#the tiny step backward

[dont-let-me-eat-pears]

osha looking for qimir

[badninken]

Killer vs Hawkins

bonus:

[tonycries]

Isn't That Sweet? (I Guess So) - G.S.

Synopsis. Oh no! Why do your pantíes keep disappearing? Well, maybe your hot roommate knows the answer…

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, pànty-stealer! roommate! Gojo, annoyances-to-lovers, he’s REALLY down bad, vírgin! Gojo, oraI (fem receiving), màle màsturbation, pining, face-sítting, jealousy (his side), fírst times, unprotected, creampíe, teary Gojo, pànty-gagging, HEINOUS things, pet names, aIcohol mentions, swearing.

Word count. 8.6k (whoopsies)

A/N. Hope y’all have a lovely week hehe <3

“Damn…” you sigh at the glaringly empty drawer, rubbing your eyes as if that would make a difference - maybe even magically materialize a fresh pair of panties in front of you. “It’s the second time this month.”

Or was it the third?

But, alas, standing around in your bedroom on a Sunday night does not give you the answers. Or any extra underwear.

Which is why you find yourself making a beeline for the bathroom - teeth gritted, stomach flipping at how very, very exposed you felt underneath the thin fabric of your shorts. Cursing everything from the building’s rundown old washing machine to Gojo’s stupid smile when he took away your laundry basket.

You could’ve sworn you saw your last pair perched right on top of your pile of old clothes, all flimsy and an obscene red that stood out amongst everything else. 

Seriously, how hard would it have been to lose that thing? Maybe you could bother him into buying a new washing machine for-

“Woah there-” Before you know it, you’re crashing face-first into a wall? Pillows? Gojo - unfairly shirtless. “Now, what’s got your panties in a twist, sweetheart?”

The lack thereof. 

Maybe because you can’t say that, maybe because of what looks - feels - like miles upon miles of milky, sculpted skin, you’re instead settling for an extremely eloquent, “Nothing I uh-” But whatever excuse catches in your chest as you raise your face - still smushed between two large pecs - up, up, up and-

Oh. 

It’s not like you’re seeing something new - far from it, actually, unfortunately for your poor heart.

And at first, you’d thought it was some strange habit - hell, maybe the guy just didn’t like t-shirts. But it was around the fourth or fifth time he’d forgone one that you realized Gojo Satoru was just a tease. A no-good, insufferably smug tease that just loved to catch you ogling him. 

But, well, at least the rent was cheap.

Though, you weren’t exactly complaining about the view either…

Because lo and behold stood the infamous campus sweetheart - you knew about fourteen people who’d kill to see this exact sight. Gojo’s cloudy hair tousled, tiny droplets of water twinkling like diamonds against the bathroom light. Bouncing off his rippling abs, his strong arms circling your waist to stop you from falling backwards. Holding you too fucking close against the white towel slung low on his hips. His skin damp, smelling so delicious-

“Gojo, did you use my body lotion?” 

“Awww–” he whines, finally releasing his grip on you. “You were supposed to admire me some more.”

You scoff, eyes darting over broad shoulders - partially to search for your laundry basket, partially because you really couldn’t handle looking right at a shirtless Gojo Satoru any longer. “As if. Get out if you’re done.”

“Damn, woman. Feisty.” Gojo lets out a deep chuckle - smooth and cocky - when you’re hastily shoving him away from the doorframe. “If you wanted to put your hands on me that bad then you jus’ hafta ask, y’know~”

It was way too late for this. 

“Hilarious.” you deadpan, though you let go of where you were gripping Gojo’s arm like it burned. Immediately stepping behind the bathroom door before he could make you lose whatever’s left of your sanity, “Next time you hog the bathroom m’gonna smash those ugly new sunglasses of yours.”

He’s pressing his foot between that gap in the door to stop you from closing it, “Oi, don’t think I don’t see that glint in your eyes, sweetheart.” Yeah, the glint in your eyes that told you if looks could kill then Gojo would be six feet under already. Which only makes him grin wider, “You’re telling me you really weren’t checkin’ out the most sought-after man on campus jus’ now?”

Huffing in frustration, you cross your arms, “I don’t see Geto Suguru anywhere.”

“...you take that back right now. I’m the pretty best friend.”

“Am not.”

“Am too.”

“Am not. Isn’t that why you’re still single?”

“Th-that’s not- fuckin’ Suguru? Really? Most people would kill for a look of this-” Gojo gestures at his bare torso, and once more you’re reminded that those absolutely awful protein shakes he makes every morning aren’t just for show. “-and you’re getting it daily.”

You reach out a hand, Gojo chest hot underneath your touch. He seizes up instantly, ears tinging red as you muse, “Yeah.” Only to push him fully out the doorway, “I just wish you’d shut up daily, too.”

With that, you’re shutting the door with a resounding slam! Feeling only slightly guilty until you hear Gojo’s squawks of protest from outside, “I really don’t know what’s got your panties in a twist.”

Right. Panties.

Something just a tad more important than recounting exactly how many abs Gojo Satoru had.

You let out a shuddering breath, clamoring to find that spare laundry basket you’d forgotten in here earlier today. Shuffling through through the soft clothes, hoping, praying to find-

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. 

Fuck. 

Somehow, you’re hiding away your body lotion that night.

---

“Now, listen here, sweetheart. I know you look fuckin’ gorgeous in everything but-”

“Satoru.”

“But that-” he whirls around, pointing a long finger accusingly at the boxers you’d improvised into sleep shorts. Spitting venomously, “-that I cannot allow.”

You’re rolling your eyes at your roommate’s theatrics, forking through your pancakes while he monologues to himself more than you. “Why does it even matter? It was just for yesterday.” you mutter. “I didn’t have any clean uh- panties for the night n’ this worked.”

Thankfully, since the fresh laundry this morning, you’d found two more of your panties - courtesy of a very smug Gojo handing off your clothes. Ah, it felt like the universe itself was smiling down on you.

But oh if you thought the great Gojo Satoru was having a breakdown before then you weren’t prepared for when you lifted your gaze off the kitchen table. Only to meet his - eyes wide, a pretty pink blush coloring his cheeks, lips gawking and stuttering around what looked like a silent, “P-panties-”

You raise a brow, “What’s got you this worked up, Gojo?”

“Nothing.” he clears his throat, “Absolutely nothing at all. Panties? I love- er, wait no-”

“B-besides-” you bristle at the way his heavy gaze was now turning to flit between your face and down below. Dangerously. “They’re not even yours so I don’t know why it matters.”

This seems to snap him out of his little reverie, and he’s immediately standing up straighter, brows furrowing. He continues, in a much more serious tone than before, “They’re his?” 

You stab your breakfast with a bit too much vitriol than necessary, looking at Gojo with narrowed eyes, “If you mean the one my ex left behind then yes. Who else?”

Your ex wasn’t good for much - and Gojo seemed especially hostile towards him because of his distaste for your little living situation. But, hey, at least the guy was helping you out at this time. Albeit unknowingly. 

He’s raising his hands in mock-surrender, shuffling back into the kitchen to work on the rest of those “world famous” Gojo pancakes. “Nothing nothing.” he hums, and maybe it was how sleep-deprived you were - running on a few too many assignments due today and a few too little panties - but you think Gojo’s voice has a bit more bite to it than usual. Jaw clenching as he plows on, “Of course that fucker- in my- our apartment, too. Fuck-”

A spatula is suddenly mere inches from your face, Gojo brandishing it in front of you like a weapon as he declares, “We’re going panty-shopping after Yaga’s lecture today.”

“Gojo, I-”

“We-” he cuts you off, delicately placing another pancake on your plate - a little truce. So close now that it reminds you of last night - you could feel his minty breath on your face, count every long, sultry eyelash of his. “-are going panty-shopping after Yaga’s lecture n’ I’m paying. That’s final.”

And of course, in true Gojo fashion, you can barely get a word out before he’d immediately ducking out of the kitchen. You almost let your lips curl into a smile, hit with a sudden wave of endearment as you hear Gojo’s long legs padding urgently down the hallway to God-knows-where. Maybe he did know when to be-

Smack!

You jolt as you’re hit with a pair of boxers - fresh ones, thankfully, that you recognized from all the clothes you’d rummaged through last night - plopped unceremoniously onto your lap. Jaw dropping in disbelief when you look up to meet Gojo’s devilish grin. 

“Next time-” he winks, motioning at the fabric you were poking in concern now. “-wear mine.”

The talk of Yaga’s lecture hall that morning was of a pair of burned boxers found right outside your building, everyone speculating what the poor guy had done to have his presumed girlfriend make an example of it like that. 

For you, however, the only thing running through your mind was whether or not you could count properly.

Because surely you remembered it correctly when you counted two new underwear this morning - that gauzy black one and the deep red? Two. Definitely not the singular, sad piece of red fabric laying on your bed after breakfast today? Two. The only one you could find even after scouring through your whole bedroom. 

So where the fuck had that other one gone?

---

(8+ new messages)

Do not answer (roomie)🧿🧿: Hurry up ive been lurking inside that lingerie shop ya told me you liked n’ now the old ladies here look like they wanna eat me alive ＼(º □ º l|l)/

im boooored, gonna stand still n’ start blending in with these mannequins if you dont hurry up istg

Hurry

HURRY

HURRY THEY THINK IM SUSPICIOUS

PLEASE THEYRE GONNA ESCORT ME OUT

┬┴┬┴┤･ω･)ﾉ i literally SEE YOU outside 

BITCH STOP LAUGHING-

No sooner are you letting out a cackle at Gojo’s rapid-fire texts, you’re looking up to see the man himself being walked outside by two security guards. Squabbling heatedly in a way that had them heaving out long sighs - which, honestly, you felt a stab of relatable empathy for.

“-I swear I’m not a creep I’m jus’-” Gojo’s bickering dies on his tongue as he catches the sight of you walking closer to the commotion. Closer. Taking your sweet sweet time, eyes just barely glazing over him before- you’re walking away. “Hey!” he calls out, stopping you in your tracks. “Now, don’t you dare-” Before turning back to his wary escorts, “I’m with her.”

They exchange a look between each other, and no matter how much you’d like to pretend the scene had absolutely nothing to do with you - you’d rather Gojo doesn’t get banned from the mall altogether. 

“He’s right.” you drone out, one hand grabbing Gojo’s, the other forcing his head into an apologetic bow. Hissing to the side so that only he would hear, “Unfortunately.”

The two security guards now seem more amused than anything at your strange dynamic. One of them raises a brow, muttering, “Well…this one’s certainly a handful.” Turning around to head back to their stations, “Ya better keep a tight leash on your boyfriend.”

You sputter, eyes wide, “Oh- he’s not-”

But it’s too late - they’re both swiftly out of earshot, most likely more than happy to hand over the public nuisance off to you. And Gojo’s looking to you with a smug smirk, voice dropping about an octave deeper as he breathes against your ear, “So, gonna take your boyfriend to help out with lingerie shopping, sweetheart?”

Oh. God. 

This was going to be one long day.

“I’m only here because another one of mine disappeared, y’know.” you hiss, rifling through all the options before you. “Which really has me wondering why-”

“H-hey! How about this one?” Gojo interrupts, shoving a lacy set right in front of your face, his voice just a bit louder than what was appropriate. 

You sigh, catching the eyes of a few disapproving older women around you. “No this is-” But running a thumb over the fabric makes you bite back an insult. And for all how brash Gojo was, maybe his panty selection wasn’t awful. It was a flimsy little thing, gauzy and light blue - the type you’d typically wear on a night out. You meet his boyish grin, admitting, “...not bad.”

“See?” he laughs - eyes glinting with delight as he piles on a few more in your basket. “N’ if you’re impressed with that then you’re gonna be proposing to me when you realize it’s exactly your size-”

You quirk a brow, “How do you know my size, Gojo?”

And this makes his body stiffen, large shoulders squaring up, throat bobbing as he answers,“Uh? Experience?”

Oh, right. You’re rolling your eyes, fighting off a weird little stab of irritation. This probably isn’t the first time he’s come here with a girl, anyway. 

And yet, despite however much of an alleged “catch” Gojo was, he’d - perhaps mercifully - never brought anyone over. You don’t know why, but you didn’t really want to question it.

“A-anyway.” Gojo’s airy voice cuts through your thoughts. And he’s plucking up a few more sets of lingerie for you to sort through, “Can’t let these one, two, three- six lovely lil’ things go to waste now, can we?” At your look of confusion, he chuckles, guiding the two of you to the counter now. “Suguru’s holding a party at his place tonight, how would you like to do the honors of being my cute plus one?”

“I’d rather go with Yaga.”

Though, you really can’t say no - not when Gojo’s flashing you that black card as he pays for everything in an instant. Not when all he can prattle about on the way home  is how gorgeous you’d look together at Geto’s party - how you’ll have to beat everyone off of him with a stick (to which you reply that you’d no sooner do that than beat him with a stick.)

Not when he sits outside your bedroom door as you get ready later that night. Insisting on keeping you company even as you slip out of your towel. Looking over your shoulder to make sure he wasn’t peeking in before eagerly turning to grab at one of your new set of silky white panties- only, they weren’t there.

Strange. 

“Hey, Gojo…” you call out, looking underneath your blankets for where you might’ve thrown them about after trying them on. Under your bed, in your drawers, anywhere. “-didn’t we buy six sets?”

“Huh? Dunno, I didn’t count. Just wear the blue one.” he whines, ushering you to hurry up from outside. Face burning because shit, this was you and you were inside - still wrapped up in only that sinful little towel. Oh, would the painful death really be worth it if he happened to accidentally look around? “S’pretty and y’know what else?”

Your voice was muffled as you hastily put on your clothes, “What?”

“It matches my eyes.”

Really strange.

---

Thankfully for Gojo, you didn’t go with Yaga to the party - nor did you find your lost pair of panties, sadly, but that wasn’t too much of a concern for him. 

And here he was - one hurried Uber ride and about several billion death threats from you later. Wishing that you’d actually just acted on one of them because fuck at least then he wouldn’t have to be watching from across the room as some bastard from the university basketball team tried to chat you up.

Gojo can’t even hear the way the girls surrounding him were giggling about something or the other, alcohol making his tongue a little heavier, eyes a bit glassier. 

Nothing like the way that other man was drinking in that polite smile on your face. Tilting your head to face forwards and- God, why won’t you just look at him instead?

Would that guy still look at you that way if he knew you were wearing lingerie matching his eyes right now?

“Not gonna entertain your fans?” Geto’s voice rings through his whirlwind thoughts, eyeing down the forgotten crowd in amusement.

“When have I ever?” Gojo runs a hand through his hair in frustration. 

He lets out a knowing laugh, “Yeah, you little vir-” Turning into a coughing fit when Gojo elbows his best friend straight in his stomach. “Anyways.” Geto gestures with his drink in your direction, as if Gojo hadn’t seen - as if it wasn’t the only thing on his mind right now. “Well, your lil’ roomie there seems to be popular, too, huh? Star player of the basketball team n’ all. 

He clicks his tongue, slumping further against the thumping wall. “So? I’m taller, and more handsome.”

“Are you sure ‘bout that?”

“Y-yeah?” he sputters. 

“Well then why aren’t you over there with her?” Geto hums, lips curling. “Looks t’me like even she doesn’t like him that much so why’re you being a pussy over here? Always sneaking around stealing her-” 

“Shut up-” And Gojo knows he’s riling him up, he knows that Geto wants to see a little drama - maybe finally shut up his pining over the one girl he’s wanted for the past year - and couldn’t have. It’s a trap. But Gojo can’t stop his head from snapping between you and his best friend’s sly smirk. Slurring indignantly, “Of course I’m fuckin’ handsome, n’ taller. I’d make a better boyfriend too and-” He trails off at the sight of that loser leaning in - but more importantly that tiny furrow in your brows, your hands on his chest softly keeping him at bay. “-and m’gonna go over there n’ prove it.”

“Ah, that loser’s gonna thank me later.”

And, hell, Gojo could barely even walk. Barely even think straight as he’s parting the stuffy living room, ignoring whatever whispers and titters were following him. 

“I said no-”

“Hey, sweetheart.” you jump when someone - Gojo - creeps up from behind you. Large build hanging off your own when he nuzzles his face into your neck. And you could feel his toothy grin on your skin, “Missed me?”

Your face burns, “I uh-” Angling your face as dignifiedly as possible to face your roommate, “Gojo, are you drunk?”

“Drunk on you, yes.”

“What the-”

The man in front of you pipes up - shuffling uncomfortably on his feet. “Didn’t realize you were taken. My bad.” Looking like he’d rather be anywhere but under the scrutiny of Gojo Satoru. His big arms tightening around your middle - when did they even get there? “I’ll just uh- get out of your way, man.”

“Mhm, by the way,” Gojo puffs up his chest a bit, clearly towering over the other man - ha, take that Suguru. “Nice loss against Kyoto last week, real knee-jerker.” 

You smack Gojo’s chest at his rudeness, to which he only smiles wider. Watching the other man being swiftly handled away by another apologetic member of the basketball team.

“Gojo.”

And before you can react, Gojo’s dragging his pretty plump lips along where that light blue band of your bra was just peeking out, murmuring lowly, “Love it when you scold me like that.” Still refusing to let go of you despite the jealous looks thrown your way, “Let’s go home, my girl.”

Oh, the look on your face was priceless. 

He just wished he could fish out his phone and record, or maybe even tell Geto to take a picture - help him make it his wallpaper. And he did - over fifteen times, in fact, as the two of you helped drag him away from the thrumming party. Geto doesn’t listen, of course, and you neither do you - grumbling out a slew of profanities underneath your breath that makes the Uber driver look at the two of you weird.

And yet, Gojo’s biggest issue right now was trying to climb up these fucking stairs - not when they were trying to run away from him. 

“I swear to God, Gojo-” you huff, chest heaving under the weight of walking - well, more like dragging - your roommate up to your apartment. Knees wobbly - maybe at the intensity of his cologne, maybe at the way his biceps were flexing on your shoulders, probably at how fucking useless he was. Damn lightweight. “You better cover my rent for the next year for this.”

“Of course I will~” his hot breath tickles your ear, “Anything for m’girl. I’ll take care of us forever, don't you worry your pretty lil’ head.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t deny the way your heart clenches - just a little bit. And if you’re slamming open Gojo’s bedroom door with a little more force than necessary, well, at least he’s a bit too impaired to nag at you about it.

He bounces lightly when you throw him on his plush mattress, giggling softly, “You should just join me, y’know. Have a little sleepover.”

“Drop dead.” you monotone, not even daring to look back at him while you shuffle through Gojo’s shirts. Throwing one over your shoulder at him, “N’ wear this, I just know you’ll complain about messing up your favorite button-up tomorrow morning.”

“Aww, you always take care of me so well, my girl~”

That familiar little nickname makes a shiver run down your spine, and it’s all you can do to concentrate on shuffling through Gojo’s drawers in search of his shorts. Absent-mindedly reaching for the lowest drawer and-

“Wait!” 

You jump, whirling around to catch Gojo sitting up ram-rod straight on the bed, eyes wide, hand reaching out as if to stop you. Swallowing thickly, you ask. “Gojo?”

And he jolts - like the very sound of your voice is sending electricity zapping through his veins. Abruptly scrambling off the bed before resting two hands on your shoulders, gently guiding you away from the drawer. “My shorts are uh- in my wardrobe, heh. Sorry about that.”

Furrowing your brows at the sudden twist, you squirm in his grasp to look at the drawer again. Failing - when Gojo keeps his grip steadfast, “Why’re you acting so-” 

“How about we order take out? My treat?”

And that night, tucking yourself into bed, you should be falling asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow. You should be caring less about that strange little outburst of Gojo’s inside his room. You should have realized sooner - those light blue panties you’d worn tonight were gone. No longer in your hamper of old clothes.

And there was only one thing to do. 

---

Gojo thinks he shouldn’t - fuck he knows he shouldn’t. He doesn’t even want to- well, that last bit was a lie.

Gojo Satoru first met you about a year ago, when you’d come knocking at his door asking about his ad for a roommate. It was more because he was bored inside this big apartment by himself than anything, really, but here you were all gorgeous and sweet, flashing him a smile that was burned into his mind for the rest of the week, at the very minimum. How could he ever say no?

And when you’d taken to walking around the apartment in those slutty lil’ shorts as a way to get back at his perpetual shirtless-ness? Thin panties just peeping out of the low hem? 

God, it was everything he could do to not run to the bathroom with each little glimpse. He was fucked, so very embarrassingly fucked. 

He just never thought it would get to this point - the first time had been an accident, honestly. When your laundry had gotten mixed up with his. Surely he didn’t remember having such a cute pair of pink panties in his closet? And surely it didn’t mean anything if he just-so-happened to stash them away, right?

At least, that’s what Gojo told himself the first time. And the second. And the third. And shit, it was a bit of an addiction now, and within a year of rooming with you, he’d accumulated a drawer stuffed guiltily with exactly what he shouldn’t be having. 

Gojo Satoru - insufferable campus sweetheart, the dreamy first place on everyone’s To-Fuck list - had been hoarding away your pretty panties. Like the pathetic virgin he pretends he isn’t. 

And so here he was - that dirty little drawer flung open, pants pulled down just enough, one hand flat on the flat surface to steady himself, while the other fisted desperately around his swollen cock - and one of your panties. 

“F-fuck, sweetheart.” he’s hissing, body shuddering in lewd little tremors at that torturous drag of fabric down his length. Squeezing at his thick base, moving fast - filthy up, up, up to thumb along the end of his sopping slit. “Feels s’good- too fucking good hngh-”

Such a pretty, wet gasp escapes him when your soaked, absolutely ruined underwear catches on his veins, tangling around his sensitive shaft. And he’s biting his lip, trying not to make a noise when he threads through the mess down below. 

“Oh fuck, yer killin’ me even when you’re ngh- not here.” he breathes unsteadily, weaving the sticky fabric around his long fingers. Tight - just how he knew you would. “S’like you know what you do t’me with these.”

They were your blue ones, this time - the ones from just last night. The ones you were wearing not even a full day ago. And Gojo has them wrapped daintily around his rock-hard cock, stark against the blushing red at his fat head. Already so drenched in precum as he fucks his fist. 

“Y’looked so p-pretty with these, sweetheart.” he groans over the wet fwip! fwip! fwip! Eyes rolling to the back of his head with each long, feverish stroke. “So pretty being mine. Ngh- so pretty in my- fuck.” 

Slam!

He’s hitting his palm facedown on the wood, knees buckling, eyes scrunching shut with pleasure. 

And that ruined, utterly depraved part of Gojo wonders whether next time he should steal your bras too? Have the full set of you proudly wearing his color like some secret little slut for him. 

He’s letting out a ragged little laugh, oh how cute you’d look all confused. Nipples hard through your flimsy excuse of a t-shirt while you looked around for them. While you asked him for help. 

Oh, just the thought of that has Gojo’s red, furious cock beading glossy drops of precum at his tip. Leaking a sinful, slippery sheen down his wrist. “Ah.” he lets out a guttural groan when his angry dick twitches in his hand, falling onto his elbow on the drawer. Not having the strength - or the sanity - to keep himself up anymore. “Look what you’ve-” Gojo’s eyes catch sight of a flash of red inside, sounding so wrecked. “Look what you’ve done.”

And those obscene red panties are snatched up by his free hand in a second, not even a second wasted before Gojo’s bringing them up to his face. 

Fuck. 

“Look what you’ve done. Look how ngh- filthy you’ve made me.” he whines, muffled. Hips fucking up in quick, uncontrollable little thrusts into his closed fist. Voice a pitch higher as he spits out embarrassing little accusations, “How pathetic. Gettin’ fuck- gettin’ off to this? Me of all hah- people like this? Can’t imagine how f-fucking mad you’d be.”  

Would you figure out it was him? Would you look in his drawer again? Teach him a lesson or two about being such a pathetic little pervert for his roommate. 

Maybe - just maybe - if Gojo plays his cards right, gets on his knees and begs for mercy, then you’d let him keep his little treasure. 

He throws his head back in a humorless little laugh when his aching hand slows down to languid, unforgivable tugs. He had time, anyway, your classes ended late today. Torturous - exactly the way he imagines you’d drive him mad. “Heh- wish this was you.”

You’d be so much meaner, pressing down on that little divot at his tip, flicking teasingly like you were trying to fuck out something delicious. You’d be running your nails down his achy veins, running your soft palms around his painful balls. 

You’d whisper, “This all you got, Toru?”

“Oh fuck!” Gojo moans, raspy little sounds of what sounds like your name filtering through the crevices of his fingers, your panties. “Fuck fuck fuck- gonna cum.” he whines. Heavy balls smacking back into his thighs with each thrust into your imaginary hand. How he wished you were here. He’s managing to wrench his eyes open to spy down at his sloppy cock - needing to see how your cute lil’ panties would look painted all white for him. How he wished you- “Gonna-”

Oh. Fuck. 

You. 

“Aw, why stop now, Gojo?”

You’re leaning against Gojo’s open bedroom door, flashing him such a sultry little smirk. Your voice almost a purr when you echo, “I said…” Before taking two long steps to where he stood frozen, “Why stop now?”

Gojo lets the damp fabric held up to his face drop in guilt - yet the other stays firmly wrapped around that hand cock of his still in hand. 

“S-sweetheart what are you- why-” And perhaps for the first time in the twenty-something years that Gojo Satoru has terrorized this planet, he’s speechless. Worry-bitten lips sagging open stupidly, “I- this is-”

You cut him off, “So you’re the panty thief.” So close now that Gojo’s dick was throbbing at each heave of your chest, the way you were squeezing your thighs together. Eyes sliding down his body to rest at the mangled mess of your all-new panties around his painfully hard cock. “I knew it.”

“I can explain-”

“All those times pretending to help me?” you bat your lashes in a way that makes him gulp. Words dripping with the same tease he’d imagined in daydreams just like this. “When you were the pervert stealing my panties? Are you even ashamed?”

Gojo flushes an innocent pink, excuses tumbling out of those pretty lips immediately. But they sound like lies even to him.

“This- ngh-” he’s rolling his hips forward when you slide a smaller finger down his arm, between his pecs, almost the way down to those tufts of white. “Fuuuck- y-you’re not mad? Are ya the devil herself cuz you’re gonna- ngh- kill me this way.”

Humming, “Class was canceled, but of course - don’t hah- stop on my account, Gojo.”

“Toru.” he’s gasping out, a low moan wrenching out of him when he’s bowing his body into his fist again. Squeezing - almost warningly - at his hilt. “C-call me Toru. Please.”

And fuck he could’ve cum right then and there at that devilish little smile you give him, biting down on your lower lip - inches from his that it felt like you were biting down on his. Maybe you were, shit Gojo didn’t even know right now. 

“Toru.”

That’s all it takes for Gojo’s lips to be crashing onto yours. Biting back a little whimper at the messy clash of teeth, of spit, because one taste of your candied lips and he was already so addicted. 

“Mmpf-” Gojo gasps, chasing hotly after your lips. Eyes half-lidded to watch the snapping of those delicate strings of saliva, “You’re- you’re so-” And he’s way too impatient to get out his words, licking heatedly at the slit of your mouth. Over and over and over-  “As bad as me- ngh-”

“Are ya sure about that?” you grin, cunt clenching at your roommate’s pained grunt when you pull away. “Because look-”

And the both of you are stuck on the way Gojo’s moving again, hips fucking up in jagged, mindless little grinds. Like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. Like he didn’t even feel the way his leaky tip was smearing along the front of your sinfully short skirt. 

“Can’t help it.” he whines, kissing down your neck. Hips urging forwards to slip up the thigh-length fabric, and when you don’t pull away, Gojo drags your skirt up, up, up with his pulsing length, “You don’t know what you do to me- fuck.”

His jaw falls slack, ogling at the sight of your pretty pussy on full display for him. Already so glossy with your sweet sweet juices, needy between your restless thighs. Bare. 

And this might be the first time he’s seen a cunt in real life but Gojo already knows - he already feels - that she’s gonna be the death of him. 

Sharp teeth nip at your bottom lip, tugging. “What the fuck-” Gojo breathes - more to himself than anything. “What the fuck what the-” Bringing down his free hand to run the pads of his long fingers along your puffy folds, as if to confirm whether this was real. “-fuck! Going out like this? You’re even dirtier than me, huh?.” 

“What can I do?” Sliding your arms around his broad shoulders, palms running along the heated skin. Back arching to grind down on his hand, “Someone stole all my panties.”

Your words fall on deaf ears, because Gojo doesn’t hesitate for even a second before he’s bringing his dripping wet fingers up to his lips. Smoldering eyes looking right into yours when he pops them in his mouth. Sucking them dry. 

“Oh fuck, sweetheart.”

In a split second, you’re being splayed out on Gojo’s king-sized bed like such a slut. Bouncing at the sheer force of the throw. And it happens so fast that you almost think you’re seeing things - but, no, the way you’re bouncing against the silky sheets was real. Your skirt bunching up at your waist was real. 

Gojo’s hazy gaze getting stuck right at the spot between your legs was real. 

“Shiiiit.” he murmurs, low and gravelly, like he’s moving through molasses. Stalking towards your trembling figure as if hypnotized, “Oh, she looks even prettier this way.”

You shuffle in embarrassment, pressing your thighs together, “Toru-”

But he doesn’t hear you, instantly scrambling onto the bed. “No- no no no no no-” Just wrenching your legs apart with his hands. “No, you don’t get to hide th-this from me, you don’ know how long I’ve waited for this. How much I’ve imagined-”

You’re gasping when he runs the tip of his index between your sopping wet slit, coating his fingers in your juices once more. Teasing. “N’ so wet. This all f’me? God, can’t even- ngh-”

“So eager.” you mumble, fingers threading through Gojo’s soft locks to pull him in so close. To drag him towards where you needed him the most. “Why don’t you jus’ shut up- N’ put that big mouth of yours into use somewhere else?”

His eyes widen, words a whisper, “C-can I?” He doesn’t wait for your response before flipping the two of you so easily. Having you toppling precariously on his lap now, “Can I really? Never done this before.”

Never?

It’s not before he lets out a shy huff, that you realize that you said that out loud. “So what? S’that bad?” Two large hands groping and kneading your ass to keep you in place, “Ya didn’t actually ngh- believe all those stories on campus, did ya?”

Squirming at the feeling of his massive girth rubbing up against your swollen folds, “D-doesn’t matter.” You grit out, “You can…”

And no sooner are you seeing Gojo’s megawatt smile, you’re already feeling it between your thighs. Being wrestled up like some glorified ragdoll, dragging your sloppy cunt all the way up to straddle Gojo’s pretty face. 

“So, this is what she ngh- looks like.” he whines, hot breath lapping at your quivering pussy. “Shit, she’s so wet I could almost-” You’re gasping when the man below you simply sticks his awaiting tongue out, admiring your pussy while letting your syrupy sweet slick drip! drip! drip! down his throat. “This all f’me?” 

The only thing you can give him right now is a needy little whine - which makes Gojo kiss the fat of your ass with a sharp smack! Biting his lip at the way it jiggles against his hand, “Tell me, where did my feisty girl go?”

That lewd little nickname has you scoffing in pathetic frustration, your grip searing on his scalp when you force his obscene mouth closer. “Y-you seriously need to-” Pulling, “-shut up, Toru.”

And oh, you’d played right into Gojo’s devilish hands. This was exactly what he wanted - to have his face stuffed between your limp legs, ready mouth meshing messily with the folds of your dripping cunt. “There she is.” he moans, the tip of his tongue slurping up the sloppy dredges of your slick. Carding between your pussy lips, “Oh- fuck there she is. Yeah use me like that- use me.”

He’s running his mouth a mile a minute and you wonder how. Because Gojo was lapping at your cunt so feverishly, everywhere - from your inner thighs, to your folds, to just around the circles of your sloppy entrance like he wanted to taste it all. And couldn’t decide where to go first. 

“T-Toru.” you let out a honey sweet mewl of his name when the tip of his nose is rubbing against your clit. “There. Right there-”

Eyes rolling to the back of his head when he easily locates your sensitive nub. Wrapping those ruby lips around your clit to give an experimental suck. 

Shit, he could almost pass out from how heavenly you look on top guiding him. Your entire body jolting with each roll of his hot tongue, giving him such a pretty view of your tits up your silky shirt. Just dragging your sloppy cunt all into his mouth when he toys with your pulsing clit. 

“Oh fuck!” your hips are darting away with each zap of electricity sent down your spine. 

Which, for Gojo - who’s only ever dared to dream up this moment on those lonely nights - isn’t enough. 

“Know m’new to this, sweetheart, but stop bein’ nice n’ fuckin-” He’s pulling on the crease of your waist, dragging you to rest your entire weight on his face - his mouth. “-sit.” You’re keening when Gojo forces you to collapse on his soft tongue, bullying past your puffy folds and into that sloppy ring of muscle. Jus’ barely dipping past the resistance, “I said use me so fuckin’ use me. Don’ care if I can’t breathe - if I fucking suffocate- ngh- m’gonna die if you don’t just sit.”

“Fine.” You cry out when the curve of his tongue is molding into your gummy walls, pushing recklessly past. Not even fucking easing you into it before he’s fucking you on his tongue. Calculated, mean little thrusts in search of all your sweet spots. “No half-assing then, m’kay?”

Though, you had the feeling that he would do anything but. 

“Good, now keep still.” he’s scolding, one hand starting up again in those slow, satisfied tugs on his length. “Please keep still.” And the other dancing between your legs to push a finger inside your snug cunt. “Mmm it’s a tight fit, can feel ya clenching around me. Ngh- always wondered how it’d feel- where that would be.”

Blinking away the haze in your eyes, you look down at where Gojo was already locked on you, “Th-that?”

“That.” he breathes into your cunt, voice reverent as he speeds up. “S’your pussy gonna tell me where your good spot is? Gonna help me ngh- learn?”

And to your embarrassment - and Gojo’s smug satisfaction, it only takes a few more hurried strokes of his tongue before he’s nudging against your g-spot. Both the texture of his tongue and his long, cold fingers curling to assault the poor bundle of nerves. 

Your body bows deeper as if on auto-pilot, “Oh- fuck! You fucking- hngh”

He’s snickering at the way you’re so responsive, cock hard - and only swelling girthier in his fist with each adorable moan falling from your lips. 

“Oh yeah? There? Ya like this?” he moans, “Ya like shutting up the ngh- p-pervert that steals your panties with your cunt?” 

Getting faster. More attuned to his feral need. 

Lips smacking in tempo with those obscene squelches, you can’t tear your eyes away from the way his cheeks hollow. Fingers still so rapid, moving to make out and toy so messily with you clit - untimed, sloppy but fuck did you love it. 

“Y-yes.” you’re shoving his mouth guiltlessly deeper. Letting his long tongue explore every crevice and inch of you. Sloppier. So, so filthy. “Love it- fuck- you’re such a fast fucking learner.”

“I know.”

There was that cocky Gojo Satoru you were used to, lips curling into a strawberry pink smile around your clit - all glossy and sweet with a sheen of your slick. Making such a mess of the lower half of his face, his chin, shit, all the way down to his jaw. 

“M’close-” you choke out at the sight, “M’so fuckin’ close- gonna- gonna cum on your tongue, Toru.”

“Look at you ruining me.” his words hit you hard on your sensitive cunt, sending shockwaves up your arched spine. Obscene little smacks of his lips following your barely-lucid mewls.“Absolutely defiling me. Are ya proud of nghhh fuck- yourself?”

It’s all you can do to manage out a strained, “Yes! Yes yes yes yes- God, m’so close, Toru/ Gonna cum m’gonna-”

You don’t even realize it when you’re cumming at first, just that you’re riding Gojo’s unfairly pretty face in harsh grinds - just the way he liked it. Jaw grinding against your cunt, chin hitting you with each slutty jerk of your hips, letting you use him all you want to ride through your high. 

And his fingers are digging into your hips, stopping you from pulling away even when you were snow. Even when you’re sobbing in oversensitivity. So painfully good. 

“Ngh- T-Toru–” you’re slurring out, his name thick on your tongue. “M’not gonna cum on your dick if you k-keep hah- acting this way.”

Only then does a pussydrunk Gojo Satoru raise his bleary eyes back up at you. Giving you a strained little grunt of acceptance, before parting ways with your pussy with a lingering, wet kiss on your clit. Barely-audible as he whispers, “Gonna see ya soon.”

You don’t have the time to think about his newfound addiction. Because in all of three seconds, he’s plopping you back down so prettily on his lap. Purposefully feeding your sopping wet slit his weeping red tip. 

“Please.” Gojo’s usually-arrogant grin has fallen into such a pretty pout with one graze of his length sandwiched between your folds. “I did good, right? Please ngh- so I th-think if I made you cum then I get to hah- fuck you how I want.”

And it’s not that you didn’t appreciate it before - but looking at his thick tip pushing up against your cunt right now has you recognizing that shit, Gojo is massive. 

Fat head blushing a pretty reddish, leaking so messily down, down, down those glistening veins at his side and to the creamy ring at his base - from when he’d cum, just from eating you out, you realize with a jolt. His girth so intimidatingly thick, long enough that you know you won’t be walking for a week straight, at least. All throbbing and angry with every second he isn’t buried to the hilt inside your cunt. 

Gojo Satoru is massive. 

“Like what ya see?” he echoes your thoughts, a soaked thumb coming down to pry apart your glossy folds. Grinning at the way your hole was already so needy and clenching around nothing. “Think m’the ngh- perfect size for this pretty pussy?”

Through it all, you find it in yourself to muse, “Only one way to find out. Gonna let me be your first, Toru?”

And then he’s pushing in, shallow, high little gasps bursting from his lips with each inch being bullied into your plush cunt. 

“O-oh fuck-” Gojo can’t stop himself from taking a good look at the way your pussy lips are bulging around him. Jaw dropping at the way your greedy entrance is only sucking him up more and more - trying to bite off more than you can chew with the way he was in so deep but barely even halfway in yet. “S’too good- oh my god- fuck I think m’gonna die. Is it s’pposed to feel th-this good?”

You’re running a hand gingerly through Gojo’s mussed-up hair, smoothing down the sides sticking up where you’d been pulling on it. “S’alright, Toru.” you soothe, letting him grind up into you. Trying to fit more - all of it. “You’ve got it- you’ve hah-”

You let out a pathetic little whine when his tip kisses your cervix, legs flexing around his toned waist. 

“Oh- ohhh fuck-” he’s barely able to string together coherent sentences now. Eyes falling till their half-lidded, body moving before his mind when he pulls yours stuck to his. “S-soo good n’ I haven’t even- oh!” His voice goes a few octaves higher when Gojo finally starts moving. “How can- it feel this good, hng-”

And shit for being inexperienced, he was fucking up into you so mean. Just in short little thrusts up like he was trying to fuck you even deeper - trying to squeeze inside more of himself impossibly. 

“Some- ah- some more, Toru-” 

He listens, and the stretch - fuck. Gojo wasn’t even trying yet, but his girth was already massaging your gummy walls so dizzyingly good. 

“Y-you’re so- ngh-” you graze your lips across his in what can barely be called a kiss. Too messy. Too depraved. “-so deep.” Sliding a hand about midway down your stomach to press down, “Can feel you all the way in here.”

Your words are sticking to Gojo like a second skin, driving him so fucking mad. Hips smacking up into you deep until his heavy balls were slapping your ass, sculpted pelvis crashing into yours.

“Stop talking.“ he spits, “Stop talking stop talking stop- talking.” Each word is punctuated by a desperate, messy stroke. Pushing you further and further up Gojo’s body from the obscene impact. “Stop hah- talking or m’gonna cum.”

He wasn’t lying - you could already feel the twitch of Gojo’ length rubbing up against your hidden sweet spots. The furious throbbing of his veins stretching out your elastic walls. 

And yet you’re still wailing stubbornly, “B-but Toru it feels so good.” Partially truth, partially because when the fuck do you get to see him so utterly wrecked like this. Sanity dancing away from him with each syrupy moan leaving your mouth, “Your cock is too good- ngh- feels-”

“Shut up.”

Gojo can only take that much of your nonsense before he’s stuffing your mean mouth full with a flimsy piece of fabric from somewhere on the bed- no. A strangely familiar pair of panties. 

“Heh, s’much ohhh fuck- better.” he beams with pride when you’re gagging and tearing up so adorably around the light blue fabric. Ramming his cock up harder - stronger, as if daring you to make a little comment about it. “Should’ve ah fuck- known you wouldn’t make it easy f’me.”

As if to prove his point, he gives your ravaged clit a little smack! before teasing and rolling his thumb exactly the way you’d taught him to with his tongue.

And he’s scrambling to sit up, carrying your boneless body with him. 

The new angle has Gojo seeing stars, penetrating your gummy walls deeper, hitting that familiar g-spot he’s mapped out by now. “Here?” he manages to cackle, a big arm wrapping around your waist. “Right here? S’my cock hitting th-that ngh- good spot? Yer pussy is fuuuck so much easier to u-understand than I ah- thought.”

Reeling back to bounce you on his thick cock. Crashing into it again. And again and again and-

Since you can’t snap back - or even beg for more - you only let out muffled little moans through the gag in your mouth. Thighs burning as you push back in pathetic little thrusts to somehow meet Gojo’s mindless cadence.

“Oh yeah?” he drags, leaning back to help you ride him properly. “Yeah yeah do i-it hah- like that. Do it juuuust like that.” A harsh thumb rolls into your clit, making you stutter and grind yourself down messily. “Fuck- Yeah ruin me- ngh- just like that.”

His words were jagged - uneven. Spitting out of his plump lips like he didn’t even know they were every time Gojo’s fat, leaky tip was gliding across your cervix, your g-spot. Leaving possessive little bruises to claim you from the inside out. 

“C-close.” you slur out, not even sure if he could hear over the dull slap of his balls on your ass, and the greedy squelches of your cunt. “More, Toru.”

Yet your sinful, sickly sweet noises have him freezing - if only for a split-second. Pussydrunk eyes going wide, jaw falling slack in such awe. 

But before you can fully appreciate this sight, he’s starting back his depraved thrusts again. Bouncing you harder - faster. Just dragging you along every ridge and bump of his swollen cock. Fingers just a needy blur toying with your poor clit. 

“M-more?” he whines into the crook of your neck, voice breaking at the end. “More. More?” He speaks up, like a mantra. Each word sending you spiraling down Gojo’s merciless cock, Panting, “Ever since you fuck- started rooming w’me, wanted this- wanted you to hah- be my first.” Holding you in such a vice-like grip as he splits you apart on his aching cock. Harder. “You’ve ruined me-” he spits against your lips, big fat tears rolling down his cheeks. “Don’ know how many times I’ve cum to your pretty panties. Ruined me- ruined me- fuck m’so close- ruined me.” Violent, even. 

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same. 

And it’s only taking a few more unsteady jabs into your g-spot before a wave of euphoria is crashing over you. “Hngh-” you spasm in Gojo’s arms, his eyes going wide in wonder when your cunt squeezes him so fucking tight- only to-

“F-fuck!” he whines, connecting your lips to his. Kissing you even with your panties still stuffed into your mouth. And Gojo’s cumming and cumming so hard he doesn’t even think he’s breathing. Intertwining his tongue with yours to muffle his overstimulated moans, wrapping around your sweet slick-soaked panties in the middle. The contrast of his soft tongue with the lazy fabric of your panties only making you milk his poor cock harder. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck- fuck- Take it. Take it, my girl.”

You moan incoherently, going insane at the way he was filling you up with long, thick ropes of cum. Fucking deeper and deeper up into you to paint your plushy walls from the inside. 

“S’all I’ve- ngh wanted.” he murmurs throatily, such a fucking mess now. Face flushed, eyes glassy with tears, drool dripping down the corner of his mouth with the way he was sucking lewdly on your tongue. “You’re all I-I’ve ever wanted.”

Shit, he hasn’t cum this hard in his life.

Finally having had enough of shutting up your smart mouth, Gojo slows down to deep little grinds - still moving. Still trying to hold back his moans at that creamy ring around his hilt, at the globs of seed trickling out of your poor overfilled pussy. 

“Hah- Toru-” you whine when he pries away the fabric in your mouth. Shuddering with the swipe of his finger along your clit, “C-could almost ngh- forgive you…”

“The blue one.”

“What?” you’re staring at him in confusion, and Gojo’s fucked-out grin only spreads wider. 

“That was for the b-blue one.” you gasp when his balls suddenly squeeze so painfully underneath you. Cock jerking in interest, “Y’gonna have me make up for that whole drawer full of panties, sweetheart?”

A/N. VIRGIN GOJO BRAIN ROT GOES BRRRRRRRR

Plagiarism not authorized.

[sleepypanda27]

Friendly Fire

Bucky x reader

Summary: Sam exposes Bucky’s obvious crush on you.

Word: 1,3k

The compound was quiet. Too quiet. Which meant you were about to commit a crime.

Not a real crime, just a tiny one. A harmless, innocent late-night snack raid. You tiptoed into the kitchen, trying not to make a sound, reaching for the cupboard handle.

"Really?"

You turned around, startled, finding Bucky leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, looking very unimpressed.

"You scared the hell out of me!" You hissed, pressing a hand to your chest.

He smirked. "You’re terrible at sneaking."

"I wasn’t sneaking."

"You absolutely were." He smiled, walking closer to you.

You rolled your eyes, turning back to the cupboard. "What are you doing up, anyway?"

"Same thing as you," He admitted, stepping closer. "Figured I’d grab something before Wilson wakes up and lectures me about eating properly."

You chuckled. "Well, now that you're here, you might as well make yourself useful."

He arched a brow. "Useful how?"

You gestured at the top shelf. "Grab that."

He sighed but reached up effortlessly, grabbing cookies you couldn’t get to.

You narrowed your eyes. "Showoff."

Bucky smirked, opening the cookie package, taking one out, and he exaggeratedly slowly took a bite.

"You are the worst," You muttered, grabbing a cookie from the package.

"You love it," He teased.

You snorted, but didn’t deny it. For a moment, comfortable silence settled.

Then Bucky glanced at you with a smirk. "We’re gonna get caught, you know."

You shrugged, taking a bite. "Worth it."

"Wow. Look at this."

Both of you froze.

Slowly, you turned, finding Sam standing in the doorway, arms crossed, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

"Two grown adults, sneaking snacks like criminals," He said, sighing. "Barnes, you should be ashamed."

Bucky groaned, rubbing his temple. "Sam-"

"No, no, don’t ‘Sam’ me." He pointed at both of you. "This is pathetic. You could’ve just eaten like normal people, but no midnight heist. What are you, spies?"

"Well...yeah," Bucky muttered.

Sam ignored that. "And you?" He turned to you, smirking. "Corrupted by Barnes already, huh?"

You sighed, pretending to be apologetic. "Guess I’ve been a bad influence on him."

Sam laughed, shaking his head. "No, no, you got it backwards, sweetheart."

Bucky rolled his eyes, grabbing cookies. "We’re leaving."

"Running from justice, huh?" Sam teased.

Bucky grabbed your wrist, pulling you toward the exit. "We don’t have to listen to him."

"Wait," Sam checked the shelf from which you got cookies. "Are those my cookies?" He called after you. "Thieves!"

You just laughed, following Bucky down the hallway.

---

"You’re terrible at this," Bucky muttered, watching you struggle with the dough. This time, the two of you decided to make cinnamon rolls.

You scoffed, tossing him a glare. "Excuse me?"

He leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "You’re kneading like you’re trying to fight it. It’s dough, not an enemy."

You huffed, turning back to the sticky mess in front of you. "You said I had to be firm!"

"Not aggressive," He corrected. "You look like you’re trying to kill it."

You sighed, rolling your eyes. "Maybe if you actually helped-"

Bucky smirked. "And ruin the entertainment?"

You narrowed your eyes. "You’re enjoying this way too much."

"I absolutely am." He chuckled, stepping closer to you.

Slowly, casually, you scooped up a bit of flour. "You know, for someone who’s supposedly a trained fighter, you’re way too close right now."

Bucky’s brow furrowed. "What?"

And before he could react, you flicked the flour straight at him. It was beautiful. A perfect explosion of white powder across his dark shirt and face. For one glorious moment, he just stood there, processing. Then his expression darkened.

"You," he muttered, wiping flour from his jaw. "Are in so much trouble."

You shrieked, immediately trying to back away, but he moved faster. In an instant, he grabbed a handful of flour and smeared it against your cheek, grinning at your stunned reaction.

"You did not just,"

"Oh, I did."

You lunged for another handful, and just like that, chaos erupted.

Flour flew everywhere onto counters, into hair, across shirts. You were laughing, dodging him, while Bucky, the incredibly skilled fighter, was apparently terrible at avoiding kitchen warfare.

By the time Sam walked in, he stared at the disaster in complete horror. "What the hell happened here?"

You and Bucky were breathless, covered in flour, smirking at each other like two kids who had just gotten caught.

Sam sighed. "I don’t even wanna know. But Barnes," He shook his head, walking out. "Just tell her, man."

"Ignore him." Bucky groaned, dragging a hand down his flour-covered face.

You just laughed, but you wanted to know what he meant.

---

The compound's kitchen was quiet until Sam decided to stir up trouble.

You were sitting across from Bucky at the table, quietly sipping coffee, when Sam decided today was the day to ruin Bucky Barnes' life.

"You know, man," Sam said, leaning against the counter, smirking at Bucky, "you’re not exactly subtle."

Bucky, sitting across from you, froze mid-sip.

You raised an eyebrow. "Subtle about what?"

Sam grinned like a man who lived for chaos. "You."

Bucky’s jaw clenched warningly. "Sam."

You blinked, confused. "Me?"

Sam turned back to Bucky, absolutely enjoying himself. "Look at you, all stiff and silent, pretending you don’t have a full-blown crush sitting right there."

Bucky exhaled sharply, gripping his coffee mug so tightly that you were sure it was seconds away from cracking.

"I do not-" He muttered.

"Oh, buddy," Sam interrupted, shaking his head. "You do. The way you watch her when she walks into the room? The way you get all weirdly protective? And let’s not forget the time you lost your mind when she got hit during training."

Bucky shot up from his chair. "I was concerned!"

"You were dramatic," Sam corrected.

You stared between the two men, heat rising to your cheeks. Bucky Barnes, former assassin, impossible grump, had a crush on you?

Bucky dragged a hand down his face. "Sam, I swear, I will-"

"What?" Sam taunted. "Kill me? Finally admit you like her?"

Bucky looked half ready to commit a crime. But before he could, Sam pushed off the counter, laughing. "Relax, man. I'm just saying that maybe you should stop glaring at me and do something about it."

Then, with an obnoxious wink at you, he walked out. You sat there, awkwardly clutching your coffee cup, very aware that Bucky was still standing.

"...So," you said, glancing at him. "You have a crush on me?"

Bucky groaned. "Ignore Sam. He likes ruining my life."

You smiled. "But…was he wrong?"

Silence.

Bucky rubbed his temple, sighed, and finally looked at you. "I hate him," he muttered. "But no. He wasn’t wrong."

Your heart stuttered.

Slowly, you set your coffee down. "So… what do we do about that?"

Bucky was silent for one long second. He hesitated, but only for a second. Then, he moved.

His hand reached up, fingers grazing your cheek like he was memorizing the feel of your skin. His touch was careful, uncertain, but when his thumb traced the edge of your jaw, you leaned into it. That was all he needed.

He slightly tilted his head, closed the distance, and kissed you. It started soft, hesitant, like he was afraid to break you, but the moment you melted into him, everything changed.

The tension, the months of stolen moments and unsaid words, came crashing down all at once. His lips pressed firmer against yours, his hand slipping to the back of your neck, pulling you closer like he’d been waiting, aching, for this.

And you kissed him back with everything you had, gripping his jacket, letting him swallow the breathless sound you made when he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. The world blurred.

It was just heat, hands, Bucky, the quiet realization that this was exactly where you wanted to be.

"FINALLY!"

You jerked away, breathless, turning toward the hallway where Sam stood, grinning like a damn idiot.

Bucky groaned, burying his face against your shoulder. "I am going to kill him."

You laughed, still catching your breath, still feeling the phantom imprint of Bucky’s lips.

"Took you long enough, Barnes." Sam just shook his head, victorious.

[cosmoszyn]

open arms | zayne.

synopsis: zayne picks you up at the bus station in a downpour, attempting to appease you after a small argument

content: zayne x reader, little hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship, banters, reader is a lil stubborn and hard-headed

word count: 2,684

author's note: lol this is very self-indulgent and ... sawrry it took this long, i was swamped with work and several travels. likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated!

cross posted in my ao3

“Care to explain what you are doing here in the rain?” 

“...No.”

Zayne nearly clicks his tongue at your stubbornness. Instead, he presses the hazard lights in his vehicle and darts his gaze at you again, “Come inside.”

You stare at him with furrowed brows, your arms wrapped around your shivering body with the tiny bus stop shed measly protecting you from the downpour. Zayne seems collected, looking at you expectantly through his glasses from his sleek black Audi, his one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on the passenger seat with its windows rolled down. The offer is tempting enough, especially with the fact that Zayne has set the temperature just as toasty as you wish it would be. 

But the earlier argument from your shared space resurfaces in your brain. Which warrants you to take a step back and look to the other side of the road.

“Don’t wanna,” you persist, folding your arms across your chest.

Your lover swallows thickly at your words, body resuming to driving position and looking straight at the road,  “Alright. Have it your way,” he says, rolling the windows back up.

And for a second, you feel panic rising in your stomach, knowing that you do want to get in the car and be comfortable! Not to mention that you don’t know what time the next bus will arrive as you’ve been stuck in the shed for almost thirty minutes now, so getting inside his car seemed to be the most reasonable option. But Zayne just pisses you off at the moment. 

Until you hear him adjusting the shift gear and the slamming of the car door. Your eyes followed the sound and your gaze was met with Zayne’s hunched back, his left hand doing nothing from shielding his body from the rain, walking around the vehicle. Your hands fall to your sides as he reaches you under the shed and before you can even get a word out, he already has you over his shoulders like a rag doll and within a minute, you were gently placed in the passenger seat of his car.

You couldn’t even protest when he leaned over your space, “You can roll your eyes at me later but I need you to behave now,” he explains, reaching out to the seatbelt and fastening it to your side. “Because if you think I’d let your idiocy and pride win tonight, you must have forgotten who you are dating.” 

You immediately roll your eyes at his words. In response, Zayne presses his two fingers in your forehead, gently pushing it backward, “I said, behave.” 

He didn’t even give you a chance to reply as he is already closing your door and walking to his side. You fold your arms across your chest again, huffing a breath as you look at your window, watching the raindrops patter on the glass.

Within seconds, Zayne settles beside you, his hair and clothes damp from the drizzle. You take a peek of him from your peripheral vision, watching water drip from the tips of hair to his shoulders. As he fastens his seatbelt, you reach out to the glove compartment of his car, and toss him the box of tissues he keeps religiously.

“You’ll get sick,” you mumble under your breath, avoiding his eyes, insisting on staring at the bus stop shed you were under just a couple of seconds ago. And you know for a fact that Zayne’s lips slightly twitch upward in amusement at your attempts to care for him.

“Isn’t someone so caring?” He says, humor lacing his tone as he pulls the tissues, patting himself dry.

You let out a huff, almost sounding like a scoff, “Savor this moment, I guess. It won’t happen again.”

You hear Zayne tossing the tissues at his cup holders by his door, “And someone’s being a little moody too, huh?”

You ignore his comment, continuing to stare ahead at the window with your lips pressed into a thin line. Zayne, on the other hand, could still feel your frustrations and anger directed at him. He shifts the gear of the car and proceeds to accelerate slowly, deft hands carefully pulling away from the curb and driving through the familiar roads.

Minutes of silence engulfed in the vehicle, neither wanting to break the tension bubbling, afraid that it may lead into an argument again. But despite the uncertainty of the situation, Zayne could never seem to find himself staying in this predicament with you. And so, he softly exhales, “Would you like to explain why you were shivering in the rain earlier?” He almost whispers under his breath.

You huff, “I wasn’t in the rain. I was at the bus stop,” you mumble.

Semantics, he wants to say. But he holds off his tongue. “What made you decide to be sarcastic today?” He says playfully, which warrants another roll of your eyes, refusing to even face him.

“Because someone would rather defend an intern for unabashedly flirting with him than side with his girlfriend,” you grumble under your breath, enough for him to hear.

Your lover purses his lips, knowing only himself could be to blame for even trying to make the atmosphere lighter. He dug his own grave at that moment. His fingertips drumming onto the steering wheel as he recalls how the argument came about.

Earlier, Zayne just arrived from a gruelling 12-hour shift at the hospital, ranting about how he had sudden back-to-back emergency surgeries to take care of while he was pressing a kiss to your hair and simultaneously shrugging off his coat and lab gown. You hum in acknowledgment, telling him how you had already prepared him a nice warm bath in his stead. He sighs in appreciation, sluggishly dragging himself to the bathroom to submerge himself into the water.

And as he does so, you decide to clean up after him, picking up his coat and lab gown from the rack to toss into the laundry. However, the moment you sling his clothes in your arms, you manage to whiff a feminine scent deeply ingrained in your boyfriend’s lab coat. You were absolutely certain that it’s not one of your perfumes as you have never worn anything so powerful from the one that you caught and the fragrance seemed to be quite fresh, like it was sprayed prior to his clock-out at work.

Your mind spirals with all the possibilities. You were definite that Zayne would never… entertain another woman when he is in a committed relationship with you. You knew his character inside out and if he wishes to see other people, you knew deep in your soul that he’d rather tell you straight up than beat around the bush. 

You feel your surroundings spinning and your gut twisting at the thought that somebody is doing this to your lover. You take a moment to yourself, carefully sitting down at the couch as you continue to cling onto his clothes. As the seconds ticked into minutes, you barely heard the sound of the bathroom door opening and your boyfriend’s footsteps padding through the hallway of your shared apartment. 

“Darling? Why are you still not in bed?” He calls out, ruffling his hair with his towel.

“Zayne,” you say, and he visibly flinches at the tone of your voice and your lack of endearment. You refuse to look at him, your eyes staring straight ahead.

“Is something the matter, my love?” He asks, confusion written all over his face.

You swallow thickly, glancing up at him, “I need you to be honest with me, Zayne.”

His head slightly cocks to the side, “Is there a problem?”

“Your lab coat smells like a different woman,” you say straightforwardly, staring at him with a blank look that demands an explanation and almost begging that none of this is happening. Zayne scowls at your words, “What?” He muttered, taking the coat from yours and sniffing it. Once he caught a whiff of the familiar aroma, he visibly sighs, rubbing his temples and turning his heel away, “It must be that new intern in our department. She seems too eager to be working with me,” he explains in a flat tone, which would’ve been enough for you on a normal day. But for some reason, the gears in your head just turn. “You do not need to worry yourself over this. It’s nothing,” he continued as he placed his gown in the washing machine.

“Have you done anything to call her behavior out?” You ask, trailing behind him, the frown in your face deepening. Zayne clenches his jaw, pressing into the setting of the washing machine “Is it necessary?”

Suddenly, you felt the rage of all your female ancestors rising within you. “You’re asking me if it’s necessary?” You scoff, folding your arms across your chest, “You’re a smart guy, Zayne. What do you think?” You challenge.

Zayne exhales, “Darling, can I ask you to not do this right now?”

“I just need an answer,” you demand.

His face tightens and he sighs, “I do not think it’s necessary as she is just an intern–”

“Then what about me, Zayne?” You ask, cutting him off, “Are my feelings just… unimportant to you?”

You were certain that you were being a little too much right now, especially knowing that your boyfriend has fatigue creeping up on him after his shift. But there was something in you that felt the need to claw out answers from him, even if it’s in an unhealthy way possible.

“My love, I am serious. I would want to have this conversation another time, please,” Zayne calmly says, almost pleading, the weariness in his face growing evident. And instead of letting the subject go, you huff and walk away, “Fine. Have it your way.”

And being stubborn is one thing you know how to do. Because instead of wrapping yourself under the comforts of your duvet in your shared bed, you grab your blanket and pillow while Zayne is expectantly waiting for you to embrace him for the night and lull himself to sleep with your warmth beside him.

“Darling where are you going–?”

“I am not sleeping with you tonight. I am still upset that you did nothing to call her behavior out.”

You thought Zayne would actually trail behind you and ask you to stop being difficult, using his strength to force you back to bed. But he lets you grumble on the couch, settling yourself underneath the thin blanket that does nothing to warm you up. You toss and turn on the couch, desperate to catch some sleep and a comfortable position but to no avail.

Until you hear careful footsteps padding across the living which elicits a thought from you that maybe he will finally ask you to come back to bed.

You wait for his words as your eyes are screwed shut, pretending to be asleep. Instead, you just hear the front door of your apartment opening and closing.

And in your frustration and anger, instead of following him and asking him to come back home, knowing he just went to the hospital to continue working, you returned the favor. You decided to go to the Hunters Association and finish the paperwork you have been putting off since last week.

Which led you to your predicament of being stuck on the bus stop while the rain poured heavily from the skies.

The car was filled with another minute of silence and he’s finding the right words to say to his lover. In the first place, he was never good with verbalizing his feelings, so being in this dilemma makes him feel a little queasy, especially when this seemed to be the biggest problem you two have encountered as a couple so far.

As he continues to file through his brain on what to say, he decides on a simple thing, “I’m sorry.”

You ignore his words.

“You have every right to be mad at me tonight but all I ask of you is to sleep beside me later,” he said, carefully driving through the slippery streets.

“Bold of you to demand that when you just up and left without a word,” you grumble.

“I had to take care of things,” he replies calmly. And in your head, you were already screaming several sarcastic remarks and rolling your eyes until you were sure you could see your skull. But before you could settle in on a perfect comeback, he speaks up again, “It seems I wasn’t appreciating my girlfriend’s feelings enough that I had to let her go through that emotional turmoil.”

You bite your inner cheek, listening to his words. “And I hope she listens to me tonight and comes home because I have already dealt with a rather… nuisance of a trainee at the hospital. Only to find out from my lover’s colleague that she worked overtime and is shivering in the rain,” he says. 

Finally, you turn your head to meet his gaze, which has been glued the entire time on the road. “You did?” You ask, almost in a whisper.

He merely nods, “I could never live with the fact that you feel insecure in this relationship. It is my job to have you feel assured and safe. And if it meant driving back to the hospital to speak with the intern in the midst of her night shift, I would gladly do so.”

Your bottom lip juts out instinctively as you feel your heart swell in his words, “Zayne…” 

“Besides, I could also never stand living with someone so grumpy and hard-headed to the point where she’d let me sleep alone in the bed.”

“Hey!”

Zayne’s lips slightly twitch upward as he knows you only focused on the first words. The stoplight glows yellow then transitions into a bright red, opting your lover to pause his driving and turn to you, “Is the little grouchy girl finished with her tantrums?”

“I’m not grouchy! My feelings were valid, Zayne,” you huff.

Zayne suppresses his smile as he presses a hand to your cheek, “I know, my love. Your feelings were and are valid. I apologize if it seemed like I wasn’t prioritizing you.”

You release a small sigh, your lips slightly quivering upward at the feelings of his warm hands, “Okay. I’m sorry too, Zayne. I was being a little harsh and forceful.”

“Apology slightly accepted,” he replies, removing his hand from yours, placing it back on the steering wheel.

Your eyes fly open at his words, cocking your head sideways in confusion, “Slightly?”

“Well you do have to compensate me for spending the night chasing you instead of resting, dear,” he says, pushing his glasses upward. You narrow your eyes at him in suspicion as he slowly accelerates the vehicle again, “What kind of compensation?”

Instead of replying to you, his lips break out a wide smile and his right hand taps on his cheek twice while his eyes remain on the road, and his left hand maneuvering the steering wheel effortlessly (which makes you feel things but you ignore it). 

You raise a brow at him “Just a kiss on the cheek?”

Zayne remained silent. Thinking it was nothing, you shrugged and leaned forward, ready to press a kiss to his cheek. But before you can reach the skin of his cheek, he suddenly turns his head, urging you to plant your lips with his momentarily, causing your eyes to widen. He pulls away from the peck, catching a glimpse of your surprised expression with a smug smirk threatening to pull from the corners of his mouth. 

“Zayne, that was dangerous!” You exclaim, your fingertips ghosting over your lips while heat creeps up your cheeks. Instead of replying, your lover merely hums, continuing his drive like nothing happened, eyes glued to the road as he feels you beside him still recover from the fleeting kiss.

“At least I fully accepted your apology, did I not?”

“Even if it cost us our lives?” 

“Oh please my love, don’t be dramatic.”

[anonf1writer]

My Current Boyfriend — LN4 TikTok Trend

hiii i felt bad after giving such a boring answer to this ask so i wrote around 800 words to make it up to you, lovely anon!! it's not much and i wrote it in a rush but i hope you enjoy it! xx

────────────

“Wait!” Lando says as you’re about to start recording the video. 

Rolling your eyes, you stand straight and turn to him, watching him fix his curls for the fifteenth time in the last three minutes. 

“Baby you look fine! Can we please start?”

“I look like I just woke up from a nap on your lap.”

“That’s probably because you actually just woke up from a nap on my lap.” 

Lando doesn’t answer, he just keeps staring at his reflection on the kitchen window and threading his fingers through his hair. 

With a sigh and the tiniest smile, you turn back to your phone and lean down, placing both forearms on the counter and deciding this moment is as good as ever to start the prank on him. 

“What did you just say?”

“Hey guys!” You smile and wave as soon as you start recording. Lando is distracted, but still in the shot as he stands right behind you. “So, I’m at my current boyfriend’s kitchen right now,” you say casually and cheerfully, watching him freeze with both hands on his hair. Your smile grows bigger at that, but you don’t stop yourself, nor the prank, focusing on what you’re saying and trying your best to keep going. “And we’re about to make some pasta for—”

You press your lips together and swallow back your laughter, then tilt your head to watch him over your shoulder. 

Lando is already looking at you, his eyes wide and eyebrows high up on his forehead. 

“What?” you ask. 

“Did you just— Did you introduce me as your current boyfriend?”

“Yeah…”

“On camera,” he says. “You’re making a video. And you’re calling me your current boyfriend on camera.”

“Yes. Was I supposed to call you something different?”

He stares at you for a moment, then shakes his head and drops his arms. 

And just like that, he walks away. 

“Lando, c’mon!” you chuckle, a tiny part of you feeling guilty for making him feel bad enough to the point of storming out of the kitchen. “Come back here…”

He doesn’t answer, but he also doesn’t take too long to come back. In fact, you don’t even have time to stop the video before he’s already walking straight to you. A frown on his face and eyes on his phone.

“Current,” he says, pausing to clear his throat and then quickly speaking again. “Adjective. Belonging to the present time. Happening or being used or done now.”

He purses his lips and nods, as if processing the information he just read. 

You blink, and the smile on your face turns into a grin. You want to know where this is going, so there’s no way you’re going to interrupt him now. 

“I mean,” he says to his phone, and then, without even glancing at you, he looks up to the counter where the video is still recording and adds straight into the camera, “I guess I do belong to the present time. And I am being used right now. Although I don’t know what for. But I’m clearly being used for something here. And ok, it’s not happening right now, but I was being done earlier today when—”

“Oh my God!” You drop your jaw and laugh, stepping toward him and placing both hands on his mouth as soon as you realize what he was about to say. “Lando!”

Still ignoring you, he places his hands on your wrists and pulls them away from his mouth. 

“So yeah, I am the current boyfriend,” he says to the camera, hugging you while also forcing your arms behind your back, and stepping forwards while also guiding you to step backwards. “But just to be clear, I’m also the past boyfriend and the future boyfriend.”

At this point, you don’t fight him anymore. You just drop your head back and laugh at the ceiling, letting him cage you against the counter and between his legs. 

“Bold of her, or anyone else, to assume there’ll ever be a next one after me.” He crosses his arms around your back and talks over your shoulder, still focusing on the camera. Always focusing on the camera. “Don’t let her fool you. It’s husband material here. She’ll eventually put a ring on it.”

You gasp. “I’ll put a ring on it?” 

“Down on one knee, asking me to be hers forever…”

You raise your brows and purse your lips, holding back a smile. 

“She loves me. She can’t resist this face. Or this charm. So yeah, I might be the current boyfriend, but I’m also the only current one.”

“And the forever one,” you add with a whisper, then lean in to press a kiss to his cheek.

“And the forever one,” he repeats with a nod, right before stretching his arm to stop the video and just as he turns his face to press a kiss on your lips.

────────────

[sixeyesonathiel]

testing a whisker away au...

satoru didn’t mean to get himself into this mess.

he really didn’t. it was just a stupid mask. a stupid little thing some weird old man shoved into his hands after school, rambling about “understanding people better” and “second chances.” satoru had just wanted to shut the guy up, so he took it. that’s all it was supposed to be. something he’d forget about by the next morning, just another weird story to tell his friends.

except now he’s here. in your arms. as a cat.

it all started two weeks ago when you found him outside your apartment, soaked from the rain, tiny and shivering in his ridiculous little cat body. his usually snow-dusted fur was plastered to his thin frame, heavy and dripping, his bright cerulean eyes wide and frantic as his tail sagged, dragging pitifully along the wet pavement. 

every step he took was slow and miserable, his tiny body trembling from the cold. he tried to run away. he really did. but you crouched and called out to him so gently, so sweetly, your voice soft like the first light of morning, hesitant but warm. “come here, little guy,” you had whispered, your hand outstretched, patient and steady, fingertips trembling just slightly in the cold.

he hesitated. his ears flattened. but the sound of your voice—soft, careful, kind—reached him in a place he didn’t know existed. his paws betrayed him. his feet dragged him forward.

and satoru—in a moment of catastrophic weakness—let himself be scooped into your arms.

worst mistake of his life.

(but maybe also the best.)

because now you’re feeding him. petting him. babying him. brushing his fur with delicate fingers that linger just behind his ears, scratching that one spot that makes his little cat body go embarrassingly limp, his paws twitching with each pass. satoru comes to you every night now as shiro, curling into your lap, pressing his face into your stomach as your hand combs through his fur in slow, absentminded strokes that leave him dangerously close to purring.

you talk to him. you smile at him. you let your guard down around him in a way you never do with human satoru.

it’s driving him absolutely insane.

in class, he plays the fool. the class clown. he’s loud and annoying and relentless, dragging his chair across the floor with a screech just to sit backward beside you. his arms drape lazily over the backrest, his grin crooked and stupidly bright, his messy white hair flopping over his forehead, never quite behaving, always slightly tousled like he’d run a hand through it too many times.

“g'morning, sunshine,” he chirps with that same sparkle in his cerulean eyes, his voice obnoxiously sweet, though a little too rehearsed to be natural.

“you’re in my light,” you murmur without sparing him a glance, flicking the corner of your notebook to flip the page as if his presence is nothing more than background noise. your fingers are steady, your expression unmoved.

satoru sprawls across your desk like he owns the space. “you mean your life,” he quips, lips curled, searching—desperate—for even the tiniest twitch of amusement.

you shove his forehead away with the blunt end of your eraser, your gaze steady and bored. “you’re genuinely not funny.”

his heart cracks in half, but his grin doesn’t falter. “ouch. that stings,” he mumbles dramatically, clutching his chest like you’ve mortally wounded him.

he tries again. every day, he tries again.

he imitates the teacher’s voice under his breath when you’re not looking, makes stupid hand puppets with the shadows on your desk, draws idiotic little comics of stick-figure students battling kaiju on your worksheets—each comic more elaborate than the last, some of them featuring a stick-figure version of him heroically saving a stick-figure version of you.

nothing.

not even a twitch.

he balances a pencil on his upper lip and crosses his eyes, wobbling slightly to keep it from falling. when the room falls silent, he waggles his brows at you like he’s performing for an audience of one.

nothing.

you don’t even glance his way.

“are you seriously this immune to me?” he groans, letting his head thunk against the desk beside your elbow, his hair a messy curtain over his eyes, the tips brushing the edge of your notebook. he cranes his neck to peek up at you, his lips pressed into a dramatic pout.

“completely,” you answer flatly, your pen idly tapping against your notebook’s margin as you sketch out a half-hearted doodle of what appears to be a cat.

his heart skips pathetically. it’s shiro. it’s him. it has to be. but you don’t know. you’re drawing him and you don’t know.

“but you secretly like me,” he prods, trying to keep the desperation from leaking into his voice, his grin lopsided, playful but hiding something quieter beneath it.

“i don’t,” you deadpan, tilting your chin toward the window, your gaze trailing after the drifting clouds as if they’re infinitely more worth your time.

but when he's shiro? oh, you practically melt.

it's like you transform into a completely different person when he's in that tiny, fluffy body. your touch, usually distant and dismissive in class, becomes soft and lingering, your fingers combing through his fur in slow, deliberate strokes that make his tail flick lazily. you cradle him to your chest like he's something precious, something irreplaceable, and he feels the quick, steady rhythm of your heartbeat against his ear.

sometimes you press your nose against the top of his head, nuzzling into the soft, snowy fur as if he's the only one who understands you. you murmur to him in quiet, sleepy tones, whispering little secrets that never leave the circle of your arms. he gets to see the way your eyelids flutter closed in peace, how the sharp edges of your expression soften until you are someone he has never been allowed to see in the daylight.

in class, you’re all cold glances and sharp replies, the walls around you built high and thick. you act like his presence is a nuisance, like you’re immune to his antics, like you could never spare him more than a flick of your pencil in irritation. but when he’s shiro, you giggle so easily, you hold him like he matters, you sigh like he’s your only source of comfort.

and he abuses it. oh, he abuses it shamelessly.

sometimes he deliberately bumps his little head against your chin or your cheek, rubbing against you with deliberate, exaggerated affection. he does it often, batting his head against your face until you have no choice but to giggle and scritch behind his ears.

“clingy little thing,” you murmur with a helpless smile, rubbing slow circles on his head as he bumps his nose against your jawline again, as if demanding more. he relishes it. he leans into it. he does it again and again just to feel you hold him tighter, to hear you sigh his name in that sweet, breathy way that drives him absolutely mad.

it's not just the way you hold him—it's the way you breathe around him. slow. steady. like the world stops spinning for a moment when it's just you and him.

“people are so exhausting,” you murmur one night, your voice barely above a whisper, your breath warm against his fur. the exhaustion drips from your words, weighing them down, but your fingers never stop their gentle tracing behind his ears, each pass coaxing a quiet, reluctant purr from his throat. “but you're different, shiro. i think you're the only one i can stand.”

he wants to scream. he wants to cry. he wants to bite the wall. he wants to shake you by the shoulders and tell you that he is right there. he is the one sitting beside you in class, making stupid jokes and drawing dumb comics on your worksheets. he is the one dragging his chair next to yours, pestering you until you threaten to staple his shirt to the desk. he is the same person. it's him. it's literally him. why do you like the cat but hate the boy? what kind of cruel joke is this?

“it's not fair,” he whines dramatically, burying his face into your chest, his tiny paws pressing at your shirt with pitiful little taps, his snowy fur fluffing up in frustration. his fluffy tail curls and uncurls, betraying his misery. 

you don’t understand. you just giggle, scritching under his chin, your fingers dancing across his jaw in that spot that makes his ears twitch and his resolve crumble.

“aww, don't be grumpy, shiro,” you coo, your voice dripping with fondness, and your smile is so soft he thinks he'll die from it. “you know i love you.”

he lets out a pained meow, his tail flicking in miserable little swishes, his head pressing deeper into your shirt like he can bury himself there and never come out. you love him. you love him but not him. you love the cat, not the boy. he is a loser living a double life and he didn't even mean to. he just wanted to make you smile. just once. but now he’s made you laugh, made you open your heart, made you tell him things you would never dare to say to his face.

now he's addicted.

he finds himself pacing around the corners of your street at dusk, waiting for you to come home, just so he can follow you upstairs and hear you hum while you set out his food. he lingers in your room, curled up by your pillow long after you've fallen asleep, listening to the soft rhythm of your breathing. he comes back again and again, night after night, because he can't stop.

how is he supposed to go back from this? how is he supposed to act normal when you're pouring your heart out to shiro but telling satoru to choke?

[ikeukiss]

BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM | 심재윤

⟢ PAIRING: sim (jake) jaeyun x fem!reader ⟢ WORD COUNT: 10.2K ⟢ GENRE: fluff, angst, smut ⟢ TAGS: badboy!au, innocent!reader, opposites attract, sexual tension, corruption kink, dirty talk, fingering, oral (m + f receiving), 69, pet names (baby, angel, etc.), face sitting, protected sex. ⟢ SYNOPSIS: Just because there's a new and seemingly bad influence in your small town, it doesn't mean you have to fall privy to his charms, no matter how beautiful he is. But when he takes notice of you, none of the gossiping wine moms can stop him from getting what he wants. ➸ shoutout to @kwanisms and @mini-mews for helping this fic come to fruition, ily guys sm and this is genuinely one of my favorite pieces ive ever written aaa.

“Have you heard about the new family who moved into town? The son is a real piece of work!”

“He’s twenty-one but acts like he’s still sixteen on that damn motorcycle. No class or consideration whatsoever!”

“Maybe they’ll keep him in check if they decide to come to church this weekend. You know Reverend Park has no time for miscreants and delinquents.”

The familiar crowd on your mother’s front porch greets you as you’re attempting to exit the house. They cool themselves off with their makeshift fans and drink your mother’s homemade lemonade in the Saturday sun, continuing to harp on the locals in town that they’ve known for years.

Somewhere in their conversation, they drifted to the topic of the new family that moved in across the street. Three days was all it took for them to begin spouting their judgemental observations, every act from the new middle-aged couple and their son fodder for their discussion.

You smile politely with every fiber of your being, despite your instincts to snap at them and be on your merry way. If only they knew how ironic they are, pointing fingers at others from their high horses when the town kept enough space for their dirty little secrets. “Nice to see you this morning, ladies.”

They say your name with grace, their tones all air with little substance. “On your way to bible study?” Mrs. Choi asks, gazing at you from the rim of her glass.

You shake your head. “Just tutoring.”

“With the Nishimura boy? What a sweet kid.” When Riki’s name leaves Mrs. Lee’s lips, all the women hum in agreement. “Such a bright future ahead of him.”

“Of course, as long as he passes English,” you joke. The women’s faces don’t change, not taking your teasing with an ounce of anything but seriousness. The bags under their eyes, lipstick smudged in the tiny corners of their teeth, and piercing attitudes begin to damper your excitement for the day. You bid them goodbye quickly with another smile, walking down the stairs and onto the path down the street.

As you turn down the sidewalk, still hearing the resounding chatter from the women, your thoughts run wild. Is this what life would be like when you were older, doing nothing but kicking your feet up on a neighbor’s porch with only other people’s business to fill your time? Spending endless days and nights at church, listening to the same sermons leave Reverend Park’s lips until you become as overly critical as they all are?

The screech of tires halts your thoughts in their place. “Watch it!” A young man’s voice pierces the morning air, making you step back even further. You hadn’t realized how far you had walked into the road until you were back on the safety of the sidewalk. You trip on a crack between the two slabs of concrete, falling backwards and meeting the ground hard.

“Shit, are you okay?” He takes his helmet off, immediately hooking it to his handlebars to check on you.

Sim Jaeyun.

You had not met him formally until this moment, but the motorcycle and undeniable looks gave away his status as your new neighbor. Your parents had decided to let the new family settle in before trying to visit and introduce themselves. If they could see you now, your maxi skirt hitched up to your knees and the boy barely a foot away from you, they would have had a field day.

Sure, you both are of age. Butlike Mrs. Choi, Mrs. Lee, and other local townsfolk always do, people will talk about such a compromising position if you aren’t careful.

All those thoughts fade away though when Jake kneels beside you, his face flooded with concern. His eyes linger on the broken skin on your legs and then across your flushed face. “Does it hurt?”

You shake your head. “It’s barely a scratch. Sorry I almost ran into you.”

“More like almost ran into my bike.” He laughs, his expression one of relief as well as humor. “I’m just glad you’re in one piece.”

“Thank the lord.” You brush your hands on your skirt and begin to stand up, but Jake grabs you by the hand to help, taking all your weight with him.

“Thank you,” you say, brushing the free hair from your braid out of your face.

“You’re welcome.” He unclips his helmet from the bar and gestures back to his bike. “I can drive you to wherever you’re going if you want. I don’t have a second helmet, but–”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes your lips, the thought of riding on the back of a motorcycle too ridiculous to envision given your status as the deacon’s daughter. What would people say?

Jake just furrows his brows, his lips turning up at the corners. “Is my offer that funny?”

“No,” you say, “I would love to, it’s just–”

“Sim Jaeyun!” The shrill sound of Mrs. Choi’s voice makes you take another step away from Jake, unaware you were as close as you were to him. His presence seems to be magnetic, just like his smile. “Stay away from her or so help me God!”

Jake turns to the old woman down the road and nods his head, trying to be respectful but clearly irritated from her meddling. “Yes ma’am,” he yells, stepping back and getting closer to his bike.

“Maybe another time,” Jake says, “when you’re not flocked by the whining wine moms.”

You laugh and nod. “Maybe.”

Jake rides away on his bike, the wispy ends of his hair your last picture of him before he makes a sharp turn at the end of your street.

“Why do I need to learn this?” Riki groans, laying his head flat against his desk. The church bells ring as he knocks his head in the same rhythm against the polished wood.

“Because you need to be able to interpret text if you want to go off to college, Nishi. Otherwise you’ll be illiterate and an embarrassment to the entire town!” You put on your best harping, disapproving voice. It makes Riki laugh as he lifts his head. You’re glad at least the younger kids appreciate your sense of humor, unlike the older brood flooding your hometown.

“Alright, fine.” He opens his copy of Heart of Darkness, beginning to read the page in front of him. “I avoided a vast artificial hole somebody had been digging on the slope…”

A knock on the classroom door makes you and Riki turn. Yeri opens it with a shy grin, saying your name with the same nature. “Someone’s here to see you!”

“Who?”

“Some cute guy on a motorcycle? But don’t tell Jungwon I said that!” She runs back out the door and leaves you puzzled. Surely it’s not Jake. You just met him; he wouldn’t make the effort to try and follow you to your tutoring session, especially at the church of all places.

You head to the window to see Jake sitting against his bike, looking around at his surroundings. He’s wearing the same leather jacket and gray jeans, his white shirt marked with several spots of sweat. Riki comes up behind you, making a sound of acknowledgement. “Oh, that’s Jake!”

“Jake?” You look closer. “I thought his name was Jaeyun.”

“Yeah, but I call him Jake.” He laughs. “He’s my cousin.”

You nod your head, taking in his words. Jake’s sudden move made a lot more sense, seeing as Riki’s mother was getting sicker every day. She must have needed some help from her family to not only manage her household, but make sure Riki stayed on track.

“He probably wants to see you. Yeri must’ve gotten it all mixed up.”

Riki grabs his phone, scrolling through texts with his thumb. “Actually, he did mention almost running over a cute girl on his way to work.” The young boy smirks. “I’m gonna assume that’s you?”

You blush, the flush on your cheeks making you feel hot. “Whatever. He’s probably just picking you up!”

“I brought my own bicycle, dude. And as cool as Jake is, his driving makes me nauseous.” Riki begins packing up his belongings on the desk as you wonder what Jake would want to say that hadn’t already been said earlier. Surely he had no interest in talking to you beyond another apology for almost killing you earlier, not that you would have noticed.

As your thoughts continue on, you barely hear Riki’s parting words. “Have fun making out with my cousin!”

You venture outside and are greeted to Jake’s soft smile as he looks you over. “Didn’t expect you to be teaching my cousin how to read.”

You laugh. “When would that have come up? Before or after I fell face-first on the sidewalk?”

“Technically, you fell on your ass.” He looks over the cuts on your leg again. “Still doesn’t hurt?”

“Barely remember it.”

“Damn. Didn’t realize I was so forgettable,” he teases. You shuck your backpack over your shoulder, pretending his joke didn’t land. But you can’t help how your mouth curves into a grin. “Wanna take me up on that ride now? I don’t see any wine moms in sight.”

Being clear headed and not in the midst of a compromising position, you take a better look at Jake. He may look rugged from the neck down, muscles standing out through his jacket, but his face is incredibly youthful and vulnerable without a touch of hardness. Maybe the wine moms had gotten it wrong; maybe Jake’s actually a stand-up guy bundled up in a lot of leather.

Before you can answer, your father seems to appear from thin air. He wraps his arm around your shoulder. “Mr. Sim, pleasure to meet you officially.”

Your father holds out his hand for Jake, and Jake takes it with a steadfast grip. “Nice to meet you too sir. My mother was telling me how much you’ve been helping my aunt since she can’t attend services anymore.”

“Akemi is a pillar of our church. It’s only right to take care of one of our own as the deacon.” Your father squeezes you tighter to his side. “Glad to see you and my daughter have met. I hope she’s made a good impression upon you.”

“Yes sir. Very much so.” He smiles in your direction. The dimple in his cheek makes your heart flutter in your chest, the butterflies undeniable.

“Well, please tell your parents to come to ours soon for dinner. It would be a pleasure.” Your father begins the quick walk to his car, the silent request for you to follow him clear in his stern posture. You give Jake an apologetic smile before you leave, hoping your eyes hold the promise of taking him up on that ride someday.

When you’re both out of earshot and in the confines of your father’s car, he turns to you with a frown. “Do not get yourself involved with that boy. He doesn’t strike me as very forthcoming.”

You stutter out an excuse. Surely the first day of knowing Jake wouldn’t be the last. “F-Father–”

“Listen to me, sweetie. I know what I’m talking about.” He starts the car and begins the drive home, tightening his fists on the steering wheel. “I mean it. Do not see that boy again.”

The next morning, you’re sitting in one of the front pews with your mother, Yeri, and her mother. You see your fellow townsfolk in attendance in the other pews, Jungwon being one of them, Yeri’s longtime boyfriend. Mrs. Choi and Mrs. Lee look like they are partially focused on the attendees, but also on their own gossip.

All of you are dressed in your best outfits, your hair wrapped in a bun to maintain the peak of modesty. It doesn’t seem particularly realistic for a higher power to be judging you for your hairdo, but you gave in to your mother’s ridiculous requests as always. “We are important people in this community, darling,” your mother said as she stuck the umpteenth bobby pin in your hair. “If they can’t trust us, who can they trust?”

Riki sits behind you, his pew empty save for him. When you offer the empty spot next to you before the procession starts, he shakes his head. “Jake and his folks will be here any second.”

Your gut tightens, the words of your father playing over in your head. You know you have to heed his orders at all times, but the excitement you feel at the prospect of seeing Jake is unavoidable.

A minute before your childhood friend Heeseung sits at the piano to play the beginning of How Great Is Our God, Jake and his family walk inside. Jake’s impeccably dressed, clad in a red dress-shirt and suit pants. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing a handful of tattoos you didn’t notice the day prior. He has his mother’s arm in one hand and a bible in the other, looking completely out of place but incredibly mesmerizing.

He winks at you when he sits down, making you turn your head back to your friend at the piano. You follow in your mother’s and Yeri’s lead, singing alongside them and forgetting the new buzz in your veins. You can feel his eyes on you throughout the songs and sermons, and you should say that you don’t enjoy it, but you don't kid yourself. His attention makes your body tingle in all the right and wrong ways.

You excuse yourself in the intermission, walking outside until you’re a good ten paces away from the church. You take several pins out of your hair, grunting. The incessant tools had been scratching your scalp uncomfortably for the past three hours, and it feels like freedom taking them out one at a time.

It isn’t that you don’t believe in a higher power or the teachings your father and Reverend Park have supplied you with your entire life. The town is just too suffocating on days like these, setting you up to feel like you aren’t good enough no matter how hard you try every day to perfect yourself.

The fashion show of your humble, presentable outfit, the whispered chatter from your community, the watchful eyes of holy men. They all make your skin crawl, that itch only intensifying with every day that passes. How could you stay in such a small room for years and feel misunderstood by everyone? 

Jake saunters up to you, making you gasp in surprise. “Jesus Christ!”

He smirks, hands stuffed in his pockets. “I thought you weren’t supposed to say his name in vain.”

You shrug, smiling in relief to find it’s just him and nobody else. No-one to meddle, judge, or question your absence. “I’ll just say a few words of penance. I’m sure he’ll forgive me.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked you.” Jake chuckles and steps closer to you, his eyes lingering on your dress. It’s incredibly modest, the only skin showing high above your cleavage. but the look in his eyes still makes your nerves tremble.

 You wonder what thoughts are swimming in his head and if a majority of them are impure. Would it be so wrong to confess that you feel the same? That whatever he’s imagining mirrors your own fantasies ten times over?

“The updo doesn’t suit you,” he says finally.

You giggle and cross your arms. “It doesn’t, huh?”

He steps closer, so close you can feel his breath on your skin. It lingers across your neck and shoulder blades. You shudder, hoping he doesn’t notice how his presence affects you. He reaches behind you and takes hold of the hair tie keeping your bun together. He expertly undoes it, your hair falling in waves around your shoulders.

Before he walks away, the church bells signaling the recommencement of the procession, he whispers in your ear, “Much more breathtaking with your hair down, angel.”

The next time you see Jake, he’s across from you at your family’s dinner table, all laughs with Jungwon and Yeri as your father passes out the rest of the side dishes. Riki is also there, discussing his mother’s treatment with your mother and Jake’s parents.

You can’t help the way your eyes attach to Jake across from you. It’s almost a form of punishment that you were made to sit in such close proximity, the weight of his stare on you swallowing you whole.

The feeling of his hand in your hair, his mouth against your ear–it was all so incredibly inappropriate. You shouldn’t have thought about that day last week with such excruciating frequency, but you did. You thought about it when you heard the wine moms whispering about Jake on your porch, when Yeri and Jungwon talked about him as you studied, and when you were alone at night. 

In your dreams, it was even more painful. In a perfect world, he would take his hand from your hair and keep it on your neck, holding you close. He would move his lips from the shell of your ear to the side of your neck, kissing and tasting what skin was available to him in that moment to make you come undone.

Yes, sitting across from him is torment. But the alternative is worse, not seeing him at all and having to conjure images of him alone in the quiet of your bedroom.

“Deacon, sir,” Jungwon pipes up from his spot next to Jake, addressing your father directly. “I was going to study with Jaeyun and Yeri at my house if you wouldn’t mind your daughter tagging along.”

The muscle in your father’s jaw clenches. He’s clearly unhappy with one of the attendees being Jake, but he hides it behind a smile. “It’s up to her. What do you think, sweetie?”

On one hand, you should absolutely say no. Jake may take you into a random spot of Jungwon’s house and make any resolve you still have disappear with the flick of his wrist. Even in the company of your friends, you know no place is safe when he’s around and close to you. And were you willing to crumble so easily?

At the same time, the distance is eating away at you. You can’t take another charged glance in your direction, words unspoken but begging to be released. If you have to catch his bedroom eyes on your body one more time, you may just snap in front of everyone, and care little when you do.

“Sure. I’d love to, Wonie,” you say with a grin. “Nishi, you want to come too?”

Riki shakes his head, enjoying the fruitcake your mom set out. “I’ll stay. Someone has to help clean up.” Jake’s mom squeezes one of his cheeks. Riki’s face suddenly turns pink from his aunt’s affection, making everyone laugh.

On your way out the door, your father catches you by the arm. He whispers, “No later than midnight. Understood?”

On the cusp of 10 PM, you want to protest that time with your friends is already so limited, but you obey with a nod and walk out the door. 

When you get in the backseat of Jungwon’s car, Jake too comfortable beside you, you feel your body flicker to life. “So,” you say, “your house then, Won?”

Yeri and Jungwon laugh, a conspiratory look in both of their eyes. “We’re just gonna make a quick stop first.”

Kiss ‘Em Creek was the unofficial name of the lake that ran through your town, a spot for teenagers to spend a few hours alone with their friends or partners. It wasn’t scientifically-correct, but it stuck nonetheless, many of the locals taking advantage of the not-so-secret hideaway. What went on there you only heard about through Yeri and the wine moms’ conversations, their voices littered with disappointment and condemnation.

Jungwon parks his car and turns his eyes to meet yours in the rearview mirror, that scheming smile still playing on his lips. “Ready to take a dip?”

Your eyes widen. You shake your head at a rapid pace, making your friends and Jake chuckle. “No way,” you say.

“C’mon babe, live a little!” Yeri winks and exits the car, Jungwon hot on her heels. The two of them begin to strip to their underwear, eager to jump in the water together. Jungwon picks her up in a bridal carry, Yeri laughing the entire way as he takes the first step into the awaiting lake.

As the two lovebirds continue heading towards the water, you and Jake sit in comfortable silence, your heartbeat slowly rising at the prospect of being alone in the car together. No distractions, no disappointed parents, no judgemental hags. Just the two of you under a cloud of stars and beautiful moonlight.

“I didn’t know if you would come tonight,” Jake says, filling the silence with a quiet chuckle. “Thought you were avoiding me at all costs, like I’m some kind of plague.”

“No!” You turn in your seat to face him. His expression is teasing but holds undercurrents of disappointment, clearly confused where your feelings lie. And he has every right to feel that way. One minute you’re wishing he would pull you closer, and the next you feel it’s better he keeps his distance. “I just don’t know what your intentions are.”

His eyes darken and his lips curve into a beautiful but intimidating smile. “Is it not obvious?”

You squeeze your thighs together, a wave of heat spreading through your bones. “Maybe I just want you to say it out loud.”

He scoots closer to you, his chest a heartbeat away from yours. “Well, to start,” he says, “I would really like to kiss you.”

You smile. A breathless laugh leaves your lips, eager to know what it would feel like to touch his mouth to yours. “I’d like that too.”

Jake runs a hand through your hair and rests it on your cheek. His touch is as fragile as the tension between you. “Then what are you so afraid of?”

You shut your eyes, trying to come up with the right words and falling short. “It’s just everyone–”

“Fuck everyone else.” He forces you to look into his eyes, the words leaving his mouth being some of the truest ones you’ve ever heard in your life. “You’re not a bad person or a sinner for wanting what you want.”

“I know that.”

“You may know it but you don’t believe it.” Jake’s lips ghost over yours, his breath tickling your cheeks. “Stop thinking about what everyone else thinks of you. Think of yourself for once.”

Maybe Jake’s right. All of your choices in life have been dictated by what your parents, friends, and total strangers have felt. If you listened to your own heart, you would have left all of them in the dust by now, chasing what you really wanted far away from this place.

At the same time, you’re glad to be in this car with Jake. He’s so close to you, telling you to take the leap and choose yourself for the first time in a long time.

When you press your lips to his, the feeling of his mouth on yours soft and tentative, you know you can’t wake up tomorrow the same person. This choice will ripple into all the choices you make from this moment on, but you don’t seem to care.

All that matters is his mouth, taking more control and setting a fire deep in your belly. He presses his tongue to the juncture of your lips, diving inside without protest.

You moan into his mouth, feeling one hand firmly pressed on your neck as the other runs down your shirt to squeeze at your breast through your clothes.

“Fuck, tell me to stop,” Jake says with a heady whisper, still kneading your breast with his palm. “Tell me to stop if you don’t want this.”

You shake your head, moving closer to him to the point you’re halfway on his lap, legs intertwined with his. “So help me God, don’t stop now.”

He snickers, pecking your lips again. “You said his name in vain again.”

You roll your eyes as he chuckles into your neck. “That wasn’t the first thing on my mind.” You move your lips to his cheek. “Or the second.” They trail down to his neck, taking your fantasies and etching them into his skin. “Or third.”

“Fuck,” Jake curses, holding you tight against him. “You’re too good at this.”

You smirk. “Contrary to popular belief, you’re not the first person I’ve ever kissed.”

He laughs, the rumble of it vibrating against your mouth. “I don’t care as long as you keep kissing me.”

“Wasn’t planning on stopping.” By the time you reattach your mouth to his, you’re straddling his lap. His hands are nestled on the small of your back, wanting to inch down further but unsure where or what your boundaries are.

You take the initiative, suddenly bold, and put both of his palms on your backside. “If you wanted to touch my ass, you could’ve just said so.”

Jake licks his lips, his accent coming out in a husky whisper. “I want to touch you in a lot of places. Your ass just happens to be easily accessible right now.”

“Oh really?” You giggle. “Care to enlighten me?”

Jake sharply switches positions, your back against the expanse of the backseat as he towers over you. He rubs his hands across the outside of your thighs, eager but patient. “Gladly.”

He kisses your neck, suckling and licking with perfect pressure, making you whimper. “Jaeyun,” you say out loud, his name coming out like a question more than a statement.

“Use your words, angel. Tell me what you want.” His eyes pass over your face, your kissable lips and lust-blown irises. You’re too entrenched in him now to walk away from this car the same girl, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

It may end badly, crash and burn completely like everyone expects it to, but that’s the last thing you care about right now.

“I want you to touch me.” You take one of his hands on your thighs and place it over your underwear, its center damp.

“Jesus,” he says in wonder, rubbing his fingers against the cotton.

“You just said–oh,” you stop short when you feel Jake’s fingers against your clit. The sensation makes you buck your hips up into him, him discovering the bundle of nerves without trying hard. He’s clearly happy at the wetness he finds. He rubs your folds in the same fashion, biting down on his bottom lip hard.

“You feel so good already. So perfect,” he whispers, taking hold of your lips again with his own while he swirls his fingers in and around your essence. He switches between teasing your clit and rubbing along your pussy, his movements lewd yet graceful. Only when he puts a finger inside of you do you gasp and look at him directly, your eyes clearly giving away your fear.

“What’s wrong, angel? Did I do something?” Concern floods his face, but he doesn’t take his hand away.

“I’ve never gone this far,” you confess, looking to your side to hide your embarrassment.

“Hey, look at me.” He turns your head to face him again, fingers laying under your chin softly. “We can stop now if you want. I don’t want you to feel pressured into doing anything you don’t want to do.”

His response makes your heart clench. Most guys, you’d imagine, would be pissed off or pleading with you to continue on, to do what they wanted and enjoy the moment. That was how Jongseong was, pouting the entire time after you told him to pump the brakes on your makeout sessions.

Somehow, with Jake, it feels right to continue. You suddenly have no anxiety clouding your thoughts or expectations weighing on your heart. You kiss his lips tenderly and shake your head. “No, I want this. I want you.”

A cheshire-cat grin spreads across his face before he goes in for another kiss. He runs his tongue along the inside of your mouth as his finger slides across your folds once again. He plunges it deep inside of your heat, your body adjusting to the new sensation with surprising ease.

You thrash lightly underneath him, matching the tempo of his finger with abandon. He slips another digit in, groaning at the feeling of your soft, gummy walls becoming accustomed to him. “You’re taking my fingers so well, angel. ‘S fucking incredible.”

You gasp and feel the fire from earlier heightening in intensity, spreading from your belly into the other seams of your body. It makes your toes curl and your hand press against one of the doors of Jungwon’s car, needing something to clutch onto while feeling yourself losing what’s left of your control.

“Jaeyun, I think I–”

“I know baby,” he says, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You’re going to feel so good in a second, I promise. Don’t be afraid.”

His thumb makes contact with your neglected clit, rubbing in rapid motions as he pumps his fingers faster in and out of you. You suddenly become overloaded with pleasure; its immensity is something you’ve never felt before. You feel it coat the back of your mouth and take what’s left of your rational senses, your body moving on its own accord as you ride out what’s remaining of your orgasm.

You blush furiously when you come back down to earth, giggling like a schoolgirl as Jake kisses your sweat-drenched cheek. “That was…amazing.”

Jake chuckles, a smirk painting his features. “You’re amazing.”

You tuck your face in your hands, embarrassed but still enraptured by what you just experienced. He pulls one hand away, taking it in his own, his expression suddenly shy. “So, I guess this is the part where I ask you on a proper date.”

You laugh and sit up, placing your panties back around your hips and adjusting your skirt. “I would hope so!”

Jungwon and Yeri choose that moment to run back into the car, their hair drenched but their bodies properly dressed once again. Jungwoon looks at the two of you in the backseat and grimaces. “Not in my car, man!”

Despite the warnings from your parents and the wine moms, you and Jake had become inseparable within a month’s time. It took many late-night impromptu meetings and secret rendezvous to keep your relationship private, but you had succeeded thus far. And it only made the moments you both shared that much more special.

Riki had kept your secret, keeping his eyes out for any prying townsfolk and covering for his cousin and you if need be. Yeri and Jungwon also cheered you on from the shadows, hoping one day you could be public like they were without criticism.

Sitting in the field near the lake, a picnic blanket set across the grass, you have your head in Jake’s lap while he absentmindedly turns strands of your hair into miniature braids. It’s a beautiful Wednesday afternoon, the two of you occupying the resounding forest with no outside influences.

“Have I told you lately how beautiful your hair is?” Jake asks, kissing your forehead before he takes another batch of strands in his hand. If he has to pick one of your best attributes, in his words, he’d say it was a tie between your lips and your hair, the two of them constantly making his heart race. You called him a liar, but as time revealed, he was nothing but honest with you every day, and not just about what turns him on. 

Over time, you discovered his fears, his ticks, his aspirations past the small town you both found yourselves in. You admire his vulnerability, how open he is when sharing the thoughts that occupy his mind.

“At least three times already,” you tease, running your hand across his leg.

“It’s not bad to hear it a fourth time, right?” He plants another kiss to the crown of your head. He drops the braid he’s just made across your face, making you laugh.

“I’d rather hear how work went today,” you say, getting up to press your back to his chest, snuggling into him.

He shrugs, wrapping his arms around you tighter. “Not much to talk about. Working with roofs all day isn’t exactly exciting, angel.” 

You know Jake doesn’t want to work at his dad’s construction company for the rest of his life. However, it provides stability, and that matters a lot to him. He knows what it did to his aunt when Riki’s father walked out early on in his cousin’s life, and he wouldn’t wish that lack of support on anyone.

“At least you’re not running a tutoring center and a daycare in the same church,” you joke, your tone anything but humorous. The brood you dealt with every day was completely unlike Riki. They were kids that were carbon copies of their parents, children that would one day become exactly like their absentminded fathers and speculatory mothers. It put a taste in your mouth you couldn’t stomach.

You fall into steady silence, the uptick in both of your nerves ebbing away the longer you hold each other. Sure, Jake hates roofing as much as you hate disciplining whining toddlers and helping apathetic tweens with mathematics, but it doesn’t matter at this moment.

All that does is each other, enjoying the midweek sunset and the sounds of the birds flying overhead.

“What would you do if you were somewhere else?” Jake asks into the crook of your neck.

You grin, imagining a world of possibilities. The question never came up before, not from him or anyone else. It opens up a plethora of choices in your mind, but you narrow them down quickly, knowing what your heart truly desires.

“I’d like to teach,” you answer. “Really teach, maybe at a university. Something like poetry.” You turn to look at him, a newfound fire in your eyes. “Yeah.”

Jake smiles back at you, moving stray strands of hair from your shoulder to rest his head there. “I think you’d be great at that.”

“What would you do?”

Jake ponders the question, going over it in the same way you were moments before. You see realization wash over his features, and it makes you smile. “I think I’d write. Not literature or anything, but songs maybe? Teach music in the meantime. Still have to make money somehow, y’know.”

You giggle and push him down on the picnic blanket, running your fingers through his hair. “Sounds like a plan.”

He nods, sharing your happiness. “Maybe a kid and a dog can fit somewhere in that plan.”

Chuckling, you raise one eyebrow. “As long as I’m not having a baby out of wedlock, that sounds perfect to me.”

He turns you both over, covering your body with his and kissing you intensely. The passion runs from his body to yours, your heartbeats matching in their strong beats against your chests. “Perfect,” he whispers, his lips meeting yours once again.

It may be too soon to call it love, but you know you’re tiptoeing that line, and you wouldn’t mind falling headfirst on the other side of it as long as Jake’s there waiting for you.

“Are you sure they don’t know I’m here?” Jake asks, hesitant to walk up the stairs to your bedroom.

“It’s fine! They’re at a seminar all weekend with Reverend Park and his son, I promise.” You kiss his lips before running up to your room. Still on the fence, you hear his tentative footsteps trudging behind you.

Another few months rolled by, and your parents had softened to the idea of Jake being around more often. He showed up with his parents to church every Sunday, even if you both snuck off to make out in the backwoods when nobody was paying attention.

He’d stick around for the deacon’s sessions with Akemi, brightening her spirits with his guitar and a couple of songs to replace the ones she missed during normal processions. It helped that she seemed to be getting better, slowly but surely, with treatment and daily prayer.

When you heard your father call Jake a “nice kid,” you knew they were turning a corner in their relationship that you wished for since the night Jake kissed you in Jungwon’s car.

Now, that doesn’t mean they would be happy with finding him in your bed on a Friday night, but you’ve broken enough rules at this point. What’s one more?

“You’re trying to get me killed,” Jake jokes as you rip his shirt from his body, discarding the article of clothing on your bedroom floor. You sit on your bed and marvel at the muscles on his chest and stomach, all of it yours to caress and kiss at any time.

“Don’t worry, babe. I’ll follow you to heaven,” you tease, pulling him closer to kiss his body. Each press of your lips to his skin makes him tremble, cursing quietly to himself at the feeling.

“With the way you’re touching me, I doubt either of us will make it there.”

You giggle and link his mouth to yours. You moan when his tongue hits the roof of your mouth.

The intentions you had for tonight definitely involved numerous bouts of kissing, but the way Jake’s making you feel will certainly end up with his face or fingers between your legs. And as good as that sounds, you don’t want him derailing you from completing your mission.

There had been so many moments of him giving you pleasure up to this point, you wondered how he had stayed so composed and content after without expecting anything in return.

So, tonight, you decided to give him a bit of satisfaction, even if you’re walking into such activities without any kind of road map. Yeri gave you a handful of tips, but doing it for real is another beast entirely.

“Jaeyun, wait,” you say, taking his face in between your hands.

He looks up at you with eager eyes, wondering why you pulled him away from your neck. “What is it?”

“I want to take care of you this time.” You say, hoping your expression gives off the confidence you’re trying to portray. “I’ve never done it before, but—“

“And you don’t have to, angel,” Jake says with a dopey, relaxed smile. What on Earth and heaven did you do to find a guy like him?

“Please,” you beg, scooting closer to the edge of the bed. “I want to try.”

Jake’s conflicting feelings are evident in his eyes. Surely any man wants his girlfriend to go down on him with the same eagerness that you're giving him right now, but he doesn’t want you to feel obligated. 

In his mind, pleasure isn’t about some sort of trade-off. He makes you feel good because he wants to, not because it’s some duty he has to fulfill and expects to be paid back for later.

But, you asked so nicely and your eyes shine up at him so beautifully. He feels his resolve crumble enough to concede and do what you want.

You begin to unbutton his pants, your fingers twitching not from fear but excitement. When you pull down his jeans fully and see the outline of his bulge in his briefs, your mouth falls open slightly at the size.

Could it fit in your mouth if it was that big?

Jake chuckles and takes your hand to press to the gaping material covering him. “It won’t bite.”

You look up at him and begin to stutter, unsure how to continue once you take off his underwear. “D-Do you want me to use my hands first?”

“Whatever feels right to you, angel. I trust you.” He rubs his thumb across your cheek, and it calms all the nerves that came to the surface.

It’s in those three words that you find the courage to pull the remaining article of clothing off of him, taking in the sight of his cock in all its glory.

You gulp hard, trailing your eyes from the tip to where it adjoins to the rest of him. You’ve never seen one up close before, and you feel like you’re invading his privacy as you stare at it for another long minute. But who can blame you?

“It’s all for you, baby,” Jake whispers. “Do whatever you want.”

You feel a sharp pang of heat at the center of your thighs, his words spurring you on. You spit into your hand, as Yeri instructed, and wrap your hand firmly around Jake’s cock. With an easy but deliberate pace, you look at Jake directly to see if you’re starting off on the right foot.

And boy were you.

Jake hisses at the feeling of your hand encasing him, loving the tightness of your fingers as they continue sliding up and down his dick. He had envisioned this many times in the solitude of his bedroom, images of you and your beautiful body writhing underneath him enough to get him off. But those nights were nothing compared to this.

“Are you ready for my mouth now?” You ask timidly. Jake wants to laugh at how innocent you sound, the words coming so naturally off of your tongue.

“Yes, angel, please,” he answers, wanting to caress you by the hair and guide you down to his awaiting, leaking cock.

You move closer until you're an inch away from his tip. Flattening your tongue to take it into your mouth, you keep watching Jake’s face for the right signals.

His mouth opens, a satisfied whine leaving his lips. You feel a wave of pride at the fact he’s enjoying it so much, egging you on further.

“Your mouth feels so perfect wrapped around me,” he confesses. He soaks in the sensation of your lips and teeth softly running over the veins of his cock, your head bobbing across his length skillfully. How can an innocent and dutiful daughter like you give such mind-blowing head?

He can’t ruminate on the answer long, releasing a guttural moan as he feels his tip hit the back of your throat, the gag that rumbles from you making his cock even more sensitive.

“Angel, I’m gonna come soon,” Jake warns. “If you don’t want me to come in your mouth, let me know now.”

You look up through your lashes at him as you continue sucking on him with fierce passion, swirling your tongue across his tip. 

His hand is wrapped firmly in your hair now, fucking your face as softly as he can without forcing anymore of himself down your throat. When you take a hand to cup his balls, softly kneading them between your fingers, he’s done for.

He whines pathetically as his seed shoots inside your mouth. The taste isn’t particularly pleasing, but you milk it for what it’s worth to watch him fall apart so perfectly under your attention.

The orgasm rocks through him with an unshakeable amount of pleasure, his body completely helpless as he continues to spurt into your mouth. He can only hiss and whine as you continue to touch him, letting him come down fully and taking all of him without complaint.

Jake breathes in deeply when he gains clarity again, taking you in his arms and shoving his tongue deep in your mouth. “That was probably the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten,” he states, running his fingers over your face with adoration.

You scoff and roll your eyes, his words making you shy. “I doubt it, seeing as that was my first one.”

“It was!” Jake puts a hand on his heart. “Swear to the savior himself.” Before you can rebut, Jake takes your legs in his hands and moves you to the edge of the bed.

You wake up to the hard knocks at your bedroom door, the morning sun peeking out of your window to prove the previous night has long gone.

“Honey? What did we say about locked doors in this house?”

Your father’s booming voice makes you jump up from bed, smacking Jake hard on the shoulder and chest to wake him up.

“We had an odd feeling at the hotel, so we came home early,” your mother says as you shake Jake from his sleep.

“Ow, what the fuck,” Jake grunts, his voice not quiet enough to go unnoticed. You curse yourself and the reality in front of what’s about to happen, knowing full well your parents heard him on the other side of the door.

“Sweetie, who’s in there with you?” Your mother’s shrill but concerned tone makes you cringe. Jake’s eyes bulge in response, quickly leaping from the mattress to pull on his clothes in haste.

Just when you throw your dress from last night over your head and Jake buttons up his pants, your father slams open the door with his shoulder. Your parents gasp and yell at the sight before them, the man they began to grow comfortable with in a compromising position with their only daughter and precious child.

“What in God’s name is he doing here?” Your father asks no-one in particular, stomping towards Jake’s shirtless figure and yanking him by the neck.

“Daddy, stop!” You plead, scratching and clawing at his frame to pull him off of your lover.

Your mother begins blubbering, teary-eyed before you. “Oh honey, what did he do to you?”

“Nothing,” you scream. “Please leave him alone and let us be.”

“I told you to stay away from him.” Your father stares you down, eyes blazing with fury. “Not only did you betray me, but you betrayed the sanctity of your purity. It’s a disgrace.”

Jake coughs, your father’s hands tightening around his neck. “The only disgrace is the two of you holding her back, like she’s some weak bird in a cage,” he croaks. “She can make her own decisions.”

“You stay silent, you insolent pest,” your father growls, yanking Jake out of your room and down the stairs. By the time you and your mother make it out to the bottom step, your father has thrown Jake out and onto the porch.

“Stay away from my daughter, or you’ll have another reason to pray you don’t end up burning in hell.”

“Stop it!” You step in between your father and Jake, the latter putting on what’s left of his clothes. People begin to hover too close to your family home, suddenly entrenched in the scene playing out before them.

Jake kisses your forehead and walks away in the direction of his parked bike, unsure what else he can do unless he wants to truly end up six feet under. 

 Your father grabs you by the upper arm and pulls you in the direction of your porch, but you resist with all your might. “You can’t make me go back in there.”

“I am your father and you will listen to me,” he grunts, holding on tight.

“Daddy, I love him!” You scream as you yank your arm away from your father, your inner strength giving way. “If you can’t accept that, I guess I’ll just have to burn hell with him. Better than wasting another second here.”

You run toward Jake’s bike and sit behind him, cinching your arms around his waist. He smiles to himself, feeling the press of your chest to his back as he puts his helmet over his head. “Are you sure about this, angel?”

You nod furiously, not bothering to look back at your red-faced family. “More than I’ve ever been.”

All you focus on is his motorcycle rumbling to life before you speed away. Your hair blows in the wind as you both escape the horrified stares of the local vipers.

You end up at a motel on the other side of town, far away from the scandal that’s surely rocking your small community by now. The deacon’s daughter running away with the bad boy next door? What a tragedy!

You run inside to miss the upcoming rain, both of you shivering from the barrage of pellets that did land on your skin. You settle onto the mattress as Jake drops the small amount of belongings he had in his possession on the dresser.

He turns to you with quiet concern, arms splayed out on the furniture as he looks at you, searching your face for any lingering doubt. “No regrets?”

You shake your head, exhausted but glad to be out of that house. “None at all.”

He breathes out a sigh of relief and sits down beside you on the bed, rubbing your thigh with his fingers. “I’m sorry.”

Your brows knit together, confusion pouring over you. You take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers. “You have nothing to apologize for. If anything, I should be apologizing to you.”

 You feel tears build at your eye ducts, your voice suddenly growing thick when you recall the scene from an hour ago. “I’m sorry my father was so horrible to you.”

“Hush, it’s okay,” he puts his other hand on your face. He kisses your lips tenderly and gracefully. How did nobody else but you see he possessed the most kind nature of anyone you’ve ever known?

Jake moves his head, his lips curving into the smile that always takes your common sense away. “I love you too, by the way.”

Your confession from earlier hits you like a heavy rock, your eyes going wide and your face turning pale. “That wasn’t the way I wanted to say it.”

“Then say it now,” Jake urges, your face resting gently between his fingers.

There’s no fear or pressure when the three words leave your lips, only the feeling of a weight lifting off of your chest. “I love you, Sim Jaeyun. I love you with my whole heart.”

His face lights up, the words seeming to set aglow something deep within him. The only right reaction seems to be in the form of his lips attaching to yours in a passionate kiss, your shared love creating a beautiful path forward for the both of you.

He whispers his next words so lightly, you almost assume the statement is a figment of your imagination. “Marry me.”

You feel your face contort into a mixture of disbelief and elation, needing to hear him say it again for it to truly resonate. “What?”

“Marry me,” he repeats, his smile stretching across his face. “Marry me now, or in three months from now, or whenever you want. Just say you will.”

You exhale a breath of astonishment, unsure if he knows how much you want to say yes, to make this as real as it sounds on his lips. He leaves your side with a kiss to your temple to grab something from his jacket. 

He comes back in record time, standing in front of you and twiddling the black box in both of his hands with anxious fingers. “I brought it with me to your house last night, I just didn’t know how to ask then. But I do now.”

Like in all the stories you’ve read and movies you’ve seen in your lifetime, he sinks down onto one knee before you. You place a hand over your mouth as he opens the box, a ring with an opal-shaped diamond cushioned in the center.

“Would you please do me the honor of being my wife?” Those words on his lips, visibly shaken from his own question, make a thousand butterflies flutter inside your chest.

Months ago, if you knew then you would end up here, from the edge of the sidewalk to now, you would not change a single moment. The world had been so gray before, you didn’t know what it was like to step in the sun until he came into your life. What other answer is there?

“Yes, yes, yes,” you respond, tears flooding your eyes as he shakily places the ring on your finger. It fits just right, the stone at the center sparkling in the darkness of the motel room.

You kiss Jake’s lips with all the force your body possesses, certain there’s no better future than right beside him.

The feeling of the gold band around your finger makes Jake shudder as it touches his cock. Your body is nestled perfectly on top of his as you take what you can’t put in your mouth between your fingers.

He laps up your essence with his tongue, ecstatic to have his face covered in your juices and smothered if need be by your wet cunt. If people think wedding nights are magical, engagement nights have to be a step up.

“Fuck, Jaeyun, yes,” you roll your hips into his awaiting mouth, his tongue available for you to lay your slit onto. The expletive leaves your mouth like honey, the feeling fitting for such a dirty word.

He knows exactly how to make you fall apart and be put back together, and the thought of doing this for the rest of your life makes you want to cry again from the pure happiness inside your core.

Jake takes his lips off of your pussy and sits up. Before you can ask what he’s doing, he takes you into his lap on the bed and kisses you fiercely. You taste yourself on his tongue as he skillfully takes your breath away with his lips. When you part, he says, “Angel, I know we said we’d wait, but I don’t know how much longer I can handle not being inside of you.”

You whimper at his words and suddenly rock your center into the tip of his cock, making him groan in the process. “I mean—we’re just starting early, right?” 

Jake releases a joyous laugh and kisses you hungrily, his face in a constant state of ecstasy since you said “yes” hours ago. “Right.”

 The anticipation makes you even wetter, crawling to the head of the bed as Jake grabs a condom from the bedside table. If there was one thing he had promised, he swore he wouldn’t get you pregnant. Not yet, anyway.

He rolls the rubber over his cock before joining you on the bed, lining up perfectly with your center. He rubs his tip against your folds, biting his lip at how easily it gets coated in your essence. “Ready?”

You nod eagerly, a smirk filling the entire bottom half of your face.

He pushes the tip in, the pressure a foreign feeling you had never experienced before. It took time and practice to get used to the size of his fingers, but this is another level of fullness that takes your breath away.

Once Jake’s partially inside and gives you a moment to adjust, he asks, “Can I move?”

You nod your head, holding onto his shoulders for support as he begins to thrust inside of you. He loves to see his cock disappearing between your legs, your body eagerly taking him in and stretching itself out to accommodate him. He loves the way you whimper at the movement of his hips and the pleasure you’re receiving.

Better yet, he loves you. He loves all of you, from the nonsensical words you speak in your sleep to the wrinkle between your eyebrows when you get mad. You’re all his, and he’s grateful to be the only one you call yours.

“We may never leave this motel,” Jake says, his words breathy as he continues moving his hips. “I could stay inside of you for the rest of my life, angel.”

“I love you so much,” you say, inching your hand between your bodies to roll your clit between your fingers.

“I love you,” Jake says. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you like he wants to pour all of his emotions from his being into your soul, just so you know how deep his love for you goes.

It’s all so overwhelmingly beautiful, you feel the swell of your release cresting over you like a tidal wave. “Baby, I’m gonna come,” you whisper, your mouth open wide from the moans and cries you cannot suppress.

Jake groans and slams his hips into you harder, filling you to the hilt repeatedly. “Come, angel. Come for me.”

You cry out as the orgasm takes hold of your body, your fingers working on their own accord on your clit as you fall off the edge.

Jake stills not a second later, releasing into the condom and taking the last remnants of his energy to thrust inside of you a few more times.

He pulls out and throws the rubber in a nearby trash can. His sweaty body clings to yours, hands rubbing up and down your arm tenderly as he kisses the curve of your shoulder.

You see the flash of your ring in the glow of the motel’s neon sign, and you think about how the night could not have gone any better.

Jake may be a bit reckless and not what you initially imagined for your future, but now that you have him, you wouldn’t give him up for anything. All the parts of you that stayed buried for so long have resurfaced because of him, and you could not be more grateful.

With your left hand a touch heavier than it was some hours ago, you fall asleep to the sound of the rain hitting the window and Jake’s rising and falling chest.

You walk out of your mother’s house, happy to have made a visit with her before she ran off to do her morning errands.

What you’re not pleased to encounter is the same crowd of women huddled with their homemade fans and cups of lemonade. They weren’t there when you arrived a few hours ago.  Of course they show up when you have no chance of escaping them, like the vultures they are.

“Mrs. Sim,” Mrs. Choi says, her tone entirely made of stone with little warmth. “Pleasure to see you.”

Your new surname gives you indescribable amounts of happiness. It took your parents some time to get used to, but eventually, they realized you put your heart in the right place. Your father took his sweet time getting there, begrudgingly admitting a short time ago Jake is a very acceptable son-in-law, the turnaround of his perception of your husband complete.

You give the crotchety ringleader a fake smile and attempt to walk away, but Mrs. Lee interjects. “How’s your mister doing working at the church now?”

“Great,” you say, genuinely happy to talk about a topic you care for. “Jaeyun loves the kids. Little Yuna might actually be a guitar prodigy from what he’s told me.”

They all coo, practically synchronized in their sips of lemonade and fan flurries.

“Soon enough you’ll have one of your own, I’m sure,” Mrs. Choi remarks with sarcasm, her red-lipstick-stained front teeth on full display.

“Not too soon now,” Jake suddenly says, walking up the pathway to your mother’s house and taking you in by the waist. “My wife has to finish her Masters first. How else is she gonna start teaching at the community college?”

My wife. No matter how long it’s been since you officially got married in your church, that day a year ago forever ingrained in your memory, it still warms you to the bones hearing those words leave Jake’s lips.

The women all express signs of agreement, some nodding while others hum.

“We better get back home now, but you ladies have a nice day!” Jake bids them goodbye and walks you both down the stairs with his hand on the small of your back. Even if he were to be more than the perfect gentleman in front of them, they would still linger around with pesky eyes and constantly moving lips.

“They’re still betting we’re gonna crash and burn, aren’t they?” Jake whispers, teasing you with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

You shake your head. You fall more in love with him every day that passes, no matter what the people around you do or don’t see. They may have their opinions, but it won’t shake the foundation you’ve built. “Well, they’re sure to be disappointed if I have anything to say about it.”

Jake’s eyes widen, his expression humorous yet surprised. “Easy, angel. Don’t want to have to tear my wife off of a nosy wine mom.”

Your heart aches at his words, him fully aware of what two of them in particular do to you. “I love you.”

Jake grins, inching his face closer to yours. “I’d love nothing more than to kiss you right now, but what would everyone say?” He asks with a mock face of horror.

You shrug without much care, grinning. “Someone once told me ‘fuck everyone else.’ And right now I couldn’t agree more.”

Jake laughs before he places a gentle kiss to your lips, the sun radiating off of him in waves as he pulls you closer.

No matter what anyone in your small town has to say, your choices are yours; you’re perfectly happy with how your life has turned out whether they think so too or not. And you will always choose Sim Jaeyun, now and forever.

@yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kvanity-main @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Twenty

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.1k words - AO3 Tags: 18+ mdni, nurse reader, feelings of fear and panic, PTSD, references to domestic violence. Trauma, blood. Flashbacks. Dubious ethics and morality, dark content.

“Are ye comin’ inside?”

“I need a minute.” He needs more than a minute. He needs days, weeks. Needs to wind back the clock and slam it into the ground, over and over again, until the springs and hands and tiny numbers splinter into pieces.

Failure. He failed. They failed.

They failed you.

“Wait, go back.” The video pauses and rolls backward, all the way until Simon tells Kate to stop it when you step out of the elevator. “What’s in her hand?” 

“Dinnae,” Johnny’s nose is practically touching the screen. 

“The recording is pretty low quality; I’ve tried enhancing it with no luck.” Kate’s voice crackles through the speakers from the other side of the laptop, the other side of the world. This is the first time they’ve managed to get a hold of her in weeks, and even now, the connection is half static. 

“Looks like a piece of paper, or a picture?” Johnny murmurs, leaning back. 

“This is just before she bolts,” the playback continues, and they watch as you walk down the hall, bright smile fading when you reach the corner. “She’s here for a minute and then runs…” Simon is glued to the screen, forward on his haunches, and Johnny rubs his back, kneading his knuckles into that ever-present knot in his shoulder. He watches your head turn, your back stiffen, and Johnny sucks in a breath. 

Kate nods the confirmation. She’s already put the puzzle together. 

Graves.

You’re reacting to Graves, seeing Graves. Entire demeanor shifting, changing from their sweet, smart girl with newfound confidence, to a deer, shocked and startled, running from a scope. 

Graves.

It’s simple math. Plain as day. You take one look at where he’s come around the corner, running his mouth, chewing that fucking gum, and split. 

It’s Graves. 

And it all makes sense. 

“-you don’t know what he’s capable of. You don’t understand. He’s chased me across the world, he always finds me, no matter what, no matter what I do”

“He’s in the military. Some sort of security work, department of defense, or something. He never really talked about it.”

“He always finds me.” 

“He has resources. Has followed me across the globe more than once. My only saving grace is that when he has to work, he has to work, and it’s usually for long chunks of time.”

“I’m originally from Texas.” 

Texas. Texas. Texas. 

There was a conversation, months ago, that slipped through Simon’s fingers. A wisp of a suspicion, one pushed away by doubt, by disbelief.  

Not possible. A coincidence. 

He was wrong, about being wrong. He was right, all along.

Johnny nearly flips the table before Simon urges him back down. “Where… where does she go after this?” 

“She gets the car,” Simon answers, timeline clicking into place, “she borrows that gits car, comes home, packs a bag, and runs.” Johnny’s hands are shaking, fingers white against his knees. 

They’ll kill him. He’ll paint the walls with Phillip’s blood. They’ll do what should have done in the first place. 

He should have protected you, should have seen it all clearly. Should have applied more pressure and made you crack, if only for your own safety. 

He failed. 

They failed. 

“That piece o’ shite, I’ll-“ 

“Kill him.” Simon finishes simply, and they exchange a look. A promise without words. Simon will shatter his skull between his palms if he has to. 

Johnny nods. The gears are already turning. Are they so different from a man who has stopped at nothing to drag you back to him? 

No. 

They'd burn the world for you, to protect you, to bring you home to them. 

Kate clears her throat. “There’s more.” More? “I was checking some records, looking at her last clock out, when the last paycheck was paid out and I pulled her personal information, her medical chart.” Kate’s tone is wary, hesitant, and Johnny straightens. 

“What is it?” There’s a pause on the other end of the line, unsure trepidation that’s so unlike Kate the hair on the back of Simon’s neck stands up. 

“Kate…” 

“She’s pregnant.” You could hear a pin drop. Johnny’s rage turns to panic, and an ocean of blood rushes in Simon’s ears. 

“She’s- she’s what?” 

“She’s pregnant. By now, she’s probably twenty weeks, maybe? I’m not sure. I don’t know much about those things, but her chart notes say both of them are… were in good health. Low risk.” 

“Twenty weeks,” Johnny echoes, faraway look in his eyes. 

A baby. You’re pregnant. 

Pregnant. Pregnant and alone, and scared. Running away.  

From them. 

Simon’s trying to wrap his head around it, but he can’t. The information doesn’t fit. It doesn’t make sense. 

“If she’s twenty weeks, then she’s been pregnant since before she left.” Johnny’s talking to himself at this point, because Simon can’t force his mouth to make words. “Why keep it a secret?” Kate is telling them something about index hits and cameras, but it all amounts to nothing after you board the train, and Simon still fails to make a sound. 

And then, she piles it on. 

“Graves is in the wind.” Simon’s heart stops like he’s been struck by lightning, electricity jolting him alive. 

“How?” 

“He went offline. No traceable activity in the last week or so. Last known location was Texas. After that, I’m not sure. Yet.”

‘He can’t be in the wind,” Johnny whisper shouts, all too aware of Penny upstairs, napping. “We need to know where he is. Now.” 

“I’m doing all I can. He has resources too, you know. A lot of them.” The screen goes black for a second, before she reappears, lips pressed into a grim line. “I have to go. I’ll keep you updated. Sorry guys.”

They can only nod. 

It’s clear as day, what happened now. How you saw them in the hallway, how you drew the conclusion, one that seemed so painfully obvious, connected the dots that appeared in your mind, stringing together bits and pieces until it all made sense.

He knows what will have to happen now. They both do. 

Simon presses his forehead to Johnny’s. “We’ll find her.” 

“An’ bring her home.” 

“No matter what.” 

The rest is left unsaid. 

You’re having a dream.

It’s a lovely one, more of a memory than anything else, but a dream, nonetheless.

“This still feels like a bad idea.” 

“Isnae, ye’ll do great bun. Jus’ the ‘hawk now.” You’ve already finished the sides of his head, which were easy enough, but using actual scissors to cut hair is well outside your wheelhouse. 

“What if I mess it up?” 

“It’s jus’ hair, pretty girl. It grows.” 

“How’s it going out here?” Simon leans out the sliding door, Penny in his arms, and you try to plead with him with wide, nervous eyes. He chuckles. “Looks good so far.” 

“See?” Johnny smiles, one of the big ones that stretches his whole face and makes your knees weak. Penny loves them too, and she claps her hands together, giggling. 

“But… I don’t… I’m going to mess it up.” Johnny stands, warm hands on your arms. 

“Ye could shave me bald and wouldnae mess it up, bun.” You nod, but the acid, noxious taste of worry is still there on your tongue. 

“I just… I…” you’re starting to shake a little, fingers squeezing together. He tugs you into his chest, kisses your temple. 

“Ye’re alright.” 

“I know.” You do know. You’re safe. They’d never hurt you, never betray your trust or even yell at you, but muscle memory doesn’t forget. “I know, I’m sorry.” 

“Ye dinnae have to be sorry.” 

“It’s okay, bunny.” Simon murmurs, but it’s not. 

Is this how you’ll spend your whole life? Afraid? Shaking? 

No. 

Not anymore. 

“If I ruin his hair… it’s not my fault.” Simon chuckles. 

“We’ll blame him.” You turn back to Johnny and put your hands on his shoulders, taking a deep breath, surveying the mop of unruly brown strands, and he covers one of yours with his own. 

“It’s okay. If ye-“ 

“No, I can. I can do it.” You don’t know why you’re so nervous. It’s just a hair cut, for crying out loud, but for some reason it feels like plunging into the deep end of a pool. “Okay,” you breathe, making the first snip. He nods encouragingly and you roll your shoulders. 

“See? Not so bad?” 

“Not so bad.” You cut again and again, trying to manage it all into a proper length, shaping as best you can. 

Each snip, something grows. Your hands tremble a little less, your jaw unclenches, lips flexing upward into your cheeks. You breathe deeper. 

When Johnny turns around, he doesn’t care about his hair, or the slightly uneven chunks, or the fresh clippings on his shirt. 

He cups your face, kissing you before pulling away to rub his thumb across your cheek. 

“There she is.” 

Spring rain. There’s nothing like it.

It washes away the gloom of winter. It’s the turning of a page, the spine of a brand-new book snapped open with a splintering crack. Cabin fever becomes walks in the park, lunches and coffees outside, hanging out on balconies and patios.

Dead things turned to soil now sprouting new life.

Like you, you guess.

You’ve been dead before. If someone looked really closely, they could see it in your eyes. The grey of decay, the separation of iris and pupil. Dead and brought back not quite right, every time. Sally, stitched together incorrectly, the wrong pieces of patchwork, poorly aligned.

Every time he ripped another piece of you away, you found a different one, one less like you, to put in its place.

Every time, until you weren’t you at all. Until you were a girl in a mirror. Until you were a ghost.

It makes sense that you don’t know yourself now, haven’t known for years. On the run, there’s not a lot of time to stop and consider things like that, those pieces. Coffee or tea? Chocolate cake or vanilla? Do you like snow? Do you like the beach? 

Do you like yourself? 

You could have had these answers, you think. Could have learned these things, if it hadn’t turned out the way it did. If Simon and Johnny hadn’t turned out to be a hydra, mouths open, waiting to devour you.

Sunbeam kicks. They nail you in the bladder, and you wince, rubbing over the crest of your belly. “You’re killing me, you know that?” You feel like you’ve been hit by a bus, every day. The aches and pains are never ending, your back and hips screaming by the end of a shift. You can’t sleep, the heartburn makes it hard to eat, you’re never comfortable.

The whole time, you curse them, Simon and Johnny.

Their fault, it’s their fault.

And yours too. 

But no matter how tired, how sore, how cranky you are, you can’t bring yourself to regret it, and in your dreams, it’s like all the bad, all the awful betrayal didn’t even happen. You dream of a family with them, Penny holding her little sibling, the five you together. It’s all been buried in your mind, too deep and nearly impossible to dig out. The visions of them, the longing, the good memories. You’re infested with them.

You didn’t want this. You wanted them, you wanted it all, and that might be the hardest thing about it. You weren’t given a choice, this decision was made for you, taken from you, just like almost everything else.

Except little sunbeam. You wanted them, chose them, will choose them, over and over, forever, keep them safe, make sure they know they’re loved.

No matter what. 

It’s the train, always the train.

Not the long rail train, the commuter train. The one that takes you to and from work, the one that’s sometimes-standing room only, though most people offer you their seat, which is surprisingly kind, compared to where you’re from.

Regardless, you feel the gaze on the train, and no matter how hard you scan, dissect, watch the people around you, there’s nothing. All three faces, three sets of eyes, three profiles, are never anywhere to be seen.

It’s overwhelming, unsettling. The stress of this prickling unease combined with the stress and physical strain of your job is taking its toll on both you and Sunbeam, as the midwife likes to remind you.

Take it easy, take some time off, try to relax. Stay hydrated, eat well.

Yeah… okay.

You rub your belly anxiously, tugging your hood farther over your head, trying to look around without being so obvious.

“Excuse me?” You jolt, startled by a man standing at your elbow, pointing to a vacant spot on a bench. “Would you like my seat?” His smile is subtle, matching an encouraging but not overly intrusive demeanor.

“Sure, thank you so much.” He nods, stepping to the side, into the space between the seat and the divider, close to the door. You try to swing your backpack in front of you, but it gets caught, and he snags it before it falls. “Sorry, thanks.”

“Of course, no problem.” You give him another glance. Really handsome, rich brown eyes you could get lost in. He’s got a baseball cap on, but it’s not pulled down over his face like your hood, he’s not trying to hide. “I’ll move when your stop comes up.”

“Okay, it’s not for a while so, no worries.” He might be kind, but he’s still a stranger, and you’re not going to divulge anything specific. Stranger danger. 

Not everyone is a threat but… 

“How far along are you?” You blink.

“Uh, about twenty-five weeks, give or take a few days.” He nods.

“My wife is due next week; it’s been a rollercoaster.”

“Yeah, it’s not the easiest.” You laugh, a little apprehensive, but also, a little glad, secretly, to have a casual conversation with someone. He sticks his hand out.

“I’m Kyle.” Your tongue rolls with the practiced name you’ve memorized, the one you’ve drilled into yourself over and over again. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too.” The next stop is announced, and he moves gracefully, reaching for his bag and tugging it over his shoulder, barely giving you a second glance.

“This is me, have a good day.”

“Thanks.” He doesn’t look over his shoulder at you when he’s getting off, doesn’t watch you through the window from the platform. He’s completely uninterested, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

The box is delivered on a Tuesday.

The Scottish government gives you almost everything you need. Clothes, thermometers, baby books, a changing mat, a mattress, a sheet, a blanket, the list goes on. The box even doubles as a bassinet.

You cry over it. Rifling through everything, tears drip down your cheeks and you bury your face in your hands. You didn’t get to share an ultrasound with anyone, or have a shower, or hold someone’s hand to your belly as sunbeam kicked, but there’s this. A box full of baby stuff, a box that says no matter how hard it is, you and sunbeam will have a good start. Even Sunbeam’s room is halfway sorted at this point, crib set up, dresser half stocked with clothes, collection of diapers and burp cloths and bottles starting to pile up in various places in their room. You’ve made it comfortable, slowly, mix matched furniture and all.

Every day feels like a year, but as each one passes, you slowly adjust to a new normal, a new life. Something you made, again, from scratch, for yourself, your survival.

And now, for Sunbeam.

One day, maybe it will feel like home.

You really need to stop buying so much crap at the store.

You practically have to drag your grocery loot into the elevator, bags overflowing with fruit, vegetables, cans of formula. Random cleaning products, stuff for baby proofing, a new candle.

Apparently, some call this nesting. You just call it annoying.

You lean against the wall and close your eyes for a moment, shifting your weight to alleviate the pressure on your spine.

Thirty weeks.

Ten weeks left.

Ten weeks left. It’s wild to even think about, to even say to yourself, or out loud. You’re going to be a mom in ten weeks. Going to have a whole human depending on you for every single thing, in ten weeks.

You’ll be alone, with a newborn, in ten weeks.

Alone.

It still aches. Stings. Salt in the wound-

Lit end of a cigarette against your skin.

You instinctively cup your belly, thumb rubbing over where one of your burn scars has been stretched by Sunbeam, and shiver.

You’re fine. You’re safe. Get it together.

“We’re home!” You announce to no one, no one except Gus the goldfish who’s swimming circles around his bowl. You got him two weeks ago on an impulse, following a pathetic, sad desire all the way to the pet store.

It’d be nice to have something to come home to. 

You tap a few flakes into the water and watch him gobble them up, oddly soothed by his presence in the flat.

This is how far you’ve fallen. Taking comfort in a damn goldfish.

You blow out a breath and fall onto the couch, swinging your legs up onto the cushions, dragging the pillows under your ankles, or what used to be your ankles. They’re more like overstuffed sausages now, tops of your sneakers cutting into your skin. Every chance you get, you’re finding places to sit at work, caught yourself leaning most of your weight on your patient’s beds, more than once. Thankfully, your coworkers are overwhelmingly understanding.

And when you come home, you do this. Collapse on the couch. Talk to a goldfish, or Sunbeam, or both.

The oddest trio: Mom, baby, goldfish.

You manage to limit yourself to three bites of ice cream before putting the carton away in the freezer. You’re supposed to be watching your sugar intake, apparently, not because you’re at risk for gestational diabetes, but because Sunbeam is already projected to be on the bigger side.

You look mournfully at container, spoon still in hand.

One more. What’s it going to hurt? One more bite isn’t going to turn Sunbeam into a giant, it’s-

Knuckles rap against your door.

Your blood goes cold, colder than ice, and you instinctively find the floor, crouching by the fridge, using it to shield yourself, keeping away from the door’s direct line of sight.

The knocking gets louder.

Someone’s saying something on the other side of the door, but you can’t hear it over the buzzing, beeping sound in your ears.

How. 

How? How did it happen so fast? Where did you fuck up? 

The fear you once felt for yourself pales in comparison to the true fear you feel now. You’re supposed to protect Sunbeam, supposed to keep them safe.

You’re supposed to be a mom. 

A sob claws its way out, and you clap your palm over your mouth, agony squeezing your heart, panic clutching your throat in a vise, choking off your air, throttling you until you’re gasping.

You should run, should sprint into the bedroom and grab the gun from under your mattress, should start crawling out the window to the fire escape.

You should do these things, but instead, you’re trapped, immobile, watching with horror as the deadbolt turns horizontal, sliding the lock free with a bloodcurdling click.

Your baby. You were supposed to keep your baby safe. 

You failed. 

You stand, so unsteady you have to support your weight by leaning against the counter. The only thing in here are kitchen knives, and you rip two from the block, one hiding behind your back, the other brandished in front of your body like a sword.

You’re going to die. 

But not without a fight. 

Tears wet your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” you choke, sliding a hand over little Sunbeam, “I’m so- so sorry.”

The creak of the door handle is unmistakable, a metal whine scraping against the frame. You close your eyes.

“Bunny.”

Your heart stops.

The men you thought love you are standing just inside your kitchen, the sight of them turning your stomach, their eyes flicking between you and the shiny, sharp knife in your hand.

Johnny inches forward, his voice a low, gentle murmur, one that cracks your heart. “It’s okay pretty girl, we’re here to take ye home.”

“Get away from me.” The knife is practically rattling in your hand.

"It's alright. We’d never hurt ye, either of ye. We know what ye saw and-“

“N-no,” you sob, voice cracking, shoulders shaking, “don’t come near me.”

“Put that down, sweet girl, it’s alright.” Simon edges around the counter, caution and wary weighing his steps. They’re supposed to be muffled you think, soft, but they ring so loud.

“Stop!”

“Just let us explain, give us a minute-“

“I saw you! I saw you w-with him.” Your vision is blurred by tears, and you look down at your belly, desperate. “Just let us go, please. Don’t- don’t let him-“

“Listen to me, sweetheart. We have nothing to do with Phillip.” His name makes your flinch, and you inch backwards.

“You know him.”

“We do. He tried to kill us, betrayed us, on a mission. Nearly succeeded with Johnny.” The words conflict, mash together into a scramble you don’t understand. It doesn’t make sense.

More lies. 

“I don’t believe you.”

“I know, I know you don’t. I wouldn’t if I was in your position either, but we’re telling the truth.” You shake your head.

“No. You’re just… you’re just trying to trick me.”

“We’re not,” Johnny murmurs, “We’ve always told ye the truth, bun. And we’d never hurt ye.” He steps forward. It’s too close, way too close, and you pivot, both knives still clutched in your hands.

“Put them down.” Simon instructs, a little bit of steel in his voice now. He can obviously see the one behind your back, and your heart starts to sink.

There’s no way out. You should have run when you had the chance. 

Stupid.

The girl in the mirror stays silent. She says nothing.

For all you know, she’s dead already. Killing blow dealt by your own hand.

You think about Sunbeam, all warm and safe, protected from the world, and despair swells in your chest, an entire ocean beneath your feet, waiting to swallow you up, drag you down and drown you.

“Now, sweetheart. We don’t want you to hurt yourself.” You laugh. It’s a sickly, nervous thing, too tinny and high pitched.

You’re falling apart. You’re not a fighter, you’re a runner, shot lame in a race rigged against you from the beginning. They’re closing in, wolves stalking the bleeding lamb between them, predators about to fall on prey.

 “Don’t,” whisper, fingers tightening around the knife in front of your body, unable to hold it steady through the trembling.

“Bunny, listen to us, please.” Johnny is reaching and you get trapped in his gaze, spiraling into the swirl of misery and fear, mirroring your own. “I love ye, we love ye. Ye belong with us, at home, where we can keep ye safe.” You slam your eyes shut, trying to block him out. “I’ve loved ye since the day I opened m’eyes and saw ye leaning over the bed. We’d never hurt ye, we jus’ want to take ye home.”

Out of the corner of your eye, Simon moves. One powerful, huge step, and he’s on you, grabbing your arm, applying pressure to your knuckles to release the knife.

You scream. It’s instinct. Everything shuts down, narrowing down to one objective.

Run.

“Johnny,” he half shouts over your keening, holding gentle pressure against your arm as you try to rip yourself free. “Shhh, it’s okay, you’re okay.” You thrash, trying to twist out of his grip, shoulder shrieking in pain, and he goes with your momentum, providing slack so there’s no tension in your arm. “Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself sweetheart, you’re okay.”

You’re not. 

You’re not okay. You’ll never be okay. 

The walls close in, and it all becomes so clear. Your future, what will happen if they take you, if you leave here with them.

They’ll take Sunbeam. They’ll turn you over to Phillip, throw you out like trash, and you’ll die.

Are you going to let it happen, just like you let everything else? Are you going to roll over? Let it all be stolen, again and again? 

No. 

Simon reaches for the other knife and you swing it wide, slicing through the air until the blade meets flesh.

He hisses. Blood spills, drips down the handle, coats your fingers, and you stand there, frozen, gobsmacked.

Did you- 

Did you just- 

“Johnny,” he barks, but it barely registers, you’re too transfixed by the blood, hypnotized by it, too entranced to even register Johnny at your side, too stunned to see what’s in his hand.

A needle. 

He whispers your name, cradles your face-

And then everything goes black.

[krysmcscience]

At long last: either an alternate explanation for or continuation of my prior comic regarding how Bill was ABSOLUTELY naked in Ford's karaoke night drawing. (Because errors in art do not exist. Artists do not make mistakes. So if you see any in this comic, No You Do Not.)

I am so normal about these old dorks.

I'm not really clear on exactly when Bill started throwing his desperation book at Ford just like a needy ex do, but I find it extremely funny to imagine it happening literally the day of or after the makeshift funeral. Bill just gets this weird sense of 'Ford is taking steps to move on' and CANNOT FUCKING ABIDE.

I hope you enjoy all the goofy things I added to each page of Bill's sad spieling. (Everything SHOULD be readable so long as you view the full size, but I have added basically this whole little fanfic in the image descriptions, LMAO, which lays out all the little written notes and such.) Also don't ask how Bill managed to sneak that vampire pen in there. I have no idea, and honestly? I don't wanna know.

Oh, and a little bonus comic:

Of course Bill would take it as flirting. Because between the two of them, Bill is the bigger masochist By Far. :)

Also I have continued applying The Good Place logic to any of Bill's attempts to swear. Case in point, one last bonus image, this time with a motivational line from my slapdash Theraprism OC, EV-01:

Yes, its name is just 'love' backwards. No, I will not be taking any feedback on this. Yes, EV-01 was only ever assigned to Bill's case due to the Theraprism being desperate to make some progress in rehabilitating him. No, it did not work anywhere close to staff's expectations - Bill didn't even appreciate EV-01's matching fondness for bowties! (He claimed the fondness to be "cultural appropriation" and insisted he'd been traumatized by it.)

Anyway, if you like my stuff, reblogs are very much appreciated, and if you really really like it, perhaps consider my commissions or yeeting a teeny tiny tip my way? I am trying to recoup over 500 dollars in vet bills, ahaha... 🙃

In other news, I loved all the fun tags people added to the prior naked-karaoke comic (such as 'the hat and bow-tie stay ON during sex' and the classic '[insert keysmash here]', as well as the many amused/bewildered remarks about how I either made the bricks a piece of clothing or just straight up peeled Bill's skin off). However, I think my favorite thing by far was the several people losing their shit over the fact that I gave Bill toes. Like, excuse me? The magical talking triangle can have fingers but not toes??? Since when was that a rule????? 🤣 (Also the one person who reblogged with the cropped panel where Bill's fishnets pants are falling off to ask why Bill peed himself. Dude, I want to examine your brain...?)

Okie-dokie, I'm sick of looking at all of this stuff now and I'm off to go to work, after which I will either scribble some more goofy "Billford" comics or perhaps draw my lame human!Bill in Situations, idk yet. Maybe I'll even finally draw more than just a single other person's human!Bill...? Who knows, but I sure hope I can mix it up a little and not turn whatever I draw into a month-long fukken project. >:\

[rafeslvbug]

hockey!rafe && iceskater!reader at rafe’s house party…

music blared, alcohol overflowing from little red cups that eventually got discarded on the ground, crushed under the feet of drunken dancers. you arrived late, having spent hours procrastinating with your friend over outfits, now navigating through the purple lights and mass of people to get to the centre of the makeshift dance floor. you had a cup in your hand, tipping alcohol over the sides as you stumbled through, already on the brink of tipsiness.

the songs seemed to thrum through you as you swayed to the rhythm of it, eyes shut, and your body brushing against other inebriated students. you hardly even registered when the exposed skin of your stomach is covered with two rough hands, gripping at your waist and spinning you around.

eyes blinking open, you focus on the image of rafe, under the blue and purple lights, that insouciant grin of his spread across his face. one hand wraps around the cup in yours, easily prying it out and taking a sip from it, his eyes low as they stare at you from over the brim. “that’s my drink,” you pout, reaching out to grab the drink back from him, only for rafe to lift it out of your reach while tutting.

“gotta ask nicely, flash.”

you huff at the nickname, one you’d wear with pride coming out of anyone’s mouth except for rafe; rafe likes to use it to tease you over the time you spun so fast you knocked right into him on the rink.

“idiot! give it back!” you stand on your tiptoes, subconsciously edging closer towards him in your pursuit of the red cup, found everywhere in this party yet like a prize out of reach right now.

he rolls his eyes, arm slipping around your waist and tugging you closer, lowering the drink back down to your slightly parted lips. “you didn’t ask nicely, at all. but i am nice, so here ya go,” he tilts the cup upwards so that the alcohol pours into your mouth, only for a bit before he lifts it away again.

your eyes are stuck on his the whole way through, the realisation over how close you are to him finally dawning on you. the tension spread between you two over the past few months is now stretched dangerously thin, a few centimetres from drunken and horrific mistakes, an arm around your waist threatening to smash down the last remaining bricks of the walls you both had first put up.

cup held with his four fingers, his thumb moves up to brush against your lips, swiping over the alcohol glistening on them, slow and deliberate. it feels oddly magnetic, a drunken haze that pulls you towards him, taking tiny steps to close the distance like it’s all you know. your eyes are fixated on his lips, just wondering what it’d be like– what he’d taste like. girls chasing him through halls, sneaking out of his bedroom late at night, cheering him on in the rafters and for once, you wondered what it’d like to be them.

to be his.

close enough to hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat, the erratic one of yours, the party drowned out. the knowledge that you shouldn’t do this - you wouldn’t do this had you been that little more sober - and yet it’s all you craved in this moment.

then his lips were on yours. soft, almost fleeting, cheap beer mingling with yours and featherlight. pulling away dangerously slow, his blue eyes piercing yours for confirmation. he waits a few beats.

one.

two.

then, “shit, i should’ve done this way earlier.”

his lips slam back down on yours. he discards the cup on the ground, your clumsy feet walking all over it as he guides you backwards, through the crowds to the nearest wall, all while maintaining the kiss with a numbing intensity. your back hits against the wall, though you hardly care through escaped moans, the way his hands wonder over the skin your top shows and even slip under it. “tell me flash, you lookin’ to flash anyone tonight with this fuckin’ top?” he murmurs against your lips, unwilling to break the contact for even a moment.

“only you, rafter,” you gasp in return, lips chasing his, hand threading through his hair and torn between arching your back up to him or pulling him down to you. nonetheless, his body covers you entirely against the wall, bent down to get closer, like even he can’t get enough.

“good,” he chuckles, low and through the kiss, hand on your cheek before he tugs you off the wall and leads you out the party room, both of you consumed in each other all the way up the stairs to rafe’s bedroom.

-

light streams through the curtains, and you awake with a headache that raged through your head. you’re sprawled onto a king sized bed, blankets pooled around you and still in yesterday’s clothes. squinting at the unfamiliar surroundings, you try to recall the events of last night, until rafe emerges from the connected bathroom, low hanging sweatpants, oversized shirt and ruffled hair, toothbrush stuffed in his mouth as he smiles. “well good morning flash.”

“fuck,” you mumble, looking down at yourself, as if to make sure your clothes are actually on.

“something we didn’t do, yesterday,” he drawls, noticing your slight alarm as he rids himself of his toothbrush momentarily in the bathroom sink.

“no? what did we do then?” you run your fingers through your messy hair as you sit up, running the back of your hand over your eyes.

“you don’t remember?” he calls out, before re-emerging and walking over to the side of the bed you were on.

you scramble backwards, closer to the middle of the bed, only giving him room to join you, leaning closer, barely having enough time to ask him what he’s doing before one arm traps you in his body and he’s pressing his lips to yours. his tongue slips between your parted lips, moving without hesitation but steadily too, until he pulls away, seemingly satisfied at your gently swollen lips.

“why did you..” you begin, only for him to cut you off with a mischievous grin.

“just remindin’ you of last night,” he murmurs, getting off the bed and walking to the door. he opens it, pausing in the doorway before looking at you over his shoulder, “ya took up over half of my bed by the way, not that i’m complainin’, i got some photos of you practically drooling on me.”

your mouth falls open at the audacity of him, and the idea that he’s got embarrassing photos of you tucked away in his phone for him to use as and when he pleases.

“yeah, ya looked just like that,” he hums, gesturing to the face you were making, tossing you a wink and closing the door behind him to deal with the aftermath of the party downstairs, no doubt going to kick the people who slept over out the house.

mortified, you bury your head in your hands, in disbelief that one, you made out with rafe and slept in his bed - on him. two, you were quite sure he intended for it to happen again. and worst of all, three, you remembered last night and wanted it to happen again.

you really did understand all those girls now.

taglist: @starkeyjoseph @rafesbabygirlx @slut-4-rafey @lanaslushworld @littlelamy @rain-likes-purple @sunny1616 @csturnioloswifey @silkylovey @mak1777 @rafesapple @octoberbxbyy

[douceurrrr]

jealous sex with nic in soul ties

cw: smut, minor angst,oral (f. receiving), dirty talk, language , unprotected (p in v), reader is blk.

you had no idea it was gonna piss him off that bad.

you were just doing the challenge. just following instructions like everybody else—wrap your legs around the log, whisper something spicy, give a little performance. and yeah, maybe you went a little harder when it was jeremiah’s turn. but that’s what the game called for, right?

besides, it was blindfolded.

you didn’t even know it was jeremiah until you heard him laugh afterward.

but nic… oh, nic saw everything.

you felt it the second you came back to sit on the bench. the heat of his stare across the firepit, his jaw tight, leg bouncing, arms folded across that broad chest like he was using every ounce of strength not to explode.

and the thing is—you knew you looked good. the tiny denim shorts hugging your hips. the silk top barely tied in the front. your knotless braids pulled into a high messy bun that left your neck on full display. you were glowing.

and jeremiah definitely noticed.

but nic? he looked like he wanted to murder him.

you tried to play it cool. smiled, laughed when amaya whispered something messy in your ear. but your eyes kept flicking over to nic. and his never left you.

until he stood up. sharp. deliberate. walked right over.

“can i pull you for a chat?” he asked, voice low but carrying.

you blinked. then nodded, standing slow.

he didn’t wait for a response. just walked off toward the villa, and you followed—silent, curious, lowkey excited.

but you didn’t expect him to lead you into soul ties.

the producers must’ve given him the green light, because the door was already cracked, candles already lit, bed already made. it smelled like vanilla and something woodsy, sensual. like trouble.

he walked in first. you closed the door behind you.

the air shifted instantly.

he didn’t look at you for a second. just stood there with his hands on his hips, staring at the floor like he was counting backwards in his head.

then finally—

“what the fuck was that?”

you blinked. “excuse me?”

“that challenge.”

you tilted your head. “the one we were told to do by production?”

he looked up, jaw clenching. “you know exactly what i’m talking about.”

you crossed your arms. “i was doing my job, babe.”

“you were doing the most.”

you scoffed, more amused than offended. “so now you mad at me for winning the challenge?”

“nah. i’m mad at the way you wrapped yourself around him like that shit wasn’t national television.”

you raised an eyebrow. “it was blindfolded.”

“you were grinding, y/n.”

“nic.”

“you were whispering shit in his ear.”

“so what?”

“so what?” he stepped forward, hands still on his hips, chest rising heavy now. “he was touching you like you were single. like i don’t sleep next to you every night. like this isn’t us.”

you stared at him for a long second, letting the silence stretch. letting him feel it.

then you smirked.

“you’re jealous.”

his eyes narrowed. “i’m not jealous.”

“you are. you’re mad ’cause someone else touched what you think only belongs to you.”

he stepped even closer. “i know it belongs to me.”

your stomach fluttered. “do you?”

“you really wanna test me tonight?” his voice dropped, rough and low. “’cause i will remind you exactly who this belongs to.”

you leaned up, whispered against his mouth, “then do it.”

that’s all it took.

his mouth crashed into yours like a storm, rough and desperate and messy. his hands gripped your waist, pulling you into him so hard your breath caught. you kissed him back with just as much heat, letting him feel every ounce of power you had over him.

he spun you toward the bed, lips never leaving yours, hands already dragging your top over your head. you stepped out of your shorts, leaving you in nothing but your panties and gold hoops.

he groaned. “fuck. look at you.”

you crawled onto the bed, slow, sultry, spreading your legs a little as you leaned back on your elbows.

“go ahead then,” you teased. “show me.”

he pulled his shirt off fast, the soft cotton clinging to his abs before it hit the floor. his sweats followed, low on his hips, revealing a hard bulge already pressing against his boxers.

he climbed onto the bed, crawling over you, hovering with his hands planted on either side of your head.

“you made me crazy tonight,” he muttered against your skin. “watching him touch you.”

“so make it better.”

he didn’t need another invitation.

his lips trailed down your neck, sucking gently just under your ear, then harder as he moved to your collarbone. you moaned softly, your fingers sliding into his curls, tugging just enough to make him growl.

he kissed down your chest, mouthing over your nipple through your bra, before sliding it off completely. then his mouth wrapped around you, hot and wet, tongue flicking until your back arched.

his hand slid down your stomach, fingers teasing the waistband of your panties.

“these coming off.”

you nodded, breathless.

he slid them down slowly, eyes locked on yours, lips parted like he was watching art.

and then his mouth was on you — no warning, no teasing. he kissed your thighs, then dove in, licking you like it was the only way to survive. tongue flat and firm against your clit, fingers spreading you open so he could really taste you.

you gasped, hips bucking. “oh my god—fuck, nic—”

he didn’t stop. just kept licking, slow at first, then faster, swirling and sucking until your thighs were shaking.

“you gonna cum for me?” he asked, voice rough against your heat.

“yes,” you breathed. “don’t stop. don’t—”

you came with a cry, hands fisting the sheets, your whole body shivering as he licked you through it. and when you finally opened your eyes, he was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes dark.

“still mine?” he asked, grabbing your thigh and pulling you to the edge of the bed.

“always,” you whispered.

“good.”

he pushed his boxers down, thick and hard and already leaking. he stroked himself slowly, then leaned over you, lining up with your entrance.

“look at me.”

you did.

and he pushed in deep.

you gasped, nails digging into his arms as he filled you — stretching you open with a slow, deep stroke that made your eyes roll back.

he gave you a moment. then started moving.

each thrust was purposeful, deep, like he wanted to feel himself in your throat. his hand gripped your hip, the other pressed against your stomach as he watched his dick disappear inside you.

“you feel that?” he muttered. “that’s mine.”

“yours,” you moaned, voice shaking. “so deep, baby—”

he leaned down, kissed you again — this time soft, slow, like he remembered you were his favorite person even when he was pissed.

he flipped you over suddenly, pulled your hips back until you were on your knees. you arched, your cheek pressed into the pillow, and he slid back inside in one long stroke.

“fuck,” he groaned. “you feel too good.”

he picked up the pace, hips snapping into you, the sound of skin slapping echoing in the room with your moans.

he reached under you, fingers rubbing your clit in tight circles while he kept pounding into you from behind.

you cried out, body trembling again. “nic—i’m gonna—”

“cum on this dick,” he growled. “show me who it belongs to.”

you broke with a scream, vision white, walls clenching around him as your orgasm crashed through your body. he came right after, buried deep inside you with a long, low groan, gripping your waist like he’d never let go.

he collapsed beside you after, both of you breathless, skin sticky, hearts pounding in sync.

you turned your head, eyes half-lidded. “still mad?”

he laughed, chest rising. “hell yeah.”

you raised a brow.

he leaned over, kissed your shoulder. “but at least now jeremiah knows better.”

you smiled, pulling the blanket up over both of you.

“you’re crazy.”

“for you?” he grinned, brushing your hair back from your face. “every time.”

⸻

[starryhyuck]

can’t get you out of my mind. (m)

pairing: alpha!jaehyun x afab!omega!reader

words: 16.2k+

summary: the ceremony to choose your alpha mate has arrived.

genre: fluff, angst, smut

warnings: outdated gender roles/stereotypes, some women hating women dynamics (that resolves in the end), mentions of war, mentions of loss during childbirth, disapproval of in-laws, possessive!jaehyun, pregnancy, breeding kink, tiny bit of face riding, bigdick!jaehyun, squirting, knotting, nonstop fucking between jaehyun and reader, public sex, mating

“You must be overjoyed. Your ceremony is soon approaching.”

Sookyung grins at you through the mirror, brushing out the tangles in your hair. She runs her fingers through your scalp soothingly, despite her verbal reminder cutting and exposing your skin like an open wound.

You display a rehearsed smile. “Yes, it will be a momentous occasion.”

“We wait in the thrill for our next alpha,” she says in a repeated line most of the household have been trained to squawk at you.

After dressing you for the night, she exits your bedroom, allowing you the reprieve to breathe by yourself. You lay in your bed, eyes shutting tightly in the hopes of driving away the clouding thoughts of your ceremony.

The ceremony was an ancient ritual upheld in your community to secure the success for future lines for centuries to come. It was developed after a war decades ago between humans and wolves that nearly wiped out both populations, resulting in a tepid agreement to separate both species for the greater good. The violence decimated hundreds of werewolf communities, including most of the ancestors of your own line. Since then, the elders of every succeeding generation have been strict in their ways of treating the new alphas and omegas born from the surviving families.

Every year on the evening of the harvest moon, alphas and omegas who have come of age gather in the town square to be shipped away until the end of winter to locate a suitable match. Born an only child, your pairing with a prosperous alpha was critical to the future success of your family. Your mother and the beta staff of your household raised you to be the picture perfect omega for the ideal alpha you would one day marry.

Months ago, your resolve had weakened towards rebelling against your parents before you succumbed to their wishes. Initially, you believed the ceremony to be a backwards ritual that practically enslaved you to a stranger. You couldn’t put up much of a fight, however, when the struggle of your family’s finances grew heavier with each passing day.

It’s why when Sookyung finally dresses you for your ceremony and walks with you to the town square, you don’t make a scene. You keep your head down as your mother taught you, hands folded on your stomach as you step in line with the other omegas. Sookyung smiles at you when she sets down your packed suitcase, filled with every item deemed necessary by the elders to prepare you for the ceremony.

You always envied your handmaiden for the ease she carried herself with as a beta. Sookyung would never have to worry about bringing her family honor by marrying a strong-willed alpha. All betas were employed as working staff for the communities, keeping the background alive while the alphas took care of the pressing matters in the forefront. Omegas, on the other hand, were seen as nothing but breeding ovens that needed to deliver. When you were younger, before you presented as an omega, you silently prayed that the universe would assign you as a beta instead.

Unfortunately, your prayers were never answered.

“I will see you in a few months,” Sookyung murmurs happily, tapping at your cheeks affectionately. “The staff waits patiently for the arrival of our new alpha.”

Once your ceremony is finished and you are granted permission to return home, your household merges with your alpha’s in accordance with the law. Every staff member under your father’s umbrella becomes a diligent worker for your new alpha. You know Sookyung and the others not only pray that a kind alpha chooses you, but that his fortune is large enough so they do not have to part with any of the current workforce.

She grants you a small kiss on the cheek for good luck before parting, and you watch her tiny figure disappear behind the tree line. You take a small glance at the other omegas surrounding you, also bidding their farewells to their beta handmaidens. Some look like they’re about to cry in fear while others possess a determined expression you know you could never tackle yourself.

The boisterous chatter of the alphas fill your ears, and you straighten your posture and dart your eyes back towards the floor. It’s been years since your mother has allowed you to interact with an alpha. She feared it would accidentally pair you to someone who wouldn’t become your future mate, tainting your reputation in the community as used goods. This will be the first time you encounter another alpha as an adult, and it has your body tingling from head to toe.

The scent of the alphas makes the situation all too real, throwing you in the sudden clarity that in a few months, you will be mated to another alpha and most likely be pregnant with his child. You try to focus on the black leather shoes Sookyung dressed you in that morning, a new pair the elders gifted to your family for the ceremony. You don’t dare look up even after the smell of the alphas grows stronger, indicating their close proximity.

An elder claps her hands to gain your attention. “Very well then, looks like we have everyone. I hope you are all prepared for the next few months of the harsh winter. This will be the time where we expect you to gather together, keeping each other warm as you discover the alpha or omega you will be bonded to for life. I am certain your parents have already stressed the importance of this ritual to you all, so I won’t dawdle on the basics.” The elder’s feet pass by your line of vision but you continue to stare down. “No one may speak with a wolf not mated to you unless supervised, no alphas may claim an omega outside of the moon ceremony, and every alpha and omega must emerge from the winter bonded to another. Any disobedience according to the law is punished by exile. Is that clear?”

A chorus of agreement erupts from every single person standing in the square. The elder offers a hum of satisfaction before instructing you all to follow her to the bus that will transport you to the ceremony lodgings. Alphas are quick to take the omegas’ belongings with them, showcasing their ability to care and provide. An alpha’s hand wraps around the handle of your suitcase and tugs it alongside his. You don’t utter a word, giving a simple nod of gratitude without looking at him.

The ride to the lodgings is filled with anticipation. The elders divide the front of the bus for the omegas and the back for the alphas. The omega seated next to you grins from ear to ear.

“I’ve been waiting for this day since my sixteenth namesake!” She giggles happily. You throw her a polite smile. “They say the lodgings are filled with decadent food and a luxury most of us couldn’t imagine. It might be the only time we get to experience something like this.”

Details of the ceremony are kept secret from the omegas who have yet experienced it. Your mother told you as much as the law allowed her, warning you how difficult the winter can be without a willing alpha to keep you warm and forming alliances with other omegas can be tricky unless you play your cards right.

This isn’t a teenage getaway — it’s a competition. An omega you befriend could be useful to you for a short period, but soon enough, they would become another pawn rivaling your claim on an alpha. It’s much safer to tread by yourself so no one could betray you.

As soon as you arrive at the lodgings, a vast area of land covered in wooden cabins and surrounded by trees, the elder chaperones designate the areas assigned to the alphas and omegas. You are separated into opposite ends of the land, with omegas seeking shelter in the larger homes and alphas pushed into the smaller living areas.

Each omega is granted their own room, which you are grateful for. A handful of years ago, omegas used to share until fights broke out over claims on alphas. The elders became more strategic after the exile of a few unruly omegas, now giving each their own privacy to avoid confrontations.

You had counted the number of omegas on the bus, a total of fourteen rivaling the alpha count of twenty. You knew it was a safety measure the elders took as sometimes two alphas claimed one omega or disobedience of stubborn alphas forced the elders to send them to exile. An omega was more difficult to come by, but alphas were a dime a dozen.

Still, the idea of two alphas claiming you sent a shudder down your spine. You’re not even sure if you would be okay with one, let alone two commanding your every move.

“Dinner is at six,” an elder tells you as she shows you your room. “All omegas are expected to be seated before the alphas.”

You nod, about to thank her before a rumbling of footsteps barrel down the hallway.

“Sorry, Elder Kim. Forgot to hand this omega her belongings.”

You’re too late to dart your gaze away from the incoming alpha, but your breath catches in your throat when you realize who it is. Jeong Jaehyun has his fingers wrapped around the handle of your suitcase, wheeling it inside your room.

Jaehyun is the son of the head alpha of your community. The Jeong family are respected by all across the nation, descending from the ancestors that fought for the wolves’ rights in the war against humans. Every alpha son from their line has ascended to greatness, and with Jaehyun being the current oldest son of the family, he is the most valuable pick of the ceremony season.

The elder’s voice is stern, scolding him. “Next time, you will alert another elder of this omega’s belongings instead of encroaching on her space like this. I won’t tolerate disobedience simply because of your last name, Jaehyun.”

“Yes, Elder Kim,” he replies obediently.

You briefly meet eyes before you avert your gaze, silently reprimanding yourself for indulging in a look. You hear his footsteps slowly fade away.

“That boy,” Elder Kim sighs, shaking her head. She throws you a stern expression. “Dinner at six. We will escort you to the main hall.”

“Thank you,” you say, bowing respectfully.

Elder Kim closes your door and you slacken your shoulders, wrapped in the comfort of being alone. You work at unpacking your suitcase, filled with sweaters and thick coats to protect you from the cold. You find one of the dresses Sookyung bought for you, a long smock ending at your ankles that properly concealed whatever the elders deemed too precious to be seen before the moon ceremony. You throw it on and clean yourself up before Elder Kim knocks on the door again for supper.

You inhale, taking a long look in the mirror.

You can do this.

—

Elder Choi sits you in between Jaehyun and Doyoung, and the other omegas snarl at you over the coveted spot.

Doyoung’s family is right hand to Jaehyun’s, holding nearly as much power as the head alpha. Either one of them would be considered a suitable match for any omega, but you set your sights on an easier catch like Doyoung.

Bonding with an alpha that possesses as much power as Jaehyun is almost impossible for an omega of your status, lowborn with a fortune running thin.

A group of betas begin to serve dinner as you tell Doyoung, “It’s an honor to meet you, Alpha Kim. My family is grateful for your ancestors’ sacrifice during the war.”

It is a sign of recognition to acknowledge an alpha’s successful lineage, a tactic your mother drilled into you from a young age. She taught you as much as she knew about the eligible bachelors of your season, so you know a few characteristics about Doyoung. He’s the youngest in his family but exhibits the traits of an eldest son — steel demeanor, unforgiving rulings, and no room for a silly thing such as love. He’s exactly what you’re searching for in this time of desperation.

“I thank you for the credit,” he replies, offering you a nod. “Are you familiar with the household duties assigned to an omega like yourself?”

Therein lies the unwavering stony demeanor of the infamous Kim Doyoung.

“Yes, I am,” you say meekly. You shyly take a bite of the steak in front of you. “Embroidery and reading are my favorite pastimes, Alpha Kim.”

He hums in approval. “Any books caught your eye recently?”

“The Omega’s Guide to Painting has been very entertaining,” you say, lying through your teeth. It’s considered reckless for omegas to consume any piece of media outside of their class, leaving you with nothing but novels surrounding the fascination of cleaning and cooking. Sometimes you sneak a book out of your father’s library containing details about the late war, but you wouldn’t dare speak that outloud. “I am also fond of The Handbook for Dressmaking.”

“A good read,” he murmurs. “And children? Is that something you’re contemplating?”

You keep your best smile painted on your face. “Yes, Alpha Kim. As many as the moon will grant me.”

The rest of the dinner passes smoothly, and you barely scrape the fork on your plate in fear of seeming too greedy. The other omegas at the table obtain the same values as you, their food nearly untouched. Your stomach growls in discontent when a member of the beta staff eventually takes your meal away from you to clean up.

Following traditional customs, you separate from the alphas when the table is cleared and retreat back to your room. You try your best to tuck yourself into bed and fall asleep, but your growing hunger screams at you. You tiptoe out of bed carefully, checking the hallway for any elders lurking before proceeding back to the main hall. The cabin is dark, all lights shut off as you quietly move into the kitchen. The betas have already cleared the countertops of any remaining food so you check the fridge, the halo illuminating your face.

“You silly omegas.”

You jump nearly three feet in the air, gasping and holding your hand to your chest. You swivel around to see Jaehyun standing behind you, arms crossed and eyebrows raised in amusement.

“A-Alpha Jeong,” you stutter, bowing your head. “I apologize, I wasn’t aware-“

“You omegas are always starving yourselves in front of us. When are you going to realize alphas are never settled when our omegas aren’t taken care of?” He questions, stepping beside you and taking out the leftover steak in the fridge.

You keep your eyes planted to the ground as he moves around you, heating up the meal on the stove.

“Alpha Jeong, you don’t have to-“

“Just call me Jaehyun,” he interrupts gruffly. “Alpha Jeong this, Alpha Kim that- all the rules get so tedious.”

You flush in embarrassment. “We shouldn’t be alone together without an elder present.”

“Another rule,” he sighs, using two fingers to lift your chin up. You meet his gaze head on. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

You swallow, blinking slowly at him. Being this close to an alpha while unmated is against all commands of the elders and betrays every ounce of your omega training, but you nod and say, “Okay.”

“Besides, the elders sleep like they’re dead anyways,” he says with familiarity, which makes you realize that Jaehyun’s grown up around all the elders who have accompanied you to the ceremony because he’s next in line to become head alpha. He steps back from you and resumes cooking at the stove. “So,” he starts, humming. “The Handbook for Dressmaking is a riveting thriller, isn’t it?” He asks you with a smirk playing at the edge of his lips.

“Oh,” you mumble, wringing your hands nervously. “Yes, I believe it was the top book for the omegas in our district.”

He chuckles. “What’s your actual favorite book? Be honest.” He takes out a cutting board and slowly starts peeling the skin of one of the apples on the counter.

“Um- t-that is my favorite book, Alpha-“ you stop and clear your throat, correcting yourself. “Jaehyun.”

“You omegas,” he repeats with a shake of his head. “Always lying, trying to say what you think is the right thing. I don’t want to hear the dictation from your mother’s handbook. I want to hear your real opinion.”

Your heart beats rapidly in your chest. You’ve never told another being about straying away from the traditional omega values. Jaehyun looks at you with an impatient expression, however, and you can’t bring yourself to lie to the next head alpha.

“History retellings about the war are my favorite,” you confess in a gentle voice. His eyebrows raise in surprise. “They provide me with a picture of what we needed to do to succeed as the dominant species.”

It’s not ladylike in the slightest to assimilate oneself to such acts of violence, and you’re certain this would be the final nail in the coffin to ward Jaehyun far from you. Instead, he smiles.

“That’s a new one,” he laughs. “And the children? As many as the moon grants you?”

It’s no secret that after the war, many omegas don’t find it as easy to give birth as they used to. The lingering chemicals and difficult winters led to harsher environments for omegas to successfully carry a pup to term. Nowadays, omegas who strive for more than four children sign their own death sentence. Regardless of the staggering data, the elders teach all omegas that they must give birth to as many pups as the moon will grant them.

“Two,” you whisper, shifting your stare from him and towards the wall. “Just two would satisfy me.”

He hums again, but makes no effort to scold you for your admission. You expect the son of the head alpha to be more strict on the nation’s laws surrounding omega submission, but Jaehyun breaks out of the mold you initially assumed of him.

He slides a warm plate on the counter, filled with the delicious food you resisted eating hours ago.

“Eat well, omega. I thank you for your honesty.”

When he exits the kitchen, your mind reels over the thought that not all alphas are as bad as you believed them to be.

—

“Look at them out there!”

Omegas rush to crowd the window, gawking over the beefy alphas outside. A month has passed since you arrived for the ceremony, and yesterday, the first snowfall made an appearance. The alphas are currently gathering firewood outside in a clear demonstration of power play. Each wolf challenges the next as they collect stacks upon stacks of firewood in their arms, flexing their muscles for the omegas watching to squeal at.

“Jaehyun is so strong,” Doyeon sighs wistfully, nose glued to the glass. “He’s going to be a perfect match for you, Joohyun.”

You learned pretty quickly that the omegas arranged themselves into a pecking order after your first few weeks here. Joohyun was a beautiful girl from the rural village who was nearly guaranteed a good match because of her visuals, and most of the omegas echoed how perfect she would be for Jaehyun.

You, on the other hand, were at the bottom of the food chain. You hadn’t made companions out of any of the other omegas and you never told a soul about the night Jaehyun heated up your meal while unchaperoned. You kept to yourself, occupying your days with the activities the elders laid out for you, such as embroidery and dressmaking.

“It’s not certain yet,” Joohyun dismisses with a giggle. “He won’t even give me the time of day.”

“He’s just nervous!” Yerim insists, laughing with her. “It’s honestly really cute. You’re going to be the perfect omega queen for us.”

You keep your lips pursed, refusing to voice your displeasure at the constant chatter encircling Jaehyun and Joohyun. You hate to admit you think about that night with Jaehyun more often than you would like, sometimes imagining what your life could be if he chose you as his mate. You admonish yourself for feeding into your desires, knowing that they could never come true.

The front door bursts open and the alphas come piling in, throwing firewood down on the living room rug despite the protests of the elders. You carry on reading the novel seated in your lap, refusing to engage in the delighted cries of the omegas praising their alpha’s strength.

“It really wasn’t that hard,” Mingyu laughs, puffing out his chest for Chaeyeon, the omega he’s clearly courting. “Alphas like us are born to carry much heavier loads than that.”

Just as you’re turning the next page of your book, a voice above you asks, “What have you got there, omega?”

Your eyes flit upwards to catch Jaehyun’s, a familiar playful smirk dancing across his lips. You swallow nervously and dart your eyes away from his.

“Embroidery and Embellishments, Alpha Jeong.”

He clicks his tongue. “Fascinating read, I’m sure.”

You smile bashfully at the jest before Joohyun clears her throat, taking the lounge chair across from you.

“Alpha Jeong, I thank you graciously for providing the firewood we omegas need for the incoming frosty weather,” Joohyun says with batted eyelashes.

He brushes her off with a wave of his hand. “No thanks necessary. Alphas are always happy to provide for our omegas.” He takes another glance down at you but you keep your eyes trained on your book, afraid of angering Joohyun’s clear attempt to claim him. “I hope you enjoy your book, omega.”

“Thank you, Alpha Jeong.”

The alphas exit shortly after the elders light the fire, returning to their own cabins. The elders begin to assign you household tasks to keep the lodgings prepared in case of a severe storm. Elder Lee delegates you to shovel snow from the driveway in fear of another omega accidentally slipping on the ice. You bundle up as best as you can, wrapping yourself in a puffy coat and shoving your hands into a pair of warm gloves.

You don’t comment on the fact that some of the more desired omegas, such as Joohyun and Doyeon, were only given the tasks of watching the fire to ensure the light doesn’t flicker out. You suppose even the elders were convinced they would be married to good pairings and soon enough, they would be listening to Joohyun’s orders if she mated the head alpha.

You sigh as you work at shoveling the snow, testing your balance as you plant yourself upright and continue to dig.

“So we’re back to Alpha Jeong, hm?”

You almost scream, turning around to see the source of the sudden voice. Your frantic actions cause you to slip on the ice and you gasp as you feel yourself falling backwards. A pair of arms catch you, encircling your waist and pulling you tight against a warm frame.

Your eyes slowly wobble up to meet with Jaehyun’s.

“You need to be more careful with yourself, omega,” he chuckles, breath fanning over your face. “Can’t have you injuring yourself whilst on duty.”

You scramble to balance on your own two feet as Jaehyun watches you, thoroughly entertained. He gently takes the shovel from your hands and begins to dig.

“Alpha Jeong, you don’t have to-“

He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “The elders shouldn’t have an omega out here, shoveling snow without supervision. If I wasn’t around and you fell, you could be seriously injured.”

You chew on your lower lip, afraid to tell him that the elders will definitely scold you for letting an alpha complete your work. You observe as the muscles ripple down his back and through his arms, showcasing them properly as he dons a sleeveless shirt.

Alphas’ bodies were designed to withstand temperatures like this, even as the wind nips at your face and sends shivers down your spine. Their figures were meant to be warm enough to protect their families during winter, and your heart aches to be clung to his chest again and feel the heat pressed against your skin.

“We used to play together as pups, you know.”

The statement has you reeling, your mind searching for glimpses of a tiny Jaehyun running circles around you. He laughs at your bewildered expression.

“It was before your mother took you away to become a proper omega,” he elaborates, lips curled in distaste towards the end of his sentence. “You used to shove me down and tell me I kept arranging my mudcastles all wrong.”

You briefly recall a rebellious younger version of yourself, ruling the rest of the children on the playground with an iron fist. It was before all of you understood the differences between omegas and alphas, and before your family was sequestered into the lowborn category. Your life as a child was filled with merriment and fun, and it would make sense that you didn’t think twice about pushing around the future head alpha.

“I apologize for my behavior,” you say shyly.

He frowns. “Why would you need to apologize? We were young — that’s what we’re meant to do.”

“Still,” you reply, swallowing your nerves. “An omega of my status should not have been acting in such an unruly manner, Alpha Jeong.”

“Jaehyun,” he corrects. “And stop apologizing. I don’t want to hear you ever say sorry again for behaving in a completely acceptable manner, okay?”

You blink at him, taken aback by his command. “Y-Yes, Jaehyun.”

He gives you a long look before returning to shoveling the snow, the driveway now almost clear from his efforts. The front door to the cabin creaks open and Elder Kim hobbles outside, gasping when she sees the sight of the alpha.

You open your mouth to explain, but she’s reprimanding you before you can get a word out.

“What do you think you’re doing? Allowing an alpha to complete your task whilst unsupervised?”

This is it, you think. This is the moment that she sentences you to exile, forcing you to leave the ceremony lodgings and fend for yourself in the woods alone. You think of your mother and Sookyung, who tried so hard to mold you into a perfect omega who would bring back an alpha they could be proud of. How would they take care of themselves with you gone?

Before you can spiral into the endless possibilities of your demise, the alpha beside you speaks up in your defense.

“And what do you think you’re doing, Elder Kim?” Jaehyun bites back with a scathing tone. “Letting an omega shovel snow on her own knowing she could fall and injure herself. Omegas are sacred in our district, I’m sure you’re well aware. Leaving one unsupervised by any of the elders could bring lasting damage to our community.”

Elder Kim’s face flushes red with anger from being challenged and humiliated by an alpha younger than her. She glances behind her, ensuring the door is closed for no other ears to eavesdrop on your conversation.

“Jeong Jaehyun, you will go back to your cabin and speak of this no further. I will reassign the omega’s duties accordingly.”

“I’m not leaving until this omega is warm by the fire and fed properly,” he says sternly, eyes narrowed.

You squirm, attempting to make yourself smaller to avoid the heated stare of Elder Kim. She barks at you, “Get inside and stay by the fire.”

You shuffle quickly into the cabin, throwing one last look at Jaehyun before you go. He smiles at you before shifting back to his grim countenance at Elder Kim. When you shut the door, the elder’s voice rises.

“If you know what’s best for you, you’ll stay far away from that omega. You know that’s not the one your father approved of you mating with.”

“I didn’t think you amused yourself with such idle gossip, Elder Kim,” he replies mockingly.

“Jaehyun,” Elder Kim scolds. “That omega is not fit for an alpha of your status. She will not be able to lead the omegas who come next in line.”

“You don’t know what she can do,” he hisses, and your heart beats rapidly in your chest. Is he implying that he’s considering you as a potential mate? “All of the elders focus only on themselves instead of the good nature of omegas like her. Isn’t the point of the ceremony to nurture and bond them to an alpha? I don’t see how that’s being accomplished when you have one of them at the risk of catching hypothermia.”

Elder Kim sighs loudly. “Just go back to your lodgings, Jaehyun. And think about if the decisions you’re making are that of a leader.”

“I want her to be looked after more carefully.”

“That is for us elders to determine. You’re not the head alpha yet, don’t start acting like one.”

You saunter off to the living room before you can hear any more, taking a seat on one of the recliners and wrapping yourself in a blanket. Joohyun and Doyeon are painting their nails on the couch adjacent to you, eyebrows raised at the sight of your presence.

“Shouldn’t you be finishing your chore outside?”

You grab your book from the table and prop it open.

“Alpha Jeong did it for me.”

And you finish your book with a smile, ignoring their blatant shock when Elder Choi sets down a warm plate of food next to you.

—

As the wind grows stronger, the elders begin to initiate more intimate activities between you and the alphas.

One of them is a form of speed dating, where an alpha visits you in your room for a few minutes unsupervised while the elders lurk outside the door. You make your best attempt at pushing your discomfort away at a stranger invading your space, especially so close to your nest. Most of the alphas are polite towards you and ask you a few questions before departing to the next room. It’s clear they’ve made their initial claims towards other omegas, as they display no interest in your life beyond childbirth.

“This is a beautiful pillow,” Doyoung says when it’s his turn, picking up one of the cushions you’ve laid in your nest. Your eye twitches slightly at the action. Any courteous alpha should know it’s disrespectful to touch an omega’s nest without permission.

Despite this, you offer him a small smile. “Thank you, Alpha Kim. I made it myself.”

He hums in approval. “Your room is more bare than the other omegas,” he notes, drinking in your empty walls.

“I don’t have much,” you confess. The other omegas were given various presents to celebrate their ceremony by their parents or beta handmaidens, but you were only handed enough sheets and blankets to cover the bed.

He nods again. “I hope you understand I’m searching for an omega who can lead my household without instruction. I’ll be occupied during the hours in the day working for my father and brother, so I need my pack to be organized without the requirement of my presence.”

“Yes, Alpha Kim,” you say meekly. “I am very efficient in handling my own tasks and duties. My mother raised me in accordance with the laws of the ancestors.”

A knock on the door interrupts you, and Elder Lee steps in. “Time’s up,” she says, balancing herself on her cane. “The last alpha is here.”

Doyoung bows in courtesy to you and you return the gesture.

“It was lovely speaking with you. Thank you for your time, omega.”

“I appreciate your attention to detail, Alpha Kim.”

Elder Lee escorts Doyoung into the next room before Jaehyun pokes his head in.

“May I come in, omega?”

Your heartbeat thumps in your ears. “Of course, Jaehyun.”

He grins at the familiar calling of his name before walking in and shutting the door. You blink softly at him, butterflies swarming your stomach at the sight of him in your room. He looks so big compared to your tiny cabin lodge, and the omega inside of you screams to invite him into your nest and make him comfortable.

“Beautiful nest, omega,” he compliments, gazing at the circle of blankets and pillows you’ve built on the mattress.

You smile bashfully. None of the other alphas even bothered to comment on it.

“Thank you.” You suddenly think back to the night in the driveway, and Elder Kim’s words throttle inside of your head. “Have any omegas caught your eye?”

He frowns at the shift in the conversation. “Why would you ask me that?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you-“

“Don’t apologize,” he sighs, suddenly exasperated. “I told you that you don’t need to apologize for silly things like this. Just-“ he swallows, crossing his arms over his chest. “Have the elders been talking to you?”

Since that night, you noticed the elders have been treating you slightly differently. You are no longer assigned the more grueling tasks fit for an omega and your portions at mealtime have grown larger. Joohyun has been staring at you with envy, and you know the other omegas have been whispering about you behind your back.

“N-No,” you deny, shaking your head. “I just thought- um, I thought Joohyun was starting to show an interest in you.”

He shakes his head dismissively. “I don’t care about her. She’s not the right omega for me.” He glances at the clock hanging above the door, and you realize you only have a few seconds left together. “Meet me in the main hall tonight. I want to speak longer with you.”

“But-“

“Time to go,” Elder Choi says, opening the door and throwing Jaehyun a stern look. He follows her obediently, not wanting to stir up any more trouble, leaving you all by yourself again.

You thought you would be relieved by the time the speed dating session was over, but instead, you find yourself coveting more minutes with Jaehyun without having to sneak around. You keep yourself occupied until the late night rolls over the sky. The elders decided to separate you from the alphas for meal time tonight considering there was already sufficient interaction between you today. You eat dinner by yourself in your room instead of joining the omegas at the table, counting down the minutes until everyone is tucked away in bed.

You have enough time to mull over the consequences of your decisions — getting caught with Jaehyun after hours is one thing, but if the elders discover that it was pre-planned and intentional, it would evolve into an entire mess. Nothing would probably happen to Jaehyun, he would most likely get a slap on the wrist and a scolding from his father. You, on the other hand, would be sent to exile and your family would be disgraced by the community for their omega daughter seducing the future head alpha.

Still, you can’t help but disregard all of the red flags waving in front of you. The omega inside of you demands to be near Jaehyun, to talk to him, to let him hold you until the storm passes. It’s a carnal feeling you’re not sure you’ve ever felt before.

You’re light on your feet as you make your way to the main cabin, the wind outside nipping at your cheeks forcefully. You slip into the kitchen without making a sound, afraid of waking any of the beta staff sleeping upstairs.

“There you are,” Jaehyun whispers when you enter, and you squeak. “Oh fuck,” he curses when he sees you shivering. As if on instinct, he crosses the room and pulls you into his arms. “I forgot about the snow outside, I’m so sorry, omega.”

You smile at him. “You said not to apologize for silly things.”

The concern in his eyes is replaced with something softer, and the corners of his lips lift upwards. “I did, didn’t I? Thanks for reminding me.” He doesn’t move an inch, rubbing his hands up and down your arms to seek warmth. “And thank you for meeting me so late. I hope you’re still getting enough sleep.”

Your chest blooms at his constant fretting over you. “I’m doing well, thank you, Jaehyun.”

“I-I wanted to speak with you about what you said earlier,” he mumbles, hand stroking your hair gently. You lean into his touch, almost mewling at how perfect he feels against you. “I hate that you’re thinking about me with other omegas. Truthfully, I don’t want any of them. My alpha’s been calling me to you.”

You freeze in his hold. You take a step back from him and he frowns at you. “Is this some kind of rebellious act?” You question. “I should be your last pick as an omega, Jaehyun. Elder Kim said so herself.”

“So you have been listening to them,” he says under his breath, shaking his head. He pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “I don’t care what everyone thinks they know about me. I-I like you. I’ve liked you since we were pups and I can’t imagine myself being mated to anyone else.”

His words cut through you sharply and you struggle to catch your breath. You’re convinced that Jaehyun doesn’t quite understand the weight behind his words and how much this could alter both of your lives permanently. He’s an alpha destined for greatness and you’re an omega fallen from grace. You can’t possibly work out in the long run.

“I don’t think-“

The sound of light footsteps interrupts you, and both of your eyes widen before he’s pulling you into the corner of the room, concealing your bodies behind the tall refrigerator. You keep your lips sealed shut, body pressed against his warmly. A beta worker steps into the kitchen, frowning when she sees no presence of another wolf before flicking the lights off. After thoroughly checking the living room as well, she treads back up to her bed.

You exhale when she finally disappears before you feel a hand ghost over your cheek. Your eyes lock with Jaehyun’s, who looks at you like no one’s ever looked at you before. There’s an affection in gaze that draws you in, tugging at your heartstrings and begging for you to make room for him. He cages you against the wall, molding his frame against yours. His breath hits your skin before you’re suddenly reminded of where you are.

“Jaehyun, the staff-“

“Please let me kiss you.”

You swallow before you nod, and his lips descend on yours desperately. A burst of light explodes throughout your body, desire swelling deep inside of you. He feels so soft against you and it makes you want to kiss him all day. Your hand reaches to pull at the hairs on the nape of his neck, causing him to groan into your mouth.

You’re not sure if it’s from your incoming heat for the moon ceremony, but you’ve never been this wet before. Slick runs down your thighs and you shamefully whimper, rubbing them together to seek friction. It’s clear Jaehyun can smell your arousal, his moans shifting into growls as his fingers dig into your hips. His lips trace your jaw and he starts to lift up your dress, running against the flesh of your thighs.

“Jaehyun,” you gasp, pushing him away. “We can’t.”

He pants, clearly frustrated. You try to ignore the swell of his hard member straining in his trousers. “It’s not fair. I’m the next head alpha — I should get to choose the queen who will sit beside me.”

You shake your head. “I-I’m sorry, but I think you know it’s best for you to mate with Joohyun and I with Doyoung.”

“Doyoung,” he scoffs, tangling his fingers through his hair. “Doyoung would ignore you at a moment’s notice in favor of chasing the tail of his father. He’s a good soldier, I’ll admit, but he’ll be half the husband I could be for you.”

“He’s safe,” you argue. “He’s a perfectly safe choice for an omega like me. He won’t stir up any trouble and he’ll provide for our pups as needed.”

A snarl erupts from him. “You will never have any wolf’s pups except mine.”

His vocal abhorrence is what stirs another beta worker from their bed, and you pause when you hear the creaking of the wood upstairs. You shuffle away from Jaehyun and he looks at you solemnly.

“I can’t do this with you, alpha. It’s dangerous and I-I just can’t. Please find it in your heart to choose Joohyun instead.”

You slip out of the kitchen and trudge back to your cabin with Jaehyun’s heart crushed between your fingers.

—

“There is a prediction that tomorrow’s weather will be the coldest night of the year, with temperatures dropping below freezing,” Elder Choi says, staring at the handful of omegas before her. They have gathered you in the common space, hands folded on your stomachs obediently. “We are allowing the alphas to choose an omega to keep warm throughout the night. They will enter your rooms after supper tomorrow, and we all gently remind you that no claims are allowed to be made outside of the moon ceremony.”

You glance down bashfully at her words. The omegas surrounding you rejoice happily, squealing to one another at the thought of an alpha’s body wrapped around theirs while the wind cries. You, on the other hand, picture an icy night with Doyoung, who would likely rather curl up on his side of the bed than touch you.

Doyeon raises her hand before Elder Kim calls on her. “And how will you determine the order of the alphas? What if multiple alphas are vying after one omega?”

“We have discussed this with the alphas to ensure they speak to one another before making a decision,” Elder Lee replies. “And the order will go according to status of house, with Jeong being first.”

Every omega turns to Joohyun and giggles except you. You haven’t spoken to Jaehyun in weeks despite his attempts to sit near you during meals or help you with your assigned chores. He has been talking more to Joohyun like you requested, and you hate how your gut stirs with jealousy every time you see them together.

The following night, during supper, you sit in between Doyoung and Chaeyeon. You smile at the alpha sitting beside you. “The weather is taking a turn for the worst. I hope you are able to keep yourself warm, Alpha Kim.” You hand him a basket of bread as he nods.

“Yes, we alphas are not affected by a simple dip in the weather like omegas are. My wish is for you to shield yourself from harm’s way.”

You smile politely at him and bob your head in thanks. Your eyes lift to catch Jaehyun’s across the table, where he is seated in between Joohyun and Doyeon. His fingers are tightened steadfastly around his fork, glaring at you and Doyoung. You swallow and realign your gaze to your meal.

“And what order have you been assigned for tonight’s activity?” You ask Doyoung, ignoring Jaehyun’s blatant stare.

“Second,” he replies. “Your omega will not have to wait long.”

“I appreciate your concern, Alpha Kim.”

You burrow yourself underneath a handful of blankets that night, although it does little to protect you from the howling wind. Your teeth chatter as you curl yourself into a ball, praying for the storm to pass. Your door creaks open and you furrow your eyebrows.

It’s too early for Doyoung to be here. The sun has only just fallen over the horizon, so it couldn’t possibly be him unless-

“May I come into your nest, omega?”

Your head pokes out from underneath the covers to see Jaehyun hovering over you, smiling softly at your shivering form. Your eyes dart between him and the door frantically.

“Jaehyun, you shouldn’t be here-“

“Why? My omega is cold and I’m here to keep her warm,” he murmurs. “Now may I come into your nest?”

You have half a mind to tell him to leave this room and find Joohyun’s, but instead, you lift up the covers so he can climb in. His hands immediately wrap around your waist and he pulls your backside against his front. Your body relaxes in his hold, protected by the heat of his frame.

“Did Doyoung-“

“Don’t say his name,” he growls in your ear. He presses closer against you. “I put him in his place. He knows now not to come near you.”

“Jaehyun,” you hiss angrily. “That was not your decision to make.”

“I can’t stand the thought of him in this room, invading your nest and keeping you warm,” he says through gritted teeth. His hand moves to tangle with yours and your heartbeat picks up its pace. “I’m the only alpha who can keep you safe.”

You sigh, tears threatening to spill over your eye line. “I can’t be the omega they want me to be,” you confess in a small voice.

He kisses your neck softly. “You already are the strongest omega I’ve ever seen. That power, that confidence — it’s hidden underneath the foolish rules your mother taught you to be a ‘good’ omega. You just need to be yourself.”

You bury your face into the pillow, allowing the tears to fall. “I don’t remember who that is.”

He turns you over, wiping your tears away gently. “Let me show you then.” He kisses down your neck, lifting the hem of your sweater to nudge his nose against your stomach.

Your eyes flit over to the door again, fear settling in. “We shouldn't-“

“It’s okay,” he soothes you, tugging your sweatpants down your legs. You gasp at the chill hitting your thighs, goosebumps spreading across your skin. “You just have to be quiet for me, omega.”

“The moon will know of our sin,” you exhale, reciting the words of the elders.

He rolls his eyes, nose nudging against your core. “The moon doesn’t know shit.” You squeak when he sucks lewdly through your underwear, slick coating his tongue. “What I know is my omega’s pussy needs attention and I’m happy to provide.”

He rolls down the fabric until your bare folds hit the freezing air. Jaehyun is quick to lap at the slick dripping down your thighs, coating the bed as your head tilts in embarrassment. His fingers reach to cup your cheeks, shifting your focus on him.

“Don’t look away from me, omega,” he commands in a gruff voice. “Let me see that confidence as I eat this pretty cunt.”

You keep your eyes locked on him as he laps at your core, tongue tracing your pulsing folds. You chew on your bottom lip, fearful of allowing any stray whimpers to fall and risk one of the elders overhearing you. He flicks his tongue over your clit, teasing the nub. Your fingers tangle through his hair, gripping the strands to pull him closer to you. He smiles at your display of dominance, allowing you to use his face as your personal toy.

All etiquette training flies out the window as your hips roll against his tongue, slick continuing to spill from you and into Jaehyun’s waiting mouth. You chase your impending orgasm, riding his face until the band in your stomach snaps. He quickly shoves three fingers into your mouth to muffle your moans. You whine against his digits as he laps at your cunt, grinning vulgarly.

“Such a good omega,” he praises, your legs still shaking from the intense orgasm. He kisses his way back up to your face, removing his hand from your mouth so he can swirl his tongue with yours. You whimper when you taste the remnants of your orgasm on him. “Have the elders been making you take your suppressants?”

Since your first night at the cabins, the elders required all alphas and omegas to take suppressant pills to ward off their incoming ruts and heats. The goal was to ensure you were all ripe and ready for the moon ceremony, which was now fast approaching. They would begin to wean you off of the suppressants in the coming weeks to correctly sync all of you to the ceremony. It was the best way to guarantee pregnancy for the omegas on the first night.

At your nod, Jaehyun sighs. “It’s ridiculous. I should be able to breed my omega whenever I please.” You moan at the thought. He flips you over so that you’re on top, straddling his torso. “Go ahead and claim what’s yours, omega. Show me the omega queen you’re going to be.”

You shakily fumble with his briefs, pulling them down until his cock slaps up against his stomach. Your eyes widen at the length of him, long and thick. You heard rumors that a head alpha’s cock was bigger than most, but you genuinely weren’t expecting this.

“I-Is that supposed to fit inside me?” You squeal, frightened by the idea.

He chuckles, rubbing his thumb against your hip soothingly. “It’ll fit, omega. Why don’t you play with it a little? I promise you it’s not that scary.”

You hesitantly wrap your hand around his base, squeezing gently while he groans. You move your palm up to the tip, catching the falling beads of precum leaking from him and using it as a lubricant. You continue to stroke him, marveling at how his cock throbs and manages to keep expanding at your touch. How is it possible for him to grow any bigger?

“Come on, omega,” he encourages you through bated breaths. He lifts your hips up until your core is hovering over his member. “Take your time, okay? It’ll fit, trust me, your pussy was made for me.”

“Okay,” you whisper, balancing one hand on his abdomen as you slowly sink down. You throw your head back, whining at the stretch until his fingers slip into your mouth again to silence you. You’re not even halfway there yet you feel so full, stuffed to the brim with his cock.

You’re not certain you can go any further until Jaehyun shushes you calmly, brushing off the stray tears you don’t realize have fallen. “Take your time,” he reiterates. “It’s not a race, omega. I’ll be here all night, waiting for you.”

You nod, fluttering your eyes shut before you exhale. You gradually press down until he’s seated all the way inside of you, balls snug against your ass. Slick races down your core to coat both you and him, making the glide easier for you when you start to move.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “What else do you need, omega? Don’t be shy about it, an omega queen never is.”

You duck down to seal your lips together, effectively connecting you to him as your hips swivel around his cock. He grunts into your mouth, spanking you lightly with his fingers that are still smeared with your saliva.

“I need your knot, alpha,” you mutter against his lips. You’ve never taken an alpha’s knot before and you want nothing more than to feel Jaehyun’s cock swell inside of you, stretching you open until ropes of his cum cover your walls.

“Let me feel you first, omega,” he hums, using his hands to guide your movements as you bounce on him.

You rock back on him as the euphoric sensation spreads throughout your body, driving your pleasure to new heights. His cock is big enough to rub against all of the right spots, nudging you closer to your climax. You rut frantically on him until fireworks explode behind your eyelids.

You don’t realize you’ve squirted everywhere until you float back down, blinking to clear the haze in your vision. Jaehyun has one hand covering your mouth and you give him a confused expression.

“You were screaming,” he explains in a fond voice, stroking your hair back. His eyes are sparkling and you glance down, shocked by the amount of slick covering his stomach and the bedsheets. “Messy omega.”

He gently rolls you over so your head hits the pillows, switching positions with you as he slowly slides back into your cunt.

“Want your knot, Jaehyun,” you pant, the last orgasm driving you to exhaustion.

“I’m going to give it to you, omega,” he says, pumping into you desperately. Your wetness is causing a slight smacking sound to fill the room every time his thighs hit yours, which he tries to quiet as much as possible. “My knot’s only for you, my omega. It’ll only ever be for you.”

He buries his head between your collarbones when his knot begins to swell. His teeth sink into your neck, forcing a gasp from your throat. He doesn’t claim your mating gland yet, favoring the spot next to it. You feel like you’re being split open as the base of his cock inflates and tears fall down your cheeks at the mix of pain and pleasure.

And when Jaehyun cums, he cums a lot. So much that it spills out of your pussy and onto the mattress. His knot plugs his cum deep inside, ensuring most of it fills your womb.

He kisses you once more, cupping your cheeks softly. “My omega,” he whispers again, nose brushing against yours. “You’re going to be a wonderful queen. The community will thrive under our rule.”

“You promise?” You question shyly, intertwining your fingers together.

“I promise. It’s just you and me, omega.”

—

“You’re a lucky girl.”

Elder Kim brushes the hair away from your face, applying moisturizing cream to your cheeks gently. She sprinkles flecks of gold across your eyes and sprays hints of jasmine around your neck, and you don’t comment on how Jaehyun would hate it if he couldn’t smell your natural scent under the perfume.

It’s the night of the moon ceremony and you’re more nervous than you’ve ever been.

The last few weeks have been indescribable with Jaehyun, save for the haughty nature from the rest of the omegas. Ever since he publicly displayed his affection by choosing you on the coldest night, the others have declared you the enemy. Joohyun apparently cried the entire evening, sleeping next to a rigid Doyoung who showed no interest in helping her stay warm. She singled you out as a traitor for seducing her alpha and the rest of her army followed suit in the accusations against you.

“It’s not everyday the head alpha chooses an omega of your liking,” Elder Kim says with a sigh. “Jaehyun’s a stubborn one, always has been since he was a pup.”

You smile thinking about your alpha. The time together before your moon ceremony has only made the two of you more insatiable, occupying any unsupervised time with your hands all over each other. You’ve nearly gotten caught a couple of times, but as the suppressants wear off and your heat starts to itch at your skin, you fail to stave off your desire.

“He’ll be a strong head alpha,” you say as Elder Kim pulls your ceremony dress over your head. “Our district is lucky to have him.”

She regards you carefully. “I admit, I initially mistook your subservience for weakness. But I can see now why Jaehyun is so enamored by you. There’s a strength inside of you that I haven’t seen with the other omegas. It rings cause for a great leader, and I’m happy to see it reveal itself more these past few weeks.”

“Thank you, Elder Kim,” you say, offering her a thankful bow.

“Don’t thank me yet,” she murmurs jokingly. “It is said that a head alpha’s children are just as stubborn as the alpha, making them the most difficult pups to raise. Jaehyun was an unruly little boy, and I have no doubt his pups will take after their father.”

You briefly glance down at your stomach. Unbeknownst to her, your belly is already blossoming with Jaehyun’s child after many nights of sneaking around together. When you eventually appear back home, you know a few eyebrows will raise at the timeline of your pregnancy. You hold no care for idle gossip now, however, simply happy by your current state of life.

A warmth burns in your chest and you clear your throat. “Elder Kim, does it always feel this-“

“Strong?” She finishes for you, smiling when you nod. She turns you to face the mirror in the corner of the room and you finally take a look at yourself. Your skin is flushed and your eyes are dilated, making you appear more feral than you’ve ever seen yourself. “You haven’t experienced your heat in months. Tonight you will feel the after effects of the suppressants wearing off.”

A frantic knocking comes at your door and Elder Kim frowns, shouting for the person to enter. Elder Choi comes in, eyes wide in alarm.

“We have an issue.”

“What-“

“I want to see my omega now! Fuck your moronic ceremony!” Jaehyun’s booming voice shakes the entire cabin and you gasp, the sound of him being enough to send a river of slick down your core.

Elder Kim sighs, guiding you by the shoulders until you’re sitting at the edge of your bed. “Stay here while I handle your rowdy alpha.”

You clench your thighs together and lay back on the mattress, the ache of your heat spreading throughout your body. It dawns on you that if your heat was affecting you this much, Jaehyun must be loathing the intensity of his rut hitting him all at once.

The scent of your alpha wraps around you, growing stronger when you faintly hear Elder Kim shouting, “Jeong Jaehyun! That omega is not yours to claim until the moon has risen!”

Then you feel a pair of rough hands flipping you over, pulling your ass into the air and mounting you properly. It takes the strength of all the elders and the swatting of their canes to rip Jaehyun away from you, his teeth bared as he snarls in their hold. You’ve succumbed to the instincts of your heat, whining for your alpha and begging to be stuffed full of his knot.

“Get the other omegas out in the field now,” Elder Choi commands, pulling at Jaehyun’s arms as hard as she can.

“But the moon-“

“If we don’t let this alpha claim his omega in the next few minutes, he’ll kill us all.”

Elder Kim finds a way to convince your alpha to wait while Elder Lee rushes to gather the rest of the omegas outside. You feel the hands of Elder Choi lift you up gently and help you on your feet, readjusting your dress as she walks you out of your room and down the stairs.

You’re still completely out of it, murmuring Jaehyun’s name until Elder Choi soothes you, “We’re almost there, omega.” She leads you to the open field outside, where the snow is just starting to melt on the grass.

All the omegas have huddled around in a half-circle, glaring at you once they catch a whiff of Jaehyun’s scent. Soon after, the alphas filter out of their cabin one-by-one, looking just as jaded as your alpha. It’s clear all of you are reaching your limit in terms of the length of this ceremony. Elder Lee instructs them to stand on the opposite ends of the omegas, effectively completing the circle. Elder Kim is still holding Jaehyun back by his arms as he thrashes and growls from the restraint. You know he could easily break both of Elder Kim’s arms if he wanted, but he prevents himself from taking it too far. Your omega preens at the self-control of your alpha.

“Alright, status of house will decide the order,” Elder Lee says exhaustedly from the middle of the formation, her body weary from fighting Jaehyun off. “We will begin with the blood sharing ritual, and I request for Jeong Jaehyun to demonstrate it for us accordingly.”

Jaehyun easily slips out of Elder Kim’s hold and trots up to Elder Lee, taking the dagger out of her hand. He comes up to you without hesitation and Elder Choi, who is still holding you, prods you forward carefully. Jaehyun takes you into his arms, pressing kisses down the side of your face to ease the unsettled nature of your omega.

“Jaehyun,” Elder Lee reminds him in a stern voice. “The blood ritual.”

Although the omegas have been kept in the dark concerning the ins and outs of the moon ceremony, the alphas were taught at a very young age what would be expected of them when called forward. It’s why you glance warily at the dagger in Jaehyun’s hand while he shushes you softly.

“Not going to hurt you, omega,” he assures.

He takes the blade to his skin, slicing his palm open. You whine at the injury, but become perplexed when he raises his hand to your mouth. He gives you a small nod, urging you to press your lips to the skin. You hesitantly run your tongue over the wound as droplets of his blood cascade down your throat.

“The alpha and omega have become one through the blood ritual,” Elder Lee announces and the rest of the alphas and omegas clap begrudgingly.

Jaehyun cups his hand over your cheek, pulling you away from his cut and molding his lips over yours. Elder Lee clicks her tongue in disapproval but you’re lost in the world of your alpha, fists tangling in the fabric of his thin shirt to pull him closer to you. He ruts against you, his cock already fully hard.

“Jaehyun,” Elder Lee warns. Your alpha ignores her, favoring bunching up your dress in his hands instead. “Jaehyun!”

Elder Kim pushes against his back. “In the circle. You can claim your omega, but you know you must do it in the circle.”

With permission from the elders, Jaehyun leads you into the overarching trees while you stumble through the discarded branches. “Where are we going?” You question, your fingers aching to be wrapped around his cock.

“Where the moon is supposed to bless us, omega.”

You uncover a field in the middle of the woods, looking like the season has suddenly shifted into spring. The grass is clear of any evidence of snow and the birds chirp above you, highlighting the blooming flowers rupturing from the ground. Jaehyun lays you in the middle, and you bring your hand over to shield your eyes from the sudden burst of sunlight.

“W-Where are we?” You ask shakily, taken aback by the change in your surroundings.

“The moon’s circle,” he answers quietly, pulling your dress over your head to see you. His lips immediately latch onto your left nipple, grazing the peak with his teeth while you squeal. “The moon is meant to rise over us and bless us with a child.”

“Oh,” you say, furrowing your eyebrows. “But I’m pregnant with your pup already.”

“That you are, my pretty omega,” he hums, kissing down your stomach. “We didn’t need the silly moon, did we? Just you and me.”

When his tongue laps at your folds, you whine. “Jaehyun, want your knot,” you say, tugging at the strands of his hair.

“Let me get a taste of you first, greedy little thing.”

He cleans up the slick coating your thighs, lapping at your wetness even as you continue to drip into his mouth. Mewls spill out of you as you beg for Jaehyun to grant you some mercy. His tongue and his fingers won’t be able to satisfy you when you’re this deep into your heat, you need his knot, and you need it now.

“Jaehyun,” you whine again. “Please, alpha. I can’t wait any longer.”

“My poor omega,” he coos when he parts from your cunt, making his way back up to your lips. “Need your alpha’s knot? Need to be stuffed full until my cum is leaking out of you, hm?”

You whimper and nod. “Please, please, alpha. Want it so bad.”

He flips you onto your stomach, adjusting you into the same position he had you in when you were in your room. He mounts you like before, taking his cock out and slapping it against your pussy. When he pushes the tip in, your head collapses against the grass as the heat in your belly finally begins to subside.

He’s bigger than he’s ever been, and you’re not certain if it’s from his rut or being able to claim you properly or a combination of both. You scream when he stretches you out regardless, your cunt weeping from his cock splitting you in half. He doesn’t show any mercy on your shaking form, jackhammering into you roughly.

You hear a scoff above you, and your eyes lift to search for the source of the noise. You’re surprised to see Joohyun five feet away from you, arms crossed against her chest as she sneers down at you. Doyoung stands right beside her, averting his gaze from your whining form.

Jaehyun’s hand pushes roughly against your scalp. He leans down to whisper in your ear, “They’re here to watch the head alpha claim his queen, my omega.”

You assume it’s another twisted part of this morbid ceremony — for the alphas and omegas of age to watch their leader degrade his prized mate. You moan louder, putting on a show for them as you grind your hips back onto his cock. Since Jaehyun already knows what it takes to push you over the edge, he wraps his fingers around your throat, pulling your back to his front as he thrusts in deeper.

He exposes your neck for all to see, his fingers hovering over your thrumming mating gland. “Please, alpha,” you whimper. “Please, want to be your omega.”

“Say it,” Jaehyun hisses in your ear. “Say it for all of them to hear.”

“Want you to stuff me full, want to be bred with your pups,” you say without hesitation. Your eyes lock with each of the omegas surrounding you and you smile with pride. “Want you to show them how you’re mine.”

Then his teeth sink into your neck, displaying his claim for your audience to watch. Each alpha growls, their patience running thin to stake a claim on their own omegas. Jaehyun raises his head to snarl at them, effectively silencing their complaints. You shudder as you spasm around him, squeezing onto him for dear life.

“Gonna breed you,” he grunts into your ear, landing a few swats against your ass. “My pretty omega, full of my pups and begging to be stuffed full. I love you, omega, and I’m going to show you just how much.”

The first spurt of cum lurches you forward as his knot expands inside of you. He holds your body steady against his, moaning loudly as he plugs his cum into you. Like the first time, it seems as if he has endless amounts of cum to give you, most of it spilling out of your core.

“Love you, love you, love you,” he whispers into your ear the entire time before turning your head to plant his lips against yours.

A few minutes pass in silence with Jaehyun still cumming into you before Elder Lee clears her throat.

“…Well then, let us leave the future head alpha and the omega queen to their own. Now that the demonstration is over, we will complete the blood rituals and finish the ceremony for the rest of you.”

They slowly filter out of the moon’s circle while Jaehyun’s mouth continues to press against yours, gently lowering the both of you onto the grass. You barely register that they’ve all left, your focus drawn to the fact that your alpha is still rutting into you despite his swollen knot sitting at your entrance making it difficult for him to move very far.

All it takes is a few spankings to your clit for you to clench tightly around him again, gushing over his cock.

“They’re going to have to tear me away to make me stop,” he sighs, biting down on your mating gland once more. “I can’t get enough of you, omega.”

“Don’t stop, alpha, please.”

You don’t separate from Jaehyun that night until Elder Choi comes to collect you, insisting you both wash up and have something to eat in your room. Your alpha slowly fucks you in the shower before feeding you a few apple slices Elder Kim lays at your door. He then takes you again on your bed, against the wall, and on the floor.

Your heat doesn’t subside for a few days, and the elders have to force you and Jaehyun to eat and drink to stay alive. Apparently, you were the only wolves left who weren’t satisfied enough, with everyone else’s heats or ruts wearing off after a day or two.

It’s in the middle of day five when Elder Lee bursts through your door while Jaehyun is eating you out, two fingers deep into your cunt. She clears her throat but is drowned out by your moans.

“Excuse me… Jaehyun… Jeong Jaehyun!”

Jaehyun parts himself from your folds, mouth sticky and dripping from your juices.

He blinks twice before glaring at Elder Lee. “What?”

“Why I’ve never,” she mutters under her breath before tapping her cane on the wooden floors. “The ceremony has been over for days now. Your father has instructed us to return to the district.”

“Okay, have fun.”

He wraps his lips around your clit, sucking at the nub roughly until you’re shaking and squirting for him.

“Jaehyun! You and the omega queen must come with us. You will be crowned head alpha as soon as we return.”

“Then my first order as head alpha is for you to leave me alone with my omega,” he says, rising to his knees and pressing his cock against your entrance. Your eyes are fluttered shut, face down in the pillows while your alpha claims you again.

“We leave tonight. If you are not on that bus, trust me, we will leave you to face the wrath of your father alone.”

The door slams shut as Jaehyun knots you for what feels like the millionth time. As his cum drifts down your thighs, he lays on top of you, being mindful of his weight against your back.

“W-What did Elder Lee say?” You ask, floating on cloud nine.

“She wants us to leave tonight,” he replies while pressing kisses against your shoulder.

“I don’t want to leave,” you whine.

You admit that you despised the ceremony when you first arrived and longed for nothing more than to be back home. Now, however, you have an alpha bonded to you and his pup growing inside of your stomach. You feel like your life has finally fallen into place, and you loathe the idea of someone bursting the happy bubble you’ve created with Jaehyun.

“I don’t either, omega,” he sighs into your skin. “But we have to go home sometime.”

A smile tugs at the corner of your lips. “We have a home together, alpha,” you say, giggling and kicking your feet.

He grins, biting your ear playfully. “Yes we do, my sweet omega. A home for you and me.”

—

The first step off the bus is painful.

The wind whips at your face, causing your eyes to water. Jaehyun pulls you closer to his side, rubbing his arms over your exposed skin for warmth. You first catch sight of Sookyung, her bright smile shining through the crowd of people. Then you notice the rest of the community, some of them greeting their children and welcoming the new additions to their home. The others stare blatantly at you and Jaehyun, whispering to one another with wary expressions.

Your insecurity grows tenfold before you see your mother running to you, enveloping you into her arms as she cries gently.

“You did so well,” she mumbles into your ear. “You’ve made us so proud.”

When you offer your father and Sookyung your greetings, they part to make room for Jaehyun’s family to step forward. Jaehyun’s father looks like an identical copy of him, the only difference being the gray streaks in his hair and the wrinkles near his eyes. His mother is the type of omega the elders desired for you to mold yourself after, her gaze averted to the floor and her hands folded neatly across her stomach. His brother, Sungchan, is only a few years younger but it’s clear he’s a Jeong from the way he stands tall and confidently looks at you.

“Father,” Jaehyun gruffly greets him, intertwining his hand with yours. “This is my omega.”

“Alpha Jeong,” you say courteously, offering a polite bow.

Jaehyun’s father gives you a hurried look before narrowing his eyes. “The elders informed me they had to make verbal threats in order to get you two out of bed.”

You glance down bashfully as Jaehyun smirks. “A ceremony for a head alpha is more intense than any other wolf, I’m sure you remember.”

“You’re not head alpha yet,” his father bites back in a stern tone. He scans the area to ensure no one else heard his outburst. “We will return home and discuss this matter privately.”

You give Jaehyun a worried look but he simply smiles, leaning over to kiss you reassuringly. He holds your hand the entire walk back to his house, a grand estate gifted to the head alpha’s family that stretched for acres and acres of unoccupied land. Sookyung’s eyes nearly pop out of her head when you arrive.

Numerous beta staff greet you at the entrance, taking the bags from your arms and rushing to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

“My office,” Jaehyun’s father barks at your alpha.

Jaehyun presses another kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be fine, omega. You go ahead and wait in our room for me.”

Jaehyun’s mother smiles at you when Jaehyun disappears upstairs, offering to show your family to your new living quarters. She leads you into a master bedroom on the top floor, the interior covered wall to wall in artwork that looked like it was taken out of a museum. A king sized bed sits in the middle of the floor, clothed with luxurious silk sheets and more pillows than you’ve ever seen in your life.

“We had it remodeled in preparation for your arrival,” Jaehyun’s mother shares, her obedient smile never wavering.

“I am honored by your hospitality, my queen,” you thank her, mesmerized by the state of your new room.

Jaehyun’s mother nods politely before she and your parents slip away to find their own rooms. Sookyung squeals in excitement at the size of the closet, chatting about all of the new dresses she plans on purchasing for you with your newly acquired wealth.

“I’m going to use the bathroom,” you say to Sookyung, who is wrapped up in the various perfumes spread out on your vanity mirror.

She waves you off and you sneak down the hallway, searching for the office belonging to Jaehyun’s father. You come across a small room near the staircase, and your heart jumps when you hear yelling from the other side of the closed door.

“-Shame to our family! Can you imagine what your mother and I thought when Elder Kim reported back that you chose some lowborn omega as the future matriarch of this household?”

Glass smashes against the wall and you almost gasp in surprise. “Talk about my omega like that one more time and I will rip you in half,” Jaehyun snarls.

“You are a child,” his father’s voice seethes. “We have spoiled you for far too long and I will not tolerate it any further. I was already hesitant when you began this schoolyard crush on her but I should’ve known well enough that you would see it the whole way through. I have half a mind to name Sungchan as head alpha instead.”

“Go ahead,” Jaehyun scoffs. Your hand trembles at the firmness in his tone. “Your threats mean nothing to me. It won’t change the fact that I love the omega I’ve bonded with, and I will love our child more than you ever loved me.”

“…You’ve already impregnated her?”

“Yes, father,” Jaehyun replies, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “We didn’t leave the bed for days, remember?”

Guilt sinks deep into your bones and you unsteadily hobble back to your room. Sookyung’s admiring the silk sheets laid over your new bed, but she frowns when she sees you. She rushes to your side, helping you sit down on the edge of the mattress.

“Are you alright?” She questions, raising the back of her hand to your forehead to check for a fever.

“I-I’m just a little nauseous.”

“Oh, that’s a wonderful sign!” She giggles, clapping her hands together excitedly. “Nausea is one of the first signs of pregnancy. Allow me a moment, I will request for the cooks to make a recipe one of the elders taught me to soothe your stomach.”

She rushes out the door and you sigh, resting your hands over the top of your stomach. Tears well in your eyes, fear sinking in that your presence has only made Jaehyun’s life worse. You knew this would happen from the moment he pursued you yet you allowed it to continue regardless of the consequences.

Hands rest on your thighs and soft kisses press against your face while you sob. “My pretty omega,” Jaehyun says, voice strained. “What’s wrong? Do you not like the room? Do you need to make a new nest?”

“Your family hates me,” you reply, shaking your head. “I’m a burden to you.”

“Stop that,” he growls, wiping the tears falling down your cheeks. “I never want to hear you say that again.”

“It’s true. You shouldn’t have chosen me as your omega. I knew it well enough but I disobeyed the elders and now your father threatens to take away your leadership as head alpha.”

He rests his forehead against yours. “Please, omega. You and our pup mean everything to me. I never want you to think you’re not good enough. I thought we left all of that nonsense behind at the ceremony?”

“Jaehyun,” you say, still sobbing furiously. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to shower my omega with the love she deserves until she realizes she’s more than enough for me.”

He envelops you into his arms and lays the both of you against the pillows, licking your tears away. His hand rests protectively over your stomach. Your cries turn into giggles when he continues to pepper kisses all over your face.

“My sweet omega,” he coos. “Never want to see you cry again. It breaks my heart.”

You sniffle and nod. “I just don’t want to crush your dreams.”

“My dream was always you, omega. Being head alpha means nothing to me if I don’t have you. And you mustn’t worry about my father, his words have always been empty threats.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

He’s proven right when Jaehyun is crowned head alpha the next day. From dusk until dawn, the community celebrates the rise of their new leader, accompanied by mountains of food and the elders dancing happily in a circle until their feet have blisters. Jaehyun keeps you by his side as each member comes up to you, congratulating Jaehyun as the new head alpha and you as the new omega queen. Your alpha is particularly chuffed when one certain couple approaches you.

“My queen,” Joohyun says with a polite bow, curling her hands into fists. “We pray to the moon to grant you and the head alpha a happy coupling.”

“May the moon bless you with many pups,” Doyoung echoes next to her, keeping his stare far away from you.

Jaehyun narrows his eyes at him and smirks. “Yes, we do hope for another pup to add to the household,” he says before his hand curls softly around your stomach. “They would make a great sibling to this one.”

“Y-You’re already pregnant?” Joohyun gapes, jaw dropping open.

You smile and rest your hand on top of Jaehyun’s. “Yes, we have been expecting for quite a while now.”

You watch her mind run through the timeline before she smiles tightly.

“May the moon bless this pup and more to come, my queen.”

The night ends with Jaehyun claiming you in your new bed, hips snapping roughly as he molds his lips over yours. “My omega,” he whispers into your mouth. “All mine, right? No one else?”

“Just you,” you pant, whimpering when his thrusts pick up speed. “Only want you, Jaehyun.”

“And you’ll only ever have me, omega.”

As he fucks you until the sun rises over the horizon, you wonder if this is what heaven feels like.

—

You’re six months into your pregnancy and your hormones are running wild.

Sookyung dotes on you hand and foot when Jaehyun isn’t around. As head alpha, he’s normally gone during the day to train new wolves and ensure the community is stable. He doesn’t float back into your shared bed until after the moon rises. You don’t complain much since you understand his duties are crucial to the heart of your district, but you still long for him when he’s away.

Before he leaves every morning, he checks your nest to secure all of the blankets holding the walls up and offers you his shirt from the night before to ease your omega with his scent. You spend the majority of the morning curled up in your nest with his shirt tucked under your chin, breathing in his scent and quelling your nerves.

One particular day, however, has your emotions darting all over the place.

Sookyung tells you later that you were inconsolable, crying for your alpha and refusing to speak with anyone who wasn’t him. You turned down all of the meals the staff offered you and growled at them when they drew anywhere near your nest. Your feral behavior forced Sookyung to fetch Jaehyun from the training grounds, bringing him back to your whimpering form as you curled into a ball in the middle of the bed.

“My poor omega,” he murmurs as he climbs into your nest, pulling your back to his chest. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re always gone,” you say in a small voice, and Jaehyun swears his heart shatters into two. “You’re always leaving me and you don’t love me anymore.”

The reasonable part of your brain echoes that your over dramatics is a result of the next head alpha growing inside of you. Elder Kim warned you when she visited you a week prior, taking a glance at your struggling figure as you shakily rose from the couch to greet her.

“That pup inside of you will be a strong one, my queen,” she said to you with a stern tapping of her cane. “I was with Jaehyun’s mother when she first got pregnant with him. That pup nearly drove her from a graceful queen into a feral mutt.”

You think back on her words now, as you thrash against Jaehyun’s hold in an attempt to get him far away from you.

His voice sounds utterly heartbroken. “My omega, how could you ever think that? You’re my whole world, all I want to do is occupy every minute of every day with you. I love you more than anything else.”

“Then why are you always spending every waking second away from me?” You hiss back at him.

He growls at your bratty behavior. “Omega, you know I have responsibilities to the community. I would much rather be with you than be out there training those unruly pups, you know that.”

You huff, telling him he’s making excuses as you continue to face away from him. You feel one hand grip the inside of your thigh roughly before he’s propping it against his hip. His cock grinds into your clothed puffy folds until you whine.

“I know what you need,” he says into your ear, your wetness spilling out of your underwear and coating his tip. “My baby omega needs her alpha to give her his knot, hm? Show her how much he loves her with his seed?”

You bite down on your hand to prevent a moan from spilling from your lips. Jaehyun has learned that your sudden bouts of arousal was another side effect from your pregnancy, with you sometimes interrupting his council meetings just so he could mount you against the dirt floor outside. Often when you get needy like this, he knows it’s because you want his cock to stuff you full.

He rips your underwear off before pressing his tip against your entrance. “Tell me you know how much your alpha loves you, omega, or you won’t get my knot today.”

“I-I know,” you blubber, pushing back on him. “I know, alpha. You love me so much.”

“Yes, I do,” he hums as his cock stretches you open. “I love you and our pup in your belly more than any of these other fucking wolves. It pisses me off, knowing that I spend more time with them than you.”

The reminder springs tears in your eyes again. In the span of a few minutes, you shift from rage to lust to sorrow.

“I wish you were here all the time.”

He gently flips you on your back, hovering over your frame and leaning down to kiss you. You know your words cut through him like a knife. You’ve learned after months of being mated to Jaehyun that he didn’t care much for other people’s opinions except for you. When his father screamed at him for impregnating a lowborn omega, Jaehyun sent him off to live at the furthest end of the estate so that you wouldn’t have to hear his insults. When the elders complained about you not stepping up to your duties as omega queen by teaching the younger omegas how to clean and cook, Jaehyun threatened to exile them from the community for speaking down at you. But when you confronted your alpha about the beta staff in your household not being paid their correct dues, he signed off on raises for every working member without question.

It scares you sometimes how much power you hold over him.

It’s why you know your accusations of him abandoning you cut deep, but the words fall from your mouth without a filter.

“I’m going to figure out a way to be here more often, my omega,” he whispers into your skin. “I promise I’m not going to let you feel this way again.”

Minutes pass before you’re clenching down on him and he’s spilling inside of you, the base of his knot swelling as he pumps his seed deep inside your womb. He holds you in his arms when he’s finished, stroking your hair gently.

“I’m sorry I said all of that,” you say shyly. “I didn’t mean it. I understand you have to handle the future of our district.”

“Omega, don’t apologize for silly things. I’m the one who’s sorry for ever making you feel this way. I will speak to the elders tomorrow about carving out more time in my day for you and our pup.”

“You don’t have to-“

“I want to, omega.”

“I hope this pup isn’t as stubborn as you are,” you grumble, glancing down at your bulging stomach.

He smiles, dimples peeking out. “I hope they’re just like their pretty mama.”

—

“Be careful, Seojeong. You don’t want to injure Hyojung permanently, do you?”

The younger girl frowns and pouts, apologizing to her comrade and laying down her sword. You smile gently and offer her a nod of appreciation, your hands resting over your protruding bump.

“Please take a seat, my queen. I’m certain your feet are tired from standing all day.”

You shake your head at Elder Choi. “I’m doing perfectly fine. I want to be here when they learn this.”

Shortly after your hormonal blubbering to Jaehyun, he passed a new rule within the community wherein the younger omegas would be taught by the omega queen in the same training grounds as the younger alphas. It was initially met with pushback, as the elders deemed it unseemly for omegas to be practicing sparring in any format and with the alphas in proximity, of all people. Jaehyun, however, understood how important it was for omegas to learn combat if they ever faced any real danger.

You also know he developed the law so he could get to spend more time with you.

You look across the yard to watch him presiding over the alphas, eyes surveying them as they spar one another. His gaze lifts up and locks on you, and a smile stretches over his face. Eventually, he’s jogging over to your form, one hand cupped over your stomach while he kisses your lips. The other omegas coo at the sight of their head alpha and omega queen displaying such affection.

“How are you?” He mumbles softly. “Are you feeling okay?”

Last week, the community unfortunately lost an omega during childbirth, the pup being her third son. The newborn baby made it out safely but the mother passed away due to complications from the delivery. Since then, everyone has been on their toes around you, worried about the birth of the next head alpha as you near your nine-month mark. Jaehyun especially indulged you, never drawing his attention away from you for too long.

“I’m doing just fine, alpha,” you giggle, stroking his cheek fondly.

“The omega queen is teaching the others very well,” Elder Kim says to Jaehyun from her spot in her chair. She pauses knitting the scarf in her lap. “They have made good progress, alpha.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he says, scanning the vicinity to see a myriad of wolves improving their battle skills. It filled his alpha with pride to watch the community flourish under his rule. He nudges his nose against your cheek. “Maybe we should retire for the day, my omega.”

“Jaehyun, I’m fine-”

A sharp pain in your abdomen causes you to gasp and double over. The yard falls into complete silence before the elders are scrambling, multiple hands grabbing your arms and propping you against them. Yelling ensues, the majority of it coming from your alpha barking orders.

“Fetch the midwives now!”

“If I see one bead of sweat fall from her perfect face, I’ll break your fucking limbs.”

“Everyone clear the fucking area! Go home and pray to the moon you worship so much!”

“Jaehyun,” you manage to choke out while Elder Lee is throwing your arm over her shoulder. The alpha turns back to you, a terrified look in his eyes. You smile and brush his hair back with your fingers. “Please shut up.”

Jaehyun keeps his lips sealed shut while the elders and nearby omegas help you into the nearest home. They bang the door open, and you hear a few surprised screams fill the air.

“W-What’s the meaning of this?”

You look up to see Joohyun and her beta handmaiden on the couch of her living room.

“Clear the room,” Elder Choi instructs in a stern tone. “The queen has gone into labor.”

There’s a mix of shuffling before you’re gently being laid down on the floor, surrounded by piles and piles of blankets as more omegas emerge through the door to bring their offerings. It was custom for all omegas to be present during the birth of the next head alpha, bearing gifts of pillows and comforters to ensure the omega queen’s relief during birth.

Jaehyun holds your hand tightly next to you, propping up your head on one of the pillows and staring down at you with concern. You smile and squeeze his hand to relieve his stress. You look to the other side of you to see Joohyun hovering warily, startled by the unanticipated presence of nearly every omega in the community filling her home.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur quietly to her through the chaos. The midwives have finally arrived and are instructing the rest of the group how to position themselves. “I didn’t mean to burden you like this.”

“You didn’t burden me, my queen,” Joohyun replies obediently. “It is an honor to be able to accept the birth of the next head alpha into my home.”

“Don’t lie,” you say, patting her hand softly. “It’s unbecoming of you.”

The corner of her lips quirk up in amusement.

One of the midwives lays a damp cloth over your forehead. She checks your pulse before preparing your lower half for the delivery. You keep your eyes on Jaehyun the entire time, who frantically darts his gaze back and forth between the multiple midwives discussing the best practices.

“My alpha,” you murmur, tucking loose strands of his hair behind his ear. He offers you a wide eyed look and you laugh. “I’d like to hear your voice now.”

“You’re doing so good for me, my omega,” he says, pressing his forehead against yours. “Going to give birth to such a beautiful pup.”

“Alpha Jeong, you must leave us. It is custom for the head alpha to wait outside while the pup is born.”

A whine escapes your throat at the same time Jaehyun’s head snaps to Elder Kim, baring his teeth and growling. The room grows quiet at their head alpha’s displeasure.

“I am not leaving my omega here alone, is that understood?”

You witness a crowd of tentative nods before the most excruciating pain of your life rips through you. Your back bends off the floor as you scream in agony, and another hand grasps onto you for dear life. You blink twice before Sookyung’s blurry figure comes into vision. She nods happily at you, tears streaming down her cheeks. You know she’s waited longer than you for this day to finally arrive.

You give birth to a healthy pup after hours of intense contractions and moans of discomfort. Jaehyun stays by your side through all of it, gripping your hand and kissing your face lovingly.

As you complete your last push and your baby’s cries fill the air, you’re shocked when the midwife shakily says, “It’s a girl.”

The omegas in the room gasp. Every single one of them thought you were due to have an alpha male from how strong your pregnancy had been. The midwife hands Jaehyun your pup and he looks down at her with warmth filling his gaze.

He says with tears spilling over his eye line, “Praise for the next head alpha.”

—

“Mama, mama!”

You grunt as your youngest daughter rams into the back of your leg. You turn to pick her up, ceasing your watch from the omegas on the training yard. The sun beats down on all of your figures and you wipe the sweat from your brow.

“What is it, my little troublemaker?”

Then, your oldest daughter also collides into your stomach, pointing at your youngest accusingly.

“She’s lying!”

“No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are!”

“I haven’t even said anything!”

“Girls,” you say, giving them both a cross look. “One at a time.”

Your youngest pipes up first. “She threw mud into Jihoon’s face!”

“She’s lying!”

“Am not!”

“Am too!”

“Alright,” Jaehyun sighs, approaching you after watching you struggle to hold in your laugh. “What’s going on here?”

“Your daughter threw mud into Doyoung’s son’s face,” you summarize, one eyebrow raised at him. He snickers into his palm and you elbow him. “Jaehyun.”

He fixes his expression, staring at your oldest with a stern look. “Is that the proper behavior of the next head alpha?”

Your oldest daughter hangs her head sullenly. “No,” she grumbles.

He crouches down and plays with the ten-year-old’s pigtails. “You can throw all the mud you want when you’re the next head alpha, sweetheart, but only to people who deserve it,” he says with a fond smile.

“Jaehyun,” you hiss as you kick him lightly.

“But he did deserve it, daddy! He was telling me how cute I am. I am not cute!”

Your alpha’s face shifts into one of a protective father. “And where is this boy?”

“Jaehyun,” you sigh one last time. You place your youngest on the ground and stare at your oldest in disapproval. “I won’t have any more reports of disobedience from you. You’re going to be a good little wolf and apologize to that boy.”

“Yes, mama.”

The two children take off running down the yard, holding hands like they never fought in the first place. You stare at your alpha, arms crossed over your chest. He’s still looking after your girls with a frown on his face.

“I don’t want you finding that boy and scolding him, Jaehyun.”

“She’s too young for suitors,” your alpha exhales, running his fingers through his hair.

“I remember a much younger version of myself pushing around the man who would become my bonded mate too,” you say, stepping forward and kissing him softly.

He huffs. “That’s not going to happen for her any time soon.”

“You have to let them grow up, alpha,” you say affectionately, nuzzling your head into his neck. “Maybe I can help you take your mind off it.”

Your hand slithers down his chest and he growls when you get dangerously close to his stiffened cock. He leans over to nip at your ear.

“And how did I get stuck with such a little minx for an omega?”

this fic was posted for early access to the $5 tier on my patreon, which you can access here!

[ijustwannabecool]

Property of M.V.

Max Verstappen x wife!reader

----------

Summary... Everyone sees Max as ice-cold and unshakable, but you’re the only one who knows how anxious he gets before the first race of the season. You’ve always been the one to calm him down. And after the win? He makes sure you know just how much he needs you.

TW: Contains explicit sexual content, strong language, and adult themes. Minors DNI.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Everybody thinks Max Verstappen is this unshakable, hyper-focused, stone-cold competitor. The ice king of the grid. Stoic. Calm. Untouchable.

But that couldn’t be further from the truth, not right now.

Not when he’s slumped in the corner of the Red Bull motorhome, his long legs folded awkwardly, and his body curled into the lap of the one person who always knows how to calm him down.

His wife.

Her arms are looped tightly around his waist, fingers dragging slow lines up the inside of his fireproofs, just beneath the hem of his team tee. Her cheek is pressed to the center of his back where she can feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

“It’s just the first race,” he mutters, voice raspy with anxiety. “What if we messed something up in setup? What if the tires fall off early again? What if I get overtaken at turn one?”

“Max,” she says softly, rubbing just beneath his ribs, “you’ve won three world titles. You could run this circuit blindfolded and still make podium.”

“But what if—”

“Hey,” she cuts him off, one hand moving to cup his jaw as he twists to look at her. “You’ve been doing this since you were what, five years old? I’ve been with you since Formula 3. You’ve always figured it out. And you always will.”

He closes his eyes and leans into her, lips brushing the edge of her collarbone. “Can’t believe I still get this nervous.”

“Means you still care,” she shrugs with a smile, nose brushing his temple. “Besides, once you’re in the car, you’re not nervous. You’re unstoppable.”

There’s a knock at the door, followed by a call.

“Max, ten minutes till pitlane. Let’s go, mate.”

He stands up slowly, shakes out his hands, and grabs his balaclava. But before he steps out, he turns to her.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re my lucky charm. You know that, right?”

“Always,” she says, rising to her feet to meet his lips. It’s soft but lingering, full of meaning and a silent promise.

“See you after the win,” he smirks, that signature Verstappen confidence returning as he slips on his helmet and disappears.

—

Of course, he wins.

Because that’s what Max Verstappen does.

After the champagne, the podium interviews, the media storm, he barrels down the paddock halls in search of her. Everyone wants a piece of him: reporters, engineers, even Christian with a proud grin. But he only has eyes for one.

She’s chatting with Kelly and some of the mechanics near the back of the garage, still in her Red Bull jacket and skinny jeans. When she spots him, she knows exactly what that look means.

“Max, I’m talking—”

“Nope,” he says simply, looping an arm around her waist and tugging her flush against him. “Need you. Now.”

“Max! There are photographers—!”

“Let them look,” he growls, already walking her backwards toward the private room behind the garage. “They should know what belongs to me.”

The door slams shut and she’s immediately backed up against it, laughing breathlessly.

“Jesus, Verstappen. You win one race and turn into a caveman.”

He palms her ass roughly, pulling her hips into his. “Wife wore something special for me today?”

“Maybe,” she teases, pulling off her jacket to reveal a tiny Red Bull crop top and low-rise jeans. But it’s what’s underneath that does him in.

When he peels the waistband down just enough, there it is.

A lace thong, deep navy, with the words “Property of M.V.” embroidered in white.

He goes feral.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, sinking to his knees in front of her, tongue already licking a stripe up the fabric before she can protest.

“Max,” she whimpers, gripping his shoulders for balance, “they’re gonna be looking for you—”

“They’ll find a locked door and an empty garage,” he shrugs, pulling the lace aside and licking into her with all the desperation of a man who just survived a 57-lap war and still had energy to burn.

She’s already trembling when he slips two fingers inside her, crooking them just right. “Fuck ... baby ... oh my god.”

He groans against her clit, eyes dark and wild. “You’re mine. You hear me?”

“Yes, Max...fuck—yes.”

When she comes, it’s with a breathy moan that he swallows against her mouth, rising to kiss her properly.

He undoes his suit belt with one hand, guiding himself into her without hesitation. She’s already so wet it’s effortless.

It’s fast. Frantic. His thrusts have that signature Verstappen aggression; all gas, no brakes, and her leg is wrapped around his hip as her back thuds rhythmically against the door.

“You’re so loud,” she gasps.

“Good. Let them hear,” he pants. “Let them know who’s fucking you.”

Her fingers dig into the base of his neck, moaning his name as she comes again.

He follows a moment later with a groan of her name, biting at her jaw and shuddering as he finishes deep inside her.

They stay there for a beat, catching their breath, foreheads pressed together.

“Welcome back to the season,” she whispers.

He chuckles, kissing her gently this time. “Best start I could ask for.”

—

The first race-day photo upload on Instagram?

MaxVerstappen1: Bahrain GP ✅ 📸 A picture of Max, shirtless in his race suit tied around his waist, sitting on his wife’s lap, head tucked into her neck, her nails dragging along the Red Bull logo on his back.

Caption: Property of M.V. 🔒❤️

----------

A/N:

Listen. Max Verstappen has feral post-win energy and you can’t convince me otherwise. I wanted to give us the image of a Red Bull motorhome, locked door, him all flushed and possessive, and her in that “Property of M.V.” thong. It just felt right. Hope you enjoyed this spicy little scene! 💋💙 If you liked it, reblogs and comments make my whole week. 🫶

☕️ Support me on Ko-fi: ko-fi.com/ijustwannabecool Every little bit helps me keep writing and dreaming of publishing one day. Thank you

[rrysbabydoll]

She’s Feeling Better

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

CW: Explicit sexual content, light spanking, d/s dynamics, needy Y/N.

Synopsis: At dinner with Harry’s friends, needy and whiny Y/N can’t stop nuzzling him. Seeing she’s not feeling well, Harry takes her to the bathroom for a quick, quiet moment together.

You were already a little floaty before dinner even started.

Something about the way Harry looked tonight, black trousers sitting low on his hips, button-down shirt slightly undone, Saint Laurent cologne so warm and heady it made your knees wobble, just did something to you. He was being sweet too, extra sweet. Helping you into your chair, rubbing your back gently with his warm palm, giving you those soft eyes like you were fragile.

And the room was loud. Too loud. You didn’t really know everyone, just a few of his close friends, but even that felt overwhelming. So instead, you stayed close to him. Pressing your thigh against his under the table. Resting your cheek on his shoulder when no one was looking. At some point, you just started nuzzling him. Quietly, desperately.

He turned toward you with a knowing little smile.

“What’s wrong, bunny?” he whispered, close enough that only you could hear it.

You couldn’t answer. You just looked at him, blinking slowly, eyes blown wide and glossy. You didn’t feel sick exactly, but something was off. Warm, fuzzy, a little dizzy with need. All you wanted was him.

You leaned closer and inhaled, nose brushing against his neck. His scent, his warmth, everything about him was pulling you in like a magnet. You whispered, “You smell so good, H.”

His fingers brushed your thigh under the table, subtly. “Mmm, lovie… you’re not feeling well, huh?”

You shook your head. Bottom lip stuck out in the tiniest pout, and he noticed. Of course he noticed.

Harry cupped the back of your neck and pressed a kiss to your temple. “Gonna take you to the bathroom for a sec, alright? Jus’ wanna check on you.”

You nodded fast, nuzzling once more under his jaw, breath shaky. Your whole body ached for him.

He stood smoothly and took your hand. “Excuse us,” he murmured to the group, smiling charmingly as he pulled you gently from your seat.

“Everything okay?” one of his friends asked, slightly concerned.

Harry gave them a soft chuckle. “Yeah. Think she’s not feeling well, just gonna make sure she’s alright.”

The moment you were inside the bathroom, the switch flipped.

Harry locked the door with a soft click, then turned to you. His eyes immediately scanned over you, your flushed cheeks, damp lashes, lips parted, pupils blown wide.

“You’re so needy, huh, baby?” he said lowly, stepping into your space. “Couldn’t sit still, couldn’t stop rubbing on me like a little bunny.”

You whimpered, arms wrapping around his neck as you pressed close, grinding a little against his thigh, just to get some friction.

“Fuckin’ knew it,” he muttered, dragging you backward until your bum hit the marble counter. “Didn’t even touch your food. Just sat there looking at me like you were gonna cry.”

“I needed you,” you breathed.

“I know, lovie. Poor thing,” he cooed, brushing your hair off your face, so tender.

Your eyes welled up instantly. It was so embarrassing, but you couldn’t help it. You were trembling with want.

Harry tilted your chin up with two fingers. “Gonna take care of you. But you have to be quiet, okay? You make one sound, I’m stopping.”

You nodded fast.

“I mean it, bunny. If I hear even a whimper, I’ll stop and take you back out there. Understood?”

“Y-Yeah.”

He kissed you, slow and soft, tongue curling gently around yours before his hands pushed up your skirt. He helped you up onto the counter, pulling your underwear down your thighs and stuffing them in his pocket like he always did. The way he looked at you was so sweet, even now, like you were the most precious thing in the world.

He stroked a finger through your folds and groaned softly. “Already soaked for me, huh? No wonder you were actin’ up.”

You let out a tiny gasp and immediately regretted it.

Smack.

The spank landed sharp on your thigh. Your whole body jolted.

Harry's eyes darkened. “What did I say?”

You teared up, lower lip trembling. “I’m sorry…”

His voice softened, but the edge stayed. “If you make another sound, I’m stopping. You know I will, bunny.”

You nodded, pouty and wet-eyed.

He slid inside you with one long, slow thrust, one hand over your mouth and the other gripping your hip. The stretch made you whine into his palm, but you kept it quiet. Just like he asked.

“You’re so good for me,” he whispered, breathing hard. “So fuckin’ tight… fuck. Can feel how needy you are.”

Your eyes fluttered, and he rocked into you gently, over and over. The sound of his hips against your thighs was obscene, but you didn’t dare make a sound. Your nails dug into his shoulders, desperate.

Harry kissed your temple, murmuring, “Shh, baby. Just take it. I know it’s a lot, I know. You needed it so bad, didn’t you?”

You nodded helplessly, tears slipping down your cheeks, overwhelmed with the pleasure.

His hand stayed at your mouth, pressing soft little kisses to your cheek as he fucked you through it. Slow and mean, then a little faster, but always careful. You clenched down around him as you came, body wracked with shivers and your mouth muffled by his warm palm. You whimpered softly into it, and he praised you for staying quiet.

“Good girl… such a good baby for me.”

When he came, he groaned low into your neck, holding you close and stilling deep inside you. You trembled in his arms, your whole body limp and satisfied.

He cleaned you up gently with a few paper towels, then helped you off the counter and fixed your hair with such care. His hands cradled your face, thumbs brushing your flushed cheeks.

“You alright, lovie?” he whispered. “Was I too rough?”

You shook your head with a dazed smile, wrapping your arms around his waist. “I’m okay.”

He kissed your forehead and handed you a glass of water from the little sink. “Good girl. You were so quiet for me.”

When you walked back into the dining room together, one of his friends raised an eyebrow.

Harry smirked, arm wrapping snug around your waist as he helped you into your seat.

“She’s feeling better,” he said smoothly, reaching for his drink like nothing had happened.

Your cheeks burned. You kept your head down, smiling into your lap.

Harry leaned over and kissed the top of your head again, hand resting on your thigh.

You squeezed his hand under the table. And yeah… you were feeling better.

[sevsevteen]

hii if requests are open (and you’re comfortable with it ofc) cab i pretty pls request an angsty fic about maybe a sasaeng breaking into readers house/hotel room and idk just the members beung protective haha

i love your work 🫶🫶

hello!! thank you for your compliment hehe 🫶 much love~

[DISCLAIMER: i've read a prompt like this a while back, however i forgot the exact details and user of the original writer who wrote about it. if any of you remember please let me know i'll be sure to tag the original ><

edit: a kind reader helped me find it! the original is 'Intruder in the dark' by @scoupsakakitty. click this for their original fic, please check it out as well~]

this scene is written entirely by me (with inspiration by the orig. creator) thank youu—

Warnings: s*saeng (booo tomatox3), breaking and entering, small injury, read with caution!

-- જ⁀➴°⋆

The hallway was quiet when everyone stepped out of the elevator. A small wave and mutters of goodbyes echoed as the members left for their own rooms.

Your hoodie was still damp at the collar from post-concert sweat, and your legs ached after hours of dancing. Tugging your keycard out the lanyard, you rubbed at your tired eyes as you reached the door.

Room 1714.

The familiar green beep clicked, and you pushed the door open.

The room was dark, only the faint amber glow of the city lights filtering through the sheer curtains. You didn’t bother turning on the lights - it seemed too tiring. But when you took the first step in, the back of your neck prickled.

Something was wrong.

The room looked, at first glance, exactly as you'd left it that morning. The bed was neatly made, the curtains drawn, the complimentary water bottles untouched on the bedside table. It wasn't just the air conditioning; it was a deeper, unsettling sensation. The kind that made a chill sneak its way up your spine.

You walked toward the bed, senses on high alert. The duvet was perfectly smooth, but was the pillow fluffed just a little too much? You remembered leaving it slightly dented while getting up from your morning stretch.

Your purse - left hanging on the armchair when you left this morning - was now on the floor, contents half-spilled out. Did you knock it over when you rushed out?

A sweater, once folded on the bed, was crumpled in the corner of the room floor.

It was such a minor detail, easily dismissed as your own forgetfulness, but the unease persisted. There was a feeling. Like the air had been disturbed, the molecules rearranged by an unwelcome presence.

Your forced yourself to swallow whatever doubts you had as your hand hovered near the switch, finally flicking on the lights.

Ruffled pillow. Spilled purse. Phone charger unplugged. The mirror slightly tilted. Everything slightly…wrong.

It was tiny. Insignificant. But combined with the other small changes, it formed a terrifying mosaic in your mind.

Someone had been in the room.

Someone who definitely shouldn't have been.

And they had tried to make it look like they hadn't.

The realization hit you with the force of a physical blow. Your breath caught in your throat, blood running cold. You hadn't been alone.

Or rather, you were not alone.

You took a shaky step backwards, toward the door.

That was, when a hand wrapped around your wrist - all your senses jumping to life.

Appearing from a blindspot behind the wall of the bathroom, a man's force yanked your arm back, hard. You tumbled to the floor with a loud thud, head spinning as you landed on your back. A scream tore through your throat - only to be quickly smothered by a gloved hand pressing against your mouth, rough and smelling faintly of disinfectant, muffling any sound.

Before you could react, he was climbing over your torso, his weight pressing you down, stealing whatever breath you had left. Your wrists were seized in an iron grip, pinned above your head, held so tightly you could already feel the angry beginnings of bruises forming.

His eyes were scary - sinister. Hiding just enough for your body to start shaking uncontrollably. Your eyes closed on instinct when he leaned down, his face a dark, indistinct blur above you, breath warm and tickling your ear.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he whispered against your ear, the wind tickling your skin. “You have no idea how long.”

You shook your head, eyes darting around frantically for an escape as tears welled up, fear surging like fire through your veins. But there was only the oppressive weight of his body and the terrifying, terrifying, intimacy of his voice.

“Don't be so cold. I know you get off work at this time every day. I've been following you for a few days now.” His voice suddenly lowered, “You looked so good in your blue sweater yesterday.”

You writhed, thrashing beneath him, screams muffled as your heart beat so violently you could hear it in your ears.

“We're a match made in heaven. Don’t you know that?”

Move. Move. Think.

A flicker of raw, desperate anger ignited within you. You weren't going to let this be your end. Not here. Not like this. The adrenaline surged, sharp and hot.

With a sudden, violent twist, you yanked one wrist free from his loosening grasp, the bruising pain a dull ache against the urgency to survive.

You fumbled the floor around you, feeling the rough carpet that scratched your skin, blindly searching – reaching out, your fingers wrapped around the cool, smooth shape of a glass cup, one that must've rolled off when you crashed against the table before.

Without thinking, you swung.

The smash echoed as the cup shattered against his temple, shards cutting skin. The grip on your wrist finally gave way as he recoiled, clutching his head, a dark stain rapidly spreading on his gloves.

Your hands weren't spared either – drops of blood rolling to your elbow while pain seared your fingertips. But you couldn't feel any of it, not right now.

You kicked hard, enough for him to roll off with a yelp.

Scrambling out from under him, you crawled toward the door with your palms scraped and bleeding. You didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

You yanked the door open with trembling hands - and ran like never before.

.

The crash had startled most of the floor. Staff were poking their heads out, some murmuring about the noise, but some retreated quickly, not wanting to intrude.

A few doors down, the members had already stirred, stepping out their own rooms.

“Did something fall?” Jun muttered, wandering out in a white tee and sweats.

“I heard glass,” Seungcheol said, appearing from the room beside him. “Wait–”

That’s when they saw you.

Barreling down the hallway barefoot, eyes wide, hair a mess, breath ragged as if you couldn’t get air into your lungs.

You turned back occasionally, a quick, fearful glance over the shoulder, convinced the man was right behind you, his chilling whispers still echoing in your ears.

Your legs only stopped moving when you slammed into someone - arms, chest - someone solid. The impact knocked the wind out of you.

“What's going–” It was Wonwoo.

He was cut off by your scream as you pushed away. "Get away from me!" Your voice was raw and hoarse, instinctively pushing and flailing, your hands coming up in a desperate attempt to fend off whoever had stood in your way.

Wonwoo fought your fists, grabbing your arms as his own ones caged you in, forcing your thrashing to come to a halt.

“It’s me, Wonwoo. It’s just me.”

A voice, familiar and deep, began to murmur, slowly, gently, cutting through the fog of panic.

“Can you look at me?”

You paused as your vision cleared, his familiar face grounding your sanity. You collapsed into him immediately, sobbing, clutching his shirt with trembling fingers. You cried into his shoulder, pointing a trembling hand back down the hallway toward your room, stuttering out broken words between gasps.

“He– he was in– he grabbed– he was in my room-”

Wonwoo caught you again, wrapping both arms around you protectively as your knees gave out. “What? Who?!”

The words sent a shockwave through the group for a second – but the members moved instantly.

“Get a blanket. Someone call security- NOW!” Seungcheol barked, eyes wide.

Jun knelt beside you, holding your uninjured hand as he gently stroked your back, whispering: “You’re okay now. We’ve got you. Whoever it is, he’s not getting near you again.”

Mingyu and Dokyeom quickly formed a physical barrier around you and Wonwoo, their large frames blocking any view down the hallway towards your room.

“Minghao and Seokmin went down to the lobby!” Chan called from the elevator lobby, rushing back after hearing the panic.

Joshua was already on the hotel phone, voice urgent but eerily calm. “Yes, a break-in. She’s hurt. We need security and the police.”

The hallway was chaos, but around you, it was shielded - every member blocking the world from getting any closer to you.

And just minutes later, hotel security arrived, followed closely by staff and local authorities. The masked man was found still inside your room, disoriented and bleeding from his temple.

Still, your head rang when his voice boomed throughout the floor. “We belong together! Wait for me my love!”

.

You sat on Seungcheol's bed, now changed into a clean sweatshirt that belonged to Joshua, wrapped in a blanket and cradling a heat pack in your lap.

Your hands still trembled.

But you weren’t alone.

Wonwoo hadn’t left your side once. Hoshi sat on the floor by your feet, rubbing slow circles into your ankle. Mingyu had your hand in his, carefully cleaning the small cuts and scrapes on your hands – the remnants of your desperate struggle. His touch was gentle as he dabbed away the last traces of blood and shards that had embedded themselves. It hurt, of course, but exhaustion overtook every bone in your body.

Across the room, Seungcheol and Jihoon were already deep in hushed conversation, strategizing. They were setting up surveillance shifts, ensuring someone would be by your side through the night. No one had to say it aloud; the unspoken fear of the stalker's words still hung heavy.

They didn’t say much after.

None of them needed to.

Because every quiet glance, every hand on your shoulder, every member sitting in the room long after midnight without saying a word - it all said the same thing:

You were safe, and no one will ever lay a hand on you again.

--

every situation has its repercussions