumu blinks before tilting his head. “Um, I’m not—”

“I’m sure you know,” she says. “Is it strength? Power? Love?”

All colour drains from Atsumu’s face. The psychic smiles wickedly.

Atsumu thinks this may be the end of him. He never liked it when people acted like they knew more about his intentions than he did, and it only took mere minutes before the woman figured him out.

His hand twitches. He would feel a lot better if you were here—

“Ah,” she clicks her tongue, “bingo.”

i. Strength

After a borderline homicidal game of rock, paper, scissors, Sakusa lands himself a new roommate.

Move-in day comes two weeks later and Atsumu sits in the lobby of the building, waiting for your car to pull into the parking lot.

He notes the time — it’s five minutes past 8:30, making you more than half an hour late — before grumbling under his breath and continuing to scroll through his feed. When Instagram notifies him that he’s all caught up, he exits the app and opens Twitter in hopes that something will be able to entertain him until you show up. He likes some tweets, retweets a few more, and terrorizes Suna before he grows bored at the lack of anything interesting on his timeline.

Another glance at the time. He scowls. It’s only been two minutes.

Atsumu debates asking Sakusa if he knows what’s happened to you. When he opens their message thread, he raises an eyebrow at how unbelievably one-sided their conversations are, but he decides that’s a problem for another day. Your absence is more important to Atsumu than Sakusa’s terrible conversational skills ever will be.

(He’ll bother Sakusa about it later).

He’s about to send a long string of emojis when an incredulous voice reaches his ears.

“Tsumu?”

He looks up and immediately pockets his phone with a grin. “You’re late.”

You adjust the box of donuts in your hands and squint at him as if his smile is as blinding as the sun. “I slept through my alarm. What the hell are you doing here?”

Atsumu gestures to his outfit. “What does it look like?”

You stare blankly.

“Seriously?” he scoffs. “I told you last night I’d help you move in. How’d you forget? Am I that forgettable? You wound me, I—”

“Shut up,” you say, shifting your weight. Atsumu’s eyes flicker to the sticker on the box, and he tries his best not to frown when he notices you’ve written Sakusa’s name in calligraphy with a heart at the end. “Of course I remember you offering to help because I spent my entire night telling you it was fine.”

“You expect me to believe that you can bring all your shit in by yourself? You look like you just rolled out of bed.”

“Thank you, Tsumu, I can always count on you to make me feel like I’ve been shot by Cupid’s arrow,” you quip, brushing past him to get to the elevator, and as if it’s second nature, he follows. “I can’t believe people walk around campus calling you sweet.”

“I never said you looked bad,” he says. “I think the dried drool on your chin is pretty cute, actually.”

“Whatever,” you hurriedly wipe your face. “Speaking of bad, what on Earth are you wearing?”

Atsumu knows full well you’re not complimenting him, but he decides to treat your comment as if you have. He beams, picking at the sweatpants you eye with disgust before walking into the elevator with you.

“It’s my mover outfit!”

“Your mover outfit,” you deadpan. “Disregarding whatever that means — those sweatpants are baggier than Kenma’s eyebags. And they do nothing for your ass.”

He smirks. “You were checking out my ass?”

You avoid eye contact, feigning indifference, but Atsumu’s known you for too long and immediately recognizes your fluster by the way you tug at the hem of your clothing.

“No,” you deny curtly, straightening your posture when the elevator doors open to show Sakusa’s floor. “It’s just hard not to notice when those sweats are ridiculously baggy. Seriously, are you trying to put something in there? I could fit a month’s worth of groceries in those.”

You’re walking swiftly, eager to get to your new apartment and end the conversation. The both of you are well aware that Atsumu’s more than capable of catching up with you, but he hangs back, preferring to watch you babble while he trails behind.

You clutch the donuts closer to your body as words tumble out of your mouth — a list of things that could fit in his sweats, including two jugs of milk and a family size pack of chips — and Atsumu can’t stop the lopsided smile from appearing on his face.

“Maybe a carton of eggs, too,” he suggests.

“Oh, I wouldn’t trust you with eggs,” you say sharply.

“Why not?”

“Are you really asking me that? Last month I lent you my blanket and you gave it back to me with a hole in it.”

“For the last time,” Atsumu begins, quickening so he’s side-by-side with you, “that was Samu’s fault, not mine.”

“…Alright.”

“Y/N,” he whines. “I’m serious! None of that was on me — I even bought you a new blanket! Would Samu have done that? I don’t think so—”

“Actually—”

“The point is,” Atsumu interrupts, throwing you a glare before continuing, “blame Samu. Whenever something bad happens, blame him. That’s what I always do.”

“Spoken like a true, responsible individual.”

“Hey!” he protests. “I’m responsible!”

You open your mouth to deny his claims, but the pout he plasters over his face is enough for you to give in. Too tired to give him something as golden as a verbal agreement, you opt for changing the subject. “Do you think Sakusa will like the donuts?”

Atsumu frowns. “Why does it matter? They’re donuts.”

You grow annoyed at his impertinence. “I want him to like me, you moron.”

His expression sours further. “He’s your friend.”

“And I won a game of rock, paper, scissors, so now I’m his roommate,” you remark. “There’s a difference between being friends with someone and living with them. I mean, would you want to live with Bokuto?”

Atsumu’s answer is swift. “Hell no.”

“Exactly,” you say, “I need us to get along.”

You stop in front of a door and begin searching your pockets for your key. There’s a pinch between your eyebrows, the box trembles as you struggle to balance it with one hand, and your clothes are a mess, but underneath the fluorescent light of the hallway, Atsumu can’t help but think you almost look angelic.

He shakes the thought away, squashes it beneath his foot until the remnants of it have been absorbed by the carpet.

“The last time I saw you this nervous was when you asked out that barista,” he muses.

You dig your hand into the breast pocket of your shirt and huff when you find nothing. “What are you implying?”

Atsumu stares pointedly at the sticker on the box. Your face morphs into one of horror.

“Are you dense?”

“Calligraphy, Y/N. I’ve never seen you write calligraphy in my entire life.”

“I was trying something out!”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

You smack him on the shoulder. “I was being thoughtful,” you grunt, softening when Atsumu winces and rubs the spot where you hit him. “He’s my friend, and that’s all he ever will be.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

Your eyes leave him for a millisecond, flickering to somewhere else on his face before returning his gaze once more. “Of course,” you say softly, “Besides, I—”

The door swings open.

“You’re loud,” Sakusa deadpans in the doorway. His eyes travel down to the donuts. “Are those for me?”

You hand them over to him. “Yeah, I didn’t know what you liked, so they’re all assorted.”

Sakusa hums in thanks before tilting his head at Atsumu. “Why’re you here?”

“To help them move in,” Atsumu grins, placing a hand on your shoulder and squeezing it. “I know you’re going to the drycleaners, and I couldn’t let Y/N do this all by themselves.”

Sakusa shrugs and turns to go further into the apartment. “Sounds good to me. I’d rather not have to press those nasty elevator buttons multiple times just so I can come down and get your stuff,” he gives you the best apologetic look he can muster. “Have fun, though.”

Before you can go on a tangent about how Sakusa should be more welcoming, Atsumu pipes up, “Yeah, don’t worry! ‘S all in good hands,” he nudges you with his elbow. “Right? Your stuff can’t be that heavy.”

Atsumu, not for the first time and certainly not the last, stands corrected.

Not only is your stuff heavy, but there’s much more than he expected.

With each trip down to the parking lot, his muscles grow strained, and he feels the fatigue threaten to droop his eyelids shut. But, in the corner of his eyes, he sees your persistence to get this over and done with, and Atsumu decides it won’t hurt to push through.

His complaining and wailing can wait until later.

After you place the last box into your new bedroom, you turn to him while wiping the sweat from your forehead. “Thank you,” you say breathlessly.

He goes to tease you, to say that you owe him now, that you’ll be indebted to him for life.

But what comes out of his mouth instead is: “‘Course. Call me whenever you want, and I’ll be there.”

Atsumu calls it a housewarming gift. Sakusa says there is hardly anything warming about it.

It referring to the group of boys gathered in the living room — your friends on good days, the bane of your existence on all the others — with their limbs strewn about and their soda cans sitting too close to the edge of the coffee table. It’s an odd sight for Sakusa to have this many people over on a Thursday night, but Atsumu insisted, and he caught Sakusa on a good day when he asked if he could hold a movie night at the apartment to celebrate your new accommodations.

You’re sure Sakusa regrets it now. He sits in his armchair with a permanent scowl, swatting Hinata away when the boy reaches to fix the crease between Sakusa’s brows. If looks could kill, Atsumu would’ve been dropped dead ten minutes ago.

He covers his fear with a grin, but out of the corner of his mouth, he says to you, “Help me.”

You snicker. “You’re on your own, dude.”

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that.”

“What? But Bokuto calls you that, too!”

“Yeah, but it’s Bokuto.”

“I have no idea what you mean by that.”

Atsumu only tsks, forcibly ending the conversation by suggesting to the room that they should all play a game to decide who’ll prepare all the popcorn. A chorus of agreements is what he gets in response, along with someone complaining about how he should be spared due to his gruelling volleyball practice, and another person expressing his sympathies for the future loser.

Atsumu prepares the ladder game, and after he’s done, he looks at everyone with fiery hot intensity, an expression similar to one he wears during a match. “Remember,” he declares, “whoever loses can’t complain.”

Luck isn’t on his side tonight.

“What the hell!” he screeches once the reality of his defeat settles in.

Osamu, far too smug for Atsumu’s liking, quips, “I thought you said no complaining.”

The noise that leaves Atsumu’s mouth is something akin to a pathetic but animalistic growl. He goes to protest, even raising his hand to list off reasons why he’s been wronged — someone must’ve cheated, or maybe everyone in this room has a ruthless vendetta against him — but just as the words are about to leave his lips, his eyes land on you.

You challenge him to complain with a look, and he suddenly gets a much better idea.

“Y/N,” he says sweetly, growing pleased at your uneasiness. “As the host of this housewarming party, it’s only fair that you help me, too.”

“What?” you squawk, leaning forward as if you’ve misheard him. “But you were the one who suggested doing all of this! How is it now on me to help—”

“Well, he wouldn’t have done this if it wasn’t for you,” Sakusa muses.

You stare at him in disbelief. “Are you taking his side? What happened to roommate solidarity?”

“You just made that up,” Sakusa replies. “Besides, this thing will go by faster if two people prepare the popcorn, and I don’t think Miya wants anyone else other than you.”

Atsumu shifts uncomfortably at the implication, and he involuntarily commits your surprised expression to memory.

(When he goes to sleep later that night, your surprise is all he sees against the darkness of his eyelids).

“Other than me—?”

“To make the popcorn,” Sakusa drawls matter-of-factly.

You blink. “Right.” You look at Atsumu, and he shrugs dumbly, unsure of how else to react to your sudden change in behaviour.

To him, you have always been easy to read, but right now, he’s not entirely sure if there’s a word for the expression on your face. He yearns to press a hand to your cheek to melt the malaise away, to be rid of it forever so he can see you smiling again.

Something in his chest twists.

“Right!” you repeat, more loudly this time, and startling the rest of your friends. You slap your hands on your lap before standing and grabbing Atsumu’s wrist to pull him away. “I guess I’m helping you make popcorn. You owe me one, Miya.”

Your skin is warmer than usual, threatening to burn him until your fingerprints are marked onto his skin.

(Behind him, Suna stage-whispers, “You are so whipped, Y/N.”)

Your touch disappears the moment you’ve both crossed the threshold into the kitchenette. Atsumu flexes his hand, trying to get rid of an urge in his veins he can’t quite explain.

“Hey,” you say casually, back turned to him as you dig through the cabinets for the popcorn packets. “Did you finish that essay for literature class?”

Atsumu awkwardly clears his throat and begins playing with the settings on the microwave. “The paper?”

“Yes, the paper,” you say. “The one I told you to start two weeks ago so you wouldn’t end up sending a half-assed essay two minutes before the deadline?”

“Why are you talking like you think I didn’t start it yet?”

“Because I know you, Tsumu,” you reply, shutting the cabinet with your elbow and ungracefully dropping the packets onto the counter beside him. “And I lost faith in your ability to listen to me a long time ago.”

“How rude. I always listen to you,” he sticks his nose in the air like a scorned, evil, cartoon antagonist, “I just don’t take all your suggestions. There’s a difference.”

“You make my life so much harder,” you huff, inputting a minute-thirty into the microwave. “I honestly think I lose ten years of my lifespan whenever you tell me you’ve gotten yourself into another dilemma.”

“Don’t be dramatic. I’m sure you only lose, like, three at most.”

“No, it’s definitely ten,” you say. “You worry me too much, Miya.”

The smile on Atsumu’s face, previously smug and confident, softens.

“Seriously, though,” you continue, jabbing a finger into his sternum. “The paper? It’s due tonight.”

He flicks your nose, snorting when you pull a face. “I sent it in this morning.”

“Seriously?”

“Hey! Don’t act so shocked!”

“Well, this is, like, the first time you’ve ever done something even remotely responsible, so—”

“I thought we both agreed I’m a generally responsible person.”

Your silence is enough of a response.

Atsumu gasps just as the microwave beeps, allowing you to ignore his stunned expression in order to begin preparing another bag of kernels.

“Give me one reason—”

“The blanket—”

“—that isn’t the blanket,” he says sourly. “That doesn’t count. I told you that was Samu’s fault, not mine.”

“Do you want a list? Because I have one.”

“Are you serious or are you just fucking with me?”

“Osamu and I have a Google Doc.”

Another gasp. You roll your eyes.

“Now you’re in kahoots with my brother? What’s next? Planning my downfall with Suna?”

“I’m sure he’s fine doing that himself without my help.”

He whines, stomping his foot when you only stare back in amusement. “Don’t be so unrepentant, Y/N!”

You dump the contents of the hot popcorn bags into a large bowl for everyone to share. “Unrepentant? Was that the word on your word-of-the-day calendar?”

“Shut up. You know only Kuroo has lame stuff like that,” Atsumu grumbles, throwing the last popcorn packet into the faulty brick of power you and Sakusa call a microwave. “I used it in my essay. Thesauruses are a godsend. It really came in handy when I was writing about the flower symbolism in the book. Y’know what’s even better, though? SparkNotes.”

You tilt your head, studying Atsumu with furrowed eyebrows. “Huh.”

“What d’you mean huh?”

“Nothing,” you say innocently. “I just didn’t think you’d choose that essay topic, that’s all.”

“It was the easiest one,” he states. You hum in agreement, but he can sense you falling into a state of pondering before it even happens, so he lightly pokes your shoulder in hopes it’ll be enough to keep you from drifting too far from his reach. “Why, what did you think I picked?”

He can tell you’re debating what to tell him, letting a few seconds pass before you give in. “I thought you’d do the one that centred more around…” you trail off, clenching and unclenching your jaw, “the love aspect of it all.”

He blinks. “Why?”

Childishly, you retort, “Why not?”

Atsumu licks his lips. “Well, you’re always telling me to write what I know. And I may not know a whole lot about flowers, but I know more about those than, y’know, love.”

Something passes over your face, the same thing he saw when Sakusa said something — implied something — in the living room. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he answers. “I’ve had relationships, sure, but none that made me feel anything like— like that.”

You drum your fingers against the bowl. “None at all?”

“None at all.”

You click your tongue and stare at the microwave. Its buzz has become more prominent in your silence, a mocking hum hanging over the air as you contemplate and Atsumu stares, waiting impatiently for a word to slip past your lips.

But there’s nothing. Instead, the microwave beeps again, indicating that the last of the popcorn is ready.

“That’s good to know,” you say lightly. At least, that’s what you attempt, but you sound different, like a parasite has found solace in your vocal cords and fiddled with everything Atsumu’s familiar with.

“It is?”

“Yeah,” you nod, handing the bowl over to him. Popcorn threatens to spill but Atsumu can’t bring himself to care. “Hey, be careful. What, is it too heavy? Are you too weak to carry it?”

“It’s popcorn,” Atsumu rasps.

You eye him oddly, as if he’s the one whose behaviour should be examined under a microscope. “Don’t spill it everywhere. Sakusa’ll get pissed, and we’re already pushing it with this movie night thing.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Of course,” you agree. “But if you need me—”

“I know,” he interjects.

Simple promises are often uttered during private moments between you and Atsumu — an oath to be there for the other, to stand by their side no matter what. The words soothe him when they’re said aloud; he knows, underneath all the teasing and the bickering and the irritated eyerolls, is your pinky and his, intertwined.

And despite the voice in his head taunting him about a secret he’s unaware of, he allows the promise to enchant him.

I’ll be there for you.

“Do you need help?”

Atsumu grunts, adjusting your arm around his neck as he opens the car door. “No, I’m fine.”

“Thanks for picking them up,” Aran says, voice loud above the frat house’s music, “I know you were tired from practice, but—”

“It’s fine. I probably would’ve killed you if you didn’t call me, anyway.”

“Osamu said you’d say that.”

Atsumu expertly brushes off the statement, gently ushering you into the passenger’s seat and putting your seatbelt on with gentle fingers. Behind him, Aran watches the movements with thoughtful eyes and a quirk of his eyebrows.

“The last time they got this drunk was at the fall festival last year,” he muses. “For your sake, I hope it doesn’t happen again.”

“What does that mean?”

“Hm?”

“For your sake,” Atsumu echoes, turning to face Aran once the door’s been shut and he’s made sure you’re sleeping soundlessly with your head resting against the cold window. Atsumu stands pin-straight, his posture contrasting the way Aran stands opposite him, relaxed with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “What’s that mean?”

Aran laughs, like he’s unsure if this is a serious question. “Well, I mean… they’re always asking for you whenever they get drunk like this.”

“I guess so, yeah.”

“That’s why you got here in record time, right?” Off Atsumu’s questioning gaze, Aran continues, “I called you five minutes ago, and your place is a fifteen-minute drive away. And you’re not in your pajamas, even though you said you’d change into them the moment you got home.”

“I was in the area,” Atsumu says weakly.

“Doing what?”

“Getting dinner.”

“Why didn’t you just get something delivered to your apartment?”

“Is it illegal to want to pick up the food myself?”

Aran raises his hands up in defence. “No, it’s not, but it’s also not illegal to say you knew this would happen,” he shrugs. “You knew they’d need you Atsumu, so you came. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Before Atsumu can force a response from his throat, Aran has already slipped back into the party, leaving Atsumu alone on the street. With an annoyed huff, he stomps to the driver’s side, muttering irked questions under his breath about what Aran could possibly mean. He opens the door with more aggression than necessary, only softening when he sees you stir underneath the jacket he’s draped over you to keep you warm.

He unlocks his phone when he feels a buzz in his pocket.

[00:30] Atsumu: are you still awake?

[00:48] Sakusa: Yes. Why?

Atsumu knows that your apartment’s farther from here than his, and he’s sure that by the time he arrives, Sakusa won’t answer the door because he’ll grow tired of Atsumu’s lack of response and go to bed.

The decision is made when he takes a right instead of a left, when he pulls into a parking lot that isn’t yours, when he carries your body up the stairwell and into his bed with ease.

Everything else comes as routine. He tucks the blanket under your chin, moves the glass of water so it’s too far for you to accidentally knock over in the morning, and leaves a change of clothes at the foot of the bed.

Atsumu likes routine. He likes the predictability of it all.

A groggy voice stops him from leaving the room.

“Tsumu?”

“Hey,” he whispers, crouching so he’s eye-level with you. “I hope you don’t mind I brought you back here.”

You blink sleepily at him, too inebriated and fatigued to acknowledge his words. “You’re a really good person, y’know,” you say languidly.

He smiles, amused. “Really?”

“Yeah. Thank you for picking me up.”

“It’s nothing,” he murmurs.

“It’s not.”

“I’m sure you would’ve been fine without me. Omi could’ve picked you up, couldn’t he? Samu could’ve, too.”

“I know, but you’re the one who always does,” you respond, nuzzling further into the pillow. “You’ve—you’ve helped me a lot.”

You shakily reach a hand to his face, playing with the strands of hair that fall to his forehead. He relaxes, eyelids growing heavy at the feeling of your featherlike touch against his cool skin.

“You’ve brightened up my life, I think,” your voice is muffled, but it rings in Atsumu’s ears clear as day, almost as loud as his quickening heart rate. “I appreciate you a lot more than you know.”

ii. Power

He watches with bated breath as the ball cuts through the air while gravity begins to pull Hinata back to Earth. Everything unfolds in slow motion; everything has faded into white noise.

With a slam, the volleyball connects with the ground, and it’s only when he’s pulled into a hug does the reverie shatter. Like being hauled out from underwater, the roars of the crowd flood his ears as Bokuto begins jumping on the balls of his feet and Hinata comes rushing over to them with a triumphant shout.

On the other side of Bokuto, Sakusa smiles, rolling his eyes fondly when Hinata and Bokuto begin making post-game plans to celebrate their victory. Atsumu, on the other hand, is uncharacteristically silent as he searches the bleachers with a cloudy look in his eyes.

He’s snapped out of it once again when Bokuto tugs on his wrist so they can go and listen to what their coach has to say.

Atsumu isn’t a stranger to winning — he used to get drunk on this sort of stuff, the exhilarating rush that shot through his veins after every successful game. He basks in the crowd’s excitement and admiration, because to be fawned over is the closest to love he’s ever been (if he could even call it that), but once the adrenaline cuts him off and he’s left alone in the locker room, it all fizzles out.

Something’s missing at the end of all this. Usually, the void in his chest is insignificant enough for him to brush off. However, today is different.

It’s abnormal for the power of the win to dwindle into nothingness only minutes after the game ends, but the blue moon has risen tonight, and now everything feels weird. The cheers aren’t enough to keep him from searching the gymnasium for a familiar face, and he itches to get to his phone in the locker room when he can’t find who he’s looking for.

“Why do you look like we’ve lost?” Bokuto asks. “C’mon, man! Smile! We just won! Aren’t you happy?”

“Of course I am,” Atsumu grunts.

(But…)

But.

The adrenaline shoots through him again when a voice he knows all too well catches his attention over the noise.

“Hey!” you rush towards them, dishevelled. “Before you get mad, I know I missed the game, I took a nap and slept through it, fuck, I am never going to stay up late playing Fortnite with you again, Tsumu, you’ve ruined my sleep schedule, but—” you huff, trying to catch your breath as you hand Atsumu a bag, “I’m sorry that I didn’t come. Congrats on winning, I heard the shouts from down the street.”

Atsumu smiles and peers into the bag. “What is this?”

“Mochi,” you answer. “A celebratory gift for my favourite setter.”

“I’m the only setter you know.”

“Which is why you’re my favourite.”

Atsumu snorts but hugs the bag to his chest, like it’s his most prized possession and he’d drag it along to the grave with him. “Thank you.”

If someone were to ask Atsumu if he liked the pedestal he’s put on after a match, he’d say yes. Of course he does. He quite likes it on top of the world.

But you match his joyful smile with one of your own and Atsumu finds himself rethinking his answer. “Anytime.”

The top of the world may be nice, but it is nothing compared to being on the ground next to you.

“You know what they say. With great power comes great responsibility.”

“Would you relax?” Sakusa snarls. “You’re in charge of us for a day. Get your head out of your ass.”

On the floor, Hinata lays like a starfish as he stares up at the ceiling, cheeks tainted a bright pink hue. “I think power’s gotten to your head.”

Atsumu waves him off. “I think this is the best practice we’ve ever had.”

Their captain had to run out five minutes into practice — relationship problems is what he grumbled to Atsumu before leaving him in charge without a second thought, much to the rest of the team’s dismay.

“I hope you’re never put it in charge again,” Bokuto complains before downing the rest of his water.

“Don’t be dramatic—”

“Do you know how gruelling this practice must be for Hinata to be tired?”

“Give us a break,” Hinata pleads, shifting his position so he’s on his knees. “Please. I’ll buy you lunch for the rest of the month if you end our suffering.”

Atsumu pretends to ponder the offer and grows more amused as Hinata begins to twitch nervously. “Okay, fine,” he relents.

Hinata cries with glee, hugging Atsumu’s legs before pushing himself off the floor and rushing out of the gymnasium — whether it’s to refill his water bottle or hide until he’s found, Atsumu may never know. With a snort, Atsumu grabs his own bottle amongst the rest on the bench, promising Bokuto absentmindedly that he’ll go easy on them for the rest of the day.

“I want to have at least a little energy left for the party at Kuroo’s tonight,” Bokuto adds, his smile widening when Atsumu nods in agreement. “See, I knew you’d get it!”

Sakusa takes a seat on the bench. “Are you going to the party, Miya?”

“Yeah, Y/N’s forcing me to come with,” Atsumu says. “How about you?”

Bokuto answers for him. “I’m making him come!” he exclaims. “You’ll have so much fun, Omi, you don’t have to worry.”

Sakusa deadpans, “I’m only staying for five minutes.”

Bokuto waves off his iciness with a flippant hand. “I’ll convince you to stay longer.”

“I really doubt that.”

“Don’t underestimate me!” Bokuto huffs. He turns away from Sakusa before he can continue to argue and focusses on Atsumu. “It’s good that you’re coming too, Tsum-Tsum! Maybe you can finally meet the guy Y/N’s going on a date with.”

Atsumu halts, hand tightening around his bottle. “What?”

“Some guy from their Psychology class asked them out a few days ago,” Bokuto says obliviously. “I think it was the night you picked them up? I don’t know. I think he was nice, though. Y/N probably already told you about it.”

You didn’t.

Atsumu forces a grin on his face. “Right, they did.”

Sakusa studies his expression with pinched eyebrows.

Atsumu’s cheeks hurt for the rest of practice, a consequence of the cheerful façade he’s plastered, but the pain subsides — if only for a moment — when he sees you outside the gymnasium, carrying your favourite boba drink in one hand, and his favourite in the other.

“Hey!” you greet, handing him the drink. “How was practice?”

“Awful,” Hinata mopes with a pout. “Your boyfriend here was running it like the navy.”

You frown. Atsumu blanches. “My boyfriend…?”

“Yeah!” Hinata slaps Atsumu on the back. “Him.”

All colour drains from your face. Your grip on your cup loosens for a split second before tightening it again in panic. You look from Hinata, the picture of innocence, to Atsumu, who only stares back, just as bewildered.

Hinata seems to take the hint as his eyes flicker between the two of you in confusion. “Sorry, I… I overheard Bokuto saying you were going on a date with someone, so I assumed—”

“Date?” you interrupt frantically, arms flapping to deny the words that have recklessly tumbled from Hinata’s mouth. “With who— with Atsumu? He’s not— we’re not— I’m not— we’re—”

“We’re friends,” Atsumu finishes, saving you from your stammering. You look at him gratefully, and he can only offer a weak smile in return. “I don’t know why you’d think we’re dating, Shoyo.”

“Sorry—”

“They’re going on a date with someone else.”

You narrow your eyes. “What do you—?”

“Oh, hey,” Sakusa says as he walks out of the doors. He tugs on the string of his mask to make sure it’s secure before nodding at you. “Did you stop by the grocery store yet?”

Atsumu’s words are long forgotten when realization engulfs your figure at the speed of light. “Oh, no! I took a nap and—”

“You really need to fix your sleep schedule.”

“I’ll have you know I slept four hours last night.”

“…That’s not a good thing.”

“It’s an hour more than usual.”

The genuine concern is evident in Sakusa’s eyes before he rubs his temples with a sigh. “Okay, whatever. Let’s go to the store before we head home, I need to buy more protein powder.”

“Ay, ay, captain.”

“Don’t call me that.”

You snicker then turn to Atsumu with a smile he’d move mountains for. “I’ll see you later, Tsumu?”

“Yeah, sure,” he murmurs. “Don’t take too long to get ready.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you say, patting his cheek. “Thanks for agreeing to drive me there and back.”

He finds himself involuntarily leaning into your touch. “Don’t mention it.”

Your touch lingers for a second too long before you salute him in goodbye and rush to follow Sakusa to your car. Atsumu watches as your figure gets smaller and smaller, a smile on his face as you glance over your shoulder and stick your tongue out when you catch him staring.

He flips you off and makes sure to stick his tongue out, too, in hopes that it’ll make you laugh loud enough for him to hear.

(He doesn’t notice the mischievous glint in Sakusa’s eyes, nor does he catch his name slipping past Sakusa’s lips).

(But he does notice you tilt your head, lost in thought, before you look at him again, attempting to figure him out despite the distance.

He thinks nothing of it).

Just after his 9am lecture, someone asks Atsumu out on a date.

She’s nice and easy on the eyes; a little timid, but he supposes that’s just the affect he has on people. Big man on campus is what he’s always referred to as, until they realize that he’s nothing if not a goofball off-court. Still, the girl — Miwa is what she said her name was — doesn’t know that yet, so Atsumu gives her the benefit of the doubt.

And he says yes.

At 11:00, the whole team has caught wind of his evening plans, and Sakusa texts him to tell him he’s an idiot. Atsumu frowns, asks why, but Sakusa doesn’t reply.

At 6:00, an hour before his date, he shows up on your doorstep with a bag of clothes and a tie loose around his neck. His left pant leg is tucked into his sock and the other is haphazardly cuffed; his hair is all over the place, sticking up at the back as the result of a hair-gel disaster.

You stare at him with pinched eyebrows. “What do you need?”

“I’ve got a date,” he explains frantically. “I need your help.”

You hesitantly let him in.

At 6:15 is when the argument occurs. The reason why is something Atsumu can’t recall, only that it was something so small and insignificant that the argument shouldn’t have even happened in the first place. He thinks you may have been in a bad mood before he even arrived, but that doesn’t change the fact that you haven’t talked to him in the past five hours.

Oh, right. And the power goes out at 6:45.

He texts Miwa to cancel, promising to reschedule on a day where they won’t be talking to each other in the dark, but his phone dies before he gets a response. With a shrug, he tosses it onto the coffee table and makes a mental note to charge it as soon as the power comes back on, knowing full well that he’ll forget the reminder the second he makes it.

He should feel more guilty about the fact that he cares more about your absence than his postponed date.

Atsumu stares at your door for far too long before deciding that he’ll apologize to you — for what, he doesn’t know, but apologize first, ask questions later is his motto — once you’ve left your room. He’ll grovel and get on his knees and even humiliate himself if he has to, as long as it gets you to talk to him again, because God knows he’ll never survive this outage by himself.

(Also, you’re his best friend, and — Atsumu has never told anybody this — the last time you gave him the silent treatment, his chest physically hurt from not speaking to you that he vowed to never anger you again).

It’s 11:35, and you still haven’t left your room.

For the past few hours, you’ve been watching Netflix without headphones to torture a bored Atsumu, but the noises stopped about ten minutes ago, meaning your phone must’ve died too, so it’s only a matter of time before you leave your room in hopes of finding something to do.

Atsumu’s almost giddy at the thought.

At 11:50, he makes his move.

He hears the creaking of your door and your socked feet softly padding in the hallway. Atsumu’s always tried going to sleep early so he can hit the gym before it gets too busy the next morning, so you must’ve waited the latest you could bear with the assumption that he had fallen asleep on the couch.

Atsumu tiptoes to the end of the hallway, teeth bright compared to the darkness of the apartment, and his grin only widens when you finally see him.

You blink before scoffing, brushing past him to enter the kitchenette.

“Y/N,” he says, attempting to be stern but it comes off as a whine in his desperation. “Look at me.” You spare him a glance. Atsumu deems that’s good enough. “Listen, I’m sorry.”

He watches you open a cupboard and fill your glass with water. The seconds that pass by are agonizingly slow and Atsumu shifts uncomfortably when the silence drags on.

Finally, you look at him, unamused, and say, “What exactly are you sorry for?”

He purses his lips in thought. “Uh…”

Rolling your eyes, you turn to make your way back to your room.

“Wait! Wait,” Atsumu shouts, rushing over to block the exit. His eyes dart all over the kitchen in hopes the walls will have the answer to your question. You tap your foot impatiently, and it’s only when you go to open your mouth to tell him to move that he blurts out, “I’m sorry for eating the rest of your chocolate cake.”

You look at him incredulously. “That was you?”

“Yeah, I— wait, you’re not mad about that?”

“I am now!” you huff, using an arm to try and shove him out of the way, but he catches your wrist.

“Then I don’t get it!” he groans. “What did I do?”

You give him a once-over. “Well, what didn’t you do?”

“This is about the outfit?”

“You’ve cuffed your slacks, Tsumu. They’re cuffed. No sane person cuffs their slacks.”

He struggles to wrap his head around your response. “You’re mad,” he repeats, then gestures to his outfit confusedly, “about what I’m wearing.”

You seem to realize just how ridiculous it sounds uttered out loud, because you pout. “Not just that.”

“Then what else?”

You stumble over your words before you coherently state, “You’re going on a date.”

He frowns. “Yes.”

“You’re going on a date,” you say again when it’s obvious he’s not catching on to what you mean. When all Atsumu can manage is a perplexed sound, you add frustratedly, “You’re going on a date, which I don’t understand, since Sakusa told me that I didn’t need to worry anymore, but I guess he’s wrong because you came here asking for my help with looking nice on your night out with Miwa and—”

“Wait,” Atsumu interrupts, still puzzled. “What did Sakusa tell you?”

“He told me not to worry.”

“Worry about what?”

That snaps you out of it.

You open and close your mouth like a fish out of water. Then, you cross your arms over your chest, muttering out a response with feigned nonchalance, “Whatever.”

Atsumu protests, “Hey, I—”

“Where were you even going to take her?” you swiftly change the subject, and Atsumu decides that he’ll let it go — that’s what he’s been doing for a while, anyway, and another day really couldn’t hurt, could it?

“Dancing,” he says.

“Dancing?”

“Yes,” he responds, relaxing at the sight of your amusement. “I searched up unique date ideas and Google told me to take her dancing.”

“You should’ve just taken her to dinner,” you say. “Because you can’t dance.”

“That’s not true at all.”

“You were born with two left feet.”

���Quit lying, you’re only saying that because you’re mad at me.”

“I’m only telling you the truth!”

“I’m a good dancer!”

“You really aren’t. I thought that was established two weeks ago when we were playing Just Dance and you knocked over Aran’s vase.”

“That says nothing about my ability to—”

“Yes, it does.”

“I’ll prove it.”

“Yeah, okay, sure.”

“I’m serious,” he says, stretching his hand out for you to take.

You look at his palm and back up at him. “You’re kidding.”

“Not in any way, shape, or form.”

“We don’t even have music—”

“I’ll sing,” he shakes his hand. “C’mon, hurry up, my arm’s getting tired.”

Without a second thought, you interlace your fingers with his as he whisks you around the kitchen, his laugh loud when you yelp at his fast movements. He places his other hand on the small of your back to keep you from slipping on the tile as he leans to whisper into your ear.

“Any song requests?”

“None. You’re an awful singer,” you retort, bristling at the warmth of his breath.

“So, what are you saying? You’d rather waltz in silence?”

“Yes. And I wouldn’t even call this waltzing. We’re just sliding around the kitchen.”

“We’re waltzing,” Atsumu says firmly, daring you to argue. You only sigh, letting him pull you closer as you two clumsily move around the room. He sings your favourite song despite your insistence for him not to, humming the parts he doesn’t know and doing his best to hit every note.

You laugh into his chest, and he makes sure the sound is trapped in his ribcage so he’ll never have to go a day without it.

When the song reaches its end, you place your head on his shoulder, your breath piercing through his blazer and skin. “I’m sorry that I got mad at you,” you whisper despite the quiet, as if making your voice any louder will shatter the atmosphere. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“It’s okay,” he murmurs.

“It’s not, but thanks for trying to make me feel better,” you say timidly. “I guess I just got my hopes up.”

Atsumu tries to get the information out of you again, the very thing that’s been bothering you — and, as a result, him — for weeks. “About what?”

Your fingers tighten around his. “Nothing,” you answer, and if you notice just how much his posture deflates then you say nothing of it. “Can we stay like this for a little while?”

“Yeah, of course,” he says, rubbing circles onto the back of your hand. “We can stay for as long as you want.”

iii. Love

“You’re gonna get it in my eye!”

“Then stay still!”

“Just promise not to poke me.”

“I’ve already promised five times.”

“Then promise again!”

“Tsumu—” you sigh, slumping your shoulders as you meet his defiant gaze. “I promise I won’t get anything into your eyes or your mouth or your nostrils. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Atsumu narrows his eyes. “For some reason that doesn’t make me feel much better.”

You groan. “We’ve been over this millions of times—”

“Sue me for thinking you’re still mad at me.”

“I told you—”

“Sakusa got into my head,” he explains for the umpteenth time that evening, “he keeps on saying I’ve done something wrong, but he won’t tell me what, and he keeps looking at me as if I’ve committed a felony. His face keeps me up at night, it’s the reason why I’ve had so many nightmares recently—”

“Sakusa’s being a nuisance. Trust me, you haven’t done anything wrong,” you assure, your voice echoing off the walls of your tiny bathroom. “You have nothing to worry about, so stop acting like I’m trying to kill you with this face mask.”

He stares pointedly at the tub sitting next to you on the sink. “It’s scarily green,” he whispers conspiratorially. “Like, it’s Hulk-green. Nothing should be that green.”

“If you’re implying it’s poisonous, it’s not.”

“That’s what they want you to think.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you grumble, spreading the mask across his cheeks, ignoring his murmured whines about how cold it feels on his skin. “You weren’t acting like this last time.”

“You were using a different face mask last time,” he rebuts. “I liked the other one better than this one.”

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind the next time I go to the store,” you hum. “Maybe I’ll even take you with me, so you can choose the face mask. It’ll save me from your complaining in the future.”

“You love my complaining,” he replies quickly. “But I really should. I’d make your grocery trips so much more fun.”

“You’d get us kick out.”

“Would not!” Atsumu scoffs when you don’t even bother to hide your unconvinced mien and places his hands on either side of the marble countertop, trapping you against him and the sink. “I’ll prove it this weekend.”

You shake your head. “I’m not going this weekend. The fall festival is on Saturday, remember? I’m holding off spending money this week so I can buy a ton of cotton candy without feeling guilty.”

“Really?” he snorts. “You’re not gonna get wasted this year?”

“Definitely not. Last year was a nightmare.”

“You don’t even remember what happened.”

“Exactly,” you say, smoothing out the mask. “And you’re always taking care of me when I’m drunk, it makes me feel bad.”

Despite his proximity, you don’t seem to feel the intensity of his stare. His demeanour has softened in the past five minutes, smiling warmly at the pinch between your brows and the way your lips have twisted into a focussed frown.

This has happened countless times before — on all the other self-care nights, Atsumu finds himself in the four walls of your bathroom, free to admire you all he wants without the company of his friends and their teasing remarks. Though he’d never admit it, he prefers the quiet, because here, the both of you aren’t brushing off comments made about your relationship; here, it’s just you and him, pressed against the bathroom sink, worries left behind on the other side of the door.

Here, it’s so peaceful that Atsumu believes, for a few short moments, that everything will be okay.

“Don’t feel bad,” he says breathily, dreading the moment when you finish and he’s forced to pull away. “I like taking care of you.”

“You’re required to do it because we’re friends.”

“No, I like doing it,” he says again, ingraining the statement into your brain so it’ll stay there forever. “You don’t see me letting Bokuto or Hinata — hell, even Suna, stay over at my apartment and sleep in my bed.”

You pause your movements, eyes flickering to his. “What does that make me then?”

“Huh?”

“Bokuto, Hinata, and Suna are your friends, but you don’t pick them up from parties and let them say the night at your place.”

“Well, that’s cause I can’t be bothered most of the time, since they’re usually going to on-campus parties and my place is so far from—”

“But you picked me up a few nights ago,” you interrupt, and Atsumu is drawn to the determination in your irises more than he wants to admit. “And a couple weeks ago too, I think. You’ve been picking me up before I even moved in with Sakusa, and my old place was thirty minutes away.”

“What are you saying, Y/N?”

“What am I to you, Atsumu?”

He grips the countertop so tightly his knuckles are as white as the marble. His heart drums against his ribcage, so loud in the cavity of his chest that he wonders if you can hear it too.

“You’re my friend.”

“Like Bokuto? Or Hinata, or Su—?”

“No, of course not,” he scoffs. Comparing yourself to them is absurd. “It’s diff— you’re different.”

“Different how?”

Suddenly, everything feels stuffy. Tension floods the room until he’s neck-deep in it and drowning, all while you stare up at him, awaiting an answer.

“I—”

Someone knocks loudly on the door.

“Hey!” Bokuto. “Is someone in here?”

You don’t answer. The ball is in Atsumu’s court.

There’s an answer that lingers in his mind, one that he wants to give you despite the risk that it could destroy everything he’s ever known. But as his hesitation grows, the ring buoy that is Bokuto’s voice becomes more tempting — something to save him from this situation where he’s flailing in hope and what-ifs. Something to save him from your want and his dread and all the other sharp objects that could slice your friendship in two.

(Aren’t you the one who’s always saying he should be more responsible?

Doing this is the most responsible thing he could do, isn’t it?)

“We’ll be right out,” he responds, and just as he replies, you pull away from him in defeat.

Everything in his body tightens.

You turn to wash your hands. Through the mirror, he can see you blink rapidly and clench your jaw.

When he finally goes to exit, Bokuto stands impatiently on the other side. His eyebrows rise when he spots the hairband keeping Atsumu’s blond strands out of his face.

“That’s cute,” Bokuto coos, poking at the heart that sticks out from the material.

“Thanks,” Atsumu says, adjusting the band and letting his fingers brush against the plush heart. “It’s Y/N’s.”

The sun had set a long time ago.

In its absence is the moon, its light barely sufficient to lead you and Atsumu home — home being his apartment, but you’ve been there so much it might as well be your own. It’s alright, though, he thinks; your arm is interlinked with his, and that’s all he’ll ever need to guide him.

Your hips bump his as you both walk down the sidewalk, the air a melody of your laughs as he retells a childhood story about him and Osamu. You fail to refrain the teasing comments that fall from your lips about how he’s always been a troublemaker, long before you ever met him.

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” he’d said a couple minutes ago. “Since I’m your favourite and everything.”

You smile, and every time you do so, the more he believes that the bathroom incident has been forgotten.

But Atsumu’s not stupid. He senses your discomfort — it’s miniscule, but it’s there, and deep down he knows it’s all because of what happened last night.

Every Tuesday, you wait for his evening lecture to finish before you both walk back to his place to watch a movie. Some nights you leave before the clock strikes ten, most nights you stay over. It’s a routine that’s been implemented since he first met you, and never once has it ever felt tense.

Atsumu itches to fix it.

“Hey,” he pipes up, hoping to avoid any uncomfortable lulls in conversation. “You never told me how your date went.”

“My date?”

“Yeah. Bokuto says some guy from your Psychology class asked you out.”

“What?”

“At the party.”

You crinkle your nose in thought before a light bulb goes off in your head. “Are you talking about Kuroo?”

Atsumu’s eyes may as well bulge out of the sockets with how much they’ve widened. “Kuroo asked you out?”

“No,” you say quickly. “Well, yes. But he didn’t mean it. He only did it to get someone to stop bothering him.”

Atsumu frowns. “Then why did Bokuto say—?”

“Bokuto was drunk,” you snicker. “Plus, you know how much of a lightweight he is, and Hinata just kept on giving him drinks, so you can imagine how that went.”

“Not good, probably.”

“Nope,” you say. “Just imagine everything that could’ve gone wrong then double it.”

“Did he puke on Akaashi?”

“Yeah, and on Kuroo too.”

“See, that’s why I never let him stay the night.”

Your smile wavers and he pinches himself for saying anything in the first place.

“That’s probably the only good idea you’ve ever had,” you eventually say, but your voice is weaker than you intend it to be.

Atsumu can’t find the energy to argue.

He allows himself to be pulled down the street, your footsteps hasty compared to how he tries to drag his feet along the cement. Atsumu assumes you want to get this night over with, to spend only an hour — maybe two — with him before bidding goodbye, and the thought causes an ugly feeling to root itself into the pit of his stomach.

The wind whistles in warning. He should’ve expected something like this.

All good things come to an end is something he’s heard far too many times to count, but Atsumu is nothing if not an optimist, and even so, he never thought a saying such as that could ever apply to his friendship with you. Despite the hardships, the two of you have always pulled through.

But the clouds begin to drift over the moon, hindering its light, and his stomach churns at what’s to come.

Your voice, disguised as a remedy to soothe his unease, carries him forward. “Listen, I think I’ll head home after the movie.”

He blinks. “What?”

“I just want to sleep in my own bed tonight, y’know?”

“You can sleep in mine,” he suggests, his tone bordering on a plea. You always sleep in mine. “I can sleep on the couch.”

“It’s okay, Tsumu,” you reply. “You’re probably tired of seeing me all the time, anyway.”

“I’m not,” he insists.

You give him a tight smile in response.

Atsumu’s always believed he was good with words. His voice has failed him before, sure, and it’s not like it’s a secret that sometimes his carelessness lands him in undesirable situations, but he’s usually so quick on his feet. He knows what to say, and if he doesn’t, he can crank up the charm until everyone in the vicinity begins to suffocate on his charisma.

Miya Atsumu is rarely ever speechless.

But then you started acting different, and suddenly he couldn’t decipher your expressions or predict your every move. You would dance with him in the kitchen and tenderly apply skincare products on his face, but no matter how much he pulled you close, you would drift further away. You’d open up before brushing everything off as if he had nothing to worry about.

It's like you haven’t been paying attention at all. If it involved you, Atsumu would always worry.

The question slips out of his mouth too quickly for him to control. “Are you ever gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“What?”

He stops walking, and as a result, so do you. “Something’s been bothering you,” he says hoarsely. “And I was waiting it out because I thought you’d tell me, but… I feel like you never will.”

You lick your lips — to stall, he thinks, but doing so only spares you a second. “Do you have any guesses?”

“Huh?”

“You’re not an idiot,” you sigh. “You must have some idea.”

(And, perhaps, maybe a small part of him does. You’re his best friend, and he is yours, and you each earned that title by knowing the other like the moon knows the stars, like the stars know the sky, like the sky knows the sun.

He knows, you know he does. But this is irresponsible. It threatens everything).

“I don’t,” he lies.

“Atsumu,” you exhale, as if he’s entangled in your system, “do you really need me to say it?”

He doesn’t answer. You continue, anyway.

Three words are whispered into the dead of night, and the world tilts on its axis.

This was never part of the routine.

“Maybe I should just go home,” you murmur when he doesn’t speak. His fingers twitch, screaming at him to reach out for you as soon as you pull away. “I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Y/N—”

“Just let me go,” you say — you beg. “Please.”

His body screams, his nerves flare, but the messenger between his spinal cord and his brain fails to relay the message that he should do everything in his power to prevent you from leaving.

“Okay,” he responds. His voice sounds like it hasn’t been in use for years, tainted with defeat.

You turn to leave, and for the first time since you’ve met him, Atsumu doesn’t follow.

Atsumu’s moody, he has been for a while, and it doesn’t take long for everyone to realize it’s because of you.

Or, more specifically, the absence of you.

You’ve been spending more time by yourself than you have been with anyone else, cooped up in the safety of your bedroom and listening to — according to Sakusa — music that ranges from soft, heartbroken ballads, to hardcore fuck-you anthems. The lack of your presence is strange; you’ve always been a constant in Atsumu’s life, and to live without it leaves a lingering emptiness in his chest.

He'll catch glimpses of you sometimes on campus, and he feels, what he assumes to be, the same emotion people feel when they claim they’ve spotted Bigfoot.

For a moment, everything feels a little more bearable.

But then you disappear, leaving sorrow in your wake, and reality washes over him like an ice-cold bucket of water.

His moping is how he ends up tagging along with Bokuto and Hinata at the fall festival, trailing after them like an upset puppy while they frolic down the streets, gawking at all the stands and taste-testing every snack they come across. The plan was to have them cheer him up, to make him smile even if it’s only for a second, because when Atsumu is upset, it becomes everyone else’s problem.

Hinata offers him some funnel cake and Atsumu absentmindedly murmurs about how it’s your favourite. They all buy friendship bracelets and Atsumu buys one for you too because he knows how much you’d want one. They all clamber onto the carousel and Atsumu wonders if you’d fall off if you rode the horse.

Bokuto and Hinata get tired of it all eventually.

“He’s hopeless,” Bokuto cries when they reunite with Suna and Osamu. “He won’t stop whining.”

Atsumu opts for standing on his toes to look over the crowd in hopes of finding you instead of replying to his friend. His eyes drift first to the ring toss, then to the man selling cotton candy, then to the spinning teacups.

Nothing.

Osamu says something that finally catches his brother’s attention. “Well, Y/N’s not coming,” he waves his phone in the air, which is open on his message thread with you. “Said they were busy.”

Hinata huffs. “They’re only saying that cause Tsumu’s here.”

Bokuto slaps his arm. “Shoyo!”

“What? It’s true!” he exclaims defensively. “You know how they’re always on top of their assignments, I doubt they’re doing anything but watching TV and—”

“Yeah, but still, don’t say that! Isn’t Tsum-Tsum heartbroken enough?”

“I am not heartbroken,” Atsumu snarls.

Suna gives him a look. “Well…”

“I’m not!” he flails, frantically gesturing to himself to show that he’s perfectly fine. “I mean, yeah, am I a little upset? Yes. But heartbroken? You guys are just saying anything at this point, like—”

Osamu interrupts him before he can continue rambling and digging himself into a bigger hole. “What did you even do, anyway?”

The Miya twins are notorious on campus for their bickering, but Atsumu thought that in this situation, at least his own brother would be on his side. “What makes you think this is all my fault?”

Osamu raises an eyebrow, mocking and patronizing. “Well, for one—”

“If anything,” Atsumu continues, hurriedly cutting him off, “I should be the one avoiding them. Not that I’d want to, I’d never want to, obviously, but if we were getting technical then they should be the one worrying about me and not the other way around.”

Hinata speaks, mouth full of the last of his funnel cake. “Who says they don’t worry about you?”

“I— wait, what?”

“They’re always asking me and Shoyo about how you’re doing,” Bokuto chirps. “How screwed up could things be that you won’t talk to each other?”

Atsumu inhales, and he feels the world begin to collapse into him. Unsure of what to say, unsure of what to think, unsure if it’s fair of him to reach for his phone and hope you’ll answer his calls. He knows why the two of you have found yourselves here, standing on opposite sides of a field of regret and hurt. He knows, that in his attempt to dodge change, he blew something up in the process.

Suna tilts his head in question. “Atsumu. What happened?”

Atsumu exhales. “They told me that—” the words lodge themselves in his throat, unwilling to leave.

But they all understand.

“Huh,” Suna hums. “Didn’t think they had it in them.”

“What did you reply with?” Osamu asks.

Atsumu prepares himself for their rage. “Nothing.”

He’s met with silence. Then, incredulously, Suna asks, “Are you stupid?”

Osamu answers for him. “Chronically so.”

Atsumu doesn’t have the heart to respond to the jab, and the severity of the situation significantly increases.

Hinata bites the inside of his cheek in thought. “I think he’s broken.”

Bokuto leans forward to study Atsumu’s expression as much as he can before the latter waves him off. With a frown, Bokuto steps back and looks around the grounds, hoping to find something that’ll cheer Atsumu up and make tonight not a complete bust.

A tent, flashy and sparkly and enchanting, lures him in.

Osamu looks like he’s about to say something, but before he can utter a word, Bokuto tugs on Atsumu’s sleeve and drags him to the tent, ignoring his protests. “I have an idea,” he says reassuringly, but it does nothing to calm his friend. “Trust me on this.”

Atsumu snatches his arm back and rubs it as if Bokuto’s harmed him. He cranes his neck around to look at the sign just outside the tent, and scowls at the pink and yellow doodles on the chalkboard.

“This is a psychic.”

Bokuto nods vigorously. “Yes.”

“Your idea of cheering me up is having me scammed?”

Bokuto pouts. “You love stuff like this.”

He’s not wrong. If it were any other day, this place would be Atsumu’s first stop. He’d be the one begging people to join him despite the fact that he knows the consequences involve a dent in his bank account, but today, predictions of his future are the last thing on his mind. Today, convincing people to get their fortune read is the least of his desires, because you aren’t trying to convince people with him.

There’s no point being here without you.

Atsumu moves to get out of line.

“Hey, dude,” Bokuto whines and holds onto his arm to keep him in place. “Just give it a try. It can’t hurt, can it?”

“Boku—”

“It’ll be fun!” he says cheerily. “Maybe it’ll give you some insight on how to apologize to Y/N.”

Atsumu wants nothing more than to move — to leave — but Bokuto mastered the art of the puppy dog eyes long before he could talk, and the moment he flashes them Atsumu realizes he has no other choice but to stay.

When he steps into the tent, the atmosphere changes.

He tugs on the sleeves of his windbreaker when the autumn air threatens to pierce his skin, and reluctantly sits down on the chair across from the psychic. She eyes his every move, trying to figure out what type of customer he might be — someone who’s just doing this for fun, or someone who’s going through a rough patch, or someone who needs a stranger to light the path they need to walk down.

Atsumu fidgets in his seat.

“You’re here for a reading?”

A shrug and feigned indifference are what she receives as an answer. “Sure.”

His mask of nonchalance begins to slip when the reading starts, growing restless as he checks the time on his watch and calculating the probability of you still being awake. He glances over his shoulder, praying to whichever deity who’ll listen that Bokuto will come in and drag him out once he’s realized that this is the last thing Atsumu wants.

You are not here, and his body stings whenever the reminder worms its way into his mind.

His uneasiness must amuse the psychic, because when he finally looks back at her, she’s grinning, knotting his stomach in worry.

She asks him a dreadful question, made of nuts and bolts and things that rub salt in the wound of his heart.

What is it that you desire most, boy?

Atsumu freezes, plastering a confused smile on his face. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m sure you know. Is it strength?”

Definitely not, Atsumu wants to say. He’s more than capable enough to lift heavy boxes, he doesn’t have to take multiple trips to move things from point A to point B, he doesn’t struggle carrying his friends’ slump and inebriated bodies into a bed.

Atsumu is strong. He’s proved it during his frequent trips to the gym and by winning arm-wrestling contests. He wears the trait like a badge of honour, a reminder.

He does not need any more physical strength.

He checks his watch and wonders if you’ve brushed your teeth and dragged yourself to bed.

The psychic pushes. “Power?”

Atsumu briefly shakes his head, a movement so miniscule it’s a surprise the woman catches it.

It used to be such a thrill, the popularity that came with his volleyball reign. He used to ride that horse and sit in that throne with pride, he let the excitement course through him and, for a while, let himself believe the squeals that came with victory was interchangeable with love.

But power does not compare. He was foolish to believe nothing could beat the rush that came with the admiration — the shouts of his name in the bleachers, the ever-growing follower count, the people confessing their infatuation whenever they caught him alone.

They do not know who he is underneath the volleyball uniform. They don’t know that he likes to go to the diner after games and order a strawberry milkshake, or that his bottom drawer is filled to the brim with spare clothes for you, or that his favourite nights are spent with you applying a face mask to his skin.

They will never know him as much as you do.

The psychic leans forward. “Love?”

Atsumu clenches his jaw. Yes, would be the short answer, but to say that without an explanation would mean to lie, and he’s never been a good liar. Because Atsumu’s always been loved — not by the crowds or the student body — but by his friends, his family, you.

You gave your heart to him, and he noticed too late that the bleeding organ resided in the palm of his hand, cracked and yearning and brave. And after he realized this, he selfishly craved for more, even though he knew it scared him. He has been in relationships before, but none of them crossed the threshold of what truly mattered — the intimate conversations, the dances in the kitchen at midnight, the confessions murmured under the duvet.

So, perhaps, yes, Atsumu desires love, but the one thing he supposes he wants more is courage.

The psychic smiles. “Ah. Bingo. So—”

“Miya.”

Atsumu whips his head around to find Sakusa standing at the entrance, skillfully ignoring the protests behind him to get in line and wait his turn. Sakusa raises an eyebrow at the situation Atsumu’s found himself in, but saves him from his judgement to state, “Bokuto told me you were in here.”

“Excuse me,” the woman chirps. “We’re in the middle of something.”

“If you think a scam is what’ll solve your problems, then you’re stupider than I thought,” Sakusa says.

Atsumu sighs. “You came here just to tell me that?”

“Well, yeah,” Sakusa shrugs. “There’s a simpler solution to all of this.”

“Okay, well—”

“Talk to them,” Sakusa interrupts, exhausted. “Before they give up.”

Atsumu kisses his teeth, changing his position in his chair so he’s fully facing Sakusa. “Since when were you the type to give advice?”

Sakusa ignores his retort with a shake of his head and a roll of his eyes.

“I have never seen you cower before, Miya,” Sakusa says, and the words are like needles on his skin. “Don’t let the first time you do so be now.”

Atsumu inhales shakily. “I don’t—”

“They got Hinge a few days ago,” Sakusa deadpans. Atsumu stiffens. “Don’t lose to some hack they found on a dating app.”

Atsumu looks from his friend to the clairvoyant before flashing her a sheepish smile and shooting clumsily out of his chair. The words that tumble from his mouth are barely coherent, and the last thing he hears before he exits the tent is Sakusa mumbling moron under his breath.

The journey from the festival to your apartment is a blur. He vaguely recalls running past his friends and returning their questioning shouts with a wave of his hand and getting angry at least two cars who cut him on the road, before he ends up in front of your door, nose tinged red from the cold.

His knocks are insistent.

“I’m coming, God, be patient,” he hears you say before you open the door to see him, and your annoyance is wiped away in seconds.

“Hi,” he says, out of breath from running up three flights of stairs after he got impatient waiting for the elevator. His eyes land on the blanket you’ve wrapped over your shoulders, and his lips quirk up at the familiar pattern. “Didn’t I get you that?”

You tug on the material defensively. “What are you doing here?” you ask. “And what the hell are you wearing? Did you not look at the weather before you left the house? It’s freezing outside, you idiot, you should be wearing a thicker jacket. And your face is so red! And your hands! They’re gonna get all dry if you don’t wear gloves! How many times do I have to tell you to dress for the weather otherwise you’ll get sick and…”

Atsumu rasps, “And?”

You gulp, taking a step back to distance yourself. “And you shouldn’t be here,” you say, sending a knife to his chest. “I thought you were at the festival.”

“That’s why you didn’t come,” he concludes. “Because I was there.”

“Well, what do you expect me to do?” you snap. “I told you I loved you and you looked at me like I was crazy.”

“I didn’t.”

“Whatever,” you bark. “My point still stands. You shouldn’t be here.”

He nods. “I know.”

“Then why are you?”

Eight letters are whispered into the darkness of the entryway, and the world is thrown off-balance.

“I love you,” he says, surprising himself with just how easy the words escape after he lets them, “and I’m so, so sorry.”

Your lips part in surprise. “What?”

“I love you,” he repeats. “And I should’ve told you sooner, but I— I was scared—”

“Then why are you telling me now?”

“I don’t know,” he whispers. “Love conquers all, I guess. My fear included.”

“You came all the way here to tell me that?”

He risks a step towards you and his heart flutters when you don’t move away. “I ran out of a psychic’s tent, too.”

“What?”

“I’ll tell you later,” he murmurs. “That’s not important right now.”

“It sounds pretty important, I mean, you mentioned it and everything.”

“It’s not.”

“What exactly is more important than that?”

“Your forgiveness, actually.”

You huff. “Believe it or not, forgiveness doesn’t come so easily, Atsumu.”

“Can I kiss you, then?” he questions innocently, placing a hand against your cheek. “Will you take that as an apology?”

You still, licking your lips as you try to maintain your defiant stance. “…That won’t work every time you make me mad, you know.”

He tries his best not to smirk. “Is that a yes?”

“I hate you.”

He lets his lips hover over yours, and he’s not sure if the loud heartbeat ringing in his ears is his or yours (or maybe a mixture of both). “Is that yes?” he asks again, searching your eyes for any signs of discomfort.

Your eyes flicker to his mouth and then you mumble, “Yes.”

Atsumu pinches himself before capturing his lips with yours, eager and desperate, to kiss you with enough pent-up want and need to cause you to stumble. He’s gentle in the way he cradles your face, as if the world has found itself in his hands, still beautiful despite how much he’s hurt it.

He’ll make up for hurting you later, but for now he’ll allow himself to be selfish.

I love you, he whispers into your mouth, and you capture the confession with your own and let it live in your beating heart.

I love you, he whispers into your neck as you both stumble into the kitchen, making sure to tattoo the words into your skin so you’ll never forget.

“I love you,” he whispers one last time as the blanket covers you both and he’s sure you’ve lulled to sleep with your ear against his chest and his thumb drawing hearts on your shoulder, “so, so much.”

Slumber takes over you both, blanketing your smiling figures with hope and love.

© fushisagi, 2023. do not translate or plagiarize my works.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

hihihi rae!!!!! congratulations on 900 followers🥹🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻i still remember the day u first posted ur jason fics aaaa ive loved every single one of ur fics ever since!!!

for the event, how about something angsty since ur the kween of angst!!!

“cmon, open your eyes. please, just open your eyes”

~900 words

It didn't hurt at first. The shrapnel in your side was a nuisance, of course. It slowed your movements, made you sluggish as you helped pull person after person out of the rubble.

But it didn't hurt. You knew, realistically, that it did, that adrenaline could only keep you on your feet for so long. But between disarming the rest of Fireflys bombs and getting the surviving victims to paramedics, you'd brushed off your own injuries.

Just one more person. One more life. The mantra repeated itself over and over in your head. Over and over until there was no one left to help. Then, and only then, did you follow the other vigilantes to a nearby roof.

Batman is the first to speak, gaze set on the scene below, "There's been no other sightings of Firefly. We'll split into teams of two and look into his usual hideouts. Robin and I will take East End. Spoiler and," you tune out the rest of his orders, more focused on not swaying on your feet.

You discreetly press your hand to your side, fighting the urge to wince at the blood seeping into your armor. Your vision is starting to swim, and you can practically feel your body crashing.

You shift your weight, trying to steady yourself. If you can just make it it a couple more hours, if you can just find Firefly before anyone else gets hurt–

"You okay," a quiet voice asks. You turn your head as Red Hood settles himself at your side, head tilted like he's observed your every movement.

You debate lying. Jason's always been observant, but it's not really a lie if you are okay, right? Sure, maybe there's some blood, and maybe it's starting to hurt when you breathe, but you are okay.

You open your mouth to tell him as much while putting on your most convincing face. Instead of getting to say a word, your world just kind of tips to the side.

One second, you're standing and the next? Nothing. A void of blackness and silence.

You must not be out for long, because you slowly wake up to shouts and firm pressure to your side.

You're not sure when you got so cold, but the body cradling you is warm. It draws you further away from the darkness threatening to take you under again.

There's a hand cupping your face, a thigh bracing your back, and a chest pressed to your side. If you had the strength to move, you'd want to curl into it, to savor how safe it feels.

A pair of hands work over your side, and you start to register sharp words and pleading tones. It takes more effort than it should to start to recognize what they're saying.

'Lost a lot of blood,' you manage to pick out. Something about getting the cave ready. Reassurances that you were caught before hit your head, and you've survived worse than a piece of metal to your kidney.

But it's none of those words, none of those voices that will you to open your eyes.

It's Jason. His voice cuts through the hazy fog in your mind, "C'mon, open your eyes. Please, just open your eyes." He sounds like he's begging, desperate and anxious for any sign of life from you.

You hate it. Hate that you made him worry. Made him scared. It takes all the strength you have left, but you crack your eyes open.

His helmet is off, thrown somewhere and forgotten, and you've never seen him look so relieved, "Hey, hey, sweetheart. There you are. You need to keep your eyes open for me, okay? We're gonna get you taken care of."

You'd like to nod, but all you manage is a weak hum. Your body feels heavy, your eyes even heavier, but his thumb is stroking your cheek, and it's so soothing that you actually want to stay awake, to soak up every soft word and gentle touch.

"Good," he murmurs, his gaze never leaving you, even as the others work diligently over your injury. "Just stay awake, stay with me," he pleads.

Someone says something about the batmobile, but it's getting more and more difficult to focus on words. There's a brief argument about it being too dangerous to move you, at least you think there is.

Then you're lifted into the air, held tightly in Red Hood's arms. Your head lolls to his shoulder.

You know he's still speaking to you, you can hear the way his voice is starting to pitch into something more desperate again. But whatever he's saying is lost to your dazed state.

Lights seem to flash in your vision, but the warmth of him never fades. The engine of the batmobile roars in time with your eyes rolling back.

You know you've lost some time. You must have blacked out somewhere in between the roof and getting to the cave.

Your eyes flutter sluggishly. There's an IV in your arm, a hand clutching yours, and a white light baring down at you.

The familiar sensation of stitches pulling your skin back together registers. It's enough to know you won't die, even if it feels like you are.

There's a soft voice in your ear. The words sound like gibberish, but the tone is comforting. Sleep starts to drag you back under, but there's a peace to it this time, comforted by the idea that when you wake up, and you will wake up, that voice will still be at your side.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

Hiya there!

I have two questions,

first, what if Katsuki was whipped over a popstar reader?

Also, who's the character in your profile? i wanna maybe draw her.

Much love

-Kovu :>

hello this is LOOOOONG overdue @kovu-bunnbunn im soooo sorry ! i didnt rlly know how to get to this at first cus i've never done hc's before, but either way i hope you like it ! also tumblr just randomly ate this so i had to restart...yay.

p.s.: the character on my profile is my oc ryoko ! she's my mha oc, i'd be so super flattered if you decided to draw her ! (also idk if you couldve guessed but shes my oc x canon katsuki ship I KNOOOOW shocker)

katsuki has literally every single piece of merch he can get his hands on

vinyls, album records, posters, accesories and t-shirts but he never wears them he hides them somewhere in his room so you don't find out he has them.

(you do find out eventually.)

he gets so giddy on the inside when you give him limited edition stuff and that's always something he shows off

"woah man that's limited edition ive been LURKING for that !" "yeah well apparently you haven't been lurkin' hard enough cus I HAVE IT--"

he shows up to all your concerts and somehow he manages to be the loudest one there lmfaooo his ass is NOT on mute.

if you ever take him backstage he's so awkward cus he doesnt know anyone so he just sticks to you (not like he doesn't on the daily)

at most he'll nod at people in greeting (he's kinda scared he'll start stuttering)

but he's scary lookin so the staff n others think he's just protective over you

for sure your other bandmates / staff think he's your personal bodyguard LOLOLOLOL

but nope turns out he's just a loser lol

if you sell photocards as merch or something like that best believe has ALLL of them

collectin em like his phone isn't already filled with pictures of you

his storage about to burst and it's still not enough for 'im LOLOL

he for sure has a secret fan account that entirely revolves around you.

he defends you with his LIFE on there too he's one of them fans😭😭😭

he has a different playlist from specific albums depending on his mood, so whatever playlist he's on there's always at least one song of yours on there

he has a seperate 'bad boy playlist' that he has so you don't find out he's a hyperfan

one time you guys were sharing earbuds in the bus while his playlist was on shuffle and he'd accidently added one of your songs on his edgy dark n brooding cool guy playlist.

needless to say he was more than embarrassed, damn near MORTIFIED and didn't look at you for the whole bus ride 😭😭

gets so flustered when he finds out songs you've written were while you thought of him or were dedicated to him. he gets so blushy about it but he's such a show off

like whenever he hears a song meant for him, he smirks about it to himself and no one understands why but he really doesn't care cus they don't need to understand

cus it's something between you and him <3

all in all, he loves you and your music (and your merch) and he couldn't be prouder to call himself your boyfriend <3

[shugarbunni]

kitty!reader x professor!james pt.2 ...enjoy :p

"hang on hang on- you've been sleeping with potter? as in the professor ive been rightfully pining over? you bitch!" barty squawks, hands flailing around as you all take your seats at a booth in a dark corner of the pub.

no one wanted to get sloshed tonight, so you all decided on getting..relatively pissed at the local pub. ('all' referring to the best group of people anyone will ever meet. you, of course, barty, evan, regulus, dorcas, marlene and the ever lovely pandora!)

"you have a boyfriend, barty." Marlene snorts, smirking at the eye roll Evan gives.

"shurrup, im allowed to have crushes-" barty starts, only to be cut off by you.

"that isn't the point!" you huff, plucking reggie's cigarette from his lips and taking a drag, leaning against him "point is i do not want to end things with him, not anytime soon." you trail off, before lifting your gaze to barty "and he's more than good sex, you bellend." you scoff, pointing at him "hes like, really sweet. and funny. if you overlook the fact that he's...painfully millennial, sometimes."

"what did you two even talk about?" pandora asks, trying her very best to hide her judgement with the situation, bless her heart.

"y'know..normal shit! couple shit!" you struggle, taking an anxious puff of smoke.

"couple shit?" regulus parrots flatly, a questioning quirk to his brow.

"yes, regulus, couple shit. y'know..getting to know each other." you sigh, sinking into the booth.

"okay, so like what? give us an example, kitty cat" evan chuckles, wrapping his arm around barty

"ooo, do y'know his favourite colour?" dorcas giggles, cheek resting on marlenes shoulder.

"you lot are such idiots." you grumble, taking a sip of your bloody mary "...and its red."

"im not going in a bloody nightclub, sirius" james groans as his best friend drags him along the street.

"come on, prongs!" sirius huffs, about to go on a rant about how they never have 'fun' anymore, when remus interjects.

"how about we go to the pub? act our age, for once?" he huffs, giving sirius a pointed look and pries him off of james, running a hand through his husbands salt and pepper hair.

"alright." he grumbles, rolling his eyes at lily when she laughs at his sulking.

the group strides across the street, remus' arm slung casually over sirius' shoulder. petes been quiet, checking his phone every ten minutes - no doubt texting Emma. like a bastard teenager, he is.

james stays quiet too as they all chatter, his brows creased in distracted thought whilst he follows along into the pub.

he only snaps out of his daze when sirius heckles him from the bar, "James! what ya wanting, mate?"

"just a pint, pads" he says, forcing out a smile as he slumps in the booth, followed by the others whilst sirius gets everyones drinks ordered.

"cheer up, would you?" lily sighs softly, leaning her elbows against the table "we're meant to be taking your mind off of her, James."

"i am cheered." james mutters, giving her a sarcastic smile, earning a swat on the arm.

sirius scurries back to the table, setting everyones drinks down. hes always had a strange talent for carrying a bunch of glasses at once - must've been all the dorm parties back when they were students.

"right! cheers everyone" he exclaims dramatically, getting the group to clink their beers together "heres to healthy relat-"

"right!" a barman's voice interrupts, echoing through the pub "karaoke machines on, you lot. have at it."

most of the pub-goers (absolutely mortal middle aged men) dont seem to care all that much, but two groups seem to get elated at this news.

sirius gasps, immediately up and tugging on a begrudged peters arm (they've been karaoke partners since they were 17, believe it or not) "come on, wormy! we have to do starman!"

"sirius, mate-"

its then, that come on Eileen blasts through the pubs old speakers.

sirius shuts up - for once.

and james? well, james looks like hes seen an angel, to put it lightly.

there you are, giggling through the lyrics with Barty whilst you pathetically attempt the famous living room routine.

your whole group are creased watching, evan's filming of course. the people in the club clap along, energy up.

"come on, come on!" you wave over the others, the whole group crowding over the dingy microphone as you drunkenly shout the lyrics.

its when the song ends and your group stumbles away, clinging onto each other through bouts of laughter that you spot him. well, really you spot lily first. but then the others came into view. they all look anxious, sirius trying to tug james out of his seat. he doesn't budge.

oh christ, this is gunna be a long night, isn't it?

this feels so messy but like..ive had this idea for ages and i wanna get it out there. let me know your opinions! more parts to come<3

[hollowdeath]

Okay I was thinking of writing this myself but like Harry and his crush (who's a talented Potions witch) brews up an aphrodisiac potion into the form of a vapor (inhaled through like an atomizer) and she wants to test it with her best friend (crush lmao) Harry. Idea is a WIP but if you could use it for a smut piece I wouldn't complain 🫣🫣 LOVE YOUR WORK OMFG

Thank you loveee! ❤️

AAAAA thank you for requesting this!!! ive been wanting to write something like this for a while so you gave me the perfect excuse to try it out :D you're the best!

pairing: harry james potter x fem!reader (18+)

summary: you and harry have been working on a project involving amortentia, the most powerful love potion to exist, and when harry tests your device the night before it's due, he has some rather intense side effects.

cw: smut!!! dom!harry, fingering, penetration, breeding

word count: 6k

you and harry had spent the entire semester working together on a project that challenged you to create a new form of an old potion. rather than settling for the obvious ideas like turning felix felicis into gummy candies, you and harry had decided to try something a bit more complex.

you knew right away you wanted to work with amortentia more closely, as you had always been fascinated by the potion and its powerful properties, and harry was more than willing to let you take the reins of the project. he gave insight when he could, and spent a fair amount of time helping you figure out the more complicated steps of the process, but he honestly just loved sitting back and watching you work your magic. literally.

you were by far the most knowledgeable student when it came to potions, and undoubtedly one of the smartest witches harry had ever met. he considered himself lucky that you two had already formed a friendship prior to taking potions together, allowing him to pair up with the most sought after partner in the entire class. more than just your knowledge and skill, harry was just excited to be your partner so he could know you better and see how your mind works.

you were excited to work with harry as well, but not to collaborate on potions and fiddle with mechanics you could never understand. you had looked forward to sitting close to him, reading from the same books, talking for hours, and watching his eyes intently focus as he prepared the ingredients for you. of course you two were friends more than anything, and you never considered yourself one of those girls who would fawn over harry for doing absolutely nothing, but working with him so intimately for the entire semester really made you see him differently. he was funny, he was smart, he remembered every little thing about you, and he always brought you snacks when you were working together. it didn't help that you found him absolutely adorable in big sweaters with messy hair, or felt your heart race when he looked at you from over his glasses, or couldn't keep your eyes off his hands when he was helping you put together your atomizer.

speaking of, your project had actually turned out extremely well for the little experience either of you had in engineering such a device. it was a small, handheld diffuser that transformed liquid amortentia, as well as a mix of other potent aphrodisiacs, into a vapor that could be inhaled for the full effect. harry had actually been the one to suggest the idea, trying to figure out a better way to ingest the mixture while still altering its state. you thought it was brilliant, and were surprised at how smooth the process turned out to be.

however, the presentation for the project was tomorrow morning, and you were still fiddling with a few of the mechanics to get it to work just right. it was hard to know when it was fully finished since testing the product wasn't exactly practical, as the effects would have anyone distracted and unable to focus within seconds of inhaling it. you were a bit frustrated sitting alone at your table in the potions lab, a single light above you as the sun had long since set and night took over. your head was in your hands, staring at the atomizer in front of you, wondering if you should just take the chance and test it since you were alone in the classroom.

just as you were convincing yourself, you heard the door creak open to your right, causing you to jump in your seat. you couldn't make out who was there ar first as your eyes were still adjusting to the dark room around you. you hadn't expected anyone to come in anyway, mostly because it was past curfew and, frankly, who would want to spend their time in the potions lab on a sunday evening?

but, as the figure walked closer to you, you noticed it was harry dressed in pajama pants and a sweatshirt with his slippers scraping across the wooden floors. "harry," you breathed a sigh of relief, your hand resting on your chest. "you scared the piss out of me." you say with a laugh.

harry chuckles, and you notice he's carrying his invisibility robe in one hand, half of his arm disappearing beneath it. "sorry, figured there'd be no one in here," he says with a sleepy voice, setting the robe over his own chair, making it disappear as well.

you sigh, setting your head back in your hands and leaning your elbows on the table. "it's okay, i probably shouldn't be here anyways. this thing has me seeing red, and not in a good way." you complain. harry laughs again, making his way next to you and under the light. your stomach drops at how soft he looks, his hair messy, cheeks flushed, deep voice quietly chuckling as he leans on the table beside you.

"yeah, well, i couldn't sleep knowing it wasn't perfect as well," harry tells you, his eyes fixated on the device. "not that slughorn would notice either way, but…" he trails off, making you crack a smile and chuckle as well.

harry looks down at you, his glasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose. "i just know how much it means to you." he says.

you feel yourself blushing and quickly begin changing the subject. "w-well, i think i've got it most of the way there, it's just, um…" you say nervously, picking up the cylindrical vaporizer and examining it in your hands once again.

"just…?" harry provokes.

you let out a nervous laugh, shaking your head as you pass the device back and forth between your hands. "just…that, um, it still needs to be tested, i guess, to see the full effects, y'know?" you try to explain without stumbling over your thoughts.

harry understands what you mean and nods his head slowly. "oh, right…" he says a bit nervously as well, pushing himself off the table to stand up straight and clear his throat.

an awkward silence hangs in the air for a moment as you continue to roll the vaporizer between your fingers. "yeah…" you trail off once again.

harry nervously chuckles, breaking the silence and making you laugh at the sudden tension. "well, then, hand it over i guess." harry casually requests, holding his hand out to you.

you look up at harry in confusion, your eyebrows pinched together as you examine his lighthearted expression. "harry," you try to find your words, feeling yourself still blushing under his gaze. "are you mad? you can't just test this out randomly." you try to explain to him.

harry shakes his head, his own eyebrows pinching together as he lets out an amused laugh. "why not? it can't be that strong," he shrugs.

you give harry another incredulous look, utterly confused at his nonchalant attitude. "are you kidding? this potion is composed of some of the most potent aphrodisiacs in the world, and inhaling them should only intensify the effects…theoretically," you add the last part in a hopeful tone, turning your attention back to the device in your hands.

harry just extends his hand out further, nearly touching yours. "well, we'll never know if we don't test it, now will we?" he asks with a smirk. you hesitate for another moment, still looking down at your hands. of course you were insanely curious about the effects of the project you spent weeks sweating over, and certainly would feel better knowing it actually works as intended before having to present it to the class tomorrow. but you were worried it could affect harry negatively, or that he could have a bad reaction to it, and you weren't sure if you could take that risk.

"just trust me, [y/n]. i can handle it." harry reassures you once more, his voice warm and familiar.

you sigh, carefully handing over the device to harry and leaning back in your chair. he smiles at you, taking one more look at the design of the vaporizer in his hands before bringing the mouthpiece up to his lips and inhaling the mixture. harry holds his breath for a moment before blowing out the vapor slowly, the clouds surrounding him under the dim lighting in a way that makes your heart stop. he looks ethereal with the billowing vapor coming from his lips and nostrils, a soft smile pinching his cheeks.

"tastes amazing," harry observes, taking another look at the design as the vapor fades into the air.

you wait for a few seconds, looking for any sign of behavioral changes in harry as he continues to rotate the device in his fingers. "well?" you ask in a hopeful tone.

harry looks down at you, and for a split second, you swear his pupils expand to the size of his iris before shrinking back to their normal size, blinking rapidly as they do. harry sets the device down and looks away from you, his neck jerking to the side and his knuckles clenching.

"harry?" you ask, concerned, standing from your seat and reaching for harry's shoulder. before you can touch him he jerks away, making a frustrated groaning sound as he did. you're still concerned, but mostly confused as harry's hands reach for the edge of the table and grip it so hard his veins are pulsing. his breathing is ragged and heavy, nearly growling as he tries to steady it. you're momentarily distracted before harry attempts to speak to you.

"it works," he barks out, his voice strained and impatient. you're taken aback at his aggressive change in tone. "what?" you ask again, trying again to reach for his shoulder. "harry, are you okay?"

just as you make contact with his sweatshirt, harry's legs go limp beneath him as he sinks to his knees. his breathing gets heavier as he lets out a pained groan, trying his best to stand up and let go of the table for support. "just," he says between panting breaths. "i have to go," he abruptly turns and tries to leave, his hands grabbing at his hair and face as he stumbles away.

"harry," you call after him. "what's happening? are you okay? is it hurting you?" you try to get some insight on what harry's experiencing, but he keeps shaking his head as he tries to make his way to the door.

"harry!" you finally snap, stepping away from the table. harry stops in his tracks. "our presentation is in 6 hours and you said you could handle the effects. now, i need to know what they are or else i'm testing it out myself." you demand angrily, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

harry turns to you but doesn't dare look at you, his body hunched over as if he's in pain. his hands are still rubbing at his eyes and he seems to be wiping away sweat on his forehead every other second.

"look, [y/n]," harry snaps back. you're again taken aback by his tone; you've never heard his voice so dark and foreboding before, and the sound of him practically growling your name has your mind racing. "i told you it works, okay? isn't that what you wanted?" his words are rushed, as if he's still trying to leave when you have so many questions that need answered.

"i need to know specifics, harry. what does it feel like? was there any physical response? how strong is it? i mean, you really can't let me ask a few questions about something we've been working on for weeks?" you ask.

harry frustratedly walks towards you, his wide strides making you step back towards the table in anticipation. his fists are balled at his sides, his eyes still pointed at the ground. "you wanna know what it feels like?" his voice bellows in the empty classroom, causing you to jump and gasp. you didn't want any prefects to hear you two in the lab and then have to explain why harry was in such a state.

harry comes closer to you, backing you against the table as his eyes stay fixed downward. "you wanna know how i feel, [y/n]?" he asks again, his voice less angry and more impatient, feeling his hot breath fall across your skin. again, hearing him spit your name at you so aggressively only made your mind race faster. you could hardly speak, so you just nodded your head anxiously, still attempting to put more space between you and harry.

for a while only harry's heavy breathing fills the room. you can see his hands still clenched at his sides, nearly shaking from the amount of pressure they're under. just as you're about to turn your head away from the tense moment, harry's eyes meet yours. you gasp again, this time at just how dark they had become since first looking away from you.

harry smirks evilly at your shock, his hands quickly grasping the edge of the table behind you, bringing his body even closer to yours. you were feeling such a rush of every emotion possible it was hard to tell what exactly you were feeling; all you knew is you could feel the wetness pooling between your legs despite fear making your heart race.

"i feel like i could tear you apart." harry's words drip with venom, his body leaning further into yours. you let out a shaky breath, your feet still trying to back up despite the table stopping you. "and i feel like you would let me." harry teases, his smirk growing.

you let out an involuntary squeal as harry's face comes closer to yours, turning away to avoid his eyes. "h-harry–" you try to protest, but he turns your chin back to him before you can finish.

"wouldn't you?" harry asks with a knowing tone.

you try to turn away again but harry doesn't let you, instead only bringing your lips closer to his as his hand fixes itself around your jaw tightly. you struggle a bit in his grasp but he isn't letting you go.

"i see the way you watch me, pretty girl. you may be smart but you're not very clever." harry's lips barely graze yours as he talks, his breath overwhelming your senses as he continues to stare into your eyes. "you'd love for me to tell you all the filthy thoughts running through my head about you right now, wouldn't you, darling? want me to describe every scenario, every position, every sound that comes from these pretty lips?" harry's thumb raises from your chin to your bottom lip as he swipes it across the soft skin.

you're speechless at his blunt attitude, your legs shaking beneath you as you try your best to continue standing. your mind is a mess trying to understand his response. you knew the vapor would be powerful, but you had no idea harry would react like this. you weren't exactly complaining, it was just so out of character for him to be so suggestive and upfront with his desires, let alone his apparent desire for you.

you clear your throat, trying to gain the confidence to formulate an answer to his question. "h-harry, it's the vapor, y-you're not yourself," you try to explain, your voice getting caught. "just…just sit down a-and we can talk about the side effects."

harry's grip on your jaw tightens more, making you wince slightly.

harry pulls away from your face, his eyes still boring into yours hungrily. his glasses are slightly fogged from how close he was to you, but his blown pupils were still clearly visible. he's looking down at you, smirking, chuckling at your pained expression. "you never answered my questions, if i remember correctly."

you can hardly continue keeping eye contact with harry as you felt your cheeks completely flushed and heart racing beneath his grasp. you were trying to keep it together knowing he was under the effects of a powerful potion, but part of you has wanted this for so long it only feels right to let harry have what he seems to want as well. i mean, that's what friends are for, right?

still squirming under the weight of his body against yours, harry grows impatient as he lets his clothed erection just barely rub against your thigh, enough to get your attention. your eyes widen, and harry smiles in satisfaction, humming at your response. you let your body relax despite your thumping heartbeat and rapid breathing, feeling yourself lean into harry as well.

harry hums again with his eyes tracing over every part of your face like he's trying to memorize it. "hmm, that's what i thought. now, tell me, pretty girl," harry starts, his hand tilting your head up to face him more. "what do you want?"

his question left you speechless once again. you didn't expect harry to consider your feelings in the matter; not that it made any difference anyway, you've wanted him just as bad for a long time now. but you were conflicted, was harry actually attracted to you, or would the potion make him act this way towards anybody? would it be wrong of you to encourage his behavior knowing he was under the influence of a potion? did any of that even matter with harry's throbbing erection pressed against you?

rather than answering harry's question, you took a chance and reached for his shoulders to help steady yourself before pressing your lips against his. harry moans into your mouth at the feeling, his grip on your jaw loosening but still holding you in place. his other hand snakes around from the edge of the table to your ass, hungrily grabbing for it and making you gasp.

harry takes this chance to shove his tongue past your lips, pushing you back against the table once more. in one swift motion he lifts your ass onto the tabletop, sitting you down in front of him. both of his hands go to the hem of your shirt, which you help him take off quickly. his lips attached to your neck, his hands already wrapped around your waist, and you nervously watched the door behind harry to make sure no one catches you two.

you start pulling at harry's sweatshirt and he rips it off before you even have the chance to help him. his skin is hot to the touch, and his hair's becoming damp with sweat. "harry," you say shakily as he's leaving a bruise on the side of your neck with his teeth. "you're so warm,"

pulling away and admiring the fresh red mark he's left on you, harry has a slight smirk on his swollen lips, "you should feel my heart," he says with a chuckle, guiding one of your hands to his warm chest. you can immediately feel his racing heart just beneath your fingertips, beating at a pace that couldn't be healthy for him.

you try to protest, but harry just gives you another hungry but short kiss. "i'm fine, [y/n]. i'm better than fine. it's like every inhibition i've ever had is gone, and it feels amazing. i'm sorry if i've been a bit strong, but, if you could see what i'm thinking, you'd actually be a bit impressed with my restraint…" harry voice is softer this time, his hands finding their way to your back, fiddling with the clasps on your bra. his lips wander from your ear down to your shoulder, sending a chill down your spine.

once harry has your bra undone, he looks back at you for confirmation. you eagerly help him remove it from you, throwing it to the side as harry's eyes become fixated on your chest. "fucking hell, [y/n]." harry curses under his breath before his hands cup your boobs aggressively, making you whimper in response.

it doesn't take long before harry has to press his lips against the soft skin of your tits, with his teeth following not far behind. you instinctively bring a hand to your mouth to muffle the sounds you can't hold back, but harry isn't having any of it. he gives you a stern look before grabbing your wrist and placing your hand in his messy hair. "let me hear you." he states, his voice dark and commanding once again.

once harry's lips and tongue find their way to your nipples, you can't help but start to melt in his hands. whiny moans, gasps, and occasional curses fall from your lips watching harry's eyes flutter close as he enjoys pleasing you. your fingers become entangled in his hair, holding him closer to your chest.

however, harry soon grows impatient again, and your filthy noises certainly didn't help him.

he pulls you down from the table, making sure you're able to stand before quickly turning you around and pressing his erection against your ass. you moan at the feeling and grind against him, making harry's grip on your waist tighten as he lets out his own strangled moan.

you help harry remove your pants as his come off as well. only left in your underwear, harry's arms wrap around you from behind, his fingers softly running across the wet fabric covering your pussy. "fuck," he breathes against your ear, his other arm wrapping across your chest and bringing you further into him. "i need you."

harry's desperate tone sends another shiver across your skin, your mind practically short circuiting at the thought of him wanting you so badly.

harry bends you over the table, his chest against your back as he leaves rushed kisses along the nape of your neck. the cold surface of the lab table makes you gasp, your nipples hardening at the sensation.

"now," harry says, leaving one more kiss just under your ear. "what i want you to do," he continues, reaching for your open notebook across the table as well as your pen. "is be a good potions student, and write down my symptoms." he tells you as he sets the notebook in front of you and hands you the pen. you can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

you're a bit confused and nearly about to protest when you feel harry's fingers hook under your panties and pull them down hastily. you try to look back at him, but a hand quickly grabs your hair from behind and forces you to look back at your notes. "follow the rules, darling." harry's deep voice instructs you with a hint of a threat behind his words.

harry's grip on your hair only makes your pussy throb more. you can feel his other hand resting on the back of your thigh, his fingers running along the wet folds of your pussy, humming to himself at the warm feeling. just as you're about to start writing, you can feel harry slowly pushing a finger inside of you. your moan is strained at the unfamiliar feeling, but harry's tight grip in your hair loosens as he begins to comfort you. "just relax and let me take care of it, baby."

if you weren't wet before you certainly were now. your knees were weakening beneath you, forcing you to lean into the table for more support. you relaxed your body and breathed evenly, trying to shift your focus to the notes in front of you instead. your handwriting is shaky and uneven, biting your lip in an attempt to distract yourself from the desperate feeling growing inside you.

"go on, tell me what you wrote." harry teases. you groan in protest but attempt to speak anyway. "r-rapid, heartbeat," you manage to say before you start writing the next symptom. "d–" you try to speak, but you gasp as harry introduces another finger into your aching pussy.

harry chuckles, tightening his grip in your hair. "hm?" he asks, waiting for you to continue. you try to hold back your moans as you look back down at your notes, your eyes attempting to focus on your writing. "d-dilated…pupils…" you trail off, your eyes rolling back as harry's fingers thrust deeper into you. you can hardly keep your moaning under control and harry's loving every second of it.

"lack of…inhibitions," you breathe out, your handwriting barely legible the more you write. harry deep chuckle from behind you only distracts you further. your stomach is tight and your legs can barely hold you up anymore as you feel your high begin to build. just as it does, harry removes his fingers and leaves you feeling empty.

before you can whine, harry lets go of his grip on your hair and instead grabs your shoulders, pulling you up from the table a bit. holding yourself up with your arms, harry separates your feet with his. you can feel the head of his cock grinding against your wetness from behind.

harry's fingers end up in your mouth, making you taste yourself as he forces your head back to look at him. his eyes are entirely dark, no longer the inviting shades of blue you're so accustomed to. his smirk is evil, and his hair is sticking to his forehead from the excessive sweating. "i want to watch you take me." harry's voice is darker than his eyes, a cold, demanding force that takes what it needs.

with his fingers still holding your mouth open, you let out a pained moan at the overwhelming feeling of harry's cock pushing inside of you. despite his aggressive demeanor, harry remains gentle with you, giving you time to adjust to the feeling and carefully watching your expression. his eyes are practically sparkling with lust watching you lose yourself in the feeling of being filled by his cock.

"fuck," harry curses under his breath again. his other hand grabs for your hips, his fingers digging into your skin like you're the only thing keeping him standing. "feel so good, darling." harry places a messy kiss on your forehead before he begins thrusting into you again, slowly, enjoying every second he's inside of you.

you're nearly crying out in pleasure and desperation with the pathetic sounds coming from you. you can hardly move against harry's grasp, not that you were complaining, but you just needed more or else you would go insane.

you attempt to push your hips back to make harry get the message, and the smirk on his face tells you he got it right away. once he starts thrusting into you quicker, your mind goes blank. you can feel the drool start to drip out of your mouth and over harry's fingers, even down to your chest and the table top. harry is groaning at the sight of you becoming such a mess for him.

"looks like you needed this more than i did, hm?" harry teases, his lips so close to your ear you can feel them. you nod eagerly, your hands reaching for his arm holding your mouth open. you grip onto his forearm for stability, your eyes rolling back into your head at the overwhelming pleasure. he takes his fingers out of your mouth and instead holds your throat tightly. you gasp for air and wipe the drool from your lips.

soon both of your moans fill the room, the air sweaty and the table creaking beneath you. the fear of someone hearing you or getting caught no longer concerns you, if anything it just thrills you even more.

harry then reaches for your notes and pen again. you try hold the pen as well as you could. "i have one more symptom i want you to add," harry says between heavy breaths, becoming worn out and even more sweaty. you whine, but nod your head as you attempt to line your writing up with the rest.

you feel harry bend you further over the table, his chest hot against your back as he continues pounding into you. it's challenging trying to keep your eyes open and focused when you're completely blissed out with harry groaning in your ear.

"obsession," he hisses, his grip on your throat tightening as he picks up the pace of his thrusts.

you try to write out the word, but you can hardly keep your hands steady. your stomach feels tight, your heart starts beating even faster, and you can feel yourself on the brink of your orgasm.

harry chuckles at your pathetic attempt at writing, but moves the notebook away anyway. "good girl." he commends you.

it's enough to bring you over the edge, your mouth dropping open with nasty sounds and eyes rolling back once more. harry groans into your ear as your pussy tightens around him, his thrusting becoming sloppy and tired.

"please," he breathes out just as you start coming down. "please, baby, can i cum inside you, please, please, i need it," harry's practically begging you, as if he even needed to ask.

"cum inside me, harry, please,"

"fuck," he moans again, his voice broken and needy. he's still desperately chasing his high, his hands sliding around to your stomach to feel himself pounding into you. "you're all mine, [y/n], all fucking mine." he growls into your ear. you could nearly cum again hearing harry fall apart behind you.

with a few more stuttering thrusts, harry cums inside you with another broken moan, bending you over the table again as his hands try to catch himself. his cock still fully inside you, you can feel his chest rising and falling on your back as he tries to catch his breath.

harry quickly gets off of you, almost in a rush. you turn to him and see his eyes are wide, his pupils shrinking back to their normal size, his hair nearly soaked in sweat. he tries his best to cover himself up, eventually grabbing for his pajama pants to put them back on. you're a bit lost at his reaction, hoping he didn't regret his actions so quickly.

"u-uhm, [y/n], i'm…i'm, so sorry," harry apologizes, his voice genuine and scared. he's wiping the sweat from his face, barely able to look at you. "i-i didn't mean for it to, f-for me to, um…" he's stumbling over his words, the same nervous harry you were so used to.

you smirked, crossing your arms in front of your chest to cover yourself a bit as well. "what, you didn't mean to fuck me over our lab table?" you ask smugly. harry's cheeks are completely flushed but he's trying his best to hide that from you, his hands covering his face.

"stop." he simply says, his voice meek and quiet. you giggle to yourself and step closer to him, admiring how pretty his sweaty skin looks in the dim lighting.

"hey," you say to him, stopping only about a foot away, completely naked and still shaking a bit. you reach for harry's arm and tug at it, making him uncover his face. he still doesn't dare look at you. "look, it's okay. that potion was extremely powerful, and we didn't know what would happen. as long as you feel alright that's all that matters, yeah? and, y'know, we can still be friends, even if you regret it..." you add the last part quietly, your voice breaking a bit.

harry looks up at you with guilty eyes. he's a bit distracted by your bare skin, but he can't stop looking back into your eyes. "please, don't take this as regret," he says, his eyebrows raised sympathetically. "i-i just, that's not…" he sighs, frustrated, looking away from you again. "it wasn't supposed to happen that way, our first time. n-not that i've thought about it that much," harry nervously interrupts himself, making you giggle once more.

harry looks back at you, his eyes wandering down to your chest. "u-uhm, just, you…if we ever did, y'know…you'd just deserve so much better than that," he tries to explain himself while clearly flustered.

you laugh again. "harry, i clearly enjoyed myself just then, didn't i? i mean, i don't know how it could've been much better." you admit, still in a teasing tone.

harry reaches for your shirt on the floor and offers to help you put it on. as he does you notice his eyes lingering on your chest again. "yes, but, i would've at least liked for you to have a bed to be comfortable on…" he says, knocking his knuckles against the hard surface of the table.

you roll your eyes at harry and reach for your pants as well. "well, maybe we can plan better for next time." you say with a smirk as you slip them on. harry straightens up from grabbing his shirt and looks at you with wide eyes again. "next time?" he asks innocently. you swear you could take him again right then and there, but you hold yourself back. "yeah, next time. if you'd like that." you offer him.

harry gives you that same shy smile he always has, and can barely hold himself back as he steps towards you and gives you a soft kiss on your lips. it's different, not hungry or full of lust, but rather warm and comforting. he pulls away after a moment to look at you, admiring your face in the light. "i'd love to." he whispers to you.

after helping you pack your stuff and clean up the table, harry offers to walk you back to your room with the invisibility cloak. you accept his offer and he wraps his arm around your shoulders, covering you both and walking you out of the lab and down the hallway.

before he leaves you for the night, harry can't help but snag another kiss, still as soft and loving as before with his hand resting on your cheek. you giggle into his lips, laying your forehead on his. "goodnight, harry." you say to him, readjusting your bag with your notebooks. "goodnight, my love." he tells you, unwrapping you from the cloak and leaving you with a swish.

the next morning you two had barely slept, sitting in potions class with matching eye bags and flushed cheeks. you could hardly look at the side of the table you were just bent over last night, and noticed harry smirking anytime he turned his head that way as well. his hands were subtly bumping into yours, as well as his knees, trying anything to get your attention during the other presentations. you just gave him a look, but couldn't help smiling at his gestures.

when it was your turn to present, harry let you do most of the talking and admired how passionately you spoke about the process to create the device. slughorn was more than impressed with your skill and knowledge, and awarded you and harry with top marks for your vaporizer.

"would there be any way to test the device?" he had asked curiously, holding it between his hands and examining it. "no!" you nearly exclaimed, taking it from his hands before he could even try. slughorn gives you a surprised look, but harry pipes up from behind you. "it's entirely too powerful to just try it out casually, sir." he says.

slughorn's eyebrows pinch together. "how so?" he asks. you and harry exchange awkward looks, both blushing and chuckling to yourselves. harry takes the device from you and puts it in his own pocket.

"just trust me, sir."

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