#i wanted to continue his and the reader's story in this au

[wonustars]

In Front of Me (1)

cause i was blind to see that you were right in front of me ₊˚

⊹ pairing: jeon wonwoo x f.reader ⊹ genre: bestfriends to (?), angst, smut (R: 18+ mdni) ⊹ wordcount: 40.6k (part 1) (part 2: here)

⊹ summary: jeon wonwoo has spent most of his adolesence and early adult hood unable to understand why he can't seem to stay in a relationship for more than a few months. as his best friend, you allowed him to vent about his worries without judgment. so what if you're in love with him? your friendship with wonwoo meant more to you than having your feelings reciprocated. that is until you hit your breaking point, while wonwoo finally realizes what has been in front of him this whole time.

⊹ tags: non-idol!au, uni!au, unrequited love (for the most part), pining, toxic!wonwoo, toxic!reader, both in wonwoo and readers pov, questionable protagonists, mentions of other svt members, happy ending (?), emotionally constipated characters (wonwoo), flashbacks, slight seokmin x reader, a lot of emotions thrown everywhere. (content warnings under the cut)

⊹ note: this story was meant to be posted for wonwoos bday, but if you know anything about me by now, i never really stick to my self made deadlines lol. thank you to my cutieful, big brained beta readers: ♡ @junkissed @chocosvt and @sunniques ♡ everyone in @svthub and @highvern and @gyuswhore who helped me w this fic as well ! if u look closely this is pretty much just a sugar coated version of real life events lol... anyways i hope u enjoy and lmk what u think thru the replies and reblogs :) !

⊹ masterlist, fic playlist.

⊹ smut tags: no smut in this part :p ⊹ warnings: alcohol, reader is downbad for wonwoo, stalking, slut-shaming, evasions of privacy, if i missed anything lmk! cuz ik i did i just can't think of what hehe :p

⊹ what i would like to note about this story before you read it: you're not meant to like these characters (for most of the story at least lol), they are flawed in many ways, thats the whole point of this story tbh. tmi--but this story is pretty much my free therapy lol. and i love a messy plot! wonwoo and reader are just two normal people in this story and i wanted to write something a little more raw than i'm used to. so just take what i say with a grain of salt before reading ♡ i still want you to enjoy this story because i poured my soul into it. so thank you for your support and kind asks and comments about the teaser!

prologue. 

Despite your age, you’ve never been in a serious relationship. There was always something holding you back, or rather, someone. 

In all the years you’ve known Wonwoo, you’ve always thought maybe one day, he would look at you in a different light. Hoping that he could reciprocate the feelings you’ve harboured for him since the eleventh grade. 

He was the one who constantly moved out of relationships. You couldn’t even count the amount of late-night calls where he asked you what his “next step” should be. The doting best friend that you are, you’d gladly stay up all night trying to help him fix his girl problems. 

“I just, I don’t have feelings for her anymore. Is that wrong?” he asked you over the phone. 

Tossing and turning in your bed you let out a deep sigh. One thing is always guaranteed with Wonwoo: in a relationship, he loses feelings quickly. No matter how much he likes the girl, no matter how obsessed or possessive he feels for them at the beginning of it all, it diminishes by the time the six-month mark hits. 

Although he may be a great friend to you, relationships were never his strong suit. 

“It’s not wrong to fall out of love, but how many times are you going to break up with someone before you decide to stay?” you ask him, and he pauses to think. 

“I don’t know, but I can’t stay, that would make things worse,” he sighs. “It’s better to just stop this whole thing now.” 

“I agree, but are you sure?” you continue to ask him the same questions you’ve been asking since you were sixteen. 

“I’m sure,” he replies with a heavy sigh. 

“Okay, then goodnight. It’s almost one in the morning,” you try to cut the call, but he continues to speak. 

“I’m not the bad guy, right?” he asks you for reassurance. 

“No, you’re just human Wonwoo. There’s nothing wrong with losing feelings for someone,” you affirmed. 

“Alright, thank you, good night and sweet dreams,” he whispers listlessly. 

“Good night, Wonwoo.” 

Your phone beeps indicating that he’s hung up and you can feel the heartstrings pull inside your chest. How many times will it take for Wonwoo to find someone he actually wants to be with? And why is it never you? 

act one, favorite crime.

chapter one. 

“Wait, what? You and Wonwoo aren’t dating?” Seungcheol asks you, forcing you into the hot seat. 

The rest of your friend group is boring holes into your face as they all sit around Jeonghan’s living room. The blood rises in your cheeks, but you shake your head anyway. 

It feels like every time you’re with your friends, they ask you the same set of questions. Constantly wondering why you and Wonwoo haven’t thought about dating, or why you two haven’t decided to take the chance and just be together. 

“You guys need to stop asking that. A guy can befriend someone of the opposite gender,” Wonwoo defends the two of you. 

“You’re telling me in all the years you’ve known her, you haven’t developed feelings for her once?” Cheol continues to instigate, and your eyes go wide. 

Looking over at Wonwoo, you anxiously wait for his answer, your chest blooming with hope, only for those buds to be washed away in a millisecond. 

“No, c’mon, we’re just friends. That’s it, right?” Wonwoo turns to you, trying to get you to back him up. 

Your mouth runs dry as he stares at you, his eyebrows rising in anticipation. 

“U-uh yeah, Wonwoo’s right, we’re just friends,” you blurt out, not being able to handle all the expectant eyes on you all at once. 

“See? Now can you all just get off our backs?” he chastises. 

The chatter starts up again, moving past the topic of you and Wonwoo’s friendship. But you sit there, with your heart crushed in your hands, lifeless and shrivelled. Like his words and actions had the power to tear the life out of you. The worst part was that he did all this without knowing. He’s completely oblivious to your feelings, and you only have yourself to blame.

You understand your relationship with Wonwoo is different from most people’s, but at the same time, it should be normal for a girl and a guy to just be friends. And at least you respect Wonwoo’s feelings, and you also respect that whenever he’s dating someone the dynamic between you two shifts. 

He becomes more detached when he’s in a relationship, and you’re okay with that. His priorities change and you’re okay with that. Despite your feelings for him, you know that you can’t force him to feel the same way. And you should be okay with that. 

You’ve never tried to get in the way of his love life, or purposefully give him bad advice to ruin what he has with someone else. Not since you were seventeen, and at that time in your life your frontal lobe was a measly speck of dust, but it's different now. Now, your morals don’t change just because you love him, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt any less to see the person you’re in love with, fall in love with someone else. 

two. 

“Hey, you okay?” Seokmin approaches you, and you turn your head, acknowledging his presence. 

“Huh? Yeah, I’m alright,” you mutter, but you know you don’t look that way. 

Seokmin has known you since high school and has seen you through everything, probably more than Wonwoo. He knows when you’re not feeling well. A sympathetic permanent on his lips as he continues to observe you play with the food on your plate, pushing around the food aimlessly but never taking a bite. 

The sounds of people conversing throughout the dining hall never die down. But luckily, the commotion keeps your thoughts of Wonwoo at bay, or at least that’s what you like to think. But your heart can’t seem to let go of that moment from the other day. Having Seungcheol confirm that Wonwoo has never felt anything romantically for you was like a stab in the stomach, and him getting you to back up his words was just him twisting the knife. 

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? You can tell me,” he sighs, pushing the hair covering your face and placing it behind your ear. 

You can feel the tears start to pool, but you try your damndest not to let them spill—not like this, not in front of so many people. 

“It was just something Wonwoo said when we were all at Hannie’s house,” you mumble, refusing to make eye contact with your friend. 

“What did he say?” 

“That he’s never liked me before,” you sigh, feeling a tear slip from your eye. 

Cursing yourself in your head, you hate how much your feelings for him affect you. You hate how he doesn’t have to even be in front of you, yet he can still cause your emotions to fluctuate. 

“It’s alright,” he coos, pulling you into his strong arms. 

It felt weird, to hug Seokmin so tightly in the middle of your university’s dining hall. But you’re thankful for how aware he is, how he actually cares about your feelings. You felt melodramatic sitting there crying in the fucking dining hall of all places, but you couldn’t help but let your tears flow as Seokmin comforts you with his soft voice. 

“You deserve more than this, I hope you know that,” he whispers in your ear.

three. 

Over the next few days, the words Seokmin had whispered to you kept replaying in your head. You did deserve better and looking at all of Wonwoo’s past relationships is the perfect example. He’s not exactly the ideal boyfriend, so why did you even have feelings for him in the first place?

You could feel a migraine coming on from how hard you were thinking, but Wonwoo still seems to be the only person you can’t let go of. No matter how many times you’ve tried. 

A knock on your door brings you out of your thoughts. It was late, and you don’t remember anyone messaging you saying that they were going to come over, but you open the door anyway. 

“Hey, sorry I didn’t text,” Wonwoo moves past you, takes his shoes off, and plops on your couch. 

“It’s okay, what’s up?” you move to sit beside him. 

“I broke up with her,” He says, shrugging. 

Taken aback by his nonchalance, your eyes widen. He seems calm for someone who has just broken up with his girlfriend. But you try not to think too hard about it, or you might just have to take another Advil to remedy your already growing headache. 

“Well, how did it go?” you ask with a bit of apprehension. 

Knowing Wonwoo, you knew that he probably just dumped her over the phone or something. He’s never been bothered to really break up with someone. 

You have all these examples of why he would probably be the worst boyfriend ever, yet your heart still belongs to him. It’s pitiful, to say the least, people probably would think that you’re a masochist because you subject yourself to staying by his side when he has feelings for another. 

“She was crying, but at least it’s over now,” Wonwoo informs you as he eats the snacks you had left on your coffee table. 

“Oh.” You could feel the guilt start to seep into your veins. 

It never felt good to hear Wonwoo talk about his breakups, but you’re not sure how to react. There’s a part of you that’s happy to know that he’s single again, but the majority of you pities the girl who had just gotten her heart broken. 

Wonwoo continues to munch on the snacks left on your table while your mind tries to process the information you’ve been given. Hearing him talk so casually about his breakup leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, but you decide to switch topics instead of asking any more questions. 

“Are you still going to Seokmin’s thing this weekend, though?” you ask him, trying to fill the air with something to drown out your rapid heartbeats. 

He shrugs his shoulders, “If I feel like it. Are you?” 

The bottom of your stomach tightens. You were hoping that he would go, even looking forward to it. Is that pathetic? To want to see him everywhere you go? Maybe you were pathetic to the point where you only felt like hanging out with your friends if he was there. 

“I mean, I don’t have a ride so…” you trail off, pretending to pay attention to whatever was playing on the T.V. screen. 

“I’ll go since you’re going, that way you have a ride,” he mumbles, adjusting his posture to lean back on your couch. 

He sighs as he sinks into the plush cushions, spreading his legs while he puts his arms up. You’re very aware of his proximity, and you try not to let it show. But the smell of his cologne invades your senses, knocking the breath out of your chest. 

Wonwoo’s arm circles your shoulder, pulling you closer to him and forcing your head to rest delicately on his broad shoulder. Exhaling, you let yourself enjoy his way of showing affection. Although to him it means nothing, and to you, quite literally everything. 

“Thank you for agreeing to go to Seokmin’s so I have a ride,” you whisper but still avoid eye contact so he doesn’t notice your flustered expression. 

“Thank you for letting me barge in here just so I can talk about my breakup,” he whispers back, kissing the top of your head. 

“Of course, what are best friends for?” 

four. 

Most people fall in love gradually, slowly growing feelings for the person before they can even call it love. Like the way the seasons steadily turned from winter to spring. Green grass peeking from underneath the melting snow, or flowers gently blooming and unravelling their new set of stems and petals. For you, it was different.

 Falling in love with Wonwoo wasn’t gradual at all. 

If anything, falling in love with Wonwoo felt like a snowstorm in the middle of a sunny day. Your affection for him grew rapidly, and before you knew it, your mind was clouded with him and him only. It became hard to stay rational as if you were driving down a snow-filled road without any control over the steering wheel. Swerving into different lanes, your brakes malfunction, making it hard to bring your car to a full stop. Falling in love with Wonwoo was not gradual or easy.

When you met him on the first day of your junior year of high school, your sixteen-year-old brain couldn’t fully comprehend your crush on him. He was the shy, scrawny new kid in your class, and no one paid mind to him except you. But that didn’t stop you from liking him. Despite his interest in collecting pokémon cards and his crooked glasses that were too big for his face, you were in love. 

You were like two peas in a pod that whole year, and the only time you and Wonwoo spent time apart was when he had to leave during summer break to visit family in Korea. 

When he returned for your senior year, you could barely recognize him. Suddenly the nerdy Wonwoo you knew was gone. His glasses complimented his face, his hair was styled differently, and most of all, he got hot. A lot of your classmates must’ve seemed to agree because now your best friend and the man you’re in love with gained attention from people who didn’t even bat an eyelash at him last year. 

It annoyed you to see all these people suddenly interested in him. You were angry that just because he grew a few inches and learned to do his hair didn’t mean he was that much different from how he was last year. 

Even though Wonwoo was in a relationship, he still stayed true to your friendship. He still hung out with you, ate lunch with you, you even came over on weekends to have dinner with his family. Day by day, your love for him strengthened, and you ignored that his attention had been divided between you and his girlfriend at the time. 

When their relationship hit three months, it seemed your friendship had come to an abrupt halt. He didn’t invite you for dinner as often, you two didn’t talk on the phone every other night. He started to invest more of his time into her until he decided she wasn’t worth his energy anymore. Then the calls would come, his contact name flashing across your phone screen to ask you for advice. 

“I feel like I need to break up with Haein,” his deep voice flowed through your phone speaker. A sigh left his lips as he faced the truth. 

Haein was Wonwoo’s first girlfriend. She was nice, almost too nice. Wonwoo definitely had a type for girls with a bubbly personality. Ones that were effortlessly beautiful, reminiscent of a freshly made porcelain doll. That was Haein to you, unblemished in every way possible. Everything that you weren’t.

You couldn’t bring yourself to hate her. She was too nice to hate, but your younger self was so angry at how much of Wonwoo's time she took up that you envied her. Seokmin once jokingly mentioned that you looked especially green when she was around, and you remember how quickly you checked your appearance on the nearest reflective surface because of what he had said in passing. You remember vividly how nervous his words made you, was it that obvious?

Wonwoo’s first time calling you about his breakup plans was a delightful surprise, and you were too in shock to sputter out a proper response.

“Oh. Why?” was all you could say, still stunned that after a week of no contact, this was the first thing he said. 

“‘Dunno, I just don’t like her anymore,” he admitted effortlessly. 

You didn’t know how to respond. Your heart was screaming at you to encourage him to break up with his girlfriend at the time, while your brain was telling you to think logically. 

“Well, if that’s what you think is right,” you mumbled, trying to hide the fact that you felt a sense of relief at Wonwoo potentially being single again. 

Others may have tried to rationalize with Wonwoo, but you didn’t care. You wanted your friendship with him to turn back to normal. Your adolescent brain ignored that it was wrong to encourage him, as long as he was fully yours again.

History repeated itself over and over, and the older you got, you learnt to not be so selfish with his attention. Mostly out of guilt for the person he was going to break up with, but also because you didn’t want Wonwoo to realize your true feelings. 

Although being in love with Wonwoo was brutal, you constantly wished that things were different between you two, but they weren’t. He’s never seen you as more than a friend, and as your friendship with him progressed, you had begun to learn to mask your romantic feelings for platonic ones. 

five. 

By the time you entered university, you had mastered the art of pretending. As if your feelings for Wonwoo didn’t exist. You are quite meticulous in ensuring that he never realizes that you are profoundly in love with him. The mere thought of him finding out how you truly felt frightened you. 

You’ve already envisioned countless scenarios on how it could go. The idea of being rejected by the one you love most. It would change everything about your friendship with him.  The look of pity in his eyes, the apologies that would spill out of his mouth. You can't bear even the thought of rejection. Not from him. 

Two voices are constantly at war inside your mind. Your brain, acting as the voice of reason, constantly reminds you that it’s better to preserve your friendship. To keep the dynamic you’ve always had with Wonwoo guarded where it could last, thrive. While your heart persuaded you with deluded, fake scenarios. 

‘What if he likes you back?’ 

‘You never know until you try.’ 

‘Take the risk or lose the chance.’ 

What if. 

Like a siren to a sailor, your heart sang with deep imagery. Filling your thoughts with illusions of you and Wonwoo finally together. But your mind doesn’t let you go without a fight. It knows that beyond the deep waters where your siren-voiced heart lies is nothing but a bottomless pit. 

The possibilities are endless, and you’d rather stay safely grounded in your boat of rationality. 

A notification brings you out of your thoughts. Although you already knew that it was Wonwoo, you scramble to pick up your phone. There’s excitement laced in your veins as you look down at the screen. 

7:06 p.m. [wons <3]: be there in 5. 

There was no reason for you to be so ecstatic but you couldn’t help it. He had already texted you prior, notifying you that he was leaving his place to come pick you up, and yet every time your phone buzzes, you still hope that it’s something completely different. But that was your heart talking; you knew that it wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary. 

Everyone had planned to meet at Seokmin’s place today, just to have one last celebration before midterms began again. You had happily agreed, enthusiastic that you could spend more time with Wonwoo, although it wouldn’t be a one-on-one thing. You were more than elated to see him while also being able to hang out with the rest of your friends. 

Throwing your phone back on the bed, you change into an outfit that is both cute and comfortable. There wasn’t a reason to dress up when the vibe at Seokmin’s was just going to be sitting around his living room, drinking cocktails and eating pizza. 

Wonwoo texts you once more to let you know he’s outside, causing you to race down to meet him. A lump in your throat arises, as he comes into your field of vision, appreciating how breathtakingly handsome he is. 

The chilled breeze brushes through the strands of his hair, glasses perched on his tall nose. He looked amazing, just like he always had, but you never get bored of admiring him. Even if it’s just from afar. 

“Hi! Sorry if I kept you waiting,” your voice resounds into the night. 

“It's never a problem if it’s you,” he chuckles as you dawdle over to the passenger side of his car. 

Trying not to read too deep into his words, you snort at his cheesy line instead of giving a response. Watching Wonwoo move to the side as he opens the car door for you. His actions make you blush, and you know you’ll think about it for the rest of the night. 

“Are you ready to go?” he asks, smiling at you. 

The ride to Seokmin’s house is fairly quiet, the sounds of music filling the silence instead. Your thoughts are overflowing with scenarios once again, wondering how different the car ride would be if you and Wonwoo were in a relationship. His fingers would probably be laced with yours, or rubbing soothingly against your thigh while his other hand gripped the steering wheel. Planting kisses on your cheeks at every red light. It seemed like heaven on the other side. But you knew reality would crush your delusions soon enough. 

…

  The clock on Seokmin’s pale white wall is nearing midnight and you don’t want to be here anymore. Not when the only thing you could focus on was Wonwoo flirting with a girl whose name you didn’t catch. She’s Joshua’s childhood friend and he only brought her along because she’s visiting from out of town. Whoever she was, it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered to you was the fact that she was able to bring out Wonwoo’s deep laugh. The kind of laugh that only befalls upon your ears when he finds something genuinely funny.

The ugly swirl of jealousy sits in the pit of your stomach and you couldn't help but scoff at your wretched situation. It made you sick watching them, and you could throw up any minute now. At this point, you weren’t sure who to envy, Wonwoo or the girl he was flirting with. You find it unfair that he doesn’t realize how greatly he can impact your feelings. 

Just a few hours ago, you were in utter bliss. Sitting in the front seat of his car, listening to the music softly playing on the ride to Seokmin’s apartment. Making stupid jokes and pointing out the random sights that you had seen while driving down the bustling city streets. You envy how easy it is for Wonwoo to make all those feelings of delight vanish. And he doesn’t even know. He doesn’t know what he’s doing to you, and that’s what hurts the most. 

“You doing okay?” Seokmin comes up to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, squeezing it affectionately. 

“Huh? Oh. Yeah I’m okay,” you chuckle, but there’s nothing humorous about your laugh at all. 

His eyes soften, he knows that you’re not okay. Seokmin always knew. After all these years, he can tell when you’re trying to save face. There’s a lump in your throat, and if you didn’t have a drink to sip on to distract you, you probably would’ve gone to the bathroom to cry. 

“You wanna talk in my room?” he offers, and you’re grateful. 

Seokmin knew he had to get you somewhere other than the living room. You were practically torturing yourself, sitting on the couch and watching Wonwoo talk to everyone but you. 

Instead of agreeing vocally, you nod your head before standing up to follow Seokmin to his room. The door shuts softly, muffling the sounds of laughter and allowing your uneasiness to finally subside. 

As you sit on Seokmin’s bed, you feel the tears starting to trickle down your cheeks. It feels pathetic, crying over something so trivial. Why does it have to be you who feels this way? Why can’t you just be a normal friend and see Wonwoo in a platonic light? The whole world could turn upside and he’d be the first person you search for. 

Everything just seemed so unfair, how could you possibly be happy if your feelings for Wonwoo were constantly in the way of it all? It’s tiring, worrying about him, yearning for him. You could do so many other things with your time, and when you look toward the future, you know that you’ll regret how much of your life you wasted loving someone who doesn’t love you back. 

“It’s okay, just let it out,” Seokmin whispers in your ear, embracing you in a tight hug. 

Crying felt good. You rarely cry over your situation despite how upsetting it is. For the first time in a while, you allowed yourself to finally indulge in your sadness and let go of everything you were too afraid to say or feel.  

“I know it sucks right now, but honestly, it might be time to get over him,” Seokmin continues to comfort you while trying to help you face the reality of your situation. “You’re so hurt, and it’s taking a toll on you. Please, I can’t bear to see you so sad.” 

His words hit you hard because you know it's true. But all you can do is apologize. Saying sorry for feeling this way, even though it’s not your fault, you cannot control your feelings, you still apologize. To Seokmin, to your friends, but also yourself. 

“I-I’m sorry,” you hiccup, tears staining Seokmin’s white shirt. 

“Why are you sorry? You did nothing wrong,” he mutters, his large hand patting your head, trying to soothe your fit of emotions. 

“Because, if I was normal, you wouldn’t have to worry about me, about why I’m always upset, you and the others, my feelings are burdening all of you,” you continue to weep softly in his arms, gripping onto his shoulders as his hands encircle your waist. 

“Hey, look at me–” he grabs your face, gentle as a mouse, rubbing away the tears from your cheeks. “You are not a burden. We care, that’s why we worry, and I just want to be there for you.” 

“Thank you, Seokmin. I’m so happy that I have someone like you in my life,” you pull him into a hug again, knocking the air out of his chest, but he’s still somehow able to hug you even tighter. 

Seokmin is like your favourite childhood blanket, keeping you warm and away from everything that could possibly hurt you. He’s always willing to hear you rant about things that you know you could never tell Wonwoo. 

“I’m so tired, I’m tired of feeling like this,” you admit to him. 

Running his hands through your hair, he gives you a reassuring smile. 

“Maybe it’s time to distance yourself from him a bit, you two have been glued to the hip for so long. Maybe that distance can help organize your feelings better,” he mutters, catching the stray tears that pool at your chin, and wiping them away for you. 

“I want to feel better,” you agree with him, still trying to recover from how hard you were sobbing into his chest. 

“I care about you, okay? We all do. Wonwoo cares about you, too, but there’s a point where you’ll have to be okay with whatever outcome happens if you decide to tell him how you feel. Or you just have to find a way to get over him,” he speaks softly, trying not to crush your heart with reality, but you know he’s right. “In the Future, you will thank yourself for making whatever decision you have to make, but trust me, holding all these feelings in won’t do you any good.” He ends his pep talk there, and you sigh, trying to process everything he said. 

“Thank you, Minnie, I’m so thankful I have you,” you sniffled. 

“And I you.” 

…

Seokmin explained to Soonyoung and Jihoon that you needed to go home after your talk in his bedroom. They were more than happy to take you along with them before heading back to their place, not wanting to force you into a car with Wonwoo at the end of the night. 

“Of course, it’s really no trouble at all,” Soonyoung reassures you after you had asked about a million times if it was okay to ride home with them. 

The car ride is drastically different from the one you had taken on the way to Seokmin’s, Soonyoung being the number one reason why. He’s not the best at reading the room, although Jihoon is constantly telling him to shut up. He knows you are upset over something, but Soonyoung’s way of cheering you up is getting you to laugh. While Jihoon believed that you may want a more peaceful environment after everything that happened. 

As Jihoon drove, Soonyoung sang along with the lyrics of the current song playing. Loud enough for anyone outside the car to hear him. You could tell he was a bit tipsy after the few beers he had earlier, but you didn’t mind the noise. Jihoon begged to differ. 

“Soon, can you tone it down? Please. People are looking at us,” Jihoon grumbles, trying to focus on the road ahead. 

“But you love it when I sing,” Soonyoung whines, and you can’t help but laugh. 

“I do, but our friend has had a long night,” Jihoon counters. 

Soonyoung turns to face you from the passenger seat. “If you want me to be quiet, I will.” 

“No, it’s okay, I’m actually enjoying it, thank you very much,” you giggle, and that was all the confirmation he needed, going back to his antics. 

Jihoon groans as Soonyoung practically breaks out into full song and dance, causing you to sing along with him. This distraction from all the conflicting thoughts gives you a refuge from the war inside your mind.  

The whole way back to your place was filled with singing and laughter, allowing you to finally feel at ease for once. Albeit Jihoon pretended to act annoyed the whole time, you knew he secretly loved how Soonyoung tried to bring the mood back up to help you. 

Once you got home, you thanked the two before bidding them farewell. Apprehension flowed throughout you, and you didn't want to be alone with your thoughts after being around someone as cheerful as Soonyoung. But you didn’t know where else to go or what else to do.

Laying in your bed, you think about how today went from beginning to end, and you’re scared of what will happen in the future. Sighing to yourself, you allow yourself to at least get some rest instead of staying up all night thinking about the possibilities of tomorrow. Turning your phone on "do not disturb," the stillness in your apartment lulls you to sleep. 

1:09 a.m. [wons <3]: seokmin said u went home early? u ok? 

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?

chapter one. 

Wonwoo’s ride home was sombre, yet desolate. Your absence from his passenger seat irked him. Street lights whisk by his vision in a blur, but he’s too lost in his thoughts as he drives on autopilot, wondering why you went home so early. You didn’t even say goodbye. It’s the first time you went home from Seokmin’s place without him. 

By the time he got home, his curiosity had started to claw at him, but he didn’t want to be irrational and assume the worst. So he texted you, hoping that there would be an explanation awaiting him in the morning. 

Not a single notification from you came that very next morning. No matter how many times his phone went off, no matter how many notifications popped up from his screen. None of them were you. Morning turned to afternoon, and afternoon slowly turned into night. Still nothing. 

He feels dejected. Everything seemed to be going okay just last night. That was until you abruptly left without telling him you were going home. What changed? Why did it feel like there was a shift between you two? 

Rejection is foreign to Wonwoo. Most times, it’s him that’s doing the rejecting. He was the one to always initiate the breakup and lose feelings first; every decision he made was made by him. He has no control over whether you’re going to text him back or not, and to put it simply, he can’t stand that feeling. 

Wonwoo hates not being in control. Whether that be his future, his relationships, and especially his feelings. At least that’s what he forces himself to believe. That it’s not fair of you to ignore him when he’s worried about you, because he’s your best friend. You should answer him when he texts you. When he calls you, and especially when he shows up at your door, seeking your comfort. In his mind, that is what he believes the foundation of your friendship is. To comfort each other, just like it always has been. 

Sure, maybe Wonwoo is entitled, perhaps he’s conceited and selfish, but he doesn’t care. Because in his mind, you’re his best friend. There was no way in hell that you were ignoring him. His ego doesn’t even consider it a possibility. You were busy, that’s it. That has to be it. 

… 

Less than forty-eight hours in, Wonwoo couldn’t stop himself from texting you once more. Nimble fingers practically itching to open your contact to update you about the most mundane things. Maybe if he pretended that this moment of silence was perfectly normal, then maybe you would eventually end up answering him. 

12:36 p.m [wons <3]: class just finished. lunch at our usual place?

Nothing. Not even a thumb’s up reaction. Wonwoo had become antsy, guilt and slight annoyance gnawing at the pit of his stomach. Where the hell are you? What are you doing that’s so important that you couldn’t even open his message let alone read them? 

1:27 p.m.  [wons <3]: this random girl asked for my number after class lol. weird right? i didn’t give it to her though 😁

Cursing at himself, he regrets pressing the send button on that text. Double texting you is already out of the norm for him, but triple texting? He can’t believe how desperate he looks right now. He wishes he could bring himself to unsend it, but he just hopes it’ll be the text that finally gets you to respond. 

2:10 p.m. [wons <3]: saw a bunny running thru the oval today u should’ve seen it! reminded me of u.  [1 photo attachment] 

Absolute radio silence from your end. Wonwoo is starting to think that you had him blocked, but his messages are still delivering. Unsure of what’s worse, you ignoring him or blocking his number, Wonwoo still tries his best to remain calm.

4:00 p.m. [wons <3]: im about to head home soon. r u riding w me today? 

The sight of you getting into Seokmin’s car made Wonwoo scoff. Since when did you start getting rides home from Seokmin? And why was he the one opening the door for you? Buckling your seatbelt instead of his own? Wonwoo is completely dumbfounded at what he has witnessed. 

4:30 p.m.  [wons <3]: saw u get into seokmin’s car, lmk if u need a ride tmrw. 

Seeing you laugh and smile while walking to the student parking lot with Seokmin, of all people, solidified the fact that you are actively ignoring his texts. And he just can’t stand the thought of it. How dare he be ignored? Especially by his best friend, the one person who had always responded to him, no matter the time or how busy you were, you always texted him back. 

Wonwoo initially thought that even if the world ended, you would be there within arms reach, enough to hold you close, where he could keep you safe. You were predictable in that sense. But if the world decided to burst into flames, or swallow itself whole tomorrow, he’s unsure if you would be there right next to him by the time he woke up. 

two, wonwoo’s summer before senior year. 

The school year flew by with the speed of light. And before Wonwoo knew it, he was home back in Korea for the summer. The dreaded fifteen-hour plane ride over was excruciating. There was an ache in his lower back, and his knees felt like they were being struck by a hammer with every step he took. But at least the worst part was over. 

Sixteen-year-old Wonwoo was quite naive, thinking that he’d be welcomed into his home country with loving arms. That hadn’t been the case at all, and for the two months that he spent in Changwon, he couldn’t help but count the days till he could come back home. Where you had been patiently waiting for him. 

He despised being away from you, and he had yearned for you every moment he was gone. With you by his side, Wonwoo had finally understood the true meaning of solace, a peace of mind that couldn’t be replicated. Not even the fresh air that breezed through his fingers or the scent of the salty water misting its way onto the shore of his hometown could outweigh the feeling of tranquillity that he got when he was with you.

Every year that Wonwoo was dragged back to Korea by his parents was excruciating. Especially because he had a certain distaste for his relatives. Maybe it was disrespectful to loathe them the way he did, but he couldn’t care less. Their scathing comments would flow out of their mouths just to pierce daggers of judgement into his back. To insult Wonwoo was second nature to his aunts, and he couldn’t do much but sit back and listen.  

Much to his dismay, his parents hadn’t even bothered to book an Airbnb for their stay, informing him and his brother that they would be staying with his aunt. He couldn’t stand his aunt Seo-Ah in particular, and he swore the feeling was mutual. Unsure of why he had to withstand her crude remarks in front of his family without much protest, he forced himself not to dish out rude rebuttals to everything she had to say. 

There was a time when Wonwoo tried to reason with himself on why his aunt was filled with so much bitterness, but he gave up on that long ago. He was about to be seventeen now, and he couldn’t bring himself to empathize with the older lady anymore. 

“Wonwoo! You’re all grown up now, and I can’t believe it,” Seo-Ah forced him into a bone-crushing hug as he tried his best not to push her off of him. She pulled back to take a closer look at him and he could already see the scrutinizing gleam in her eyes, “You know, you’re still so skinny for your age. Do your parents not feed you enough?” 

Wonwoo wanted to scoff at her, but he kept a neutral expression. 

“No they do, I don’t know maybe it’s my fast metabolism or something,” he refuted her claims. He couldn’t wait to get out of her sight. 

“You know, maybe you should start going to the gym, get some muscle on you or something,” she patted his lanky arm and laughed that dreadful laugh. The ones that have no real humour behind it, just to cover up the obvious dig she took at his appearance. 

“Yeah maybe,” he dismisses her to head into the house. Setting his luggage down to check whether or not you’ve texted him yet. 

It was about five in the evening in Changwon, but he knew you wouldn’t be asleep. Faintly recalling how you were planning to stay up late every night to watch BuzzFeed unsolved videos, or until your mom yelled at you to go to bed. 

[4:15 p.m. kst]  [you: i stayed up all night watching buzzfeed unsolved]  [you: im going crazy i keep getting paranoid to the point i’ve turned all my mirrors backwards]  [you: hope ur flight was ok tho!!! 🫶]

He chuckled to himself, remembering your wide eyes and elaborate plan to sneak snacks into your room in the early hours of the morning behind your parents’ backs. Wonwoo missed you, and your stupid obsession with horror podcasts and YouTube shows. He missed the way your smile would shine so bright as you talked about all the haunted places the hosts would visit. 

Wonwoo did not care for horror or anything scary, but if you were to ask him to stay up all night on Facetime binge-watching your little Buzzfeed videos, he would do so in a heartbeat. 

Two days down, about another 89 to go, Wonwoo thought to himself as he looked through your messages with him. You had already spammed the chat mercilessly about your first two days of summer break, and your intricate mission to stay up without accidentally falling asleep in the middle of it all. 

[6:00 p.m. kst] [1 photo attachment]  [you: currently trying to sneak snacks into my room without my mom knowing]  [you: u better not snitch 😾]  [you: its so boring w out u here btw SO COME BACK SOON PLSS]  [you: ok thats enuff…txt me when u land!]

Wonwoo really missed you. 

…

One more week and Wonwoo would finally get to see you again. The ability to talk to you in person, hug you, and spend time with you gave him something to look forward to, and thankfully, summer break went by fast because of it. 

He had spent most of his time in Korea eating at local food spots, going to the gym, and trying a lot of new things with his brother, Seongho, giving them time to bond before he went off to University again. Wonwoo had missed his brother dearly during the school year, but at least they were able to pass the time together during summer break. 

It was initially his brother’s convincing that got him to go to the gym for the very first time. The idea of going to a place with a lot of sweaty, adrenaline-filled people kind of frightened him, but the more he went, the more he started to like what he saw in the mirror. Wonwoo’s shoulders had broadened, and his lanky arms finally started to show signs of muscles. He was satisfied in knowing that all of his hard work, and Seongho’s encouragement had finally paid off. 

Seongho told him he looked a lot more carefree now that he wasn’t so worried about his appearance all the time. And it was then that Wonwoo realized that he wasn’t all that bad-looking, after all. 

Wonwoo had begun to take pride in his vanity. He searched for different ways to style his hair, bought glasses that better suited his face shape, and, most of all, did his best to act more confidently. The sudden change made him wonder how you would react. He had been anticipating your reaction, wanting to see the look on your face once he returned home. 

“You got it. Just one more rep, and we can switch,” Seongho encouraged Wonwoo as he tried to push the bar up from his chest. 

His muscles were aching in the most addictive and satisfying way. He almost wished he had started working out earlier because only good things seemed to have come ever since he stepped foot into the gym. 

“Okay! You’re done, that was good,” his older brother high-fived him, a proud smile dancing along his lips. 

“Thanks, but my arms feel like jelly now,” he huffed a chuckle before gulping down the contents of his water bottle. 

Seongho chuckled along with him before setting himself down on the workout bench. His actions faltered, and he slowly observed the mirror in front of him, raising his eyebrows in amusement. 

“Uh, don’t look now, but I think that girl is staring at you,” Seongho tilted his head in the girl’s direction and Wonwoo couldn’t be more confused. 

“Huh? Are you sure it's me they’re looking at and not you?” 

“I’m serious! You should go talk to her,” Seongho grinned, pushing his younger brother in the direction of the girl who was supposedly eyeing Wonwoo. 

“Hyung!” Wonwoo calls out but it falls on deaf ears as his older brother begins his bench presses. 

Wonwoo turns towards the girl in the most awkward way humanly possible. He was completely dumbfounded and not sure what to do in the situation he’d been put in. The girl who was staring at him waved flirtatiously, and before he could even think about his next move, his feet had begun to move on their own accord. 

“Hi, I saw you working out over there, are you new here?” she asked him, batting her eyelashes. 

“Uhm, I guess? I’m only here for the summer though,” he spoke with apprehension, because what the hell was he even supposed to say? 

“Oh! Me too. My name is Haein, by the way.” Haein’s smile reached her eyes as she giggled, and her hand extended to shake Wonwoo’s. 

Wonwoo’s actions were practically robotic, rubbing his sweaty palms on his gym shorts before taking her hand in his. He remembers thinking about how soft her hands were, and how pretty she looked with her hair tied up in a messy bun. 

“I’m Wonwoo.” 

“Wonwoo, hmm, that’s a cute name. But I think I would like it more in my contacts,” she flirted shamelessly, her fingers squeezing his sweaty bicep. 

Wonwoo’s mind short-circuited, and he took out his phone from his pocket so fast it almost slipped out of his grasp. Haein found it endearing though, and happily gave him her phone number. 

They talked for the rest of Wonwoo's time at the gym and promised to hang out more before they both went home at the end of the summer. 

To put it simply, Wonwoo was on cloud nine for the first time since he’s been here. Suddenly his aunt Seo-Ah’s words weren’t so hurtful, his confidence had skyrocketed, plus he had a beautiful girl to talk to for the rest of his vacation. 

By the end of summer, Wonwoo started to miss you less and less. Even though he still saw you as his best friend, he began to find peace in other things, like the fresh air that breezed through his fingers or the scent of the salty water misting its way onto the shore of his hometown. Finally, for the first time in his life, Wonwoo felt serene, and that made him a little more whole than he was when he first landed in Changwon. 

…

The after-effects of Wonwoo’s surprisingly pleasant summer vacation hadn’t worn off just yet. The gift of Haein appearing in his life seemed to just keep on giving. Not only did she live overseas, she had told him that she was actually from the same city as him. It was a little hard to believe at first as if he was the main character in a cheesy rom-com, but he couldn’t find it in him to complain. Haein made him feel wanted, excited, and cared for. 

Wonwoo wasn’t entirely devoid of those feelings, especially with you as his best friend, but it was different coming from Haein. Every time he saw her, he felt like he was going to throw up, in a good way of course, but she also boosted his confidence. He liked that she made him feel like he was a man worth depending on. 

Haein was his first real relationship, and although he was still young, he could see himself being with her for a long time. 

…

Quite like the seasons, Wonwoo’s feelings for Haein changed drastically by the time school was back in session. Although he and Haein lived in the same city, there was a lot more than just distance that separated them. 

Six months into their relationship, Wonwoo began to doubt himself. He was less eager to meet her or even text her. He could only blame himself for how things turned out with Haein. Despite his adolescence, he believed he loved her; he just got tired and disinterested. 

On a subconscious level, Wonwoo could not stop comparing Haein to you, and as fucked up as that was, it was completely out of his control. Why didn’t Haein ever want to talk about what Wonwoo was interested in? Why did she seem bored out of her mind when he would delve into his theories about his favourite shows? Or anything about himself and what he liked. As though she didn’t see him for the Wonwoo he was, the personality he had behind his looks. 

“It all makes sense now! Eren had Zeke fooled!” Wonwoo couldn’t contain his excitement about the newest episode, but Haein didn’t seem interested in hearing her boyfriend geek out. 

“I'm sorry babe, but I gave up after the first episode,” Haein sighed into the phone, and if Wonwoo could guess, she was probably picking at her cuticles out of boredom. “I just didn’t get anything that was happening.” 

“Wait, really?” He was a little offended, how could she not be obsessing over the beautiful intricacies of his favourite anime? Wonwoo didn’t understand. 

He didn’t understand because when he introduced you to the show, you texted him the next day saying you were caught up to where he had left off. It amazed Wonwoo how fast you were at binge-watching shows, especially because he had told you about it on a weekday. 

You came into school the morning after with dark circles under your eyes, but even with that tired look on your face, you ran up to him with so much eagerness while thanking him for urging you to watch his favourite show. You two were obsessed and never missed out on watching the weekly episodes together.  It had become you and Wonwoo’s thing, and even though he wanted Haein to join in on the fun, he found himself more entertained by your theories than by talking on the phone with his girlfriend. 

It dawned on him that he wished that Haein acted a little more like you. And it made him feel guilty. He knew he should’ve loved Haein no matter her interests, but he wanted someone who could understand his nerdy side. And that was only something that you were able to do. 

“Honestly, I’m really tired, I’m gonna go to bed now okay?” Haein’s voice brought Wonwoo out of his thoughts. 

“Oh okay. Night.” He said before ending the call so quickly that Haein’s ‘I love you’ was cut off mid-sentence. 

Haein probably had thought he had forgotten, but Wonwoo just didn’t want to say those words if he didn’t mean it. He had grown annoyed, and a little bored of practically talking to a wall all night.  

Comparable to the light switching off in his bedroom, he decided to do the same thing with Haein. He pushed his guilt aside and decided it was probably best to leave Haein and Changwon in the past. The memories of his last week of summer with her would become something he would look back on in the future and smile. But he didn’t want to pretend any longer, it would’ve just hurt her more if he stayed, he couldn’t help that he fell out of love with her. The least he could do was not lead her on. 

Wonwoo’s relationship with Haein was merely a catalyst and a peek into what the rest of his relationships were going to look like in adulthood. He was never able to comprehend why he couldn’t keep feelings for anyone after the six-month mark, and it almost frustrated him. Something was missing in every single relationship he had been in, and he wasn’t sure what that was. But he was determined to find an answer. 

three, present time.

The answer was you. But of course, Wonwoo didn’t know that. 

“Are you gonna keep checking your phone every five minutes or are you gonna do your homework?” Mingyu lectures him. 

The two were studying in the library before their stats midterm, but Wonwoo’s mind couldn’t help but wonder. He hasn’t been acting like himself since the night of Seokmin’s party. 

“Oh, right.” Wonwoo clears his throat, putting his phone face down on the table. 

Wonwoo drags his palms against his face, trying to not let sleep overtake him. It is not his fault that every time he tries to close his eyes, your face comes into his mind. The memory of you smiling with Seokmin made his insides twist. He hasn’t seen you smile that hard in a while, and he almost misses how your eyes crinkle whenever you do so. You were practically haunting him and he had no idea how to make it stop. 

“Not to be rude, but you’ve been looking like shit lately. What’s wrong?” Mingyu questions him with furrowed eyebrows. 

Wonwoo rolls his eyes at his friend, he didn’t have to be insulted to know how crappy he looked, but Mingyu seemed to only be telling the truth. Wonwoo did look and feel like shit. With the amount of near run-ins he’s had with you and Seokmin on campus, he’s begun to sense that it’s some sort of karma. Whatever that karma may be for, he fully believes that it’s completely unwarranted. 

Forcing a hand through his dark locks, Wonwoo contemplates whether or not he should just go up to you in person and demand answers. It’s uncommon for the two of you to fight, or ignore each other for that matter. But he can’t help but presume that if he were to confront you about your silence, there would be no rightful explanation. Or at least not the explanation that he wants from you. 

Every time he even fathoms the thought of barging into your apartment and asking what the hell is wrong, there’s a lingering nervousness that he wishes would dissipate, leading him to lay awake with his thoughts for hours on end. 

“Thanks for that, asshole, I just haven’t been getting much sleep,” Wonwoo huffs. 

“Okay, obviously. You practically look like a zombie with the way you’ve been moping around. What has been keeping you up?” Mingyu presses. 

It’s not every day that Wonwoo indulges in his problems with Mingyu, that’s what you were for. However, he can’t talk about his problems about you, to you, so he’ll have to settle for the next best thing.  

“Y/N has been ignoring me since the night we all hung out at Seokmin’s,” Wonwoo confesses, and it feels nice. 

For the past two weeks, he’s been keeping his frustrations to himself, and now that he can freely speak about it lifts the weight off his chest. 

Mingyu snorts, obviously finding his friend’s situation humorous. Wonwoo sneers at Mingyu’s reaction, clearly not finding anything about you ignoring him funny. 

“Serves you right, you’re a dick to her, man.” Mingyu shrugs without any remorse to spare. 

“What?” Wonwoo sputters, since when was he a dick to you? His best friend? 

“How blind are you? You have glasses and everything but you can’t see how mean you are to her sometimes? Really?” Mingyu almost sounds offended on your behalf as he stares at Wonwoo with an incredulous expression. 

“I am not a dick to her. She would definitely tell me if I’ve ever said something to hurt her feelings,” Wonwoo defends himself. 

Attempting to rack his brain of all your moments together, he can’t seem to pick out a memory where he has been especially rude to you. Of course, you two teased each other from time to time, but he wasn’t a complete asshole. He knew when to not take a joke too far or purposely try to upset you. 

“You’re a dumbass.” Mingyu lets out a frustrated sigh which only aggravates Wonwoo even more. 

“Could you stop with the insults for one second and just tell me what’s going on?” 

Shutting his laptop, Mingyu’s posture becomes serious, a deviation from his usual carefree and smiley self. He cares about you just as much as the next person, so if he had to reality-check his friend, then so be it. 

“She cares about you a lot. And you treat her like shit. It’s not about what you’ve said to her, it’s your actions. Ever since we were in high school all you’ve done is use her to solve your problems. I can’t even blame her for wanting to cut you off. I don’t know what happened at Seokmin’s place for her to realize that, but you don’t deserve her,” Mingyu confesses. 

Soaking up each word that left Mingyu’s mouth, Wonwoo sat in a pool of perplexity. There are so many questions flying through his mind, yet he can’t seem to utter a single word. Is that really how everyone perceives his friendship with you? 

Wonwoo is going to throw up. There's a tightness in his chest and a burning sensation behind his eyes. He wants nothing more than to hear all of this coming from you, not Mingyu. The frustration of wanting to talk to you about this is taking a toll on him, he doesn’t want to believe that Mingyu is telling the truth. 

It’s not fair. It’s not fair that Mingyu gets to know these things about you while Wonwoo is just left in the dark. Did he make you feel like you couldn’t tell him anything? 

Ever since Wonwoo met you, it was evident that he can be quite merciless when it comes to his relationships, but that’s romantic, not platonic. Wonwoo was convinced that he treated you equally because that’s how it's supposed to be. 

Hearing Mingyu talk about his friendship with you in that way caused Wonwoo’s whole world to crash down. And the only thing he can do in moments like these is seek out your comfort, except he can’t anymore. Not only has he been a terrible friend without realizing it, but he’s pushed you so far to the brink that you’d rather ignore him than attempt to hash out what’s been troubling you.

“I-I didn’t know that's how you guys saw our friendship,” Wonwoo falters, clearly taken aback, and still attempting to fully comprehend what’s been said to him. 

“It’s not that we see your friendship with her that way, it is that way. If I was her, I would’ve cut you off a long time ago.” 

“Well, thanks, Gyu. I feel like this could’ve been said before she started ignoring me,” Wonwoo huffs, trying to come up with the words to explain his side.

“It was kinda obvious, man,” Mingyu shrugs. 

“Was it, though? If I had known, I would’ve at least tried to be better,” Wonwoo attests, tired of feeling like the bad guy. 

“How about you just talk to her about it instead of sulking,” Mingyu suggests. 

Desperation hijacked his rational thinking, making Mingyu’s advice sound plausible. Talking to you seemed out of the equation since you started ignoring him; he feared you wouldn’t even answer if he tried to call or show up at your door. But he can’t go on like this, especially now that he knows there is more to your friendship than he had initially thought. 

four. 

For the first time in Wonwoo’s life, he’s unsure about what decision to make. Although he wants nothing more than to knock on your door, his feet stop him from even entering your building. So instead of mucking up the courage to talk to you face to face, he waits inside his car. Without a solid plan, he continues to sit there, biding his time. 

Never has he acted so pathetic in his life, not even for the sake of his relationships. He knows that nothing will come from sitting there, just watching, but before he can even comprehend what he is doing and where he is going, he is already across the street from your place. 

Gripping on the leather of his steering wheel, he just couldn’t help himself. He can’t help but watch your silhouette from your window. The curtains are drawn, but there are glimpses of you walking around. He’s such a fucking loser. What type of person has Wonwoo become that he resorts to stalking you from the front of your building? 

After all that Mingyu has enlightened him on, Wonwoo’s attitude has become less angry and more apologetic. There was a line he pondered crossing, and it practically mocked him. Stepping over that line would mean getting answers from you, demanding to be brought into the light that you had snuffed out from under him. But his uncertainty of the outcome outweighed his decision to do so.

That same apologetic attitude died a fiery death after watching Seokmin leave your apartment. There you were in all your glory, the tiny sleep set clinging onto your body as the wind forced its way into the door of your building. Then there was Seokmin, grinning like a fucking idiot as he waved goodbye. 

“Shit!” Wonwoo grunts as he ducks down, not wanting to blow his cover. His car was visible from where the two of you stood, hoping that you weren’t able to recognize it in the dead of night.  

Boring holes into the back of Seokmin’s head, Wonwoo's guilt diminished, floating away with the cold night breeze. You were fine, and he should’ve known that the root of all his problems started with the name Lee Seokmin. 

The shape of your figure had faded into the confines of your building. Yet Wonwoo can still make out your body through the glass window of your door. He can’t help but gawk at your skimpy attire, your ass practically on display for the whole world to see. The deathly twist in his gut intensifies the more he ponders on what may have happened during Seokmin’s visit. Wonwoo desperately wants to stop thinking about the possibilities, especially because your lack of clothing only fueled that inferno inside his mind. 

He’s never been more annoyed at Seokmin in his entire life, not until today. 

Wonwoo allowed himself to ignore the signs, but only for a moment. But this, this he can’t ignore. Not after what he witnessed. He allowed himself to stay ignorant when it came to your silence because he had been so naive to think that it was your decision. Now that he knows Seokmin had somehow weaselled his way closer to you, Wonwoo had to make sure this plan of his didn’t go on any longer. 

…

There is a heat inside Wonwoo that, for some reason, he cannot extinguish. The curve and outlines of your body burn in the back of his retinas. No matter how many times he’s tried to put himself to sleep, the image of you is clear as day in his mind.  Sparks crawl their way up his spine, and he desperately wishes that it would just go away. 

There’s a point where Wonwoo gave up on trying to sleep altogether. Thoughts of you, your body, and the oh-so-painful reminder that you’re still ignoring him. How can he sleep with everything going on? What made things worse, was the fact that the one person he wanted to call most likely wouldn’t pick up.

Wonwoo wasn’t the type of person to let his emotions get the better of him, but this abrupt rift that has been torn between you two has him acting out in ways he’s never acted before. 

The urge to grab his phone, to text you, to give it one more try, grows perpetually every second he lies awake. 

One more time. One more attempt. What does he have to lose? 

Wonwoo stands up, pacing around nonsensically, trying to think of what to say. For all he knows, you may not even answer, but there is the urge to hear your voice one more time and see your name pop up on his screen. Wonwoo yearns for you so much so that it supersedes any part of common sense he has left in him. 

[12:52 a.m.]  [wons <3: darling. can we talk? please?]  [not delivered] 

The silence within the four walls of Wonwoo’s bedroom is harrowing. Out of all the outcomes he had considered before he texted you, the outcome of you blocking him was not even on the list. 

Before jumping to some sort of conclusion, Wonwoo’s finger hovers over the call button with skepticism. If you don’t pick up, then that’s it. That would be the definitive answer to all his qualms. 

“The number you have called is not available, please leave a message at the tone,” an automated voice affirmed his suspicions. 

The notification is gut-wrenching, but he can’t just sit here and pretend like it’s okay for you to do this. To decide without any of his input. What kind of friend were you to just drop him like he was nothing but an old toy? How unfair did you have to be to not even try to talk it out before you completely cut him off? 

five. 

Pacing outside the door of your apartment, Wonwoo hasn’t been this nervous in years. He has always been so sure of himself, but it’s almost two in the morning and he’s still continuing to weigh his options. 

It’s either you’ll let him in, and talk for the first time in almost two weeks, or you’ll kick him out before he can step a foot past the door. Desperately, he desires that it be the first option. Losing you over this would break him, and not in the way you would expect. 

He’s already lost his mind. This shouldn’t be the way you two break it off. It won’t be the way you two break it off. Not if Wonwoo has a say in the situation. 

Sweaty palms and white knuckles rasp against the dark oak that barricades himself from you. There’s nothing that Wonwoo wants more than to see your face glowing in front of him. And before he can even get a word out to you, the door whips open. The person on the other side is someone Wonwoo is starting to get really sick of seeing. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Both Wonwoo and Seokmin speak in unison. 

Scoffing, Wonwoo rolls his eyes at his so-called friend, “I think I should be asking you that. You clearly don’t live here.” 

“Minnie? Is someone at the door?” your voice is as sweet as a glass of lemonade on a hot summer’s day. 

Minnie. Wonwoo almost threw up in his mouth. 

Minnie. The nickname is parallel to nails scraping against a chalkboard. 

“Yeah! Your neighbour just needed to borrow something,” Seokmin goads through a sickly sweet smile, eyes never leaving Wonwoo’s. Without as much as a word of mockery, Seokmin’s expression had said more than his words ever could have. 

Despite his soft demeanour, Wonwoo knew there was something vile hiding under Seokmin’s thick skin. 

A rebuttal to his deception is on the tip of Wonwoo’s tongue, but your melodic voice echoes throughout your home once more. The refute dies within his throat, and he hopes you will come out and see what your “neighbour” is looking for. 

“Okay!” is the only response you give out. The reverberation of the water hitting the shower tiles causes Wonwoo’s stomach to practically lurch out his abdomen. 

“Whatever you’re doing, she’s not gonna fall for it,” Wonwoo jeered, staring at Seokmin with looks that should kill, if he could. 

Seokmin chuckles bitterly, “She already has.” 

There was no need for Wonwoo to put two and two together; he already knew what Seokmin was alluding to. It left a dreadful taste in his mouth. 

Puffing out his chest, Wonwoo takes a step closer towards the man he once considered a close friend. Sizing him up, he knew that Seokmin was the reason for the wedge in your friendship. And Wonwoo had no problem treating him as such. 

“You’re fucking sick, you know that?” Wonwoo practically spits in his face. 

“I could say the same thing for you,” Seokmin mutters, unperturbed, “I didn’t have to do anything you know? Just a little push and she fell into my lap, voluntarily.” 

“I’m not just going to let you get away with something like this. She’s my best friend.” 

“I think the correct tense is was. She was your best friend,” Seokmin taunted. 

He was wrong about Seokmin. Even though he had known about his friend's crush on you for years, Wonwoo didn’t expect the lengths Seokmin would go to in order to cut him out of the picture. 

Before a breath could even escape his lips, Seokmin cuts him off, “I think it’s time for you to leave. She doesn’t want to see you.”

The last few words that he heard come out of Seokmin’s mouth nearly fell on deaf ears. It was practically a whisper, laced with enough malice to almost kill the fighting spirit inside him. Almost. 

“By the way, don’t text her anymore. I’ve made sure she won’t get any more notifications from you.” 

The realization had struck Wonwoo hard. He knew you well enough that you wouldn’t just block him so carelessly, without a word no less. Yet he was no match for Seokmin, not after the fact that you allowed him into your home, your heart, so willingly. 

…

Lying in wait, Wonwoo observes the door of your building once more. The distinct difference this time was that Wonwoo had no guilt left in him to care. Whether you see him or his car across the street didn’t matter to him anymore. The only thing Wonwoo wanted to make sure of was whether or not Seokmin would be leaving your place. 

After what had felt like hours, he watched the same scene from last night unfold in front of him once more. The abhorrent hug goodbye that is exchanged between you and Seokmin is nothing but a cue for Wonwoo to make his move.

With as much grace as a bull in a china shop, he slams the car door shut, not even bothering to lock it before he stalks his way to your apartment. The anticipation caused the hairs on his neck to stand straight up. As he presses the button to your floor, he can only deliberate whether any of Seokmin’s words hold any truth behind them.

 Certainly not, right? Not after all the years you spent together. His friendship with you couldn’t end on this vague note. You were always the sentimental type, holding onto trinkets, memories, and even people for far too long. It should be the same with Wonwoo; he believed it would be the same. 

If there is a chance, you should allow him to talk and voice his opinion. No, Wonwoo will voice his opinion; there has never been a time when you haven’t let him speak. 

As the elevator ascends to your floor, anxiety begins to weigh down his shoulders. The feeling is atypical and Wonwoo hates how his throat constricts. He hates how his clothes feel too tight and stuffy despite his casual attire. Is this how it feels? To actually care about someone and whether their decisions might affect him later on? 

Footsteps echo within the hallway, and with each step he takes, the illusion steadily becomes more vivid. Your front door almost looks like it’ll take a mile before Wonwoo can reach it, rather than a few feet away. 

After what felt like years, Wonwoo stands before the entrance of your home once more. The foreboding tension won’t vanish and it’s starting to make him itch. Without another thought, Wonwoo forces himself to knock on the door knowing it’ll be you who answers this time, not Seokmin. 

“Minnie? Did you leave something agai—,” Abrupt silence engulfs your words, leaving nothing but an echo to resonate within the expanse of your long hallway.

“Wonwoo…” your voice falters, like you genuinely didn’t expect to see him, let alone have him standing outside your door. 

“Did you fuck him?” Wonwoo cuts to the chase, not leaving any room for you to ask questions. 

His blunt words caused a frown to grace your soft pink lips, and Wonwoo almost felt bad for being so frank. But he doesn’t have time to beg for your forgiveness, the anger surmounting to nothing but harsh words and a push past you and into your home. 

“Did you fuck him? Yes or no?”  Wonwoo continues to press you for answers, agitated that you have the audacity to stand there dumbfounded. As if you don’t know who he's talking about. “C’mon, you know who I’m talking about,” he can almost laugh at the situation in front of him. 

How is it that all the rage he built up for Seokmin is being taken out on you? Wonwoo had no clue, but the thought of his friend-now-enemy defiling you, tasting you, while Wonwoo desperately waited for your call caused him to direct all his anger to you. Perhaps it’s undeserving to do so, but Wonwoo’s frustration spoke for him before his brain could even register what he was saying. 

“The past two weeks you’ve been ignoring me, spending your time with him, do you know where his true intentions lie?” Wonwoo continues to rant with unpreparedness. 

He didn’t plan what he was going to say because there was a moment of doubt, he had expected you to open the door just to slam it right back in his face. The look you gave him almost brought him to his knees. Your doe-eyed expression could’ve broken down every wall he’s built if only he hadn’t let his anger proceed him. 

Wonwoo should’ve cried, to plead for you to take him back. To go back to the way things were. He knew he fucked up the moment he uttered a single word. The hurt flashed across your face as though Wonwoo turned your world upside down. 

“Seokmin doesn’t care about you, and I’ll tell you that now because you need to hear it. He just wants to fuck you! And you just gave that to him?” He can’t stop talking. 

“Stop. Just stop fucking talking Wonwoo. Do you hear yourself right now?” You cut off his rant. “Out of all people, who gave you the right to tell me who I can and cannot fuck? Especially knowing the type of person that you are. It doesn’t matter if Seokmin and I had sex. What matters is the fact that you think you can barge in here at two-thirty in the morning interrogating me over a situation that doesn’t involve you.” 

“No. I’m just trying to help you. Seokmin isn’t the person that you think he is,” Wonwoo seethes, annoyed at how you’re twisting his words. 

The bile in his throat rose further, as you stood before him like he had just kicked your dog. Wonwoo’s extremely aware of the hole he had dug for himself, but he couldn’t stop. His urge to self-sabotage overrides his common sense. 

“That is exactly what we’re not going to do right now. Seokmin has been a better friend to me than you have been in all the years we’ve known each other. I have been by your side for years, bending over backwards. I was at your beck and call and I’m tired. Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and warn myself about you. I fell in love with my best friend, and the worst part was that you didn’t care enough to notice. 

“I gave up so much for you, Wonwoo. I lost myself trying to please you. But I give up. I was drowning in my love for you. It consumed every part of me to the point I couldn’t even come up for air. And I’m just sick of it. I know there’s a part of you that cares about me too, but it’ll never be equal. I’ll always love you more than you love me, and I don’t want to feel this way anymore.” 

“What hurts me the most, is that you thought it would be okay to accuse me of things I didn’t even do. I did not sleep with Seokmin, but why is that what you care about?  He respects me and just wants to be there for me. And that’s a lot more than I could ever say about you.” 

Your voice was terrifyingly calm, with neither a lilt nor a hiccup during your speech. The heft of your declaration crashed back down onto Wonwoo, leaving him at a loss for words. 

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing to come out of his mouth after a long pause. 

“Please. It’s late, you should go home,” you sigh, but Wonwoo couldn’t move an inch. He refused. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats himself, looking into your eyes, searching for the look of endearment you had always given him. 

“Wonwoo…” there it is. Your voice had broken for the first time since Wonwoo stepped foot in the place. 

“Please. I’m so fucking sorry. For getting angry, for doubting you, for not realizing how badly you were hurting,” Wonwoo resorted to pleading. 

A look of desperation mixed with agony was the only thing you could exchange for his apologies.

The stare of grief you had given him caused a shooting pain to swell throughout his limbs. The one that begins at his fingertips, creeping up to tug at the strings that held his heart together. He wanted this nightmare to end, and he was sure you did too. 

“It’s time for you to go. I’m tired, Wonwoo.”  A single tear slips and trickles down your cheek. 

He regrets not wiping it away for you at that moment. It was the first time he had been so unsure of his actions. So, instead, he walked out of your apartment, leaving nothing but the lingering scent of his cologne and a piece of his heart. 

Wonwoo's world was crumbling underneath him, and there was only one person he refused to let go of. He should’ve known.

He should’ve known that you were in front of him this whole damn time.

end of act one.

⊹ a/n: if you liked this story pls dont be afraid to let me know thru a reblog, comment or ask! also a big ty to my beshies forever @vapidlynn and @bunnyjjongie who i've texted multiple times in the wee hours of the morning for reassurance abt this thing hehe.

[celestie0]

hi my friends! hope you're all doing well. just wanted to come on here and share a little updates w you guys (if you're still here lol)

i guess it's been like a month n a half since i formally went on hiatus, and it's been nice! i got kinda sick for a little bit lmfaooo which was tough to manage w school, but i'm better now

although i took time away from my blog, i still delved in writing here n there. i haven't written anything for kickoff since tbh i'm in such a slump w it. but i still have big plans for stuff that happens after ch13, so hopefully i can just push through this next chapter and get to a better place. thanks so much to anyone that is still interested in the story, it means a lot to me. i know i'm so slow w updates and the story has been going on for almost a year now, but the continued support is so sweet! even though i didn't work on writing it these past one n a half months, i still really love it and plan to finish it.

i'm not sure if many people remember that i had this sort of "apocalypse" gojo x reader au about an asteroid being set to hit the earth in three days, and reader n gojo are ex lovers n the impending end of the world makes them break no-contact...yeah i finished writing the first chapter for it and i really love it so far! it's like set in new york which is really fun haha i love stories where new york is kind of its own "character" if that makes sense...it will definitely be a limited series w only 4 chapters or so, but i kinda wanna finish all 4 chapters before i start posting it bc i don't want it to be a drawn out series in terms of posting since i think it'd be best enjoyed in frequent succession if that makes sense

as for ihm, i think i wrote the most for ihm during my hiatus. i finished three chapters for it, but they are shorter chapters (around 3-4k words). i kinda realized one of my biggest reasons for burnout w my fics were the reaaaaallly long chapters...like didn't i have a 22k chapter for kickoff or sumn lol. idk i can't remember. but anyways, yeah the mindset behind the longer chapters was bc i liked each chapter to kinda have its own conflict, build up, tension then resolution in a sense. but it was exhausting to write that way tbh lol. so i think moving forward, for ihm, i will have shorter chapters. i just don't wanna think to much about things anymore, and write from my heart, bc i have a lot of things planned for ihm, and among the criticism i've received for my writing choices vs my own vision for the story, i've realized during my hiatus that the only way i can finish ihm, or any of my storeis for that matter, is if i just.........stop giving a fuck about it. lol idk if that sounds strange to say, but like, i don't want to over-edit anything. i don't want to think too much about redundancy. i don't want to flower things up or cut stuff out. i'm at the point where imma just write a first draft, check for grammarly errors, and then post it. i guess the reason i'm sharing this is because idk if this means that people may enjoy my writing less since i will admittedly be spending much less time on it than i did before, but tbh i realized i find the most joy while i'm writing, and not while i'm editing. so i want to spend as little time on the latter as possible, and if that changes the quality of my work, then so be it.

anyways, hmm as for hiatus. i guess i'm off hiatus now? i really enjoyed being off of tumblr tbh this app has a lot of questionable content at times (esp in jjk community) and it also did wonders for my studying bc i wasn't spending time doomscrolling or shit posting anymore lmfaooo. but as for writing in particular, i think i will start to post ihm again exclusively. i can't say anything about kickoff or my other projects, but i feel comfortable to start posting ihm again.

sorry, i know that i have kept my replies and ask box off for a long time. but i will open them again once i start posting chapters because i really miss interacting with you guys.

anywho, these are my updates lol i'm like not sure how many of my readers are still here or which ones have moved on but that's ok, i'm grateful to anyone n everyone. hope to see you all soon again!

[604to647]

The Might of the Realm

8.9K / Din Djarin x Princess!Reader

Summary: Din Djarin, General to your father’s army, finds himself in the gladiator arena of a foreign planet fighting for the success of your diplomatic mission.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Established secret relationship (they are stupid in love), Mando'a nicknames (mesh'la, cyar'ika, cyare), the helmet comes off but reader is blindfolded, bath sex, fingering, unprotected PiV (Star Wars is made up and in space, so we pretend it's fine). A wee bit of angst if you squint.

A/N: Written for @beefrobeefcal's The Glandolorian challenge! This is the same AU that I imagined for my Kiss It Better drabble, with the same Princess!reader: set post Season 3, Carson Teva has dispatched Din to a New Republic stronghold planet to train and strengthen their armies; he becomes their General and falls in love with the realm's princess. I imagine this story to take place before Kiss It Better, when they are still sneaking around 🥰.

Many moons before another General (🤭) came on the scene, I outlined a long story for this AU that I'm not sure I'll ever write, so kindly forgive my self indulgent word count - I really took advantage of this challenge for a chance to write these two 🥰 Struggled a bit with the Dieter Bravo reference, but I think I found something that works (Thank you to @morallyinept for your invaluable character dialogue database!) Also got inspired by someone's Gladiator II premier look and snuck in one (1) The Princess Bride reference 🤭 / Dividers by @saradika-graphics

“No.”

“Princess, it will be fine.”

“I said ‘no’, Din.  We came to pay our respects to the new rule and to affirm that our established trade routes through Flavin 5’s space will remain intact.  We did not come to be participate in some archaic gladiatorial fighting match to assert dominance.”

Even through the blankness of Din’s visor you can tell he’s amused by your hiss of a retort but is holding back his reaction.  His stoic and impassive demeanor normally reserved for others, you know that if he’s being less than fully direct with you it’s for one of two reasons: 1) he doesn’t want to lie or 2) he doesn’t want to risk your ire.  You suppose it’s the latter in this case, and that thought alone is reason enough for you to calm your emotional response to this predicament and reassess.

Taking a deep breath, you rest one hand on your hip and mimic a stance you’ve seen your fearsome General make many times; with your other you gesture at Din to present his argument for voluntarily sending your guard, the top lieutenants of the army he commands, into a battle arena on foreign soil.

“Mesh’la, I know your instinct is to protect your people, but you know as well as I that our troops, and especially the men who have been deemed fit to accompany you on this diplomatic mission, are more than capable of handling themselves in any combat situation.”

Din almost chuckles at the way you tilt your pretty head ready to interrupt, his feisty cyar’ika; he continues hurriedly, but with the calm confidence he knows you respond to, “You diligently studied Flavian traditions and history before embarking on this trip – you yourself taught me all I know of these people.  Despite the new ruling family’s decision to resurrect this ancient custom, what is your sense of these people?  Do they seem barbaric?  Cruel for cruelty’s sake?  This isn’t the Petranaki arena on Geonosis.”

You would roll your eyes at Din’s perfectly level-headed analysis, if you didn’t consider his strategic and tactical mind one of his most attractive qualities; Din’s shrewd ability to consider all angles of any situation is one of your army’s greatest strengths, and one that never fails to weaken you at the knees.  He’s taking this situation as seriously as you need him to, and so, you consider your answer carefully - working through your thoughts out aloud, “No, they are not a cruel people – and you’re right, these gladiatorial games were never about execution or spectacle like they were on Geonosis.  The ancient Flavian events were meant to bring the people, no matter class or station, together to be entertained, usually in celebration.”

“Do you think that tradition is being respected?  Or do you suspect some hidden agenda?”

You remunerate on this, thinking back to the new Flavian royal family you met earlier today, “No.  I believe them to be sincere.  Their purpose in resurrecting this historic custom is, I think, to build a connection with their people.  Participating in the gladiator match would be a show a respect for the Flavian people and a celebration of the new royal family.”  You take a deep breath, “So, we should participate.”

“I agree completely, Princess.”

This time you do roll your eyes at Din, but there’s no arrogance in your expression, “Fine.  But Din, just because there’s no ill intent does not mean there isn’t risk.  We don’t know what to expect from such a fight – there hasn’t been one like it held in centuries.  Who knows what opponents our men would face in the arena?”

“No matter who or what our troops are pitted against tomorrow, Princess, there is no doubt in my mind that they will be able to handle it.”

Nodding thoughtfully, you have to agree, Din did train them himself after all, “I believe it.  Especially since they will have their fearless General there to lead them.”

“No.”

“Din, it will be fine.”

“I said ‘no’, mesh’la.  I cannot leave you unprotected and without guard in the Royal Box,” huffs Din.

Stepping into Din’s space, you lay your hands on the shiny beskar that sits across his expansive chest, swearing you can feel it vibrate beneath your gentle palm from his thundering heartbeat; tipping yourself towards the great warrior before you, you feel his big, gloved hands move to your waist to steady you just as you knew they would.  Giving Din your most innocuous expression, you coo, “There is no need for me to have a protective guard if we deem the Flavian royals to be of honourable intent; if it is safe enough for our soldiers to participate in the gladiatorial games, then it is safe enough for me to be alone in the Royal Box.”

Din’s smile at your cleverness and persuasive tactics is hidden beneath his helmet, but he’s yet not ready to show you he’s given in so he remains as silent and cold as the armour he wears.

You use this opportunity to loop one arm around your hulking General’s neck to bring him closer to you still, your free hand takes one of his from your waist and brings it up to his helmet in a silent request.  The familiar click of Din’s helmet unlocking is the only invitation you need - using your nose to lift the brim of his helmet slightly above his strong jaw so you can find his plush lips with your own, you feel the hint of a smile against your pout before you deepen the kiss.  Opening to let Din lick into your mouth, you melt against the hard metal that represents everything he is to you: extraordinary, flawless, indestructible.

And such a good kisser, letting loose a soft whimper you nearly miss Din chuckle something against your lips.

“What’s that, General?” you sigh dreamily.

“I said, Princess, I saw what you did there, and that was NOT the way,” chastising with no actual bite, Din lowers and relocks his helmet.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” flashing him that breathtaking smile of yours that always makes him forget himself, “I’m only following the logic you already agreed to.  Grogu and I will be fine watching you showcase the might of our realm from the safety of our spectator seats tomorrow.”

“Grogu will be with me in the fighting area.”

“No.”

“Cyar’ika, he will be fine.”

“He’s just a baby, Din!”

“And a Mandalorian apprentice.  You’ve seen what a formidable fighter he’s already grown to be.”

And so on, and so forth – the two of you, the General and his Princess, spiritedly discussing and debating matters that affect your realm.  The thought crosses your mind, not for the first time, that when you ascend the throne after your father you will need a ruling partner who challenges you like this: one who makes you wiser and forces you to expand your horizons, but trusts your compassion and tender heart, and who you trust to keep you and your kingdom safe.  And as you always do when this thought naturally lends itself to an image of Din by your side, tall and proud as your King consort, you push it away as far as you can.  It hurts too much to imagine something that seems to materialize so clearly and happily, as if it could actually become a reality, when you know it could never be.

The crowd in the arena is deafening.  Already amped from the opening entertainment acts, they’re now cheering loud, calling for the main event.

Sitting front row in the Royal Box, you scan over the floor of the arena – knowing that it’s unlikely, but still hoping for a flash of silver beskar from behind one of the gates that line the sides of the arena floor, behind which lay the holding areas for the gladiator fighters selected for today’s match.  Once or twice, you think you spy the sunlight catch something shiny from beneath the stands, but before you can look more closely, someone from the Flavian royal family will engage your attention.  Though your mind never strays far from Din and his, your men, you cannot forget yourself or your role - your purpose for being in this arena today: you’re here to secure the continued prosperity your kingdom and strengthen your realm’s relationship with a long-standing ally. 

If you’re honest, despite the trepidation that sits heavily atop your heart, you cannot help but be affected by the electricity of your environment.  The stadium thrums and pulses with the excitement of thousands of Flavian citizens who have come out in the hot sun to partake in today’s festivities – you see children of all ages waving noisemakers and colourful flags, men and women young and old already cheering for who they anticipate to be today’s victors.  Based on the chatter in your tent, the news of your General fighting today has spread like wildfire through the city – very few Flavians have ever seen a Mandalorian, never mind have the privilege of seeing one fight; today was going to be a day they remember for the rest of their lives.  As for your companions in the Royal Box, you’re happy to see that your and Din’s assessment had been accurate – there is no underlying bloodlust or malevolent show of power associated with these fights, everything is only in good fun; your royal cohorts are all in splendid moods, showing genuine enthusiasm akin to the original spirit of the same games put on by their ancestors.

You’re just chatting amiably with the new Flavian king about having some of the wonderful Flavian wine and fruit you’ve enjoyed in the tent sent up to your room later, when a fanfare of trumpets echoes throughout the stadium announcing the start of today’s fight.  The crowd quiets to a soft buzzing as the amphitheatre’s speakers announce the entrance of your fighters; the volume rises again as the audience goes wild when the might of your realm runs in through the gladiator’s entrance.  You can’t help but beam, chest bursting with pride at the impression they make on the Flavian crowd – a big, broad Mandalorian General, towering in his stance and intimidating in his majestic armour, flanked by your guard: five of the strongest, most formidable soldiers from your father’s army. 

You spy Grogu before the Flavian royals do, but it’s only because you know where to look.  A perch for him has been attached to the side of his father’s jet pack so he can remain secure at Din’s shoulder during combat, but have the flexibility to jump off and join the fray if needed.  The instant the Flavian prince spots him, he excitedly points him out to the others – and you take great pleasure in informing your hosts that they, in fact, have the honour of seeing two Mandalorians today.

With only a few moments before their opponents arrive in the arena, you take a closer look at your fighting contingent – they have been outfitted with Flavian weapons (swords, blasters, electro shields), the standard issue armament of your kingdom they normally carry nowhere in sight; the only exception is of course Din, who carries the gladiatorial weapons like the others and all of his usual weaponry – you chuckle to yourself, imagining the poor Flavian weapons master who tried to strip a Mandalorian of his religion.

A loud voice announcing the incoming fighters for Flavin 5 jerks you back to the scene before you.  The crowd thunders as a squadron of battle droids nearly a hundred strong marches into the arena, each carrying varying sized blasters or blaster rifles in addition to their own swords, a few wielding double ended electro staffs.  You barely have time to fret over how outnumbered Din and your troops are before the king is rising in his seat and giving the ceremonial hand gesture for the fight to begin.

You hear your General shout quick, decisive commands and his trusty men move swiftly into the desired formation, electro shields lit up and expanded in one coordinated movement.  They advance as a team, strong and sure, every aim of their blasters true – each man practiced at covering the comrades at their sides as the droids begin shooting back.

When your men are close enough to the front line of the remaining droids, the intimidating battle cry you hear emanating from Din’s helmet is repeated in response at tenfold the volume by his men, a signal to shift fluidly into a tiered offensive formation that you recognize from watching their training on the palace grounds at home.

The legion moves with precision and speed, the crouched soldiers providing the impenetrable shielding needed by the men who stand tall as a precision sniper team that can’t be touched; your Mandalorian the tallest, unphased by the droid fire that bounces harmlessly off his beskar armour.

The formation is far more effective than the static positions of the droids and in almost no time at all, your fighters have driven the remaining thirty or so droids back towards the entrance gate.  Answering another roared order, your contingent springs apart with an unrivalled ferocity to attack the remaining droids via direct combat.

Din cuts down mechanical fighter after mechanical fighter, mowing through the defensive lines of the Flavian droids that have none of his agility and lighting quick reflexes, bolstered by his trusted troops at his back who move with the confidence of men who have been trained by the best, used to fighting with the best.

Grogu has left his father, jumping from his perch onto and over droids with lightening speed - they shoot at him with their blasters only to miss their fast-moving green target every time and take each other out instead.

You watch their every move with bated breath – every bolt that connects with your realm’s armour quickens your breath, the clashing sounds of weapon on weapon too loud in your ears, and each hit or wound sustained by one of your men jolts a phantom pain through your own body.

When the last droid soldier falls, your men, your man, stand victorious at the epicenter of the arena; bloodied, exhausted to the point that the heaving of their chest plates can be seen from the Royal Box… but all standing.

You can hardly believe it - your heart exploding with pride, tears nearly springing from your eyes in relief.  Looking to your hosts, you half expect them to congratulate you and acknowledge the victory of your fighters, but instead, you see them still engaged with the scene before them, eyes trained on the arena floor.

They smile with genuine excitement and anticipation, and your eyes snap back to Din and your soldiers at the sound of the brassy, melodic fanfare now being played throughout the stadium.  The crowd rises to its feet with an ear-splitting roar as the orchestral horns continue to crescendo, announcing the coming of something.

You glance at the Flavian prince, his face alight with boyish joy – he’s excited in an almost childish way and when he sees you looking at him, he beams and points to one of the gates that’s now opening, voice elated, “Cliff beasts!”

Cliff beasts?!? You stand from your seat and rush to the edge of the balcony, gripping the railing and leaning as far as you can so you can see what new challenger is about to enter the arena.  You gasp when you see it – a woolly beast larger than Din and his men combined, trotting out into the arena on four stubby but powerful legs.  A magnificent horn, the length of which must span at least half of the creature’s massive body protrudes from its snout, thick and battle ready. 

A mudhorn??  Of all the beasts to have entered the arena, what where the chances it would be the beast of Din’s clan signet?  For a moment, you’re alarmed that maybe there have been unseen machinations at play and you’ve been blind to it all – that you’ve somehow failed in your diplomatic duties, failing your kingdom, your men, Din. 

You study the Flavian prince who’s now proclaiming to his father, the king, “These cliff beasts are so large!”  The two of them are enthusiastically waving and gesturing to the other attendees in the Royal Box, their chatter is of wonderment and genuine amazement at the sight of this creature that they’ve never before beheld on their planet - you conclude, with relief, that it has to be a coincidence.  Wait, what did he mean – these? 

Peering down into the arena again you see a second, smaller mudhorn ambling behind the first.  A parent and its child!  Your heart tightens, imagining how scared the two creatures have to be and how fiercely the adult will fight in order to protect its young.  You catch Din’s visor pointed up at you from the arena floor and you know that he understands the distressed expression of your face perfectly.

Immediately, your General gathers his men and lays out his strategy – unknowable to the crowds of the arena, but you can read Din clear as day: he won’t cause harm to another living creature if he doesn’t have to.

Din and his soldiers slowly fan out, purposefully ignoring the young calf while surrounding the adult mudhorn.  As expected, the mudhorn charges in attack.  Trying to blink as little as possible for fear of missing anything, you watch wide-eyed as your men deftly leap and roll out of the path of the stampeding animal.  When the mudhorn stops and turns back towards the perceived threat to its young, the soldiers surround it again – rocking on the balls of their feet ready to evade its charge again.  They aren’t always as lucky or fast enough – you cry out in anguish whenever the Mudhorn makes contact, sending your guard flying, landing with a sickening thud on the arena floor from the force of the impact.  The crowd gasps in worry, cheering louder than ever when your men get up to rejoin their brethren in repeating the same maneuver over and over.

Din’s plan is working, the mudhorn is getting tired. 

Part of you is relieved, the other hopes that its fatigue doesn’t make the creature desperate; though your men are still standing, you don’t know if any of them can sustain more injury to their bodies – an increasing danger that only grows as Din and your soldiers begin tightening the proverbial noose.  You spy Din protracting his fibercord whip from his vambrace by hand only seconds before he does what you suddenly realize he’s going to do.  The mudhorn is pawing at the ground, exhausted and angry while your men surround it, now each only about an arm’s length away, when Din uses a jetpack blast to leap onto its back - throwing the whipcord around its horn and pulling back on his makeshift reins.  The other men scatter and the crowd screams as your General rides the wildly bucking animal around the arena.  At their General’s direction, your men are now divided between two tasks: half shoot at the galloping beast that unwillingly bears their fearless leader and his son, their blaster bolts a distraction but doing little to the mudhorn’s tough hide; the remaining men tasked with capturing and restraining the calf – the seemingly easier task. 

Heart nearly in your throat, you watch as Grogu climbs down the front of his father’s arm and onto the mudhorn, quickly crawling to the top of its head where the massive horn joins the creature’s skull.  With one of his little green hands holding onto the cord his father holds taut and the other placed directly on the mudhorn’s woolly head, you see Grogu close his eyes in concentration.  Gradually, the mudhorn’s steps slow and its movements around the arena become unsteady, then wobbly, before it finally teeters and crashes onto its side fast asleep.  Din jumps off just in time to avoid being crushed by the animal’s huge body - Grogu does a dramatic flip into the air at the same time and lands perfectly in his father’s waiting arms.  The crowd roars its approval. 

The Flavian royals next to you are on their feet, clapping and cheering with astonishment and admiration – congratulating you on the victory of your men and thanking you for the fantastic show you’ve provided them today.  Clasping your hands in appreciation, they heartedly assure you that the documents confirming your planet’s trade routes will be completed and delivered to you tomorrow. 

You express your appreciation before turning your attention back towards the arena, heart full - relieved and proud of the men still on the fighting floor.  You have to admit they make quite the sight waving to the cheering crowds while standing next to a sleeping mudhorn, two of your lieutenants holding a makeshift leash with a smaller mudhorn standing docile at its end.  To the admiring masses, the large beast was subdued by these men, the might of your realm, but you know the truth.  You blow a little kiss to Grogu who pretends to catch it in his little hand before waving back, happy but somewhat tired.

Even with his helmet on you can read Din’s expression as he looks up to the Royal Box.  Where is my kiss, mesh’la?

You smile back a playful smirk just for the unseen eyes behind the dark T-visor.  Later.

You pace in the large, ornamental suite that your hosts have graciously provided – it’s beautiful, a true testament to Flavian luxury and craftsmanship, but you have no attention to spare for its finery.  Not when you’re straining your ears to listen for footsteps coming down the hall, eyes continuing to dart towards your door as if for some reason you may have missed hearing them come.

“Princess…”

Your lady’s maids, Olivia and Serine, pace right along with you, following your tracks around the grand room.  They’re as exhausted as you are, but you know their hearts to be as determined as your own; you give them the most indulgent look you can muster and any plea to ask you to rest dies on their lips.  The three of you continue to take turns listening intently for the telltale sounds of a soldiers’ march.

Finally, you hear something.  Faint but purposeful footsteps walking in synchronicity – the herald of well-trained soldiers with an intended destination.  Perked, you look to your faithful companions with renewed vigor and sprint to your door, flinging it open without grace and hurrying into the dimly lit hallway.

They’re still far enough down the hall that you have some time, even with your hastened steps, to study how your men appear to be faring; you know that when you ask, they will insist they are fine so not to worry you.

Two of your country’s finest are limping slightly, one of your lieutenants and a captain.  Your other lieutenant is walking fine, but he has a nasty gash on his forearm, dripped, half dried blood wrapping around his wrist like a terrible bracelet.  The armour of your realm that the legion proudly wears has taken a beating, covered in evidence of today’s bout – marked, dirty and bloodied, but none of the men themselves appear to be grievously injured.

But it’s the man at the front of the pack that you study the most sincerely.  Din’s gait is not too unfamiliar for you to suspect he’s hiding any serious injury - he would know better than that.  After the battle on the Fields of Planoor he had learned not to conceal his injuries from you, that you were so familiar with his body and the way it moves, you would know something was wrong without a single word from him.  As Din stalks towards your group, you can feel the hot gaze from behind his visor assessing you just as you assess him; your General holds himself a bit straighter, his massive frame puffing in pride.  He bears no sign of serious injury, a little sigh of relief escapes your lips as you continue to run down the hall, Olivia and Serine hot on your heels.  But his back is probably killing him.

The men stop to a coordinated halt as you reach them; their weapons sheathed, they each raise their left fists to their chests and bow, “Princess.”

You wave your hands in a graceful but frantic manner, dismissing this need for formality, “Please.  Are you okay?  Is everyone alright?”

Reaching for Grogu, your heart settles a little when he climbs down from his secured perch on his father’s shoulder and leaps into your arms.  Fussing over him, you check his fuzzy green ears and sweet face for injuries; when you run your hands over his limbs and body to do the same, he coos and giggles as if being tickled.  Resting your palm against the security of the beskar rondel he wears beneath his tunic, you exhale in contented relief and place a long kiss to his head.  He’s okay.

Those same words are now being echoed out loud in the low modulated rasp of the voice you trust most in this galaxy, “He’s okay, Princess.  Not a scratch on him, the little womp rat.  The Lieutenant could do with some fresh dressings for his arm, but the rest of us are fine – a bit banged up and tired, but nothing a warm bath and a good night’s rest can’t fix.”

Knowing that Din’s helmet will give nothing away, you study the faces of your countrymen, trying to ascertain if their beloved General is downplaying the damage for your sake.  Finding no deception in their eyes, and knowing that they know you would know, you relent, “Have you eaten?”

“We were given sustenance after our victory.”

You raise your eyebrow at this, suspecting that Din’s words answer only for his men, but not necessarily himself.  Nodding, you give your final charge for the evening, “Olivia, Serine, please kindly see our brave soldiers to their rooms, run their baths and tend to them as needed.”

Your ladies-in-waiting curtsey in assent at your words and intuitively, Olivia extends her arms for Grogu – there are no secrets between you and your closest companions.  Din nods at her and she takes her favourite little green playmate into her arms, happy to help clean him and put him to bed tonight while his father is otherwise occupied.

Din turns to face his men – similarly, there are no secrets between the General and his most trusted squadron, men who love their princess with an unyielding loyalty that rivals only his own.  Your father’s soldiers salute their esteemed leader, bidding their Princess and General goodnight before following Olivia and Serine to their assigned quarters.

Silently, you take Din’s hand and lead him back down the hallway to your room, careful not to hurry should he be much battered and sore, though the urgency in your chest is nearly bubbling over.  Your concern appears to have been unfounded because as soon as the door to your room shuts, Din sweeps you into his arms with a force that takes your breath away - crushing you to his chest so tightly that you can feel him deflate beneath the hard beskar as he exhales his own long held sigh of relief.

You chuckle, “You would have thought that I was the one fighting cliff beasts in the arena today.”

“Cliff beasts?” Din tilts his head quizzically at you.

“I’ll tell you later.  Right now, let’s get you out of your armour,” your fingers slide under his pauldrons, feeling for the familiar release mechanism.

“Cyar’ika, if you wanted to have your way with me, you only had to ask - you didn’t need to send me into a fight arena with a mudhorn,” jokes Din, wincing slightly from the stretch of his muscles as they contract and relax with the weight of his armour being lifted from his aching body.

You cluck your tongue in playful disapproval, even as you continue to make quick work of removing the rest of Din’s armour.  With now practiced precision, you lift off his chest plates and the attachment frame, unhook his jetpack, unclip his cape, slide off his vambraces, unstrap his thigh plates, unlace his boots, unbuckle his belt, unzip his flight suit.  The ceremony of this process is one you will never tire of, nor is its significance lost on you. 

Din, a Mandalorian, willingly lets you touch his armour and remove it from his body – trusting your delicate hands with his most precious property: the physical embodiment of his honour and creed, the very symbol of his people.  Not only that, but he allows you to strip him of protection and reveal his vulnerability to you, exposing him and his softness – he exists as the man beneath the beskar for you and you only.  You’re the most privileged being in the galaxy – the weight of Din’s trust in you is something you will never take for granted.

When Din stands before you in only his boxers and helmet, you begin your study of his body in earnest.  Dancing your fingers across his hard and tanned chest, you trace old scars in order to separate them from new marks; palming his torso and checking his thick arms with the same careful hands.  Rounding your warrior, you continue your roaming examination over his muscular back and listen intently for any change in Din’s breathing when you press down on his tense shoulders – relieved when you hear him groan in satisfaction instead of pain.  As you’re lightly scraping your nails over his wide thighs you hear the telltale unclicking of Din’s helmet – he beckons you.

Rising to meet his lowering face, you use your thumbs to lift the brim of Din’s helmet slightly, always keeping your eyes closed so you don’t see any of his face – not for the world would you betray Din’s trust.  Mouth finding his easily, you kiss Din gingerly – unsure of what injuries he may have sustained beneath his helmet; lightly pecking his soft pout and pressing restrained affection to the corner of his mouth.

“I’m not going to break, cyare,” Din grins as if he’s reading your mind.

Snapping down his helmet with a bit more force than necessary, you peer up into the black horizonal stripe of his visor and sniffle, “I can see some big bruises starting to form over your abdomen and on the back of your thighs.  And the muscles of your arms and back are overstrained and need to loosen or you’re going to be more sore tomorrow than you already will be.”  The emotions you held in all day now start to spill over your lash line; dropping your head, you cry softly at the toll today’s events have taken on your strong man’s body and how he bears it without complaint.  Contrite and indebted that he sustained these injuries at the behest of your kingdom - your behest, for you. 

Din gathers you in his arms and pulls you flush to his chest, tilting back his helmet again he kisses you lovingly, devotedly – with every stroke of his tongue, every nibble of your lips, he reminds you that it is not only his duty, but his honour to serve your kingdom, to serve you.  He would do anything for you, without you ever having to bid it.  It is not in him to deny you anything, his heart’s desire is to give you everything.

“I love you, Princess.”

“I love you, General.”

Not without some difficulty, you pull yourself out of Din’s embrace and lead him to the suite’s fresher, running the taps of the large tub and scenting the water with fragrant, healing oils.

“I can do that, mesh’la,” one of Din’s large meaty hands covers yours as you test the temperature of the water.

Shaking your head shyly, you bring that hand up to your lips and kiss its calloused knuckles, “Please. Let me serve you, Din.”

“That is not befitting of a princess.”

“I am not like other princesses.”

Tilting your chin up with two of his thick fingers, you can feel the smile behind Din’s next words, “No, you are not.  There is no one like you in the galaxy.”

“And I’m yours.”

The helmet, never having been relocked, is lifted again and Din sweeps you into a passionate, hungry kiss, different than the reassuring and devoted kisses of earlier – deeper, greedier.

“Get in the tub, Din,” you murmur against his lips while you can, before you forget your task and give yourself over to him completely.

Chuckling, Din can only acquiesce whenever he hears a direct request from your mouth – he never hears you command him as his sovereign, only ever as his love.  No matter – he would obey either way.  Stripping off his boxers, helmet still on, Din slips into the steamy water of the deep soaker tub, letting out a heady groan at the way all his muscles relax in reaction to the sudden heat against his rough skin. 

With a soft footedness that still surprises Din, so used to picking up every little sound with his helmet’s acoustic sensors, you reappear suddenly with a small tray table bearing various Flavian fruits and wine for Din and a thin silk scarf for you.

“I know you didn’t eat after the match,” you say matter-of-factly when Din tilts his helmet in question.  Neither did you.

“Will you join me, cyar’ika?”

“Of course, my love,” you begin to disrobe, perfectly understanding the double meaning of your General’s question.

Though he’s seen and worshipped your naked form more times that you can count, there’s always something about being unable to see the eyes that devour you which makes you shy.  Able to detect the rise in temperature of your face, your bashfulness amuses Din to no end – if only you could see his own expression; every time Din sees you bare before him is like the first time, he thinks you might even laugh at the slack jawed, awestruck expression hidden by his helmet – if Mandalorians were to believe in a literal afterlife, then Din could well be deemed a heretic for he’s sure he’s already seen heaven.

Stepping in the tub, careful not to trip over Din’s strong legs, you settle on your knees in the water near his feet; taking the wash towel from the side of the tub, you lather it up with your own luxurious cleanser, the scent of which you know Din loves and begin to wash his body.  With great care and affection, you wash and massage Din’s feet, calves and thick thighs, the two of you quietly chatting about your individual perspectives on what transpired in the arena today as you move up his body with your loving touch.

Din groans when you wash his groin area, and you smirk and pretend to throw him a look of disapproval even as you stroke his fast-hardening cock with the washcloth.

“Cyare…” he strains.

“Hmmmm?” Humming, you shimmy to straddle his lap and innocently begin to wash his hard chest and tree trunk arms.

“You’re teasing…”

“Not at all, I’m cleaning,” you giggle.  Rising onto your knees, you lean over Din’s mountainous shoulder to clean his back, dangling your wet, supple breasts right at helmet visor level.  Definitely teasing. 

Two can play at this game. Din’s modulator muffles his snicker as he makes sure you’re entirely engrossed in your task of scrubbing his back, concentrating adorably so that you don’t notice when his big paws reach for your chest, groping and kneading the pillowy flesh with hardly any warning.

You squeal and grind down on Din’s cock - in retaliation he zeros in on your already pert nipples, rough fingers roll and pinch, flick and tug your pretty peaks until you forget your work and bury your face into his shoulder, completely lost to the pleasure that only the General can give you.

“Din,” your voice a soft whimper, needy yet still regal and melodic, “… you have to…”

“What do I have to do, Princess?”

His teasing tone makes you gush; this man knows exactly what he’s doing – you try to claw back some semblance of control over the situation, “You need to let me tend to any injuries you may have sustained under your helmet.  And let me wash your hair.”

“Oh, do I?” 

Nodding in earnest with your eyebrows raised, “Yes, and then you have to rest.  Your body needs it.”

“My body needs you, mesh’la.”

Leaning back, your eyes follow the trail of your fingers as they rake down the smooth skin of Din’s broad chest, slowing over the various long-healed scars whose tales of origin you know by heart, you prepare yourself to argue your way.  But the truth is, you don’t want your way – you need Din, too.  Here on Flavin 5, there is no fear of getting caught, no need for hurried kisses or fleeting touches – the two of you have time.  Time to enjoy one another.  Time to let your hearts run rampant with affection and want.

Tomorrow morning is the last morning you can wake lazily in Din’s arms, like any other couple waking to just another day in the rest of your lives together.  Tomorrow you will return home and your love for your steady warrior will once again need to be tucked away close to your heart, safe from the prying eyes of the kingdom. 

So, you don’t argue.

“Injuries first, General.”

“I have none, Princess.”  You can feel Din’s shit eating grin radiating from behind the beskar.

Grinding down a little on Din’s hardening length as a warning, “I should like to see for myself, thanks.”

“Of course, mesh’la.  I would see you satisfied.”  Though still smirking, it’s with enormous feeling that Din picks up the scarf from the side table and with his practiced hand, covers your eyes; wrapping the silk around your head twice before tying it securely.  He doesn’t ask you if you can see, knowing that if you could you would volunteer it.  Sitting prettily with your hands clasped together, you wait for the welcomed sound of Din’s helmet being lifted and set down where you scarf previously lay.

Heart full, your hands reach out to gently touch Din’s face, fingers tracing over the most intimate part of the man you love.  His jaw relaxes as you stroke though his facial hair and his plush lips curl as your thumb brushes over them.  Din’s strong nose feels unbroken, thank goodness – your gentle kiss to the tip earns you a breathy chuckle that tickles your throat.  Mapping the strong lines of his forehead, you discover your first wound at Din’s hairline – the soft curls of his brown (or so you’re told) hair already matted and sticking with dried blood.  When your fingers caress Din’s temple, you find a small superficial cut by his left eye, and your heart tightens further upon feeling a nastier slice on the apple of his cheek.  Even without seeing and Din giving away no hint of tenderness at your touch, you’re sure there are bruises starting to form on the face you love.

Though you’ve never seen it, you know Din’s face – positive that you could pick it out of a crowd as surely as you could your own in a mirror.  It’s the face of the strongest warrior you’ve ever known, one whose honour and integrity is as unbreakable as the beskar armour that covers his body.  A protector who fights without fail to defend the weak, uphold justice, and push back against tyranny and corruption – no matter how hard something may be or the risk to his own self, the man who bears this face will never back down, always standing up for what’s right.  It’s the face of a man who loves fiercely – loves his Creed, his people, his duty, his son, his woman.  You.  You know the face of this man, the man who owns your heart, your body, your soul - wholly and completely.

You wash this face, carefully cleaning your discoveries.  Then, before you wash his hair, you cradle Din’s head delicately and check for bumps and scrapes, sighing in relief when you find none.  Lathering up a generous amount of your shampoo, you distribute it through Din’s curls, massaging his scalp as he groans in approval.  Your smile at the sound could melt even the steeliest warrior’s heart, Din is sure – it melts his.

When his hair is rinsed and face pat dry, salve applied to his wounds, you attempt to get Din to eat from the food on the tray.

“After, Princess,” Din’s voice somehow lower than when it’s filtered through his modulator.

“After what?” you pretend to be confused.

“After I have what I’m truly hungry for,” you can feel the sides of his face lift beneath your hands as the curve of his mouth pulls up into a wicked grin.

You flash him what you think is a mirroring smirk, “And what is that, General?”

Din takes an excruciating long time trailing his fingers featherlike down the column of your throat as an answer.  His massive hand skate over your naked breasts, pinky pretending to be caught on your pert nipple before catching up with its brethren that have moved on to tickling your soft tummy.  When his hand finally dips below the water, it’s no more hurried, no less teasing – knuckling down the front of you, his hand so big and wide, his thumb and baby finger stretch to slowly stroke along the apex of your thighs at the same time with no additional effort at all.  You quiver at your warrior’s languid and gentle touch – that these same hands are trained for weapons and brutality is not lost on you; how lucky are you to be able to feel them as they are now, so close to where you need them, reverent and worshipful.  Hands meant for building up and protecting, instead of tearing down and destroying - and yet you know them capable of both - and moreover, that they can and will do both to you. 

Leaning forward to press your lips tenderly to Din’s, you whisper, “Promise you’ll eat after?”

He knows the condition of the ask is empty - you need him as much as he does you, both of you hungry for more than the food your empty stomachs growl for.  The worry you felt for your Mandalorian every second he was in the arena today has morphed into a blazing desire now that you have him secure once again in your loving arms; even when he was facing blaster fire or the murderous glare of a mudhorn today, Din’s thoughts never strayed far from the moment he could return to your warm embrace.

But he plays along, because he knows you need to hear it, “I promise, cyare.” And then, because your well being is always as much on the forefront of his mind as his is yours, Din adds, “As long as you eat with me.”

“Promise.  Now touch me please, Din,” you’re trembling, not just from want but need, a need for the reassurance that he’s here safe, that the violence you saw in the arena did not touch him.

Even if he had not pledged his fealty to your kingdom, Din would submit to your request, to you – if it were up to him, he would spend the remainder of his days catering to your every whim, carrying out your will, doing anything and everything necessary to ensure your happiness.

He parts your folds with his fingers, finding you slick and ready for him.  As Din glides his thick digits along your seam, your soft moans fill the steamy room, “Ohhh Din, yes right there, please.”

“Such a polite little princess, isn’t she?” hums Din, loving how responsive you always are for him.  He kisses down your neck, nipping at your shoulder as you come to a rest against his chest.  You’re shuddering from the way he’s stroking your pussy, swirling infuriatingly at your needy hole but never dipping inside, teasing you with long broad swipes up to your clit.

Pressing his thumb against your already slippery nub, Din takes advantage of your lack of sight and surprises you by dipping his head down to take one of your breasts in his mouth at the same time – you cry out from this sudden double attack, body trying to run.

The old bounty hunter in him activated, Din chuckles and increases the pressure of his hand on your pulsing clit, and with his free hand, he holds you firm by the nape of your neck - face now buried deep in your cleavage, biting and sucking every bit of soft flesh his mouth can find.  Rolling your pert nipple between his teeth, he seals his lips over the sensitive peak and murmurs, “I got you, mesh’la.  Let me make you feel good.”

At his sure words, you immediately relax and willingly giving yourself over to your warrior, sighing in surrender as he worships you with his fingers and his mouth.  This is the only time that you allow yourself to be covetous of what is not rightfully yours – Din’s face you may know without having ever seen, but the lascivious sight of what he looks like when he loses himself in your pleasure remains a mystery.  You secretly long to see it – wishing to know how dark his eyes burn, how his lips wet and plump, how his brow might furrow or relax in reaction to your whines and whimpers. 

If you were his riduur – no.  No, you can’t let yourself go down that path of longing, it only ends in heartbreak. 

As if he can sense that your mind has started to wander, Din slips two of his thick fingers deep in your heat and curls them, beckoning you back to him.  You fly right back into the moment and to the space of devotion that he holds just for you, gasping for air at the stretch of his welcomed intrusion.

“Need to get you ready for my cock, cyare,” purrs your Mandalorian, bringing you back fully and binding your heart to his in the here and now.

Nodding almost mindlessly, you crash your mouth to Din’s.  The kiss is desperate, needy for so many reasons – your tongues licking and chasing, dancing to the song of perfect pleasure that strums along the electric current that connects you.  Din feverishly conducts the symphony of your body – grand upward motions of his fingers in your cunt send waves of bliss that crescendo through your core; the sweeping of his lips against yours keeps you in tempo with his own urgency; his rolling downward gestures on your clit coils the band below your belly tighter and tighter.

No one can play you like Din can – beneath the beskar armour he’s a master musician, lover.  Like the weapons he so deftly wields and handles, your body is an instrument he knows intimately – every shift, slight change or tensing is noted and adjusted for so he can optimize performance, maximize your pleasure.  Din knows you’re going to come before you do by the key in which your breath hitches, the cadence of your fluttering walls.

“Come for me, Princess,” he growls, biting down on your plush bottom lip.  Now it’s your turn to obey – you come with an arch of your back and a chorus sung to your General’s name, Din, Din, Din, Din.

Here you can be as loud for as long as you want and Din can fuck you through your high for as long as you need, withdrawing his fingers and licking them clean only when your cunt is complacent enough to release him, “Always taste so sweet, cyar’ika.”  You sigh at the filthy sounds of another forbidden sight you long, lust for.

Lips finding his again, you taste yourself on Din’s tongue and tease, “I thought we were eating after.”

This time it’s Din’s turn to act coy, repeating your question from earlier with a knowing smirk against your pout, “After what?”

In response, you reach between your bodies and even without the benefit of sight, easily find Din’s hard, throbbing cock.  Stroking his length with your delicate hands, you lift to line him up with your entrance and wordlessly sink down, “After you come, General.”

“As you wish, Princess,” Din groans at the way your pussy hugs him.  When you feel him shift beneath you to plant his feet on the bottom of the tub, you stop Din with a hand on his wide chest and shake your head, “You’re tired and your body needs rest, my love.  Let me do the work.”

Big, loving hands come up to cradle your head and a playful but reverent tone accompanies Din’s protest, “A General’s duty is to serve his Princess.”  You tilt into his paw and nuzzle; your Mandalorian’s affectionate touch and the feeling of fullness combine in making you compliant.  Leaning in close you ghost over Din’s lips, “Together then.”

Half awestruck, half groaning in agreement, Din slides his hands back down your soft body to come to a rest on your waist, holding you gentle and secure, “Together.”

It’s easy to find the perfect rhythm, your bodies already so in tune with one another.  Din’s slow upward thrusts meet your lighter bounces halfway, causing the water of your bath to ripple and splash against the sides of the tub.  It’s tender and patient until it isn’t – with no communication other than your soft whinnying and Din’s grunts and heavy breathing, your tempo and intensity remain matched, building together. 

Always together.  How you love being together with your Mandalorian.  How you love him.

You press yourself to Din, the rise and fall of his chest grounding you as your hips work in tandem with his.  Arms snaking around his neck, you cling to the General as your joint movements become more fervent and passionate, the water now choppy from your lovemaking.

Together.  Everything is better when you’re together.  You were able to get through today, together.

Love, relief and gratitude flood your pleasure wracked body as you crawl up Din’s broad mountain frame to find his lips.  Latching your mouth to your Mandalorian’s, you kiss him heady and desperate.  Every press of your plush and swollen pout thankful for his survival, of today’s fight and of all the fights that came before today so that he could come into your life.  A thank you to maybe that same mystical force that gives Grogu his unexplainable powers, for making the man that fills you so full at the moment the warrior, the father, the man is.  Thankful that he loves you.  For all of him.

Din meets every brush of your lips with the same devotion, somehow able to read the emotion behind your eyes without seeing them - the same way you’re able to read him even when he’s hidden behind his helmet.  He himself grateful for bringing his son and your countrymen back to you safe, for being the one to give you what you needed for the success of your mission.  A thank you to that same power than runs in his son’s veins and makes him a warrior far stronger than Din could ever be, for bringing him to you.  Grateful that a woman as regal, compassionate, and kind as you saw past his hard armoured exterior to the man beneath and holds him in your esteem.  And in your heart.

“Ni kar'tayl darasuum gar,” Din growls with a deep rumble of his chest that echoes off the walls.  I love you.

“Ni kar'tayl darasuum gar,” you cry back in the perfect pronunciation that Din taught you.  I love you.

Neither of you able to hold back your love for one another nor the crest of your bodies any longer – coming together, lyrical song sung loud and shameless.  The Princess and the General have nothing to hide here, tonight.

Later, after you’ve each eaten and drank your fill of Falvian fruits and wine, and you’ve massaged and kneaded Din’s sore muscles until you’re satisfied with the way his aches have melted away, Din guides you, still blindfolded, out of the cooled bath to the bed.

With Din protectively hovering over your naked body ready to take you again, you realize that as thankful as you’ve been feeling, you haven’t actually acknowledged those sentiments out loud to the man to whom you owe everything, “Thank you, Din.  Thank you for being the might of the realm.”

Though he knows you cannot see them, Din’s eyes fill with a love he hopes he can properly convey in other ways, “No need to thank me, cyar’ika, it will always be my honour to fight for you.  You must know - you are the might of the realm.  The realm prospers and remains strong because its Princess is brave, smart, good.  You’re everything, mesh’la.  You’re my might – I can only do the things I can because I do them for you.  I would do anything for you.”

You feel the scarf you wear across your eyes dampen as it absorbs your tears, “I know, Din.”  Happy, content, you welcome your General between your legs once more; and with the rare luxury of time and freedom that the two of you have been gifted tonight, you know it won’t be the last time.

[songmingisthighs]

Maudit

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

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ch. xxvi - MONSIEUR BLEP

cursed!jongho × reader

genre : mythology!au, smau

rating : mature; crude jokes and filthy language

tw : jokes about killing, mentions of past trauma, mentions of depression, allusion of previous attempt, Jongho being vulnerable

wc : 1.6 k

buy me coffee ?

so long i've been here, so long are the stories i've written. of what i gathered and lost, loneliness becomes me and pain refuse to depart from me. i've embraced that which ate me away so when you came along, i had no part of me left to give.

You were feeling rather great about coming to Gangneung not just because it was one of the places that you wanted to go to but also because the bnb was cozy yet gorgeous. That was until Jongho came knocking on your door just as you had finished cleaning up while he went to talk to the bnb manager.

Initially, he asked if you were settling in just fine but even after you assured him that you were doing just fine, he lured you out with "I want to show you something amazing."

Now, you were growing concerned.

"I swear Jongho, if you lured me out to the woods to kill me, I'll make a deal with Seonghwa after Hongjoong take me to him and make sure your cursed ass is doubly cursed," you huffed, pushing tree branches away from your face. It wasn't the fact that you hated nature but it was the fact that you hated nature in the dark and in your PJs.

Jongho rolled his eyes and shook his head at your dramatics yet he continued leading you further in. "If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't have done it near my bnb. To insinuate that I would create such a disingenuous plan is a mockery of my former career as a police officer," he muttered but soon his eyes lit up, "Okay, we're here."

You were about to ask where he meant when he stepped aside and showed you a little round spot where the starry sky was clear and the trees circled around, making it look like the perfect nook. As soon as you saw the stars up above, your eyes mimicked their twinkle and it made Jongho crack a happy grin, knowing that his plan to impress you worked. "Welcome to my special secret spot," he proudly announced.

Carefully, as you were still preoccupied with the sky, Jongho led you to a log to sit down as he kneeled next to your leg, in front of a little pile he had made. The sound of rocks knocking made you look down and it was then that you saw Jongho making a campfire using rocks, twigs, and dry leaves, all a bit too easily to the point that your mind trailed to the fact that had you and your friends, creatures who had tasted the blissful convenience of modern technology, were to be dropped like the Seattle Grace Mercy West team in the middle of the woods to survive for two days, not even a week, you all would simply give up and let mother nature maul you clean. It was almost therapeutic seeing Jongho knock some sparks from the rocks and start kindling the fire. The crackle of the flame and the smell of burning wood created an ambience that Bath and Body Works would love to release as a three-wick candle. You didn't know if it was odd, but for a moment you could imagine Jongho in his youth, in his own time, living humbly as he was growing up, probably with his brother and his loving parents.

Once the fire was stable, Jongho moved to sit next to you and pulled out a blanket. Like the chivalrous man that he had turned to be, Jongho draped the cloth around you and smiled gently. "So that I won't listen to you whine about catching the cold," he stated teasingly which made you roll your eyes and smack him on his shoulder. "I'll let that go since you have graciously shared this spot with me. I get why this place is special to you. It's so beautiful," you craned your neck to admire the stars again, this time the fire giving the trees that were still in your line of sight a beautiful orange glow.

"This place is beautiful," Jongho exhaled, joining you in admiring the sky with a smile on his face, "But that's not why I called this place special."

Jongho's words intrigued you because you found yourself no longer staring at the sky but at his face which looked like it was admiring the stars. But, having spent some time with him, you immediately noticed that there was sadness in his sombre expression.

"It's not?" you asked, curious. Jongho shook his head before looking down to his lap where his hands rested, fingers intertwining with each other anxiously as if seeking comfort. "I... This..." He let out a sigh sharply, bracing himself to divulge another part of him to you. "This was the first place I came to after I had gotten cursed."

Almost immediately, a thousand questions popped into your head. You wanted to know the hows and the whys but you held yourself back, recognizing that it wasn't time for you to pry but you also didn't want to seem disinterested. So you scooted slightly closer to Jongho, allowing him to feel your presence more.

It took two minutes of silence before Jongho started speaking again.

"It was... About a month after the exact day I got cursed. Have I ever told you about how I got cursed?" You shook your head at his question, "Well, it's a long story but the point is, I foiled a plan where some people wanted to use sorcery to attack or kill or harm the King who had a great relation with my family from our trades. I thought it was my duty as a policeman but the King ended up killing off the whole family because according to him, he couldn't let the possibility of another plot happen. While the King was happy, some people thought what I did was horrible especially since the rest of the traitor's family had nothing to do with the plot. I was at an all-time low. I didn't know it then, but I was depressed. Severely depressed to the point that I... Well... I tried to..." Jongho paused, he couldn't bring himself to say the actual word because it was such a dark time for him. He was probably at his lowest and he was ashamed to admit that he almost took the coward's way out. Even just thinking about it almost pulled him back to the bad headspace where all the judgmental stares, the harsh words, and the sneers reside.

Luckily, you were there to pull him back to reality by scooting even closer to the point that your thighs were touching so you could share the blanket with him.

"I assume you left the town after that?" you asked, successfully getting his attention as he nodded rapidly and cleared his throat. "Well, when I found out that I couldn't die, it freaked me out so much that I ran away one night and never looked back. I must've run for a whole day because the next thing I know, I was lying on the ground right there," your eyes followed his finger that was pointing towards a spot three trees away from where you came from, "I was exhausted and I wanted to just give up but I couldn't, not with what I was cursed with. It was raining that day and I was hoping the water would just turn the ground wet and I would just be swallowed whole or something. Next thing I knew, Hongjoong hyung appeared in front of me, said he smelled decay but he couldn't see my soul, it wasn't in me." Hearing that, your eyebrows furrowed and your nose scrunched, before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, "And what the hell was that supposed to mean?"

Your candid reaction caused Jongho to burst out in a fit of laughter, glad that someone shared his initial sentiment when he heard it straight from the reaper.

"That's what I said!" he exclaimed, "You have the privilege of learning mythologies, spiritual theories, and lores and yet you still react like that. Imagine me! I had just faced a sorcerer and his... Craft or something, and almost right after that, I had to deal with a supposed grim reaper. So when he eventually told me to come with him, I thought I had nothing else to lose anyway so I did. Guess who was the first person he brought me to," Without hesitation, you answered with a knowing smirk, "Seonghwa," to which he gleefully nodded, "See? He's so predictable," he chuckled. "Then one by one I met the other guys and I guess the rest is history," he sighed but this time, rather than sadness or dejection, it seemed more reminiscent.

"Sometimes I forget that you guys are technically part of history and I'm so jealous of that."

Jongho turned to you and nudged your shoulder with his, "Being part of history isn't as glamorous as you think it would be. It takes a lot of patience and a certain skill." Curious, you furrowed your eyebrows, "What kind of skill?" cheekily, Jongho stared at you with a deadpanned look and pointed out, "The skill to not die because you know what went on in the past. You could've died from nothing or everything. It was absolutely HORRIBLE."

The way you busted out laughing while clapping your hands triggered Jongho's reaction to do the same. It was odd how infectious your laugh became after Jongho stopped being an asshole and the only odd thing about it was how natural it was. Just like how your conversation naturally flowed without it being so forced. Your curiosity over his experience of the past seems to break through his introversion. Jongho was not fond of being pried open like a can of peaches but for some reason, your questions didn't feel like it was prying at all.

That night, the same stars that saw Jongho fall down and break apart became the witness to Jongho putting himself back together with the help of his friends and you, against all odds.

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[thecoffeelovingfreak]

𝒔𝒐𝒘 𝒂 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒚

sequel to eyes of the ranger

pairing: boothill x gn!ex-undertaker!reader

genres: western!au, angst, domestic fluff, bits of hurt/comfort

word count: 8.6k

warnings: spoilers for boothill's backstory, death, heavy angst, explorations of grief, gun violence, blood, implied suicidal thoughts, unhealthy coping mechanisms

notes: I've only seen the bare minimum of his story leaks, and they've been spinning around my head ever since. Some details of the timeline might be tweaked, or imagined/added, but that's just for the au. Still, please enjoy this sequel, and what more I've added to this world! Here's some flowers again :) 💐

Read it on ao3!

~~~

Candles cast their glow brightly across wood panels as you hummed a lilting melody. Hands played with your hair, tugging on the strands to draw your attention away from the swirling pot of stew.

“Papa?"

"He'll be back soon, sweetie."

Your daughter shifted on your arm as you placed the spoon back in its resting spot. Her head fell against your shoulder, no doubt growing bored as crackles of fire echoed across the cabin.

You resumed the tune, bouncing slightly from side to side. She perked up once more as you took her hand over your first two fingers, thumb covering its small size. Her eyes began to crinkle as her first few teeth were revealed by a smile. She always loved dancing and music, likely because of her "silly papa".

When he left for town in the afternoon, he tripped over the porch's last step – on purpose, you suspected. She quickly laughed from where she sat with you in the rocking chair, calling him the nickname as he straightened up again. In just a couple strides he was back in front of you, fingertip meeting her nose before she swatted at him. He chuckled, leaving another kiss on both of your foreheads and embarking again.

As you gently spun, her gaze drifted to the window. She lit up, brighter than any heavenly body, and pointed to the door.

"Papa! Papa!"

The sound of approaching hooves met your ears softly, leading you to peer through the glass panes. Unfortunately, your vision was greeted by the furthest people from Boothill.

The National Hunter's Agency had grown to infamy everywhere you went. They had been given many pardons, and bought off plenty of sheriffs and their higher-ups to be able to operate as they pleased in numerous states. It seems now, after two years, they had caught wind of your bounty and wanted to cash in.

You carefully set her down on the floor, hands staying at her sides in case she lost balance. With some support, you walked her to your shared bedroom, guiding her to hide in your shaker wardrobe.

An anxious hand rotated the knob on the front door, leaving you face to face with a row of five men. Two in suits at the center, and three dressed more rugged at their side.

"Good evening." one greeted, smoke flowing from his mouth. "I assume you know why we're here."

The reverberations of your boots ceased before the steps as you stared at the lineup. "Naturally."

He hummed, throwing the remains of his cigarette to the dirt.

The agent at his right spoke up, "Why don't you walk down here, then."

“Isn’t it your job to capture me?”

“Continue resisting and you don’t have to be the only one we take.”

Your resolution faltered, and the hunters closed in. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Are you sure?”

Glass shattered behind you, followed by heavy thumping. Tendrils of dread inched in, their freeze creeping over your bones.

“Step down.”

Despite every instinct screaming for you to move, to follow their commands, denial and fear kept you in place.

“You’ve got about one minute before we force you to.”

A glaze fell over your surroundings, the situation tumbling to the wayside as your thoughts and blood rushed in unison. It was five against one, and each of them were armed – you were not. They had more information than they were letting on. Someone was searching the cabin for your daughter, likely their sixth. She would be weaponized if she was caught, stuck in the crossfire of your bounty.

Was there a way out of this? To prevent what seemed increasingly inevitable?

Well, yes. You could give yourself up.

But there was no guarantee of her safety afterward, or that you would remain alive.

Still, you and Boothill had made a promise when you first took her in, just one year ago. If danger ever presented itself, you would lay down your lives to protect her.

One of the hunters drew his pistol as your boot hit the first step.

Another dismounted, his dirtied white shirt twisting, then straightening once more as he approached you. A rough grip captured your arms, dragging them behind your back. Something hard hit the ground at your right, a rope thrown by one of his partners. It was wrapped and tied around your wrists, the friction beginning to cast a light burning sensation over the skin.

A foot met the back of your knees as he tightened the restraints, dust rising at the impact. One of the agents joined you, the scent of smoke lingering on his fingers as he brought your head up to meet his eyes. They returned to his side a moment later as his gaze turned to the cabin.

A hunter had your little girl in his grasp, her steps short, frightened, and struggling as she was led down the stairs. She looked at you, searching for answers or what to do.

The saddled agent’s voice sounded from behind, “The NHA seeks to rid these ranges of their impurities. When you wish to uproot an evil such as yourself, no trace must remain.”

He gestured toward the four hunters, and his fellow agent disappeared from your view.

Then the brutality they were known for reared its unforgettable head.

The low flat heel of a dress shoe met your back, staying there as you writhed on the ground, watching up at your daughter.

A metallic barrel crept to the rear of her head.

The tendrils of dread became horrible claws, sinking into every organ and twisting.

Warm ruby droplets cascaded over pale brown and flesh, as the shot’s echo dulled your senses and her body crumbled to the ground.

The claws dug open a void as a defeated cry exit your lips. You were released from under the agent’s foot, flipped over to stare at the cloud-stricken dusk. Voices yelled around you, the words fading into one persistent cacophony. A hand pressed itself down onto your shoulder, before a pain blossomed in the other. A rugged face peered down at you, contempt rising in their features. A new flower of sharp ache grew in your left thigh, tears finally stinging at your eyes.

A fresh splattering of blood flowed over your face, shocking you out of despair. Their body went limp over yours, and you quickly brushed them to the side. Now free from the hunter’s reach, you sunk your hands into the dirt beside you, slowly turning yourself back to your stomach. The hilt of a knife hit the ground as you did so, veins coming alight with panic from its twist in your wound.

Despite every injury, you only had one focus – to see your daughter one last time.

Sharp gravel digged uncomfortably underneath your legs as your restrained hands inched forward. Blood thrummed in your ears, yet the unmistakable sound of gunshots broke through. Within a matter of seconds someone rushed to your crawling form. They called for you, voice breaking at the scene as a hand brushed through your hair.

“Darlin’?”

Your head rose at every emotion kept within that one word, asked by a husky voice you could find in any darkness. Anguish cast itself over his face when he finally saw what you were headed toward. He sank to his knees next to you, a wrecked sob reaching into the evening only to be greeted by no comfort.

Reluctantly, you gazed at your daughter’s corpse, journeying silently past Boothill to finally touch her.

A sticky scarlet liquid mocked you, revealing your sorrow-stricken features coated in its kind within the pool. Your fingers rose to her, a warmth lingering below as she was turned. You summoned any last inkling of strength you had, smiling down to her and speaking softly.

“You were my pride and joy, sweetheart. I’ve had no greater honor than being your parent.”

You leaned down, a soft kiss landing on her forehead before you cried a chant of apologies. When any words you could conjure finally entered oblivion, your eyes looked back to Boothill. He hadn’t moved an inch, rendered paralyzed by the gravity of what he arrived home to. It seemed as though he had been ripped apart, every wire inside of him fraying.

This was your fault, and you were sure he knew that too.

Regret became a well in your heart, rising from the depths and overflowing onto its dying grass. Your head ached, thoughts swirling until each one sinked in grief’s whirlpool. In resignation, you lie beside her, holding her chilled hands between your fingers. If you closed your eyes, you could still see her smile as you danced making dinner.

It would feel best if you never opened them again, but you couldn’t leave Boothill to carry this weight alone. He didn’t deserve such a fate.

A hand swiped over your stained cheek, drawing you back to miserable reality. Tears descended from silver, embers kindling beneath their despair. You lifted your hands from hers, closing her lifeless eyes. Boothill’s hat rested at his chest, head downturned from where he knelt.

Together, you mourned.

—

PART I - Fatherhood And Other Dreams

"Papa! The moo-moos!"

"I see them!" Boothill chuckled, watching a finger point at their pasture.

Rena wriggled against his side, wanting to move closer to them. He complied, jogging to the wooden fence as she smiled.

Her small hands reached past the log fence, petting along one of the cow's heads as it grazed. She had such an affinity for the animals here, something you always joked she got from him.

Every morning like clockwork, she would point them out, longing to go and sit with them for a while. He would join her, occasionally teaching her things about their diets or hair as she would get close and stare into their big brown eyes.

Today she angled back against his leg and smiled at her altered reflection in them, before you tousled her growing hair. He hadn’t heard you approach, too absorbed in the scene to hear your boots kick up dust. His hand rose to rub against the back of your neck as you leaned into him, sipping on your mug of black coffee.

He had noticed your odd positioning on the pillow, no doubt leaving you with some pains when you woke. Quiet snores filled the room; something he would laugh with Rena about, her high-pitched giggles overtaking the silence of the night as her hands pat against your cheeks. Your light snoring would cease, and your face would scrunch up at the unexpected disturbance before you recognized the poking of your daughter. He watched as you tickled the side of her neck, placing a hand on her back when she fell on your chest and wiggled around in joy.

He’s never felt more love than in those little moments, witnessing his entire world as two shining stars amidst the murky midnight.

“In!”

“Brush first?”

“Yeah!”

He was brought back to you after a quick shake of his head, two gazes of the same color waiting for him. One enthusiastic, the other fond and patient as he bent down to pick up Rena. She played with his low braided hair, pulling a few small strands free. You ventured to the stables, likely fetching a brush that she had dropped on one of the chairs yesterday.

The grass was fresh with dew, shining under the morning rays. He opened the gate with ease, feeling a breeze run over his cheeks as he shut it behind him. The pasture was wide, yet filled with only ten cows. Each one would be brushed daily by Rena, starting with one patterned in brown and white. It was an activity she had adored since the first time you had brought her out to help just a couple months ago. Seeing how much she enjoyed it, he joined the two of you only a week later.

You came to his side, handing the brush over to her as you sipped on your coffee. He gestured at you with his chin as bristles met little hairs. With a smile, you turned the mug in his direction, a warm and bitter liquid flowing over his tongue.

A gentle laugh left your lips when the cow’s head moved, rising up into the brush and slightly twisting into it. Rena turned to you, beaming as she moved the brush to another spot. The cow reacted in turn, and you laughed again.

~

The wood ceiling of the barn came into view as Boothill’s head was tugged backward. A light chuckle echoed through the space, falling in time with the noon bird's chirp. His hat tumbled to the hay and dust riddled floor, yet it didn’t remain for long. Little hands left the ends of his hair, snatching the hat instead. He watched, bale in hand, as you scooped up Rena. In a swift motion, you placed his hat on her head, one arm wrapped around your neck and the other reaching for the large brim.

The bale crashed onto the floor, beginning a new stack by one of the stables. The sound brought Rena's attention to him, her head tilting backward to spot him from underneath the hat.

“Like papa!”

“You wanna be like him?"

"Yeah!"

"Then we're gonna have a lot to teach you."

He grinned, the brightness of the sun’s rays and his daughter’s admiration seeping into his smile. With her now distracted by one of the horses, he wrapped an arm around your waist, leaving a kiss on your lips before continuing his work.

~

The orange and golden rays of sunset beckoned your gaze to the large window overlooking the front porch. Rena slept peacefully on your chest, a combination of a full stomach and boredom likely the cause. You brought the book in your right hand to the other supporting her, flipping the page carefully.

The slow thumping of boots echoed through the door, prompting Rena to stir. She had always been a light sleeper, though she didn't always fully awaken. It seemed that this evening she would, leaning backward into your hand as the door opened. Boothill's figure emerged, lit by the bright horizon. She shuffled as her eyes opened to meet his, slowly laying further backward against your hand. Letting the leather-bound book fall from your lap, you wrapped both hands around her. She whined, leading one of your brows to raise.

Boothill inched closer, stopping at the edge of the rug in your little living area. You set Rena down, your hands staying at her sides. She watched the floor intently, gaze shifting between it and her papa. Quickly you picked up on her intentions, standing behind her and holding her hands just above her head.

Her foot moved forward slightly, and excitement blossomed on both your and Boothill's faces. He knelt down, holding his arms out for her. Feeling encouraged, she moved faster, taking her first few steps with your support. When she finally reached her papa, he lifted her up, cheering at her along with you. She beamed, her feet kicking back and forth in the air as she giggled.

~

The stars twinkled in the growing twilight, contrasting with the auburn and violet hues on the horizon. Cool grass stood between your fingers, the tranquility of the coming night bleeding into your spirit. The hill provided a lovely view of the valley below as crickets began to chirp. A thin herd of deer moved like whispers just a few feet before you.

One startled in your direction, the sound of Rena picking at strings increasing its paranoia. She was transfixed by the instrument, plucking as she sat in Boothill’s lap. His affectionate gaze watched down at her, adjusting the blanket over her legs.

There were many nights over the past few days you would wake to find Boothill absent from your bed. Rena would stir at your side, face scrunching further into the pillow as she murmured. After returning her stuffed bear from the other side of the bed, you would walk to find him at the kitchen table. The fire lit various scenes; some filled with brushes and varnish, others with whittling tools and etched knobs. Sometimes he would be passed out against the table, shavings coating his cheek. He wanted to complete the gift as soon as possible, his wish of sharing and passing on melodies and lyrics from his life fueling his craft.

Feeling fingers brush through his hair, Boothill would awaken to your soft gaze. Wordlessly you wiped his cheek, taking his hand in yours and bringing him to bed.

Gentle singing met your ears, skilled strumming of a guitar accompanying it. One large hand shifted up and down the strings, holding, shaking, and lifting to change the tune. The other encased one of Rena’s guiding her through the song.

The sun completed its descent underneath the horizon, and the herd of deer found their way back into the forest. Hints of light hung in the sky, now joined by colors of dandelions and the deep sea. The high-pitched babbling of your daughter chimed in during certain sections, forming a heart-warming duet. With your head on Boothill’s shoulder, you hummed along.

—

The town of Iris Creek was blissful, wilted blossoms gathering on the path's edges from the growing heat. The watery flow of its namesake echoed through the grand trees, calming your mind as you approached with Boothill at your side. After your most recent hunt, a week of rest was well-deserved.

Leaning down, you let the velvety liquid rush between your fingers. Its chill permeated your flesh, a content smile on your face as Boothill toyed with your hair.

“I enjoy seeing you this way.” he whispered, staring at you lovingly.

You turned, removing your hand from the water and laying back on the grass.

“At ease?” you questioned.

He nodded, resting down beside you, hat on his chest. You brushed aside his lengthening bangs, turning the strands together before running a thumb over his cheek.

He leaned into your touch as you asked, “Do you watch me sleep then?”

Embarrassed, his face angled toward the ground.

“Gettin’ shy on me, cowboy?”

He gave no response, simply meeting your eyes with a tender silver. Your lips met his cheek, feeling the bashful warmth gracing his features.

“I like it.” you spoke softly in his ear, leaving a little bite along the lobe.

One hand came up to your waist, holding tightly as your focus shifted to his neck. The other fell into your hair, gripping after a bold lick to the revealed skin.

“Can’t help but be at your mercy, sugar.”

“Such a charmer.”

“Around someone like you, it’s only natural.”

A nibble at the edge of his jaw led his fingers to rub underneath your shirt.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, look at you. One conversation and I was hooked.”

“All it took was one challenge for you to love me?” you chuckled.

“Sugar, all it took was one glance.”

A cry reverberated down the creek as you finally kissed Boothill’s lips. It was panicked and small, drawing you almost entirely from the moment.

Pushing off of his chest, you sat up to survey your surroundings. Boothill rubbed your thigh, looking at you curiously. Just a minute later the two of you stood, spotting a tarnished cloth amongst the bank’s brush.

“Do you see that?”

He followed your gaze, walking ahead of you only to kneel down and lift the sullied fabric. His eyes widened as he beckoned you over. The crying intensified, a tiny head turning from side to side.

A baby.

Boothill was the first to move, cradling them gently in his arms. You brought a finger to their grabbing hands, brushing another one over their forehead.

“What should we do?” you wondered aloud.

“Take them in?” he uttered.

“Are we ready for that, though? We’re wanted criminals, Boothill. That’s no life for a child.”

“Then we settle down.”

“There’s still no guarantee we won’t be hunted or ambushed.”

Your hands fell back to your side, unsure eyes watching the gears turn in his mind.

“We would be their parents, together we can take anybody. Lay down our lives if necessary. We could find somewhere more isolated, maybe even further out of this state. Teach them some of our methods as they get older.”

A heavy sigh left your lungs, the weight of dozens of questions slowly dissipating. There were many details to discuss and new plans to craft. Nonetheless, your head landed on Boothill’s shoulder, two adoring gazes on your child.

~

Butter-colored rays bore through the train car’s windows, wide mountains of tan rock and green bushes waiting outside. A bundle of blankets lay in your arms, encasing your daughter in comfort and warmth.

Boothill had left for them not long after you brought her back to the hotel, returning worriedly with them in hand. They were soft and luscious, leading you to wonder who he had stolen them from. “Only the best for our little girl” – it wasn’t just a statement but a promise.

Another was sworn that evening, your daughter finally clean and sleeping in your arms. Boothill rest behind you in the bed, shielding your small family from any danger while wrapping you in care.

“What should we name her?” he asked quietly, warm breath fanning over your neck.

You pondered silently, letting your head lay on his shoulder. “How about Rena?”

He hummed, a thick finger running over her forehead. “From that play of Effie's, right?”

“I think her story was admirable. Live freely, out on your own road, never waste your time with what you can’t change.”

“Now I like the ring of that.”

“See?” you smiled, a teasing slant to it. “When I wrote to her a few days ago she added in a thought or two about the characters. She said Rena also meant melody, at least according to what she could find in Thatcher's library.”

“Then it's settled.”

His chin landed in the crook of your neck as he simply watched her be, absorbed in thoughts of the future. It wasn’t until she stirred, eyes opening and hands seeking, that you witnessed him take on a gentleness formerly reserved for only you.

His eyes began to water as she held his finger close, staring up in his direction yet unable to pin him down. When she finally did, he sat like a spooked deer, only releasing a low, happy chuckle after your own.

A cough down the car broke you from idle reminiscence. Boothill read a crinkled paper, the letter sent from the ranch you were seeking out. He had come back one evening with the result after days of asking around. Down near Iron Springs, there was someone with plenty of land – could provide decent wages and a cabin to stay in. A suitable place to settle down, with much for Rena to learn and experience.

Taking his cheek between your empty fingers, you pinched and watched him grumble. Despite your lifestyle, you could only hope that this would be a lovely and safe life for her.

—

PART II - A Luminous Star, Ephemeral

Murky skies cried chilling droplets, harshly soaking your bloodstained shirt. The evening had to be setting in, but any hope of seeing the sun finally fade had long since dissipated with the storm’s onslaught. A frayed splinter dug into your palm, the weight of the shovel increasing as the hole in the ground deepened. The dirt was malleable, easy to unearth and pile up.

Many graves were dug by your hand, and you prayed this would be the last.

Boothill wept only a few feet away, Rena’s corpse in his arms underneath a sturdy tree. Ashamed, your gaze fell back to the emptying plot.

Heavy throbbing found its home along your left side, yet still, you had to dig. The pain was deserved – a punishment that fit your crime. Crusting edges tug and bent at the surrounding skin, the quickly cauterized wounds only growing more irritated by the rainwater.

Trickles of pink traversed down your cheeks, blood washing away slowly with your tears. Leaning on the shovel, your eyes rose from the ground. A strong and steady breeze cast the rain in sheets, carving figures in the mist. Discerning who they were was useless, you could remember them anywhere.

Your father, the Weston family, and your daughter.

The mud and soil coating your fingers shifted to a deep scarlet, beads falling from their tips and hitting your boots. Trees morphed into tombstones, and you found yourself paralyzed. Mr. Whitfield’s gravelly voice rang in your ears, drowning out any natural melodies.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to mourn a pure soul, lost too soon. Rena Blackwell was an adored child, and she will continue to be so in our thoughts, and all the way to the depths of our hearts. Her smile could dispel any darkness, and her curiosity persisted to the ends of the earth. Her fascinations lie with animals and music, her greatest friends a pony and her papa’s guitar. May she find eternal peace amidst these mountains and plains, their windy song carrying her gently to the hereafter.”

Lightning crackled across the sky, an omen of your judgment day. Boothill’s shadowed figure stand illuminated by the last ounce of daylight breaking from the clouds. Rena lay delicately in the grave, eyes closed and hands folded, his hat just beneath their union. Wordlessly he took the shovel, leaving you to kneel at her side as dirt cascaded over her corpse.

Stars found their stages in the wisp-struck night sky, their beaming light mocking. If they were tangible to Earth, you would have left plenty of rounds in them. Mourning was an act displayed to you since childhood, but it never came easily. Perhaps that was part of the point. Loss would never be simple, and humanity is far too complex to handle it so. Death was an odd thing, and despite working so intimately with the inevitable specter, it had yet to reveal every one of its forms.

Every body you would prepare never revealed its secrets. No amount of soap and water could cleanse it's invasiveness. No number of incisions and blood drained could release the agony. The fluids injected could not provide life, and clothes would only emulate. Death was permanent, and excruciating to all.

You could shoot a man without hesitation, but being along the receiving end of that cruelty, you could only resign yourself to regret. You killed bad men, yet they still had lives. Friends and family they found or created.

The grating sound of a knife on wood reached your ears, breaking into your thoughts. Boothill sat opposite to you, a neat piece of bark in his hands. Raging thunder rolled, sending a chill down your spine. Paranoia created the shattering sense that you would be reunited with Rena by dawn. Either by your own hands or someone else’s; perhaps the heavens would shoot back, sanctioned by some higher force that heard your monologue.

You watched him work, one tainted hand of yours rubbing back and forth over the dirt housing your daughter. His actions soon faded to oblivion as the song of the storm played on.

When a new bolt of lightning crashed, you became privy to her tombstone.

Rena Blackwell

Beloved star

1892 - 1892

Boothill stood, utterly dejected and tear-stained, before extending a hand down to you. His head met your shoulder once you rose, and one of your hands reached his hair. Strength was needed of you, not misery. The only comfort you received was a fact – no harm would befall you in Boothill’s arms, unless he pointed the gun at you instead.

—

Cheers ascended from under the floorboards, filling your pitch-black room with taunting joy. Your eyes remained on the ceiling, hands at your sides as you lay still – attempting to sink into the hard mattress while the hurricane to your left continued. It was the sixth night ending like this. Boothill had yet to find slumber, his journey to it only filled with suffering. He never reached out, always keeping his back to you and his face toward the pillow.

Despite the stinging urge to run your fingers through his hair, not once could you ever. Conflicting instincts wanting nothing more than to soothe him, but craving an escape.

You rubbed your eyes, throwing the sheet off of your body. The night chill creeped in, the sensation a welcome dissipation for your tenseness. A sniff echoed before a heavy sigh, and not even a moment later the bed resumed its light shaking. Stomps came in unison from the bar below, startling you to jump. With a worn exhale you sat up, feet touching the rough floor. In just a couple quick movements, you were dressed well and ready to face the ruckus below.

A saddened silver gaze finally revealed itself in the sliver of light from the doorway, but yours focused only on the ground, afraid to face him.

Instead, you would find solace in a bartender’s hands, the liquor he poured leaving a delightful blaze in your throat – easing the pain one sip at a time. It was only now you could understand why Isaiah Weston made the choices he did. Too cowardly to navigate his emotions, much less his son’s. The vulnerability intimidating, and any words gone with the wind. A weight too heavy to hold, but various fears preventing you from ever sharing it.

Getting lost in the bottle was a romantic escape, then, even if you would come to regret it. That blossomed the vicious cycle, when your method of coping only added more guilt – defeating the purpose of this night to begin with.

A hand placed itself on your shoulder, bringing your gaze from empty shot glasses to a familiarly styled head of black hair. Tears rapidly welled in your eyes, spirit feeling despondent when their hand returned to the counter.

“Jasper?” you whispered, feeble hope fueling your delusion.

They shook their head at you, “I’m afraid that’s not my name.”

“My apologies.” you nodded, downing another round as they began talking to the bartender.

He was dead, the first to meet the end of your revolver. There was no place to find him besides six feet under, at the very cemetery you first met.

Perhaps a visit to Fort Talia was what you needed. It had been four or five years since you left that fateful night with Boothill, never to look back. Although now, after everything, maybe looking back is the right thing to do. Return to, and learn from the past in order to glance forward. Walk the deck of the funeral parlor, stop by your old house. Finally speak to your mother again.

It was decided. Talk to Boothill come morning and see if he would join you.

—

Bright noon rays lit up the dusty buildings of Fort Talia, its peaceful people walking past Boothill with nods and greetings. Under any other circumstance he would respond, however words failed him now. The brim of his new hat hung low, obscuring his features and providing a bit of comfort. The less others saw of him the better.

He was fractured, too many pieces scattered across the range for him to find. Conversation would not come easy when he could hardly even handle a talk with himself. Your hotel rooms had become suffocating as of late. Silence reigning and gazes only ever in opposing directions. It was cold – a sensation Boothill had become unfamiliar with after all these years. That only served to make your icy temperament feel like a burning hell. No words exit your lips, eyes focused out of windows, on the ceiling or the floor. It was unbearable, the shunning that leaked from your figure.

What had he done to make you feel so? Was he even to blame?

Silver watched the clouds drift over the sky, a horrible longing to join them occupying his mind. A nearly impossible fate for him, now feared more than ever.

“Papa!”

A small, light voice shouted excitedly, followed by the pattering of boots on the deck.

Boothill turned expectantly, arms shifting and ready to pick up his daughter.

Instead he was made a fool.

He quickly returned to a regular stance, leaving down the nearby alleyway to lean himself against the wood. That was somebody else’s child, not his. The title he came to love most would never be used again, abandoned amidst the Iron Springs forest. “Papa” was her first word, and possibly even her last.

He recalled the tears you shared when she spoke, listening to her babble about him. Her voice was that of angels, as if he was finally worthy of speaking to the heavens.

Now he lost that angel, the most vivid star in the sky.

~

Three moss-coated tombstones lay before you, names that you first came to know at fifteen.

Isaiah, Callie, and Jasper.

Ellis must rest in Warren, then. Forever separated from his family.

A couple desert marigolds grew along the path to the cemetery, and you left one at each of their graves. Six in total gathered in your hand – one for each person you were to visit, as well as two extras for whoever you saw fit.

Boots trudged through the dry ground, avoiding stones that shaped plots or decorated the base of a tombstone. Rocks of grey and tan sat below your father’s and the one now beside it.

Upon reading the inscription, the marigolds fell to the dust.

Your mother was buried at his right, her death only one year ago.

With your forehead to the fine wood of said tombstone, your resolve finally crumbled. Any strength you wished to hold forsaken for the misery you denied. Tears flowed and fell frenzied, patiently creating a mud where your fingertips dug into the ground.

All of this loss, but why?

Why cherish anything if it would only be ripped away?

Holding your precious little girl one moment, only for her blood to splash over your face the next. Befriend a lonely boy, one who you found a kinship with, just for him to be shot by your hand.

Your mother, who despite her own mourning, still silently reached out to you, giving you what support she could muster. Your father, who robbed and killed unbeknownst to you, still provided and taught you things he knew about the world that would never be shared at the old schoolhouse.

They all had one common thread – loving you.

Burden, plague, curse. All words that could describe what a detriment you were. If they never loved you, never met or created you, perhaps their fates would be different.

What of Boothill, then?

—

Droplet-stained windows displayed a wagon of bottles stopping outside of the saloon. One of the drivers lept from its front, unlocking the back panel and pulling out two jugs. He lifted them in each hand, a big smile on his face as he cheered through the doors.

The crude and familiar scent of cigarette smoke curled through the window as you cracked it open, the stale quietude of your hotel room grating your nerves. Boothill observed you idly from the bed as you inhaled deeply, palms on the framing. The smell was lovely now, soothing almost. His gaze bore into you, seemingly trying to decipher your inner world.

"What is it?" you spoke softly, head turning toward him.

He sighed, eyes shifting to the ceiling. "I… You've just been so… cold I guess. I try not to take it personally, but I can't help it sometimes."

"Our daughter died, Boothill."

He sat up, "You think I don't know that?"

With a heavy exhale, you faced him. "Of course you do, but I just…"

"Every day begins and ends with her. Not a second goes by where that scene ain't fillin' my head."

"You assume it isn't the same for me? I watched them shoot her – her blood was on my face for hours! Do you think I can forget that?"

"I'm not askin' you to!"

"It sure sounds like it!"

"I just want some answers and for you to recognize that you're not the only one hurtin' here. Shutting me out hasn't been doing any good."

"Shutting you out? I recall you doing that to me. Any time I reach out, you leave or move away from me, and I get no words, nothing! You've got no love or respect for me anymore!"

"Don't you go there." He stood, inching closer to you with every word. "How dare you say that I feel nothing for you. If anything, you've been giving that treatment to me. Do you know how it feels to lay there cryin', wishing that your partner would just run their fingers through your hair and share that pain with you? No. Instead they go out for the night doin' who the heaven knows what, and then return at dawn like nothing happened. Like they didn't just abandon you to return reeking of alcohol or bruised and bloodied. Do you know how powerless that makes somebody?"

"I'm handlin' my own pain my way. I'm tryin' to be strong for you!"

"I don't want you to be strong for me! I want to know that my partner is here, and never leavin'! You remember what I said? I take care of you and you take care of me. That was the promise!"

"Well how are you takin' care of me exactly?"

"How am I supposed to begin if you never let me in!"

"Rich comin' from the likes of you."

"Why're you talkin' down to me? Do you think that helps?"

He paused before you, staring down into your eyes with a mixture of fire and love – an undertone of concern and fear. His hands came to hold your shoulders, and you hesitantly accepted the touch. One drifted up to the side of your neck, his thumb tracing your jaw and the edge of your cheek. The way he'd always comfort you. A guilt began setting in, tearing and biting at your throat, preventing any words from leaving you – likely for the better after your childish retorts.

"I don't wanna fight with you, darlin'. Please, just talk to me."

Wordlessly, you placed your arms around his neck, hugging him cheek to cheek. His own came to encase you when you finally whispered everything in his ear.

"I miss you… so much it hurts. I'm so sorry for all of the turmoil I've given you. That was never my intention. I just… I felt like you hated me. Blamed me for her… death."

"I never could."

"And I know that now. I didn't mean to be so cold, and I understand how you need me. I must admit I'd like to be selfish and have you do the same."

"That's not selfish."

You sniffed, "My… my mama died a year ago."

"Darlin'..."

"I didn't know." Fresh tears welled in your eyes. "She had no way to write to me. I have no idea what could have happened to her. She was all alone, lost to the world in our little house."

His hands descended to your hips, carefully stepping backward as you clung to him reluctant to move. He turned, setting you down on the bed before walking to get a blanket off of one of the chairs. The soft wool came into your hands before a weight settled behind you.

“Lay down.”

You shifted up the bed, throwing the blanket over your legs and resting your head. Boothill shuffled up next to you, his cheek to your chest. He stared up at you, eyes closing when your fingers finally ran through his hair. A sigh filled the room, mingling with gentle neighing from the street below. Silver was revealed to you once more, a low and husky whisper reaching your ears.

"We had this huge tree, back on the farm down in Redhawk. Its branches were wide and overflowing with leaves, but on a windy night you could see the stars through them. My fathers, they were always dreaming -- planning for our future. We'd sit out there and they'd talk for a while, answer any of my questions and teach me some life lessons. Eventually, one would get to strummin' on the guitar and we'd sing and cheer along – it was the most fun when some of their friends would come to visit or we'd host some guests from the road.

One was more pragmatic than the other, though they both had sharp minds. He could talk to anybody, find out anything he wanted to know. More caring and gentle, but still very strong. My other was a great gunslinger, and charismatic to a fault. He was a little rough around the edges, but I loved him anyway. They were my idols; taught me nearly everything I knew before I started goin' on the round-ups. Wasn't until I went back to our farm just a couple years later that I found it tore apart, two letters on the dining table for me. They were gone -- one captured and killed by the NHA and the other off to get revenge. He left me one of his revolvers, the same one I still use today."

Your fingers ran over his exposed cheek, noting the brimming water in his eyes matching your own.

“They raised a brilliant son.”

Your voice cracked as you finished speaking, watching him cry into you as you released your own burdens. The euphoria of budding forgiveness and the grief previously set aside catching up to you. It seemed that nearly every pain of yours was one he shared at some point or another, and it only emphasized the resolution of your argument.

You needed each other now more than ever.

—

“Are my eyes playin’ tricks on me?”

“Well I don’t believe it either.”

A man shook hands strongly with Boothill, hitting his other down on his shoulder. He had a confident glint in his hazel gaze, a boisterous air around him.

“How’ve you been, you beautiful piece of scrap?” he chuckled.

“Times have certainly been better.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, friend.” was his somber reply.

You extended your hand, feeling a calloused one against your palm.

“I see you’re his partner in crime, undertaker.”

“You got one of your own yet?” you asked, trying to keep the atmosphere light.

“Of course! You’re more than welcome to come by tonight and meet her, our kids as well! We’ve got two of them raisin’ hell all over the place.”

“Thank you, but-”

“We’ll be there.” Boothill interrupted, a sharp smile contrasting with his sullen eyes.

“I’m happy to hear that!” Lee beamed, “Some supper'll be ready for you.”

His hand hit your elbow playfully before he focused on Boothill.

“What liquor do you like now, ‘Hill?”

~

Lee’s porch was well-lit, a small garden out front with bright flowers and a structure of twigs resting alongside the stairs. It was likely built by his children, or whoever got distracted while watering and left puddles on the steps. A light knock reverberated through the door, summoning a figure that stood as tall as the knob to open it.

“Hello!”

Quick steps came from behind them, before the door was tugged open further.

“Come in, please!”

You were the first to cross the threshold, a large fireplace and a set table coming into view. Chairs were gathered immediately to your left, some books and a half-built pyramid of empty cans decorating the scene. Blankets were gathered against the wall, dark brown eyes meeting yours as a shaggy dog rose from its bed.

Lee carried a pot to the table, a white cloth protecting his hands from the hot handles. He uttered warnings of the heat to his kids, the same ones who greeted you at the door. Another figure, just slightly taller than him, followed behind with a pitcher of water in one hand and a bottle of bourbon in the other.

While they continued preparing the food and adjusting the ambience, one child tugged on the ends of Boothill’s coat. The other peppered him with questions, looking excitedly at his gun and even more so at the chamber kept in his arm. A small smile grew on his face at their attention before they returned to Lee, wanting to know stories about his “heroic” friend. He followed them to the table, pouring two cups of water from the pitcher and handing it to them. Joyfully, they thanked him and resumed their conversation with Lee.

Seeing what he had raised mixed feelings. You were happy that he had found somebody of his own, that they seemed to love each other and work well together. That joy still couldn’t bury the tinge of envy sinking in, created from how it hurt to be reminded of what your family could have been had Rena simply been allowed to grow.

Scratching behind one of the dog’s ears, a tap landed on your shoulder and grey fingers came into view. They held a glass out to you, filled with clear liquid.

“For you, darlin’.”

The undertone of his words were not lost on you – avoid drinking tonight. Let me take care of you.

“Would you like some stew?”

The welcoming voice of Evelyn sounded from the dining table, a bowl and ladle in her hands. You accepted her offer, watching her gold wedding band glint in the light as you approached her. Their dog followed just behind, its nose occasionally bumping into the back of your leg.

The stew was warm in your hands, making a soft thud against the counter as you sat beside Boothill. A savory broth coated your tongue, the heat of a home-cooked meal comforting amidst the chilly desert night. Conversation flowed easily between all of you, as if you were playing back at the saloon years ago. It wasn’t until there were scraps in bowls and empty glasses covering the table that it took a more serious turn.

Evelyn dismissed their children, Emmett and Mable, from the table. Begrudgingly they went to the living area, playing with the dog and continuing to build their pyramid.

"What happened, 'Hill?" Lee questioned lowly.

You placed your hand along the back of Boothill's neck, meeting his somber gaze. “Let’s talk about it.”

He sighed, his eyes leaving yours and looking at the couple on the opposite side of the table. "Just eight or nine months ago we found a baby up in Iris Creek. We took her in as our own, raising her at that ranch I was tellin’ you about in Iron Springs.” He paused a moment, and you brushed your thumb against his nape, your focus remaining on the wood floor. “About… About three weeks ago the NHA came knockin'. They killed her right in front of them." His gaze turned to you momentarily. "I arrived shortly after."

"I'm so incredibly sorry to hear that." Evelyn spoke gently, placing her hands over one of yours and Boothill's. "I won't pretend to know that pain, but we're here if you need anything."

Lee reciprocated her action, a grit in his voice that was vastly different from hers. "Those cruel bastards will get their judgment day." He exhaled after a glance from his wife, solemnly looking at you, then at Boothill. "She's right, though. A room, food, company, whatever you need. There'll always be a warm fire ready here for you."

—

Bidding farewell to the McHale’s was difficult. They wanted nothing more than to continue catching up, but the night was passing and grogginess collectively set in. Emmett and Mable shouted their goodbyes from the porch, accompanied by the waves of Evelyn and Lee. You returned their gestures, slowly riding off from their home. Boothill’s gaze turned to the stars after saying his own goodbyes, watching the sky as he shifted back and forth. There was much to ponder after that visit, especially for him. The two of you hadn’t talked much in the past few hours, occupied by your own worlds and memories of the past.

Life had been fulfilling thus far, though one world-altering regret weighed heavily on that idea. A certain finality came with it, a need for eventual acceptance lest you meet that finality yourself. In time you would arrive there, but for now it was best to let the pain run its course – feel it and share in it. Boothill had no expectation of you than to simply be there for him as he is for you. Rena had two parents, and lived the best, most beautiful life you could provide for her.

There was one thing you had learned about death -- all that it claimed were eternally benevolent, either in life or the hereafter. If your parents, or Boothill's fathers were here right now, made of flesh and blood, they would want the best for you. For you to live another day and find your place in this wide and bittersweet world. They strived the same as you, to give their child the life they deserved. Perhaps Jasper's notions in the face of death's door were correct. Family would reunite, free of burdens and earthly matters. Spirits would live on in bliss, their memory preserved by each generation.

When you picture all that you've lost, you see a beautiful ranch -- just like the one you worked in Iron Springs. There would be a grand tree, housing Boothill's fathers and little Rena giggling and tugging on one's hair just like she would with you. Your parents would exit a cabin with various drinks and a bowl of apples, stopping to share one with a horse on their way to the meeting spot. Maybe even the Weston's were there, Isaiah smiling from a rocking chair on the porch. Callie would be happy, free of sickly features and whistling a tune. Ellis, cleaning his guns right beside his father. And Jasper would walk from the door, giving each of them a hug before running over to your parents and helping them carry their goods.

If the day ever came, when you would face that reaper with your boots on, that was the life you craved to return to. One where you could drink, laugh, and settle things with your large family -- everyone you ever held dear gathered 'round to celebrate the day. You would wait for Boothill, the inevitable fact being that he would outlive you. It was an idea accepted long ago. Confronting reality was necessary for the life you lead.

Yet that was the other thing about death -- love surpasses it. No matter what kind that love was, it would dance across the edge into the realm of departure. While it may alter itself, those living would still hold its fondness.

If the day ever came that Boothill joined you, either as he is now or as Jesse Blackwell, you would greet him with arms wide open. That very same love remaining with the dead, living in their own peaceful way at your little ranch.

"What's on your mind, darlin'?" he whispered, gazing at you now, instead of the night sky.

"You, and our dreams." you replied with a small smile.

“How romantic of you.” he chuckled, a contrasting and heavy look in his eyes.

Silence rode along between you for a moment until you spoke up, “Where do we go from here?”

He exhaled, a defeated yet promising sound. “Let’s just start with our hotel room. Take it one day at a time from there.”

[jimxnslight]

Fool's Gold || Part I

Summary: Sweet Y/N, with her fluffy pastel dresses, soft makeup, and ditzy mannerisms. She’s seen as a fool in a world where there is no place for such things, but little do they know, the only fools are them.

Pairing: mafia leader!Jungkook x mafia leader's daughter!reader

Genre: mafia au, arranged marriage au

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: most warnings associated with mafia fics (e.g. violence, blood, etc), additional warnings might be added as the story progresses

<< masterlist || next part >>

“I heard that she’s a complete airhead.”

Jungkook’s expensive shoes smacked against the pristine white and gold marble floors as he continued to walk through the lavish hallway, hands disappearing behind his pockets while his steps were slow and confident. Most would think he was choosing to ignore the comment, but his closest friend knew better than to rush a man as calculating as Jungkook. 

Instead, Taehyung strolled alongside him, taking in the glittering chandeliers looming over their heads and the intricate designs carved into the white walls that were much too traditional for his taste. Jungkook and Taehyung were nowhere near out of place in the sea of extravagance with their custom suits and shiny black dress shoes. Taehyung, the more simple of the two, had his brown hair parted and pushed back to reveal a blemish free forehead while his grey and black suit complimented the grey specks in his brown irises. 

On the other hand, Jungkook’s black on black outfit adorned two expensive cufflinks and a gold brooch attached to his lapel. Taehyung’s gaze dropped to his black hair, which he noticed had grown in the past month. 

When Taehyung realised that Jungkook wasn’t going to speak, he decided to fill the silence. 

“Like apparently she’s huge on wearing pink and frilly stuff -which I guess is just a girl thing- but still, this is a mafia not a tea party.”

He paused, waiting for his comrade to offer his thoughts, but was met with silence once again. 

“I’ve also heard she’s dumber than a pile of rocks. Barely passed high school and then dropped out of university not even a month in. Her major wasn’t even that hard. Commerce, was it?”

Taehyung’s eyebrows furrowed as Jungkook continued to lengthen the silence. 

“And as you already must know, she was also married about a year ago but then was widowed after her husband was killed by a rival gang on the same day. Even though their marriage didn’t even last a full 24 hours, she had been so traumatised by the whole thing that apparently she didn’t even speak for an entire month after the ordeal. Can you imagine how much of a princess she must be for a simple death to shake her that much? She must be a real- come on man, how long are you going to make me go on?”

Jungkook turned his head to offer him a sly grin, “I was wondering when you would reach your limit.”

Taehyung gave him a halfhearted punch to the arm, “you’re such a jerk. Answer my question man. I’m dying to know what she’s actually like.”

He followed Jungkook as he turned into another hallway, curious as to what he thought of her, but his answer had him staring at Jungkook incredulously. 

“I don’t know.”

Taehyung faltered in his step, gaping at the back of the man who continued through the hallway nonchalantly. When the weight of his answer finally processed completely in Taehyung’s mind, he ran forward so that he could walk alongside his friend once again. 

“I think you misunderstood my question,” Taehyung tried again slowly, “I want to know about Lee Y/N, you know, your soon to be wife? The one you’re about to marry right now?”

“What is there to know?” Jungkook commented, mind occupied with a topic of much more importance, “a marriage with her will allow for the unification of two powerful mafia families and will also allow for an heir to be born. Is that not the whole point of marriages for individuals like us?”

“Well yeah, but there’s no harm in getting to know her at least a little bit. Did you even hear about the ‘dumb as rocks’ part when I was rambling?”

“That will only make her easier to control,” he deadpanned.

“Fine, whatever. Is she at least pretty?”

Taehyung’s eyes widened even more when Jungkook didn’t respond, “please tell me you’ve met her at least once. Oh my god, have you even looked at a picture of her?” 

Jungkook's silence was all Taehyung needed to know that the answer was, in fact, no,” I knew I shouldn’t have gone out of the country! My parents kept telling me everything would be fine and they’d take care of the whole thing but you haven’t even met her once? I should’ve made my return flight earlier, then I could’ve-”

Taehyung’s voice faltered as he noticed Jungkook’s distant expression, causing his brows to furrow. He wasn’t listening to a word he was saying, which wasn’t something entirely out of the ordinary, but it usually wasn’t this bad. He sighed as he shifted his gaze to the expensive hall before him. 

“Is this about the Parks?” He asked, noticing his friend’s focus return.

“It’s the Parks and the Mins,” Jungkook admitted, “ever since their alliance, they’ve been getting bold. They made a move on our West docks last week and would have been successful in seizing them if it weren’t for the blackmail I managed to procure at the last minute. But that won’t hold them off for long.”

Taehyung’s head tilted to the side, “you’ve always enjoyed a challenge. Why’s this bothering you so much?”

Jungkook turned into another hallway to finally come face to face with a large pair of grandiose double doors that towered over them. The two men came to a stop, aware that their conversation was now on a timer. 

“I just… have an uneasy feeling,” he said, unable to reveal anymore to Taehyung. He couldn’t bring himself to tell his best friend what he had really witnessed when he visited the docks yesterday.

Taehyung, clueless to Jungkook’s inner turmoil, slapped him on the back, lightening the mood with a grin, “come on man, this is your wedding. You’ll figure everything out later, for now just relax. You deserve it.”

Before he could protest, Taehyung shoved the double doors open to reveal an enormous and crowded wedding hall. The white and gold marble floor stretched across the entire room, while multiple diamonds came together to form a giant chandelier that hung over the hundreds of tables that had been decorated with shiny silverware and pristine white roses. The people were just as decorated as the furniture, with their elegant gowns and glamorous jewellery. 

At the sound of the doors opening, the once chattering crowd silenced, opting to sneak glances at Jungkook and his friend instead. Hushed whispers echoed around the hall as Jungkook straightened his back and held his head high before making his way to the centre of the room. Behind him, Taehyung took his place, his outgoing and extroverted personality tucked away to look just as regal and intimidating as the groom. The crowd began gathering on either side of the aisle, clearly excited for the bride who had been scheduled to appear any second now. 

Most men’s hearts would be racing during a time like this, Jungkook thought distantly, eyes focused on the aisle as well. Marriage to others was supposed to symbolise unwavering love and devotion. But not for him. For him marriage was simply a contract, a means to an end that he hoped would lessen the burden of a number of challenges. In a world like this, there was no such thing as love. 

Only power. 

The sound of the double doors opening pulled him from his thoughts, with two professionally dressed workers fixing them on either side so that they remained open this time. Jungkook watched a pair of women in what seemed like light pink bridesmaid dresses trail behind two girls who couldn’t have been more than five throwing white and light pink flower petals in the air. Behind the entourage was a figure drenched in white. 

You walked slowly into the room, your glimmering white dress trailing behind you as a thick white veil draped over your face and the front of your dress. Jungkook could only make out your hands clutching a small bouquet of white roses while your arm looped around your father’s, who was slowly guiding you down the aisle. Despite the aid, he couldn’t help but notice an uneasiness to your steps and a slight shake in your hands. 

The crowd’s gaze stayed fixed on your figure, drinking in the Jeon Jungkook’s soon to be wife. There were some gasps of astonishment at the beauty of your dress and figure, while there were some gasps of jealousy towards the woman who was taking Jungkook off the market. You didn’t seem to pay them any attention as your head stayed fixed in front of you, focusing on not falling as you continued through the aisle. 

To Jungkook, it felt like years had passed before you finally reached the small steps leading to the stage he was standing on, your bridesmaids taking their places on the opposite side of where Taehyung was standing. Your father unlooped his arm from yours and stepped back to sit on one of the seats that had been reserved for him, leaving you to hesitantly step onto the stage yourself. Your heel wobbled as you brought your foot forward and Jungkook knew exactly what would happen before it did. 

He watched your heel slip sideways, causing you to careen to your right under the heaviness of your dress. But before you could crash into the large pots of white roses, Jungkook shot forward so that his hand could grab your waist, hoisting you up to prevent you from falling. The crowd swooned at the gesture, murmuring about its romantic nature, though all Jungkook could wonder was how you’ve been surviving in a mafia family for so long. Taehyung had only said you were dumb, not a complete klutz too. 

He could feel the warmth of your delicate hand on his shoulder as he guided you up the steps, only letting go of you once the two of you were facing the patiently waiting priest. Once he had motioned for everyone to sit, he began his sermon in an obnoxiously boring voice. Jungkook had no particular interest in paying attention to a speech he had listened to multiple times growing up. Instead, he took the chance to survey you briefly. With your veil still hiding your face, he could only take in your perfect figure and pristine skin. 

Eventually, the priest asked you to remove your veil, to which you complied slowly. Taehyung came forward, offering to take the bouquet in your hands while your bridesmaids helped you hesitantly lift the soft white cloth over your head. 

A wave of hushed whispers spread throughout the crowd at the sight of your face, one that caught Jungkook off guard. Your eyes had been lined with a light liner, while your lips and cheeks had been made to look dainty. Your hair fell from the top of your head to your shoulders, styled in a way that framed your features and neck. Jungkook noticed a small silver necklace in the shape of a heart resting against your exposed collarbone. 

Your makeup made you look so innocent and… young. Jungkook almost wanted to pull Taehyung’s parents aside and confirm that you really were twenty three and not some nineteen year old. It was a bit of a turn off, he realised, slightly bothered by the fact. As a twenty six year old, he obviously wasn’t into teenagers, so he didn’t know what having a wife that looked like one was going to do for him. 

Then again, he wasn’t marrying you for some kind of gratification. He was marrying you because he needed to form a strong alliance between your father’s gang and his so that he could be, or at the very least appear, stronger than the Mins and Parks. You were nothing more than a path to more power and, aside from upholding his responsibilities as a husband, he would treat you as such.

As the priest continued to drone on, Jungkook continued to analyse your form. He watched your eyes stay focused on the priest before they strayed, hesitantly landing on Jungkook for a split second. When you noticed his gaze already on you, a small squeak sounded from your lips before you quickly shifted your focus forward. With the bouquet of flowers now hanging from Taehyung’s hand, your own fingers were clasped awkwardly in front of you. 

You were apparently everything Taehyung had painted you as earlier, Jungkook thought. Your makeup and mannerisms had an air of exaggerated innocence, while your body language was shy and sheepish. He had no problem imagining you as a weak girl that was so traumatised by the death of your first husband that you couldn’t utter a single word the following month. 

The priest turned to the seated crowd, beckoning anyone that had an issue with the marriage to step forward and speak their mind. Just as Jungkook expected, no one dared make a stand, preferring to cherish the connection between their head and neck instead. Following the silence, you and Jungkook were made to stand facing each other.

Your gaze was fixed on his collar, seemingly too shy to meet Jungkook’s eyes. It only confirmed his suspicions regarding your confidence, or lack thereof. 

Yet, despite your evidently timid nature and lack of intelligence, Jungkook couldn’t help but experience an uncanny feeling lingering at the back of his mind. Perhaps it was his untrusting nature, or maybe he had just been forced to over analyse you during the long and boring sermon. But he could have sworn that there was something about you. Just… something about the way you had trouble meeting his gaze yet seemed to have no problem in scanning Taehyung up and down. For a fraction of a moment, the look in your eyes was almost calculated, as if you had been assessing him. But just as fast as Jungkook thought he saw it, the look disappeared, replaced by a timid and shy gaze once again. It left him questioning whether he had even seen it in the first place, or whether he was letting paranoia see things that weren’t there. 

Finally, the priest turned to the two of you and made you both say your vows outloud. They were the standard vows, Jungkook and you putting no effort in creating a confession that you both knew was ingenuine. Instead, the two of you repeated after him, answering “I do” when the time was right. Jungkook was glad that, despite your seemingly ditzy nature, you hadn’t requested any giant romantic gestures. According to your father, you had even had no problem with Jungkook requesting that there be no kiss at the altar. It made his life a lot easier and truthfully made this entire situation a lot less awkward.

To Jungkook’s relief, the priest finally addressed the crowd once more, ending the sermon on a final note filled with hope and prosperity. He spoke about how the marriage would strengthen the two mafias, mitigating worries relating to attacks from enemies that may wish to harm them. Jungkook had already expected this part of the speech, as he had been the one to tell the priest to say those exact words. 

At the end of the sermon, Jungkook and you were made to walk down the aisle back to where he knew his expensive car was waiting. He turned to you, looping his arm around yours so that you wouldn’t fall again, and guided you down the steps slowly. He noticed that your every step was still wobbly and he could feel your hand shaking as you placed it on his bicep to steady yourself further. But this time, with the veil now draped behind you, he could see the distress in your face as well. Your eyes were wide as you took in the crowd surrounding you, looking as naive as Taehyung had made you out to be. 

Jungkook tried to remind himself of Taehyung’s words. About how you had barely been able to pass high school and then completely dropped out of university a month in. About how your style consisted of pink and frilly clothes that didn’t have much place in the mafia. About how, at this moment, you seemed almost scared of the crowd and attention. 

A girl like that was shy and naive and ditzy. Aside from being slightly irritating, that meant you couldn’t be much of a threat to him or anyone else. If anything your incompetence would be a threat to your own self. Jungkook had nothing to worry about when it came to you. 

So he tried not to be unsettled. 

He tried not to be unsettled by the fact that, despite your apparently innocent and weak nature, your fingers were gripping into his bicep so hard he would no doubt wake up with a bruise tomorrow morning. 

He tried not to be unsettled by the way your shy gaze, which stayed fixed on the floor, would sometimes stray upwards to almost study the crowd around you before quickly darting back to the ground. 

He tried not to be unsettled when you looked up at him to give him a bashful smile, one that the logical part of him agreed looked sweet and innocent enough.

Yet, why did another part of him wonder whether there had been something else lurking behind those seemingly innocent eyes?

-

-

-

The only thing that Jungkook had learned about you from the car ride was that your voice was as light and soft as your appearance. 

The ride in his black car decorated with gleaming small white roses and ribbons had been mostly silent, the two of you making no effort to start a conversation. Jungkook had never been one for small talk, more than content to let Taehyung talk for hours instead. The reason for your lack of conversation, though, was unknown to him. 

It was only when he was speeding through the highway that you had spoken to request that he slow down a bit. Your voice had been soft and timid, as if you were scared that Jungkook would lash out at you for the simple request. Or maybe that was just the way you spoke. Considering your personality, Jungkook wouldn’t find that too hard to believe.

Now the two of you walked through the entrance of his home, your eyes taking in the grandeur of it all. Despite its vastness, Jungkook felt that this was where he felt the most comfortable: between the white and fawn walls, the elaborately designed bannisters, and the creme marble floors. His home had remained the only constant in his life and, because of that, he cherished it immensely. 

There were only a few people that Jungkook had allowed inside, all of whom were people that he trusted with his life. This was the first time, he realised, that someone outside of those few was stepping foot onto the marble floor and laying their eyes on the spiralling staircase. It was an odd feeling, allowing you to enter into what he felt was the only place that truly allowed his mind and body to relax. 

He observed your reaction curiously, taking in your wide eyes. They bounced from one thing to the next, each structure seeming to fascinate you more and more. He still couldn’t shake off the feeling that you were assessing the space, but the logical part of him kept trying to reassure himself that you couldn’t possibly be considered any kind of threat. 

The sound of the door opening behind him pulled him from his thoughts. He turned around to find Taehyung walking through the doorway, a particular look on his face. Jungkook recognised it right away, causing him to turn to you for a moment while calling over one of the maids. 

“Get her to the bedroom,” Jungkook commanded the maid as Taehyung stepped beside him, “and help her take off her makeup and dress into something comfortable.”

The maid nodded before she began to guide you up the flight of stairs, pointing out a few directions here and there to get you comfortable with the new environment. Jungkook watched you look back at him and Taehyung for a split second, an unreadable look in your eyes, before you faced forward once again and allowed yourself to be dragged away wordlessly. 

Once you had disappeared up the stairs, Jungkook turned to Taehyung with a raised eyebrow.

“Well?” He prodded. 

Taehyung glanced at the top of the stairs to make sure you really were gone, “I should be asking you that. What do you think of her?”

Jungkook mulled over his question for a moment, “she seems to be everything you said she is. Although, are you sure-”

“She is one hundred percent twenty three years old. I triple checked that one,” Taehyung said immediately, hands up in a gesture of surrender. 

Jungkook let his hands nestle into his pockets, wondering if he should bring up his other concerns as well. Uptil now, you haven’t actually done or said anything worth garnering suspicion. Jungkook just seemed to be picking up on small things here and there, but he wasn’t sure if those things were just him being paranoid or genuinely things that he should be cautious over. This whole marriage thing was proving to be a lot more confusing than he had initially thought. 

“What is it?” Taehyung asked, noticing his friend’s silence. Jungkook hesitated for a moment, but, after earning a questioning look from Taehyung, he relented slightly. 

“How well of a background check did your parents do on her?” Jungkook asked cautiously. He didn’t want Taehyung to know too much of how he was feeling at the moment, in case this was just his mind being overactive, but something in Taehyung’s expression seemed to indicate that he knew a lot more than what Jungkook was letting on. 

“They did a very thorough one, of course,” Taehyung said, eyeing Jungkook knowingly, “you know my parents. If there’s one thing that they’re the best at, it’s uncovering people’s secrets.”

Then he added with a smile, “couldn’t get away with much while growing up because of it.”

Jungkook let his gaze wander around the room, “I just…”

“You’re just suspicious of her,” Taehyung finished, causing Jungkook to look his way, “of course you’re suspicious Jungkook, you’re letting a girl that you’ve never even met before into your house for the first time. It’s a natural reaction, especially considering how untrusting we’ve been conditioned to be since we were young.”

Taehyung clapped Jungkook on the back reassuringly, “I was the exact same way when I married Chaewon. Hell, in our first year of being married I even accused her of being a traitor when she was planning a surprise party for my birthday. When she finally told me… man, it took me a whole year to make it up to her. On another note, from a married man to a newly married man, don’t accuse your wife of anything unless you’re a hundred and ten percent sure of it. Otherwise you’ll never hear the end of it.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, causing Taehyung to laugh.

“Besides, have you seen Y/N? She’s so shy and naive, her own reflection in the mirror must frighten her. I doubt you have anything to worry about, especially after my parents’ background check. Just enjoy yourself, man, it’s your wedding night,” Taehyung said with a knowing smirk. 

Obviously ignoring the suggestive comment, Jungkook nodded, finding logic in Taehyung’s other words. Jungkook had never been married, all of this was new to him. But if Taehyung, who had been married for almost a decade, said feelings like this were normal, then maybe he really was just being overly paranoid about the situation. You’d had a thorough background check done, which revealed nothing, and your personality was quite clear to Jungkook after he’d observed you at the wedding. 

It was time Jungkook started trying to enjoy this marriage as much as he could. He was going to be stuck with you indefinitely, and constantly being suspicious of you was only going to wear him out, especially since you now had access to the only place he allowed himself to be free of the constantly vigilant and calculating mind that came with being the leader of the Jeons. 

Jungkook turned to Taehyung, about to thank him for the insight, but the sound of the door opening once again caused the two to shift their gaze to behind them. The sight of the man walking through the doorway immediately had Jungkook wrinkling his nose in distaste while Taehyung’s expression had become a distant neutral. The man didn’t seem to mind the reactions if he noticed them, casually strolling deeper into the house until he was standing before the two. 

“Jungkook, Taehyung,” Daehyun nodded, the respectful gesture somehow seeming more disrespectful if anything. He had clearly just come back from the wedding, still wearing his black suit and light brown hair styled back, “you just got married, yet I see only Taehyung and no bride. Shall I assume the two of you are running away together?”

The tasteless joke was followed by a deep laugh, one that belonged to neither Jungkook nor Taehyung. Instead they just stared at him with an unamused scowl.

“Relax, it’s only a joke,” he shook his head, gaze wandering the place casually, “I doubt your wife and kid would like the thought of that anyway.”

Taehyung’s jaw ticked at Daehyun’s words. Even if he hadn’t directly threatened or disrespected them in any way, just the mention of his family from his mouth was enough for Taehyung’s gaze to turn icy.

“Careful Daehyun, you’re standing before two mafia leaders,” Taehyung said, voice low and intimidating, “I would be less casual in our presence if I were you.”

To Taehyung and Jungkook’s dismay, Daehyun simply chuckled, “ah yes, but Jungkook and I are cousins. He’ll cut me some slack, won’t he?”

Jungkook didn’t answer, even after Daehyun gave his arm a lighthearted punch. Daehyun was the cousin that Jungkook could never be rid of, no matter how badly he wanted to. He was slimy and tactless and everything Jungkook hated rolled into one unbearable being. Having to give him access to his home, his only place of peace, had been one of the hardest things to do. But at the time, Jungkook had had to make sacrifices and this had been one of them. 

Daehyun, undeterred by his cousin’s lack of response, leaned his arm on Jungkook’s shoulder casually, “congratulations by the way. When I saw your wife’s face- god did she look young! You’re so lucky man, I hope my future wife turns out like that.”

Jungkook grimaced as he suddenly felt the desire to wipe off any remnants of Daehyun’s touch from his suit. Daehyun had attended the same university as Taehyung and Jungkook, yet he had evidently obtained none of the class that they had. Everyday he wondered how the two of them could possibly be related. For the sake of Jungkook’s mental wellbeing, sometimes he liked to imagine Daehyun had actually been adopted and his parents had simply decided not to share that piece of information. 

“I should get going,” Jungkook said stiffly, brushing his cousin’s arm off his shoulder. He fixed his suit as Daehyung smirked at him, likely thinking of Jungkook’s comment as more suggestive than he had actually meant. 

Jungkook faced Taehyung to give him a curt nod before he turned and began walking up the stairs, not bothering to use the fawn iron bannisters on either side of him. He could hear Taehyung taking his leave through the front door, dragging a complaining Daehyun behind him to Jungkook’s satisfaction. The sound of the front door shutting had never sounded so delightful. 

A silence ensued as Jungkook walked through the hallway upstairs, continuing until he paused in front of his bedroom’s door. He couldn’t hear any noises coming from inside the room, so, with a light knock against the white and fawn wood, his hand wrapped around the handle to turn it and finally push the door open. 

The windows displayed an almost set sun, coating the atmosphere in a blanket of dimness. Everything about his bedroom had been changed. His once dark brown and white bed had been switched out for a cream and fawn coloured one, with a bouquet of vibrant red roses sitting atop the fancy and plush duvet, while his black leather couches had been replaced by light cloth ones. The ceiling and walls had been painted white, complimenting the new white and fawn patterned marble floor. His old dresser had also disappeared, a cream coloured dresser twice its size sitting in its place instead. 

Aside from the drastic changes that had been made to his bedroom, no doubt to signify the change that came with marriage, the first thing Jungkook noticed was the maid who was drawing the curtains closed. The room would have fallen into complete darkness if it weren’t for the lamps sitting atop the bedside tables which were emanating a warm light around the space. 

The second thing he noticed was you, who was sitting timidly on the edge of the bed and facing him. Your fingers were playing awkwardly in front of you while your gaze had been fixed on the floor, but at the sound of the door opening, your head raised to look at Jungkook. The sight of your face once again caught him off guard, the lack of makeup revealing a different side of you. 

You no longer looked young. Without the innocent look that had been created with the blushes and the eyeliners and the lip glosses, Jungkook could see the mature shape of your eyes and the defined look of your features. You looked your age now, a lot more maturity prominent in your appearance. 

You were pretty. Jungkook could admit that much now that you didn’t resemble a teenager. He wondered why you had done your makeup like that in the first place. He’d been to many weddings before and none of the brides had been made to look so young. Then again, Taehyung had already told him that, on top of looking innocent and naive, you seemed to dress the part as well. 

“Is something wrong?” Your soft voice asked, eyes blinking innocently up at him. 

Jungkook shook his head, motioning for the maid to leave the room. She gave you both a low bow before scurrying out the doorway, making sure to close the door behind her. 

“No,” he finally answered. For the first time in a long time he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. He wasn’t sure if you were expecting anything to happen tonight, or if you even wanted anything to happen for now. 

His gaze lowered as he mulled over his next actions. You had changed out of your wedding dress into a light pink, mesh lace nightgown that came all the way down to your knees with a silk bow stitched into the centre of your chest, as if your clothes were meant to compensate for the lack of makeup dolling up your features. He almost wanted to raise an eyebrow at you, but you seemed much too fragile to be ridiculed. 

Alternatively, he decided to take an experimental step in your direction, surveying your reaction closely. He watched your fingers close tighter around the duvet on which you sat, your gaze hesitantly darting everywhere but him. That was answer enough for him to know how far you were ready to take it tonight. So instead, he passed the bed, opting instead to drop onto the couch on the far end of the room. While he was facing you, you had to turn your head to keep him in your sights. 

“What would you like to do now?” He asked you, resting an arm over the back of the couch while he crossed an ankle over his knee. 

Your gaze dropped to your lap, watching your fingers fidget against each other nervously. It was almost as if having to answer a question like that had you stressed, which again made Jungkook wonder how you had survived growing up in a mafia family. How could you have been this weak?

“I-I don’t know,” you squeaked, not able to meet his gaze. 

Jungkook sighed, turning his head to the side to survey the room. Technically, the two of you could just call it a night and go to sleep. You were clearly too shy to even speak a word to him, and Jungkook had never been one to beg others for things. Only time would tell how well the two of you would get to know each other. 

But then Jungkook’s gaze dropped to the coffee table in front of him, noticing some sort of gift basket placed in its centre. It was obviously a wedding gift, filled with chocolates, scented candles, roses… and some wine and champagne. Jungkook has always been more of a whiskey guy, but right now he’d take just about anything. 

“Why don’t we have a drink?” He suggested, uncrossing his leg so that he could lean forward and grab the top of the expensive-looking bottle of red wine. He prayed you weren’t one of those people that didn’t drink, your innocent personality couldn’t possibly extend all the way to drinking as well. 

You paused for a moment, taking in the bottle in Jungkook’s hand, before slowly nodding your head, to Jungkook’s relief. 

He beckoned you over with his free hand, “come here.”

You hesitated before slowly pushing yourself off the bed and took small steps towards him. Jungkook waited patiently until you were standing right in front of the couch, hands clasped shyly in front of you while your gaze stayed glued to the floor. He held up the bottle of wine and champagne in front of you, hoping you weren’t so dumb that you wouldn’t understand the question in his actions. Thankfully you studied the two bottles before a shaky hand raised and tapped against the bottle of champagne. 

He pushed the bottle in your direction, forcing you to take it in your own hands, before standing up from the couch. The unexpected action seemed to scare you, causing you to immediately take a timid step backwards while you hugged the bottle to your chest. Jungkook had to suppress a tired, and maybe even slightly annoyed sigh, as he manoeuvred past you. He was trying to be patient, but this was becoming ridiculous. 

“You get that open while I wash up,” he said to you, pointing at the bottle still pressed to your chest, “okay?”

You nodded slowly, allowing him to turn away from you and walk into the joint bathroom. Once the door was closed behind him he let out the sigh he had suppressed earlier. You really were… something. He couldn’t believe he had been suspicious of you earlier when you could barely even function properly, much less be any sort of threat. It was irritating, Jungkook felt, to have someone so incompetent for a wife. He wondered if he would have to break you out of that shell. You were the wife of a mafia leader now after all, you had to keep up at least some air of confidence in the presence of others so that you didn’t make him look weak. 

Jungkook walked over to the sink and turned it on, splashing some cold water on his face before he began brushing his teeth. You were far from his ideal type, and he doubted this marriage would ever stem into whatever Taehyung and Chaewon had going on. Hell, he was wondering how the two of you could ever even produce an heir. You’d probably spontaneously combust if he even tried to touch you. And besides, he didn’t really want to touch you if he was being honest. You reminded him too much of a weak and helpless child, which was obviously a huge turn off. He may have been a mafia leader, but he wasn’t a complete monster. 

Jungkook placed his toothbrush into the holder after spitting into the sink, drying himself off with one of the towels hanging near him. He was about to start changing into more comfortable clothes, only getting as far as unbuttoning the first few buttons of his black collar shirt, before a crashing sound rang from the bedroom. In less than a second he had pushed out of the bathroom, immediately scanning the bedroom before him as his hand automatically sought out the gun at his side. 

It took him a moment to realise the lack of intruders in the room, and then another to take in your completely unharmed form. You were standing with your hands covering your mouth, looking down at the ground. Jungkook followed your gaze to find the champagne bottle rolling along the marble floor, still entirely intact. You had clearly dropped the thing accidentally, causing Jungkook to place his gun back in his waistband.

“I’m s-so sorry,” you squeaked, bending down quickly to pick up the bottle. Suppressing a huff, Jungkook walked over to you to take it from your hands. 

“Here, let me do it,” he said, taking two of the crystal champagne flutes from the gift basket and placing them on the glass coffee table as he sat himself down on the couch, distantly annoyed at the fact that you couldn’t even pour a glass of champagne by yourself. Was this seriously what he was going to have to deal with from now on?

He tipped the bottle, filling both glasses to the brim with the bubbling liquid as you hesitantly sat yourself down on the couch to his left. His gaze fell on you as he was about to offer you one of the flutes, but paused when he noticed the look on your face. For the first time since he met you, you looked almost… excited. Usually your eyes would be downturned and focused on the floor, but this time they were fixed on the crystal glasses before you as if you were eager to taste the expensive liquid. Jungkook made a note of it, tucking it into the back of his mind for later. 

“Take one,” he said as he motioned towards one of the glasses, but to his surprise you hesitantly shook your head. Your expression had turned timid once again, any hint of excitement from earlier entirely gone. He narrowed his eyes at you as he wondered if he had just imagined it. It had barely been there anyway. 

“I don��t drink,” you said in your signature soft tone, not able to meet his gaze. Of course you don’t, Jungkook thought irritatedly, god forbid the princess touch a glass of champagne. He knew the thought was immature, but there was no way he was the most immature person in the room at the moment. 

He pushed himself off the couch, very much aware that his patience was starting to wear thin, “well then I guess we should call it a night.”

But before he could step towards the bed, your hand shot out, clutching the edge of his sleeve with your fingers. He immediately looked down at your still seated form, a question in his eyes. You had to look away for a moment, seemingly collecting your nerves, before you met his gaze once again. 

“Just because I don’t drink doesn’t mean you can’t,” you said, “I don’t want you not to enjoy yourself because of me. Please stay.”

Jungkook noticed the evident guilt in your eyes as your fingers continued to stay enclosed around the edge of his sleeve. When he didn’t move, you hesitantly leaned forward to gently pick up one of the glasses and then slowly presented it to him. His gaze shifted to the glass in your hand, pausing for only a moment, before he took it from you. He let himself sink back onto the couch as he studied you. 

You continued to sit in your spot on the sofa, posture still timid. Your gaze bounced from one part of the floor to the next, while your expression remained shy. But there was something else lurking behind the expression. If Jungkook focused well enough, he could have sworn the edges of your lips were turned slightly upwards. It was so faint that it might have not even been there, but the more he focused, the more prominent it became to him. 

A naive part of him might have thought it was from being successful in getting him to stay and have the drink, but the more logical part of him had already latched onto an idea, one that refused to be swept to the side any longer. 

His gaze lowered to your collarbone, a glint from the heart-shaped necklace resting over your soft skin catching his attention. Unlike earlier, he noticed that the metal heart was actually a locket, and that its two sides were slightly open. It couldn’t have been ajar by more than a millimetre, but Jungkook still noted it down in his mind.

His gaze then ascended to your face, still a perfect picture of innocence. Your eyes were widened to resemble a curious doe, while your lips were pulled into a timid line. The hands resting in your lap fumbled with each other shyly, really completing the look. 

Finally, his gaze dropped to the drink in his hand. He brought it closer to his face, as if he were about to take a sip, before eyeing the expensive liquid. His gaze fixed on the miniscule bubbles that continued travelled from the bottom of the flute to its surface, causing it to sizzle.

Jungkook slowly leaned forward, keeping his eye on his drink as he brought it away from his lips and instead calmly set it down on the coffee table before him. He then easily pushed himself off of the couch, which caused your brows to jump. There was an apparent question in your expression, one you decided to voice out loud. 

“Is something wrong with the drink?” You asked, voice still soft as your doe eyes looked up at him through your lashes. 

Ignoring the question, Jungkook placed a hand on the edge of the coffee table and slowly pushed it forward so that it was farther away from your seated form. The action caused you to blink. 

“Is everything okay?” You tried again slowly.

But Jungkook then faced you, assessing you for a moment, before he took a few steps in your direction. You had to crane your neck upwards to continue meeting his gaze, his tall form towering over your seated one. This time your brows pulled together, eyes still doe-like, as you continued to question his actions. 

“Jungko-”

Jungkook didn’t let you finish. The second you opened your mouth his large hand suddenly shot out and grabbed your neck, slamming your head into the seat of the couch. You squeaked at the sudden violence, immediately clawing at the fingers now enclosed around your throat. But your efforts were nothing in comparison to Jungkook’s iron hold. 

“J-Jungkook, you’re h-hurting me!” You let out a choked cry, continuing to put up a weak fight against Jungkook. Tears had already started to coat your eyes and run down your cheeks, but Jungkook ignored them completely. He watched you struggle, fascinated by the way you thrashed around like an animal yet every jab at him was weak and ineffective. There was no sign of the strength he had noticed when you had grabbed onto his bicep earlier, so hard that he was sure it would leave a bruise. It was enough to make him grin.

Jungkook lowered his face so that his lips neared your ear, his body still hovering over your smaller form. 

“If you wanted to kill me princess, you’ll have to do a better job than that,” he said, voice low. Your eyes widened even further as you continued to struggle against him, making pitiful noises that didn’t move him in the slightest. 

“K-Kill?! What are y-you talking about?!” You continued to choke out as tears streamed down your cheeks. Your hands had moved to his chest, desperately trying to push him away, yet failing miserably in the process. Jungkook tilted his head at your weak plea, eager to hear what other ways you’d beg him to let you go.

 “P-please-” You began, but then cut yourself off abruptly when your tear-filled gaze met his. You must have seen something in his eyes, because he felt your body slacken, no longer desperate to fight him despite his hold on your neck cutting off your lung’s supply of air. 

Instead you studied him, really studied him. He could see the same calculated look you had used on Taehyung earlier during the wedding. It was as if you were assessing Jungkook, picking out his strengths and weaknesses to figure out how you could use them to your advantage. He watched you weigh options in your head patiently before you finally tilted your head to the side calmly and shot him a look. In response, Jungkook decided to loosen his grip on your throat. He watched you catch your breath for a moment before you spoke. 

“Well, you’re already smarter than the first one,” you commented, but your voice was entirely different. It was no longer soft and timid, rather it was a lot more deep and confident. He watched your expression change in the same manner. Your once wide and innocent looking eyes narrowed into a more matured look, while your lips straightened into more of a dangerously amused grin than a naive pout. 

Then he processed your words. The ‘first one’ had to be your first husband, who Taehyung had explained had been killed on his wedding day. Taehyung had mentioned that a rival gang had been the one to murder him, but the actual one responsible for his death was clear to Jungkook now. 

“Do you make it a hobby to poison your husbands’ drinks on their wedding nights?” He asked, hand still wrapped around your throat. He had situated himself between your legs, his own leg pushing one of yours against the back of the couch while his free hand pushed the other down against the seat of the couch. The position ensured you wouldn’t be able to kick him, while his body hovering over your own seemed to take care of the rest of you. You were smart enough not to try anything anyway, knowing Jungkook’s strength was incomparable to yours.

You shrugged, panting at the limited oxygen entering your lungs, “golf just wasn’t cutting it for me anymore.”

“Golf? How can a weak and helpless girl like you play such a sport?” Jungkook couldn’t help but quip, bordering on mocking you. It only made you grin, clearly no hint of offence in your expression. 

He studied your nonchalant demeanour curiously. You had tried to kill him, and he should send your head back to your father’s doorstep for it. And yet, you couldn’t have looked any less composed with his hand around your neck. Either you were a complete idiot, which seemed much less likely now that he was starting to see your real character, or you believed you had the upper hand in this situation. 

“You’re quite calm for someone I should have killed,” he noted, meaning for it to be a threat. But once again you didn’t seem deterred. In fact, the comment seemed to amuse you even more. 

“Just because you should have me killed doesn’t mean you’ll actually have me killed.”

Jungkook’s brow raised, finding an opportunity to prod you further, “and why won’t I have you killed? Your father sent you here to kill me under the pretence of an alliance. I should start a war for this.”

You nodded, “but you see, my father did send me here to form an alliance. The whole killing you idea was all mine.”

Jungkook scoffed at the lame attempt at a lie, “you expect me to believe that?”

But you scoffed as well, meeting his gaze just as vehemently. It was an odd sight considering you had spent the entire day trying to make yourself small and avoiding his gaze. Yet here you were now, eyes ablaze like a thrashing fire. Not a spontaneously violent fire either, no Jungkook could very easily handle that. You were more like an electrical fire. It was becoming increasingly apparent that he had to be cautious around you, and that trusting any word that came out of your mouth was dangerous. 

“Prove it then,” he challenged, tightening his hold on your neck for a moment to remind you of your vulnerability. 

“I don’t need to prove anything,” you said, a hand coming up to wrap around his wrist, “just go ahead and mention to my father that I’m not a complete airhead that’s afraid of her own shadow. He’ll laugh in your face and call you a moron.”

The revelation that your father was just as clueless about your true self as everyone else only confirmed his initial thoughts. It also proved he couldn’t have trusted you to carry out an assassination attempt, meaning your father really did genuinely want an alliance with the Jeons. That was perfect, because Jungkook had certain plans that relied on this partnership. It was a relief that they hadn’t gone to waste.

“If it wasn’t your father’s idea, then why did you poison my drink?” He asked with a raised brow. 

Silence filled the room following his question, one that allowed you both to hear the sounds of the wall clock. He got the feeling that you were contemplating something once again, planning out your next move.

Then you squirmed underneath him, seemingly getting comfortable, but Jungkook knew better than to believe whatever you appeared as. The second your hand went for the gun wedged in his waistband, he grabbed your wrist, pining it against the couch, while the hand that had been around your throat pulled out the matte black weapon. He slowly brought it to your temple with an amused grin.

“If you wanted it so badly, you could have just asked,” he taunted, bringing the gun down so that its barrel lifted your chin, “now, I asked a question princess.”

You huffed, your amusement finally falling to give him a half-hearted glare.

“I want a divorce.”

Jungkook couldn’t help the laugh that sounded from his lips at your straightforwardness. You just tried to kill him, it didn’t take a genius to work out that you weren’t a fan of this marriage and wanted out of it. 

It was an arranged marriage after all, and even though all arranged marriages didn’t equal a forced marriage, technically he couldn’t be certain that this marriage was of your own choice or not. For all he knew, you had some secret lover waiting for you back home, your marriage with Jungkook coming between the star crossed romance. The thought made his jaw tick. He was far from in love with you, but Jungkook tended to be territorial about what was his. And you were his wife at the moment. 

You, on the other hand, seemed surprised by his reaction, as if it was the last thing you expected him to do.

“I mean you obviously want one now too, right?” You asked with your brows furrowed.

Jungkook didn’t respond, and that only seemed to make you more agitated.

“I’m not the wife that you want. You clearly can’t stand me when I have my ditzy front pulled up and you can’t trust me when I don’t.”

Although the points that you were making were true, there was one important factor you were missing, and that was the alliance between the Jeons and the Lees. Jungkook needed this alliance to, at the very least make himself seem like, he was more powerful than the Parks and the Mins. And with their recent moves -with what he saw at the docks just last night- he needed this alliance now more than ever. So while he normally would have had you executed and then sent your head to your father’s doorstep for your little assassination attempt, this time he was going to have to sweep his pride to the side.

Jungkook placed his free hand next to your head as he pushed himself up, choosing instead to stay standing in front of the sofa. His intense gaze dropped to your still form while his gun hung from his fingers firmly. 

“No,” he finally said, causing your brows to jump. 

You quickly pushed yourself off the couch to stand just as he was, but Jungkook didn’t move. With the sofa right behind you, barring you from taking a few steps back, that left you and him standing dangerously close to each other. The bow from your nightgown pressed against his partly unbuttoned black collar shirt, while its edge grazed his dress pants. Jungkook could feel the heat of your breath raise goosebumps from his exposed collarbone. 

“Why not? I’m not the wife that you want.”

He smiled at the bite in your words, finding your frustration amusing, “you’ve got it all wrong. I simply wanted a wife to make the Lees allies, nothing more.”

Like a fire set alight, your eyes flashed in anger, “I won’t change. I’ll still be your idiot wife that will make you look weak.”

It was true that most wives of mafia leaders were strong and confident beings, symbols of their husbands’ power, and that having a wife like you may be a slightly risky choice. But Jungkook was sure his carefully established reputation could take the hit. Besides, although you might make him look weak, your marriage with him would make him far from actually weak. 

“You think divorcing you won’t make me look weak?” Jungkook decided to say, unsure of if he was saying it to play with you more or to make sure you don’t believe your threats are inconveniencing him, “you’ve fooled everyone with your ditzy facade. A divorce will make them think I wasn’t able to tame a naive girl. You think people will accept me as a leader then?”

You didn’t react to the point, giving him the feeling that you might have already known that might pose an issue for him. Perhaps you thought his reputation could take the hit? When Jungkook really thought about it, it probably could have. He’d worked hard to be both feared and respected for years, a divorce like this, while questionable in the eyes of the people under him, could have been pushed under the rug given time. But the alliance was too important to him. 

And that was something he needed to make sure you knew. 

“That means you will continue to be my wife,” he settled, lowering his gaze so that it met yours with unwavering finality, “so you’ll continue to act like it.”

Jungkook felt his voice naturally lower, a hint of a threat evident in his tone, “listen to me well, Y/N. I don’t care if you act like the dumbest woman on Earth or the most sultry. Regardless, what you will act like is my wife. When we’re outside of this bedroom, we will laugh together, we will hug each other, and we will do whatever other damn thing married couples do so that no one doubts this relationship.”

“And if I don’t?” You bit, the speed of your reply making his jaw tick. 

“If you don’t, you can stay locked in this bedroom until you learn how to behave. Understood?”

Your rage couldn’t have been more prominent, with a fierce glare burning right through him and a pair of fisted hands at your sides. Yet Jungkook ignored it all, instead meeting your gaze coolly as he waited for your confirmation. 

It took a long moment to come, so long that Jungkook thought it wasn’t going to come at all. But eventually he noticed you nod your head. It was barely a movement, your head tipping down slightly before resuming its earlier place, but it was enough for him despite your unwavering glare. 

He finally took a few steps back, thrusting the barrel of his gun once again into the waistband of his pants. Your angry form, on the other hand, didn’t move, opting instead to stand perfectly still despite your calves pressing into the sofa behind you. Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, brushing the strands that had fallen onto his forehead away from his face.

“Good, then we’re done here.”

He finally turned away from you, eyeing the door on his left intently. But before he could move towards it, your words made him pause.

“I just tried to kill you,” you commented before he turned to question its randomness. He found you sitting on the sofa once again, an eerily thoughtful look lurking behind your rage-filled eyes, “how will you know I won’t do it again?”

Jungkook tilted his head in response. 

“You can try all you want, princess,” he said, liking the feeling of that nickname on his tongue more and more. It was almost addicting, “but you won’t succeed.”

Then his lips curled into a sly smirk, “after all, what kind of husband would I be if I barred my wife from her hobbies?”

He was able to just barely catch the roll of your eyes before he turned and pushed through the door he had been eyeing earlier, his hands automatically locking it behind him as he casually surveyed his office. The room had been spared from the new gleaming white and fawn furniture which had taken over his bedroom. Instead, it was filled with familiar dark brown.

Refined dark oak wood shelves and cabinets lined the walls except for the wall behind his large desk, which was made up entirely of a bookshelf filled to the brim with various hardcovers. For the sake of matching with the rest of the house, the marble floor had been done a light fawn colour, while another wall was made up of bulletproof glass, its centre having the ability to slide open to reveal a decent sized balcony. 

Jungkook shrugged off his blazer as he made his way to his desk, laying the piece of cloth over the back of his black leather chair, before he opened the glass cabinet behind it. He didn’t need to think much as his fingers expertly curled around an expensive bottle of whiskey and a crystal glass. Before he knew it, he found himself standing outside on his balcony overlooking his estate, one hand holding the crystal glass filled halfway with light brown liquid while the other clutched the iron railing. 

His gaze bounced around his estate for a peaceful moment as he took a sip from his glass, taking in the expanse of the luscious green field bordering the neatly done driveway despite the darkness of the night. In its centre was an intricately designed white fountain spewing water in four different directions, but all of which emptied systematically into the white basin at its base. The estate itself stretched for metres, the gates enclosing the space barely visible from where he was standing. Jungkook’s thoughts bounced around his head just as quickly as his gaze. 

What a day it had been. At first, you’d been a complete idiot, one that had irritated him to no extent with your doe eyes and evident shyness. 

But then you had turned out to be an entirely different species, far from the innocent and ditzy girl he’d labelled you as. You were cunning and feisty and seemingly very much ready for a divorce. 

Jungkook felt the corners of his lips pull upwards into a grin as he took another sip of his whisky.

You were quite the enigma.

But he was going to enjoy the challenge.  

A/N: comments, reblogs, and likes are appreciated!

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Teacher's Pet (Agatha Harkness x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Professor Harkness takes on so few students. You're determined to become on. A non-magic AU with professor!Agatha.

Words: 7.4k

Warnings: Praise kink, possessiveness, obsessiveness, drinking, teacher/student relationship, age gap (but all over 18+), smut, fingering (R receiving), oral sex (R receiving), biting, Dom!Agatha, sub!R, power imbalance, unhealthy dynamics

You’d heard the whispers around campus about Professor Harkness’s class. The rumours were passed around like a ghost story told under the cover of night at camp. You stored them, collected each one like a gem, richer for every word you were gifted by the rumour mill. Drunk students would try one up one another at house parties, wanting to share the worst of her and win the competition.

You were fascinated with the legend of her before you ever laid eyes on her.

It was at a faculty party, your history professor extending an invitation to all of his most promising students. You’d shown up, expecting nothing but other old men, ruing the day the students grew so rowdy, passing around stories about their own college days when they showed far more respect to their professors than your lot ever did.

Instead, you’d found her, nursing a glass of red wine in the library, a heavy book open in her palm. She glanced up, piercing blue eyes settling on you with disinterest, and yet you felt like you’d been struck by lightning. You took a deep breath as her eyes left you, going back to the book in her hand, and made your way further into the room.

Your finger trailed over the spines of the book, most leather bound and weighty, older than the mess of paperbacks in your dorm room. Scanning the titles, you realised each one was on World War I. You wrinkled your nose, continuing on.

You knew you should have been trying to network with some of the most eminent professors in the history department, but now you were finding it hard to break free from the woman’s gravity. So you stayed, looking over the books, trying to find something that would suggest your professor wasn’t as boring as you suspected he was. And if you kept sneaking glances at the other woman, then it was an added bonus to your evening. Dark hair and pale skin, red lips curling up at the corner, dressed in clothes that must have cost more than your entire wardrobe combined, she was the most wonderful thing to look at in that room.

She did not pay you any attention.

“Ah, there you are.”

You glanced up, your professor swaggering through the door, a glass of scotch dangling from his fingertips. In the corner of your eye, you saw the woman tilt her head in his direction.

“Oh good. I’m so glad the two of you found each other,” he said.

You looked over at the woman, finding her staring down your professor with a look of absolute disdain. Clasping your hands in front of oyur body, you waited for some kind of explanation. Your professor drew closer, the bounce in his step seemingly suggesting he hadn’t noticed the way the woman was looking at him.

“Agatha, let me introduce you to my best student.”

He scooped you up on his way, the hand on the small of your back directing you towards her. You’d done your best to keep your distance from her, not sure she’d appreciate you interrupting her. Now, propelled towards her, a sense of anticipation mixed with anxiety curdled in your stomach into something you didn’t like.

When he said your name, those blue eyes focused on you. You wouldn’t say there was interest there, but it certainly was something more than the disdain she’d shown him.

“Agatha’s interests lie more in historical folklore surrounding witchcraft,” he told you.

“Oh,” you said, “I was hoping to look at that for my senior thesis.”

“Agatha Harkness,” she said, eyebrow raising, holding a hand out to you.

You grasped it in yours, her warm skin soft where it met your palm. It was like an electric shock went through you from her touch while you tried to fit this view of a woman with the figure of legend you’d been collecting stories on for the last few years at college.

“Don’t you go trying to poach my best student, Agatha,” you professor tutted, “I’m still trying to convince her to instead look at something more modern and practical.”

“You believe another World War I scholar is practical?” she asked, the drawl of her voice letting you know exactly what she thought of that opinion.

“I would say there’s more need for them in the workforce than witches,” he replied, still good-naturedly, but his gaze had hardened.

“We should talk,” she said to you, turning her head back to you, blocking your professor out of the conversation.

“I’d like that,” you said, knowing you sounded breathless and probably too eager, but you weren’t about to miss this opportunity.

She finally let your hand go, fingers stroking softly along the length of your palm. Your lips parted and for just a moment her gaze lingered there before looking back to your professor.

“You may go now,” she told him, not bothering to keep it behind the cover of polite respectability.

He sputtered out some argument. She rolled her eye, placing a hand on the small of your back, so different from when his hand had been there, and led you out of the door. Eyes followed the two of you, most focused on her, a ripple of something going through the rest of the party. She pushed the front door open, leading you into the cool air of the night.

“So,” she said, leaning back against the railing of the porch, “you’re interested in witchcraft, are you?”

“Yes,” you replied, softly, almost embarrassed, and yet certain in your conviction.

“You should know that oaf is taking such an interest in you because you’re such a pretty young thing,” she said, “his last favourite is now positioned somewhere nice like Yale or Cambridge and he keeps taking the credit for putting her there.”

“I have no interest in World War I,” you said, hoping that was answer enough.

“Clever girl.”

The thrill of her praise would sustain you long after the party was over.

“If you’re serious about pursuing witchcraft for your senior thesis, come by my office tomorrow morning with a proposal,” she said.

She maintained eye contact as she took a long sip from her wine, her lipstick leaving a mark on the glass. You couldn’t stop yourself watching her, already under her spell. She passed the glass to you, half drunk, and turned to walked down the steps.

“Don’t disappoint me,” she called over her shoulder before disappearing in the night.

You drained the last of the wine from her glass and left it there on the wooden floor of the porch. You returned home without bothering to take your leave of your professor, knowing he wouldn’t matter by that time tomorrow. You were going to give her the best proposal she’d ever seen, of that you were determined.

She agreed to oversee your senior thesis on historical folklore of witchcraft.

You learnt very quickly that Professor Harness’s demanding nature wasn’t an overblown rumour. She expected excellence from you. Late nights and early mornings, you spent so much time with you nose in your books the outside world stopped feeling real. Your fingers had grown ink stained and your eyes ached from the strain of reading such small type.

Every meeting, she sent you home with a new stack of books, expecting you to be there again in a few days having read them all, ready to discuss every little detail in her office for hours on end. She took up most of your waking hours, and when you did manage to snatch some sleep, she haunted your dreams.

You hadn’t gotten over the way lightning had struck at your first meeting.

Her office had turned into a sanctuary for you. You’d rush in, an armful of books almost tumbling to the floor before you threw them down into one of her chairs and curling up on the sofa she kept flush to the wall under the window. Some days you were there from the moment she arrived until long after the sun set, just reading and taking notes.

The office itself was warm, sometimes overly so, the sun coming through the window at just the right angle to heat the air. Her desk was large, imposing, the perfect symbol for the woman who had become legend around campus. Bookshelves were overflowing with all kinds of books. Cheap paperbacks, hardcovers, leather-bound, in pristine condition and falling apart. Some she’d let you pour over but leave behind at the end of the night, others she sent you off with. All you knew was you wanted the chance to read every single one.

Sharing the space with her was just as nerve inducing as it was the first time. You became so aware of yourself, wanting to impress her. When she’d sit beside you, the sofa cushions dipping until you felt yourself slip towards her, you’d grow so still, trying to not touch her, scared of what that would do to you. Sometimes, she lent forward to look at the page you were reading and her dark hair would brush your skin.

There were times when you thought she might know what you were thinking. The way you felt out of control around her. Your need to impress her. Her gaze would linger just a fraction of a moment longer than was appropriate, assessing every inch of you. Sometimes her fingertips would graze over the skin of your cheek, or she’d grasp your chin, or she’d gently move your hair out of your face. Hours spent together, and you could never tell how she felt about you or your work.

It only made you try harder.

It wasn’t until two months in that your friends decided to take matters into their own hands. You’d just returned from a full day studying in her office when a knock sounded on your door. Stifling a yawn, you pulled the door open.

“Oh, so you are still alive,” you friend said, shoving past you into your tiny dorm room.

“Hello to you too,” you said.

“There’s a party tonight. You’re coming. Don’t even bother arguing. No one has seen you since you started studying with the witch,” she said, picking up a banana on your desk that had begun to turn brown, “seriously, does she keep you chained up or something?”

You weren’t about to dignify that with an answer. Not that the thought of being bound by Professor Harkness was one that you hated. It just wasn’t worth the time explaining that.

“I have so much work I still need to do,” you said.

“You’ve been working too hard. Come on, it’ll be fun. You still remember what fun is like, right?”

In the end, you let her drag you to the party after raiding your wardrobe for something more party appropriate. Standing, clutching the red solo cup full of something that burnt as it went down, you watched the game of ping pong going on.

“I’d be terrified if I had to spend all that time with her,” some guy was saying to you.

“She’s not that scary,” you said, already regretting your decision to come.

“Nah. I heard she made some guy piss himself with just a look,” he said, swaying closer to you.

“She’s not like that,” you said, shaking your head, “sounds like that guy just has poor bladder control.”

“Ha, you’re funny,” he said, leaning closer until his sour breath washed over your face, “wanna come upstairs so you can tell me what she’s really like?”

“No thank you,” you said, shoving him away form you.

“Whatever,” he spat, “frigid bitch.”

“So what’s she actually like?” your friend said, taking the drunk guy’s place when he swung away from you.

“Quiet, exacting, demanding,” you replied, “she expects excellence.”

“Sounds exhausting,” she said.

“No, no, it’s great. I love it. She’s… great,” you said, looking down into your cup, swirling the liquid in it, “she’s kind of brilliant.”

“Careful. You sound like you’re in love with her,” your friend laughed.

“Don’t be stupid,” you snapped.

“Maybe she’s done a spell on you. You know everyone says she’s an actual witch? She’s certainly mean enough,” she said.

“She’s not,” you snapped, “seriously, all those rumours are made up by sad little people who feel inferior whenever they see a smart woman because they know they can’t ever live up to her.”

“She growled like a dog at some guy who cut her off as she was walking,” she said.

“People make up such stupid lies,” you said.

“Someone has video of her insulting some students. It went viral on TikTok,” she said.

“They probably deserved it. She has standards,” you said.

“I’m just saying, be careful with her. Maybe she’s trying to recruit you to her coven, or maybe she’s hoping to sacrifice you in some ritual to get more power,” she said.

“Shut up,” you snapped.

Downing the last of your drink, you crumpled the cup and flung it aside.

“I’m going home. I have too much work to be getting on with for this,” you said.

“Hey, no, come on. I’ll stop talking about her,” she said.

You shook her hand off you.

“I’ll see you around.”

You ignored her as she shouted after you, letting yourself out through the back gate. Curling your arms around your body, you strode off down the sidewalk. The night air held a chill to it, the slow drip of autumn beginning to give way to winter. You tipped your head back to look at the night sky, so dark, the moon just beginning to wax.

You let your feet lead you back towards your dorm building, wandering through the night and the shadows. The air was crisp in your lungs and you let yourself breath in deeply. You should have been home, reading up on the intersect of witch trails with gynophobia in the Renaissance, but instead you had wasted time on a bunch of drunk idiots for nothing.

“You’re out late.”

You startled, whirling around, heart thumping in your chest. Stepping out of the shadows, hands in her pockets, Professor Harkness looked like the devil come to collect your soul. You’d give it willingly if only she asked for it.

“I was at a party,” you said.

“You should be careful,” she said, taking slow steps towards you, “pretty young thing like you all alone at night. Anything could happen.”

The way she smiled made you feel as if she was the wolf and you the sheep, the prey to her predator. You were desperate to let her sink her teeth deeply into you.

“Nothing that interesting happens to me,” you said, voice quiet.

“Come, pet,” she said, hand landing on the small of your back, “I’ll walk you home. Can’t have something happen to you. I’ll feel so much guilt.”

You let her lead you back towards campus, the bright lights beckoning you home. You didn’t ask how she knew where to take you, so focused on the feeling of her hand splayed over your back, the warmth of her skin seeping through your thin shirt and into your skin.

“I suppose I’ve forgotten what it is to be young. I assumed you’d be curled up in bed, reading the texts I gave you,” she said, “of course you’d be out on a Friday night at a party.”

“My friend dragged me with her. Apparently I’ve been missing in action since I started working with you. She said I needed to have fun,” you said.

“I thought we were having fun,” she said, voice a low rumbled against your ear.

“We are. I am,” you said, so quick it brought a smirk to her lips when you turned your face towards her, “I shouldn’t have gone tonight. It was a waste of time.”

“Have you been drinking?” she asked. When you didn’t answer, she lent closer, “I won’t tell anyone if you have.”

“I’m over 21,” you whispered.

“Such a grown up girl,” she said, “I can smell the cheap vodka on you.”

She paused in front of your dorm building, warm light spilling out the entrance. Both hands came up to cup your cheeks, calloused skin scraping against yours, thumb brushing over your cheekbone. She lent forward again, right into your personal space. Her fingertips stroked over your soft skin as she pulled them away before her index finger gently tugged on your lower lip.

“Sweet dreams, kitten,” she whispered before disappearing back into the shadows of the night. If not for your racing heart you might have thought you’d hallucinated the entire thing.

She didn’t mention it when you slunk into her office on Monday, passing you a cup of coffee without a single word, but a raised eyebrow. You took it with grace, curling up on her sofa, opening the book in your lap. When she settled beside you, feet kicked up on her coffee table, you didn’t even look at her out of the corner of your eyes.

Her fingers were soft as they brushed your hair over your shoulder, gently tucking it behind your ear. Lingering on the curve of your jaw, you shivered, dragging your gaze over to her. The corner of her lips pulled up for a fleeting moment.

“Tell me your thoughts.”

You did, the words spilling over your words like secrets, softly spoken in the confessional of her office. You lent back, watching you, legs spread, interest in her blue eyes. Her finger ran along the length of her lip, intent as she watched you talk yourself out. Once you were done, her hand came to cradle the back of your head, nails scraping over your scalp.

“It appears as if your weekend wasn’t totally wasted,” she said.

“No,” you said.

“Good.” Her lips pressed together to repress her smile, “keep reading.”

Her long fingers tapped the book in your lap and she left you alone to your reading. You snuck a glance at her before bowing your head and trying not to think about what this meant.

Nor the way you yearned for more.

From that day, you noticed a change. Her hands would linger on you, her touch growing familiar and yet no less exciting. You stayed later and later, curling up on her sofa, growing comfortable as you waded through history with her. She guided you, shaping your research into something you could be proud of as you poured over books and wrote long paragraphs for her to read. Shared meals and shared drinks, you’d sit on the floor of her office, take out containers scattered over the coffee table. You shrunk further away from your friends, finding their conversations inane and childish, drunken antics no longer fun but puerile as you worked on something far more important. You lost yourself in that room, an addict who needed their fix every day or else you were given over to malaise.

She indulged your need for her attention, her open door policy lasting 24 hours a day. She seemed to enjoy how much you wanted to share the same air as her. Every time you said something, your eyes would turn to her, desperate for her approval which she freely gave. You spent time watching the way her fingers traced over words on the page in front of you, trying not to think about how much you wanted her to do the same thing across your bare skin. Her praise became greater, more frequent, each one hard won for, and each one treasured like the most precious of gifts, hoarding them to revisit every night before you fell asleep.

You hadn’t realised how comfortable you’d grown in her presence until the afternoon you realised you’d fallen asleep on the sofa as you tried to craft the perfect sentence. Your eyelashes fluttered and you were slow to blink your eyes open. Draped in a soft blanket, the warm air heated from the small space heater Professor Harkness had dragged into the office, you glanced around the room. It was darker than you’d remembered, the window showing a night sky while the lamps offered a soft refuge against the dark.

Something tightened around your ankle. You turned your attention towards it. Professor Harkness was sitting on the other end of the sofa, your bare feet resting in her lap. The book in her hand was left unattended as she stared down at you, a confusing expression on her face. Her grip on your ankle tightened again and you offered a lazy smile.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to drop off,” you said, voice rough with sleep.

“I’ve been wearing you out,” she said.

With the softness of sleep making it difficult to school your features, your cheeks heated at the implication. Not that you would have minded. In fact, you wished that was the reason you were so tired.

Her finger trailed along the arch of your foot. You shifted, the touch a tickle. She did it again, smiling down at you before she let you go.

“Sleep, if you have to. You’re no use to me if you’re too tired to function,” she said.

“No, no, I’m okay,” you said, sitting up, the blanket pooling around you.

The thought that she’d placed it over you for your comfort made your head spin. To then sit by you, to welcome any part of you into her personal space as you slept was even worse. Your chest ached and your heart clenched and you wanted to crawl into her lap.

“Perhaps you’re right. We should take a break. I’ve been working you too hard,” she said.

You would let her work you harder if it meant more moments like this.

“Come, pet. I’m taking you to dinner.”

You were helpless as you followed her. She drove, the car feeling so close with the dark night pressing in against the windows. You tried not to watch her, the hands you’d been fantasising about controlling the machine with such power.

The restaurant was nice. Intimate. Small tables and soft lamps offering pools of light, plenty of shadows to hide in. The maître d' seemed to recognise her, leading her to a table at the back. You lowered into your seat, taking note of the candle on the table between the two of you. The entire thing felt like a dream.

“Um, I’m not sure I can afford this place,” you said.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, waving off your worry, “I’m paying.”

“Oh.” You clasped your hands in your lap, “thank you, Professor.”

“Why do you always call me that?” she asked.

“Call you what?” you asked.

“Professor,” she replied, “I have a name.”

“Sorry. Do you not like it? I was trying to be respectful,” you said, anxiety taking hold of you.

“Agatha is fine,” she said.

“Okay,” you replied, “Agatha.”

Her smile was self satisfied and she lent back in her chair, eyes sweeping over you. You let her drink her fill of you, not sure what she was looking for, but wanting to give it to her. You’d give her anything she asked for.

“I must admit, I wasn’t sure about taking on a student. I usually don’t. But I’m glad I did. You’ve been quite the diligent student,” she said.

“I’m glad you did too,” you said.

“Of course you are, pet,” she said.

Before you could say anything else, the waiter paused by the side of the table. She ordered for you, glancing over as she did so as if ensure you didn’t argue. You weren’t about to. You’d do whatever she wanted as long as it pleased her.

The wine was expensive, full bodied, better than any other you’d had. It stained her lips and you wanted to lick it free from where it clung to her skin. The discussion over dinner was about the things you’d read that day, listening to the way she so easily connected one story to another. Her mastery was awe inspiring. It was easy to ignore the romantic setting and the wine that kept being poured for you as she spoke, her husky voice doing something delicious to you.

It wasn’t until dessert that it all came crashing back into you. The creme brûlée in front of her was beautiful. The spoon cracked the top and she took a bite, slowly pulling the spoon from between her lips. Her eyelids fluttered shut and a low moan reverberated through her chest. Your cheeks heated, thighs pressing together, turning breathless. A slow smile spread over her face and when her eyes opened again they were smouldering.

“You must try this. No other place does one as good,” she said.

“Oh, uh…” You looked down at the tiramisu in front of you.

“Come here, pet.”

She held out a spoon of the creme brûlée towards you. You lent forward, not quite able to believe what was happening. She placed it in your mouth, blue eyes holding yours over the top of the candle’s flame. It felt as if everything was moving in slow motion as she drew the spoon back.

The small noise of pleasure that came from you had her gaze lowering to your lips. Your tongue darted out, chasing the sugar on your lips. Her eyes darkened and she lent closer over the table.

“How’s that, pet?” she asked, husky, a rasp of a voice.

“It’s delicious,” you said, breathless and high pitched, a perfect opposite to her.

“It is, isn’t it?”

You watched in fascination as she scooped up some more, her tongue licking the spoon clean. Your breath hitched. Under the table, her foot gently brushed against your shin. Her blue eyes twinkled with something you wanted to drown in.

“Eat your dessert, kitten,” she said, “then I’ll take you home.”

You did as you were told, not even tasting coffee and cream of your own dessert. You were so focused on watching her devour her’s, indecent in how much pleasure she took from it. You were squirming in your seat as she finished, feeling on fire.

It wasn’t fair. Nothing about this was fair. You wanted her so much and she was just… making it worse.

She seemed not to realise the exact effect she was having on you as she led you out of the restaurant and back into her car. You stared out the window, not needing to be caught staring any more than you already had. It wasn’t until the rumble of the engine cut off that you realised something.

“This isn’t my home,” you said, staring up at the large two story house in front of you.

“No, it’s mine,” she said.

“What?”

You whipped around to stare at her. She wasn’t even looking back, the door open as she stepped out of the car.

“Are you coming or what?” she asked.

You scrambled to follow her, almost tripping over yourself in your haste. You weren’t sure what you expected, reproach for following her into her house or to be welcomed in with warmth. What you weren’t expecting was to follow her into the back where the kitchen was.

“Do you want tea?” she asked.

“Sure,” you replied, “what am I doing here?”

“Having tea,” she said, glancing at you over her shoulder.

“And then?” you asked.

“Going to sleep. I can’t trust you to do that on your own,” she replied, “clearly.”

“I really am sorry about that,” you said.

“Stop apologising,” she snapped.

Your lips formed the word sorry again before you stopped yourself. Instead, you watched her boil the water for the tea. Your confusion was mixing with your yearning, leaving you unable to do anything but wait for her to tell you what was going on. Pouring the water into two mugs, the strings from the teabags resting against the sides, she looked over her shoulder at you again.

“Come on then.”

You followed her with the two mugs of tea into her living room. It was comfortable, almost like a more lived in version of her office. Sitting beside her on the couch, comfortable and well loved, you watched her lean forward and place one mug on the coffee table. She passed the other to you, fingers brushing together, looking at you from under her eyelashes.

“There you go, kitten,” she murmured.

“Thanks.”

You looked down into the cup, steam rising from the surface of the steeping tea. Your fingers fiddled with the string of the teabag. Her hand landed on your thigh, startling you.

“You’re being awfully quiet,” she said.

“I don’t know what I’m going here,” you said, dragging your eyes up to her.

“Do you not want to be here?” she asked.

“No, no I do,” you said, rushing through the words, “it’s just…”

Her hands were gentle as they took the cup from your hands, placing it down beside hers. You could only watch as she swung her leg over yours, settling herself in your lap. Both hands cupped your cheeks, thumb stroking along your cheekbone.

“Agatha,” you whispered.

“Yes, pet?” she asked.

“I want you,” you confessed.

“I know.”

Her lips pressed against yours, scorching as she consumed your very soul. Your hands hovered above her waist, scared that to touch her was to break the moment, that it would make her come to her senses. She kissed you deeper, nails digging into the skin of your cheeks as she tipped your head back. Her tongue swept into your mouth. She was so warm when your hands made contact with her body.

She moaned into your mouth, filthy and hot, making you claw at her. She tasted of the burnt sugar of the creme brûlée and the wine you’d split with her. She kissed deeper still, stealing your breath. You tugged at her shirt, pulling it out of the waistband of her pants. Shoving your hands up, you felt the soft skin of her bare back against your palms, your fingertips, wanting to feel every inch of her.

Her hands slipped into your hair, shoving it out of the way, tugging on it in a way that had you mewling into her mouth. You felt her grin against your lips before she lent back, staring down at you. Her eyes had darkened, her lips kiss swollen, cheeks flushed.

“Do you want to stop?” she asked.

You shook your head before surging up to capture her lips in another kiss. Her fingers tightened in your hair and she made a small noise as your nails ran down her spine. You felt out of control, wanting more from her, the way you always did. There was something about her that drove you crazy, that had always driven you crazy. Even before you’d met her she’d consumed you.

She sat back again, hands slipping from your hair. You watched as her hands crossed over her body, slowly peeling her shirt off her body. You were dumbstruck, watching her with wide eyes and heaving breath. She flung the shirt aside, shaking her hair back from her face.

“Are you going to touch me, pet?” she asked.

“Yeah,” you breathed out.

Your hands slid around her ribcage, feeling the way her skin moved as she inhaled. She was so warm against your palms, real and there with you. You were slow as you trailed your fingers up, brushing the underside of one cloth covered breast. Your eyes darted up to her face, finding her watching you instead of your hands.

“Go on,” she encouraged.

You cupped them, feeling the weight of them in your hands. Leaning forward, your lips brushed over the curve of one then the other, vulnerable skin soft. Your tongue dragged over it, tasting her. She made a small noise, a rumbling in her chest, hands coming up to curl around the back your neck. She pressed you closer.

Reaching around, you released her from her bra, tugging the straps down her arm. Your mouth was on her again, exploring, until your lips wrapped around a nipple. The noise she made was one of approval, back arching towards your mouth. When you sucked, gentle at first, testing the waters, she pressed you closer again. You wanted to please her so badly.

With your hand, you rolled the other nipple between thumb and forefinger. Your name sounded so sweet on her lips, urging you to continue. Her soft sighs and the way her hips rolled against you only made you want more. You wanted to worship at the alter of her body, to take communion from between her legs, to whisper your confessions into her skin. You wanted to drown in her.

Fingers tilted your chin up, your mouth popping free with an indecent noise. She chuckled, pressing her lips to yours again, teeth sinking in to your lower lip until you tasted the coppery tang of blood. You whined, surprised at how much you enjoyed the sensation of the pain mixed with the pleasure.

You made a pained noise as she climbed off your lap, standing half naked in front of you. Your fingertips skated over her skin. Without a word, she pulled you up off the couch and tugged you towards the stairs. You followed, willing to go wherever she wanted, as long as you could keep touching her.

She paused halfway up, turning to grasp your face in her hands, kissing you again like she couldn’t stop herself. You whimpered into her mouth, hands on her bare waist. She dragged you the rest of the way up, pinning you to the wall at the top of the stairs. You groaned, pressing her closer, wanting her everywhere. One leg slotted between yours and the noise you made would have been embarrassing if you weren’t so lost in her. Her thigh pressed against you, just enough pressure to have you grinding down, seeking out more.

“So needy, pet,” she murmured against your lips.

“Want you,” you managed to choke out before her tongue was in your mouth again and you were rolling your hips against her thigh.

“When I fuck you, it won’t be against the wall,” she said.

She tugged you further down the hall, slamming open a door to what you hoped would be your final destination. Her lips were on yours again, possessing you, guiding you where she wanted you. She paused, just long enough to tear your t-shirt from your body, flinging it aside.

Her lips trailed down your neck, latching on at your pulse point. You whined, tipping your head back to give her more access. You felt on fire. Her hands were skating over your bare skin, nails dragging in a delicious way, making you gasp out her name in a plea for more.

Rather than give in and give you instant gratification, she took her time with you. Her hands were slow but sure as she peeled your clothes from your body. It was the same level of precision she used in her work, getting exactly what she wanted. Only this time, you were the thing she wanted.

When she lowered you onto the bed, you were bare before her. Your usual self consciousness was washed away in the tide of your longing for her. Her eyes swept over you, lingering, taking their time to drink you in in your entirety. Her fingers played with your nipples, watching with an academic interest as you arched up, your small whines doing nothing to spur her on.

Holding your eyes, she pressed kisses to your skin, soft and slow, making her way down your body, lingering the closer she got to the apex of your thighs. You trembled, fingers clenching in the comforter.

“You keep your hands right there, pet,” she said, staring up your body.

You nodded, willing to agree to anything she asked of you in that moment.

“Good girl,” she said before her lips pressed to the crease where your hip met your thigh. You inhaled sharply and she grinned. Her teeth sunk in, leaving a dark bruise on your skin as she sucked on it.

She hovered for a moment, her breath ghosting over where you wanted her the most. You pulsed, suspended in the moment before her mouth made contact with you. Her hands curled around your thighs, holding you open for her as her tongue ran through your folds. You cried out, hips bucking up into her mouth.

She chuckled, the vibrations going through you in a way that made you feel like you were being undone. Her tongue teased you again before pressing against your bundle of nerves. You whined, fingers clenching, her name a prayer on your lips. She pinned your hips to the bed, giving your clit a harsh suck. The feeling ricocheted through you, fire curling in your veins, your muscles tightening.

She feasted on you. Relentless, unforgiving, refusing to give you a chance to breathe. She was like a woman possessed, singular in her intent, putting everything into her goal. She was taking you apart, slowly and surely, and all you could hope was that she’d put you back together again when she was done.

Her fingers slid inside of you, so easily it would be embarrassing under other circumstances. They were slow at first, teasing and never giving you quite enough. But then she curled them, pressing into the special place no one but you had managed to find. Your legs trembled.

“I’m so close,” you whimpered.

“No you don’t, pet,” she said, “you don’t come until I say so.”

“But-“ you tried to argue.

“You want to be a good girl for me, don’t you?” she asked, cutting you off, thumb running in slow circles over your clit.

“Yes,” you replied, whiney and desperate.

“Then don’t you dare come without my permission,” she said, face lowering back to your throbbing core.

Her tongue was back on your clit as her fingers continued to stroke inside of you. You trembled, shaking, trying so hard to stave off your oncoming orgasm. Tears pricked in your eyes, fingers clenching tightly on the hold you had on the sheets until it hurt. She kept going, ruthless in what she wanted. She had complete control over you.

It was so close, you could practically taste it. You were straining, doing everything you could not to tip over the edge. She was a master of your body, able to play it to perfection. Her tongue kept dragging over your clit, sucking on it, fingers twisting and curling, dragging out every iota of pleasure your body held.

“Agatha,” you sobbed, “please.”

Blue eyes stared up at you, dark and dangerous.

“Please,” you begged.

Her fingers gave another slow stroke. You whimpered, your entire body on fire, wound tight as you did what you were told. You always did what she told you to do.

“Go on, pet,” she said, “keep your eyes on me and you can come.”

You let out a relieved breath. When you let yourself go, the wave of pleasure crashed into you, wave after wave. She held your gaze the entire time, drinking in the way pleasure contorted your body. The way you cried out her name felt holy, a cry of worship as you stared into her eyes.

When she drew back, she held her hand up, tongue running up her fingers. You reached out, grasping her wrist. She let you pull her hand towards you, your lips sliding down her fingers, lapping your arousal from her skin. Her eyes smouldered as she watched you, a pleased smirk on her lips.

“You are a good girl, aren’t you pet,” she murmured, gently stroking you hair with her other hand. The pulse of pleasure that went through you was bright and intense. You liked being her good girl.

Your tongue swirled over each digit, cleaning her up as best you could. A flicker of fondness passed over her face before she pulled it away from you. Leaning forward, her lips pressed against yours, rough and intense, passionate in ways you hadn’t experienced with anyone else. It made you feel wanted, desired, the way you always felt wanted with her. After all, she’d agreed to take you on for your senior thesis when she so rarely took people on.

“Alright, kitten,” she whispered against your lips, “let’s see how many times I can make you come tonight before you beg me to stop.”

When you awoke in the morning, deliciously sore and definitely sated, you rolled over in the large bed, hands reaching for the warm body you were expecting to find beside you. All you found was cool sheets. Squinting your eyes open, the light was still kept at bay from the drawn curtains, but the room was empty of another person. You sat up, rumpled and unsure.

You slipped out of the bed, tugging your clothes back on but your feet bare. You were slow as you eased the door open, padding out onto the landing you’d paid no attention to the night before. On silent feet, you descended to the lower level of the house, following the sound you could just hear.

Agatha was in the kitchen, her back to you, encased in a flowing silk robe. You blinked, pausing as you drank her in. Her hair, wild and out of control, long fingers tapping on the counter, legs bare where they peeked out the bottom of the robe. She was breathtaking in the morning light.

“You’re staring, kitten,” she said, voice still rough from sleep.

“Sorry,” you said, slipping into the kitchen proper.

She turned her head, glancing at you over her shoulder. Her eyebrows drew together and the corner of her lips turned down.

“Why are you dressed?” she asked, stepping away from the counter, “were you planning on sneaking out in the morning?”

“No, I… I wasn’t sure what was appropriate,” you said.

“Please tell me this wasn’t your first time,” she said.

“Of course not,” you said, “although I suppose it is my first time with my professor,”

She hummed but didn’t give you more of an answer. Anxiety was seeping into your body now.

“I thought you might want me to leave.”

Her eyes snapped back to you, displeasure painting her features.

“Come here.”

You didn’t move.

“I’m not going to ask again, pet,” she said, voice hardened, “come. Here.”

On soft feet you approached her. With sure hands she caught you, fingers pressing into your hips as she held you tightly. Your eyes darted around her face before dragging down. Bare skin met your eyes until the shadow of the robe obscured her from your vision. She was naked under the robe and there was still a part of you that wanted to unwrap her like a present.

“Do you want to leave?” she asked, gaining your attention again.

Your eyes snapped up to hers and you shook your head.

“I thought I’d made it obvious that the only place I want you is with me,” she said, “the only person I want you thinking about is me. The only person I want touching you is me.”

You trembled.

“Do you want that too, kitten?” she asked, drawing closer.

“Yes,” you breathed out.

“Then you’re mine, pet,” she said, her nose skimming along the curve of your jaw.

Her hand squeezed your hips and her lips pressed to the vulnerable skin behind your jaw before she pulled away. Your breath caught and you felt lightheaded. You ached to pull her back to you, to lose yourself in the feeling of her body and her skin and her mouth. Would you ever stop feeling this way with her? You didn’t think so.

“Now, I’ve been thinking. I’ve been pushing you too hard lately. You can have the weekend off,” she said.

“Oh.” You were still trembling from the brush of her lips and her words, “thanks.”

“So you won’t be needing those clothes,” she said, flippant and dismissive, “you certainly won’t be in them long.”

You flushed, cheeks heating. There was a twist to her lips, amusement twinkling in her eyes. You slipped closer to her again, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“Whatever you want, Agatha,” you whispered.

“All I want is you, pet,” she replied.

Turns out, all you wanted was her too.

[smileysuh]

dumb frat boy

🌙 starring. Lee Donghyuck x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “I’d ask what you want me to do to you, but I did some research last night, watched some of that Hentaid shit you were talking about. It’s a lot of bondage, isn’t it, Angel? A lot of… creampies. You’ve got a thing for being held down and filled, huh? I guess…” he lets out a small laugh, “I guess I’m a little shocked, seeing as you’re so sassy with me. Guess you just want someone to put you in your place. What is it you called Johnny? A good daddy dom? I might not always be a dom, but for you, I can make it work.” 

tw/cw. yandere/stalker sub themes, ‘unknown’ caller, he’s horny, mentions of porn/masturbation, weed/alcohol use, unprotected sex, oral (m/f receiving), deep throating, face fucking, nipple pinching/nipple worship, fingering, dirty talk, praise, hyuck has a thick cock, cum/fullness kink, creampie, etc… I pet names: (hers) Angel (his) baby.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 9.1k

🍭 aus. uni/frat au, yandere subthemes, Halloween, etc…

☀️ mlist + an.  We're back in the Ghostie au! I'm so happy to be able to put out a fic for Hyuck a year after the original story captivated so many of us <3

Prologue

“I’ve got the best idea ever,” Hyuck says the moment after he’s released his first breath from the bong.

Johnny lets out a sigh, leaning back in his recliner. “This better not be another themed wet tittie car wash fundraiser.”

“Excuse me, that idea was brilliant- pairing up with our sister sorority and being horny on cars while in costumes that somewhat resembled cars from the Disney movie Cars made us more cash for the Humane Society than we’ve ever raised, so dial it down on your tone there, Ghostie.” 

The elder frat boy rolls his eyes at the nickname. When word got out about how he wooed his girlfriend last Halloween, the term ‘Ghostie’ ended up sticking, and Johnny’s never been able to let down the sexy stalker angle, even this year's pledges know about it.

“As I was saying,” Hyuck continues, “I figure I’ll take a page out of your book, and do some weird phone call thing to woo my Angel.”

“Oh, so you’re finally gonna admit your feelings to your best friend?” Johnny asks in shock, sitting up to take a better look at the younger frat boy.

“Yes, but after a week of toying with her,” Hyuck announces. “It will be fun. We all know she got her nickname Angel because she’s really more of a demon, she’s going to love this shit.”

“Well, I guess you know her better than I do,” Johnny muses. “So what’s the plan?”

“Basically, you took the best phone call stalker with Ghost Face, but I figure there are other options out there. Have you ever seen Black Christmas?” 

“Like… the one from the seventies?” Johnny’s apprehension is clear in his features, and he reaches for the bong to take another hit.

“Yeah, the one where the dude calls the sorority and is a horny fuck on the phone.”

“Isn’t there some weird incest plot and jaundice thing in the second movie though?”

“No one watches the second movie! We don’t claim the way they butchered the story with that!” Hyuck exclaims, feeling agitated already. 

“I feel like, if you called her, and did the whole Black Christmas thing, she wouldn’t know what the fuck movie you’re referencing.” 

“They did a remake in 2019,” Hyuck insists.

“Did anyone actually watch it though?” Johnny’s an avid horror film lover, and if he hasn’t seen the remakes, it’s not looking good for you to be able to pick up the references, a thought that throws Hyuck off.

However, even though he’s been swayed, Hyuck won’t give up on this idea. “Look, think of it as a Love is Blind sort of thing- I can make her fall in love with me over the phone, and then when I reveal myself as her best friend, she’ll be all ‘woah, we’re soulmates!’”

Johnny looks as skeptical as ever. “Are you sure that’s the way this is going to go?”

Hyuck scrunches his nose up in distaste at the lack of support. “Yes.” 

The elder frat boy takes in a deep breath, shaking his head. “If this is what you want to do, I won’t stop you. I just… I think your Angel would react better if you were just straight up with her. Maybe there’s a reason the two of you have never gone past the friend stage. I think the good thing about me doing this last year, was I was just acquaintances with Tiny, I made it clear off the bat that I just wanted to know her better. If she didn’t want me, then that would be fine. If you do this with Angel, and she finds out it’s you and doesn’t return your feelings, you’re going to ruin a friendship.”

Hyuck thinks about what Johnny’s just said as he watches the tall resident Ghostie take another bong hit. It’s true- In Hyuck’s heart of hearts, he knows that… there must be a reason the two of you have never hooked up, but it’s a reason he’s never been able to identify.

The cocky side of him refuses to believe it’s because you’re not attracted to him- there’s definitely sexual tension between the two of you, so it must be something else. 

He’s so tired of toeing the line, especially since you’ve always been kindred, mischievous, horny little souls.

You were with Hyuck when he pranked Sigma Veta Tau last Christmas and put glitter on their ceiling fans. You were with Hyuck when he put a rotisserie chicken in Alpha Tappa Zeta’s air vents. In fact, you’ve been present at almost all of Hyuck’s master plan shenanigans. 

There’s something going on between the two of you and he knows it. 

Last year, when Johnny had pulled his little semi-stalker Ghostie stunt, Hyuck had noted that whoever was behind the anonymous calls had some balls to hit on a girl that way, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t live up to that.

“Listen,” Hyuck sighs. “This is between us. Angel is going to try to figure out who’s calling her, and I need you to keep your mouth shut, okay?”

“Fine,” Johnny agrees, shaking his head. “Hyuck, I love you, but sometimes I forget how much of a dumb frat boy you are.” 

“You know what?” Hyuck grabs at the bong. “I’ll take that as a fucking compliment.” 

Sunday

You’re in the middle of a much-needed nap. Curled up on your fuzzy blankets, your textbook long since discarded while your mood lighting twinkles through the space, it’s the most comfortable you’ve been all term. It’s late October, the nights come early, and you’re starting to not mind the cool air that seeps through the crack in your window.

It’s because you’re dead asleep, that when your phone rings, you don’t even check who’s calling. You simply bolt up, dazed and confused, reaching to pull your cell to your ear. 

“Hello?”

At first, all you hear is breathing on the other end of the line, and you roll your eyes. You’re no stranger to dumb calls, spam calls, and the like- but then, “Angel?”

Well, this is definitely not a spam caller, they wouldn’t know your nickname if it was.

“Who’s this?” you ask, pulling your phone away from your ear to look down at your screen. It’s a ‘No Caller ID,’ and you let out another exasperated sound.  

“A friend,” the person on the other end of the line tells you. 

“A friend I don’t have in my contacts?” you scoff.

“Burner phone, baby.”

“And what would be the point of getting a burner phone just to call little ol’ me?” you sigh, relaxing against your pillows and pinching the bridge of your nose in annoyance. 

“Why so serious, Angel?”

“Jeeze, dude, if you’re going to do the whole creepy caller before Halloween cliche, at least stick to your character.” You can’t believe he’s quoting Health Ledger’s Joker at you now. “Who are you even trying to be? Ghost Face is so last Halloween, we all know Johnny knocked that shit out of the park. A copycat sequel is just… early 2000’s.”

“Okay, let me drop character for just a second,” the man on the other end of the line sighs, and you giggle at how his voice modulator emphasizes his own exasperation. “Think, horny telephone guy.”

“I wouldn’t call Ghost Face particularly horny, he was just a nerd.”

“I’m not Ghost Face!” he insists. “Scream came out in the mid-nineties, think earlier than that.” 

“What, am I supposed to be some kind of horror movie expert?” you scoff. 

“Fine, I’ll just tell you,” the guy sighs. “Have you seen Black Christmas?”

“Never even heard of it.”

“Fuck,” he curses. “Well, don’t go watch it, it has some cult following but it’s not even one of my favourites- the reason I chose the dude from that movie is because he’s a horny little fuck and calls a sorority house and some shit- and also, don’t look up the second movie, I don’t claim the sequel.” 

“Wow, I love that you chose a character based purely on horniness and not if the movie is even good,” you giggle.

“Well, Johnny took the best slasher caller! What was I supposed to do? Go all ghost child from The Black Phone movie?”

“What’s The Black Phone movie?”

“Ethan Hawke? Horror veteran, who plays the hero author in Sinister, turned bad guy in the 2021 film by the same director?” 

You let out a whistle. “TBH, dude, it sucks Johnny got to Ghostie first last year, because I’d bet money you know more about horror movies than he does.”

“I one hundred percent do!” 

“Okay, so back to the point,” you laugh. “You’re calling me as this horny dude from some Halloween Christmas movie- for what?”

“To talk to you?” he suggests. “To uh… be horny… at you?” 

“And what does this accomplish? I mean- we all know Johnny’s Ghostie story from last year, he called a girl every day, told her to come to his frat party, and revealed himself there. Is that your game plan?”

“I was thinking about it, but it sounds kind of lackluster now.”

“That’s because it’s not an original idea at all,” you point out.

“Sequels aren’t always original,” the man counters. “Lots of movies have the same plot just different characters, some recurring- look, it doesn’t have to be original. The original angle to this Halloween movie is that I’m going to be way more horny than Johnny probably ever was last year.” 

“And I’m just going to allow that?” you grin. 

“Yeah, because we both know why you have your nickname, don’t we, Angel? You’re a dirty little minx, and you’re going to love this.”

“Except, what if, Halloween comes, and you’re a frat guy that I think is ugly?” you ask. “If you know me, you know I have very specific tastes. There’s only a handful of guys I’d actually be interested in, what makes you think you’re one of them?”

The line is dead for a few stagnant seconds, then, “I just am, okay?”

“Cocky little fucker,” you giggle.

“Don’t be rude.” 

At this point, you’re pretty sure you know who’s on the other end of the line. 

There’s been a few tells from your best friend, Donghyuck. For example, he’s the biggest actual horror buff in the NCT frat. He idolizes Johnny, and was always salty that Mark got the Chicago man as a Big and not himself, so he had a close eye on the events that took place last year in NCT’s ‘Ghostie’ Saga. On top of all of this, there’s an extreme familiarity in the way he’s talking to you, a preexisting natural tint to his diction. Lastly, Hyuck’s the cockiest little dumb frat boy of them all, and it’s one of the reasons you’ve always loved him… one of the reasons you’ve also always kept a bit of distance from your best friend whenever situations have had the option of turning romantic.

Well, if this is how he wants to make his move at you, so be it.

Maybe he’ll convince you that he can be more than a good fuck- you’d never risk your friendship for a one-night stand, no, he’ll have to prove that he could go all in, that he deserves you.

And if all else is just extra, you can at least have some fun toying with Hyuck while he thinks he’s the one toying with you. 

“Okay,” you sigh, stretching. “Let's do this, but we can start tomorrow, you woke me up from a nap, and I’d very much like to get back to it.” 

Monday

“I’m not waking you up from a nap, am I, Angel?” 

“Nope,” you grin, mischief working its way through your mind as you think of the best way to throw Hyuck off. “I was just watching some porn, flicking the bean, you know, that sort of thing.”

You hear him choke. “F… Flicking the bean?”

“Come on, you have to have heard of flicking the bean!” you insist. “Buddy, you’re the one who’s supposed to be calling me to be horny, this is your perfect opportunity!”

“Right, I uh…” he coughs. “How’s… how’s the bean flicking going?”

“Dude, do you know anything about seduction?” you scoff. “‘How’s the bean flicking going,’” you imitate. “Lame!”

“Rude!” he counters.

God, he’s so obviously Hyuck and you bet he doesn’t even realize it. 

“You know what, if you must ask, the bean flicking is going really well.”

“What kind of porn do you watch?” he questions next. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you tease.

“Tell me,” Hyuck insists. 

“Might have to get you to beg if you want to hear those kinds of details.”

“I’m the creepy phone stalker, I call the shots.”

You roll your eyes. “Sure you do, buddy.” 

“Stop calling me buddy.”

“Okay, dude.”

“Don’t call me dude either!”

“Then what am I supposed to call you? It’s not like anyone knows the name of the slasher from Halloween Christmas, or whatever. You’re no Ghost Face, friend.”

“It’s Black Christmas,” he corrects you. “And I’m pretty sure his name is Billy.”

“Wow, how sexy, Billy,” you scoff. “You really didn’t think this one through that well, did you, buddy?”

“Original Ghost Face is who? Stu Matcher and Billy fucking Loomis,” Hyuck points out. “It’s not the worst name in the world.”

“Tell me one person who refers to Ghost Face as Billy Loomis though, one person, and I’ll tell you what porn I watch.”

“The… screenwriter?”

“Jesus Christ, dude. That’s such low-hanging fruit.”

“Now tell me what porn you watch.” 

You let out a deep sigh. “All this bickering has me not in the mood anymore.”

“Weird, I’m extra in the mood now.”

“Cuz you’re a weirdo who gets off on play fighting, I bet.” 

His voice takes on a whiney pitch when he says, “Tell me what porn you watch!” 

“Honestly?” You’re tired of this conversation, but you see one last opportunity to toy with Hyuck before you hang up. “Hentaid on Porn Hub, I’m all about that alien, tentacle shit,” your voice takes on the air of a damsel in distress when you muse, “No mortal man can ever satiate me, I’m afraid.”

“Holy shit,” Hyuck whispers. “Are you for real? Tentacle porn?”

“Uh huh, now, goodnight, buddy.” You hang up on Hyuck with a shit-eating grin on your face, knowing you’ve left him something to think about. 

Tuesday

“Hey,” you say, sitting down next to your best friend in the on-campus burger joint where you spend your Tuesday two-hour period between classes. “I’ve got something to talk to you about.”

Hyuck is mid-bite of a burger, and he holds up a hand, covering his obnoxious eating style. “Just a sec,” he mumbles. 

You wait patiently, staring at your friend while he finishes up. He’s in a black hoodie, and black t-shirt, and his laptop is open next to where he’s eating his combo meal. He’s usually here before you are, scoping out a booth and food so you two can chill in peace before your shared history course. 

History isn’t your major per se, it’s more of a special interest, and the same goes for Hyuck. He’s a film major- another obvious dent in his plan to fly under the radar as your phone stalker who just happens to know everything about horror movies. 

“Okay,” Hyuck says, swallowing the last of his large bite of food. “What’s up?”

“So on Sunday, I got a phone call from some dude with a burner phone,” you explain, watching closely as Hyuck’s brows raise just a moment too late to be legitimate surprise.

“Yeah? What did he say?”

“He’s trying to recreate Johnny’s whole Ghostie thing from last year, but as is the case with most sequels in the horror genre, he’s kind of missing the mark.”

Hyuck chokes a little on his food, and he reaches for his Coke to wash it down. “What’s he doing wrong?”

“What an odd question, Hyuck,” you say, narrowing your eyes at him. “But, to answer it, he’s just… not loose enough. He feels too rigid. I gave him an in last night, if you know what I mean, and he just, fumbled it.”

“An in?” Hyuck cocks his head to the side, “what do you mean?”

“You know, an opportunity to be horny with me.”

“And you want him to be horny with you?”

“I mean, that’s the whole point isn’t it? He promised me he’d be more horny than Johnny was last year, but I feel like Johnny probably had this whole daddy dom thing down- I don’t know what this new guy is trying to give, but he’s not giving, you feel me?”

“Huh, that’s weird,” Hyuck shrugs, picking up his burger again. “Do you have any guesses who it might be?”

You shrug. “He told me it was someone I think is hot. So that means it could be Jaehyun- God, you know how sexy I think Jaehyun is,” - you’re relishing in the way you get to tease Hyuck like this - “it could be Jeno, or Jaemin- I don’t think I’d even mind if both of them came up to me on Halloween, full original Scream style- Jaemin is definitely the Stu Matcher character, though.” 

“Jeeze, Angel,” Hyuck grimaces, putting his burger down and leaning back in the booth. “Do you have to talk about two of my best friends tag teaming you while I’m eating?”

“Sorry, babes,” you snicker. “I just think this week is going to be fun, and I can’t wait for my Billy Halloween Christmas stalker to find his A-game.”

You half expect Hyuck to correct you on the movie title, and you see him bite his tongue, fighting the urge to throw his own cover under the bus in a bid to protect the sanctity of cult films. But alas, Hyuck shuts himself up with another bite of his burger, and with one last look at your friend, you pull out your laptop to actually get some work done.

Wednesday

“Hey, bud,” you answer your call with a grin, twirling your hair around your finger while your eyes skim your textbook. “What happened yesterday? You never called.”

“You looked busy,” comes a curt retort.

“Oh… did you see me with Hyuck?” you stifle a laugh, of course he’s going to play this jealousy angle, when in reality, he was probably just butthurt about you toying with him. 

“It was hard not to notice you with him,” he responds. 

“Someone sounds jealous.”

“What’s your relationship with him?”

God, Hyuck must be very desperate to be trying to get details out of you about how you feel about him, through his alter ego.

You take a deep breath, closing your book and leaning back in your chair. “We’re close,” you start.

“But just friends.” 

“Just friends,” you confirm. “I guess, I mean, obviously he’s cute. There’s no argument about Hyuck being cute. And he’s fun, he’s cocky, he’s mischievous- I guess my one concern with him is if he could do something long term. I may come off as a dirty little demon child, but in reality- I don’t want to put all my eggs in one guys basket if he’s busy collecting eggs, if that makes any sense.”

“You want a guy who just wants you, who puts in the effort.”

“Exactly.” 

“I’m putting in effort,” your ‘mystery man’ points out.

“I suppose this could be considered effort.” 

“I spent twenty five bucks on this burner phone.”

“Wow, buddy, that must have broke the bank.” 

“I have money!” he insists.

Hyuck definitely has money, it’s one of the reasons he’s probably so cocky. He comes from a large line of Lee’s, a family group that owns development all around the country. You’ve tried not to let any gold digging inklings stain your perception of the frat boy though, that wouldn’t be fair to him.

“Hey, friend?” you ask, choosing a base level nickname for this man who is clearly Hyuck.

“Yes, Angel?”

“Were you thinking about it yesterday?”

“Thinking about what?”

“Me, you know… watching alien tentacle porn and flicking my bean.” You try to make your voice sound innocent, but you can’t help the mischievous grin that works it’s way onto your face. 

You can hear him swallow thickly. “Hold that thought, I’m going to call you back.” 

“Wait-” before you can get an explanation, the line goes dead, and you release an annoyed huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

He’s such a little shit, leaving you hanging like this-

Two minutes go by, then five- and just as you’re starting to be really annoyed, Hyuck calls you back.

“Took you long enough,” you snap.

“Listen, Angel, I needed to get in the mood. I’m too rigid talking to a pretty girl like you, had to take some of the load off.” You can tell, even under his modulated voice, that Hyuck has most definitely just gotten into some weed.

This is so classic him- and to be completely fair, you’ve witnessed the effects of Mary-Jane on one mister Lee Donghyuck. He’s much more suave while green, less anxious, more willing to take risks.

“So, to answer your question,” Hyuck continues, letting out a breath. “I have been thinking about you. Been thinking about your cute voice, how it would sound begging, whining, whimpering- what little noises you’d make choking on cock, or tentacle-” Hyuck laughs. “I’ll be honest, I don’t have an octopus dick or anything. If you let me, you’ll have to be okay with a human style back breaking.” 

You’re shocked.

Had he really just said all of this to you?

Was weed all it took for him to pull up his big boy panties and lay some actual sin onto you?

You can’t ignore the way your pussy flutters with interest at his words, and you shift uncomfortably in your chair. “I’m sure we can make it work… what kind of tool are you packing, buddy?” 

Hyuck chuckles. “It’s thick, I think it will do the job.”

Hyuck isn’t the tallest frat boy, but in no way is he the smallest either. He’s average, and to think that he has an above average girthy dick- well, you can’t help lick your lips in interest. 

“Stalker got your tongue, Angel?” Hyuck asks. “You’ve just gone awfully quiet.”

“I’m just…” you swallow thickly. “Just thinking.”

“About my thick cock splitting you open?” 

God, your pussy is throbbing now- “How… our first few calls were so awkward-”

“I promised you dirty, didn’t I? Needed some courage first, but… I can tell you’re not mad about it.” 

You’re definitely not mad about it.

You think maybe part of you would be upset if you didn’t know your ‘mystery caller’s’ identity- but the safety of knowing, in your heart of hearts, that this is Hyuck- it changes everything, and you can allow yourself to feel the pleasure already beating through you.

“I’d ask what you want me to do to you, but I did some research last night, watched some of that Hentaid shit you were talking about. It’s a lot of bondage, isn’t it, Angel? A lot of… creampies. You’ve got a thing for being held down and filled, huh? I guess…” he lets out a small laugh, “I guess I’m a little shocked, seeing as you’re so sassy with me. Guess you just want someone to put you in your place. What is it you called Johnny? A good daddy dom? I might not always be a dom, but for you, I can make it work.” 

“So…” you find it hard to even speak because he’s so right about his assessment that it hurts. “So… you’re more of a switch?”

“I can be. Generally, I’m not about strict roles in the bedroom, but if you’re into that sort of thing, I can see what it’s about.” 

“Tell me more about being a switch?”

“Don’t want to give you too many details about myself, these calls are about you, Angel.” 

You let out a groan.

“Be patient,” he reminds you. “And tell me, are you as wet right now as I am hard?”

This time, the sound you release is really more of a moan, and it makes Hyuck chuckle darkly.

“I’ll take that as a yes… are you gonna touch yourself after this? Gonna do all the work I can’t do, not yet, anyway.” 

“Maybe…”

“I like the thought of that, two horny people, whacking off together after a phone call, different rooms, but we’ll be on each other’s minds.” 

You get the suspicion that Hyuck is going to be on your mind for a whole lot longer than simply your upcoming bean-flicking session. 

Thursday

“I’m here, I’m here! What’s the emergency!” Mark asks, out of breath, his cheeks flushed from the cold outside and having just run across campus.

“It’s not an emergency, don’t worry, just sit!” you tell him, pushing out a chair.

“Angel, you texted me, and I quote,” he pulls out his phone, “911, meet me at our spot in the library asap.”

“Well, I wanted you to come,” you shrug.

“God, you’re as much of a drama queen as Hyuck is,” Mark sighs, taking his seat across from you. 

“Speaking of Hyuck…” you grin, leaning forward and clasping your hands together, “your roommate decided to go full Ghostie this year.”

“Wait, he’s not doing Ghost Face for Halloween-”

“No, I mean, like, stalker phone call Johnny Ghostie,” you clarify. 

“What?” Mark’s expression is blank, and he looks completely unimpressed.

“Basically, he called me on Sunday, did this whole thing about doing a Black Christmas character or some shit- he’s been calling me from a burner phone with a voice modulator-”

“Jesus Christ,” Mark sighs, covering his eyes with his hand. 

“The moral of the story is, Halloween night, I’m calling dibs on your room.”

“My room?” Mark peaks out at you through his fingers.

“Your roommate has to get laid. Actually, scratch that, I have to get laid… with your roommate.” 

“This is so-” Mark groans. “I thought we were over this stalker Halloween thing to get girls. Don’t any of us have respect or standards anymore?”

“You’re frat boys, Mark, so the answer on that one is going to be a no from me.”

“Why are you even into this?” Mark questions further. “Like- what’s so sexy about any of this?”

“I mean… it shows Hyuck cares?”

“He cares enough to get a burner phone and a voice modulator and call you and be creepy and horny? Wow, what a huge chivalrous act of love.” 

You narrow your eyes at Mark Lee. “I’m not enjoying your sarcasm, mister.”

“And I’m not enjoying this,” Mark retorts, pointing between the two of you. “Fuck, fine, have my room on Halloween.”

“Last thing though, Hyuck can’t know that I know that he’s the one calling me.” 

“Wait, so this isn’t a bit? He’s committed to trying to trick you?” Mark leans back in his chair, his expression getting even more bleak. “The two of you are crazier than I thought.” 

As you open your mouth to respond, your phone rings, and you look down to see Hyuck’s burner ‘No Caller ID.’

“Heya, buddy,” you answer, bringing your finger to your lips to shush Mark.

“Watcha up to?”

“Just in the library with a friend.”

Hyuck’s tone shifts. “Which friend?”

“Mark, you probably know him.”

“Of course I know fucking Mark. Why’s he with you?” 

“Just chatting… why? You jealous?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No!”

“Yes!” You let out a laugh. “Buddy, settle down, we both know I’m not into Mark Lee, we’ve talked about this before.”

“We’ve never talked about Mark,” Hyuck responds, and you realize, you may have just betrayed that you know who he is-

“I mean, he wasn’t on my list with Jaehyun, or Jeno, or Jaemin-” you quickly cover your blunder, and Hyuck releases an annoyed sound.

“I get it, I get it,” he groans. “Fine, finish up your time with fucking Mark, then.” 

“Don’t be salty about this,” you warn.

“Yeah, whatever.” 

Friday

It’s the final day before Halloween, and if there’s one thing you know for sure, it’s that Hyuck is working. The SVT and NCT frats are the primary workers at the on-campus bar, Skeets, so they have a deal that NCT works the Friday before Halloween, and SVT works the Saturday. 

Knowing these details, you’re also aware that it’s possible Hyuck won’t be home till three am, so you’re a little shocked when you get a call at one.

“Hi, Angel.”

“If it isn’t my favorite stalker,” you grin, pausing your horror film- in all truth, you’d decided to watch Black Christmas, and now you can see why Hyuck told you not to bother, he hasn’t nailed the deranged attitude of the main villain at all. 

“Watcha doin?”

“Not much, you?”

“Not much,” he responds.

“Are you sure?” you counter. “Cuz something tells me maybe you’re working right now… did you get a break, buddy?”

“I’m not working,” he insists. 

“Sure you’re not,” you laugh, dropping the line of questioning. “Hey, tell me again why you chose Billy from Black Christmas?” 

“Seriously?” Hyuck lets out a sigh. “I guess I just wanted… an excuse to be horny on the phone for you, even if it’s just for a week.”

He sounds defeated, and you’re not shocked. Halloween is the busiest night of the year at the bar Hyuck works at, if anything, you’re surprised he even had a moment to dip outside and call you.

“You’re cute,” you muse. “You sound tired, so I’ll let you go, but uh… I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“You will.”

“And how will I know it’s you?” 

“You just will, goodnight, Angel.” 

Saturday 

You’ve just arrived at the frat party, and already, you’re on the hunt for Hyuck.

At this point, you’re tired of the games. You feel closer to Hyuck, in some odd, sinister sort of way- closer than you ever have before. And you’re tired of hiding it, tired of this weird cat and mouse- you just want to have a conversation with him, to get everything out into the open so you can truly discuss your feelings.

You find him by the beer pong table. He’s in a full denim fit, and you can’t put your finger on who he is as you approach.

“Hey, Hyuck,” you greet, tucking into his side so he can hear you over the music. “Nice Canadian Tuxedo.”

“Do you know who I am?” he asks.

“Uh…” You look at him blankly. “Are you talking about your denim costume? Or the way you’ve been calling me all week?”

Hyuck stares at you in shock. “Uh…” he clears his throat. “I’m Ken… you know, from the Barbie movie.” 

“Right…” you trail off, wondering if he’s going to touch on the Black Christmas side of things.

“Also… what do you mean? About me calling you all week?”

“Hyuck,” you sigh. “Please don’t try to avoid this. Just be honest. It’s you. I know it’s you.” 

He looks at you, and you can see the cogs turning in his mind.

“You told me you’d reveal yourself tonight,” you continue. “I know I kind of just threw you under the bus, maybe I ruined your master plan or something, but I’m tired of pretending I don’t know it’s one of my best friends who’s been calling me all week being horny.”

“Are you mad at me?” he asks, voice lowering. His eyes search yours, as if he’s trying to get a read on you.

“Hyuck,” you let out a laugh, “I’m not mad at all, but I think we should go to your room and talk this out a little, don’t you?”

“I guess that’s a good idea,” he acquiesces. 

“Then let’s go.” You grab his hand, lacing your fingers so you can drag him to the stairs that lead to the second floor. You don’t say anything as you move, you’re on a mission, and what you need to discuss with him is better said alone than in a crowd of horny Halloween partygoers.

You make it to the privacy of his room, and you shut the door behind you. “So?”

“So?” Hyuck moves through the space, and you notice him heading for his bong.

“Hey, don’t do that,” you sigh.

“Don’t do what?” he asks.

“You don’t need to get high to have this conversation.”

“I don’t?”

“No.” You shake your head. “I don’t want you to be high when we do this.” 

Hyuck lets out another deep breath. “This isn’t how I planned things.”

“Yeah, I guess not,” you admit, watching him take a seat on his bed. “How did you see tonight panning out?” 

“I suppose I figured I could get some drinks in, liquid courage, that sort of thing. And then, maybe I’d reveal myself at the end of the night or something.”

“Are you really so scared of me that you need to be drinking to confess how you feel?” you ask, melting a little. You approach Hyuck, sitting carefully on the bed next to him while he faces clear inner turmoil.

“I’m not afraid,” he states, but you can tell from the tone of his voice that there’s something else going on. “I just… You told me you only want a man who can commit, a guy who only has eyes for you- and, I do, but… we both know my playboy track record, and I guess… I just worry about hurting you.”

“Do you want to hurt me?” you question, tilting your head as you try to understand him.

“No, never.”

“Do you think you’re at the point where you could settle down a little? I’m not trying to get you to stop partying, I just mean… committing to one girl, is that something you think you’re capable of?”

“If it’s you, then yeah… I think so,” he nods, finally meeting your eyes.

He looks so vulnerable, and it’s very different from how you usually view your mischievous friend.

“Hyuck,” you whisper, unable to help the way your hand raises to cup his cheek. “I’m willing to give this a shot if you are. If there’s something real here, and it’s not just you being a horny, dumb frat boy.”

“Okay, rude,” Hyuck laughs, showing you a glimmer of the him that you know and love, “It’s more than being horny… but… in all honesty, seeing you in this fucking faerie costume has me all hot and bothered.”

“Yeah?” You lean closer, grinning. Your lips ghost over his when you say your next words, “So what are you gonna do about it?”

Hyuck sucks in a sharp breath, his pupils dilating- you’re so close to him, and you can make out all the pretty shades of brown in his irises. Gosh, he really is a pretty frat boy. 

His hands find your hips, and he tugs your body closer. You can feel him breathing, his gaze darting between your own and your mouth. You watch his tongue dip out to wet his lips, and he swallows thickly.

“Fuck it,” he mutters, finally smashing his lips to your own. 

It’s not gentle by any means, but it’s not necessarily aggressive either- one word to describe this kiss, is: desperate. He’s so eager, and you kind of love it, love the way he tugs you flush to his own body, one hand moving to cup your cheek- his tongue glides against your own and you stifle a moan, shifting in his embrace so you can wrap your arms around his neck.

It feels so good to be pressed against him like this- you’re actually kind of shocked at how good it feels. And his hands, exploring your body, keeping you close, fingers digging into your hips-

Hyuck is everywhere, devouring you like you’re his last meal.

“Oh,” you whisper, when Hyuck’s mouth moves to your neck. “By the way, I called dibs on your room with Mark, he won’t be bothering us.”

Your dumb frat boy pulls away from your throat, a grin on his face. “You really knew it was me all along, huh?”

“You’re not exactly subtle, buddy,” you laugh.

Hyuck shakes his head, reaching to lock the door before his hands ensnare you again. He pushes his body against yours, urging you to move backward until your calves hit the bed. Before pushing you down, he removes your faerie costume wings, and only once the more delicate part of your costume is discarded, does he shove you onto his mattress.

“Hyuck,” you giggle, looking up at him with starry eyes.

“You look so good like this,” Hyuck muses, tugging his denim ‘Ken’ style vest off to reveal a body hardened from Frat mandated work out brother time. He’s not too big, not too built- Hyuck still has some pudge on him, but you kind of love it. You love that it’s not a full six pack and bulging biceps- you can imagine that when this is all done, he’ll be lovely to cuddle with.

In fact, you’re not sure it would matter how muscled Hyuck is. Sure, it helps that he’s physically fit and hot, but- at this point in your friendship, you’re attracted to him for so much more than his body.

No man makes you laugh like him. No man has spent the time that he has to understand you and make you feel comfortable with him knowing you, the true you, the you that you don’t get to show many others.

Hyuck is just… he’s good for you, and he always has been. That goodness has so far been a friend capacity sort of thing, but you’re excited about the new development in your relationship. You think there’s true potential with him, and it makes you dizzy as you stare up at one of your best friends.

“I kind of want to eat you out, Angel,” Hyuck admits, one hand finding your thigh and pushing your short dress even higher up  your leg.

“Funny, I kind of want to suck you off,” you grin, lifting one foot out of your shoe to tease your toes across the front of his jeans.

“So… sixty-nine?” Hyuck asks, gently tracing his fingers across your exposed skin, setting tingles of pleasure off to erupt and skitter through your form.

“That would work, but… I guess… I kind of want to lay with my head lolled off the side of the bed, your cock in my mouth, and your fingers pinching at my nipples while I work my own clit at the same time.”

“Jesus,” Hyuck breathes, swallowing thickly as he looks up at you. “How could I say no to that?” 

“Then, when I’m close to cumming, you can eat me out, get me there, then fuck me stupid for your own release.”

“It’s funny,” Hyuck chuckles, “Here I thought I was the horny one calling you and trying to be a creep, but you’re the one with the dirty mouth and the great ideas.”

“Yeah, your whole Black Christmas thing really wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever heard,” you tease.

“How many times do I have to admit it was a shitty plan but I just wanted to get close to you?”

“At least once more.”

“Fine. Now flip around, loll your head off my bed, let me put my cock down your throat and pinch your nipples while you toy with your cute pussy.”

“How do you know my pussy is cute?” you ask. “You haven't even seen it yet.”

“I’ve been imagining, baby, and as a film major, my imagination is pretty fucking good.”

You giggle, getting into position for Hyuck. He stands near your head as you loll it off the side of the bed, and you get a good view of his bulge straining in his jeans.

“You’re excited,” you muse, cupping him through the denim.

“Who wouldn’t be?” he laughs, undoing his button, then the zipper. “Fuck, you look so good laid out like this.”

“Yeah?” You pull the top of your dress down, releasing your boobs.

“Fuuuuuck,” Hyuck groans, pausing his motions on his jeans to reach down and massage your newly exposed breast. “I knew your tits would be perfect.”

You moan at the feeling of his warm hands. His fingers pinch at your nipple and your moan turns into a whine. “Feels good.”

“You feel good,” he counters.

“Get your cock out,” you instruct, feeling impatient.

“Start rubbing your pussy,” Hyuck retorts with a laugh.

“Yes, sir,” you respond teasingly, reaching one of your hands down to your thighs. You slip it under your dress, deciding on taking your panties off alltogether. 

Hyuck continues to massage you as you pull off your thong. 

You can’t help yourself, you toss it at him, and Hyuck lets go of your breast in favour of catching it. “Fuck, these are cute,” he says, admiring your panties.

“I knew I’d be getting laid.”

His tone shifts to the darker, more annoyed side of things. “Yeah?”

“And don’t get all angsty, I knew I’d be fucking you tonight.” 

“That’s what I like to hear,” Hyuck grins, putting your panties in his pocket before he undoes his jeans, shifting them down his thighs.

The fucker isn’t wearing underwear, and you get a good view of his cock for the first time.

“Fuck, dude, you weren’t lying when you said you were thick,” you muse, licking your lips.

“I’d never lie to you about my cock,” he laughs.

You slip one hand between your thighs, stroking your wet core- it’s crazy how turned on you are from this, but part of you thinks this has been building for a while- for a week, actually.

Hyuck strokes his cock, looking down at you. “Ready for this?” he asks.

“Put it in my mouth,” you command, opening wide for him.

“If I’m going to deep, push my thigh,” he tells you as he slips his cock past your lips.

You moan a sound of affirmation around him, immediately beginning to suck on his tip, getting used to his size before you take more.

Hyuck is surprisingly gentle with how much he’s allowing you to take. If you hadn’t been pacing yourself, you’re sure he’d be pacing you of his own accord. 

One of his hands finds your breast again, pinching the nipple and sending jitters of pleasure down to your throbbing core.

You groan louder around him, sucking more into your mouth as you increase the pressure on your clit.

“This is so fucking hot,” Hyuck moans, thrusting gently into your mouth so you can lay flat and still, allowing him to do most of the work while you rub your pussy deliciously.

You can only let out a sound of affirmation as he uses your mouth.

With your eyes closed, you can focus fully on the feeling of pleasure that’s building inside of you. 

When you’d imagined fucking Hyuck for the first time, this hadn’t necessarily been a position at the forefront of your thoughts- but when he’d suggested eating you out, you’d realized this is exactly what you’d wanted. 

You want to give back to him, want to show him how much you’ve appreciated him taking the leap and telling you how he feels- even if it was in some weird, dumb frat boy, phone call kind of way. 

The way he’s pinching your thighs is actually delicious- and then, you hear him spit, and you feel the cool liquid hit your chest. This time, when he rubs his thumb over your nipple, he spreads his spit across your skin, making it even more intense.

“Part of me just wants to cum on these perfect tits,” he admits.

You make a very clear sound of disagreement, and Hyuck pulls his cock out of your mouth. You’d been salivating so much that as he moves away, your own saliva drips back down onto your face from his length. You swallow thickly, finding your voice. “Need you to cum inside of me.”

“Fuuuuck,” Hyuck groans, pinching your nipple even harder. “You and your creampie kink.”

He slips his cock back into your mouth, and you greedily eat him up.

Then he leans further over your body, his fingers joining yours on your core. “You’re so fucking wet,” he muses, pushing your hand out of your way so he can rub your clit, gently fucking your face as he does so.

It’s a shallow face fucking, as he’s bent over your laid down body to access your core, but you don’t mind.

Your eyes are still closed, and you’re enjoying every sensation, bringing your free hands up to your breasts to massage them and pinch your own nipples.

“You look so sexy, want you to cum so bad so I can fuck you stupid,” he tells you, rubbing your clit even harder.

You rut your hips up toward his hand, a non verbal motion that tells him you’re close.

God, it’s like he’s been in your pants before- he knows exactly how to stroke and massage your clit-

“And you’re still sucking me off so good-” he continues. “And grabbing at your tits too, you’re my insatiable little Angel, aren’t you?”

You moan deeply around his cock, and Hyuck fucks you a little harder, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. You gag around him, feeling tears in your eyes.

“Shit, sorry, Angel, fuck, that just felt so good- can I do it again? Can I fuck your throat again?”

You make a sound of affirmation, shocked at how your body had reacted to his cock being fully inside of your mouth. A tingle of excitement had run through you, your nipples getting intensely sensitive, your core throbbing-

Hyuck does it again, hitting the back of your throat, and the same sensation happens. You can feel yourself getting desperately close to the edge, and you hardly have to do anything. Other than pinching your own nipples, Hyuck is the one taking care of you, and you kind of love it.

“I can tell you’re close, Angel,” Hyuck chuckles. “Fuck, gonna cum from me fucking your face and rubbing your clit, right?”

You moan desperately, wiggling your hips. Hyuck reads your cue, rubbing your clit even harder.

Now, you can’t help but pull off his cock, pushing his thigh to give you a bit of space.

“You good?” he asks, motions pausing.

“Yeah,” you tell him, swallowing thickly as you grab his cock to stroke him off. “Just keep- fuck, keep rubbing me like that, I’m so close-”

“Fuck this,” Hyuck mutters, and all of the sudden, he’s pulling away.

You let out a whine- only for him to spin you on his bed. He sinks to his knees, drawing your core to the edge where your head had just been, then he dives in, his lips immediately suctioning around your clit.

Two fingers push into your aching core and you whimper desperately, grabbing at his hair to keep him on your pussy as he works you closer and closer-

“Hyuck-” you cry out, muscles clenching-

One more slurp on your clit has you topping over the edge, entire body electrified by the orgasm surging through you.

You slap a hand over your mouth, trying to muffle your sounds as he works you through your high. He doesn’t quit, doesn’t pull away- he sucks your clit through your entire high, until your thighs are shaking on his shoulders and you’re on the verge of tears.

“Okay-” you whimper, pushing at his head. “Sensitive-”

Hyuck finally lets up. You open your eyes to watch him stand, pulling his fingers from your core and sliding them into his own mouth.

“You taste just like Halloween candy, baby,” he muses, eyes clouded with lust.

“I wanna taste,” you whisper.

Hyuck pushes his jeans completely off, and then he gets on top of you, smashing his lips to your own. The flavour of your pussy is hot on his tongue, and it invades your senses, driving you wild as you kiss him deeper, threading your fingers through his hair.

His cock nudges between your pussy lips as he grinds down against you, rocking his hips.

“Fuck me,” you tell him, moving your mouth to suck on his ear lobe.

“Shit,” Hyuck groans, shivering from the sensation of your tongue on his ear. “Want you naked first.”

He pulls away just long enough to tug your dress up and over your head, then he returns to his spot, his cock rutting against your core once more.

The two of you have been friends forever. Hyuck knows you have an IUD, he’d been there for you when you’d gotten it last year, when you’d just wanted to stay in bed and rot for a few days. There’s no need to discuss birth control or safety- all there’s left to do, is have his thick cock fill you in ways you’ve been wanting all week.

Hyuck adjusts, grabbing his base so he can push his tip into your throbbing hole.

“Fuck,” you whimper in his ear, clutching his shoulders as he pushes an inch into you.

“You good?” he asks, breath hot on your throat.

“So good,” you respond, locking your legs around his hips.

He pushes deeper into your pussy, and your core welcomes him in, walls stretching to accommodate his thick cock. 

Hyuck bottoms out, and you both groan deeply. He forces his lips onto your own again, and it’s a clash of teeth and tongues.

It’s animalistic in the best sort of way- like you’ve both been caged up for as long as you’ve known each other, and you’re finally letting your beasts out to do the most primal thing imaginable.

There are no thoughts in your mind as Hyuck begins to fuck you, there’s only you, him, and this intense feeling of pleasure.

You feel so connected to him- missionary isn’t always the most fun position, but with Hyuck, it feels right. It feels like this was meant to be your first time together, face to face, lip locked, breathing each other in, moaning desperately as he takes you as his own.

“Fuck,” Hyuck groans, gently biting on your lip. “Your pussy is taking me so fucking well- first your mouth, now this- how do you expect me to last long?”

“I don’t,” you giggle. “You made me cum so hard on your tongue, I’m about ready to be filled with your cum and then lay here.”

“I’m gonna cuddle the shit out of you after this.”

“You better,” you grin.

Hyuck smiles against your lips, kissing you again as he fucks you even harder.

The stretch of his girthy cock is unlike anything else- and it feels like heaven as he pounds you into his mattress.

“Rub your clit?” he suggests.

“I can’t- I can’t cum again,” you whimper, still sensitive from your first orgasm.

“I’ll have to train you to cum more after this,” he promises.

You can only grin, drawing his lips to your own again as he uses you to find the ends of his own pleasure.

His whimpering sounds are like music to your ears- fuck, Hyuck is too hot to even imagine. Had this guy really been one of your best friends for this long without you ever exploiting this?

You’re so fucking happy he’d called you and been weird all week- it was the perfect foreplay, and now, you’re completely enraptured by him.

“Shit,” Hyuck groans. 

“You close, baby?” you ask.

“Fuck, call me baby again.”

“Baby,” you whimper, “your cock feels so good in my tight pussy.”

Hyuck moans even louder. 

“Just like that,” you encourage him, tightening your legs on his hips. “Keep doing that- right there-” The tip of his cock is hitting the perfect spots inside of you, and you’re gasping from the feeling, burrowing your face in his throat and panting against his skin.

“Shit, Angel-”

“Cum for me, baby, cum in my pussy,” you urge him.

That’s all it takes for him to explode, letting out a deep groan as he releases deep inside your core, coating your walls with him.

His thrusts falter, his breathing laboured, entire body shivering-

You stroke the back of his head, cooing in his ear, helping him through it until he’s finished, coming to a stop ontop of you and breathing heavily.

“Good boy,” you tease.

Hyuck lets out a deep chuckle, and it turns into a sigh. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“And you’d love that.”

“I would,” he admits. “Okay, fuck, I’m gonna pull out, gonna grab some tissues and sweat pants- we can head to the bathroom down the hall and hopefully clean up a little, then we’re gonna cuddle.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” you grin, laying there as he groans and gets off of you, following through with his intentions.

Soon, cum is being wiped from your pussy and you’re being helped into sweatpants.

The two of you exit his room, and you’re very pleased to see that most of the party is downstairs, leaving his floor pretty vacant. 

You make your way to the bathroom with him, clutching his hand.

Once there, you both clean up, and you listen to Hyuck splash water on his face while you pee, making sure all his cum is out of you.

The two of you make it back to his room, collapsing into bed. He pulls you to his chest, cuddling you close.

“Before I pass out… how did you know it was me on the phone?” he asks.

“Out of everyone in the frat, you idolize Johnny the most. It wasn’t a reach that you’d recreate his Ghostie thing last year. On top of that, you’re a film major, you know horror movies better than anyone else. And, you’re a horny fucker, which is something I’ve always loved about you- I just… I needed you to make a move, which you never really did, until now. It just… made sense that it was you. The way we talk to each other, I could tell it was you from the very first call.”

“Here I was, thinking I was all suave and shit.”

“You were very suave, baby,” you grin, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“Happy Halloween, Angel.”

You giggle. “Happy Halloween.” 

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! find my other nct frat fics (including Ghostie) HERE. I made this meme for this fic because it's so them.

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. “So, I’m gonna finger fuck you stupid,” he explains, pushing his digits back into you. “And then, I’m going to apply pressure, right here-” Hyuck’s hand smooths across your abdomen, even the slightest push makes you feel his fingers deep in your core, and you release a whine of pleasure. “Yeah, you’re going to love this,” he confirms with a grin. 

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, oral ( f receiving), pussy worship, fingering, multiple reader orgasms, overstim, squirting, dirty talk, praise, Hyuck holds the reader down by her abdomen, etc… I petnames: (y/n’s) Angel. (his) Baby. 

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.4k I teaser wc. 220

🌙 staring. Haechan x afab!reader

bonus

You love Hyuck, you do- but sometimes (especially when watching movies) he has this tendency to… well, never shut up.

“Okay so, coming up, when the alien pops out of his body, the director didn’t tell anyone this was going to happen, so when Sigourney Weaver and the others react, it’s genuine shock and surprise-”

You love his facts too, you do… but… sometimes, they get a bit much.

“Baby,” you coo, cuddling closer to your boyfriend, “Can we just… watch the movie?”

“We are watching the movie.”

“I mean… God, I’m going to sound like a bitch, but can we get through like… ten minutes without a fun fact?”

“But… my fun facts are fun.”

“They are, baby, they are,” you assure him, patting his chest, “I just…” you sigh, “ten minutes?”

“I can think of a distraction for my mouth,” Hyuck grins.

Your pussy immediately flutters, picking up on what he’s saying. “Yeah? Don’t you want to watch the movie?”

“I’ve seen it a billion times.” His hand rubs your shoulder and he nuzzles against your cheek, breath hot on your skin. “Come on, let me eat out your pretty pussy. I’ve been wanting to overstim you for a hot minute- I think I could get three or four out of you while you’re watching.”

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[solelifauna]

So this NOT to imply the writing is bad

But so far the Batfam fic as me genuinely shaking in anger , the fact that dick is convinced that y/n as to prove herself to be "worthy" genuinely got to me to the point I need a pallete cleanser

Could we please get a small drabble of reader growing close with one of the "outside" batfam members?

Like maybe Kate(batwoman) and Luke (batwing) because they are under used

Or hell, maybe to really grind the family gears, reader gets close to azrael

(you know Bruce would've able to do shit if reader got close with Kate, she would fucking eat him alive)

Hey, You're all good bro! I also just want to put out that my fic is based on an au! The portrayals of any characters in my fic are based off of their canon and fanon counterparts, just with my own twist. Since this is a darker universe/au, the Bats along with other heroes are going to be a lot more brutal and jaded.

Also love your idea bro. But, I'll do you one better. Constantine. Bruce absolutely can't stand him and the reader being friends with/getting along with him? Oh, that's bound to grind Bruce's gears. It would also be easier to meet Constantine too.

Let's just say one day the reader gets caught up in some Justice League Dark stuff that Constantine is trying to solve. She gets kidnapped by a cult that wants to use her as a sacrifice. I mean, she is a pretty huge target, being the daughter of a Billionaire after all. Anyways, shes kidnapped, nobody is coming to get her, not from her family at least. Long story short, Constantine arrives too late to stop the ritual, but things don't go according to plan for the cultists anyway. Turns out that the person sacrificed wouldn't be killed, but would instead become a vessel.

Great, now you have some old, eldrich being living rent-free in your mind. The being is old, donning the title "Keeper of Hell", but you'll just call it (they? him? her?), Adam. Yeah, Adam wasn't too happy with the name. When Constantine arrives, however, hes pleasantly surprised to find you alive. When he realizes that you, a 15-year-old, now carry the presence and power of an eldritch being older than Gotham itself, he groans while lighting up a cigarette. Looks like he'd have to deal with you now.

He checks over you making sure you have no internal and external injuries before explaining your situation. He feels a little sorry for you, but he is in no condition to train you. He asks around to other JL dark members, hoping to see if anyone is willing to help you control your new powers. He sighs again when nobody steps up to the plate, too busy with their own sidekicks and quests.

Reluctantly, he tells you he'd help you figure stuff out. And there begins the blossoming of the amazing "Grumpy old man and kid they didn't ask for" troupe. When you tell Constantine your name, he blanks, because of course he gets stuck with one of the bat's kids. However, based on your tone of voice when discussing your family (and the way you begged him not to let Bruce/Batman know of your predicament), he's guessing things aren't all too great between you all. Well, thats not his problem, his only job was to train you and make sure you don't end up accidentally killing someone.

Yeah...like that thought process is going to last. Training sessions start out bleak and professional, he's only doing a job. Then as time continues, he finds himself enjoying your company, your enthusiasm to learn and your rambunctious/sarcastic comebacks always have him fighting off a smile. It's been a while since he's had company like this. Soon, you're both going out on missions, and then ice cream breaks afterward. He lets you fall asleep on his shoulder, drooling all over his trench coat after particularly difficult missions and he can't bring himself to mind.

He's fond of you, although he never admits it out loud. It's okay though, because even though he's never said it out loud, his actions speak louder than words. You could feel his love and pride for you. Although he wasn't exactly your dad per se, he was still something to you, maybe the wine uncle? You don't know, and you don't particularly care to put a label on what Constantine was to you, you're just glad that he's there.

Shit hits the fan, however, when one day you decide to go on a solo mission. It's nothing crazy, just getting rid of some poltergeists and low-level demons and shades. Now, were you given permission to go on this mission alone? No, but in a normal teenage manner, you decide to go anyway. Everything was fine, you got rid of all the poltergeists in the area and even some of the shades too! It's all going well until you realize that the demon mentioned before was not as weak as you were told. You gulped when its blood red eyes turned to you.

"Well shit." Constantine was going to kill you.

It immediately lunges at you, you barely rolling out of its sharp claws. You hit it with a couple of spells, causing the demon to roar out in pain, burn marks now littering its side. Its tail whips at you, colliding with your stomach as you fly into a wall with a loud thud. You groan as you pick yourself up, clutching your ribs, each breath a jagged pain that ripples through your chest. Your arm is slick with blood, the gashes from the demon's claws burning as if its very essence were trying to sear your flesh. You grit your teeth and weave another spell, calling on Adam’s power to knock the demon back. This time, a burst of raw energy slams into it, shattering its leg with a sickening crack.

For a brief moment, you think it's over, ready to strike the final blow. But the demon’s leg snaps back into place, bone and flesh knitting together as if the injury had never happened.

“Of course,” you mutter under your breath. “Why would this be easy?”

The demon lunges again, and you’re just a split second too slow. Burning pain flares through your right arm as its claws tear into you, ripping through your flesh like paper. You scream, the sound involuntary, but you push through the pain, refusing to go down without a fight.

Drawing back, you unleash another spell, a sharp projectile of energy aimed at its neck. The demon flinches, letting out a low growl. That reaction—panic—gives you the first glimmer of hope. Its neck. That's its weak spot.

With renewed determination, you gather every ounce of strength you have left. The cuts across your body throb, and your arm feels like it’s on fire, but you push it all aside. You can do this. You have to do this.

You unleash a volley of cutting spells, each one aimed at the demon’s throat. It fights back viciously, throwing you around the room with a strength that makes your vision blur. Every hit you take feels like your bones are splintering, but you keep going. You keep attacking.

Finally, one of your spells strikes true.

The demon lets out a gurgling screech as your spell cuts deep into its neck. Blood—thick and dark—pours from the wound, and it claws at its own throat, choking. Its body spasms violently, and then, as if collapsing in on itself, it begins to disintegrate. In a few seconds, all that’s left is dust.

You stand there, panting, barely able to process the fact that you did it. You won. A grin spreads across your face, and despite the pain radiating from every part of your body, you let out a weak cheer.

But the celebration is short-lived.

Pain cuts through you like a knife, sharp and sudden, reminding you of just how battered you are. Blood is still oozing from the various gashes across your body, and your arm feels like it’s hanging by a thread. You stumble, nearly falling, but catch yourself at the last second.

“Crap… I’m bleeding out,” you mumble, wincing. “Whoops.”

With what little energy you have left, you remember the spell Constantine taught you, the one that would tether you to him no matter where you were. He warned you not to use it unless it was an emergency—and bleeding out from demon-inflicted wounds definitely qualifies.

You lift your shaking hand and cast the spell, a sluggish flick of your wrist sending out a ripple of energy. A portal forms, shimmering and unstable, but functional enough. Without much grace, you stumble through it, disappearing from the demon’s lair.

What you didn’t know, however, was that Constantine was currently in a Justice League meeting.

The first thing you feel is a sudden drop, like the ground beneath you has vanished. You barely register the sensation of falling before you crash, hard, onto something solid. Groaning, you blink through the haze of pain and find yourself sprawled across a massive table.

You can hear voices—muffled, alarmed—but the world is spinning too much for you to focus. All you know is that you're lying on something cold and hard, and you’re absolutely drenched in blood.

Forcing your eyes open, you see several figures standing around you, staring in shock. Your vision is blurry, but you can make out Superman’s cape and Wonder Woman’s armor. You try to process what's happening, but the pain in your arm and ribs keeps pulling you under.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow. Fuckkkk." You cry out.

Suddenly, the scent of smoke fills the air. You don't even have to look to know who it is. Constantine’s familiar trench coat brushes against your arm as he crouches beside you, cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. His eyes flicker with a dangerous mix of exasperation and barely concealed anger.

“What in the bloody fuck, kid?” he snaps, his tone harsher than usual, but the concern underlies his words.

You wince, the situation hitting you all at once. Crap. Now I've got to deal with this.

You muster a weak, sheepish grin, wincing as you turn your head to face him. “Heyyy Constantine, how are ya?”

His brow furrows deeper, and he’s clearly not amused. “What did you do?”

You swallow hard, trying to think of how to explain yourself without getting ripped to shreds—verbally or otherwise. “I—well, promise you won’t get mad?”

“Too late for that, kid. I’m already halfway there,” he growls, his eyes narrowing as he looks over your wounds. “Now get to it.”

You bite your lip, trying to find the least disastrous way to explain. “So… I sorta… mighta… gone on a solo demon-hunting mission,” you blurt out quickly, hoping he’d just move past it.

The way Constantine’s eyes widen, and the immediate twitch in his jaw tell you that he’s definitely not going to move past it.

“You did what?!” His voice rises as he stands up, rubbing a hand over his face. “Oh bloody— I thought I specifically told you not to go by yourself! And this is what happens!”

“Hey, well, I’m alive, aren’t I?” you say, grinning nervously, trying to play it off.

“That’s besides the point!” He throws his arms up, pacing as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. “Bloody hell, I should’ve known better with you kids. I swear, this is why I never—”

Just then, a dark, grim voice cuts through the chaos, and your heart nearly stops.

“Constantine,” Batman’s tone is low, authoritative. “Why is my daughter bleeding on our table?”

Oh no. No, no, no. Not now.

You freeze, your mind going blank as you feel the weight of Batman’s presence at the end of the table. You slowly, painfully turn your head to see him standing there, cape draped over his shoulders, his gaze icy and locked onto you. His usual stoic expression somehow looks even more intense.

“Ah… shit,” you mutter under your breath, groaning inwardly as you realize you’ve just landed yourself in the absolute worst situation imaginable. “I completely forgot he was still here.” Wait, did you say that out loud?

Constantine gives you a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, kid, you did. And now we’ve got more than just your wounds to worry about, don’t we?” He sighs deeply, rubbing his temples, already anticipating the fallout.

Batman’s eyes narrow, arms crossed as he takes a step closer to you, his voice low and dangerous. “Care to explain yourself?”

You’re still bleeding, your head is pounding, and you’re pretty sure at least a few bones are broken, but none of that compares to the fear creeping up your spine as you look up at your father. Your mind races for an answer, but every excuse you can think of feels flimsy at best.

Constantine clears his throat, sensing the rising tension in the room. “Right. Let’s get her fixed up before this turns into an interrogation, yeah? Kid’s bleeding all over the place, and she’s already taken a beating. We’ll save the lecture for later.” He waves his hand, muttering something under his breath as he kneels beside you again.

The tension between Constantine and Batman lingers in the air, thick and heavy, but Batman finally relents. His eyes soften—slightly—as he watches Constantine work to stabilize your injuries with magic.

You can feel yourself growing weaker, the adrenaline finally wearing off as the pain becomes unbearable. Constantine mutters a healing spell, one that slows the bleeding and knits some of the less serious cuts together. It's not perfect, but it’s enough for now.

“I think it’s time to get you all fixed up, huh?” Constantine says softly, his earlier anger tempered by concern as he helps you sit up, his hand firm on your back to support you.

You nod weakly, not daring to meet Batman’s eyes again. You’re in deep trouble, but for now, at least, you’re still breathing. As Constantine gets ready to teleport you to a safer place to heal, you hear Batman’s voice, calm but steely.

“We’re not done here.”

And with that ominous promise hanging in the air, Constantine picks you up, and the world around you shifts once again.

Constantine gently carries you through the halls toward the Justice League’s med bay, muttering curses under his breath with every step. You could feel his frustration radiating off him, and now, in the quiet aftermath of the fight, guilt begins to settle in your chest. The adrenaline from the battle has worn off, and now you're left with the consequences of your reckless actions.

“Hey, Constantine… I—I’m sorry for not listening to you. I really am,” you say, your voice soft and heavy with regret.

He sighs, not looking at you, but his tone is stern. “I’m not going to lie and say I’m not mad at you, kid. You didn’t just ignore my warnings—you put yourself in danger. There are rules for a reason. What if you got seriously hurt and couldn’t cast a spell back to me? Even worse, what if you died or got possessed?”

His words hit you hard, and you wither under the weight of them. You know he’s right. All those rules and restrictions aren’t just him being overprotective or controlling, they’re because he cares. He’s seen the kind of darkness that can swallow people whole, and the thought of that happening to you terrifies him, even if he’ll never say it out loud.

By the time you reach the med bay, the guilt feels like it’s pressing down on you as much as the pain in your ribs. Constantine lowers you onto a cot, tucking you in with a gruff gentleness that only he could pull off. He sits down on the side of the bed, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a quick flick of his fingers, his eyes never leaving yours.

“What I’m trying to say, kid,” he starts, exhaling a cloud of smoke, “is that I care. I care about you, I care about what happens to you. I don’t want—” He pauses, his voice softening. “I don’t want to ever have to find your body one day. So please, from now on, let me know before you do something stupid like this.”

His words hang in the air, raw and unfiltered. You nod, trying to process it all, and then something clicks in your mind. Wait… did he just say let him know?

“Let you know? Does this mean—” Your eyes widen as realization hits you. “Does this mean I can go on solo missions?”

Constantine lets out a resigned sigh. “Yes, yes, you can start going on solo missions—”

“Hell yeah!” you exclaim, sitting up a little too quickly. Pain shoots through your ribs, but you can’t help the excitement bubbling inside you.

“—but, only the ones I sanction and authorize,” Constantine finishes, cutting through your excitement with a stern look. You deflate a little at his words, but it’s still a victory in your book.

Without thinking, you throw your arms around him, ignoring the sharp pain it causes in your ribs. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise I won’t let you down!”

He chuckles, patting your back awkwardly before pulling away. “Yeah, yeah, I know you won’t. Now, lay back down and get some rest. You still have dark and brooding to deal with.” He gestures toward the direction of the meeting room, clearly dreading the inevitable confrontation with Batman. “And by extension, I do too,” he adds with a heavy sigh.

You groan, sinking back into the cot, the exhaustion finally catching up with you. “I don’t know why he even cares. If he did, he would’ve figured this out ages ago.”

Constantine glances at you, his expression softening for a moment. He takes a long drag of his cigarette before speaking. “He cares, kid. He just… doesn’t always show it the way you want him to. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel it.”

You scoff, though part of you knows he’s right. “Yeah, well, doesn’t feel like it.”

Constantine stands, taking one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it into a nearby ashtray. “Doesn’t matter how it feels right now. The Bat’s going to want answers, and if I know him, he’s going to want to have a very long talk with you. You’re not out of the woods yet.”

You wince at the thought of the upcoming conversation, knowing that Batman’s interrogation will be thorough and far less forgiving than Constantine’s.

“Great,” you mutter, closing your eyes and sinking deeper into the cot. “Just what I need.”

Constantine gives you a small, almost affectionate smile before turning to leave. “Get some rest, kid. You’ve earned it. I’ll deal with the big bad Bat for now.”

And with that, he walks out, leaving you alone in the med bay. As much as you’re dreading what’s to come, you can’t help but feel a sense of relief. Despite the pain and the mistakes you made, you know that Constantine’s got your back. And, maybe, just maybe, Batman does too, even if it’s buried under a mountain of brooding and silence.

For now, though, you let the exhaustion pull you under, trusting that everything else can wait until tomorrow.

-

As you rest, your body finally succumbing to the exhaustion, your breathing evens out and your mind drifts into sleep. The med bay is quiet, sterile, but the tension in the air lingers, waiting for the inevitable. Eventually, a dark, caped figure glides into the room silently, his form casting long shadows across the walls.

Batman—no, Bruce—stands over you, his sharp eyes tracing every bruise, every cut that mars your face. His jaw clenches as a million thoughts swirl in his head, none of them offering any comfort.

What the hell happened to you? Why are you and Constantine so close? How did you even know Constantine? How much had he missed—how little attention had he been paying—to not notice any of this?

Bruce sighs, a deep and frustrated sound. He removes his cowl, setting it on the side table with a weary hand. Without it, he seems less intimidating, less imposing. He stares down at you, seeing the cuts and bruises marking your skin, but what hits him harder is the way your face, in sleep, is still so achingly young. You're his daughter, and yet it feels like you're a stranger to him now.

How did you get so far away?

He knows the answer. The fault lies with him, with the choices he made, the excuses he repeated to himself—telling himself he was too busy, telling himself he would check in later. Later never came, though, and the space between you widened, until it wasn't just him you were drifting away from, but your brothers too.

Bruce noticed the way your brothers treated you, the harsh words, the cold shoulders. He saw the distance, but he justified it, telling himself it was sibling rivalry or something that would pass. He didn't step in. And now, as he looks at you lying there, bruised and battered from a fight he wasn’t even aware of, the reality sinks in: he has no excuse.

With a heavy sigh, Bruce reaches out, his rough but careful hand carding gently through your hair. The gesture is tender, hesitant, as if he's not sure whether he has the right to touch you like this anymore. But as his fingers comb through your hair, you stir in your sleep, a quiet murmur escaping your lips as you unconsciously lean into his touch. It's such a sweet, innocent moment, and for a brief second, Bruce allows himself to feel the warmth of it.

But the moment is fleeting.

He feels the presence before he sees it, the unmistakable smell of cigarette smoke filling the room. His jaw tightens as his hand stills. He doesn’t turn right away, but his voice cuts through the silence.

“Constantine,” Bruce says, his tone gruff even without the cowl to disguise it.

Constantine steps into the room more fully, leaning against the wall, a half-smoked cigarette between his lips. He regards Bruce with that same nonchalance he carries everywhere, though there's a flicker of something else in his eyes—something more cautious.

"Thought you’d still be brooding over in the corner," Constantine says, taking a drag of his cigarette. His eyes drift to you, lying peacefully on the cot. “Didn’t expect to see this version of you.”

Bruce doesn’t respond right away. He pulls his hand back from your hair, his gaze hardening. "What happened?" The question is direct, but underneath it, Constantine can hear the concern, the frustration Bruce doesn't voice aloud.

"She went off on her own," Constantine mutters, taking another drag before blowing out a cloud of smoke. "Went after a demon. Got roughed up pretty bad, but she handled it in the end. Strong kid. Stubborn too. Wonder where she gets that from, eh?"

Bruce's eyes narrow. "And you let her?"

"Let her?" Constantine laughs, a short, sharp sound. "Mate, I didn’t let her. She went behind my back, just like she’s gone behind yours for who knows how long. Difference is, I’m the one she actually came back to.”

That lands like a punch to Bruce's gut. He doesn’t react visibly, but Constantine can see the tension in his posture.

"I didn't know she was…" Bruce starts, then stops, shaking his head. The words feel inadequate. "I didn't know she was involved with this stuff, i didn't even know she was a meta. Or that she knew you."

"Yeah, well, she found her way to me," Constantine says with a shrug, stubbing out his cigarette on the wall. “And she's not a meta by the way, she's a vessel for some eldritch being"

A vague expression of surprise appears on Bruce's face.

"I don't blame you, mate. I was surprised to find her alive afterwards. Not just anyone survives that kind of transformation, she's strong.”

Bruce crosses his arms, his gaze flickering between you and Constantine. “I know she’s strong.”

“Do you?” Constantine raises an eyebrow, the challenge clear in his tone. “Because she’s been running herself ragged trying to prove it. To you. To herself. And, hell, maybe to me too, but at least I see it.”

There’s silence for a moment. Bruce clenches his jaw, turning to look at you again, sleeping soundly despite the tension in the room. He knew Constantine was right. You'd been pushing yourself, fighting to show that you didn’t need them—that you were strong enough on your own. And he had let you. He'd let you because he didn't even care to notice.

Constantine sighs, sensing the weight of the silence. “Look, I didn’t come here to throw stones. But you’ve got to get your shit together with her. She’s tough, but she’s still a kid, and she’s your kid. She needs you.”

Bruce doesn’t answer, but his silence speaks volumes. He watches you, the soft rise and fall of your chest, and feels the regret gnawing at him.

“I’ll handle it,” Bruce finally says, though the words feel hollow.

Constantine gives him a long look, then nods. “You better. Because if you don’t, she’ll be right back with me..”

With that, Constantine pushes off the wall, flicking away the last of his cigarette. “I’ll check in on her later. Try not to fuck this up, mate.” And with one last glance at you, Constantine leaves, the tension in the room ebbing with him.

Bruce remains, standing over you, his mind a whirlwind of regret, guilt, and the desire to fix what’s been broken for far too long. He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead—something he hasn’t done in what feels like years—before stepping back, pulling the chair beside your bed to sit vigil over you.

He’s still not sure how to bridge the gap, but for now, he stays. It’s a start.

Well, thats all folks! I really enjoyed writing this au, so thanks for the idea! Maybe ill even make a pt. 2 to this? Who knows? Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it.

[screampied]

‘ LOVE ME, LOVE ME [NOT] ! ’

ᡴꪫ‎ synopsis. on your life, you swore you hated him. that stupid smirk that curled against his lips, you loathed toji fushiguro. but how does a single kiss change that? is this hatred you feel—or is it romantic denial?

wc. 8.4k

warnings. fem! reader, arranged marriage au, slow burn (?), sharing one bed, unrequited love, degradation, praise, edging, size difference, fingering, semi public, implied multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, impact play.

“ya just gonna stand there or,” toji raises a brow, and you gave him the biggest glare imaginable. it was late at night, about a quarter past eleven and you were exhausted.

you had a long day, and the last thing you’d wanna come back home to was a guy on your bed. toji was sprawled all out, stretched all over your side of the bed, and he gives you a teasing grin. “so y’er the brat i’m supposed to marry.”

“you’re not sleeping here.” you grouse, making an attempt to shove him but it gets literally nowhere. toji stays put, glancing up at you and his facial expression was purely amused.

he hums. “oh? says who?”

“says me. now move before i—,” you chastise, crawling into the bed to move him before with quick reflexes, he gets ahold of you — and stupidly, you fall right into his chest, a sudden oof sound departing from your lips before he snickers.

“now we’re both scared, princess,” toji rolls his eyes, and you’re all propped up against his chest. he was so warm, and oh how he smelled so good..

toji’s got the biggest smirk on his lips as you’re awkwardly laid on his lap. the both of you share an intense gaze that felt like forever - and once he finally breaks the silence, he mutters, “quite a brat but i gotta admit, y’er real pretty up close.”

you shift your eyes away, and you let off a soft gasp once a hand of his brushes against your waist. toji continued to speak, and his tone was a bit more pitchy and stern. “glare all ya want dollface, ‘m not moving.”

“fucking bastard..” you grumbled underneath your breath, crawling off from his lap before he pulled you back into him. 

“who’s gonna marry this bastard though,” and then he clicks his tongue, adding a snarky, “uh huh. exactly. but at least come up with better insults than that,” and it’s a long awkward pause. toji finally looks up at you again, his tantalizing grin fading before darkened irises of his lock onto yours.

it was intimate.

the eye contact was, strangely sensual… you wanted to know more about this man. 

you’ve heard countless stories, especially the ones where he was known for being notorious but you’ve always pondered. out of any random guy, you got paired up to be betrothed to the infamous toji fushiguro. 

he ends the silence with … a deep kiss. 

everything moved at such a speed, you didn’t even realize you were kissing him until you felt his tongue run down yours. he had such a flavor, your eyes briefly closed, returning the gesture and he cups yours face. a low grunt could be heard from him, and despite it being seconds…toji was definitely addicted to your sweetened taste. 

it took you a long moment before you pull away, strands of spit departing and you stutter out a timid, “w-what was that for?”

“why’d you kiss back?” he eyes you down, and he brings a thumb up to your lips, swiping against it and it was unintentionally sexy—toji stares down at your lips, as if he wanted to kiss you again, but his eyes then flicker back up towards you. “if we’re gonna be tied together, you should know how to kiss,” only to then he replies with a sassy, “…you could use some work though.”

“…shut up,” you groused, a cute pout forming on your lips as you scoot away to shove a pillow at him. “whatever. i’m going to bed. we have stupid rehearsal tomorrow.”

toji runs a hand through his hair as he snickers, watching your frustrated obvious embarrassed state. you reach to turn off the lamp, getting comfortable underneath the fat silk covers. 

“aren’t ya gonna ask for a goodnight kiss?”

“fuck you, toji.”

“heh. one day, girl.”

with furrowed eyebrows, you didn’t get what he meant, and once you did—you were glad it was pitch dark so he couldn’t see your visible abashed expression. 

momentarily, the two of you ended up sleeping. you’re all the way on the other side of the bed, yet due to toji being a rough sleeper apparently, he finds himself getting close to you.

regardless of being crazy in bed whilst in a deep slumber, he surprisingly didn’t snore. 

you found yourself tucked right in his strong arms. you felt safe—secure. leaning into his warmth, you suddenly feel a cold sweat wash over you. 

beat after beat, your heart raced and what your mind processed. it felt so surreal.

you felt a mixture of both, hot…cold…. a plethora of feelings. 

once your eyes shot open, your first reaction was to wake up toji. of course, you’d ignore your feelings and go back to sleep. but something deep inside you was telling you, you need him. 

“wha—” he grumbles, his tone was hoarse due to him waking up abruptly, it was around probably three thirty in the morning. he was about to reply with a usual teasing remark before he spots you, hovering over him with tears stinging in your eyes. “hey. hey…what’s the uh… matter?”

his tone suddenly went tender, you stare at toji, observing his face with blurred eyes from the tears. your eyes met towards his relaxed face, his perfectly structured chin, even his slanted scar that ran across a part of his lip. 

“i— it was…” you sniffle, but for some reason, the words got trapped into your throat. sealed, preventing you from muttering another word. 

“shh…it’s okay, it’s okay,” he repeats, bringing you close towards his chest. you tried to relax within his grip, he’s so gentle and drags a hand down your back soothingly. “easy, girl. i’m…here.”

judging from the continuous pauses in toji’s tone, you could tell he didn’t know what to say — what to do, but he knew he had to at least hold you.

you felt insanely vulnerable, all to a man you’ve only known for maybe what…a few hours. 

his voice, it was relaxing and soft, despite its roughness. the rhythm his hand had, stroking back and forth against your back, you let off a low sigh. his cologne wafts against your nose before you slowly look up at toji, and he’s already staring at you. 

“…you good?” he mutters, an eyebrow slightly raising. 

“y-yeah,” you mumble, a tiny pout glossing on your lips again. it was cute — he was about to comment on it, yet you watch him start to shift away. you wrap your arms around his waist, briefly doing a head shake. “stay still, toji.”

“ooh. first name basis now?” he hums, fully complying with your request. his thumb lightly grazes near your back before you feel his chest jerk a bit from a chortle. “but okay, we can stay like this princess.”

you felt your face get hot at the pet name, why—?

just him calling you ‘princess’ was enough to make you feel such intensity. he brushes a hand back and forth swiftly. it was tender, you let off a soft sigh, any signs of nervousness leaving you completely. 

“…don’t call me that.” you grumbled, your eyes shifted up at him and he rolls his eyes. 

“and yet y’er still talking,” he chastised, this time a pout forming on his lips, it was cute.

the way the scar that ran across the edge of his mouth tugged together solely from the movements of his facial expressions.

toji catches you staring at him before he breathes out, “i don’t even get a thank you,” he nudges you, an attempt to lighten the mood—to perhaps earn out a smile out of you, and that he did. “get some sleep though, brat. got me hugging you, tch.”

it was a drag. reality coming to you that not only had you have to marry this man, but you had to live with him also..

multiple days passed, the two of you practically pretended each other didn’t exist.

toji was almost always working . .

albeit, he’s never told you specifically what his occupation was.

you knew he was a feared man—for whatever strange reason, but you decided to not comment on it. perhaps that was a good thing. 

sooner rather than later, your wedding date was approaching. everything felt like it was going at a rapid speed.

toji was, well . . . a private man to say the least. you tried to get to know him, but he was like an empty canvas. there was something he didn’t want to tell you. 

ex-wife, ex-girlfriend..? 

you couldn’t help but ponder. sure, he was an attractive man. quite very much easy on the eyes. such striking features, heavily intimidating. if only he didn’t have such a huge ego. he was practically insufferable to live with. the two of you were total opposites in terms of personality. 

he’d often tease you every chance he got, poking fun at you for even the smallest things. 

“…wow,” toji muttered, leaning back against his chair. the moment you stepped into the room in nothing but a pretty silk dress, his eyes roamed and roamed. 

it was a pretty long a-line dress. it was perfectly sewn on, hugging your curves tightly, the sash that ran across your waist. toji for once was speechless, his eyes lingered towards your entire frame. your figure—it was forever gorgeous in his eyes. for a moment, you saw a sudden look in his irises, as if he’s been in this moment before. 

he has. judging from his past, but you didn’t know that. 

toji dismisses a sudden flashback before focusing his attention back towards you, standing up from his chair, uttering a, “c’mere. i wanna get a closer look.”

“was that a good wow or a bad wow?” you puff out, sliding your feet across the floor towards him. you swallow to yourself, can’t help but feel a certain butterfly stir up inside you.

toji’s eyes were on you the entire time. his eyes linger down your body and seeing how the way it fit perfectly before he mutters. 

“it’s whatever you want it to be, princess.”

“why can’t you just reply like a normal person?” you furrow your eyebrows—visibly trying to hide your embarrassment.

toji snickers. “you look gorgeous,” and he looks as if he wants to touch you, but he halts, tugging on his tie before trying to maintain a neutral gaze. “is this the one?”

“yeah,” you mutter, and that’s when for a brief moment. the two of you just stand there. toji’s hands were buried in his pockets, and he’s got that annoying simper resting on his face.

this man.

it was as if his irises were a mystery — pools of complete mystery. you could never read him. 

toji brings a hand towards your face, and he strokes your chin with the pad of his thumb. “you know,” he starts in a rough voice, feeling how claustrophobic it almost was . . the two of you cramped up in a dressing room like this, you tried to dismiss any dirty thoughts. “i keep noticing how bad you are at eye contact, princess. you have a habit of staring at my lips instead of my eyes. 

“…shut up.” you mumble, practically leaning into his touch despite your stubbornness. he smiles, derisively raising a brow. 

“if ya want another kiss from y’er husband, just say that.” toji murmurs, his strokes went towards your lips. he’s the one who looks at your lips this time, almost witnessing the whine that was about to leave your mouth. 

it suddenly felt hot . . . scorching. 

the gaze he had on you, such a meaningless yet seductive look. as if he was forevermore captivated by your beauty, and in this case he was.

“…toji,” was all you let out, a soft pout going against your glossed lips. he looked so handsome up close. darkened strands of hair that ran down his eyes briefly, it was ruffled. 

you loathed feeling like this, that stare he gave you. it started to make you feel a certain type of way, between your legs.

“yeahh?” he slyly remarks, leaning up close. just inches apart, he was so close to kissing you. you smelled mint with a slight tang of alcohol run on his breath, he knew what he was doing. “needy girl. look at that pout, so cute.”

“kiss me, toji.” you breathe, not even intending to sound so whiny.

it killed you, seeing how desperate you were for another one of his kisses. you craved it though. the way whenever his lips would hit against yours, it felt you were the only person in the world. he knew that’d be the only way to shut you up. 

“look at you using your words,” he hums, sliding his thumb against your bottom lip for a final time. toji then leans in, tilting your chin a bit and his lips gently press against yours.

your lashes fluttered, feeling a certain feeling stir up inside you. you couldn’t describe it . . . again, this man. 

you made it known to yourself that you wouldn’t get like this for anyone. feel this …. weak. yet with toji, he had you wrapped around his finger. 

it was that easy. 

just from a kiss. 

a stupid kiss. 

toji grips your chin, and you move back until you’re pinned against the wall. the pure feeling of the cold mirror frame skimming against your back. 

toji grunts in your mouth, his tongue colliding against yours throughout each second. his hands started to roam up your body, as if he was waiting to touch on you.

graze his fingers down every inch of your pretty physique. you moan, feeling a rough hand of his slowly lift your leg up. 

the soft fabric of your dress ruffles against his thigh, and your leg ends up wrapping around him.

he chuckles, deepening the kiss, you felt the very edge of his scar tickle against you. “fuck, y’er something else,” he says between kisses, and he feels you tugging on his tie. 

in the background played some catchy tune — a random popular song, you felt the warmth of toji’s body grind against you.

so incredibly good, the tips of your ears started to heat up. his hand trails lower and lower until your breath hitched, feeling the tips of his fingers dance against your skin.

“you do realize we’re in public, right sweetheart?” toji whispers, breaking his lips away to kiss near your neck. he smelled intoxicating, a perfect mixture of cologne—surprisingly not a cheap kind. it smelled worth a hefty value, and it made you gnaw on your lip. “are you-”

“you talk too much,” you chastise, grabbing onto his wrist. he snickers, watching you take a hold of his grip. you drag his hand between your legs, letting off a puff. “i just—i don’t care. i want you to touch me. you— you tease me all day, ‘n i- i just want—”

toji stares at you, you’re still making his hand go down until it’s right between your thighs. raising up your dress that wasn’t paid for, his fingers brush against your panties. “…oh,” he purrs, arched brows pressing together. “you’re kinky. but okay, if my pretty wife wants me to touch her, then i’ll touch her.”

“i’m…not your wife, idiot.” you pant. 

“don’t worry, girl. you will be,” he mumbles, bringing his lips towards the side of your neck.

he sinks his teeth gently, nipping at the sensitive skin to hear you moan.

you were so close to him—the way his touch sent you into a complete frenzy. toji slides your panties to the side, and you let off a whine, feeling him feel the slickness that stuck against your folds. “aw. were you wet this entire time we were out?”

you felt your face heat up. oh, you were extremely embarrassed. 

he had you like this, soaking wet. you couldn’t even explain why. this man had you like this… so feral. 

to think you were gonna walk down the aisle with him pretty soon. at this particular point, you didn’t care about feelings. by now, you weren’t even sure of what you felt towards toji. you just knew that you wanted him to touch you. 

“so impatient,” toji murmurs, making you lean back against the wall. he was such a tease, staring daggers, sexual daggers right at you.

toji stares as you tug on his pants, you don’t even know what came of you—it was as if your body craved him. “we just had one more store, princess. you couldn’t wait?”

“…toji,” you’d pout. pulling on the thin fabric of his tuxedo. he looked so handsome. you only started to imagine what he’d look like once the two of you officially got hitched. he raises his brows, leaning towards you before you gasp once he brushes a finger towards your exposed clit. “i- i can’t fucking wait anymore. please, just—”

“watch that mouth of yours,” toji sneers, and he cuts you off with a deep kiss. 

you moan, feeling entirely hot once he slowly inserts a finger inside. “nasty girl. walkin’ around this wet,” he’d grumble, your arms went over his neck as you bit your lip. “easy. relax, thereeee we go. good girl,” and his praises went straight towards your cunt.

he had such a way with words, his fingers had quite a length to it not to mention. all throughout, you felt him prod against your walls and you whined for more. “i knew we’d get along.”

“s-shut up.”

“s-shut uppp,” he mocks your tone, a raspy snicker following. he grins at the cute scowl that went on your lips before you mom again. he reached so deep, and then he added another finger inside. toji watched as you glossed lips parted, you were heavily panting. “such a mess down here. just filthy.”

he was so gentle with his strokes—a simple bowling ball grip that made your maw practically drop. it felt so good, gingerly caressing your clit. your chest heaved and heaved, and you started to whimper against his ear. 

he loved whenever you did that. the sweet pitches your voice would make, it was almost melodic.

“f-fuck,” you’d sigh, trying to focus on your breathing patterns. you had to remind yourself the two of you were in public.

in a secluded dressing room.

the circular motions he created made you practically squeeze your plushy thighs together. he was so good with his hands, it made your eyes start to roll back dramatically. “right there, t-toji.”

“squeeze around me so good—wonder how you’d be with me doin’ the real thing, princess.” and the way he’d do that thing, pitching his voice into a husky rasp. it made you feel a surge of tingles coarse all throughout your body. you were essentially hugging him, your unbought dress lazily pulled up. “tell me how’s it feel, talk to me.”

his words… it was so sensual, he goes right up against your ear as he spoke. licking against your earlobe before it turns into brief nibbling. he knew what he was doing, getting you all hot and bothered.  

you swallowed thickly, and he has a perfect tempo. not to fast, not too slow. by this point, both of his fingers that was shoved into your pussy was covered in your sweetened slick. 

“good, f-feels good,” you’d whine out, pant after pant. your breathing became erratic—mind swollen with nothing but filthy thoughts. just the sheer reality of being fingered like this, it made you a little wet. no, it made you incredibly wet. 

toji’s stimulating your clit, his formation was forever euphoric.

it was like a drug, the way you wanted his fingers slid in and out. he purposely grew quiet so you could hear the sloppy squelches your cunt made in retaliation. “listen how she just… talks back, no fuckin’ manners just like you.”

your bottom lip quivered, his dirty talk… 

each word going straight between your thighs. with your back arching, you felt yourself clamp around him, a big squeeze.

it was like with the tips of his fingers, he knew how to reach every crevice, everywhere inside your folds. “the way y’er voice always gets high once i get to this spot. such a sensitive baby.”

curling and curling, toji’s fingers was going in and out of you. by this point, you were completely drenched. he was using his entire wrist, you felt the cold hand of his watch skim against your skin in the process. “i-i’m getting close, toji fuckkk.”

“yeah. bet you are,” he nips at your neck, speeding up his fingers just a bit. you felt dizzy, forevermore trapped in your mind—chasing a powerful incoming orgasm. it was no denying, your legs were just trembling by this point. he knew the anatomy of your pussy perfectly, as if he was skilled in it professionally. “i want you to do somethin’ for me.”

“huh?” you whined, still propped up against the mirror. he’s still trapped with your arms wrapped around his neck, right between your legs just barely. 

toji sneaks a kiss near the inner part of your neck before mumbling, “i want you to make a mess on me. can ya do that?”

as your eyelids droop, becoming lower and lower, you pathetically nod, whimpering out a sweet shaky, “okay, okay.”  

toji felt the texture inside of you…easily stretching your walls a bit with just two slender fingers. his fingers was thick though, your mouth hung open with not even coherent words coming out. just cacophonies of, “toji,” and “f-fuckk,” with many others. 

he kept a gaze on you the entire time, he wasn’t sure by this particular point what he felt towards you. the noises that escaped from your lips, he wanted to hear more of it, maybe even drag out a sweet scream from you. 

“t-toji, ‘s gonna…” you slur out your words, sounding like you were running a marathon.

he maneuvers circles against your clit with two fingers, tickling against your opening and you let off a whimpering, “oh my god, oh my g-godddd.”

“…y’er so loud,” he rasps, leaning in to shut you up with a kiss. it was passionate—a tang of sloppiness to it. his tongue ran against yours, and you felt a coil within you abruptly snap. 

once you orgasm, it was far more than you expected. because you felt even more soaked. you shivered, a muffled orgasm pouring into his lips before toji slows his fingers down. 

pulling away, he’s watching with sly eyes of the stringy cobweb of saliva depart from both lips, he huffs. “girl, did you just squirt on me?”

your nerves, you whimpered once he slide a thumb against your pulsating nub, taking his fingers out to gawk at it. how you effortlessly coated his fingers with your slick. you didn’t reply, you’re in the midst of catching your breath before toji hums.

“yeah. you fuckin’ squirted on me,” he answers his own question, about to lean in for another kiss. yet that’s when the door knocks obnoxiously. 

it’s an older lady, and she’s got quite the vexed voice. “excuse me sir, the store’s closed. can you two please—”

“yeah, yeah we’re coming,” toji rolls his eyes, and you’ve never been more embarrassed.

he peppers a kiss against your forehead before glancing down at your dress with a smirk. “you’ll be a doll and pay for that, right? it’s a little damaged but i'm sure you’ve got that covered, baby.”

cheap bastard. 

it’d always be moments like this between you two. except, the both of you never went all the way. toji liked to take his time with you. he wanted to make you wait—it irked you. 

he was a professional at getting on your nerves, making your eyes roll to the very depths of your skull.

it was like the more time you spent with him, the more you started to feel this … feeling. 

you didn’t know what it was. you couldn’t describe it. all you knew was that it felt weird.

not so much in a weird way, more of a … natural way. you can’t remember the last time you’ve felt like this. 

perhaps calling it love was foolish, then again you hated not being able to describe this feeling. whatever it was. 

toji started to grow attached to you — whether he was too stubborn to realize it or not. 

it would be small things, calling you while he was at work just to tease you, help you get things from the top shelves… feeling him against you, just fantasizing about that made you start to throb. 

preparations for the wedding felt like it was taking centuries — everything had to be perfect.

eventually, you picked out a dress. it fit perfectly, and toji hasn’t seen it yet. 

sooner than you knew it, it was the day of the wedding.

the arranged marriage.

truth be told, you still barely knew the gist of everything. it’s probably been about a good half month before the day eventually comes. the two of you ended up going separately, not together. 

alas, you and toji end up running into each other near the entrance of the venue. 

“toji,” you’d mumble, words being caught way back in your throat.

he was suited up, so handsome. slicked down with a tuxedo. with hands buried in his pockets, his head was slightly tilted down as he gifted you with the same gaze. “we aren’t supposed—we aren’t supposed to see each other before the ceremony,” and your words trail the more he trods towards you. “it gives us bad luck.”

“hey girl,” he murmurs in that familiar rasp. his naturally ruffled hair was slightly slicked back, a few strands poking through. “you look like my wife already,”

and you felt your heart race, hearing him say that, ‘my wife.’ it made your eyebrows slightly curl in puzzlement before he strokes your cheek. “i’ve been meaning to see you anyway. this wedding is gonna last us all day.”

you stare up at him, a tiny glimmer in your eye before breathing. “…well yeah, the after party and everything. why do you-”

“the more i stare at your dress, the more i wanna tear it off,” he uttered, his voice pitches a deep low. he swipes his thumb directly next to your chin. leaning into his touch, you returned the same eye contact, and he sighs. “i don’t want any other eyes seeing this but me.”

“so take it off then,” you mutter, watching the scar slanted against toji’s lips curl into a playful grin. “it’s about time, toji.”

with an eye roll, he grabs your wrist lightly, pulling you into one of the fitting rooms of the venue.

scattered everywhere was a bunch of preparations for the wedding. multiple dresses, cakes, and even presents. yet, the two of you could care less about that. 

“we gotta work on that annoying ass attitude of yours,” he breathes, not wanting to waste a split second. toji lifts you up, moving you towards the table. you wrap your arms around him before gasping. 

“don’t ruin my dress, toji. ‘n ‘i’m not gonna pay for it again.” you say against his ear, hearing him smack his lips in reprisal. 

“yeah yeah. i won’t ruin it, baby,” he rolls his eyes, carefully reaching beneath your back.

he slowly unzips it, watching the fabric drag down your chest before you’re almost exposed. his eyes roamed, making you feel a sudden heat pulse between your legs. he had one of the most intimidating gazes ever known to man. 

once toji helps you fully get out of your dress.

his eyes avert towards between your thighs, squeezed tightly shut. “…girl,” he rasps, making your legs part briefly before flickering his eyes right back towards you. “were you really gonna walk down the aisle with no panties? 

“i— i forgot,” you huff out, running a few fingers through his hair. if you weren’t mistaken, you could hear a purr come from toji’s lips. the way you massaged his scalp with such ease, your touch was everlastingly gentle. “i was rushing earlier and-”

“nah, you didn’t forget. you did this for me, didn’t you princess?” he whispers, leaning in to plant a kiss near the inner part of your neck. 

his lips were so soft.

with a loud clank towards the wooden floor, your heels fell to the ground with an abrupt thud. toji was so touchy, his rough textured hands wandered all over your body. such shivers coming out of you. “y-yes,” you’d drag out, desperately longing for him to just be inside you already. 

you’ve fantasized about this particular moment in more ways than you could count…

likewise, you were far too embarrassed to flat out ask toji to please you.

except for the moment between the two of you at the mall, that was the closest you’ve ever gotten. as mentioned before, he liked making you wait. he figured the wedding day would be the best day to show you how to deal with a real husband. 

in more ways than one… but specifically - the bedroom.

he couldn’t keep his hands off you, it was impossible. you took the chance to gnaw on your lip, feeling him touch all over you. such rough hands, yet so tender. he starts off with kisses near your lips, chaste ones near the corner of your mouth, beneath your chin, your neck…

as he inched lower and lower, you intake a sharp breath, feeling a few strands of his hair tickle against your skin.

“pretty body all jus’ for me,” he’d murmur, an almost coo escaping from his lips. you’re propped up on the table before toji sprawls your legs apart. he leers at the way your legs, the fishnets that purely decorated it. 

with his teeth, he starts to tear them off before you whine. “toji— i have to keep these.”

“y’er dress is long, baby. no one’s gonna be looking at my girl under here,” he replies, such a deep tone hovering underneath his wordings by defeault. 

again, the way he addressed you as ‘his girl,’ it pathetically made you throb. a weird feeling throbbed inside of your heart ; the same feeling you always failed to describe. 

to think you weren’t so fond of this egotistical arrogant man, and now—you were happily drenched for him.

time felt like it went by so fast. those two months you’ve gotten to know this man felt like two seconds. mayhaps that unfamiliar that continued to reside in your chest was…love? 

just imagining that made you almost gag, but perhaps that was it.

could it be that you were falling for a guy you were arranged to spend the rest of your life with? you remember a conversation with toji, telling him that you had a bit of commitment issues. 

so did he. 

that caused the two of you to bond, and toji even opened up to you a bit. about his ex-wife.

he was really selective with his words, but whenever he spoke about her, his eyes always lit up.

toji knew what it was like to be in love already. you didn’t. 

“always trapped up in those pretty thoughts of yours, huh,” toji snaps you back to reality.

he’s made sure not to ruin your fishnets, swiftly peeling them down with his teeth before you don’t even realize he’s already got you more soaked than you were before.

your cunt drooled for him—aching for more of his touch. the second you felt his breath fan against your entrance, he’s toying with you by blowing against your pussy. 

you whined, starting to pant with your eyes flickering straight down towards him. “f-fuck. our marriage’s gonna get bad luck, toji.. wasn’t supposed to see me y-yet.”

“i’m gonna marry you tonight, princess,” he reassures you. and for a split second, he has this stare as if he’s entirely joking with you.

however, his tone always sounded deadly serious. 

that rasp to it made you squeeze your thighs shut together in desperation. “nothin’ is gonna happen. we won’t get bad luck.”

and you moaned, watching him smear a thumb down your swollen clit.

it’s pulsing, and he doesn’t wait to lick a long stripe against your folds. his tongue made you swallow, already your legs started to quaver. 

he lays the base of his tongue flat against your pussy, and you bite your lip, feeling the edge of his scar swipe by your entrance. 

you liked that, a lot. a bit more than you should because he notices. gathering a wad of spit before he spat on your glistening folds. “ooh. ya like feelin’ my scar like that, princess? how’s it feel when i rub against you like this?”

“good...goooood,” you whined, burying your fingers into his hair. dragging him all across your folds, he laps up your slick that started to run down his chin before you whimper. “your scar. it-tickles, toji.”

his lashes close for a brief moment, and you moan once he slides a finger inside, gingerly easing his way inside, feeling you squeeze around him. “aw,” 

he purrs lightly, pressing a teasing chaste kiss alongside your clit. lowering his tongue, he makes sure it’s going right underneath your sensitive nub. 

toji was precise - his tongue knew every direct spot to make you sob out his name.

you didn’t even bother being quiet this time—you whimpered and mewled until your pretty voice was strained. “keep lookin’ away ‘n i’ll stop givin’ this pussy attention.”

you’re panting, heaving and heaving as your eyes trail back down towards toji.

the tip of his nose prods up against your folds, the fact that he’s nose deep…not a care in the world. 

his tongue continues to loll out, lapping up every drop of your sweetened slick. it carelessly coated his mouth, the few specks of facial hair that was barely visible. it ran all over the under part of his chin. such a messy eater. but you and him both knew that. 

“eyes down here, yeahhh. that’s it,” he coos, applying extra amounts of pressure with his tongue. he lies it flat down, and he was so sloppy.

gathering up strings of his saliva, flickering his eyes back towards you to give you a cocky grin. “pull on my hair some more…fuck, jus’ like that. yank it.”

toji gets hard feeling you roughly grip onto his darkened black locks. it gets tangled within your fingers, and you start to briefly massage his scalp, earning a low groan from him. 

toji could eat you out for hours, without a single care in the world—just his tongue between your legs, eating you out like a starved man.

as his tongue moves upwards, you whimper out a “s-shit,” that echoes throughout the room. his thumb skims against your entrance before you feel his tongue slide its way upwards, backwards. an entire zigzag of letters. “oh my goddd, toji. ‘m gonna c-cum.” 

“such a nasty fiancé. was about to walk down the aisle with no panties. the fuckin’ nerve,” he grumbles. 

a pout curls against your lips once you feel his tongue slow down.

gradually, you start to move your hips by his face and he shoots you a glare that makes you pulse. toji breaks away, pressing kisses near your inner thighs now. he’s taking attention away from your clit, and you whimper. “awh. what’s with the pout? don’t like waiting huh?”

“t— toji…” you weren’t fond of being edged, of waiting. toji raises his brows, a thumb toying with your clit, stroking it before even giving it a sweet nibble. “p-please. don’t kiss my thighs, jus’ finish. wanna cum..”

“pretty please,” he corrects you, purposely slowing his pace down just to watch you squirm in such desire. your legs. “say it girl. speak to me in that pretty voice.” 

it shook, vigorously. 

all from the rapid strokes of his tongue. your breathing patterns became so irregular it had you gasping for hair.

the way he made sure to suck and lick over every spot. chills, shivers and a plethora of other feelings run down your body before you moan, feeling him lightly nibble against your slit.

with a shaky breath exiting your throat, you mewl out a whiney, “pretty please toji. pleasepleaseplease.” 

“good girl,” he says in a smooth tone, making you let off a moan solely from the way he spoke to you. 

toji lowered his words, pronouncing in such a silky way that it made you pulse. he takes a concise slurp near your g-spot before mimicking a technique with his fingers.

unhurriedly, he slides a finger into your slick entrance, still hovering his tongue all throughout your pussy before you’re just nearly about to break. 

with your maw dropped wide, you came with the most tumultuous orgasm imaginable. he brushes his tongue against your slit as you ride out your orgasm, body growing limp abruptly over the table before you whine once he gets up. 

“open that mouth,” he utters, getting right between your trembling legs. without even a split question, you part your lips - unaware of the kiss that he planted right on your mouth. 

toji picks you up, the pretty anklet you were just idly brushing down his back. he carries you towards the sofa, still tongue tied with you—you moan in his mouth, tasting the sweetened tang of alcohol on his tongue. 

“y’don't know how bad i need you,” he gruffs, breaking between kisses, strands of your own saliva departs, and the more he shoved his tongue down your throat, the more you tasted yourself. swiftly, you move your tongue beneath his bottom lip, tasting how sweet you were and it made you whine. 

toji’s words rang throughout your ears like church bells. he practically treated you like a rag doll. your dress was off—and you were all exposed with just a pretty bra. 

“tell me you want me,” he mouthed, getting directly between you. toji was between your legs, hovering over you with bulky arms just stretched near the sides of you. he leans in, cupping your chin, stroking your thumb. “tell me you want me, and i’ll give you all of me.”

“i— i want all of you, toji,” you pant, your eyes focusing directly on him and only him. toji was still in his tuxedo. he was so handsome, there was certainly no denying. with matching black slacks, he reached for his tie—giving it a firm pull before snickering at your answer. 

“good girl,” he praises you, and you’re so impatient. with a few shuffling you hear the commotion of him unbuckling his pants — he's intentionally going slow, dragging things out to see that sweet pout form across your lips again. “goin’ as fast as i can, sweetheart. don’t give me that look.”

he was always such a tease. you kissed your teeth in annoyance, averting your eyes towards the ceiling before he’s finally through. 

toji stares down, using his right hand to pry your legs open a bit. his left hand to give himself a few pumps. you glanced down, and nearly moaned at the sight of his length. he was so thick, veins ran all the way down and you were almost drooling. 

he grunts, spotting you gawking at him and it only gets him ten times harder. taking a deep inhale, you stare at his happy trail. speckles of black hair decorating near his abdomen. it was sexy, toji was a well trimmed man surprisingly. 

“f-fuck, look how hard you make me,” he huffs out, and that’s when he makes you turn over on your back. you were staggered a bit at the sudden change of position—yet before you could react, that’s when you felt the plump tip of his dick prod against your entrance. “damn. she’s all excited for me. fuck this wedding, i just want you princess.”

his words…there came that same feeling brewing up inside you. a soft whine escapes from your lips as you’re dumbly arched beside the sofa, sucking in a breath. he finishes gently aligning himself. 

once he starts to go in, you let off a, “f-fuckkk,” that reverberated across the entire fitting room. he was big. saying toji was big, an entire understatement.

his girth had you nearly choking on your own saliva. with a single hand, he grips onto your waist, watching you gradually swallow him. “toji, you’re so b-big. ‘s really big.”

“perfect size just for you, baby,” he sighs, already feeling droplets of sweat race down the sides of his forehead. 

toji’s heaving, he licks his lips at the sight of you arching for him. as each inch sinks in further and further—you could feel him stretch you out even better than his fingers ever could.

your pussy squelched, longing for him to keep going. start up a pace, do something.. 

“easy girl, easy,” he murmurs, just barely halfway in. you try to bear around him and he smiles, running a hand down your spine to make you whimper. “relax for me. that’s it. good fuckin’ good.”

“t-toji..” you’d moan. each set of praises he gave you made your head spin, your heart raced, thinking was so hard for you. especially with such a size as big as his. “oh my g-god, ‘m gonna cum.”

he clicks his tongue, almost in before caressing your ass. “no baby, y’er not gonna cum yet,” and then he titter’s underneath his breath. “cute little drama queen.”

he was right in some way—you weren’t gonna cum so soon, but it did feel like it.

your face lowers against the cushioned pillow, flat down and you hug against it. biting your lip, your eyes rolled into the very depths of your cranium once toji presents you with a single rough thrust. 

one thrust. 

one thrust was all it took to make you let off the most sweetest melodic whimper imaginable. toji wanted to hear it—again, and again, and again. if it was anything he knew, he was slowly becoming more and more addicted to his future wife’s voice. 

“i just want you to feel all of me,” he starts, speaking between thrusts. your lips, spit-glossed and quavering. you whimper out, feeling his body weight press against you. 

it was so provocative. so arousing, this particular position.

doggystyle but with more depth.

he’d be able to reach more in a deeper angle to where you’re barely able to formulate comprehensible sentences. “i wanna reach you in spots no one’s ever reached before, princess,” he continued, leaning right up close to you—you let off a whine, feeling his cock stretch you out with such simplicity. “will you let me do that?”

“yes, yes. please..” you immediately spat out, feeling yourself coat the lower part of his shaft with your slick. you were already drenched, so soaked from before. being propped up over the armrest of the sofa. it made you feel so lewd. 

your cunt gripped all against him, gummy walls tugging back and forth tightly that it makes you whimper out. “toji, i want you. i- i want you too.”

“yeah girl. i know you do.” he replies with sass, giving your ass a brief smack—only to quickly caress it shortly afterwards. the sting, you licked your lips before letting off a sweet whimper. just a simple action as that made you throb. 

toji was a big guy, once he started up a rhythmic pace, you immediately fell in love. not with him, with his strikes, his mean thwacking hits against your cunt. 

or was it …?

only time could tell. 

you were far too dumb to comprehend anything. all you could even fathom was how big he was. stretching your cunt out as if it was some sort of elastic band. 

toji’s cock reached every crevice, you felt his tip prod against spots you didn’t even know could be reached. 

“o-ohhh my fuckin’ god, fuckkk,” you’d gasp, feeling him lower his weight against you just a bit further. by this point, he was smacking his hips roughly against you.

it was hypnotizing. the way he rolled his hips at such a titillating speed, so deep. you were almost drooling—you wanted more, and more, and more. “right there, ‘s too good. fuck me right th—”

“don’t tell me how to fuck, princess.” he groans, making you lie back against the wooly arm of the sofa. his tone was so raspy and mean, you were aching each time he spoke to you. 

toji’s favorite part was seeing your ass go back against him, it made him kiss his teeth everytime. the recoil.

your ass had him locked hard. just jouncing back against him. he pivots his hips before you moan once he starts to shift a bit. 

“need to go deeper,” he groans, and you don’t know what he means before you feel him lean right up against you. you whimper, feeling the back of toji’s sock suddenly make contact with your neck. 

“deeper ‘n deeper,” he huffs out, and you moan at the soft fabric brushing near your skin. he was fucking you with a foot pressed lightly against your neck. this angle—it was filthy.

if you weren’t drooling, then you certainly were now. he groans, each time you clamp down against him it makes his jaw tighten. “waited so long jus’ to have ya underneath me like this, baby.”

the more toji spoke, the more you disassociated. his dick did wonders.

each stroke had you gasping for air. his hits against you, the way he had his foot right by your neck. pretty lashes of your continued to flicker and flutter whilst he was fucking you insanely stupid. 

“m-more, please. getting close, tojiiii.” and he finds it cute. the way you drag out your words in such a obscene way. he’s making jerk back and back against him—it elicits out the honeyed sounds from you. 

“fuck back against me ‘n i’ll think about it,” he puffs out. you whine pathetically, making a cute attempt to move back against him.

it was barely any movement due to toji’s foot pressed up against your neck but you tried. he cackles roughly, teasingly sliding fingers down your back before cooing. “a for effort, baby. i’ll take it from here, yeah?”

and he does, like the true gentleman he was. 

toji keeps you in that same position for a good thirty minutes until your legs were close to essentially giving out. 

you came a lot, repeatedly. constantly. 

over and over again until the word cum was forever the only existing word engraved into your dumb little brain. you were speechless, fundamentally losing track of your orgasms he gave you. you shuddered, each position making you covet for more. you didn’t want to stop. 

not now, not ever.

“fuckin’ look at her grip on me so sloppy like,” he nips at his tongue, currently having you laid on your side. he pistons his dick in and out of you at such a tempo…it was so amorous. 

he was referring to the way the strings of his and your own cum stringing together.

back and forth, so messy. he watched in awe, sliding his tongue amongst his lips before groaning. “can only imagine what our honeymoon would be like, sweetheart. i’d probably fuck around ‘n get you pregnant. maybe gift you with a kid or two.”

“t— toji,” you’d moan, and a rigid grip goes against your waist. whilst he was giving you vigorous shots from the side, you’re just hugging him tightly with your squelching walls.

the sounds your cunt made from its impact was so loud. it earned a hiss from him before he slowed his thrusts down. “do it.”

“silly girl,” he laments, a thumb stroking against the softness of your side. he was pumping you full of inches, you’re just taking it with your tongue lolled out—it felt so good.

each spot, he hit it deeply. the curve of toji’s dick, it had somewhat of an upward curve that made him reach a more thorough angle inside of you. “f-fuck, but ‘m gonna stuff you full again. ‘s that what you want? a plump pretty belly jus’ for me to see?”

you whimper, nodding your head ardently. 

“use those words.” he huffs out, deepening his strokes against you. while feeling your ass jumar and clamp back by him. your walls hugged him solidly like a vice. it’s got his head spinning in circles, on a constant loop. 

“give it to me t-toji, wan’ you to fill me up again,” you’d hiccup, and then he suddenly makes you lie down on your back. he gives you a smile, dark green irises staring right into you before he pulls out briefly—just before plugging himself back in. 

toji swallows thickly, his jaw clenching steadfastly once he ends up cumming again. he poured such thick ropes into you.

it was warm. the way it trickled into you, he makes you grow quiet so you can hear it. 

“…f-fuckin’ hell,” he husked, his head going back as he raises your leg up to give it a soft kiss. you milked him so good to where his voice started to become a bit more shaky. even a bit whiny.

toji stuttering was something new to you—and you’d be a liar if you said that didn’t turn you on. “take it all princess, saved all this jus’ for you….damn.”

he utters the last part underneath his breath, his abs flexing before he grabs ahold of his dick. it was swollen. throbbing from the stimulation before he pulled out again, this time smearing his cum all across your entrance. “always… always liked myself a messy girl.”

eventually, the two of you nearly ended up missing your own ceremony. dozens of guests came to show their support for the new soon-to-be wedded couple.

toji helped clean you up, as promised, not a damage was done to your costly dress. 

the venue couldn’t have been anymore perfect. the surprise was a bit ruined figuring the two of you had seen each other right before the official wedding. 

toji’s hair was a bit messed up. he runs his hands through it whilst the entire crow stands up once you start trodding your feet down the aisle. 

that generic traditional wedding piano tune plays, and you’re walking with your father, the train piece of your wedding dress flowing down throughout each step. 

toji has this gaze on you the entire time, hands buried in his pockets and his eyes linger. it made you nervous—something was telling you something, but you chose to ignore it. did you love him? or did you not? 

once you finally made it up near the stand with toji, he grabs your hands with the most sleaziest grin. he strokes against your hands as the priest started to recite the same broad speech, “dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the holy union of…”

as he spoke, the two of you kept eyes on each other the entire time. toji towered over you, and he genuinely looked in love. he had a softness to his face, yet a smug look that never went away. your gut was telling you something—yet you couldn’t figure out exactly what. 

the priest continued to speak before focusing his attention towards you. “do you take this man to be your husband, to live together, to love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health—forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”

“i do.” you mutter without hesitation. 

the priest then turns towards toji before letting off a sigh, staring back into his book. “sir. do you take this woman to be your wife, to live together, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health—forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”

toji stares lovingly into your eyes, tilting his head before he leans up close to you—you’re caught by surprise once he kisses you early. it was a deep kiss, you kissed back, wrapping your arms around him before he pulls away.

yet before he can say, “i do,”

toji makes your heart come to a stop, murmuring out the fatal words against your lips, “sorry baby, i can’t.”

[oukabarsburgblr]

Marriage Troubles [Consort AU] Pt. I

FEATURING : PRINCE DAISUKE YUICHI (OC) x CONSORT male reader

An arranged marriage doesn't always go well. Daisuke Yuichi finds himself engaged to a foreign man for the sake of global peace. What he thought was a well-mannered man was a venomous snake once its shed. Just how long will our prince withstand rebellious remarks from our bold reader?

morally grey reader, angry sex, profile

Find out more under the cut!

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife."

Well that wouldn't be far from the truth. The older man dressed in regal clothing wondered why was that famous quote stamped behind the cover of a children's book.

Mimicking the atmosphere of the early morning, the ambience in the room, corners carved stone, marble-plated floor reflected the owner itself. A young child in a loose white gown sat clad in the man's lap. His black glinting eyes skimming through the words of the book that he barely knew half of the meaning to.

"Now now Daisuke, would you like me to continue last night's story or will we have it back at the start?" The man, who had similar black hair and eyes, even their faces were identical, smiled down at the child who enthusiastically flipped the pages back and forth.

The child, Daisuke Yuichi, looked up to him with a gleam. "Start over please, father!" His gummy smile made his father flutter inside as he kissed the crown of his hair.

"As you wish, my child. Long ago, there was a kingdom, grandeur and divine with its posessions, their territory vast and protected, their people happy and full. And the kingdom had a prince!" The man looked down at his son and whispered. "That's you."

Daisuke grinned, as if he hadn't heard this story for the nth time. "And the prince was kind and handsome, well-loved by his king and well-loved by the subjects."

The story continued to weave through its plot, a young prince and his adventures in the kingdom and Daisuke listened attentively to his father's calming narrative voice. It wasn't until the romance had kicked in that he was excited the most.

"And far, far away...there was a princess." Daisuke squealed, covering his face as he wooed over the 2D drawing of a blonde pink-dressed princess on the page. "The princess, amazed by the prince's brave gesture, fell for the prince as she bestowed her hand."

"The prince took her hand, placing a gentle loving kiss on her ring finger, and they went to both kingdoms. With hope to unite their love and their kingdoms together." The man swiped his son's hair back, caressing his strands softly as he turned the last page.

"The prince and princess married and lived happily ever after!"

Daisuke cheered, reading the last printed page as he leaned back onto his father. "Will I find a princess one day?" The man kissed his son's hair again. "I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding a spouse. A fine young man you'll be and with it, a fine young princess will come to be."

The child turned around in his father's hold, the morning light now bright and lightening up the room.

Daisuke smiled to himself, while hugging his father, his heart full of hope and dream to find love too. Love as pure as a swan's feather and as sweet as a birthday cake. Ever since, he yearned for his fated one to unite with him as long years had come to pass by.

-

The room had changed, furnitures replaced with more mature ones, a large regal couch and a marble coffee table in the middle. A big vanity across his bed with bedside table customised with gold and silver, all gifted and bestowed by his father, the emperor of their kingdom.

Fifteen years had passed and the once child had now grown into a fine young man. Said man was adjusting his white cravat with a pin holding a Tourmaline gem at its center.

"What do I have in store for today?" His voice was rich, deep while showcasing the youth he had but the tone mature and intelligent as a scholar.

"His Majesty requests for your audience for morning tea later in half an hour. Then, a few of the ministers will be present in the West Wing. Your Highness will have a chance to confer while on the way to meet the Council's Representative. Lessons are as normal, horse riding with the instructor in the evening and lastly,"

The royal secretary closed his leather book, adjusting his glasses. Two guards were also stationed in the room, an iron plate on their chests with the kingdom's insignia with a few other maids working about and all of them knew what the secretary was about to say.

"Your Highness' meeting with your betrothed."

Silence followed, some of the staffs peeking to see what expression the man was feigning. Daisuke smiled, satisfied with his cravat. "Thank you, Sir Ivan. I'm off to meet my father then." All of them bowed to their waists, as Daisuke walked out of the room, his footsteps echoing in the halls.

It wasn't a secret that he was recently engaged with another, a foreigner from another kingdom. Not royal but still of high society.

"I sincerely hope you are faring well with the news. If you wish to find another, then I will engage with Emperor Aurelius to form another treaty-"

"All is fine, father." Daisuke smiled, sipping at the cup of tea with the emperor across him sitting in the lounge furniture. His father, the emperor pursed his lips, his face was showing telltale signs of age but he was still strong as the sovereign of the kingdom. His heart worries for his son.

"I'm sure we'll match well together. Regardless of the circumstances." Daisuke had a polite expression, respecting his father and his choices for their reign.

Two kingdoms, from the North East and the West wanted to align with one another. However, due to conflicting politics and past histories, the easiest way for peace is a hand in marriage.

Similar to the East, there was only one heir to the throne in the West so Daisuke, the prince of the North East had to marry a son of the duke. Daisuke had never met nor heard of the man. It wasn't uncommon for emperors to take in male concubines but it wasn't the norm for them to marry a man either.

Daisuke didn't mind the status, he just hoped that his first marriage would go well, unlike his father's and the previous Empress.

Time passed and after congratulations from politicians and acquaintances alike, the time had come for him to meet his fiance. He was again adorned in a royal blue suit with tassels and gems as he stood at the steps of the palace, to greet the arrival of his engaged.

"...I think we should step inside, Your Highness." His loyal knight prodded, unable to see the face Daisuke was expressing. It had been some time and the sun was dimming, signaling nightfall and his fiance and the West delegates were still not showing any signs of approach.

In other words, he had been stood up.

"...Let's." There was a slight irritation in his voice before he recomposed himself, thanking his attendants and his knights for waiting beside him for naught.

Even the dinner that was supposed to be between him and his fiance was cancelled and words reached his ears that the entourage had encroached 'unforeseen circumstances' and will be residing elsewhere other than the palace.

It was disrespectful, arrogant almost to discredit the efforts of the royals, although the secretary had been the one to arranged, but Daisuke ultimately decided to give the benefit of the doubt to his fiance. Even the dinner he that he ate alone, that was supposed to have with his fiance tasted stale. He laid in his bed, his heart beating out of his chest as he thought of meeting his soon-to-be consort.

-

A few days past and not a word from the envoy nor the convoy itself and the emperor was about to send a rescue team to find the missing fiance until the Sapphire Palace were lively and in a ruckus.

Daisuke had simply passed by the Sapphire Palace, a few miles away from the gates and he had seen the insignia of the West Duchy and it was enough for him to notice that his fiance's entourage had arrived.

There was quite a commotion, footmen arguing with each other despite the language barrier and all seemed to be out of hand until the man of the hour himself stepped out of the carriage and began to converse with the royal staff.

"It's him. The one with (h/c) hair. He's your fiance." Ivan whispered to Daisuke, who was burning his eyes into the blurry figure draped in luxurious clothes. Beside him were numerous servants who were holding what appeared to be-

"Are those shopping bags?" Black eyes zeroed in on the multitudes of items that originated from his own country.

His loyal knight beside him chipped in. "Looks like our guest went on a little shopping spree." The prince frowned, thinking that the reason why their arrival was late was that his fiance wanted to go sightseeing.

He held back a retort, still trying to hold some ensemble of peace for their upcoming marriage before the (h/c) turn his back around to lock eyes with Daisuke.

His breath hitched and his heart skipped a beat as he stared into (e/c) eyes, although he was far, no amount of distance could fog the treasure cove of beauty the man behold.

"He's...beautiful..."

The knight beside him raised an eyebrow. "Your Highness?" "Pardon me." Daisuke coughed into a fist as he quickly looked away when a servant whispered into the (h/c)'s ear as they continued to stare at them.

The prince quickly walked away, continuing with his errands before he would be swept away in the alluring pools of (e/c).

Even after indulging in his evening activities, his mind could not rid of the starry (e/c), he hadn't even seen his face up close yet Daisuke was already enthralled.

"Fucking hell..." He cursed to himself, clad in his bathrobe with his face coated with a honey face mask. Tomorrow was doomsday.

The wedding that would unite the two nations. There was no official delegate from the royals of the West although there was enough from the duchy of (l/n) and one of the reason itself that he still hadn't met his fiance face to face was because it was taboo for couples to spend the night before the wedding.

Although it was most likely to prevent premarital pregnancy so he doesn't know how it would work with his groom. Traditions are traditions, it wouldn't harm either party hopefully.

Maybe and just maybe his dream of having a tender-love marriage could still come arise. Although something else had arose underneath his robe.

"..." Daisuke shamefully walked his way to his lavish lavatory.

-

The prince wasn't particularly involved in the preparation of the wedding. His father had offered to let his own royal advisor to arrange the venue and the ceremony itself. Probably as a way to apologise at the fact that he had to drag his son's love life into politics.

Daisuke had only let them be. Chipping in once or twice about the colour scheme, what type of flowers he preferred at the altar and whatnot but overall, he would just walk down the aisle, say yes to the dress and get a move on.

His fiance was most likely not involved as well. Speaking of, he felt his hands getting clammy under the fitted white gloves he wore, oddly nervous of matrimonal ceremony. Will he be a good husband? Will his groom had accepted the fact that they were wedded for politics? This was far in contrast with his fairytale dream.

The venue was already bustling with other royals, aristocrats, upper-crust gentrys sitting in the rows and rows of seating that was behind the closed grand door. Daisuke was standing right before it.

His attire was perfect. Supervised by his own father, he was clad in a commander's full dress uniform, navy hues with tassles, emblems and medals strike across his chest. His black hair slicked back with gel with minimal powder on his face and a little bit of lip tint and blush to bring colour to his pale face.

The most handsome man of the century, was what his father said when he had a private showing with Daisuke. The emperor also mentioned that he had already met the duke's son, his fiance, and only uttered.

"Goodluck, Yuichi. A feisty one, he is."

Daisuke didn't particularly like his teasing tone but brushed it off nonetheless. His secretary was right next to him, checking his attire and whispering to a servant's ear.

"Presenting the son of the Western Duchy, Lord (m/n) (l/n)."

That instantly snapped Daisuke out of his stupor as he turned around, heels clicking on the ceramic floor and he found his breath stolen away once again.

Beautiful was an understatement, the (h/c) himself was majestic to look upon. It should cost jewels for one to even bestow their eyes on the duke's son.

That was the thought that was running through Daisuke's mind when he laid his eyes upon his groom.

A gentle smile on his face that clearly had makeup like his but somehow, his (s/c) skin was glowing even more than his pale counterparts.

Dressed in a white three-piece suit, golden and cream highlights with a notch lapel and a light blue satin puff tie. His pants were a matching white as well, black silky dress shoes with intricates hand-drawn on the red soles.

Across his chest were gold chains from the lapel to his right breast pocket and small gemstones were dangling, a sign of his wealth. He had cufflinks that were the same shade of Daisuke's navy uniform.

His lips were painted with a glossy pink-red tint, matching his undertone and there were a slight edge of eyeliner on the corner of his eyes. Suddenly, Daisuke felt like the makeup he wore wasn't enough.

Finally, the steps came to a halt and his fiance stood right in front of him, craning his neck down to greet the prince.

"Good morning, Your Highness." His voice sounded sultry and alluring, at least to his ears and he had stared at the (h/c) once again until Ivan had coughed loudly bringing him back to reality.

"Good morning, Lord...(l/n)." "(m/n) is just fine." The smile he adorned was appealing and it struck Daisuke in the right places in his chest as he faced the grand doors, the audience behind them suddenly quieting down and he felt a hand slinking to hold onto his arm.

"Let's get married, shall we?"

(m/n) (l/n) looked to him with that polite smile again and Daisuke felt his heart flutter as he nodded in return, leading their intertwined steps together.

The grand doors pushed open and an organ followed, oscillating the wind to the tune of a marriage union. An ensemble of choir sang, bringing a light atmosphere suitable for the wedding of a royal.

The pair walked down the aisle together in slow steps, Daisuke smiling at the guests, mostly familliar faces to his left although he couldn't recognise the ones on his right, (m/n)'s side that filled with foreign ministers from other kingdoms.

"I hope we didn't cause you too much trouble with my late arrival."

(m/n)'s whisper caught him off guard as he slightly peered to his right, the (h/c) still smiling and he whispered back.

"It didn't cause much but I would've hoped for an earlier introduction." He could hear almost a giggle from his groom. "We had some...run-ins."

Daisuke raised an eyebrow at that. "I saw the outlet bags. I suppose our country is fine with riches that you couldn't help yourself?"

It was quiet from the (h/c) and Daisuke felt like the walk to the altar was taking forever until they reached the podium and the officiator bowed to them.

"Dearly beloved, we have all gathered here today..."

"Your kingdom has many intricates our own lacked. I couldn't help but had a few stops." (m/n) hushly retorted, it had an apologetic tone.

Daisuke chuckled at that, suddenly all of his annoyance washed away. "I suppose a proper tour should be in order."

"...Are you not irate, Your Highness?" They both turned facing each other as the ring bearer, Daisuke's third baby cousin stepping forward to hand the small velveted ringboxes.

"I'm not, currently." Daisuke swiftly took (m/n)'s ring out of the box, a 12-carat sapphire and diamond cluster, and gently took the groom's hand and slid it on his ring finger. "As long as you're already here, all goes well for me."

There was a moment of silence from (m/n), who quietly took Daisuke's ring, an Oval Blue Sapphire, 18-carat white diamond cluster, pulled his white glove off and pushed the ring onto his finger, lightly squeezing his hand.

When Daisuke raised his eyes from their now holding hands with ringed fingers, he looked to (m/n)'s face, expecting to see the usual polite smile but there was instead a smirk accompanied with a devilish glint behind those (e/c) that was quickly brushed away with his usual facade.

"I'm glad."

"...What was-"

"Your Royal Highness, Prince Daisuke Yuichi, will you take Lord (m/n) (l/n) to be your lawfully wedded husband." The officiator cut in as he waited for Daisuke to speak who in turn stammered accidentally.

"I-I do." He coughed to himself, slightly embarassed as the old officiator held a reassuring smile.

"And you, Lord (m/n) from the (l/n) Dukedom. Will you take His Highness, Prince Daisuke Yuichi to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"...I do." There was a drag in the first syllable, and he smoothly finished the rest of his testimony that made something curl in Daisuke's stomach.

The prince didn't even notice the priest' next words as (m/n) suddenly leaned in to kiss him by his lips. He quite literally took his breath away, Daisuke sucking in a quick breath before deepening the kiss and pressing his hand into (m/n)'s lower back.

There were cheers, clapping in celebration of the two kingdom's union, at the expense of their own.

Daisuke pulled away and gazed into (e/c). "We're going to have so much fun." He swore he could have heard the (h/c) murmured amongst the applause the audience were imparting. He looked to the crowd, his eyes meeting his father, who was in a grander seat than the rest, nodded slowly at him.

-

The ceremony passed by quick, he had to stand on the grand podium with guests passing by in turn to greet and congratulate the new couple, (m/n) patiently still beside him, linking their arms together. Daisuke would shoot glances but a commonwealth would converse with him every now and then.

Cake-cutting and more public affection and finally were they allowed to retire to the Grand Palace. Although Daisuke had to part from his new consort who waved goodbye at him as they got ready to move into the Emerald Palace. The prince stared at the carriage leaving him and his knights behind.

Both his secretary and his knight congratulating him with his marriage with Ivan reminding him of their private dinner that night.

"I hope you do remember of your meal together that was much delayed." Daisuke nodded, unbuttoning his collar in the rocky carriage. "I do." "As well as your marriage culmination?"

"Culmina-?" "Consummating in other terms."

"..." Oh.

Ivan rolled his eyes at his silly prince whose cheeks turned pink at the heavy reminder.

-

Night has fallen and it seemed another tentative was due. The prince, checked his white loose tucked blouse he had worn along with black slacks that had silver chains pinned on the sides of his waist.

He had came much earlier than suggested, his knight asking whether he was nervous although the prince declined the indication, there was a hint of hesitance in his heart.

The cutlery was laid out on the table decorated with lace and multiple candelabra, lit up just for the occasion. It was a private dinner, just the two of them, supposedly, away from peering eyes and as a moment of intimacy for the newlyweds.

"It seems you're here early, Your Highness."

Daisuke stood from his chair, the wooden foot dragging against the carpeted floor. "Your Grace." (m/n) bowed to his now husband, along with his attendant as the door that was opened for his entry now closed by the guards who stood watch outside.

He was wearing a maroon dressing gown that dragged on the carpeted floor with a striking necklace that fit snugly around his neck.

"I hope I wasn't late, again to our tryst." "A tryst?" (m/n) frowned, pouting. "Does the prince not consider me so?"

Daisuke smiled, feeling abashed as he steeled himself. He walked over behind the (h/c), pulling up a chair and pushed it to the front while (m/n) seated himself. "If you wish." He whispered into the consort's ear before returning into his own.

He could feel a glare burning into the side of his head from the consort as butlers and maids began to serve their four-course meal. Plates and bottles of wine were presented and the servants stood behind the royals for any amendments needed.

The mahogany table was rectangular. (m/n) was sitting on the longer part of it, more to the edge while Daisuke had sat at head of the table. They were close to each other but with enough space to dine. Daisuke had requested so.

"I believed I hadn't met your father yet. I heard of what a great man he was. Was he present during the reception?" Daisuke began the dinner, taking a silver knife and began to cut into the steak on his plate.

(m/n) followed accordingly, opting to drink some of the wine first. "None of my family members were present, Your Highness. They're all booked with their own schedules."

"Oh. I'm sorry that happened." Daisuke cringed to himself, worried that he might've had offended his consort. "No no, it's fine." The (h/c) waved it off.

"I'm sure Your Highness will get to meet them some other time." That polite smile stretched across (m/n)'s face again. That odd expression.

"Please don't refer to me as a prince at all times. We are bound together in matrimony." He called a butler to pour a glass of sparkling water for himself.

(e/c) eyes gazed at the decanting before trailing back to Daisuke's black ones. "...If so, then may I request for us to be truly...private?"

The butler that was serving Daisuke a glass seemed to freeze in hesitation. He looked to his prince for confirmation and Daisuke nodded. The man stepped back, bowed and exited the dinner hall along with the other servants who spoke their greetings and trickled out of the venue in an orderly manner.

Daisuke was about to grab the bottle, to finish pouring his half-full glass before he felt fingers curling around the back of his hand.

"Let me." (m/n) smiled again, stood and delicately poured the beverage into the glass, just enough that it almost spilled over the edge. The prince quirked an eyebrow at the gesture as he carefully took the glass and sipped on the water.

"Thank you, Lord-" "(m/n)." "...(m/n)."

He felt his heart pounding again, like the first time they had met but it was different. It didn't had that nervous beat of meeting a loved one. The butterflies in his stomach wasn't due to excitement, it was like screaming at him that something was wrong-

"Have you never ventured to the West, my prince? I don't think I've ever seen you around any social events." (m/n) slumped back in his seat, poking at his food. Daisuke was a tad confused at the change of demeanour but brushed it off.

"I do travel to the West sometimes but the only events I attended were for militia intents." (e/c) rolled and the consort scoffed. "Politics. How boring."

"...Excuse me?"

It took a moment for (m/n) to stare up at the chandelier above them, responsible for lighting the whole room. He pushed himself to stand and slowly walked over to the switch that had kept it alight.

(m/n) pulled the lever down, instantly darkening the room. Daisuke squinted his eyes, adjusting to the low brightness that was only exhibited by the multiple candelabra.

"That feels much better, doesn't it?"

He almost flinched when he found the (h/c) sitting right beside him, his elbows on the table and his hands cupping his chin. (e/c) eyes peering into his. "...Were you there when they decided on our marriage, Prince Daisuke?"

His tone was off, very off, different than what the prince was used to. "...No. My father had been the one to agree, as proposed by Emperor Aurelius." "...That old geezer."

(m/n) clicked his tongue and reached out to his wine glass, instantly downing almost half of the cup, shocking Daisuke. "He always wanted to get rid of me. So scared, paranoid that I would somehow take over his empire that his ancestors built. Scared that I would seduce his son to give the throne over to me that fucking-"

He paused and smiled back to Daisuke. "So. Princey." (m/n) plucked a grape from a plate and popped it into his mouth. "What do you want from this marriage?"

Daisuke was taken aback, had this been the true nature of the second son of the West Duchy? He hesitated for a moment before retorting. "...What do I want?" "Yes."

A glimmer of hatred flashed across (e/c) who took another swig of the wine. "It is impossible for you to accept the offer without wanting something in return. What's the catch?"

"There is no catch." Daisuke pressed, almost losing his composure at the accusation he was presented. "I'm in the same position as you are, I can guarantee you."

"I truly don't care whether you were present or not when the contract of peace was signed. My...hand in marriage was given away for some..." His (e/c) scanned Daisuke up and down with judgement.

"...man." He smiled, again.

The prince took a deep breath, regaining his maturity as he sighed to himself. "Even if there was some catch, all I ask is peace." He gazed at the consort. "Between us."

"..." The consort looked bored for a moment and it was eating away at Daisuke's patience.

"When do we start?" The prince perked up at the consort's ask. "Start what exactly?" He sipped on his glass.

"The sex."

He spat out what was fresh sparkling water to his left, avoiding the consort who only glared, unimpressed at the coughing prince. "T-That was abrupt." He hit his chest a few times to get the water out of his system.

"...you sound inexperienced."

"I prefer not to reveal myself." (m/n) hummed as he clicked his tongue before he spoke. "I must warn you, though."

Daisuke felt nervous again, his heart rate speeding at the sight of (e/c) burning into his.

"You're not the first man to warm my bed."

-

Muffles of cursing and moans were discernable in the dim dinner hall. The food that was plated now cold, Daisuke having another means in his mouth.

(m/n) was in his lap, hiking up his gown, and sat plush, his legs folded as he continued to enfold the prince's senses with inching thrill, making out with the flustered prince. "Mmnn- hah huff..." Daisuke panted, pulling back and his pants tight with his erection, his back tense against the cushion of the chair and his hands clenching the armrests.

The (h/c) was staring him down, the corner of his lips leaking spit as he licked another stripe up the prince's cheek. "You seem nervous, have you never had an entertainer on you before?"

His mind was hazy and warm, his skin almost burning as he huffed. "Your tongue, you speak my language well." Daisuke didn't know why he asked that. Maybe he needed a distraction other than how (m/n)'s tongue was probably the hottest thing that entered his mouth.

"I studied your culture as soon as I received the announcement. And I had help from a couple of your subjects..." (m/n) purred, smirking. His hands slinked down Daisuke's chest until it reached the strings of his collar.

"But that's not the point now, is it?"

He ripped Daisuke's shirt with his hands, exposing the large chest underneath. The prince stammered, his hands shaky as (m/n) readjusted his position to sit his ass directly on the ravenette's clothed cock.

"Now how does the Prince of the East spend his nights?" He whispered sultrily, trailing his lips across Daisuke's neck. "I don't...typically-"

The prince's words were cut off with a moan. His own moan when the (h/c) began to grind himself on Daisuke's crotch. "Don't lie to me." (m/n) smiled. "Would His Royal Highness like to take it up the ass?"

He pressed a deep kiss to the prince's cheek before gazing deeply into his eyes. "Or does he prefer swinging his hips?" Daisuke pursed his lips together, his heart officially beating out of his chest as his hands finally had the courage to grab on (m/n)'s waist.

"I'm not bottoming." His answer was firm, determined to top. "..." (m/n) only gazed at him with an unimpressed look. "You couldn't even conquer me." The (h/c) whispered.

Suddenly, the grinding became more rough. (m/n) closed his eyes and threw his head back, circling and pressing his bottom down on Daisuke's erection. "F-Fuck mmn!" The prince panicked a bit before tightening his grip as the consort grinded himself down on the ravenette.

"Ahn! Ahh mmnn-" The (h/c)'s moans were loud and elaborate. It confused Daisuke as (m/n) gritted his teeth. He experimentally hovered his lips over the consort's neck. "I'm gonna- I'm going to cu-"

A slap echoed in the small room, shocking Daisuke. He was stunned, a small tingling on his left cheek with (m/n) staring at him unimpressed. "You think I'm that easy to cum?"

The (h/c) glared at the prince, scrutinizing him. "..." Daisuke could only stare in silence, his cheek reddening. "I..."

(m/n) propped his own chin on his left palm. "Hey. Are you actually a virgin?" His tone seemed disappointed, angry even. "I've heard the Prince of the East rejecting advances but I didn't think it'd be this dire. Your face shouldn't be a problem but how so?"

"..." Was this his true colors? Daisuke only wanted a peaceful marriage but all hopes of his fairytale seemed to vanish at the sight of the (h/c).

(m/n) waited for an answer from Daisuke who was hesitant to respond. "I just thought that...your first night should be with someone special." "Oh. You're one of those, huh. A sweetheart."

The (h/c) pried himself off of the prince, staggering in the dim room. "Listen here, prince. I don't care if you want me to carry out my marital duties. But don't bother me nor stand in my way," He trotted to the doors of the dining room.

"And I won't stand in yours."

He kicked the door open, shocking a few guards and left the prince alone. Daisuke stared at the agape door, palming his cheek wondering what the hell did he got into.

Their consummation night was scrapped. Daisuke sitting alone in the bed of their shared bedroom, screaming into the pillow with his still hard erection.

-

Daisuke had never seen his consort after that again. He was officially married but he hadn't seen his husband for the past week.

He had Ivan did some background digging and it turned out the secretary already did but Daisuke himself didn't want to read it just because he thought he didn't need to. Now here he was, hunching over his desk in his office, flipping through the files.

(m/n) (l/n), the infamous second son of the West Dukedom. An older brother to inherit the duchy, a set of parents that was rumoured to proudly spoil their baby son with multiple assets and estates. Occasionally ventures to East for social events. An extremely influential person in the upper-class.

He thought back on how the (h/c) mumbled about the Western Emperor. Looks like their arrangement was rooted much deeper than he had thought.

The prince tried to visit the consort in the Emerald Palace, where all the consorts and concubines of the royal resorted to, for now it was the sole home of (m/n) (l/n). What was once a parade of servants loyal to the prince, was sneaky and deceitful to protect their new master.

"What do you mean, he's unavailable?"

A maid coughed acting dismissive, two others behind her holding in their giggles. "Well, it is exactly what I said, Lord Ivan. His Grace isn't feeling well today."

Daisuke crossed his arms, standing behind his secretary and stared at the tall gates of the Emerald Palace. He tried to enter but was denied.

"If he's not well, has the doctor tend to the consort?" "He's unwell but he is not ill. Some time to himself is what His Grace needs." A guard suddenly chipped in and Ivan just noticed that all of the staff employed in the Emerald Palace was in on the gag.

"Do you wish for me to punish them, Your Highness?" Daisuke's knight, who was one of the commanders that served beside him during his military enlistment whispered to him. "No need." The prince sighed, rubbing his forehead in frustration.

Daisuke knew that (m/n) was influential but to take over the Emerald Palace is not what they both need right now. Every now and then, he'd stop by the Palace but he was left in the dust each time, either he was rejected at the gates or the (h/c) was not present in his chambers.

He paused to himself, wondering why he was trying so hard to harmonize with his consort. His cheeks bloomed a light pink at the memory of the consort on their wedding day. (m/n) truly looked marvelous in his eyes.

Daisuke didn't want his first marriage to turn dull. How can he be the emperor of a nation if he couldn't even save his marriage?

"We received some...reports, Your Highness."

Daisuke looked up to his secretary, who seemed hesitant. They were in the prince's office. "What is it?" "Well...it'd be best if I tell this to you alone." The prince's knight immediately bowed and left the office, closing the doors shut.

The ravenette encouraged the secretary to sit. Ivan looked tired, as he stared into the prince's eyes. "Your consort, His Grace...we received reports of him flirting with some of the guards."

"...flirting?" An irk appeared on his forehead and he could feel mild anger building in the back of his head. How annoying was his consort?

"Yes. From the staffs of the other Palaces, not from the Emerald." "Was it a complaint or a report?" "Reports, Your Highness. The guards themselves have not reached out to me nor to your knight."

"..." Had the guards been bewitched by the (h/c)? Daisuke wondered. He sighed and pulled his cabinet open, taking out an invoice. "What are you proposing, Your Highness?"

"He's in a foreign country, away from his family with only a few familliar faces around him. He's probably throwing a tantrum with his new surroundings. His parents spoiled him with riches and the empire has no problem sponsoring him as well." The prince pulled out a stamp, officiating the new document.

"I'm increasing a total of 30% of his allowance, if he wishes for another shopping spree, then so be it."

Ivan stared at the new invoice Daisuke handed him, hesitantly picking it up. "...I don't think this is the solution." "Then what do you suggest?" "That Your Highness should steer instead of letting him trample all over you?"

The prince deadpanned at his long-known friend slash secretary who coughed into his fist and mumbled an apology. "I'll get this to the Royal Treasury immediately."

The prince had a frown on his face as his Ivan exited the office. Daisuke hadn't even seen (m/n) ever since his dinner, and here he was receiving news he was fooling around with others? Their dynamic was hard for him to tiptoe around.

Maybe the increase in money for the (h/c) would better his behaviour towards the prince.

-

"This is absurd..."

Daisuke stared at the paper in hand. An official request from his consort. He was already surprised that (m/n) was sending a letter his way but to his disappointment, it was a request for a summerhouse???

"Construction of a villa near the borders of the West, fully furnitured, surrounded by a lake with a stampede of workers for maintenance. Functionality...vacation." His knight peered over the crumbling Daisuke in his office chair.

"This...I haven't seen him in a month and the first thing he reaches out to me is a summerhouse. A SUMMERHOUSE???" Daisuke yelled frustratingly as he grabbed a quill and roughly stabbed it into the pot of ink.

"Will you indulge in his request, Your Highness?" "No. I've gifted him jewels and gold with him not even showing me his face and he dared to ask for a villa!" He was more than capable to build a villa by his own means, but a month had passed and the consort was a no-show!

He made his own advances, sending gifts, fineries, he even had a surprise private buffet for the consort ever since he heard (m/n) wished to try some of the Eastern cuisines! Not even a simple thank you from the consort himself. From the consort's attendant, yes and it made the prince curl over in delight but he wished to see the consort either way.

He had to dismiss the consort's request this time. Surely, not much of a fuss would occur.

-

"THE CONSORT IS MISSING!"

Daisuke's attention was snatched from the plate he was dining. He was having his dinner that night when a guard bursted in.

"WHAT??" "His Grace! He's gone missing!"

"How?!" Daisuke's knight stepped in. "Did he went out to town? With no guards??" "No! His schedule is clear for today, His Grace is not in his room and there were makeshift ropes from bedsheets from his windows!"

The prince sat silent for a while before he clenched his teeth. "That brat ran away...call all the knights! Cover a ten-mile perimeter! Close the FUCKING BORDERS and leave no stone unturned!!"

-

(m/n) was humming to himself, carefully guiding his horse on the stone path. The cloak he was wearing was enough to conceal the riches he was wearing underneath, he only wore them because it looked nice anyways.

As soon as the (h/c) received the notice where his request was rejected with no appeal, he ran away. Quite literally, he sneaked out of his bedroom, not even telling his maids he loved to gossip with nor even notifying a single guard.

The palace was starting to feel suffocating anyways. When he had stepped inside, all of the staff was ready to serve him as intended but as soon as he was promoted to a consort, they truly upped their game, treating him like royalty and far better than whatever he received back at the duchy.

Although they were the under the reign of the emperor, all it took was a few small gems and bags of coin to turn the maids over to his side. Then, the knights weren't that bad, Eastern men had their own charm to them and he may have fooled around with one or two, nothing advanced to the bed however.

Humans are easy to dictate over, his father and mother were his first victims of his narcisissm and his brother was kind enough to let him have his way. Socialites were a breeze, as long as you have a tight grip on people, all goes in your favour.

And that's what (m/n) (l/n) did for the past twenty two years of his life. Until the news of his engagement reached the duchy from the royal delegate. His hand in marriage, his freedom was sold to the East for peace between the two nations.

No more drunken nights, no more mingling with sexy men and women. He was forced to settle down quietly. But (m/n) wasn't going to back down without a fight. He was angry his freedom was stolen away from him, and he was going to make whoever his suitor was suffer.

At first, he delayed his arrival to the East Empire. Dragging his attendants to stop by towns, lounging in suites and overall prolonging their time before their arrival.

(m/n) had assumed his future husband was a sleazebag. An old pervert who had never shown his face in parties in the West. It was a nice surprise to find out that he was a kind handsome man on their wedding day.

It was disappointing to find out that he was a virgin pushover.

The prince, Daisuke Yuichi, showed not a single hint of anger towards him. Forgiving him in a second for his arrogance and that immediately gave (m/n) the hint that he could get away with anything as much as possible in the palace.

It was boring as well, if he was commanding at least he would have some fun in the sheets.

And him suddenly increasing his allowance, sending him gifts just showed how submissive this little prince was. (m/n) had him wrapped around his little finger already, he thought.

Yesterday, he had been in contact with a few architects since he wanted a new villa. He had multiple estates in the West but with his sudden moving, he wanted assets in the East as well. And he thought he could get his request approved but he was stunned to find it denied. The consequences were a few broken mirrors and him running away.

He handed the reigns of his horse to a worker, settling in a small town in the rural parts as he entered a lively bar, opting to ask the bartender where he could stay for the night.

(m/n) got a few winks here and there and even some paid drinks, all he did was blow a kiss and chugging them down blissfully as he headed to a moderately-sized inn.

He passed out on the bed, whining about the lack of sex for the past month as he clutched the bottle of vodka in his arms.

The consort had no clear of objective where to embark to. He thought of just journeying along the paths until he reached the borders so he could see where he can built his future villa. A horse and a small satchel with a dream.

The morning after, there was a ruckus in town. He groggily peeked out from the curtains to see guards with the Eastern insignia questioning people, a barrage of carriages and overall military personnel.

"...what the fuck..." He quietly closed the blinds as he recollected the very few items he had brought. Did the prince launch a manhunt??

He didn't think that his search would be this intense but holy fuck he's not intending to get caught like this.

He still wore the previous night's outfit, a linen blue blouse with khakis and carved boots fashioned with a cloak. He felt his heart racing when heavy footsteps tracked down the halls.

There were banging on other doors, inspecting the tenants and (m/n) immediately hid himself in a closet when his room was next.

There were heavy knocking and he held his breath in when the door was kicked open. Some yelling here and there, the (h/c) was just begging for them to leave.

"No sign of the consort!"

FUCK! They WERE looking for him. He bit his nails nervously as the chevaliers left his room to torture some other poor tenants of the inn. His mind scrambled, on what to do in this scenario.

Sure he had made a few attempts at running away before but his brother was the one who had capsized his attempts and he was at least gentle about it. These dogs looked like they wouldn't give a fuck if he lost a finger in the process.

He waited patiently in the dark closet until there were no noises outside of the window as he clambered down from the furniture and dashed out his room.

He hurriedly went to the stables, struggling to pull the ropes off of his horse when his shoulder was grabbed.

"Your Grace?"

"...FUCK-"

-

The guards were tired from an overnight search. Two of them, had been scouting the woods and stumbled across the small town and informed headquarters who sent a squad to do a full sweep.

After it was done, all they had to do was look out for any stragglers and proceed to the next stop. It was their luck to find the hunted man, the consort himself attempting to untie his horse in a rented stable.

"HOW THE HELL DID YOU FIND ME?!!"

The (h/c) had struggled, kicking and yelling as they forcefully tied his wrists together, due to him still attempting to flee with some felt rope bound to a wooden pole outside of the stables.

One of the guards only stared unimpressed at the consort's accessories, his bracelets, rows of ring and a small diamond necklace. Who else was the missing husband of the crown prince. It was a miracle he hadn't been robbed.

There was a flustered expression on the (h/c)'s face who seemed to be embarrassed by the attracting crowd of the locals who had careened around to gaze at the infamous capture while he only sat defeated on the dirt floor.

"The next troop should be making their rounds over here, luckily that one should have the Crown Prince leading." "All we have to do is wait." They high-fived each other, standing guard while ignoring the yelling and cursing consort behind them.

It didn't take long for the consort to wear himself out and the next barrage of army to arrive. The prince's personal knight had been the one to came to them first, glancing at the dirty consort and walked over to the grand carriage that obviously carried the prince, opening the carriage.

"Shit shit shit-!" (m/n) cursed at himself, more pumped to free himself from embarrassment and his restraints as he pulled his wrists against the ropes, etching the material into his skin. He hissed in pain but he felt his heart dropped when he saw a familiar mop of black hair walking towards him in silver armour.

"...What is this?"

(e/c) eyes didn't dare to raise upon hearing the seething voice of the once kind prince. "I said what the hell is this?!" Daisuke turned to the two guards who supposedly had caught the consort.

"...It's the consort, Your Highness." The knight responsible for tying him jittered in nervousness, not expecting the aggression. The prince, clad in full armour with a cape, gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching as he snatched the collar of one of the guards. "If you knew he was my husband, then tell me why he's tied up like a stray dog!" He hissed, enraged at the fact (m/n) was on the ground, his wrists tied to a pole like a dirty mutt.

"Untie him immediately!" He threw the guard to the pole by his collar who staggered to cut the ropes. "Two trained knights couldn't restrain an unarmed man?! How stupidly incompetent do you have to be!" Daisuke was yelling, cursing at the guards while the rest of the squad watched.

(m/n) just sat helplessly, silently watching the knights cut through his restraints and he breathed a sigh of relief when his limbs were free from the ropes. Daisuke grabbed his hands, examining the burns as he looked at his consort in the eye.

The (h/c) didn't dare to look at the prince, silently facing to the side as he was pulled up by the arm, Daisuke grabbing him firmly and shoving him into the carriage while the rest of them bowed to the royals.

He was forced to sit beside the prince, his hands clammy and his clothes dirty while Daisuke was staring straight ahead, still fuming regarding the consort. It was painfully awkward until they reached a cabin for the horses and the men to rest, they had been searching for the missing consort overnight.

Once again, the consort was roughly manhandled upstairs into the cabin by Daisuke, while the rest of them camped outside. (m/n) pulled himself away from the prince once they were inside the privacy of the bedroom.

"Give me your hand." Daisuke's voice was firm, on edge and (m/n) silently held out his wrists as the prince took out a bottle of ointment from an emergency kit. Dabbing a cotton pad onto the opening of the bottle and carefully swiping it on the consort's burns.

"You should've been careful. The subjects are not familiar with you. You could've gotten hurt." The incessant rambling was annoying to (m/n) as he huffed. "I was fine. I can take care of myself."

The prince paused, looked up to him with a fierce glare. "You? Take care of yourself? I doubt you can even wield a knife." "I was only out for a stroll. Do I have to be accompanied twenty four-seven just for some fresh air?"

"You were missing for two days! No guards, no attendants! You could've died!" The consort pulled himself away from the prince, annoyed. "I was FINE! I'm still alive, aren't I?? Stop acting so paranoid and just leave me be.

Daisuke stood, now pissed. "Leave you be?? You have been avoiding me ever since our wedding. Rejecting my requests of audience like some arrogant prick!" "Oh I'm so sorry, Your Royal Highness! I should've licked your boots from the moment I arrived." The (h/c) mocked the prince.

"Watch your tone with me." Daisuke seethed, the consort scoffing, crossing his arms. "Or what? I doubt you would punish me for a trivial matter."

"I don't understand your hostility against me. I could've had you hung the moment you slapped me at our dinner." "But you didn't. You let it slide. I've trampled over you numerous times but you didn't give a single damn. It's not my fault the Prince of the East is a feeble PUSHOVER!"

If Daisuke was mad moments ago, he was now absolutely enraged. He stepped to the consort and grabbed him by his jaw. "I said, watch your shitty tone with me." He scowled.

"Or what?" (m/n) smirked. "What will you do, Princey." That stupid name pissed Daisuke off. He grabbed the (h/c)'s arm and tossed him onto the bed, the latter yelping while the prince started to remove his armour.

"I'm aware you've been whoring yourself to the knights. Tell me, have you had such an itch between your legs that you couldn't even keep them closed?" Daisuke felt his face grew hot with anger, tearing off his chest and shoulder plates from his figure, revealing his tight undershirt hugging his body.

"You-...I didn't do anything with them." (m/n) stammered, embarassed that his secrets of flirting with the guards had been leaked. He watched as Daisuke kicked the rest of his armour off of himself. "It's not like I've slept with them, we were just talking-" "It's no use justifying yourself."

The prince suddenly climbed onto the bed as (m/n) clambered away but yelped when the ravenette tugged on his ankle. "I'm furious. You've chosen to fool around with some second-level chavelier instead of seeing your own husband."

"You wouldn't care! Even if I fucked your father, you wouldn't give a single damn-" (m/n)'s head tossed to the side, his cheek burning in pain. He had just been slapped.

The consort looked up to the prince in shock. "You...Even my father has never-" "Well I'm not your fucking daddy, am I?"

Something rose in the (h/c)'s pants, there was a dark look in Daisuke's eyes that sent shivers down the consort's spine. He felt his breath becoming heavy as the prince leaned down to his face.

"If you're to disobey me once again, I'll strip you naked and feed you to the wolves. Do I make myself clear?" Daisuke glared into shaky (e/c) eyes, but he felt something throbbing pressing against his pelvis and he looked down.

He scoffed, unimpressed at the (h/c)'s erection. "Was this what you wanted? Me claiming you from the start? I'm over here furious at your behaviour and your cock is hard?" (m/n) shook his head, flustered. "I just- it's-" He couldn't find the words to defend himself of how he was so turned on getting threatened from his husband.

"It's been a while since I-" "And I haven't gotten a chance to taste you, rascal. To think you've messed around with my knights." (m/n) let out a flustered moan as Daisuke roughly groped his chest.

"Let's see if the peace between our nations was really worth the hassle."

-

There was stuttered moans, whimpers in the small bedroom, (m/n) covering his face with his arms. His body barely covered with his tattered shirt. His pants were tossed to the back with Daisuke lazily twirling the fountain pen he found in one of the cupboards.

The consort's bottom half was propped up with a pillow underneath, his legs dangling on armrests, Daisuke had pulled up a chair near the edge of the bed and slumped himself in it.

Currently, the (h/c) was exposed, his shirt torn in half and his hole twitchy being prodded by the pen in Daisuke's hand. The prince pushed, and swirled it around, stretching his dry rim.

(m/n) mewled, his body hot and he didn't like how he was the only one naked. He was deprived of sex for weeks and it was a pleasure for him to be toyed by the prince, who he thought he didn't even had the balls to pounce on him.

"Uncover your face. I didn't take you to be the shy type." (m/n) choked on his saliva when the pen was thrusted into his ass up to its hilt and his hips squirmed, uncomfortable and tingling from the length. "I-It's too dry- Mmnn! It hurts- anghh!"

"Oh nowww you're listening to me. When I finally put something in your ass is the moment you decided to stop being a brat." (m/n) couldn't see Daisuke's expression right now, if he did he bet he could squirt in seconds.

A firm grip on his cock made him mewl again, a throaty cry leaving his wet lips. "I said...uncover your face." The consort's heart was beating out of his chest as he slowly placed his arms to the side.

Daisuke felt amused, (e/c) teary, a flustered aroused expression on the consort's face. Far different than the defiant side he had faced all this time. He could feel his own cock throbbing in his pants.

He pressed the pen in deeper, (m/n) gargling and groaning in response. "D-Daisuke-" "Be formal. Respect me as your prince."

The (h/c) frowned, frustrated. "Your Highness..." He peeked up at the prince whose face was red, flushed with arousal and amusement.

"Good boy."

His cock spurted short ropes of cum in Daisuke's hand, the owner himself staring at his wet genital in shock. "H-How did I...?" Even the consort himself was confused how could he, a man who had slept with an abundant men and women previously, came extremely quick at the hands of the Eastern prince who had yet to shed a single garment.

"So you are a slut." Daisuke's tone was mundane. As if he was bored, unimpressed. (m/n)'s eyebrows were furrowed, his teeth clenching as he stared at his cock being slowly jacked off by the ravenette.

"I just c-came- wait wait!" He held in a breath as he endured his coming down from an orgasm with Daisuke fapping his cock agonizingly in slow but firm strokes. "Am I supposed to care?" The prince spoke with an arrogant tone.

The consort whined, his hips bucking and he clenched around the pen in his anus. His ass flinched when the prince took a glass decanter and pour the liquid inside down his cock, flowing down his base, slipping on the curve of his balls and coating the exposed pen and his clenching rim.

"Wh-What was that?" He panicked, his nether region feeling unusually hot. "You said you were dry." Daisuke brushed off the consort's worries, pulling out the pen and stuck his bare fingers inside, massaging his rim.

His fingertips dug into his hole, caressing his squelching walls, Daisuke observing (m/n)'s reaction who became more and more flustered. His hand that was gripping (m/n)'s cock went to flick his nipples, the consort cried out in shock.

The (h/c) bit his bottom lip, his eyes drowsy as he felt his body becoming more hot. He arched his back as he clambered to remove the remains of his torn shirt.

"Feeling warm?" (m/n) nodded to the prince's question, propping his hands up to support his body while getting his ass fingered by the prince. "What was in that decanter?" He moaned out.

"Emergency supplies. Used for wounds and cramps, I suppose its a fine substitute for a quick lube job." The (h/c) groaned in frustration, whimpering in hot discomfort. His previous partners had never been sloppy with him, only using expensive products and treating him like glass.

The prince, who sensed that the consort was complaining in his head yet again, grabbed his neck and brought him to his face. "Be grateful that I'm prepping you. Any man as angry as I am would've torn you apart by now. A 'thank you' would suffice."

(m/n) choked, still denying until Daisuke's fingers suddenly jammed roughly into his hole, two knuckles deep. "T-Thank you, Your Highness..." He whimpered.

Daisuke finally got the appreciation he wanted. He licked a stripe up (m/n)'s cheek, his fingers clenching the (h/c)'s jaw. Pressing a deep kiss into his cheek, he whispered into the consort's ear. "Now that's sensible."

(m/n) suddenly felt pissed off.

"I'll spit in your face if you don't back up." He snarled at the prince. Daisuke only rolled his eyes. "Tell your cock to stop leaking pre, then I'll release you." (m/n) groaned, still hating that he was the only one naked.

"Take off your clothes. It's not fair I'm the only one stripped." Sighing, the prince released his grips and took out his fingers. (m/n) squirming at the empty feeling left in his hole as the prince stood, kicking the chair away.

"Undress me." He ordered the consort. The (h/c) frowned but kneeled on the mattress nonetheless, climbing over the pillow as he roughly tugged off the prince's shirt, resisting the urge to punch his glaring face.

He pulled the belt off of his waist but when it came to his pants, (m/n) leaned his body down and used his teeth, pushing the button through the slit using his tongue and ripped the rest of the waistband halfway with his teeth. The prince groaned, stroking his (s/c) bare back.

The consort's body was pushed down, (m/n) knocked onto the bed in his back as Daisuke pulled his thighs forward, hiking his legs onto his shoulder. His bottom was propped once again by the pillow.

"Make sure not to cum so quick." (m/n) smirked, alluding to the fact that Daisuke was a virgin. The prince pulled out his cock...his big, big cock and scoffed.

"Confide that to yourself."

(m/n) accidentally bit his tongue when Daisuke pulled his hips back, slapping his ass against his naked groin. He felt heat bloom in his stomach, instantly full in his hole. "A-ahh mmh ahh-" He whimpered, staring up at the ceiling in debauched shock.

His thighs quivered as the prince had a bruising grip on his waist, pushing him back before slamming his cock inside again. A short scream dwelled from his throat as he felt his ass pierced.

The (h/c)'s nails dug into the cotton sheets below him as he endured blows from the prince who began to rut his cock roughly into his strained ass. He almost screeched at the sheer intensity of his thrusts the ravenette bestowed, the heat curling in his stomach once again.

Daisuke had been angry. Angry ever since that stupid dinner. But he was raised to be fair, to be just so he put himself in (m/n)'s shoes but all the disrespect, the arrogance the consort protrude hacks away at his patience.

He tried to be loving, giving the (h/c) space but all he received was spats of degrading and defiant remarks. All of those resentment began to pile in the back of his mind and eventually burst when he received the news of the consort fleeing from the palace.

He was angry that the consort put himself in danger, he was also enraged on how the man even flirted with others while leaving his husband in the dark.

It all lead to this moment, him fucking his mountain of vexation into the squirming melting (h/c).

"Haa- anhh!" Another spout of creamy semen splurted from the tip of (m/n)'s dick, slipping down and dripping onto his own stomach.

Daisuke could see the confusion and frustration etched on the consort's face. He held in a sly laugh as he bend his body down, pressing his head next to the consort's.

"Don't jinx yourself, quickshot." He teased the (h/c). The latter smacked his back to which Daisuke quickly humping his dick into the squelching hole, chasing his high.

"Wait wait! Not inside-!" He breathed a long sigh of relief, cumming long ropes of baby batter in the consort's hole.

(m/n) squirmed, feeling sticky as he tried to push the prince off. "You bitch. You cunt, I told you not to cum in me-!" He hissed.

It was a little secret he hold to himself, the (h/c) loooves people cumming inside of him but he wouldn't dare show it to the prince. However, Daisuke seemed to read his mind, apart from his still hard and twitching cock, he moved the consort to lay on his side.

"I'm not done. You have a month's worth of payback, consort." Daisuke spat on the (h/c)'s stomach who showed clear disgust and disapproval. "You shitty bitch." He scowled. A strangled gasp left his throat when the prince curled his hand around his neck, moving him up and down, choking him with his grip and his cock.

The more feisty the (h/c) was, the rougher his thrusts gotten, Daisuke gripped the consort's wrist with his other free hand, leaving him to claw at the sheets with only one, limiting (m/n) to ground himself who was squirming, going cockdrunk on his penis.

(m/n) was confused, scared why he was so turned on by the prince and his rough treatment. He couldn't stop cumming so many times on the prince's cock and the prince kept nutting inside of him despite his pleas not to do so.

His left leg was hooked on Daisuke's shoulder as he was pounded sideways, at one point he had came twice during one round, the prince degrading and slapping his ass for his whorish achievement.

Clenching around Daisuke, (m/n)'s thighs shook, his head fuzzy and eyes glossy with tears. The (h/c) dug his nails into Daisuke's strong arms, who had planted his hands beside his head.

How much fucking stamina did this monster had? (m/n) whined, wishing for the prince to finish already.

It wasn't until the seventh round that he started to cry.

At that point, his stomach was covered with a layer of cum and spit. His cheeks were hot with flowing tears, begging the prince to just hurry and cum inside him already.

"I c-can't anymore- mmf! Please- hurry up- hngg!" He sobbed, streaks of teardrops on his face. The prince only stared down at him with a detached expression, as if his body was boring to him. "I'll stop when I feel like it."

He screamed when Daisuke clenched his tip. "Maybe you should stop creaming so many times." (m/n) wailed another cry, pushing the prince's chest away as he somehow adjusted his body, rotating himself so he was lying on his stomach.

It appeared that would prompt the prince more who began groping and massaging his ass, slapping it once and twice while still shoving his cock in and out of his hole.

(m/n) drooled onto the sheets, his dick shoved and dragged against the duvet. His eyes widened as he got a glimpse of his state.

There was an old oval mirror, the top half covered with a linen sheet but the bottom was bare, reflecting (m/n)'s current position in the dim room.

He looked at himself and he couldn't recognise who he was. The once proud, bratty son of a duke was a mere dirty, squelching, crying, cum-filled hole under the prince. Daisuke was still going strong, gripping his butt cheek and ramming himself into his dripping hole. He couldn't believe that the man above him was a virgin.

Maybe he was wrong. Angering and pouring fuel onto the calm and kind prince, he thought he could take advantage of. Fooling around, refusing to grant him audience despite having the position as his husband. And to think of all the gifts the prince had given him as a means of peace, he either tossed aside or used for his own pleasure while brushing off his efforts.

Daisuke leaned down onto him, (m/n) tiredly watching him through the reflection on the mirror and he screamed when the prince planted his teeth into his nape, biting into his skin. He mewled, squirting hot semen onto the sheets again, as Daisuke claimed him by biting his neck like a wild animal.

"I-I..." His voice was weak, throat sore from moaning and crying so much. "M' sorry." He could feel the prince's thrusts slowing down before coming to a stop. The prince released him from his bite, he was sure there had to be bits of blood from the mark.

"What?" His tone sounded confused, as if (m/n) was the most arrogant bitch he ever met that even an apology sounded like he heard the singing of an angel.

"I'm sorry...for what I did...for all this time..." He muttered in broken words, his face sweaty and his mouth slobbered with spit. The consort mumbled more apologies, of what he did, for slapping him, for dismissing his audience, flirting with other men.

"..." Daisuke seemed to be quiet before he pulled out of the consort. (m/n) cried when his hair was pulled up as he was forced to his knees. His hands gripping at Daisuke's who clenched his grip on his scalp. "If I catch you wagging your tail around other men again, I'll sell you to a brothel. Do you understand?"

The consort weakly nodded, inching closer to the hard and wet cock that laid against his ass crack. It seemed that Daisuke had also noticed the mirror, the prince's eyes wide glaring at him through the reflection.

"I-I won't. I just want your cock. O-Only yours- mmn!" He bit his bottom lip, when the prince grinded himself against the (h/c)'s sensitive and stinging ass. "I'm sorry."

(m/n) had realised that this was a battle. A battle of their opposite attributes. As if the striking lightning and the ear-shattering thunder clashed with Daisuke coming out on top. And he had lost in the waves of their disputing dynamic.

He submitted himself to the prince, finally lowering his ego.

"Put it in." He breathed out, glancing behind him, his teary (e/c) eyes striking the prince right in the chest.

Daisuke seemed taken aback, his grip faltering before he gently pulled the consort back so he could rest on his chest. They were both on their knees, (m/n) breathing slowly, his body lax against Daisuke's as he rested his head beside's Daisuke's jaw.

He could feel semen dripping out of his hole as the prince carefully held his hips, avoiding the dents in his waist from his fingers as he angled his tip to kiss his hole.

(m/n) sucked in a breath, Daisuke slowly shuffling his cock inside his ass, contrast to how they first started.

His body was bounced on his dick, the prince moving him using his hips and he moaned loudly, throwing his head back. Daisuke stared at him, his eyes half-lidded as he gently prodded his nose onto the consort's cheek.

The innocent touching lead the prince hovering above his lips. Daisuke delicately pressed a kiss onto the consort, who accepted the gesture fondly as the innocent affection turned into tongue-tying lust. They were making out while (m/n)'s bouncing and Daisuke's thrusting became more fervent, chasing their orgasm together.

(m/n) mewled loudly into the prince's mouth, Daisuke immediately sucking on his bottom lip as the (h/c) came. The prince groped his chest, and fondled his sensitive cock while his staggering hips was rutting up into the consort as he creamed inside one last time.

Slowly, they both fell on their sides, (m/n) unable to move, his body immobile. Daisuke gently pulled out, breathing heavily from what was the first and best sex of his life.

-

He woke up alone.

The prince groggily sat up, his bottom half numb as he forced himself to open his eyes. Morning rays of sunlight entered the room through the curtains and he stretched his torso like a cat before turning to his right.

His heart dropped as he noticed no signs of the consort, finally remembering what happened the evening before as he clambered to slip on a robe and was about to trudge downstairs before he noticed the bathroom door was slightly open and the running of tap water.

Carefully, he creaked the door open, peaking inside to find the (h/c) submerged in the wooden bathtub, quietly washing himself.

(m/n) perked up when he noticed the prince opening the door. "Your Highness..." It seemed that the (h/c) had woken up earlier than the ravenette, opting to wash himself first.

Daisuke staggered, his legs still weak. "...I'm sorry, I fell asleep. I couldn't clean you-" "It's fine." (m/n) assured the prince, before looking away and closing the tap water.

There was something different about the (h/c), Daisuke noticed. He seemed more fragile? More delicate. Well, it was the first time he wasn't shouting to his face.

He was still standing in the middle of the loo awkwardly before they both spoke at the same time.

"Would you like to join me?" "May I join you?"

Both of them seemed taken aback at the coincidence, Daisuke more flustered as (m/n) nudged his head as an offer to join him. The prince disrobed himself, (m/n) looking away as Daisuke carefully stepped inside the already small tub.

The tub was small, cramp even to fit the both of them. The (h/c) hugging his legs, his chin on his knees as he mindlessly splashed the water around him.

Daisuke was staring, his eyes gazing over (s/c) skin, his shoulders, his wet hair. His mundane expression is what drawn him in. Half-lidded eyes staring at the water, fingers gently poking at the surface tension. It wasn't bad. It was peaceful.

"...I'm going to wash myself now."

(m/n)'s voice broke him out of his trance, the consort staring back at him and Daisuke noticed that the tub of liquid soap on the cabinet behind him.

"...Would you like me to help?" "It would be nice."

(m/n)'s voice sounded very fond, melodic almost as Daisuke began to lather the soap and scrub it into (h/c) strands, smoothing it over his skin gently. The consort did the same for the prince and at the moment Daisuke truly felt like they were acting as a married couple.

His heart felt full and when (m/n) turned his body around, Daisuke suddenly went forward to hug his back. His arms enveloping around the consort's figure, the latter who was about to step out was restricted as he glanced at the ravenette.

"Sorry...just give me a few minutes." He mumbled, planting his face into the consort's shoulders. Daisuke could feel the (h/c) sighing and leaning into his touch, and they stayed there.

The prince kissed the marks he left last night, where he had animalistically sank his teeth into the consort. His lips gently traced his teeth marks, as if to apologise to the consort. (m/n) only leaned into his touch further, letting the ravenette express his affection. They stayed for a while, until the water turned murky and their fingertips were wrinkly.

When (m/n) was about to exit the tub, he heaved himself up but his hold slipped in the process, his lower half clearly more immobile from the previous evening and Daisuke cutting in to make sure he doesn't fall.

The prince stepped out first, tied a towel around himself and laying out another on a spare table. He reached into the tub to cradle the (h/c) and pulled him out of the tub. The water splashing out from the edges.

"You don't have to-" "It's only decent if I do." He stopped the (h/c) from refusing him any longer. And it had an impact on the consort.

(m/n) was carried by the prince into the bedroom and was gently placed on the clean side of the bed. Daisuke asking an attendant for two sets of clean clothes and when it arrived, he helped his husband dress before they headed downstairs for breakfast.

They dined together, and Daisuke thought it would be awkward or maybe a pitiful attempt at small talk but (m/n) was quiet. Nimbly chewing at his Danish ice cream toast, and the prince followed suit, basking in the peaceful atmosphere.

Some of the guards peeked at the pair, expecting Daisuke to yell at him or the consort to rebel since they heard the rumours of them not getting along backed up by their public arguments but they found the two to be surprisingly civil with each other. Daisuke opening the carriage for (m/n) and holding his hand when the consort stepped in as they continued their journey back to the palace.

The prince kept shooting glances at the consort, who only stared out at the window of his side, keeping to himself.

When Daisuke asked him if anything was wrong, all (m/n) did was shook his head and replying in a polite manner.

The ravenette thought he broke his consort, all up until they arrived at the palace. (m/n)'s maids wailed in relief at the sight of him as they hurriedly tended to the consort, who still maintained his monotone expression.

Daisuke wiped his face in agony as Ivan asked what the hell had happened.

"I think...I was too rough on him..."

The secretary irked and ushered the prince into the throne hall to report to the emperor.

-

"How embarassing..."

(m/n) mumbled to himself, pulling at a soft handkerchief as the servants presented him a large treasure chest.

"It is a present from His Highness for you, Your Grace." The butler announced, opening the chest, revealing an abundance of shiny gold coins with jewels and gems scattered about. His maids behind him had their eyes shining, drooling over the treasure.

It had been a day since he returned from his escape. All he did was recuperate in his room from his tranquil state and he had slept early that evening so when the prince asked for dinner together, he didn't get to accept.

He felt like he made peace with his circumstances, with his arranged marriage, although he did felt abashed regarding the whole 'running away' incident. The consort plucked the card on top of the mountain of coins.

"For the villa..." He mumbled the words written on the card. "This prick." (m/n) rubbed his forehead as he turned to his maids.

"Help me get dressed. I'm paying a visit to my husband."

-

Daisuke was frustrated. There were some troubles stirring up at the Western borders and there were complications were the ministers refuse to cooperate to handle the increase in thugs and crime.

He was fast at writing down letters and signing documents but his mind wandered to his consort. There was his guilty conscience, screaming at him of why he treated his husband so roughly on their first night together.

A piece of himself tried to justify while the rest of him only felt remorse and thought they were back at square one when the consort didn't respond to his invitation for last night's dinner. He perked up when his door was pushed open.

-

(m/n) could hear gasps and whispers from the servants, he rolled his eyes and glared at a few of them who immediately scuttled away as he trotted past them. Ivan was behind him, he himself was taken aback when he requested to see Daisuke as he led him to the prince's office.

The guards bowed to him as they pushed the door open, revealing a shocked ravenette who had his mouth wide open in shock.

"(m/n)...I mean, Lord (m/n)! What are you doing here-" "Was this supposed to be compensation?"

Daisuke squinted his eyes at the card (m/n) was holding. The one he sent along with the treasure chest. "Compensation?" "Was this compensation for my body?"

Immediately, Ivan excused himself, shutting the doors close. Daisuke stood to defend himself. "What- no! It's for the villa. It's what you wanted, right?" (m/n) glared at the card before crushing it in his grip. "It felt like you only sent it because we slept together, Your Highness."

"I-" The prince sighed. "Look, I'm not in the mood to argue today. Can we just not do this?" He groaned, sitting back in his chair, going over the papers again. (m/n) stared at him before his eyes trailed to the rest of the interior.

Picture frames, bookshelves, even a lounge couch and a coffee table in burgundy and brown accents. He walked around the office, trailing his fingers over the decoration. "Do you stay in here often, Your Highness?"

Daisuke eyed the consort, his fingers massaging his forehead. "...I do. It's my office, I do all my paperwork here." (m/n) hummed, as he placed back a book he had pulled out, not fully understanding the writing.

"...I see that you're in distress, Your Highness. More than usual today." Daisuke wasn't sure if that was a jab at how heated he gets during their arguments or out of genuine concern. "...There's some trouble at the borders. The West is not cooperating currently. I'll have to refer to my father for this matter."

(m/n) leaned on the table, his palm close to Daisuke's hand as the consort kneeled down in front of the prince, pushing him and his chair back. "What are you doing?!" Daisuke had a clear blush on his face, his face abashed and (m/n) could already see the rising tent in his pants.

"...the sex yesterday was nice. It was really nice." "...Oh..." And here the prince was worried he was too malicious with the consort. "Usually, I'd prefer some physical aftercare." "Physical?" "Just...holding me would be nice."

(m/n) swiped or tied his hair back. "But it seemed that you are in need of a different type of care, Your Highness." Daisuke's eyes widened as the (h/c) tugged his zipper down.

He was jitterish, his fingers shaky as the consort gave him the best head he ever had. The first one, in fact and (m/n) left him in his office in a fucked out state, wiping his mouth.

His personal guard peeked inside to see Daisuke drooling on his desk, his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

Ever since then, the consort had frequent visits to the Grand Palace where Daisuke resided. He would often lounge in his office while the prince worked and Daisuke really favoured this new outcome.

They would banter every now and then but it wouldn't turn into a full-blown argument and he was grateful for that on its own. Meals were shared and they would go on walks in the garden together, he found out the (h/c) preferred the greenhouse the most.

They even went on a date! A tour of the capital like Daisuke had promised on their wedding day although he couldn't deny he was a bit jealous when (m/n) revealed some of the places he brought the (h/c) to had been visited by him and his guards.

Speaking of, Daisuke replaced all of the knights that had previously attended to the consort, switching out with older and more loyal guards, some of them returning from wars. The prince just wanted to make sure (m/n) had no paladdins he would be attracted to.

"You can always claim me again." The (h/c) bit the ravenette's ear when Daisuke told him of the new rearrangement. Cue to them fucking like rabbits in the library, knights were scarred as they stood guard outside.

It also seemed that the prince was slowly introduced to public affection. (m/n) touching him fondly or even teasingly in open places. He wasn't used to this but he was slowly adapting. He was also very pleased when he received no more reports of the (h/c) fooling around with other men, maybe his faux warning worked a bit too well.

Although the consort had been acting a bit too bold lately.

"What do you mean I can't enter?! He's my husband!"

Daisuke quickly diffused the situation, fetching (m/n) who was outside of his chambers, arguing with some of the guards who had refused his entry due to him occupied in the bath.

"Next time, let him pass freely." He whispered to one of the paladdins as (m/n) slumped on Daisuke's bed, noting the immediate sinking the mattress had. He propped himself up sideways while the maids helped the prince tidy himself up after his bath.

The (h/c) frowned, seeing the ravenette exposed around others, with water droplets dripping down his muscles, his bathrobe giving a window to his chest, and the fluffy robe was NOT hiding the fact that he had a huge dick.

"How long are they going to be here?"

As soon as those words escaped the consort's lips, half of the maids present froze, hesitating to continue with their chores as Daisuke turned to his husband.

"Do you prefer I use butlers instead?" He offered to switch, he didn't want (m/n) to have any discomfort of him being bare around the opposite sex.

"...No." "...Then is there a problem?"

(m/n) had been lying on his stomach, swinging his legs playfully before he rolled himself over on his back. "It's best if they weren't in the room for now." He purred, looking at Daisuke dead in the eyes as he teasingly spread his legs.

"Oh." The prince slapped himself in the face, letting his palm stay on his cheek as he sat there in growing arousal. "Leave."

The servants followed as they're told and the prince raised his face when the door clicked shut. "You ought to stop being so bold, Lord (m/n)." He groaned, although stripping himself and climbing over the (h/c).

"Just (m/n) is fine." The consort purred, wrapping his arms around the prince's neck, swiping his tongue on his lips together.

The longer Daisuke was around (m/n), the more he realised how much of a vixen he had in his arms. The (h/c) was so experienced and demanding in bed, intentionally moaning loudly about how big his cock is just so he could embarrass Daisuke although the prince was more than happy to indulge into his carnal desires.

The prince stared up at the ceiling, the room was dark, curtains shut closed, his plans to venture out to the ministry cancelled, he laid in his bed next to the similarly naked consort.

In his mind, he thought back to his childhood dreams, of owning a fairytale love story.

"What are you thinking of?"

He glanced to his left to see (m/n) on his side, staring at the prince while pulling up the blanket up to his chest. "Nothing, really." "Liar, you were really deep in thought."

"..." Daisuke contemplated whether he should reveal his childish dreams. "...When I was a kid, my father would tell me stories. Storybooks, of prince and princesses. And I thought that maybe one day, I get to have my own fairy tale too."

The consort next to him was quiet, although he didn't see his expression, still staring up to his painted ceiling.

"And I just thought of the present."

There were some rustling and the consort placed his head directly next to his, touching shoulders. (m/n) was frowning, his arm reaching to hug Daisuke at his waist. "I mean, life changes doesn't it? The fact that we're even tolerating each other is something we should be thankful for."

"That is true." "You're still in fret. Did you not get the happy ending you desired?"

The prince actually gave some thought into it. A stupid decision, and it hurt the consort. "It was not the one that I expected but I'm satisfied regardless."

"...Good to know..."

Daisuke felt the consort pull back and faced his body away from him. The prince pondered for a moment at the sudden change in behaviour. He wordlessly went up behind the (h/c), pulled him close, his chest to (m/n)'s back and silently went to sleep, unaware of the brewing storm thundering in the consort's mind.

[END SCENE]

[unedited]

PREVIEW FOR...

DEAREST HUSBAND [PART II]

ROYALLY FUCKED [PART III]

Afterthoughts...

Daisuke and (m/n) after discovering hate sex:

Surprise! This will be a three-part installment. I forgot how much I loveee writing historical fiction and i just had so many ideas i couldnt fit them into one!

I really did try to aim how the reader isnt completely in the right although he is somewhat justified (will be further explored). Theres some clashing where Daisuke Yuichi is canonically Japanese but the aesthetic here is European-based so please forgive my inaccuracy this one time. I thought of involving interracial marriage but i didnt want to overcomplicate things.

If you read the part where Daisuke asked how (m/n)'s language was good, it hinted that one of the other reason our reader arrived late to the palace was him sleeping around with men of the East.

And yeah, the ending part. Daisuke lowkey in the wrong. I would be so offended if my husband said that, idc if arranged or not.

Ill release the second chapter if i like how the audience receives this one! (As in if u guys like it or not haha) im very hoping to find a beta reader btw. Stay tuned!

Taglist:

@tehyunnie @rainnyydaysworld @webwanderer @a-short-ass-disappointment @chikai-k @mello-life25 @miyuuuki @simpsations @sugar-p0p @kiiyoooo @helloanime @garlicforthewin @jaxyy219 @mikahrh @gayaristocrat @m4r13ll @pinxeajin @gyarukitti @syyyy4ever

[bitchlessdino]

scream : the death of a nympho (m)

Pairing: ghostface!seungcheol x ghostface!wonwoo x afab!reader

Genre: horror, scream au, smut

Word count: 6.8k

rating: rated R for ROUGH FUCKING SEX (probably the meanest i've ever written anyone)

tags: THIS IS COMICAL BUT VERY DARK FIC, PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. CONTENT MAY NOT SUIT MOST READERS. Morally black woncheol with no redemption arc, VIOLENCE IMAGERY (stabbing, physical fights), mentions of knives, Mentions of blood, Mentions of alcohol, humiliation, degradation kink, name calling sexually and none sexually (bitch, slut, cum bottle, ECT), manhandling, slapping kink, deep throating, face fucking, double bjs, cum swallowing, unprotected sex

Summary: This worn-out little town has seen its fair share of bloodshed, but now there are two new Ghostfaces in town—and their eyes are set on you. Someone who craves intimacy just as much as they enjoy sinking their daggers into something.

author note: thank you @highvern for being a great betaread, they got some giggles in so i hope you guys get to as well! This idea was initially requested and offered by @smileysuh and I hope you enjoy the journey babes!!!

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @kyeomiis @wonwooz1-blog @horanghaezone @stagefrjghts @pantumin @aaniag @mochisdayone @gyuguys

The town has witnessed its fair share of bloodshed, with pages upon pages of stories about murders staining its history since its settlement. Transplants from the past couple of decades knew of the Ghostface murders, had experienced their horrors, and were relieved to finally learn the identities of what they believed to be the only culprits, known by the nicknames BL and SM. What they didn’t seem to grasp was that there was a lineage—a deep-rooted legacy that would take the eradication of many Ghostfaces to completely sever.

One that has yet to happen. But now there was another problem.

With nothing left but their dread, the townies embraced twisted ways of coping. They chased oblivion in reckless sex and drugs, feeding a festering culture of heightening promiscuity and sexual deviants to businesses catering to their darkest urges. But this decay only primed the ground for blood, making it easier to spill.

The Ghostfaces, known privately among themselves as the Spirituals, saw it as their duty to cleanse the town. In their eyes, there was no room for the filth that seemed to taint their almost perfect town, and so they took matters into their own hands, delivering judgment on their own terms.

Seungcheol took after his father, who was currently detained after being caught serving judgment to the town’s notorious transplant mayor, infamous for his monthly group-sex gatherings. Now, as the head of the Spirituals, Seungcheol was determined to continue following his father’s creed, not once forgetting the scripture carved into him as a child.

Whereas Wonwoo took after his mother, a caretaker of many children within their society's education system who had fallen in sacrifice for the greater good. Now the right-hand man to the leader of the Spirituals, once a soldier and now captain to many of its followers, he knew nothing but how to uphold and worship the Spirituals' beliefs.

They were a duo not to be reckoned with—the youngest in history to hold the highest possible ranks, and the most effective at slaying the vermin of the town. Unmatched to even their predecessors. If they wanted something to happen, they knew just how to do it.

Their targets had a history of overlooking them, their spry bodies and youthful faces seeming harmless to anyone they encountered—until their daggers found the light under a bright moon. They killed victim after victim, and were careful to not have a single clue that could be traced back to them or the society. It was the perfect ruse, ideal for victims like you.

Fresh-faced and eager to start your next chapter, you arrived in town for college and had stayed ever since. You’d dated here and there, with more than the occasional fling—so the thought of the murders never really intimidated you. As an aspiring journalist, you found the town’s dark history more fascinating than frightening. To you, it was just material for dark bedtime stories. Yet, while many who had survived the horrors saw them as more than history or folklore, those who had evaded them were a lot like you—they saw nothing to panic over, just a few rotten apples already put behind bars.

But you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been tempted to test some of the theories. Almost eager, you found yourself wanting to investigate the current-day Ghostface rumors, wondering if they might be linked to the recent disappearances.

You pondered even now, nursing your third glass of red wine, the deep red hue swirling in the glass, mesmerizing under the effects of a light buzz that calmed your body. You and the bartenders of the high end Diamond Club, Hansol and Chan, had gotten acquainted in your time here—perhaps more than necessary—so they had a good idea of your usuals, whether it was your drink of choice or preferred form of entertainment.

“Red wine tonight, I see,” Chan flirtatiously engaged, wiping down whiskey glasses.

“Tonight called for something sweet, a little treat for working so damn hard,” You replied, finishing the last bit in your glass. “Where’d Hansol go? He had just serviced me.”

“Just getting something from the back, probably more of your wine.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, setting the wine glass down politely in front of him. “You both do know me so well. I don’t suppose there’s room for me to check back there too.”

“No can do today, beautiful,” Hansol said, emerging from the backroom as he rolled up his sleeves. “We’ve got a big meeting tomorrow morning, so we need to be on our A-game.” He threw an arm around Chan, signaling caution to his coworker, then regretfully scanned your attire.

Hansol’s gaze traced over the perfect lines and curves of your dress as he tightened his grip on Chan’s shoulder, both of them watching as you patted your lips against your napkin, leaving a kiss stain in mauve-red lipstick. He knew soon enough he’d regret his responsible decision-making. “But we’ll be sure we’ll leave a slot available for you after.”

Hansol turned toward Chan, looking for reassurance as the other man held the middle seam of his pants. “Right, Chan?”

“R-right,” the other bartender responded with a tinge of disappointment.

You softly pouted. “Okay. Another time. I’ll let you guys get back to work.”

The prospects tonight were slim, but not impossible. There were group gatherings and couples, but no one alone like you—that made it more challenging, and you loved a good challenge. You turned away from the bar on your stool, twirling your freshly topped-off glass from a new bottle, and scanned the room for another late-night treat.

In the corner, you spotted a diamond in the rough—a pair of men who couldn’t seem to tear their eyes off you, each idly toying with the dark liquor in their glasses. You flashed them a sly grin before turning away just enough to keep them in your peripheral vision, watching as they drank you in. They smiled back, one darkly handsome man to the next, their gazes unmistakably intrigued.

“Isn’t that a beaut,” Seungcheol muttered under his breath, hiding it under his glass drenched in bourbon.

“They are,” Wonwoo agreed. “Their reputation precedes them. We complete our duty tonight.”

Before Wonwoo could stand to approach you, Seungcheol tugged him back down, something more than authority in his gaze. “Hold on, brother. What’s the rush? It’s not every day we come across a sacrifice as…delectable as this one. I say we take our time.”

“But, sir… Seungcheol,” Wonwoo corrected himself, remembering they were in a public setting. “We shouldn’t leave any evidence.”

“And we’ll make sure of that.” Seungcheol grinned at his capable, steadfast captain. “Besides, I saw the way you looked at them. Don’t pretend you didn’t, soldier.”

Wonwoo had looked at you—perhaps longer than he should have. Sinful deviant or not, he could understand why others found it impossible to resist you. You were a vision to behold, a captivating stain on the town he might have allowed to linger under different circumstances. But there were no exceptions in the scripture. You would meet the same fate as everyone else they’d killed.

“Nonetheless, we have demands to meet… Seungcheol.” Wonwoo’s tone was even, but his eyes held a flicker of impatience.

The elder man sighed, swirling his drink with a slow, deliberate motion. “Sure taking advantage of my given name, aren’t you…Wonwoo?” He raised a brow, an amused glint in his gaze, though his words held an edge.

“We must stay focused, even if the distraction is so… distracting,” Wonwoo replied, his voice steady but his gaze briefly drifting to you before snapping back.

Seungcheol smiled cunningly, leaning back in his chair as he let his eyes settle on you. “All I’m saying is, why not reward ourselves with a taste of their mercy? Give them a final moment of sin before they see the flames of the inferno where they belong.”

Wonwoo’s jaw tightened. “And would we not be sinning too, brother?”

Seungcheol’s smile faded, and he leaned forward his captain in arms, voice low and commanding. “You dare question my judgment?”

A silence hung heavy between them before Wonwoo let out a resigned sigh. “We need our affairs in order,” he murmured, his tone weary yet resolute.

Seungcheol scoffed, rolling his eyes as he straightened. “Fine. We’ll do it your way,” he conceded.

They adjusted their jackets, sharing a brief, knowing glance before rising from their seats and approaching you with a leisurely stride, intrigue glinting beneath their composed expressions. Seungcheol met your eyes first, flashing that boyish dimple—the one that had gotten them out of more than a few tight spots. 

“Mind if we join you?” he asked, his tone smooth, and inviting, but with an edge that hinted at something far less innocent.

Your teeth grazed your bottom lip as you gave a slight nod. “Both of you?”

“If that doesn’t intimidate you,” Wonwoo replied with a polite smile, the bar light catching his glasses and casting a faint glare that concealed the depths of his true intentions.

“Not at all. Sit.”

And they did, boxing either side of you, each exuding an intoxicating mix of decadence, spice, and something darkly earthy. The scent was almost hypnotic, stiffening the hairs on your neck. 

Every glance, every subtle movement, spoke of a carefully restrained danger, like a coiled snake waiting to wrap around its unknowing prey. Their intensity crackled in the air around you, unsettling yet somehow magnetic. Something about this pair was dangerous on belief and your gut was screaming it loud, but instead of listening, you were anchoring yourself in place, wanting to find out just what it is you should be afraid of.

“I’m Seungcheol, and my colleague here is Wonwoo. And you are?” The dimpled man asked.

As you introduced yourself, both men let your name roll off their tongues, savoring each syllable as if committing it to memory. Wonwoo angled his body toward you, his gaze intent. “That’s quite nice to say,” he murmured, repeating your name slowly, watching closely to see how you reacted to the sound of it on his lips.

“What brings you both here?” you asked, subtly crossing your legs with a teasing smile. “Date night?”

Both men chuckled, clearly amused by how effortlessly they’d caught your attention. “Something like that,” Seungcheol replied, leaning in just slightly. “We’re just looking for a nightcap before calling it a night. Came straight from the office.”

You raised a brow, laughing softly. “It’s 10 p.m. You both work this late? And turn in this early?”

“Well,” Wonwoo countered, a strategic smile on his face, “we never said how long we’d be here… or how brief our nightcap might be.”

You hummed, sipping your wine as you eyed them over the rim of your glass. “You two really do everything together.”

“Yes,” they answered in perfect unison.

“Everything together?” you pressed, a playful edge in your voice.

“Yes,” they replied again, this time with a hint of menace that made the word linger in the air just a moment too long.

The longer you stayed in their presence, the more you couldn’t shake the feeling that something about their composed demeanor didn’t sit right. Call it survivor’s intuition, but something was off. Still—“I suppose neither of you has time for anything else tonight?” you asked a slight challenge in your tone. “A way to truly acquaint ourselves before the night ends.”

“That does sound interesting,” Wonwoo mused, pretending to consider, his gaze never leaving you.

“And what better way to end the night than with a new…friend?” Seungcheol added, his smile sharp as he leaned in.

It was almost too easy. One moment, you were at the club, indulging in a reckless amount of wine courtesy of these fine gentlemen, the night unfolding in a haze of alcohol and sultry gazes. The next, you found yourself in their penthouse, entangled in a kiss with Seungcheol as Wonwoo was tearing off your clothes, the world outside suddenly distant and irrelevant.

You could feel the warmth of the man’s breath against the back of your neck. His spectacles brushed lightly against your skin as he leaned in, the metal sending a subtle shiver down your spine as you counted the beats of his pants. He explored your body with reckless abandon, uttering your name under every tender kiss.

Meanwhile, Seungcheol was evidently impatient, his lips quickly latching onto yours in a frenzy. He wasted no time tracing the surface area of your mouth, as if time were ticking and he knew that sooner or later, it would run out. “By gods, you are something else.”

He pressed up against your body, only the thin layer of your lingerie to protect you as you began to undress him, the concaves and curves of his body scorching under your fingertips. Your moans muffled under Seungcheol’s lips as Wonwoo's moans muffled under your skin, the tautness of their body sandwiching you into a sweltering trap.

“You both have no idea how much I needed this,” you panted, hands roaming in Seungcheol’s hair as his lips latched around your tits.

Wonwoo softly scoffed, loud enough to hear but soft enough to be dismissed. “On the contrary, you don’t know how badly we needed you.”

You mewled under the sounds of his false pretenses and squealed when they brought you naked over the sofa. Seungcheol took a moment to admire your vulnerability, caressing along your sides, spreading your legs so he may position himself between them, and just behind you stood Wonwoo. Impatient for something else entirely, procured a knife from under the couch, just where he had left it. 

Seconds before the spectacle man lifted it up, deciding to plunge it through your shoulder, chest, or even throat, Seungcheol stood up. “Just a moment, darling,” his eyes flickered over to the armed captain in caution, frozen with the hunter’s knife inches above you, “Me and my buddy got to do one last thing before we proceed. Wait for us patiently?”

“All right…don’t keep me waiting too long,” you purred, a slow smile curling on your lips, your heavy-lidded gaze smoldering with anticipation.

Seungcheol steered Wonwoo into a separate room, shutting the door behind them with a quiet finality. He fixed his subordinate with a piercing glare, the urge to drive him to his knees simmering just beneath the surface. “Tell me, soldier—what do you think you’re doing?”

“It’s not ‘soldier’ anymore, sir,” Wonwoo muttered, his voice tense. “I’m doing what we’re supposed to. We can’t indulge in this…” he hesitated, searching for the word, “…depravity. It only complicates the operation.”

Seungcheol stepped closer, his figure casting a shadow over Wonwoo as he instinctively leaned back, nearly cowering under the weight of his leader’s stare. “So you doubt our abilities, is that it?” he demanded, his voice low and venomous. “It’s been a minute since I took on my bitchbreaker on for a ride and you of all people are deciding to be a nuisance. If you’re so certain we can’t balance pleasure and duty, perhaps you should step aside—so I, your capable and trusted leader, can finish the job without you repeatedly defying me.”

He turned to leave, his movements sharp with frustration, but before he could take a full step, Wonwoo’s hand shot out, gripping his bicep tightly. The hold was firm, almost defiant, and Seungcheol could feel the strength behind it—a mix of resolve and the fear of regret that held Wonwoo back. Their eyes met, and in Wonwoo’s gaze was a fierce determination, teetering on the edge between loyalty and a barely restrained desire.

“I’ll follow orders,” Wonwoo said, his tone unwavering. “Your orders. I won’t question you again, sir.”

Seungcheol gave a smug smile, brushing off his right-hand man’s grip before leading him out of the room.

When they returned, they found you still lounging on the couch, but now holding something you hadn’t had before—something stark white and blinding, something that didn’t belong to you and should’ve gone unnoticed.

“Boo!” you laughed, lifting the Ghostface mask to your face with a playful grin as the rest of you was still nude, offering an enragingly tantalizing image.

Wonwoo’s voice nearly boomed as he tried to keep his rage in check, suppressing another sensation that fought him to break out. “What do you think you’re doing?” His eyes flashed a sign of panic, quickly narrowing at you. Had they been caught? Exposed? You were already a risky target, and now you were making things a lot more complicated.

You pulled the mask off with a casual smile, unfazed by the shift in Wonwoo’s demeanor, which was colder than it was moments before. “Sorry for snooping; I couldn’t resist.”

Seungcheol’s calm voice cut through the tension. “Where’d you find that?”

You held the mask in your hands, inspecting it from front to back, not fearing the consequences. “Under the coffee table,” you said, turning it over, admiring the attention to detail. “It looks really real.”

Seungcheol stepped forward, his presence looming as his eyes flickered over from the mask to you, its captor, with an intensity that bordered on possessive. “It is real. We believe it belonged to one of the original Ghostfaces...As historians, we collect these kinds of things.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Ooh,” you grinned, your lips curling in slight admiration.

Seungcheol studied you for a moment, his arms crossed in calculated intrigue. “You’re not scared?” His voice dropped slightly in defense. “Why?”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t know… I just find it more interesting than scary. And maybe kind of sexy… I don’t know.”

Wonwoo couldn’t hide his disbelief. His voice came out sharp, almost incredulous. “Sexy… you find centuries of bloodshed and thousands of lost lives sexy?”

You paused, your fingers tracing the edge of the mask. “Okay, well not that—the mask! I know it’s tied to awful, disgusting, horrific events, but…” You brought it up to your face, tilting it as you peered through the narrow slits, your voice trailing off in their signature tone of voice that the articles quote were ‘shrill and cunning.’. “There’s something about it that’s...captivating. Like, what kinds of things did they do, and why this mask? What makes it so...iconic?”

Seungcheol’s eyes darkened for a split second, a flicker of something realization passing through them, but he said nothing. Instead, he watched you with a calm amusement, his lips curling into a slight, almost imperceptible smile.

“Really?” Wonwoo’s voice cut through the silence, laced with disbelief. His eyes narrowed as he processed what you had just said, a quiet judgment simmering beneath his calm exterior. “You really think that is sexy?” His words hung in the air, thick with the implication that he couldn’t fathom how anyone could glorify such an image.

Wonwoo was quiet for a moment, his thoughts clearly racing. Yeah, I’m the one doing the killing, he thought, but they were sacrifices—an entirely different kind of thing. They were meant for the greater cause, something you could never understand. He had been the one to offer the death, to carry out the act, and yet you—you—were somehow making it seem like some kind of twisted, romanticized thrill.

He glanced at Seungcheol, whose only response was a raised eyebrow. The corners of his lips curved into that unsettlingly knowing smile, the kind that signaled anything but anger.

Seungcheol retrieved the mask from your fingertips, put it towards him, and shielded his facial features. “So if I wear it like this,” He stuck out a hand to grab you, tugging you by the waist and gliding his hand over your sides, “and touch you like this…”

His palms cupped the underside of your ass, digits digging into your flesh roughly, releasing a sharp breath from you. His body, gloriously exposed, was firm and warm, so inviting you couldn’t help but throw your arms over his shoulders to press against his waist. You stared into the eyes of the mask, stomach-churning at the increase of stimuli and you almost heard yourself growl under your breath. “I don’t think I could resist you.”

Seungcheol removed the mask, holding it in one hand and tightening his grip on you with the other. “You’re a weird little thing, are you,” he asked, narrowing his eyes, voice rich and dark.

“I’ve always wanted deep throat the cock of someone wearing one,” you blatantly confessed, your bottom lip caught in your teeth. 

Seungcheol quirked a brow, interest piquing before tossing the mask in Wonwoo’s direction, who caught it flawlessly, looking back at it in concerned confusion. “Wear it,” said the fellow conspirer, “Make our little guest dreams come true while I enjoy the show.”

Wonwoo didn’t argue, and against his better judgment followed his leader’s orders, securing the mask on his face as he bared his nether region, regrettably taut and aroused. As soon as Seungcheol released you, you fell to your knees, gazing up at the Ghostface mask before drawing your gaze down to Wonwoo’s cock that stood on its own, full of life.

Beneath that mask, Wonwoo held on to his uncertainty, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t look forward to the image of your lips wrapped around him. It was about all he could think about since being aware of you, other than killing you that is. Even as you beckoned him closer, with your knees on the ground of where the blood he’s shed–the bodies he’s slaughtered–he couldn’t help but think about how to dispose of you. How to get rid of your stain next. But the moment your lips reach the tip of his cock, his worries and schemes seemed to fade away, vanishing even faster as your pace quickened so eagerly.

Your hands palmed over his waist, and the lust in your eyes was insatiable, making a man—even Wonwoo—wonder how that pretty little mouth could take so much cock. He groaned, grabbing you by the crown of your head, and pushing you closer as he started to thrust, gradually adjusting to the tight, warm press of your mouth. “Oh fuck,” his voice gave out, muffled by the mask. 

He winced as he felt himself hit your throat, swallowing as he heard you gag on his cock—trying to fit all of him and he broke out in a hidden smile, and if he was being honest, he hasn't held a smile like it in a long time.

Why, Wonwoo hadn’t realized how long he’s had a good fucking like this. Ever since he took on as captain, sex was a thing of the past, something not even in the back of his mind, but you. Oh, you. You awoke something that should’ve stayed dormant. Years of training and discipline are suddenly out the window. And now he’s had a taste, he was going to ruin you until you didn’t even have the energy to breathe.

His hand locked between your tendrils, shoving your head impatiently. “Little toy that knows how to play. That’s rare.”

One hand found the underside of your chin, bringing your face up to gaze upon his, and watched as the mask on his face tilted in curiosity. Vice gripping that head of yours, he used your throat, letting his length slide down inside you. “Aren’t you a little slut? Just fucking wet having my cock down your throat, are you? Don’t try to deny it. I don't have to see or feel it. I can smell it.”

You confirmed with a strugged nod, salvia dribbling down your chin as tears began to burn your eyes.

Wonwoo let out a staggered breath, hitching another in his throat with a groan as felt your face touch the base of his cock, holding you in place and hearing you breathe with immense difficulty l. He pulled himself out of you, dragging you by your head, watching you cough on the ground, strings of your salvia ruining the floor and stretching from your cheeks. “You’re such a try-hard, taking my cock when I hear you practically gasping for air.” 

He bent down to level with you, the mask staring back at you menacingly, so realistically. “What? You’re not gonna beg for more?”

“I will, I will,” you assured, a blubbering mess, gasping while the tightness in your throat failed to bother you like it should’ve.

“Is that right?” Wonwoo chuckled, squeezing your cheeks in a rough grip. “You gonna beg for me to fuck your face? Huh?” He inhaled your gasps, body convulsing. His voice was gravelly and stinging with repulsion. “Cockbreath.”

You whined, pleading: “Please, I want to feel it deep, deep inside me, Mr. Ghostface. Give me your cock.”

“Then let me hear how much you want it.”

Your mouth parted, fumbling for the right words, struggling to release them from your strained throat, the sound coming out rough and raspy. “I want your cock shoved in my throat. I want to feel it from one end and out the other. I live for you cock. I’d die on your cock. Please just stick in my throat and don’t stop please.” 

Wonwoo looked down at you, surprised with the spew coming out of your mouth but went with it, shoving himself swiftly back in you, the sensation of your throat welcoming him like it never left. “I better see you swallow every inch,” he warned, his voice thick with malice. “If you so much as breathe, I’ll give you more than enough reason not to,” a smile laced with dark amusement edging his tone.

Meanwhile, Seungcheol watched as he promised, laying aloof back on the sofa with cock in hand and reveling in the sheer desperation from your voice as he stroked his cock to the pace of Wonwoo’s thrusts. 

As the reigning leader of the Spirituals, he was accustomed to having others do his bidding, just as his father had planned. But through his experience in leadership, he discovered he preferred being directly involved. Very involved. And it was moments like this that confirmed it.

“Good little cocksleeve, ain’t they?” Seungcheol commented, licking his lips.

“They certainly know how to make use of themselves,” Wonwoo drawled, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he observed your efforts, taking him with as much excitement as you initially came with.

Seungcheol started getting up, standing beside his partner in crime with a growing cock firmly in his grasp. He cast his gaze down at you, his presence domineering and intimidating, yet all the more mesmerizing. Seungcheol scoffed as soon as your eyes flickered in his direction, and his hands found themself in your hair. “I wonder how they’d take two cocks. How does that sound?”

Seungcheol helped release you from Wonwoo’s clutches and invited you into his as he met your eye level. “Can two cocks,” He produced another Ghostface mask, lifting it to his face, “fuck that pretty mouth full? There’s only one right answer.”

“Yes,” you managed to answer, your voice trembling, tears streaking down your face as you exhale, your flushed cheeks betraying the weight of your words. “Always.”

“Exactly what I was looking for.”

Kneeling between them, you held them both in either hand and traveled down both their lengths. Each Ghostface was more wicked than the other as you shoved a cock down your throat, Seungcheol’s groan following in response. Your tongue dragged along its underside, mouth stretching to adjust its size and familiarizing with your throat just as Wonwoo’s had, and the familiar sting of your tears had caused another stream of heat down your cheeks.

“You dirty little slut, so this is the kind of treatment my partner here has been getting,” Seungcheol took you by the hair, and slammed you against the base before pulling you back to only reach the head, another fit of coughing to ensue. “You better work five times as hard if you want to please me too.”

You nodded, each stroke to either of their cocks deliberate and purposeful, the masked individuals looming in front of you anticipating your next move. Taking Seungcheol back in your mouth, you sucked all around his circumstances, memorizing the veins of his shaft to then do the same with Wonwoo, batting your eyes back at him, your mouth parted wide letting both exit and enter on your own accord.

It was then either tip breached one another, both of your hands rubbing against each other at once that you heard something so delicious in their voices, so real and so pure. And before you could truly savor it, both of them pried your mouth part, either cock rubbing against either inside of your mouth, stretching your cheeks, as they unevenly thrust into your mouth.

It looked like it hurt, and either man was glad for it because, in its own sick way, it was another form of punishment, catering to them would only guarantee your ultimate demise and proving to them once and for all how necessary their roles really were.

Still, they enjoyed it—hell, they were euphoric seeing you put so much effort into such an ordeal, but not more impressed than about how it felt. Each twist of your wrist aimed to pump ego in their lengths, the dampness of your slobber stretching from your chin to their shafts creating a path of viscous filth, and the tension building in their manhoods that never seemed to fade as they attempted to bury themselves inside of your face.

It was momentous, and Wonwoo, who was initially concerned, was elated to reap more of the benefits just as much as his leader.

They shoved you off as soon as one of them was close, landing you on the sofa, flushed with a thin layer of sweat. Wonwoo, lifting the mask slightly above his face, let his lips run down your body, the hard, cold of plastic the mask chill on your body, while his teeth were nipping your torso and soft growls hummed against your skin. Startled, you yelped as he tugged your legs toward him, his cock position almost perfect at your warm entrance before he inserted himself, not wasting time by giving you a warning.

You mewled at the sensation, his rock-hard length plunging against your moist, plush walls. You instinctively gripped his arms for support, his ruts definable sharp, guttural, and primal. He loomed over you, mask still in place, but the shadow cast over his face in combination with just the barest hint of his mouth exposed showed a twisted smile of lunacy, dangerous beyond recognition.

Wonwoo was rough, hurting you in a way you’ve never been fucked before, but it made it all the more pleasure and Wonwoo knew it more than you thought. Seungcheol joined your side, squeezing himself between you and the couch as he propped his cock towards your mouth, slapping it against your cheek. “Open the fuck wide,” he said in a gnarly rasp through his mask.

As you opened, he seized you by your chin, slapping the cushion of your cheek where it already stung, before slapping the shaft of his cock on your tongue. You looked up at him, panting in excited gasps before he filled your mouth, then emptied it, and then filled your mouth again. His free hand claimed your breasts, ruthlessly squeezing them, pinching at your peaks, before ultimately slapping them, every action you could only swallow at. At almost every end, you were filled to the brim, hung in the balance of their mercy, and not once could you open your eyes without seeing stars.

“Can’t fucking stand it, what’s a fucking slut like you think you deserves our cocks for,” Wonwoo slapped the underside of your thigh, the sting of it ringing in your ears.

Seungcheol chuckled, fingers threading through your hair, pulling your head back to see the glisten in your eyes, how they beg without saying so, or how they water in delight. “One would be lucky to be so fortunate. You’ll thank us later and it won’t just be with gratitude, it’ll be a plea for more.”

Wonwoo, almost as blinded with lust as either you or Seungcheol, gave a deep heart laugh as he folded your legs back towards you, feeling him bottoming inside you and hitting a spot that shot you up in space. At this point you were immobile of making conscious decisions that didn’t have to do with sex, deducing you to only something they could use—something they could fuck until they were sick of you. 

You’d muffle something around Seungcheol’s cock, whether it be their names, or calling them Ghostface, it didn’t matter. It was as if the world outside this room didn’t exist and none of them cared for it to exist. Just them and you, and the sound of raw, unbridled sex. Succumbing to their primal urge to unleash pent-up tension and energy—and how effortlessly they did so.

Wonwoo felt his stomach seize, his abdomen tightening as the involuntary contractions slowed his pace, the warmth starting to overcome him, and his low groans took power over his voice as he doubled over. His cum up and out of him in thick ribbons up your path, the twitching of your orgasm quickening in response to his warmth. Simultaneously, Seungcheol filled your mouth, expanding your cheeks, and he gently stroked your throat, “Swallow every fucking bit of it, you fucking cumbottle.”

Your eyes fluttered, pushing the cum down your pipes as he still stood in your mouth, feeling it slide down with a heavy swallow, and you opened your mouth wide to show just how thorough you are.

Seungcheol finally peeled the mask from his face, revealing flushed pink on his cheeks and damp strands of hair clinging to his forehead, making him an undeniably captivating sight—nothing short of a perfect reward. 

Wonwoo followed, his presence marked by a familiar mirage, his smile shifting into a Duchenne grin—a smile that sparkled in a way most didn’t, reaching his eyes and revealing just how genuine it truly was. Underestimating the relief that consumed him. “Finally,” he gasped out.

He stood up, towering over your frame, his shadow falling over you. “Nothing short of our expectations,” he complimented before pressing a kiss to your lips, explosive and electric, foreshadowing how it’d be the last.

He started to retrieve the additional knife from under the couch, its steely presence finally making a comeback, and you managed to catch the glint of it peering at you at a lower glance. Jumping into action, your feet aimed for his gut, throwing Wonwoo off base as the knife scattered on the ground and crashing him hard into the glass coffee table behind him. 

“Fuck!” Wonwoo shouted, pain pricking him at all sides of his body, blood gushing from the holes from which the glass had penetrated. “You bitch!”

“Like I was going to let that happen,” you spat, recovering from your fatigue. 

Seungcheol pinned his arms behind you, an evil smile visible in your peripheral. “And you think I’d let you damage my property like that?” He hissed.

Before Seungcheol could avenge his comrade, you head-butted him from the back of your skull, momentarily blinding him as he clutched his face in agony. “Fuck! Holy fuck! My fucking face! You broke my fucking face!” He growled from the depths of his gut as you backed off of him. “I’m gonna enjoy fucking killing you.”

“God fuck, you knew! Didn’t you, you stupid bitch?” Wonwoo started inching closer to you, the knife a good distance away from him. “You knew who we were and came up here anyway. To what? Get one good fuck? Are you that stupid?”

“Of course, I didn’t fucking know! But I had a gut feeling,” you panted.

“Yeah?” Seungcheol taunted, eye swollen, cheeks and forehead red as he procured a knife from between the couch cushions. “Where that gut feeling take you? Besides getting them rearranged, that is?”

Wonwoo scoffed, finally finding the strength to get up. “Dumb slut like them didn’t get that far. Just good for a fuck.” He spat on the ground blood, gritting his teeth.

Your gaze flickered from one to the other, bare fisted, preparing for the worst. “Why don’t you test that theory then, boys?”

“Fucking gladly,” Seungcheol agreed, voice falling several octaves.

They bolted towards you in blind fury, grasping at you like straw and swinging a knife in your direction, barely nicking you. When Wonwoo ran at you from one end, Seungcheol came at you from the other, attempting to corner you. Determination oozing in their gazes, piercing through your very being, the mirage of the devil’s on both of their unsettlingly handsome faces. 

“Nowhere to run now, you little bitch.” Wonwoo screeched venomously.

Seungcheol twirled the knife between his fingers, a grin stretching from ear to ear. “This is where you start crying. Or begging for mercy? It doesn’t matter like it won’t matter where or what we stab you with next.”

You slid underneath their swinging arms, the knife briefly slicing, forearm and you gasped in response, stumbling backward. Feeling cornered. You slowly backed away, searching for an escape, but by luck, you find something in your purse instead, abandoned on the ground just out of your assailants’ sight. “You fuckers aren’t gonna get away with shit by the way. You should be careful where you leave your things around here.”

They both laugh at you condescendingly, not an ounce of doubt in their eyes. “No one is believing your bluffs, darling. Just come over nice and slowly. We’ll only stab you 20 times each,” Seungcheol feignedly reassured.

Thinking you were defenseless, they charged at you at full speed—until you lifted what you’d hidden behind your cowering figure. A burst of pepper spray erupted from the canister into their eyes, and the sound of grown men screaming from the tops of their lungs, like terrified final girls, seared itself into every wrinkle of your brain.

”You stupid slut! Pepper spray? Seriously?”

”First you swell up my face, then fucking blind me? You’re in for a real one, cum guzzling little shit.”

Seizing your chance, you delivered a final kick, shoving Wonwoo in Seungcheol’s direction, sending them into an unexpected embrace. In the haze of pain, Wonwoo's eyes shot open, the piercing ache in his chest telling him everything he needed to know about what had just happened. “S-Seungcheol…what the fuck…”

As he stared into his comrade's eyes, Seungcheol’s eyes grew wide in realization, and looked down at the knife he held in his hand, now plunged into their chest. The leader followed him as he collapsed, taking the longest moment to register the events leading up to this as Wonwoo’s eyes began to drift close. Gripping his brethren’s shoulders with the anger of a million suns, Seungcheol bared his teeth, voice singing in regret. “You…I’M GOING TO CHOP AND FEED THEM TO MY PET SHARKS, YOU TRAMP.”

He turned to face you swiftly—too swiftly—because as soon as he did, his neck met the blade, slicing from one side to the other until you plunged it deeper, twisting it down his throat before pulling it out. Fury lingered in his eyes, barely alive, as he began to spit up blood, several drops landing on your face and body. Moments later, he collapsed beside his partner, his eyes dulling as the life slowly drained from his face and body.

You collapsed to your side, shakily reaching for the phone in your bag and dialing the authorities. “H-hello…I just killed two men that attempted to kill me…I think I know the address.”

Once you hung up, you summoned the courage to flip your phone to camera mode to capture the evidence, gasping for breath, ensuring yourself of the life left in you. As soon as you did, a gravelly voice cut through the silence. Its owner raised the knife that had once been lodged in his chest, charging at you with bloodshot, deranged eyes. “DIE, FREAK, DIE!”

You managed a quick, well-aimed strike where the sun doesn’t shine, slowing him down just enough. As he stumbled, you seized the knife you’d stolen from Seungcheol’s throat and plunged it into his head, again, and again, and again, screaming at the top of your lungs until he finally collapsed to the floor.

With trembling hands, you struggled to hold the phone steady to capture the scene. Blood streaked down your forearms, and your sniffles provided the only soundtrack to the aftermath.

You’d done it—you’d finally done it. It only took a hundred tries and countless hours of risk, but it happened. You had become the one–if not the only–true survivor of the town’s Ghostface murders. If this didn’t launch your career, you weren’t sure what would.

You just had hoped they wouldn’t come with backup.

[jjunieworld]

THE PLAYER’S GAME ˒˒ 엔하이픈 ❨ 𝓈𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝓂𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 ❩

─── “there’s no winner in the player’s game. it’s best to know that before it’s too late.”

they say that all is fair in love and war, but how much more can you take? how much more are you willing to take? limits will be tested and they know just what buttons to push until you find out. do be careful of ending up with a broken heart… it’s highly unlikely that they will be there to pick up the pieces. must be read in order for each story to make sense .ᐟ

genre﹙📖﹚⸝⸝⸝ written series, ??? to lovers, smut, a lot of angst, fluff, beach au, summer fling/summer romance, lifeguard!jake and lifeguard!jay, surfer and stoner!heeseung, love triangle, please refer to full genres in each part…

warnings ‎⸝⸝⸝ the boys are very toxic, player!jake and player!sunghoon, fwb!heeseung, jealousy, manipulation and gaslighting, possessiveness, corruption kink, alcohol and drugs (weed), a lot of unprotected sex (don’t do this!), soft dom!jake, mean dom!jay, hard dom!heehoon, please refer to full warnings in each part…

kipo’s note ‎⸝⸝⸝ so surprise!!! a lot of people were asking for part two of meet me at our spot and i’ve granted you a whole written series in return! the updates for these will be slow as i am a slow writer. each part will be long and that will take some time to write, so please don’t rush me. things on this mlist are subject to change as i get more things planned and outlined! i hope you enjoy and remember, do be careful of ending up with a broken heart. all feedback and reblogs are welcome! ♡

∿ [ total wc: 49.5k so far ] ⋆ [ status: ongoing ] ∿ [ continue on to . . . series tag , playlist , masterlist ]

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏YOU HAVE NOW RECEIVED A MESSAGE FROM . . . ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏answer now or ignore it?

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏

▸ THE TOWN’S RENOWN PLAYER, JAKE SIM.

[ PART ONE: ] MEET ME AT OUR SPOT

with the news of your grandma’s depleting health, life has you moving to your mother’s seaside hometown for the summer to your aunt’s. while there, you meet the illustrious player—jake sim—that everyone can’t seem to stop talking about. what you never expected was to gain his attention and spend the three months you’re there falling for him.

pairing ‎⸝⸝⸝ sim jaeyun x fem!reader 𓄵 iηcℓudᥱs 𓈓 jungwon, lifeguard!jay, player!sunghoon, and oc hana (jake’s ex)

genre﹙📓﹚⸝⸝⸝ angst, smut, fluff, strangers to temporary lovers, beach au, summer fling/summer love, lifeguard!jake, blonde!jake, kindaaa slow burn, h2o jokes references (i had to), slice of life, lifeguarding & surfing inaccuracies, reader is jungwon’s cousin please check actual post for full warnings!

∿ [ 22k ] ⋆ [ click here to be added to series taglist! ] my permanent taglist will already be added! minors, ageless, and blank blogs will not be added.

[ PART TWO: ] THE SALT UNDER THE SEA

the death of your grandma has you returning back to your mother’s seaside hometown—the same town you left jake in a year ago—for good. now that you’re back, so are the feelings you really desperately wished to leave behind. it doesn’t help that now you’re caught in the crossfire of two guys with a rough past who want to be with you.

pairing ‎⸝⸝⸝ sim jaeyun x reader, park jongseong x reader 𓄵 iηcℓudᥱs 𓈓 cousin jungwon, bestfriend!jay, player!sunghoon, and oc hana (jake’s ex)

genre﹙📓﹚⸝⸝⸝ exes to lovers, bestfriends to ???, angst, smut, fluff, lifeguard!jake, ex player!jake, bestfriend!jay, lifeguard!jay, lifeguarding inaccuracies, love triangle, slice of life, some h2o references, beach au, summer romance please check actual post for full warnings!

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▸ THE ONE WHO GOT PLAYED, JAY PARK.

[ PART THREE: ] JADED DAYLIGHT

after recent events, jay decided that the whole dating scene isn’t for him. that is, until you break down all of his walls and change his whole perspective.

pairing ‎⸝⸝⸝ park jongseong x fem!reader 𓄵 iηcℓudᥱs 𓈓 surfer and stoner!heeseung, mentions of jake’s y/n, lifeguard!jake, mentions of oc hana

genre﹙📓﹚⸝⸝⸝ strangers to lovers, grumpy x sunshine trope, jay is kinda mean lmao, angst, smut, fluff, lifeguard!jay, lifeguarding & surfing inaccuracies please check actual post for full warnings!

status ‎⸝⸝⸝ in progress . . . ⋆ wip post

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▸ THE HEAD GAMEMAKER, PARK SUNGHOON.

[ PART FOUR: ] THE ONLY HEARTBREAKER

you knew you should’ve stayed far, far away from him, but you had fallen on hard times and were desperate. after a particularly bad breakup, your road led you right into sunghoon’s bed—and he didn’t seem to mind that you were using him as a sort-of rebound.

pairing ‎⸝⸝⸝ park sunghoon x fem!reader 𓄵 iηcℓudᥱs 𓈓 lifeguard!jake

genre﹙📓﹚⸝⸝⸝ friends with benefits to lovers, angst, smut, fluff, player!sunghoon, reader treats him as a rebound and he’s -sort of- okay with it, hoon is a real asshole, he fell first and he fell harder please check actual post for full warnings!

status ‎⸝⸝⸝ in progress . . . ⋆ wip post

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͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏

▸ THE UNDERCOVER PLAYER, LEE HEESEUNG.

[ PART FIVE: ] NO STRINGS ATTACHED

there’s only one thing that is worse than getting hurt by somebody—getting played. worse? getting played by someone when you’re the player. especially by someone with an ego bigger than the sun.

pairing ‎⸝⸝⸝ lee heeseung x fem!reader 𓄵 iηcℓudᥱs 𓈓 lifeguard!jay

genre﹙📓﹚⸝⸝⸝ strangers to friends with benefits to lovers, angst, smut, fluff, surfer and stoner!heeseung, lifeguarding & surfing inaccuracies please check actual post for full warnings!

status ‎⸝⸝⸝ in progress . . . ⋆ wip post

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∿ [ continue on to . . . series tag , playlist , masterlist ] all feedback and reblogs are welcome! ♡

🏷️ 1﹙ want to be added to my permanent taglist? click here ﹚ @jjunberry @gothgyuu @gyuuberries @beargyuuzz @kittyhyuka @dani-is-tired @riaawr @yeonjunsfox @nxzz-skz @chaconadine @rapmonie2047 @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @aaa-sia @jeonghaniehaee @todorokiskitten @onlyhyunjin @un06 @nenesz @branchrkive @dreamiestay @lilyuwon @lilactangerine @kaykay11sworld @kirinaa08 @cherlv @zl-world @cloud-lyy @sunpov @samouryed @immelissaaa @y4wnjunz @who-tf-soddhi @minaateez @jajenoric @americanojake @in-somnias-world @ghstzzn @bobaikeu @cupidscourt @nctsshoes2 @helenngxz @jakeswifez @usnve @won4me @sakanelli-afc

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[leejenowrld]

my first and last (m)

pairing lee jeno x reader

word count 37k

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

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

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

please leave asks !!

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

✧ ✧ ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧ ✧ ✧

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

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

"How did you find me?"

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

You nod. “Of course.”

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

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

Jeno laughs, "Can we talk there?"

You agree, "Okay, then my house."

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

✧ ✧ ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lee Jeno

*Image Attached*

Me and Theo :)

✧ ✧ ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧ ✧ ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” You whisper in a faint voice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧ ✧ ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧ ✧ ✧

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

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

He chuckles, “You?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You deserve better than that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hums, looking at you and raising an eyebrow.

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

“What do you think?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧ ✧ ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And I don’t?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You shouldn’t have!”

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

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

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

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

“Well I’m here now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s your favourite colour?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I –“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just turn around.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hums when you haven’t answered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You look hot.”

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

He nods. “Yeah I left my wallet.”

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

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

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

“What day is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What could go wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll be with you the whole night.”

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

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

“I do.”

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

“Why?”

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

“You look so fucking good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He raises an eyebrow. “You drink?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do we have anything in common?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s dance, baby.”

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

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

“Just let loose, baby.”

You do just that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧ ✧ ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you my boyfriend?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧ ✧ ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧ ✧ ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not gonna let you cum yet.”

You cry out. “Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You pout. “It’s your birthday.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re taking me so fucking well.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧ ✧ ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He can be soft too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧ ✧ ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧ ✧ ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I got you, Y/N."

✧ ✧ ✧

You don’t keep your end of the promise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧ ✧ ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧ ✧ ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧ ✧ ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧ ✧ ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧ ✧ ✧

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

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

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

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

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

"JENO!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a silence, Donghyuck just laughs

“I don’t want to do either.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then ruin me.”

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

You manage to lock the door behind you, filled

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

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

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

“How badly do you need my cock?”

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

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

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

“There’s my good girl.”

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

He shakes his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✧ ✧ ✧

✧ ✧ ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Amid the fervor, your arm circles around his neck, drawing him closer. A smile that plays on your lips before you break away to catch your breath. “I’m not embarrassed. Why would I be? I love you, and I don't care who sees and knows."

His grin widens as he witnesses your transformation—a bolder, more unapologetic version of yourself. In this moment, you radiate confidence, embracing the essence of who you are without concern for others' opinions. His love for you deepens as he watches you stand tall, proud of the person you've become. In his eyes, your authenticity and resilience are truly something to be cherished.

The audience, initially cheering for your performance, now witnesses a different kind of spectacle—one fueled by love, playfulness, and an unapologetic embrace of affection. It's a scene etched in the memories of those present, a testament to the unabashed love between you and your boyfriend.

As you both watch each other with affectionate smiles, Jeno can't help but speak up, his tone filled with playful disbelief. "Really? You're not embarrassed? What happened to that line you were gonna—" He pauses, groaning and widening his eyes as you tap on the microphone, shamelessly grabbing the audience's attention once again.

“Y/N. No. I was just joking. Oh God.”

A moment of silence descends like a dropped pin could be heard. "I have something to add," you say, holding Jeno's hand and locking eyes with him. "I don't believe in God, but God made you for me. I love you, Lee Jeno."

Jeno groans as people whistle but as he looks in your eyes, he has to admit that he’s quite fond of this moment. He shakes his head, coming up behind you once more. "I love you more," he counters with a teasing smile.

"Really, God made me for you? That's a good one," he remarks, his tone light but with a subtle darkness in his eyes.

You respond with a sweet smile, "Never in my life did I think I'd experience a love story like this."

Your gaze is light and affectionate, but Jeno's eyes darken as he playfully accuses, "My blasphemous girl."

The atmosphere is meant to be romantic, he’s kissing you so softly and cooing into your ear as you melt into his back, his strong arms caging you in. The crowd erupts in cheers, and you force a smile, concealing the internal struggle between desire and the need to maintain composure.

Your sharp warning cuts through the air, adding a tense edge. "It's supposed to be a romantic moment; I will cut your fucking dick off," you declare, your tone carrying a mix of threat and irritation.

"Don't talk to me like that when you're the one rubbing against me like a bitch in heat." He grits through his teeth, somehow managing to conceal himself when he lands a slap on your ass, warning you to behave.

"This is a cute moment. My parents are here, and so are yours. Your mom is crying," he whispers in your ear, prompting a wave and a few tears as you look her way but she’s not even paying attention to you, you roll your eyes as Jeno blows her a kiss.

However, he quickly shifts the tone, calling out your arousal. "And you're horny?" he remarks, a mix of amusement and admonishment. "You better stop, or the entire audience will hear you scream my name," he warns, heightening the suspense.

"And you're not wearing underwear? You needy slut.” Jeno teases with a playful smirk evident in his voice.

Your response, delivered with a pout, adds a touch of endearing innocence to the playful exchange. “You literally took it off in the car.” You protest, the pout reflecting a mix of innocence and mild reproach.

Jeno's counter, delivered with a chuckle. "Yeah, because you made me park halfway here because you wanted to ride my cock.”

“What was I supposed to do? You was so cute in the car, telling me that I’m your other half, that you see yourself marrying me and growing old with me, did you or did you not deserve to get your cock sucked in that moment?”

He gives you a knowing smirk. “I did.”

- -

if you enjoy please leave an ask <3 talk to me. i've uploaded this 3 times cus ive been shadowbanned

comment to be added to the tag list for the sequel

wanna check out more mfal content? check out the mfal ml here includes text posts, never seen before scenes, smut scenes, facts and behind the scenes content <3

[maidragoste]

The Decision

Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader, minor Harwin Strong x Velaryon!Reader, Rhaenyra Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader

Again another AU with the reader of The Sea Dragon, The Clubfoot and The Green Queen (you don't need to read it to understand this one shot because this story starts LONG BEFORE the canon of that universe).

Summary: When King Viserys announces that he plans to marry you, you make a decision to avoid becoming the king's wife.

Now you can read this bonus!

TW: This is NSFW (if you don't like it you can read only the Rhaenyra and Harwin parts)

I was dying to share this with all of you so I hope you like it!

If you want to read more of this Reader and Daemon, don't hesitate to let me know in the comments or in my inbox 🤭

REBLOGS, comments and likes are always greatly appreciated 🥰🥰💖💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes. Also this is my first smut so sorry if it's weird to read.

You felt your heart hammering as you waited for the king to make his announcement. Your stomach wouldn't stop spinning and you have no idea how you still hadn't vomited up what you had for breakfast.

With every passing second you have to keep yourself from running out of the council chambers. You couldn't stop looking at your father, a part of you wanted to take his hand and ask him to get you out of here but you didn't trust him anymore. You were in this situation because of him. You always knew that your father is a proud and ambitious man but you never thought that his ambition would be greater than his love for you. If your father really loved you he wouldn't have sent you to the king's chambers. He wouldn't have made you start wearing dresses that showed more skin for your visits with him. Gods, you wanted to hit your father so badly, you wanted to wipe the smile off his face because both he and you knew what Viserys was going to announce. Everyone knew it, you noticed that Otto Hightower was trying to hide his annoyance from everyone, the only one who seemed unaware of the tension in the room was Rhaenyra.

“I have decided to take a new wife,” the king began and you noticed how he and Rhaenyra exchanged a look. You were surprised to see your cousin nod as if she was permitting him to move on. Did Rhaenyra know? Did she approve of this? “I intend to get married,” he continued, this time looking at you and your father. You forced a smile as you dug your nails into your palms, feeling helpless for being in this situation “with Lady Y/N Velaryon before spring.”

Your eyes met Rhaenyra's purple ones. There was none of the love or fun you usually saw. Now she was looking at you with a mixture of pain and fury. The pain in your stomach got worse. Nyra had never looked at you like that. This shouldn't be happening.

It was obvious that she didn't know that her father was planning to marry you. You wanted to scream, you wanted to hug her and tell her that this wasn't what you wanted, that you weren't trying to steal her mother's place, that you would never do anything to hurt her.

"Rhaenyra" the king called her but the princess left the chambers anyway. You couldn't take this anymore so you went after her, ignoring your father's calls.

You followed the princess. You could feel the fabric of your dress sticking together due to perspiration, you didn't know if it was because of your nerves or because you were practically almost running after Rhaenyra. It was uncomfortable but right now you didn't care. You needed to clear things up with her. You couldn't stand that she hated you.

"Nyra" you called when she finally stopped. You two were in the gardens, in front of the heart tree. Where more than once you had Rhaenyra lay with her head in your lap while you sang her any song she wanted. Where you two used to stay out in the sun complaining about the septa's lessons while you combed her hair. This tree has so many good memories and now you fear there will be no more.

"How could you?!" she yelled at you furiously. She couldn't believe how you had been by her side, comforting her, accompanying her in her grief, remembering the stories the both shared with her mother so that later you went behind her back to conquer her father. When her father told her that he needed to take another wife she thought it would be Laena Velaryon. Not from you. Never from you. You were supposed to be hers.

"Please, Nyra, don't hate me" you begged and grabbed her hands desperately, pulling her closer to you "I swear I didn't want this but my father" you shook your head and forced yourself to continue talking trying to ignore the knot in your throat "I'll find a way to fix this, I promise" you kissed her hands.

The princess studied you for a few minutes. She needed to check that you weren't faking this just to avoid her anger. Your eyes seemed to be glazed over from the tears you were holding back and your hands clung to her desperately.

“I believe you,” she finally said and you sighed in relief.

"Thank you", you said with a shaking voice

This time it was Rhaenyra who kissed your hands and rested her forehead against yours. You closed your eyes feeling at peace for a moment knowing that she didn't hate you.

"I won't marry your father, Nyra. I promise."

If it weren't for the fact that she was now the heir to the throne, Rhaenyra would have told you that you would run away with her, that the two of you would go together on your dragons and travel the world together, and that you didn't need a husband, that if you wanted her, she would take you as a wife. But now she had obligations, she couldn't abandon everything for you even if her heart screamed for her to do so.

After clearing things up with Rhaenyra you went to your chambers. Of course, your father was waiting for you, he scolded you for your abrupt departure but he left you alone once you told him that you had managed to calm the princess's annoyance. Being alone you decided to put your plan into action, first you took a bath with the purpose of relaxing and getting rid of any trace of nerves you had before, then you put on one of your simplest dresses and placed a hooded cape on top to hide your hair. You were leaving the castle and you didn't need anyone to follow you.

You successfully slipped away and headed out into the streets in search of Harwin. You knew that today he had to stand guard on the streets of Flea Bottom. A girl in your position shouldn't be here but you didn't care. You needed to talk to him as soon as possible.

“Harwin” you called him when you finally found him.

“Lady Velaryon, you should not be here,” said the guard, gently hugging you by the shoulders and taking you to a corner further away from the people.

It felt bad to hear him call you in such a formal way when for weeks he had been calling you by your name or “sunshine”, the nickname he had given you. You remember like it was yesterday when you kissed him for the first time after he explained to you that the reason he called you that was because you brightened his days every time he saw you.

This sudden formality was like a slap in the face and he confirmed what you already feared.

“You know,” you declared sadly.

“My father told me,” he admitted, releasing you. You weren't surprised since Lyonel is on the council and had been present at this morning's meeting. You suspected that Harwin's father thought it would be best for him to find out from him rather than from someone else since you were sure that Lord Strong and your parents knew about the meetings between you and Harwin. You thought it was no secret that he was courting you, but apparently, not everyone knew because otherwise, Viserys would not have chosen you as his wife. Or maybe he knew but didn't care.

“This doesn't have to change what's between us,” you said as you stood on tiptoe to have his face closer to yours. “I don't want to marry the king. I want you” you whispered against his lips but without touching them. Harwin had to control himself from closing the small distance between you and kissing you. “Make me your wife,” you asked before capturing his lips with yours.

You froze when Harwin walked away from you.

“I can't,” he whispered and closed his eyes to avoid seeing the disappointment on your face.

“I thought you loved me” In your voice there was more anger than sadness but your body language was different, you found yourself hugging yourself trying to comfort yourself. You were disappointed.

“I do,” he stated firmly, opening his eyes so you could see that he spoke sincerely. “I love you. If it were any other man he would fight for you but…”

His silence told you everything. He loved you but it's not enough to face the king.

“You're a coward,” you spat and left the way you came.

You didn't really think Harwin was a coward but you were hurt by his rejection. You felt stupid to believe that whatever Harwin felt for you would be bigger than any coherent thought but you can't blame him after all any intelligent person would be afraid to go against the king's wishes and steal his fiancée…

But all was not lost, you knew someone well who was not afraid of Viserys and could help you. It was a desperate move and your parents would think you were an idiot for this but you refuse to be the king's wife. You had seen how as the years went by and with each pregnancy, Queen Aemma deteriorated. You didn't want the same thing.

You wrote to Daemon. You told him that the king wanted to marry you but that you were seeking to avoid this marriage and that you needed his help. You waited anxiously for his response while you had to feign excitement every time someone talked about your wedding preparations. Luckily it didn't take that long for a crow to arrive with the rogue prince's answer. There were no reassuring words in his letter, the only thing the scroll said was "Come to Dragonstone."

And that's what you did. Nobody suspected when the next day you went on the back of your dragon since everyone knew that there was not a day in which you did not disappear for a couple of hours to go flying with Nightwing.

"My prince, Lady Y/N Velaryon!" The guard announced your arrival before letting you enter the chambers where the prince was staying.

Daemon, who had seen you approach with Nightwing from the window, had his back turned but turned to look at you. He hasn't seen you in months. Your hair was longer and you seemed to have changed the way you dressed. The blue dress you were wearing seemed to have more cleavage, it wasn't anything scandalous enough for the court to talk about but it did draw attention.

"It's good to see you, Y/n" Daemon stated making you smile. You were sure that this was the first sincere smile you had given in days.

You waited for the guard to leave. Once you heard the sound of the door closing, you began to walk towards the prince without haste, trying to show as much confidence as possible. Normally you wouldn't be nervous around Daemon but you hadn't seen him in months and he was the only person who could help you. You didn't want to ruin this.

*I'm wondering the same. These months without you were boring "You weren't lying or trying to sugarcoat it to achieve your goal, it was simply the truth. Every time he leaves court you wish for his return.

"You still didn't come after me" Daemon held back his smile when he saw the surprise in your eyes.

He liked seeing that look in your eyes. Every time he brings you something new from his travels, every time he teaches you a new move in the training yard, every time he asks you for his favor in tournaments. How he had missed seeing you. He wouldn't tell you but he had missed you these past few months. So imagine his fury when after so long the first news he receives from you is that his brother plans to marry you. You are too much of a woman for Viserys. His brother wouldn't know what to do with you. You would spend the rest of your life bored. Daemon couldn't allow it.

"I didn't know you wanted that," you said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"I invited you to go with me on my next trip, didn't I?"

Before Queen Aemma's death, when you helped Daemon put on his armor for the tournament you complained about the lengthening of his travels. The prince's response was to invite you to go with him next time. You were so excited to accompany him on his trips that you didn't wait for the tournament to end to ask your parents for permission. But then Aemma died and you didn't dare leave Rhaenyra.

You laughed. “That wasn't a trip, Daemon. Viserys exiled you.”

"And now he will exile you" he mocked, making you irritated but you quickly forgot about your irritation when Daemon placed his hands on your waist and pulled you closer to him, leaving your bodies pressed together. You should be uncomfortable with this but you're not. "You understand? Right? You know what you were asking for when you asked me for help?" He asked, studying your reaction. He needed to see that you really understood what you were about to do. This was your time to repent. But he didn't find uncertainty in your eyes if not desire, you looked at him with pure desire.

"I know," you responded, trying to ignore the flutter of emotion you felt at the intensity of the prince's gaze. You should be against doing this after all your reputation would be ruined but deep down you always wanted to have even a little bit of Daemon.

In reality, there was always a tension between the two of you. More than once you two ended your fights in the yard more irritated than you were before you started because after so much friction, touching, and sweat you both wanted to do something else that you couldn't. You didn't want to be the other woman and Daemon for once wanted to make things right with you. He hoped that one day Viserys would annul his marriage to Rhea Royce to take you as his wife. That day never came but that didn't matter anymore.

"You will take me as your second wife" While you spoke your eyes couldn't help but stop a couple of times on his lips.

Daemon tilted his head a little and gently brushed aside a strand of hair to whisper in your ear "I'll do it. If you want that" you shivered as you suddenly felt his breath on your neck. It doesn't take long for you to feel his warm lips against your skin. You unconsciously stretched your neck, leaving him free to continue spreading more kisses. With each kiss, you felt your body warmer. You can't help but wonder how his lips will feel just as good on another part of your body. “People will talk about us,” he warned, snapping you out of your fantasy.

You knew what Daemon was referring to, not only would it be a scandal if the king's fiancée married another but also if that other is Daemon Targaryen, the king's brother, and an already married man. People who don't understand his family's customs won't think your marriage is legitimate, and if you were to have children with him people would probably think of them as bastards. Also, the court could compare your marriage to one of Maegor Targaryen's many marriages. The kingdom would talk a lot about you two, even your family's name and respect could be damaged by this. Your father might never want to speak to you again in your life and your mother would be disappointed in you. You had thought about all this at night before receiving the prince's response. And yet you were determined to go ahead with this.

“Are you worried that the court will call you Second Maegor? Because I'm sorry to inform you but they already call you that” you said, managing to make Daemon laugh a little. You smiled when you heard him but your smile was soon replaced by a gasp as you felt his teeth biting into your neck.

“A wife shouldn't make fun of her husband,” he said making you roll your eyes, knowing that he wasn't serious and just wanted to mess with you. “If you marry me, this will not be just a marriage in name.”

You weren't an idiot. It wasn't enough for you to just marry Daemon. Viserys might still want to annul the marriage if he saw that you were a virgin but if it was known that Daemon had already had you then the council would tell the king that he should take another wife.

You walked away from him. “Are you afraid of taking me as your wife? You keep walking around instead of ordering them to start preparing everything for the ceremony. “The prince could see the challenge in your eyes and he loved it.” I'm not a little girl, Daemon. I know what I'm getting into by marrying you."

And those words were enough for Daemon to finally join his lips with yours. There was nothing soft about his kiss, not like Harwin's. This kiss was hungry, you felt like he was devouring your mouth but you weren't far behind either, taking him by the neck, pulling him closer to you. It seemed as if neither of you two could get enough of the other. Finally giving free rein to the desire the both felt for a long time. You felt his hands trying to untie the back of your dress so you walked away from him with heavy breathing.

“Ah, ah, ah,” you hummed, now placing your hands on his chest, hoping to keep a little more distance. “You can't have me until we're married,” you declared, looking at him mischievously.

“You're so fucking annoying” Daemon complained and tried to kiss you again but you pulled your face away with a teasing smile. "Good. But then you won't leave the room until I'm done with you,” he warned you and he gave you a little squeeze on your waist before leaving, determined to prepare everything in the shortest possible time.

Daemon thinks he'll never get tired of this. See how you move on his cock, how focused you look with every jump you take in search of your pleasure, how you open your mouth and let those sinful sounds escape when you finally find your sweet spot, and above all the feeling of your cunt squeezing his cock.

Hearing Daemon's groan overwhelms you. It overwhelms you because, for the first time, you realize that you have power over him. It's too much to hear him say your name like you're a god while you're riding him. See how hungry he is for you, how he can't seem to get enough of you, how he can't go a minute without his mouth on you, without biting or sucking on your neck, without having his hands touching you. By now your body was covered in hickeys, marks, and bruises leaving the trace of your crime on display. You're sure that tomorrow when the maids came to help you dress they would be horrified to see the mark of Daemon's palms on your thighs after he held you for what seemed like hours while he devoured your cunt over and over again.

Your husband noticed that you were starting to get tired but you still didn't want to stop, not when you were already so close to cumming again but you were too proud to ask him for help.

“Let me take care of it,” he said, stopping to suck on one of your nipples.

He knows how stubborn you are so he didn't even give you a chance to refuse when he lifted you off his cock. You groan against his neck as he pushes you down onto his cock again. He begins to move you up and down as if you weighed nothing.

"Faster" you demanded with heavy breathing, feeling dissatisfied with the pace of his movements.

Daemon doesn't hesitate to follow your orders and makes you bounce faster. His grunts and moans do nothing but send heat to your core. You feel your legs tremble at the speed and depth of his thrusts. You want to have your share and leave your marks on your husband too but you can't focus as much time on biting or sucking on his neck when he's fucking you so good. You sob when you finally feel the knot in your stomach release and you cum on his cock.

Suddenly one of his hands leaves your waist and pulls your hair, stealing a gasp from you, making you stop hiding your face in his neck and thus trap your mouth again in a messy kiss.

"You take me so well," Daemon gasped against your lips, feeling your warm cunt not stop squeezing his cock.

The sound of skin slapping only increases the temperature of the room. Like the groans and gasps. Neither Daemon nor you were trying to be quiet, it was more like you were both competing to see who could make the other louder. You should be embarrassed and try to be quieter, that's what a good lady would do but you couldn't care less what people thought, not when you felt so good. And while you felt how Daemon filled your cunt with his seed a petty part of you couldn't help but think that you were hoping that this would reach Viserys' ears, that one of the servants would write to the king to inform him of the spectacle you and Daemon were putting on so that Viserys wouldn't want to have anything more to do with you.

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[nana-gumi]

devoted f.toji

pairings: fushiguro toji x fem! reader

cw: heavy angst, arranged marriage, illness, inaccurate descriptions of heart disease (just did some research lol), megumi is 5 years old, mentions of abuse, some kissing, mentions of pregnancy, drinking, toji is giving mixed signals, suggestive themes, lots of cursing, happy ending. wc: 18k

a/n: this was a filo au that i posted on tiktok, but due to problems posting on tiktok, the story wasn't finished and now here it is with an ending!! sorry for the long wait my tiktok readers 🥹 i'm sorry if the ending did not meet your expectations :') will post the angst ending soon

despite the years his past wife died, he still couldn't move on. it's up for the fate to decide if you could change him.

happy ending | alternate angst ending

being an outcast in your family is the worst. you were forced to marry someone who's like you.

toji fushiguro, an outcast in his family and both of you were forced to marry each other. you've heard rumors about him. mostly bad ones. his father's company is famous after all.

toji have a son from his deceased wife. the time you met his son, megumi, you thought the kid will hate you but it was the opposite. he welcomed you, even told you that he was happy he finally has a mother.

you and toji never really interacted with each other that much, only if needed, like family gatherings or when megumi is around. who would want to show a kid that you're not interested with each other, right? but when it's just the two of you, both were completely a stranger to each other. there were times were you wanted to start a conversation because sleeping in one bed was awkward especially when there's no conversation at all.

you did start a conversation at some point but toji's presence was intimidating enough to shut you up. as time passes by, you're getting used to his presence. he seemed to be scowling at all times but you noticed that, that's just how he is. you continued to interact with him until you and him finally got comfortable with each other, where good morning and good nights were exchanged. but then you've grown attached to the man, especially his son.

when you asked toji why his last name is fushiguro, he told you that it was his deceased wife's last name. toji still refused to bring back his last name which is supposed to be zenin. he told you that his family once forced him to use zenin again but toji simply ignored them. even though toji was an outcast, none of his family couldn't argue with him so he kept the last name fushiguro while you stick with your own last name.

being an outcast, you didn't feel any love from your family and the simple things toji showed you made you feel loved. that night he let you borrow his jacket when it started to snow unexpectedly, those times where he makes extra coffee for you, he would even let you hug him if you have nightmares and most of all, he defends you from your family.

that's what you loved, no– love about him. but you wonder, does toji feel the same? and the answer was already obvious. toji only accepted the marriage because he doesn't have a choice. they will remove him from the business his family owns and he doesn't want that because he needs money for his son, megumi. he promised his deceased wife that he'll take care of megumi after all.

and you adore toji for that. sometimes you think, will toji cherish you the same way he does with his deceased wife? even if his wife died many years ago, he still have the love he has for her, as if she's still around to feel it.

-

you were currently laying on the couch as you hug yourself for warmth. it wasn't an argument with toji, but you just want to be left alone for now. the words "i love you" accidentally slipped out of your mouth, and you didn't mind if toji doesn't reply and you just hoped he didn't reply to it at all.

"i love you, toji." you whispered, enough for him to hear and his eyes looked guilty as he looked away from you.

"you shouldn't." toji replied. "you'll just hurt yourself."

"i know."

"you know we're married only in papers, we already decided to be just friends." you already know that, but you couldn't just hold back anymore, and of course he would say that. toji thinks no one could replace the love his deceased wife showed and gave him. she was there at his lowest point, she comforted him, told him the words he doesn't know he deserves to hear and toji just couldn't open his heart to love someone, at least not anymore. his wife was enough, megumi addressing you as his mother is enough, even a part of toji doesn't want it.

you glanced at the ring he's caressing on his finger. it should be the ring you placed on his finger on the wedding day but instead, it was the promise ring his wife had gave him. your heart couldn't ache anymore. you're so used at the empty feeling that it doesn't hurt you anymore.

"i'm sorry.." you mumbled as you excused yourself, deciding to just sleep on the couch. there you've grown to realize that being attached with toji fushiguro was the biggest mistake you'll ever done but you'll never regret.

-

you woke up with a shuffling beside you. you opened your eyes and saw megumi with his small blanket on his hand as he frowned at you.

"mama, it's cold." megumi said as he hurriedly draped his blanket above you.

"it's fine, megumi." you smiled at him as megumi tucked his small body on your arms.

"mama, did papa make you cry?" megumi asked and you pinched his nose as you disagree with his question.

"no megumi, mama fell asleep here while watching." you said.

"okay, i love you mama." megumi said and it has been minutes since he said those words and you were still silent that it made megumi look up at you.

"mama, i love you." he repeated with a hushed tone.

"i―" it was as if you choked on something as you embraced the child. "i love my baby too." you muttered.

after that conversation with toji, everything feels weird as if it's reminding you of your place, that you were forced to marry toji to strengthen your family's bond with the zenin's.

"papa loves you too." megumi mumbled and you just hoped it was true.

toji's mother suddenly visited that day without a notice and toji wasn't around. his family doesn't really hate you but there's always a weird atmosphere around when you're close with them. just when his mother asked where toji was, he suddenly came back from work.

you knew he went here in rush, and the way he wrapped his arms around you as his lips came in contact with your forehead made your heart flutter. but you reminded yourself that it was only for a show. his mother smiled at the scene as toji sat beside you on the dining table.

"what brings you here, ma." toji asked in an annoyed tone.

"i just wanted to visit my grandson." you excused yourself a bit as you made your way towards the kitchen to make them something to eat and drink, and when you came back, the question you and toji were avoiding got asked by his mother.

"when do you plan on having another child?" she asked.

"no plans yet, we're to busy to have another child running around. megumi is enough."

"it's been a year since you're both married. why not give it a try?"

"ma―" you cut toji off before he could say something harsh to his mother.

"we did try it, ma, but it didn't really work so we decided to just wait for the right time." you answered, lied for toji and his mother seemed to buy it.

"ok.. but i am getting old, toji. we need to see a female granchild too." she said before excusing herself to go to her grandson who was playing. toji huffed at her mother's response as he stood up from the chair.

"i am sorry about that, toji." you said because as much as possible, you wanted to avoid answering that question too. toji sighed as he left the kitchen to get changed and when he went back to the living room, his mother was about to leave.

finally. he thought.

"just give it a try." toji's mother told you as she went inside her car.

"why'd she go here without informing me." toji muttered as megumi sat between you and him on the couch, showing the chocolate his grandmother gave him.

"i was surprised too."

"that's fine, thank you for covering up for me." he said as he stood up from the couch and took the chocolate on megumi's hand while carrying him. megumi whined in surprise as his father carried him like a sack of rice as you slowly followed behind.

"papa!" he exclaimed, kicking and punching but it was no use.

"come on, we don't want mama to get mad for eating to much sweets at night." toji said. he wasn't talking about you, you know that.

he placed megumi down beside the refrigerator as he placed the chocolate inside.

"too much sweet is not good for you." toji said as he carried megumi once again.

-

you just finished washing the dishes as you walked past megumi's room, and their muffled voices made you eavesdrop at their conversation, and you maybe you just didn't.

"megumi, why are you being so stubborn? you don't want mama to get mad right?"

"mama doesn't get mad at me!" megumi yelled as you smile a bit at his words.

"megumi, did you already forget your real mama, hm? she'll be sad in heaven. you want that?" toji said and his words was like a needle that was continuously poking at your chest.

"huh? but mama is here." megumi said, pointing at the door.

"look, (name) is just a replacement for your mama, but your real mama? she loves you, her love for you couldn't be replaced by someone."

"even (name)?" megumi said, and the way he addressed you by your name, you admit hurts. you took a deep breath as you felt a sharp pain in your chest. but that's fine, you're already used to it.

"yes, now go and sleep okay?"

"okay."

-

megumi started acting awkwardly towards you the next day, he was trying his best to avoid your gaze, maybe even you. he would stutter through his words between calling your name or 'mama'.

"bye bye, (name).." megumi looks away at you as he held toji's hand.

"bye bye." you replied as you forced a smile and megumi looked back once at the front door as they finally left the house.

-

"papa, i don't want to see mama sad." megumi said as toji placed his seatbelt. megumi might be a kid but he can clearly understood human emotions. when he called you by your name earlier, he saw how your smile disappeared but then you covered it up by a forced smile, and you just let him call you by your name.

"she's not sad-"

"yes she is."

"you don't understand, megumi." toji said and megumi only kept quiet because he knew arguing with his father is useless.

-

megumi jolted awake. he fell asleep after being in school the whole day as he searched for your presence. he had a dream, a really bad one and he found you in your and his father's room, talking to someone in your phone. megumi heard a sob coming out of you. you said something that megumi couldn't quite hear as you finally ended the call. he watched as you wiped your tears with your palms and took a deep breath. megumi silently close the door as he went back to the living room, sitting patiently as you appeared on his view.

"oh, megumi. how was your sleep?" you asked as you kneeled infront of the boy. megumi observed your eyes, they were a bit red.

"it's fine, mama." you were taken aback. he's calling you mama again. you smiled as you cupped his chubby cheeks.

"are you hungry?" you asked and he nods as you guided him on his feet. he didn't let go of your hand.

"mama, i love you. you're my one and only mama." you felt megumi's small hands squeeze your big ones, as if he's reassuring you of something.

"i love you too, my one and only baby. now let's go and prepare dinner!" megumi noticed that your mood shifted, and he was proud of himself that he was the one who brought a smile on your face.

-

it's unusual for you to wake up with toji's arms around you. you knew toji didn't do it on purpose, he was drunk last night and you just want to indulge the moment, even just for a minute or even seconds. you felt toji moved and you immediately stood up from the bed.

why do you feel guilty? it's not like you and toji were cheating on his wife. but that's how you felt. toji was still sleeping as you sighed, placing the blanket above him as you went out of the room.

"good morning, mama!" megumi greeted as he closed his ipad off.

"morning, 'gumi. what do you want for breakfast?"

"anything you cook!" he answered as he sat on the kitchen stool, watching you prepare the ingredients you needed.

"pancakes or rice?"

"rice!"

"okay." you laughed at his energetic response.

"mama can we buy art materials later? my teacher said we'll do arts on monday."

"sure, let's go out after we eat."

-

toji heard you and megumi talking as he arrived the living room. and just as he was about to enter the kitchen, your body bumped on his chest.

"oh, i was about to wake you up. breakfast is ready." you said, about to went back to the table but toji held your arm to stop you for a moment. he placed his other hand behind his head as he looks away.

"did i said something weird? last night." he asked as you look at him for a moment before you shake your head left to right. toji sighed in relief as he let go of your arm, both of you sitting on the kitchen stool. you look at toji, and he looks at you, but you couldn't meet his eyes as you smiled at megumi and place the food on his plate.

-

you just finished brushing your teeth as you were disturbed with a loud thud outside the bathroom.

"toji? are you there?" you called.

it was as if your soul went out of your body for a second, toji appeared infront of you. a curse slipped out of your mouth as toji's weight fell on you.

this was your first time seeing toji drunk, even your first time encountering a drunk person and you really don't know what to do so you tried your best to pull him with you in the room since he was so heavy.

once you opened the door of your room, you and toji fell on the ground. does his wife encountered this event a lot of times? if so what did she do?

toji was whispering something. you couldn't quite hear him as you placed your ear close to his mouth, the smell of alcohol getting stronger than it was and he was apologizing. you were confused as you move away from him.

"toji, i can't carry you anymore." you said, trying to wake him up as toji's eyes slightly opened.

"my wife." he whispered, you don't know if that certain beat in your heart was because he called you his wife or maybe because he mistook you of his wife.

and the next words he uttered is what you didn't expect as he suddenly placed his hand on your cheek and you were completely frozen in your spot as he continued to speak.

toji's hand finally slipped from your face as his head fell on your shoulder and you sit there, processing the words he said just a minute ago

he didn't mistook you as if wife, he indeed called you his wife and it warmed your heart.

"mama?" you were out of your thoughts when you felt megumi's hand above yours. "are you okay?" he asked as you look at him and then at toji.

"i'm fine, what was it again?" you asked, facing megumi as he smiled at you.

"papa will go with us later!" he said.

"oh? is that so?" you said as you look at toji, waiting for his answer.

he laughs at your reaction.

"looks like you don't want to?" he joked.

"it's not like that! it's always just me and megumi, since you're always busy.." you responded.

"yeah, today's a day off." you cursed internally. you have an appointment to the doctor today, you thought taking megumi with you would be fine, but toji? what reason should you tell him? you couldn't possibly say that you have a family meeting. no, you don't even have someone you can call a family, except for this two. plus toji would be updated if there's a family gathering.

maybe you'll ask the doctor to move appointments.

-

"are you sure? though i'm not sure when my schedule's gonna be clear again, (name)."

"it's fine choso, i can wait, just update me."

"sorry about that, i'm busy these days plus yuuji's been wanting attention too."

"is that so?" you said as you smile. "i want to meet him soon! looks like he's a good kid."

"soon, i'll bring him to the hospital with me."

"okay, see you next time then?"

"yeah. and (name), don't stress yourself too much, it's bad for the heart." you smiled at his words.

"of course, thank you. bye."

"who's choso?" startled by the voice, you immediately hid your phone behind you.

he was eavesdropping.

toji raised his eyebrow at your reaction as he opened his cabinet.

"a friend of mine."

"really? didn't know you have a friend." toji said in a voice you couldn't recognize, it was as if he's mocking you. you scoffed at him, deciding to just ignore his words.

you were about to leave the room but toji's voice stopped you.

"if you're starting to date someone, don't inform megumi about it. or he'll be sad." he said, mumbling the last sentence as you left. did toji really thought you were dating someone even if you're married already?

sure everything is one-sided, but you just don't have it in you to date someone, not when toji already has your heart, your everything. even if he doesn't know it. but you think it's better for toji to assume that choso is something in your life than choso just being an appointed doctor.

-

toji was too drunk when he got home and he think he just saw his deceased wife, but when he approached the person, it turned out to be you.

toji noticed that he was at the bathroom and felt your hands on his arms as you place it on your shoulder. he felt drinking that day, he wanted to forget everything or maybe when his wife appeared on his dream last night, the words he told her. he didn't want to wake up that night.

toji already forgot her face, her voice, how her hands felt on his. he already promised that they will meet again. in next life or in another universe. it doesn't matter where, as long as he could meet his wife again. but his wife told him in his dreams that he should move on, and he couldn't just do that.

toji did saw your efforts. he saw how you care for him, especially megumi. but he couldn't just stop himself from comparing you to his wife on his mind. no one could ever replace his wife. toji squinted his eyes, he saw you trying to pick him up.

"toji, i can't carry you anymore." but your words was a blur to him.

toji's hand twitched and moved on its own as he sat up from the floor.

"i'm sorry, i can't." he muttered as he placed his rough hand on your cheek, observing your eyes as he leaned his forehead on yours. "i can't love no more. i can't love you the same way. i'm sorry."

toji was the man of your dreams.

he might not know it but toji saved your life, he saved you from the hands of your greedy parents.

"i can't love you the same way, i'm sorry." the way he said those words were filled with guilt.

sometimes you put yourself on his place. if you were the one that has a past lover who died, of course it'll be hard to move on, especially when that person made you feel love and gave you the world.

toji was miserable back then, not until he met her. she fixed him. just like you and toji, you met him and he fixed you. the only difference was they loved each other. she loved him and he loved her, while you love him but he was stuck in the past.

there were times where you watch him sleep, not in a bad way, but just want to admire him where you whisper your love for him. he won't hear it of course. his dreams must be more entertaining than the words you're whispering to him.

toji's words that night made an impact to you. everything he does for you, you started viewing it as him just doing it for kindness and not for love. maybe toji just doesn't want to hurt you further because he knew how badly your family treated you back then. you were on the same page after all.

now you realized that maybe it was bound to happen, that being married with toji is enough, being a mother figure to megumi was enough. he already did enough for you, for taking you away from your hell life. you'll just pay him back by doing what you should for him and megumi.

you'll just love him silently. you'll bury your feelings deep inside your heart that only you, yourself knew. maybe wait for him to finally acknowledge you. but you knew it wouldn't happen this time around.

for now, you'll just watch him love someone who wasn't even around anymore.

-

toji was showing you a picture of his past wife because you asked him to see her. she looked a lot like megumi, but a female version. now you know why toji fell in love with her. even in the picture, it was already obvious that his wife was kind and a loving person. but you're kind and a loving person too, aren't you? the universe is so unfair.

"this is when she was 7 months pregnant." toji said as he pointed a specific picture. you smiled at his words as you continue to listen to him. but toji suddenly went silent all of the sudden and closed the album as he cleared his throat.

"why, did you want to see it?" he asked as he placed the album back inside his drawer.

"just curious, she looked a lot like megumi." you said as you lean your head on your knees, facing him. "how did you meet her?"

"it was an arranged marriage too." he said. "i wasn't really favored with it but i don't have a choice." toji smiled. how can a person like her make him smile like this when you can't? "she was simple, i suddenly fell in love with her." toji said with adoration in his voice as he looked at you.

you sighed as you lay flat on the bed and started stretching your arms.

"ah, i wonder if someone would love me that way too." you sighed as you turned your back on him.

"you will, but that couldn't be me." he said straightforwardly as if reminding you that you couldn't change his mind anymore and it made you curl yourself on the sheets.

"are you and that choso dating?" toji asked as you turn to face him. he was leaning his back on the headboard with a laptop on his lap.

"no? why'd you assume we're dating?"

"you've been going out a lot these days, i just thought."

"are you okay with that?" you asked.

"of course." and he didn't even hesitate which hurt you more. "i mean, maybe he's the one you're looking for?" toji said as he closed the laptop, the surroundings being engulfed with darkness, the bright moon outside being the only source of light.

but you're already here. you wanted to say those words but you already knew what he'll respond to it. toji lay flat on the bed as he placed his arms behind his head while you were still facing him.

"not gonna answer my question?"

"oh? what was it again?"

"i said maybe choso is the one you're looking for."

"toji-"

"i just want what's best for you, y/n. you know, i can't really.."

"toji, i already know that. choso is just a friend, nothing more, nothing less." you said followed by a sigh. "at least just let me be by your side." you whispered, hoping that he heard even just a bit of it.

"if you insist, but i already warned you." toji said.

"i know.." toji was just beside you, but he's far within your reach. has it always been like this? every night, you and toji always ends the day with a conversation, same question with the same answers and toji will end up with his back facing you. every night, you couldn't sleep. only whispering those three words to him hoping and praying that he'll hear it and say it back.

every i love you's that was whispered were left hanging on the air. sometimes it was tiring, thinking of the words toji said that maybe he wasn't really for you and you weren't the one for him.

"good night." you mumbled.

"good night." he replied and everything was dark.

i love you, toji.

those words you utter to yourself every single day and night, hoping that he'll say it back, maybe just once, and it might heal the void inside your heart. but not a single day he said it back.

-

toji felt guilty but he shouldn't be feeling this way. you were just married on papers and already agreed that being friends was enough. yet he couldn't help but watch as you curl yourself, as if seeking for a comfort he knew he couldn't give you. he apologized on his mind, he couldn't say it out loud because he knew how it would hurt you more, so he just stayed silent.

toji switched off the lights as he lay comfortably to the side with your back facing him. he doesn't know how long he's been closing his eyes but sleep just couldn't take over him.

"i love you, toji."

he froze on his spot and his body tensed as he heard you whispered those words. he then felt your fingers caress the scar on his lips.

"i'm sorry if you ever feel guilty for not returning my love for you. but always know that i understand you." you whispered and your touch disappeared on his skin as he felt your warmth get close to him. "i'll keep waiting, maybe someday.." minutes passed, toji was still waiting for you to say something but you were already silent.

he opened his one eye and the first thing he saw was your back, there were a space between you and him.

is it always this far? are you always this far from him? toji doesn't know. he tried to reach for you but he stopped himself. and then again, another apology had slipped on his mind. he couldn't say it back, not when he swore to only say those words to the person he loves.

toji finally closed his eyes as the sleepiness take over his body. he knew that the one for you, who'll cherish you, love you like how you deserve it will eventually come and toji was already certain that it wasn't him.

it was really true that first love never dies now that you've experienced it and toji was enough proof. you couldn't stop loving him the way he couldn't stop loving his past wife. how can you even wish someone to just die when they're already dead? it was weird but were you too cruel for that?

you just hope that someday, toji will look at you the way you've always been wanting and craving. you'll wait, even if your and his hair turns white or even if you only have enough time to live.

-

"just this once?" you whispered as toji held your cold hands as he placed it on his cheek.

toji closed his eyes as he placed your hand back on the bed, hospital bed.

"i'm really sorry.." he whispered back and it was enough for you to hear it.

a small laugh left your lips. it's so hard even to laugh now.

"that's fine, at least thank you for being here."

"i'll say it if you want."

"don't say something you don't mean, toji." you smiled at him.

"yeah, i guess so."

-

you sit up from the bed as you wake up. it was just dream, but it felt to real for it to be a dream.

you couldn't help but cry as you cover your mouth as you felt a hand on your back.

"what's wrong? another nightmare?" toji asked. even in your dreams, in your death bed, toji still didn't love you. even in your deathbed, toji still couldn't love you the way you wanted it. maybe it was sign that toji doesn't have to know your condition.

he doesn't need to know.

"it's nothing, let's go back to sleep?"

-

you went out again. toji heard you talking to someone on the phone, he guessed it was choso. he didn't mean to follow you but he still did.

toji ended up following you on a hospital and he was confused. are you sick? toji asked himself, but you always looked fine.

he anxiously tap his finger on the steering as he waited for you on his car and it took you more than 30 minutes to finally come out of the hospital again.

why does that doctor have to send you out? even placing his hand on your back.

toji watched you enter your car. he waited for you to leave before going out of his car to enter inside the hospital.

he was hesitant as he finally arrived the front desk.

he cleared his throat as he faced the lady infront.

"is there a patient named (name)?"

"(name)?" the nurse repeated as she looked down the lists but your name wasn't there. "i'm so sorry but there is no patient named y/n here."

"ah, mr. fushiguro. did (name) send you here?" toji turned around at the voice and he was met with the same doctor he saw outside the hospital. toji's eyebrow furrowed as he fully faced him. "i'm choso by the way, y/n's doctor. i guess she already told you?"

-

"mama?" you heard as you enter the front door.

megumi approached you as he embraced you.

"did you just woke up?" you asked as both of you went back to the living room.

"a while ago.."

"where's your papa?"

"i woke up when he left."

"he left? but he said it's his day off today." you mumbled as you recalled his words. "anyway, what do you want for breakfast, gumi?"

-

as toji entered the house, yours and megumi's muffled voice can be heard at the front door. it looked like you and megumi is having fun. toji finally entered the kitchen and saw you with megumi baking a cupcake.

"papa!" megumi exclaimed as he jumped down the stool to approach his father, the icing on megumi's clothes being transferred to toji's clean ones.

"welcome back, toji. where have you been?" you asked and it suddenly smelled like cigarettes.

she looks fine. toji thought, but he was trying to stare at you as if it'll reveal something.

"toji?" you called him with concern as he snapped out of his thoughts.

"just went out. who's that for?"

"mama said she wants to try baking!" megumi answered.

"is that so?" toji said as megumi hummed in response.

toji looked at you once again, but his stare was making you uncomfortable. there's something weird about the way he looks at you and it was scaring you.

"i'll rest for a bit." toji said as he left the kitchen.

"mama, did you and papa fight?" megumi asked as he approached you.

"no megumi, he's just tired." you smiled down at megumi to reassure him and he warmly returned your smile.

toji didn't left the room that day.

you lay down beside him, still minding the space with both of your backs facing each other.

you heard shuffling behind you but you paid no mind to it. and when you turned your body to the other side, you were surprised to come face to face with toji.

"hey." you started as you slightly move back to create more space. "are you not hungry? there's still left over from the kitchen.

"i'm fine." toji replied with a low voice as you nod at his words.

"good night, toji." you said as you went back to face the other side again.

you were waiting for his reply but minute passed, he was still silent so you took a deep breath and sighed while closing your eyes. but the moment you closed your eyes, you felt him move close to you. he tucked his arms below your body and then the other above you as he easily pulled you close to him.

"good night." he replied as you look up at him with shock. did he just initiate a physical touch? he's not drunk, right?

"mhm." you simply replied, still surprised. toji didn't move away after that, he stayed still and so were you.

"are you drunk?" you asked that made toji open his eyes.

"i'm not. why asking?"

"well, it's- is this okay with you?" you asked and your voice was too small that toji almost didn't catch it.

you were out of words. it was weird for toji to act this way, especially when he's not even drunk. does he need something from you?

it hurts to think that he's only being affectionate because he needs something from you. either way, you'll still do what he'll ask you because you love him.

"are you not comfortable with it?" the way you immediately stopped him when he was about to remove his arms around you was a desperate move, but you didn't want to lose this chance because it might not happen again.

"no, i like it.. it's just, we've never done this before, shouldn't you be the one who's uncomfortable with this? i mean-"

"shh, let's just stay like this." toji murmured as he pulled you a little more close to him. his warm breath fanning on your neck.

you smiled but if felt like something was missing. you felt complete but at the same time you're not. you placed your hands on top of toji's that was around you as you give it a light squeeze.

"toji." you called his name in a whispered tone as you heard him hummed in response. "i'm not her, toji."

you didn't know why you even said those words. toji was hugging you but there were possibilities of him thinking his wife on you. because why would he suddenly do this if not for that?

as those words left your mouth, the warm presence that was comforting you suddenly disappeared. you weren't even surprised when he did that, just a tiny bit of ache in your heart.

heh, i knew it. but it's fine, i still loved it. you thought to yourself as you ended up curling your own body again, seeking for the comfort that was there just a while ago.

maybe someday, toji will hug you again, but that time, you hope he'll do it as him thinking of you, not while thinking of his deceased wife.

-

"i'm choso by the way, (name)'s doctor. i guess she already told you?"

"hah?" toji rasped in confusion as he looked at choso. so this was choso and he's a doctor.

not bad. toji thought.

"then why are you here, mr. fushiguro? your wife left just 5 minutes ago."

"i know." toji replied.

choso raised his eyebrow at the man in front of him.

"do you perhaps need something from me?" choso couldn't help but ask because the way toji looked at him was different.

"yes, i want to talk to you."

both of them ended outside the hospital where there were no people around.

-

toji slammed his hand on the wall, slightly embarrassed as he watch the doctor laugh in front of him.

"what's funny." toji rasped.

"sorry, sorry-" choso replied as he pants, he never had a good laugh these days. "mr. fushiguro, are you assuming that your wife is having an affair with me?"

"i didn't mean it that way, i was just asking if you and (name) have something."

"mr. fushiguro, ms. (name) is just my patient, i'm sorry if it came off that way." choso said as he leaned his back on the wall. "plus i know my boundaries, i wouldn't go with a married woman, y'know." toji calmed his body as he leaned his back on the wall like choso did.

"she's always talking to you on the phone, that's why i assumed."

"(name) told me a lot about you."

"i'm hoping it's the good ones."

"not even once your wife badmouthed you, mister." choso replied as he offered toji a cigarette to which he declined.

"she's not sick, is she?" toji asked.

"mhm, your wife was diagnosed with arrhythmia."

"arrhythmia?" toji faced choso at his words.

"her heartbeat is irregular, mr.fushiguro. are you not taking a good care of your wife?" choso tried to joke him but he didn't expect toji to stay silent. "well, i hope she's not lying when she said she doesn't smoke and drink?"

"no, she doesn't." toji said.

"anxiety or any emotional distress can cause this. are you perhaps having a lot of fight? her condition has been like this for a long time now."

"no, we don't fight." toji said "is it harming her that much?" toji asked

"for now, it's not. but if she doesn't take a good care of herself, it may lead to a heart failure."

"how to avoid this?" choso looked at toji in disbelief. did you seriously kept it a secret to your husband?

-

"toji." you called him as he was about to leave the house. "i'm sorry about last night." you said.

you frowned as you heard the front door close. toji was ignoring you. you felt guilty for saying those words last night but you just couldn't hold back anymore. it was hurting you. why would you say that when toji only wanted to be close with you?

you sighed in defeat as you turn around, continuing the dishes you were doing.

you knew how toji hated it when it's about his wife, yet you still brought it up.

-

"toji!" you scolded.

it was yet another night where he came home drunk, you're almost starting to get used of this scenario.

"i said don't touch me!" he yelled back as you stumbled back a bit from the force of his push.

you were getting scared. not even once toji had yelled at you, this was the first time. was the words you said really did have an impact to him? now you feel more guilty than you were. you were scared that toji would start looking at you the way your family did.

only because of the stupid words you said.

"toji." you said in a more calmer tone as you guide him on his feet.

"let go." he mumbled.

"i will. let's go to the room first, okay?" you sighed in relief when toji did what you said without saying anything.

"mama.." toji's voice must've woke megumi up as he look at you with concerned eyes.

toji shrugged his shoulders to remove your hand on his shoulders as he kneeled infront of megumi.

"megumi, mama's not here anymore." toji said.

you were taken aback but megumi was more surprised than you were that he started crying.

he was pushing toji away from him as he cry.

"i hate you!" megumi yelled as he finally free himself from toji and hugged your leg.

"it's okay, 'gumi. go back to sleep." you said as you kneeled on megumi's level while he cried in your shirt.

toji stood up by himself as he entered your shared bedroom, closing the door with a force as you flinch in surprise.

"mama." megumi cried.

"it's fine now, he's just tired."

"you say that a lot of times." megumi said as he wiped his tears. "let's sleep together, mama." you look at your room door as you nod at megumi.

maybe toji needs to have his time alone for now.

-

you were humming a lullaby as you sing megumi to sleep.

you already sang the lullaby 3 times already and just like you, megumi couldn't sleep at all. he knew you were crying but he decided to not talk to you.

megumi pretended to be asleep as you finally stopped humming.

he heard you took a deep breath as you pulled his small body close to you.

"night night, 'gumi." he heard you whispered as he felt the dip on his bed beside him disappear.

megumi squinted his eyes and saw you walking out of his room as the door finally closed leaving him inside his now dark room.

megumi sat up from his bed as he silently followed you.

he was tiptoeing as he followed you to the kitchen.

you were sitting there, a glass of water between your hands as you stare at nothing.

you were too drained as you wiped the remaining tears your eyes could release.

megumi was lost in his thoughts and didn't hear you walking on his way, but before you could caught him, he showed himself to you.

"megumi?" you called him, slightly surprised at his presence. "what's wrong?"

"um water, mama." he said as he noticed you smile a bit before giving him a glass of water.

-

"all good?" you asked as megumi tucked you and himself on the blanket as he hug you. he nods in response as he sighed in content.

"mama, i will tell papa tomorrow to say sorry." he said.

"it's fine, 'gumi. he's just tired and mama understands." you said as you brushed megumi's hair with your fingers.

"okay, i love you mama."

"i love you too, now go back to sleep you have school tomorrow."

-

when megumi woke up the next morning, you were still sleeping beside him. he kissed your tear stained cheek as he went out to start his day.

he found his father on the kitchen counter, holding his head with his hand.

toji noticed megumi's presence as he immediately approached his son.

"where's your mama?" toji asked as he placed his hands on megumi's shoulders.

megumi noticed that his father was restless, but he deserved it for yelling at you last night.

"say sorry to mama, papa." megumi said.

"ha? where's she?"

"in my room. mama was crying because of you!" megumi yelled, he almost wanted to cry as he recalled your unreadable expression last night. "i saw mama drink so many medicine, papa." megumi muttered.

toji massaged his temples as he made his way to megumi's room with megumi following behind.

toji slowly opened the door and sighed in relief as he finally saw you.

megumi's small blanket couldn't even cover your whole body as toji approached you and gently carried you to the bed, transferring you to your shared room.

"let's not wake up mama for now." toji said as he pats megumi's head. "i'll drive you to school."

-

"papa." megumi called as he fixed the seatbelt of the front seat. toji hummed in response as he waited for the street lights to turn green. "do you hate mama?" megumi was hesitant at his question.

"no." toji responded plainly.

"but you always make mama cry." megumi mumbled. "you always say that she's not my mama and it's hurting her. i always see mama cry, i just stay quiet." toji ignored his son as he started driving.

-

toji went back home after sending megumi to school and you were still sleeping.

he sat on the bed as he tried to recall anything that has happened last night but he couldn't remember anything.

he felt you moved as he look at you. you were finally awake.

you saw him as you sit up from the bed.

"good morning." you greeted as you rubbed your eyes.

toji was waiting for you to say something about last night but you didn't and instead smiled at him as you stretched your body.

"megumi!" you exclaimed as you realized that you were supposed to send him to school.

"i already drove him to school."

"ah really? thank you." you said as you finally relaxed your body. "then, what do you want for breakfast?"

-

has it been always like this? toji asked himself as he watched you prepare breakfast.

is it always like this the next day when he came home every night he's drunk?

you were all smile but this was the first time toji noticed that it was forced. is it really always like this?

toji wasn't the one to get nervous but when he recalled the nights he came home drunk, he couldn't recall anything.

he must've said or did something hurtful to you that you do not wish to tell him the next morning.

megumi was always a witness to it but you always tell him to stay quiet.

"i'll go out later." you said as he snapped out of his thoughts.

"okay. want me to accompany you?" toji noticed the way you immediately declined his request and there, he exactly knew where you're headed.

toji watched you drink the hot chocolate in your mug.

"(name)." he called.

"mh?"

"i'm sorry. if i ever did something last night."

not just last night, every time he comes home drunk, toji would say something hurtful and you were even convinced that he means some of it.

the first time he came home drunk, he told you he couldn't love you the way you love him and that was fine for you. but second time he came home drunk, he said the words i love you, but it wasn't for you. he said i love you but not your name in it. the third night he came home drunk, he compared you to his wife saying that you couldn't replace the role of being megumi's mother and you know that.

megumi was there and he cried with you saying that he loves you and don't listen to what his father said to you. but then it happened again. he watch his father get mad at everything, including you, his mother who just wanted to help him get to bed. he knew his father wasn't in his right mind because he was drunk. he cried with you again that night.

megumi got used to seeing you hiding your sobs from him. he already saw you cry silently or sometimes you just sit there to stare at nothing. megumi once caught you breathing heavily on the bathroom and there was a blood on the sink. you told him that it was nothing and megumi was just a kid, of course he would believe you that it was just nothing.

but as megumi continues to grow, he's starting to think that his father hates you. he started observing the two of you and there was nothing wrong with your relationship, except when his father is drunk. don't get megumi wrong, he still loves her real mother but you were the one who raised him. he haven't seen his mother once, only in pictures.

"(name)?" you snapped out of your thoughts as you looked from your plate to toji.

"i said i'm sorry." he said.

"it's fine, you were drunk."

"so i did said something, huh." toji cursed under his breath as he heard you laugh.

"don't worry, it's not that deep."

it was. but remembering it will only hurt you more.

you've been having nightmares these days and you don't know if it's a sign for something. every dream you had was weird. there were times where toji would appear in your dreams. sometimes he hates you and sometimes, he loves you that you don't even want to wake up anymore.

you were currently sitting inside a hospital room as choso stood meters away from you.

"are you even taking a rest like i told you to?"

"yes."

"then why is your condition getting worse?" choso's words made you look at him, he was writing something on a paper.

"really?"

"really. (name), i am telling you this now, you'll suffer the consequences if you don't listen to me."

"but i do take rest."

"taking rest isn't enough, you should avoid your heart from getting tired. have you experienced panic attack these past few weeks?"

"n-no."

"you're lying."

"i'm not."

"your husband's worried, you know." you don't know why choso words made your heart clench, but you just hope his words were true.

"really?" you said as if you weren't convinced. choso looks at you and back at the paper as he sighed.

"i'll add another medicine, make sure to take it on time."

"why do we have to do these things?" you said as choso looked up from the paper to you.

"what do you mean?" choso asked as he raised his eyebrow at you.

"i mean, isn't better to just wait until it's over?" choso got silent, clearly surprised at the words you said. you noticed his reaction as you released a nervous laugh. "what am i even saying.." you said as you laughed at yourself.

"are you even hearing yourself?"

"i know what i said, choso. but don't worry, i was just joking."

"not a funny one. you just don't know it (name) but your husband's really worried."

"if you think your words would calm me, it's not working."

"huh?" you stood up from the seat before choso could say something.

"i guess we're already done here?" you said as choso nods.

"(name). take a proper rest."

-

you fell asleep the moment you got home and when you went downstairs, it was messy.

the television was on full volume and megumi was nowhere to be seen. toji was on the kitchen sleeping, there was a consumed bottle of liquor beside him.

"toji." you shake him to wake him up but it didn't work at first try so you did it again.

he was awake all of the sudden as he look around the kitchen. toji was drunk again as you thought of the things that happens every night he came home drunk. you hope he would just stay silent and wouldn't say anything anymore.

"let's get you to bed." you said as you helped him stand up but before you and toji reached the room, you fell on the floor as you entered the room. and the scene was so familiar to you.

"(name)." he called as you snapped out of the memory. "(nameee)." he called again.

"i'm here." you said.

"you're here?" he said as he touched your face as if he doesn't believe you. "you're really here." he said as he smiled and embraced you.

and you, you were taken aback, but you just let him.

"why did you leave me?" he said.

there he goes again.

"hey, look at me." he said as he held your cheeks with his thumb and pointer finger.

why does looking at him hurts.

"don't ever think that i don't love you, okay? i'm so grateful that you're here.." you were waiting for it. for him to call his wife's name but you didn't expect that he'll say yours. "if i started loving you, are you going to stay?" he said and you were speechless. "i'm sick of people leaving me." he mumbled as he embraced you. "i don't want you to leave. i promise, i'll love you like how you want it. i'll do it, i'll move on from her but in exchange, don't ever leave, okay? we'll heal you, you'll be fine."

what was he even talking about? it's not like your leaving or something, right?

you sighed, brushing off his words as you placed him on the bed.

"don't force yourself to love someone, toji. go to sleep, i'll look for megumi."

-

you were about to leave the house as you heard sobs coming from the house. and when you followed the sound, you were surprised to see megumi who tucked himself at a kitchen cabinet.

"mama!" he said as he embraced you.

"megumi, what are you doing inside the cabinet?"

"i'm hiding." he frowned as you wiped his tears.

"from who?" you said with a soft voice to calm him.

"mama.." megumi mumbled as his voice slightly cracked. "papa said you'll leave us."

"he said that?" you said as you kneeled into his level and he nods at your question. "he's lying." you said as megumi sighed in relief and embraced you once again.

"papa said you'll leave just like my real mama." megumi pulled away from the hug as he saw your surprised expression. "it's not true, right? mama."

your forced a smile as you pinched megumi's cheeks.

"of course, mama won't leave. never."

"toji, can you drive megumi to school today?" you muttered as you saw toji who was about to leave the room.

"what was that?" toji asked as he closed the door once again and approached you. you sit up from the bed and your vision started to spin.

"bring megumi to school." you said followed with a small cough.

"yeah sure." he hesitantly said.

"thanks." you mumbled as you lay back down on the bed.

"you okay?" toji asked as you felt him sit on the bed.

"i'm fine, must be a fever." you said but toji wasn't convinced and placed the back of his palm on your forehead to your neck and you were burning. toji was about to say something but he felt your cold hands on his.

"i'm fine, don't worry." you assured him with a smile as you let go of his hand and faced the other side. you were burning but your hands were too cold.

"i'll be back." toji said, immediately leaving the room as you heard the doorknob clicked.

-

toji was back after sending megumi to school. megumi insisted on seeing you before leaving but if he found out you're sick, toji knew megumi wouldn't want to go to school anymore. you weren't in the room when toji entered.

he started looking for you around the house and the kitchen was the last place he expected to see you. he sighed in relief when he saw you sleeping on the table with a glass of water in your right hand. toji's eybrows furrowed as he silently approached you. he can hear your soft snores as he went closer and closer.

"(name)?" he said in a whispered tone and you woke up within a second as you look around.

"oh?" was the only word you let out as you felt toji's hands on your shoulders. "i fell asleep."

"what are you doing here?" he said as you tried to stand up but you failed. you don't have the energy even to stand up.

"i got thirsty but i got tired before i even drink water." you said as you finally drink the glass of water.

"you should see a doctor." toji suggested.

"i'm finee." you said as you let toji guide you back to the room.

slowly, you sit from the bed as toji helped you to lay down. he placed a blanket above your body and went straight to the bathroom inside the room. he went back with a wet towel and a bucket of water as he started wiping your face with it.

"thank you." you whispered, even your throat was hurting. toji didn't respond as he continued on his task and after that, toji took another towel and placed it above your head.

"toji." you called as he stopped at the door he just opened.

'can you stay please?'

how badly you wanted to ask him to stay with you, but the dreams you had before started replaying in your mind. maybe you shouldn't. "it's nothing." you said as you pulled the blanket above your chin.

toji seemed to notice your distress as he silently closed the door and approached you again.

"i will be back. i'll just buy you food." he said as you covered your whole body with the blanket.

"okay." you said and you couldn't stop yourself from smiling.

do you have to be sick for toji to look out for you? maybe being sick is not that bad after all.

toji came back after five minutes, it's not that you're counting though, you were just bored.

"where did you go?" you asked as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"i'll just order, what do you want- i mean, you can't eat anything for now, let's just order a soup." toji looked at you as he heard you laugh at his words.

"there's no need, toji. it's not that hard to cook a soup." you said as you sit up from the bed, only for toji to push you back down on the bed as you let him place the blanket above you.

"don't be stubborn."

"toji, don't tell me you can't cook a soup." you said.

"it's not like that, okay? i just-" he paused for a moment before turning his back on you. "you seemed like you want a some company, that's why i am here." he said.

speechless, that's how you describe yourself now.

"is that so?" you said as you watch him scratch his head.

"i'll do this on my own way, okay?"

"okay. but let me, i know exactly where to order a good soup."

-

"this looks plain as hell." toji said as he opened the soup you ordered.

"but it's delicious, and why are you complaining?" you said as you raised your eyebrow at him. "i'm the one who's gonna eat it, not you!" you exclaimed as toji huffed in response.

toji started pouring the soup on a bowl before placing a chair beside the bed. and for a moment, you look at him and he looks at you.

"it's fine, i can do it myself." you said, trying to reach the bowl on his hand but he moved it slightly away from your reach. he hesitated for a moment before taking the spoon on his finger.

"ahh." he instructed.

"toji, this is embarrassing." you muttered as you move away from the spoon.

"how are you gonna get better if you're being stubborn?"

"just let me!!"

"tch, let me handle this." he said as you, again, tried to take the spoon from him but it was useless so you did what he said as he slowly placed the spoon with soup in your mouth.

it was quiet as toji continues to feed you, until it's the last spoon of the soup, you suddenly let out a cough as the soup dripped from the corner of your mouth and to the duvet.

"oh." you mumbled as toji reached out for the tissues. "sorry." you mumbled as you started to wipe the soup on the blanket and then the corner of your mouth. "we have to change blankets, i guess."

it was too sudden that you didn't have time to process everything when toji leaned close to you. you can feel his hot breath on your cheek as he pressed his lips on the corner of your lips, with him tasting the soup he just fed you.

you were sure you were losing your breath as he pulled away as if nothing happened.

"ah, sorry." he said as if he just didn't kiss you. he started to gather the paper bag of the soup earlier and took the blanket on your hands. "i'll get a new one." he said as he finally left the room.

-

why is he acting so normal when you're there sitting on the bed, trying to calm your speeding heart at the moments earlier.

you cursed under your breath as you hide your face with your palms.

why are you even embarrassed when kissing is normal to a married couple? it was normal but it was unusual for toji to act like that, you haven't even hold hands with him but a kiss? that's way more unexpected.

-

toji gently closed the door of the room as he leaned his weight on it.

"fuck." he muttered as he clutched the blanket on his hand.

seeing you wipe the soup on the blanket with that smile on your face urge toji to do that. he himself didn't expect it too. he cursed once again before proceeding to the task in hand.

-

you were startled when the door opens.

it was toji carrying a new blanket.

"i'll pick up megumi soon." he said.

"what about your work?"

"i took a day off." you hoped he did because you were sick. "you can't be left alone." he said as if he just read your mind.

"oh. thank you."

"not a problem. make sure to do the same when i got sick too." he joked, but it didn't fail to put a smile on your face.

"of course, i would love too! but i'm not saying that i want you to get sick!"

-

"mama!" you can hear megumi's voice from afar as he finally entered your room, throwing his lunchbox bag somewhere as he approached you.

"megumi, don't get to close." you said.

"mama! are you okay?"

"megumi, stop yelling." toji said as he entered the room, picking up megumi's lunchbox bag he threw minutes ago.

"you said mama is not sick!"

"megumi, don't yell at your papa." you said as megumi finally faced you, his face turning into a frown as he faced his father once again.

"i'm sorry, papa." he muttered.

toji was impressed that you could make megumi easily obey you. a thing he couldn't do when megumi was 3 years old.

"come on, change into your home clothes." toji said as he carried megumi like a sack of rice.

"i'll be back, mama!" he said before he and toji disappeared from your view and toji came back after a minute before closing the door with a sigh.

"come and rest." you said as you pat the empty space beside you.

toji sat beside you as the surroundings became quiet. he cleared his throat as he took the plushie megumi bought you and squeezed it.

"i'm sorry." he said.

"why?" you said, completely confused at the apology he just uttered.

"earlier. i didn't mean it."

oh.

"w-well, it's fine." you said as you conceal your stutter with a cough. "it's not like i'm complaining.."

"ha?"

"i mean- don't get the wrong idea!" you said, trying to find the right words. do you say it's okay, i liked it? or it's okay, i enjoyed it? "but.. did you regret it?" you asked, and the tension suddenly became heavy.

he was quiet and must be thinking about it.

"i did-" he paused, and that small pause sure made you nervous. "not?.." toji said in a questioning manner. you felt nervous and relieved at the same time.

"what about you?" he asked and you were more than confident at your answer.

"no. if i'm being honest, i really.. liked it." the last sentence were whispered.

"was that your first kiss?" he asked and you only hummed in response. it was true that toji was your first kiss, even if it was just a peck, his lips still touched yours.

you felt toji shift on the bed as he faced you.

"come closer." he said and you hesitated for a bit as you finally faced him and crawled a bit closer to him.

you were looking anywhere but his eyes as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. and then he's leaning close again.

"tell me to stop and i will." he mumbled, forcing you to look in his dark blue eyes.

"toji, are you sure about this?" you mumbled as you clutched your pajamas under the blanket. "don't do something you'll regret, toji."

he cuts you off by finally kissing you and it wasn't just a peck like you expected it.

he continued and deepened the kiss, until you're laying on the bed and when he finally pulled away, his hands was between your head as you clutch his clothes on his shoulders.

"toji-"

"shh.. i do not regret any of it."

"i need to confine you for 15 days, so i could monitor you properly."

"but i am resting!"

"yes you are, but it's not enough. it's better if it's being observed that you're taking a rest."

"is there another way?" you said as you clutch your phone in your hand. "i actually don't know how to tell my husband." you said as choso looked at you.

"but i already called him. he said he's on his way here."

"huh, what do you mean?" you said, completely surprised that it made you stand up from the chair. "he doesn't even know that i am sick." you said. "choso, i told you to keep it a secret right?"

"i'm sorry, he accused us of having an affair. i needed to." and then there was a knock on the door, and you knew who exactly it is. toji entered the room and you look away from him.

"take a sit, mr. fushiguro." choso said as he instructed him to sit beside you. you weren't looking at him but you can feel toji's burning gaze at you. choso left the room for a moment and being alone with toji became suffocating right now.

you suddenly felt his hand above yours. you thought he would judge or even get mad at you but you but he didn't.

"we'll talk later, okay?" he said as choso finally came back.

-

"15 days? if that's enough. as long as you treat my wife." toji said. he's doing all the talking while you sit there in silence and.. he really did call you his wife.

toji thanked choso after that as he held your hand and pulled you with him. you gave choso a last glance, a glance as if he just betrayed you and he was looking at you with his apologetic gaze, and there, you and toji left the hospital.

"when did you found out?" you asked.

"a few weeks ago. i followed you." toji said as the signal lights turned red and there was a faint sound of music in the background. "why didn't you tell me?" he asked and you hesitated for a moment as you sit up straight on the front seat.

"choso said it wasn't that life threatening, that's why i thought i don't have to tell anyone." you were mumbling that toji almost didn't understand your words.

"not life threatening but now you need to be confined for 15 days?" toji said and you went silent. "do you not trust me?" he suddenly asked and you immediately disagreed at his words.

"no!" you said. "sorry, i just don't want to be a burden and.. i thought you wouldn't care." you said, whispering the last sentence as you wait for his response. and he didn't respond anymore, until both of you reached the house.

"toji, i'm really sorry." you said and he finally looked at you.

"we're in this together, why would you think i wouldn't care?" he asked and you frowned.

"i'm sorry toji. i just didn't have enough courage to tell you because.. it's because of your wife."

"my wife?" he scoffed, raising his eyebrow as you nod.

"i don't know how to tell you because all you could think of is your wife!" you were frantic as you explain, trying not to say the wrong words because it might trigger him in some way as your emotions get the best of you. "i thought you wouldn't care because i'm not her." you said as you look down on the ground, trying to hold the tears that was eager to come out.

"but i do care, this is not about her. this is about you."

"you don't understand it, toji." you said.

"then i apologize if i came of that way, that you thought i wouldn't care because all i think of is my wife." toji said, emphasizing the words with sarcasm. "but you're my wife too, my wife now." he said, the sarcasm dropping on his voice.

"but i'm not the presence you've been wanting for, i know my place, toji. you reminded me a lot of times already." you said.

when did talking about your illness turned into fighting over his deceased wife?

toji sighed at your response and you took a step back when he stepped forward.

"i'm sorry, i want to be alone for now." you mumbled as you went to your shared room.

you and him were fine just last night? what happened now? it was all because of your stubbornness. it was obvious that toji was worried and cares for you but you're pushing him away.

you couldn't help it, you aren't used at him caring for you. you're mistaking his kindness into something, that maybe he's saying all of it out of pity or guilt.

that's right, now you realized why toji was weird the past few weeks. it's because he already found out and he just didn't tell you.

-

toji forced the door open with a key and he saw you sitting at the edge of the bed. you didn't even notice him until he sat beside you.

"i'm sorry." you said at the same time.

"sorry, i involved her again." you said as you felt toji's hand at your back.

"i didn't know you felt that way." he said.

"it's okay. i know how hard it is to move on from someone." you said as you held his free hand. "this will be the last time, toji." you said.

"what do you mean?" he asked.

"i'm not dying." you said with a laugh. "what i mean is this will be the last time i'll involve her. i finally realized it, toji. that no matter what i do, i still couldn't do anything for you to love me the way i love you." toji was about to say something but you cut him off. "but it's fine! like you said, we're married only in papers. i think i'm getting it now."

he was silent and you felt his touch disappear on your back.

"i just want to sort everything out before i stay in the hospital for 15 days." you mumbled as you sighed deeply. "sooo, friends then?" you said, the same exact words he told you before you two got married by force. but you saying it hit something in him, it made his chest ache.

he felt your hand take his and shake it, as if both of you just had an agreement. you didn't even wait for his reply as you finally sit up from the bed and started packing some clothes you'll be needing and he could only watch.

-

"don't worry, it'll only be 15 days. mr. fushiguro can still visit everyday but only around 10 AM to 5 PM." choso said as he glanced at your way.

"choso, did you know there was a theory that being hospitalized will only worsen your state. what if that happens to me?" you said.

"that's a lie, you're here not to worsen your state but to heal you."

"but what if? you know, everything is unexpected."

"why'd you even ask?"

"i don't know. i guess i'm ready?" you said and choso was looking at you with his judging expression. "just kidding." you said as you laugh.

"think of the people who cares for you. be strong for them because they're waiting for you to come home." choso said and megumi was the only person you could think of.

"my son." you said with a smile.

"yes, megumi's waiting for you so stop with your negative thoughts."

"ok, i will."

-

"mama!" your mood shifted as you heard megumi and he finally entered the room.

he was on his school uniform as he approached you, his upper body leaning on the bed as he tried to reach for you. you leaned close to him as megumi's small hands held you by your cheeks.

"mama, why are you here?" he asked as he frowned.

"mama needs to stay here for now but don't worry."

"why?"

"megumi, don't ask too many questions." toji said.

"it's fine." you said.

toji was watching you and his son interact.

megumi was still mad at him but megumi just didn't show you. toji mentally slapped himself as he recalled the happenings yesterday.

it was megumi frantically looking for you around the house.

-

megumi was running around the house as he call for you.

"where's mama?" he asked toji as he pants.

"she'll be staying at the hospital for now." toji said.

"why? is mama sick?" megumi said as he approached his father who's ignoring his question. "papa!"

"megumi, you won't understand. and yes mama is sick. now stop asking."

"why is mama sick!" megumi yelled, asking questions, eager to know the answers.

"she needs her heart to be healed. there, now go to your room megumi, you have school tomorrow."

"heart?" megumi muttered as he forced himself on his father's sight as toji sighed. "it's all your fault!" megumi yelled and toji ignored him. "you always make mama cry! now her heart is sad because of you! you always get mad at mama when you come home drunk!"

"what did you say?" toji said as he held megumi by his shoulders.

"i hate you! i wish it's you in the hospital not mama!" megumi said before he could even realize his words as toji let go of megumi. toji sat back on the couch and megumi ran out of the living room.

megumi cried to his sleep as he craved for your presence.

-

megumi was laying on top of you as you lull him to sleep.

"say sorry to your papa later, okay?" you said as megumi sniffed before nodding.

toji went to buy foods outside as megumi told you everything he said last night.

"it's not your papa's fault why i am here. remember that."

"mama get home soon, okay?"

"of course." you said as you pinch his nose. "stop crying now."

after some minutes, toji finally came back as you and megumi ate the food he bought.

-

megumi sat at the back seat as he hug his knees.

"i'm sorry, papa." he mumbled. "mama told me what i said is bad. i'm sorry." toji kept quiet as he drives.

he carried megumi who fell asleep at the back seat to his room, giving him a kiss on the forehead before leaving.

toji thought megumi was right, that maybe it was better that it was him in the hospital and not you. he didn't want to lose anyone anymore and toji hoped that he isn't too late.

he was blaming himself.

he already considered himself as a curse, because if he started to love someone, something bad will happen to them. worst is they disappear from his life.

is it a right choice to finally love you?

maybe not.

first week of your stay in hospital wasn't that boring as you thought it would be.

toji would visit you at the starting hours and will bring megumi from school at the last hour, though megumi always sleep on top of you since he wanted to be close to you.

toji would sit there in silence as you hum megumi a lullaby he once heard his son humming while doing his assignments.

toji knew megumi were attached to you but he didn't knew he's that attached to the point that megumi always cry every night, looking for you and will end up sleeping beside toji occupying the space you usually lay at.

"mama, i counted and it's 8." megumi said as he sat on the hospital bed beside you.

"that's right, 7 days more and mama can go home."

"but 7 days is too long." megumi said as he frowned.

"it's not if you stop focusing on it."

"okay, i will not!" you and megumi laughed at the same time and he kneeled towards you as he started wiping your under eyes with his thumb.

"mama, are you sleeping enough?" megumi asked.

"i am. it's just so boring here when i'm alone." you said as megumi embraced you.

"don't worry, mama. i will pray so you can go back home."

"thank you, 'gumi."

"mama." megumi whispered after a minute of silence as you hummed in response.

"papa is not sleeping well." megumi said as he look around as if someone was there to listen but it was just you and him since toji left when someone called him.

"why?" you asked.

"papa misses you, mama."

"he does?" you said as megumi frantically nods.

"he said it to me!" megumi exclaimed excitedly.

-

megumi was sitting on the kitchen stool as he stared at the cereal on the table.

he hates cereal, he loves the food you cook for him but since you weren't around, he needed to eat it for now.

"stop crying megumi. she'll be back soon." toji said as he drink his black coffee.

megumi wiped his tears as he sniffed.

"i miss mama." megumi mumbled followed by another sniff and toji sighed as he sat beside his son.

"i miss mama too but don't worry, okay? let's have faith and be strong for her too."

"okay. but papa if mama is back you better not make her heart sad again." megumi said as he waited for his father's response and minutes passed, he noticed his father was spacing out. "papa?"

"oh?" toji snapped out of his thoughts as he smiled at megumi. "of course."

-

"bye bye mama." megumi said as he look away from you and you knew he was holding his tears back.

"come here." you said as he slowly approached you. "don't cry, you'll be back tomorrow, right?" megumi nods as he wiped his eyes with his sleeves. "bye bye." you said as you kissed his forehead before he went back beside toji as he held toji's hand.

you made an eye contact with toji "see you?" you said and he only nod in response.

why are you expecting something when you and toji already settled everything as friends.

toji looked at you for the last time before he and megumi left the room, leaving you alone again.

what are you even expecting? it's not like he would do something.

you just hope that he did something though. maybe a kiss on your forehead? or just a simple words of affirmation, but nevermind.

you sighed as you hug your knees, you should stop thinking about something that'll hurt your own feelings, you didn't want to worsen your state more, do you?

as if it was a coincidence, choso entered the room with papers in his hand.

"hi." you greeted as choso entered the room.

"how are you feeling?"

"nice, i guess?"

"good job, there's a lot of progress." he said.

"wow really?!" you said excitedly.

"yes, you don't have to stay for another 7 days. did your husband left already?"

"they just left."

"call them back so you could finally go home with them."

-

"mama, do you hate papa?" megumi suddenly asked as he looked up at you, both of you laying on the couch with book in your hand.

"why are you asking that question? of course i don't."

"really? but why do you and papa always fight?"

"we aren't fighting, megumi. that nights you saw him getting mad was because he wasn't in his right mind and he was drunk."

"oh, okay." megumi said as he lay down back on your chest as you started playing with his hair again.

"i love your papa so much, 'gumi. more than i love myself." you whispered as you smile.

-

toji is currently helping you with the laundry since he couldn't force you enough to take a rest.

"take a rest." toji said for the nth time as you wait for the laundry to finish.

"i'll just finish this." you said.

toji sighed, another attempt to force you failed and he could only wait for you.

he was getting impatient as he stand just at the door. he couldn't leave you alone, he's worried something might happen if he lose sight of you.

the same lullaby you're humming for megumi can be heard at the background as he watch you attentively.

but a sudden gasp left your mouth, your humming getting interrupted as you felt him hug you from behind.

"just take a rest." toji said.

"i'm almost finished." you said, an unexplainable feeling stirring in your system. it was as if you're uncomfortable at the physical touch he just initiated.

weren't you craving for his touch? now that he did it, why are you complaining?

"come on. i'll finish that. listen to your doctor, will you?" toji said as he held you by the wrist and pulled you going to the room.

"do you know what you'll do?"

"yeah, i do the laundry before." he said.

"okay, let me know if you're done."

-

you've met toji before, back when you were in middle school. maybe he doesn't remember you but you remember him.

that time when someone was making fun of you, he involved himself and protected you. it wasn't really a fight, it was just him pushing them away that made them run away from the scene.

"thank you." you mumbled and when he looked back at you, you noticed a band aid on the side of his mouth that was already red in color. he only looked at you as he walked away. but before he could get away, you held him by his hand. he made an irritated expression that scared you for a moment as you stutter through your words.

"i have a band aid here." you said as you look at each pocket of your clothes until you found it in your hoodie. toji was watching with an unimpressed look as he stand awkwardly. he hissed in pain when you removed the band aid from his lip and replaced it with a new one.

"there." you said. he didn't even thanked you as he left and when toji saw his reflection on a random store, the design of the band aid was really, embarrassing.. a hello kitty design.

-

you were at the middle of college when your parents told you to stop. they had arranged a marriage for you that you didn't even want. you didn't want to stop college, you wanted to be free but they wouldn't let you. when you met your soon to be husband, you thought he was familiar but couldn't place your finger with. you were sure that you saw this man somewhere, you just couldn't recall where.

the scar on the side of his mouth made you curious as you stare at it and it suddenly made toji self-conscious.

"ah this scar?" he said as your eyes shifted from his scar to his eyes. you were on your first 'date' with toji. the one both of your parents said to get to know each other more.

"i got this from abuse." he said straightforwardly as you laugh nervously.

"um.. did it hurt?" you asked.

"no." he said as he placed his hand near his scar and as if something slapped you mentally, toji's current position reminded you of someone. that kid from the playground, the one who defended you from the bullies, the one that you gave the band aid you just bought because you accidentally scraped your knee, but you gave it to him. toji noticed you genuinely smile at him followed with a wholehearted laugh.

"what's wrong?" he asked and you only shake your head in response.

what a coincidence. who would've thought that the kid you kept on searching for, the reason why you stayed at the playground for who knows how long, hoping to see him again was being married to you? what an unexpected turn of your life.

-

getting to know each other means getting to know everything in your life. personal or not. it was as if that 'date' made your heart full and ended up being broken in the end. toji was the kid you've been looking for, for a long time now but then he suddenly told you that he was already married and they had a son together.

he clarified that he only accepted the marriage because he didn't have a choice. he told you he just didn't want to disobey his parents and megumi just need a presence of a mother.

"being friends will do." he said as you hesitantly nod.

-

you didn't even know why you suddenly remembered the past.

"(name), where did you put-" the words died in toji's throat as he opens the door, only to find you standing at one of his drawers, a folder in your hand as you continue to stare at the paper.

the folder was immediately snatched at your hands as toji placed it back on his drawer.

"that's–" you gasped.

"no, listen–" toji mentally cursed himself. he forgot to throw the divorce papers he requested back when it's the first month of your relationship. he forgot to throw it when he was cleaning his drawers the day you were at the hospital

you looked at him, and he hated that look in your face as another curse left his mind. what should he say? how should he explain it.

"well, if that's what you want."

"no." toji said as he moved close to you but your instinct told you to step back and you did. "that was, that wasn't.." he was stuttering through his words as he heard you sigh.

your heart was aching but you have to ease the pain. you didn't want to go back to the hospital again.

"it's fine, toji. you don't have to explain." you said as you sit at the edge of the bed.

"that was before. first month of us being married." toji explained and the small shift of your mood got unnoticed by him.

"is that so?" you said, looking up at him. "maybe i did something you didn't like to ask for divorce papers, huh." you chuckled as you recalled the first month of your marriage. it was megumi finally addressing you as his mother.

toji admitted that day that he didn't want megumi calling you 'mama' but he didn't want to wipe the genuine smile on his son's face so he just let him call you his mother.

"i'm sorry." he said followed by a strong curse.

"why?"

"fuck, i'm sorry. i didn't- that was before. i don't want a divorce now." toji said and the ache in your chest suddenly disappeared as you gave him a teasing grin.

"why? don't tell me mr. fushiguro is finally starting to love me." you joked and it was clearly just a joke, but the tension suddenly changed. he wasn't laughing at your words but was looking straight in your eyes with something in it.

"i'm just joking.." you said as toji finally looked away from you. he couldn't stop cursing mentally. he was lost in his thoughts and didn't feel you moving close to him and when you were about to place a hand on his shoulder, to simply get his attention, he suddenly held you by the wrist.

"toji, what's wrong?" you asked. he started gripping your wrist tightly and both of you were interrupted by the knock on the door.

"papa! lala wants to talk to you on the telephone!" megumi yelled as you look at the door but when you look back at toji, he suddenly leaned close to you, giving your lips a peck, as if it was to reassure you and suddenly he was at the door.

you were frozen in your spot as you watch him close the door, your hand flying to your lips and caress it and instead of an ache, your heart was beating with happiness.

-

it was one of those nights where toji couldn't sleep again. it happens when something is bugging his mind. he was staring at the ceiling with a deadpanned expression and your shifting caught his attention. both of you were surprised when both met each other's eyes.

it suddenly became awkward.

toji sat up from the bed as he leaned his back on the headboard. you stayed at your position as you stare at the ceiling. there are questions that wanted to be answered, but you think staying quiet would be the best option for now.

toji side glanced your figure, and there were space enough for another person to fit. has it always been like this? now toji is sure that it has been always like this.

toji doesn't know what to do as he continuously stare at you until you finally look at him. (his gaze was burning holes into you.)

there, you sat up from the bed too, doing what he did as you cleared your throat to ease some of the awkwardness that was around.

"can't sleep?" he asked.

"yeah, what about you?"

"can't sleep." you chuckled at his response as you bend your knees close to your chest. why is it starting to get cold?

"about the divorce-"

"i already told you that it was before.. i have no intention in pushing the divorce."

"why?" you asked and toji thinks he doesn't even know why. you were itching to know the reason when toji could've pushed through the divorce long ago.

"why? don't tell me mr. fushiguro is finally starting to love me." you recalled those words you said last morning and to your side, it was clearly just a joke so you removed that as one of the reasons why.

"was it because you found out i was sick?"

"no." he felt embarrassed on how quick he disagreed with your question. "i mean-"

"hm, what could be the reason.." you mumbled as if you're talking to yourself and toji couldn't help but observe you.

"it's best if we sleep for now." toji said as you hummed in response and started tucking yourself at the duvet, facing the wall. you weren't even surprised when you felt him pull you close to his chest. it was as if you're expecting him to do that. and he really did and there, you faced him as you wrapped your arms around his figure with your face hiding on his chest. toji inhaled your shampoo as he sighed in satisfaction.

"will this help you to sleep?" you asked as you look up at him. toji looked down at you with that stupid smirk on his face.

"i could ask you the same question." he said as he chuckled when you went back to hide your face on his chest.

"it will." you whispered but toji surely heared it clearly.

"then that goes the same for me."

-

"mama loves to cuddle." megumi said as he looked at toji's plain expression. megumi copied his father's expression after looking away from him, continuing the assignment he was doing.

"that's all?" toji said as megumi scoffed at him.

"you asked me what mama likes the most!" megumi argued as he fully face his father. "that's the most, mama loves cuddles!"

"okay okay, stop yelling." toji said when he heard your footsteps approaching them.

"good morning, mama!" megumi greeted as he ran towards you to hug you.

"good morning, megumi." you said, looking at toji as you nod at him.

"morning." he said as megumi pulled you on the table at the living room, showing his little drawing to you and toji.

"what's that?" you asked as megumi smiled.

"this is mama," megumi said as he pointed at you. "this is papa and this is 'gumi."

oh. it was a family drawing. your heart started beating through your ears as you look at megumi.

"my teacher said our assignment is to draw a family!" megumi exclaimed excitedly as he faced you and toji.

family? could you even consider yourself as one of their family? megumi could've drawn his real mother, why did he have to-

your thoughts were interrupted when you felt a hand on your back. you looked back and saw toji looking at you, it was different, the way his eyes calmed you. you awkwardly smiled at him as he pulled you close to his side while placing his other hand on megumi's shoulder.

"what's this?" toji asked as he pointed at a drawing which is color white and black.

"it's my dream dog! i want white and black." megumi said. your heart was racing as you feel the warmth of toji's palm on your side.

"why is mama carrying a stick?" toji asked as megumi huffed.

"so she can beat you when you hurt her again." megumi said as you laugh, finally joining in their conversation.

"that's cruel, megumi. i couldn't hurt your papa." you didn't even feel when toji already removed his hand on your side as he watch you and megumi, a smile making its way on his face.

-

"there.." you said as you dropped the pencil at the table.

"wow!" megumi exclaimed as you revealed some changes in his drawing.

"what are you holding, mama?" megumi asked.

"roses, mama loves roses." you said as you pat megumi's head.

"oh okay! then 'gumi loves roses too." megumi said as he grinned at you.

"but there are many types of roses." you said as you fixed megumi's disheveled shirt.

"really? what's your favorite among them, mama? megumi asked.

"the purple one!" you said as megumi nods at you.

"why not red, mama? red is famous one right?"

"yes, but i love purple more. because it means love at first sight." you said as you bump megumi's nose with your pointer finger.

you watch him look to the side as you follow his line of sight. he was looking at his father. you forgot that toji was even there as you look away with embarrassment. clearing his throat, toji stood up from the couch as he brushed his hair with his fingers.

"i'm gonna prepare for work." he said before leaving as megumi watch his father disappeared from his sight.

"mama, is papa your love at first sight?" megumi asked when his father wasn't around anymore. you smiled as you recalled the very first day you laid your eyes on him.

"he is." you said with admiration in your tone. "did you know i met your papa when he was a kid?" you said.

"really? what's he like?!" megumi asked with excitement as he leaned close to you.

"hm, he's still the same.. but he saved me from bullies." you said as megumi kept quiet, wanting to know more. "i scraped my knee but i gave my band aid to him because his lips were bleeding."

"is that why papa have a scar?"

"i guess?" you said as you ruffled megumi's hair. "it's just a secret between us, okay?" you whispered as megumi nods at you.

unbeknownst to you, he heard everything you told megumi as he recalled that day where he first got the scar on his lip, that hello kitty band aid. so it was you, huh.

-

toji left after eating breakfast and it was past lunch when you heard a knock on your front door.

but you weren't expecting visitors, who could it be?

you were surprised when you're met with, no one. but there was a bouquet of purple roses on your doorsteps.

you picked it up as you read the note.

'this is for you, i hope you like it.'

you bit your bottom lip to suppress the smile but it couldn't be helped.

you inhaled the scent of the roses as you finally went inside the house.

-

"thank you for the roses, toji." night finally approached as toji looked up from his laptop and to you.

"what roses?" he asked as you look at him in disbelief.

"that- you, weren't you the one-" toji suddenly laughed as he closed his laptop.

"i'm just kidding." he said as you glared at him.

"not funny!" you said, almost embarrassed when you stammered with your words just a minute ago.

"did you like it?" toji asked as he started preparing the duvet.

as if it was already planned, you move close to him as he finally covered both of your bodies with the duvet. "i love it."

toji's arms automatically made its way to wrap securely around you.

"how's your check up with choso?" toji asked as he switched off the lamp.

"he recommended me another medicine."

"huh? why? i thought you're getting better?" toji asked as you silently laugh at him.

"yes i am, it was just a vitamin, i mean."

"ah, is that so?"

"mhm."

"sleepy already?" toji asked in a teasing tone and you only further hide your face on his chest. "goodnight." he mumbled.

"i love you, toji." you mumbled against his chest. "you can say it back when you're ready." you said as you look up at him and toji lightly smiled at you.

"i'm almost there.." he mumbled.

"i can still wait.." you said as you looked at him with glint in your eyes. toji let you kiss him on the lips before you went back on hiding your face. he chuckled as he pulled you closer with his hand behind your head.

it was a random night, a random song that was being played on the radio can be heard as you sit down on the couch of the living room. the lights were all closed, the street light outside being the only source of light inside your home.

toji wasn't home yet and megumi is already sleeping in his room.

your head almost fell on the couch when the click of the door woke you up.

toji sighed as he closed the door.

"i'm home." he muttered, but didn't expect to see you approaching him in the dark.

"welcome back." you greeted as you took his bag on his hand, guiding him on the living room.

"have you eaten?" you asked.

"ye-"

"let's eat together, i'm hungry!" you exclaimed as you held him by his hand, guiding him to the kitchen. well maybe eating dinner for the second time wouldn't hurt. toji thought.

"megumi?" he asked.

"already sleeping." you replied with an almost sleepy voice as toji sighed.

"you didn't have to wait for me." he said as he stand beside your almost sleeping form. "let's get you to bed." toji said and carried you in a bridal style.

"toji.. let's sleep." you said as he unbuttoned his almost tight polo.

"yeah, i'll just changed my clothes."

"hurryy."

"did you drink?" toji asked as he lied beside you.

"no."

"why are you being clingy?" he asked.

"miss you." you mumbled, wrapping your arms on his figure. "did you miss me?" you asked and toji couldn't help but smell you.

you didn't even smell like alcohol.

"i'm not drunk, i'm just sleepy." you said as if you just read his mind.

"alright."

"you didn't answer me yet."

"i did." he said as you squealed in happiness.

"okay, good night. i love you." you mumbled.

toji gaze softened as he pulled you close to his chest.

"good night." i love you too.

-

it was late at night again and toji was still not home. megumi was sent back home by a school bus last afternoon.

you haven't eaten yet. you were waiting for toji so both of you could eat dinner at the same time again and the door clicked as you stood up from the couch.

"i'm home." toji mumbled.

"welcome back!" you exclaimed.

if yesterday you were sleepy, today you have a lot of energy. you took the bag from toji's hand as you walked ahead, only to be pulled back when toji held your wrist, placing a kiss on your forehead as he loosened his tie.

it sure caught you off guard as toji walked past you as if nothing happened.

"well, have you eaten?" you asked, almost stuttering.

"yes." he responded and you mentally frowned.

"okayy." you said as you help him remove his blazer.

"what about you?" he asked, but before you could answer, your stomach growling did it for you. embarrassing.

"well, i guess eating dinner for the second time wouldn't hurt, right?" he said.

-

"hi, welcome back.." you slowly said as you took toji's bag in your hand.

"i'm home." he muttered, walking past you but suddenly he went back and give your forehead a kiss before removing his watch.

"bad day?" you asked, helping him remove his blazer.

"yeah, i think i couldn't eat dinner with you tonight." he said with a frown.

"it's fine! you go and rest." you said, giving him a smile of reassurance.

toji frowned once again when you made your way to the kitchen. you were humming a song but you were stopped when you saw toji sitting at his usual spot. you blinked twice at him as he sighed.

"well, i got hungry." he said, not looking at your way.

"okay! i'll re-heat some more then." you exclaimed with a smile and toji couldn't help but mirror it.

"thank you for the food."

-

another bad day.

you noticed it the moment toji entered the house with a slumped shoulders.

"welcome back." you greeted, doing the same routine.

"i'm home." he responded, hooking an arm around you before placing a kiss on your.. lips? "what's dinner for today?" he asked as he started unbuttoning his polo. "(name)? what's wrong?" he asked.

"w-well, i made your favorite." you stammered as you made your way infront of him, helping him remove his blazer.

toji made his way first at the kitchen, taking a mug from the cabinet and it caught your attention.

"coffee?" you asked as he nods and suddenly, you placed a hand on his back.

"take a seat. i'll make you one." you said.

"i can do it myself."

"just let me take care of this, okay? you're tired from work." you said, turning on your back to make him a black coffee when you suddenly felt his weight behind you.

"thank you." he mumbled before going back to sit and it made you proud of yourself.

-

"welcom-" you were cut off when toji harshly kissed you, his hand flying at the back of your head as he pushed you, until your body collided with a wall. "toji-" you mumbled through his kisses as you pat his shoulder. "can't breathe!" you said as he finally pulled away, with him leaning his forehead on yours as both of you catch your breaths.

"bad day again?" you asked but he only clicked his tongue, continuing his task on you, the food you made being forgotten as he carried you and made his way on the bedroom, and also not forgetting to lock the door.

-

thank goodness it was saturday today.

your whole body was aching and toji was out of sight as you sat up from the bed.

"mama?" megumi's voice can be heard at the door as he knocked three times before opening, only to see you on the ground. "mama!" megumi exclaimed as he approached you. "papa help!" megumi yelled as he struggled to help you stand up.

"megumi look out for the food in the kitchen." toji said as megumi followed what he was instructed.

"it hurts." you said as toji easily carried you, placing you back on the bed.

"guess i went rough last night." he mocked.

"shut up!"

-

"i'm home." toji said as he entered the house. you smiled as you approached him.

"not a bad day anymore?" you joked as he laughed, hooking a hand around you as he placed a kiss on your lips. you were used to it now.

"yeah." he replied as both of you did the usual routine.

after the dinner, you were quiet. it was unusual for you to be silent.

"toji-"

"what's wrong?" he asked, cutting you off. the night you both shared was 2 weeks ago, you were supposed to have your period 2 days ago but none came.

"i'm late." you said, starting to get stressed. "i'm scared, what if i ended up being pregnant-"

"then that's good. megumi will have a playmate. is it not?"

"but-"

"it's okay." he said, taking your hand on his and you were surprised when he removed the wedding ring on your finger, placing a new one. "wear this from now on." he said, placing a new ring with a rare design on it.

"thank you.. i love it but, why?"

"i want to get married again." he said, looking straight in your eyes.

"but we're already married." you said as you frowned.

"but for real this time." he said with a smile. "you know, before, i wasn't-" he paused, he couldn't say it but you already understood what he was saying.

"i understand." you said as you laughed.

"will you marry me again?" he asked and you couldn't contain the big smile that was on your face.

"i would love too!" you said as you embraced him, with him spinning you around.

"i love you (name).. thank you for staying with me and megumi. thank you for not giving up on us.. on me." he said and you couldn't help but tear up.

finally. it's finally happening.

"i love you too." you responded with a shaky voice as he wiped your tears with his thumb before finally connecting his lips with yours.

it was worth all the wait.