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cherienymphe · 1 day ago

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The Ghost of Harding Manor

Friedrich Harding x Reader

Summary: Your marriage is haunted by the ghost of the wife who came before you, and the walls of Harding Manor bear witness to your husband's descent into madness.

warnings: Dub-Con, loss of virginity, obsession, unsure if stalking counts if it takes place in your own home, implied chronically ill!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

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You were not Anna.

You were reminded every day from the moment you wed Friedrich Harding and became his missus that you were not Anna. Anna who was perfect and said the right things and walked the right way and was a walking temptation to the man she called her husband. Anna who—even in death—called to Friedrich from beyond and was nearly successful if it were not for strong hands and strong voices keeping the dark-haired man from throwing himself into her coffin with her. Anna who was well on her way to giving your husband a third child.

Anna whose touch still lingered in this home and along these walls and in the long dead flowers that Friedrich refused to throw out.

Anna who haunted you much more than she haunted your new husband.

Illness had not just taken the angelic beauty, but her three children with her, one never even getting the chance to take his first breath. In your solitude, you sometimes thought that you did not know what was worse—their two daughters remaining and forcing you to fill the void the other woman left in multiple lives…or your life as it were as you were forced to give Friedrich a whole new family and reason for existing.

You knew from the moment you became betrothed that you had a heavy vacancy to fill…but it seemed that Friedrich had no intention of you filling it.

“He does not touch me, mother.”

The words were whispered in the quiet home one day, and you looked around, ignoring the feel of the older woman’s gaze in favor of imagining what this house must have been like before the tragedy. You imagined how loud it must have been with two animated little girls running around. You imagined how good Friedrich must have been with them, and thoughts of Anna welcoming him home with a kiss and her arms full made your heart sink.

You were not her.

The advice of your mother went into one ear and out the other. You had long accepted that you were a poor replacement that Friedrich could hardly stand to look at. You were alone on your wedding night and again the night after that and the night after that. You were always alone, and the few glimpses that you got of your husband since the wedding day only proved fruitful in your gazes meeting for a stolen moment…and then he was gone again.

You were always alone, and he was always gone…

Until the morning you would not rise from your bed.

The fever struck you in the night, and by the time morning came you felt weighed down by sand. Any strength you had was used to keep your breathing as even as possible, unable to even muster an attempt to open your eyes and tell your cold husband that you were well. Conversations swirled around your head for what felt like days, and in between the feverish dreams, you caught diagnoses and assurances here and there.

“It is merely a cold,” the doctor told Friedrich. “Her body is fighting it quite well, and she will be like new in a matter of days.”

You recalled agreeing with the assessment, feeling more fatigued than anything else—you’d always been rather sickly—but your peace had been broken for the first time in months. The voice of your husband had reached your ears—so broken and angry and unlike anything you had experienced with him.

“...and how exactly did this come about? She never even leaves the house, for God’s sake.”

You heard the rustle of fabric and heavy steps and an even heavier sigh.

“In a matter of a night, my wife has taken ill, and I am assured that she will recover in no time, but I have heard that before…” his voice shook. “I will not bury another wife—I cannot!”

It all seemed so unlike him, and so you convinced yourself that you merely dreamt it up. The fever was clouding your mind and making you conjure up your innermost desires, namely Friedrich caring for you for more than just a societal duty to bear sons that would carry on his name. You allowed yourself to slip into darkness and dream some more.

A masculine hand in yours, a finger tracing patterns into your stomach through the fabric of the bedding, soft lips brushing along your fingers and facial hair tickling your flesh. Your mind conjured up all sorts of things that simply could not be true, and yet when you fully opened your eyes for the first time in days, you were not alone.

It was not easy to place the look upon Friedrich’s face as he stared down at you, towering over your bed with a smoke in hand and dark circles beneath his eyes. He did not look well himself, and you could not help running your eyes over him, wondering just how much sleep he had gotten this past week. The room was quiet as you two just stared at each other, and just as you parted your lips to inquire about his own health, he was abruptly turning away from you. His voice rang throughout the house as he demanded someone send for the doctor.

It was only hours later that it was professionally confirmed that you were almost as good as new and would probably only have to put up with a light cough for the next day or two. Hearing those words relieved you, and when you looked up at your husband, you could not tell if he shared your relief. You frowned up at him as the doctor poked and prodded at you, wondering, for the first time, just what the dark-haired young man was thinking.

He only stared back.

In fact, he only ever stared these days.

When you were walking through the silent house much like the ghost that haunted your marriage, you could feel the heavy weight of his stare pressing down on you. It was not easy to ignore—nor did you want to—but whenever you turned, no husband was there to meet your gaze. The only sign of his presence was the flutter of a broad shadow passing along the walls. He was much bolder when you found your nose buried in a book, and oftentimes when you lifted your gaze to catch him, he did not shy away.

“Yes?” you would wonder, voice quiet as both uncertainty and unease filled you.

Sometimes he did not answer, merely content to gaze at you, and other times he took his time in responding. He would exhale smoke and it would billow between you, briefly obscuring his features before he swiped his tongue between his lips.

“Supper will be ready within the hour.”

You would nod, and he would make no move to leave, and you would be forced to turn your eyes back to the pages before you…resolving to ignore the silent presence in the doorway that was your husband. You found yourself doing that a lot—resolving to ignore his presence. Otherwise, you would never get anything done.

His gaze clung to you when you ate, the dinner table silent outside of the sound of food and utensils hitting dishes. When your eyes would meet, you would send him a small smile, thinking to yourself that your marriage was just progressing slower than most, but he never returned it. He never smiled at you, only preferring to stare. When you ate, when you read, when you found yourself outside amongst the flowers…even when you slept.

You had never once shared a bed, so it was startling to answer a knock on your door one night, coming face to face with your other half. Your nightdress kissed your feet, and the sleeves tickled your hand, and despite that, Friedrich gazed at you as if you were standing naked before him.

“I only wish to make sure you are well throughout the night.”

You did not know how you felt both relief and disappointment, but you managed.

It took you some time to respond, nodding with a small ‘of course’. You still let out a cough here and there, and you did not miss the way Friedrich’s head would abruptly turn with every heave of your chest. Your marriage may have been cold and strange, but it was obvious that your husband had grown paranoid with the fear of burying a wife for a second time. You imagined that it would not reflect well on him.

…and so you laid beside him and closed your eyes and even in the cover of darkness…

You could feel his gaze.

It unsettled you, and you had half a mind to seek the advice of your mother the next time your parents came for a visit, but she—ever zestful and bold—completely took hold of your train of thought.

“...and when might I expect a grandchild?”

There was a teasing smile on her lips as she regarded you, and you merely sighed before taking a sip of your tea.

“You know my situation, mother,” you murmured, setting your cup aside.

Father was with Friedrich, and you hoped that he was enjoying his company much more than he seemed to his daughter.

“Yes, but that was months ago, and I can tell that things have shifted.”

At that, you frowned, turning to face her.

“Whatever do you mean?”

Your marriage was just as cold as it was in the beginning, only now a strange voyeuristic atmosphere had descended over it. Your husband had gone from ignoring your very presence to shadowing your every footstep in the house. Her light chuckle made you flinch, and she gazed at you as if you were playing some joke on her.

“Darling,” she took a sip of the warm drink. “I saw the way he was looking at you when you welcomed us through those doors.”

Your frown deepened.

“That is the gaze of a man fighting with all of his might to resist his beloved wife.”

Now it was your turn to think she was playing a jest with you, but you had no more time to linger on that for the voices of your father and husband soon filled the house as they made their way inside. You could only swallow as mother stood to welcome father back, slowly rising as your own husband neared you. When you traced his face with your eyes, you noticed the ease upon it, and you felt relieved to see that he and your father got on well. He looked like any normal man alight with the mirth that came from being in the company of other like minded men, and so you disregarded your mother’s words.

As you stepped past him to approach your father, your back felt aflame with the heat of a familiar gaze.

You saw them out and wished them safe travels and your father placed his hand on your cheek before he went, speaking good health over you. While he may have been used to your sickly nature, any instance that required bed confinement for his daughter always worried him. He wanted to leave with the trust that you would be well looked after…and well looked after you were.

“Your father was very transparent with me about your health.”

Friedrich towered over you as you sat at the table, having been unsure where this conversation was heading when he interrupted supper. A small container was in his large hand, and when your gaze lifted from the bottle to his eyes, you swore that you saw him falter, his words momentarily stuck in his throat.

He placed the bottle down before you, his hand remaining on the table, and the scent of him filled your nose.

“I have gotten the doctor to make a tonic for you. You are to take a few drops with your meal once a week… It will keep your strength and health up.”

He only moved again to open it, and despite the fact that you felt it was hardly necessary—having survived so long without it—one look into the eyes of your husband told you that not only could it not hurt, but for his peace of mind, you needed to do this. You two gazed at one another as he held it in his hand, and after some time, you realized what he wanted. Parting your lips for him, you swallowed down the few drops he administered to you, but even after you swallowed the herbal mixture down…Friedrich continued to stand over you.

It was in this moment that you finally started to voice your thoughts, asking him why he stared at you so when his movements completely stumped you.

His thumb found the corner of your mouth, startling you, and it remained there for some time before he brought it to his lips, tasting whatever had been lingering there. His blue eyes—normally so cold and unreadable in your presence—suddenly glinted with a look you could not place. It happened so fast that you would have missed it, but you did not, and the intensity there was enough to make your heart skip a beat.

Friedrich parted from you as if nothing had happened, and you watched him round the table to take his place across from you once again. It took you some time to pick up your utensils again, rejoining him in eating your supper, and now it was your turn to stare at him…unable to forget that shadowy something that passed through those blue eyes.

He was staring again.

The wind howled outside of the window with the storm and flashes of lightning lit up the otherwise dark room from time to time and your chest and shoulders moved evenly as you feigned sleep. You stared at the wall before you, and Friedrich stared at you. If at all possible, he grew more shameless with it, and if you were a normal loving couple just so wrapped up in each other—as you were sure he was with Anna—then some part of you might have found it romantic.

Tantalizing even.

As it were, you were not, and as silly as it seemed…you felt hunted in your own house.

You constantly felt like prey under his ever watchful eye no matter how justified he made it seem. Concern for your health, making sure no food disagreed with you, seeing how fair you slept. The paranoia of losing another wife suffocated you both for different reasons and in different ways, and you felt as if you were moments away from choking. Your mother’s voice crawled through your mind, and words that you had once dismissed now rang through your thoughts like a melody.

The room glowed with another flash of lightning…and you felt the gentle feel of fingers on the side of your face. You sharply inhaled, startled from both the sudden touch and the foreignness of it. His hand rested on your hair, ensuring that he could gaze upon your face no doubt, and when you felt the bed jostle, you closed your eyes. His lips found your tresses, and his hand found your shoulder, and you both heard and felt him breathe you in.

Friedrich’s nose traced the curve of your ear and he descended until his face was buried in the crook of your neck. Despite all of this, your heart remained steady, and you remained still as he gently pressed his lips to your skin and traced patterns through your sleeve. You felt his larger frame shifting closer, and at that—at the feel of him pressed so closely to you to where you could feel every curve and ridge of him—you shuddered.

Yet you still feigned sleep.

“You will never be her,” the words he murmured into your skin had your brows furrowing. “...and I will never let you.”

Contradictory to the words that left his lips, the hand on your arm found its way to your waist, his arm completely circling you and holding you to him. That was how he remained throughout the night, and only when you accepted the permanence of his position, did you finally allow yourself to find sleep.

It was dreamless, and when you woke up, you woke up alone.

You chose to ignore the relief that filled you at that discovery, telling yourself that Friedrich was still grieving. It was an easy answer to his behavior and treatment of you, and yet, you wondered how much longer you had to endure it. You wondered how much longer you would feel watched and shadowed in your own house.

At breakfast, you parted your lips for Friedrich as he gave you a few drops of the tonic, and he watched you eat, and you pretended not to notice. For some time that is. Finally, after a while, you placed your utensils down, and you lifted your gaze to meet his head on. Ever bold, he did not look away, those blue eyes momentarily making you lose your train of thought.

“Why do you stare at me so?”

You finally voiced your concerns with him, and you watched the mustache twitch from the movements of his mouth at your sudden and brazen question. Friedrich looked as if he had never anticipated you asking that of him, but eventually he straightened, pushing his shoulders back as he studied your face.

“I am afraid you will slip away.”

His answer made you blink, eyes widening slightly.

“I fear…” he cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. “...like my Anna, you will slip from my grasp.”

Your lips parted at the unexpected answer, and you were unsure of how to respond. Friedrich took a deep breath before digging into his own breakfast, those blue eyes finally refusing to meet yours.

“I will not allow you to become her…lost to me too.”

It was in that moment that you realized you completely misconstrued his words from the previous night, and you stared at the man before you who was so desperate and driven to uncomfortable lengths to ensure he did not bury another wife. Some part of you felt awful for feeling so put off by his uncanny behavior…but some other part of you recognized that your husband was slowly being pushed to madness.

If he were not so already.

“She vexes me so…”

Those were the words you overheard a week later, your house hosting a small handful of people that Friedrich knew. The wives took to you well despite your quiet disposition, and when they proposed an evening walk along the beach, you went in search of your husband to inform him. When you found him, he was in the company of three other men, the smell of tobacco reached you first and then his words followed.

You froze the moment you realized it was you he was referring to.

“She is so quiet and frail…like a mouse” there were a few chuckles. “...and I so desire to hear her squeak.”

You felt yourself take a step back.

“...but it is because she is so fragile that I cannot bring myself to touch her…” you heard Friedrich inhale. “I fear I would ravage her.”

How was it possible for his words to both terrify and entice you? It was a relief to know that your husband did not balk at the sight of you as you once thought, but you did not hold the same sentiment in confirming you were indeed being hunted in your own house. Friedrich had made no moves to warm you to him and progress this marriage in a way that a normal man would. After all these months, he was still little more than a stranger to you.

A stranger that was increasingly losing himself more and more at the thought of ever losing you.

“...but Friedrich we only just got here.”

You looked to him with a slight frown, the ocean breeze a soothing feeling against your skin. So turned around by his words from the other night, you had completely forgotten all about the beach, returning to the other wives in a bit of a daze, something they happily sat you down and fetched some water for.

With one look at you surrounded and feverish with some water in your hand, Friedrich had cleared the house out immediately, saddening you. You were at the beach, now to make up for it, but you were sure that you had only been here all of ten minutes.

“It is a bit airish out,” he said to you, keeping your hand in place on his arm. “I do not wish to see you fall ill again.”

You struggled to argue with him about your health, understanding both the sensitive nature of the topic and the determination in his eyes to see you back inside the house. Despite what you wanted, you allowed him to guide you away from the water and sand. His hand remained on yours the whole way, and the closer you got to your home, the more your unease grew.

“Perhaps we can try again if the weather is better tomorrow,” you proposed the moment you were inside the warm walls of the house.

Your husband did not answer right away as he removed his coat, and for a moment you feared he never would, but his eyes met yours as he turned to you. He was gentle and meticulous in unbuttoning your own coat, his chest so close to yours as he slowly peeled it off of you. The words that he did not know you heard were on your mind as he looked down his nose at you, and he only answered when your arms were finally free.

“We shall see.”

His tone and his words did not seem to be in agreement, and you were unsurprised when tomorrow came and went and you did not leave the walls of your home. You found enjoyment in your books instead, and like always, you eventually felt goosebumps crawl over your arms as you became the subject of his scrutiny yet again.

Only this time, you were surprised to hear him approach.

“Read to me,” he quietly asked—demanded—of you, and you felt his hand in your hair as he sat down on the couch behind you.

It was an unexpected request, and you were silent for a few moments more as he made himself comfortable behind you. His legs were on either side of you as you relaxed on the floor, the fabric of your dresses and undergarments cushioning your bottom. It took you some time to do as he asked, but once you did, you started to forget that he was even there.

Until his fingers started to move over your scalp and he drew himself closer, his knees in your line of vision now, and his gentle breathing started to accompany the sound of your own voice. You read to him for what felt like hours, both of you only pulled from the moment when the cook informed you that dinner would be ready soon.

Much of your time was spent reading to Friedrich these days, and you wondered if he thought it a sufficient enough distraction to ensure you hardly noticed he never let you out of the house anymore. Your requests to go to the beach grew less and less with every denial and every ‘maybe’ that would just turn into a denial. The day you asked to accompany one of the staff to the market, he visibly blanched, his head shaking as he snarked at you how completely out of the question that was.

You finally spoke up when the monthly visit from your parents did not come to pass.

“I did not think it wise for them to be here,” was his only defense, and you gaped at him.

“...and why not? Why am I the last to know this?”

His hand wrapped around your arm as he pulled you away from the curious eyes and ears of the kitchen staff, guiding you through the house with that long stride of his that almost made it hard to keep up. When he noticed, he slowed down, eventually halting his movements just outside of his study, and when you hesitantly reached for your arm, Friedrich loosened his hold.

You watched him use his free hand to gently brush his fingers over the appendage, looking down at it with a frown before meeting your gaze with a more even stare.

“...because they are always trotting off to God knows where around God knows who, and I will not allow them to bring even so much as a shallow cough into this household.”

You blinked at your husband, understanding dawning on you, and you struggled with a response. You realized now that appeasing his paranoia—not fighting it and letting him have his way—was doing more harm than good. Friedrich was so good at hiding his emotions from you—even the ones you wanted to know about—but in the dimly lit hallway, you could see it clear as day in his eyes.

He was consumed with the fear that you would wind up just like Anna and his children.

Taking a deep breath, you hesitantly reached for his hand, removing it from your arm. You did not break your gaze, wanting him to listen to you loud and clear, and you swallowed down the unease that filled you as you stood under his unwavering gaze.

“Friedrich…” you whispered to him, so unused to the feel of his name on your tongue. “That is no way for me to live a life.”

He pushed his shoulders back at that, and you knew that he was going to argue with you, so you continued.

“You have gotten me a tonic from the doctor…I am the healthiest I have ever been…and I would very much like to see my mother and father.”

His mustache twitched as the corner of his mouth curved upwards at your attempt to put your foot down. The both of you stood there for a lengthy amount of time, just staring at one another, and for the briefest of moments, you thought that Friedrich would see reason. Your hand was still on his, and your husband maneuvered them so that your hand was now in his, and when he stopped closer, you knew then that you were not getting your way.

“Perhaps some other time.”

You knew what that meant as you watched him walk away, and dread began to fill you as the reality of your predicament was truly setting in. Your eyes roamed along the walls, no longer feeling haunted by Anna, but her husband instead. He was haunting you, and she was haunting him, and in his desperation to keep you from suffering the same fate as his previous wife, Friedrich seemed content to keep you behind a gilded cage, a manicured box.

Like a porcelain doll.

Your days were consumed with only him and the house—reading to him, tending to the flowers, picking out patterns for some new drapes or a new rug to be made. It was enough to ignore the obvious for a while, enough to keep your mind off of the prolonged absence of your parents and the unmet desires to see the water and the way Friedrich stared at you like he expected you to crumble at the drop of a hat.

He was driving you nearly mad as he, and perhaps that was why you did it.

The caretaker was new and had not yet learned that Friedrich Harding preferred to keep his new wife locked up like some sickly child. Why would she? You were sure that you would be back home before he returned, but when you entered your home—the sun still at its peak outside—you did not miss the way some of the servants avoided your gaze. Only one approached you, quietly taking your coat as her gaze found the floor.

“Mr. Harding is waiting for you both…”

Your heart sank at her words, and you looked to the caretaker, knowing that you just cost her employment. That had never been your intention, and you walked ahead of her, prepared to plead her case to your husband, but he let her go on the spot before you could get a word in. Everything you said went ignored, every plea and every excuse, and it was only when the staff made themselves conveniently scarce did your proper and mighty well-to-do husband finally…

Break.

“Do you wish to ruin me? Is that it?”

His voice bounced off of the walls, and your lips parted as he stared you down. His eyes were alight with every emotion known to man, and his shoulders heaved with every breath he took. You only just started to shake your head when he spoke again.

“For surely it will be the end of me if I have to say goodbye to another wife,” he angrily whispered, and you took a step back. “I do not ask much of you.”

“I know-.”

“I have not forced you to my bed, I have not demanded any sons or daughters,” he let out a tearful chuckle. “I do not even demand you greet your husband with a kiss when he returns home.”

All of this was true, and yet…

“All I ask is that you remain here.”

He said it so casually, as if he were not asking the world of you to remain prettily seated in a cage. You had never known how to gently broach this subject, understanding the sensitive nature of it, but as you stared into the face of your husband—driven mad with trauma and paranoia—you accepted that there would be no gentle way to do it.

“I am not Anna,” you breathed.

The man before you froze in place as you said her name, and you swallowed.

“I am in good health now,” you licked your lips. “You saw to that…”

You slowly reached for him, and you did not miss the sharp look in his gaze as he followed the movement with his eyes.

“I am not going anywhere, and I implore you to have faith…”

Your words trailed off as the sound of his bitter chuckle reached your ears. Friedrich moved closer to you with no intention of stopping it seemed, and your back hit the wall.

“Faith,” the dark-haired man sneered. “Why would I trust faith to keep you with me when that very same faith failed me before?”

You had no answer for him.

His fingers touched your face, and you looked between his eyes. His chest heaved, and his heavy breathing was the loudest sound in the room. His fingers trailed down the expanse of your neck before his hand moved to rest on the back of it, moving closer.

“You are so frail,” he murmured. “I knew it the moment I laid eyes on you.”

He forced your face closer, and you pressed your hands to his chest. The conflict was evident on his features, a furrow between his brows as he drank you in with those sad blue eyes of his.

“I fear that a change in the wind would rip you from my very arms.”

“Friedrich…” he gave no indication that he was listening to you. “I have not seen my mother and father in months. I know they must worry and… All I ever see are these walls and the staff and my books and you. Do you wish for me to be unhappy?”

He tilted his head.

“Do you wish for me to be alone again?”

“Friedrich, please,” you begged, and he was shaking his head as soon as you said his name.

“I cannot do what you ask of me,” he forced out, eyes becoming glassy.

You pulled at his arm and pushed at his chest, but your husband was a mountain of a man, and it did you no good. The room was filled with both of your voices at once, both of you pleading with the other—you for freedom and he for understanding.

“You do not understand the lengths I go to…”

“I will be driven to madness!”

“...the nights I refuse my own desires,” he tearfully spat.

“So you would have me be your doll then? Placed on a shelf where only you and the staff can see me? To only be looked at like a trinket until the end of my days?”

Your poor choice of words had him freezing, his voice dying in the air as he gazed at you with a stricken look in his eyes. He did not move for a concerning amount of time, and as he stared into your eyes, tears kissing his own, you wondered who he saw, right now.

You or Anna?

The wife he had lost or the one he was scared of losing?

“I cannot bear it,” he choked out, his face pressing into the crook of your neck. “It is an impossible thing to ask of me.”

You said his name, but he felt lost to you, mumbling to himself and kneading at you through the fabric of your dress. When his soft lips pressed against the skin just above your bosom, you tensed. You could feel the wetness from his tears on your flesh, and you said his name again.

In this moment, you were wholly aware of your disadvantage.

“All I do is try to protect you, and all I ask is that you help me…”

“Friedrich.”

He was on his knees, now, burly arms circled around your waist, and blue eyes wide and bright and tearful as he looked up at you.

“Yet you fight me every step of the way.”

“I am not Anna,” you said to him, trying to get him to see reason.

…but he knew exactly who he was talking to.

“...and you will never become her if I can help it.”

You felt his hand slide to your backside, pulling you closer as he buried his face into the fabric of your skirts.

“Night after night…day after day…I fight with myself for fear of hurting you, of doing irreparable damage.”

His arm tightened painfully around you, and you gasped, reaching down to pull at his sleeve.

“...and for what? For a wife who still leaves these walls and puts herself in harm’s way even after her husband begs her not to.”

“I cannot…”

You struggled to breathe, and you no longer just wanted him to let you go…you wished to get away. You both heard and felt him press a lingering kiss to your stomach, his tears wetting the fabric of your dress.

“If I am to risk you in any capacity…then surely it should be for the betterment of us both.”

So focused on trying to take in air, you did not fully register his words and the implication behind them. Your chest was tightening and your stomach was hurting, and your husband was losing his mind, and you did not know how to convince him that he would not lose you too. You pushed further back against the wall in an effort to relieve some of the painful pressure when you could suddenly breathe again.

You sharply inhaled…and the sound of tearing fabric reached your ears.

The pressure around your abdomen was loosening in more ways than one, and when you looked down, Friedrich had his hands quite literally inside of your dress. It was one that your mother had commissioned for you, but you could not find it in yourself to mourn the loss of the beautiful gown. You were more focused on your husband’s sudden animalistic nature.

You said his name, pushing at his hands, but you were no match for his strength.

“I cannot stop,” you heard him murmur, making your blood run cold. “Do not dare ask me to stop.”

With his hand at your back under the fabric, it was not long before you quite literally felt the fabric and strings of your corset being pulled taut against your flesh before ripping and popping completely. A panic seized you as you fought to get away from Friedrich, and he fought to rid you of the mountain of layers that covered you.

“Friedrich,” you gasped, pushing at his face and head, but with his arms around you in a vice-like grip, you had nowhere to go.

You pushed one foot forward, a difficult feat with a grown man attached to you, and your husband did not like that. He pulled at your dress some more—pulling down—and the action had you careening forward as you attempted to get away from him at the same time. With the floor fast approaching, you were prepared to crawl away from him, but Friedrich was much quicker on his feet than you.

Arms that were now increasingly familiar to you wrapped around your waist, catching you midfall, and Friedrich’s chest was to your back as he stood and brought you with him. You could feel his facial hair tickling your skin as he leaned in, deeply inhaling and kneading his fingers just under your chest.

“I cannot…”

His words trailed off as he forced you to face him, pink lips parted and blue eyes glazed over. Every step back from him was followed, and his nose touched yours while one hand found a home on your cheek. His lips touched yours for half a second before you pulled away, and he let you, frowning at you as if you confounded him.

She vexes me so.

You recalled those words that were not meant for your ears.

“I cannot…” his frown deepened. “I cannot resist you any longer.”

He finally stole a kiss from you, his lips covering yours in a way that no one ever had before. The kiss at your wedding was sweet—chaste even—but this was nothing of the sort. Friedrich deeply inhaled your every breath and pawed at you and pulled you closer if at all possible. The kiss made your head spin, and every time you attempted to move your head back, he followed. It was hard to breathe with his lips on yours.

You realized that what you felt against the back of your thighs was the bed, but only too late and when Friedrich’s hands tightened on the neckline of your dress. His lips sought out the flesh of your throat as he pulled and ripped it open completely. His blunt nails softly dragged against your skin as he yanked it down, moving closer, and with nowhere else to go, you felt yourself backed into a corner.

Your resistance was clear, and your husband wrapped an arm around your waist, briefly lifting you before dropping you on the soft surface. His large frame found solace between your legs, and you felt irreversibly trapped. He towered over you and his mouth held yours captive and his arms did not allow you anywhere to go.

You gasped his name into his mouth, a protest in your tone.

“I no longer have the strength to keep myself from you,” he murmured into the kiss. “Do not ask me to for I cannot do it.”

His hand slithered between your legs like a serpent, and you squirmed in a way you never had before. You had never even touched yourself there on lonely nights, recalling how unclean and unchaste it was said to be, but Friedrich was your husband. Surely that made it okay…but then why did it not feel okay in your chest? Perhaps it was because he scared you and isolated you and kept you locked away like some prized possession.

You felt yourself growing wet beneath his touch, and a low hum climbed from his throat as you laid your hand on his arm. When a finger slid into you, you dug your nails into his arm. The feel had you blinking, and when he added another, your eyes widened. A third had you gasping and him cursing—something you rarely heard. You felt stretched, and when he moved closer, forcing your legs to part more to accommodate him, you hissed.

“Lie back, my love,” he murmured to you. “It will feel much better.”

You refused to, one hand on the bed behind you in some weak hope that you could stop this before it went any further. You simply wanted freedom, and pleading with Friedrich for something so simple had ended in him seeking out his own pleasures instead. You could feel yourself dripping around his hand with every thrust of his fingers, and shame filled you.

When you were unable to swallow down a moan, you hid your face.

“There she is,” he slowly whispered, and when his thumb brushed over you in a way that had your arm weakening, he took advantage.

In one fell swoop, you found yourself on your back, your husband on top of you and his fingers still pushing into you. Your ruined dress hung off of you in tatters, and Friedrich tasted whatever visible skin there was. His large frame kept you pinned to the bed, and your eyes rolled and lashes fluttered from the way he moved his fingers and his hand between your thighs. You weakly murmured his name, and beyond that, in the quiet room, you could hear his movements. You could hear the wet sound of it, and more shame filled you, but you were not given time to linger on it.

He sat up on his knees, reaching down with his other hand so that he played you with both. You felt your back arching, and your breathing grew more shallow, and one hand gently massaged your mound while the other continued to push his fingers into your slick walls. He curled them into you over and over, massaging your insides and pressing the pads of his fingers against you.

It was unlike anything you ever felt, and when your stomach tightened—a rope or a coil or something deep within your gut—you let it until it could not any further, and you were suddenly gasping and whimpering in a way that made you sound possessed. You could feel Friedrich’s gaze on you, and when you managed to focus your own on him despite the difficulty, he wore an expression that you were sure you had never seen before.

It made you want to cover yourself and shy away, and when he pulled his fingers out of you—a tinge of red on them—that was exactly what you set out to do.

Feeling hot and confused and unsettled by the man before you, you reached for the covers in an attempt to hide your nakedness, but your husband would not have it. He climbed over you, keeping you pinned between his thighs as he peeled off his light jacket, his tie and shirt and undershirt quick to follow.

You imagined that your wedding night would have been something akin to this, but only without this level of unease and fear and confusion. As it were, your wedding night was nothing like this. You had been alone, convinced of your husband’s lack of care for you, and now almost a year later, you were squirming beneath him and wanting to be as far away as possible from the man who metaphorically locked you in the tower and tossed the key.

“Friedrich,” you choked out, pushing at his chest.

He leaned in and kissed you again, and you felt every bit of him as he forced you out of your garments completely.

The tip of him brushed against your sensitive flesh, and you shuddered beneath him. He would not stop kissing you, tasting the inside of your mouth and inhaling every gasp that escaped. His normally perfect hair was in disarray, and when he reached down between you, his other arm was proactive in holding you tight and in place for him.

The feel of his cock pushing into you almost made you wish for his fingers instead. You thought that you felt stretched before, but it was nothing in comparison to the slow way in which he sheathed himself inside of you. You felt unnaturally full, and it took your breath away. Friedrich groaned from above you, and you felt a shudder crawl up his back as he rested inside of you.

“I tried,” you heard him whisper. “I tried so very hard…but I cannot go another day without having you.”

He slowly pulled his hips back until only the tip of him remained before sinking into you completely. You could not stop the movements of your body, your hips lifting with his as if being carried by a wave, a breathless sigh escaping with every thrust. His bare chest was pressed to yours, and his burly arms kept you right where he wanted you, and you felt yourself slowly forgetting why you had ever resisted him.

“Endless nights of lying awake and knowing you were a mere room away,” Friedrich breathed against your skin. “So close…and so forbidden to me.”

The speed of his hips grew, and your nails dug into his skin, dragging over it as he plunged his cock into you with a vigor you did not know he had. He was always so cold with you, keeping you at arm’s length even when he was touching you. You recalled the feel of his hand on your hair and his fingers on your mouth and a brush against your waist. Always giving in just a little bit more until he no longer had the desire to hold himself back. Always staring and watching and craving.

It was so clear to you, now, and all you could think was that your mother was right…

…and you were a fool.

“I feared I would break you,” he panted, thrusting into you so strongly that the bed beneath you shook. “I still fear that I just might.”

He pushed himself up onto his hands so that he could look down at you, and the dull tender ache had started to subside, replaced by something that far exceeded the pleasure his fingers had given you. Your back arched, and Friedrich wasted no time in dipping his head to wrap his lips around a heaving breast. His tongue swirling around a hardened bud had you reaching up to thread your fingers through his dark locks.

He groaned at the action, and when he lifted his head again, his intense blue gaze sought out yours. You softly moaned every time his hips curved into yours, his cock smoothly sliding between your folds, now and stroking you in a way that momentarily convinced you your freedom was not all that desirable. Your husband did not look away from your eyes again, and it felt overwhelming to be beneath him and staring into his eyes and feel him within you.

One of his hands reached up to touch your cheek, and a frown formed between his brows.

“So fragile… It would take nothing for me to break you, to snuff you right out,” his words made your heart skip a beat. “You test my self control in ways that terrify me.”

His hand traveled to your neck.

“I was right to fear the monster that I would unleash if I ever got my hands on you…”

His fingers danced to the back of your neck, and he gripped the hair at the nape there, slowly and gently forcing your head back. His hips did not relent once, meeting yours again and again, the sound of skin meeting skin reaching your ears among other things that filled you with shame. So much shame.

“For I will never be able to resist you again.”

He leaned in and pressed gentle kisses along the expanse of your throat, his tongue darting out to taste the damp skin, humming at the salty nature the thin sheen of sweat gave it. You whimpered when he reached down with his free hand, fingers brushing against you and circling you as you greedily clenched around his cock.

“If anything happened to you,” he whispered into your neck. “It would be my undoing.”

#friedrich harding #friedrich harding x reader #atj x reader #atj #aaron taylor johnson #nosferatu #nosferatu 2024 #yandere #soft yandere

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wonsroyalty · 2 days ago

Text

METER : ̗̀➛이희승

pairings/warnings: uni student!heeseung x reader, smut, >18 DNI,, not sure what other warnings to put here yet but i'll add more later

a/n: had this idea in the drafts for a longgg time but never wrote it so i finally got to work!!

“You could never.” your friend gasped from across you.

You could and you definitely would.

For context, you’d just announced to the table that you were planning on submitting a new entry into your collective, ‘Munch O Meter’.

Yes, you had a blog that ranked the guys and girls at your university based on how well they could eat pussy. It was a way of ‘taking feminism into your own hands’ as Yunjin liked to say.

If you weren’t all beautiful and popular, the cancellation of your friend group would’ve began a longggg time ago.

However, top of the list hadn’t been topped in over 5 months and your loyal followers were getting concerned.

Jake Sim had given Hyeju a ‘cosmic’ orgasm and she’d rated him a 97. Out of disbelief, you all took turns hooking up with him and truth be told he truly was as good as she’d said.

His average score was 90, placing him at the top of the list.

For the sake of your entertainment and theirs, you proposed an unexpected candidate.

Deep down you just wanted to see if he was a virgin but disguising your intrigue as concern for the list worked perfectly.

“Lee Heeseung..?” Yooyeon looked at you as if you’d just shit on her plate. “Seriously.”

Yunjin shook her head.

“Definitely not.”

You slouched in your chair sulking.

Whenever they put people forward, you encouraged their suggestions, thinking of their fun rather than the entertainment of the blog.

“I literally never suggest anyone.” you whined. “Just let me have this.”

“No.” Yunjin firmly shut you down.

Hyeju gave you a pat on the head, attempting to comfort you.

“But why?!” you sat up abruptly, slamming your hands on the table accidentally.

“Who even is he? If his name doesn’t ring a bell, he shouldn’t even be considered.” she doubled down.

You sighed exasperatedly.

Heeseung had come over to the table not even five minutes before, handing you the notes from music theory during your group brainstorming for the next candidate.

“He was that nerd.” Yooyeon explained to her. “The one with the baggy clothes and glasses that kept falling down his nose.”

“He’s really nice.” you frowned.

“Nice doesn’t cut it.” Yunjin shook her head. “If he’s a bad fuck you’ll just ruin his chances of getting with anyone else.”

Fed up with their resistance you swiped your bag off the table and announced that you were going to do it anyway.

Despite the protests sent your way you stormed off to find Heeseung.

There was only one place he could be - the library.

And that’s where you found him. Buried behind a pile of books while sipping on one of those cheap energy drinks.

You were just glad that you weren’t giving him a blowjob, out of fear that his sweat would reek.

Your fingers tapped his shoulder rapidly.

“Heeseung!” you sang.

“Shut up.” his friend who you knew as Jay, snapped at you.

You held your hands up, surrendering.

“Um.. Yn? What wrong?” Heeseung panicked. “Were my notes bad? Oh my Pythagoras, did I miss out anything!”

“Shut up!” Jay snapped again.

You shook your head.

“I just need to talk to you… over there.” you pointed towards the book shelves.

He didn’t even have time to respond before you were yanking him out of his seat, ignoring the books that toppled to the ground.

“I have a problem..” you started.

Now that he was up close in a tight space and you were asking for such a shameful act, the embarrassment caught up to you.

“Am I your last resort?” he asked.

“No!” you panicked. “My first….”

He held his hand awkwardly on your shoulder.

“It’s okay. What can I help you with?”

Your brain registered where you were and who you were with. The warmth of his hand felt nice but you had a reputation to uphold.

You shoved his arm off and he immediately gained composure, but not in the way that you wanted.

He wouldn’t hold eye contact with you anymore, feeling the weight of your different status’.

“I wanna enter you into the Munch O Meter.” you bashfully answered.

His head whipped towards yours.

“What the fuck.”

You covered your face with your fingers, curling into yourself.

“You stopped my studying for this joke? Are you kidding?” he glared before storming off.

Your fingers grasped at his jacket, pulling him back.

“I’m not joking.” you confess. “I don’t usually pick people but I wanna choose you.”

He scanned your eyes looking for any hint of doubt but couldn’t find any.

“Are you sure?” he asked softly.

“Yes. I’m definitely sure.” you stepped back.

He bit his fist to stop himself from squealing.

“Jay is gonna be so shocked.” he looked over at his friend. “One thing though,”

“Whatever you want.” you replied. “It’s the least I could do to be honest.”

“We need to get ramen, first.” Heeseung nodded calmly.

You smile dropped. “Fucking.. Ramen?”

“I promised Jay I’d get him some.” he shrugged, unbothered and not in a rush at all. “And i’m kinda hungry.”

You fought the urge to walk away then and there. Choosing to stick to the plan for your own pride. Going back to the lunch table would be way too embarrassing.

“Fine. I’ll pay.” you stormed off to their table.

Heeseung trailed after you packing up his things.

“What are you doing?” Jay huffed.

You yanked him out of his seat.

“Hurry up, we’ve got an errand to run.”

***

The whole way to the ramen place, you were forced to listen to their atrocious science jokes. You were smart enough to understand them but the quantity was overkill.

It was surprisingly close to your apartment so that was a bonus, you could ditch Jay as soon as they’d eaten and get on with what you wanted.

You paid and sat waiting for them to start eating.

Jay wasted no time but Heeseung looked skeptical.

“Why aren’t you eating?” he asked.

“Not hungry.” you shrugged.

“Eating ramen isn’t gonna make your pussy taste weird.” he deadpanned.

An old lady sat near the three of you gave you a look.

“Keep it down, will you.” you growled. “I said I wasn’t hungry.”

“Suit yourself.” Jay slurped. “If you tasted like ramen, he’d eat you out better.”

You flicked him in the head, his vulgar response had sent the old lady away.

Heeseung finally began to eat and you saw what Jay meant.

His eyes closed in pure bliss and he inhaled the food.

You hated how the noises coming from his mouth went straight to the pulsing sensation between your legs.

He didn’t even stop when he’d eaten all the noodles, gulping down the leftover soup without a care in the world. Even licking the bowl to not waste a drop.

You’d never wanted to be a bowl so badly.

“Is it good..?” you croaked out.

“Fuck, that tasted amazing.” he wiped at his face with a napkin. “You would’ve liked it.”

“Yeah..? Fuck.” you moaned out. “We’re going now. Bye Jay.”

You jumped to your feet bouncing impatiently as you watched Heeseung clean up.

“So when will I be on the list?” Jay joked.

“Idk. When we have a threesome or something.” you absentmindedly responded, pushing Heeseung’s arms into his coat.

You missed the way Jay began to choke on his spit, as you were busy shoving Heeseung out of the door.

“Someone’s needy, heh.” he rubbed the back of his head.

“No, it’s worse than that.” you sighed.

Heeseung stumbled after you as you dragged him to your apartment.

The two of you stood in silence as the elevator took you up.

"Are you okay?" Heeseung asked. " Do you still want to do this?"

You didn't respond and instead attacked his lips as soon as he’d kicked his shoes off in your apartment.

"That's not an answer." he pulled away.

"Fuck yeah. I still want this." you responded, dazed by his lips.

You bit, sucked and kissed at every piece of skin available.

He pulled you off by your hair. “Am I not here to eat you out?”

Your hands grabbed his, taking him across the apartment and into your bedroom.

He lightly pushed you onto your bed and hovered over you, placing light kisses on your lips.

His lips messily made their way down to your neck, stopping at the spot where he hear you cry out the loudest.

"Wait," you panted. "Have you done this before?"

You felt his hair brush against your cheek as he shook his head.

"Really?" you sat up.

Yes, you'd thought he was a virgin but but hearing the confirmation made your heart jump for joy.

"I've had sex before, just.. never eaten a girl out." he shrugged.

"Oh."

"Not what you thought, huh?" he squinted.

You scrambled to change your expression.

"That's not what I thought-"

Heeseung used his palm to smush your face into the mattress. Upon hearing you complain he shoved two fingers into your mouth, pushing them further down till you gagged.

"Shhh. Please just stop talking, oh my."

Your eyes widened in shock.

"Who are you talking to like that?" Is what you would've said if you didn't have fingers playing with your uvula.

He moved down to your shirt, popping each button with one hand but by his expression, you could tell he was getting frustrated. The fingers in your mouth popped out and moved to help slip you out of your shirt before unclasping your bra.

Heeseung took a second to fold the items and place them on your bedside table.

"Can you hurry up- Wait, fuck!"

He took your newly exposed breasts into his hands, twisting your tender nipples, painfully.

"What did I tell you?"

You scoffed.

"You can't actually expect me to be quiet. That's- Ow!"

He leant down and took a nipple into his mouth, biting down with his teeth, swirling his warm tongue around it before popping off.

"Shut up."

All the talk went down to where you desperately needed him the most.

Heeseung kissed down your stomach, hesitating at your skirt before unzipping it and folding it with the rest of your clothes.

You watched as his eyes widened at the sight of the wet patch on your panties as he dragged them down slowly.

"Do you always get this wet?" he asked in awe.

You shook your head feeling the embarrassment of being completely bare in front of him while he was fully clothed and composed in front of you.

"So that's your kink." he laughed. "Crazy, but I'm not surprised that you're kinda freaky."

"Shut up, Heeseung. I swear I'll-"

He sighed loudly, interrupting you once again.

"Didn't I tell you to keep your mouth closed?"

He lowered his body down the bed so that his face was eye level with your pussy, eyes wide and curious.

Cold air blew onto your clit as he watched you clench your nothing.

"Fascinating how the female anatomy works."

You sat up, resting on your arms.

"You're gonna turn me off, stop being weird!"

He looked at you as though you'd just called his mother a bitch but didn't respond.

Two of his fingers gathered the slick dripping out of you and lathered it all over your clit, switching up the tempo randomly.

Your head fell back, legs widening in pleasure.

"Cool..." he drawled. "You know you've got more that 10,000 nerve fibers here, right?"

Your arms collapsed from underneath you as you moaned out.

"Wow. When I actually want you to speak, you don't."

He experimentally slipped two fingers into your cunt, feeling around as he kept his other hand circling.

Your legs closed around his shoulders as you gripped onto your sheets when he found the spot that usually had you screaming.

You felt Heeseung speed up the pace as you gushed all over his fingers, orgasming faster than expected.

"Are you sure that was your first time?" you gasped for air.

The boy between your legs was clearly distracted.

He licked at the release leaving your pussy, closing his eyes in pure bliss before sticking his tongue in.

You rapidly fought to push his head away.

"No. No more." you sighed.

"I know you can get another one." he rested his head against your thigh.

"I really can't." you shook your head.

"Stop lying." he frowned.

"I'm not lying!" you lip dropped in shock.

"Jake literally made you cum four times and yet you don't want me to do it again. Right."

You sighed from your gut.

"But.. I'm tired." you looked away from his piercing gaze. "And since when did you even speak to Jake?"

"Good thing you don't have to actually do anything." Heeseung scoffed before diving back in.

Your fingers curled into the duvet again as he quickly found a steady pace.

"Heeseung, I really can't." you whimpered.

He picked up the tempo in response, slurping and sticking his tongue as far into you as he could.

"Hee! Please." your weak arms attempted to push him away.

He continued to ignore you, your body setting alight as you got closer to a state of other-worldly pleasure.

"Heeseung, Jake lied!" you cried out. "I can't take it- I can't."

Heeseung seemed to reach a spot even deeper than you had ever tried, the constant stimulation had your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

Your hips bucked against his face uncontrollably as you got closer to your impending doom.

A loud moan left your lips as your entire body went rigid.

"Hee, fuck!"

In the midst of the best pleasure you'd ever felt you peeked an eye open to see how Heeseung was reacting.

He had his eyes closed and his tongue wide out as he tried to catch ever drop of the release you'd squirted out.

Your chest heaved as you attempted to get a breath in, causing him to open his eyes abruptly.

"Wait what." he frowned.

"Jake, he lied. I only came twice and that was because he fucking edged me for two hours. But I gave him a high score because I didn't know who told him about how I always squirt the second time." you confessed in a ramble.

Heeseung hopped off the bed shaking his head at how you picked at a thread on your duvet to avoid looking at him. He slipped off his boxers and jeans waiting for you to finish you sentence.

"I don't even recommend people for the list because my ex told me it was weird how I always squirt and since then I've just felt embarrassed so I don't fuck people, well aside from Jake because I didn't believe Hyeju, but I wanted to put you forward because, I don't know, I'm kind of admitting that I do in fact have a crush on you and this was like the only way I could get you to not be scared to talk to me outside of class and yeah I overheard you and Jay talking about it in Music Theory, truly shameless-"

Within a split second you had a dick shoved down your throat.

"Fuckk." he moaned out. "Didn't I tell you to stop talking."

He raked your hair into a makeshift ponytail for easier access to use you how he wanted.

"You just don't listen." he sighed, gagging you over and over.

If you weren't sweating before, you definitely were now.

Your hands gripped onto his thighs for dear life as he ruthlessly used your mouth.

"I can't focus on the moment when you keep speaking." he looked you in the eye. "And I know it sounds mean but, fuck, I didn't think we were ever gonna do this again, so I obviously wanted to have a good memory of right now."

His fingers left your hair, head falling back onto your pillows.

You grabbed them and pulled them back.

"You're so hot." he moaned. "And your ex is a fucking imbecilic, doltish prick. He didn't deserve you."

You sure as hell weren't letting Heeseung escape your grasp after this. You used one hand to jerk off whatever you couldn't reach while the other fondled his balls. His hips thrust up into you uncontrollably as he let himself go.

He watched in surprise as you swallowed every last drop before composing himself and walking over to the pile of folded clothes.

"Hee, where are you going?"

He gestured towards the door.

You tilted your head in confusion.

"I wasn't kidding when I said I liked you, come back here!"

He laughed in disbelief, landing on your bed and pulling you into his embrace.

"You like me?"

You nodded.

"For a while actually."

He kissed the top of your head as you reached to get your phone.

Bitchless Bitches😩

heeseung lee - 100

yunjin🪼

YOU IM GONNA FWJOFNQ

hyeju🌺

OHHH so that's where you went

yooyeon🐰

how do we know that he's actually that good..

hyeju🌺

PREACH

if hes a 100 let me at him🥰

no. off limits.

Heeseung laughed at your messages.

"Next time we'll actually fuck." You nodded with determination as you put your phone away.

"Next time?" he gasped in shock.

"Duh. You can't leave now."

"Wow you really want that threesome with Jay."

"What threesome with Jay?"

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bluemerakis · 3 days ago

Note

Recently finished Swayze’s ‘ghost’ and now I can’t stop thinking about post-Hell Dean, where the reader has his iconic brown leather jacket hanging in her room thinking she’s never gonna see him again but he shows up in her room (in a non creepy way as much as possible lol) and they fuuuuck like old times and she thinks she’s dreaming until she realises it’s actually him (or not lol) but the romanticism is screaming out to me, idk if it’s something you’d be interested in writing but omfg you’d write this so painfully well

ANON!! i LOVE LOVE LOVE this SO much! i’m so honoured that you’ve entrusted me with this idea—i had the time of my life writing this & went a lil wild with it LOL. thank you for your support and kind words, it means the world to me! i hope i did your request justice 🩵

─ ۶ৎ ─

────────── ᝰ bluemerakis ༝༚༝༚ ───

❝ sunshine ❞

─ ۶ৎ ─

pairing ୨୧ dean winchester x fem!reader

warnings .ᐟ s4!spoilers, established relationship, dramatic descriptions of grief, cussing, angst, sam being an adorable little angel, nip sucking, unprotected sex p in v, tooth-rotting fluff. lmk if I forgot any! if there are typos, no there isn’t

synopsis ─ after dean had sealed the deal that warranted him a one-way ticket to hell, you had no hopes of ever seeing him again. you were overcome with a grief that felt inescapable, but with sam’s help, you’d managed to pull through the storm and enter clearer skies. just when you thought you’d have to navigate a new life without dean, against all odds, he makes an unexpected appearance.

word count ~ roughly 15k

──────────────────────

Four months.

The duration of your ongoing turmoil. The grim tally of his absence.

For four months, you’d been trapped in the stagnant bog of your grief. It had formed the very first night you’d lost him, seizing your mind like a rabid plague. It didn’t matter which way you attempted to swim, or how hard you paddled to try and stay afloat, there was no sure escape from its bottomless depth. It immobilised your existence, broke down your hope—scattered it like falling leaves to be lapped up by the famished surface and swallowed to the point of no return. It was lonely and suffocating, but you’d since given up on waiting for a lifeline to be cast from some land beyond your gloomy horizon, so sure that you’d isolated yourself from any soul kind enough to try.

Except for Sam.

Sam had tried to rescue you many times, but the lines he casted were always too battered—chewed up by the demons of his own grief. And you knew that if you grabbed onto it—where he stood barely clinging to the other end—it would snap and pull him right in. You couldn’t do that to him, so you’d surrendered to the bog entirely, allowing your grief to engulf you into its endless, bone-chilling nothingness. And each day, you sank further and further, like the dead weight of a stone, drifting down into the pits of your despair. Your living, breathing death.

A slow, agonising journey of digestion—your body, mind and soul disseminating into nothing.

Reaching rock bottom hadn’t taken long, not when you’d been left feeling so shallow by the robbery of your life’s meaning. And you’d laid there ever since, slowly deteriorating, slowly drowning. Over and over and over again. You could have said that you were losing every part of yourself, but you hadn’t been whole to begin with, not for a long time—not since losing him.

If he were here, he could have saved you from yourself. But he wasn’t. And you hated him for it.

You hated him. For striking a deal with the devil. For placing his life on the line without a second breath. For lying to you about it. For even thinking that nobody would notice the dead space left behind. There were certain days that tended to plunge that hateful knife—already engrossed in your heart—a little deeper. A day like this morning.

The day that marked the anniversary of Dean Winchester’s death.

On the first day without him, you’d spent your time trying to fight it—forced smiles, laughs of denial, stares that didn’t linger on any of his belongings for too long. But it was hard not to come face to face with his memory when the ghost of his existence seemed to prowl after you at every turn and every corner of the apartment. His favourite coffee mug with an infamous chip on the rim. The frozen, pasty pies he’d crammed the freezer full of. Six packs of canned beers stocked along the pantry’s top shelf. His discarded shoes. His sparse watch collection. The shampoo bottle he’d diluted to last a month longer.

And that damn leather jacket, which currently draped from the frame of your desk chair.

It hung there like a museum exhibit—the memory of Dean Winchester, frozen in time. The jacket he’d left behind on the day he’d slipped your life for good. You hadn’t once touched it. You couldn’t bring yourself to lay your fingers across the leather when there’d be no warmth radiating through its fabric to soothe you—couldn’t face the fact that it’d reflect the cold, empty truth of it all. So there it laid, collecting dust and slowly drowning beneath the suffocating, grey sea without a merciful hand to liberate it. It was a cruel parallel of your own withering state.

Every morning, your eyes would peel through a hollow sleep, and the first thing they’d settle on was that damn jacket. Every. Single. Time. As if you needed the constant recap on top of everything else. You could have mustered up the courage to move it some place else that’d finally warrant the motto out of sight, out of mind. But the naive fool that had created that saying failed miserably at accounting for the woes of the brain. Once scorched into memory, nothing would ever truly be forgotten. You’d remember regardless of where that jacket lay—a curse bound to your life, never to be broken.

Unless you broke first.

You shifted at the heart of your king-sized bed, your head sinking back into your plumy pillow as you gazed up at the ceiling. At anything but that jacket. Your limbs sprawled out between the cotton sheets, taking maximum advantage to voyage the sea of space left at your disposal. While a mattress this large and luxurious should’ve offered you a sense of comfortable freedom, you couldn’t help but mourn all the space—space that at one point, had been occupied by him.

The gentle, golden glare of dawn had begun its steady journey into the room, letting itself in almost shyly through the slits of your curtains. The meek sunbeams sliced through the dim atmosphere you’d found solice within, and you watched as dust particles began to waltz around one another through the bronzed air—as if they’d been cast into the centre of the ballroom. Around and around they swirled in perfect, mirrored harmony. You thought it looked a lot like a courting display—more mental imagery to emphasise your loneliness.

For a second, some faded image—a memory—flashed across your mind. Yourself and Dean, taking to the neglected dance floor of a bar nearing its closing time. A half-emptied beer bottle clutched in his one hand as his other linked with yours, serving as the leash that dragged your protesting form to its debut on the dance floor.

You’d never been too confident in your dancing skills, a fact you’d tried many times to disclose, but Dean had been insistent. Somewhere behind you, Sam had whooped from the comfort of the booth you’d both discarded, and when you’d glanced back at the younger Winchester, he had his beer-adorned hand raised into the air as a cheer. You’d scoffed with a heavy thanks for nothing.

When you’d turned back to Dean, he’d drawn up in his tracks without any prior warning, causing you to crash not-so-elegantly into his torso. Instinctively, your free palm had lurched forward to cradle his chest in a steadying motion, your chin tilting up to grace him with a stunned giggle.

The drink he’d throttled in his other hand sloshed with the jolt, foam tumbling over the nozzle’s edge like a provoked volcano’s tantrum. It slathered his fingers and trickled to the floor, adding fresh patterns to the aged, sticky blotches already scattered amidst the young night.

“Woah, easy there, tiger,” he’d laughed, but the hand that’d dragged you here released your fingers only to form a seductive curve at the small of your back. There, he’d pulled you in even closer, his lips closing in on you with the promise of a love-sick kiss. But instead, his jaw had dipped past your temple, lips grazing your cheekbone before hovering at your ear. “There’s nuff o’ me to go ‘round without you jumpin’ ship for the first spot,” he husked. You’d practically felt the grin spreading his lips.

You’d ducked your head away from his with a hearty huff. “Down, boy,” you’d scoffed, hands trailing up his chest to crown either shoulder with a natural ease. The touch had been smooth, magnetic. And maybe you two were like magnets, utterly obsessed with being intangible, and eager to keep on exploring every inch of one another with a shifting touch rather than be torn apart.

Dean’s eyes had lowered to the naughty line you’d drawn to his shoulders, the grin he’d taken up deepening enough to suction his cheeks into the dimples you’d come to adore. When he’d acquainted your eyes again, it was through a heavy-lidded stare that promised all sorts of activities to reciprocate your tantalising touch. “Oh, I’ll get down, alright,” he’d chuckled hoarsely, leaving the line open to interpretation as he brought his beer to his lips. He’d downed a slow, deliberate sip, his eyes not once straying from yours as he watched you mentally decipher his words.

“You know what? Enough of your games,” you’d laughed, hands slipping from his chest to forsake the dance floor before you’d have a chance to make it regret hosting you. You’d attempted to turn tail and flee, but Dean’s hand had found your wrist in a firm, yet gentle tug, and then you were held prisoner under those hypnotising eyes once more. Your lips had split to offer some final protest, but his own lips puckered into a shushing pout that had you clamping down on your tongue.

“Don’t say anythin’, just dance with me,” he’d instructed, and then the hand tethering you to him lifted, your arm following the motion like a chain effect. Against your will, you were spun around in an awkward, off-timed circle that deviated abominably from the background music. When you came to face him once more, his chest had rattled with a laugh a little too passionate for your liking. “That was adorable—like a toddler learnin’ she’s got the gears but don’t quite know which she’s shiftin’.”

Your cheeks had seared hot at that comment, free hand diving forward to shove his chest lightly. “Stop—I warned you!” You’d simpered.

“Hey!” He’d laughed, beer-occupied hand lifting in a gesture of innocence. “I’m only playin’! You’ll get the hang o’ it—I’ll teach ya. Watch.” Your hand lifted under his guidance as he executed his own spin—even more sprawled and ridiculous than yours had been. Your free hand had flown to cradle your mouth as a disbelieved chortle blared through, and as Dean came to face you once more, his brows were lifted in question. “Eh? I’m a natural, yeah?”

You’d giggled into your palm again before dropping your hand back to your side, lips pursing with amusement. “Let’s just say that I don’t think either of us should be teaching the other,” you’d huffed through a pained smile.

Dean lowered your joined hands to the space between you. “Well,” he’d begun, pulling you into his frame once more, like he just couldn’t get enough of your presence—like he wanted it to hog him. “Guess we just gotta. . . y’know, feel this one out together,” he’d murmured suggestively, eyes narrowing with cheek while he released your hand to settle into its natural hold at the small of your back.

You’d leaned your smirk-heavy lips closer to his with a content hum, your hands coming to wrap around his neck. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll follow if you lead.” He’d grinned approvingly at that, tugging you along to a slow and steady sway of the bodies, which you’d succumbed to and harmonised with in no time—much to your surprise.

“Sammy!” Dean had called to his younger brother, his eyes not once straying from yours as he presented his beer in the direction of the booth. “All yours for the takin’.” He’d paused to steal a glance at your beaming lips. “I got my own special o’ the night.”

You’d laughed at that, and Dean’s charm had grown all the more potent as he stretched out the dance between the two of you for what felt like a good couple of hours. In the background, the music in bad taste had blared on, ever so eager to cheapen the moment between the two of you, but you’d become so enthralled with one another that all else around you was drowned out, anyway.

Both his hands had selfishly hoarded your lower back, pressing you so far into him that you’d stumbled around his feet more times than you’d have liked to admit. But you’d remained steadied by the hands furled around his neck, and comforted by the gentle, reciprocated press of your foreheads, gazing into the sanctuary of one another’s eyes.

If you’d known then, in that moment, that Dean Winchester was going to die, you’d have held onto him a little longer—and probably never have let go. Even if it killed you, too.

With a heavy, rattled rise of your chest, you came back to your grim present, drawing in a long and shaky breath. You shifted between the sheets to roll onto your side, arm coming up beneath the underside of your pillow to cradle it like an emotional support teddy. You tuned your attention to your curtain-clad windows, and like a corpse, you continued to rot away within your coffin of a mattress, watching idly as the sun continued to announce its ascent.

It wasn’t long before warm golds drained into a paler shades that fully lit your room now—the official statement of a new day. But still, you didn’t stir. The curtains remained cast, the windows crammed closed as tightly as they’d been left about a week ago, and your soul feeling anything but renewed to tackle this heavy day head on.

Somewhere beyond your wall, footsteps thrummed lightly down the hallway. Now and again, you’d let yourself believe that they belonged to Dean, on his way to brew you both a morning cuppa—just to offer some pathetic, fleeting slither of comfort. But nothing—nobody could ever fill those shoes left behind. It hadn’t stopped Sam from trying, though.

Before Dean’s. . . disappearance, the brothers had stayed together in the larger room of your two-bedroom apartment—nothing like reliving the good old times, right? It didn’t much bother either one of them, given that Dean had slept in your bed on most nights, leaving the space feeling basically like Sam’s own. The dynamic between you all worked well, and it was practical for a hunter’s lifestyle. Costs were cut, perimeters familiarised and mapped out, and the shared company between you all was reliable. Trustworthy.

You’d become a blended family of some sort. You didn’t think there was any external force that could’ve torn you all apart. But you hadn’t accounted for an inside job. Hadn’t accounted for the weak link that was you.

After Dean’s death, you’d gone into a self-destructive spiral, eager to push anybody and everybody away while you feigned bravery. But Sam had clocked you like an open book, and it made him the hottest target of your impulsive ire.

You couldn’t stand looking at the younger Winchester, how he served as a constant reflection of your own grief—the grief you’d tried so hard to drown out. You knew you should have bonded with him over your shared loss, and the younger Winchester had tried everything to utilise that angle to be there for you, but it’d only made you push back harder. You half expected him to walk out after the first week, but you’d forgotten how deep-rooted stubborness ran within the Winchester bloodline.

Sam had continued to stick around. Why was beyond you. You could have argued that it was because he’d come to love you like a sister, but you couldn’t help the feeling that Dean had made him promise to look out for you, should he ever bite the dust. And it made you hate him more. Because if it were the latter, it meant that Dean had always intended to stay en route on the sacrificial pathway you’d tried countless times to swerve him from. And it meant that loving you hadn’t been reason enough for him to become sidetracked.

If only he’d held out a little longer and put off making that damned deal, you could have continued searching for a solution that didn’t end with either of the Winchesters’ deaths. But deep down, you knew that fate hadn’t written that ending down in any of her books. That continuing to skim page after page would have done nothing but waste minutes paid in blood. Deep down, you knew that Dean had no other choice, but it didn’t make you hate him any less for choosing it.

The faint clanking of utensils transcended the walls, indicating that Sam had worked himself into the kitchen. It was like a routine now. Every morning, the same time. You thought he might’ve craved some taste of control over his life by instilling this morning pattern he now followed so religiously.

You envied how well he seemed to hold himself together, despite it being his blood that had passed on. It made you feel invalidated in all your mourning. After all, if he could move on from the loss of his brother, whom he’d known all his life, why couldn’t you move on from a man you’d known for a pitiful number that paled in comparison?

As they so often did, your thoughts rampaged for a while longer, so eager to hold you captive between the sheets. But eventually, you felt the pit of neglect burrowed into your stomach gape wider, something that you couldn’t ignore any longer.

Your head turned to glimpse the plates you’d stacked atop the bedside table over the last few days. Almost all of them held meals that you’d scarcely picked at, meals Sam had cooked you, and they were starting to smell. It wasn’t doing much to help encourage the full return of your appetite. But still, you had to eat—something fresher, of course.

Eventually, you mustered up the courage to stir and shed the sheets, your week-old pyjamas falling limp around your frame as you shovelled your weight onto wilted legs. You stood for a moment, taking in this new pull of gravity, before angling yourself toward the door.

At the corner of your eye, it beckoned to you. You shouldn’t have looked, shouldn’t have given it the attention it so desperately craved, but how could you stand steadfast when you were crippled with the need to reminisce him during every waking moment? So you buckled, like you always did, and turned to glance over the waiting leather jacket.

It beamed a little brighter this time around, illuminated by the sun’s pale touch. It looked almost angelic, and you could have sworn that new life had been bestowed upon it—like a reincarnation. But no matter how long you stared, no body seemed to materialise between its hold to glorify that hope. Still no Dean Winchester to show for it.

So much for having faith.

With a barely audible scoff, you finally tore your gaze away and trudged toward your bedroom door. You reached for the handle, fingers hovering over the cool metal as you took a moment to think about what’d you say to Sam. Starting with an apology would probably be ideal, followed up by a looping string of thank yous for everything he’s done. You swallowed thickly before tightening your hold, the mechanism clicking open with a brash sound that cut through your senses. And then, like a ghost, you neglected your grave and slunk into the hallway.

When you traipsed into the open-plan apartment on light, reluctant feet, your eyes wandered over to the kitchen at the corner, where Sam had already made himself comfortable at the hot lip of the stove. His back was turned on you, but you caught the whisk of his arms as he executed an impressive flip of something within the skillet. It landed with a muffled thump, a result that had Sam hissing out a noise of satisfaction.

A shy, smoky ghost levitated above the Winchester, and it wasn’t long before the cracked kitchen window wafted a clue in your direction—the sweet tang of pancakes tickling your nose. Usually, it was a smell that had you inhaling a little deeper, like you couldn’t miss savouring even a scrap of its existence. Now, the smell roused nothing other than a faint reminder of just how much you didn’t crave breakfast. Or anything, for that matter. But still, duty called. More like your stomach would begin eating itself if you insisted on starving it for a day longer.

With a practiced breath of bravery, you picked your way past the living room sofas, your sock-clad feet scuffling across the floor with a severe lack of motivation. As you approached the kitchen island, you spotted a can of sweetened whipped cream—your favourite—and a bowl of berries straddling the plated, ever-growing stack of pancakes. It was the complete picture your stomach needed to enlist the first of its rumbling, but you hadn’t had much of a mental appetite for quite some time. The simple joy you’d once held for eating had been boiled down to the dull necessity of sustenance—you ate only because your body needed fuel. Anything more than that just wasn’t worth feeling.

And, truthfully, it was a baffling, new reality because there was a time you'd have nagged the boys to drive you halfway across the country to try some new cuisine you'd seen advertised across billboards. You’d scribble down the names of the niche diners and renowned restaurants in your trusty notebook to be reviewed on the trips back to the motels, heated debates unfolding as the brothers either vouched for or condemned your idea of a good meal. Now, the memories were so distant that you'd started to wonder whether they'd even existed. Whether that version of you still existed.

You brought up the rear of one of the kitchen chairs, moving a hand to cradle your protesting stomach while the other outstretched to retract the chair at the rim. The sudden, intrusive screech of wood against wood was enough to startle Sam into a growing awareness of his surroundings. He pivoted on his heels to face you, the pan making a reflexive dive in your direction in what was meant to be some pitiful means of a defence. The white of his eyes blared through, his tall frame ducking slightly as he assumed a defensive position.

Your composure didn’t falter as you slunk into the seat; his reaction wasn’t any surprise, not when you lead the adrenaline-laced life of a hunter forced to guard their six on a daily. And you doubted he’d expected any company after you’d basically stopped existing outside of your room these last couple of days—and at this early hour, no less.

What did surprise you, though, was that the pancake had managed to cling to the metal of the skillet in the midst of his jolt.

As Sam drank in your familiar form, his broad shoulders sagged visibly under his growing relaxation, the vice grip he’d unintentionally taken up around the pan’s handle now relenting an inch.

“Oh,” he stuttered out, a flustered half-chuckle diffusing his misplaced adrenaline. He slunk toward the island with his head slightly bowed, his gaze flickering between you and the pan. “Hey,” he murmured, his lips pursing shortly after the meek sound, as though he were afraid to let the wrong words slip. His caution wasn’t misplaced; you hadn’t exactly been kind to him these last few days.

It usually went that way around this time of the month. The days stepping up to the anniversary of Dean’s death tended to trip you right into the worst vision of yourself. You were more sullen than usual, losing patience over minuscule things, and sinking jaws of hostility into anybody who’d even attempted to offer hollow words of comfort.

Bobby had been the first to withdraw with some muttered crap of I’m too old for this shit. But Sam had always been too forgiving. He’d stuck around regardless of your temper, taking all the verbal beatings while he tended to your unspoken needs in ways that you couldn’t. You owed him so much more than you were capable of giving at this time.

You leaned onto the cool marble of the island, your hands coming forward in a timid fold as your lips flattened into a pathetic spectacle of a smile. “Hey, Sam,” you murmured, and for a second, the sound startled you. It was so dull, so lifeless—you’d even go so far as to say that it was so unlike you.

It was a stark contrast to the version of yourself the brothers had learnt to tolerate, maybe even appreciate—constant chatter and running commentary streaming live from the backseat of the impala. Dean had gone so far as to nickname you sunshine and rainbows, trailing after the twin storm clouds—the Winchesters—that seemed to thunder down on the unassuming world. But now, you felt like nothing more than the rolling, gloomy skies that paved way for everything wet, woeful and destructive. A weather so devastating that a show of a rainbow would be a mockery rather than a promise.

Sam returned your smile almost sheepishly, his head dipping to drink in the view of the counter. “You, uh. . . you sleep alright?” He asked, the pan coming forward to leer you over as he tipped the metal downwards and crowned the seasoned stack of pancakes with the fresh newcomer.

Your eyes lowered to the newest addition of the pancake pile, following the faint trails of heat that seemed to rise with a freedom and lightness you craved to feel. “Yeah,” you lied, your lower lip instantly pulled into a tense bite. “Yeah, I slept. . . fine.”

You knew that Sam wasn’t convinced, the moment of silence following after evidence of some tactic he might’ve been mentally reviewing to try and coax the truth from you. You began tracing a line along the patterns of the marble counter with your index finger, anticipating the awkward conversation to come.

“Come on, really?” He laughed softly, but the sound was gentle and sympathetic, not slathered with amusement or scorn. “‘Cause I didn’t,” he confessed.

You glanced up at him in surprise, your finger halting in its place. “Really?” You breathed out softly, instant relief crashing over you. Maybe Sam hadn’t recovered as much as you thought he had, and as unfortunate as that was, you couldn’t help but feel slightly comforted—less alone.

He tipped his head to the side in consensus, a wry scoff piercing his lips. “Honestly? Can’t remember the last time I did,” he said, eyes flickering up to glance you over briefly before he turned his back on you to discard the pan at the sink. He slid over to the stove, flicking buttons and shifting dishes before he was back at the island. “I mean, I sleep—but just. . . not very well.” He took up a spatula and began shovelling at the pancake stack. “One?” He asked intuitively.

“One’s perfect,” you said. You watched as he dragged the rim of the spatula down the building of pancakes, stopping somewhere around the middle floor before he slid the utensil inward. He shimmied out a hot and fluffy pick, placing it onto your plate rather gingerly before he nudged it in your direction. “Thanks, Sam,” you murmured, receiving it with a forced show of eagerness—you didn’t want your lack of an appetite to make things more personal than they already felt.

“Yeah, anytime,” he answered, sparing you a soft smile before he took to plating his own stack of three.

You held off on digging into your singular pancake, hands idling around the knife and fork bracketing your plate as you waited for the younger Winchester to cover up the remainder of the breakfast.

With a satisfied dusting of his palms, he finally pushed his own plate across the marble to slide in a distance beside yours before he made his way around the island. He pulled out the seat beside you and settled himself down with a heavy plop and an appreciative grunt—almost like an old man of some sorts.

He took up his cutlery and glanced over at you with a comforting smile. “Time to, uh. . . dig in, I guess,” he laughed lightly. “There’s whipped cream and berries if you’d like.” His chin jutted to the listed toppings, and then his knifed hand jolted into the air suddenly. “Oh, and there’s syrup, too. I’ll fetch it from the pantry.”

Without waiting for your response, he set down the cutlery and shifted back in his chair, but you turned your body a slither to face him before he could slip away as quickly as your nerve.

“Sam, wait,” you said, your hands straying from the table to bundle in your lap in an anxious toying of fingers.

He halted in place almost instantly, turning to face you with his brows quirked an inch—like your sudden unrest was news to him. But you knew he was only trying to be polite in playing his attentive part; he likely knew exactly what this was about. “Yeah?”

You drank in his softened eyes, and they held so much purity and innocence that it caused your heart to sag with a fresh, guilt-ridden heaviness. It tugged your head down to the view of your lap, your chest heaving with a shuddering inhale. “I’m so sorry,” you blurted out, your voice rattled by so much regret that it began to quiver.

At the edge of your vision, you saw Sam settle back into his seat, arms drawing onto the counter. “Hey,” he cooed gently. “It’s oka—”

“No, it’s not okay,” you cut in hastily. “I need to say this. I’m sorry for everything—for the way I acted. . . for the things I said—you didn’t deserve any of it, Sam.” You began picking at the skin of your nails. “I just, I have all this. . . anger inside of me. I’m angry at myself, and I’m angry at Dean—I’m angry at everything cause everything’s just so fucking unfair. And I know that it’s not an excuse, but I just. . . I figured. . . I don’t know. There’s a lot I don’t know,” you scoffed, but you braved face and lifted your head to face him once more. “But I do know that I am truly, deeply sorry.”

Sam’s head lowered to take in the view of his plate, his eyes darting about the porcelain. “Listen,” he eventually murmured, his mouth stuttering around air as he searched for the right words. Eventually, he settled on grace. “I get it, okay?” His chin lifted to gift you with a break you didn’t think you deserved. “All that anger inside of you. . . I’ve felt it before—more than I’d like to admit, actually,” he laughed dryly before his expression warped into something more solemn. “It eats you up inside. . . makes you say and do things you wouldn’t usually say or do. There are so many times I’ve gone down that road, but Dean—he’s always been there to pull me back, even if it was by the tip of my ear.” He laughed again, this time more genuine, and you couldn’t help but crack a smile of your own.

Sam’s head lowered again, his smile simmering away. “Anyway, I guess what I’m tryna say is that, I get it. I get why you said the things you did, and I’m not mad about it. For once, I don’t feel that anger anymore.”

Slowly, your fingers began to still their fidgeting as you listened to him talk, your chest cooperating by letting up on its rapid pace.

The younger winchester upturned his eyes to yours with a new ferocity. “I’m here for you. I’m always gonna be here for you—and not just because I owe Dean that much, but because you’ve been there for me, too. So many times. Even at my. . .” He trailed off as he averted his gaze to the side, some unspoken shame breaching his conscious. You saw his Adam’s Apple bop under a heavy swallow before he turned back to you. “Even at my worst,” he continued. “So. . . don’t worry about it, really. I get it.”

For the first time in a long time, you found your eyes watering an emotion other than grief and heartbreak—something far lighter and rejuvenating. Love. Appreciation. Relief. You envied Sam’s ability to barrel through this cruel life so determined to pin him down, and you admired how each time, he seemed to emerge with a heart even larger than before. Even after all the rounds you’d emptied into his chest, he stood tall, still offering that hand you so desperately needed to pull you from your self-dug trenches.

Maybe, it was about time you finally took it.

The first tear slipped the keep of your eye, jettisoned from the ledge of your cheekbone to where it splattered across the marble top. Your hand flew to wipe the moisture away, an ugly sniff racking your chest. There was a clank of shifting metal before Sam’s hand came forward to brush your shoulder.

“Hey,” he cooed softly, and then you were carefully tugged into the side of his towering frame. “Come here,” he urged, and he was so gentle that it had you fully succumbing to his hold without a single reflexive need to resist. His arm snaked around your shoulder blades to hook around your arm as he drew you into a tight hug, your hands bundling further into your lap. “It’ll be okay. We’ll get through this. Together,” he added pointedly, a clear warning that he didn’t intend to let you get your lonely way again. You were okay with that.

Your lower lip began quivering with fresh emotion—guilt bouncing on the rim the heaviest. “I’m so sorry, Sam,” you reiterated.

Your felt his chin settle into the crown of your head, the vibration bouncing off your hair. “For what? Being human?” He laughed. “In case you haven’t noticed, we tend to be dicks from time to time, and I’d say hunters have more right than most to be a bigger one now and again.”

You laughed—actually laughed at that, the sound snotty and slightly gross, but real. Sam harmonised with his own throaty chuckle, the hand furled around your arm in a tight, reassuring grip relenting to rub comforting lines up and down the expanse.

“Now, enough of the pity party. Let’s finish these pancakes before they get cold, and then what do you say we pull out a couple of board games?” He gave you one last comforting squeeze before slowly releasing you from the hug.

You leaned away from him, centring your weight back over your own chair as you turned your head down to your plate with a thoughtful pout. “Okay,” you agreed, your chin ducking in tiny, accepting nods. You sniffed away the lingering tears, hand coming up to pat your eyes one last time for good measure. Then, your head swivelled to face him as you put on a weak smile. “Hey—think you’re smart enough to challenge me to a game of scrabble?”

Sam laughed as though your challenge was satire, but you frowned with slight offence, which sobered his smile into a look of confusion. “Wha—you’re serious?” He huffed, jaw gaped around disbelief.

“And why wouldn’t I be?” You exclaimed, your voice cracking around a light giggle—the first you’d uttered in a while. “I’m as smart as you are—we read the same books!”

His averted his gaze, head cocking to the side with a scoff before he glanced back at you in amusement. “Yeah, and after you gave your reports, I had to go back and reread every single one of those books to fill in information you left out,” he said pointedly.

You shook your head with light disbelief, a thin chuckle following after. “You know what? Let’s have that round, and if you win, you can bullshit my literacy skills all you like. Deal?” You outstretched your hand across the counter.

Sam’s gaze ducked to the gesture, his brows cocking on a look that you thought was a little too smug, before his hand reached to link with yours in an informal pact. “Deal,” he said through a scheming smirk.

You squeezed his hand lightly as a warning. “Wipe that douche-display off your lips, nothing’s set in stone.”

“Yeah, no, of course,” he replied nonchalantly, but when your hands unlinked, you saw the corner of his mouth hitch with some mental remark.

“All right, that’s it.” You took up your utensils while Sam glanced you over with slight surprise. You began digging into your pancake with a renewed sense, plopping the first piece into your mouth and taking on a ferocious chew. There was a brief wave of nausea at the food’s sudden intrusion before it quickly dissipated at the sweet taste, beckoning you back for another bite.

“You might wanna slow down there,” he laughed, hands tending to his own plate before they finally presented his first bite to his lips with far more poise.

“Uh uh,” you hummed through a mouthful, swallowing thickly before continuing. “I got a lot riding on this. You made it personal when you brought my ego into this. Sooner we’re done here, sooner I can beat you.”

Sam let out a disbelieved laugh, but didn’t argue any further as he began dissembling his own pancakes at a faster rate. Once you’d both lapped down the dough and licked the plates clean, you’d taken to washing up the dishes and wiping down the counters while Sam procured the board games that had long since collected dust. You’d taken the liberty of microwaving you both a bowl of popcorn and pouring glasses of soda while he set out the game within the living room. Then, you both settled down for the first round, snacks at the ready.

Sam had won, as he’d so smugly anticipated. But you weren’t so eager to be humiliated without a challenge, so for the rest of the day, you’d played out the game to a tally of the most wins. Hours seemed to pass like the impression of a second, the apartment growing dimmer and dimmer with each trailing retreat of the sun.

Eventually, you were both cast in a saturated bronze that poured in through the living room windows, illuminating the score page you’d scribbled up and further glorifying Sam’s final win. He took the game by far, and you were forced to acknowledge that maybe he was the smarter one of you both. Or at least the more apt thinker.

After that, you’d both powered through a movie of his choice, chowing down on some Chinese takeout he’d had delivered. And you emptied the carton down to the last noodle, appeasing the appetite you’d developed somewhere throughout the day. Already, you felt so much lighter—physically and mentally—and you knew that you owed it all to Sam and his perseverence. You couldn’t help but beam with some newfound appreciation for the younger Winchester.

Through the darkness, the tv screen emitted just enough light to illuminate Sam’s side profile. His eyes were glued to the screen, jaw circulating hasty chews as he practically inhaled his second bowl of popcorn. The sight made you shake your head with light amusement, and you watched him a little longer just for the sake of it.

“Hey, Sam?” You eventually called, which made him face you with a look of sudden concern.

His hand halted within his bowl. “Yeah?”

“Thank you. For today—for everything.” You offered him a warm, appreciative smile. He’d given you something you desperately needed today—a distraction. From everything and most definitely from yourself. Debts like those didn’t feel possible to repay, but you’d try, regardless. As long as it took.

Sam took a moment to drink in your words, his features motionless before his brows furrowed like he’d made nothing of your gesture. “Yeah, no problem,” he answered, a smile to match yours following shortly after. You both turned your attention back to the screen, and for the rest of the movie, you sat in comfortable, popcorn-tinged silence.

Once the movie came to an end, you’d both chatted about anything and everything until the first person let a yawn slip—that person being you. After that, you’d both tidied up the space, folded the blankets and packed the games back into their keep. Then, you’d dipped into your room to gather your old dishes, discarding the food and washing up the plates. Sam had helped pack it all away.

Once the day’s chores were wrapped up, you’d both exchanged your nightly greetings before going your separate ways. Sam retreated back to his room, though not without snagging a thick book from the shared reading shelf. You’d briefly slipped into your own room to pull out a fresh set of pyjamas and a towel before dipping your toes into a much needed shower.

Once you felt you’d scrubbed off enough of your week-long rot, you’d slunk from the shower and back to your room to call it a day. When you clicked the door closed behind you, you hovered on the spot with a hearty sigh into the dim atmosphere. You took a moment to reflect on the day, and for once, it provoked a smile—not sadness, not anger, not grief—but a genuine smile. The relief after the storm.

You flicked on the light and dressed yourself into your fresh set of clothes, teeth brushed and hair secured back before you flicked the lights off and sank into your bed with a new type of exhaustion. A fulfilling one. It wasn’t long before sleep arrived to hurl you into vivid dreams, and not unlike other times, you dreamt of Dean.

Within your bed, he had you bare and sprawled out beneath his own nude figure, his lips wandering gentle, curious trails along the side of your jaw before dipping down the ledge to trawl the arch of your neck. His elbows propped him up on either side of your head as he took his time to lovingly brand you with his wet caress, your own hands combing blissful strokes through his hair.

You sank back into your pillow, lips parting with breathy mewls as he shifted his attention down to your breasts. He moved to cup one tenderly, tongue swirling a loop around the hardened bud, his strained moan sprawling into the mix of stimulation as you tightened your hold within his hair.

“Dean,” you exhaled weakly, for no reason other than to verbalise the unorthodox way he made you feel. Your teeth found your lower lip in a restrained nibble as he acknowledged your absent-minded praise with a gentle kneading of your breast—as if he sought to gorge on it to the point of total devouring.

You felt the blood flow vigorously to your chest, spurred onward by the suctioning of his lips, and it pooled at your nipple, causing it to throb within his hold. You let slip a soft noise of discomfort, your hand collapsing from his hair to gently push him back at the collarbone.

Dean’s head lifted to yours, a slight pant wafting from his glistening lips. “All good there, sunshine?” He murmured, hand slipping from your breast to run a light, reassuring finger across your cheek. He smudged away the moisture beading along your skin before settling his thumb in the divot of your chin.

“Too much,” you breathed through a dazed grin, hand coming up to gently wrap around his wrist. “You’re like a leech,” you added with a soft giggle.

His lips thinned in a proud smirk, encouraged by your tease rather than offended. “Damn right I am—have you tasted you? Freakin’ delicious,” he praised, smacking his lips in a dramatic show and tell. It made you giggle and release his wrist to pin his lips between your thumb and index finger, and you held them captive while he mumbled noises of protest. He looked so ridiculous, it warmed your heart.

“Stop that!” You laughed, your cheeks flushing hot at the silly sight of him.

Dean wiggled his lips between your grasp until he was able to wrap his lips around a finger, nibbling your skin tenderly so that you released a light squeal and pulled away from his famished lips. “Stop what?” He mocked lightheartedly, head lowering down to you as he followed after your retreating hand with a determined grin playing his lips.

Your hands flew to your chest in a pretence of helplessness, your giggles elevating to a heartier laugh as he pretended to chase after them. His teeth acquainted the air all around them with animated chomps, but made no good on the promise. Eventually, he gave up the hunt and pressed his lips to the side of your jaw, gradually tracing his way up to the soft curve of your cheek before he drew back an inch to gaze into your eyes.

“My sunshine,” he said softly, adoringly, leaning down to nuzzle the button of your nose with his own before he placed a soft kiss there.

Your heart trilled love-struck melodies around Dean’s proud declaration, the magnitude of your smile hoisting up the apples of your cheeks until your eyes were compressed into half-moons. “Say it again,” you murmured, palms drifting up to frame his face and thumbs twiddling to soothe the humps of his cheeks.

Your touch set Dean’s composure alight, his sultry stare softening into something more pure and needy. His eyes narrowed as he gazed down at you, as though you had captured his complete and undivided attention. You found yourself getting so wrapped up in their green depths that for a second, it felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“You’re my sunshine,” he repeated in a voice so low and soft that it bordered a husky whisper, but the love imbued into those words carried through as clear as a shout. “I don’t care if that sounds like the title of a Jane Austen novel. You’ve got this. . . fire to you, the kind that nobody—nothin’ can gank. And you draw people into your orbit like they’d never stood a damn chance. Trust me, I sure as hell didn’t,” he laughed, both his hands coming up as a unit to brush back the hair framing your face. “And you’re warm. . .” He trailed off to place a kiss on your cheek, “—and radiant—” and then the other. “And my whole goddamn universe.”

You gazed at him as he pulled away from your proximity, his eyes brimming with love as he waited for your response. What you wanted to say was, “I knew you read Jane Austin in your free time!”, a harmless poke that would keep this tender moment elevated at meaningful heights. Then you’d both share a laugh, and melt into the night cocooned within each other’s warmth.

But deep down, something more solemn tugged at the strings of your heart—an unanswered question that slowly began to resurface despite your attempt to bury it time and time again. So instead, you said, “then how could you leave me?”

Dean’s face warped into a light frown, your question catching him off guard. For a few seconds, he did nothing but stare, his lips parting to search for an answer that you’d waited months to hear. But when he looked as though he might finally answer, no sound carried through to lay your suspense to rest. His mouth gaped and his lips moved, but they formed nonsensical words, and no matter how hard you tried to focus and decipher your most craved confession, it never came to you.

Then, the scene around you began to distort, the lights cutting out and the shapes of the room’s decor warping erratically. And when you blinked, Dean had disappeared entirely—his atoms scattered into the cosmos of your mind. You tried to call out to him, to summon him back to his rightful place beside you, but it seemed as though he were destined to be robbed from the palm of your hands—both in the waking world, and in the confines of your own mind.

And then you, in your entirety, were dissolved into a black abyss, the surroundings melting away like you’d imagined it all in a vivid episode of mania. For a moment, you floated around in a void, your mind slowly dissociating from the fantasies of its own creation. You heard nothing, saw nothing, but somehow, you felt a touch lingering upon your arm. It was warm, familiar, and even though no face materialised to claim it, you knew that it was Dean.

You prepared yourself to mourn the loss of it once you emerged into the waking world, but as your eyes fluttered open, your lids blinking frantically to clear your vision, the touch didn’t fade. If anything, it became more palpable, solid—real. And when you’d adjusted enough to the dawn haze shrouding your room, it wasn’t the image of the leather jacket that arrived first to taunt you.

It was Dean.

You blinked harder, more desperately, your heart rate skyrocketing as you attempted to rationalise whatever fucked up delusion your exhausted mind was currently displaying you. But his body didn’t vaporise into nothingness, and blinking didn’t seem to possess the same parlour trick of making the rabbit disappear, like it did in your dreams.

It was real.

There he sat, as stoic as a statue, at the edge of your mattress, and the hand you’d felt cupping your arm stroked up the curve of your shoulder to gently frame your neck. The contact sent a shiver up your spine, your lips falling open to expel a shaky breath.

It can’t be, you thought, your brows contracting in a puzzled frown. He’s dead—he’s in hell, he can’t be here.

Through the dawn gloom, you could make out the faintest stretch of his lips—an almost simper. “Good mornin’, Sunshine.” But you didn’t recognise the voice. It was low, gruff and abraded, like his vocal cords had been extracted and sent through the grinder before being forcibly shoved back into its compartment. And he sounded dull, the type of dull you’d come to embody in his absence. It was. . . anything but Dean Winchester.

Your lower lip began to quiver, your shoulder drawing into yourself as you shied away from his touch. “This isn’t real,” you choked out, hastily collecting yourself onto your elbows as you sought to put some distance between you two. “You’re not real!” You exclaimed in rising volume, which had the impersonator stretching out both his hands in a steadying motion.

“You’ll wake Sammy,” he whispered urgently—a harsh sound that came across as more of a scold.

You frowned as you inched yourself a fraction across the mattress, eager to reach the end opposite to where he sat. “Who are you?” You demanded in a tone more regulated, your hand subtly reaching behind you to grab ahold of the salt container you kept on the bedside table like a framed picture.

Dean’s eyes seemed to follow your not-so-subtle play with dry amusement. “It’s me,” he insisted gruffly, his hands coming to settle on his knees—and one of them bounced with unspoken thoughts. It was a habit you’d come to recognise since knowing him, and it did a fraction of a favour in vouching for his authenticity. “It’s Dean,” he continued, eyes straying from your hands to settle onto your face.

“No,” you refused, and behind you, your fingers grabbed ahold of the salt. “Dean Winchester died—four months ago,” you explained in a low, but no less stern voice. “So I’m going to ask you again—who are you?”

His nostrils seemed to flare with dwindling patience, his eyes flickering off to the side. “Man, paranoia’s one son o’a bitch,” he scoffed under his breath before turning to face you again. “Listen, I know you’re not gonna believe me. And I also know that you’re about to baptise me with a shit ton o’ salt to barbecue the livin’ crap outta whatever demon you think’s got his hand stuck up my ass.” He began reaching into his shirt pocket. “Now, as much as I’d love to swallow a mouthful of killer blood pressu—” his words were cut short as you tossed a handful of salt in his direction, the mound not shying away from taking a bold dip in his mouth.

The assault dealt no physical damage to his body, but it did earn a passionate look of annoyance from Dean, whose jaw slowly circumducted as his tongue began shovelling the salty hell from his mouth. You scrutinised him for a few seconds longer, not so eager to let down your guard because of one passed test.

“You’re not a demon?” You asked more than stated.

His jaw fell limp at your question, a slow blink accentuating his displeasure. “Clearly not,” he said lowly, the words slurred by his unwillingness to taste the salt with proper pronunciation.

He leaned forward, hand reaching for the box of tissues sitting atop the beside table, and yanked a few free. He brought it up to his lips, where he spat furiously to cleanse his mouth. After a rough clearing of his throat, he bundled up the tissues, tossed it onto the table and glanced over at you once more. “Listen, I’ve already been through all the tests back at Bobby’s. I was goin’ to pull out the phone and get him on the line to clear me before you decided I needed some seasonin’,” he said flatly.

You watched him suspiciously, your brow quirking in disbelief. “Fine,” you said tensely, but offered nothing further.

Dean frowned lightly, his eyes doing a brief and clueless sweep of the room as though he expected you to offer more clarity. He settled his attention back onto you, his chin lifting slightly as he uttered a cautious, “okay.” He began reaching into his pocket once more, the movement deliberately slowed. “Just gonna reach for the phone, alright? So hands off the fuckin’ salt,” he said, eyes flickering between you and the container. “Please,” he added gruffly, and then his had retracted with the phone.

You prowled after his every move like a predator, but despite your weariness, you still lowered the salt an inch. You watched as he flicked open the phone, thumb gliding across the keypad as he pulled up Bobby’s number. Then, he lifted the phone to his ear, eyes trained on you with equal caution as he waited for the line to connect him to the opposite end.

You heard the static click, and a voice blared through shortly after—Bobby’s voice. The sound soothed your heart by a slither.

“Hey, Bobby,” Dean greeted, passing his tongue along his lower lip. “Listen, I, uh. . . I need ya to do that thing I told you I’d need—you know, vouchin’ for me and all.” On the other end of the line, Bobby uttered a few, incomprehensible words. “Yeah,” Dean laughed weakly. “Yeah. . . she threw me with the salt. Just like you said.” His eyes flickered to you with subtle amusement before Bobby said something else. Then, he was handing you the phone.

You narrowed your eyes in skepticism before your free hand reached for the phone, so careful not to graze his skin as you retrieved it from his fingers. Dean seemed to notice the rejection, and his mouth gaped slightly with the hurt it evoked. You pushed aside the image, but didn’t stray from his face as you brought the phone up to your ear.

“Hello?” You called into the line.

“Hey, kid, it’s me,” Bobby’s static voice answered. “Listen, I know you’re goin’ through one helluva mind-fuck right ‘bout now. . . but it’s ‘im, kid. It’s Dean.” He trailed into silence after those words, providing an interval he expected you’d fill with some sort of taken aback reaction. But all you could do was choke on your stunned silence, your heart beginning to ram at your chest harder than it’d ever managed before. “Kid? Y’still there?”

Dean’s eyes narrowed all-knowingly as he watched you in patient silence. His hand shifted from his lap an inch, like he yearned to reach out to you and offer some reassurance, but you both knew it’d do little to soothe you in this current predicament—the mental debate of whether or not the man you loved was really back.

Eventually, your body hosted a response, but it wasn’t one you’d preferred to have at this instant. A tear clotted along your one eye, bundling up until it was heavy enough to slip over the edge. Dean’s expression visibly softened, his jaw clenching with the knowledge that he couldn’t exactly pull you into a tight embrace—not just yet, anyway.

Your lips loosened, a rattled breath breaking through. “I saw his body, Bobby,” you pushed out in a quiver. Another tear lined the opposite cheek. “I watched you and Sam dig that fucking hole. . . and I watched you roll his lifeless, rotting corpse over the edge before cementing him under six fucking feet of dirt.”

The phone line hissed and crackled with the silent air on Bobby’s side. You almost thought he’d given up the ruse that you were so determined to believe you’d gotten caught up in, but then his voice blared through—the most tender and sympathetic you’ve ever heard it.

“I know you’re confused,” he began. “Hell, this shit had me believin’ that my family’s history of Alzheimer’s had finally kicked the bucket out from under me. But I did all the tests, and I interrogated him over and over again. I gave him hell, kid, but in the end, it’s really him. Y’know I wouldn’t have even thought ‘bout lettin’ him get close to ya if I weren’t certain o’ it. So if ya can’t trust ‘im just yet, then trust me. I give ya my word.”

Your fingers gripped the phone a little tighter, if only to still the trembling of your hand, and you gave a large sniff as you processed his words. Your eyes still bore into Dean, as though it would keep him pinned to the spot should he think about making a run for it.

You shifted the phone against your ear an inch, taking your lower lip into a tense bite before you spoke again. “Okay,” you breathed softly. “I trust you, Bobby.”

From Bobby’s end, shuffling noises chafed your ear like sand-paper. “Alright, kid, I’ll leave the two o’ ya to it. Good luck,” he said, and then the line terminated with a beep. The call’s ending tune reached Dean’s ear, where he shifted on the mattress almost anxiously while he waited for your decision.

“So, uh,” he began, his lips stuttering on the right words as his head buckled to face the hands he’d crossed in his lap. His palms rubbed tense lines—like the scheming motion of a fly—before he glanced back up at you. “We good?” He settled on. You saw the subtle desperation in the clench of his jaw. He craved the pardon only you could give him.

Slowly, you lowered the phone from your ear, flipping it closed as your chest rattled with another, shaky breath. Your eyes began to water once more, and this time, it didn’t hold back. In a second, you were hurling yourself across the mattress, arms flailing through the air to wrap around his neck with a desperation that could have body-slammed him to the floor.

“Woah,” he steadied in a laugh that sounded all too relieved.

Your chest crashed into Dean’s, and his hands were hasty to return your hug as he wrapped himself around your waist. There, he completed the embrace, pulling you against him so tightly that it started to pinch the meat of your skin through your shirt. But you didn’t care if his grip left behind a bruise—you’d consider it a physical reminder of just how real this all was.

You pressed your face into the crook of his neck, all the pent up emotions you’d come to harbour over these last few months finally liberated from your clutch. The tears began to roll without practiced regulation, and you found yourself yielding all control. Because being around Dean always had you feeling safe enough to do so, and your body had utilised its muscle-memory to re-establish that foundation. To rebuild the home that his death had wrecked.

“I thought I’d lost you forever,” you whispered against the stubbled skin of his neck, the sound heavy and cracked.

His palm stroked slow, comforting circles across your lower back, his own face buried against the slope of your shoulder. You felt his warm breath waft over your skin as he spoke. “Me too,” he pushed out tensely. Shakily. There were very few moments that you’d ever heard that tone on him. “I didn’t think I was ever comin’ back,” he admitted. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you, or Sammy—hell, even Bobby, again. But I’m not complainin’,” he added hastily. “Shit, I’ll never complain ‘bout anythin’ e’er again. I got everythin’ I need right here.”

He shifted against you, torso pulling back as though he couldn’t wait a second longer to peer into your eyes. You leaned yourself back in rhythm, your cheeks blown red with your overwhelmed state and your eyes still glistening with fresh tears. You kept your hands looped around his neck, fingers still clutching his phone, and your heart was seized by a new fist of pain as you saw Dean’s bloodshot eyes pave way for his own, sparse—but undeniably real—tears.

His hands settled at your hips, fingers subconsciously squeezing at the meat as he did a mental walkthrough of his own emotions. “I missed you so goddamn much,” he whispered, his lower lip trembling now. “God, all I could think ‘bout down there, every second of every miserable day, was you—how much I needed you. How much I missed you.” His chest jolted with a forced, but much needed exhale to steady his next words. “And how much I love you.”

You choked on your breath at that final confession, words that—up until now—had never directly admitted. You couldn’t help but huff a slight breath of disbelief, a weak grin beaming through as your eyes softened with a warmth that made you feel whole again. Dean, himself, looked slightly stunned at his declaration, his eyes widening mildly as he drank in your reaction. But as you gazed at him, there was no undertone of regret or shame mingling with his features. There was only what looked like relief, if the slight quirking of his lips and the soft sigh that followed after was any indication.

Maybe, it was relief attributed to the fact that he’d finally started to unpack—and put words to—some of his more complex emotions. It made you feel so much closer to him.

Without sparing it another thought, you blurted your own reciprocation. “I love you too, Dean.”

He smiled tenderly at that, and neither one of you moved as you shared an intense stare that circulated all sorts of emotion—love, adoration, and desire. Then, as though some unspoken agreement had been exchanged, you dove down to meet his lips in a fierce kiss, the phone you’d been clutching dropping to some surface beyond your current care.

Dean’s hands trailed up the expanse of your back as he returned your kiss hungrily, his lips feuding with yours for an advantage of the play. He wasted no time sliding his hands beneath the hem of your shirt, his warm palms massaging a determined, upward trajectory until he gained enough leverage to tug it over your head.

The kiss broke off momentarily as your arms flew up in an eager gesture to shed your layers, your chest heaving with the exertion. He managed to successfully tug the shirt over your head, the neckline the last to go and leaving behind an impression as it briefly snagged onto your hair. When he gave it one last freeing tug, your hair tie came loose amidst the commotion, your hair cascading across your bare torso in fresh, yet slightly damp strands.

Dean came forward to press two distinct kisses against your lips—hasty, but a bold statement in itself—before he leaned back to roll his shoulders and discard his own clothing. Your hands flew to his chest in aid, fingers sliding beneath the isles of his unbuttoned shirt to push it over the slopes of his shoulders. His hands twisted behind himself to pluck each sleeve from his arms with practiced speed, discarding it some place behind him before he was tugging his snugly-fitting tee over his head.

Instantly, your attention lowered down his toned torso, the glorified sight of him causing your core to pulse with desire. You didn’t get to exploit his image for long before he hogged your view with another, fierce tumble of the lips, his hands grabbing at your waist like he’d needed to remember what you felt like. Your tongues found one another with an ease that felt like its fates were tied, swirling about in a seductive dance to the death. Your hands settled at his neck, gently rubbing and kneading the skin as you allowed yourself to melt into his devouring.

When your palms wandered further down the contoured muscle of his broad shoulders, you felt the skin of his left bicep raise in a questionable pattern. The contact over that area made Dean wince into your mouth, and then he withdrew from the kiss with a feral pant, eyes shifting from an insatiable hunger to a more vulnerable uncertainty. It was enough of a reaction to tear your gaze away from him and steal a glance at the mood-killing discovery. But you almost wished you hadn’t stumbled upon it because the sight of a raised, red handprint seared into the flesh of his forearm made your eyes widen in horror.

“Dean—” you breathed, overcome with the instinctive need to trace your hand over the anomaly, but his shoulder withdrew from your curious touch, which called your attention back to him. “What happened?” You asked softly.

He shook his head lightly, taking a moment to acknowledge the marking with a newfound solemness. His chin dipped down for a second, a broken, incomplete noise dangling from his lips. You knew then, that whatever grim reminder had been imbued into this branding was something too fresh to confront at this time, so you made the silent decision not to probe him about it any further.

You moved to cradle his face, tilting it up to you. His expression looked defeated, his eyes sagging with a heavy fatigue. You didn’t doubt that hell had had its tolls—if anything, you were surprised that he’d come out of it in one piece. Physically, at least. Whatever mental deconstruction he’d undergone during his time there was knowledge beyond your grasp, and a conversation for another time. Hell had already taken enough from the both of you; you wouldn’t let it have this moment, too.

“If you want to stop, just say the word,” you told him gently, offering a hearty smile. “We can just lay here and cud—“

“No,” he answered, the hands at your waist tightening with new resolve. “We’re gonna cuddle, alright, but after we’ve had our overdue fun,” he said, a newfound smirk creeping through his evident exhaustion. “I’ve waited too damn long for this day—hell if I pass it up in a blink.”

You loved it when he took charge this way. Your teeth peered through your lips in an exhilarated grin, and then, you let out a yelp of excitement as he pushed you back onto the mattress, his frame following closely in a controlled hover as he positioned himself on top of you. His lips came crashing down onto yours, the heated dynamic between the two of you returning full-forced, as though it’d never been interrupted in the first place.

Your hands wandered messy lines up and down his neck, occasionally dipping down to glide over the curve of his pecks. The heat in your core began to build with every second you spent tumbled within the skilled warmth of his lips, his hands adding fuel to the fire with the way they staggered along your exposed torso to grace any and every inch of your skin.

He pulled away to drag his moist lower lip up your cheek, pressing a kiss to your temple before he whispered into your ear. “I need to feel you. I need to have all o’ you,” he breathed, and then he pulled away as quickly as he’d arrived, leaning back onto his knees as his fingers found firm grip at your shorts.

He tugged the material down mercilessly, pulling your underwear along with it, and you lifted your legs with a giddy laugh to allow him all the access he needed to yank it free. He tossed it to the other end of the room, his hands flying to undo his belt and jeans while his fixated you with focused eyes—like he was silently entertaining all the things he’d like to do to you.

He shed his boots at the foot of the bed to terminate his undressing, and your eyes immediately lowered to the bowing length of his manhood. It felt cheap—ogling him this way, but something about the sight felt so validating that you couldn’t help but stare. Maybe it was knowing that the mere sight of you was enough to spur him on in this manner, and god, you needed him just as much as he evidently needed you.

Your core throbbed more impatiently now, your built-up arousal taking the first of its leave through the slit of your folds. You were tempted to call out to him, to utter the first, desperate words of beckoning, but Dean seemed to clock your needs almost instantly. He leaned back down to you with a charming smirk, one hand propping himself up at the side of your waist while his other took ahold of his manhood.

“Ready, sunshine?” He murmured—low and rough and slightly dazed with his own suffocating arousal.

Your core seemed to answer before you did, the area beaming hot at the mere sound of his voice. You pushed out a needy hum, and Dean wasted no time in sliding his tip between your folds. He breached through your slicked entrance with ease, his head tilting back an inch and his eyes fluttering closed as he pushed out a gruff moan. He sank himself further into you, his length conforming to your walls in perfect unity. Instinctively, your legs propped to give him better access, and the action drew him in even further.

“Fuck,” he murmured lowly, his head then tilting forward as he gathered himself and fully leaned himself down to you. He placed a kiss onto your lips for good measure, both arms scooping beneath yours in a sure grip. His fists balled at either side of your head, and you wrapped your own arms around his neck.

“I need you, Dean,” you cooed into his ear, and he left slip a breathy sound of acknowledgment before he drilled the first thrust into you.

You both harmonised with noises of pleasure, your nails digging into the nape of his neck as his hips began swaying at a faster pace. He leaned his forehead down against yours, lips parted as he fought to steady the feral breaths of pleasure heaving his chest.

Your eyes stuttered closed as his thrusts deepened and deepened, curving against your walls and gliding to meet your sweet spot at just the right angle. Your head burrowed back into your pillow, your lips gaping with a loud moan. It made Dean lower himself onto your lips, taking them between his in a soft, chiding nibble. You breathed into him erratically, releasing noises that gradually became more and more slurred until you became a hot, panting mess.

His own control seemed to slip from his grasp as he began to grunt and whimper against your cheek, his head eventually falling past yours to graze your ear with just the right verbal performance to add to the contractions of that growing ache within.

His thrusts became firmer—but not brutal. They were passionate and needy all at once, but still laced with a sort of caution that only deep admiration could warrant. He gave a few more firm thirsts, both of you heaving against one another with the approach of your climax. Then, with a final jerk of his hips, the knot that had tethered you to one another came undone in a cascading warmth.

You felt it seep from your entrance, and for a second, Dean didn’t stir from atop you. He remained hovered over you, the point of his nose brushing your cheek methodically as he attempted to replenish his lungs and recover from his own bliss.

“Jesus,” he remarked, an impressed chuckle tickling your ear. “All this time apart, and still it doesn’t feel like I ever slipped your spell.”

You released your own breathless chuckle. “I’m usually opposed to captivity of any sort, but in this case, thank god for that.”

Finally, Dean withdrew from inside of you, collapsing to side of the mattress nearest to the door—his space. Rightfully occupied at last. He reached over to pluck some tissues from the nightstand before turning back to you, fumbling the tissue between his fingers before he began dabbing at the moisture along your forehead.

He gazed at you through loving eyes, so soft and vast that it made your heart throb—like you were falling in love all over again. Dean seemed to notice the lovesick look on your face because he smiled with an expression to match. He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips, and you puckered your own to receive it eagerly. And then he shifted momentarily to clean you down below.

When he came back up to you, he flicked the used tissues off to the side, and then instantly, you were pulled against his chest in a tight embrace. The skin-on-skin contact soothed you, your body relaxing almost instantly within his firm hold—a type of pressure therapy that only worked because it was him. It felt so safe and natural, so you melted further into him, and the hand he’d cupped around the back of your hair began to massage a soothing pattern into your scalp.

Everything about this moment was enough to lull you into a much needed state of relaxation, your body finally unwinding after months of being held together at the threads. Your eyes drifted close, your breathing deepening with the newfound peace.

“You know,” Dean said suddenly, beckoning to your senses. Your eyes remained closed, but you hummed softly to acknowledge him. “Down there, time works differently.” That piqued your interest enough to part you eyes in narrow slits. “You said I’ve been gone for four months? Well, for me, it’s been forty years.”

Your eyes widened fully now, your lips split with some bewildered gasp. “Dean,” you sympathised softly, hand moving from its place at his chest to stroke along his cheek. “I’m so sorry—that sounds awful.”

He shifted to place a kiss on the first part of your palm he could reach. “It ain’t your fault,” he assured you thinly, his eyes bowing under his own exhaustion—as if the mere recollection drained him. “If anythin’, you got me through it. I don’t have to tell you just how shitty things are down in Satan’s basement,” he laughed, but you knew there was no real humour behind it, only pain. “But you. . . just thinkin’ o’ you. . . rememberin’ what I’ve gotta fight for, it kept me sane. Strong.”

You smiled weakly, his words evoking a mixture of warmth and guilt all at once. You appreciated that you’d been able offer him some sort of comfort in your mere memory, but at the same time, you wished he hadn’t needed it to begin with.

Hell was no place for a good man like him.

“Well, you’re back now,” you offered softly, your hands shifting to wrap around his torso in a hug. His own arms wrapped around your upper back, pulling you so tightly against him that you thought your beings might finally form a physical union to mirror the spiritual tying of your souls.

“And I’m here to stay,” he finished in a faint murmur, the words—the promise—hot against the crown of your head.

Those words lingered in your mind as you eventually drifted into a sleep, the steady sound of his breathing the last thing you needed to loosen your grip on reality. Darkness came to claim you, and this time, you welcomed it eagerly.

When you roused into the waking world, your room was fully lit with the tell of noon. The finding was indication enough that you’d stolen the sleep of a lifetime, and there was no lingering heaviness perched on your lids this time around. It filled you with a sense of satisfaction, and you blinked a few times to ground your bleary senses.

When you stirred against the sheets, you heaved a deep breath, your lungs expanding around a newfound sense of inner peace. Instinctively, your arm reached across the mattress to claim the touch of man you loved, but where you expected to feel the warmth of his skin, you felt nothing but the cool, empty space of the comforters.

With a jolt, you sat yourself up, head swivelling about the room with a sense of panic. Dean was nowhere to be found. Your mind instantly began reeling with endless possibilities, your breathing elevating with a growing sense of panic—had you imagined it all? Had he ever been here to begin with? Had you finally snapped and gone insane?

But when you took a moment to lower your head and drink in your frame, you found yourself to be as bare as when you’d fallen asleep. You shifted to the edge of the mattress, feeling some slither of relief that your clothes were where you’d left them—discarded about the room in ruthless bundles. And then, out of instinct, your eyes wandered over to your desk chair, where you expected to greet the leather jacket that had become a pivotal part of your morning routine.

Only, your heart lurched when the chair glared back at you with a bare rim—the jacket nowhere in sight.

Beyond the walls, mingled laughter brightened the atmosphere. The sound made you slip from the mattress almost instantly, where you darted about the room to gather your scattered pyjamas in a hurry before slipping it over your frame. You dashed toward the bedroom door, twisting the handle with anticipation before you practically hurled yourself into the hallway.

When you entered into the open-plan living room, you found that Dean and Sam were weaving rather chaotic ant trails around the kitchen’s floor, each brother tending to steaming dishes that you were too far away to appreciate in detail. But you weren’t paying much attention to it, anyway. You were far too focused on watching Dean, as though you’d had to solidify the mental image of his presence—to believe that he was really here, and here to stay. And the best part of it all is that he was wearing the leather jacket you’d thought would never come to crown another set of shoulders again. It was the last image you needed to place the final puzzle piece in your heart—no, you felt truly fulfilled.

Some part of you had thought—just for a second—that your reunion had been a figment of your imagination. But now, you could breathe a little easier knowing that Dean had truly returned, rooted in flesh as he drifted about the kitchen with an extra skip in his step.

Just then, he spun on his heels to nick something off the counter, his head lifting in your direction as he finally noticed your loitering figure. “Second g’mornin’ to you, sunshine,” he called to you, birthing a cheeky smirk. He flashed a quick glance at Sam before turning back to you. “In case you were wonderin’, Sammy here’s all caught up,” he said. “So let’s skip the big, mushy family reunion and get movin’ on those damn tacos. I’m starvin’”.

“Tacos?” You echoed with a light laugh.

Sam appeared at his big brother’s side, beaming so brightly, it was almost blinding. “We’re having tacos for lunch. Everything’s basically finished,” he piped in, casting a pleading glance in your direction. “Would you mind helping me plate it?”

Your heart settled as you drank the both of them in. This was the life you’d come to miss so dearly, and you couldn’t help but smile appreciatively. You jerked your chin in Dean’s direction. “Why don’t you make him do it?” You teased, padding your way over to the kitchen island.

“Call it a family discount,” Dean chuckled smugly, rounding the counter to draw up at your side. “Or, y’know, the breakin’ free from hell card.”

You shook your head lightly, narrowing your eyes at him. “Isn’t it a little too soon?” You scoffed.

“You let me worry ‘bout my own shit,” he replied, gracing you with a charming wink.

You didn’t offer anything further as you turned your attention down to the prepped toppings spread out across the counter—mince, lettuce, guacamole, chilli sauce, salsa, cheese and the taco shells themselves. You reached for the empty plates and began topping each one with the hollow taco shells, moving to fill the first one with the toppings.

Dean snuck up behind you, his hands finding grip at your waist while his chin came to rest atop your shoulder. His lips grazed your ear. “Thank you for lookin’ after my jacket,” he murmured. “I didn’t think I’d be seein’ this old thing again.”

You smile at his words, hands shifting to stuff the taco with the next pick of toppings. “My reason for keeping it was more selfish than that,” you admitted. “I just couldn’t bear to move it. It would’ve felt too final.”

He hummed a noise of understanding, a soft kiss gracing the side of your neck. “The only thing that’s final is that I’m back,” he said. “You don’t gotta worry ‘bout that anymore, alright?”

“I know,” you murmured, and Dean squeezed you in a light hug, but continued to keep you tucked within his hold as you finished stuffing the taco. You lifted it over your shoulder, carefully guiding it toward his lips.

He released an approving noise before leaning forward to accept your offering in a gluttonous chomp, his lips practically smothering your fingers as though it were deemed part of the meal. You giggled at the feeling, taco fragments scattering across your shoulder as he chewed the food intently.

“How does it taste?” You asked him, turning your head to get a better view of his expression.

His eyes did a roll of appreciation, his cheeks swelled with the large bite. He hummed a string of approval, coupled with a content, repeating nod. Once he gave a hearty swallow, he cleared his throat in satisfaction.

“Tastes like sunshine.”

──────────────────────

a/n ─ can you tell i had the time of my life writing this?? can you tell?? anon i love your mind so so much please never stop your special creativity. i will be tending to my other requests soon, and i encourage you all to keep on sending them through. i appreciate you ALL and your lovely ideas, as well as the support and trust you have in me to flesh out your fantasies 🫶 now, it’s literally almost 4 am as i publish this so nighty night beautiful people!

thank you for reading! all likes, comments & reblogs are deeply appreciated

tags ─ @gibson-g1rl @fallbhind @bohemianblasphemy @figthoughts @deansbbyx @angelicjackles @titsout4jackles @starzify @ultravi0lence14 @floralscented

comment/message me to be added to/removed from the taglist for any future jensen ackles works!

other works ─ supernatural masterlist

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svetamillss · 1 day ago

Text

Headcanons: their reaction to the fact that you want a child🤍

Featuring: Cho Hyun Ju x Reader(f), Kang Dae Ho x Reader(f), Se Mi x Reader(f), Thanos (Su Bong) x Reader(f)

A/N: Orders are always open for you!

🤍🤍🤍

The beginning of each headcanon will be the same.

You were sitting in the living room reading book about motherhood, when your boyfriend/girlfriend came into the room and noticed you.

Cho Hyun Ju

- Baby, what are you reading? Your face is so focused that I feel uncomfortable. - your girlfriend said jokingly, sitting down next to you.

- Yes, nothing important. - you quickly hid the book under the pillow, but Hyun Ju could not be deceived, she immediately realized that something was wrong here.

- So..- and cleverly took out of the pillow the reason for your sadness, when she read the title of the book, she thought for a while, and then looked straight into your eyes.

- You..do you want to be a mother? - not knowing how to answer correctly, you just nodded silently, you knew that your dream was not destined to come true.

- But why didn't you tell me before?

- And what's the point... if nothing works out anyway. - It even seemed to you that your words offended the girl.

- Why did you decide that it wouldn't work, baby? I also want a child very much. And if the reason is that I will soon make a complete transition to a girl..then it's stupid. We can adopt a child or..or find a good sperm donor for us, and in general! I didn't do all the operations, we can try, my love. You don't have to be silent about that.. - she spoke with such tenderness in her voice that you almost cried.

- I'm sorry, I just thought you were against the children. - for these words you got a light smack, after which the girl took you by the hand and dragged you to the bedroom.

- What are you doing?!

- Let's go try to make your dream come true, after all, I've been ready for children for a long time.

Kang Dae Ho

You've wanted to talk to your boyfriend about this topic for a long time, but you've been waiting for the right moment and now it has come. He just got back from work and went into the living room, where he saw you very serious, he immediately tensed up.

- Honey, did I do something wrong? - he asked cautiously, to which you only pointed your finger at the place next to you, he silently fulfilled your request.

- I've wanted to talk to you for a long time. In general, we have been together for a long time and are planning our wedding.. I want a child. - after which you handed him the very book that he began to look at uncertainly, he looked at you, then at it.

- Oh, honey, are you sure about that? A child is a huge responsibility.

- Yes, I'm completely confident in my decision.

- Yes, I see that you are very serious. - he smiled softly, patted you on the head. - I also want a child, especially a daughter who will look like you. But since I want our child to be healthy, we have to go through some doctors, take tests and so on, and then..we can start..well, you get it..- he said slightly teasing you.

Still, you are very happy that you have such a good future husband, I am sure he will be a good father for your future children.

Se Mi

- Honey, I'm at home. - said your girlfriend, returning from the store, but she was met by silence in response, you were too immersed in reading.

She went to the living room, where she saw you reading a book, the girl had good eyesight, so she immediately saw what the book was about and was surprised.

- Do you read book about motherhood? - you almost jumped in fright when you noticed Se Mi, you wanted to hide the book, but realized that there was no point.

- Yes, I read.

- You don't just read them out of curiosity. Do you want to be a mother? - she sat down next to you, taking your hands in hers.

- Yes, there is such a desire.

- Oh, sweetie, you understand that in our situation it will be difficult, and in general.. I would like to live for myself first, just you and me. And after..in five years, can we come back to this topic again? Okay? Just don't think that I'm judging you or against you!

- I understand everything, really. And I think you're right, we need to get back on our feet first. - she smiled softly at you and kissed you on the lips.

Thanos (Su Bong)

Thanos suddenly flew into the living room that you were even a little scared, and he laughed a little at you.

- Don't be scared, lord. In short, listen! Soon Nam Gyu will come, I warn you right away so that there would be no misunderstandings later. - you listened to him carefully, of course you are not very happy with the situation, because these two make a lot of noise, which is just horrible.

- What are you reading by the way? - he came closer to you and took the book from his hands, saw the title, was horrified and gave it back to you. - You throw this dope out of your head. I'm not ready for children at all, what to take from them? They just scream, ask for food and shit! No, no, no, I don't want to. If you want, I'll buy you any animal, but not a child in the house. - you already wanted to say something, when he interrupted you again. - so, I went to cook snacks, Nam Gyu will come soon. By the way, join us, it will be fun. - he sent you an air kiss and ran to the kitchen, leaving you to digest everything he said.

All you realized is that with a person like him there will never be a child. After all, he himself is like a child who needs constant control, and since he also has a friend who is a fool like him... you have just two children who are in the body of adult guys.

🤍🤍🤍

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dyingswanpavlova · 20 hours ago

Text

"Your girl" - Part 3 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: He tries to be nice for once to win you over, but is he being genuine? Or will it backfire? All the while your mind is playing confusing tricks on you.

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of rape, violence, mentions of murder, body issues, trauma talk, hinting at stockholm syndrome, manipulation, mentions of erection/arousal/masturbation, mentions of abuse earlier in life, not beta read, 18+!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4

"I do not intend to rape you, if that is what you think."

It was weird. The words were supposed to comfort you, right? Make you breathe easier. Instead you felt your chest tighten. Again.

Because he brought it up out of nowhere? Who could tell?

You sat on the couch, your arms wrapped around your legs like they usually were ever since you started participating in his mind games. It wasn't really like you had any other choice.

Your body, once young and healthy, albeit loaded with trauma to the brim, felt bruised and battered. It was a fight you were forced to fight every day and it felt like war. War against him, against yourself and life itself. Your face hurt horribly and it was all his fault. Or was it your own? God, you were confused.

"Don't get me wrong. I do intend to fuck you." His eyes crinkled in a smile. "Oh, I intend to fuck you again and again and again, until you feel like you're being ripped apart and you'll be begging me to stop."

There was it again, the cold sweat. Almost like an old friend you could count on.

Why didn't you have any real friends? You suddenly asked yourself. If only you had invested one of your Sundays into getting to meet at least one person. Maybe then someone would miss you now.

There was still your work. But you couldn't really tell if they'd get suspicious after you stopped coming or if maybe they simply accepted it. Your boss knew you had some issues. How you hated confrontration. He probably assumed you simply were gone for good.

Poor girl. Well, whatever, time is money. At least I get to keep her last paycheck.

But somehow you were sure that no one really missed you. No one waited for you at home. And no one cared that you still spent your days in the captivity of a psychopath. Or was it a sociopath? What was the damn difference again?

"Why don't you do it then?" You heard yourself ask.

One might think you would have learned your lesson not to talk back the day when he threw everything edible away and turned off the water supply. Or after he just beat the crap out of you.

But no, here you were, being smart with him. At least right now he didn't seem to mind. His fucked up smile was still in place.

"Because, my sweet, darling girl", he said slowly and crouched down before you, "because I want to fuck you when you're mine. I don't want scraps and pitiful silence. I'm not like the filth I threw on the train lines."

A violent shiver ran down your spine. It was the first time he mentioned the incident. For a few days you had almost asked yourself if that had really happened. And you had also asked yourself if your life so far had been a hallucination. Maybe you had always been his prisoner and maybe you had made up the role of your mother to keep yourself entertained and somehow deal with everything. They did have a lot in common.

"I want it willingly."

Odd. He didn't seem like the gentle type. Or the type who cared about consent.

"Don't mistake my words. I'm going to fuck you, no matter how you feel."

Ah.

"I don't give a shit if you feel sore, you have a headache, you've been crying or you're bleeding. I don't care if it is me who made you bleed." He leaned in so close that his warm, minty breath tickled your ear. "All the better."

For a moment, you were sure he was gonna bite your earlobe. A sound rumbled in his throat, almost like a groan and his lips were so close to your skin, you felt the wet warmth of that groan. But eventually, he pulled his head back and instead stared at you intensely.

"God, I want you."

The last two days had been weirder than usual. Instead of playing tricks on your mind and hitting you till blood trickled down your lip, he had been...considerate? It was hard to tell if that was the right word for it.

Many things were hard to tell nowadays.

It started with the dresses. He once came home - home, God help you - carrying countless bags which contained pretty and expensive dresses. All in your size and all to your liking.

Your style so far had been modest and humble, convenient mostly.

You knew that you could be pretty when you tried and wanted. Yet on most days you simply didn't care enough.

But when he came back with the dresses and left them in your room - and after you had spent enough hours sulking in the corner and being devastated about your loss of dignity when he forced you to drink water from a fucking bowl on the ground - Be a good girl and drink. I'd be really annoyed if you died of thirst. Yes, just like that. My good girl. - your curiosity finally got the better of you and you glanced into one of the bags.

Everything from silk to cashmere, with no ridiculous colors in sight. Everything was black, white, beige, cream, light rose or babyblue.

Then the lotus silk one in dark green.

It made you feel like a princess.

It felt like tiny kisses on your skin.

You couldn't help but try each and every one of them on.

And God, they felt good on you.

And eventually, you were forced to wear them. All you had was that one night dress. You had tried washing it in the sink and drying it on the radiator. But additionally to all the other bullshit he put you through, it was just too much. And so you put it on. The green one first.

The look on his face when you timidly left your room and tiptoed over to the living room had made you feel...

It made you feel...

You wanted to slap yourself until you came back to your senses, but no. It was enough when he did.

Desired. It made you feel desired.

It made you feel beautiful in a way you hadn't ever experienced before.

Sure, despite your questionable upbringing and your mother who constantly made sure you felt just below miserable, there had been men ogling you. Like the one who attacked you.

They'd stop what they were doing and glance you up and down, making sure you felt like a well-seasoned piece of meat.

Edible.

Fuckable.

But none of it was any comparison to him. The look in his eyes had been nothing short or fascination. The way his eyes gleamed and his lips parted in that soft exhale. His eyes didn't just linger on your breasts or ass. His sized you up entirely, like you were a porcelain doll to be cherished.

Of course you expected to hate the feeling.

But to your undying horror, you didn't.

You tried to think back to the many hits you'd taken from him, the humiliation and the countless tears.

And still, when he looked at you like that, you felt your cheeks grow warm and your insides tingle.

"Try them on for me." He had breathed.

You opened your mouth to protest, because that was what you usually did by now, you protested, but one look at him and it shut you up. Not because he was angry or because he had threatened you.

Because of that damn look.

You found yourself walking back to your room, your hands shaking and your heart racing. What were you doing here? Was this your life? Was this your punishment? Was he someone your mother had hired to punish you for escaping her?

You pushed all those thoughts aside and changed into the next dress. It was almost regal looking, a long white dress that hugged your body like a gentle embrace.

None of the dresses were cheap looking. They weren't even all too revealing. A little more than what you usually wore, yes, but all in all they were still kind of modest. But they highlighted your beauty in a way that made you feel exactly that.

Beautiful.

You took a shaky breath and made your way back to the living room. He had settled down on the couch, a glass of whiskey in his hand which he swirled around, lost in thought. The moment he heard you, he looked up from his glass and his eyes lit up in the same delight they had before, even more so.

He did something more now. He bit his lip.

He twirled his finger around, silently beckoning you to turn around, which you did. You turned around, almost timidly, feeling somewhat small under his assessing gaze. You still felt beautiful, but a part of you expected...

What?

That he laughed?

That he scoffed and recoiled in disgust?

Yes. Yes, that was exactly what a part of you felt he might do. Instead, he set his glass down and stood up, approaching you slowly and carefully, as though not to startle you.

You held your breath. He would hit you. You had done something wrong. You were wrong. You looked wrong. You didn't look the way he wanted you to.

He'd get rid of you.

By the time he reached you, you nearly suffocated. Your chest heaved rapidly under his scrutinizing gaze. When he lifted his hand and moved to touch your cheek, your eyes fluttered shut and you gasped.

But instead of hitting you, he...caressed you.

His touch was so gentle, more gentle than ever before. Like he was holding a delicate bird.

"Stand up straight." He breathed in your ear.

You swallowed thickly. And slowly obeyed. You fixed your posture slowly, pulling your shoulders back.

"Like that?" You whispered.

He nodded.

"Now your chin." He whispered back and gently placed a finger under your chin to lift it.

You let him guide you, feeling like his fingers left a trail of fire on their wake when he carefully ran them down the side of your neck.

"God, you're exquisite."

When you finally looked up at him, your eyes were wide and your breathing still far too quick. But his expression was calm. So calm. Almost gentle.

If he wasn't such a psychopath, he'd be really handsome, you realized. His eyes shone in a warm brown and his smile, albeit twisted, was beautiful. He was beautiful. Like a man made of marble who didn't mind getting messy.

When you realized what the hell you were thinking, you recoiled as if you’d been burned. His expression didn't waver, but he slowly pulled his hand back.

"Show me the next one." He murmured and sat back down.

You quickly made your way back and slumped down, your back pressed against the door.

What on earth was that? Were you now entirely out of your mind?

You didn't have many rules, but one of them went above all others.

Avoid him. Avoid him at all costs.

No unnecessary contact, because then you'd have less opportunities to make him angry. And maybe, just maybe, then you'd get out of the alive. You still had hope.

After a long moment of gathering your thoughts, you changed into the next dress. A soft beige cashmere dress, which hugged your curves sinfully.

You took a deep breath and made your way back. His gaze was fixed on the door and he looked at you with a subtle smirk.

"Look at that." He murmured.

You didn't know what he was referring to while you walked in there, a slight frown on your face.

"What?"

"Nothing. Turn around."

You turned around. It was easier this time. And it got easier with every dress. You changed, came in an twirled around. Changed, came in and twirled around. And at some point, his eyes started feeling almost natural on you. Like you were meant to wear those dresses for him on that particular day. It wasn't until the last dress, a beautiful, yet simple black dress, that you realized. Your stance had somewhat changed.

You stared at yourself in the mirror with a deep frown.

Was that you?

Who were you?

And how did you pull it off to show off these dresses looking almost...confident?

You made your way back, looking at him with an unreadable expression.

His face lit up at the sight and he took a sip of his drink.

"My favorite by far. That and the green one."

You stared at him speechlessly. What on earth were you supposed to do with that information?

He approached you slowly, with that predatory air on him as he slowly circled you, looking you up and down.

"Do you like the dresses?" He asked slowly.

"Yes." You whispered.

"Good." He smirked. "Then thank me."

You slowly, almost carefully, looked up at him. Did he expect...you to...

"Thank me." He whispered.

"Thank you for the dresses." You whispered back.

And just like that, he smiled in satisfaction.

"You're very welcome. They all look wonderful on you."

He sat back down and beckoned you to sit beside him, which you reluctantly did. You tried to keep your knees from bouncing up and down nervously and folded your hands in your lap.

"Who are you?"

You simply stared at him. Because you knew, every time you answered the question, even if you said the right words...Something bad happened. So, this time you stayed silent.

He took a slow breath and leaned closer.

"Who are you?"

"Please." You whispered. "Please, don't."

His expression immediately darkened and he took a tight hold of your chin.

"Answer the goddamn question."

"Your girl." You said quietly, but you were unable to meet his eyes as you did. "I'm your girl."

He hummed softly.

"Why?"

You blinked. "Why?"

He nodded. "Yes. Why?"

Suddenly your throat felt dry. You liked to think that you were actually pretty clever. But whenever you spoke to him, you felt like a complete idiot.

"Because I...I just am."

He raised a brow. "You just are?"

"I don't know what you want to hear."

His grip on your face loosened slightly and he shook his head.

"Do you despise me?" He suddenly asked. There was no emotion in his tone, just pure calculation.

You blinked again. You were almost sure you were going to die tonight. Too bad. The pretty dress would end up soaked in blood.

"I..."

"Because just a few minutes ago, you looked at me like you want me."

Suddenly you felt your face heat up in embarrassment. Actually, you had hoped he hadn't caught on that moment of weakness.

"That's not true." Somehow you managed to force a certain firmness in your voice.

He just smiled. "It's alright, sweet girl. You can deny it all you want, but we both know the truth. I know you’re ashamed. That’s fine. But a part of you likes me."

"But it isn't true!"

He tsked. "Listen, why don't you calm down and then we'll-"

"I could never like you!" You called out before you could think about. "I could never want a twisted person like you. You know what? There's a reason why no one ever loved you and why no one ever will. You're simply evil and there's nothing good or loveable about you. Nothing at all."

It felt like one of those horrible moment in apocalypse movies, just a moment before a protagonist is going to die. You knew you had fucked up. You just couldn't tell how bad yet.

By the time you managed to carefully lift your gaze to meet his, you got struck by unease. You could practically follow the shift in his eyes. From teasing and playful to something darker, something dead. He didn't even need to drop the smile. His eyes spoke loud enough.

"I'm sorry." You whispered breathlessly.

You couldn't even tell why you had said that, why the statement that you found something likeable about him had triggered you so badly. You weren't normally this reckless. This suicidal.

"I'm sorry." You whispered again, when he didn't move. "I don't know what came over me. Please. Forgive me. Please, I..."

The coldness in his eyes made you shut up. The man who called you exquisite and asked you to twirl around like a ballerina was gone. And you immediately knew he wasn't going to forgive you.

But what was even worse was that for some reason you felt so terrible for what you had said. Usually, you were pretty kind to everyone and didn't just go around saying hurtful things. If your words reached and hurt him didn't matter. What mattered was that you said them.

Immediately tears stung your eyes and you forced your gaze away from his. God, he would kill you.

And this time you were certain.

So, you weren't truly surprised when he roughly forced your back onto the sofa and straddled you. But you were still scared shitless. Your breath hitched and suddenly, just like that, you couldn't breathe again and you were mute. Betrayed again.

He pinned your wrists above your head and pushed you down with a rough movement, grinding down his hips against yours and forcing your legs apart.

First he would take what he wanted and then he would kill you.

Despite you being mute and frozen, you were still crying. Your body was being shaken by sobs and it only ever seemed to make him angrier.

"It appears to me", he growled furiously, "that you forgot your place."

You quickly shook your head, desperate to make him understand just how much you regretted what you had said, but before you could even try to open your mouth, a firm slap made you cry out in pain.

"No, please-"

There was your voice. And there went another slap. The intensity of it made you cry out as your head lolled to the side.

"Where is your place?" He growled. But before you could respond, he hit you again, all the while you felt his hardness pressed against you, ready to ruin you.

He had never done that before.

Sure, he had hit you when you got something wrong in a game, but he had never straight up beaten you for speaking.

Or what was even worse, he hadn't forced himself on you.

You had sensed the hardness between his legs once before, after he had made you drink the water from a bowl on the floor. But he hadn't mentioned it, hadn't made you look there, let alone touch it. He had skillfully ignored it and probably taken care of it himself afterwards.

He hadn't tried to kiss you.

Hadn't tried to reach between your legs.

Hadn't let you feel him.

But now you felt it, hard and urgent, straining against his pants and then your dress.

You had never felt a man like this before.

What a weird thought to have in this kind of situation.

"Please." You finally managed to sob out. "Please, I swear to you, I'll never do it again. I'll make up for it, please let me make up for it."

By the time his hand shot out for the sixth slap, you felt yourself go dizzy. Your face burned like fire under his palm and everything around you slowly went blurry. Your sight as well as the way you tried to hold your eyes open. They slowly blinked shut.

"I'm sorry." You whispered exhaustedly.

"Don't you dare pass out on me right now." He hissed and tightly grasped your chin.

When, instead of answering, you murmured something inaudible, he sighed deeply.

"Fuck." He murmured. His touch on your face grew softer. Then he slowly tilted your chin up, examining your face.

"I marked your pretty face." He said in a bland tone. You didn't say anything back.

"But I had to remind you that you don't just get to say and do anything you want." He gritted out. He was obviously still furious.

You didn't understand why he sounded like he was trying to justify his actions or why he even cared if you passed out. You had actually expected him to go off on that.

As if on cue, he reached down and carefully adjusted his pants, letting out a soft sigh at the touch.

You felt him press against you for a moment longer. He was obviously fighting with himself. Despite everything, the friction caused a nervous twitch in your lower body. He seemed to notice it and checked your expression. Eventually he forced himself away from you. He got up and ran his hands through his hair.

"Take a nap and calm down. I'll be back in a while."

With quick steps he disappeared to his bedroom. For a short, reckless moment you caught yourself thinking; he'll be occupied fucking his hand for at least five minutes. If you go and find the keys he always carries around when he leaves...

But your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of him. It was barely audible. You were sure you weren't even supposed to hear it. But you did. A moan. He moaned.

You closed your eyes. Oh God.

He had managed it. He had messed up your brain even more than it already was. Instead of crying, because your face hurt like hell, you felt a certain warmth spread through you.

Honey, you cannot seriously-

Shut up, mother.

You heard him again and now you were sure. You felt yourself grow wet. Immediately, your face flared up in even more heat and your breath caught in your throat.

What on earth was wrong with you?

He had nearly killed you, nearly taken you, nearly-

"Ah, oh, fuck." He groaned.

Your brows furrowed and you took a shaky breath. You could almost see it in your mind. The way his hand slowly slid down his chest. It made your heart skip a beat.

Enough!

You jumped up and scurried back to the bathroom. You locked the door and paused before the mirror. The sight made you wince. He had indeed marked you up. His hand, angrily imprinted into your cheek. You gingerly reached out to touch it, but stopped short of your skin.

He had done this to you. Just as he had done so many other things to you.

You were trapped in these godforsaken halls.

All you had wanted to do was go home after a long day of work, read a book in silence and eat a warm meal. Instead you got trapped into this hell, where he slowly manipulated his way under the trauma that had been cursing through your body and mind for years.

He destroyed all the walls you had built up, all the aid you had taken to repair the little sanity that was left in you.

The little confidence. The little love. The little you.

Now it was all gone.

You felt a tear run down your cheek and you immediately wiped it away. The touch made you wince in pain, it was rather harsh. You couldn't help it. You were angry.

You were so, so angry.

Why was it that no one could ever be good to you?

Why did you always attract the attention of twisted people?

You didn't deserve that. You didn't want it. And God, you didn't ask for it.

You had been a sweet child. Innocent and curious as every child is. Until your mother, who knew nothing but hate by day and pain at night, turned you into a shell of a person. And when you finally, finally made it out of her chokehold and you thought you could now live your life in peace, happily ignoring everything wrong in your life, he came.

He came and destroyed your fragile peace.

With shaky hands you leaned down and splashed your face with cold water. You carefully dried it up and stood like that for a while, holding onto the sink tightly.

And you made a silent promise to yourself.

You would get out of here and get your peace back.

The night was quiet. He didn't try to approach you, punish you, torture you in any way. He simply let you sleep.

The second your face touched the pillow, you passed out.

The morning went on just as quiet. You took a quick bath, before you put on one of the horrible dresses. You didn't care which one, you just wanted this to get over with.

The rest of your life.

After you spent two hours pacing the room, you decided you needed to speak to him. Ask him nicely maybe. Or steal his gun and murder him. You didn't care anymore. You needed to get out.

With quick, determined steps you stormed out to the kitchen and were surprised to find it empty. The other rooms were empty as well. You even gathered all your courage and knocked on his bedroom door. When no answer came, you sighed and went back to the kitchen.

Maybe he had abandoned you. He had thrown away all the food and he would come back in a few days after you died of starvation. Yes, that sounded reasonable.

But to your great surprise, that wasn't the case. Instead, on the kitchen table stood a gracious amount of food. Everything from rice and beans, to spinach and even…lemon cake.

You frowned as you thought back to the second day with him.

"What does always manage to cheer you up?"

"Mostly books." You had whispered, after he had just finished nearly choking you to oblivion, because you had answered another question to his displeasure. "But when things are remarkably bad, then lemon cake."

You stared at the cake as if it was poisonous. Which it probably was. You took a step closer and then you saw the note.

Sorry.

That was it. Just sorry. Sorry?

Your eyes widened as you stared down at it.

What was this?

Did he actually apologize?

You didn't care that it was written on a post-it. The word on the post-it was Sorry.

You had to sit down, because you felt like your knees were about to give in.

After a long moment of simply staring down at it, you reached out and took a bite of the lemon cake.

It was fruity and sweet and everything good in the world.

You took another bite and choked back your sobs.

After he came home, he didn't say anything for a long while and so didn't you. Just a quick glance of acknowledgement.

He didn't comment on how you sat there, reading. Of course you expected him to beat you down with the book. But he didn't. Instead he averted his gaze and disappeared into his room.

And he didn't say anything for the rest of the day either, until suddenly he declared that he didn't intend to rape you and so the conversation dragged on.

You felt especially snarky today, after yesterday he got so angry and took it out on you. After he awkwardly vanished and you heard him. After you remembered that you didn't deserve to be treated like shit, right after you had felt incredibly aroused, because you heard him touch himself.

"God, I want you." He breathed in your ear. And then you did the unthinkable. You pushed him back. The movement was gentle. But you pushed him back.

He growled deep in his throat and seconds later the vase from the coffee table crushed against the wall in a loud scatter. At least it wasn’t you who flew into the wall.

You would have winced from the sound. But it was so sudden and somehow almost funny. But you knew better than to smirk.

"Who are you?" He hissed.

You stayed silent.

He took a long, slow breath. Then he reached out and touched your cheek, his fingers digging into your bruised skin, making you flinch. He raised his hand like he was going to slap you again. You wanted to cower in fear, but you forced yourself to keep looking at him, your eyes wide.

He kept staring down at you and slowly lowered his hand back down.

"You're still beautiful." He said quietly.

You didn't expect him to say that or the way his fingers gently trailed down your cheek. You inhaled sharply and slowly closed your eyes. It was like trusting a bear to guard your life, when it was covered in honey.

"Are you going to hit me again?" You whispered.

After a beat, he quietly said: "No."

His mood swings were terrifying, but you knew there were far scarier things about him.

Like the way his eyes darkened whenever he got really angry. Which was often the case.

Or the way he hummed whenever you did something wrong.

Or the way he made you weak and scary enough, not entirely in a bad way. You were certain he had manipulated you into thinking this. Into, somehow, caring. This was the worst that could happen to you. The absolute worst.

He sighed. "Sweet girl, are you..."

You needed to get the hell out of here. And quickly. So, maybe, maybe, if you just played along…

Maybe then you would get out alive. All you had to do was play along. All you had to be was…

“I’m your girl.”

246 notes · View notes

hyuckiefluff · 1 day ago

Text

nasty habits | park jisung

pairing: pervy!jisung x camgirl! reader

genre: smut, a little bit of fluff at the end

summary: what happens when you find out that your top spender as a cam girl isn’t some rich old guy, but an awkward boy from your campus?

wc: 20k+

warnings: cam girl activities, usage of sex toys, cursing, loss of virginity, sub!jisung, masturbation (like a lot of it), oral sex (fem.receiving), jisung is his usual introverted self (and only loud during sex), a lot of sexualization and just overall horniness lol. lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: heeey loves! i was absolutely floored with the amount of love that my latest fic got, so here i am with another one for you. this is my first jisung fic so im excited but also nervous bc jisung is one of my biases. idk why it took me so long to write him. but anyways i hope you all enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it. ps; y/n is terrible at recognizing people or remembering names and i’m only putting that here bc it comes out a few times in the fic lol (she’s just like me fr), ALSO, this is loosely inspired by BJ Alex. oh and one last thing, the idea for this fic or at least the characters’ dynamic was inspired by this tweet.

your college days have been, for the most part, unremarkable in the best way. you pulled decent grades, had a solid group of friends, and were generally well-liked.

but despite being somewhat popular, you managed to keep a lot about yourself private.

and by that, you mean the secret life that only a handful of your closest friends knew about.

after all, being a cam girl wasn’t exactly your average college hobby.

it started on a whim, born from equal parts boredom and curiosity. at first, you had no idea what you were doing. your streams were awkward, your lighting was bad, and your concept was nonexistent. but after a few months, you found your niche and suddenly, you were kind of a big deal on the platform.

granted, the website you streamed on was pretty obscure, the kind of place you could name in public, and nobody would so much as glance your way. still, you made decent money. enough to pay for your first two years of college, entirely out of pocket.

you never flaunted it, and most of your friends didn’t care to pry. they only ever joked about it, like they were doing now after you casually mentioned how much you’d earned last month.

“girl, what the hell. maybe i should start camming too,” giselle said, eyes wide as she stared at the number on your screen.

“you say that like it’s a joke, but i’m dead serious,” karina chimed in, striking a dramatic pose in front of the mirror. “i checked my bank account yesterday and almost cried.”

“i mean, i’m not saying you should, but if you need pointers…” you teased, shooting them a wink

“for real though, you’ve gotten so much confidence from this,” giselle pointed out, leaning back against the bed frame.

“oh yeah, nothing boosts your self-esteem like a 60 year old man telling you your ‘princess bits’ are so pretty he busted one in his pants,” you deadpanned, propping your chin on your hand.

“okay, they can’t all be old men,” karina snorted “like can you see their profiles or anything?” she asked, abandoning the mirror and flopping onto the bed beside you.

“not really. just their usernames and how much they’ve spent on my channel.”

“wait, check your top supporter!” giselle said, bouncing a little in excitement.

you scrolled through the dashboard until his username popped up. the moment your friends saw how much he’d spent on you this year, they both let out a loud gasp.

“what in the sugar daddy is this?” karina said, laughing in disbelief. “eighteen thousand dollars? that’s literally my entire tuition!”

“i don’t get the full amount, though. the site takes a cut, then there’s taxes and all that,” you clarified, shrugging.

“still! that’s insane,” giselle said, shaking her head. “honestly, i don’t feel bad about you paying for our sushi nights anymore.”

you laughed, leaning back into your pillows.

“but aren’t you even a little curious about who this…” karina squinted at the screen, “andyp4rk02 is? i need to know everything about this man.”

“i mean, of course i’m curious. but there’s no way to find out,” you said, twirling a strand of hair absentmindedly.

“unless…” giselle said, dragging the word out with a sly grin.

you raised a brow. “unless what?”

“haechan.”

you frowned. “what about him?”

“he could probably hack into this thing,” she said with a casual wave of her hand, as if that wasn’t a completely ridiculous suggestion.

“giselle, he’s a computer science major, not a dark web hacker,” karina said, rolling her eyes.

“okay, but remember when i got locked out of my netflix? he did some tech magic on his computer and got my account back.”

“yeah, because recovering a netflix account is exactly the same as hacking into a cam site,” you said dryly.

“i’m just saying, have you seen his setup? it’s literally something out of a spy movie,” giselle insisted.

karina shrugged. “it wouldn’t hurt to ask him…”

you hesitated, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “i don’t know, guys…”

“oh, come on,” karina said, nudging your shoulder. “don’t you want to know who this guy is?”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

they somehow managed to convince you, which was how you found yourself shivering outside haechan’s dorm, rubbing your arms to keep warm. the air was biting, and as always, haechan wasn’t picking up his phone.

“when he opens this door, i’m kicking him straight in the balls,” you muttered, bouncing on your toes to stave off the cold. giselle was furiously rubbing her hands up and down your arms and karina’s, trying to share what little warmth she had.

“we should’ve called earlier,” karina said through chattering teeth, her lower lip trembling. “he might not even be in.”

giselle huffed dramatically. “okay, this is ridiculous.” she stepped back and cupped her hands around her mouth. “lee haechan, come out right now!” her voice echoed down the street, startling a group of students walking by.

“haechan! get your ass down here!” you joined in, your voice cracking slightly in the cold.

karina gave a small, pitiful laugh. “he lives on the second floor… there’s no way he heard that.”

before she could finish, the door creaked open, revealing one of his roommates. you recognized him immediately but, as usual, couldn’t recall his name. he was younger than you by a year and usually kept to himself whenever you visited.

“uh… hey?” he said, blinking at the sight of the three of you standing there like frostbitten strays. he leaned awkwardly against the doorframe, clearly wondering why three girls were yelling outside their dorm at 9 p.m. on a tuesday.

giselle, ever the charmer, broke into a dazzling smile. “hi! thank you! we’re here for haechan.”

“okay,” he said quietly, still eyeing you all with suspicion. “he’s probably in his room playing league or something.” he stepped aside slowly, letting you in.

“thank you,” you muttered as you walked past, catching the way his gaze immediately dropped to the floor when you made eye contact.

once inside, you didn’t waste any time. storming up to haechan’s door, you knocked violently before pushing it open without waiting for an answer.

“what the hell—” haechan swiveled in his gaming chair, his startled expression melting into a sly grin as soon as he saw you. “hii, girls. to what do i owe the pleasure?” his tone shifted into his mock customer service voice as he leaned back, giving you his most charming smile.

giselle jabbed a finger into his shoulder, making him wince. “were you jerking off, or is your phone shoved up your ass? why didn’t you answer our calls?”

“sorry, i was mid-round, and my phone was on silent,” he said, rubbing his shoulder and smiling sheepishly.

karina folded her arms and sat on the edge of his bed, only to spring back up with a grimace. “ugh, have you even left your room this week?” she asked, glaring at the mountain of empty takeout containers and water bottles scattered across the floor.

“it’s winter break,” haechan said, turning back to his computer and clicking out of the game. “of course i haven’t.”

giselle gestured dramatically at the mess. “you’re one step away from being in a hoarders episode, dude.”

haechan ignored her, spinning in his chair to face you again. “so, what brings such beautiful company to my humble abode?” his eyes lingered on you pointedly.

“he only looked at y/n while saying that. wow.” giselle placed a hand on her chest in mock offense.

“she’s not gonna suck your dick, haechan,” karina said flatly, shaking her head.

“i didn’t even say anything!” he protested, deflating slightly in his chair, his pout almost comical.

“anyway,” you interrupted, rolling your eyes. “i need a favor.”

haechan perked up immediately. “anything for you,” he said with a wink, which earned an exaggerated gagging noise from karina.

you crossed your arms, leaning against the desk. “okay, first: how’s your hacking game these days?”

“eh… like a seven. why?”

“do you think you could, uh, hack into angel corner?”

his eyebrows shot up. “oh, oh.” he swiveled back to his computer, clearly intrigued. “i mean, i’m not super familiar with their system—it depends on their encryption layers and backend coding. but…” he trailed off, tapping his fingers thoughtfully against the desk. “it shouldn’t be too hard. why do you want me to hack them, though?”

you fiddled with the hem of your sweater, trying to look as innocent as possible. “just… curious about one of my subscribers.”

giselle chimed in unhelpfully. “her top subscriber.”

haechan spun his chair back around, narrowing his eyes. “and what exactly do you want to know?”

you hesitated, glancing at karina and giselle. the truth was, you hadn’t really thought this through.

“everything,” karina said firmly, her eyes glinting with a kind of mischievous excitement.

haechan smirked, leaning back in his chair. “okay, but what’s in it for me?”

giselle thought for a second and then grinned, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “y/n will sit on your lap while you do your nerdy shit.”

haechan shot out of his chair, clapping his hands. “deal!”

“huh?! i did not agree to this.” you immediately protested.

“c’mooon,” giselle said with a pout. “don’t you want to know?”

haechan patted his lap smugly. “don’t worry, baby. i don’t bite.”

groaning, you finally gave in, muttering curses under your breath as you sat on his lap. he sighed contentedly, spinning back toward his computer. with a few quick clicks, he opened a screen that looked straight out of a movie just as giselle said before. lines of code and strange tabs you didn’t recognize.

“how do you even know how to do this?” you asked, leaning slightly to the side to avoid touching his chest.

“self-taught,” he replied with a shrug.

“great,” you muttered. “i’m trusting a bootleg hacker to invade my subscriber’s privacy. that’s just fantastic.”

“hey, relax,” haechan said, grinning. “you’re in good hands.”

“can we get this over with so i can get off you?” you groaned, shifting uncomfortably on haechan’s lap.

“why? i’m cozy,” he said with a cheeky grin, snuggling into your back. you retaliated with a flick to his forehead.

“ow!” he yelped, immediately rubbing the spot. “i’m so nice to you and all you do is hurt me.”

“you’ll cope. now, what’s this?” you asked, pointing at the maze of numbers and codes flickering across the screen.

“this,” he said, his brows knitting in concentration, “is me trying to break through their firewall… which is a lot more complicated than i thought.”

“well, obviously,” karina chimed in from behind you, inspecting her nails, only half invested in the conversation. “that site probably has CEOs and politicians on it. maybe one of them is your top subscriber, because who else has eighteen thousand dollars to blow on a cam girl?”

“what?!” haechan yelled, whipping around so fast you nearly fell off his lap. “eighteen thousand?!”

“that was my ear,” you muttered, steadying yourself.

he cleared his throat dramatically, but his ears flushed pink. “right, sorry. anyway—oh, wait, i’m in!”

“wait, really?!” you leaned forward in excitement, your hands clutching the edge of his desk. “oh my god, that’s so cool, i could kiss you right now!”

“please do,” haechan replied, staring at you with wide, hopeful eyes.

“be a man,” karina said, smacking him on the back of his head as she moved closer.

“okay, so… bad news or good news first?” haechan asked, his smug grin returning as he reclined slightly in his chair.

“just rip the band-aid off,” you said, crossing your arms. “what’s the bad news?”

“your top spender is smart. like, annoyingly smart. the only personal info he filled out was his gender, and for his name he used a zelda character.”

“what a virgin,” he added with a laugh.

“look who’s talking,” giselle shot back.

“hey, i’m not the one spending thousands on a cam girl who wouldn’t touch me with a ten-foot pole,” haechan retorted, his tone defensive. “and for the record, i do get some action, thank you very much.”

“sure you do,” karina muttered, rolling her eyes. “anyway, what’s the good news?”

haechan grinned like a cat who’d caught a particularly juicy mouse. “i can get his IP address.”

“wait, for real? what are you waiting for?” giselle leaned in, her eyes darting to the screen.

“hold on.” you hesitated, guilt prickling at the edges of your excitement. “isn’t this… a bit much? like, it feels illegal.”

giselle waved a hand dismissively. “please. we’ve come this far… we can’t leave with just this. we already knew he was a guy. only a man would be that desperate.”

“and besides,” karina added, “you’ve been sitting on this nerd’s lap for twenty minutes. make it worth something.”

“touché,” giselle said, nodding. “by the way, you can get up now.”

“yeah, but…” you paused, shifting slightly. “he was right—his lap is cozy.”

“told ya,” haechan said smugly, shooting you a wink. “so, should i pull up his IP or what?”

you sighed covering your face with your hands, hoping it would make the shame and ethical gray area feel a little less overwhelming “ugh. fine. just do it.”

haechan’s fingers flew across the keyboard, a blur of taps and clicks as lines of code scrolled rapidly across the screen. within three minutes, he sat back triumphantly.

“got it,” he said. but then his smile faltered, his brows knitting together in confusion. “wait… that can’t be right.”

“what?” you dropped your hands and leaned forward. “what’s wrong?”

karina’s eyes widened as she stared at the screen. “isn’t that…?”

giselle’s voice was barely above a whisper. “isn’t that this dorm?”

you all stared at the address blinking on the screen. it was the exact building you were sitting in.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“you’ve all been staring at me for the past three minutes, and i’m feeling very threatened right now,” haechan said, his voice trembling.

the three of you stood in front of him, arms crossed and glares locked onto his soul.

“well, we just think it’s way too much of a freaky coincidence that her top spender just so happens to live here,” giselle said, her tone accusatory. “care to explain?”

“wait, wait, wait,” haechan stammered, his hands flying up in surrender. “you’re not seriously implying i’m the top spender, right? cause that’s just—” he laughed nervously, “—ridiculous!”

“oh, is it?” karina quipped, raising a perfectly arched brow. “you’re always flirting with y/n and acting like a simp. what’s a few thousand dollars for your ‘queen’?”

“oh, come on!” haechan groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “i’m naturally a flirty guy. that’s my thing! and where do you guys think i’d even get that kind of money?”

he gestured around the room to back up his claim. the pile of ramen cups and the stack of free campus hoodies spoke louder than he ever could.

“besides,” he added, dropping his arms, “i’m not even subscribed to her channel. i admit i checked it out a few times after y/n told me about it, but i promise i’m not a weirdo or anything. you’re my best friend, y/n.”

his voice softened at the end, and you felt yourself relaxing slightly. haechan might be a flirt, a tease, and a relentless pain in the ass, but he wasn’t the kind of person to keep something like this hidden from you.

“he’s telling the truth, you guys,” you said finally, breaking the tension.

karina tilted her head, sizing him up. “yeah, i didn’t think a bum like him would drop that much money on you anyway.” she scoffed, crossing her arms tighter. “he asked me for five dollars the other day… by the way, give me back my money.”

“dude, it was five bucks! let it go,”

“let it go?” karina shot back. “i could’ve gotten a latte with that!”

“okay, okay,” giselle cut in, waving her hands to calm them down. “if it’s not haechan, who else could it be? is there anyone in this dorm who’s… obsessed with you?”

you blinked, thinking hard. “not that i know of. i mean, i don’t really talk to anyone here except for haechan.”

“how many guys live here?” giselle asked, turning to haechan.

“including me? 5,” he said, counting on his fingers. “but i’m pretty sure jeno has a girlfriend... so that leaves mark, jaemin, and jisung.”

“since when has having a girlfriend ever stopped a man from doing something shady?” karina deadpanned, crossing her arms.

“true,” haechan admitted with a shrug, “but let’s be real, girls… all of them are full-time students barely scraping by with part-time jobs. i doubt any of them have that kind of cash to drop freely.”

“you never know,” giselle chimed in. “isn’t mark’s brother the dealer on campus? maybe he borrowed some money.”

karina snorted. “you’re forgetting mark is practically a saint. the guy’s too religious and too much of a goody two-shoes to even think about something like that.”

“okay, what about jaemin?” giselle countered. “he’s always wearing designer stuff. what if he’s secretly loaded?”

karina gave her an incredulous look. “have you seen jaemin? he’s got a different girl drooling over his shoulder every other day. i don’t think he needs to subscribe to a cam girl to satisfy himself and i’m sure all those were gifts from desperate girls”

“then that leaves jisung,” you said slowly, the name clicking into place. “wait… isn’t he the one who let us in earlier? the freshman?”

karina nodded. “oh right, the tall awkward kid. that would explain why he couldn’t even look at you.”

“wait, jisung?” haechan burst out laughing. “no way. the kid’s barely in his twenties! you’re telling me he somehow scraped together eighteen thousand dollars to spend on y/n?”

“well, he does live in this building so that makes him a suspect…” giselle reasoned, tapping her chin thoughtfully.

“ugh, this is getting too weird,” you muttered, pacing the small room. “are we really saying jisung might be the guy?”

“i mean, you never know,” karina said with a smirk. “quiet ones are always full of surprises.”

haechan groaned, flopping back into his chair. “this is turning into a bad episode of CSI”

“if he’s the top spender, that means he has a thing for y/n,” giselle said, grinning. “we should just ask him directly.”

“absolutely not,” you said quickly, your face heating up.

“why not?” karina teased. “we’re already halfway to solving this mystery. might as well get the confession.”

“no, i think this has already gotten out of control… you guys are too caught up on finding who it is but personally i don’t care that much, i’m fine with not knowing”

“really, even after finding out he’s living in this very dorm?” karina asked walking up to you.

“yeah. i don’t care.” you were lying and they could probably tell by your face but, surprisingly, they didn’t press you.

“okay, fine. let’s go home.”

“i think we should have a sleepover. what do you think, girls?” haechan said and you responded by throwing a pillow at him as you exited the room.

“damn, not even a thank you.” he said, rubbing his head.

you sprinted back into the room and gave him a quick peck on his cheek. “thank you!” you said sweetly.

“and clean your room, it stinks!” you yelled from the hallway.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

winter break had ended, and after coming back from visiting your family, you’d mostly forgotten about the fact that your top spender lived in one of your best friend’s dorms.

but your dismissive attitude disappeared as soon as the new term started.

suddenly, you were hyper-aware of every one of haechan’s roommates. even the ones you’d previously ruled out. like, why was jeno suddenly smiling at you from across the dining hall? and was that… a smirk you saw on mark’s face as you walked by? certainly not—you had to be imagining things. you were just being extremely paranoid.

“hey, gorg!!!” giselle greeted you with extra enthusiasm, practically bouncing into the room.

“you’re happy today,” karina observed, raising an eyebrow.

“i am! i really think i cracked this case, y’all.”

you sighed, already bracing yourself. “enlighten us,” you said flatly.

karina rolled her eyes. “you do know no one cares anymore, right?”

giselle ignored her and continued. “by the way, how were you guys’ breaks?” she asked casually before immediately cutting herself off. “never mind, we’ll get to that later. listen, i was in line for food earlier, and guess who i saw?”

when neither of you spoke, she dramatically continued, “jaemin.”

“fork found in kitchen. of course he’d be at the cafeteria during lunch,” you said, unimpressed.

“no, but listen! i said hi to him, and he flinched so hard he nearly dropped his phone. then he tried to hide it.”

“maybe somebody sent him nudes or something,” karina said, shrugging.

giselle shook her head, leaning in conspiratorially. “no, but catch this… he asked if i was here alone, and when i pointed at you”—she turned to you with a wide grin—“he blushed furiously.”

you tsked, slumping back in your chair. “that still proves nothing.”

“okay, but isn’t it suspicious?” giselle pressed. “why would he blush that hard just because i mentioned you?”

“because he’s a human being with a working circulatory system?” you shot back.

karina snorted. “for real. giselle, you’re acting like you just uncovered a government conspiracy.”

“you guys are just blind,” giselle huffed, crossing her arms. “mark my words… it’s him. jaemin’s the one.”

“even if it was him, what am i supposed to do with that information? march up to him and say, ‘hey, thanks for the eighteen grand’?”

“you should,” karina said with a smirk. “at least get him to buy you lunch.”

giselle sighed dramatically, feeling like she was surrounded by fools. “fine. don’t believe me. but when this all comes out, just remember i called it first.”

“boo!”

haechan’s voice was directly in your ear, and you jumped so hard you nearly spilled your coffee all over yourself.

“what the hell! i almost ruined my new skirt,” you snapped, quickly checking to make sure no drops had actually landed on the fabric.

“did you buy that with jaemin’s allowance?” he teased, a grin stretching across his face.

you responded by flipping him off, which only made him laugh as he slid into the seat next to you.

“you heard everything?” karina asked, giving him an unimpressed look.

“hard not to,” he replied casually. “in case you didn’t know, gi, your discreet voice is about as discreet as a foghorn.”

giselle rolled her eyes. “thanks for the input, hacker boy.”

“i’ve already said to drop the topic,” you cut in, frustrated. “what if one of them hears? and! you guys are being so obvious about it… don’t think i haven’t noticed the pointed stares you keep giving to every guy from the dorm. i’m sure they’ve noticed, too.”

“we’re just trying to help,” giselle said, stabbing at her salad with unnecessary force.

“and i do appreciate it,” you replied, though your tight smile probably said otherwise, “but i’d appreciate it even more if we all just moved on.”

your tone made it clear that the discussion was over, and the table fell into an awkward silence.

you felt a little bad about shutting them down so abruptly, but the truth was, you didn’t want them to figure out who your top spender was. not because you cared about protecting his identity, exactly… but because you feared that, in the process, they’d also find out the full truth:

you’d already interacted with him before.

not just casually, either. your top spender had paid for private sessions. more than once.

you still didn’t know what he looked like since he’d never turned on his camera but you could probably recognize his voice. a voice that, no matter how much you tried to ignore it, had been replaying in your head ever since that night you found out he was likely a student in this university. a deep voice that had a habit of making your heart race despite your best efforts to stay professional.

“i know you said to drop it, but is it just me or does hae’s nerdy friend keep looking this way every few seconds?” karina asked, nodding subtly toward a table a few feet away.

you turned your head, catching a glimpse of jisung sitting by himself, fiddling with his phone. “maybe he wants to sit with us,” you shrugged. “call him over, hae.”

“yo, jisung!” haechan called, raising a hand to wave the taller boy over.

jisung froze in place, his eyes widening briefly before he hastily shoved on his headphones and scurried away like a startled deer.

you frowned, puzzled. “what was that about?”

“that was so weird,” giselle snorted, biting back a laugh.

“ah, he’s just awkward like that,” haechan said with a casual wave of his hand. “probably saw me sitting with gorgeous girls” he locked eyes with you as he said this “and got scared.”

“anyways,” you rolled your eyes, but the slight twitch at the corner of your lips betrayed your amusement. “i have to go.”

“part-time obligations?” karina asked, raising an eyebrow knowingly.

“possibly,” you shrugged nonchalantly as you got up.

“can i come?” haechan asked.

you rolled your eyes at haechan’s hopeful grin as he stood up. “you wish,” you said, pushing him back into his seat before grabbing your bag and heading out.

your destination wasn’t your dorm or the library. instead, you made your way to the small studio you rented off-campus, tucked far enough away to avoid suspicion.

the studio was modest, just big enough to fit a bed, a desk, a small bathroom, and your filming setup. the air smelled faintly of vanilla, thanks to the diffuser you kept running to set the mood. locking the door behind you, you exhaled deeply and began preparing for the night.

the routine was familiar, almost comforting. you hopped into the shower, letting the warm water relax your muscles as you mentally ran through the checklist. after drying off, you slipped into your costume for the night—a delicate white lace dress with baby blue accents that hugged your body in all the right places.

at the vanity, you carefully applied your makeup, adding just enough to transform yourself into collette, your cam girl persona and paired with a small mask that covered your eyes and half of your nose. the wig was the final touch, a wavy style that framed your face perfectly, making you almost unrecognizable from your day-to-day self.

“let’s see,” you adjusted the camera angle to capture the bed and the soft glow of the fairy lights behind it.

you glanced at the table beside the bed, where the new toys you’d promised to showcase were neatly arranged. taking one last look in the mirror, you marveled at how different you looked.

“all right,” you muttered to yourself, glancing at your reflection one last time. “let’s get this show started.”

you hit start on your stream, and the chat immediately flooded with messages, emojis, and tips.

“hi, guys!” you greeted, your voice shifting into a higher, sweeter tone. “missed you all so much during the break.”

the messages came in rapid-fire:

“omg collette’s back!”

“you look stunning as always.”

“been waiting for this for weeks!”

you giggled, leaning closer to the camera so that your cleavage filled the frame. “you’re all too sweet. did you miss me that much?”

the chat practically exploded with affirmations, and the pings of tips coming in made you smile wider.

“i see you guys like the new outfit,” you teased, slowly standing to give them a full view of your legs, moisturized and shimmering under the warm light. “but i didn’t just dress up for no reason. i have a surprise for you tonight.”

you reached for the toys on the desk, holding one up for the camera. “look what i got during the break,” you said, biting your lip playfully. “i thought you’d want to help me break them in.”

the tips surged as viewers expressed their excitement, but one notification caught your eye. andyp4rk02 has tipped $100.

you grinned, recognizing the username instantly. “hi, andy,” you said, your tone dropping to something more intimate. “you’re late today. i thought you’d ditched me for someone else.”

a new ping followed, this time $50, accompanied by a highlighted message: “sorry ;) private livestream later to make it up to you?”

you laughed softly, leaning back on the bed. “hmm,” you tapped your chin thoughtfully. “i think i can squeeze you in on my busy schedule.” with a wink, you moved to grab one of the toys, careful not to linger too long on a single viewer.

“shall we begin?” you asked, spreading your legs slightly to reveal that you were wearing nothing underneath the flimsy lace dress.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

on the other side of the screen, jisung sat in his dimly lit dorm, his face illuminated only by the glow of his computer. he’d barely made it back in time, his breath still heavy from the sprint across campus. it didn’t help that the second he clicked into your livestream, you were already spread out on the bed, teasing the camera with that perfect smile.

he adjusted his glasses nervously, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple. his heart was racing, but not from the run. no, it was from you. when you spread your legs, his breath hitched, and he felt his stomach tighten.

“you’re late today,” you’d said, and jisung shivered. god, it was like you were talking directly to him. well, you technically were, but still.

almost as if on autopilot, he unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants down. his fingers wrapped around himself, and he leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the screen.

the angle of the camera was perfect. from his perspective, it was easy to imagine that it wasn’t the pink dildo but his own dick sliding in and out of you.

“fuck,” he whispered under his breath as you slid the dildo inside yourself, your lips parting in a perfect "o" shape as you let out a soft moan.

“feels so good,” you breathed into the camera, your lashes fluttering. “can you make me feel good, too?”

“yes,” jisung groaned, his voice shaky as he gripped himself tighter. “god, yes.”

your moans grew louder, your body arching in a way that made his pulse skyrocket. his brows furrowed, and he bit down on his lip, trying to keep quiet so none of his roommates would hear.

you tilted your head back, the camera catching the curve of your neck and the way your chest rose and fell with each breath. “don’t stop,” you whimpered.

as your voice came through his headphones, sultry and sweet, he muttered to himself, “so perfect. so perfect it’s insane.”

his hand moved faster, his mind filled with nothing but the image of you—so close, yet so untouchable.

he leaned closer, his breath fogging the screen for a moment. “god… i can make you feel so much better than that piece of plastic,” he muttered, his tone almost resentful.

“you don’t even know what i’d do to you,” he whispered

in a minute, jisung came hard, his entire body jerking as his cum shot up and splattered directly onto his keyboard and monitor. he barely registered the mess he made until he heard the faint crackle of his PC struggling under the assault.

“no, no, no—fuck!” he exclaimed, his voice cracking as he scrambled to wipe the pc with the sleeve of his hoodie.

it was too late. the screen flickered, the image of you mid-moan freezing for a few painful seconds before the whole system shorted out with a pathetic wheeze and went black. jisung sat there in stunned silence for a moment, his hand still clutching the stained hoodie sleeve.

“shit…” he muttered, not out of concern for his destroyed PC but because he was now going to miss the rest of your live.

this wasn’t the first time this happened. clearly, his setup was already on its last legs from similar incidents but it still sent a wave of frustration through him.

he slumped back in his chair, running a hand through his damp hair. “guess i’ll just have to catch the replay,” he mumbled, though the thought didn’t satisfy him nearly as much.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the first day of the semester loomed the next morning. you had promised yourself this was the year you’d start fresh. on time to every class, taking meticulous notes, and becoming the academic weapon you’d always meant to be.

of course, none of that happened.

you didn’t hear your alarm because you’d been up until 3 a.m. doing private livestreams for your top subscribers. normally, private sessions didn’t last more than 20 minutes, but andy had an uncanny way of distracting you with his playful, teasing messages, keeping you hooked well past the scheduled time.

you ran into your first class fifteen minutes late, panting slightly and trying not to look as frazzled as you felt. the professor shot you a disapproving look, but a quick apologetic smile from you had him stammering and waving you off. men are so simple, you thought smugly.

after quickly scanning the room, you noticed all the front-row seats were taken which left you with no choice but to settle near the back. you sighed and headed to an open seat in the second-to-last row, cursing your luck.

on your right sat some frat guy you vaguely recognized from the same house as karina’s boyfriend. his name escaped you, but since he was already asleep with his mouth hanging open, you didn’t bother introducing yourself.

on your left, the person was less immediately recognizable. he was hunched over, hoodie drawn tight around his face, typing furiously on his laptop. his long, slender fingers flew across the keyboard with precision, but he didn’t seem remotely aware of your presence.

you cleared your throat softly, hoping to get his attention. nothing.

you tried again, slightly louder this time, but his focus didn’t waver. finally, you tapped his shoulder lightly.

“excuse me, did i miss anything important?”

his fingers froze mid-typing, but he still didn’t look at you. instead, he tilted his laptop slightly in your direction, revealing a neatly formatted list of bullet points. most likely corrections to the syllabus the professor went over at the start of class.

“oh,” you said, caught off guard. “can i take a pic of that?”

he gave a small nod, still not meeting your eyes.

you quickly snapped a photo and smiled. “thank you so much,” you said, your tone warm as you instinctively squeezed his forearm in gratitude.

you felt his entire body stiffen under your touch, his arm tense as if you’d zapped him.

“mhm…” he finally muttered, his voice low and rough from disuse.

you glanced at him again, catching a glimpse of his side profile as he adjusted his hoodie. sharp jawline, glasses slightly askew, and lips pressed into a thin line as he quickly returned his focus to his laptop.

you tilted your head slightly, curiosity piqued. something about him seemed familiar, but you couldn’t quite place it.

“well, thanks again,” you said softly, giving him one last smile before turning back to face the professor.

behind his laptop, jisung exhaled shakily, the spot where you’d touched him burning.

jisung knew you were one of haechan’s friends. he’d watched you walk in and out of the dorm more times than he cared to admit. you were always laughing, tossing your hair over your shoulder in a way that made jisung’s eyes land on you unavoidably.

normally, he wouldn’t even glance twice at the girls his roommates brought around. they were all the same: loud, shallow, and obsessed with their reflection in any shiny surface.

but you weren’t like them.

he’d noticed it the first time you came over. how your voice was softer, more melodic, how you smelled like warm vanilla instead of the overpowering floral perfumes he hated. he remembered catching a glimpse of you bending down to grab something off the floor and how his gaze lingered too long on the curve of your legs before he snapped his head away.

since then, it had only gotten worse. it annoyed him that his brain seemed to remember every little detail about you. the way your lips always looked plump and shiny, as if you’d just licked them. how your laugh was this low, throaty sound that made his chest feel tight.

it was frustrating, how easily you wormed your way into his thoughts.

and now, here you were, sitting next to him. jisung felt trapped, his senses overwhelmed by your closeness. the faint rustle of your skirt, the way your knee accidentally grazed his thigh, the soft, almost unintentional hum you made as you shifted in your seat.

he knew it was all normal, just small, insignificant things. but to him, it felt like you were doing it on purpose. when you tapped his shoulder, jisung’s heart practically jumped out of his chest. his first thought was how warm your hand was.

his second thought was how unfair it was that you could touch him so casually.

“did i miss anything important?” you asked, your voice sweet, your smile even sweeter.

jisung didn’t respond right away. he was too busy trying not to look at the way your lips curved when you spoke. he knew if he opened his mouth, something embarrassing would come out. so instead, he tilted his laptop screen toward you, his fingers twitching against the keyboard. you asked if you could take a picture, and normally he didn’t like sharing his notes but he nodded before he could even stop himself.

“thank you so much,” you said, your voice dripping with warmth. and then, as if to kill him on the spot, you squeezed his forearm lightly.

jisung felt like static electricity was zipping through his body. his skin tingled where you touched him, and he stared straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge how his breath hitched.

she doesn’t even know what she’s doing, he thought bitterly, his jaw tightening. so damn oblivious.

when you crossed your legs, jisung’s eyes flickered downward before he could stop himself. he caught the briefest glimpse of skin, the hem of your skirt riding up just enough to reveal more of your thigh, and his face flushed.

stop it, he scolded himself, tearing his gaze away.

but he couldn’t help it. he hated himself for it, but he couldn’t stop the way his imagination spiraled. he wondered what it would feel like if you touched him for more than a second. if your fingers lingered. if you looked at him the way you looked at your stupid phone.

his hands curled into fists under the desk, nails digging into his palms. he shifted uncomfortably, trying to will his body into behaving, but your proximity was making it impossible to think straight.

when the professor announced that these would be your assigned seats for the semester, jisung nearly groaned out loud. six months. six months of sitting next to you, of your bare legs grazing his, of your infuriatingly sweet perfume clouding his brain.

how am i supposed to survive this?

jisung clenched his jaw, his gaze flicking to the faint sparkle of lotion on your legs again.

she probably doesn’t even know how many guys in this room would kill to sit where i’m sitting right now, he thought, biting the inside of his cheek.

and yet, despite everything, jisung couldn’t help but feel a sick sort of satisfaction at being this close to you. like he was privy to something no one else was.

and as messed up as it was, he liked that you didn’t know. that you had no idea how much space you took up in his mind.

he glanced sideways at you again, the corner of his lip twitching as you absentmindedly adjusted your skirt.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

jisung bought a new pc, but it wouldn’t be delivered until the end of the week due to delays in the post office. he hated waiting. the old one had been perfect for watching your livestreams but now he was stuck with his laptop. the smaller screen didn’t do you justice. everything felt cramped and wrong, your image reduced to something far too small and impersonal. it frustrated him to no end.

so, in his growing desperation, jisung resorted to something he swore he wouldn’t do: borrowing haechan’s pc. at first, he only asked when he knew haechan would be out for hours, spinning some lie about needing to work on assignments that required a better setup for coding. surprisingly, haechan didn’t question him. he barely seemed to care, too busy running off to hang out with you and your group of friends. lately, you all seemed closer than ever, constantly whispering and giggling amongst yourselves.

not that jisung cared, of course.

but ever since you’d started sitting next to him in class, he couldn’t help but notice you even more. the way you crossed and uncrossed your legs every six or seven minutes or tapped your temple when the professor talked about a complicated topic. he hated that he was paying attention to things he usually wouldn’t. it was a complete waste of time.

today, jisung was forcing himself to focus. he had an essay due tomorrow, and he’d been putting it off for way too long, distracted by you (clearly) and everything Collette— streams, photos, even the grainy replays he managed to dig up online. last night was supposed to be productive, but instead, he’d spent hours rewatching one of the camgirl’s older private streams. by the time he passed out, his laptop was dangerously close to falling off his bed, his boxers halfway down his legs, and his dick sore after a night of relentless jerking off.

he made his way to the library, determined to lock himself in one of the private study rooms and finally finish his work. he needed to focus. no distractions, no excuses.

but when he opened the door to the room he’d booked, all of his resolve shattered.

you were there.

your books and laptop scattered across the table, and you were leaning over, reaching for something just out of your grasp. jisung froze in the doorway, his breath catching as his eyes landed on you. or, more specifically, the strip of black lace peeking out from under your skirt.

he knew he should look away. but his body didn’t seem to get the memo. instead, his eyes remained fixed on the sight, his chest tightening as if someone had sucked all the air out of the room.

his fingers twitched at his side, gripping the strap of his bag until his knuckles turned white. why are you wearing that? he thought, the question racing through his mind before he could stop it. are you wearing it for someone?

you shifted slightly, turning your head as if you sensed someone behind you, and that was enough to snap him out of his trance.

“uh—sorry,” jisung croaked, his voice cracking embarrassingly. he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and cleared his throat. “i—uh—this is... my room. i mean, the room i booked.”

you turned fully to him, startled at first, but then your expression softened into a smile when you realized it was him.

“oh, jisung!” you said brightly, smoothing down your skirt. “i didn’t realize this room was taken. sorry, i’ve just been so distracted, i guess i wasn’t paying attention.”

he forced himself to meet your eyes, his heart hammering in his chest. you recognized him now. during the first week of the semester, you’d seemed to be trying to place him in your mind, but he figured you finally connected the dots and realized he was haechan’s roommate after all.

“it’s... fine,” he muttered, stepping fully into the room and closing the door behind him. the sound echoed louder than it should have, making him wince. “i didn’t know anyone would be here.”

“well, i can leave if you want,” you offered, gesturing toward your scattered books and notes. “but if you don’t mind sharing, i really need to finish studying for a test tomorrow.”

jisung hesitated, his mind racing. on one hand, the idea of sharing a small, enclosed space with you was borderline terrifying. but on the other hand, the thought of you leaving made his stomach twist in a way he didn’t like to think too hard about.

“no need,” he mumbled, setting his bag down at the far end of the table. “you can stay.”

you beamed at him, and he felt a weird mix of pride and dread settle in his chest.

“thanks! you’re a lifesaver.”

you turned back to your laptop, leaving him to settle into his seat. jisung tried his best to focus on his essay, but his eyes kept drifting to you: the way you twirled your pen between your fingers, the way your lips pursed as you concentrated, the way your skirt kept riding up with every slight movement.

he bit the inside of his cheek, forcing his gaze back to his screen. his essay wasn’t going to write itself, and the sooner he finished, the sooner he could escape this.

but as jisung stared blankly at the screen, the words refused to come to him. his mind was too fogged up, the image of your black lace panties flashing at him. he could still feel the phantom heat pooling uncomfortably low in his stomach.

he adjusted his glasses for the tenth time in five minutes, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie sleeve. he needed to concentrate, needed to shove every inappropriate thought out of his head and focus on the stupid essay that was due in less than twelve hours.

but every tap of your pen, every soft sigh as you read your notes pulled his attention like a magnet. he could feel his skin prickling under the weight of his own thoughts, and it was starting to make him nauseous.

you shifted in your chair, crossing one leg over the other, and jisung caught a glimpse of your bare thighs again. he wondered how soft they’d feel under his fingers. he clenched his jaw, staring harder at the blinking cursor on his laptop. just focus. just write.

“hey,” you said suddenly, your voice soft but startling in the quiet room. jisung’s head snapped up so fast his glasses slipped down his nose.

“yeah?” he croaked, his voice coming out embarrassingly hoarse. he cleared his throat and tried again. “what’s up?”

you held up a book. “do you know anything about this? it’s for my history class, but i’m kind of lost on what the professor’s looking for.”

jisung blinked at the book, trying to register the title through the haze clouding his brain. the sight of your manicured fingers gripping the edge of the hardcover didn’t help his focus.

“uh… yeah, i think so,” he mumbled, his words fumbling over themselves. “i took that class last semester. what’s the assignment?”

you slid your chair closer to his, flipping the book open to a highlighted section. jisung stiffened as you leaned in, your shoulder brushing against his.

he could smell your perfume better now. it made his head swim, and his palms sweat.

“here,” you said, pointing to a passage. “i’m supposed to write an analysis on this, but honestly, it’s not making any sense to me.”

jisung forced himself to look at the page, his eyes skimming over the text even though he couldn’t process a single word. your proximity was unbearable, and the way you tilted your head to look at him made him hyper-aware of every inch of space between you.

“um,” he started, his voice cracking again. “it’s… about, uh, symbolism, i think. like how they use imagery to—”

his words faltered as your leg shifted, pressing briefly against his under the table.

“oh, i get it now!” you said, your eyes lighting up as you turned back to the book. “thanks, jisung, you’re really helpful.”

he swallowed hard, nodding stiffly as you returned to your side of the table. his hands trembled slightly as he adjusted his laptop, trying desperately to block out the lingering warmth of your touch.

as the first hour dragged on, jisung realized he’d barely touched his essay. instead, he found himself cataloging every little thing you did, learning more about your quirks and mannerisms than the topic he was supposed to be researching.

he noticed the way you squinted slightly when reading something closely. do you need glasses? the thought struck him out of nowhere, and the idea of you wearing a pair made his throat tighten and his dick stir to life.

you only seemed to use blue highlighters and matching blue post-it notes. the monochrome dedication was oddly satisfying to watch. jisung noticed you had a habit of twirling the highlighter between your fingers when you were deep in thought, the motion almost hypnotic.

when you weren’t sipping on your drink or snacking on something you’d fidget endlessly, picking up your phone, or tapping your nails on the table in an uneven rhythm. once, you opened an app but closed it just as quickly, as if scolding yourself for getting distracted. jisung smirked at that.

he noticed the way you pouted while typing, your lips forming a subtle, natural curve. every time you got stuck on something, you’d grab a blank page from your notebook and start scribbling aimlessly sometimes doodling stars or flowers in the margins, other times writing the same word over and over like you were trying to etch it into your brain.

you also had a habit of adjusting your necklace every few minutes, fiddling with the pendant as if grounding yourself. jisung wondered if it had some kind of sentimental value.

and then there was the small gasp you let out every time you found a passage you liked, quickly followed by you underlining it with almost comical precision. jisung thought it was cute, though he tried to push that thought away.

by the time the second hour rolled around, he was practically vibrating with tension. not just from the overwhelming presence of you, but from his own failure to accomplish anything.

you sighed softly and closed your laptop, stretching in your seat with a lazy grace that made his stomach flip. the movement caused your shirt to ride up slightly, exposing a sliver of skin and a tiny birthmark just above your hip bone.

jisung’s eyes widened. it was a small, and it was a flushed, pinkish hue, vaguely resembling the shape of a flower petal—or maybe a heart if he squinted.

why does that look so familiar?

he frowned, his brain scrambling to piece together the connection. it snagged at him, like an itch he couldn’t quite reach. had he seen it on you before? no, that didn’t make sense.

and then it hit him.

his heart stuttered as he remembered one of the streams he’d watched not long ago… collette’s stream. she’d been wearing lingerie that night, black with sheer panels, and at one point, she’d adjusted the waistband, revealing a glimpse of a tiny birthmark right above the hip.

holy shit.

jisung’s face burned as he realized the truth, his hands clenching into fists under the table. he couldn’t believe it. the girl he’d been obsessing over online, the one he’d jerked off to more times than he could count, was sitting right next to him.

he stumbled out of his seat, movements clumsy and frantic as he fumbled to gather his things. his hands trembled slightly as he zipped his backpack and he mumbled some half-formed excuse about having plans with haechan. the words tumbled out so quickly they were barely coherent. before you could even process what he was saying, let alone respond, he was already at the door, practically tripping over himself in his rush to leave.

“what an odd kid,” you giggled to yourself, shaking your head at his bizarre behavior.

he was strange, sure, but undeniably cute in his awkwardness. you’d always had a soft spot for guys who didn’t know what to do with themselves, and jisung was no exception. there was something endearing about the way he seemed perpetually out of place, like he wasn’t entirely comfortable in his own skin. but beneath the oversized hoodies and baggy sweatpants, you could tell he was hiding something.

he had broad shoulders that stretched the fabric of his clothes in a way that made you want to see more, and you still hadn’t forgotten the time he’d stripped off his hoodie on that unbearably hot day. the hem of his shirt had lifted with it, giving you the briefest glimpse of his waist, narrow and impossibly toned. you’d been thinking about that moment more often than you’d like to admit.

sitting next to him in class had only amplified things. you didn’t miss the way his eyes darted toward you every few minutes, his gaze lingering on your legs before he quickly looked away, as if he thought you wouldn’t notice. that’s exactly why you made it a point to only wear skirts to that class; short ones, ones that made it impossible for him not to look. it was a game, one you were starting to enjoy far too much.

you liked his hands too. he had large hands with long, slender fingers that flew clumsily over the keys of his laptop. you caught yourself staring at them during class, imagining how they’d feel against your skin, the way they’d grip your waist or tangle in your hair. you wondered if they were soft or if they’d leave a pleasant roughness behind.

his glasses added to the appeal, big-framed and slightly crooked on his nose. they couldn’t hide his soft, pretty eyes, though, or the moles scattered across his pale skin. every detail about him seemed perfectly crafted to make him irresistible in the most unassuming way.

but then there was the question that had been gnawing at the back of your mind, the one you couldn’t seem to shake: was jisung really your top spender? your friends had been so sure, pointing out all the coincidences, and you couldn’t deny that it was starting to feel like too much to ignore.

you smiled to yourself at the thought, unable to help the way your lips curled into something slightly wicked. haechan had mentioned how much time jisung spent in his room, his activities hardly a secret if you listened to the muffled sounds that occasionally slipped through the walls.

the idea made your pulse quicken, a thrill running down your spine as you considered how to take things to the next level. if jisung was your top spender then he was already yours in ways he probably didn’t even realize.

you toyed with the idea of making the first move, testing the waters to see just how far you could push him. he was skittish, easily flustered, and you had no doubt that one well-placed touch or whispered word would send him into a complete meltdown.

you suspected that if you really went for it, jisung might just have a heart attack on the spot. and for some reason, that thought only made you want to do it more.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the next time you met him in class, you decided it was time to confirm once and for all if he was into you. you dressed for the occasion, a skirt that showed just enough leg to make him squirm, paired with a low-cut top and your favorite push-up bra, the one that made your boobs look perfect. you threw on a sweater for good measure, unzipping it casually when you sat next to him, just enough to reveal the curve of your collarbones and the top of your cleavage.

“hey, jisung!” you said, your voice soft and lilting.

he barely looked at you, his lips moving in what you assumed was a greeting, but it was so quiet you couldn’t make out the words. he didn’t hold your gaze for more than a second, and from the way he kept staring at his laptop, you wondered if he’d even noticed the effort you put into your outfit.

you leaned in slightly, catching the faint scent of his detergent mixed with something musky. “sungie?” you whispered, your voice low and sweet.

his jaw clenched at the nickname, and his hands froze over his laptop keys. “hm?” he finally managed, his eyes flickering up to your face for the briefest of moments before darting away again.

“do you want to work on the project together?” you asked, tilting your head innocently.

his brows furrowed as he blinked at you, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and panic. “what… what project?” he stammered, his voice shaky, his breath audibly hitching when his gaze unintentionally dropped to your chest.

“the one he just announced,” you said, nodding toward the screen where the professor had outlined the details of the group assignment.

you watched as his Adam's apple bobbed with a nervous swallow, and he peeled his eyes away from you with visible effort. “oh… uh…” he trailed off, biting his lip. the gesture drew your attention to just how plush and soft they looked.

“if you don’t want to, it’s okay,” you said, leaning back slightly, your pout deliberate and perfectly executed. “i just thought since you helped me with my assignment last time, you’d be a good partner.”

he glanced at you again, his gaze lingering this time, as if trying to gauge your expression. your wide, hopeful eyes seemed to make his decision for him. “okay…” he mumbled, the word barely audible.

“really? yay!” you said, your voice bright with excitement as you reached out and wrapped your hands around his arm in a playful squeeze. the movement was quick, but enough for your chest to press lightly against him, the warmth of your body radiating through his hoodie.

jisung stiffened immediately, every nerve in his body firing off alarms. the combination of your softness and the faint scent of vanilla clinging to your skin was almost enough to send him over the edge. he inhaled deeply, trying to keep his composure, but the air felt thick and suffocating, and he was perilously close to letting out a moan that would’ve humiliated him in front of the entire room.

“i promise i won’t be a burden,” you added, flashing him a dazzling smile that showcased your perfectly sized teeth. “i’ll do my part, i swear.”

he nodded mechanically, his brain too messed up with the feel of your body against his and the lingering image of your lips curling into that smile. “y-yeah…” he muttered, his voice cracking slightly.

as you turned your attention back to the professor, jisung exhaled slowly, his pulse racing. his hands gripped his laptop so tightly his knuckles turned white, and he realized with growing dread that this partnership might actually kill him.

when class ended, you stayed behind, which was unusual since you were usually one of the first to dart out the door. as jisung zipped up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder, he noticed you looking at him expectantly. he panicked. did he have something of yours?

jisung glanced nervously at his belongings, double-checking as if your pencil or notebook might have somehow ended up with him. but you didn’t say anything. the silence stretched awkwardly until you finally stood up.

since the rows were so narrow, your movement brought you close… too close. jisung gulped as you stepped into his space, your perfume wrapping around him. he tightened his grip on his backpack straps.

“do you wanna start working on the project now? i have classes every day, and my evenings are pretty busy, so…” your voice trailed off meaningfully. jisung knew. oh, he knew. your evenings were reserved for livestreams. his evenings were also reserved for your livestreams. obviously, the project couldn’t cut into those sacred hours.

“uh, okay… do you wanna go to the library?” he managed, pushing his glasses up his nose. they kept sliding down because he had to crane his neck to look at you from this close distance.

“sure! next time, we can work at your dorm. i’d offer mine, but we have a strict no-boys policy in the apartment,” you said with a laugh, then added, “though my roommates break that rule all the time.”

“what about you?” the question tumbled out of jisung’s mouth before his brain could intercept it. his eyes widened as if he couldn’t believe he asked that

but you didn’t seem fazed. instead, you grinned. “you know, a lady doesn’t kiss and tell,” you teased, throwing in a wink that made his brain implode just a little.

as you spoke, jisung’s gaze flitted over you again—your mannerisms, your voice, that unmistakable charisma. the longer he looked, the more it hit him like a sledgehammer to the face. how had he not recognized you as collette sooner? sure, you wore a mask on the streams, and your hair was styled differently, but it was unmistakable now. you were her. and yet, standing here in front of him, you felt even more unattainable.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

at the library again, you couldn’t find a private room since you hadn’t booked ahead, so you settled for a secluded table tucked into the corner of the study area. it was jisung’s favorite spot on campus, not that he’d ever admit that to you. he didn’t want to look more like a loser than he already did.

you’d tied your hair up in a ponytail, and jisung wished you hadn’t. the simple change opened up your neck and collarbones, exposing more skin for his eyes to betray him over. he swore he could count the faint freckles scattered across your shoulders if he stared long enough. and, god, did he want to.

jisung sighed, pressing his palms into his eyes in an attempt to reset his brain. he needed to focus. if he was going to make it through this study session, he needed to stop thinking about your freckles or how your lip gloss shimmered every time your mouth moved.

focus, jisung. he started mentally listing the least sexy things he could think of: spongebob, frogs, khaki jeans, loud chewing. he even dredged up the memory of his fourth-grade math teacher, a grumpy woman he was convinced secretly hated him. it worked, until he realized you were talking to him, and he’d been staring straight past you like an idiot.

“sorry, what was that?” he blurted, blinking rapidly and focusing in on your glossy lips forming the last word of whatever you’d said.

you tilted your head slightly, your ponytail swaying with the movement. “i said, do you want to split up the research? or do you just want to work on the same section together?”

“uh…” jisung’s brain scrambled for footing, his face heating up again. “splitting it up is fine. yeah. let’s do that.”

you smiled at him, and he swore it felt like the library got ten degrees hotter. “great! i’ll take the first half, and you can take the second?”

“sure,” he mumbled, fumbling to pull out his laptop. as you turned back to your notes, jisung caught himself glancing at your neck and down to your cleavage again. frogs, he thought desperately. frogs. khaki jeans. loud chewing. but none of it helped.

he needed a cold shower. desperately. every time you leaned into him, jisung’s resolve cracked a little more. he was barely hanging on as it was, his left hand glued to his lap, pressing down in a feeble attempt to hide the semi he’d been sporting for the last twenty minutes.

“what do you think of this?” you asked, sliding your laptop toward him. your voice was sweet, your tone light and inviting, but jisung couldn’t focus on anything except how close you were.

“that’s good,” he mumbled quickly, trying to sound casual even though his throat felt like sandpaper.

“really?” you tilted your head, eyeing him skeptically. “you say that about everything i show you.”

“cause you’re really good at this,” he blurted out. he pressed harder on his lap, his fingers twitching in frustration.

you laughed softly, the sound making his heart stutter. then, to his horror, you gave him a slow once-over, your eyes narrowing slightly as you studied him. “you okay? you look tense.”

“yup, all good,” he said too quickly, his voice high-pitched. he glued his eyes to his laptop, pretending to focus on the passage in front of him, though the words blurred together into an unintelligible mess. please stop looking at me, he begged silently. please.

but instead, you cocked your head, resting your chin in your hand. “you know,” you began thoughtfully, “you sound like someone i know.”

jisung froze. fuck.

his mind went blank, panic flooding his system. his ears burned, and he felt a bead of sweat slide down the back of his neck. did you figure it out? do you know?

“but it couldn’t possibly be,” you said, shaking your head slightly as you turned back to your notes. “you’re too different.”

he released a shaky breath, his heart pounding so violently it felt like it might burst through his ribs. his lips pressed into a tight line as he risked a glance at you. so you did remember andy. jisung had assumed that with so many followers, even your most loyal supporter might fade into the background of your memory. but the private livestreams, the filthy words jisung had whispered that made you moan harder, all the praises and compliments he showered you with—it seemed those had stuck with you. because you remembered his voice.

“i’m gonna use the restroom really quick,” you said, standing up abruptly.

jisung’s eyes followed you as you walked away, the sway of your hips distracting him momentarily before reality snapped back into focus. as soon as you were out of sight, he groaned, his shoulders slumping as he looked down at his lap and the unmistakable tent that had formed there.

he needed to take care of this. now.

standing up, jisung winced at the sensitivity and began making his way toward the bathroom, his head down in an attempt to avoid eye contact with anyone. but just as he approached the hallway, he caught the sound of muffled voices. one of them raised, the other low and pleading. his steps faltered when he recognized your voice.

he crept closer and pressed himself against the wall, just barely peeking around the corner. there you were, gesturing wildly, your brows furrowed in anger as you stood toe-to-toe with someone jisung instantly recognized as sungchan, the captain of the basketball team.

“i told you to leave me alone,” you snapped, your voice sharp. “texting me from taro’s phone? really? now you’re dragging other people into this? why can’t you just understand that i want nothing to do with you anymore?”

“y/n, please,” sungchan said, his tone dripping with desperation. “i don’t know what else you want me to do. i’ve apologized a million times, and i’ve cut all communication with her. i haven’t seen her in months.”

he took a step closer, but you shoved him back by the chest.

“you should’ve done that before fucking her, don’t you think?” you laughed bitterly, shaking your head in disbelief.

“hey, it didn’t mean a thing to me, you know that,” sungchan said, his voice softening as he reached for your hip and squeezed. “you’re the only one i want.”

your body stiffened at his touch, and you glared up at him. “don’t touch me,” you hissed, but he didn’t move, his grip firm.

jisung’s jaw clenched. his fists balled at his sides as his eye twitched. why the hell was this guy touching you when it was clear you didn’t want him to?

“c’mon, baby,” sungchan purred, leaning in dangerously close to your neck. “you know i’m the only one who can make you feel good.”

before jisung could stop himself, he was stepping out from behind the corner. he cleared his throat loudly. the sound startled no one, so he did it again, this time pairing it with a sharp, “hey.”

his voice came out deeper than he expected, reverberating in the narrow hallway.

sungchan’s head snapped up, pulling away from your neck as he turned to look at the interruption. your eyes widened when they landed on jisung, standing there taller than usual, his broad shoulders squared.

“just wanted to check if you were alright,” jisung said, his gaze fixed on you, his voice steady.

sungchan’s expression darkened as his grip on your hip tightened. “and who the hell are you?” he spat, his tone venomous.

jisung didn’t flinch at sungchan’s hostility. his dark eyes flickered to your hip, where sungchan’s hand still rested, and then back to sungchan’s face.

“her partner,” jisung said evenly, his tone calm yet carrying a subtle edge. technically, he wasn’t lying, you were his group partner. “and she doesn’t look too comfortable right now.”

you glanced at jisung, your lips parting in surprise. sungchan let out a dry laugh, his hand finally dropping from your hip as he turned to fully face jisung. he towered over most people, but jisung stood his ground, unbothered by the difference in height.

“you’re her partner?” sungchan sneered, looking jisung up and down with a smirk that screamed condescension. “you don’t seem like her type.”

jisung’s jaw tightened, but his expression remained neutral. he looked at you instead, his voice softening slightly. “you sure you’re okay?”

your lips pressed together as you nodded quickly, your hands fidgeting at your sides. “i’m fine, jisung. really.”

but sungchan wasn’t done. “jisung, huh?” he repeated, his smirk widening. “sounds familiar. oh, wait—” he tilted his head, mockingly stroking his chin. “aren’t you that quiet little nobody who’s always hiding in haechan’s shadow?”

jisung didn’t react to the insult, though his nails dug into his palms. “that’s me,” he said with a shrug, his voice still maddeningly steady. “and you’re the guy who can’t take a hint and harasses girls.”

sungchan’s smirk dropped instantly, his expression hardening. “what did you just say?”

“you heard me,” jisung replied, his voice low. he adjusted his glasses with one hand, his confidence only making sungchan’s irritation grow. “she asked you to leave her alone, didn’t she? or was that too complicated for you to understand?”

you blinked at jisung, momentarily stunned at his boldness. sungchan, on the other hand, took a step forward, his fists clenching.

“listen here, you little shi—”

“stop!” your voice cut through the tension. both jisung and sungchan turned to look at you. you stepped between them, your expression firm as you faced sungchan. “i meant what i said, sungchan. this is over. stop calling me, stop texting me, stop showing up where i am. just—stop. i don’t want to see you anymore.”

sungchan’s jaw tightened, his nostrils flaring as he stared at you. “fine,” he finally said, his voice clipped. “but don’t come crawling back when you realize no one else is gonna treat you like i did.”

jisung couldn’t hold back the quiet scoff that escaped him, and sungchan shot him a glare before storming off down the hallway.

as the echo of sungchan’s footsteps faded, the tension in your shoulders eased slightly. you turned to jisung, your expression both grateful and embarrassed.

“thanks,” you said softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “you didn’t have to do that.”

jisung shrugged, his face a little pink as he adjusted his glasses again. “it’s no big deal. i just… couldn’t stand there and do nothing.”

“still, i appreciate it. my knight in shining glasses” you gave him a small smile.

jisung’s ears burned at the nickname, and he looked away, suddenly very interested in the floor. “ha, yeah.”

you laughed lightly “c’mon,” you said, gesturing toward the library’s main area. “let’s continue working”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

you continued having sessions for the project after class, and slowly, jisung started coming out of his shell. he still mumbled and stuttered every now and then, especially when your attention lingered on him for too long, but he was starting to hold actual conversations now. and once he got going, it was hard to stop him. he’d gush about the most random things, like his favorite video game characters or how much he hated remakes of old horror movies. sometimes, he’d pull up conspiracy theory videos about aliens on his phone, his voice picking up speed as he rambled about the possibility of extraterrestrial life.

“i mean, think about it… how could we be the only ones in this massive universe? that’s just statistically improbable,” he’d say, adjusting his glasses as he leaned closer to show you grainy footage of a supposed UFO. you’d nod along, amused by his enthusiasm, even if half of it went over your head.

you also learned jisung had a thing for metal music. he shyly pulled out his phone one day to show you his collection of signed albums from bands you’d never even heard of. “this one’s from when they did a secret show in busan,” he explained, his fingers tracing the signatures like they were sacred artifacts. “and this? their first album. impossible to find in good condition.”

“wow, you’re really into this,” you said, smirking as you scrolled through the pictures. “so... are you in a band or something?”

he flushed immediately, shaking his head. “no, no! i’m not cool enough for that,” he muttered.

you couldn’t help but smile. “i think you’re cool,” you said simply, and his ears turned pink.

but jisung’s curiosity didn’t stop at music or aliens. he was fascinated by the simplest things. one time, you brought a new lip gloss to class—the kind that didn’t smudge or rub off no matter what. jisung had been so impressed that he begged you to show him how it worked.

“wait, so it stays on? like, even if you eat something? how?” he asked, eyes wide as you swiped some on the back of your hand.

“even if i kissed you right now it wouldn’t come off”

“oh… w-what’s in it? do you have the ingredients list?” he stuttered, his hand coming up to his face to hide the blush on his cheeks.

you laughed. “are you serious right now?”

“yes! this is pretty cool,” he said shyly. “i need to know.”

he was, all in all, a total nerd. but you found that endearing. you liked how he could get so passionate about the smallest details, even if he didn’t realize how cute he looked when he did it.

what you wanted to know most, though, was if he was really loaded. after all, someone had to be, to spend eighteen thousand dollars like that. one particular evening, while you were working on the project at a cafe, you decided to subtly bring it up.

“so... you said you tutor a lot of students, right?” you asked, stirring your iced coffee.

jisung nodded, flipping through his notes. “yeah. it’s decent money, especially before exams.”

“and you... do homework for them too?” you added, raising an eyebrow.

he hesitated, looking a little guilty. “only when they pay extra,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “but yeah. it’s not a big deal.”

“huh,” you said, leaning back in your chair. “you must be really good at it to make that much money.”

“i mean, i guess,” he mumbled, avoiding your gaze. “but it’s not that much.”

“you sure about that?” you teased, giving him a knowing look. “because eighteen thousand isn’t exactly chump change.”

his head snapped up, and for a moment, he looked like a scared hamster. “w-what?” he stammered.

“nothing,” you said, smiling innocently.

he went back to his notes, but you didn’t miss the way his hand trembled slightly as he flipped the page. interesting.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the next time jisung almost had a heart attack because of you was after one particularly grueling day of tutoring half of sungchan’s frat. he’d spent hours going over equations with guys who clearly had no interest in learning and had been on edge the whole time, doing his best to avoid running into sungchan himself. all the bravery he’d mustered at the library had definitely worn off.

he finally made it back to his dorm, exhausted and ready to collapse, only to freeze in the doorway at the sight of you sitting prettily on the edge of his bed, flipping through one of the XXX magazines sitting on his desk. his eyes widened, and his mouth opened to say something, but no words came out.

you noticed him and laughed at his expression. “one of your roommates let me in,” you said, your voice light and teasing. “i think his name’s jaemin?”

jisung blinked, his brain struggling to process. “uh… yeah, jaemin,” he managed to stammer.

“i came to see haechan, but he wasn’t in,” you explained, crossing your legs in a way jisung was so familiar with now. “so i thought i’d pay my new best friend a visit.”

his stomach did a full somersault as he realized you were talking about him. “oh… uhm, hi” he said weakly, scratching the back of his head as he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

“hi,” you echoed with a grin, holding up the magazine. “some interesting reading material you’ve got here.”

“t-that’s not mine,” he blurted out, his face flushing red. “it’s haechan’s. i swear.”

you tilted your head, clearly unconvinced but too amused to care. “no need to be embarrassed,” you said casually, placing the magazine back on his desk. “you’re not the first boy in whose room i’ve found porn.”

jisung’s ears burned, and he had no idea how to respond to that. “right…” he muttered, shifting awkwardly.

“your room’s cleaner than i expected,” you added, glancing around.

“did you think i’d be messy?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“hmm, more like… sloppy,” you said, arching a brow in a way that could only be described as suggestive.

jisung swallowed hard, unsure if you were flirting or just messing with him. either way, his brain was short-circuiting. “oh?” he said, his voice coming out higher than he intended.

you laughed and leaned back on your hands, watching him with that same playful glint in your eyes. “relax, jisung. i’m just messing with you.”

he let out a small, nervous chuckle and stepped further into the room, trying to act like your presence wasn’t completely throwing him off. “so, uh… what brings you here?” he asked, carefully setting his backpack down.

“just bored,” you said with a shrug. “and since you’re my new best friend, i figured you’d entertain me.”

he blinked. “entertain?” shit, he almost got hard just hearing that.

“obviously,” you said, grinning. “you’re way more fun than haechan anyway.”

jisung doubted that, but he wasn’t about to argue. instead, he sat down at his desk, desperately trying to ignore how pretty you looked sitting on his bed.

“how about you show me how to play that game you talked about?” you asked, walking over to him and resting your arm on his gaming chair.

jisung blinked up at you, startled. “you wanna learn how to play League of Legends?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting up.

“sure. it sounded fun when you told me about it,” you said with a casual shrug.

“uhm, okay then,” jisung said, his voice a little higher than usual as he leaned to flip the power switch on his PC. then he paused, realizing he didn’t have an extra chair. “wait, let me go borrow haechan’s chair,” he said quickly, jogging out of the room.

when jisung returned, chair in hand, his steps faltered. you were leaning over his desk, your skirt riding up just enough to show him what color were your panties today. his first thought, entirely unhelpful, was how badly he wanted to bend you over that desk. his second thought, unfortunately delayed, was that you had turned on his monitor.

and on the screen, clear as day, was his account page.

“so, it was you,” you said, the tone of your voice laced with triumph.

jisung’s eyes widened, panic flaring to life. “what—what are you talking about?” he stammered, dropping the chair with a clatter.

“andyp4rk02,” you said, your voice lilting with satisfaction as you turned to face him, crossing your arms. “i felt it was you. but i’m glad to have a confirmation now.”

jisung froze, his breath catching in his throat as his brain scrambled for something to say. “i—uh—what—”

“you’re not even gonna try to deny it?” you teased, stepping closer to him, the corner of your mouth quirking up in a smirk. “honestly, i was starting to think i was crazy. but you just confirmed it.”

“i—it’s not—” jisung’s voice cracked as he tried to speak, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air.

you tilted your head, watching him struggle with an almost predatory gleam in your eyes. “relax, jisung. i’m not mad,” you said, your tone softer now, though it didn’t erase the teasing edge. “in fact…” you took another step closer, your voice lowering slightly. “i’m intrigued.”

“huh?” jisung’s voice was barely above a whisper, his throat dry as he tried to process what you were saying.

“the one thing i’m most curious about,” you said, taking a step closer, your tone casual but your gaze sharp, “is how you… a freshman, who doesn’t seem to have a job besides tutoring, managed to splurge thousands of dollars on me?”

jisung swallowed hard, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. “i just…” he mumbled, looking away, his ears burning as he avoided your piercing gaze.

“c’mon, don’t be shy.” you leaned in slightly, your smirk widening. “andy would’ve bent me over that desk over there and started spilling every single thing i asked for.”

jisung’s eyes snapped up to your face, wide with shock. how did you know exactly what had flashed through his mind mere seconds ago?

“s-sorry,” jisung stammered, looking like he wanted to shrink into the floor. “this is just… are you really not uncomfortable? with me, i mean?”

“why would i be?” you asked, tilting your head as though the question itself was ridiculous. “i’ve gotten to know you better now. i know you’re not a weirdo or anything.”

jisung blinked, staring at you like you’d just told him the sky wasn’t blue. “but i—i mean, with everything i said to you before… all of that—”

“all of that was online,” you cut him off smoothly, your tone light. “and honestly? i think it’s kinda cute how much you adored me. well, adore me,” you corrected with a sly grin.

jisung’s jaw dropped slightly, his face somehow heating even more. “you… think it’s cute?”

“of course,” you said with a soft shrug, your tone so casual it was almost disarming. “you’ve been sweet this whole time, even when you were trying so hard to hide it. honestly, i’m flattered.”

your lips curled into a teasing smile as you leaned in just slightly. “but now, i want to know—” your voice dipped lower, warm and slow. your eyes locked with his, drawing him in without effort. “how did you manage it? the money, i mean.”

jisung swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he struggled to form a coherent response. “well… uhm…” he shifted nervously, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “i… saved up a lot of money since i was a kid,” he began, his voice quiet but steady as he forced himself to meet your gaze.

“i made a system,” he continued, his words gaining a bit more confidence as he explained. “i cashed a lot of favors, even in school. i’ve been doing other people’s homework since primary, practically. also…” he hesitated, his eyes flickering to the ground for a moment before darting back to you. “my dad… he started giving me an allowance every month when i was 14, and i never really used it for anything. so… i’ve just been saving. for a long time.”

you tilted your head slightly, clearly intrigued. “wow,” you murmured, crossing your arms in thought. the movement wasn’t intentional—or maybe it was—but it pushed your cleavage up just enough to make jisung’s brain stutter.

his eyes flickered down for half a second before he froze, his face turning crimson. his chest tightened, his breath shallow, because he was sure that if he so much as brushed against you right now, he’d moan like some desperate, pathetic fool.

“that’s… impressive,” you added, breaking the silence, though your tone had shifted, tinged with something almost playful. “you must’ve been really dedicated to saving all that up.” your words hung in the air, light and teasing, but your gaze lingered, as if searching for something deeper.

“y-yeah,” jisung stammered, his hands fidgeting by his sides. “i guess i’ve just… always been good with managing money.”

“clearly,” you said with a grin. you leaned in slightly, your voice dropping just enough to send his heart into overdrive. “it’s kinda sexy, you know.”

jisung’s brain went blank, his entire body tensing as if he couldn’t process what he’d just heard. sexy? he repeated in his mind, struggling not to outwardly combust. his mouth opened as if to respond, but no words came out, and the only sound was the faint hum of his computer in the background.

“you okay?” you asked, your smile widening as you noticed his wide-eyed expression.

“y-yeah,” he managed to croak out, though his voice cracked slightly.

“relax, jisung,” you said, stepping closer, your fingers brushing the edge of his sleeve. his breath hitched, and you couldn’t help but smile at how utterly helpless he looked under your gaze.

“i-i am,” he stammered, but the way he gripped the desk behind him for support said otherwise.

you laughed softly, tilting your head as your hand slid up his arm, fingers ghosting over his bicep before trailing down to rest lightly on his chest. “sure you are,” you murmured, leaning in so your lips were just inches from his ear. “you’ve been nervous since you entered the room.”

“i… i’m not nervous,” he said, his voice cracking slightly.

“oh, really?” you teased, letting your hand slip under the hem of his shirt. your fingertips grazed the warm skin of his stomach, and he jolted, sucking in a sharp breath. “but you’re trembling.”

“t-that’s not—” his words were cut off when your other hand came up to brush the hair out of his face, your touch gentle yet firm as you tilted his chin up to meet your eyes.

“you’re so cute,” you whispered, your thumb lightly grazing his jawline. his eyes widened, his lips parting slightly.

“you’ve been so sweet to me, sungie,” you continued, your voice dropping lower. “how could i not want to thank you?”

“t-thank me?” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

you didn’t answer right away. instead, you leaned in, pressing a featherlight kiss to his cheek, so close to the corner of his mouth that he let out an involuntary whimper. “mhmm,” you hummed, your lips brushing against his skin as you moved to the other side, leaving a trail of soft kisses along his jawline.

jisung’s breathing was ragged now, his chest rising and falling rapidly as your hand slid further up his shirt, your nails grazing lightly against his ribs. “is this okay?” you asked softly, your lips hovering near his ear.

“y-yeah,” he managed to choke out, his voice trembling.

“good,” you murmured, pressing a kiss just below his ear, then another on the side of his neck. his hands gripped the edge of the desk so tightly his knuckles were white, and he let out a shaky breath, his head tilting slightly to give you more access.

you smirked, trailing your lips back up to his cheek, stopping just short of his lips. “you’re so quiet now,” you teased, your fingers lightly tracing circles on his stomach. “no more stuttering?”

“i… i don’t…” jisung panted, his words trailing off as your lips brushed against the corner of his mouth.

“you don’t what?” you asked, pulling back just enough to meet his dazed gaze. his eyes were half-lidded, his face flushed, and his lips parted as he struggled to catch his breath.

before he could answer, the sharp buzz of your phone vibrating broke the moment. you blinked, startled, and jisung let out a shaky exhale, his head dropping back against the wall in relief… or frustration.

“hold that thought,” you said, your voice still low as you reached into your pocket. your fingers lingered on his stomach for a moment before you pulled away completely.

jisung watched in a daze as you checked your phone, your lips pressing together. “looks like i’ve got to go,” you said, slipping the device back into your pocket.

“w-what?” he stammered, his voice cracking again as he stared at you in disbelief. “y-you’re leaving?”

“for now,” you said with a wink, stepping back and smoothing your skirt. “don’t miss me too much, okay?”

jisung could only nod dumbly, still leaning against the desk like his legs might give out at any moment.

“oh, and jisung?” you added, pausing at the door. he looked up, his wide eyes meeting yours. “you might want to take care of… that.” your gaze flicked downward for just a moment, and his face turned a brilliant shade of red as he scrambled to adjust his shirt.

you laughed, shooting him one last playful smile before disappearing out the door, leaving him flustered, breathless, and utterly unable to think about anything else but how good your lips felt on his skin.

that night, jisung lost count of how many times he jerked off. by the time he was done, he was so spent he didn’t even bother cleaning up properly. he passed out with a mess of cum smeared across his abdomen, his sheets damp and sticking to his skin.

the sound of retching woke him up.

he groaned, squinting as the sunlight poured directly onto his face. blinking sleepily, he turned his head to see haechan standing at the foot of his bed, his face twisted into an expression of pure disgust.

“look at the state of you…” haechan said, shaking his head like a disappointed parent. “seriously, dude, your dick’s gonna disintegrate if you keep going like this.”

“get out,” jisung groaned, voice hoarse. he rolled over, pulling the blanket halfway over his head to shield himself from both the sunlight and his roommate’s judgment.

“i would, but i have a message from y/n,”

jisung sat up at the sound of your name. his heart pounding as if he’d been jolted with electricity.

“she said she can’t meet you at the library today…”

jisung froze, the sudden buzz of energy deflating into cold panic. “oh,” he said softly, his voice laced with disappointment.

his mind immediately began spiraling. were you avoiding him? now that you knew he was andy, did you think he was a creep? were you disgusted? did you regret what happened yesterday? every terrible scenario played in his head as he stared blankly ahead, anxiety tightening its grip on his chest.

before he could spiral further, haechan continued, dragging out his words for dramatic effect.

“…she said she wants to meet you somewhere else instead.”

jisung’s head snapped toward him. “what?”

“she said she sent you the address and tried calling, but your phone’s off.”

his eyes darted to the floor where his phone lay facedown. practically leaping out of bed, he stumbled over the blanket, barely managing to stay upright as he grabbed the phone and plugged it into the charger.

“relax, dude. she’s not breaking up with you,” haechan said with a smirk.

“shut up,” jisung muttered, his focus entirely on the phone as it turned back on. when the screen finally lit up, he saw your message waiting for him.

his thumb hovered over it before he opened it. the address you’d sent was for a studio about thirty minutes away from campus. jisung frowned, his mind racing again. why there? what kind of place was it? and more importantly, how was he supposed to get there?

he groaned, already planning how he could convince jeno to lend him his car for the evening. but before he could get too far into his thoughts, he noticed haechan still standing there, arms crossed and a suspicious look on his face.

“what?” jisung asked, narrowing his eyes.

“nothing,” haechan said, but the grin spreading across his face said otherwise. “have fun tonight.”

with a wink, haechan strolled out of the room, leaving jisung standing there, equal parts nervous and excited, as he tried to figure out just what you had planned.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

by the time jisung reached the address you sent, he was soaked through to the bone. his hair sticking to his forehead, dripping rainwater down his face, and his clothes clung to his skin, cold and uncomfortable. jeno had flat-out refused to lend him his car, so jisung had to take the bus. the bus stop was two blocks away, and by the time he’d sprinted there in the pouring rain, his sneakers squelched with every step.

he stood now, breathless and drenched, staring up at the old building in front of him. the windows were grimy, and the exterior had an eerie, almost abandoned feel to it. with a reluctant sigh, he pushed the heavy door open and stepped into the lobby. it was completely quiet. the reception desk was empty, and no one was in sight, so he made his way up the narrow staircase to the third floor.

when he reached the door, his heart was hammering. should he have texted to let you know he was here? was he being too forward? after a beat of hesitation, he knocked, his knuckles tapping softly against the wood.

the door swung open after his third knock.

there you were, looking impossibly beautiful. your pink flowy dress caught the light, the fabric swirling around your legs as you smiled up at him. he’d never seen you wear a dress like that before. your makeup was flawless, more than usual, and the sight made his breath catch in his throat.

"you’re really punctual," you said with a soft smile, stepping aside to let him in.

but jisung didn’t move at first. his eyes scanned the space around him as he took it all in.

“is this…” he breathed in disbelief.

“welcome to collette’s studio.” you patted him lightly on the back, gently pushing him further inside.

“i wanted you to see it,” you continued, walking ahead, your fingers brushing against the smooth white sheets of the bed that dominated the center of the room. you glanced back at him with an expectant look.

jisung felt like he’d been dropped into one of his wet dreams. "i’m…" his words faltered as his senses overloaded, trying to catch up with what was happening.

"in shock?" you giggled softly, the sound light and airy. "you’re the first person i bring here."

"really?" he asked, his backpack slipping off his shoulder and falling to the floor with a soft thud.

“you brought your notes?” you asked, a teasing smile tugging at your lips.

"yeah…" he stammered, feeling foolish now. "aren’t we gonna finish… the project?"

your gaze locked with his as you moved closer, your presence drawing him in. his eyes flicked nervously to the neon sign hanging on the wall.

"hm, we can… or we could do something more fun?" you suggested, your voice a soft temptation. you stepped closer, until there was barely any space between you two.

jisung tried to keep his composure, but his body betrayed him. every inch of him stiffened as you moved into his personal space.

"i have a proposal for you, sungie," you said, your voice lowering, honeyed and sweet. your hand found its way to the back of his neck, your fingers tracing the skin there lightly, coaxing a soft sigh from his lips.

"y-yeah?" he breathed out, eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment at the sensation of your touch.

"would you like to guest on my channel?"

jisung’s eyes snapped open, disbelief painting his expression. “what?… y-you mean… do a livestream with you?”

he could barely comprehend what you were saying, his brain scrambling to process the words. "but you… you never do that… it’s always just collette."

you smiled softly, a glint of something mysterious dancing in your eyes. "you’re right, but for a while, i’ve been thinking of changing that. i just never found anyone i trusted enough for it."

jisung’s mind was racing. he couldn’t believe this was happening. you, asking him? how many times had he imagined being in this room, taking you in that very bed? but now that the opportunity was right in front of him, he was frozen. what if he wasn’t enough? what if he couldn’t satisfy you like you wanted?

“it’s okay if you don’t want to… it was pretty sudden of me to ask this,” you said, sensing his hesitation. you slowly withdrew your hand from his neck, leaving him cold and wanting more.

jisung panicked. he didn’t want you to think he was rejecting you, but the fear of embarrassing himself in front of not only you but a whole audience gripped him tight. what if he couldn’t live up to your expectations?

but then again, the thought of you finding someone else to do this with made his stomach twist with anxiety. he couldn’t back down now.

with shaky hands, he finally nodded, his voice barely a whisper. "i’ll do it."

“really?” you asked, your voice tinged with genuine surprise. you hadn’t expected him to agree. jisung didn’t exactly strike you as the type to willingly step into the spotlight, let alone in this particular way. this had every potential to go sideways.

but there he was, standing in front of you, his expression a blend of nervousness and determination. he looked like he was trying to keep himself from bolting.

you extended your hand toward him, watching as his gaze flickered down to it. he hesitated, just for a moment, before his much larger hand engulfed yours. his touch was clammy, his grip tentative, but it was enough.

“have you done this before?” you asked, glancing back at him as you led him toward the bed.

he looked utterly petrified, like a deer caught in headlights, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. “a livestream, you mean? uh… yeah, i’ve—uh—seen a few… i mean, no! not seen, done! wait, i mean—”

you chuckled softly, cutting off his flustered rambling. “no, silly. i meant… is this your first time having sex?”

your tone was so casual and devoid of any judgment that it caught him completely off guard. his entire face went up in flames. he nodded slowly, his lips pressed into a tight line.

your smile softened, and you stepped closer, placing your hands lightly on his chest. “then, we should practice before turning the camera on, don’t you think?”

he swallowed hard, his lips parting in a nervous attempt to respond, but no words came out. he simply nodded, his breaths shallow and uneven when you pushed him down onto the bed.

you reached for the straps of your dress and slid them off your shoulders, the fabric slipping down your body and pooling at your feet. jisung’s eyes went wide, his lips slightly parted as he stared at you. his gaze flickered nervously, starting at your feet and slowly working its way up, lingering on the delicate white lace of your underwear. he looked like he was on the verge of tearing up.

you moved closer, settling yourself onto his lap. the sudden pressure made him suck in a sharp breath, his hands hovering awkwardly at his sides.

“tell me what you like,” you murmured, leaning in just enough for your lips to ghost over the shell of his ear.

“w-what do you mean?” his voice cracked, and he looked up at you with wide, panicked eyes. his hands were still frozen in place, unsure of what to do, so you gently took them and placed them on your waist.

“you can touch me,” you said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair out of his face. “when you watch my streams… what do you like?”

his whole body tensed, his fingers spreading hesitantly over your waist. he looked like he wanted to crawl out of his skin, but at the same time, he couldn’t seem to look away. “uhm… i-i don’t know… i… i pretty much like everything,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“do you like when i use the toys?” you asked, your lips brushing against his as you spoke.

“y-yes,” he breathed, the word coming out shaky and unsteady.

“do you like it more when i lay down or when i sit?” you asked, trailing your hands under the hem of his shirt and tugging it up.

his breath hitched as you motioned for him to stand. he obeyed, his movements clumsy as he pulled off his shirt and hesitated with his pants. his hands trembled as he pushed them down, leaving him standing there in just his boxers, his face burning crimson.

“uhm” he started, his voice cracking. he swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the floor before flicking back to you. “when you sit?”

the second the words left his mouth, you pushed him gently, and he stumbled back onto the bed with a gasp. the flush on his cheeks deepened, spreading to the tips of his ears, as he looked up at you with anticipation.

“good,” you murmured, your fingers trailing along his chest. “then let’s see if you like this more.”

the sight of you straddling his lap made jisung’s throat go dry, his mouth parting slightly as his breath quickened. was this really happening? was he actually about to lose his virginity with the girl he had spent countless nights fantasizing about? every inch of him buzzed with nervous energy, and for a fleeting moment, he thought he might actually cry—happy tears, of course, but still tears.

before his mind could spiral further, he felt the soft press of your lips against his. the sensation was so unexpected and overwhelming that he whimpered without meaning to. the sound would’ve embarrassed him any other time, but he was too lost in the moment to care. his lips parted instinctively, allowing your tongue to slide into his mouth, deepening the kiss.

your fingers threaded into his hair, massaging his scalp, and a low moan escaped him. the warmth of your touch was intoxicating, but then your hips shifted, brushing against the hardness in his boxers, and jisung gasped into your mouth.

“shit,” he whispered, his voice shaky as his hips jerked up in response, pressing himself against your core. the friction drew a needy, broken moan from you that he immediately wished he could record and replay for the rest of his life. his head fell back slightly, breaking the kiss.

“how does that feel?” you murmured, grinding your hips against him again. “hm?”

“g-good… so… go—” his words trailed off, his eyes snapping open as he caught you unclasping your bra. the sight of you now bare from the waist up making him forget how to breathe.

he’d seen you topless before on your livestreams, but this was something else entirely. now, you were right in front of him, real and tangible. your breasts were perfect, even better than his wildest dreams, and his hands twitched on your hips, desperate to touch but unsure if he even had the right to.

“go ahead,” you said softly, as if you’d read his mind.

jisung hesitated, the thought flashing through his mind: am i even worthy of this? but before doubt could take hold, you grabbed his hands, guiding them to your chest.

“fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his fingers trembling as they cupped the warm, supple flesh. the softness beneath his palms made his head spin, and he instinctively squeezed, earning a quiet hum of approval from you. “so… perfect,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, shyness seeping into his tone.

you smiled at him and leaned in closer, pushing your chest into his hands. his thumbs grazed over your nipples, and you bit your lip, the simple action making his heart feel like it might pound out of his chest.

“you’re doing so well, sungie,” you praised, your words wrapping around him like a warm blanket. he felt his confidence grow just a little, his hands becoming bolder as he continued to touch you, mesmerized by how soft and warm you were.

“c-can i…?” he trailed off, his lips brushing against your collarbone as he spoke.

“go ahead,” you encouraged, and his mouth descended hesitantly, leaving a tentative kiss on the curve of your breast. the feeling was so new that he couldn’t stop the soft groan that escaped him.

jisung pressed his lips against your skin again, this time lingering a little longer. he felt the soft rise and fall of your chest beneath him, and it was mesmerizing. the warmth, the way you smelled faintly of vanilla, and the soft sighs you let out as he kissed along the curve of your breast—it was too much for him, and not enough all at once.

you tilted your head back slightly, giving him more room, your fingers still tangled in his hair as he kissed lower. his tongue darted out, shyly tracing your skin, and he heard you hum in approval. the sound sent a jolt straight through him, and his hips involuntarily bucked up into yours, pressing against your core.

“that’s it, sungie,” you murmured, your voice like velvet, guiding him. “you can touch more if you want. i don’t bite”

the teasing lilt in your voice made his entire face flush, but it also spurred him on. he let one hand wander, sliding up your side hesitantly before it cupped your other breast. his touch was still timid, his thumb brushing over your nipple experimentally. when you gasped softly and your hips shifted against his, jisung nearly lost it.

“does that feel good?” he asked, his voice barely audible, shaky and full of nerves.

“mhmm,” you nodded, your lips ghosting over the shell of his ear. “you’re doing so well.”

the praise made him braver, and he leaned back slightly to look at you. your hair was slightly mussed, your lips parted, and your eyes were hooded as you gazed down at him. you looked like a dream, like something he’d only ever dared to imagine in the privacy of his own room.

jisung’s breath came in shallow pants as he watched you. your skin was soft, and your scent filled his senses, making it impossible for him to think about anything else.

“take these off too,” you murmured, your fingers tugging lightly at the waistband of his boxers.

his entire face burned crimson as he nodded, his hands shaking slightly as he hooked his thumbs under the fabric and began to slide them down. his heart was pounding so hard he thought it wasn’t normal, but the thought of stopping never even crossed his mind.

you leaned back just enough to give him room, watching as he pushed the boxers down his hips, his movements awkward and nervous. once he kicked them off completely, he sat there, completely bare before you, his hands fidgeting at his sides as he avoided your gaze.

“hey,” you said softly, reaching out to tilt his chin up so he’d look at you. “don’t be shy. you’re perfect, sungie.”

his eyes widened slightly at your words, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

“you’re really cute when you’re flustered, you know that?” you teased, leaning in to kiss him again. this time, the kiss was slower, deeper, and jisung melted into it, his hands finally moving to rest on your waist.

you shifted in his lap, pressing your core against him, and he gasped into your mouth, his hips jerking up instinctively.

“s-sorry,” he stammered, pulling back slightly, his face a deep shade of red.

“don’t apologize,” you said, brushing your fingers through his hair. “you’re doing so well.”

your praise made his chest swell, and he swallowed hard, his eyes flicking down to where your bodies were pressed together.

“touch me more, sungie,” you encouraged, taking his hands and guiding them up your sides, over your ribs, until they were back on your chest.

his fingers trembled as they cupped you, his thumbs brushing over your nipples experimentally. when you let out a soft moan, his confidence grew, and he leaned down to kiss your neck, his lips trailing lower until they found the curve of your breast.

“just like that,” you whispered, your fingers threading through his hair again as he continued exploring your body.

your hands slid down his back, your nails grazing his skin lightly, and jisung shivered under your touch. his own hands started to roam more boldly, tracing the curve of your waist, the small of your back, and finally settling on your ass.

you shifted again, grinding down against him, and he let out a choked moan, his head falling against your shoulder as he tried to catch his breath.

“you’re so sensitive,” you murmured, kissing the side of his neck.

“i… i c-can’t help it,” he stuttered, his voice shaky. “you’re… you’re just…”

you smiled, pressing a finger to his lips to hush him. “it’s okay, sungie. just let me take care of you.”

he nodded, his hands gripping your hips tighter as you continued to move against him. every touch, every kiss, every sound you made drove him closer to the edge, and he didn’t know how much more he could take.

you leaned back slightly, reaching between your bodies to tug your panties down, and jisung watched with wide eyes as you discarded them. he couldn’t believe this was happening, like any moment he might wake up in his bed, alone and frustrated.

“are you okay?” you asked, your voice soft as you looked at him.

“y-yeah,” he said quickly, nodding. i just can’t believe this is real, he wanted to say but he was scared he’d sound like a loser.

“wait a second,” you said, sliding off his lap, the sudden loss of your weight making jisung let out a soft, involuntary hiss.

his eyes darted down, and he realized—much to his horror—that his dick was now standing proudly at full attention, no longer constrained by his boxers. in his mind, it was almost mocking him, like it was giving him a thumbs-up for finally letting his hand rest after all those nights of longing for you. jisung felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over him, and his first instinct was to grab a blanket or pillow to cover himself.

just as he was about to reach for one, his attention was drawn to you. you were bent over by your bedside drawer, rummaging through it with an air of purpose. then, you pulled something out, holding it up for him to see… a shiny silver wrapper.

a condom.

jisung felt like his heart stopped beating for a second as he stared at the little package in your hands. something about seeing it made everything feel impossibly, undeniably real.

“ultrathin… so you can feel everything,” you said casually, your voice laced with amusement as you turned back toward him.

goodness, she’s gonna kill me. jisung thought, swallowing hard as he swore his dick twitched at your words.

“you’re quite big, sungie…” you mused, crawling back onto the bed with a grace that made his breath hitch. you moved toward him slowly, your eyes dark with intent. the way you approached him reminded him of a lioness stalking her prey.

“let’s see if it fits,” you added, a playful smile on your lips as you straddled his thighs.

jisung was completely frozen, his pulse pounding in his ears as he watched you unwrapping the condom with practiced ease. your hands moved so skillfully, the shiny material glinting faintly in the light. then you paused, looking up at him with a question in your eyes.

“may i?” you asked softly, your voice almost sweet, though your expression held that same predatory confidence.

“y-yeah,” he stammered, the word barely audible as he nodded frantically. in his mind, he was screaming, please, yes, god, yes.

the corner of your mouth quirked up as you leaned forward. your fingers were gentle but firm as you grasped his dick, and jisung couldn’t stop the shuddering gasp that escaped his lips. you slid the condom over him with ease, the mix of precum and the lubricant on the condom making it glide smoothly down his shaft.

it fit perfectly.

“fits you like a glove,” you murmured, your tone teasing as you leaned back to admire your handiwork.

jisung didn’t know what to do. his hands twitched at his sides, his mouth slightly open as he tried to breathe through the overwhelming sensations coursing through him.

then, without warning, you slid up his body, settling back onto his lap. the sudden pressure against his dick made him let out a low, shaky moan.

“ready?” you asked, your voice softer now, your hands resting on his chest as you leaned forward.

jisung swallowed hard, his wide eyes meeting yours. “y-yeah,” he croaked, his voice cracking slightly.

you lifted yourself slightly, aligning him with your entrance. jisung was trembling under you, his hands gripping the sheets as if holding on for dear life.

"breathe, sungie," you whispered, stroking his chest gently. his wide, panicked eyes met yours, and you smiled softly to reassure him.

he nodded quickly, forcing himself to take a shaky breath. when he exhaled, you sank down just a little, the tip of him slipping inside. his whole body jerked in response, a desperate, broken moan escaping his lips.

“fuck…” he muttered, his head falling back against the pillow. his grip on the sheets tightened, his knuckles turning white. the heat, the wetness, the feeling of you was unlike anything he’d ever imagined.

“good?” you asked, tilting your head as you hovered above him, testing his reaction.

“s-so good,” jisung gasped, his voice trembling. “so… tight… warm…”

you couldn’t help but smirk at his reaction, but you didn’t tease him. instead, you lowered yourself further, slowly taking him inch by inch. jisung’s breathing grew heavier with every movement, his hips twitching upward involuntarily as if his body couldn’t help but chase the sensation.

"easy," you murmured, pressing a hand against his chest to still him. "let me take care of you."

jisung nodded dumbly, biting his lip as he tried to stay still. his eyes were fixed on you, watching every little movement you made in adoration.

when you finally took all of him, you let out a soft sigh of relief, adjusting to the stretch. jisung, on the other hand, looked like he was seconds away from imploding.

"you're... you're perfect," he blurted out, his voice breaking with emotion.

you laughed softly, leaning down to brush your lips against his. “you’re pretty perfect yourself, sungie.”

you gave him a moment to catch his breath, your hands gently running up and down his sides to calm him. when you started to move, lifting yourself slowly and sinking back down, his head shot up from the pillow.

“oh my god—” jisung groaned, his hands flying to your hips instinctively. “oh my god, oh my god…”

his grip was unsure, as if he didn’t know whether to hold on tighter or let go. his hips bucked slightly beneath you, and you gasped at the unexpected movement.

"you're doing so well," you encouraged him, your voice breathy but soothing. you leaned forward, kissing the corner of his mouth before nipping at his jaw.

jisung whimpered at the praise, his hands sliding up your sides as he tried to ground himself. his lips found yours again, and this time, he kissed you with a bit more confidence, his tongue shyly seeking yours.

you rolled your hips against him, drawing a strangled moan from deep in his chest. his reactions were so genuine, so raw. it made your heart race just as much as his.

“faster,” he whispered against your lips, surprising both you and himself. his cheeks flushed red immediately after the word left his mouth.

you smiled, pressing your forehead against his as you obliged, picking up the pace. his grip on your hips tightened as he tried to meet your movements, his breaths coming faster and more uneven.

“you’re close, aren’t you?” you asked softly, brushing his damp hair out of his face.

jisung nodded rapidly, his eyes squeezed shut as his whole body tensed beneath you. “i—i can’t… i can’t hold it,” he stammered, his voice breaking with desperation.

“it’s okay,” you reassured him, your voice gentle. “let go for me, sungie.”

the permission was all he needed. with a choked cry, jisung’s hips jerked upward, and he came harder than he ever thought possible. his whole body trembled as he gripped you tightly, burying his face in your shoulder as he rode out the waves of pleasure.

you held him through it, running your fingers through his hair and whispering soft words of encouragement. when his breathing finally started to slow, you leaned back slightly to look at him.

his face was flushed, his chest heaving, and his eyes glazed over as he tried to process what just happened.

“you okay?” you asked, stroking his cheek gently.

jisung blinked up at you, a dazed but blissful smile spreading across his face. “y-yeah,” he breathed, his voice hoarse. “that was… amazing.”

you laughed softly, leaning down to kiss him again. “you did so well, sungie.”

he blushed at the praise, his hands resting on your thighs as he tried to steady himself. “thank you,” he mumbled shyly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“don’t thank me yet,” you teased. “we’re just getting started.”

the next day...

“sungie,” you said, your voice soft and slightly breathless. you were sprawled out on your couch, your notes and research scattered across the coffee table, all but forgotten.

“last night’s livestream got the most views i’ve had in months,” you murmured, looking down at him. “they must like you.”

jisung looked up from between your legs, his glasses fogged and slightly crooked on his face. his lips were swollen and glistening with your arousal, his cheeks flushed a deep red.

“really?” he asked, only half-interested. but before you could respond, he dove back down, his eager mouth finding your folds once again.

a sharp gasp left your lips as his tongue traced over you. this was already the second time today he’d eaten you out, and he’d only gotten better since his first attempt this morning.

earlier, you’d guided him through it, patiently showing him what felt good, what didn’t, and how to read the reactions of your body.

jisung’s long tongue worked wonders, licking and teasing in ways that had you gripping the cushions for dear life. when he sucked gently on your clit and flicked his tongue over it in quick succession, your thighs quivered against his head. he took note of the way your hips bucked involuntarily, doubling down on the action and making you cry out.

“you’re such a quick learner,” you panted, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging lightly to spur him on.

he hummed against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your core. the sound was almost self-satisfied, as though he was proud of the way he had you unraveling beneath him.

the combination of his inexperience and raw enthusiasm was intoxicating. jisung wasn’t just doing this to please you. he genuinely wanted to understand every inch of you, to learn what made you tick and what brought you to the edge.

and he was succeeding.

your thighs clenched around his head, your body arching off the couch as he alternated between languid strokes of his tongue and quick flicks against your most sensitive spot. “s-sungie, oh my god,” you whimpered, your grip on his hair tightening.

he pulled back just enough to look up at you, his glasses messier than ever. “does that mean i’m doing good?” he asked, his voice slightly muffled, and for a second, his shy, eager-to-please demeanor broke through.

you let out a breathless laugh, your hand cupping his cheek affectionately. “you’re doing amazing, baby.”

his lips quirked into a bashful smile before he returned his attention to your core, determined to coax another round of trembling moans from your lips.

jisung park, you thought as you teetered on the edge of bliss, was quickly becoming an overachiever in the best way possible.

a/n: my inbox is always open for any comments about the fic! thank you for reading <3

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estrellacercadelvolcan · 5 hours ago

Note

Absolutely cute, adorable and 🥰

She wrote him a little letter/ note. I love this!♥️

He held his breath as he slid a finger under the fold of the thick paper, not wanting to rip the evidence of your fleeting thoughts of him. Loki was surprised that his fingers were trembling; but then, whenever he had received a letter in the past – it was always bad news.

Oh no baby, not this time. Can someone hug him please, he needs it🥺 The way you write this... it's perfect! His nerves, the sadness, the way he doesn't want to destroy the envelope.

He heard raised voices calling for him in the hallway. “One moment.” he thundered, cursing these infernal creatures who simply wouldn’t give him a moment’s peace. He inhaled through his nose, opening his eyes on the exhale.

This is important guys, don't interrupt him.😤

Loki,

Just a quick note to thank you for helping me out with training yesterday. You didn’t need to do that and I really appreciate it, especially with everything else you have going on. I know it’s been a lot recently.

If I can ever return the favour, anything you need – let me know. I’m always here if you need to talk.

Lots of love,

Y/N

That's so sweet! I love it when someone is writing letters. And writing a letter to Loki? That's perfect. He enjoys reading his books so I am sure he values this. He helped her with training! He cares and you can't convince me otherwise.

He didn’t know how many times he re-read the short note, analysing every word, until his thoughts were broken by a loud hammering at the door. “I’m coming.” he yelled, drinking in the words one last time before duty called.

Like I said...

He is thinking about this, he loves it, he is happy. That's the best good luck charm before a mission one can get.

He paused, placing a kiss against the folded card before it vanished. The faint smell of your perfume still hanging in the air. Had you sprayed it intentionally? He thought you had.

His first thank-you-note. He would keep it safe, always. In the safest place he knew – his heart.

The last line, the kiss and the way he keeps the letter safe!😍

Wait that's his first?! That simply won't do (Let me get started...)

@lokisgoodgirl Thank you so much for writing this. I absolutely LOVE it!💖♥️ Loki deserves to be happy and to get all the Thank-you-notes in the world 😌

Okay, I have to leave now and write my one letter to Loki.

Have a good day/ night!💜

And another little thing

None of those GIFs are mine. Credits go to the creators here in Tumblr.

And a last one: Loki being smitten by a gesture of the Reader bc no one has ever done something like that for him

Fluff-Drabble Marathon A link to my FLUFF Library is here Warnings: None (w/c 525) A link to my regular Masterlist is here [18+]

The Thank-You Note

Loki closed the door of his room quietly behind him. The sound of heavy footsteps running in the hall outside towards the quinjet thundered in his ears as his heart pounded, looking down at the envelope in his hands. You had slipped it to him during breakfast, before the call for whatever fresh hel waited for him. He knew they were waiting, but something told him that this should come first. He held his breath as he slid a finger under the fold of the thick paper, not wanting to rip the evidence of your fleeting thoughts of him. Loki was surprised that his fingers were trembling; but then, whenever he had received a letter in the past – it was always bad news.

Loki exhaled deeply as he slid the card from its holder, a simple gold design imprinted on the front. He moved it side to side, reflecting the light; admiring the shimmer of the foil as he acknowledged that he was stalling for time.

He closed his eyes, trying to steady his heart-rate as he opened the card; its message displayed brazenly for whenever he drew the courage to look. It was nothing, he knew it was nothing. Was he sure it had his name on the envelope? Yes. He was sure. He remembered because of the way you looped your L’s and curved the top of your K’s. He heard raised voices calling for him in the hallway. “One moment.” he thundered, cursing these infernal creatures who simply wouldn’t give him a moment’s peace. He inhaled through his nose, opening his eyes on the exhale. Loki, Just a quick note to thank you for helping me out with training yesterday. You didn’t need to do that and I really appreciate it, especially with everything else you have going on. I know it’s been a lot recently. If I can ever return the favour, anything you need – let me know. I’m always here if you need to talk. Lots of love, Y/N He didn’t know how many times he re-read the short note, analysing every word, until his thoughts were broken by a loud hammering at the door. “I’m coming.” he yelled, drinking in the words one last time before duty called. Thank you Appreciate it I know it’s been a lot Anything you need I’m always here Lots of love love

Loki felt his heart rise in his chest, warmth spreading like liquor through his blood. Had he ever received something like this for something so...trivial? So sincere. So pure. Had he ever received anything like this at all? He thought not. The god turned and flicked his head to the side, the leathers of his combat uniform rolling over his body as he prepared for action. His softened features turned stern as he flexed against the fabric, pulling his long overcoat tighter around his frame. He walked to the door with your note still in his hand. He paused, placing a kiss against the folded card before it vanished. The faint smell of your perfume still hanging in the air. Had you sprayed it intentionally? He thought you had. His first thank-you-note. He would keep it safe, always. In the safest place he knew – his heart. Marathon Tags

@holdmytesseract @lokischambermaid @holymultiplefandomsbatman @nightshadelm @xorpsbane @vbecker10 @mochie85 @thedistractedagglomeration @michelleleewise @lady-rose-moon @gigglingtigger @theaudacitytowrite @loopsisloops @sititran

#lokisgoodgirl #loki #loki x reader #avenger loki #amazing writers #reading

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gothicfied · 23 hours ago

Note

nam-gyu x shy reader 🙏🙏🙏

Nam-gyu / Player 124 with a shy reader

Pairing: Nam-gyu / Player 124 x shy!reader

Warnings: Mentions of death/dying, killing, blood (typical squid game stuff), other than that it's just fluff, not proof read (english isn't my first language)

A/N: TIHIHIHI I love this man sm

જ⁀➴ You realized pretty quickly that being rather shy in this place would get you absolutely nowhere. It made you an easy target, but no one seemed to notice you at all at first. Everyone was too busy with their owm stuff, their selfishness showing itself in the first voting. You couldn't understand how anyone would press 'O' after witnessing people die right in front of them. Was money really worth more than human lives? What would make winning even enjoyable knowing innocent people were executed? It left a bad taste in your mouth.

જ⁀➴ However, there was one person who noticed you. Since the vote was already this close, Thanos and Nam-gyu were set on trying to win some other people over to their side. They were taunting and relentless in their ways, even after starting and losing a fight with Player 001. The latter of the two had taken notice of you immediately, thinking your shyness and crippling awkwardness awkwardness was adorable.

જ⁀➴ It was clear to him you had no direction, but thankfully he was there to help you. Even if you didn't hesitate to press 'X', to Nam-gyu you seemed almost too easy to convert. He thought by charming you or paying you enough attention to boost your ego a bit, you'd 'come to your senses' and vote to continue next time. In a way, he knew how fucked up it was, but did he care? No.

જ⁀➴ Nam-gyu also thought that it'd be better if he took this over. Someone like Thanos wouldn't know how to handle someone like you. So, he'd watch your every move. Sometimes you two would lock eyes, to which nodded at you, but you could only look away quickly. You weren't good with confrontation and you already saw what those two were capable of, so you didn't want to draw Nam-gyu's attention any more.

જ⁀➴ Did that work? Of course not. Even though this should've only been to their - actually, to his benefit - he couldn't help but find himself attracted to you. You seemed sweet, almost too innocent to be in this place. A thing you weren't, though, was incompetent — and he liked that about you.

જ⁀➴ To get you out of your shell and make you trust him more, he figured he just needed to save your life. Make you feel like you owed him something. And in this place, fabricating a situation like that was obviously not hard.

After hearing the rules for the next game you played, the mingle, worry was plastered on your face. Watching everyone make a plan with their team while you were kind of just standing there, too shy to ask to join, it made you lose hope. This was it. This would be your last game, most definitely even. Thankfully, you made it out somehow, which was thanks to Player 124, or Nam-gyu, as he introduced himself. He had taken your hand and dragged you with their group to one of the safe rooms during a round and made sure you were okay after. "Thank.. you so much." you said again when stepping out of the room to a bloody mess on the white floor. You were careful not to step into any of it. "What? No," Nam-gyu laughed it off, "we have to thank you. If you hadn't come with me, we'd all be dead now."

જ⁀➴ Now he had you exactly where he wanted you. Vulnerable, but still trusting enough to try to shift your opinion. And you actually did feel like you owed him something. Now Nam-gyu felt kind of bad despite his and Thanos' plan. The more he got to know you and the less shy you got around him, the more he liked you.

જ⁀➴ You were smart and honestly very pretty and you even got along with Thanos. It seemed to him that you tried to see the good in everyone here, even if they voted 'O'. You were so full of life, he didn't know anymore if he wanted you to change your vote.

જ⁀➴ At least he got to enjoy these moments with you now, hearing you laugh and seeing you smile made him forget about the prize money for a couple of minutes every time. Perhaps he should change his vote to have more time with you outside of the games.

#squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game fanfic #squid games x reader #squid game x reader #squid games #nam gyu x reader #nam gyu squid game #player 124 x reader #player 124

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tossawary · 3 days ago

Text

Qijiu's reunion at the Immortal Alliance Conference could have so easily gone differently. If Yue Qi had had the time to express joy over Shen Jiu's survival, before Shen Jiu got angry at apparently being abandoned for a better life, and before Yue Qi then assumed that the failed rescue was the unforgivable harm rather than the apparent failure to return at all, they might have gotten somewhere.

But, you know, another way things could have gone differently is Yue Qi and Shen Jiu not coming face-to-face and recognizing each other at the same time. It could have been one or the other.

Wu Yanzi presumably can't slip into the conference because he's (not invited and also) a wanted criminal, but he might have been able to send his apprentice in to walk around, with Shen Jiu pretending to be just another random disciple among the crowd. If Shen Jiu had disguised himself to enter the conference early, he could have easily seen Head Disciple of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect Yue Qingyuan in a position of dutiful prominence during some opening speech, without Yue Qi noticing him in return.

The conclusions that Shen Jiu would jump to without any indication Yue Qi even remembers him? Bad. Obviously, the only thing to do there is take furious revenge and completely ruin this Yue Qingyuan's beautiful new life somehow.

Likewise, if Shen Jiu had been wandering around the conference to scope out the valuables, Yue Qi could have seen him through the crowd without being noticed in return. Maybe CQMS's head disciple is better situated making the mingling rounds rather than standing up somewhere with the talking heads. Before Shen Jiu knows what's happening here, he's being accosted in a quiet corner by some young master on the verge of crying on his stolen uniform. He just barely manages not to stab this guy about it.

"Xiao-Jiu, you're alive! I came back for you but I was too late and found that awful place burned to the ground! Nobody knew where you'd gone. You're a disciple of Huan Hua Palace now? I'm so happy for you!" this person says, beaming with ugly joy- wait, is this...? "I'm so sorry that Qi-Ge was so useless."

Shen Jiu barely manages to stumble out of this conversation without passing out. Yue Qi gets dragged away by some Cang Qiong master for some social responsibility, clinging to Shen Jiu's hands and swearing to find him later, and he thinks Shen Jiu is a Huan Hua Palace disciple. What was Shen Jiu supposed to say to that assumption? That he's actually lying scum?!

Shen Jiu now has to survive this conference without Yue Qi finding out the truth and without Wu Yanzi finding out about Yue Qi. Upping the tension of this fic idea: maybe Wu Yanzi does find out that Shen Jiu knows the head disciple of CQMS. (Maybe Wu Yanzi was lurking around the edges in disguise as well. Maybe Wu Yanzi witnesses some later conversation between Qijiu.) Wu Yanzi now wants to use Shen Jiu as an "in" to rob or otherwise harm CQMS.

If Shen Jiu is the one who saw Yue Qi first and jumped to angry conclusions and revenge plans about it, maybe the spiteful Shen Jiu likes the idea of reuniting with Yue Qi just to fuck him over like that. He's going to regret that pretty quickly, though.

#Teenage Murderer Honey Pot Shen Jiu: “Qi-Ge won't go for this. He won't do all this for me. He's too smart! ...Wait... Oh no. He's stupid??”#tossawary svsss #qijiu #fic ideas #shen jiu #yue qingyuan #wu yanzi #spoilers #long post

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aliceinborderlandsquidgame · 3 days ago

Text

We meet again | In-ho x Fem!Reader | PT4

Summary: It was only one night for fun, you never thought you would see him again. Even less in a place like this one.

P1 P2 P3

Warnings: S2 Spoilers - Canon violence - Pregnant!Reader - Non canon background for In-ho - Use of (Y/N) - Heavy Angst - Protective!In-ho - Panic!Reader - grammar mistakes -

"You must be joking" Were your first words after listening to Gi-hun's plan. "Do you even know how many guards are out there? Or how prepared they are?"

After another round of voting things had ended in a tie. Not much time after it a fight had occurred inside the men bathroom. Gi-hun had said how most likely the ones who voted circles would attack the X group during lights out.

And while it scared you to no end, specially for your dear baby, his plan was still something your mind could not get. If they had all the power to make so many peopel vanish and also kill them off like it was nothing...what chance did they had against them?

In-ho who knew very well how much that plan would fail (even if he was not inside the games) was only worried over you.

Since the talk during the last game he had got protective. He was by your side, making you be behind him and having a protective grio on your arm or hand.

The rest did notice but no one commented a thing, besides it would only make the athmosphere uncomfortable.

Jun-hee was the only one who had asked you during one go to the restroom. She was not judging, her own baby's father was here after all. She was just curious on what was the story of you two. Why you two seemed to be so apart at the start and now were close.

"Its almost a story you would read on a book" Jun-hee said as you cleaned your hands and laughted.

"Barely, it all started as a one night thing. Then I was so stupid that I forgot the pill. We did not see each other for months and now...we are here"

"But he cares. He cares so much. Really I can see it on how he looks at you!! Even before the migle game"

"Yeah...I do care for him too. I want us to get out and try to live together or be a real couple..."

"Well, we may be able to leave but the plan of Seong..."

"Its crazy. We wont make it. I- I cant even help them"

"I cant either, only thing I can do its hide once the lights go off" Jun-hee tried to make you feel better. "Its better like that, we need to think not only for ourselfs but our babys"

"You are right, but Jun-ho wants to help..."

"You are worried for him" She indicated "Thats cute"

"And a pain, I wish he would have said no to that plan"

"Maybe he is thinking in you and the baby. Maybe he wants to leave really badly and sees no other way out"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

Once you two returned the place seemed to be under lots of pressure. There was a tension, how some circles would look at Xs and back. It was unnerving and maybe even worse than the games themselfs.

"Can we talk?" In-ho came towards you "Alone" He added seeing Jun-hee besides you who nodded and went with the rest of the group.

In-ho moved so you two were away from everybody.

"Its this about Gi-hun's plan?" You asked and he nodded.

"Yes, it is. You should hide when the lights go off and not participate when we go for the guns" In-ho said in a serious tone. Even if the guards would never (if they liked their lives) put a hand on you unless he said so, the rest of the players were out of his control.

"I know, I cant do much anyways" You responded touching your belly "Why did you end saying yes ? We could win tomorrow ...."

In-ho took a deep breath. The reason were multiple ones. On one part this would be a good chance to get himself and you out from the games. If he did things right. And on other part he did not want to risk on tomorrow voting. Even if during the night Xs fought and lived nothing did for centrain said they would not vote circle next day.

"I believe in him" He lied "I understand its a dangerous move on our part, but I dont trust the others, not for tonight and not for tomorrow's voting"

You wanted to tell him to back off from it. You did not want to lose him in case the plan went wrong. But his next words shattered you.

"And I want you two out of here. Another game would cause you much stress, its not good for you our the baby...the little one has been strong so far but there is nothing like being safe and out of here"

When he said "little one" there was a small soft smile on his face, you could see how his hands wanted to reach and caress your belly once more but he held himself back.

"Hide well, I mean it. I dont trust any of them"

"I will, please dont worry about me"

Impossible. You and that baby are the most precious things to me right now.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

In-ho insisted on staying besides you when the lights went off. Just in case.

He had one hand wrapped around your waist and had pushed your head into his chest. He told you to close your eyes and ignore all of it, that if someone even dared to come near the bed where you two were hide then he would kill them. Of course he did not use these exact words in order not to scare you.

The screams of pain were terrible to hear, In-ho tried to shh you and tell you that it would soon end while also keeping a watchful eye.

Finally it was time, he kissed your cheeck on impulse and told you to not intervene. He went out just as the guards started to get inside the room.

You saw one coming towards him, but before it could even check the infamous chip inside his neck (as Gi-hun had explained earlier) he took them with force and in a clean move ended their life while also taking their gun.

The next was a small exchange of bullets and screams, the guards were finally leaving but one was left behind. Even if you saw them as nothing as monsters...their seemed scared.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

"Stay here, no matter what you hear. Stay here with Jun-hee. It will be safe" He assured you, like he knew more than what he was letting out.

"But what if you- what if something happens to you?" You asked him with tears already falling, not knowing that he would be safe.

It broke his heart to see you like that. So worried over him when there was nothing to be worried about. But he could not tell you, not here.

"Shh, I will be fine. I promise you" After a small pause he added "I promise both of you" His hand resting on your belly.

"In-ho, its time" Gi-hun said softly when he saw the exchange, part of him felt bad for interrumping the sweet moment. And was feeling guilty already, he knew he could not let In-ho die.

"Yes, on it"

"I love you, both of you" In-ho softly said finally leaving.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

The gunshots would be hear from the room, you flinched everytime, worried that one of these was mean for In-ho.

"Breath (Y/N)" Jun-hee reminded you when she saw you starting to panic. "They will be alright"

"Jun-hee...dont tell me things you can guarnate" You whispered hugging her and she just held you there. It was true, she could not be sure if they would make it.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

In his mind this part was supposed to be easy, trick Gi-hun into thinking that he and the rest had died. But it would mean making you believe that he was dead as well.

He pressed his lips on a thin line, worried over you and the baby. His little one. The only good thing was that he would be able to pull you out from the games but-

But you would have to believe that he was indeed dead.

"Take player 344 from the room, bring her to my room and call the Doctor too. Do not harm her" He ordered to one of his most trusted square guards.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

Once more the guards entered, pulling everybody to their knees and demanding them to be under control.

You started to tremble not because of the imposed figure of a saqueare guard over you, saying something about you having to go back with them. Your mind was working on In-ho..was he? Was he really?

Jun-hee despite the protest of player 333 went towards you and the guard to try and keep you there saying how you had nothing to do with the attack. But the guard only pointed their gun to her, that broke your somehow dazed state.

"I will go, just let her be"

"No (Y/N)!" Jun-hee tried to go towards you but was held back by Player 333.

"Dont worry Jun-hee" You said giving her a sad smile.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

You had no idea where you were being taken. The guard did not say a word but also kept a slow peace like he was taking care over you.

You two made it a elevator, all black inside. The guard urged you inside and pushed some buttons till it started to move.

The doors opened revealing a dark corridor the guard guided you towards a big black door, he opened it revealing a big screen now turned off and a black couch. But there was another guard, however this was only had his face covered by the black fabric only his eyes were seen.

You took note of a few medical tools and you started to get nervous.

"Stay calm, I was told to check on your health and your baby, please sit here. We can move you to the bed to examine your baby"

Now you were confused, why check your health? What about Jun-hee?

"But there is another woman who-"

"I was only told to check on you. Please" He said tone incredible soft.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

After the examination the Guard (who told you he was a doctor) said that the baby was healthy, but that you needed rest and more food.

Both guards went to leave, but you stopped them.

"W-wait, im not going back?" You asked confused.

"Player 344, you have been eliminated from the games" Was the only response you got and were left alone in the dark room.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

"Sir, player 344 has been examinated and left in your room" The guard said to their Boss who just nodded back.

"I will be there soon"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

Hours passed, you were scared. You stayied on the bed, too tired to move, this bed was too confortable too, and after listening to the Doctor's words you imagined this was good for your baby.

Even if you still felt bad.

You had been crying for the last hours, not beliving that In-ho could be dead, no in fact part of you refused to believe it.

And Jun-hee your friend...the one who was in the same desesperated situation as you. You could not believe she was still there...

Outside the door stood In-ho in his Front Man clothes, he was scared of your reaction, would he tell you it was him ? What was he supposed to do ?

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

The doors opened making a sound, you had fallend asleep after crying. One hand on your belly like you were protecting it even in your sleep.

In-ho felt his heart go down and up, the sight was...beautiful in a strange way. Why could things dont be easier? You could wait for him like this everyday, the three of you could live together and he would be such a good father.

His gloved hand went to touch your face, slowly tracing your cheeck. Your tears broke his heart.

Your eyes started to move, and he pushed himself away. Not wanting to scare you.

Once you finally woke up you saw a dark figured, a black mask, you moved away against the wall.

"W-who are you?" You tone was evident, you were scared and confused.

"Im the Front Man, player 344 you have been eliminated from the games and will be sent back"

"What? Wait, does this mean I-"

In-ho held up his hand dont wanting you to continue, things were already too difficult for him.

"Your situation was analyzed and so decided that you wont continue"

"But- there is another woman! Jun-hee, player 222, she needs to be out as well" You exclaimed getting up and going closer to him.

"Player 222 will continue in the games. Thats final"

"B-but why?"

"Should you not be happy for you and your baby?"

"Im, but im not a hearthless person, if I can get out because of my situation then she can too"

In-ho took a deep breath, he could not believe how even now you were thinking in others.

But he that was part of your charm as well...

"Its a final decision, besides you are soon to give birth. That was what the Doctor said, we cant let that happen in here"

Without thinking his gloved hand went to your belly, one more time, he needed to feel it just one more time-

"Dont touch me" You said in grith theeth taking his hand and pushing it away. In all honestly I hurted him more than any pain he had endured before.

"You are a monster, you- You keep the games going and let others die. You are nothing but a piece of shit"

In-ho knew you were nervous, scared, angry and much more. But your words cut deep, his soul breaking.

"You will be send back home soon. I recommend you dont try to talk about this to others. Nothing good will come from it" These were going to be his last words for you when he turned back.

"W-wait, player 001, In-ho...is he"

"Player 001 has been eliminated" Were his final words, he did not turn when he hear your cry, knowing he would not resist going back and comfort you.

No, instead he went away. Blocking your cries. Outside a guard stood still waiting for orders.

"Check on her, make sure she does not hurt herself and that she eats her food tonight. All of it"

A bittersweet goodbye

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

Final note: An epilogue will be out !! 💜

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

Tags:

@maria-trisha @blueyesuguru @imenekiki @victorie767 @futuristicdefendorfart @heyitsmefall

@love-you-louise @fantasylovestoryme @sleepyycatt @nightdark-dreamdark @lindsay00000 @ourlovesarang @smally97 @zigmasstuff @aleemendoz @the-disaster-in-waiting

@ilovequeen978 @sc4rrc @sylviavf @l4venderia @blueeclipsepaperstudent @annasnape7 @llawlietluv @florgenegrastuff @luv1ze @jspidey5

@moonoteru @saaraahnger @hope4rain19 @soniiyi @angelmoneter @skywalker0809 @ashsallyblue2 @realrintaro @bellstwd @tojisrealwifey @otterluver05 @yuan1819 @spanish-delulu-23 @lisaannwalterlover @yodayyy @tenzko @tinylawyerbluebird @istanstraykidss

I could not tag some of you 😔

#squid game x y/n #squid game imagine #squid game imagines #squid game x reader #in ho x reader

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lokidjarin-7567 · 2 days ago

Text

I Hate It Here ~ Part 2

Kang Dae-ho x Reader

You had survived the first few games together, and your friendship was growing stronger, but your newfound trust would still have to withstand the deadliest game so far.

fem!reader, fluff, see part 1 for more

5.1k words

And here it is - the promised part 2!! I haven’t decided if I’m doing a part 3 yet, but hope you enjoy this for now <3

Taglist: @itsvaleriegarza @marymustdie @hardbeingcasual @onlyangle1 @mady005 @loonysbarn @ghostofscarley

TTPD Contents | General Masterlist | AO3

<- part 1

The sun beat down on you, tinted shades doing little to shield you from its glare. You could feel the warmth of the sand beneath your bare legs and back, the pink grains soaking up every beam of light. You stretched out your hands far above your head, content and peaceful as your body sank further into the malleable surface, eyes drifting closed.

Then your peace was interrupted by a shower of droplets, salty water splattering your skin. You squealed, opening your eyes to see Dae-ho standing over you, smile wider than you’d ever seen it, shaking his long, dripping hair like a puppy.

“Dae-ho!” You gasped, secretly grateful for the splash of cool. He laughed, standing straight again and running his hands through the tangled locks. You were glad for the opportunity it gave you to gaze at him like this - happy and free. He was almost shining in the sun, the ocean drops still clinging to his form and practically glittering in the light. The way his body moved when he laughed was like art, toned chest rising and falling, arms flexing as he pulled his hair back into a lazy bun.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist.” He said with a grin, sitting on the soft sand beside you. His fingers moved to trace the droplets still sitting on your arm, connecting them with soft strokes like a constellation across your skin. You hummed in contentment.

“I just looked too relaxed, did I?” You asked in cheek, smile widening.

“Exactly. Need to keep you on your toes.” You closed your eyes again, only to feel his dripping wet head touch your shoulder mere moments later. You squinted, looking down to see him sprawled out across the sand perpendicular to you, arm draped across his eyes and using you as a pillow. Your heart swelled at the domesticity of it, the way he was so relaxed around you. Free from the games, free from your lives in the bustling city, free from the debt that used to drown you. It was a side of him you loved seeing; when he wasn’t on edge, or feeling like he always had to protect you from something. Just… calm. You pressed a feather light kiss to his forehead, the taste of salt and the scent of him filling your senses, and you watched as his lips curved slightly at the gesture.

Then something caught your eye. A flash of colour, just at the edge of your vision. There, by the sea front, a person was standing in a pink jumpsuit. Your heart dropped at the sight of them, recognising the uniform of the guards even without the signature mask. You moved to sit up, but Dae-ho’s head rested heavy on your shoulder. You tried to speak, to warn him, but nothing came out. Their face was blurry, but you knew they were looking at you somehow, whole body paralysed in fear. Then they started to move closer. Their steps were quick, and you tried to scream again, to move, to do anything but nothing happened. You couldn’t move, couldn’t make a sound. You could only watch as the faceless figure pulled a gun from their pocket, and shot Dae-ho in the chest.

You woke abruptly, gasping for air as your mind slowly worked out where you were, simultaneously relieved and disappointed to still be in this place. You took a few seconds to calm your panic, using the rise and fall of Dae-ho’s chest under your hand to slow your racing heart. His own hand had fallen from your waist in sleep, so you slowly and gently shuffled yourself out from under the bunks, careful not to wake him. As soon as you were sitting up, you ran your hands over your face, only to realise it was wet from the silent tears that had fallen from your dream. You wiped them away, steeling yourself, before glancing up to see who was awake. Young-il and Jung-bae were on watch right now, but from the looks of it, Jung-bae had fallen asleep, much to the annoyance of Player 001, who had a firm scowl on his face. Coincidently, Gi-hun seemed to wake up at the same time as you, crawling out from the single mattress with a yawn.

“Young-il…” you muttered quietly, not wanting to wake Jung-bae from his peaceful position, curled on the floor like a baby. “Have you been awake since we switched?” He nodded wordlessly, and he looked exhausted, eyes starting to droop. “Go to sleep for a while. I can look out for now.”

“Are you sure?” You opened your mouth to speak, but Gi-hun answered for you.

“I’ll stay up with her too. I won’t be able to fall asleep now anyway.” You nodded in agreement, and Young-il gently bowed his head in your direction. He settled himself in the single mattress, while Gi-hun woke Jung-bae gently, ushering him to where you had just been sleeping, insisting he would be in pain tomorrow if he slept on the floor. He agreed quietly, still half asleep, and barely a minute after he had settled in, you heard his soft snores once more.

You sat in silence with Gi-hun for a while, still rattled from your dream. It had been such an intense dichotomy; the beauty and peace ruined with senseless violence. The feeling of losing him was still stuck in your throat, sharp and painful, and you tucked your legs to your chest, hugging them tight in the hope that it might give you some small comfort.

“Are you ok?” Gi-hun muttered, sensing the fear radiating from you.

“Yeah, I just… how did you do it? When you won the last game… how did you cope with… losing people? Or did you manage to stay detached…” He laughed coldly at that, interrupting your rambling and shaking his head.

“When I woke up in that first game, I discovered that my childhood friend was there too. He was so well known in the community we grew up in - a genius that graduated from SNU, the pride of Ssangmun-dong. Everything I know about this game, I learnt from him. His perception every time we played something new, his ability to read the other people, his intelligence and strategy… it kept me alive for so long. Then he started to let the game get to him. Became more ruthless, killing people to get what he wanted. There was a young girl - someone who stole from me just before the game, but we became allies fast and I started to think of her like…” He paused, emotion raw as his voice cracked at the mention of her. “You remind me of her, actually. Resourceful, smart, kind….” Another pause, and he clenched his jaw, composing himself. “We were the final three. And he killed her in cold blood. Then in the final game…” He didn’t need to finish his sentence. Your heart hurt for him, losing the people he loved and cared about in such a brutal way, so out of his control. Even if his friend had changed, that wouldn’t have stopped how much it hurt to have to do that.

“But… couldn’t you have split the money and walked? The three of you?” A tear fell from his eye at that, the only sign of emotion perceptible on his face, and he sighed sadly as he wiped it away.

“That wasn’t a rule in our game. It was walk and get nothing, or kill and get everything. I wanted to choose the former, but when he killed Sae-byeok… I had no choice.” You nodded.

“What was his name?” He finally glanced at you then, shock falling across his features briefly before being replaced with a sad smile.

“Sang-woo. Cho Sang-woo.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Gi-hun. Truly. This game…” You reached for his hand, gripping it tight in both of yours, and he nodded, placing his other hand on your arm comfortingly.

“Thank you. I’ve not… Nobody has asked about them, because nobody knows what happened to them. So thank you for giving me the chance to talk about them. They were good people, truly, even after everything.” He nodded to you one last time, before removing his hands from yours and clearing his throat. “I’m sorry, I got sidetracked… in answer to your question, I didn’t manage to stay detached from it. I lost everyone, and not a day goes by where I don’t think of them.” He turned to face you, eyes scanning your undoubtedly terrified face. “I’m sorry, I know that the answer you wanted.”

“It’s not, but it’s the answer I expected. It’s too late anyway. I fear I’m already irrevocably attached to this team.” You sighed deeply, hugging your legs tightly.

“I guess we’ll all just have to stay alive for one more game.”

The music started, and you watched as everyone woke up, your team crawling from beneath the beds. The anxiety of what the day might bring was already making you sick to your stomach, but as soon as Dae-ho was in view, grinning widely when he spotted you, you instantly felt calmer.

“Morning.” He said cheerily, sitting next to you as the speakers announced that the next game would commence shortly, a 30 minute timer starting to tick down. His hand found yours, sensing your fear and panic that still lingered, thumb tracing comforting patterns across your palm.

“Morning.” You replied quietly. It was an improvement from the previous morning, when you hadn’t been able to speak at all. Right now, you just needed him to distract you. To help you forget what was about to happen. “Did you sleep ok?” He laughed lightly.

“I did, although I did get a shock this morning when I rolled over to see Jung-bae’s face instead of yours!” You laughed at that.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t sleep.” He just smiled, hand drifting to your face and tucking a stray hair behind your ear. You’d tied it up to sleep, but it had come loose, stands falling out and getting in your way. He seemed to notice, fingers lingering on the locks just a moment too long.

“Shall I braid it for you? Get it out of your way to help you focus today?” His voice was so genuine, so empathetic, you almost felt like you were going to cry.

“You can braid hair?” You asked, and he just gave you a look that seemed to say ‘really?’. “Right, 4 sisters.”

“Exactly. My sisters made me learn when I was young, and I used to braid their hair for pocket money, so I think that makes me a professional hair stylist, actually…” You giggled, heart warm. “Now spin around, lets see what we can do…”

It was exactly what you needed to distract you. When he was so close, it was the only thing you could think about - his hands gently running through your hair, his legs pressed firmly against your back, his breath fanning against your neck. And he was right; he was practically a professional. It was tight, but not too much to hurt. There were no flyaways, no annoying strands to get in your way. It was perfect.

He moved to sit in front of you once it was done, making a show of checking it like a real stylist would, making you laugh as he gently moved your head from side to side, hand lingering on your jaw.

“Beautiful…” he muttered, and you smiled warmly, gaze lingering on every detail of his face, committing it to memory. His puppy dog eyes, the curve of his lips, the slope of his nose. The comfort he brought you even during the darkest time of your life continued to surprise you, the sweetness and optimism you usually found irritating perfectly balancing out your pessimistic nature.

“Thank you.” You replied earnestly, and he leant forward, placing a quick kiss to your forehead as the speakers instructed you to line up in the centre of the room.

“Always.”

When you entered the game room, you didn’t know what to make of it. It was almost circular in shape, walls lined with multicoloured doors, and a large, carousel-like podium in the centre. The ceiling looked like a circus tent, swooping, striped curtains covered in lights that illuminated the whole space. Dae-ho’s hand reached out to yours instinctively, holding it tight as you were instructed to make your way onto the platform, and that you would be playing Mingle. You listened to the instructions as your team strategised, planning out the best combinations if different numbers were called out. You squeezed Dae-ho’s hand tighter, and your eyes met in a silent pact. No matter what was called, you would stick together.

Let the game begin.

The podium stuttered to life, spinning slowly as the room was filled with the sound of a childlike song, lights changing to the beat. Then, it stopped suddenly, lights darkening as the first number was called out.

You all looked around, trying to find more players to join your group, but Gi-hun was fastest, grabbing a hold of Player 120 and asking how many people were in her team. She answered 4, and you all looked around for another player, but it was chaos, everyone grabbing each other left right and centre and running into the multicoloured rooms. Player 120 spied someone, grabbing her, and you all ran to a green door, Dae-ho’s hand on the small of your back, guiding you as you sprinted as fast as you could. Young-il made it to the door first, holding it open and ushering everyone into the room, counting as he went, then closing the door behind you once everyone was safe. You took a second to breathe, heart racing, then you heard the gunshots. You flinched, and Dae-ho’s arm protectively wrapped around your shoulders, pulling your back close to his chest.

The shooting stopped, and the only thing that could be heard in the room was everyone’s heavy breathing, still in shock from what just happened.

“You’re alive thanks to me!” Player 044 exclaimed, her harsh, loud voice making you all jump. She walked up and down the room, looking at each of you with intensity. She paused at you and Dae-ho, glancing between your faces and his protective stance, a small smirk appearing on her face. You didn’t realise you were holding your breath until she moved away, sighing and glancing up at him in confusion.

“So, there’s a reason you’ve lived longer than you were destined to.” She spoke matter-of-factly, and you whipped your head around to see her directly addressing Gi-hun. “There’s a reason you were brought here.” Nobody spoke, confused and unnerved, ignoring her strange words and instead listening carefully as the intercom rattled off a list of eliminated players. Eventually, the door unlocked, and you headed back to the central platform, which was now painted with blood.

Dae-ho grabbed your hand as it started to spin again, now standing as a group of ten, waiting for the music to stop. It somehow still surprised you when it did, the motion of the carousel grinding to a halt almost knocking you over, and the speakers announced the number.

Your heart dropped. You’d have to split up, and if one of your group didn’t make it…

“You four, go, go…” Young-il said quickly, and before any of you had a chance to respond, he was lost in the chaos, shouting for three more players. You paused, trying to find him in the crowd, all of you frozen in shock, but Jung-bae snapped out of it first, grabbing Dae-ho’s arm and moving.

“We have no choice. Let’s go.” Dae-ho’s hand was tight around yours, dragging you to follow, and you grabbed a hold of Gi-hun, forcing him to move. You made it to a purple room, piling in quickly, but there were still 12 seconds on the clock, so Gi-hun stood in the doorway, eyes frantically scanning the crowd for any sign that Player 001 was safe.

“Do you think Young-il will be ok?” Dae-ho asked, voice shaking, and you squeezed his hand tighter, nodding furiously.

“He has to be.” Your voice was unwavering, but it was a front, your heart sinking further and further into your stomach as the time ticked down and Gi-hun still hadn’t caught a glimpse of him. As the clock hit 2 seconds, Jung-bae muttered his name quietly, pulling him inside, and shutting the door quickly. You heard it lock, and a deathly silence fell over the space. All you could do now was wait.

As the doors unlocked, you all hurried out, scanning the room and calling his name. You saw Player 120 and the rest of her team exit a room nearby, and you were relieved momentarily for them, making a mental note to stay near them the next round too.

“Gi-hun!” You heard a voice call behind you, and saw Young-il walking towards you all, a smile on his face. You breathed a huge sigh of relief, quickly moving towards him and giving him a big hug, so grateful that you were all still alive.

“I knew you were going to be ok!” Jung-bae exclaimed dramatically, patting him on the back as you released him. “I knew it! You’re not just anybody.” He laughed in response, grinning widely.

“I was worried.” Gi-hun said, looking at him intensely, tears in his eyes. “I’m glad you made it.”

“I’m a likeable guy, so I’m good at games like this.” He said lightly, but something in you thought he was downplaying it. Gi-hun was still yet to take his eyes off him, scanning him as though he had just woken up from a dream, coming to terms with the fact he was actually alive and well.

You stood together on the platform again, saying a quick hello and well done to Player 120 and her team. They were kind people, all expressing how glad they were that you were safe too, especially the older woman - Player 149 - who was arm in arm with her son. The music started once again, and you were more used to the movement. It stopped a lot quicker than you expected though, surprising you.

Fear flashed through you briefly, but there was also a clarity. A realisation. If that’s how terrified you had felt when Young-il wasn’t with you, how would you feel if you didn’t know Dae-ho was safe? If he couldn’t find a room in time? You swallowed, glancing at Gi-hun, but he was already looking at you. After your talk last night, you knew that he would understand the look in your eyes. I will not let any of them die for me to survive. I couldn’t live with myself. You nodded at each other silently in acknowledgement.

“Go.” You said firmly, and Dae-ho called your name, but you grabbed Gi-hun’s hand, quickly moving in the other direction with him to find a third player. You could hear his protests behind you as Jung-bae and Young-il dragged him towards a room, but you ignored them, tears in your eyes as you searched the crowd. You saw her at the same time; the mother, Player 149, frozen, staring at two other players who were forcefully dragging her son into a different room. You ran to her as fast as you could, Gi-hun just ahead, wrapping your arm around her tightly and forcing her to move as he went ahead and found a room for you. You made it with barely a second to spare, collapsing on the floor next to her in exhaustion.

“Are you alright?” Gi-hun asked her gently. She looked defeated, staring blankly at the wall, but she responded quickly as soon as she realised he was speaking to her.

“Oh. Oh, yes. Thank you. You two saved my life.”

“Not at all,” you replied, “you saved ours. I’m sorry you and your son got separated, but I saw him get into a room so at least you’re both ok.” She breathed a sigh of relief at that, grabbing your hand in both of hers.

“That’s wonderful, I didn’t quite see him get in so that’s such a relief. Thank you, thank you so much...”

As the door unlocked, you exited cautiously, scanning the room for the rest of your team.

“Mrs Jang!” You heard a voice cry out, and you watched with a smile as the two other members of her team ran up to greet her, enveloping her in a big hug.

“Goodness! I’m so glad you’re ok.” She exclaimed, holding them tight. You grabbed Gi-hun’s arm as you watched their reunion, touched. “You’re not hurt at all, are you?” She asked, looking over each of them closely as another player followed up behind them, and Player 120 gestured towards him.

“He saved our lives.”

“Mr. 246 here showed up when we were running out of time, just like Prince Charming!” He blushed and looked down as Player 095 spoke, a small smile on his face.

“Boy, you do look like a prince. Thank you so much!” Watching the interaction Mrs Jang had with her teammates was making you tear up a little. She viewed them as children, her love showing through in her actions so clearly.

“Not at all. These two saved my life.” Player 246 spoke up as she shook his hand warmly.

“Where’s Young-sik?” Player 120 asked, just noticing that she had been with you and Gi-hun rather than her son. But before she could answer, a quiet voice spoke up from just behind her.

“Mum…” He was frozen, breathing shaky, but she went up to him quickly, reassuring him as he broke down apologising. Player 120 asked what happened quietly, and you were in the middle of telling her when you heard a familiar voice call your name. You spun around to see Dae-ho nearly sprinting towards you, eyes red and bloodshot, scooping you up before you even had a second to register what was happening. His grip was vice-like, almost winding you as he held you flush to his body, burying his face in your neck. You wrapped your arms around his neck, hands finding purchase in his hair and running through it soothingly, a few tears falling with relief.

“It’s ok, I’m ok. We both made it.” You muttered as he pulled back slowly, eyes scanning you for any signs of injury, hands moving from your back up to hold your face gently. You sighed into his touch as he wiped the tears from your eyes, your own hands resting lightly on his chest.

“Why did you do that?” He whispered, voice broken and raw, and it shattered your heart, but at least he was alive.

“I couldn’t lose you. I needed to make sure you were safe. I’m sorry.” Your hands bunched up into fists, gripping his shirt tight as he moved closer to you, resting his forehead to yours in a promise.

“Stay with me next time. I can’t… you can’t just…” You interrupted his broken rambles.

“I promise.”

Your fingers were laced together tightly as the movement started again, deja-vu hitting you, and you couldn’t help but wonder how many rounds were left of this hell. It stopped quite quickly again, lights cutting out as panicked murmurs rose up all around you.

There were ten of you in your little group now, and you felt yourself start to panic.

“4 women, 2 men, go!” Gi-hun shouted quickly, and Jung-bae asked which 2 men, but before that question could be answered, Dae-ho and Young-sik gathered you up, quickly pushing you towards a door. The first one you opened was full, the team inside screaming at you to leave, but you heard Player 120 calling to say she had found an empty room. You and Dae-ho made it in first, closely followed Young-sik and his mum. You glanced back out through the open doorway, and could see the four you’d left behind grabbing two people and heading towards a room of their own. You breathed a sigh of relief, the time ticking fast, but Player 120 stopped, looking back at all of you.

“Where’s Young-mi?” She asked. She stepped out from the doorframe, wildly looking for her, but before she could go any further, a player you didn’t recognise shoved her hard, moving into the room and slamming the door just as the clock reached zero. Shock rippled through you, and the realisation hit that one of their own was still outside. Her face appeared outside the door, tears in her eyes, and Player 120 ran straight to her, saying her name over and over and frantically trying to open the door. Then you heard the gunshot.

When the doors unlocked, everyone was quiet and despondent. You’d lost someone. You felt sorry for her teammates, of course you did, but you couldn’t help but feel incredibly grateful that it wasn’t one of your own group. The player who had saved the rest of you was still trailing behind you, and you recognised him now as the guy who Young-il had saved on the first day - Myung-gi, or something like that. He already had a lot of enemies in here, and now he’d just gained one more.

The final round will now begin.

Dae-ho hadn’t once let go of your hand, and you were still standing side-by-side, arms pressed together. Myung-gi was standing just behind you awkwardly, trying to stay close to some people he knew, but keeping his distance from who he just betrayed.

“What do you think it will be this time?” Jung-bae asked nervously.

“Two.” Young-il replied, quick and definitive.

“Why?”

“There are 126 people left, and there are 50 rooms. So there won’t be enough rooms for everyone, only 100 hundred people. The rest will be killed.”

“If he’s right,” Dae-ho whispered, “the moment it’s announced we run straight forward to the first room we see, ok? No hesitating.”

“Ok.” You responded, gripping his hand tighter.

You didn’t stop for even a second, running straight past everybody else and towards the blue door ahead of you. He was faster than you, but only just, and his hand never left yours even though you were trailing behind. You made it to the door with time to spare, and you slammed it closed, throwing your bodies against it to prevent anyone from opening it before the time was up. You slid to the floor, using your feet to leverage your body weight, watching the time slowly tick and bracing for impact, but it never came.

The clock hit zero, and the door locked.

You immediately started crying, quickly moving from the door and throwing your arms around Dae-ho, hugging him tight as you waited for the guns to stop firing, so relieved that it was over. You sat back from him just slightly, hands finding purchase on his shoulders and listening carefully as they announced the eliminated players. You smiled widely when your team weren’t called, his hands finding grip on your forearms as he grinned back at you. You were inches away from each other now, your legs draped across his, exhausted breaths filling the space between you.

“We did it.” He whispered, hands moving to wipe your tears yet again. There was a tenderness in his eyes that was indescribable and warm, echoing your own feelings.

“Holy shit, we actually did it.” You laughed in disbelief. And in that moment, in your exhaustion and delirium, you couldn’t help yourself, hands gliding to the back of his neck and pressing your lips to his. It was brief, barely a kiss as you realised what you’d just done, letting him go and flushing bright red.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…” He cut you off by placing one finger across your lips gently. His hand moved to your chin, gently guiding you to face him. As soon as his eyes met yours, earnest and kind, you knew you hadn’t made a mistake. He kissed you then, slowly and tenderly. One hand wrapped around your waist to pull your body flush to his, and the other rested against your jaw, keeping you angled just how he wanted. Your hands settled in his hair, legs practically wrapped around his waist as you tried to get closer, needing more of him. All of him. You hummed against his lips in contentment, feeling him smile against you before pulling back for air. You were completely breathless, but your lips chased his regardless, and he laughed lightly.

“Beautiful, kind angel.” He whispered, pressing another feather light kiss to your lips. “We’re gonna make it out of here, you hear me? We’re going to get out, and I’m going to take you on a proper date.” You smiled, giddy at the feeling of his hand on your waist and his body against yours.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You pressed your lips to his again, earning a soft, affectionate groan. Then the door unlocked, and you sighed. You didn’t want to go out there, back to the other people, back to reality, back to the voting and games and politics of it all. You wanted to just stay in this tiny room until you could go home. But he moved first, giving you one last kiss before untangling his legs, quickly standing up before helping you. “Let’s go home.”

#kang dae ho x reader #dae ho x reader #squid game s2 #squid game #dae ho #kang dae ho #player 388 x reader #player 388 #taylor swift #the tortured poets department #i hate it here #fanfic #fanfiction

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pedropascallme · 2 days ago

Text

Teach Me Something

Pairing: König x f!Reader

Summary: “But the thermal wear was tight, hugging your body and intensifying your silhouette. Maybe it could be considered sexy; maybe part of you hoped that König would think so.”

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI!!!!) p in v sex, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), face fucking, forced proximity, size kink, mentions of overstimulation, use of honorifics (“Colonel”) in a sexual scenario, dom/sub dynamics, dom!König but he's pathetically needy, rough sex, dirty talk (a lot of it is in German), creampie, implication of cumplay, if I missed anything please let me know!!

AN: One bed trope CAUSE I CAN. Also I don't speak German, so if you do speak German and this sounds like absolute gibberish to you, I'm sorry in advance <3

What had seemed like a promising respite from such a drawn-out mission had swiftly proven to be less than liberating and more of a tease.

On the outside, the safehouse looked like a cabin out of a Christmas movie—something cheesy and re-watchable that you might put on around the holidays as background noise. Sturdy, light wood, powdered with snow.

It didn't look out of place in the forested locale, and anybody passing through would likely think it was a fixture of the area; a quaint vacation home to a little nuclear family.

But on the inside, it was absolutely barebones, and that was putting it lightly.

A raw sort of cold crept in through cracks, and the breeze inched over the thick layers of dust on every surface. It looked like you and König would be the first people to use it in months, if not years.

The chill was uncomfortable, and while the fireplace would've been a delightful way to quell the chatter of your teeth, you knew you couldn't use it—smoke from the chimney could alert anybody of your whereabouts, and the last thing you wanted right now was more practice in self-defense.

There was a small armchair pushed into one corner, and the green velvet faded on the back to reveal frayed weaving. One single bed was pushed to the far side of the tiny room, seemingly frozen in time, and you wondered if the blankets would even peel back from the mattress.

The only source of light was a standing lamp, and when you yanked the cord, it flickered piteously.

Instructions had been clear, and you knew you'd only be here for a night before you had to keep moving, but you couldn't help but huff at the state of the cabin when you had spent all day on the move.

König walked in behind you with a huff; he hated snow, and he abhorred waiting in a safehouse like a sitting duck all the more.

“Mein Gott…” He shook his head, shivering dramatically.

“It’s just a little snow, Colonel.”

You could’ve laughed at the display. You knew he was overreacting; he tended to, and a man of his size couldn’t get cold very easily.

“We will freeze before evacuation, maus.” He grumbled, closing the door with a grunt.

“You’ll live.” You cooed, smiling.

You wouldn't go as far as calling him your friend, but König was certainly a welcome presence despite his intimidating demeanor. He was clever, and an effective soldier; a generally amiable person when he was in the right mood.

And it helped that he was nice to look at.

You appreciated that he actually spoke during operations. Some people—especially superior officers, you'd found—preferred to stay stoic and silent, even at the best of times. But König was chatty, in his own right.

It was clear that he liked the sound of his own voice, but you didn't mind; he could be funny, a refreshing source of entertainment on and off the field. His thick accent and less than stellar pronunciations often led to even more amusement in conversations with him.

He never spoke about himself—you didn't even think König was his real name; you knew it probably wasn’t. But it was the name he responded to, and it was the one you mumbled when thoughts of him forced their way to the front of your mind as you pressed down just right on your clit.

You made your way to the derelict bed, unhooking your chest rig and tossing it onto the mattress. You half expected the frame to collapse, but it was a pleasant surprise when all you got was a quiet squeak from the bedsprings.

“What are you doing?” König watched intently as you lay your belongings out.

“Putting my stuff down.” You looked at him over your shoulder, quirking a brow.

“On the bed.” He was just voicing what he saw, but you knew he had ulterior motives.

“Didn’t see your name on it,” you turned to face him properly, eying him where he leaned against the door. “Take the chair.” You nodded at the armchair in the opposite corner of the room.

König scoffed softly.

“You are joking?”

“Or you could take the floor,” you couldn’t help but smile; you enjoyed riling him up. “Plenty of room for you to stretch out.”

He shook his head, and you watched his eyes narrow behind the mask.

“No. You are smaller than me. You sleep in the chair; I have the bed.” He said it with a sense of finality, reminding you that he was, in fact, in charge.

“That’s not fair.” You argued, crossing your arms.

“You wanted me to sleep on the floor,” he pushed himself off the wall and took a step closer to you, “I am being kind.”

“You’re not,” you scowled, “Not at all gentlemanly, either.”

He chuckled, tilting his head to the side.

“If you will make such a fuss, we will sleep in the bed together, Kleine.”

“Seriously?” You balked at his words, caught off guard.

“Is it a bad idea?” It was almost as if he was goading you; toeing the line to see if you’d agree or if you’d back down.

It wasn’t uncharacteristic of him; he enjoyed teasing you as much as you enjoyed teasing him. He liked to see how hard he could push you when you were deployed together. It brought him a sort of contentment to see you squirm.

It was innocent, as far as you were concerned, and he knew he had the power to do it.

“No…” you decided not to bow to his prodding. “I just—are we allowed to…I mean, I’m fine with it, if you’re fine with it.”

You practically scoffed, uncrossing your arms and gesturing vaguely.

“I just…yeah. No—yeah, that’s a—…let’s just share,” you nodded, trying to reason aloud as you made your decision. “Better for…body heat.”

He nodded, and you were certain he was smiling beneath his mask.

You grabbed your chest rig from the bed and tossed it onto the armchair. Slowly, you began peeling off your kit. The thermal under layer of your uniform was perfect for sleep, and you weren’t about to crawl into bed with the military-grade fabric still on.

But the thermal wear was tight, hugging your body and intensifying your silhouette. Maybe it could be considered sexy; maybe part of you hoped that König would think so.

You shoved your clothes onto the chair with your chest rig, turning back to face the bed.

König had already prepared himself for bed, and you were nearly startled when you looked up to see his mask gone.

It was a rarity; he wore it 90% of the time, probably more as an intimidation tactic, but you also assumed it was a comfort thing.

The more shocking revelation was that he’d stripped down completely, forgoing even the thermals, as he sat on the edge of the bed in just his boxers.

“Not gonna get cold?” You quirked a brow, not at all unsatisfied by the unobstructed view of his form, but still a bit taken aback.

“It is nice in here,” he sighed, rolling his shoulders before rubbing a hand over his chest. “And your body will be warm.”

His phrasing made you roll your eyes, but you smiled just a little.

“Alright, Colonel,” you shook your head, “Sure.”

You ambled over to the bed, pulling the blanket back and frowning when you realized how thin the material was. But you situated yourself beneath it all the same, lying on your side and eager to curl up and allow yourself to get some rest.

When König maneuvered himself beneath the blanket next to you, you threw a look over your shoulder at him.

“No funny shit,” you glared, though it was playful, “Hands to yourself, or I’ll cut them off.”

König laughed lightly, folding his arms over his chest.

“I will not touch you, Kleine.” He was amused by your threat, but humored you.

“Good answer.” You settled back onto your side.

You found yourself unable to relax.

The room hadn’t warmed up in the short time you’d been inside, and you couldn’t seem to garner the warmth to get comfortable enough to fall asleep. The thermal clothing wasn’t doing much, and the wind howling against the wood of the cabin put you on edge.

If you were less proud, you might have pushed yourself up against König in search of warmth and comfort. Instead, you let yourself continue to shiver, huffing softly.

But your exasperated sigh turned into more of a stunned gasp when you felt König reach out for you, tugging you into him until your back pressed against his chest.

“Said hands to yourself.” You mumbled, though the relief was immediate. The warmth of his body permeated the thermal shirt you donned and sept into your skin.

“Sh,” he splayed his hand against your stomach. “Dir ist kalt.”

“I’m not cold. I’m…” You tried to think of a valid argument, “I’m not cold.”

He grunted, a wordless response of disbelief.

The room fell quiet again, and you stayed pressed against his body. Part of you was tempted to grab his hand, lace your fingers with his and lean into the situation. But you stayed still and just appreciated the position you’d been pulled into.

“You understand me often now,” König’s voice broke through the silence. “You did not know German like this before.”

“Hard not to pick up on bits and pieces,” you were whispering, but you weren’t sure why. “Most of what you say over comms is German.”

“You are learning, maus,” he seemed pleased, his thumb brushing over your stomach. “Tell me.”

“I know that maus means mouse,” your voice picked up a bit, eager to share the small amount of German you had learned. “Was war das means what was that. Schnell is quickly, ich weiß is I know.”

You paused, thinking for a moment before you continued.

“Verdammt is damn it, and geh zum Teufel means go to hell. I think.”

He let out a small laugh behind you, and you felt his chest move against your back.

“Gut.” Though you couldn’t see it, you could hear the motion of his head against the pillow as he nodded.

You found the confidence to turn over, adjusting yourself enough to face him while staying pressed to his chest.

“Will you teach me more?” You asked, sincerely curious about the other phrases you'd heard him use.

He smiled. “What do you want to know, maus?”

“Will you…” you smirked, thinking, “Will you teach me more curses?”

“Girl after my heart,” he chuckled, running his hand over your back in an oddly docile gesture. “Ja, I will show you.”

He thought for a moment, squinting into the dark of the room as he considered where to begin.

“Em…to call someone’s mother a whore: huresohn.”

“Starting strong.” You laughed, chancing a glance at him.

“There are no weak curses in German.” He smiled down at you. “Scheiße is shit.”

“I know that one.” You yawned, placing an open palm on his chest.

“Fine, then, you are so proud of your skill; Weißt du was Schlampe ist?” He quirked a brow at you, smug.

“You’re going too fast—” you complained, pushing against his chest. “Do I know what what is?”

“Keep up, Kleine.”

“Kleine means small.”

“No—” He furrowed his brow, “Ja, it does, but also ‘little one.’”

You paused, looking up at him again.

“Little one?” You asked, echoing his words.

“Ja.” He nodded, sighing softly.

“Colonel, when you say things like that, I’m almost convinced you have a soft spot for me.” You smiled, putting your other hand on his chest and playfully pushing against him a bit harder.

“Vielleicht,” he moved to place his free hand over one of yours as you pushed him. “Ja.”

There was a pause, both of you taking a moment to stew in the silence and the feeling of each other.

“König…” You were whispering again, staring at how his hand dwarfed your own.

He looked down at you expectantly.

“I have—…I want to know one more thing.” You shuffled up the bed slightly, trying to position yourself to match his eyeline.

“Ok,” he nodded, now moving his hand to toy with a loose strand of your hair. “What?”

“How do you say…”

You could feel yourself shiver, but it had nothing to do with the cold, which you had long forgotten. You worried about overstepping, about saying the wrong thing and making the situation awkward and uncomfortable.

“How do you ask someone to—to kiss you?” You asked anyway.

You saw a flash of something in his eyes.

He paused, tucking your hair behind your ear and letting his fingers trace down your jawline until he could hook a finger under your chin.

“Küss mich.” He scanned your features, watching for a response.

“Küss mich…” You stared back at him, your lips parted.

You felt dazed, but it wasn’t unwelcome; there was a heat in your lower stomach, and it grew with every twitch of his fingers against your skin and with every word he spoke.

“Braves Mädchen.” His words were muttered as he leaned into you, capturing your lips with his and kissing you.

You squeaked, clawing at his chest before slowly reaching around him to pull him closer by the nape of his neck. You could feel his pulse, the quick thrum of his heart pushing against his skin almost as intensely as your own.

The kiss was covetous. He wasted no time pushing his tongue into your mouth, eager to taste every part of you; and you were eager to let him. You cupped the back of his head, pulling him into you, and he perched his hands on your waist, manipulating your body slowly until you were on top of him.

The position was awkward, but you could hardly notice when you were so focused on him. His touch was so warm, and you felt yourself melting beneath his palms; your skin was on fire, but it was a happily received blaze.

The chill of the room that had crept into your bones was long gone, replaced by the heat of his grip on your body.

You trailed your hands over him, taking in the feel of his skin beneath your fingertips. He was so large, muscular in a comforting way, and you whimpered softly against his lips when he gave your hip a squeeze.

“So long,” König mumbled against your jaw, “Have waited so long.”

“For this?” You breathed, closing your eyes and losing yourself in the way his hands trailed over you.

“For you.” He growled, pressing kisses to your throat.

You giggled at the feeling, his lips tickling your pulse point, but he didn’t stop—if anything, it just spurred him on.

“Liebling,” he spoke against the sensitive skin of your neck, “Meine Kleine. Do you know how you tease?”

“I d—I don’t tease, Colonel.” You moaned when he sucked a bruise into your neck.

“You are doing it now,” he tsked, “Telling me no hands—if that is what you want, shall I stop, ja?”

“No...” You whined; the thought of him removing himself from you now was deeply upsetting.

König huffed a laugh against your throat, straightening back up to meet your gaze again.

“Always teasing,” he reiterated as he brought his hand to your face, forcing you to keep your eyes on him. “In these silly clothes when I invite you to bed with me.”

“Off—” Your plea came out rushed and unfinished, “Take them off, then.”

He laughed louder now, pleased by your zeal.

“Greedy maus,” he ran his thumb over your cheek, “Move, then—I will help.”

You scrambled to push yourself off of him, sitting up and waiting to see what he’d do—whether you’d be faced with further instructions, or if he’d simply take the opportunity to strip you as you’d asked him to.

He sat up with you, studying you as you clamored to kneel next to him on the mattress.

“Come.” He beckoned you, and you shuffled forward until your face was mere inches from his.

He caressed your sides, and despite the gentle, chaste nature of the touch, you whimpered softly. König curled his fingers beneath the hem of your shirt, tugging it over your head slowly—almost teasingly, as he exposed your top half.

It wasn’t out of any urge to taunt you, he was just so thrilled to be able to see you bare yourself to him; to scan every inch of your flesh.

He tossed the shirt to the side, and you made a mental note to grab it later so you didn’t leave without it.

“Back,” he instructed, pressing on your shoulder to encourage you to lie down, and you obliged happily. “Raise your hips, Kleine.”

You pushed yourself off the mattress awkwardly, trying to give him the space he needed to strip you of the final bits of fabric.

He hooked his fingers under the waistband of your thermals, huffing impatiently when he realized that you had underwear on beneath the thermal layer. But he chuckled as he peeled both articles of clothing down your legs, and you let out a quiet gasp as the cool air of the room hit your core.

“So eager,” he tutted, tossing your bottoms in the same direction he’d thrown your top. “Just a touch. You are so easy to please.”

“Shut up…” You muttered, turning your head to the side to hide your satisfaction.

He grunted, bringing his hand to your face and squeezing your cheeks as he moved your head to look up at him again.

“Cruel girl—this is no way to talk to your Colonel.” The cold blue of his eyes somehow seemed to turn red hot; demanding and predatory.

“König—” you stuttered, “Colonel. Please.”

“What would you like, Kleine?” He kept his hand on your face, enjoying the way his palm swallowed you. “Be honest.”

“Fuck me,” you breathed, “Want you to fuck me.”

Upon hearing your words, he laughed, removing his hand from your face and trailing it over your exposed breasts.

“Fuck you? Already?” He kneaded the plush flesh of your chest. “We will be here all night, meine Liebe—I want to enjoy you.”

“Now you’re teasing.” You whined, arching your body into his touch.

“No,” he shook his head with a smirk, his eyes never leaving your chest as he groped you. “I will make you feel nice.”

With that, he leaned over you. His tongue followed a messy trail over your tits; circling your nipples before pressing his lips against the pillowy skin to suck deep marks into you. He treated it like a game—a meal, even, as he nipped at you, learning and memorizing what would make you squirm beneath him.

When he grazed his teeth over your nipple, you let out a sharp moan, reaching down to press his face further into your chest.

“No hands.” He mumbled into your skin, and you sighed dreamily.

“Think we’re past that…” You let your other hand wander over his shoulder blade.

“We are not,” he pushed himself off of you, forcing your hands away as he rose. He found enough balance to grab both your wrists, pressing them into the pillow on either side of your head. “You must listen when I say these things, Kleine.”

You whimpered, nodding an affirmative.

“Do you understand?” He looked down at you, “You will tell me. Speak.”

“Yes,” you nodded again, swallowing. “I understand, Colonel.”

He let go of your wrists, and his chest heaved; with lust or pride, you couldn’t tell, but it was likely a combination of both.

As he pushed himself down the bed, he couldn’t seem to separate himself from your body; pressing his face, his lips, into your skin; murmuring against you as if he wanted your bones to hear the filth that fell from his mouth.

“Such a pretty girl,” he mouthed just beneath your navel, “Finally behaved.”

You bucked your hips, trying to encourage him to bring his mouth down to where you needed it most. But he bypassed your cunt completely, situating himself between your legs and biting at your thighs, only eyeing your core.

“Maus…” He sighed the petname, pressing kisses to your inner thigh before finally releasing his grasp on your leg. “So wet from kisses?”

He leaned forward, as if to drown his senses in you; your scent and your image, he wanted to appreciate it fully.

“Pathetic, a bit, mm?” He swiped a finger through your folds, collecting your slick, and you whimpered. “So desperate, to drip like this…”

“König,” you were whispering, afraid to warp the charged atmosphere. “You can do anything; just do something.”

He laughed at that, basking in the pleas you directed towards him as he removed his hand from your cunt and pressed a kiss to your clit.

“Schlampe.”

He buried his face against you, pushing his tongue into your entrance and lapping up the slick that dripped from your core.

You moaned, raising your hips off the mattress in an effort to find even more friction. König pressed down on your hips, effectively pinning you to the bed; holding you captive with his grasp and the movement of his mouth.

“Sweet engel,” he moaned against your cunt, “You taste like heaven, Kleine.”

“Fuck—” His actions were one thing, but his words hit you hard; it felt like forever since you’d been with someone who showed so much enthusiasm.

His gruff moans as he lapped you up only served to push you further towards the precipice of total pleasure, and you could feel yourself teetering over the edge already.

“You are so excited, Liebling,” König groaned bringing a hand up to press two thick fingers against your entrance. “Wetting my face this way, but still too tight for my hand.”

He began to nudge your hole, letting his fingers circle your entrance before sinking into you. He went as far as the first knuckle before stopping.

“Scheiße,” he cursed as he watched your cunt struggle around his fingers, “How will you take my cock, Kleine?”

You whimpered at the way his fingers stretched you; penetrating you shallowly, but enough to make you feel so full.

“You can—I’ll—I can take it,” you stammered, “Please, Colonel, make me take it.”

“Bitte…” König’s moan neared a whimper, pushing his fingers deeper into you. He bucked his hips against the mattress in response to your words and the filthy squelch of your cunt around his hand. “Whatever it is you want, maus, I will do for you.”

“More,” you begged softly, “Want more.”

He smirked, more to himself than to you, and continued his ministrations.

He wrapped his lips around your clit, flicking his tongue over you as he fucked you with his fingers. Whenever he heard you let out a soft gasp, he increased his pace.

“Probably one more can fit,” he spoke against your pubic mound, his lips finding purchase on your body again and exploring more of you with his tongue as he threatened your entrance with another finger. “Ja, Kleine?”

“Yes—another one.” You were so hot, maybe even sweating as he worked you open, but the flush of your skin did nothing to discourage you from whimpering for his hand.

He pushed a third finger into you, and the stretch made your body contort; your back arched and your legs tensed. The pads of his fingers danced over your most delicate spot as he thrust them in and out of you.

The pressure in your abdomen was immense, but damn, if it didn’t feel amazing.

And he was thrilled by you. Every sound you made and every clench of your walls around him made König feel lightheaded, grinding himself down against the bed just for a moment of relief; imagining the pure bliss that would be getting to bury himself inside of you.

He could feel his boxers growing damp, the tip of his cock crying for you, just as you cried out for him.

“Little thing, so tight,” he was moaning, his sounds almost as eager as your own as he lay his head on your thigh to watch his fingers work you open. “Verdammt, Schatz—bitte, bitte, cum on my hand like this.”

He dipped his head down to lick the slick that coated his fingers, gradually moving his tongue so that it dragged over his fingers and up to your clit. He sucked the bud between his lips, and you white-knuckled the pillow beneath your head with both hands, the pleasure overwhelming to the point that it was almost too much.

You came with a cry of his name, just as you always did; but this time he was there with you to hear it; this time he was the one manipulating you to feel the rush of ecstasy.

“Hübsche Hure…” König continued to push his fingers in and out of you, determined to push you to the brink and see just how much you could take as your legs trembled from the overstimulation. “So good for your Colonel. So good to let me prepare you.”

You keened under his praise, your eyelids heavy. When he removed his fingers from you, you regained your senses as the pleasure that had wound itself so tightly around your muscles began to dissipate, leaving you in a hazy state of fucked-out bliss and feeling empty.

You reached down to brush your knuckles over his cheek, and he closed his eyes when your hand made contact with him, still resting on your thigh.

“You will look so pretty wrapped around me, Liebling.” He murmured, turning his face and kissing your hand.

He’d seemed to have forgotten about his previous request that you keep your hands to yourself—that, or he was too drunk off of you to care, content with the domestic gesture of your fingers trailing over his skin.

“Show me,” you whispered, the dull ache his fingers had left in your core swelled at his words, and you found yourself squeezing your thighs together in anticipation. “I want more.”

“Eine Schlampe tut es immer,” he muttered. He moved to lick up your thigh, savoring the slick that had gathered there to make your skin shiny and syrupy. “You will stay like that.”

You nodded, watching him perch himself on the edge of the bed before he stood.

You almost felt like you should avert your gaze; he fiddled with the waistband of his boxers, and you noticed the slick spot on the fabric that highlighted his need for you. It flooded you with a new wave of arousal—to want and to be wanted was such a tremendous thing.

But it was when he removed his boxers that you felt your breath hitch, eyes widening slightly in an almost comic way before you turned your head to stare up at the ceiling.

You had figured his mentions of readying you were just rooted in König being typically boastful. But the image of his cock, hard and weeping and big, as it sprung free from the confines of his boxers made you recognize that his preparatory measures were warranted.

Your mouth watered, but you maintained your gaze on the ceiling.

“Look,” König approached the edge of the bed, “Look at me, Kleine.”

You didn’t really need to be told twice, shifting onto your side to admire him; big might’ve been an understatement, and your lips parted as you lay still, just staring.

“Touch.” The harshness in his voice as he delivered the command was undercut by the tender way he reached for your hand and guided it to his cock.

You wrapped your fingers around the base, and König let out a short sound of approval. It made you feel powerful, to have a man like him by the cock, to be forcing such sweet noises up from his chest.

But mostly it just made you want even more.

“Bitte,” he bucked his hips leisurely into your hand, your dry palm creating the friction he’d been chasing, “Your mouth, engel. Taste.”

You hummed at his request, leaning forward to lick circles over the head of his cock. The sound that came from his throat was choked, stifled as best he could manage when you took the tip beyond your lips and hollowed your cheeks.

“Oh—Gott,” he tilted his head back, eyes closing as he relished the way you wrapped your lips around him. “Perfekter kleiner mund.”

You couldn’t tell exactly what he was saying, but you knew enough to know that he liked what you were doing, and it spurred you on.

You leaned further into him, trying your best to take more of him into your mouth and down your throat. A bit less than halfway down his shaft, you found yourself gagging; spluttering around him as you jerked the rest of his length in your hand. He grunted out a curse, bringing a hand to your hair and tugging gently at your roots.

“Very nice, maus,” he groaned when you glanced up at him, lips still wrapped around his cock, choking on him. “Take it deeper.”

You lifted yourself off of him, drooling.

“Too much…” You croaked out, “Too—too big. I can’t.”

It felt so conformist to say; expected, like an actress in a porno, faking it for the camera. And despite the fact that the words that left your mouth seemed almost cringeworthy, what you said was true: there was no way you'd be able to manage taking all of him.

But you loved a challenge.

“I was not asking,” he tsked, tightening his grip on your hair and earning a moan that traveled from your mouth in a breathy puff. “Put your mouth back. I will help.”

You whimpered, rubbing your thighs together as you lowered yourself back onto his cock and wrapped your lips around him. His authoritative nature on the field was always more attractive than it should’ve been, but this took the cake.

König fucked into your mouth like it was a toy, guiding you up and down over his cock, using your hair like a handle as he pulled you over his length.

You choked, spit and tears mingling on your face and dripping down his length, and he seemed to enjoy the sight as much as you enjoyed the feeling; his moans grew louder, the image of you helpless under his grasp getting him off in equal measure as the feeling of your mouth on his stiff cock.

He pulled you off abruptly, removing his grip from your hair and trailing his hand from behind your head to perch on your cheek. He wiped stray tears from your face with his thumb.

“I will cum if we keep playing this way, Kleine,” he panted, “And I would rather fill your cunt.”

You moaned wantonly at his words alone; he spoke so plainly, clear about his intentions, and you whimpered at the notion of having him spill inside of you.

“Fuck me, then,” you sighed, using the back of your hand to wipe your mouth. You took on a playful cadence, “Don’t keep me waiting, König.”

“Not waiting,” he shook his head, grabbing you by the chin and forcing your eyes on him. “Preparing.”

“Show me what you were preparing me for, Colonel.” You smirked, watching his face contort in arousal and a smug sense of assuredness.

He didn’t hesitate to climb onto the bed and hover over you, pressing a kiss to your chest just above your breasts before settling between your legs.

“You are impatient,” he muttered, “I only wanted to make you comfortable, Liebling.”

He held your hip in a vice grip, tugging you down the bed a bit to line himself up with you.

“No complaints when you are given what you have begged for.” He looked down at you, under obvious strain from his desire; his eyes had grown shadowy to the point of turning gray in the dim light of the room.

He ran his cockhead through your folds, grunting at the feeling of your slick mingling with the spit you had left coating his cock. He pushed his hips further, breaching your entrance with a groan.

Your hips moved on their own accord, rising to meet him, as you mewled.

“Ja, gut,” he moaned, “You need more—you need it all.” König kept his eyes glued on your cunt, watching his cock disappear into you.

He was growing impatient, sinking into you slowly had him gritting his teeth and breathing hard. You, too, felt restless at the pace; you could feel the stretch so viscerally, the pressure of his cock against your walls, the pain that faded into pleasure, and you craved more—you craved everything he had to give you. All of it.

“König,” you whined beneath him, squirming slightly, “Give it to me—I won’t break.”

“And if I want you to?” He queried, his voice low and wolfish.

You whimpered. It wasn’t often you felt vulnerable; guns strapped to your hip and a legion of other soldiers behind you. But now you felt exposed, prey waiting for the final act, and you relished in it.

“Do it.” You begged, waiting to see what he would do with the permission you gave him.

You didn’t have to wait long; König thrust his hips forward until they pressed against your own. He bottomed out with a whine, knocking the air from your lungs.

You cried out, full and stretched in such a foreign way. But you wrapped your legs around his hips as you writhed beneath him, locked in a battle with your pleasure.

“So tight,” he was panting, whimpering; six-foot-ten and easily 200 pounds heavier than you, and all it took for König to completely lose his edge was the feeling of your cunt wrapped so deliciously around him. “You—Scheiße, you are swollen with me.”

He traced a hand over your stomach, pressing against the bulge his cock produced, and you moaned at the sinful gesture.

He was just as overcome with lust, entranced by the image of your body squeezing around him, opening for him like a toy. He seemed so content to simply look and feel for a moment, but you grew impatient.

“König…” You pressed your heel against his back, trying to express your urgent need for him to move, to speak—to do anything that would let the pleasure spring free from the coil that had begun to tighten itself so harshly in your abdomen.

He swallowed, nodding in a manner that made it seem as though your words had brought him back down to earth. He pulled out of you slowly, hesitant to leave the warmth of your cunt, and you whimpered; you could feel every vein, and the round head of his cock dragged against your walls to further overstimulate your core. You bucked your hips, chasing the feeling.

“Oh, meine Liebling,” he shuddered, “Du willst es verdammt nochmal, eh?” He rumbled, drawing his hips back until the tip of his cock just barely penetrated you. “I will give it to you, Kleine.”

He pushed himself back into you just as harshly as he had the first time, and again you screamed for him, grabbing at his forearms and clawing at his skin in an attempt to ground yourself before the bliss became too much for you to handle.

“You want to break?” He muttered in your ear, his labored breaths fanning the side of your face, “Then you will break.”

“It—oh my god, König, please—” You pushed your head back against the pillows, angling your body closer to his to allow him free reign over you. “Fuck, it’s so much—so fucking—please.”

“Was willst du, Kleine?” He cooed, licking over of your collar bone, “You would like more?”

“M—more,” you managed, “Yes. More.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, groaning at your stammered pleas, and he was more than willing to deliver.

He straightened up, grabbing you by the hips and practically hauling your bottom half up like you were a ragdoll; you whined, loosening your legs around his waist as he was clearly able to support you on his own.

He fucked into you like a toy, like your body was for him and him alone to use in whatever manner pleased him, and you relished in the control he exhibited over you.

“Tiefer,” he grit his teeth as he forced himself into you roughly, “You are easy to use this way, schlampe—so beautiful. Take all of my cock, engel, be good for your Colonel.”

You couldn’t form a coherent thought, let alone a verbal reply. You stared up at him with lust-blown eyes, expressing your feelings through heady moans as he pushed the air from you.

You couldn’t help the way your hand meandered from its spot beside your head, leaving its home in the fabric of the pillow to trail down your body so that you could brush your fingers over your clit while König ravished you. You just needed that little push, the outer stimulation to match what he offered you, so that you could free-fall into satisfaction.

And perhaps he’d changed his mind about disallowing you to touch—he hadn’t disputed the way you’d grabbed at his arms when he’d sunk into you. Besides, he seemed too focused on your cunt to worry about any previous demands. Either way, there was only one sure-fire method to find out.

But König wasn’t pleased by the initiative you took. He dropped you, pressing one hand roughly against your hip bone to keep you still as his other hand flew to your wrist.

You yelped at the suddenness, but you’d be lying if you said it hadn’t been the reaction you’d wanted.

He stared, almost in shock, at your hand, your fingers still grazing your clit, before practically throwing your arm back to your side and leaning over you, looming.

“No hands,” he pressed his body against yours, engulfing you, “You have not listened, Kleine.” He thrust shallowly into you, not able to stop himself from appreciating the way you felt on his cock despite his urgency in chastising you.

“I thought—” you searched for an excuse, “Thought you wouldn’t mind.”

He chuckled lowly, glaring in a manner that seemed to border on tender.

“I think you are lying,” he accused, “I think you enjoy being treated like this. You are testing me, schlampe.”

You let out a shaky, needy breath in response to his assertion.

“I’m sorry, Colonel.” You mewled, moving to clasp your hands behind your head in an attempt to show him you had seen the error of your ways.

“I do not want your apology,” he grunted, his thrusts increasing in pace suddenly as he planted his hands on either side of you. “I want your pleasure.” He smiled down at you, leering at the way your face contorted in tandem with the way your body contorted to allow the intrusion of his cock. “I would like to feel it.”

He moved to rest on one forearm above you, his free arm snaking between your bodies to replace your hand with his own on your clit.

His fingers were so much bigger than yours, and he was somewhat clumsy as he rubbed circles over you. But the pressure was exquisite all the same, and he pulled new sounds from you that rose from your chest in appreciation of the friction he was granting you.

“Bitte,” he had once again begun speaking through whines, “Bitte, meine Liebe, let me feel how your cunt squeezes. Wet me with your cum—bitte.”

His broken requests, intercut with guttural grunts and whimpered groans, flooded you with heat. He pressed down on your clit right as he pushed his cock deep into you, lifting his hips upward to create an angle that allowed him to press against your most delicate spot.

You tried to stifle the sound that flew from your throat, and found yourself screaming silently into the room as you came.

“O—oh, bitte,” König’s hips stuttered against you, his head falling back as he reeled from the impact your orgasm had on him. “Ja, I—oh, bitte, bitte—”

He let himself fall forward, crushing you under his frame—though the weight of his body was comforting as you trembled through the aftershocks of your high. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, moaning wantonly as he approached his own release.

“Engel, meine Kleine—perfektes Mädchen,” he was only partially coherent as he licked a stripe up your throat. “I—I will fill you, ja? Bitte, would you let me fill you this way?”

“Please, König,” you breathed, overjoyed by the promise of being able to feel his cum leak from your spent cunt. “Cum in me, I want it—I want it, Colonel, please.”

He growled, reaching his tipping point upon hearing your words, beautiful sounds of approval falling from your lips as you expressed your eagerness at the prospect of him finishing inside your perfect cunt.

He came with a loud moan, guttural and sourced from his chest; his hips stuttered erratically against you as he let your cunt milk him.

You whimpered beneath him, accepting the warmth of his spend as it painted your walls.

He stayed on top of you, both of you taking a moment to recalibrate and catch your breath. When your pulse settled, you took the chance and wrapped an arm around him, trailing your fingers in vague patterns over his shoulder blade.

“König,” you whispered, voice hoarse, “You’re a great Colonel, but you’re a fantastic lay.”

He rested his chin on your chest, staring up at you. He seemed to translate your words at a much slower speed than he normally would.

He shot you a smug look when it finally clicked.

“I am glad I meet your standards,” he sighed, pressing his cheek into your skin and letting the sweat that beaded over you cool his face. “Are you tired, maus?”

“Yeah.” You couldn’t have lied even if you wanted to; your muscles felt loose, and your body sunk into the suddenly cozy mattress.

“Sleep.” He shuffled down your body, maneuvering one of your legs over his shoulders and slotting his face between your thighs.

“What are you doing?” You smiled down at him, and he looked back at you with bright, eager eyes.

“I would like to clean the mess I made.” He replied in a tone that made it seem as though his plan should have been obvious to you.

You hummed, squeezing his head lightly with your thighs.

“Mm...so the mask is really just a muzzle, hm?” You mused.

“We will be here all night,” König smiled, nipping at your thigh as he reiterated his earlier words. “I want to enjoy you.”

☆Like my work? Buy me a ko-fi :)☆

#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #call of duty fic #call of duty smut #cod #cod smut #cod fanfic #colonel könig #konig #konig cod #konig call of duty #konig x reader #konig x you #konig fanfiction #konig smut

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wandaslittlebird · 3 days ago

Text

A Room of Your Own

Married!WandaNat x Reader

Summary: After getting kicked out of your college dorm, you find yourself living with two older strangers. It was never meant to be anything more than a temporary arrangement born out of necessity, but as the semester continues, something new starts to grow.

CW: Homophobia, Getting Kicked Out, Slow Burn (No sex or romance in this chapter), Age Gap

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: I’m back from the dead, though probably not in the way you wanted or expected. I had to take a (not so) little break from one-shots and smut for the time being for some personal reasons. But I’m still finding ways to write and enjoy myself. Some of you probably have already seen this. It’s been up on AO3 for a while now. But I figured I’d post it here too.

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing any sort of slow burn, so we'll see if I can resist having them all fall into bed together in the first few chapters. I also don't know how to write an introductory chapter without making it boring as shit, so I at least made it short to spare you all. I promise it gets better.

Chapter 1 of A Room of Your Own

———————————————————

You sat, knees curled to your chest, on the curb in front of what used to be your dorm. It was late, a little after midnight, and absolutely pouring rain.

Three days. You had been in the dorms for three days and you had already been kicked out. You’d expect some pushback, going to a religious college and being queer, but nothing like this. Nothing like getting kicked out of your dorm in the middle of the night because you were making your roommates uncomfortable. You’d tried so hard to get them to like you. They seemed sweet. Not your type of people, sure, but you thought the three of you could get along just fine.

As it turns out, they were actually so repulsed by your presence they couldn’t even wait until classes started to kick you to the curb. Literally.

“Hey!” Somebody shouted from the doorway, holding a large umbrella. You turned to see her approaching and shrunk back in on yourself. You didn’t think you could handle anymore ridicule that evening.

When you didn’t respond or turn to face her, she sat down next to you, sure to cover you with the umbrella as well. She spoke softer now. “Hey. I’m sorry for what happened back there.”

You still didn’t speak, but you looked at her now, partially soaked from where she was sitting next to you on the wet concrete. “I’m Yelena.” She reached her hand out for you to shake.

You shook her hand. “Y/N. Nice to meet you.” You recognized her from your dorm floor, though you’d only ever seen her in passing.

“It’s nice to meet you as well,” she smiled softly. “I wish it were under different circumstances.”

You nodded, turning your gaze back to the raining night.

“Do you have anywhere to go? For tonight I mean. I would offer you to stay in my room, but…” she turned back to the door of the building. You both knew you couldn’t go back in there.

You shook your head. You hadn’t even thought where you would stay tonight. You could always stay in your car. It wouldn’t be the first night you’ve slept in the backseat. Still, the sopping wet clothes would surely make for a morning full of rashes and blistered skin.

Yelena sighed, looking at the ground. She was silent for a moment before she came up with an idea. “Let me call my sister. She and her wife have a massive place not so far from here. They’ll have a bedroom or two to spare.”

Before you could form a rebuttal of any sort, Yelena pushed the umbrella into your hands and dashed back inside. You tucked the umbrella between your leg and the crook of your arm, resting your head on your knees.

It wasn’t very long before Yelena was by your side again. “Okay she’s on her way. She’ll be here in about 10 minutes.”

You didn’t look at her, facing intentionally in the other direction. You felt so horrible. You just wanted to curl up and disappear. And now you were going to be picked and taken to the home of some random classmate’s sister? You try to formulate a response, a reason that you will be fine on your own, but there was nothing. It was either this or the back seat of your 1993 Toyota Corolla. Somehow, you bet Yelena wasn’t going to take that as a reasonable explanation as to why she should call off her sister.

“Are you coming with me?” You asked weakly.

She sighed and put her hand on your back. “I wasn’t planning on it, but I will if you really want me to.”

You finally turned to face her. She didn’t look thrilled at the prospect of leaving. She was probably a freshman. It was her first couple days in the dorm too and everything was so new and exciting. The last thing she wanted to do was go back home with her sister.

“No it’s okay,” you responded. The last thing you wanted was to inconvenience someone else tonight, and it’s not like a freshman you hardly knew was going to bring you much solace anyway.

She patted your back. “They’ll take good care of you, I promise.”

Before too much longer, Yelena stood up at the sight of headlights. She waved her arms in an “over here” motion. The car approached Yelena, stopping hard in front of the curb you were sitting on. The tires splashed you in rainwater and mud. Yelena winched, walking back towards you to usher you into the car.

She led you to the passenger door, popping it open and peeking her head in. “This is your girl,” she said, pointing back towards your soaked, mud covered figure. She motioned for you to sit.

You hesitated. The car looked nicer than any you’d ever been in before. The idea of ruining the nice leather seats made you want to shrink further into your ball of shame.

The woman in the driver's seat noticed your hesitation, but didn’t seem the slightest bit concerned with her seat. “Come on in,” she ushered. “Get out of that rain.”

You handed the umbrella back to Yelena, reluctantly taking a seat in the car. Yelena peaked her head back in to say “take care of her,” before closing the door and scurrying back into the dorms.

The woman looked at you, reaching up to pop on the overhead light. The sight of her in the light nearly took your breath away. She looked oddly familiar. Maybe you’d seen her around town. You sharply inhaled as the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen leaned over the console towards you. She frowned. “Oh you poor thing!” She reached out to wipe off your face. You cringed when you saw the mud smear across the sleeve of her jacket. “Let’s go home and get you cleaned up.”

You nodded and she turned the light off before pulling out of the parking lot. You fought the urge to curl up in her passenger seat, fearing further ruining her seats with the dirty bottoms of your shoes. When you didn’t speak, she offered up an introduction of her own. “My name is Natasha. I don’t know what Yelena’s told you, but I’m her sister. My wife and I have a place not so far from here.”

“I’m Y/N” you managed.

“A friend of Yelena’s?” She asked.

You chuckled a little. “I suppose you could say that. We met about 20 minutes ago.”

Natasha chuckled. “Of course. Leave it to Yelena to seek you out after such an injustice.”

You bit the inside of your lip. You wished you had heard the phone conversation so you could gauge just how much she knew.

It was as if Natasha could read your mind when she started next with the details of the phone call. “Yelena told me you got kicked out of the dorm by the other girls. They were uncomfortable because you were gay? I never expected to hear anything like that happening in 2024, but I guess I stand corrected.”

Well, that was one way of telling the story. At least Yelena had left out the peeping Tom allegations that got you chased off the floor by everyone who had to share a bathroom with you. They weren’t true, of course, but the fact that you’d made people so uncomfortable they were willing to name you a pervert without second thought made your skin crawl.

After a short, largely silent car ride, Natasha pulled the car into a garage. You hadn’t gotten a good look at the house, both because of the dark and getting lost in your own thoughts, but even by the state of the garage you could tell it was nice.

Natasha got out of the car, unlocking the door and leading you into the kitchen. You took your shoes off by the door, then decided to take your socks off too to avoid tracking muddy water through the house. The woman took your hand and guided you to the stairwell, then to a bathroom. She turned on the lights and opened up a cabinet, pulling out fresh towels and washcloths.

“I’ll get you some fresh clothes and sheets. The bedroom is through here.” She opened a door that revealed a sizable bedroom connected to the bathroom. You could hardly believe this wasn’t the master suite she’d led you too.

She turned to face you, exhaling as she once again took in your disheveled state. She picked some errant pebbles from your tangled hair and wiped it out of your face. “Now,” she started, “do you need anything else before I let you get cleaned up and off to bed?”

You shook your head. “No. You’ve done enough already. Thank you, Miss Natasha, for letting me stay here. It means a lot. Truly.”

“Of course.” She smiled. You didn’t notice the blush that crept onto her face at the formality. She swiped away the hair that had fallen in front of your eyes again. “We wouldn’t want a sweet girl like you sleeping out in the rain.” She booped the tip of your nose. “Now promise you’ll wake me or Wanda up if you need anything at all. We’re just in the room across the hall. Can’t miss it, it’s the only door on that side.”

You nodded slowly. There was no way in hell you were going to wake her or Wanda, who you assumed was her wife, for any reason. But you nodded anyway.

She smiled and rubbed your chin. “Good girl. Now go get cleaned up and try to get some rest.”

As she set off to her room, you hoped the mud had covered how pink your cheeks had gotten. You headed to the shower, sliding open the glass door and turning on the water. You decided to hop in with your clothes at first, hoping to get enough of the mud off that you could wear them again tomorrow. Then you wrang the clothes out and threw them over the door to dry. You took your time in the shower, letting the hot water warm you up from the cold rain. By the time you were finally clean, you grabbed the fresh towel Natasha had left for you.

Your clothes were, obviously, still soaked save for your underwear. You were thankful for the little time it had taken the thin silky material to dry. You put them back on and wrapped yourself in a towel before entering into the bedroom.

There was a maroon hoodie at the end of the bed. It had been there since Natasha first showed you the room, so it clearly wasn’t laid out for you. However, in lieu of other clothes, you decided the owner probably wouldn’t mind if you borrowed it for the night. You slipped the soft fabric over your head. It was much too big for you, going down to almost your mid thighs while the sleeves dangled over your hands. But it was, quite possibly, the softest material that you’d ever felt. It felt simultaneously brand new and freshly washed.

You crawled up into the queen sized bed, slipping under the covers. You held the fabric of the hoodie close to your face. It smelled nothing like the musky bergamot of Natasha, which had been equally as entrancing in its own way. This was distinctly different. It smelled soft and comforting like lying in a meadow on a spring day. The comforting smell and warmth, along with your own exhaustion, quickly had you asleep.

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wandanat x y/n #wandanat x you #wandanat x reader #wandanat #natasha x you #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #a room of your own

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alexrosa13 · 21 hours ago

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Supermodel

Xavier; Zayne; Rafayel; Sylus; Caleb; Jeremiah; Greyson; Thomas; Luke & Kieran x female!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: non-mc!reader

Note: the photos are not supposed to represent you (all of them were found on Pinterest), there are no physical traits of reader specified, enjoy <3

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Thousands eyes on you and the only one that matters belongs to...

Xavier

★ jealous of every eye that looks your way, would fight if he doesn't like the way someone stares at you (would fight if the stylists touch you where he doesn't want them to, even if it's necessary to get an outfit on)

★ falls asleep anytime he's backstage with you, you have a lot of sweet photos with him sleeping at totally random places (mostly surrendered by clothes) (you also have videos of his reaction to watching your walks, filmed by your manager)

★ your manager must be a woman or you'll have a lot and - I mean a lot - of talks about it

★ prepare yourself to be stolen from the show right after it ends, still in your outfit from the runway

"Xavier put me down!" your demanding voice didn't help you to get out of his hold. You were thrown over his shoulder, still in the beautiful dress and heels (that to be fair were already yours) from the show, you had little chance to fight against him in this outfit.

"Why would I do that? I'm just taking you home, you said you were tired." his calm demeanor made your eye twitch, that cute-innocent looking face couldn't fool you, not anymore. Even when you couldn't see it, forced to stare at the back of his head, you still knew that he had that mischievous spark in his eyes.

"You know I would love to change this outfit for my own clothes first, the clothes that I, you know, came in there." you said, your voice sarcastic.

"Your manager will get them, and if they won't then I'll buy you new ones." your only reaction was a loud exhale, there was no point in arguing with this guy. Accepting your fate, you let him carry you on his shoulder with your eyes staring at his legs.

"Jealous hamster." you whispered to his back, whether he heard it or not he didn't let out any answer.

After all he knew you were right, he was jealous, especially since when you walked the runway he heard what some guys talked about, with one of them planning to ask you out after the show and the rest hyping him up.

Now, he couldn't let it happen, could he?

Zayne

★ your personal doctor, won't let you put yourself through any drastic diets and measures for your career

★ will try his best to attend all of your shows, either from the audience or the backstage if you'll invite him there, if he can't make it because of his work, he'll watch it later and either send or tell you compliments (depending on where he is when watching the show)

★ doesn't exactly show you off, but ever since his colleagues got to know through social media that he's dating you, they started randomly bringing you up in the conversation (even with the patients)

★ anytime you come to the hospital when he ends his shift to leave for a date or just to pick him up people will ask for photos, especially if the nurses heard about your coming with a heads-up

Zayne just finished up the paperwork and put on his jacket, ready to leave the office knowing that you were probably already here.

And he wasn't mistaken: right after he found himself in the corridor he heard voices from behind the wall before him, and right after he turned there he saw what was the commotion about.

His lover, you, standing in the middle of young girls, not older than 12, surrounded by phones of parents taking photos. He stood there for a moment, giving you the time to entertain your young fans.

"Okay darlings, I need to go, cause my date is finally here." you laughed softly, patting the shoulders of the two girls standing before you.

"But we wanted to make a fashion show with you." one of them said, clearly sad.

"Sweets, you don't need me to make your own fashion show, just remember to be confident and to have fun." you patted her head, and said a couple more goodbyes while heading his way.

Zayne didn't miss a beat, presenting you with his arm which you took with happiness clearly visible on your face, you waved your free hand as the last goodbyes to the kids.

"Who would have guessed, that I'll have competition even in kids." he said quietly, once you two were before the hospital and he was opening the doors to let you into his car.

You only laughed softly, letting him close the door after you sat down.

Rafayel

★ your nr.1 fan, present at every show, meeting you backstage before the start of the event, then sitting in the best place in the audience with his phone ready to record you, only you, and then leaving to pick you up from the backstage

★ you're his muse and the model for his art, sometimes even having a photoshoot with his art in the background (Thomas approves of the marketing idea)

★ loves taking your photos, and bragging about you, you're the center of his universe

★ everyone knows that the infamous Rafayel, dates you, because of his social media, full of, well, you know - you

"Another photo?" your laughter sounded together with the wind wheezing in your ears.

"You look absolutely beautiful with the ocean as the background, and the wind is a paid actor, cutie. I can't help myself." he put the camera down, satisfied with the result of his work.

"Not everything needs to be saved by pictures and videos, you know?" you tried to act annoyed, but couldn't, a smile visible on your face,

"I know, don't worry, that's why our private moments stay only in our memories." he teased you back, earning himself a punch to the shoulder. He jumped back, as if you actually hurt him, with that perfect, dramatic expression of his.

"Gosh, you're so annoying sometimes." you giggled, not reacting to his attics at all.

"AND you still love me! I mean I can't blame you, I'm super handsome and no one can resist me." his arms came to wrap around your waist, bringing your back to his chest.

"Sure, sure, you're my pretty boy." you turned around in his hold, squishing his face in your palms. When suddenly you stopped, looking at him intensively and bringing his face down to your eye level "Only mine." you whispered, in a provocative tone.

He gulped.

Sylus

★ power couple. he is your mysterious boyfriend whose name no one knows, but they know of his existence, mostly through your social media full of pics with countless bouquets of flowers, and the typical photos of a couple without your man's face in it.

★ they tried guessing that you're dating one of the other models that you seem to know backstage, failed countless times (they want to know who he is, why are you keeping them waiting girl)

★ he is actually present at most of your shows, watching you from the audience, he loves your confidence on the runway

★ buys you expensive gifts, loves showering you with the luxuries you deserve, and you love posting about it on your socials, bragging about your man

After yet another post with the huge bouquet of roses and a velvet box with a beautiful necklace in it your fans went wild.

Thousands of comments started coming up, asking once more for the reveal of the mysterious rich boyfriend of yours.

And you were currently sitting at the restaurant table, in a private room that he reserved for you after yet another successful show of yours, him sitting next to you on the huge comfy sofa with his hand resting on your thigh as you sip your drink, your head resting on his shoulder.

"It's so cruel of you to keep teasing your fans sweetheart." he said, the hand on your thigh gently moving in a calm motion.

"I can't help the fact that I want to keep you all to myself, but also love bragging about you." you looked up at him, stealing a quick peak from his lips. He let go of the glass he was holding, putting it on the table before the hand previously on your thigh moved to your back, then to your waist, pulling your body towards him, making your legs drop over his.

His second hand found itself hugging your legs so they won't fall off, and his lips found yours.

You put your drink blindly onto the table and wrapped your arms around his neck, basking in his attention.

Oh god how in love you were, you knew that you had him wrapped around your finger - he knew that too. And you both enjoyed that knowledge to no end.

Caleb

★ your biggest supporter, even tho he's not often present at your events, either due to work or the fact that it's not his most comfortable place to be

★ would and will watch all of your shows live if he can, texting you in a real time about how stunning you are, or how you were the absolute gem of the show, stealing the spotlight from other models

★ if he's not at the Skyhaven he will drive you to and from the event

★ absolutely does brag about you to his lower (and not only) rank colleagues, he may be higher in ranks but he's still only 25 and finds himself spending time with others during lunches or free time

He was at the gym, in the middle of a work out, doing push-ups with his phone under him and a wireless earphones connected to it.

He felt a pat on his shoulder, and stopping his exercise but staying above the ground, he took off one earphone, sending a questioning look towards the man who disturbed him, noting that it's the guy from the group he often hangs out with.

"Is that... A fashion show?" he asked sceptically, looking at the phone on the ground. Caleb stole a glance at the screen, noticing that it wasn't your turn yet he turned back towards the man,

"Yeah, my girl's walking in it." he answered, a slight smirk on his lips.

"Ain't no way man." the man clearly doubted his words.

"It's actually her turn, look." there you were, confidently walking down the bright runway, if it was physically possible he would have hearts in his eyes at the sight of you.

"With all due respect, there's ain't no way you pulled a woman like this." Caleb only laughed, before opening up his phone gallery, putting a photo of you and him at the full screen. You were kissing his check with his arm thrown over your shoulder.

"... Okay I believe you now, can't you, you know... Ask her if any of her friends is looking for a guy, maybe?" he only threw one last glance at him before putting the earphone back in and continuing with his work out.

He'll call you later to praise you, don't you worry about it.

Jeremiah

★ the sweetest supporter, always bringing flowers to your shows

★ stares at you like you're the goddess made for worship anytime he sees you on the runway

★ loves taking your photos when you visit him in Philo to help with the flowers before or after hours

★ sometimes he just looks at you, unable to turn away, not wanting to turn away, looking and looking, he could admire you for hours without getting bored: his reaction to you catching his wandering gaze would either be him shying away and blushing or throwing a cheeky comment your way to make you laugh: depending on the mood

You were taking care of the flowers, making them look more presentable before the shop was supposed to open. Jeremiah went outside for a second, and you didn't hear him coming back.

About five minutes later you turned around, and jumped with a gasp at the fact he was right behind you. He caught you before you could stumble on your legs, bringing you close.

"Jeremiah! You'll make me have a heart attack one day I swear!" you hit him gently on the chest.

"Sorry, I didn't think that I'll scare you." he laughed, noticing how you relaxed in his hold "I prefer to make your heartbeat race by other means." he whispered to your ear making you hit him once more and hid your head in his neck.

You didn't know yet that a new photo of you will soon find it's place on the wall of his apartment. Your day-to-day life before him was full of unhealthy habits, cameras and perfectionism, but together with him came peace, calm and a quiet place to let yourself be you.

He was your safe place.

Greyson

★ this absolute cutie would be so nervous if you'd invite him to the event

★ absolutely adores you and can't believe that he somehow got you to go out with him

★ would die if you ever model in lingerie, and I mean it

★ lives for the physical contact from you, loves to hold your hand and hugging you

Music played in the background of your apartment, you were watching the show that you walked in earlier on your tv screen, joking around, wearing your matching pajamas set.

He was absolutely smitten by you, watching your every move both on screen and right beside him.

On the screen you were about to walk the runway in the second fit when the song that you absolutely loved (because it made you feel badass) got to it's chorus, and in a playful mood you ran to the other side of the huge living area of your apartment.

He watched you with a smile, you mimicked your runway walk in your apartment, in pajamas, with no make-up and a messy hair, he cheered for you while laughing.

He adored you the most in moments like this, in the quietness of your apartment, without cameras forcing you to look your best. Finally getting to the couch you dropped down onto it, hugging him tightly.

He hugged you right back with a huge smile on his lips, he loved those private shows of yours the most, you were perfect like this.

Thomas

★ he probably is your manager, and if he isn't then he still acts like it backstage, probably besties with the person you hired to take care of your career

★ backstage everytime, he runs around you, making sure that everything will be alright and safe on the runway while also checking on you all the time: you need water? a snack? give him 2 minutes max

★ his public socials are full of pictures from your professional photo sessions, while private ones are just you in more domestic situations and casual outfits.

★ will run to you the moment the show ends, his calm demeanor slowly coming back to him after so much work and stress, please appreciate him

Luke & Kieran

"The mess today was bigger than usual." he was standing close to you with his eyes glued to his phone, already looking up photos of you.

"I know, having to change 3 times all in like 5 minutes is wild." you were finally allowed a moment to breathe, the stylists were running around helping the models take off the clothes from the runway "Darling, do you mind?" you turned around, showing him the zipper on the back of your dress.

Instantly he hid his phone in the pocket of his pants before his hands went to help you out. He helped you pull down the sleeves of the dress, with one of his hands holding up the front of your dress, making sure that your breasts won't get exposed. You put on a shirt over your head and only then he let go of the dress, helping you get out of it.

He handed you the bottom part of your outfit, his eyes searching the floor for your shoes.

Before he had the chance to turn around and search for them behind him he felt your hands on his face, making him look at you.

You placed a quick kiss on his lips, shocking him a little. No one even noticed, busy in their own worlds.

"Thank you for supporting me." you smiled, he hugged you with one arm for a moment before continuing his search for your shoes. Once he got them in his hands he kneeled down, helping you put them on "You're so sweet when you take care of me." you ruffled his hair a little.

He caught your palm and gave it a kiss before standing up. Gosh do we love a man who knows how to treat a woman.

★ if you're dating Luke: prepare for loud cheering every time you walk the runway and him being the owner of your fanpage

★ if you're dating Kieran: you're getting the calmer twin, loves taking the photos of you on dates, most of the time waiting in the separate hall for the show to end, watching you on the screens there

★ if you're dating both of them: you're in for a ride, they promote your socials on every platform they can, arguing with the people who found the audacity to hate you (got them banned so many times but they just keep creating new accounts), random selfies of your three are all over their phones, unpublished

★ your fans saw the photos of you walking somewhere with two masked people behind you, were they your bodyguards?

"You two love to annoy your Boss, don't you?" you laugh, they were just talking about the situation when they accidentally locked their Boss in the wardrobe with his not-yet girlfriend.

"Wrong!" Luke said, making the word last for like 5 seconds, like a buzz button.

"We love annoying everyone." said Kieran, high-fiving his brother and laughing with him.

You shook your head, coming back to drinking your bubble tea and scrolling through your phone.

You saw a post that made you almost spit out the drink from your mouth.

"What the hell is that?!" you showed the twins your smartphone with a smile.

Guess what a**holes, that girl is taken, and you have ain't no way of dating her, stop being delusional xx

"Oh yeah we posted that! Do you like that caption?" Luke asked, with a cocky smile on his lips.

You only laughed, they were unbelievable.

"What have I seen in you." you whispered, knowing fully well they heard you and you were seconds away from the tantrum of the year.

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megalony · 2 days ago

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Drunken Escapades

This is a new Buddie x reader imagine, I know it's been a while but I finally got this finished from my drafts.

I hope you will all like it, please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

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Buddie Masterlist

Summary: Everyone goes out to a club for Chimney's bachelor party and Eddie, Evan and (Y/n) intend to make the most of their night. But an argument leads to a fight, a fall and a lot of apologies.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Leave it."

"You did not just do that." Eddie's jaw ground tight and his head tilted at an angle as he glared daggers at his boyfriend.

He did not just slap Eddie's hand like he was a child trying to snatch something he shouldn't.

He couldn't help but roll his eyes and ground his jaw when Evan had the nerve to point between him and the buffet Eddie had been trying to sample. Just because everyone wasn't here yet; more specifically, Chimney wasn't here yet. That didn't mean Eddie couldn't sample some of the food. He was starving but he wasn't selfish, he wouldn't eat loads or mess with the buffet, there would be plenty left for everyone else.

"We wait for Chimney." Evan moved to plant both hands down on his hips while he looked around the room again. It had taken him a while to get this room organised and ready and everyone promised they were going to turn up. Even Chimney agreed, considering this party was in his honour, even if he didn't exactly want it in the first place.

Evan didn't want anything being messed with or changed or moved until everyone was here. He had a system, everything had to be exact and Eddie trying the food was going to mess with that system.

"I'm. Hungry." Eddie punctuated each word and snatched a sausage roll before he jogged away when he felt his boyfriend's hand swatting down on his backside.

He would settle for a sausage roll and pray it would tide him over until everyone else arrived.

Reaching out, Eddie snatched a bottle of beer from the other table and plonked down on one of the seats in the corner. He would stay away from the buffet so he didn't get an earful or another slapped behind from his boyfriend.

He and Evan had gotten here early to set up the room, but they knew everyone would be arriving soon.

About five minutes later, the door burst open and they both glanced over to the doorway to see who was the first to arrive. Evan's jaw dropped down and Eddie choked on his beer when they both caught sight of their girlfriend stood in the doorway.

"Wow."

Adrenaline sparked through every vein in (Y/n)'s body as she tried to catch her breath back. Her men were the only ones here; she wasn't late, she was right on time. Her eyes cast down to her outfit as she gasped for air and stepped into the room so the door could shut behind her.

"What, do- do I look okay?"

"You're kidding, right?"

Evan trailed his eyes up and down (Y/n)'s frame at least five times so he could drink her in; he felt like he was drunk already just by looking at her.

She was wearing a blood red dress that stopped in the middle of her thighs, a few inches above her knees. It fanned out around her legs and Evan guessed that if she did a twirl, the dress would fan out in a frill and he would catch sight of her underwear.

The dress was cut into a V-shape down towards her cleavage and had short spaghetti straps over her shoulders, exposing her neck which made Eddie feel like a vampire, desperate to strike.

Her lips were painted a dark shade of red to match her dress and she wore a pair of white flat shoes which meant the boys would tower over her; just the way they liked it.

"You look great… what are you supposed to be?" Evan couldn't resist reaching out for her and reeling her in to his embrace.

His hands found her hips and he squeezed tightly and ducked down to capture her lips and see if they tasted as sweet as she looked. He felt her hands clamp down on his shoulders to steady herself and she roamed her hands up and down his chest when they parted.

"You said eighties, this dress is vintage." She gave a little shrug before she sauntered over towards her other partner whose eyes were glued to her legs as she advanced towards him.

(Y/n) didn't know what to dress up as and she didn't want to go all out in a costume or with make up when she knew it wasn't that kind of party. Rather than picking something or someone to be, (Y/n) just bought an old dress that was from the eighties so she still fit the bill. This would do and she could tell that it was working wonders on her boys already.

When she reached Eddie, she gasped when his hands reached out for her and he dragged her down onto his lap without a second thought. His arms bound around her waist and his lips attached to her neck, biting down harsh enough to leave a bruise in his wake.

"What're you two dressed as?"

Her eyes scanned between the pair of them, soaking them in and assessing what they were wearing and drinking in what they looked like.

Evan had on a plain white shirt that stuck to his chest, outlining his collar bone that stuck out prominently, as did his abs. Over his shirt, he wore a blazer the shade of pastel mint blue with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and matching trousers that were pulled rather high up on his waist. (Y/n) noticed that the front button on his trousers barely managed to do up, it looked like it would pop open and take someone's eye out at any moment.

But Evan looked raveshing.

And when she turned to look at Eddie who was content heaving hickeys up and down her neck, she noticed he was dressed much the same. A very pale pink button up shirt that had the first few buttons undone. A lovely baby pink jacket and matching trousers and his hair was fluffy and ruffled and looked as soft as a cloud.

"Miami Vice." Eddie murmured into her neck and when he finally lifted his head, (Y/n) twisted to capture him in a kiss. She brought her hand up to brush her thumb across his lower lip, smearing away the make up she left on his already blushing lips.

"Oh."

"Do you want a drink?" Evan motioned towards the door to signal that he would go to the bar and when (Y/n) murmured "Surprise me," she watched a light go off in Evan's eyes.

She felt Eddie chuckling into her neck when Evan sauntered out of the room. Oh, they both knew she was going to regret that later. Evan had a knack for finding the perfect drinks that tasted sweet but were very leathal, especially the cocktails he would find or even make himself.

Eddie leaned back when (Y/n) hopped off his lap and looked around the room with a grin that sparkled like a disco ball.

Why did she have to smile like that? Her smile was infectious. It always had been; it was like a drug to Eddie and he felt like he was drunk already when his girl was dressed like that with a smile that could kill.

His eyes darted down to her ruby red lips more than once until all he could stare at was the way she darted her tongue across to wet them and his breath caught in his throat for a moment. He felt his stomach tensing and pulling inwards and when (Y/n) leaned across to look over the table, Eddie's eyes followed her.

He watched the way her dress moved when she leaned forward and when (Y/n) glanced in his direction and noticed where he was looking, unabashed, she smirked and adjusted the dress a little.

"Don't be doing that." He muttered around the beer bottle in his hand and took a swig before he got up and moved to stand beside her.

"Doing what?" (Y/n) tried to feign innocence, but it didn't work when Eddie towered over her and leaned in. He motioned the bottle in his hand towards her dress and pointed towards her cleavage. He knew she pulled the dress down a little; just enough to give him a good view without being too indiscreet.

(Y/n) shivered when she felt Eddie lean in towards her and she tilted her head up in his direction, but he dipped down to hover his lips over her ear instead.

"Starting something you can't finish; They'll all be here soon. You start teasing, and we'll have to take you somewhere to adjust that dress. Everyone will notice if we slip away."

Eddie had no problems dragging (Y/n) and Evan into a bathroom or finding a room somewhere to cop off in. But he knew that (Y/n) was the one who wouldn't want people thinking that or knowing why the three of them disappeared. She wouldn't want the team to tease them if they snook off to a quiet corner.

She knew what her boys would do. They would mess with her hair and her make up and probably her dress too. It would be obvious what they had been up to if Eddie and Evan dragged her away.

She hummed quietly and turned her head in the direction of the buffet table instead. She didn't even get chance to grab a sandwich before Eddie held her wrist and brought her knuckles to his lips.

"Ah- ah. Buck wants to wait for Chimney… almost lost my arm when I went for a sausage roll."

(Y/n) took a quick glance behind her before she snatched a sausage roll and popped it in her mouth while Eddie reached for a handful of crisps and followed her lead. He wasn't here and no one else had turned up yet; he might not notice a few discrepencies in the food.

It didn't take long for the rest of the group to turn up. Hen and Karen arrived first, swiftly followed by Ravi, Tommy, and finally Chimney who was fashionably late as they'd expected. Although Tommy was the first to leave after only an hour, something that couldn't be helped considering he was on call and his fire house was short staffed.

The room they had booked out was quaint and quiet enough for them, but it became a little too constraining after a while.

Once the food was eaten and everyone was halfway to being drunk, it became tedious to keep filtering in and out of the room to fetch the drinks back and forth. Plus, there was better music and karaoke going on in out in the main bar.

So when Karen drunkenly exclaimed "Let's go have some more fun, out there!" everyone was quick to follow and filter into the bar.

Moving out of that function room and going into the actual bar felt a lot better, it was like everyone could come out of their shells and relax. But it also meant that they all started to filter into their own little groups. (Y/n) wasn't sure where Ravi had gone to, but Karen was near the bar, Hen and Chimney were on kareoke and both (Y/n)'s men were at the bar lining up some more drinks.

(Y/n) couldn't keep up with the amount of shots Evan and Eddie were taking, but she tried. Tonight was a night where they could all let loose. Chris was having a sleepover with friends, they were all free to hang out and drink into oblivion and they would somehow find their way to a taxi to get home. (Y/n) didn't want to be the only one not properly drinking or feel like she was half sober when everyone else was blatently drunk.

A lazy, mostly tipsy smile graced (Y/n)'s lips when she approached her men at the bar. She wriggled her way in between them and folded her arms over the bar just as Evan turned to look down at her.

She felt him shift so he was stood behind her and both his arms encased around her waist while his chin perched on her shoulder so he could look down at her. The way his foot was jittering against the floor and his hands were twitching against her waist made (Y/n)'s head spin. He was so fuelled on alcohol that he was starting to vibrate.

She heard him mumble "There you are, we missed you." Against her neck and the words made her smile. How someone could feel lonely after only three minutes was beyond (Y/n), but she was more than happy to make him feel loved and secure again.

"Want another drink?"

"Hm, I- I don't know where my drink's gone." (Y/n) giggled at the end of her sentence as she looked around the bar and glanced behind her. She wasn't sure where she had last seen her drink or if she had finished it. (Y/n) couldn't even recall what she had been drinking.

Her arms folded over the bar that was slightly damp and sticky with beer, vodka and God knows what else. But she didn't care. She arched her lower back out so her bum was pressing back into Evan while he curved around her like a blanket and continued to add to the hickeys littering her neck that Eddie had started up earlier.

Her fingers drummed against the counter and her lower back arched out while she leaned her head to the left until her cheek was pressing into Eddie's bicep. The contact seemed to bring him out of his dazed, drunken thoughts and a lopsided grin plastered across his face as he leaned down to press a sloppy kiss to her temple.

"Oh, hello." He murmured against her temple while he reached one hand out to flag down the bartender. "Are we having shots?"

That dark, sugary tone took (Y/n) by surprise and she glanced her eyes up to see Eddie's brow was arched up, waiting for a response. His smile was so wide that his eyes were barely open anymore and he flashed his pearly whites in a smile that was clearly intoxicated but still amusing and rather cheeky too.

Somewhere during the evening, Eddie's top buttons had come undone and his blazer sleeves were now rolled up to his elbows. He looked to have one or two marks on his shirt but even in his disshevelled state, he still looked extremely handsome.

"Yes." Evan answered before (Y/n) had the chance and she sighed playfully as Eddie ordered them a round of shots and a tray of cocktails too. So they didn't have to come back to the bar for a while, was clearly the reasoning behind that.

(Y/n) hung her head down and groaned playfully. She wasn't the best at shots. These were either going to make her throw up in the bathroom or they were going to send her mind spinning and effectively wipe the rest of the night from her memory when she woke up in the morning.

She watched the barman place their drinks down on a tray along with six shot glasses which she started to fill up, per Eddie's request.

Once the tray was filled with their drinks, Eddie reached out to take them and (Y/n) noted that he looked somewhat sober when he walked off with the drinks. He wasn't wobbling as much as before, he looked cocky rather than blackout drunk and he wasn't swaying or shaking the tray. He walked with an air of confidence that made (Y/n) smile.

And when she felt Evan's arms finally unbind from her waist to follow after their boyfriend, she moved to walk along behind him. Her steps were slightly uncoordinated and she swayed as she moved, but the room wasn't moving or rocking yet which was a good thing. She could carry on for a bit longer before they would need to call it a night.

She could see Karen was back at the booth they had acquired when they came into the main area of the bar. And Ravi had suddenly appeared out of nowhere once again. They would need some more shots.

"Wanna dance?"

When a rough hand grappled for (Y/n)'s hip and she felt a strange arm pressing into her lower back, (Y/n) quickly snapped her head to the left. She could feel the room spinning as her head turned woozy, but after a moment her vision cleared and she found herself staring at a stranger.

He had a rather wicked smile that showed his teeth and it made his upper lip curl. And the way his eyes were narrowed and raking her up and down made (Y/n) want to adjust her dress and pull the cleavage back up to stop this stranger from leering at her.

Her teeth sank down into her lower lip, trying her best not to frown or glare at this stranger, she didn't want to give the wrong impression or come across as rude.

Her shoulders pulled in and she stepped to the right to add a gap of space between them while she tried to shake her head.

"No, thanks." (Y/n) thought her response was okay, she didn't sound snotty or rude or ungrateful, although she had no reason to be so kind when he simply grabbed her and seemed to think she would automatically agree.

But the arm around her back stayed and his hand seemed to tighten on her hip until his fingers were scrunching up in her dress. And his other hand moved to clamp down around her left wrist which he used to pull her back towards him. He stepped to the left, practically dragging (Y/n) with him as he ticked his head to the side to indicate to the dance floor.

"Come on, you'll enjoy it. I promise." She could smell the alcohol entwined with his words and the way he leered close made her lean back until she was almost bent back over his arm.

Her head desperately looked towards the booth where her partners were as she moved her hand and pushed against his chest.

"No." She managed to give him a shove but he didn't let go of her wrist, causing a slight sting when he tried to yank her back. Her head angled to the side and her eyes desperately locked with Evan just as he finished one of the shots from the tray. "Evan- please!"

She wasn't quite sure what she was begging of him or if her partner could even hear her, but the distress must have been clear on her face. For Evan tossed the shotglass down on the table so it bounced off the tray and clattered beside Ravi who almost jumped up in shock.

The sleeves of Evan's baby blue jacket were bunched up around his elbows, showing off his straining forearms and the veins bulging against his skin as his hands clenched into fists. His head angled down and his jaw locked tight as he stormed towards (Y/n).

He looked dangerous with a mix of confusion, jealousy and a slight drunken haze washing over those deep blue pools and those dark pupils.

"Hands off her. Now." There was something frightening in Evan's tone, but it had (Y/n)'s knees ready to cave in when it was mixed with that dangerous look in his eyes.

She watched with a fluttering heart as Evan stood beside her, close enough that his chest was pressing into her arm and he reached across until his hand clamped around the stranger's much smaller wrist. With a sharp twist, Evan thrust the man's arm to the side once he released (Y/n) and Evan bound his arms around her waist, reeling her towards him instead.

He didn't care who this idiot was or what he thought he was doing. (Y/n) looked worried and she had clearly said no. That meant leave her alone, not try and convince her otherwise.

She felt Evan mutter "You alright?" against her temple to which she nodded and smoothed her hand up and down his chest to try and stop him from starting a fight. They just needed to walk away.

"Back off and leave her alone." Evan reached out and gave the man a shove in his shoulder which successfully knocked him back a few paces towards the dance floor.

He could feel his chest heaving up and down as (Y/n) curled her hands around his bicep and tugged gently to try and coax him back to the booth. They had drinks to down and drunken friends to be around. They didn't need to waste time and energy arguing with an idiot like that who probably wouldn't remember any of this come morning.

Evan allowed (Y/n) to pull him back and a shiver tore down his spine when her hands found his hips and she turned him to face the booth. She gave a little nudge until he started to walk with the feeling of her face pressing up between his shoulder blades and her hot breath fanning against his blazer causing shivers to run up and down his spine.

"You still owe me a dance." (Y/n) could feel those words piercing through her skin as a hand tried to grapple for her hip to pull her back. Which caused him to yank on her dress and almost tear the fabric.

A gasp tore past (Y/n)'s lips as she bashed her arm behind her to whack him and push him away.

She stumbled to the side when Evan whipped around, eyes ablaze with fire and his upper lip curling into a snarl when he realised the man was still trying to pursue her after being warned off.

"Pretty sure I've already told you to fuck off." Despite how many drinks he'd already had, Evan's words were surprisingly clear and his movements were quick and precise. He clenched his hands around the man's shirt and used it as leverage to pull him forward until the tips of his shoes were skidding against the floor.

"Eddie!"

A groan tumbled past Eddie's lips and he rolled his eyes as he quickly choked down the cocktail he'd been drinking before he thrust his glass towards Karen. He swiped his sleeve beneath his mouth, catching the remnants of juice that dribbled past his lips as he weaved out of the booth and aimed for his partners.

His hand found (Y/n)'s shoulder and his eyes swept her up and down, making sure she was alright before he moved to stand beside Evan and gripped his bicep.

"Hey- hey, what's going on?" He gripped Evan's arm tighter and tighter and his other hand moved to press against Evan's chest, trying to nudge him back so he would let go of whoever he was starting a fight with. They were here to have a good time and be drunk with friends, they didn't need to be starting fights and getting themselves kicked out of bars. They weren't teenagers anymore.

"He won't take no for an answer and insisted on grabbing (Y/n)." The grunt at the end of his sentence was followed by Evan giving the man another shove as he let go of his shirt which was now crumpled.

Eddie's eyes quickly darted back towards (Y/n) and his brows furrowed in confusion as he waited for her to respond.

"He tried pulling me to the dance floor." She muttered quietly while her hands rubbed up and down her arms and she stayed stood to one side so she was out of reach. Just in case he tried again to reach out for her.

"Alright," Eddie closed his eyes for a moment to stop the double vision from getting any worse before he stepped a bit closer so he was in between his boyfriend and the stranger who was getting far too close to their girl. "You, back off to whatever corner you crawled out of. And you come with us and have a drink."

(Y/n) tried to nod and she curled her hands around Evan's arm to try and pull him back. If they all went and sat down and finished their drinks, this idiot would realise no one was going to give him the time of day and (Y/n) clearly wasn't interested. They didn't need to start anything.

Eddie wished the man would have just listened and did as he was told. He could have gone back to whatever corner he had been in and found someone drunk and willing to dance with him.

But instead, the man side stepped so he was leering at (Y/n) as a few people began to edge closer and crowd round, clearly anticipating a fight.

"I was dealing with her, not the bodyguards."

When he reached out for (Y/n) again, both Eddie and Evan shoved him back. Neither of them were letting him touch or get close to their girlfriend.

"Get the fuck back."

"Move-"

"Babe, don't- stop it both of you!" (Y/n) grappled for Eddie's arm when he looked like he was about to reel back and punch the stranger and she tried to nudge Evan back so he wouldn't be tempted to fight too.

She knew Chimney and Hen were now hurrying over to try and help prevent a fight from taking place. The pair of them needed to step back, they needed to stop and call security and get this idiot to stay away from them. Fighting wasn't going to do any of them any good.

She wasn't sure who started pushing first, but she knew the moment an unfamiliar hand tried to grab at her, that it was Eddie who threw the first punch. He saw the touch and smashed his fist into the stranger's nose before he could think better of it.

A guttural "Get back." Spat past Evan's lips as he shoved the stranger before he swung his arm round and pushed against (Y/n) to stop her from getting any closer. He knew she was trying to get in the middle of them to stop the fight but by doing that she would land a punch and get hurt.

Evan's arm bashed into her chest a little too forcefully and he swung his arm right round to shove (Y/n) behind him where she should have stayed in the first place so she wasn't anywhere near this creep.

He pushed a little too hard.

He knocked (Y/n) hard enough that she tripped over her feet and in her drunken state, she couldn't find her sense of balance quick enough. (Y/n)'s hands grappled for Evan's arm but she couldn't hold onto him in time.

She didn't realise she had been standing so close to the steps that led down to the toilets until her foot skidded off the top step and she went flying back.

A scream broke past her lips as it felt like she was flying through the air. Her hands waved frantically in front of her but she cringed and began to shake when she landed with a crash on the steps. There were only four stairs in total that led down to the hallway toilets but each one seemed to cement against (Y/n)'s back and sent shockwaves running through her system.

The back of her head slammed against the floor and sent her vision black with little spots dancing before her like stars twinkling in the midnight sky.

Tremors rattled through her body as she tried to move but she couldn't find the willpower. All she could do was gasp and groan, trying in vain to get the air back to her lungs.

"Jesus, Buck!" Eddie smashed his hand into Evan's shoulder and gave him a rough push to one side so he could stumble towards the stairs.

Eddie moved his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose and he shook his head to try and sober himself up a little before he crouched down beside (Y/n).

Both hands moved to cup either side of her face and his thumbs swiped across her cheekbones beneath her eyes as he tried to check that she was still conscious and that she could actually see him. She could have a concussion or broken ribs or any number of sprains or injuries.

"Baby, you with me?"

(Y/n) choked through another groan but she managed to nod and her hand reached up to curl around Eddie's wrist. She shuddered when someone else knelt down beside her but when she realised it was only Hen, she let herself relax.

Her arms weakly moved out towards them both and waved until they took the hint and carefully eased her up from the floor. Eddie moved his free hand to her lower back and he shuffled her off the stairs so she was sat on the floor.

"Fuck." She mumbled quietly, moving one hand to rub the back of her head before she curled both her arms around Eddie's neck and leaned into him, hoping he got the hint.

She heard him mumbling "Alright baby," and his hands found purchase on her waist as he got to his feet and eased her up with him. He didn't like the way she wobbled back and forth but she was stood on both feet and she wasn't crying or whimpering in agony. She didn't seem to have any strains or injuries to her legs and she was moving her arms and bending just fine.

Maybe the alcohol was softening the blow or maybe she didn't land that hard, either way, Eddie was glad they wouldn't have to make a drunken trip to the hospital tonight.

When Evan reached out for them both, Eddie frowned and gave him a light tap around the back of the head. "You could've knocked her out-"

"You didn't exactly help either, Eddie!" Evan hissed in retaliation before he reached out for (Y/n). His hands cupped either side of her face and he bent his knees to be level with her as he leaned forward until their noses were pressed together. "Sorry baby, I'm sorry. You okay?"

The panic was evident in his drunken eyes and the rest of the group were crowding round to make sure they didn't have to call for help or all take a trip to hospital.

But the grumbling smile on (Y/n)'s lips and the way she scrunched her nose and nodded made them all relax.

She stole a quick kiss from Evan's lips to calm down the panic in his eyes before she gave him a gentle nudge in the chest.

"You'd better buy me a drink for that, Buckley."

***

A groan burst past Evan's lips as he snapped his head up and tried to open his eyes. It took all his will power to manage to get his vision into focus so he would see where he was and what was going on.

Where was he? What had he been doing? Why didn't anything look familiar? Why couldn't he remember what he had been doing before he passed out?

He was laid on the floor. He was sprawled out on the floor that was littered with feathers, broken pillows, stray covers and sheets and a lot of glasses and bottles. He was still wearing his suit from the party- of course, the bachelor party! Although as Evan tried to look at his suit, he realised it was ruined; splattered with drinks, food remnants and God knows whatever else.

Every part of his system felt broken and sore and he coughed as he planted his hands down on the floor and slowly sat himself up. His head lolled back and forth and everything seemed to spin around him, and not in a good way either.

"God… Eddie… (Y/n)?" He moved his hand to cradle his temple as he winced and groaned.

When he looked around the room, a few splattered memories started to come back to him in odd bits and pieces. He remembered a lot of karaoke. He remembered drinking, specifically shots and cocktails with the group. He recalled Chimney being the first to leave which had been a dampener on the night, but he knew the rest of them carried on partying.

He wasn't sure what room they were in though, they hadn't booked a room for tonight. Maybe this was Chimney's room. He had probably gone to Hen's for the night, he hadn't been keen on staying at a hotel in the first place.

"Fuck, what happened?"

Eddie couldn't feel his legs. His head was swaying back and forth as his vision took its time figuring itself out and coming back into order. He had gone to sleep in the bath.

It was empty, thankfully. He couldn't imagine waking up in freezing cold water, that would have made him sick. His legs were hanging over the edge of the tub which was pressing uncomfortably into the creases of his knees. His lower legs had gone numb which meant he had been asleep like this for a few hours at least.

He glanced around the room and found his boyfriend just beginning to get up from the floor. So Evan had gone to sleep on the floor, interesting. He'd never done that before. That begged the question, where was (Y/n)?

Eddie was grateful for Evan's hands when he came over to stand in front of him and carefully helped him out of the tub. They both wobbled and stumbled unsteadily on their feet but when Eddie glanced ahead to the other side of the room, his lips quirked into a smile and he pointed across.

He could see their girlfriend on the bed. He pointed across to the bed and the pair of them slowly headed (Y/n)'s way and as Eddie glanced down at himself, he grimaced. His soft pink trousers were rather dark and gritty now, stained beyond repair.

Somehow during the course of the night, he had removed his shirt but managed to get his blazer back on and he was still wearing his bowtie even with his chest exposed.

It must have been a good night.

When the pair of them trudged over towards the bed, a smirk flooded each of their faces.

There she was. Their girl, laid across the centre of the bed rather than near the pillows which were admittedly strewn about the bed and the floor. Her feet were hanging over the side of the bed and her arms were sprawled out ahead of her as she laid on her stomach with her cheek smushed into the plush covers.

Her hair looked to be skewed and toussled all about the place, but it was the sight of that blood red dress she had been wearing all night which made both men smirk. Her dress was undone at the back and it looked like it had slid down her chest and had become ruffled and stuck around her waist instead.

With a huff, Eddie flopped down onto the bed just behind her and he leaned his weight up on his hand while his free hand moved to delicately trace designs and patterns across (Y/n)'s shoulder and the back of her neck. His head angled to one side as he smiled softly while Evan crouched down beside the bed.

Evan crossed his arms on the bed and leaned over until his face was angled close to (Y/n)'s.

"Morning baby," He whispered softly, moving his hand a little so his finger traced her chin and then her lower lip. Unable to resist once (Y/n) hummed and her eyes began to flutter, Evan leaned over and pecked her lips. There was a faint hint of cherry lingering on her lips and it made him hum and angle his head for a deeper kiss.

As his fingers traced over (Y/n)'s exposed back, a frown etched onto Eddie's features and his skin bristled as he sat up straighter.

"Buck…" He leaned forward and nudged his foot into Evan's side to catch his boyfriend's attention.

"What, you getting jealous?" He was only jesting and without waiting for a response, Evan leaned over (Y/n)'s back so he could snatch a kiss from their boyfriend too. He smiled into the kiss until Eddie pulled back after only a brief touch.

The loss of contact made Evan frown until he felt Eddie's hand ghosting along his jaw until Eddie had hold of his chin and began to angle Evan's head down.

"No, look."

Eddie didn't like what he saw and he watched Evan's face morph into a look of utter distress when he looked down at (Y/n)'s back. With her dress undone and pooling towards her bum, it exposed her skin to their eyes. She had deep plum purple bruises on almost every column of her spine and there looked to be some swelling around her back too.

For a moment, Evan felt like someone had grappled into his chest and had their hands around his lungs, squeezing until he had no air left. It took him a lot longer than it should have to fathom out why their girlfriend looked like she had been beaten black and blue.

The fight. The steps. The fall.

Evan had unintentionally done that to her. He had tried to keep her safe but he ended up pushing her on those stairs instead. He had caused those deep bruises on her back that looked like she had been painted a different colour. That was his fault.

"Oh, shit." He breathed, utter guilt weaving into his tone as he flopped to sit down on the bed on (Y/n)'s other side.

"What?"

(Y/n) groggily blinkered her eyes open and looked up at Evan with pouting lips and confusion plastered across his face. What was he thinking, what was he talking about?

She took a deep breath and moved her hands down against the mattress so she could push herself up and she scrambled her legs so she was kneeling up on the bed in between them both. Her hand moved to her hair, brushing loose, knotted strands from her face while she tilted her head back and tiredly looked between her men.

But when she straightened up, she couldn't help the way she winced and groaned when her back clicked. Her whole back was aching. It felt like she had been used as a punching bag. Perhaps she had slept funny or her back had gotten too cold during the night and her muscles had seized up, although it felt like her spine was hurting more than her muscles. They had all been rather drunk last night, after all.

Pinching the bridge of nose, Eddie sighed and shook his head a little to try and ward off the hangover that was raging a storm inside his head and causing his stomach to do summersaults. Once his head felt a little clearer, he reached out for (Y/n)'s elbows and he carefully urged her to shuffle off the bed and stand up which caused her to whine quietly.

"Come here, amor, I need to take a look at you."

He easily manoeuvred her in front of him, hiding a gentle smile behind a stoic expression when her dress pooled around her feet.

Kicking her foot out, (Y/n) tossed the dress to one side so she wouldn't trip over it. She had already figured that it was just the three of them in this room which meant she was okay to stand here in just her underwear in front of her men.

Eddie's words had clearly meant something else in (Y/n)'s mind because she took a sharp breath and frowned when his hands moved to her hips and he spun her round so her back was facing him. She thought he wanted to look at her, probably with a sense of hunger in his eyes. So why had he turned her to face away from him?

It was clear Evan felt bad, Eddie noticed the sorrow bubbling up in his boyfriend's eyes and the way Evan had both hands clasped together between his parted knees and how he was hunched over showed he was feeling sorry for himself. For what he had unintentionally done.

He tried to lift his gaze but seeing the bruises didn't make Evan feel better, it made him want to be sick. He hadn't meant to hurt her, he only wanted to move her out the way of that creep last night.

Eddie's left hand stayed clamped around (Y/n)'s hip while his right hand carefully started to press and prod against each column of her spine and around the bruises. If there was a lot of swelling or parts were too tender they might have to take a trip to the emergency room after the wedding reception.

"Wh- ow, ow Eddie that hurts." (Y/n) whined and reached her arm behind her to whack his hand away. Whatever he was doing hurt. He was making her jerk forward and pull away from his touch, something that never happened.

With a deep frown and confusion pooling in her eyes, (Y/n) wriggled out of Eddie's grasp and wobbled over to the full length mirror across from the bed. She turned around so her back and bum were facing the mirror and looked over her shoulder to see what the boys had been looking at.

"God, what did you two do to me last night?" The shock was evident in her voice as she stared at the bruises, but she didn't dare touch any of them.

A low smirk pulled at Eddie's lips and he shook his head with a laugh when (Y/n) looked over at them. So maybe the boys left a lot of marks and hickeys on her skin after a fun night, that wasn't really a secret, but they didn't leave marks like that on (Y/n) and especially not in a strange place like that.

She usually ended up with marks on her hips or the inside of her thighs and hickeys on her neck. They never left bruises like that on her, but it was rather funny to Eddie that (Y/n) thought they'd had a good enough night last night to do something like that and her not remember any of it.

"Nothing so exciting, mi amor."

"There was a fight, I tried to get you out the way…" Evan scratched the back of his neck as he finally looked up to meet (Y/n)'s gaze.

He saw the moment it clicked in her mind and she remembered. The brief argument they'd had with that stranger and the tumble she'd taken on the stairs. A grimace flooded Evan's face but his eyes didn't look away from (Y/n) as she walked back towards them.

"We both did, Dios we're sorry baby. We didn't mean to hurt you." Eddie reached his hand out and curled his fingers around her hip when she was close enough. He had been to blame as well, Evan might have tried to push her to keep her safe but Eddie had been arguing too and he had thrown the first punch. This was his fault as well.

Evan wasn't quite sure what he was expecting their girlfriend to do, but having her loop her arms around his neck and plant herself down on his lap was definitely not what he had in mind.

His hands quickly moved to hold her hips to keep her secure on his lap and he held his breath when she leaned forward and tucked her face into the crook of his neck. He could feel her teeth grazing against his skin and he already knew that she was going to be leaving a mark there as if to make them both even.

The frown that had been etched onto his face quickly changed into a smile, especially when he noticed Eddie's hand on (Y/n)'s lower back and his lips on her shoulder as he leaned towards them both.

(Y/n) pressed a few hollow kisses against Evan's throat, just enough to have his breathing turn shallow. Before she pulled back and looked between them both with one arm looped around the back of Evan's neck and her other hand moving to graze along Eddie's chin.

"Well? How are you gonna make it up to me?"

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