#is it too late to drop out. asking for a friend

[froothytoothy]

Your Idol

Saja Boys x Idol! Reader │ part 3

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summary - you get closer to the saja boys but start to suspect they want to be more than just friends

warning - fem reader, possessive behaviour, sexual tension, swearing, sadistic behaviour

w/c - 7,2K

a/n - ignore how late this chapter is soo much stuff happened, also I love this gif, mystery's just in his own world, pls correct me if there are any mistakes, comments, reblogs and likes are much appreciated, hope you enjoy!

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“Mystery, calm down. You don't want to kill them just yet”.

“But I do, I really fucking do”, he growled, opening his mouth wider to absorb the disgusting soul in front of him. 

They didn't deserve mercy. 

He wanted to kill them and make them suffer the same way they made you suffer.

When Jinu had asked the humans to follow him, he'd lured them into an empty room where the other Saja Boys were waiting. They then began to slowly, painfully, extract the souls from them, one by one. 

None of the boys were doing this out of hunger, in fact, the souls of the balding, old man and porcelain-faced girls were so bitter it felt more like a chore. 

No, they were doing this simply for the fun of it. 

Hearing them beg and scream for mercy sent a chill down each of the boys' spines. They revelled in the pleasure of making them suffer, knowing this was only the start of their misery for everything they'd done against you. 

But unfortunately, Jinu interjected before they went too far. He claimed that they weren't allowed to kill them, yet. If they mysteriously disappeared, where would that lead you? It pained the boys to admit it, but they needed to keep them alive.

Harmoness would surely fail with three out of four members mysteriously disappearing. And your manager disappearing a couple of weeks before the Idol Awards wasn't going to make life any easier for you. Although out of the four, he was definitely the most expendable. 

Also, what if you got framed for being linked to their disappearance? 

They did frequently mistreat you, so your motives were clear, but they knew your kind heart couldn't bear to do anything like that.

“I have a better way of making them suffer”.

This caught his eye. 

Each of the boys turned to look at Jinu, dropping their attention away from the filthy humans in their arms.

Better way of making them suffer? Now that piqued their interest. 

“If you're suggesting violence, I have no issue with that”, Abby flaunts, flexing his muscles off, earning him an eye roll from the others. “But I'm not sure about Baby over here, a gust of wind might send him flying. He's too fragile to hurt anyone”.

The maknae responded with a kick to the back of Abby's leg, almost making his legs give out. He's a lot stronger than Abby thought he'd be. 

“Better than violence”, Jinu smirked, ”A slow and painful way of ruining their lives”. The idea pleased the others, now that was a plan they were up for. 

And so it began. 

During the upcoming weeks till the Idol Awards, rather than fully extracting their souls, they would take small parts of it. Not enough to kill them, but enough that their energy would be so drained it would make them walking corpses.

Jinu had even found some loyal fans from the Underworld to help with taking their souls whilst they were busy preparing for the Idol Awards, for the small price of an autograph and a handshake. He was glad he wouldn't have to taste another second of their bitter souls.

 

Training for the Idol Awards would prove difficult for the other members of Harmoness with the lack of energy they had, and so when they got on stage, it would leave room for (Y/N) to shine like she deserved. 

And once their use had run out, they would kill them. 

The process was a bit tedious, having to make sure the demon fans wouldn't accidentally kill the humans, but they'd do anything for you if it meant seeing your day get just a bit better. 

Their plans with the HUNTR/X had become an inconvenience, for now they only wanted to focus on you. You were the only thing that was important to them. 

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The day you were discharged from the infirmary, you went back to your locker to pick up your phone and the gift you were supposed to give the Saja Boys. You let out a frustrated sigh, wondering how stupid you had to be for forgetting to give it to them. 

They were right in front of you, (Y/N), you could've told them about your gift.

For now, all you could do was hope you'd see them again soon. You'd spent all those hours pulling an all-nighter and even skipping dinner, just for you to forget about the gift. 

Rather than taking it home, you decided to wait a couple of days to see if the Saja Boys would make another appearance in the building. You doubted it, but after your last encounter with them, you were a little more hopeful. 

After being trapped in the dance studio, you made sure to keep a close hold of your phone, making sure something like that would never happen again.

As soon as you entered your small, shabby apartment, you fell back onto the bed in exhaustion. You couldn't believe the day you had. 

From getting locked in a dance studio to being rescued by the Saja Boys. 

It sounded like something from a fairy tale.

But the best part of your day was that note. You dug into your trouser pocket, looking around for the piece of paper you had stored in there. 

When you found it, you looked at it and reread the message, the words floating around your head like a globe. No matter what you did, you just couldn't shake the sentence out of your head.

call me don't text I want to hear your voice

Quickly, you grabbed the pillow from under your head and brought it to your face, letting out a loud squeal. The pillow did little to suppress the volume of your screams, but it's the thought that counts. 

You still couldn't wrap your head around the idea that someone like Baby would write that for you. It completely contradicted the quiet, adorable self he was known for. But you'd be lying if you said that you didn't find it slightly attractive.

Was he serious about wanting you to call? Did he even want you to contact him?

You thought it over, realizing it was stupid thinking like that, why would he give you his number if he didn't want you contacting him? 

Oh my god. 

A sudden realization hits you. 

He wants to talk to you. 

Seconds later, you found the pillow back in your face, and another screeching sound coming from your lips, your feet kicking off the bed in joy. It was crazy even thinking about it, but it was true. Baby wanted to talk to you.

Suddenly, your mind went blank, and you quickly shot out of your bed. You grabbed your phone from your desk and immediately started typing up the numbers on the note.

You had to call him now, or you may never find the courage to do it again. 

Once you finished inserting the numbers, you quickly fixed up your hair on instinct and cleared your throat. It felt like you were about to meet him again for the first time. The way you met Baby and the other Saja Boys was completely out of your control, but this time things were different. Now, you had the choice to talk to him. 

But because you were in control, you started to worry. A brief moment of hesitation hit you, and you felt your heart quickly beating against your chest. You were never very good when it came to phone calls. 

Something about the painstakingly long seconds that it took for someone to answer, or the lack of visuals you had of the other person just frightened you. 

Standing in front of thousands of fans, singing high notes, and performing complex dance moves was fine, no pressure. 

But a phone call with Baby of all people.

You breathed out before you could panic anymore. Without thinking, you shut your eyes and swallowed down your anxiety, before pressing the call button.

Immediate regret started to set in, and you quickly moved your finger towards the red button to hang up, but the screen quickly changed, showing the person on the other end had picked up.

You froze.

You hadn't prepared for what to say. 

For a while the call was filled with the awkward sound of pure silence, so silent you could hear a pin drop. You were silently hoping that you’d dialled the wrong number or that he'd just hang up, thinking it was a prank call.

"You called me like I asked, good girl".

He knew it was you. 

How did he know? 

“I knew you'd call me, doll”.

A soft giggle escaped you, amused at how he seemingly knew your every thought. Already, your nerves were washing away just after hearing him speak. It's as though his voice, or just his presence was enough to make you feel just a bit better. 

You felt the same way with all the boys, each one making you feel so safe. Even though you just met them, you felt that as long as they were around, nothing would happen to you. 

“I didn't call you at a bad time, did I?”

“If you're calling, then no”.

It was hard getting used to Baby's flirty personality, so you were glad that he couldn't see your blushing face through the phone. 

“Have you eaten yet?” he asked, his voice holding traces of concern, most likely because of today's earlier events. You found it sweet how worried he was, and your mind wandered back to when he'd gotten all those snacks for you. He really didn't have to do that, but he did. 

You definitely weren't planning on wasting all that food, so you left some in your locker and took the rest home. There wasn't much food in your apartment, so you were really thankful to Baby. 

He was definitely the ‘actions speak louder than words’ kind of guy. You could tell that he wasn't fond of talking too much, so you could understand why he'd be like that. 

“I just came back home, so not yet”.

“Make sure to eat a lot. Fuck that diet.” His voice held so much malice that you would've assumed he were a victim of it.

“The food you gave me will make sure of that”, you laugh, hearing a small chuckle on the other side of the phone. 

“And make sure to sleep early this time, (Y/N)”.

Before you could respond, you heard a loud scream in the background, and the sounds of feet rushing towards you. You moved the phone away from you to check if it was coming from near you, but it wasn't. 

When you put the phone back to your ear, you could hear your name being called out.

 

“(Y/N), (Y/N) IS THAT YOU?!” 

More shuffling occurred, and you could only assume it was one of the other members of the Saja Boys. They must've heard Baby talking to you and wanted to speak to you too. The thought made your heart beat just a bit faster, it felt really good to be wanted. 

“Baby, how could you call (Y/N) without me?” Now that the voice was closer to you, you knew it was Romance talking. 

His attention turned back to you, his previous frustrated voice switching to a sweet, comforting one, “(Y/N), my princess, how are you? You should add me too, my number is -”

“(Y/N), we’re going to go”, Baby interrupted, seeming frustrated by Romance's presence. You were about to respond till you heard even more arguing, something about not letting Romance speak to you. 

A bunch of shouting and swearing was heard, before eventually the call came to a stop. He'd hung up. 

Oh

It was a chaotic way to end things, but it was so much better than the terrible scenarios you'd made up. You made sure to add Baby to your contacts and send him a quick goodnight message. 

You laid back on the bed, still unsure if all of this was real. You could only imagine what's more to come. 

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Ever since that day, things have gotten stranger than ever. 

Hojin and your group members were constantly out of energy. You mentally prepared yourself before seeing them the day after the Saja Boys came over, but to your surprise, they were just in their own world. Staring off into space, and even bumping into each other.

It was an uncanny resemblance to zombies, which was strange considering how fussy they were with their image. 

Except maybe Hojin. 

During practice, they would hardly put any effort into their dancing and would even forget some of their lines. Your dance instructor didn't usually hold any bias towards any of the members, but due to recent developments, you had become her favourite. 

“Thank you, (Y/N), for still being your usual self. Not sure what's gotten into the others, but I'm glad to see you're still the same”, she praised, although her eyes held some frustration, most likely directed towards your members. 

They were usually so good, so what changed? She thought. 

You gave a small smile and nodded in response, “Maybe they're just a bit stressed about the awards coming up”. Honestly, you highly doubted that, considering they never got stressed about anything, but you hoped your dance instructor would be a bit more understanding.

Even though you knew they'd enjoy talking bad about you if you were in this situation, you didn't care. You wouldn't stoop to their level. 

When you went back to your locker to get changed, you saw the gift bag, tucked away safely at the bottom. You let out a small sigh before picking it up and putting it in your backpack, realizing it had been there too long and it was just taking up space. 

You didn't want to explicitly ask Baby if they could meet up to give him the gifts since you didn't want to intrude on his busy schedule or make him feel pressured to meet with you if he didn't want to. 

As you were walking to the entrance of the building, you could see the people leaving with you taking out umbrellas and zipping up their coats.

You mentally groaned, silently cursing the weatherman for his far-off facts. 

“Clear skies all day”, he said. 

That day you were wearing your favorite oversized sweater with some baggy pants. That was it. No hood, no coat, no umbrella. 

You would've called a taxi if you didn't live so far away from the company building. Since it was in a popular area, the apartments around it were all really expensive. Your only option was to live in a shabby apartment, in a shady neighborhood, an hour away from the company building. 

The last time you got a taxi, due to a similar situation with the snow, it ended with you being forced to live off of stale bread for the next couple of weeks. 

You let out a breath, tightly holding onto your backpack straps, and mentally prepared yourself before entering the storm (literally and figuratively). The bus stop was ten minutes away from the building, so you could only pray the storm would magically clear in the meantime. 

Dance practice had been extended a couple of hours due to the other members, meaning it was very late, and you knew the last bus would be showing up in less than fifteen minutes. You had to take this bus or you wouldn't be getting home tonight, unless you planned on walking a couple of hours in the pouring rain. 

Once you got closer to the exit, you found that you could barely see anything outside. The surroundings were fully grey, covered up by the rain. 

Shit.

You let out a shaky breath before offering a silent prayer to yourself and making a run for it. 

The weight of the raindrops towered over you, and your vision was heavily blocked, leaving you constantly bumping into people.

This was absolute torture. 

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You didn't know how long you were walking for, but you knew you weren't anywhere near the bus stop. 

It shouldn't have taken this long to get there, but when you accidentally slipped on a puddle, much to your embarrassment, your movements ended up slowing down significantly due to both your knees being scratched up. So you had to start limping to the bus stop. 

With every step you took you could feel the water running around your shoe, as though it was trapped there. And your clothes were soaked all the way to your undergarments, making them stick to you uncomfortably. 

Despite all that, you just prayed the gift in your backpack was at least somewhat salvageable. Good thing your backpack was waterproof, so there was some hope. 

The storm hadn't let out like you thought it would, and since you couldn't miss the bus, you just had to keep going. You were freezing cold, and you knew this was going to bite you back once you finally got home. At least you wouldn't have to deal with everyone's strange behavior since you were most likely going to be bedridden for the next couple of days. 

Once you looked up, you could see it. 

The bus stop. 

You beamed in joy, finally something good! 

But to your horror, you could see the bus already there. 

And you were a street away from it. 

Pulling through the pain coming from your legs, you ran as fast as your aching legs could take you. You stumbled a couple of times in the process, your legs feeling like a block of ice. 

When you saw the bus starting to move, you started screaming at it to wait. The volume of the rain overtook yours, leaving the bus to speed off without you. 

All you could do was stand there miserably in the pouring rain. Now there really was no hope of getting home. 

Whilst you were walking back in sorrow, you could see a car fast approach you, and you mentally prepared yourself to get drowned in muddy water, but you soon heard it come to a halt right next to you. 

It should've been slightly reassuring, but it did the opposite. Because of the time, the sky was pitch black, and not a single soul was around because of the rain.

This was the perfect opportunity to kidnap someone. 

You started backing away from the car, preparing to run in case someone tried to snatch you. Even though you knew you wouldn't get very far, it was still worth trying. 

“Love, is that you?” 

You turned your head at the familiar voice and saw Abby looking at you through the open car window. Once you made eye contact with him, he bolted out the car and rushed to your side, scooping you up in his arms and dragging you to the passenger seat of his car. 

It all happened so fast, you barely had time to process it.

Did you just get kidnapped by Abby? 

You turned to look at him and saw him rummaging around, looking for something in a panic. 

“Abby, what-”

“Ah, found it, here”, he exclaimed , pulling out some tissues and wiping you down with them. You were too flustered to speak, so you just sat there frozen in place. His face was inches away from yours as he moved the tissues in random places on your body.

 

Up your arms, across your face, along your thighs. With every little touch, you felt yourself squirming more and more. 

The barrier of the tissue did little to block the feeling of his hands. Despite being freezing cold moments ago, you felt your body warm up rapidly. 

As his hands were trailing across your thighs, almost in a tauntingly seductive way, you couldn't help but notice the bulging veins spread across his hands. Along with that, his fingers were adorned with several rings of different shapes and sizes, in an almost random pattern. The sight let off a desire in you you didn't known you had. 

“You see something you like?” he teased, lifting his head up from your lap to look at you with a smirk. Quickly, you shook your head and looked off to the side, embarrassed at being caught. You could hear the sweet sound of his laughter, and he took his hands off your body, leaving you slightly disappointed. 

“I don't have any towels, so that's the best I can do, but I'll turn on the heating for you”, he says and does just that. As you were about to thank him, he interrupted you, his face expression changing.

“What were you thinking, being out there in this weather? And at this time of night? Something could've happened to you!” Even though you could see how worried he was, it still upset you, seeing him so mad at you. 

You looked down at your lap with guilt and mumbled out an apology, “I needed to get home, and the bus was my only option. Sorry for troubling you...”

There were a couple of moments of silence between the two of you, so you mustered up the courage to look up at him. His eyes had softened , and he was staring down at you. 

“When I saw you out there”, he began, “When I saw you, I was just praying it wasn't you. I'm sorry for getting mad, I just…got so scared”.

Since never seen such a vulnerable side to Abby before, you could tell he was being genuine. You knew his emotions came from a good place. 

Your hand reached his, and you squeezed it lightly as a way of accepting his apology. Perhaps him touching you so intimately boosted your confidence, since you weren't sure where your newfound confidence came from. 

Rather than letting go like you thought he would, he gripped it tighter and put both his and your hand on your thigh, reassuringly. Before you could question it, he started driving again. 

“We shouldn't waste any more time, you're coming home with me”, he said firmly, his left hand on the driver's seat, his right hand laid comfortably on your thigh. 

For a moment, your mind hadn't processed his words, too distracted by the hand on your thigh. 

“Wait, what, your house? But why? You can just drop me off somewhere and I can wait till the storm stops, or just at my apartment”.

Abby gave you a look of disapproval before looking at the road again, “That was the last bus of the day, did you plan to stay out here all night?”

Your silence answered his question, so he continued. 

“You're soaking wet and injured, what kind of monster would I be if I abandoned you like this? I'm taking you to my house to at least dry off”.

Knowing there was no arguing with him, you sat there, a warm smile brushed your cheeks as you thought back to a couple of days ago. 

“Thank you for this, Abby. It's funny, I remember you saving me in the dance studio as well”, you laughed, finding the coincidence both strange and amusing. “You must be sick of saving me by now”.

“Never”.

The squeeze on your thigh brought your attention back to Abby's face, his eyes full of confidence. He was still facing the road, but you knew his words were directed solely at you. “I'll always be there to protect you, I'd never get sick of you”.

You could feel your cheeks warm up, and you couldn't help but feel somewhat special. Somehow, the members of the Saja Boys were slightly protective of you. You didn't know how common that was, but you doubt it was all that normal, so you couldn't help the feeling that you were special. 

And it felt good. 

Being special to someone was being irreplaceable to them. It was a wonderful, safe feeling. Whenever you thought of the boys, you thought of that feeling, so you knew Abby's words were true. You knew he'd always protect you. 

You knew because you could feel it. 

“I never did ask, how did you end up hurting yourself?” Abby asks, breaking the silence. 

“I slipped on a puddle”, you reply casually. 

“Silly girl”.

Despite his teasing words, he rubbed your hand to comfort you. You gave him a small smile and leaned against the window, taking in the peaceful silence between you. 

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“We're almost there”, Abby says, and you wake up from your daydreaming to take a look at your surroundings. You began to gawk at the rows of mansions you passed, realizing you were in a rich neighborhood. A lot of celebrities probably lived around here. 

“Right there is where I live”, he brags, pointing to the mansion you were approaching. It was one of the biggest in the neighbourhood, and was pretty much just like all the others, aside from the abundance of all kinds of flowers and roses. 

“You live there, all by yourself?”. You couldn't believe it, you get that he was famous, but wasn't this a bit excessive? 

“Nah, of course not. I live with the rest of the Saja Boys”, he says casually and drives past the gates and into the parking spot near the entrance. You could see several other parked cars besides the one you were in.

If all the members lived together, then the flowers must've been Romance's doing, you thought, knowing how much he loves flowers. 

You admired how close all the members were, so much that they would live together. It was so sweet, they were all like a family. 

After admiring their lavish cars, you’d come to a quick realization. If the cars are here, than that means that the rest of the Saja Boys are in the house too. 

You mentally groaned. It was already embarrassing Abby seeing you drenched in the rain, but all the members?

The embarrassment was too much to even think about. 

The feeling of a jacket wrapping around your shoulders brought your attention back to the boy next to you. He gave you a comforting smile before opening the door next to him, “Even though the distance isn't far, I don't want you getting any more wet than you already are”. 

You held the jacket closer to you, feeling Abby's warmth spread across you, almost as though it were his arms wrapping around you. Due to his size, the jacket encompassed you in a way that made you feel much smaller compared to his stature. 

The door next to you opened, and you saw Abby holding out a hand for you, the other was above his head, attempting to block some of the rain from coming down on him. You quickly grabbed your backpack and took his hand, ignoring the sparks that came from the contact.

Suddenly, you felt the ground below you move further away. Abby had picked you up with just one arm and rushed towards the front door. 

Once you were both inside, he put you down gently, being mindful of your injury. You could tell he really liked carrying you for some reason. Already, you could feel the warm air of the home enter your body, and you hummed in pleasure, it felt good to be warm again. 

Turning to Abby, you could see him staring at you, his eyes holding a warm look, and you couldn't help but share the same look back. You both stayed like that for a while before being interrupted by a familiar voice. 

“You're back already, Abby. Did you bring any human so-” Jinu quickly paused once he took a look at you, his eyes quickly became panicked when he saw the state you were in. 

“(Y/N), darling, what happened to you?” He rushed towards you, his hands cupping your cheeks and inspecting the rest of your body with a worried expression.

Hearing the commotion, the other members slowly started coming in. Since demons didn't need sleep, they were all awake, waiting for Abby to come back to start planning for the Idol Awards.

They expected only Abby to be at the door, but instead, they also saw you, dressed in damp clothes and standing in a puddle of water. Your hair was sticking to your skin, and despite the situation, they thought you looked ethereal. 

Your face was planted between Jinu’s hands, and you found yourself unconsciously rubbing your cheeks into them, like a cat. Almost purring at how warm his large hands felt. 

Like lying on a hot water bottle, you thought. 

“Darling?” Jinu speaks up, and you look up, seeing him amused by your actions, but still concerned. Each of the boys started surrounding you, bombarding you with questions. 

“Why are you so wet?”

“What happened, angel?”

“Princess, your legs... what happened to them?”

You were so overwhelmed with the questions that you didn't know what to say or who to answer first. Luckily, Abby noticed and stepped in to help. 

“Alright, alright, leave the poor girl alone”, he commands, wrapping his arm around you and pushing the others away, giving you some space. The others glared at him for taking you away from them, but they understood. You looked a lot less stressed once you were away from the crowd. 

“I'll explain everything later, because someone needs to dry off”, Abby says, looking down at you and dragging you towards his room. 

“I can carry you if you want”.

You smile and politely decline, seeing his shirt a bit wet from picking you up. If he got any wetter, he might end up catching a cold. 

Along the way, you could see just how big the mansion was from the inside. The decor was a beautiful mixture of modern Western and traditional Korean interior design. 

It was such a refreshingly unique take that you couldn't help but stare at everything as you passed. Since your eyes went everywhere but the figure holding you, you hadn't noticed the way he stared at you, so fondly and with so much love. 

It hurt Abby so much to see you like that in the rain. He’d noticed you slightly limping and didn't hesitate to carry you to the car. It slightly upset him when you said you didn't want him carrying you to his room. To him, you weighed almost nothing, so why wouldn’t he carry you? 

After a while, Abby came to a stop, and you could see that you were in front of a door. “Welcome to my room”, he announces, before opening it. 

The first thing you noticed was the size of his room, it was probably the size of your entire apartment. And it was a lot cleaner than you thought it'd be, but still had a touch of his unique personality etched into it. 

Some workout equipment in one corner, a PC set up in the other, and a large TV in front of the bed. 

“Alright, love, enough looking, we need you dried off”. Abby starts grabbing some stuff out the cupboard and starts throwing them to you. 

“What's this for?” you questioned, holding up the clothes in front of you to inspect. An oversized sweater and some baggy pants. Although on Abby, it was probably just a regular size. He then threw a pair of clean boxers and a towel your way. 

“Clothes for you, can't have you walking around in wet clothes. It was the smallest I could find, so it might be a bit big on you”, Abby says and walks you towards what you assumed is the bathroom. 

“Whilst you have a shower, I'll take that bag of yours”, he holds out his hand for the bag. You looked down at it, wondering if you should tell him about the contents inside or just leave it. You couldn't possibly hand him and the others a wet gift, even if you did work so hard on it. 

Seeing your unsure expression, he put his hand on your shoulder instead, “What's wrong, love? You don't have to give it to me if you don't wanna. Just wanted to dry it off for you”.

Hearing him concerned for you gave you the confidence you needed to tell him the truth. 

“Before I'd met you, I had gifts for each of you, but the rain might've gotten to it”, you grimaced, looking up at him with guilt. “It's probably all wet, so I'll just take it back, so forg-”.

You were interrupted by Abby suddenly grabbing the bag and taking it from your hands. When you were about to protest, he lightly pushed you into the bathroom and shut the door. 

“Abby, what are you doing?” You tried opening the door, but it wouldn't move. He must've been holding onto it so you wouldn't leave. 

“Love, don't worry, we'll take this off your hands. Just have a shower, don't stress. There's a basket in there for your clothes and some slippers for your feet”. 

Honestly, you were too tired to argue back, so you headed towards the shower, although not without admiring the expensive-looking interior of the bathroom. 

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“Who does he think he is, taking her away from me?” Baby grumbled, mindlessly switching the channels on the TV. 

The other boys surrounding him shared his mindset. They'd hardly gotten the chance to speak with you, and suddenly Abby just steals you away from them. 

It pissed them off to no end. What made him so special? 

Abby came back, his cheeks were slightly red, and in his hands was (Y/N)’s bag. He'd been so pushy with you getting in the shower because he didn't want you seeing how red his face became when you told him about the gift. 

When it came to you, he felt so vulnerable, and something about that vulnerability scared him since he was so used to having this tough exterior everyone wanted him to have. 

The boys on the sofa all jumped up, waiting for (Y/N) to appear behind him. 

“It's just me, sorry about that”, Abby apologizes, rubbing his hand behind his neck. They all plopped back down onto the sofa in disappointment, why did it have to be him and not (Y/N)?

“Abby, what happened to her? How come she's soaking wet and injured?” Jinu interrogates, annoyed that he had to wait so long for an explanation. 

All of the boy's attention was now focused on Abby as he sat down on the floor in front of them. They could see he looked slightly frustrated, his hand brushing through his hair. Honestly, he didn't know where to start. 

“When I was driving, I saw her, and shit, she was drenched and limping. Apparently she had to take the bus to get home, but fell on her way. Damn it, why didn't she call us?”

He felt frustrated, not at you, but at himself. He blamed himself for not coming to you in time, despite there being no way he could've known. Abby didn't want to imagine what would've happened if he hadn't noticed you. 

He'd make sure to never let something like that happen ever again. 

Looking around, he could see the others feeling just as guilty. “Where is she now?” Mystery asked, his head down in worry. 

“In the shower”. Abby looked towards the direction of his room, wondering if you'd be alright on your own. 

“And why have you got her bag with you?” Romance questions, drawing everyone’s attention to it. 

Abby opened the bag and started taking the gift bag out, explaining how you made it for them. Luckily for you, only some of the gifts had gotten wet as one of the zips hadn't been fully closed.

Jinu sat on the floor with Abby to inspect the gifts. He read the labels planted on each gift and started handing them out to each of the members. 

The room went silent as they admired their gifts, carefully taking in the thought you put into them. Only did they finally look up once they heard the sounds of soft padding across the ground. 

The boys turned towards the door and saw you standing there, panting slightly and holding the wall for support. The pain in your knees had increased with the amount you had been standing, so walking had become a struggle. 

When you finished with the shower, you couldn't find Abby, so you figured you'd look for him and the others. Once their eyes landed on you, they couldn't help but coo at the sight of you drowning in Abby's clothes. 

The sleeves of the sweater he gave you had moved past your fingertips and had trailed all the way down to your knees. The pants had also reached down to your feet, covering them completely. You looked so small with those clothes, and a wave of protectiveness washed over them. The feeling of needing to keep you safe from the world hit them hard. 

Mystery got up from his place on the sofa and moved towards you quickly. You started to panic slightly, confused as to why he was moving so fast. Carefully, he grabbed you in his arms and brought you towards the sofa. He ended up on the floor with Jinu and Abby, leaving you sitting between Baby and Romance. 

You hadn't expected Mystery to be strong enough to even do that, so it definitely took you by surprise. Although considering they were all demons, they could carry you, easily. 

“Thank you..”, you mumble, a bit shy from the way the boys were staring at you. When you started to look around, you could see each of the boys holding the gifts you made for them and you let out a gasp. 

“Those gifts”.

“You got these for us?” asks Baby, still slightly taken aback at your thoughtfulness. 

You gave a shy nod, embarrassed that they were seeing the old gifts. It felt fine before, but after becoming friends with the Saja Boys, it felt a bit out of place, but still, you hoped they liked it. 

“You don't have to take them, I know they aren't very good and some things might've gotten a bit wet. I was going to give them to you ages ago but..” You stopped once you saw them lost in thought, staring solemnly at the gifts. 

Jinu was holding the cat plushie you had handmade for him. You got the idea from looking at clips of him randomly petting strays he found on the street. Since you wanted to make it more special, you thought it'd be better to just make it for him. Even though some water ended up getting to it, he still held it in his arms warmly. 

For Abby, you knew he liked working out, but it was a bit of an unknown fact that he secretly had a big sweet tooth. So the night before the tour you baked him some cookies, but by now it was definitely a bit stale. You were glad the container they were held in protected the cookies from any rain though. 

Mystery hardly spoke during interviews or fan sign events, but you knew exactly what to get him. You knew that Mystery enjoyed wearing all kinds of jewelry, specifically earrings, so you went out and bought a pair for him. Along with that, you made him a handmade bracelet with some beads and charms. 

It was a known fact that Baby loved spicy food, evident from his time on Play Games With Us. So you bought him his favourite spicy crisps, some Buldak noodles, and even some hot sauce. Although you didn't want to get him just that, so you made him a beaded phone charm, using the same beads you used for Mystery’s bracelet. 

Romance loved roses, something he'd often say in his interviews. For a while, you were considering buying him real roses, despite knowing your wallet couldn't handle it. But after some consideration you thought, why not just make them? It'd make it more special too. Out of all the gifts his took the longest to craft, especially as it had been your first time with origami. Since, you wanted it to be perfect it took a lot of trial and error. 

You almost cried once you saw the state of the flowers. Because of the rain, the paper roses you crafted were slowly crumbling apart, and one of the flowers had even come off its stem. But still, he held it in his hands tightly, afraid of losing something that he knew took you so long to make. He just couldn't believe you'd spend so long on something like this, despite never even meeting him. 

You were pretty upset about Romance and Jinu’s gifts that you started to profusely apologize. “You really don't have to take them, it's all wet, you can just throw them in the bin”.

A warm laughter coming from Romance interrupted your rambling, and everyone turned their attention to him. You sat there confused.

Did you say something funny? 

It wasn't until he placed the flowers on the floor and got up did you say something. Even the others didn't know what was going on. 

“Romance, I-”, you were interrupted when Romance bent down to your level, grabbed your chin, and brought your lips together. Your eyes widened, and your body froze in place. The contact between you two had completely silenced you. 

Romance adamantly released the kiss once he felt no air coming from you. It amused him, seeing you so taken aback that you’d forgotten to breathe, “wake up, princess. Don't want you dying on me”, he chuckled and started walking away, leaving you staring into space in shock. 

Did that just happen? 

“What the fuck, Romance?” Abby shouts, getting up from his spot on the ground. The rest of the boys did the same, all shouting at him from the living room, but your mind had tuned out the sounds.

The feeling of his chapped lips, delicately pressed against yours. The feeling of his warm breath fanning across your lips. The way he pulled you in, trapping you in a momentary ecstasy. 

It felt heavenly. 

Still, you couldn't believe it was real. 

Was this real? 

Jinu was about to go after him, but Romance quickly returned holding a hair dryer and a med kit for you. “I had to thank our dear (Y/N) somehow”, he taunts, which is met with more angry protests from the others. 

“Oh, come on, guys, you're just jealous I did it first”. That brought you back, why would they be jealous? 

You turned to look at the members and saw their heads facing down. Silence filled the room until Baby went up to Romance and yanked the hair dryer out of his hands. 

“Let's just do this”, he grumbled and moved towards you, the others sitting back down.

You sat there confused, why didn't anyone say no? 

Were they too embarrassed, or was it that they really did want to kiss you? 

────────────────────────────

a/n - i must've been ovulating whilst writing that car scene cus woah, it wont let me add more ppl to the tag list so i'm gonna try and put it in the comments hopefully that works

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[si3rren]

One More Step

enhypen masterlist

my wattpad story - ༒︎ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄 - 𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 ༒︎

rival!nishimura riki (ni-ki) x fem reader | rivals to lovers | slow burn | fluff & light smut | performing arts college au

warning: fluff, tension, fondling, groping, grinding, humping, makeouts, soft hair pulling, praise, emotionally earned romance

wc: 6k

summary: You and Nishimura Riki were never friends—just rivals in every sense. Both talented, both stubborn, both constantly trying to outdo each other. But somewhere between the fights, tension, and late-night rehearsals, the rivalry starts to blur… and something softer, deeper begins to take its place.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

You weren’t used to sharing a spotlight.

Not in this building. Not in this studio. And definitely not in front of him.

“Again,” your instructor barked, clapping twice as you reset your position.

Sweat beaded at your temples as you inhaled deeply, muscles tightening with perfect control. You felt every eye in the studio focused on you. But one pair in particular made your blood itch.

Nishimura Riki stood across from you, jaw flexing, arms loose at his sides. He tilted his head just slightly—just enough to make it clear he wasn’t intimidated. Not by you. Not by anyone.

He winked.

You nearly dropped your pose.

⸻

You’d met him three months ago, when he walked into your advanced performance theory class like he already knew the answers to everything. Fresh transfer. Former competition winner. “The prodigy,” some called him.

You called him an arrogant show-off.

And the worst part?

He was good. Not just technically—but annoyingly, effortlessly good. Powerful movements, reckless confidence, all sharp edges and raw flair. You were discipline. He was chaos.

So naturally, they paired you together.

“You need balance,” your instructor said, oblivious. “Grace meets grit.”

You wanted to scream.

⸻

“You’re late,” you snapped the first time he entered your shared practice room, twirling your water bottle without looking at him.

“You’re early,” he replied, plopping his bag down with a heavy thud. “Or just obsessed with being the first one here.”

You turned. “Maybe I care about not wasting people’s time.”

He grinned. “Or maybe you’re just scared I’ll outshine you if I get more practice in.”

You dropped your bag louder than you needed to.

From that moment on, it was war.

⸻

“You’re not hitting the turn sharp enough,” you told him during your first duet run-through. “It makes my landing look off.”

He scoffed. “Maybe your landing is off.”

“Oh please,” you hissed. “You come in half a beat early every time.”

“That’s because your timing is slow.”

“I’m following the count—”

“Then the count’s wrong.”

You glared at him.

He raised an eyebrow.

God, he was so smug.

⸻

Somehow, that tension carried through every rehearsal.

You fought over music cues. You snapped over spacing. He mimicked you behind your back once and you nearly launched a water bottle at his head. Sunoo had to physically drag you out of the practice room while Jake cackled and Riki pretended to stretch.

“You two are like magnets,” Sunoo groaned. “Violent, sweaty magnets.”

“I’ll kill him,” you swore.

“And then kiss him,” Yunjin teased.

You choked on your Gatorade.

⸻

But that night—alone in the studio after hours—you stayed late. Again.

The lights were dim. Your bare feet whispered against the floor as you repeated the final sequence of the duet. The music echoed faintly off the walls. You hit every beat. Nailed every turn.

And then—

Clap.

You whipped around.

He stood there, sweat-damp curls falling into his eyes, hoodie slung loose over his frame. Watching you.

Slow clap. Sarcastic. But something in his expression wasn’t mocking.

“…You stayed late too?” you asked, annoyed at how breathless your voice sounded.

He leaned against the doorframe. “Didn’t want to fall behind.”

You blinked. “Scared?”

“No.” He pushed off the wall. “Curious.”

He walked toward you—slow, casual, deliberate.

Your pulse jumped. Your muscles tensed—not from fear, but something else.

“I watched your solo finals last semester,” he said. “Before I transferred.”

“…So?”

“You’re better than I expected.”

A pause.

“That supposed to be a compliment?”

“No.” A smirk tugged at his lips. “It’s supposed to piss you off.”

You stared at him. Hard.

And he didn’t look away.

Not once.

____________

The final list was taped to the callboard.

Your name was at the top. No surprise.

But just below it—right underneath the bold Lead Duet Placement heading—was his.

Nishimura Riki.

You stared. Blinked. Stared again.

“No,” you muttered. “No no no no—”

“Heard you missed me,” a voice chirped behind you.

You turned on your heel fast enough to break your neck.

Riki leaned casually against the wall, sipping from a convenience store banana milk, eyes skimming the cast list like he hadn’t already memorized it.

“Get away from me,” you hissed.

“Can’t,” he grinned. “We’re partners. Again.”

⸻

“Pairing you both is strategic,” Heeseung said during choreography briefing that afternoon. “It creates tension. Visual story. Push and pull.”

“We already do tension,” you snapped. “Very well. From opposite ends of the room.”

Heeseung raised a brow. “Now try doing it in contact.”

Your eyes slid toward Riki, who was spinning a pen in his fingers like he hadn’t just ruined your entire month. He met your gaze. Winked. Again.

You wanted to throw the table.

⸻

Rehearsals were a nightmare.

Your usual practice studio was narrow, lit by high windows and lined with mirrors. No matter where you turned, you saw him. Breathing too close. Smirking too much.

The choreo was intimate. Heeseung loved dramatics—close lifts, waist grabs, forehead-to-forehead tension. There was a moment where Riki had to grip your thigh and dip you. Another where your hand had to cup his face. You were livid.

“Can we change that part?” you asked.

Heeseung didn’t even look up. “No.”

⸻

“I’m not trying to grope you,” Riki said later, after a stumble in the lift. “You keep shifting your weight wrong.”

“I know my body,” you snapped, pushing sweat-slick hair off your face.

“Then use it better.”

You shoved him. Hard.

He caught his balance with a little laugh, grinning like this was all one big joke.

“You like touching me too much,” you bit.

“You wish.”

You nearly screamed.

⸻

But that night, something shifted.

You stayed late. Again.

Not because of him. Definitely not because of him.

But he showed up anyway. Hoodie hanging off one shoulder. Wireless earbuds in. Quiet, but not avoiding you either. For once.

He moved with fluid ease, barely glancing at the mirrors. His routine was different from yours—more freestyle, less clean. But his movements had heat, a kind of practiced recklessness you could never fake.

You hated watching him.

But you couldn’t stop.

⸻

“You stare a lot,” he said without turning, halfway through a spin.

You jumped. “I don’t.”

“You do.”

“Maybe I’m just checking for mistakes.”

“Maybe you’re obsessed.”

You stormed over. “Excuse me?”

Riki stepped closer, sweat glistening at his collarbone, jaw ticking slightly as he looked at you.

“You think I don’t see it?” he murmured. “You watch everything I do. You listen to my steps. You breathe when I breathe.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

Silence.

You clenched your fists. “You think this is funny?”

“I think it’s interesting.” He tilted his head. “How much you care.”

You shoved past him—but he caught your wrist, just barely, fingers curling loose around your pulse.

You froze.

So did he.

“…Don’t touch me,” you whispered, though it didn’t come out nearly as strong as you meant it to.

He let go. Instantly. Too fast.

And for the first time, Riki didn’t smirk.

⸻

You left first.

Didn’t look back. Not even when you heard the music cut mid-track, followed by his quiet footsteps trailing behind you in the hallway.

You told yourself it meant nothing.

You told yourself he annoyed you.

But something in the way he touched you stuck.

Not filthy. Not flirty. Just… aware. Like he knew your body the way you knew your own.

And that was the real problem.

___________

The next week passed in choreography and chaos.

You barely spoke unless it was necessary. Every instruction from Heeseung was filtered through clenched jaws and sideways glances. Every move practiced was a tug-of-war between your precision and his unpredictability.

And yet, somehow… it started working.

You weren’t sure when it happened.

Maybe it was the fifth time he caught you mid-stumble without comment.

Maybe it was the moment your fingers brushed during that tricky grip-and-twist turn—and instead of pulling back, he held on.

Maybe it was the music.

Or maybe, it was the fact that when Riki looked at you now, it wasn’t just challenge in his eyes.

It was recognition.

⸻

“Again,” Heeseung called.

You both reset. The sequence started, clean and quick, breath synced to beat. Your body twisted into the lift, foot bracing on his thigh, hand gripping his shoulder.

You locked eyes.

He didn’t smirk this time.

He just looked at you. Like you were something to be figured out, not beaten.

When the dip ended, your hand was still on his neck.

And his fingers… lingered too long at your waist.

You were both breathing hard, close enough to feel the heat off each other’s skin.

Heeseung clapped. “Better.”

You stepped back.

You didn’t meet Riki’s eyes. You weren’t sure why.

⸻

Later that night, the studio was quiet.

You stayed late again, because of course you did. Your solo needed work, and the mirrored room was the only place that felt honest. You moved through your routine in silence, not noticing the door open behind you.

“Your turns are tighter when you spot to the right,” Riki said casually, leaning against the wall.

You startled. “What the hell—”

“Relax.” He lifted his hands. “Not here to fight.”

You stared. “Then why are you here?”

He shrugged. “Watching.”

You rolled your eyes, wiping your face with a towel. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“No,” he said simply. “You’re kind of interesting.”

You froze mid-wipe.

“…What?”

“I said you’re interesting.” He tilted his head. “You don’t just dance to win. You dance to feel something.”

“…That supposed to be an insult?”

He chuckled. “No. It’s what makes you better than most people here.”

You blinked.

Riki walked forward, slow and loose, like he wasn’t aware how close he was getting.

“But you get so stuck in your own head,” he added, voice lower now. “All that pressure? That perfect image crap? You hate when things get messy.”

You swallowed.

He stood directly in front of you now. Not touching. Not teasing. Just… there.

“I am messy,” he said, voice quiet. “Maybe that’s why I get under your skin.”

You stared at him.

And then, to your own shock, you laughed.

It burst out of you unexpectedly, sharp and breathless.

He blinked. “What?”

You shook your head, pressing your hand to your face. “God. You’re such an ass.”

His lips curled. “You’re laughing, though.”

You bit your cheek, trying not to smile. “Shut up.”

He tilted his head. “Admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“That you’re starting to like me.”

You rolled your eyes—but this time, it didn’t sting.

It sparked.

⸻

The next few practices were different.

There was less snapping. Less bitterness.

Still tension, yes—but something else underneath it now.

During one break, he offered you a sip of his drink.

You refused.

He passed it to you anyway.

⸻

During the routine reset, your hand slipped from his grip.

He caught it before it hit the floor.

Didn’t say a word.

Just squeezed, gently, like muscle memory.

⸻

And one afternoon, when you both fumbled a run-through and collapsed on the floor laughing—real, breathless laughter—you saw it.

That crinkle near his eyes when he smiled for real. Not smug, not sarcastic.

Just… honest.

He looked like a boy then.

Not a rival. Not a threat.

Just Riki.

And for the first time, you didn’t want to run away from that.

_________

The thing about chemistry was: you never noticed it until it started catching fire.

And lately, it was everywhere.

In the way he stood a little closer when you spoke. In the way your fingers brushed his neck while adjusting positions. In the way neither of you looked away anymore—like you were daring the other to blink first.

You hated how aware you were of him now.

You hated how your pulse jumped whenever his hand touched the small of your back—always for choreography, always justified, but never neutral.

He was getting under your skin again.

But now, it wasn’t just anger.

It was heat.

⸻

“From the top,” Heeseung called.

You moved into position, muscle memory snapping into place. The music was fast, technical, precise—just the way you liked it. Every motion sharp, rehearsed, known.

Until it wasn’t.

You leapt into the spin, trusting his hands to catch you mid-air like always.

But your heel caught on sweat.

Your foot slipped.

You hit something solid.

And then—floor.

With him.

⸻

You landed tangled—your thigh over his hip, palm against his chest, bodies fused by momentum and shock.

A beat of silence.

Then another.

Then—

“Don’t,” you warned.

“I didn’t say anything,” Riki said, voice muffled under you.

“You’re thinking something.”

“I always am.”

You raised your head to glare at him—only to realize how close your faces were. His breath fanned across your cheek. His hand had instinctively gripped your waist during the fall, and he hadn’t let go.

Your gaze dropped.

He followed.

And suddenly, neither of you moved.

The music still played faintly from the speakers, but everything felt quiet. Like it had narrowed to just this—your weight on top of him, the way his lips parted slightly, the way his fingers pressed into your side like he couldn’t decide whether to push you off or pull you closer.

You didn’t breathe.

Neither did he.

Your heart pounded loud enough to feel in your ears.

His eyes dropped to your lips.

And just like that—you forgot everything.

Why you hated him.

Why you ever pretended to.

⸻

Then—

Bang!

The studio door swung open.

Sunoo.

“Hey, are you—” He stopped. Blinking. “What the hell?”

You rolled off Riki like the floor was lava.

“We fell,” you said, too fast.

“Right,” Sunoo deadpanned. “You fell. Directly onto his face. Totally normal.”

“We were rehearsing,” Riki muttered as he sat up.

“Sure you were,” Sunoo replied. “Should I leave again so you can keep rehearsing?”

You groaned. “Oh my god, shut up.”

Sunoo grinned and flopped on the bench. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. Except maybe Jake. And Yunjin. And the entire campus.”

You launched a water bottle at his head.

⸻

The rest of practice was a blur.

You couldn’t stop thinking about it—the way Riki looked at you, the heat in his hand, the way you almost leaned in.

You hated how part of you wanted to kiss him.

Worse—you hated how it still lingered.

That burned edge. That breathless pause.

That almost.

⸻

Later that night, you stayed back.

So did he.

You didn’t speak much. Just shared the space in silence, stretching at opposite ends of the room.

But once—just once—you caught him watching you again in the mirror.

This time, he didn’t look away.

And this time…

You didn’t either.

___________

Everything boiled over on a Wednesday.

It was raining outside. The sky was dull and grey, the kind that soaked the concrete in a way that felt personal. You were late to practice. You were wet. You were pissed.

And Riki was already in the room, hoodie half-zipped, spinning lazily on the studio floor.

“Cute,” he said when he saw you. “You melt in the rain?”

You dropped your soaked jacket on the bench and kicked off your sneakers without a word.

“What, no snark today?” he teased. “You’re off-brand.”

You said nothing.

Riki sat up straighter, sensing the shift. “Hey. You okay?”

You turned slowly.

“I swear to god,” you snapped, “if you say one more thing that isn’t choreography-related, I will knee you in the jaw.”

A pause.

Then, that insufferable grin.

“Is this foreplay?”

You exploded.

⸻

The fight was fast and loud.

Not fists. Not even yelling. Just words—cutting, sharp, brutal.

“You think you’re so untouchable just because you’re the new favorite?”

“At least I’m not faking it every time I perform.”

“You couldn’t follow a count if it slapped you in the face.”

“And you couldn’t improvise if your life depended on it.”

“You’re not better than me.”

“I never said I was.”

“But you think it.”

He didn’t deny it.

And that pissed you off more than anything.

⸻

“You think this is just a game,” you hissed, stepping toward him. “Like you’re here to toy with me. Undermine me.”

“I think you hate that I don’t need you to be good,” he shot back. “And that scares you.”

You shoved him. Hard.

He caught his balance, eyes blazing.

Then he grabbed your wrist.

You froze.

Your breath caught.

And his mouth was on yours.

⸻

The kiss wasn’t gentle.

It wasn’t sweet.

It was wild.

All teeth and tongue and heat, like two storms finally slamming into each other. You didn’t even think—just reacted, your hands flying to his shoulders, digging in, pulling him closer.

He groaned against your mouth, deep and low, gripping your waist like he was anchoring himself.

Your backs hit the mirror. You gasped.

He kissed you harder.

Your fingers tangled in his damp hair, tugging on instinct, and he growled—yes, growled—and bit your bottom lip, then kissed it better with an open-mouthed moan.

It was filthy. Uncoordinated. Sloppy. Perfect.

You’d never felt this kind of electricity in your life.

You didn’t even realize your legs had wrapped around his hips until he rolled his body against yours, pinning you gently, hands splayed on your thighs, grinding like he couldn’t help it.

You whimpered. Quiet. Shameful.

He pulled back just enough to murmur, “Say something.”

You blinked up at him, lips swollen, chest heaving.

“I hate you,” you whispered.

He smiled. “No, you don’t.”

And he kissed you again.

⸻

Ten minutes later, you were sitting on the floor, sweat cooling against your skin, knees touching.

Neither of you spoke.

Not out of awkwardness.

Out of awe.

What just happened?

What line had you crossed?

You reached for your water bottle.

So did he.

Your hands touched.

Neither of you moved.

“…So,” he said finally, voice still hoarse. “Are we gonna talk about that?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

Beat.

“But also,” you added, “you kiss like an asshole.”

He laughed.

You didn’t.

Because you were too busy replaying the sound he made when you pulled his hair.

And how it made you feel when he moaned your name into your mouth like a secret.

__________

You didn’t talk about the kiss.

Not the next morning. Not during warm-ups. Not when Sunoo raised an eyebrow at the weird static between you and Riki during stretches and mouthed “What did I miss?”

You just… didn’t.

And he didn’t push.

Which was, somehow, even worse.

Because Riki was quiet now. Not smug, not cocky—just watchful. Soft. And you didn’t know how to handle that. He still met your eyes when you danced together. Still touched your waist when needed. But every move was measured. Gentle.

You started missing the bite in his voice.

The tension.

Until it wasn’t missing anymore.

Until it turned into something warmer.

⸻

You were alone in the studio again.

Of course.

The air was heavy with leftover humidity, fogging the mirrors, sticking to your skin. You’d both stayed late after the group rehearsal—no spoken plan. Just two bodies too stubborn to leave first.

You paced by the mirror. Riki sat on the floor, back against the wall, sweat clinging to his neck.

“You’re gonna overwork your knees,” he said, watching you without moving.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re fidgeting.”

“No, I’m—” You paused. Sighed. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Me neither.”

⸻

You sat down beside him, your knees brushing.

He looked at you.

Not with tension.

With something close to… patience.

You stared at your fingers, picking at your cuticles.

“About the kiss,” you murmured. “Was that just—because we were angry? Or…?”

He didn’t answer right away.

When he did, his voice was low.

“I don’t kiss people I don’t want.”

You looked up.

And he was already looking at you.

⸻

You shifted your legs slowly over his lap. Tentative. Testing.

He let you.

Your knees on either side of his hips. Your palms flat on his chest.

“You’re such a cocky little shit,” you whispered, like muscle memory.

And he grinned.

But only for a second.

Then his hands found your hips.

And everything went quiet again.

⸻

You kissed him slower this time.

Soft lips. Gentle pull. Mouths opening only when they needed to.

It was tender. And worse—real.

His hands moved up your spine, under your damp shirt. He didn’t rush. He just touched, exploring the curve of your back, the tension in your shoulders. One palm cradled your waist. The other pressed to your upper back.

You gasped into his mouth when his thumb grazed under your bra strap.

“Okay?” he whispered.

You nodded. Breath shaky. Hands bunching in the front of his shirt.

He kissed the corner of your mouth. Then your jaw. Then, slowly, your neck.

Your body shivered.

“Still okay?” he asked again, quieter.

“…Yes.”

You felt his smile against your skin.

⸻

Then came the fondling.

His palms were hot. Slow. They moved over your chest—over your shirt first, like he was memorizing shape and sound before daring more. He cupped you gently, thumb grazing side to side while his mouth pressed kisses along your collarbone.

You exhaled a shaky whimper, thighs tightening around his hips.

Riki cursed softly. “You can’t make noises like that.”

“Then stop touching me like—like that,” you whispered.

“You climbed into my lap, remember?”

“Shut up.”

He laughed, low in his throat, then kissed you again—open-mouthed and messy now, tongue sliding against yours while his hands moved lower, gripping your thighs and pulling you forward until your core pressed flush to his.

You gasped.

His breath stuttered.

Your hips rolled. Just once.

But it was enough to make him groan.

“Do it again,” he whispered against your lips.

You didn’t think—you moved.

Grinding slow. Once. Twice.

Heat bloomed between you. You felt him harden, even through layers of clothing, and something inside you snapped. Your hips moved again, chasing friction, chasing him, chasing the thing you weren’t allowed to name yet.

He tugged your hair softly, tilting your head back to kiss you harder. Deeper.

The kind of kiss that made your stomach flip and your toes curl and your mind go fuzzy.

And then he broke away. Barely.

Forehead against yours.

Both of you panting.

⸻

“You feel that?” he murmured, one hand resting low on your back. “That’s real. Not rivalry. Not rehearsal. This.”

You nodded slowly.

Your fingers were still clutched in the front of his shirt like you didn’t want to let go.

Maybe you didn’t.

Maybe you didn’t have to.

⸻

You stayed like that for a long time.

No more grinding. No more words.

Just silence and skin and breath.

His fingers traced soft patterns under your shirt while your cheek rested on his shoulder.

Not claiming.

Not rushing.

Just being.

_________________

The next time you saw him, he wasn’t Riki the rival.

He wasn’t the boy who mocked your turns or rolled his eyes when you corrected spacing.

He was just Riki.

Sitting cross-legged on the practice room floor, headphones in, hoodie sleeves pushed past his elbows. A can of peach tea rested beside his ankle. He looked up when you walked in.

Didn’t say anything.

Just smiled.

And it felt like the first time you really saw him.

⸻

Practice that day was unusually quiet.

You moved together without the tension. The fight was gone. In its place: fluidity. Familiarity.

Every grip, every lift, every lean-in… worked.

Not because you were trying to prove something—

—but because you finally weren’t.

Heeseung watched the run-through twice. Then, after a long pause, muttered, “Holy shit.”

You both laughed.

Real laughter. Not the mocking kind.

The room felt lighter than it had in weeks.

⸻

After rehearsal, you stayed again.

But this time, you didn’t pretend to be working.

You sat side by side on the floor, backs against the mirrored wall, limbs loosely tangled. Your head rested on his shoulder. One of his hands idly played with your fingers in his lap. You didn’t stop him.

And he didn’t try to kiss you.

Not yet.

Not again.

Just… held you.

Like the way someone might hold a memory they weren’t ready to let go of.

⸻

“I think I’m scared,” you said finally.

His hand stilled on yours.

You kept staring at your knees.

“I’m not used to this,” you murmured. “Liking someone who likes me back.”

A beat of silence.

Then—

“Hey,” he said softly. “Look at me.”

You turned.

And he was already watching you.

His voice was low. Steady.

“I’m not gonna disappear on you.”

You swallowed. “But we hated each other.”

“No.” He smiled a little. “You hated me. I just liked pissing you off.”

You scoffed, but your smile cracked through. “You were awful.”

“I was flirting.”

“You shoved me into a trash can.”

He grinned. “It was a love shove.”

You laughed, loud and surprised—and then gasped when he suddenly pulled you in by the waist.

You landed in his lap with a squeak.

“Careful,” he said, smirking. “If you touch me again, I might fall.”

You blinked.

His smile faded. Just a little.

“…For real,” he added, quieter this time. “I might fall.”

Your breath caught.

And then—without thinking—you leaned in and kissed him.

Not messy.

Not wild.

Just soft.

Your lips brushed his like a question. He answered it by cupping the back of your neck, keeping it slow, tender, present. You kissed him once. Twice. Then let your forehead drop to his.

“…Me too,” you whispered. “I might fall.”

He exhaled like he’d been holding that breath for days.

⸻

Eventually, he pulled his hoodie off and offered it to you.

You curled into his chest like it was the easiest thing in the world.

And when you fell asleep—head tucked under his chin, hand curled in his shirt, breath steady—he didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Just held you.

Like he meant it.

__________________

Things changed after that night.

But not in the way you expected.

No drama. No awkwardness. No avoiding each other in the hallways.

You still bickered in class. You still competed onstage. But now there was a thread running through it all—something warm, something hidden.

Like a secret under your skin.

Like a song only the two of you knew.

⸻

When you bumped shoulders in the hallway, he smirked.

When you rolled your eyes, he’d tug your bag strap just to make you stumble.

When you practiced, you stopped noticing where his hands ended and yours began.

You still fought.

But it wasn’t rivalry anymore.

It was rhythm.

⸻

Jake noticed first.

“Are you guys, like…” he waved a vague hand between you, “…doing things?”

“No,” Riki said.

“Not really,” you said.

Sunoo narrowed his eyes. “Okay. Then why did I see her wearing your hoodie yesterday?”

You and Riki blinked.

Looked at each other.

Grinned.

“Shared custody,” he said.

“Compromise,” you added.

Jake groaned. Sunoo screamed into his hands.

⸻

It was Thursday when it happened again.

The studio was empty. Everyone else had left. Heeseung had warned you both to rest your knees, then made a dramatic exit about “the fragility of youth.”

You were already stretching in front of the mirror when Riki returned from changing—shirt fresh, damp hair hanging over his forehead, eyes slightly glazed from exhaustion.

You looked at him.

He looked at you.

That was all it took.

⸻

You were on his lap before either of you said a word.

His back hit the mirror. Your legs wrapped around his hips. Your mouth found his and devoured.

It wasn’t slow this time.

It was needy.

His hands were everywhere. Sliding under your shirt, over your waist, up your ribs. Palms wide, rough and warm. You arched into him, moaning softly against his mouth as his thumb grazed the underside of your breast.

⸻

Your hips began to move.

Grinding in long, slow rolls against his lap.

You felt him harden beneath you—instinctive, immediate—and you loved it. Loved the way he gasped into your mouth. The way his hands clutched your hips tighter, grounding you, needing you.

“Fuck,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You kissed him again—sloppy, deep, tongue dragging against his—then leaned back just enough to see his eyes.

Flushed cheeks. Glazed pupils. Open mouth.

And then you rolled your hips harder. Once. Twice.

He groaned.

Low. Deep. The kind of sound that made your thighs tremble.

“You like that?” you whispered, breath hot on his lips.

He gritted his teeth. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

You smiled.

Then you did it again.

⸻

He tugged your shirt up halfway, just to feel more of you. His hands roamed your bare back, then slipped under your bra strap, unhooking it without a word.

You gasped.

He looked smug.

“Cocky again?” you breathed.

“I’m still me.”

You leaned down, nose brushing his.

“Then shut up and touch me.”

⸻

He did.

Gently. Reverently.

His palms cupped your chest, thumbs brushing over your nipples until you moaned into his neck. Your hips didn’t stop moving—rubbing against his hard-on through clothes, chasing friction, desperate and messy.

The room was hot. Your skin slick.

You were panting now—together—mouths open, breathing into each other’s throats.

When his fingers tangled in your hair and tugged your head back gently, you whined.

He kissed down your throat. Bit softly. Licked harder.

“You’re so fucking hot when you’re like this,” he murmured.

You shivered.

⸻

Then—

You slowed.

Still grinding. Still flushed.

But now your hands were on his face.

Holding him.

Not lust. Not dominance.

Just you. Touching him. Letting him see you.

And when he opened his mouth to speak, you kissed him first.

Softly.

Then again.

And again.

Until the panting faded. Until the pace gentled. Until all that was left was the sound of breath and the press of bodies and the soft, whispered truth of it all:

This wasn’t just a phase.

It wasn’t tension.

It wasn’t a game.

It was real.

And it was yours.

⸻

Later, you curled up beside him in the center of the studio floor, both of you half-dressed, flushed, worn out. His shirt had ridden up your ribs. Your bra was gone. His hands still wandered—lazy strokes along your spine, over your hips.

“You always grind like that?” he murmured against your ear.

You blushed. “You always beg like that?”

He bit your earlobe.

You squeaked.

He laughed.

You smiled.

_________________

It had been exactly four days since you’d last kissed him.

Three since you let him touch you under your shirt.

Two since he’d whispered your name while grinding into you like he couldn’t breathe without the friction.

And one since you realized you didn’t want to keep this secret anymore.

Not because you were ashamed.

But because hiding something that felt this good started to feel like a lie.

⸻

You didn’t even plan it.

You were halfway through another exhausting practice—Riki across the room, sweat dripping down the side of his neck—and then suddenly he looked up.

And you looked back.

And that was it.

⸻

Heeseung had you running the full routine today. Lights low. No mirrors. Just music, floor, breath, each other.

And something cracked wide open.

Because every lift, every step, every time he held your hand a second longer than necessary—it hit. Not just physically. Not just technically.

But emotionally.

You danced like your heart was pressed against his palm.

And when it ended—when the music slowed and you collapsed into the final pose, curled into his arms—he held you tighter than the choreography required.

You stayed there. Breathing hard.

He didn’t let go.

⸻

Later that night, after everyone had cleared out and the studio lights were dimmed again, you sat across from him on the floor.

No music. Just silence.

And the tension between you was no longer sharp. No longer electric.

It was warm.

Solid.

Riki leaned back on his hands, watching you with soft, unreadable eyes.

“I don’t wanna fight with you anymore,” he said.

You blinked.

“Not like that,” he added. “Not to prove I’m better. Not to win.”

“…Then why do you keep showing up?” you asked quietly. “Even when I push you?”

His jaw flexed. Then loosened.

“Because,” he said, like it hurt, “I love you too much to compete with you anymore.”

⸻

Your breath caught.

His eyes stayed locked on yours.

No smirk. No teasing. Just the truth.

You crawled toward him slowly. Onto his lap. Hands trembling just slightly.

He let you settle.

Let you feel him.

Let you decide.

“…Say it again,” you whispered.

“I love you,” he said.

And you kissed him like it meant everything.

Because it did.

⸻

You pushed him back onto the wooden floor, lips never leaving his. He moaned softly as your hips found him again, grinding gently, lazily, not chasing anything—just needing.

Riki’s hands slid under your shirt again, like muscle memory. But this time, they didn’t grope. They held.

Palms to ribs. Thumbs brushing the curve of your breasts. Breathing in sync.

You were whimpering softly now—too full of everything, too sensitive—and he kissed you deeper, swallowing every sound like it was holy.

“Don’t stop looking at me,” he whispered between kisses.

You did as told.

His eyes were blown out. Cheeks flushed. Hair messy under your fingers.

And he still looked at you like he couldn’t believe this was real.

You started grinding slower. Smoother. Letting yourself feel every drag of your body against his. He gasped softly when your chest brushed his. When your thigh slid between his.

His hand moved up, cupping you fully.

You moaned. Loud.

He kissed you again, harder now.

Wet. Open. Tongues moving slow and hot and filthy.

He broke away just long enough to whisper, “You feel perfect.”

Your eyes stung.

Tears slipped down before you could stop them.

Not sadness. Not confusion.

Just overwhelmed.

You buried your face in his neck, still grinding, still moving, voice shaking. “Why do you make me feel like this?”

He held you tighter. Pulled you down into his chest.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “But don’t stop.”

⸻

Your breathing slowed eventually. Your lips kissed him softly now, without hunger. Just love.

When your hips stilled, he didn’t let go.

When your heartbeat steadied, he didn’t stop tracing shapes on your back.

And when you whispered “I love you too” into the crook of his neck—

—he smiled so softly you felt it in your soul.

⸻

Later, when you lay tangled on the studio floor—his hand in your hair, your ear against his chest—you realized something.

This wasn’t just about chemistry.

Or rivalry.

Or lust.

This was about trust.

And for the first time in a long, chaotic, competitive life—

You let yourself fall.

All the way.

______________

The performance hall was buzzing.

Backstage lights flickered, voices echoed, and the tension of show day clung to the air like hairspray. Everyone moved fast—costumes fixed, last-minute water bottles passed around, hands squeezed for luck.

But somehow, through all of it, you weren’t nervous.

Not really.

Because when you looked up…

Riki was already watching you.

⸻

He didn’t say anything at first.

Just walked over, black rehearsal sweats replaced with dark performance pants, hair slicked but still rebellious, like always. His shirt clung to his body in a way that made your stomach do a small, traitorous flip.

But what got you—what always got you—was the way he smiled at you like you were already his favorite part of the night.

“Ready?” he asked.

You nodded.

Then, quietly, “Are you?”

He tilted his head, grinning. “I’ve been ready since the moment you hated me.”

You rolled your eyes.

But your fingers slid into his anyway.

⸻

The curtain rose.

The crowd silenced.

The lights hit you like heat.

And suddenly—you were dancing.

Not like rivals. Not like competitors. Not even like students.

But like partners.

His hands found your waist without hesitation. You leaned into every lift like it was instinct. The rhythm pulled you both forward—quick steps, sweeping turns, breathless pauses, mirrored breath.

Every beat, every transition, every glance—it all came together.

By the time the music slowed and you landed in that final dip—his hand on your back, your face inches from his—you weren’t even thinking anymore.

You were just feeling.

⸻

The lights faded.

The audience erupted.

And still… he didn’t let go.

⸻

Backstage was chaos. Hugs. Congratulations. Blinding smiles.

But Riki only looked for you.

And you only looked for him.

You found him leaning against the wall, stage lights still dancing in his eyes, chest still rising and falling from adrenaline.

You walked up, slow and steady.

And when you were close enough to feel his breath—

You kissed him.

⸻

It wasn’t messy. It wasn’t showy.

Just real.

You cupped his cheek with one hand. He gripped your waist with both.

He kissed you like the whole room disappeared.

And when you broke away, people were staring.

Jake blinked.

Sunoo squealed.

Yunjin cheered way too loudly.

You smiled.

“Still wanna compete?” he asked, soft.

You shook your head. “Not when I already won.”

He raised a brow. “Cocky.”

You shrugged. “I’m still me.”

He laughed.

You kissed him again.

⸻

Later that night, walking home in your performance clothes, his hoodie around your shoulders, you linked pinkies.

The air was cold, but your fingers were warm.

“So what now?” you asked.

He glanced sideways.

Then leaned in and whispered:

“One more step.”

And you took it.

Together.

_________________

THANK YOU FOR READING PLEASE REBLOG AND COMMENT <333

[fleurbly]

please on my knees, james cook he gets reader pregnant and she doesn’t want it but he’s persistent, damn near an asshole about it and pretty much traps her

── YOU’RE BABYTRAPPED with cook's baby 𝜗𝜚

concept/blurb warnings: implications to smut, forced pregnancy, baby trapping, aged!up cook, mentions of wanting to have an abortion.

i rlly enjoyed writing this and i have an itch to turn this concept into a oneshot. thankyou for asking anon!

you never thought this would happen— not to you, not with him.

getting pregnant by james cook had never even crossed your mind. sure, you’d fucked him. over and over again, late at night, behind locked doors, in places you’d be ashamed to admit. he never used protection, but you never expected him to. he didn’t ask, and you didn’t press. because you were on birth control. because you were careful. because you thought the real danger was catching feelings, not ending up here— sitting on your bathroom floor, knees drawn to your chest, pregnancy test clutched tight in your hand like it might dissolve if you squeezed hard enough.

two lines. clear as day. no mistake.

you feel hollow. cold. like your body isn’t yours anymore.

the first person you think to tell isn’t your best friend, or your mother, or anyone who might talk you down— it’s cook. which is stupid. but somehow, it’s him. because you know he’ll say something that’ll make you feel real again. something reckless. something cruel. something that’ll snap you out of this numb, breathless panic.

but when you tell him, you get none of that.

he doesn’t shout. doesn’t ask if it’s his. doesn’t even blink.

he just smiles. wide. slow. like this is what he’s been waiting for.

“well,” he says, leaning back on your couch, hands behind his head, “that’s that, then.”

you stare at him. “what?”

“you’re keepin’ it,” he says simply, like it’s obvious. like it’s already done.

your mouth opens, then closes again. your chest is burning. “i’m not. cook, i’m not doing this.”

he just watches you. lazy, amused. “yeah, you are.”

you laugh. it’s sharp, bitter, cracked around the edges. “you don’t get to decide that.”

“i do when it’s mine,” he says, standing up now, towering over you like always. “and it is, yeah? you didn’t let anyone else fuck you raw. just me.”

you try to move past him, but he steps in your way. again. always.

“move,” you say quietly.

he doesn’t.

“i’m not ready for this,” you say, and your voice finally breaks. “i don’t want to be a mother.”

he tilts his head. for a second, he looks at you like he almost gets it. but then he shrugs. “too late.”

“cook—”

“nah,” he interrupts, his voice dropping lower. softer. worse. “you let me come inside you how many times? don’t act brand new.”

you flinch. his words land like bruises.

“you knew what i was like,” he says, stepping closer. “knew i wouldn’t pull out. knew i’d fuckin’ ruin you eventually.”

you push him, hard. fists on his chest. he doesn’t budge.

“fuck you,” you spit.

he grins, all teeth. “already did.”

he grabs your wrist. not hard, but firm. enough to stop you from running. his other hand presses to your stomach like he owns it already. like the thing growing inside you belongs to him more than you.

“you think i’m lettin’ you walk away from this?” he asks. “nah, babe. you’re mine now. properly mine.”

you turn your face away. you hate him. you hate how calm he is. how sure. how he’s already planned it out in that fucked up head of his— you, barefoot in his bed, swollen with his kid, stuck.

“you’re insane,” you whisper.

“maybe,” he says, brushing his lips over your temple. “but at least i’m not in denial.”

you want to scream. to shove him so hard he breaks something. instead, you stand there, frozen, his hand spread over your belly, his breath hot against your skin.

and somewhere deep inside, under all the fear and fury, you realize something far worse, he’s not scared at all.

he wanted this.

and now, you’re never getting away.

[miyasmagnolias]

𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐲 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 ✧˖°.

miya atsumu x f!reader

atsumu drops off dinner for you at the campus library, where he helps demonstrate a steamy scene for your creative writing thesis. for research purposes, of course.

part thirteen of the in close quarters series, a friends-to-lovers college AU featuring you, atsumu, and the ten months you spend living together senior year.

content warning: this chapter contains sexually explicit content and is intended for readers 18+!

Atsumu had only ever been to the campus library three times.

The first was for a group project freshman year, where he sat in a study room for two hours while his smarter, more anal classmates did the entire thing. The second was to print out a sign asking his ex-girlfriend to a frat formal — after she'd complained that he never did anything romantic for her.

The third came about when he FaceTimed you after volleyball practice at 10:03 PM on a Tuesday. And, fortunately for you, he'd grown up a little at this point.

"Hello, Miss Librarian," Atsumu whistled, propping you up inside of his locker as his teammates clamored around him in various states of undress. He flung his sweaty bangs out of his eyes and grinned. "How's the writin' confinement goin'?"

"Horrible," you answered, fingers slipping past your reading glasses as you massaged your tired, screen-fatigued eyes. "Why did I ever sign up to write a fifty-page thesis? Do I have zero self-respect?"

"Please. Yer only realizin' that now?" Atsumu retorted. At your withering stare, he said, "I'm kiddin'! Sure, writing an entire story is hard, but nothin' worth doin' is easy, right?"

"Wow," Sakusa drawled, slamming his locker door beside Atsumu. "What fortune cookie did you pull that from?”

Atsumu ignored his teammate and turned back to you. "I'm assumin' ya haven't eaten dinner yet, either?"

"No," you admitted, chewing on the drawstrings of your hoodie. "I had a protein bar from the library vending machine, but I'm pretty sure it expired in 2005."

Pulling on his own hoodie, Atsumu grabbed his phone, slammed the locker door shut, and slung his gym bag over a shoulder. "Just hang in there, alright? I'll be there in fifteen with food."

"Are you sure?" you asked as Aran mimicked the sound of a whip somewhere in the distance. "You already had a long day with practice. I don't want to bother you."

"What? No, ya ain't botherin' me," Atsumu promised, shoving his team captain off-screen with his free hand. "I love goin' to the library — exposin' myself to all that knowledge and asbestos. It's a real campus treasure."

That's how he ended up here. A broken umbrella in one hand. A soaked paper bag of burritos in the other. Stumbling across campus in the middle of a torrential downpour like the fool that he was.

"Stupid piece of crap," Atsumu murmured, flinging the defective contraption into the trash bin of the library's first-floor lobby. It clamored to the bottom with a loud clank.

A security guard glared up at him from the circulation desk. Atsumu raised his hand with a wince. "Sorry."

Atsumu never understood why you liked the library so much. The floors were far too quiet, the smell of the carpet too musty. In fact, as he took the elevator up to the fifth floor and knocked on the door to your private study room, he felt like a visitor at a state penitentiary.

"Thanks for coming," you sighed, letting him into the cramped room you had reserved since 9:00 AM that morning. Your mouth practically watered at the greasy paper bag in his arms. "That smells divine."

Meanwhile, Atsumu plopped your late-night dinner atop the wooden desk and looked around the room with his hands on his hips.

"Yer tellin' me you've been locked in here all day?" he asked, taking in the dreary beige walls, the single vision panel in the door. "There ain't even windows to the outside!"

"Please. It wasn't like I was gonna get a ton of Vitamin D today anyways," you retorted, gesturing to Atsumu's wet hair and soaked sneakers. You grabbed the blanket you'd brought from home and wrapped it around yourself. "I think it's cozy."

"Claustrophobic's more like it," Atsumu murmured. "Will ya eat yer dinner please? Ya look malnourished."

You sat in silence while you both ate your burritos from their tin-foil wraps, the smell of salsa and queso and fresh guacamole seeping into the walls. Atsumu licked his fingers clean and plucked a page of your thesis from the stack scattered across the desk, his dark brows furrowing in concentration.

"So what scene in your thesis has got ya this worked up?"

You exhaled slowly, tossing your dirty napkin onto the table. "The smut scene. My TA thinks I'm 'playing it safe,' but I don't know what the fuck that means."

"Playin' it safe?" Atsumu scoffed. "Yer not trying to rewrite Fifty Shades 'ere."

"That's what I told her!" you cried, throwing your hands into the air. "She said she wants to see my main character fully loose herself in the heat of the moment, stop thinking so critically about everything. But I just...I don't know how to capture that."

Atsumu hummed thoughtfully as you stood from the table and began clearing your dinner.

"Well, maybe ya don't know how to write about it because ya haven't experienced it for yerself."

You paused by the trash can, the air in the study room somehow stiller than it was before. You slowly spun on your heel to meet Atsumu's eye.

"Are you saying I've never had good sex before?"

Atsumu blinked at the slight tilt in your voice. The challenge it carried.

"No," he said, although the grin slowly pulling at his lips told you otherwise. "I'm just sayin' you've never been with me."

"Wow," you drawled. Atsumu laughed.

"I mean, look! I didn't know what yer previous boyfriend was like, but I can assure you, he ain't nothin' like me."

"That's awfully bold of you to say. You know, as someone who isn't my boyfriend," you pointed out.

It had been a few weeks since you and Atsumu had blurred the lines between friendship and more, and while you hadn't exactly defined what that more meant, it hadn't included anything overtly physical. Between your thesis meetings and Atsumu's hectic volleyball schedule, the both of you were too tired, too busy to explore that part of your relationship.

But that didn't mean you weren't curious.

In fact, as Atsumu reached across the cramped room and gently pulled you into his lap, you wondered why you hadn't acted on that curiosity sooner.

"I'm just sayin', maybe it'll be helpful to have some real-life experience to draw from," he suggested with an easy shrug. "Why don't ya read for me the first few lines of the scene, and I'll tell ya what I would do instead?"

"...okay," you huffed in bemusement, selecting the correct page and nestling into Atsumu's warm embrace. He rested his chin atop your shoulder as you read. "His lips crashed into hers without any sort of indecision, his desire potent. Unmistakeable —"

"Nah. Nuh-uh."

"What?" you laughed, dropping the page into your lap. "Is it really that bad?"

"It ain't bad, it's just...sudden!" Atsumu stammered. "If I were the love interest, I would slow things down. Tease her. Leave her wantin' more."

"Oh?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "And how exactly would you do that?"

"Well," he began, staring up at you suggestively. "Can I demonstrate? Ya know, for research purposes?"

You smirked at the confidence in his voice, the way his fingers gently began massaging the flesh of your hips.

"Why, what are you gonna do?" you asked, your voice low. Humored. "Have sex with me on top of this table?"

"Please," Atsumu scoffed, his breath hot on your lips. "I may be down bad for ya, babe, but I'm still classy."

Your eyes scanned his face, the mixture of cockiness and affection there.

You parted your lips and said, "Show me, then."

Dimples deepening on either side of his grin, Atsumu leaned in and brought your lips to his.

Just as he'd promised, his movements were slow, languid. Almost as if he were savoring you. Your hand found purchase at the base of his neck, his at the small of your back. His touch was warm, fortifying. You longed for it elsewhere the deeper he kissed you.

His other hand slid out from beneath your knee and gently worked its way up your thigh.

"...is this okay?" he murmured, thumb brushing back and forth across the thin material of your leggings.

You nodded, a light gasp escaping you as he parted your legs and massaged the flesh of your inner thigh. He chuckled lowly against your lips.

"Easy now, sweetheart. I'm just gettin' started."

You didn't know what it was — the scent of rain in his hair, the way his Kansai accent bent around the word sweetheart, but your thoughts grew fuzzy.

The seconds stretched on as Atsumu took his time with you, teeth grazing your bottom lip. Tongue working against yours. Hand kneading your thigh at an excruciatingly slow pace.

Your first kiss with Atsumu had felt spontaneous, hurried. Like a secret you couldn't wait to tell each other. This, on the other hand, felt anything but. This time, Atsumu kissed you like he was studying you. What you tasted like. What made you moan. How long he could touch you before you started aching for more.

You broke the kiss only to change positions, the wooden chair creaking beneath you as you straddled him.

"T-Tsumu..." you managed between jagged breaths, his lips now tracing the curve of your jaw, sucking the sensitive spot behind your ear. "...the window..."

"We can stop," he said thickly, though the sheer pressure of his lips on your skin suggested otherwise. "Want me to stop?"

"No," you said firmly, grip tightening in his hair.

"Then don't think 'bout it. Ain't no one lookin' in here anyways.” He pulled his mouth away, cupped your chin, and gently turned your face towards his. “Just focus on me, babe. It’s just us two.”

His lips caught yours once more, your kisses hungrier. More desperate. Your breath caught in the back of your throat as you felt him, every inch of him, harden through his dark grey sweatpants. A barely restrained moan slipped past his lips as you, without thinking, gently rolled your hips against his.

“Fuck,” he ground out, the friction of his erection between your legs enough to make his eyes roll back.

"...so much for teasing me," you said amusedly, steadying your hands on his shoulders as you moved. God, the friction was phenomenal.

"Please," Atsumu huffed, hands sinking into your hips as he dragged you back and forth across the length of his clothed cock. "Do ya even know what other things I've wanted to do to ya, babe?"

His question alone sent a shiver down your spine.

"I think I have a pretty good idea of what you'd want to do to me, too," he drawled, leaning his head back as you continued pleasuring yourself. "I mean, all those stories ya made me read? All those filthy sentences ya write?"

"Yeah?" You refused to give him the upper hand in this, but the way your voice cracked betrayed you entirely.

"'She rode his cock the same way she wrote her novels. Furiously. Without a doubt of whether or not she was good at it,'" he recited from your first creative writing story of the year. "Think you'd be good at it, babe?"

The mere fact that he remembered that was enough to have you stammering out your next words.

"We...we could try..."

The smirk he gave you drove you mad.

"I don't want the first time I fuck ya to be on a table, sweetheart," he admitted. "...I wanna enjoy ya properly."

"...Tsumu, fuck..."

"...wanna treat ya right. Put my mouth on that pretty pussy of yours and put all yer sentences to shame." The chair beneath you squeaked even louder now as he said, "I bet ya taste good, too. Just like the rest of ya."

Despite yourself, you moaned at that. Loudly.

"I swear to God, Tsumu, if you don't shut your mouth — "

He grazed his lips against your own, cutting you off mid-sentence.

"Then what? You'll realize I'm pretty good at teasin' ya after all?"

You don't know how much longer you could've lasted at that point. Blushing furiously. Grinding against his clothed cock like your life depended on it. He felt so good between your legs, you could only imagine how much better it would feel without your stupid leggings on.

"God, Tsumu, I'm so wet..." you ground out, eyes fluttering shut. Heat building in your lower belly. “…so close…”

"Yeah?" His lips pulled into a lazy grin. "Ya can cum for me if ya want. I won’t mind.”

He gripped your ass and moved you faster, harder against him, the pressure between your legs at a near-boiling point as you moaned his name.

"...that's my girl," Atsumu breathed, watching your eyes roll back in sheer bliss. "Use me, baby. Show how much ya want me.”

A jagged whine escaped your throat as you came, a wave of pleasure ricocheting across your every nerve, every muscle. Atsumu cursed under his breath as he continued to drag you back and forth across him, hips gradually slowing as you rode out your orgasm.

The thin material between your legs was soaked by the time you had finished.

“Do you…” you asked him in between breaths, chest heaving. “…do you want me to…?”

"Huh?" Atsumu followed your gaze toward the hard-on still in his pants. A soft chuckle escaped him. "Oh! Nah. I-I mean, yes, I’d love that, but we don’t need to now.”

An easy smile tugged at lips as he leaned in to kiss you. “What matters most to me is that ya feel good, baby.”

Your face flushed as you stood from his lap and began readjusting your clothes. “Since when did you start calling me pet names?”

“Since…now, I s’pose.” Atsumu leaned back in his chair with a grin. “Why? Ya like it?”

“It felt a little weird at first, but…I also came without ever taking my clothes off, so it clearly worked.”

The way he laughed made your chest ache in affection. Head tilted back. Shoulders shaking. Dimples on full display. You wished you could photograph this moment and keep it in your back pocket forever.

He folded his arms across his chest and shot you a humored look. “Ya got everything ya need for yer thesis now?”

“Think so,” you replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Thank you, Tsumu.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

You returned to your own chair across the table from him and immediately cracked open your laptop.

“…but just so you know,” you said, eyes never leaving the screen as you began typing away. “The next time I sit on your lap like that, I expect you to take my clothes off, first."

Atsumu didn’t know what it was — be it the unrelenting tent in his pants, or the sheer confidence in which you’d just said that, but the tips of his ears turned bright red.

“I — ya can’t just say stuff like that and keep workin’!”

You smirked up at him from your computer and shrugged noncommittally.

“Two can play at that game, sweetheart.”

His dick throbbed in his pants long after you continued to write.

@miyasmagnolias, 2025

[itzpookiepooh]

hii pookieee hope you're doing well <333

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSB9hRetv/

i saw this trend and was wondering how the lads men would react if reader did this

Y’all don’t make this easy 😭

I Don’t See The Problem

“How are you so confident with a pudge?” One of your acquaintances asked you making you furrow your eyebrows. Pudge?

You look down and all you see are the lumps of fat on your chest. You smirk and nod.

“Can’t worry about what I can’t see.” You hold your hand up in defense. Caleb looks over your shoulder nodding.

“I feel like this is a great view anyway.” He commented making you burst into laughter and your friend turn away embarrassed.

“You’re gaining a bit of weight.” Someone comments making you side eye them. You look down and all your see is your melons making you shrug.

“If I can’t see it it’s not a problem.” You sass. Sylus agrees as he looks down at you.

“I also don’t see a problem.” He added making you roll your eyes at him.

Of course he doesn’t because he’s built like a giant and can only see your chest when he looks down too.

Xavier didn’t mind any weight…ever. Someone commented on your weight and you looked down to only see your cleavage. You smiled like you brightened your own day.

“They look good I can’t lie.” You compliment yourself as you pose. Xavier had to get in on the fun too.

“They also feel good so you win all the way around.” He comments laying his chin on your shoulder. Your head snaps to him as he shrugs like he didn’t say anything out of pocket.

You were standing looking at your breasts making Rafayel stop in his tracks. He sizes you up before looking around.

“What are you doing?” He questioned you before walking closer.

“I can’t see my stomach.” You mumble staring into your chest. Rafayel chuckles before looking where you’re looking.

“If you can’t see it then it’s not a problem right?” He assumed making you light up and snap your fingers.

“You’re onto something!” You laughed.

“Is there a reason you’re looking into your bosom?” Zayne called to you looking a bit concerned.

“They’re my greatest asset.” You tell him making his eyes shift to yours.

“I agree.” He bluntly spoke making your jaw drop as he walked out of the room.

I think I got confused about the ask and I realized too late so I hope you like this 😔

[traumadumpwriter]

Nasty Secret - 2

Bf! Rafe Cameron × Kook Reader🍓

Based off this ask: "Do you think you could do an imagine where Rafe finds out that the reader has been SAd in her past and he gets mad about it?"

Trigger warning for: sexual assault, trauma, coercion, alcohol, explicit violence, blood

Part One | Masterlist

Word Count: 5.2k

I really hope you guys like this!! Stay safe and always here to talk if u need it <3

Part Two:

The next morning, you were both slightly hungover, waking up with your hot bodies entangled and sweaty. You slowly arose from bed, shared a shower and had some fun, and then got ready for your days ahead. Rafe had no real plans, drifting between going back to sleep for a little bit or seeing if anyone was at the basketball courts. You on the other hand had unfortunately promised to help your mum with the grocery shopping and some other chores, forgotten about it, and were now running late - which you knew you would get a good nagging at for.

"I'll see you later, don't have too much fun." Rafe teased and gave you a quick kiss before speeding back on his bike, having dropped you home.

A dreamy sigh fell from your lips as you watched him race away, feeling beyond relieved that he seemingly hadn't clocked onto anything being wrong, but a tightness was still present in your chest. It would have to go ignored for a couple hours longer anyway, as your mother appeared in the driveway with a scowl, rushing you into her car.

It was hard to not let your thoughts slide back to Bryce as you wandered down the fluorescent lit aisles, feigning interest in the calorie information that your mother was spewing at you, obsessed with some new diet fad. In a sober headspace, his words felt even more vile, repeating and reminding you that he felt no guilt or shame for what he did. He thought that you'd wanted it, and was offended by the notion that you hadn't. It had you questioning all of the pain that you'd felt last year after the attack. Had you somehow insinuated to him that you wanted to have sex? That you wanted to take whatever he'd given you? It's not like you could remember the night clearly enough to truly dispute it, although the heavy feeling in your gut was telling you to trust your initial instinct.

Even without the dizzying internal discourse you were experiencing in regards to your own responsibility, you would've been walking around in a daze, as there was also your boyfriend to worry about. As Bryce had said; you weren't as innocent as Rafe thought, and the idea of him finding that out made your stomach churn far worse than any of last nights liquor could.

On the flip side, Rafe's morning had been one of clueless bliss. When he got back home he pleasured himself to the memory of fucking you less than an hour beforehand, made himself a bowl of cereal, fell back asleep for another two hours before getting up and showering again, deciding that he would go to the basketball courts.

He'd left his phone charging on the bed as he showered, spending quite a long time in there, and was surprised when he came out to have multiple missed calls from Topper. A light exhale of amusement left his nostrils as he pictured whatever trouble the boy had gotten into, imagining that Georgia had caught him with another girl or that he'd started a fight with someone more suited to Rafe's size.

"What's up bro-" He spoke casually into the phone, but the smile was soon wiped from his face as Topper cut him off with a low voice, sounding uncharacteristically panicked.

"Is Y/N with you?"

Rafe didn't like the way his friend had said your name, scowling as he replied "No. Why?"

"We need to talk."

Toppers voice was serious. Rafe stood up straight, his mind instantly going to bad places.

"What the hell do you mean? You can't just say that. What's happened?" He demanded and Topper was quick to reply, though he stumbled on his words.

"That Bryce dude- me and Georgia have gone around all morning, asking so many people- we wanted to make sure it was true before-before saying anything-"

"Before saying what?" Rafe spoke sharply through gritted teeth, unable to bear Topper's preliminaries any longer.

He had already broken his own heart, drawing from the few words what seemed like the most obvious need for such a call. You had cheated on him, and that was why you'd behaved so strangely the day before. It all made sense.

Then Topper finally sighed and forced it out, and the racing, angry thoughts went suddenly silent.

"He's roofied a few girls. Y/N's one of them."

Rafe paused. His breath caught in his throat and he blinked a few times before he could speak.

"What?"

"I think he was trying to intimidate Y/N or something last night. That's what Georgia thinks anyway. She walked into the pool house and saw them, said that Y/N was too scared to even tell her the truth at first."

The shocking mental silence turned into a piercing, livid ringing as each word came through the phone. Rafe's fists clenched and his jaw went tight, spitting his response.

"So you're telling me that Y/N told Georgia that Bryce raped her."

Topper took a breath.

"Y-Yeah, I guess. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you bro. He's done it to a bunch-"

Rafe ended the call, gripping the phone so tightly he could've cracked it. Then he scrolled through to find your contact and rang it without a second thought.

You had been home for an hour when his name popped up on your phone screen, the silly photo you'd set as his contact making you smile. Since you'd gotten home, you'd helped put away all of the groceries, then ironed and folded the washing for your household, and then just sat down to have a scroll break before continuing your chores.

You didn't hesitate to answer Rafe's call, excited to speak to him despite having done so just a couple of hours ago. The way that his voice came through the phone quickly drained all of that excitement from you though; aggressive, loud and sharp.

"What the fuck is this I'm hearing that Bryce Saunders raped you?" He barked and your stomach immediately plummeted to the ground.

"W-What?" You managed to gasp out before your throat went dry.

"You heard me. He fucking roofied you. And a bunch of other girls. Apparently."

"Rafe- I-"

"Is it true or not?"

You swallowed, the air feeling painfully thick despite him not actually being in the room with you. You felt like he could see the look on your face, feel how caught off guard you were.

"Is it fucking true or not, Y/N!" He repeated louder, making you jump backwards from the phone and finally squeak out your answer, compelled to tell the truth by his fury and your fear.

"Yes."

Then the line clicked and the call was over. Everything was suddenly silent again.

You didn't know whether to expect a loud knock on your door at any minute or for the sound of sirens to echo past your street. What was Rafe going to do? You didn't dare to call him back. Your hands were shaking too much to do so anyway.

Obviously, Georgia had been the one to spread your secret, and you cursed yourself for being drunk enough to tell her before your thoughts raced back to Rafe - how angry he was. How he now knew that you were tainted.

Tears sprang into your eyes and you were about to let yourself collapse onto the bed and sob into your pillows. But then your mother called your name from downstairs, asking for your help with cleaning the kitchen, and so you had to take a deep breath and pull yourself together - knowing that your mother's reaction to what had happened would have even more consequences than Rafe's.

You took a few minutes to calm down and stop shaking, and then you went downstairs, cleaning the house whilst making polite conversation with your mum, expertly pretending to be fine whilst internally feeling like the world could be ending.

As soon as Rafe had gotten the unfortunate confirmation from you, he'd thrown his phone against the wall with a loud smash and paced out of his room, heading straight to his dad's safe - having memorised the code quite some time ago. With no hesitation, he grabbed the black, metal handle of Ward's semiautomatic handgun and tucked it into his waistband before heading downstairs.

There was no one at home to stop him and so he didn't even bother to put his t-shirt over the handle, charging to his car with blind fury. He wouldn't have been able to explain why he was so angry to anyone, not to you or himself. It was so much more than the vile act that had been committed against his girlfriend - it was the fact that he hadn't known. The humiliation that he'd shaken Bryce's hand, invited him into his home and even considered him a friend. The fact that he'd let him be around you.

Then just on time, Topper's truck pulled up into the Tannyhill driveway, speeding in the knowing rush that Rafe was about to do something stupid.

"Woah, dude- what are you doing with that?" Topper noticed the gun immediately, jumping from the drivers seat in a wide eyed rush. Georgia was sat in the passengers seat with a fearful expression.

"What the fuck do you think I'm doing?" Rafe barked at the blonde, shoving past him.

"Well you can't just go kill him, bro! We'll fuck his shit up, but put the gun away!"

Rafe shook his head and continued the pace towards his car, jumping into the drivers seat and speeding off with Topper soon in close pursuit. The drive to the basketball courts was less than five minutes, and sure enough there was Bryce, tall and sweating in the afternoon sun. He looked up at the sound of tires screeching, as did the two other kooks shooting hoops, and at first he grinned, thinking that Rafe was day-drunk and ready to party.

His smile slowly started to drop though as the infamous Cameron exited the car with a determined march and a deep set scowl, the gleaming metal that was tucked into his waistband becoming visible as he got quickly closer. Bryce started to back away, opening his mouth in confused protest, but then Topper's car swerved into the chain link fence, momentarily drawing all focus with the crash it created. That moment of distraction was all that Rafe needed. He launched himself at Bryce with a vicious grunt, ramming the butt of the gun into his head with enough force to crack bone.

The taller lad quickly hit the floor, taking hit after hit from skin and metal, an instant bloody split forming on his forehead. He started punching back, and that's when Rafe pinned him down, straddling him and holding the barrel to his forehead, quickly halting his movements. Topper was shouting, desperately trying to get Rafe's attention but obviously going ignored.

"What did you do to her?" Rafe growled through gritted teeth, eyes boring into Bryce's like a hawk zoning in on its prey.

Bryce was frozen under the metal, his eyes nervously flickering between it and Rafe.

"Me and Y/N? We had sex one time last year. It wasn't anything serious. Come on man-"

Rafe smacked his face hard with the barrel of the gun before pressing the end of it back against his forehead and repeating the question with more volume.

"What did you do to her?"

"I didn't do anything!"

At this, Rafe dragged him up by his collar and demanded for him to get into his car, then shouted at Topper to get into the drivers seat. They both complied without hesitation, terrified by the rage filled gleam in Rafe's eyes and the shimmer of his weapon.

The two Kooks who had been playing basketball with Bryce had stood and watched the confrontation in shocked silence, considering calling the police but then deciding not to mess with the Cameron's - especially after just seeing that. Georgia had too witnessed the entire unfolding of events and felt helpless as she watched her boyfriend speed away, all whilst still waiting in the passenger seat of his car. She decided to drive to Kelce's and tell him what had just happened, hoping that he would be able to help although that seemed unlikely.

Meanwhile, Bryce was cowering in the backseat of Rafe's Range Rover whilst Rafe loomed over him, spitting in his face as he shouted and continued to pistol-whip him, sending a few teeth flying.

"Mary's swamp!" Rafe barked the direction at Topper and then continued his work on Bryce, seething as he demanded to know "What the fuck did you do to her?"

"She wanted it! I didn't do anything!" Bryce repeated desperately, trying to hold up his arms to defend himself against another hit but flinching away pathetically.

"Is that what you've convinced yourself? That all those girls wanted it?" Rafe scoffed. "The others might've. But not Y/N. She's innocent."

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry bro. I made a mistake." Bryce conceded. "Just drop me off here and we can forget this-"

"A mistake? You're a fucking pervert!" Rafe cut him off with an enraged shout, then turned his head to face Topper again for a second. "Faster! We're gonna bury this sick fuck alive!"

Bryce had already lost all the colour in his face, but at this he displayed an expression of abject horror, visible even through the layer of blood that had started to obscure his features.

"I'm not a pervert! You would've done the same thing!" He protested, sinking back even further against the locked door.

Rafe put his hand around Bryce's throat and pulled him up so that their faces were inches apart, spitting as he hissed "You do not fucking know me."

Taking advantage of the gun no longer being pressed to his head, Bryce threw a punch and caught Rafe off guard, hitting him in the jaw and surprising him, causing him to drop the weapon as he flew backwards into the other corner of the seats. Once he'd started Bryce had not planned on stopping, continuing to use his bulky arms and fat fists to deliver skin splitting punches. He reached towards the gun, but then found himself suddenly flying back into the corner as Topper made a violently sharp turn, peaking into the rear view mirror and making a quick decision. It also sent Rafe flying into that direction, putting him back on top of Bryce and giving him the opportunity to grab the gun again.

Rafe was careful not to remove the barrel from Bryce’s head again. The rest of the ride to Mary's Wood was quick but intense, filled with shouting accusations from Rafe and shaking denial from Bryce, even as more of his bones cracked and skin split under Rafe's brutal force.

As soon as the car came to a stop and Topper unlocked the doors with an uncertain look over his shoulder, Rafe shoved Bryce onto the ground outside. They were within the depths of a swampy forest - or at least as deep as they could get in a large vehicle - and the ground was damp and muddy, sticking to Bryce's face.

Rafe leapt out on top of him, kicking him deeper into the mud and delivering a barrage of ring clad punches before aiming the gun again.

"You gonna admit what you did now?"

"You've got the wrong guy-"

Rafe pulled the trigger.

The bullet bounded into ground next to Bryce's head, sinking itself into the mud with a deafening bang. Topper jumped back and shouted "What the fuck, dude?" whist Bryce cowered further in on himself, his eyes wide with a fear he'd never before felt.

"You wanna try again?" Rafe growled and Bryce quickly confessed this time.

"Alright, alright! I put some stuff in her drink! I-I thought that she would like it!"

Rafe pulled back the barrel, preparing it to fire another round.

"And then what?" He hissed.

"And then I- I had sex with her. I- I know I shouldn't have. I'm sorry!"

"You're sorry?" Rafe scoffed, leaning in close, spitting as he spoke. "You’re a rapist. A fucking serial one. I should kill you right now. Or maybe cut off your nuts, that would make you sorry, wouldn’t it?”

"We should get out of here. Someone might've called the cops." Topper spoke and caught Rafe's attention for a second before he turned back to the man on the ground, repeating himself until Bryce conceded.

“Should I cut off your nuts?”

“No. Please don’t! I'm sorry!" He cried, closing his eyes as Rafe pressed the barrel of the gun to his forehead again.

"Sorry for what?" Rafe shouted.

"S-Sorry for taking advantage of Y/N!”

“You’re not being clear enough. What exactly are you sorry for?”

“I’m sorry for- for raping her. S-Sorry for scaring her! She's a-a great girl! I shouldn't have done it."

"Yeah. You're right. You shouldn't have.” Rafe scoffed, then screamed “Now strip!" earning another alarmed look from the two other men.

"T-Take off my clothes?" Bryce stammered.

Rafe quickly shot the gun again, this time the bullet landing even closer to him, before placing the barrel against his forehead, the heat of the metal burning Bryce's clammy skin. His hands shook as he undid the buttons of his shirt and slowly peeled it off before moving to his trousers, tears dropping from his eyes as he unbuckled his belt.

"Take his shoes!" Rafe barked at Topper, who hesitated for a moment before complying. "Take everything he has. Put it in the back."

And so there Bryce Saunders was, naked other than the blood and mud caking his body, cowering and shaking under the gleam of Rafe Cameron's gun, wondering if he was going to be raped in the woods of a town he barely knew, or if he was going to die. The sight brought Rafe a deep satisfaction and he stepped backwards, letting his arm drop and his body relax for a moment, relishing in the scene he'd created - the justice he'd brought. The power that he held in the metal weight of his hand.

He threw a few more kicks just for good measure and then spat on him, cementing Bryce as part of the dirt before deciding that he'd had enough.

"Alright, let's go." Rafe mumbled to Topper, casually heading to the drivers side of the car and ignoring Bryce's cries.

"You can't leave me here with nothing! I can't get back home like this!"

The car door slammed and Topper took a second to look down at Bryce, disturbed by what had just happened but not particularly disagreeing with it.

"Looks like you're gonna have to." He muttered, thinking of how horrified you would have been by the whole scene and then shaking it from his head, not liking how much he cared about his best mate's girlfriend.

Topper then jumped into Rafe's passenger seat and the car was moving before he even had time to close the door, racing past marshes and trees until they eventually made it back onto paved road. Rafe's knuckles would've been white from how hard he was gripping the wheel if not for the blood that coated them, some of it his own, most of it Bryce's.

"Dude... that was fucked up." Topper let out a deep breath.

"What and what he did to Y/N wasn't? To those other girls?" Rafe sharply returned.

"Yeah it was... but that was-" Topper cut himself off and started again. "No, you're right. He deserved that."

"Yeah. He fucking did." Rafe muttered, eyes fixed on the road.

His mind kept on flickering back and forth between the image of you and the image of Bryce, his body tensing as he pictured the hurt that you'd hidden from him, and then relaxing again slightly at the memory of the revenge he'd just served.

"What exactly did Georgia tell you?" He questioned.

Topper swallowed, hesitating before he answered.

"Just that she walked into the pool house last night and Bryce was leaning over Y/N and she was like, freaked out and shaking or something. She drew the dots together herself, Elle had heard some rumours about him but they'd all thought it was some kind of fuckin’ joke, I don't know. But I don't think Y/N actually told her anything. At least not explicitly."

Rafe nodded, silently taking in the information, the speed of the car increasing slightly. Your strange behaviour made sense to him, though still not entirely as he just couldn't understand why you hadn't told him the truth. Why had you claimed that the reason you were crying was just drunken sickness when it had really been something so much more? And why hadn't he pushed you further for answers? Why had he settled for the easy option despite the initial distrust that he'd felt in his gut? Part of him wanted to turn the car around, race back to Mary's Wood and finish the job on Bryce - though he was fairly certain that after the impromptu kidnapping he'd just enacted the millionaire nepo-baby wouldn't be touching any women any time soon. Still - was it enough?

"Where are we going now?" Topper's question temporarily broke the aggressive stream of thoughts and Rafe answered like it was obvious.

"Y/N's house."

"Looking like that? Dude you need a shower. Or to wash your hands and face at least. She's going to freak out."

"My face?" Rafe mumbled, quickly snapping down the sun visor and looking at his reflection in the smudged mirror.

He hadn't realised how well Bryce's hits must've landed against his face until he saw the dried trickle of blood running from his forehead down to his chin, accompanied by an almost identical trickle from his cheekbone. Topper was right, he couldn't arrive at yours looking like this - especially with your mother at home.

"Okay, we're going to mine. I'll be quick." He decided, more to himself than to Topper.

The rest of the drive to Tannyhill was quick and silent, the two lads stewing in the thick scent that had built up inside of the car; metallic and sweaty. Topper waited outside whilst Rafe ran in, put the gun away and then rushed to his room, having a quick shower and changing his clothes. One of the punches that Bryce had managed to land had created a cut on Rafe's cheekbone that wouldn't stop bleeding, much to his annoyance, and so he stuck some tissue onto it and then rushed back to his car, his heart still racing with adrenaline.

"How do I look? Better?"

"You still look pretty rough dude. Mrs Y/L/N isn't going to be impressed. You sure you don't want to wait a little while? Georgia just called me, they're all at Kelce's-"

"I don't care where Georgia is." Rafe cut him off sharply which Topper scoffed at.

"If it wasn't for Georgia you wouldn't even know about what Bryce did. Don't be a dick."

Rafe took a breath, closing his eyes and mentally counting to ten before he replied. It was a self soothing trick that you'd taught him, though usually you would be there to stroke his hand or his hair as he did it.

"You're right, sorry bro. I'll drop you at Kelce's." He spoke quietly before starting the car, another heavy silence engulfing the pair.

All that Topper said when the car came to a stop outside their friend's house was "Good luck" before he skulked inside, quickly met by a terrified Georgia.

Meanwhile, you had just been able to shake your mother from your back, heading down to the end of your driveway to smoke a rare cigarette - something you only did when you were stressed. She would be angry if she caught you, but the wrath of that reaction seemed worth it for the temporary relief. Rafe's angry voice had been bouncing around your head since he'd called you over an hour beforehand, the shame of the truth that he'd uncovered making your gut spin and ache. The thought of his disapproving glare sent a shiver down your spine, but even more so the thought of disapproval turning into distaste turned that shiver into an earthquake. If he left you over this you would never forgive yourself. For lying to him, for then telling him the truth, but most of all for ever being at that party in the first place, for meeting Bryce Saunders.

The sound of a Range Rover coming down your road was loud, almost obnoxiously so, and you knew that it was Rafe's somewhat instinctively, though the speed that it was going at was also a slight clue. You spotted him through the tinted windscreen and could see the deep set scowl on his marble face before he even parked, and you quickly shot your gaze to the ground, feeling anxious and small like a child in big trouble.

The car door slammed shut and your eyes stayed trained onto the ground, your cigarette coming to its end in your fingers.

Then, suddenly, Rafe's arms were wrapped around you, desperate and tight in a hug that you hadn't expected nor realised that you needed. You sank into it and felt your body disappear into his warmth. You hadn't even realised that you were crying until Rafe's voice broke the silence.

"I've got you, baby. I've got you." He spoke softly, rubbing circles into your back. "No one is ever gonna hurt you again. Never again. I promise."

He hadn't planned on being so gentle. He hadn't even known he had it in him. But when he saw you, so crumpled and delicate, the burning rage melted away and was instead replaced by stinging guilt.

"Why didn't you tell me? I never would've let him be around you- I- I would've dealt with it sooner." He whispered.

"I didn't want you to think I'm- that I'm dirty. That I- I was a slut-" You sniffled, a sob rising in your throat. "I just wanted to forget it ever happened."

"I could never think that of you. Never. What he did-” He had to cut himself off and take a breath, feeling his voice harden. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Your crying didn’t stop though. You were barely able to choke out the words “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say that. You don’t need to be sorry.” Rafe pulled an arm away to lift up your face with one of his fingers, finally making eye contact and feeling surprised by just how wet your face was. He'd never seen you sob like this before.

You were also surprised, not having spotted the injuries he'd gained with your glance through the dark car windscreen. There was tissue stuck to a cut on his cheek, dotted with fresh blood, a dried gash on his forehead and bruising forming around one of his eyes. Then you realised that his hands were bruised too, more specifically his knuckles, which were split open.

"Rafe- what happened? W-What did you do?" You gasped, reaching up to gently stroke the injuries, blurry through your eyes.

"Nothing you need to worry about. Don't stress baby, I'm fine." He said softly, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

"But your- your face. You're bleeding."

“It’s just a scratch. It’s fine baby, I promise.” He repeated with a coo, trying to wipe away your tears but being defeated by the seemingly never ending stream.

“W-Was it Bryce? Did y-you get hurt b-because of him? B-Because of me?” You choked.

“Stop blaming yourself.” He spoke slightly firmer now, starting to feel that rage bubble up again. “Seriously, Y/N. He fucking confessed to putting something in your drink. Okay? And he didn’t just do it to you. Do you understand how illegal that is? It’s fucking rape. He should be in prison.”

You nodded weakly, your eyes shooting to the ground again, thick tears cascading down your cheeks. Rafe wasn’t going to allow that though.

“Look at me, Y/N.” He ordered softly and you complied despite how exposed it made you feel, your face red and your nose filling with snot.

“I want to hear you say it. Tell me that you know it’s not your fault. I need to know that you know that.”

You swallowed and nodded, saying as clearly as you could “It’s not my fault” though you were quickly reduced to tears again straight afterwards, unable to hold back a sob.

You weren’t even sure why you were so upset. Rafe wasn’t mad at you, he wasn’t going to break up with you - and that had brought you a profound sense of relief. Yet you still felt even more deeply, a profound sense of despair, as despite everything “being okay”, it suddenly became abundantly clear to you that it actually wasn’t okay. Not at all. You’d done so well at making yourself forget what happened, that now being fully confronted with it - you remembered a lot more than you’d thought.

It was breaking Rafe’s heart to see you so defeated, collapsing into his arms as your legs could no longer fully support the weight of all that you felt. Your sobs vibrated against his chest and it made Rafe feel entirely helpless in a way that he had never felt before. He couldn’t comprehend what it would feel like to have someone violently take advantage of him.

Sure he knew that it would feel bad, horrible in fact, hence why he had been so enraged that it had been done to you, but what he saw in your hunched body was so much more than that. It was devastation.

What exactly had Bryce done to you? Did he even want to know?

He held you tightly, wishing that he could take your pain away with his touch - even if it was just a little bit.

“Let’s go back to mine. Come on, we can get all cosy.” He swallowed a lump in his throat and then whispered, gently guiding you towards the car.

You followed without any thought, climbing into the passenger seat and then curling up into your knees. Rafe buckled your seat belt for you and then cast you one more long, painful look before starting to drive, going slower than he usually would as the fragility of the human body felt suddenly clear to him for the first time.

When he got to Tannyhill, he lifted you from your seat and carried you to his room, and though you felt pathetic for it, you didn’t have the energy to stop him. You didn’t even know if you could’ve walked up all of those stairs anyway, your body feeling as if it was caving in on itself and your breaths escaping you.

Rafe’s warm, protective arms and his fluffy, grey bedsheets eventually calmed you down though, along with the comforting, deep thrum of his voice, gentle shushes followed by gentler words. It wasn’t until you eventually fell asleep, so entirely exhausted, that Rafe felt his body able to relax, unaware of how tense he had been keeping his body - in a state of borderline panic over seeing you so distraught. He was finally able to take a breath and mull over everything that had happened that day, though it hardly made him feel any better.

The only thing that did bring a slight smile to his face was how beautiful you looked cuddled up against him. Even with your tear stained cheeks and red, puffy eyes, you were an angel - his angel - and he would make sure that no harm ever came to you again. He was even considering tracking Bryce down and finishing the job on him, but that would be a decision for another day.

Really hope you guys enjoyed this part! Let me know if you want a part three I might write one. Stay safe love y’all <3

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Can you do a Eric Campbell X Reader and it be like she’s Julie’s friend and Her and Eric pretend to hate eachother but it’s just one big game of cat and mouse!!! I hope I explained it well thank you!!

Request: Can you do erik mistakenly getting a nude from julia's friend?

Something fun to end this Monday! I hope you like it

Warnings: mention of a topless picture

—

Everybody makes mistakes. It’s part of life. But sometimes you just wish you could erase the past. 

Or a text message from the night before. 

You should have checked twice before sending a topless pic to Julia. Nothing sexy or suggestive, just a simple picture to show her the new jewelry you got for your nipples. Instead, you sent it to her brother Erik. 

To make things even more embarrassing, you only realized your mistake when you woke up the next day and saw Erik’s name flooding your notifications. 

Erik: I was not expecting that this morning 💀 

Erik: Is this a drunk text? Because I don’t think I was supposed to receive that… I’m guessing you wanted to send it to someone else

Erik: Nice jewelry. We sell similar styles at the shop. In case you’re interested?

You’ve never been more embarrassed in your life. Of all the people to see you half-naked, why did it have to be Julia’s brother? You considered deleting the conversation and pretending nothing ever happened, but it was too late for that now.  

Quickly typing, you apologized for the unsolicited nude and explained that it was meant for Julia. You thought it would end there, but your phone buzzed with a new notification. 

Erik: Great tits by the way 👀

Your jaw dropped as you read. Great tits?! 

You stared at the screen, heart pounding, unsure if you should be mortified or flattered. 

 ⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

A few days later, you ended up at Julia’s house to drop off a dress she asked to borrow for a date. As you knocked on the door, you prayed that Erik wasn’t home and that you’ll never have to talk about your late night mistake again. The gods of luck must not have answered your prayers because there he was, standing before you, a playful grin on his face.

‘’Well, look who finally showed up,’’ he said, his voice oozing with sarcasm. ‘’I was wondering when you'd grow the balls to come over here after sending me that little surprise.’’

You ignored his teasing and walked past him. ‘’I’m just dropping off a dress for Julia.’’ 

Erik shut the door behind you. ‘’She’s not here.’’ 

‘’I know. She told me to leave it on her bed.’’ 

You went upstairs and left the dress on Julia’s bed, then came back down. 

Having heard you come down, Erik lifted his head from the couch where he was laying on and playing Silent Hill. “You sure you don’t want to stick around? I could return the favor. Show you my jewelry,” he joked, tone suggestive. 

He worked in a tattoo shop, it didn’t surprise you that he had body piercings — other than the one in his nose. But which one was he talking about? Was it nipples? Some men do have them pierced. Or was it…lower?

Although you were curious, you rolled your eyes. “Not interested. Bye Erik.”

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•

‘’I’m so nervous. The last piercing I got was my ears when I was eleven,’’ Danyka told the piercer while she was filling out the paperwork, a nervous giggle leaving her lips.

The woman smiled at her, kind and empathic. ‘’You’ll feel just a pinch, honey. I got my belly done three times, I know what I’m talking about.’’ 

Once she was done, Danyka followed her to the piercing area of the shop, leaving you in the front. 

You walked around, taking a look at all the nipple jewelry behind the glass counter. There were some cute ones with pink and blue gems. And some were insanely big barbels, and painful to look at. How could anyone want something like that? Stretching the hole must hurt, no? Last week, your left piercing accidentally got caught in your towel. It hurt like a bitch. You couldn’t imagine stretching it. 

Your eyes fell on a heart shield with tiny gems on it — very feminine, just how you liked. You weren’t looking to buy any, having bought a new pair recently, but this one was calling your name. 

You pressed the small bell, calling someone up at the front. 

To your surprise, Erik appeared from the back, wearing his leather jacket and nothing under. Shit. You completely forgot that this was the tattoo shop he worked at. 

Your eyes lingered for half a second too long, and Erik definitely noticed.

He smirked, leaning casually against the counter. ‘’Missed me, sweetheart?’’ he teased, voice low and smug. 

You rolled your eyes, trying to focus on the jewelry behind the glass. ‘’Don’t flatter yourself. I didn’t know you worked here.’’

Erik chuckled at your quick denial, his smirk widening as he saw your eyes dart back to the jewelry behind the glass. ‘’These would look good on you. You’ve got the perfect sized nipples.’’

You tried to maintain your composure at his bold comment, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing it made your stomach flutter. ‘’Oh my god. Why are you so obsessed with my boobs?!’’ 

As the banter continued, the front door dinged, signaling someone walked in. A girl — no older than eighteen —, looking to get a belly piercing. She batted her lashes as she talked to Erik, blatantly flirting. 

‘’Alright, I’ll just need you to fill this form, and then we can do the piercing, sweetheart,’’ he said, purposely calling her that to get a rise from you. 

You glanced at the girl, jealousy beginning to run through your blood. ‘’I changed my mind,’’ you declared, refusing to let this girl take what was yours. ‘’I think I’ll take you up on the jewelry offer.’’ You leaned over the counter, your eyes locking with Erik’s. ‘’If you put it in for me.’’

—

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[camficdiner]

I’ve been having a rough and emotional past few days and reading your fics has provided me with so much comfort

Could I get [1.1], [2.12 w/ slow burn sleepover], [3.1], [4.3]

☕️ cams fic diner — order 123

🍒 thank you:

to the girls who dreamt of meeting him once — and somehow ended up in his kitchen, in his hoodie, drinking coffee like it was always meant to be.

💬“And neither of you moves”

✨ description & prompts:

character: Jack Hughes

prompt: you’re a fan — but he’s the one acting like he’s obsessed.

type: fan x Jack, slow burn, hurt/comfort, protective Jack, emotional rescue

🍒🛼✨🧁

You meet him at a fan event in Montauk. Late afternoon. The sun’s dipping behind the crowd, tinting everything orange-gold and unreal.

You’re not even sure why you came — your friend dragged you along, said, “Come on, it’s Jack fucking Hughes, maybe he’ll sign your phone case.” You’d laughed. Didn’t think it would mean much.

But now he’s in front of you, pen in hand, smile crooked like the sun got caught on his mouth.

And for a second, you forget how to breathe.

“Want me to sign your pass?” he asks, soft and amused.

You nod, sliding it over. Your hands brush. You feel stupid for noticing.

He looks up again. Tilts his head. “You local?”

“Jersey. Visiting.”

“Cool,” he says. Then — “You okay? You seem a little… I don’t know. Quiet.”

You shrug, embarrassed. “Just tired.”

“Me too,” he grins. “I’ve been pretending to like small talk for an hour and a half.”

You laugh, finally, and he smiles at the sound like he wasn’t expecting it.

It’s nothing, really — two minutes, maybe three — and then the line moves on. Your friend is squealing beside you, texting your group chat: “He totally liked you. I swear. He stared.”

You’re about to tell her she’s insane when you head back toward the food tent and someone grabs your arm.

A guy — older, drunk, entitled — says something about how pretty you are, how you should smile more, how he’s been watching you. His hand closes over your wrist. You freeze.

You pull back.

He doesn’t let go.

And then Jack is just—there.

“Hey,” he says, sharp and low. “That your girlfriend?”

You barely nod. Jack doesn’t even look at you. He looks at the guy, cold and calm.

“She’s with me,” Jack says. “Let go.”

The man grumbles, backs off. Jack waits until he’s walked away, then turns to you.

“Hey,” he says again, softer this time. “You okay?”

You’re not. You’re shaking, adrenaline burning out in your fingers and knees. You nod, too fast.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s get out of here.”

—

You sit on the passenger seat of his SUV, hands in your lap. He’s silent while driving, only glancing over every few minutes to check if you’re breathing.

You don’t say much. He doesn’t push.

At his house — some rented place with glass windows and driftwood furniture — Luke pops his head out of the hallway and stops dead.

Jack says, “Don’t,” and Luke just nods and disappears.

Jack brings you tea, a hoodie, something to sit on.

“You don’t have to talk,” he says. “Or explain. But I didn’t wanna leave you there.”

You blink. “Thank you.”

His gaze drops. “I… wish I got there earlier.”

You shake your head. “You got there.”

And that’s what matters.

—

He gives you his bed. You argue. He wins.

“I’ll take the couch,” he says. “Seriously. You’ll sleep better.”

You curl up in his hoodie, in his sheets, in a bed that smells like clean cotton and something you think might be him.

And in the dark, after everything, you say:

“Do things like that happen often? Like… people coming up to you?”

He’s quiet. Then: “Yeah. Sometimes. It sucks.”

You roll to your side. “How do you deal with it?”

He exhales. “I have brothers. A team. Security. I’ve got… backup. You were alone.”

“Not after you showed up.”

Silence. Then a soft laugh from the living room.

“Night, Jersey girl.”

“Night, Hughes.”

—

In the morning, he’s already in the kitchen, sleeves pushed up, hair a mess.

You pad in, sleepy. Still in his hoodie. Barefoot.

“You sleep okay?” he asks.

You nod. “Better than I thought I would.”

He hands you a mug. Coffee. Perfectly sweet.

And then, quieter: “I know last night was scary. But I’m really glad I was there.”

You look at him.

He looks like he means it.

So you smile, and take a sip, and don’t say anything else.

Because for the first time in a while, you feel safe.

And that’s more than enough.

[sereia4skz]

hi hi!! can i request a continuation of the hurt in sanctuary for dryad!hyunjin with f!reader? i would love it if it can be a oneshot and if you can include smut as well, if thats okay with you.

you really have a way with words and the last part where the reader doesnt flinch but doesnt lean in to his touch is SO IAHSHSNSKSJJSJS IT GAGGED ME HONESTLY LIKE it makes me wonder how someone who keep disappearing or running away would fix their bad habits, but i guess him returning to find the reader is the first step. i would love to see how the story would unfold 👀

2k Followers Event | silence and thorns

pairing: hyunjin x fem!reader

synopsis: how does one convince their love the forest isnt scary after all but abandoning them there?

warnings: dryad!hyunjin, smut, comfort, reader is lowkey traumatized

event masterlist: #2kShootingStars

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AN: i kinda continued straight from what happened in the other one? like i didn't have much else to say about their fight: hurt in the sanctuary | ot8 headcanons

━━━━━━━━━━━━⋆｡°✩

The silence stretches between you like a wilted vine.

You sit on the edge of the glade, where the grass still remembers your warmth from before. The twisted tree looms behind you, gnarled and shadowed, its roots cradling your curled form not long ago, when your breath came shallow and your voice failed you. You haven’t come back to the Sanctuary lodge yet. Your body moves, eats, rests. But your heart is still somewhere else. Still cold, out of it.

You avoid the forest like the plague, it doesn’t feel the same.

It used to be wonder. A place of humming roots and golden canopies, where birds chattered like gossiping neighbors and leaves danced in reply to your laughter. But now, it's too quiet. The shadows feel longer. The moss is damp in a way that makes your skin crawl, like it remembers you curled up and shivering.

You don't go past the edge of the glade anymore. Even the wind brushing your shoulder makes you flinch. Even the low whistle of the trees feels too much like his voice, distant and drifting away.

You still do your work. Pack Jeongin's lunch, drop off Seungmin's supplies. But when someone asks you to check on the southern grove, you freeze. Your breath catches. You shake your head.

“I…I’m not going in,” you murmur, more to yourself than anyone else.

The forest used to be a friend. Now it’s a maze you barely escaped. Even the other residents notice. Changbin offers to accompany you on your rounds. Seungmin starts asking questions he never asked before: Did you sleep? Did you eat? Are you alright out there? You lie through all of it.

You sleep with the windows shut now. You don’t go near the willow grove. And it’s stupid, maybe, to feel like this when you know he didn’t mean to leave you behind… 

What hurts most is the betrayal. You would’ve walked into any storm for him. And he let you.

So when you see the first offering, wildflowers on your doorstep, a honeysuckle crown trembling on your porch rail, you hesitate. You just stare at it, heart in your throat, not ready yet to decide if it’s comfort or a snare.

Hyunjin lingers at the edges of your space. Not quite approaching, never quite leaving. He doesn’t speak. But nature does on his behalf, petals on your windowsill, fireflies hovering like hope.

You’re tired of being angry. You’re tired of being hurt. But he broke something when he left you behind, and you’re not sure how to stitch it back together without reopening every ache.

It’s late when he comes again, barefoot, haloed in moonlight, bark dust clinging to his arms like bruises. His hair falls in soft waves, threaded with fallen blossoms. He stops a few feet from you, the grass beneath him stilling.

“I miss you,” he says, quiet.

You don’t move.

“I thought… if I kept moving, I wouldn’t have to feel so heavy. But I forgot you always follow. That you would follow.” His voice trembles like wind through brittle branches.

You turn, slow and cautious. “And if I didn’t?”

His lips part. No sound comes.

“You didn’t check, Hyunjin,” you say. “You left me in the fog like I was nothing. I would’ve waited if you told me to. I would’ve…” your voice catches, tight in your chest, “if you asked me to stay away, I would’ve. But you didn’t say anything. You just… vanished.”

His breath stutters. He steps forward, then kneels in front of you, like a sapling bowing toward light.

“I’m sorry.” He presses his forehead to your knee. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to lose you.”

You slide your fingers into his hair, petals catching between your knuckles. “I don’t want to be the only one reaching.”

“I’ll reach,” he breathes. “I promise. I’ll root myself here if it means I don’t lose you again.”

You tilt his face up. His eyes shimmer, not with tears, dryads don’t cry but with the sheen of morning dew, with the ache of change. You lean in, and your mouth brushes his softly, like the first breath of spring.

It deepens quickly. His hands tremble on your waist. Your fingers press into his shoulders, grounding him, pulling him back to you fully. He rises to stand, lifting you with him, your legs around his waist before you realize what’s happening.

The forest hushes. The air holds its breath.

He walks you deeper into the grove, cradling you like something sacred. He lays you down in a nest of soft moss and scattered petals, the moon filtering through the trees above.

“Let me show you,” he whispers, crawling over you, reverent. “Let me prove I’m still yours. If you’ll have me.”

You nod, breathless.

He undresses you slowly, not like he’s undressing a body but like he’s unveiling something holy. His hands are warm and shaking. His mouth presses to every inch of skin he exposes, shoulder, collarbone, the dip of your stomach, each kiss an apology and a vow.

You feel the vines slide up your legs spreading them so he can slot himself near you. The leaves tickle and it take everything not to retreat into yourself. He's careful… more so tan you've every seen him, rough fingers running over your heat. 

When he slides inside you, it feels like the forest exhales. Like everything uncoils. His movements are slow, like the sway of ancient trees, his body curving to meet yours, his breath caught between moans and murmurs of your name.

“You ground me,” he says, lips brushing your throat. “You pull me back when I wander too far.”

Your hands thread through his hair, tugging gently. “Then don’t wander. Stay.”

He groans, low, desperate, and presses deeper, his hips rocking against yours in a rhythm older than language. His forehead presses to yours. Your back should ache from the ground but you can feel damp moss grow under you. 

“I love you,” he whispers. “I didn’t know it until I almost lost you. But I do. I love you.”

You kiss him then, hard and sweet, your legs tightening around him. His hips stutter as his hand slides to intertwine with yours, gripping it like a life line as you come, it crashes through you like thunder through branches. He follows, gasping into your mouth, fingers dug into you like roots clinging to soil.

He stays on top of you, breathing hard. Then he rolls gently to the side, pulling you into his arms, your body pressed to his chest.

The forest rustles. Petals fall around you like rain.

You rest there, waiting to see if he'll fade into the trees again.

━━━━━━━━━━━━⋆｡°✩

taglist: @diekleinesuesse @tillaboo @felixsonlyrealwife @geni-627 @skz8riley @lezleeferguson-120 @pixie-felix @headfirstfortoro @alnex05 @baby-stay92 @encoredesires @androgynouscrownorbit @channiesluvrclub @my-neurodivergent-world @chims-dimple @bookswillfindyouaway @stellasays45 @angel-writes-skz-here @m-325 @0sunshinecryptid0 @beal-o @hug4helios @oksullen @rileylovescats @dreamyfelixx @yxna-bliss @turtledove824 @enhacolor @skzz0213 @hannahlue @purplelady85 @velvetmoonlght @inishij @bangchanspineapple @straykids4lifeee @peskybirdysya @gnabsss @zayn-210 @wolfhallows4 @katsukis1wife @sammhisphere @bangchanspineapple @sunfk88 @sillyseob @rougegenshin @yaorzu-blog @babigriin @tricky-ritz

[classytiti]

Red Stains

featuring: Bo Chow x Fem!Reader warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI Master List Here

you never thought you’d be visiting bo, not really. you thought about it sometimes, late at night, after he gave you that proposition. he said he’d be there for you, for “anything.” and you believed him, the way you do when a man like that looks you in your eyes and says it like he means it.

you’re at his store now, standing there like you’re seventeen again, like you got no sense, clutching your purse in your small hands. bo was the kind of man who brought the calm to your storm, who made your shoulders drop when you didn’t even realize they were up around your ears. a man who was serious about his business, sleeves rolled, sweat on his brow, counting boxes and stocking cans without complaint. you always liked watching him work, even if you’d never say that out loud.

your brothers were the twins, smoke and stack, and since you were young they’d tell you about how cruel men could be, how a girl like you should keep her eyes sharp and her legs closed until you found a proper black man to take care of you. but bo wasn’t black, and bo wasn’t cruel, and maybe he was proper in all the ways that mattered. your brothers were friends with him, pulling him in to help out at their juke joint when the crowds got thick and the nights got long, ever since they came back from chicago with new scars and stories they’d never tell you.

you snap back to the moment when you hear footsteps, slow and steady across the dusty wood floor. the air in the store is cool and quiet, the kind that settles in your bones and makes you forget the heat outside. you see him walking toward you, cigarette tucked behind his ear, white apron now crumpled in his hand as he tosses it aside like it don’t matter. he stops in front of you, close enough you can smell the clean soap and tobacco on him, close enough you can see the small scratch on his knuckle, close enough you feel your breath catch.

“you okay? you barely come here,” he says, voice low, eyes dropping down the length of you. down the silk, salmon-colored dress you wore on purpose, just to see if he’d notice. down to your soft thighs and back up to your neat curls, pinned just so, trying to look grown.

it was always like this, ever since the twins first introduced you to him, standing there in the back of the juke joint, hands in your pockets, eyes too wide. bo was a good man. the kind of man who called your brothers “sir” when they deserved it and “man” when they didn’t. the kind of man who didn’t look at you too long but never looked away either.

you were twenty-one now, and you wanted to date, wanted to feel a man’s hand on the small of your back when he walked you home, wanted to know what it was like to kiss someone you chose for yourself. but you knew your brothers wouldn’t like it, wouldn’t like the way bo looked at you, wouldn’t like the way you looked back.

but standing here now, in the quiet, with bo looking at you like he’d do just about anything to keep you safe, you start to think maybe you didn’t care. maybe you wanted to know what it felt like to choose him anyway.

“yeah… i just, need to talk,” you say.

he nods toward the back room, where they keep the storage and a small desk and chair, and you follow, your soft shoes whispering against the floor. the door clicks shut behind you, and it’s dim in here, the light from the high window cutting across boxes of canned peaches and flour, across the single wooden chair and the small desk covered in receipts and a half-empty coffee cup.

you stand there for a moment, clutching your purse like a child, until you set it down on the desk, your hands trembling.

“what’s going on?” bo asks, leaning against the wall, arms crossing over his chest, his eyes calm, waiting. he’s always waiting with you.

you look down at your hands, picking at your nails, then up at him, meeting his eyes, and it’s like your chest splits open. “i know this is bad,” you whisper, your voice small. “i know my brothers… they wouldn’t like it. but i… i want you.”

it’s so quiet you can hear the hum of the old icebox out front, the soft tick of the clock on the wall, the way your breath hitches in your throat.

he doesn’t move for a long moment, just watches you, jaw tightening, eyes dark. “you don’t know what you’re asking for, baby,” he says, voice low, rough.

“i do,” you say, taking a step closer, your silk dress brushing against your legs. “i been knowing it for a while now.”

you can see the way he’s fighting it, the way he looks away, hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck, how his chest rises and falls slow, controlled, like he’s holding back a storm. “your brothers—”

“i don’t care,” you breathe, taking another step, close enough to smell the smoke and soap on him, the warmth of him sinking into your skin. “i don’t care.”

you reach out, your small hand resting against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath your palm. it makes your head spin, how solid he feels under your touch, how he looks down at you like he’s trying to memorize every part of your face.

“baby,” he whispers, almost like a prayer, before his hand comes up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing your bottom lip.

you don’t know who moves first, but then his mouth is on yours, and it’s like you’ve been holding your breath for years. he kisses you slow at first, careful, but you press closer, your hands clutching at the front of his shirt, pulling him down, pulling him in, until he groans against your lips and his arms wrap around your waist, lifting you, pressing you back against the wall.

your dress hikes up around your thighs, the cool air hitting your skin, making you shiver. his hands are everywhere, sliding down your sides, gripping your hips, pulling you closer as his mouth moves over yours, hungry now, teeth catching on your bottom lip, tongue sliding against yours until you whimper into his mouth.

“tell me you want this,” he breathes, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, his forehead resting against yours.

“i want this,” you whisper, your voice shaking, your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him back down to you. “i want you.”

he curses under his breath, his hands sliding down to the backs of your thighs, lifting you easily, setting you down on the edge of the desk, papers scattering to the floor. your legs open for him, the silk of your dress sliding up, and he steps between them, his hands gripping your knees, sliding up your soft thighs, pushing the fabric higher until it’s bunched around your waist.

his mouth is on your neck, kissing, biting, sucking soft marks into your skin as you tilt your head back, your hands clutching at his shoulders. you can feel how hard he is, pressed against you, and you rock your hips forward, gasping at the friction, your nails digging into him.

“fuck,” he mutters against your throat, his hand sliding up your thigh, slipping under the thin cotton of your panties, fingers brushing against your heat, making you gasp, making your hips buck.

“bo,” you whimper, your eyes fluttering shut, your breath coming fast as he strokes you, slow at first, then faster, his thumb circling that spot that makes you see stars.

“so wet for me, baby,” he growls, kissing you again, swallowing your moans, his free hand sliding up your back, pulling you closer as you move against his hand, chasing that edge, needing it, needing him.

“please,” you gasp, your head falling forward against his shoulder, your body shaking as you get closer, closer, until it breaks, heat flooding through you, your thighs trembling as you come against his fingers, your moans muffled against his neck.

he holds you through it, whispering your name, kissing your temple, your cheek, your lips, until you’re breathing again, until you open your eyes and look at him, your lips parting when you see the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the only thing in the world.

“you sure?” he asks, voice rough, forehead pressed to yours.

“yes,” you breathe, reaching down, your fingers fumbling with his belt, pulling it open, your hands shaking but certain. “i need you.”

he groans, kissing you hard as he pushes your panties to the side, lining himself up, and then he’s pressing in, slow, careful, stretching you, filling you, making you gasp, making your nails dig into his shoulders as your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper.

“you feel so good,” he grits out, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he starts to move, slow at first, each thrust deep, making you gasp, making you cling to him, your head falling back as your mouth falls open, soft moans spilling out with each movement.

the desk creaks under you, papers falling to the floor, the air thick with your quiet cries, his rough groans, the wet sounds of him moving inside you, the smell of sex and sweat and something sweeter you can’t name.

“look at me,” he says, and you do, your eyes meeting his, and it’s too much, the way he looks at you, like you’re his, like he’s never letting you go, like he’s been waiting for you.

“bo,” you cry out, your body tightening around him, your nails scratching down his back as you come again, clenching around him, pulling him deeper, and he follows with a broken groan, burying himself inside you as he spills, his arms holding you tight, his face buried in your neck as he shudders against you.

you stay like that, clinging to him, your bodies trembling, the air thick and quiet, until he pulls back just enough to look at you, brushing your curls from your damp forehead, kissing you soft, slow, like he’s memorizing the taste of you.

“i got you, baby,” he whispers, and you believe him, even if it’s bad, even if it’s wrong, because for the first time, you feel like you chose something that was yours.

and you chose him.

[zorrasucia]

this mess was yours (now your mess is mine) - Part 4

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

Reader x Carmy Berzatto (The Bear FX)

Rating: Explicit (6k)

Tags: Smut, Set two(ish) years before the present aka the New York years, Porn with a little plot, Fluff, Friends with Benefits, Virgin!Carmy (my beloved), P in V Sex, Rough Sex, Non Sexual Roleplay, Oral Sex (F receiving), Fingering, Both Carmy and Reader have a bit of a praise kink, Confessions, Bittersweet Ending

Summary:

"You're a fucking tease," he spat.  "And you're an asshole," you replied, riling him up.  "I'm aware. You have no idea," you detected a hint of sadness underneath the panting lust, you might have felt compassion if you weren't actively trying to get even. "Make it up to me," you dared him. 

"Oh, my God..." you gasped for air as Carmy groaned above you. You were splayed over your kitchen table, your ankles on Carmy's shoulders while he stood and fucked you mercilessly. 

You had the suspicion that his work was being especially hellish lately - it had been four days in a row of him knocking on your door at one in the morning, his hair and skin still wet from the shower, practically begging to fuck you. You had gotten all the way to the bed on the first night, then settled for the couch, now the table. You suspected that next time he would take you on the floor. 

"Sorry for waking you. Shit," he placed a gentle kiss on your ankle, contradictory to the rough pace of his hips against yours. "I can't- Fuck. Needed you so fucking bad..."

"You didn't wake me. Ah!" you muffled a whine with the back of your hand.

"You're in your pajamas," he still had the wherewithal to contradict you, even as you were both nearing your orgasm. 

"I was up reading. Why do you care?" you snapped, craving your release. He chastised you with a particularly hard thrust. "Fuck!"

"I care!" he frowned, tightening his grip on your legs. "I just need you. Holy shit. But I don't want to-"

"I was reading erotica so I'd be wet when you got here, okay?" you blurted out. "Now fuck me stupid so we can both get some sleep."

"Jesus Christ," he growled and sped up, desperately thrusting inside you. His half lidded eyes alternated between glancing at your face and your pussy. He was sweaty and flushed, panting like a drowning man. And all you could do was stare, mouth agape, past the point of moaning, just taking every drop of pleasure he could give you. 

Afterwards, tangled in your bed, your back to his chest, breathing slow, he asked:

"Was that true?"

"About me reading erotica?" you guessed. 

"Yeah."

"Yeah," you admitted. "Wasn't sure you'd come over but last night was-"

"I lost it a little," Carmy admitted. He had bent you over the arm of your couch, fucked you, and then ate you out until your legs trembled around his face. 

"It was hot, Carm. I was still thinking about it. So... Yeah. There's no reason for you to worry. If I didn't want you here, I wouldn't open the door. I... I need you pretty fucking bad too," you admitted.

"Fuck. Okay."

He pulled you even closer to his body, the warmth of his skin lulling you to sleep. 

~

"...I left for a minute and he poached one of my customers! Like sure, he sells a shit ton of books and corporate loves him but he hasn't read a single one of the books he recommends - which is total bullshit!"

Your coworker was venting while you were helping him rearrange the books in his section. 

"He does that shit all the time too," you agreed with a huff. "One time he asked for my opinion on a book and then repeated it word for word to a customer a week later."

"See? That's what I don't get. If his memory is so fucking great then why doesn't he read the synopsis off the back of the book like a normal human being? He's a vampire," he scrunched his face in a grimace, making you laugh. 

"Who the fuck leaves a book with the spine on the inside?" you groaned, looking at a full row where about fifteen books had been flipped so that none of the titles could be read. 

"An idiot. Or a teenager. Same difference," he hummed, a little less agitated than when his rant had started. You worked in silence for a while. "Hey, remember when you promised you'd let me talk to all the cute customers?" your coworker added out of nowhere. 

"It was all the cute gay guys," you accentuated. "But yeah, I remember."

"Now, how am I supposed to know if a guy is gay if I don't talk to him?" 

"I feel like that is a trick question," you said with a giggle without looking up. If your coworker was so taken with the customer, there was no point in fighting him over a twenty dollar sale. 

"Oh, never mind, he's looking at you," he said with disappointment. "Oh, he's looking at you," he grabbed a random book and left quickly, you caught him mouthing the word 'hot'. 

You smiled and put on your customer service voice. "Good evening, how can I help you?"

You turned to find Carmy, with a mischievous smile on. 

"Good evening, Miss," he played along. "I was wondering if you sold any books on cooking?"

"Oh," you stopped yourself from outright giggling by biting your lip. "Right this way, sir." You guided him out of YA, through non fiction, and to the culinary books. "Were you looking for anything in particular?"

"I have a couple of these already," he said looking into your eyes, almost breaking. "Which ones do you recommend?"

You started pulling out titles, rare paperbacks and beautiful glossy hardcovers that you couldn't afford to gift him on a whim, things you had already thought he'd like when it was your turn to arrange this section. 

"I'll give you a while to browse through," you said, your fingers brushing against his as you handed him the heavy pile. "Let me know if you need anything at all," that last phrase came out a little suggestive if Carmy's blush was any indication but he simply nodded.

You stared. He looked beautiful as he went through the pages and stole glances in your direction.

It was nearly closing time when he got to the till, cheeks red as he carried most of the books you had recommended. 

"You want a bag for that, sir?" you asked softly.

"I think I need one," he let out a shy laugh.

"Anything else?" you asked, putting the books carefully inside a canvas bag. 

"I know it's a little, uh- But I was wondering if you could give me your number," he mumbled. You covered your mouth to hide an endeared smile. 

"I don't give my number to customers as a rule. But we're closing soon and there's a coffee shop across the street. Hole in the wall, gourmet sort of thing a foodie like you would like," you offered.

"Right," he chuckled. "Yeah. Okay. I'll, uh, wait for you then." 

It was distracting to have him there, just outside the store, waiting. You messed up at least three times while you counted the cash, and your coworker had to step in and help you. 

"Thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty. You should fuck him," he said all of a sudden.

"What?"

"You've been single for months. And he's looking at you with those sad, lovesick eyes. Put him out of his misery."

"He doesn't have lovesick eyes!" you protested. 

"He does. I would have given anything to have my ex look at me like that," he emphasized pointing at Carmy on the other side of the glass. "And he just met you. That's insane."

You looked at Carmy, smoking calmly in the glow of the streetlamps and something warm and fluttery settled in your stomach, something a lot like butterflies...

After a little while of silence, your coworker asked gently:

"You know I'm kidding, right? About you fucking him."

"Oh! Right!" you forced a smile.

"Like, if you want to fuck him that's cool and you can tell me all about it but only if you like him," he looked actually worried.

You shook your head. "I know. I'm a big girl. I can-"

"Take care of yourself. I know," he rolled his eyes. "It's just that you looked like you were having an existential crisis."

"It was the whole 'lovesick eyes' thing," you admitted. "But you were kidding so it's okay-"

"Oh, no, I was dead serious about that. Made me believe in love at first sight and all that shit."

"Fuck."

"Yeah," he said dryly. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Before you could overthink everything he had said, Carmy appeared by your side.

"I'm sorry for showing up like that," he said, looking sheepish. "It's my day off and there was a bookmark in one of the books you gave me with the address and-"

"It's okay. It was fun, playing pretend and all that," you smiled. "You didn't have to buy all those books though."

"I wanted to get them."

You looked away, the openness of his expression a little too much for you to handle just then. 

You tugged on his sleeve to the left and led him to the coffee shop. "It's this way."

A small detail you had omitted was that they only served to go. So you walked together back to your building, coffee in hand, not talking much, the air between you electric. Predictably, you ended up in his bed, your drinks getting cold on the counter, and his books forgotten on the floor along with your uniform shirt. 

"I feel like I need to tell you..." you started, a teasing tone in your voice. 

"Hmm?"

He was staring at you through his eyelashes, his warm hands on your waist bringing you closer. 

"If you ever get bored of me, my coworker is first in line," you said with a wide grin. 

"Fuck off!" Carmy laughed.

"I'm serious. He thinks you're very hot."

Carmy blushed a deep shade of red, smiling, which had been your goal all along. 

"That's nice but I think I'm getting used to you so-"

He let the sentence hang in the space between you two and leaned in to kiss you deep and sweet. His hand moved your thigh over his, guiding you to grind against him. He was addicting. And fucking him had always stopped you from overthinking. So you let yourself fall into it, the need you felt for him, his touch warm and familiar on your skin. 

"Fuck, baby," he groaned into your neck.

"You'd never called me that," you commented later, basking in the afterglow with Carmy. His face was resting on your belly, tickling your navel as he caught his breath. 

"Huh?"

"Baby. You kept calling me baby while we were fucking.”

You wouldn't feel the need to call it out but the sweet and needy way he said it was half the reason you had come as hard as you did.

"Is that- I crossed a line, right?" Carmy arched his eyebrows with worry. 

"No. You're okay, you're okay. I think I like it," you knew you liked it. "It just felt different."

"I can stop."

You shook your head, and caressed his skin. Whatever you two had was moving and changing into something else but you couldn't name it, not yet. If you didn't acknowledge it, you could still enjoy this. 

"Don't stop."

~

When Carmy knocked on your door that night, he didn't look tired or frustrated like he usually did, he looked fucking destroyed - he was so pale he looked almost grey, his eyes were red and blotchy like he had been crying, and the palm of his hand was half covered with a bloodied bandage.

"Carmy..." you sighed with worry. You reached out for him, cupping his face. 

"Don't ask," he rasped. He surged forward to kiss you, pushing you inside the apartment and slamming the door behind him. 

"But-" you mumbled against his lips. He truly looked terrible, and you were worried. 

"Just kiss me. Please," his eyebrows arched, pleading. He looked like the first time you fucked: a second away from a meltdown, holding tight to you to stay grounded before he completely lost himself.

"Okay," you agreed, caressing his face. If fucking was the way to help him, then you would do just that. "Okay."

You started kissing him frantically, tugging down his coat as you walked backwards to your bed. 

Carmy paused to hold your face, his expression serious. "I need it hard tonight, is that okay?"

You leaned to touch your forehead with his. "Yes. Whatever you need."

He brought you closer and started undressing you, his hands eager. You helped him get rid of his own clothes, no time to linger on his body or caress anything, he wanted efficiency and you could give him that. 

He held your jaw roughly. "On the bed."

He didn't specify how, but you thought this was a "fuck me from behind until I scream" situation, so you landed on all fours, looking back at him. You saw Carmy going through the motions as quickly as he could; putting a condom on and dropping a dollop of cold lube on your pussy. Everything urgent and desperate. He lined himself up and thrust inside you hard.

"Fuck, shit, oh!" you moaned, the stretch of your pussy just this side of painful.

"You're so fucking tight," he groaned.

He didn't say anything else. He started pounding into you hard and fast, his bandaged hand steady on your waist, the other pulling on your hair and then rounding your neck. You were overwhelmed, tears in the corners of your eyes, uttering breathy little sounds. Everything was Carmy, the smell of his sweat, the pressure of his hands, the unforgiving rhythm of his cock inside you...

A particularly sharp thrust hit you just right, you gasped and your arms gave out. Just like that, you were face down on the bed, biting your comforter to stay silent. The frantic rhythm Carmy had set was leading you to the edge quickly, and so you braced yourself for the feeling of blinding pleasure, squeezing the mattress underneath you, breathing fast and shallow.

And suddenly, he stopped, taking his cock out completely, leaving you desperate and empty. 

You whined in dismay, looking back and half expecting to see a teasing smirk on his face - there wasn't. 

Carmy was holding his face in his hands and breathing hard. 

You turned around and rushed to hug him.

"Carm... Baby..." you cooed, running your hands through his hair. He hugged you back, squeezing, like you were the one thing keeping him tethered to reality. 

It was a strange reality too - your pussy was still pulsing, and his softening cock was trapped in your embrace, covered in arousal and lube; all of this as you tried to lure him out of what seemed like a mean panic attack. 

"I need you to take a deep breath for me, Carm." 

"Can't. Fuck," he was crying like a little kid and it broke your heart. "Think I'm dying."

"Breathe with me, baby," you repeated, softer, gentler.

You took a deep inhale, really filling your lungs so he could feel it as he held you. After a second of hesitation, he joined you. His exhale was shaky on the side of your face.

"One more time, yes?" you could feel him nod. "And again..."

You kept breathing like that, until he stopped shaking, and his grip on you loosened a little.

"That's it. That's it. I'm here. Don't worry, I'm here."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Don't be silly," you caressed the back of his neck lovingly. "Wanna talk about it?"

He shook his head, burying his nose deeper in the crook of your neck. "It's, uh, some bad shit from back home," he replied vaguely.

You went through the few things you knew about his family. He was from Chicago, he had a bad relationship with his mother or his father or both, you thought he had a brother even though Carmy had never mentioned him directly, and he had a sister he cared for a lot.

"Is Sugar okay?" you asked softly, guessing. 

He froze in your embrace like he had forgotten you knew about her existence. "Sugar? Oh, yeah. Yeah, I think she's okay."

He was shutting down, and you sensed it could spiral back into the desperation he was feeling before. 

"Sorry. We don't need to talk about it," you felt the muscles on his back relax a fraction. "What can I do?"

He sighed. "Honestly, fucking was working pretty well until just now."

You chuckled softly, and withdrew a little, searching for his eyes, touching your forehead to his. "Yeah?"

"It was good until- I got in my head," he squeezed his blue eyes shut. "Fuck, it sounds awful but I forgot where I was and what we were doing for a second, like none of it was real... Does that make sense?"

"Kind of," you cupped his face gently, soothing the skin of his cheekbones. 

"Probably didn't help that I couldn't see your face," he added softly. In some weird way, it was probably the sweetest thing anyone had told you during sex. 

"C'mere," you tugged on his arm so you were both lying in bed. His head was on your chest and you carded your fingers through his hair. 

You wished he could tell you what was wrong but maybe that was the sort of thing he reserved for relationships. You were friends with benefits, fuck buddies, a booty call that was conveniently across the hall. The title didn't fit the heavy weight of worry and doubt that had settled in your stomach. You realized all at once how fucked you were, because you cared so much for Carmy, more than you had ever planned to, and there was a very real possibility that he didn't feel the same. You had to tell him - not now but soon and then-

"I can hear you thinking," Carmy said softly. Then: "Fuck. I feel like shit. Didn't even ask you if you were okay or- Is it work? Bad day?"

"Yeah," you lied. "I feel a little better like this, though," you intertwined your legs with his. "Do you feel any better, Carm?"

"I'm okay," he looked up to see an incredulous expression all over your face. "I'm- I'll be okay."

He tilted his head, luring you in for a deep kiss. He tasted salty, dried out tears all over his skin. He drew you closer and for the second time that night you were reminded of the first time you fucked - the eagerness that bordered on desperation as he moved with you, kissing, caressing, rolling over...

You opened your legs to straddle his hips, his cock steadily hardening underneath you as you ground your hips needily. His tattooed hands squeezed your ass, guiding your movements, urging you to put your weight on him. 

"Fuck, baby," he panted, reaching up to kiss your neck. "Please."

"Anything, anything, Carm," you said honestly. "What do you need?"

You wanted to make him forget whatever was happening. Instinctively, you began kissing down his torso - a blowjob seemed like the obvious answer. But he reached to cup your face gently.

"Ride me. Use me. I want you to feel good, I want to see your pretty face as you come," he said, his voice gravelly.

You tilted your head in confusion. "You sure?"

He looked at the ceiling, avoiding your gaze as he confessed. "Want to remember that I can make good things happen, that I can make you feel good." 

Oh.

Okay then. 

You moved up again, kissing the side of his face lovingly, intertwining your fingers with his, looking into his eyes as you lowered yourself on him. You rolled your eyes, exhaling sharply, relishing the feeling of him inside you, warm and thick.

"Mmm," you guided his good hand up, to squeeze your breast, to pinch your nipple, and upward, to press on your neck, to cup your face, his thumb tugging on your lower lip, then tangling in your hair. Carmy's eyes were wide open, pupils dilated, following the movement of your hand and his. 

He nodded eagerly. "Yes. Use me," he repeated.

You left his hand there, the pressure on the nape of your neck reassuring as you started rolling your hips, teasing yourself and him. A breathy moan left your lips. 

"Please. Let me hear it," he begged. 

You leaned on his chest and swayed forwards and back, his cock hitting just right, and you let your mouth fall open, letting whatever pathetic and needy sounds you made be heard across the room. 

"Okay but don't fake it," Carmy said sternly, well, as stern as he could be while you were riding his cock. 

"'m not faking," you searched for his eyes. "Mmm. I'm always trying to keep quiet, biting my lip, screaming into a pillow... Fuuuck. You make me feel this good, Carm, always."

He drew you in for a frantic kiss, messy, starved for you, almost as much as you were starved for him. You started bouncing on his cock, pulsing around him, so fucking close. 

"Can't believe you didn't let me hear that all this time," Carmy growled underneath you. 

Hazily, you realized that the sounds you two were making were borderline pornographic - each whiny moan followed by the lewd clap of your hips against his, the squeak of your mattress, then a low groan from Carmy. You would get strange looks from your neighbors for at least a week, but you didn't care right now, not when the beautiful man underneath you was looking at you like you were the starlit sky, mouth open in awe, marveling at every move.

"Fuck, Carm."

"Close?" 

You nodded, halfway into your orgasm already, letting out a loud exhale followed by cries of pleasure. 

"Jesus," Carmy cursed. His bandaged hand was grabbing the edge of the mattress with force, struggling to keep himself from coming. 

You leaned over, pressing your forehead against his, catching your breath. 

"Can you go again?" 

You licked the side of his face, salty with sweat now. 

"Fuck yes."

And you resumed riding him, harder and louder still. 

"You're beautiful," he blurted out, his eyes feasting on your naked body. "You feel so perfect. Fuck."

"Nobody's made me feel this good, Carm" you managed to confess between moans.

His thumb found your clit with ease, brushing over it, following your rhythm. 

"Fuck!" you cried, feeling pleasure build in your belly, squeezing your eyes shut, babbling everything you were thinking. "Yes, fuck me. I want this forever. Oh, my God! You're so good, Carm. I'm in lo-"

He planted his feet on the mattress and started fucking into you. A couple of thrusts was all it took for you to fall sweaty and exhausted in his arms. He held you tight, chasing his own release, the rhythm of his cock frantic and messy. You could hear his lewd growls on the side of your face but you could also feel them rumble inside his chest. 

"Jesus Christ. Fuck," he whined, loosening his grip on you. 

You sat up for a moment, wanting to check in on him. There were tears streaming down his face. 

"You made me feel so good, Carm. You're good." He shook his head, sobbing quietly, trembling. You settled back in his embrace, trying to hold him together, stop him from falling apart. "You are! You deserve good things, Carmy. It's gonna be okay."

"Thank you," he said after what felt like a very long time, sniffling a little. "That was exactly- You were- Just thank you."

You placed a gentle kiss in the crook of his neck and rolled over to lie by his side, your thighs were shaking.

"Wanna stay the night?" you offered.

"Can't," he shook his head, and reached for your hand. "I'm- I need to wake up early."

"Okay," you tried not to sound too disappointed. "Can you- I want to talk to you about something. Not now. But maybe we can go get coffee on Sunday or something?"

His gaze softened, caressing your knuckles between the bedsheets.

"I need to sort some shit out back home but, yes, when I'm back, yes."

~

Two years later

"You mad?" Carmy asked. 

"You surprised?" you snapped.

The drive to his apartment had been mostly in silence, letting you simmer in your anger. Having Carmy near, looking at him calm and unaffected, had opened old wounds and it hurt more than you had expected.

"I know I fucked up. The moment I got here it all went to shit. I wanted to call you. Even just to say that I wouldn't come back. But we never even exchanged numbers and I-" he got choked up. It all came out as one long and frantic sentence. 

And, yes, it had been stupid self-sabotage from the both of you. You had thought about it too: not exchanging numbers kept everything separate, like your physical lives at your apartments were something completely different from your work and your friends and, more importantly, your feelings. Keeping everything so carefully compartmentalized felt downright stupid when your landlord was suddenly showing the empty apartment across the hall to prospective tenants while you were worried sick for Carmy. 

"I'm sorry," he said finally. 

You weren't ready to accept his apology just yet but you gave him a little nod of acknowledgement. 

"For whatever it's worth, your restaurant looks really fucking nice," you said as a peace offering. 

"Thanks," he smiled for the first time since you had arrived. "So are you here for work?"

"Yeah, one of those team building things," you explained with a shrug. "Thought I'd stop by and say 'fuck you' real quick."

You were angry and bitter and hurt but Carmy's soft eyes were hard to hate. He caught you staring and moved closer.

"Glad you did," he said openly. He took another step closer and when you retreated back, your back hit the counter. 

"Carm," you said sternly. He was too close, like he had suddenly forgotten the passage of time and you were back in New York two years ago. 

"Sorry," he walked back, giving you space. "Um, are you with anyone?"

His voice sounded sad and defeated. 

"No. I had a boyfriend for a hot minute there but he turned out to be an asshole so..." 

Carmy winced. "Sorry."

"Not your fault. You?" 

"Same. Only I was the asshole,” he allowed himself that boyish smile that made you melt.

"Wouldn't be the first time," you said dryly, reminding yourself that you were here to demand explanations and apologies and- 

Why was he walking towards you and why were you grabbing his t-shirt and bringing him closer and why did everything feel so right and familiar?

Carmy searched for your eyes, his fingers carefully fixing a strand of hair behind your ear. 

"Can I just-?" he asked, leaning in, leaving half an inch of separation between you so you could choose to close that space. It wasn't really a choice - you had wanted him for so long and here he was, wanting you back like it was that easy...

You kissed him hard, a little angry, biting at his lower lip, nails abusing his scalp. Before you knew it, he had placed you on the countertop. You tugged at his shirt until he took the hint and removed it. His hands were restless on your thighs, so you guided them up, to the button and zipper of your jeans.

"Are you sure?" he asked against your lips. 

"Yes. Fuck. Yes," you panted, helping him to get rid of your jeans and underwear. He gave you one more desperate kiss and knelt in front of you. You opened your legs slowly, teasingly and Carmy just looked up in awe. 

"I missed you," he said, getting close. You could feel the exhale of that last syllable on your pussy.  

"You talking to her or to me?" you quipped but it was a feeble attempt at saving face - he had you moaning almost immediately. You pulled on his hair and got rewarded with a groan directly on your clit. "Fuck, I missed you too," you confessed.

He smiled with satisfaction, nipping at the stretch marks on the inside of your thighs and, fuck, it felt good to be wanted so completely. You shivered. 

Carmy looked intently at your pussy; before you could ask what he was thinking, he spat on it, adding enough moisture to put two fingers inside you. He had never done anything like that with you. It was a stark reminder that time had actually passed and he had fucked someone else, someone who made him feel that he could be dirtier, more daring, and the thought could have made you spiral if it wasn't interrupted by Carmy curling his fingers just the way you taught him while his lips sucked on your clit. You let out a low moan, pawing blindly at his back. 

He paused to ask: "Do you still like it this way?"

"Of course I do, you fucker," you cursed, feeling him chuckle against you. Softer, you admitted: "You're so good at that."

"Yeah?"

You nodded. It had been a really fucking long time. And maybe you needed to be a very specific type of competitive and emotionally unavailable asshole to be good at this. That was a comforting explanation to give yourself while you begged Carmy to keep going. It hurt your pride when he emerged from between your thighs, a satisfied grin on his face as he wiped your arousal from his chin while your legs were still shaking uncontrollably.

"Fuck you," you managed, then drew him in to kiss that smug expression off his face. The moment you touched his cock over his slacks, he let out a whiny sound that felt like you were finally starting to get even. His expression turned needy, arched eyebrows and wide eyes. Adding more pressure to your caresses, you whispered: "You better have a god-damned condom in the house or I swear to God-"

"I do. Fuck. Hold on," he put his hands underneath your thighs and carried you, your legs framing his waist and your hands squeezing the firm muscles of his back. Once you got to the bedroom he let you fall on his bed, a little careless. You scooted up, taking off your shirt and bra, then arching to see Carmy open a condom with his teeth.

"Good boy," you teased, noticing how red he got at your praise. You cursed the fact that you didn't know this about him when he was still in New York. What a waste. 

He hovered above you, kissing down your neck. You busied your hands unbuttoning his slacks and palming his crotch. He hissed at your touch. 

"Shhh," you soothed, freeing his cock just enough to let him roll the condom on, squeezing his ass under the fabric of his boxer briefs.

You lined his cock to your pussy, anticipating the stretch and the easy way you two fit together. Carmy groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he thrust inside you. 

"That feels so fucking nice," he managed to say. "You feel incredible."

"Yeah?" you clenched around him purposefully, a challenge.

"You're a fucking tease," he spat. 

"And you're an asshole," you replied, riling him up. 

"I'm aware. You have no idea," you detected a hint of sadness underneath the panting lust, you might have felt compassion if you weren't actively trying to get even.

"Make it up to me," you dared him. 

And he gave you everything he could, hard thrusts that made the bed shake and hit the depths of you. He pinned your hands above your head and stared hungrily, focused entirely on you, drinking in every little sign that he was making you feel good. Your mouth was agape, your eyelids fluttered with every thrust, and you were uttering soft moans into his mouth. 

"You going quiet on me?" he had the nerve to ask. 

"You don't get to hear that. Not after ghosting me," you managed. 

He changed his rhythm to something slower, more tender. "I'm sorry. I swear I am."

His eyes were wide and sincere and you had the sudden urge to start crying. You pulled your hand from his hold and covered your face with your forearm. You couldn't look him in the eye for this.

"Remember I told you I wanted to talk, when you came back?" you asked.

"Yeah."

"I was gonna tell you that I'd fucked up, that I had feelings for you and- Fuck, I don't even know what I hoped for back then."

Carmy stopped moving his hips and grabbed your wrist, slowly pulling on your forearm to see you. A tear ran down the side of your face and you had never felt so naked. 

"I was in love with you," he said simply. "I didn't know it back then but- You were the only thing that made any fucking sense, the only thing that made me even remotely happy..."

"And?"

"I was scared of it. Terrified. And I had to stay here. My brother died. Everything was fucked. And you were good and deserved better," he cupped your face, wiping tears with his thumb.

"Fuck you," you sobbed. "I thought you were hurt or worse. You told our fucking landlord but you couldn't tell me?"

"It wouldn't have made a fucking difference! Would you have left New York?"

"Of course not! But you don't get to decide for me!" 

"I know that now!" he sighed. "And I know it's too little too fucking late but I'm so unbelievably sorry."

You didn't know how to reply so you moved your hand to his lower back, pressing a little, asking him wordlessly to keep fucking you. He gave you a small nod and started moving, back to that undulating, love-making pace. 

"Baby," he said and kissed you sweetly, trying to fit a thousand apologies in the movement of his lips. You carded your fingers through his hair, a little longer and wilder than you remembered. 

"Carmy," you sighed against his lips and realized most of your anger had melted. "You know you're the best I've ever had, don't you?" you teased, eyes still teary but a small smile lighting up your face.

He flushed down to his collarbones. 

"Right back at you."

And with that, he took your right leg and maneuvered it over his shoulder, his angle changing and making you see stars. You didn't stop the needy whine that came out of your mouth. 

"That's my girl," he beamed. "Fuck, I love how you sound," his calloused fingers moved down your leg to your thigh, squeezing. "And I love your thighs. Never got you to sit on my face but I wanted it so fucking bad."

You were a moaning mess but even with his cock deep inside you, you could tell he was saying goodbye. 

"You always made me feel so beautiful, Carm," you raised a hand to cup his face. "Thank you for that. Oh, right there..."

He kept hitting that spot, concentrated, that tiny wrinkle between his eyebrows a little more pronounced than you remembered.

"You are beautiful. And funny. And, fuck, all the books you gave me are at The Bear. I never forgot, I could never."

You moaned higher, your hand dropping down to his jaw, then his throat, until your thumb rested on his Adam's apple. You could feel him groan with every thrust. His hand traveled lower still, to your clit, his thumb bringing you closer to your release.

"I forgive you," you said, realizing as you said it that you actually meant it. 

"Holy shit," Carmy cursed as his thrusts became messy and frantic, driving you to orgasm right before he did. He collapsed on top of you, his head on your chest. "Thank you. Fuck. Thank you, baby."

You touched his face, traced the shape of his nose, as you both recovered. You caught a glimpse of the dusky sky. 

"It's getting late. Gonna miss my flight. I should probably-" you gestured at your discarded clothes on his bedroom floor. 

"Let me drive you to the airport?" he offered softly. 

You fixed his sweaty hair, a little too messy even for him, and kissed him. It was sweet and short and it tasted like goodbye. 

"Okay. Thank you."

~

@vyctorya

[neobunnydoy]

Deep Sleep | Jung Jaehyun (M)

You've been having trouble sleeping and jaehyun's determined to solve your problem. pairing jock! jung jaehyun x tutor! fem! reader

genre and content college au, kinda friends with benefits (?), fluff, SMUT MDNI, unprotected sex (be responsible pls), soft dom! jaehyun, pwp but with feelings

word count 3.3k

author’s note can ya’ll tell I’ve been having trouble sleeping………

The study guide laid open on the floor, your laptop screen dimming from inactivity, the only light in the room now a soft, golden glow from your desk lamp. You sat cross-legged, spine slightly hunched, a highlighter limp in your fingers. Another yawn slipped out, long and silent, your eyes blinking slowly like they had to remember how.

Jaehyun noticed.

You’d been unusually quiet tonight. No nagging. No dramatic sighs when he got an answer wrong. No sarcastic quips about how he might just fail Econ and take you down with him. Instead, you looked like you might drop dead any second.

"Baby, you okay?" he asked gently. You blinked slowly, looking up like it took effort to focus. “Yeah. Sorry. Just been having trouble sleeping lately.”

He frowned. “Why? Is there something going wrong?”

You smiled a little. Tired, but fond. He was always like this. Gentle. Curious. Even when you were just partners for a class project last semester, he’d stuck around. Jaehyun, the literal captain of the basketball team, campus heartthrob, the one whose name floated around with rumors and girls’ giggles… had somehow become your study date partner. And now your actual friend.

“It’s nothing. Just... student council stuff,” you muttered, waving it off.

His frown deepened. “Are they working you too hard again? I keep telling you, you don’t have to do everything by yourself. Can’t you just sit back and tell your minions to handle things?”

You huffed out a laugh at his expression. In his head, being the president of the student council was just you sitting at the head of the table bossing people around. Which, you guessed, some presidents probably do. But you were an overly ambitious perfectionist, and this role of yours? You took it maybe a little too seriously. So no, bossing around your “minions” was not an option. “Yeah, but still. The festival’s coming up, and it’s just a lot. Not really the work, more like… the pressure I guess. Can’t seem to turn my brain off even when I try.”

Jaehyun pouted at that, hated hearing you suffer like this. “Well you have to sleep, still.”

“I know, but I’ve tried everything....” And that, Jaehyun took as a challenge. He was always so competitive about the most trivial things, you could immediately hear the gears in his head turning.

“What about hot milk? Chamomile tea? I can go get some—”

“Tried it.”

“Okay, back to basics. Counting sheep?”

“I counted to a thousand once.”

“Scented candles? Podcasts?”

“Jaehyun.”

“Oh, what about ASMR?”

You gave him a look. Trying to tell him that there was literally nothing he could say that you hadn’t tried already.

He groaned. “Baby, come on. When was the last time you actually slept?”

You hesitated, pressing your fingers to your temple like you had to calculate. “I don’t know. Two weeks ago? I passed out after you dragged me to that charity run…”

He looked horrified. “Baby, that was almost a month ago.”

“Oh—really?” Your eyes widened. “Oh god. I… I don’t even know anymore.”

“Okay, wait, that's good. So you’re saying the marathon worked…” he said slowly, straightening. “Maybe we just gotta get your body moving.”

You gave him a blank look. “Jae, I don’t even have the energy to stand for more than 5 minutes. There’s no way I’m running another 5K.”

He sighed, recognizing the fault in his logic. He was wracking his brain again—and he was thinking so hard you almost let out a laugh. You should tell him to stop worrying. And honestly? At this point, you were convinced you were already past saving.

Then suddenly—like a light bulb went off over his head—you saw his eyes widen as he turned to you.

“Didn’t you pass out after we had sex?”

Your body froze.

Your brain literally short-circuited for a few seconds. 

He had said it so casually, like it was just another memory. Not something you’d been trying to bury in the deepest parts of your brain ever since it happened.

It had been a one-time thing. A slip. You’d both had drinks. You’d blurted out that you’d never had an orgasm before. And Jaehyun—stupidly competitive, golden-retriever Jaehyun—took it as a personal challenge.

He won.

And then neither of you brought it up again.

Until now.

“Wha—Jae. What are you even saying?”

“I’m saying,” he said matter-of-factly, “that it worked last time. You passed out like a minute after I made you come. You’re welcome by the way.” You continue staring at him, not knowing what to say. 

He smiled softly, hands patting the top of your head. “Look, I’m not saying we have to. But baby, you haven’t slept in weeks. That’s not okay. And I mean... maybe I can help.” Fuck, he’s actually serious. You were now realizing that no, you hadn’t magically fallen asleep and started dreaming. Jaehyun was actually sitting in front of you, offering to fuck you to sleep.

Was this a bad idea? Did you even have the energy to say no? You’d been desperate for the past month, trying everything to get a good night’s sleep. God knows you needed it.

But what ultimately made you actually consider it… was the way he was looking at you. He wasn’t joking or saying it to get into your pants. You could see the genuine concern, the quiet resolve. Like he would do anything for you.

You swallowed. “I mean… I—okay.”

Jaehyun’s eyebrows perked up like he didn’t expect you to agree. “Yeah?” You sighed in defeat. “At this point, I’ll try anything.”

He smiled, then stood up. “Okay. Go lay down.”

“Wait, now?” Your voice came out higher than you expected, cracking slightly at the end.

Because suddenly—it hit you. He was standing there, already tugging you gently to your feet. This is happening.

It had been literal months since you slept together. Months since you’d slept with anyone. And this wasn’t supposed to happen again.

Except now… it was.

Your thighs instinctively pressed together, the memory sending a hot, low ache right to your core. Your pulse kicked up, fluttering in your neck, in your wrists, in every inch of skin he was about to touch.

“We haven’t even finished this last chapter yet.” you continued, still trying to stall for more time.

“Baby.” He reached for your hand, gently pulling you up. “You think I can focus on test prep knowing you’re one more yawn away from a coma?”

He started guiding you to your bed. “Now be a good girl and let me put you to sleep,”

You froze.

That sentence should not make your knees weak. But it did. Badly.

You slowly sank down on your bed, eyes darting anywhere but his. Suddenly not having the courage to look up. Still shocked at how... determined he was. One thing about Jaehyun—he was competitive, and when he set his mind to something, he was going to get it done.

But you were just... nervous. And Jaehyun could read you like a book. He cupped your face, forcing you to look at him.

“Nervous?” he asked.

You nodded slightly. “It’s just… been a while.”

“That’s okay. We'll go slow, yeah?”  His voice dropped to a murmur, lips brushing against yours.

“I’ll take care of you, baby. You don’t have to do anything.”

You barely managed a breathy, “Okay…” before he gently eased you onto the bed, pressing you into the mattress with the soft weight of his body, his lips slotting over yours for the first time in months.

He kissed you like he cared. Like you mattered. His lips moved slow, his hands cradling your jaw, thumb brushing beneath your ear. His body angled over yours, coaxing you back into the pillows, one kiss after another until the tension in your chest began to unravel.

“Let me,” he whispered against your mouth, already sliding his fingers beneath the hem of your shirt. “You don’t have to lift a finger tonight, baby.”

You let out a shaky breath, eyes fluttering shut as he eased the fabric up over your waist, then higher—slow, steady, reverent. His palms grazed your sides like he was memorizing you all over again.

And when he finally pulled your shirt over your head, his breath caught. Revealing nothing underneath. 

“Knew it.”

Your cheeks flushed, chest rising with a sharp inhale. “I—It’s just… we were studying, I didn’t—”

“I know, baby” he said quickly, cutting you off, voice softer now. “I know you’re not teasing me on purpose.” He shaked his head, murmuring to himself. “You don’t even realize what you're doing to me.”

Your stomach fluttered, thighs pressing together instinctively.

Then he dipped his head and licked a slow stripe over your nipple. Your back arched with a gasp, hips twitching beneath him.

He chuckled softly against your skin, closing his mouth around you, tongue flicking before sucking gently. His free hand came up to cup your other breast, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak.

“Still so sensitive,” he murmured, switching sides, lips wet and warm. “Love how pretty you sound for me…”

He circled your nipple again with his tongue, and your whole body trembled in response.

"Jae—" Your fingers tangled in his hair, breath caught in your throat. Every flick of his tongue, every squeeze of his palm sent pleasure crackling down your spine. You could barely think—barely breathe—under the weight of his attention.

His mouth found your lips again as his hands slid beneath the waistband of your shorts.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby,” he murmured. “Just let go, yeah? Tell me if anything feels too much.”

You nodded.

His hand slipped between your thighs, his fingers sliding under the hem of your underwear, finding your clit like he’d done it a thousand times. The first touch made your whole body twitch, breath snagging hard in your throat. You didn’t even realize you were clenching your fists until you felt the sheets bunched up in your grip.

His fingers moved slow—gentle circles, featherlight touches—drawing your arousal out until your hips were tilting helplessly into every pass of his hand.

“So wet already, baby.”

Your cheeks burned. “Jae…” your voice came out breathless, cracked and needy.

He kept working you open, fingers finding its way inside you, thrusting slow and steady, never too much. Just enough to keep you hovering. Your back arched into him as his mouth returned to your neck, your hands fisting his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

“Doing so good for me,” he murmured, pressing soft kisses between every word. “So pretty like this, baby. So fucking soft.”

The pleasure was building too fast. Your thighs shook around his hand, hips grinding down like your body had taken over. He knew exactly what you needed—when to press harder, when to ease back. And he never once looked away from your face.

“J-Jaehyun—please—” You gasped, voice pitching when he curled his fingers just right.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” he soothed. “You’re so close, aren’t you?” You couldn’t even answer.

Your body gave out first. The pleasure hit all at once—hot, sharp, and overwhelming. You came with a cry, thighs clenching, back arching as the waves of release rolled through you. Jaehyun didn’t stop—he slowed, fingers gentling, coaxing you through it as your body trembled beneath him.

Your lashes fluttered. Dazed. Breathing uneven.

“You came so fast for me, baby,” he said, voice soft as he nuzzled your cheek. “Guess you really needed that, huh?”

You let out a breathy laugh, still catching your breath, your body still tingling. But he didn’t move away. His hand slid down your side, grounding you, soothing you. Then he leaned in, pressing another kiss to your lips—slow, sweet, lingering.

“Sleepy?” he asked, lips still grazing yours.

“Yeah…” you murmured. “I think so.”

“You think so?” He leaned back with a teasing scoff. “Yeah, no. That’s not gonna cut it.” He sat up, stripping off his shirt. “Let’s make sure you pass out for real this time, yeah?”

You blinked, already flushed again as his hands slid down to tug your shorts and underwear off in one fluid motion. He tossed them to the side without looking.

“You need my dick to really knock you out, don’t you?”

The words sent a shiver down your spine.

He looked up at you, smirking.

“Is that it, baby?”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out—your brain scrambling, your body still floating.

“Say it,” he said, tone warm but firm. “Tell me what you want.”

Your throat tightened. Your heart was pounding again. He was so close—so steady, so patient—but he wasn’t going to give it to you unless you said it.

You swallowed. “Please,” you whispered.

Jaehyun leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth—slow and deliberate.

“Hmm, please what?” he asked softly, dragging his lips down to your jaw. 

You felt your whole body light up again, breath catching in your throat.

“Please… I want you,” you breathed. “Need you, Jaehyun.”

“Good girl.”

He removed the rest of his clothing, then climbed over you. His lips capturing yours in one last kiss—deep, needy, before he pulled back to look at you. 

“Deep breath, baby,” he murmured, his voice low, trying to soothe the tension that had built up in your body. “I’ve got you.”

His hand cupped your cheek as he positioned himself carefully, and then, finally, you felt him pressing slowly into you. 

You gasped, your body instinctively arching as you felt the stretch. He pulled out before thrusting himself deeper this time. You could feel every inch of him now. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you adjusted.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Jaehyun whispered, his voice tight, strained as he fought to hold himself together. “Just like that, baby… Just like that.”

He moved slowly, carefully. His thumb brushed over your ribs, his lips trailing tender kisses along your jaw, your cheek, your temple.

“You’re doing so good, baby” he breathed, his voice thick with the strain of holding back. “God, you feel so fucking good.”

“Jae—” you whimpered, voice cracking as your walls fluttered around him. “Feels so—so full…”

“I know, baby,” he murmured, voice strained. “You’re taking me so well. You’re doing so good for me.”

You clenched around him, body pulsing without meaning to, and he let out a guttural moan, jaw tightening as he tried to control himself. 

“You okay?”

You nodded, too breathless to speak, but your hands clawed at his back, and your hips lifted again, chasing his movements, begging for more.

“Use your words, baby,” he said gently, lips brushing your cheek. “Please,” you whined, eyes glassy. “Please, Jae—faster.”

That made him groan—long and low, right against your throat.

He started to move. Faster, more deliberate. Hands gripping the inside of your thigh keeping you open for him. Each roll of his hips hit that perfect spot, coaxing desperate little moans from your mouth every time he bottomed out.

“Ah—Jae—feels so good, I—” Your words tumbled out, useless, wrecked.

“I know, baby. I know. I’ve got you.” He kissed you like he was trying to steady you, but he was shaking too—cursing under his breath with every clench of your walls around him. “You feel so fucking good—fuck.”

His hand on your thigh were gripping it a little tighter, using it for leverage as he began thrusting a little harder, a little deeper.

You gasped, head falling back against the pillow. Your body was already fluttering again, overstimulated, the pleasure rising too fast.

“Shit—baby—are you gonna come again?” he rasped, eyes locked on your face.

You nodded, choking on a sob. “I can’t—can’t help it—feels s’good—” “I know,” he gasped, hips stuttering as he pressed his forehead to yours. “Let go for me, baby. I’ve got you.”

His words worked like magic. Every ounce of worry, every bit of the pressure in your chest, started to melt away. You felt the weight in your heart lift, like he was taking it off of you with each slow, precise movement.

And then, just like that, your body gave in—shuddering beneath him as the pleasure washed over you in a crashing wave.Your legs locked around his waist, pulling him deeper as you shattered beneath him, body pulsing, crying out his name.

“Shit—fuck—baby—” Jaehyun choked on a moan as your walls clenched around him, dragging him straight over the edge. His rhythm faltered, muscles locking up, arms tightening around you.

He buried himself deep, hips pressed flush to yours as he came with a low, guttural sound—his release spilling inside you in hot, slow pulses.

He slowed his hips, gradually easing down, his lips ghosting over your jaw, your neck, anywhere he could reach. Your chest rose and fell, fast at first—but soon it evened out. Deepened. Your fingers went limp against his shoulder.

Jaehyun stilled.

“Baby?” he whispered, brushing his nose against your temple.

No response. Just soft, warm breath at his collarbone. Completely still.

He smiled.

You were out cold.

Carefully, like he was handling glass, Jaehyun slid out of you and gathered you into his arms. You made the tiniest sound—something like a sigh—but didn’t wake. He guided your body gently, positioning you to lie half on top of him, one arm curled around his middle, your cheek against his chest.

Then he reached for the blanket, tugging it up to your shoulders and tucking you in. His fingers brushed the damp strands of hair from your forehead, smoothing them back with quiet care.

And he just… looked at you for a moment.

You looked so peaceful. No tension in your brow. No pinched exhaustion in your features. Just… soft.

God, you were so soft.

He didn’t know exactly when he started caring about you like this. When tutoring sessions turned into late-night check-ins, or when “project partner” stopped being the only thing you were. But it happened fast. Maybe too fast. And quietly.

You made it easy.

Everyone said Jaehyun was the popular one, the guy everyone knew. But knowing someone and being known were different. Most people liked the idea of him. Liked how he looked in a jersey or how his voice sounded during a campus party.

But you?

You saw him.

Beyond the game schedules and the girls that flirted too loudly. You stayed up with him when he panicked before a test. You brought extra pens. You shared your notes. You actually gave a damn whether he passed or failed, not because it affected your grade—but because you wanted him to do well. You believed he could.

He’d never had someone like that.

Ever since he met you, he saw you doing everything for everyone. Fixing things. Helping. Showing up. You didn’t know how to stop giving. But never once had he seen you give that same effort to yourself.

Until tonight.

Until you let him take care of you—even if it was ridiculous, even if it meant getting you to sleep the only way he knew how.

Jaehyun smiled to himself, heart swelling as he looked down at you.

You were completely dead to the world, one leg tossed over his thigh, your lips parted, hair a mess, breathing slow and steady. The cutest little expression on your face—like you were finally at peace.

He brushed your cheek with the back of his knuckles, then pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Good night, baby.”

Then he wrapped both arms around you and finally—finally—closed his eyes, too.

[notyancionline]

Unsteady

Pt2-back to friends

Pt1

I kinda feel like an island. I should go home, but I’m fighting that right now…

It’s almost 2 a.m. when she finally pulls the covers over her chest, still in the same clothes she wore out. Her makeup is smudged. Her phone is face down on the mattress. She hasn’t looked at it in hours. The room is dark except for the soft, yellow light bleeding through her blinds. Her body feels like it’s here, but her mind’s still stuck back at that party. Or maybe not even the party just the second she thought she saw him. Just a shape in the crowd that looked like his shoulders. A guy who turned his head the same way. It wasn’t him. Of course it wasn’t. He hasn’t been around since that night. She breathes in, slow. Her throat tightens on the exhale. It’s not even just him. It’s her. She hasn’t felt steady in days. Weeks, maybe. Everything feels kind of tilted now every conversation, every fake smile she gives when people ask how she’s been, every guy who tries to flirt with her. She barely hears herself speak anymore.

“It’s so hard when it feels like my fault…”

She scrolls to the top of their messages. Her finger hovers. Then drops the phone to her chest like it burned her. The hoodie she’s wearing still smells like him. Faintly. Like cologne and something warmer. Something soft. Something that hurts now.

“I’m so unsteady…”

Her phone lights up once group-chat notification and then goes dark again. She doesn’t check it. She doesn’t move. Just stares at the ceiling, the grainy shadows across it moving as cars pass outside. She’s not crying. She already did that earlier, in the bathroom with the sink running. This is something else. Something worse. That soft, crawling numbness. Lately, I’ve been staring at the ceiling… It’s a sort of funny, quiet feeling… Her fingers reach up, lightly dragging across the hem of the hoodie. His hoodie. She knows that’s pathetic. Knows if any of her friends saw her like this, they’d tell her to get over it. To delete the number. To go back out, hook up with someone who’s actually available, actually wants her. But the thing is he did want her. At least, he made her think he did. The way he kissed her that night. The way he whispered things into her skin like he meant them.

“You feel so good, baby… fuck… I missed you…”

She squeezes her eyes shut like that’ll stop the echo.

It doesn’t.

Her throat burns as she shifts on her side, curling her knees up. The silence around her buzzes. The worst part is, no one knows. No one really knows what happened. Not the way she does. Not how bad it messed her up. Because to everyone else, they were just friends.

Back to friends.

“The girl in the mirror’s a stranger…”

She’s not even sure what she’s holding onto anymore. It’s not just him. It’s who she was with him. When she was laughing at his jokes, tugging his sleeve in crowded places, letting her knees bump into his under the table and pretending it was nothing. When she could just look at him and feel like she wasn’t too much. Now? She’s quiet all the time. She flinches when her phone rings.

She stares at the screen again.

Should she? Just one message. Not even anything deep. Just a toe-dip. A temperature check. A way to confirm she didn’t imagine it all. That she wasn’t some dumb, desperate girl who turned a moment into a meaning. Her thumbs type it before she can talk herself out of it.

“Are you up?”

There’s a pause.

Long enough for her stomach to sink. Her hand hovers over the delete button.

Then—

Luigi: yeah. you okay.

She reads it twice. Three times. The words are simple. Polite. But it’s the period at the end that guts her. Not a question mark. Not a dumb little emoji he used to throw in. Just a flat, careful sentence. Like he’s scared of saying the wrong thing. She bites the inside of her cheek and types:

You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I know it’s late.

Delivered.

Three dots appear almost immediately.

Then stop.

Start again.

Stop.

Her stomach twists.

Luigi: no i want to.

Luigi: just surprised

Her fingers hover again. She exhales through her nose, thumb flicking up to scroll their last conversation—months ago now. The last thing she sent was a meme. Something stupid. Something she thought would break the silence. He hearted it but never replied.

“It’s so hard when I keep ’em so far… happens when I go dark…”

Her: I didn’t know who else to text. I didn’t even think.

Her: I just felt like I was gonna spiral and your name popped up.

She sends it before she can overthink. And it’s true. She hadn’t planned this. She didn’t put on mascara and reread old texts and wait for the right moment. It was just him. Him, at 2:11 in the morning, still living in the part of her brain that never shut up.

Luigi: do you want me to call you?

Her breath catches.

Her: no

Her: sorry i mean

Her: not yet. i don’t wanna cry

She stares at the screen. Regret already in her chest. But then:

Luigi: okay

Luigi: i won’t push

Luigi: you know i’m here, right?

Her hand covers her mouth. Because that line? That’s the one that hurts the most.

She doesn’t reply for two minutes.

Her: i know

Her: it’s just been hard

Her: not just because of you. i’ve been off lately. kinda feel like i’m floating above myself all the time

Her: and everything’s loud

Her: or nothing at all

It takes him a second.

Luigi: i know that feeling

Luigi: you wanna talk about it? or you just wanna vent

She blinks.

Her: i just wanna feel like myself again

Another long pause. She thinks maybe that’s the end of it. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she should’ve just cried it out and gone to sleep.

Luigi: you’re still you

Luigi: you’re just hurting

Luigi: and i’m sorry if i made it worse

TWO NIGHTS LATER

She doesn’t mean to text him again. She swore she wouldn’t. But she’s walking home from a party alone and her chest’s too tight, her ears are ringing, and someone had mentioned his name in passing.

“Didn’t he used to be close with her?”

Used to be.

Her: do you ever miss it?

It’s 1:38 AM. She’s already home by the time he replies.

Luigi: miss what?

She reads it five times. Tries to be brave. Fails.

Her: us

Her: not even that night. just like. all of it.

Her: when it was easy

He doesn’t answer right away. She watches the typing bubble flicker on and off. Like he’s fighting himself.

Luigi: every fucking day

She sits on the floor of her bathroom for the next ten minutes just staring at that. Her legs feel weak. Like the words knocked something loose inside her.

“I’m so unsteady…”

She types something else. Deletes it. Tries again.

Her: i’m trying to forget it happened

Her: but i can’t. i don’t think i want to

He’s quiet again. It’s a pattern now. The waiting. The wondering.

Luigi: i haven’t touched anyone since you

Luigi: i can’t

Luigi: it’d feel like lying

Her stomach flips. But it’s not butterflies it’s nausea. Because this hurts. Because she wants to scream at him.

“Then why did you let me go?”

But all she types is

Her: why are you saying this now

Luigi: because you texted me

Luigi: and i don’t know how to be around you without wanting more

Luigi: and that’s the problem right?

She lets it sit. Lets it burn.

And finally, her reply

Her: no

Her: the problem is you only want more when you’re losing me

12:47 AM

It’s cold. The kind of cold that creeps into your sleeves and under your jeans and settles in your bones. She’s been standing in front of his building for two minutes, pacing. Thinking.She doesn’t text him.She buzzes his number.

The intercom clicks on.

Luigi: “Hello?”

(he sounds half-asleep. or just surprised. maybe both.)

She doesn’t say her name. Just

“It’s me.”

A pause. Then the door buzzes open. She walks up the stairs like she’s being pulled. Like some part of her body is moving ahead of her. Her heart’s pounding so loud it makes her nauseous.He opens the door before she can knock. He looks like him. Barefoot. T-shirt. That same tired, messy hair.

And the second their eyes meet she almost turns around but she doesn’t.She walks in. Stands near the middle of the room. Arms crossed

“You didn’t fight for me.”

That’s the first thing she says.His mouth opens. Closes. He looks like he might say hi, or I didn’t know you were coming, or you look—

“You didn’t fucking fight for me, Luigi.”

Her voice cracks on his name. But she doesn’t stop.

“You left me in your bed like it never happened. Like we could just pretend. You let me walk out and you didn’t say anything. Not one thing.”

“I was scared.”

“So was I!”

She laughs. Sharp. Bitter.

“Do you know how many times I typed out a text and deleted it? How many times I told myself it didn’t mean anything when I felt everything? You made me feel insane.”

He takes a step forward. She steps back.

“I touched you and I knew it was over. I knew that was gonna be the end of us.”

“I didn’t want it to be.”

“But it was,” she snaps. “Because you didn’t stop it. You didn’t do anything.”Her throat tightens again. But this time, the tears start. “I needed you. And you disappeared.” He looks like he wants to speak. But she cuts him off again. Her voice is quieter now. But it hits harder. “I’m not a warm-up. I’m not your almost. I’m not the girl you get over.”

“You’re not,” he says immediately. “You’re not.”

“Then what am I?”

She’s staring at him now. Wide-eyed. Bare-faced. Raw.

“Tell me. Right now. What was I?”

She’s crying now. Quietly, but fully. Shoulders tense, breath uneven, hands trembling at her sides.And he’s just staring at her like she’s the only thing in the world that makes sense anymore.

“What was I to you, Luigi?”

Silence—Then “Everything.”

His voice is low. Rough. Immediate. “You were everything. You are everything. I just didn’t know how to say it without fucking it all up.”

She turns her head. Wipes her face.

“That’s bullshit.”

“I know.”

He steps forward again. Slower this time. She doesn’t move.

“I was scared. Not of you—of what it meant. Because the second I kissed you that night, I knew it wasn’t casual. I knew if I let myself want you, I’d never stop.”

“So you ghosted me instead?”

“No.”

His voice breaks on that.

“I replay that night every fucking day. Not just the sex. The way you looked at me. The way you pulled my hoodie on after and smiled like you were mine. You were mine. You still feel like mine.”

Her lip quivers. But she still shakes her head.

“You don’t get to say that.”

“Why not?”

He’s closer now. Voice rising. Not yelling. Just desperate.

“Why not, if it’s true?”

“Because I needed you and you didn’t show up.”

“I’m showing up now.”

She stares at him. Really stares And then says “Too late.”

And walks out.

1:11 AM

He’s frozen for a second. Like she knocked the air out of him.Then he moves. Barefoot, he jogs after her, catching her halfway down the stairs.

“Wait—wait. Please.”

She doesn’t stop.

“Baby.”

That’s what finally does it. She pauses. On the landing. Shoulders shaking.He catches up to her and grabs her wrist—gentle but firm

“Please don’t leave. Not like this. Not when I just got you back. Not when I haven’t even kissed you properly yet.”

Her eyes are red. Lips parted. Chest heaving.

“You said I was everything.”

“You are.”

“Then show me.”

She says it like a dare. Like she’s begging him to call her bluff. And for a second, he just stands there. Chest rising fast. Jaw tense. Eyes locked on hers.

Then he moves.

In three steps he’s in front of her, pulling her back inside with one hand behind her neck, the other slamming the door shut. And the second they’re alone again—he grabs her face and devours her.It’s not slow. It’s not soft. It’s teeth and tongue and desperation. He kisses her like he’s been drowning without her. Like her mouth is oxygen. Like the taste of her is the only thing keeping him upright. Her hands fist in his shirt, tugging hard, mouth parting as she lets out a broken whimper. He groans deep in his chest at the sound, like he’s starving for it.

“You think I stopped wanting you?”

“You think I didn’t fuck my fist thinking about this mouth?”

“You’ve been in my head every single night—”

She gasps as he presses her against the door, grinding his hips into hers. She can feel him through his sweats—thick and hard and already leaking for her.

“Then why didn’t you do anything?” she pants, eyes glassy.

His forehead presses against hers. He breathes hard.

“Because I knew if I had you again… I’d never let you go.”

He grabs her thighs, lifts her, and her legs wrap around him like instinct. She moans into his mouth as he carries her to the bedroom, dropping her on the bed like she’s weightless.

“Take off your shirt,” she whispers.

He does. Quick. Messy. That same body she remembered—toned, warm, veined arms flexing as he reaches for her. Then his fingers slip under her top.

“Let me see you,” he murmurs. “Let me see what I’ve been missing.” She shivers as he peels her clothes off, slow and reverent now. He kisses down her chest, her ribs, her stomach. His hands trail her curves like he’s trying to relearn every inch of her body. And when she’s finally bare beneath him, legs spread, breathing shallow—

He just stares.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathes. “I didn’t deserve you.”

“Then earn it,” she says, voice wrecked.

He lines up, presses the tip of his cock through her folds—slow, teasing, dragging it up and down until she whines.

“You want it?”

“Say it. Tell me you still want me.”

“I need you,” she gasps. “Please, Luigi—”

He pushes in—slow. All of him. Stretching her open inch by inch. They both groan. She claws at his back. He buries his face in her neck. “Still tight for me,” he whispers. “Still mine.” He starts moving—slow, deep thrusts. His hips grinding against hers, the friction perfect. She can feel everything. The way he twitches inside her. The way he watches her unravel.

“Look at me.”

“You remember how it felt?”

“You remember what it was like to be mine?”She nods, breath hitching, eyes wide and teary.“Then take it,” he growls. “Take everything.” He kisses her again. Hard. One hand slides down, rubs her clit just how she likes, and she shakes.

“You gonna cum already?” he pants, thrusts getting sharper.

“You missed me that bad, huh?”She moans his name. Loud. Broken. Her back arches.“That’s it,” he growls. “Cum for me, baby. Right here. On my cock.”

She does.

Hard. Clenching around him, legs wrapping around his waist, hips bucking as her orgasm tears through her. He fucks her through it, not stopping.“That’s one,” he mutters. “You’re not done.”

He flips her gently, hand on her back.“Face down. Ass up. Don’t move.”She whimpers but obeys—burying her cheek into the pillow, biting it as he spreads her thighs and slides back inside. “You don’t even know how bad I’ve missed this view.” His hand grips her waist. The other slides into her hair, pulling gently.then he snaps his hips forward—deep.

She cries out, high and raw.

“You missed being fucked like this, didn’t you?”

“No lights off. No condom. Just you and me and the way you fucking melt around me.” He pounds into her now—deep, rhythmic thrusts that make her thighs shake. His balls slap against her soaked skin. Her moans are wrecked. Open-mouthed. Raw.

“I’m gonna cum,” he pants. “I’m gonna fucking cum inside you—”

“Yes,” she gasps. “Yes, Luigi, please—”

He loses it.Grabs her tighter. Buries himself deep and cums hard. With a low, guttural moan, he presses his chest to her back, kissing her shoulder as he fills her.They stay like that. Breathing heavy. Connected. Then he whispers, voice hoarse “I love you.”

2:04 AM

His body’s still pressed to her back, skin damp, chest rising and falling against her shoulder blades. Neither of them speaks for a while. She’s face-down, completely bare, still catching her breath.Her thighs are trembling. There’s cum leaking out of her, sticky between her legs, and the sheets are a mess. But he hasn’t pulled away. His hand is still on her hip, thumb rubbing circles into her skin like he’s scared to let go.

“You okay?” he whispers against her neck. She just nods. Quiet. Dazed. “Talk to me,” he murmurs. “Did I hurt you?”

She turns her head, cheek pressed to the pillow. Her voice is hoarse when she says—

“No. You didn’t hurt me.”

You saved me.

He kisses her shoulder. Her neck. Her cheek.

Then slowly, he pulls out, and she winces at the emptiness. He whispers, “Sorry, baby,” and kisses her again before helping her roll over. She’s still flushed. Still trembling. And he looks at her like she’s holy.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmurs. “Don’t move.”

She watches him walk out, naked, flushed, hair a mess. Her legs are weak, her body sore, her lips swollen. She closes her eyes and breathes for the first time in what feels like months. He comes back with a warm washcloth and kneels between her legs. Doesn’t speak. Just cleans her up—slow, careful, gentle.

“You didn’t have to—“

“I want to.”

His hand lingers on her thigh when he finishes. Then he crawls into bed beside her, pulls the covers up, and wraps himself around her. “Can I hold you now?” he whispers, already dragging her into his chest. She doesn’t answer. Just nuzzles into him. And then—finally—she says it.

“I love you too.”

He exhales. Long and shaky. His arms tighten around her waist.

“Don’t leave again,” he whispers.

“I won’t.”

The Morning After

It’s warm. That’s the first thing she notices. Not the usual chill of her own apartment. Not the ache in her shoulders from curling up too tight. It’s heat—steady and solid—pressed against her back like a blanket she didn’t know she needed. And then there’s the other thing.His arm. Heavy around her waist. Wrapped like a promise.She opens her eyes slowly. The sheets are still rumpled. Her legs are still bare. Her thighs ache in that sore, quiet way—the kind that lingers after being taken apart. She can feel him, faintly, still inside her. Or maybe just the memory of it.She shifts, just a little, and—“Don’t go,” he mumbles into her hair. She freezes.He’s awake.His voice is thick, groggy. But his grip tightens around her like instinct, his nose nuzzling the back of her neck. He sounds like he hasn’t slept this good in months.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispers.

His hand slides down, over her stomach, to her hip. He kisses her shoulder softly, like he’s still not sure if she’s real.

“I thought I fucked everything up.”

“You almost did.”

She feels him smile against her skin.

“But I didn’t.”

“No,” she murmurs, fingers brushing over his. “You didn’t.”

They lay there in silence for a minute. The good kind. The kind where nothing hurts. Then he says “You remember last night?”

“Every second.”

“I meant it.”

She turns slightly so she can see his face. His eyes are soft, still sleepy, curls messy against his forehead.

“Me too.”

He kisses her slow this time. No tension. No fear. Just two people who’ve finally come back to what they should’ve never left.

“I kinda feel like an island…”

Not anymore.

[natihoneybee]

Kagi’s School Trip Buddy

Woahh okay everyone’s freaking out about chapter 31 dropping tonight/tomorrow (I am too). So in an attempt to calm my nerves, I tried to work on another theory post or whatever type of ramble this is.

Ughh idk idk OH MY GOD this was originally going to be a Hirano and Niibashi analysis post, but while looking for material I stumbled upon this INCREDIBLE easter egg and decided to prioritize this instead (fear not, I will get to Hirano and Niibashi’s dynamic later). Now this could be a stretch, but I’m pretty sure…

THIS CHANGES EVERYTHING I THOUGHT I KNEW ABOUT JEALOUS-KUN.

Based on the timeline in Hirano and Kagiura, Vol 1, chapter 3, we know that the second year students’ school trip happens in November. In The Second Years Light Novel, chapter 2 Kuresawa’s Flashback (The School Trip), we follow Kuresawa’s point of view on his second year school trip and there are several scenes about Kagiura. And while going through these parts in the book, Kagiura is discussing Hirano with a friend. And I have a suspicion that Kagiura is actually on the trip with Jealous-kun. I KNOW I KNOW, you’re probably thinking whaaat. But please hear me out.

Look at these passages from the Second Years Light Novel, pages 28-29 and 58-61.

Pages 28-29

I overheard someone saying, “Why’d you pick Hokkaido? I mean, I know it’s a little late to ask, but most of Class A went to Hawaii.” I guess one of the guys nearby was from Class A. It was a little unusual. The guy talking to him was obviously from some other class. Our school had a lot of different programs, which was part of what gave each class its own special character. I don’t want to say that was the whole reason so much of Class A had chosen to go overseas together, but that was part of it.

“Well, Hirano said he went to Hokkaido…”

“There you go talking about that ‘Hirano’ again! Who is he anyway?”

“Not telling.”

Hirano, like, Hirano? The upperclassman? I thought. I hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but my ears picked up that name specifically. It made me glance to the left.

Big: That was my first thought when I saw the guy nearby, the one who had mentioned Hirano. He was taller than I’d expected, maybe even taller than Sasaki.

~

Besides being taller than average, this person looked really… manly. I’d always assumed a seme would be the forceful go-getter of the two, but I realized now that an athletic type like this would make a pretty good partner, too.

Page 58

Just then, I heard another voice I thought I recognized. “Oh, someone gave me one of these once. So they really sell them here!” I hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but when someone is talking right next to you, it’s hard not to hear them.

“Hey, that’s the thing you’ve got on your phone. And it’s a limited edition–they only sell it here! Wow, it really exists! So that person you like got that for you?”

Intrigued by the mention of something limited-edition, I sneaked a peek at the shelf to find two guys looking at cell-phone charms in the shape of a weird-looking dog. It had a massive head, with a sort of afterthought of a body… it was a dog, wasn’t it?

“Yeah, that’s right,” said the tall guy. I thought he’d been in my car on the ropeway… i was pretty sure. In the daylight, he looked more muscular than he had that night; he definitely seemed like an athlete. His back was to me, so i couldn’t see who it was, but more striking than his build was his gentle voice.

“So what’s with this Hirano guy anyway? He’s cool and kind and sweet? I can hardly picture an older guy who would give someone a weird-ass thing like this.”

Hirano again?

“Huh…”

Page 60

“He’s supposed to be blond and handsome, right? I’d like to get a look at him!” the second guy said.

Blond? Blond! It all matched up too perfectly… As i was thinking, the line was moving, carrying me away from the two guys with the phone charms.

“Hmm… I think maybe you’ve seen him in the mornings,” the first guy said.

“Mornings? You mean, like, on television? Is he an actor?!”

“Yeah, no.”

If they were talking about the Hirano I was thinking of, then what was this about mornings? Mornings… greetings… What else happened in the mornings? Sometimes the Disciplinary Committee ran uniform inspections. Was that it? No, that was stretching it. Those inspections didn’t happen very often. But then again… I couldn’t reject an idea just because it seemed too convenient.

Page 61

That was when I noticed the two guys I'd overheard in line had moved to a shelf near the register.

“Hey, they sell earrings here. Is he still wearing the ones you got him?” the buddy asked.

“Uh-huh,” the athlete replied.

I felt a shock: That did it. Hirano… He wore earrings, didn’t he? Was this really right? Should I be taking a naughty little imagining like this seriously?

Who is Kagiura talking to here?

The guy from Class A that Kuresawa refers to is obviously Kagiura, but the guy he’s with is someone from a different class. Neither Class 2-A (Kagi’s class) or Class 2-B (kuresawa, tashiro, miyano’s class). So I’m assuming he must be from 2-C or 2-D (is there a Class D?), even though there hasn’t been much discussion yet about Class C or Class D.

Initially I thought it may be Niibashi, however, there’s no way it could be him either because:

This friend Kagi is talking to has no idea who Hirano is. With all the questions he’s asking and how frequently Hirano is coming up between these two, it almost seems like this friend just recently learned about Hirano and about Kagiura having a crush. Kagiura has talked Niibashi’s ear off over Hirano, and Niibashi has met Hirano before. Also, the way this friend is speaking and asking about Hirano, doesn’t sound like Niibashi.

We know Kuresawa would have recognized Niibashi if it was him. In Second Years Light Novel, chapter 3 (also from kuresawa’s pov), page 77 he mentions Niibashi, “The teacher did most of the instructing, with one student helping out as an assistant—Niibashi, a second-year from Class A. I knew him for his refined good looks.”

Kuresawa also notes that he “knew all [his] roommates in [their] six-person room (Second Years Light Novel, 36). That includes Miyano, Kuresawa (self), Tashiro, Karasubara, Shirahama, and Hiwatari. So, Kagiura’s friend couldn’t be Shirahama either or anyone else in this room.

We can conclude that Kagiura’s school trip buddy knows that an upperclassman named Hirano is Kagi’s crush, Kagi’s dog keychain was a gift from Hirano, and that Kagi gifted Hirano earrings.

Kagi tells his friend that he may have seen Hirano in the mornings. Kuresawa thinks to himself that it’s possible Kagi is referring to the Disciplinary Committee uniform inspections, but that the inspections didn’t happen very often and that was stretching it. But let’s remember: this is from Kuresawa’s perspective. It’s limited to what he knows. We know more about Hirano and Kagiura’s morning routines. So what else happens in the mornings? Well, Hirano and Kagiura study together, they sometimes eat breakfast together, and Kagiura goes to basketball practice in the morning. If Kagi is telling his friend he may have seen him in the mornings, then his friend must either live in the dorms as well (unlikely cause then he’d know who hirano is) or is on the basketball team with Kagi. It’s possible that come November, Hirano might stop by once in a while to watch Kagi’s morning practice.

Kagi’s School Trip Buddy is:

Possibly from Class C or D

Possibly someone from the dorms

Possibly from the basketball team

Someone Kagi has confided in about his love for Hirano

On pages 59 and in Bonus: A Short Little Something, we barely see Kagiura’s school trip buddy. From the front, his hair made me think he looked more like Muroi, but he’s a kouhai so he wouldn’t be on this trip. In the bonus chapter, the back of his head kinda reminded me of jealous-kun’s haircut from the back. Although, the color seems lighter than jealous-kun’s black hair. I wonder if Harusono did this on purpose to conceal Kagiura's friend’s face for now.



HiraKagi’s Relationship in November/School Trip Timeline

On page 28, Kagi’s school trip buddy asks him what Hirano is to Kagi, “Who is he anyway?” and Kagi answers “Not telling.” It’s possible that Hirano and Kagiura are:

trying a dating trial at this point

actually dating and are keeping it a secret

delaying making it official to stay roommates

actually did elope and are married and are secretly husbands while still in high school.

Tbh I wrote that last scenario as a joke, but then I remembered Hirano started wearing a ring on a necklace in OCTOBER. Hellooo that halloween extra where he’s all over kagi?! SECRET HUSBANDS.

If Kagiura goes on his school trip to Hokkaido with jealous-kun, they may actually be really good friends at this point in November. Like I think maybe we’re looking at a rivals (one-sided on jealous-kun’s part) to friends development in the late summer. Whoever Kagi is buddied up with on the school trip is clearly someone he trusts enough to talk in depth about his crush on Hirano and is someone who is kind and understanding of Kagiura liking a guy. Anyway, I could be totally wrong about the school trip buddy being jealous-kun, but I think it is based on his character appearance growing and the timeline. Who knows, we might actually get a name for jealous-kun by the time we reach November in the HiraKagi timeline.

[metalmonki]

9-1-Scream Part 3

Buddie x Reader

4.5k word count

Summary When the new firefighter in the house Eddie Diaz becomes best friends with your boyfriend Evan Buckley you can't help but notice a change in him. A bad change. Late nights and hushed conversations are just the beginning of this thrill ride.

Eddie - Buck Murder Scream AU

Authors Note: I'm really not happy with this chapter or the pacing but if I sit on it much longer I'll never post it. I hope you enjoy reading it and I'm sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes I've been dealing with back to back migraines.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

The highway stretched out like a silver thread, the truck’s headlights cutting through the dark in rhythmic flashes. Eddie drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely on his thigh. The windows were down just enough to let in the night air — cool, dry, full of silence.

I sat in the passenger seat, arms folded, eyes fixed on the glow of the dash.

We hadn’t spoken since the fire. Since the kiss. Since that suggestion.

Bring Y/N in.

I hadn’t said yes. I hadn’t said no. I just hadn’t stopped thinking about it.

“I keep running the conversation in my head,” I finally said, voice low. “Telling her what we’ve been doing.”

Eddie’s eyes flicked toward me before returning to the road. “And?”

“And it doesn’t go well. In any version.”

“She’d hate us,” he said bluntly.

“Maybe. Or maybe she’d be terrified. Or maybe she’d report us.”

“She wouldn’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No,” he said. “But I do know she loves you.”

That shut me up for a minute. I looked out the window, watching the blur of street signs and empty gas stations. My fingers tapped a rhythm against my bicep — one I couldn’t place but couldn’t stop.

“I love her too,” I said. “But this… what we’re doing? I don’t think love survives this. Not unless she’s in it with us.”

Eddie exhaled slowly. “Then maybe we don’t start there.”

I turned my head. “What do you mean?”

He kept his eyes on the road, but his voice was sure. “I mean, maybe instead of dropping everything on her like a bomb, we start with what we do want her to be a part of.”

I frowned. “And what’s that?”

“You and me.”

My stomach twisted — not from nerves, not from fear. Something warmer. Stranger. Something that felt like hope, even now.

“You think she’d say yes?”

“I think she’s already wondering,” Eddie said. “You said it yourself — she knows something’s going on. She just thinks it’s dangerous. What if she knew it was us?”

“Us?” I asked, my voice quieter now.

“You and me. Together. With her.”

I stared at him. “You’re saying we ease into this by… what? Asking her to date both of us?”

He chuckled once, dry but real. “It sounds ridiculous out loud, but yeah. She loves you. I trust her. And maybe if she sees how serious we are — how real this is — she won’t run when we tell her the rest.”

It was wild. Insane.

But not impossible.

Y/N always knew my heart better than I did. And the way she’d been watching Eddie lately — not suspiciously, but softly, quietly — it hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“If we do this…” I started, “we have to mean it.”

Eddie nodded. “We already do.”

I looked down at my hands. Burn-free. Steady. Capable of terrible things, but also this — maybe this.

“I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” I said.

Eddie’s eyes flicked to me again. “No pressure?”

“No pressure,” I said with a small smile. “But maybe a lot of hope.”

He grinned. “That’s the Buck I know.”

We drove the rest of the way in silence, but it wasn’t heavy anymore.

It was ready.

…

The smell of coffee filled the kitchen, warm and familiar. Y/N stood at the stove, flipping scrambled eggs with one hand while scrolling through something on her phone with the other. She looked tired, like she hadn’t slept much — like maybe the conversation from last night was still clawing at the back of her mind.

I sat at the counter, nursing my mug and trying not to look like a man who’d burned masks and bodies a few hours ago.

“Toast?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever’s easiest.”

She dropped a few slices into the toaster and turned back to the eggs. “So… how was the game?”

There it was. The test. She wasn’t asking casually — not really.

I smiled like I wasn’t hiding anything and leaned forward, elbows on the counter. “It was good. Lakers won in overtime. Chris was bouncing off the walls the whole time. He got popcorn everywhere.”

She gave a little laugh at that. “Sounds like him.”

“Yeah,” I said, nodding slowly. “He passed out on the drive home. Eddie had to carry him inside.”

The lie came so easily I hated how natural it felt. Like putting on the mask had rewired something in me.

She plated the eggs and dropped the toast beside it, sliding the dish across to me as she took the stool next to mine. “I’m glad you guys had fun.”

I looked at her — really looked. The soft curl of her mouth, the quiet worry behind her eyes. She wasn’t pushing, but she was watching.

So I pushed back… in a different way.

“Eddie’s good,” I said, picking at the corner of my toast. “You know, with Chris. With everything.”

She hummed a little. “He always has been.”

I nodded slowly. “It’s been… different lately. Me and him.”

Her brow lifted slightly. “Different how?”

I shrugged, tried to make it sound offhand, but even I heard the weight in my voice. “Just… closer. Like, really close. I don’t know how to explain it without sounding dumb.”

Y/N set her fork down gently. “Try me.”

I stared into my coffee for a second. The steam had mostly faded, but the warmth still lingered.

“It’s like… I’ve always loved him, you know? As a friend. A partner. But lately I’ve been thinking about him differently. Wondering if maybe… maybe I’m in love with him.”

The words hung there between us.

I didn’t look at her right away. I couldn’t. My heart was thudding way too fast for a man eating scrambled eggs.

When I finally met her eyes, she wasn’t angry. Or shocked. She just looked… still.

“You think you’re in love with Eddie?” she asked carefully.

“Yeah,” I said, voice quieter now. “I think I am.”

She didn’t speak right away.

And I didn’t press. I just waited.

Y/N blinked. Once. Twice. Then looked away, and I could practically see the gears turning behind her eyes.

I sat perfectly still, like moving too fast might crack the moment wide open.

“So… does that mean…” Her voice wavered, just barely. “Are you breaking up with me?”

Her shoulders had tensed, her hands gripping the edge of the counter like she needed it to anchor herself. Her breathing shifted — shorter, sharper.

Panic.

“No,” I said immediately, my fork forgotten, breakfast untouched. “No. No, Y/N. God, no.”

She looked at me again, and her eyes were glassy, that perfect storm of confusion and fear. “Then what are you saying, Buck? You just told me you think you’re in love with someone else.”

“I am in love with him,” I said, then softened my voice. “But I’m in love with you too.”

She stared at me like I’d grown a second head. “That’s not how this works.”

“I know,” I said. “And I didn’t mean to just drop it on you like this, not without thinking it through. But I’ve been thinking it through. For weeks. And I didn’t want to keep it from you anymore.”

She stood up from the stool and crossed the kitchen, running a hand through her hair. “You’re serious.”

“Yeah.”

“And this isn’t you trying to… what? Let me down gently?”

“No.” I got up, moved toward her — slowly, like approaching a wild animal that might bolt. “I’m not trying to let you down. I’m trying to tell you that I’m not letting you go. I love you. That hasn’t changed. That won’t change.”

She swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the floor. “Then what do you want from me?”

I exhaled, stepped just a little closer.

“I want to ask you something. And I know it’s a lot, and I know it might sound crazy, but I need you to hear me out first.”

She didn’t respond. Just nodded, once, tightly.

“What do you think about Eddie?”

That got her attention. Her head snapped up, eyebrows drawing tight. “What?”

“I mean, really,” I said. “What do you think of him? When it’s just you and him. When you’re not thinking about us.”

She hesitated.

And that hesitation said more than words.

I reached out, brushing my fingers against her wrist gently. “Because I’ve seen the way you look at him, Y/N. And I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

She didn’t pull away.

But she didn’t speak yet either.

“I’m not asking you to give me an answer right now,” I said softly. “I just want you to think about it. About what it might look like if this didn’t have to be one or the other. If it could be all of us. Together.”

Y/N looked at me, eyes wide, heart breaking and bending at the same time.

I didn’t know if I’d just pulled us closer… or blown everything apart.

…

The firehouse looked the same as always — red truck gleaming out front, muffled laughter drifting from the kitchen, the faint smell of coffee and old smoke lingering in the halls. It should’ve felt like routine.

But nothing about walking in next to Y/N felt normal today.

She didn’t look at me. Didn’t brush her hand against mine like she always did. Just walked two steps ahead, uniform crisp, eyes forward. Cold but not angry. Numb.

That was worse.

I watched her disappear into the locker room without a word. My stomach turned like it was tied in knots soaked in gasoline.

I turned on my heel and found Eddie near the rig, checking over the equipment like it was any other shift. Calm. Focused. Like he hadn’t helped me erase a life hours ago.

“Hey,” I said, voice low. “Got a minute?”

He glanced over his shoulder, clocked the tension in my face instantly. He set the clipboard down and motioned toward the side bay.

We stepped into the quiet corner of the truck bay, away from the others.

“She knows something’s up,” I started. “Not the secret. Not that far. But she knows something’s changed.”

Eddie raised a brow. “Did you tell her?”

“Kind of.” I let out a breath, rubbed the back of my neck. “I told her I might be in love with you.”

His eyes flickered — a quiet flash of surprise, then something unreadable. “Might?”

I shot him a look. “Don’t start.”

He smirked, but it faded quickly. “And?”

“And she panicked,” I said. “Asked if I was breaking up with her. Looked at me like I set the whole world on fire and just walked away from it.”

“She still came to work.”

“Yeah. We haven’t said a word since breakfast. Not even a glance. I don’t know, man — I think I blew it.”

Eddie was quiet for a beat. Then he reached out, grabbed my shoulder, steady and sure.

“Leave it to me.”

I blinked. “What?”

“I’ll talk to her.”

“Eddie—”

He shook his head. “You’re too close to it. You’re overthinking every second. Let me try.”

“And say what? That you love her too? That we’re just one giant emotional disaster waiting to happen?”

He gave a soft, crooked smile. “Something like that.”

I looked at him. Really looked. Calm. Unshaken. Like he knew exactly what to say and exactly how to say it.

Maybe he did.

I let out a sigh and nodded. “Alright. She trusts you.”

“She trusts both of us,” Eddie said, walking past me. “We just have to prove she still can.”

And with that, he headed toward the locker room — toward her.

I stayed back, heart hammering like we were running into a fire.

Because in a way, we were.

…

Y/N’s P.O.V

I didn’t slam my locker door, but I wanted to.

Hen and Chimney were mid-conversation about some viral rescue video when I walked in. They paused, almost in sync, eyes flicking toward me. I didn’t say anything—just shoved my bag into the locker and started pulling on my turnout pants like it was any other shift.

But Hen’s eyes didn’t leave me. She was quiet for a moment, then said, “Alright. What happened?”

I paused with my jacket half on. “What?”

“You’re tense,” she said simply. “Like, ‘I might punch a wall’ tense. Which isn’t your usual vibe.”

Chim, already lacing up his boots, chimed in, “Unless it’s Buck-related. Which—no offense—this feels like it is.”

I tried to laugh it off. “You two are dramatic.”

Hen folded her arms. “Y/N.”

That was all it took. My shoulders dropped. The breath I’d been holding escaped before I could catch it.

“He told me this morning he thinks he’s in love with Eddie.”

There was silence for a beat. Like a record skipping mid-song.

Chim blinked. “I—what?”

Hen’s brows lifted so high they practically touched her hairline. “He what?”

I nodded slowly, arms crossed tightly across my chest. “We were having breakfast. He was telling me about the game, acting like everything was normal, and then out of nowhere he just says it. That he thinks he might be in love with Eddie.”

Hen whistled low. “Damn.”

Chim looked like he didn’t know whether to be shocked or impressed. “Well, okay, that’s… a thing.”

“And not even the worst part,” I muttered, staring at the floor. “When I asked if he was breaking up with me, he said no. Said he’s in love with me, too. Then asked me what I think about Eddie. Like—what does that even mean?”

Hen sat down on the bench beside me. “Sounds like he’s trying to open a door to something bigger.”

“You think he’s testing me?” I asked, frowning.

“I think he’s terrified,” Hen said. “Of losing you. Of whatever’s going on between him and Eddie. Of not knowing how to fit those two parts of his life together without it exploding in his face.”

“Too late,” I muttered.

Chim’s voice softened a little. “Do you feel something for Eddie?”

I hesitated. Long enough for them to read everything I didn’t say.

Hen reached out, touched my arm gently. “Hey. It’s okay if you do. It’s also okay if you don’t. But Buck clearly sees something real between all three of you.”

I shook my head. “It’s too much. I haven’t even wrapped my head around what I want yet, and now I feel like I’m supposed to decide for all of us.”

Hen smiled faintly. “Then don’t decide anything. Not today. Just… let them talk to you. Let it be messy.”

Chim clapped a hand on my shoulder. “And if it does explode, we’ll help clean it up.”

I managed a small laugh. “Thanks.”

Just as I grabbed my jacket, the locker room door creaked open.

Eddie.

He scanned the room, eyes locking on mine instantly. “Y/N. Got a minute?”

Hen and Chim both looked at me.

I nodded, heart already thudding like it knew what was coming.

Eddie didn’t speak right away.

He waited until the door clicked shut behind us, the muffled sounds of Hen and Chim fading into the background. The firehouse felt still in a way it rarely did — like it knew something delicate was about to unfold.

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, but there was no tension in his stance. Just patience. A quiet steadiness that somehow made everything feel less like freefall.

“I’m guessing Buck told you,” he said softly.

I nodded. “About the basketball game? Yeah. He gave me the full play-by-play.”

That earned a small smile — just a flicker. Then it faded.

“No,” he said. “About me.”

I looked at him. “Yeah. That too.”

He shifted slightly, glancing down the hallway, then back to me. “I didn’t plan on this. Us. Any of this. I didn’t even realize what I felt until he said it out loud. And then it just… clicked. Like I’d been holding my breath for months and didn’t know why.”

His voice stayed low. Gentle. Honest.

“I love him,” he said. “And I care about you. A lot more than I probably should, considering you were his long before this got complicated.”

I swallowed hard. “You’re not making it easier.”

“I’m not trying to,” he said. “I just want to be honest. You deserve that.”

I didn’t know what to say. My heart was still recovering from this morning’s blow, and now here came another — softer, but no less devastating.

“And Buck?” I asked. “What does he want?”

He shrugged, a quiet laugh under his breath. “Buck wants everything. And for once… I don’t think that’s selfish. I think it’s hopeful.”

I looked away, trying to steady the rush behind my ribs. “I don’t know what I want, Eddie. I don’t know if I can give either of you what you’re asking.”

“You don’t have to.” His voice was firm now, grounding. “Not today. Not ever, if that’s how it goes.”

I met his eyes again.

“I’m not asking you to choose,” he continued. “I’m not asking you to define anything. But if you want—just the two of us—we can grab dinner after shift. Not a date. Not a thing. Just… a conversation. You and me. No pressure. No expectations. Just talk. And see what happens.”

I searched his face for anything hidden, anything manipulative.

But there was nothing there but kindness.

I nodded slowly. “Okay.”

A soft smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Okay.”

He pushed off the wall and started back toward the bay, then glanced over his shoulder.

“And for the record,” he added, “you looked like you wanted to punch someone when you walked in. Glad it wasn’t me.”

That made me laugh — really laugh — for the first time all day.

And for a second, just a second, it didn’t feel like everything was falling apart.

It felt like something might actually be beginning.

…

The dinner rush had already come and gone by the time we arrived, which was exactly what I needed. No noise. No distractions. Just low lighting, the soft clink of silverware, and the steady presence of Eddie sitting across from me in a booth tucked into the far corner.

He looked good — but Eddie always did. Clean shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms, jaw still sharp from the shift, like he hadn’t fully relaxed yet. Maybe he couldn’t.

Honestly? Neither could I.

The waiter brought water and bread without asking. We hadn’t even opened the menus yet.

“This okay?” he asked, eyes meeting mine.

I nodded. “Yeah. It’s perfect.”

He smiled, barely. “Good.”

We sat in silence for a moment, the kind that wasn’t awkward but careful. Measured. Like neither of us wanted to step too far in the wrong direction.

Eventually, I spoke. “I thought about not coming.”

Eddie nodded. “I figured.”

“But then I thought about how weird everything’s been lately. The late nights. The way Buck’s been quieter when he thinks I’m not paying attention. The way you look at me when you think I’m not.”

He smiled at that, just barely.

“I didn’t come here for answers,” I added. “I came because… I’m tired of pretending I don’t see what’s happening.”

Eddie leaned back a little, arms folding on the table.

“Me too,” he said quietly. “But I meant what I said earlier. I’m not asking you to make a decision. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.”

I raised an eyebrow. “So what are you asking?”

He took a breath, eyes locked on mine. “I’m asking for honesty. About what you want. About what you feel. About what’s possible, even if it doesn’t make sense yet.”

God, he always knew how to cut straight through the noise.

I twisted the water glass between my hands. “It scares me. That I could care about two people like this. That I already do.”

He didn’t flinch. “It scares me too.”

There was a long pause. The kind that made you breathe differently.

“I don’t know what to call this,” I said.

“You don’t have to,” he replied. “We’re not here to put a label on it. We’re just here.”

“Here,” I echoed. “Right.”

Another moment passed, then he reached across the table — slow, deliberate — and let his fingers brush against mine.

I didn’t pull away.

We sat like that, no expectations, just a soft connection between two people caught in something bigger than either of them planned.

“I don’t know what happens next,” I whispered.

He gave a gentle smile. “Then let’s figure it out. Together.”

And somehow, with just those few words, the weight in my chest lightened— Not gone. But manageable.

We ordered dinner. We talked. We laughed a little.

And for the first time in days, I didn’t feel like I was drowning.

I felt like I was learning how to breathe again.

The pasta had gone cold on my plate, untouched between bursts of soft conversation and long silences. I kept meaning to eat, but something in me couldn’t focus on anything except the man across from me and the steady, careful way he was still holding my hand like he wasn’t sure how long I’d let him.

Eddie cleared his throat, shifting a little in his seat. I could feel it coming before he spoke — something heavier.

“I want to tell you something else,” he said gently. “Not because I think it’ll fix anything, but because I owe you the truth.”

I looked at him, suddenly bracing without meaning to. “Okay.”

He rubbed a thumb across the back of my hand. “The reason Buck and I have been spending so much time together… the reason you’ve felt left out lately… it wasn’t just about the game. Or helping me move. Or any of the things we said.”

I blinked. “So… it was a lie.”

He winced slightly. “A cover. For something we didn’t know how to explain yet.”

I didn’t let go of his hand, but I pulled back just enough to straighten in my seat. “Explain what?”

“At first,” he said, “it was just two friends hanging out. Two guys with shared trauma, who understood things without having to say them out loud. We were helping each other. Venting. Laughing. Getting through it.”

I nodded. “I figured that much.”

“But somewhere in all that,” he continued, voice softer now, “we both started to realise… it was more than that. That what we felt—what I felt—it wasn’t just friendship anymore. And that scared the hell out of both of us.”

He looked down, just for a second. When he looked back up at me, his voice was almost a whisper.

“Then we realised we were both falling for you too. And that’s where we got stuck. We didn’t know how to tell you. Or even if we should.”

I swallowed around the tightness in my throat. “So you lied instead.”

“We didn’t want to,” he said quickly. “But we didn’t want to risk losing you either. Not until we knew if this—us, all of us—was something worth saying out loud.”

The words landed hard. Not because they hurt, but because I could feel the weight they’d been carrying — the guilt, the confusion, the hope.

“And now?” I asked.

He let out a breath. “Now we’re done hiding. At least, I am. I told Buck I’d handle this because I needed you to know that I’m not just following his lead. I want this. You. Whatever version of this life you can imagine that includes me… I want to try.”

The restaurant buzzed gently in the background — soft voices, dishes clinking, quiet music.

But all I could hear was Eddie.

I didn’t answer him. Not yet. I wasn’t ready.

But I didn’t pull away, either.

And maybe, for tonight, that was enough.

…

The scent of coffee and floor polish hit me the second I stepped inside. Busy as always — phones ringing, officers moving from desk to desk, printers whirring, half-eaten pastries on napkins. Organized chaos.

I spotted Athena through the glass of her office, glasses perched low on her nose as she scribbled something into a file. She looked up right as I knocked on the frame.

“Y/N,” she said, brows lifting. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I replied, stepping in. “Just… needed a minute. You got one?”

She studied me for half a second — enough to catch whatever was still sitting behind my eyes — then closed the folder with a soft thump.

“Sit,” she said, gesturing to the chair across from her. “You look like you’ve been pacing through your own brain since sunrise.”

I let out a tired laugh as I sank into the seat. “That obvious?”

“Please,” she said with a smirk. “I raised two teenagers. You don’t scare me.”

I smiled, but it faded fast.

“I think I owe you an apology,” I said. “For that night at the barbecue. What I said about Buck and Eddie… I think I read too much into it.”

Athena leaned back, watching me carefully. “Alright. What changed?”

I sighed and folded my hands in my lap. “Buck told me he’s in love with Eddie. And me. And Eddie… pretty much said the same thing. That the reason they’ve been distant was because they didn’t know how to tell me. Not because they were hiding something dangerous, just… emotional.”

She gave a quiet nod, not surprised — not exactly.

“And how do you feel about that?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Part of me’s still reeling. Another part feels… relieved? Like I finally have the full picture. And then there’s this other part that’s terrified I’m about to make the biggest mistake of my life if I even consider saying yes to both of them.”

Athena smiled, warm and knowing. “You’re not the first woman to be torn between two good men.”

“I don’t want to be torn,” I said. “I just want to do the right thing. I don’t want to hurt Buck. I don’t want to mislead Eddie. And I don’t want to pretend I don’t feel something for both of them, because… I do.”

Athena stood and crossed to the coffee machine in the corner. “You’re looking for a clean solution to a messy situation,” she said, pouring two cups. “But love’s never clean. It’s raw. It’s human. And sometimes, it asks for things we weren’t raised to believe are possible.”

She handed me a cup and returned to her seat. “The only real mistake you can make is lying to yourself. The rest? That’s just figuring it out as you go.”

I stared into the coffee like it might hold an answer.

It didn’t.

But Athena’s words lingered, and they mattered more than she probably knew.

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

She reached over, gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “Whatever you decide — you’ve got people who love you. That’s a gift, Y/N. Don’t run from it just because it doesn’t come wrapped the way you expected.”

I nodded.

And for the first time since all of this started… I felt like maybe I wasn’t drowning anymore.

Just floating in uncharted water.

Tag list!:

@kitkat1690

[thedevillsmaid]

late night glitch - heeseung

━ ₊˚⊹ pairing: heeseung x fem!reader

━ ⋆.˚ genre: best friends brother

━ ₊˚⊹ word count: 2K

━ ⋆.˚ warnings: smut, sleepy sex, mutual masturbation, handjob, unprotected sex, creampie, spooning to mating press, size kink, dirty talk, mild degradation, praise kink, alcohol use, semi-public sex (with someone in the next room), secret sex, slow burn if you squint - fast burn if you don’t

━ ⋆.˚ A/N: inspired by heeseungs 2023 en-log with his brother~ taglist

⋆˚࿔—minors dni | 18+ only | nsfw—⋆˚࿔

⋆˚꩜｡ ──── REBLOG FOR XO ! HUGS & KISSES

It started with a text.

heedo: yo wanna hang w me n my bro today? ramen run > gaming cafe > karaoke u in?

I blinked at the screen and smiled. Heedo and I had gotten close fast—like magnets, honestly. Ever since we’d met in freshman psych, the guy had a way of dragging me into weird little adventures, the kind that left me half-exhausted and grinning for hours afterward.

me: u know I’m always in. what time?

We met at campus convenience—me in a hoodie, messy hair, nothing impressive. Heedo was already there, his arm slung casually around a guy I didn’t recognize at first until he turned and gave me a sleepy grin.

“Y/n, this is my brother,” Heedo said, motioning with his chin. “Heeseung. Don’t let the dead eyes fool you. He’s got a soul somewhere in there.”

Heeseung arched a brow, lips twitching. “Hi.”

God. Hi had never sounded that nice. He was taller than Heedo, just a bit, but somehow… softer? Hair a little long, eyes sharp but lazy, like he’d rather be in bed than under the fluorescence of college ramen aisles. Heedo was firecracker energy; Heeseung was a smoldering coil waiting to heat up.

“You picking alcohol or do I?” I asked, glancing at Heedo.

“Obviously you. I always end up grabbing the gross beer.”

I turned to grab two bottles of soju, a pack of melon-flavored chasers, and a bunch of instant ramen. When I turned back, Heeseung was watching me. I mean, watching. His tongue poked briefly at the inside of his cheek, then he looked away.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The gaming café was loud, chaotic, everything it always was. Heedo kept dragging me to different shooters and rhythm games; Heeseung hung back, joining occasionally with lazy skill that somehow still kicked my ass in every round.

“You always this competitive?” he murmured once, leaning over after a win. His breath ghosted over my ear, slow and hot.

“Only when the prize is worth it.”

He just smirked.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

By karaoke, we were a little buzzed. Soju lit my limbs, made everything heavier and lighter at once. Heedo was belting out an old SHINee song, terribly off-key, while I collapsed into laughter against Heeseung’s side.

He didn’t move away.

“You’re not singing?” I asked him.

Heeseung looked down at me, eyes hazy but deliberate. “Only if you beg.”

I don’t know what possessed me—but I leaned up to whisper, “Sing for me.”

He didn’t. He just stared at me a second longer, then knocked back the rest of his shot and passed me another.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

We got home at 2:13 a.m.

Heedo’s place—technically his and Heeseung’s parents’ house—was huge and too quiet. His parents were gone for the week, something he’d mentioned offhand as we took off our shoes in the front hallway. I padded down the corridor in thick socks, swaying a bit.

“Y/n, you’re staying, right?” Heedo asked, already halfway to his room. “Guest futon’s in Heeseung’s room. I’d say crash in mine, but I’m a snorer and I don’t want you posting revenge videos tomorrow.”

“You do snore,” I laughed. “Fine. But if he snores, I’m coming back to your room.”

“Don’t bet on it,” Heeseung muttered behind me.

I turned to him, arching a brow. “You that confident, huh?”

He smirked, disappearing into the bedroom.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The room was dimly lit, cool, the scent of cedar and something faintly citrusy clinging to the walls. Heeseung had already tossed two futons onto the hardwood, one beside the other. He peeled off his hoodie and dropped it near the wall, leaving only a white tee clinging to the lean lines of his torso.

I pretended not to look.

I was in one of Heedo’s old oversized shirts—slightly wrinkled, just long enough to cover what it needed to. I tugged it lower, my bare legs shifting across the sheets as I sat down on my futon. Heeseung dropped beside me, close, too close. Our knees brushed.

We both froze.

“Need anything?” he asked, voice low.

“Mm.” I glanced down—right as the fabric of his sweatpants shifted, outlining something very not soft under the surface. His cock was thick, hardening. Maybe it had been already. Maybe I’d brushed him and hadn’t realized.

My eyes flicked to his face.

He was watching me again.

I tilted my head, lips curving. “That for me, Heeseung?”

He didn’t flinch. “You touching me do that.”

God, his voice—it was like warm honey and gravel.

“You get hard that easy?”

He shrugged. “You’re cute. Wearing that. Acting all innocent. It’s kind of sick, actually.”

I licked my lips, slow. “Then maybe I should fix it.”

Before he could answer, I reached over, palm grazing the bulge in his pants. He sucked in a breath. The fabric was thin. I could feel the heat of him, the sheer size. I rubbed slow circles, then pressed harder, fingers teasing his length through the cotton.

“Y/n…” he groaned, voice tight. “What are you doing?”

“Helping,” I whispered.

I slid my hand beneath the waistband, curling fingers around the thick, hot weight of him. He hissed through his teeth, his hips jerking subtly into my grip.

His cock was huge—veiny, heavy, the head flushed and slick already. I pumped him slow, letting my thumb brush over the tip. Heeseung’s hand clenched in the sheets, his body trembling.

“You’re seriously just—” he gasped, “—jerking me off? With my brother in the next room?”

“You want me to stop?”

He looked at me, eyes dark. “If you stop now, I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll wake him.”

My breath hitched.

I let go of his cock, pulled the shirt up over my head, and dropped it to the floor. Naked. Skin burning. I straddled him, watched his jaw clench as my thighs settled on either side of his waist.

“You gonna be quiet?” I whispered.

Heeseung’s hands gripped my hips like a death sentence.

“No.”

And then he was inside me.

I bit back a cry, eyes rolling back. Thick, stretching me open, deeper than I could’ve imagined. I rocked against him slow, skin slapping skin so faintly I prayed the walls were thick enough.

Heeseung moved like a goddamn predator. One hand slipped up my spine, pressing between my shoulder blades, guiding me to lean down. His lips found my neck, teeth grazing the pulse point as he thrust up harder.

Wet. Tight. Every inch of him carving me open. I whimpered.

“You like riding your best friend’s brother?” he growled against my ear. “Huh? That what you wanted?”

I nodded, barely coherent.

“Say it.”

“I like it—I like your cock—fuck, you feel so good—”

He rolled, pinning me beneath him, slamming into me harder now, grinding against that sweet spot until I was clawing at the sheets, legs trembling.

Heeseung bit down on my shoulder to muffle a groan.

I came first—shuddering, gasping, clenching around him. He followed moments later, spilling into me with a low grunt, eyes squeezed shut, hips jerking erratically as he emptied every last drop inside.

We lay there, chests heaving, the air thick with sweat and heat.

Somewhere down the hall, Heedo snored like a dying bear.

I looked up at Heeseung, dazed.

“Still think you don’t snore?”

He just smirked. “I make other kinds of noise.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the morning after~

The first thing I felt was warmth. Not just the blanket cocooning my legs or the sun filtering through the cracked blinds, but body heat—him.

Heeseung.

I blinked slowly, brain foggy, skin still humming from last night. At some point, the clothes had gone back on. My oversized shirt clung to my skin, now slightly damp from where Heeseung’s arm curled heavy around my waist. I was spooned into him, tucked under his chin. His breath was soft against the back of my neck, slow and even. Peaceful.

Then I felt it.

Thick. Hard. Pressed right against the curve of my ass.

He shifted in his sleep, and his hips rolled forward—grinding that growing morning wood right into me. I stifled a gasp, thighs clenching. I froze, unsure if he was awake, if he remembered, if he’d—

“Mmh,” he groaned low against my hair, voice sleep-rough and deep. “You feel so good.”

So he was awake. Or dreaming. Either way, I could feel him pulsing against me, cock straining against the soft gray fabric of his sweats, thick and already leaking.

I pushed back against him, just slightly. Just enough.

Heeseung let out a soft, strangled noise, one of his hands gliding down from my waist to slip between my thighs.

“No panties?” he whispered. “Fuck…”

“I didn’t wear any last night,” I murmured, voice still scratchy. “You didn’t seem to mind.”

His lips brushed my neck, slow. “I dreamed about you.”

“Was it dirty?”

His teeth scraped the skin behind my ear. “Woke up humping your ass. You tell me.”

I reached behind me, grinding against him harder. “You gonna do something about it?”

That was all it took.

He pulled back just enough to shove his sweats down, the thick length of him springing free and pressing directly against the slick heat between my thighs. His breath caught.

Then, without another word, he slipped inside.

Stretch.

Even slower than last night. Even deeper. He filled me to the brim with a lazy, unhurried thrust, groaning like he was sinking into warm heaven. I gasped, grabbing a fistful of the futon as he buried himself inside me from behind.

“I missed this,” he whispered, voice dark. “You soaked for me, baby?”

“Mmhmm.” I rocked back against him, whining softly as his cock dragged along my walls. “Don’t stop.”

“Not gonna.”

His arm snaked under me, pulling me back tighter against his chest. He was spooning me still, but now… thrusting slow, sleepy, grinding his hips with this possessive, almost tender rhythm. Like he was memorizing the feel of me again.

His free hand slipped down, fingers brushing my clit. He worked slow circles while his cock slid in and out, wet and obscene. My legs trembled.

“Heeseung—fuck—I’m close already—”

He nipped my shoulder. “Come for me, pretty thing. Soak my cock.”

I shattered—quieter this time, muffled by the pillow I bit into. Heeseung groaned deep and filthy, dragging me into a full-body shiver as he kept thrusting, pushing deeper, needier.

Then he moved.

Slid out. Grabbed my hips. Rolled me onto my back.

And slammed back into me in one hard thrust.

Now I was on the futon, legs open, his hands pushing my knees up, folding me into a messy, devastating mating press. His hips rolled with a lazy, practiced rhythm—like he could fuck me for hours just like this.

I gasped. “Hee—Heeseung—”

“You’re so tight in the morning,” he groaned, face hovering inches above mine. “Look at you. Fucked dumb already.”

I reached up to grab his face, dragging him down into a kiss—hot, open-mouthed, messy. He groaned into me, tongue sliding over mine as his cock thrust in deep, again and again, the tip hitting spots that made me see stars.

The futon creaked under us. Somewhere in the hallway, a floorboard groaned.

I froze.

Heeseung didn’t.

“Shhh,” he whispered against my lips, thrusting harder. “Just be quiet. You don’t want Heedo to hear you getting split open by his little brother, do you?”

I whimpered. He smirked.

“Say my name.”

“Heeseung—fuck—Heeseung—!”

He slammed in deeper. “Again.”

“Heeseung—!”

And that was it.

His hips stuttered, cock twitching deep inside me as he came with a soft, ragged moan. I felt it—hot and thick, filling me up all over again.

He collapsed against me, chest heaving, sweat dampening his shirt.

We lay there, tangled limbs and wet skin, breaths shallow.

Then—

KNOCK KNOCK

“Hey! You two up yet?” Heedo’s voice, groggy but clear. “I’m making eggs. Come get some before I eat them all.”

I choked on a laugh.

Heeseung groaned against my shoulder. “Yeah, we’re… up.”

“Oh, we’re up alright,” I whispered, squeezing around him with a wicked grin.

His answering thrust was slow, smug, and deep.

“Not done yet,” he growled.

© thedevillsmaid