#so then I have to yearn for you for the rest of it

[peter-pumpkin-eater]

Bite

Caleb x gn!reader

summary: Sitting on Caleb's lap while sleepy might be a bad idea (you'll do it again)

warnings: slightly suggestive (nothing mentioned but hinted at), yearning, one (1) gendered pet name (pretty girl), biting

word count: 607

You were curled up in Caleb’s lap. Something was playing on the tv but you weren’t paying attention. Your half lidded eyes weighed heavy with exhaustion. It also didn’t help that Caleb’s fingers were running absentmindedly on the outside of your thigh that was tucked against him. Caleb dropped his head in the crook of your neck and stifled a yawn against your skin - the puff of hot air making the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

You melted further into him, his warmth seeping into your bones. He dragged his lips up your neck before resting behind your ear and taking a deep breath. Your scent flooded his senses and he wasn’t thinking, he was too tired and the feeling of you pressed against him was overwhelming. His lips ghosted back down your neck and the sleepy tilt of your head giving him a little more access was his breaking point.

He opened his mouth slowly and the feel of his teeth grazing across your skin set you on fire. You were suddenly wide awake. Before you could fully process what was happening you felt his teeth sink into your neck. It wasn't a hard bite, but you know that it’ll probably leave a mark.

“Ah~” You gasped before throwing a hand over your mouth. The sound you made not only startled you but also Caleb. He froze against you before you could feel the curl of his lips against your skin.. 

“You like that?” Caleb’s gravely voice chuckled against the shell of your ear. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly, still having a hand over your mouth. Caleb wrapped his arms tighter around your torso, the hand that was on your thigh snaking under it pulling you closer against him. 

Your heart was beating so fast you were sure Caleb could feel it through your back. His lips moved to your shoulder and you shivered. 

“Talk to me, baby.” He purred against your skin before sinking his teeth in again, gentler this time. You think you could feel his tongue run over the bite mark.

“Mm!” you moaned against your hand before dropping them to claw at Caleb's arm around you. You needed to get off his lap before you embarrassed yourself further. Another chuckle puffed against your ear. 

“Does my pretty girl like being bitten? Naughty.” He teased. 

“Caleb. Need t-” you gasped using both hands to try and peel his arm from you.

“Need to, what?” He spoke as he ran his nose against your pulse point. He was taking this too far. He should stop. He doesn't want to scare you away, but the way you're shaking on top of him and those oh so pretty sounds falling past your lips were a drug he will never stop trying to get now that he’s had a taste. 

You wiggle against him trying to break free. “I- I need to get up” You stuttered out.

Caleb had to let you go now. It was getting harder for him to control himself and if anything, this was a perfect test to see how far he could push you. He loosens his arms around you and you bolt from his lap and up the stairs. He sighs heavily with a smile on his lips and leans into the couch. He adjusted his sweats and was sure you had felt his own reaction to this against you. 

Upstairs you had locked yourself in the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face. You looked up at yourself in the mirror and groaned at the very obvious bite mark on your neck. You were fucked.

[honeyhae-svt]

(🧸ྀི)🖇 ༘ ⋆"My Brother's Bestfriend"

' ╰┈ 'who would've thought you'd end up in a tangled mess with your brother's bestfriend?'

' .☘︎ ݁˖' '원우 x f!reader

🎧ྀི 'ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Home (Seventeen) ♫⋆₊˚ ﾟ. 'ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ genre / tags: fluff, light angst, smut, established relationship, doting!boyfriend wonwoo, slightly possessive!wonwoo, light comedy, soft but intense makeout sessions, lap-sitting & straddling, emotional intimacy, domestic sweetness, wonwoo being obsessed with reader™, mild tension but nothing too serious, clingy!wonwoo (unintentionally), wonwoo official lipstick tester & lip plumper ੈ✩‧₊˚ warnings: NSFW WARNINGS UNDER THE CUT ! wonwoo being so whipped it's unfair, excessive cuteness & boyfriend material behavior, a little bit of yearning ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗ nsfw warnings: oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, overstimulation, semi-public sex, reader doesn't get pregnant, heavy & passionate makeout sessions, straddling wonwoo’s lap, deep kissing, light grinding, soft!but still kind of desperate!wonwoo, possessive whispers, needy touches, some lip biting, breathy moans, heated tension but still very loving ੈ✩‧₊˚ wc: 11,809 ੈ♡ a/n: i'm never going to shut up about wonwoo fics. i love this one and yeah, it's my favorite now. i don't even know if i want to end it, so i made a part two cause i love this way too much. if you don't like it, DON'T READ>>>don't steal my happiness.

It was a Friday—a perfect day to go outside, breathe in the fresh air, and maybe even touch some grass. But Wonwoo? He was planted in his chair, fingers flying over his keyboard, eyes locked on his screen as he dove deeper into his game. Sunlight streamed through his window, but he barely noticed. His entire focus was on his mission.

Then, of course, his phone rang.

The sudden vibration made him flinch, just in time for his in-game character to take a fatal hit. A sigh slipped past his lips, long and resigned, as the screen dimmed to black. Game over.

Annoyed, he reached for his phone without checking the caller ID. "What."

"Hey, Wonwoo!" Mingyu's voice rang through, far too cheerful for his liking. "You remember that money you owe me?"

Wonwoo leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple. "I paid you back."

"Yeah, like, half. You still owe me ₩103,000."

Wonwoo scowled. "What do you want, Mingyu?"

"I'll cancel the debt if you pick up my sister from her hagwon."

Wonwoo blinked. He could practically see Mingyu's smug face through the phone. "...Are you serious?"

"Dead serious. Think of it as a fair trade. You get out of debt, and I don't have to leave my photoshoot early. Win-win, right?"

Wonwoo exhaled sharply, glancing at the gaming laptop he had been saving up for. A hundred thousand won wasn't something he could just brush off. And really, what was so hard about picking someone up? He'd just drive there, wait, and drop her off. No big deal.

"Fine. Send me the details."

"Knew I could count on you!" Mingyu cackled before promptly hanging up.

Wonwoo stared at his phone, regretting everything.

Later that evening, Wonwoo pulled up in front of the hagwon (cram school), resting his arm on the window frame as he scrolled mindlessly through his phone. The street was packed—students flooding out, parents calling names, engines revving. He ignored all of it, his attention on the notifications lighting up his screen.

A knock on the window pulled him out of his trance. He looked up.

There you were, bright-eyed and smiling. Mingyu's sister. You had the same features as him, Mingyu was handsome, there was no second guessing you'd be really pretty as well.

It really runs on the family huh, but your energy was a complete contrast. Where Mingyu was overbearing, you seemed naturally lighthearted.

Wonwoo unlocked the door, watching as you slipped inside. "Hey, thanks for picking me up! I could've taken the bus, but this is definitely an upgrade."

He put his phone down and shifted into drive. "Mingyu made me."

"Obviously." You laughed, buckling your seatbelt. "If it were up to you, you'd rather be home playing some game, right?"

Wonwoo glanced at you briefly before focusing back on the road. "...Something like that."

You stretched out in the passenger seat, completely unfazed by his short responses. "Figures. My brother said you never leave your house unless it's life or death."

"He exaggerates. I go out when I need to."

"Mmm-hmm. Like now?"

"Like now."

You laughed again, shaking your head. "Unbelievable."

You both drove in silence for a bit, though it wasn't uncomfortable. You hummed softly to whatever song played on the radio, while Wonwoo kept his eyes on the road, appreciating the fact that you weren't forcing conversation.

Then, after a few minutes, you turned to him. "So, what's the real reason Mingyu couldn't pick me up?"

"I told you. Photoshoot."

You raised a brow. "And you believe that?"

Wonwoo hesitated, then shrugged. "Not really, but it's not my problem."

You grinned. "Smart man."

He smirked slightly but didn't comment.

When you pulled up in front of your house, you unbuckled your seatbelt and turned to him with an easygoing smile. "Thanks again, Wonwoo. I owe you one."

"No, you don't. Mingyu does."

You laughed. "True. But still, I appreciate it."

Wonwoo just gave a small nod. "It's fine."

As you stepped out of the car, you waved. "See you around!"

He didn't respond, but after you disappeared into the house, he lingered for a second longer than necessary before finally driving off.

Maybe the day hadn't been a total waste after all.

A couple of days later, Mingyu called Wonwoo again, but this time it wasn't for any money or favor. Instead, he was inviting him over to his apartment for a casual hangout.

"Yo, you coming? I'm having a few friends over tonight, including Joshua, Seungkwan, Vernon, and Minghao. It's nothing special, just wanted to hang out."

Wonwoo was about to decline—he had a ton of work to do—but then Mingyu dropped the one detail that made him reconsider.

"Oh, and my sister will be here too. She's staying with me for the weekend, so I figured you could catch up with her."

Wonwoo didn't immediately respond. It wasn't the idea of seeing Mingyu's sister that stopped him—it was more the fact that he wasn't entirely sure how to act around you yet. The two of you hadn't really had a chance to talk much after that brief car ride. He had no idea what you'd be like outside of that moment, and Mingyu always had a way of making everything a little awkward when it came to his little sister.

"...Fine," Wonwoo finally relented, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll stop by."

When Wonwoo arrived at Mingyu's apartment, the atmosphere was relaxed. Joshua was already lounging on the couch, casually scrolling through his phone, and a few other friends were scattered around, chatting. Mingyu was in the kitchen, preparing snacks—probably to feed his giant appetite. The usual loud energy that always accompanied Mingyu's presence was alive in the air.

But there was no sign of you.

Wonwoo made his way to the living room, greeting Joshua with a nod, but the silence between them was noticeable. Joshua shot him a playful glance, but before they could talk much more, Mingyu called out from the kitchen.

"Yo, Wonwoo! Help me with these drinks!"

Wonwoo reluctantly walked into the kitchen, but as soon as he stepped through the doorway, he froze.

There, standing at the counter, was you—completely at ease, casually chopping vegetables as if you'd been there the whole time. You looked up at him, your eyes lighting up in surprise.

"Oh, you're here!" you exclaimed with a smile, your hands still busy at the cutting board. "I didn't think you'd be the first one to show up."

Wonwoo blinked, a bit caught off guard. He hadn't expected to see you in the kitchen, especially not so comfortable.

"You're... here?" he said, unsure of how to react. "I thought you were... uh, I don't know... staying in your room or something."

You let out a small laugh, your eyes sparkling with amusement. "I was, but then Mingyu didn't have enough snacks. He asked me to help out." You gestured to the plates you had already prepped, your movements smooth and confident, as though you'd done this a thousand times. "I figured you'd all be hungry."

Wonwoo was honestly impressed. The last time he saw you, you were cheerful and talkative, but he didn't expect this... domestic side of you. He felt a little out of place in the kitchen, but he didn't want to act awkward.

"I'm sure Mingyu can handle it," he replied, trying to mask his surprise with a nonchalant tone.

You smirked, clearly catching onto his tone. "Yeah, but I'm sure he'll make a mess of it. You know how he is." You shook your head, looking back at your brother as Mingyu popped his head around the corner, grinning.

"I heard that!" Mingyu called, sticking his tongue out before retreating back to the living room.

You chuckled at his antics before focusing back on the food you were preparing. "Anyway, I'm glad you made it. I figured we'd finally have some time to talk," you said, your voice light and welcoming, making it clear you weren't bothered by the sudden interruption.

Wonwoo nodded, still trying to shake off the initial surprise. "Yeah, I guess we never really got to chat much." He leaned against the kitchen counter, unsure of where to go from there.

"You're a bit of a man of few words, huh?" you asked with a teasing grin, raising an eyebrow as you slid the plate of veggies aside. "Mingyu always talks about how you're so quiet, but I didn't realize it was this bad."

Wonwoo gave you a half-smile, feeling slightly embarrassed. "I don't talk much unless I have to," he said, his usual dry tone creeping through.

You just laughed, the sound easy and warm, making him feel less self-conscious. "Well, I'll make sure to fill the silence then," you said cheerfully, as if you were on a mission to make him feel comfortable. "You're kind of a hard nut to crack, but I think I can manage."

The tension that had been there earlier started to melt away, and Wonwoo found himself talking a little more than he usually did. You asked him questions, talked about school, and even joked about how overprotective Mingyu could be at times. As the minutes passed, he realized how much easier it was to talk to you than he initially thought.

By the time he moved back into the living room with the snacks, there was no awkwardness between the two of you anymore. You had succeeded in doing what few could—making Wonwoo feel at ease.

A few days later, Wonwoo had stayed at Mingyu's apartment, slacking off on the sofa while playing some horror games on Mingyu's television.

"You're really bad at Identity V, Mingyu," Wonwoo teased, getting a little frustrated at how Mingyu had to be revived multiple times.

"Just switch the game already, this one's boring," Mingyu groaned, throwing the controller to the side.

Wonwoo just chuckled, not even pausing the game.

Then, the doorbell rang.

Mingyu groaned, dragging himself off the couch. "Ah, right. I forgot—my sister was dropping off some kimchi from Mom before she heads to cram school."

When you stepped inside, you flashed Mingyu a quick smile before handing him the containers. "Mom said to eat it while it's fresh."

Mingyu took them with a nod, already peeking inside. "Smells good." Then, without looking up, he asked, "You want me to drop you off at cram school?"

You shook your head. "Nah, I'll just take the bus. It's not that far."

Wonwoo, who had been watching from the couch, found himself unexpectedly... disappointed? He wasn't sure why, but he had kind of looked forward to talking to you again. You were easy to be around—bubbly, charming, and not at all fazed by his quiet nature. Not many people could handle his silence so effortlessly.

Mingyu, meanwhile, was still leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. "You sure? It's getting late."

"I'll be fine," you insisted, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. "It's just cram school, not a different planet."

Wonwoo hesitated for a second before speaking up. "Hey."

You turned toward him, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

He cleared his throat, feeling a little out of place but saying it anyway. "I can walk you."

You blinked, clearly surprised. "Oh? Why, so you can chat me up again?" you teased with a wink.

Mingyu snorted, looking between the two of you. "Since when do you offer to walk people places, Wonwoo?"

Wonwoo shot him a look but didn't bother responding. Instead, he turned back to you, waiting for your answer.

You grinned, clearly amused by the whole situation. "Alright, alright. But no awkward silences, got it?"

Wonwoo nodded, grabbing his jacket as he followed you out the door. Mingyu watched the two of you leave, shaking his head with a grin. "Well, that's new."

Mingyu leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching the scene with growing amusement. Wonwoo wasn't the type to jump at social interactions, especially not when it came to people outside their usual circle. And yet, here he was, offering to walk you to hagwon like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Mingyu's brows furrowed, suspicion creeping in.

No way. Does Wonwoo... like my sister?

The thought nearly made him laugh out loud. He knew Wonwoo well—too well, in fact. His best friend wasn't the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve, let alone make some grand romantic gesture. But still, the way he lingered, the way his gaze flickered toward you, even the fact that he was putting in the effort to talk—something was definitely up.

Mingyu smirked, but he kept his mouth shut. For now.

"So," he drawled, pushing off the doorway, "you two gonna be alright?"

Wonwoo shot him a look, equal parts unimpressed and knowing. Meanwhile, you just rolled your eyes. "We'll survive, Gyu."

Mingyu chuckled. "Alright, alright. Have fun, lovebirds."

"Bye, Mingyu," you deadpanned, grabbing Wonwoo's wrist and tugging him down the hallway before your brother could say anything else. Wonwoo barely had time to process it before he was matching your pace, hands stuffed into his pockets.

The air between you was light, easy. You glanced up at him with a grin. "Didn't think I'd ever get you to walk me to hagwon. Kinda fun, huh?"

Wonwoo huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Not what I expected to be doing today, that's for sure."

You nudged him lightly. "What, hanging out with me is that bad?"

He glanced at you—really looked this time. You were different from Mingyu's usual crowd. Where his friends were loud and chaotic, you had this effortless energy that didn't demand anything from him. You just... talked, and somehow, he found himself talking back. It was weird, but not in a bad way.

"You're different," you mused, tilting your head. "I mean, I knew you were quiet, but you're not as... closed off as I thought you'd be."

Wonwoo smirked slightly, gaze forward. "I'm still quiet."

"Mm, not with me," you pointed out, eyes twinkling. "Why's that?"

Wonwoo hesitated, not because he didn't have an answer, but because he wasn't sure how to say it. Instead, he settled for the truth, plain and simple. "I don't feel like I have to try so hard with you."

Your steps slowed just slightly, your expression softening. "Huh. That's kinda nice."

He exhaled a small chuckle. "Guess you're a special case."

"Ooo, so I'm special?" you teased.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," he muttered, but the faint smile on his face gave him away.

The conversation drifted into easier topics, laughter and playful jabs exchanged as the hagwon came into view. Wonwoo still didn't know what exactly made him want to be around you, but he didn't mind figuring it out along the way.

Meanwhile, back at the apartment, Mingyu leaned against the window, watching the two of you disappear into the distance.

Yeah, something was definitely up.

And as your older brother, he was gonna keep an eye on it.

A few days after that walk, Wonwoo found himself running into you more often than he expected. At first, it was innocent enough—quick encounters while he was out running errands or grabbing coffee with Mingyu. But soon, those moments stretched longer, turning into something he actually started looking forward to.

It didn't help that teasing you had become his new favorite pastime.

You'd be minding your own business, walking down the hallway in Mingyu's apartment building, when suddenly, you'd sense a presence behind you. Turning around, you'd find Wonwoo leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a smirk playing at his lips.

"Going somewhere, princess?"

The nickname never failed to make you flush, though you'd gotten better at rolling your eyes in response. Still, it was the way he said it—so effortlessly teasing—that made your stomach flip, like you were missing the punchline to some inside joke.

At first, you chalked it up to friendly chatter. But the more it happened, the harder it became to tell if he was just being playful or if there was something else beneath it.

Then came the café incident.

You were sitting with your friends, chatting about classes, when one of them suddenly perked up, nodding toward the entrance. "Hey, isn't that your boyfriend?"

You blinked in confusion, following their gaze—only for your breath to catch slightly when you saw Wonwoo stepping inside, exuding that quiet, effortless confidence he always carried.

"What? No way," you sputtered, your voice catching as you waved off the idea.

Your friends exchanged knowing looks. "Come on, we've seen you two together all the time lately," one of them pointed out. "And let's be real, you'd make a cute couple."

Your face went hot. "He's not my boyfriend!"

"Then why do you look so guilty?" Another friend smirked.

Before you could form a coherent response, Wonwoo approached the table, sliding into the seat next to you as if he belonged there. "What's all this talk about me?" he asked, his deep voice laced with amusement.

"Nothing!" You nearly choked on the word, sitting up straighter.

Your friends weren't buying it. "We were just saying how cute you two look together," one of them supplied, grinning mischievously.

Wonwoo, the absolute menace, didn't even flinch. Instead, he leaned back lazily, his lips curving into that smirk that made your heart stutter. "Cute, huh?" he mused. Then, with a glance in your direction, he added, "She's already shy around me. You think she'd survive being my girlfriend?"

You gawked at him. "Wonwoo!"

He chuckled, clearly enjoying the way you flustered so easily. "Relax," he murmured, leaning in slightly, just enough to send your brain into overdrive. "I'm just helping you out. You should be thanking me for making you so popular."

You shot him a glare, but your friends were eating it up, laughing as they nudged each other. "Honestly, you two are like an old married couple already."

You groaned, burying your face in your hands, half-expecting the ground to swallow you whole. Meanwhile, Wonwoo looked way too pleased with himself, the playful glint in his eyes only growing stronger.

And from that day on, it only got worse.

Every time he ran into you, your friends' words echoed in your mind, making you hyperaware of every smirk, every lingering glance, every low chuckle. You weren't sure if it was all just a joke to him, but the real problem was—you were starting to hope it wasn't.

Because, teasing aside, there was something about the way he looked at you lately. Something softer, something unreadable. And that? That was the most confusing part of all.

Over the next few days, it became a pattern—these little run-ins, the teasing, the way Wonwoo always seemed to appear right when you thought you'd get a break from his smug remarks. If you were being honest, it was starting to feel less like coincidence and more like... something else.

Like right now.

You had just finished your class at the hagwon and were walking home when you heard footsteps behind you. At first, you didn't think much of it. But then—

"Hey, princess."

You nearly tripped over your own feet. Whipping around, you found Wonwoo standing there, hands in his pockets, looking entirely too smug.

"Seriously?" you huffed. "Do you have a tracker on me or something?"

He chuckled, falling into step beside you. "Nah. Just good timing."

"Suspicious timing," you muttered under your breath.

He grinned. "What, you don't like seeing me?"

You opened your mouth, ready to give a snarky reply, but the words stuck in your throat. Because, truthfully, you did like seeing him. You liked how he always managed to sneak into your day, turning normal moments into something else—something charged with a kind of tension you weren't sure how to handle yet.

But you weren't about to admit that.

"Did you just happen to be in the area, or are you stalking me now?" you teased instead, nudging him lightly with your elbow.

Wonwoo made a thoughtful sound, tilting his head. "Hmm. I guess I should start charging for my services if I'm going to be your personal bodyguard."

You rolled your eyes. "Bodyguard? Please. What are you protecting me from? My own two feet?"

He smirked. "You almost tripped earlier. Maybe you do need me."

Your mouth opened, then closed. He had a point, but you weren't going to let him have the satisfaction of winning this round. Instead, you crossed your arms and shot him a playful glare.

"You're insufferable, you know that?"

"And yet, here we are," he mused, his voice low, almost amused. "Walking home together. Again."

You faltered. There was something about the way he said it—like he was reminding you that these weren't just coincidences anymore. That maybe, just maybe, he was seeking you out just as much as you were looking forward to seeing him.

The thought made warmth creep up your neck.

The walk continued, the air between you shifting—still lighthearted, but tinged with something heavier, something unspoken. At some point, you felt the faintest brush of his hand against yours. It was barely anything, just a fleeting touch, but it sent a jolt up your spine.

You glanced at him, half-expecting him to be smirking at your reaction, but instead, Wonwoo was looking ahead, his expression unreadable.

The silence stretched between you for a beat too long.

"You're quieter than usual," you finally said, your voice softer now.

Wonwoo hummed, glancing at you. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

He hesitated, then shrugged. "You."

Your breath hitched. You blinked, caught completely off guard by the casual way he said it—like it wasn't something that would send your heart into a tailspin.

He must've noticed your reaction because his lips twitched into something close to a smirk. "Surprised?"

You scoffed, desperate to regain some control over the conversation. "You say that like I should just expect it."

"Maybe you should," he said, voice smooth, teasing, but with a weight behind it that made your stomach flip.

And just like that, the game between you shifted. It wasn't just harmless teasing anymore. It was charged, loaded with something more than just playful.

You were in trouble.

And worse? You weren't sure you minded.

Wonwoo should've seen it coming.

He was halfway through his iced americano when Mingyu—who had been rambling about his fantasy basketball team for the past fifteen minutes—suddenly leaned forward with a serious look. The shift in his tone was so abrupt that Wonwoo nearly choked on his drink.

"Don't date my sister."

Wonwoo blinked. "...Huh?"

Mingyu crossed his arms, leveling him with a look that was rare for him—stern, like he wasn't just joking around. "I'm serious. I know how you are, Wonwoo."

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance. "How am I?"

"You don't do relationships," Mingyu shot back. "You flirt, you have fun, and then—poof—you're gone."

"That's not true," Wonwoo muttered, looking away.

"Dude. Jiwoo? Jiekyo? Mijin?" Mingyu listed off names, counting on his fingers. "You get bored too easily. My sister's not just some girl you can play around with."

That one stung.

Wonwoo clicked his tongue, tapping his fingers against his coffee cup. "You make me sound like some heartless asshole."

Mingyu exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I'm not saying you're a bad guy. I know you, Wonwoo. You just... don't take these things seriously. And I don't want her getting hurt because she thinks you do."

Wonwoo didn't answer. He could argue—say that things were different this time, that maybe he didn't know why, but the usual rules didn't seem to apply whenever you were involved. But he also knew Mingyu had a point.

Did he even know what he was doing?

Mingyu must've taken his silence as agreement because he nodded, looking satisfied. "Good. I just wanted to clear that up."

And that should've been the end of it.

Except... you had other plans.

The problem was, you were very aware of Wonwoo's usual avoidance tactics. And yet, despite Mingyu's warning (which you totally overheard, thank you very much), you weren't about to back off. If anything, it made things more fun.

So, naturally, you decided to corner Wonwoo after one of his gym sessions.

You found him outside, sitting on a bench, scrolling through his phone like he wasn't sweating buckets from lifting weights for an hour.

"Hey," you greeted, plopping down beside him.

He glanced at you, then back at his phone. "Hey."

Silence.

You smirked. "You're avoiding me."

His thumb hovered over the screen. "No, I'm not."

"You so are." You leaned in, trying to peek at his phone. "What, are you texting my brother to report my suspicious activities?"

He sighed, locking his phone and shoving it into his pocket. "Your brother would kill me if he knew we were talking right now."

You tilted your head. "Funny, I don't see Mingyu around."

He shot you a flat look. "That's not the point."

"You're acting like he owns me or something," you teased, nudging his arm with your shoulder. "What, are you scared of him?"

Wonwoo exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "It's not about that—"

"Then what's it about?"

He paused.

You took the chance to scoot closer. "Let me guess," you hummed, tapping your chin dramatically. "You think you'll break my heart? That you'll flirt, we'll have fun, and then poof—you're gone?"

Wonwoo visibly stiffened.

Bingo.

You grinned. "What if I told you I like a little risk?"

He groaned. "Don't say stuff like that."

"Why? Is it making things harder for you?"

He looked at you then, really looked at you—like he was trying to figure out if you were messing with him or if you actually meant it. And that's when you knew you had him.

"Relax, Wonwoo," you said, leaning back with a smug smile. "I just wanna grab coffee. Not a wedding ring."

He exhaled, shaking his head, but you caught the small smirk tugging at his lips. "You're impossible."

"And you are running out of excuses."

He stared at you for another beat before groaning, rubbing his face like you were the biggest headache of his life. Then—finally—he let out a short laugh, shaking his head.

"Fine," he muttered. "One coffee."

Your grin widened. "I knew you liked me."

"Shut up."

And just like that, the game was back on.

You should've known.

One coffee turned into another. Then into late-night calls. Then into hanging out at Wonwoo's apartment, always under the pretense of studying or just chilling.

Which was a huge lie. Because, really, what kind of studying involved Wonwoo's knee pressed against yours, his fingers grazing yours every few minutes, and him murmuring things in that low voice that made your brain short-circuit?

The worst part? He knew what he was doing.

And the proof?

Right now.

You were hanging out at his place after a long day, claiming his couch like it was yours while he sat beside you. Some dumb multiplayer game was on the screen, and you were so sure you were winning.

Until Wonwoo conveniently lost at the very last second.

"You're so bad at this," you teased, laughing as you nudged his arm.

Wonwoo, who had been sitting back lazily just seconds ago, suddenly leaned forward. "You made me lose on purpose."

You gasped dramatically. "How dare you accuse me—"

Before you could finish, he moved.

Fast.

One second you were playfully bickering, and the next? You were flat on your back, pressed against the couch, with Wonwoo hovering above you—his hands trapping you on either side of your head.

Your brain short-circuited.

"W-Wait—"

Wonwoo's knee nudged between your thighs, pressing down just enough to make you hyperaware of every single point of contact between you. The air shifted, playful teasing melting into something heavier.

Something that made your skin burn.

The way he looked at you—half-lidded eyes roaming over your face, his smirk growing as he took in your reaction—made your stomach twist into knots.

The corner of his lips curled. "What's wrong?"

Your throat was so dry. "You're—you're too close."

He hummed, tilting his head slightly. "Am I?"

And then—because this man had no mercy—he dipped even lower, his nose brushing against yours as he whispered against your lips,

"You started this."

A second later, his lips crashed onto yours.

Soft but demanding, like he had been holding himself back for too long. His hands slipped down, gripping your waist, fingers digging into your sides as he pulled you impossibly close. The kiss was slow at first—just a gentle press of lips—but then Wonwoo tilted his head, deepening it, his mouth moving against yours with a languid, intoxicating rhythm.

You melted.

Your hands, which had been gripping onto his hoodie for dear life, moved on their own—one slipping into his hair, tugging slightly. The groan he let out against your lips sent a shockwave down your spine.

Wonwoo's hands moved lower, resting on your thighs before effortlessly pulling you up onto his lap.

The sudden shift made you gasp, your hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself. But before you could even think, his lips found yours again, this time more urgent, more needy.

And you?

You couldn't even pretend to fight it.

Because Wonwoo kissed like he meant it. Like he was making up for all the stolen glances, the teasing touches, the lingering tension that had built up between you for weeks.

And you let him.

Because, honestly?

You wanted it just as much.

From that night on, it was impossible to pretend you weren't completely wrapped around each other's fingers.

Sure, Mingyu didn't know yet, but Wonwoo made it really hard to act normal.

Like when he'd pick you up from hagwon (cram school) at night, leaning against his car like some effortlessly hot drama lead, hands in his pockets, waiting for you. And when you walked up, flustered and mumbling about how someone might see?

He'd just smirk and lean down, murmuring, "Let them."

Or when he'd help you study at the library but deliberately lean in too close—his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "You're not focusing."

As if he was helping??

And the worst part? He loved seeing you flustered.

Like the time he casually pulled you into an empty library aisle, tilted your chin up, and kissed you right then and there.

"You keep getting distracted," he murmured against your lips, eyes gleaming with amusement.

And you?? You just stood there, clutching your book like your life depended on it.

But hey. What Mingyu doesn't know won't kill him, right?

...Right?

---

Honestly, you and Wonwoo had been too good at sneaking around.

The stolen kisses in empty library aisles. The late-night study sessions that turned into him pulling you onto his lap just to mess with you. The way he'd casually lean against his car outside your cram school, hands shoved into his hoodie, waiting like some effortlessly cool drama lead.

Y'all really thought you were slick.

Until one night.

You were saying your goodbyes outside your house, the streetlights casting a golden glow over the both of you. Wonwoo had driven you home like always, but this time, instead of the usual quick peck and see you later, he leaned in, his hands resting on your waist, his breath warm against your lips.

"You're so cute when you're nervous," he murmured before pressing a lingering kiss to your lips, tilting his head just right so you felt it all the way down to your toes.

And that was the moment your soul left your body.

Because the second Wonwoo pulled away—both of you breathless, smiling like lovesick idiots—you heard it.

A slow. Dramatic. Clap.

You froze. Wonwoo froze.

And then—

"Well, well, well. Look what we have here."

Your blood ran cold.

You turned around so slowly you swore time slowed down.

And there, standing in front of the house, arms crossed, wearing the most betrayed expression you'd ever seen, was Kim Mingyu.

"Oh, shit," Wonwoo muttered under his breath.

"OH SHIT IS RIGHT, JEON WONWOO," Mingyu roared, stalking forward like an older brother about to ruin your entire existence.

You instinctively stepped in front of Wonwoo like that was gonna protect him from the absolute storm that was about to hit. "Mingyu, listen, before you freak out—"

"BEFORE I FREAK OUT???" Mingyu's voice cracked, eyes darting between you and Wonwoo. "YOU'RE KISSING MY BEST FRIEND ON OUR FRONT PORCH LIKE IT'S A K-DRAMA AND YOU WANT ME TO STAY CALM???"

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Looked at Wonwoo for help.

Wonwoo: 😬

You: 😭

Mingyu let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before turning to Wonwoo with the deadliest glare known to man.

"You. Follow me. NOW."

Wonwoo shot you a look—part this is it, I'm gonna die and part I regret nothing. And then he followed Mingyu inside like a man walking to his execution.

You just stood there, hands on your head, wondering if you should start preparing a eulogy.

Because one thing was certain.

Kim Mingyu was about to ruin your entire love life.

You had never paced so much in your entire life.

Standing outside your front door, you tried to listen in—tried being the keyword. But Mingyu's voice was booming from inside the house, and you could already tell from his tone that he was about to make Wonwoo regret all his life choices.

You pressed your ear against the door.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Oop. You winced. That was not a good start.

"Mingyu, calm down—" Wonwoo started, but Mingyu was having NONE of it.

"CALM DOWN? OH, SORRY, SHOULD I THROW YOU A PARTY INSTEAD? CONGRATS, YOU'RE DATING MY BABY SISTER??? BRO, I TRUSTED YOU!"

There was a pause. A deep sigh. Then:

"I told you to break up with her."

WHAT.

You slammed the door open so hard it bounced off the wall.

"EXCUSE ME??"

Both of them turned to you like deer caught in headlights.

"YOU WHAT???" you yelled, pointing at Mingyu like he'd just confessed to murder.

Mingyu blinked at you like he just realized what he said. "Uh—wait. No, that's not what I—"

Wonwoo was dying. You could see it. He was looking between the two of you, lips pressed together, trying so hard not to laugh.

You turned to Wonwoo, still pointing at Mingyu. "DID YOU KNOW THIS?"

Wonwoo immediately held his hands up. "Nope. No idea. But honestly, this is the best plot twist I've ever witnessed."

"Mingyu," you hissed, grinning like an absolute menace. "Wonwoo's a great guy. Make him break up with me and I'll never talk to you again."

Mingyu let out the loudest groan, dragging his hands down his face. "I DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT. I meant—I don't know! I just didn't want you dating Wonwoo of all people!"

"Wow. Okay. Ouch," Wonwoo muttered, actually offended.

Mingyu whirled on him. "I'M SORRY, BUT DO YOU KNOW YOUR OWN HISTORY? YOU'RE A HEARTBREAKER, BRO. I'M NOT LETTING YOU BREAK MY SISTER'S HEART."

Wonwoo's face immediately darkened. "Mingyu," he said, voice low.

And just like that, the room shifted.

Because that tone? That was not Wonwoo the sarcastic asshole. That was Wonwoo the serious guy who doesn't mess around when it comes to things that matter.

Mingyu must've felt it too, because his whole demeanor changed.

"I'm not playing around with her," Wonwoo said, steady and clear. "I'm not screwing this up." His gaze flickered to you—soft, almost apologetic, like he hated that this conversation was happening in front of you.

"I like her," he continued, voice quieter now. "A lot. More than I probably should." He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "And I get it. You're looking out for her. But Mingyu, you have to know—I wouldn't start something with her if I wasn't serious about it."

...

DEAD. SILENCE.

You held your breath, watching Mingyu's expression shift.

He looked at you. Then back at Wonwoo.

Then back at you.

And then—he sighed the biggest sigh of his life.

"Ugh. Fine." He dragged a hand through his hair, groaning. "Fine. If you two wanna make out and be disgusting, whatever. But," he said, suddenly deadly serious, "if you hurt her, Wonwoo, I swear on my life—"

"I know," Wonwoo cut in, smirking. "You'll kill me."

"No," Mingyu said. "I'll make you wish I did."

WELL.

You weren't sure whether to be relieved or terrified.

But at least you and Wonwoo weren't hiding anymore.

And the best part?

Mingyu would never find out just how much sneaking around you two had already done.

Mingyu had no idea what he had just unleashed.

Because the second he begrudgingly gave his approval, Wonwoo had decided on a new mission in life:

Make. You. Flustered.

And he was very good at it.

---

EXHIBIT A: THE COUCH INCIDENT

Mingyu was in the kitchen, completely unaware of what was happening in the living room.

You were sitting cross-legged on the couch, a controller in hand, fully focused on the game—or at least, you were trying to be.

Wonwoo, on the other hand?

Oh, he was definitely not focused on the game.

He was watching you. Studying you like a predator stalking its prey.

And the moment you made a mistake in the game, he pounced.

"HAH—GOTCHA," he laughed, tackling you onto the couch.

You yelped, the controller flying out of your hands as Wonwoo pinned you down, his arms caging you in.

"W-Wonwoo—!" you stammered, wide-eyed.

"Cheaters don't deserve to win," he teased, leaning closer. His weight was warm, his cologne intoxicating, and his smirk was nothing short of sinful.

And just when you were about to absolutely combust, he dipped his head—

And kissed you.

Deep. Slow. Lingering.

Your hands fisted his hoodie, a helpless whimper slipping from your lips as he tilted his head, kissing you deeper.

His lips moved against yours like he had all the time in the world. Like this was something he'd wanted to do for so, so long.

And then—

"WHAT THE ACTUAL FU—"

MINGYU.

Mingyu. Was. Here.

You froze.

Wonwoo froze.

Mingyu's scream could have shattered glass.

"WONWOO, GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF MY SISTER RIGHT NOW."

But Wonwoo?

Wonwoo smirked.

And he didn't move.

Instead, he pressed another slow, deliberate kiss to your lips—just to spite Mingyu.

"OH MY GOD, YOU—YOU—"

You didn't even know who moved first—Wonwoo scrambling off you or Mingyu lunging at him like a wild animal.

All you knew was you were absolutely dying of embarrassment.

EXHIBIT B: THE STUDY SESSION FROM HELL

You should've known studying with Wonwoo was a terrible idea.

Not because he wasn't helpful—he was. Very helpful.

But his idea of helping you study was apparently making you flustered as hell.

You sat across from each other in the library, a pile of textbooks between you. Wonwoo was supposed to be quizzing you, but instead—

Instead, his foot nudged yours under the table.

You ignored it.

Then his foot slid up your calf.

Your breath hitched.

And when you finally looked up at him, the bastard was smirking.

"W-what?" you stammered, gripping your pen so tight you thought it would snap.

Wonwoo propped his chin on his hand, voice low and teasing.

"Nothing," he murmured. "Just wondering how long you can focus before I distract you."

Oh. Oh.

You gulped.

And then—you felt a shadow loom over you.

MINGYU.

Again. AGAIN.

His arms were crossed. His expression? A mix of pure disgust and betrayal.

"...Am I interrupting something?" he asked flatly.

You and Wonwoo both jumped apart like you'd been electrocuted.

"N-no!" you squeaked.

Mingyu's eyes narrowed.

"...Are you two seriously making out in the LIBRARY???"

Wonwoo, without missing a beat: "Wouldn't be the first time."

Mingyu died on the spot.

Mingyu was 100% sure he was living in his own personal hell.

Because every time he turned around, Wonwoo was doing something to make his little sister blush like crazy.

A hand on her waist. A whisper in her ear. A kiss on the cheek.

AND IT WAS DRIVING MINGYU INSANE.

He started setting rules.

"NO KISSING IN FRONT OF ME."

But then, Wonwoo would smirk and kiss you on the forehead instead.

"NO TOUCHING."

So Wonwoo would lace your fingers together behind his back, out of Mingyu's sight.

"NO SECRET GLANCES—OH MY GOD, I SAW THAT, YOU THINK I CAN'T SEE YOU TWO STARING AT EACH OTHER??? STOP IT. STOP IT RIGHT NOW."

Wonwoo, grinning like a menace: "I don't know what you're talking about."

Mingyu was this close to throwing himself off a cliff.

The moment Wonwoo got you alone in his apartment, there was no hesitation. The second the door clicked shut, his hands were already on you—warm, firm, desperate in a way that sent shivers up your spine. His fingers trailed along your waist, pulling you flush against him before he backed you up against the kitchen counter, his dark eyes locked onto yours, filled with something dangerous—something hungry.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he murmured, voice low and rough, the heat of his breath fanning over your lips.

Before you could answer, his lips crashed onto yours, devouring, claiming, stealing every last ounce of air from your lungs. His hands roamed, fingers sliding down the curve of your back, gripping, exploring, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. Your knees nearly buckled from the intensity, the sheer heat of it all, but Wonwoo held you firm, like he'd never let you go.

His lips trailed down, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, your neck, sucking lightly until you whimpered—until he had you melting for him, hands gripping onto his shirt like you needed something to hold onto or else you'd fall apart.

"Wonwoo," you gasped when he suddenly hoisted you up onto the counter with ease, spreading your thighs so he could step between them, his hands sliding under your dress, fingers tracing the sensitive skin along the inside of your thighs.

You barely had time to react before he tilted your chin up with his fingers, his lips brushing yours as he whispered, "Tell me to stop."

But you didn't. You couldn't. Instead, you pulled him in, kissing him with all the desperation you felt in your body.

He groaned into your mouth, deep and guttural, and suddenly, the warmth of his hands was gone—but only so he could hook his fingers around your dress and unzip it, painfully slow.

The fabric slid off your shoulders, pooling around your waist as Wonwoo's eyes darkened. His fingers traced down your bare skin, mapping out every inch of you, as if memorizing the way you shivered under his touch.

Then, in one swift motion, he lifted you off the counter with ease, his lips never leaving yours as he carried you through the apartment—straight to his neatly arranged bedroom.

You barely had time to take in your surroundings before Wonwoo pinned you onto the bed, hovering over you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his eyes burning into yours.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," he muttered against your lips before kissing you senseless— deep, slow, and thorough, like he was savoring every second.

His lips trailed lower, down your neck, your collarbone, his hands exploring, teasing, making you squirm under his touch.

He was taking his time, driving you insane, and when his fingers finally dipped lower, teasing at the edge of your underwear, you let out a shaky breath.

"Wonwoo," you pleaded.

He smirked, dragging his lips back up to your ear. "Patience, princess."

But patience was the last thing on your mind when he finally, finally touched you.

The second his fingers slipped past the band of your underwear, featherlight but deliberate, you shivered beneath him. Wonwoo took his time, tracing along your soaked heat with the slightest pressure—just enough to make you tremble, but not enough to satisfy the aching need building in your core.

He was cruel like that.

His lips brushed against your ear, his voice low, deep, and intoxicating.

"Look at you..." he murmured, dragging a single finger down your slick folds before circling your entrance—just barely pushing in. "So wet already. Is this all for me?"

Your breath hitched, your fingers tightening in his shirt.

"Wonwoo, please—"

A sharp gasp left your lips when he suddenly pushed in one finger, slow and deliberate, letting you feel every inch before curling it just right, pressing against that sensitive spot inside you.

"Please what, baby?" His smirk was dangerous, his movements even more so as he added a second finger, stretching you, filling you, setting an excruciatingly slow rhythm that made you feel helplessly desperate.

Your hips bucked instinctively, seeking more, but Wonwoo only chuckled, his free hand pressing you down against the mattress.

"Needy little thing," he muttered before dipping down to kiss you again, swallowing every whimper, every broken moan as his fingers moved faster—deeper.

You were barely holding onto reality at this point. The heat, the pleasure, the way his voice sent shivers through your spine—it was too much and not enough all at once.

Then suddenly, he was gone.

You whined at the loss, blinking up at him in frustration, but Wonwoo only chuckled as he pulled his shirt over his head—revealing his lean, toned body, his sharp jaw, his intense gaze locked onto yours like you were the only thing he could see.

"Relax, baby," he whispered, crawling back over you, caging you in beneath him. "I'm not done with you yet."

His lips trailed lower, down your neck, your chest, your stomach— his tongue and lips teasing, tasting, claiming every inch of your skin until you were gasping beneath him.

By the time he reached your soaked heat, you were already a mess—whimpering, squirming, aching for more.

And when he lowered his head between your thighs, his dark eyes flickering up to meet yours just before his tongue flicked against your most sensitive spot—

You swore you saw stars.

The first stroke of his tongue sent a full-body shudder through you, your fingers immediately tangling in his hair as he dragged the flat of his tongue along your soaked heat.

Wonwoo hummed at the taste, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you still as he set a slow, torturous rhythm—kissing, licking, sucking—his tongue swirling around your sensitive bud before flicking against it in teasing little strokes that left you gasping for air.

Your thighs trembled, threatening to close around his head, but he only chuckled against you, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through your already overwhelmed body.

"Already shaking, baby?" he murmured, lips brushing against your core, voice dripping with amusement and hunger. "Thought you wanted more?"

You barely had time to answer before his tongue plunged inside you, and that was it—your head fell back against the pillow, your back arching off the bed, your grip in his hair tightening as he ate you like he was starving.

Deep, slow strokes. Messy, wet kisses. His nose brushing against your clit just right.

It was filthy. It was heaven.

Wonwoo knew exactly what he was doing, and he was doing it so well it had you a whimpering, moaning mess beneath him, your legs trembling as he took his sweet time ruining you.

The heat in your stomach coiled tighter and tighter, your thighs twitching with every sinful movement of his mouth, until—

"Wonwoo—I'm—"

He didn't stop. If anything, he devoured you harder, one hand reaching up to lace his fingers with yours while the other pinned you down as you cried out, your orgasm crashing over you so hard your vision went white.

Your whole body tensed, shook, melted all at once as he licked you through it, riding out your high until you were twitching from oversensitivity.

Only then did he finally pull away, lips and chin glistening, looking up at you with dark, satisfied eyes.

"You taste so fucking good," he muttered, crawling back up, his body hot and solid against yours as he captured your lips in a messy, heated kiss—letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

And just when you thought you couldn't handle any more, you felt it.

The hard press of his cock against your thigh. Heavy. Hot. Desperate.

Wonwoo groaned against your lips, his hips grinding against you in slow, torturous drags.

"I need you, baby," he whispered against your lips, his voice wrecked with hunger, want, need.

He reached down, gripping himself, lining up against your still-throbbing heat—

"Tell me you want this."

His voice was gravelly, deep, wrecked, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot against your lips.

You exhaled, still dizzy, still trembling, but you knew exactly what you wanted.

"Wonwoo..." You cupped his face, brushing your lips against his, meeting his dark, burning gaze.

"I want you. All of you."

That was all he needed.

With a low, guttural groan, he pushed in—

The stretch of him had you gasping—a slow, deliberate push that filled you inch by inch, his cock dragging along your walls so deep, so hot that your nails dug into his shoulders.

Wonwoo groaned against your throat, his breath ragged as he stilled inside you for a moment—his fingers gripping your thighs tightly, almost trembling.

"Fuck—you're so tight, baby," he muttered, voice wrecked, strained, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck as he bottomed out.

The feeling was overwhelming. The stretch. The heat. The way his hips were pressed flush against yours, his cock pulsing inside you.

"You okay?" he whispered, kissing your jaw, your cheek, your lips.

You barely had time to answer before he rolled his hips, dragging himself out before pushing back in with a slow, deep thrust that had you moaning into his mouth.

And then he did it again. And again.

Slow. Deep. Hard.

His hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you against him with every thrust, burying himself so deep you felt him everywhere.

"You feel so fucking good," he groaned, forehead pressed against yours as his pace quickened, the slow drag of his cock turning into harder, deeper strokes.

Your body arched beneath him, chasing the friction, your legs wrapping around his waist as you gasped, whimpered, moaned, nails raking down his back as he thrust into you harder.

The room was filled with the sound of skin against skin, of breathless gasps, of desperate moans.

The pleasure built fast and hot, your body tightening around him, your thighs trembling as his movements turned desperate, hungry.

"Wonwoo—" you moaned his name, voice wrecked, needy, broken.

His pace stuttered at that—his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself deeper, faster, harder, hips snapping against yours in deep, punishing thrusts.

"Say it again," he growled against your lips, his hand slipping between your bodies, fingers pressing against your sensitive clit, rubbing tight, slow circles.

"Wonwoo—oh my god—"

The heat coiled tighter, your body tensing, trembling, shattering—

And then you were falling apart.

Your orgasm crashed over you in waves, your body tightening around him as you cried out, gasping his name, trembling beneath him.

Wonwoo groaned, cursing under his breath, his thrusts turning erratic, deeper, rougher as he chased his own high—until with one final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you, his body shuddering as he came, moaning your name against your lips.

For a moment, the room was silent, heavy with heat, with breathless gasps, with the aftershocks of pleasure still running through both of you.

Then, slowly, he pulled out, pressing a lazy, lingering kiss to your lips, his hands still holding your body so close, so tight.

You were dazed, boneless, completely ruined.

And so was he.

Wonwoo chuckled, breathless, tucking your hair behind your ear as he smirked down at you.

"Think Mingyu's gonna kill me if he finds out?"

You groaned, shoving him playfully, but he only laughed, kissing you again, slower this time, softer.

"You're mine now, you know that, right?"

And with the way he was looking at you, you knew there was no going back.

The aftermath was warm, quiet, and dangerously comfortable. Wonwoo was still half on top of you, his body radiating heat, his breath slow and steady against your shoulder. His arm was firm around your waist, keeping you close, like he wasn't ready to let go.

"You good?" he murmured, his voice deep, low, still wrecked from what just happened.

You hummed, nuzzling closer, feeling the soft press of his lips against your forehead.

This was nice.

Too nice.

And then your phone vibrated.

Wonwoo groaned, burying his face in your neck. "Don't answer it."

But you had to. Because when you reached for it, Mingyu's name was staring back at you.

Shit.

You shot up so fast that Wonwoo barely had time to react before you were scrambling for your clothes, your heart pounding.

Wonwoo, still half-naked and looking so effortlessly wrecked, just lay there, watching you in pure amusement.

"Relax," he said, grinning like a menace. "He doesn't know you're here."

You shot him a glare, still clutching your phone like it was a ticking bomb.

"He will if I don't answer," you hissed, and before Wonwoo could make another smart remark, you swiped to pick up the call.

"Mingyu?"

"Where the hell are you?"

You froze. Shit.

Wonwoo was watching you closely now, eyes dark with amusement, but he didn't move—just propped himself up on one elbow, looking like sin itself.

You cleared your throat, desperately trying to sound normal. "I—I'm at the library."

Wonwoo bit his lip, shaking his head.

Liar.

"The library?" Mingyu sounded skeptical. "You never stay this late."

Think. Think.

"Uh, yeah, well—Wonwoo said he'd help me study," you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

The silence on the other end was deafening.

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow.

"Mingyu?" you tried again.

"You're with Wonwoo?"

Your stomach dropped.

Wonwoo, the absolute devil that he was, just grinned, running a hand through his messy hair like he wasn't literally in bed with you.

"You—" Mingyu let out a sharp exhale. "I swear to god, if that bastard tries anything—"

"Relax!" you cut in quickly, forcing out a laugh. "It's just studying."

Wonwoo snorted.

Mingyu sighed. "I don't trust him."

"Gee, thanks, Gyu," Wonwoo said loudly, just to be annoying.

You glared at him, mouthing 'shut up' before turning back to the call. "I'll be home soon, okay?"

Mingyu grumbled something under his breath but eventually let you go.

The moment you hung up, you turned to Wonwoo, scowling.

"You were not helpful."

Wonwoo only smirked, sitting up, the sheets sliding down his torso, revealing even more of his very distracting body.

"Studying, huh?" he teased.

You threw a pillow at him.

"Shut up."

Sneaking around was thrilling.

Maybe it was the risk of getting caught, or maybe it was the way Wonwoo would sneak touches when no one was looking—his fingers grazing your waist, his lips brushing your ear just to whisper the most unnecessary things.

But Mingyu was getting suspicious.

And Wonwoo? He was making it worse on purpose.

Like now.

You were sitting across from Mingyu at a café, trying to act normal, when Wonwoo slid into the seat beside you—so close that your knees bumped under the table.

"Gyu," he greeted casually, stealing a fry from Mingyu's plate.

Mingyu narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Wonwoo just shrugged, unfazed. "Saw you two and thought I'd join."

Liar.

You knew for a fact that he had been waiting outside the whole time, texting you the filthiest things under the table, just to watch you squirm.

Now, he was acting innocent.

And he was way too close.

So close that you could feel the heat of his thigh against yours, the brush of his fingers as he reached for another fry.

Mingyu was still watching him suspiciously.

And then Wonwoo did it.

His hand, sneaky as hell, slid under the table.

Onto your thigh.

You froze.

Your breath caught in your throat as his fingers pressed against your bare skin, teasing, stroking, inching higher.

You shot him a warning look, trying not to choke on your drink.

He only smirked, looking way too entertained.

Mingyu, completely unaware, was rambling about something—basketball? A movie? You weren't even listening. Because Wonwoo was dragging his fingers along the hem of your skirt, toying with it, barely slipping underneath.

You squeezed your legs shut, but it only trapped his hand there.

His gaze flickered to yours, dark, teasing.

'Relax,' his eyes seemed to say. 'Unless you want him to notice.'

You bit your lip so hard it almost hurt.

Mingyu frowned. "Why do you look weird?"

Shit.

You cleared your throat, forcing a smile. "I—I don't?"

Mingyu narrowed his eyes.

Wonwoo, the absolute menace, just chuckled and leaned back, finally pulling his hand away.

"You should eat more, princess," he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear.

Your entire face burned.

And Mingyu? Oblivious.

For now.

Your voice was barely a whisper, heart pounding as you felt Wonwoo's breath against your ear.

"That's what makes it fun," he murmured, voice low, teasing.

This was dangerous. Reckless, even. But you couldn't stop yourself.

It started as a simple study session. Wonwoo had picked you up after hagwon, claiming he'd "help" you with your assignments.

Total bullshit.

Because now?

You were pressed up against the library bookshelf, the dim glow of the emergency exit light barely illuminating the mischief in his eyes.

Your breath hitched as his lips brushed over your jaw, slow, calculated. "You're so easy to mess with, princess."

You swallowed, trying to act indifferent, but your body betrayed you.

Because his hands were already on your waist, sneaking under your oversized hoodie, fingertips grazing your skin, making you shiver.

"Wonwoo," you warned, voice wobbly. "Someone might see—"

He kissed you.

Cut you off completely, swallowing any argument you might've had. It was deep, consuming, with just enough desperation to make your knees buckle.

And he knew.

He gripped your thighs, lifting you effortlessly, pressing you harder against the shelves. You gasped, wrapping your legs around his waist instinctively.

His lips traveled down to your neck, kissing, sucking—leaving marks in places only he would see.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly, earning a low groan from him.

"You're gonna be the death of me," he murmured against your skin, his voice sending heat straight to your core.

And then, his hand slipped under your skirt.

You gasped, back arching as he dragged his fingers along your soaked panties, teasing.

"Already wet for me?" he whispered, grinning when you squirmed in his grip.

"Wonwoo," you hissed.

"Shh," he hushed, lips finding yours again, muffling your soft whimpers. "Unless you want someone to catch us."

Fuck.

This was so, so wrong.

But god, it felt too good to stop.

His fingers moved against you, slow, deliberate, applying just enough pressure to make you tremble.

And then—

"Hello? Is someone there?"

A voice.

Somewhere in the library.

You froze.

Wonwoo, however?

He didn't stop.

His fingers kept moving, rubbing slow, lazy circles against your clothed heat.

"Wonwoo," you pleaded, voice barely a breath.

He just smirked.

The footsteps got closer.

Your heart pounded as Wonwoo kissed you again, swallowing your gasps as he slipped his fingers past the fabric, stroking your bare heat.

And then—

The footsteps faded.

Whoever it was, they were gone.

And you were falling apart in Wonwoo's arms.

He didn't stop until your body was trembling, until your head fell against his shoulder, until you were gripping onto his sweater like it was the only thing grounding you.

And then, finally, he pulled back.

He grinned, watching you struggle to catch your breath. His fingers—still wet from you—slid up your thigh, leaving a teasing trail.

"You were so loud, princess," he whispered against your ear. "I almost thought you wanted to get caught."

FUCK.

---

There were no fancy words, no grand declarations.

But when Wonwoo loved, he showed it in every little thing he did.

It was the way he kept your water bottle filled when you were too busy studying. The way he brought you warm meals when you forgot to eat. The way he let you borrow his headphones, knowing you liked his playlists better than yours.

Even now, as he sat in his gaming chair, his fingers absentmindedly traced circles on your bare thigh, pulling you closer onto his lap.

"You're too busy for me," you pouted, resting your chin on his shoulder as he adjusted his headset.

Wonwoo smirked, clicking a button on his keyboard. "I just spent two hours helping you study, princess. What do you mean?"

You huffed, nuzzling into his neck. "I mean, you're always playing games or working. I miss you."

His fingers paused on the keyboard.

A moment later, he let out a sigh and removed his headset, turning to face you.

"You're clingy," he teased, but the way his hands slid up your arms, the way his thumb brushed your cheek, said otherwise.

"You like it," you shot back.

He chuckled, pulling you in for a soft kiss. It was lazy, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world for you.

Maybe he did.

Because after that, he turned off his PC.

You blinked. "You're done?"

"Yeah." He stood, effortlessly carrying you to the bed. "I'd rather spend time with you."

Your heart melted.

"But your game—"

"It's just a game," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. "You're more important."

Fuck.

That did things to you.

You clung to him tighter, burying your face in his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Wonwoo wasn't the type to say 'I love you' a hundred times a day.

But he showed it. In the way he adjusted your blanket at night. In the way he massaged your shoulders after a long study session. In the way he never let you walk on the side of the road.

And in moments like this, where he'd drop everything just to hold you.

"You don't need anything but me, right?" he whispered against your hair, voice warm, teasing.

You smiled, pulling him closer.

"Right."

You were curled up on the couch, drowning in an oversized hoodie that—surprise, surprise—smelled like Wonwoo. The weight of your laptop sat in your lap, screen glowing with the absolute horror that was your unfinished assignment.

Two thousand words. Due tomorrow. You had written ten.

A dramatic sigh left your lips as you flopped onto the cushions, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to life.

Wonwoo, who had been watching you from his desk, barely glanced up from his monitor. "You're sulking."

"You're ignoring me," you shot back, hugging a pillow.

"I'm working," he replied, but there was a teasing lilt in his voice. "And you should be too."

You groaned into the fabric. "I can't. I have no motivation."

Finally, he turned his chair around, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he studied you. His dark eyes flickered with something unreadable—fond amusement, exasperation, love, all tangled into one.

"You're acting like a baby," he murmured, but the way he got up and walked toward you said otherwise.

And then—before you could process it—he was lifting your legs and settling himself between them, pulling you into his lap with ease.

"W-Wonwoo?" you stammered, hands instinctively gripping his shoulders.

"You don't have to ask, princess," he said, voice soft, low, knowing. "I already know what you need."

Your breath hitched.

And then his lips were on your forehead—one slow, lingering kiss.

Then another on your cheek.

Then your temple.

Then your nose.

The kind of kisses that weren't just physical, but something deeper. Like he was pouring everything he felt into them without saying a single word.

Your heart felt like it would burst.

"W-Wonwoo," you whispered again, but this time, it came out softer, more delicate.

"Mm?" He hummed, resting his chin on top of your head.

You swallowed. "You're distracting me."

He let out a soft chuckle. "Good."

You wanted to be mad, but how could you be?

Especially when he wrapped his arms around you tighter, rocking you slightly, like he was trying to comfort you without even realizing it.

Like you were his whole world.

---

Wonwoo didn't like extravagant gestures.

But spoiling you? That was different.

He'd do anything to make your life easier.

Which is why, when you walked into your apartment after a long day, you stopped in your tracks at the sight of takeout containers neatly placed on the table.

Your favorite food. From your favorite restaurant.

And beside them—a brand new necklace, delicate and subtle, but undeniably expensive.

You blinked.

"Wonwoo?"

From the couch, he looked up from his book. "Yeah?"

You pointed at the table. "What is this?"

"Food," he deadpanned. "And a gift."

You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms. "Why?"

He shrugged. "You had a long day."

Your heart faltered.

You took a slow step forward, staring at him. "Wonwoo, I told you not to keep buying me things."

"And I told you to stop acting like you don't love it," he murmured, flipping a page.

You huffed, but your face was already burning. "That's not the point!"

"You're so spoiled, you know that?" he said, tilting his head. "If I don't do this, you sulk."

"I do not."

"You do," he smirked, and before you could argue, he was standing up, taking slow steps toward you.

Your breath caught.

"You like being taken care of," he murmured, stopping just inches away. "And I like taking care of you."

Fuck.

Your pulse skyrocketed.

"Wonwoo," you whispered, and his hands slid up your arms, featherlight, teasing.

"Mm?"

"You're not being fair."

He leaned in, lips brushing your jaw, sending shivers down your spine.

"Neither are you," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

And just like that, you melted.

Wonwoo wasn't a morning person.

But when he woke up to the empty space beside him, his eyes narrowed instantly.

You were supposed to be asleep in his arms, tangled in his sheets, where he could keep you safe and warm.

Instead—

He blinked blearily, pushing the covers off. The faint glow from your laptop illuminated your silhouette, hunched over at the desk.

"Baby?" His voice was gravelly, hoarse from sleep.

You turned, blinking at him. "Did I wake you?"

Wonwoo ran a hand through his hair, eyes flickering between you and the glowing screen.

He didn't say anything. Just stood up, walked over, and gently closed your laptop.

You gasped. "Wonwoo, I need to finish—"

"Later," he murmured, voice low, commanding. Not angry, not strict. Just firm.

You opened your mouth to protest, but then—he was lifting you effortlessly, carrying you back to bed.

"W-Wait—"

"Shh," he whispered, tucking you back under the sheets before crawling in beside you.

Then his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his bare chest, his lips grazing your shoulder.

"Come back to bed," he murmured.

You shivered. "But—"

"You can finish in the morning," he whispered, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to your neck. "Just stay with me right now."

And really, how could you say no to that?

"You're exhausted. Just sleep, princess."

The dull ache in your shoulders was killing you.

It had been a long-ass day, and all you wanted to do was collapse.

But your laptop blinked back at you, merciless and taunting, deadlines creeping closer.

Wonwoo watched you silently from across the room, arms crossed, brows furrowed. You could feel his stare, heavy and knowing.

"You need to sleep," he finally murmured.

You didn't even look at him. "I'll sleep after this."

A beat of silence.

Then—before you could react—arms wrapped around you from behind, lifting you with ease.

"W-Wonwoo?! Put me down—!"

"No." Deadpan. Unbothered.

And just like that, you were in bed.

He pressed you into the pillows, throwing the blanket over you like tucking in a child.

"W-Wait—"

"You're exhausted," he muttered, climbing in beside you. "Just sleep, princess."

You tried to fight it. You really did.

But then—his arms tightened around you, his lips ghosted over your forehead, and his warmth melted into your body.

And suddenly... your eyelids were too heavy to keep open.

Damn him.

"Give me your bag, princess."

College was draining you.

You had just finished a three-hour lecture, your brain barely functioning, your bag heavy as hell.

And then—there he was.

Waiting outside, tall and gorgeous in a black hoodie and sweats, hands in his pockets, eyes softening the second he saw you.

Wonwoo, your personal chauffeur.

You sighed in relief, grateful for his presence alone.

Until—he took one look at your slouched shoulders and frowned.

"Give me your bag."

You blinked. "Huh?"

He nodded at your shoulder. "Your bag. Give it."

You clutched it instinctively. "It's not that heavy—"

Wonwoo didn't even let you finish.

He gently pried it from your grip, slinging it over his own shoulder like it weighed nothing.

"Wonwoo—"

"You looked tired, princess," he murmured, taking your hand. "Let me take care of you."

Your heart skipped a beat.

...Yeah. You weren't arguing with that.

"Sit still, princess. Let me take care of you."

You sighed in bliss, eyes fluttering shut as Wonwoo's fingers worked through your damp hair, massaging your scalp.

God, he was good at this.

His touch was gentle, slow, firm—soothing every little knot of tension you didn't even know you had.

"You're going to fall asleep," he murmured, amused.

"Mm," you hummed, barely awake, tilting your head into his hands.

He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. "You're so easy to please."

You smiled, eyes still closed. "Only when it's you."

Wonwoo paused.

And then—you felt his lips on your neck, slow and deliberate, his voice dropping into that low, teasing drawl.

"I like the way that sounds, princess."

Shit.

Suddenly, you weren't sleepy anymore.

"Stop looking at me like that, princess, or I'll take you right here."

Wonwoo knew what he was doing.

The man had zero shame when it came to making you blush, and he thrived off of it.

Which is why—when you were in the middle of a crowded restaurant, surrounded by people—he had the audacity to run his hands up your thighs under the table.

Your breath hitched.

"W-Wonwoo—"

He smirked, taking a casual sip of his drink. "Something wrong, princess?"

You shot him a glare, but your face was burning.

"I hate you," you muttered under your breath.

"Liar," he whispered back, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles on your skin.

You gulped, shifting in your seat. "We're in public."

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear.

"Stop looking at me like that, princess," he murmured, voice deep, teasing. "Or I'll take you right here."

Your breath caught.

And the worst part? You knew he meant it.

"I missed you, princess."

The night was quiet, the air cool, the city lights glowing softly through the window.

Wonwoo had been away for a few days—a work trip, nothing major—but God, you had missed him.

And apparently—he had missed you too.

Because the second he got back, he grabbed you by the waist, pulled you into his lap, and buried his face in your neck.

"You good?" you laughed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

He didn't answer.

Just... held you.

Long. Deep. Like he was soaking in your warmth, grounding himself in your presence.

And then, after a few moments—he whispered against your skin, voice low, hoarse.

"I missed you, princess."

Your heart melted.

You pressed a kiss to his temple. "I missed you too."

His arms tightened around you.

"I know."

"Stay close to me, princess."

Crowds were overwhelming.

Wonwoo didn't care about them much—he was good at blending into the background, unbothered.

But you? You were a whole different story. One talk with a stranger, you'd be friends with them almost too immediately.

Which is why—his arm was always around your waist, keeping you pressed firmly against him.

"Wonwoo, I can walk by myself, you know," you teased, looking up at him.

He just hummed, pulling you closer. "I know."

You rolled your eyes, but secretly?

You loved it.

Because as long as he was there, holding you like this, you never had to worry.

Not about getting lost.

Not about anything.

The night was warm, suffocating with tension, electric with something neither of you could fight.

It started innocent enough.

A late-night drive. The city lights flashing past. His hand on your thigh, firm, possessive, always touching.

You had been teasing him all night. Unintentionally, of course.

Or maybe not.

Because when you leaned in, whispered something soft, something sweet—

He snapped.

Before you could react, he pulled into a secluded parking lot, turned off the engine, and turned to you with dark, burning eyes.

"Out," he ordered, voice low, rough.

Your breath hitched. "Wonwoo—"

"Now, princess."

You gulped. Obeyed.

The second you stepped outside, he was on you.

He pinned you against the car, one hand in your hair, the other gripping your waist, his lips crashing into yours—hot, desperate, consuming.

"You drive me insane," he growled against your mouth, pressing his body against yours, forcing you to feel just how much you affected him.

Your fingers curled into his hoodie, tugging him closer, chasing his warmth, his touch, his everything.

"I need you," you breathed, and that was all it took.

The world disappeared.

Nothing existed except him—the way his hands roamed your body, the way his lips marked your skin, the way he whispered, 'Mine. All mine.'

And when he finally—finally—gave you what you both needed, it wasn't just lust.

It was love.

Raw. Overwhelming. Unshakable.

And as he held you close, forehead pressed to yours, breath uneven but laced with affection—

You knew.

You would never belong to anyone else.

And neither would he.

Your back hit the cool metal of the car. Wonwoo's body pressed against yours, solid, burning, intoxicating.

"You've been teasing me all night," he murmured, trailing kisses down your jaw, his breath hot against your skin.

Your lips parted, a shaky breath escaping when his hands slipped under your dress, fingers skimming up your thighs.

"I wasn't teasing," you whispered, but your voice betrayed you.

Wonwoo chuckled darkly. "Liar."

His fingers dipped between your legs, pressing against the heat that had been building all night.

You squirmed, gripping his hoodie, your body arching into his touch.

"Wonwoo—"

He swallowed your plea with a kiss, deep and desperate, his tongue sliding against yours, stealing every thought from your head.

"Tell me how much you want me."

Your breath hitched as he pushed your panties aside, his fingers stroking slow, deliberate circles that made your knees buckle.

"I—" You gasped, gripping his shoulders. "I want you. Please."

That was all he needed.

With one swift movement, he spun you around, pressing your front against the car, his hands exploring, teasing, making you beg.

"You love being touched like this, don't you?" he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Needy little thing."

You could barely breathe, let alone answer.

And when he finally—filled you, stretching you with a slow, deep thrust—

You shattered.

Your nails scraped against the car's surface, your moans mixing with the night air, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

Wonwoo didn't stop.

Didn't slow down.

Didn't let you come down from the high before pulling you back against his chest, one hand gripping your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

"Open your mouth," he murmured.

You obeyed without thinking—and he kissed you, deep and messy, swallowing your moans as he drove you to the edge again.

"Mine."

His voice was a growl, his arms tightening around you, his thrusts turning erratic, desperate.

And when you finally fell apart with him, gasping, trembling, completely undone—

He didn't let you go.

He held you close, pressed kisses against your skin, whispered against your lips—

"I love you."

And for the first time, you realized—this wasn't just desire.

This was obsession.

This was forever.

The night was warm, suffocating with tension, electric with something neither of you could fight.

It started innocent enough.

A late-night drive. The city lights flashing past. His hand on your thigh, firm, possessive, always touching.

You had been teasing him all night. Unintentionally, of course.

Or maybe not.

Because when you leaned in, whispered something soft, something sweet—

He snapped.

Before you could react, he pulled into a secluded parking lot, turned off the engine, and turned to you with dark, burning eyes.

"Out," he ordered, voice low, rough.

Your breath hitched. "Wonwoo—"

"Now, princess."

You gulped. Obeyed.

The second you stepped outside, he was on you.

He pinned you against the car, one hand in your hair, the other gripping your waist, his lips crashing into yours—hot, desperate, consuming.

"You drive me insane," he growled against your mouth, pressing his body against yours, forcing you to feel just how much you affected him.

Your fingers curled into his hoodie, tugging him closer, chasing his warmth, his touch, his everything.

"I need you," you breathed, and that was all it took.

The world disappeared.

Nothing existed except him—the way his hands roamed your body, the way his lips marked your skin, the way he whispered, 'Mine. All mine.'

And when he finally—finally—gave you what you both needed, it wasn't just lust.

It was love.

Raw. Overwhelming. Unshakable.

And as he held you close, forehead pressed to yours, breath uneven but laced with affection—

You knew.

You would never belong to anyone else.

And neither would he.

Your back hit the cool metal of the car. Wonwoo's body pressed against yours, solid, burning, intoxicating.

"You've been teasing me all night," he murmured, trailing kisses down your jaw, his breath hot against your skin.

Your lips parted, a shaky breath escaping when his hands slipped under your dress, fingers skimming up your thighs.

"I wasn't teasing," you whispered, but your voice betrayed you.

Wonwoo chuckled darkly. "Liar."

His fingers dipped between your legs, pressing against the heat that had been building all night.

You squirmed, gripping his hoodie, your body arching into his touch.

"Wonwoo—"

He swallowed your plea with a kiss, deep and desperate, his tongue sliding against yours, stealing every thought from your head.

"Tell me how much you want me."

Your breath hitched as he pushed your panties aside, his fingers stroking slow, deliberate circles that made your knees buckle.

"I—" You gasped, gripping his shoulders. "I want you. Please."

That was all he needed.

With one swift movement, he spun you around, pressing your front against the car, his hands exploring, teasing, making you beg.

"You love being touched like this, don't you?" he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Needy little thing."

You could barely breathe, let alone answer.

And when he finally—filled you, stretching you with a slow, deep thrust—

You shattered.

Your nails scraped against the car's surface, your moans mixing with the night air, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

Wonwoo didn't stop.

Didn't slow down.

Didn't let you come down from the high before pulling you back against his chest, one hand gripping your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

"Open your mouth," he murmured.

You obeyed without thinking—and he kissed you, deep and messy, swallowing your moans as he drove you to the edge again.

"Mine."

His voice was a growl, his arms tightening around you, his thrusts turning erratic, desperate.

And when you finally fell apart with him, gasping, trembling, completely undone—

He didn't let you go.

He held you close, pressed kisses against your skin, whispered against your lips—

"I love you."

And for the first time, you realized—this wasn't just desire.

This was obsession.

This was forever.

a/n: aeya here ! BELATED HAPPY VALENTINE'S EVERYONE ! i hoped y'all like this because if you did, i already have the part two ready. it's march, and i hope this fanfiction will make up for the long stop i've been. i'm back to being a stranger ig, but hey, count this as a celebration for my 500+ followers. i love yall sm please never stop expressing yourselves from supporting me. also, I PROMISE i will eventually get to y'alls reqs because i love yall too much mwuahhh

[lolitalovess]

Behind closed doors.

sum: arranged marriage caitlyn kiramman x reader

warnings: this is short but i put my whole pussy into it, reader lowkey has issues, my girl cait does aswell, hardly proofread, INSANE lesbian yearning

you've always appreciated the way the kiramman manor looks at night, after the sun has lulled itself to sleep in orange hues and the moon is reborn - surrounded by black inc and a thousand stars visible through the large windows of you and your shared wife's room, the night-life of piltover with tall buildings and bright lights shown to your tired eyes from linen curtains pulled back.

it distracted you from how your back grew sore from your position of sitting against the headboard, and why you were here in the first place. you gazed down at your resting wife - she's gorgeous, with prussian blue hair fanning over her pillow and framing her face. you're jealous of her peace in her deep state of unconscious sleep the way her comforter is tucked to her chest and the way it rises and falls with every passing breath.

you had been sitting with your busy thoughts for far too long, you could hardly handle yourself anymore. you've never understood the purpose of getting married ever since you first learnt the term as a young girl. to know someone for a few years and finally like them enough to buy expensive rings and voice vowels to one another, which, most of the time, are bullshit.

but caitlyn kiramman, a woman full of so much dark blue woe and sorrow had just taken your heart, and it felt like a sin. was it? to find your arranged wife attractive, to yearn for her love, despite never showing affection or doing anything remotely intimate. it felt like it was.

the area surrounding you consisted of deafening silence like before, though you could swear that the dark shadows of the manor could morth into tall figurines watching you, especially the one heading toward you. you feel a wave of hotness manufactured out of pure anxiety travel through your body until you see azure blue eyes looking into yours with confusion and longing for your warmth next to hers in bed.

"i couldn't sleep." you speak quickly, voice soft in attempt to not ruin her peace. "go back to bed. it's too cold out here for you to just be wearing that robe."

she leaned her hip against the counter next to you, reaching her arms out for you as quickly as you started talking. it was almost like a hug, with her hands interlocking with eachother around your torso from the side, a small frown playing her lips while she studied the side of your face.

“can’t sleep or won’t sleep?” she asked softly, her accent slipping. she knew what it was like being up all night, in her own terms, alone with her thoughts in the empty felt rooms of the precinct. "go back to bed." you repeated, tilting your head to the side to rest it against her chest, which had her instinctively squeezing around her hands around your waist tighter to support you, enjoying the sight and feel of your body against hers. her hands on you would have you feeling like you were on fire if you weren't so tired. "i'll sleep in one of the guests."

it was a rare thing for the two of you to be physical, as much as it always bothered caitlyn how you would never stay close to her unless you needed something, felt unsafe, or was cold. otherwise, they would never touch, as much as your souls yearned for it. "nonsense," she spoke, her hands rubbing gentle circles against your side before speaking again, her deep voice soft and tender, not wanting to wake anyone up, or disturb her wife.

"sleep in the bed with me tonight. it'll be warmer." she added, taking a small step back as if it the action alone would convince you. the weight of your body being tugged along with her ever so slightly and gently had you focused on following her warmth and familiar smell of vanilla and lavender rather than pulling away.

the two of you stood in silence for a few minutes that felt like hours, the quiet beat of her heartbeat present in your ears whilst you felt sleep threatening to take over your conciousness. you knew you could fall asleep like this if you let yourself. "okay."

she was gently tugging you along with her out of the kitchen and back into the bedroom the moment you agreed, where the moonlight filtered through the slightly parted curtains that exposed the view from outside of the city, it was beautiful, even at night. the door was pushed open slowly and closed behind the two of you just as quickly, her feet taking herself to sit down on the edge of her familiar bed, swinging her long legs up and over to get completely on the bed once more. “come here,” she softly spoke as she patted the space next to her.

you complied at the soft demand from your wife, beginning to walk over to the bed opposite side of the bed, the silk covers pulled over your legs and to your waist after you settled. you felt the comforting action of sleep clouding your mind like every other night, the familiar feel of your jade wedding ring cold around your finger.

maybe caitlyn wasn't so bad.

the lesbian yearning goes crazyy... not gonna lie this concept has been in my drafts for AWHILE and i really enjoyed writing something that wasn't vi and smut for once 😭 might do another part to this, lmk what you think and want ♡

[nottivagos]

(It's been a while since I did one of these, hasn't it?) Hello, welcome to Notti's "Not So Innocent" Notebook where I write some filth to make your Monday a little bit better! | 18+ mdni pls and ty

an: so i am a huge advocate for the submissive charles agenda, and the new partnership photos have me feral. i've been wanting to write charles in a mafia setting for a WHILEEEE now, and i thought, why not bring him alive now? (need a song to soundtrack whilst reading? listen to this!)

“Do you deserve me after that stunt you played today, Charles?” The question hung heavy in the air as your stiletto heel rested against his forehead, your leg acting as a barrier between you and your needy lover.

Charles gulped whilst on his knees, trying to crawl over to you helplessly. Your intense eyes fixed onto his face, hyper analysing every subtle change in his facial expression. The intensity of your cold eyes on his own wide ones made the expensive suit he was wearing suffocating. He’d seen that look in your eyes before, as the same shiver crawled down his spine whilst blood rushed with overwhelming excitement to his already quickly hardening length.

“Well?” The question was rougher, more demanding as it held a bit of grit behind clenched teeth. Impatient, even. Charles bit his lip in hesitation, his palms resting against the expensive rug below him became clammy as his ears pricked hot with the invasion of embarrassment mixed with burning arousal, which then made his cheeks flush a dark crimson and his chest tighten whilst he stayed in his place, in the large suite looking out onto the vast harbour of Monaco. 

“Ma chérie,” he mustered meekly, throat dry as emotions surged around his body, a pool of fire churning in his stomach whilst his green eyes slowly met your unwavering gaze, locking onto you like a strong, pulling magnetic force. 

“I-I can explain,” Charles stammered, croaking pathetically as he fought the growing desert in his mouth, “please, amour. Let me come closer.”

The plea made you snort in amusement, lips forming into a torturous smirk as you applied more pressure onto Charles’s forehead, flexing your leg straight and pushing him away in response, which allowed a small whimper to leave the man’s lips.

“No.” You responded simply, arms crossed over your chest unamused. “You don’t deserve to after today,” you added, observing his wide eyes and flushed expression.

The stubbornness broke Charles. He revelled in your disinterest you were showing in the moment, and the strong-willed personality you’d got, drowning in the small ways you were hardened in your approaches to matters whilst being undermined by men who thought you were in a field not made for women to play in. 

After a moment of ogling, you caught his hardly subtle glance in between your legs, as you watched them sparkle in realisation that you weren’t wearing any panties underneath the lavish silk of your evening dress that draped lazily over your curves in intoxicating ways. The sight was even more thrilling for Charles, as he yearned to come closer, just to have the privilege of touching your bare pussy, which glistened on display.

“Ma beauté,” Charles groaned in response, as he watched you adjust yourself whilst also sitting on the floor, wiggling your ass so you could spread your thighs slightly outwards more. “Oh, lord,” he breathed out, his breathing hitched at the sight, mouth slightly agape before his eyes fixated onto yours, the eye contact a silent yearn for you to give in.

“Do you want to touch me, is that it, Charles?” You purred out, head tilting to the side as a wolfish grin formed broadly across your face, fire burning behind your eyes. “You're giving me that look again,” you added, making Charles freeze upon impact of the sultry syllables leaving your lips.

“Hmm, that's what I thought,” you mumbled lowly, eyes fixated on his slight changes of expression, before slowly moving your leg away from his face, down onto the floor with such smooth grace. “Come here,” you ordered sweetly with a swift movement of your finger.

In that moment, a spark let off in Charles’s mind, as if he was short-circuited to follow your every command. He crawled over to the other side of the room towards you, situating himself in between your legs, as you lured him in with that sickeningly beautiful smirk you always had when he followed your instructions ever so easily with no question asked.

“That's better,” you giggled softly, content due to his submission, hands coming to grasp and tug at the lapels of his suit’s blazer. Charles’s eyes stayed glued on your own eyes as they sparkled with glee, hiding the simmering irritation of what had unfolded during the evening underneath.

“Now,” you began, nose grazing his own as you pressed yourself into his front, “Why don't you tell me what you were doing with that lady, hm?” You asked, your voice dropping a dangerous octave lower.

Charles froze again. The woman that was speaking to him at the party flashed before him. He recalled the way she flirted with him, the way her voice murmured dirty nothings into his ear, touching his arm ever too friendly as he had tried to get you a drink from the lavish event's bar.

“She— I wasn't doing anything,” he protested with wide eyes, his hot breaths coming in pants as they blasted across your face.

“Sure you weren't,” you scoffed, unamused. “Do you think I'm stupid, Charles?” The question was as sharp as a stab through Charles’s heart, cutting deep with no mercy.

Before Charles could protest, you pressed a finger to his lips, shushing him. “Don't talk,” you whispered, soft eyes glossing over his facial features. Your spare hand came to wrap around his tie still around his collar, tugging him closer to you. “You're mine. You know that don't you, Charles?” You murmured into his ear, the words pooling so smoothly like honey, “always mine, too. Only allowed to be pretty for me.”

Charles’s breath hitched again, catching in his throat. Blush burnt furiously into his cheeks now as his mind became hazy from your possessiveness, the words like a drug, as all the excitement surged through his veins, reaching to his now hardened cock, sadly confined in his dress pants.

“Tell me that you're mine, Charles.” You commanded, lips dangerously close to his own as he felt your hot breath fanning across his parted lips. “And then maybe I'll kiss you.”

“I'm yours, mon cœur,” he replied, “always yours.”

“Good boy,” you praised with a smug smile, pulling his tie as your lips crashed against his own. A pathetic moan from Charles died in your mouth, as your tongue fought for dominance whilst you kissed him with such passion, possession resurfacing as your hands came to claw through his curls, scraping his scalp as you kissed feverishly.

His clothed erection rubbed against your bare cunt as you continued to make out, a small whimper leaving your lips in response. Hot, open-mouthed kisses followed as you trailed your lips across his jaw and torturously slowly down his neck, nipping and sucking at the flesh whenever you pleased, causing goosebumps to form in their wake.

Charles groaned hopelessly, the fact that your bites would leave bruises all over his neck drove him crazy as you continued with your barrage of nips, sucks and swipes of tongue over the sensitive skin. “So good for me,” you mumbled against his skin, teeth piercing it slightly, “can't wait to see these bruises tomorrow.”

He continued to rut against your now weeping cunt, clothed cock angrily hard against the hole as his hips stuttered with their movements. Your hands gripped onto his shoulders, nails digging into the clothing as he dry humped you with increasing passion.

“That's it, Charles,” you breathlessly praised into his ear, your throat becoming dry and raspy in the process. “Just like that, you're doing a great job.”

The praises drove Charles forward as your lips locked together again, if so, even more passionately. Your hands moved from his shoulders to his cheeks, cupping his face as you kissed him with an increasing intensity of passion and lust. Tongues swirled over each other whilst wanton moans echoed around the large suite, but you two were uncaring as Charles chased his imminent release desperately.

The coil in Charles’s burning belly snapped quickly— almost instantly, even. He groaned loudly as cum shot out of his cock, the cloth of his underwear serving as a barrier between him and your slick hole, the sticky sensation and uncomfortable feeling in his boxers as his cock softened brought him back to reality as you looked up at him, eyes half-lidded and panting.

“That…” you began, trying to collect your breath as you heaved slightly, the apples of your cheeks scorching with a crimson blush, “was amazing. Fuck, Charles, you were so good.” You praised again, peppering his face in chaste kisses.

“Does this mean that we're good now, mon trésor?” Charles asked between kisses, kissing back with the same affection. “Trust me, I wasn't doing anything with her—”

“I trust you, Charles,” you whispered gently, brushing your thumb against the apple of his cheek. “Now let me come and fuck you properly. I think it's only right of me to do so,” you giggled, hands lovingly coming to his shirt’s buttons, fumbling with them as you tried to strip Charles as fast as you could, ready for a night of affectionate love making. <3

[solxamber]

Ace, Romantic, (Orion Shining Above The Skies At Noon by Bank of Innovation) pls pls pls

specifically because i like poking at the line between friends and lovers and seeing where it will give way

i might send another rq for valentines thxxxx

"You're undeniably just mesmerizing" || Ace Trappola

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧��: Orion Shining Above the Skies at Noon by Bank of Innovation

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 570

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Pining, Lovesick Ace

Ace Trappola isn’t the kind of guy who spends too much time thinking about things he can’t control. He rolls with the punches, plays the cards he’s dealt, and never lingers too long on things that probably won’t go his way.

But you?

You make it impossible not to think.

He wonders—have I found the signs of finally enchanting you? Have there been moments, little flickers of something more, hidden between shared laughter and teasing words?

Is it in the way you lean closer when you talk, the way your hand brushes against his just a second longer than it needs to? When you look at him, do you see him the way he sees you—or is he just getting ahead of himself, mistaking your warmth for something deeper?

Because, really, how in the world would a person like you fall for someone like him?

The thought gnaws at him late at night, in the quiet moments when he’s not filling the air with sarcasm and quick-witted remarks. It’s stupid, really. He shouldn’t care so much.

And yet.

He wants to believe.

He clings to the hope that maybe, just maybe, he’s made a mark on you. That when you see him, you think of him as more than just a friend, more than just some guy who’s always by your side, laughing at your jokes, bumping shoulders with you like it’s second nature.

That maybe, in the same way you’ve become the center of his thoughts, he’s carved out a little space in yours too.

But what if he’s wrong?

What if he’s just fooling himself, stuck in another illusion, blinded by his own delusions?

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s bet on a long shot. But this? This isn’t some game where he can bluff his way through, not when the stakes are so high.

So he does what he does best—he keeps it cool. He plays it safe. If you never notice, if you never catch on, then he won’t have to deal with the fallout of wanting something he can’t have.

And yet, despite himself, he can’t stop.

He won’t stop himself from yearning for this charming fantasy, the idea that maybe, against all odds, you and he could actually be something real.

Maybe it’s a foolish dream, like seeing Orion shining above the skies at noon—something impossible, something that shouldn’t exist.

But impossible things happen every day, don’t they?

And if there’s even the slightest chance that this could be real, that you might feel the same way—Ace is willing to risk looking like an idiot for it.

Even if it means getting his heart broken. Even if it means facing a reality he doesn’t want to accept.

Because at the end of the day, he’d rather have tried than spend the rest of his life wondering what if.

So when you’re standing close, looking at him in that way that makes his heart stutter, he makes his move before he can think better of it. He leans in, tilting his head just slightly, his breath warm against yours—

And you don’t pull away.

For a split second, the world around him disappears. It’s just you, just this, just the impossible feeling of something he never thought he’d have.

And in that moment, he swears—

He sees Orion shining above the skies at noon.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[hades-in-bloom]

On Nights Like These

Vergil Sparda x Reader

summary: after running away night after night, Vergil finally forgets to leave.

warnings & contents: fluff with a teeny-tiny assumption of spice happening behind the scenes; seriously, mostly cuddling; Vergil is—well—vergiling (this man be blessed); turned out more poetic than I thought it would; could be age gap, could be none; the reader could be any gender; emotionally mature reader though; no mentions of y/n

a/n: h-hi! It’s been a while. I got myself into writing an actual book, so that’s been happening (aside from other life stuff). In the meantime this silly man has been making me lose my mind, so I had to come back, even for a blurb. As always, proceed at your own risk. Love y’all. Minors DNI! Masterlist xoxo

***

Vergil never stays the night.

He’s already irritated enough for that he feels compelled to come over again. The long-buried sensation of another's touch sends his mind into a frenzy; at first, he resents it, feeling as though he’s losing control. It gnaws at him from within, breaking through the iron-clad defences he’s built for himself since he was a kid.

He’s a survivor, and then he’s the Alpha and the Omega. He was there at the beginning, and he will be there at the end, no matter the cost.

He’s so accustomed to being haunted for decades, whether it’s his past or ambitions, so when you offer him a safe haven in your embrace, his brain short-circuits. It feels both wrong and sweet, like forbidden fruit. He’s been alone for so long, consumed by his feral pursuit of power, so the only true horror for him is the one of depending on anyone but himself. He knows that your touch could shatter every belief he clings to, yet he reaches for it anyway, surrendering to the overwhelming urge to connect and explore.

On nights like these, he lies beside you, a mix of vulnerability and yearning in his eyes, resorting to desperate measures to reclaim his power when all else feels futile.

On nights like these, his touch is rough and demanding—his way of asserting control over you when he feels utterly powerless. He’s lost and frustrated, and it shows in every movement, in the way he touches you, worships you, and uses you.

You are weak—in his eyes, just a human with all the needs and desires he has tried to cast aside over the years. He’s better than that. He’s better than you.

Yet while he sees you as weak, in his eyes, you are far from powerless. The influence you have over him drives him mad, and time and again, he succumbs while punishing you both for the vulnerabilities you share.

On nights like these, he takes so much from you, but it doesn’t bother you—he gives in return plenty.

And then, on nights like these, he runs. As soon as you fall asleep, he slips away, leaving you to awaken in an empty bed. You never know when he’ll return, yet deep down, you know he will—sooner or later.

Until, on one of those nights, he forgets to leave at all. When you wake at dawn, his head rests on your chest, and his breathing is steady and calm. One of his arms curls around your waist, and in that moment, he looks almost angelic despite his demon blood. It makes you uneasy; you’ve never seen him so trusting before. For a brief second, it’s your mind that is plagued with the thought of running.

He shifts in his slumber, as if your thoughts of abandoning him have disturbed his nightmares. A frown creases his brow as he barely opens his eyes. Then his eyes widen in fear as he realises what he's done.

He’s succumbed. He always knew you would be his ruin, and now it has happened—tonight.

Tonight, you gently brush your fingers through his hair, keeping his head resting on your chest. Tonight, no one is running away.

“Sleep, Vergil,” you whisper. It’s not an ask—an order. A clear-cut command despite your gentle touch and voice. A faint smile graces your lips as you close your eyes, drifting back into blissful dream of your own.

“I won’t tell anyone,” you give him a promise.

He scoffs, but chooses not to protest as he closes his eyes once more. Tonight, he’s weary from running; tonight, he succumbs.

[fellominaarcher]

About You - yearning!winter x fem!reader

2. December 18th

chapters || previous || next

Two days later, the hum of the ER was constant but far from chaotic. Dr. Minjeong Kim sat at a small workstation, glasses perched on her nose as she typed notes into a patient file. Her fingers moved with the muscle memory of someone who had done this a thousand times before, but her thoughts wandered.

The sound of laughter pulled her attention. Two nurses stood near the nurse's station, leaning slightly against the counter as they exchanged whispered words and conspiratorial smiles. Minjeong, curious, saved her work and stood, tucking a pen into the pocket of her lab coat.

“What’s so funny?” she asked as she approached, her tone light and teasing.

The nurses glanced at each other, a touch of embarrassment crossing their faces before one finally admitted, “We’re making bets about which doctors will end up working overtime on Christmas this year. Your name’s on the list.” Both of the nurses looked over at the beautiful surgeon standing before them.

Minjeong chuckled, a low, genuine sound that softened the lines of her face. She nodded, arms crossing as she leaned slightly against the counter. “Well, I don’t mind being the subject of your bets. Just make sure I get a cut if I win.” Minjeong stated her wish for the bet.

The nurses laughed, and Minjeong smirked before turning away. Her gaze fell on the corner of the ER, where a Christmas tree now stood, its branches draped with tinsel. Warm yellow lights twinkled softly, casting a gentle glow on the sterile walls.

Her eyes widened slightly as the realization hit her: Christmas was only a week away. She blinked, momentarily stunned. Time had slipped through her fingers, the endless string of surgeries and patient rounds erasing her sense of days.

Later that evening, Minjeong sat in her car, the cold biting at her through the windows. The engine rumbled faintly, warming up slowly. She leaned back in the driver’s seat, the screen of her phone glowing in the dim light.

Her finger hovered over her message app before opening it. The undelivered texts stared back at her, mocking her in their silence:

“Wish you were here.”

“You’d laugh at how ridiculous the ER decorations are this year.”

“I miss you.”

Minjeong stared at them, her chest tightening as the familiar ache resurfaced. Every December since that day, it was all she could think about. As someone who once adored Christmas—the lights, the music, the warmth—it felt like a betrayal to her own joy. Now the holiday was a conflict, a mirror of loss and love colliding.

"Do you think I have forgotten about you?"

The feeling surfaced again, lingering in her mind like a ghost she couldn’t banish.

Back home, the routine was the same. The apartment greeted her with its quiet warmth. She changed into her long black shirt and plaid sweatpants, the same soft armor against the cold and loneliness.

This time, she added cookies to her nightly ritual, biting into one as she leaned against the kitchen counter. The taste of chocolate chips was faintly sweet, but it did little to chase away the bitterness in her chest.

The Christmas tree still stood undecorated in the corner of her living room. Minjeong glanced at it, her lips tightening. Part of her wanted to leave it bare, let it stand as a symbol of how she felt. But another part—the part of her that still clung to who she used to be—wanted to cover it in lights and ornaments, to reclaim even a sliver of what she had lost.

Her gaze flicked back to her phone, resting on the coffee table. The texts were still there, waiting. But the courage to send them wasn’t.

Minjeong sighed, sinking into the couch with a blanket and another cookie. The city lights danced on her walls again, their restless rhythm at odds with her stillness. December would always be like this—a season she loved and hated, a month of conflicting memories that refused to let her rest.

Half an hour later, she was curled up on the couch, feet tucked under her as she scrolled through her phone. Her fingers idly navigated to the Facebook page of her med school. A new post caught her attention—graduation pictures.

She clicked.

Swipe. Students in black gowns, grinning with their certificates.

Swipe. A younger class beaming under the weight of their hard-earned degrees.

She smiled softly, nostalgia tugging at her.

“Oh, this is cute…” she murmured, eyes crinkling at the memories of her own med school days.

Swipe.

And then—

Her breath hitched.

A photo of her and Y/N.

Peace hand signs. Graduation caps. Certificates. Her arm draped over Y/N’s shoulder, their faces alight with the thrill of stepping into their futures.

Minjeong let out a soft sigh, her smile faltering. “Why…” she whispered, barely audible, “the moment I want to forget you the most, I end up remembering you all over again, Y/N?”

Her thumb hovered over the three dots in the corner of the screen.

[Save to device.]

She tapped it. She shouldn’t have. But she did.

Some memories felt as fresh as yesterday. Others felt like echoes of another life, one that begged to stay buried. She was 33 now. She had been 25 when she graduated. Y/N, 27. It wasn’t that long ago.

Yet, it was.

Minjeong leaned her head against the couch, staring at the Christmas tree that remained undecorated in the corner. She then turned to the window, watching the city that never slept, even at midnight.

New York kept moving. But tonight, she felt stuck in the past.

[dreamerdrop]

Could you tell us more about the WIP called Zebras?

Zebras is an episode related little what if based on If Wishes Were Horses, wherein Julian falls asleep reading medical notes about Bajoran war orphans and finds himself dreaming about his own childhood, and thus wakes up to a small imaginary version of himself pre-augmentation.

I need to rewrite the bulk of it, but here’s a snippet from the ending without any further context.

Julian doesn't really want to be around people, but he does want to drink until he blacks out, so he finds himself sitting in a corner at Quarks, tossing back synthehol like his life depends on it, when Jadzia approaches him, looking uncomfortable.

“You know... What I meant was, does this mean you have a secret yearning to be a father,” Jadzia says softly, almost whispering so that nobody else will hear. “I was… trying to joke about you maybe having a pregnancy fetish or something, and… maybe that was why you liked the idea that I already had a worm in my belly…?” she sits across from him, her smile is very contrite.

Julian grimaces. Of course, that had been what she was trying to joke about... Leave it to Jadzia to phrase it in the most awkward way possible, and for Julian to interpret it as incorrectly as imaginable.

They really did make quite a pair.

“So… who was he?” she asks, and Julian had so very much been dreading when that question would finally come up. His throat feels dry.

“He was… a friend. I knew him a long time ago…” he finds himself staring into the middle distance, several memories playing through his mind.

“What happened?”

Julian breathes slowly, trying not to get lost in the flood of thoughts and emotions that he feels like he might as well be drowning in.

“He died. He was... He was sick. His parents, they… it was difficult for them. Looking after him, because he was… they… they wanted to help him, to fix him, to make him…” Julian chokes on the words, crying. His face heats with shame.

“He was stupid. He was stupid, and annoying, and nobody liked him, and his parents…” he doesn't mean the words at all. He’s not sure where they’re coming from, but he can’t seem to stop them. Jadzia is looking at him in almost horror.

“They took him away to fix him, but… he didn't come back. I think... I think his parents were happier without him,” he says quietly. Jadzia shakes her head, opening her mouth to protest.

“They were. They had another child. I heard… I heard them telling their new child how much better he was. How much smarter, and easier to handle he was. They… I… They didn’t miss him at all…”

Jadzia isn’t stupid. Julian knows she can tell there’s more to this than he’s willing to admit. Julian knows he’s giving away too much. He knows he’ll regret this one day. Right now, the image of watching Jules die all over again is fresh in his mind.

“Sometimes, I think… I might be the only one who misses him at all.”

Jadzia reaches a hand out and squeezes his shoulder. She lifts her own glass and clinks it against Julian’s.

“We can miss him together, at least for tonight,” she says.

The burn of synthehol doesn’t warm him as much as the genuine kindness in Jadzia’s eyes, nor does it sting as much as the still-present pity.

He supposes that one day, she’ll look at him normally again, but just for tonight… he’s grateful that someone else can feel sorry for Jules. He’s glad he won’t be the only one to miss him anymore.

END.

I’m not quite sure what to do with the rest of it in the lead up to that yet though, since I’ve been puzzling over the character voices for a while for this… I think I’ve got Julian being too much of a jerk and being sort of too… idk, softboy-ish? Rather than like… himself. And I think it makes zero sense for me not to have Sisko and Miles more involved as well, since y’know, they’re both parents and here is Julian with a tiny kid.

Anyway, it’s been a WIP since maybe November last year and I come back to it occasionally and hopefully one day I will finish it. Hopefully. Maybe. We’ll see!

[tgrailwar-zero]

*quietly* the water's really nice, isn't it..?

After speaking, he looked in your direction. This was the first time your presence was directly acknowledged.

LANCELOT: "…"

He returned to staring out over the water.

It'd be a lie to call him calm, as much as it was… 'not actively aggressive'. There was a tension in his body that never dropped, like a tightly coiled spring. A sort of 'battle readiness'. You'd seen RICHARD in a similar state when you prepared to fight that giant automaton, but he could turn it 'off'. This was a constant state of 'on'.

He didn't take it.

Seconds dragged on into minutes, minutes into what felt like the better part of an hour. Silence. Quiet. Staring into the deep, blue darkness. Like a statue, the knight gazed into the seemingly endless azure with a look that seemed hollow, but you caught just a hint of… something. Listlessness? Yearning? Somberness?

A 'something'.

Finally, he shifted.

He stood up, and without a word vanished into his spirit form, leaving you alone.

…You weren't sure if that was progress or not. It was really difficult to get a metric on what was 'good' with him. Still, you were allowed in that space, and that certainly wasn't anything to scoff at.

But you were getting a bit tired, and you probably had a busy morning tomorrow, so you returned back to the main camp and found an inn. It was one of the quilted tents that seemed to make up most of the area, though it was well-furnished and absolutely more comfortable than the tent you had in your camping supplies.

PPT exchanged hands, you were given a key to your room, and you went to sleep.

As you slept, you dreamed.

A voice you didn't recognize tickled your mind. It was light and playful, yet deep and wise. A voice that existed in a state of 'contradiction'- or perhaps possessed an inhuman quality that made it difficult to parse as a member of 'humanity'.

Regardless of your opinion or thoughts on that matter, the narrator within this dream began to speak.

-----: 'There was a young boy, born in France. Having lost his parents, he was abandoned and left on his own.'

-----: 'An abandoned child left to the fare on his own certainly would have died. But a fairy took pity on him, and made him her son. The human heart was a complex thing for her, but he at least felt something akin to what humanity called 'love'. There, he learned and grew, received many blessings and cultivated many skills. That boy became a young man, an ideal knight; handsome and brave of heart, but a bit foolhardy as well.'

-----: 'He had heard rumors that across the water, in the land of the Britons, there was a warrior-king that surpassed all others. Who had been trained by the greatest mage in Europe, and who was a brilliant ray of light that protected Britain from all threats.'

-----: 'Certainly, he mused, this was nonsense. He was the perfect warrior, after all. He was blessed with the fae, and his swordsmanship was unmatched.'

-----: 'I am not interested, the arrogant young knight thought as he hopped upon his steed, I am simply going to see if he is worth my time. And so, he traveled from France to Britain, and arrived upon a battlefield.'

-----: 'That rumored great king, riding gallantly upon a steed. His frame small and waifish, his skin fair and unblemished, and yet the way he commanded the battlefield was an image burned into the young knight's mind for the rest of his days.'

-----: 'That young knight, foolhardy and powerful, came to realize then that the ideals of knighthood were more than simply strength. That despite his skill and his might, this King of the Britons possessed something that he lacked.'

-----: 'Certainly, he realized, this is someone that I would follow to the ends of the Earth and call a friend.'

'A… friend?'

Something pierced your brain, hot and sharp, a knife driving itself into your skull. A hiss, inhuman and animalistic, cruel and fanged.

'No. Not a friend.'

'The person I hate.'

'The person I will never forgive.'

'The person I betrayed.'

'As long as she walks within the light, I will remain in the shadow.'

'As long as her name is praised, mine will be cursed.'

'As it should be. As is fate.'

'I am one who extinguishes the light from the bravehearted.'

'I am the one who ruins, and will continue to ruin.'

'And thus--'

You woke up with a start. You weren't sweating, but you felt cold and clammy. You didn't have much long to rest in your disquiet, as a bombastic voice rattled your eardrums.

RICHARD: "Good morrow! Miss Okuni has requested our presence on the beach, so that we may find a vessel! Aren't you excited?"

Aha.

This was a morning person.

And based on the way he was dragging you to your feet, a particularly inconsiderate one.

You were dragged out of your room, and taken down to the beach where it was already bustling with noise, barely having a chance to shake any of the sleep off yourself.

The shore was a lot more lively in the morning. There were a few stalls selling souvenirs, some food carts, and a lot of people milling about. Some looking at carts and stalls, others looking at boats.

Speaking of, there were a few boats that you had seen under the cover of night before, but now were accompanied by various seafarers promoting themselves.

BOAT CAPTAIN: "Come aboard the Sun's Crest! You won't find a finer vessel on the Solar Cell! Guaranteed comfort, favored even by the Pharaoh Cleopatra! 400 PPT per passenger!"

PIRATES: "Hop onto the Fool's Gold! Only 250 PPT each! What a steal! Y'ain't never seen a better crew, I promise ya' that!"

FISHERMAN: "I've got a few more spots on my boat! Just 150 PPT per person! We're slow and steady, but I haven't had a complaint yet!"

FISH-MAN: "Ye can ride on me back fer 10 PPT! One atta time, though! And ye gotta sign y'self a waiver! But I swim real fast, wouldn't ya know it!"

…Everyone was selling a little something, it seemed. OKUNI approached you, hands on her hips.

OKUNI: "Morning! Here comes the tough part. You've got to be assertive with these things… if you dally around and lose a spot, then you get hit with the junkers, but you don't want to get scammed either, so you've got to be careful."

OKUNI: "How about I leave the boat-finding to you? A good performer needs to have an eye for quality, after all."

[plotdesigner]

At the celebration, Adar finally lets himself be sentimental.

Two days after...

Two days After, they throw you and Mairon-called-Halbrand a party.

Other elves might disdain having a party after such tragedy. Was this not the time to yearn for death and flagellate yourself for falling for Sauron's tricks? And that was all very well and good for elves who lived in fancy hidden cities far away from the danger, but some of you have to live.

( "You're very mean to the theoretical elf in your head," Mairon-called-Halbrand tells you. "Surely you didn't run into that many of them like that?"

"I ran into enough," you mutter. It's been time enough that Angband prison duty is smeared in your head. There were enough times someone had said, I'd rather die than be like you, why didn't you die and save yourself? that the elf in your head is cruel indeed. It is easier to accept that they hate you when you remind yourself of every word they've jabbed into your guts.)

But some elves don't hate you. It is a revelation over and over again, especially after the way your children had all turned against you. It is a revelation, walking in and discovering they all had thought of you enough to send word to the kitchens via Sauron's servants about it.

Fresh baked bread. Butter and jam from the nearby settlements of Men. A roasted ox bone split open to reveal glistening marrow. Pickled vegetables of many kinds. It's not the same as what your children would serve to celebrate a successful raid, but it's close enough. Your treacherous stomach reminds you that you are capable of hunger.

You resist the urge to just jam your fingers into the bone to scoop the marrow out. You make yourself a proper elvish meal with their many utensils and then tear into it. Around you, you see the elves and Mairon-called-Halbrand joining in with equal vigor.

When you're so sated you feel like a snake that's just gotten a mouse down, they bring you gifts. Elrond's is first, a tea that makes your body loose and distant; you can feel pain fading,joints relaxing, your existance dimming comfortably. Celeborn has fine hair ties; you allow him to braid your hair, crowning you with a braid. Galadriel has someohow brought in a living plant for you - and sage is medicinal,sage is edible, but you will never be over the first time you saw the Sirion as it wound through the flowers.

And Celebrimbor has carved you a drop spindle that fits perfectly in your hand. There's a mess of rough sheeps' wool, and - it will make a beautiful thread,eventually.

It's rare that you weep because you'er sad. Rather, your body cries, and you find out why after the fact. Now, surrounded by your new children, you are not sure if it is joy at being able to share this all or fear that it will be taken away. Or both.

(Mairon-called-Halbrand has gotten a wood carved comb from Celeborn, what Galadrial describes as Telari-style slippers made of fish leather that Elrond had helped to sew, and scrap metal and bits of broken gem from Celebrimbor. The slippers will help with Mairon-called-Halbrand's constant pacing, and the comb might be able to tame his hair, and you know that he'll be sucking the metal scraps for weeks after this. He is still a Maia under all that flesh, with needs and wants that a mortal would not usually expect.)

Eventually you all relax together. Mairon-called-Halbrand and galadriel and Celeborn all share a couch, close enough for body heat and hands held, each of their heads on one of Mairon-called-Halbrand's shoulders.

Celebrimbor sits on the floor,cross legged, and lets you rest your head in his lap. You roll on yoru side so he can play with your braids. You allow him. His fingertips scratch against your scalp. You might fall asleep.

And hten there is singing. Elrond on the floor with you. He weaves together a beautiful forge, a bellows being worked, the sound and smell of iron being struck. THe way that soil and rock part and fire flows beneath. The entire world a forge. The beauty of creation, statues carved of red rock by the wind.

And then a valley for you. He sings. A place for your children. A peaceful place. A place that's like -

The lake where the stars swim with the fish, you sing out.

Your voice is not what it was. But Elrond smiles, and Celebrimbor takes your hands and helps you sit up.

"A valley you can live in, a waiting space,"

The darkness like a blanket, a warm embrace -

He sings you an home. You fill it:

At the lake where you were born, there were berry bushes and fruit trees planted that were cared for year after year, so that as you would all wander around the lake, there was always somewhere to eat. The farmers were further away from the lake, caring for golden grain with their gleaming sickles. The winters were mild, the summers sweet. You helped build houses from mud and wood and reeds. There were elves who rode the waters, and elves who loved the forest, and elves who wanted to see more. Rocks dug from the earth, reeds and grass woven, the first gleamings of fire melting metal -

Room for those who wandered, and room for those who wanted to stay in one place. Room to fish,room to build, room to hunt, room to grow, room to explore. Any safe place your children had was hidden or small or both and you want - you want -

You've only been in elf cities long enough to help destroy them. You do not miss Angband's smoke-clogged skies. The only home you know is a half-remembered paradise where elves were discovering their place between animal and god. Your children are not elves,not gods, not beasts, not wanted - somehow both too damaged and too strong -

There will be a stable for your horses, you sing. There will be birdsong, kingfishers and nightengales and even Mordor's flamingos. There will be a place waiting for you to visit me, Elrond. A lake is not as beautiful as your mother's sea or Tyelpe's river or the ice fields where Celeborn met Galadriel, steam-breathed, chill-flushed - but I will show you the lake.

I was continuing from a thing that @plotdesigner wrote. This is the Gold Cages AU AU in which there is still a Sauron but we have a Mairon who never went over to Morgoth.

Under a read more for a brief discussion of the aftermath of rape

The four of them take a long time to heal. It is not, Sauron does not ever hurt them as such - except he does. He enjoys marking his possession even as he might be gentle and afterwards you are sore. Bruised. He might even leave brands upon skin, just from his hands and weight. From the jewels he likes to adorn them with and then play with when he takes them.

And he wanted to imprint himself upon them that night. To erase anything that was not his.

But they heal enough in those two days since that they want to care for their protectors. Perhaps it is a silly thing, to think it would help but it is all they have.

So they make gifts.

Elrond gives Adar a tea that will let him drift or sleep as he wishes - with only happy dreams or no dreams at all. He had put it together with the lore he has learned from him of late. He and Celeborn and Celebrimbor have made small toys for the urklings too.

Celebrimbor makes him a spindle, Celeborn gives ties for braids, the kind of ties he had heard Adar speak of, that the other Moriondor had once given him.

Galadriel has given him a sage blossom. Somehow. In a small pot that might be hidden away. A memory.

They had given them as much space as they might need.

And Elrond had Sung. Weaving memories and stories he had been told into a dream that Adar and Mairon might return to. Of peace and safety.

For Mairon a long ago dream of Valinor, of a song of peace and joy and the wings of Manwes herald that had curled around him in love. Of being free in it, of a forge open to the very sky.

For Adar a dream of a once home and a future one.

They had also given their loved ones. Galadriel and Celeborn had shown a tiny new elfling - wisps of silver curls and determined blue eyes, flashing to a steady elf maiden. Celebrimbor had shown little Mirdania - concentrating on her creation, a small hand reaching for his, the joy of a walk through Eregion. Elrond had shown his brother - they were identical but not, even before Elros had grown a beard.

@themalhambird @nocompromise-noregrets @plotdesigner

[necroman666]

Half an age to love, other to miss for a half elf

[cerubean]

alice spencer-kim's second home

[stubbornlysoft]

All the hesitation dissolved with each new press of her mouth. Her palms against his cheeks; the warmth that spread from her face to her throat to her chest was too hard to fight against.

Then—his words: I would die a thousand deaths… And his mouth tasted exactly how she remembered it from that strange, unremembered dream. And the smell, the familiar scent of leather and something wild and hot—and—and— The heat blossomed low in her belly, the desire spiking hard and fast, igniting her veins and numbing her fingertips as she slipped her fingers to  grasp at his hair, just needing—needing to get closer to him, because she needed him. Wanted him. The thought took a hold of her, gripping at her chest—that this—the sheer presence of him, the sensations on her tongue and the taste she couldn't quite name on his mouth. Fuck this. Fuck you. Why are you making this so easy? She wanted to say this, and so many other things. All her demands were burning like a wild fire in her veins. The only solution was to press her weight harder against him. Her mouth against his. She felt the fabric of his shirt bunch and her hand slipped just under it, feeling the flatness of his abdomen. She was utterly lost in this moment of just feeling and touching. Through the burning lust she could feel the yearning, and the fear trying to climb its way out, the tendrils of memory she had clung onto—the fleeting glimpse of a sunset and an embrace that held such a familiar ache. With a jolt, she sat up, pushing her hair back as she looked down at him, panting slightly as she regained her breathing. The warmth of her fingertips rested on his face, lightly grasping him, her eyes pleading as a tremble escaped her. "I didn't mean it." she began, her voice raspy. "About hating you—I-I—" her breaths were stuttering and her heart pounded as she tried to form words. It took her by surprise—desire didn't allow for such softness. There were still barriers she had yet to take down.

A piece of her couldn't give in until she spoke her mind. The feeling in the pit of her stomach grew. She drew her lower lip into her mouth, a slight dip of her head toward him. The urge to meet his lips again almost caused her to lean forward, but she hesitated, knowing she had to explain— I have known you for eternity. Think, what to say. I've missed you so, so terribly. Tear my heart out, stitch yourself in. You haunt me, torment me in a way no one else can—and I've only known the cruel world, until you. You managed to carve yourself in—to stay when I could have burned a hundred lifetimes. What was left of me...You kept it.  A touch that belongs to you, alone—a home, where no one and nothing will ever find us, or come between us. Say it—speak. The truth—the memory is in your hands. The words are in my tongue. Give in. Say it. Because you have kept every piece of it; —your heart and my heart and the curse between us. "Hey." Her words came out firm, quiet, looking down at him. This was it. "Do you—" She tried to pull the truth, something hidden, even from the vast nothingness to the forefront of her mind. "Have you ever read Anna Karenina?" Don't fuck it up. A dry chuckle escaped her as she felt like the woman in question: on the verge of taking a dangerous step that could possibly throw her off the edge of a metaphorical train track. Say it. "What I meant was—" Her fingers were trembling harder now. The heat that radiated from her face and neck spread throughout her body, an invisible hand that clutched around her throat made her swallow, once, then again, to get a proper amount of air. It's okay, you need to say it "Because—well—" Oh, for the love of— "Tolstoy—" She half laughed and shook her head, her fingers reached for her scarf, pulling it off and tossing it behind her. I give myself to you: Take it. "In the book, there's—" Ugh, fuck this. "Oh, just fuck—" Her throat clenched and, before she could draw her next breath, her mouth crashed against his. The last of her self-restraint unraveling. Can I trust you to catch me when I fall? Are you real? Is this real? Then she pushed—all those unasked questions; the fact that she knew this man on a level beyond her knowledge—against him, physically and with a kiss that was heated and searing and all teeth and tongue. Her hips grinding a little to ease the ache in her, her breathing caught and stuttered. "Sylus, I want you," The words, pressed, rushed, were nearly a whimper between kisses. Said with a weight, with all that remained unspoken from the corners of her mind. "Don't—just—I want you—"

Continued from this. closed rp w/ @sylus-hds-7213

Some time later, Lana straightened her sweater after switching on the dishwasher, reaching for her glass of wine—the driest, cheapest chardonnay that had ever disgraced a bottle. A gift from a co-worker ages ago, in one of those half-hearted holiday exchanges. A part of her wondered if that was all she was worth—a discount dinner bottle shoved in a gift bag at the last minute. She took a sip. 

"This wine tastes like shit."

The words slipped out before she could stop them, but honestly, there was no point in pretending otherwise. Still, she grabbed the bottle again, pouring herself half a glass like sheer stubbornness alone could improve the taste. Apparently, she was a masochist.

She felt Sylus watching her from the kitchen island. His presence alone was unspoken commentary. She didn’t have to look at him to know he was probably smirking, probably about to open his mouth and make it worse.

She exhaled sharply through her nose, taking another reluctant sip. "Don’t say it," she warned, lifting a finger in his general direction without even glancing at him. "I cooked for you, so whatever smartass remark you’re about to make? Swallow it like you swallowed the pasta."

Lana groaned and turned, setting the glass down a little too hard on the island. "Look, I already committed. I opened this garbage. It was a white elephant gift, and I refuse to let it win."

She reached for the small succulent sitting in the center of the island, pulling it toward her. She pressed a finger lightly against the soil—her movements focused. Because if she focused on this, she wouldn’t be forced to focus on him and try to come up with more things to talk about. 

Her fingers idly traced the rim of her glass before she finally looked up, holding it aloft. "I’ve been sparing you for the last hour, by the way." A slow smirk tugged at her lips as she tilted her glass toward him. "From this. You’re welcome."

[sciderman]

You said that if you dated Peter or Wade it would make you miserable. Which– Okay fair, Wade does have a history of purposely hurting the people he loves.

But what about Peter? Why do you think dating him would make you miserable?

because I’ll always know I had the option to climb a 6’8 cyborg and I passed that up for a sweaty little twunk that I perpetually have to remind to bathe (sorry peter)

[rawliverandgoronspice]

given that seems to be the new popular take in the fandom at large since totk got out: let the record show that I'll gladly let myself get repeatedly manipulated by the wind waker speech and be foolishly moved by its implications over rejecting space for humanity and vulnerability in the monstrous and the dispossessed, and then feeling weirdly smug about severing that fleeting attempt at connection and deem it obviously insincere

[robinmage]

no kind of relationship will ever be as impactful as the slightly toxic slightly homoromantic hyperdependent bestfriendship you had with someone when you were like 12