#or your boss who asked you to call him daddy

[itsanidiom]

Excellent work, my BL HR comrade. Excellent work.

Papang Phromphiriya as Daddy Dan and Mark Pakin as Nick ONLY FRIENDS EPISODE 9 PREVIEW

[chobunz]

── smarty. ( pjs ) 🪷

๑ Jay has had enough of your brattiness for today, there’s only so much he can take.. so he may as well teach you a little lesson, right?

pair: bf!jay ㅊ gf!reader | warnings: smut, angst (??), small age gap (jay is 5 years older), d/s dynamics, bratty!reader, slight ddlg themes, spanking, p.ssy slapping, oral (f. rec), edging, crying, daddy kink, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, reader is implied to be a curvy/thick girly but anyone can read tbh ! | words: 1.7k

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“what’d i tell you about saying things like that?”

“i don’t care, it’s true !” you snarled, if it hadn’t been made clear how aggravated you were, it sure as hell was now.

you and jay spent the weekend with his parents at a resort somewhere in jeju. everything was going fine at first, that was until an unexpected guest invited themselves to join your little ‘family trip’. her name was hanna ? halie ? you don’t know and you didn’t care. what fogged your mind for the rest of the trip was how she clung up onto jay like the smoke to dry ice.

what agitated you even more about her was her need to call you out asking you a million questions about your clothing and how she’s so shocked that jay settled down with someone like you. all of her backhanded compliments would rub you the wrong way and she just gave you weird vibes. it’s as if you weren’t “pretty enough” to date him; according to her at least. don’t get it twisted, jay definitely shut all of that down. he wouldn’t let any woman pin you as anything less than you were. a fucking goddess.

“why’re you acting like this? what’d i even do?” he paused. “what haneul does has nothing to do with me.” he continued, eyes focused on the road. he’s become fed up with your constant nagging. maybe it’s just his level of maturity that makes him unable to see it, but he doesn’t understand why you worry so much, it was as if every ‘i love you the most’ ‘you’re my favorite’ ‘it’s only you’s’ didn’t matter. he felt like his words held no weight whatsoever.

“nothing to do with you ? hah, you’re the one who let her bombard our vacation. might i add family vacation.” you sterned, shifting your body closer to the door of the vehicle, looking out the window.

“what did you expect me to do y/n? she’s been a family friend for years now, i can’t just tell her to fuck off and go somewhere else. she’d go crying to my mom about how mean i was to her and that’s just extra drama that i don’t need right now..” he exhaled heavily, glancing at your avoidant figure. when he got no reply from you he left it be, turning up the music to avoid the awkward atmosphere the both of you created.

๑ ๑ ๑

“babe, can you pass me my frames ?” jay dared to ask even though you’d been ignoring him since the incident from earlier.

“y/n.” “please ?” watching as you hadn’t budged even a bit he grew upset. it was already bad enough for him that you were acting like he didn’t even exist, which was fine. though, he wouldn’t just take your constant disrespect.

so he got rid of what seemed to be your main source of attention. your phone.

“what the fuck, jay !” you reached at him. “give me my phone !”

“jay !” he mocked, his voice altering to sound high pitched like yours. “don’t you see that i’m trying put things back together? why do you have to act like such a child.” he was disappointed in you. you were a fully legal adult, yet your actions said differently.

“strip.” jay broke the silence you let fill the room. you were hesitant, and confused, but at least you were actually looking at him now. “you heard me, now.” his brow raised as his mouth slipped a scoff.

were you just gonna let him boss you around ? definitely not. were you feeling intimidated ? yes. but your pride stood stronger than the trouble you’d get into. you breathe heavily finding your way to the door of your bedroom for your dramatic escape; until you felt a tug at your arm and then the softness of your mattress, cosigned with the weight of your built boyfriend.

“i guess i have to do everything myself today, huh ?” jay sounded calm but you knew otherwise, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t let this play out just to see this side of him. ‘cause you did. hell, you felt your wetness dripping past the wall of your ass, the sticky sensation sending your body chills.

the jingle of his belt caught your attention, but before you could even glance at him, your face was meshed with the comforter of your shared bed. you shriek.

“jay— !”

“oh now you wanna talk ? huh, funny.” his hand sent goosebumps throughout your body as he runs his palm over your clothed ass. “it’s a shame you don’t listen. now your pretty tails gonna be all red.” he pinched the fabric of your skirt flicking it upwards onto your lower back.

“ ‘m sorry..” you uttered feeling him tug at your underwear.

now, jay was ignoring you. all you felt was him adjusting your waist, so that your ass sat in the air.

“‘m really sorry..ja—” you pause, shrieking at the leather that came in contact with your silky skin. if you could describe the feel of it, it’s like a slow burn, a slow burning that spread like wildfire everytime he unleashed the branded weapon on you.

discipline is a topic your parents took lightly. yeah, they disciplined you, but it was never a ‘bend over my knee’ type of discipline. more like, every morning you wake up ‘sit in that corner’ type of discipline. jay never went soft on you when it came down to it. he wanted to make sure you never do whatever you’re in trouble for again.

“crying ? what’re you crying for,” jay never pushed aside your emotions, he had to hear you out or his guilt would eat him alive. hearing you sniffle shot a sort of worry in him.

“listen, you put yourself in this situation—” he paused throwing his belt. “you already know what happens when you wanna act like a brat.” he palmed your cunt. he wasn’t going to baby you this time, that’s all he ever did. maybe this was partially his fault too..

subconsciously, you felt yourself grinding on his hand. you were needy, you always were after a punishment, even if he didn’t know. but now, you were on display. there was no way he wouldn’t find out.

“you’re such a fucking slut,” his thumb caressing your entrance, pushing your sweetness through your dewy folds. “already so wet for daddy, hm?” his thumb slid through your sticky walls in a in and out motion. your slick caking his finger everytime he pulled it from inside you.

“please..” was a constant that came from your mouth. you didn’t know what you were pleading for. more ? less ? what was it ? you only knew that he made you feel so good. the look of him drenched you. you wanted him to slut you out. ruin you.

“please ? please what?” he couldn’t help but snort at you. the mere thought that you can get what you want with just a please— scratch that. the thought that you think you can get whatever you want after testing his patience, made him laugh. “please.. forgive me ?”

“i dunno..m” you slurred, you were estatic. just his thumb, making you feel so dumb. it made you feel small, like you were nothing but a tiny spectacle of dust.

“you dunno..? wan’ me to help you find out ?” you were flipped onto your back before you knew it. once you saw the shift in his eyes change, you knew what he was prone to do. the thought itself making you spread your legs wide open.

you even made the mistake of trying to rub yourself. that quickly got disposed.

“you lost your damn mind ?” his hand reached down to slap your weeping pussy.

“baby, i can’t wait.. please!” you whined watching as he kneeled down, face between your begging thighs, hands cupping each pretty chunk of flesh.

“but you can.” “matter of fact, you will.” he blew onto your core. the cold sensation bringing your hips to a jolt. his eyes scanned your smaller figure watching every expression that played out on your face, then down to your breasts. “lift up your shirt, let me see your beautiful body, baby.”

earning yourself a “good little girl.” when you comply.

๑ ๑ ๑

you hadn’t gotten a break since he started his mouth on you. drinking in your first orgasm, then the second. seems like you were now on your third.

“fuck.. jay.” you groaned your hips aching to move in his grasp. you’d try not to breakdown whenever his nose came in touch with your throbbing clit.

“you done ? talk to me baby.” he growled against your heat. his warm breath made you thirsty. he was eating you like it was his last supper. ripping you to absolute shreds.

“i’m gonna come, daddy..” your legs were shaking, your voice was whiney, and you needed an exhale. once he started sucking on your clit your back arched. at him, the feel, and the thought of him, making you feel.

“yeah, you gonna come for me ?”

“yeah.. wan’ come for you..” you spoke through labored breaths. once your moaning got louder, he stopped. he’d love to make you come, third times a charm. but he wasn’t going to. he basically lured you in just to trick you.

“jayy !” “it was right there, i was about to cum !” you childishly whined at the begging sensation between your legs. the quivering feeling making you force your legs closed to suppress the throbbing feel. you felt his hungry stare on you. you knew he wanted you. it’s when you realized this wasn’t an after punishment treat. he was edging you. right after overstimulating you. how cruel..

“aww, look at you ! my pretty girl..” he pouted at you, your sad, twitching state. you were groaning for more as he watched you. pitying you. how could you have thought it was over? after a mere spanking ? silly.

“i guess you really thought huh.” he cackled. “ooh ! should we order room service.. i’m kinda hungry. you ?” he got up to go and search for the phone.

maybe you did deserve this. shouldn’t be acting so damn bratty all the time, even if it’s in your nature to piss him off. now look at you. eyes all watery, and a mess between your legs.

oh well, not his problem.

[simpxxstan]

favourite

pairing: boss!wonwoo x model!mingyu x f.reader

genre: smut, slowburn, poly!relationship

summary: after being happily single for years, when you develop a crush, you don't know what to do. you think your closest friend (with benefits) can take your mind off things. but when you ask for his help, you certainly didn't imagine this kind of help from him.

word count: 15k words

rating: NSFW 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT PLEASE!!!

warnings: mentions of workplace sexism, minor sugar daddy x sugar baby dynamics, fwb dynamics, wonwoo and mingyu are both depicted as bisexual in this story and this does not imply anything from real life, asymmetric power dynamics (boss and employee), open relationship (not really but-), slight possessiveness, minor age gap (wonwoo is four years older than reader and mingyu).

smut warnings: sub!mingyu, dom!wonwoo, switch!reader, threesome, sir kink, usage of petnames (baby, pretty baby, darling, love, baby boy, doll), praise kink, degradation kink, minor (?) objectification, heavy descriptive mlm action, anal sex, usage of butt plug and cock ring, use of lube, orgasm denial, unprotected sex (pls do not do this irl), oral sex (m. receiving, f. receiving), nipple play (with both male and female), usage of traffic light system during sex, spanking, usage of degrading petnames (cockslut, whore, plaything), spitroasting, squirting, multiple sex scenes, PLEASE LMK IF I MISS OUT ON SOMETHING.

a/n: does anyone know how to get out of corporate!wonwoo brainrot? if yes, pls pls pls lmk i need it ^^ comments, reblogs, and feedback are so so much appreciated!! would love to hear your thoughts on this dynamic so beloved to me- i have some headcanons in mind too, could share if anyone wants!

(i)

You slowly sip the whisky on your glass, on the rocks, the liquid burning through your chest. You embrace the burn, as your mind wanders away from the beautiful night skyline in front of you. It’s been a couple of hours since you’ve returned home, the night edging towards midnight, but you can’t get it out of your mind. 

You can’t get him out of your mind. 

His voice, his scent, even hearing his footsteps give you sheer goosebumps. 

God, you thought you were better than this. After spending so many years in the ruthless corporate world, you pride yourself on becoming a woman made of steel. Nothing affected you anymore. Disobedient juniors? Your reputation of being the most unforgiving boss in the entire building has permeated to everyone in the industry. Sexism? There’s a rumour that you once stabbed your stiletto into the hand of a man trying to grab your ass, and since then, no one’s dared to look down at you for being a woman. Disrespectful bosses? They knew better than to get their top employee against them, especially when you had a record of toppling over bosses and taking their position sheerly through merit. 

It hadn’t been easy. Fighting into the corporate world as a woman with no contacts and no fancy universities on your CV had been tough, but it had made you strong enough to not let anything faze you anymore. It certainly helped that you were not interested in anything except your career, so you had every reason to keep fighting on without giving up. It also helped that you were married to your work- the way you regularly return home late, even in your tenth year at the company, was testimony to that fact. 

And yet, he had managed to faze you. Your face grows red with shame just thinking about how your heart and body reacted when you see him, and you take another hurried gulp from your glass, eager to divert your mind away. 

The door unlocks itself. 

“You came.” You turn around in your swivel chair to see a tall man, wearing a long black trench coat enter your house, his cap and sunglasses not giving away any of his face. But you know damn well who it is. 

“You called. You never call first unless it’s urgent.”

Mingyu steps out of the shadows, taking away his coat, cap and sunglasses, and you see that he’s wearing a fancy blue button down with jeans. 

“Did you have a schedule before this?”

“Yes. Y/N, please tell me you have something to eat, I’m famished. I’ve been eating nothing but chicken breast for the last week because of this shoot today, but now I’m ready to break my diet. Do you have ramen?”

He makes himself at home in your open kitchen, as you watch on from your prime spot next to long glass windows which make up the wall of your living room. There are dim lights on, but Mingyu looks perfect even like this. “Of course I have ramen. Can you make some for me too?” 

“Sure, I’ll add eggs too. I’m really hungry.” You smile at the way Mingyu quickly found his way through your house. This isn’t the first time he’s cooking in your kitchen, and you hope it won’t be the last time certainly. 

You finish your glass and walk up to him, just as he’s pouring out the ramen into two bowls. “Thank you for the food, Mingyu.” You sit on the kitchen counter and he pulls up the stool next to you, your bare legs hanging next to him. He pecks your cheek, before handing you chopsticks and the two of you instantly begin inhaling the ramen which is made just perfectly. You’re silent while eating, and Mingyu finishes first. Once you’re done, he cleans up the dishes too. 

“Mingyu, you’re my guest, stop doing all the work.” You swing your legs over the counter, and pull his hand until he’s locked in between your two legs. His hands land over your shoulders, and you lean in to kiss him, but he pulls away-

“Wash your mouth, baby. And wait for me in the bedroom.” You make a face, not looking forward to waiting because you want him now. He seems to read your mind, so he continues, “I won’t even take 2 minutes.”

So you do wash your mouth, brush your teeth too and dab some serum on your face.

“What happened that you had to call?” Mingyu comes and stands behind you in the ensuite bathroom, his face in your neck as he inhales your scent. 

“I can’t call my friend from time to time?”

His giggles are warm against your bare skin. “Y/N, as much as I love you, you know it wasn’t just a call. Although I don’t mind,” he carefully begins to untie the straps at your shoulders, “you know I am always at your service,” then he lets the dress drop to your feet, and places his hands on your hips, his gaze scanning you through the mirror. You’re not wearing anything underneath, and it’s a treat for his eyes. 

You turn around before he can touch you where he really wants to. 

“I know we stopped after you…”

“God, don’t make it sound so sad. You know my boyfriend is okay with this.”

“Yes I know, but I thought it was a matter of principles?” 

Mingyu’s canines are out as he giggles. “Darling, you do know what an open relationship means?”

You sigh. “I don’t know how you do it. Do you not get jealous? Does he not get jealous? Of me?”

Mingyu doesn’t say anything, bending down to kiss on the sensitive spots of your neck. “He does, sometimes. And then, he fucks me hard enough to remind me who I come home to, after all.” You shudder against his touch. “So, please Y/N. Don’t hesitate.” 

He stops kissing you as you take his face in your hands, feeling the smooth skin under your nails. The hunger in his eyes, softened by his affection for you, are all the confirmation you need.

_

Mingyu is, for all his height and glory, no dom. He’s a service top at best. But you like it better if he’s pinned underneath you, squirming against the way your nails tease his nipples, his cockring tight, as you ride him, gifting yourself with endless orgasms. His hands are tied up above his head, leaving his arms left bare for you to savour. So you do so, biting, licking and sucking his arms which seem to have grown since the last time you did this, although admittedly, that was over six months ago. You know Mingyu is especially sensitive at his nipples, so at least one of your hands never leave his chest, holding on to the rock-hard muscle for both support and also to keep him down. Even with his hands tied, he’s strong enough to flip you over, but you know it’s not really necessary. With the way he’s drooling all over your pillows and begging you with his soft, puppy eyes, to let him cum once, you don’t think he’s aware of just how strong he is. 

“Baby’s doing so well, hmm?” You whisper into his ear, leaning down to hear his moans and whimpers clearer. “Can you give me one more orgasm? Do you want to?” He nods feverishly, but you gently tap his lips. “I want words, pretty baby. Colour?” But he still doesn’t reply. So you sit up, and lift your body away from where you’re seated on his cock, wondering if you’re doing something wrong. But he instantly thrashes his feet and words come flowing out. “No! I’m sorry- all green, I swear.” “I’m sorry if I pushed you too hard-” “No! Y/N, please. Just zoned out for a second. Please. Green.” So you gently push his cock back inside, still red, weeping and imaginably hard. 

“Can you give me one more? Mingyu? You’re doing so well.”

“Yes! Yes I can!” He moves his head forward, and you kiss him. Softly, unlike how you’re bouncing on him. The kiss is sloppy, leaving strings of spit between your mouths, but that’s how Mingyu likes it, you know. You also know he likes your tits, so you sit up, and let his mouth fall to your breasts. And he devours them, like a hungry man. Sloppily licking, kissing and sucking at your nipples, until they’re swollen. 

And when you cum again, your warmth floods Mingyu’s still-erect cock, his head lolls, eyes rolling back, as you feel spent and tired. “Baby, you did so well. So good for me. You were made for me, I think. Made to give me heavenly orgasms,” you see the way his gaze becomes unfocused at all the praise. He eagerly kisses you, moaning when you suck his lip too hard, all while you untie the knot of his hands. When his hands are finally free, he gently flips you over into the bed. 

“Let me clean you up-” you offer. But he shakes his head, pushing you down on the bed now, as he bends down towards your stomach. In spite of the five orgasms of the night, a spike of arousal shoots through you, as you realise what’s going to happen. 

“I want my dessert, Y/N. Let me worship you for being so patient with your good boy all night. Please? Haven’t I been a good boy? ”

And he has been a good boy. Such a good boy, the way his skillful tongue laps all over your ruined, messy folds, licking the remnants of your cum still in you, and making out with your pussy. He drives you on the verge of overstimulation, so you yank his hair up and remove his face from your cunt. 

“Let me take off your cock ring. You’ve been such a good boy. Cum with me as you eat me out?” It’s too good of a reward for him to not smile widely, his canines out and his eyes bright. He doesn’t care that he has to rut against the bed to chase his high. He does it fast, just how fast his tongue moves in your cunt, and he holds back to time it such that you both reach your climax at the same time, and you’re moaning out loud. 

“Wonwoo!” 

You don’t realise that Mingyu hears that too, as you pass out for a long second after squirting all over Mingyu’s face.

_

That night doesn’t end there. There are quick breaks from time to time, but it goes on until you’re positively sure the first rays of the sun are coming up in the sky, and you both are tired as fuck. Spent, wasted and high on all the hormones, you snuggle into Mingyu’s warm body, as he cages you into him with one arm on your side. His cock is finally flaccid after going all night long, and your body is too sore to move. It’s just a miracle that Mingyu smells good even after all night. 

“Who was that whose name you called out earlier?” 

Fuck. You’d forgotten about that.

At least Mingyu doesn’t sound mad. He just sounds mildly amused, and a little curious. You purse your lips and turn up to face him. Well, it would come out sometime or the other. And better if you admit your secret first to Mingyu than anyone else. At least you don’t feel that embarrassed in front of him, because of how you’ve both been friends. 

“My new boss.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah. Was appointed a month ago. He used to manage the overseas operations first, but apparently he’s been wanting to come back and settle down for a permanent position here for a long time. Six months earlier, he shifted back with a temporary position to headquarters, and our CEO was so impressed with him, he got promoted to our branch as the Director.”

“And you like him?” Mingyu’s voice has a lilt to it, as if he finds it a bit funny. 

He might as well. You yourself find it funny. “I- I don’t know. I think I’m a little infatuated with him? Fuck, Mingyu, this is so embarrassing but-”

“It’s not embarrassing. Even if you’re all steel outside, I know you’ve got a soft core. And who will you admit crushes to if not to a friend?”

You gently slap his chest, and he laughs. “You’re mocking me.”

“Am not. It is a crush, or is it more?”

“God, no! He doesn’t even know I like him. I mean I hope he doesn’t. It would be so embarrassing. God, I’m going to lose the entire image I’ve made in front of my peers and subordinates!”

“Why? Does he make you act irrationally?”

“Oh so irrationally. He makes me distracted during meetings. He makes my mind wander during work. I’ve lost focus, and I’ve lost my concentration. One time he put his hand on my thighs, and I swear I got wet. I don’t even get that wet during foreplay usually!” 

Mingyu bursts out laughing. “Y/N, I think this is a pretty bad case. I’ve never seen you have this kind of an infatuation in all the eight years that we have been friends.”

You nod. You know that well enough. 

“But the question is, why don’t you make a move on him? Why only hide? Is he married?”

“Nah. It’s worse. He’s not into women.”

Mingyu shifts a bit, turning his head towards you. “Are you sure?”

“He has a boyfriend. And as far as his record goes, he’s never dated a woman. Always rejected advances from females.”

Mingyu hums, before wrapping an arm around your waist. “But a girl can dream, hmm?”

“Don’t mock me, Mingyu! I called you here to get my mind off him but…”

“But you still called out his name when you came.” There’s a smirk on his lips. “What’s his name, you said?”

“Wonwoo. Jeon Wonwoo.”

In the darkness of the night, you don’t notice Mingyu’s smirk widening, because you’re too busy yawning. And as soon as you close your eyes, basking in Mingyu’s warmth, you’re out like a light.

_

(ii) 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Miss Y/L/N, I’ve spoken to my secretary to rearrange your schedule to accommodate the trip to Tokyo. Have you checked it?” Wonwoo asks you in the weekly meeting, and you have no option but to recollect your calm as you reply, because everybody’s watching. “I have, Sir. But I have to tell you, I hardly have any experience in dealing with international investments-” 

“Then this is the perfect opportunity for you to get that experience.” His eyes are cold and fixed on yours, glaring at you from across the table. His gelled hair lifted off his forehead reveals slightly furrowed eyebrows. 

You bite your lip. Any other time and you would jump on the opportunity. But this time, you have to hesitate because you’re afraid you’ll jump your boss on the trip and that would be enough to end your career then and there. But you have a point to prove, especially to the seven other men sitting on the same table. Even in the bright sunlight of the morning in the boardroom, their eyes glint like wolves, waiting for you to make the slightest mistake. They’re waiting for Wonwoo to disapprove of you, so that they can remove the single infiltrator in their male-dominated corporate world. 

“Then I won’t disappoint you, Sir.” Wonwoo nods curtly. “Miss Y/L/N, please meet me in my office after the lunch break.” You nod and take his leave as the meeting comes to an end. 

Fuck. Less than two days left for the trip, and somehow your confidence has weakened already. You take a seat in your office, staring at your open computer screen, wondering what has come over you. It’s shocking just how much your mind has started behaving and reacting to everything Wonwoo does or says. He’s just four years older than you, but there’s something in his aura which has you second-guessing your every move. Perhaps it's the way he dresses in nothing but the darkest shades of black every day. Perhaps it’s his horn-rimmed glasses, which do nothing to soften his piercing gaze. Perhaps it’s the way there are rumours floating about, but nothing seems to disturb him. In the three weeks you’ve met him, you’ve never seen him lose control even for a second. Not one loud voice, not one expression of unease, not one flicker of anger. In all of your life, you’ve never met a man with such force of character. Character that does not divert, that does not decrease. It intrigues you and excites you in equal parts. 

You don’t bother to knock because Wonwoo’s blinds are up and his eyes have been on you since you left your own cabin to walk to his office. 

“Sir?”

“Have a seat, please.”

So you do, but he stands up. He comes around the desk to sit on the desk next to you, and his scent engulfs you. Your body has an almost Pavlovian reaction to it- every time you smell his cologne mixed with his naturally masculine scent, you feel intoxicated. The hairs on the end of your skin have risen, as his eyes never leave yours. 

“There’s a document on this tablet. I will send it to your email as well. Take a good look at it, I doubt you’ll face any difficulties at the conference in Tokyo.”

“I will check it.”

Wonwoo nods. He’s a man of few words. You secretly think he does it on purpose, to remain more mysterious, to leave you craving for his voice. 

“How many days will we be away?”

“One. We’ll be back the next day in the evening. The conference is going to take up your whole day, but you’ll have some time to yourself, if you want.”

“I’ve been to Tokyo before, so I don’t particularly want to sightsee. I’ll treat it as a paid vacation,” you smile, before standing up. “Is there anything else you want to talk about, Sir?”

He doesn’t smile. “Sit,” there’s a pause, and your breath hitches, “please. I also want to talk about your new project. There’s been plenty of talk about the deal with the Spanish, but I want to ensure that it’s a safe source.”

His obsidian eyes burn into you as you sit down again. You couldn’t really deny him when he asked so nicely, could you?

_

If you thought spending all those days in a glass cabin ten metres away from Wonwoo’s office was torture, the trip is absolute hell, with no chance for redemption. This is the first time you’re on the company jet, thanks to Wonwoo. There’s no one else on this trip, except Wonwoo’s secretary, Jeong Yunho, a scarily efficient man who’s been with Wonwoo since before his transfer to your branch. Wonwoo and Yunho seem busy discussing something about the conference, so you stick to your laptop, avoiding eye contact with the man in question. But soon, Yunho leaves the compartment (room? segment?) where you two are sitting (you realise there must be seats beyond the curtain too). 

And then it’s just Wonwoo and you. You keep your eyes on your laptop, although he’s sitting diagonally opposite to you, but oh, the only thing on your mind is him. The way his jaw tightens as he reads something on his tablet. The way his blue trousers fit him like second skin, stretching the right way near his thighs. The way his form-fitted blazer must be custom-tailored because there’s no way a commercially sold blazer would match the proportions of those shoulders and that slim waist. 

Oh, how you envy his boyfriend.

“See something interesting, Miss Y/L/N?” 

Your mouth goes dry when you realise you’ve been staring at him through your side glance, and Wonwoo has caught you in it, without even lifting his eyes once. 

“No, I- I was wondering if you’d taken a look at the other companies interested in this conference.”

He still doesn’t look up. His voice is a dry, lazy drawl, but so sharp it cuts through your skin. “Did you? Was there anything you observed?”

“I did. In fact, I’ve also mailed you a report on them. They’re mainly tech giants spread across the world, looking to expand their investment in the AI market, like us. But they’re also top companies in their respective countries, so I’m a little concerned whether our offer will be enough to secure this deal. I understand that the other potential deals will also be substantial, although the chance of a big difference isn’t much considering the current global recession. There’s been few companies who have picked up pace with as much speed after the pandemic as ours, and I think that’s where our edge lies. But at the same time, I thought it best to warn you that the deal will not be easy. It will be a long, competitive negotiation.”

Wonwoo does look up now. 

“I see you’ve done your research well, Miss Y/L/N. Do send me a portfolio of the other potential investors you’ve found.”

“Noted, will do so.”

“Good girl.”

And then he goes back to whatever he was reading on his phone, leaving your lungs sans air, and your heart racing. You surely didn’t imagine that- and if you hadn’t known better, you’d think he was encouraging the way you were reacting to him. Did he get off on that kind of thing? Knowing he had his employee squirming for him, begging for his attention? 

You excuse yourself to the washroom to take a moment to recuperate. It felt embarrassing and exhilarating at the same time- a feeling you’d never felt yourself, but also a dangerous, forbidden zone of life you’d never explored. Is this how all the men you fucked and didn’t call back feel like when they asked you out on dates? Is this how your sister had felt like when she’d run away from home to marry her professor? Is this how Mingyu felt for his boyfriend?

God, no. This was not happening to you- your mindset, your work spirit, your concentration was not going to be ruined because of one man. You were not, are not that weak. He’s just a man, you tell yourself. At the end of the day, he thinks with his dick. Even if he may not be cishet, he’s probably an enabler or a silent acceptor to sexism and everything you’d fought your entire life for, because how could he have survived in the corporate world for so long?

You wash your face. 

That is it. This is the end to your ‘crush’ or infatuation or whatever the fuck this has been. It’s just hormones, it’s just attraction. Nothing fatal, nothing rare. You know well enough that Jeon Wonwoo has got every female employee in the company swooning after him, so there’s no need for you to think his attention is unique to you. So even if your body may be weak to his charms, your mind is stronger. 

You’re going to fake it till you make it.

_

Your confidence stays pretty much intact throughout the conference, especially when you put on your femme fatale face the moment you set your foot in Tokyo. It’s a city that really calls to you- with its modernity settled neatly in its heritage, nature and nightlife, it’s one of the cities in the world that you really admire. And you feel like you’ve come home, because the city truly is made for you. Fast-paced and unstoppable. 

And so, you take your mind off Wonwoo and focus only on your work. You ignore the way he insists you sit next to him through the conference, you ignore his hot, raspy whispers in your ears whenever he wants to tell you something, you ignore the way his eyes never leave your figure even during lunch when you’re free to mingle with everyone, you ignore the way he’s booked connected rooms for the two of you at the hotel. You ignore the way he’s the first to applaud when your presentation at the conference is complete, you ignore the way he insists on introducing you to every big shot at the dinner party after the conference, you ignore the way he doesn’t leave your side through the night. 

And in spite of your astute ignoring, you know you’re fucking lying to yourself. And even if you can hide your heart to the world, you can’t hide it to yourself. You cannot ignore the way your panties are just a tad bit sticky by the end of the night, you cannot ignore the way his smell lingers on your skin because you’ve spent the entire day beside him, you cannot ignore the way your body is running on overdrive and you absolutely need to cool yourself down. Your shower is not enough, so you head down to the swimming pool, with a bloody mary in your hands and lounge near the shallow end of the swimming pool in your skimpiest shorts and tank top because you didn’t bring a bikini. 

Your eyes are shut, your head leaning against the metal rails near the pool, so you don’t notice how the other guests at the swimming pool dissipate and you’re lying there as it gets later in the night. 

When you open your eyes again, feeling calmer after spending an hour in the water, Wonwoo stands in front you. He’s changed from his three-piece suit to a casual tank top and sweatpants tied low at his hips, a beanie over his hair, and for the first time, you have a clear view of his collarbones and the way his arms and chest are undulated with muscles. 

Is this appropriate boss-employee interaction?

There’s no time to wonder, because Wonwoo sits down on a chair behind him, his eyes still on you. 

“Relaxing after that long day?”

Oh, he’s really here to make conversation with you, is he?

“If I’m staying in a seven-star property, might as well treat it like a vacation.” You smirk. This is your third cocktail of the night, so you’re feeling slightly heady. It doesn’t help that the cold night is making your nipples pebble over the water. 

“You did so well today. Did not disappoint,” Wonwoo hums as his eyes rake over your figure. You gently sip down the rest of the cocktail, before placing it on the side and floating over closer to him. “Really? You think so?” “So good. Everyone was so impressed. Someone even asked me if you were looking to shift jobs somewhere else.” You smile. “Did they, now? What did you say?” You know this is tipping away from your professional relationship, the way you’re swinging your hips as you get up from the pool. It’s definitely a violation of professionalism, when you walk right up to him, ignoring the water droplets dripping behind you, and bend almost over him to retrieve a towel from a stack behind him. There’s a warm current of passion running through your veins when you see the way his tongue sticks out slightly to lick his lips as he unabashedly checks your figure out as your thin clothes cling to your body. When you finally wrap the towel around your body to soak up the drip, he replies, “Why? Are you looking to shift away? Is our company not enough?” “I don’t know, sometimes it can get boring.” You harden yourself to not whimper at the way his gaze pins you, forbids you from moving. There’s a long pause, before he stands up and replies, “Then, as your boss, it’s my responsibility to ensure you stay. Make sure there’s enough spice in your job to keep up your interest. Wouldn’t want to lose my best girl a month into the job, would I?” 

Fuck. He’s got you. Your heart skips a beat as you think of a quip to reply with, but you can’t. My best girl. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

He smirks when you don’t respond, you jaw slightly agape. 

“Goodnight, Miss Y/L/N. Don’t sleep in till late. We have a meeting at 8.”

_

Because you have some time until your company’s jet is scheduled to depart, so you’re roaming through the duty-free stores. You’re walking out of a chocolate store when you notice Mingyu’s life-sized poster, modelling for Calvin Klein. You smile and grab your phone to take a quick photo, before admiring the advertisement. It must be a recent shoot, because his hair is cropped short like you noticed when he last came over. His muscles look well defined in the photograph, where he’s posing shirtless with a single black tie tied loosely to his neck, and black jeans hung low on his lips. There’s a wildly sensual look in his eyes, as if begging to be taken as you pleased, and it makes you smirk. Now you have something more to tease him for, when you meet him the next time. 

“Pretty, isn’t he?” You haven’t realised when Wonwoo’s sidled up to your side, and you notice a Bulgari bag in his hands. So that’s where he’s been shopping while you were busy browsing through chocolates. Wonwoo’s eyes are fixed on the poster in front of you, an appreciative glint in his eyes. 

“Pretty indeed. For as long as I remember him.” 

Wonwoo turns to look at you, his eyebrow raised. “Are you a fan? Or a friend?” “The latter. Mingyu and I have been friends since high school.” “How interesting.” Eager to impress him, you elaborate, “I was the one who pushed him to get into modelling. Couldn’t have let looks like that slip, could I?” Wonwoo chuckles. “Indeed not. I’m sure many must thank you, including myself.” 

Wonwoo takes out a small box from the bag he’s carrying. Opening the box, you see there’s a bracelet inside. Set with at least sixty 24k diamonds. It makes your mouth water and your eyes shine, and you cannot help but envy his boyfriend, if he’s the one on the receiving end of such gifts. “What do you think?

You wonder if it’s too personal a question, but you’re also sure a lot of lines between professional and personal have gotten blurred over this trip. So you bravely ask him, “Is that for your boyfriend?” 

Wonwoo doesn’t show any sign of displeasure, if he feels it. His eyes still focused on Mingyu’s poster on the glowing display in front of you, he says, “Hmm. Do you think it’ll suit him?” 

Your throat goes dry. If he’s bought it for his boyfriend, why are his eyes fixed on Mingyu? But you don’t think about it. Mingyu’s looks are, after all, captivating. 

“I’m sure it will. He’s very lucky to be receiving such a pretty gift. He must be really precious to you.” You laugh lightly, trying to hide the bile of jealousy rising in your throat. 

Wonwoo puts away the gift. “He is, indeed.” His eyes now shift to yours. “Any favourite of mine is bound to be the most precious to me. And worthy of the prettiest of gifts, whatever they want.” 

You fight the blush creeping into your cheeks, trying to stop your heart from racing on. This is ridiculous. Why on earth are you getting into your feels when he’s clearly thinking and talking about his lover? God, Y/N, get a grip on yourself. He’s not yours, and by the look of love and yearning on his face, he never will be. 

It’s his voice that breaks you out of your trance. “Miss Y/L/N? The jet’s arrived. Don’t wanna miss it, do we?” You can’t help but nod dumbly and walk behind him to keep pace.

_

(iii)

After the trip, everything goes back to what it was earlier. To the outsider, that is. But you know that behind closed doors, so much has changed. It doesn’t have to be something tangible, but there’s something different in the way you’re behaving around each other. For one, you notice him checking you out more than once, and the fact that you’re catching him in the act means that he intends to be caught. He’s more reckless in the way he talks to you. More reckless in the way he picks you out to lead projects, asks you exclusively to accompany him to conferences and clients he’s meeting, wishing you good morning by looking you straight in the eye even when all eyes in the office are on him. 

But then the rumours begin. Favouritism. Must be sucking his cock under his desk. 

And it kills you. It poisons any joy you could enjoy under his attention. You’ve made it a point to not just avoid, but also fight against any such rumours about you, because you don’t want anyone else to get credit for your hard work and success, especially not a man. But you don’t want to confront him about this. For the first time, you know these rumours are absolutely false, because you know he couldn’t have any bad intentions towards you- a man who’s so loud and proud about having a boyfriend and has never even had a rumour with any woman before this, could not be looking for sexual favours. So you quietly keep your distance from him. Trying to finish work over emails instead of meeting him in his office. Trying to avoid eye contact and sit at least half the table away from him during meetings. You don’t want to embarrass him with these rumours, and you certainly hope the rumours haven’t reached his ears. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon, I won't be able to accompany you to this meeting with the Chois. I’m not feeling well tonight, and I really would like to go home and rest.” You keep a straight face when he comes to your cabin asking you if you’re ready to leave with him. His back is towards the rest of the office, so he misses the way everyone looks up from their work to look at the two of you.

“Unwell? You should’ve told me earlier. I would have cancelled the dinner meeting tonight.”

“No, of course you don’t need to do that on my account, Sir!”

He shakes his head, one gelled lock of hair falling into his eyes. “How do you travel home?”

“I have my car.”

“And a chauffeur, I hope?”

“No, I drive myself.”

“Well, then Yunho’s going to drive you home tonight. You’re in no a state to drive home yourself if you’re feeling unwell.”

Your eyes widen, “No- I don’t want to impose. How are you going to go to the meeting, then? You’ll need Yunho with you.”

He narrows his eyes, his gaze piercing. “You underestimate me. I do not need anybody for a meeting with a client. Especially not a secretary.”

You maintain his gaze. “But I don’t want to inconvenience you on my behalf.”

“I will be more inconvenienced if I worry about you going home alone in this state.”

God. Who’s gonna tell the man that you’re in the fucking pink of your health and you don’t need him to fuss over you like this? Maybe you should’ve just gone with him to the dinner, because this is going to create more fodder for rumours. But you can’t argue any more with him, he’s too stubborn. 

“Alright. If that’s what you want.”

His lips tilt upward at the edge. “Good. Take tomorrow off too.”

“No-”

“That was not a suggestion, Miss Y/L/N. Don’t disobey me.”

And then he turns around and walks out of your cabin, leaving you speechless, and at least ten pairs of eyes staring at you. You can only hope the thin glass walls of your cabin prevented the conversation from floating out.

_

You must really be married to your work, because one day off and you’re fucking losing it. You realise, as you wake up at six in the morning, like any other work day, that you’ve not taken a single day off this year. The last time you took leave was last year when you’d visited your parents. You can’t even fall asleep again, which is awful because you slept fitfully last night. Because of him. He invaded your dreams, leaving you sweaty under the blanket, and an uncomfortable wetness between your thighs. But you still get out of your bed, intent on making it through the day, and not becoming unproductive. 

All your work is completed within the next three hours, so by the time people your age are actually waking up on a holiday, you’re sitting on your sofa feeling listless because you have nothing to do. There’s no new books you need to read, no new recipe you want to try out. You don’t really watch movies or dramas. You ask Spotify to play a random song for you, but it turns out to be a sex song trending right now. The moans in the background of the track don’t help. The lyrics about someone older clutching your throat while taking you to heaven also don’t help. You turn off the song immediately, and again fall back on your couch, debating whether you should go out for a jog in this cooler weather, when your phone dings. 

It’s a photo from Mingyu. When you open it, you burst out laughing at the caption. It’s just a picture of him eating a cupcake, but the caption says I feel like I might die if I eat this. Seemingly normal to anyone else, it’s incredibly funny to you because it’s a red velvet cupcake. And you both swore on red velvet cupcakes back in high school that you’d be best friends forever. 

You type back, You’re still my best friend.

You can see that he’s started typing, but then he stops. A second later, your phone rings. 

“People don’t go MIA on their best friends for weeks. I would not know even if you lay murdered in your apartment. In fact, no one would know. Not even your family or the police.”

“Well, I haven’t been murdered in my apartment. I’ll ask the murderer to let you know if they do murder me.”

He groans. “Don’t mess with me. Why are you checking messages and answering calls so early in the morning?”

“You have a problem with me checking your texts too?” You giggle.

“No, Y/N, I’m just- I don’t know, worried. Did you resign because of your boss?”

“God I could, actually. He forced me to take a leave today because I told him I was sick last night to avoid going on a meeting with him.”

“You lied to him and got a leave? That’s a win in my books, love.” He cackles, and you wish you could laugh with him.  

“Not if it fuels rumours of favouritism, Gyu.”

He sighs. “Oh fuck. Not that shit again. But, really, are you well?”

“No. I’m just horny and mad, both because of Wonwoo.”

“Do you want to rant?”

“I could do with a ranting session. But are you free?”

“I am, the entire day. I could come over. And you could sit on my face and rant. How does that sound?”

You giggle as a spike of arousal shoots through you. “Sounds like my best friend.”

_

Mingyu arrives half an hour later, a little bit of stubble on his jawline. As soon as he steps into your apartment, you pull him to yourself, grabbing his collar, and he smiles against your lips as you press a kiss against his jaw, eager to feel the stubble against your lips. “God, you’re really horny, hmm? Did you touch yourself while I was coming?” He flips you and pins you against the wall, his hands straying down to your breasts as he finds your nipple already hardened. “I did, what took you so long?” “Didn’t know office traffic is so bad. I don’t get out of my house this early, you know?” You hum against his lips, his warm cherry lips which taste like iced americano and the red velvet cupcake he had earlier. “Let’s get you back to bed then, baby.” He pulls away and giggles, “You’re so impatient, Y/N.” But he follows you to the bedroom, as you tug him away. On the way he pulls off your top and shorts, and he lies down first in your bed. “C’mere. Give me a taste of that red velvet, baby.” 

Oh, he looks good. Your mind goes back to the first time the two of you had fucked, back in your college dorms. You’d been so heartbroken that day- your crush had turned you down after one date because he’d wanted to have sex, but when you’d told him you were a virgin, he’d laughed at you and left you midway through the date. But Mingyu, forever your cheerleader, had shown you that you’d fallen for the wrong guy. When he’d gone down on you, giving you your life’s first orgasm using his tongue, you’d seen stars. You deserve the best, Y/N-ie. He’d left you speechless when he’d begun thrusting inside you, nothing on your mind except him and just how perfect he was, and how you were such a fool to not have realised it before. I love you, Mingyu. He’d smiled, the post-nut glow on his golden face, I love you too, Y/N.

But you were late. Mingyu started dating someone else within a week. And you’d suppressed your feelings forever, as you realised they were not mutual. You were better off as best friends, even better as best friends with benefits. You didn’t want to lose him. 

Those feelings right in your throat again, right now, as he pulls you on top of him and kisses you gently. You’re moaning his name as he pulls you on your face in one go, kissing your thighs, his breath heavy on your core where he’s purposely not touching, leaving you whiny. But you’ve had enough of his teasing, so you tug his hair and pull him towards your bare pussy. 

He dives in headfirst, and you grab the headboard as a scream escapes your throat. His tongue laps up your juices, and you see the way he sniffs your pussy, making you clench as his tongue enters you gently. “God, you’re such a tease, baby. Making me forget what I wanted to say.” You tug harder at his hair as he licks faster, and you grind down on his nose. He alternates between flattening his tongue at your clit and using his tongue to thrust into your cunt, already loose from your arousal. But his technique is top notch- just the way it was back in college, when twenty-year old nerdy you had lost your virginity to him. And you climax within a few minutes, your essence coating his smooth face, making his skin shine. 

When you look down at him, his eyes fixed on you, he places a soft kiss on your folds, before whispering, “I thought you wanted to rant.” 

You push yourself down on him, waiting for him to continue eating you out, but he moves his lips away. Clearly he wants you to start talking before he restarts. So you do start. 

“Do you know I went on a trip with my boss?”

“Mmhm? Did not know that. What happened?” You forget your words for a second as Mingyu’s raspy voice sends shocks through your body. You have a wild urge to tug his face away from your cunt just to punish him, but you can’t help but give in to him. 

“He…”

_

“Do you want to go out tonight?”

“Tonight?” You’re opening your mouth less because your jaw still hurts from how wide it stretched to deepthroat Mingyu’s cock earlier. You’d forgotten how much of a monster it was, but it was nice to be reminded again. Especially when he came all over your tits and licked it all off you, turning you on again because of how he eagerly nipped at your nipples. But you’re too sore to get up now, so you’re both casually lying across each other as you surf through work emails on your phone and Mingyu watches something on YouTube. 

“Yes?” He props his head up on his elbow and looks down at you. 

“Tonight?”

“You heard me the first time.”

“I did, but I’m buying time to make up an excuse against it.”

He laughs and kisses you on the corner of your mouth. 

“If you don’t want to come out, then you can just tell me.”

“But I should be wanting to go out. I am free all day today, and it should be technically fun. Help me get my mind farther away from Wonwoo if I can snag a date.”

“Hell no. You’ll be my date. Think I’ll let another man flirt with you when I’m taking you out?”

You take a deep breath before looking away from your phone and looking up at him. You notice how pretty his red lips look, and how much you want to kiss him. How hard it is right now to remember that he has a boyfriend, and all this- whatever fragments of intimacy you get- is because his boyfriend is miraculously accepting of Mingyu fucking you and then going back to him. You’d never understand it, even though Mingyu’s said multiple times that it’s totally fine, but you won’t judge him for it. You take what you get and you won’t complain. 

So you take one hand and cup Mingyu’s jaw to pull him down. 

“Let’s go out this weekend, then? I need at least one business day to mentally prepare myself.” 

He kisses you as your breath mingles with his. “Whatever you want, baby.”

_

(iv)

You step out of the elevator dangling your car keys on your fingers when you notice a strangely familiar car pulled up in front of your own smaller car. The window rolls down.

“Mr. Jeon?” Your mouth gapes in shock, when the man gives you that characteristic smirk of his, which is reflected more in his eyes than in his lips. “Good morning. Are you sure you’re well enough to be attending work today? I’m okay with you taking another day off.” Your eyes widen, as you wonder for a second if he’s caught your lie, but then you quickly regain composure. “No Sir, I’m feeling perfectly fit. I’ll drive myself, so there was no need for you to come all the way here-” “No, no. Yunho will drive us to work.” 

He steps out of his seat, opening the door for you to enter the car. When you hesitantly take a step forward and are on the verge of entering the car, he says, his voice an octave lower, “You are of top priority, do you not realise, Miss Y/L/N?” With the way his gaze is trained on you, and with him coming all the way to your doorstep for no reason at all, you do somewhat realise now. But why he’s doing it is going all over your head. So you wordlessly enter the car’s backseat, and he joins you from the other side. 

The journey is spent in silence, but you can feel the way his eyes flicker to glance at you through the back view mirror. The company car is comfortable in every way possible, and Yunho is a great driver, but you still can’t breathe through the entire journey because you’re on your toes. You quietly regret wearing a pencil skirt with a slit reaching up to your knees, because as you sit in the car, the slit rides up to your thighs and you have goosebumps all over. You can just hope that Wonwoo doesn’t notice. 

The two of you entering the office together doesn’t do anything to reduce the rumours. There are even more eyes staring at the two of you now, but you realise it’s a futile effort to try and quash the rumours. People will gossip if they want to, even if there’s no grounds for their gossip. So you let Wonwoo walk you down to your cabin, and before leaving he tells you to check your schedule. “I will, Sir. Have any changes been made? I have just one video conference today in the evening as far-” “Yes, you’ll be accompanying me to lunch today. There’s a follow-up meeting with the Chois, so I want you to be there.” And then he doesn’t wait for you to reply before he struts out of your cabin.

Wow. Lunch too. Now you really can’t stop the rumours.

_

Thankfully, lunch is a solemn affair. You’re too busy looking at figures and prospective business plans for the success of your collaboration with the Chois to question why Wonwoo insists you sit as far away from Choi Seungcheol, the CEO of Choi Enterprises, as possible. So you end up sitting next to him, and there’s nobody else at the table except Yunho and Mr. Choi’s assistant. As the food gets served, you get started with the short presentation you prepared on your way to the lunch meeting, but Wonwoo quickly places a hand on your exposed thigh and stops you from speaking. “Let’s enjoy the lunch first, shall we? Seungcheol doesn’t need to be convinced any more, Miss Y/L/N.” Your lip twists when you wonder why Mr. Jeon is on first name basis with Mr. Choi, but Seungcheol quickly tells you the reason. “We’re old friends, Miss Y/L/N. We’re not here to discuss business, are we, Wonwoo? We’re just here to enjoy a meal at our favourite restaurant.” Wonwoo chuckles, and you open your mouth to say something, but his hand on your thigh squeezes once before moving away, as he whispers slowly in your ear, “Relax for a minute, Miss Y/L/N. You don’t have to always work your pretty brain all the time. Just enjoy the meal.”

To say that you’re stunned is an understatement. You don’t understand what’s going on, but there’s an unspoken conversation happening between Wonwoo and Seungcheol, and you don’t end up talking about work throughout the meal. Seungcheol is good enough to make you feel at ease as he asks questions as far away from work as possible. But nothing today seems to be going as expected- starting from the way Wonwoo came to pick you up, to the way his hand touches your exposed thigh more often than necessary. You eventually let it go- not questioning it, but just enjoying the attention, and the lasagna because when else will you eat at such a fine dining restaurant any time soon?

_

Thankfully, the rest of the day and the next passes by in a better fashion, without any unexpected incidents. It’s late on Saturday evening when you’re just finishing your workout at the gym near your apartment that you get a text from Mingyu. Coming to pick you up in an hour. Hope you’re ready to let loose tonight <3 

Fuck, you’d forgotten about your plan about going out with Mingyu. For a minute or two, you debate the pros and cons of cancelling the plan last-minute. But then Mingyu’s whiny, puppy voice flashes in your head as you remember that in the last few months, you’ve cancelled more plans than him, and you’ve only gone out for once in every two months. Fuck it. You deserve to let loose too. You deserve to give a break to your heart and your mind. And you deserve another evening of pure fun with your best friend.

So by the time Mingyu arrives, you’re dressed in a black silk bralette paired with high waist black jeans- the most casual outfit that exists in your wardrobe right now. You tie your hair up, exposing your neck, and wear a simple necklace to finish the look. 

“Damn girl. Did I tell you that you look hot?” Mingyu’s whisper is hot near your ears when he comes to hug you, and you giggle. “You’ve cleaned up well yourself.” That is sarcastic, and he knows it, because the smug look on his face says it all.

When the two of you enter the club, Mingyu’s arm is in yours, and you can see how people perceive the two of you as a couple, wearing matching all-black outfits. You don’t care, wishing to live your fantasy for a moment, and wondering what it really would be like to be Mingyu’s lover. To have him to yourself all the time, without sharing him with a boyfriend you’ve never met, and you probably don’t want to meet. To show him off to all the people in your office who straight up ask you why you don’t date even if you’re not getting any younger. To hold him close all night, his warmth acting like your personal weighted blanket, and not feel the ache in your chest every time he leaves in the morning.

As the first round of shots go down your throat, you head to the dance floor, Mingyu’s hands wrapped around your hips and you two move on your own beat. There are people around you who recognise Mingyu, but he doesn’t even look at them. His eyes are all focused on yours, so you maintain his gaze. Getting lost in his eyes, you want to lean in and kiss him. But it would be inappropriate. It’s one thing to sleep with your best friend in the privacy of your apartment, another thing to kiss him publicly when he has a boyfriend. So you just smile hazily as you stare at him to your heart’s content. If you’re just his dirty little secret, you’ll take it. Mingyu has more than enough love in his heart for you and whoever his mysterious boyfriend might be. You’re satisfied with just a place in his huge, beautiful heart. 

You’re really getting into your feels now, as the songs change to more upbeat songs which you like dancing to. Right then, Mingyu bends down and whispers near your ears, to ensure you hear him. “Y/N-ie? I want you to meet someone.” You look up towards his face, mouthing a silent who, before he whispers again, “Turn around, love.” 

And you do. 

At first, you’re sure it’s an illusion of the flashing lights of the nightclub, increased by the effect of the alcohol running through your veins. But then Mingyu’s voice is again breathy near your ear, “Meet my boyfriend, Jeon Wonwoo.”

Time stops around you.

_

(v)

When you come back to your senses, you’ve somehow moved to one corner against the bar, far away from the din of the dance floor.

The man in front of you smiles, a dazzling, beautiful smile you’ve never seen before, and your head reels. You fall back into Mingyu’s arms, who swiftly catches and steadies you. You can’t believe the sight in front of you. You emit a loud gasp as Mingyu’s touch makes you realise this is, in fact, reality. “Your boyfriend?”

“Hi, sweetheart.” Wonwoo’s voice is unbearably deep, and he’s so close that you can hear him even in the noise of the club. But you still can’t register his presence, so you reach behind to grab onto Mingyu’s hands. “Gyu? Mingyu- is this a joke?” But the man you’re talking to merely giggles and lowers his face near your neck, so that you can feel his cheeks against yours. 

“Mr. Jeon-” Wonwoo takes another step forward, trapping you in between the two men. “Wonwoo, please.” “Oh. Wonwoo- I- I’m sorry-” He smiles, and Mingyu giggles again against you. “Sorry? For what? God, she’s cuter than what you told me, Mingyu.” His eyes flicker to the man behind you before falling to you again. “Mingyu also told me that you have a lot to complain about me?” “No! No, I didn’t mean any of that? Mingyu!” It must look pathetic, how you’re leaning back towards Mingyu and grabbing to his hands from behind you, because you want him to be on your side. But Mingyu indulges you, as he says, “I’m here, baby, I’m here.”

But it’s clearly not enough, so you turn around to see him. “Is this real?” Mingyu’s smile is bright, “Yes, Y/N-ie.” “Why didn’t tell me before?” “What’s the fun in that?” 

It really sinks in for you now. You turn back around, to see Wonwoo still standing there, the gentle smile still on his face. He lifts his hand to touch your hair, then your cheeks and finally cups your jaw. “Do you want to get out of here, Y/N?” God, he even makes your name sound pretty. “Let’s go somewhere where we can talk more, hmm?” You nod your head, “Yes, please.” 

_

That’s how you end up in Mingyu’s car, his long red sedan, which he’s currently racing off the streets of the city, the night air making you sober as you reach Wonwoo’s place, where Mingyu has moved in, as you learn. Through the journey, Wonwoo and Mingyu hold hands over the console, and somehow pieces connect in your more sober mind. Fuck, how did you never consider this possibility before? Bits and pieces from what Mingyu had told you comes back to you now. The boyfriend was initially a sugar daddy sort of thing because he didn’t live in the city- he would come around in between work schedules and pamper and spoil Mingyu for entire weekends or longer, during which Mingyu would not even check his texts. You’d thought it must have been some celebrity guy, if he’s so busy with schedules and so rich. But you were wrong. So, so wrong. Mingyu had officially started dating this boyfriend six months ago, coinciding with exactly when Wonwoo had moved back to the city permanently. 

“What are you thinking in your pretty head?” Wonwoo looks at you through the back mirror as Mingyu’s pulling up near Wonwoo’s home. 

“This still feels unreal. Why didn’t you tell me before, Mingyu? God, I can’t believe I said all that to you.” 

Mingyu laughs, but doesn’t respond. It’s only when you three enter the house and get seated on the couch, you in between the two boys, that he starts talking. “What do you want to know, Y/N? Right from the beginning?” 

“No, I get the beginning. I pieced it together in my head.” Somewhere from behind you Wonwoo chuckles, and mumbles smart girl. But you don’t dare to look at him, trying to ground yourself in reality. So you stay turned towards Mingyu. “Did you know he’s my boss even before I told you?” 

“I did. After Wonwoo and I got together, I told him all about you. I showed him your photos, told him you’re my best friend, told him we also sleep together sometimes.” 

“And you were okay with that?” You finally develop some courage to look into Wonwoo’s eyes, his beautiful black eyes that are so much sexier up close. 

“Of course I was. How could I not be, when you made my baby boy so happy? You and I both know that Mingyu has too much love to give, so I knew that him loving you wouldn’t take him away from me.” 

“Lo-loving me?” Your voice is feeble, and you look back at Mingyu. Your eyes drift to his cherry lips before looking back at him, and he smiles, his canines out on display. “I do love you, Y/N, you know that, right? I’ve meant it every single time I’ve said it.” “But as a friend…?” “That’s only because I didn’t want to lose you by confessing. And also because I had no idea how I was falling for two people at the same time. You and Wonwoo.” Your eyes drift to his lips again as you sigh. It’s so strange, how conflicted your heart had been just earlier this evening, but now your body is radiating with a slow-flowing joy. Noticing your gaze, Mingyu leans in and gently kisses you on your mouth, a chaste, soft kiss, but it’s sweet like nectar. “You want me? Mingyu?” “So much, Y/N-ie. And Wonwoo wants you too, you know.” 

You finally turn around to look at the other man beside you, his patient smile beautiful. “Did Mingyu tell you everything?” He grins, “Yes, everything.” You close your eyes in embarrassment, but Wonwoo’s hands gently cup your cheeks, holding your face in his hands, upturned towards him. “How could he not? I pried every little detail from him.” “Was this the reason why you took the job at our branch?” “Yes. I came to the posting at the headquarters for Mingyu, but I shifted for you. Because I fell for you too whenever Mingyu described you to me. And after meeting you that first time at that meeting at the headquarters, I knew it was a lost case. My heart was yours before you even saw me.” “Oh, I saw you alright. You looked so handsome that day.” You can feel your cheeks heating up in a blush, and Mingyu coos at you from behind. His body somehow moves closer, trapping you between the two boys, and you feel hot with the attention from the both of them. Mingyu’s hands weave through your hair, untangling your hair at the scalp, making you almost purr with pleasure, but you don’t move your eyes from Wonwoo’s face. 

“I want you so much, Y/N. I have wanted you for so long.” Wonwoo pauses and then chuckles, “Mingyu’s wanted to tell you for so long. But I wanted to wait, because I wasn’t sure of how you felt towards me. I’m still not sure… are you still mad at me?” You giggle, even more embarrassed by the second. “I could never be mad at you, Wonwoo.” “I genuinely, really wanted to take care of you, you know. Just take care of you.” Wonwoo’s smile is so gentle, so mature, and so warm. This is a new side of him that you’re seeing, and you realise you’re falling for him even more. “Wonwoo… you know my feelings already.” “But I want you to tell me, please. I need to know that it is the truth.” You pause for a moment, eyes taking in all the beauty of Wonwoo’s features. “I do want you. I want you so much I think I’m losing my mind over it.” 

And that’s all the confirmation it takes. Wonwoo leans down, his grip tightening on your jaw, as he kisses you with all the affection he has. You can’t help it but melt into his mouth, and the kiss deepens. You’ve been so curious for so long to find out what touching Wonwoo would feel like, so when he explores your mouth with the intense kisses, you roam your hands all over his body. Feeling the hair near his nape, the skin along his collarbones, his biceps under his button down shirt, his sculpted back that feels so broad to you. From behind you, you can feel Mingyu’s hands wandering around your body, near your hips, the skin exposed at your stomach below the bralette, inching towards the bottom of your breasts. You shiver at all of the contact, all of the attention. 

It’s only when Wonwoo breaks the kiss and you see Mingyu kneeling down on the carpet next to you, both the men facing you, that you realise that you want them both. So bad. 

“Do you want us both, Y/N?”

“Yes,” Your voice comes out in a rushed squeak because you’re breathless. “Yes, but… can we take this to your bedroom?”

No more words are needed. Mingyu immediately lifts you up in his arms, and you latch your legs around his waist, as he begins to feverishly kiss you as Wonwoo leads the two of you to his bedroom. You’re dropped gently on the bed and Mingyu gets in right next to you. Mingyu makes quick work of taking off his clothes, and Wonwoo stands in front of you, at the edge of the bed, cupping your face with his hands again. “Are you sure?” You nod. “Never been more sure of anything in my damn life.”

Wonwoo bends down to kiss you again. But this time, the kiss is no longer sweet, or exploratory. It’s the kiss of a hungry man eager to devour what is his. He doesn’t let you do anything in the kiss, except match his tempo, and it’s shocking how easily you’re letting in to him. It helps that Mingyu’s also kissing your neck, making you arch your back into him as you lean your neck to give him more area to kiss. Mingyu’s big hands grope at your bralette, and Wonwoo breaks the kiss to let him tug it off. Finding that you’re wearing nothing below it, Wonwoo curses and kisses you again, hard, pushing you on Mingyu’s big body which is all muscles now that the clothes are off. Mingyu’s hands come from behind to fondle your breasts, moaning low in your ears as you wriggle between his spread legs on your either side. You feverishly grip onto Wonwoo’s hips, who’s still standing, and his hands weave into your hair.

“My turn,” Mingyu whispers before attempting to lift you away from Wonwoo, but the older man swats his hands away. “Baby boys don’t demand. You don’t want to get punished yet, Mingyu-ah.” Your head tilts back on Mingyu’s shoulder as you feel the shiver run through his body at his boyfriend’s words. The crystal black in Wonwoo’s eyes becomes unimaginably darker as Mingyu whimpers in your ears. You reach behind to rub your hands over his thighs, his strong, thick thighs, and you can feel his hard length twitching through his boxers near the small of your back. You arch your back to give more access to your tits to Mingyu, who abuses your nipples by pinching and twisting them recklessly. He really loves your breasts, so you let him play, but you can’t stop yourself from moaning out loud now that Wonwoo can’t muffle you any longer with his kisses. 

Wonwoo takes a step away and takes in the sight in front of him. You can see the way his chest heaves with desperation, but his resolve is unbroken. You can see the way his cock is straining through his jeans, but you know his patience is crazy. He’s not going to break so soon. 

And he doesn’t. A slow smirk spreads over his face when his eyes meet yours. “So pretty, my little sweethearts. Pretty baby, are you having fun? Playing with my doll?” A spike of arousal shoots through you at the pet names, and Mingyu whimpers at being called pretty baby. “So much fun, Sir, I swear.” Your body reacts on its own, as you feel another gush of wetness flow into your panties at the way Mingyu calls Wonwoo sir. Fuck, their dynamic is so hot. “Then take off her pants like a good boy.” Mingyu leans in and you help him to get you out your jeans, leaving in nothing but your soaked panties. They’re white which means your arousal must be so evident through the lace, and Mingyu groans when he sees it. But he doesn’t touch you- he knows better.

Wonwoo grins and coos at you. “So pretty in white.” He leans in to kiss you again, before quickly flipping you over until you’re on your hands and legs. His hands gently grope your ass, making you giddy with his large hands patting your soft skin. But then you hear the sound before you feel the impact. The loud smack, a ghost of a touch on your ass, before it starts burning and it’s only then that you realise he’s spanked you. You’re still processing it, when he smacks the same spot again with incredible precision, and you jolt at the touch. He doesn’t give you time to recover- he keeps smacking the same, sensitive area, and you’re sure the spot of arousal on your panties have spread into a larger spot now and he can see it. Because you’re all but whimpering and screaming in Mingyu’s arms now, who’s ravaging your neck with nips and bites, his fingers still pinching your now sensitive nipples. Your body is hanging on the brink of overstimulation, and you’re so wet you think you can come untouched. 

Wonwoo seems to read your mind, because he says next, “Are you come from this, doll? Just a few spanks?” He smacks your ass again, and you jolt again, but Mingyu’s arms hold you in place. “Should I stop? Or should I make you come untouched like this if you like it so much?” 

You don’t respond. 

You can’t respond. 

Your body shakes uncontrollably as you let go of yourself and give in to the first orgasm of that night. Wonwoo spanks you right through the orgasm, but once your shaking reduces, he gently pulls you up and takes off your panties. From how you’re pulled up against Wonwoo’s standing body, you can see how flustered Mingyu looks, his bulge straining through his boxers, the stain big and drops of sweat falling off his beautiful body. He looks gorgeous like this, and you’re dying to kiss him. Once your panties are off, Wonwoo loosens his grip on you, and you seat yourself on Mingyu’s lap, his legs still spread, and you both moan when your bare pussy comes in contact with the bulge in his boxers. You grind down on the hard length as you capture his lips in a kiss, your fingers leaving impressions on his shoulders with how hard you’re gripping him. He gropes your ass, still sensitive from the spanking, but his touch soothes you. You grind down on him harder, and it’s only when he breaks away from the kiss with a hiss that you realise he’s come in his pants as you feel the wetness from his boxers stick to your own wet cunt. “God, that’s so hot Mingyu.” You praise him, as he looks at you with unfocused, desperate eyes, and you kiss him again. 

But then you feel a weight on the bed behind you, and you turn around to see Wonwoo joining the two of you on the bed. His clothes are off, except his boxers, and you gasp when you see how well-built his body is. He’s much leaner compared to Mingyu but his build is so impressive, and your eyes trail down to where his abdomen gives way to his dick, which is very much visible through his boxers. Your hands immediately reach out to grab his shoulders, which are so wide, but he doesn’t let you touch him, instead grabbing your hair and pulling you into a kiss as you’re seated, trapped between Wonwoo and Mingyu. 

“Did you make my baby boy come without touching him?” He asks you between sloppy kisses, before his lips trail down to bite your neck, while Mingyu’s mouth is focused on your tits now, sucking at the nipples, soothing any abrasion from his pinching earlier. You nod unable to form words with all the attention, and Wonwoo understands as he laughs lowly. “Turns out both my playthings are little sluts for each other. So hot for each other, aren’t you?” Mingyu moans next to you, and you can feel how turned on he is by the dirty talk, as his dick twitches after having just orgasmed a few minutes ago. You grab his head and push his face into your breasts as he laps all over your tits. 

Once Wonwoo’s left hickeys all over your neck, he extends a hand to cup Mingyu’s jaw and lifts the younger boy’s head to look at him. There’s an intense look shared between them- you can see Mingyu’s jaw slacken at the touch, as he bends forward for more attention from his boyfriend, so he gets it. Wonwoo leans in to kiss him, and his hand moves from his jaw to his neck, slightly grasping it and choking it while he sits up on his knees to kiss Mingyu out of breath. Mingyu’s back arches as Wonwoo towers over him, and you move backward, leaning against the headboard, turned on even more at the sight in front of you. 

You’ve never had a threesome, and never imagined you’d be so okay with Mingyu being shared with someone else. He’s always been yours even if just as a friend with benefits. But you find that sharing Mingyu with Wonwoo gives you no problem at all- perhaps it’s because you know they’re already a couple, but also because you can see it in their eyes how much they’re in love with each other. 

You pull your legs towards yourself, and Wonwoo soon pulls Mingyu into his arms, the younger man’s legs spread around Wonwoo’s legs, close enough that their dicks brush against each other through the clothing barriers, making Mingyu whine out loudly and Wonwoo hiss at the contact. They feverishly kiss each other, almost as if you’re not there in the room. But you don’t feel out of place. You feel somewhat like a voyeur, but a welcome one, because soon, Wonwoo makes eye contact with you even while kissing Mingyu and sees the way you’re flicking your own clit. He breaks the kiss, and says, “Y/N- I thought you knew better than to touch yourself without my permission.” He takes your hand in his own, away from your body. “Please,” you whisper, but he shakes his head. Mingyu turns to look at you two, his chest heaving. “She looks so pretty like that, Wonwoo.” Wonwoo’s head turns towards Mingyu, a smirk on his face. “You like it?” “Yes, so much.” “Then I guess I can’t be mad. But-” he breaks himself off, getting out of the bed to open the bedside drawer. “I’ll still have to tie you up.” You notice that he’s brought out a tie and a bottle of lube. He leans in to tie your hands away from you, and a part of you gets embarrassed that Mingyu’s seeing you like this, because you’ve never let him tie you up, because you didn’t know you were into it, you would rather tie him up. But your pussy throbs when your hands are tied behind you, leaving your breasts arched out towards the front, and Wonwoo extends one hand to enter two fingers into your wet pussy as he goes back to position and resumes kissing Mingyu, his other hand holding on to Mingyu’s hips. 

It’s funny to see how quiet Mingyu is with Wonwoo, all pliant and desperate. When he’s with you, he’s running his mouth endlessly, babbling or being a brat, giggling whenever either of you slip up the slightest, and yapping even through the most intense of orgasms. But Wonwoo, no words seem to come out of his mouth. Only moans, pretty moans of varying pitches, whines and whimpers, the occasional grunt and groan, because any word he tries to form gets broken down into nonsensical sounds ending in whimpers. 

Wonwoo removes his hand from your cunt, leaving you high on the impending orgasm, and feeling so, so empty. You almost whine at the loss, but Wonwoo speaks before you, clearly he’s having a moment with his boyfriend so you don’t want to interrupt greedily.

“Did you wear that all evening?” When Mingyu replies in affirmative, a breathy yes, Wonwoo grunts and twists his boyfriend’s nipples before kissing him again. You wonder for a second what that is, but then you twist your body to look at the spot where Wonwoo’s other hand is. 

You find a crystal butt plug sitting snugly between Mingyu’s asscheeks, shining bright against his golden skin, and your pussy clenches at the sight. Wonwoo’s hand touches all around it, clearly teasing, before he pulls away from the kiss and leans over Mingyu to see the butt plug himself. There’s a sudden gasp as Wonwoo lightly slaps over the plug, and then slowly, excruciatingly slowly pulls out the butt plug. “Please, no- no, pl- I- Wo- sir!” Mingyu fumbles over his words as he feels his gaping hole become empty, and Wonwoo sighs at the sight, his bottom lip tugged between his teeth as he controls himself. “Such a whore, Gyu, wearing the prettiest plug in your pretty ass all night for anyone to feel up.” “No! O-only for- for you, sir!” Wonwoo’s fingers easily enter the slender hole and you feel your enter body get hot when you feel his other hand also at your pussy, his thumb flicking your clit. He’s fingering the two of you simultaneously but his face is so focused, so resolute, while the two of you are breaking apart from his touch. 

Wonwoo’s hand soon leaves your pussy and you see him turn around Mingyu with the younger’s back towards him. “Ready?” He whispers in his boyfriend’s ear, biting his earlobe and taking off their boxers. Mingyu’s whining reply comes soon after, “Please, need it inside me, please sir!” Wonwoo chuckles, and he squirts lube into his hand before entering Mingyu’s hole one finger at a time. 

Your eyes are blown wide at the sight before you, as you see Mingyu squirm and whine as Wonwoo enters nearly three fingers at once, pumping slowly. Mingyu can’t help but babble, “Please, I’m ready- so ready, don’t need prep-” “You’re right, whores do not need prep. Your ass was made for me, wasn’t it?” Mingyu whines again, and you move in front of him to kiss his bare chest, licking his nipples softly, and you suddenly feel Mingyu’s body jolt up. 

Wonwoo’s cock has entered him, up to the hilt, all in one go. It’s not easy- seeing that Wonwoo’s cock is long and incredibly erect right now, but Mingyu takes it all in with a scream of his boyfriend’s name. “God, still so tight. Fucking heaven.” Wonwoo sets his own lazy pace, his hands casually gripping Mingyu’s hips. Mingyu’s cock is still so erect, its bulbous head red and sensitive as it leaks all over the bed without any attention given to it. You see Mingyu enter a completely different level of submissiveness, where he doesn’t even want to be a brat and tease back, he gives in completely as his boyfriend fucks him stupid.

“Gyu? How about you eat out this pretty pussy here, hmm? You like it, don’t you?” “Yes, I wanna- please- can I?” Mingyu looks up at you, as if for permission, but you instantly pull his head down towards your wet pussy and he dives right in, his tongue entering you immediately. You and Wonwoo both moan out loud at the sight, and he begins fucking Mingyu faster. He fucks Mingyu into you, and the additional force makes Mingyu suck your clit and make out with your pussy even better. You throw your head back in pleasure, feeling a knot in your stomach building up.

 “I’m going to come all over his face, Wonwoo. Will you let him come with me?” Wonwoo chuckles, “Hold on for a second longer, look at the pathetic way his cock is leaking. He’s going to come untouched again, isn’t he?” Mingyu’s moans buzz into your pussy and your voice becomes desperate. “Please let him come now! I can’t hold it-” And that’s it. You climax right then, your essence covering all of Mingyu’s face, who licks you through the orgasm, and you see him hit his orgasm too, his cock wringing out ropes and ropes of cum as he comes untouched for the second time that night. “You were right, Wonwoo. He really is pathetic. He’s still hard after coming twice untouched.” It’s so hot to talk about Mingyu like he’s not even in the room, and you can see how much he likes it. Almost as if you both can use him as you please for your pleasure only. His big body falls limp on the bed, whining, when Wonwoo suddenly pulls out of him and leans over to kiss you. 

As Mingyu lies down, recovering his breath, Wonwoo tugs you closer to him and kisses you. His mouth is warmer now, the kiss more sloppy, and the scent of Mingyu is not entangled with his own masculine scent, making you heady with pleasure. Wonwoo’s hands soon find your clit as he rubs you hard and fast while making out with you, his other hand gripping your hair to hold you in place as your knees almost buck and collapse under his ministrations. “I’m not done with you yet, doll. Tired already?” He pulls away but you chase him and end up licking all over his jaw. “Not tired. I’ll take whatever you give, Wonwoo.” 

You almost miss Wonwoo’s low grunts when Mingyu whines from beside you, “Me too… Y/N-ie kiss me too.” Identical, indulging, fond smiles burst out on both your and Wonwoo’s faces, and even he can’t come to scold his cute boyfriend. “Attention whore,” Wonwoo’s words don’t sting, they’re filled with a gentle fondness that recplicates the one in your heart, and you both lie on either side of Mingyu to kiss him all over, you make out with him and Wonwoo lavishes his skin with hickeys that will leave marks tomorrow. Mingyu sighs and whimpers in the spotlight, and you notice how his dick chubs up again. Wonwoo notices it too, because he laughs, a mean undertone in his voice, as bends down to kiss the tip of his boyfriend’s thick cock. 

“You’re so pretty all over,” you whisper to Mingyu as you kiss his stomach and eventually take his hardening cock into your mouth, inch-by-inch to avoid gagging on the thick length. Your hands are still tied behind you, so you can’t stroke the rest of the length that doesn’t fit inside your mouth. “Don’t praise him, don’t encourage him to be more of a cockslut,” Wonwoo says, his fingers fondling your breasts as he watches you suck his boyfriend’s cock. Mingyu’s dick spews pre-cum into your mouth with the simultaneous praise and degradation, and you relax your jaws to deepthroat him further. 

“Y/N! You- god, Y/N-ie you’re so good at this, please- Wonwoo, can I fuck her mouth? Please?” Your mouth waters at the idea so you look up at Wonwoo, your tongue still licking at Mingyu’s tip, begging him to let Mingyu fuck his big cock into your mouth, but Wonwoo glares back, looking ready to devour you. You haven’t missed how his cock is still rock-hard, proud and red against his abs, so you move up from Mingyu’s dick and bend down to place kisses on Wonwoo’s tip too. He groans at the contact, cursing under his breath. Then he sits up and flips you around, until you’re on your stomach on the bed, your mouth inches away from Mingyu’s dick, and Wonwoo’s dick pokes at your folds, rubbing himself with the wetness of your pussy. He places a hand on the back of your head and pushes you down on Mingyu’s cock, right as he sinks into your cunt, the whole length inside you at once, and you moan around the cock in your mouth. Your hands still tied behind you, you feel your nipples brushing against the sheets, and all the stimulation is too much to take. 

Your mouth full of cock, you push yourself back towards Wonwoo, to take as much of him as you can, desperate for him to set a faster pace, but you can’t take your mouth off the dick to tell him the same. Thankfully, he seems to read your mind, or rather, his self-restraint breaks, as he snaps his hips faster against you, moaning about how tight you are, so wet, so warm, so sexy and how he’s moulding you to fit his cock, shaping you to fit you, and how he wants to come inside. So you get up from Mingyu’s cock for a second, to say, forming words slowly, “You can, Wonwoo.” His pace stutters, “I can? You sure?” “Yes please. I want it. Want you to fill me up, Mr. Jeon!” 

And that does it for him. He buries himself into you as he comes inside you, his thick cum being pushed further inside as he lazily thrusts you through it. You come seconds later as Mingyu himself comes inside your mouth, and you take it all in, your body eager to please. Mingyu sighs, his face red but the pleasure clearly painted on his features as he flashes you a sated grin. As Wonwoo pulls out of you, he gets off the bed to bring a piece of cloth from his washroom, and you move up to kiss Mingyu, the kiss slow, exhausted, but so warm. You’re smiling against each other’s mouths, the skin-to-skin contact feeling like heaven, and he runs his hands through your hair. When Wonwoo comes and sits next to you, he kisses his boyfriend first, another gentle, warm kiss that makes your heart full. “You did so well, baby.” He tells Mingyu, who gives him another dopey smile, before he turns to you, and kisses you too. “You too, darling.”

Darling. You melt at the pet name, stretching your hand to hug Wonwoo and Mingyu at the same time, the latter snuggling into you, needy after all the sex and Wonwoo chuckles. “Let me clean you up and then you guys cuddle.” “And you?” Mingyu’s voice is small, whiny, and Wonwoo laughs. “I’ll be right back with y’all. I need a shower, okay?” And when he kisses your and Mingyu’s forehead and disappears into the washroom in all his naked glory, you sigh peacefully and snuggle into Mingyu’s chest, the latter placing tiny kisses near your hairline as you both fall asleep. 

_

(vi)

You know, somewhere in the middle of the night, Wonwoo had joined the two of you in that big bed. You’d ended up sandwiched between the two men, your head snuggled in Wonwoo’s chest, as Mingyu spooned you from behind. Safe to say, you did not need a blanket all night. 

Like clockwork, your body wakes up at six am, just as the sun begins shining through the pale blue curtains. Wonwoo is not next to you, but the pillow isn’t cold. You can see Mingyu still snoring away, so you gently detach his legs from where it was tangled with yours all night, and get out of the bed. Your legs are still sore, but you manage to find Mingyu’s t-shirt from last night and slip it on and walk out of the room. 

In the daylight, you can see just how elegant and posh the house is. Unlike your apartment, the walls are done in dark shades of blue, and you think how accurately it reflects Wonwoo’s soul. The furniture is all wood, and you know that the multiple appliances in the kitchen and the dressing room you see are additions from Mingyu’s end. You find Wonwoo standing in the open kitchen, leaning against the counter as he hums softly and sips his coffee. Seeing you, he looks up and a beautiful smile spreads across his face. 

In the daylight, Wonwoo looks different. 

In the daylight, Wonwoo looks attainable. You step closer to him and hug him, your arms finding your way around his slender waist, and he hugs you back, resting his chin atop your head. “Good morning, darling. Can’t sleep even on a Sunday?” You laugh into his shoulder. “Neither can you. There’s a reason why people say we’re dating our work.” “Not me.” He pulls your head away to face him, “I know I’m dating two beautiful people, the most beautiful people in the world, my favourites.” Your heart fills at the fondness in his eyes. 

“Wonwoo, I know we talked last night, but are you s-” “Are you sure? What you say matters the most, baby.” “I am, but you and Mingyu are in an open relationship and all…” “That was another ploy, of course. You think I could share Mingyu with anyone except his pretty little best friend who looks like a dream?” His words make you cringe, and you wonder if anyone ever sees this side of Wonwoo except Mingyu… and now, you. You lean in to kiss his pouty, pink lips, and Wonwoo’s nose scrunches up into an adorable smile. God, that’s the first time you’re seeing this smile. So you kiss him again, eager to get him to react like that again. And he does. The nose scrunch becomes a permanent feature as he kisses you deeper, and you can taste the coffee in his mouth. 

“Do you want coffee?” 

“Yes, please. Should I wake up Mingyu? I don’t want him to feel sad later for missing anything.” You hug Wonwoo one more time before you feel another pair of hands grabbing you from behind and crushing the two of you in a bear hug. “I feel sad already, Y/N-ie. Thank you for thinking about me. Who do I even have in this world except you, hmm? Certainly not my boyfriend.” Mingyu’s morning voice is extra lispy and extra raw, but it feels so warm near your back.

You open your eyes to see Wonwoo kissing Mingyu from above you. “Please don’t gang up against me on our first day together.” Wonwoo’s quiet mumbling doesn’t go unnoticed and you and Mingyu both end up laughing. You hug the two of them again, and your heart settles into a warm peace you never want to get out of, for your life. 

[bunnys-kisses]

Hi 👋 could I please order a

Maple Cream Pie with a Tonic Water, a Naked & Famous and a Hard Lemonade.

Please, for Lando Norris.

bakery menu!

thank you for submitting an order! i love getting them and have been trying my best to get through all of them! as for this one, thank you for the submission. i love what you ordered and i hope that you enjoy the fic! i messed around with the ages a bit since lando is only 24 (fuckin' baby), so i slowly inserted it into the team principal au where it does made the age gap a lil bigger! (i hope you dont mind)

maple cream pie ("either you wear the necklace with my name on it, or wear my bruises around your neck.") + tonic water (age gap) + naked & famous (bimbo/ditzy!reader) + hard lemonade (possessive behaviour)

cw: smut/pwp, team principal au, age gap (20s/40s), possessive behavior, reference to sugar daddy, bimbo!reader, mean!lando, innocent!reader, missionary position, dirty talk

lando didn't like sharing his toys. and now at almost forty he didn't like sharing the little thing he called his girlfriend. at his age, he shouldn't be chasing after women who barely held down a full-time job in their whole life. he should be settled down with a wife and some kids, at least that was what oscar told him. (damn bastard had been married for ten years with three kids now), instead lando chased young tail like he chased trophies.

except instead of a racer he was the team principal of mclaren. maybe it was the chip on his shoulder that year after year throughout his racing career, he barely missed the wdc. now as principal he could make sure that his drivers did better than he did. maybe it was to relive his youth, the way having you on his arm made him feel in his twenties again.

your smile could warm a brick of ice. especially when you tried to cover your mouth when you got shy. you stood out in the paddock, you were dressed so sweetly. while most were in branded with the mclaren logo. you were in a pretty sundress. it was an olive green colour with off white flowers printed on it.

lando saw you playfully slap his driver on the shoulder before you giggled. it made him get up from his desk and take off his headphones. he clenched his fists before he draped an arm around your shoulders. he smiled at his driver as you got pushed against his chest.

"what are you doing, sweetheart? shouldn't you be with the other girls? this is the boy's area." he said, as if there weren't more women in formula one since he raced.

you looked to your lover and giggled, "well, i wanted to see the action! and he was filling me in with what was going on."

he looked at his driver, the younger man wanted to fill you with something that was for sure. didn't help that the dress showed more of your breasts than he usually liked. lando looked to the other man and said, "i think it's time to get in the car soon. big day today."

the driver nodded, wanting to impress his boss. lando felt a swell of pride at his ability to scare off the younger man without much effort. his attention was taken back to you as you held onto the front of his shirt.

"meanie."

"meanie, huh?" lando laughed a little, "i'm not a meanie, sweetheart."

you nodded. you were so dumb it was cute, it was like a kitten that hadn't grown their teeth. you nipped rather than bit. you needed to be protected, sheltered. and the new mclaren driver was getting too close.

lando dropped his hand to your ass and gave it a firm squeeze, "right, right. because a meanie would buy his beloved girl anything she asked for. or make sure she was comfortable on every trip. all paid for, but i'm the real meanie right."

you dropped your shoulders a little, "you're not a meanie, landy."

he smiled and kissed you on the top of the head, "thank you, babe. now why don't you go see the others. race is gonna start soon." then gave your ass a pat before you left.

-

it would be a few nights later in your shared home. lando would meet you in the bedroom with a box. it wasn't an engagement ring. but something else. when you opened it, his eyes lingered on you.

"what is it?" you asked.

he smiled, "just open it. i promise it won't bite." then sat on the edge of the bed as you carefully opened the box. his eyes lingered on your breasts in the thin tank top you wore to bed.

inside the box was a gold necklace. a thin chain with his name on it, "lando". you picked it up from the box and admired it. you looked up at him and he kept his smile.

"either you wear the necklace with my name on it, or wear my bruises around your neck." his tone was dark, but his smile was like the sun, "i have to make sure that no one gets the wrong idea. i don't like sharing, babe. i'm greedy."

you nodded. so soft under his touch. you only wanted to make lando happy, be his special girl. you said to him, "you know i'd never cheat."

lando took your face in his hands and pulled you in for a heated kiss, "i know. it's not you i have the issue with. it's other men. the most dangerous thing on the planet is a man. and i need you safe. protected." before he got on top of you, to savour his girl, he put the necklace on you. he said, "there, that's perfect." he then cupped your breasts before he licked his lips, "it's improved your whole look."

you yelped as he got you onto your back and his hands on the waistband of the panties you were going to sleep in. you could feel his hungry gaze on you.

"such a little dummy." he chuckled as he yanked the panties down, "the prettiest thing i own." something curled in your stomach. a much older man with a lot of power at his disposal, yearning for something to pretty to fuck.

you practically wore a collar with his name on it so in case you got lost, someone would find you and bring you back to him. it was cute. with your soft lips and the roundness to your face. you looked like a painting on a chapel ceiling. an angel that lando got to pluck the wings off almost every evening.

your body responded to him well as he pushed the tank top off of you, revealing your stomach and eventually your breasts. lando realized that he liked women with a little softness to them. models were pretty, but you were beyond pretty. you curves as soft as your personality. a little dumb for him, nothing in that little head of yours. it was cute. that was why lando was so protective (possessive) of you.

once you were naked, you laid out on the bed. the soft bed that you slept in almost every night. lando got on top of you and eyed your naked form. stripped of everything except for the necklace. it was cute. maybe lando would break his promise and bruise up your pretty throat with his bites.

he got undressed and got between your legs with your knees bent. he even grabbed one of the pillows to elevate your hips for him. to get at the right angle.

"you're mine, right?" he said, "no one else's?"

you nodded, "of course, landy. i'm yours!" your voice was a little higher, sweeter for him. and it made something curl in his gut. you were so innocent, sweet in a way.

"that's what i like to hear, baby. you're such a good girl for me. letting me have a taste of you as often as i can. that's why i have to make sure you don't go running off. you're one in a million and i can't take a chance like that. losing something to sweet. it would be criminal."

his voice was tinged with possessiveness. and when he sank into you and started with a quick pace, you yelped and clung onto him tightly. your back arched a little at the feeling of his cock inside of your slick pussy. even though you were soaked between your legs, the intrusion was still a lot for you.

"you are so pretty on my cock. this is where you belong. letting me fuck you until you get your fill. you're a greedy little thing, aren't you? i'm pretty sure i could throw you to the mclaren team and it wouldn't be enough for you. put you in a little bikini and a sign in your ass saying that you're free use. first come, first serve. and let them all have their way with you." his pace quickened as his cock felt like it was going to bruise your insides.

you whimpered and arched your back. your hands found the pillow under your head as he fucked you heavily. he panted heavily, paired with your loud moans. you were always so loud, lando one time had to gag you with your panties when he fucked you in his office. in fairness, maybe he could slow down the pace. but where was the fun in that?

lando continued, he was a man on a mission. determined in a way that made heat rise in his gut. you looked so good on your back, under him. the steady rise and fall of your chest. your sweet moans and heavy pants. how you clung to the pillow with your pretty nails. lando made your lifestyle possible, the best you could do was reward him with your pussy. a thank you for all the hard work he does.

"please, ah!" you whimpered as you arched your back a little more. you felt the heat in your gut. your cunt felt like a dream around his cock. your toes curled from the sensation. "please, please, ah! lando!"

"so pretty." he said as he continued to thrust into you. his pace was aggressive, almost bruising. he watched you squirm a little as your noises got louder and tighter.

"i'm cumming!" you whined as you felt climax crash over you. you tensed up for a moment, which made lando see stars, before you relaxed with a heavy exhale.

"fuck." he panted as he continued to ram into you. the sounds of your fucking filled the room paired with your soft, post-orgasmic moans. he watched you kick out your legs a little. all the fight left your body. he finished inside of you soon after with a loud groan, his cock shoved as deep as it could go.

he knew it was a risky game with unprotected sex. but, just like everything else. lando would take care of it if anything went wrong. he admired your blissed out features. in your own little dumb world as the after shocks of pleasure coursed through you.

"perfect." hes aid softly before he pulled out.

you laid out next to him on the bed as you tried to catch your breath. lando took you gently by the chain you wore, the necklace he bought you. and you laid up next to him. curled up at his side.

lando rubbed the side of your head lovingly as he chuckled a little bit. "this is how i like you, sweetheart. all curled up next to me." he got your leg over his thigh and held it as he kissed at your face.

maybe next time he'll take some photos of his precious girl in nothing, but your little necklace. maybe sharing those around the paddock will keep those men away from you. <3

[dolcettamagica]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐚

gangleader!sukuna x reader, modern au

tags: daddy kink, dirty talk, blowjob, sukuna speaks italian, petnames in italien translations: piccola - little one/baby principessa – princess che brava – (what a) good girl sei carina, lo sai? – you're cute, you know? ti piace, piccola? – you like it, little one? notes: minors dni wc: 3.6k

Life was tough. At least your life was.

Living alone in this day and age was expensive and to pay your student loans was almost impossible. Yes, you could go the easy route and just sell your body or some pictures but that really wasn’t your style. You weren’t going to turn your body into a product. So, when a man called Toji came up to you, asking how much you were worth for the night, you rejected him and asked if you could do something else that would earn you just as much money. The handsome man simply smirked before your criminal life started. Ever since then your job was to “exchange fake money with real money”. Money laundering.

And you did just that. Asking your friends to lend you money and giving them back fake money, returning products you bought with the fake money, asking people if they could change one bill for another. It worked. The last few months worked without any problems at all. This month however was an absolute nightmare. Not only did Toji give you way more money than usual, you were in the middle of exam season. You were running behind and Toji warned you that his boss, Sukuna, was not pleased with your current status. Well, it’s not like you could do anything about it anyway.

As the heavy front door creaked open, a wave of exhaustion washed over you, burdened with the weight of deadlines, exams and Toji’s constant warnings. Your footsteps echoed in the dimly lit hallway, each one a testament to the fatigue that settled deep within your bones. With heavy shoulders and a weary sigh, you dragged yourself through the threshold of your home, longing for the solace of your own space. The weight of your backpack seemed to increase with every step, a physical manifestation of the mental strain you had endured throughout the day. As you entered your room, the soft glow of your desk lamp provided a faint comfort, but even its warmth couldn't dispel the overwhelming sense of stress that enveloped you. Toji kept sending you messages, telling you to hurry up and wash the money. Another sigh fell from your lips as you let your backpack and jacket fall to the ground. The moment you turned around you started to scream – a stranger was sitting on your bed.

Sukuna, the embodiment of wrath and power, sat on the edge of the bed, his presence casting a palpable aura of danger in the room. Clad in a white shirt and black pants that hugged his form with menacing elegance, his usually composed demeanor was shattered by a seething anger that simmered just beneath the surface. The fabric strained against his muscles as if unable to contain the sheer force of his rage. With a clenched jaw and eyes ablaze with fury, he exuded an aura of dominance that commanded attention. His fingers curled into fists, nails digging into his palms as he fought to contain the tempest within him. Every breath he took seemed to echo with the promise of destruction, a silent warning to those who dared to cross him. Despite the veneer of sophistication his attire provided, there was no mistaking the primal wrath that pulsed through his veins, ready to unleash chaos upon any who dared provoke him.

“Who the hell are you?!”

“Ain’t no way you’re talking to your leader like this, stupida.”

Realization hit instantly. This was what Toji was warning you from the whole time. It was Sukuna – the gang leader. You heard a lot of terrifying things about him. The name of Sukuna Ryomen struck terror into the hearts of all who dared to utter it. A gang leader with a penchant for unspeakable cruelty, his reign of terror was marked by a litany of horrifying deeds that stained the streets with blood and despair. From the depths of his depravity, tales whispered of Sukuna's penchant for gruesome displays of power — from the grisly dismemberment of rivals left as warnings, their mutilated remains strewn across the city like macabre ornaments, to the innocent lives snuffed out in acts of ruthless vengeance. His depraved appetite for control knew no bounds, his twisted machinations orchestrating a symphony of fear that echoed through the alleys and corridors of the urban labyrinth he ruled with an iron fist. Behind the facade of opulence and influence, Sukuna's true legacy lay in the shattered lives and haunted souls that bore witness to his reign of terror, forever scarred by the horrifying specter of his atrocities.

It was the first time that you actually saw him and it was the first time that you instantly got on your knees for a man. You knew you had to show your utmost respect to this man. “I am so sorry. I–I didn’t know. Please forgive me, Sukuna.”

A grin graced his face as he saw you submit to him so quickly. He loved that fear struck anyone who laid eyes upon him. On top of that: You were a beauty. However he could not just look over your lack of achievements. At first he was impressed by your work. You managed to wash all the money and not have a single cop suspicious of you, you were smart and didn’t tell a living soul about your connection to Sukuna’s gang. So, he decided to give you some more money, he was sure that you were able to handle it. You weren’t and you took none of Toji’s – his right hand – warnings seriously.

“You look good begging on your knees, piccola. You would have made way more money on the streets, you know?”, he snickered, Toji told him about your decision to never sell yourself. Sukuna respected that as long as you still somehow benefited him. “Toji warned you, didn’t he? You’re behind. Why are you fucking up my business, y/n?”

The flicker of a lighter cast an eerie glow upon his features, accentuating the cold calculation that lurked behind his piercing gaze. With practiced nonchalance, he retrieved a cigarette from its pack, his fingers deftly manipulating the slender cylinder with an air of arrogance. Ignoring the palpable tension that hung in the air like a shroud, he brought the flame to the tip of the cigarette, a small ember igniting amidst the darkness. The sharp inhale of smoke filled the room, intertwining with your fear, a sinister dance that mirrored the power dynamics at play. In that moment, as the tendrils of smoke curled around him like malevolent serpents, Sukuna asserted his dominance with a single, calculated gesture, cementing his control over both the room and its trembling inhabitant.

“I–It’s just exam season…and I was given more than usual…I am really, from the bottom of my heart, sorry for everything.” You were frozen in the oppressive atmosphere of Sukuna's presence, your heart hammering in your chest like a caged bird desperate for escape. As he lit up a cigarette with an effortless display of power, you couldn't suppress the shiver that ran down your spine, your nerves alight with a cocktail of fear and anticipation. Your breath caught in your throat, caught between the instinct to flee and the inexplicable pull of his dominating presence. Despite the terror that coiled in the pit of your stomach, there was an undeniable undercurrent of arousal that stirred within you, a primal response to the sheer force of his authority. The way he commanded the room with effortless control sent a shiver of excitement coursing through your veins, igniting a fire of desire that burned beneath the surface of fear. In the face of his overwhelming dominance, you found yourself teetering on the edge of submission, your body betraying you with each racing heartbeat as you struggled to navigate the complex interplay of fear and desire that pulsed between you two.

Sukuna's gaze, sharp as a blade, pierced through your facade of fear with unnerving precision. In the flickering light of the room, his eyes seemed to strip away your defenses, laying bare the tangled web of emotions that churned within you. He could sense the trembling of your limbs, the rapid rise and fall of your chest betraying the fear that gripped you. But beneath that fear, there simmered something else — a raw, primal desire that pulsed with a rhythm all its own. With a predatory grin, Sukuna leaned in closer to your kneeling form, his voice a low, husky murmur that seemed to caress the very air around. "I can see right through you, piccola," he murmured, his words laden with a dangerous allure that sent a thrill coursing through your veins. "You can't hide that hunger from me." And in that moment, as the tension crackled between you like electricity, you realized that you were completely at his mercy, your desires laid bare for him to see.

As Sukuna's penetrating gaze lingered on you, you felt a flush of embarrassment spread across your cheeks like wildfire. Caught in the crosshairs of his scrutiny, you wished you could disappear into the shadows, away from the intensity of his knowing stare. The revelation of your hidden desire left you feeling exposed, vulnerable in a way you had never experienced before. Each beat of your heart seemed to echo the rhythm of your mortification, the weight of his gaze bearing down on you like a heavy burden. Unable to meet his eyes, you lowered your gaze to the ground, willing yourself to shrink away from the searing intensity of his presence. In that moment, you felt small and insignificant, your embarrassment a stark reminder of your own vulnerability in the face of his commanding dominance “Excuse me…?”

Sukuna leaned back again, a smug grin on his face “Come closer, principessa, kneel right in front of me.”

Every word was your command. Slowly you got closer. Sukuna lounged on the edge of the bed with an air of undeniable authority, his legs spread wide in a display of dominance that seemed to fill the room. Clad in sleek black pants, he exuded an aura of raw masculinity that was impossible to ignore. Before him, you knelt with a mixture of trepidation and submission, your eyes downcast as you awaited his next command. The tension between you crackled in the air like electricity, the space between you charged with unspoken desires and untamed passions. The balance of power shifted palpably, with Sukuna reigning supreme over his willing captive, your fates intertwined in the complex dance of dominance and submission.

With a gesture both possessive and tender, Sukuna's hand descended upon your head, his touch gentle yet commanding as he stroked your hair like a prized possession. His fingers traced the curve of your skull with an almost possessive reverence, eliciting a shiver of submission that coursed through your veins. In the silent exchange between you each caress was a silent affirmation of his dominance. With a soft, whispered command, he guided your head to rest upon his thigh, the weight of your submission a tangible presence that settled between. In this intimate tableau, you surrendered yourself completely to his will, your breath mingling with the fabric of his pants as you lay vulnerable and exposed before him, a willing captive to his every whim.

“Sei carina, lo sai? Look up at me with those big innocent eyes. Wanna seduce me, piccola?” As Sukuna's hand firmly grasped your head, a jolt of arousal surged through you, your pulse quickening with an intensity that matched the grip of his fingers. The sensation of his touch, commanding yet possessive, sent a thrill through, igniting a fire of desire that burned hotter with each passing moment. Caught in the vice-like grip of his hand, you felt a surge of excitement welling up within you, your breath hitching in your throat as you succumbed to the intoxicating power of his dominance. The boundaries between fear and desire blurred into nothingness, your body responding instinctively to his commanding presence with a hunger that you could scarcely contain.

“D–Did you just call me cute?”

“Is that all you have to say about it?”, With a deft motion, Sukuna's thumb traced the line of your cheek, his touch both possessive and tender as he caressed your skin with a commanding intimacy. As his thumb lingered at the corner of your lips, a surge of anticipation rippled through you, your breath catching in your throat at the tantalizing prospect of what was to come. With a boldness born of desire, you parted your lips ever so slightly, inviting him to delve deeper into the depths of your surrender. Without hesitation, Sukuna's thumb slipped past your lips, his touch igniting a symphony of sensations that danced upon your tongue. The taste of him was intoxicating, a heady blend of power and desire that left you dizzy with need. You surrendered yourself completely to his touch, you felt a primal connection forming between you, binding you together in a web of desire that defied all logic and reason. And as you savored the taste of him upon your lips, you knew that you belonged to him utterly and completely, your surrender a testament to the irresistible pull of his dominance.

With an air of unwavering confidence, Sukuna basked in your submission, relishing in the power he wielded over you. His gaze, smoldering with desire and dominance, held you captive, each glance a silent command that you willingly obeyed. As he felt you yield to his touch, a predatory smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, his satisfaction evident in the way he savored your surrender. With a voice that dripped with authority, he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he posed the question that hung between you like a tantalizing promise. “Che brava. Wanna make me feel good, piccola? Wanna taste something else?” he murmured, his words laced with a potent blend of desire and challenge.

With a silent nod, you affirmed your desire to delve deeper into the intoxicating dance of submission and dominance that bound you to Sukuna. Your breath hitched in anticipation as you watched him lean back with a self-assured grace, his movements deliberate as he reached for the buckle of his pants. The sound of leather against metal echoed in the hushed room, each click and slide a symphony of anticipation. With each movement, the air seemed to crackle with an electrifying tension, the promise of what was to come hanging heavy between you like a veil of desire. As he freed himself from the confines of his pants, a thrill of excitement surged through you. As you watched him bare himself before you, you knew that there was no turning back — you were his, body and soul, bound to him in a fiery embrace of passion and submission.

He was big. Bigger than you were used to. It was veiny, long, thick and circumcised. “Ti piace, piccola?” Him speaking Italian turned you on even more. It suited him – his aura, his appearance, his dominance.

With a mixture of trepidation and eagerness, you lowered yourself before Sukuna, your heart pounding in your chest with a heady mixture of anticipation and desire. As you met his gaze, you found yourself ensnared by the raw intensity of his eyes, their smoldering depths fueling the flames of your arousal. With trembling hands, you traced the contours of his thighs, your touch a silent prayer for permission as you inched closer to your purpose. And when you felt the heat of him against your lips, a thrill surged through you, your mouth watering with a hunger that mirrored the primal need that pulsed within your veins.

“Brava piccola.” With a commanding yet tender touch, Sukuna threaded his fingers through your hair, guiding your movements with a firm guidance that left you breathless with desire. As you wrapped your lips around his cock, you savored the taste of him upon your tongue. With each eager suck and swirl of your tongue, you sought to please him, your own pleasure intertwined with the intoxicating thrill of his approval. 

As the heat of passion consumed you, Sukuna's dominance surged to the forefront, his grip on your hair tightening with a commanding force as he pushed your head down onto him with an urgency that bordered on ferocity. He started fucking your face, with each rough thrust, he plunged deeper into the depths of your mouth, his movements guided by an insatiable hunger. The air was thick with the heady scent of your shared arousal, the sound of your ragged breaths mingling with the wet, slick sounds of his cock going deep into your throat. In the depths of your submission your senses were overwhelmed by the dizzying whirlwind of pleasure and pain.

“Hmm…fuck, you feel perfect, piccola. Was made to suck my cock. Look at you, taking it in so good.”

With each forceful thrust, Sukuna primal desire surged forth, his movements a testament to the raw intensity of his need. As he plunged deeper into your mouth, you felt yourself teetering on the edge of oblivion, your senses drowning in the overwhelming tide of sensation. The taste of him upon your tongue was intoxicating, a heady blend of power and passion that left you trembling with desire. Suddenly he pulled you off his cock, leaving you out of breath, your cheeks soaked with your tears.

You lowered your head, licking and sucking his balls as you started to jerk him off simultaneously. As you lavished attention upon him, your mouth and hands working in tandem to pleasure him, he unleashed a torrent of dirty whispers that sent shivers cascading down your spine.

“My good little girl.”

“You’ll make daddy cum, piccola.”

“Fuck, makes me want to make you mine, principessa.”

His voice, low and husky with desire, filled the air with a symphony of erotic promises, each word a tantalizing invitation to delve deeper into the depths of the shared ecstasy. Your own desire surged to dizzying heights, your arousal palpable in the slick heat that pooled between your thighs.

As the crescendo of pleasure reached its peak, Sukuna's primal instincts surged forth, his release imminent and inevitable. With a guttural groan of satisfaction, he surrendered himself to the relentless tide of ecstasy, his body tensing with the force of his climax. In a torrent of raw passion, he came, his hot seed spilling forth, coating your face with its warmth. You gasped in surprise and ecstasy as you felt him release, your skin bathed in the sticky warmth of his essence. And as you looked up at him with eyes glazed with desire, you knew that in that moment, you had become a vessel for his pleasure, your own desires subservient to the intoxicating power of his dominance.

As Sukuna beheld the aftermath of his release, a smug grin spread across his lips, his satisfaction evident in the arrogant tilt of his chin. With a sense of ownership that bordered on arrogance, he surveyed you before him, your face adorned with the evidence of his dominance. His gaze lingered on the trails of his cum that glistened upon your skin, a testament to the primal power he wielded over you. With a low chuckle that reverberated through the room, he voiced his approval, relishing in the sight of his essence decorating your face like a badge of honor.

“Suits you, piccola. You look pretty with my cum all over your slutty face. Should take a picture as blackmail material.” For Sukuna, there was no greater pleasure than seeing his cum adorning your face, a physical manifestation of his power and control over you. He gazed upon you with a possessive gleam in his eyes, he knew that he had claimed you completely, body and soul, in a fiery embrace of dominance and submission.

With a swift and fluid motion, Sukuna straightened himself, the clink of his belt buckle punctuating the air as he secured it with a confident flick of his wrist. His movements were calculated and precise, every gesture a testament to the unwavering confidence that defined his persona. As he stood before you, your gaze lingered on him, your breath catching in your throat at the sight of his commanding presence. With a final glance, he bestowed upon you a smug smirk, a silent acknowledgment of the power he held over you.

“Would love to fuck your sweet lil’ pussy right now but I still have some business to attend to, piccola. By the way, you have two more weeks for that money. Next time around it won’t end this way.”

Without another word, Sukuna turned on his heel and made his way toward the door, his steps echoing in the quiet room with a sense of finality. His departure left a palpable void in his wake, a reminder of the fleeting nature of their passionate encounter. And as he disappeared into the shadows, you left alone with your thoughts, your body still humming with the remnants of the pleasure you gave him. You knew that you would forever be under his spell, your desires forever entwined with his in a web of lust and submission. Though you did wish that he would have did something to you.

Just when you decided to play with yourself you heard your phone ring – a message from an unknown number.

Ciao piccola, wait for daddy. I’ll be back in two hours. I want your pussy to be soaking wet.

[6esiree]

Getting Dared to Call Them Daddy

Summary: You get dared to call Alastor, Lucifer, and Husk daddy.

Warnings: Swearing, slightly NSFW (but it’s mostly suggestive?) A little bit of rubbing on Lucifer’s part. MINORS DO NOT READ!!!

Alastor:

You and Alastor weren’t exactly acquainted with each other. You found it hard to talk to him, the way he always smiled making him incredibly hard to read. That’s why you never bothered him—well, until now, because Angel Dust had dared you to do the unthinkable. “Call him daddy,” he whispered, watching as the expression on your face contorted into one of horror, “I dare ya to call the Radio Demon daddy.”

You couldn’t back out, not when you had told Angel that you weren’t a pussy upon agreeing to play Truth or Dare. And fuck, you weren’t! This is what you said to yourself as you walked over to the bar, watching how Alastor nursed a drink. Fortunately, Husk was on break, so whatever happened next would stay between you, him, and Angel, who watched in anticipation from the parlor with a shit-eating grin.

“Hi,” You said, tentatively stepping behind the bar to help yourself to some brandy.

Alastor hummed, acknowledging your presence as he set down his glass, which was empty. You observed the way he looked at you, his eyes half-lidded and the smile he always wore on his face more relaxed.

He proceeded to tap on the empty glass with his claws, silently asking you to pour him another drink. You did just that, feeling yourself become less nervous as you realized he was drunk. Fuck, it was now or never, you thought.

“There you go, daddy,” You said, making sure to set the glass down at the last part.

Alastor’s hand froze on the counter, his claws barely grazing the drink in front of him. You continued serving yourself your own drink as if nothing had happened, which only served to further confuse the poor man.

“What was that, darling?” Alastor asked, the usual static behind his voice suddenly absent.

You set the bottle of brandy down and picked up your glass, quirking a brow at him as your lips settled on the rim. You tried not to wince when the liquid traveled steadily down your throat. God, brandy was gross.

“What was what?” You asked, hoping he didn’t hear the way your heart-rate picked up.

“You said something as you gave me my drink,” Alastor said, his ears twitching.

“‘There you go, your brandy?’” You supposedly repeated, innocently blinking at him.

Alastor was drunk, he knew that, but he swore he heard you utter something else. However, considering that he was unaware of your dare and that you had never bothered him in the past, he had no choice but to believe you.

“My, I am hearing…strange things,” Alastor shook his head, picking up his drink as you stepped back from the bar, “My apologies, darling.”

“Don’t worry about it,” You said, smiling at him tenderly before turning away to shoot Angel a threatening look, who was struggling to stifle his laughter.

Alastor remained in his seat at the bar, his face forward but his eyes following you until you left his line of sight. It was at that moment that he decided that this would be his last drink, the way his face flushed and his pants tightened as the seemingly false memory of you calling him daddy circulated his mind solidifying his decision.

Lucifer:

The day Lucifer visited the hotel, you were immediately captivated by him. Just like his daughter, he did not live up to his hellish title; it’s no wonder Lilith relinquished her halo, his way of being triumphing the looming threat of eternal damnation. You would have done the same, you admitted to Angel Dust during a game of Truth or Dare, never anticipating that he would weaponize this information.

“Go and call the big boss of Hell daddy,” Angel said, a wicked smile on his face. “I dare ya.”

You stared at Lucifer from the parlor, observing the way his back slightly arched as he leaned over the bar. Fuck, this was not going to be easy, and Angel knew that. The last thing you wanted to do was give him the satisfaction of winning the game, though. So without further thought, you stood up and made your way to him, flipping off Angel as he chuckled behind you.

Lucifer straightened his back upon hearing someone approaching, the grip on his glass tightening when you graced his eyes. He had only interacted with you a few times, so naturally, he was nervous. Plus, you decided to sit right beside him when nobody else was at the bar. It was a strange choice that you had accidentally made, but you couldn’t scoot over without causing any offense.

“I—uh—hello?” Lucifer said, coughing in a poor attempt to cover his stuttering.

“Mind if I join you?” You asked, leaning over the counter to pour yourself a drink, Husk absent due to the late hours.

You almost sighed in disappointment as you realized Lucifer’s choice of liquor was whiskey, but it was too late to back out. You had already popped open the bottle, observing how the amber liquid steadily collected in your glass as you poured yourself a drink. Throughout all of this, you could feel Lucifer’s stare on you, his mouth slightly agape while he seemingly debated his response.

“No! No—of course not,” Lucifer quickly said when you sat back down, adding the next part with a nervous laugh, “I must have looked pitiful for you to come over here, huh?“

You held your drink against your chest, shaking your head at his question.

“Oh my goodness, no!” You said, placing a hand on his shoulder in reassurance, but it was only for a split second, “Not at all.”

Apparently, you had taken Lucifer by surprise, the way he knocked down his drink a testament of that. His face flushed in embarrassment as you whined at the sensation of whiskey dripping down onto your lap. The worst part is that you looked like you had pissed yourself, the amber liquid coating your crotch and running down your thighs. Ah, fuck, but you couldn’t get mad at him.

“Fuck! I’m so, so sorry!” Lucifer yelped, getting up from his seat and jumping over the bar to get a rag.

The man was in a state of panic, so much so that he failed to realize what he did next. Instead of handing over the rag to you, Lucifer crouched down and tried to dry the whiskey off of your lower half, practically massaging you through the denim of your shorts. You could only stare at him in shock, trying to keep your legs shut as he dragged the rough material back and forth against your crotch.

It wasn’t until halfway into the act that Lucifer became aware of the compromising situation he had inadvertently designed. You looked down at him through your lashes as his hand stilled, watching how his eyes stared blankly through your stomach. He probably felt like an idiot, and while you didn’t want to further embarrass him, you decided to take advantage of his flustered state.

You slightly parted your legs, immediately snapping Lucifer out of his trance. Before he could stutter out an apology, you reached down and grabbed ahold of his jaw, forcing him to make eye contact with you. He blinked, an unreadable expression on his face as your hand slithered down the column of his throat, feeling the way it bobbed underneath your palm in anticipation.

Of course, you remembered a certain spider was watching from the parlor, so you didn’t do anything inappropriate. In fact, all you did was hook your fingers under Lucifer’s bowtie, encouraging him to stand up until he was at level with your face. You savored the way his ragged breaths fanned against your lips, but only for a bit. Smiling, you relinquished your grip on him.

“I’ll forgive you,” You said, watching how relief washed over Lucifer’s features, “So long as you let me call you daddy.”

“Oh, fuck me,” Lucifer said without further thought.

You blinked, definitely not expecting such a response—but hey, you weren’t complaining. When Angel howled in the background, tossing his head back with a hand over his heart, Lucifer jumped back and began to profusely apologize, unable to believe how little self-restraint he had. You tried to assure him that everything was alright, but the way he practically begged you to fuck him haunted him as he laid in bed later that night, reliving the scene in his dreams, albeit a more explicit version.

Husk:

Husk hardly ever spoke to you, but he indulged in your presence nonetheless. You were the least intrusive individual he had ever met, a trait which was incredibly lacking among Hell’s population. That is why on the rare occasions you got drunk together, he revealed something about himself, chuckling as you listened in awe. His favorite thing to do was play cards with you, though, especially as you had a taste for the typical Vegas experience before your death.

You and Husk weren’t close, however, just closer than most of the residents were with him. Still, Angel Dust suspected the old man harbored a soft spot for you, observing the way his pupils dilated whenever his eyes settled on you. So like a true menace, he decided to utilize the worst tactic possible to confirm his suspicions: a game of Truth or Dare.

“I dare ya to call ol’ whiskers daddy,” Angel said, his gold tooth glistening under the dim light.

You felt your heart plummet into your stomach, the very thought of calling Husk something…suggestive frightening you to the core. You had spent a long time trying to build whatever you two had, so was something as silly as a dare worth risking destroying that?

When Angel said that he knew you’d pussy out upon noticing your reaction, all your worries immediately vanished; you weren’t going to lose to that fucker, not when he looked so smug. Unfortunately, the need to prove him wrong was only enough fuel to get you to the bar.

“Somethin’ the matter?” Husk asked as you took a seat.

Your body language gave you away, but even if you tried to hide how nervous you were, Husk had a knack for reading people. Plus, he knew you enough to know that something was up with you.

“Ah, no, just came over here for a drink,” You said, nervously wringing your hands on your lap.

“What d’ya want?” Husk asked, unconvinced but also not going to push you on the topic, “Somethin’ sweet?”

“You know me so well,” You said, offering him a smile.

“‘Course I do,” Husk chuckled, whipping up a cocktail for you and sliding it across the counter in no time. “Here ya go, doll.”

You accepted the drink, bringing the glass to your awaiting lips, closing your eyes and sighing in content as the salt on the rim mixed with the fruity concoction. Husk never failed to make something as putrid as alcohol taste good, and he knew that, a pleased look on his face as he absorbed your reaction.

When you opened your eyes, you swore he had a look of adoration in his face, but perhaps that was just you. Anyway, as you allowed the alcohol to do its job, you thought about clever ways to call Husk daddy, albeit in vain. Fuck it, you were just going to have to say it, and if he reacted poorly, you could just blame Angel.

“Is it to ya likin’?” Husk asked, settling a hand on his hip as you finished your drink.

You looked up at Husk, face flushed as the alcohol warmed you up…that and the fact that you were about to say something that would most likely shock him. He quirked an eyebrow at you, anticipating your response; but instead, you stuck out your tongue, lapping at the few grains of salt that had collected on your bottom lip. When his eyes dilated at the seductive action, you decided now was the time to strike.

“Sorry, it was just so good,” You said, perching your chin on your palm as you added the next part, “Thanks, daddy.”

Husk had opened his mouth to say ‘You’re welcome,’ but when you called him daddy, he was only able to muster a squeak. You never thought that an old man with a rich baritone voice was capable of producing such an adorable sound, but here you were, biting your lip as you tried not to react. Husk was already pissed, though, especially as Angel laughed unapologetically from the parlor. But at least you would make up for it soon, the sight of you writhing underneath him from overstimulation compensation enough.

[leejenowrld]

in your eyes — part 2 

word count — 43k words

genre — angst, smut, fluff 

part 1 — part 2

synopsis —  campus life was just a series of fleeting connections until he found you. now, it’s you who he can’t forget, it’s you he wants to be known for, it’s you he wants to belong to.

chapter warnings — explicit content, swearing, mature language, sexual jokes, heated smut, unprotected sex, mutual masturbation, voyeurism (yn gets off watching a video of jeno’s cock yeehaw), oral sex, intense emotional scenes, ‘daddy’ name calling smut scene, hard dom jeno, choking, jeno fucks reader in headlock, mirror smut, jeno pussy eater, reader sits on jeno’s face, degradation, slapping, spitting, exhibitionism, orgasm control/denial, name-calling, dirty talk, intense and graphic descriptions of sexual activity, emotional vulnerability, hard angst in this one, tear jerker moments, really emotional scenes, heated confrontations, heated fights, a lot of secrets and exposed, heavy reliance on drugs and alcohol to cope, lots of smoking, drinking, getting high, so many college parties, so many band shows, jeno and arin revelations, confused and misleading jeno, jeno and arin moments, reader, jeno and arin moments, girl boss yn, girl moments🫶, possessive sexy jeno, jealous jeno, full penetrative sex, soft soft smut, deep intimacy and emotional connection, size kink, with emphasis on fit and fullness, praising and reassurance during sex, consensual and tender dynamic, heightened emotional depth, including tears and deep affection, slow pace with meaningful, deliberate thrusts, nudity in a semi-public, playful and loving interactions with a focus on mutual satisfaction, declarations of love and monogamy, soft and passionate kissing, emotional climax with affirmations of love and fidelity

author note — it’s here 🥹🥹 thank you for all your love and support, this is the final part and it’s making me so emotional. i hope you all enjoy <3 get your tissues ready lol. please interact with this part and lmk what you thought!! means so much more to me than you’d know mwah enjoy 💋

in your eyes masterlist

──────────────────────────────

Silence fills the room.

You let out a hollow laugh, your body tensing as you prepare to stand up and walk away. However, Jeno's soft, pleading eyes root you to the spot. “What is this, Jeno?” you ask, your voice unintentionally gentle, betraying the firmness you had intended.

Jeno reaches out, attempting to pull you back onto his lap, but you shake your head firmly, maintaining your distance. He lets out a weary sigh, his expression a mix of frustration and sadness. “Y/N, just hear me out, please,” he pleads.

“You have two minutes,” you respond, your tone flat, as you glance at the phone, the silence hanging heavily between you.

He reaches out, his fingers brushing yours as he grabs the phone from the table, an electric charge of contact that sends a shiver up your spine. He turns off the phone decisively, silencing it before Arin’s call can go to voicemail. You watch, puzzled and slightly overwhelmed, as he places the phone facedown on the table, ensuring that nothing distracts him from this moment with you.

Arin’s relentless calls continue, the phone vibrating insistently on the tabletop, but Jeno doesn’t give it another glance. His eyes, dark and intense, are locked on yours, conveying a seriousness that commands your attention.

“Those photos and videos shouldn’t be there, and I’m sorry I didn’t delete them. Honestly, I had a lot of photos and videos like that, with Arin, on my phone. I thought I had deleted them all, but obviously not. Some might still be there and I know how careless that is, I’m really sorry.” He says with a mix of regret and sincerity, his voice carrying a hint of apology and concern for your feelings. He's straightforward yet gentle, acknowledging the mistake and taking responsibility for it.

You take a deep breath, your gaze fixed on Jeno. His eyes reflect a sincerity that tugs at your heartstrings, warming the cold edges of your doubt. As he waits patiently for your response, the quiet empathy in his expression helps steady the whirl of emotions inside you.

“You really didn’t mean to keep them?” you ask quietly, needing just that bit of reassurance. 

“No, not at all,” he replies quickly, his voice firm. 

Feeling the warmth of his hand encasing yours, the sincerity in his voice helps tilt the balance of your emotions towards trust. You nod slowly, trying to process his words. It's not anger or disappointment that fills you, but a mix of confusion and uncertainty. You're unsure how to react, torn between wanting to believe him and feeling a pang of doubt nagging at the back of your mind.

“Why do you still have her number saved?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, but it’s hard when a storm of emotions is raging inside you.

Jeno pauses, looking thoughtful, as if he’s sorting through the right words. “When we—when we split up, a lot of things went wrong. It wasn’t just messy, it was painful, and I blocked her number to help myself move past it. That was over a year ago, and it took a while, but I’ve been trying to get over it,” he explains, his tone reflecting a mix of regret and contemplation.

“And when exactly did this conversation happen?” your voice shakes slightly, the weight of his words settling in.

“It was about six months ago,” he replies, the timeline aligning just before the two of you had started seeing each other more seriously, you sigh in relief. 

“So, you’re okay with her now?” you probe gently, needing to hear him say it.

He shifts slightly, making eye contact with you as he continues. “A few months back, she reached out. She apologized, and it seemed heartfelt. We had a long conversation, and it helped me see things from a different perspective. I’ve always found it hard to maintain bad blood with anyone, even if things ended badly. I’m a people pleaser. So, I forgave her,” he adds, a softness in his voice that tells you this isn’t just about moving on but about healing.

“Oh.” You mumble, a deep frown plastered on your face. "She keeps on calling, Jeno," your voice comes out softer, tinged with a hint of fear as the words hover between you, carrying more weight than intended. Your eyes shift to his phone on the bedside table, its screen lighting up insistently with each ring, the vibrations echoing the tension in the room.

He sighs, a deep sound filled with a mix of frustration and resignation. As he leans forward to grab his phone, which continues its insistent ringing on the bedside table, you move faster. Your hand snatches it up before he can touch it, pressing the answer button with a sharp jab.

“Hi,” you say, your voice flat, giving nothing away.

“Who is this?” the voice on the other end is light, confused, but undeniably sweet.

“Me,” you reply tersely, as if that should explain everything. There’s a pause—a moment of silence where the simplicity of your answer hangs in the air.

“Is Jeno there?” The voice on the other end is light, tinged with a hopeful note that makes it harder to stay indifferent.

You hesitate, the simple inquiry echoing oddly in your chest. “Yeah,” you admit reluctantly.

“Could you tell him Arin wants to speak to him?” Her voice is sweet, almost disarmingly so, and her words are polite, her request reasonable.

You turn to Jeno, relaying the message with a stiffness in your voice, “Arin wants to talk to you.” You watch his expression for any sign of what he’s thinking, but he remains inscrutable.

He doesn’t respond verbally; instead, he simply extends his hand for the phone. The ease of his gesture, the quiet acceptance, it isn’t what you wanted. You had hoped for a denial, a refusal, some affirmation that the past was just that—the past. Yet, here he was, ready to slip back into old conversations as if they were nothing.

Jeno's fingers gently curl around the phone, the action deliberate and calm. The warmth in his gaze as he met yours moments before shifts as he brings the device to his ear. There's a flicker in his eyes, something unreadable before they settle into a determined glint. You watch, almost holding your breath, as the conversation unfolds.

"I'm busy," he states simply, his voice firm, leaving little room for argument.

Your eyebrows lift in surprise. Despite the chaos of emotions swirling inside you, Jeno's blunt dismissal catches you off guard. It's a sharp contrast to the gentle way he usually speaks, and it anchors you back to the moment with a jolt of unexpected approval.

On the other end, there's a pause—a momentary breath of silence that feels charged with tension. "Will you call me later?" Arin's voice filters through, her tone a mix of hope and hesitation.

"Probably not," Jeno replies, his response as clipped as before. The simplicity of his words, the casual dismissal, it adds layers to the scenario unfolding before you.

"But, Jeno, it’s important," Arin insists, her voice pressing for something more, something beyond the brief exchange.

"Ok?" His intonation rises slightly, a question in the guise of a response, signaling he’s not committed to the promise of another conversation. His fingers tighten slightly around the phone, a visible sign of his discomfort or perhaps his resolve.

As you observe him, a mix of feelings courses through you. There’s an unexpected surge of relief that he’s not engaging more than necessary, yet a lingering doubt nibbles at your thoughts, wondering what was so important that Arin still reached out despite his clear resistance.

He ends the call swiftly, the screen going dark as he places the phone back down. His gaze returns to you, searching, perhaps unsure of how much you've interpreted or how deeply the brief exchange might have affected you.

"You handled that... differently than I expected," you venture, your voice a careful blend of curiosity and subtle approval. 

Jeno exhales, a long, deep breath that seems to release some of the tension that had built up. "I didn’t want to drag things out—there’s no point. It's better to keep it short and clear."

His response makes you nod, understanding his approach but still processing the entire interaction. The simplicity of his handling was reassuring, yet the complexity of his past relationship with Arin still hung in the air, an unspoken chapter that was slowly coloring the edges of your own story with him.

"You think she’ll call back?" you ask, a trace of concern threading your words.

He shrugs, his expression a blend of indifference and slight irritation. "Maybe, but it doesn’t change anything. I meant what I said."

His hand finds yours, the warmth familiar and comforting, and in that touch, you find a silent promise—a commitment to face whatever comes, together. "Why don't you want to talk to her anymore?" you ask softly, your curiosity tinged with a need to understand his perspective.

Jeno’s gaze locks with yours, his eyes reflecting a deep seriousness that seems to draw you in. “I’ve gotten closure from what happened with her. I have nothing left to say to her. I'm here with you now, and you deserve my full energy and attention,” he says earnestly, his hand reaching up to gently caress the side of your face, his touch conveying the depth of his commitment. The way he looks at you, so intently, makes it clear that he's fully moved on, though he adds, “I can't speak for her, but I’ve put it all behind me.”

You nod, feeling the sincerity in his touch and his words, but still a bit puzzled. "I don’t get it though, does she call you a lot?"

"A few times, but I always say I’m busy and end the call. You know, a lot of people reach out to me; I don’t pay special attention to her calls. They just blend in with the rest," he explains, his tone dismissive of the significance of her attempts to contact him, emphasizing his focus is entirely on the present and specifically, on you. His hand remains on your face, maintaining a gentle but affirming touch that reassures you of his priorities.

He releases your face gently and reaches for his phone, which lay forgotten on the table beside you. His movements are deliberate, each action punctuated with a silent promise of transparency.

You watch, your heart in your throat, as Jeno unlocks his phone. The screen lights up, casting a soft glow in the dimly lit room. He navigates with familiar ease, a few swipes bringing him back to the gallery. His thumb hovers over the photo of Arin—a brief pause, a final acknowledgment of the past—and then he presses down, selecting the option to delete.

The action is simple yet profound. He doesn’t look away from you as he does it, his eyes holding yours, ensuring you understand the significance of the gesture. “It’s gone,” he says, a finality in his tone. He doesn’t just delete the photo; he also takes a moment to clear it from the recently deleted album, erasing all possible traces of her image.

He lifts your chin gently, guiding your gaze back to his. The warmth of his hands radiates comfort as they cup your face, the rough pads of his thumbs brushing lightly against your cheeks. His eyes search yours, seeking to convey everything his words might have left unsaid.

He pulls you closer, his arms enveloping you in a warm embrace that feels like a safe haven from the storm of emotions brewing inside you. You lean into him, your head resting against his chest, where you can hear the steady beat of his heart—a reassuring rhythm in the midst of your turmoil.

He wraps a blanket around you as he notices the slight tremble in your shoulders, the soft fabric adding another layer of warmth. His lips find your forehead, planting soft kisses that make their way down to your closed eyelids, each touch light but filled with intent, as if trying to kiss away your worries.

You’re enveloped in his warmth, feeling the security of his hold tighten slightly when he feels you shiver, not from the cold, but from the emotional chill the photo has left in its.

“What’s gotten into you?” He asks you softly, you feel his fingers brushing over your eyelids, his touch gentle and comforting, yet there’s an underlying tension in the air. You hum in confusion, not fully registering his question as your mind is preoccupied with thoughts of Arin.

“She’s so beautiful, isn’t she?” you finally voice, the words slipping out almost involuntarily, echoing the turmoil inside you.

“Y/N—” he begins, but you cut him off, your curiosity burning within you.

“What’s happened with you and Arin? Why did you break up?” you press, needing answers to quell the unease in your heart.

“Y/N, it really isn’t relevant anymore—”

“You obviously used to love her at one point. It’s relevant. I’ve heard from many people that you and Arin were serious. Is it wrong if I want to know how you got together and why it ended?” you challenge, your voice firm with determination.

He exhales slowly, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “What do you wanna know?”

“Everything,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with an intensity that demands truth and clarity.

“We were never officially together. She was never my girlfriend. But I loved her. I cared a lot about her and always wanted her around, but I knew there were a lot of problems with us,” he begins, his honesty setting the tone.

“How did you meet her?” you ask, curiosity weaving through your tone.

Jeno’s gaze softens, a reflective smile briefly passing over his lips. “I first met her when we were 16. We’ve known each other for a long time. We grew up in the same neighbourhood, always in and out of each other’s houses. We always found our way to each other.” 

As you listen to Jeno describe Arin, a tight pang clenches in your chest, but curiosity propels you forward. Questions spill from your mouth before you can stop them. “What was she like? How did you fall for her?”

He looks off into the distance, his expression softening as he reminisces. “She was like summer in a person—bright, warm, impossible to ignore,” he begins, his voice soft and reflective. “She had this laugh that could light up a room, and she was always so… alive, you know? Full of energy and love.”

You notice how his face lights up when he talks about her, the warmth in his voice unmistakable as he drifts back to those days. It’s clear from his tone and his faraway look that those memories hold a special place in his heart, even now.

He sighs, shifting slightly as he continues, Jeno’s smile widens a fraction, tinged with a youthful nostalgia. Pausing, he looks at you, ensuring the story is not overwhelming. “And yeah, we were each other’s firsts,” he admits, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone.

"I asked her to be my girlfriend and she said no because she was moving away. That was the first time she ever told me," he sighs. "When she left, it felt like I was losing a part of me I didn’t know could be lost."

Jeno says, his voice tinged with a touch of sadness. "I dealt with it by trying to move on—I had sex with a lot of different girls, kissed others. It was my way of filling the void she left."

“Three years later, by some twist of fate, we ended up at the same college. It was like no time had passed at all, and all those old feelings came rushing back. We reconnected instantly, drawn to each other all over again.”

“But you were never official?” you probe gently, picking up on his earlier thread.

He shakes his head. “When we were 16, we were only together for a summer before she moved away. We were never boyfriend and girlfriend. We were exclusive though, when we were 16 and then in college.” 

“Nayoung mentioned that you guys used to casually fuck, that you were fuck buddies… friends with benefits?” you inquire, needing to understand the dynamics of their past relationship.

"It was more than that," he replies softly, his voice showing a slight frustration with the label. "It wasn't just about casual hookups. When we got back together in college, it was comforting and familiar. We slipped back into each other's lives effortlessly. It was like a habit, almost too easy."

Jeno’s eyes held a vulnerable honesty as he spoke, his fingers absently tracing the back of your hand, seeking a reassuring touch. “You probably think I sound so pathetic, so caught up in someone who I fell in love with when I was 16 and feeling the effects of that even after all this time.”

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of his honesty. It’s difficult to acknowledge that he’s not in the wrong for his emotions; they are a part of his history, part of what has shaped him. “I don’t think you’re an idiot at all,” you assure him gently, meeting his gaze with a supportive smile. “It’s a lot of history, a lot of significant moments. It makes sense.”

He exhales, a sound mixed with relief and appreciation. Jeno’s eyes soften, the gratitude evident as he looks at you. “Thank you,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing against your skin in small, grateful circles. “You’re incredibly understanding, always.”

Silence overtakes the room and the eye contact you hold is intimate, the way he’s looking makes goosebumps run all over your skin and you suddenly feel so shy; his gaze is so heated and intense. You cough, averting your gaze. You feel him smile at your reaction, calling out your name softly as he leans forward to press his lips against your cheeks in a soft kiss.

“You were telling me?” you try to change the subject, wondering how he still manages to make you so shy and flustered.

He chuckles softly, his amusement clear as he appreciates your efforts to steer the conversation away from the deep. “Right, where was I?” Jeno teases gently, his voice low and soothing, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

“You were saying you were more than ‘friends with benefits’” you remind him, finding your voice again despite the strain you feel inside. 

He nods. “When we reunited in college, at the start, yeah, it was very much friends with benefits. She wasn’t ready to commit. But then, I started catching feelings; I fell for her. God knows what she felt; she was never good at communicating or expressing her true feelings. I think she fell for me too,” he admits, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. 

“What happened? Why did it all end?” you ask, your voice carrying a note of finality, needing to know the closure.

“I needed more,” he admits, his voice firm but pained. “I wanted something stable, something real. She was still caught up in having no labels, no commitments. And I...” He sighs deeply, the weight of the memory pressing down on him. “I loved her. I really did. But loving her and always wanting more than she could give... It was draining. I ended it because I couldn’t continue halfway between what we were and what I needed us to be.”

He looks at you, his eyes clear and earnest. “It hurt, but it was the right thing to do. For both of us.”

“Oh?” you mumble, trying to process his candidness.

He hums, a hint of a smile breaking through the solemnity. “Not what you expected?”

You shake your head slowly. “I thought she did something wrong.”

“She wasn’t perfect, don’t get me wrong. I had a hard time getting used to such a negative side of her, especially because when we were younger she was nothing but kind. But when we started seeing each other in college, I noticed that she grew into something else completely, she had a lot of flaws. She was irrational, immature, and refused to communicate. We’d argue, and her way to fix it would be by trying to fuck me or suck my dick. It just infuriated me how childish she could be. She was also so jealous, to the point it was off-putting. She didn’t want to be my girlfriend, but she also got so annoyed if I ever spoke to another girl or did so much as look their way. She’s made a lot of girls feel uncomfortable because of how possessive she can be,” he explains, a mixture of frustration and resignation evident in his words.

“Nayoung mentioned something like that,” you murmur, memories surfacing from past conversations. “She said that she hated Arin because you stopped fucking her to go back to Arin.”

He nods, his expression serious. “Yeah. When I ended things with Arin, I went back to sleeping casually and fucking around, to deal with heartbreak, I guess. She became so jealous; it was ridiculous. At first, I used to fall for it. She’d try to tell me that she wanted me back, tried to convince me that she was serious about her feelings for me, that she wanted us to be together. And I would always go back to her. I was still in love with her at this point, so I’d drop anything and anyone for that chance. But then I realized she was just toying with me. She was never serious about it. She’d only say that because she didn’t want to see me with another girl, even if it was only just for sex. But she’d completely disrespect me,” he admits, his voice carrying a weight of past disappointments.

“She really did break my heart, I feel like a part of me is still broken. It took a long time to get over her.” 

You swallow hard, absorbing the weight of his words. Avoiding his gaze, you gather your courage to ask, “Do you still like her?”

He chuckles softly, surprised by the question. “God no, I’m over it.” You want to sigh in relief, but something in his voice leaves you hesitant. Was he really over it? He answers so quickly you don’t know if you can believe him.

Really?” you probe, needing reassurance.

“I wouldn’t be here, with you, right now if I still liked her. I’m over her, trust me,” he assures you, his tone softening with sincerity.

“Do you still love her?” you blurt out, unable to suppress your curiosity.

He sighs, his tone serious. “Y/N.”

“Jeno,” you press, needing clarity.

“No, I don’t love her anymore. I stopped loving her a long time ago,” he states firmly, his words carrying a sense of finality.

“What if she told you she was ready? That she wanted a relationship?” you inquire, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

He shakes his head firmly. “Nothing she says will ever make me change my mind. I will never feel the way I used to. I don’t trust or love her anymore.”

“Oh, very nice,” you respond bitterly, not quite knowing what to say, you were at a loss for words.

“You sure?” he says, amusement lacing his tone at your understated reaction.

His gaze softens, and he shifts your positions, guiding you until you’re sitting on his lap, your chest pressed against his. His hands settle on the small of your back, pulling you close to his chest, his touch soothing the tension he senses within you. Cupping your face gently in his hands, he brushes his lips against yours, a soft peck that leaves you craving more.

“You don’t need to worry, okay? I would never go back to her,” he assures you, his voice laced with sincerity. “You’re so important to me, you mean so much to me. I cherish you so much. Don’t ever worry about Arin.”

All you can manage is a nod in response, overwhelmed by his words.

“Has she said anything to you? Has she tried to make you feel uncomfortable?” he probes, concern evident in his tone. “I’m only asking because she used to say a lot of rude stuff to girls I used to sleep with and you mean so much more to me than those girls, so I wouldn’t be surprised if Arin knew that and tried to get to you.”

You shake your head, the weight of the situation settling heavily upon you. “She hasn’t said anything to me yet but she always stares at me.” 

He hums softly. “If she ever does say something to you, don’t let her affect you, okay? She likes to do whatever she can to get into someone’s head but you’re stronger than that, right?  Don’t let her make you upset. Just ignore her and tell me if she bothers you, yeah?” he urges, his protective instincts kicking in.

You nod, “What would you do?”

He lets out a dry cough. “Whatever needs to be done. I’d do anything for you without a second thought, and I know you’d do the same for me.” His confidence and self-assurance make you hold back a moan.

You nod. “Of course I would.”

In a heartbeat, he responds, “You’re my priority, you’re my special one. You mean everything to me.”

“You’re so — you’re so cute, but you’re also very corny. Imagine if the guys heard you.” You snort. 

“I have nothing to hide, I’m not —”

But before he can finish, you cut him off with a kiss. The moment your lips meet, the atmosphere shifts, electrifying the air between you. His hands instinctively find their way to your waist, pulling you closer, while your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him impossibly nearer.

The kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more heated, as desire courses through your veins. Your bodies pressed together, heat radiating between you, as if you’re trying to merge into one. Every touch, every caress, sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, igniting a fire that burns hotter with each passing moment.

Breaking away from him, you’re both left breathless, panting heavily as you stare into each other’s eyes. The intensity of the moment hangs between you, thick with desire and longing.

“I cherish you more,” you whisper, the weight of your words hanging in the air, stress evident in your heavy breathing. But even as the words leave your lips, you know that they hold a depth of emotion that goes beyond mere words.

“Good girl,” he whispers in response, his voice husky with affection, as he peppers soft kisses all over your face. You lean into his embrace, revelling in the warmth of his affection and the closeness you share. 

“Why are you so hard?” you giggle, running your fingers teasingly along the bulge in his pants. Leaving hot and heated kisses alongside the curve of his neck. 

“Because there’s a hot girl sitting on my lap and grinding against my cock,” he responds with a smirk, his eyes dark with desire. You feel a surge of satisfaction at his words, knowing you have this effect on him.

“Yeah, but I sit on your lap all the time, it doesn’t get you hard like this,” you tease, your voice low and sultry.

“Yeah, it does,” he huffs, his hands sliding down to grip your hips firmly.

“Not this hard,” you challenge, biting your lip as you continue to rub against his bulge, feeling the growing hardness beneath you. With a swift motion, you reach for his shirt and pull it off, revealing his toned chest.

“Everything you do gets me hard,” he admits, his voice husky with need, his gaze locked with yours in a primal intensity. “I haven’t had sex in a long time.”

Your heart skips a beat at his confession, a rush of desire coursing through you. “Wait — have you not fucked anyone else in the last few months?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

“But the time between the two times we had sex was around 3 months” you ask, a hint of surprise in your voice.

He nods, his expression serious. “Yeah. Just you,” he confirms, his gaze unwavering.”

“Why?” you laugh incredulously, a snort escaping you. “Even I would’ve fucked someone else if I were you. I kept ignoring you and walking the other way after our first time because of how nervous you made me. If I were you, I’d give up and go back to fucking.”

“I don’t want anyone else,” he says simply, his sincerity evident in his eyes.

“Have you fucked anyone else but me since our first time?” he asks you now, curiosity tinged with desire in his voice.

You shake your head, leaning in to leave a soft kiss against his lips. “Just you.”

“You used to have so much sex…” you trail off, feeling a mix of emotions at the thought.

He smiles, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. “It’s okay though. You know I don’t mind. I’ll wait for years if it means the only one I’ll fuck is you.”

“You should’ve told me that you’ve barely gotten laid in the last few months,” you tease, deftly unbuttoning your shirt and letting the fabric fall to the floor, revealing the curve of your body.

His gaze remains fixed on yours, dark with desire.

“Well, let’s make up for lost time, let’s have sex now.” you purr, your voice dripping with heat as you close the distance between you.

A boyish grin spreads across his face, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, your own excitement matching his.

“I don’t have any condoms, baby,” he murmurs huskily as he shifts his body over yours, his hands tracing the waistband of your skirt, eager to explore further.

“Just fuck me,” you breathe, your voice heavy with need, your hands already reaching for the waistband of his trousers, ready to pull them down and lose yourselves in the heat of the moment.

You swear it was so close to happening—the moment was right, the energy was electric. But then Donghyuck had to come barging into his room, asking for his headphones. Jeno groans in frustration, his irritation palpable. “Donghyuck!” he yells, tossing the headphones in his direction with more force than necessary.

──────────────────────────────

Your preparation for the band show feels more special tonight, infused with an unspoken anticipation. You put meticulous care into every detail of your appearance. You want to make a statement, not just on stage but also afterward, Jeno was going to take you somewhere, it was a ‘surprise.’

Nayoung is by your side, curling your hair into perfect waves that frame your face beautifully. The warmth from the curling iron is a stark contrast to the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You carefully apply your makeup, choosing colors that enhance your features—bold, smoky eyes paired with a soft, glowing complexion and rosy lips that promise subtlety yet allure.

As you blend your eyeshadow, Nayoung watches you through the mirror, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “You’re going out with Jeno after the gig?” she probes with a casual tone, but her eyes are too sharp, too curious.

You nod in affirmation, your focus momentarily shifting from your makeup to her reflection in the mirror. “On a date?” she presses further, her tone teasing yet probing.

You pause, brush in hand, and shake your head slightly, “It’s not a date, it’s—”

She interrupts with a playful roll of her eyes. “Yeah yeah, you’re not official yet. You guys should really have the ‘what are we’ talk,” she suggests, her voice laced with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

The suggestion hangs in the air, a subtle push towards a conversation you know is inevitable but aren’t quite ready to initiate. Yet as you turn back to the mirror, applying a final stroke of mascara, you can't help but wonder if tonight is the right time to define what Jeno really means to you.

The outfit for tonight was meticulously picked out and laid neatly on the bed behind you. The choice for tonight is daring, a black off-shoulder top with long sleeves that falls just right, It’s cut low enough to hint at the curves of your breasts, a tease of what lies beneath, paired perfectly with a plaid mini skirt that flares at the hem, playfully showcasing your thighs.

You stand in front of your full-length mirror, nerves racing through you as you slip into the outfit, the fabric clings and contours to your form, complementing your figure in an eye-catching way. The knee high boots you choose add an edge, their chunky heels lending height and attitude, while your chosen jewelry—simple yet elegant—adds a sparkle that catches the light as you move.

Nayoung watches your transformation, her reaction a mix of approval and a hint of pride. “Jeno’s not going to know what hit him,” she says, her voice tinged with excitement. “You look hot—he’ll love it.” Her words are a boost to your confidence as you give yourself one final look in the mirror, feeling ready to take on the night—and maybe, just maybe, ready to take on whatever conversation awaits you with Jeno

As you stand there, ready, you feel a blend of nerves and excitement. “Do you think he’ll find me pretty?” you ask, the innocence in your voice catching you by surprise.

“He always finds you pretty,” Nayoung replies confidently.

You can’t contain the blush that spreads across your cheeks. “I know,” you admit softly, a secret thrill at the acknowledgment.

Nayoung watches you, her expression shifting to one of curiosity. “I’ve never seen you put so much effort into looking this sexy for your shows,” she observes.

You find an excuse, one that doesn’t quite reach your own ears convincingly. “I want to look good for photos, plus a lot of people will be there.”

“But is that all?” Nayoung probes, her voice gentle yet insistent.

“What do you mean?” you deflect, not quite ready to confront the truth.

“It’s nothing bad,” she assures you. “It’s just that you’re very much giving ‘girlfriend who wants to look pretty and dress up for her boyfriend.’ It’s cute seeing you make so much effort because you know he’ll appreciate it and make you feel like the prettiest girl in the world, no matter what you’re wearing. It’s for him, isn’t it? You like dressing up for him.”

The realisation strikes you, and you’re left speechless. You gulp, searching for the right words. “It’s not just that, I—I like dressing up for myself too,” you assert.

She nods, understanding the complexity of your feelings. “Of course, but when you have someone who likes you as much as Jeno likes you, it’s nice to dress up for them, to feel seen and beautiful in their eyes.”

You bite your lip, willing the tears not to fall, the delicate balance of your carefully applied makeup at stake. Your eyes shift downward, catching the glow of your phone as it springs to life with a message from him. Jeno’s face smiles back at you from the lock screen. In the simple act of seeing his name, a realisation crystallises, breaking through the layers of your apprehension.

It’s a truth that has lingered at the edge of your consciousness, a whisper you’ve silenced for fear of the upheaval it might bring. But it’s undeniable now, demanding to be acknowledged with a force that feels as natural as breathing and as terrifying as falling.

With a tremulous voice, barely louder than the brush of butterfly wings, you admit to Nayoung, to yourself, to the universe, “I have feelings for Jeno. I’m falling for him.” The words are a confession, a release, a testament to a heart that refuses to be hushed any longer.

Nayoung’s reaction is a gentle laughter, rich with the warmth of shared secrets and sisterly bonds. “I know you do,” Nayoung kisses your cheek and then groans at herself for doing that as she’s just messed up your makeup. As she’s fixing it, she tells you how proud she is of you for being true to your feelings and understanding who and what you want, for being mature and honest. “You know, I thought you’d be more emotional. I thought you’d cry,” she laughs, expecting you to admit you liked Jeno with tears due to the heavy confession.

“I’m fine. I’m happy. He makes me happy and I trust him,” you speak with so much innocence and trust.

“So you don’t want it to be casual anymore?” she probes.

You shake your head. “I didn’t mind at first but now? Fuck, yeah, he’s mine. I need him to be mine. I really wanna ask him tonight, or hope that he asks me,” you say with a determination in your eye.

“No, Y/N, you should wait until he asks you,” Nayoung gives you friendly advice, her voice sweet.

“Why?” you inquire, curious about her reasoning.

Nayoung pauses, her hands still as she meets your gaze in the mirror. “Because it’s important that he makes that commitment too, without any pushing. It shows that he’s not only ready but eager to take that step. You want it to be his decision, coming from him wanting you just as much as you want him. It’s not about playing games; it’s about ensuring that his feelings match the depth of yours. Plus, it will mean more if it comes from him, don’t you think?” Her words carry the weight of experience, gentle yet firm, aiming to guide you towards a decision that solidifies the sincerity of your relationship.

You nod, a flicker of hopeful naivety shining in your eyes. "I really think it's going to happen soon. We had quite a moment last night," you begin, your voice dropping to a whisper.

"Oh?" Nayoung leans in closer, her interest piqued, sensing the significance in your tone.

Taking a deep breath, you confide, "I stumbled upon a photo of Arin on his phone. It was... intimate, and it made me feel all sorts of ways—jealous, upset, and then to make things worse, Arin happened to call him at that very moment." You pause, collecting your thoughts. "Jeno was open about it. He said he used to have a lot of pictures with her and probably missed some when he was deleting them."

Nayoung's eyes widen as she registers what you just said. "She called him? She what? Why does he still have her number?"

You huff, frustration evident. "God knows why. And I picked up the phone because I got angry, and Arin was kinda sweet?"

Nayoung scoffs, her disbelief clear. "Sweet? Please, she's nothing but a bitch, pretending to be all innocent."

You laugh at her blunt assessment. "She asked to speak to Jeno when I picked up."

"And??" Nayoung presses, leaning forward in anticipation.

"He said he was busy and ended it," you respond, trying to mask the mix of relief and confusion in your voice.

Nayoung is visibly stunned, processing the information. "Well, at least he didn't entertain her," she finally says, a slight nod indicating her approval.

Nayoung’s eyes widened, taken aback by what you’ve just spilled. “So they were serious? Not just fuck buddies?” she asks, her voice tinged with surprise.

You nod, feeling the sting of the admission. “He told me he loved her once.”

“Wow, that’s deep,” she exhales, processing the weight of your words.

“He made it clear they’re over. He ended things because she wouldn’t fully commit, and he’s been over her for a long time now. I want to believe him when he says he’s moved on… Am I naive for that?”

Nayoung considers this, her expression serious. “Do you trust him?”

You don’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“He told me he wouldn’t ever go back to her, even if she changed her mind. He said I mean too much to him, that he wouldn’t ever do that to me, that he wouldn’t hurt me, that I’m his priority and that he cherishes me,” you confide in Nayoung.

Nayoung’s eyes widened in surprise, a rare moment of speechlessness. “If a guy ever said that to me, the words ‘I love you’ would be slipping from my tongue.” 

“We also nearly had sex but Donghyuck walked in, and I’ve never seen Jeno get so mad. You should’ve seen his face.” you add with a laugh, sharing the absurdity of the situation.

“Yeah, and get this—” you lean in, a playful glint in your eye, “—since meeting me, I’m the only girl he’s fucked.”

Nayoung’s mouth falls open, her surprise genuine. “Seriously? For Jeno, that’s… that’s huge. Normally he’s having sex twice a week, sometimes even more.” 

──────────────────────────────

The bar is a canvas of shadows and dimly lit corners, where a mingling scent of aged wood and spilled liquor permeates the air. It’s an ambiance that speaks of stories untold, a place where many nights have unfolded in the haze of neon lights and reverberating music. Strings of Edison bulbs drape across the ceiling, offering a warm glow that dances off the well-worn surfaces of the bar and tables.

The crowd tonight is unusually thick, a sea of faces swaying to the rhythm of the music. You glance around, perplexed and a little overwhelmed by the number of people gathered. It’s as if the whole town has decided to show up. Despite the usual anonymity afforded by the dim lighting and the casual chaos of the bar, tonight feels different. As you scan the room, your eyes catch glimpses of familiar faces mixed with strangers, but what surprises you is the number of eyes that fleetingly meet yours, quickly looking away as if caught in the act of watching you. The realisation dawns on you slowly—the crowd isn’t just here for the usual Friday night revelry. They’re here for you.

You don’t blame them, you’re on stage and you’re in your element, the throb of the bass vibrating through your fingers as you blend into the fabric of the music. Your band plays with such harmony and rhythm that the crowd can’t help but sway to, captivated by Yeji’s beautiful voice, a melody that tugs at heartstrings.

You're also singing, harmonising with Yeji. While you haven't done a solo in front of anyone before, you love to sing. You enjoy it. Sunwoo has heard you sing and has tried to convince you to lead one of the performances, but you're too shy to take the spotlight.

And there he is—Jeno, your unspoken muse, the silent force behind every note you play. His eyes are locked on you, and even from the distance, you can feel the warmth of his gaze, the silent support in his smile. When he blows you a kiss, a current of exhilaration shoots through you, and for a fleeting moment, it’s just the two of you in the room.

Your eyes are only for him and he means the world to you. Tonight feels like the perfect moment to ask him to be your boyfriend.

Your eyes fix on Jeno once more but you notice a shift. instead of the usual supportive smiles, his gaze is elsewhere—fixed on Arin, who’s laughing, looking effortlessly breathtaking beside someone new. You didn’t even realise she was here, why was she here? 

The knot in your stomach tightens as you watch his expression change. There’s a hardness in his eyes, a tension in his jaw. The way he watches her speaks of unsaid words and unresolved feelings. Jeno’s look is one of jealousy, mixed with a hint of regret, as if he’s reconsidering every decision that led him away from her.

Your fingers falter on the bass strings, the melody souring. The room spins slightly as you try to refocus, to lose yourself in the music and Yeji’s harmonizing voice, but the scene unfolding offstage captures all your attention. Why now? Why here? 

With each jealous glance Jeno throws Arin’s way, a cold fear grips you. The joy of playing, the thrill of the music, fades into the background as a single, painful thought pierces through the confusion: What if he still wants her? What if tonight, the night you planned to ask him to be yours, ends with your heart breaking in front of everyone?

As the last notes of your performance fade into the din of applause and chatter, the glow from the stage lights seems to flicker out with your spirit. You feel drained, your usual post-show buzz overshadowed by a dull ache in your chest. The image of Jeno’s gaze drifting away from you and onto Arin is etched painfully into your mind.

You're barely off the stage when Jeno finds you. He pulls you into a hard kiss, the kind that usually melts away any remnants of stage fright or leftover adrenaline. But tonight, the kiss doesn’t reach the hollow feeling creeping up inside you. As he pulls back, his eyes scan your face, his joy at your performance shadowed by concern at how quiet you are.

“What’s up?” he asks, his voice soft, threaded with worry.

You shake your head, trying to dislodge the tightness in your throat, the words refusing to come. He doesn't push, but his eyes narrow slightly—a silent acknowledgment of the tension he too can sense.

He doesn’t wait for an answer, instead pulling you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you from behind. His lips find your cheek in a gentle kiss, and he murmurs. “I’m so proud of you.” The warmth of his breath against your skin sparks a contrast to the cold knot of doubt inside you.

But the images from earlier—the way he looked at Arin—haunt the edges of your happiness. “You were amazing tonight,” he continues, his hands sliding down to compliment your skirt, his fingers tracing the fabric around your hips. “I love this look on you,” he adds, voice rich with admiration.

His praises should have lifted your spirits but tonight they fell flat. Why was he looking at her like that? 

As he guides you through the crowd, his hand firm on your back, his actions are everything tender and protective, yet your mind races, trapped in a spiral of what-ifs and why-nows. His intimacy and affirmations, though genuine, feel overshadowed by the brief flash of something else in his gaze earlier—a complexity you hadn’t anticipated and aren’t sure how to navigate.

Sometime later, you find yourself with the band, leaning your head against Eric’s shoulder as laughter and chatter fill the air. The atmosphere is relaxed, almost festive, but you can’t shake off the weight of the evening’s events. Despite the alcohol flowing freely, you force yourself to stay present, mustering a smile to blend in with the group.

Jeno is engrossed in conversation with some friends, his animated gestures catching your eye from across the room. You take a moment to admire him, the way his eyes light up when he talks, the easy charm that draws people to him.

Needing a moment alone to gather your thoughts, you excuse yourself and slip away to the toilets. Leaning against the sink, you take deep breaths, trying to calm the turmoil swirling inside you. The events of the night replay in your mind, each moment etched vividly in your memory.

Emerging from the bathroom, the lingering energy from the gig vibrates within you, but it’s quickly overshadowed by the sight of Arin waiting by the corridor. Her smile is warm, seemingly genuine, as she clutches her purse. “You were just wonderful tonight,” she starts, her voice sweet, complimenting each of your band members—Yeji’s powerful vocals, Eric’s intense drum solos, Sunwoo’s infectious energy. Yet, when her eyes finally rest on you, the warmth subtly shifts.

She steps closer, her voice still soft but carrying an undertone you can’t quite place. “You know it’s not gonna last, right?” she murmurs, almost kindly, as if she’s sharing friendly advice rather than planting a seed of doubt.

You gulp, feeling stunned as it takes time for her statement to register and digest. You look at her in confusion. "What are you—?"

She laughs, the sound joyful and bright, and the twinkle in her eyes makes her look so beautiful and carefree. You understand why she's so adored by everyone. Yet, you can't tell whether she's laughing with you or mocking you. "I'm talking about you and Jeno," she says, her voice lilting as if discussing something trivial, not the bombshell she just dropped.

Managing only a faint reply, your voice comes out hushed and shaky, betraying your rattled nerves. “Why would you say that?” you ask, your question more of a whisper, as if speaking louder might confirm her 

She gives a gentle, patronising laugh. “Oh, honey, you shouldn’t get your hopes up too high,” she says, her eyes pitying. Her tone is nurturing, but the words sting, undermining the intensity of what you feel for Jeno.

Feeling a tightness in your chest, the words barely escape your lips, “Do you really think it’s not serious?” Your voice quivers, laced with insecurity and a lack of confidence as you seek validation for the intense feelings you harbour for him. 

Arin nods slowly, her expression morphing into one of feigned sympathy. “I can see how much you like him, and that it’s serious for you,” she begins, her tone soft, as if trying to cushion a harsh truth. “I’m really sorry he doesn’t feel the same way” Her words aim to sympathize, yet the empathy doesn’t quite reach her eyes, making her sincerity questionable.

You want to scream at her, to tell her that she shouldn't undermine the feelings you and Jeno very clearly have for each other. It is serious, but all you can do is swallow hard and nod slightly, unable to muster the courage to speak your disagreement. The weight of her words hangs heavy on your chest, suffocating you with their arrogance.

"Has he asked you to be his girlfriend?" Arin presses, her voice dripping with skepticism, her eyes boring into yours, searching for any sign of weakness.

"No," you admit, your voice barely audible, feeling the weight of her scrutiny bearing down on you, making you shrink further into yourself.

Arin's tone shifts, carrying a hint of nostalgia as she leans in slightly, her voice tinged with a hint of pride. 

"He asked me to be his girlfriend only three months after we met. How long have you two been seeing each other now? Six months?" Her words, meant as mere conversation, hang heavily between you, laden with implications she doesn't fully grasp.

You nod, feeling a pang of disappointment as her statement sinks in. The comparison stings, underscoring your own uncertainties about where you stand with Jeno. Arin's smile broadens, her eyes bright, oblivious to the discomfort she's unwittingly evoked.

Arin's expression softens, a wistful sigh escaping her lips as she leans closer, her voice lowering to a more intimate tone. "Honestly? I want him back. I’ve always felt like I’ve been his and he’s been mine. Like he’s my soulmate. Our connection and love is too strong for us to tear apart. Even if we distract ourselves with others, like what he’s doing with you, I know we’ll always find our way back to each other. Jeno is the one for me. He’s kind, caring, funny, smart, always puts me first and—don’t even get me started on how it feels to be kissed by him. And sex with him? God… I’ve really missed him."

That sounds like a ‘you’ problem, you wanted to mutter out loud. “Did you really just call me a distraction?” you question, your voice soft, not raised or rude at all. You weren’t going to stoop to that level.

She nods, apparently unaware of how harsh her words sound.

“I’m not a distraction, you can’t talk to me like that,” you defend yourself, your tone still even.

She giggles and shakes her head, her demeanour light as if she hadn't just dismissed your feelings. “Don’t be like that, you know what I mean.”

You shake your head, genuinely confused and hurt. “I really don’t.”

Arin’s conviction seems to solidify as she speaks, her tone sharpening, not catching the strain in your eyes. “You don’t get it,” she says, her voice rising slightly with a mix of frustration and certainty. “He’s still in love with me,” she declares, her hands casually smoothing her hair as if to emphasise her nonchalance. “That’s probably why he hasn’t taken it further with you.”

The tears well up in your eyes, but Arin remains utterly unfazed by your distress, her expression as composed as if she were discussing something trivial.

“I’m just waiting for him to come back to me, honestly, because that’s what he always does. But for some reason, he’s been infatuated and hooked on you for so long now. I guess the sex is that good, right?” Her words drip with insinuation, her smile sly and assuming.

Your laughter catches her off guard, and you can see the confusion in her narrowed eyes. Was she serious right now? Did she really think the only reason Jeno could ever be interested in you was for your body? In truth, you and Jeno haven’t had a lot of sex. You haven’t been ready for it, and he’s respected that. If only Arin knew. But you wouldn’t tell her. It’s frankly none of her business, and it’s incredibly intrusive of her to speak about your relationship with Jeno.

"I knew you'd understand," Arin smiles, her tone light but loaded with insinuation. Her words catch you off guard.

"What?" Your confusion is palpable, reflected in the slight furrow of your brow.

"Well, I know how much of a girl's girl you are—how sweet and loving. I have no doubt in my mind that you'd step away from whatever situation you’re having with Jeno," she continues, assuming a camaraderie that isn't there.

You huff, irritation spiking. "It's not a situationship, don't you dare—"

"It doesn't matter what it was," Arin cuts in dismissively. "The point is, I love Jeno and I deserve another chance with him. I know you'd understand. It's not like you feel anything for him, and he doesn’t like you either. It's obvious, why else hasn’t he asked you to be his girlfriend? He’s still in love with me."

Her words sting, a mix of arrogance and misguided assurance in her belief that she could manipulate your feelings. The audacity to suggest that your relationship with Jeno was anything less than genuine makes your heart race with a mix of anger and hurt.

Seconds later, your name floats across the room, spoken with a warmth that tugs at your heart. Jeno's presence cuts through, drawing every ounce of your attention. You force a smile as he approaches, though it feels hollow against the turmoil within you.

Jeno doesn’t hesitate as he reaches you, his gaze locked intensely on yours. There's a fervor in his eyes, a seriousness that chills you even as it pulls you closer. Without a word, he wraps you in his arms and kisses you passionately, his lips firm and insistent. As he pulls away, his lips find your forehead, pressing against your skin in an act so tender it sends shivers down your spine.

"Are you okay, baby?" His voice is a soft rumble, filled with genuine concern. You look up at him, your eyes wide and vulnerable.

"Just a bit overwhelmed," you whisper, your voice cracking under the weight of emotions. You're acutely aware of Arin's lingering presence nearby, her shadow casting a pall over the moment. Jeno seems oblivious to her, his attention undividedly yours, his hands holding you with a protectiveness that feels both comforting and profound.

You shiver, whether from the cold or the intensity of the situation, you can’t tell. Jeno notices immediately, his brow furrowing with worry. "Are you cold, beautiful?" he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. Before you can answer, he gently slides his jacket over your shoulders. The fabric is warm from his body and you get lost in the scent of him. 

"Thank you, Jen," you manage, a small smile playing on your lips, touched by his thoughtfulness.

"I’ve been trying to find you, where did you go?" he asks, his tone light but his eyes searching yours for deeper answers.

You take his drink from his hands before you can answer. He rolls his eyes, telling you not to get carried away with drinking tonight, but you wouldn’t listen, especially when he tears the cap off with his teeth and holds it for you, leaving a soft kiss on your lips before you down it.

As you down the drink, the alcohol burns your throat, causing you to choke and cough. "Slow down," he chuckles, his hand rubbing your back gently to soothe you. He wipes away some of the alcohol that had dribbled down your chin, his touch tender and affectionate.

He leans in for another kiss, his lips meeting yours in a sweet, lingering embrace. When he tries to take the drink from you to slow your pace, you pout playfully, earning another affectionate peck on the lips. The two of you are lost in your own little world, you allow

yourself to forget about Arin just for this moment.

“Why are you so stressed out?” Jeno’s voice broke through the air 

“Because Arin here is telling me to back off and stop fucking you,” you replied with a nonchalant tone. Your voice was steady, but your hands betrayed you, fidgeting with the hem of his jacket.

That’s when Jeno’s eyes shifted, landing on Arin for the first time since he came over. His look was a mix of disgust and confusion, tinged with an unmistakable uninterest. She had been so silent, her presence had almost slipped your mind. But there she was, just observing, as if waiting for a crack to appear in the facade of your evening.

“Don’t listen to her,” Jeno said firmly, his voice raised just enough for Arin to catch every syllable. It was as if she wasn’t even worthy of his gaze, let alone a direct confrontation.

He then leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear, a stark contrast to the chill that Arin’s words had left behind. “We haven’t even been fucking. Half the time she’s living in another universe, so don’t give her any attention, okay? Don’t give her the satisfaction of knowing she’s bothered you,” he whispered, his words a soft but potent shield against the chaos Arin tried to sow.

Jeno's reaction is sudden and sharp as he hears your words, his face contorting into an expression of disbelief. “What else did she say?” he asks, his voice tinged with an edge that makes you hesitate. When you reluctantly admit, “Apparently you still love her,” a laugh bursts from him—one you’ve never heard before. It's not filled with amusement but rather a harshness that makes even you feel a sting of guilt for Arin. The sound hits her visibly, the impact evident in her faltering demeanor. 

Jeno’s grip on your hand tightens, his frustration palpable as he turns towards Arin with a piercing glare. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he demands, his voice booming in the small space, drawing the attention of those nearby. 

Arin, trying to defuse his anger, pleads with a shaky voice, “Jen, don’t be angry—”

But he cuts her off sharply, “Don’t call me that.” His response is so cold, so final, it makes you flinch; you've never seen him this furious, this detached from his usual warmth.

Realising the scene might escalate, you turn his face to meet yours, cupping his cheeks gently. His eyes, which had been hard and unforgiving, soften immediately under your touch. His breath evens out as you whisper soothingly, “Jen, don’t make a scene, okay?” 

Jeno hums, his brow furrowed in frustration, his body tensing as he turns back to Arin. There's a cold sharpness in his eyes now, a clear signal that he's far from finished. "What else did you say?" he demands, his voice low and threateningly calm.

Arin swallows hard, visibly shaken by his intensity. "Me and Y/N just had a heart to heart," she stammers, attempting to paint a picture that never existed. "We talked about how she'd take a step back from whatever situation you two have gotten yourselves into. That way, I could tell you the truth, show you how much you mean to me, commit for real. I know you don’t trust me yet, and that it will take a lot of work, but I’m willing to try. Are you? I really do love you, Jeno, and I always have."

The silence that follows is heavy, filled with tension that makes the air thick and difficult to breathe. Jeno's face cycles through emotions rapidly—humour gives way to disbelief, and then a scorching anger that flares intensely in his eyes. The transformation is so sudden, so severe, it sends a chill down your spine. You want nothing more than to reach for his hand and pull him away, but the moment demands your presence, your witness to his raw, unrestrained emotion.

"What is wrong with you?" Jeno's voice cracks like a whip, each word dripping with disdain and incredulity. His stance is imposing, the muscles in his jaw twitching with barely restrained anger.

Arin, teary-eyed, looks up at him. "Jeno, am I so wrong for being true to my feelings?" Her voice breaks, a mixture of desperation and manipulation.

"You're pathetic," Jeno responds, the harshness in his tone slicing through the tense atmosphere. "You’re so pathetic. I can’t believe it." His words are not just a dismissal but a condemnation, delivered with a brutal honesty that even makes you gasp.

Arin's voice is a soft, broken whisper, almost pleading as she clings to a sliver of hope, tears streaking her face. "I know you’re still in love with me."

"I don’t love you, and I never will," he states firmly, his voice void of hesitation or doubt.

Arin’s plea intensifies, her emotions raw. "You used to love me, you used to love me so much—"

"And you're making me regret ever feeling that way," he interrupts sharply, his tone laced with a harshness that draws a startled gasp from you. The situation escalates quickly, his anger palpable.

Through her sobs, Arin struggles to comprehend the finality in his voice. "How can feelings like that just disappear? How can you move on so easily?"

Jeno’s anger simmers into a cold, controlled calm. "Honestly, just stop talking now," he commands, the tension in his voice still evident but more restrained.

"Jeno—" Arin tries to interject, desperation tingeing her voice.

"Arin." He warms, the bitterness in his tone a stark contrast to the sweetness with which he usually says your name. "I don’t want to hear anymore. I don’t want to talk to you ever again. We're going around in circles, and it’s clear I’ve moved on. You should too."

“Look, if you ever upset Y/N again, if you make her feel this way again, I won’t stand for it. I’m not just upset because of what you said about us, but because you hurt someone important to me. She doesn’t deserve to be dragged into our past. You need to respect that and stay away.”

Jeno's confrontation had echoed loudly through the bar, drawing eyes from every corner. As he turns around and pulls you into a tight hug, you feel the weight of those stares, the lingering tension from the audience that had gathered. His arms wrap around your waist firmly, holding you close. Even as he releases you, you sense his reluctance, his smile barely held back as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, bringing him even closer.

The curiosity and concern of the onlookers press on you, and your only thought is to take him away, to calm him down. You gently lay your hand over his, feeling the stiff muscles beneath his skin. Leaning in, you whisper into his ear—words only for him, soothing and meaningful. You watch his eyes close, a nod acknowledging your comfort, but his face remains tense, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.

Seeking to lighten the mood, you kiss his eyelids gently and ask with feigned casualness, "How much sleep did you get last night?"

"About two hours," he mumbles, his voice thick with exhaustion.

"That explains why you're looking like a zombie," you tease gently, hoping to draw out a real smile. He lets out a low chuckle, not quite his usual laughter but appreciated all the same. Normally, your jokes would have him laughing heartily, but tonight it's forced, you were only trying to cheer him up. Yet, you feel his gratitude radiating back to you; he's thankful for your efforts to ease his mind, for trying to make him forget the stressful confrontation.

"Let's go home now, yeah?" you suggest softly, each word laced with concern, eager to leave the charged atmosphere of the bar behind. He nods silently, the agreement solid and sure.

As you both prepare to leave, Jeno drapes his arm protectively around your shoulders, guiding you through the crowd. The physical closeness comforts you both, a silent promise of support as you walk out of the bar together, leaving the whispers and stares behind in the dimmed lights.

The second you’ve guided him away your hands find his cheeks, cradling his face with a tender touch that you hoped would soothe his ruffled emotions. In the dim light of the parking lot, his eyes searched yours for reassurance, finding solace in the calm you offered amidst the storm.

As you led him to the car, your fingertips lightly traced the contours of his face, planting soft, reassuring kisses across his forehead, cheeks, and finally his lips. "I'm so proud of you," you whispered against his lips, the warmth of your breath mingling with his. "You got everything off your chest."

He nodded, his eyes reflecting a mix of relief and residual tension as he pulled you closer, sealing your affirmations with a kiss that spoke volumes of gratitude and a lingering trace of sadness. 

As you reached for his car keys, Jeno's hand covered yours, stopping you gently but firmly. He finally spoke up, a hint of laughter in his voice to ease the tension, "No way, I don’t have a death wish," he joked, but his tone quickly turned serious, the humor fading as he looked directly into your eyes. "You mean so much to me," he continued, each word weighted with earnestness. "I don’t know what I did to deserve someone like you, but I'm not letting go. You're all mine."

"All yours.”

──────────────────────────────

You catch the hoodie Jeno tosses your way and pull it over your head, replacing your top with the comforting scent and warmth of his clothing. Watching him make his way to the edge of the bed, you notice how the night had etched itself into his form—the tension in his muscles, the fatigue in the set of his jaw, his skin glistening slightly under the dim room light.

Approaching quietly, you sit beside him, close enough to share warmth but giving him the space he seems to need. You reach out tentatively, resting your hand lightly on his back. The skin under your touch is warm, slightly damp with the sheen of stress. You start to move your hand in slow, comforting circles, trying to soothe the tension that has him so tightly wound.

The room is only filled with the soft, rhythmic sound of his breathing, each exhale slightly shaky as he tries to regain his composure. "Jeno?" you whisper, breaking the silence gently as you wait for him to meet your eyes. When he finally looks at you, the heartbreak in his gaze is palpable, and it strikes you deeply. The dim light from the bedside lamp catches the tears brimming in his eyes, a rare display of vulnerability.

"Oh, Jeno," you whisper, your voice thick as you fight back your own emotions. Seeing him this vulnerable disorients you—Jeno, always the strong one, now so clearly in need of support. He draws you closer, 

As Jeno gently pulls you onto his lap, the physical closeness brings an immediate sense of comfort and security. Settling into this favored position, you can feel the warmth of his body radiating against yours. The firmness of his thighs provides a grounding stability, while his arms encircle your waist, drawing you even closer. His embrace is protective, his hands resting lightly on your back, a touch that’s both reassuring and tender.

Every breath he takes is a shared experience. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest against yours, the subtle tension in his body as he tries to relax. His heartbeat, strong and steady under the palm of your hand, beats a comforting rhythm in the quiet of the room.

“I hate seeing you like this,” you whisper, leaning into him, your forehead resting against his. The closeness allows you to see every detail of his face, the vulnerability in his eyes more apparent than ever. Your fingers gently push back a lock of his hair that had fallen across his forehead, and you wipe away a tear with your thumb. Each touch is filled with concern and a deep need to comfort him, to ease the distress that so clearly weighs on him.

"You can always trust me, you know?" you add softly, looking into his eyes for a moment of connection, hoping to reassure him of your support.

Jeno responds with a small, appreciative nod, his eyes briefly closing as if to savour the comfort your words bring. Then, with a gentle nudge, he shifts your positions on the bed, guiding you both to lie down. He settles back against the pillows, and you naturally find your place on top of him, your body aligned with his in a close, comforting embrace.

His arms wrap around you securely, a protective gesture that pulls you closer into his chest. You can feel the steady beat of his heart against your cheek, the warmth of his chest enveloping you. Each breath he takes is a subtle rise and fall, a rhythm that you find yourself syncing with as the tension slowly begins to melt away from both of you.

He gives you a tight-lipped smile and nods, a silent acknowledgment of your words but also a sign that he's still guarding his thoughts closely. “I know I can, baby.” 

“I can feel how tense you are, what’s up?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, making you shiver slightly. His arms tighten around you, drawing you even closer, his body language reflecting his concern and deep care.

You gulp, caught off guard by his perceptiveness. You’ve been trying to hide your own unease to put him first, but he always knows when something’s on your mind, just by looking into your eyes.

Taking a deep breath, you weigh your options but decide it’s better to be open with him. "Jen, I have been trying to tell you something and I've been worrying about how to say it," you begin, the weight of your confession making your heart race a bit.

He looks at you, concern flickering in his eyes as he senses the seriousness in your voice. "What’s up?" he asks, his voice rough, filled with both concern for you and the weariness of his own troubles.

“Nothing,” you lie softly, a sad smile touching your lips as you lay your head back down on his chest. “It’s not important.”

“You can always talk to me, you know,” he replies, his tone gentle, using your own words against you in a playful yet sincere way.

You giggle at the role reversal, the light moment bringing a flicker of warmth to the heavy atmosphere. “I know, I know,” you whisper back, allowing yourself a moment to just be held by him, feeling the steady beat of his heart and the rise and fall of his breathing.

“Do you wanna talk about your thing?” you suggest after a while, hoping he trusted you enough to share his heart with you. You would always listen and respect his feelings, they were so precious to you.

“No.” He says immediately, shaking his head. “I’m fine,” he insists in a tone that doesn’t match his heart. “Just feeling tired, it’s nothing more than that.”

And that was his first lie.

──────────────────────────────

Walking across the university campus feels different today. The echoes of last night's band performance seem to have followed you, with noticeable traction and attention specifically directed at you, almost as if the applause and cheers have spilled over into the daylight. It’s been gradually building up, this increasing visibility, but today the weight of it truly sinks in. Each step feels more observed, each glance carries a hint of recognition, making the campus pathways feel less like passageways and more like stages.

The change isn't loud or sudden, but the weight of it is undeniable. People notice you, recognize you. It's not because of anything you've done, but because of who you're seen with: Jeno. Your relationship with him, not quite defined but visibly close, has unwittingly thrust you into a spotlight.

You're aware of the looks, the whispers as you pass by. Your previous anonymity has been stripped away, leaving you exposed to curious eyes. Your connection with Jeno is evident in your affectionate gestures both on and off campus. Whether it's hugging, kissing, hand-holding, or sharing laughs, people often mistake your closeness for a romantic relationship. Despite this, neither you nor Jeno correct them, leaving the nature of your bond open to interpretation.

This spotlight isn't confined to the walkways of the campus; it extends into your online world too. Your Instagram, which once felt like a personal photo album, now buzzes with activity. Posts featuring Jeno, which you uploaded without a second thought, have attracted more attention than you could have imagined

Messages and interactions flood your inbox, each one just a variation of 'hey' from people who never noticed you before. You see through the thin veil of their sudden interest—it's insincere, a shallow attempt to connect with you, not for who you are, but for the company you keep.

The newfound attention is dizzying, but it's also exhausting. Each interaction, each forced conversation, drains you. What used to be simple walks to class are now peppered with stops and small talk, leaving you feeling more like a public figure than a student.

Some of them were bad interactions and attention—really bad. You’re working on a university project with Jiwon, someone you recently befriended. But she’s cool, and you need a partner for this project. The way you met wasn’t the nicest:

“So, you and Jeno have been getting close, right?”

Your stomach twists at the unexpected question, and you shoot Jiwon a puzzled look, trying to gauge her intentions. She meets your gaze with a knowing smirk, and you can’t help but feel a tinge of unease creeping up your spine.

“Who are you?” you respond cautiously, the edge in your voice betraying your suspicion.

“You know who I am,” she counters, her tone dripping with confidence.

But that’s the past. You always thought she was a bit weird, but she works hard, and you guess that’s just her way of being friendly. Little did you know what her true intentions were. 

As you typed away on your laptop, surrounded by stacks of musical textbooks, you couldn’t help but smile at the messages popping up from Jeno. A thousand thoughts whirled in your head, and none of them were focused on this project; you were utterly unfocused. Jiwon tapped away at her laptop across from you, occasionally glancing over with a too-curious gaze that prickled your comfort. The air between you, once filled with the soft clicking of keys and the rustle of pages turning, now carried a charge of tension.

“That was quite the show last night,” Jiwon started, the curiosity evident in her eyes as she peered at you over her laptop screen. “I saw you leave with Jeno.”

“Yeah, figures, we are seeing each other,” you responded dryly, not lifting your gaze from your screen, hoping your tone conveyed your lack of interest in discussing it further.

Jiwon's eyebrows quirk upwards, a mix of surprise and something else—a calculated interest—flashing across her features. "Really now? That’s... interesting. How long has that been going on?" Her tone is casual, but her eyes are too sharp, too keen, as if dissecting your every reaction.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, not liking the scrutiny or the direction this conversation is taking. "A while," you reply vaguely, keeping your eyes fixed on your laptop screen, hoping to convey your disinterest in continuing this line of discussion.

"But are you guys serious?" Jiwon presses, leaning forward, her voice lowering as if sharing a secret. "Because, you know, Jeno and Arin were a pretty intense thing. Everyone thought they were endgame."

“But they never were a couple. They were never boyfriend and girlfriend.” you say, keeping your tone deadpan.

“Oh honey, is that what he told you?” Jiwon responds, her voice dripping with sweet, mocking condescension.

“Is it not true?” you say, a hint of irritation seeping through, feeling foolish for even having to defend what Jeno told you.

Jiwon pauses, as if contemplating how much to reveal, her gaze sharp and calculating. "Well, it's complicated," she starts slowly, each word measured. "They weren't officially a couple, no. But they might as well have been. They were everything but in name. And sometimes, that's even stronger, don't you think?"

Her words hang in the air, heavy with implication. You feel a knot tighten in your stomach, the doubt she's planting beginning to sprout. Struggling to keep your voice steady, you confirm, "So, they were serious then." No matter what Jeno tells you, this confirms that he still had lingering attachment to her. 

Jiwon nods, a feigned sympathy in her eyes as she leans closer. "They were inseparable, everyone knew it. Just because there wasn't a label on it doesn't mean it wasn't real. Jeno... he's someone who feels deeply, you know? When he's in, he's all in. And he was all in with Arin."

You press your lips together, feeling the sting of her words. "But that's all in the past, right?"

"Sure," Jiwon replies, her tone noncommittal. "But the past has a way of sticking around, especially with feelings that intense. It's hard to just cut that off completely, don't you think?"

Her words echo in your mind, sowing seeds of insecurity. You wrestle internally with the implications of Jeno’s past with Arin, questioning whether the affection he shows you could truly eclipse his history with her. Across from you, Jiwon observes your reaction with a slight, knowing smile, her point landing effectively without the need for further elaboration.

Frustration and a touch of defiance rise within you as you process her insinuations about Arin. Clenching your jaw to quell the irritation, you assert firmly, “It’s different with us.” Your tone is resolute, an attempt to dismiss any comparisons she might be suggesting. “We’re happy. That’s all that matters.”

Jiwon nods, seemingly satisfied with your discomfort. She taps a finger against her lips thoughtfully. "Sure, sure. Just seems sudden, you know? Jeno moving on like that. Makes you wonder if it's really over with Arin, or if you're just a... distraction."

The word stings more than you'd like to admit, and you can't help but frown. "I'm not anyone's distraction," you snap, more sharply than intended, your fingers pausing above the keyboard.

"Hey, no offence," Jiwon raises her hands in mock surrender, her smile a little too wide to be sincere. "Just making conversation. You guys look cute together, really. Just hope it's for the right reasons, you know?"

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to calm the rising annoyance. "We should focus on the project," you suggest coldly, turning your attention back to your screen, signaling the end of this unwelcome discussion.

Jiwon shrugs, the smile still playing on her lips as she turns back to her laptop, but not before giving you a look that says she's not quite done digging. You exhale quietly, tension settling in your shoulders as you try to refocus on the work in front of you, Jiwon's words echoing uncomfortably in the back of your mind.

“Has he asked you to be his girlfriend?” she prods further, her gaze piercing as she waits for your response.

It’s none of your fucking business. 

“We’re just taking it slow,” you respond, your tone polite but laced with a hint of caution, unwilling to divulge too much.

“And you think he will?” she laughs cynically, the sound grating on your nerves as it echoes in the small room.

You shake your head in frustration. “Stop asking me such personal questions,” you implore, trying to keep your patience intact even as annoyance gnaws at the edges of your composure.

She ignores your discomfort completely. “Do you think he’s over Arin?”

“I—”

“Let me show you something,” she interrupts, a smug grin spreading across her face as she pulls out her phone, her eyes gleaming with malicious intent.

As the video plays, the image of school lockers floods the screen. You instantly recognise a younger Jeno steps into view, clad in his crisp school uniform, his face alight with youthful hope and nervous energy.

He's holding a single rose, his stance awkward yet sincere as he speaks to Arin, the words muted but his intentions clear in his earnest expression. The scene is painfully romantic, set against a backdrop of blooming flowers and classmates passing by with fleeting glances. You can't help but feel a sting as you watch him put himself out there, so vulnerable and open. He was asking her to be his girlfriend. 

But then, Arin's response comes—a shake of her head, her voice lost in the silent video, but her rejection palpable. The rose hangs limply in Jeno's hand as he nods, trying to mask his disappointment. The video ends with him turning away, a figure retreating in the face of unreciprocated feelings, leaving you with a bitter taste in your mouth. 

Jiwon grins at your reaction, revelling in your discomfort. It’s what she wanted, and you’re giving in. Doubt creeps in as you wonder why she approached you in the first place. Was this her ulterior motive all along?

“You’re just trying to get into my head, and it’s not going to work,” you retort, your voice stronger now, determined not to let her shake you. “Why would

that video hurt me? Jeno was a fetus in it and he’s moved on, he wouldn’t ever ask Arin to be his girlfriend today.” 

"But if he's moved on, why hasn't he made it official with you?" Jiwon probes further, her tone mockingly sympathetic. "You're just the girl he's with now. Not the one he wants."

"That's your opinion," you respond crisply, closing your laptop with a snap. "It doesn't matter to me. What Jeno and I have is between us."

“Ok but he’s never asked you to be his girlfriend, has me? I mean… that must sting. I know why he’s never asked, it’s because you guys don’t have anything in common—”

“Yeah, we don’t,” you agree, refusing to let her see how much her words are affecting you. She wants you to disagree and reflect so much so you don’t give her the satisfaction.

“Especially sexually. You’re some Christian virgin girl who’s into vanilla sex—”

“How do you know? Have you fucked me?” you snap back, your frustration boiling over.

“—and Jeno is wild and rough in bed,” she continues, her smirk widening at your discomfort. “You know, once me, Arin, and Jeno had a threesome. I bet he’d never be able to experiment like that with you.”

Jiwon's grin widened, a mix of satisfaction and malice in her eyes as she closely observed your reaction. It was exactly what she had hoped for, and you felt like you were inadvertently falling right into her trap. As you grappled with maintaining your composure, you couldn't help but wonder about Jiwon's motives for approaching you initially. Was this all some twisted strategy on her part? The thought made you feel both jealous and underappreciated, particularly stinging given Jeno had never formally committed to being your boyfriend or shown the kind of grand romantic gestures that Jiwon seemed to enjoy bringing up.

"I just wanna look out for you, girl to girl," Jiwon said, her voice dripping with false tenderness. "I have no clue how he’s wound up with you, you’re not what he’s used to, he’s more into girls like Arin so brace for heartbreak. You’re probably just someone to keep his bed warm; he'll go back to Arin, he always does."

Her words were a calculated strike, designed to undermine and provoke. Anger and frustration bubbled inside you, and impulsively, your hand slammed the laptop shut. The sound echoed sharply through the room, drawing the attention of everyone nearby. For a brief moment, Jiwon's satisfied expression flickered with surprise. But her smirk quickly returned, as if your reaction was a minor amusement.

"You're just trying to get into my head, and it's not going to work," you retorted sharply, your voice firm and your gaze steely. "You need to watch it."

The room fell silent, with a few scattered gasps from onlookers. Someone whispered loud enough for others to hear, "That's Jeno's girl," fueling a renewed sense of confidence within you.

Jiwon leaned back, her expression cooling into something more calculating. "Oh, I'm just concerned, that's all," she replied smoothly, feigning innocence. 

Finally, you had enough. When Jiwon casually suggested, "Yeah, we should continue working," you laughed in her face, a mix of disbelief and disdain coloring your response. "Can you leave? I don’t want to work with you anymore. Get out," you said assertively, leaving no room for her to argue.

Jiwon, caught off guard but maintaining her smug composure, quickly gathered her things and left, her departure marked by a silence that filled the room as everyone watched. You breathed a sigh of relief, proud that you stood your ground, yet unsettled by the seeds of doubt that lingered.

──────────────────────────────

The autumn leaves crunched under your feet as you walked through the campus, a crisp reminder that two weeks had already slipped by since your unsettling conversation with Jiwon. The vibrancy of the season felt at odds with the dreariness settling in your heart. You kept walking, your gaze fixed ahead, but your mind was anything but calm, cycling through recent events that had started to feel like weights around your neck.

Choosing to keep Jiwon’s words to yourself seemed like the wise choice initially, avoiding unnecessary drama. But now, that decision gnawed at you, breeding a loneliness that clung stubbornly to your thoughts. The mistrust it fostered wasn’t just about what Jiwon had said; it was the doubt about what else might be unsaid, the secrets that might be whispered behind closed doors or shared in hidden glances.

You sighed, thinking about the conversations that never happened—the ones about Arin, the discussions Jeno had with her, the ones he never brought up with you. They hovered in the air, palpable but unacknowledged, like specters of mistrust between you two. These matters had remained unspoken, transforming gradually into silent witnesses of your growing isolation.

The campus was bustling around you, students moving between classes, lost in conversations or laughter, a stark contrast to the solitude that felt like it was enveloping you more tightly with each passing day. You hadn’t really spoken to Jeno much, not about things that mattered. The once easy conversations, filled with laughter and deep confessions, had dwindled to nothing more substantial than hurried greetings and vague promises of ‘I’ll text you later’ as you passed each other in the hallways. The rarity of his presence, both physical and emotional, was becoming painfully evident.

You missed him. Not just the physical presence but the emotional connection that once seemed unshakeable. It felt as if he had receded into a shell, or worse, into a world where you could no longer reach him. Each brief kiss, each fleeting touch, left you more frustrated and flustered than before. They were mere echoes of what you used to share, reminders of the distance that had grown between you.

Jeno's reasons for being distant were valid, not just convenient excuses. It was evident in every hurried conversation and the rare, weary smiles he offered between his classes and study sessions. You had seen the tangible proof of his commitment—his desk, perpetually buried under books and papers; the late nights you caught him in the lab, soldering and sketching long after everyone else had left and his apron; always stained with oil or littered with bits of metal and wood.

He had made a clear choice to cut out distractions, putitng a hold on drinking, getting high and partying to buckle down on his engineering projects. There was no question about his discipline or his focus on the future. It was admirable, truly, and part of what you adored about him—his ability to commit so completely to his goals.

You always felt a surge of pride watching him, his determination palpable. Supporting him was never a question; you wanted his dreams for him as much as he did. Yet, despite your pride in his achievements and your awe for his aspirations, a small part of you felt sidelined.

As much as you admired his dedication, it pained you to feel like an outsider looking in. His life was filled with calculations and projects, and somewhere along the line, it felt like there was less and less room for you. It wasn’t that you doubted his affection, but his absence left a void that was hard to ignore. You supported him unconditionally, yet you couldn’t shake the feeling of being excluded from the very life you were cheering him on to build.

As you walked, a leaf drifted from a branch, spiraling down to land softly beside your shoe. You stopped, looking down at it, its vibrant reds and oranges stark against the gray pavement. It was beautiful and yet, so transient. A sudden fear gripped you, unbidden and sharp—was this what was happening to your relationship with Jeno? A beautiful thing, fading before it really had the chance to grow?

──────────────────────────────

As you and Sunwoo navigate the bustling pathways of the campus, his arm occasionally drapes around your shoulder, steering you clear of the occasional student and backpack that seem to emerge in your path like sudden obstacles. His touch is grounding, but you’re barely there, your gaze downcast, lost in a swirl of somber thoughts.

Sunwoo has been watching you closely, and his voice breaks the silence, tinged with concern. “Hey, you haven’t said much today. What’s going on?” He looks at you intently, giving you a gentle squeeze to reassure you that he’s there, really there for you.

You glance up, meeting his gaze, the familiarity of his earnest concern makes the words spill out of you, almost against your will. “I miss Jeno,” you confess, the words heavy with unshed emotion. “It just hurts a lot, not talking to him for so long. I’m always here to support him, even help him study… But it feels like he’s just shut me out.”

Sunwoo’s expression softens as he exhales deeply, trying to offer comfort. “I’m sure it’s not like that,” he says, although his voice carries a hint of doubt, sensing the depth of your distress.

Your next words are laced with a raw vulnerability, your heart overriding the logic you strive to hold onto. “It’s like… I can see it in his eyes, Sunwoo. He’s losing interest in me.” You pause, swallowing hard, the fear evident in your voice. 

Before Sunwoo can reply, his eyes shift past your shoulder, focusing on something—or someone—behind you. “He’s right there,” he says, nodding towards a figure in the distance. “Let’s go see if that’s true.”

You catch sight of Jeno through the sea of students, his laughter ringing clear, each chuckle like a melody you've yearned to hear. His back is to you, shoulders relaxed among friends. Heart pounding, you hesitate, then muster the courage to approach, tapping gently on his shoulder.

"Jen," your voice barely a whisper, yet it slices through the laughter, halting conversations. He turns, his friends drifting away, leaving you both in a sudden quiet. His smile is tight-lipped, a strained semblance of normalcy that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, which dart briefly as if searching for an escape or an excuse.

"You okay?" His words are automatic, the customary concern laced with an undercurrent of weariness. He seems poised to keep moving, to brush past this moment.

"Yeah, I just—I just miss you, that’s all. I hope you’re taking care of yourself," you say, the words more of a plea than a statement. Each syllable is heavy with unspoken emotion, a blend of longing and subtle accusation.

"I miss you too. I’m sorry for how busy I’ve been—" Jeno starts, his apology cut off by the earnest, almost desperate look in your eyes.

"I know you're busy, but can you please come over later? Or I can come to yours. We don’t even need to do anything, I just wanna be with you," you press on, your voice soft yet insistent, betraying your need for him, for the connection that has been fraying at the edges.

He sighs, his face a canvas of conflict and affection. "I have to study so I won’t be able to give you the attention I want to," he admits, his voice low.

"That’s fine… I just wanna be with you," you persist, a frown knitting your brows. "I’ve really missed you, I fear I’m going crazy. Haven’t I, Sunwoo?"

Turning to Sunwoo, who's been hovering a respectful distance away, he mumbles awkwardly, "Yeah, batshit crazy." 

"Don’t do that face," Jeno says softly, his hands cupping your face gently, steering your gaze back to him. His expression softens into one of deep affection, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. He pulls you into a hug, the motion swift yet full of intent. 

You exhale sharply, sinking into his embrace, your body finally relaxing after weeks of tension. His scent envelops you, familiar and comforting, grounding you in the moment. The world narrows down to the feel of his arms around you, the steady beat of his heart against yours.

"How about I see you tomorrow night?" he suggests, his voice a soothing balm.

You pout, longing for more immediate comfort, but he chuckles softly, his breath warm against your ear. "Just wait an extra day, okay? Can you do that for me?" His lips graze your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine.

"Tomorrow is when all my exams will end, so I’ll be all yours from that moment onwards. Yeah, baby? You like the sound of that?" His words are husky, promising not just his time but his undivided attention.

"All. Mine," you affirm, leaning up to capture his lips with yours, initiating a deep, fervent kiss that you both have missed. The kiss is intense, a mingling of relief and longing, drawing out the weeks of separation into a single point of connection.

The sensation that passes through Jeno at your words is ineffable, a surge that sets his very soul quivering like a plucked string. It’s an ancient rhythm, a silent symphony that whispers of something more profound than desire—too deep to name, too sacred to voice. His heart recognizes it, the strange alchemy of fear and longing intermingled, and it terrifies him. Yet, as his gaze locks with yours, there's an unspoken understanding, a yearning to surrender to this unnamed emotion.

He watches the happiness blossom on your face, and it dawns on him—the decision has already been made in the quiet spaces of his heart. “Come over tonight,” he finds himself saying, the words shaped by a newfound resolve.

Your smile, open and luminous, fans the flame within him. “I thought that you were busy tonight.” 

“I will be, but you can just sit on my lap while I work, and then we’ll stay up together when I’m done. I could take you somewhere nice, yeah? Or we can just chill. Just come over. I wanna be with you. I’m sorry I haven’t given you much time in the last two weeks; that’s all gonna change. I’ll never do that again. I don’t want you to feel like you’re not my priority. Let me make it up to you, tonight and tomorrow night.”

The promises tumble from him, each one a pledge to do better, to be better. And in that moment, he means every word with a fervency that startles him. The smile that dances across your lips is a beam of pure joy, igniting a similar glow within him.

The kiss you share is intense, a physical manifestation of all the unspoken words and pent-up emotions between you. His lips press against yours with a fervor that conveys his urgency, his need to make amends. The taste of him is familiar yet charged with the electric current of your shared anticipation. You respond with equal fervor, your own desire an echo of his own.

Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. His hands roam across your back, drawing you in until there's no space left between you. The heat of the moment rises, every movement of your lips and every glide of your tongues stoking the fire. Your breaths mingle, each gasp and sigh amplifying the hunger.

The world narrows down to just the two of you, to the sensation of his body aligned with yours, the soft sounds that spill from your lips into his. You can feel his heart racing against your chest, a testament to his intensity. And even as he whispers apologies against your lips, each kiss he plants is a silent promise of more—more time, more attention, more him.

But time, relentless and unforgiving, intrudes upon the moment. Jeno breaks away with a soft, lingering peck on your cheek, an endearment whispered into the air between you. “I’m already late,” he says, and though the words are an apology, his tone carries the weight of a promise. "I’ll see you tonight. Beautiful." You nod, a smile breaking through your earlier frustrations. As he turns to leave, a sense of anticipation fills you, the promise of tonight and tomorrow holding not just his presence but the revival of the intimacy you've both missed.

──────────────────────────────

As you sit on his lap, the room hums with the sound of his focused efforts, the occasional rustle of papers and the soft clicks of his laptop keys filling the air. He's immersed in his studies, his brow furrowed in concentration, a look of determination etched across his face. Every so often, he lifts his eyes from the screen to meet yours, offering a soft smile or a quick kiss—a silent acknowledgment of your presence.

The seriousness with which he approaches his work is undeniably attractive, adding an edge of admiration to the warmth blooming in your chest. His dedication reminds you why you fell for him in the first place. It's in these moments, even amidst the silence of concentration, that you feel a deep connection to him.

Suddenly, his voice breaks the quiet, a whisper so soft it pulls you from your reverie. "Turn around," he murmurs, his tone low and inviting. You hum in response, a sound of contentment that fills the small space between you.

"I'm taking a break. Turn around on my lap." His hands guide you gently yet firmly, ensuring your cooperation without needing to push. You can't help but smile as you obey, feeling the shift of his body beneath you as he helps maneuver you to face him. The movement is smooth, almost practiced, showing his familiarity with your body. 

Once positioned, you find yourself straddling him, your gaze locked onto his. His eyes, dark and intense, pull you in, and without another word, his lips find yours. The kiss is deep and consuming, igniting a fire that had simmered quietly while he studied. His lips move with a sureness that speaks of deep familiarity and longing, each press against yours a silent message of desire.

As the kiss deepens, his hands wander up your back, pulling you closer until there's no space left between you. His touch is both gentle and demanding, a contradiction that only he could manage so perfectly. You can feel the heat of his body through the thin material of your clothes, the warmth radiating between you creating an envelope of intimacy that shields you from the outside world.

"Good girl," he whispers against the shell of your ear after your lips part for a moment. His breath is warm, tickling the sensitive skin and sending shivers down your spine. He plants a soft kiss on your cheek, his lips lingering slightly as he speaks again. "You've been so patient with me while I work, not disturbing me. I should do this more."

"Do what?" you ask, your voice a whisper that matches his own.

"Have you on my lap," he responds with a hint of mischief in his voice, his hands tightening around you slightly. 

As you lean in, eager for another kiss, he pulls back slightly, a small crease forming between his brows—a silent signal of his concern. "You okay?" he asks, his voice laced with genuine care. Your eyes narrow playfully, trying to mask the flurry of emotions his simple question stirs within you. 

"I am, yeah." You attempt to bridge the distance for another kiss, but he resists gently, his gaze piercing deeper.

"Is there something on your mind? Talk to me, baby." His words halt your motions, a gentle reminder of how attuned he is to your feelings, sometimes catching nuances you haven't fully acknowledged yourself. As he looks into your eyes, it's as if he's peering into the depths of your soul, seeing beyond the facade to the tangled mess of thoughts and emotions you've pushed aside.

His gentle probing breaks through the facade you've maintained. Suddenly, emotions you've suppressed surge to the forefront, triggered by his keen perception. It’s not merely the closeness of his body that reassures you, but how deeply he sees into you. Beyond the physical intimacy, it's his emotional attunement to you—his ability to sense and respond to your unspoken thoughts and hidden feelings. In his gaze, you find a refuge for all that you've held back, a realization dawning on you of how profoundly connected you both are, far beyond the everyday exchanges of affection.

You sigh, gathering the courage to address the tangled feelings you've harboured over the past few weeks. As someone who values open communication above all in a relationship, you feel it's crucial to not let this pattern of silence persist with Jeno, especially when he matters so much to you.

"It started when you talked to Arin after my performance," you begin, watching his reaction closely. "I appreciated how you handled it—being clear about your feelings and moving on right then and there. It meant a lot to me."

Jeno nods silently, his eyes locked on yours, signaling his attention despite the surprise that flickers briefly across his face.

"But since then, something's changed," you continue, the words flowing more freely now. "You’ve seemed distant, harder to read. I understand the pressure you’re under with exams, and I see how hard you're working. I’m really proud of you for that." You pause, ensuring he's still with you. Jeno's nod encourages you to press on.

"However, I can’t help feeling that part of the distance might be due to what happened with Arin. Has it left you feeling confused or lost? I wouldn’t know as we haven’t really talked about it, and our communication has suffered.” 

"Speaking of which," you add, shifting slightly to gauge his reaction to what you’re about to reveal, "there’s something else you should know. Do you know Jiwon?”

"Arin's best friend?" Jeno asks, a trace of caution in his voice.

You nod and Jeno lets out a huff. “Yeah, she’s a bitch.” 

You hold back your laughter and continue. “She approached me recently, and she wasn’t kind. She implied that what you and I have isn’t serious. She told me I was just keeping your bed warm, that you weren’t over Arin and that you’d always go back to her."

Jeno's expression tightens, his jaw clenching slightly as he processes your words. "Oh, that’s what that was about," he murmurs, referring to something evidently on his mind.

You're puzzled. "What?"

"I heard a rumor around campus that you hit Jiwon. I meant to ask about it but forgot. So, did you hit her?"

You laugh, shaking your head. "No, I'm not violent. I wouldn't do that."

His gaze then sharpens, becoming more serious and focused. “Listen, don’t let her get to you. Jiwon doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She’s clueless about us, about what we have. It’s so much more than she could understand.” His reassurance is firm, meant to fortify you against the doubts seeded by outside voices.

“Is it?” You couldn’t help but question, the words slipping out softer than intended.

He hummed in confusion, his eyebrows knitting together. “Is it so much more? Because there’s been no real progression in our relationship, no steps forward.”

“We’re exclusive,” he replied quickly, as if that settled the matter.

But the conversation was already veering into deeper waters. “I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if you still had some lingering attachments or feelings for Arin. She was a huge part of your history, and it’s tough to just let that go. Is that why we haven’t had the ‘what are we’ talk? Because of Arin, because of what you might still feel for her?”

He didn’t see that coming. The shift in the room was palpable.

Sitting on his lap, you fiddled with the edge of his shirt, the physical closeness contrasting sharply with the emotional distance that seemed to widen with each word. the silence stretching painfully between you. It was unfortunate, really, that despite the serious conversations and the mutual admissions of wanting only each other, Jeno hadn’t moved things forward. He hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend yet, and that omission hung heavily in the room, a silent wedge driving doubt into your thoughts.

"Are you being serious right now?" Jeno’s voice sliced through the air, his sudden movement slamming his laptop shut so forcefully it made you flinch. His expression morphed into one of disbelief and annoyance. The intensity in his fiery gaze made you wince as he faced you, his voice thick with frustration. "After everything we’ve been through, every time I’ve opened up to you, you’re really gonna accuse me of that?" His laugh was sharp, a sound you'd never heard from him before, void of humour and filled with disbelief.

You swallowed hard, the weight of your accusation—that he was still not over Arin—hanging between you. "I just—I can't think of any other reasons and you’ve been acting differently ever since you confronted Arin," you countered, your voice raised in frustration, desperate for him to understand the insecurities that his hesitations had fostered.

Jeno's stance hardened, the muscles in his jaw working as he processed your words. "This is unbelievable. You know that's so far from the truth. You crossed a line, Y/N," he retorted, his tone a mix of anger and hurt. His eyes, usually so comforting, now mirrored the storm brewing within him.

You were a bit taken aback by his reaction. Sure, you expected him to be shocked, but not angry and offended. You weren’t used to this side of him, especially when directed at you. “It’s not a bad thing, Jeno, we can move past this.” You tried to hold his hand but were met with his clenched fists, so you placed your hand on top of his, soothing out his muscles and feeling relief when you saw him relax slightly beneath your touch.

“I didn’t say that you still loved her, it’s just obvious that you’re not fully over her. But it’s okay, no one is holding you to account for it and I understand, truly. Maybe to fully get over her you have to take the leap and be with me seriously.”

“It’s— it’s more complicated than that,” Jeno murmured, his voice heavy with a mix of emotions.

The question finally slipped out, “Why haven’t you asked me to be your girlfriend?” you pressed, feeling your heart thump painfully against your ribs.

His silence was telling, and when he finally spoke, his voice was weary, “I don’t know. I’m just not ready to be in a relationship, especially after what happened with Arin.“​

The room's stillness was heavy, punctuated only by the distant hum of the city through the open window. As you breathed in deeply, your voice, though shaky, cut sharply into the silence, "Then I’m done with this, with ‘us’." Your hands motioned in the space between you two, the severity of your own words washing over you, sending tears streaming down your face.

Jeno's expression softened, the earlier anger melting into a quiet desperation as he reached for you. "Baby—" he started, voice calm, trying to bridge the gap with a kiss, but you recoiled, stepping back.

"I want something serious. I want to settle down and commit. I want a boyfriend. But I obviously can’t find that in you, so I’m walking away before I’m even more hurt than I am right now." Each word was punctuated by a sob, the tears flowing freely as the realisation of your statement sank in. Could you really walk away from him now, especially when he had become the most important person in your life? His presence had intertwined so deeply with your own happiness that the thought of severing it felt like tearing part of yourself away.

Jeno stepped closer, his voice soft and urgent, "Look at me, please." Hesitantly, you lifted your eyes to meet him, and the vulnerability etched across his features stirred a deep, aching empathy within you.

"Don’t walk away from us, not yet," he implored, his voice soft and earnest. "You mean everything to me, more than I've ever let on."

He reached for your hand, his touch gentle, seeking connection. "It’s not about her—it’s about me. I’m scared of being hurt again, of diving in and finding myself lost," he confessed, his voice thick with emotion.

"You think I’d hurt you?" you asked, the hurt in your voice mirrored in your eyes. The idea seemed to widen the chasm of misunderstanding between you.

"No, that’s not what I’m saying," Jeno quickly clarified, his tone desperate to bridge the misunderstanding. "I’m just... I’m trying to protect my heart, but not at the expense of losing you."

"Because hurting you is the last thing I would ever want," he continued, his words sincere. "Please, just give me a little more time. I promise, I’m not letting go without a fight."

He looked earnestly into your eyes. "Just wait until tomorrow night, okay? I need to show you how much you mean to me. I don’t want us to end like this. I'll make everything right."

Your heart thudded painfully at his plea, torn between the fear of future pain and the undeniable bond that still pulsed so powerfully between you. Could you dare to hope that tomorrow might bring a new beginning, or was it just another promise waiting to be broken?

──────────────────────────────

“What’s up?” you hum to Sunwoo as he looks at you with a concerned expression.

“What’s wrong? I can tell when you’re not yourself,” he responds, his voice laced with worry.

You sigh, knowing there was no hiding your feelings from him. “It’s just—I kinda had an argument with Jeno and I think we left it on good terms but I’m still scared.”

“What was it about?” Sunwoo asks, his brow furrowing slightly.

“A few things, he’s been really distant lately and about the whole ‘Arin’ thing,” you reply, hesitant to delve into the details, and thankfully, Sunwoo nods in understanding, sparing you from having to elaborate.

“Aren’t you supposed to spend some time with him tonight?” he inquires.

You nod. “I am. I’m already feeling awkward about it but I want it to be good. I want to celebrate his end of exams with him. I want him to be able to relax and I want to forget about our argument just for tonight, and then we can have a more serious conversation.”

Feeling a momentary lift in your spirits, you grin mischievously at Sunwoo. “I wanna have a good time with him tonight, and I think you can help,” you suggest, segueing smoothly into your request.

“Sooooo, you know how you’re my best friend and you love me so much that you’d do absolutely anything for me?” you tease, sneaking up behind Sunwoo and draping an arm around his shoulders.

He rolls his eyes, already anticipating the favor about to be requested. “What do you want?”

“You’re throwing a party tomorrow, right? For Yeji?” you ask, your tone playful.

A smile breaks across his features, his fondness for Yeji never a secret. “Of course, I am,” he replies, his tone carrying a mix of pride and affection—it's probably the 10th party he's thrown for her.

“To celebrate her finishing exams?” you continue, nudging him gently to keep the mood light.

He nods in confirmation, his smile still wide.

“Jeno’s finishing his exams too…” you trail off, giving him a meaningful look.

“Throw him your own damn party,” Sunwoo retorts quickly, guessing your next words before they even leave your lips.

“No! That’s not what I want,” you protest, your voice full of earnestness. You pull out a piece of paper from your pocket and hand it to him, your grin mischievous. “I’m just kindly asking if you can do all of these things before tonight.”

Sunwoo’s eyebrow arches as he scans the list, visibly taken aback. “You’re really doing all this for him?” He can't hide his surprise as he reads through the detailed list, which includes all of Jeno’s favorite snacks, drinks, and even specifics on the type of alcohol and drugs. It’s clear you’ve put a lot of thought into personalizing the party for Jeno as well.

“Just go to your usual dealer; I’ll send you the money once you’ve got them,” you plead, your voice a blend of determination and hope.

He pauses, looking at you with a mix of admiration and skepticism. “Are you guys boyfriend and girlfriend yet?” he probes, his tone teasing yet serious beneath the surface.

You beam at him, your face alight with hope and a touch of nervous excitement. “I wanna ask him tonight,” you confess, your expression one of innocent trust, eyes sparkling with adoration for Jeno. Your enthusiasm is infectious, and even Sunwoo can’t help but feel a bit moved by your dedication.

──────────────────────────────

The evening had started with a flutter in your heart, excitement flowed through every motion as you prepared for what was supposed to be a memorable night. Each stroke of the makeup brush on your cheeks, each swipe of mascara was laden with anticipation. The mirror reflected back a hopeful version of yourself. Tonight isn’t just any night; it’s the night you’ve been counting down to, the night when all the pieces are supposed to fall into place with Jeno.

In your bedroom, the air was perfumed with your favourite scent, a subtle floral that Jeno had always loved. The dress you slipped into was a soft, figure-hugging mini that he had picked out on one of your dates, remembering how his eyes lit up when he saw it on you. It was more than just fabric; it was a reminder of his taste, his touch, his presence. As you adjusted the straps, the silky material felt like a whisper against your skin, each movement a call to the night’s potential.

Descending the stairs to the living area, every detail you had arranged caught your eye and tugged at your heartstrings. Jeno’s favourite snacks were arrayed meticulously on the counter, his preferred drinks chilled to perfection, the soft glow of the ambient lighting setting a cozy, inviting scene. 

As the doorbell rings and guests start to fill the space, the atmosphere shifts from quiet anticipation to vibrant festivity. Laughter rings out, glasses clink, and music swells—a perfect backdrop for what was meant to be a perfect evening. But as hours slip by, your smiles begin to stretch too thin, your laughs sound too forced. With each passing moment, the weight of Jeno's absence grows heavier.

Leaning against the wall, your phone felt like a leaden weight in your clutch. The screen lit up with each anxious glance—no new messages. Your heart sank a little more with each passing minute. Mingling through the crowd, you tried to engage, to be present, but the buzz of conversation around you felt distant, muffled by the growing dread that he might not show up.

"Hey, enjoying yourself?" Sunwoo nudges you with a smile as you both lean against the wall, watching the crowd.

"Yeah, so much," you reply, your voice hollow. You want to tell him, spill everything about how you're waiting for Jeno, how he promised he'd be here, but the words cling to the back of your throat, unspoken.

As the party hits its fifth hour, reality settles like a cold shadow across your spirit. He's not coming. He forgot. The realisation severs the last thread of hope you were clinging to, and quietly, you retreat to your room, away from the noise, away from the reminders of what tonight was supposed to be.

The transition was brutal. The hallway to your room seemed longer than ever, each step heavier than the last. Inside, the dimly lit space greeted you with its meticulously planned romantic ambiance now feeling like a stage set for a play where the lead actor would never show. The candles flickered, casting shadows that danced mockingly on the walls. The playlist you had carefully curated played low in the background, each song a reminder of what the night could have been.

Your gaze inevitably drifts to the corner where you had arranged everything just for him. Among the glowing candles and cozy ambiance lay several small baggies, each containing Jeno's favorite drugs and pills—a special treat you had secured to celebrate the end of his exams and enjoy together. The sight of them, still untouched, hurts, you had carefully chosen each one, you paid attention to his likes yet he didn’t show up. 

You hadn't touched a drop of alcohol all night, resisting the temptation of the freely flowing drinks at the party. You wanted to be fully present, fully aware, to take care of him, to celebrate with him, to be there for him in every way you could..

Sitting on the edge of your bed, you dialed his number again, the ringing tone echoing in the hollow room. No answer. The phone fell from your hand, landing softly beside you. Around you, the soft fabric of the pillows, the dim glow of the candles, spoke of a solitude that was both physical and emotional. The tears come then, unchecked, the sobs shaking your shoulders as you curl up amidst the pillows. You try his number again, the sound of the ring hollow in the quiet room.

He promised. 

Outside, the party raged on, oblivious to the quiet devastation unfolding just floors above. The contrast between the external joy and your internal desolation painted a vivid picture of your current reality. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration of beginnings, yet it felt like an acknowledgment of an ending.

As you lay there, curled in the darkness of your room, the decorations you'd so carefully arranged transformed into stark reminders of your solitude. In the silent echoes of the night, you were left to confront the painful realization that perhaps you were never as significant in Jeno's life as he was in yours.

The door creaks open, and Eunji’s concerned face appears in the doorway. She doesn’t say a word at first; she simply walks over and envelops you in a warm embrace. As you lay your head on her lap, the floodgates open, and you let the tears flow freely.

“What happened? Is it Jeno?” Eunji’s voice is soft, filled with worry.

Between broken sobs, you manage to speak. “He was—he was supposed to meet me but he never showed up.” You tell her everything that’s been on your mind, things you’ve kept caged inside: how you planned this to celebrate the end of his exams, how excited you were for tonight, and how you’ve felt his growing distance these past weeks.

Eunji strokes your hair gently, her touch soothing. “Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry,” she murmurs, handing you tissues and letting you cry it out without judgement.

Nayoung bursts into the room just then, her expression turning from concern to outrage as she pieces together the situation from the remnants of your tear-streaked explanation. “I’m gonna kill him,” she declares, kneeling in front of you with fierce protectiveness.

You can’t help but let out a weak giggle, despite the tears, as Eunji and Nayoung begin to playfully argue about how to handle the situation.

“If you give me the word, I swear I’ll march right over there and knock some sense into him. Heck, I’ll threaten to cut off his hands and his cock with his own engineering tools if that’s what it takes to show him he can’t treat you like this!” she exclaims, her voice a mix of frustration and protectiveness.

Eunji immediately interjects, her tone soothing yet decisive. “Let’s take a breath here, Nayoung. Threatening violence isn’t going to help anything. We need to think clearly and not let anger cloud our judgment.”

“But he’s making her miserable!” Nayoung argues, waving her hands emphatically towards you. “Someone needs to teach him a lesson, and it needs to be loud and clear.”

Eunji sighs, her expression softening as she looks between you and Nayoung. “I know he does, I really do. But let’s focus on being here for Y/N. Adding more chaos to the storm won’t help her heal.”

Nayoung grumbles but sits down next to you, her energy simmering down slightly. “Fine, but I’m serious. If you just nod once, I’m out that door to give him a piece of my mind. Who forgets a night like this after everything she’s done for him?”

Eunji gently squeezes your hand, her voice warm and reassuring. “We’re right here with you, for whatever you need. It’s perfectly okay to let it all out. Cry, get angry, express how you feel. We won’t leave your side.”

Nayoung’s earlier fire turns to a gentle firmness. “And hey, if yelling at him ever seems like the right move, just give me a nod. I’ve got plenty of volume for the both of us.”

Nayoung’s expression turns serious as she holds your hand tightly, her usual bravado giving way to a look of concern. “I need to show you something,” she says, her voice soft and hesitant.

She pulls out her phone and opens Instagram, scrolling through a series of stories posted by Jeno's friends. Handing you the phone, her touch lingers, as if unsure whether to let go. As you watch, a timeline unfolds, capturing a night that diverges sharply from the one you had planned together.

The photos and videos start innocently enough, with Jeno and his friends toasting to the end of exams. He had told you about this part—just a few drinks to celebrate their freedom before he was supposed to come over. But as you swipe through the stories, the images reveal a night that quickly spiralled beyond a simple celebration.

Each update shows Jeno progressively more engulfed in the festivities. He’s laughing loudly, surrounded by a crowd of equally drunk friends. The videos show them clinking glasses repeatedly, the table cluttered with empty bottles—a clear sign of the night’s excesses. Jeno appears increasingly carefree, his eyes bright with the uninhibited joy of the moment, so drunk and visibly high, completely absorbed in the revelry around him.

The pain of seeing him this way—so lost in a moment that doesn't include you—cuts deeply. Tears cloud your vision as the realization sinks in: he was too caught up in his own fun to remember his promises to you.

You cover your face with your hands, unable to watch anymore, as sobs shake your body. “I hate him,” you manage to whisper, each word choked out between cries of heartbreak.

Nayoung wrapped an arm around you, her presence a comforting counter to the sharp sting of the images, trying to lighten your heart with a gentle joke. But you couldn’t muster a laugh, not with your heart in such turmoil. “We had an argument last night… it got quite tense, but I thought we aired it out; he even promised to make things right the next night,” you explained through tears, your voice trembling. “What if he’s angry at me because of what happened and what I said to him?” The worry in your voice was palpable, the fear of his anger making you second-guess the harsh words that had passed between you.

Nayoung holds up her phone hesitantly, knowing there’s more you need to see. “Y/N, I’m not done…” she murmurs, her voice thick with sympathy. She swipes to a new set of photos, and there’s Arin, looking effortlessly stunning among a couple of her friends. They’re laughing, sipping drinks, the glow of the party lights casting a radiant sheen on her face. Your heart sinks further, the pain twisting like a knife as involuntary sobs wrack your body once again.

But Nayoung quickly interjects, her tone turning analytical, a sharp contrast to the emotionality of the moment. “They aren’t together in any of these pictures,” she points out firmly. “And I can text some people who can tell me if they were close tonight. They’ll tell the truth.” She types rapidly on her phone, her brow furrowed in concentration.

The longest few minutes of your life crawl by until Nayoung’s phone buzzes. “Okay, so Winter messaged me back. You know Winter, right? The really sweet and shy girl who’s always with Karina? She doesn’t drink much, so we can trust her word.” You nod, urging her to continue with a desperate glance.

“Okay,” Nayoung exhales with a measure of relief. “She told me that Arin and Jiwon just kind of turned up unannounced. Nobody really wanted them there. Everyone was pretty hostile and cold to them, especially Jeno and his friends. Apparently, they kept a good distance the whole night, and Jeno acted like she wasn’t even there.”

Your breath hitches at the news, a mix of relief and residual pain swirling within. Nayoung quickly adds, “Ooohh, okay, Karina also messaged me back.” She sighs, reading the new message. “Karina said that Arin kept trying to get close to him, to push into his space, but Jeno was having none of it. Even though he was high, he kept telling her to back off, literally saying, ‘Get the fuck away from me’ and ‘Don’t fucking touch me.’”

Your eyes widen slightly, processing this new information. Yet, despite the assurances, a hollow feeling lingers. “That doesn’t make me feel any better,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

Nayoung nodded, her expression softening in understanding. “I honestly just think he made a stupid mistake,” she said thoughtfully. “He’s not a bad guy, and we all know that. Obviously, he needs to be more mindful, and he deserves the cold shoulder from you for a while to realise the impact of his actions.” Her words, meant to be comforting, still left room for your conflicted emotions to simmer.

Nayoung’s words hung in the air, giving you a bit to ponder, but it was Eunji who broke the silence, her voice as soothing as ever. She squeezed your hand gently, offering a calm anchor in the storm of your emotions. “Whatever you need, we’re here for you,” she assured you with a warm smile. “We can eat all his favorite snacks, drink his drinks, and talk all night. Or we can just sit here quietly. You tell us what you need.”

Nayoung nods, her earlier anger now replaced with a somber, supportive silence, and Eunji pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around you. The three of you sit in a quiet huddle, the noises of the party fading into the background as you lean on each other for support in the dim light of your room, finding solace in the presence of friends in a moment fraught with heartbreak.

“I wanna get high,” you whisper suddenly, a stark contrast to the comforting scene. You rise from the huddle, your hands shaking slightly as you reach for the baggies you had set aside for Jeno. Each packet crinkles under your fingers, the sound unusually loud in the tense silence.

Nayoung and Eunji exchange a glance, concern etched deeply on their faces. “Y/N, maybe that’s not the best idea right now,” Nayoung says, her voice soft but firm.

Ignoring their caution, you briskly fix your makeup, trying to wipe away the trails of tears, preparing to face the remainder of the party with a different kind of numbness. “I need to forget tonight, just for a little while,” you mutter as you pocket the pills.

Descending back to the party, the lights and music assault your senses, a vivid contrast to the dark stillness of your room. You start downing shots, the alcohol sharp on your tongue, each swallow a burn that you hope will erase the sharp edges of your hurt. The pills in your pocket feel like a promise of further escape, a temporary relief from the pain that now consumes you.

After what feels like hours, your senses dulled by the mix of pills and alcohol, a sudden stir pulls you from the haze. There he is—Jeno. His arrival slices through the crowd, an unwelcome shock to your numbed heart. He’s not alone; a swarm of his friends buzz around him, their laughter and cheers a stark contrast to the heavy silence you've wrapped around yourself. They are celebrating, oblivious to the wreckage of your evening, to the fact that he's already too late.

You turn away sharply, a reflex to shield your heart from further damage. The sight of him brings a rush of anger and hurt, emotions you're not ready to face. You don't care why he's here now; his presence feels like an intrusion, a painful reminder of what you'd hoped this night would be.

Moving to a quieter corner of the party, away from the boisterous group, you try to disappear into the shadows, to find solace in solitude. But the fragments of overheard conversations tug at your attention.

"Jeno! Man, chill!" It's Jaemin's voice, laced with stress and concern. You glance back, catching a glimpse of him running a hand through his hair, his expression one of someone who didn’t plan to spend his night this way. He’s dressed casually, as if he’d been dragged here against his will, but he came for a reason—Jeno.

From the snippets you catch, it's clear Jeno is far from alright. He’s staggeringly high, more lost to the world than you've ever seen him before. Jaemin tries to manage him, to somehow bring him back from the edge where he teeters. The scene paints a picture of chaos, of a night gone terribly wrong. Jeno had lost control, spiraling in a way that none of his friends had anticipated.

The party's clamor surrounds you, a din of laughter and music that feels alien to your current mood. "Y/N," a voice calls out, tugging you back to the present. It's Jaemin, his expression marked with concern.

You manage a weak smile, your gaze darting anywhere but into his eyes. A surge of anger bubbles within you, though you remind yourself that Jaemin isn't the one to blame.

"Have you seen Jeno?" he asks. 

You shake your head, your response terse. The less you say, the better you can manage the simmering frustration.

"Did you throw this party for him?" Jaemin probes, his eyebrow arched in suspicion.

"No. It’s Sunwoo’s party," you reply, sharper than intended. The last thing you want is for anyone to know this was all for Jeno—a party he never even planned to attend.

"You don’t need to lie to me, you know. You did all of this stuff for him," Jaemin continues, his voice softening as he glances at the table laden with Jeno’s favorite drinks and the pills protruding from your pocket. "I bet you’re even wearing some pretty lingerie under—"

"I’m not," you interject, cutting him off before he can finish. The humiliation of it all is too much to bear.

"And he only showed up now?" Jaemin's voice is tinged with disbelief.

You nod, unable to muster the energy for more words.

Jaemin sighs, his eyes filled with a mix of disappointment and apology. "I know it won’t mean much coming from me but I’m really fucking sorry. That’s not fair, and you don’t deserve that from him. Don’t worry, I’ll tell him, I’ll make sure he makes things right—"

"Please don’t," you interject, your voice small yet pleading. "It’s embarrassing. Seeing how much effort I put in all to be stood up... I just want to forget about it all. I don’t want him to know. Please promise me you won’t say a word."

Reluctantly, Jaemin extends his pinky. You know you can trust him, and he solemnly agrees with a pinky promise.

"I’m not trying to justify what he did, because it’s unacceptable and he needs to make things right. He needs to realize that on his own," Jaemin continues, his tone serious. "But he’s been really focusing on his exams these last few weeks, shutting out everyone, even me. He’s been an academic weapon. He hasn’t smoked, gotten drunk, or done drugs since exams started, so I guess tonight was his blowout. He always goes overboard when exams finish. When he’s that high, not a single thought goes through his mind."

"That doesn’t make anything better," you reply coldly.

"I’m sure he was supposed to meet you and go but forgot, like genuinely. It doesn’t make anything better, but I’m sure it was an actual mistake from him. It wasn’t intentional. I know Jeno; he’s not a bad guy. He wouldn’t do that for no reason," Jaemin insists, trying to offer some solace, however small.

"Tell him not to call or talk to me from now on," you say, the finality in your voice echoing your resolve.

"Come on, he really likes you," Jaemin tries again, but you're already walking away, distancing yourself from the conversation and the painful realities it confirms. As you merge back into the shadows of the party, Jaemin's words linger, but they do little to mend the ache that has firmly settled in your heart.

The music thrums through the room, each beat a relentless echo of the night’s unraveling. You’re still reeling from the conversation with Jaemin, your mind a tangled mess of anger and sorrow. In your haste to escape the intensity of the moment, you turn sharply, your movement quick and unthinking. The sudden motion sends you crashing into someone. Stabilizing yourself, you look up, ready to apologize, but the words die on your lips as your eyes lock with Jeno’s.

It’s him. The very person who’s at the center of your turmoil, standing right in front of you, almost as if fate had cruelly steered you into his path. His presence strikes you with the force of an unexpected wave, overwhelming and disorienting. For a second, the world seems to slow down, the noise of the party fading into a dull roar in the background. 

He looks so good it hurts. There’s an effortless charm to him even now, disheveled as he might be, with his t-shirt slightly askew revealing a hint of his collarbone, and those jeans that always seem perfectly fitted, suggesting the contours of his toned legs. His hair, usually neatly styled, hangs loosely around his face, strands falling over his forehead in a way that somehow highlights the sharpness of his cheekbones and jawline.

He’s a vision, undeniably handsome—every inch the kind of distraction that has always drawn you in, despite tonight’s circumstances. His eyes, though dilated and clouded slightly by his indulgences, still hold that familiar warm glint when they meet yours, making it hard for a moment to remember the disappointment simmering inside you.

"Hi baby," he says, his voice smooth despite the noticeable slur, his words tumbling into one another yet filled with a warmth that pulls at you. He reaches out, attempting to pull you into his embrace, his movements confident yet slightly uncoordinated.

You instinctively start to lean into the comfort he offers before the reality of the evening snaps you back. "Go and fucking touch Arin," you retort sharply, pushing against his chest, forcing some physical distance between you as a barrier to the emotional torrent threatening to spill over.

Jeno pauses, his arms still outstretched, his expression morphing from affectionate to puzzled. "What? No, it’s you I—"

"Don't," you cut him off, the firmness in your voice belying the ache in your chest. The sight of him so carefree, so unaffected, stirs a tumult of emotions within you. His shirt, slightly lifted from the motion, reveals just a hint of the abs you've traced so many times, a reminder of the many moments of intimacy now overshadowed by the night’s revelations.

"I'm here for you," he continues, his voice earnest, a stark contrast to the blithe disregard his actions have demonstrated. His eyes try to meet yours, searching for an in, but you divert your gaze, unwilling to get lost in the depths of blue that have always seemed to see right through you.

He’s beautiful, infuriatingly so, and even now, clouded by substances, there’s a sincerity in his effort to connect that makes your resolve waver. But the hurt of being forgotten, of being secondary to his celebrations, hardens your heart once more.

Your heart throbs painfully against your ribcage, a silent echo of the night’s crushing disappointment. You stare at him, the dim party lights casting shadows across his handsome features, deepening the hollows of his face, and for a fleeting moment, you see the boy you fell for, not the aloof figure before you.

With a sharp intake of breath, you turn away, leaving him in the swirl of the party, his image etched into your mind like a bittersweet photograph. The conflict between the pull of your heart and the weight of your disappointment leaves you reeling as you step back into the crowd, away from the warmth of his confused gaze.

──────────────────────────────

The house had emptied out, the noise and chaos of the party finally fading into a strained silence, only punctuated by Sunwoo’s concerned gaze fixed on you. “What the fuck happened?” he asks, his voice laced with worry as he hands you a glass of water, his gestures pointedly trying to ground you back to sobriety.

“Go to my room,” He mutters, the words slipping out before you fully register them.

Sunwoo follows, once in the comfort of his room, you spill everything and he listens, his expression a mask of patience and anger as you unravel every thread of the evening—the plans you had made for Jeno, the crushing disappointment, the despair. You tell him everything, each confession punctuated by a shared understanding of past comforts and missed connections.

He wraps an arm around you, a familiar gesture that feels like a lifeline. “Get some sleep,” he murmurs.

“Can you stay here?” you whisper, your voice small in the vast quiet of the room.

“Yeah, I can, it is my room.” Sunwoo replies, already tossing a pillow onto the floor to make himself a makeshift bed.

“I meant next to me.” The words are out before you can stop them, a raw, needy whisper in the dark.

He laughs, a disbelieving sound that fills the space between you. “Y/N—”

But you’re already moving, driven by a surge of loneliness and a desperate craving for something to fill the void Jeno left. Your lips crash against Sunwoo’s, a fierce, messy kiss that cuts him off mid-sentence. You pull him down, and he lands heavily on top of you, his body instinctively responding to yours. It’s not the first time; there’s a rhythm to your desperation, a remembered path of least resistance.

You’re moving together now, a dance of old habits as you straddle his lap, grinding against him in a rhythm that’s as familiar as it is forbidden. You start to peel his top off, caught up in the momentum, but he catches your hands, his grip firm.

He pulls back sharply, the motion almost violent in its intensity. “Y/N, we can’t—” His voice is ragged, breath hot against your face.

“I’m really hard, so please get off my lap,” he adds, a strained chuckle belying the tension in his voice. You can feel his arousal, a hard line against your inner thigh, a testament to the physical response he can’t control.

Reluctantly, you slide off him and curl up beside him, wrapping your arms around yourself against the chill that seems to seep into your bones. He notices, draping a blanket over your shivering form.

“Why?” The word is more of a sob than a question, hurt coloring your tone. “Nothing has ever stopped us before.” 

“Because you’re upset at him, and this isn’t the way to deal with it,” Sunwoo says gently, the earnestness in his voice making you look at him. “You need to talk to him instead of trying to fuck me.”

You frown, frustration and confusion mingling with the remnants of desire. “I’ve come to you crying a hundred times in the past, before Jeno, and you always used to fuck me to make me feel better, so why won’t you do it now?” Your voice is raw, each word a slice of vulnerability.

“This was our thing,” you continue, the history between you spilling out in a rush. “We used to come to each other whenever we were stressed or upset and used to fuck each other for release. Remember the amount of times I’ve sucked your cock because something pissed you off so you’d always show up at mine or call me over?”

He laughs, a sound that’s half nostalgia, half resignation. “Yeah, and why do you think we’re both shitty at dealing with emotions?”

“I’m not shitty at dealing with emotions—” you start to argue, but he cuts you off.

“Y/N, all of the fucking is left in the past. You should know that. I’m trying to be with Yeji, and this won’t help anything. I know how hurt you are, just, let’s watch your favorite show, okay? I promise I won’t leave you alone, but I can’t fuck you, not now.”

Resignation washed over you as you nodded slowly, the fight draining out of you as the reality of his words settled in. Together, you settled under the blanket, the TV flickering on as you leaned against him, his presence a steady comfort in the swirl of your chaotic emotions.

──────────────────────────────

──────────────────────────────

Sunwoo flings the door open, his face a mask of barely contained fury. His hands are balled into fists at his sides, his whole body rigid with the effort to keep his anger in check. The air is thick with tension, every muscle in his frame poised for a confrontation.

Jeno’s eyes are pleading, and he starts to speak, his voice thick with urgency, “Please let me see her—”

That’s all it takes for Sunwoo’s restraint to snap. His hands shoot out, fingers tangling in the fabric of Jeno’s shirt, pulling him close with a jolt. He pins Jeno against the door with a force that echoes through the silent hallway. Jeno, for all his faults in this moment, offers no resistance. There’s a glimmer of acknowledgment in his eyes—he knows he’s earned this.

Sunwoo’s voice is a low growl, his words like bullets. “You fucked up. I’ve never seen her this upset.” Each word is punctuated by a shake, Jeno’s head knocking softly against the door.

Sunwoo’s voice drops to a hiss, venomous and revealing. “She was serious about you. She even stopped fucking and sucking my cock when she started seeing you and trust me, she’s never done that for any guy before. But she did it for you, we both agreed to stop our meaningless fucks whenever we were horny and needed a release… and this is how you treat her? After all the patience and kindness she’s shown you? After she opened up her heart to you? You’re fucking pathetic. A fucking idiot.”

Jeno’s voice breaks through the tension, rough with emotion, “You’re the one who’s fucked her?”

Jeno had always suspected, in the back of his mind, that there was history between you and Sunwoo. He’d noticed the way you both interacted, a familiarity that went beyond mere friendship. Your closeness with Sunwoo was obvious — the personal jokes, the way you’d lean on him, the comfort in each other’s space. He’d never brought it up; after all, it was your past, and he had no place digging into it.

Yet, now, faced with the stark reality, it hit him harder than he anticipated. Sunwoo’s words, dripping with contempt and protectiveness over you, ignited a blend of anger and guilt in Jeno. He knew — he’d always known, really — that whatever you and Sunwoo had shared was purely physical, a no-strings-attached arrangement. But the raw jealousy that clawed at him now was unexpected, unwelcome.

He grappled with the images his mind conjured, unwanted scenarios of you seeking comfort in Sunwoo’s arms, just as you had in the past. It was a bitter pill to swallow, realizing that his actions, his neglect, may have driven you back into a familiar orbit, one that he could not stake any claim over, not anymore. The mere possibility that Sunwoo might touch you again, that you might seek solace in the intimacy you once shared, stung him with a sharp sense of loss.

In a desperate plea, his words tumbled out, a mix of demand and weakness, “Please don’t touch her. Don’t fuck her.” His voice broke, betraying the turmoil beneath his usually composed exterior. He was in no position to make requests, to set boundaries, and he knew that. But the heart doesn’t heed such logic.

Sunwoo’s response was curt, a reflection of his disdain. “She’s sleeping. She’s not okay, and it’s all because of you.” The gravity in his voice was a sobering slap to Jeno’s conscience. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew Sunwoo was right. It was his fault, and the road to redemption seemed like a steep climb from the abyss he’d stumbled into.

Sunwoo steps back, releasing Jeno completely, leaving him to grapple with the gravity of his missteps. In the quiet aftermath of their confrontation, Jeno stands alone, the corridor stretching out endlessly before him, a physical representation of the distance he’s put between himself and you.

There’s a pounding in his head, a relentless drumbeat of guilt, and the sobering knowledge that he’s just stumbled upon a crossroads. One wrong move has the potential to unravel everything he holds dear. And as he stands there, he knows the path to redemption is steep and uncertain, but it’s one he must walk if he hopes to make things right.

──────────────────────────────

Jeno has been different since you. 

Donghyuck watched Jeno from across the kitchen table, stirring his noodles absentmindedly. The transformation in Jeno was stark and troubling. Gone was the uplifting spirit that Donghyuck was used to; in its place sat a withdrawn figure, his eyes often glazed over with a distant, pained look.

Jeno still hung out with them, but there was a palpable distance, a barrier he had put up. He would listen, occasionally engage, but his laughter was rare and his departures early. Even now, sitting across from him, Donghyuck felt the gap, as if Jeno was miles away instead of just across the table.

Jeno sat hunched over his food, his usually sharp eyes dulled, mindlessly swirling noodles around his fork. His usual vibrant demeanor had dimmed noticeably since your departure. Donghyuck eyed him with a mix of concern and mischief, catching the drift of his friend’s mood.

“So, I heard your girl is available now, you guys broke up?” Donghyuck teased, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, his eyes twinkling maliciously.

Jeno’s reaction was instant; his expression turned icy, a chill settling over his features as he shot Donghyuck a look that could freeze boiling water. “No? You just said she’s my girl, didn’t you?” His voice was low, carrying a warning that was impossible to miss.

Undeterred by the serious tone, Donghyuck leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “I have a master plan, do you wanna hear it?” Silence hung in the air, Jeno’s disinterest palpable, but Donghyuck plowed ahead regardless. “I’ll fuck her for you—”

“What the fuck? No. How the fuck is that for me? You’re talking about putting your disgusting dick in my girl and you’re saying it’s for me?” Jeno’s anger flared, his words sharp as knives.

Donghyuck chuckled, unfazed by the hostility. “Nah, man, I’ll be so shit in bed and I’ll purposefully not make her cum, so she’ll want to go back to you because I know you’ve made her squirt, filthy boy!!” He slapped Jeno on the back, trying to coax a smile with his twisted logic.

For a fleeting second, a smirk twitched at the corner of Jeno’s mouth, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a scowl. With a swift motion, Jeno smacked Donghyuck across the back of his head. “Your fucking plan to bring my girl back to me is by having sex with her? Fucking dumbass. Don’t fucking touch her. If you do as much as look her way, it won’t be good.”

Donghyuck’s demeanor shifted slightly, his voice lowering to a more earnest tone. “It’s not me you have to worry about.” He leaned back, eyeing Jeno seriously. “Apparently, Y/N is trying to move on from you.”

Jeno’s eyes narrowed, his jaw setting tight. “Apparently she’s texting guys all over campus,” Donghyuck continued, the smirk returning as he watched Jeno absorb the information.

“Your girl is hot. She’s getting attention from a lot of guys on campus, everyone wants to fuck her, and apparently she’s actively looking for that, to move on.” Donghyuck’s words were calculated, designed to provoke, and Jeno could feel the sting of each syllable, a mix of pain and rage building within him.

“What kind of guys are chasing after her?” 

“Hyunjin, Felix, Yangyang, Yeonjun to name a few,” Donghyuck rattles off casually, observing Jeno's reaction closely.

Jeno's expression hardens at each name—each one synonymous with casual flings and fleeting interests. These weren't the type of guys he wanted around you, especially not now.

“If they touch her, I swear to God...” Jeno's voice trails off into a growl, his hands clenching instinctively.

Donghyuck smirks, sensing the protective surge in his friend. “You’d make them regret it?” he probes, his tone teasing but with an undercurrent of seriousness.

Jeno only nods, his jaw set firm, the muscles in his neck tensed with the restraint of his anger.

“Want me to warn them off?” Donghyuck offers, his smirk widening slightly.

“Don’t make it a big deal, just subtly let them know that Y/N is off limits,” Jeno instructs, his tone serious. He pauses, a conflicted look crossing his features. “But I want her to be happy, you know? Maybe... maybe get someone decent, like Soobin, to take an interest. Someone who'll treat her well,” he adds, almost reluctantly, but with a clear desire for your happiness shining through his troubled expression.

──────────────────────────────

Donghyuck had definitely made it a big deal. 

Another dry response, another guy who wasn’t interested. Frustration simmered beneath your skin as you threw your phone aside in anger. This pattern was becoming all too familiar. You’d messaged guys across campus, your intentions blatantly clear: you were looking for a quick, no-strings-attached release. Yet, each time, your openness was met with disinterest. No one seemed to want you; no one seemed eager to take you up on your offer.

“Another guy turned you down?” Nayoung asked, her voice laced with concern as she popped a pill and casually tossed it back. You both sighed heavily, the disappointment hanging heavy in the air.

Tonight, you’d both dressed in your most enticing outfits—short, curve-hugging skirts that ended just at mid-thigh, paired with matching crop tops that left little to the imagination. Your hair was done up in loose, carefree waves that framed your faces beautifully, enhancing the sultry makeup that accentuated your features. Every detail was meticulously planned to enhance your appeal, from the glossy finish on your lips to the smoky shadow around your eyes.

Despite the rejections, you couldn’t deny the power of your own reflection. Standing there, you both looked irresistible, the embodiment of desire and confidence. Yet, the night’s efforts seemed in vain, the cool rejection from your phone screen clashing sharply with the hot allure of your appearance.

Now, more than anything, you just needed someone to rip this outfit off your body. Since Jeno left, you’d been craving something—anything—to fill the void, and you hadn’t been touched in so long. You just wanted cock.

As you and Nayoung readied for the party, taking your fill of the pills she’d brought, the two of you posed for some seriously sexy photos. You were in the midst of adjusting your top when Nayoung suddenly made a noise as if she’d just remembered something important.

“I forgot to tell you!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide as she turned to you. “I did some asking around campus, and I think I know why guys haven’t been reciprocating your want to fuck them.”

You turned to her, curiosity piqued. “Why?”

“Okay, hear this,” she began, leaning in closer as if sharing the juiciest secret. “Apparently, Donghyuck made a joke to Jeno about wanting to fuck you, and Jeno got all protective, warned Donghyuck not to ‘touch his fucking girl.’ Then Donghyuck mentioned that other guys had their eye on you since you and Jeno broke it off—like the notorious fuckboys, Hyunjin and Yeonjun, not the sweet ones like Jeno. You know, the ones that only want your pussy and once they have that, they’ll throw you to the side and disregard you. I fucked Yeonjun once, and he didn’t even make me cum; he just fucked me to make him cum.”

“What’s your point?” you ask, shaking your head as Nayoung’s gossip draws a smirk from you despite the irritation brewing inside.

“Yeah, so basically,” Nayoung continued, “Jeno told Donghyuck that if those guys ever lay a fucking hand on you, they’d regret it. And Donghyuck, being the shit-stirrer he is, spread that around campus. Jeno is scary when he’s mad—he can really make you regret doing something when he warns you not to. So, I guess they listened to him and stayed away from you.”

You hissed with anger, fists clenching as you paced slightly. You should’ve known. It had been him all along. “He’s the one behind this? I’m seriously gonna strangle him.”

Nayoung burst out laughing at your reaction. “I’m so fucking hot and sexy, and all the guys on campus know that, yet they’re not going for me because of Jeno. Fucking hell, Jeno, when I get you…” You mimed a strangling motion with your hands, your frustration palpable.

“You’re the new buzz on campus, a lot of guys want you, especially after seeing how sexy you and Jeno looked together. But Jeno scared them all away, even if he didn’t do it intentionally. That’s how much power he has,” Nayoung mused.

“He’s so fucking annoying,” you muttered, shaking your head.

“He’s quite possessive, isn’t he?” Nayoung added with a smirk, popping another pill and watching you with a mix of amusement and sympathy.

“I know he’s trying to look out for me, and part of me can’t help but find that kind of possessiveness kind of hot… It's like he still cares, a lot. But it’s also frustrating that it’s scaring everyone else off.”

Nayoung's eyes flicker with curiosity as she watches you pause, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. "Do you think Jihoon would be scared of Jeno? I mean, he dated Winter, right? I'm sure he knows how to make a girl feel good—" you muse out loud, seeking her opinion before committing to send the message.

“Aren’t you seeing Soobin?” Nayoung interjects, her eyebrows arching in surprise at your continued exploration of options. Her voice is tinged with a mix of amusement and concern.

“Yeah,” you mumble, the word barely more than a whisper, your enthusiasm waning at the mention of Soobin.

“So, you’re messaging other guys because Soobin’s bad in bed?” Nayoung's tone is playful yet probing, as she connects the dots.

You burst out laughing, nodding in agreement, the humor momentarily easing the tension. “Exactly.”

Nayoung hums thoughtfully, tapping her lip. "It’s weird to me that Soobin wasn’t scared off by Jeno. He’s actively trying to pursue you. Does that mean he’s the only guy who isn’t intimidated by Jeno?”

Shaking your head, you reply, "I don't think so." The situation puzzles you as much as it intrigues Nayoung.

“Maybe Jeno didn’t warn him because he thinks Soobin’s too cute to be a threat,” Nayoung suggests, a smirk playing on her lips. “He probably doesn’t expect Soobin to hurt you.”

You scoff, the frustration bubbling up again. "He may be cute but he can’t do shit in bed. We've had sex but it's barely sex. He has no technique, just sticks it in and expects magic to happen. He doesn’t know how to use it. Sure, he’s got a big cock, not as big as Jeno’s, but impressive. Yet he doesn’t know how to make a girl come, and he can't even kiss properly. I’ve tried dropping hints, even suggested he watch porn, tried to get Eric to give him some tips, but nothing changes. He’s just so bad, Nayoung."

Nayoung laughs, a low chuckle. “Yeah, you don’t even make a noise when he’s over.”

“Exactly, I don’t even try to fake it. He should get the hint, but he doesn’t. And he’s too sweet for me to just outright tell him, learn how to use your cock.’ It’s frustrating.”

Nayoung leans in closer, her voice lowering conspiratorially. “You were so loud whenever Jeno was over.”

You nod, the memories vivid and insistent. “Jeno knows how to make me feel good,” you admit, a pang of longing colouring your voice. It’s a reluctant admission, laced with the ache of missing him—the way his touch electrified your skin, the assuredness of his hands roaming over you, knowing just how to drive you wild.

“The way he used his fingers,” you continue, your voice dropping to a whisper, “and his lips… God, I miss how he made me feel.” Your body reacts just at the thought, a warm flush spreading across your skin. “He had this way of pulling me close, his grip strong yet so careful, as if I was something precious.”

Nayoung watches you, her expression a mix of sympathy and curiosity. “And his cock,” you add, your voice thick with desire and frustration. “He knew exactly how to use it, every thrust just right. It’s been so long since I’ve been touched like that… touched the way Jeno used to touch me.” The words spill out, unfiltered and raw.

You lean back, your eyes closing as you allow yourself a moment to dwell on the vivid images of past encounters. “I just need that again, Nayoung. I’m so fucking horny and frustrated. I need to feel wanted, to be devoured, not just… touched absentmindedly.” Your hands clench in your lap, the physical manifestation of your inner turmoil.

“I need a release, a real one,” you say, your eyes opening, meeting Nayoung’s with a fierce, almost defiant look. “I need someone who can make me forget, even if just for a night.” Your voice is firm, the edge to it cutting through the playful atmosphere that had lightened the earlier part of your conversation.

Nayoung nods, understanding your needs without judgment. “Let’s find you that someone then,” she says, her tone supportive, ready to dive back into the night with a renewed mission, to help you find the release you so desperately crave.

──────────────────────────────

Walking into the bar, the familiar clamor of laughter and music greets you, but it’s Donghyuck’s voice that cuts through the din. “Girl, I’ve missed you!” His arms wrap around you in a tight embrace that lifts the lingering shadows of the past weeks.

“So have I!!!” Your words come out slurred, the warmth of the reunion melting the coldness of recent days. You’d been avoiding him, unfairly linking him to Jeno’s actions, but realising your anger was misplaced had brought you back to him, someone who had unexpectedly become one of your closest friends.

Soobin is there too, awkwardly waiting his turn. His greeting stumbles out, “You—woah—you—so pretty.” You muster a polite smile and murmur thanks, his gaze flickering over you with polite admiration but lacking the intensity you crave.

If this was Jeno, his reaction would be unmistakable. He’d probably gasp, taken aback by how stunning you looked, his eyes greedily taking you in. He wouldn’t be shy about it; his hands would find their way to your ass and your thighs almost instinctively, his touch bold and admiring. Whispering a stream of compliments, he’d make you feel irresistibly sexy, especially when you dressed provocatively, his appreciation both vocal and palpable.

Nayoung leans closer, her voice low. “Jeno’s here.” Her eyes flicker with concern. “He’s staring at you. Do you wanna stay or go?”

A sigh escapes you; of course, Jeno would be here. Donghyuck had mentioned it might turn into a larger gathering before moving on to Sunwoo’s party. You allow your gaze to meet Jeno’s for a brief moment, taking in his undeniable allure. He looks irresistible, the dim bar lights casting shadows that accentuate the contours of his face, making him appear both mysterious and impossibly handsome. His reaction to seeing you is palpable; you catch the sharp intake of his breath, his eyes widening slightly as he takes in your appearance.

“No, it’s okay, I can deal with him,” you assert, settling into the role of the provocateur. Perching yourself on Soobin’s lap, you make a show of laughing a little too loudly, your hand casually brushing against the exposed skin of your thigh. It’s a performance, each movement calculated to draw a reaction from Jeno.

Leaning back into Soobin, you shift subtly, feeling the fabric of your top stretch tight across your chest, accentuating your curves. Every adjustment seems accidental but is steeped in intent. Casually, you gather your hair, twisting it into a high ponytail as you catch Jeno’s gaze. You know he loves it when your hair is up, exposing the slender curve of your neck and the delicate line of your shoulders. As you secure your hair, you tilt your head slightly, a silent invitation for his eyes to wander over the places he used to kiss. Your movements on Soobin’s lap are deliberate, a slow grind that suggests more, ensuring Jeno is acutely aware of every provocative shift of your body.

Was it petty? Perhaps. Did you care? Not in the slightest.

As the night progresses, you catch Jeno’s gaze locked on you multiple times, his expression a mixture of nostalgia and something darker, perhaps jealousy. He converses with others, his laughter ringing out, yet his eyes betray a distance, a detachment from the mirth around him.

You revel in the attention, the power of making him watch, unable to touch, to engage. It’s a cruel game, but after everything, it feels like a justified rebuke for the pain he’s caused.

Soobin was incredibly timid; even with you sitting on his lap, his hands hadn’t dared to explore. They remained awkwardly at his sides, as if he was unsure of what to do next. In sharp contrast, if this had been Jeno, his approach would have been entirely different. His hands would have confidently roamed over your thighs and ass, his touch assured and provocative. Jeno would have already whispered sultry promises into your ear, his fingers skillfully bringing you to climax, each move calculated to draw out the deepest moans of satisfaction from you.

Frustrated by Soobin’s passivity, you slipped off his lap with a swift, fluid motion and sauntered over to the bar to drown your dissatisfaction in alcohol. As you waited for your drink, a searing gaze burned into your back. Turning around, you caught Jeno’s eyes fixed on you with an intensity that scorched. His stare was predatory, unlike Soobin’s uncertain glances, igniting a thrill of excitement through you. His gaze traced the contours of your body so fervently that you could almost feel his touch.

You followed his stare down to your ass and realized he wasn’t even attempting to be subtle; his eyes were glued to you, unashamed and raw. You gasped, taken aback by his audacity, yet a part of you reveled in the attention.

With a few heated steps, you closed the distance between you, standing defiantly in front of him, arms crossed. Jeno met your gaze with a playful grin, as if he wasn’t just caught staring at you.

“Were you just checking out my ass?” you challenged, your tone a mix of amusement and accusation, your eyes narrowing slightly to match the teasing yet confrontational energy of your stance.

He responded with disarming honesty, his eyes locking onto yours, not even flinching as he admitted, “Not the first time and won’t be the last.”

Your frustration bubbled into a huff, and you shook your head, at a loss for words for a moment, before you pointed an accusatory finger at him and sharply said, “No!” as if scolding a misbehaving dog, the irritation mingled with an unspoken delight at his undivided attention.

You turned on your heel to walk away, but not without adding a final flair to your exit. Casually, you tugged your skirt up slightly, just enough to give Jeno a fleeting but tantalizing glimpse of more. Over your shoulder, you shot him a mischievous smirk, ensuring he caught every bit of the provocative gesture.

His response was immediate—a sharp intake of breath as he bit his lip, a classic sign of restrained desire. His eyes, dark and intent, tracked every movement you made, clearly affected by the provocatively playful challenge you'd thrown at him. The smirk that played on your lips grew wider as you savored the visible effect you had on him. Feeling bold and empowered by his reaction, you turned on your heel, giving your hips an extra sway just for him, pulling up the hem of your skirt ever so slightly as you glanced back with a teasing smirk. Leaving a visibly flustered Jeno to stew in the heat of the moment you had just ignited, you walked away, the thrill of the encounter sending a pleasurable shiver down your spine.

As you mingled effortlessly with his friends, Jeno's gaze held a mix of frustration and admiration from across the room. Every laugh and gesture you shared with the group only highlighted your comfort and charisma, adding to the allure that seemed to captivate everyone, including him. Despite the noise and energy around him, his attention was firmly on you, his thoughts a blend of appreciation and yearning.

Throughout the night, your vibrant energy seemed to draw more people into your orbit, leaving Jeno somewhat isolated, his eyes following your every move. The way you interacted with his friends, the ease with which you laughed and danced, struck a chord within him, a reminder of the connection you once shared. Occasionally, your eyes would meet, and you’d offer him a playful yet distant smile, a nod to your shared past and the complex feelings that lingered.

With one final glance that night, you caught Jeno looking your way. Instead of another teasing gesture, you gave him a soft smile, acknowledging the undeniable tension. Returning to the laughter and conversations around you, you left Jeno with his mixed emotions, the distance between you both more poignant than ever.

──────────────────────────────

The party was alive with energy, vibrating with the pulse of loud music that filled the crowded room. Flashing lights painted the dancing crowd in waves of color, each flash cutting through the dark like a strobe. The atmosphere was electric, everyone letting loose, their semester’s stress dissolving into a night of wild fun.

Bodies pressed close in the dim light, moving with a rhythmic intensity that pulsed through the crowded room. Flashes of skin glinted under the strobe lights as revelers danced provocatively, their movements suggestive and unabashed. Couples lingered in the darker corners, their embraces deep and lingering, lips locked in fervent kisses. The air was thick with the scent of perfume and sweat, a tangible reminder of the night’s indulgence and the uninhibited release of pent-up desires.

As you entered, Sunwoo was the first to greet you, planting warm kisses on your and Nayoung’s cheeks—a customary greeting that felt comforting amid the chaos. Yeji was next, her arms wrapping around you in a tight hug, and the two of you exchanged rapid-fire compliments, each one amplifying the night’s festive mood.

While mingling, Sunwoo leaned in close, his voice barely above a whisper over the music. “Jeno’s here,” he murmured with a concerned glance, “do you want me to get him out?” 

You shook your head, offering him a thankful smile. “It’s okay, I can handle him tonight,” you assured him, feeling a mix of apprehension and determination.

The dance floor was a whirl of bodies, and you and Nayoung were right in the thick of it, high both on the atmosphere and the subtle assistance of the night’s earlier indulgences. The two of you danced provocatively, uninhibited and playful, your hands occasionally grazing each other’s bodies—over hips, across backs, and playfully squeezing at asses and boobs. 

Soobin, on the other hand, seemed lost on the edge of the action. His awkwardness was almost palpable, his eyes wide as he tried to figure out where he fit into this display of carefree debauchery. It was becoming increasingly frustrating to watch him just stand there, not knowing how to engage with the wild energy you and Nayoung thrived in.

As the beat of the music dipped into a sultry rhythm, Nayoung’s touches turned more daring, mimicking the kind of attention you had been craving. Her fingers danced along your curves, a teasing precursor to the more intimate contact to come. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned in closer, her lips hovering just inches from yours. The tension between you built with the thumping bass, both playful and charged with an unspoken dare.

You could feel the heat of her breath, mixed with the laughter and shouts of the party-goers around you, creating a bubble that seemed to encompass just the two of you. With a smirk, Nayoung closed the gap, her lips meeting yours in a soft, lingering kiss that was more than just a peck but less than a promise. It was flirtatious, a hint of sensuality wrapped in the guise of jest, drawing a few cheers from those nearby. You both break away at the last second with giggles, unable to take the gesture seriously.

Soobin, all flushed and visibly aroused from watching you and Nayoung playfully dancing, tapped your shoulder, a hesitant offer in his voice. “Hey, can we go to the bathroom?” His attempt at sounding seductive fell flat, failing to stir the excitement within you that he was probably hoping for. Nevertheless, you agreed, hoping against hope that perhaps this time would be different, that somehow he’d find a spark of passion that matched your own urgent desires.

As you entered the bathroom with him, the reality of the situation set in quickly. There was no need to even lock the door; there was little risk of your moans being overheard because, simply put, there wouldn’t be any. Soobin’s attempts at pleasing you were lackluster and uncoordinated. As he tried to navigate what he thought was pleasurable, his movements were uncertain and ineffective, lacking the assured touch that could drive you wild. His technique was so basic and mechanical, merely going through the motions without any real understanding of how to build intensity or respond to your body’s cues.

The disappointment was crushing. Not a single man since Jeno had managed to truly satisfy you, to make you come alive with desire. Self-pleasure had been a poor substitute for the intoxicating physical connection you had experienced with Jeno, whose every touch, every kiss, was perfectly attuned to your needs.

“Please go,” you found yourself whispering to Soobin when it became too much to bear, your tone firming up when he didn’t react immediately, “Please get out!” The words were harsher than you intended, driven by a cocktail of frustration and desperation.

Soobin looked up, his expression one of wounded confusion. “What’s wrong? Was it not good?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

You shook your head, softening slightly at his genuine naiveté. “I just need to be by myself for a while,” you explained, forcing a smile to lessen the blow of your rejection. He nodded, hurt but understanding, and exited quietly, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts and unmet needs.

In the solitude of the bathroom, the stark reality hit you once again. No touch, no encounter had come close to what you had with Jeno. The absence of that deep, fulfilling connection left you longing, your body crying out for a touch that seemed now more distant than ever.

The reality of your unfulfilled desire weighed heavily on you. You wanted to cum, needed to feel that overwhelming rush, the kind that leaves you breathless and satiated. More than that, you longed to feel loved, to be touched in a way that made every nerve in your body come alive, igniting your senses like a firestorm.

You miss Jeno. 

Driven by a mix of frustration and raw need, you reached a decision. It might have seemed foolish or impulsive, but in that moment, it felt like the only option left. You were high, your body was tingling with a sexual frustration that couldn't be ignored, and every fiber of your being ached for Jeno. 

Your hands trembled as you pulled out your phone. With each shaky breath, you navigated through your contacts until his name appeared. It was crazy, perhaps, but desperation had a funny way of pushing you to the edge. You missed him terribly—not just his touch, but his presence, his intensity, the way he made you feel utterly alive.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the message screen, your fingers hovered over the keyboard, your heart pounding with a cocktail of dread and anticipation. You typed out his name, a simple but loaded gesture that felt like a crossroads:

He didn’t respond right away, and you were left staring at the screen, wondering if he’d seen your message or simply chosen to ignore it. Your heart raced with a mix of anticipation and disappointment, the tension building with each passing minute. In an attempt to distract yourself, you began scrolling through old messages—a habit you had found yourself indulging in more often than you cared to admit.

Your thumb paused over a particularly enticing thumbnail, a video he had sent weeks ago during a particularly steamy exchange. The memory of it alone was enough to make your pulse quicken, but you needed more than just memories tonight. You tapped the play button, and the screen filled with the explicit image of Jeno pleasuring himself, his hard cock prominent and demanding attention.

As the video played, your eyes were glued to the rhythmic movements of his hand along his length. His cock was impressive—thick and veined, the head flushed and glistening with pre-cum. It was a sight that had always driven you wild, and tonight was no exception. His moans filled the room, low and husky, each breathy sound a direct line to your core.

You couldn’t help but let out a loud moan at the sight, the sound of your own voice mingling with his from the speakers. Watching him like this, so vulnerable and unabashedly turned on, sent a wave of heat through your body. You imagined what it felt like to have him inside you, the stretch and fill of him, the way he moved with such a perfect mix of urgency and precision.

As you watched him bring himself closer to the edge, his hand moving faster, his moans growing louder, you felt a deep, aching need uncoil within you. You reached down, your fingers tracing the lines of your own arousal as you mimicked the actions on the screen. The thought of being the cause of his pleasure, the focal point of his desire, was intoxicating.

You were so lost in the moment, so caught up in the raw, palpable sexuality of it all, that the rest of the world seemed to fade away. It was just you, the flickering light of your phone screen, and the undeniable evidence of his desire for you. It was overwhelming, it was carnal, and it was exactly what you needed to feel connected to him once more, even if just through a screen.

Before conscious thought could catch up, your hands were already making their way beneath the delicate lace of your underwear. With a swift motion, you hitched up your skirt, giving yourself easier access. Your fingers slid effortlessly along your slick folds, exploring the wetness that had gathered in eager anticipation.

You dipped a finger inside yourself, relishing the warm, tight sensation that enveloped it. The feeling was electric, a direct line of arousal shooting through your body as you added another finger, stretching yourself deliciously. You mimicked the rhythm you saw on the screen, your movements becoming more deliberate and urgent.

As you pumped your fingers in and out, the slick sounds of your own wetness mixed with the visceral audio from the video, creating a symphony of arousal that echoed around the room. Each thrust of your fingers hit just the right spot, sending jolts of pleasure radiating through your core. You angled your fingers, seeking that sweet spot that always made your breath hitch. When you found it, you massaged it fervently, spiraling towards an overwhelming crescendo.

Your breathing became labored, matching the heavy, lust-filled breaths that filled the room from the video. The tension in your lower belly wound tighter and tighter until you were teetering on the edge of release. With a few more expert flicks of your wrist, you tumbled into a powerful orgasm, your body convulsing with wave after wave of intense pleasure. As you rode out the sensations, your mind was filled with vivid flashes of being beneath him, of Jeno’s own heated expressions as he moved within you, his cock driving you towards ecstasy just as your fingers were now.

In the aftermath, you lay breathless, a sheen of sweat coating your skin, the lingering buzz of your climax slowly ebbing away. You were left flushed and satisfied, yet the ache for his actual touch—his body against yours—remained poignant, a stark reminder of the physical connection you both shared and deeply missed.

Jeno’s entrance into the bathroom is marked by a dark, mocking glint in his eyes, his gaze instantly locking onto your exposed, quivering form. The air thickens with tension and raw desire as he takes in the sight of you—fingers paused, breaths shallow, your arousal evident and inviting.

“Oh? What do we have here?” His voice is laced with a blend of mockery and unmistakable hunger, the words rolling off his tongue slow and deliberate. He steps closer, the deliberate echo of his footsteps mingling with the rapid beat of your heart, his piercing eyes devouring the sight of your exposed, slick arousal.

You try to find your voice, but all that escapes is a breathy, involuntary moan. Your eyes, heavy and lust-drunk, meet him with a plea silent yet screaming.

“Why did you stop? Keep going, show me.” he commands, his voice low and merciless, dripping with sadistic satisfaction. “Touch yourself, show me how desperate you really are,” he commands, his tone dripping with sadistic pleasure. 

Compelled by his words, your hand drifts back between your thighs, resuming the slow, deliberate circles around your clit. Each movement sends jolts of pleasure radiating through you, and you moan louder, more unabashedly. Jeno watches intently, his lips curling into a smug, satisfied smile.

As you continue to touch yourself under his demanding gaze, Jeno watches intently, his breathing growing heavier. The room fills with the sound of your moans, each one echoing off the walls, driving him wild. He bites his lip hard, a low grunt escaping him as he watches you writhe in pleasure.

“Fuck, look at you… so needy, so desperate,” he growls, the raw desire in his voice palpable. He can’t help but adjust himself, his hand moving to the growing bulge in his pants, squeezing it through the fabric. His eyes never leave your trembling form as he begins to massage himself, his movements becoming more pronounced as his excitement builds in response to your unabashed display.

Your fingers quicken, driven by his gaze and the filthy encouragement falling from his lips. “Please, Jeno, please touch me,” you whimper, the frustration and need tangling into a sharp, sweet ache.

Jeno’s smirk widens, his gaze sharpening with a sadistic pleasure. “No,” he drawls, his voice low and commanding. “Beg for it properly. Show me how much you want it, how desperate you are. What’s the magic word, princess?” His tone teases, challenging you to humble yourself further in your plea for relief.

 “I need you, Jeno, please…” you gasp, your voice breaking with desperation.

With each stroke, each swirl of your fingers, you feel yourself spiraling closer to the edge. His words, degrading yet oddly affectionate in their own twisted way, push you further, heightening every sensation until you’re teetering on the brink of release.

Overwhelmed by the building crescendo of your arousal, you finally shatter under his watchful eyes, a loud moan escaping as waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you shuddering and spent, yet craving more. Jeno’s expression, a mix of satisfaction and insatiable hunger, tells you this night has only just begun.

As your breaths begin to even out and you attempt to gather some semblance of composure, Jeno’s gaze shifts towards the bathroom door, which remains slightly ajar—an oversight you hadn’t noticed in your frenzied state. His eyes narrow slightly, the earlier amusement mingling now with a sharper, more commanding tone.

“You left the door open? Really?” His voice is both teasing and scolding, rich with disapproval. “Look at you, so desperate and whiny that you couldn’t even remember to close it. You really weren’t thinking at all, were you? Just a desperate cum slut needing attention so badly you forgot the world outside.”

You feel a flush of embarrassment heat your cheeks, mixed with the residual warmth of your climax. The open door, a detail so minor yet so risky, underscores just how reckless your need had made you.

Jeno steps closer, his body nearly touching yours, his breath hot against your ear. “That’s what you are, isn’t it? Too desperate for my cock, for my touch, to even care who might see? You’re lucky it was me who walked in and not someone else.” His fingers trace a slow, deliberate path down your arm, sending shivers across your skin.

“Would you have stopped if it were someone else, or would you have let them watch you fall apart?” he murmurs, his words a taunt that digs deeper into your psyche, making you squirm under his intense gaze.

The implication of his words, the idea of being so exposed, so out of control, only adds another layer to the complex tapestry of humiliation and arousal that Jeno weaves around you. You find your voice, small and breathy, “I… I didn’t mean to—”

"Quiet," he commands sharply, his hand swiftly connecting with your cheek in a firm spank. The sudden sting sends a shiver through you, causing you to gasp as a wave of blissful shock rolls through your body.

“You’re only mine to watch, remember that,” he adds firmly, the possessive edge in his voice leaving no room for argument. The door remains open, a silent testament to your oversight and his control, adding yet another thrilling element to the night’s already charged atmosphere.

"We're going to play a game," he announced, his tone commanding as he laid out the rules with a wicked grin. "We watch each other. No touching." His strokes matched the rhythm of your own hand as you both fell into a silent contest of wills, each movement more desperate than the last.

"If you lose first," he murmured, voice strained as he held back his own climax, "you’re going to suck my cock. And if I lose," he paused, a deep growl punctuating his words, "I'll eat you out right here on this countertop."

The challenge was intoxicating. You felt every stroke echo through your body, each moan slipping from your lips pushing him closer to the edge. His eyes, dark and intense, never left your face, watching every flicker of pleasure that passed over your features.

The game had been a torturous delight, and losing felt almost as exhilarating as the anticipation of winning.

As you moaned Jeno’s name, your hands couldn’t resist the magnetic pull toward him. Your fingers wrapped around his firm, eager cock, your touch bold and hungry, driven by an intense need.

"Baby,” he breathed out, his voice husky with arousal as he watched the slick evidence of your pleasure glisten. The sight was too much for him to simply observe passively. He unbuckled his belt, his actions deliberate, pulling out his cock swollen with need. With slow, tantalizing movements, he began to stroke himself, his gaze fixed intently on your quivering form.

Your breath caught in your throat as you lowered yourself, eyes fixed on him, drawn irresistibly to his arousal. You brushed your lips against the tip of his cock, savouring the hint of his arousal, your moans soft against his skin. Your movements were deliberate, filled with the desire to take him into your mouth, to feel him deep and completely.

But Jeno’s firm grip on your chin halted you, his dark eyes piercing yours with a commanding intensity. “Not yet,” he murmured, his voice low and firm. “You seem eager… But remember, you only do what I say, when I say.”​

"Open your legs," he murmured, his voice low and seductive as he guided you back up to stand before him. He kissed your inner thighs softly, each kiss closer to your heat, building anticipation. His breath was hot against your skin, each exhale sending shivers down your spine as he teased you mercilessly. 

“Climb up here,” Jeno commands, his hands gripping your hips firmly to help hoist you onto the cold marble countertop. The sharp contrast between the cool surface and the warmth of your flushed skin sends another shiver through you, heightening your anticipation. His fingers linger on your thighs, squeezing gently as he adjusts your position, ensuring you’re perfectly displayed before him.

"Tell me, who’s been lucky enough to have you since I've been gone?" he asked, his voice a deep whisper against the sensitive folds of your arousal. His words were a deliberate provocation, designed to unravel you completely. 

You shook your head, breath hitching, "No one but you,” the lie slipping out amidst your shaky breaths as you struggled to maintain composure under his intense gaze.

Jeno paused, his eyes searching yours for a moment longer than necessary, the corners of his mouth twitching as if deciding how to interpret your words. “Are you sure about that?” he asked, his tone soft yet edged with a faint trace of skepticism, almost teasing yet earnest enough to deepen the fluttering in your chest.

You nodded, the words slipping out in a quiet whisper, shy to say it, acting extra shy and timid. “Yes, daddy,” your voice barely rose above a whisper, each word trembling slightly as if afraid of being fully heard.y” 

Jeno’s smirk deepens as his hand moves with intense purpose, each motion reflecting his hungry desire. His fingers tighten around himself, every touch deliberate and charged with raw passion. Biting his lip, his eyes never leave you, burning with a lust that’s both fierce and unabashed. “Say that again. Louder,” he commands, his voice a deep growl, thick with need and the urge to hear you once more.

Driven by the intense atmosphere, you scream out, “Daddy!!!” Your voice is louder, laden with your own undeniable longing and the palpable sexual tension that crackles fiercely in the air between you. Your call is passionate, filled with a raw, aching need that resonates powerfully in the charged silence that follows.

Jeno smiled, a knowing, wicked curve of his lips before he dipped his head. His tongue traced the delicate lines of your folds with expert precision, his movements deliberate and focused. He savoured the taste of you, his moans vibrating against your skin as he expressed his approval of your flavour. The room filled with the sounds of your wetness and his persistent licks.

Every flick of his tongue sent electric shocks that radiated from your core to every part of your body. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, holding you open, utterly exposed to his hungry gaze and eager mouth. Your hands found his hair, pushing him closer, guiding him to the spots that made your body arch and your breath catch.

"Daddy," you gasped, the edge approaching rapidly as his tongue swirled around your clit, then pressed flat against it, the change in pressure dragging a loud moan from your lips. He intensified his efforts, encouraged by your responses, his own arousal palpable in the urgency of his actions.

As you neared your climax, your voice broke, "Please, Daddy, please," your plea barely a whisper, yet it echoed in the small space, filled with the steam of your desire.

In the heat of the moment, your actions became wild and uncontrolled. Each thrust of your hips against Jeno’s face was driven by raw desperation, your body chasing the climax that tantalized you just at the brink. His expert tongue worked relentlessly, drawing moan after moan from your lips as he explored every fold with precision. The room spun around you, filled with the sounds of your labored breathing and the wet, slick noises of his devotion.

As your pleasure mounted, your movements grew more frantic. You ground yourself against him harder, each movement more urgent than the last, effectively face-fucking him in your need to reach that peak. Jeno, undeterred, met each of your thrusts with a surge of his tongue, pushing you closer to the edge.

But the wildness of your actions came with consequences. In your fervor, you lost track of your balance. Suddenly, the world tipped sideways. Jeno’s grip on your hips faltered, and the two of you were sent crashing backward in a tangle of limbs and breathless laughter. The abrupt fall didn’t dampen the fire between you; if anything, it stoked it further.

Lying on the floor now, Jeno’s expression mixed frustration with raw desire. His voice was rough, tinged with both admonishment and lust as he spoke. “Only good girls deserve to cum,” he chided, his hands steadying your shaking form. “You’re being too needy.”

Yet, the smirk that danced across your lips betrayed your enjoyment of this chaotic intimacy. His next command was a growl, thick with promise, “Sit on my face.”

Scrambling to comply, you positioned yourself above him once again, your heart pounding with anticipation. As you lowered yourself onto his eager mouth, his hands firmly guided your hips, setting a punishing rhythm that you eagerly followed.

His tongue resumed its fervent dance, exploring you deeply, each stroke a deliberate provocation. You rode his face with abandon, each movement more deliberate, grinding down to meet his upward strokes. The sensation of his lips and tongue, combined with the urgent grip of his hands, drove you towards delirium. The room echoed with the sounds of your mutual desperation, a symphony of slick, muffled noises and your increasingly sharp moans.

His tongue and lips worked in unison to bring you to the brink. And when he added a finger, curling it inside you, hitting that sweet spot, you shattered, your body convulsed in an intense orgasm, and you felt yourself squirting forcefully. A burst of warmth splashed across Jeno’s face, streaking down his cheeks and chin in rivulets. He maintained his position, his mouth and tongue still at work as the surge drenched him, his face slick and shining with you. 

His initial shock morphed into a broad, triumphant grin as he reveled in the wet, messy evidence of your pleasure. His eyes sparkled with a mix of pride and arousal, fully immersed in the raw, erotic display of your climax.

Jeno’s strong hands guided you down gently, ensuring your shaky legs found stability before pulling you onto his lap. Your hands, still trembling from the aftermath of your release, found his hair, gripping it tightly as you leaned in close. Your lips met the slick, wet trails that your climax had left on his skin, tasting yourself on him—a mingling of sweet and heady that made your head spin.

His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you impossibly closer as your hands roamed, dragging nails along his scalp, eliciting a rough groan that vibrated against your lips. The kiss wasn’t just a clash—it was a claim, each of you hungry for dominance, for the reassurance that this connection was as unbreakable as ever.

From the intense tangle on the bathroom floor, Jeno’s eyes locked with yours, filled with a fiery determination that signaled a shift. He stood abruptly, his strong hands gripping your arms, pulling you up with him. Without breaking eye contact. Jeno’s hands gripped your hips, he forcefully spun you around to face the wall, your hands pressing flat against the cool, reflective surface of the mirror.

He hoisted you slightly, just enough so your feet barely touched the ground, your body bent at a perfect angle for him to enter. As he positioned himself behind you, his presence loomed large, and his cock teased at your entrance before he thrust forward, burying himself deep inside you with a primal urgency.

The cold glass of the mirror kissed your skin, contrasting with the heat emanating from every pore as Jeno began to move. His thrusts were deliberate and rough, designed to remind you of his control and your surrender. With each deep penetration, he grunted, a low sound filled with both satisfaction and dominance. His hands moved from your hips to your hair, tugging your head back to expose your throat, which he leaned in to bite gently, marking you as his.

“Look at us,” Jeno commanded, his voice thick with arousal. Your eyes fluttered open to meet his gaze in the mirror. The sight was raw—your body bent, his hands claiming you, your expressions twisted with pleasure. “No one fucks you like I do, isn’t that right?” he taunted, punctuating his words with a sharp slap on your ass, the sound echoing in the small room.

You moaned, the sting from the slap tingling pleasantly as he continued to drive into you. “Yes, Daddy, that’s right,” you gasped, the mirror fogging slightly with the heat of your breaths.

He leaned forward, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re so fucking hot like this,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. Without warning, he spat directly onto your back, the sudden wetness stark against your heated skin. His hand followed, spreading the saliva smoothly across your skin, a cold contrast to the warm press of his body. This deliberate act heightened the raw intensity of the moment, each movement slick and unrelenting.

Jeno’s gaze captured yours in the mirror, his eyes glinting with fire as he turned your face to meet his. He studied your flushed, overwhelmed expression with a satisfied smirk. His hand then cupped your chin, tilting your head back as he forcefully opened your mouth. Without breaking eye contact, he spat directly into your mouth, the act bold and commanding. Quickly, he sealed his lips over yours, his kiss swallowing your gasps, merging the sharp tang of his dominance with the heat of your shared arousal.

The mirror captured every raw emotion, every hungry gaze, magnifying the intensity of the moment. As Jeno’s hands roamed over your body, exploring, claiming, you watched, captivated by the sight of his muscles flexing with each movement. His grip tightened, and suddenly he was moving you, one hand splayed across your chest, the other gripping your hip, controlling the rhythm.

Then his hand clutched at your hair, yanking it back to arch your neck sharply, exposing your throat to the cool air of the room. The sudden, assertive pull sent a rush of adrenaline through you, heightening every sensation. His other hand encircled your throat, his hold firm and unyielding, squeezing just enough to send a thrilling rush of danger through your veins. This mix of pain and pleasure, the sharp tugs and the constricting grasp on your neck, amplified every sensation, making each thrust feel deeper, more desperate.

Jeno tightens his grip around you. His forearm presses firmly against your throat, locking you securely under his control. You feel the strength of his arm, each muscle taut and alive, as he manoeuvres you, anchoring you in place with a confident hold. His body is flush against yours, his chest heaving against your back with each breath, his movements precise and intent on keeping you precisely where he wants you.

As the intensity grew, he reached around to press a firm hand against your throat, squeezing gently, heightening every sensation. “I want to hear you say it,” he growled, his breath hot against your ear. “Tell me you’re mine.”

Shuddering under the dual assault of his cock and his hand, you managed to reply through ragged breaths, “I’m yours, only yours.”

Satisfied, Jeno released your throat and focused on driving you toward climax. His thrusts became erratic, more desperate. He pulled you up against him, your back flush with his chest, and his fingers found your clit. As he rubbed in tight circles, his other hand wandered over your body, exploring every curve with a possessive touch.

Just as you felt your orgasm looming, he bit down on your shoulder, a sharp, sweet pain that sent you over the edge. Your legs trembled, and your body clenched around him as you came hard, your cries loud enough to draw curious looks from outside the bathroom. But the sound of your pleasure was drowned out by Jeno’s own climax, his hot release filling you as he groaned your name.

The bathroom door remained ajar, forgotten in the heat of the moment. A curious crowd began to gather outside, drawn by the unmistakable sounds of ecstasy echoing from within. Nayoung and Eric, vigilant and protective, stood guard. Nayoung’s eyes flashed dangerously at anyone who dared get too close, her stance aggressive and ready.

As murmurs and whispers filled the hallway, Nayoung turned her gaze towards Arin, who stood a few feet away, her face a mix of shock and curiosity. With a wicked grin, Nayoung leaned closer to her, her voice loud enough for only Arin to hear but with a sharpness that cut through the buzz. “You hear your boyfriend who loves you so much screaming out that he loves Y/N’s pussy?” Her tone was taunting, the words a deliberate jab meant to twist the knife of jealousy and claim.

You and Jeno have parted ways, but not before he takes you against the kitchen countertop and the walls of one of the spare bedrooms. Now, you find yourself unable to walk around properly, each step a reminder of the fervent and fleeting moments shared in the throes of passion.

As you navigate the crowded party, the weight of your recent actions with Jeno hangs heavily on your mind, but the high from the encounter keeps the reality at bay. Every step reminds you of how good he fucked you, leaving you with a mixture of satisfaction and discomfort that makes it hard to walk properly.

You overhear whispers and can feel glances thrown your way—Nayoung wasn’t exaggerating when she said that the entire party heard you two. There’s a flush of embarrassment that should be creeping in, but it’s overshadowed by the buzz of the high and how vividly good Jeno made you feel.

As you try to steady yourself, your eyes catch Sunwoo and Yeji in a tender, ‘wrapped-up-in-each-other' moment. That spark of jealousy flares again. They seem to have what you long for but can’t quite grasp—genuine connection and unwavering affection. Observing them together stirs a mix of longing and regret inside you.

Your mind flashes back to the night you tried fuck Sunwoo, an impulsive act driven by loneliness and perhaps too much to drink. The guilt starts to seep in as you consider the potential fallout of your actions—how close you came to complicating their relationship. You’re relieved now, thankful that Sunwoo didn’t reciprocate your advances. They deserve happiness, the kind that’s free from the turbulence of your current state.

──────────────────────────────

Nayoung's compliments fill the room as she applies the final touches to your makeup, her skilled hands enhancing your natural beauty. She opts for a sultry look: a subtle smokey eye that makes your gaze captivating, paired with a nude lip gloss that adds just the right amount of shine, complementing your soft curls. 

As you giggle and blush at her flattery, the nervous excitement for the upcoming performance bubbles within you. The show tonight is to the biggest audience you’ve played to yet, it’s monumental,—not only for the band but for you personally as it’s the first time you’re performing a solo. 

You’re wearing a black sheer top with a plunging neckline and flowing sleeves that billow with each movement, you slip on a black mini skirt that’s both short and incredibly tight, clinging to your curves in a way that makes you sigh in pride. It's a look designed to captivate, to announce your presence unapologetically as you take the lead mic for the first time.

As Nayoung skillfully applies the last of your makeup, her hands move with a familiar ease that only a best friend's touch could provide. "You're so pretty," she declares, each word a testament to the care she's put into helping you look your best.

Her continuous compliments send a warm flush across your cheeks, the kind of bashful response that has always come so naturally to you in moments like these. "Nayoung!" you giggle.

With a grateful smile, you meet her gaze in the mirror and say sincerely, "Thank you."

Eunji strides in, a grave look etched across her face, slicing through the casual atmosphere of the room. “Hey, have you seen this?” Her voice is heavy with concern as she places a comforting hand on your back, the other holding her phone out. “I normally ignore this group chat, but Yeji insisted I check it out.”

A message flashes across the screen, a taunt from Arin: "Me and Jeno are nearly back together ;)"

A laugh, bitter and hollow, bubbles up from your throat. "She’s so delusional. She’s completely out of touch with reality, it's almost amusing," you snort, though the humour doesn't quite reach your eyes. "Look, that’s an old photo, from two years ago. Jeno would never go back to her."

"Are you sure you’re okay with this?" Eunji's voice pierces through the quiet, her eyes probing, concerned.

"With what?" Your response is automatic, faint, the words barely a whisper as you mask the turmoil beneath.

"With you and Jeno being fully done." Her tone is gentle, coaxing out your true feelings.

"Yes," you reply, a little too quickly, a little too sharply. It's a lie you tell yourself as much as you tell them, a facade to protect your crumbling resolve.

After the party, where lines blurred under the influence of alcohol and a high that made the world seem less daunting, you and Jeno crossed paths in a way that was meant to be fleeting—just sex, a declaration of it being a one-night mistake, despite the undeniable connection. You’d insisted it was nothing more, even if every touch argued otherwise. It was supposed to be just a slip, a lapse in judgment not meant to mean anything, yet the memory of how right it felt lingers, challenging your assertions with silent, persistent whispers.

Tears well up, blurring your vision, threatening to break the dam of your composure. You blink them back furiously, determined not to let them see how deeply you're cut, how raw you still feel. The façade cracks just a bit, but you shore it up swiftly, desperate to appear unshaken.

"Apparently Arin is coming to the show tonight," Nayoung mentions, tactfully shifting the topic to distract you from the lingering sadness. Both of you roll your eyes in unison, sharing a brief, knowing laugh. "I think she’s more obsessed with you than Jeno at this point," she adds, her tone light, trying to inject some humor into the situation.

"And Jeno is coming," Eunji chimes in, her smile cryptic, a mischievous twinkle in her eye that you can't quite interpret. You shake your head, dismissing the notion with a wave of your hand.

"He won’t be there," you say flatly, the idea seeming almost absurd now.

"Didn’t he promise he would?" Eunji presses, her voice gentle yet probing, reminding you of commitments made under different circumstances.

"Yeah… when we were together. We’re not anymore," you mumble. 

──────────────────────────────

You should’ve known. 

Jeno isn’t one to break promises, especially not to you. His commitments are etched in stone—unyielding, devoted. Every action he's taken, every word he's spoken to you has been filled with an honesty and depth that few can muster. And tonight, he's here, just as he said he would be, a steady figure in the flux of faces, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on you from the audience.

As you take the stage, the weight of his gaze is like a warm blanket over your shoulders. It's here, in this bustling venue filled with the echoes of chords and melodies, that you feel his support envelop you. The lights cast shimmering halos around you, but none shine as bright as the look in his eyes—a blend of admiration and quiet sorrow for the distance that has grown between you, yet filled with hope.

He agreed that the two of you probably needed time away. He needed time to think, to realise what he truly wanted, and to fully understand and appreciate his feelings towards you and how real and serious they were.

Jeno stands beside Jaemin, lost in the sight of you commanding the stage, his gaze locked on you with an intensity that even Jaemin notices, chuckling softly at his friend's undisguised adoration. There's a softness in Jeno's eyes, a warmth that spreads through his chest as he watches you. He hadn't realised just how deeply he missed you until this moment, seeing you shine so brightly in your element, your confidence cascading over the crowd like a wave. 

Every note you sing, every move you make, seems to draw him in further, and he can't help but smile, a genuine, heartfelt expression that speaks volumes of the pride swelling within him. You've grown, blossomed into this magnetic presence on stage, and it fills him with an overwhelming sense of pride and joy. Jeno feels a warmth spreading through him, so profound and stirring that his heart aches pleasantly with every beat. Watching you now, radiant and captivating, he realises the depth of his feelings, each one laid bare in the soft glow of the spotlight that envelopes you. 

For Jeno, this moment crystallizes everything he feels for you—admiration, pride, and an affection so deep it transcends the music and the noise. It's as if the world falls away, leaving only the echo of his heart affirming what he knows deep down: that you mean everything to him. 

You are everything to him—breathtaking, irreplaceable, deeply cherished. The curve of your smile, the intensity in your eyes, and the passion in your voice all remind him of what he's been missing. He was only here for

you, he'd do anything for you. He misses your body, the close warmth of your body against his. Your laugh, your touch, the way you move—memories flood him, vivid and stirring. Seeing you now, so confident and radiant, intensifies his desire. Only you can make him feel this way. 

As you take the stage for your solo, the spotlight casts a gentle glow around you. Jeno, watching from the audience, feels a surge of affection and pride swell within him. He sees Yeji give your hand a reassuring squeeze, and his heart echoes that support from afar.

The moment you begin to describe the song, your voice trembles slightly with vulnerability. "It means a lot to me," you say, "it’s about someone that means a lot to me. This song is what falling in love feels like." Those words, so simple yet profoundly sincere, resonate through Jeno's very soul. He can feel the emotion pouring from you as you start to sing, each note laced with the raw, untamed feelings of love you hold.

As the melody fills the air, Jeno's eyes remain fixed on you, taking in every movement, every expression that flits across your face. To him, you embody everything breathtaking about being in love. The love he feels for you is a transformative force, a tidal wave of emotion that has reshaped his world. It's a feeling that lifts him higher than he’s ever been, yet grounds him more profoundly than he ever imagined possible.

He loves you not just for who you are to the world, but for who you are to him: a source of light, joy, and endless wonder. This love makes him feel alive, every beat of his heart synchronized with the rhythm of your song, every breath a shared moment between past and promise. Watching you there, the embodiment of passion and grace, Jeno's appreciation deepens. 

As you finish your song, the applause still ringing in your ears, you turn around to find Jeno already on stage, his presence both unexpected and unmistakable. "You did so well, I’m always so proud of you," he says, his voice brimming with pride. The closeness is overwhelming, and you avert your gaze, not ready to dive into the flood of emotions his presence brings. 

Your response is muted. “Thank you," barely audible, not quite reaching him. The anger that has been simmering inside you bubbles up. "Why are you here?" you ask sharply, the words slicing through the tension between you. 

"Just hear me out," Jeno whispers, his voice soft, trying to bridge the distance your words have created. You groan, frustration evident. "I promised you that I’d come, didn’t I?" he continues, his gaze intense, causing your head to spin with a mix of irritation and unresolved feelings.

"Jeno, you’re messing with our set, you need to go—" you start, trying to maintain your composure, but he cuts you off.

"Was that song about me?" he asks directly, looking for truth in your eyes.

"No," you reply through gritted teeth, anger flaring. "Why would it be about you?" your voice rises involuntarily.

"I love you too," he says, the softness in his voice attempting to bridge the gap your arguments had built. His words are a direct answer to the emotions you poured into your song, but they hover in the air, momentarily lost to you.

"You can’t just come on stage and do this, come up to me and act as if everything is okay," you retort, your focus more on the disruption than the message he's trying to convey.

"I love you too," he repeats firmly, his declaration halting your defences.

"What?" you whisper, the fight draining out of you as the realisation of his words slowly sinks in. He grins, his confidence reaching out to you across the void of your doubts.

"I love you—" 

His words dissolve into a heated clash of your lips, an urgent collision that ignites a primal hunger between you. Your mouths meld together in a frenzy, each kiss deeper and more desperate than the last. There’s a raw intensity to your connection, a magnetic pull drawing you closer with every touch. You can feel the heat of his breath mingling with yours, the taste of desire lingering on his tongue.

His kisses are fierce, a symphony of passion and longing as your lips move in sync. There’s an urgency in his touch, a hunger that matches your own as you lose yourselves in the heat of the moment. His hands roam over your body, igniting sparks of pleasure with every caress.

You gasp against his lips, the sensation overwhelming as he pulls you closer, his touch setting your skin ablaze with desire. His mouth moves hungrily against yours, each kiss leaving you breathless and wanting more.

With a low groan that vibrated against your skin, Jeno lifted you up effortlessly, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. His strong arms anchored you to him as he navigated off the stage, the world narrowing to just the space between you two. The pulse of the music and the heat of the spotlights faded into a distant hum, replaced by the racing of your hearts and the shallow breaths.

The audience’s laughter echoed faintly behind you, spurred by Sunwoo’s announcement through the mic, “I guess we’re doing the rest of the show without Y/N!” 

Navigating the cluttered backstage was a challenge, with Jeno’s arms securing you and your fingers tangled in his hair. The dimly lit corridors were a labyrinth of shadows and echoes, crew members dodging out of your way with rolled eyes and knowing smirks. But you and Jeno don’t care; you haven’t been together like this in so long. It couldn’t wait; you had to have each other here and now.

“Baby, tell me where the spare rooms are,” Jeno murmured against your stomach, each word a brush of hot breath that sent shivers down your spine.

“That room on the left, I think,” you whispered back, your voice a mixture of laughter and breathless anticipation.

He wasted no time, steering you toward the indicated door. His hand found the knob without breaking the kiss. “Really?” His voice echoed slightly in the cramped room, filled with musical and stage equipment. It was less a room and more a small storage space, instruments and cables haphazardly stacked around you.

Jeno navigated the clutter with ease, his lips finding your cheek in soft kisses as he surveyed the surroundings, an amused sparkle in his eyes. Your legs, still securely wrapped around his waist, tightened as you pulled him closer, craving the warmth of his mouth against yours. Your lips met in a desperate kiss, reaffirming the connection that buzzed electrically between you.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Jeno held you against it, your back pressed against it, pinning you between the solid wood and his solid chest. His hands roamed with purpose, tracing the curves of your body as if recommitting every detail to memory. 

“Please, Jeno,” you whispered into the kiss, your fingers fumbling at the hem of his shirt. The tight space made it awkward, and you laughed softly in frustration, your breath hitching as you tugged the fabric upwards. He hummed, a low, vibrating sound that seemed to stir the air itself.

“I need you,” you moaned, the words vibrating through you as you ground against him, feeling his arousal firm against your core. He caught the hint of urgency in your voice, his movements becoming more deliberate. With a fluid motion that spoke of his eagerness, Jeno stripped off his shirt, then helped you shed your top, the garments discarded carelessly among the instruments.

After a playful struggle with Jeno’s trousers and your tight skirt, you both finally shed the last barriers of clothing, now standing fully exposed. The room is filled with your shared laughter and affectionate eye smiles, echoing the deep connection you both feel in this cramped, instrument-cluttered space.

You don’t waste any time, When he looks into your eyes, he sees the same desire mirrored back at him, confirming that you want nothing more than to feel him inside you. “Fuck, baby,” he moans softly as he gently enters you, the initial connection drawing a deep, shared breath.

He’s tender with you, cooing praises and whispering words of adoration into your ear, his voice barely above a whisper. Sensing your discomfort as you adjust to him, he remains still for a moment, allowing you time to acclimate to his size. It’s been a while since you’ve had anything of his size in you, and Jeno is more than understanding. “Good girl,” he praises with each careful, slow thrust, his hands gripping you securely, reassuring you of his presence and support.

Now, unlike the distant haze of the party where you were too drunk and high to truly feel anything, you are completely sober. The only intoxication now comes from the drug of love itself. You feel all of him—his love, his heart, his touch, and the profound intensity of his cock that fills you completely. This is a stark, beautiful contrast to the numbness of before, making every moment, every movement, deeply significant.

“You’re so big,” you manage to say, your voice a mix of awe and overwhelmed pleasure, your eyes slightly unfocused from the intensity of the moment.

Looking down together at the place where your bodies meet, you both take in the sight—the profound intimacy of the connection. It’s almost overwhelming, the feeling of being so closely joined, and it brings tears to your eyes, not just from the physical sensation but also from the emotional depth of the moment.

“You’re barely in me,” you whisper, the slow stretch a sharp contrast to the deep need you both feel.

“It’s okay, my love. We’ll go slow. I just wanna take my time with you,” Jeno responds, his voice full of love and patience. His every move is calculated and tender, designed to reassure and pleasure you, making every second a slow, beautiful dance of intimacy.

He sighs in bliss, his eyes rolling back as the pace intensifies. His hips rock into yours with a steady, building rhythm. Each powerful thrust pushes deeper, aligning perfectly as your bodies move in perfect sync, rising and falling in unison.

The room fills with the sound of your ragged breaths, intermingling with the unmistakable slap of skin on skin, a primal melody of desire. With each thrust, he delves deeper, his movements precise and skillful, hitting all the right spots. Waves of pleasure radiate from where you’re joined, cascading through your body in a relentless tide.

“Fuck, you feel so good, so tight. I don’t ever wanna leave again,” he groans, the raw need in his voice vibrating against your skin.

You reach up, pulling him down for a soft, deep kiss. “You never left me,” you whisper against his lips, breathless and smiling. 

He chuckles softly, kissing your nose. “I meant my cock in your pussy, beautiful.”

“Oh,” you reply with a light laugh, your cheeks flushing with a mix of arousal and affection.

His hands grip your hips firmly, anchoring you as he thrusts deeper, each movement deliberate and profound. “You take me so well, don’t you, baby? Like you were made just for me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

You nod, breathless. “Made just for you,” you echo, pulling him down for a passionate kiss. This pace, slow and patient, carries a warmth that fills you completely. It’s different for you and Jeno, it’s slower, allowing you to savor each moment, to actually talk and maintain eye contact with the man you love as you make love to him.

Your nails dig into his shoulders as he drives into you relentlessly, each thrust deep and meaningful. “I’ve missed this so much,” you whisper, and the two of you can’t hold back your grins, your chests and mouths aching from smiling so much.

He nods, his eyes alight with affection. “I haven’t had sex since you,” he admits, and you gasp, thinking he’s joking at first but soon realizing he’s earnest.

“You — you — really? You haven’t slept with anyone but me?” you question, your surprise evident.

“I haven’t even wanted to. You’re the only girl I’ve had sex with ever since meeting you. Why would I have sex with anyone else when I’m in love with you?” he responds, his voice soft yet resonant, clear and full of truth. His straightforward honesty leaves you speechless, overwhelmed by the simplicity and depth of his feelings. “It’s always been you, it’s you,” he clarifies, each word punctuating the space between you with its significance.

“I love you so much.” His declaration comes easily, filled with an earnestness that wraps around you like a warm blanket. He continues, his words a caress to your soul, telling you how much he cares, how beautiful you are to him, and how deeply he desires to make you feel cherished and adored. The intimacy of the moment, enriched by his heartfelt confessions, deepens the connection, transforming a physical act into an expression of love and commitment.

As you murmur your reciprocation, “Mmm, and I love you,” his movements grow even more focused. His cock slides deeper into you with every thrust, stretching you deliciously, making you feel every inch of him. 

“You feel so perfect,” he groans, his voice low and husky. The warmth of his breath against your ear sends shivers down your spine as he continues to move within you, slow but intense.

Each thrust pushes him deeper, your body eagerly welcoming him, adjusting to his size and the depth of his penetrations. Your intertwined legs enable him to reach angles that send waves of pleasure radiating throughout your body, each push a testament to his words of devotion.

Your response to his movements is instinctive and unrestrained, you smile back, meeting his thrusts with your own. The room is filled with the sound of your connected bodies, the rhythmic slapping of skin against skin punctuating the air with the reality of your physical and emotional union.

Your laughter and whispers mingle with the warmth of your breaths. “We’re going to have so much sex now,” you laugh against his lips, feeling his smile in the kiss as you add, “we have a lot of making up for lost time.”

He pulls back slightly, locking eyes with you, a gleam of excitement and affection in his gaze. “I’m sorry you’ve gone so long without having sex. I’m gonna make it up to you though, don’t worry,” you tease, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively.

He shakes his head, his smile deepening, filled with a sincerity that tugs at your heart. “It’s all worth it. You’re worth the wait, and you don’t need to make anything up to me, you’ve never done anything wrong,” he assures you, his hand gently caressing your cheek, thumb brushing softly against your skin.

“I love you so much,” you whisper, your voice laced with the desperation of nearing climax. The vulnerability in your tone makes his heart swell.

“Say it again,” Jeno breathes out, his voice rough with his own need. His hands grip your hips tighter, guiding you to meet each of his thrusts. The sound of your bodies moving together in desperate rhythm fills the room, a testament to the depth of your connection.

“I love you, Jeno,” you repeat, louder this time, each word punctuated by his thrusts. “I love you so much.”

He moans in response, his forehead resting against yours as he looks into your eyes, seeing nothing but the raw emotion reflected back at him. “And I love you, more than anything,” he says, his voice breaking with emotion. “You’re everything to me.”

The pace quickens as you both near the brink, the pressure building to an almost unbearable intensity. You feel him swell inside you, and you know he’s close. His eyes never leave yours, holding your gaze as if to memorize every detail in this perfect, fragile moment.

Your back arches against the wall, pushing you even closer to him. “Jeno, I’m—”

“I know, baby, me too,” he whispers, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that steals your breath away. His movements become erratic, a sign he’s lost in the sensation, driven by the overwhelming love and desire he feels for you.

With a final, deep thrust, you feel him tremble, his grip on you tightening as he reaches his climax. The warmth of him spills inside you just as your own climax washes over you, a wave of intense pleasure that leaves you clinging to him, moaning into his mouth.

As you both ride out the waves of your climaxes, soft whimpers and sighs fill the air, each breath a whisper of the love you share. Gradually, your breathing slows, and Jeno’s embrace softens around you, holding you as if he could shield you from the world forever

The room is filled with a charged silence, broken only by his earnest words. "I'm sorry about everything," he says, his voice thick with emotion. 

You shake your head gently, your hands finding comfort as they run through his hair. "You don’t need to be," you reply softly, feeling the weight of his apologies and the sincerity in his eyes.

He meets your eyes, his own filled with a raw sincerity. “But I do need to be. I’m so incredibly sorry for standing you up. I should have been there, and I wasn’t—no excuses,” he confesses, the honesty in his tone underscoring the gravity of his apology.

He holds your gaze, his eyes earnest and filled with a quiet intensity. "I've spent a lot of time thinking about how to make this right," he begins, his voice steady and sincere. "I'm not going to make excuses or try to justify my actions—there’s no point in that. Instead, what I can do is promise you that I'll be better from now on. I won’t hurt you like this again." His commitment rings clear in his tone, showing his determination to mend things and move forward.

You nod, a smile breaking across your face as you lean in, eager to seal your understanding with a kiss. But he just chuckles softly, evading your lips with a playful ease that only heightens your affection for him.

His hands cup your face, thumbs gently caressing your cheeks as he continues, "I just wanna explain myself to you, baby, so you know where I’m at, so you know how serious I am. I’m over Arin—completely. There’s no part of me that still wants her; every beat of my heart is for you now. You don’t need to worry about me feeling attached to her anymore."

Your heart swells with his words, and you lean in to press your lips against his in a reassuring kiss. "I believe you," you whisper against his lips, sealing your trust in him with the warmth of your embrace.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours, vulnerable yet hopeful. "I was hurt after what happened with Arin, I had never experienced heartbreak like that. I just pushed down the pain and I didn’t deal with it. But then I met you... you changed everything. You were so magnetic, so perfect in my eyes. I’ve never met anyone who makes me feel the way you do, not even Arin. I knew that you were someone important and that I had to keep you close."

Listening, you nod, understanding more of his past and feeling the depth of his revelation. His voice grows softer, "But the entire thing with Arin still made me doubtful, not of you or our love but a part of me wasn’t over what she did, a part of me hadn’t healed. But every second I spend with you, being loved by you, I feel that part of me healing. I don’t know why I was so scared to become official with you but all I know is that I’m ready to be yours, I want to belong to you. I’m sorry it took me this long to realize, but I’m here now, yours for a lifetime. I want to love you forever, in this universe and every other one we might find ourselves in."

Tears stream down your face as you grin, touched by his declaration. "You’re so romantic," you giggle, your voice shaky with emotion. His presence, the gravity of his words, and the love in his eyes—it all makes you feel a rush of shyness and excitement.

Despite the deep connection you share, he still has this incredible ability to make you feel giddy, as if every encounter with him is like the first. His gentle touch, his soft laughter in response to yours, it reassures you and intensifies the butterflies in your stomach. And you don’t see that ever going away; it’s a part of the magic that makes your relationship feel perpetually new and thrilling.

He smiles, his own eyes glistening, and then he begins to kiss every inch of your face. Each kiss is soft, affectionate, a silent promise, and a whisper of his love. He kisses your eyelids, each one a gentle blessing, then down to your nose, making you laugh with a light peck that tickles. His lips travel over your cheeks, leaving a trail of warmth, before brushing a kiss on your chin. Finally, he returns to your lips, this kiss deeper, more punctuating. 

“So, what now?” you ask, your hands moving to cup his face, drawing him close enough that you can feel his breath mingle with yours.

“I wanna take you everywhere,” he responds with a hopeful sparkle in his eyes.

You hum, a sound filled with contentment and anticipation.

His eyes light up with excitement as he continues, “I want you to meet my parents, my family. I wanna take you on so many dates, getaways, holidays. Every experience I can think of, I want to share it with you.”

"That sounds like a good idea," you start, a glint of excitement and curiosity lighting up your eyes as you lean in a little closer. "And anything else?" you ask, your voice a playful whisper, inviting him to reveal more of his dreams for the two of you.

He shakes his head, a mischievous glint in his eye, as he pretends to think hard while scratching his neck. “I don’t think so,” he whispers playfully, drawing out the moment just to tease you a little more.

You tut, rolling your eyes at his antics. “Ask me to be your girlfriend,” you whine, your voice carrying a mix of playful sternness and impatience.

He softens, his eyes locking with yours as he replies earnestly, “I want it to be romantic. I wanna make you feel like the most special girl in the world; I want it to be memorable. It’s what you deserve.” His words flow warmly, filling you with an indescribable feeling of love and anticipation.

Looking into his eyes, you find all the romance and significance the moment needs. “Looking into your eyes is all I need, that’s romantic enough for me,” you admit, your voice soft and sincere.

He chuckles, his hold on you firm and reassuring. “Are you sure? Right now, I’m holding you against the wall, my cock is still in you, and we’re surrounded by drums and guitars.”

You smile up at him. “And I can’t think of anything more romantic,” you wink, affirming that every aspect of this moment—unconventional as it may be—is perfect in its own right.

He gives in, his voice soft yet filled with conviction. “I want to be yours, I want to be your boyfriend,” he declares, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Are you ready for that?” you ask, the seriousness of your question tempered by the excitement in your tone.

“I’m more than ready,” he responds in a heartbeat, his assurance unwavering.

The sound you make is girlish, bright, and brimming with hope—a sweet giggle that speaks volumes of your love and excitement. You nod giddily, your hands reaching out to pull him closer, longing to seal his words with a kiss. But as you lean in, he gently pulls back, a teasing sparkle in his eyes. 

"I need you to ask me. I wanna hear it coming from your lips. You're going to be my first girlfriend, after all," he says, his voice a tender mix of nervousness and anticipation

“You’re so annoying.” You huff.

He ignores you. "And am I going to be your first boyfriend?" he teases further.

You nod, your eyes locked on his, filled with affection and a deep, unspoken promise. "My first and last," you whisper softly, finally closing the small distance between you to press a gentle, loving kiss on his lips. The kiss is a mingling of smiles and slight laughter, light but filled with the depth of your feelings.

"Will you be my boyfriend?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, your eyes searching for his answer.

"I’d want nothing more," he smiles, his voice warm and resolute. Finally, he leans in to give you the kiss you've been waiting for, his lips meeting yours in a sweet, firm embrace that feels like a sealing of everything you've promised each other. His hands gently caress your back, pulling you closer as if trying to merge your heartbeats. The kiss deepens, fueled by the joy of his acceptance and the shared eagerness for what lies ahead.

His touch is gentle yet eager, exploring the curve of your back, tracing the lines of your shoulders as you deepen the kiss, reveling in the closeness. It’s a kiss filled with the promise of new beginnings, of adventures to come, and the silent vow of being each other’s first, last, and everything in between. As you pull away slightly to catch your breath, you rest your forehead against his, both of you smiling, breathless and exhilarated by the shared affection and the thrilling prospect of your future together.

──────────────────────────────EPILOGUE

──────────────────────────────

The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the campus as you finally step out, the last of your exams behind you. Your mind is still buzzing with residual stress, but as you spot Jeno waiting nearby, a smile breaks across your face. He hasn't seen you approach yet, his attention momentarily caught by his phone.

"Hi," you whisper as you close the distance, slipping your arms around him from behind and pressing a gentle kiss against his cheeks. He's momentarily surprised but recovers quickly, his arms encircling you in a warm, welcoming embrace. You giggle softly against his mouth, breathing out, "Happy birthday, baby."

"Thank you," he replies, his voice soft, a wide smile spreading across his face as he turns to pull you closer. You pull back just enough to look him over, biting your lip as you take in his carefully chosen outfit, perfect for the celebration you've planned. "You look so good," you say, letting your eyes roam appreciatively.

He chuckles, a sound that fills you with warmth. "Let’s celebrate your special day," you suggest seductively, your voice low enough only for his ears. Hand in hand, you start walking, his arm finding its way around your waist, drawing you into his side. You feel as though you're in your own little world, the campus around you blurring into the background.

As you pass by Arin and Jiwon, you notice their sharp glances. They seem unable to hide their disdain, but today, their reactions don't touch you. They're nothing more than background noise. Today is about Jeno, about celebrating all that he is, and nothing, especially not petty jealousy, can detract from that.

As you and Jeno walk towards the car, the quiet of the sun wraps around you, enhancing the intimacy of your connection. His arm is draped securely around your waist, pulling you close as your bodies move in sync. Each step seems to draw you even closer, his warmth radiating against you, his fingers occasionally tracing small, comforting circles on your hip. When you reach the car, he maintains that tender contact, his other hand reaching to open the door for you, his eyes locking with yours in a look that makes your heart skip a beat. You slide into the seat, the soft leather cool against your skin, and he closes the door with a soft, deliberate thud that seems to echo the quickening of your pulse.

No sooner does he slide into the driver’s seat than the atmosphere shifts palpably. With a fluid motion, he pulls you across to straddle his lap, his movements confident and filled with intent. His hands settle back on your hips, his grip firmer now, decisively possessive as he draws you flush against him. The soft leather of the seat embraces your sides, and you can feel the strength of his body beneath you, solid and reassuring. You look down at him, a smile spreading across your face, and he mirrors it, his eyes alight with desire. The space between you crackles with electric tension, your proximity eliminating any barriers as you lean in. The kiss you share is deep and consuming, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that leaves you breathless. His hands roam your back, pressing you closer, deepening the kiss to a fervour that speaks volumes of the night ahead.

As you break the kiss to catch your breath, your eyes remain locked on his, shining with a mix of affection and residual excitement. “The exam was intense,” you confess, your voice a breathy whisper that only he can hear, “like, really draining. But right now, it feels like a distant memory.” Your hand gently caresses his cheek, the touch light but loaded with meaning.

Jeno listens intently, his eyes never leaving yours, his hands steady on your hips. He smiles reassuringly, squeezing you a little closer. “I’m just glad you’re here now,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. His concern is palpable, making you feel cherished and safe. As you settle deeper into the moment, Jeno leans over slightly, reaching into the backseat. He pulls forward a bouquet, his movements smooth and practiced. Your curiosity peaks as he hands them to you with a proud grin.

"What's this for?" you ask, your smile broadening as you take in the surprise. Gently pulling the bouquet closer, you breathe in the scent. The roses are lush, each petal velvety and richly colored in a deep, vibrant red that speaks of passion and careful selection. Their fresh, sweet aroma fills the car, enveloping you in the essence of nature and romance. "My favorite," you giggle, still grinning as you admire the thoughtful gift. Jeno has a habit of surprising you with such gestures, each one unexpected and delightful.

"I know," he replies, his smile wide and genuine, pleased with your reaction. “It's your birthday, why are you giving me gifts?" you question playfully, pressing your lips against his in a tender, loving kiss, savoring the moment before pulling back just enough to speak.

"Just happy and grateful that I’m spending it with you," he admits, his voice sincere and filled with warmth. The intimacy of his confession adds a special depth to the atmosphere in the car. "So am I," you respond, nudging your nose affectionately against his. "Don’t worry, I got so many gifts for you waiting back at home."

He shakes his head, a laugh escaping him. "You didn’t need to, you don’t think the expensive New York trip is enough?" he teases, his tone light yet touched with appreciation. Smiling, you look into his eyes, filled with affection. "You're my boyfriend. You deserve all the gifts and love in the world." The statement hangs in the air, a testament to your deep feelings for him, sealing the exchange with a promise of continued devotion and celebration.

The drive home was urgent, the need between you palpable; you both were desperate to fuck. But, constrained by time, you had to improvise once you arrived home. As you rushed inside, you made a beeline for the bedroom, where Jeno took a seat, ready and waiting. You didn’t waste a moment—immediately, you slipped out of your clothes and gently eased back onto Jeno, taking him inside you. This wasn’t the wild ride you both craved, but the intimacy of cockwarming, sitting down slowly, feeling every inch as you adjusted to his size, created a different kind of intensity.

As you gently settle back onto Jeno, easing down onto his cock, the connection deepens with the controlled intimacy of the act. The heat between you amplifies as you adjust, sinking slowly until you’re fully seated, enveloped by the warmth of his body. His breath hitches, a soft, involuntary sound that mirrors the slow-building tension. His hands, warm and reassuring, glide over your hips, securing you against him. This isn’t just a momentary touch; it’s an extended embrace, maintaining this intensely personal connection as you start your routine at the vanity. Jeno’s gaze through the mirror is intense yet tender, a silent dialogue of looks and subtle smiles that says everything words cannot.

As you started applying your makeup at the vanity, Jeno's presence was a constant source of warmth behind you. Perched comfortably with him inside you, you could feel his gaze on you, filled with admiration and affection. His compliments flowed freely, making the corners of your mouth turn up in a constant smile. While brushing on a bit of blush, you caught his eye in the mirror and flashed him a meaningful look.

“I promise we will go on a proper date sometime soon,” you said, extending your pinky towards him in the reflection. “I’ll take you out someplace really nice, and we can celebrate your day just the way it deserves.” He hummed in approval, the sound vibrating warmly against your back, and he leaned forward to plant a soft kiss on your cheek, his stubble brushing lightly against your skin.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered, his hands on your hips squeezing gently, reinforcing his words with tender touches. Each compliment he uttered only deepened the flush on your cheeks, not just from the makeup, but from the glow of being so cherished and adored. This intimate setting, underscored by his loving words, made the moment feel like a delicate pause in time, filled with the promise of all the evenings to come. Reluctantly, you slide off Jeno’s lap to finish preparing for the night’s plans. The room is set perfectly: the bed is decorated with rose petals and flowers, creating a romantic ambiance, and his gifts are all carefully arranged, each one chosen with care to celebrate the occasion. As you stand to lay out your lingerie—a final touch for the evening—he watches you intently. His gaze is full of desire as he follows every movement, his appreciation evident in the way his eyes widen.

The lingerie, delicate and inviting, is spread across the bed. You pick up a piece, running your fingers over the silky fabric, then glance back at Jeno with a playful challenge in your eyes. Returning to his lap, you settle back down onto him, feeling his arousal distinctly as you resume the intimate contact. Your hands roam over your curves, accentuating each line as you lean closer to him and whisper suggestively,

“Want me to wear it now?” Your voice is low and teasing, your lip caught between your teeth as you tilt your head towards the lingerie. Jeno’s response is immediate and filled with raw desire. “Mmm, I’d rather take it off from your body,” he growls softly, his hands gripping your hips more firmly. The promise in his words sends a shiver of anticipation through you, setting the tone for a night that promises to be as intense as it is intimate.

As the evening approaches, the anticipation is tangible. Jeno's presence is magnetic, the way his shirt hangs open just enough to reveal the contours of his muscled chest, each line accentuated by the dim lighting. Notably, a tattoo graces his chest—one of his new ones, it’s a design that echoes the one inked on your own body, a silent testament to your love and commitment. The sight of him, so effortlessly handsome, stirs a deep desire within you. You're drawn to the strength evident in his biceps, traced under your fingers, feeling the solidity of his presence. Overwhelmed by his allure, and unable to resist the pull of your attraction, you press him against the wall in a quiet corner before you leave. There, in that secluded space, you sink to your knees, driven by an intense desire to be even closer.

The moment is electric, his hands finding their way to your hair, guiding you gently yet fervently. As you take him into your mouth, the heat between you deepens. His response is immediate, his breath catching in sharp intakes as he encourages your movements with a subtle, appreciative pressure that intensifies the intimacy of the act.

The drive to the venue is charged with an electric tension, the confined space of the car making every touch feel more intense. Once again, you lean towards him, your actions marked by an intimate familiarity that only deepens the connection. As you dedicate this moment to him, his sharp intakes of breath and the low, appreciative sounds he makes are muffled only by the soft hum of the engine. Each motion is a celebration of his birthday, a personal tribute that makes the night unforgettable, your dedication clear in every deliberate touch and whispered vow of affection.

As you step out of the car, Jeno's lips find the back of your head, planting a soft kiss that sends a shiver down your spine. He murmurs a compliment on how beautiful you look tonight, his voice a warm whisper that wraps comfortingly around you. But before you can respond, he produces a blindfold—the very one you both use during sex. Surprise flits across your face as he gently places it over your eyes. The world goes dark, and a thrilling shiver of anticipation runs through you. Guiding you silently by the hand, Jeno leads you forward. Your heart beats a tad faster, fueled by a mix of excitement and curiosity. "Jeno, what are you doing?" you ask, your voice tinged with both amusement and slight apprehension. He only smirks in response, his silence intriguing and mysterious.

"Just trust me, baby," he breathes softly into your ear, his words tingling down your spine as he reassures you once more. A few moments later, he carefully removes the blindfold, and you're greeted with a sight that takes your breath away. Your eyes widen, and a gasp escapes your lips as you take in the scene before you. He's rented out your favourite bar and transformed it into a personal celebration space. The room bursts with your favorite colours and decorations; soft music that you love fills the air, creating a perfect backdrop. The bar is stocked with your favourite drinks, and tables are laden with dishes you adore.

The warmth of the surprise envelops you, and as you cover your mouth with your hands, a wide grin spreads across your face. Turning to Jeno, your eyes sparkle with unshed tears of joy. He stands watching your reaction, his own smile mirroring your happiness. "Jeno!!! What is this for?" you exclaim as you throw your arms around him, holding him close. You look up into his eyes, seeking an explanation for this unexpected celebration.

"Celebrating your end of exams. I’m so proud of how hard you’ve worked," he says simply, his thumb caressing your cheek tenderly. You lean into his touch, feeling utterly cherished.

"But it’s your birthday," you giggle, a playful note in your voice.

He shakes his head, his eyes soft with affection. "I don’t mind. We’re going to celebrate that eventually. I just wanted to make this day special for you. I’d rather show love for my girl on my birthday anyways," he confesses, his words wrapping around you like a warm blanket. First, Nayoung and Eunji greet you with open arms and bright smiles, their laughter mingling with the soft music in the background. The hug you share is tight and warm, a testament to the countless days you’ve spent together, supporting and enjoying each other’s company.

Nearby, Sunwoo and Yeji stand together, hands intertwined, sharing a look of contentment. You join them with a gentle tease about their new official status, and their happiness adds a joyful note to the atmosphere. Eric waits with a knowing grin, ready with a supportive embrace. His steady friendship has been a cornerstone of your college life, always there through thick and thin.

Everywhere you look, it’s a manifestation of Jeno’s love and thoughtfulness—a night dedicated not just to your achievements but to the joy of being together. The entire evening is a celebration of your hard work and his unwavering support, a beautiful testament to the depth of his feelings for you. As you take in the surroundings, filled with everything and everyone you love, you realize just how deeply Jeno understands and cherishes you, making the end of your exams an unforgettable milestone.

As you rest your head against Jeno's shoulder, you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your cheek, a soothing pulse that syncs perfectly with the hum of voices and laughter around you. His arms wrap around you, a secure and comforting embrace that makes the rest of the world fade away. Jeno leans in, his breath warm against your ear. "You make everything complete," he whispers, each word a soft melody that dances along your nerves, sending shivers of delight through you. His lips brush lightly against your earlobe, a tender gesture that makes you melt further into his embrace.

You tilt your head to look up at him, meeting his gaze. His eyes are deep pools of affection, reflecting a love so profound it seems to envelop you entirely. The way he looks at you, with such admiration and care, fills you with a warmth that radiates from the inside out. Jeno's hand gently cradles your face, his thumb caressing your cheek softly. He leans down, closing the small distance between you, and his lips meet yours in a slow, purposeful kiss. It's a kiss that speaks of years of love and promises yet to be kept, soft and sweet yet filled with an intensity that makes your heart swell. As you kiss, the noise of the bar fades into a distant murmur, the world narrowing down to just the two of you.

As he pulls back slightly, he smiles, that heart-stopping smile that always seems to say so much more than words could. "I love you," he murmurs, so softly it's almost lost beneath the swell of music and laughter, but you hear it clear as day—a vow, a declaration, a truth shared between soulmates. You nestle closer, the simple joy of this moment encapsulating everything wonderful about your life together.

As the moment lingers, you nestle closer into Jeno's embrace, feeling the contentment and love that fills the air. "I'm so happy," you whisper, the words a soft exhalation against his skin. The simple admission feels like the most profound declaration, carrying with it all the weight and wonder of your shared journey.

Jeno's response is immediate and tender, a reflection of the feelings that shimmer palpably between you. He nudges his nose gently against yours, a playful yet intimate gesture that draws a light laugh from you both. "As long as you're happy, I'm happy," he says, his voice low and resonant with emotion. His words echo the depth of his commitment, each syllable reinforcing the bond you share.

He gazes into your eyes, his look intense and full of promise. "You make me happy.” he continues, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw softly. The warmth in his eyes and the sincerity in his voice envelop you like a soft blanket, comforting and secure. The connection you share deepens with these small exchanges, each touch and word weaving a stronger fabric of intimacy. The world around you—the chatter, the clinking glasses, the laughter—blurs into a background soundtrack to the profound scene unfolding between you and Jeno. Here, in his arms, surrounded by friends and the echoes of shared laughter, you find a profound sense of belonging and happiness. His presence is a steady pulse in your life, the heartbeat that syncs perfectly with your own.

You watch everyone, all your friends who you love and cherish so much—some slightly swaying, others boldly singing along to the music, their laughter mingling with the rhythmic beats pulsating through the space. They're all here, each person delightfully lost in the celebration, some drunk, some high, all radiating sheer joy.

You turn back to Jeno, drawing closer to him, feeling the secure embrace of your loving boyfriend. His arms wrap around you, pulling you into a world that feels separate from the chaos around. In his eyes, you find a home, a safe haven where you can let go of everything else. The noise, the music, the jubilant shouts of your friends fade into a soft backdrop to the silent conversation held in his gaze. "I love you," slips easily from your lips, a simple truth that resonates deeply between the two of you.

"I love you more," Jeno replies, his voice steady and sure, echoing the commitment in his eyes. He leans in, his nose gently nudging yours in an affectionate gesture, his breath mingling with yours, drawing a gentle laugh from your lips. "Thank you for this," you add, gesturing subtly at the joyous chaos he orchestrated just for you, making the night unforgettable.

The night deepens, and the atmosphere thickens with more than just smoke and laughter; it’s heavy with the intangible, yet palpable, love that you share with Jeno. He holds you closer, each beat of the music enhancing this intimate connection. As you rest your head against his shoulder, feeling the rhythm of his heart, you think about how profoundly he has shaped your world. In the midst of friends who are celebrating with abandon, your focus remains tethered to him, the architect of your happiness.

Lee Jeno, the maker of your universe, stands with you in the center of a whirling storm of joy, his presence a constant force, grounding and uplifting. And as you lose yourself in his embrace, you realize that this is exactly where you belong, in the arms of the love of your life, surrounded by friends who share your joy. This realization isn't just comforting—it's a declaration of your shared future, bright and promising, under the watchful eyes of the stars.

──────────────────────────────

it’s over :((( i feel emotional. this was my baby fr and i loved writing every single second of it. i feel so heavy with love, thank you so much for all of your support with this part <3 i cannot tell you how much it means to me. the love i’ve gotten for this in such a short amount of time will never fail to blow my mind. i love you and thank you. 🫶🫶 hopefully you stick with me in the future and i can impress you with my other work <3 

please interact with this part and lmk what you thought!! means so much more to me than you’d know mwah. also had to format the epilogue in big para’s or else it wouldn’t have posted

──────────────────────────────

[selineram3421]

*friend comes up with something*

Royally Pissed

Part 1

Prologue

Alastor X Morningstar Reader

Warnings ⚠

⚠ Italics=thoughts, implied/suggestive *cough* bedroom name ⚠

In all honesty, Alastor didn't know why he did it but it just happened.

He pulled the small blonde out of the way, holding them close to his chest as a large dust cloud came from the now broken chandelier.

Mostly everyone in the room coughed as they tried to clear the dust from themselves.

"Are you hurt?", he asked them, noticing that the top of their head barely reached his chin.

How small.

"I'm fine.", they turned away to cough. "That was a lot of dust.."

Before he could ask for their name again, they were suddenly pulled away by none other than the King, Lucifer.

"ALRIGHT THEN!", he said before pulling them towards Charlie.

Haha!

The blonde slid over to his daughter, bringing along his other child as he began.

Looks like you could use some help

From the big boss of Hell himself

He held Charlie close before pushing her to see him sitting on a throne with fire rising behind it.

Check out daddy's glowing reviews on Yelp

He sang, scrolling on his hellphone to show her the reviews.

(Five star! Flawless! Greater than great!)

Three puppets said one after the other.

Oh, with the punch of a pentagram

A wap-bam-boom! Alakazam!

Alastor rolled his eyes as he watched on, but then he was suddenly pouring wine into a glass.

Who needs a busboy, now that you've got the chef?

The deer demon was pulled by the waist and landed in a pan, ears folded back as he angrily smiled at the King who grinned evily before he was flipped onto his front.

(Wow~)

I'm going to kill him.. Alastor thought before lifting himself up.

.

You were pulled into song and at the moment, were now sitting at a dinner table with your sister as your father was dressed like a server, hand about to reveal a meal.

Michelin-tasting menu

He lifted up the silver cloche, revealing a a "decapitated" Alastor, then some tentacles with red eyeballs, and finally a cake with him holding Alastor's head.

Free à la catre!

Oook.. You cringed. Dad doesn't like Alastor.

I'll rig the game for you because I'm the ref!

He started focusing more on Charlie and started to make more things appear.

Champagne fountains, caviar mountains, that's just the start~!

And then Alastor jumped in with blacklight, his backgrounds looking vibrant.

Who's been here since day one?

The deer demon pushed your father away, making him spin out of song.

Who's been faithful as a nun?

He was suddenly dressed as a nun, holding his hands in a praying position.

Much like how your father changed his scenes quickly, so did Alastor. You were having some trouble keeping up with it. His appearance looking slightly different with the lighting, his irises now green.

I'm truly honored that we've built such a bond

"Aw.", Charlie smiled.

He was now at the top of the stairs with your sister.

You're like the child that I wish that had

Alastor cupped your sister's face,

"Uh, what?", your dad said shocked.

Then your sister was like a child tucked in bed, literally. Alastor sitting at the edge and patting her head.

I care for you, just like a daughter I spawned

"Hold on now!", your father lifted up a finger.

The deer demon suddenly leaned his elbow on top of your dad's head, smooshing the white top hat.

It's a little funny

He started and pulled your sister to face away from your father.

You could almost call me Dad!

Suddenly you pulled into the song and were spun into a dip, finding Alastor smiling down at you with a seductive gaze.

(You can call me Daddy~), he whisper sang to you.

Your face turned bright red as you let out a squeak.

.

How adorable~ His smile widened as he saw them hide their blushing red face with their hands.

Now this one was on purpose.

After seeing the immediate reaction Lucifer had with him touching them. Oh, he had to cross multiple lines to see what the man would do next.

They were practically shaking in his hands, no doubt a little overwhelmed with what he had just sang just for their ears alone.

Let's see if I can fluster them more. He thought and raised a hand towards their face.

Suddenly they were ripped out of his hold and it was just the two men on stage.

The King growled, face darkening before he began to angrily play a fiddle, walking up to him with a scowl.

Alastor just smiled, standing up straight with his hands behind his back. Taking a step back as he dropped a piano on the short King before taking a seat on the piano bench, playing it confidently and showing off his skills before cringing at a loud sound.

His piano solo interrupted by an accordion.

Looking behind him, he saw Lusifer holding the instrument above his head with a frown, playing just one long note.

Really? He thought with a raised brow.

The two glared at each other before the spotlights above the two flickered out.

*me and my friend holding back our laughter* We can't laugh! It's 2 am!

~Seline, the person.

Part 2

Taglist@

@ducky-died-inside @scary-noodlesblog @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @lbcreations-blog @gallantys @117s-girl @spiderlegsling @alastorsgoldie @repentant-repeller @kcsketches @lofasofabread @kotaleee @im-coolrat @superzombiewho @speckle-meow-meow @jammcookie @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @trashbin-nie @valenfawkes @fatherlesschild2 @mmik3yy @just-here-reading @nealeart @hudiexiaoying @crystal-multiplefandomlover @glowinggoldfish0 @tiredgamerhere @fluffy-koalala @+?

Taglist continued in the comments🔪

ML II for Alastor🎙 | RP ChL 👑

[ybklix]

you can be the boss

★ pairing: softdom!chrisbang x inexperienced!femreader PART THREE ♡ part one / part two

☆summary: What started fast, you wished it wouldn't end fast, because ever since you met Chris it has been an adventure of new experiences and emotions you never thought you would feel, yet the weight of something that started out being wrong was finally getting to you.

✧ genre - warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, petnames, oral sex, boobplay, edging, cunnilingus, fingering, orgasm denial, daddy kink, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie, hints of fluff.

word count: 8.8k

masterlist - taglist ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹

a/n: hello, this became a short series, welcome, part 4 soon, hope u understand and like it, I tried w the fluff

Everything was fine, except for the fact that you were lying to everyone's face, even though you felt it shouldn't be that way in the first place, Chris was no longer in a relationship with someone else right now and neither were you when you met him, you still had that little feeling of disgust after all and deep down you wanted to go back to being you, that naive girl who didn't care for a second about the fact that he was someone else's boyfriend, of not taking the relationship seriously because of the already well known history and pattern of couples of a woman like Ruby and worst of all, was that you couldn't hate her, beyond her slightly unfriendly face and fake personality, but she was still decent and nice to you, of course, before you knew it was you who was now with Chris, now you had no idea what they were like and didn't want to find out, you were fine with him, sneaking around in your free time after class, ignoring everyone and your parents filling you with messages asking you all the time if you were still on campus and if you were already heading to your dorm, lying and just saying yes, when the reality was otherwise.

You had never had your parents on you for years, just this very moment when the small relationship you had with Chris was more than known and public, Chris, the man who offered them his home to spend a few weeks in the summer and was slightly but at the same time significantly older than you… that was all the information your poor father had because he had no further interest in knowing for him, he was only at his house for Dahlia and you as he thought it would be a good distraction for you along with your cousin-friend your age with whom you got along so well, but Dahlia was only there for Ruby, who insisted on it, and after so many years, for the first time ever, she saw her so excited and enthusiastic about someone. Ruby was somewhat complicated with her relationships and all the time the poor thing blamed herself feeling that it ended up being her fault in some way or another and Chris was no exception, in the end he broke up with her, causing her a slight insecurity, bigger than her past relationships because this time she was really convinced that she would stay with Chris, that he would eventually ask her to move in together and they would be happy forever… but the reality was different and seeing you together only reopened the wound she thought she had closed, she was fine, she just felt awful and terrible for experiencing another failed relationship in her almost thirties, but she still looked so young, her image was enviable and she could have whoever she wanted, she was fine, or at least she pretended to be when she didn't think too much about Chris as she respected his decision so much despite it not being a mutual breakup, but everything changed just by seeing you with him, as her mind idealized the perfect infidelity that it all happened quickly at his summer house, which was quite true and her crazy thoughts were not so far from reality.

On the other hand, your father didn't know what to say that time on the phone as the first time you discussed it was through a phone call, as he couldn't just show up unexpectedly at the university, the chances of meeting you there in a fixed place were so low so he had to confront you through the phone, he didn't know what to tell you, he just asked you for an explanation which you didn't have in concrete, it had just happened, deep down you believed the real reason for his call was Dahlia, who wanted to hear something from you about the situation since she found out from a very agitated and upset Ruby, but you have been avoiding them ever since, in fact, you have been avoiding all of them.

Chris's arms managed to soothe you for the moment, they made you realize that when you were next to him everything was fine… but when you weren't next to him the little guilt came back to hit you coldly. You came to think about the situation, with a shudder and disgust, that you had taken a man away from a woman that maybe they had plans to marry, they were both grown up and knew their families, well at least you knew that about Chris towards Ruby, you didn't know exactly if she knew Chris's family, you didn't know how they met, if they lived together and how serious they were, though at the end of the day… for him to give in and get to you, you immediately deduced that they weren't serious after all, but you with Chris, you did want to be very serious. You didn't want to know those details but at the same time you were so curious, you were starting to feel insecure.

Your little thoughts persisted and unconsciously you walked away and Chris noticed, you walked away from him, suddenly you were so busy and tired that you just came to your dorm room, texted him goodnight and repeated your cycle of your ordinary life before him, where your day was based on college.

You didn't know what to do, you knew they weren't your family directly, you didn't want to think about it too much either but maybe it was just the stress of college combined with the new feeling of dealing with a man like Chris, although you wouldn't directly use that term to address him, you just decided to blame the slight stress on you accumulated with the new feelings forming more and more strongly in you.

And in the middle of a class, you remembered him. You missed him, god you missed him so much, but Chris was very respectful of your space and understood that you were busy at the university but it had been days without feeling his touch, suddenly you remembered him, the sweet touch of his skin against yours, the closeness of his body and his tender but dominant presence near you, all of him, you needed him now to turn off your feelings and take the stress away from you, besides it had been a heavy day, you still had to see him, you had him for yourself and you didn't take the opportunity, now you felt the need to get him.

All you told him was if you could see each other to which he quickly responded in that he would pick you up and be in the west side university parking lot near your dorm building. You lied to him a little about what time he could pick you up as he was so sweetly punctual and you wanted to get to your dorm, shower and get ready to see him as you knew the chances were so high that meeting him would mean you'd be so inevitably pleased. You wore a nice skirt and top, did your makeup and hair for the first time in the rushed and stressful college week and went out happy, with no other thought but to finally see him.

In the distance, you saw him looking so handsome, wearing comfortable but formal black cloth pants and a collared shirt of the same color, tight to his body, making him look so good and highlighting his almost porcelain skin, he smiled broadly at you upon seeing you and you noticed that he didn't have empty hands, but a nice bouquet of flowers accompanied him, as you approached just steps away from him, you finally breathed in his scent, you breathed the same air so close and dared to hug him, an act that he reciprocated immediately, wrapping his strong arms around you, you needed him so much, you wanted to hug him every day if it was possible.

Chris resented your absence and estrangement so much that he was going out of his way to let you know that he really liked you and that he was taking every time you spent together seriously, he gave you a little kiss on top of your head before pulling away. All your silly thoughts were gone once you were with him, you didn't even remember the disappointed expressions of your family that you imagined so much, nor was there anyone else but the two of you.

“For you, I really thought I was going to see you until the weekend” he mentioned sweetly, handing you the bouquet of pink flowers.

You looked at him tenderly, no one had ever given you flowers or small gifts suddenly just for the sake of it, just because he missed you and was coming back to see you after days, it was like he was celebrating that he is finally close to you again, Chris was quite the man.

“Thank you, Chris.”

You were blushing. Your whole body burned sweetly and you moved closer to him to give him a quick kiss on the lips, an act which he took advantage of and didn't let it be fleeting, instead he grabbed you from your lower back pulling you to his body to join more passionately in a real and long lasting kiss, in a feast of delicious movements and exploration that you so longed for and missed, his full lips against yours, his nose on your face, his muscular body attached to yours, your arms around him, you almost fell weak again at his touch, but he was holding you so tightly.

“I missed you” he whispered as he pulled away minimally, brushing your lips.

Chris smiled. His nose playing with yours, nuzzling.

“Me too, that's why I called you” you replied, mesmerized in the provocative playfulness that was having his face so close.

Chris licked his lips, the sweet and tender was becoming darker and darker as the seconds ticked by and you felt his breath hit your face, there was so much tension all of a sudden in such a public place. He analyzed you, his piercing but soft gaze watching you from above, he looked so good every time he watched you like that, you adored every angle of him, you could get down on your knees and suck him off right there, or push yourself back on your heels to catch his lips again and kiss him for a long time, you could do anything with him.

“I always want to see you. Don't let days go by without seeing you, I can't” he confessed.

You smiled warmly, joy filling every inch of you for having him. You were the same as you were just over a month ago, warm bodies under a hot sun in his house, but at the same time it felt like something changed in you, being able to see each other at any time, under the stars, without having to hide.

Chris was proud to have you, his time of reflection had passed in which he doubted whether to let you go, let you do your normal life, dating a college boy your age… but he couldn't allow that, he didn't see you with anyone else but him, you were his and that filled every part of him. Your relationship wasn't the best, he was a man with his life made and you were a young woman still seeing for her future, but he didn't care, he wanted to be there for you, smoothing the long journey that is having to build your own life and future, plus he was sure that no other immature guy was going to treat you and take care of you the way he planned to.

“Okay, come see me every day. I'm free from 2 to 5, then I take two classes and go to the dorm.”

“We can do so many things in those three hours, why hadn't you told me?”

He teased sweetly starting to stroke your back, the tension was building again, but some young men walking quietly through the parking lot distracted you from your own bubble.

Chris cleared his throat and the two of you slowly separated.

“Well, get in the car, princess,” he smiled at you.

He opened the door for you, he fastened your seatbelt as a perfect excuse to be close to your body, getting his head in, you appreciated him, his structured profile and his large hands and arms delicately sliding the belt to buckle you in, you breathed in his perfume, you boldly saw the veins in his arms and hands, almost drooling over him, you hadn't been touched in days.

But your inner fire ceased a little, when he turned to see you with an adorable smile closing his eyes. Chris rounded the car and sat behind the wheel.

“Did you have something planned for today, baby girl?” he spoke starting the car.

His sudden little nicknames for you always made you blush.

“Mm, not today, I just wanted to see you.”

He smiled even wider, stretching his handsome face as he showed pure happiness at having you.

“Mmm well, we can take advantage of one of the last warm nights since the cold autumn is coming.”

You frowned, not sure what he was referring to. But you could tell he had something on his mind.

“Oh, okay…”

You decided to leave it like that, seeing it as a surprise as to what you could do. On the way you both talked, Chris was also busy on a project, but as soon as you called him, he stopped it and went running to get ready to see you, you felt bad, but he told you that you shouldn't feel that way, that he was the boss anyway and could stop his work from time to time when he wanted to. You blushed, everything about him was so structured, he was a man with a life, but he was lonely and you were more than happy to be that someone to keep him company.

He caressed your bare thigh from time to time and you shyly put your hand on his, feeling his strong, long fingers in your warm palm. You were so comfortable with him, the way he spoke appealingly focused on the road and seeing you momentarily but doing it in such a detailed way… within minutes, you decided to look around when you noticed he was slowing down and recognized the place right away, his house near the beach. You felt a shiver, you had never seen it from that perspective at night, the front of his home at night, the slightly long driveway leading up to the main lot… you hadn't been there since you left and did so one afternoon with the strong sun on your body. It had been so quick, you and Chris acted fast after a fleeting week of secret meetings at his pool house and decided that you had to go, to slowly evict everyone, his ex-girlfriend being the last pawn to remove. Once again, you felt slightly bad for her. Recapping your plan sounded so cynical and heartless, you met, and liked each other, when he was in a relationship and plotted how he should break up with her to be with you, kind of heartless, but there was nothing else to do, it was almost like Chris was waiting for you, designed for you, he looked so mismatched with Ruby anyway, you wanted to convince yourself. In the end, he chose you, yes you acted with your hormones and senses in turmoil, like a heartless little bitch, but you got the man.

You looked at his home, it suddenly felt so distant and new from a different perspective, being now Chris's lover and not just a guest and stranger to him, you still remembered your magnetic first meeting. The time you met a man who you kept thinking of all the ways he could make you full and happy, but he only had one obstacle and impediment, which was so easy to remove, you were scared that what easy came into your hands could go away so easily too, you didn't want to walk away from Chris, there were nights when you were worried that you couldn't call him your boyfriend, there was a real bond that tied you to him, although the situation was so ironic and hypocritical, sometimes you weren't sure if you deserved such happiness so easily, doing wrong and getting good results. You wanted to be the same as you were more than a month ago, when none of that mattered to you more than the sweet tobacco taste of Chris's lips on yours, you didn't know why you were overthinking it so much, he wasn't dating anyone else anymore, he made that clear to you.

“We haven't been here alone, ever” he spoke suddenly, parking the car.

You were engrossed with the facade of his home, that his deep voice resonated with you, you turned to see him with a smile. You wanted everything to be special with you too, you didn't want to feel in the shadow of his ex-girlfriend even though you'd only seen them interact for a week, Liv's voice saying they'd lasted six months and knowing each other since January echoed in your head so annoyingly.

“It's all ours now” he repeated again.

His words only calmed you down a little. And you got out of the car as soon as he opened the door for you. There was no reason to feel somehow unhappy, when it was right there where it all started, his simple kiss, his first touch and now it was yours, making it more than clear that he had completely forgotten about Ruby, but you didn't understand why it still wasn't so clear to you.

Chris noticed your expression, grabbed you by the waist and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Everything okay, sweetie?” he whispered softly, making your hair stand on end.

You stopped dead in your tracks, surprising Chris but he stopped with you, you turned to see him, and just before you entered his house, you saw him with huge bright eyes, begging, but not in a sexual way, you were begging to know that you were the only woman he wanted to have in his life, you wanted to know, you were hungry for it but you couldn't find the right words, plus each and every one of his actions were right but you wanted a confirmation from him, in words, that he wouldn't leave you and that he was truly feeling that connection and great magnetism, as personas, souls and not just bodies.

“What, baby girl?” he let out a chuckle, touched and with his brow gently furrowed, confused by your act.

He wasn't so sure if you could ever feel comfortable again in a place where you met him having someone else, but he wanted to try, getting sizzling hot moments where nothing could turn you off. Chris caressed your face, you were pouting softly.

“Mmm, nothing.”

“It's definitely something, tell me all about it, sweetheart” he sounded so understanding, such a soft, sweet tone that you wanted to hear every day.

“I want you” you confessed.

Chris knew exactly what you meant by that phrase, he wanted you too, as much as you wanted him, but he was waiting and idealizing so much for the perfect and indicated moment.

“I want you, too. I want everything from you” he replied softly.

His answer made you uneasy but calmed you at the same time, leaving you confused, he took to running his hands through your arms and hugged you. Leaving you with your mind swimming. But you didn't say anything else, you stayed there, thinking that maybe you shouldn't rush things.

You followed him into the house, it looked so different, with no one around, just you and him, that was your dream, something you longed for but couldn't help but feel empty in a way, it wasn't the material, but something deep inside you, but it all made sense, when Chris took a few steps ahead of you, and you saw him with his back turned, with his house in the background, you understood and every corner shined again. Just you and him, forgetting everything. Being what you always were, an inevitable cute mess attracted to each other.

“Have you had dinner yet? I can make dinner here” he spoke sweetly.

You nodded, “I'm fine, and you?”

He too nodded softly.

“Then... let's enjoy ourselves, I prepared the pool for us before the weather turns completely cold.”

You smiled at him, “Mm... you want to go to the pool?” you said seductively, moving closer to him until you joined your body to his again.

He was so captivated by you and the way you saw him and approached him, the night was perfect, so quiet, being able to kiss in his foyer without any trouble, only hearing each other and the faint, distant sound of crickets chirping and the night itself.

“But I don't have a bathing suit” you replied, playing with him and pouting.

“You can get in naked” he joked to which you were surprised and he laughed, “Let's go upstairs to my room, I have something for you.”

He took you by the hand, his warm big hand holding you, guiding you to a room you had never entered as it was too risky back then, his room, the master bedroom which he accompanied with a certain woman who made you shiver just thinking about it. Still, you inspected every detail of the room. You liked it but your face was more than obvious.

“I changed everything” Chris suddenly blurted out, “It's another bed, other sheets...”

Chris understood the importance and level of things, he was trying to put himself in your shoes and imagining the idea that someone else had you and touched you before him truly drove him crazy, he couldn't even bear to imagine it, then he understood that you met him 'having the heart' of another woman, so you might find it difficult, but the truth was that now genuinely, it was all yours.

His comments awakened something in you, the fact that he paid attention to those details to make you understand as if she had never existed in his life, reassured your inner self.

“And this...” you said.

You noticed a nice white bikini and a shopping bag with a designer logo on the bed, next to a nice dress next to it, you thought you weren't ready for gifts, although in reality you were, but you didn't know what to do about it, other than tell him thank you, you didn't know what to give Chris back, you were a college girl living in a dorm with another girl and this semester he wouldn't let you take a part time job, you wanted to give him something too. He slowly approached you with perilous steps and with a tenderly joyful expression came back to tell you:

“This is also for you, I saw it and immediately thought of you, how much I want to see you in it...”

You were caused tenderness by his way of saying it. But something about him was still so captivating and seductive. He was all a dream, how could you leave him.

“Oh... Chris...”

“Don't be modest, let me shower you with gifts, I want to. A thank you is fine with me, if you can think of other ways to say thank you, you can always tell me” he mentioned as he saw your slightly worried expression, his last comment came out somewhat impishly from him.

“Thank you” you leaned in closer, giving him a kiss on his soft, clean cheek.

“You're welcome, baby doll. I want you to wear it on a special day, what are you doing this weekend? Can we see each other?”

“I'll be free” you replied with a smile.

“Perfect” he smiled, “Now relax a little and let's go to the pool, water's warm. Let me get you dressed.”

The naturalness with which he said the last sentence made you freeze in a good way, blushing. You nodded, waiting for him, Chris walked over to you with an adorable smile plastered on his face and leaned over to whisper to you:

“Let daddy dress her doll.”

He and his damn habit of calling himself daddy, it made you angry because it accomplished something indescribable to you. It made you so hot in seconds. The closeness of his mouth on your ear and his light brush against your loose hair made your skin bristle. You almost swallowed nervously, but you looked at him again with pleading eyes, this time in a sexual mode and it drove Chris crazy, your inexplicable, innocent aura he couldn't resist.

He let out a sigh, already aroused without even touching you until he grabbed the hem of your blouse, lifting it up, you raised your arms and let him undress you completely, starting from top to bottom, he removed your bra and admired your breasts, then he looked mischievously into your eyes and lowered his gaze again, Chris caught your right breast with his hand, he slightly roughly massaged both breasts with his hand and checked the hardness of your nipples, pinching them and just playing with what is his. You just stood there, firmly standing in front of him, letting him do with you what he wanted, enjoying the process.

Chris was still smiling mischievously and now it was his turn to remove your skirt and panties, getting down on his knees in front of you and once again, doing it slowly and admiring your mons pubis being covered by your underwear until finally taking it off. Needless to say, the obvious excitement in both of your bodies and the thoughts that inhabited both of your minds, lusting for each other. Your core was lubricating itself, throbbing more and more but your undoing was to feel his breath hit the skin of your pubis, where Chris deposited a soft kiss, squeezing your thigh and almost just out of curiosity or habit, he finely ran his fingertip along the length of your tight folds, driving you wild.

He stood up as if it was nothing, calmly taking the bikini and putting it on you seductively, but you noticed that he wasn't so calm at all; heavy breathing and a thick erection accompanied him. You were in a mess wondering how he was going to get rid of the bulge of arousal in his pants, you wondered if he was about to touch you as he put the little garments on you until he finally got you dressed.

You both made eye contact, he licked his lips, letting himself be carried away by you, at this point every muscle in your pussy was throbbing with eagerness and the sensation was unsettling and was only well attended to when Chris did it. So you couldn't stand it a second longer, your whole body was on fire just now and when you were like this you used to act on your own, taking steps that would initiate something with no return and dangerous, just like the first time you met him, when your poor sensitive pussy cried every time you saw him being himself so well, an uneasy feeling that drove you to him, telling him how much you wanted him to fuck you, when you had never even experienced sex. You knew he was so turned on too, so you understood there was only one more thing to do.

You finally reacted, impatient, eager for his hands on you. You reached out to him in a playful way and caressed his arm, feeling his defined muscles and the softness of his skin.

“Daddy…”

You caught his attention in a sweet way that you knew exactly what turned him on so much. You hadn't called him that and that only meant one thing, which carried with it many. You got his attention from the first second you approached him, but your sweet tone of voice calling him something so normal with such sexual undertones made his cock trapped in his pants throb in excitement.

“You're so hard, daddy” you continued, moving your hand from his arm down to his bulge, ”Can I help you?”

Chris bit his lip, indulging in your cute little game of seduction and provocation, nodding softly and leaving the palm of his right hand gently on your cheek.

“You're a good girl for daddy, wanting to help me. Go on, please take care of your daddy, my baby doll.”

His words aroused in you more craving and desire, unbuttoning the button of his pants, admiring the big bulge trapped in it and you managed to pull out his cock, so stiff and detonating for you. You loved every aching inch of him, Chris always knew how to use it on you and make you come all the way to the clouds.

You took his thick length, Chris moaned, his cock was desperate in your hands and you began to masturbate him, pulling on his member, stroking it gently, making you incredibly more horny.

“Is that okay, daddy?”

You looked into his eyes, Chris was struggling internally but he adored his little princess being there for him, servicing him.

“Just like that, my baby girl, you know you're doing excellent for daddy.”

Your soft hands were nothing compared to his, when the nights were lonely and he had to pleasure himself, but it made no sense for Chris to masturbate alone when he had you now, always so ready for him. Your delicate movements over the length of his cock were making him weak, he was being satisfied to perfection. The sound of his moans and skin on skin rubbing flooded his room.

Suddenly his glistening precum came out of his pink, foreplayed tip, making you salivate, making you so thirsty.

“Mm, daddy, can I use my mouth?”

“Please, princess” he whispered, grabbing your face but you quickly rose to your knees.

You kissed his glans, a sonorous soft kiss leaving pearly white stains on your lips which you savored by running your tongue on them to taste of him and finally you caught his throbbing limb with your mouth. You almost reached your orgasm as you felt his rigid shaft on your tongue, Chris was exquisitely delicious, his big cock and sweet personality made him the ideal man, you were so happy that he was the only one to ever touch you.

You stimulated him with care, Chris took hold of your hair gently, letting himself be carried away by the sensations you were provoking in him, while you delicately ran your tongue all over his cock, moistening it and then you sucked him at your pace, enjoying eating him, without him rushing you or pushing you too much. You were looking into his eyes and he would make eye contact with you when he wasn't throwing his head back or closing his eyes in pleasure.

“You're doing so good, baby, so-so good, mmm.”

You blushed at his rough voice, shyly played with his balls and kept taking his cock with your mouth, tongue and lips, enjoying every delicious big inch as if it was your favorite candy and weakening every corner of you, making you clench your legs tightly to feel your sweet wetness as you moved your legs.

His cock throbbed more in your mouth, you felt him so close, you could taste him.

“Open your mouth wide and stick out your tongue, princess.”

You heard him command and you did, pulling his cock out of your mouth in a resounding pop. You were so happy, your restless tongue waiting to receive your Chris's affection. He took the base of his well loaded cock, sucked air between his teeth, frustrated and excited and positioned a part of his cock and glans over your tongue, releasing himself on you, spraying you with every drop of his cum you managed to get out of him.

“Aghhh, good girl, good baby, fuck” Chris blurted out in exasperation, his pumping cock unloading onto your tongue, into your submissive position and your beady little eyes.

You swallowed it all and stood up with little balance. Chris settled his exposed cock and looked at your expression, you were so proud somehow, making him smile.

“Do you want daddy to make you feel better too?” he commented tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You shook your head. As much as you were so excited, your chest rising and falling in heavy, agitated breathing, you wanted to resist and now relax in his arms and into what he promised to be warm water.

“I'm fine, daddy. Did you like it?”

Chris chuckled. “I loved it, baby.”

You waited for Chris to get ready, leaving him in just shorts. And you kept the mindset of reassuring yourself, despite the sight of his worked abs and pecs.

He led you sweetly to the pool after your moment of adrenaline and rushed uproar of desire and hormones and you finally felt relaxed, every tense muscle from a heavy week was softening, the water felt so good to you, as did Chris's closeness. You couldn't help but cease your thoughts, his muscular body looked so good wet but soon you found yourself distracted by his topic of conversation; you both found yourself there, in the pool alone where you innocently played at innuendo without really thinking about all that some flirting would take you so far, now you were his.

You went back to talking about your little period of stress and Chris immediately offered to help you relax even more, you played with him, saying his attempts were in vain as you would be going back to college tomorrow anyway, he offered to let you stay, that he would take care of all that tomorrow and you he would take care of right now, offering you a gentle but strategic massage on your shoulders, squeezing your skin and pressing his thumbs into your muscles, it felt so good, you really needed some of him, he always knew what to do and more when it came to you.

You were moaning, genuinely from non-sexual pleasure, from relief. But Chris stopped suddenly, leaving you confused. He positioned himself in front of you, and you watched him, he looked like he was about to say something and he had to.

“I know what you meant earlier at the door” he began to speak, you looked at him expectantly and slightly confused, “I want to have you too and this is all so nice to me” Chris sighed, incredulous that he had to say it again in his now over thirty years, but it was worth it to him, because it was you, “I want to be with you. Will you be my girlfriend?”

You smiled suddenly, you expected anything but that, you nodded happily unable to form words and shyly reached out to hug him.

“I know the way you and I…”

You silenced him with a quick kiss, you didn't want to hear him justify the way the two of you met.

“It's okay” you answered him softly.

He smiled at you and caught your lips again, you kissed such sweetly, your bodies wet but losing more and more self control, leading him to hold you tighter from your back and waist and sizzlingly escalating every movement of lips and mouth.

You were making out from one moment to the next, a voracious hunger for each other constant and without thinking about it, you became aroused again, you didn't know what was happening, but it only happened that easy with Chris, just like from the first time you met him.

Chris knew how to read you very well and knew the restlessness in your body, the inner desperation that you suddenly have to be satisfied.

Pulling away, taking a breath and with pink lips, he looked at you tenderly and pouting softly.

“Mmm, are you sure you don't want me to make you cum tonight, baby girl? Make you feel good…”

You looked him straight in the eyes. Your gaze was dark. You were going to fuck him as your boyfriend at least, meaning the feelings were already there and it made your skin bristle with excitement.

“Or… do you want me to make it feel good” he added when he didn't get a response.

Chris acted fast, repositioning himself behind you, massaging your shoulders but you could tell the sexual and sensual connotation in his act, squeezing your skin and moments later he slid his hands down to your breasts, massaging them gently over the fabric of your garment. You turned your head to look at him, he was so close to you.

“Does that feel good?” he whispered to you.

“Yes…”

You were starting to lose yourself, you didn't even have to answer him, he already knew how you were right now. The sensation of your excited sex in the water felt so different. Chris positioned his face to the side of yours, watching as more and more of you let yourself go. He dared to pull up the little garment, leaving your breasts exposed to finally play with them freely, with his hand, kneading them vigorously to his liking, playing with the firmness of your nipple so sensitive to stimulation. You saw his big hands on your breasts, the bracelets on his wrists and his slender, manly fingers, squeezing your skin tightly; you were hopelessly horny again and wanted to have him right there.

You turned abruptly, again looking into his eyes, pleading for him to be the one to make you see stars this time, beyond the beautiful starry night you were living in.

“Chris… daddy…”

You were so excited, you weren't thinking straight, about to fuck him in the pool even though it didn't seem so appetizing for your taste, as the water would interrupt the deep lunges that your, now boyfriend, always used to give you. You looked so tender for him, helpless with your bikini top rolled up revealing your breasts.

“You can call me whatever you want, baby, just always remember to call me.”

Chris kissed you again, this time with your exposed breasts messily and shamelessly rubbing on his abs. He wanted to take you right there, but he knew that sex in the pool was such a desperate thing and he could make you feel so much better already out of it.

As he pulled away, he slid down from your top, smiling sweetly at you.

“Come on, let's go inside.”

You didn't think fast enough, the heat was taking over you, but you followed him, Chris sweetly wrapped your body in a towel as you felt the cold hit your body. He was so cute, the fact that you were so needy made you a little shy.

And finally, you were back inside. Chris frolicked with you, taking the towel and drying your hair and body delicately in little giggles. You said nothing and just let him do it. In the end you saw him embarrassed but happy. He looked at you tenderly.

“Aw, my sweet girl, come here.”

Chris was lost in you. He didn't know how, he did know when, but it happened, something he had never thought of as loving someone significantly younger to him seriously, he knew there would be some differences in the two of you, but he would manage to improve them over time. The next thing you felt was his lips and the loss of strength from holding your towel. Both towels on the floor, lips and bodies pressed together, your arms on his shoulders and your back against the wall, you were teasing each other again.

Your heart pounded, your bottom tingled in excitement and your mind was enjoying and processing that all these little moments with him would now henceforth be so natural for the two of you.

Chris lowered his caresses down to your ass, which he held and carried you from there without difficulty, making you wrap your legs around his torso and carried you up to his room.

He took care of everything, moving your dress and bag to a sofa in the room still with you in his arms, he left you lying gently on the bed, still with his body on top of you, not letting you think of anything else because he was already passionately kissing you again and the caresses of his right hand went down to your sensitive spot, pulling aside the thick fabric of the bathing suit to caress and stimulate your clit.

You felt that electric shock that only he could do, of being touched again. You were getting wetter, you felt the softness of your own wetness prepare your entrance and on the other hand, Chris was so hard again, he was so hard since he felt the softness of your young skin molding in his hands, from your sweet kisses of which he could have no end, so he continued to caress you, playing with the rhythm, making it slow, increasing the speed and treating your sensitive spot hard, pinching and pressing it, as he wanted to have you even needier.

His kisses lowered and you could moan at not having his lips against yours, this time being slightly moist, from your jaw to your neck, Chris was on the edge, so excited and ready to use his cock but he wanted to have you begging for it, so ready to finally feel it inside. You adored the feel of his soft lips on your neck, kissing, licking and nibbling lightly, not significantly intense enough to leave a mark but just to feel your skin, while his fingers finely work down into you, exciting you exquisitely. His kisses continued down until he reached your abdomen and his soft hair brushed against your skin, his lips and nose rubbing against you, finally finding his way to your much needed area that he kept stimulating. Chris smiled, pulling his hand away from you so he could remove your swimsuit bottoms that prevented him from fully seeing your swollen pussy begging for him.

You tensed, you were so nervous, but they were good nerves, you thought to yourself that every time his face came near your center it meant he was about to perform a series of moves that would leave you quivering and breathless, he was about to eat you, and you were absolutely right, Chris licked his lips at the image of your exposed pussy, he parted your legs so he could position himself in between them and squeezed your left thigh with his hand while he took it upon himself to give you kisses on the inside of your thighs. Then he kissed around the area of your pussy, teasing you to finally separate your folds and vagina completely with both of his hands, stretching it and giving it a dirty, hot and loud kiss, using the movement of his lips, daring to use his tongue as well, covering from the outside of your wet entrance and the inside of your vulva; you gasped and twitched a little at the sensation of his warm mouth on your sensitive genital area, Chris made a giggling sound over your pussy, knowing he had you like this filled him with pure pleasure.

Finally, his mouth moved up, caressing the rest of your vulva to reach your clit, tasting it with his tongue and sucking it using its cavity completely, this time you trembled before him and let out a ragged sigh, Chris was doing it again, knowing exactly what to do, even though you were not the most expert at sex, you were very sure that the gentle way he ate your pussy was so ideal and right. His long fingers caressed the rest of your pussy and he made eye contact with you as he sucked on your sensitive spot, worshipping you from that angle, his upper lips glued to the skin of your pubis, his tongue lost in your playfully soft clit. Chris played with your entrance, teasing it with two of his fingers, circling it over your entrance and dipping them in shallowly and gently, taking you to the extreme of your arousal. You stroked his hair and suddenly he was lost in your anatomy, lowering his mouth and licking everything from you, sucking your labia and giving you the pleasure that was slowly blurring your vision. His lips were full, his tongue thick and slick and his teeth strong and sharp making you come closer and closer to your orgasm as he continued to stimulate you with his fingers thrusting them into you gently, taking you deep and exploring your insides, then thrusting in and out, ramming them in a dynamic that made you come closer and closer to your climax. Chris loved your moans, your desperate high pitched cries as his fingers feasted on your slippery tight insides and his mouth on your taste, he was in complete control of you, you were being fully satisfied, so close to your orgasm that Chris could tell, so he pulled his mouth away from you, kept penetrating you with his fingers, more and more intensely until he heard your inevitable mess of fluids collide with his digits. He stood up a little, smirking smugly and quickly wiping his stained mouth on you with the back of his free hand.

“You're so close, baby, huh?”

Chris said in a low tone and watched you expectantly, your body never ceasing to move slightly writhing in pleasure. You nodded awkwardly, saw his handsome face amidst your blurred vision filled with pleasure, you were so close, Chris knew it and only roughly lifted your bikini top to expose your breasts again and massage them again. You bit your lip in desperation feeling you were being loud enough, his veiny arm buried in his core looked so good, you were cumming, but unexpectedly Chris abruptly pulled his fingers away from you, making you gasp.

“Don't cum yet, sweetheart” he whispered close to your face, “Cum with daddy's cock inside you.”

You were shaken, confused and you saw how quickly Chris slipped down his shorts and boxers, freeing his notorious cock, took it again and positioned himself over you, gently stroking his hard member over your wet pussy and then rubbing it into your folds.

“You want me to fuck you, huh, my sweet girl?” he said demanding, looking at you as if you were helpless.

Your heart was about to pound out of your chest, the feel of his cock in your vulva was torturing you, both sexes throbbing and eager.

“Yes, daddy please” you tried not to sound so needy, but you wanted him to fill you up completely, to make you climax.

Chris licked his lips and teased your entrance, slowly inserting the tip of his penis. You squealed in pleasure, even his tip was stretching your orifice, he continued to tease you, gently ramming inside you with just his glans and little more few inches of his cock.

“Chris, p-please” you begged.

He smiled, satisfied with your soft pleas, he settled his body better as he pushed himself into you slowly, stretching open your entrance and walls, making you whimper, his pumping, rigid cock once again reaching deep inside you. Chris sucked air between his teeth and then moaned between relieved and frustrated, relieved to be inside you, frustrated that you were still so tight and making him feel pleasantly dizzy, blinded in pleasure.

Chris began to move in you, his strong body on top of yours, his cock magically tearing your insides apart, sliding up and down your walls, you were feeling orgasm close again, you were so close anyway before, he began to pant near your ear, enjoying being deep in you, moving your body with each rough, hard pounding thrust he gave you. He began to babble, loving how you felt for him and you whimpered and squealed in pleasure, feeling all of you so full. Chris took your left hand that was clenching his sheet tightly and intertwined it tightly with yours, never stopping ramming you, starting slow, deep and passionately and increasing the pace more and more. Your other hand dug into his back enjoying every thrust into you, he was so deep in you that the skin of his pubis rubbed into you gently.

“Aw, baby, you feel so fucking good.”

He was intoxicated in you, your walls squeezed him tighter in search of your orgasm, you whimpered his name as his hair brushed your cheek. You arched your back in search of your release, the knot in your stomach combined with the bulge of his cock were unreal, he was practically tearing your body apart in such a pleasurable way.

“Cum, baby doll, cum for me” he gasped, leaning in to see your pleasure filled expression.

You climaxed after he began to ram into you bestially, you cum with his exposed cock inside and he continued arduously with deep but gentle thrusts into you until he reached his orgasm inside you, spilling every drop of his cum inside you. Chris sighed in relief, slowly pulling his cock out to let it rest on your mons pubis, his cock so wet and used as he watched his mark on you, his cum dripping down your used center. You were both exhausted and full of pleasure.

“Aw, my pretty baby, do you like it when daddy fills you all up?”

You couldn't deny it, you did love the feeling of him filling you with it, of his thick white cum sliding down your hole as a sign that he was there, taking care of you.

[...]

You had one more problem, just when you were completely forgetting your guilt after an incredible night with Chris, your father sent you a message reminding you that it was Dahlia's birthday party exactly the next day, he had been reminding you but you ignored every single one of his messages since he opposed the idea of you being with Chris and asked you all the time about your whereabouts.

You didn't want to go, you didn't feel welcome. But you ended up doing it, sadly canceling on Chris whatever he had planned to hang out with you and you were honest with him, telling him you had to hang out with your dad since it was Dahlia's birthday. You weren't cynical enough not to go or stay away from her as she was nothing but merely sweet and cute to you, she liked you well enough, your mother liked her and your father loved her; you met her when you were already grown up in your teens and she sweetly introduced herself to you saying that you can call her by her name and that she did not pretend at any time to occupy the role of your mother, but that she would love and appreciate you as enormously and purely as one, since then she always remembers your birthdays, events and important dates, she always gives you gifts at Christmas and a nice detail on Valentine's Day, you were so weak as to cut ties with her for something that shouldn't be the biggest problem, you were dating someone, you wanted to be with him and go out, you didn't understand the problem in that, you just wanted everyone to forget the little detail of how it was that you met.

Plus you always made a little room for important dates like birthdays, your dad would pick you up from college and you would stay the weekend at his house.

You could have broken tradition, lying that you really couldn't because you had too much work to do with college but you also didn't want to be the kind of woman who had to hide and stay away from her family for a man. You had nothing to hide, you were now Chris's girlfriend, no big deal.

You put your pride on high, you told your father that you could go on your own to his house, which confused him and you dared to tell him that Chris would come to drop you off, he was stunned at the call, wanting to refuse but agreed in a low voice, as if he didn't want to be heard, and you understood that the side where they were more opposed to your relationship was more from Chris' ex-girlfriend's family, because you recognized your father's tone so well, almost as if he didn't take the great importance to the subject.

And then you got out of Chris's car, after he worriedly told you if you were sure about going, to which you nodded decisively, saying goodbye to him in a long kiss, carrying the luxurious medium-sized carry-on suitcase he had given you along with some clothes. But your surprise was when you opened the door and had to see in front of you the woman who had also once tested your now boyfriend.

She was the last person you wanted to see just now, you thought you had to confront her until dinner tonight, that you could peacefully get home, further convincing your father of the good man Chris was... but your plans were disappearing one by one as you saw her unfriendly face.

This was not your kind of weekend.

-------------------------

𐙚TAGLIST: @rylea08 @hann1bee @iovecb97 @armystay89 @bubblebisk @lolareadsimagines @jisuperboard @lilac13 @ayyonoona @do-you-remember-summer-127 @wildtokay @korthbum @hyune-ssne

[vivwritesfics]

Everybody Wants To Rule The World

Zac Brown ruled the McLaren empire. His daughter was constantly getting into trouble, getting herself kidnapped and whatnot. But she was pretty good at getting into those situations. Oscar was hired so that she wouldn't get into said situations. She thought he would be easy to break. But there was a reason Zac hired Oscar. He was the best of the best and he wasn't going to fall for her shit.

6.5K

Warnings: kidnapping, violence, mafia fic themes, smutty themes and talks of sex (but no actual smut) guns and death (nobody important)

Another dingy warehouse. Another splintering wooden chair. And another ugly man giving her father demands over the phone.

Demands that wouldn't be met. The fact that he was even trying was laughable. Demands hadn't been met since she was fifteen years old. Her father would rather receive her head in a box than meet the demands that would have saved her life.

She tested the rope tying her wrists behind her back. it was a good, sturdy knot; she'd be the first to admit that it was a well tied knot. Grabbing the end of the rope, she tugged. It didn't budge.

She didn't panic. If she was to panic, it would have made things so much worse. Oh, her dad was gonna be so mad when she got home.

Her captor ended the call and let out a breathy, terrifying laugh. He slipped the phone into his pocket and turned on his heel to face her. "Sounds like daddy isn't going to come and save his little princess."

She simply raised her eyebrows at him. Clearly, he hadn't heard of her reputation. That was fine. She wasn't salty about it.

"Should we send him one of your ears? Show him just how serious we are?"

The rope gave slightly, allowing her to slip her hand out. She didn't, not yet, not while he was watching her. "Who is we?" She asked, pretending to look around the warehouse. She knew exactly how many people were watching her.

Barking out a laugh, she slipped one hand out of her bindings and grabbed the rope before it could fall, maintaining the illusion that she was still tied up. She stopped her eyes from moving to the men standing in the shadows. If they had weapons, she couldn't see them.

"Fuck it," she said and unravelled the rope in her hands, keeping it hidden behind her. "Let's do it, let's cute off my ear. Maybe then you'll get your money."

The grin that came across her face was sickening, but she steadied her nerves. He kept staring at her as he reached behind him. "Someone give me a knife," he said.

There was a moment before either of the men in the shadows moved. But then they strode closer and placed a knife into the bosses hands. He whispered something to him, and she didn't need to hear it to know what it was.

"I got it," the boss said, shrugging him off. He retreated to the shadows as the boss approached her knife balanced between his fingers. "Do you think you'll still be pretty without one of your ears?" He asked, his grin showing off his too white teeth. So white and perfect that they couldn't have been real.

She shrugged her shoulders. "Probably," she answered.

A hand hit her cheek. Her nostrils flared as she stared at him, head tipped to the side and cheek stinging.

He leaned down, knife held out. Before the sharp metal could make contact with her skin, she grabbed the rope in both hands and kicked him away. He stumbled back in surprise and dropped the knife as she stood up.

The second she was on her feet, she wrapped the rope around his neck and pulled him towards her. The knife was beneath her high heeled shoe, keeping it away from the men that rushed towards them.

"I wouldn't," she said, tightening the rope around the bosses neck. "I really fucking wouldn't. Holding both ends of the rope in one hand, she pulled him around just enough for her to pick up the knife. "This your only weapon?" she asked as she looked at it.

The other men looked at each other and raised their fists. She couldn't stop her loud, mocking laughter. "You guys are fucking stupid," she said and stabbed the boss in the thigh.

He fell to the floor with a cry. "Here's how this is gonna work," she began, "I'm gonna walk out of here and you guys are gonna get him medical attention." She reached down and stabbed his other thigh. "And if any of you want to stop me, I can always give you guys the same treatment."

Silently, they stepped to the side and allowed her through. She kept a hold of the knife and held her head up high as she walked out of the warehouse.

***

Daniel Ricciardo was so dead. His whole job was to take care of her, and she had disappeared.

He'd turned her room upside down, looking for her. When she got back from whenever she was, she was going to kill him for the state he'd left her closet in.

At least her dad didn't know.

Holding his phone up to his ear, he tried calling her. Again. And again, she didn't pick up. At what point did he start panicking? At what point did he stop searching and inform her father that she was missing?

Daniel didn't have to think about it for too long. His heart leapt into his throat when there came a knock at her door. "Darling?" Came the voice of her father, Daniel's boss. "Can I come in?"

Panic held him in a vice as he climbed over her things, scattered all over the floor, and pulled open the door.

"Sir," Daniel said, holding the door just open enough to show his face. "How can I help you?"

Zac frowned at him. "Tell me honestly, is she in there?"

Daniel's answer was to swallow.

Zac pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're fired, Daniel," he said and strode away, phone pressed against his ear.

She strode into the house just a few minutes later. Feet bare and dirty, high heels dangling from her finger by the straps. Her wrists were rubbed raw and there were splattering of blood on her skin.

"Shit, kid," said Daniel as he pulled her in. "I was so damn worried about you."

She kissed his cheek and then reached up to wipe away the lipstick left behind. "Sorry, Danny," she said with an amused smile. "I got bored."

She grabbed his hand to pull him along. After her evening she just wanted to sit Daniel on her bed and ride his cock until she forgot above everything.

There was a distinctive click, a revolver being cocked. "You're fired, Daniel," came the voice of her father. "Get the fuck out of my house."

She pulled her hand out of Daniel's and looked at him. "You got fired?" She asked, heels swinging as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"He did, Princess," Zac answered, his gun still pointed at Daniel. "His one job was to protect you, and he failed," he finished, pulling his daughter behind him. "He needs to leave before I blow his brains out."

She rolled her eyes. Her dad was so damn dramatic sometimes. There was no way Daniel, or anybody else, would have been able to stop her from sneaking out when she wanted to.

Daniel looked at her, desperation in his eyes. But she was too busy picking at the blood beneath her nails. So, he turned his attention to her father. "Zac, please," he tried, stepping forward. "I just want to protect her."

Zac pulled the trigger and the bullet lodged itself in the wall beside Daniel's head. Daniel knew just how good a shot Zac was, knew he was missing on purpose. He adjusted his aim slightly. "Five." Daniel's eyes went wide. He turned on his heel and began rushing through the house. Zac followed, but he stayed at a walk and kept his aim trained on Daniel. "Four."

She'd had so many bodyguards in the last few years. When she was a little girl she'd had Lewis watching over her. And then she had Jensen for a good few years, and then Fernando. When Fernando left to work under a different boss, to work for the enemy (as her father said), Carlos watched over her.

She'd liked Carlos, had pulled him into her bed. He'd kissed her sweetly and taken her virginity, the two of them hidden beneath the sheets of her big bed.

It had gone on for a year before her father found out. Carlos had been her first everything. The first man to kiss her, the first man to see her in a state of undress, the first man bring her any sort of pleasure. She had really, truly loved him. She had wanted to run away with him.

But when her father was found out, Carlos was sent away. He was sent to work for someone else, someone that they had something of a partnership with. She had loved Carlos, and her father had loved him, too. He'd loved him with a son, and that was why he couldn't kill him. If it had been anybody else caught in his daughters bed, he wouldn't have hesitated.

As her father followed Daniel out of the house, she turned on her heel and marched towards her bedroom, humming to herself. All she needed now was to scrub the other man's blood from her skin and find something to soothe her wrists.

"What the fuck!" She cried as she pushed open her bedroom door.

Her room was a state. Her drawers had been emptied, things pushed from their shelves. Her wardrobe had been emptied, the clothes either crumpled on the floor or thrown over her unmade bed. It was like a hurricane had torn through the room.

If her dad didn't kill Daniel, she certainly would.

She ignored everything but the wardrobe. The rest of it could be dealt with tomorrow, but her poor wardrobe. That was her space, her creative space, and Daniel had defiled it. How dare he.

As soon as her wardrobe was back in order, she walked into her en suite and turned on the shower. A yawn left her lips as she stripped out of her dress and climbed under the steaming water.

The rest of her night was a blur. She yawned again as she washed her body. Ready to sleep, she climbed out of the shower and wrapped herself in a fluffy towel. She fell into bed, crawled beneath her blankets, and immediately found herself asleep.

While she was sleeping, Zac was hard at work. He had people to do these things for him, sure, but he did it himself when it came to his daughter.

There must have been somebody that could look after his daughter. Someone experienced, like Fernando, or Lewis. Or Carlos.

He called Andrea, his right hand man, into his office. It had been Andrea's idea to look into their juniors, to see if any of them would be good enough to protect his daughter. That was how they got Lando, their best man

None of their juniors were. So, they looked a little further afield, at rookies working for other... empires.

Oscar Piastri. He had incredible statistics, stats that Zac and Andrea shouldn't have had access to. But they did, and they wanted him.

Andrea was privy to certain information about the different empires. He kept the secrets about his own empire, the McLaren empire, well guarded, but knew all the dirty secrets about the Ferrari empire, about the Williams empire, and, most importantly, about the Alpine empire.

He knew how staff were treated, knew what was expected of the juniors. That was why Oscar Piastri had such good statistics, because of how hard Bruno pushed him. Andrea and Zac both knew that Bruno was a piece of work. They knew how easy it was going to be to get Oscar away from him.

They sent him one message, holding nothing more than a job offer, and waited with baited breaths. Nobody else got to see this side of the boss, holding his hands together as if he was praying as they waited for Oscar to reply.

Three grey dots appeared on the screen. Oscar's reply appeared, only holding five words. The reply wasn't surprising: What's in it for me? Clearly, Oscar was a smart kid, Zac and Andrea could tell.

They laid it out for him, the benefits this job would come with. He'd be working for a bigger, more powerful empire, he would get paid more than he would working for Alpine, and there was more they could provide him with. Food and lodgings, anything he could have needed.

Interviews in this line of work wasn't an easy thing to arrange. But, as a junior, Oscar operated with a curfew. The interview was arranged for after the curfew. It was awkwardly done, a video call while Oscar hid himself in the junior barracks bathroom.

They outlined the job as much as they could with Oscar being part of the McLaren empire. Zac gave no information on his daughter as he tried to outline the requirements of the job. He made it clear that it wasn't going to be easy, and Oscar made it clear that he wanted the job.

All he had to do to accept the position was to show up at the house. Well, show up at the location provided that Zac and Andrea had given to him. The little café in the heart of town. A sweet little place, not the sort of place he would have expected to meet them.

They set Lando Norris, the best of their men, to pick him up. Lando took his favourite car, his baby. It was fast and sleek and far too expensive. It was an intimidation tactic, and it was working.

He pulled up, sunglasses covering his eyes as he climbed out of the car. The way he looked around was lazy. He pulled out his phone when he couldn't immediately find Oscar. Oscar couldn't tell what he was doing from where he was sitting. But he pulled his sunglasses down his face and looked around again.

Straightening up his tie, Oscar slipped out of his seat. He abandoned his coffee and strode over to the car. He had no doubt who this person was. His number plate was LAN, for goodness sake.

Lando stared at him as he approached. "Good weather we're having," he said, shoving his hands into his pocket.

"I think it might cloud over soon," Oscar answered.

Neither of them were looking up at the sky.

Lando checked him for weapons and listening devices as discretely as he could. When he determined that Oscar was clean, he gestured for him to get into the passenger seat of the car.

Oscar climbed in. He looked at Lando, staying quiet as he looked away. Lando was the best of the best, rivalled only by Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc. Being in the car with him was surreal.

The drive was silent. Lando fiddled with the radio until it played something softly. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as he drove through Woking.

He pulled up to the house and parked his car up alongside more expensive cars. His car, which had once been the most impressive vehicle Oscar had ever seen, looked like crap compared to these.

"Good luck with the Princess," said Lando as he climbed out of the car.

Oscar swallowed and followed his lead. He climbed out of the car and walked up to the house. When he raised his fist to knock, he looked over his shoulder at Lando.

"Just go in," said Lando as he stroked the hood of his car.

Steadying his nerves, Oscar walked in.

***

This day was bullshit.

Her father kept her in his office for the day. As hard as she tried to leave, one look and he pulled her back, sitting herself in that little seat just behind his desk.

She could only file her nail for so long before she was completely and utterly bored. Standing up, she stretched her arms above her head. "I'm gonna-"

"Not until your new bodyguard starts," her father said, not even bothering to turn around.

She groaned and threw herself back onto her seat, hands dramatically covering her eyes. "Dad, I'm literally dying of boredom out here," she mumbled and groaned again, this time louder. "When is he starting?"

"Soon," Zac promised as he straightened out a stack of paper. "Andrea is just putting him through orientation."

She groaned again, for the third time in the space of a minute. "Quit bein' so dramatic," her dad said, shaking his head. "We wouldn't be having to do this if you didn't sneak out the other day."

Her gaze settled into a glare. If her new guard didn't show up soon, she was gonna steal her dad's gun and just leave. But her dad seemed to know what she was thinking. He pulled his gun from his belt and shoved it into his desk drawer.

Two minutes later, there was a knock at the door. "Touch my gun and you're dead," he said as he stood up. Still wearing that glare, she threw her nail file at him. It didn't go very far, fell to the floor just in front of her seat.

Her father opened the door. "Oscar Piastri?" He asked, holding his hand out. From her seat, she couldn't see as her dad shook the young man's hand and welcomed him into the office.

He was pretty, she could tell that immediately. He was pretty, but he looked easy. Easy to manipulate, and that was the most important thing. "Oscar," her father said, leading him across the room, over to her. "This is my daughter."

She stood from her seat and folded her arms over her chest. "You're my new bodyguard?" She asked, clearly unimpressed.

"I am," he said and held his hands out towards her. "I'm Oscar."

For a moment, she just stared at his hand. Oscar kept it held out, waiting for her to shake it. "Oh, boy," he heard from his right as her father sat back in his seat.

Keeping her arms folded over her chest, she marched past him, her shoulder hitting his. Oscar allowed himself to be pushed out of the way. With her father there, he wasn't going to dare to do anything but go with what she wanted. As she strode out of the office, her hips swaying, Oscar followed.

He kept his eyes on the back of her head. Don't look down. Don't look at the way she's moving her hips. Don't look down.

She knew what had happened, why she needed a new bodyguard. Even with everything Andrea had told him, Oscar didn't think she could be that bad. He was very, very quickly proven wrong.

"Where are we going?" Oscar asked as she pushed her way into her bedroom. Maids had cleaned up since Daniel had torn it apart in an attempt to look for her. Her pyjamas were on a heap in the floor, one she stepped over to get to her black purse.

"Out," she said, the first word she'd spoken to him, as she placed the bag on her shoulder and strode past him.

Oscar followed, keeping close to him. Too close, and he had five seconds to fix it. But he didn't fix it. He stayed walking far too close to her, so close she could feel him breathing down her neck.

"Fucking hell, stop," she said and Oscar stopped. She turned on her heel, turned towards him, and held out her arms. At first, it was just to see how close he was. When her arms hit him, she pushed so that he stumbled back.

He steadied himself and stepped towards her again. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" She asked, folding her arms over her chest and glaring.

"I've been hired to protect you," said Oscar, keeping himself calm.

Her glare was nasty, vicious. "You need to stay three paces behind me, okay?" She stepped closer to him. "I'm gonna get on and do whatever the fuck I want to do, and you're gonna let me, okay?" They were stood chest to chest. Her fingers touched his chest, danced up towards his neck while she let a coy smile grace her features.

He held his breath until her nail dug into his throat. Oscar reached up and grabbed a hold of her wrist, pulling it away from his neck. "I've been hired to protect you," he said again. "And that's exactly what I'm going to do."

The smile dropped from her face, replaced with a glare. She turned back around and marched away, steps quick to get away from him. Oscar stayed just a pace behind her.

Oscar hadn't been ill prepared for this job. Andrea had given him plenty of warning of just how much trouble she was going to be. But he was prepared.

She didn't speak to him for the rest of the day. That was fine, Oscar was happy to follow her around and watch her antics. He followed her to a café, where she met with friends, followed her out to the park and listened to their chatter and gossip. He didn't take in much of the information, not unless he thought it was important.

Not until they started whispering about him.

His cheeks blushed red, but he stayed standing there. If he wasn't watching her, he was looking around, looking for any sign of danger. She whispered to her friends, giggling behind their hands. What they were saying, Oscar didn't care.

She still hadn't spoken to him as he drove her back to the house. Her car was a dream to drive. She handled beautifully, better than anything Oscar had driven when he was with Alpine. He couldn't hide his grin as he drove towards the house.

As soon as the car had stopped, she climbed out and marched towards the house. Oscar parked as quickly as he could and climbed out of the car, following her up the stairs and into the house.

She disappeared into her bedroom, slamming the door in his face. Oscar let out a breath and raised his fist, knocking on the door. "Hey," he called and tried the handle. "Let me in!"

Nothing. Of course it didn't work. It shouldn't have been surprising. Oscar didn't panic. He did what he was best at and stayed calm. Shrugging off his jacket, he left it by the door and walked out of the house.

It was a gamble, whether her window was open or not. He walked around the back of the house, counting the windows until he found hers.

Oscar wasn't built to climb. He wasn't good at it, but he still tried, using the window ledge beneath to climb up to her own. His knuckles it the glass before he tried to push the window up, but it wouldn't budge.

Fuck.

He knocked away and watched as she turned around. Her eyes went wide but she didn't move, took a moment to watch him. Oscar tried again to open the window.

Finally, she walked over. She pushed open the window, allowing Oscar into her bedroom. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" She asked, heading towards her wardrobe as Oscar grabbed his jacket from outside of her room.

She couldn't deny that he looked good. With his jacket hanging over his arm, she could really see him, and she appreciated it. He was no Carlos, but he'd do.

Grabbing a dress from her wardrobe, she held it up to her body. "Did you ever think that maybe I shut you out of my room because I didn't want you in here?" She asked as she hung it over her wardrobe door and went digging for some shoes.

"Did you ever think that I can't trust you enough to leave you in here on your own?" He responded as he leaned against the wall.

She scowled at him as she stepped back out of the wardrobe, a pair of high heels hanging by the straps from her fingers. "Fucking creep," she mumbled and pulled down the zip on her skirt.

She didn't look away from him as she pushed her skirt down. Oscar didn't look away. She was challenging him, he knew, and he wasn't going to let her win. Once her skirt was on the floor, she unbuttoned her shirt and let it fall away from her shoulders.

She stepped towards him, much like she had in the corridor earlier. "Do you know something, Oscar?" She mused as she stepped closer to him. He kept watching her, eyes locked onto her own. "I always get what I want. Do you wanna know what I want right now?"

His arms were crossed over his chest as he looked down at her. Even when she settled her arms on his chest, moving them up to his shoulders, he remained stoic. "What?" He asked. His wife didn't betray just how nervous he was feeling, just how much he was sweating.

Wrapping her arms around him, she leaned up to whisper in his ear. "You."

Oscar took her arms from around his neck. He kept a hold of them as he walked her back, so that she was sitting on her bed. "You're a brat," he said and stepped back, leaving her there.

Their interactions through the evening were very limited. Any attention she wanted, Oscar wasn't going to give to her. That she caught onto very quickly.

Daniel had been the same when he first started. Of course, he'd never resorted to climbing through her window. Oscar was dedicated, and that made him a problem.

A problem that wouldn't let her sneak out, a problem that wouldn't sleep with her.

She was in agony.

The next day followed much in the same pattern. Oscar walking too close, Oscar watching everything she did. She couldn't escape his watchful eye. When she went to the bathroom he was standing outside, periodically nodding.

On her third day with Oscar guarding her, she was bored out of her mind. When she want to the bathroom, he followed to stand guard outside of the door. This was becoming her normal and she hated it.

There was a window in the bathroom. Small, too high for her to reach without assistance. For a moment she contemplated it. Contemplated how she was going to execute this admittedly stupid plan.

Beneath the sink was a little step stool. It was from when she was younger, when she was too small to reach her tooth brush in the cabinet above the sink. She pulled it out and positioned it beneath the little window.

It didn't give her much height, just enough to grasp the window ledge and hoist herself up.

There was a knock at the door. "Just a minute!" She called back, but it sounded weird. She hadn't been this... polite to him since that first night in her room.

She hurried herself up. Pushing open the window, she slipped out and dropped down onto the gravel below.

The stones bit into her skin. But she didn't care. Pushing herself up and wiping the stones away, she could hear Oscar pounding on the door. When she didn't reply, the knocks became something more. Louder, harsher, his entire body pushing against it.

She didn't stick around long enough to find out. Straightening up her skirt, she walked around from the house.

The cameras were following her, she knew. Security guards must have been watching her, must have been radioing Oscar of her whereabouts.

She didn't bother running. There was no point when the gates would have taken their time to swing open. No, she walked calmly, like she had all the time in the world.

Suddenly, her feet were no longer touching the floor. A grunt left his lips as he picked her up and turned her around. "I don't think so," he said and put her back down.

She stared up at him, arms folded over her chest. He could see the indents of the gravel against her arm, the grazes on her skin. But then she stepped around him.

Oscar picked her up again. He scooped her up and placed her over his shoulder, ignoring her shriek as he carried her back into the house.

"Fucking put me down!" She shouted, fists pounding against his back. "Oscar! Put me down! Now!"

His only response was to tighten his grip on her and march through the house. He didn't care as he took her past her fathers men, past Lando and Pato. When they sniggered at her, she held up her middle finger towards them.

Once he got to her bedroom, Oscar put her down. She glared up at him, arms folded over her chest. "I need to use the bathroom," she said.

Oscar grinned down at her. She looked somewhat embarrassed, unable to meet his eye. "Come on," he said and gestured for her to lead the way.

She walked down the hall, wearing a nasty scowl and looking at the floor. As soon as she got to the bathroom, she turned to shut the door, to try and lock him out. But Oscar shouldered his way in. "Hey!" She cried and tried to push him out of the bathroom. "What do you think you're doing?!"

He grabbed the step stool, folded it up and tucked it beneath his arms. He pulled the window shut and locked it, pocketing the key. "I'll be right outside," he said and placed a single pat to the top of her head. It was condescending as all hell and she wanted to kill him.

***

A year had passed. An uneventful year. For six months she'd attempted to sneak out. The first month of that was to get away from the house, to get out to the club and see her girl friends on the nights that Oscar said no.

But those other five months weren't because she wanted to get away. Whenever she snuck out, Oscar would be the one to carry her into the house. It was like he didn't trust her to walk back on her own. That was how she ended up over his shoulder or in his arms, being carried like a princess.

The kidnapping attempts had stopped, too. There had been a couple sicne Oscar started his job as her bodyguard. But he had thwarted all of them, kept her safe when somebody tried to climb in through her window.

On this day, Zac called Oscar into his office. He gave him a time and Oscar readied himself for it. He spend his morning with her, following her as she ate her breakfast.

She no longer tried to fight him at every turn. Oscar was grateful for it. He was able to see how pretty her smile was and that filled him with warmth. She was cute when she didn't want to kill him, he realised.

"Come on," he said once she'd finished her breakfast. He picked up her plate, dumped it in the sink, and offered her his hand.

"What do you think my dad wants?" She asked as she linked her fingers through his own.

Oscar pulled her out of the kitchen and through the house. He checked his watch. Just fifteen minutes until Zac wanted to see him. He swallowed. "I don't know," he answered and led her through the halls.

Maybe Zac wasn't happy with the work he was doing. Maybe he didn't think Oscar was doing a good enough job at protecting her. Maybe he didn't like that Oscar sometimes held her hand as they walked together.

He took her through the house and to the library. There Lando was sitting, tapping away at his phone. "Hey, Princess," he called as Oscar sat her down and squeezed her shoulders. "You sitting with me?"

"Looks like it," she mumbled and let out a yawn. She watched as Oscar disappeared out of the library, shutting the door behind him.

As soon as the door was shut, Lando leaned forward and snapped his fingers in front of her face. "What's up?" He asked as she turned to face him. "What's got you thinking so hard?"

She shrugged her shoulders and sank down in her seat. "How long did it take for Carlos to fuck me?" She mumbled, resting her cheek against her first. "What, a couple months? Maybe less than that?" She mumbled.

Lando snorted. "It took him a month to fall in love with you," he mumbled, his foot knocking against her own. "And Daniel slept with you on his first night on the job," he answered, finally locking his phone screen and letting it fall into his lap.

"What's taking Oscar so long?"

He properly laughed when those words left her lips. "Oscar is too much of a professional to sleep with you," he said and mockingly wiped at his eyes. She scowled at him. "He's falling for you, though."

Her head snapped towards him. "Huh?"

He nodded. "Yeah, princess." The name was mocking and she flipped him off. "Look, he wouldn't be holding your hand and shit if he wasn't, okay? That boy is falling for you. You need to trust me; he told me himself."

She leaned forward. "Lando, I need you to tell me exactly what he said."

Lando went to reply, but the library doors opened and Oscar strode in. "What now, Sweetheart?" He asked and offered her his hand.

She allowed herself to be pulled out of her seat and grinned at Lando. Sweetheart? He mouthed, and she let her tongue stick out from between her teeth.

***

Another dingy warehouse. Another splintering wooden chair. And another ugly man giving her father demands over the phone.

It had been so damn long since she'd gotten kidnapped, she was almost at a loss for what to do. Almost, but not quite.

The minute she realised she was getting kidnapped, she took a bobby pin from her hair and tucked it into the back of her skirt. The kidnappers slapped cuffs on her wrists and sat her on the uncomfortable chair.

She easily got her hands out of the cuffs, but these guys had weapons. They were certainly smarter than the last guys to kidnap her.

Oscar better get there soon.

She didn't know that as soon as they called to demand money, Zac had Oscar tracing the call. He let his computer do it's thing while he loaded his gun with bullets. He was going to do all he could to get her back.

As soon as he had the location, he set off with Lando and Pato. His knee bounced as Pato drove them, Oscar giving him the directions. God, they'd taken her so far away. There was no telling what they'd done to her for the time she'd been missing.

The outside of the warehouse wasn't well guarded at all. Lando and Pato counted all of the guards inside and Oscar caught sight of her.

The cuffs were still hanging from one of her wrists as she sat there. Why wasn't she moving? Why wasn't she getting up out of her seat and marching out of there like in all of the stories he'd heard about her?

"I'm going in," he whispered and pulled his gun from its holster.

But Lando pulled him back. "Wait," he said and gestured to Pato. "We'll make a distraction out the front and you go around the back," he said and Oscar nodded.

Lando and Pato's idea of a distraction was... interesting. At the sound of the music, several men headed outside. The ones that were left inside were easy for Oscar to take care of. When Pato started dancing, Oscar headed to the back of the warehouse.

He was a damned good shot. While Pato and Lando took out the men at the front, Oscar shot the others in the warehouse. When the first man hit the ground, the one who seemed to be running the operation pulled her out of her seat and pressed his gun to her head.

"Show yourself!" He demanded. He pushed the gun against her head more until it was tipped to the side.

Holding up his hands, Oscar walked into the warehouse. When he was told to put his gun on the floor and kick it away, he did. "You okay, Sweetheart?" He asked, looking at her.

"Never better," she answered, but her voice was shaking. Fuck, he needed to get her out of there.

"You're the big hero," said the man in charge. "You're here to save the day and ride away into the sunset." His laugh was utterly terrifying. "What if I just blew her head off right it front of you? Do you think this rich little bitch bleeds gold?"

Her eyes shut. This was it, she was going to die.

Red splattered across her face, but it wasn't her blood. The man in charge dropped his gun and slumped forward, the weight of his falling body pulling her to the floor with a shriek. Oscar shouted her name. He rushed over and pushed the dead body away from her own.

"Oh, sweetheart," he whispered and wiped at the blood on her cheek. Tears were falling and Oscar wiped them away as he checked her over for any injuries. Aside from a bruised wrist and trauma, she was okay.

Pulling her into his chest, Oscar looked past her. There was Lando, lowering his gun. His eyes moved to her, eyebrows raising in question. But Oscar shook his head and pushed her hair behind her ears.

Reaching up, she kissed his cheek. "Hey," Oscar whispered, pulling away from her. "C'mon, Sweetheart, not now," he whispered and pulled her to her feet.

She blinked up at him and wiped away her tears. "Come on, Oscar. Let me kiss you," she whispered, her lip wobbling.

His thumbs moved over the back of her hand in such a soothing manner. "I love you," he replied. "Really, I do. But I don't want to kiss you if you just want to sleep with me."

Her head hit his chest. "Don't do this now," she mumbled. "Not in this disgusting warehouse with a dead body behind us." She let her arms settle around his neck, fingers playing with the hair at the back of his neck.

The way he was looking at her, it had her ready to cry. She hid her head against his chest and shut her eyes, ignoring the way her heart was beating. "I don't want to just kiss you to sleep with you," she whispered and sucked in a deep breath. "I-I like you, Oscar."

His fingers touched her chin and tipped her face towards him. "Sweetheart," he whispered and kissed the top of her head. And then he kissed her cheek, the one that wasn't covered in blood.

And then he kissed her, lips slotting against her own. She sobbed into his mouth and Oscar squeezed her tighter. It said all that it was supposed to. I'll watch over you, I'll keep you safe. I love you.

Taking her hand, Oscar led her out of the warehouse. In that moment he vowed to never let anything like this happen to her again.

[ramp-it-up]

Dessert or Disaster?

Summary: James Bucky Barnes is an avowed bachelor and one night stand artist. You came along and knocked him on his face. You two are in love, but you two are both stubborn. Will you both put aside your pride to make this work? Can one or both of you be humbled?

Word count: 3.5 K

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: This fic is connected to the Knock You Down AU, and comes immediately after ...As Hard As I Did but I feel it can be read as a stand alone. It is in answer to this ask. Seb Stan's latest pics and this press run is making me feral. I can write these two ALL DAY!!!! Y'all are gonna have to deal with this for a while, sorry not sorry.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. This is the filthiest these two have gotten. Ms. Independent Syndrome, Mr. Chauvanist condition. Argument, angst, the silent treatment, tipsy girl's night out revenge, jealous Bucky, jealous reader, handsy random Drunk guy, who gets laid out. Sam shows up. Dom/sub elements, mild BDSM exploration. Spanking, orgasm denial, humiliation kink, praise kink, talk of voyeriusm kink, begging, use of Daddy, use of google translate Romanian. Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-------

James Buchanan Barnes didn’t own you.

But he thought he did. 

It was infuriating.

After a month of dating, you’d had your first fight. Bucky always paid whenever you went out, and last Sunday, when you both reached for the check at brunch, there was a slight tussle. 

You laughed as Bucky scowled, thinking he was joking, but he was dead serious about paying. You became indignant, and you may have called him a controlling crime boss.

Bucky definitely called you an entitled brat and you may have stormed away and walked home, refusing to get back in the car with him. Bucky followed you in his sportscar as you pretended he wasn’t there. 

You were shaking with rage by the time you reached your brownstone and Bucky parked illegally.

“Frumoasă, let’s talk–”

“There is nothing to talk about, James. If you can’t respect my boundaries, then I don’t know what to say. I need space. Time to think.”

You glanced at him, but you looked away from the hurt on his face. 

“What does that mean?”

You cringed at the hurt in his voice. 

“I– we. Listen, you were right. We went way fast with this. It’s a lot, Jamie.”

You loved the fuck out of this man, but you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

Bucky’s voice cracked and you looked up into his ocean blue, watery eyes.

“No?”

“Are you sure?”

“No. I’m not sure, James.”

“I thought you were mine?”

You paused and took a deep breath. 

“You don’t own me. You can’t do whatever you want…”

Bucky just looked at you as if he were about to debate that fact. Then, he raised his hands and backed away.

“Our dinner date still stands. Maybe Saturday night, we can talk about this like adults…”

Your ire was raised once again.

“I am an adult, Bucky. And you are too. You should listen to me when I-”

Bucky interrupted you and ran his hand through his hair, which he had been growing out. Just for you. He was extremely frustrated.

“This relationship has been predicated on nothing but your boundaries.”

It was a standoff. You two stared at each other, an invisible wall between you. You didn’t like how it felt.

“Like I said, we need a break.”

“We agree on something, at least.”

Bucky turned and walked back to his car, and you both closed your doors at the same time, hearts beating out of tune.

—-

You only cried for a couple of hours that day, but when you woke up to no good morning text from Bucky on Monday morning, you cried again. You were hurt, angry and anxious. Were you two over and done with? You threw yourself into work, trying not to feel your emotions.

By Tuesday, Bucky was being driven mad with images of you, sensations of holding you in his arms, feeling your body around him, your voice telling him that you loved him.

Steve sensed his mood, but did not press him, just complied when Bucky asked him to speed up the timeline to divest themselves of all illegal enterprises.

On Wednesday, you were feeling some kind of way. How dare he just ignore you and pretend you didn’t exist. Was he trying to punish you or something? You didn’t realize how much Bucky’s attention mattered to you. But you bet he knew very well. You decided to have big, big fun that night with your girls.

Of course, Bucky still had eyes on you, so he knew you were safe, but he told Nico and crew to fall back a little. He didn’t want to crowd you. But he was going crazy at the fact that you didn’t reach out to him. He was giving you the space you requested and hoped that you would come back to him of your own accord. He wasn’t going to force you to do anything. It was a matter of principle, not pride.

At least that was what he told himself.

There were some things you needed to understand, however.  Bucky was just trying to take care of you. You loved him, and he loved you. This thing was destiny. And you couldn’t run from that.

Wednesday night, he got a text from you. He sighed as he headed toward your location.

—-

You wore a more revealing outfit than you usually did. You were wearing a backless top that showcased your braless breasts and the cool night had sharpened your nipples into hard peaks, pressing through the thin material. You may have been thinking about Bucky tearing the top off of you roughly, or taking off carefully, or leaving it on you as he fucked you.  He would still pay attention to your nipples no matter what. You were horny for your man, and not thinking about tempting anyone else.

So you decided to break the ice and send him a selfie.

When Bucky didn’t respond, you got angry all over again. How dare he just continue to ignore you? You were a queen, and you were going to act like one. You went to the club, got tipsy, and acted as if you were in college again, taking drinks from anyone who offered. And there were lots of offers. You danced with your girls, and later, with the men who bought you drinks.

It was all harmless fun, right?

Through the crowd and the flashing lights, you saw a familiar profile, a head of hair and those unmistakable shoulders. Bucky was there, and his body language indicated that he was aware and interested in what you were doing.

So you gave him a show.

A woman came up to him and he looked down at her, a small smile on his lips. A jolt of jealousy rocked your body when he moved to a quiet corner with her and of all the colors in the club, all you could see was red. When she smiled up at him and her hand reached for his arm, you began grinding on the body behind you.

The man pulled you closer and practically yelled in your ear.

“You come here often?”

You rolled your eyes as his hands squeezed your hips and moved down. 

“Yeah. Let’s just dance.”

You moved his hands away but then they glided over your stomach and skimmed your back, thumbs brushing dangerously near your top. He pulled you even closer and started grinding as you tried to keep his octopus arms off of you. You glanced toward the corner and saw one person talking on the other locked in on you. And then moving in your direction.

You were relieved and terrified, because what had you gotten yourself into?

And what was Bucky going to do now? He looked like an animal, stalking his prey, dangerous.

The stranger moved his hands again and you recoiled, just as Bucky’s hand landed on your bare shoulder.

“That’s enough. Time to go.”

The random guy chucked his chin up at Bucky. 

“Who the fuck are you? Me and my girl are dancing here.”

You heard a record scratch, even though the music was still blaring.

“What did you say?”

Now you were afraid for this man’s life.

“C’mon James, let’s go. He’s drunk off his ass.”

You tried to pull him away, but he was not moved, staring down the man who would go down if Bucky breathed on him the wrong way. After a second, Bucky turned toward you, fury in his eyes.

You breathed a sigh of relief, even though you knew you were in for it. But Drunk Guy just had to open his mouth.

“Fucking whore. Acting like a slut on the dance floor and then leaving with this—”

And it was lights out for Drunk Guy, because Bucky Barnes laid him out flat with one punch.

Sam appeared out of nowhere to control the crowd as Bucky steered you through the crowd. His tense hand on your back sent a flash of dark excitement through you. He guided you by the elbow through the kitchen of the club. He took off his jacket and draped it around your shoulders before taking you out to the cold alley to his waiting car.  He walked you around the passenger side and opened the door, but before you could get in, a tug on your arm sobered you up.

You turned to see so much ice in Bucky’s glare. It was terrifying and thrilling at the same time.

“You are in so much trouble,” Bucky’s lowly growled threat made goosebumps rise on your skin.

 “What do you mean?” 

You shaky voice belied your nerves.

“Get this clear, Frumoasă. You are, in fact, mine. That man’s hands were all over your body. All over what was mine.”

Bucky was leaning down, face close to yours, rage barely contained. You knew he would never truly hurt you, but…

“I had things under control,” you urgently whispered back. You wouldn’t back down from him.

“What about you? Who were you huddled up with in the corner?.” 

Bucky’s eyes glinted.

“Jealous?”

He got even closer. 

“No, you are,”

Bucky’s  jaw tensed, and a vein pulsed in his neck. You hit a nerve. 

“I know that woman from… from before you. She means nothing to me.” 

Bucky brought his hand up to your neck and buried his fingers in the hair at the nape of your head. He tangled your curls and tugged, none too gently, bringing your eyes up to meet his.

“I don’t want her. There is no one but you. “

You were trembling in his grip, panties soaked, mouth open for breath. Seeing Bucky this worked up brought out something in you. Something you didn’t realize was there.

“Take me home, James.”

“Y/N.” 

His voice chilled you. He gave you a cold smile. 

“I said you were in trouble, and I meant it. You’re getting punished.” 

Your jaw dropped, and your face flamed as you started to say something. But a wave of need crashed into your cunt. You were intrigued.

“What are you going to do?” 

Your voice wavered despite your efforts to appear calm. Good lord you wanted this.

“What you deserve,” he said calmly, gesturing for you to get into the car. You resisted.

“Tell me now.”

He indicated the car again and you sat down, trembling as he buckled you in and walked around to the driver's seat. You took a deep breath before he got in himself. 

Bucky leaned toward you menacingly.

“You have driven me to the edge these past few days, Y/N. I love you, I don’t know how else to explain this to you, so I’m going to show you tonight with a consequence for your actions. Either you accept that consequence and come to my place, or I drive you home. And we seriously reconsider what we’re doing here.”

You looked into his icy blues and you knew he was serious. You two had talked about some kinks and limits while starting to experiment with his more dominant side and your submissive side. These versions of you first manifested when you called him ‘Daddy.’ Punishment and reward was a heavy theme in your verbal foreplay. A little humiliation and praise was mixed into your physicality, and it thrilled you. 

Bucky made you feel safe, and tonight you had been unsafe.

“I’ll take my punishment, Daddy.”

Bucky’s eyes stuttered half closed, but he quickly recovered, managing to stay cool toward you as he whispered a gruff, “Good."

He started the car and pulled into the street, headed toward Brooklyn.

"Now sit back and make yourself invisible. I’m trying to calm down and I need to concentrate to not be too rough with you when we get home."

You settled back into your seat, thinking hard about that word, ‘home.’

—--

Bucky virtually ignored you until you got into his bedroom, and you surprised yourself with how much you just wanted him to look at you. You were a whore for his attention. And now you knew that he knew that.

That’s when you realized that your punishment had already begun.

You walked ahead of him on shaky legs on the deep pile carpet of his bedroom, legs shaking and heat emanating from your core. You felt his hand tug you to a stop as he turned you around to face him. 

Bucky took his jacket off of your shoulders as he finally looked at you, admiring the pout on your face. 

“You were a good girl. So silent on the ride over and in the elevator.”

You shuddered as he spoke and as his fingers touched your bare shoulders. 

“You like being a good girl for me, don’t you?”

His palm moved from your shoulder up to your cheek.

“Yet you weren’t a good girl earlier tonight, were you?”

He was so close to you, his lips millimeters from yours.

“James, please –”

The space between your lips was driving you crazy. 

“I think you need to be spanked, Frumoasă.” 

His voice was so calm, in contrast to the whirlwind inside you. You were anxious, but you wanted this in your soul.

“We will talk while I spank you. You have got to understand how much I care for you. How much I love you.”

Anger with a rush of excitement coursed through your body.

 “I— This is— Fuck,” you whispered. 

Bucky pecked your lips, allowing just one bright spot of tenderness before he abruptly sat down on the edge of the bed. 

“Over my lap, Frumoasă.” 

“Christ, James.” 

“Now.” 

His eyes were iceberg blue. There was no trace of soft Bucky.

 “Or I will put you there myself.” 

“Do it,” you whispered, ever defiant.

In an instant, you were thrown over the bed like you weighed nothing, and flipped onto his lap.

“There we go.” 

His satisfied voice made you shiver. A large hand slipped off your heels and peeled your leggings down your legs. You squirmed, knowing that he could see the wet spot on your your panties. 

“Esti atat de frumoasă iubirea mea.” You are so beautiful my love.

He smoothed your panties against your wet crease before he yanked them down in one swift movement, exposing you to the cool air in his bedroom. 

“I’m going to enjoy this. You, not so much,” 

“Get on with it.” 

“Watch your mouth, and stop rolling your eyes.” 

Bucky squeezed your ass cheek as he read you like a book, and you braced for a blow.

“Don’t hurt me,” you pleaded in a whisper, chastened now.

“This isn’t going to be about pain.” 

You rubbed your nipples against the comforter, searching for some relief to the sexual tension coursing through your body.

“Then what?”

You were breathless as he rubbed circles on your ass. A slap landed, quick and stinging, causing you to  jump.

“It’s about you being a spoiled little princess.” 

His voice was rougher. Oh Lord. That nickname was your undoing. It felt so right. 

“I am not!” 

You gasped when he spanked you again, heat radiating from the spot. 

“Brat. Don’t contradict me.”

Fingers slipped into your folds.

“See? A spoiled, wet princess.” 

You bucked, lifting your ass to his touch, not trying to hide your reaction. 

“Mmm, you like being called that, don’t you? Your body can’t hide the truth.” 

“Daddy…” 

You buried your face in the bed as he rubbed your clit. How could he be so calm?

“That’s it, Prinţesă Open up for me.” 

More spanks made you moan wantonly. 

“I’m going to fuck you you here…” 

Two fingers moved deep into your cunt..

 “…And here.”

He lightly stroked the cleft of your ass. 

“Yes, I want you there. Please!”

Bucky’s intake of breath told you that he hadn’t expected your response. 

“Iti place, Prinţesă aia? You like that?” 

“God, it feels so good.” 

Bucky circled your tight hole and worked a finger inside. 

“Fuck, you feel so tight and untouched,” he crooned as you arched into his hands. 

“Almost innocent. But you are anything but, aren’t you? You were acting like a slut earlier. Letting him touch what’s mine.”

“James—”

You were angry and yet so close to cumming at the same time.

Bucky laughed. 

“You wanted attention, now you have it. Do you want me to have Sam bring him here to watch me do this to you? Or should I just call Sam? Or Steve? Or Nat? All three perhaps? You need an audience, Frumoasă?”

You were so wet at what he was saying despite your embarassment.

“Look at you.”

His voice was so condescending. Why did that get you even wetter? 

“You are so worked up over the idea. They’d be eager. They all say how fine you are, and how they would have you right where I do if I hadn’t made the first move.”

You pussy spasmed as he plunged two fingers inside you again while his thumb pressed down on your clit. He pulled away before you could fall over the edge and you grunted in frustration. 

“It’ll never happen though, because you’re mine. My little slut. My cum whore.”

A smack stung your ass. 

“Fuuuckkkk, Jamie….”

You were shuddering, shaking, creaming all over his hand. 

“My pure and total slut. In every way.”

You kicked, your ass fluttering around the two fingers he had inserted. Your pussy was gushing, but you could find no relief. Another hard smack rained down and you cried out. 

“Do you think I could ever look at anyone else while you are in the world, Frumoasă? A thousand women could be in here — naked, begging — and I wouldn’t look their way. Not once."

“James—” 

“Not when you’re here, so pretty on my lap, with your pussy on fire and your body desperate for what I can give you.” 

You whimpered and tried to close your legs for pressure on your clit, but Bucky spread your thighs with his hands and stared down into your shiny, wet cunt.

“And you're not just desperate.” 

Bucky was relentless. 

“You're greedy. They would have to watch while I fucked you, because you can’t wait.”

“Oh, fuck, Jamesssss!”

“That’s why I give you all my time, my attention, all my money, because I will give you anything you ask for. And more, Frumoasă.”

You hid your face, slung over his lap, and his big fingers began stroking in and out of you again.

Lightning bolted through you.

You gasped and clamped down on his hand. You came so hard. And then he was spanking you again. Your ass was numb now. 

Somehow you wound up on the bed, belly-down, knees on the floor with Bucky kneeling behind you. You arched your back, body begging for him. Another slap landed on your heated ass.

“Look at you, putting on a show. Just like earlier in the middle of the dance floor. But all of this is mine. No one else’s.”

Bucky grasped your breasts through your thin top and you whimpered, face down on his bed, presenting for him, spreading your legs, beckoning him to stop the torture and enter you.

“Need your cock, Daddy. Please. I’m sorry!”

A sudden smack on your clit made you cry out. Pleasure bloomed out from your cunt and your thighs were now soaked.

“Yes, you need me. And it’s okay. It’s okay to be taken care of, to lose control. I’ve got you Frumoasa.” 

For once, you had nothing to say, you just gripped the covers as Bucky lifted your hands and moved them behind your back, holding them together.

“I wish you could see your ass right now, Baby.” 

His voice was husky with lust. 

“It’s so red and so warm. So fucking beautiful. But you deserve my cock, too, don’t you?” 

He sank into you without warning, your wetness enabling him to sink in with one thrust. You were helpless; you just had to take it. You moaned as his thumb entered your ass as he squeezed your hip. And you felt so full, fucked sensless by his relentless nature.

“So fucking wet,” he growled. “And you want me to fuck your ass.” 

“Please, Daddy…”

You were sobbing now, wanting everything he was giving you, everything he was saying, and more.  

“Please cum inside me.”

“Good girl,” he whispered. “Love it when you beg. You should see the creamy goodness you are leaving around my cock..”

Bucky threw his head back and moaned, shutting his eyes tight from the erotic sight. His thrusts became erratic as his cum hit your wet, hot walls. Your mouth opened in a wide O and a silent scream as you came around him.

He growled as he finished, his hand rubbing your back as he softened inside you. You slumped against the bed as he rained kisses down your spine.

“Are you okay, Prinţesă?”

You smiled.

“More than okay.”

Bucky smiled and kissed your forehead before retreating to the bathroom. He came back, cleaned you up, and helped you to fully undress as you climbed into his bed.

He went to the kitchen to get a glass of water for you and made you drink, before he took off his clothes and climbed into bed with you and took you into his arms.

“Do you still love me, Y/N?”

Confident, dominant Bucky Barnes was gone. You looked up into his uncertain blue eyes.

“Of course I do. I wouldn’t have come with you if I didn’t. I love you, James Barnes. I’m still yours. It’s just— I’ve been taking care of myself for so long that I don’t know how–”

Bucky put his finger over your lips.

“That’s all I wanted to hear right now. Let’s get some rest. We will talk in the morning. I’m not letting you go without a fight. I love you, so much, Frumoasă.”

You kissed him and relaxed into his arms.

“You own me, Frumoasă, body and soul.”

—-

Let me know if you like this one! ��

[shadowystan]

YANDERE! sugar daddy x f!reader — his lover ♡ (or lack thereof)

YANDERE! sugar daddy who's pathetic and naive enough to not realise just how manipulative his perfect, little darling is.

YANDERE! sugar daddy who's pretty much on his knees when you start crying those crocodile tears. Don't you worry, love, he's right here! You're failing that one class? He could always bribe the professor! Or simply threaten him. It's your choice, really.

Pretty girl, you're the boss here.

YANDERE! sugar daddy who lets you choose which car you want to ride in each day, every day.

YANDERE! sugar daddy who lets you sit on his lap as you pepper his face with kisses hopefully asking for a new pet.

(You hate having only him as a companion.)

YANDERE! sugar daddy, who's not only weak to your tears but your smile too. Curl your lips just right while wearing that shiny pink lip gloss and he's buying you a new Birkin without you asking.

And the day you actually do ask for something.. 

YANDERE! sugar daddy, who has the dopiest, most lovesick smile on his face when you drag him by the hand in the mall and make quick little turns here and there because you're just so excited. Aren't you just adorable?

YANDERE! sugar daddy who practically has hearts in his eyes as you try another dress. He's cooing; cheering you on with small compliments like, "beautiful!", "gorgeous!".

Act all shy. Like you actually care about draining his money after you've shopped for an hour or two.

He'd be charmed! He likes it when you're assertive with your wishes, he does. But what man doesn't just love a sweet, kind girl who worries about his pocket? 

I mean you don't. But you can surely act like it, right?

Because after mumbling words of assurances like, "Don't you worry about the money, pretty." YANDERE! sugar daddy would be guiding you towards another posh clothing brand. And then another. And another-

YANDERE! sugar daddy who'd be damned to let you carry a single shopping bag. He's strong and still young. (Or is he?)

YANDERE! sugar daddy who has you move to his penthouse. You don't mind. Maids and the occasional Michelin Star chefs litter his house. You don't have to move a finger. Just sit pretty in your cute little sundress and wait for him to come home. All you have to do is flip through magazines! Dream life, right?

YANDERE! sugar daddy who somewhere along the way, forcefully blurs the line between a sponsor and a lover and becomes your boyfriend.

Or. Well. YANDERE! boyfriend.

YANDERE! boyfriend who shushes your cries with featherlight kisses. You don't want to date him. Why doesn't he understand?

YANDERE! boyfriend who tries bribing you with jewellery, clothes and what not. Your perfect girl persona slips but he doesn't seem to notice-

YANDERE! boyfriend who simply frowns when you call him delusional and try to leave the house. YANDERE! boyfriend who gently pushes your suitcases away and pats your head when you try to step away from his large form. YANDERE! boyfriend who smiles softly and speaks as if he's talking to a child when you throw another temper tantrum. He's blocking the door-

YANDERE! boyfriend who simply tilts his head when you turn into a complete bitch. The facade breaks and you can't be bothered enough to glue it right back.

YANDERE! boyfriend who considers baby trapping you when you outright refuse to plan the wedding.

(He's not good with decorations. He needs you for that.)

[2-dsimp]

Who would baby trap mc? Asking for science.

🤓

『Featuring Babytrapping with the Hitman Team』

——;——;————;———-

Cw: 🔞NSFW MDNI! Fem reader! Baby trapping,

——;——;————;———-

Would Babytrap you intentionally

——;——;————;———-

Bjorn the Strategist: As the strategist of the team it’d only be fitting for him to intentionally plan. On knocking you up to make sure you’ll forever be inclined to stay with him. But only after doing some intensive research about child rearing and pregnancy. So he’s able to provide you with everything you may need and ensure that both you and his child are safe and sound.

Yujin the hacker: he’d be upfront with you on his plans of knocking you up. With a childish grin on his face, the hacker will straight up tell you that he’s going to get you pregnant. So that he can finally get a tasteful of your breast milk. His openness would dupe you into thinking he was joking since Yujin’s always been a prankster at times. So really you can’t blame him if he did exceed in doing exactly as he told. since he made sure to give you a prior notice ahead of time.

——;——;————;———-

Would Babytrap you unintentionally

——;——;————;———-

Ossian the sniper: don’t get me wrong he loves you dearly. So much in fact that in his sleep. He’ll go as far as to make sure you feel how deep his love for you goes until you’re filled up like a cream puff. The funny part is that when you’re holding up a positive pregnancy test in Ossian’s face he’d think he was dreaming. And would promptly wish aloud that he’d never wake up. Since the dream of having a family with you would make him feel as if he’s floating on cloud nine.

Vincent the Enforcer: would be so wrapped up in how good you felt going in raw. That he’d completely forget to pull out, and would mutter apologies underneath his breath. Whilst continuing to bust his thick spurts of jizz inside your squelching cunt. Saying how he can’t help himself and promising with butterfly kisses. Against your neck that he’d be a good daddy and take care of both you and the baby.

Danny the boss: this otaku cannot cope with how turned on you make him feel on a daily basis. He’d be so desperate to have more of you, to get balls deep inside. That place he calls heaven in between those thighs of yours. To the point of where his fat tip would break through the condom and make him nut prematurely inside you. From instantly being exposed to your depths. After Seeing the positive pregnancy test, Danny would faint like a damsel in distress. Due to an extensive nosebleed at the mere vision he had of you having baby bump. His baby bump

——;——;————;———-

Wouldn’t try to Baby trap you.

——;——;————;———-

Moros the Torturer: would never try to baby trap his sunshine. He’d want to make sure of having kids is what you’d so desire. So if you want kids you’ll have to reassure Moros constantly that you’d want to have a family with him. Since he’d hate to do anything that would cause you any kind of harm or discomfort. He knows that pregnancy can affect you long term and is well versed in the risks. So he’d never put your wellbeing in jeopardy despite how he truly yearns for a big family.

Koji the medic: is meticulous when it comes to sex, he’ll make sure that no happy accidents. will happen under his watch since he doesn’t particularly like to idea of having kids. Nor does he plan to entertain the idea of losing his dearest nurse to birthing a parasite. If push comes to shove he’ll definitely choose to toss the whole kid away than to ever risk lose his darling.

[ozzgin]

hi! I'm the anon who said that Daitou is my #1 sweetheart, and I saw your post talking about time-skip Daitou kind in dilf vibes... I'm interested, take all of my money right now !!

also wondering how Daitou would react with a darling who wants kids 💭💭 imagine of she is having a hugeee baby fever ( not me projecting whattt)

Turning this into a general "Would the yakuza men want children?" and other bedroom habits. There's a more detailed answer for Daitou here. Content: female reader (pregnancy talk), mildly NSFW, fluff

You may think of Boss as old-fashioned, but he's seen a fair amount of depravity back in the day. Before gambling was deemed illegal in Japan, he'd owned several casinos in big districts like Ginza and Kabukichō, and consequently spent a lot of time in various parlors. Unlike many of his men, however, he never really cared much for adult entertainment. In his drunken rants he used to say that women would be his downfall, and no one would want to be involved with him, anyways.

He might be into you calling him daddy, although you should expect a lot of dad jokes to go with it. He’s a silly old man like that. Could be interested in shibari, because it takes a lot of patience and skill and he’d probably enjoy taking his time and gazing at you after each knot. It’s quiet and intimate, and he gets to tease you about it afterwards, especially if it’s an arrangement to go under your clothes. “What’s the matter, (Y/N) love? Tongue tied?”

His recurring humor around his age makes you wonder if he’d even be interested in children. When you finally bring up the topic, Boss is very casual about it. “Sure”, he’ll say with a grin, “whatever the missus wants.” You suspect he’s not taking you seriously, but after settling you on his lap and having a hearty laugh about it, he’ll conclude, this time with confidence: “Have a look outside this room. See all those rascals? I raised them! Ya think I can’t handle a bunch of kids?”

Daitou can be surprisingly (and unintentionally) kinky, especially if you encourage him to. He’ll apologize the day after for being too rough, even if you tell him it's fine and you quite literally asked for it (See Valentine's Day incident). Overall, though, I’d say it depends entirely on you. He can be dominant or submissive, according to your wishes. You can go all out with him, he’s sturdier than most and takes great pride in it. If you’re into more extreme hobbies like knife play, you’re certainly in good hands.

Daitou lives in the moment and hasn't really planned too far ahead. Such is the life of a yakuza: you never know when you might lose a limb or more in the next gang fight. He's therefore quite surprised by your proposal of having children in the future. Is it even something realistic for someone like him? On the other hand, it's hard to refuse that enthusiastic smile you're flashing at him each time the topic comes up. "Do you, uh...", he begins one day while looking at baby toys in the store. He fidgets with his prosthetic eye nervously. "Do you really think I'd make a good dad? Heh."

Kazuya can be quite kinky and loves teasing you in public about it. Last time you were hanging out with him and his underlings, you happened to pass by a park bench you'd recently used during your nightly strolls together. “This location is familiar”, he’ll hum with a smirk. “Isn’t this where we…ah. Nevermind.” Despite your frequent protests, he always struggles to keep his mouth shut. Can you really blame him for wanting to brag to others? You're an undeniable catch.

"Kids?" he repeats with a raised eyebrow. Good question, although something he's considered many times already. What, you thought he wouldn't notice your curious glances whenever some woman walks by with a baby stroller? He pretends to ponder your suggestion and declares after a long moment: "Well, you'd certainly make a great milf, and I obviously can't have anyone else do the honors." He picks you up with a mischievous grin on his face. "When do we start?"

[Main Story] | [More Yakuza]

[lalunanymph]

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋'𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒 — nanami kento

feeling overwhelmed and drained by the demands of life, nanami kento finally succumbs to the pressure—seeking solace and a late-night connection through a sex hotline. however, what unfolds next is more than what he bargained for.

tw. daddy kink, voice s[e]x, voice kink, degrading language, reader is a sex worker at a hotline, nanami is a salaryman, no curses AU

masterlist

CHAPTER 1

“Oh, fuck, yes, yes. Right there, Daddy – oh y-yes, right there.”

“You like this, you little whore?”

You whimpered, bending down a little to inspect the nail polish drying on your toes. Stifling a yawn, you murmured into the receiver, “Yes, Daddy. Love it so much. M’your little whore.”

The man’s voice was wheezy, sounding a little too old for your liking. He probably smoked ten packets of cigs a day judging from the rasp at the end of his sentences. He cursed too much as well, and though you made it a habit to try not to picture your clients, it was hard not to when you were this bored out of your mind.

He was most likely an aging, balding man in his 40s, who was bored with the sex his steadfast but oblivious wife was giving him. Maybe she knew of his auditory… deviances, and didn’t comment on it. Some of the women were like that; as long as there was no physical connection involved, they would let these slimy excuses of fathers and husbands off the hook.

“You cumming?”

You nod before forgetting that he couldn’t see and exhaled out an exaggerated moan.

“Ohh yess,” you threw in a whimper to excite him. “Fuck, Daddy, I-I’m–”

Your perfectly practiced high-pitched moans were eliciting hoarse groans from him. You could hear the tell-tale signs of his slick wrist pumping his length and you glanced at the clock.

Maybe you still had time to order takeout before the restaurants closed. Hurrying him up, you gave little breathy whispers of, “Yes, yes, right there, oh right there. Please, please, please—” you choked out a moan and heard him spew a stream of curses.

A loud exhale signalled that he had climaxed and you breathed in a sigh of relief.

The man on the other end gave a sated chuckle. “Shit, sweetheart. You’re good. I’ll tip you.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” you purred, waiting for the beep on your phone that told you the transaction was complete. “Same time next week?”

His low chuckle made you wrinkle your nose. “Careful, babydoll. I think you might start to like me.”

“Of course,” you said in a sickly sweet voice. “You’re one of Angel Lips’s favourite.”

He exhaled and muttered, “Same time next week, Cherry,” and set the phone down.

You breathed out and threw your phone down onto your paisley sheets, your shift officially over.

A ping on your phone made you glance over at the screen. It was your boss, Liza, who texted the schedule for tomorrow’s shifts into the group chat. The other girl’s acknowledged her, but you couldn’t be half-assed. You were good at what you did, but you didn’t play pretend to suck up to her ass.

Liza mentioned you in the group and asked if you could take over another girl’s shift and you blatantly left her on read.

You turned your phone over and sat up, stretching. The oversized t-shirt that you wore rode up your thighs and you scratched your stomach.

A knock on your door made you jump and you hurried, opening it to find your roommate, Rachel, on the other end. Her peroxide blonde hair was in a high ponytail and she wore a smirk.

“Playtime’s over?”

“Fuck, yes,” you said and pushed past her. “I’m fucking starving.”

She trailed after you, snorting. “Good. I bought you some ramen, you skank.”

You threw her a mock glare that melted into a fake pout. “Aw. You do care. Even if you did call me a skank.”

Rachel rolled her eyes, flopping down onto your threadbare couch. “As long as you pay your half of the rent, I don’t care what you do, Y/N.”

You sniffed and poured the soup and noodles out into a bowl. Sitting down next to her, you flicked her legs on your side of the couch, ignoring her huff of annoyance.

“Did you hear that asshole is going to increase rent again?”

You swallow the noodles hard. “Seriously? Someone should sue him.”

Rachel gave another one of her unladylike snorts. “With what money?”

You tried not to grimace, mentally making a note to text Liza back and begrudgingly accept the extra shift.

“I’m telling you, Nanami,” Gojo crowed, thumping his colleague’s back. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Nanami closed his eyes, hoping that if he did, the silver-haired nuisance in front of him would dissipate into thin air. As it was, Gojo Satoru was never one for tack and pushed a card into his stiff fingers.

Despite his hesitance, the blonde flipped the card over and written in bold letters were the words: ‘Angel Lips – where we whisper your pleasure’ scrawled in a neon pink font with a lace overlay. In the corner was a phone number he could reach. He set the card down as if it was an unholy object and levelled his colleague with a glare.

“Real mature, Gojo,” he scoffed, losing appetite for the sandwich in front of him.

Not one for backing down from a challenge, Gojo tried to change his mind. “Oi, Nanami. C’mon. You’re so stressed you look older than me, for goodness sake! Don’t you want to loosen up a bit–”

“With a sex hotline?” he deadpanned.

“Eh, don’t knock it till you try it.”

Nanami scoffed and slung his suit jacket over his broad shoulder. “Is this how you spend your time? Throwing money at women who are paid to whisper nasty stuff to you?”

Undeterred, Gojo pushed the sleeves of his work shirt over his biceps, throwing his colleague a smirk. His cerulean blue eyes peered over a pair of dark sunglasses and Nanami wondered just how someone like him could be accepted into the world of stocks and bonds. Satoru would scare half of his clientele away if he wasn’t infuriatingly good at predicting market trends.

“Like I said,” Gojo repeated, winking. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”

He sauntered away, hand raised in a half-salute. Nanami resisted the urge to roll his eyes, his attention drawn to the salacious card on the cafeteria table. He was in a dilemma. If he left the card there, people would know it was from their table. The company was small and everyone had a designated table that was intrinsically theirs and this tiny one in the corner was his and Gojo’s.

Despite Satoru’s infuriating countenance, Nanami sort of liked hanging out with him for lunch, though he would rather watch paint dry and take notes on it rather than admit it to his friend.

He swiftly picked the card and pocketed it, intending to throw it into the trash once he reached the safety of his apartment.

Nanami walked back to his office, his department building located away from Satoru’s one.

Part of him wondered why someone as young and good-looking as Gojo Satoru needed to call a sex hotline to get some action. All he had to do was peer over those sunglasses and he would have any girl in his bed for the night.

“Tch. Asshole.” Nanami was affronted. 

The fact that his friend had recommended him a sex hotline to relieve his stress was beyond insulting. He always thought it was rather pathetic how men would spend thousands on a woman who would pocket it and then never see him again. It was too transactional for him; too cold.

The card burned like a teasing siren’s call in his breast pocket and he ignored the urge to tear it in half and toss it to the ground like a madman.

It was a good thing that today was Friday and he would have two days on his own. The market was in a cyclical downturn and many investors were bearish on their stocks. Nanami had spent the whole week putting out fires that were started by his incompetent subordinate. He deserved a drink and a long bath when he returned home.

The day flashed past and soon, evening drenched his office windows. Nanami stood up, stretching lightly and bundled his suit jacket in his arms.

A nervous laugh reached his ears. “N-Nanami-san. You’re heading back?” It was his subordinate, Kei, a fresh graduate who had just come in two weeks ago after a gap year in South Mexico.

He gave his colleague a mild look and nodded.

Despite the clear signs that Nanami had no interest in a conversation, Kei pushed on.

“Got a date for tonight?”

He raised a fair brow.

Why was everyone suddenly interested in his love life today?

He left the question unanswered as he packed his briefcase. “Have a good weekend, Kei.”

His subordinate shot up and bowed to him, wishing him a safe and pleasant trip back home. He tutted at the show of grand respect, muttering at him to sit back down as he took his leave.

Traffic was horrendous and there were drunk people already loitering in the streets. Nanami pulled up to his parking spot, taking a moment to let the silence of his car set in before slowly trudging back to his apartment.

The moment the heavy doors closed behind him, Nanami sagged against the wall, closing his eyes. His briefcase dropped down to the ground with a dull thud and he inhaled deeply, the exhaustion from the week catching up to him.

Still with his eyes closed, he tugged at the knot on his tie, loosening it and unbuttoning the top of his shirt. The fatigue hit him like a ton of bricks and he exhaled, begrudgingly glad that the weekend was here.

Fresh from the shower, Nanami wrapped a towel around his waist, the beads of water glistening down his back and abdomen. He picked his work shirt from the floor, turning it around and shaking it before tossing it into the hamper. He took a step forward, wincing when he felt the sharp edge of something stabbing into his foot.

Bending down, he realised what it was and scoffed. The bawdy card was between his fingers and he contemplated throwing it into the trash can by his bed, but a gut feeling stopped him. He set it down on his side table instead. Slipping into a cotton shirt and sweatpants, he sat down at the edge of his bed, wondering how best to fill this pocket of spare time.

He supposed he could read.

The pile of books that he had neglected sat on the foot of his bed and he reached for one, balancing it in his hand. Cracking open the book, he tried to read, but it was futile. The card was like a beam, drawing his attention and Namami growled, picking up the inoffensive slip of paper, about to tear it when he stopped.

The numbers teased and taunted him. When was the last time he had a conversation with a woman?

The dating game vexed him. He had gone out on a few excursions, mostly on Gojo’s encouragement, but he never seemed to find someone to click with. The women Satoru threw in his way were either too uptight or became clingy after two dates, thinking he belonged exclusively to them and demanding his full time and attention.  

Nanami supposed that he had enough self-awareness to know that he was emotionally unavailable. So, what was the harm in indulging in this frivolous impulse?

Twirling the square between his fingers, he set it down, sighing in surrender as he grabbed his phone.

Keying in the number from the card, he pressed the intimidating ‘call’ button and waited… and waited. The dial tone kept on ringing and he contemplated ending the call when it clicked and a woman’s smooth voice greeted him on the other end.

“Good evening and welcome to the Angel Lips hotline. This is Leela speaking. How may I help you?”

Nanami cleared his throat. “Uh, hello. I… I was given this card by a friend and…” he trailed off, not sure what to say. The tips of his ear felt hot.

The woman chuckled, reassuring him that this was normal and he didn’t need to be embarrassed because they were professionals and would promise discretion. “All you have to do is choose which girl you want to speak to and we’ll link you to her.”

Nanami nodded. “So—uh—which girls are available for tonight?”

“There’s Silky. She specialises in femdom. Do you know what that is, sir?”

He did know exactly what it was and winced. “Um, no, thank you. If I wanted to be degraded I would speak to my boss.”

Her tinkling laughter was comforting. She moved on to the next option. “There’s Marie. She’s more of a vanilla one. And then we have Cherry—she’s one of the best in our repertoire.”

“What is she good at?”

“Well, sir, she loves powerful men and has a huge Daddy kink.”

Nanami paused for a split second, intrigued.

“Hmm. I think… I guess Cherry sounds interesting.”

“Sure,” the smooth voice said. “I��ll link you to her. Give me a second.”

Nanami leaned back against his headboard.

There was a disengaged click and then, a different voice answered.

“Hello?”

This voice was different from the cordial one that had greeted him earlier. It was honeyed but not cloyingly sweet, with just enough of a demure purr underneath to hint at the speaker’s sensuality.

“Hey. Uh… hi.”

The voice giggled and she exhaled sweetly. “First time?”

Nanami cleared his throat. Get it together, Kento. 

“Yeah. You can tell?”

“I can always tell,” she purred.

Nanami set his book down and drew his knees to his broad chest. “Oh yeah? How?”

Her exhaled laughter didn’t need to sound that seductive. Unbidden, a flicker of heat rushed down his spine.

“Because,” she whispered, “I love teasing the new ones. You all are so fun to figure out.”

You glanced at your phone in annoyance as a message reached you.

‘#409’ was all that was written in the text from an unknown number. The code was familiar to you; it meant that a customer was on the other end. Dialling into a clandestine hotline, you waited for the call to click and when it did, you put on your most saccharine tone.

“Hello?”

“Hey. Uh… hi.”

A gruff but deep voice filtered through the receiver and you felt goosebumps rise on your skin.

Resisting the urge to clear your throat to find your balance, you sweetened your voice.

“First time?”

It was he who cleared his throat and he uttered, “Yeah. You can tell?”

You were back on track. “I can always tell,” you teased him.

He exhaled and chuckled. “So… how do we start?”

“Eager, huh?” You didn’t know why it was so easy to poke fun at him, but it seemed like he didn’t mind one bit.

“Maybe.”

You sank back onto your bed. “Do you want to know what I’m wearing?”

There was silence at the other end before he muttered, “Sure. I guess.”

“I’m wearing nothing, actually,” you said, fingering the hem of your oversized shirt.

“Huh. Aren’t you cold?”

You furrowed your brow. Was this man serious?

Scoffing, you purred, “What are you, like my dad or something?” Knowing you had a good opening, you speared him with the follow-up: “Or do you wanna be my Daddy?”

Silence echoed from the other end. You had to check your receiver to see if the call was still operating.

There was a shaky breath and you heard him whisper, “I wanna be your Daddy.”

Fuck, yes. Finally, you were getting somewhere with him.

“Mhm,” you whined, laying down on the mattress. “Tell me what you want, Daddy.”

“I want you… to have a good time, princess.”

Licking your lips, you whispered, “How, Daddy?”

“Start by telling me the truth, princess. What are you really wearing?”

Your confusion echoed through the lack of words. He chuckled deeply.

“I heard material rustling when you laid down on your bed. There was the creak of a spring.”

You held your breath.

“So, tell me, Princess. What exactly are you wearing? Spare me no detail.”

You felt like you were threading through dangerous waters now, but didn’t pull back when the currents started to beckon. “A-an oversized t-shirt, Daddy.”

“Anything underneath?”

Not bad. He sounded like such a tease. 

“Cotton panties.”

You heard him exhale shakily. “What colour?”

“White.”

You’ve never heard him moan before, but it was beautiful.

Everything about his voice was downright salacious.

His voice was like the richest bourbon of an Old Fashioned Chocolate cocktail that you had treated yourself to one hazy night in Roppongi with Rachel and her friends. It sank deep into your chest and spread warmth down your body, right to your aching pussy.

As cliche as it was, he was different from the others.

He didn’t come off too lewdly or immediately started jackhammering his cock, urging you to whisper filthy accompaniments as he reached his high.

This man knew what he was doing.

He was good at this.

“Take off your panties.”

Heart in your throat, you did as he said, sliding your cotton panties off and throwing them to the floor.

“Did you do it?”

Your breathy whisper sounded needy even to your own ears. “Y-yes.”

“Good girl.”

At those words, your core ached almost pathetically and you whimpered.

“Daddy,” you moaned, “Wanna touch right where it hurts.”

“It hurts?” He grunted and you could hear the rustle of material at his end of the call. You closed your eyes, picturing him removing his hardened cock from the confines of his designer slacks.

He sounded powerful; someone like a CEO or a businessman. Someone who probably wore sharp suits and expensive cologne. Someone who strictly drank whiskey and had good tastes and a pretty apartment that was stylishly decorated with the latest designs.

It downright thrilled you to have an image of him like this—a powerful man trying to reduce you to your knees. 

His next words left you breathing harder, ready to combust. “Then, touch yourself, princess.”

Two fingers met your aching clit, teasing the wetness and spreading it around your folds. You were already soaked for him. Sliding one finger into your quivering pussy, you envisioned that it would be his fingers that were doing this.

He would have nice fingers, too. Trimmed and filed with soft hands.

Years of being in this business made you somewhat of an expert at uncovering how a person looked and acted based on their voice alone.

“I can hear how wet you are.”

You set your phone down, putting him on speaker. Rachel was out with her boyfriend and staying over at his place for the whole weekend. There was no one at home in the apartment tonight and you could be as loud as you want.

“I am,” you whispered. “I’m so wet, right now.”

“All for me?”

The edge of desperation in his voice made your back arch and your toes curl.

“Just for you.”

Jesus, fuck. Focus, Y/N. 

You were the one who was supposed to be pleasuring him, not the other way around.

Another voice, one that was more rebellious told you to screw it and embrace spontaneity. When was the last time a man had truly gotten you off?

That’s right. Never. Except for… No, you didn’t want to think of him. Not right now when you were being edged to the strongest orgasm of your life.

You curled your fingers deep in your pussy, hitting a spot that made you squirm. 

“Daddy,” you whined. “Talk to me. What’re you doing now?”

His breathy grunts made your insides clench in anticipation. “I’m stroking my cock, princess. I’m so hard for you right now. You’re such a dirty little girl, you know that?” Another grunt. “G-getting me all hard. Fuck, I wish you were here to suck me off. I would push my cock down your slutty little throat. You like that, yeah?”

“Mhm. I love sucking cock, Daddy.”

“I’m sure you do, Princess,” he moaned.

He sounded like an angel and it made your heart and pussy flutter.

You were rubbing your clit like a madwoman, two fingers pushing in and out of your wet heat, panting and moaning Daddy over and over again.

“I have so much precum ‘cause of you. It’s almost slipping down my wrist—hah. Fuck, Cherry. Fuck. I’m close. Tell me—ngh—what positions you like, Princess.”

Your hips stuttered and your mind was flooded with images of you bent over for him, his cock curved deep in your pussy, ramming you hard into the mattress, suffocating you with his body weight as he pinched your needy, overstimulated clit.

“I-I like it from the back, Daddy.”

He grunted and you heard his breathing hitch.

“F-fuck. I like hitting it from the back, too.”

“Would you want to fuck me like that?” you breathed. You knew your phone speaker would pick up on the longing that you were putting down just for him. “Make me your needy little s-slut?”

His breathing stuttered. “Y-yes. I want to. Shit, I really want to.”

Your hips were canting and ticking nervously to the tune of his moans and you knew you were close.

“Cum for me, Cherry. Let me hear you, princess. I’m here with you.”

His words broke something deep in you and you surged forward, a cry of pure pleasure on your lips as you furiously fucked your fingers deep inside of you, reaching that mind-numbing high.

Tears blurred your vision and you were trembling from head to toe. Your sleep shirt had ridden above your breasts, your nipples hard and aching to be touched, sucked or teased. 

You rubbed your thumbs gently over the turgid buds as you heard him reach his high, your thighs squeezing to push out a smaller orgasm from your sated body.

The both of you were panting hard and you were actually taken aback that this was the first time any customer had ever made you reach this breaking point. He heard your soft huff of laughter and you swore you felt him smile when he asked, “Was it good?”

You chuckled shakily. “Y-yeah. Damn. I think I have to pay you for your time, sir.” In a softer voice, you admitted, “I-I’ve never come for someone before. Like this, I mean.”

His smooth laugh was like music to your ears. “I’m glad I could help.”

“Sir… may I know your name? I mean, not your name name, but your alias.” You rolled over to your belly, pressing your thighs together. “I want to know what name I should scream out in case you decide to bless me with your beautiful voice again.”

There was a short silence before he muttered, “You can call me Ken.”

“Ken?”

He grunted in acknowledgment and that small sound made you smile. It seemed like he was one of those taciturn men who were lacking in genial spirits. Other women would be put off by someone as aloof as that but you were charmed.

You liked serious, no-nonsense men who could fuck you straight. He seemed like someone who would fit the bill.

“I’ll transfer you the money,” he said and your brows knitted in amusement.

He truly was a straight-laced man of his word—you were in for a treat tonight. 

Your phone pinged with the sound of a money transfer and you fought back a slow grin at the imagined numbers in your bank account. He must’ve given you a hefty tip, you were sure of that. Ken seemed like the type of guy to pay well for a service.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you purred, laying down on your back and staring up at the ceiling.

There was a slight catch in his voice when he asked, “C-can I… book you?”

“Book me?”

“For tomorrow night.”

When you took some time to answer, you heard him start to explain himself.

“I-I’ll be having drinks with someone tomorrow night. A friend. A-and he’s a handful. I need to take the edge off.”

You flattened your lips together to keep from smiling too wide. “Of course. Just leave a note with Leela and she’ll arrange the schedule for you.”

He thanked you and politely wished you goodnight.

You wished him the same and told him to have good dreams before you ended the call.

You scrolled through your bank transfers only to find a five-digit amount and your jaw fell to the floor. Picking it back up, you scrambled to see if your hunch was proven right and you were quickly stunned into an awed silence.

Glad I could help - K.

a/n: mhm nanami's voice can bend me over and fuck me till i give him 6 babies—wh-what who said that ??

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

[sweetimpurity]

༚༅༚˳✿˳༚༅༚ day 30!! ahhhh what the heck I can't believe it's been a month already ahhhhhhhh wc: 2.4k cw: use of Daddy, if that's not your thing, keep scrolling and love ya!!

“Baby, would you bring me a light?” His deep voice calls out from his office, making you turn your head. He’s your boss. Savvy businessman with more money than anyone would ever need. Friends with almost as much money as he’s got. But you’ve spent more than a few nights wound up in his bed. Smelling his cologne on your skin, in your hair. It would be complicated if he wasn’t solely set on having you. But he’s a man who knows what he wants. And that’s you.  

 You get up from your desk outside his office door, grabbing the lighter you keep there for him. Walking into his office and hearing the wealthy laughter of his business partners discussing something at his desk with smiles and scotch on rocks, cigars in hand. The room full of the smell. Only Miguel’s cigars smell somewhat decent. Smelling floral and fruity. The other men, it just smells like gasoline, choking you. 

“Here you go, sir…” You smile with a nod, being polite in front of his guests. Holding out the lighter to give it to him. He laughs along with whatever his associate is saying, placing the cigar between his lips before looking up at you. His brown eyes, reddish in the light. Leaning forward for you to light it. Once it lights up, the embers glow, he leans back in his seat, his eyes roaming you like he’s appraising you. 

“Hey pretty thing… Can I get a light too?” His business partner asks, leaning forward with his pipe in hand. You go to reach the lighter forward but Miguel tosses a small box of matches across the desk to him. Giving the man a subtle glare. But it sends the message. He had matches all along? 

Once the man leans back in his seat, taking the box of matches in defeat, Miguel looks back up at you. Admiring you, unashamedly so. 

“Would you get me some more wine please baby?” He asks softly, pushing his almost empty wine glass across the desk. You can tell he’s feeling the effects. The way he’s looking at you. The deepness of his voice. After being his personal assistant for this long, you know. Nodding softly, picking up the glass but there’s still a bit inside. His hand comes around yours, his long fingers wrapping around your hand on the glass as he tilts it back to dribble into his mouth, his lips getting a bit of a reddish tint from the strong wine. “Thank you…” He sighs, letting go, catching the flush on your cheeks matching his own from the alcohol. when he looks back up at you. Smiling to himself as you walk away to pour him more wine. 

The men’s eyes follow you as you walk away. Smirking to themselves and watching the way your hips sway. “I gotta get an assistant like her.” One of the men comments. Making Miguel look their way. “My wife would kill me…” The man chuckles. “Who could keep their hands off a hot piece like that?” 

Miguel suddenly frowns. Seeing the way they both look at you. Not liking it in the slightest. A frown overtaking his features. “I think we’re done for today.” He says suddenly. Giving them both a hard look. Staying in his seat but expecting that they get up. And leave. 

“Right, yes… we’ll talk another time.” They mumble goodbyes, getting up once they get the hint. Smiling awkwardly at you as they walk out of the office. Just as you’re bringing the glass of wine back over to the desk. “Meeting over?” 

“It is, indeed, baby…” He nods, watching you put the wine down, standing on the other side of his desk. He puts out the cigar, saving it for another time, slumped casually against the cushions. In his black fitted suit, stretched in places where his broadness and musculature threatens the thread. “Taste some… it’s very expensive.” He smiles. 

You look down at the dark wine in the glass. “I’m still on the clock, Mr. O’hara…” You sigh with a knowing smile. He chuckles, looking up at you before standing up from his seat, towering over you, picking up the glass gingerly. “Always so formal… you know better…” He sighs, slowly walking around his desk to be on your side. 

“Do I not make you feel… comfortable by now?” He asks, standing behind you. His tall hulking form. His voice by your ear, the heat of his breath on your skin. “Or… do I… make you feel something else… entirely… hopefully…” He whispers, his face dipping into the side of your neck. Arms coming around you from behind. His free hand pressing and sliding down your tummy, smoothing over the fabric of your office attire. Getting lower.

“Drink some, babygirl…” He hums, lifting the wineglass in front of you with the other hand, closer and closer to your lips. The same glass that his lips were just on. Smelling the strong alcohol as it comes closer, along with the fruity smell. Until it meets your lips and he watches carefully as he tips the glass back, gently letting some dribble and pour into your mouth, past your lips. Making sure not to drown you in it. Letting you have a taste before pulling it back. 

You swallow with a small breath. He drinks the strongest wine ever made it seems. The burn down the back of your throat. 

“You’re a very good girl…” He says. Quite unprompted. His sharp white canines glinting in the light as he smiles at you. All you did was drink the wine. Turning your head slightly to catch his eye. “So obedient… so loyal… so so pretty…” He whispers, the tip of his nose grazing against your cheek and his lips ghosting over your skin. In a feather light touch. 

“Thank you…” You whisper. Feeling positively breathless under his touch, in his arms. His hand on your tummy pressing in, his fingers to your womb. “You can do better than that, baby…” He whispers, kissing the corner of your lips. And the answer comes to you quickly. You know exactly what he wants to hear. “Thank you, Daddy…” 

His beefy arms tighten around you at the name. His face pushing into the crook of your neck and biting down, little bites here and there, and wet hot kisses too, making you gasp. Before he pulls away, lifting his head and chugging the rest of the wine. Gulping it down with a satisfied huff, lips red and plump and wet with wine, placing the glass down haphazardly before grabbing your chin to turn your face to him, kissing you hard and deep. His tongue instantly invading your mouth, the taste of wine mixing with the cigar he had. Mixed with the natural taste of him. “Say that again.” He huffs once he finally separates himself from you. 

“Daddy-” You can’t help but whine, coming out at half a gasp, his lips smacking back onto yours instantaneously. His brow furrowing, a primal sort of fire lighting inside. The need to take you. To push you down and take you right now is too much to ignore. He holds your face again, glaring down at you as he pulls away again. “Strip down, baby…”

He steps back, turning around like he’s looking for something. But you don’t need to be told twice. Quickly unbuttoning your blouse, working it off. And then wiggling your way out of your skirt, then your nylons. Kicking your heels off. And he’s looking for something in the cabinet of his office. 

This isn’t the first time this has happened obviously. But it feels like the first time everytime. Every time your wealthy boss, who's nearly 15 years older than you, tells you to get naked, you do it. 

“I have something for you…” He says, finding something in his cabinet and bringing it over. A small blue velvet box. You stand there in your bra and panties, wondering what it is. And he comes back over, raising a brow at the sight of you still partially clothed. “I said strip, sweet girl…” 

You blink, long lashes fluttering and an ache already between your thighs. Submitting to his dominance every damn time without question. The fact that he can get you naked in a matter of a few minutes without having to remove a piece of clothing himself just proves it. Bending down to push your underwear off. Letting it pool at your feet on the floor. His dark eyes flicking down over your exposed nakedness. And then working off your bra for him. Falling free of the material. Looking up at him, like waiting for his approval. You’re used to being naked with him by now. “Such a pretty girl…” He whispers, leaning in and smooching your cheek, leaving a few hot kisses along your throat before pulling back. Holding the box out to you. “This is for you…” 

He lets you take the box before stepping away, walking behind you and letting you see for yourself. You look down at the fancy container, feeling the velvet under your fingertips. Placing it on the desk before opening it. White satin cushions inside supporting a sparkling diamond pendant. A single sparkling diamond on a simple silver chain. Perfectly beautiful. 

Your eyes widening at the sight. He’s given you gifts and spoiled you always but this is a lot. “Do you like it?” His deep voice hums next to your ear suddenly. Pressing up against your back. His bare chest through his dress shirt which is now open. 

“It’s beautiful…” You manage to say. Speechless at the gesture. Leaning into him when he starts kissing your neck again. Suckling and biting down on your skin. “What’s the occasion?” You smile, breaking from your trance. 

“No occasion… just thought you needed it.” He hums, moving up on your jaw and pecking your lips. “Go away with me?”

“What?” 

“Let’s go away… anywhere in the world… just you and me.” He says. And you can’t help but turn in his arms, to face him a bit more. His hands roaming your naked body, long fingers pressing into your flesh. “I’ll give you anything… everything you want.” He whispers, looking in your eyes.

“What’s going on with you?” You whisper with a smile. The stoic, hardened man seems to become mush when he’s wrapped around you. He smiles. “I just can’t get you off my mind…” 

“Allow me.” He says, reaching his hands around you to the velvet box. Pulling the stunning necklace out. Opening the clasp and pulling it up around your neck. Sitting pretty and sparkly against your skin. Clasping it closed at your nape. Letting his fingers brush through your hair gently, then down your back. “I wanna be the only one on your mind… the only one in your heart… in your perfect pussy too…” 

He huffs, holding you tight and nuzzling his nose against yours. Dripping between your thighs and trying to press them together. “Just say ‘yes, Daddy’ and you’ll be mine…” 

You swallow hard, feeling hazy, fuzzy from his words, his touch. “Yes, Daddy…” 

“Say… ‘please, Daddy’… say it.” He whispers, dark eyes piercing into you. “P-please, Daddy…” The words leave your lips in a tiny hum, meek like a mouse caught by the cat’s claws. “Tell me what you want...” 

The bluntness makes you blush, the embarrassment of admitting the need for his attention, his love, his cock. It’s intoxicating. “I want… I… want to be yours, Daddy, please?” 

“That’s a good girl…” His lips press to yours, gathering you up in his arms. Moving his lips against your mouth, parting your lips with his tongue, tasting you again. One of his hands pushing some things back on the desk, out of the way. Lifting you up smoothly and sitting you on the edge. Nudging your legs apart and slotting between them. Your slick cooling from the air, your clit buzzing for attention. 

His fingers move down between your legs, finding your core and caressing you, making you tremble and whine into his mouth. Parting from his lips in a gasp and rolling your hips into his hand when a thick finger slips in you. “That good babygirl? Dime…” 

“Mmm so good… more Daddy… please more” You whine, your head rolling back and feeling his digits plunge into your velvet heat. Two fingers slipping in now and his thumb on your clit to get you there. To stretch you out for his cock, get you wet to take him. You always take him so well. 

“Ooh.. Da-addyyy…” You gasp, grabbing his wrist and squeaking as your impending orgasm threatens any shred of composition you still possess. ”Unghh” You growl, clenching around his fingers and coming soon after. His arm anchors around your back to keep you from squirming away. Smiling down at you and watching you fall apart. “Beautiful girl…” He whispers in praise after watching you climax, pulling out from your cunt and holding you closer still while pulling his belt out. The clink of metal and leather slipping out from the loops. Falling with a heavy clank onto the desk beside you. His pants pushed down only far enough for him to be free. Rubbing the tip of his cock up and down your heat. 

The warmth and slick tempting him. 

“You’re my good girl huh? Yeah?” 

“Y-yeah… mmmhmm…” 

“Mhm…” He hums, looking down at you almost sympathetically like you’re in heat. Pushing his tip to your entrance and prodding. Testing it out and seeing what you’ll take yet. And when you pull him closer, your legs around his waist, he pushes in more, a few inches in. The both of you hissing from the feeling.

He works you out, pushing deeper, all the way to the hilt. The dark hair at his base pushing up against your clit and tickling. The hair that travels up to his navel, dark and pretty on his skin. And then across his chest. Your hands on his chest and head in his neck as he pumps into you, squishing into you over and over. Your hands push and grab at his shirt, trying to push it off. And he lets you pull it off him, his deep skin so warm, almost like burning up. All over you, smothering you in the best way.

“You wanna come on Daddy’s cock?” He huffs, suddenly grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling back, nose to nose and pounding into your cunt faster now. “You want that, huh?”

“Mmmmnghmmm” You whine over and over. “Yes yes yes yes…”

You're his... for sure.

Taglist!! love my sweeties!

@spooky-sculder

@slushycoookie @xxyaoi-nationxx @snails-doodles22 @scaryplanetdestroyer @fate13

@divorcepaperz @yeahnohoneybye @zaunsin @tomalymme @drefear

@mrs-pondwater19 @saintdiior @aphinthestars @hyjionie

@palomanh @maxad99 @muuuwoppppp @reader-1290

@sp0ck136 @lazyninjaphilosopher

@pinkdizzyship @opalwitchart

if you'd like to be added/dropped from the taglist, please comment on my masterlist post. Or else I might not see it! thank you! 🩷