#just imagine how soft his voice would get

[elikajinnie]

hii! hope ur doing good I have some ideas in mind hear me out demon sunghoon where he fell in love with reader and tries to protect and keep an eye on her and sunghoon tries to disguise himself as a human to get closer to her will do anything to protect her and love her, buttt what if reader discover’s his true identity. It could be incubus sunghoon BUT ITS UR CHOICE, Hope ur doing good :333

The Incubus's Touch - P.S

a/n: i hope you like it <33

P: Incubus!Sunghoon X Fem!Reader (Recommended age 18+)

Warnings: Murder, Violence, Obsession, Teasing, Possession, Seduction, Hurt/Comfort, Temptation, Stalking, Suggestive Content, Mature Content.

Wordcount: 10.2k

Synopsis: Working at the old campus library was fun—except for one rule: never enter the basement. Yet, one day, you found yourself there, holding an ancient book. You read a few words, and now strange things are happening, and a mysterious new student won’t leave you alone. Who—or what—did you awaken?

a/n: i got some inspiration from a new book im reading called The Devil Makes Three by Tori Bovalino - i would recommend it if you can handle slowburn.

now playing: woo by rihanna | sins (let me in) by kanii | temptation by ashley sienna | dont mess with my mind by emo

reblogs and commentary are welcomed <3

--

When you first decided to get a job close to campus, you weren’t expecting much. In fact, you didn’t have many choices at all. Most of the cafes and shops near the university had already filled their rosters for the semester, and every rejection you received only added to the growing knot of anxiety in your chest. As the weeks passed, you found yourself growing desperate, spending late nights scrolling through job postings that seemed to disappear before you could even send in an application.

It wasn’t until one quiet afternoon in the campus library that your salvation arrived.

The campus library had always been your sanctuary—quiet, calm, and filled with the smell of old books. It wasn’t unusual for you to spend hours tucked into one of the corners, surrounded by towering shelves of books and the gentle hum of the air conditioning. The librarian, Mrs. Choi, had gotten used to seeing you there almost every day, to the point where she’d started greeting you by name when you walked through the doors.

That day, she had approached your table while you were hunched over your laptop, your screen open to yet another fruitless job search.

“Still looking?” she’d asked, her voice soft but knowing.

You’d sighed, leaning back in your chair. “Yeah. It’s been… rough.”

She’d nodded thoughtfully, her gaze drifting toward the stacks of books waiting to be shelved. Then, after a moment, she’d said, “How would you feel about working here? As my assistant?”

You’d blinked, thinking you must have misheard her. “Wait, really?”

“Really,” she’d said, smiling faintly. “It’s nothing glamorous, but we could use an extra set of hands. And you seem like the kind of person who’d do well here.”

You didn’t need to think twice. You’d eagerly accepted the offer on the spot.

The job, as it turned out, was exactly what you’d needed. Sorting out books, erasing stray pencil marks and doodles from pages, sitting behind the counter to check books in and out, cleaning shelves, making sure the computers were turned off at the end of the day—it was simple work.

You quickly fell into a routine. Most days, you worked quietly alongside Mrs. Choi, who was as patient and kind. Other times, you found yourself alone.

There were small challenges, of course— like figuring out the library catalog system, dealing with students who were less than gentle with the books, chasing down overdue returns—but they were minor in the grand scheme of things.

It wasn’t the job you’d imagined yourself doing, but it turned out to be exactly what you needed.

But there was one simple rule she had given you: never enter the basement alone.

At first, you thought it was strange. The basement was just a storage space, wasn’t it? A place to keep old supplies, forgotten books, and maybe some outdated equipment. Why would it matter if you were alone or not?

You got your answer the first time Mrs. Choi took you down there.

It had been a quiet afternoon, with only a few students milling around the library. Mrs. Choi had handed you a list of supplies needed to repair a torn book—a delicate process that required some old tools and adhesives she kept locked away downstairs. She led you to a small, unassuming door at the far corner of the library, almost hidden behind one of the towering shelves.

The moment the door creaked open, the atmosphere changed.

The air was heavier, colder. A faint smell of mold hit your nose immediately, mixed with something metallic that made you wrinkle your nose. The single light bulb at the top of the stairs flickered, casting shadows that danced along the narrow stairwell. You hesitated, but Mrs. Choi gave you a reassuring look and motioned for you to follow.

“I know it’s not exactly inviting,” she said with a small smile, descending the stairs, “but the supplies we need are down here. Just stick close to me.”

You nodded and followed her, but the deeper you went, the more uneasy you felt. The basement wasn’t just dark—it was suffocatingly so. The walls were lined with shelves cluttered with dust-covered boxes, forgotten stacks of books, and unidentifiable objects. The floor beneath your feet was uneven, cracked concrete, and your steps echoed in the silence.

And then there were the hallways.

You hadn’t expected the basement to be so sprawling. Hallways branched off in seemingly every direction, twisting and turning into darkness. Some of them were so narrow you’d have to walk sideways to squeeze through. Others disappeared entirely into shadows, the overhead lights either burned out or nonexistent.

“This library is older than the campus itself,” Mrs. Choi explained as she rummaged through a shelf near the end of one of the hallways. “The basement used to be part of an old archive building before the university bought the property. They’ve renovated the library a dozen times over the years, but the basement? Well…” She trailed off, gesturing to the decaying walls around you.

“Out of sight, out of mind,” you muttered, wrinkling your nose at the sight of a particularly large spiderweb on the wall.

Mrs. Choi chuckled softly. “Exactly. What the students can’t see won’t hurt them—or so the administration likes to think. Just be glad you don’t have to come down here often.”

You nodded, but your eyes kept drifting to the dark hallways. There was something… off about them.

“Mrs. Choi?” you asked, your voice quieter than you intended.

“Hmm?” she replied without looking up.

“Why don’t you want me coming down here alone?”

She paused, her hands stilling on the box she’d been searching through. For a long moment, she didn’t say anything, and you felt a chill crawl up your spine. When she finally spoke, her tone was casual—too casual.

“It’s easy to get lost,” she said, turning to you with a faint smile. “The layout down here doesn’t make much sense, and it’s not exactly safe to wander around in the dark. The last thing I want is for you to trip and hurt yourself.”

Her explanation made sense, but the way she avoided your gaze left you unconvinced. Still, you didn’t press the issue. You helped her carry the supplies back upstairs, relieved to step back into the library.

After that, you made a point to follow her rule. The basement was creepy enough with someone else—there was no way you were going down there alone.

At least, not until the night you had no choice.

It happened a few weeks later, after a long shift that had stretched past closing time. Mrs. Choi had gone home early, trusting you to lock up on your own. Most of the evening had just been returning books to their shelves, tidying up the counter, shutting down the computers—but just as you were about to leave, you noticed a small stack of books on the repair desk.

You froze, staring at them. Mrs. Choi had asked you to fix those earlier in the week, but you’d completely forgotten. The supplies you needed were downstairs—in the basement.

You hesitated, debating whether you could just leave it for tomorrow, but you knew Mrs. Choi was counting on you. Sighing, you grabbed a flashlight from the front desk and made your way to the basement door.

You hesitated at the door, keys in hand, as a quiet, uneasy thought crossed your mind: Just leave it for tomorrow. But Mrs. Choi... She was counting on you. The supplies were just downstairs. It’d take five minutes at most.

With a resigned sigh, you unlocked the door.

The heavy, creaking groan of the hinges sent a shiver down your spine as the door swung open. The familiar smell hit you immediately: damp, mold, and that faint metallic. You reached for the light switch, flipping it on without much thought.

Nothing happened.

You froze, your hand still on the switch. You flicked it again. And again. Still nothing.

You swallowed hard, telling yourself the bulb had probably just burned out—though you couldn’t remember a time the light had ever failed before.

“It’s fine,” you muttered under your breath, bringing the flashlight you’d brought along up. The bright beam cut through the darkness as you clicked it on, illuminating the narrow staircase in front of you. You took a shaky breath and began your descent.

The further down you went, the colder it became.

The air felt heavier here, pressing against your skin like a warning. You tried to focus on the flashlight’s beam, watching it bounce against the cracked walls and uneven steps. It helped, a little. But not enough to shake the growing knot of unease curling in your stomach.

When you finally reached the bottom of the staircase, you paused to look around. The beam of your flashlight swept across the basement, revealing the same maze of shelves, forgotten boxes, and darkened hallways you’d seen before. But tonight, it felt different—almost unfamiliar.

A shiver ran up your spine. You adjusted your grip on the flashlight, forcing yourself to move.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself. “Get the supplies and leave.”

You turned toward the shelf where Mrs. Choi always kept the repair tools. They were usually right there—neatly stored in a small wooden crate on the middle shelf. But as you shone the flashlight over it, you froze.

The shelf was empty.

Your heart skipped a beat as you quickly scanned the area. No crate. No tools. Nothing. You crouched down, checking the lower shelves, even though you knew they’d never been there before. Still nothing.

“Where…?” you muttered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own breathing.

Maybe Mrs. Choi had moved them? That was possible, right? She was always reorganizing things. You straightened up, your flashlight flicking from shelf to shelf, moving to step back, you were about tt turn to check the other shelves nearby. That’s when you heard it.

A faint sound, just on the edge of your hearing. A soft creak, like the sound of a door easing open—or maybe a floorboard shifting underfoot.

You froze, your flashlight trembling slightly in your hand.

“Hello?” you called out, your voice louder than you intended. It echoed through the basement, bouncing off the walls and disappearing into the dark hallways. No response.

You told yourself it was nothing. Maybe just the old pipes settling, or your own footsteps disturbing something. But as you turned back to the shelf, another sound reached you.

This time, it was softer—quieter. Like the faint rustle of fabric.

Your stomach dropped.

You swung the flashlight toward the nearest hallway, its beam cutting through the dark. Nothing. Just more shelves, more shadows. But your instincts were screaming at you now, telling you to leave. To get out of there.

"Okay, nope," you whispered to yourself, backing away from the hallway, your flashlight trembling slightly in your hands.

That’s when you heard it.

A hum.

Soft, almost melodic, like someone humming a lullaby just out of earshot. It floated through the air, carried on a breeze that shouldn’t have existed down here. The sound wrapped around you, tender and strangely inviting, tugging at something deep inside your chest.

You froze, the flashlight beam flickering as your grip loosened. The hum grew louder—not in an overwhelming way, but in a way that seemed to sink into your bones. It felt… warm.

Where were you again?

You frowned, the thought slipping through your mind like water through your fingers. You couldn’t remember. The dim basement around you blurred at the edges, the walls dissolving into a hazy glow. The tight knot of fear in your stomach melted away, replaced by a slow, pleasant warmth that spread through your body.

The hum wrapped around you like a blanket, comforting and wonderful, coaxing you to close your eyes and just… relax. The cold, damp smell of the basement faded, replaced by something sweeter. Flowers? No… vanilla, maybe. Something that reminded you of home.

You let out a soft sigh, your muscles relaxing, the tension in your shoulders fading. Your flashlight slipped from your fingers and clattered to the ground, but you barely noticed.

Everything felt so perfect.

You wanted to stay here forever.

But then, just as suddenly as it had started, the hum stopped.

And everything crashed back into focus.

The warmth in your chest was gone, replaced by a sharp chill that clawed at your skin. The sweetness in the air vanished, leaving behind the bitter stench of mold and metal. Your surroundings solidified, and you realized you were no longer standing where you’d been before.

You were in a different room.

The walls were smooth and gray, completely different from the crumbling concrete of the basement hallways. The shelves were gone, replaced by nothing but cold, empty space. The air felt heavier, colder, and every breath you took made your chest ache.

Your flashlight was nowhere to be seen, but a dim, pale light seemed to seep into the room from nowhere and everywhere at once.

The hum was gone, but the silence it left behind was worse.

You turned in slow circles, your heart hammering in your chest. The room was small, with smooth, gray walls that loomed over you, stretching upward into darkness.

“Hello?” you called, your voice trembling.

It echoed back to you, warped and distant, as if the room was far larger than it seemed.

The warped echoes of your voice faded into the suffocating silence of the room, leaving only the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears.

How did you even get here?

You couldn't remember. Your mind was still foggy, fragments of warmth and that eerie hum lingering in the back of your thoughts like an unfinished dream.

Did you walk here?

You felt like you were missing pieces of yourself, as if part of your memory had been swallowed whole.

You were about to take a tentative step forward when something deep inside you shifted—a strange, unnatural pull. It wasn't a sensation you could describe easily. It was as though a string deep within your chest was being tugged, pulling you toward something.

You froze, your breath catching as your eyes followed the invisible tether.

In the center of the room, sitting on a low, ornate stand, was a book.

Your heart stuttered. Had that been there before? You were sure it wasn’t. You would have noticed it immediately, wouldn’t you?

The book seemed to glow faintly, its crimson-red cover almost pulsating, like it was alive. There were no words or symbols on the front, just smooth, worn leather that seemed impossibly pristine for something that felt so… ancient.

You swallowed hard, your feet moving toward it as if on their own. Each step felt heavier, your instincts screaming at you to turn around, to run, but you couldn’t stop.

When you finally reached it, you hesitated.

It was smaller than you expected, almost delicate, as though it shouldn’t have belonged in a place like this. Despite its vivid crimson color, the book radiated a strange sense of calm—like it wanted to be touched.

Before you realized it, your fingers were brushing against the cover.

It felt smooth, almost unnaturally so, and surprisingly light when you picked it up. You turned it over in your hands, the edges soft and perfectly bound, as if the book had been untouched for centuries. But on the back, something caught your attention.

A pink heart.

It was imprinted into the leather, subtle, making it look almost playful.

You huffed, confused and almost annoyed by how strange it all felt. Turning the book back over, you slowly opened it.

The pages inside were blank.

Every single one, clean and untouched, as though the book had never been written in. But when you turned to the first page, something stopped you in your tracks.

There was writing.

It was delicate, inked in looping, elegant script that seemed to shimmer faintly in the dim light. The letters were strange, unfamiliar, but they seemed alive, as though they were moving ever so slightly, shifting and breathing on the page.

Latin, your mind supplied, though you couldn’t remember ever studying the language.

You tilted your head, curiosity overriding your fear as your eyes traced the unfamiliar words. They beckoned to you, pulling you in deeper. Before you even realized what you were doing, your lips parted, and you read them aloud:

"Qui me legit, fiat noster ligamen aeternum."

Nothing happened.

You stared at the book, waiting for some dramatic effect—a rumble, a flash of light, maybe a ghostly apparition—but there was nothing. Just silence.

You let out an annoyed huff, rolling your eyes. “Great. Real spooky,” you muttered under your breath. Closing the book with a snap, you placed it back on the stand, wiping your hands on your jeans as if to rid yourself of its texture. “What a waste of time.”

Turning around, you glanced around the room again, your frustration growing. It wasn’t like you had time to deal with creepy books in creepy basements. You still needed to get out of here and figure out why the supplies weren’t where they were supposed to be.

Then, you saw it.

A door.

It was open, just wide enough for you to slip through. You frowned. Had it been there before? It must’ve been—how else would you have gotten in here? Still, something about it didn’t sit right with you.

Was that where you came from?

You shrugged. Probably.

With no other options, you headed toward it, slipping through the opening, the faint creak of the hinges echoing unnervingly.

And then you were swallowed by darkness.

“Of course,” you muttered, groaning. Without the flashlight from earlier, the darkness was thick and impenetrable. You could barely see an inch in front of your face, and the faint light from the room behind you did nothing to help.

Fishing your phone from your pocket, you switched on its flashlight. The beam wasn’t as strong as the flashlight you’d been carrying before, but it was enough to see the area around you.

The floor beneath your feet was uneven and cold, a mixture of dirt and cracked stone. You shone the light around, trying to get your bearings. The walls were damp and covered in spiderwebs, and the faint scent of mold and rust lingered in the air.

Where even am I?

You took a tentative step forward, the beam of light from your phone trembling as you moved.

The hallway kept stretching forward, narrow and seemingly endless. The farther you walked, the more the walls seemed to close in around you, the air growing colder with each step. Your phone’s light flickered once, then again, making your pulse spike.

“Don’t you dare die on me,” you whispered, gripping the device tighter.

The light steadied, and you exhaled a shaky breath, your footsteps faltering slightly.

Something felt off.

The air was too still, the silence too absolute. It was the kind of quiet that made you feel like you were being watched, like something was lurking just beyond the reach of your light.

You shook your head, trying to focus. “Get it together,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. “Just find the exit.”

But as you took another step, something caught your attention.

A sound.

It was faint at first, almost imperceptible, but it grew louder the more you listened. A soft, rhythmic tapping, like footsteps… or fingers drumming against a surface.

You froze, the beam of your phone’s light shaking as your hands trembled. The sound echoed faintly through the corridor, coming from somewhere ahead of you.

“Hello?” you called, your voice cracking slightly.

No response.

The tapping stopped.

You waited, holding your breath, your ears straining for any hint of movement.

Then, suddenly, the tapping started again—this time behind you.

Your stomach dropped, and you whipped around, the flashlight from your phone sweeping over the hallway you’d just walked through. It was empty.

Completely, utterly empty.

You took a shaky step backward, your heart hammering in your chest. The tapping grew louder, faster, coming from all around you now, echoing off the walls in a maddening cacophony.

“Stop it,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Just stop!”

And then it did.

The silence that followed was deafening, almost worse than the sound itself. You took another step back, your pulse racing, and suddenly the floor beneath you gave way.

With a startled cry, you fell, the phone slipping from your hand as you tumbled into darkness.

You hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the air from your lungs. Dazed and disoriented, you lay there for a moment, your head spinning and your body aching.

When you finally managed to sit up, you realized you were no longer in the narrow hallway.

You were back in the room.

The light was gone, replaced by an suffocating darkness that seemed to stretch endlessly around you.

And in the center of the room, sitting on the stand where you’d left it, was the book.

But this time, it wasn`t red.

It was black.

And it was beating.

You screamed, the sound raw and terrified as it echoed around the room. Your knees buckled, and you collapsed to the ground, trembling uncontrollably. Your body felt impossibly heavy, as though some unseen force was pressing down on you, rooting you in place.

Frantic, your eyes darted around the room, searching for a way out, for anything to explain what was happening. But the darkness seemed alive now, shifting and writhing just beyond your vision.

And then, you felt it.

Hot breath, impossibly close, brushing against your ear.

Your breath hitched as warmth spread through you, pooling low in your stomach, and you hated how your body betrayed you, reacting to something you couldn’t even see.

Then came the lips.

Soft, feather-light, trailing along the curve of your neck. The sensation was so vivid, so real, that a groan escaped your lips before you could stop it. Your body arched instinctively, leaning into the phantom touch, even as your mind screamed at you to fight it, to run, to do something.

“Shh,” a voice purred, its tone soothing. “There’s no need to be afraid, my sweet. You called me, remember?”

Your heart raced, and your hands clenched into fists as you tried to regain control of your body. “What… what are you?” you managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper.

The presence behind you chuckled, the sound low and intimate, like a lover’s laugh shared in the dark.

“I’m yours,” it said simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You read the words. You invited me in. And now… we’re bound.”

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. “No, no, this isn’t real. This can’t be real.”

“Oh, but it is,” the voice replied, amusement lacing its tone. “You wanted something, didn’t you? Why else would you open that book? Why else would you speak those words?”

The weight on your body eased slightly, enough for you to shift and try to crawl away, but the darkness coiled around you like a living thing, keeping you in place.

“You don’t even know what you’ve done, do you?” the voice murmured, almost pitying. “Poor thing. You were so eager, so curious. And now…”

A hand—cold yet burning—brushed against your cheek, tilting your head up toward the stand where the book still rested.

“…you’re mine.”

The room seemed to pulse with those final words, the darkness tightening around you like a vice. Your vision blurred as panic clawed at your throat, and the last thing you saw before everything went black was the book—its pages flipping wildly on their own—glowing faintly with a sinister crimson light.

You woke up with a sharp gasp, your body jolting upright like you’d been shocked awake. But as you looked around, you realized you were lying in the middle of the hallway.

Your phone was on the floor beside you, its flashlight pointed up at the cracked ceiling.

It was a dream?

You laughed, breathless and shaky, running a hand through your hair as you tried to calm yourself. “This is insane,” you muttered, your voice trembling. The laughter didn’t last long—it felt hollow, a desperate attempt to convince yourself that what you’d experienced wasn’t real.

You snatched up your phone, and scrambled to your feet. Without wasting another second, you sprinted down the hallway, the weak beam of your phone’s flashlight bouncing with every step. You didn’t care where you were going anymore; you just needed to get out.

The hallways twisted and turned, stretching endlessly, and every shadow seemed to claw at you as you ran. It felt like hours—like the labyrinth was mocking you, refusing to let you leave.

But finally, somehow, you found your way back.

The dim light of the main basement room greeted you, and your breath hitched as your eyes landed on something you hadn’t expected to see.

The box of supplies.

It was sitting on the shelf, exactly where it was supposed to be.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at it. The same box you’d been searching for, on the same shelf you’d checked before.

How had it gotten here?

You didn’t dare question it. Not now. Not after everything that had just happened.

Without hesitation, you grabbed the box, clutching it tightly in one hand while you snatched the flashlight off the ground with the other.

Then you bolted.

Your feet thundered up the stairs, your pulse roaring in your ears as you raced for the exit. When you reached the top, you slammed the basement door shut and locked it, your hands shaking so badly it took you a couple of tries to get the key to turn.

The moment it was locked, you pressed your back against the door, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

You glanced down at the supplies in your arms, the mundane, ordinary contents almost laughable now after everything you’d been through.

But as you stood there, something cold prickled at the back of your neck.

You turned slowly, your eyes drifting toward the library’s main floor.

Everything was still. Silent.

And yet, for a brief moment, you could’ve sworn you saw a figure standing in the shadows between the shelves.

Watching you.

You blinked, and it was gone.

This was crazy. Absolutely crazy.

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, shaking your head as you clutched the box tighter. You were just tired, that was all. You hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in days, and the stress of balancing school and work was clearly catching up to you. Yeah, tired. That’s all this is, you thought, repeating it like a mantra.

Ignoring the lingering unease prickling at the back of your neck, you made your way to the counter. The two ripped books Mrs. Choi had left were still there, waiting for you. You dropped the box down with a thud, grabbed the tools you needed, and got to work.

Your hands trembled at first as you smoothed out the torn pages, applying the adhesive carefully. You focused on the process—cutting, pressing, and smoothing out the repair strips—letting the repetitive actions calm your frayed nerves.

This was normal. Fixing books. Doing your job. Nothing weird about that.

Minutes passed. Then longer. The books were almost done, and for a moment, you felt like you could breathe again.

But then, just as you reached for the last tool in the box, a soft tap echoed through the library.

Your hand froze mid-reach, your eyes darting toward the source of the sound.

Tap… tap… tap.

It came from the direction of the shelves, slow and deliberate, like someone tapping their nails against wood.

Your chest tightened as you stared into the rows of books, the library was dark now—darker than it should’ve been. The overhead lights seemed dimmer, casting distorted shadows across the shelves.

You swallowed hard, trying to convince yourself it was nothing. Maybe it was the building settling, or the heating system kicking on. Don’t be stupid. You’re just scaring yourself.

Still, you couldn’t help but call out, your voice wavering. “Hello?”

No response.

The tapping stopped.

You stared into the darkness for what felt like an eternity, your heart hammering in your chest.

Then, just as you were about to turn back to the books, a book fell from one of the shelves.

The sound was deafening, the thud reverberating through the library like a gunshot.

You jumped, your breath hitching, and spun toward the source. The book lay open on the floor, its pages splayed out like wings.

You didn’t want to go over there. Every instinct in your body screamed at you to stay behind the counter, to leave it alone.

But your feet moved on their own, taking slow, hesitant steps toward the fallen book.

When you finally reached the book, you crouched down, your hand trembling as you picked it up.

Your fingers brushed over the embossed title, and your stomach dropped.

It was the same book you’d seen in the basement.

You gasped, clutching the crimson book tightly as your eyes darted around the library. Maybe this was some sort of prank? Someone could have grabbed the book from the basement and planted it here to scare you.

“Hello?” you called out again, but the library was still empty, silent.

Your breathing quickened as you scanned the shelves, desperate to catch a glimpse of anyone—a student pulling some cruel joke, or maybe Mrs. Choi coming back to check on you. But there was no one.

You hurried back to the counter, your heart racing, and turned on the computer. Your fingers fumbled as you brought up the CCTV footage, the small screen flickering to life. You scrubbed through the past hour, watching yourself walking back and forth, grabbing the box, and fixing the books.

Nothing.

No one else had entered the library. The hallways and shelves were empty. It was just you, moving around, completely alone.

Well… almost.

You paused the footage, your heart sinking as your eyes locked onto a shadow. It was faint, barely distinguishable, but for one brief frame, something seemed to linger in the corner of the screen. Not a person, but… something.

It was gone in the next frame.

“Nope. Nope, nope, nope,” you muttered under your breath, slamming the monitor off.

You looked at the crimson book sitting on the counter, its cover gleaming faintly under the dim light. It felt wrong—its very presence seemed to thrum.

Without thinking, you grabbed it and tossed it into the nearest trash bin, making sure it landed deep under crumpled paper and leftover scraps.

“There,” you said to yourself, your voice shaky. “Done.”

Forcing yourself to focus, you went back to finishing the torn books, your hands working faster than ever. As soon as the repairs were complete, you shoved the box under the counter and hurried to turn off the lights.

The library plunged into darkness, the faint moonlight filtering through the windows barely enough to guide you as you locked the doors behind you.

You didn’t realize how late it had gotten until you stepped outside. The campus was quiet, the lampposts casting long shadows across the pathways.

You tightened your coat around you and began the walk home, your footsteps echoing loud. Every so often, you glanced over your shoulder, unable to shake the feeling that someone was following you.

But the path behind you was always empty.

Still, the unease stayed with you, like a cold weight settling deep in your chest.

When you finally reached your apartment, you locked the door behind you, double-checking it twice before collapsing onto the couch. You stared at the ceiling, your mind racing.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe you were just tired, your imagination running wild after a long day.

Before you knew it, sleep had overtaken you. The exhaustion from the long day weighed down on your body like a blanket, pulling you into unconsciousness almost instantly.

But the peace of sleep didn’t last long.

You found yourself in a dimly lit bedroom, one you didn’t recognize. The walls were draped with dark curtains, and the air was heavy with the faint scent of roses. You sat up slowly, blinking in confusion as you tried to make sense of where you were.

“How did I…?” you murmured, your voice trailing off.

Before you could process anything, a voice, smooth and rich like velvet, broke the silence.

“My, you’re even more beautiful up close.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, equal parts alluring and unsettling. You whipped your head around, searching for the source, but the shadows in the room seemed to shift and dance, obscuring whoever was speaking to you.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment,” the voice continued, closer now, almost right beside your ear. “To touch you… to feel you…”

You gasped as a pair of lips suddenly pressed against yours, soft but demanding.

Your initial instinct was to pull away, but the sensation was overwhelming. Your mind grew hazy, a strange warmth spreading through your chest as the kiss deepened. It felt so intoxicating, so magnetic, that you couldn’t help but melt into it.

Your heart pounded in your chest, your thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. The kiss was unlike anything you’d ever experienced—it was all-consuming, as though the very act of it was pulling you further into the dream.

You felt hands brush against your skin, feather-light but firm, holding you in place.

You tried to pull back, but the hands held you steady, the kiss turning more possessive. The warmth you’d felt earlier now burned, searing through your veins as if something was being poured into you.

Panic swelled in your chest, but just as you were about to scream, the room spun violently, and everything went dark.

When your eyes shot open, you were back on your couch, drenched in sweat. Your chest heaved as you gasped for air, your fingers clutching the fabric of your shirt.

It was a dream. Just a dream.

But the lingering warmth on your lips, the faint ache of the kiss, told you otherwise.

And as you glanced toward the door, you froze.

The crimson book was sitting there, completely untouched, resting on the floor as if it had never been buried at all.

Your blood ran cold.

You scrambled to your feet, your heart pounding as you stared at the book. How was it there again? You knew you’d buried it deep under the pile of scraps.

“Nope. Not dealing with this,” you muttered, your voice shaking but resolute.

You grabbed the book, your fingers brushing against its smooth, cold cover. A strange, pleasant warmth crawled up your arm at the contact, sending shivers through your body. For a fleeting moment, it felt good—too good. Your grip faltered as a soft sigh escaped your lips, unbidden.

No.

Shaking your head fiercely, you tightened your grip and turned toward the window. Without hesitating, you threw it open, the cool night air brushing against your flushed face.

With all the strength you could muster, you hurled the book out. It spiraled through the air before landing with a dull thud on the damp grass below.

You leaned against the windowsill, watching the book. It lay there, unmoving.

Relief coursed through you.

“That’s it,” you whispered. “Stay there. Stay gone.”

Slamming the window shut, you locked it, double-checking the latch before stepping back.

You needed to clear your head, to shake off the strange sensations still crawling under your skin. Heading to the bathroom, you stripped off your clothes.

The shower hissed to life, steam rising as the water warmed. You stepped under the stream, letting the heat cascade over you, washing away the sweat and fear clinging to your body.

You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths, trying to convince yourself it was all in your head. Just a bad day. Just a stressful, weird day.

You squeezed your eyes shut, the sound of the water beating against your skin filling your ears as you focused on your breathing. It’s fine. It’s just your imagination. Nothing weird is going on. You’re tired, just tired, you repeated in your mind.

The water seemed colder now, even though the temperature hadn't changed, and a shiver ran down your spine. You’re overthinking it. Just get out of the shower and relax, you told yourself, but your hands felt heavy as you reached for the soap.

Just as you were about to wash your face, a soft tap echoed from somewhere beyond the bathroom door.

You froze, the motion of your hands stalling in midair.

Tap... Tap...

Your heart skipped a beat as your eyes darted to the bathroom door.

It was all too familiar. You couldn’t breathe, your chest tightening as the sound echoed louder in your mind.

No. No. It’s just the house settling. Maybe it’s the pipes. Just the pipes.

But the words felt hollow in your mind, the fear building with every passing second. The taps grew louder, clearer, almost closer.

You turned off the water quickly, your heart hammering in your chest. You stood there, motionless, listening, waiting for the sound to stop.

But it didn’t.

And then a creak. Just slightly, but enough for you to hear.

You gasped, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around yourself as you backed away, your legs shaking. Your mind screamed at you to leave the bathroom, to get out of the apartment, but you couldn’t move.

Then, before you could react, the door opened, just a crack.

There was nothing on the other side.

Just the empty hallway beyond.

But you knew. You knew it wasn’t right.

You slammed the door shut and locked it immediately, your breath ragged. The air in the bathroom felt stifling now, the walls pressing in on you, the space shrinking.

Your hand trembled as you reached for your phone, desperate to call someone, anyone.

But the screen flickered as soon as you unlocked it. The text on the screen was warped, unreadable. You stared at it for a moment, your stomach dropping. Something wasn’t right with your phone either.

A sharp, guttural whisper curled through the air, a voice so low you barely caught it.

The voice was so faint at first, you thought it was just a figment of your imagination, a trick your mind had played in the silence. But then it came again, clear and sharp, wrapping around your senses like a heavy fog.

“Come closer...”

It was soft, smooth, but there was an undeniable edge to it—laced with something... something tempting.

You froze, the words swirling in your mind. It wasn’t your own voice. It was deeper, resonating through you, the very air around you thick with a strange pull. Your chest tightened, and you felt something shift within you, an involuntary tug deep inside your stomach, urging you forward.

“Just one touch... just one kiss...”

The voice slithered, curling into your ear like a lover’s whisper, and something about it stirred the air around you. Your body was heating up, your skin prickling with a strange energy you couldn't explain.

You swallowed hard, your breath quickening as you stared at the mirror, trying to make sense of what was happening.

That’s when you felt it—an undeniable heat at your back.

It burned, searing through you like something alive, something that wanted you. Your breath hitched, and you spun around in a panic, expecting to see someone behind you, but the bathroom was empty, the space cold and silent.

But the heat didn’t fade.

It lingered, crawling across your skin like a heavy presence, sending shivers up your spine. There was no one there, but the sensation of being watched was there. Your body tensed, the warmth spreading through your entire body now, suffocating you, as if someone was right there, pressed against you, whispering into your very soul.

“It’s just us now…”

You glanced into the mirror once more, and there it was again—the figure. This time, it was clearer, its shadowy outline just behind you, impossibly close. The reflection wasn’t yours—it was someone else, standing so close that the hairs on your neck stood on end.

You gasped, heart pounding, but the figure didn’t move, didn’t make a sound. It simply stood.

The heat intensified, and the whisper grew louder, more insistent, as if it had taken root in your mind.

“Come to me... you know you want to...”

Your pulse raced. The pull in your chest was growing stronger now, as if your body was no longer your own, as if it was being drawn to something that wasn’t just a dream anymore.

The room began to spin, and you had to grip the edge of the sink to steady yourself, feeling dizzy as the desire to obey, to give in, washed over you. But as you fought it, something else caught your eye in the mirror—something that made your blood run cold.

A pair of glowing eyes pierced through the shadows, locked on you. And they were hungry.

You staggered back, heart slamming against your ribcage, and in the corner of your vision, you saw a fleeting glimpse of something—something moving, shifting in the dark.

No… You wanted to scream, to run, but your body wouldn’t move. Your limbs felt like lead, and the heat had become unbearable, pressing into you, dragging you toward it.

With a strangled breath, you finally tore your gaze away from the mirror, blinking furiously to rid yourself of the image. But the voice didn’t stop. It echoed inside your mind, growing louder.

“We’re bound now... there’s no going back…”

You tried to pull away, tried to break free of the suffocating heat and the unbearable pressure, but you couldn’t move. It was as if invisible hands were holding you in place. Your body, already trembling from the overwhelming sensations, was paralyzed as the touch slowly traveled up your arms.

It was light, ghostly, like fingertips grazing over your skin—soft, but burning with a heat that sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t. The sensation slid up to your shoulders, your neck, curling around you.

The moment it brushed your throat, the pressure seemed to increase, suffocating you. The touch lingered there, just under your jawline, fingers gentle yet firm. And then, before you could think, before you could react, you felt something else—lips.

A kiss.

But not from anyone you could see.

Your eyes snapped shut, your breath shallow as the kiss deepened, warm and intoxicating. It was urgent, burning, and wrong, but in a way that felt too good to resist. You tried to move, tried to pull back, but the invisible force held you in place, pushing you further into the kiss.

It was there, all around you—this overwhelming feeling of being wanted, of being pulled into something. Your heart pounded painfully in your chest, fear and desire mingling into a sickening cocktail. The sensation of lips on yours, it felt alive, like the very essence of the kiss was drawing something from you.

A low, satisfied murmur vibrated against your lips, and something deep within you shivered.

No… stop, please… You tried to scream in your mind, but your body didn’t obey. You couldn’t pull away from it.

You were being pulled into it, held captive by something invisible, something that wasn't human. But what? What was kissing you, claiming you like this?

The answer felt just out of reach, like a whisper that barely brushed against your mind, too faint to grasp, too slippery to hold onto. The sensation of lips—too warm, too alive—pressed against yours again, and your strength began to wane. It was as if every breath you took was being drained, pulled out from you with each passing second. You felt weak, too weak to move, too weak to even think.

Your body, once full of fear, had gone completely limp, like a ragdoll strung up and held in place by an invisible force. The pressure around your throat tightened, suffocating, but you could do nothing to fight it. You couldn’t scream. You couldn’t even blink—all your energy was consumed, sucked away by whatever was holding you captive, by the kiss that wasn't a kiss.

You could feel your mind slipping, like your thoughts were dissolving into the heat, into the darkness surrounding you. The invisible force—was it a presence? A shadow?—held you in place, guiding you, manipulating you, as if you were a puppet and it was pulling your strings.

But still, the sensation of being claimed lingered, you tried to focus, tried to break free, but it was no use. Every attempt only made you feel smaller, more powerless, like you were losing yourself bit by bit.

Was this what it wanted?

Your body didn’t feel like your own anymore. It felt... distant. Detached. Like you were a spectator in your own skin, watching as the thing—whatever it was—wove its tendrils around you.

Just as the world around you seemed to fade, a distant whisper echoed through the fog of your mind:

"Mine now."

The words wrapped around you like a heavy chain, pulling tighter and tighter until you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t even feel the floor beneath you anymore.

You were slipping away, your body fading into nothingness, held together only by the force that had claimed you.

"Mine forever."

--

When you woke up, it wasn’t like any other morning. You felt... tired. Groggy, and exhausted. As you stretched, you looked around the room, everything exactly as you left it, nothing unusual. It felt normal.

When you arrived at school, you couldn’t focus. The lessons droned on, but your mind kept wandering. You couldn't shake the feeling from last night. There was a gnawing curiosity deep inside you, a need to know what had happened, to make sense of it. You couldn’t just ignore it—your body wasn’t the same.

You pulled out your laptop in the middle of class, and you typed furiously. Your fingers flew over the keys, searching for any explanation that made sense, some kind of rational answer.

You found nothing but chaos.

The results were all over the place: demons, rituals, ghosts, whispers about curses and creatures from myths, things you thought only existed in horror stories. At first, you dismissed it. This can’t be real, you told yourself. But the deeper you went, the more it all seemed... possible.

And then you found it.

Incubus demons.

Your stomach twisted as you read more. The descriptions, the encounters—everything fit too perfectly. A demon, often seductive, one that could manipulate dreams, feed off your energy, entwine itself with you in the most intimate of ways. It would drain you slowly, filling you with warmth, with need, until it had you completely. Some even said an incubus could bind you to them—forever.

You felt a shiver creep down your spine. Was this what had happened to you? Could it be real? Could the thing you felt, the presence that had been with you, be an incubus?

The deeper you read, the more it made sense. The powerlessness, the way you felt unable to stop it, to resist. The hunger, the overwhelming desire. You couldn’t imagine it. You couldn't dream it.

You were still lost in thought as the bell rang, signaling the end of class. You gathered your things mechanically, your mind still reeling from the unsettling information you had uncovered. The words about incubus demons echoed in your head, each sentence making you feel more and more trapped.

As you packed your bag, your hand brushed against something unfamiliar. A cold chill ran through you, and your stomach dropped. You froze for a second, staring at your bag with a creeping sense of dread. Slowly, you opened it, and your eyes widened.

The book.

The crimson-red book. The one you had thrown out the window, the one you’d left behind—it was here, in your bag.

Your heart hammered in your chest, your fingers trembling as you touched the book. It was impossible. How could it be here? You distinctly remembered tossing it out, watching it fall to the ground outside your window. You’d even seen it land on the grass—it couldn’t have just come back.

A deep sense of dread filled your chest as your fingers slowly curled around the cover. You could feel the pull of it again, that same suffocating desire that called to you, whispered to you.

You quickly closed the bag, as if hiding it would make it go away.

How... how was this possible?

Your mind raced, trying to piece it together, but there was no logical explanation. The book had been thrown out. It shouldn’t be here.

And yet, it was.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t in control anymore.

Something was toying with you.

You had just sat down in your next class, trying to focus, but your mind kept wandering. How was it possible? What was happening to you? You barely noticed when the seat beside you shifted, and someone sat down, pulling you out of your spiraling thoughts.

You turned your head instinctively, and your breath caught in your throat.

He was... stunning.

Tall, with sharp features and thick eyebrows that gave him an almost commanding presence. A few moles dotted his face, and his eyes were dark, almost mesmerizing, in a way which made your heart race in a way that felt unnatural.

But what really made your stomach flutter was the fact that you’d never seen him before.

Was he in this class?

You racked your brain, trying to recall if you had ever noticed him in the hallways or anywhere else on campus, but nothing came to mind.

He seemed to notice you staring at him, and a sly smile tugged at his lips. He leaned a bit closer, as if he didn’t mind the attention at all, his voice smooth and confident when he spoke.

"Hey, you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

You blinked, caught off guard by the casualness of his tone. "Uh, yeah, I'm fine."

He chuckled softly, and you felt a strange sensation wash over you, like he was exactly where he was supposed to be. It was unsettling, but you couldn't quite pinpoint why.

"I'm Sunghoon. Park Sunghoon," he said, his smile widening slightly.

You blinked again, now fully aware of how close he was. "Oh, uh, nice to meet you."

You forced a smile, but your heart was beating too fast. There was something about him, something that felt off—but also familiar.

Why did it feel like he already knew you?

The class went by as usual, the minutes dragging on in a haze. Sunghoon didn't speak much after you introducing yourself, but every now and then, you'd catch him glancing at you, his dark eyes glimmering with something you couldn't quite place. You tried to ignore the unease creeping up your spine and focused on the lesson.

By the time class ended, you were relieved to be able to leave. You needed some time to clear your head.

--

When you arrived at the library, you clocked in and slid behind the counter, but quickly growing bored, you leaned forward and opened the computer, deciding to look up something to distract you. You typed in "demon books," half expecting it to pull up some weird conspiracy theory, but to your surprise, a result popped up. There was a book, right there in the archives—on demons.

Your curiosity flared. This was what you needed.

You grabbed a pen and jotted down the shelf number before heading to the stacks. When you arrived, your eyes searched the shelves, scanning for the number you’d written down. There it was—just out of reach. The book you wanted sat high on the shelf, taunting you. You stretched on your toes, reaching as far as you could, but it was no use. You could feel the frustration rising as you considered your options.

As you were about to give up and turn away, a hand shot up from behind you, effortlessly reaching the book and pulling it down.

You turned around, heart skipping a beat. There, standing just behind you, was Sunghoon. He held the book you had been struggling to get, his expression unreadable.

“Need this?” he asked, his voice casual, almost too smooth.

You blinked, your breath catching in your throat. Something about the way he said that sent a strange shiver down your spine. It was as if he knew exactly what you were searching for, as if he had been waiting for you to look it up.

“Thanks,” you said, taking the book from him, but your hand brushed against his for a moment longer than necessary. A jolt of electricity shot through you, and you quickly pulled your hand away, your face flushing.

“No problem,” he replied smoothly, his eyes twinkling. “Figured you needed a little help.”

You watched him disappear into the rows of books, and the unease from earlier returned, settling deep into your bones.

--

You don’t even realize what you've walked into, do you? Your deliciousness is like a siren's song, luring me in, and I am a lost soul, destined to follow. I've got you now, and I won't let you go. I'll devour every last piece of you, leaving no part untouched, for you're a feast that I'll savor forever.

Your beauty, it's like a spell, casting a shadow over my heart, and I want to take and take, until you give me everything, for I crave the taste of your soul, the essence of your being.

I think of your skin, smooth as silk, and how it feels under my touch. I imagine the taste of your lips, sweet like nectar, and how they'd satisfy my every craving. I envision your body, and how it yields to my every caress.

I'll trace the map of your body with my hands, my lips, and my heart, marking every inch as my own.

I'll feast on your lips, kiss by kiss, until my soul is satiated. I'll drink from the well of your desire, quench my thirst, and be nourished by your passion. I'll explore the depths of your pleasure, discover the peaks of your ecstasy.

And when I've had my fill, my sweet, I'll still want more. For you're an endless ocean, a bottomless pit of pleasure, and I can never quench my thirst. I'll always want to dive deeper, explore further, and discover more.

--

You stared at the book in your hands as you made your way back to the counter. And once you sat behind the counter, you placed the book down in front of you, the sound of the pages flipping echoing softly in the quiet library.

You opened the book, the musty scent of old pages filling your nose as you began flipping through it, scanning the words and images. Each page was filled with descriptions of various demons, their powers, their origins, and their terrifying abilities. But you kept your focus, searching for the section you had come here for.

Incubus demons.

When you finally reached the right section, your heart pounded in your chest. The words jumped off the page, unsettlingly familiar. It was like the book was confirming everything you had felt and the more you read, the clearer it became that this was no coincidence.

Incubi, it said, were demons who thrived on energy—specifically life force. They were known to seduce their victims, using dreams, lust, and an overwhelming need for intimacy to drain them. They were powerful, manipulating their prey until they were completely drained, their energy absorbed by the demon.

But what caught your eye was the last part.

"Once an incubus claims someone, it forms a bond—one that cannot be easily broken. The victim becomes a vessel, their soul linked to the demon’s for eternity."

You froze, a cold shiver crawling down your spine. Eternity. Was that what had happened to you? Had you unknowingly made a pact with something otherworldly?

You could feel your pulse quicken as your mind raced. Had you been claimed by the demon? Was it already too late to turn back?

You closed the book abruptly, the sound of it thudding against the counter loudly. You couldn’t breathe. Your stomach twisted, and for a brief moment, you thought you might collapse right there.

Just then, you heard a voice, soft but clear, cutting through the storm of thoughts in your head.

"Are you okay?"

You looked up, startled, and saw Sunghoon standing there, a stack of books in his hands. His eyes were searching your face, brows furrowed in concern.

"Uh... yeah, I’m fine," you stammered, trying to act normal. But you could feel the flush creeping up your neck, the words of the book still fresh in your mind. You quickly gathered your composure and grabbed the books from him, trying to distract yourself from the overwhelming feelings swirling inside you.

You ran the books through the system, scanning the barcodes one by one, all the while acutely aware of how close Sunghoon was standing.

As you glanced down at the books, you couldn't help but notice the titles—all of them were romance novels. It felt... strange. You glanced back at Sunghoon, trying to read his expression.

"Romance, huh?" you said, attempting to make small talk as you finished scanning the last one. "Didn’t peg you for someone into these kinds of books."

He chuckled softly, a low, smooth sound that made your heart skip again. "I’m not really. But, you know, sometimes it's good to pretend."

You blinked, unsure if you were reading too much into the comment. His smile didn’t help—he always had that air of mystery, like he was saying something and nothing at the same time.

"Thanks for helping with the book earlier," you added, trying to steer the conversation back to something neutral. "I appreciate it."

He shrugged, grabbing the books from on the counter. "No problem. Just looking out for you."

The way he said it sent a chill down your spine. It felt like more than just a casual statement. Like he knew something you didn’t. Something you didn’t want to know.

You tried to push the feeling down. You had to stay focused. "Anything else you need?" you asked, attempting to keep things professional.

Sunghoon just smiled again, that strange glimmer in his eyes never fading. "For now, no," he said, his tone teasing. "But I’ll be around."

--

When your shift finally ended, the night had already settled in, the streets now cast in shadows. You clutched your bag tightly as you walked, each step feeling heavier than the last.

Eventually, you found yourself at the bridge, standing on the edge, the water below reflecting the lights.

You opened your bag, pulling out the crimson red book, the one you had tried so desperately to get rid of. As you held it, you could feel something radiating from it—a pull, tempting you to keep it, to keep following.

You shook, unable to tear your gaze away from the book, as if it were alive, trying to draw you into its dark power. What had happened to you? What had you gotten yourself into?

A cold sweat broke out along your spine, and for a moment, you thought you might lose control. With trembling hands, you lifted the book to toss it into the water, ready to rid yourself of it once and for all.

But just as you were about to throw it off the bridge, you heard a voice behind you, low and rough.

"Hey," the voice called out, sending a shiver down your spine.

You froze, heart pounding in your chest. Slowly, you turned around.

Standing there was a man—a stranger. His features were sharp, his eyes narrowed in a way that made your stomach turn. There was something off about him, something unsettling in the way he watched you. His gaze was degrading, as if he had already sized you up.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing out here alone?" he asked, his voice slithering through the air.

You instinctively took a step back, clutching the book tighter in your hands, there was no mistaking the way his eyes lingered on you, his stare lingering a little too long.

His lips twisted into a grin, and it made your blood run cold. "You don't look like you're in a hurry to leave."

His tone, that smile—everything about him screamed danger, your heart thudded loudly in your chest as you fought the urge to run, but your feet felt rooted to the spot.

Your breath caught in your throat as the man took a step toward you, his hand reaching out with an unsettling determination. This was it. He was going to—

Suddenly, there was a sharp thud, and the man was thrown backward, crashing to the ground with a pained grunt.

You gasped, startled, and watched in disbelief as a familiar figure stepped besides you.

Sunghoon.

Without hesitation, he lunged at the man, throwing a fist that landed with a sickening crack against the stranger’s face. The man tried to scramble to his feet, but Sunghoon was relentless, his fists moving with precision, each punch landing harder than the last. You could hear the force of each strike, the sound of flesh hitting bone. The man barely had a chance to defend himself, crumpling beneath the force of Sunghoon’s blows.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away, transfixed by the brutal scene before you. There was something terrifyingly powerful about Sunghoon right now, his movements were swift and calculated, as if he were punishing the man for something more than just the assault on you.

Your hands shook as you held the book tighter to your chest, you didn’t know why, but it felt like it was alive, pulsing in your grip.

The book was vibrating, faintly at first, but then stronger, almost as though it was purring, responding to the violence — to you.

You ignored it, trying to focus on what was happening in front of you. Sunghoon wasn’t stopping, his anger mounting with each punch.

The man on the ground groaned, clearly dazed, unable to defend himself. Finally, Sunghoon stopped, standing over the man, his breath coming in heavy, measured gasps.

"You shouldn’t have done that," Sunghoon said, his voice low and dangerous, his gaze unwavering. He turned to look at you, eyes locking with yours.

You were still frozen, your heart pounding in your chest, and you couldn’t make sense of it all. The way Sunghoon was acting, the way he looked at you—it was like he wasn’t the same person you’d met in the library. This was someone else.

"Are you okay?" he asked, voice softer now, though there was still a sharpness to it.

You nodded, though your voice felt stuck in your throat. You couldn’t even find the words to thank him, or to ask why he’d come out of nowhere to help you. Why was he here?

Sunghoon glanced down at the man on the ground, his expression unreadable, before he turned to you again, taking a step closer.

"You’re safe now," he said, his voice more comforting this time, though the intensity never fully left his gaze.

Your hands trembled as you clutched the book tighter, trying to shake off the strange feeling it was giving you.

Sunghoon’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his eyes scanning you before he helped you steady yourself.

“You’re okay,” he repeated, his tone lighter, he glanced at the book in your hands, and that smile of his grew, just slightly, as if pleased.

He led you away from the bridge, the cool night air now feeling heavy around you. His presence beside you was comforting, but at the same time, you couldn’t ignore the sense that he was guiding you in more ways than one.

You looked up at him, and he caught your gaze, his smile widening ever so slightly. "Seems like you’ve taken quite the interest in that," he said, his voice soft but with an edge you couldn’t quite place. "You’re holding it tightly."

Your fingers ached as you continued to clutch the book to your chest, your heart still hammering from the encounter. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, too overwhelmed by everything that had happened.

"You shouldn’t have to worry anymore," he said, his voice lowering. “You’re safe now.”

Then why did something not feel right? Sunghoon was far too calm, too understanding. As if he already knew everything—everything that had been happening to you.

The way he looked at you, like he was watching, waiting for something.

And for the first time, you realized something that made your stomach twist in unease.

He wasn’t just helping you.

He was guiding you.

--

The moment you stepped through the door of your apartment, you immediately noticed it. The book was still pressed against your chest, and for the first time, it felt almost suffocating. You hadn’t even realized how tightly you had been holding onto it the entire time—your knuckles white. It was like it had become a part of you, and that realization twisted something deep within your gut.

You couldn't stand it anymore.

Without even thinking, you hurled the book against the wall, your heart racing as the impact caused it to thud loudly, the book sliding to the floor. The sound echoed in the quiet apartment, and you could feel your breath catch in your throat, as if your body had finally caught up to the chaos inside your mind.

For a moment, there was silence. The book lay on the floor, the cover staring up at you, as if mocking your decision. But you were too exhausted to care anymore. Too worn out by everything that had happened.

You stumbled fowards, your legs giving way, and before you knew it, you were sinking onto the couch. Your mind was foggy, too tired to think. Your body ached, your head pounded, but the exhaustion was overpowering. The last thing you saw before your eyes fluttered shut was the book, sitting on the floor.

And the only thing you could think of as you drifted off was how you felt that it wasn’t done with you yet.

--

You felt so... relaxed? It was like your body was weightless, wrapped in warmth and comfort. The air was thick, almost too hot, and the bed beneath you felt too soft, like sinking into a cloud. You opened your eyes slowly, blinking at the unfamiliar ceiling above you. A grand queen-sized bed stretched out beneath you, luxurious sheets tangled around your legs.

Your head was still foggy, like you were waking from a deep, dreamless sleep. But the discomfort of the heat around you was immediate, and you instinctively pushed the covers away, trying to breathe through the thick air.

That’s when you felt it.

A weight on your body, pressing down, holding you where you lay. Your breath hitched as the sensation of someone’s lips—warm, urgent—pressed against yours. The shock of it made your chest tighten, and you gasped, eyes wide as you tried to push the figure off of you, only to find you couldn’t move.

A voice, soft but laced with something darker, echoed in your mind, almost like a whisper, “Give in.”

Your body stiffened, the words familiar yet chilling. The lips on yours were insistent, coaxing you into submission. You couldn't understand—how did you get here? Why was everything so warm? And why did you feel this strange pull?

The kiss deepened as your breath quickened, and the moment your hands tried to reach above you, they tightened their grip. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t think.

You wanted to push away. You wanted to scream. But you couldn’t. You were trapped in this sensation, helpless.

You felt so good. So pleasant. Every part of you hummed with a warmth, an overwhelming comfort, like sinking into the softest dream. But with it came an exhaustion, a draining weariness you couldn't fight.

As the lips moved from your mouth down to your jaw, trailing soft, slow kisses, you felt your body go limp beneath them. You tried to stay alert, to keep your mind sharp, but the sensation was too much. The warmth, the pleasure, it was like it was melting you from the inside out. Your energy, your strength, seemed to vanish with every kiss, every press of lips against your sensitive skin. You couldn't fight it. It felt too good.

A small gasp escaped your lips as they moved lower, their touch leaving a trail of warmth on your neck, then your collarbone. The sensation was both soothing and dizzying, like you were drifting between wakefulness and sleep. You felt so tired, but the pleasure pulling you under kept you from fully giving in.

Your heartbeat thudded in your ears, quickening with each new kiss, each lingering touch. The sound of your breath was louder than the rest of the world, but even that was fading. You could barely hold onto your thoughts, the desire to move, to push, slipped further and further away.

And then you realized—there was nothing you could do. You didn’t want to.

You felt something deep inside you stir, a craving, a hunger that matched the pull of the lips against your skin. You were being drained, yes, but it also felt like it was what you needed.

You closed your eyes, surrendering to it. You let your body go, let the exhaustion wash over you, let yourself fall into the warmth of the kiss. You didn’t even care where it was leading anymore.

You felt your body give in completely as the lips on your neck paused, lingering there, and you could hear the soft hum of approval, a low sound of satisfaction. And just like that, it was too late to resist.

As you surrendered to the moment, the hands, ever so gently, pushed your shirt up, exposing more of your skin, as the heat in the room seemed to rise.

The lips, now free to explore, trailed kisses down your stomach, his tongue teasing the sensitive skin there. His hands slid down to your waist, he squeezed gently, pulling you closer, and you felt his body press against yours.

You didn’t want to fight it anymore. Your body was giving in, responding to him, reacting in ways you couldn't fully comprehend. It was as though you were caught in a web, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

His lips moved from your neck, tracing the sensitive line of your jaw before they found your lips again, kissing you. The kiss was hungry now, deeper. You felt his hands tighten around you, as though he couldn’t get close enough, as though you were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

And somehow, it felt... right.

You felt so hazy, your mind clouded by a warm, soothing fog that made it impossible to think clearly. Everything was blurred, all thoughts slipping through your fingers like sand. The weight of your body felt distant, like you were floating. You couldn’t move your limbs, couldn’t even feel them anymore.

The only thing you could focus on was the feeling of the lips that pressed gently against yours, warm and insistent. Every time they left, it felt like you were waiting, craving the return of that contact. And when they did, you kissed them back instinctively, your lips parting slightly to welcome them.

"Let go," it murmured softly, the sound of it like silk against your mind. "Enjoy this. Let the pleasure take over. You deserve it."

You shivered, feeling the warmth of the words settle deep inside you, pushing aside any lingering doubts, any hesitation. The voice continued, coaxing you, convincing you that this feeling, this moment, was all that mattered. That you didn’t need to resist, that you could simply surrender and feel everything without fear.

There was no fight left in you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt completely at peace. You didn’t have to think, you didn’t have to worry— just the feeling of being taken care of, loved, and wanted.

You closed your eyes, lost in the comfort, the warmth, and the voice that guided you deeper into the haze.

--

You woke up suddenly, your mind heavy, still clouded in a haze, and found yourself lying on the couch. You blinked, trying to shake off the fog, and as you looked around, everything seemed perfectly normal.

One thing wasn't normal, though. It was the warmth, the sticky, almost suffocating heat clinging to your skin, like honey trapping you in its sweetness. The sensation was odd, and it was paired with an exhaustion that weighed you down, a tiredness so deep you could barely keep your eyes open.

You managed to sit up and push yourself to your feet, dragging yourself to the bathroom, needing to see your reflection, needing to understand what was happening. The mirror greeted you with an unexpected shock.

Your neck and collarbone were covered in marks—deep, almost bruised-looking impressions, some faint, others dark, like someone had pressed their lips into your skin too hard, leaving their mark. You barely recognized the face staring back at you. Your cheeks were flushed, the kind of flush you’d never get from just a long day, and your eyes looked distant.

You kept staring at your reflection, eyes wide in disbelief, and slowly pulled your shirt off, but what greeted you beneath your clothes made your breath catch in your throat.

Handprints. Dark, unmistakable imprints stretched across your waist, your hips, and even down to your thighs. It was like someone had gripped you there with force, leaving their mark on your skin, as if they couldn’t resist claiming every part of you.

You stood there, frozen, trying to make sense of what you were seeing. The more you looked, the more it seemed to confirm your theory.

An incubus had done this.

But the memories were murky, like a dream fading in the light of day. You couldn't remember the specifics, but the evidence was undeniable.

You were cursed.

The thought sent a shiver through your body. There was no other explanation. It was all pointing to something beyond your control, something that wanted you, that had claimed you.

But what did it want from you? Why you?

The mirror reflected your confusion, your unease, and your disbelief. Your hand instinctively reached up to touch the marks, your fingers brushing lightly over your skin. Each touch sent a wave of heat through you, a reminder that something was still there, still affecting you, even when you had no idea what was really going on.

--

Days passed in a strange blur after that. Each time you tried to focus, tried to pull yourself together, the exhaustion dragged you down further. You couldn’t remember when it had started, when your body began to feel like it was no longer your own, but it was now a part of your reality. Every night, you’d find yourself drifting off to sleep, only to wake up once again in that grand bed, under the same warmth, your body burning.

The familiar sensation of lips on yours, the heat of his hands—each kiss drained you, leaving you weak and confused. It felt as though the very life force was being sucked out of you, but you were too tired to resist. Too tired to care. The next morning, you would wake up again, just as exhausted, with the marks on your skin deepening, the imprint of his touch still there. You tried to push through the haze, but it felt like you were walking through quicksand.

And then there was Sunghoon.

He was there for you in ways you couldn’t explain. It started small—offering to walk you to class, making sure you ate something, checking in on you when you seemed too tired to function. You didn’t fight it. You were too exhausted to.

You would often find yourself slumped at the counter, fighting to keep your eyes open, and there he was, showing up with something to drink or a comforting word, offering you a brief respite from the overwhelming fatigue that seemed to cling to your every movement. You didn’t realize at first that you were relying on him, leaning on him without question.

But Sunghoon didn’t mind. In fact, he thrived in this new dynamic, in your dependence on him. He reveled in the way you’d look to him for comfort, for answers, for protection. You didn’t know how much it fed into his desires, how much he enjoyed being the one to offer you care, to have you rely on him completely.

And you? You were too tired to notice. Too lost in the fog of exhaustion, the haze of what was happening to you.

But.. the more time you spent with Sunghoon, the more you began to notice the oddities that you’d once brushed off. He was always there, always watching, always making sure you were okay. But something about him felt... off. It wasn’t just his constant attention—it was the way he seemed to know exactly what you needed, before you even asked for it. It was the way his gaze lingered on you just a little too long, his smile a little too knowing, like he was seeing something in you that no one else did.

Then, there was the issue with his past. Sunghoon never spoke about it. When you asked about his family or where he grew up, his answers were vague, brushing off the topic with a quick change of subject. No traces of a life outside of the moments he spent with you.

It didn’t make sense. You had seen him around campus, so you knew he wasn’t a complete ghost. But there were no photos, no friends tagging him on social media, no history to trace. He was just... there. As if he had stepped out of nowhere and appeared in your life, and now he was all you could focus on.

Something about him felt wrong, and the pieces were starting to fall into place. But you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning on him, allowing him to take care of you. You didn’t know what to think anymore, especially since you were so tired, so lost in the fog of exhaustion that you couldn’t tell if your thoughts were your own or if they were being influenced by something else.

So, you decided to test your theory—to see what would happen if you suddenly started ignoring him. It wasn’t easy. Sunghoon always seemed to find a way to be around you, whether it was sitting next to you in class or showing up at the library while you worked. But you were determined. You stopped texting him back, avoided his gaze, and made excuses to leave whenever he tried to engage you in conversation.

At first, he didn’t seem bothered by it. He would simply smile when you dodged him, as if he already knew why you were doing it. That unnerved you more than anything else. It was like he could see right through you, like he knew your thoughts before you did.

But as the days went on, his demeanor started to shift. His smiles became tighter, his gaze colder, and the once-comforting presence he exuded started to feel suffocating. He wasn’t following you outright, but every time you turned a corner, you’d catch him in your peripheral vision—leaning against a wall, walking just a few steps behind you, always near enough to remind you that he was there.

One night, after a particularly long shift at the library, you came home and collapsed onto your couch, exhaustion washing over you. The moment you closed your eyes, you found yourself back in that bed again.

But this time, there was a whisper. A deep, seductive voice you hadn’t heard before.

"You can’t ignore me forever."

Your eyes snapped open, your heart pounding. You were back on your couch, drenched in sweat, and your hands were trembling. You instinctively gripped the edge of the couch as you tried to ground yourself, but the tremor in your fingers betrayed how shaken you really were. The room was quiet—too quiet. It felt as though something was watching you, just out of sight.

Your gaze darted toward the windows, scanning for any sign of movement, but the curtains were still drawn shut. Slowly, you reached for your phone on the coffee table, wanting the comfort of a light, a distraction—anything. As the screen lit up, you noticed the time. 3:03 a.m.

And then you saw it.

A single notification. It wasn’t from anyone in your contacts, just an unknown number. You hesitated before opening it, dread settling in your stomach like a lead weight. The message read:

"Stop running."

You dropped the phone as though it had burned you, the clatter breaking the suffocating silence. Your breaths came shallow and quick as you stared at the device, afraid it would light up again.

No. This had to stop.

You pushed yourself off the couch and stumbled to the bathroom, your legs weak beneath you. Splashing cold water on your face, you tried to steady your breathing.

You gripped the edge of the sink, your knuckles turning white as you leaned forward, staring at your pale reflection in the mirror. Your breaths came shallow and uneven as you tried to process everything.

It didn’t make sense—none of it did. But your thoughts kept circling back to Sunghoon. His perfect timing, his uncanny presence, the way he seemed to know more than he let on.

Your throat felt dry as you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to say it.

“Sunghoon?”

The sound of his name echoed faintly in the small bathroom. You waited, holding your breath, your heart pounding louder and louder in your chest. Nothing happened.

For a moment, you felt ridiculous, like you were spiraling into paranoia. You let out a shaky exhale and closed your eyes, trying to collect yourself. But then, just as you started to relax, you felt it.

A heat began to radiate behind you, warm and heavy, pressing against your back like a presence. The air shifted, and before you could react, a soft whisper brushed against your ear.

“Did you miss me?”

Your eyes snapped open, wide with terror, as you froze in place. The mirror reflected nothing behind you, but the heat remained, and the voice lingered, teasingly low and intimate.

“Y-you’re not real,” you stammered, gripping the sink tighter, refusing to turn around.

The voice chuckled, soft and amused. “Oh, but I am. You called me, didn’t you? Thinking of me? Dreaming of me?”

A shiver ran down your spine as the warmth seemed to creep closer, pressing against you like an invisible embrace. You gasped, your knees threatening to buckle under the weight of whatever was behind you.

“I-I wasn’t—”

“Liar,” the voice interrupted, a trace of playfulness in its tone. “You’ve been looking for answers, haven’t you?”

You felt something brush against your shoulder, light as a feather but enough to make your skin tingle. Your breathing quickened as the sensation spread, leaving you dizzy and disoriented.

“Stop,” you whispered, your voice shaking.

But the voice only hummed in response, low and pleased. “You can’t run from me. You’ve known that all along.”

“I never wanted this!” you shouted, your voice trembling but firm, defiance breaking through your fear. “I didn’t ask for any of this!”

The air around you grew colder, and suddenly a hand—a firm, invisible grip—wrapped around your throat. You gasped, your hands flying up instinctively to claw at nothing.

“Oh, but you did,” the voice purred, smooth and dark, vibrating through the room. The grip on your throat tightened just enough to make your pulse race, but not enough to harm you. It was a warning.

“You put this on yourself the moment you read the words in that book,” the voice hissed, hot breath fanning over your ear. “Qui me legit, fiat noster ligamen aeternum. Do you even know what that means?”

You shook your head frantically, tears pricking at your eyes as you struggled against the phantom hand holding you in place. The voice chuckled, low and condescending.

“It means, ‘Who reads me, let our bond be eternal.’ You invited me in.”

Your breath hitched as the words hit you like a punch to the gut. The book. The book in the basement. The words you read aloud.

“That’s not possible,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “It’s just a stupid book. It—it can’t be real!”

The laughter that followed was sharp, almost mocking. “Oh, it’s very real. And now, so am I.”

In the mirror, the reflection began to change. The shadow behind you shifted, growing more defined, more solid. Your eyes widened in horror as the silhouette morphed, taking shape, and then—

There he was.

Sunghoon.

Your heart stopped. You couldn’t believe it, but there was no mistaking him. The sharp jawline, the intense gaze, the faint smirk curling his lips. It was him.

Sunghoon stood behind you, his hand still firmly around your throat, his touch searing and impossible to ignore. His other hand came to rest lightly on your waist, and you shivered under the weight.

“Surprise,” he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement as his eyes locked with yours in the mirror.

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head, panic rising in your chest. “This— you’re not—”

“Not what?” Sunghoon interrupted, tilting his head as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Not human? Not the man who’s been taking care of you? Or not the one who’s been in your dreams, night after night?”

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. The pieces were falling into place, but they painted a picture you didn’t want to see.

“You were so lonely,” Sunghoon continued, his voice softer now, almost tender. “So desperate for someone to understand you. And I came to you, didn’t I? Gave you exactly what you needed.”

His hand on your waist tightened slightly, his grip on your throat loosening just enough for you to take a shaky breath.

“But you’re scared now. Why?” he asked, his tone almost teasing, as if he already knew the answer. “You’ve enjoyed this, haven’t you? The attention, the way I’ve made you feel.”

“No,” you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper. “You tricked me. This isn’t what I wanted.”

Sunghoon’s smirk widened, his reflection in the mirror impossibly calm, his eyes glinting with something dark and dangerous.

“You can lie to yourself all you want,” he said, his tone almost pitying. “But you can’t lie to me.”

“We’re bound now, you and I,” he whispered, his voice soft but laced with finality. “You can’t run from me. You can’t hide. And deep down, you don’t want to.”

You stared at him in the mirror, your chest heaving, your mind screaming for you to fight back, to do something, anything. But your body betrayed you, frozen in place as Sunghoon’s reflection smiled, dark and triumphant.

His grip tightened around your arms as he suddenly spun you around effortlessly, your back slamming against the cold countertop. A sharp gasp escaped your lips as the impact sent a jolt through your body, and you found yourself face to face with him.

Only... it wasn’t entirely him.

Your breath hitched, eyes widening as you took in his appearance. Sunghoon was still the same—his sharp features, his impossibly handsome face—but now, his true form was on full display.

Two curved, jet-black horns protruded from his head, his ears were pointed, inhumanly sharp, twitching slightly as though attuned to every sound you made. A pair of massive, leathery wings stretched out behind him. His skin held a faint reddish tint now, and his eyes...

They weren’t what you’d grown accustomed to.

They were blood-red, burning with an intensity that made your knees weak.

As your gaze traveled lower, you caught sight of a sleek black tail swishing behind him, the pointed tip moving back and forth like a serpent poised to strike.

“Like what you see?” Sunghoon asked, his voice low and smooth, laced with amusement.

You couldn’t answer. Your lips parted, but no sound came out as you stared up at him, utterly frozen. He leaned in closer, the heat radiating from him making it even harder to think, to breathe.

“You should’ve known,” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “You should’ve felt it. I’ve been hiding in plain sight this whole time, waiting for you to figure it out.”

“Sunghoon...” you finally managed to whisper, your voice trembling as you tried to push him away, but your arms felt like they were moving through water—slow, weak, powerless.

He chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that sent heat flooding through your chest. “Still clinging to the illusion, huh? Poor thing.”

His hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek with an almost tender touch.

“This is the real me,” he said softly, his voice dripping with dangerous charm. “And now that you’ve seen it, there’s no going back.” His wings shifted slightly behind him, the sound making your stomach twist in unease. His tail flicked once, curling against your leg in a way that made your skin crawl—and, to your shame, sent a strange warmth pooling in your chest.

“You’re lying,” you said weakly, your voice barely audible. “This isn’t happening...”

Sunghoon tilted his head, his expression softening just enough to make it even more unsettling. “Lying?” he repeated, his voice almost offended. “Sweet thing, everything I’ve done has been the truth. You just didn’t want to see it.”

He leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours, his red eyes locking onto yours with a hypnotic intensity. “But now you can’t ignore it, can you? You can’t ignore me.”

You gasped, your body trembling as his tail coiled tighter around your leg, holding you in place. “You belong to me now,” Sunghoon whispered, his voice final. “And nothing will change that.”

You clenched your eyes shut, your entire body trembling as you willed it all to disappear. You thought maybe—just maybe—if you denied it long enough, it would go away. That he would go away.

But it didn’t work.

Instead, you heard his low, amused chuckle. The sound was rich and dark, crawling into your ears and embedding itself into your mind.

“You can’t escape me,” he murmured. And before you could protest, his lips crashed against yours, stealing your breath and overwhelming your senses.

The kiss was searing, a fire that burned its way through your body and left you paralyzed. It wasn’t soft or careful—it was commanding, leaving no room for resistance.

Sunghoon...

Sunghoon was an incubus.

Your mind screamed at you to push him away, to fight, but your body wouldn’t listen. The warmth from his lips spread through you like molten lava, making you weak, making you feel... good. Too good.

You tried to turn your head, to break the connection, but his hand gripped your jaw firmly, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss. His lips moved against yours with a skill that made your knees feel like jelly, and the heat radiating off him felt almost suffocating.

When he finally pulled back, your head spun, your breaths shallow and uneven. His glowing red eyes locked onto yours, and you could see the satisfaction etched across his face.

“See?” he purred, his voice dripping with confidence. “You’re not resisting me.”

You shook your head weakly, trying to deny it. “You’re not... I won’t...” you stammered, but even as the words left your lips, they sounded hollow.

Sunghoon leaned down again, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “You already gave yourself to me the moment you opened that book.”

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you struggled to comprehend his words. You’d read the words without understanding what they meant, unknowingly binding yourself to him.

“You belong to me now,” he said, his voice soft but firm, his hand trailing down to rest on your waist. “No running. No escaping.”

His tail flicked lazily at his side, as if he were toying with you, enjoying your fear and confusion.

“I’ll take care of you,” Sunghoon continued, his tone shifting to something almost... tender. “You won’t need anyone else. You won’t want anyone else.”

You clenched your fists, trying to fight against the pull he had on you, the way his words seemed to seep into your mind like poison.

“What do you want from me?” you finally managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I already have what I want,” he said simply, his hand tilting your chin up so you couldn’t look away. “You.”

His hand slid up to your throat again, his grip firm but not enough to hurt—just enough to remind you who was in control. You gasped, your heart pounding in your chest as he leaned in, and before you could think or protest, his lips captured yours again.

This time, the kiss was more intense. It was intoxicating, a dizzying, heady sensation that left you feeling drunk and high at the same time, though there wasn’t a hint of nausea.

Instead, you felt consumed, like your body and mind were being submerged in a warm ocean. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that left you breathless.

Your hands gripped the edge of the bathroom counter behind you, trying to ground yourself, but the heat only grew. It curled in your stomach, spread up your spine, and flooded every corner of your being.

Sunghoon’s lips left yours only briefly, his breath hot against your skin as he kissed down your jaw, tracing a path to the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. “You feel it, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

You couldn’t respond, your head spinning, your body trembling. Every word he spoke seemed to sink into your skin, fusing with your very being.

He chuckled softly, his lips brushing over your ear. “No one else can make you feel like this. No one else can take care of you like I can.”

When he finally pulled back, his red eyes burned into yours, glowing with satisfaction.

“Say it,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your pulse. “Say you’re mine.”

You hesitated, your lips parting, but no words came out. Your mind was a swirling mess of emotions, torn between the primal pull he had over you and the small flicker of defiance still burning in your chest.

Sunghoon leaned closer, his smirk returning as he tilted your chin up slightly. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “You’ll say it soon enough.”

With that, he released you, stepping back just enough to let you breathe, though the heat still clung to your skin like a second layer. Your knees felt weak, your body trembling, and you gripped the counter to keep from collapsing.

“Rest for now,” he said, his tone almost affectionate. “We’ll see each other again soon.”

And with a flick of his tail and a low hum of satisfaction, he vanished, leaving you alone in the dimly lit bathroom, your body still warm and your mind reeling from what had just happened.

--

It didn’t take long for you to realize that Sunghoon’s persistence wasn’t just some fleeting infatuation—it was something far deeper. When an incubus claimed a human, it seemed, their desire turned into a relentless obsession. Sunghoon took every opportunity to have you, to pull you into the haze of his presence, leaving you breathless and weak in his wake.

In the library, you were shelving books in the far corner, but then, you felt it—the familiar warmth crawling up your spine. Before you could turn, his hands were on your waist, spinning you around and pressing you against the shelf.

“Sunghoon—” you started, but your words were cut off as his lips crashed against yours, desperate and hungry.

The books nearly toppled from the shelf as his body pinned you in place. His hands slid down to your thighs, gripping them tightly before lifting you up effortlessly, your back pressed to the shelf. His kisses left you dizzy, your hands clinging to his shoulders for balance as his lips trailed down your jaw, his voice low murmurs.

When he finally pulled back, you were breathless, your body trembling. He smiled, his red eyes glowing faintly. “Couldn’t help myself,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

In the kitchen, you thought you’d have a moment of peace as you cooked dinner, but of course, he appeared again.

You didn’t even hear him approach before his hands were on your waist, lifting you effortlessly onto the counter.

“Sunghoon!” you protested, but your voice wavered as his lips found yours, silencing any resistance.

His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them slightly as he stood between them, his kisses consuming. The heat of the stove was nothing compared to the fire he ignited in you with every touch.

“You taste better than anything you’re cooking,” he teased against your lips, as you shivered under his touch.

Even in class, he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off you. At first, it was subtle—a hand resting on your thigh under the desk. But his touch was anything but innocent. His fingers pressed into your skin, his grip firm enough to leave an imprint through the fabric of your jeans.

One day, you made the mistake of wearing a skirt to class. His reaction was immediate.

His eyes darkened the moment he saw you, his gaze lingering on your legs with a hunger. The skirt seemed to drive him wild, and he didn’t bother to hide the want in his eyes as he took the seat beside you.

During the lecture, his hand found its way to your thigh again, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles on your bare skin. Every touch sent shivers up your spine, your pulse quickening as his grip tightened slightly, his thumb brushing dangerously close to the hem of your skirt.

“You wore this for me, didn’t you?” he whispered, his voice low and teasing.

You didn’t answer, your face burning as you tried to focus on the professor’s voice. But Sunghoon wasn’t letting you off so easily. His hand slid higher, just enough to make you squirm in your seat.

By the end of class, you were a mess, your legs trembling as you tried to stand. Sunghoon, of course, looked perfectly composed.

But one event made you realize just how far Sunghoon's obsession had gone happened unexpectedly.

You had just finished getting ready, dressed to go out to the club, your outfit on point, and your makeup perfectly done. You were about to put on some music for the drive when suddenly, you heard a soft hum from behind you.

The sound was so familiar, so calming that you couldn’t help but pause. The familiar haze crept in, clouding your thoughts. Before you could even process what was happening, you felt a shift in your surroundings. The next thing you knew, you were no longer sitting in the front seat of your car but instead found yourself in the backseat, sitting on Sunghoon's lap.

“You going somewhere?” he asked, his voice smooth, leaning back, his eyes filled with contentment. He seemed to be enjoying the view of you on his lap, your body pressed against his, all dressed up.

You were about to move off, muttering to yourself about how utterly stupid this situation was.

However, before you could push him away, Sunghoon's hands went around your hips. He pulled you closer, his body pressing into yours, and then, with a sudden thrust, he lifted you off his lap.

The movement was unexpected, and it caught you off guard. You let out a surprised squeal as you found yourself being moved to lay down on the backseat. Sunghoon hovered over you, his body pressing down on yours, his eyes filled with a fiery passion.

You were on the brink of speaking, your mind filled with thoughts you wanted to express, when suddenly, Sunghoon's lips crashed down on yours, silencing your words in an instant.

His lips, soft yet demanding, devoured yours, a perfect blend of tenderness and dominance. Sunghoon groaned into the kiss, a deep, raw sound that reverberated through your core. His hands found their way to your waist, his fingers digging into your skin. And as his kiss deepened, you felt him wrap your legs around his hips. You could feel the heat of his body, the solidness of his muscles, and the intensity.

You felt a sudden urge to pull away, to regain some sense of control and composure. With a gentle push, you tried to create some distance between you and Sunghoon. But Sunghoon, ever attuned to your every move, wasn’t about to let you escape so easily. As you tried to shift, reaching for the car door, his hands swiftly grabbed your waist, his strong arms pulling you closer. His chest pressed against your back, and you turned your head, your breath quickening as Sunghoon leaned over, his face now inches from yours.

His voice, soft and teasing, broke through your thoughts. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, his tone low, almost playful.

You couldn’t find the words to answer, but you could feel the heat rising between you.

Sunghoon, sensing your hesitation, nuzzled his face against your neck, his breath warm against your skin. The soft touch of his lips traced a path along your neck, sending a jolt of warmth through you. You shivered at the sensation, unable to stop the flutter in your chest.

"Sunghoon..." you breathed, trying to push him away again, but his hands tightened around your waist. He didn’t let you move, holding you there.

He chuckled softly, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. “You want me to slow down?” he teased, his voice amused.

You swallowed hard, feeling the heat between you both. The car, once cool, now felt stifling, the air thick. You glanced over at the windows, noticing that the glass had fogged up, the condensation creeping in.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you tried to focus, but it was hard with him so near, his breath warm against your neck. You could feel him pressed against your back, his hands still holding you close.

“Sunghoon,” you whispered again, your voice barely a breath, caught between uncertainty and desire. You shifted slightly, trying to pull away, but he gently tugged you back, his lips hovering just above your ear.

“Why resist?” His voice was soft, almost a whisper, but there was an edge to it, a quiet demand. His lips brushed against your earlobe, sending another shiver down your spine. “We both know you don’t want to.”

The fog on the windows seemed to grow thicker, the air growing warmer with every passing second, as if the space between you was becoming smaller.

You didn’t answer him right away, just closing your eyes for a brief moment, trying to clear your mind.

But Sunghoon's voice broke the silence as he gazed at you. "You look perfect," he said, his eyes roving over your body, taking in every detail. "So delectable, it's as if you're offering yourself on a silver platter."

His hands, which had been resting on your waist, slowly slid downwards, tracing the curves of your hips with a gentle touch.

"I want to ruin your makeup," he said, his voice low. "I want to mark you as mine, to leave my touch on you."

His hands, which had been gently caressing your body, suddenly tightened around your hips. With a swift movement, he flipped you over, and you found yourself lying on your back, staring up at him with surprise.

"I want to look at you," he said, his voice low and intense. "I want to see your beautiful face, your eyes, your lips, as I kiss you."

His lips, soft yet demanding, pressed against yours, a perfect show of passion. His hands roamed freely, tracing the curves of your body. He cupped your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks, a gentle caress that sent a rush of pleasure through your body.

Guess this is what happens when you get claimed by an incubus in love.

a/n: well.. i have no other words. this had been sitting in my drafts for awhile so, yeah :)

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[star-sim]

show me how ☆ jake sim

☆ non-idol! jake x fem! reader ☆ summary: jake didn't think his casual crush on you, his hot coworker at the local ice cream parlor, would flourish into anything. but one day, after a power outage during a shift, the two of you are forced to huddle up together to keep warm, opening up many, many, many doors into your relationship. ice cream was sweet and soft. and despite your appearance, so were you. ☆ genre: coworkers to lovers, fluff, a lot of bickering, alternative! reader, jake is kind of a loser, rock references, nonchalant crushes, summer romance, baddie reader, JAKE IS JUST REALLY DOWN BAD ☆ warning(s)? slightly suggestive? just tbh its js jake being really attracted to you LOL ☆ word count: 12.3k ☆ joining @bywons 1k event for "show me how" by men i trust. i had a little bit of a different approach to crushes this time. this is extremely late im so sorry enjoy!

"Can I get uhhhhh…"

Jake deadpanned for the 15th time in the past hour.

He was trying to be kind, to be understanding, to be loving in all ways possible… He really was.

But was it that difficult to order a mint chocolate cone with rainbow sprinkles?!

Jake watched as the snotty child before him picked his nose, his eyes glazing over the menu. It’s been ten minutes and this kid was taking too long to order. For fuck’s sake, he was holding up the line!

For his summer job, Jake started working at the ice cream parlor near the pier. He thought it was a good idea, since the pay was above minimum wage and he liked ice cream.

Wrong!

It was horrible!

From rude customers to his asshole of a boss to his incompetent coworkers, Jake dreaded coming into work everyday.

It was another summer afternoon, where Jake slaved away for his corporate overlords. Summer was only kicking off, so the June gloom stuck like glue. This morning, there were already storm warnings, so imagine Jake's surprise when a whole bunch of people went to the beach today and the ice cream parlor next to it.

"Please take your time," Jake said with a tight-lipped smile. Translation: I’ve given you enough time, kid. Hurry up and order or I’ll actually snap.

The kid blinked at Jake, before picking his nose. "Can I get uhhhh…"

Jake winced, but forced a smile with a nod. "Would you like any recommendations?"

Translation: You better tip me, you little punk.

By now, he could see the angry mothers and kids at the back of the line, quietly complaining about the hold-up. All Jake could do was smile apologetically, hanging his head in embarrassment.

And to Jake's horror, as the snotty little kid was still deciding on what he wanted to order, Jake could hear the back door creaking open, followed by a "Bye, Jake!" before it slammed.

Did Jake ever say that he hated his coworkers?

Today wasn't even Jake's shift, but he had to cover three shifts, because his other coworkers couldn't give a damn. They loved to leave early because they knew that Jake would work his ass off either way. So here he was, now forced to run an entire ice cream parlor with already angry customers all by himself!

"Actually, I don't want anything," the snotty kid blinked at Jake. "Bye, mister."

With that, the kid left, oblivious to Jake's gawking face.

You've got to be kidding me.

If it weren't for the fact that his name tag had his name printed in big, thick letters and that there was already a line of impatient customers, Jake might have yelled.

As he put on his customer-service voice for the next customer in line, Jake could hear the back door creak open again if he listened past the generic pop music playing in the background.

And the moment that he heard a familiar voice, Jake nearly ascended into the sky.

"Jake, I'm here!"

There was only one part of working at this dinky little ice cream parlor that Jake liked.

And it was you.

His savior, you.

You were the only coworker that actually did your work. In fact, you went above and beyond. The only shifts that seemed to be productive on all ends were when it was you and Jake.

If he could recall correctly, today wasn't your scheduled shift either. You were probably covering someone's shift like him, too.

And plus, you were cute.

Really cute.

Jake never really thought he had a "type" when it came to girls. In fact, Jake couldn't even remember the last time he had a crush. But the moment he saw your smudged eyeliner, constant annoyed look, the multiple tassel and charm bracelets on your wrists, and your black nail polish, he knew that you were his type.

You looked like you could probably scare a baby with a single look. Honestly, you could make Jake piss himself with a single look, too. And for some reason, he liked it. A lot. Which was weird.

Within seconds of just arriving, you were already throwing on your apron, fixing up your work uniform before appearing at the counter, ready to do your fucking job.

Jake tried his best to focus on the group of middle schoolers who giggled over every word as they ordered their ice cream, but even from behind him, he could hear you cleaning one of the scoopers and getting the keys for the second cash register. Even though all you were doing was your job, Jake couldn't help but straighten up his posture and run a hand through his hair as you took the register beside him. Just in case you spared him a glance, he had to look his best.

"Hi, what can I get you?" you said chirpily, putting on your best customer-service voice, something that Jake could tell was not your forte. Although he didn't know you seriously, he's had conversations in passing with you, whether it be on slow days, during breaks, or as the two of you closed up the parlor together. You never sounded as enthusiastic as you did now, as you happily helped an old lady pick her order.

You were cool like that.

Actually, really cool.

Jake couldn't think of anyone cooler than you.

And you were pretty, and hardworking, and honest, and responsible, and cooperative, and a little bit scary, but that was hot. You were also very kind to customers, and even though Jake could see your lips— which were nice, by the way— twitch, he could tell that you were trying your best, which was good, and—

"Um, sir, can I order now?"

Jake snapped out of his daze, tearing his eyes away from you.

"R-Right!"

Completely missing the way you rolled your eyes at him, though without a little chuckle.

It wasn't always easy being the only competent worker at the parlor. While it meant you got paid more for covering so many shifts, you couldn't say it was fun working the late shifts.

The parlor closed at 11PM on weekdays, so here you were, working late into the night. 

You yawned as you rang up the last customer of the night, using all of your last bits of strength to muster a smile, before saying, "Have a good night!"

As the door slammed shut, the building winds outside providing more than enough force to ring through the entire parlor, you let out a sigh.

"They're gone, Jake," you called.

From inside the break room, you could hear Jake groan something muffled but definitely, "Finally."

Jake Sim was the only coworker you could rely on. He was the only person your age, both of you were freshly graduated highschoolers working to prepare for college experiences. Despite his party-boy look, he was surprisingly diligent. You definitely noticed how he ended up picking up another person's shift, just like you. Unlike everyone else, he actually gave a damn, which you could appreciate.

Tonight was no different from any other.

It was just Jake and you, working the closing shift together.

The moment you entered the break room, you let out an exasperated sigh, leaning on the door frame. Jake, too, was slumped over on the table, his face buried in his arms.

Your shitty coworkers always tried to convince you that you should be happy to work extra shifts: extra pay, more work experience, have a good rep with the boss.

But what they didn't mention was how absolutely draining it was to work 7 hours straight in a short-staffed busy ice cream parlor.

"Why were there so many people?" Jake groaned, shoving his face deeper into his arms. If you weren't exhausted out of your mind, you would've thought the scene before you was a funny sight. Jake, in his silly white uniform designed to look like that of a sailor's and crooked worker hat, practically melting on the break room table.

"And why were there only two of us?" you added, letting your eyelids fall shut as you leaned against the door frame.

Though, you would say, you did like working for one extra reason: Jake Sim himself.

He was as cute as a button, and pretty easy to talk to.

Jake lifted his head, quickly checking his phone.

"No seriously," he rested his face on his fist. "It was cold and dreary all day— and wasn't there a storm warning?— Why would anyone want to get ice cream on a day like this?"

You shrugged. "Beats me."

The two of you stayed in the break room in silence for a few more moments, catching your breaths after a long day. "Let's get outta here, Jake."

Here was your favorite part of the work day: closing up. Not just because it meant that you got to leave, but you could do whatever you wanted.

Jake locked up the front door and flipped the sign, while you locked up front displays and cash registers. The two of you tidied up the breakroom (which was empty because your slobs of coworkers weren't here), before pulling out the mops and cleaning up the floor.

This was the fun part.

"Hey!" Jake cried as you splashed water onto the floor, your wet mop sludging up the water as it moved against the checkered floor. Looks like some of the water got onto his pants. "What was that for?"

You shrugged, with a sly grin. "No reason in particular— Hey!"

Jake shook off the excess water on his mop, pointed directly at you, the water droplets spraying all over your shirt.

"See?" he pointed to the wet drops on your shirt. "We're even now."

You rolled your eyes, but you knew he was being playful.

It was fun now because this was the time that you could play whatever music you wanted. Your manager always insisted that you'd play generic pop music during store hours, but now that it was closed, you could play any music you wanted. And it was great, because you and Jake had the same music taste.

"Really?" you whipped your head over to Jake as he passed your phone, which controlled the sound system, back to you. "Bon Jovi?"

You winced as loud vocals, strong guitar riffs, and a drum louder than you could imagine blasted through the speakers.

"Bon Jovi is good!" Jake shouted all the way from the freezers.

Maybe your taste was just a little bit different.

Jake was a cool guy. He really was. Very personable and someone that you could have fun with, even if you weren't that close to him. But sometimes his music choices were too much.

"You have no reason to be blasting hard rock at 11PM," you murmured.

"I heard that!"

You stifled a chuckle.

As you cleaned the floors, you nodded your head to the music. You could hear humming along wherever he was. It was all quiet, only the sound of mops, the freezers' buzzing, and your queued music playing in the background. It was small moments like his that made you want to keep working (other than the pay).

And plus, the parlor was very close to the beach.

At times like this, you could hear seagulls squawking overhead, with waves crashing against the shoreline.

Which... now that you thought about it...

Why couldn't you hear any of that?

Usually, even if Jake was blasting the hardest rock, you could still hear the sounds of the sea.

But now, all you heard was wind.

You glanced out the window.

Palm trees blew against the night sky. Wind whirled, creating a howling sound.

And before you could think anything of it, you heard two things: the back door slamming, and the sound of electricity buzzing.

One moment you could see everything, and the next moment it was completely dark.

Your blood ran cold.

The music stopped. The buzzing of the freezers stopped, too. It was completely dark, so dark that you couldn't even see your own hands, save for the single stream of moonlight leaking through the front windows.

You would consider yourself a calm person, you really would.

But in that moment, you felt panic set in.

Because here you were, working a late shift in a tiny little ice cream parlor in the middle of the beach, with no one but your teenage coworker. And now all the power went out.

And because you were afraid of the dark.

The mop in your hand dropped, clunking! against the checkered flooring.

Your heart pounded, so loud that you could hear it in your ears. You could feel it jumping out of your chest.

"J-Jake?" you called out.

No response.

Your mind did wonders to scare you, and now it was working over time.

What happened to Jake? Did he disappear with the lights too? You dug your teeth into your bottom lip.

Were you all alone in the dark? Just you and this dark abyss, a dark abyss so suffocating yet so cold that you couldn't even tell if you were standing or curled up. By this time, your legs were feeling weak, so you wouldn't be surprised if you were on the floor, your knees to your chest.

You squeezed your eyes shut.

The howling of the wind sent chills down your spine. Realistically, nothing could get you. You were just at work, like always, but it was just dark. But you felt like something would jump out at you, something scary and from your worst nightmares. It would get you, maybe hurt you. Were you going to die? Why did you feel so alone? What happened to everyone? What happened to Jake—

"[Name]?"

At the sound of a familiar voice, your eyes shot open.

But instead of being met with a pure, unknown darkness, you were met with a tall figure before you, completely shrouded in darkness, save for the stream of yellow light coming to illuminate its face.

Terrifying.

You let out a shriek as you jumped back.

What the hell was that? Was that what got Jake?—

It took a step forward, and before you could scream again—

"[Name]!" it was Jake's voice. He reached out for you, his hand resting on your shoulder. "It's me, Jake!"

You heard a bit of clicking, and it was then that you realized that the scary figure that you saw was just Jake with a flashlight. You relaxed.

"You okay?" Jake crouched down to your curled up figure, the yellow light of the flashlight glimmering against the floor. Although your eyes had slightly adjusted to the darkness, you could see your hands now. "I think the power went out."

You nodded slowly, still with your knees against your chest. Your heart was still pounding in your chest. You felt Jake's hand reach out for yours, interlocking fingers before giving it a squeeze.

Boom!

You jumped away from Jake, a small "eep!" escaping your lips.

Jake flinched, pointing the flashlight at the front windows.

"Thunder," he muttered under his breath. Although all the streetlights and signs had shut down too, he could see the lightning as it struck in the night sky.

He glanced at your startled form.

"Damnit," he cursed under his breath. "There was a storm warning earlier."

You hid your face in your palms.

This was everything that you didn't want to happen.

It was completely dark, and here you were practically trapped inside. It was impossible to get home, because the roads were all dark, and there was probably an oncoming storm, too. It was cold, and it was just you and your coworker. You just wanted to go home!

Although he couldn't see your face, Jake could sense your uneasiness. 

"C'mon," he tugged at your hand. "Let's go to the back."

Although Jake bumped into a few tables and counters on the way to the break room, he didn't mind. After all, there was you, who was clearly startled. He'd rather get a bruise on his hip than you.

He could hear your breath hitching, small whimpers of fear tumbling out as he led you through the dark abyss. Jake had to admit, it was much scarier when it was completely dark than when it wasn't.

The breakroom wasn't much better than in the middle of the floor, but at least there were chairs. Not that it mattered.

You and Jake decided to sit under the break table, shoulder to shoulder with the flashlight between you.

It was silent. You couldn't see Jake, but the feeling of him next to you relieved only some of your anxiety.

The flashlight only illuminated enough for you to see a few feet around you. Otherwise, everything else was a dark, bottomless void.

You knew it was illogical and practically impossible for something else to be lurking. But as minutes passed in silence, the thought of something—or someone— prowling in the dark and ready to jump out at you gnawed at you more and more. Goosebumps rose along your arms, the hair on your neck standing.

"I'm scared, Jake," you whispered, your voice shaky. "I'm so scared."

Thunder boomed in the air, lightning crackled, while heavy rain began to shower down. You jumped at the sound, your hands immediately shooting to grab Jake's arm and leaning into his touch. You squeezed your eyes shut, a scared squeak escaping your lips.

"I'm scared!" you squealed.

Jake's brows furrowed, throwing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to him.

"Hey," he said into your ear, watching as you curled up against him, clutching his arm tight. "Hey, I got you."

Your hold on him only tightened as another round of thunder boomed through the night. "Open your eyes, [Name]. It's okay."

You shook your head profusely, your face pressed into his shoulder.

"Nothing's gonna get ya," he whispered, slowly rubbing circles on your back. "You're okay."

You shook your head again.

"It's so dark," you peeped. "Too dark."

"It's okay," Jake's voice was soft, soft as a cloud as he comforted you. "I'm here. I got you."

You nodded into his shoulder, but you kept your face pressed against it, not letting up.

Jake watched you, both with a soft heart and with wide eyes.

He wouldn't say he knew you too well. Even so, he'd spent a lot of time with you this summer so far, he had a few good memories with you. You were always so... cool.

Always on-task, always ready to fight a rude customer, always ready to speak up if you thought something was wrong.

It was weird. Seeing someone that Jake had always seen as a pillar of support one way or another completely drop that image of strength was… something that he never expected.

Here you were, so vulnerable in his arms.

Jake would have never expected you to be afraid of the dark, let alone some thunder, but he didn't mind. Even with your eyes closed, and even with his arms wrapped around you, you still jolted at each crackle in the sky.

If only he could do something to help you...

Jake let out an 'ah' sound.

He leaned into your ear, whispering right against the shell of your ear, "I'll be right back."

You let out another squeak as you felt Jake slipping away from you, yet he didn't take the flashlight with him.

"J-Jake—!"

"I'm still here," he said, yet you heard as he took a few steps. He was rummaging through his bag. He tried his best to feel for what he was looking for: a small, square case. "I'm with you, don't worry."

And as quick as he left your side he was back. Jake slithered his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. Your eyes widened a fraction as Jake fished for his phone from his back pocket.

"What were you—" you furrowed your brows— "Why’d you get up?"

You could feel Jake turn his head to look at you, and you could hear him grin.

"To get this." In his palm, Jake revealed a small, square case. His earbuds.

You blinked. "W-Why?"

"Don't worry about it." You watched confused as Jake took his earbuds out, jabbing it into the headphone port of his phone. Then, he handed you both of the ears.

"For you," he said simply.

As you were about to object, lightning striked again in the sky, yet another squeal coming from you.

You took his earbuds, jamming them into your ear.

Jake pressed the first song in his playlist.

And if you weren't scared out of your mind right now, you would have yelled at him.

Because really?

Bon Jovi?

At a time like this?

The music was loud enough that you could be distracted, but quiet enough that you could still hear Jake's voice. And when Jake noticed that you were relaxed enough, he opened his mouth.

"I'm surprised you didn't want to rip out my earbuds the moment you heard Bon Jovi," he said.

You elbowed him, yet you were still clinging onto him for dear life.

"Read the room, man," you muttered. "I'm scared shitless."

Jake laughed, and you rolled your eyes again. "This is the only time that I'll willingly listen to Bon Jovi."

"Hey!" Jake cried. "Bon Jovi is a good band."

You shot him a look. "Play some Pink Floyd, something."

You cursed Jake. Of course he'd let you listen to his music, because he got to control it!

"Nah," Jake said. "Bon Jovi is perfect for rainy nights."

You scoffed. "In what world?"

You could hear him grin again. "In my world."

What a loser.

You could see his phone screen light up, probably texts from his parents, but he ignored it. Jake’s phone was on the floor on the other side of him, the side that you were not on.

“Are you sure you won’t play Pink Floyd?” you asked slowly.

“Nope.”

Extreme times call for extreme measures.

Your arm reached across Jake’s lap, jerking to take his phone.

“Hey!” Jake yelped, squirming away from you in a way that blocked your hand from reaching his phone. “What the hell are you—“

“I’m changing the song!”

The two of you struggled like that for a few more moments, and then the next thing you knew you were on Jake’s lap, your arms pinned above your head.

“Let go of me!” you writhed, the earbuds in your eyes still blasting the hardest rock you’ve ever heard. Although you managed to take Jake’s phone, there wasn’t much you could do if he was pinning your hands above you.

“Then give me my phone back,” Jake ignored your struggling.

“Then change the song!”

“No!”

You huffed, continuing your attempt to wriggle out of Jake’s hold, but alas, he was stronger than you. “How are you so strong—“

Boom! Crackle! Thunder and lightning struck.

“Eep!” Immediately, you collapsed onto Jake’s chest, pressing your face into his shirt. You clung onto him, squeezing your eyes shut. When you could feel his chest rumble with a few chuckles, you punched his shoulder lightly. “Shut up.”

Jake chuckled again, but he only pulled you in closer by the waist, allowing you to cling to him more comfortably.

As the storm raged on, any hope that the power would be back up was lost. Jake's phone still had service, but you could tell he was being polite and not going on his phone to not make you feel alienated. Your phone was somewhere in the front, probably on a counter or something.

"We really shouldn't have agreed to cover shifts today," you murmured, your cheek pressed against Jake's chest.

Jake hummed.

He wanted to get past the way that anytime you spoke to Jake, it was either about music or work. He didn't mind talking about these things with you, but he wished he could say more. He wanted to know what you were thinking, and hear about what you liked and disliked, what silly stories or memories you had to tell him.

He wanted to get to know you.

“What’s your favorite color?”

???

"What?"

Jake blinked. "What's your favorite color?"

You stared at him. "Why?"

He shrugged under you. "I dunno. I just wanted to get to know you better."

"Oh." What a simple reason. It made sense for such a simple question. "I like black."

Jake scoffed. "That's not a color."

"Huh? Then what is it?"

"A shade."

"Says who?"

"Says science!"

And then it was quiet again (at least on Jake's part, you were still listening to his music)

But not quite awkward.

Despite the compromising position that you were in, there wasn't any feeling of embarrassment or discomfort.

That's how Jake would describe how he felt toward you. It was an easy thing. You were cool and pretty, and he liked you. Nothing more, nothing less. No games to play, no extra calculations or hours of planning. He liked you, and he was just going to do what felt right. It was as straightforward as that.

"What are you doing after this summer?" you asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

That's right. You and Jake had never discussed much about your personal lives, like where you went to high school, what your plans were post-high school, etc.

And now that the two of you were alone, in the dark, with virtually nothing to do, it was the perfect time to talk about it.

"I'm going up to Santa Barbara," Jake said coolly. "I'm studying biomed engineering."

"Oooh," you mused. "How exciting."

Jake let out a chuckle. "You don't sound excited."

"I am," you deadpanned, and Jake couldn't hold back a laugh.

"What about you?" Jake asked. "What are you doing?"

Even though it was dark, Jake could hear you frown.

"I'm going to Davis for International Business." You paused. "I don't know."

"Whaddaya mean?"

You shrugged. "I dunno if it's really my passion. I just chose it because—"

You're interrupted by a loud bang! followed by buzzing. You jolted, tensing up in Jake's hold, whose hand shot to the small of your back protectively.

"Eek!" you cried, and the next thing you knew, all the lights were back on.

You and Jake stayed where you were for a few moments, long enough for the freezers in the back to start buzzing again. As if someone just snapped their fingers, everything turned back on. The bright lights hitting your darkness-adjusted eyes made your eyes water.

"Oh," Jake said plainly. "The lights are back on."

"No shit, Sherlock," you muttered, earning a pinch to your side. It was now that you and Jake really realized your current positions: you were on top of him, with your head resting on his shoulders, with his arms wrapped around your waist. And it seemed like the two of you realized this at the same time.

"We should—" Jake averted his gaze from you, finding the floor next to him very interesting.

"Yeah, you're right, we should—" you slowly pulled away from him, grimacing at the feeling of Jake's arms slipping away from you.

"Yup, and—" Jake trailed off, not fully completing his thought.

Awkward.

The two of you were back on your feet in no time, both with slightly-disheveled work uniforms, but hey, it was to be expected.

Together, the two of you inspected the parlor. Just in case something slipped in while it was dark (even though that was virtually impossible).

Everything was exactly as you left it.

The mop that you dropped on the floor, your phone on the counter, the keys to the freezer that Jake threw by accident, even the messy chairs.

"Are you scared right now?" Jake asked with a chuckle as you stayed close behind him, your fingers clutching his broad shoulders. From time to time you'd peek around him, but for the most part, you stared straight at his back, unwilling to look ahead. Just in case a monster jumped out!

"I'm not." Lie.

Jake laughed, but before he could poke fun at you more—

Boom!

Oh right, the storm.

Like a cat, you jumped almost immediately, gripping Jake's shoulders for dear life.

Jake peeked out the windows. The streetlamps and signs were illuminated again.

"Looks like all the lights are back up," he said. He glanced over his shoulder to you, who clung to him. "I think we can go home now. The storm's dying down already."

You nodded, and the two of you finished closing up in silence, before preparing to leave.

"Do you have a ride?" Jake asked you as the two of you packed up your things.

Shit.

"My mom was going to pick me up because she didn't want me driving late at night," you groaned. "I'll call her right no—"

"No," Jake shook his head, reaching inside his pocket. You watched as he really shoved his hands in there, like he was searching for something. At last, after digging through his pockets for what felt like hours, he pulled out a bunch of keys, with a tiny lego keychain dangling off of it. "I'll drive you home."

After that day, you weren't called into work again for a few days. In those few days, for some weird reason, you couldn't get Jake off your mind. Which you thought was weird.

You never really thought about Jake aside from work. And it wasn't even the fact that you were thinking about him! It was the fact that you felt weird for feeling weird about thinking about him. If that even made sense.

He's always been cute. Gentlemanly, too.

When he drove you home the other day, he insisted that you didn't need to pay him back for driving you home. In fact, he said that he'd rather use more gas than have you wait alone at the parlor to be picked up. He opened and closed the door for you, showed you how to control the heaters so that you could be warm, and even let you play your music!

He was reliable too, someone that you knew you could count on. And he was very kind, because no matter how many rude customers there were, he understood that everyone was human and served them with a smile. Unlike you, who always exercised that "we reserve to deny you service" right.

These were all things that you knew. It was no surprise. You knew these things.

But after that day, you couldn't help but feel like it was... amplified.

Jake was cute, but now he was cuter. Way cuter.

He felt even more gentlemanly and reliable and kind now. Him going out of his way to comfort you, even if it meant that you had to listen to his god-awful music, warmed your heart.

And that was the weird part.

It was just so odd. You couldn't stop thinking about him. And you felt all weird and mushy for thinking about him, which made you feel even weirder!

You didn't really get it.

Surely, it wasn't a crush.

It wasn't like you were all over the place, distracted and spacy and blushing now that Jake was on your mind. You weren't rolling around and kicking your feet, nor were you giggling.

But you would be lying if you said that the simple thought of his name didn't make you excited.

Meanwhile, Jake knew exactly what was happening to him.

And it was that his crush on you definitely deepened tenfold.

In the moment, when he was with you, whether it be the other day or any other day at all, he was always nonchalant. It was a casual crush, he'd say. Everything was straightforward with no games to play.

But that was a lie.

Because here he was, lying on his bed and staring at his ceiling. He hugged his pillow, embarrassingly pretending that it was you. He felt like a weirdo, but he couldn't get the feeling of you clinging to him and in his arms out of his head!

Just the mere thought of that night made him have to roll around and giggle for a few moments.

Jake sucked in the scent of his pillows. Unfortunately, they didn't smell like you, just like laundry with a faint scent of his own cologne.

You were so pretty, and cool, and kind, and smart, and practical, and just everything good in the world. And then when you got scared and clung to him, it made his heart flutter, because who knew you could be so cute?

Jake let out a squeal into his pillow, his cheeks hurting from how much he was smiling.

For the first time ever, Jake actually wanted to go to work. Just to see you.

He couldn't wait for it.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," you said for the millionth time today. "We don't have that here—"

Another day at work. Just when the idea of going to work didn't sound too bad, you're reminded why you hate it.

Apparently some kids on TikTok spread a rumor that your parlor had a special, limited-edition, summer unicorn flavor. And even worse, your damn social media manager was hinting at it on Instagram, too.

So here you were now, trying to explain to a hoard of angry customers that this limited-edition unicorn flavor was absolutely false. To think that your own social media manager would betray you and your coworkers like this just to attract more customers... You shouldn't be unsurprised but you were.

Diabolical.

It must've been the 90th time in the past hour that you had to explain that you had no fucking clue what a unicorn flavor would be, and if you weren't a tired and overworked teenager, you would've felt bad when a little girl bursted into tears in the middle of the store.

Cry about it, you thought, and you couldn't tell if that sentiment was towards your angry customers, or if it was towards upper management that were about to get multiple complaints about you.

Breathe, you had to tell yourself. It's not worth it. Where was everyone else anyway? You couldn't believe that you were left completely alone to operate the establishment on your own. And most of your coworkers were older than you anyway. Those bums!

You sucked in another breath, putting on your best smile.

"You're telling me that you don't actually have the limited-edition unicorn flavor?!" an angry father crossed his arms, upset with his children cowering beside him.

"No, sir," you said as politely as you could. "That was just a rumor. My apologies for the inconven—"

"Unacceptable!"

You winced, feeling your ears warm up. If everyone in the parlor wasn't already watching you like a hawk, all eyes were now on you.

"I had to drive two hours here," the father slammed his hand on the counter, leaning in so close that you could smell him. "I drove two hours here for unicorn ice cream and you're telling me that it was all a lie?!"

All of this.... for ice cream?"

"I apologize, sir," you hung your head low to appear genuine, clasping your hands together. "That must have been a long ride and—"

"Shut up and give me my ice cream, you bi—" Your eyes widened a fraction as you saw a big palm swinging your way... Was he about to slap you? In the milliseconds that you could even react, you squeezed your eyes shut, preparing for the stinging feeling of a hand against your cheek.

But instead, you felt nothing, only the sound of a few gasps and light chuckling.

"Hey, there, sir," you heard Jake's voice as you peeled your eyes open.

Jake was beside you, his hand wrapped around the man's wrist that was mere inches away from your face.

"J-Jake?!"

The man struggled in Jake's grip, attempting (and failing horribly) to pull his wrist out of Jake's hand.

"Let go of me, boy!" he yelled. Everyone's eyes were on the scene now. How embarrassing.

Jake narrowed his eyes, tightening his grip.

"Here at Layla's Ice Cream Parlor, we reserve the right to deny any patron service," he said plainly.

The man scoffed. "And are you about to deny me service? What are you, the manager?"

Jake only shook his head calmly.

"You were about to assault my coworker here," he motioned toward you, then to the man's still-raised hand. "I don't need to be any manager to realize that someone of that sort has no business here."

Jake shot him a smile, before roughly letting go of his wrist, letting it fall to the counter.

"Please leave, sir."

He glanced around the room, noticing the way everyone stared at him. Another tight-lipped smile spread on his face.

"There are no limited-edition summer flavors, so if that is what you are here for, I apologize for the disappointment. " Jake glanced at you. "Please help yourself to the flavors that we actually have."

With that, Jake took you by the wrist, pulling you into the breakroom.

"W-Wait Jake—!" you tried to pull out of his grasp. "There's still customers out there."

He gently pushed you down onto a chair.

Jake crouched down at your sitting figure, putting his hands on your knees. He squeezed them playfully. "You've done enough today. I'll handle the rest."

"But— But there's a lot of people today," you reasoned, placing your hands on his. "You can't run the entire place on your own...!"

But before the last syllables could even leave your lips, Jake was already retying his apron, fixing his dumb uniform hat. Before he slinked away through the door, he glanced over his shoulder, gripping the door frame.

"I'll prove you wrong," he said with a grin. "Just watch."

(You were right, he was wrong. Not even the most exemplary worker like Jake could handle an entire exuberant ice cream parlor by himself. The moment you saw his tired eyes you were already throwing on your apron. Though, you got a good laugh out of it afterwards.)

You deadpanned.

This was not what you signed up for.

It was Saturday, the day that you swore was your break day from work. And then all of a sudden you got an urgent call from your manager and you rushed to work immediately.

You thought that the parlor got robbed, or maybe something broke down.

Nope.

"You want me..." you blinked, "To wear that?!"

Lo and behold, before you was a comically large ice cream costume, with a brown waffled body for the cone and the most obnoxious white swirl reaching high in the ceiling, with only a circular cut-out to see your face.

Apparently, sales were dwindling, so your managers decided to try out some new advertising.

You were going to wear that godforsaken ice cream costume and hang outside the parlor to attract customers.

"Kid-friendly language only," your manager instructed you matter-of-factly. "No swearing, no saying mean words."

You tuned him out.

And if the walk of shame out of the bathroom in your ice cream costume wasn't bad enough, you were hit with the last thing you wanted to see: Jake Sim.

You were about to jump and shriek and let the ground open up and devour you whole... when you realized that he was wearing an ice cream costume too...!

"You too?!" you cried. Behold, in front of you stood your favorite coworker Jake Sim with an equally deadpan expression, clad in the ridiculous ice cream costume.

"Yup," Jake muttered, popping the p. "I guess we'll never be free."

And he was indeed correct.

There was truly nothing more mortifying than standing outside the damn ice cream parlor, holding an even more obnoxiously bright sign and trying to attract customers... all in your humiliating ice cream costume.

Kids laughed at you from across the street. Cars that passed by you probably did the same. Absolutely demoralizing.

"Come to Layla's Ice Cream Parlor," you said in a monotone voice, trying your very best to not burst into tears of sheer embarrassment. "We have ice cream... and... uh—"

You glanced at Jake, whispering to him, "What else do we have?"

"Ice cream." He said, absolutely no expression in his voice or face. Oh god, we must have lost him too! "Nothing but ice cream."

Poor guy, he looked like he wanted to disappear.

This must have been a punishment, or something. Maybe a humiliation ritual. But after a good ten minutes, you and Jake just decided to commit to the bit. After all, you were getting paid extra for this.

"Ice cream, ice cream!" you and Jake chanted as you paraded around the vicinity of the parlor. After all, there was nothing you could do but make the best of it. You went out of your way to speak to oncoming customers, advertising with the most energy you could. "Come to Layla's Ice Cream!"

But it wasn't always easy.

Like always, customers and children were rude.

"Hello, miss, are you interested in trying some of Layla's yummy yummy ice cre—" and then you got laughed at. Like actually. They just started pointing and laughing at you. Like you were some freak.

And then Jake tried to square up some little kids a few times, it was a mess.

And finally, after what felt like years out there trying to advertise to people, your manager finally called you guys back in. Apparently, you and Jake did such a wonderful job that you guys were needed back at the front. Your coworkers couldn't seem to keep up. Lazy asses.

You and Jake went back inside to change back into your work uniforms— those stupid blue and white sailor uniforms. Except, one of your coworkers was having an "emergency" in the staff bathroom (you were certain it was just Beomgyu sitting on the toilet with his phone and refusing to do his job), so both you and Jake had to change in the staff break room.

At the same time.

"Okay, you will change, and I will cover you—"

"Shut up!" you exclaimed. "Why can't we just change at the same time?"

Jake was being terribly awkward about it.

"B-Because!" he reasoned, unable to hide the way he couldn't look you in the eye. "Because.... you're a girl, and I'm a guy!"

"Aaaaand?" you drew out your syllables, crossing your arms over your chest.

"We can't possibly change in the same room?" Jake cried. "What if— What if I accidentally see your—"

Your cheeks warmed up. What was he on about? "You're not going to!"

Your boss was really annoying about punctuality, so you and Jake should probably change quickly anyway. You ignored Jake's fussing, raising your arms as you began to pull your shirt over your head.

"What are you—"

"Just change!"

In the end, you guys just did the easiest option: turning around so that you faced opposite directions while the other changed... which should have been intuitive for Jake (but he's a little slow).

When you two were both done changing, you turned back around to face Jake, about to let out your grievances about working.

Except, when you saw him, you couldn't help but let out a giggle.

Because your work uniform was supposed to resemble that of a sailor, there were a few complex pieces, such as the sailor scarf draped over your shoulders and neck. Usually, you need a mirror to tie it properly. There was also the damn paper sailor hat that you had to wear.

Since you weren't changing in the bathroom, there was no mirror, so poor Jake's hat and tie were sloppily done, crooked on his person.

"Jake," you smiled, motioning for him to come toward you. And when he was close enough, you yanked him even closer to you by his shoulders, causing him to let out a yelp.

"W-What are you doing?" he asked, unable to hide the panic in his voice.

You giggled again. Your hands began to work on his tie, undoing his sloppy tie and neatly folding it. "Relax, you big baby."

When you were done with his tie, you fixed Jake's hat, oblivious to the way Jake's ears and neck turned a noticeable shade of red.

"There you go," you said with a grin. "All good!"

Jake looked at you with shaky eyes. You were close to him now. Close enough that he could feel your breath fanning his cheeks. Close enough that if he just leaned in a bit more, he could kiss you— Jake jerked himself away from you abruptly. His heart was pounding in his chest at an abnormal rate.

Don't think about kissing her when she's right in front of you! he scolded himself. You gave him a questioning look, before you just grinned again and left the break room.

Ah, Jake was going crazy.

Man, fuck you Beomgyu! you mentally cursed your other coworker. You were absolutely correct; earlier he was indeed hogging the staff bathroom so that he could shirk his responsibilities. According to Jake, Beomgyu did this really often, to the point that the staff bathroom ran out of soap too fast because Beomgyu was busy playing with soap and making dumb ass bubbles in there.

Of all times, it had to be now that the staff bathroom just decided to run out of soap?

It was getting late, so your manager told you to start cleaning. And just as you began, some little unsupervised middle schooler skateboarded right into you, spilling his three scoops of chocolate ice cream with layers of caramel and peanut butter sauce all over your white uniform.

And all you were given were a few measly napkins to wipe but the sticky sweet mess, only after you cleaned up the mess on the floor. Now as you desperately tried to clean the mess off your uniform in the staff bathroom, you were certain that your manager was going to yell at you later.

As you reached for another hand towel from the dispenser, you let out a groan as you realized that there were no more. Seriously, what was Beomgyu doing in here that he just used up all the soap and paper towels?

"[Name]," you heard a knock on the door. It was Jake. "You good in there?"

You groaned again.

"No!" you cried from the other side of the door. You were frustrated, how bothersome! Even if there were more paper towels, there still was a giant brown stain on your shirt. And you'd probably have to get another uniform. "It looks like a shit stain!"

You heard Jake chuckle from the other side of the door, before his footsteps retreated. After a few minutes, Jake came back.

"Can I come in?" he asked, knocking again on the bathroom door.

"Door's unlocked."

Except, instead of seeing Jake in his usual work uniform, he had a big black hoodie thrown over him, probably one that he was wearing before he changed into his uniform earlier. In his hands was a white shirt.

"Wear this," he said as he shoved the white shirt into your hands.

It was his own uniform shirt.

"But—" you tried to reason with him, but he put his hand up, silencing you.

"Can't have you walking around with a shit stain on your shirt," he said with a cheeky grin, earning him a slap on the arm.

"But you'll get in trouble," you breathed. Your manager was really particular about workers wearing uniforms, and for some reason not about workers actually doing their job.

Jake shrugged. "It's about time I did." And flashed you another smile. "And plus, I was going to get in trouble anyway. Apparently, defending my coworker from a rude customer is punishable."

Ah, the unicorn ice cream incident from a few weeks ago.

Was he really that willing to get in trouble for you?

As you closed the door to the bathroom, you could already hear your manager and another coworker making their comments about Jake. Although you couldn't exactly hear what they were saying, it must have been the usual remarks about inefficiency. And probably about how he wasn't wearing work-appropriate clothes.

You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip as you listened to their muffled voices.

Jake was really getting in trouble all for your sake.

As you buttoned up his white shirt, you noted that it carried the scent of his cologne. It smelled good, and you instinctively brought the sleeve up to your nose to catch a better whiff. But then you felt weird and stopped immediately.

It wasn't fair. Everything about your job.

You and Jake had to do all the work, but even so, the managers were disproportionately harsher with Jake than they were with you. Probably because of some sexist bullshit.

And then there were rude and entitled customers.

Jake was taking the fall for you too much.

And you couldn't keep letting it happen.

As you made your way out of the staff bathroom, you could hear your manager berating Jake, with another coworker joining in.

"And why are you not in our employee dress code?" your manager chided. "This is unacceptable! A hoodie? What do you think will happen to our store's brand?"

Jake just hung his head low, but you could tell he was annoyed more than anything. "It was because [Name]'s shirt got ruined, and she was uncomfortable."

"And what business do you have with [Name]?" your coworker joined in lambasting the poor Jake.

"Look, man," Jake looked up at them. "I was just helpin' her out." Jake paused for a moment. "And plus it's closing hours anyway. It's not like anyone sees me out of uniform."

Your manager and coworker thought for a few moments, before your coworker said, "Well, you're still causing a hindrance for our parlor. I think we will cut you weekly pay—"

His weekly pay? Ridiculous. Your body moved on its own, and before you knew it, you had bursted through the door.

"I-It was my fault!" you blurted, your lips moving faster than you could think. "Jake was just helping me."

You ignored the way Jake looked at you with eyes big as saucers, surprised. You swiped your tongue over your lip. "I-It's really my fault. If there's anyone that should get their weekly pay cut, it should be me."

Jake's face visibly contorted, his brows crashing together. "[Name]—"

"That's enough," your manager finally spoke up. The older man sighed, before checking his wrist watch. "Jake, [Name], just forget about it. Don't make this mistake again. Just close up for the night."

And with that, you and Jake were left alone once more.

"What was that all about?" Jake asked you as the two of you closed up.

"What was what?"

Jake huffed, leaning on the mop. "You know, what happened earlier about uniforms?"

"Oh." You shrugged, not really paying him any mind. "What about it?"

Jake huffed again. "Y'know... Why did you step in?"

You finally looked at him, before blinking a few times. "Isn’t it obvious?"

Jake smiled. "No, that’s why I’m asking you."

You scoffed playfully. "Okay, smartass."

You paused for a few moments. "You’re my friend, Jake. You’ve protected me in the past, so I'm just returning the favor."

"Thank you," Jake replied, unable to hide the smile growing on his face. "That's very kind of you.

You just hummed in response, going back to cleaning up.

Jake teetered on his feet, back and forth, as he played with his fingers. His heart pounding in his chest, Jake chewed on his bottom lip.

He was nervous.

Just this morning, you texted him if he wanted to hang out with you, because as you said, you were bored.

Hanging out? With you? The hottest girl that he's ever seen? There was no way in hell that he'd say no to such a golden opportunity.

You'd told Jake to meet you at the pier, because there was a nice mall area around there. As you relayed in your texts, you were going on vacation in a few weeks, and needed to go shopping for it.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't have any ulterior motives. You weren't really sure how you felt about Jake. He was cute, and sweet, and you definitely wanted to get to know him better. And there was a part of you that desperately wanted to impress him.

Maybe today could be an opportunity for you.

You checked your reflection in the car window before you got out of your mom's car. Muttering a "bye," you made your way toward where you told Jake to meet you.

It was a sunny day. You chose to wear something breathable, a pretty pink sundress with a cardigan. You didn't dress like this on most days. You liked to opt for dark colors, but today you wanted to be... cute.

Pretty for Jake.

You spotted Jake pretty easily. Not because he had anything that made him physically easy to identify, not at all. It was more like... you simply could just spot him. It was like you had a newfound Jake-radar.

"Hi," you said with a smile. And for some reason, it seemed like Jake was startled, with his eyes widening as he caught sight of you. "Are you okay?"

Jake stared at you for a few moments, and you swore you saw the way his eyes looked you up and down. His lips parted, and he sucked in a sharp breath as he swiped his tongue over his lips.

You felt a twinge of embarrassment. You didn't wear light colors normally, was it obvious that this dress was not something that you usually wear? Did you look strange? Maybe you should've worn your typical black clothing, and—

"N-No," Jake stammered, his eyes still looking you up and down. Truth be told, he had to bite back a "damn." Because yes, damn, you looked hot. "You look— You look nice today."

Your cheeks prickled with warmth. "Oh. Thank you."

"You don't..." Jake continued, as if he was on autopilot. You were beginning to feel really shy when you realized that he was really staring at your chest area. "You don't wear pink often, do you?"

You averted your gaze. "You're right, I don't." How embarrassing! So he notices the things you wear... and he probably 100% knows that you don't wear pink at all. "Does it look weird, or—"

"No!" Jake blurted, before catching himself. He cleared his throat, his ears a warm shade of pink. "Not at all. I really, uh, meant it when I said— When I said you looked nice."

You nodded slowly. Was it normal to feel so warm? Maybe you should check the weather again?

"Really nice," Jake echoed himself. If you weren't busy feeling shy yourself, you would have noticed Jake checking you out for the 50th time already.

You murmured a brief "thanks," before you quickly changed the subject.

"Shall we go?"

It was unusual to feel awkward or shy around Jake, and vice versa. You knew for sure that Jake was a special person, but it never affected you. For Jake, he was determined to be calm and nonchalant when it came to you. And plus, your friendship was always casual anyway.

Which was why all of your shyness dissipated pretty quickly.

You took Jake along to all the spots at the pier's mall area.

"What are you looking for?" Jake asked as he trailed after you. Jake will never understand women. You've been to 4 stores already, and all you've done is touch things and say, 'Oh this is cute.' And then you'd leave.

You shrugged. "Cute things for vacation."

Jake looked around, through the store mirrors as you two traversed the mall area. "Any preferences?"

You shrugged again. "I like dark colors, but I don't mind brighter colors for vacation, yaknow?"

Jake hummed.

The two of you walked around for a little longer until you stopped in front of a store.

"What's this?" Jake asked.

You grinned. "A swimsuit store."

Listen, Jake wouldn't consider himself an easily-excitable guy. He wasn't pervy, either. Especially toward you! He was nonchalant!

But as he entered the girly swimsuit store, he couldn't help but redden at the thought of you in some of these swimsuits. Some of them were provocative and cheeky, making Jake's stomach do flips as his mind crept into places that made it hard for him to make eye contact with you. Other ones were cute and frilly, arguably making Jake's heart pound even faster as he imagined you in them.

"Hey, what do you think about this one?" you asked Jake as you took one of the suits off the rack.

On the inside, Jake was already drooling at the thought. But on the outside he simply nodded, giving a playful smile and a thumbs up. And really, he thought that if he could maintain that attitude for the rest of the time in this swimsuit store, he'd be fine.

But he was wrong.

"Okay, I'm gonna try these on, and I'll have you give me feedback."

What.

What?

And so Jake sat in the couches in front of the changing rooms, simply awaiting his death.

He's not weird, he swears. He doesn't want to be creepy or gross toward you.

But how could he not sweat and basically hyperventilate in these changing rooms when the hottest girl that he's ever seen (you) is about to ask him for his opinion on swimsuits?

Jake was certain that no matter what, you would look hot.

And he was proven correct when you slipped out of the changing rooms.

"Okay, first one," you said, in a voice that was a little too relaxed. You went on your tiptoes, doing a few turns here and there so that Jake could see the full extent of the suit on you. "What do you think?"

And oh.

Good lord.

Jake was really trying his best not to make you uncomfortable.

But there was absolutely no way that he could just sit there and not react. His jaw quite literally dropped the moment he saw you.

The way the suit hugged your body, the way the colors illuminated your skin, the way you were 100% feeling yourself in it— All of it was making Jake 2 seconds away from crashing out.

You must have been a goddess. Or maybe Jake saved a country in his past life.

"It looks— You look— I— You—" he stumbled over his words. There were no words to describe how you looked. You looked downright beautiful. Like, if Jake died now he wouldn't mind. And when you giggled at his reaction, he took a deep breath. Don't be a weirdo! he told himself.

"You look beautiful," he breathed, finally catching himself. His eyes flickered back up to your pretty, pretty face. "You look really beautiful in this one."

"Thank you," you smiled at him. You did another twirl, something that you definitely knew drove him crazy. And if you hadn't noticed him checking you out, Jake was certain that you definitely knew now.

And maybe Jake didn't know enough about women. Because he really believed that that one swimsuit was the only one that you were trying on.

And he was so wrong.

Because there were at least 3 more that you wanted to show him!

Oh, he wasn't going to survive this.

Well, Jake did survive.

After insisting on carrying your shopping bag full of your new swimsuits (Jake didn't dare peek inside because he thought he'd combust), you decided to do some more exploring.

You got some food to munch on, and went to all types of stores. And you took many pictures, too! Pictures together, of you trying on hats and sunglasses. Candid pictures of each other, many of which where you look pretty without even trying and Jake's mind is blown.

More exploring, walking, sitting down, walking, and then sitting for 30 minutes because both of your feet hurt. A lot of laughing, a lot of dumb conversations, and even more laughing.

And before you knew it, it was getting dark out. Suddenly, the sound of the waves crashing filled the air, the cool beach wind blowing against your cheeks. 

"Let's go walk along the shore!"

And so you did.

The orange sky was fading into a dark blue, and yet, the sun still shone so brightly as it submerged into the horizon. The water gently rocked against the shoreline, while the scent of sea salt and seaweed filled your senses.

It was a cool evening, and you tugged on the sleeves of your cardigan to warm your cold hands.

By now, the beach was quiet. Many people had already left, as it was slowly becoming nighttime.

In quiet moments like this, you couldn't help but fully conceptualize Jake as a person.

He was a handsome boy your age. He was kind, sweet, responsible, silly, everything great in a person. And he had a similar music taste to you, too. And here he was, walking alongside you as the sun set.

Your eyes fluttered over to him. His eyes were trained on the sand below his feet, appreciating the way the wet granules covered his skin.

He was a straightforward person. Things went from A to B with him easily. No games, nothing to hide. And yet, you felt like there was so much to discover about him. There was an entire world undiscovered in his head. And you wanted to be a part of it.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked suddenly, interrupting the calm silence.

"You."

.

.

.

You?

You could feel your heart picking up speed, but you kept your composure. Meanwhile, you swore your skin was prickling with an uncharacteristic warmth.

"I-I mean—" Jake seemed to snap out of his daze. "I— I was just thinking about you, and work, and summer, and—"

You blinked, but your lips spread into a tight smile. You didn't know why you felt disappointed.

You sucked in a breath. "The water's really nice tonight."

"Mhm," Jake agreed. He wasn't blind. He could see the way your face fell ever so slightly. He could see when you felt flustered or shy because of him.

But what if he was misinterpreting things? What if his eyes were playing tricks on him?

But then you'd look up at him with those shiny eyes, almost like you were begging him to give you his heart.

Just go for it.

His eyes dropped to your hands, which were still tugging on your sleeves to keep warm.

Jake clicked his tongue. Boldly, he grabbed your hands, clasping them in yours.

"Hey!" you cried.

"Geez, your hands are so cold," he murmured, before locking his fingers with one of your hands. As if nothing happened, Jake just continued walking along the shore, this time with your hand in his.

You stared at your interlocked fingers for a few moments, before you swallowed all of your shyness and continued trailing with him.

The two of you returned to walking in silence, nothing but the sound of the water and your breaths filling the air.

Jake wasn't lying when he said he was thinking of you, because he really. He always was. And just as he was about to fall back into thought, your hand pulled away from his.

With curious eyes, Jake watched as you silently pulled out a tiny plastic case from your purse.

Your earbuds.

You plugged them into your phone, before jamming one of the buds into your own ear. You looked at Jake expectantly, and he took the second earbud graciously.

You bit back a laugh as you turned on your music.

The second you pressed 'play,' a hardy bass and an unforgettable drumline played into your ears.

"Are you serious?" Jake immediately snapped his head at you. "Fleetwood Mac?!"

You laughed, throwing your head back. "I wasn't about to let you ruin the beach vibe and play Bon Jovi."

"I don't only listen to Bon Jovi—!"

And just as you and Jake were enjoying music, the beach, and most importantly, each other, Jake's phone rang. And of course, his ringtone was a Bon Jovi song.

You gave him a look as his lips spread into a goofy smile.

Not daring to tear out the earbud, he picked up his phone and listened with his other ear.

And even though it was nearly nighttime by now, you could still see how Jake's face morphed.

When he hung up, his face dropped.

"They need me to take someone's shift."

Oh.

This was really, very, genuinely, seriously annoying.

Because unfortunately, the truth was that if they needed Jake to work, then they probably needed you to work too.

Because they always needed you and Jake to work.

And so, here your (not-so official) date was ending.

Apparently, it was extremely urgent, and they insisted on paying Jake extra if he came. Not to worry, because he texted your manager to make sure that you'd get extra pay if you came along, too.

The moment that you stepped into the parlor, you could feel all the joy leaving your body. You swore that Layla’s Ice Cream Parlor had evil spirits in there, designed specifically to simply fill your body with dread.

You put on one of the spare work uniforms that the parlor had in the back. It was a little big, and a little itchy, but whatever.

When Jake got the phone call and explained to you the situation, you were fully expecting a packed parlor, with a line that went out the door and your incompetent coworkers couldn't handle it, or something. But now that you were in the parlor, you realized that that was just a load of bullshit.

"Empty," Jake muttered behind you. "There is absolutely no one here."

You hummed in agreement, equally deadpan.

Those lazy bums.

They just didn't want to work the closing shift. They just didn't want to do the cleaning or locking up. They just wanted you to take their shifts so that they could go home and relax.

And so here you two were, just lazing around in the breakroom, just trying to pass the time. You let your phone play some random playlist.

"I'm sorry," Jake said, with his cheek pressed against the breakroom table. "We were hanging out and I decided to take us to work."

"Nah, you're justified," you said lazily. "They're promising us extra pay, so it's fine."

The room went silent again, but you could tell Jake was thinking something. And indeed, he was.

Jake felt horrible! Although you did agree to come to work with him, he still felt back. Did he just fumble your first (unofficial) date? God, he's so stupid! Now you two were stuck in the worst place on earth.

He stared at your bored expression.

He couldn't let you stay bored.

Without a word, he got up from his seat in the breakroom and disappeared out to the front. You could hear some cluttering and buzzing.

"Close your eyes!" he yelled before he came back to where you were in the breakroom. And you complied.

"What are you doing, Jake?" you asked, but you couldn't help but smile. He was definitely up to some antics.

"Just close your eyes," he instructed you, before sitting down with you at the breakroom table again.

Jake clasped his hands together. "I have three cups of ice cream here. You will close your eyes and guess which one is which."

You let out an exasperated sigh. "Are you serious?"

"Yes!" Jake laughed. "We can't get bored in here."

You chuckled. "Okay, fine."

Jake watched you intently as he spoon-fed you the first spoonful of ice cream.

The first flavor was strawberry, your personal favorite.

Maybe it was getting late, or maybe Jake was just too obsessed with you, but he couldn't take his eyes off of the way your pretty lips opened up for the ice cream. He was simply so mesmerized by the way you licked your lips, relishing in the way the sweet strawberry ice cream melted on your tastebuds.

"This is so obvious," you nudged him, kicking him from under the table. "At least make it hard for me!"

Jake rolled his eyes playfully. "Just guess!"

You huffed, mumbling something about him being stupid under your breath. "Strawberry. Duh."

"Woo hoo!" Jake cheered for you. "It was strawberry!"

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock."

The second flavor was ube. Which you guessed almost immediately.

"Next flavor, please," you giggled. "This game is too easy,"

But Jake wasn't listening to you in the slightest.

Just why did you have to start licking the spoon clean? The way your glossy lips wrapped around the spoon, your tongue wrapping around the smooth plastic, and now he was feeling all types of things, and—

"Seriously, make it harder for me!"

Jake gulped.

The last flavor he had was salted caramel. His own personal favorite.

He'd already taken a few bites out of it.

He glanced at your lips, then down at the salted caramel ice cream.

Even under the corporate light of the break room, you still glowed so prettily. And you must have been doing it on purpose, the way you were keeping the spoon in your mouth, with your lips wrapped around it so prettily.

Jake's eyes flickered back to your lips once more, then to the salted caramel ice cream.

His heart was already pounding in his chest. All the blood was rushing to his head and Jake thought that he'd faint.

Your lips were just so damn pretty.

It seemed like something was possessing Jake's body. While his mind was frozen on your lips, his body was moving on its own.

He reached out for you first, his large hand taking solace on your shoulder.

And in one, fluid motion, Jake leaned in, and closed the gap between his lips and yours.

Your lips were soft and sweet, like clouds. Jake's eyes had unconsciously fallen shut, and the moment that he realized that he was kissing you, they shot open. However, just as he was about to pull away, because oh my god he was kissing you, and he didn't even ask!, Jake felt your hand slither up around his neck.

You pulled him in even closer, deepening the kiss.

Jake felt dizzy. It was the way your tongue dipped into his mouth when he let out a little gasp. Or maybe it was the way your fingers ran through his hair, almost as if you were desperate to keep his lips on yours. Your everything— your hands, your lips, your scent— they were all driving him insane.

Jake didn't want it to end, and if it weren't for his need for air, he wouldn't have pulled away. Ever.

The two of you sat there, breathless, staring into each other's eyes for what felt like an eternity. Jake's cheeks were red, his pupils blown out with desire. His eyes fell down to your lips.

"Salted caramel," you breathed, your hands sliding down to his shoulders. You squeezed his shoulders. "You taste like salted caramel— kiss me if that's the answer—"

And you didn't need to ask him twice, because Jake was already crashing his lips against yours.

There was something so addictive about your lips. The way you moaned against his lips, the way you clung onto him like you needed him, it was all driving him crazy.

Jake needed more, he needed you.

In his head, it was all just you, you, you.

"I want you so bad," Jake mumbled against your lips. "Please."

He could feel you giggle, but he simply just slides his hand around your waist to pull you closer.

Your lips moved against his in ways that were too perfect to be real. Jake felt like he was in heaven. You were heaven. You were angelic, you were godly, you were—

"Um, excuse me, are you guys still open?"

!!!

You and Jake jumped away from each other.

Shit.

It was still store hours.

"Are we going to get fired?"

Now it was actually closing hours.

You and Jake started cleaning after you were so rudely interrupted, and now it was time to close up.

And it was awkward.

Your heart was practically leaping out of your chest. It felt like forever since you shared your kisses with Jake. And now, you craved his lips once more.

But what if it was just on the whim? What if Jake just did it to do it?

You just wanted him so bad. You wanted to kiss him again, you wanted to feel him again.

"For what?"

You shifted uncomfortably, your eyes refusing to meet Jake's.

"Kissing coworkers."

"No!" Jake's cheeks flared up. "Of course not!"

"Then..." your brows furrowed. Your face felt hot to the touch. You felt like you were going to get a heart attack. Seriously, you felt like you were burning up, all the while you felt frozen in time and space. You slowly looked up at Jake. "Then can we... you know... keep doing it?"

.

.

.

"I— I mean, if you don't mind— and if it's not something that we could get fired for—" you stammered— "Then can we... you know— can we keep kissing?"

Jake was already on it.

“Eek, Jake, lock the doors first!”

After a few more weeks of hiding in the storage closet to makeout, and honestly straight up shirking your responsibilities to kiss in the breakroom, you and Jake did the unthinkable.

"We resign!"

Your manager looked at you incredulously. "W-What?"

You and Jake smiled. "We quit."

You've never felt more free. With your boyfriend at your side, it seemed like the summer was endless.

BONUS

"Did I ever tell you that I liked you?" you asked Jake, in his car just moments after you quit your job.

"I don't think you did, babe," Jake laughed.

"Oh."

You should probably put that on your to-do list.

You glanced at your boyfriend. How his lips looked so kissable.

Sigh. You'll tell him what you like later. It's time to kiss!

note: please reblog n comment if you enjoyed! xoxo vanya >_<

[brooklynnbbg]

Can you please write what luigi would be like jealous? How would he act when consumed with jealousy? 👀👀

♡ SUMMARY - Luigi sees you laughing with another man on your Instagram story. His jealousy gets the best of him when you come home. 

♡ WARNINGS - Smut! Masturbating (male), Luigi is a little mean, possessive luigi, dom luigi, fingering

♡ A/N -  sorry if this is too long anon!  I kind of went overboard haha sorry i am horny <3

The soft glow of Luigi’s phone illuminated his face in the darkened bedroom. He reclined against the headboard, one hand propped under his chin as his thumb absentmindedly scrolled through Instagram stories. He hadn’t heard from you much today, and he missed your voice, your touch, your face. His mood had already been teetering on the edge when your story popped up on his feed.

A burst of laughter filled the screen, your laughter. You were seated at a crowded table, your head tipped back, your smile radiant as you leaned toward a man he didn’t recognize. The man’s arm rested casually on the back of your chair, and the way he leaned into your space made him uneasy. Another burst of laughter—his this time—echoed faintly through the video as the camera panned to you giggling, covering your mouth with your hand in that way Luigi adored.

Jealousy hit him like a tidal wave, sharp and consuming. It wasn’t rational—he knew you loved him. But the way that man looked at you, as if he had any right to bask in your light, clawed at something primal inside him. He exited the app with a sharp flick of his thumb, tossing the phone onto the bedside table with more force than necessary.

Luigi's chest heaved as he raked a hand through his curly hair. He wasn’t proud of this feeling, of the way it twisted in his gut and burned low in his stomach. He trusted you, but the thought of another man making you laugh like that, drawing out the kind of joy he selfishly wanted to hoard for himself, sent his mind spiraling.

He closed his eyes and let out a slow, shaky breath. He needed to calm down before you got home; he didn’t want his jealousy to spill over into something ugly. Instead, his thoughts drifted to you, to the way you looked in that video—your hair shimmering under the dim restaurant lights, your lips curving into that devastatingly beautiful smile that made his heart ache.

But his thoughts lingered to something else, something more primal. His hand slid down his stomach, his fingers ghosting over the waistband of his sweatpants as his mind conjured an image of you—but not the carefree, laughing version he’d just seen. No, in his mind, you were beneath him, his thick hand around your neck, your tits bouncing,  your cheeks flushed, your lips parted, begging for him. His.

He imagined the way you’d look at him when he finally let that possessiveness show, the way your body would respond to his hands, his mouth. The way you’d cry when he relentlessly fucked you.  He’d take his time with you, reminding you exactly who you belonged to, who could make you tremble and moan like no one else. The thought of you writhing under him, whispering his name in that breathy tone that drove him wild, sent a jolt of heat through his veins.

His grip tightened as he lost himself in the fantasy, his breathing uneven, his mind painting vivid scenes of you. His hand stroked his cock slowly, spreading the precum that was already leaking out. He saw your hands clutching at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you arched against him, surrendering to the intensity of his touch. He imagined the way you’d scream his name when he kissed the sensitive spot just below your ear, the way your body would melt under his.

He let his head fall back against the headboard, his hand still stroking his throbbing cock. He let his lips part, he let your name fall from them. He didn’t care if you came in now, all he wanted was to make you prove you’re his.

The sound of the front door opening snapped him out of his reverie. He froze, his heart racing as he heard your voice calling out his name, light and cheerful. Guilt mingled with the lingering haze of desire as he hastily adjusted himself, running a hand over his face as if that could erase the evidence of his thoughts. 

He wanted to remain calm, he wanted to let the thoughts go. He knew you loved him. He knew you were his. He was being crazy. 

But when you appeared in the doorway, still glowing from the night out, your eyes lit up, he couldnt help but wonder if your glow was because of the other man. “Hey lu,” you greeted, kicking off your shoes and crossing the room to him. “Why are you sitting here in the dark? Whats wrong?”

He reached for you without thinking, pulling you onto his lap and burying his face in your neck, you felt his scruff against your smooth skin. “Fucking missed you,” he muttered, his voice rougher than he intended.

You laughed softly, threading your fingers through his hair. “I wasn’t gone that long.”

“Felt like forever,” he replied, tightening his arms around you. His jealousy lingered at the edges of his mind, you could see it on his face. It looked almost like anger. 

You noticed the tension in his body and tilted your head to look at him. “Lu, what’s wrong?” you asked softly, your brows knitting in concern.

Instead of answering, he shifted, his hands settling firmly on your hips. His eyes met yours, dark and intense. “You…” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “Other guys make you laugh huh? Other guys make you moan?”  Before you could respond, his lips found yours in a bruising kiss, filled with the pent-up jealousy and desire he had been holding back.

He turned you around so you were on your knees on the bed in front of him. He wrapped his hands around you, one sliding under your shirt to grip your waist, the other slipping between your thighs. His touch was purposeful, teasing but firm, as his fingers brushed over your clothed pussy. You gasped, your body responding instantly to the sudden shift in his demeanor.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice a low growl as he grabbed your neck, turning you around to face him. “Say you’re mine.”

“Lu,” you whispered, your voice breathless, but he didn’t let up. His fingers pressed harder, circling your clit through the fabric, drawing a whimper from your lips.

“Say it,” he repeated, his tone commanding. “I want to hear you. Cant stop thinking about you and that fucking guy. He make you feel like this hm? He make you wet like this?”

“Lu… I’m yours,” you managed to say between cries of pleasure, your voice trembling as the pleasure built under his relentless touch. “Only you make me feel good… please Lu”

It was true, only he made you feel like this. You would never do anything with anyone else, Luigi had you, body and soul. 

He smirked, turning your head and leaning in to kiss you again, his fingers slipping under your underwear this time, finding your bare skin. The sensation was perfect, his touch skilled and deliberate as he worked you closer to the edge.

“That’s right,” he murmured against your lips. “Only mine. Always mine.”

“Always,” you whispered, your body arching into him as he brought you closer and closer, but just as you were on the brink, he stopped, pulling his hand away. A needy whine escaped you, your eyes wide with desperation.

“Fucking rubbed my cock thinking about you like this,” he said, his voice dripping with control, but also with vulnerability. His hand rested lightly on your thigh, so close yet maddeningly far from where you needed him. “Say your mine.”

“I… I’m yours,” you repeated, your voice cracking with need. “Please, Lu, I’m yours. Only yours.”

Satisfied, he rewarded you, his fingers returning to their task, drawing you higher and higher until he finally let you fall over the edge, your cries of pleasure muffled against his lips as he kissed you deeply, possessively. And as the waves of release washed over you, he held you close, his jealousy finally subdued by the certainty that you were his and his alone.

[omgiamwish]

Snowmen and Such

@mp100secretspirit Here is my present for @smoarchok! I hope you enjoy it <3

About 1800 words of pure fluff. Read below, or on Ao3

Shigeo rests his arms on the wooden railing, leaning his weight against it and letting it hold him. Snowflakes fall in big clumps to join the expanse of white already carpeting the landscape. The sky is a soft gray, as far as he can see, and the light is dim despite only being late morning. Except for the soft static of snowflakes landing, the whole world is quiet.

“Hey!” Tome-san’s voice pierces the silence, but it’s not at all unwelcome. He turns to her as she joins him. “You forgot your earmuffs in the room.”

“Oh.” He takes them from her with a smile and puts them on. He hadn’t noticed how cold his ears had gotten. “Thank you, Tome-san.”

“What’re you doing out here, anyway?”

“I wanted to… to watch the snow, I guess.” He looks back to it, eyes catching on individual flakes in their descent. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much at once. It’s really pretty.”

“Reigen-san said it snowed on the company trip you all went on last year…”

“Not this much. I’m glad I decided to come after all.”

Tome-san leans on the railing next to him. “Even though they didn’t even need you?”

Shigeo considers that. “Maybe even more because of that. And it was nice that Shishou asked if I wanted to come this time, instead of just… expecting I would.”

They watch the snow in silence for a long moment. Shigeo imagines laying down in it and letting the falling snow cover him. How long would it take? Until he was just another lump or indent in the frozen landscape? Although, as peaceful as it sounds, he probably wouldn’t like having that much snow on his face.

Tome-san thumps him on his back, breaking him out of his thoughts. “I feel like building a snowman. Wanna help?”

“Oh. Yeah!”

They leave the sanctuary of the porch and wade out into the snow. It’s only a few seconds before Tome-san gives up making her own path and walks in Shigeo’s footsteps. He doesn’t blame her; the snow is knee deep, making every step effortful. By the time they get to the flat area of what might be a lawn in warmer weather, Shigeo is breathing heavily and verging on lightheadedness. He flops onto his back like he’d imagined doing only minutes earlier.

“Hey.” Tome-san kicks his shoe. “You’re not giving up already, are you?”

“No,” Shigeo wheezes, staring at the sky and blinking hard when a snowflake lands in his eye. “I’m just… resting.”

“You’re not slacking off in your club, are you?” She kicks his shoe a few more times. He moves to kick back and she steps out of range. “Letting Sagawa do all the work?”

“I placed twelfth in this year’s marathon, you know.”

“And then you slacked off so hard, you lost a year’s progress in like. Two months. I see, I see.”

“No,” Shigeo protests, laughing. He sits up and brushes snow off his face.

Tome kneels down and starts packing together a snowball. It takes her a few tries before it stops falling apart when she tries to roll it and she laughs in triumph when she finally gets something bigger than a baseball.

Shigeo watches her push the ball around, packing snow onto the sides to keep it a little more even. He picks up some snow and tries to pack a ball of his own. It takes him a lot longer to get it rolling than it took Tome-san, and by the time he has a ball as big as his head, she’s already got a second ball of about the same size.

“Hey Mob-kun!” she calls a bit later. “Come stack these for me! Oh, and bring that over, too. That can be the head!”

Shigeo picks up the ball he’d been working on and walks over to Tome-san, taking the path she’d made with her work.

The first ball she’d made comes all the way up their hips, and the second is maybe about half that size. Shigeo puts down his own comparatively meager sized snowball and tries to lift the smaller of Tome-san’s. It takes him a few tries to get a good grip and then for the next few moments, his entire focus is on Not Dropping It. He clutches it to his chest. Leans back to distribute the weight. Staggers the few steps to his goal. Heaves it into place and holds onto the whole thing for a few seconds to make sure it won’t fall as soon as he lets go.

Then he collapses back into the snow.

Tome-san kicks his shoe.

“That was kind of impressive actually. I thought for sure you were going to use your powers. You should definitely use them for the next one, though.”

“Next… one?” Shigeo pants. Snowflakes tickle his eyelashes.

“Yeah. I want to see how big of a snowman we can make.” He hears Tome-san move around and the crunch of snow. “This one isn’t even as tall as me.”

Shigeo huffs a laugh. For awhile, he just listens to her pushing snow around. Then he sits up and looks at the snowman they’ve already made. Tome-san put the head on and packed snow into the places where the snowballs meet. It looks kind of lopsided and lumpy, stained with dirt and grass, not at all like the perfect white spheres you see in cartoons.

He kind of likes it.

Tome-san is making some weird noises, though, so he stands up and walks over to where she’s pushing ineffectually at a… very large snowball.

“Do you need help?”

“Come over and help me push!”

“With my powers?” Shigeo rests a hand on the ball. It’s about the same size as the bottom one of the complete snowman.

“No, that’s cheating.” She shifts around, digging her shoulder into it, shoes slipping on uncovered grass. “You have to- have to roll them naturally, or it doesn’t count.”

“But it’s okay to use psychic powers to stack them?”

Tome-san glares at him. “Are you going to help or not?”

He kneels beside her and braces himself against the packed snow. On three, they push together. It rolls over easily. The next few rolls are progressively less easy. They keep at it until, even with their combined efforts, they can’t get it to move.

Panting for air, they lean against the snowball, legs sprawled out before them. Shigeo is half sweaty, half freezing. Tome-san opens the top of her coat, so he expects she feels about the same.

“Do you… do you think… we can make the next one… just as big?”

Shigeo laughs, a stuttering, breathy thing.

They cannot, in fact, get the next one as big.

They get close, though, and Tome-san directs Shigeo to stack the two extremely large snowballs next to the first snowman. She rolls a third snowball for the head, no bigger than the head of the other. It sets Shigeo off to giggling.

“Wait, hold on. Look, look.” Tome-san pulls off a glove and digs her thumb into packed snow, drawing the shape of a tie on each snowman torso. “It’s-” She wheezes through laughter. “It’s Reigen-san and Serizawa-san.”

Shigeo makes an embarrassingly high-pitched noise. Shaking with renewed laughter, he packs together a snowball and places it at the feet of the snowmen. “D- Dimple,” he explains.

They both collapse into laughter, Tome-san howling with it.

“What’re you kids laughing at?”

Shishou approaches, walking in the trench of their foot prints that the still-falling snow had been working to cover and thus far only softened the edges of. Ritsu trails a few meters behind.

“Well, I guess those are some funny looking snowmen. Why is that one so much more shitty than the other though?”

“That one’s you, Shishou.”

Tome-san, who had almost regained composure, bursts into laughing again. Dimple pops into visibility to join her, and even Ritsu barks a laugh. Reigen-shishou gapes at him, baffled, or maybe betrayed, but Shigeo just grins, unrepentant.

“What the hell. Who’s the other one, then?”

“Serizawa-san, of course,” Tome-san answers, fighting giggles.

“And Dimple,” Shigeo adds, nudging said snowball with his foot.

“Hey,” Dimple complains, without heat.

“That’s kind of cute, actually,” Reigen-shishou decides.

“Nobody asked you,” Dimple mutters.

“But if you kids are getting up to this kind of stuff, you’re definitely in the mood for a snowball fight, yeah?”

Tome-san raises her eyebrows, then looks to Shigeo. He tilts his head, considering. “I don’t know Shishou, Tome-san and I are kind of tired.”

“Nonsense.” Reigen-shishou scoops some snow from the ground and starts packing it. “You kids need to lighten up. How often have you seen such great snowball weather?” He pulls back his arm, clearly aiming at Shigeo. “It’d be a shame to waste-”

A snowball hits Reigen-shishou in the head, disintegrating into a white halo. He stumbles forward with a shriek, almost face-planting in as-of-yet untouched snow.

“What’s wrong, Reigen-san,” Ritsu calls, gathering another handful of snow. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Reigen-shishou whips around and throws the snowball he’d intended for Shigeo at Ritsu. Ritsu doesn’t need to dodge the poorly aimed throw and doesn’t bother to. The next two snowballs hit Reigen-shishou in the chest, despite his attempts to dodge.

“Mob, Tome-chan, help me out here.”

Three snowballs hit Reigen-shishou at once.

Tome-san laughs. Her laugh cuts off into a shriek when a snowball hits her chest, right where her coat is still open.

“Mob, what the hell!”

She lunges toward him, scooping up snow to let loose over his head. He scrambles away, flinging loose snow behind him. He'd opened his own coat a bit, in the last efforts of making the snowmen, and she wastes no time in tackling him and shoving snow down his shirt.

They keep that up for awhile, shoving snow into each others faces and hair and clothes. Making to get up and run away, only to slip on the snowy ground or be tugged back down with the lightest pull. It’s Tome-san who finally calls a halt, breathing too heavily to laugh, but still smiling.

“That- that’s enough. It’s way too cold to keep doing this. Let’s go in.”

Despite her words, she doesn’t make any move to get up from where she’s sprawled in the snow. Shigeo doesn’t either, only rolling a bit to the side to get out of her personal space.

“Are you alright, Nii-san?” Ritsu calls.

“Mm.” Shigeo looks around. “Did Shishou go inside already?”

“Yeah.” Ritsu smirks. Then he steps closer holding out his hand. “We should, too. Your clothes are wet, and you’ll get sick if you stay in them too long.”

Shigeo takes Ritsu’s hand, accepting his help up. Tome-san stands by herself, brushing snow off her clothes. Dimple hovers around their heads, commenting on the fight. Together, they head inside to the warmth of the building, Serizawa-san’s questions, and Reigen-shishou’s complaining. Shigeo can’t stop smiling.

[verxca]

Imagine Jason being so soft and sweet and clingy with you that when his siblings see him in a store with you they have to do a double take. It would be extra funny if his family didn't know about you yet xD

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ [ imagine #04 ]

[ j. todd ft d. grayson ] ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

── . ✦ in which dick spots something very unusual from his brother at the grocery store.

Late night grocery trips were preferable to Dick for two primary reasons; One, being as the stores were usually less busy, meaning less people would spot him. And two, crime was typically preformed at night here in Gotham, meaning he could keep an extra eye out. It was like killing three birds with one stone!

Turning the corner, Dick hummed a random tune to himself upon entering another produce isle. He was just here to pick up some cereal and butter, nothing too important. As he leaned down to grab what he needed, a friendly couple entered the isle from the other side— giggling and holding hands.

Not wanting to seem nosy or rude, he didn’t stare, still scanning to find the brand he liked.

“Nope- All they do is knock shit over, claw your back, and piss all over the fucking furniture.” The guys voice from across the aisle sounded familiar, a little too familiar— almost like his brother Jason’s. He ruled that one out quickly, though… It was obvious that that dude and Jay acted completely different. Though, the mysterious guy did sound like one of his old friends from high school. Maybe it was him— Damn, how long had it been? What a coincidence to see him here!

Dick looked up, realizing he was wrong as the boyfriend moved his face into view, eyes still glued down to his girl. Oh, it was Jason! What was he doing here at this hour? Dick chuckled, looking back down before snapping his neck up for the fourth time.

Wait— that was Jason?

“But, like- Same for dogs! You have to walk them twenty times a week, and pick up their shit too. No animals are easy to care for, but cats are definitely easier!” You argued with your boyfriend, squeezing his hand to try and enforce your point.

You two had been dating for a good couple months now, but still, Jay was ever so reluctant to get an animal! Every time you brought it up, he’d make the same five points. “Kay- That’s fair, babe, but-”

Jay teased once more, laughing as you tried to protest. Fuck, was it ever cute when you got all defensive like that. It was definitely Jason’s guilty pleasure, and he couldn’t help but tease you when the opportunity was in front of him— practically begging to be taken. Jay quickly leaned down for quick kiss, hands moving to your waist. He hadn’t even realized the two of you weren’t alone in the aisle, nor that the other person here was his brother.

You couldn’t help but just melt into your boyfriend’s touch as he kissed you— moving his lips down your jaw and neck. Your hands steadied on his abdomen, as he lavished your collar in desperate affection.

“Holy fuck.”

Dick was completely in shock. Jason was not only acting clingy with someone— completely vulnerable and desperate, but was also with a god forsaken secret girlfriend he had never told anyone about! It showed in the way he kissed the girl’s neck, and in the way he held her tight, that Jay was in love. But still, was this all some fucking witchcraft? How in gods name did someone get him to open up and act all lovey-dovey like that?

He didn’t know what to do, but sure as hell didn’t want to get caught. Dick slipped out of the asile, your collective giggles still faintly audible as he entered the parallel row. He was debating on taking a photo or not… but he didn’t want to invade the girl’s privacy.

Instead, he made a mental note of the encounter, checking out and leaving, already picturing the faces of his family when he’d bring it up at the next dinner.

[0omillo0]

Hi, I love your content. I was wondering if you could write something like a failed date with bangchan. Like he takes you out to dinner they are about to be late because chan had overslept in the studio and so t/n rushes chan which makes him park in a place where he shouldn't and well a tow truck takes the car and they have to walk to where the car is and your heel breaks and well you resist a little but finally he carries you on his back and you both end up reconciling.

(Sientete libre de ignorarlo sino te gusta la idea 💗)

“Failed” Date

Bangchan x Reader — 방찬

It was supposed to be the perfect night. Bang Chan had promised you a proper date after weeks of hectic schedules and late-night studio sessions. You’d spent the day excited, picking out the perfect outfit and imagining how nice it would be to just have some time with him, away from the chaos of his work.

But, of course, things couldn’t go as planned.

“Chan?” you called, tapping your phone nervously as you stood by the door. The reservation was for 8:00 PM, and it was already 7:45. He still wasn’t out of the studio. You sighed, pacing slightly before deciding to check on him.

You found him slumped in his chair, headphones still around his neck, head resting against the desk as soft music played in the background. His face looked peaceful, though a little tired, and for a moment, you hesitated to wake him up. But then you checked your phone again. 7:50.

“Chan!” you said, a little louder this time, shaking his shoulder gently. He stirred, his eyes fluttering open groggily as he blinked up at you in confusion.

“What…?” He sat up quickly, realizing the time. “Oh no. I fell asleep. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s okay,” you said, though your voice was tinged with urgency. “But we’re really late. We need to go now.”

The rush to leave was a blur. Chan threw on the first jacket he could find and grabbed his keys. You slid into the passenger seat as he fumbled with the GPS, muttering apologies under his breath.

“Chan, we’re already late,” you said, trying not to sound frustrated. “We don’t have time to find perfect parking.”

“I know, I know,” he replied, clearly flustered. He spotted an open space just a block away from the restaurant and, without thinking, pulled in.

“Uh… Chan,” you said, eyeing the bright yellow “No Parking” sign.

“It’s fine,” he said quickly, shutting the car off. “We’ll only be here for a couple of hours. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You gave him a skeptical look but decided not to argue.

Dinner was nice… until it wasn’t.

The restaurant was cozy, and for a while, it felt like things were going to turn around. Chan apologized for being late, his hand holding yours across the table as he promised to make the night perfect. You’d started to relax, letting yourself enjoy the warmth of his presence.

But when you left the restaurant, your stomach dropped.

“Where’s the car?” you asked, your eyes scanning the now-empty parking space.

Chan froze, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to process what was happening.

“No…” he groaned, running a hand through his hair. “No, no, no. It got towed.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I told you that spot wasn’t okay.”

“I know,” he said quickly, guilt evident in his tone. “I’ll fix it. I promise. Let’s just… let’s go to the lot and get it back.”

The two of you started walking, the cold night air nipping at your skin. Chan kept glancing at you, his guilt clear in the way his shoulders were hunched.

“Are you mad?” he asked hesitantly.

“I’m not mad,” you replied, though your voice was tight. “It’s just… this isn’t exactly how I imagined tonight going.”

“I know,” he said softly. “I really wanted this to be special for you.”

You didn’t respond, partly because you didn’t want to say something you’d regret, and partly because your heel chose that moment to snap.

“Are you kidding me?��� you groaned, stumbling slightly as you tried to balance.

Chan was by your side in an instant, his hands steadying you. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said, though your frustration was starting to bubble over. You tried to take another step, but the broken heel made it nearly impossible.

Chan frowned, glancing down at your shoes before making a decision. Without warning, he crouched in front of you.

“What are you doing?” you asked, startled.

“Get on,” he said firmly.

“What? No, I’m not—”

“Y/N,” he interrupted, looking over his shoulder at you. His voice softened. “Please. Let me do this. I need to do something right tonight.”

You hesitated for a moment before sighing and climbing onto his back. He adjusted you easily, his arms strong and steady as he started walking again.

The silence was different this time—less tense, more comforting.

“I’m sorry,” Chan said after a while, his voice quiet but earnest. “For everything. For oversleeping, for parking in a stupid spot, for not making this night what you deserve. You do so much for me, Y/N, and I just… I keep screwing up.”

You rested your chin on his shoulder, your anger melting away as you listened to him. “Chan, you don’t have to be perfect. I just want to spend time with you. That’s what tonight was supposed to be about.”

“I know,” he said softly. “And I promise I’ll do better. I’ll plan another date, and this time, I’ll get it right. No studio naps, no towed cars, no broken heels.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound lightening the mood. “You’re doing okay so far,” you teased.

He smiled, glancing back at you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, tightening your arms around his shoulders. “This isn’t so bad.”

By the time you reached the impound lot, you were both laughing, the tension of the night completely gone.

As Chan set you down, he turned to you, his hands resting on your waist. “Thank you for being patient with me,” he said sincerely.

You smiled, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Thank you for carrying me.”

His eyes softened, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Always.”

And somehow, despite everything that had gone wrong, the night felt perfect after all.

@intartaruginha @hannamoon143 @omgsecretsecret @inlovewithstraykids @whoa-jo @madirye062 @vixensss @sseawavee @emilyywhyy @halfwinterhalfuniverse @velvetmoonlght @flourishmoon

[writingsofwesteros]

Hello may I make request? I was think of fic where heleana and her reader!Sister give a special little private show to their brother aegon (if you get what I mean) BTW LOVE YOUR WORK

AN: Hi, I hope you like it x

NSFW

The soft moans easily fell from the royal chambers; the guards keeping still outside the large, wooden door only stared ahead. They knew better than to even look at each other, never mind speaking about what they could hear. The two of them could only imagine the sight behind the doors they guarded as the soft moans only continued. Helaena could not stop her own hands roaming your soft, now bare body. The Princess only grew more obsessed as she wrapped her arms around your neck to stay impossibly close. “I have missed you,” Helaena whispered so sweetly into your ear as she began to press soft kisses down your neck; taking in your mouth watering scent.

“Shh, I’m here now.” You cooed; brushing your noses together as those matching, bright eyes locked onto yours. It was not long before your lips found her own as you cheekily nibbled on her soft, plump lip before moaning into the act. Your hand slowly began to mouth south as Helaena could only shiver; goosebumps easily moving over her body. A smirk tugged on your sweet, plump lips as you so sweetly cupped her soaked, sensitive pussy. Your thumb brushed over her clit as Helaena could only gasp out your name like one of your mother’s prayers. The sound brought a shiver down your spine as you only continued to tease her. Helaena was so easily brought to the edge.

It was your favourite thing about her, well, that and many other qualities but for now, it was your favourite and oh how you played her so well. Helaena’s sweet song was in your ear as you brushed against her bundle of nerves. Her reactions were always so adorable, your dreamer could never truly control herself. Not with you. Or her husband. A sharp gasp escaped her as two of your slender fingers slowly pushed in; her sweet, creamy pussy clamping down. Your thumb quickened as you ever so gently cupped her chin with your free hand for her eyes to lock with your own. There was a daze on hers as a smirk began to tug on your lips, enjoying the sight of her falling apart.

“There you go, such a good girl I have,” you whispered so sweetly into her ear as you pressed soft kisses down her neck. Her grip on you only tightened as you curled your fingers with practised ease; you knew her body just as well as your own. You watched as Helaena fell into the sheets; her eyes rolling back as you only followed her; hovering over her twitching body. “Now, what a sight this is,” the familiar, teasing voice of your older brother echoed in the royal chambers as your head moved to the side. Helaena’s soft moans only continued as she whimpered underneath you; always begging for attention, just like her brother. Those soft, ample breasts of hers bounced with your movements.

“Hello, brother.” You whispered out in amusement as those big, bright eyes of his locked onto you. His face flushed; from his wine or desire, you were unsure of. Helaena’s lovely moans of your name brought your attention back to her. As well as Aegon’s. The sweet girl could only whimper up at you as her stomach tightened with anticipation. Your thumb brushed against her so sensitive clit once more as she cried out; those big eyes of hers now welling up. Gods, she looked so good, you thought to yourself as you leaned closer. Your noses brushing against each other as Helaena only arched from her expensive sheets she shared with her husband. Not that you were a stranger in this bed.

It took you far longer than you would admit to realise how close Aegon had gotten; his eyes having never left the erotic sight before him. “I love you,” you whispered down to Helaena as you hovered, watching her fall apart. You easily fucked her through her climax; your fingers now completely soaked by her whilst your thumb still teased her clit. Your lips soon met hers as Helaena melted against your touch. A sharp gasp escaped her as you gently removed your slender fingers from her soaked, twitching pussy. As she tried to find her breath, you slowly turned your head towards the watching Prince. A smirk tugged on your lips as you teasingly brought those fingers that had been buried in your sister to his plump lips.

Eagerly as ever, Aegon leaned in; his moans easily falling from his lips as his pink tongue moved down your finger before he took the two digits into his hot mouth and began to suck. All Helaena could do was blush and look up with those big eyes of hers. “So good,” he mumbled mostly to himself as his eyes fluttered shut. “I could just eat her up,” you purred down whilst gracefully moving between her thighs. Goosebumps moved over her soft skin as you pushed her legs apart. Helaena whimpered out your name as her head fell back onto the pillows once more. Aegon’s desire filled gaze following your every move as you placed soft, open mouthed kisses up her inner thighs.

A shiver ran down Helaena as she whined some more; finally looking down to you as your soft, hot mouth greedily captured her pretty, sensitive pussy. A groan echoed around the room as Aegon’s patience had finally been lost. His hand easily pushed inside his breeches as the Prince began to stroke his hard, twitching cock. His thumb brushed over his weeping, mushroom head as his grunts continued to escape. Aegon was never one to be quiet, even now. Helaena only watched breathlessly before you pulled her attention back to you as you began to lap at her. You began to spread her puffy lips apart to capture her defenceless clit and sucked hard.

Her stomach began to tighten once more; eyes welling up as she nibbled on her plump, bottom lip. A moan escaped you at the sight of your brother; his breeches now fell to his feet as his hard cock slapped against his stomach. “Fuck,” Aegon muttered as Helaena’s sweet, ample breasts began to bounce easily as she arched into your touch.

Your own moans soon joined them as you feasted with growing hunger. Your tongue kitten licking her pretty clit some more as the Princess began to thrash against you. Your free hand slowly moved up her twitching body and gently pushed her hips down. All the while, your mouth never strayed from her pretty, pink pussy that gushed for you.

Your thumb softly stroked her hip; calming your lovely Princess as she babbled out your name like a prayer. Aegon’s moans only continued as his stroking quickened; his tongue moving over his bottom lip once more. “Always so greedy,” you could not help but tease in between your lapping. Your moans vibrate against her soaked pussy. 

Helaena’s toes curled as she grabbed at the sheets surrounding her; her mind a haze of pleasure as she whimpered out your name repeatedly. Aegon began to rock against his hand; his cum dripping down his fat length now as you moaned some more. Your eyes never strayed from him; knowing Aegon enjoyed being watched just as much as he enjoyed watching the act. Your hand slowly moved from her hip to reach Helaena’s hand; she instantly grabbed at yours as her eyes locked onto you. She began to spasm against your face; your tongue burrowing into her clamping, creamy pussy. Her climax soon approached; she could never hold back for long, especially so close to her first one. “Please..ple…oh, gods,” Helaena hardly knew what she was begging for as she began to ride your face. Her gasps of pleasure was music to your ears as you only sucked harder on her pretty clit. Aegon could not help himself as he pushed his cum covered fingers began to tease open Helaena’s mouth and she could only moan against him as she sucked.

[allmylovc]

mechanic ! matt teaches sweetheart ! reader a lesson

tw. fingering, p in v, mechanic ! matt being super sexy

Today was an ordinary day for you and matt. He was off to work and you were gonna stop by once or twice just to give him some company here and there.

You went to his shop with one thing in mind; see how long matt’s patience would last. One thing was for sure is that matt was not a patient man whatsoever.

But you already knew what you had to do. You were gonna stop by the shop wearing a short short short skirt, and a top that leaves zero room for imagination.

You also paired that with a cute little lacy thong, just in case.

You went down to the shop to go have lunch with him, walking in his office with the takeout bags in your hand “Hey.” you smiled

Matt turned around, his gaze automatically dropping down to your body and outfit “Woah.. that’s what you’re wearing today?” he questioned.

You placed the food down on the table and sat next to him “Yeah. It’s cute right?” giving him the most ‘innocent’ smile.

Making sure to sit in a way where your skirt rode up your thighs. Matt couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, he was practically drooling.

Every time you handed him something or got to close to him, you made sure your finger or arm brushed against him.

“Is there any water in here?” you asked, matt glanced up at you “Aham,” he hummed “it’s up there.” he said gesturing over to the cabinet by the window.

You stood up and walked over, opening the cabinet, reaching over to grab the water.

“Matt,” you let out a defeated sigh “could you get it for me?” he stood up from his spot and walked over behind you, reaching over for the water.

When he stood behind you, you made sure to move your hips against his crotch.

His reaction was immediate, he put his hands on your hips and scoffed “you think you’re so funny, huh?” he whispered in your ear “teasing me like this? wearing this short ass skirt.” he tugged down on the skirt, his hand moving and gripping your ass.

“What do you mean?” you said—trying to act innocent as if you didn’t know the affect you were having on him.

He let out an annoyed scoff, but didn’t say anything else. Instead he spun you around to face him and cupped your jaw, his face mere inches away from yours.

“Don’t play dumb, sweetheart.” his hot breath heavy against your cheek “You wanna keep teasing me, huh?” he moved you around and pinned you against the desk

His hands reaching down and pushing your skirt up, his hand moving inside your panties.

“You’re soaked.” he laughed bitterly as he plunged two fingers inside you, making you gasp and arch your back. His fingers continuing their slow deliberate thrusts inside your aching core.

Your moans echoing through the room. "This is what you wanted, huh." he whispered in your ear.

Before you could respond he removed his fingers, turning you around—bending you over against the desk. He moved your hair off your back and leaned in "I´m gonna teach you how to not provoke me, and act like the good little sweetheart you are." he whispered, his hand reaching down and unbuttoning his jeans.

His erection press against your entrance, drawing out a soft gasp from you "Beg." he demanded, his fingers tangling with you hair, and pulling you up towards him.

"Matt.. please." your voice barely above a whisper "Need you real bad."

Withou warning he pushed his cock inside of you, groaning in your ear as he began setting a fast and rough pace. The sounds of your moans and skin slapping filled the room, echoing against the walls.

He turned your head over and crashed his lips in yours, his tongue invading your mouth; tasting and exploring every inch.

"You like this don´t you? me fucking you like this." he said against your lips. His fingers tugging your hair, demanding a response "Yes. I love when you fuck me like this." you said as you both moaned in eachothers mouths.

Your legs began shaking, you felt your stomanch twist in knots—the euphoric feeling taking over.

“matt.” you moaned, whimpered his name repeatedly while you felt your organsm reach—cumming all over his cock.

He groaned in your ear as your walls squeezed him so deliciously. He knew better than to cum inside you, he slid out of you with a groan, his fist halting around his cock as his cum spilled all over.

"God you´re amazing." he mumbled, as he rested his cheek against your head. Your breaths coming out in hot pants.

Lesson learned.

©ALLMYLOVC all rights reserved.

⊹ authors note  — here’s an early new years present

tags: @marrykisskilled @chrislilcumslvt @sosasturns @cyberskulzzz @slut4chris888 @waitforyrlove @zebonos @sturnioloangell @slctsblogana @anyaa2s @emely9274 @shadowthesim @frankoceanfanpage @mrsarnold @freshloveee @t0riiiis @jetaimevous

[oaksgrove]

Husband!König would be such a DAD but what if he and reader had problems conceiving and after a long time they had their first born?

This was getting dust on my drafts, sorry nonnie :((( (and it was supposed to be a drabble, but husband!konig is so~)

Waiting for a Miracle

pairing: König x female!reader

synopsis: After years of trying and countless heartbreaks, you and König were on the verge of giving up on starting a family. But when a long-awaited test shows two pink lines, the joy and love that follow are beyond anything you ever imagined.

warnings: pregnancy, bit angsty in the start but heart-melting fluff in the end!

word count: 1869

The small house at the edge of the forest felt like a sanctuary from the moment you saw it. The soft hum of nature, the golden light streaming through the windows, and the little garden brimming with possibility—it felt like it was waiting for you and König to fill it with your story.

When you first moved in, it was empty but hopeful. König insisted on carrying every box himself, his massive frame moving through the house like a gentle giant.

“Don’t lift that,” he called when you tried to help, his Austrian accent warming the syllables. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I’m fine,” you protested, but he shot you a look that brooked no argument.

He wanted to make this house into a home for you. You watched him hang curtains, build furniture, and haul soil for the garden. Every touch was infused with love.

That first night, the two of you sat on the floor surrounded by unpacked boxes, sharing a meal of pizza and wine. You leaned into his side, his arm wrapping around you.

“It’s almost perfect,” you whispered.

“But it will be.” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “One day, we’ll hear little feet running through these halls.”

The words were soft, a promise wrapped in hope.

You hadn’t realized how hard it would be. Each passing month brought another wave of disappointment, each test flashing a single line. The first year, König reassured you with kisses and sweet words.

“It will happen, Liebling. We just need time.”

By the second year, the optimism started to wane. The silence after each test became heavier. König’s arms would wrap around you, holding you close as tears fell onto his chest. He was strong for both of you, but you could see the cracks forming in his armor.

“It’s not your fault,” he told you again and again, as though saying it would erase your guilt.

You tried to find joy in the small things—gardening together, baking, quiet evenings with a book. But the ache never fully left. You both wanted more, needed more.

The cold January wind howled against the windows, rattling the glass as you stood in the kitchen. The clock ticked steadily on the wall, filling the silence between you and König. His large frame leaned against the counter, arms crossed tightly, his head bowed as though weighed down by invisible burdens.

"Maybe this is it," you murmured, your voice breaking. "Maybe we’re not meant to be parents."

König’s head snapped up, his usually calm blue eyes stormy with emotion. "Don’t say that," he said, his voice thick with frustration and something deeper. "We’ve come this far."

You closed your eyes, willing yourself not to cry again. You had shed enough tears over the years—months of negative tests, doctor visits, treatments, and the unbearable ache of hope crumbling into despair.

"I’m tired, König," you whispered. 

He stepped closer, his calloused hands finding yours. "I know," he said softly, pressing his forehead to yours. "But we keep trying, Schatz. For us. For what we’ve dreamed of."

For all his stoic strength, König’s voice cracked, and in that moment, you realized just how much he carried. His unshakable faith, his constant reassurances—they had been for you, to keep you afloat.

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his waist, allowing yourself to draw strength from him. "Okay," you whispered. "One more time."

The call came early in the morning. You had been sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for another pregnancy test.

When your phone buzzed with the alarm you set, König rushed to the bathroom before you could. His expression changed as he listened, his body going completely still.

When he turned to you, his eyes widened.

"You’re pregnant." he whispered.

The room tilted, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. "What?"

König cupped your face, his own trembling. "You’re pregnant, Schatz. It’s real."

Tears blurred your vision as you flung yourself into his arms, sobbing into his chest. "It’s real," you echoed, over and over again, the words tasting like the sweetest miracle.

König held you tighter, his broad shoulders shaking as he let himself cry too. For the first time in years, the weight of waiting and wanting lifted, replaced by a joy so profound it left you both breathless.

The journey wasn’t without its challenges. There were sleepless nights of worry, unexpected scares, and countless doctor visits, but through it all, König remained your rock. He read every parenting book he could find, practiced swaddling teddy bears, and painted the nursery a soft shade of green.

“You’re going to be the best papa,” you told him one evening as you watched him carefully fold tiny clothes.

He glanced at you, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “Only because I have the best mama by my side.”

The first ultrasound appointment was marked on the calendar in König’s precise handwriting. You had seen him prepare for missions with less organization than he did for this moment. Every day, he reminded you of the date with growing excitement, his voice tinged with awe as he spoke about hearing your baby’s heartbeat for the first time.

The morning of the appointment, König woke you before the alarm, his large hands already resting gently on your belly as if he could somehow connect with the life inside.

“Are you ready, Liebling?” he asked, his eyes glowing with anticipation.

You smiled, placing your hand over his. “I think so. Are you?”

“I’ve been ready for this my whole life,” he murmured, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your forehead.

The waiting room was quiet, filled with other couples holding hands or nervously flipping through magazines. But König’s presence was anything but subtle—his height and sheer size made him a beacon in the small room. Yet his nervous energy was endearing; his leg bounced lightly, and his fingers toyed with the edge of his jacket sleeve.

When the nurse called your name, König practically jumped to his feet, gripping your hand like it was a lifeline.

In the dimly lit ultrasound room, the technician chatted with you about the procedure, but you barely registered her words. Your heartbeat was loud in your ears, your grip on König’s hand tightening as she prepped the machine.

And then, it happened.

The soft, rhythmic thump-thump filled the room, faint but steady, like a tiny drumbeat of life.

König’s breath hitched audibly, his free hand flying to cover his mouth as his eyes filled with tears. “That’s… our baby?”

The technician smiled warmly. “That’s your baby.”

You turned to look at König, finding his expression utterly unguarded—pure joy, disbelief, and love shining through. He bent down, pressing his forehead against yours, his tears mingling with your own.

“Liebling,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “That’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.”

You laughed softly, your own emotions overwhelming as you placed your hand over his heart. “We did this, König. They’re real.”

-

That evening, König was a whirlwind of energy. He insisted on cooking dinner, humming softly to himself as he worked. You watched from the kitchen table, a hand resting on your stomach, marveling at how alive your home felt with this newfound joy.

The two of you stayed like that for hours, dreaming aloud about your future. König spoke about teaching your child his native language, about the places he wanted to show them, and the values he hoped to instill.

That night, as you lay in bed, König curled around you protectively, one large hand resting over your belly. He murmured soft words in German—promises, dreams, and love—as if your baby could already hear him.

And for the first time in years, the future felt bright, filled with the heartbeat of hope.

Months passed like a dream, each one filled with small milestones that brought you and König closer to meeting your baby, Hans. König became an expert in everything—prenatal classes, baby books, and even assembling the nursery furniture (though he grumbled when the instructions were unclear). Every evening, he talked to your belly, telling stories or humming lullabies in his rich, deep voice.

And then, the day finally came.

It was just after midnight when the contractions started. At first, you thought it might be a false alarm, but by the time the pain intensified, König was already wide awake, alert as if he were preparing for battle.

“Hospital bag,” he muttered, grabbing it with one hand while the other supported you. “Car keys. Phone. Let’s go, Liebling.”

You couldn’t help but laugh through the pain at his efficiency. “You’re more nervous than I am.”

“I’ve never done this before,” he said earnestly, his free hand brushing your hair back from your face. “But I’ll do it perfectly.”

The drive to the hospital felt like an eternity, but König stayed calm, his hand resting reassuringly on your knee the entire time.

Hours later, the delivery room was filled with a blur of voices and activity. König stayed at your side, his hand gripping yours tightly as you worked through the contractions.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured, his voice steady despite the tears shining in his eyes. “You’re incredible, Liebling.”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the cries of your baby filled the room.

“It’s a boy!” the doctor announced, holding up the tiny, squirming bundle.

König froze, his breath catching as he stared at your son. When the nurse placed Hans in his arms, his hands trembled slightly, but his expression was one of awe.

“Hallo, Hans,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m your Papa.”

You watched through tears as König bent down, carefully placing him in your arms.

That first night in the hospital, König refused to leave your side. He sat in the chair beside your bed, cradling Hans like he was the most precious thing in the world.

“He’s so small,” König whispered, his fingers gently tracing Hans’ tiny hand.

You smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder. “He’ll grow fast. Too fast.”

König shook his head, his eyes never leaving your son. “Not fast enough. I want to remember every moment.”

As Hans stirred in his arms, König began humming a lullaby in German, his deep voice soothing both you and the baby into a peaceful calm.

The first days at home were filled with joy and chaos. König insisted on doing everything—diaper changes, late-night feedings, and even the laundry. You often found him sitting in the nursery, holding Hans close as he talked to him softly.

One evening, as you stood in the doorway, watching König rock Hans to sleep, he looked up and smiled at you.

“He’s perfect,” he said softly, his voice filled with wonder.

You walked over, wrapping your arms around him and resting your head against his chest. “He is. And he has the best papa in the world.”

König kissed the top of your head, his voice tender. “This is everything I’ve ever wanted. You and Hans—my family.”

And as the three of you sat together, wrapped in the quiet warmth of your home, you felt a deep, unshakable sense of love that would carry you through every moment to come.

[charlesslut16]

-New Year's Eve-

summary : you and charles celebrate into the new year

PAIRINGS : charles leclerc x fem!reader

WARNINGS : none

note : i hope that you start good into the new year and have a great next year with your loves ❤️❤️

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The night air in Monaco was crisp and cool, the city twinkling with the lights of countless celebrations as the clock ticked closer to midnight. The harbor was lined with extravagant yachts, their lights reflecting off the shimmering water.

The sound of laughter, chatter, and the clinking of glasses filled the streets as the world prepared for the arrival of a brand new year. And amidst it all, there was a sense of magic in the air that seemed to surround you and Charles.

You stood on the balcony of a lavish penthouse overlooking the city, a glass of champagne in hand, Charles by your side. His arm was wrapped around your waist, pulling you close to him as the two of you gazed at the scene below. The night felt perfect, everything aligning just as it should.

"I still can't believe we're here," you said, your voice quiet, as you leaned against his chest.

Charles smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Me neither. But I'm so happy we are. It feels like the start of something incredible, doesn't it?"

You nodded, turning in his arms to face him. The warmth of his gaze melted the coolness of the evening. Charles’ hand gently cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing along your skin as he looked down at you. There was a quiet certainty in his eyes, an unspoken promise that made your heart swell. You had been together for a while now, and everything about your relationship with him felt so effortless, so right.

“I can’t believe how lucky I am,” Charles continued, his voice soft but full of emotion. “To be here, with you, starting a new year together.”

You smiled, your heart racing as you reached up to cup his face. “I feel the same way,” you whispered. “You make everything feel like it’s meant to be.”

The crowd below began to get louder as the final minutes of the year ticked away. The countdown was near. You could feel the excitement building, the anticipation of the moment when everything would change, when the calendar would turn, and the world would begin anew.

But for you, nothing felt as significant as the moment right now—standing with Charles, in his arms, with the promise of the future ahead of you.

“Five... four...” the voice of the host echoed from the party inside. The crowd joined in, their voices rising in excitement.

Charles looked at you, his hand still resting gently on your cheek, and his thumb brushed your lips. "This time last year, I would never have imagined I'd be here with you, in this moment."

You chuckled softly. "Neither would I," you admitted. “But now that we're here, it feels perfect.”

“Three... two... one..."

The crowd erupted into cheers as the new year arrived, and in that instant, Charles leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that felt like it was meant for the very first moment of the year. It was tender, sweet, and full of all the love that had been quietly growing between the two of you. The world around you faded, and in that kiss, it was just you and Charles. No more waiting, no more wondering if things would fall into place. Everything was exactly where it needed to be.

When you finally broke apart, your forehead rested against his, and you both laughed softly, the sound of fireworks bursting overhead filling the night.

“Happy New Year, mon amour,” Charles whispered, his voice filled with warmth.

“Happy New Year, Charles,” you replied, your heart full as you looked into his eyes.

The night carried on with laughter, dancing, and moments of quiet connection between the two of you. But no matter what happened, no matter how many people came and went, you knew that this moment—this perfect, beautiful moment with Charles—would be the one you carried with you into the new year.

And with him by your side, you knew that whatever the future held, it would be nothing short of extraordinary.

[starrieangel]

🩵 Post Crash Rescued! Curly Headcanons 🩵

Headcanons for a recovered Curly, and just babbling about what his life might be like ♡

Random Headcanons for my favorite character 🩵 I seriously think abt him a lot and what his life might be like, so this is the culmination of all of my Curly daydreams ~

He's way better at technology now. Like before he acted like a dad who could barely use facebook, but after learning how to use a computer using just his eye movements, you could say he's reasonably tech savvy. 

He has a speech impediment. I imagine he couldn't talk on the tulpar because of some sort of paralysis or maybe nerve damage, but with some speech therapy and physical therapy, he learns to speak again. He's still not great at it though, his voice is very soft, so mostly uses his aac device so others can understand him. 

His shorter leg gives him more pain than his longer one. He has to use a cane sometimes for that side. (My reasoning is because the shorter leg is the one Jimmy hacked away oops, he's a worse surgeon than Anya I guess)

He's not all that insecure about his appearance, all things considered. Yes it's weird to look in the mirror and see someone totally different, but he just tries to keep good humor about it and stay positive (laugh to keep from crying at times). I'm sure he does mourn his good looks, but most of all he misses his hair. He doesn't think he looks ugly though, and he doesn't talk down to himself for his looks, because he wasn't all that vain to begin with. 

That being said, he does actually get pretty upset when people stare at him in public. He doesn't say anything, but you can sense he gets a bit quieter when he notices it. It's worse when it's kids, or (his absolute nightmare) a kid crying or making a comment about his appearance, saying he looks scary. That always makes him feel bad. :( 

He carries candy in his pockets. Not for himself, but to give to kids, because he doesn't want them to think he's scary. He actually really appreciates when a kid approaches him and just asks him a question instead of crying or running away. He'll crouch down and let them look at his prosthetic up close, or explain to them how his aac device works. ♡

Even though he hates the negative attention he might get, he still normally doesn't wear sunglasses or a mask to hide his face. He doesn't want to feel like he has to hide, just wants to be a normal guy, which he is..! But he still tries to frequent the same places, to get less attention. For example, the baristas at his favorite coffee shop all recognize him, and the baggers at the grocery store. It makes him feel like a regular joe again. :)

He has an emotional support cat in his apartment ♡ If this is after the Tulpar, then it's for the trauma of losing his crew at the hands of his best friend, etc. If it's an earth au, then it's just to cope with the trauma of being in some sort of accident and having to start a new life, and the hardships of relearning to walk and take care of himself again. 

He was already a cozy guy, but now he's even cozier. Loves warm drinks, sitting with his cat, fireplaces, books. He loves books. He kind of liked reading before, especially historical fiction, but he always liked his other hobbies more. Now that it's harder to do his more active hobbies, he utilizes that time to read all of the books he's always wanted to read. I imagine if he worked, he would work at a bookstore :) (Manager of course, he is the Captain, afterall!) ♡

[verstappenf1lecccc]

Could you please write something with Lando when you’re Bradley Coopers daughter and you met Lando during an Grand Prix and have been dating for a few months and now it’s time for him too meet you’re dad for the first time and as you get ready you sense that he’s nervous you saw it on his face when you told him that you have a dinner in an high end New York restaurant with you’re dad and his girlfriend Gigi. You’re dad wanted to meet him as soon as he found out that you dated someone but Lando had some grace period with the season but no that the season came to an end he has no other chance you’re not particularly concerned about you’re dad. As you arrive at the Restaurant almost too late as Lando and you got caught up in a little make out session which almost ended in you being late. As it turns out Landos concerns where groundless in the end Lando gets even invited for dinner the day after Christmas you almost choke on you’re drink.❤️

It had been a few months since you and Lando started dating, and every day with him had been full of sparks, laughter, and more chemistry than you’d ever imagined. But tonight was different. Tonight, Lando was about to meet your dad for the first time. And though you knew your father was laid-back, charming, and would likely get along with anyone, you could sense the nerves in Lando.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Lando asked, running a hand through his already tousled hair, his voice laced with anxiety. “I mean, I’ve never done this before.”

You smiled gently, setting down your makeup brush to meet his gaze. “Lando, it’s just dinner. My dad’s cool. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

But the more you looked at him, the more you realized that Lando wasn’t just nervous. There was something deeper there. It wasn’t just about meeting your dad—it was about family.

Lando, you knew, had always been close to his own family. The love he had for his parents and sisters was apparent in every conversation you had. But family had always been complicated for him. It was his rock, his safe place, and something he cherished deeply. The idea of gaining your dad’s approval seemed almost too important to him. You could feel it radiating off of him, this quiet fear of not being good enough.

“You’ve always told me how important family is to you,” you said softly, stepping closer to him. “This isn’t any different. My dad’s going to love you.”

Lando smiled weakly but didn’t say anything. You could tell his thoughts were racing. His gaze flicked to the door, then back to you. “I’ve never wanted to impress anyone this much,” he admitted quietly, almost like he didn’t want to say it out loud.

Your heart ached for him. He’d conquered the world of Formula 1 with ease, but this? Meeting your dad? It was a different kind of challenge.

Reaching up, you cupped his face in your hands, guiding his eyes to meet yours. “You’re already more than impressive to me,” you whispered, your voice soft but full of sincerity.

Lando exhaled slowly, his expression softening. For a brief moment, the world outside of the two of you seemed to fade away. His lips brushed against yours, slow and gentle, his touch warm and comforting.

“I really hope you’re right,” he murmured.

As the evening progressed, you and Lando rushed through the streets of New York, trying to make it to the restaurant on time. You hadn’t realized how distracted you both had become in the car—stolen kisses, whispered words, and the touch of his fingers against your skin had led to a few minutes of passion that made you almost forget about the dinner entirely.

“Shit, we’re going to be late,” you muttered under your breath, glancing at the time.

Lando chuckled softly, his hand slipping into yours as you both made your way up the stairs to the restaurant. “We’re always late,” he teased, though you could sense the nerves still swirling beneath his playful exterior.

When you entered the restaurant, your dad was already seated at a private table, along with his girlfriend, Gigi. Both of them stood up as you walked in, and you immediately noticed your dad’s relaxed smile, which only made you more confident that Lando would be fine. Gigi, ever the charming woman, gave you a warm smile as well.

But Lando? He was stiff as a board, his hands stuffed awkwardly into his pockets. His gaze flickered between you and your dad, looking almost like a deer caught in headlights. You squeezed his hand, trying to ground him.

“You’re doing great, Lando,” you murmured.

Your dad stood up, extending his hand to Lando. “Well, well. The man who’s been stealing my daughter away,” he said with a grin, but his tone was lighthearted, warm.

Lando froze for a moment, before finally offering a hand and shaking your dad’s firmly. His face flushed slightly, and he shot you a quick, uncertain glance, silently pleading for reassurance.

“It’s really good to meet you,” Lando said, his voice a little rough. “I’m… I’m a fan of yours.”

Your dad laughed heartily. “Glad to hear it. Hope I don’t disappoint,” he said, winking at you. “You’re welcome to join us. Gigi, Lando—this is my daughter’s new boyfriend. I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

It was only after the initial awkwardness that Lando seemed to relax a little. As dinner progressed, you could see how much he wanted to make a good impression. He was constantly attentive to your dad and Gigi, asking them questions, engaging in light-hearted conversation, all the while sending you glances that told you just how much he cared about what they thought of him.

When your dad excused himself to take a phone call, Gigi leaned toward you, her smile soft and encouraging.

“He’s nervous, huh?” she said quietly.

You nodded, watching Lando. “He really wants your approval,” you said, almost matter-of-factly. “He’s never felt this way before.”

Gigi’s gaze softened, understanding in her eyes. “He’s a keeper. I can see why you like him.”

The words meant more than you realized, and you shot Lando a small smile, his gaze flicking to yours. There was so much unspoken between the two of you, a deep connection that had only strengthened since you first met.

As the evening came to a close, and your dad and Gigi began discussing plans for the holiday, something unexpected happened. Your dad looked over at Lando, a warm grin playing at the corner of his lips.

“You know, we’re hosting a family gathering the day after Christmas,” he said casually. “It’d be great if you could come. Gigi and I would love to have you.”

Lando nearly choked on his drink. “Wait, really?” he asked, looking at you in disbelief.

You blinked in surprise, then smiled. “I think he’s asking you to join us.”

“I’d love to,” Lando stammered, clearly surprised by the sudden invitation. His eyes widened as he looked at you. “Your dad actually likes me?”

You laughed softly, nudging his knee under the table. “I told you, he’d be fine.”

Later that night, as you and Lando made your way back to your apartment, the tension between the two of you finally broke. Lando pulled you into his arms as soon as the door clicked shut behind you. His hands were shaking slightly, but when he kissed you, it was full of hunger and need, his lips soft but demanding.

“You have no idea how much this means to me,” he murmured against your lips, his breath warm and urgent. “I’ve never wanted anyone to like me this much.”

You kissed him harder, unable to stop the wave of emotion that surged through you. His hands moved lower, pulling you closer, his touch familiar yet still electrifying. He pushed you gently against the door, the kiss deepening, as if the release of his nervous energy needed to be channeled into something more.

And for the first time, you realized just how much you meant to each other. The night was just beginning, and you both knew it would be one to remember.

“You’re not just impressing them,” you whispered as you pulled away for a breath, your fingers trailing along the sharp line of his jaw. “You’re impressing me, Lando.”

His eyes darkened, and his lips curved into a smirk that spoke volumes. “Good. Because it’s only ever been you that matters the most.”

[madrabit]

Okay now I’m thinking about bojance again so have this :3

🩷

Imagine they’re all having a lazy afternoon together at their apartment, nothing to do and nowhere to be for once in a very long time, and Jan finds himself sitting in the armchair they have in the living room.

He’s reading a book with headphones on as he listens to some new music, something he hasn’t had time to do in what feels like an eternity, and he allows himself to relax and get lost in the pages of his book.

He doesn’t realize just how involved he has been in the story until Igor comes over to nudge his legs, asking for attention. It is with a fond roll of his eyes that Jan sets his book aside, leaving room for his beloved cat to settle comfortably on his lap – which he does, immediately pushing his little head against Jan’s hand with a content purr when it comes down to pet him between his ears.

The soft smile painting Jan’s face becomes even softer with the sight that greets him once he looks up: Nace is lying on his back on the couch, Bojan pressed against his side with his head pillowed on his shoulder, and little Pino curled up into a ball on Nace’s chest, the steady rise and fall of both their breaths causing Bojan’s hand, which is resting on the dog’s tiny back, to move with them.

They’re all fast asleep, judging by the light snoring coming from all of them – yes, both his boyfriends and the puppy – and Jan feels his heart melt inside his chest.

All for being a cat person, Jan thinks as he feels Igor cuddle up a little closer to him.

He takes out his phone and snaps a few pictures, quickly sending them to their group chat. He ponders for a moment before giving in and setting one of them as his phone’s wallpaper.

A few seconds of staring fondly at the screen later, Igor lets out a little protest that makes Jan chuckle, but he still puts his phone down and starts petting him again.

“How did we manage to score not one, but three puppies, huh?” Jan asks, his voice barely above a whisper so as not to disturb anyone’s sleep.

Igor meows softly.

Uhmm, yeah, he thinks, and, with a smile still on his face, he lets his eyes fall closed too and his mind be pulled into the land of dreams.

In that quiet moment, he knows that when he wakes up, he will be exactly where he wants to be, exactly where he belongs – surrounded by the people he loves most in the world, with their pets, in the apartment they’ve made their home; a place rich with memories, laughter, and love.

Oh god, this is everything 😭😭😭😭

Jan just so fond of his puppies and you just KNOW Bojan and Nace would fall asleep cuddling with Pino 🥺🥺🩷🩷🩷

Them being domestic with each other is one of my favourite things ever, and it's so sweet 😭 jan setting the three of them as a wallpaper just makes me absolutely melt 🥹🥹🥺😭😭😭

Thank you for sharing that, you get a big big kiss on the forehead and a biggest hug ever 😭🩷

[v6quewrlds]

💞 + andrei iosivas + fluff

imagine comforting homesick andrei.

Andrei sighed heavily, the warm steam of the shower cascading down his broad shoulders as he stepped out of the steamy embrace. He wrapped a towel around his waist and padded into the bathroom, where you were waiting for him with a gentle smile. You sat on the sink counter, your feet dangling over the edge, a shaving kit and an array of skincare products laid out neatly beside you.

You offered him a soft smile as he dried off, the concern in your eyes speaking volumes. "Better?" you asked, your voice a soothing melody amidst the quiet of the bathroom.

Andrei nodded, eyes downcast and heavy as he pulled a long-sleeved Princeton Track & Field shirt over his head. It was a memento from his college days, a simple reminder of the simpler times when the only thing he had to worry about was catching a football and keeping his grades up. You had noticed how uncharacteristically withdrawn he'd been the last few days, and you knew it was more than just a slump in the season. Andrei had mentioned he hadn't been home in over a year, and you could see the toll it was taking on him.

"Come on, let's get you pampered," you said, your voice as soothing as you could muster. You motioned for him to step between your legs, holding your arms open for a moment to allow him the chance to lean into you. When he did, you wrapped your arms around his waist and held him close, feeling the warmth of his skin and the solidness of his torso. For a brief moment, he leaned his head into your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume mixing with your lotion. You felt his chest rise and fall with a deep sigh.

You picked up the shaving gel and spread it gently over his jawline, your fingertips tracing the contours of his face with care. He leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed. The scent of aloe filled the air, a sharp contrast to the deep notes of the shampoo that still lingered from his shower. You took the razor and began to shave him, taking care not to nick his skin.

"I know you're homesick," you said softly, your voice carrying over the sound of the running water as you rinsed the razor. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

Andrei took a moment, his eyes still closed, before finally speaking. "It's just…everything's so different here," he began, his words thick with emotion. "Back home, we'd spend every weekend at the beach, bonfires with my friends, my brother…my parents." He swallowed hard. "They're getting older, you know?"

Your heart ached for him. You nodded, your grip on the razor steady despite the sudden heaviness in the air. "Yeah," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "You don't want to miss out on those moments."

Andrei leaned into you, his eyes still closed. "Exactly," he murmured. "It's just…it's not just that. It's the food, the way the air smells, the way the ocean sounds."

You hummed softly, allowing him to continue. You knew that sometimes words weren't enough, that sometimes all someone needed was to be heard. You carefully shaved along the edge of his jaw, your touch feather-light.

"I love playing football, don't get me wrong," Andrei continued, his voice a little stronger now. "But sometimes, I just want to leave it all behind and go home to Hawaii. Just for a weekend, you know? Just to be present there with my family."

You nodded in understanding, your gaze lingering on his profile. Carefully, you rinsed the last of the shaving gel off his face, using a warm washcloth to wipe away any remaining traces. "I know you think it isn't worth it to fly out just for a weekend, but maybe you should?" you suggested, your voice gentle. "Even if it's just for a day or two, to recharge. I'm sure your family would love to see you."

He frowned, hesitating. "The season's so hectic, and the flights are crazy expensive."

You knew his schedule was tight, with games and practices eating up most of his week, and the cost of last-minute flights to Hawaii didn't help. But you also knew how much his family meant to him. You turned to reach for your toner, the cool liquid bringing a chill to his skin. "I'll check the prices for you," you said, your voice measured. "Maybe you could plan ahead for the end of the season?"

[landoom]

organised by @33max and @leatherandcherryblossoms - header from them

List of prompts

Day 11: ❤️‍🔥 Virginity (I won't be able to finish every prompt today but I'll keep going in January)

“I’ve…I’ve never…” Oscar says when Carlos puts his hands on his hips to bring their bodies closer.

“Never what, carino?”

“Done…Done it like that.” Oscar says, feeling stupid for not being able to say the words out loud. It’s not like he’s a complete virgin… It just took an exasperating sexy Spaniard to make him realise he might want to touch another dick than his own at 23 years old. 

“Like what?” Carlos asks again but before Oscar can try to voice it, he gets distracted by Carlos’ lips on his neck and his hands on his ass.

“With… With a guy.” Oscar finally says and he can feel his face warm up, knowing he’s probably blushing so hard.

“Oh?” Carlos stops touching Oscar and looks at him with a more serious expression. For a second, Oscar thinks he just spoiled everything, that Carlos would not want to fuck a stupid gay virgin.

But then Carlos smiles and Oscar can breathe again.

“It’s okay. We can take our time… You decide what we do, okay?”

Oscar nods. But soon realises he doesn’t really know what he wants to do. Like he theoretically knows what they could do… It’s not like he hasn’t thought about it in the past months before they finally realised the magnet thing was mostly some unacknowledged attraction.

“I– I’d like to–” he starts, not knowing how to end that sentence.

Carlos gently strokes Oscar’s sides. Their bodies are still close to each other but the sexual tension is subsiding and Oscar feels bad for that.

“Oscar… Tell me. Tell me what you thought about, what you imagined…”

Oscar looks at Carlos, there is still that soft smile. 

“I–”

“Please,” Carlos insists and Oscar thinks he can at least do that.

“I thought about kissing you…” he starts, simple, safe. They did plenty of that already.

“Where?” Carlos asks as his hand slowly goes under Oscar’s shirt to touch his skin.

“Your mouth… Your neck.”

Carlos encourages him with a little moaning sound. Oscar lets his head fall against Carlos’ shoulder, closes his eyes and remembers all the things he imagined doing with Carlos.

“Your torso…I… I’d lick it…Your chest hair…Just put my fingers through it…and touch…touch you.”

“I think I’d love that. Come on…” 

Carlos gently led him away from the kitchen counter they had started making out against. He guided them to the couch and immediately put his arm around Oscar’s shoulders to bring him closer.

“Keep telling me, carino.”

“I… I’d like to… To be naked with you.” Oscar says, trying not to feel too awkward about such a lame statement. It’s the truth, though. He thought about that. Often. Just being able to admire Carlos’ naked body.

“And what would you do then?”

Carlos’ hands were back stroking Oscar’s hips but he wasn’t really paying attention as he was slowly getting caught up in his fantasy.

“I would touch you and… Ask you to touch me, too.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere… I… I want to feel your hands on me.” 

Carlos’ firm, tanned, masculine hands over his pale skin. 

“I’m sure my hands could do more than that…” Carlos offers and that’s when Oscar realises his hands have crept under his t-shirt and toys with the belt of his jeans.

“I… I want you to touch my–...”

“Tell me, Oscar…”

“Please.”

“Ask me Oscar…” Carlos insists as he deftly opens the fly of Oscar’s jeans.

“Touch…Touch my dick, please…”

“How could I refuse…”

And then, Oscar felt Carlos’ fingers sneak under his underwear and finally touch his hard dick… The first time another man touched him there…

It’s messy after that. Oscar pleads for more and Carlos kisses each of those pleas as his hand makes Oscar see stars… It’s not the perfect handjob, their position is not right, and it’s a bit hurried. But it still feels like the perfect first time with Carlos for Oscar.

[forgetful-nerd]

You know what would be such good angst material?

These two meeting.