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ugh-yoongi · 10 months

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a word from our sponsors | knj

you’ve co-hosted a podcast with namjoon for three years; have known him even longer. the two of you have always been the picture of platonic, but that hasn’t stopped the internet from doing what the internet does. the shipping? a little weird at first, but you can understand it: two attractive twenty-somethings always in close proximity to one another, obvious (platonic!) chemistry—people have created ships for less. the fanfiction, though? also pretty funny… until you can’t stop thinking about it. 🎙️

pairing: namjoon x f. reader genre: podcast, friends to lovers au; crack, smut, fluff rating: explicit. minors do not interact. warnings: parasocial relationships galore, a m*n with a p*dcast, author abuses italics, swearing, alcohol, reader uses a pseudonym/nickname (piper) because writing the meta fanfiction scene would've been too weird without one and i refuse to use y/n, dialogue-heavy but it is a fic about a podcast, everyone is down horrendous, mentions of social media & fake r*ddit posts, ex-boyfriend yoongi but in a good, healthy way. let me know if i missed anything but mostly this is just two goofballs not realizing they're in love with one another. smut warnings: kissing, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex (fiction), protected vaginal sex (nonfiction), a lil squirting, mild degradation, mentions of a p*ss kink but there is no actual pee i promise (...lest?), i didn't intend to write size kink but it's namjoon so it just showed up anyway, slight dom!joon, everyone orgasms. wordcount: 17.5k credits: this was entirely inspired by that one episode of the basement yard where frankie reads the smut fic of him and joe, so credits to both that author and that podcast. spotify, for their podcast name generator. astro-seek for helping me drag namjoon astrologically. an extra special, gigantic thanks to @effortandmore for writing the meta fanfic (3k of it, no less!) and not batting an eye when i said it could have pee in it as a joke. this is as much yours as it is mine. finally, @hot-soop and @the-boy-meets-evil for reading this over for me and telling me i'm funny. author's note: happy birthday, indigo! here i am to validate every fear you've ever had that the people you write porn about may one day read it. live and on air. :)

You’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years.

You can learn a lot about a guy in that amount of time.

None of it is especially salacious. You know all about his family and his dog and the brand of recycled paper towels he insists on buying in bulk. You know what he’d written his grad school thesis on and what he’d looked like in the thick of it, when he was staving off his fifth mental break of the week. You know how fidgety he gets when it’s closing in on Friday night and he’s got a date—how much he stresses over which restaurant to pick, which cologne, which expensive cashmere sweater to wear.

You also know what the internet thinks about him. Intimately.

Kim Namjoon, according to the internet, is peak husband material. He has cheeks ripe for pinching and thighs small countries would go to war to defend. He has a lap that doubles as a seat and dimples people want to get baptized in. He has Instagram selfies with hundreds of thousands of likes and comment sections full of intelligible keysmashes, especially the ones he posts from the gym.

Kim Namjoon, according to the internet, is a man written by a woman.

Looking at him now, you aren’t sure that’s true, you think people just need to raise their standards. Namjoon is just… Namjoon. He’s intelligent and kind and up to date on modern feminist theory, is all. And, sure, maybe in the current political landscape that puts him far above the rest of men, but the way the internet has latched onto him is a little concerning.

“There’s another post about whether or not we’re dating,” you say, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

sooo let’s be real here, we ALL think they’re dating, right?? Posted by u/pod-shipper 2 hours ago

Just like he always does, Namjoon huffs out a soft laugh, makes his way around to your side of the table. Puts his large hands on your shoulders as he leans in close to read from your screen, snorting every time he reads a sentence he finds particularly amusing. Whichever cologne he’d chosen this morning is, admittedly, very nice.

It’s sooo obvious, especially in the episodes they film and post on YouTube. The way they look at each other?? I don’t even look at my HUSBAND like that! (+1264) ↳ omg ur sooooo right! i could MAYBE buy that they aren’t full on dating, but they’ve def at least slept together. Namjoon is so 🔥🔥🔥 (+791) ↳ um how can namjoon be dating her when he’s already married to me 😌💅 (+3) ↳ For the millionth time, can we not speculate on their personal lives? This is weird and reinforces really harmful ideas that men and women can’t just be friends. (-51)

“How come they never talk about how hot you are?”

You can tell by the look on Namjoon’s face that he hadn’t meant to say that—or, if he did, he didn’t mean to say it like that, with an entire pout, eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. “Cursed to be ugly and dumb,” you joke to ease the sudden tension, reading the comment that simply says you’d have to be the dumbest person alive to not sleep with Namjoon.

He scrunches his nose at that. Returns to his side of the table. “Yeah, I don’t think so, lots of people haven’t slept with me.” Starts to unpack all the gear from his bag before he says, “Hey, all that stuff—does it bother you?”

“What do you mean?” you answer, the corner of a protein bar stuck in your mouth. Namjoon always insists on recording at the most inconvenient times.

“People thinking we’re together,” he clarifies.

You shrug. “I dunno. Not really. Comes with the territory, I think, not to mention how much you love to overshare—”

“Hello?”

“I’m just saying,” you retort, hands raised in self-defense. “There really was no need for you to mention you blew your grad school stipend on a porn scam.” Namjoon looks affronted, like he can’t believe you’d stoop so low as to bring that up. “Or that you lost your virginity at fifteen.”

“We have a relationship podcast,” he states simply. “That’s kind of what we do, right? Talk about relationships? And the spectrum of human sexuality is part of that.”

You slump back in your chair as you quirk an eyebrow. “No one said it wasn’t, I just said you overshare. Which you do.”

“And that’s why there’s a dozen Reddit posts a week discussing whether or not we’re dating? Because I overshare?”

“Yeah, exactly. That’s the kind of behavior that leads to parasocial relationships. People latch onto that shit. Makes them think they’re your friend.” He glares. “Don’t give me that look, you know I’m right. It’s bad enough you’ve word-vomited all this highly personal information about yourself, but to not even do it under a pseudonym? It’s like you’re begging for trouble.”

Another comment he doesn’t even realize he’s making: “I don’t beg. For anything.”

To this day, you’re not sure why Namjoon asked you to co-host a podcast with him.

His reasoning had been simple: “You’re my best friend and we don’t agree on anything.” Hard to argue with that. Namjoon has seemingly endless patience, even in the face of things he shouldn’t entertain, and you… do not, to put it simply.

You’re not a cold person. Your fuse isn’t short. You’re just a little jaded, is all. Have far less propensity for bullshit than Namjoon does, so the two of you play well off each other. You end a sentence with a well-punctuated full stop and Namjoon’s right behind you to sigh and say maybe you shouldn’t be so hasty, not everything in the world can be so black or white.

Except some things are. Somewhere along the way, the podcast—which Namjoon had affectionately named Place Him Gently in the Garbage, even though some people should be shoved in there with force—had picked up a following. A big one. And now, every week, you’re inundated with emails ranging in severity. Sometimes people just want to vent after their tenth bad date in a row or share funny stories, and Namjoon lets you take the lead on those, but sometimes it’s a little more serious. That’s where Namjoon shines, all that endless patience, and people love him for it.

“What’s on the agenda today?” he asks, accepting a thick stack of papers from Jungkook.

Ah, Jungkook.

You aren’t sure what he actually does. Some kind of social media manager, which is obvious from the wildly out-of-context clips he posts of you to TikTok, and it’s his responsibility to go through the thousands of emails you get from listeners, but aside from that all you’ve got are your suspicions that he just sticks around to swindle Namjoon out of more and more money.

“I’m in a silly goofy mood,” comes Jungkook’s reply, and you let out a witch cackle as Namjoon winces. Nothing good ever comes of Jungkook being in a silly goofy mood, and that’s quite alright by you.

Fifteen minutes later finds you with a camera in your face that you greet with an unamused, flat stare. Jungkook is used to it by now. Just films for a few seconds before turning his attention to an unaware Namjoon. Head down, pen and highlighter going a mile a minute as he pores over the stack of papers with all the doggedness and eagle-eyed stare of a literature professor.

That’s the thing about Namjoon—he takes this really seriously. So do you, but not in the ways Namjoon does. He’s all skill and determination and you’re color commentary. It works. It clearly works, so you aren’t too bent out of shape about it, but sometimes you worry. Namjoon takes this really seriously and sometimes you worry that he takes it too seriously, that he carries the burdens and worries of all these strangers, that he’s trying to solve and fix things that aren’t his responsibility to solve and fix.

So he takes it really seriously and you don’t take it as seriously as you maybe should, and everything is by design. Balanced.

Twenty minutes later finds you staring across the table at Namjoon, who asks, “Are you ready?” and does one last equipment check before he launches into, “Welcome back to another episode of Place Him Gently in the Garbage with Namjoon and Piper. What’s new with you, Pipe? Any fun news?”

Pipe. It drives you nuts. Feels like nails on a chalkboard. “I see you almost every single day,” you respond dryly. “But for the sake of entertainment, I’m thinking about getting a cat.”

“A cat?” Namjoon parrots, and his eyebrows disappear beneath his fringe because he knows what that means.

You’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years, but you’ve known him even longer.

Since your first year of college, which is also when you met Yoongi. Yoongi, your ex. Yoongi, the person you’d been with for six years and had planned a life around. Yoongi, now one of your closest friends, because the two of you still love one another but no longer in that way, which is fine. But also—Yoongi, allergic to cats.

So, yeah. Namjoon knows what that means, and he has the good sense not to mention it. Unlike him, you’re intensely private and keep your cards close to your chest. Your listeners don’t even know your real name, let alone that you’d gone through a breakup a year ago.

“What kind of cat?” he continues, like his entire world hasn’t just been turned upside-down.

You shrug. “Eh, I don’t know. Probably one that’s been in the shelter a long time, I guess. I’m not too fussy, you know?”

“Right, a cat is a cat,” Namjoon says, thinking he’s done something. You and Jungkook gasp at the same time. “What? Why are you giving me that look?”

“Because that’s a fucked up thing to say! A cat is not just a cat. They have little personalities, just like people. You’ve got—”

“But you just said you’re not fussy,” he interjects. “And I know they have personalities and that you have to find one that suits your lifestyle! Like, you can’t have one of those really cool cats that likes to go kayaking and shit, it’d never work—”

“What does that mean? Why couldn’t I have a cool cat?”

“Hey, all you cool cats and kittens,” Namjoon mocks, and you can tell he thinks he’s done something again, but his impression falls flatter than flat. An awkward silence fills the studio. He coughs. “Anyway. Do you have pictures?”

“Yeah. I also have a list of candidates ranked by how cool their names are. Number five, Casserole.”

“That’s cute.”

“Mhm,” you agree, “but Casserole is a kitten, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of responsibility.”

“They do say you should adopt kittens in pairs.”

“And that’s how they get you. You want one kitten and they talk you into two, and before you know it you’ve got, like, twelve cats. Number four, Party Girl.”

“Sick name.”

“Number three, Toddler.”

“Toddler?”

“Number two, Flat.”

“Just Flat? Understandable.”

“And, finally, number one: Human Torch.”

“Yoooo.” Namjoon laughs. “You have to adopt Human Torch. Let me see.” You pull up a picture on your phone and hand it over. “Okay, for our listeners—Human Torch is a young, male Domestic Short Hair. He has stripes. I don’t know what that’s called.”

“Tabby,” Jungkook chimes in.

“Jungkook says he’s a tabby. He’s cute. Adopt him.”

You return your phone to your pocket. “Maybe. I still think I want an older cat, but I’ll consider it. What about you, though? Any new dating horror stories to share?”

Ah, the dating horror stories. Your most dedicated shippers are convinced they’re fake, that Namjoon just makes them up on the spot to keep them off your trail. If only. Not in the if only they were fake and Namjoon and I were actually dating kind of way, but the holy shit one of my closest friends is a fucking disaster and it’s a little embarrassing kind of way.

“Not really,” he answers. “I’ve got a date this Friday, though. Trying to decide if dinner and a movie is too boring.”

“It’s a classic for a reason. What are you gonna see, My Big Fat Greek Wedding 3?”

“Three?” Namjoon emphasizes, truly sounding scandalized. “Since when are there three? I haven’t even seen one or two.”

“Okay, first of all, the original is a classic and it’s a crime you haven’t seen it.”

“And second of all?”

“There is no second of all. Repeat point one.”

He snorts. “I’m not gonna see that, anyway. Maybe the re-release of Howl’s Moving Castle.”

“Subbed or dubbed, though?”

“Are you trying to get me canceled?”

“Absolutely.”

“I like both,” he chickens out. “Now, let’s stop wasting time and get to the point of the show.”

“Talking about cats is a waste of time?”

“I—no, we’ve just got a lot on the agenda today.”

“Like what?”

“Well, there’s lots to talk about on the celebrity front—”

Namjoon loves this part. As esteemed and educated as he is, not even he is immune to good old celebrity gossip. (Inside him there are two wolves.) Lives for it. Texts you about it at all hours of the night. Sends you links to Reddit threads with hundreds of comments. Has more opinions on Celebrity Big Brother than he does on Ludwig Wittgenstein, sometimes, and when that’s the case you know you’re in for a long evening. You’ve never even seen an episode of Celebrity Big Brother.

But Namjoon loves it, so you’ve become fond of it by association. Reminds you a bit of Yoongi and his love for sports and sports anime.

“—one should we start with?”

“Whatever you want,” you answer, because you haven’t been paying a lick of attention and you aren’t sure it matters anyway. Namjoon can talk to a wall on a good day, but he’s an entirely different beast once mundane, innocuous celeb gossip gets involved.

And even though you hadn’t been paying attention, it seems like this was the right thing to say, because Namjoon smiles so wide his dimples crater his face. “Cool. Let’s start with Taryn Manning. Did you see that bizarre—”

“Who?”

“What?”

“Who is Taryn Manning?”

Namjoon looks a little dumbstruck. Even Jungkook’s arching an eyebrow at you. “Are you serious? She was in Orange is the New Black and Crossroads.”

“The Britney Spears movie?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Weird, okay. Continue.”

Your co-host shoots you a very pointed look. “I will, thanks. Anyway, she posted a video on social media talking about this affair she had with a married man. Like, she pulled over on the side of the road to record this. Said she can’t stand the man’s wife because she called her a quote-unquote lunatic.”

“I—huh, thought we weren’t supposed to say that anymore. Alright.”

“But wait, it gets even more bizarre. Listen to this quote—and this is direct. This is a direct quote from the video, I can’t stop thinking about it: ‘Don’t you ever threaten me when your husband came to me to get his butthole licked.’ Can you—”

“What? Namjoon, what in the fuck—”

“It’s crazy, right? She was gonna buy this guy a boat.”

“Namjoon, this is a family show, you can’t just talk about ass-eating unprompted.”

“No it’s not.”

“Well, you still shouldn’t talk about ass-eating unprompted. It’s unbecoming.”

“You’re unbecoming,” Namjoon fires back, because he can’t help it. The words are out of his mouth before he can think. “Sorry, that was out of line.”

You sigh. Know whatever look Jungkook is catching on his camera right now is exasperated and pointed, the corners of your mouth probably tugged up just a hint. “Unbecoming, like I said.” Namjoon scoffs. “Anyway, so this actress was gonna buy this married guy a boat and was eating his ass?”

“Yeah. Apparently it was her friend’s husband? They all went to a Taylor Swift concert together.”

“Jesus, this keeps getting worse. Big year for Hollywood cheaters.”

“It is, right? Cheaters and divorces. Something in the water, I guess.”

“I saw the astrology girlies saying a bunch of planets are in retrograde, so—”

“Can you explain that to me? Like, what does it mean for a planet to be in retrograde? Why is it causing divorces?��

“I don’t know, I’m not an astrology girlie. That’s why I said the astrology girlies. What are your big three, though?”

“What’s that?”

“Your sun, moon, and rising signs.”

“How do I find that out?”

“Ugh,” you intone, “don’t worry about it, I’ll do it myself. What time were you born?”

Namjoon rattles off a time.

You grab your laptop. Pull up the page, type in Namjoon’s date of birth and birthplace, and wait. Then you’re staring at a circle with a bunch of lines in it that also don’t make a lick of sense to you. You roll your lips to keep from laughing and school your voice into something deadly serious. “Bad news: it says you’re a virgin.”

“Virgo,” Namjoon corrects, not taking the bait. “I already knew that.”

You scroll a little further down the page. “Your moon is in Sagittarius. Oh god, listen to this, they’ve got you pegged: ‘The greatest need is to always search for something. In order to feel safe you need a philosophy or belief’—”

“Haaa, that’s not—”

“—’You need to have a goal or mission that gives your life meaning. Your faith must be voluntary and it is a paradox that fighting against dogmas may lead you to other dogmas.’ Yeah, that’s you.”

“That could apply to anyone,” he argues. “There are seven-billion people on this planet; I’d imagine a sizable amount of them would say that also describes them.”

“Hm, sounds like your faith in astrology is not yet voluntary. Did you know you’re a Scorpio rising?”

“No. I’m sure you’re gonna tell me all about it, though.”

You smile. “Correct. ‘People with Scorpio on the Ascendant need to fight against dark and destructive power in their life.’ Is that true?”

“Yeah, you’re the dark and destructive power. You keep sidetracking me and we need to get to the point of the podcast.” He grabs the stack of papers Jungkook had given him. Looks more highlighter than paper, if you’re being honest. “I guess Jungkook thought we needed a lighthearted kind of day.”

“That was nice of him, considering what he gave us last week. I guess we’re allowed to have faith in humanity today.”

To your left, Jungkook scoffs.

“Alright,” Namjoon starts, putting on his Very Serious Podcast Guy voice, “first up we’ve got a question from one of our listeners in Canada. It says, ‘Hi, Piper and Namjoon. I recently agreed to go on a blind date with a friend of a friend. She said he was a bit old-fashioned but really talked him up so I thought I was in good hands—and then he showed up to get me in a ‘67 GTO and exclusively referred to me as doll. He didn’t use my name once. I’m torn, because he was really nice and I had a good time otherwise, but this is weird, right? Should I see him agai—’”

“No,” you interject.

“Can I finish?”

“You don’t have to. This guy sounds greasy.”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “And why is that?”

“Ignoring the fact that this guy has arguably one of the lamest classic cars around, he didn’t use their name once? Not once, in all the time they spent together? That’s really disrespectful.”

“Some people are just pet name people,” Namjoon argues.

“With absolute strangers, though? It’s really giving the impression that he didn’t even know it, not to mention some people are uncomfortable with pet names. The whole shtick is super lame.”

“I agree it sounds a bit misguided, but—”

Ignoring Namjoon, you say, “Sorry you had to go on a date with the ghost of less-cool James Dean. Into the garbage he goes.”

And, just like he’s done a million times before, Namjoon rolls his eyes and says, “If you really like this guy and want to see him again, a bit of communication will go a long way. Tell him the pet name made you uncomfortable—if it did—and offer to pick him up for the next date. I don’t think he’s completely destined for the garbage, yet.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t have a license. You probably think a 1967 Pontiac GTO is the pinnacle of romance. That’s probably like picking someone up on a Specialized Aethos to you, eh?”

“That’s a fifteen-thousand dollar bike, I’ll have you know.”

You groan. “Oh my god.”

Ep: #183 - Namjoon is a Virgin

I think Namjoon had the right idea on this one. Sure, the car can be considered lame, but I think a lot of men are deeply insecure and therefore overcompensate when it comes to dating. Women are hard to impress when they have unlimited options. You have to stand out, so I’m glad he advocated for him. Piper can come off like such a misandrist sometimes. (-649) ↳ just shut up bro namjoon would fuckin hate u (+204) ↳ Imagine caring about something like this when they’re getting a cat together 🙄 (+19)

You think about the cat thing for nearly a week.

Adopting a cat is certainly not the worst idea you’ve ever had, and truth be told it’s been a little lonely, living by yourself. No more Yoongi in your space; no more Holly. So, having a new little friend around might do you some good.

It’s just—

It’s a big commitment, and there’s also the dog sitting-shaped elephant in the room. Ending things on good terms means you’re still Yoongi’s second-choice sitter whenever he has to go out of town, and while you love Holly dearly (the two of you had adopted him together, after all), he’s a lot like his father in a lot of ways.

Should I get a cat, you type out, and it’s only been in Yoongi’s inbox a few seconds before the most unflattering picture you’ve ever taken of him is flashing across your screen.

“Are you dying?” you ask, because Yoongi doesn’t call you for much else.

And you already know what his response is going to be. “We’re all dying.”

“Lighten up, Yoongi. One might say being so existentially nihilistic before noon causes wrinkles.”

There’s a split-second pause. “It’s nine p.m.”

“Sure, but it’s before tomorrow’s noon, so it still counts.”

“Whatever. Listen, before you adopt that cat, I need a favor.”

“You going out of town again?”

“Yeah. Shouldn’t be long, though. A week at the most, five days if I’m lucky.”

“That’s fine, bring him over whenever. Yijeong’s busy?”

This pause is far, far longer. “No,” comes Yoongi’s eventual response, but it’s slow. Unsure. A two-letter word has never taken so long to say in the history of ever. “He’s, uh. Coming with me?”

Oh, you think. This is where your ex awkwardly and hesitantly breaks the news of his new relationship. You’ve known this day was coming, and this is what you get for staying friends with him. “This is a fanfiction plot,” you accuse. “Hot, mysterious man moves into a gaudy apartment complex after ending a long-term relationship and meets his equally-hot and mysterious neighbor and they fall in love.”

“I—that’s not—my apartment is not gaudy.”

“Yes it is. There’s a giant gold bust of a weird bird in the lobby.”

“Weird bird?” he parrots. “It’s a swan.”

“I see you’re not denying the in-love-with-your-neighbor accusations.”

“Am I on trial?” Yoongi retorts, and it’s such a Yoongi thing to say when what he means is, is this okay? He means, are we able to talk about this without it being weird? He means, I won’t ever say as much out loud, but your acceptance means a lot to me, and I’d like for you to give me this.

So you lower your voice and soften the edges because it’s not really something to joke about, and you say, “No, of course you’re not on trial,” and Yoongi knows what you mean. “And if you were, you'd get locked up for fifty years. You can’t lie for shit.”

There’s a beat of silence before he clears his throat, mutters a thanks that is so quiet you almost don’t catch it. “Send me pictures of the cats.”

Later on, once you’re freshly-showered and tucked into bed with a candle and a book (Eloge de l’amour by Alain Badiou at Namjoon’s insistence and request), your phone buzzes with a text from Yoongi—

Yoongi: toddler is a fucking hilarious name for a cat but so is flat Yoongi: it’s a tie for me You: Okay well pick one 🙄 Yoongi: yijeong says get both You: Both???? Is he paying my vet bills? Yoongi: kinda out of line to proposition him for money. flat is also good with dogs, js You: If he’s now being raised by you two, my perfect, well-behaved son is probably long gone. Does he even count as a dog anymore? Yoongi: me and yijeong both say fuck off Yoongi: holly too. he says he doesn’t miss you anymore and he’s not coming over now Yoongi has added Yijeong to the group Yoongi has changed the group name to #ThirdWheelChat Yijeong: Please don’t drag me into this. Also I did not say “fuck off” You have changed the group name to People Who Have Seen Yoongi Naked Yoongi: fuck you

You should’ve known something was going on with Jungkook, because it’d started like this:

(When you and Namjoon started the podcast three years ago, it was in the living room of his apartment.

Surrounded by books and plants. He loved to record in the afternoons back then—Namjoon loved to say it was because of his grad school schedule, but you’ve always suspected he just wanted to preen in the golden hour light, much like he’s doing now.

“Is this really necessary?” Jungkook whines from his spot on the couch. He’s already swindled Namjoon out of two bags of microwavable popcorn and three cans of sparkling water. “It’s a Saturday afternoon; I could be doing something so much more fun than this.”

Namjoon scoffs. “Are you saying this isn’t fun?”

“Yeah. It sucks, actually. This could’ve been an email.”

And because Namjoon is accomplished, mature, and absolutely incapable of not taking Jungkook’s bait, the space between his brows creases as he sends a murderous glare Jungkook’s way. “Stop eating my food, then. And drinking my drinks. And lounging on my couch like that—”

“I’m not lounging,” Jungkook argues.

“You’re manspreading all over the leather!”

“This is how I sit!”

“Well, knock it off! My couch is only for fun and people who think I’m fun!”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “So you fuck on it?”

“What?”

“What other fun things could you possibly do on a couch?”

Namjoon blinks. “Watch… watch a movie?”

Jungkook groans, throws himself backwards against the pillows as if he’s suffering a Victorian ailment. “Jesus. No wonder you can’t score a second date.”

“Okay, that was a little uncalled for. There are a ton of reasons a person might not want a second date, and no one is obligated to go out with me—”

“Uh-huh. Anyway—”

You clear your throat. Try to hide your own can of seltzer you’d taken from Namjoon’s fridge in the midst of his and Jungkook’s bickering. “Not trying to be rude, but I have an appointment at the shelter at three. If, y’know. You wouldn’t mind speeding this up a little.”

“Oh! Yeah, of course—”

“Oh, so you’ll speed this up for her but not—”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “She,” he begins, jerking his thumb in your direction, “isn’t needlessly complaining and actually has someplace to be.”)

It was just a quick little rendezvous in Namjoon’s living room to come up with a rough draft for the following month’s episodes. He couldn’t do it over text because he’d fallen down the steps at his office and landed on his ass on the corner of a step and his phone had been in his back pocket. Cracked clean in half. And he couldn’t do it over email because he—rightfully—knew Jungkook would ignore them because he has his inbox set up to send all of Namjoon’s personal emails to the trash.

But Jungkook holds onto things like that. Grudges. Loves to let Namjoon think bygones are bygones and pop up a few days later with some evil scheme. Hence:

“What is this?”

Jungkook smirks. Rocks back on his heels. “It’s fanfiction.”

“I can see that, but… why?”

This is where Jungkook shines: the ominous, cheshire cat grin; the aw, shucks demeanor that gaslights Namjoon into thinking Jungkook couldn’t possibly be fucking with him. “Well, you were having trouble coming up with ideas for episodes, and there’s an email in there from someone whose partner reads really expli—”

“Jungkook, this is fanfiction about me.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you. Of all the weird shit you’ve seen on the internet (and there’s been a lot), fanfiction of people you know—your friends—was something you’d managed to escape. Probably by virtue of not knowing anyone famous enough to warrant fanfiction being written about them.

But you should’ve known. You really, really should’ve known.

“Oh my god?”

You’re not sure who says it. Could be you or Namjoon, but the sentiment is the same. He mouths a what the fuck at you that’s met with a shrug. You’re in uncharted territory now, too. “Where did you even find this?” you ask, taking the stack of papers from Namjoon. “And why did you print it out?”

“Because I’m going to track down whoever wrote it and get them to autograph it. Then I’m going to buy a nice frame and hang it on the wall behind him, so we never forget this historical moment in Place Him Gently in the Garbage lore.”

“It’s a podcast,” Namjoon deadpans, “how can it have lore? And how much lore can there possibly be?”

“It’s the internet,” you concede. “The lore possibilities are endless. Don’t tempt them.”

Jungkook nods sagely, well-versed in the degeneracy of the internet. “Yeah, that’s how you end up with shit like 4chan.”

“4chan? There’s Space Jam porn on there.”

As the youngest, all Jungkook can do is roll his eyes. “Sometimes explaining this shit to you feels like trying to teach old people how to rotate PDFs—”

Namjoon scoffs. “I’m not that bad. I know how to rotate a PDF.”

Wow, Jungkook mouths. “Anyway, back to the fanfiction—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Namjoon interjects. He looks at you. “It’s weird, right? Like, it’s weird that people have written this about us?”

About us.

Your scope of the world narrows to the size of a pinhead. It’d just been about Namjoon before. This is fanfiction about me, he’d said, and you hadn’t been included in that. Now it’s written about us and you’re included.

“I—what?”

“It’s about us,” Namjoon repeats.

Jungkook rolls his lips. “It’s about the two of you fucking, to be specific.”

“Can you not—”

“Fucking a lot,” Jungkook continues. “So much fucking.”

Namjoon looks at you, and it’s all you can do to keep from laughing. The look on his face is pure bewilderment, both that Jungkook has cooked up this idea and is hell-bent on executing it and that he remains employed. And maybe it’s a little bit of nerves, too, because neither of you are ignorant of the risks. Reading fanfiction about yourselves—about the two of you as a couple, specifically, or at least two people who have sex—is weird. Not something you can unread.

And maybe it’s because you’re so determined to not make it weird that you send Namjoon a cheeky, exaggerated wink, shrug your shoulders, and say, “I’ll need a couple drinks, but I’m down.”

Jungkook throws his head back and cackles wildly, and that look of bewilderment on Namjoon’s face morphs into something else. Trepidation, maybe; definitely disbelief, because sometimes he lets himself get swept away in Jungkook’s schemes, but it’s rare that you follow suit.

As Jungkook continues to laugh, you wonder if you should’ve said no.

Namjoon has two stipulations: the two of you have to film the episode completely alone, and he, too, needs to be a little drunk.

The latter? Piece of cake, considering Namjoon has become some sort of whiskey aficionado in recent years. His drinking is streamlined and to the point—he knows exactly how much and what to drink to get him where he wants to be. You can’t say he isn’t efficient.

The former, though? Borderline impossible. From the second Namjoon states his terms, Jungkook is having none of it. Argues that he’s the one who found the story and the one who cleared it with the author, so he deserves to witness the fruits of his labor.

“No,” Namjoon repeats for the nth time, “no way. I’ll barely be able to do this with just her, let alone both of you.”

And that—that doesn’t bother you, right? You force a laugh, because why would it bother you?

There are few secrets between you and Namjoon, except your respective sex lives have been staunchly off-limits. Namjoon could be a virgin for all you know, and as you study him—the way he keeps bobbing his leg, the slight shake in his hands—you wonder if that’s the reason he’s being so weird about this.

It’s just a story.

Fiction.

Most people don’t have to worry about someone writing stories about them fucking their friends. If they do, you reckon even less actually read them. So, sure, it’s a little strange, but people from all over the world send in stranger stuff all the time, don’t they? It’s literally the reason you’re in this predicament.

Eventually Jungkook agrees. His whining has gotten him nowhere, so he just throws up his hands. Posts a cryptic little “u guys won’t believe what the next patreon ep is lmao” that sends the internet into a frenzy. Doubles your Patreon numbers almost immediately, and both you and Namjoon do a good job of pretending the pressure isn’t overwhelming.

Jesus. You have to read explicit fanfiction about yourselves. On camera.

Namjoon gets caught up with work and isn’t available until the weekend, so you’re forced to sit with the nerves for a few days. Not too bad at first, but you’re nearly coming out of your skin by Thursday with the need to know. You’re well-versed in the world of fanfiction, but this is fanfiction about you: your name, your likeness, maybe even your personality.

What will they know of Namjoon, though?

Will they get it right, the way he looks with his jaw clenched? How impossibly deep his voice can go, both when it’s raspy with sleep and when he’s fully at ease? Will the Namjoon in the story be closer to the Namjoon you know, or the version of himself he presents to the public?

And you’ve known him a long time—long enough that there are few secrets between you, but you don’t know the most intimate parts. All the parts the internet loves to speculate on. All the little gaps that, apparently, need to be filled in by fanfiction.

Will they know what Namjoon looks like when he gets off?

No, you scold yourself, jerking awkwardly like you’ve been burned, and neither will you.

Because you are not going to think about this. Your thoughts are not going to go there. Namjoon is your friend, and you’ve listened to him scold an endless amount of men on the podcast for exactly this behavior. Sexualizing their friends. You’re not going to do it, too.

Maybe that’s why you’re kind of seeing double when it comes time to record. Namjoon needed an extra shot and offered you one as well. You’d necked it without a second thought and now you’re here, trying to ignore the slight tilt of the room as Namjoon adjusts the camera.

“How’s the shot look?” he asks, gesturing vaguely behind him at his laptop screen because Jungkook had refused to lend you his fancy cameras if he wasn’t allowed to be involved.

It’s a completely normal question.

It’s a question you’ve asked and answered a million times.

Except—there’s something horribly distracting about Namjoon in this moment. The outline of his back muscles through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. The way the sleeves are tight around his biceps. He’s always been a gym rat, always carries around a protein shake that smells and looks completely foul, but you can’t remember it ever being this obvious.

And you take too long to answer, because Namjoon straightens up just enough to send you a concerned look. Which does not help. You are not imagining what else might cause his brows to pinch like that, what might have his lips parting, have sweat dotting his hairline.

You swallow. Hard.

“Looks fine,” you manage to say. He’s still staring. Are you on fire? You feel like you’re on fire, which would make sense. Would explain Namjoon’s sweating and concerned stare and the fact that he cannot stop staring at you. “Maybe a tiny bit to the right if we’re being picky,” you tack on, hoping it’ll break whatever spell the two of you are ensnared in.

It works. “To the—the right, yeah, makes sense,” he rambles.

He moves it an inch to the left.

—

Things are tense, to say the least.

Recording hasn’t been this awkward since your first episode, or maybe ever. You’re sat across from one another like you always are, and usually Namjoon would be making quip after quip by now, talking endlessly until Jungkook shushed him long enough to get the intro filmed. Now, there’s just silence.

“Should we…?” Namjoon startles. Bangs his knee on the underside of the table and drops a string of curses. “Sorry, are you—”

“I’m fine,” he says, cutting you off. He gestures vaguely toward the camera. “I’ll just… yeah.”

Showtime.

You wipe your hands on your jeans, unsure of when they got so damp. Unsure of when you’d grown so nervous, too, because you’d been fine an hour ago. Had strolled in with two cups of tea and a little too much confidence, giddy at what you were about to do.

Maybe the nerves had shown up alongside the alcohol. This sounds reasonable, and you do not, under any circumstance or for any reason, think about Namjoon’s back. Or his biceps.

Namjoon makes it through the intro, dimples deep and wide as he smiles, and you also don’t think about the way his voice cracks and gets a little breathy when he introduces you. It’s only because he’d been drinking, and the flush on his cheeks attests to that. The same flush that creeps down his neck, still a little sweaty; disappears beneath the hemline of his shirt.

“—Jungkook had. Right, Piper?”

Now it’s your turn to startle, and there’s not much you can do to hide the obvious except ask Namjoon to redo the shot. Because it’s bad enough the internet already overanalyzes every move you make, every word choice, every instance you’ve stared at Namjoon a second longer than they thought you would—this is a blatant display of… affectedness.

“Sorry,” you say, “I wasn't paying attention. Can we redo it?”

You’re expecting a playful scolding. A ha ha, get it together, because that’s what you usually get. But there’s nothing aside from Namjoon studying you and nodding. Asking if you’re okay. Saying, “Is this—this is weird, right? Is it too weird? Maybe we shouldn’t—”

An out. Namjoon is giving you an out, and you should take it, you know you should take it, so there’s absolutely no reason at all you shake your head and say, “No, no, it’s fine! I think I’m just a little, uh. Drunk?”

“Are you sure? We can—”

“It’s fine, Joon,” you insist. “Besides, it’ll be good content, right?”

“Good content,” he parrots. “Yeah, for sure.” He fidgets in his seat, runs his hands down the span of his thighs. Very, very thick thighs. “I’ll grab us some water.”

You faceplant onto the table as soon as he’s out of the room. When did his thighs get so thick?

But the water helps. Cures whatever strange, insatiable thirst has come over you, because you feel much more human after a few glasses. Less drunk, too, which makes sense. Yoongi could barely escape your drunken, horny wrath when the two of you were together, so you chalk it up to a Pavlovian response.

Namjoon does the intro again. Introduces you strong and steady, not a hint of nerves, and explains, with a fresh blush taking over his upper body, what the episode’s going to be about. “Someone wrote fanfiction about us,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck. “It’s, uh, pretty explicit. Jungkook thought it’d be funny if we read it.”

You snort. “He might get fired, depending on how this goes.”

“He should get fired regardless,” Namjoon deadpans. “Anyway, we have permission from the author to read this so don’t come after us, and, as always, we’ll put all the credits in the video description.”

“Special shoutout to Jungkook, though, who was not allowed to be here with us for this momentous occasion.”

Namjoon laughs. “I’m sure he’s having plenty of fun at home.” You both pause. “That’s not—I’m not implying anything with that! I just meant—you know, like. He’s hanging out and enjoying his day off.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Moving on. I have two copies of this. Do you want your own?”

You grin, wicked and wide. “Nah, just read it to me.”

“Making me do all the work,” he huffs. “Typical.”

“There’s a stack of papers in front of you that might say otherwise.”

It’s clear you catch him off-guard. He cocks an eyebrow, opens and shuts his mouth a few times like a goldfish. An obvious question sits on the tip of his tongue: You think you’d be in charge? Instead he coughs, jerks his head to the side, and says, “I guess we’ll see.”

It sounds like a challenge.

Thirty seconds is all you get before Namjoon’s shuffling his stack of papers and clearing his throat. Asking if you’re ready and jumping right into it once you say you are. Reads the first few lines like they’re some old lecture notes, and they’re conservative and safe-for-work enough that you start to relax.

And then Namjoon reads, “A louder one wonders if Namjoon is a pet name person—if he’d call her ‘honey,’ or ‘gummy bear,’ ‘babe,’ or ‘baby,’” and you choke.

“Gummy bear?”

Namjoon laughs along with you—the weird one that almost sounds like a dog panting. “You want me to call you gummy bear?”

“I want you to call me a Lyft,” you snark. “I’m leaving.”

He continues:

And that’s how it starts, wandering thoughts, wandering fingers—the first time Piper comes to the thought of Namjoon calling her baby, pushing inside her, showing her that he definitely doesn’t beg, but she does… Well, she’s a little ashamed. She’s apparently got a reputation to maintain, anyway, not to mention a friendship.

His eyes leave the paper and lock onto you. “Or maybe you’d prefer baby?”

“Fuck off.”

Weeks after that first time, it’s become a habit, thinking about Namjoon as something more than a friend. It’s confusing and a little mortifying and it’s starting to affect her in ways she hadn’t expected. When they record, she feels fidgety—she’s jumpy when he gets close, has all the stupid obvious tells of an unwanted crush: her breath hitches when he whispers (why the fuck is he whispering in her ear, anyway? Doesn’t he know what that does to a person?) inside jokes to her so Jungkook can’t hear, her heart rate spikes when their fingers accidentally brush, she feels itchy and hot and a little embarrassed whenever he holds eye contact with her. It’s terrible, and it’s only made worse by the way he’s doing all of those things more than usual. Or, at least she thinks he is, thinks she’s not imagining the way his eyes linger on her more than she can remember happening before or the way she’s caught him staring at her lips when she chews on the end of her pencil mindlessly.

You’ve completely forgotten how to breathe.

Namjoon’s staring again. You need to salvage this. He’s only on paragraph three and you’re already squirming in your chair and imagining things that are not appropriate. So you roll your lips, return his teasing. “Well? Do you stare at my lips?”

It works. “No,” he scowls.

“You sure?” you joke, morphing your face into something half-pout, half-duck face.

“We’re never gonna finish this if you keep making comments.”

“You started it,” you point out. “Go on, then.”

There’s some dialogue. Some prose that hits way too close to home, has you wondering who on earth wrote this and how they plucked every single thought from deep within your psyche. A pang of fear that maybe you haven’t been as subtle as you’d thought all these years. A moment to confirm to yourself that, no, you haven’t been harboring a secret, deeply-buried crush on Namjoon.

Then he reads—

And then he kisses her. It’s greedy and hot, his lips like a branding iron. She moans a little against her better judgment when he licks at the seam of her mouth, and in return, she can feel Namjoon’s lips curve into a smile against her own. It’s better than she’d been imagining it, really. He’s a good kisser—firm at the right times, soft when she needs it, careful but not cautious. He holds her jaw with one hand and keeps her right where he wants her beneath him (as if she’d want to move, anyway). When their lips finally part, he rests his forehead on hers. It’s intimate in a way she hadn’t expected, and he looks at her as if she’s the answer to every question. Finally, he whispers, “What’re we doing, Piper?” His lips are still wet and pink and a little swollen from kissing, and she barely hears the question—she’s too busy thinking about kissing him again, about pulling his plump bottom lip between her teeth, teasing and… “Kissing,” she says finally. “What do you want?” he asks, sinking to his knees in front of her. And if that alone isn’t an answer to his question… “Whatever you’re willing to give,” she replies. It feels like she’s wanted this forever, this and so much more. Once she got the idea in her head, it’s hard to know if she ever felt differently, ever truly thought they could just be friends. Or, if in the back of her mind, in the dark corners that she never lets see daylight, she always knew she wanted Namjoon. Always knew she loved him.

—and everything goes right out the fucking window.

Namjoon sits with those words for a moment. Scans the paper in his hands and frowns a little when he confirms what you already know. “The rest is, uh. Porn.”

“That is why we’re here.”

“Last chance to back out.”

“I’m not scared,” you lie. “Are you? You’re the one who keeps stalling.”

He huffs. “You’re a pain in my ass,” he retorts, and then nothing is all that funny anymore.

Because Namjoon was right: the rest is straight-up porn. He’s barely able to read the part where he goes down on you with a straight face, turning a deep shade of crimson. Stutters through the part where you pull his hair, and that is not something you needed to know about your friend. You think he loses his grasp of language entirely when he reads, “When he slides a long finger into her and brushes past her most sensitive spot, she arches into him and lets his name fall from her lips in a soft cry. Piper, notorious skeptic, is a babbling, trembling mess as she gets closer to her orgasm,” because all the words are garbled together, producing nothing but gibberish. You think he’s ready to keel over and die when he reads, “Namjoon pulls away briefly, lips slick with her juices, and licks over his top one, pausing to tell her how good she tastes before he dives back in.”

“That was nice of them to include. I appreciate their attention to detail in regards to my personal hygiene.”

“This is so embarrassing,” he whines.

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Gimme. I’ll finish it.” He hands over the papers immediately.

Except you regret it immediately. The words you’re staring at are not words you ever thought you’d read or recite in your entire life. Not even for a million dollars. “Oh,” you say instead.

“See? Not as easy as it looks.”

“This is really embarrassing,” you confirm. “I might need another shot.”

“Y-yeah. Alcohol sounds good.”

Namjoon staggers forward obligingly, looks completely fucked out and pliant, willing to do whatever she asks. She remembers the sounds he made when she pulled his hair, wonders if he likes being bossed around, if he wants her to tell him what to do, to be a little mean to him. Maybe it’s different from her dreams, maybe he will beg her. She wants him so badly, she’d do anything for him. So, she pulls his briefs down to expose his absurdly large member, already mostly hard, and slaps it. Gently at first to see how he’ll react, and when he shudders and jerks his hips, she does it again, a little harder. “Look at you,” she whispers, “such a needy boy.” He whimpers at that, eyes pleading. “Please, Piper…” he whines. “Please what?” “Please let me fuck you,” he begs. She wants to, wants him so much, wants to feel him stretch her open, and from the looks of his cock, thick and long and drooling with precum, he could. “Should I?” she asks. She musters all her confidence to keep the condescending tone up. It feels wrong given how desperate she is to get him inside her, but it also seems to be getting him worked up and equally as desperate. “Do you even know what to do with that big, stupid cock?” Namjoon’s cock twitches, and he begs, “I—I’ll fuck you so good, Piper…. I know how, I promise. Just… please?”

“Oh my god,” the two of you say in unison.

You so badly want to ask if this is biographical. How Namjoon feels about a little degradation; what he’d do if someone actually called his cock stupid. Ifsomeone has called his cock stupid. You dare a glance at him and conclude that someone’s had to. Namjoon just has that kind of energy.

But you can’t ask because it’d be weird, so you keep reading.

“How do you want me?” she asks softly when their lips part. There’s a wild look in his eyes, like he’s processing all the possible options out of everything he’s considered. And then it occurs to her. “Have you imagined this before? Thought about how you’d fuck me?” she teases him as she stands, stepping into him. Piper pushes one hand through his hair, brushing it back off of his forehead and wraps her other around his dick, squeezing a little for emphasis on her words. “Yes,” he groans as she strokes him, thumbing at the head of his cock. “Tell me what you want, then. Want me on all fours for you? Want me to show you how it’s done, to let you lay back and ride you so you don’t have to put in any work?” Namjoon’s breathing is getting heavy, pupils blown wider with each suggestion.

“I told you!” you shriek, laughing in between the words. “I told you I’d…” And then your gloating tapers off, because what happens next has your brain malfunctioning.

“All of that,” he whines as she lets go of his hair and brings her hand down to run a fingertip over his perineum. “Want all of that. Want to bend you over the table and fuck you right here. Hear your sounds in the microphone.” Even in her dirtiest thoughts about him, she hadn’t considered the microphone, hadn’t considered recording it. When she thinks about it though, it makes sense. Namjoon is exactly the kind of person that would get off to someone’s voice. So, she does. She makes a show of turning around and slowly bending over the table, sliding her upper body across it carefully until she can reach her microphone and turn it on. When she says into it, “What’re you waiting for?” she sees over her shoulder the way that Namjoon shivers.

This is… not good. You’re never going to be able to look at a microphone the same way, which is extremely not good for a person who supplements their income with a very popular podcast that requires them to speak into a microphone for extended periods of time.

This is very, very bad.

Namjoon must be thinking the same, because he lets out a strangled a-haaa that’s less of a laugh and more a plea to God, the gods, the entire gamut of higher powers that might be able to save him. No one’s going to, you think, staring down at the paper again. This godless piece of fanfiction will be preserved on the internet forever, will be seared into your mind forever, and no amount of praying is going to erase it.

“I should, uh. Just read the rest, yeah? Get it over with?”

“Mhm. Yep. Yes, please.”

Don’t say please, you almost say. You can’t take it; not after what you’ve just read.

So you put on a show. Steel your expression and your nerves and take it seriously. Use voices and sound effects and desperately try to stave off the awkwardness you know is inevitable because a smut fic is probably only going to end one way, and that’s with you acting out Namjoon having an orgasm.

Maybe you’ll have another one, too, if the author is nice.

It’s sweet, she thinks, the way he’s easy for her, takes his time with her. Strokes his fingertips along her sides and kisses the back of her neck reverently. As much as she loves it, part of her hopes he’s not always like this—hopes he’ll give as good as he takes, hopes he’ll put her in her place. She can feel his cock hard against the cleft of her ass, not even inside her yet, and still, she thinks about next time and the time after that. “Still okay?” He breathes into her ear as his tip rubs against her cunt. “Yeah—want you, Joon.” “Never thought I’d hear you say those words.” “I never thought you’d record them,” she teases, eyes glancing up to the flashing light showing the mic picking up all of this as he starts his slow slide into her. Piper falls even further forward when he bottoms out, letting her forehead rest on the table. He’s whispering filth in her ear, about how he has something to prove, how she’ll never want anyone after this, how no one can fuck her the way he does. She hates that he’s right. Each stroke brings a new sensation: sparklers, butterflies, nerve endings on fire as he fucks into her and licks and sucks at her neck, her shoulders, her ear. Piper can’t even think, and this is what people mean when they talk about being fucked stupid, she decides. It’s perfect. Every time she thinks she’s getting close again, he changes something: fucks her a little shallower, moves his hips just a little, slows down, speeds up… It’s driving her crazy. “Come on,” she whines. “I’m so close…” At least she can tell he is, too. No longer able to sustain the dirty talk, he’s breathing heavily, letting out broken moans and sighs of her name. He’s moving rhythmically now, thrusts consistently faster. “Oh, fuck, Piper,” he groans, “Gonna cum.” One of his hands finds her clit and he rubs careful circles over her, bringing her to her peak along with him, no more teasing. When she comes, it’s with a loud moan into the studio mic, and that seems to be what tips Namjoon over the edge, too. His hips stutter into hers as he comes, her cunt clenching around him for what feels like forever.

You deserve an award, you think. An Oscar. You didn’t even groan when you had to read the word “cunt,” and that’s a feat in and of itself.

“Is it over?” Namjoon asks, words muffled by the hands covering his face.

“Not quite,” you answer. “There’s some aftercare, and at the end you ask if I’ll piss on you.”

Namjoon gags. “I asked you what—”

“Today’s episode has been brought to you by Stamps-dot-com—”

HOLY SHIT THE NEW PATREON EPISODE???????? Posted by u/pod-shipper 4 minutes ago NO WAY. NOOOOOOO FUCKING WAY DUDE THERE’S NO FUCKING WAY THEY DID THIS AS AN ACTUAL EPISODE WHAT THE FUCK WHAT HTE FUCK WHAT EHTU FKF DFGLKDG;L (+705) I wasn’t sure if they were messing around before, and I was quite critical of the “shippers,” but now I’m pretty convinced. (+423) ↳ we’ve been telling y’all for YEARS 😤 (+197) ↳ Glad you’ve seen the light, u/RandomAcorn2058! (+5) ↳ ugh. they weren’t messing around before and they aren’t messing around now. do you guys not listen to what they say? namjoon’s been dating, and piper got out of a six-year relationship just over a year ago. if they’ve had something going on for “years” that means they’re both cheaters, and that’s a really shitty thing to assume about them. not to mention it makes the entire point of the podcast moot. (-63) Why do you guys think Jungkook “wasn’t allowed” to be there? (+314) ↳ So they could fuck lmao it’s so obvious (+329) ↳ because it’s awkward af? would you wanna read porn about yourself w all your coworkers in the room? (+2) ↳ the “it’s awkward” excuse is sooooo lame he’s the one who found it and is the one who edited the episode, he’s gonna see it regardless. (+15) ↳ Tbh I’m more curious about how he even found it to begin with? Do they have a throuple thing going on? Like, why was he looking for smut fic about his bosses? (+38)

You do not get through recording unscathed.

You are very scathed. Perhaps the most scathed a person has ever been.

Jungkook texts the group chat sporadically throughout the week, cracking jokes and making memes at your and Namjoon’s expense which is par for the course and shouldn’t have you off-kilter, but something inside you feels deeply wrong. Feels like someone’s given you devastating news; feels like it used to back in uni when you knew you’d failed an exam and were just waiting to see how badly.

It both helps and doesn’t that the internet is so invested. All the clips Jungkook keeps posting have re-doubled your Patreon numbers, and jumping up a tax bracket never hurt anyone, you included. But all of those jokes and memes largely went unanswered by both you and Namjoon, still too close to the incident to find the humor in it from the other side.

The two of you had sex.

Not literally, of course, but you figure you might as well have with the way you’re feeling. The way you’re avoiding one another. Someone wrote a story about the two of you having sex and you both read it and something about that, days later, feels really fucking unsettling.

In a bad way? You aren’t sure. It’s not like you’re mad or upset or any other synonym. You just feel… off. Itchy from the inside out, and that’s far from the norm in your and Namjoon’s friendship. In all the years you’ve known one another, you’ve never once avoided each other, including the time you’d set him up with a close friend and he showed up 45 minutes late to their date and ghosted after.

(Unsurprisingly, that friendship had not lasted.)

Maybe it’s because Yoongi had always been there as a buffer. You aren’t of the belief that men and women cannot be platonic friends, but being in a years-long committed relationship nixed a lot of awkward interactions and assumptions off the bat. Even Namjoon had known Yoongi first. Had introduced himself to you in your shared 100-level psych course with a, “Hey, you’re Min Yoongi’s girlfriend, right?” because they ran in the same underground circles and Namjoon had idolized him from afar for years.

Pretty fucked up, then, that Yoongi’s off in Los Angeles with his hot new boyfriend and you’re on your couch, Holly at your feet, pointedly ignoring your texts.

“I’m gonna get a cat,” you say to the dog, trying to redirect his attention when he starts chewing on your sock again. Holly doesn’t offer any input, of course, and he’s a lot like his father in that way. “I can’t believe you have a stepfather. You’re a proper child of divorce now, Min Holly.”

There are a pile of unread texts you continue to ignore in lieu of showing Holly pictures of adoptable cats. A few more memes from Jungkook, one from Namjoon’s new phone asking to move the recording date a few days because “something came up at work,” one from the food delivery service you admittedly use too much offering 10% off your next order, and two from Yoongi. This reminded me of you, the first one says beneath a picture of an ice cream cone on the ground, and another one of him holding a water gun that says send me a picture of my son or else.

You eventually reply back with a picture of your middle finger, Holly nothing but a blurred brown blob in the corner of the frame.

That’s how it goes for the better part of a week. Namjoon’s work issue lasts four days. He doesn’t offer an explanation and you don’t ask for one, you just wait for the all-clear text and try to quiet the nerves once you get it.

You’ve never been nervous to see Namjoon before.

The more popular the podcast became, the more money rolled in. The more money that rolled in, the more you could afford nicer things. That meant going from recording in Namjoon’s living room to a bona fide office space. Third floor, an expanse of windows and natural light, thirty-five minute commute by train.

Today, it feels more like thirty-five seconds.

You can hear Jungkook’s witch cackle from the stairwell, and your mind fills in the blanks of Namjoon’s exasperated sigh. It helps, your brain reminding you that you know these people. You know this is Jungkook’s late gym day, so he’ll be in a pair of sweats and a hoodie that drowns his frame. You know that when Namjoon has work issues and feels like an inconvenience, he always shows up with two boxes of baked goods from the bakery near his place, and you know both of them will save the best donut for you.

So you walk in and Jungkook’s in a hoodie and sweats just like you expect him to be, and there are two boxes of baked goods next to the coffee machine. Both of them say hello and wave and, for all intents and purposes, everything is normal.

Except it isn’t.

Because Namjoon looks… different.

Not in a bad way. Not in a bad way. He almost always dresses nicely, always looks polished and put-together, usually because he’s either going to or coming from campus—fitted shirts, either of the tee or dress variety, and earth-toned cardigans; tailored trousers that are sometimes corduroy; polished loafers. Sometimes, if he’s feeling extra casual, a stark white pair of tennis shoes.

Today, he wears none of those things.

No, today torture comes in the form of form-fitting jeans and a t-shirt a little oversized so he can roll the sleeves. His hair is brushed back off his face instead of parted down the middle. He’s wearing gold jewelry that glints in the sun. A pair of off-white Converse high-tops. And, much to your horror, he’s also wearing his glasses.

According to the internet, Kim Namjoon is peak husband material, which you can usually ignore, but not when he’s wearing glasses.

You avert your gaze, convinced you’ll burst into flames if you stare too long, not to mention Jungkook will notice and that’s a ribbing you’d rather die than take. So you avert your gaze and pointedly ignore Namjoon, who’s talking about his work crisis to no one in particular. Something about a co-worker going on an unexpectedly early paternity leave, and Namjoon being asked to cover some of his courses until they could find a more permanent fix.

Jungkook asks a question you don’t catch. Because paternity leave means his co-worker and his partner had a baby, presumably via old-fashioned methods, and it’s not a direct mention of sex but it’s close enough to send you into a coughing fit you have to blame on your donut. Neither of them buy it, but Namjoon is a good enough person to look genuinely concerned. Reaches out, probably to slap your back, but the thought of him touching you is just… too much.

So he barely gets out an, “Are you o—” before you choke down whatever’s left in your mouth and cut him off with a, “Yep, all good!” before you’re scurrying off to the opposite side of the room like a little rat.

It doesn’t get any better.

Both of you are so stilted and awkward during recording that Jungkook has to be the voice of reason and call it, suggest trying again tomorrow. Luckily he has enough b-side stuff he can release if need be, Namjoon’s work emergency providing a decent cover, and he sends the two of you home for the afternoon with all the exasperation and incredulity of a disappointed parent.

Thirty-five minutes back home.

Thirty-five minutes to sit in the embarrassment of not being able to do your job. Thirty-five minutes to catastrophize and wonder what you’re going to do if you can’t get it together. Namjoon will keep the podcast, of course; you’ll be replaced with someone else. Maybe someone less cynical, maybe someone more, but undoubtedly a man. After this mess, you can’t imagine Namjoon would want another female co-host.

But as embarrassed as you are, your traitorous brain keeps thinking about Namjoon.

Thirty-five minutes to think about his glasses and his rolled-up sleeves and the way the denim of his jeans contoured perfectly to his thighs. Thirty-five minutes to think about, “Please let me fuck you,” he begs. Thirty-five minutes to squeeze your thighs together and overanalyze the way he stumbled over his words today; how he could barely make eye contact. Thirty-five minutes to draft a dozen resignation texts and delete them all.

You groan, head thunking against the train window. You’ll take a cold shower as soon as you get home.

That’ll cure you.

You get home and walk Holly so long he gives up halfway through and you have to carry him back to your apartment. You take a cold shower and actually find it pleasant once the initial shock wears off, so it doesn’t work to keep all your rogue Namjoon thoughts at bay. You make a simple dinner and don’t think about Namjoon sitting you on the counter and having his way with you. You tuck yourself into bed far too early and consider going back to therapy, because clearly something very, very bad has happened to your psyche.

Needless to say, nothing cures you.

But it’s a new day, and you’re determined to get your shit together. Yesterday was a fluke, because you’re so normal and so capable of being in the same room as Kim Namjoon.

Except—you’re not.

Jungkook’s there when you arrive, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. Barely looks up at you to say hello, and barely returns it when you do. You double-check the time, because you can count on two fingers the amount of times you’ve shown up and Namjoon wasn’t already there, jotting down extensively-detailed notes, circling and highlighting and chasing down Jungkook to ask questions.

“Where’s Namjoon?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Dunno. Not here.”

You roll your eyes. “Super helpful, thanks.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes right back. “You don’t pay me enough to also be his handler.”

You bite your tongue. Arguing with Jungkook means you’ve already lost the war. Not worth it. But it still eases your worries a bit that he doesn’t know any more than you do. That Namjoon hadn’t only texted him to say why he was running late because he didn’t want to—or couldn’t—talk to you.

So you wait. And you wait and you wait and you wait. Jungkook lets you talk to people on his dating apps and tells you about his new gym routine until your eyes are glazing over. Orders food delivery for the two of you because he gets hungry after an hour and had already eaten what was left of the snacks before you arrived. Cracks a joke that isn’t really a joke about calling the police, because Namjoon still hasn’t shown up and he hasn’t said anything and none of your texts are showing as delivered.

You’re halfway to hour two when the office door bursts open and Namjoon stumbles through, soaked with sweat and stammering over apologies.

“I am so sor—I broke my phone again so my alarm never went off and then I missed my bus? And apparently they’re not running the regular bus schedule today so the next one was a half-hour wait, but then I…”

You don’t catch the rest, because Namjoon is covered in sweat and breathing heavily and a week ago you could’ve survived this. A week ago you would’ve cracked a joke and handed him a towel and told him to get to work. A week ago you would not have been paralyzed in your seat, transfixed on the sweat rolling down the side of his neck.

You are fucked beyond belief.

Jungkook elbows you in the ribs, bringing you back to reality. “...even paying attention?” You startle, face warming in embarrassment. Namjoon still isn’t looking at you. “This is so sad to watch,” Jungkook mumbles, and thankfully it’s only loud enough for you to hear. “Like some stupid shit you only see in nature documentaries.”

Well, you can’t really argue with that, now can you?

But you’re a professional above all, so you hum an acknowledgment and take your regular seat. Pointedly ignore Jungkook. Wait for Namjoon to assume his position as well, and you’re surprised to see the space in front of him empty. No notes. No script. There’s just… nothing.

“Are you okay?” you ask, gesturing to the space in front of him when he seems confused. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a stack of notes in front of you.”

“I forgot them.”

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you do that, either.”

Your tone is light and airy, not at all accusing or confrontational, but Namjoon’s jaw clenches nonetheless. He scoffs, fires a shitty little, “Were you not paying attention when I was talking about what a horrible fucking morning I’ve had?” at you that makes even Jungkook flinch. A few moments of stunned silence, and then, “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, that was rude—”

“Yeah, it was,” you agree, and all of a sudden you feel too big for your body. Feel like there are ants beneath your skin, feel like everything is wrong, and you don’t want to be here anymore. “It’s fine. Let’s just—”

Namjoon looks like he wants to argue, but he just sighs and says, “I—yeah, okay.”

This is where Namjoon would usually launch into the intro, a dimpled smile already plastered on his face that’d drop as he discussed another failed first date with that brand of self-deprecation that makes him so endearing. This is where he’d say what have you been up to, Pipe, and you’d try not to groan because how hard could it possibly be to add one more letter, another syllable, but Namjoon seems incapable of it. This is the part that, for three years, has been seamless and easy and instinctual, just two friends having a conversation.

There’s a red light on your microphones that indicates you’re recording. It’s on and it mocks you, because Namjoon is not doing the intro or telling you about a failed date. He doesn’t use that cringey nickname. He doesn’t say anything at all. His mouth opens and shuts and no words come out. What’s worse is that you know exactly why he can’t speak, because you’re thinking about it, too.

“So, uh,” you begin, and Jungkook makes a gagging sound from behind you. “Come here often?”

Namjoon ignores you. “Right, right, the intro…” He sucks in a breath. “Welcome back to another episode of Put Him in the Trash, I’m—”

“Joon—”

“Namjoon, and my co-host here is—”

“Joon, that’s not—”

“Piper. Wait, why are you looking at me like that?”

“That’s not the name of our podcast.”

“Huh?”

“You said Put Him in the Trash.” Namjoon just blinks. “It’s Place Him Gently in the Garbage.”

“Is it? Since when?”

“Since forever?”

He looks at Jungkook, who is hiding behind his hands. “Is she right?”

A beat of silence. “I can’t do this,” he half-shouts, half-whines. “Are you two going to be like this forever? Because if you are, I’m quitting. I’m so serious. I’m gonna quit. I can’t take it anymore. The two of you are insufferable.” Another beat of silence, before Jungkook stands at full height and lords over you and Namjoon. “Forget today. Just go home and try again on Monday. This is so—I’m seriously gonna quit.”

Yoongi comes on Saturday afternoon to pick up Holly.

Yijeong isn’t with him, which is almost disappointing. Now that he’s dating again, you were looking forward to seeing just how awkward it could get with the three of you in the same room, but he looks good. Refreshed. The trip clearly did a world of good for him, and you can’t even bring yourself to crack a joke at his expense.

He, however, has no such hang-ups. “You look like shit.”

“Weird way to say thank you.” You click your tongue and look down at Holly. “Do you see how your father treats me? You should bite him.”

“My son would never. But also, thank you.” He flops onto the sofa. “You do look like shit, though. You wanna talk about it?”

“Not with you, preferably.”

“Oh, gross, is it a dating thing, then?”

“I—no.” You pause. It’s not a dating thing, but you still feel like you’ve got motion sickness whenever you think about it. How would you even begin to explain this to Yoongi, anyway? Someone wrote a porn fic about me and Namjoon. You remember Namjoon, right? Namjoon, that I’ve known and have been friends with since college. Yeah, that Namjoon. Anyway, someone wrote fanfiction about us having sex, and it fucked me up so bad I can no longer be in the same room as him.

No fucking way.

“You look like you’re holding in a fart.”

“You know, I’m getting really sick of you. Did you just come here to insult me?”

He snorts, but his smirk dissipates a few seconds later, a familiar seriousness filling the void. “We’re okay, right? Was the Yijeong thing too soon?”

“No,” you answer immediately, leaning over to flick him on the forehead. “We’re fine, and if you’re happy, then I’m happy for you.” He still looks doubtful. “You want me to start singing ‘I Will Always Love You’ or something? It’s just… weird work stuff.”

“Depends. Are you singing the Dolly Parton or Whitney version? And real work or podcast work?”

“Podcast work, and obviously the Whitney version.”

Yoongi seems surprised by this, eyebrows disappearing beneath his fringe. “Like, the podcast with Namjoon?” He presses his tongue into the fat of his cheek when you nod your head. “Not gonna lie, I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Like I said, it’s weird. It wasn’t, like, an argument or anything.”

“How weird?”

“You’re so fake, Min Yoongi. You act like you’re so distinguished and above drama, but really you’re just as hungry for gossip as the rest of us.”

He shrugs. “I’m not denying it.”

God help you, you’re going to rip off the band-aid. “Someone… Jesus, this is so embarrassing. Someone… wrote? Fanfiction? About us.”

“About you and Namjoon?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god—”

“About us… uh. Having sex? Specifically.”

“Oh my god—”

“Jungkook found it and thought it’d be funny if we read it for an episode.”

“Oh my god?”

“So we did? And it was really weird, which I expected, because I’ve known Namjoon for a long time, and I never, ever thought about having sex with him because we were together and me and Namjoon are friends, so yeah, it was fucking weird. But now… I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about it? And now we can’t even be in the same room as one another.” Yoongi is a concerning shade of red. “So our show is gonna get canceled, because we can only release b-side stuff for so long until people realize something’s up, and it was Namjoon’s podcast to begin with so obviously I’ll get fired—”

“Oh my god, you want to fuck Namjoon.”

Yoongi sounds like a strangled cat when he says this, which does not help the way you feel like you’ve been hit square in the face with a frying pan. “No,” you argue, though it sounds more like a question. You do not want to fuck Namjoon. “No, no. No. It’s just because it was weird.”

“Did you forget I dated you for six years? I know what you look like when you want to fuck someone.”

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t be weird if someone wrote fanfiction about you fucking your friend?”

“Not if I didn’t actually want to fuck them, no.”

“You’re a liar. Get your dog and get out of my apartment.”

Yoongi laughs as he stands. Pats you on the back in the most condescending way you’ve ever had someone pat you on the back. “Let me know how it goes. No need to give me credit for your moment of horny clarity.”

Min Yoongi is a bastard.

Unfortunately, as you come to find out, he’s also a correct bastard.

You want to fuck Namjoon.

Which is… not great, you have to admit, considering he can barely stand to be around you, so you take another cold shower and decide you’re going to take this to your grave. You’re going to spend the rest of the weekend getting your shit together, and you’re going to show up on Monday and be a consummate professional. You’re going to look at Namjoon and say, ha ha, isn’t it so funny someone thought we would have sex? I don’t think about it at all because I am so cool and normal about it.

You’ve got it all planned out. You’re going to show up fifteen minutes early with your own box of pastries. You’re going to look nice, if not a little pretentious—maybe a nice sweater. You’re going to be prepared with notes of your own. You might even be nice to the villain of the week so Namjoon doesn’t have to pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh at you.

And then someone knocks on your door.

You find Namjoon on the other side, and all your plans immediately go to shit.

Has he always been this tall? You can’t remember. You can’t remember a lot of things, including how to speak, because Yoongi had launched you into a crisis of epic proportions and now here’s the source of it, standing right in front of you. With all of his… height. And thighs. And that heady, musky cologne he always wears, that you can still smell now even though there’s an unfortunate amount of distance between you.

“Uh, hi.”

You blink. “Hi,” you parrot, and it’s a little insulting how one single word seems to have sucked up all of your brainpower. “Namjoon,” you tack on, not awkward at all.

“Sorry to just show up,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck. Very bad idea; makes his biceps bulge. You barely swallow your whimper. “It’s just—my phone’s still broken, and it felt bad leaving things how we did? So I was hoping we could talk.”

Talk. Namjoon wants to talk to you. Normally: not a problem. Currently: big problem. You manage a nod, open the door wider to let him in, and you don’t think about how jarring it is to have Namjoon in your space. You don’t think about how your legs feel like jelly all of a sudden, or what it’d be like if Namjoon bent you over the couch, or the kitchen counter, or the—

You cough. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Oh, sure. Maybe just some water if you have it.”

If you have it. What kind of person doesn’t have water? But you tell him to make himself comfortable and get him some anyway, and you mull too long over the size of the glass. Ultimately decide on a smaller one, because if things get unbearably awkward you can excuse yourself to the kitchen to get more.

“I haven’t been here in a while,” Namjoon says from the living room, and when you look up he’s sorting through a stack of books near the window. Some he’d lent you months ago, notes jotted in the corners, sticky notes in the shape of sea animals on important pages. “You ever wind up reading this?”

The Idiot. Namjoon had raved about it when he was in the midst of his 19th century Russian phase, right after he’d read a bunch of Tolstoy and Pushkin. You shake your head—though, judging from the title, you wonder if someone hadn’t written your biography.

“It’s good. If you have the time, you should definitely give it a shot.”

“Yeah, of course,” you say, handing over his water. You take a seat in an armchair, pull your knees to your chest. Namjoon’s still looking through your books, isn’t looking at you, so it feels safe to say, “You wanted to talk?”

“Yeah.” He moves to sit on the floor, massive thighs spreading until he’s comfortable. Thank god he can’t see the look on your face. “I just wanted to make sure we’re alright. Things have felt pretty weird since we filmed the, uh.” He coughs. “Thing.”

“Right, yeah.” You realize he’s waiting for an answer, and you offer up a very rushed, “We’re fine, Joon.”

“Are you sure?”

Yeah, you’re sure: sure you absolutely cannot be having this conversation in the safety and sanctity of your own home. It’s tainted now, contaminated by all your uncontrolled horny thoughts about the man in front of you. You’ll have to fumigate. Might have to pick up and move, actually, or call an exorcist.

“I’m sure,” you assure him. “The… thing… was weird, but it’s fine. Temporary.”

“Do you think we shouldn’t have done it?”

That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Because, in isolation, reading a porn fic about yourselves wasn’t a big deal. No one got hurt. Everyone who needed to be consulted was consulted. The episode made the two of you a lot of money, and Jungkook even promised to send some of it to the author, so your bases are beyond covered.

So, should you have done it? There wasn’t a good enough reason not to, because the story itself was never the problem.

The problem is staring you right in the face. It’s sitting on your floor, a book cracked in half at the spine and forgotten in his lap. The problem is looking at you like you hold all the answers to the universe’s secrets, and it’s no small thing to be looked at like that. The problem is that Namjoon is looking at you like that from across the room but you’re wondering what it’d look like from on top of you.

The problem is that you’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years, have known him even longer, and you’ve just realized today that you want to have sex with him.

And you can’t say that, can you, because Namjoon came here to fix things which really does not lend itself to a hookup. Namjoon cares about your friendship and your working relationship so much he came here to try and salvage it, so you’re going to keep your mouth shut. You’re going to say, “I think it’s okay that we did,” and leave it at that. Because it is okay.

Because you’re the problem.

It feels like a small victory when Namjoon sags in relief. When he exhales and says, “Okay, good, because I think so, too.”

“It made us a lot of money,” you tack on.

Namjoon’s eyes widen as he laughs. “Right? Like, that was almost too much money. Just to watch us read porn?”

“About ourselves. I think that was the selling point.”

He stands. You do, too. “Never thought I’d be doing that,” he says, returning the book to where it belongs. “Definitely the most embarrassing thing I’ve done for money.”

“Being a man with a podcast wasn’t embarrassing enough?”

He snorts. Gets closer to the door. “Hey now.” You’re going to survive this. “Thanks for entertaining me, by the way. For a second there I was really worried we’d fucked it all up.”

Just the ending. Just one more thing to say and you’ll be done with this, and then you can take your third cold shower in recent memory and triple text Yoongi with a full-fledged mental breakdown. Maybe he’ll bring Holly back and you can register him as your emotional support animal.

And Namjoon must sense the awkwardness that’s crept back in, because he tries to cover it with a joke. Says, “Haaa, like you’d actually piss on me, right?”

Except it sounds like he’s got a mouth full of marbles.

It’s no wonder you mishear him.

Because he says like you’d actually piss on me but you hear like you’d actually kiss me, and there isn’t a universe that exists in which the following makes sense: you, stunned into silence in the doorframe, Namjoon saying his goodbyes, you thinking fuck it, last chance and saying, “Yeah, I’d kiss you.”

Namjoon stops dead in his tracks. “What?”

Your entire body is on fire. “Is, uh. Is that not what you said?”

“I don’t think it matters anymore what I said.”

“I’d argue that it does, for the sake of my digni—”

“You’d kiss me?” Namjoon… doesn’t look put off of the idea, which is surely a point in your favor. Interesting to note that his diction is crystal clear, now. Bastard. “You’d kiss me right now?”

There’s also no explanation for the way you say: “It’s only been an option for ten seconds and you’re already begging for it?”

You’d say there’s no explanation for the way Namjoon’s jaw clenches, the way he repeats I don’t beg for anything, but maybe the simple fact is: the two of you want to fuck each other. And, judging from the way Namjoon crowds your space, keeps dropping his gaze to your mouth, it seems very likely to happen.

All that fixating you’d done on Namjoon’s thighs was wasted, you think, as you take in the shape of his mouth. His lips. The way his tongue darts out to run along the bottom at the last second before he reaches out, tilts your head up, and finally presses his mouth to yours.

And you’ve got to laugh, because no piece of written fiction could ever accurately portray what it feels like. How soft his lips are. The way he touches you—gentle, but still dominant enough to have you moving the way he wants, have you backing up into your apartment so he can smile against your mouth as he closes the door behind him.

No piece of fiction would get it right, the way you’re unsteady on your feet, breathless at the way Namjoon’s kissing you. How he only breaks apart long enough to ask where do you want me in that throaty, deep voice of his. How you’re so overwhelmed you can’t decide: unsure if you want to waste the time it’d take to get to your bedroom, but if it’s only going to happen once, wanting to make it count.

So you decide to risk it. Plant your hands in the middle of his exceptionally broad chest and push him in the direction of the hallway, and if the two of you can’t wait, can’t control yourselves, well.

But the story had gotten one thing right: Namjoon does kiss like a branding iron, hot and greedy. Namjoon kisses you like there’s nothing else he wants to do in this lifetime, and it makes you dizzy. Has you off-kilter, stumbling into the wall as you try to remember where the fuck your bedroom is and why it’s so far. Just like the fictional version of you, you also moan when he licks into your mouth.

“Should I do it the way we did in the fic?” Namjoon asks as the two of you cross the threshold into your bedroom, a cheeky grin on his face. “Do it like this?” he questions, pushing you gently until you’re on the back in the middle of your bed, chest heaving as you lift your head to look at him.

Namjoon is so, so big from where you lay, just hovering at the foot of your bed. Cheeks ruddy, bulge prominent. “What’d you say you wanted?”

Takes a second to remember how to breathe, let alone what you’d read. What do you want, Namjoon had asked, right before he’d sank to his knees in front of you. “Whatever you’re willing to give,” you answer.

Namjoon smiles. Puts one knee on the bed, and the way it dips beneath his weight is unsettling. Why does he have to be so fucking large. “That’s right, baby.” Christ, you think, because there’s another thing that fic had gotten right. No one on earth would be immune to Namjoon calling them baby in that tone of voice.

The riposte biting at the back of your teeth gets swallowed whole as Namjoon grabs your ankles and drags you to the edge of the bed. “May I?” he asks, hands poised above the waistline of your leggings. You nod, and Namjoon drags down your underwear with them. “Fuck, look at you,” he groans, awe creeping into the edge of his words.

“You want me to do it the same way? Hm? You’re being awfully quiet; thought you were giving me shit about being the one in charge,” he chides.

Because you’re short-circuiting. Namjoon’s on his knees, just like you’d envisioned, and his mouth is dangerously close to your cunt. How can you be expected to think and speak under these conditions? But if Namjoon can find the brainpower to be a bastard, so can you, because what you’d read and the way he’d reacted can both never be forgotten. So you thread your hands into his hair and pull. The resulting moan is enough to sustain you for years.

“Are you gonna keep running your mouth, or are you gonna make me come on it?”

He blinks. “Jesus Christ.”

There’s precedent. Fictional Namjoon ate you out like a man starved, like he couldn’t get enough. Had fictional you writhing and insatiable, so it’s a lot to live up to, but it doesn’t deter him in the slightest. He hesitates for only a second, giving you one last chance to back out before the two of you set every last boundary on fire, and then he’s settling between your thighs and making you see stars.

Now you know what it’s like. Now you don’t have to rely on fiction, and it doesn’t matter because it’d never compare to the way Namjoon feels as he works to bring you to your ruin. The way he flattens his tongue to lick long, thick stripes; the way his lips suction around your clit. The way it feels when he groans against your core. The way he says, “Fuck, you do taste good,” like that’s a completely normal thing to say. Like he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing to you.

But you need more and Namjoon knows it. His mouth doesn’t leave your cunt for a second, but his fingers find your mouth, so you put on a show. Wrap your lips around them, suck on them the way he’s doing to you, make sure they’re slick. Namjoon groans again, doubles his efforts. Slides one thick finger inside of you and barely lets you adjust before he’s adding a second.

In an embarrassingly short amount of time, Namjoon has you unraveling. Presses incessantly on a spot that has your vision whiting out. Has you trembling, a little panicked as you say, “Joon, fuck—Namjoon, wait—” as it builds and builds and builds.

You might black out for a second, because you come to and Namjoon looks… stunned. He looks like he can’t believe any of what just happened, and you blink a few times, try to come back into your body, and when you regain enough consciousness, you’re extremely aware of the large wet patch beneath you.

“Um—”

“Holy shit.”

“Namjoon, that’s not—that’s embarrassing—can you grab a—”

He shuts you up with a kiss. Presses the taste of you into your skin, and all those silly protests die in your throat, because if Namjoon was needy before, he’s desperate now. Covers your body with his own, hips dipping down low enough to press his erection into the juncture of your thigh, and the weight of him is delicious. Has you fisting the fabric of his t-shirt to pull him closer, has you pulling it over his head, his pants following. Has your hands skimming down every thick part of his body until you reach his cock, hard and aching and slick with pre-cum.

“I need to suck you off later,” you say, done with overthinking. Time to just be honest, and Kim Namjoon has a dick you need to feel down your throat. “Remind me.”

He whines, thrusts into your hand a little harder. “How could I forget that?”

“Don’t know. Didn’t know if this would be the only time,” you answer. “Did you bring a condom?” Namjoon nods, fetches one from his wallet and rolls it on.

He hovers above you again. Looks nervous, all of a sudden, like he can’t tell his lefts from his rights. All out of sorts. You’re about to tell him it’s fine, you don’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to, don’t have to do anything at all, when he says, “It doesn’t have to be.” You just stare. “The only time.”

There’s a conversation to be had. You know that. Both of you clearly have feelings you need to talk about and sort out, but you reckon they can wait. They’ll still be there in the afterglow, in the morning. So you nod, say okay, Joon, and kiss away the insecurities that still linger.

You think about the fic. Think maybe Namjoon would appreciate it if you cracked a stupid joke, just like he’d tried to do earlier. “Has anyone ever called your cock stupid?”

He laughs, breath fanning against your skin. “No. Wanna try it and see what happens?”

Might as well. You try to remember the exaggerated tone of voice you’d used. Repeat the line—“Do you even know what to do with that big, stupid cock?”—and wait.

There’s a beat of silence, and then—

Namjoon swallows thickly. “I, um. Unfortunately, I think that really works for me.” You laugh. Pull him closer. Wrap your legs around his waist as he starts to move against you. Has jokes of his own. “Please. Please let me fuck you.”

You roll your eyes, laugh tapering into a giggle. “Do you know how?” Namjoon nods, looking all too much like a puppy eager to please its owner. “Do you promise?” He nods again. “Okay. Okay, come here.”

You expect him to move fast; expect the first time to be frenzied and a little awkward. It isn’t. Namjoon lines himself up and pushes the smallest bit inside, and then he’s leaning down to kiss you. Threads your fingers together, squeezes your hand. Pushes further inside and mumbles praise just beneath your ear.

It’s dizzying, the amount of care Namjoon handles you with. How soft he is. Does nothing to ease the discomfort of the stretch, the overwhelming fullness, but he talks you through it. Tells you how good you feel, how beautiful you look. Spills a lot of words you’d probably be embarrassed to hear and he’d be embarrassed to say if this was any other time, but in the heat of the moment it all just works to unravel you faster.

He bottoms out. “Okay?” he asks, and you’re rewarded with a dimpled smile when you say you are. Namjoon is a devastating kind of beautiful.

But, as he gives you time to adjust and you give him the all-clear, he also fucks like a demon. What once was hand-holding is now your wrists pinned to the bed, your body caged beneath him as he rolls his hips at a pace that has your eyes rolling back into your head. You’ve been deceived. Lured into a false sense of security.

It’s almost a shame this isn’t being recorded, because you want to memorize all the sounds Namjoon’s making. Want to hear them for the rest of your life. Don’t want anyone else to be the reason he sounds like this, and as he ups his pace and presses his lips to your neck, you don’t want to sound like this because of anyone else, either.

Maybe one of those times in the future, you can talk him into it.

Namjoon reaches down, rubs circles into your clit. Every time you think you might be close, he pulls his hand away, smiles like the devil. You let him have his fun for a while, let him think you’re keen to lie back and take it, and then you tighten your legs around his waist and flip him onto his back.

He doesn’t think it’s very funny. Looks up at you all bewildered. “What’re you—”

“You were taking too long,” you snark. “Figured I’d take matters into my own hands.”

“Yeah? Shit,” he says as you begin to move. “Fuck, baby, like that. Ride me just like that.”

You do. Don’t change a thing, because Namjoon’s cock is long and thick enough to hit exactly where you need it to. You can feel yourself clenching, feel yourself getting wetter, and the sight of Namjoon beneath you does nothing to stave off the inevitable. He looks even better than you’d imagined: skin flushed, eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back, sweat-slick. You want to make him cry. Want to give him the entire world. You will.

Namjoon thrusts at the same time you roll your hips, and that’s what does it. Has you crying out, has stars flashing behind your eyelids. Has you saying fuck, fuck, fuck as he drives you over the edge for the second time. Has you on the brink of oversensitive as he thrusts a few more times to chase his own end, almost delirious at the way Namjoon moans as he spills into the condom.

Has you swooning, just a bit, at the dopey way Namjoon smiles at you, eyes half-lidded and crinkled at the corners.

“Was that okay?”

You snort. “Yeah, I’d say it was decent.”

“Maybe next time you could pee on me,” he jokes.

You whack him on the chest. “Sure. Or we could record it.”

Has you a little shocked at the way his cock twitches inside of you at the mention of it.

On Monday, you don’t wear a pretentious sweater.

When you stroll in, Jungkook’s already got the best donut shoved halfway into his mouth because he’s a shithead. He eyes you warily, probably hoping with all his hope that you spent the weekend finding God and getting your shit together.

And then he realizes you’ve got on Namjoon’s hoodie and he nearly chokes to death.

“What the fuck are you wearing—”

Namjoon appears at that very moment, and it’s so hard not to take credit for the way he’s glowing, the dazed smile on his face. But Jungkook notices, because Jungkook notices everything, and his gaze darts between the two of you: your hoodie, Namjoon’s face, your face. He opens his mouth, something inappropriate bound to spill out, but Namjoon beats him to the punch. “Ready?” he asks you, and you nod.

It’s seamless.

No hiccups, no awkward stuttering. Namjoon gets through the intro without a hitch, and it feels exactly like it used to. Just two friends having a conversation. It’s obvious Jungkook still wants to say something, but after suffering through last week, he stays quiet lest he makes it worse and sends the two of you back to the bad place.

“How was your weekend, Pipe? Do anything fun?” Namjoon rolls his lips, tries not to laugh.

So you play along. “No, not really, just some dog sitting. How about you?”

“Oh, you know me. Had another first date on Saturday.”

“Did you? How’d it go?”

“Perfect.”

It’s a blessing Jungkook isn’t filming this, because your eyebrows raise so far they nearly disappear from your face altogether. There isn’t even a hint of hesitation in Namjoon’s voice, and although you would’ve described it the same way, hearing him say it with such conviction has you a little stunned. “Wow. You gonna see her again?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon says, sharing a private smile with you. “I think I am.”

who the FUCK is namjoon dating Posted by u/pod-shipper 7 minutes ago This has honestly ruined my entire day. I thought all the stories he told about dating were a bit… Like, what kind of guy has a podcast about relationships but can’t seem to be in one? But you could just HEAR it in his voice how much he likes this woman he went on a date with over the weekend and I’m sick to my stomach. (+2195) ↳ bro you and me both 😭 i genuinely thought him and piper had something going on fr (+1302) ↳ Seriously might stop listening because of this! Any woman with self-respect would never let their partner host a podcast with someone they’re obviously in love with. If he gets serious with this woman, Piper will be gone within 6 months, mark my words. (+927) ↳ I wouldn’t worry about it too much! My cousin works at a really nice restaurant in the same city Namjoon lives in, and she said she saw this “date” on Saturday and that it wasn’t anything serious. (+788) ↳ Piper got a cat and Namjoon finally got a second date. Face it, it’s over. (+325) ↳ cannot believe him and piper aren’t dating.. do you think i should delete all my tiktok edits? (+4) ↳ this is unhinged lmfao i thought y’all hated piper? you’re in here bitching abt her being a “misandrist” every week and now ur gonna stop listening bc namjoon isn’t dating her? pick a lane and stay in it (-64)

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts, and reblogs/shares are always welcome! I appreciate you very much~ ♡

#namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #namjoon fanfic #namjoon imagine #namjoon scenarios #namjoon x you #namjoon x y/n #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jewel writes

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envy-of-the-apple · 4 months

Text

Infinite Rewind

Gojo Satoru x reader

Synopsis: Instead of dying, you are sent 13 years in the past, but this isn't your face. "Let's cut the shit." The white-haired kid grins. "Who are you and what're you doing in Suguru's body?"

Part two: Rewound Infinitely

Word Count: 18.1k

(Warnings: slight yandere, death, murder, inaccurate Tokyo geography, blood, violence, mild gore, obsession, unhealthy relationships, child abuse/neglect, time looping(?), fem!reader) Ageless blogs that try to follow me will be blocked

First, you saw a monster.

It was big and horrible—nasty teeth. You heard screaming. People. Running as fast as they could away from the creatures. Pain.

And then, you saw a bright, clear sky.

The sun was blaring down at you. It was so hot. Wasn't it December? How was the sun out at night?

"Hey, you good?"

A girl is looking at you. Short brown hair. She's peering down at you, wearing a high-school uniform. How is she wearing all black when the weather is so hot?

When you don't respond, her eyes squint.

"Suguru, are you okay?"

That's not your name; your mouth moves faster than your brain.

"I-I'm fine." That wasn't your voice. It was deeper. More masculine. What the fuck happened to your voice?

The girl gives you another strange look but you're too busy freaking out over your new voice. Your hands are different too. A completely different skin tone, larger.

And then you're fumbling with your pockets, clothes you know you didn't buy. The girl is calling for you again but you're too busy pulling out a fucking flip-phone and looking into the black screen, the only thing you have for a mirror.

Purple eyes stare back. These aren't your eyes. This isn't your nose. This isn't your hair. This isn't your face. You blink. He does too. You open your mouth. So does he. You pinch your cheek. In the reflection, he winces.

Oh, you just fucking bodysnatched someone.

ⴵ

Ten minutes later, you conclude that your name is Geto Suguru, you are a 16-year-old boy, the year is 2006, and you attend a religious academy.

"You're finally acting normally again." The girl-newly discovered as Ieiri- says. "No more weirdness."

You don't blame her, considering you grabbed her by the shoulders, asking ridiculous questions like: what year is it, who am I, why am I here, who are you, am I dead, is this Hell, etc. For a teenage girl, she took your outburst well.

"Sorry," you say and by now you've gotten used to your voice, "it must have been the stress from studying."

She just hums, continuing to walk beside you. Though, Ieiri had a point. You were definitely calmer, and it was mostly because you figured it out.

You were dreaming.

You were lucid dreaming, to be more precise. Your brain was conjuring up a weird setting and you just happened to be placed in another person's body. You heard about this happening before. You were just so freaked out because this was the first time anything like this had happened to you.

An impulsive part of you wants to tell Ieiri that this is just a dream, but you've heard weird things happen after a lucid dreamer tries to break the illusion. It's best if you just let it just play out and see where this goes.

“Excited?”

“Hm?” You ask. And Shoko rolls her eyes.

“For the mission you have this evening. Special grade. Sounds scary.” She says, her sarcasm evident.

Mission? Special grade? You don’t know what those words mean but it sounds like a school field trip. Shoko takes your hesitance as something else.

“Ah,” she says, “so you forgot.”

“I didn’t.” You reply on instinct.

“I expected this from Satoru, not you. You should stop hanging out with him, he’s starting to rub off on you.”

You give a sheepish laugh, and it’s enough to quell her questions.

She leads you into the school, all through the winding halls and through an office door. You couldn’t be more grateful, it’s not like you would have known where to go. It’s a teachers room. Two people are already inside.

“Wait, for once, I’m early?” The boy with sunglasses asks, voice dripping with amusement. He’s leaning dangerously on a chair. You stare at him. You’ve never seen someone with white hair before. It can’t be real.

“He forgot.” Shoko pipes up and the boy cackles.

“That’s hilarious. I’m starting to rub off on you.” Ah, this must be Satoru.

You give a nervous smile. “Haha, yeah.”

The boy stops rocking in the chair. Three pairs of eyes look at you. Your uniform feels itchy.

“Gojo, stop making such a ruckus.” The man, presumably his teacher, gruffs. "You two got the briefing yesterday. Do your job and for the last time do not leave your assistant manager behind again."

Gojo groans, and you delve into more confusion. Before you can say anything, the kid is hopping out of his seat before lazily striding out the door. Shoko and the teacher look at you expectantly.

Oh, you were supposed to follow him.

Not wanting to make a scene, you catch up to Gojo. He's tall, his footsteps are long and wide. But you're tall now too, so it's easy to keep up with him. This new body of yours has a lot of pros.

"Yaga's so annoying," Gojo suddenly says, "constantly nagging us like that. It's not our fault the assistants can't keep up."

What should you say? You clear your throat.

"He just wants what's best for us."

Wrong answer.

"Where'd that come from?" He snorts. How charming. "I know you agree with me. You're just tryna' act like the nicer one, again. It's starting to get a little old."

Is that how 16 year-olds talk? Rude, but also strangely off-putting, like he can see straight through you. Or more accurately, he can see straight through Suguru. How close are these two, anyway?

Why did any of these questions even matter? This is a dream! You need to wake up already.

On the campus grounds, a sleek black car waits outside for you two. Along with a miffed man in a black suit. This must be a very rich school for a field trip to have a chauffeur. Where were you two going again?

Gojo hops in the back, taking one of the window seats. You take the other. In your own body, you would've fit nicely. But Suguru's legs are long, and the spacious car feels cramped. You should've taken the passenger seat. How do tall people live like this?

The ride is quiet. Out the corner of your eye, you catch Satoru type away on his flip phone. A moment later, yours beeps. You still have no idea how to use Suguru's phone or his password, so you ignore his message. Satoru groans.

Quickly, you learn that Satoru has a very low attention span. When looking out the window gets boring, he bugs the chauffeur. When the chauffeur ignores him, he starts bugging you.

"Hey heyyyy," Satoru says, "when this is all over, we should go to that new ice cream place. Like you said, we should."

You look at him. "Uh, sure." You say.

"And you should pay for it, 'cuz you said you owed me last time."

Fine, whatever. "Sure thing."

He grins. You can't see his glasses, and it makes his smile even more unnerving. This kid.

This doesn't feel like a normal field trip at all. Why did you stop in front of some rackety house that looked as though it were about to collapse? You turn back to the only adult in the vicinity, but he's out too. He takes out a lighter and a cigarette. In front of impressionable children, too. Wonderful.

"I'll wait out here." He says, though his tone is uncaring. "Since we're out in the country, there's no need for a veil. Do your best."

Veil? What? Gojo's already going off again and you've already decided to be his chaperone, so you follow. You reluctantly trail behind him. Feet crunch the leaves. The house grows bleaker and bleaker.

"Okay, I have a plan!" Gojo exclaims when he gets through the squeaky door. He's so loud, can't he be quieter? "I check upstairs and you check the ground floor and the basement. Got it?"

Check the house? Were he and Suguru electricians in training or something? That still wouldn't explain why a grown man decided to drop off two teenagers in front of a creepy mansion. And why in God's name did Gojo want to split up?

"I-I don't think that's a good idea," you say, "shouldn't we try to stick together?" Or, better yet, leave.

He clicks his tongue. "Ugh, you're so lame. Not like Suguru at all."

Wait, what did he say? You're about to call out to him when he climbs up the stairs, disappearing from view. Unbelievable.

This kid was starting to get on your nerves. Enough, you were leaving. You could have a nice dream where you met and fell in love with Zendaya, not babysitting some teenager, whilst possessing another person's body. You were going to wait outside with the man and hope your dream finally came to an end.

Except, you couldn't go outside. The door was gone.

It-it was right behind you, right? The entrance was right behind you. You couldn't have gotten turned around so quickly? What the hell happened? Or maybe you had gotten turned around? Considering how distracting that Gojo kid was, you might not have realized it.

You look around the house. Looks like it'd been abandoned for a while. There's dirt on the shelves. Chairs were toppled over and left to rot. The wooden floorboards dangerously creaked beneath you. Just what had happened here?

There's no patio door. No door leading to the outside. At the same time, you hadn't explored everything yet. Each door led to a room. The only door that didn't, led to a basement. And no, you weren't going down there.

When you got back to where you started, you noticed something had changed.

There was a person. Seated right at the base of the stairs?

Gojo? Was he done with urban exploring? Maybe he knew the way out. He stands up, reaching to his full height, then higher, then higher.

Gojo was tall, but this thing was taller. Gojo was human. This thing wasn't.

What the fuck you can only mouth because your voice is stuck in your throat when it takes a shaky step towards you. It's a black husk of a figure, too skinny but too tall and twitching fingers. You don't know how you could've mistaken this for the kid.

Another step. You're running, back into the house, leaping over the fallen shelves and creaky floorboards. It gives chase, and you can hear it groan behind you. It's deep and rumbly and terrifying. It just motivates you to go faster.

It's slower than you. That's good, but it seems to realize this. You can barely celebrate your advantage before something heavy is smashed into your back, sending you toppling to the floor. You and wooden chair crash on the ground.

It hurts.

Everything hurts.

Dreams aren't supposed to hurt. Because this wasn't a dream.

This was real. You were stuck in the year 2006, stuck in another person's body, about to get mauled by a monster.

You were going to die.

You aren't even fighting anymore. How pathetic is that? The shock numbs your body as the thing grows closer and closer, all you can do is reach your hands up, protecting your face.

And then the creature explodes.

An implosion. It's skin and bones twist in a way no one should. There's a shriek, something wrong and high and inhuman before it's gone. Like it never existed in the first place.

After all that, he's still smiling. Like the cat that just caught the mouse.

"I guess we're not pretending anymore, are we?" Gojo asks, stretching his arms. "That's good. That game was starting to get a little boring, anyways. Now, then."

He folds his glasses, tucking it on his uniform. Blue, his eyes are. As blue as a clear sky.

"Let's cut the shit." The white-haired kid grins. "Who are you, and what're you doing in Suguru's body?"

ⴵ

Contrary to your belief, Gojo Satoru is a good listener.

There's never an interruption. Not even once. Every once in a while, he nods, a hand on his chin. It's probably because he can't interrupt. You just keep going on and on. Word vomit.

He only speaks when you pause to catch your breath. "So you are from the year 2017, and you went back in time to body-snatch someone. I had a feeling your technique had something to do with possession."

You look at him warily. "Wait, you knew this entire time?"

You two hadn't moved from your earlier spot. You were still sprawled on the floor, still feeling the adrenaline surge through you. Gojo had transitioned to squatting on the floor. He scratches his neck, still so casual.

"I have good eyes. Don't worry about it." He shrugs. "Anyway, you seem pretty harmless, and as annoying as it is not having Suguru around, I doubt killing you would do any good." Why is he being so nonchalant about murder? Is this kid really sixteen?

"I think we gotta' just wait around until your technique reactivates." Gojo whistles. "2017. That's like a decade away. I wonder what happened for your technique to show up."

You blink, trying to remember the date.

"It was Christmas Eve..." You glance at him. "And then I was here."

He thinks for a moment. "Yeah, I got nothing." Of course.

He sighs, before sprawling on the dirty floor, belly up. You grimace at his antics but choose to keep your mouth shut.

He doesn't seem very worried. At the most, he looks mildly inconvenienced. Why isn't he worried about his friend?

When you ask him, he just snorts.

"Sorry, but you're not that scary. Besides, I don't have to worry about Suguru. He's strong."

Well, that's nice to know, but one other thing still bothers you.

"You speak so casually to me," you mutter, "You know I'm older than you, right? I'm 22."

He laughs. "22? Damn. You're old, man."

"That isn't old!" You argue. "You have no concept of age since you're just a teenager." And why did he assume you were a man? Oh right, you were trapped in a teenage boy’s body. Of course.

"I mean, technically, I'm older than you, right?" Gojo ponders with a grin. "If you're 22 in 2017, that makes you what—11 in 2006?"

You say nothing because you have a feeling that if you continue to argue with him, he'll just drag you down to his insanity.

"Technique, you've said that a couple of times." You look at him. "That's what you call your 'powers', right? Does Geto have one too?"

"Yeah," Gojo says, "but you can't use it. You have zero cursed energy. Honestly, it's at the same level as a plant. A bit lower than regular humans. It's a little impressive, actually." For one second, could he stop being so condescending?

"What's his technique?" You ignore his comments. "Could it be related to how I got here?"

He gives you a look over. "I doubt that, but Suguru's technique is curse manipulation. Uh, you remember that thing you saw earlier." You nod. "Yeah, he can control and absorb them."

He sounds pretty awesome. You look at your hands. Not your hands. Geto's hands. They're paler than yours, and a lot longer. This isn't your body. Your soul can feel it. You can feel the guilt too.

'I'd give it back if I could,' you think, 'I just don't know how.'

Gojo's getting up. He stretches. He was lying on the ground but you can't see a speck of dirt on his uniform.

"Okay, then. No use mopping around." He grins down at you. "Maybe Yaga can do something about you. Let's get you back to jujutsu tech."

You blink up at him. His hand is outstretched, reaching out to you. He's still grinning that insufferable grin but his eyes have slightly melted.

"Okay." You say, barely touching his fingertips. "Let's-"

And then Gojo's gone. And then, you're standing. And then it's cold.

You're wearing a coat; weren't you wearing a uniform before? There's no clear sky. It's nearly dusk.

You were standing on the sidewalk, where people bustled all around you. You fumble through your jackets, putting out a phone. An actual iphone. You flick on the screen.

December 24th, 2017, 7:06.

Holy shit, you were back.

Was it because you touched Gojo? That makes no sense, but how could you explain anything else that happened so far? God. You rake a hand through your hair. Your hand. Your hair. You can't believe how much you missed yourself. It felt so good to be back.

Your mind is spinning, you had no idea what the fuck just happened.

For now, you just wanted to turn your mind off and grab a drink.

You know there was a bar not too far from your location. Along the way, you pass by the bustling town. There's a couple walking side by side, giggling over something you couldn't hear. Right, it's the 24th. You remember your empty bed with no one to share it with, and you cement your desire to drown yourself in alcohol today.

Your self-pitying session is almost how you nearly miss him. His shoulder brushes past you. You're about to apologize when you hear his voice. It's familiar.

It used to be your voice.

It's all there. Black hair, but it's longer this time around. Of course it is, he's had years to grow it out. He's tall, he must've grown since highschool. His broad back is the only thing you see, you're almost afraid to reach out to him.

"Suguru...?"

He freezes like you've shot him. When he turns around, it's like looking into a fractured past. He looks older, no longer a youthful teenager. You should have paid more attention to his eyes, how scrutinizing they were, how condescending his fake smile was. All that you could think of was that it was actually him.

"Do I know you?" He tilts his head. "Apologies, but my girls and I are quite busy."

You don't notice the two young ladies beside him until Geto points them out. Teenagers, maybe just around the age when you first met him. He was a father now.

You're so swept up by the emotions that you barely notice they've continued walking. You stumble behind, ducking behind the alleyway they went into.

"Wait! Geto!" You call. "Please! We need to talk!" You still needed your answers. You didn't know care how desperate you came off as.

In hindsight, you should have noticed that they looked more annoyed than worried about a stranger chasing them across the street.

The one with the ponytail scoffs. "This one talks an awful lot. How annoying."

Geto sighs. He leaves his daughters, finally standing in front of you. This is what you wanted, right? A chance to talk to him.

Still, you can't help but feel wrongness within you. His smile is off.

"Most monkeys are just that, unfortunately." You don't move. You can't. Not when he places a hand on your skull. "I suppose it'd be humane to put this one out of its misery."

Geto Suguru crushes your skull. And then you die.

ⴵ

Again. You died again.

This is the second time Geto has killed you. Fuck, you should've realized.

"Back again, Greeny?" Gojo asks.

He and Suguru were sitting outside in the grass. Satoru's holding up a few playing cards. You look at Suguru's hands and find yourself doing the same.

Not again.

"What year is it?" You ask warily. "And what did you just call me?"

Gojo grins with teeth. You remember he compared you to a plant before, didn't he? He's so clever with nicknames; someone should give him an award.

"Welcome back to 2006!" Gojo beams. "It's only been a couple of days since you left. And why are you so grumpy? I'm the one who just lost a player."

You weren't grumpy, you were pissed. You figured out what's been going on with you, and it's all because of the asshole you're possessing right now.

The look on his face when he killed you. Like you were nothing more than an animal. A monkey. Now, you feel a lot less guilty about possessing his body.

At least you figured out two things. You know how your technique works. Whenever someone kills you, you are sent back in time to take over their body. But you can go back whenever you touch Gojo, or perhaps just another sorcerer.

Secondly, you have access to Geto's memories.

It didn't happen the first time you died. It must have been because the kill wasn't direct (from Getos curse, rather than himself), but milliseconds after Geto split your skull in two, your brain was overwhelmed by his past, his present, as well as his future.

Geto was set to die on December 24th, 2017. At the hands of his best friend, Gojo Satoru.

Fuck him. Let the bastard die. You didn't give a shit.

You reach over to touch Gojo's arm, ready to leave. He pulls back with a snicker. Ugh, the brat must've figured out your technique, too.

"Stop messing around." You tell him. "I need to go back to my timeline."

"Sure, sure," he says as though speaking to a time traveler is just another Tuesday. "But first, finish the game with me."

"No." You tell him before leaning out even further. He isn't moving away anymore, but you still can't reach him. Fuck, he must've activated his technique.

Despite your annoyance, you decide to keep the future away from Gojo's ears. He doesn't need to know that he'll be the one to kill Suguru. He shouldn't. Not at his age. He's just a kid.

"Just one game! I promise!" He pleads. "Then I'll let you go. Suguru never lets me beat him, I want an easy opponent to boost my ego."

You roll your eyes, but you settle down, picking up the cards. You already know the rules; you have Geto's memories, after all.

It's silent, save for Gojo's humming. When you place down your King of hearts, you ask:

"Hey, is my cursed energy different at all?" You ask.

"Not really." He squints. "Wait, it has grown a little. Aw, Greeny sprouted!"

So, every time you die, your cursed energy increases. That, or your cursed energy, increases every time you time travel. It doesn't matter either way. Does this mean you can use Geto's technique now? It couldn't hurt to try, right?

There's a demon-no, they're called curses you know that now- floating beside you, just a little ways away. Small. Barely fourth grade. You stick your hand out, calling out Geto's power. There's a pull, a rush of energy.

A blue ball drops into your hand.

"Holy shit." Gojo leans forward. "So you can use his techniques." Surprisingly, there's no wariness in his voice. Just awe.

"Yeah." You breathe before glancing up at him. "Shouldn't you be focused on your cards?"

He shrugs, tossing the cards away. "What cards?"

You sigh before staring at the ball. Well, you captured the curse. All that's left to do is swallow it, right? You can do that. You open your mouth. Gojo is still staring. You scowl.

"Look away."

He rolls his eyes. "It's not like I haven't seen you do this before. Well, not you, the guy that you bodysnatched."

Ass, you keep that in your head as you hold your breath. You swallow the ball down.

Instantly, you choke.

It's horrible. Like a rotten carcass on the highway, oozing blood and oil and pus. You start dry-heaving, suffocating, spit dribbles down your chin. Nothing comes out. You've already absorbed it. The taste of a cursed spirit no one knows. Like swallowing a rag that was used to wipe up vomit and shit. Exorcised. Ingested. Exorcised. Ingested. Exorcised. Ingested. Exorcised. Ingested.

"Is it really that bad?" Gojo observes you. "That guy swallows them down, no problem."

Because Suguru was used to this taste. He was used to the responsibility. The hoarding mass of distraught absorbing a curse comes with. It was a disgusting art. Something he'd perfected to mask for years. Until he couldn't take it anymore.

Fuck, you might have lost your mind, too, if you kept having to eat this. To protect people who were happy you failed.

You snapped out of it. Suguru's memories were affecting your own. That's probably a sign that you need to get out of here. No way would you be sympathizing with someone so monstrous.

"Hopefully, I never do that again." You slowly recover, wiping your spit away with your hand. You lean back on your hands, exhausted.

"Something I've always wondered." You call out to Gojo. "What did Suguru ever think about someone possessing his body."

Gojo laughed. "Funny thing. He never knew."

"What?" You look at him. "No gaps in his memory? Nothing?"

"Nope," Gojo said, "he remembered what happened in the house, but he thinks he did everything. And then he said something weird."

You perk up at that. "What did he say?"

Gojo tilts his head. Then, he shrugs.

"I forgot." Typical.

You pinch your nose bridge. "So, did you tell anyone else about...this?" You gesture to yourself.

"Wait, you're supposed to be a secret?" You look at him in alarm. "In my defense, I didn't know, but I haven't gotten the chance to tell anyone. After the mission, Suguru and I went to the arcade, and then I kinda' forgot about it."

Well, at least Gojo's arrogance works in your favor sometimes. You can't let anyone know, especially anyone connected to the higher-ups. From Geto's memories, you know they don't like anything new. It's best to stay under their radar.

"Good, well, from now on, we're keeping it a secret. Got it?"

"What are you two keeping a secret?" A new voice pops up. You jump.

You know him—at least from Geto's memories. Haibara beams at you. He looks so alive in the sunlight, smiling and with bright eyes.

He'll be dead within a year or so.

Gojo takes advantage of your shock. "The bodysnatcher wants me to promise that I won't tell anyone that a curse-user is possessing Suguru's body."

"What the hell? You just promised that you wouldn't tell anyone!"

"Uh, technically, I didn't promise anything yet." Gojo retaliates. "But okay, fiiiiine. I won't tell anyone....except for Haibara." You groan.

"What's going on?" Haibara's smile fades. "Wait, Gojo, is this not Geto? Is this person actually a curse-user!?"

"I'm not a curse-user." You correct. "I'm not a sorcerer either, for the record."

"You just used a curse technique to travel back in time to take over someone's body." Gojo enunciates. "Sounds like a sorcerer to me."

"Wait, you're a time-traveler, Mr. Not-Geto?" Haibara asks and you are genuinely impressed he's able to keep up.

"The name’s Greeny, Haibara." Gojo supplements. Haibara nods, still a bit unsure.

"So...do we fight Greeny?"

"It's not my name." You get ignored.

"Nah, it's all good. Greeny's harmless. Just a weakling, don’t worry about it." Rude, but you don’t think you’d want Gojo to take you as much of a threat, not after knowing what he can do.

"Oh, okay!" Haibara instantly relaxes. The kid's really trusting, huh?

"Okay, fine, but no one else can know, got it, Gojo?" This promise doesn't matter. It's not like you're planning on returning to the past anytime soon. As soon as you return to the present, you are leaving Tokyo and escaping the night parade of 100 demons. Fuck that. You don't want to die again.

He waves you off. "Yeah, yeah."

He's so insufferable. You don't know who's worse: the genocidal maniac or this brat.

"Give me your hand. I want to go home."

Haibara looks confused. "Wait, why does Greeny need your hand?"

"It's how the curse technique works," Gojo explains. "Greeny gets sent back in time, and then my true-love's touch sends him careening forward into the future." You frown at his comment, but he turns to you before you can say anything.

"Which reminds me, Greeny: ever figure out how your technique works?"

No way are you telling a kid that their best friend killed you....twice. Instead, you just shrug.

"Haven't figured it out yet."

Gojo stares at you. "Huh." He responds. "Well, if you ever figure it out, lemme' know."

Sure you will. You hold up your hand. Gojo, finally holds his own up. Out of the corner of your eye, Haibara waves. And then you're back in your own body, on December 24th, 2017, 7:06 pm.

You waste no time. You push at the crowd, squeezing through the hoards of people. You need to get out. You need to leave before the death parade starts, before you're trapped in that terrifying cycle of death again.

You need to leave.

Exorcised. Ingested.

No no no. Shut up. This wasn't you. This was Geto's memories.

Exorcised. Ingested.

You need to leave.

Exorcised. Ingested.

You need to survive.

The taste of a cursed spirit no one knows.

You stop, right there in the middle of the sidewalk. People glare, cursing as they move around you. They don't know this place will be a bloodbath in a matter of minutes. They'd all die. But you could stop it.

If only if you hadn't accessed Geto's memories. If only if you hadn't eaten that damn curse. If only if you hadn't sympathized with a murderer. Maybe you'd have the courage to escape your future.

But you'd felt that taste. Horrible. If you eat enough, you could go insane. If you were lonely enough, that would do it too.

The taste of a cursed spirit no one knows. No one except for you.

At 8:06 the screams start. The monsters come out to play their song. You close your eyes, forgive Suguru, and you die once more.

ⴵ

For once, when you open your eyes, Gojo isn’t there with you.

You’re still on the campus of Jujutsu tech. Suguru was just about to grab his soda from the vending machine. You finish his job. The can feels cold. It feels refreshing on your tongue. It’s a momentary distraction to the fact that you have no clue what you’re doing.

You understand your cursed technique, but you still struggle with the application. Fuck, what did you do? You were utterly fucked. You’re playing a dangerous game. If you died- if Geto died- here, what would even happen?

The worst part is that you can’t even think of the hypothetical because there’s no other choice. You needed to do this. To not only save the people in Tokyo from the Night Parade, but to also save Geto Suguru. The man who has killed you three times now.

Geto’s dissent starts to worsen at Riko Amanai’s death. If you could prevent that from happening, you could probably change history. But Geto’s true fracture begins with the curses themselves. They were rotting him from the inside.

You grimace, but you have to do it. You have to eat every single curse that Geto couldn’t swallow down himself.

One was coming up. In less than an hour, Yaga will call you and Gojo for a mission. It’ll be a special-grade grave-type curse. Dispatching it will be simple, but Geto would be the one to exorcise it, ingesting the screams of all that the curse devoured. You needed to prepare yourself for that.

Maybe you should save some of this soda to wash the taste off later.

“Geto!” Someone cheers, you jump, but Haibara’s already poking his head around the wall. He grins.

“Hey! Oh, you’re not Geto, aren’t you?” He tilts his head. “Greeny?”

“Keep your voice down,” you whisper, “wait, you can recognize me?”

He nods, after checking to make sure no one’s around, he says, “yeah, your eyes are different? It’s hard to explain.” He tells you.

Huh. Interesting.

“You’ve been gone a while.” Haibara beams. “It’s been a few weeks. I’m glad you’re back, Gojo was starting to get cranky.”

It’s probably because he had no one to mess with. Poor him. He has all your sympathies. Ass.

“I’m glad to return as his punching back.” You mutter.

Haibara shyly shuffles his feet.

“So, are you really from the future?” He asks. “Was Gojo telling the truth?”

You nod. “Haibara, you haven’t told anyone, right?”

“Of course not!” He instantly says. “Not a soul. Not even Nanami, and I tell him everything! Your secret’s safe with me.”

“And Gojo, too! I know he doesn’t look very trustworthy, but me and him have kept it under wraps.”

Reluctantly, you can’t help but agree with the kid. Gojo is annoying, but so far, he hasn’t done anything super harmful.

“So anyway, Greeny.” He clears his throat. “Considering you’re from the future and all. Would you mind telling me what my future will be like?”

You blink at him. He takes it as a sign to continue. “Nothing much! I just wanna know what I’ll be doing in 2017. Will I finally be a grade 1 sorcerer?”

You think of Geto’s final memories of Haibara. A child burying another child.

“Sorry,” you lie through your teeth, “but I didn’t know you in my future. Again, I’m not really a sorcerer.”

Haibara nods, disappointed but still very excitable. He asks you about other things about the future, and you try to answer to the best of your ability, but you can’t shake off his dead glass eyes, staring at you from the morgue.

“Another thing, we should have a code word.” Haibara exclaims.

You blink. “A code word?”

“If we ever meet in the future,” he explains, “y’know, in 'Groundhog’s day', he has to keep explaining what’s happening repeatedly? In order to prevent that, we should have a secret word between eachother so I instantly know who you are.”

Not the same exact situation, but it sounds like exactly something a child would come up with. You indulge him anyway.

“Okay, what did you have in mind?”

“Well, it can’t be anything too crazy, or we might attract unwanted attention.” Haibara puts a hand on his chin in serious thought. You smile.

“Got it! If you ever see me, just yell ‘brocolli head’ really really loudly. Then I’ll know.” Haibara chirps.

“Wait, why broccoli head?”

“Because broccoli heads are green!” Haibara chirps happily.

You’re starting to learn it’s best not to question his logic.

You nod, very amused. “Sure thing, Haibara.”

Someone calls out his name. He jumps before he waves to you. You watch as he joins with Nanami. They talk about something you can’t hear. Haibara laughs and you decide it would be a shame if his laugh was lost to death.

Gojo finds you eventually. You can’t hide from him forever. You were walking into the school when he caught up with you. He’d ran there. His breath was slightly ragged.

“Greeny, couldn’t get enough last time, huh?” You shoot him a look.

“What are you talking about? Doesn’t matter, we need to go, the missions coming up.”

Gojo’s smile dips ever so slightly. “How’d you know about that?”

It’s probably not a good idea to tell the guy's best friend that you’re possessing that you’ve unlocked his memories.

“Haibara told me.”

“Ah,” He replies, “let’s go then.”

The car ride is different this time around. Less tension. You aren’t as confused. Gojo is seated quietly beside you, watching the scenery go by. The assistant is too preoccupied with belting the radio to notice Gojo's words.

“Figured it out yet?” He asks. “Your technique.”

He's persistent about that answer, isn't he? You're sure the only reason Gojo cooperates with you is because he thinks you're inhabiting Suguru's on accident. How would he react if he knew you were doing it intentionally? It's best not to get on the strongests’ bad side.

“Oh, not really, but I think it’s random. I can’t seem to find a set pattern. Maybe Suguru calls out to me, somehow?”

“Maybe.” Gojo replies. His time is flat. Anxiety flips through your stomach.

“You’re different this time around,” Gojo says.

“Am I?” You ask. “I guess I’m just more determined today.”

He gives you a look over. "Oh yeah? What for?"

"The curse. I'll exorcise it, today."

You don't know how you wanted Gojo to react to that, but you're still disappointed when he turns back to the window.

"Do whatever, Greeny."

In the end, you do swallow the curse. You manage to hold your gags in this time.

It's worse than before. It makes sense. This curse was first-grade. Stronger. In terms of taste, it was like curdled blood and mold. You were so grateful for that soda.

Gojo only watches with a tilted head.

"You're getting better at that."

You give a weak grin.

"Practice makes perfect," you reply, "do you think I'll get strong enough to absorb a special grade soon?"

He doesn't like your question. You can see it in his stiff expression.

"Maybe. Why do you want to swallow up curses, anyway? Last time you were here, you were practically begging to go back."

His response wasn't exactly hostile but far from his usual playful attitude. You knew you'd have to confront this eventually. Despite how nonchalant he acted, it's clear Satrou doesn't enjoy watching someone prance around in his friend's body like this. If he starts to dislike you, it could rupture your entire plan. You need his cooperation, more than anything, to save Suguru.

A little bit of the truth. Just a bit. It can't hurt, can it?

"Curses taste horrible," you say, looking at the ground. You can still taste the remnants of it, "it's the worst thing in the world. I can't even explain how wrong it feels to eat one. I thought...while I'm in his body...I could maybe help Suguru a little. I could ingest the curses in his stead, so that way, he still gets to absorb it." But it'll lessen the trauma it has on his mental state.

You can't see how Gojo feels about that. Those glasses of his cover everything. But you know he's staring at you. The six eyes are taking you apart, observing you whole.

"Did you know Suguru in the future?" He asks.

"I didn't." The man that killed you. The man that will keep killing you. And you'd forgive him each time.

Another beat of silence.

Finally, he just sighs. "You're the kind of person who'll jump in front of a truck to save a kitten, right?"

You give a sheepish laugh.

"That isn't a compliment, by the way. You're just really reckless. And maybe stupid, Greeny." His tone isn't mean.

"My name still isn't Greeny." You tell him.

"Oh yeah, what's your name, then?" He's reverted back to that teasing lilt, and it almost makes you relax if you don't note the curiosity underneath.

So far, you've been lax giving away information regarding the future, but you don't think you should continue that. What if you're too careless and the future changes in a way you didn't intend? A name, personal information, that could be way too dangerous.

"Actually, just call me Greeny. I like that name a lot better."

"You complained about it all the time, though?" Gojo argues.

"It's starting to grow on me." You grin. "Grow? Get it, because you compared me to a plant and-"

"Stop stop, you really are an old man." Gojo groans. You just grin wider. Then, you grimace.

“I can still taste it.” You complain. “I’d kill for a cigarette right now.”

“I caught our assistant manager smoking a while back,” Satoru suggests. “Maybe you could go and beg him for one.”

You toss him a look. “Suguru doesn’t smoke, and I’m not giving a teenager a nicotine addiction.” You have found lighters inside Suguru’s pockets, but you have a feeling it isn’t for his own cravings.

"Hey, could you do me a favor?"

He gives a wordless hum.

"Maybe after this, could you take Suguru out to a cafe'? I can taste the aftertaste of the curse." You shudder. "Just get him something to wash it down."

Also, Suguru couldn't go back to his dorm after this. Suguru dissented because of his fractured relationship with everyone, not just with Satoru. You'd try to bridge the gap between him and his peers as much as you can. You go through Suguru's flip phone, asking Shoko if she wants to join the two.

When you're done with that, you snap the phone closed.

"Okay, I'm done here. You two have fun, okay?" You raise your hand.

Gojo just huffs, amused. "Sure sure. By the way, someone wanted to thank you."

You blink at that. "What?"

He shakes his head. "Don't worry about it."

He gives you a high-five, and then you're back in 2017 in your own body.

Temporarily. So far you figured out that you get sent back an hour before the night parade happens. 8:06. Considering you have a couple more minutes to kill before you’re killed, you reach into your pocket for that cigarette you’ve been craving. You pick the first out of the box, cherry burns just out of corner of your eye.

You notice things now. The children giggled to their parents. Old couples gingerly held hands with sweet smiles. You'd save them, but first, you need to save Suguru.

And do really do that, you'd have to save Riko.

Easier said than done. You could go back in time, but you can't really control when to go back in time. It's been random, but your trips are typically two days away from each other. You can work with that.

But in order to get to Riko's death, you'd have to die...a lot. Absorbing curses made Suguru lose his mind, but how well would you fare with dying over and over again?

"Hungry?"

Someone looms over you. A woman. She's pretty, with short hair and bangs. In her hand, she holds a bag of chips.

"The vending machine gave me an extra." She gives a laugh. She kind of sounds like you. "Would you like one?"

"Oh." You take it. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." She trots off into the crowd. You watch her.

A stranger's act of kindness. She didn't even know what would happen to her soon. You grip the bag, it crinkles in your grasp.

It didn't matter how well you'd fare with dying over and over again. You'd get over it. So many innocent people depended on you. You can't just abandon them like this.

You're the kind of person who'll jump in front of a truck to save a kitten, right? It's aggravating how accurate he is, honestly.

The screams start up again, and you forgive Suguru.

ⴵ

It takes a few cycles to finally reach the day Amanai Riko is assassinated. Whenever you deem yourself too early, you often accompany Gojo on a mission and exorcise a special-grade curse. Your overall plan is working, bit by bit. Each time you return, Suguru's memories swarm you. Each curse he remembers as less painful.

It's why you get worried when you get there a little too late.

"Something wrong?" Riko asks.

You've stopped in the middle of the hallway, and of course, they're looking at you strangely. You know this place. Tengen's barrier is just an elevator ride away. Suguru, Riko, and Miss Kuroi were all almost there.

Fushiguro Toji has already arrived.

In the first timeline, Geto leads the girls all the way down to Tengen's barrier. He puts his trust in Gojo. Of course, he would. They're the strongest. And in the end, Gojo does kill Toji.

But the kill comes too late. Riko still dies, and the fracturing happens.

You thought you'd have more time. If you had arrived a bit earlier, you could have fought with Gojo, and the chances of defeating Toji would have significantly increased.

What do you do?

"What's the matter?" Miss Kuroi asks. She's supposed to die today, too.

"Sorry, ladies." You smile. "But I need to go back for him."

You don't answer their calls, running back up the hallway. The sun's bright, shimmering beautifully in the sky.

It contradicts the blood dripping all over the stone floor.

Gojo's lifeless body is draped across the rubble. It's a horrifying sight. Eyes that were once like the sky are just this empty blue. A dead sea. He isn't breathing. You know, if you touched his wrist, you wouldn't feel a heartbeat.

"Hate to break it to ya', but the Gojo kid's dead." Toji's right behind you. You can feel him grinning.

You know Gojo isn't dead. At least, he won't be dead for a while, but seeing the boy who used to tease you, annoy the shit out of you, laugh at you, be so....it made you freeze. Falter.

You were wasting time.

"Sorceror killer." You say after a minute. You almost can't bring yourself to turn, to look at him. The man who kills Gojo. The man who could've killed Suguru, but chose not to. "You certainly live up to your name."

Toji's grin widens. The only man in the world with zero cursed energy. It'd be awe-inspiring if it weren't so terrifying.

It's funny. You weren't afraid of dying, not anymore. You were afraid of failing. Failing when you were so close, when victory was just a blink away.

"The flyheads." You mention to the swarms of curses all around you. "That's really smart." It gives you an idea or two.

You have Suguru's memories, but they aren't always concrete. You just have snippets. A general idea of what happened within a certain event. It makes sense. Humans can't remember everything.

But regarding the memories of Suguru and Fushiguro, everything is crystal clear. It's almost like you were there when it happened.

It also means that you know Suguru, at this current level, won't be able to defeat Fushiguro.

But Suguru doesn't need to beat the sorcerer killer; he just needs to hold him off.

Currently, Suguru's body contains 368 curses: 3 special grades, 24 grade ones, 33 grade twos, 103 grade threes, and 205 fourth grades.

You release all 368 of them.

In another timeline, these curses would look to you as something to devour. Today, these curses have a new target.

It won't stop Fushiguro. You're not dumb enough to think that. But it should give you time. Hopefully, it'll be enough time.

Your knees hurt when you collapse next to the corpse. Gojo's so beautiful, even when he's dead.

"Gojo." You shake him. Nothing happens. "You need to wake up. Gojo."

Nothing happens. You don't know what caused Gojo to become the strongest, Suguru wasn't there. For once, you are blind to the past.

"Riko needs you. Wake up. You-you need to go and save her and Miss Kuroi."

His body's so cold, and you know he's dead because when you touch his skin, you don't wake up in the present. You push against his body, and he falls limply right back to place. You're sure this sight will haunt you for the rest of your life.

"Satoru." You beg. "It's Greeny. Please, please, please wake up."

Nothing happens.

Everything happens.

The brightest blue you've ever seen. It's heavenly. A glow that warms and chills your skin. It takes a while for you to see again. When you do, Satoru is standing.

Somehow, his eyes are even brighter. You don't think you're looking at a teenage boy anymore.

You're sitting in front of God.

"Greeny." he states, voice flat. "You're late."

You manage to smile.

"Sorry."

You’ve seen Satoru fight before. He’s always calm, body relaxed as he practically floats in the air. Those fights differed from Suguru’s memories—post Satoru’s awakening. There’s always this twinge of desperation. An aftertaste of bloodlust.

But seeing it for yourself is something else entirely. Even with Suguru’s heightened senses, you still can’t follow him. He’s barely a mirage. One milisecond you can see a blue flash, the next you see nothing.

It's barely a fight. Not this time around. Fushiguro is completely unmatched. There's a flash of purple. And then, it's over.

Fushiguro is in shambles. You didn't realize he was human until he started to bleed and shatter. Parentage over labor. It's sobering, in a way.

Satoru's mouth moves. You're too far away to hear anything. They stand there for a few more seconds until Fushiguro slumps. Then, he falls.

You wonder when you got so desensitized to death.

Gojo stands there. You should let him compress, but the clock is ticking. You need to do one more thing before you can let Suguru go.

"You need to go." You say when you're close to him. He doesn't acknowledge you. "Riko's about to enter Tengen's barrier."

He looks at you right then. His eyes. They're so bright, but they're strangely lifeless. Like he can't process you, your words.

"I can see you now," he says, "it was so foggy before, but now, you're crystal clear."

Six eyes look at you. You don't think you're hiding behind Suguru's face anymore.

You clear your throat.

"Gojo." You remind him. "Riko. You need to stop her."

He blinks back into focus, rising from his high.

"Oh," he says after a moment, "right."

You stop him before he can walk any further. You hold out your hand.

"You and Suguru."

For the first time in a while, Gojo hesitates to send you back. You wait a couple seconds longer.

"Yeah," he finally says.

His skin still feels cold.

ⴵ

This death is a lot more painful than the others.

The curse that's holding you is more intelligent than its predecessors. It keeps you alive, tearing at your skin, feasting on your flesh. Blood is everywhere. You scream until it rips out your vocal cords. It's almost a mercy to just die.

You forgive Suguru.

ⴵ

Time skips a lot faster now.

You stand in 2006, four months after the death of Fushiguro Toji. It takes a second for Geto's memories to kick in. What you see makes you nearly cry in relief.

Gojo and Geto made it in time. You can still remember the tears spilling down Riko's cheeks, the smile on her face when Geto asked her if she wanted to go back. They were safe. They were home, with each other.

You did it. You actually managed to pull it off.

But you can't celebrate, not yet. From what you can gather from Suguru's memories, Geto defects after four years. You've just held off the eventual.

It's nearly the middle of December. The air feels a bit chillier. You stay on that bench where Suguru once occupied. He was finishing his lunch. Usually, he'd eat with Satoru, but Satoru wasn't on campus these days.

Right, you weren't finished with your work, yet. There was still one other issue. Suguru went on missions alone these days. Swallowing curses, letting them fester and rot in his body. It's isolating and grueling work. You might have been able to help him with the absorption, but your aide won't be enough to prevent his eventual downfall.

You'll have to deal with his natural isolation. To do that, Suguru will have to make friends with people who aren't Satoru.

Suguru does have friends, but he's the closest to Satoru. Considering Satoru is getting busier each passing day, Suguru needs to broaden his horizons a bit.

It's a good thing this school is filled with such colorful characters.

Haibara and Nanami were sitting in the back of the school. From Geto's memories, their dynamic was interesting. Haibara was definitely more outgoing than the two, but Nanami seemed to have a good head on his shoulders. They looked out for each other, in that way.

Ah, Shoko was there, too. You haven't seen her since your first day. Her hair's grown longer. It lightly brushes her shoulders now. The cigarette in her hand burns a cherry red.

Your reaction is rooted in Suguru's instinct than anything on your part. You reach out, taking the cigarette and stomping on the embers.

"You shouldn't smoke in front of kids." You tell her, hoping she didn't read too much into your action.

Shoko scoffs, but to your satisfaction, she doesn't take out another one.

"We're just one year below you." Nanami retaliates, but he looks more at ease now that the cigarette's out.

"Did you finish lunch already, Geto?" Haibara asks kindly, then he takes a closer look. "Greeny?"

You suck air through your teeth, giving Haibara a scathing look. Instead of looking exasperated, Nanami looks confused.

"What's Greeny?" Nanami asks, and Haibara weakly laughs.

"It's-uh-my new nickname for the tree that's growing over there!" He wildly points to something just behind you. "'Cuz it's so...green!"

"Of course." You note the hint of affection laced within his tone.

"When'd you get back?" Haibara recovers with eagerness.

"Recently." You grin. "Nice to see you again."

"You saw him this morning," Nanami interjects, and you shrug. When he frowns, you know you pulled off a perfect Suguru impression.

Suguru melds into the conversation perfectly. Haibara says something funny, Shoko and Suguru agree, Nanami disagrees. It's a lovely little cycle that ends when Nanami grumbles and picks himself up to go. Shoko starts to follow suit when you stop her.

"Your hair's nice." You tell her.

She hums, grabbing a strand to study it. You can see hints of dark circles beginning to form under her eyes. She looked livelier when you first met her. Curses have been popping up left and right since Fushiguro's death. Everyone is overworked, but Shoko looks like she's getting the brunt of it. She's one of the only people who can use RCT on others, and there aren't many healers on her level. All of the strongests share one thing in common it seems.

"Pretty soon, it'll be longer than yours," Shoko replies. You smile in response.

"Where are you going?" You ask.

"Dorm," she replies, "I'm behind on paperwork."

You had a feeling she always was. You gave a look of sympathy, but misery loves company.

"I have some work too," You 'remember' the piles of papers lodged on Suguru's desk, "Maybe we can do it together later. The cafe right next to campus? It'll be my treat."

She looks at Suguru. Her eyes are a pretty color.

"Sure." She shrugs. "see you then."

You feel your heart thump twice in your chest and decide that your work here is done.

Haibara stares at Shoko's disappearing back. The forehead flick comes from both you and Suguru.

"That hurt." Haibara whines.

Good, you inwardly think.

"Sorry." You tell him. He rubs his head, and you wonder if this is how kicking a puppy feels like.

Luckily for you, Haibara recovers quickly.

"You've been gone for a while." Haibara tilts his head. "What happened?"

You can't exactly control your technique, it's more like it has a mind of its own, placing you exactly where you need to be placed. Instead of answering, you sigh, leaning against the wall.

"Timeline gimmicks." You tell him tiredly. "It's hard to explain." He frowns, but he takes it as an answer.

"Do you know when Gojo's coming back?" You ask. "I think it's time for me to go back again."

In previous time travels, you and Haibara tried to see if any physical contact would be enough to send you back. No matter how many times you two high-fived, shook hands, or even held hands. Nothing worked. Only Gojo Satoru could activate your technique. It must have something to do with the amount of cursed energy another person has.

“He should be getting back later this evening.” Haibara muses. “But I’ll be happy to keep you company!”

It's nice to hear him chatter. If you'd let him, he'd go one and one. But you like hearing him talk about his sister. Apparently, she’s also a sorcerer, and his affection for her makes you smile.

"You remind me a lot of her, actually." He tells you. "Even though, y'know, you're a man." It's enough to get a laugh out of you.

“Do you have anyone in your family who can see curses?” Haibaracasks.

“No,” you answer honestly, “at least, not that I can tell. My dad never spoke of curses or strange powers when I was growing up.”

You think he would have said something; after all, you two were too close to have secrets from each other. Your father was a single man, who took to raising you himself after your mother passed away. He often said you had her laugh.

“Maybe you’re one of a kind,” Haibara suggests.

You agree with him.

Gojo finds you before you can find him. He comes up to you with a grin and a wave.

“Hey, long time.”

His sunglasses are tilted down. You can see his eyes. They’ve lost the mania he had in his fight with Fushiguro. You’re relieved at that. You still can’t shake off that strange thing he said to you.

Wordlessly, you raise your hand. Satoru frowned.

“You wanna leave so soon? You just got here.”

“I’ve been here for hours,” you tell him, “also, you aren’t very concerned that someone is using your best friend’s body as a puppet.”

“He’s been through worse,” Satoru tells you off with a wave. Some friend.

“Let’s go to the arcade,” he suggests.

“Do that with Suguru.” You tell him. “I’m not hanging out with a high schooler.”

“Right right, my bad. I keep forgetting you’re an old man, Greeny.”

“22 is not old,” you say with exasperation, “didn’t your birthday just pass? You’re just five years away. I’ll see your attitude change, then.”

He grows quiet. You feel like you messed up somewhere.

“How did you know about my birthday?”

Fuck, you keep forgetting about keeping Suguru’s memories a secret. It takes everything within you to just relax.

“Haibara told me,” you say, “blabbermouth. You know him.”

“Oh.” Gojo replies. “Huh.”

You shuffle your feet. Distantly, you wonder what shoe size Suguru wears.

“How did your mission go?”

“Horrible,” he’s instantly back to his usual self, whiny and complaint, “and the curse was so ugly too. It was oozing goo everywhere.”

You frown. “Sounds gross. But you won, right?”

He doesn’t even answer. You secretly admire his sheer confidence. You certainly weren’t that when you were at his age.

“How’s Amanai and Miss Kuroi?” You ask.

“Safe.” He tells you. “The higher-ups weren’t really happy with us after that; pretty sure all these sudden missions are punishments.” He frowns. “But they’re fine. Miss Kuroi officially adopted her, so she’s a Kuroi now, too.”

You smiled. You already knew all that, but it’s nice to hear it.

“You saved them,” he says.

You laugh, “I didn’t do a thing.” You tell him. “You and Suguru did all the heavy lifting. I just caused some property damage.”

“You did.” He replies. “I don’t know how, but things always manage to work out whenever you’re around.”

You don’t like how he phrases that, but you don’t react.

“You think so? Maybe I’m lucky.” It’s supposed to be a joke of some kind. Neither of you laugh.

“You really don’t know us in the future?” He asks.

Maybe you should’ve asked Shoko if you could have a cigarette.

“I really didn't,” you say, “Honest, I—I have no idea what’s happening. I’m just as lost as you. Hopefully, I can figure out how to control my technique, and you won’t have to see me again.”

You never stopped feeling guilty for doing this to Suguru. Controlling him. Forcing him to laugh with his friends, make decisions based on your feelings rather than his. But you’re so close. You promise yourself that once you fix everything, you’ll never cause someone this much pain again. No matter how many times they kill you.

Satoru’s fists tighten. He looks even more upset at your response.

“That’s not what I—” He cuts himself off. You wait. Satoru says nothing more.

“You’re annoying.” He tells you in the end. It’s clean and cut, but it sounds like him. More confident, less wavery. “And stupid too.”

You can’t help but smile.

“Thank you. Am I done entertaining you now? Can I go?” He grumbles, holding up his hand.

“Yeah, sure, Greeny.”

ⴵ

You forgive Suguru.

ⴵ

Something’s wrong.

You can feel it. Something’s wrong.

You look through Geto’s memories. There’s nothing. Everything’s going as it should be. Everything looks perfect. Then, why do you feel so wrong?

Currently, Suguru was finishing excorcising a curse. You absorb it, swallowing down the remnant like it’s a pile of rusted nails but even the disgusting taste isn’t enough to wash away the feeling of dread.

The walls of the hospital was empty. The auxillary managers had already cleared everyone out by the time Suguru had walked in. Maybe it was the silence that added to your stress?

You walk out. Nothing changes. One of the managers comes up to you with a clipboard.

“The curse was exorcised.” Suguru tells them. “It wasn’t first grade, it was special grade. It was still disposed of.”

He curses, scribbling something down on his clipboard.

“The wrong information again.” He hisses to himself. “If we keep doing this, someone will die. We need more people, we’re way too stretched out.”

Those words are familiar. Hold on.

“Wait, what day is it?” You ask the frazzled-looking manager.

Offhandedly, he responds. He says the date so casually, and yet his mere words feel like a bear trap, tightening on your leg.

No. You should have had more time. Why weren’t you given more time?

Nanami and Haibara have probably already been dispatched. You go through Suguru’s phone, finding Haibara’s contact. It doesn’t go through. Nanami doesn’t pick up either.

You won’t make it in time. Even using Suguru’s curses, you won’t be able to reach them until it’s too late. Suguru’s memory of that day is muddled and dark, but Haibara’s dead corpse laying on the examination table. The pieces of him that Nanami could bring back.

You wouldn’t be fast enough.

He picks up on the second ring.

“...What’s up?”

“It’s Haibara.” You spit the words out as fast as you can. “Satoru, you need to go and get him right now, he isn’t going to make it—”

“—Greeny?” The exhaustion in Gojo’s voice is gone. You can hear something rustle behind him.

“Satoru, listen to me.” You beg. “Haibara and Nanami were just dispatched on a mission, but Yu isn’t going to survive it. It wasn’t a second-grade curse; it was a first grade. Please, you have to go and save him before it kills him.”

It’s silent. It feels like hours have passed when you know it’s just three seconds.

“We’ll talk later, Greeny.” The line clicks.

You’ve lost the trust of the strongest.

ⴵ

The future has changed when you get to campus. Haibara’s status is still alive. Barely. But he’s still there. Shoko’s currently taking care of him.

Nanami remains quiet the entire time since he returned with Haibara’s battered body. The only thing you can think of to offer comfort is to pat his shoulder. He barely even registers it. It’s more for you than for him. You’re self-soothing, taking care of something else, so you don’t have to recognize your own panic.

If Haibara dies, right here, on this day, everything can change. Everything can go back to the way it was in your original timeline. Haibara, with his sunshine, smiles, and bright eyes. His death is so important, and you can’t even think of him right now.

Gojo Satoru knows you’ve been deceiving him.

This is bad. So very bad. If he starts to suspect that you know more than you let on, he might deem you enough of a threat to kill, regardless of whether or not you’re in Suguru’s body. It’s not like that hasn’t stopped him before.

Gojo Satoru is selfless. He’s selfless enough to kill his best friend, if he thinks it will save everyone.

But if Gojo kills Geto here and now, would that really be bad?

You’d lose your path to the past, but the threat to your life would be over. Even if you did die in Suguru’s body, at least the people of Tokyo will be spared the Death Parade. You’ll still get what you want. And it will be much easier than your current plan.

Nanami shuffles behind you and you instantly snap out of it. That wasn’t you. It couldn’t have been you. That same lack of apathy when Fushiguro died in front of you.

It seems like dying over and over again caused you to lose bits of your humanity.

Shoko comes out. Nanami stands up, a tall ball of nervous energy. Shoko removes her mask. Her dark circles have grown even more prominent. She’s only 17.

“He’s still alive.” Nanami sags. “But he isn’t responsive. I’ve done all that I can.”

She looks at Nanami, and then she can’t anymore.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” Nanami rasps, the most emotion you’ve ever seen from him, “don’t apologize. It was my fault. I should’ve taken better care of him.”

You swallow. It wasn’t his fault, you wish you could tell him that it was yours.

You wonder what Haibara’s younger sister looked like. A spitting image of him, perhaps. Shorter. Darker hair, bigger eyes. Their smiles would look identical. What would she look like when she’s told her brother died doing the profession he forbade her from doing?

You can’t do that to her. You can’t be the reason she loses her brother the second time.

You’re not sure if a God is even out there. How could there be? What kind of entity would do something like this to you? Still, you sit on that bench, right outside the room where Haibara’s body lay, and you pray for a God.

Gojo’s footsteps stop right in front of you.

It’s hard to get the words out. For a minute, he just stands there.

“Did you exorcise it?” You finally ask.

“Yeah.”

You lift your head up to look at him. Even in his school uniform, he’s regal to look at. Like a warrior of the sun, blessed by the moon, sent to vanquish beasts and monsters.

Now, his blood-soaked sword is pointed at you.

Make it quick. You can only think. Just make it quick.

“Not here.” You say.

Nanami was still shaking. Shoko was right beside him. So you stand, you drag yourself away from Haibara’s fading presence, and Gojo follows behind.

It shouldn’t be this pretty outside. The sun is bright, and the sky is clear. There should be rain. Enough rain to drown the Earth.

“I figured out your technique a while ago, y’know.” You don’t look at him. You can’t. “Dying. Death activates your technique. Each time you die, you’re sent back 12 years in the past.”

You grip the fabric of your uniform until your knuckles turn white. Satoru’s cruel enough to continue.

“But I never got why your soul kept possessing Suguru’s body. It always felt kinda’ random. Unless he was the one who was killing you. Over and over again.”

“Gojo. Stop.” You beg.

“That’s how your CT works. Every time you’re murdered, you go back in time so you can kill them when they’re at their most emotionally vulnerable moment. It’s a pretty powerful technique, all things considered. I might not even stand a chance against it. Assisted suicide, never expected that from you of all people.

But you never do. Each time Suguru kills you, you just come back and try to save him and everyone else your hands can reach. I can’t get why you did that.”

He steps in front of you so you can see him. The God that he is.

“Let’s cut the shit, Greeny. Tell me what future is so bad you’re willing to die over and over again to prevent it.”

The worst outcome you could have ever thought of was standing right in front of you.

Satoru was demanding to know his future.

And...you couldn’t.

You’re taking in a shaky breath. It’s not enough oxygen. The sky was close to crumbling, and you still couldn’t breathe.

“There’s nothing to know.” You try. “There’s nothing, I’m fixing it—”

“—by Suguru killing you, or is this considering killing yourself, now?”

“You don’t understand.” Your voice is cracking, so high-pitched that even Suguru’s vocal cords can’t keep up. “You don’t get it. You can’t.”

“Then help me understand.” His voice is as ragged as yours, he steps closer, you step back. “Tell me why my friend would do something like this to someone.”

It clicks right then. Satoru’s anger isn’t directed at you.

No, it’s directed at Suguru.

It’s even worse than you thought.

“He—he was better than me. He was supposed to be the best out of all of us. I wanna deny it all that I can but—but I can see the proof right here in front of me. And—And I don’t—” His voice breaks too much to continue.

You’re breaking, too. How many times have you been doing this, over and over again? All alone, with no one to support you. To comfort you.

The words are right there, threatening to bubble out. It’d be so easy to tell Satoru everything.

And maybe you would’ve, but then you looked at him.

Despite how disingenuous Satoru acted, you knew he was kind. The kindest person you’ve ever met. He’d sit there and listen, and he’d break every bone in his body to help. That’s just how he was.

Satoru was selfless, he was selfless enough to kill his best friend here and now if it meant he’d save the millions in Tokyo.

You can’t put another burden on the strongest.

You can’t do that to a kid.

“It—it isn’t him.” You manage to spit out. “He isn’t doing it on purpose. It’s not his fault.

It’s the curses. They were too much for him; they overtook his body. Suguru couldn’t control them anymore.”

He says nothing. It’s like you’ve put a spell on Gojo somehow, freezing him in place. Satoru can’t do anything but stare at the talking puppet that’s his best friend.

“He lost so many people.” You continue. “Riko, Miss Kuroi, Haibara. He couldn’t take it. It was too much. His body succumbed to the curses, and they took over Shinjuku. That’s how I keep...”

It’s okay to lie like this, you justify to yourself. Because the Suguru, you know—the one with fake smiles, beady eyes, and a broken expression—isn’t the one that Satoru knows. They’re two completely different people. Years—timelines—apart from each other. They aren’t the same.

Even then, you forgave both Sugurus a lifetime ago.

You’d get on your knees if you know that would make a difference. You’d plead and beg and cry if it would get Satoru to drop it. In the end, you can only stare at him.

“All I’m asking is that you trust me.” You whisper. “Believe that I’m making this right. Please, Satoru?”

His eyes. You can’t tell what he’s thinking. He’s gone quiet and dull. The same look he had when he fully awakened his technique. The day he became God.

But he’s not a God. God’s don’t cry.

He leans ever so closely until his head rests on your shoulder. His body shakes.

“You’ll save him, right?” He asks. Gone, is his aura of confidence and resilience. He’s nothing more than a shell. If you feel something stain Suguru’s uniform, you say nothing about it.

You smile anyway.

“I will.” You tell the truth. “I will save him.”

You think of something morbidly funny.

“I’ll die trying.”

His shoulders shake with quiet, genuine laughter, the kind that’s wet and sticks to the top of your mouth.

“That’s fucked up, Greeny.” He whispers.

You hum, reaching up to pat him on the back. It takes another minute before he gathers himself up. His eyes are shiny. Satoru blinks it away.

“Haibara will be okay.” He says with such conviction. “I’ll take care of him. I’ll take care of Suguru, too.”

He doesn’t get it, not yet. He doesn’t understand that Shoko and Satoru and Haibara and Nanami need him. He’ll get it soon, though. You managed to put Suguru on the right path.

For now, it’s all you can do.

“I know you will.”

He scoffs, right then.

“You’re really annoying, you know that? Next time, don’t piss me off like that. Just tell it to me straight.”

Rely on me. Lean on me.

“I’m sorry,” you say and you truly are, “I won’t leave you in the dark from now on. I guess I just forgot that I had a friend in 2006.”

His eyes get a little brighter. “It’s actually 2007—”

“Shut up.” He laughs and it sounds like him again.

You reach out your hand and his grin fades, the tiniest bit. He mirrors you, regardless.

This time, you hesitate.

“You should learn how to be selfish every once in a while.” You tell him. “I won’t fault you if you’re selfish. I don’t think anyone will.

He doesn’t answer that, but his touch is finally warm.

ⴵ

It hurts. It hurts so much. Blood seeps into the pavement. You can hear the curse laughing. It sounds like him.

You forgive Suguru.

ⴵ

It’s today.

You can feel it. You don’t even have to look at the date to know.

The catalyst for December 24th, 2017.

Suguru’s already dressed. You’re currently standing in front of a shotty mirror, watching your reflection.

He looks tired. His smile’s a bit muted. You notice a scar you hadn’t seen before. An unregistered special grade curse, Suguru’s memory gives.

He’s different from when you saw him a year ago, but there’s still a spark in his eye. You cling to that hope, as hard as you can.

You step out of the room. It isn’t Suguru’s. He’d rented accommodations with an older woman and her son for the mission. Their place smelled like home. It made your stomach turn.

She smiles when she sees you coming down stairs. She looks kind; she has the eyes of a mother. You’ll never understand how a person who raised children could do something like this to another.

“Mr. Geto.” She chirps. “I’m so glad you’re awake! Would you like anything to eat?”

“No, I’m fine.” Better get this done sooner than later. “I should be heading back now, anyways.”

Suguru had already absorbed the curse tormenting the village last night. You can feel the sticky aftertaste in your mouth. He should have left the village yesterday, but the people were insistent he stayed one last day as thanks, feeding him all they could.

Now, it’s obvious that it was a way to butter him up for today.

Her smile grows a bit nervous. She shuffles her feet a bit.

“If it isn't too much.” She starts. “The head of our village asked if you could look at something.” Her eyes darken into disgust.

You fight to keep your smile.

“Of course. Please, lead the way.”

It’s worse than you ever could have imagined.

You’ve seen this play out so many times in Suguru’s memories. He reminisces about this moment a lot. Because of that, you knew this scene too, like the back of your hand.

And yet, seeing two children huddled together on the floor. Nothing could prepare you for that.

The village head is saying something. The woman who Suguru roomed with is yelling at the scared kids, but you can’t hear any of that.

Their clothes were dirty and ripped. Their cheeks were hollow, and they looked like they hadn’t eaten for days. Himiko’s eye looks swollen.

The twins.

The first time you saw them, they stepped aside and let Geto kill you. There’s something oddly poetic about you being on the other side.

They tremble as they continue to look at you, flinch whenever that woman raises her voice. They must think Suguru’s here to kill them.

They’re too young to think like that. They’re too young to see the horrors of this world so soon.

It’s a mistake to look towards the end of their cell. Dirty water and dog food.

How could a human do this to them? How could a mother do this to them?

You feel red. It coarses through your blood, your veins, your soul. It feels like there’s lava right underneath your skin. Shuddering, tittering anger.

There’s more than enough fire to burn down an entire village.

‘Suguru,’ you think to your companion, your tormentor, ‘I think I’m starting to get it now.’

You reach for the bars of the cell. The twins shrink away.

“Ah! Mr. Geto, you musn’t get too close to them—”

“I’ll take them.”

“What?” The head of the village asks.

“The children.” You straighten yourself up. “I’ll take them off your hands.”

It’s pointless to do anything to these people. They’re delusional enough to think that they’re in the right. By torturing these children, they’re protecting their own. It’s fear. That’s all it ever was. Even without a curse, it’ll fester on and on until this village is nothing but abandoned homes. There’s no point to punish these people any further.

If you look at the adults a bit too long, you’re afraid of what you’d do, even without Suguru’s interference. Instead, you focus on Himiko and Nanako, looking into their wary gazes. Their hands are so tiny. You could protect them with your own.

When you got out of this backward village, you’d find them something to eat.

ⴵ

You go to Shoko first.

She looks surprised to see the twins. You can’t imagine why. Still, her voice is calm when she speaks to them, setting both of them up in the clinic room. Since you got them into the car, Nanako and Himiko seemed to calm down. Himiko even told you the name of her doll.

A little while later, Yaga comes for a visit. He’s the principal now. Usually, his voice is filled with gruff, but he’s oddly gentle when he speaks to them. Nanako cracks a shy smile.

You can’t escape the ‘we’ll talk later’ look he gives you. Inwardly, you sympathize with Suguru. But a harsh lecture is better than being branded a murderer.

He hasn’t come by, yet. With the twins aided for, you decide to go find him yourself.

Walking through campus feels a little nostalgic. The grounds of the infamous jujutsu technical college are a bright green. It’s summer again. You’ve met so many colorful characters since your time here. You’ve only seen snippets, mere seconds of their lives, and yet it feels like an entire lifetime.

He’s sitting on a bench when you finally see him, nursing a drink. He doesn’t acknowledge you. You have to roll your eyes at his childish behavior, plopping down beside him.

“Hey.” You say first.

“Heard you adopted two kids,” Satoru says, “Never thought Suguru would be a teen mom, but here we are.”

You laugh, light and breathless. The sky is so pretty today.

“I don’t think he’d have it any other way, personally.” You respond.

He reminisces on your words.

“This happened before too?” He asked.

It did. It was a lot less of a happy ending, however.

“Yeah,” you say regardless, “he took good care of them last time. He’ll do the same in this timeline too. I’m sure of it.”

And this time, he’d have help. Shoko, Satoru, his teachers. They’d all be there for him. Suguru’s memories haven’t changed yet, but you know the future you step into will be a different one.

“In any case, I’m glad I got to see jujutsu tech one last time. It’s a beautiful campus.”

“You act like you’re leaving,” Satoru says, uncaring. “You’ll just come back again next month. Or next year.”

You play with your fingers.

“I...won’t be doing that from now on.”

He pauses. Then, he looks at you.

“What?”

You can’t gauge his reaction, but he doesn’t look happy. You find this a bit hard to swallow.

“I fixed the future.” You smile at him. “I finally did it. Suguru won’t break. Himiko and Nanako won’t lose their father. You won’t lose a friend, anymore. There’s no reason for me to keep coming back. You’re all free.”

You phrased the last part as a joke, but Satoru isn’t laughing.

“Wait, you’re leaving? You’re...leaving leaving.”

You nod. “I can’t believe it either.” You still can’t believe you accomplished everything you set out to do. A task that seemed so impossible, now you’re standing on the other side of it.

It wasn’t truly over. Not really, but you were able to get Suguru through the worst of it. Now, you were sure Satoru and Shoko would take up your mantel, pushing Suguru through the finish line. Just like he’ll do to them.

Satoru’s quiet.

“You seem happy.” He notes.

“Well, I did just save everyone, I think I deserve to feel a little good about myself.”

For a moment, you want to ask if it’ll be okay to visit everyone in the future. To see how Shoko and Suguru and Satoru are doing as adults. You stop yourself. Of course, they wouldn’t want to see you. You needed to stop being so greedy.

This, was more than enough.

“Will you at least tell me your name?” Satoru asks.

“You know I can’t do that.” You tell him with a smile.

“Right right.” He laughs, it sounds hollow. “Time travel, bullshit. Makes sense.”

“I’ll miss you.” You tell him.

He straightens himself up.

“I’ll miss you too, old man.” He responds. “You were a lotta’ fun to mess with.”

For once, you aren’t offended by the old man’, comment. If anything, it feels somber.

“Can I ask for some advice?” He suddenly asks. “Y’know what they say, ask the old and wise or whatever.” Okay, now he was starting to push it.

“What is it?”

It’s his turn to shuffle with his fingers.

“What would you do if...there’s something you really want, but no matter how fast you run, you just can’t catch up to it?”

You glance at him. He looks earnest. Did something like that even exist for Satoru?

“Something I can’t catch up to?” You ponder out loud. “I guess I’d have to make a big enough ruckus to where it has no choice but to look back.”

He frowns. “That makes no sense. You’re growing senile.”

You laugh. You’ll miss this brat.

You wish you could stay more. You wish you could ask about Haibara, and Shoko, and Nanami, but the clock is ticking.

Suguru’s getting impatient.

“Bye, Satoru.” You reach out your hand.

He scrutinizes it, before clasping it within his own.

“Yeah, Greeny.”

Within a blink, you’re back again in the middle of Shinjuku. December 24th, 7:06 pm.

It’s the same as always. People bustle around you. Children’s laughter. Everything always repeats itself, but you don’t think you can ever get sick of it. You’ll savor this peace for as long as you can.

You reach into your pocket, flicking out a lighter and the first cigarette of the box. You don’t know why you always chose this one. Despite outmaneuvering time itself, perhaps it’s within human nature to follow what’s written stone.

You’ve relived this hour so many times that you can list everything that happens. Down to the exact minute. 7:08- a little girl wearing a red dress walks by. 7:09- a lady with short hair catches your eyes and smiles. 7:14-an old man and woman bicker with each other as they pass you by. 7:21- A little dog sniffs the bench you sit on. 7:34- Two schoolchildren run past you, babbling. 7:45- five construction workers grumble out their grievances. 7:58- a businessman talks loudly on the phone.

You wait. You sit on a bench and wait until 8:06.

Five seconds after 8:06. Twenty seconds after 8:06.

The clock clicks to 8:07.

You were expecting to feel something else. Celebration. Elation. You half-expected to cause a scene and jump for joy right there in the streets of Shinjuku.

None of that comes. There’s just a feeling of relief. A weight presses you down, and you slump in your seat.

It was over.

It was finally over.

How long do you stay like that? Hours? Days? When you feel like you can finally breathe again, it’s only 8:12. Time travel warped your sense of time.

You stand up, stretch, feel your bones crack and pop. In the second timeline, you wanted to get a drink to drown your misery of nearly getting killed by a curse and being alone on December 24th. It felt like a lifetime ago when being single was the worst of your problems.

Honestly, you’d stay celibate for the rest of your life if it meant you wouldn’t have to go through that ever again.

Tomorrow, you’ll decompress and devolve into hysteria over what happened.

Next week, you’ll check yourself into therapy.

Today, you decide to go home and sleep for a couple hundred years.

You must look like a zombie with the way you wobble down the street. Physically, your body is perfectly fine. You’ve suffered no bruises or cuts. Even the numerous times you’ve been killed leaves nothing on your skin.

Mentally, you’re in shambles. The indomitable human spirit within you is snuffed out.

The stairs to your flat is your last enemy that you must vanquish before you can reunite with your adoring bed. You cling onto the railing with dazed eyes. You don’t see the curse until you’re right before it.

Distantly, you wonder how often you’ve passed a curse and didn’t even realize it. It’s almost instinct to reach out with your hand, intent on absorbing it.

Nothing happens. You remember you aren’t Suguru anymore.

It’s a grotesque-looking thing. No eyes, too many hands, a gaping mouth. It turns and looks at you.

Strange. Its’ smile mirrors the one in the abandoned house.

Adrenaline. You feel it coarse through your veins, meld into your bones, explode in your skin. You’re stumbling back, nearly tripping down the steps in your haste to get away.

It screeches. Loud and clear and angry and you can almost feel its teeth chomp on your leg, ripping your muscles and skin to mere tatters.

You’ve died before. You’ve been skinned alive before. You’ve been eaten before. Yet, it all amounts to nothing compared to the fear you feel at the thought of the curse catching you.

It can’t have been nothing more than a third grade. If you were taller, larger, special-grade, you could have killed it immediately. But you weren’t, not anymore, you were at the same level as a plant. Useless. Helpless.

A dead man stumbling, tripping, running.

The streets were quiet. You supposed that meant there’d be fewer casualties. But it didn’t make you feel any better. And even if there were people around, no one would have been able to help you.

Your brain isn’t working as clearly. Fear is the only thing that guides you. You’re reduced to a rat scampering through a maze. Sooner or later, that rodent reaches a dead end.

The alleyway was blocked off. You felt the rough brick wall scrape your hands and even the feeling of your raw skin couldn’t assuage your heart pumping in your throat. When you whirled your head back, it was right there, and you knew you were dead.

Again.

It might kill you, if it’s feeling generous. It might cut your legs off and watch you bleed, if its feeling kind. It might eat you, if it’s a decent curse.

It shouldn’t be happening. You fixed it. You were supposed to have fixed everything. But clearly you didn't. There must have been some piece of the puzzle that you forgot. You need to go back. You need to fix things, but why do you need to why can't he just leave you alone—

You don’t see what happens. One moment, the curse is there. The next it isn’t.

“Those things are so annoying.” The newcomer complains.

No, not new. You know him.

You blink. He grins. It’s kind. A toothy smile that warms.

“You alright?” He asks in sympathy. “Curses are pretty scary, aren’t they? Are you hurt?”

It’s him. You weren’t in 2006. You were in the present, here and now, and he was here with you.

He actually made it.

“Ma’am?” He asks.

It wasn’t intentional. You just blurted it out, the promise you made to him. It was a decade for him. Mere hours for you.

“Um, broccoli head...?” And then you instantly regret it.

Haibara Yu takes a minute, eyes squinting like you just grew a new head.

Then, he gasps.

“Greeny?”

ⴵ

A few minutes later, you’re seated at a restaurant. Haibara has not shut up.

“—I—I can’t believe it? It’s actually you! I thought I’d never see you again ‘cuz Gojo said you weren’t gonna be around anymore, and—and then suddenly you pop up outta’ nowhere—not that I’m complaining— but—”

“—Haibara.” You interrupt. “Please, slow down.”

He stops himself, right when the server comes with drinks. He shoots the waiter a smile, and then he’s back on you.

“Sorry.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I—I got a little excited. And nervous. It’s just...well, I didn’t expect you to be a girl.”

That might have been your fault. Both Haibara and Gojo kept referring to you as a man, so you decided to roll with it. Earlier, you would have justified it by insisting the less they know about you, the better. Now, you just think you were being petty.

“So, how you’ve been? A whole decade...” You murmur to yourself.

“Fine! But what about you?” Haibara asks, concern etched into his eyes. “Where’d you go?”

Wow, he was actually worried for you. Despite being in Suguru’s body, you didn’t really feel like part of the group Shoko, Gojo, Nanami, and Haibara were part of. You felt like an outsider, being somewhere you didn’t belong. It's because you were an outsider. Nevertheless, it’s nice to know one person missed you.

“This might be a little hard to believe, but I just came back to 2017 two hours ago.”

Haibara gapes.

“Wait, so to you, that whole thing happened, today?” You nod. He leans back in his chair.

“Holy fuck.” You laugh at his awe.

“Thanks for saving me, by the way.” You change the topic. “From the curse.”

He waves it off. “I was just paying my debt. From what you did for me all those years ago.”

Ah, Gojo must have told him. Oddly enough, Haibara doesn't seem all that perturbed that he shouldn’t exist currently. At the same time, it feels just like Haibara.

He’s different from when he was younger. Taller. The baby fat is gone. His face is more built, just like the rest of his body. His eyes are less round, but they haven’t lost the spark. A few scars here and there, but he’s all in one piece.

You weren’t able to see what he looked like as an adult from Suguru’s memories, he’d never grown up. But now, you can see it for yourself. You can see the active change you made in his life, to his life.

“Haibara—”

“Yu—” He says seriously. “My friends call me Yu.”

A smile twitches on your lips.

“Tell me about everyone.” You scoot your chair closer. “You, Suguru. How is everyone doing?”

He perks up at that, clearly delighted to be talking.

“Great! Everyone’s doing great! You should totally come visit the school, sometime. They’d love to see you. Uh, even if they don’t technically know you, but I’m sure they’ll love to meet you!” He rambles, and it’s nice to know he hasn’t changed from his younger self.

“Let’s see, Kento’s teaching the first years. I teach the second years—”

“—You’re a teacher?”

He nods. “We all are! Except for Shoko, but she has her own thing going on. Anyway, Mimiko and Nanako have become second-grade semi-sorcerors. Isn’t that incredible? I’m just a first grade semi-sorceror, and at their young ages too! But Suguru wasn’t surprised, he kept saying his girls were prodigies. Oh! You probably want to know about Suguru too, right?”

You nod. Even if you hadn’t done anything, you don’t think that would have stopped his enthusiasm.

“He’s a teacher too! At least, for right now. Yaga’s been wanting to retire, and there have been talks of Suguru becoming the next principal. Principal Geto has a ring to it, right? Oh, and Shoko is currently planning the wedding. You’ll definitely be invited, of course! She said I could bring a plus-one. Oh, and—”

It goes on like that for hours, you think. Not that you mind. You listen to Yu babble on and on about his friends, his students. He talks about Nanami’s recent baking addiction, Shoko’s new office cat, Suguru’s favorite tea pot. It’s a never-ending surge of information.

Eventually, you catch on to the fact that he’s deliberately leaving someone out.

"Yu?" You interrupt him while he's talking about the prank the fourth year pulled on Nanami. "What about Satoru? What's he up to?"

Maybe you were overthinking things. Haibara likes to talk; perhaps he forgot to exclude someone else's story in his rants. But then, he grimaces. For the first time in this entire conversation, Haibara is reluctant to talk.

"Satoru is..." He winces, and your hands turn into fists.

No. No. You were supposed to save everyone. Why hadn't you saved everyone?

A warm hand grips your own. You'd been shaking.

Yu gives a soft smile, and you remember he's no longer younger than you.

"He's not dead." He assures you, but his smile fades. He straightens himself up, and his hand pulls away.

"Satoru defected from Jujutsu tech. We don't know where he is."

What? You must have misheard him wrong. Satoru wouldn't do that. That's not like him. This is some sick joke.

But there's no teasing grin on Haibara. His face is grave. You hate it more than anything.

"It happened when he was a fourth year. No one really knows what happened. Suguru refuses to say anything about it, but I think he's just as confused as the rest of us. It came outta nowhere."

Yeah, it definitely came out of nowhere. It's so random. Why would Satoru do that? The last time you saw him, he was so happy. He was smiling; he teased you. What happened? It made no sense.

"So, you haven't seen him for nine years?" You ask. "Not even a glimpse?"

Yu shakes his head. "Nothing but his residuals. That's how we know he's still alive."

Nothing computes in your brain. None of it made any sense. You saved Suguru. That was supposed to make everyone happy, including Satoru. Why would he turn around and do this? Defecting made no sense.

"We've actually been tasked to execute him. Since he’s been branded a curse user, all four of us. " Yu laughs with no humor. "Isn't that insane? I don't think any one of us could even fathom doing that, even if it were possible."

It wasn't possible. Gojo was the strongest. Nothing could go toe to toe with him. Once he put his mind to something, no one could stop him.

But maybe you could.

You're shutting that idea down immediately. You were done. You were done with dying and time-travel and strange powers. You wanted it all to be over. It'd be so easy to thank Haibara for the nice meal, to go home and sleep this entire day off. Satoru dug his own grave, he can go lay in it. You weren't responsible for someone else's actions. You wouldn’t. You can’t do that another time.

You're the kind of person who'll jump in front of a truck to save a kitten, right?

You hate that brat so much.

You close your eyes. Take in a breath. Then, you open them.

"Haibara?" You ask. "Did Gojo tell you how my technique worked?"

He shakes his head. You grimace because convincing him might take a while.

"Okay, well, I'll need you to do a tiny favor for me."

ⴵ

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Oh, you're back already?" Satoru says casually, turning back to gaze at you. "I just left today. How did you convince Haibara to snap your neck? That guy cries after killing a mosquito.”

You’d caught him just as he was leaving campus. Yu’s body was less athletic than Suguru’s. Your breath was slightly ragged, pulled down by minor exhaustion.

It doesn’t weigh down your frustration for Gojo Satoru. The biggest pain in your ass you’ve ever met.

“Shut up.” You snap. “Just answer the question.”

“We haven’t seen each other for a year and that’s how you react?” Satoru ignores you. “That’s mean, Greeny. How ‘bout we discuss my treason over steak. Haibara can pay.”

“Satoru.” You beg, “Why are you doing this? What’s the point? Why is everyone happy with their life except for you?”

That seems to get him. His posture stiffens ever so slightly. You can see him work his jaw. He finally drops his act.

“You didn’t have to come back, y’know.” He murmurs quietly. “You could’ve just stayed in the future. Like you said, Greeny, everyone’s happy with their life. 4 outta’ five. That’s a passing grade.”

For once, you wish you could possess him. You wished you could open his brain and peer into his memories until he finally made sense.

“I could never leave you behind like that.” You say the truth just as quietly. “I’ll die a thousand more deaths than do that.”

He smiles. It looks genuine as it looks painful.

“Yeah, I know. I know you, Greeny. Always gotta’ play hero.” He gives a bitter laugh. “That’s why I defected.”

You stare at him. He’s a fourth-year now, even taller than before. You aren’t equal to him anymore in this body, now you’re starting to think you never were.

“Satoru.” You start because what he’s saying can’t be the truth. Your heart broke and broke. “Did—did you leave—did you leave everyone for a decade just so I’d come back? Why would you do that to yourself?”

He doesn’t say anything. Then, he steps forward, just a bit.

“It’s your fault,” Satoru says like it’s instinct to blame you for his actions, “this was your idea.”

What’s he talking about? And then memories of the two of you sitting on that bench just outside of campus.

What would you do if...there’s something you really want, but no matter how fast you run, you just can’t catch up to it? So that’s what he meant. You were an idiot.

“That’s not fair, Satoru,” you say regardless, “I—I never—I couldn’t expect you’d do this.”

“What choice did I fucking have, Greeny?” There’s rapid steps and he’s in front of you, desperate and wild. “You—you just left me here. You left me alone and I couldn’t even look for you because I know nothing about you. Your face, your eyes, your hair, not even your fucking name! How’s that fair?”

It’s true. It’s all true. As much as you tried to claim you tried to make everyone happy, you only focused on Suguru. And Suguru’s happiness enlisted space from the strongest. In a different timeline, things would be different between them. A button he never left behind. Words Satoru never said. That timeline held too much pain and suffering, so you scrubbed it from history. In this rendition, everything was changed. Suguru had Shoko. Yu had Kento. Who did Satoru have?

You saved Suguru in this timeline. But to save him, you neglected Satoru.

Satoru must have known. He must have known you intentionally distanced Suguru from him, but he allowed it anyway. Satoru’s selfless like that. Too giving. Too Godlike.

But he’s selfish too. Purposefully demeaning himself so he could get one more glimpse of you, uncaring if you went through hell for his sake. Too taking. Too human.

Once, you told him that if he was selfish, just once, you wouldn’t fault him. What a liar you are.

You forgive Satoru.

“I’m sorry.” Haibara’s voice is like your own. You step closer. His infinity lets you in. “I’m sorry Satoru. I didn’t mean to leave you alone.”

It’s hard to wrap him in a hug. The brat’s too big. He sinks into your touch like a tiger, filled with dangerous claws, retracted just for your sake. He shakes the tiniest bit; even now, he’s keeping himself as a pinnacle. If you hear a sniffle or two, you don’t comment on it.

It’s why your heart breaks to tell him the truth.

“I can’t give you my name.” You whisper in his ear. He pulls back. He doesn’t look at you.

“Yeah, I know. I know. time-travel bullshit—”

“For now.” You add. “I can’t do that for now.”

Three pairs of eyes look at you. You’re not hiding behind Haibara anymore. You’re not trying to.

“December 24th, 2017. 8:06. Tokyo Skytree.” You look at him. “Can you wait until then?”

For you, it’d only be an hour. For Satoru, it’d be a decade.

You expect him to reject it, to yell at you. You decide if he wants to be selfish; you’d let him.

“If you don’t show up, I’ll turn evil.” You laugh. His grin widens and he’s back again. “I’m serious. I’ll take over the world. I’ll throw the biggest temper tantrum ever.”

“You’re such a brat.” There’s no hostility in your tone. “I will. I promise.”

‘I’ll save you,’ You promise in your head because he’s too prideful to hear it.

“Is it still possible for you to go back?” You ask, the wariness present again. “The higher ups haven’t taken any action against you, right?”

He shakes his head.

“I think Yaga might yell at me, but other than that.” He shrugs. “They’ll decide it’s teen rebellion and sweep it under the rug.”

You laugh again. Satoru shoots you a toothy grin.

When you reach out a hand, Satoru mirrors you. He clasps your hand in his. For once, you wonder how they’ll feel on your own.

“See ya’ later, Greeny.”

A blink. Satoru’s gone. Your hand is empty, and you’re standing in the streets of Shinjuku once again.

ⴵ

December 24th, 2017. 8:06, at the top of the Tokyo Skytree.

Why did you decide on that date and time for all the places? You were so fucking stupid. You needed to stop being so poetic.

It’s already 7:12 when you’re desperately waving down a taxi. The driver looks disinterested when you blubber out the location. When he tells you it’ll cost extra because Sumida City isn’t part of his route, you’re more than happy to fork over the money.

It’s already 7:35 when you stumble through the interiors of Tokyo Skytree town. It’s crowded. Fuck, it’s December 24th, of course people would be out and about.

At 7:44, you finally reach the observational building. And then you hit upon a snag.

It’s closed.

Renovations, the sign reads, accompanied by an irritatingly cute drawing of a cat, please come visit us next week.

Would this excuse be enough to satisfy Satoru? You’re only human. Surely he’d understand if you couldn’t make it because the entire building was shut down.

Or wait. Was this Satoru’s doing?

You look up at the tower. Lights were still on and flickering. No crowds. No people. No prying eyes.

Let it be known that you’ve never trespassed before, until you met Gojo Satoru.

With a guilty conscious, you step over the line. You justify it by convincing yourself you were saving the world because you know Satoru wasn’t joking a decade ago.

The elevators still worked. Thank God. Yet another hint he’s paving the way for you. You made the location, but it feels like you’re a mouse stuck in a human-designed maze. Even though you set up the game, he’s still managed to rig it.

You land on the first deck at 7:52. At 7:56, you reach the second observational deck.

It’s empty. You’ve never seen the skytree so empty before. Not a single soul is here except for you. Your footsteps echo across the floor. Were you early?

Out the corner of your eye, there’s a post-it note stuck on the window. A hand-drawn arrow. Up ahead, there’s another one.

You follow the next, and then the next. All the time you don’t know how to feel about him doing all of this just for an encounter. Something bubbles in your stomach. You’re pushing it down.

You follow the post-its until there’s one placed right on top of a door.

Authorized personnel only. Why does this brat continue to test you?

But it’s already 8:03; you’re far too deep to complain.

A service elevator greets you. If you press the button, it’ll take you all the way up to the broadcast equipment, the top of the Tokyo Skytree.

It’s different from the past two elevator rides. The service elevator isn’t all that polished. The wheels squeak a little too dangerously at times. It’s slower, too.

That’s bad, because now you’re starting to think.

That familiar feeling boils within your stomach, again. You’re anxious. It’s strange to say, but meeting Satoru through Suguru, meeting Satoru through Yu, it felt like you had a protective shell around yourself. You were free from his judgement, only invoking curiosity.

If you show yourself to him, how would he react? What would he say? Would he get angry that you made him wait a decade for such a blunder? Even worse, what if he doesn’t get angry?

What if—what if he’s disappointed by you?

Cold feet. It freezes your toes. You want to go back. You want the elevator to go back down, you want to go home and hide away.

But you promised Satoru. He deserves answers.

Pathetic answers are better than no answers at all.

Instead of your soul being protected by a sorcerer's body, it’s protected by your own. You’d steel yourself for whatever comes next. You could melt after.

It’s windy up here. That’s the first thing you notice. Icy wind cuts at your face and your eyes squint so they don’t dry out so quickly. It’s colder, too; your jacket is nice protection, but nothing helps your vulnerable hands.

But the view. Oh, what a view.

The sea of twinkling lights shines from the city. The sun has set, leaving Tokyo to do nothing but shine. She’s gorgeous like she’s picked the stars from the sky, burying them within her own soul. You could stay there forever, if she let you.

It’s 8:09. Satoru was late.

Or maybe he just wasn’t planning to show up.

You lean away from the railing. It’s just like him to make huge gestures and at the last moment, ditch everything. The balloon in your lungs deflates ever so slightly.

And then, you can feel hands.

Around your shoulders, caging you in. Large and warm despite the icy air. You know these hands. They’re familiar, even a decade later. His chest presses up against your back. His face settles in the crook of your neck.

His laugh tickles your ear, and you aren’t so cold anymore.

“Caught ya, Greeny.”

(“Did something happen to you, back there in the house?”

"Hm?" Suguru asked.

They were wading through long grass and overgrown weeds. Satoru glances at his friend. Suguru looks fine. His cursed energy has gone back to normal. That's probably good.

"You were just acting weird," Satoru said, "I mean you fell on your ass in front of a curse. Embarrassing."

Suguru huffed, a red hue across his cheeks. "Shut up, don't remind me."

'So he remembered,' Satoru thinks, 'didn't expect that.'

They're almost to the car when Suguru speaks again.

"Actually, I did feel a little strange," he says, "I felt like I wasn't really all there. There was this voice, guiding me along."

"Really?" Satoru shivers. "That sounds creepy."

So the entity within Suguru was a bad thing after all. He should try to get rid of it if it ever comes back. It might take a complex spell or something-

"Not really." Suguru said. "It's hard to explain, but it felt....nice."

"Nice?" Satoru echoes.

"Yeah."

And then it's quiet again.)

Part two: Rewound Infinitely

#yandere #yandere jjk #yandere gojo satoru #x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #time travel fix it #a crumbling storyline #platonic haibara x reader #dark content #f!reader #implied romance #tw:blood/violence #tw: child abuse #unrequited feelings #ambiguous ending #BUT its a positive one

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a-kind-of-merry-war · 6 months

Text

What do you do when you hear your best friend's hand in marriage is the grand prize in a tournament? You steal your brother's armour, cut off all your hair, and enter in disguise to rescue her. Obviously.

All The Painted Stars is a sapphic, medieval romance novel with...

⭐ Knight's Tale Vibes ⭐ Women in armour ⭐ Skinny dipping ⭐ Ruining arranged marriages ⭐ The pain of being in love with your best friend

It's OUT NOW in the UK wherever books are sold in paperback, ebook and audiobook!

Out Nov 5th in the US!

Bookshop.org / Waterstones / Blackwells / Amazon / Kobo

Full blurb & content warnings under the cut.

Oxfordshire 1362

When Lily Barden discovers her best friend Johanna’s hand in marriage is being awarded as the main prize at a tournament, she is determined to stop it. Disguised as a knight, she infiltrates the contest, preparing to fight for Jo’s hand. But her conduct ruffles feathers, and when a dangerous incident escalates out of Lily’s control, Jo must help her escape.

Finding safety with a local brewster, Lily and Jo soon settle into their new freedom, and amongst blackberry bushes and lakeside walks an unexpected relationship blossoms. But when Jo’s past catches up with her and Lily’s reckless behaviour threatens their newfound happiness, both women realise that love must always come at a cost.

Content warnings:

ATPS contains mention of past emotional and physical abuse, and some mild violence.

It also contains explicit on-page sex scenes.

#all the painted stars #queer books #books #writeblr #lgbt #lesbian #sapphic #romance books #reading

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cameronluvr · 4 months

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BABY TRAPPED — dark!rafe x fem reader

summary: rafe purposely gets you pregnant against your own will after you choose the pogues instead of him.

warnings: 18+ !!, DUBCON, forced pregnancy, toxic relationship, abusive relationship, dark!rafe, arguing, fighting, choking, SMUT, fingering, slapping, unprotected sex (p in v) forced sex, jealous!rafe, kinda stalker!rafe, kidnapping(?), creampie, teen pregnancy. (lmk if anymore!)

: ̗̀➛ 𝓶𝔂 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ PART 2

you had been at john b’s chateau for most of the day hanging out with your friends, but you’d promised your parents you’d be home before midnight. looking at the time on your phone, you noticed it was 11:13 pm.

you’d been drinking a little bit, and so had your friends, so driving home wasn’t an option. “guys, i’m gonna need to leave soon” you say over the mild volume of music playing.

“why?” kiara asks. “my parents told me i had to be home before 12. they’re kinda worried about me because of the whole.. you know.. rafe thing” you reply.

over the past few weeks you’d been going through a rough breakup with rafe. you couldn’t handle him anymore. his anger, his jealousy, his everything. he was no good for you anymore, and with the whole rafe vs pogues situation, you had to pick a side. your boyfriend or your best friends.

you had to pick your friends. there was no other choice, no other way out. rafe had tormented your friends for months. he pulled his gun on them, he beat them up, he attempted to kill kiara and his own sister sarah. and he almost killed you.

you’d lost track of how many fights you had with him, how many times he hit you and you hit him back. the screaming wars you’d have always ended up with him choking you or slapping you, and ward having to physically pull him away from you.

you just couldn’t put up with him anymore. he was manipulative, toxic, and most of all abusive. your friends knew about all of this, and tried so hard to get you away from him, but you couldn’t escape from him. he’d always convince you otherwise, guilt trip you, lie to you, twist your words…

“ya’ want me to walk you home?” jj asks, sitting beside you, smoking his blunt. you think about it for a second, but decline his offer. “thanks, but i’m okay, really. i’ll be fine” you nod and smile. “you sure?” sarah asks from across the room as they all practically look at you as if you were crazy. rafe was crazy, and if he saw you alone, only god knows what he would do…

“yeah, i’m good. i think i need to be alone anyway. take a nice walk by myself” you shrug. you hadn’t really had much alone time in months, considering you had a boyfriend glued to your hip out of distrust.

“okay, well, please call us if you need us, m’kay?” sarah says, walking over to you to hug you. she’s worried for you the most, you’re her best friend and her own brother is ruining your life. “i will, promise” you smile, standing up to hug her tightly.

“love you, y/n” kiara says with a smile as you walk out the door, saying bye to them all. you blow a kiss to kie before shutting the door behind you. they all know you’re going through a tough time, so they’re trying their best to be there for you and look out for you. they all love you.

walking home now, you stroll down the dark, long road ahead, with nothing surrounding you but tall trees and dim streetlights. no people, no lit-up houses, just dark and quiet streets with people in bed.

you walk for ten more minutes before you hear a car approaching from behind you. you give it no thought though, not wanting to worry yourself. the car gets closer, as if it were going to drive straight past you, but suddenly, you hear the car slowing down and eventually stopping right next to you. you don’t want to look, but you have to.

your heart sank into your chest when you noticed rafe’s black range rover, right as the window rolled down. it was rafe. “y/n get in.” his tone demanding and angry. “no, leave me alone.” you quickly turn around, power walking away. however, he only follows you. he slowly drives, following you, speeding up and slowing down whenever you do.

“y/n just get in i wanna talk” he says out the window, resting his arm on it as he watches you, attempting to talk to you. “rafe, leave me the fuck alone.” your voice gets louder, but you’re not yelling, yet. “save yourself the hassle and get in for fuck’s sake” he says, getting more frustrated by the second.

“no” you say, not looking in his direction at all. “oh my god” he says, sighing before putting the car in park and getting out. “no, go away!” you say, attempting to run but he grabs you before you can. you thrash around in his arms before he picks you up and drags you to his car.

“put me down!” you yell at him, trying to fight him but he is much stronger than you are. he opens the passenger door, shoving you inside before quickly getting in the drivers seat and locking the doors.

“what the fuck are you d—” you scream at him before his hand roughly covers your mouth, shutting you up. “i just wanted to talk, but you always have to make it hard, don’t you?” he says, eventually letting go of your mouth and seeing a mark left over from how tight his grip was.

“i don’t want to fucking talk! you yell as he rolls the windows all the way up so nobody can hear you fussing. “i don’t care. who the fuck do you think you are?” he yells at you, making you flinch. “what?” your eyebrows furrow.

“choosing those fucking trash pogues over me. are you serious? dumping me for them?” he argues. you’ve had this argument with him plenty of times, he seems to not be able to let it go. or let you go. “rafe. i didn’t want to be your girlfriend anymore, okay? you’re abusive, you’re mean, you’re—” you say, only to be cut off by his laughter. “abusive? for wanting to protect you? for wanting the best for you? right” he squints his eyes. “wanting the best for me? are you serious? you’ve done nothing but hurt me, and hurt my friends, including your own sister, by the way!” you argue, but he scoffs and tuts, as if they were nothing.

“because i told you so many fucking times to stay away from them, didn’t i?” he screams in your face, watching as you flinch with fear. “yeah, you did, but they are my friends, rafe, sarah is my best friend and you tried to kill her? she’s your fucking sister you should love her more than you love me” you say, voice getting higher out of frustration for him. how can he be so naive and cruel?

“her? she’s no sister of mine. that bitch has always been against me” he scoffs, speaking so lowly of his own little sister. “no she hasn’t, rafe!” you try to tell him, but every word that comes out of your mouth is a lie according to his delusions.

“right, whatever.” he rolls his eyes at you and your ‘lies’, but he just doesn’t want to accept the truth. he’s the problem, he turned everyone against himself. “i love you, yeah? i never stopped” he suddenly says, looking at you.

“well i have.” you say, but hearing those words were gut wrenching to him. you crossed the line. he unexpectedly and quickly reaches over, grabbing you by the throat and squeezing his fingers.

“i never wanna hurt you, y/n. you make me do it. i want to love you, but when you’re running off with your little friends behind my back, you make it hard to trust you, yeah?” he explains in his usual manipulative tone.

“rafe…” you force out, feeling as his grip tightens, his nails basically digging into your skin. “can you let me love you like i want to? like i’ve been trying to?” he asks, watching as your face turns redder and redder.

he loves watching you struggle, it was his favorite part of having power over you. it’s like it turns him on to hurt you. “please.. stop…” you struggle to say as he just keeps begging for your love.

“y/n, let me show you how much i really love you. please?” he asks softly, looking at you with adoration as if his own hand isn’t almost causing you to lose consciousness. he was psychotic. “ok.. ok.. yeah.. just let me go” you choke, nodding your head as fast as you can. you didn’t want to agree, but you had to otherwise he wasn’t going to stop.

and who knows what he would’ve done if you had passed out? you’d dread to think. “yeah? atta’ girl. i knew you’d come to terms with me sooner or later” he says, smiling as if he didn’t force the right answer out of you. he lets go of your throat, loving the sound of you gasping for air and regaining your breath.

you wanted to hit him so bad, you wanted to insult him and call him names but most importantly, you didn’t want him to actually kill you. “let’s go somewhere private, hm?” he suggests, like you could say no. you stay silent in his passenger seat, nodding at everything he’s saying, submitting to your fear of him.

he puts the car into gear and begins driving off. he drives five minutes down the road before turning down an off road path which lead to the lake, but he stopped in the secluded path surrounded by more trees, and more darkness.

turning his engine off, he turns to face you. “do you love me?” he asks. you’re terrified to answer. you’d be lying if you said yes, but if you said no, you’d find out. “…yes” you gulp, fearing him deeply. “good girl” he smirks, smelling your fear like a dog could.

he loves it. he loves you being afraid to say something he doesn’t want to hear, that’s the first step to being the perfect girlfriend in his eyes, you always know the right answer.

he turns in his seat to face you, reaching his hand over to your thigh. he rubs it, trailing his hand up and closer to your pussy, but you shift your legs the other way to move his hand away, making him grab your thigh and moving it back to where it was.

“don’t act like you don’t want it. you just said you love me” he leans over, darkly whispering in your ear which sent shivers down your spine. “i.. i do” you lie, not wanting to send him over the edge. he smirks at your words, leaning his head down to your neck to kiss it. you don’t want his touch, but you need it.

“rafe…” you whisper, trying your best not to want it but it’s difficult when he’s kissing your neck and moving his hand up your thigh again, only this time you don’t move your legs when he gets close to your pussy. you’re wearing jeans, so you feel his hand unbuttoning them which made you nervous, but you let it happen anyway.

“what baby?” he whispers, lifting his head from your neck to look at you. “i—” you say, cut off by the feeling of his cold hand slipping into your jeans. you jump at the temperature of his skin, which made him laugh. “come on, just take it” he licks his lips, looking at yours before kissing them. you kiss him back, and eventually start making out with him.

mid kiss, his hand slips into your panties, making you hum a moan. “you like that?” he asks, rubbing circles on your clit before breaking the kiss. “mhm” you hum, but his other hand reaches behind your head and grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back. “use your words, princess” he tells you, his dark eyes staring into yours. “…yes.” you hesitate to say, but you go along with it for your own safety and his sanity.

“hmm.. good” he smirks, letting go of your hair and kissing you again before his hand slid down your pussy, to your hole. you gasp at his sudden movement, but he chuckles at you. “you’re so wet. i’m always turning you on, huh?” he says, opening his mouth and mocking your gasp.

you chuckle too, wanting him to know you’re on the same page. after seconds of his fingers teasing your hole, he slides two of them into you. you gasp, moaning as his fingers fill you up to his knuckles. “so deep..” you moan, tensing up in your seat at his touch.

but it wasn’t long before he had you stripped off and sitting on his lap with the seat pushed all the way back. “fuck” he moans at the sight of your pretty tits, his hands grabbing your ass cheeks.

“if we do this… will you leave me alone after?” you ask, terrified to say but it needed to be said. “yeah, of course, i promise” he says like it’s nothing, like he didn’t even hear those words come out of your mouth. you were expecting a different reaction, but he had a different plan.

you felt like you had to have sex with him one last time for him to be able to move on from you. or so you thought that’s how it would be. “i love you, but if i need to leave for you to be happy, then i will” he says, almost believably.

but that was a lie.

pulling his boxers off allowed his hard dick to spring out, hitting your leg. you both giggle before starting to make out again, where his hands slid from your ass cheeks to your hips, his fingers twirling the sides of your panties before pulling them down and off your feet.

“ride me, princess” he says, both of your warm areas touching. you nod, lifting yourself up and positioning yourself above his cock before his hands roughly gripped your waist, pulling you to sit down on it.

you let out a loud moan of pain and pleasure. “fuuuck” he drags, closing his eyes as he pulled you up and down, choosing the speed and roughness for you. your moans cried out, you didn’t know if it hurt or felt good more.

“i missed you so much. i missed this pussy” he tells you, his hands roaming your naked back as his dick harshly thrusts up into you. “i missed you” you say, knowing you didn’t mean a single word. your horniness and desire to please him took over.

“you’re mine, baby” he tells you, his fingernails digging into your hips, making you cry out. he was so good at pleasing your pussy that you ruled out the pain he caused. “…always” you say, starting to question whether or not he was being honest about leaving you alone.

his pace is rough, he’s fucking you so harshly that you don’t think he’s ever gone this hard on you before. it hurts, but it hurts so good. “ow.. fuck.. rafe” you moan loudly like a porn star. “that’s it, baby” he says, feeling closer and closer to coming each time he thrust up into you.

your legs start to burn and ache, and he can tell by how much your legs are shaking. so he pulls you off of him, and guides you into the back seats where he climbs over after you.

he lays you down on your back, spreading your bodies over the three seats. he positions his cock near your pussy again, before sliding in with no warning. you moan, wrapping your arms around his back and gripping his shoulders. “fuckkk” he moans in your ear, making you much wetter. no matter how much you hate rafe cameron, his moans were your weakness.

the rougher and meaner he got, the more aroused he was. it wasn’t long before he started choking you, and slapping you around. it’s what he does during sex. he loves the power, he loves the dominance he has over you. you allowed it, though, because this was the last time. right?..

minutes later, you you felt him speeding up and becoming more tense, which meant he was gonna finish any second now. you, however, weren’t even close to finishing. it did feel good, but it didn’t change your feelings for him. you can’t come over somebody you hate so much.

“fuck baby.. ‘m gonna cum…” he says, twitching his dick as he empties his load into you. you moan at the feeling of his warm cum filling you up and leaking out after. he slowly pulls out, smirking knowing he’s hiding a huge secret from you.

he snuck into your house a few days ago while you were out with the pogues, and swapped your birth control pills for fake ones. but you had no idea…

it wasn’t until two weeks later when you were throwing up in your toilet, and crying your eyes out when you realized you’d missed your period. “fuck” you say, grabbing an emergency pregnancy test from the cabinet above the sink. you had them hidden in there just in case.

you take the pregnancy test, pacing around your bathroom for five minutes straight, waiting for the results. boom. the alarm you’d set on your phone goes off, five minutes is up. you switch the alarm off and gulp, slowly reaching for the pregnancy test. you pick it up, and gasp when you read the answer.

POSITIVE.

what the fuck are you supposed to do now?…

NOT PROOFREAD. probably some mistakes, but my FIRST smut writing?!?!😩😩 plssssss lmk what y’all think! <333

@cameronluvr

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe #toxic!rafe cameron #toxic!rafe #rafe cameron smut #rafe x reader smut #jealous!rafe #mean!rafe

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mariespen · 7 months

Text

Pretty Girl ˚. ୭୧ .˚

daddy issues!reader x rafe cameron .˚ summary: "His girl, only his, sobbing in his arms." warnings: major daddy issues!, very mild mentions of verbal/physical abuse, shared trauma

based on this request!

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The bright ping on your phone shone throughout the dark bedroom like a discreet warning.

You got up to check it, a small and exhausted smile on your face.

Rafe recognized the way your eyes saddened, slowly becoming more droopy and cursing your cheeks as if they were pulling you down with them. He looked at your face like it was a mirror. He watched you try to block every thought out of your head, try to put the phone down and run back into the warm arms of your boyfriend.

“Hey..” Rafe whispered, his voice deep and scratchy from the morning sun.

You let out the smallest sniffle, wiping your eyes and hesitantly putting your phone back down. You turned to him, looking at him like the world was weighing down on your shoulders.

The eye contact made Rafe’s eyes glossy with the reminder that the two of you really weren’t all that different. He couldn’t stand the idea that another man was hurting his little girl.

You let yourself collapse into his arms, feeling them wrap around you and rest on your tense body. He sighed, burying his face into your messy hair and pressing you further into him.

Rafe didn’t need telepathy to know what that text said, he didn’t need anything but his own personal experience, but he wanted to see it word for word. He held you closer, keeping his grip tight as a weak attempt to distract you from his arm reaching over to take your phone from the night stand. He felt lucky when you didn’t stir, just clung onto him in understanding.

He started to open your phone to gain an alternate understanding, but he felt his heart break when you started shaking in his arms. His girl, only his, sobbing in his arms.

“My love..” He whispered, dropping your phone somewhere on the bed and holding you with both arms again.

Your sobs shook your shoulders and he realized that he didn’t need to know what that message said at all. Rafe needed to be next to you, he needed to kiss your tears away, he needed you to look at him with nothing but love and trust.

“Talk to me, princess.” He spoke into your hair, planting an encouraging kiss on the crown of your head.

“Can’t..” You sobbed, clutching tighter onto him.

Sleep clouded your senses, safety replacing the white-hot feeling of dread as he kissed your forehead like you were made of only porcelain and glass rather than the harsh reality of bones and blood.

Rafe woke up with your soft skin pressing into his tense body. It was hard sleeping knowing that your tears stained his chest. You stirred in his arms and he strained his neck down to kiss your cheek gently, pulling back up to relax into the plush pillows.

His hand found its way from the warm confines of your hair and down your neck, stopping at the base of your back. Rafe drew up your shirt just enough to slot his fingers under, scratching your back to the beat of the thoughts in his head.

Reflections and recollections of his father’s angry shouts flooded his mind. Every word attacked him and latched onto him almost the same as they had when he was nothing but a child. He was stronger now, stronger than the words his father spat at him and the fist that same man had thrown at him.

Rafe worked quietly to take hold of your phone again. He didn’t bother reading your father’s small and dismissive texts. On an impulse, Rafe instantly found the block button and deleted his contact. He cleared all of your tabs, feeling a pang of guilt course through him. That quickly disappeared.

The soft shaking of Rafe’s body woke you up. He muttered something but you couldn’t hear the detail of his voice. Instead, you hiked one of your legs up onto his abdomen and let your head bury itself into his side. You gave him a squeeze, emitting a small chuckle from him.

“G’morning, princess.” He said, brushing a hand through your hair as a strong, protective urge blanketed him.

Rafe felt safe when you felt safe. He felt at peace when you did and he felt protected when you felt the same. His happiness was solely in your hands and you were clueless, at least he thought you were.

“Morning..” You yawned into him, starting to fall back asleep in his warm embrace.

Rafe kissed you softly, pulling you upright and brushing the strands of hair away from your face.

“Gotta get up.. important business today.” He said with a higher pitch to his voice that made your heart melt.

You pouted and nodded as Rafe got out of bed and retrieved the outfit he had picked out for you yesterday. He began to get ready, checking on you once and seeing that you were still in bed, slowly falling asleep on your own terms.

Rafe walked over to you, sitting next to you and picking up your head to lay on his lap. His fingers lazily tangled into your hair as he spoke to you.

“C’mon baby, time to get ready.” Rafe’s voice bordered a whisper while he sat you upright again.

“M’kay..” You answered groggily.

You dramatically got out of bed, a protesting pout shading your face as he chuckled at your stubborn features. The ice of your tired chest broke when he kissed you and warmed your entire body with pastel-red love.

Getting ready was never a chore when Rafe was next to you. His company had never shied away from you and he made sure to attach you to his hip at all times.

“You look gorgeous, princess.” He said, kissing your glossy lips deeply enough to steal some right from your face. He wiped his mouth with a laugh, settling on your forehead. He stooped down to kiss the perch of your face before helping you up.

“Really?” You asked with a bright smile. His eyes softened at your question, noticing a hint of doubt lining your features.

“I’d never lie to you, sweetheart.” He whispered to you, capturing your lips in a quick kiss before pulling away to admire the way blush flares up your face.

You nodded, never being amazing at receiving compliments but you couldn’t deny how his words made your whole heart melt into a puddle inside of your ribs. Rafe pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, cupping your face.

“You’re my girl, m’always gonna think you’re pretty. Won’t ever give up on you, a’ight?”

Tears brimmed your waterline as he forced you to hold eye contact with his softening eyes.

“I got you, pretty girl.”

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weebsinstash · 8 months

Text

Sitting here watching that clip of Valentino with that demon girl going "you're gorgeous! Do you need a job? 🥰" and started thinking of Val either intentionally or unintentionally making Reader feel massively insecure and ugly and Val using that to manipulate them

I've mentioned "oh what if your job is serving him drinks at his club" but what if he also starts dragging you along when he goes out like some kind of weird PA. Like he's just throwing random bills at you that he clearly isn't counting like it's pocket change in a very "yeah sure whatever just do it bitch" kind of way so you put up with it, it's good income, but it's still... WEIRD. He's going to get his antenna done at the salon, and you're like. Having to STAND THERE beside his chair, you're not even in the lobby waiting room, you've gotta be WITH HIM, and you just get all these windows into his cunty personality where he's spoiled and mean to service workers and is a total fucking diva and it's extremely off-putting I'm sure

He's in a night club hitting on people whose bodies are absolutely insane like I'm talking GYATT city, ass and titties, you've got twunks and you've got hunks, and you're like, in sneakers, off to the side, head down playing games on your phone since you can't even put earbuds in because you unfortunately have to keep an ear open since he'll order YOU to bring drinks, not just for him, but for these complete strangers who don't even work for him too, AND he'll let them be fucking mean to you. You bring some bubble butt twink who's on Val's arm the daiquiri he asked for and he gives you a very clear look up and down before laughing, cuddling up to Val, "yeah I can SEE you need new employees 😋" and they all laugh Including Fucking Valentino

I dunno, I'm on the fence. It really changes with the story. You get the yandere who are obsessive but more abusive-adjacent and then you have the more true-blooded kind that won't accept any slander of you at all. Like can you imagine Valentino's smile just dropping off his face because some chick like, tells you you have cellulite or even something MILD like your mascara is bad or idk what are, male insults.... you have a flat ass??? And Valentino just instantly shoves them away "okay you're done bye, let the door hit you on the way out 🤭"

But today we're talking about angst and feeling fucking miserable so. Over time it just, makes you feel so horrible about yourself to go to these nightclubs. It isn't even about fucking Valentino, it's about how you're sitting here watching everyone EXCEPT YOU receive all this fawning and compliments and attention, even if Val is faking some of it just to lure in more workers. You see a girl who has the perfect skin and you run fingers over an ice pick scar on your cheek, male reader sees a guy who's tall but muscular with nice facial hair and you feel your own baby face and smaller build, there are people thinner than you, curvier than you, stronger than you, smarter than you, and you watch all of them get called gorgeous and beautiful and handsome and sexy and you're just the fucking dweeb who gets teased, mocked, BULLIED

One night Valentino is sitting there talking to another girl, "oh my gosh, honey, I would TOTALLY do body shots off of you. Hey, can we get some shots over here? .... helllooooo, I SAID can we get some shots? ...bitch if you make me repeat myself again--" and he looks over and you're not even there. It's like ice. Suddenly without warning you're not there and he doesn't know what to do because you're ALWAYS there and whenever you're not it's because he LETS YOU leave??? Like??? He's immediately standing up even if it knocks away the people hanging off of him and he's looking around, "you BETTER be in the fucking bathroom--"

And over the crowd of people he sees you on the opposite end of the club, as if you were actively trying to put as much distance between you two as possible, and you're with a guy, some big furry monster boy, and you laugh with a big smile and Valentino GRINDS his teeth as he realizes it's been ages since you laughed around him, let alone at anything HE'S said, and you're actually drinking with this guy where you would always be way too stiff and cautious around Val (although he also really wouldn't let you drink anyways, being more of a waiter when you're 'on the clock')

Obsessed with the idea of Val making Reader carry around combs and brushes to comb his antenna/fur and Val sees you using them on another guy. like I think he'd go absolutely violently fucking crazy honestly because 1. Those are HIS and he is a bougie Gucci material man like those are high quality things being used on some RANDO 2. Those are for HIM, you're using them on someone ELSE 3. The person using them on someone else is YOU, YOU'RE brushing another man, YOU'RE cuddling another man like some kind of UNGRATEFUL WHORE--

When I say you suddenly look up and you're being GRABBED, HAULED UP to your feet by your arm, grip on you so tight it's ready to fucking bruise, and Val just shoots this guy in the head, like cartoonishly powerful gun just splatters the dudes head from what should have been just a single bullet hole I'm sure. You're like vaguely traumatized and trying to tell yourself the man will regenerate and be fine but now Valentino's got a gun in his hand and he's furious and you just start CRYING. He doesn't even CARE about the people he was flirting with anymore, if he has any employees in the club with him he doesn't even call out that it's time to go, he just starts DRAGGING YOU to the limo and will just LEAVE EVERYONE there because he's in such a rage, also, have you guys seen the posts where people point out there are moth squeaking effects when he speaks sometimes. So he's just fucking mad, voice cracking, shouting, squeaking, and i think it'd be funny if he spends like 15 minutes screaming about THE GUY while he has you like all but glued to his lap on the ride home and doesn't say a single thing about what you did. Just manic ranting on his phone as he HAS to call Vox, "oh my god you wouldn't FUCKING BELIEVE what this piece of shit did in front of me, the ugliest fucking guy I've ever seen was--" and you're like trembling wondering when he's going to pivot and realize like, you were also. Intentionally willingly sitting with that guy.

But he doesn't even like. Acknowledge it that way. He just keeps ranting about the guy touching something that doesn't belong to him, he's gotta replace all his fucking combs now, oh my GOD Vox like SERIOUSLY-- and then it's probably Vox that's like, with a disinterested voice, "sooooo.... WHICH whore did this happen to again???" And Valentino without hesitating just straight up says your name, "the nerdy one, you KNOW which one I'm talking about"

And that's when you just start to blubber cause you're tired and you're tipsy and you're mentally worn down, "oh OF COURSE I'm 'the nerdy one'!! You drag me all over the fucking place and I never get any time to myself and I have to WATCH everyone ELSE have fun, and when I finally find someone who calls ME cute, calls ME pretty, you fucking SHOOT HIM!" and you're just, face in your hands crying and you can't see it as Valentino GRINS like some fucking MONSTER because, "Aw, pobrecita, is that what this is about? You're lonely? ❤️w❤️"

And you're just mad and crying and pouting and you're telling him to go fuck himself and actually starting to get a little mouthy and have an attitude with him and he doesn't even care because how upset you're getting is going right to his head. even if you don't want to, you're jealous of him giving other people attention instead of you, and now he's watching you get all upset and sniffly over it and he's so full of himself, this makes him feel so powerful that he's reduced you to this insecure bawling state, and he's rubbing your shoulders, "awwww, don't cry mami, you should've told me you were wanting some 'attention'"

At this point you could be literally slapping his hands away but he's gonna keep pulling you close to him on purpose and NOW, now he's laying on all the fucking compliments, stroking the tops of your thighs. He knows exactly what scent you're using in your hair. Oh, you're wearing the nail polish you bought during one of your first months here; he's always liked this color on you. He's commenting and bringing up things you didn't expect him to notice let alone remember about you and... you're just so weak to it.... you're lonely... and he's here... and maybe it's the smoke or his cologne or what but he smells so good, he's so close, your head feels a little funny--

The rest of your night blurs together after that, but when you wake up, you're not at your place, or the studio, or anywhere you mildly recognize. You're in a bed way too big for someone your size, and you're especially not used to SOMEONE ELSE BEING IN IT WITH YOU. Val just has you caged in all of his arms and is passed out drooling in a post alcohol, post drug, post fuckathon coma, and you can FEEL in your muscles and in your body that you two were up to some wiiiiiild shit together.

IF you may manage to sneak out of V Tower without being stopped or caught, it won't make hin suddenly forget all the things you told him, or him now knowing how it feels to have your hands on his body, or how it looks to have your big sad wet eyes looking up at him and then sparkling with one of his compliments. Usually he WANTS bitches to be gone when he wakes up but, this time? When those eyes open and you're not there? Instantly feeling rejected, mad, irritated, he can't exactly identify why, he's just MAD you ran off without telling him and he's instantly blowing up your line to figure out where you are, and now you have become a recipient of The Voice-mails

"Heeeeeeey, baby, so, it's so funny but I just woke up and I can't find you in the tower? Did you run off to get breakfast somewhere? You KNOW you shouldn't run off without telling me first; I need you to come on back here ❤️"

"-- so answer your phone you fucking SLUT!! You better not be with another fucking guy, or I swear to fucking GOD--"

"--It just stresses me out that there are so many different kinds of people down here, I worry someone might hurt you, amorcito. I can't help protect you if I'm not there, soooooo, why don't you just, tell me where you are--"

"Is this fucking funny for you, you cunt?! You get all worked up about how PATHETIC AND SAD you are and then leave me? Leave ME? ME?! You're LUCKY i even TOUCHED YOU AT ALL--"

"Heeeeeeey, oh my gosh so this is so funny ummmm, Vox just let me know that Velvette borrowed you for something, soooooooooo, please don't listen to any of those other voicemails, ok? You know how CRAZY you make me, right? Don't forget you have a shift tonight, and if you even think about not showing up, I have some hellhounds that know your scent already and they'll drag you back here by your hair, sooooo, see you later love you byeeeeee ❤️"

#yandere hellaverse #yandere hazbin hotel #valentino x reader #yandere stuff #sinprompts

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frantic-fiction · 7 months

Text

Tension 18+

Pic: littlelovelore

Astarion x f!reader

Summary: During a solo mission, Astarion takes the opportunity to indulge in some "depraved carnal lust".

Warnings: 18+ MDNI Slight enemies to lovers, sex bent over a desk, sex with clothes on, mild choking, rough sex, reader handles her crush like a fifth grader (by being mean) Astarion is his smug self

Word Count: 3.2k

Masterlist

Back-to-back posts brought to you by Bree's insomnia...Enjoy!

"Do you want me to do it?" Astarion smugly asks, flicking his wrist sharply, sending a dagger into the wood beam before him. He's leaning against the cracked wall of the tunnel. A condescending smile stretches across his pale lips.

"Shut the fuck up!" You snap, twisting the lockpick violently, it's stuck on something, and it is pissing you off.

"My my, someone's testy today." The Vampire pushes off the wall to retrieve his dagger, only for you to hear the same thud of the knife hitting the abused beam once again.

You clench your jaw, wanting nothing more than to drown the bastard in the small stream of gray water. See him try to be a smartass when he's choking on sewage.

No! Just breathe.

As soon as you get this damn door open, all you need is to grab the stolen lease for the damn butcher, and the party will have a nice payout. Then Astarion's snarky comments and teasing jabs can be ignored behind a glass of ale and a nice meal.

Well, if you don't kill him first.

The relationship between you and the Vampire is a complex one, to say the least. Astarion is an arrogant, pompous dick. You're a temperamental stubborn asshole. It made for a messy mix of harsh insults and constant attempts to belittle the other.

It would have been so easy to hate him completely, but Astarion can be sweet under the cloak of night, and you could almost pretend he's a tolerable person when he speaks those honey-coated words. And when you let him feed from you, everything became so much more complicated.

The pick snaps, and you drop your head, groaning in frustration. You stand up and kick hard against a crate; the decayed wood breaks against your boot. Sighing in defeat, you motion to the rogue.

Astarion laughs smoothly, tucking the knife away, and exchanges it for his thieves' tools. Giving you a wink, he bends down to examine the lock. You pretend not to admire the swell of his ass, but who are you kidding Astarion is extremely attractive.

With little to no fanfare, the lock turns over, and Astarion opens the door. "After you."

"I fucking hate you." You grumble, pushing past, making a point to shove your shoulder hard into the rouge.

"Keep telling yourself that Darling,"

You flip him off.

The sewer system is a winding path of tunnels leading to various places. The two of you walk in silence for a few minutes.

"Are you sure we are going the right way?" Astarion asks, breaking the peace.

"Of course, this is the right way." You hiss, glaring over your shoulder. "I can read a map."

"Just like you could pick a lock, yes?"

You don't think you've ever seen a more punchable face. You're almost tempted to smack him just to see his reaction. Instead, you practice a semblance of self-control and ignore him.

After a few more turns, you hit a dead end. It's nothing but a damp brick wall. Scanning the map, you're sure you followed all the proper steps; there should be an entrance. Stowing the stupid paper away, you begin feeling the brick for any invisible button, unwilling to admit defeat in front of Astarion. All hideouts have secret levers. Right?

"Well, sweetheart, I think you've gotten us lost."

"No, I didn't, jackass, now be useful for once and help me." You bend down and begin trailing your fingertips against the rough bricks near the floor.

"I don't think I will. I'm quite enjoying the view from here."

You look back towards the rogue, "What are you talking about–" you choke on your words.

Astarion is shamelessly eyeing your form. A fang tugs at his bottom lip, hunger darkening his eyes. You swallow hard, and a flame ignites low in your stomach. You have a sudden urge to press him against the wall. That thought startles you. This is Astarion. The obnoxious, arrogant, attractive–no, stop that. You stand up and shake your head, willing your thoughts to clear.

"You're ridiculous," you sigh and dig through your bag.

Retrieving the knock scroll, Gale scribed for you. Repeating the steps he told you to do, you mumbled the incantation, and soon enough, what was once a solid brick wall cracked open to reveal a hidden path.

"Told you I knew where I was going," you boast, sticking your tongue out childishly.

Astarion smirks, "Yes, a broken clock is right twice a day."

Scoffing, you shove him hard, causing him to take a few steps to correct his footing. The entrance leads to a broken-down ladder and a worn wooden hatch. Astarion steps up to pick the lock and lifts the hatch barely to survey the room. He pushes the trapdoor open and enters.

Following suit, you find yourself in a dusty broom closet. Astarion is already at the door to the hallway, a sliver of light pouring through the crack. Closing the trapdoor, you cross your arms and wait for Astarion to turn back to you.

"It's abandoned."

"Are you sure?"

Scoffing, Astarion doesn't answer. He pushes the door open and begins down the hall. You follow after him.

The small hideout is plainly decorated, the common room has a dingy sofa and a coffee table. The fireplace is dead; not even embers remain. Good. In the corner, there looks to be an unfinished game of cards. The faded carpet runner leads down the hall to a large ornate door.

Astarion is already opening the door by the time you reach him. By the looks of it, this is the boss's office. A large oak desk sat in the middle room. A plush chair pulled slightly away as if someone hadn't bothered to move it back. Bookshelves line the back wall.

"Secure the door," you say as you move to the window to the left of the door. You hear Astarion mumble something but don't quite catch his words.

The window is a short drop good for a quick escape if needed.

You move to the desk and begin rifling through the papers on the desk. Tax documents, random notes, crappy doodles, and a cringey love letter, but not what you're looking for. You rip open the first drawer. Nothing. Second drawer. Nothing. Third, nothing.

"Astarion, did you find anything?"

"Nothing important." His sultry voice is deep and so very close to your ear.

Your heart drops, but you suppress any other signs of distress, knowing that is exactly what he's looking for. Sighing In annoyance, you turn around to face Astarion and cross your arms over your chest.

"Are you even trying to look for the damn paper? We need to get what we're here for and get the fuck out!"

Astarion's mouth cracks into a cheeky grin, and he closes in on you. You back against the desk instinctually, reaching a hand up that lands on his firm chest. Astarion has you caged against the desk, each hand on either side of your hips. You know Astarion can hear the thrumming of your heart and the shaky inhalation of your breath, and you curse your body for betraying you.

He bends his head down to press his mouth against your ear. "What if I'm looking for something else?"

You freeze. What did he mea–

The thought is forgotten because he's slamming his lips onto yours. You gasp in surprise, and Astarion wastes no time, delving his tongue into your mouth and claiming it as his.

The slight metallic taste of blood that lingers on his tongue should repulse you but has you moaning desperately for more. You grip your fist tightly into the fabric of Astarion's armor. His body is flush against yours, but you need more. You scratch your nails up his neck and tangle your fingers into his hair. Astarion groans into your mouth, biting at your bottom lip.

Everything is hazy, and you're lost in the kiss. Your thoughts are slow to catch up with the situation, too consumed by the taste of his lips. Astarion's lips. Astarion.

You push him away, chest heaving in rapid breaths. "What are you doing?"

"I'd hope my intentions would be obvious by now." He grins and dives back to kiss down your neck, dragging his teeth against your skin. "I could be more obvious if that would clear things up."

A sharp bite of his mouth at your throat drags a choked gargle from your swollen lips. You feel dizzy from the scent of rosemary and bergamot invading your nose. Lightheaded from the sudden turn of events. Astarion presses a knee between your legs, applying firm pressure against your burning arousal.

Gods, what was he doing to you?

Needing to gain any form of control, you tug sharply at the roots of his silver curls, drawing a hiss from the man.

You finally manage to gasp out, "We hate each other." As if that would somehow clear up your raging thoughts.

Except, could you hate someone who is making you feel so good?

Cold fingers trail against the skin between your leather armor and trousers. Astarion's deft hands start pulling at the lace of your pants. Another wave of arousal warms your body, and you feel drunk on the pale elf.

"You say that, yet I don't think you want me to stop." He purrs, halting his movements, and meets your eyes. "Do you want me to stop?"

You shake your head, desperate for more. Your dignity couldn't live with letting Astarion reduce you to a begging mess. However, if you were honest with yourself, you're already halfway there. Reaching out, you grab for his belt.

Astarion was having none of that. He's quick to twirl you around and press your torso flush against the top of the desk. A stack of paper flies off and scatters to the ground, but neither of you put much care into it. Astarion grinds his front roughly against your ass, and you moan at the feeling of his hardening cock against you.

"No, no, no, my dear, use your words."

"Gods, are you always so fucking annoying?" You whine pressing back and rolling your ass against him. Astarion grunts, gripping your hips tightly. "Are you going to fuck me, or should I just take care of myself?"

Astarion groans, rocking against each roll of your hips. "There's my spitfire."

"I'm not yours."

Astarion tugs at your pants and underwear, pulling them over your rear and letting them pool around your ankles. You kick off your boots and free yourself, leaving your lower half bare to the open air. A shiver rushes up your spine as the cold air hits your dripping heat.

Astarion's slim fingers trail down your folds, and you bite your lips to stifle a cry. Tilting your head back, you see the rogue admiring the slick coating his fingers.

"You might not be mine, darling." Astarion slips his drenched fingers into his mouth, and you watch, mouth agape, as he swirls his tongue to clean each digit. "But who else has seen you bent over a desk looking as desperate and delicious as you do now?"

"I could name a few," you say cheekily, earning you a smack on the flesh of your backside.

Astarion gropes the reddened skin and bends down, blanketing you with his body. You feel the soft pants of his breath cascade over your neck as Astarion brings his lips to your ear.

"Then it seems I'm just going to have to ruin you for anyone else." Astarion practically growls and licks along the shell of your ear before taking the lobe in between his mouth and teasing it with his teeth. You don't recall hearing Astarion unclasp his belt, but when you feel his bare cock rub against your back, all you can do is arch your back and moan.

"Astarion," you part your legs more in silent invitation.

"Yes, my dear," His voice is smug as he rocks against you. He knows what you want but wants to hear you say it.

The head of his cock parts your folds and moves to tease your desperate clit; a collective moan fills the room, but it is not enough for either of you. And knowing that the two of you are currently in the middle of dangerous territory means there is no time to play.

"Stop being a prick and fuck me."

"Have I ever told you, you always have such a way with words." Astarion chuckles before plunging deep into your cunt.

A shaky cry leaves your lips, all air seemingly ripped from your lungs. Astarion is bigger than most men you've slept with prior - though you wouldn't dare voice that out loud in case it inflates his already-inflated ego. The stretch holds a delicious sting, and you feel the beginning of the burn of tears at the corner of your eyes.

Astarion's still his hips for a moment, letting you collect yourself. His thumbs are rubbing soothing circles into the small of your back and peppering kisses across your neck. Once the sting of his initial entrance simmers to a stirring heat, you tell him to move.

"Hells you're so tight." Astarion groans as he sets a teasing pace, dragging the rugged ridges of his cock out before plunging back in at the same agonizing pace.

A pace you could imagine sharing intimately with Astarion all night somewhere secluded. Perhaps your tent or an isolated clearing, not a random gang's currently empty hideout. And since you're not one to play nice, you decide to play with fire instead.

Pushing up on your elbows, you move your head to look back at Astarion, a playful smirk on your lips. "You say you're going to ruin me, but I think Gale could be doing a better job of it right now."

Astarion's body freezes just as you hoped he would react. He shoots you a look full of daggers and bares his teeth in annoyance. Without comprehending entirely what's happening, Astarion pulls out of you and, with a strength you have not seen from the Vampire (the same Vampire who asks others on multiple occasions to carry his pack because it's too heavy), flips you over and has you seated firmly back on the desk leaving you dizzy but feeling giddy as a schoolgirl.

"Oh darling, you're going to regret that."

Astarion rams back into your pussy and begins to thrust quick and brutally deep into your body. His cold hand is wrapped around your throat, holding it firmly enough to keep your eyes locked onto him.

Your legs link around his lean hips, pulling him deeper into you. Moaning desperately, you run one of your hands up under his leather armor, splaying it across his stomach. You grab his face and pull him into a kiss, all tongue and teeth and perfection.

The desk is groaning under the movement of your bodies. Random knick-knacks are clanging to the floor. A bottle of whiskey shatters, and the pungent aroma wafts into the air, mingling with the scent of sweat and slick.

"You and that mouth of yours." He breathes deep into your ear. "Always so confident, so snarky, so bratty."

"M-more…" you choke, clenching around his length, desperate for anything and everything he will give you.

"Do you think the wizard could handle you?" The hand not firmly holding your neck snakes between your legs and begins to play with your clit.

"Gods A-star.." You gasp, eyes rolling back.

"Could he or anyone else make you feel this good?" Astarion's hand tightens slightly against your neck, and the lack of oxygen leaves you feeling dizzy and euphoric.

"N-no…please."

"After me, no one will ever be able to satisfy you." His thumb is now rubbing fast, tight circles against your clit. "Fuck, that's it, squeeze me just like that."

Gripping onto the desk, you shift your hips, and Astarion is now hitting deeper into your abused cunt. You tighten your legs around his waist, urging him to go faster. That delicious coil is beginning to burn deep in your stomach, and you know you won't last much longer.

"Tell me, who's making you feel this good," Astarion demands, voice husky.

"Y-you,"

"And when you come on my cock, I want you to scream my name." He grunts, and the thrust of his hips is beginning to become sloppier. "I want to hear just how good I make you feel."

Everything is too much. Astarion's sinful words, the harsh thrust of his hips combined with the tight circles of his thumb on your clit, the musky smell of Astarion's sweat mingling with yours, and the intense fragrance of the spilled whiskey.

You don't remember the details, just the wave of euphoria as the coil snaps and your orgasm washes over you. The words that spill from your lips hold no meaning in your clouded mind. The only thing that holds context is the feeling of Astarion stuttering thrusts of his hips as he chases his release from your spent body.

And when he stills, and the world falls silent apart for your combined pants of breath, all you do is brush the curls off his forehead and kiss his cheek. Why? You're not sure, but that's something you'll ask yourself later.

Once you return to relatively normal breathing, Astarion moves from his slumped position against your body. He stares at you in astonishment.

"Well, that happened." You offer because what else were you supposed to say?

Astarion breaks out into a genuine laugh, full belly and joyful as he tucks himself away. You couldn't help but join in as you move to put your clothes on.

"Yes, my sweet, I suppose that did happen."

"So where-"

The two of you jump at a commotion coming from the hall. Someone is jingling the doorknob, trying to open it; when it doesn't budge, there is a loud bang followed by an even louder shout of anger.

"Fuck!" You quickly finish tying your boots and collect your gear.

"Seems like our friends are back from their trip. I believe it's time to go." Astarion says as he moves to the window and opens it. Without waiting for you to respond, he gives you a devilish smirk and jumps out.

"Shit, the paper." You sigh, knowing you'll never hear the end of it.

By the time you make it to the window, the door is being busted in, and a very angry-looking dwarf is storming into the room. You smile at him and give him a salute before diving out the window, knowing Astarion will be there to catch you.

***Later at camp***

"What do you mean you didn't get the document?" Gale yells, the others equally baffled by you and Astarion's failure. "That was the only thing you needed to get!"

You shrink in on yourself looking to Astarion for help. "I...I don"

Astarion rolls his eyes. "Stealing objects from heavily populated hideouts is harder than you might think, wizard."

"That's why we sent you two!"

"Then perhaps next time-"

"HOLY SHIT!" Karlach interrupts, drawing everyone's attention. She's pointing straight at you with a look of bafflement. "Soldier's got a fucking hickey."

You clamp a hand over the spot Astarion was biting at earlier, wishing for the ground to swallow you whole.

Shadowheart's face scrunches up in disgust. "Please don't tell me, we're not getting paid because you two idiots decided to fuck?"

"Darling, it would seem the cat's out of the bag." The bastard has the audacity to look proud.

"I hate you all." You groan and storm off to your tent, contemplating just how bad it would be to join the Absolute.

Feedback always makes my day so let me know what you guys thought. And if you're looking for something sweet to balance out the spice check out my last post right here.

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wandasaura · 7 months

Text

LINGER LIKE A TATTOO KISS

summary — as the summer approaches, so does a shift in your relationship with wanda

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, sensory overload, anxiety, mentions of child abuse (very brief and nondescript), dom/sub dynamics, patience testing, bratty!reader, punishment, teasing, mild humiliation, orgasm denial, spanking, praise, aftercare, entrance of the mommy kink, men/minors dni

authors note — the moment we’ve all been waiting for… or at least one of them ;), we finally got some wanda action, and a couple little domestic scenes because they’re the cutest wives

you are in love universe

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff ✧

The supermarket was beyond crowded for it being a Wednesday afternoon in early May. You supposed the air conditioned aisles were being used as an escape from the scalding temperatures of approaching summer that threatened to melt the inventory of every ice cream truck in the neighborhood, but to say you were overstimulated was putting it lightly.

You trailed after Wanda and Natasha with a frown on your face, making your disinterest known to both of the lawyers who were in desperate need of more produce and salad kits. You’d never understand why Natasha favored the plastic bags of lettuce over the perfectly green heads that Wanda grew in the back garden, but she’d thrown at least six prepackaged variations into the cart when you stopped at the stand. You were trailing down the cereal aisle now, and your attitude was getting on both of their nerves.

Wanda had been flat out ignoring your temper tantrum since the moment it started, but Natasha was not as keen to be dismissive as her wife. She’d been throwing out warnings since you’d first come through the automatic doors, but they had all fallen on deaf ears as you stayed persistent in your pout. Your arms were folded over your chest, your eyes slitted into daggers if anyone even attempted to look in your direction. You’d been near perfectly behaved for weeks, spare a few harsh comments thrown in Wanda’s direction, but they’d both been willing to overlook your harshness because aside from those, you’d been an angel. Whatever streak of good behavior you’d been running off of however, had seen its end, and both lawyers in front of you were shocked by the attitude you simmered in.

“If I have to ask you again to pick up your feet, I’m going to make you sit in the cart like a child.” Natasha’s voice was quiet, not willing to draw attention from the other shoppers in the aisle, but there was an unignorable warning in her tone. She’d asked you three times to stop dragging your feet across the floors, and each time you promptly dragged them harder. You were absolutely certain that smudges of black looped the grocery store floors and aided as a map to your current location, but you didn’t care. You’d been so good, so painfully good and pliant and willing to bend to even the slightest gust of wind, but not today. Not now. Not when it was too hot and too cold at the same time. Not when it was too loud and too crowded and you’d asked them both if you could just stay home. They hadn’t wanted that. They wanted to go together, told you that you were going together even after you protested, and you know it’s because they’d wanted to get you some of your favorite treats for the end of the semester coming up, but how could they blame you for being cranky when you’d warned them about not wanting to come along at all. You’d been here for what felt like hours, and if your phone wasn’t being held captive in Wanda’s pocket, you’re sure the digits on your lockscreen would support your accusation.

“Can we leave?!” You ignored Natasha’s warning, wiggled away from her when she got too close, and pressed yourself up against the shelves of cereal boxes. You wouldn’t fare well to the close contact she wanted to initiate, but she didn’t seem to get that, because the second you thought you had found peace in your little corner, she was right back in front of you with a glare only the worst criminals faced. She was not your loving and sweet dominant right now, you’d pushed her too far, and she didn’t take kindly to embarrassment. You’re pretty sure that the man three carts behind you had been gawking at your temperament since you came in, and while Wanda had sent him a glare, he still hadn’t gotten the hint that your little attitude didn’t concern him. Natasha grabbed at your wrists, pulling them away from your chest with a grip too strong to fight. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you wiggled immediately, but she wasn’t letting go. “Nat, let go.” You pleaded with her, desperately tried to get her to understand you needed space right now, but she was seething and subsequently blinded by your panic.

“Natalia.” Wanda called out for her wife, her careful eye watching your movements despite the seeming disinterest on her lips. Your eyes flickered over to Wanda, and while to Natasha it appeared that you were a deer in headlights anticipating a scolding, the Sokovian could see the wisps of actual panic in your stare. “Let go.”

Natasha listened, if only because a crowd had started to form toward the opposite end of the aisle and she wanted to move on before she became the cause of a traffic jam. Her hand left yours, and though it had been making your skin burn, you missed it instantly. Tears brimmed your eyes, but you refused to let her see that, and so instead of pleading that you leave only to be overlooked again, you just dropped your chin to your chest and followed along after them both with a drag in your step.

“This is your chance to tell me what’s wrong.” You practically jumped out of your skin when Wanda’s voice appeared closer than it had been all afternoon. If you had leaned any closer into her, your arm would have brushed her chest. You shuffled away from her, beyond the point of communication. You thought you’d made it pretty clear that you wanted to leave, anytime you acted out Natasha didn’t hesitate to drag you away, but she hadn’t this time. You knew that realistically it was because she needed supplies to make dinner, but after weeks of being good, you couldn’t deny that you had missed the feeling of her heavy hands on your skin in a way that was less than kind. You could ask for what you needed, but you would rather die a slow painful death then ask for what she called a ‘maintenance spanking’. “If you’re not going to communicate, then I don’t want the attitude. You are making a scene. Drop it, pick out some snacks, and try to be nice.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” You huffed, making the rash decision to shove her body away from yours with both of your outstretched palms. Wanda’s lips set into a firm line, her eyebrows raised in surprise at the action. You’ve been rude, snarky even, but you’ve never raised your hands to her, even if it was only to create some space between your bodies. You shuffled on your feet, immediately regretting the decision to force space rather than ask for it. You’d been riding her last nerve for days, your sarcastic comments just the slightest bit meaner than usual, but she had been willing to overlook them because she knew you were stressed with finals and outside of those one-off comments you’d been helpful and obedient. There was no way she’d ignore this, and you wanted to cry thinking about how at the end of the night it wouldn’t be Natasha’s hands on your body that you wanted so desperately, but hers. “I– sorry.” You apologized weakly, not even sure what it was that you were apologizing for. Was it because the look in her eyes was undeniably scary, or was it because you pushed her? You knew that it was a mixture of both, but you needed that look to go away before you could even form a coherent thought.

“In the cart.” She demanded, not leaving you any room to argue. You violently shook your head, knowing that being confined to such a small space would only make the panic in your belly worse. There were too many noises and stimulus, too many conflicting temperatures, being confined between four metal bumpers would certainly set you off and you were only just barely keeping yourself together now. “If you want to act like a child you’ll get treated like one. Natasha has asked you four times to stop dragging your feet, and frankly, I can’t trust that you’ll keep your hands to yourself anymore. You either sit in the cart, or you and I will go out to the car and you won’t be getting any of the treats you want. Which one is it going to be?”

“I want Nat.” You pleaded with her, suddenly aware of the fact that you didn’t even know where the other redhead had wandered off to, or when she’d started moving. She had been right in front of you, but now you couldn’t spot her and the thought of losing her in the supermarket spiked worry in your chest. “Where’s Nat?” You didn’t care about how frantic you appeared, didn’t care that you were ignoring Wanda’s question and definitely making things worse for yourself. You hated getting separated, you hated breaking off into pairs even if the three of you had set a meet up location if this were to happen.

Wanda, though annoyed with your behavior, sighed softly and dropped the threatening glare she’d been pointing at you. “Nat went to get some grapes and strawberries. You finished them this morning, remember?” You could only nod, remembering that you had in fact finished their fruit after refusing to eat the eggs that Wanda made for breakfast. It was too hot outside for anything warm to eat. They weren’t giving you a choice in tagging along, and although you couldn’t control where they dragged you, well you could if you had called your safeword and asked for space, but that wasn’t really what you wanted. You still had control over what you ate even if the supermarket was non negotiable, and you knew that the cold fruit would sit better in your stomach when it inevitably came time to leave.

“This is the last time I’m going to ask you what’s wrong, Y/N. If you refuse to answer, I will be the one you deal with when we get home. This behavior is unacceptable.” Wanda remained firm, but there was concern in her voice that made you wonder if you would avoid punishment if you came clean. Deciding that you’d rather face humiliation than her heavy hand on your ass, you relented.

“There’s too many people.” You whispered, shamefully dropping your eyes to the floor, counting the specs of black and gold in the tiles beneath your feet. The design was ugly when isolated, but somehow it worked for the aesthetic of the store when you focused on the full picture. “It’s too loud. And tomorrow's my last final and I’m not sure how it’s going to go, and I have to sleep at my dorm tonight and I haven’t done that since Natty was away. And I just need space right now but I don’t want to be alone.”

The Maximoff residence had practically become your residence since the night you showed up in tears. You’d spent all of your nights in the soft guest bed, and most of your mornings in the dining room eating a homemade breakfast for the last six weeks. It was embarrassing to admit that you had gotten used to being there with them, that now that you had it, you didn’t want to trade it in for your stiff dorm room with a roommate you hadn’t spoken a word to since the first week of classes, even if it would only be for a handful of hours to sleep. You hated sleeping alone, even if you had slept alone in their house almost every night, spare the occasions Natasha fucked you into that fuzzy headspace she adores and they had let you crash in bed with them. Sleeping in your dorm was different, and lonely. And yeah, you had survived three years of dorm living prior to meeting them, but things were different now. You are different now.

Wanda’s face melted into softness at your admission, and suddenly you felt silly for keeping it to yourself for so long, but you’d unasked for self-criticism had convinced you that you were being needy and unreasonable and they wouldn’t understand where your head was at even if you tried to articulate. After almost a year with Natasha, you should’ve known that wasn’t true, shouldn’t have even entertained that thought, but after showing both her and Wanda that you could be good for longer than just a couple hours, you’d felt like raising any problems no matter their origin would only aggravate them. You didn’t want to lose what you had, even if it meant being uncomfortable in a grocery store.

“It is pretty overstimulating in here, isn’t it?” Wanda coos, her green eyes understanding and sympathetic. It’s a violent switch from how she’d been talking to you, but you thrive beneath her gentle validation of your feelings and find yourself nodding along. “Natty and I try our best to accommodate you, but we don’t know everything that can be overwhelming for you. We need you to tell us, so these things don’t happen. Shoving me didn’t make it any less crowded, and ignoring Nat didn’t make it any less loud. I know you were trying your best, but how could we have handled that better?” You should hate the way she’s speaking to you; like a child made of glass, but somehow it makes you feel better. She doesn’t sound mad anymore, there's no unspoken threat of consequences or stripped privileges, she’s just trying to get on the same page as you, trying to get you to understand where your mistakes had been so you can fix them in the future. You hate that you want more of this, whatever it is.

“Telling you.” You sighed, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly, trying to take away some of the blame that was becoming heavy guilt in your belly. “I didn’t think you’d listen.”

“Have we ever not listened to you?” Wanda quirks an eyebrow, and you feel properly schooled beneath the expression.

“I told you I didn’t want to come.” You tried to excuse yourself, but the lawyer was having none of your avoidance. You sighed, dropping your shoulders and focusing your attention on your cuticles, picking at the skin that had only recently begun to heal. “Nobody has ever taken me seriously before. My last girlfriend used to parade me around claiming exposure would ‘fix’ me. I didn’t think it would matter to you that I’m overstimulated.”

Wanda didn’t know much of anything about your past relationships. Whenever you talked about them, which was admittedly almost never, it was only ever Natasha who was around to witness realization crash over you like high tide. Your past romantic partners and the estranged relationship with your family had completely destroyed you, however these two successful lawyers that you found yourself entangled with were slowly putting the pieces of your broken heart back together, even if they didn’t realize just how much they were helping you.

“Do you want to leave?” Wanda didn’t dwell on your revelation, she didn’t pick it apart and hone in on all of the ways you knew that she could. She’s a lawyer, the very best one in the world, don’t tell Natasha you thought that; there were a million little things in your brief explanation that had set off alarm bells in her head, but she didn’t pry. You don’t know why you thought she would, but having the topic dropped before it was even picked up had soothed at least a fraction of your newfound worry.

The question startled you, having expected that to be the last thing she suggested, but it felt good to know that she was willing to order takeout for dinner if it meant getting you out of this situation. You wanted to leave, you desperately wanted to run to the exit at the first implication that you were allowed, but they needed groceries, and you wanted the chocolate ice cream sandwiches Natasha had promised. “No.” You whispered, shaking your head just in case she hadn’t heard you over the toddler screaming bloody murder in the juice aisle. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want to sit in the cart while Nat and I finish shopping? I’ll give you back your phone and you can listen to your music until we’re done. It’s not a punishment, stop looking at me like that.” Wanda teased, and you giggled softly at her scrunched up nose and creased eyes. It was definitely a better suited look than her angry glare, and you couldn’t stop your finger from reaching out to poke her. “Did you just boop my nose?” She laughed, all of your bratty behavior forgotten about, at least for now anyways.

“It wanted to be booped. It told me.” You shrugged your shoulders, hyper aware of the fact that you’d voluntarily touched her and it hadn’t made your hand turn into flames. Your relationship was slowly on the mend, that much was undeniable, but physical touch was still something you shied away from at no fault of her own, but rather your own insecurities that needed to be worked through. “Are you gonna tell Natty I pushed you?”

“No.” Her honesty surprised you almost as much as her willingness to forgive your fatal misstep, but you nodded curtly, lips pressed into a thin line.

“I didn’t mean to. You were just too close, and Natty didn’t listen when I asked her to let go and I panicked.” You mumbled out the reason for your behavior, aware that it sounded like an excuse but there was no ounce of judgment or disbelief in Wanda’s eyes.

“I know.” She assured, and you deflated in relief. “You’re not going to do it again, if you do I will not be as forgiving, but I know you were feeling crowded, so I’m willing to let it go if you are.”

You nodded eagerly, and Wanda smiled. “Can we go find Nat now?”

As you expected, spending the night in your dorm was torturous. In the six weeks that you’d been away, you’d forgotten how your roommate snores and turns throughout the night, and her mattress was far noisier than yours had ever been. It hadn’t bothered you all that much at the start of the academic year, and maybe that had been because of your exhaustion with the adjustment and workload of seven classes instead of the typical four, or maybe you had just been able to get used to it, but now that you had discovered what true quiet sounds like when you sleep, there had not been a single ounce of rest achieved all night.

Your alarm went off at fifteen minutes to six, and you cursed whoever was cruel enough to schedule an exam for seven in the morning on a Thursday in May, but you shuffled out of bed anyway and dressed quickly in the few articles of clothing that still lingered in your dorm. Most of them had been brought to the Maximoff residence, but what hadn’t made it over because it was significantly useless with the presence of warmer weather, had been dropped off in the storage unit paid for by your mother. The woman was a flaky figure in your life at best, definitely no parent, but you appreciate her dedication to your education. She paid for your tuition, she assured you had the best meal plan and access to books and study materials, and when the seasons changed and you were let out on break, she made sure there was a safe and trustworthy place to store your belongings. She’d never once said she was proud of you, but when she asked for a report of your grades and didn’t immediately berate you, you knew that she was at least satisfied.

If you failed any of your finals, you knew there would be hell to pay. You already weren’t coming home for the summer like you usually did, and although your mother didn’t know the reason why, she was less than happy when you’d relayed the abrupt change in plans three weeks ago. She was a controlling narcissist, a woman that had brought you years of pain and suffering for her own pleasure, you knew what she was capable of the second she caught wind of academic failure, and you would not reward her the opportunity to berate you the way she did in high school when you received anything less than all A’s on your report card. It was stupid to allow a woman with no presence in your life to have so much control, but you needed to at least be perceived as a good daughter if she were going to keep paying your multi-thousand dollar bills.

The weather today was just as hot as yesterday, but there was a rise of humidity in the air that you could feel without even stepping outside. The sky looked thick and unpleasant, miraculously blue and clear, but still gross. As much as you wanted to hide away in your room and avoid the four hour exam that awaited you, it wasn’t in the cards, and so begrudgingly you laced up your shoes and grabbed your favorite pen. It was a simple pen, nothing truly special about it, but since the day you’d stolen it from Natasha’s desk, it had been used for every paper exam. The gold lettering across the black body, the name of her and Wanda’s company, was beginning to scratch and chip from the conditions you carried it through. And for being something so beloved, anyone would have thought that you’d treat it with respect, but you released copious amounts of anger and frustration on the ballpoint pen. Your teeth dug into it when you didn’t know an answer, your nails scraped at the paint when the words you had stored away in your memory felt impossible to grasp, and there were countless times that the entire pen sat dismantled and in pieces on your desk when you just needed something else to focus on for a few seconds. During one exam, you’d taken it apart mid-way through. The spring had bounced from between your fingertips and ended up halfway across the room. Your professor was a real bitch, and hadn’t let you retrieve the piece until every single person had already left and finished. You passed the exam, but not by much, and you blamed your grade on the fact that you had to finish it with a purple gel pen that was less than special. You wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Leaving your room behind, you walked to the classroom that you’d be sitting the exam in. It wasn’t a building you were familiar with, and so you packed an extra ten minutes into your schedule to avoid being late. Flowers had started to bloom in the bushes, and the grass was so much greener then it had been in the dead of winter, but there was no comfort to be sought in this environment. Your university was fine, albeit a bit bland, but Westview had become your home. You thought Wanda’s flowers smelled sweeter then the ones planted here, and the grass in their yard was the brightest shade of green you’ve ever seen. You don’t know how they have the time to take such tender care with their plants, but it made sense for them. They were busy women, women with a fast paced life and career, but there were still mundane rituals that clung to their routine. Before the contract, it had been almost impossible to imagine CEO and world-class lawyer Natasha Maximoff taking out the trash, but now you know she does it every Wednesday. It was also impossible to imagine Wanda Maximoff on her knees and covered in mud, there was never even a wrinkle in her business attire when she returned from the office after sixteen hour days, but now you’re privy to the fact that she doesn’t shy away from getting dirty when she tends to the weeds in her garden. It’s the simple things that make their company so much better then what you’ve found at Sword University, but no matter how much you wish you could be in Westview with them, no amount of heel clicking could take you there.

When you found the exam room, you noted that it was unpleasantly cold, and you cursed at your inability to have remembered to bring along a sweatshirt like Natasha had suggested. There was no consistency at school, some classrooms were blisteringly hot and you could work up a sweat in minutes just from sitting still, and some were so cold your fingers forgot how to function. It didn’t matter the season, or if you simply walked down the hallway, the temperature was never the same and it varied from room to room. You chose a desk near the windows. Not right next to them, knowing that it would get too hot if you were pressed right beside the uncovered sun, but close enough to still feel the lick of warmth as the golden beams of daylight nipped at your skin. It didn’t take much longer for your peers to start flooding in, and their presence brought another factor of warmth to the room, though it wasn’t much and some who hadn’t been lucky enough to find a seat near the windows shivered. You smiled at the familiar face of a student who had claimed the seat next to you. You didn’t have many friends, didn’t see the point in socializing when your focus needed to be academic, but you had grown fond of a few of the faces you saw every week.

“This your last exam?” Monica Rambeau asked you, leaning in closer to your desk so that you wouldn’t have to shout over the other students in the room. You had seen her around since your very first class in freshman year, and you quickly became reliant on each other for notes if one of you happened to be sick and needed to miss a lecture you shared. Your major was complex, not entirely science related but not entirely separate either. You wanted to focus more on security and technology, but for some reason your school demanded that all computer science majors take chemistry and physics. Monica was good at both, you were not. She had saved your ass with her color coded notes too many times to ever ignore her small-talk.

“Thankfully.” You laughed, tapping your pen against your desk anxiously. “I’m moving the rest of my shit out next week and then I’m spending the summer in Westview. What about you?”

The brunette shook her head, and you winced in sympathy. As grueling as it had been to have most of your exams scheduled in the same week, save for the three classes that had requested papers and projects from you, it was nice to be done so soon into the exam period. You knew that some other unfortunate students would be stuck here for at least another week. “I have two more tomorrow, then I’m heading back to Louisiana. You ready for this?”

“Not at all.” You laughed, though your jittery leg and fidgeting fingers easily gave away just how anxious you were. “Sitwell hasn’t made sense a day in his life, I doubt the exam will be any more coherent than his lectures.”

Monica laughed loudly at your acquisition, but she nodded eagerly in agreement. “Tell me about it. I’ve been going over your study sheet for the last two weeks and I think I just barely understand the content from chapter one.”

Your attention snapped to the door when it snapped open again, but unlike the last handful of times, it wasn’t a student that entered, it was your Professor Jasper Sitwell himself, and in his hands were thick bundles of paper that would determine the next year of your life. If you failed this exam, you could kiss your paid for tuition goodbye. You appreciated Monica’s attention to body language, because she seemed to get the hint that you were in no mood to continue your conversation now that Sitwell had arrived. She still offered you a smile though, a whispered ‘good luck’, before she turned straight in her desk and placed three colored pens down firmly. Leave it to Monica to remain dedicated to her color coding even at the end of the semester.

The time had flown by after that. You’d groaned when you saw that the estimated time of this exam would be four hours, but now you felt like that wasn’t nearly enough. The first six pages of questions had come easily to you, though it was still challenging and you doubted that most of your answers were entirely correct, but the last page had stumped you rather quickly and entirely. You jumped between questions, filling in pieces of information when they came to mind, but nothing could jog your memory when you were confronted with the very last question of the exam. Your brows furrowed, a sheen of perspiration clung to your skin. Was it a trick question? No, a professor wouldn’t purposefully stump you when so much was on the line. Despite your confidence in Sitwell, you’re absolutely certain that you’ve never gone over any materials that even slightly relate to the last topic. You’ve read the textbook forward and backwards, you practically dreamed about this course material, but you had never seen these words present in any of the lectures.

Your hand shot up from the desk before you could stop yourself, but by time you realized you were seeking attention from Sitwell, he had called you up to the front of the room. A glance at the clock on the wall beside the door told you there was just under twenty minutes left. By this point in an exam, most students would have been gone, but every single one of them still remained, and although you weren’t intentionally looking at anyone’s paper, the few that you had seen had all been open on the last page. You weren’t the only one confused.

“How can I help you, Ms. Y/L/N?” Sitwell kept his voice quiet, and like always, detached. You wondered how a man who seemed to hate every person even remotely younger than himself had found a profession in teaching, but you didn’t let his attitude deter you from asking anyway. This question could very easily make you seem like an idiot, but you were confident in yourself, and well, Jasper Sitwell seemed exactly the type to make a mistake like this.

Matching his quiet tone, assuring that only the first row of students could hear you, you laid your exam in front of him and pointed out the question. “This isn’t related to your course, sir. It’s not in the textbook, and we’ve never gone over it in a lecture.”

You waited for the moment he berated you for questioning his exam but it never came. When you grew the balls to look up at him, you found a smirk of satisfaction on his lips. “You’re correct. That question has no value in this course. It’s been on my exam for the last ten years and nobody has ever questioned me. Congratulations, Ms. Y/L/N, it seems somebody has finally read the textbook.”

A look of sheer bewilderment crossed your face, but Sitwell gave you no chance to speak again before he promptly took the exam from your hands and kept it at his side. Anxiety shot through your stomach when you realized that he wasn’t going to give it back to you. There was still thirteen minutes left on the clock, and you’d intended to spend every last second meticulously checking your work until he had to pry it from your fingertips when time ran out. So much could be wrong about your answers, you could’ve missed a question or twenty, and now you’d have no way of knowing because he wouldn’t give it back.

“Be on your way.” He nodded toward the door when you didn’t budge. There was no use arguing with him, he never listened anyways, but you couldn’t just walk away without checking over your paper one last time.

“Sir, I still have time to go over my answers.” You weakly protested, a single palm extended in the direction of your exam, hoping that for once he was willing to budge. No luck, his jaw clenched and his eyes hardened, and you took that as a sign to get the hell out of dodge before he did something drastic like rip your exam in half. You would never be taking another class from him again, if you even got the chance to finish your degree.

With a sigh of defeat, you headed back to your desk, collected your lucky pen, and waved subtly in Monica’s direction before you headed to the door and broke away from anything and everything even remotely related to academics for the next three months.

Ever since childhood, you have adored the sight of the sun in the spring and summer months. Not in the middle of the day when it was blinding and heavy, but toward the approach of night when everything it’s surface could touch was brightened by ripples of violet and peach presence. Tonight had been the first expanse of light across the shoretown the Maximoff’s lived in, and though they’d both been home all day with a rare break from office obligations, their cars were warm to the touch when you passed by them in the driveway.

Despite the warm air and lingerance of sunshine off in the horizon, your disposition was reflective of the colder times when attitudes clashed and people let themselves fall inward. You’d been blind to the change in mood as a child. There was no bad time of year when you were seven and strangers stopped to compliment your velcro shoes as they passed, but now that adulthood had claimed what remained of your innocence, you’d been shown the true nature of winter and fall. The first time you realized that strangers were nicer in the summer, you’d been fifteen. Admittedly, that was a bit old to only just be realizing that life was cruel and people were snobs, but you’d always been an optimist; you still are an optimist. You vowed to never become someone so mean after that day, but that was yet another promise you had failed to keep for yourself.

Your face is set in a permanent scowl, which seems to be the new normal as Wanda and Natasha move about around you. Your arms are crossed in front of your chest, your eyes staring straight ahead of you at the movie that’s playing in the background. They’re attempting to get the house straightened up, something about hosting a barbeque over the weekend and not wanting to leave the mess to deal with at a later date. Had you been in a better mood, you would’ve offered to help, would’ve laughed and joked along with them, but the unknown of your last exam has firmly pushed you over the edge and now every minor inconvenience is working on your last available nerve.

Wanda laughs at something Natasha whispers in her ear, the two of them somehow always finding a reason to gravitate toward one another despite the many different tasks that still needed to be accomplished. You didn’t think the house was as messy as Wanda claimed, but you hadn’t offered her that briefest sentence of reassurance. When you walked in, defeat heavy on your shoulders as you over analyzed the exchange between yourself and Professor Sitwell, you’d wanted nothing more than to fall into Natasha’s lap and let her distract you however she saw fit. She had, for a couple minutes at least, but then she’d pushed you out of her embrace and had started helping Wanda around the house. The Sokovian was practically on a mission to regain some order, dusting bookshelves and tables, collecting stray blankets that had made their way into the living room and across random furniture pieces. It hadn’t looked messy, just lived in, but that wasn’t good enough.

“Can you lift your feet for a second?” The taller of the pair looked at you expectantly, the neck of their expensive vacuum clutched between her ringed fingers. She hadn’t been the slightest bit deterred by your poor attitude when you came barreling into the house and hadn’t even offered her so much as a hello before you plopped down in Natasha’s lap and dug your face into her neck, and she had even let you put your feet up on her coffee table when eventually the Russian left your side start cleaning. She had been very patient with you, knowing how nervous you were about the exam and your results, but much like yours, her patience wasn’t unlimited. “I asked you a question, I expect an answer.”

You huffed, readjusting yourself on the couch, though you still didn’t move your legs out of her way. Natasha watched the scene unfold with an uninterpretable expression in her eyes. She was aware of how you’d been testing Wanda more and more as the weeks went by, and she had warned you that it was only a matter of time before the woman snapped and dealt with your attitude by her own measures. Three weeks ago, that would’ve been enough to scare you into submission, but you had shrugged off her warning to stop pushing boundaries, entirely uninterested in the conversation she was trying to have.

Wanda sighed and let go of the vacuum, resting it against the couch to be grabbed again later. You’d expected her to move onto a different task, maybe even march her way upstairs until you changed your attitude, but when her hands grabbed at your ankles and harshly removed them from the coffee table, you gasped in shock and flinched away from her touch, a glare settled in her direction.

“Stop!” You whined, kicking your foot out in her direction as a weak attempt at retaliation, but you made no attempt to put them back on the coffee table. Instead, you extended them outward, taking up almost the entire length of the couch. Not that it mattered, neither one of them were planning on sitting down with you anytime soon. Wanda quirked an eyebrow down at you, an expression that you were getting seriously tired of, before she reached for the remote and turned off the television. “I was watching that!” You cried out in annoyance, reaching for the remote that was held away from your hands.

“Good girls get to watch movies.” She simply stated and handed the remote over to Natasha, who seemed to know exactly where it needed to go. The remote was promptly placed on one of the highest shelves in the room, and the fact that it had been done on purpose because she knew you wouldn’t be able to reach that high without a stool only angered you further.

“So what? You’re gonna ground me? I’m not a child.” You snapped at her, your voice tinged with what could only be described as pure venom. The snarky comments you’d been making for days seemed like child's play now, at least then you’d had the decency to show her some semblance of respect, but now, there wasn’t an ounce of anything kind in your tone.

“If you’re going to act like one, I’m going to treat you like one. I have been more than patient with you, even though you’re being nothing short of a brat. My willingness to ignore your little attitude will not last much longer, so I suggest you get over yourself before I have you over my lap.” Her words should’ve scared you, they should’ve worked as a last ditch effort to get you to behave, but if anything, it only spurred you on further. You were beyond the point of simply wanting some kind of punishment. Unlike in recent days when it had been a tickle at the back of your mind, now you desperately needed it. The end of the semester always felt like the biggest relief until it actually came, and you were left with no productive purpose to fulfill. You needed a push in the right direction, and now that you had been introduced to this dynamic, where Natasha was more than willing to make decisions for you and take care of you, you wanted to fall right into that state of comfort and control. Your mind wouldn’t let you stop thinking though, and no matter how hard you pleaded with yourself to just let her take the reins, control would not be so easily relinquished. It had been weeks since your last spanking. Days since the last time she had fucked you hard enough to cause you to slip into subspace. For months you’d been shown and taught about the beauty of this dynamic, and it was just suddenly beginning to fall away. You knew that you didn’t need to be naughty to receive a spanking, knew that if you asked she’d be more than happy to provide it, but you didn’t want to need her just to feel content. It was like a double-edged sword had rammed its way into your brain and every time you turned your head you fought between completely surrendering control and always maintaining it.

“If I’m a brat then you’re a bitch.” You met Wanda’s stare, there was no backing down now. You were so close to what you wanted, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to care that it wasn’t Natasha you were seeking it from. Ever since that night curled up in her arms when the world felt like it was ending, something was undeniably different. You didn’t want to crave her but you did, and the longer she refused to play into your games, the more you wanted her. She was scary when she was mad, terrifying when she was livid, but somehow you had crossed both of those thresholds in only one sentence. There was something dark in her eyes that you’d never seen before, and it made your stomach twist into knots knowing that you were the sole reason she had lost her happy spark. She radiated dominance, expelled the radiant energy of someone who knew they had control, even if for the briefest second, you had been foolish enough to think you were the one with it. It wasn’t anger or frustration in her eyes, although they were both present, but rather dominance. You’d seen her be dominant, you’d been scolded by her many times, but it had always been concealed. She had always remained respectful of your boundaries and control to Natasha only, but you had pushed her too far. Things had changed too much. Neither of you were the women you had been at the start of this situation, and it was only a matter of time before the carpet rolled beneath your feet and you had to face the music.

“Get upstairs.” She demanded of you, and for the first time since showing up, you didn’t have the words to fight. You scrambled off the couch and practically flew toward the stairs, only to stop halfway up when you realized you didn’t know where she wanted you to go.

“Our bedroom, honey.” Natasha called after you, having watched the entire thing unfold. Now that you realized what position you had walked yourself into, there was anxiety flooding your desperate gaze as you pleaded with her to save you. Natasha wouldn’t save you this time though. She had warned you, told you that you wouldn’t like the trap you were walking yourself into, but you hadn’t listened. “I’ll be up to talk with you in a second, it’s okay.”

“Y/N, if you are not in that room in the next twenty seconds, I will not be so kind as to give you the choice about what I spank your ass with.” Wanda’s voice was level, it didn’t waver like you knew yours would if you even dared to try and speak. You nodded frantically, scrambling to get up the stairs and into their bedroom before the countdown in your head got down to zero.

You didn’t know what to do once you were inside, didn’t know if you should close the door or leave it open, didn’t know if you should sit on the bed or continue to stand beside it. You’d never been alone in their bedroom, it felt like an odd invasion of privacy now that you were. Your mind reeled with endless possibilities, though none of them pleasant. Wanda was going to spank you, she had practically promised that, but what else would she do? Would she make you terminate your contract with Natasha because you’d called her a bitch? Would she slap you around like your father had done when you’d ever dared to disrespect him so aggressively? Tears pricked your eyes at all of your unanswered questions, and you noted that this feeling in your belly was distinctly different then the times when Natasha pulled you over her lap. You’d gotten a handful of punishments before, of course you have because even though you like being good for her, it’s still fun to act out, but those punishments had always been light with the unspoken promise of sexual relief afterward. This was the first time you’d ever actually been punished outside of sexual interactions. This was the first time you’d ever pissed Wanda off enough to be the one who dealt the cards. So much was changing and you couldn’t keep up, but really there was nothing for you to keep up with. You didn’t know what would happen next, you had never been in this situation before.

The floorboards creaked beneath footsteps, and you noted that just beyond the window not covered by blinds, the sunshine had finally settled. Nothing was left to see beside darkened skies and the roofs of all of the other houses on the block, though even then the sight was void of any actual interest. The Maximoff residence was the largest on the block, and it towered over the houses that sat on both sides of it. You’d always thought that CEO’s lived in big lavish mansions, but Wanda and Natasha had chosen a perfectly normal town to settle down in. They had expensive cars, sure, but that wasn’t even a fraction of the money they had. They were total anomalies, and that fact was only making you grow more uneasy.

“Detka.” Natasha sighed, and you were thankful it was only her that had entered. Had Wanda been with her, you would’ve spiral face down into a panic attack that couldn’t be stopped. “I warned you, did I not?”

You sighed, knowing that there was no time for her to give you all the reassurances you needed. Wanda was being kind enough to let Natasha check in on you, but you doubted she had the patience to sit downstairs for hours as you pleaded with your dominant to give you answers even she didn’t have. “J-Just tell me what’s gonna happen. I need to know what’s going to happen.”

“She’s going to spank you, and then she’s going to hold you, and reassure you that you’re okay. No different from what I do. Are you okay with her spanking you? I know we’ve talked about it, but this isn’t the funishment you thought you’d be getting when we agreed to those conditions, huh?” Natasha collected you into her arms, being surprisingly gentle with you despite the fact that you had just called her wife a bitch. You shook your head against her chest, fisting her loose fitting t-shirt in your heads, fearing that she would pull away far too early for your liking.

“I wanted you to spank me.” You admitted sheepishly into her touch, sighing softly when her fingers tangled into your hair and gently worked out the knots that lingered near the ends. “I’ve been good and you’ve been… soft. And I just can’t get my brain to be quiet, and I wanted you to spank me so I kept trying to push your buttons and you just kept forgiving me.”

“Daddy’s been pretty lenient with you, hasn’t she?” Natasha cooed, not placing blame on your shoulders even though you knew she very easily could have. You nodded in response to her question, feeling better now that she was aware of the root cause of your attitude, even if that didn’t save you from Wanda’s wrath. “You’ve been breaking a lot of rules, rules that Wanda’s aware of.”

“She’s gonna give me ten for every one, isn’t she?” You winced, knowing that this would not be a pleasant experience and your ass was sure to hurt every time you sat down for at least the next week.

“She is, and it’s going to hurt. It’s supposed to hurt, but she’s not going to push you farther than you can handle. What do you call if you need a break?” Natasha asked sweetly, pulling your face away from her chest and holding your cheeks in her hands, forcing you to look up into her eyes and see that there's no lingering resentment or anger.

“Yellow.” You answered, the word engraved in your brain despite having never needed to call it. “Red if I need it to stop completely. But… we’re not playing.”

“Just because she’s not going to touch you after doesn’t mean that it’s okay for her to break you, detka. Is that what you thought was going to happen?” Natasha frowns, her lips turning deeper downward when you nodded as an answer.

“My dad… punished me with violence. He didn’t stop until he wanted to. You’ve only ever punished me sexually, not because I purposely broke the outside rules.” You whispered, another hint at your traumatic past hanging in the air. “I called her a bitch. I tried to kick her. I pushed her in the store yesterday.” You admitted, though when there was no reaction, you guessed that Wanda had already told her.

“Because you needed space. She is not going to punish you for that. She’s going to punish you because you were being disrespectful, and because you need it, huh? You need help getting that brain to shut off. You did so many big things this week, I bet it’s not that easy to just come back to this dynamic and allow us to take control when you’ve been the one in charge all week.” Natasha whispered knowingly, a glint in her eyes that reassured you of her understanding. “Finals are stressful. When Wanda and I were in college, we used to go at each other until we were red in the face and then we’d move on like nothing happened. We get it, milaya. We don’t expect you to be good at this yet, or to know how to ask for what you need. You can stop thinking the world is going to end because you made a mistake.”

“I meant to call her a bitch, but I didn’t actually mean it.” You admitted softly and Natasha chuckled, pulling you in closer and laying a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“We both know what you meant, malyshka. She’s not downstairs brewing in anger, even though I’m sure that’s what you’re thinking. This dynamic is not about fear and power. I should’ve explained that better. You have all the power here, honey, but just like you can call red, so can she. It’s a balance, a team effort. You got it?”

“I got it.” You sighed, leaning into her touch, wishing you could just surrender to this moment for the rest of your life, but there was no way that was happening. As daunting as it was, you needed Wanda to punish you. You want to let go of the guilt, you want to relinquish control and just listen to what they ask of you. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one you need to be apologizing to, but it’s okay. You did nothing wrong, even if I don’t exactly like you calling my wife a bitch.” She teased, her fingers leaving your cheeks to trail down toward your ribs where she knows your ticklish. You shrieked in response, wiggling away from her fingers just in time for Wanda to knock on the open bedroom door and announce her presence.

She was significantly calmer then she had been downstairs, and that faint lick of anger in her eyes had settled to dust, but she still captivated you and sought for your submission. Her eyes were green, you forced yourself to remember that fact. They weren’t overcome with blackness like all the other times you’ve awaited punishment, but thoughts of your childhood didn’t even come to mind as you let yourself be present in this moment. This was not your childhood. The second you needed this to stop, or you needed her to slow down, you had to say one simple word and it would. As much as this act was about you giving over control, you knew that the reality was you would never be fully powerless.

You didn’t know what to say, if you should even say anything at all, so you merely waved your hand in Wanda’s direction, not wanting to completely ignore her. She smiled softly at you, not softening her body language, but at least her face mirrored your greeting.

“Hi, malen’kaya.” She laughed softly, and you were relieved to find that Natasha had been being honest about Wanda not brewing in her anger, though you hadn’t really doubted her, just needed that validation for yourself. “You talk to Natty?”

“Mmhm.” You nodded your head, unaware of how your hand still tangled in the fabric of Natasha’s t-shirt gripped onto her harshly. It was an unconscious thing, but was quickly soothed by a kiss being placed into your hairline.

“I’m gonna be right here, ангел. If I think you need to call red and you’re not doing it yourself, I’m going to call it. Nothing bad is going to happen.” She promised, and you felt better at the proposition that she’d be looking out for you as well.

“That was quite the show you put on downstairs.” Wanda mused, her face back to that blank slate of dominance that made your palms clammy. You stepped closer to Natasha, just barely managing to nod your head at her admission. “Come with me.”

“Go ahead, I’ll still be here.” Natasha sent you toward Wanda with a gentle shove, and when you looked back at her over your shoulder, she merely smiled in reassurance.

Wanda led you over to the walk-in closet You’d never been inside, but you’d seen Natasha disappear into it after a scene, usually when she was scrounging around to find a specific cooling lotion for your ass. Wanda didn’t make any efforts to invade your space, giving you time to accept your fate on your own accord. The space was large, and there were no shortage of dresses and suits hung up on the taller racks. You smiled softly at a purple suit in the corner, wondering which of the two women it belonged to.

“That’s Natasha’s.” Wanda hummed, seeming to follow your eye toward the suit. “That’s not why we're in here though.”

You nodded, pulling your eye away from the suit in favor of following whatever box Wanda was pointing out. It was large and black, one of the only objects in the closet that looked like it didn’t really belong. She walked over to it, getting down on her knees and motioning for you to do the same.

“I can either spank you with my hand, or with a paddle.” You swallowed thickly at your options, but nodded your head and looked down at the case that Wanda had pulled open. Your eyes practically bulged out of your head at the sight of so many sex toys, but Wanda merely laughed at your flushed cheeks. “Natasha isn’t much a fan of being paddled. It stings and will burn for longer than a hand spanking does, but she has received plenty of both.” There’s a tinge of fond exasperation in Wanda’s words that make you think Natasha is better at asking for what she needs than you are, and that most of the spankings Wanda’s internally recounting aren’t all derived from punishment. You remember the conversation you had weeks ago, where Wanda had confirmed that Natasha was the submissive in their relationship.

“I don’t want that.” You whispered, shaking your head adamantly. “Never.”

“Okay. That’s perfectly okay. Not everyone likes instruments being used for a spanking. This is the lotion I’m going to put on you afterward. It’s the same one Natasha uses, but I want you to know what to expect.” Wanda gives you the bottle, and you don’t even bother to look down at it, entirely focused on her face. There’s something different about her like this, so easily dominant and captivating, you want to commit this new energy to memory. “You’re going to get fifty spanks. If you need to slow down, or if you need to stop, I expect that you call your safewords. If I need to stop, I’m going to call mine. Part of your punishment is that you will not be receiving an orgasm afterward. You're lucky I haven’t taken them away for the next week.”

You gulped, suddenly remembering that this was a punishment, although you didn’t know how you could have forgotten that fact. Wanda smirked in amusement at your flushed features, and tenderly she reached up to smoothing stray strands of hair away from your face. “Can I kiss you?” She asked quietly, and although it was Wanda not Natasha, you nodded eagerly. You didn’t hate her, you didn’t dislike her, you wanted her just as badly as you wanted Natasha. You didn’t know how you’d been so blind to that fact for so long. “Words, detka.”

“Yes.” You breathed out, already leaning into her touch when she set her hands on your cheeks and pulled your face into hers. Her lips were soft beneath yours, softer than Natasha’s, and she tasted like the fakest cherries. Her tongue swiped across your bottom lip, asking for entrance rather than demanding it. You didn’t hesitate to let her in, moaning softly into her mouth when her hot and heavy tongue licked against yours and officially claimed you the way you had seen it do to Natasha on a handful of occasions.

You don’t know how many minutes had passed as you sat on the floor of the walk-in closet, but when Wanda finally pulled away from you, her chest rising and falling faster than it had been before, your cheeks were flush for more than one reason.

“You can’t kiss me like that after you tell me I’m not allowed to cum tonight.” You whined softly, squirming on the floor as your arousal made its presence known between your legs. Wanda laughed in amusement, a dangerous smirk playing on her lips.

“I guess little girls need to learn how to behave if they want something from Mommy then.” The softest inch of her accent had drifted into the words, and if that wasn’t enough to send a rush of pleasure straight to your core, the added bonus of her title was. You whined desperately, your thighs rubbing together as you sought out even a second of relief. Flashes of Natasha teasing you on the phone came to mind, and the lust in your eyes only intensified. “Enough.” Wanda scolded, “I want you naked and bent over the bed in the next three minutes.”

You nodded obediently, having done enough arguing for the night. You got to your feet with the same grace as bambi, practically bolting out of the closet and into the bedroom. You giggled softly when you realized that your first kiss with the lawyer who was very proudly a lesbian had been in a closet of all places.

“There’s no way whatever happened in that closet deserves to be laughed about.” Natasha quirked an eyebrow in your direction, though it was significantly less scary then when Wanda did it. She watched you strip out of your clothes hurriedly, not sparing the few minutes you had been given to fold them nicely in a pile.

“Your wife is a lesbian.” You deadpanned, though you knew Natasha was very much aware of that fact if the felt pride flag in what you assumed was Wanda’s side of the closet had ever caught her attention.

“Yes, thank you for stating the obvious.”

“And she just kissed me in the closet.” You giggled, and Natasha couldn’t say that she wasn’t equally as amused as you were, but she had the decency to control her laughter in front of Wanda, who you hadn’t even realized was standing right behind you.

“If you don’t want me to add another ten onto your fifty, you’ll bend your ass over my bed and stop making me wait.” Your blood went cold and your spine straightened as you felt the softest trace of Wanda’s warm breath against the shell of your ear. The warning didn’t need to be whispered twice, because you were already scrambling to get into position, a lot less nervous then you had been before. “I want you to count them all. If you miss one, I add two more.”

“Okay.” You whispered, already fisting the comforter in your hands, waiting for the first strike to land against your uncovered ass. You didn’t even have it in your to be embarrassed about Wanda seeing you so exposed, just wanting to get this situation over with so that you could fall face first into Natasha’s chest.

“Is that how we address our dominants now?” Wanda practically growled, standing so closer to you that you could feel the heat of her body radiating onto yours.

“Yes, Mommy.” You fixed your mistake, your eyes pinched closed as you pushed your hips backward until they met her thighs, unconsciously seeking relief for your clit that was pulsing between your legs. You shrieked in surprise when she abruptly stepped away and laid the first hit onto your left cheek in only a matter of seconds. It didn’t take a genius to know that Wanda was well practiced in this domain. The spank was hard, significantly harder then Natasha had ever started out with, and you knew you were in for it with the promise of forty-nine more to come. “One, Mommy.”

Your grip on the comforter got tighter and tighter with each spank that came next until your knuckles were white and your chin trembled from the onslaught of pain. At the thirteenth spank, you moaned in pleasure, and your hips bucked backward desperately searching for pressure between your thighs that never came and wouldn’t come. Wanda’s laughter was anything but genuine behind you, and you didn’t even want to imagine what you must look like to her; bent over the bed she shares with her wife, your ass pink from the assault of her palm, and arousal dampening the insides of your thighs.

“So much for not having a pain kink.” She mused, though she wasn’t really talking to you. Natasha was sitting at the head of the bed with a smug gleam in her eyes, and you knew the sight of you like this was turning her on, if the dilation in her pupils was any indication of that fact. “Little slut is dripping.” You gasped when soft fingers ran over your ass, dipping lower and lower until they found your empty entrance that begged for anything to fill it, be it a dildo or the fingers of the woman who was responsible for pushing you into this state. “Do you like when Mommy hits you?”

“Yes.” You whine, not even attempting to keep your hips still as Wanda collects your arousal on the tips of her fingers, but like promised, never reaches your clit. You cried out your protests when her fingers left your core, only for you to gasp in shock when she leaned forward on the bed and fed them expectantly to Natasha who let her mouth fall open in acceptance.

The redhead moaned at the taste of you on her tongue, lapping at Wanda’s fingers until they were clean of your excitement. A needy moan left your lips seeing the blissful expression on the face of your dominant, and desperately you reached out for her hand that laid next to yours overtop of the white blankets on the bed. She let you grasp it, let you squeeze it and pull at it, but she never leaned in any closer to you. This was a punishment, you would not be rewarded midway through.

Wanda’s additional weight caused the bed to dip, and you had to readjust your stance to keep from slipping onto the floor. She wasn’t behind you anymore, rather perched on the bed beside your body, leaning in close to her wife whose lips shone in the dim lighting of the room with traces of your arousal. Wanda kissed her deeply, the wet sounds their moving mouths made taunting you further, and you groaned in response to their teasing. The lawyer who hadn’t even gotten halfway through your punishment moaned at the taste of you on her tongue, only pulling away from Natasha when she needed a break for air.

She was back behind the second she was breathing normally, and the fourteenth spank came in the same place her thirteenth one had. You counted out the spanks as they came, but other than the contact her palm made with your ass, you were properly ignored. If Wanda made a comment, it was directed to Natasha, and the one time you had been bold enough to answer for yourself, you had been met with a spank to the back of your thigh that was admittedly very soft and careful.

It was after twenty that you no longer found pleasure in her hits, and your moans and whines had turned to cries and sobs. Natasha held your hand firmly, her thumb rubbing against your knuckles as you took your punishment well. Wanda was proud of you, even if she hadn’t told you that yet.

“F-forty!” You sobbed out, arching away from the lawyer's hand only seconds after it came down on your ass. Your entire body ached from the position you were half-stood in, your cunt pulsed with need, but your ass was on fire and you had no doubt that it would be bruised by sunrise tomorrow. “Please.” You cried out, but you didn’t even know what you were begging for.

“You’re doing so good. You’re doing so good for me, milaya.” Wanda soothed you quickly and effectively, her tone soft and gentle as she let you have your feelings. The heavy hand that had been assaulting your skin for the last twenty minutes if the clock on her bedside table was accurate was suddenly soft as she rubbed soft circles on your ass, soothing the sting into a more bearable ache. “Ten more and then we can cuddle. Why don’t you let Natty’s hand go and she’ll go get you some water.”

“N-No! No! Natty stay!” You held onto her desperately, like even the suggestion of her leaving would make it come true.

“I’m staying, malyshka. I’m staying.” Natasha assured you, scooting closer to your trembling body so she could lay a hand on your naked back, her firm touch grounding you in this moment where both of your dominants were with you. “You’re okay. You’re being so good. Such a good girl. Ten more baby, think you can do that?”

You nodded albeit weakly, and Wanda took that as her sign to keep going, to get this over with so that she could put her efforts into comforting you. It was on the last spank that you had crumbled completely, going limp against the bed as you sobbed in relief. You made the decision that you never wanted to piss Wanda off to this extent again.

“Good girl. You were so good. Took your spanking so well.” Wanda helped you stand up, spinning you around so that her eyes could meet yours for the first time in half an hour.

“Mommy.” You sobbed, falling face first into her chest, clutching the fabric of her shirt in your trembling fists. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You repeated it like a mantra, sobs and sniffles the only other audible sound that you could hear. You didn’t recognize Wanda praising you for taking your punishment so well, you didn’t hear her whisper of a promise that it was over and you were forgiven. You hadn’t even realized that Natasha had promptly left the bedroom and gone down to the kitchen to retrieve water and a snack if you wanted it.

“Hey, hey. Look at me, look at Mommy.” Wanda coaxed your attention up at her, pulling your face out of the pit of darkness you had found against her chest. “You’re okay. It’s over. It’s all over.”

You nodded weakly, letting Wanda guide you into the middle of the bed and onto your belly. As promised, she rubbed the cooling lotion into your skin, mumbling soft praises beneath her breath whenever you flinched away from the contact. The soft cooling effect hadn’t taken long to set in, and when it did, it was like an immediate sense of relief had washed over your senses, though everything was still foggy and far away. You only barely recognized Natasha sitting down beside you, but you whined in protest when she tried to pull you into her side, reaching out to Wanda with a pleading look in your eyes that neither one of them could ignore.

It hurt to sit, that was putting it lightly, but you forced yourself up into a sitting position so that you could accept the bottle of water Natasha offered. She held it up to your lips as you gulped it down quickly, finishing half the bottle before she pulled it away, worried that you’d upset your stomach if you drank it all so quickly. Wanda had laid down beside you, forcing you onto her chest to alleviate the discomfort in your bottom. With your head on her chest, your legs between hers, your eyes searched for Natasha as she moved around the room, collecting pajamas and a wet washcloth that would be used to clean up the unfixed mess between your legs.

The first pass of the warm fabric between your legs had rubbed against your clit accidentally, and you moaned in pleasure that was quickly taken away. “Sorry, sweetheart. Not tonight.” She shushed your cries softly, though it didn’t make you any happier. You wiggled against Wanda at the uncomfortable feeling you weren’t used to being left with, and she didn’t try to stop you from rubbing your legs together.

“Tomorrow.” She whispered against your temple when you grew frustrated at not being able to fully satisfy the ache. “The more you move the worse it’s going to get. Mommy will take care of you tomorrow, just rest for right now. Close your eyes, detka.”

When Wanda’s finger attempted to wipe the fallen tears off your cheeks, you were quick to capture the finger between your teeth, and she didn’t even stop you. She smiled down at your flushed face, feeling more than content with your current clinginess. She knew you were down pretty far in that floaty headspace Natasha managed to ease you into every so often, and pride swelled in her chest knowing you were comfortable enough to allow her the privilege of not only seeing you this way, but making you this way.

“Ten bucks says she doesn’t leave your side tomorrow.” Natasha had hummed softly once she was sure you were asleep, only half dressed in the pajamas she had pulled out of the dresser for you. The shorts on your legs were a pair of hers, but you had been adamant against her putting the t-shirt on your body when you realized it entailed pulling away from Wanda’s chest.

Wanda rolled her eyes, though there was a fond smile on her lips that gave away her true feelings about this shift in your dynamic. Not perfect, but getting there. “I’m not making a deal, I know I’ll lose, Romanoff.”

“It’s Maximoff. Or did you forget?” Natasha quirked an auburn eyebrow, mirroring the expression Wanda had mastered after years of practice. She leaned over your body, careful not to jostle you too much and rouse you from slumber, and she kissed her wide softly, though the taste of your arousal still clung to her taste buds, and when Wanda realized, she shoved her away.

“If you keep kissing me when you taste like her I’ll never be taken seriously again.” The Sokovian warned, already addicted to the taste of your arousal, though she took punishment seriously, and it wouldn't be until the early afternoon settled overtop of Westview tomorrow when you found out just how good she is with her tongue.

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kissedsuns · 19 days

Note

Hi can request being fingered by charles, he’s just holding you down in his lap not letting you squirm to much, thank you 💗

warnings! f!reader, fingering, very mild dacryphilia, mean!charles, teasing, slight praise & degradation.

you were already treading on thin ice when you used that bratty tone with him.

the look on poor charles' face when you raised your voice, ranting about something he couldn't care less about, only for you to end up thrown over his shoulder like a ragdoll.

"c'mon, y'know better than that, don't ya?" he teases, effortlessly tossing you onto the mattress.

you're in nothing but a shirt and the tiniest, lace panties, and charles wastes no time. he hooks a finger under the fabric, ripping them off in one swift motion.

your lips part in surprise, a soft gasp slipping out as your hands clutch his biceps, nails digging into his skin. it never takes much for charles to get you going.

"oh, sweetheart..." his voice is frustratingly soft and sugary as he presses lingering kisses to your forehead. "gonna need you to be good f'me. you can do that, right?"

your brain turns to mush the moment his finger plunges deep into your dripping pussy, his touch unrelenting on your poor clit. you buck your hips into his hand helplessly, only to be pushed back down by his forearm that's pressing firmly on your stomach, his other hand gripping your hip tight enough to leave a bruise. a mark you'll stare at in awe next morning.

"yeah, that's it. jus' breathe, okay? breathe through it.."

you thrash and moan as he adds another finger, thrusting them deep into your abused cunt. his fingers work relentlessly, pressing down on your tummy just enough to make you squeeze your eyes shut, babbling dumbly as he just looks down at you with a smile.

"cumming! baby.. 'm gonna cum!" you gasp, your body trembling violently as you cling to his wrist like a lifeline.

"tha's my girl, knew she was in there somewhere," he murmurs, stroking your sad face gently. "did so good for me, didn't you?"

the sudden increase in pressure sends shockwaves of pleasure straight to your puffy clit, ripping a cry from your swollen lips, kissed raw by charles for hours just before.

finally, you reach your climax, and charles is kind enough to let you ride it out, cumming all over his tired fingers. your body trembles as charles guides you through it until you collapse against his chest, exhausted.

"still with me, gorgeous?" he taps your cheek, your head lolling back as your eyes flutter open and shut. the lingering pleasure tingles between your legs, and all you can do is squeeze them together pathetically.

"yeah," is all you're able to sigh out.

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beneathashadytree · 1 month

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A TASTE OF HONEY - SYLUS QIN X READER

Warnings : insecurities & body image issues, chubby & curvy!reader, mentions of stretch marks, body worship, praise kink, marking, very mild breast & nipple play, implied cunnilingus, reader is AFAB and uses she/her pronouns!

Genre : smut n loooots of comfort☹️🫶🏽

Word count : 1.4K words

Additional notes : This was a paid commission I made of a lovely OC with Sylus, and this version is just the slightly more non-specific version I took permission from my commissioner to post, so that all fem!readers can see what my commissions are like! If you’re interested let me know💗

Commissions are open here!

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Masterlist

“Another event, another dress with your name on it, sweetie.” Sylus’ grin as he walked into their bedroom would’ve almost been infectious, had her mood been entirely different than it currently was. Right now, though? His words seemed to have cast a curse onto her.

She had to fight against her growing irritation. It’s not his fault, he didn’t do anything to deserve it—unlike the majority of the times he’d earned her ire. This time, the dismayed feeling in her chest at the sight of the exquisite dress draped onto the back of the dresser’s chair was entirely because of her own racing thoughts.

“Skipping out tonight,” she simply mumbled under her breath, collapsing onto the bed with weary bones and an exhausted expression like she’d run a hundred miles. And she really had, just inside her head.

Sylus—ever perceptive Sylus—frowned at that, taking a seat at the edge of the bed beside her. “Tired?” Concern filled his eyes, and it only grew worse as she seemed to curl in on herself and burrow deeper into the mattress. “I could cancel.”

With a sigh, she shook her head “You’re Onychinus’ leader. You have to be there. My moods shouldn’t dictate whether or not you go.”

“You have the privilege of commanding me to do whatever you want. I say you abuse that right.” It was clear from his teasing tone that he was trying to get a lighthearted reaction from her, and upon receiving none, his voice turned softer. “Seriously, what’s wrong, darling?”

Her grip tightened on the bedsheet, blinking back the tears as she trained her gaze on her fingers. “I just… don’t want to wear that dress.”

Sylus was silent for a few moments, before he nodded. “Okay. Is it not to your liking?”

“Not really.” With a shuddering breath, she sniffled a little, trying to calm herself down as Sylus’ hand gently stroked her calves in a soothing motion. There was no point in getting so worked up after all, it’s always been the same. “Those types of dresses always show my stretch marks. They’re… kind of short. And tight. And weird-looking on me.”

Screw not getting worked up; her tears were dripping down her face at this point, her vision blurry and her heart heavy with each word that spilled forth. “It feels like every single one of these outfits makes my thighs look big, and my body’s not made for wearing them. It’s just… wrong, like I’m unworthy,” she choked on the last word in despair.

She could hear Sylus sighing, a twinge of sadness she’d never heard before lacing his words. “You couldn’t be more wrong.” Firm in tone, yet not unkind, her boyfriend leaned in and rubbed her forearms gently, making sure to meet her watery eyes as he did. “These dresses only show just how breathtaking you are, and how you belong by my side.” A crooked grin made its way on his face. “If anything, it feels like I have to earn my place next to you.”

“No! You—”

“See how absurd it sounds?” His deep voice was soft as he gently nudged her on her back, climbing in on top of her as his fingers delicately brushed back her hair. “I can never get enough of you. Of every inch of you. I almost refuse to believe you.” His gaze grew impossibly softer, voice even quieter, and his hand even gentler as it traced down her ear, rhythmically stroking at her neck. “But I know that really is what you’ve driven yourself to believe. And I can’t blame you for that.”

Wiping at her own cheeks, she tried her best to make herself feel less sorry. “It’s no one’s fault but mine. It’s not like anyone else has been telling these things to me.” What on earth was she doing, crying to him over dresses? Or her appearance at some stupid events? Or was it simply her body? She didn’t know at this point. All she knew was that she wanted to stop feeling so distraught over something so…

Before she could continue that train of thought, Sylus had silenced her rushing brain with a slow, open-mouthed kiss and a steady grip on her waist. Even now, he was ever the tease, nipping at her lower lip and huffing out a fond laugh as he heard her breath hitch, before pulling back. In half-defeat, he said, “Maybe I’m the one to blame for neglecting to remind you of what I think of you.”

He peppered kisses down her jaw and to her neck, his teeth grazing and sucking at the warm skin there. With a hiss, her hand reached out to pull him closer by the back of his head, and all he could breathe out against her was a stilted, “How often I think of you.” Practiced hands almost blindly pulled down the strap of her silk slip for more access, as he left his bold marks across her neck. His hair tickled her, but she reveled in the feeling even more as he traced a path down the top of her breasts.

They were heaving with the effort of having to pretend she wasn’t falling apart at the seams with his mere touch, and he let out a half-groan as his hand reached out to cup one, while he sucked more hickeys onto the flushed skin of the other. It was too much, but somehow not enough to ease the growing ache between her legs. “Sy,” she whispered, a plea in his name, quickly turning into a whimper of pleasure as his tongue boldly flicked at her nipple through the silk. “Don’t be cruel.”

“Mm. I could never. My pretty girl likes it when I indulge her, I know,” he muttered, ruby eyes flicking up to meet hers and pinning her down with just a gaze as he kneaded at her soft breasts through the thin fabric, his touch burning through her like wildfire. “Tell me where you want me. What you want me to do, to show you how I could never stop wanting you and your body.”

Swallowing thickly, her fingers dug into his silvery hair, like it was second nature, guiding him where she needed him the most. “Want your lips on me, please,” she whispered, as if it were explanation enough for the sudden dizzying heat of the room, and her eyes swimming with unwrought desire. “Tell me you want me like this. I… I need it. Need you.”

The chuckle that spilled from Sylus’ lips was lovesick, and then his large palms pushed her smooth slip up to her waist and expertly tugged down the ruined lacy underwear. “As if I could stop wanting someone so divine.” He sweetly kissed her navel, then completely diverted from his path for a second to squeeze at her thighs, hooking them up on his broad shoulders.

Even between her legs, he looked invincible—more so when he maintained their intense, passion-riddled eye contact as he suckled at the skin of her inner thighs. “So sweet, so perfect right in front of me,” he sighed, almost in just as much pleasure as she was while he brushed his thumb back and forth near the apex of her thighs, mapping out every stretch mark under his adoring touch, and giving her hips a firm squeeze as his hands wandered everywhere they could reach.

Her head was filled with cotton, all her senses consumed by him and all he was. “I can spell out just what you want me to say with my tongue instead.” The very prospect of it sent even more molten heat pooling to her core. Sylus’ tongue would be her undoing. She knew it, her body knew it, and his grin that turned wicked meant that he could see perfectly well just how dripping wet the idea made her.

That smirk was almost predatory; like she was his prey, all prepped and prettily pinned for him. It shouldn’t have aroused her so badly, knowing that he’d torture her with sheer blinding pleasure and a sinful tongue, and yet she could feel herself clench around nothing. He was her undoing, and always would be, especially when his voice was such a low purr. “And you can ride my face until you can translate every filthy word. What do you say, sweetie?”

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dollyyun · 5 months

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𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥'𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬' 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐲 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑.𝟐

SYNOPSIS: For some reason, Park Sunghoon utterly despises you ─ how you are the literal definition of a good girl who avoids all sorts of troubles, how you remain loyal and abide by the rules, how you dress modestly, the fact that you're best friends with the popular girls who are his kind of girls, the way your eyes sparkle with fascination, and the dimples on your cheeks whenever you smile or laugh ─ you are every bit of a girl he has no desire to fuck. However, being naturally competitive even against his best friends, he is determined to be the one to break you, poison you with his corruptive ways, and change you for the worse.

PAIRING: park sunghoon x fem!reader

GENRE: 18+ (mdni), college au, semi-adulthood, reverse harem, dark themes.

WORD COUNT: 26.5k+

WARNINGS: mentions of christianity, smoking, alcohol consumption, mention of substances abuse, mild bullying, assault, humiliation, profanities, manipulation, possible violence, tsundere!hoon, smut.

PLAYLIST: Six Feet Under - The Weeknd, Heartless - The Weeknd, Reminder - The Weeknd, Lost in the Fire - The Weeknd, get him back! - Olivia Rodrigo, think later - Tate Mcrae, Swim - Chase Atlantic, Devillish - Chase Atlantic, Soaked - Shy Smith, Swimming Pools - Lloyd, Where Them Girls At - David Guetta ft Nicki Minaj, Agora Hills - Doja Cat.

PREV (PART 3.1) | NEXT (PART 4) ✘ SERIES MASTERLIST ✘

✧*̥˚ SUNGHOON'S MOODBOARD *̥˚✧

-smut warnings under cut-

smut warnings: unprotected sex (no!), pool sex, shower sex, rough-hate sex, meandom!hoon, slight voyeurism, degradation, name calling (slut, bitch, princess), cock-warming, oral, blowjob, handjob, lots of manhandling, hair pulling, choking, 'sir' kink, spitting kink, spanking, markings(hoon has a biting kink), corruption kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, crying, just pure filth, threesome with jakehoon.

Karina offered you a ride with her Range Rover vehicle, along with Winter, Kazuha, and Rei, which you gladly accepted since you would be more comfortable being in the same space as the ones you trusted enough to know about the exact truth of what happened.

The journey to the resort chalet took about an hour and a half since the entirety of the resort world is located on the outskirts of the town, which is also nearby the seaside. Thankfully, the ride wasn’t as dull as you thought it would be. The jovial ambience was infused by laughter, chatter, and even carpool karaoke.

Warmth spreads across your chest while the smile persists on your radiant face. You can’t remember the last time you ever had fun like this, or maybe you haven’t.

“We’re here!” Rei announces gleefully in the backseat whereas you are the passenger princess.

You divert your attention to the window, and you are awestruck by the mere yet remarkable sight of the resort’s entrance as Karina continues to accelerate forward to find the parking lot.

The commotion in the backseat fades out as you decide to bask in silence in an attempt to recharge your social battery to the fullest. Your phone vibrates in your hand, prompting you to glance down to check the newest notification from a certain someone that has you rolling your eyes at.

SUNGHOON: Where are you?

Even through his text, you can discern how demanding he is, eliciting an inaudible sigh from you.

Y/N: Just arrived. Karina is still searching for the parking lot. SUNGHOON: Tell her ass to drive fast Y/N: The more reason I should tell her to take her sweet time. SUNGHOON: You think you’re being cute, don’t you, princess? Just wait until you get here Y/N: On second thought, I’m going to stick around with my friends so you won’t get to me. SUNGHOON: You know you’re not being cute right now Y/N: You’re so annoying. I didn’t claim to be cute. SUNGHOON: Lose the attitude, princess Y/N: And what are you going to do about it if I don’t? SUNGHOON: I’ll fuck the attitude out of you, so don’t test me. Y/N: Whatever. You’re all talk but no action.

You stare at your screen, waiting for his reply, but to your surprise, he doesn’t, bringing a frown to your lips.

Speaking of Sunghoon, you surprisingly managed to hide it with a concealer, thanks to Karina, who freaked out at first but soon came to your rescue. Thankfully, Karina didn’t push you into the details after you briefly explained that you were caught up in the spur of the moment with him.

A part of you feels guilty for not telling her the whole truth, but you don’t want to worry her more than she already is. You have been made well aware by Karina that she doesn’t want to baby you anymore, but her word of advice is for you to be careful.

Just as you have finally arrived at the parking lot, your mind quickly drifts to the conversation you had with Karina in your dorm.

“Since we’re on the topic of Park Sunghoon, you should know that he can be a beast in bed.” Karina’s statement throws you off guard just as you are about to make your way to her bathroom to change into the cute white floral dress. “I heard some things from the girls he slept with in the past. Kind of scared me, not gonna lie.”

You really don’t want to know any details entailing Sunghoon’s lifestyle pertaining to sex, but curiosity is gnawing at you. “Why did it scare you?” You ask tentatively.

“Well, for starters, he’s downright mean, and he’s rough, as in, really rough to the point where he can make you cry real bad, like full on sobbing.” Karina rolls her eyes before resuming to apply the lip gloss to her lips in the vanity mirror. “According to those girls, he lacked basic decency and didn’t bother to provide some aftercare after the mind-blowing sex.”

“Oh….” Is all you can afford to utter. It’s not as if you are looking forward to sleeping with him anytime soon, right? Right…???

Karina continues, almost as if she is expressing her disapproval in the way she speaks, “Just like the other leaders, he has some questionable kinks. Oh! And he’s nasty. Sex with him is painful, but it is the kind of pain you’ll grow to crave, and to me personally, it’s not my type of sex─”

“Okay, okay, I really didn’t need to know all the details!” You cut her off in a ramble, your cheeks flushing pink while something stirs in your core.

“I’m just being a good friend to give you some heads up if you do have plans to sleep with him.” Karina states bluntly before pausing, followed by a loud gasp as she turns around to look at you with a grin, and the expression on her face is as though she has formulated a diabolical plan. “I have a brilliant idea! Why don’t you use Sunghoon for your revenge?”

“Are you crazy?” You give her a bewildered stare. “Have you forgotten that Sunghoon is best friends with Jaeyun?”

“For that very reason, my girl, is exactly why you should use Sunghoon!” Karina beams. “Think about it. If you use any other guys, Jake probably wouldn’t be entirely deterred, but if he sees you with Sunghoon or his other best friends, trust me when I say that your revenge will definitely affect him greatly.”

You begin to contemplate, humming. “You do have a point, but why are you oddly happy about this?” You ask, giving her an odd stare.

“Duhh, it’s because I hate all of the knights. They are all different, but still the same kind of crazy. Plus, I dated one, so I know what it's like.” Karina scoffs lightly. “So you using Sunghoon for your sweet revenge is a stepping stone to breaking the friendship bond between them.”

“It’s kind of risky. I mean, what if Sunghoon gets the hint that I’m using him solely to make Jaeyun jealous? Surely, Sunghoon won’t hesitate to inform Jaeyun of my petty revenge, and subsequently, I’ll be made fun of.” You murmur.

“It won’t hurt to try. Plus, with your angelic face, I doubt that Sunghoon would suspect anything unless you gave away the hint.”

Karina’s suggestion does sound enticing, and you are considering it at this very moment as you finally step foot into the chalet zone with your friends flanking you.

The sky is now painted in a beautiful purple-blue hue, as the sun is making its descent. As you and your friends venture further, your eyes sparkle with wonderment. The ambience throughout the long array of chalets is teeming vibrantly with buoyancy that is accompanied by distinct chatter, hilarity, and blasting upbeat music that reverberates nearly throughout the resort.

“Welcome, ladies!” Yeonjun’s amiable greeting draws your attention to him. He is clad in a beach-fit consisting of a pair of shorts and a loose polo shirt that displays the tattoos inked on his chest.

“Great party, Choi!” Kazuha commends him, smiling at him.

You can see it in his eyes that Kazuha’s mere compliment elevates his pride. Yeonjun grins lazily. “If you think this is great, wait till y’all join the others by the pool.” His eyes trail to your face, and you see a flicker of surprise in his gaze. “Y/N! Not that you’re not welcomed here since you’re a senior as well, but I definitely didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeonjun.” You greet him politely with a small smile despite your distaste for him after knowing the reason behind Yunjin’s constant heartbreak because of him.

Yeonjun shoots you a friendly wink. “Hope you’ll enjoy what we have to offer. Oh, and if any of you ladies want to stay for a night or two, you are very welcome to do so! It’s all on the house!”

“Thanks, Yeonjun! You’re the best!” Rei chimes with a grin before Yeonjun gets distracted by the calling of his best friends from afar and drifts away from you.

“It’s a pity that he’s the same jerk as the other knights.” Karina mutters under her breath to you. “He’s one of the few who throws an amazing party.”

You hum in return, a little preoccupied with your eyes searching for a certain someone clad in leather over the sea of students in your line of sight. They are scattered everywhere. You admit that you are flabbergasted by the excessive skin revealed by most, as the ladies are in bikinis while the guys are in swim trunks.

But since this is a pool party, no one seems to be bothered by it, so you know for yourself that you need to grow accustomed to it.

“Food! We need food!” Rei and Kazuha exclaim before they dash off together hand-in-hand, leaving the three of you behind.

“Girl! You need to come with me! I got the details.” Giselle appears out of nowhere, her statement is directed at Winter as she holds her arm. Giselle looks at you briefly in shock before greeting you with a wink and proceeding to drag Winter with her.

“I’m gonna stick to you.” You loop your arm around Karina’s. The latter merely chuckles before both of you proceed to venture further.

As you follow Karina without uttering a word as she is busily greeting the students she recognises, you feel a pair of heated eyes drilling into your figure. At first, you shake away the feeling and tell yourself in your head that you’re probably just imagining things since you feel a tad paranoid about bumping into Jake or even Sunghoon.

But the longer you ignore it, the more you feel unsettled. It is as though somewhere, an unknown predator is watching you keenly and waiting for the right moment to pounce.

By now, your arm around Karina’s loosens while she is conversing with her friend, before you unlock your arm off of hers. With a frown tugging at your lips, your eyes begin to scan your surroundings, and when you do, you spot a familiar figure clad in denims whose face is staring at you, causing your heart to pound harder against your chest.

There is Jake, being surrounded by his fellow knights. He maintains eye contact with you, and even if he’s far from where you’re at, you can feel the electricity between the two of you. You notice the way his eyes rake all over your figure while he raises the red cup to his smirking lips before drinking the content.

You look away from him, unable to maintain eye contact with him any longer, or else you’ll burst. Warmth weaves across your cheeks as it turns pink. You hate how he never fails to look attractive, but the heartbreak from him remains fresh in your mind.

A profound sentiment fuels your determination to execute your sweet revenge against Jake, and so you begin your search for a specific person as you clutch the strap of your tote bag that bears necessity and extra undergarments.

Navigating your way through the crowd, you look down at your phone screen and send him a text.

Y/N: I’m here. Where are you? SUNGHOON: Turn around, princess.

You halt your steps, and that is when you finally feel a presence looming from behind you. As you slowly turn around, your eyes meet his steely ones. A cold smile touches his lips, giving you the bad chills.

You have an inkling that he may or may not have been pissed off by your texts earlier. You swallow down a bundle of nerves. “Sunghoon─”

Without a word, Sunghoon latches his hand around your wrist before pulling you with him, further from the main scene, where he guides you into one of the chalets. With the door slamming shut loudly behind you, you flinch as you stare at the back of his head, to which you can’t help but admire the butterfly tattoo inked on his nape.

As you walk past one of the rooms, you manage to catch a glimpse of Heeseung inside, who is quick enough to make eye contact with you that the intensity of his gaze alone is enough to steal your breath. You don’t miss the way his eyebrow arches inquisitively upon seeing you getting dragged by Sunghoon.

By the time Sunghoon brings you into one of the rooms, you have no idea whether your heart is beating fast out of fear or excitement, awaiting what is next.

“Are you mad at me?” You break the ice as soon as he releases your wrist. Getting annoyed by the weight of your tote bag, you decide to place it on the table behind you.

Sunghoon turns around, allowing you to discern the emotions exuding from him. “Am I mad? I don’t know, princess. Do I look like I’m mad?” He asks with a sardonic smile.

His eyes rake all over you, and he swears he can feel his dick twitching under these layers of clothing. You look gorgeous yet at the same time cute, all dolled up in a white floral print dress that reaches way above your plush thighs. You are still wearing the satin piece that you tied your hair with into a delicate bow, but this time, he finds it endearing instead.

A newfound wave of possessiveness washes over him like a tidal wave as he clenches his jaw at the thought of other guys feasting their eyes on you.

“Um…maybe?” You answer meekly as you shuffle your feet uncomfortably, feeling conscious of the smouldering intensity of his gaze on your body.

Sunghoon scoffs out a chuckle. “You know, princess, you’re different compared to when you texted me. You’re feisty through texts, but now?” He cocks his head to one side. The mockery is glaring on his face while a small smirk touches his lips. “You look pathetically weak.”

You frown at the insult. “That’s not very nice, considering that I did end up searching for you after my arrival.”

“If you haven’t already known, I don’t do nice.” Sunghoon says coldly before he takes a seat on the edge of the bed, his legs outstretched and spread leisurely. His head is tilted while his gaze on you remains invasive, as though he is undressing you.

His tongue peeks from his mouth as he licks his lips. “Get down on your knees, princess.”

His husky, erotic voice nearly knocks the breath out of you while your eyes widen in disbelief at his command. “W-Why?” Your voice shakes, mirroring your inner turmoil.

“I said get down on your fucking knees.”

Not wanting to piss him off more than he already looks, you do as you were told, slowly getting down on your knees. The cold, marbled flooring in contact with your knees sends shivers through your body.

Sunghoon displays his contentment, smirking down at you while the familiar cruelty in his dark gaze causes your inner turmoil to tenfold. “Now, crawl to me.”

This time, your eyes widen like sockets, refusing to believe the words left in his mouth. “What?” You remain unmoving as every fibre in your body goes frozen.

“Crawl to me.” He commands calmly this time, but you are no fool to interpret that his calmness doesn’t mirror the explicable storms in his hauntingly beautiful eyes.

Out of fear for him, you suppress your dignity, placing both of your palms on the cold, marbled floor. You lower your gaze as you advance forward rather slowly while you bite down your bottom lip to refrain from leaking the tears at the corner of your eyes.

“Eyes on me when you crawl to me.” His stern voice elicits a silent whimper from you before you reluctantly raise your head to meet his callous gaze.

The utter humiliation colours your cheeks as you continue to crawl to him while his cold smirk remains on his countenance, blatantly displaying his satisfaction in seeing you being so pathetic yet compliant.

His gaze lowers to your chest, where he can catch a glimpse of the plumpness of your breasts, which are supported by your bikini top. You notice that, and it only brings more humiliation to you.

Once you reach directly in front of him, he leans forward to grab your chin firmly and tilt your head up. “Can you recall what you texted me earlier? Something about me being all talk but no action?" His smirk widens upon seeing the panic in your eyes. “Don’t worry, princess. I won’t be fucking you, but rather, I’m gonna teach you lesson one, and by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be an expert.”

“Lesson one?” You mumble, frowning in confusion, yet at the same time, you feel a strange anticipation.

“Lesson one: How to suck a dick. Gotta get you to become the perfect cockslut just for me.” His chuckles sound degrading, and instead of hating it, you find yourself getting oddly excited by his degradation. “Have you ever sucked a dick?”

“N-No.” You become flustered by the usage of his dirty talking, yet your core is stirring with the familiar arousal.

“Of course, you haven’t. You’re a fucking saint.” He says in utter disgust, releasing your chin roughly, but you remain in eye contact with him, as though you are hypnotised. “Unzip my pants.”

And you do, but you are rather flimsy with your hands, eliciting another chuckle from him as he finds you surprisingly adorable, especially the glinting anticipation in your eyes. Once you finally unfasten his pants, you proceed to pull them down, where your eyes widen at how conspicuous the outline of his cock beneath the material of the briefs is, and you can discern how hard he actually is.

“Go on. Pull it down.” He says, slightly breathless with keen anticipation at the thought of being the first guy to be sucked and deepthroated by the renowned Crescents’ good girl.

With trembling hands, you begin to pull down his black briefs, and at once, you are met by the sight of his cock. You can’t help but marvel at how thick he is, even thicker than Jake’s, and you fear you can’t handle him.

“Grab it.” He instructs, and with hesitation, you grab his length, which feels warm beneath your touch. “Now pump it.”

Despite your low confidence, you begin pumping his length while your eyes are fixated on his engorging, nearly red tip. Your mouth goes watery as your mind begins to fantasise about taking and swallowing him whole.

“Don’t bother being gentle.” He says, his chest heaving as he refrains himself from going out all hard on you, knowing that you won’t be able to handle him as a whole. “Use your thumb to rub the tip as well.”

While still pumping him, you use the other hand to rub his tip, and when your thumb makes a tentative rub, a low yet attractive groan emits from him, which fuels your determination to get him to cum as you resume your administration.

The softness of your hands on his dick feels so innocent, while he finds your visible determination adorable. He begins to grow addicted to your touch, wanting more than just your hands.

“Kiss the tip, princess.”

You look at him as he gives you an encouraging nod before you lean forward to kiss the tip. Once your soft lips come into contact with his tip, he clenches his jaw, feeling good just from your kiss. A shiver runs down your spine as you kiss his warm yet sticky tip that has been gradually leaking with his precum.

“Lick it.”

Like a good student heeding her professor’s instruction, you stick out your tongue before licking the tip, and when you do, you nearly moan out at how sensational he feels on your tongue. The precum from his tip doesn’t even deter you from licking him again.

“Now put my dick into your mouth.” He instructs huskily, his voice laden with lust. The palpable tension in the room has your pulse going erratic.

You halt your administration, and yearning to please him, you grab his length again to aim it at your parted mouth. Sunghoon groans lowly just by the mere sensation of your tongue and the roof of your mouth enveloping the head.

“Take my dick deeper.” He tells you, prompting you to take him deeper slowly while you struggle with the girth of his cock. You stop to take a short breather, but Sunghoon raises his eyebrow at you. “Go on. I don’t want to see you stop until you take me deeper into your throat.”

A whimper is stuck in your throat, but nonetheless, you resume. Sunghoon sighs as his patience is running thin at how slow you are. Without any leniency, he leans forward to grab a fist of your hair and pulls you towards him, causing your eyes to widen at the abrupt roughness as he gags you.

You make a choking noise as the head is now hitting the back of your throat. Your hands latch on his thighs, clawing at him as you struggle to take his length.

“Stop panicking. You’ll only make it worse.” He grumbles, still gripping your hair. “Slack your jaw, princess.”

Trying to regulate your uneven breathing and emotions, you proceed to slack your jaw, now accommodating his girth without much struggle.

“Now bob your head and deepthroat me.” A smirk touches his lips as he releases your hair.

Despite your jaw already aching from the weight of his cock in your mouth, you do as he told you to, bobbing your head with the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat every so often, which has you making a choking noise.

Tears prickle in your eyes as you continue to take him deeper while his callous eyes gleam with cruel fascination, admiring how pathetically helpless you look in taking his thick cock yet so beautifully kneeling in front of him.

“I don’t want to see you stop until I cum in your throat, understood?” His stern voice has you nodding your head frantically and gagging once more, and you swear you can feel your throat bulging.

Sunghoon throws his head to the back at how sensational your mouth and throat feel, moaning deeply, which evokes familiar arousal from you and also elevates your confidence.

Sunghoon returns his hungry gaze to your face once more, his tongue grazing across his bottom lip while the tip of his lips turns into a smirk. “That’s it. You’re doing so good, my perfect little cockslut.” He croons to you, his fingers brushing your tear-stained cheek.

The moan from your throat sends vibrations to his cock, amplifying the pleasure before his impending orgasm comes knocking on the door.

“I knew it. Beneath your pristine Catholic good girl facade is a hungry cockslut just like any other girl.” He says harshly while more tears stream down your cheeks. He grunts out a moan as he fucks into your mouth, causing you to gag again.

Your hands claw at his thighs, denoting that you need some respite, but he simply raises his eyebrow while mockery is painted all over his face. “Nah, I don’t think so. You’re not done until you swallow every drop of my cum.”

You manage to whimper through your stuffed mouth. With your jaw aching tremendously, that serves as motivation for you to draw out his orgasm quickly.

Sunghoon heaves a sigh of pleasure while a tinge of surprise spreads in his chest when your tongue swirls around the tip deliciously. He watches with ladened, lusty eyes as you get immersed in it. The sight is rather enthralling.

“Yeah? You love my cock, princess?” He rasps, leaning his body forward to caress the back of your head. You moan in response, sending another vibration through his cock, to which he swallows a moan. “I know you do. You always need to be mouth-stuffed with my cock, don’t you?”

All of his dirty talking goes straight to the heat of your cunt, eliciting another moan from the back of your throat. You are itching to attend to your neglected clit, but you know you need to focus solely on his pleasure.

The corner of your mouth is nearly drooling with your spit, while your aching jaw is begging for mercy and the crystalline tears are staining your cheeks. He bucks his hips once more, and this time, his hand grips a fist of your hair, forcing you deeper before he finally comes undone.

A guttural moan emitting from him rings through your ears as he holds you completely still, tugging the roots of your hair painfully while you gladly swallow every drop. Instead of being revolted, you find yourself getting addicted to the taste of his cum.

Once he releases your hair, you take this as a signal to remove his now-softened cock from your mouth, your lips glistening with your saliva while you regulate your erratic breathing.

Sunghoon releases a sigh of contentment, with his chest heaving up and down. He hates to admit it, but for someone with zero blowjob experience, you did amazing — better than he expected.

His dark eyes meet your dazed ones before casting you a charming smirk. “Good job, princess. You passed with flying colours.”

You don’t respond, as you remain speechless by what happened. The rational part of you is greatly disappointed in you for succumbing to the sin once more, but another part of you is brimming with satisfaction that you manage to impress the guy who hates you.

You blink your eyes after being pulled away from the state of dazed by the sound of shuffling, prompting you to look at Sunghoon in front of you as he zips up his pants. With an arched eyebrow at you, he pats his thigh, beckoning you to sit. “Come here, princess.”

You don’t want to, especially since you’re afraid that he might make a nasty remark about how weighty you are. But his dark eyes penetrate into yours so intensely that you find yourself complying.

Your movements are tentative, he can see it. Patience running thin and in dire need to feel your body on him, once you rise from the ground, he grabs your hand and tugs you towards him before turning you around and forcing you to sit with your bums hitting his thighs.

You hold your breath momentarily, waiting for him to make a snide remark. But what he does next throws you off guard. His palms are placed on top of your thighs, and the heat of his touch sends shivers through you while his chest is pressed against your back, allowing you to feel his heart pounding.

“Aren’t I heavy for you?” You ask shakily as your pulses drum violently in your ears. His body heat and his touch on your thighs are making your head dizzy.

“You’re lightweight, princess.” Sunghoon says in a murmur, his fingers stroking your thighs, enjoying how you feel on top of him.

“Liar.” You can’t help but scoff lightly.

“Like I said before, princess, I’m a man of my words.” Sunghoon drawls his words before he decides to cave into his temptation, brushing your hair to the side for him to get better access to your neck.

Your pretty, dainty neck is one of the things he has been fantasising about. He desires to leave more of his marks on your skin and to proudly display them for any guys who glance in your way, and his raging lust intensifies as he recalls how good your throat looked bulging when you deepthroated him earlier. He desires to use you as his cocksleeve.

His warm lips on your skin send the familiar sensation through your body as you gasp softly. “Why exactly are we in this room?” You manage to ask in between shaky breaths. Goosebumps arise on your skin as he drags the tip of his nose on the curve of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent that he wants to bask in.

“Because I wanted us to be here,” He says in a lull. “And I want to have you all to myself before I let you go and have fun.”

“You’ll let me go?” The flicker of hope that is apparent in your tone sounds adorable to him, eliciting a breathy chuckle from him.

“Don’t be too happy now, princess. After you had your fun, you’re all mine for the taking.” He presses one last kiss on your neck before whispering, “Turn around for me.”

You do as he told, with his assistance as well, and your dress is hiked up way above by the time you face him. Your eyes settle on his face, admiring how beautifully sculpted every feature of his is and the beauty marks embellished on some parts of his face.

“Where is my mark?” Sunghoon frowns, shattering your trance. His fingers brush against your skin, where the concealed hickey is.

“Concealer.” You tell him shortly, shivering every once in a while as he continues to stroke your skin. “I didn’t want any of my friends to find out about it.”

Sunghoon kisses the back of his mouth, annoyed, but with your doe eyes staring at him, he resigns. “Fine, but I’m not letting your earlier attitude pass.”

“W-Wait! Sunghoon!” Panic settles in your chest as soon as he leans down to kiss your neck on the other side, afraid that he will leave marks. “I have something important to tell you!”

But your body betrays you as it succumbs to the pleasure he is giving you simply by kissing and nipping your neck. You arch your back while tilting your head to the perfect angle for him to administer his kisses comfortably on your skin.

Sunghoon hums attractively in response, but he doesn’t relent. “What is so important other than leaving another of my marks on you?”

“It’s about Jaeyun.”

Sunghoon ceases whatever he is doing. Oddly, the name of his best friend coming from your mouth evokes a newfound emotion in him, and he doesn’t like it.

“What about him?” He asks in a grunt, his arm around your waist tightening.

“He did something.” You start off, unsure if you’re going in the right direction.

Sunghoon scoffs out a chuckle. “And so I’ve been told.”

Your eyes widen as you stare at him, baffled. “So you knew about the whole thing?”

“Not exactly.” Sunghoon says, now intrigued by this, while his amorous thoughts about you remain lingering in his head. “He told me that he used some girl to make you jealous, but he didn’t go into details when I pressed on.”

Of course, Sunghoon is technically lying since he has already put the pieces together. From his understanding, Jake used Hana to make you jealous because Jake couldn’t handle the fact that Sunghoon and the other two would soon be coming after you. In simple words, Jake is bitter and jealous; at least that’s what Sunghoon thinks.

But Sunghoon still can’t comprehend why Jake chose such a method that is similar to when the latter ghosted them without any explanation.

“It was stupid. I was stupid.” You have no idea why, but instinctively, you lower your guards. By now, you are perched comfortably on his lap while your fingers are mindlessly drawing circles on his back, sending him unfamiliar shivers. “I thought I meant something to him. I thought he meant what he said about me being his girl.”

Naturally, you expect Sunghoon to offer you words of consolation, but instead, cold chuckles emit from him while the familiar cruelty gleams in his eyes. “Oh, princess, were you that desperate for attention and affection from Jake?”

Your eyes turn crestfallen with glistening tears, while your heart stings from his derogatory words. “I-I wasn’t─”

“Awww, princess’s a crybaby.” Sunghoon kisses the back of his mouth, his stroking fingers on your cheek feel sneering. “You’re so fucking pathetic, really, and dumb.”

“Why are you being so mean to me?” You ask weakly, your quivering lips jutting into a pout, which catches his attention, and he wants nothing more than to kiss and bite them.

“Because I like seeing you cry.” He admits with a sly grin smearing his lips as he gazes deeply into your eyes. “I like making you cry.”

“You’re─” You smack your lips shut together as hesitation pulls you away from saying things that might lead to consequences.

Sunghoon raises an inquisitive eyebrow at you while his grip on your waist tightens, and you can detect the danger just by his mere touch. “I’m what?” His tone denotes a warning.

You shake your head in refusal, subconsciously biting down your bottom lip at the dark intensity in his gaze. His eyes zero in on your pink, luscious lips that looked swollen earlier from the blowjob.

“Don’t do that.” His fingers grip your chin, his thumb moving to your bottom lip and slowly tugging it down, causing you to release from biting it. “Only I get to bite them.” He murmurs as his thumb brushes your moist lip sensually. “Come on. Tell me what you were about to say.”

Gazing into his dark eyes with lidded eyes, your breaths turn shallow while his thumb remains on your bottom lip. “You’re crazy.” You manage to utter, but your voice sounds foreignly thick, laden with lust as the palpable tension in the air becomes unbearable.

“Because I like making you cry?” His tone mirrors yours as he leans forward to close the gap between your bodies, enjoying the way your breasts are pressed against his chest.

“Yes.” You unintentionally pout again, and it seems as though you are whining your discontentment to him and sulking with the way you are now.

“Oh, princess,” He sighs leisurely, his thumb making its ascent to wipe the tears from your cheek. “How could I not make you cry? Especially when you look pretty like this.”

Your breath hitches in your throat while something fluttery brushes against your beating heart. “You think I’m pretty?”

The lazy smile on his lips with his fang-like teeth peeking is enough to bring butterflies into your tummy. “So, so pretty.”

“But I thought you hated me.” You mumble, ignoring the way your cheeks flare diffidently.

“I still do.”

“Well, I don’t like you either.” Your voice wavers, but the sudden realisation of what you intended to tell him dawns on you. “Listen, I know that you hate me, but I need your help.”

“My help? Pray tell, what─”

“I want to use you to get back Jaeyun.” You cut him off, surprising yourself with the firm resolution in your tone. Even Sunghoon seems to be so too. “I want to make him jealous as revenge.”

“You? And revenge?” The incredulity gleams in his eyes with a smirk tugging at his lips. “My, my. I never would have thought that the angel would act in retaliation for revenge.”

“Just for tonight.” You tell him, your voice softening with a plea. “Please?”

“Do you even realise who you are asking for help?” He smirks, the scintilla of danger in his eyes dancing delightfully. “I admire your audacity, princess.”

You huff out annoyedly. “If you don’t want to, then I’ll just find another guy to help me─”

“Don’t you fucking dare, or I swear that guy won’t live to see the next sunrise.” He nearly growls out his warning, and just by his tone and his dark gaze, you know that he will do it.

It’s baffling to you because you swear you notice the visible jealousy in the expression on his face alone. But why would he be when he had declared his hatred for you?

“I’ll help you.” Sunghoon affirms, leaning down to your neck to place a sensual kiss on your pulse. “Just don’t find any other guy to make Jaeyun jealous.”

“Thank you.” You sigh in relief, but tenses slightly when you feel him smirking on your neck.

“Remember, princess, that you owe me back.”

“What do you want?” You ask, frowning as he pulls away from you to meet your curious eyes.

“I’ll tell you only after we manage to make Jake jealous.”

Just as you are about to speak, you hear a knock on the door, causing your body to go frigid, and you don’t even have time to move away from Sunghoon when the door swings open to reveal Heeseung.

Your widened eyes meet his indifferent ones at the side, and it confounds you when he doesn’t seem the slightest bothered by you being perched in an intimate position on top of his best friend.

“The knights have been told to gather by the pool.” Heeseung tells Sunghoon in a monotone manner while maintaining eye contact with you.

A firm squeeze on your ass cheek shifts your attention from Heeseung to Sunghoon, and that is when embarrassment hits you at the fact that Heeseung’s gaze remains on the two of you. You notice that Sunghoon seems laid-back and still has that cold smirk on his lips before you instinctively bury your head into his chest in an attempt to hide your flustered face that feels warm.

“You can go ahead. I’ll be right there in a while.” Sunghoon tells him, with his hand remaining on your bum, to give it another squeeze.

You hear the door closing as well as Sunghoon’s hot breath fanning on your earlobe. “I’ll get going first, but as for your revenge, I guess we’ll have to wait until we’re in Jake’s line of sight.”

“I want to make him really jealous.” You murmur to him as your finger draws a circle on his clad-leathered shoulder.

Sunghoon chuckles lethally softly next to your ear. “Trust me, princess, once he sees us, he’ll be more than just jealous.”

“Come on, Y/N!” Karina’s voice can be heard from the outside, as does the knock on the door, while you remain petrified and rooted to the toilet tiles, your widened eyes staring at your reflection in the mirror.

“Yeah! I’m sure you look just as gorgeous as you normally are!” Winter’s words don’t even flatter you in the slightest. "Y/N, babe, we’ll be missing out on the first rave at this rate!”

Your eyes do a quick scan of your stark appearance, which renders you speechless. Although you don’t look as bad as you initially thought, you still feel extremely conscious of the lack of layers on your whole body.

The top bikini just fits your breasts nicely with the conspicuous cleavage, but what makes you greatly insecure is the plumpness of your bums, which not even the bottom bikini can cover wholly.

With a sigh, you reluctantly decide to make an exit out of the bathroom. When you pull the door open, you are taken aback to see more familiar faces huddling with their eager eyes on you. Still feeling self-conscious, your arms latch around your body in an attempt to cover yourself.

“Don’t cover your gorgeous body!” Chaewon steps forward to force your arms apart, to which you finally allow them to drop to the sides. At once, collective gasps emit from your beautiful friends in different bikini designs.

“Baby girl! You look drop-dead gorgeous!” Giselle gushes over you before the compliments from the rest of your friends go shooting like bullets at you, causing your cheeks to turn pink as they flare with shyness.

“I swear, you’re going to be leaving this party with more than one number.” Liz shoots you a suggestive wink, earning some choruses of agreement from the others.

Surprisingly, most of them seem to be accepting of the fact that you are bolder than you used to be. As your eyes sweep over to them, there is a hollow in your heart when you notice two missing faces. Yunjin and Wonyoung.

“Come on!” With gleeful chuckles, Chaewon latches her hand on yours before practically dragging you out of the chalet, with the rest eagerly trailing along.

As soon as you step outside, the night has long since made its ascent, leaving only the luminous moonlight hanging in the dark sky. You have no idea where the girls are leading you, but you find yourself enjoying and vibing to the blasting music, smiling softly.

You begin to draw attention from some of the students in your passing vicinity, but you don’t allow their stares to get to you. You even hear whistles that denote vulgarity from some of the guys as Chaewon continues to drag you with her, but you simply dismiss them.

Soon, you have arrived at the boisterous scenery of a group of knights in one of the pools, with other guests gathered to watch the said knights engage in an activity of water volleyball.

Your steps slow down as your eyes sparkle in awe at how vibrant the atmosphere is teeming, with the purple-red LEDs luminescent by the pool and illuminating their faces. The rowdy commotion brings your attention to the knights in the pool, and your eyes instantly latch onto a familiar face with the tattoo inked on the side of his neck.

Your heart flutters at the sight of Heeseung, in his athletic element, as he throws the volleyball in the air before serving expertly. Your eyes rake all over his fine glory, taken aback by how toned his physique actually is beneath the layers of his clothes. As your eyes return to his face, heat weaves across your cheeks at how attractive he looks with his damp hair and the smirk on his lips as he counters the other team’s attack.

“Here.” Chaewon pulls your attention away from him, prompting you to look down at the red cup in her grasp.

“Thanks.” You say awkwardly, accepting the drink from her despite your hesitancy.

“Let’s have a toast!” Liz has all your friends, including you, huddled in a circle. She raises her red cup with a grin on her vibrant face. “To Y/N!”

“Wait, why?” You ask, confusion plastered on your face.

“Just, you know,” Liz shrugs her shoulders. “because you’re finally out of your shell.”

“To Y/N Kang!” Giselle initiates the toast before the other girls rejoice, followed by you.

You can’t dismiss the uneasiness that gnaws at your tummy as you watch them drink. What Liz said earlier bothers you because you have no idea whether to take her words as a bad or good thing. It is also as if she, and most probably the rest of the girls, are more than glad about the new you, and you can’t help but feel that they like you more than before.

You shake your head before deciding to drown this feeling by drinking the liquor, which tasted gassy yet sharp, but the flavour is addictive, leaving you wanting more of it despite the small voice in your head berating you for behaving improperly once again.

Moments have passed, and you find yourself in an effervescent element, vibing to the music as you dance silly with your friends. Maybe the vodka sodas you drank earlier have begun intoxicating your whole senses, but you feel like a whole different person.

“The first rave!” Winter and the others are brimming with excitement as they proceed to make their way to the pool where the knights were playing water volleyball earlier. You follow suit, filled with an adrenaline rush as soon as you land in the pool with a splash.

Just like the rest by the pool, you get lost in the abysmal of the vibrant raving with blasting music reverberating throughout, feeling utterly euphoric. With a lopsided smile at Kazuha, who winks at you before resuming to vibe and dance with a guy, you feel your back hitting someone’s bare chest from behind.

Before you can turn around, the person behind you grips your arm, locking you in place. You feel his hot breath fanning the shell of your earlobe.

“As much as I love to see you like this, have you forgotten your revenge?” Sunghoon whispers lowly to you before you look over your shoulder to meet his eyes.

“Oh, yeah.” You mumble distraughtly, eliciting a scoff from him.

Your eyes trail to the front, and just like that, you spot Jake from a distance. You do a quick scan of his appearance, to which your eyes feast upon the display of his bicep muscles as he is adorning a black singlet that looks taut on his body.

But a frown touches your lips as you see him conversing and flirting, as evident by his sultry gaze and stupid, charming grin on his face, with two girls. The jealousy you thought you had subdued ignites into large flames.

You hate that he looks way too good, and you hate it even more that his attention is not on you.

Your eyes twitch as one of the girls is touching his chest with her fingers grazing his toned muscle, while he doesn’t seem the slightest bothered by this as he continues to converse coquettishly with them.

The sudden wave pool nearly sends you tumbling to the back, but Sunghoon holds you steady with his hands gripping your shoulders, prompting you to divert your attention to him briefly.

“He’s right there, princess.” Sunghoon points out the obvious, his steely eyes penetrate into yours while your skin tingles beneath his touch. “How do you want to get his attention?”

“I don’t know.” You mumble with your crestfallen eyes lowering, completely disheartened, but Sunghoon is not having any of that as he grabs you by the chin to force you to look at him.

“Come on, princess. Don’t be such a weakling. This is the exact reason why you’re an easy target for anyone, because you’re allowing yourself to be a pushover.”

You are uncertain whether to regard his words as another of his insults or as emboldening your spirits. You open your mouth to speak, but he appears to be distracted as he shifts his attention to the side.

When Sunghoon’s eyes flicker towards his best friend, their eyes instantly meet. A devious grin smears across Sunghoon’s lips, whereas Jake simply raises his eyebrow at him while trying his utmost to ignore the sight of you in a cute bikini that displays every curve you have been gatekeeping.

Little did you know that Jake had been having a raging hard-on the moment he spotted you walking into the venue earlier.

“He’s watching us right now.” Sunghoon murmurs, the smirk remaining on his lips as he tears his gaze off of Jake’s penetrating eyes. Sunghoon looks down at you and gives you a subtle nod, giving you a hint that you can grasp.

On the other hand, Jake watches with a clenched jaw as Sunghoon has his hands now roaming all over your body, occasionally groping your ass cheeks while you don’t seem the slightest bothered, given how you are gazing into Sunghoon’s dark eyes with a sultry smile spreading across your luscious lips.

The familiar sense of jealousy lurks within Jake dangerously, but this time, it is so profound that he desires to rip Sunghoon’s hands from touching your body that he once touched, bit, kissed, and fucked. He ignores the two ladies who have been vying for his attention since the moment he stared at the two of you.

Jake knows he shouldn’t be feeling this ridiculous jealousy, especially when he knows that Sunghoon and his other two best friends will soon get to you like the way he did, but fuck, he has never seen you gazing at him the way you do to Sunghoon right now.

Sunghoon shouldn’t be enjoying this, but he does. His dark gaze remains on your sultry countenance, drinking in how sinfully beautiful you look under these purple fluorescences ─ your hair is entirely drenched with some of the strands sticking to your forehead and cheeks, your naturally long wet eyelashes fluttering every now and then to meet his ravenous gaze, the dimples prominent on your cheeks as you smile.

Sunghoon can feel his dick twitching again while his hands on your bare waist tighten. Fuck, you look truly exquisite.

The revenge against Jake remains in your mind, but at the same time, you get lost in the euphoric ecstasy as the reverberating music and the alcohol in your system have influenced you, while there is a blissful sway each time you groove to the beat, causing the water to ripple around you.

“You’re enjoying making him jealous, aren’t you?” Sunghoon adorns an attractive smirk, with his teeth peeking from his lips and his hands remaining latched onto your body.

“I am.” The sound of your giggles goes straight to his dick. Your arms are now draped lazily over his bare shoulders, humming to the music with your head tilted attractively to the side of his eyes. “I hope it’s working.”

“I hope so too.” Sunghoon grins as he grabs your chin to tilt it up before he leans down to give you a kiss on the throat. You gasp at the sensation of his warm lips kissing your skin sensually before licking and nipping it deliciously. You can feel your knees going weak, but thankfully, you’re in the pool, or else you’ll probably fall.

Sunghoon doesn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon while you continue to move to the music before you decide to turn your head to the side, giving him better access to administer his kisses and licks on your neck with his arm locked around your waist and the other holding your drenched hair to the back.

Your heart pounds harder against your chest as soon as you lock eyes with Jake’s. Your eyes widen slightly to see how his penetrating, dark gaze is drilling into you with his chiselled jaw clenched. You watch as his hand slowly crushes the red cup while you admire how attractive the veins protruding from his arm look.

But a moving figure captures your attention, pulling your attention from Jake, and for a fleeting moment, your eyes meet Heeseung's, to which your pulse begins to drum loudly in your ears at the intensity of his dark gaze alone, but there is a smirk unfurling on his pink lips.

Maybe you are a slut on the inside, because why are you enjoying the fact that two hot men are watching you being blatantly intimate with their best friend?

“Y/N! You’ve got to try this out─” Giselle’s voice snaps you out of the trance, prompting you to shove Sunghoon away from you, but his deep grunt against your neck sends you shivers while his arm tightens around you. “Woah, am I interrupting something?”

You look over at Giselle, noticing the suggestive smirk on her face as her eyes dart between the two of you. “Guys, there are many available chalets for you to do the deed, ya know?”

“Fuck off, Giselle.” Sunghoon grumbles to her, holding you possessively close and making you feel suffocated.

“Nu-uh, I’m here for my friend, and I’m not leaving without her.” Giselle remains adamant, eliciting a pissed-off cuss from Sunghoon before he eventually withdraws from you. With his arm loosening around you, Giselle wastes no time latching her hand on your arm. “Fun floats, Y/N! You’re gonna love them!” She squeals, not even bothered by the fact that she found you with Sunghoon.

“Oh, uh─” Uncertain to leave, your eyes shift to Sunghoon, whose cold facade returns as he looks away from you before heading in the opposite direction.

You ignore the tinge of disappointment in your chest before forcing yourself to smile as Giselle begins to ramble excitedly to you about what happened during the first rave.

The rest of the night passes by quicker than you like, but nevertheless, the night remains young and wild with the constant ebullience teeming in the atmosphere that is also accompanied by the distinctive chatters, blasting music, and the pervading whiff of strong alcoholic odour due to the massive game of beer pong that is ongoing in the background as you navigate your way around the resort.

Your face contorts into a grimace as there is a growing headache forming while you try your utmost not to stumble or bump into anyone. You silently berate yourself for drinking more than one cup of vodka.

Earlier, Giselle brought you to where your other friends were found, by the centre of the pool, where most of the guests were gathered to enjoy a frivolous game of floats. You had fun, especially when you got a sparkly pink flamingo float, which you rode and even engaged in a playful race with your girls. You took some moments of respite, indulging your temptation to drink another cup of vodka and another before resuming.

You recall the adrenaline rush you experienced, and you had no idea whether it was the effect of alcohol or simply that you were having genuine fun, getting utterly intoxicated by the environment that enshrouded your rational side.

You survey your surroundings, trying to search for a certain someone. By now, you have grown accustomed to the sight of people making out lewdly in the open, smoking, and even ingesting substances that will render them on a delirious high.

Still, your nose scrunches up as whiffs of cigarette smoke hit you before you resume your search. Not long after, you have reached the secluded area, where a few familiar faces greet you. Your body goes frigid, and by the time their gazes land on you, you know it’s too late to back out.

Where you are has a pool that is relatively small, and the lights in the area are rather dim, leaving only the blue luminous pool light to illuminate their faces, allowing you to decipher their predatory gazes on you.

Not only is the area being loitered by the four knights’ leaders, but there are a few of their members as well. The air looks hazy, which stems from the burning cigarette sticks in their grasps.

“Hey, babygirl.” Jay greets you in an attractive drawl, to which your cheeks flush pink despite the wariness on your face. “Came here to join us?”

The distaste is visible in your gaze, looking down at his tattooed arm as he offers you a cigarette stick rolled between his fingers. Your eyes trail to the person next to him, who is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, and your heart stings at Jake’s cold penetrating eyes, and yet you don’t miss the way his eyes rake all over your body.

“Come on, Y/N.” Jay heaves a sigh, remaining seated on the bench. “Since you’re here, you might as well join us for a smoke or two.” He shoots you a wicked grin. "I'll teach you how to smoke."

“No, thank you.” You reject him politely with a terse smile before your eyes shift to Heeseung, who is seated next to Jay with his legs spread leisurely. His sultry gaze causes your breath to hitch in your throat before he takes a long drag of smoke from the burning cigarette stick in his grasp.

But it is rather odd. The predatory gazes from other knights are obvious, but they don’t make any approach to you, almost as though they had been warned not to.

You look away from them before your attention is now on a certain someone you had been searching for earlier in the pool by the ledge, smoking with two knight members as he seems to be in a conversation with them.

Ignoring the three leaders’ gazes on you, you proceed to make your way to Sunghoon, despite the nervousness that seems to be coiling in your tummy.

Upon noticing your shadowy figure on the wall, Sunghoon turns his head to look at you. His face remains devoid of emotion before looking away from you to speak to the two knights. You see the way they look at you briefly before they proceed to emerge from the pool, leaving only Sunghoon to dominate the entire pool.

Taking another drag of his cigarette, his thick eyebrow arches at you as he blows out a puff of grey smoke. “Come in here, princess.” He says to you, his dark gaze seems welcoming, but you know for yourself that you ought to be wary of him.

Swallowing harshly, you heed his words, standing by the edge of the pool and crouching down with one palm on the pool’s ledge to support yourself as your legs dip into the cold chlorine water before submerging your whole body inside.

Tip-toeing, you remain afloat as the height of the water hits above your chest. Despite the fact that the others remain loitering around, the air is laden with tension between you and him, which is palpable to you while he maintains unwavering eye contact with you as he takes one last drag of his cigarette.

A familiar arousal stirs within you at how attractive he looks, even though you hate it whenever someone smokes. Tossing the shortened yet burned-out stick behind him, he takes you by surprise as he advances fluidly towards you. The water ripples violently from how fast he moves. All the while, your heart is pounding in anticipation.

The closer he gets, the more you become sobered up. You don’t even have time to register anything in your muddling brain when his hands reach for your arms to pull you to him.

A gasp leaves your lips, surprised by the sense of urgency emanating under his touch. His hand latches onto your nape while the other encases your waist securely as he moves you until your spine hits the hard edge of the concrete.

“Sunghoon.” You gasp again as soon as his lips latch on your skin, with his hand on your nape, forcing you to arch your neck, and you do.

“That’s our cue, guys!” One of the knights announces loudly, eliciting chuckles and grumbles from the rest.

Your cheeks are reddened as they proceed to make their departure from the area, and you so badly want to wallow in embarrassment when crude remarks are thrown at Sunghoon and you by his fellow knights.

“Lucky bastard!” “Good luck, Y/N!” “Wreck her pussy good, man!”

A small scowl etches on your face at the last remark.

“Come on.” You hear Heeseung’s distinct voice at the side, and from your peripheral vision, you spot how Jake is standing frozen in his spot, whereas Jay walks past him without looking back at the two of you. Heeseung grabs Jake’s arm firmly before they eventually leave.

Butterflies swarm in your tummy the longer Sunghoon continues kissing and licking your neck before he lowers his head down to the expanse of your chest. “Where’s that necklace of yours?” He asks in a murmur, getting immersed in the act.

“I kept them in my bag.” You say quietly, getting dizzy by how good his lips feel on your skin. “It’s unbecoming for me to be wearing it, for obvious reasons.” You whisper and swallow down a familiar lump in your throat.

Sunghoon’s cold chuckles fill your ears as he withdraws from you. A lazy smirk spreads across his glistening lips. “Glad that you’re self-aware.”

You don’t respond, distracting yourself by enjoying his body pressing against yours while the water ripples around you gently. You heave a sigh. “I think we managed to convince him─”

“Shhhh.” He leans down next to your head before planting a sensual kiss on your temple, his breath tickling your skin. “Not yet, princess.”

The goosebumps from the cold temperature and his arm around your waist compels you to wrap your legs around his bare waist and snuggle into him, rendering him shocked by how comfortable you are being cosy with him while maintaining a stoic expression.

“Is he still watching us?” You ask softly next to his ear. Your hands have grown accustomed to the heat of his skin beneath your touch as you decide to loosen your grip on his broadened shoulders.

“Yeah.” His hot breath hits the shell of your earlobe, while his deep voice stirs something within you. You can discern the smugness just by his tone alone, prompting you to tilt your head to the side and stare at his face. Though he has a cocky grin smearing his lips, your heart flutters once more at how stunning he looks up close.

Sunghoon has been maintaining eye contact with Jake from afar, and he can’t deny the fact that he finds pure entertainment in the glaring jealousy of his best friend, despite the fact that they share the same goal.

The cocky grin on his lips persists as he breaks eye contact with Jake to stare into your eyes. They sparkle beautifully under these dim lights around you. “Should we piss him off more?” He suggests slyly, knowing that Jake is still watching the two of you intently being all cosy in the pool.

“I don’t know.” Your soft voice is accompanied by hesitation as you lower your gaze while you absentmindedly fiddle with the strands at the back of his hair.

“You told me that you wanted revenge, right?” Sunghoon grips your chin firmly, forcing you to look him in the eyes. “This is your chance, princess. Show him that you don’t need him when you have me to keep you satisfied.”

Although you know he doesn’t mean his words, your cheeks are emblazoned with pink, flustered by his statement. Upon seeing the effect he has on you, a newfound desire ignites within him, admiring how gorgeous you look under this luminescence surrounded by the pool, especially the way your doe eyes are giving him a reason to imagine how good you would look as they leak tears when he fucks your throat.

Just as you are about to respond, your eyes widen at the sensation of his cock directly beneath you as you remain seated on top of him, eliciting a small gasp from you.

You waver as his dark eyes penetrate into yours. You can clearly see the emotions swimming in his hauntingly beautiful eyes that seem to be devouring you whole at any moment in time.

Your lips quiver as you begin to speak, “Sunghoon─”

The escalation is hard for you to grasp. One moment you’re in heated eye contact with the guy who completely hates your guts, and the next, his hand latches on your nape to pull you roughly into him as his lips slam against yours.

The taste of a cigarette remains fresh on his lips, but you find yourself deepening the kiss. He takes you by surprise when he nips at your bottom lip.

With your parted lips leaving a startled gasp, Sunghoon grasps the opportunity to poke his tongue into your hot cavern and begin to explore every inch of you. Your eyes flutter closed, surrendering yourself to him. You reciprocate his kiss with equal fervour, moaning hotly into his mouth as his tongue meshes against yours.

You taste exactly what he imagined ─ sweet, innocent, and addictive to the point where one taste is not enough for him. Oh, he simply can't wait until he is done bringing corruption upon you.

Sunghoon’s kisses feel similar to how Jake kissed you, but there is a slight difference. Sunghoon kisses you like he’s fucking you. He’s kissing you as though to give you a sense of what to expect next.

Yes, he has every intention to fuck you and intoxicate you in ways that you’ll be crawling back for more.

With his hand placed protectively on your back while the other is gripping your ass cheek, he begins to move you around to give Jake a better view of you engaging in a lewd lip-lock with him. The water around you ripples violently from the sense of urgency in the way Sunghoon is migrating you before he decides to settle on the pool’s ledge and brings you to sit on his lap, where the water length is below your waistline.

You mewl into the wet kiss as he squeezes the flesh of your bum hard while his chest rumbles in satisfaction at the sound emitting from you that also shoots directly to his now-hardened cock.

Your hands press onto his bare, toned chest, pushing him as you attempt to break the kiss, needing air, but he faintly growls in return, sending vibrations to your swollen lips. His hand latches on your nape once more while his other arm around your waist tightens, locking you in place.

“Sunghoon─ wait!” You finally manage to break the lip lock and gasp for air, your chest heaving up and down while forbidden desires fog in your head. Your eyes briefly shift to where Jake was last seen, and he has long since disappeared from sight. “I think that’s enough.”

What Sunghoon does next takes you by great surprise. Given how you were a little distracted earlier searching for Jake, Sunghoon has adjusted his shorts and lowered them for his hardened cock to be let free from the confines.

“What are you doing?!” You accidentally release a shriek at the moment he easily lifts you up with one hand on your waist while the other multitasks by pushing aside your dusty pink underwear for easy access.

“Since you used me for your own gain, it’s fair that I do the same.” He says in a grunt as he aims his cock directly at where your hole is that it heats in anticipation despite your action in protest as you attempt to push him away in the chest.

“Sunghoon─” An airy moan leaves your swollen lips as soon as he presses your body down on him, leaving you no choice but to allow yourself to sink onto his dick despite the abrupt breach into the entry that has you whimpering in pain.

“Fuck, how are you still tight even after letting Jake use you?” He hisses lowly at the sensation of your velvety walls enveloping him while your face contorts into a painful pleasure with a broken gasp emitting from you.

“The others might see us.” You manage to utter in a whimper, staring at his face with glistening eyes. Despite your walls hugging him snugly, you still feel the pain of having to adjust to his girth.

You were right. He is thicker than Jake.

The familiarity of wickedness glints in his eye. “That’s the thrilling part, princess.”

A fallen teardrop slides down your cheek as you weakly protest. “But─”

“Shhhh.” Sunghoon’s palm covers your mouth, muffling your whimpers that sound surprisingly adorable to him. The corners of his lips tip up a smirk, his fang-like teeth peeking. “You’re gonna sit on my lap and cockwarm me like a good girl until I say we’re done, understood?”

A shiver runs down your spine upon detecting the danger lurking, which belies his tone as well as the way he is gazing at you. Feeling fearful of him, you hesitantly acquiesce with a head nod, and at the same time, your walls are squeezing around him upon hearing the familiar rowdy commotion, including the jovial laughter belonging to your friends.

Sunghoon’s smirk deepens as he feels it, trying his utmost not to thrust his dick into you. “You fucking like the idea of anyone stumbling upon us with my dick into your sweet cunt, don’t ya, princess?”

“No.” You answer feebly as you shake your head, your glistening eyes remain imploring him while your clenched fists rest on his toned chest.

“No?” Sunghoon’s cold chuckles belie the degradation that has your walls squeezing around him once more. You gasp in shock at the moment he grabs a fist of your hair and pulls it to the back, forcing you to look up at the sky.

Your heart pounds harder against your chest as soon as his lips come into contact with your throat before biting down on the skin almost painfully, which has you swallowing down a painful whimper.

Shivers run down your spine as he drags the tip of his nose upward on your throat, inhaling your scent, until he finally reaches your ear, licking the shell sensually. “You can’t fool me, princess. Whatever you say doesn’t match the way your cunt feels about my dick.” He whispers darkly in your ear, his hand tugging at your hair hard while your scalp is begging for mercy.

“Hoonie, please.” You utter weakly, your voice comes out shaky, and you’re uncertain whether you’re needy or simply fearful of anyone — most of all your friends — stumbling upon both of you.

Something foreign stirs within him at the nickname that left your mouth. He quickly disregards it before leaning his back against the tiles and pulling you to him, resulting in you falling forward while you gasp at the dragging sensation of his cock against your walls.

“Keep your mouth shut, and don’t you dare fuck yourself on my dick yet, or I swear you won’t be allowed to cum.” He warns you, smirking as he gets aroused by the sight of you in tears. His fingers stroke your cheek delicately before he cradles the cusp of your jaw. “Understood?”

“Yes.” You murmur weakly, desperate to feel some friction.

His eyebrow is raised. “Yes what?”

“Yes, sir.” You whisper as the word itself automatically comes to mind, earning yourself another sinister grin from him.

Sunghoon leans back leisurely, his smirk widening at the sight of your desperation and neediness written all over your pretty features. He is surprised at himself for self-restraint in thrusting his cock into your pulsating cunt since he is not a man of patience. It is highly due to the fact that he relishes the tears leaking from your eyes right now, loving that you needed to be fucked by him.

Oh, you will get it, alright.

You don’t know how long you’ve been cockwarming him, but long enough to feel your pussy dripping and your walls clenching around him every once in a while. It simply baffles you that Sunghoon has more self-restraint than you expected.

“Sunghoon.” You begin to whine, jutting your lips into a pout. You push your chest slightly outward with your back arched in an attempt to entice him with your plump breasts, and you swear your nipples are hardened by the warm sensation of his thickness filling you.

A muscle pulses in his jaw while his callous eyes remain on your face, preventing himself from indulging you. “I told you to keep your mouth shut, did I not?”

“Please.” Your voice comes out in a slur as you intentionally clench your walls around his cock, and you can feel him twitching.

You have no idea what possesses you, but you daringly lean your body forward until your breasts are pressed against his toned chest, inching your face closer to his where a whiff of cigarette scent hits you.

Fluttering your eyelashes cunningly while your doe eyes remain feigning innocence, you bite down your bottom lip sensually, attempting to entice him with your allure.

“Please fuck me, Hoonie.” Your soft voice comes out in a breathless moan, yet it is laden with lust.

Inwardly, you cringe at yourself. You hope that your attempt at flirting works on him.

Little do you know, that was his last straw.

Time goes still for a fleeting moment as you get lost in the depths of his dark eyes that swim with inexplicable whirlpools of emotions. The placement of his hands on your waist snaps you out of the trance, and before you can even utter a word, he lifts you up just slightly before pressing you down on his length hard, eliciting a loud, startled gasp from you.

Your mouth parts open at the impact while your walls pulsate in anticipation, despite still having a hard time adjusting to his girth. You can feel him so deeply, and that’s just a single thrust.

“Sunghoon─” A loud moan tears from your throat as soon as he repeats the previous action again, adding more touch as he bucks his hips up into you, allowing you to feel him deeply as the tip nearly hits your cervix while your tits jiggle from the impact.

“You wanted to get fucked, right?” Sunghoon asks rhetorically in between bated breaths. The corner of his pink lips lifts into a smirk, while wickedness glints in his eyes amidst the carnal lust. “You’ll get fucked, alright, and I’ll be the one to fuck you dumb.” He snarls coldly before lifting you and pressing you down on him again.

Another moan leaves your lips before he grabs you by the nape to pull you towards him, connecting his lips with yours, teeth clashing and tongues meshing. The pace he sets is hard and slow, yet each thrust and bounce feels more impactful than the previous, more deeper, as though he is trying to attain something in the wet wonders of your delicious cavity.

More moans spill from your lips as you bounce on his cock, causing your tits to jiggle and look enticing to his eyes before he gropes one flesh and squeezes it painfully, relishing the plumpness of your breast. His other hand remains on your waist to lift and pull you down with ease.

“Say my name, princess.” Sunghoon grits his teeth as the sound of your pretty moans sounds heavenly to his ears and goes straight to his raging cock.

“S-Sunghoon.” You stutter in a moan, your mind is filled with Sunghoon and his cock, which is stuffing your cavity full.

His ravenous eyes flicker down at your swollen lips before he leans forward to capture them in a searing kiss, swallowing each of your moans. “Again.” He murmurs wetly against your lips.

“Hoonie!” You moan out loud, your eyes rolling, and your back goes arching as your arms that are looped around his neck pull him closer to you when he bucks his hips up, feeling the tip hitting your cervix.

His cock twitches inside of you, loving how his name sounds coming from your pretty lips. His arms slither around your waist to pull you impossibly closer until your chests touch, changing the pace as he goes fast and hard.

You bite down your bottom lip, wanting to tone down your moans a notch. His eyes darken at the sight, while something so primal surfaces within him upon seeing how sinful yet angelic you look right now.

Grabbing your chin harshly, his thumb is placed below your bottom lip to pull down the skin, forcing your teeth to release it before he kisses you again, but this time, it feels unforgiving, his tongue meshing against yours, and it is a kiss that has you moaning hotly into his mouth until you swear you feel your drools from the corner of your lips.

You whimper as soon as his teeth bite down your bottom lip harshly, not letting go as he nips and suckles it until it draws blood. But instead of being afraid, your arousal becomes tenfold as the metallic taste reaches your tongue.

The aquatic waves dance around your bodies, with how vigorously he is fucking into you, how he’s kissing and biting your lips, and even exchanging saliva. It feels nasty, yet you want more.

You pull away from the breathtaking kiss that has you gasping for air while Sunghoon marvels at how fucking alluring your swollen lips are, which look ruined and smeared with your blood by how hard he bit you. A satisfied smirk draws on his lips.

“Tell me that you love it.” He commands in a husky voice, holding you by the waist to help you as he sees how evident your lack of stamina is.

“I love it.” You whimper, nearly falling into him because of how exhausted you already are, but he holds you steady with firm eyes.

“Tell me that you love my cock.” He breathes out, grunting out a pleasurable moan as your walls clench around him for the ninth time. “Tell me that you love being my dumb cockslut.”

“I love your cock!” You moan out loud, unable to silence yourself. Your hands grip his broad shoulders tightly, with your nails sinking into his skin as he delivers another shallow thrust that has you throwing your head to the back, allowing his eyes to feast on your neck, which the concealer has long since washed away, now revealing his mark from yesterday.

“And?” He asks in a growl, leaning down with the tip of his nose grazing against your throat before biting down on your skin without any leniency.

You relentlessly bounce and rut your hips against him, your clit deliciously rubbing against his pelvis, which amplifies your impending orgasm. Your back is arched, with your chest occasionally hitting his underjaw.

Upon hearing no coherent response from you, he growls against your skin once more before moving to where his prominent mark is and biting it down threateningly. Pain shoots in your neck at how unforgiving he is while biting your skin and fucking into you.

“And?” He repeats again, and this time, his word manages to register into your brain, which lacks coherence.

“I─” Your breath catches in your throat. “I love being your dumb cockslut.”

“That’s fucking right.” He grunts, grabbing a fist of your drenched hair to tug it, forcing you to look at him with lidded eyes. “You’re my personal slut. Only I get to fuck you like this.”

“Yes.” You gasp, regaining a short period of vitality, which you grasp to fuck yourself onto his dick as the water around you splashes.

His grip tightens on your hair as your scalp begs for mercy. “Yes what?”

“Yes sir!” Your moans sound like a broken record as tears leak from your eyes. Still in delirium, your impending orgasm comes knocking on the door violently, and the knot in your stomach becomes unbearable.

“Don’t cum.” He grits his teeth, his eyes darkening as he feels your walls pulsating unrelentingly. “Don’t you dare fucking cum.”

But you don’t listen to him.

With one last broken moan, you finally come from your delirious high with your body jolting in pleasure and your hips rutting against him, making a mess all over his cock. Your chest heaves up and down as you pant heavily, still moving your hips back and forth, calming down from your high.

Your body goes limp as you allow yourself to rest your chin on his shoulder, with your cheek in contact with the side of his neck. Your heavy panting turns to a whimper while you shiver from his fingers stroking your back, which feel deceptive.

Sunghoon hums, kissing your ear before whispering darkly, “You came without my permission, princess.” He pauses, removing his still-hardened cock from your cunt and eliciting a whimper from you. He wraps your legs around his waist while still buried in your cunt before carrying you with his hands, supporting your derrerié, and proceeding to leave the pool.

Instinctively, your arms loop around his neck while your body shivers from the cold temperature. “Where are you bringing me?” You ask in a slur while the delirious haze remains in your mind.

Sunghoon doesn’t respond, his mind is occupied by the thought of you, you, and your pussy which feels like his new heaven. With a kick to the backdoor of the chalet, he proceeds to enter, where the lights are dim and, thankfully, his best friends are still partying.

Your eyelids feel heavy as the exertion from the fucking finally dawns on you, but the moment your back hits the mattress, you snap your eyes wide open and realise that you are back in the room where you delivered your first blowjob to him.

“Hoonie?” Confusion laces in your tone while your voice comes out weak. You hear shufflings before a pair of hands grab you by the ankle and pull you roughly, eliciting a startled gasp from you.

“Here is what’s gonna happen.” His deep voice ignites the familiar arousal in your core as he hooks his fingers around the string of your bottom bikini before pulling them down in a rush. “I’m going to fuck you for as long as I want, and you’re going to cum again and again.”

“Hoonie, please.” You plead for leniency as he manhandles you, turning you around with your stomach flat on the drenched mattress. But your quivering cunt betrays you as soon as he spreads your legs. “No.” You whimper out as you shake your head while tears prick your eyes.

You yelp out as he lands a hard smack on your ass cheek. “I told you before, didn’t I?” His derogatory chuckles go straight to your cunt before he spanks your ass again, again, and again, until the tears finally spill from your eyes. “That you’ll be doing a lot of begging.”

With another spank, he grabs his hardened dick before aligning it with your hole. Upon hearing your pathetic whimpers, he scoffs before ramming into your hole without any warning.

“I fucking hate you.” He growls, gripping the flesh of your thighs. “You think you’re all pure and saint, but look at you.” He spanks your ass again. “A dirty fucking slut who needs to be stuffed with my cock every time.”

You cry out in both pain and pleasure as he continues to deliver hard yet deliberate thrusts that nearly have you seeing stars, your body jolting forward and by the impact while the sound of skin slapping from his thighs to your bums echoes loudly throughout his room.

“Please, please, please!” You plead out as your fingers claw at the bedsheets, coherency leaving you once more to which you have no idea why or what you are pleading him for.

You feel him leaning down from behind before grabbing a fistful of your dampened hair and pulling it to the back, forcing your back to arch prettily in his ravenous eyes. His hot breath hits your skin as he begins to speak to your ear, “Only disobedient sluts like you don’t deserve to be shown mercy.”

You moan out in between broken sobs, which he relishes while your walls clench hard around his shaft upon the degradation. You hate that you love how mean he is to you, and you hate yourself for wanting more.

He chuckles darkly, his hand making its descent to your neck to grab it threateningly, blocking your airways, which has your heart pumping in panic while you frantically claw at the wrinkled bed sheets.

“I knew you were a slut.” He spits, the hatred in his tone is palpable, which matches how he is fucking into you from the back. “Deep down, you love it when I’m mean to you.”

“Sunghoon!” You utter his name in staggering breaths, feeling his fingers tighten around your neck while your eyes roll to the back at the familiar pleasure with which you find yourself meeting his thrust voluntarily.

“Oh? The slut is enjoying this.” Sunghoon breathes out, his orgasm is impending, but he knows he can’t cum yet unless you’re looking at him. He unsheathes his cock from your gaping hole, and upon hearing your whimper, he spanks your ass again before turning you around.

His tongue slides across his bottom lip as his eyes rake all over your glory. The crystalline tears stain your cheeks while your swollen red lips jut in a pout as you weep silently from the orgasm that was ripped from you.

Spreading your flexible legs, he grabs his cock and aims it into your hole before ramming into you once more, causing your jaw to slacken as your walls have yet to grow accustomed to his size.

“Hoonie.” You whisper weakly, staring into his wicked gaze through teary eyes. Your heart flutters when he presses a deep kiss on your forehead while his hard, deep thrusts remain constant.

“Don’t worry, princess. I’m going to make you cum until you can’t take it.” He croons to you, his fingers stroking your cheek delicately before going down to grip your chin. “Open your mouth.”

Not wanting to face his wrath, your quivering lips slowly part open, and he wastes no time in spitting into your mouth, eliciting a moan from you. “Now swallow.”

You close your mouth, your throat bobbing up and down as you swallow his thick spit. Oh, it’s fucking nasty, but you love it.

“Good fucking girl.” He whispers amorously, his lips unfurling a smirk before pressing his lips against yours in a searing kiss while he maintains the tandem of his vigorous thrusts into your pulsating cunt.

The familiar knot is in your tummy while your walls clench around him hard. “Fuck, that’s it. Squeeze my cock just like that.” His deep moan has you clenching again while his cock twitches inside of you. “I’m gonna cum inside you, princess.”

With one last thrust, his hips smack against yours painfully as he finally comes undone. Grunts of pleasurable moans emit from him while you marvel at how attractive he looks ─ with the sweat dripping down his jaw to his neck and the rose tattoo at the side of his hip, his toned muscles look more prominent than earlier.

Your walls clench around him again upon seeing how handsome he looks. Your hips buck up as you grind on his pelvis, wanting to attain your orgasm as it is peaking. When your fingers lower to rub your clit in a circle, his smirk widens at this before he resumes to thrust into you.

The squelching sound from you as his cum gush from your pussy as he fucks into you sounds utterly obscene, but it adds fuel to your arousal.

Sunghoon watches in admiration and lust as you arch your back with your neck bared in his eyes, moaning loudly as you come undone for the second time, your body in a seizure-like motion while he holds and rubs your trembling thighs.

Sunghoon leans into you to give a kiss to your throat while you moan weakly in response, but you manage to find energy as your fingers make their ascent to his dampened hair, tugging at the roots occasionally at the sensation of his cock dragging against your walls as he thrusts into your pliant body.

“We’re not done yet, princess.” He murmurs, peppering kisses and licks on your neck before moving upward to claim your lips, not having enough of you.

As he forces you to open your mouth for him to spit into your cavern again, you know that you are too far gone, succumbing to the pure ecstasy of him fucking into you like it’s the first time as you become pliant for him.

“One more. You can take it.” He grunts against your willowy moist lips, reinserting his cock into your sopping cunt as his hips snap harshly against yours after he comes undone on your tummy messily while your eyelids are becoming droopy, teetering by the immense painful pleasure he is giving you.

You have no idea how long he has been fucking into you, but as your orgasm comes crashing down violently as your body convulses with sobs spilling from your lips, you realise that one more is never enough.

Earlier, you woke up to an empty bed with no sight of Sunghoon, but the familiar scent of his strong cologne attested to his presence in the room not too long ago. The disappointment that dawned on you waned when you spotted birth control pills along with a bottle of mineral water on the nightstand, and you swore you felt something move within you towards the guy who hates you.

Presently, you are attempting to make your escape from the very chalet where Sunghoon and his best friends temporarily reside. Keyword, attempting. Your legs are still incredibly sore from the aftermath, while every inch of your body aches tremendously with each step you take towards the familiar backdoor when Sunghoon brought you into their chalet last night.

You recall seeing the mark you concealed yesterday, which looked glaringly red with a faint tooth bite mark when you stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror. The mortification splashed onto you when you saw two more similar marks on your neck, each mark is a testament to Sunghoon’s proprietary claim over you, reminding you that you belong to him even if you hate him.

As soon as you push the door open, the warm crisp of afternoon air greets your skin, while the distinct smell of chlorine and the rowdy commotion from the bunch of knights draw your attention to the swimming pool just nearby, where you are standing outside of the chalet.

Your cheeks paint a delicate pink at the realisation that they are in the very pool where Sunghoon fucked you last night. Clearing your throat as you clutch the strap of your tote bag slinging over your shoulder, you resume your journey to search for your friends, if they are still here.

It appears that your movement captures unwanted attention from the unfavourable bunch, especially in the way you walk with an obvious struggle. You become flustered when those knights peer at you with suggestive smirks and winks, while some of them catcalling you with jeering remarks. There is no doubt that your loudness could be heard last night.

Ignoring them, you continue to advance with the intention of disappearing from their sight. Your stomach grumbles on cue just as the delectable smell coming from the barbeques pervades your senses. You turn to the right corner and halt your steps at the sight of familiar faces.

Yeonjun is helping out Jay with the food while Heeseung and Jake are seated with unfamiliar ladies and guys. You tear your gaze off of them as soon as one of the girls touches Jake’s shoulder. It seems that no one realises your presence yet, so you proceed to head in the other direction with the intention to continue your search despite your grumbling stomach.

But you bump into a solid chest, and the familiar cologne is enough for you to know who the person is.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Sunghoon asks gruffly, his hands are gripping your tensed shoulders tight, prompting you to glance at him.

Your heart flutters familiarly as your eyes are drinking in his attractiveness, clad in a white tee that looks taut on his body with a black leather jacket hugging him. His hair looks wavy and completely tousled, and you are tempted to adjust his hair neatly. Nevertheless, he looks good, along with a touch of him adorning the familiar browline glasses.

“I’m going to find my friends and get one of them to bring me back to the dorm.” You answer his question tentatively, hating how his steely gaze is colder than yesterday’s.

Sunghoon makes a ‘tsk’ sound that you frown at. “And you didn’t even think to wait for me in the room for me to fetch you?”

“You didn’t even specify anything! You just left me alone in the room! So how was I even supposed to know?” You accidentally raise the volume of your voice, drawing attention from some, including Jake’s. Your cheeks are reddened by the unwanted attention once more and by your foreign resentment towards Sunghoon.

You look away from Sunghoon’s inexplicable dark gaze, expecting him to retaliate or worse, but instead, his warm touch startles you as he drags you with him to where Yeonjun can be seen serving grilled sausages and other varieties of barbecued food to the others amiably.

“Y/N! Glad to see you’re still here.” Yeonjun greets you warmly with a foxy grin that you can’t help but reciprocate with a small smile.

Your breath hitches in your chest when Sunghoon places his hand on your lower back, prompting you to look at him standing next to you, whose face remains devoid of any traces of warmth.

“Some food for the lady here.” Sunghoon tells Yeonjun, to which the latter raises an inquisitive brow at the two of you upon noticing the close proximity.

“Coming right up!” Yeonjun says enthusiastically before grabbing a paper plate at the side and proceeding to fill it with varieties of the grilled food.

“What are you doing?” You ask Sunghoon in a terse whisper. “I told you that I was going to find my friends.”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Sunghoon scoffs coldly, not meeting your eyes, as he grabs the filled plate from Yeonjun before his firm hand on your back guides you to one of the vacant single seats.

You give him a bewildered stare just as he gives you the plate, which you hold keenly while your starving stomach is gnawing at you to shove the food into your mouth. “I don’t understand you, Sunghoon.” You murmur, defeated.

Sunghoon takes a seat, his steely eyes meeting yours with a single eyebrow arched at you and his hand patting on his thigh. “Sit.”

You hold back a remark as you comply, not wanting to aggravate the situation with the indescribable tension between the two of you. Despite your worry about crushing him with your weight, you reluctantly lower yourself to sit on his thighs. Your pulse drums in your ear as his arms slither around your waist to lock you in place, preventing you from any potential escape.

You remain frozen on top of him, feeling his hot breath hitting the back of your ear. “Eat.” His soft tone throws you off guard.

“Tell me why you are doing this first.” Your adamance elicits another ‘tsk’ from him.

“I don’t want you to walk around the resort with an empty stomach.” He caves in, but his tone remains impassive. “You’ll only be a bother if you faint out of nowhere from starvation.”

A frown touches your lips while your mind is in a state of confusion. “So you care about me?” The question accidentally slips past your lips.

His cold chuckles send shivers down your spine. “I don’t give a damn about you, princess.” His lips are brushing against your earlobe. “I hate you, or have you forgotten?”

It feels like a needle has pierced into your heart. With a shaky breath, you mutter, “But if you declared so, then why─”

You gasp softly as soon as his teeth nip at your earlobe while his arms tighten around your waist. “So many questions.” He tuts, lowering his head to bury his nose at the side of your exposed neck to inhale your natural sweet scent that is mixed with his familiar shower gel, to which his chest rumbles with approval as he hums.

“As I said before, you’re mine.” His soft tone feels deceptive, as do the kisses he trails wetly on your skin before his warm lips touch your bare shoulder, murmuring, “Which makes you my responsibility. Remember princess,”

He pauses, raising his head to whisper in your ear with a cold snarl that sends you shivers. “You’re mine to touch, mine to kiss, and mine to fuck, and you’ll take whatever I give you like an obedient slut you are.”

The degradation ignites the arousal that stirs in your core as you feel breathless. You shiver again as he places one last kiss on your pulse.

“Now, eat.”

You don’t need to be told for another time as you proceed to dig in grilled food that tastes delectable, all the while you remain seated on his thighs with his arms around your waist before unlocking them to touch, rub, and squeeze your plush thighs. At first, your body tenses at this, but soon, you have grown accustomed to his touch and perched comfortably on top of him.

You blush while maintaining your calmness when two of the knights make an approach and engage in a conversation with Sunghoon, and the fact that Sunghoon remains cool and impassive while his hands are on your thighs and waist as he converses with them completely baffles you.

“I’m done.” You tell him, showing him your empty plate, and when you take a glance at him, your cheeks flare lightly at the smirk on his lips.

“Good girl.” His palm squeezes your plumpness once more. “Do you want more?”

You immediately shake your head before giving him a nervous smile. “No, thank you. I’d like to resume searching for my friends now.”

“No.”

You blink your eyes at him, confused. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

“I’m not letting you go.” He states flatly.

“But I want to go back to my dorm.” You murmur, your pink lips jutting to a pout, and he wants nothing more than to kiss you until you are left breathless.

“I’ll send you back.” He pats your thigh, signalling you to stand, and you do. “Don’t forget to drink some water and wash your hands.”

Genuinely, you are completely baffled at yourself for wanting to heed his instructions despite a part of you wanting to get away from him as soon as possible. But eventually, you heed anyway.

As you quench your thirst with cold ice water, you feel a pair of eyes staring heatedly at your face, prompting you to turn your head to meet Jake’s eyes. You clench your jaw as the unpleasant memory of his abrupt coldness towards you replays in your mind, your hands slowly crushing the red cup. The corner of his lips seems to be lifting a subtle smile, but you roll your eyes at him before throwing the cup into the rubbish bin.

Your eyes catch sight of Sunghoon, who is holding two black helmets in his grasp while seeming to finish off the conversation with some guy before meeting your eyes and giving you a head nod. You quickly make your way towards him.

“What do you like?” Sunghoon asks as you fall in the same steps as him, following him to where he is guiding you to the parking lot.

You clutch on the strap of your tote bag, which almost slides off your shoulder. “Why?” You ask, bewildered by his behaviour once again.

“Just tell me what you like.” He grumbles, shoving his hand into the pocket of his pants.

You frown, but nonetheless, you tell him anyway. “I like reading books─”

You are cut off by his scoff. “Nerd.” He mumbles.

You make a face at him before continuing on. “As I was saying, I like reading books, the smell of books, food, cats, strawberries─ oh! and I also like to travel!” You answer rather enthusiastically, momentarily forgetting that the guy next to you despises you.

"You like to travel?" Interest furrows his eyebrows. "Have you ever been abroad?"

"No, but I plan to." You say, a hopeful glint in your eye. "I've always wanted to go to Milan."

Sunghoon seems to be ruminating about something before he shakes his head lightly at the thought. “And I’m guessing that your favourite colours are white and pink.” He says in a monotone manner, his face remaining impassive while his mind is jotting down every single thing you listed off.

“How did you know?” You ask, subconsciously touching your satin pink piece, which is knotted into a bow as it ties your hair into a half-up-do.

“Because you always wear white and pink on most days.” His cold scoff doesn’t even deter you from feeling something warm in your tummy. “What are your dislikes?”

“You.” You answer with zero hesitation, despite your voice wavering lightly. As you look around you, you notice that you have reached the parking lot.

Sunghoon only smirks lazily at you in response as he gives you the extra helmet, which you accept. “I hate you too, princess.”

“I never said I hated you.” You retort while busily wearing the helmet, your eyes glistening as you recall the bittersweet memory of Jake assisting you with his helmet.

“I just don’t like you. There’s a difference. Besides, you’re always mean to me.” You mumble, the helmet is now secured on you as you stare at him wearing it with ease before he pulls down the visor, obscuring his face wholly.

“Wait.” He removes his black leather jacket, and foam forms in your mouth as you salivate at the sight of his prominent bicep muscles, with the short sleeves looking taunt against them.

As he closes the gap between the two of you, your breath goes hitching in your throat with your heart pounding against your chest, watching behind your visor as he leans down with both arms around you to wrap his jacket around your waist, with the jacket’s back covering your revealing thighs by how short your white dress is.

“You’re all good?” His voice sounds deep with his head adorned with a helmet, sending flutters to your heart, and you blush when he pats your head gently before he begins to check how secure your helmet is and tightens the jacket around your waist.

Once you nod your head in response and attempt to climb on his sleek black bike, he takes you by surprise yet again, placing both hands on your waist from behind before assisting you in mounting his rather large bike. Surprisingly, you manage to balance yourself as he proceeds to mount next with less effort.

“Hold on to me.” He says as soon as he starts the ignition, you immediately latch your arms around his waist.

Though there is a niggling fear in you at the fact that you are riding a motorcycle once more, you feel oddly safe, especially when he touches your clasped hands as though he is making certain that you are holding on to him securely.

With the abrupt blaring engine that startles you, he proceeds to drive away from the parking lot, and once you two reach the main road, he wastes no time in speeding off, whereas you have no notion of what awaits you next.

His fingers intertwined with yours, holding your hand firmly as if he were wary of you fleeing him. Your eyes twitch at the giggles from the girls walking past the two of you as they are blatantly whispering and admiring at the sight of Sunghoon, whose face is stoic.

You look at him with a frown, wondering if he heard them or not, but the look on his face tells you that he doesn't, when in actuality he can’t be bothered. You sigh inaudibly, knowing that you can’t blame those girls since Sunghoon is undoubtedly attractive.

It isn’t long until you finally arrive at the very place you have been wanting to go, but you don’t have the opportunity since it’s miles away from campus, and you can’t even ask your girls to drive you since you know that they’re busy at times.

On the other hand, Sunghoon watches you, faltering at the sight of your beautiful eyes sparkling with the beaming lights in the establishment reflecting them as you look at your surroundings, your pink lips unfurling a soft smile that has his throat bobbing up and down as he swallows.

You look so innocent, so fucking pure — nothing in comparison to how you looked last night.

But the smile on your lips drops as you look at him, puzzled. “Why did you bring me here?”

“You said you liked books, right?” He raises his eyebrow at you. “Here we are, princess. Pick any books you like. I’ll be paying.”

This time, there are butterflies fluttering annoyingly in your tummy. Your eyes widen as you stare at him in incredulity. “Are you joking?”

“Do I look like I’m laughing?” He deadpans.

“But why???” You are rendered speechless, truly, while your lips remain parted.

“When I said that you’re my responsibility, I meant that.” He murmurs, pulling you closer to him as he tugs at your hand. Gazing deeply into your eyes, his other hand reaches up to grip your chin, his thumb moving to brush your bottom lip sensually. “And that includes catering to whatever you want or need. Now, no more questions from you.”

Sunghoon releases you while you are already missing the warmth of his hand on yours. He shoves both hands into his pockets before gesturing his head to you to proceed. “Go on, princess. Grab the basket and pick any books you like.”

Of course, you hesitate since you hate it whenever someone spends their money on you, making you feel guilty, but the look in his dark gaze compels you to turn around to grab a grey basket before inviting yourself to venture into the wonders of the massive premium book store while he trails behind you leisurely, enjoying how there is a discernible bouncing excitement with each step you take, which brings a smirk to his lips.

Sunghoon has no idea why he is even doing this, even after railing you last night to the point where you cried relentlessly. As a matter of fact, he has never spent his money on the girls he's been with before.

So why, what, and how the fuck did you manage to get him to do this?

Long minutes have passed since you’ve begun your avid search for the books that you have long since noted to buy once you receive your next allowance from your father. The content smile remains on your face while your keen eyes are scanning the books arrayed on the fourth shelf, your fingertips trailing and brushing the spines in a delicate manner that captivates his attention.

On the other hand, boredom strikes Sunghoon to the point where he feels restless, needing to head outside for a stick or two, but he doesn’t want to leave your side, not even a second. Plus, the serenity emanating from you enthrals him with his eyes remaining glued to your face. It’s like he is utterly hypnotised, especially when you look at him with a gentle smile, the dimples appearing on your cheeks, as you show him the books of your liking from time to time.

“It’s a series?” Your soft voice draws his attention to you. With his arms folded across his chest as he leans sideways against the shelf, his sharp eyes fall to your heavenly side profile, noticing the small pout on your luscious lips and the glinting disappointment in your eyes as you look down at the book in your hand.

Sunghoon leans away from the shelf and tucks his hand in his pocket, sauntering towards you. “What’s wrong?”

The moment you look at him, he has had to suck in a sharp breath subtly at your pretty doe eyes, which does something to him. You show him the book in your hand. “I wanted this, but it turns out that it’s actually a series consisting of four books.”

He cocks an eyebrow at you. “So buy all of it, then.” He states the obvious.

You shake your head in response. “This is the first book in the series. The others have yet to be released.” A sigh leaves your lips as you stare at the book in your grasp. “I guess I’ll just buy this next time.”

“Why?” He asks, frowning.

“Just because.” You shrug your shoulders. “I hate waiting patiently for the other books in the series to be published after reading the first book. So I’d rather wait for all to be completed, and then I’ll read.”

“What’s this about anyway?” He snatches the book from your hand, drawing a disbelieving gasp from you.

With a petty huff, you explain shortly. “It’s about romance. A billionaire in a contractual marriage with his personal assistant.”

“So you’re into that type of shit, huh?” He scoffs, flipping through the pages uninterestedly, but then a smirk touches his lips as his eyes flicker to yours. “Does it have, what do you call that, smut?”

To his surprise, your rosy cheeks deepen while you avoid his gaze. “Yes.” You answer meekly.

Scoffing again with the smirk persisting on his lips, he closes the book with one hand before lowering it, now stepping closer to you. “Naughty girl. It turns out that the renowned Catholic girl is not as innocent as everyone thinks.” He drawls out, enjoying how you look flustered under his teasing gaze.

You back away from him, staggering as his domineering aura feels suffocating. Your back hits the shelf behind you while your breath catches in your throat at the close proximity between you and him as he stands directly in front of you.

“I don’t read smuts.” You attempt to assert, but you deflate as his dark eyes penetrate into yours and his smirk taunts you. You swallow harshly. “I-I skipped those parts. I’m only in it for the actual plot.” You whisper, your eyes lowering to stare at his lips.

“Uhuh.” He isn’t convinced, but nonetheless, he actually doesn’t give a fuck about it. What matters to him is that you look so fucking pretty being shy and nervous because of him.

Sunghoon forces you to look back into his eyes as he grips your chin firmly. The book has fallen from his grasp, landing on the carpeted floor with a thud. “Just buy the book. I’ll pre-order the other books in the series for you.”

You don’t even have the chance to protest when he kisses you, igniting the familiar electrifying spark in you, and you gasp as he nips your bottom lip rather gently this time, your lips parting open for him to welcome his wet muscle to invade your cavern.

The butterflies intensify in your tummy as he holds your waist, pinning you against the shelf while your hands slither upward on his chest, relishing how toned he feels beneath the thin material of his shirt before wrapping your arms around his neck. You nearly breathe out a moan into his hot mouth, tongues meshing wetly, before resuming the kiss.

But your eyes snap open at the sound of chuckles and commotion by the shelf behind where you two are, prompting you to pull away from the addictive kiss.

“We’re in public.” You murmur to him, yet you still hold him close to you. Leaning down to your neck, he presses a soft, gentle kiss at where one of his marks is, eliciting a gasp from you while your core begins to heat up at the sensation of his wet muscle licking your hickey. “Hoonie.”

He groans lowly at the familiar nickname on your pretty lips in a whine, his hands squeezing your waist while his dick twitches, yearning to hear you moaning his name again. He withdraws from you, smirking at the glinting lust in your pretty eyes.

“Are you done picking out the books you like?” He asks.

“Yeah.” You answer breathlessly from the short yet fervent lip lock.

“Good.” He leans down to kiss you, but you press your index finger against his chasing lips.

“Not here. Anyone might see us.” You whisper frantically as he lowers your finger.

His dark eyes glint wickedly. “We’ll be giving them a free show, then.”

He slams his lips against yours, swallowing your gasp, before he finally has you melting against him with the searing kiss, his arm encasing your waist possessively while the other is placed on the shelf next to your head.

The sound of your wet lips smacking against each other is conspicuous to your ears, igniting the familiar arousal that prompts you to raise your knee and slide up against the side of his leg before locking your leg around his.

Your heart flutters as he chuckles into the kiss. “Eager are we now, princess?” He murmurs breathily, enjoying how your hands are frantically roaming all over his chest before they move to his neck to pull him down, deepening the kiss.

The both of you continue to make out like two hormonal teenagers in the middle of the bookstore, and you have no idea how long it lasts until he finally withdraws from you, panting slightly as his tongue slides across his bottom lip.

His dark eyes drink in your dazed state, admiring how your luscious lips look swollen from the aftermath, with heavy pants leaving them. With a smirk on his lips, he grabs the book from the floor to arrange it back on the shelf before taking out a new one. He moves to the side to place the book in and grabs the heavy basket that feels lightweight to him before extending his hand towards you.

You gladly accept his hand, his fingers instantly intertwining with yours, before you two advance forward, leaving only the ambience from your making-out session teeming in the air.

“Thank you.” You say quietly, your small smile of gratitude casts at him. “How could I ever repay you?”

“You don’t have to─” He pauses as something comes to mind. He shoots you a suggestive smirk. “Meet me at the palace tomorrow. I’ll text you the time.”

Least to say that you are already looking forward to tomorrow.

You hear them, figuratively, your angels chastising you for your recent misconduct in breaching the ethics you should have retained. The sensible part of you has been reeling in immense guilt, pleading with you to seek forgiveness again, but the other part of you feels malignly anew, beguiling you into committing sins and coaxing your penitence with the assurance of being pardoned over and over.

It is cliché, but your mind is in a waging war by the light and darkness within you, leaving you to grapple with whatever is left of your sanity with each step you stride towards him as he stands by the familiar entrance with his arms crossed over his chest as he leans sideways against the door, his pink lips that have been in your mind unfurl a soft smirk while his eyes drink you in, darkening by each passing second.

Earlier today, you decided to skip two classes, which weren’t mandatory and unlike you, but you didn’t care enough. You called Winter and Karina over, the two girls whom you trusted enough to help beautify you. Winter had no notion and simply assumed that you found another guy to move on from Jake, whereas Karina grasped quickly and seemed rather excited for you since she was the only one who knew about you and Sunghoon.

You feel bolder, and you love the overall look they provided you with their assistance. The black fishnet tights reach at your waistline, and with the black straps around your waist that are visible since you are wearing a graphic white crop top and paired it up with a tight dark chequered skirt, the length reaches way above your thigh area. Your brunette waves have been styled in your wonted coiffure with a white satin piece.

The look in his eyes elevates your self-confidence and gives you a sense of satisfaction at the display of his frontage, which seems rather pleased. Of course, you had to dress up all prettily for him since he had specifically requested you to. After all, you’re his slut.

Once you are in his reach, he pulls you inside in a haste, eliciting giggles from you that sound melodious instead of irksome, which he used to find so.

Sunghoon presses his index fingers against your smiling lips, the mischief dancing in his eyes while the smirk persists on his lips. “You have to be quiet, princess. Jake’s upstairs.” He whispers, and this time, hints of devilry meld with mischief. "We wouldn't want him to get all jealous now, do we? Or do you actually want that?”

“Maybe.” You shrug your shoulders, but the thought of making Jake jealous is enticing to you. “I don’t care about him anymore.” Yet, your declaration isn’t parallel to the unspoken feelings that remain lurking in you.

Sure, you still feel resentment and bitterness towards him, but you can never look past the fact that you still like him, and it is beyond anything platonic. At the same time, you yearn for and crave Sunghoon and his dark allure, which intoxicates you into wanting more as he proceeds to guide you to the second floor.

“Where are we going?” You ask in a hushed tone, enjoying the warmth of his palm on yours.

“We’re going to watch a movie first.” He tells you. “Then I’m going to show you the library.”

Your face beams with dimples on your cheeks. “There’s a library here?”

“Yeah, but most of the shelves are empty since no one really uses the library anymore.” He clears his throat, seeming to be avoiding your gaze. “Don’t worry. I called the book delivery service, and they’ll be coming here tomorrow to replenish those shelves with the latest published books.”

There it goes again — the fluttery feeling in you that makes your cheeks turn rosier. “You did that for me?”

“Of course. How else will I get you to come here often?” He says cockily, causing you to roll your eyes at him, but the soft smile curving at your lips betrays you.

Soon, you and Sunghoon have settled in the familiar cinema, and a wave of nostalgia hits you like a whiplash, painfully reminding you of a certain memory of you and Jake.

Upon seeing your glossy eyes, Sunghoon, who is seated closely next to you, frowns at this. He tightens your intertwined hands, bringing your attention to his stern face. “What’s wrong?”

You adorn a lopsided smile while forcing yourself to bury that memory in the wreckage of your mind. “Nothing. I just feel a little cold.”

“Come here, princess.” He instructs sternly, to which you obediently comply, rising from the couch to perch on his thighs, and this time, you feel comfortable enough that even his hardness on your bum doesn’t even bother you.

The movie is now playing, an action genre that captures your interest, but soon it wanes as you get distracted by the heat of his touch, his palms on your thighs, holding you possessively even when no one is around. Your eyes flicker down, admiring the veins protruding from his hands attractively and the black rings adorning his fingers.

Indulging your curiosity, you decide to play with his slender fingers, touching and fiddling with them. This draws his attention from the massive screen to you.

“What are you doing?” He asks, cocking an eyebrow when you look over your shoulder with a sheepish smile.

“I’m bored, Hoonie.” You have long since caught on to the fact that he appears heavily affected whenever you call him by that. You smile inwardly upon seeing his nose flaring. With a beguiling pout as you tilt your body to face him better, you lean forward to fiddle with the strings of his grey hoodie. “Can we do something else?”

You are certain that he will be swayed by your attempt at flirting once again, but to your disappointment, he simply smirks and pats your waist. “Focus on the movie, princess, or I won’t be showing you the library.”

Huffing out pettily, you return to your original position, purposefully wiggling your ass against his hardened dick that already feels painful, resulting in him gritting his teeth with his jaw clenched as he retains decorum.

Sure, you look absolutely fuckable, but he isn’t about to indulge you so soon.

You force yourself to watch the boring movie with your arms crossed below your chest, feeling annoyed and hotly bothered by the heat in your core that decides to stir at the wrong time.

Feeling a little defiant, you intentionally move and fidget on top of him once more, but as soon as you feel his hands squeezing the flesh of your thighs, a concoction of trepidation and excitement evokes in you.

His bated breaths hit your earlobe. “Don’t fucking move.” He warns you harshly as you bite down on your bottom lip.

“I wasn’t.” Your lie sounds so innocent coming from your lips, and you proceed to make the slightest move that feels impactful on his now-raging cock beneath the confines of his garments.

“You think you’re being fucking cute, yeah?” His soft whisper sounds deadly, while the smile on your lips seems to be widening.

“No.” You drawl, your mischief only adding fuel to his anger and libido.

“Yeah, you’re so gonna get it, princess.” He squeezes your thigh once more. “Now focus on the fucking movie.”

The shower head has been running idly, allowing the hot steam to create a mist that occupies every space in the spacious bathroom. The red LED fluorescence in the bathroom is a reflection of the blasphemous deed you are presently engaging in with him, of your own accord.

The sound of skins slapping against each other bounces off these tiles while each pretty moan from your swollen, bruised lips amplifies his primal desire for you, his eyes darkening at the beautiful sight of your moist back in a perfect arch as he continues to pound into you from the back without any ounce of mercy.

Your palms desperately hold onto the tempered glass to keep your upper body from falling due to his unyielding thrusts. Your walls pulsate with each thrust he delivers, mixing with both pain and pleasure from his girth that feels full inside of you, yet you don’t stop fucking back on him.

“Fuck yeah.” His husky, attractive voice goes straight to your cunt as your walls clench around him, and your body jolts in surprise as he spanks your ass for another time. “You riled me up on purpose, didn’t you? Fucking slut.” He spits, spanking you again and eliciting another moan from you.

“Hoonie.” You moan out again, whimpering as he spanks you again. Your ass feels sore from getting spanked earlier on his bed before he brought you here. “H-Hurts.”

“Yeah? That fucking hurts?” He says harshly in between bated breaths. He rubs your sore ass deceptively before landing another smack, this time bringing tears to your eyes. “That’s how it felt when you wiggled and moved your cute ass on my dick earlier.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” You plead, your hanging boobs are starting to hurt from jiggling by how hard he is fucking into you, while the slicks of your arousal can be heard obscenely with each hard yet deliberate thrust he delivers. Soon, your orgasm is impending.

“Apologise all you want, because I’m not going to stop fucking this sweet pussy.” He snarls coldly while a sob leaves your lips, feeling his fingers tangled in your drenched hair before pulling your head to the back and forcing your body to flush against him.

“You’re so fucking wet.” He breathes out harshly, kissing your cheek. “All wet for my cock, dirty fucking slut.”

His fingers rub the hard nub, stimulating the bundle of nerves, and his other hand is palming and gripping your tits roughly, occasionally tweaking and pinching your hardened nipple, amplifying your pleasure.

Your eyes roll to the back, getting lost in the delirium with more moans tumbling past your lips, and you hear his harsh pants from his lips next to your ear. His dirty talk arouses you even more.

“Pissed me off again like that, and this is what happens.” He grunts, relishing the sound of your pretty cries and moans that only fuel him. “Rutting on me like a bitch in heat.” He lands a sharp smack on your reddened ass. “You wanna get fucked so bad, yeah? Now you’re gonna get fucked dumb.”

“Sunghoon!” You scream his name, your body convulsing while your knees buckle underneath you. Your orgasm comes crashing down violently on you as you cum hard all over his cock, your body convulsing.

“Yeah, make a fucking mess all over me just like that.” He doesn’t relent, continuously fucking into your sopping cunt as overstimulation dawns on you while his fingers remain flickering and rubbing your clit. His moan arouses you once more. “I’m gonna cum in this pussy.”

With one last thrust, he goes still, holding you tightly close to him while your cunt milks his cock with your walls pulsating. He groans at the delicious sensation of your cunt before placing a kiss on your bare shoulder. “Fucking pussy made perfect for me, yeah?” He whispers amorously, trailing his kisses on your shoulder blade before unsheathing his cock from your gaping hole.

Sunghoon forces you to bend down, with your hands automatically planting onto the tempered glass and his legs forcing yours apart. Crouching down, both of his hands spread your ass cheeks, and another groan emits from him at the sight of your cum and his mixed together as they slowly leak from your folds.

Your eyes are becoming droopy, but as soon as you feel the sensation of him spitting onto your cunt, your eyes widen before a breathy moan leaves your lips as he plunges two fingers into your leaking hole.

“Hoonie.” You whimper, feeling utterly overstimulated, but your body betrays you as you fuck yourself onto his fingers with an arched back.

With a smirk on his lips, he withdraws his fingers from you, causing you to sob out in frustration. “Get on your knees, princess.”

Despite your aching body, you eagerly heed his command, your knees in contact with the toilet tiles, while your eyes feast at the sight of his nearly erect cock in front of you.

“Go on. Suck me good like the cockslut you are.” He orders mockingly, and wanting to please him, you grab his length, recalling lesson one and applying it.

Sunghoon throws his head to the back with his hand on your head to control your movement as you take him deep in your mouth until the tip hits the back of your throat. “That’s it. Take me like the hungry slut you are.” He spits at you while you moan in response, sending vibrations to his cock.

Your knees are starting to feel sore, and your jaw is starting to hurt from his girth with your spits drooling down to your chin, but you are determined to get him to cum. His grunts, moans, and dirty talk all go straight to your sopping cunt, spurring you to rub your clit with your fingers.

“I’m gonna fucking cum.” He announces, his jaw clenching while his dark eyes meet yours as you look up at him with fluttery eyelashes, taking him deeper and struggling to breathe. He grips your hair tight, practically using your mouth as if it’s your pussy and fucks into you, causing your nose to hit his pelvis. “Fucking take it and swallow my cum.” He releases a guttural growl before holding your head still as he finally cums into your throat.

You swallow his cum as though you have been deprived of it, earning yourself a satisfied smirk from him. You withdraw from him, gasping loudly with your chest heaving up and down. Everything hurts, yet your mind remains in bliss with the smell of soap and sex teeming in the bathroom.

Sunghoon grabs you by the arm before you can allow yourself to lie on the toilet tiles. You don’t even have the time to marvel at his strength for being able to carry and handle you with ease as he pins you against the tempered glass facing him.

“Hoonie─” You are silenced by his lips on yours, sealing you in a searing kiss with his wet muscle exploring your cavern, tasting himself. You moan into his mouth, your hands on his abdominal muscles to feel them before migrating them to his biceps.

You feel his hands on your waist before moving down to your ass cheeks. “Jump.” He murmurs against your lips, and you comply, jumping as he assists you in wrapping your legs around his waist.

He continues to make out with you, exchanging saliva and moaning wetly into the kiss, biting down on your bruised lips for another time before pulling away from you to trail his kisses down your neck, licking the marks he left on your skin before creating a new one on your shoulder blade.

Your neck is arched, moaning at the pleasure before you feel the head of his cock sliding up and down on your wet folds. You whimper as he slowly thrusts into you, your walls having to accommodate his girth despite being fucked earlier.

“Sunghoon!” You yelp out in pain as soon as he bites down on your shoulder so hard that you swear he’s drawing blood. He ignores you, kissing and licking the fresh bruise on your shoulder while thrusting into you slowly.

The slickness from your cums serves as a lubricant for him, allowing him to fuck into you deliciously.

“Hoonie.” You moan, pulling him by the nape to kiss him while he allows you. “Feel so good.” You slur against his lips, your nails on his back raking up and down, sending shivers down his spine.

“Yeah? I’m fucking you good, princess?” He grins as the wickedness in his dark gaze arouses fear and anticipation in you.

“So, so good.” You blabber out, moaning brokenly at the abrupt, harsh, yet deliberate thrust from him, causing your body to jolt up and your tits to jiggle.

“Want more?” He asks sinisterly, fucking into you at a vigorous pace. “Want me to make you feel good till it fucking hurts, princess?”

“Yes!” Your head hits the tempered glass behind you, your nails raking on his back frantically, and that will undoubtedly leave marks, sobbing at the painful pleasure he is giving you.

The familiar knot twists in your tummy as your orgasm is impending once more. He leans down to suckle your nipple harshly before releasing it to press a kiss on your neck, nipping on the skin and panting harshly against your neck.

“You’re mine, princess,” His dark tone belies a promise. “and I’m going to make sure you’ll remember that by the time I’m done with you.”

Oh, not for a second did you ever doubt him.

The smell of tobacco pervades his room as soon as you step out of the bathroom, to which your nose automatically scrunches up in disgust at the unpleasant smell that you have yet to get accustomed to.

You are dressed in your previous attire, including the fishnet tights. With each movement you make, a series of winces leave your lips with tremendous aches everywhere, but you are able to withstand the pain better than the first time.

Your eyes shift to the figure seated by the window sill, who is only adorning his sweatpants, leaving his upper body in its fine glory that has your mouth salivating and your eyes to feast upon his toned muscles.

Your eyes trail to each of his tattoos ─ the rose tattoo on his hip and the butterfly tattoo on his nape, as his side profile is adjacently facing you while he appears to be gazing out to the window.

He takes a long drag of his burning cigarette stick before blowing the smoke out leisurely. “Do you have genuine feelings for Jake?” He asks without sparing a glance at you.

You notice the way his jaw clenches afterwards, and you know that you have to be careful when choosing your next words. “Does it matter?” You scoff lightly but still remain rooted in your spot. “He has other girls to keep him occupied anyway.”

Sunghoon turns his head to meet your eyes, and he maintains eye contact as he takes another drag of his stick and blows it out. “Come here, princess.” His hand flicks downward, beckoning for you to head over to him despite your aching legs, which are such a hindrance to allowing you to walk properly.

You sit politely on your knees in front of him, allowing yourself to fold your arms on the bench he is sitting on and rest your chin on top of your arms. With your curious eyes watching him as he throws his burnt-out stick outside of the window, you await his next move.

With a lazy grin smearing his cheek, he grabs the cigarette box at the side before taking out a stick. “Wanna try smoking?”

“N-No.” You answer, flustered by his suggestion.

“Awww, it won’t hurt to try one.” He kisses the back of his mouth, his fingers stroking your head like a mockery, and tenderly cradles your cheek, leaving you no choice but to part open your lips as he slowly pushes the stick to your mouth.

With your doe eyes staring into his eyes, his dick twitches slightly beneath his sweatpants. Uneasiness coils in your tummy as he lights up the end of the stick with the lighter. Naturally, you inhale the substance, but the smoke hits the back of your throat unpleasantly, your fingers taking out the stick before you cough out the smoke.

“Ew.” Your face contorts into disgust before you give it to him. “I don’t like it.”

“That’s because you don’t know how to smoke.” Sunghoon scoffs, taking the stick from you. “I’ll teach you one day.”

Before you can protest, knocking on his door startles you, prompting you to look at him questionably, whereas he seems confused as well. “Can you get it for me, princess?” His politeness surprises you, and you heed his words as you rise from the floor.

With shaky legs, you quickly compose yourself before making your way towards the door, inwardly grumbling at how massive his room is just to get to the door, which takes you probably two to three minutes.

With your hand gripping the handle, you slowly push it down and open, revealing the very person you don’t want to see.

“Hey, man, I’m here for my mask─” As soon as Jake looks up from his phone, his eyes meet yours, both reflecting similar sentiments, yet your faces remain impassive.

His eyes do a quick scan of your appearance, marvelling at how gorgeous your new look is, and the fishnet tights adorning your smooth legs go straight to his cock as it twitches. As he returns his gaze to your face, that is when he notices the display of fresh hickeys on your neckline.

His nose flares while he clenches his fist at the side, refraining himself from acting upon violence towards his best friend since, after all, their goals are aligned. But still, that doesn’t make it any less hard on him, especially when he has been yearning for you and needs you in ways that only you can satisfy him.

“What do you want?” Sunghoon asks, his footsteps approaching from behind you, and when you feel his hand on your ass, your breath hitches in your throat, especially when you notice Jake’s dark eyes on Sunghoon’s hand.

“I’m here for my mask, since you said that it has been adjusted.” Jake says coldly.

Sunghoon is not in the slightest bothered by his best friend’s sudden hostility, knowing that the latter won’t be able to stay mad at him any longer. “Right, come on in.” He shoots Jake a grin before looking at you and placing a kiss on your cheek. “Now, princess, treat our guest nicely while I retrieve his mask.”

You ignore Jake’s burning stare on your face as you give Sunghoon a nervous smile. “Okay.”

Sunghoon releases you, allowing you to step aside for Jake to enter. “I’ll be right back.” He informs the both of you before exiting his room.

Awkward silence envelopes you and Jake. You look away from him as you lean your ass against the edge of the table at the side, feigning to be occupied by inspecting your nails.

“Y/N.” Jake breaks the ice after a couple of beats.

“Jake.” You greet him curtly, still refusing to look into the eyes of the guy whose lips were on some girl.

“Having fun fucking around with my best friend?” The sarcasm in his tone ignites a fire within you, while the apparent jealousy goes unnoticed by you.

“What I do is not in any of your business.” You take yourself by surprise with how cold and snarky you sound. Your glaring eyes meet his steely ones.

“It is when Sunghoon is my best friend.” Jake grits his teeth, now stalking towards you like a predator about to pounce on his prey. “Tell me, did he fuck you any better?”

Your nose flares with anger while you ignore the palpable tension that feels thick in the air. The urge to piss him off is so strong that you even find yourself smirking lightly. “As a matter of fact, yes. He fucked me so good, even better than you ever did.”

“Don’t lie to me, lovely.” He warns in a husky voice that makes your heart go fluttering, and the close proximity between the two of you causes you to deflate.

Jake sees the flicker of hurt in your eyes. “Don’t call me that.” Your lips quiver, and the weak tone in your voice betrays the fierce facade you put up.

Your heart nearly lurches in your chest when his fingers stroke your cheek tenderly, and his eyes soften as he gazes into your glossy ones. “But I want to, because you’re my lovely, aren’t you?”

“Am I?” A humourless laugh emits from you, your eyes blurring with each blink while your chest starts to feel constricted. “I mean, you clearly told me that I wasn’t anything special to you.”

“Y/N─”

You cut him off sharply, pouring out your pent-up emotions on him. “I hate you! I hate you for making me special like I’m your only girl when you had another!” You lean away from the table, now glaring heatedly into his eyes through your tears. “I was more mad that you ghosted me after making me feel attached to you! Leaving me to wonder what I did wrong!”

“Y/N, love─”

“What did you say to me the other day? That I was delusional?” You release a derisive laugh, holding back a sob. “You’re right. I was freaking delusional for thinking that I was your girl. The worst part is the fact that I actually liked you!”

By now, you are going hysteric, not knowing how to regulate your emotions that are going haywire at the moment. With clenched fists, you punch his solid chest, which doesn't have any effect on him.

“Come on! Insult me like you did!” You grit your teeth, tears streaming down your cheeks as you continue your assault. “I hate you! You’re even meaner than Hoonie! I hate it even more that I still like you!”

Your chest heaves up and down as you breathe heavily, ceasing your assault on him. Whatever happened has just taken a toll on you. You accept defeat as Jake holds both your fists.

“Do you mean it?” He asks lowly, moving closer to you while holding your hands close to his chest. “That you still like me?”

You sniffle before scoffing out. “Why does it matter to you? You have other girls─”

“But they’re not you.” He cuts you off, with a tinge of softness in his tone. His hand goes to cradle your damp cheek, gazing deeply into your eyes. “I admit that I’m not perfect, and I’m fucked up in ways that you wouldn’t understand, but even after all of that, my heart remains beating for you.”

A whimper leaves your lips as you recall. “But you kissed that girl─”

“Fuck, I know, love, and I shouldn’t have done that when my heart only yearns for you.” His husky voice feels distracting, pulling you out of the sadness. As you blink your eyes, you can see the emotions swimming in the depths of his eyes — a concoction of adoration, lust, and danger.

“Let me prove it to you.” He says softly before wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you closer to him while his hand cradles your jaw, tilting your head up to place a kiss on your awaiting lips.

Never mind the fact that Sunghoon has tasted and kissed you, because what matters is that you’re here, real, in his arms. The sensation of your willowy lips feels familiar, almost like home. He tilts his head to the perfect angle, deepening the kiss that has you melting against him.

Jake kissing you feels wholly different than the last time he kissed you. This kiss feels more intimate with a heavy touch of gentleness, and yet you can sense his urgency by the movement of his lips alone.

No, you should not be caving in, you should not be falling for him again, and yet…..

Upon hearing footsteps, your eyes widen before you force yourself to break the kiss and step away from him. You miss the glinting disappointment in his eyes as you look at Sunghoon, who has entered the room.

“Here.” Sunghoon says to Jake, passing him the familiar-looking mask that has your eyes widening.

Not only is the red mask that you once saw in Jake’s room in his possession, but the silver mask Sunghoon is holding looks exactly the same as one of your predators’. By now, your inner turmoil feels endless while your heart pounds harder against your chest.

You should not have ignored your gut feeling the moment you saw Jake’s red mask. As they converse with each other, you can hear your pulse drumming in your ear while dread crawls onto your skin at the realisation that you have been fucking around with two of your predators from Devil’s Night.

The loudness of your silence draws their attention to you, and they notice the panic and fear storming in your eyes. There is no doubt that the other two are Heeseung and Jay.

“Are you okay?” Jake asks, his hand instinctively reaching for your arm, but when you feel his touch, you flinch and back away, bringing a frown to his lips.

“Of course she’s not. You did kiss her.” Sunghoon chuckles coldly, meeting Jake’s surprised eyes. “Oh yeah, I know what you did when I was gone. As expected from a sly bastard like you.”

Jake scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Fuck off. She kissed me back anyway.”

“I-I have to go.” You stammer, your head feels lightheaded, and you want nothing more than to cower from your two predators.

Just as you walk past Sunghoon, he grabs your arm firmly and arches his eyebrow at you. “I don’t think so, princess. Plus, we haven’t had our fun yet.”

“Let me go.” You attempt to jerk your arm from his tight grip, but it is futile. “I’m not kidding, Sunghoon.”

“Neither am I.” Your heart pumps harder at the callous smile he adorns, while he takes notice of the way your eyes flicker with fear as you look at his mask. He brings it up, surprised to see you flinch. “Why are you afraid of a mere mask, princess?”

“You’re one of them.” Your voice shakes with palpable fear, but you smack your lips shut together quickly as soon as you realise that you were not meant to say them out loud.

Sunghoon scans you briefly before realisation hits him, and his lips unfurl a smirk. “Ah, so the sweet angel finally put the pieces together.”

“What?” Jake asks, approaching the two of you, which only leaves you recoiling from him. “Lovely, what’s wrong? You know that I would never hurt you.”

“Don’t you realise it yet, Jake?” Sunghoon’s annoyed sigh denotes impatience. “She finally knows who we are and who we were on Devil’s Night.”

When you meet Jake’s eyes for a fleeting moment, the trepidation coursing through your veins intensifies at the wickedness glinting in his eyes, which reflects the same as Sunghoon’s. It’s like something has possessed him, making him an entirely different person.

Acting on your instinct as your body goes into fight-or-flight mode, exactly like on Devil’s Night, a fleeting nostalgia hits you as you turn around and latch your hand on the door handle, but Sunghoon’s palm on the door above your head intercepts your escape. You try to push down the handle and pull the door, but his strength outweighs yours.

“Trying to escape from us again, angel? Have you forgotten what happened on that same night?” Sunghoon’s tone drips with a mockery menace, and your fear for your two predators becomes tenfold as you recall. Your body is now trembling while tears prick in your eyes.

“Come on, sweet angel. Don’t be afraid of us.” Jake’s attractive lull can be heard from behind, and it does nothing to ease the foreboding tension.

Sunghoon grabs your arm tight, forcing you to turn around, and when you do, a bloodthirsty, carnal desire lurks in the depths of his hauntingly beautiful eyes. “Angel should be afraid. You’ve seen what we are capable of.”

“Let me go, please.” You remain persistent, imploring them with your glistening eyes, and yet, amidst the trepidation, there is a whirlpool of lustful desire and excitement within you.

“Don’t you get it, princess? You’re mine, now,” Sunghoon’s fingers grip your chin tight to force you to look at Jake’s predatory gaze as he leans down to the side of your face to kiss your cheek sensually. “and you’re his. There has been no escape from us since the moment you showed up on Devil’s Night.”

As soon as Sunghoon trails his kisses down to your neck, stopping at where your erratic pulse is, you fear he might sink his teeth into your skin just like he always does. You see the way Jake’s eyes darken with jealousy and carnal lust upon seeing Sunghoon assault your neck with his lips.

“Unless you want to get on our bad side, then I suggest you take what we give you.” Sunghoon snarls against your throat, evoking more fear and a familiar arousal in your core.

“Move.” Jake’s demand prompts Sunghoon to move aside, and when your sheeny eyes meet Jake’s, he wastes no time having you in possession, his arms around your bare waist and his fingers tug at the string of your fishnet, smirking down at you. “You wore this for me, didn’t you, angel?”

You don’t respond, remaining numb as your voice decides to disappear. Jake cradles your cheek, forcing you to tilt your head up as he leans in, his nose brushing against yours while his hot breath fans above your lips. “Jump and wrap your legs around my waist.”

Although his soft tone should be a balm to your ongoing consternation, there is a hint of darkness, and you know you should heed his command, and you do. With your arms hooked around his neck, you marvel at how he is carrying you with one hand supporting your derrière effortlessly while the other is occupied with his red mask.

Jake migrates over to Sunghoon’s bed and settles down, with you remaining on top of him. With your faltering gaze, his lips curve into a smirk, one hand holding your lower back while the other reaches up to caress your cheek. “You’re going to feel good, angel.”

Your lips are quivering while your mind is in a state of chaos, wanting and not wanting to be stuffed full since the prior fucking with Sunghoon has rendered you exhausted.

“But I’m sore.” You whisper weakly, and you hear Jake kissing the back of his mouth as he continues to stroke your cheek.

“You can take it.” Jake croons to you, bringing more tears to collect on the rims of your eyes. He leans in to kiss you sweetly, distracting you as he adjusts to lower his pants, letting his raging hard-on be free from the confines. “You’re our good girl, yeah?” He rasps against your lips before withdrawing from you to lay you down on the mattress.

Your heart races in anticipation as he lowers himself, hiking your skirt up. A startled gasp leaves your mouth, completely thrown off guard, when he tears the fishnet tights at your lower region. “Jaeyun!” You whine, and you know that you’re going to get an earful from Winter.

“It was in the way, lovely.” His growl goes straight to your pulsating cunt. Your body jolts as soon as you feel the head of his cock tapping heavily on your already sensitive clit, causing your breath to hitch.

A whimper catches in the back of your throat as soon as he breaches your entry, and your walls instantly envelope his cock. He grits his teeth, relishing in the way your walls are hugging him as though they had missed him. “I fucking miss this pussy.” He grunts out before slowly thrusting in and out, sending your head spinning by how instantly good he is making you feel.

“Jaeyun.” You moan out, bringing a fist to cover your mouth, but Jake pulls it away from you before his hand goes underneath your body to raise you, changing position so you can feel him deeper as you perch on top of him.

Your pretty moans go straight to Jake and Sunghoon’s cock while the latter remains watching you pick up the pace to fuck yourself onto Jake like a desperate, hungry little slut as he takes a drag of his smoke. He hates to admit it, as jealousy is brimming in him, but fucking hell, this looks better than any pornography he watched.

“Jaeyun, I’m gonna cum.” You announce to him, your back is arched with your head thrown to the back, bouncing and fucking yourself onto him as your hands grip his shoulders tight.

Jake occasionally bucks his hips up to assist you, but it looks like he doesn’t need to do all of the job, smirking as he gazes at you at the pure bliss etched on your pretty features. Flickering his eyes at your parted lips, he pulls you by the nape to kiss you.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much.” He says in between kisses while something warm fills your chest.

“I've missed you too, Jaeyun.” You whimper, your thighs are quivering, and the knot in your tummy becomes unbearable. “Please let me cum.”

“Go ahead, angel. Cum all over me.” You mewl into the kiss, melting at how sweet and gentle he is with you before you finally come undone at the same time he does, as evident by the hot moan he emits into your parted lips.

Jake doesn’t stop kissing you, getting addicted to your willowy lips and your taste while his arms slither around your waist to pull you impossibly closer.

From behind, you feel a menacing presence, and before you know it, fingers tangle in your hair before forcing you to break the lip lock with Jake.

“Have you forgotten about me, princess?” Sunghoon sneers down at you as you are forced to look up at him, your scalp burning from how tight he is gripping your hair.

“N-No.” You try your utmost to answer sincerely, and it is true. All the while, fucking Jake, the thought of Sunghoon watching you was incredibly hot.

“Good to know. Now, open your mouth.” He commands lowly, and when you slowly part your lips open, he leans down to spit into your hot cavern, eliciting a moan from you before he swallows your moan, kissing you hard.

Jake’s cock twitches inside of you as he watches Sunghoon’s hand gripping your neck from behind while he kisses you. Biting down his bottom lip, he makes a tentative thrust into you, and he hears another moan that sounds muffled in the back of your throat.

As soon as Sunghoon breaks the lip lock, you whimper in disappointment while Jake continues to fuck into you with his hands on your waist, but the words leaving Sunghoon’s mouth cause your walls to clench around Jake.

“Fuck her in a reverse cowgirl. Want her to fuck my dick with her mouth.”

Jake ceases his movement and places a gentle kiss on your swollen lips before lifting you up, assisting you in the change of position. You slowly sink yourself onto Jake's cock with a breathy moan, feeling his girth stuffing you to the fullest.

Excitement gleams in your eyes while your mouth salivates at the sight of Sunghoon’s erect cock in front of you. Like the good girl you are, you begin your administration by grabbing his warm cock before licking the tip, which elicits a low cuss from Sunghoon. Getting impatient, he shoves his whole girth into your mouth, forcing your jaw to go slacken before he decides to use your mouth as he pleases.

Tears are streaming down your face at the euphoric pain and pleasure from your two predators that you were supposed to flee. Sunghoon’s derogatory, harsh tone and Jake’s sweet, gentle tone as they dirty talk to you while fucking into your holes send you into a state of pure bliss.

“I’m gonna cum.” Sunghoon announces, snarling down at you as he grips your hair. “You better swallow every drop.”

“I’m cumming too, angel.” Jake says breathless next to your ear, tilting his head to kiss away your tears.

A collective guttural moan emits from the two hot men before filling your holes with their cum. Sunghoon withdraws from you, allowing you to regulate your breathing before moaning weakly as you come undone all over Jake for the second time.

“That’s a good girl.” Jake whispers in a lull as your body convulses uncontrollably, his arms hugging your waist and his fingers stroking the skin in an attempt to soothe you from the aftermath.

Jake slowly lifts you up from him, settling you on the bed, and you don’t hesitate to allow your body to fall on the bouncy mattress, the exertion from all the events today dawning on your body as you pant heavily.

You feel the bed dipping before a hand stroke and cradle your head, prompting you to raise your head lazily and stare into Sunghoon’s eyes. “Stay for the night, princess.”

You can only afford to hum your answer. You allow Sunghoon to manhandle you once more as your body raises vertically, now clad back in his sweatpants. Leaning his back against the headboard, he brings you to him, settling you on top of him.

“You did so well, princess.” Sunghoon whispers amorously, leaning towards your face. “You’re going to be so fucking good for us.”

You flutter your eyes closed as soon as his warm lips envelope yours, kissing you sweetly this time. The taste of his cigarette smell is evident on your lips, but you deepen the kiss instead of backing away in disgust. You feel a presence behind you, and your brunette waves are pushed aside for Jake to kiss your neck.

“Our sweet angel.” Jake purrs against your skin while you remain in a lip lock with Sunghoon. “Just for us.”

You mewl into the kiss in response, and your heart goes fluttering as they continue to kiss you. You feel fingers gripping your chin and forcing you away from Sunghoon before Jake devours your lips with your head turned sideways. Sunghoon grasps the chance to kiss your tainted neck, biting and licking your skin.

As your two predators continue to make out with you and gradually turn messy, you know that you’ll be wanting back for more, even if it means repressing the light in you in a cage while the darkness in you feels so sinister, luring you further into getting lost in this intoxicating abysmal.

When the next day arrived, you woke up to your phone vibrating with an incoming call from Wonyoung, but you ignored her and the spam messages from your other friends. What matters to you is that you’re still in Jake and Sunghoon’s possession.

“Hoonie!” You whine as soon as Sunghoon smears the whip cream on your lips. Presently, you are in the sumptuous kitchen with him and Jake, just them idling around and sticking to you as though you are a magnet, impossible for them to stray from you any longer, whereas you want to indulge your craving for strawberries with whip cream. Jake’s white tee you adorned looks big on you with the length reaching your knees.

“Jaeyun, look at him.” You complain to Jake, who has been grinning ear-to-ear at how adorable you look with the whip cream now smeared on your faces.

“I’m looking.” Jake teases you, nodding his head with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Aww, don’t sulk, princess.” Sunghoon coos, his lips curving into a smirk as he closes the gap between the two of you. “I’ll wipe them off for you.”

You know that he is up to no good with that devilish smirk on his handsome face, but you don’t complain much anyway as he grabs your chin and presses his lips on yours, his tongue licking the whip cream on your lips before poking into your mouth.

Just as you two are about to get engrossed in the kissing, the sound of footsteps entering the kitchen prompts you to pull away from Sunghoon’s chasing lips. You turn around to reach for the tissue to wipe away the excessive whip cream on your face before you tense at his voice.

“What the fuck did you guys do to my kitchen?” The annoyance laces in Jay’s husky voice cause the familiar dread to crawl onto your skin.

“Don’t be dramatic. We didn’t even make any mess.” Jake scoffs, leaning away from the countertop. “And for your information, it’s not your kitchen.”

“Yeah, but who did most of the cooking?” Jay shoots him a scowl before his eyes trail to you, who is facing Sunghoon as he assists in wiping the cream off your face while you stare at him with a sulky pout, but the playfulness dances delightfully in your sparkly eyes.

“The cooker that we hired, duh.” Jake retorts, oblivious to the way Jay is staring at you. Jay clenches a fist as soon as he spots visible hickeys on your pretty neckline.

“I want to wash my face.” You tell Sunghoon, your hand finds its way to grab his hand, but as soon as you make your first step, you tenses up at Jay’s voice.

“So you’re a regular here now, baby?” Jay smirks, wanting to evoke some reaction from you while the memory of your body on his remains fresh, and he yearns to touch you like he did on Devil’s Night.

But to his surprise and disappointment, you cast him a blank stare, as though he is a mere stranger to you. The emotions in your eyes are inexplicable before you look away from him and proceed to tug Sunghoon with you as you two depart from the kitchen. Sunghoon manages to shoot Jay a smug smile fleetingly.

“Looks like you need to try harder, man.” Jake chuckles, patting Jay’s tensed shoulder before leaving the kitchen.

A muscle pulses in Jay’s jaw, and the anger he has been keeping at bay surfaces. No fucking way. Did you just ignore him? After you had danced intimately with him on Devil’s Night and taunted him with your alluring, blissful sway?

Storms rage in his dark eyes while his jaw remains locked. There is no fucking way you’re going to continue disregarding his domineering existence, and he’ll simply have to prove your resistance to ignoring him wrong.

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