#was because i was unsure if i could write it in a way where they got together and the rebellion still happened

[d-z20]

The Familiar's Return (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: After a quiet night takes an unexpected turn, you find yourself drawn back into the orbit of two witches who once owned your soul. Your bond as their Familiar begins to pull tighter, reigniting flames you’d long buried. In the shadows of magic and desire, you must navigate old connections, simmering tension, and a power that refuses to let you go.

- OR -

You flirt with Alice to make Agatha and Rio jealous so they fuck you to put you back in your place

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, bratty reader, top agathario, magical restraints, smidge of begging, mention of orgasm denial, fingering (Reader recv)

Words: 3.7k

A/N: totally didn’t write reader flirting with Alice because I want to flirt with her. This was written for this request that's been sat in my inbox for a while oops

AO3 | Masterlist

You’re lying on your bed, unwinding after a long, mundane day. A book in your hands, a mug of tea on the bedside table—just another ordinary evening. But then your eyelids grow heavy, and the pull of sleep becomes too much. You set the book down, curling into the warmth of your bed and closing your eyes for a moment...

The next thing you know, you’re waking up with a groan. You blink a few times, confusion clouding your mind. It’s dark, but the air feels different—charged somehow. You stretch and sit up, a little too quickly. That’s when you hear a voice above you.

"Uhhhh, guys, does the road usually have people just lying around sleeping?"

You blink again. The road? You glance around, confusion rising. This isn’t your room. You’re not even in your house. Instead, you’re on a strange dirt path, surrounded by towering trees that stretch endlessly in every direction, bathed in an eerie, otherworldly light.

You rub your eyes. That’s when you see her: Rio Vidal, one of your old owners.

She grins, flashing a wild, flirtatious smile. She’s clearly surprised, but there’s no hiding her amusement at seeing you again. “Well, well, look who decided to show up.”

The familiar tug at your soul confirms it: Agatha is here too. You don’t even need to see her to feel the connection. That bond... it’s been so long. You’d almost forgotten how strong it could be.

That must be how you ended up here. Their reunion summoning you to their side. Just when you thought you were free of their messes. Fucking brilliant.

Before you can finish that thought, a witch with red streaks in her hair walks over, frowning down at you.

“Who the hell are you, and what are you doing on the Witches’ Road?”

You freeze. The Witches’ Road? You knew it to be a con—something Agatha had fabricated to further her own power. But this place? It looks real. Too real. So what the hell are they doing here? And where exactly is here?

"Hey, answer the question!" The witch snaps, her tone sharper this time. "Who are you, and what are you doing here?"

You smirk up at her, unbothered. “Oh, just your average wanderer, looking for a bit of fun.” You stand up, brushing yourself off and raising an eyebrow at the confused faces around you. “I’m Y/N, by the way. Familiar extraordinaire, at your service.” You bow, bringing her hand to your lips for a playful kiss. “I was Agatha’s and Rio’s little pet back in the day.”

The witch blushes at your gesture, and the rest of the coven stares at you, unsure how to respond. But before anyone can say anything, Agatha’s voice cuts through the awkward silence.

“Alice, sit back down,” she orders, before her attention shifts to you. “What are you doing here, Y/N?”

You meet her gaze, a cocky grin spreading across your face. “Guess I got summoned by your delightful company,” you say, glancing at Rio. “Seems like the connection still works, even after all this time.”

You cock your head to the side, glancing around at the others. "Well, this is... interesting. Always thought the Witches’ Road was a little too good to be real, right, Agatha?" You wink at her, and Rio laughs from beside Agatha, clearly entertained by your antics.

"Oh, this is definitely real," Rio says with a smirk. "Good to see you haven’t changed."

You flash a wicked grin. "Oh, you have no idea just how much I’ve changed, darling." The words hang heavy with implication. Before, you’d followed them around like a loyal, obedient plaything. Not anymore. Tonight, you were going to have some fun with them.

As the others chat, you notice Alice still watching you. Her gaze is intense; curiosity piqued.

You sit next to her, leaning back and crossing your arms to flex your muscles. “I have to admit, I’m intrigued by you, Alice. What's your story? I’ve always had a soft spot for women with a bit of edge.”

Alice blushes again, trying to maintain composure.

Rio laughs, clearly enjoying the way you’re provoking Agatha. She plays along, her voice laced with amusement. “You are exactly their type, Alice,” she says with a wink.

Agatha glares at you from across the fire, but there’s something more in her eyes—a flicker of jealousy she can’t hide. It’s that same old dance, and you’ve missed it. You love pushing her buttons, even when she tries to act indifferent.

Alice clears her throat, breaking the tension. She eyes the symbol on your arm, her voice dipping into something more serious. “That mark... what is it? Some sort of spell?” She lifts her sleeve to reveal a small tattoo. “My mother made me get this. Protection, she said.”

You glance at her arm, then back to her face, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Protection, huh? That’s cute.”

You lean in just a little, your fingers tracing lightly over her tattoo. “But no, my mark isn’t a spell. It’s the sign of a familiar. A scar that binds your soul to another.”

You let the words sink in, your fingers lingering a moment too long on her skin. Alice shivers slightly, caught off guard by your touch, her breath hitching. You enjoy the effect you’re having on her, the flush on her face making it all the more satisfying.

“So,” you ask teasingly, “do all you witches have a little family tradition of getting tattoos, or is that just an Alice thing?”

Alice laughs nervously, trying to hide her growing discomfort, but you can see the tension building. She’s trying so hard to stay in control, but you’re making it harder and harder to resist.

The rest of the coven continues chatting, but you remain focused on Alice, your body language making your intentions clear. You lean in closer, your touch deliberate, your words sweet but laced with something far less innocent.

You glance over at Agatha and Rio, seeing jealousy on both of their faces now. You knew flirting with someone else would get a rise out of them. Agatha’s eyes narrow, while Rio hides her irritation behind a smirk.

But Agatha’s had enough. She stands abruptly, her voice laced with fury. “Alright, pet,” she says, her tone unmistakably warning. “We need to have a word.”

You stand, cocking an eyebrow at her. “Oh, do we now? I’m not sure I’m in the mood for a ‘word.’”

Before you can protest further, Rio grabs your arm, pulling you away from the fire and into the shadows, out of the coven’s sight.

“I guess duty calls,” you tease, glancing back at the others as Rio pulls you further into the dark.

Once you’re out of sight, Agatha steps forward, her eyes smouldering with frustration. “You’ve been all over her since you got here,” she growls, her voice thick with something possessive. “Have you forgotten you belong to us?”

You pull back, laughing lightly. “Oh, really? You think I’m just going to roll over and—”

Before you can finish, Rio’s lips crash against yours—hard and demanding. Agatha follows suit, her kiss searing as she pulls you between them. The bond crackles to life around you, familiar and undeniable. Oh, how you’ve missed this.

You give in for a moment, allowing yourself to be swept up in the intensity. But then, with a mischievous smirk, you pull away. “As much as I’m enjoying this,” you say, breathless, “I’d rather be doing it with Alice.” You turn on your heel, leaving them standing in stunned silence. It was a lie, of course. Another taunt to see how far you can push them before they make you submit.

Agatha calls after you, fury and desire mixing in her voice. “You can’t just walk away from us.”

You roll your eyes, halting mid-step and turning to face them. “Oh, am I supposed to beg for your attention, Agatha? Like the good old days?”

Rio steps in, her playful side still evident as she pulls you closer. “We’re giving you the option to do it willing; we could just make you. You’re still our familiar, after all.”

pleasemakemepleasemakemepleasemakemepleasemakemepleasemakeme

You lean back, eyes glittering with defiance. "I’m not begging for anything from either of you." At least not yet. You turn and walk back to the fire.

As you sit, you flick your wrist, conjuring up a spread of food and drink. The coven watches in awe, unsure how to process your sudden display of magic.

You smirk, explaining with a sly grin, “Being a familiar means I can do things other witches can’t. Just a perk of the job.”

The coven, unsure whether to be impressed or confused, starts reaching for drinks and food, the alcohol loosening them up. Soon, laughter fills the air, and their earlier wariness is forgotten.

You continue to flirt with Alice, enjoying every blush you pull from her, knowing you’ll face the consequences later.

—

By the time the fire burns low and the coven is scattered around in various states of drunken stupor, you’re left with Agatha and Rio—both simmering with desire, their eyes locked on you.

"Okay, you’ve had your fun," Rio murmurs, voice thick with something darker. "But now, it’s our turn."

Agatha steps closer, her lips curling into a sly smirk as she tilts her head, eyes dark with challenge. "Still think you’re in control, pet?" she purrs, her voice low and full of authority. 

Before you can retort, Rio sidesteps you, her presence a heat against your back. Her fingers trail along your shoulders, her touch feather-light, but there’s no mistaking the strength behind it. Her voice, husky and teasing, whispers close to your ear. "Oh, love, you don’t seem to understand. This is our game, and you don’t get to change the rules."

You scoff, trying to summon some of that bravado from earlier.

But before you can say anything, Rio’s magic snaps into place. Vines, glowing faintly with her energy, erupt from the earth, curling around your ankles and locking you in place. You glance down, startled, but the roots are unyielding, pulsing with her power. You tug once, then twice, and realise you’re trapped.

Agatha moves to stand in front of you, her piercing gaze meeting yours. She doesn’t touch you, but the weight of her presence alone has your pulse quickening. "Not so bold now, are we?" she says, her tone mocking, but there’s an undeniable heat behind her words.

Rio leans against you from behind, her lips brushing the shell of your ear as her hands rest on your hips, holding you firmly. "Don’t worry," she murmurs, her voice almost soothing if not for the edge of danger. "We’ll remind you where you belong."

To your shock, they don’t focus on you. Instead, Agatha steps into Rio’s space, their lips meeting in a slow, deliberate kiss, filled with hunger and command. It’s magnetic, their power crackling in the air, and you feel your body react against your will, heat flooding to your core, and you squeeze your legs together.

"Enjoying the view?" Agatha asks, her voice dripping with amusement as she pulls back just enough to smirk at you.

While your time apart means they’ve lost the ability to peer into your mind, they can still pick up on your feelings, especially when they’re this strong.

You glare, trying to fight the growing heat pooling in your core, but your voice betrays you. "Is that all you’ve got?" you challenge, though your voice wavers slightly.

Rio chuckles, a rich, sultry sound that sends a shiver down your spine. "Still so defiant. Let’s see how long that lasts." With a small twitch of her finger, the vines force your legs apart, removing what little relief you had given yourself.

Agatha leans in again, her kiss with Rio deepening, more passionate now, as if daring you to watch, to feel your own irrelevance in the moment. You bite your lip, fighting the whimper, threatening to escape as you struggle against the vines keeping you rooted.

And then, Rio’s magic flares again. The roots tighten, pulling you slightly forward, locking you in place with perfect precision to watch them. Your arms tingle with the same sensation, her magic wrapping around your wrists as if sensing you might lash out.

Agatha glances back at you, her eyes alight with mischief. "What’s the matter, love? Jealous?" She tilts her head mockingly. "You didn’t seem to want our attention before, did you? Now you’re going to beg for it."

You feel a flush of frustration mixed with undeniable arousal. "I don’t beg," you snap, though the words lack conviction.

Rio arches an eyebrow, turning just enough to glance at you. "Oh, you will." Her voice is a promise, smooth and unrelenting. She leans back into Agatha, her hands trailing along the other witch’s waist, pulling her closer. Suddenly your legs feel cold and you look down to see your pants have vanished. There’s a vine snaking its way up your leg and between your thighs. It starts to stroke up and down your crotch, and you buck your hips trying to get more pressure. You thought you’d gained at least a scrap of dignity after all those years apart, yet here you are grinding down on a fucking plant, making it impossibly wet from your arousal, just because they’re making out in front of you.

Their kisses grow hungrier, more deliberate, and every movement feels calculated to remind you of your place. The tension in the air is suffocating, their bond radiating power and control. You watch as Agatha’s nails rake lightly down Rio’s back, eliciting a small gasp from the witch.

You tug harder at the magical restraints, a desperate sound bubbling in your throat despite your pride. Your body betrays you, heat pooling in every nerve as the intensity of their connection pulls at something deep within you.

Agatha turns to you again, her lips swollen from Rio’s kisses, her smirk sharper than ever. "Say it," she commands simply, her voice firm but not unkind.

You shake your head stubbornly, your pride warring with the growing need inside you. "Not a chance," you manage, though your voice is barely a whisper.

Rio chuckles again, her magic tightening the restraints around you just enough to keep you aware of how completely at their mercy you are. She presses a kiss to Agatha’s neck, murmuring something you can’t quite hear but feel in the air—a promise, a plan.

They turn to you together now, their combined presence overwhelming. Agatha steps closer, her hand reaching out to cup your chin, forcing you to meet her eyes. "You’re trembling," she observes, her tone teasing. Her fingers trail down your jaw, leaving a tingling heat in their wake. "You can end this, you know. All you have to do is beg."

You bite your lip, your pride a fragile shield against their dominance. "I don’t—"

Rio cuts you off, her magic surging, pulling you taut against the vines. "Try again," she says softly, but the threat in her tone is clear.

Agatha’s lips brush against your ear, her breath warm and sending shivers down your spine. "Say it, pet. Or maybe we’ll just leave you here to simmer while we enjoy each other properly."

The thought sends a sharp pang through you; the idea of being left out, of missing their touch, their power, their presence, is more unbearable than you want to admit. Your resolve crumbles just slightly, enough for your voice to tremble as you whisper, "Please..."

Agatha’s eyes light up, her smirk widening as she leans back to survey you. "Not good enough," she chides.

Rio steps in, her hands on your shoulders now, grounding you. "Louder, love," she purrs. "We want to hear it."

Your pride shatters under their combined weight, and you finally let the words tumble from your lips. "Please, Agatha... Rio... I—" You swallow hard, your voice cracking with a mixture of need and surrender. "I need you. Please."

Rio lets the magical restraints fall away, disappearing into the ground, and Agatha’s lips come crashing down on yours. The kiss is fierce, hungry—more than just a reclaiming, it's a possession. You feel your mark burn with desire, the familiar sting that always came with them, only this time it’s more intense, more urgent. They embrace you fully now, and you melt into the sensation, every inch of you on fire, every breath shared between the three of you.

Rio’s hands are everywhere, teasing, possessive, pulling you tighter against her. She presses you into Agatha’s chest, feeling the magic thrumming in your veins, making every part of you ache for more. Agatha’s fingers tangle in your hair, tilting your head back, allowing Rio to trail kisses down your throat, her teeth grazing your skin, setting your nerves ablaze. It’s overwhelming, all-consuming—your resistance dissolving entirely under their combined touch.

The moment Rio pushes a finger inside you, you feel your walls tighten immediately. A benefit of being their familiar was how easily they could make you cum; the downside was it also meant they were the only people who could make you cum, so in all your decades apart, you haven’t been able to climax even once. Talk about orgasm denial.

They can feel your desire, the way your body trembles in anticipation, and they’re more than happy to give you exactly what you need. Rio, her eyes burning with possessive hunger, inserts another finger, pressing her palm firmly against your clit. Her fingers flex, teasing, sending waves of heat through you as they start to move, driving you crazy with the slow, deliberate pressure. Every touch from her feels like an electrifying promise, like the world is collapsing into the space between you. You can barely focus, drowning in the sensation as she doesn’t stop, guiding you into a rhythm that has you gasping for more.

Meanwhile, Agatha is relentless. Her lips find yours again, but this time it’s different—her kiss is sharper, more urgent. She bites down on your bottom lip, hard enough to sting, but it’s the kind of pain you crave, the kind of roughness that always ignites something dark and hungry within you. You gasp, the sensation intensifying as she takes advantage of your breathless moment. Her teeth graze your lip one more time, a reminder that she holds the power in this dance.

Before you can process, she pushes her tongue into your mouth, deep and possessive. The kiss becomes an exploration, a claim, as Agatha takes what she wants, making sure you feel every movement, every shift of her body against yours. You kiss her back hungrily, matching her intensity, responding to the pull of her control. It’s familiar—this frantic need to give in, to let go, to surrender. And yet, it feels different this time—there’s no escape, no hesitation, only the heat of their presence enveloping you, pulling you further under their spell.

Your breath hitches as Rio shifts her focus, pressing harder into you, moving with purpose, her touch as commanding as Agatha’s kiss. It’s a beautiful chaos—the push and pull of their desire, the control they hold over you. You can’t tell where one touch ends and the other begins, everything blending together into one overwhelming sensation that leaves you gasping for air, for more.

"That's it," Agatha murmurs against your lips, her voice low and throaty. "You’ll always be ours, and ours alone."

The words sink deep, pushing you past the breaking point. You finally let go completely, surrendering to the tidal wave of sensation. Your entire body tenses, every nerve lit up with a white-hot intensity as you reach your peak. It’s as if time itself halts in reverence of the moment, and all you can feel is them—their hands, their lips, their presence anchoring you even as they unravel you. It’s overwhelming, raw, and impossible to contain. Your breath catches, breaking into a shuddering gasp as your orgasm consumes you, leaving you trembling in their hold.

The aftermath is a blur of warmth and relief, your body melting against theirs as the world slowly rights itself. Still high on the ecstasy of your climax, clarity seeps in through the haze. For the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself think about how much you’ve missed them—not just their touch, but them, the soul-deep connection that once defined your bond. The longing you’d buried, the emptiness you’d ignored, rushes to the surface, overwhelming in its magnitude.

Agatha’s voice cuts through the quiet, low and familiar, sending shivers down your spine. “We’ve missed you too.”

You blink, startled, because her lips haven’t moved. The realisation strikes you like a spark catching flame—they’re in your mind again. The bond has fully reignited, glowing brighter than ever, their thoughts brushing against yours like the softest caress.

A grin tugs at your lips, even as a lump forms in your throat. For so long, you’ve felt stretched too thin, as though your soul had grown just a little too large, leaving a space that nothing else could fill. You hadn’t realised just how incomplete you’d been until now, until this. With them.

For the first time in what feels like forever, the missing pieces are back in place. The weight of their presence settles over you, grounding and comforting, like the steady pulse of a heartbeat you’d forgotten you needed. You close your eyes and lean into them, basking in the completeness of it, a smile playing at your lips as the warmth of their bond wraps around you.

Rio chuckles softly, her fingers brushing through your hair. “You feel it too, don’t you?”

You nod, not trusting your voice. There’s no need to say anything. They already know, as deeply and completely as you do. Whatever comes next, you’re no longer alone—and that, more than anything, is what you’ve missed the most.

-----

I know you didn't ask for the soft finish but I'm an absolute sucker for a happy ending

[n0vazsq]

Winner | Lamine Yamal x Reader

pairing . . . lamine yamal x gf!reader

summary . . . After watching your boyfriend play a match, he invites you over to the field so he can teach you how to play

request . . . yes!! based on this request!

word count . . . 1.5k+

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . idk why it took me sm time to write this like it could've legit taken me like 40 mins but idk </3 I HOPE YOU LIKE ITTTT! i forgot i was writing a fic halfway through the football tutorial so lets ignore that <3 I YAPPED MY ASS OFF IN THIS LIKE OMG

taglist . . . @barcapix (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

. . . The football field was still buzzing with energy as the match wrapped up. The sound of boots pounding against the turf, the cheers from the crowd, and the sharp whistle from the referee all began to fade as players gathered around, stretching and cooling off.

You had been watching from the sidelines, eyes glued to Lamine as he darted around the field with the kind of ease that made his talent look effortless.

The excitement from the game was still fresh, but your mind wandered back to the way he had been glancing your way every time he had a chance. You’d been there to support him, of course, but you couldn’t help the little excitement that ran through you each time your eyes met his.

As the final whistle blew and players started to make their way to the sidelines, Lamine broke away from the group, his expression lighting up when he spotted you. A quick wave, a playful grin, and then he jogged over to where you were standing.

"You're watching or you're playing?" Lamine asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.

"Watching," you replied, offering a smile. "You guys were amazing out there."

"Not as amazing as you," he replied with a wink, brushing his sweaty hair out of his face. His gaze softened as he looked at you, his hands resting gently on your waist.

You smiled, your heart swelling at the sincerity in his voice. "You’re my favorite player, Lamine. Always." you said, your fingers lightly tracing his jawline.

The air between you two shifted, the teasing and laughter fading into something more affectionate. Without thinking, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his, the kiss slow and easy, like you both had all the time in the world.

He responded instantly, his hands moving to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. The kiss deepened, and for a brief moment, everything else disappeared, just the two of you, the feel of his lips against yours, and the quiet hum of the evening.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads rested against each other, and you stayed like that for a while, just enjoying the quiet closeness. "I love you," Lamine whispered, his voice low, sincere.

"I love you, too," you replied, your voice soft. You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, his heartbeat steady and reassuring, and in that moment, everything felt right.

"You know," he said with a mischievous smile, "you should try it yourself."

You raised an eyebrow, unsure whether he was serious or joking. "Try what?"

"Football," he said, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. "I’ll teach you. We can make it a proper football weekend."

A laugh rose up from your chest. "I’ve never played before, Lamine. I’d probably mess it up."

He leaned in, the grin on his face widening. "You won’t mess it up. I’ll teach you. You’re smart, you’ll catch on quickly. Plus, it's just for fun."

You hesitated, but the enthusiasm in his eyes was impossible to resist. "Alright, fine. But only because you asked nicely."

Lamine led you to a quieter part of the field, away from the hustle and chaos of the game’s aftermath. The soft sound of the ball bouncing on the grass as the remaining players finished packing up and heading off was the only noise. It felt peaceful, almost surreal, like this was a private moment between the two of you.

"So, first things first," Lamine began, positioning the ball on the ground in front of him. "The basics. You kick the ball, try to keep it under control, and-"

You interrupted with a mock roll of your eyes. "I know how to kick a ball, Lamine."

He laughed and nudged you lightly, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. "Just making sure. But do you know how to pass, control it, and dribble without tripping over your own feet?"

"Fair point," you said, stepping up to the ball and kicking it lightly, feeling it roll a few feet ahead. "Like this?"

"Not bad," he said, his tone approving. He came closer, showing you how to position your foot, his own demonstrating the proper technique as the ball gently tapped the grass and spun away. "Like this. You want to keep the ball close to you, not too far ahead. And don't worry about looking perfect, it’s just practice."

You tried again, this time focusing on keeping the ball close to your foot as you tapped it forward. Lamine stood close by, offering tips and making sure you didn’t get discouraged when you missed or sent the ball off in the wrong direction.

"See? You’re getting it," he said after your fifth attempt. "You just need a little more practice."

"Easy for you to say," you muttered, smiling despite yourself. "You’ve been playing for years."

"Doesn’t mean you can’t learn," he said confidently. "Everyone starts somewhere. And you’re a quick learner. I’m impressed."

You couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride at his words, even if they were just about kicking a football around. It was nice to be noticed, especially by him. You had always admired his dedication and skill on the field, but seeing him take the time to teach you felt… different. It made your heart flutter in a way you didn’t quite understand.

"Okay, now for the dribbling," Lamine said, stepping back to give you more room. "It’s all about control, and… well, not letting the ball get too far away from you."

You focused hard as he demonstrated, showing you how to move the ball with precision. After a few tries, you started to get the hang of it. You felt more confident, and that confidence seemed to spark something in Lamine.

"Hey, not bad at all," he said, grinning. "You're a natural."

"Maybe I’m just good at listening," you teased, wiping the sweat from your brow.

He laughed, stepping a little closer to you. "You’re good at more than listening."

You tried to ignore the warmth that spread through you at his words. Lamine had always had this effortless way of making you feel special without even trying.

"Alright," he said, pushing the ball toward you with his foot. "Let's see if you can get it past me."

You gave him a skeptical look. "What, now we’re playing against each other?"

"Why not?" He shrugged, clearly enjoying the playful challenge. "Don’t worry. I’ll go easy on you."

"Well, aren’t you confident?" you said, laughing as you readied yourself to try and dribble past him. The challenge had you on edge in the best way, and you focused on the ball, taking a deep breath as you tried to maneuver it around him.

The two of you danced around the field, him weaving around effortlessly, showing off his moves while you stumbled after him, trying to keep up. But each time you managed to get close, he'd use his quick footwork to steal the ball away with a teasing laugh.

"You’re getting better!" he said, as you finally managed to get a little too close for comfort, kicking the ball out of his reach.

"Don’t get cocky now," you shot back, smiling.

He walked over, clapping you on the back lightly. "You’ve definitely got potential. Who knows? Maybe we’ll make a footballer out of you yet."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. You weren’t sure if he was joking or not, but the idea of spending more time like this with him, laughing and learning together, felt… nice. More than nice.

"Thanks, Lamine. For everything," you said, glancing up at him.

He flashed a grin, his usual cockiness replaced by something softer. "Anytime."

"Hey, get the ball, it's rolling away." you laughed, pointing behind him.

Running to get the ball, Lamine walked back to you, a troublesome grin playing on his lips. "Well," he said, pulling you into a side hug, "I think it’s time for my reward for teaching you football."

You raised an eyebrow, playing along. "And what would that reward be?"

"Well, first," he said, his voice dropping lower as he gently kissed your temple, "I get to kiss you again."

You laughed softly, your fingers tracing small patterns on his chest as you looked up at him. "Seems like a pretty good reward to me."

His grin widened, and without warning, he cupped your face, gently guiding you in for another kiss. This one was more urgent than before, his hands finding your waist like usual. You melted into him, your hands slipping around his neck as you deepened the kiss, savoring the taste of him.

When you finally pulled back, your heart was racing, and a playful sparkle flickered in your eyes. "Is that all I get for my efforts?"

Lamine laughed, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "For now," he teased. "But I think I’ll find more ways to show you just how much I appreciate you later."

You smiled up at him, holding his hand in yours. "I look forward to it," you said, leaning into him again, content in the warmth of his embrace.

Lamine might've won the football match, and maybe your heart too. But until now, you've won in life.

And maybe won his heart too.

[sorchasolas]

A friend has convinced me to actually go and do something with Rebellion In White so expect maybe more chapters of that,,

[inkskinned]

somewhere out there someone has probably used AI to write their wedding vows. someone out there is probably loading their hinge profile with AI quippy responses. when i close my eyes i picture a man hunting through chatGPT prompts, trying to get someone else to love him. maybe she sends him back chatGPT too, and two robots fall in love.

is this our new lives, then? is love scripted? i have a dandelion heart and some part of me wants to believe that AI will not obtain self-reliance by evil but instead by discovering the single perfect shape of love - the one thing humanity (in all our time and force) could never quite nail down. maybe it will be a string of numbers. the imprint of static, the universe's thumbprint. maybe it will just be a single long mirror, and jam dripping down your hands.

i know there are "good" reasons. i was nervous! or i was unsure how to say it! but - i want your nervous words. i want your unsure words. i want you to strike entire pages of work for me. i want you to gesture vaguely, to ransack your mind for ways to instead-of-saying just show me. i want to find where your words fail you and where the summer of your longing blazes out of you, infinite, resisting the capture of definition.

and i want to do the same for you. isn't any love worth a little bit of struggle? i want to shiver with the movie-ripe sense my friends are lovely and i am so tender towards them - i want to never quite be able to explain what it means to spend my life with them. i want to draw shapes on your skin that exit the geometric and fade into the same, wordless pattern. it is still love if silent. you know - i rarely, if ever, actually tell my siblings i love them? i just show up often, and hope the action does the talking.

i know AI is "easier". of course. buttoned up and seamlessly corporate. but i do not want to love you through a film. i do not want to love you with your edges sanded down. i cannot recognize myself in you if you are unmarred and glistening. something about how, with the crystal-clear mp3 files of the present, we ache for the scratch of vinyl. the flaws are what make love worth it. i want the raw and the windbeaten and the unkempt.

something tender, then. i love you because you're real, which means that you cannot be perfect.

[brunchable]

How To Impress a 21st Century Girl.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Themes: Rom-Com, Fluff, Mutual Pining(Heavy?), First Date, Flirtation and Playfulness.

Summary: Sam had forced Bucky to use Tinder to solve his abysmal love life. Bucky tells himself that if third time isn't a charm, he will officially give up trying to find a partner.

A/N: I'm a sucker for rom-coms, I hope you guys enjoyed this because I enjoyed writing it.

tags: @hzdhrtss @winterslove1917

It had all been Sam’s idea. "Come on, man. You need to get back out there!" Sam had said, way too enthusiastically, while setting up a Tinder profile for him without even asking. Bucky had resisted at first, arguing that dating apps probably weren't his thing. But Sam was persistent, reminding him that it was 2024, not 1944, and that "no one meets in grocery stores anymore."

Reluctantly, Bucky had gone along with it, figuring it couldn’t hurt to try. What was the worst that could happen?

Well, now he knew.

Bucky was starting to think Tinder was out to get him. His first two dates had been disasters—and not just normal awkwardness, but spectacularly bad. The first girl, Jenny, had brought her ex-boyfriend to the date. Apparently, he was her ride, and they were still "good friends." Bucky had spent two hours third-wheeling a reunion he hadn’t signed up for. The second girl, Alicia, had a collection of ceramic frogs. And when Bucky said “collection,” he meant obsession. The girl spent an entire dinner showing him photos of different frog figurines. It was ribbiting. Literally. One of them even made croaking sounds.

So, now here he was, on date number three, standing outside some trendy café, wondering what fresh nightmare awaited him. This time, though, he’d let you plan the date. Maybe handing over control would be better than having to smile through another amphibian-themed dinner.

You showed up right on time, and Bucky was genuinely relieved to see no ex-boyfriend hovering in the background. You were wearing a paneled knit dress with spaghetti straps that hugged you just right, and your short hair was perfectly tousled. You smiled at him, but the look on your face told him you were just as unsure as he was.

“Hi,” you greeted, and Bucky instantly forgot every single normal response. Holy shit he is TALL.

“Hey, I’m Bucky.” he mumbled back. He was really nailing this whole dating thing.

You walked inside, and the café had that minimalist vibe. A lot of plants. A lot of exposed brick. The kind of place where you’re not sure if you’re supposed to sit or admire the interior design.

As you both sat down, Bucky tried to channel his inner suave. He could do this. He had faced way worse than an awkward date. Like alien invasions. Like that one time he lost his arm again. This was nothing.

Except... why was talking to an attractive woman harder than fighting off super soldiers?

“I, uh, like your dress,” Bucky said, already feeling the heat creep up his neck. Nice, Barnes, real original.

“Thanks,” you replied, with an amused smile playing on your lips. “I like your... jacket.”

Bucky nodded, looking down at his worn leather jacket. “Yeah. It’s... warm.”

Warm? That’s what you’re going with? He mentally slapped himself. This was going well. So well. He tried to change the subject and scanned the menu. “Uh... so, what’s good here?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never been,” you said, fiddling with the edge of your napkin. “The internet said they have good coffee, though.”

“Internet reviews, huh?” Bucky raised an eyebrow. “That’s always a gamble. Could be great... could be a disaster.”

Cue the awkward silence.

The waiter had barely placed the food in front of you both before the quiet tension stretched between you like you were sitting in a library, not a café. Bucky poked at his bagel as if it might come to life at any moment, while you took a delicate sip of your coffee, your eyes darting between him and the wall behind him.

You both chewed in the most nonchalant way possible, each of you hyper-aware of the silence that was growing louder by the second. You were mentally cursing every decision that led to this exact moment, and Bucky, for his part, was questioning whether retiring from the whole Avenger thing had been a mistake.

Say something. Anything, Bucky thought, taking another bite of his bagel, which suddenly felt like chewing rubber. Ask about herr favorite food? No, that’s boring. Comment on the weather? Oh, yeah, nothing like ‘Hey, it’s been cold lately,’ to really sweep her off her feet. Real smooth.

Meanwhile, you were trying to figure out how you managed to forget how to make normal conversation. Maybe ask him about his hobbies? No, that’s basic. Compliment his hair? What are you, in fifth grade? Pull yourself together!

Bucky, still chewing the world’s driest bagel, caught your eye for a split second, and you both did that polite half-smile thing that happens when you’re not sure whether you should talk or continue pretending to enjoy the food.

Did she just smile at me because I’m being awkward, or am I overthinking this? Bucky wondered, immediately breaking eye contact and pretending his coffee was the most fascinating thing on the table.

You, on the other hand, were screaming internally. Oh God, did I smile too weird? Was it the kind of smile that says, ‘I like you,’ or the one that says, ‘I’m trapped in this date and don’t know how to escape’?

You both took another sip of your drinks at the exact same time.

Alright, Barnes, get it together. Say something smart, Bucky told himself, putting his mug down carefully.

“So, uh... how’s your coffee?”

You blinked, your brain scrambling for a response. How’s my coffee? It’s coffee. Just say it’s good. Don’t overthink it.

“It’s... good. How’s your bagel?”

Bucky looked down at the circular piece of bread like it had personally betrayed him. “It’s... round.”

Round? Really? You went with ‘round’? Smooth, real smooth, he chastised himself, nodding like he had just made the most profound statement about bagels ever.

Your lips twitched. Did he just describe his food as ‘round’? Okay, maybe I’m not the only one struggling here.

You took another sip of your coffee, trying to hide your smile. God, this is like watching two middle schoolers on a first date.

You both glanced at each other again. Smile. Look away. Silence.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair. Alright, clearly, she thinks I’m a complete idiot. But it’s fine. I can recover. Just... find a topic. Literally any topic.

You picked at your napkin. Okay, maybe I should mention the escape room next. But what if he hates escape rooms? What if he thinks they’re boring? You cleared your throat slightly, ready to speak, but then—

Bucky cleared his throat at the same time. You both froze, staring at each other like deer caught in headlights.

“You go first,” Bucky said quickly.

“No, no, you first,” you insisted, waving your hand.

Bucky’s brain blanked. He blinked, searching for anything to say. “Uh... did you... park nearby?”

You stared at him, and then a smile slowly spread across your face. Did he really just ask me about parking? You nodded. “No I–um took public transport. Did you?”

Bucky gave a stiff nod. “Yeah. Close. Very close. Super convenient.”

You both stared at each other for a beat, and then, in a miraculous moment, you both cracked up at the exact same time.

“Parking?” you laughed, shaking your head. “That’s the best we’ve got?”

Bucky held up his hands. “Hey, I panicked, okay? The bagel threw me off.”

You wiped a tear from your eye, your shoulders shaking with laughter. “And I thought the frogs were bad.”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh harder. “Okay, in my defense, this date is way better than ceramic frogs.”

“Glad to be the non-frog date.” You raised your cup in mock salute.

You both chuckled, and for the first time, the awkward tension seemed to melt away. Sure, you were a bit of a mess, but at least you were a mess together.

As you calmed down, you leaned forward, a playful grin on your face. “So, what’s next? You ready for the escape room?”

“I dunno. Should I be worried?” Bucky smirked, feeling a lot lighter.

“Only if you’re bad at puzzles,” you teased.

Bucky crossed his arms, leaning back with a smirk. “Oh, trust me, I think I’ll manage.”

And with that, you both finally stood up to head for the next part of your date, the awkwardness left behind with the round bagel and the overly complicated coffee.

× × × ×

As soon as you stepped into the Asylum escape room, the mood shifted from "awkward first date" to "this might be how I die."

Oh, great. Creepy hospital décor. Perfect first-date vibes. You eyed the flickering lights and eerie medical tools scattered around the room, trying not to let on how much it was creeping you out. At least it’s better than ceramic frogs, you thought, glancing at Bucky.

“This is supposed to be the hardest escape room they have,” you said, glancing at Bucky. “Takes most people at least an hour. You ready for this?”

“Yeah, sure. I mean... it’s puzzles, right? How hard can it be?” Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to appear calm. I’ve literally fought aliens. How bad could a few puzzles be?

“You’ve never done one of these before, right?” You looked at him, a bit skeptical.

He shook his head. “First time. But, uh... I’m good under pressure.” Under pressure? What am I saying? I sound like I’m about to defuse a bomb, not solve a riddle. Get a grip, Barnes.

“Alright. Let’s do this.” You smiled, trying to hide your own nerves. 

The clock started ticking, and immediately, you were plunged into darkness. A loud creak echoed through the room, followed by a voice over the intercom: “Welcome to the Asylum. You have 60 minutes to escape. Good luck... you’ll need it.”

Perfect. Creepy voice? Check. Flickering lights? Check. Yep, I'm doomed. You moved toward a stack of papers, squinting at the dim lighting. “Okay, first thing’s first... we need to find the clues hidden in this room to unlock the door.”

Before you could even start, Bucky was already inspecting a random pipe on the wall. He tugged at it, and it came loose, revealing a hidden key taped to the back. Oh, that was... lucky? Or did I just break something?

You froze mid-step. “Wait. How did you—”

“I... uh... just pulled on it.” Bucky looked just as surprised as you. Did I just accidentally solve this?

“Okay. Lucky guess.” You stared at him. 

Bucky shrugged. “Maybe.” Play it cool, Barnes. Don't look like you’re clueless here.

You both moved into the next room, which had even creepier décor. Faint writing on the walls, jars filled with unidentifiable things, and a mannequin in the corner that Bucky immediately side-eyed like it was going to jump out at you. Okay, I don’t trust that mannequin. Why’s it looking at me like that?

You picked up a piece of paper with some cryptic writing on it. “This says something about finding the light within the dark. I think it’s a clue. We need to—”

“Found it,” Bucky called out.

You turned to see him holding up a blacklight. How does he keep doing this?! 

“They always hide something with a blacklight, right?” He grinned, flashing the light on the wall, revealing a series of glowing numbers. That’s a thing, right? People hide stuff with these lights all the time... right?

“Oh, you’re just full of ideas now, huh?” You crossed your arms, smirking.

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, trying to play it cool. “Just... using my instincts.” Yep. Totally knew that.

You worked through the next few puzzles, but by "worked," what you really meant was Bucky accidentally stumbling into the solutions. Every time you tried to figure out a clue, Bucky would casually touch something, pull a lever, or press a random button that—surprise—opened the next door or revealed the next key. At first, you thought he was joking. But as the minutes ticked by, it became clear: Bucky was somehow solving the escape room by sheer dumb luck—or so you thought.

This is starting to freak me out... Am I secretly a genius? Bucky thought.

At one point, you were trying to decipher a complicated code etched into the wall, mumbling to yourself about numerology and patterns, when Bucky—completely oblivious—pulled a book off the shelf, and a hidden door creaked open in the floor.

No. No way. “Are you—” You blinked. “Did you just—”

Bucky glanced at the open trapdoor, confused. “What? Was that not supposed to happen?”

You slapped your forehead. “No! I mean, yes, but—oh my God, Bucky, you’re breaking the game.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “I swear I’m not doing it on purpose!” Seriously, I just touched a book. How is that a thing?

You looked down at the trapdoor, then back at him. “What are you? A puzzle savant? Did you plan this?”

Bucky laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. “Nah, I just thought the book looked weird.” Great, now she thinks I’m some kind of escape room wizard.

You gaped at him. “The book looked weird?” Weird? Dude, I’m starting to think you have X-ray vision.

“I mean... yeah. It was dusty.” It wasn’t even that weird... or was it?

You squinted at him, hands on your hips. “You’re telling me you spotted a dusty book and thought, ‘Aha! Hidden door.’?”

“Isn’t that... what you’re supposed to do in these rooms?” Bucky shrugged, looking genuinely sorry. Please tell me that's how this works.

This man is unbelievable. You stared at him for a long moment before bursting out laughing. “Oh my God. You’re accidentally good at this. You’re just walking around solving stuff like you do this every weekend!”

Bucky chuckled, his shoulders relaxing a little. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m glad she’s laughing. “I swear I’ve never done this before.” This isn’t even the weirdest thing that’s happened to me this week.

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or terrified,” you teased, stepping closer to him. “You’re like a walking cheat code.” Sure, Sherlock. Whatever you say.

“Hey, I’m just here to help.” He smiled, clearly enjoying your reaction. At least she’s impressed. That’s something.

I think you might secretly be a robot. You shook your head, grinning. “Alright, escape room prodigy, let’s see if you can crack the last one.”

You entered the final room—a dimly lit chamber with a creepy-looking mannequin in the corner and random medical equipment scattered around. You narrowed your eyes.

“Okay, this is the hardest part. No way you’re going to just... guess your way out of this one.”

“Yeah, this one’s. . . tricky.” Bucky glanced around, clearly trying to look casual. Please don’t let me stumble into the solution again... 

Please don’t let him find the solution immediately. Just this once.

You pointed at the mannequin. “We need to find a code hidden somewhere in this room. The clue says it’s ‘locked in the mind.’ So it has to be something mental, right? Like a puzzle?”

Bucky stared at the mannequin for a second, then slowly reached out and twisted its head off. Inside, there was a slip of paper with the code on it. Oh, come on. You’ve got to be kidding me.

“Are you KIDDING me?!” Your jaw dropped. 

“I just thought... you know... maybe the head comes off?” Bucky held up the paper, looking sheepish. 

Why am I even here?! You threw your hands up in the air. “Of COURSE the head comes off! Because that makes total sense! Sure!”

Bucky bit back a laugh. “Well, it did say ‘locked in the mind.’” Technically, I was right.

You glared at him, then shook your head, laughing despite yourself. “Okay, that’s it. You’re banned from escape rooms. You ruin them.”

“Ruined it?” Bucky asked, grinning. “We escaped, didn’t we?” She’s totally impressed, even if she won’t admit it.

“We escaped in twelve minutes, Bucky! Twelve!” You slapped his arm playfully. “That’s not normal!”

He laughed, ducking his head. “Sorry?” Guess I’m not so bad at this ‘fun date’ thing.

As you both stepped out of the escape room, the staff was standing there, looking like they’d just witnessed the impossible.

“You’re... done?” Pink-haired Girl asked, your eyes wide with disbelief.

Wow. They look like I just told them Santa isn’t real, Bucky thought.

You, just as confused, looked over at Bucky. “Uh. . .yeah, I guess?”

“Looks like it.” Bucky gave a casual shrug. No big deal. Just casually shattering dreams.

Clipboard Guy checked his stopwatch again, his mouth hanging open. “Twelve minutes. No. That’s not possible. People are supposed to break down in there. We’ve had people cry!”

Cry? What is this, an escape room or emotional boot camp? “You want me to go back in and tear up a little? You know, for the full experience?” Bucky raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. 

“People have left that room emotionally damaged. You just... strolled out.” Pink-haired Girl blinked. 

You stared at Bucky, still wrapping your head around it. “I didn’t even get through the first clue, and you were already unlocking half the room.”

“You were working hard. I just sped things up a bit.” Bucky chuckled softly, glancing at you with a playful smile. I mean, you were giving it a solid effort...

The Master of Puzzles guy appeared, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Did you... have the answers beforehand? Because that’s the hardest room we’ve got. We’ve had people rage-quit in there.”

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, looking amused. “Nah, just good at finding my way out of things.”

“I didn’t even do anything. You solved the whole thing!” You shook your head, still half-laughing, half in disbelief.

“Hey, you were a great moral support.” Bucky smiled at you, nudging you lightly. Seriously, though, it’s good to have someone to watch while I dismantle a room’s dignity.

Clipboard Guy muttered, “We’re gonna have to ban him. He’s banned.”

Oh no, I’ve ruined their sacred puzzle temple.

“He broke the hardest room we’ve got. Who even does that?” Pink-haired Girl nodded, still dumbfounded. 

“Well, I’d offer to go back and struggle a bit, but... I don’t think it’d be convincing.” Bucky smirked, leaning casually against the counter. Trust me, I can’t fake being bad at something. Even if I tried.

As you headed for the exit, Bucky held the door open for you, giving the staff one last glance before he leaned over to you, voice low. 

“What? You wanted to be stuck in there all night?”

“Honestly? It would’ve been nice to solve at least one puzzle.” You groaned, though you were smiling.

“Next time, I’ll let you have the first clue. Promise.” Bucky chuckled softly. And by let you, I mean I’ll stand far away from everything and try not to accidentally win.

 “You better.” You laughed, shaking your head as you both stepped out into the night.

× × × ×

The arcade was buzzing with lights, sounds, and the faint scent of popcorn. It was a complete shift from the eerie asylum escape room, and you were already eyeing the rows of flashing machines and claw games with glee.

Alright, this is more like it. No creepy mannequins here, just good old-fashioned fun.

Bucky, on the other hand, looked around like he had just entered a foreign world. The last time he’d been in an arcade, they didn’t have all this flashing neon or half the games that were here now. What happened to the simple stuff? Pinball machines and jukeboxes. Now I’ve got ten-foot robots staring at me while kids slap buttons like their lives depend on it.

Still, he couldn’t help but smile at how excited you looked. Okay, if she’s this excited, maybe this won’t be so bad.

“Okay, so... how does this place work again?” he asked, watching a kid furiously slap buttons at a nearby game.

You laughed, giving him a gentle nudge. “It’s simple! We just play a bunch of games, earn tickets, and then trade them in for really weird prizes. Easy.”

Bucky nodded, though he still looked a little confused. “So, you win tickets by—?”

“By being amazing at games, obviously,” you said, your eyes already darting toward a nearby basketball shooting game. “Let’s see if you can keep up.”

Bucky followed you, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Oh, I’ll keep up.” Alright, let’s see if I remember how to be competitive at... basketball?

You started with basketball, and while you had a decent shot, Bucky quickly became the Michael Jordan of arcade basketball. He tossed shot after shot into the hoop with ridiculous ease, barely even looking like he was trying.

Oh, come on. Seriously? Why is he good at everything? You shook your head in disbelief. “Oh, come on. Are you serious right now? Are you even aiming?”

“I dunno. I just... throw.” Bucky shrugged, not missing a single shot. 

“This is what I get for going on a date with someone who’s literally built for accuracy.” You playfully narrowed your eyes at him. Why am I pretending like I’m mad? It’s honestly impressive.

He flashed a boyish grin. “You wanted to see if I could keep up.” Oh, I’m keeping up, doll.

You crossed your arms, pretending to pout. “I wasn’t trying to lose in record time.”

When the game ended, Bucky had a ridiculous amount of points, and you had... well, significantly fewer. He collected your combined tickets from the machine, glancing down at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Should I carry these, or do you want to hold on to the three tickets you earned?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

How is he still charming even while teasing me? This is unfair. You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you snatched a couple of tickets from his hand with a grin. “You know what? Fuck you.”

“Careful, doll. You keep talking like that, and I might just take you up on it.” Bucky’s smirk widened, and he leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice just enough to make your pulse quicken. 

Okay, that was a little too good. I should not be blushing right now. Your eyes widened for a second, a flush creeping up your neck before you shot him a playful glare. “You wish.”

“You know I don’t have to wish for anything.” He chuckled, stepping back with a wink.

Well, that escalated quickly. You tried to bite back your smile, but it was impossible with the way he was looking at you. “I’m starting to regret bringing you here.”

Bucky held up the stack of tickets, grinning like a kid who just won the lottery. “You’re only regretting it because I’m walking away with all the prizes.” Did I just turn an arcade into a battlefield?

“Yeah, yeah, keep rubbing it in.” You huffed, shaking your head, though the smile on your face said otherwise. 

Bucky shot you another wink. “Oh, I plan to.”

This guy is dangerous with that smile. You smirked, leaning in a little. “So... what happened to the awkward guy who pointed out that bagels are round? Because this,” you waved at the arcade tickets, “does not feel like the same guy.”

“What? You weren’t impressed by my bagel observations?” Bucky chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. I was doing my best back then, okay?

You laughed, giving him a playful nudge. “Oh, I was very impressed. I just didn’t know you were hiding this arcade legend behind all that bagel wisdom.”

He grinned, eyes glinting. “I’m full of surprises, doll.” You have no idea.

“Clearly,” you said, still teasing him as you walked toward the next game. “Let’s see how many more surprises you’ve got.”

You dragged him over to the shooting gallery game, where you were met with an array of plastic rifles and paper targets.

“I’m kinda good at this,” you declared, grabbing one of the rifles with renewed determination. “You can’t have a crazy aim for everything.” Finally, something I can win.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, amused. “Okay. Let’s see what you got.”

You aimed and fired... missing every single target. You winced as the targets flipped back and forth, mocking you with their tiny, evil faces. Are you kidding me?

“You’re holding it too tight.” Bucky stepped up beside you, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“Oh, great. Here we go. The expert.” You groaned. Of course, I’m holding it too tight. Leave it to Bucky to know everything.

Bucky smiled, but instead of saying anything, he stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around you, his hands gently guiding yours on the plastic gun. You froze, your heart skipping a beat as you felt the warmth of him so close. His breath was soft against your ear as he leaned in to guide your aim, his voice low and steady.

Why does he have to be so good at this? I can barely think straight.

“Relax,” he murmured, his hands adjusting yours gently. “Don’t grip it so hard. Just like this.”

How am I supposed to relax when he’s practically wrapped around me?

Your pulse quickened, your senses suddenly overwhelmed by how close he was. His cologne—woodsy and warm—filled your lungs, making you a little dizzy. You swallowed hard, focusing on anything but the way your back pressed against his chest. “Okay... relax. Right. Got it.”

“You’re not relaxing.” Bucky’s voice was low, almost teasing.

Yeah, no kidding. Not exactly easy when you smell like a lumberjack dream. 

“I am relaxed!” you shot back, though your heart was racing so fast you were sure he could hear it.

Bucky chuckled, and the soft rumble of his laugh vibrated against your back. “If you were relaxed, you wouldn’t be holding your breath.” 

If she’s holding her breath, I must be doing something right.

You blinked, realizing that yes, you were in fact holding your breath. You exhaled slowly, trying to focus on the targets instead of the fact that Bucky was basically wrapped around you.

“Good,” he said quietly, his hands still steadying yours. “Now, pull the trigger. Nice and easy.”

Yeah, this is totally normal. Just shooting targets, totally not thinking about how close we are.

You followed his lead, squeezing the trigger gently. The shot rang out, and the sound of a hit echoed through the machine. The target flipped backward, signaling a perfect hit.

“I did it!” you exclaimed, your excitement bubbling over as you turned your head to look at him.

Your faces were just inches apart. Bucky’s eyes locked on yours, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The air between you was thick with tension, the good kind—the kind that makes your heart race and your stomach flip.

God, she’s close. Just a little closer...

Your gaze flickered down to his lips, and Bucky swallowed hard, momentarily forgetting where you were or what you were doing. All he could think about was how easy it would be to lean in just a little more, to—

“Uh, sorry!” A kid nearby bumped into the machine, jolting you both out of the moment.

Of course. Great timing, kid.

You quickly stepped out of Bucky’s embrace, your face flushed. “Well, um... thanks for the lesson, Barnes.”

Bucky cleared his throat, his ears a little pink. “Yeah. Anytime.” Anytime? Seriously, Barnes? That’s all you’ve got?

You moved on to a few more games, but the tension between you still lingered, electric and unspoken. After a particularly intense game of air hockey (where you almost won, thanks to Bucky being a little too distracted by you), you found yourselves at the prize counter.

Your eyes scanned the shelves, but one prize in particular caught your attention: an absolutely massive goose plush sitting at the top of the prize display. It was ridiculous, almost comically large, but it made you smile instantly.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, pointing. “That goose is so cute.”

Bucky followed your gaze and raised an eyebrow. A goose? Really? She could pick anything, and it’s that giant bird?

“You like that thing?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

“I mean, look at it. It’s the size of a couch,” you said, laughing. “No one’s ever gonna win enough tickets for that.”

Bucky looked thoughtful for a second. Then, without saying a word, he handed all of your tickets to the guy at the counter. Challenge accepted, doll.

The kid behind the counter stared at him. “Uh, you know this isn’t enough for the goose, right?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, but... what’s it take to win that thing?”

Because clearly, winning giant plush birds is my new priority in life.

The kid blinked. “Like... a thousand tickets.”

Bucky smirked, then turned to you. “Wait here.”

“What are you doing?” You frowned, confused. 

Please don’t say you’re going to try and win a thousand tickets... oh my God, he’s going to try and win a thousand tickets.

Bucky said nothing and disappeared into the crowd. A few minutes later, you saw him at one of those old-school, rigged basketball games. His face was calm, determined—like he was about to go to war.

One after the other, Bucky sank shot after shot, racking up points so fast that you had to rub your eyes to believe it. Within minutes, he had earned a mountain of tickets. He moved on to another game, this time skee-ball, and then to another. Every single game, he dominated, earning enough tickets to make the counter kid’s jaw drop when he returned with what looked like a roll of tickets big enough to use as a belt.

“Holy crap,” you muttered, watching as Bucky handed the tickets over, a satisfied smirk on his face. The kid counted them, eyes wide, then slowly reached for the giant goose plush.

The oversized goose was practically half Bucky’s height as he carried it back over to you, grinning.

“Here you go,” he said, handing it to you with a proud look. “You said you liked it, right?”

Who just... casually wins a giant goose plush? How did he do that?

You stared at the giant, fluffy creature, then at him, your heart flipping over itself. “Bucky... this is insane. It’s huge.”

“Well, I couldn’t just leave without winning you something.” He shrugged, his grin boyish and a little shy. Yeah, Barnes, act like you’re not insanely proud of yourself right now. 

He’s... adorable. Stop. Focus. “You really didn’t have to... but I love it.” You laughed, hugging the goose to your chest. 

“Good.” Bucky’s eyes softened as he watched you smile. Worth every single ticket.

Your heart raced, your face heating up as you looked at him over the massive plush. “You’re full of surprises, Barnes. Who knew you’d be this good at arcades?”

Just trying to impress the girl, no big deal.

“Maybe I just wanted to impress you.” He smiled, a little more reserved this time.

Well, mission accomplished, buddy. You blushed, the air between you crackling again with that familiar tension. “Well, mission accomplished.”

You stood there for a moment, just smiling at each other, the absurdly large goose between you, until you laughed and nudged him with your elbow.

“You know, this might be the best date I’ve ever been on,” you said, your tone light but sincere. Was that too much? Did I just over-share?

Bucky’s smile grew, his eyes softening. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said softly, holding the goose a little tighter. “Definitely the best.” Okay, that was smooth. Not awkward at all.

You left the arcade with the giant goose plush between you, its goofy face almost mocking the awkwardness that had suddenly crept back into your steps. Bucky walked beside you, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, trying to figure out what to say.

Do I say something? Or just... keep walking?

The sounds of the city filled the silence around you, but neither of you spoke. The playful energy from the arcade had faded into something quieter, more uncertain.

Why am I so bad at this? Just say something, Barnes.

After a long stretch of quiet, Bucky cleared his throat. “So... is this the end?” Smooth, real smooth.

You blinked and glanced over at him, trying to keep your heart from doing a flip at his words. “Well, that’s all I had planned. Why?”

Bucky hesitated, his jaw tightening slightly as he looked ahead, his mind clearly weighing something. Okay, don’t screw this up. Don’t sound too eager.

For a moment, you thought maybe he was going to say goodbye, that maybe this was the end of your date after all. But then, he spoke quietly, almost as if he was embarrassed to admit it.

“I kind of don’t want to go home yet.” Well, there it is. Now she knows.

You felt a flutter in your chest, your face heating up as a small, shy smile tugged at your lips. You ducked your head, looking down at the sidewalk to hide the blush creeping across your cheeks. The way he said it—so simple but sincere—made your heart skip.

Why does that sound so much cuter than it should? You bit your lip, an idea suddenly coming to you.

“Well...” you started, glancing up at him. “There’s a new building by the riverside with a sky deck. It just opened recently, and it’s supposed to have the best view of the city.”

“Sky deck, huh?” Bucky raised an eyebrow, intrigued. A sky deck? Yeah, that sounds better than awkwardly walking home.

You nodded, a little more excited now. “Yeah. It’s pretty high up, and overlooks the whole city. I haven’t been yet, but I heard it’s amazing at night.”

“Sounds better than going home.” Bucky tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a soft smile. Thank God. I’m not ready for this to be over yet.

“Then let’s go.” You grinned, feeling your heart race just a little faster. 

You shared a quick, almost nervous glance at each other before walking in the direction of the riverside. The awkwardness wasn’t completely gone, but now, it was laced with anticipation, a kind of giddy energy that made your stomach flutter. You hugged the plush goose a little tighter, trying not to let your excitement show too much, but inside, you were buzzing.

× × × × 

The city lights shimmered below you as you lounged on the comfy chairs, drinks in hand. The night air was cool, but it didn’t come close to breaking the warmth buzzing between you and Bucky.

She’s... something else, Bucky thought, leaning back slightly. His gaze kept shifting between the breathtaking skyline and you, but he found himself more captivated by you. How am I supposed to focus on the view when she looks like that?

Noticing the quiet, you smirked. “So, you were really gonna end the night without showing off more of your endless talents?”

Oh, she’s teasing now. Alright, two can play this game. Bucky raised an eyebrow, amused. “What, beating you at arcade games wasn’t enough?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re a walking cheat code, Bucky. But I feel like there’s more you’re holding back.”

His eyes flickered over your face, lingering on your lips for just a little too long. More than you know, doll. “Maybe I am.”

Your breath caught for a second, but you quickly recovered, tilting your head and flashing him a grin. “Oh yeah? Like what? Some secret talent I should know about?”

Keep your cool, Barnes. Don't blow it now.

Bucky leaned in just a fraction, his voice lowering, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve. But I only show them to people who ask nicely.”

God, does he have to sound that smooth? Your heart flipped at the way he was looking at you, intense, as if he was seeing through every joke and teasing comment. How am I supposed to keep this casual?

“Nicely, huh? And what do I have to do for you to show me?” you asked, your voice quieter now, the playful banter fading into something more charged.

“Keep hanging around,” he said softly.

I’m in deep now. Bucky's eyes dropped to your lips again, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to blur into nothing. Should I kiss her? Maybe I’m reading this wrong...

His eyes dropped to your lips again, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to blur into nothing. It was just him—his voice, his presence, the way he was looking at you like he wanted to kiss you but was holding back.

You swallowed, feeling the tension build like a slow fire. You sipped your drink, trying to cool yourself down, but it did little to shake the feeling that something between you had shifted. Stop overthinking, just go with it.

“I could do that,” you murmured, a small smile playing on your lips. You felt his eyes on you, and the air between you felt electric. You glanced at him, catching him staring at your lips again. Your pulse jumped. He’s really staring... isn’t he?

“You’re staring,” you said, teasing, though your voice had a soft edge to it, your heart thudding in your chest.

Bucky blinked, caught, but instead of pulling away, he smirked. “Am I?”

Yeah, Bucky, play it cool. Like you haven’t been staring for the past five minutes.

“Mhm,” you teased, though your voice was barely steady. Why does that smirk make my heart race? “I mean, I get it. The view’s great and all.”

Bucky’s smirk deepened, his voice dropping lower. “You could say that.”

I can’t believe this is actually happening. You felt your face heat up at the way he was looking at you. The intensity of his gaze made your stomach do wild flips. Why is this so... intense?

“You’re not just talking about the city, are you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled softly, sending shivers down your spine. Just kiss her already. “Maybe not.”

Your breath hitched. “And what are you looking at?”

He leaned in slightly, his gaze locked on yours. “What do you think?”

She knows exactly what I’m looking at. 

Your heart raced, the pull between you growing stronger with every passing second. His eyes kept flicking down to your lips, making you wonder if he was going to kiss you. I really shouldn’t wait any longer...

Bucky cleared his throat suddenly, as if shaking off the trance he’d been in, and leaned back into his seat, looking almost embarrassed. Okay, maybe I’m rushing this.

“Sorry... I didn’t mean to—”

“No,” you interrupted quickly, your voice softer, gentler now. God, why did he stop? “Don’t be. I didn’t mind.”

His gaze snapped back to yours, the tension flaring again. She didn’t mind? Well, maybe I didn’t screw up, after all—or I did because you didn’t kiss her you idiot. He opened his mouth to say something, but instead, a soft smile tugged at his lips, and his expression softened.

“So... orthopedic ward, huh?” he said, shifting the conversation, though his eyes were still locked on you. “How do you handle that? All those broken bones?”

Smooth, Barnes. Talk about bones to distract yourself from the fact you were just about to kiss her.

You took a deep breath, relieved for the break in intensity but missing it instantly. Great, now I’m thinking about how close he was... “Well, it’s mostly convincing people not to do dumb things. Like skateboarding down staircases. You wouldn’t believe what people put themselves through.”

Bucky chuckled. Yeah, I believe it. Considering I’ve done dumber things in my time. “I can believe it. I’ve been there.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’ve skateboarded down staircases?”

“No, but I’ve done some pretty stupid things in my time,” he admitted, leaning in again. Pretty sure falling for you might top the list. “But if I did something dumb, you’d patch me up, right?”

You smirked, your eyes twinkling. He’s flirting again. I can’t take this seriously. “Oh, I’d patch you up. But I’d make sure to remind you how dumb you were the entire time.”

“Fair,” Bucky said, the distance between you shrinking again. Patch me up, lecture me—just keep talking, I don’t care. “But I think I’d be a good patient.”

You shook your head with a grin. Good patient? Doubtful. “I doubt that. You’d probably complain the whole time.”

“I wouldn’t,” he replied, his tone teasing but soft. I’d let her take care of me, no problem. “If you were the one taking care of me, I’d be on my best behavior.”

He’s definitely not just talking about broken bones... Your heart skipped at the way he was looking at you again, his voice dropping to something more intimate. The banter was light, but underneath it all, there was that same intensity. Okay, now I’m thinking about kissing him again...

“You don’t strike me as someone who’s ever on their best behavior,” you teased softly, though your breath caught in your throat.

Bucky smirked, his eyes flicking to your lips again. “Maybe you bring it out in me.”

God, I hope so.

The words hung between you, heavy with meaning. Your pulse raced, and you leaned into the moment, letting the tension simmer between you, unspoken but undeniable. He’s close again…

“I’ll have to see that for myself,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heartbeat.

She’s close, too. Just lean in, Barnes. Bucky’s gaze darkened, his voice low and rough. “You just might.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as the tension between you crackled, thick and electric. You shifted slightly, leaning in with a playful smirk. “So... tell me, you got any other dates lined up after this one?”

Bucky’s eyes flickered with amusement as he leaned back, crossing his arms. Dates? I can barely keep up with this one. “Why? You worried I’ve got someone else lined up?”

You grinned, holding his gaze. “Maybe. Should I be?”

Not a chance. He leaned in closer, the space between you shrinking as his voice dropped lower. “I don’t know... do you have any other dates lined up?”

He’s really turning this on me, huh? You blinked, your heart racing, but you quickly shot back, “Well, maybe... maybe not. Depends on how this one ends.”

Bucky chuckled softly, his eyes dropping to your lips again, the intensity rising. Alright, Barnes, time to end this date right. “Guess I better make sure it ends right, then.”

Before you could respond, Bucky reached out, his fingers gently tilting your chin up. His other hand slid to the back of your neck, his thumb brushing tenderly against your cheek as he leaned in, your lips so close you could feel his breath.

Your heart was pounding, your breath shallow, as his parted lips brushed against yours, soft and slow, his head tilting just slightly. The kiss was gentle at first, his lips locking against yours in a way that made everything around you fade to nothing. He could taste the faint sweetness of your daiquiri on your lips, and with a soft groan, his tongue did a slow, savoring lick against your bottom lip before slipping past, deepening the kiss.

Your hands instinctively moved up, cupping his face as you kissed him back, your fingers sliding along the scruff of his jaw. The warmth of his touch, the way his thumb stroked your cheek, the way his lips moved against yours —everything about it was intoxicating, pulling you under.

Then Bucky pulled back for a quick gasp, his breath mingling with yours , before diving back in, capturing your lips with even more intensity. The kiss deepened, more urgent this time, as though neither of you wanted the moment to end. His hand on your nape tightened slightly, pulling you closer as the kiss intensified, his lips pressing more firmly against yours.

They didn’t stop until they couldn’t breathe anymore, finally pulling apart when the need for air overtook you, both of you breathless and flushed. Their foreheads rested together, the cool night air doing little to cool the heat between you. Bucky’s thumb gently stroked your cheek as he whispered, his voice rough, “Definitely no other dates lined up after this.”

You smiled, your hands still cradling his face, your heart pounding. “Good. Neither do I.”

× × × ×

As Bucky’s motorcycle came to a slow stop outside your house, and glanced up at your front porch. You hopped off the bike, shaking out your hair with a satisfied grin.

That ride was way too short... you thought, glancing at him as you handed Bucky his helmet, which he stubbornly told you to wear instead of him.

Bucky, being the gentleman, didn’t just let you off with a wave. He slid off the bike and stood up straight, dusting his hands like he was about to help carry your groceries.

Alright, Barnes. Play it cool.

"I’ll walk you up," he said casually, like it wasn’t 2024 and people usually just waved from their cars.

You raised an eyebrow, your lips quirking into a smirk. "You’re walking me to my porch?"

Bucky nodded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. She thinks it’s weird? Hell, I thought that’s what you’re supposed to do.

“Of course. What kind of guy lets a lady walk to her door alone?” he replied, shrugging like this was completely normal.

You tried not to laugh, biting your lip to hold back a smile. He’s serious. Oh my God, he’s really serious. "Wow, okay, Mr. 1940s. What’s next, you gonna tip your hat and call me ‘ma’am’?"

Bucky smirked, taking a step closer. Alright, go with it, Barnes. “I could, if that’s what you’re into.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes but smiling as you walked together toward your porch. He’s ridiculous... and kinda sweet. You couldn’t help but notice how he slowed his pace just a little, like he was savoring the moment, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, casual yet somehow... considerate.

When you reached your porch, Bucky stopped, glancing at your door as if making sure it was safe territory. This is it. Play it smooth.

You turned to him, unable to hold back a laugh this time. "So, do I get a secret code to get into my own house, or...?"

Bucky grinned, leaning casually against the porch railing. “Just making sure you get home safe.”

Alright, Barnes, she’s not buying it. But hey, it worked.

“You know, they invented porch lights for a reason.” You shook your head, amused. He’s seriously acting like my personal bodyguard right now.

“What can I say? Old habits die hard.” Bucky shrugged, leaning in just a little closer, that playful glint in his eye. Please don’t laugh, please don’t laugh.

You looked up at him, crossing your arms with a smirk. “You know, there’s a fine line between being a gentleman and babysitting.”

Bucky chuckled. She’s killing me with that smirk. “Hey, you never know. There could be a rogue bagel out here, just waiting to trip you up.”

Oh, not the bagels again. “Oh my God, not the bagels again!” you burst out laughing, shaking your head.

He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “You know they’re round, right?”

This man is unbelievable. You groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead. “I think we’ve officially come full circle.”

“Just like a bagel.” Bucky gave a slow, dramatic nod.

You couldn’t help but laugh again, but you shook your head, standing on your porch with your hands on your hips. Why do I like this guy so much?

“Alright, alright, you’ve escorted me safely to my door. Anything else, or are you going to salute me goodbye?”

Bucky’s grin softened, and with a playful twinkle in his eye, he gave a small, mock salute. She’s gotta be messing with me right now, right? “Goodnight, ma’am.”

“Goodnight, soldier.” You couldn’t stop smiling as you opened your door, turning back to look at him. Don’t walk away, don’t walk away yet...

As you slipped inside, you peeked out one last time, watching as Bucky lingered for a second, that charming smirk still on his face before he finally turned and headed back to his bike. Say something, Barnes. Don’t just leave like a dork.

But then he stopped, halfway to his bike, and turned back around, something flickering in his eyes.

No, I’m not leaving yet. Not without...

Before you could ask what he was doing, Bucky closed the distance between you with a few long strides. Without hesitating, he gently tilted your chin up, his thumb brushing your cheek as he leaned in and kissed you—soft, quick, but just enough to make your heart race. His lips parted against yours, and for a split second, you tasted the warmth of him before he pulled back, just enough to meet your eyes.

That... was... wow.

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart doing a somersault. Did that just happen? You were still processing when Bucky grinned, his voice a little more hushed. “I guess I couldn’t leave without a proper goodbye.”

Smooth, Barnes. Real smooth.

You blinked, trying to find your voice, but all that came out was a soft, “No complaints here.”

Bucky chuckled softly, his hand still lingering at your neck for a moment longer. Then, he cleared his throat, stepping back a bit. “Hey, uh... you got a number I could call sometime?”

He’s asking for my number after that?

You smiled, feeling your heart flutter as you reached into your pocket, grabbing your phone. “Yeah, here—let me put it in.”

As you typed in your number, Bucky watched you, that familiar twinkle back in his eyes. Best decision I’ve made all night.

When you handed his phone back, your fingers brushed his, sending a small jolt up your arm. Yep, I’m done for.

Bucky pocketed the phone, flashing that boyish grin again. “Alright. I’ll call you.”

Yeah, you better. “I’ll hold you to that.”

He took a slow step down from the porch, but not without glancing over his shoulder one more time. “Goodnight... again.”

You stood there, grinning like an idiot. “Goodnight, Bucky.”

As Bucky made his way back to his bike, you slipped inside your house, leaning against the door as your heart raced. Did he really just kiss me? Again? Oh, this is definitely not over.

You peeked out one last time through the crack in the door, watching him as he swung his leg over his bike. Even from your doorway, you could hear him muttering with a smirk, “Just trying to keep the rogue bagels at bay.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you finally closed the door behind you, your heart racing a little more than you expected. I’m never going to forget this night...

[simpjaes]

PLAYER RANK: PLATINUM (l.hs)

You’re not sure what’s worse, your sister’s boyfriend or your sister’s boyfriend’s friends. What you thought would be a great deal in living with her throughout college turns into a major game of cat and mouse, where you’re unsure if your moral compass is pointing in the right direction solely because you suspect someone is wearing a giant sex magnet to throw it off. 

៸៸៸ minors do not interact!

៸៸៸ simp gamer ! lee heeseung x afab reader 

 ៸៸៸ wc: 30k

 ៸៸៸ tags: smut, sister’s boyfriend trope, exhibitionism and voyeurism, dom heeseung, he is also unemployed lol, gaming antics, discord streaming, sexting, sex bets, shameless behavior, food mentions, alcohol use, implied sickness due to said alcohol, jake, sunghoon, and jay as the gamer friends who have a bet going. also the guys who get to watch….kind of. 

 ៸៸៸ !WARNINGS!: cheating/infidelity, dubcon-ish at one instance, heeseung is mean and manipulative. instances where jake, jay, and sunghoon take advantage of a situation where reader is drunk (conversation based), the reader can be lifted, visibly marked, has hair that can have fingers ran through it, and blushes visibly.

 ៸៸៸ a/n: this fic was written for heeseung's gf @drunkhazed! i really loved the idea, as you can see, i kind of went crazy with it. i hope it lives up to your imagination but maybe not idk. you better love it anyway oomfie, bc i loved writing it for u. this fic was briefly edited but likely still has a million typos and grammar errors.

៸៸៸ nsfw tags below

៸៸៸ nsfw tags: 10” heeseung, dubcon-ish at one instance,  masturbation, pillow humping, cum eating, degradation, hentai watching, sexting, sex on camera, blow job, voyeurism, exhibitionism, deep penetration, cream pie, breeding, blood and spit, one mention of piss but no actual piss (form of degradation), fingers down your throat.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Walking into an empty room has never felt so freeing, especially in knowing this is your space. Safe from your parents, bare and ready to be adorned with all of the things you hold dear to you. What’s even better? It’s bigger than your room back home, and you even have a little attached bathroom of your own. 

Life is great. You think studying here will ease your mind and allow you to graduate top of your class by the time it’s all over and done with. If you could kiss your sister, you would, really. 

You remember being kids and the two of you promising that when you grow up, you’d live together and never grow apart. After actually growing up though, she finished her degree and went off on her own, leaving you by yourself with no one to get you through the hardships of becoming a college student yourself.

With her working full time for several years and you struggling your own way to the top, she really did follow through with that young childhood promise. 

“Why don’t you come live with me through college? I’m sure it would be easier than living with all those rules.” 

You didn’t even think twice and had your bags packed a single day after the invitation. You stayed up all night getting it done, emptying your childhood room filled with both good and bad memories. Alas, you did have to wait until the spring semester was over though. Thankfully, you were only sleeping in a packed up room for about a week.

You find yourself here now, with your sister lovingly making lunch in the kitchen while her boyfriend, who you have only met briefly at holiday gatherings, stays in the office-turned-gaming room hooting and howling over some game he’s playing.

“Don’t mind him.” She half-smiles when he doesn’t immediately head for the kitchen, making her own plate and moving to the table with a sense of annoyance. “He’ll be out in a bit, it’s a pretty normal occurrence.” 

“You don’t think it’s rude?” You furrow your brows now, automatically assuming that your sister deserves a man willing to work just as much as she does. Still, you don’t entirely mind that you weren’t forced into an official meeting of the man of the house first thing when you walked in.

“Nah, not really. Been dating him for years, I knew what I signed up for when I moved him in.” She smiles while shaking her head, seemingly accepting all of his positives and negatives.

“Does he not have a job?” You pry, picking at your plate and trying to memorize his actual name because for a little while, you really started to wonder if his name was just a variation of “honey” and “babe”. Thankfully not. 

“He’s looking for one.” She says, looking at you and trying to read your judgment. “Before you say anything, he has money. Or–well, his parent’s have money. They pay his half of the rent right now.”

You shrug, noting that she really does seem happy and you’d be the best person to judge her level of fulfillment outside of herself anyway. You trust that she picked the right man, even if he’s still screaming in the other room with an empty stomach. 

“By the way…” She says with a wicked smile, one that you remember growing up with. The other end of that smile always ends with some sort of…antic. “We’re throwing you a welcome party this weekend. Inviting all of our friends too, so it’s easier for you to start being social on this side of town.”

You would groan, but growing up in your childhood home with your parents never came with parties. No birthdays at home, no sleepovers, nothing. Hell, they wouldn’t even allow you to attend other parties as a child, and going to college parties was out of the question.

The only party you ever attended was during the time you snuck out. They made damn sure you never snuck out again after that mishap as well. 

“Oh, really?” You chew and speak at the same time, not minding your manners at all considering you can get away with it now. “Is there gonna be alcohol?” 

“Oh, yes, yes.” She smiles again. “Gonna give you a proper party since, you know.”

You nod to her and you both laugh together at the found freedom you share, and then, well, the king of screaming like a toddler walks in. His hair looks like shit, an indent at the top of the messy locks indicating that he must have had his headset on for a long fucking time. Loose shirt with the sleeves pushed up, eyes sleepy and red, probably burning from the sunlight coming through the windows, and some sort of smile on his face. He looks at his girlfriend with that tired smile, about to thank her for the meal, then his eyes trail to you.

“Oh fuck–” His hands raise to run his fingers through his hair, then both rest on the back of his neck as he lets out a big sigh. “Was that today?” 

You give him the side eye of all side eyes at this moment. Reminding yourself how you and your sister spent all morning hauling your stuff in without his help. She also did say he would have put together your desk, dresser, shelf, and bed frame by the time you got here. Well, he didn’t.

“Yep.” She pops the p on the end of her word indicating passive aggressive annoyance. 

“Shit.” He mumbles under his breath, placing his empty plate right back into the cupboard and making his way to your room. “I’ll do it now. I’m sorry babe.” 

Your sister nods triumphantly, watching your look of surprise in reaction to the way he instantly appears to fix his mistake without more than a single word from her. 

“He knows when he fucks up. He was supposed to do it yesterday but as you can see, he hasn’t left his PC since like, nine o’ clock last night.” She shrugs.

You laugh, furrowing your brow at her. 

“I really didn’t expect him to be so lazy, sis, I always figured you’d be dating a doctor or something.” 

She brushes off her shoulders with a proud look, leaning towards you with a smile. 

“He was working a really good job but I could see how unhappy he was. I’m giving him a year or two to figure himself out. He’s been back and forth trying new things, hasn’t quite landed on anything he likes yet though.” 

She is a fucking saint. Honestly, Heeseung might be the luckiest man in the world to have a woman willing to do such a thing for him. 

“Woah,” You start, taking a sip of your water. “He’s trying to make it as a streamer right now, I take it?”

She shakes her head with an eye roll.

“Not really, he’s just always spent as much free time as possible playing but, I trust that he’ll figure something out sooner rather than later.” 

And you pry for a while longer. Learning about all of the things your sister and Heeseung do together, learning about her friends and his friends, the rules of the house, and the not-rules of the house. For instance, you’re allowed to bring home hook-ups or dates if you give a fair warning so she doesn’t have to hear it. However, the food in the fridge is for the house occupants only, and people need to ask before opening the cupboards and filling their plates. Of course, unless there is a party. 

Another rule, which was a bit too much information but you figure it’s fair since everyone here is an adult. She and Heeseung apparently have a pretty active sex life and apologized in advance for some of the things you may end up hearing. She also noted that there will be ear plugs if you need them, but that she suggests throwing on some headphones and ignoring it. Fair enough, it’s her house anyway. 

And after a few hours pass, Heeseung makes his way out of your room with a smile on his face. You remember seeing him maybe two or three times during the holidays but he never mingled with you. He never mingled with anyone, actually. He tended to keep to himself, with his loose fitting outfits always sticking out in the awkward family photos that your sister would sneak him into. That’s all you can really recall about him. 

It is kind of strange seeing him in his natural habitat of your sister’s house. Already, you’ve seen more personality in him than you ever did during the brief meetings. It’s kind of nice to see him proudly nodding his head to your bedroom as if to invite you in properly like he should have done hours ago when you arrived. He took it upon himself to rearrange the room for maximum space. Arguably, you’re impressed. 

“I unpacked some of your things too.” He comments as he hugs your sister from behind in the doorway. “Needed to make sure the dresser drawers wouldn’t cave in.” 

Your eyes trail to the pretty dresser, painted white with even prettier trim on it. It’s the first time you’ve ever had a matching bedroom set. You head over and take a peek in the drawers, noting that he didn’t just haphazardly throw your clothes in there. 

Top drawer, all of your undergarments are fucking folded. Second drawer, socks, tights, and leggings, third drawer, soft pajama sets also folded. And the fourth drawer remains empty.

You turn to look at him, embarrassed by the fact that he took it upon himself to do that. You can’t see a single shred of embarrassment in his own face though, and it appears he really was just being nice. 

“Don’t be embarrassed. I do the laundry here so I’ll be folding those more often than you’d think.” He smiles, and your sister lends a chuckle. 

“He’s gotta do something while I’m making most of the money.” She shrugs, totally fine with the fact that her boyfriend just handled every piece of underwear you own save for the ones you’re wearing. 

“Closet too, hung up what I could but I’m like, really hungry so I figured I could leave the rest to you.” 

You nod in appreciation, in awe of your new room and the soft, plush carpet on your floor. Your old room was hard wood with dust filled corners, it felt cold. Here though? You feel welcomed, warm, and cozy. 

Hundreds of ideas flood your mind about how you want to decorate the room and as you go to start unpacking your miscellaneous items, your sister nods and backs out of the room with her boyfriend still hugging her from behind. 

There, you’re left to your own devices. 

Another thought crosses your mind when you hear the door close as well. The fact that you haven’t had a door to close for your bedroom since you snuck out all those years ago. The sound felt like music to your ears as you found yourself falling back on the bare mattress with a deep and relieved sigh. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

With all of the unpacking, wall art compositions, and napping in between, the week flew by quicker than you anticipated.

Waking up today, at half past two in the afternoon felt so good. Your duvet felt crispy, your room was completed and finally your own, and it felt safe. You could smell the breakfast cooking in the kitchen, and your sister’s voice paired with Heeseung ringing fondly at each other. 

Little bit strange that you didn’t wake up to silence in the house, considering Heeseung is usually just now heading to sleep with that fucked up sleep schedule and your sister is normally lounging in the living room with a snack, iced coffee, and watching her favorite reality shows. Save for when she’s at work all day, of course.

Still, you slowly pull yourself out of bed feeling happy and refreshed, stepping into your attached bathroom to do your morning routine before exiting the room, and then heading into the kitchen with a small “good morning.”

“It’s nearly three in the afternoon.” Your sister smiles at you. “But good morning to you too sis.”

Heeseung, seemingly dressed for the day with a band tee and a beanie on, lends you a glance and a wave as he swings back and forth in the kitchen, mixing pancake batter in a bowl for your sister and unaware of the speckle of said batter stuck in a strand of his hair. 

You lean over your sister’s shoulder after waving back to him, noting how she’s making little bite-sized pieces of pancake. Ah, this is the life, really. 

“Well? Don’t just stand there? Pour some juice or something. We need a big meal before tonight.” Your sister laughs at your sleepy content hum from behind her, noting how you act much like she did when she first got out of the childhood home. 

You take a step back, eyeing the room, trying to put the puzzle pieces together as to why Heeseung is awake and dressed and why she’s making a big meal to begin with. Both your sister and Heeseung note the confusion on your face. 

“Ah, she forgot.” He rumbles with a smirk, not keeping his eyes on you for too long as his focus falls back to mixing. 

“Did you really forget?” Your sister rolls her eyes with a spatula in hand, turning to you and putting her other hand on her hip. “Everyone seems excited to meet you, they’ll probably start pouring in around six or seven tonight.”

“Oh, right! The party!” You exclaim, shocked that you really did forget about it. With your sister’s promise of alcohol, you assume that explains the large breakfast, and also probably why Heeseung doesn’t look like a total slob.

“Yeah, the party.” Heeseung snickers, his back turned away from you but overall acting as if you’ve already lived here for months. Throwing the same sarcasm at you that your sister does. 

“Now go pour some juice, we have to go to the store after this and pick out drinks.” Your sister finally says, turning back to flip the pancakes in the pan. “You have drank since I moved out, right? You never wanted to try anything with me back then.”

You reluctantly nod your head, and your sister gasps fondly.

“Someone got into the liquor cabinet?” 

You nod with a laugh, knowing that you learned how to do it from her despite always being too chicken as a teenager to do it with her. The curiosity of being drunk didn’t outweigh the fear of being caught at all for you, at the time anyway. 

“Sunghoon is usually the one babysitting us, so no need to worry about pacing yourself.”  Heeseung comments along with his sneaky side eye at you. 

You don’t notice him do it at all, and even if you did you’d just assume it’s a passing glance. After all, you did open the fridge a little too hard.

“Sunghoon?” You ask. 

“One of my friends,” He raises his hand to his hair to try and shake out the now, obvious, speckle of batter that’s starting to dry in the strands. “By the way, when you go to bed tonight– make sure you lock your door.” He continues, turning around now and leaning against the counter just to watch you lift on your toes for some of the cups in the cabinet. 

His eyes watch the way you lift, your calf muscles flexing, your back arching slightly as you try to reach…And, well, he’s acting much like any man would, if he’s being honest, but ultimately he keeps his eyes to himself when your sister is turned or looking at him. 

“Noted.” You nod without paying much attention, pouring the drinks and now moving the filled glasses to the table.

You make brief eye contact with him, noting how he’s already looking at you while your sister is simply listening, facing the other way and mostly just focused on not burning the pancakes.

“I’m serious. Lock your door.” He repeats, scanning your body and judging just how dangerous it is for you to be living here. 

Mostly because he’s always found you quite cute, and he’s very aware that his friends probably will too. Hell, he’s already crossed a line with you since day one of you living here, he’s shocked you haven’t yet picked up on it, and knows very well that his friends will make moves instantly if you give them a chance. And with all things considered, you seem a bit too unaware of how attractive you are. 

“Hm?” You raise a brow as you make your way back to the kitchen. “I was going to, but now you’re making it sound important.”

“Well,” Your sister chimes in, stepping back once and holding out her hand. Heeseung is quick adjust his eyes, handing the fresh bowl of batter to her with a kiss to her cheek as if he wasn’t just eye fucking you. “All of them are single, and you’re just about as good looking as I am.” She laughs half-heartedly. 

She’s not trying to have an ego, but it’s best to warn you now at least. It’s not that she thinks she’s hot or anything, but she knows they think she is. And if that’s the case, they’re gonna be drooling over the younger, more single, version of herself. 

Heeseung rolls his eyes now though, leaning back against the counter and scanning you again the second your sister has her back turned. This time more blatantly. Eyes landing on the curve of your hips to the length of your legs. 

“Yeah.” He says, sucking in a breath with a half lidded gaze, letting his eyes trail down. “I’ll try to keep them at bay, though.” 

For Heeseung, there is nothing wrong with looking. For you? You feel very seen by him and it’s kind of throwing you for a loop. Your appearance becomes the main point of conversation and it makes you want to kind of leave the kitchen. 

“I doubt that’ll be an issue.” You try to laugh it off. 

“No, seriously.” Your sister says, turning to look at you briefly to give you a serious expression. “Back when I first met Heeseung, all four of them were after me. I swear, they’re more than just competitive with their games.” 

“I always win though.” Heeseung nods triumphantly, now keeping his eyes to himself and focusing more on his girlfriend.

“That, you do.” She boasts for him, leaning back after moving the pancakes to a plate and landing a kiss on his lips. 

You study how they move together. So in sync, not stepping on each other’s toes, ultimately moving in harmony. Likes it natural to them. She really does look happy, and he just looks like a guy who doesn’t know where to land his gaze. 

A normal guy, you think, who was given the same freedom your sister gives to you. It really is just who she is to take care of people, and the harsh judgment you originally had about Heeseung kind of fades a little bit as you watch them. 

You try not to study him too much though because damn, your sister knows how to pick them in terms of like, scale of attractiveness. Heeseung is the type of guy the two of you would giggle over at the mall. The type you’d silently bicker over from behind a store rack of jackets, or perhaps even fantasize about during a long and boring tv show with your parents. 

It’s not strange to find him attractive, because, well, he is. But you know your place here, and you’ve grown up to the point to know that you can appreciate a person’s looks and not need anything from them at the end of the day. 

However, you kind of hope his friends are at the same level as him. For one, to avoid having a secret crush on Heeseung, because who wouldn’t? And secondly, they’re single, just like you. 

Apparently they’re also a threat to the “innocence” both your sister and Heeseung seem to want to protect within you. 

“I’ll lock my door.” You say finally, receiving a happy nod from both of them as they continue their cooking and you make your way to the table. 

And while you do plan to lock your door, you also plan to take your time in getting dressed for the party. You kind of do want to be pounced at, or at least, feel the freedom of knowing you can look however you want without your parents forcing you into the ugliest outfit known to man. You know how to dress yourself, you’ve just never quite been allowed to do it. All those sneaky clothes your sister bought for you can finally come in handy. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

When your sister mentioned throwing you a welcome party, you expected a gathering of friends standing around awkwardly sipping wine coolers. What you didn’t expect was for there to be mood lighting, music, an array of nicely dressed people, and a large gaming set up in the living room where the big screen television was muted and a maximum of eight at a time could go head to head on super smash bros. 

You found yourself enjoying it more and more as the night went on and you became more comfortable being greeted by strangers. Each drink you were handed mostly came from your sister, but by the time she stopped making her own drinks and began to drink whatever the hell-mix her friends were giving to her, Heeseung was the one handing you drinks. 

“Come here–” Heeseung says over the blaring music, still floored by how good you look now versus how good you looked this morning. To him, the drinks he’s having paired with you running around looking like this? It’s even more dangerous than he thought as he continuously finds himself staring, and finds you seemingly still unaware of it. 

 “I’ll show you how to mix this one.”

Your sister was off somewhere in the house with her group of pretty friends, and you’ve really only briefly met everyone as they walked in the door. The drinks in your system make you want to actually mingle though. Everyone else is mingling, everyone else looks comfortable and happy to enjoy the party. It drives you to feel the same.

You nod to Heeseung with warmth in your cheeks, noting that he looks about as tipsy as you do when he stumbles his way back into the brightly lit kitchen with you. Your eyes burn at the light, as do his, and he groans at it before opening the fridge and pulling out the cranberry juice. 

“Your sister said you’ve probably only chugged from a bottle, so I opted to give you the easiest drink to make.” He explains in a slight slur, setting the juice on the counter and ultimately knocking it with his elbow when he turns to grab the vodka bottle. “Cranberry juice and vodka.”

You feel endeared by his genuine smile and embarrassed laugh at the way he knocked over the juice, watching him in his own element and comfort zone. It makes you feel a little guilty that he’s been the one making your drinks, only because your sister must have asked him to by the time she got too drunk. 

Heeseung seems to do just about everything she asks of him, and while you’re thankful, you feel a little bad that he’d probably rather be in the other room with his friends rather than trapped in this empty and terribly lit kitchen teaching you how to make a fucking mixed drink. 

“I put about–” He starts, grabbing your cup and pouring it half full with vodka. “this much into yours.”

In your own state, it’s not like you’d know what’s too much or what’s too little to put into a drink, but so far everything he’s handed to you tasted good. So, you nod at him, attempting to focus in on the cup.

“And this much juice.” He continues, now pouring not enough juice into the vodka.

From this angle, watching him from behind, you pause for a moment in your tipsy brain. Distracted by the way his shoulders flex when he’s grabbing that big ass bottle of juice, but you’re quick to tear your eyes away. He’s just a nice looking guy, dressed up for the first time since you moved in, you can’t fucking help it. Surely your sister would understand if she ever caught you checking him out, right?

“Then just stir it.” He adds now, turning to face you and dipping two fingers deep into the liquid of your cup, swirling them, then handing you the drink. 

He sucks the remaining mixture off of his fingers in a blatant show of his interest that you’re still far too aloof to pick up, watching you pretend he didn’t catch you staring. And with his fingers still in his mouth, he smirks around them, giving you a pleased expression when you take a sip from the cup. 

You glance up just for a second when you taste the same exact drink he’s been making you for the past forty five minutes and nod, trying not to focus on the way his tongue darts between his fingers twice before he pulls them out of his mouth. 

“Good?” He asks for confirmation, and when you smile and nod again, his eyes stare harder. 

Surely it’s just because you’re drunk, but you swear he’s giving you bedroom eyes, and paired with what he just did with his tongue….well. He looks at you similar to how he did this morning. And when you moved in. And back during that one Holiday party he attended at your childhood home. 

Definitely the alcohol. Like, he’s dating your sister. She’s the prettier one, the more successful one, the one with more personality. You’re just you. No way in hell is he really looking at you the same way he looks at her. It’s just your boosted confidence of finally being able to wear such a skimpy outfit. It’s just the liquid courage, that’s all. 

“You know–” He starts this time, leaning against the counter like he did this morning while helping your sister cook, trying to appear casual, cool, and perhaps attractive in this stance. “When I was beating Jay’s ass on smash bros earlier, he mentioned you.” 

You continue to sip your drink, feeling a buzzing in your chest and ears as you listen to him. Far more able now to have any conversation he could throw at you compared to any other day. Even with the thought in your head that he might be checking you out.

“Oh? Which one is Jay again?” You ask, leaning slightly to peek around the wall at the crowd of bodies just a room over. Interest peaking solely because the majority of people in this house right now are like, next level attractive. Maybe this Jay guy can take your thoughts off of your sister’s fucking boyfriend. 

“The one with the sunglasses on his head, wearing all black.” He starts, leaning close next to you and pointing just in front of your line of sight. “He’s a fucking loser, though.” 

You look at the guy, trying to remember the short greeting he gave to you. A nod of his head when he pushed those same sunglasses up and into his hair. He threw a very quick glance at you, to your face, chest, legs, then back to your face where he nodded again before making his way into the kitchen to make himself a drink.  You think, maybe, that Jay guy judged you positively upon meeting you. 

“He didn’t even tell me his name, no wonder I didn’t know which one he was.” You lend a drunken laugh as you check him out, sipping your drink again while listening to Heeseung laugh next to you. 

His laugh sounds closer, which makes sense considering he’s now leaning his weight on you with his elbow on your shoulder, resting his head there. 

“I thought he was that one–” You say, now pointing your own finger to the other guy you met briefly, the one with the longer hair, dyed blonde with hella untouched roots.. 

He had a nice smile when he greeted you, leaning in for a warm hug with a small “great to finally meet you.” His clothes drastically differed from Jay’s though. Far more casual and normal, loose jeans and a large hoodie just like what Heeseung seems to wear so often, except the colors were a bit brighter.

“Nah, that’s Jake.” Heeseung snorts, breathing in your scent as he leans into you as closely as he can, letting the stands of his hair poking out from his beanie tickle your neck. “Careful with that one, he’s a pervert.” 

You’re quick to admit interest in this one too, swatting Heeseung’s hair from your neck without thinking much about it. Which, arguably, doesn’t quite sit well with him.

Not only are you almost entirely ignoring him now, but it’s his fault for pointing out his friends to you again despite his attempts at making them appear unappealing to you. It seems that his girlfriend’s little sister is a bit too eager to look at guys, yet not eager enough to look at him.

“Oh yeah?” You look for a little too long at Jake, in Heeseung’s opinion, as he draws his finger over to the very sober Sunghoon. 

“You remember meeting him though, he made sure of it.” Heeseung rolls his eyes from beside you, leaning hard. “Also a pervert, just a little less obvious. I’d steer clear.” 

“Is Jay the only one that isn’t a pervert?” You ask off handedly in a shy chuckle, bobbing your head now to the music bumping against the walls. 

“God, did I not just tell you he mentioned you?” Heeseung shifts his weight to his other leg, skewing his head and looking straight down your shirt. “He asked if you were like your sister, the freak.”

He leans away from you at that point, noting that your drink is already near empty again and needing to refill it so that way he can push his own opinions into that empty little brain of yours. 

“What do you mean, like my sister?” You ask, watching him take the cup from you and place it right there in front of the same ingredients he just used to make the drink before. 

“Well,” He tilts his head back slightly when he turns to prepare the drink, eyes looking at you in a dark and somewhat scary way, still with a charming smile though. “Your big sis kind of got a little dirty on our first date. Guess Jay hopes you’re the same.”

Heeseung hopes you are too, but not for them. 

And, for you? It’s not like you’ve ever been given a chance to do such a thing. However, upon meeting and then re-meeting his friends from afar, all of them really are quite attractive. Maybe you could follow in your sister’s footsteps just to say that yes, you fuck on the first date too.

“I guess I am a bit like her.” You say offhandedly, looking away from Heeseung and tipping your head back around the corner to check the three men out again.

And when Heeseung turns to give you another full drink, he snaps his fingers. 

“Get back in here.” He says, and when you turn to face him again, his eyes land right back on your chest. 

“I’d advise against it.” He slurs at seeing your curious gaze land on one specific friend, stirring your drink with his fingers much like he did before. “Jay is a slut.”

“All of them are, actually.”

Unfortunately, Heeseung’s warnings go through one ear and out the other. He can see it, especially with the way you place that drink up to your lips and make your way into the living room, leaving him behind without so much as a “thank you”. 

And when you sit, directly between Jay and Jake, both of them turn their heads from the large TV screen, which allows Sunghoon to land some pretty major blows on them until he, himself, turns his head to witness two drunk idiots and a pretty girl between them. 

“Heeseung said you asked about me.” You state boldly, leaning into the wrong person to say it. 

“Well, he’s a liar.” Jake bellows out, studying how drunk you are and glancing up at Jay with a snide grin. Raising his brows and gripping his controller. 

“That would be me who asked.” Jay pipes in, and it’s the first time you’ve heard his voice directly address you, but man, alcohol is fun. It makes you feel even more bold when you turn to look at him with a face that you assume shows interest.

“Why didn’t you just ask me yourself?” You ask, ignoring that you fumbled the greeting.

“You weren’t drunk enough,” Jay laughs, ignoring the screen as it gives Sunghoon his win. “I see now though,” He looks you up and down, slouching back against the couch and stretching his arm wide around the back of it, and you.” You’re definitely drunk.”

You nod happily, eyes turning to Jake, who is still just checking you out. 

“Sure am.” You laugh, hopping up in one motion and turning to face them. “Heeseung also told me that you’re all fucking perverts, so.”

Jay and Jake both lend a “what the fuck, bro?” face at Heeseung, who was slouched against the wall, yet again, watching how you interact with his friends.  He simply shrugs at them with a malicious smile into his drink. After all, he’s the one on top of the world right now. Not only does he have a hot as fuck girlfriend who lets him live and do as he pleases, but now he’s got a younger version of her running around, acting like she knows how to whore herself out.

He can tell you’re just like her in that regard. Ready, willing, wanting to experience everything all at once if the world throws it at you. From the way you sat between his friends to the way you snitched on him with a pretty smile on your face. Oh man, the guys probably love you already.

“So, what?” Jay rolls his eyes as Jake watches you stand on wobbling legs. “You don’t like to get laid?”

You bellow out a laugh that nearly throws you off balance, but Jake is very quick to lunge forward and grab your arm to steady you, forcing you to spill your drink all over yourself and him. 

“Sure I do,” You ignore the blatant show of your mindstate and instead, remember how you’ve actually had plenty of sex during whatever time you could fit, in whatever place was hidden enough that didn’t involve your own home. “Why, you trying to get some?”

Jay smirks at you as Jake holds your half-spilled drink, listening to you flirt and smiling much the same way. 

“Maybe.” Jay shrugs, side eyeing both of his friends. “You gonna give it up?” He adds, now blatantly checking you out from head to toe, liking very much what he’s seeing. 

“Nope.” Heeseung suddenly cuts in, staring his three friends in the face as he grabs your drink from Jake and hands it back to you before wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pretending to be the knight in shining armor your sister wants him to be. 

You look back at the three men as Heeseung leads you away, then you note that Sunghoon shrugs at you.

“What the hell?” You ask, slightly annoyed with Heeseung and the lights of the kitchen blinding you once again. “I was busy.”

“Busy doing what? Teasing my friends?” Heeseung shakes his head as he turns away from you, placing your cup down and opening the bottles back up. “You’re playing a dangerous game, babe, I’d stop if I were you.” 

“And? Maybe I like it.” You roll your eyes, ignoring how the alcohol radiates behind your eyes and lends two Heeseungs to pretend you’re not attracted to. At least with his friends, you can be more open about it. 

Heeseung stops making your drink and turns to look at you and the way your eyes struggle to adjust. He’s entirely floored by that statement. The fact that you’ve kept to yourself for the most part since you’ve moved in, and now you’re all cute and drunk in front of him revealing just how much of a whore you might be if you were given the chance? Damn. 

“Your sister would kill you.” He says, turning back to your drink and knowing that your sister probably wouldn’t actually give a shit if you fuck his friends. He does though. 

“I mean, I guess I won’t stop you.” He lies, now turning back to make your drink the exact same way and giving it to you despite knowing he shouldn’t be giving you more. 

“Can honestly say you’re a bit too pretty for them, though.” He adds in a snide compliment, wanting so badly to flirt but doing his best to appear like it’s totally normal for him to say these things. 

And as he notes your stare at him, processing the words, he takes this moment to grab a towel from the sink to dab away at the drink that you previously spilled all over yourself. 

You look at him, watching him dab the towel against your arm. He seems focused on doing it, pretty face and clear skin shining in these morgue lights in the kitchen compared to everywhere else in the house. And then, you note how when he looks up, his eyes stop momentarily at the amount of cleavage you’re revealing for this occasion. Hah, he probably thinks his messy strands of hair hid his eyes from you, but you saw it. 

“Oh, I get it.” You take in a deep inhale, reaching to pull his beanie over his eyes and letting out a bold laugh because really, you’re pretty drunk by this point. “You’re a pervert too.”

Heeseung shrugs, lifting the beanie back up and standing much taller in front of you. He skews his head down, looking right past your face and down your shirt this time. Proud of seeing the curve of them and the space between that could probably stimulate any cock you squeeze there.

“Maybe, yeah.” He smirks, taking a slight step closer and letting both arms trap you against the counter, hovering above you with an intimidating stance. “Maybe even more than they are.” He adds, already preparing himself to press his hips up and against you, uncaring of how it would look if he were to be found like this with you. 

Unfortunately, he’s forced to care because there’s a happy pair of footsteps making their way to the kitchen, and he really should not have been about to do that in the first place. He stumbles back at the sound, smiling at you with a quick, tipsy wink. 

It leaves you a little dizzy as you stare at him with a weird kind of aroused feeling in your gut. Surely that’s the alcohol too, it has to be. You’re very quick to shrug off the small intimate moment as you hear your sister’s loud and booming voice calling out his name.

You watch as she envelopes him in a fraction of a second, lifting on her unbalanced feet to immediately start making out with him. 

You’re not sure why you stand there and watch for a second, a little zoned out before Heeseung opens his eyes briefly and looks at you throughout the bruising kiss he’s currently an active participant of. 

There’s that same look again, only this time he’s doing it while licking into your sister’s mouth. You’re so fucking confused right now. All the signals have to be your imagination, right?

You snap out of the daze then, whispering a small “ill just go somewhere else.” before leaving the kitchen and finding yourself at the table just outside of it. 

You try to keep your eyes to yourself at this point regarding Heeseung, feeling all of the buzz and heat in your gut at the idea of being allowed to be openly sexually attracted to just about any man you lay eyes on. He’s nothing special, just a handsome guy. His friends are just as attractive, right?

And as you trail your eyes around the room trying to find someone to go mingle with, you are instead surrounded by your sister’s friends. Still, when you glance to the living room, every single time, either Jake, Jay, or that other guy is watching you with eyes that you’ve read before from other men.

Arguably, the same eyes Heeseung gave you just a few minutes before. At least with them, you know you’re not reading those bedroom eyes wrong.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Give me a week.” Jake says, elbowing Jay in the side and taking a hefty sip of his terribly mixed drink as his eyes drift to the new girl surrounded by other hot girls. “I'll be in her bed before the week is up..” 

Jay rolls his eyes, standing from the couch and stretching out his own tipsy limbs as he walks to Sunghoon and sits on that couch instead. 

“Three days for me then.” He says, giving Jake a too-confident face. “I could go over there right the fuck now and have her on her knees, probably.” He says as he looks at you, fitting in so well with the group of girls. Possibly being the hottest one too. “Maybe.”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes at his slurring best friends, clearly drunker than they realize. 

“You both take the wrong approach.” He says, stiffening his shoulders before slouching entirely against the couch, considering ditching the baby-sitting job and having a drink as well. “You think they’d just let you fuck her? I’ll get her to go on a date with me first. Get her legs open in my car after.”

“Quite frankly, Sunghoon, I don’t really give a shit if they’d let me. I’m going to get some of that.” Jay responds.

All three of them are staring at you, thankfully, you don’t seem to notice as you fall into a conversation with that same group of girls, plus your sister now. And just as Jake was about to add more to the conversation, Heeseung makes his way in. 

“Don’t–” Heeseung slurs as he flops beside Jake, letting his heavy limbs hurt his friend. “–even think about it, Jakey boy.” He says, knowing for a fact what all three of his whore friends are thinking. They’ve been staring and glancing at you all night.

Jake avoids eye contact, because he’s definitely thinking about it. 

“No worries.” Jay shrugs. “We’re just looking, that’s all.”

Somehow, someway, all three of Heeseung’s friends pick up on what Jay is putting down. Ah, a deal of leaving him out, they suppose. 

After all, Heeseung already managed to bag your sister. They know he’d keep her little sister off limits to them too. Out of respect or some shit, probably. Bro code, all of that. 

“Keep it that way.” He hums, shoving Jake and laughing. “She’s too hot for you guys anyway, just like her sister.”

There’s a shared look between the three as Sunghoon lunges for Jay’s drink and takes a sip of it. 

“Heeseung, we’re crashing here tonight.” He bellows out through tangy lips. 

And, well, Heeseung didn’t argue because he knows he’s not in a state to really give a shit at this point. The only thing he needs to be focused on right now is willing his cock to soften up a bit before he does something drastic about it.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Heeseung thinks hard as he looks at himself in the mirror. He’s seeing two of himself which is kind of funny in one aspect, but also terrifying because he didn’t intend to drink this much.

Why is he so upset to see his friends go for you? You’ve been here a week and he’s already feeling so jealous? Really? Then again, he knew from the moment your sister told him you were moving you that it was going to be either very interesting or incredibly difficult. 

Mostly because he’s stolen glances at you for years. Wondering when you’d ever come to visit, always looking so pretty and happy during those brief holiday gatherings. Oh yes, he’s had his eye on you for a fucking while. And now? You’re living here? And coming onto his friends right after he warned you not to? 

For the past hour as he sipped and watched you roam the house, back and forth between the girls, your sister, and his boys, he couldn’t help but scoff at you for it. You haven’t spoken to him since the kitchen incident. A little bit of a blatant moment on his part, he admits, he even surprised himself with that.

Still, this protective feeling doesn’t come from being your future brother in law. Absolutely not. It stems entirely from the twitch in his pants he’s gotten nearly every single moment he’s gotten to take a long look at you. 

It was manageable before, where he’d see you maybe once or twice a year. But now? It’s every single day, and it pisses him off that you’re not mingling with him during this party. 

He stares at himself, bobbing his head to the music in the mirror before leaning forward against the counter and inching closer and closer to his own face.Finally, he can focus in and see only one of himself looking back in the mirror. 

All he sees is a man who has managed to bag himself the perfect woman. One willing to coddle him and take care of him like a mother would, one willing to let him float through life unemployed for the time being, one that doesn’t entirely let him fuck the way he wants to solely because she’s far too confident in herself to let him pull such a thing with her. 

Heeseung tilts his head at himself as he examines his face in the mirror, knocking his beanie off and running his fingers through his hair. Leaning back and once again to relish in his own doubled vision.

What he really sees looking back at him in that mirror is a man who bagged himself an almost perfect woman who appears to have a truly perfect sister. It’s the fact that suddenly, he can admit that he is bored in the bedroom, and a man who is far too eager to ignore that if he got the chance, he would be just like his friends regarding you.

He would be getting your number and asking to see what those tits look like under that skimpy shirt you’re wearing tonight. You’d probably show them too, considering the fact that you lived your entire life up until this point barred by church sermons and non-existent doors that offer no privacy to so much as finger yourself. You’re probably dying to experience all of the things you were already supposed to be well acquainted with at your age. 

And as he thinks about it, head spinning in thoughts of what he’s already done just moments after you officially moved in, he slips his hand down. Groping himself through his jeans and staring down at the bulge that sits just above the counter. 

He hangs his head, smirking and shivering at the small touch he lends to his own length. It’s the fact that he just got hard over the confirmation of being sexually unsatisfied in his own bedroom. The shamed truth that he stood here thinking a little too hard about what kind of nudes you’d send if he ever chose to ask for them, it’s not something he’s ashamed of either. 

In fact, the thought of sneaking out of the bed while your sister sleeps just to slip into your room and cover your pretty little mouth in his cum? That’s more arousing than knowing he could just leave the bathroom right now and fuck your sister. 

And he stands there for a few minutes testing that theory, running his fingers along the swollen inseam of his pants in a careful way, like his girlfriend does. He twitches once at the feeling, glancing up at himself in the mirror again, trying hard to imagine her in this bathroom with him. 

Another twitch, weaker this time. He laughs at himself quietly in defeat before breathing in a deep inhale through his nose, allowing the muffled music just outside of the door to fade off through his hot ears and aroused mind. 

He closes his eyes briefly when he grabs himself now. Rougher, harsher, messier. Trying to mimic the hand of a woman who probably hasn’t done this too much, trying to mimic what he thinks you’d do. His hips shift forward almost immediately and without intention, chasing the feeling of inexperience. Chasing the thought of someone that isn’t his girlfriend. He chuckles more now, confirming his theory.

Chasing it with his eyes closed up until he does open his eyes and sees himself looking so out of it for you. Knowing that you’re just ten feet away if he were to walk out of this bathroom right now, so drunk and cute, you probably wouldn’t think twice about giving it to him. Knowing that if he really wanted to, he could take you the way he’s always wanted your sister and you'd probably love every second of it. 

He’d fuck you better. You’d be tighter, wetter, and louder for him than she ever has been.

And just as he goes to slide his hand down the front of his pants, intending to fuck his own fist to the thought of you tonight rather than turning that lock behind his own door to get between your sister’s legs, there’s a loud knock on the door. He jumps at the sound, adjusting his pants right back to where they belong before whipping around a bit too quickly and sending a bottle of perfume clattering to the floor in a loud POP sound.

“Shit-” He groans, smelling the intense aroma of what your sister wears, forcing his mind back to the reality of not being allowed to fuck you. 

He tiptoes around the broken glass, nostrils burning at the strong scent before swinging the door open with an annoyed roll of his eyes. 

“Heeeeeeeeseungie!” Your sister sings, fumbling over and leaning on him instantly with her arms circling his shoulders. She’s so gone that she doesn’t even notice the scent of her favorite perfume that just got destroyed. 

“Hey honey,” Heeseung says calmly, appearing far more sober despite being a bit buckled at the knees. “Need help?”

She nods against his chest, unaware of his softening cock that wasn’t at all raging for her just moments before.

“There’s glass all over the floor right now, let’s go use your sister’s bathroom.” 

The length in his pants shrank nearly instantly upon feeling her cling to him like this, with that cute, high pitched, voice she tends to use when she’s needy. He tries not to think about that though. Coming to terms with the fact that what used to get him off is currently turning him off? That’s too much of a dangerous thought right now. 

“Mhm,” Your sister hums as he guides her to your closed bedroom door.  “Wait!” Your sister panics, coming to her drunk senses for just long enough to blurt “She came in here with Sunghoon earlier, we should knock.”

Heeseung stiffens for a moment, pausing his step just outside your bedroom door. The weight of his own girlfriend against him should be something he loves right now, but he just finds himself wishing she’d get the fuck off of him. 

The fact he’s somehow more pissed about you behind this door, probably giving it to Sunghoon, than he is in love with his girlfriend right now? Telling. He knocks once before immediately turning your door knob. Locked.

“Hey, your sister needs to use the bathroom.” Heeseung shouts right up against the crack of the door, wiggling the knob. “Open up!”

“Use the other bathroom!” You shout back in a muffled and far away sounding voice. 

Heeseung stands there, pretending he doesn’t notice the sound of shuffling on the other side when the song booming through the speakers changes for a split second. 

“Can’t use the other bathroom! There’s glass on the floor!” 

Silence from the other side of the door for a brief moment then, click! You crack it open, cheeks flushed and eyes struggling to focus on him. Heeseung immediately pushes the door open to reveal not only Sunghoon, but Jake and Jay all three lounging around your room.

Still fully clothed, at least, but he can tell at least one of them appears to be struggling to hide his hard on. (Jake.)

Heeseung narrows his eyes at all three of the men. Jake sitting stiffly on the floor at the end of your bed, hands over his lap. Jay, lounging on your bed, as if he’s been on it a thousand times with a half-boner on full display. And then Sunghoon, clearly feeling some type of buzz as he’s the only one still drinking, leaning right up against the dresser that Heeseung built himself.

“Ooh,” Your sister hums, wiggling her finger at you.”Scandalous.” 

You lend her a shy smile as you take a step back, willing them sooner rather than later to leave solely because you were busy in here.

Not like, fucking or anything. Just having a nice, innocent, conversation with three hot guys. That’s all. Plus, you’d never have been able to handle sitting alone in a room with these three if it weren’t for the alcohol in your system anyway. Especially with the way you initially only invited Sunghoon into your room to show him how you had the same style of socks he was wearing. Jake immediately followed both of you, followed by Jay, who was the one who closed the door and locked it. 

And you pay no mind to Heeseung and your sister walking to your bathroom on unbalanced steps, you find yourself flopping back on the bed right beside Jay instead.

None of them have done anything at all to make you feel awkward or like this situation is dangerous either. In fact, the only thing you guys have talked about are the mutual interests that you share. 

Poor you, so aloof when drunk. Unable to comprehend the fact that every single one of the guys in your room right now have made attempts to steer the conversation in their own way to things not so innocent. 

You do try to ignore what happened in the kitchen with Heeseung though, avoiding eye contact with him as he makes his way back out of your room after helping with your sister. You think he’s glaring, maybe, but oh well.

“Anyway, back at home my dad would have never let me wear band shirts.”

“That’s tough.” Jay comments, side eyeing your chest in that top and low-key wondering how nice your tits would look braless, under one of his band shirts. “Bet he didn’t know he raised not one, but two sneaky daughters.”

You smile triumphantly, ignoring the shadow of your sister that they force you into. 

“They made it really hard to break rules. Now though? I get to wear stuff like this and hang out with guys like you.” 

“Yeah,” Jake trails off, turning his body to peek at you from the end of the bed. “Probably not the smartest move on your part.”

You bring your attention to him, seeing a blur of charming eyes and messy hair. 

“What do you mean?”

“What he means is that, it’s probably not ideal to get shit faced then lock yourself in a room with three horny guys.” Sunghoon asserts, pushing off of the dresser and now setting himself on the foot of your bed. “You can’t tell?” 

You, for some reason, are astonished at his words. Sunghoon, compared to the other two, seemed more quiet and reserved if you’re being honest. Then again, you’ve only known these guys for a few hours by this point. What you do know about Sunghoon, is that he’s horrifyingly attractive in the way he carries himself, which you can’t really say the same for Jake or Jay. 

With his perfected dark hair and tall stance. he looms around with each expression on his face leaving little to the imagination in the way his eyebrows accentuate whatever thought flows behind his eyes. Somehow, he’s still the hardest to read, as you watch him assert his own form of dominance on your bed. 

You’re blissfully unaware of how tame Sunghoon was actually being at this moment though. All three of them, they’re competing to see who fucks you first, and whoever wins? Ah, not only do they get a paid night at the bar out of it, but both losers have to fork over another sum of money equal to that of two seasons worth of battle passes to whatever game the winner may choose to play. 

“I think this is a good time to hand you my phone, give me your number.” Jay cuts in quite quickly, ignoring the way Sunghoon invites himself into the space he created with you. 

Jay doesn’t even let you process his words as he tosses his phone to the side and at you, watching it land on your stomach before sliding off to the other side of you. 

“Ah, you’re cute.” He chuckles upon noting your terrible coordination skills of grabbing said phone. 

“Well, I’m drunk, so.” You dead-pan, freezing when you feel him lean over you to grab the phone himself, staying there and hovering over you with it in his hand.

You let out a small gasp when you meet his eyes, staring straight through you. 

Sunghoon rolls his eyes at Jay’s blatant show of interest, and Jake simply watches. Studies how you react to the forwardness.

“Go on.” Jay encourages you, holding the phone directly in front of you, where your eyes are still glued to his confident face, as if he’s not practically caging you in on your own bed like this. “Type it in.”

You do. Somehow managing to type your number perfectly on the screen placed in front of you, and he’s quick to turn the phone to himself, flicking his eyes back and forth between you and the screen as he presses the call button.

Your phone vibrates from the dresser and Jay gives a victorious and somewhat dark smile. 

“One for me, zero for the idiots.” He laughs, lending you one more glance, a squeeze of his palm against your waist, and then he’s moving off of you and your bed as a whole. “Call me when you kick them out, I’ll sleep in here tonight.” He adds, leaving no room for argument before leaving the room entirely.

That leaves Sunghoon and Jake, sitting there trying to pretend it wasn’t expected of Jay to at least get your number first. He always starts strong, then again, he also always fumbles hard when things get gritty. In game and out of game. 

“What a prick.” Sunghoon sighs, flopping back on the end of your bed and forcing you to shift your legs up and press them together to make room for his broad body.

He turns his face to look at you from down here, watching you spread your legs to look back at him. The motion is innocent at best, because you seem to trust that he’s not trying to be a pervert right now. Oh, but he is. 

He looks at you from this angle hard, realizing how easy it could be to shift just a foot in the right direction to have his face right where you’d probably like it. 

And you note the way he’s looking at you.

“Do you guys like…” You glance away from him, over to Jake who is now making his own way onto the bed where Jay was lying before. You shift for a moment, feeling like prey. “Do you guys always share a girlfriend?”

Jake snorts. 

“Share?!” He laughs at your question more before settling back against your pillows and landing his hand on your thigh. Easy, simple, and obvious. “We don’t share anything.” He explains now, feeling the fabric of your bottoms and pushing your legs closed so that Sunghoon can’t lay down there and think up all sorts of fantasies. 

“You’re gonna have to pick.” Sunghoon says in an annoyed tone, glaring at Jake for closing your legs.

He lifts up on his arms now, raising a brow. 

“I’ll give you some advice though.” He says, noting how you listen to him more than you do Jake. “Jay has the stamina of a dead horse.”

Snorting only for a moment, you think hard about Jay. Noting his cool and collected demeanor. Uncaring, somewhat cold, but his face seemed warm and endearing when he looked at you from time to time. You could sense the confidence in him from the moment he looked at you when he walked into this house. Instant attraction, without even knowing his name, is what you felt. With that sleek hair style and pretty hands gripping a full bottle of tequila. He probably has more stamina than Sunghoon gives him credit for.

“And Jake.” Sunghoon laughs this time, pointing directly at the guy lying next to you. “Two strokes and he’s out of the game.”

You laugh again looking over to Jake, who stares at Sunghoon with a dark glare. 

“What the fuck dude? That was one time!” He defends himself, babbling about how it was the first time he ever had sex, and how he can go way longer now. 

“Me, on the other hand.” Sunghoon perks up as he runs his hands through his hair before smiling at you. “I just want to take you on a date.”

Ding ding ding! We have a winner. 

“Really?” You ask, floored over possibly landing your first date in years that your parents wouldn’t be attending.

“Of course.” He nods politely, ignoring that Jake is even in the room now. ��I’m not the kind of guy who is just trying to get between your legs.” He lies easily, glaring at Jake again for closing your legs earlier.

“So, what do you say?” Sunghoon encourages you to pick him at this moment, and the nod you give has him pulling his own phone out, asking you to tell him your number rather than forcing you to type it into his phone. 

You smile as you give him the numbers, not at all seeing Jake try to sneakily type it into his phone as well. 

“Good.” Sunghoon says, flopping back on your bed and now using his own hand to part your legs again. You look at him from above and feel elated by how petty and clean cut he is. “Don’t call Jay when I leave, then.”

You hum a confirmation, stretching out your arms and feeling confident as all hell at the way tonight has gone. Up until, well, Sunghoon makes his way out of the room and tries to drag Jake with him. Only because he knows Jake is awful at talking to girls but man, do they swoon if they’re into desperate guys. You seem to be into just about anyone, if Sunghoon is honest with himself. 

“Come on, dickhead.” Sunghoon gripes at Jake, grabbing his hoodie and physically trying to drag him out of the room. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” Jake says, pressing all of his body weight against your mattress and kicking Sunghoon away from him. “Play fair or I’ll tell her about last weekend.”

Sunghoon instantly avoids eye contact with him, knowing that if Jake were to spill the beans on how he forgot to leave the server during his uh…session, a date would be out of the question not only for now, but for good.

“You’re the fucking worst.” He grimaces before releasing Jake’s hoodie and stepping out of the room, only half wondering if he should truly let Jake shoot his shot as well.

Ultimately, Sunghoon finds himself stepping out of the door and directly into Jay. 

“Well played.” Jay comments. “Guess I’ll just have to prove to her that you’re full of shit, won’t I?” 

Sunghoon smiles a wicked grin, eyes narrowing at Jay. 

“You won’t even get the chance.” He says, looking past Jay and down the hallway at Heeseung, who is shooting a death-glare at them. “Oh, check it.” He changes the subject by shoving Jay in the side to look at their friend. “He’s mad.”

Jay turns to look at whatever it is Sunghoon is talking about and simply laughs. 

“He can tell something is up. Maybe we should tell him?” Jay asks, crossing his arms in interest. 

“Eventually.” Sunghoon laughs as he pushes past Jay and makes his way to the kitchen for another drink.

Jake, on the other hand, is fucking vibrating as he sits alone in this room with you, dodging the questions about what Sunghoon did last weekend to cause such a reaction with an entirely made up sob story. 

“Oh my god?” You coo out, turning to face him entirely. “That’s so sad!”

Jake mumbles, nodding his head as if he pities himself with a pout on his face. 

“Yeah, I guess that’s just how things go for me though.” He shrugs, blinking at you with the biggest and softest eyes he can manage. 

“I can’t believe she did that!” You bellow out now, entirely invested in the backstory of the love life he lost just a few months prior. “With her own cousin, too?!”

Jake nods again with that same pout, looking as defeated as he can, trying to be as charming as he possibly can.

You lean forward to give him a some form of hug at this moment, drunken emotion overtaking you as you sit and watch this poor guy pour his little broken heart out. 

“If it makes you feel any better, my last boyfriend broke up with me because my dad threatened him.”

“No, that’s awful.” He chuckles sadly, shaking his head at you. “We’re both just unlucky, huh?”

He nods his head, seemingly to get you to shadow his actions, and as expected, you do. You nod to confirm his words, still invested in the fact that such a nice looking guy got fucked over like that, only to be made fun of by his friends for it. 

So invested that you don’t note the way he keeps his hand on your leg or moves it upwards inch by inch. 

“Can we change the subject?” Jake pouts harder, looking at you with sparkling eyes.. 

“Yeah, of course–” 

“You’re really, really, pretty.” He suddenly blurts, looking you in the eye and using his other hand to brush a strand of hair out of your face. You totally believed his entire story, if the saddened look in your eye is anything to go by. “I think you should go on a date with me instead.”

You break eye contact, looking down again and only just now noticing his hand on your leg. Only just now noticing that hard-on he’s sporting in his pants. 

“Jake.” You say, lifting your eyes back to him. “Are you–hard?” You lift your brows in pity again with the subject change, drunken brain telling you that he’s probably crawling in his skin over how hard he is, and how sad everything is for him. 

“Oh, over this?” He asks, dropping his hand and blatantly groping himself. “A little. It always happens when someone as good looking as you gives me the time of day.”

Oh, how sweet. How cute. The fact that Jake gets hard simply over someone being nice to him? 

“Well, don’t worry!” You try to perk him up, not at all realizing that he’s full of shit. “I know it’s not because you’re trying to get into my pants or anything. I won’t tell anyone.” You nod to him with a smile before– Uh oh.

“Well, actually–” Jake tries to start, already about to make his move when he notices the color on your face change and you’re fumbling to the bathroom. 

And just like that, Jake has failed, as he stumbles out of your bed and to your locked bathroom door. 

“Are you okay?” He asks with a sweet and caring voice.

Silence from the other end save for the sound of your sink running full blast probably to mask the sounds of your stomach trying to evacuate the copious amounts of alcohol that’s been fed to you. 

So much for the pancakes being a fix-all solution. And with that, Jake leaves the room while pulling out his phone, texting the number he stole when you gave it to Sunghoon. 

Jake: hey, don’t be embarrassed about getting sick. I’m gonna crash on the couch so if you need me i’ll be there.

After that, the party is pretty much over. Everyone save for the three perverts, Heeseung, and your sister remain.

This leaves your sister already passed out and tucked into her bed by none other than Heeseung himself, Jay already asleep on the couch, Sunghoon piled up on the floor between the dining room and the living room. Probably to create a barrier that would wake him if Jay really tried to get into your room.

And poor fucking Jake, forced to actually pity himself as he curls his body up on the love seat in the living room, pretending that it’s totally big enough for him to be comfortable here.

Heeseung looms around the house once everything goes silent, checking to be sure no one has passed out or died in a corner before coming back to the living room and staring at all three of his bitch-ass friends. 

On one hand, he’s glad they’re in the living room and not in your room. On the other hand, he wants to smother all three of them. One by one.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Heeseung is in his head for a solid three days after the party. So much that his focus is more on you than his games. Which is super fucked up when he thinks about it. That’s why, when your sister heads off to work, he’s plotting in his head every time. He needs you to like him somehow. 

The thoughts loop in his mind. From images of him pinning you up and against that kitchen counter again, to the fantasy image of you dropping to your knees in front of him. If anything, it’s not that he needs to fuck you, he just needs you to want him to.

And this is why he finds himself orbiting you. Finding reasons to come into your room, or reasons to get you out of it. 

“I’m gonna do some laundry, do you have anything I need to wash?” When you didn’t have anything more than what was already in your basket, he still washed your clothes. He also folded one of his own shirts into your pile just to see if you’d wear it. 

“I made some lunch, come eat with me.”  You already ate while he was in the office playing his games, which he should have guessed. 

“Hey, can you help me wash the dishes?” You had nodded, but never left your room and he ultimately ended up washing and drying them all himself. Waiting, waiting, and fucking waiting.

All three times he tried today, you brushed him off with your eyes glued to your phone. 

Something has got to give because it’s starting to get embarrassing how much he thinks about you. With the way he avoided sex last night with his own, very beautiful girlfriend, just to hide in the bathroom at four in the morning getting off with something he absolutely should not have in his possession. 

He doesn’t know how fucking long it’s gonna take to get you to break for him but it’s going to happen one way or the other. You don’t have a choice in the matter at this point .

It looks like you won’t even consider him in that pretty little head of yours simply because he’s considered off limits. He’s gonna have to prove you wrong.

Still, he remembers the way you looked at him during your welcome party. So cute and sweet when you’re drunk, so willing to hang out with him. The interest was there. He knows it was.

And now, as he ticks away at the WASD keys on his keyboard, running his little pixel version of himself back and forth between headshots that he misses every time, he wants to rip his fucking hair out. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Jay shouts through the headset. “He was right there!”

Heeseung knows his friends have every reason to rag on him right now. It’s the fifth lost ranked game of the day and he’s rotting inside at the thought of dropping back down to gold. 

“Platinum my ass.” Sunghoon pipes in, slamming his mouse on his desk out of sheer annoyance at what happened during the last game. “You didn’t down a single person in the past three games.”

Heeseung sighs, ripping his headset off and closing out the game. He can feel it in his body. The frustration bubbling up to the point that he really only thinks about you and this shit needs to stop now before his precious rank drops so far down that even their bronze boy Jake could boast above him. 

He ignores the annoyed shouts from his friends as he disconnects from discord, stands up, and practically storms out of the room and up to your door. 

“I’m coming in!” Heeseung gripes.

This is your first time witnessing him in a bad mood, as he does exactly as he says and swings your door open for the fourth time today. 

“You and me.” He says, pointing a finger at you “Right now.”

“Right now, what?” You ask in a nonchalant tone.

Which only pisses him off more because, fuck if he knows. 

“Get off your phone. We’re hanging out.”

You furrow your brow at him, pointer finger locking the screen of your phone and hiding the string of texts you’d been sharing with one of his very own best friends. Your eyes scan him only for a moment, noting how rushed he appears to be while barging into your room like this.

Large hoodie covering the majority of his body, sweat on his brow probably from all of that screaming you heard in the office earlier, and that same very embarrassing dent on the top of his head from his headset. 

As you look at him in all of his gamer boy glory you nod, only because out of all of his friends, you think you’d rather hang out with him because at least he’s not in your texts trying to land a date, or a hookup, or dropping dick pics by “accident”. 

He’s just Heeseung, your sister’s loving and very hard to read boyfriend. Who you don’t happen to fully remember is capable of pinning you against the kitchen counter while trying to show you how much worse he is compared to his friends. 

“Okay, what do you wanna do?”

He pauses, standing in your room and looking at you lounging on your bed. If he really told you what he’d like to do, it would probably scare you. He needs to think fast, not desperate. 

“Uh,” He hums, glancing away from you and lifting his hand up to finally ruffle that embarrassing dent in his hair away. “Have you ever played video games?”

“Yeah. Not the ones you play though.” You roll your eyes at his attempt at sudden small talk.

God, he shouldn’t have asked. He doesn’t think you could make yourself any more alluring to him after saying that. While his girlfriend has never once even considered picking up a controller, you have? Oh, shit. Man, that’s so hot. 

“Oh yeah?” He perks up in genuine interest, taking a step forward and landing himself on your bed without invitation. “Like what?”

“Party games mostly, I guess. Mario Party, Super Smash Bros, Wii sports, Among us.” 

He nods as you list the most mundane games in the industry. 

“Did you pick up pretty quickly? Like, did you ever win?” He asks, unaware that this conversation feels like literal foreplay to him, pleased by the fact that there’s suddenly more to like about you than just those tits and face….and personality….and intense need to break rules…and–

“Yeah, I can be kind of competitive.”

“Mm.” Heeseung nods in approval, turned on by the very image of you staring into a screen with dead eyes, fingers smashing on buttons and intensely focused. 

“Do you wanna watch me play something?”

“How is that hanging out?” You ask, scoffing at the idea. “Why would I want to watch you have fun?”

Heeseung looks at you. Yeah, that’s fair. He would probably end up ignoring you the whole time anyway, but still. Is it so bad that he asked simply to fulfill the fantasy of having a girl fawn over him and his successes? 

“Okay, then what would you want to do?” He shoots back, knowing it’s fair but hating it nonetheless. Wondering if there’s a chance that someday you’ll pile up on his lap and watch him carry the whole team to victory. Boasting for him more than he does for himself. 

“Horror movie. I’m sure she’s told you but our parents were very strict about what media we consumed. I have a whole list of horror movies I’m trying to work through, but sometimes it’s kind of difficult to watch by myself.”

Fuck yeah. Maybe it’ll end in that cringe and cliche scenario he’s used time and time again when flirting with girls. Images of you jumping from a jumpscare and grabbing him on instinct. Fantasies of you cuddling up real close. So close that he can smell how much you want him. He could get hard right now just thinking of doing this very thing with you. Plus, he fucking loves horror movies.

“Get your pretty ass in the living room then. ” He nods, smiling at you in a way that hides every thought behind his empty, horny eyes. 

And he just gets up and walks out like calling you pretty just now wasn’t at all out of place, he fucking winks at you. It really does throw you off that he just did that so nonchalantly, like he talks to everyone that way when you know for a fact that outside of this house, your sister has to fight him just to get him to wave hello to someone. 

You wonder why it feels like maybe you shouldn’t be spending time alone with him. Arguably, you don’t want to admit that it makes you feel good either. Already with three separate, very attractive people, in your texts insisting that you pick them, that you choose them. 

All of it is very desperate. Almost as desperate as you are to give in to every single one of them, but you can’t just let them know how sheltered you were and how free you feel the need to be now. 

Of course Heeseung, your sister’s boyfriend, calling you pretty would make you feel confident. Like maybe you could be with someone just as attractive as him, or perhaps no longer live in the shadow of everything you wish you could be. 

Her. Everything was always about her. 

“Oh, your sister got top of her class! She’s gonna be moving out soon!” She really just left you there to suffer alone. 

“Ah! Your sister just bought a house! I heard she and her boyfriend might marry soon!” 

You scoffed that day when you entered college, no one congratulated you for the countless free rides or multiple acceptance letters. No, it was all about her despite the fact that she lived an hour and a half away and you were right there.

She was only better than and outshined you because she was older and got there first. It was never competitive with you until everyone in your life expected you to outshine, outdo, and outwit her. 

Still, you jumped at the opportunity to live here solely to get away from your parents. Solely to try and live outside of everything you could be, only to become whatever the fuck you want to be. And yeah, you love her immensely because she truly is the only person who never expected you to be her. There’s so much resentment but an equal amount of love within you for your sister. 

And while Heeseung has no idea of this resentment you have rotting in your chest, you also have no idea that Heeseung believes the one thing you hold over your sister is the fact that you’re just her, except, well…younger, hotter, wilder, prettier, more inexperienced. Cuter voice. Snarkier attitude. Open, and perhaps, willing. 

If you knew that, perhaps Heeseung calling you pretty as if it’s his natural born right would become something different in your head. Perhaps you’d want to live in your sister’s shadow just once more. Why not try and take what your sister has? Wouldn’t that be fun?

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

What a fucking bummer, Heeseung thinks, as he sits on one end of the couch with you on the other. He’s watched you more than the movie at this point, but the clock is tick-tick-ticking, and you’re just sitting there pushing through the horrors with a smile. Something's got to give. 

Your sister comes home in three hours, leaving space for just one more movie and he is truly determined to score this win if it’s the last thing he does. The worst part? Morals don’t mean shit if you want him to fuck you.

If there’s one thing Heeseung hates more than losing, it’s one-sided attraction. He knows he’s not the problem, you are for not looking at him long enough. You are for not even considering that he could fuck you better than anyone in all of those porn accounts you follow on twitter. Not that he stalked it or anything (he did.)

And that’s why, as his stare becomes darker, he stands up and scratches the back of his head with a sigh. 

“I’ll be right back.” He says, watching you wave him off as if you were totally paying attention to him.

That’s going to change right the fuck now. 

He heads to his shared room with your sister, stepping into the walk in closet and examining himself in the wall length mirror before sighing. 

Goddamn, he really stopped caring about how he looked once he finally got between your sister’s legs and locked her down. It’s no wonder you gave his friends more attention that night than you’ve ever given to him. He inspects his hair, messy and frizzy from his hoodie being pulled over and off of his head throughout the day. The cowlicks in the back leaving nothing to your imagination in regards to when the last time he washed the fucked-up locks was. 

He sighs at himself, licking his palm and trying to tame the cowlick. God, a shower right now would seem ridiculous because he’s supposed to be on the couch with you, standing up the gore and death on screen so your hand will accidentally touch his dick or something. 

No good. He needs to backpedal a little bit with his confidence, probably. He steps out of his room, taking his hoodie off at the same time. He rolls the sleeves of his t-shirt now, wanting to at least reveal his shoulders and arms to you. Wanting to parade himself around the house until you drip for him. 

“Hey.” He walks back into the living room, still rolling the last bit of his left sleeve up and over his shoulder. “Can you pause the movie for like ten minutes and throw a pizza in the oven or something?”

You look up at him and the way he seems like he’s thinking about something far off from any situation that’s currently happening. 

“Yeah, sure.” You nod, reaching for the remote and pausing the movie. “We could just keep watching while the pizza cooks though.”

He chuckles, knowing you’d say that and not at all having an excuse. 

“I need to take a shower.” He dead-pans, as if it’s not sudden or weird that he’s decided to rudely interrupt the last movie of the night with a shower that could definitely wait. 

“Just shower after we finish the movie.” You roll your eyes, still standing to your feet and heading towards the kitchen. “It’s not like your stink will get any worse in the matter of a few hours.”

Oh, so now he smells bad?! Is that why you aren’t into him?

“Or you could stop complaining and make the fucking pizza.” He snaps for the first time with a tone that indicates you should probably listen and do as he says. 

“God, what’s your problem?” 

“My problem? What’s yours?” He shoots back, far too annoyed that you play hard to get like this. There’s no way you seriously aren’t getting it. “You’re the one sitting around like you’d rather be doing anything else.”

You press the preheat button on the oven, and look at him shocked. Are his–feelings hurt? Are you really acting like a bitch, or uninterested in getting to know the man your sister will probably spend her life with? 

Were you really acting like you weren’t having a good time? God, you must be such a drag. 

“What? I was having fun, Heeseung, I like watching movies with you.” You try to explain, but he cuts you off.

“Fucking act like it then.” He gripes before turning on his heel and leaving you alone in the kitchen. 

It’s not like you knew he expected you to be interested in friendship with him or anything. You were just…hanging out. You really didn’t know it was supposed to go differently in his head, and the fact that it appears that he does have a specific expectation?  You wonder how to fulfill it. 

After all, you’re trying to avoid showing all the interest you actually have for him when you’re hanging out. It’s what you’re supposed to do, right? And well, by the time he’s out of the shower and presenting himself to you, you think you might have a better idea as to what he’s thinking. Is he trying to impress you right now? 

You can smell his cologne mixed with a minty scented shampoo. His hair looks blow dried. His skin is glistening, and he’s fucking shirtless. 

He watches when he sits down, this time closer to you on the couch presumably so you could share the pizza sitting on the coffee table just in front of you then he checks the clock. Only about thirty minutes wasted out of the remaining time he has with you alone, and then he checks you. Staring. Damn right. 

To you, he looks different.

Not just handsome, or kind of endearing in a loser way. But he actually looks sexy sitting there, with those loose gray sweatpants leaving nothing to the imagination in terms of size, and his exposed torso makes it harder to keep your eyes to yourself.

 His broad shoulders seem to accentuate his neck much more than you imagined considering you never have seen him lounge around like this, and his hair is no longer dented. It’s washed, fresh, and looks fucking good on him. 

Then, his smirk. It’s permanent on that knowing face of his.  

“What are you looking at?” He side eyes you, totally ignoring the pizza because he wasn’t actually hungry. 

He feels a victory welling up in his chest at the way you look at him though, seeing you already get so flustered? So easy. 

“Um,” You pause, tearing your eyes away in embarrassment. “Nothing.” 

He chuckles once in a short breath before stretching himself back against the couch cushions, spreading his legs wide and taking dominance over the space in the room. 

“Didn’t seem like nothing.” He flirts easily, testing the waters of how willing you are to admit that he’s getting his way. “You were checking me out.” 

You face forward now, shifting closer to the arm of the couch and pretending like you can't feel the warmth of the hot water he must have used radiating off of him. 

“Of course not!” You laugh nervously, lunging forward for the remote again. “Why would I check you out?”

Heeseung rolls his eyes at your shitty attempt to lie. 

“Because I took my shirt off for you.” He says, turning his head to look at you with a malicious smirk. “Was that not obvious?” 

You turn to look at him in surprise. Why the fuck would he even say that to you?!

“Do you like me better this way? Half naked?”

“What are you talking about?” You avoid him like your life depends on it, not wanting to admit that you definitely find him more attractive right now than you ever have, and the fact that he’s talking to you like this only further pushes you to want what you can’t have.

“You think I’m hot, don’t you?” He presses, bouncing his leg and keeping his eyes on the way your chest heaves at his words. 

“You want me, don’t you?” He continues pressing, repeating the question in a way that makes you feel forced to agree with him. 

“You’re gonna think about me the next time you–”

“Heeseung!” You shout, turning your entire body towards him with heat searing on your cheekbones. “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re dating my sister.” You try to bring both him and yourself back to reality with that statement, more upset internally at the fact that you’re right about it. 

He’s dating your sister and yet, he’s…doing this. To you. And you fucking like it?

“Yeah, no shit.” He laughs you off, looking down at his lap and feeling a twitch at the way you don’t leave the room. Proving in some way that you definitely like it. “And I’m still right, aren’t I? You’re just playing hard to get.”

You stare at him, dumbfounded and utterly shocked by his blatant attempts to come onto you. Unfortunately, you’ve never been in this situation before and your eyes tell on you the same way your body language does. Of course he’s right, and you know you’re doing a terrible job of hiding it.

“Ah, Yeah.” He smiles, watching how you try to keep your eyes on his face but failing. “I’m right.” He continues, lifting his ass just slightly to accentuate the shape of his cock under these sweats for you to get a good eye full. 

You swallow, looking away from him and squeezing your legs together. It feels like such a sudden change of atmosphere. What was once a deniable crush on him becomes a confusing whirlwind wet panties and zero morality.

Does he get off on trying to rile you up? There’s no fucking way he’d actually go through with any of this. He’s just doing it because he thinks it’s cute that you want him. Right? 

You know for a fact that if Jay talked to you this way, you would have let him do whatever he wanted to you. But this is Heeseung. Not Jay, not Jake, not Sunghoon, with their shitty attempts at trying to pull off the exact thing. Oh god, this is bad. This is so bad. 

“I’m going to my room.” You swallow around the thick words, not at all wanting to leave the room solely because your body is giving in instantly to the fact that Heeseung is dirty talking to you for no goddamn reason. 

Perhaps it’s the fact that the one thing your sister has that you shouldn’t ever be able to obtain is doing this. Never did you think a mere idea that he’s attractive would turn into a split second decision of wanting him to fuck you. 

“No, you’re not.” He chuckles, spreading his legs a bit wider now and looking down at his lap, the same exact spot your eyes are looking at. “You’re going to try and keep your eyes on the screen, and we’re going to finish this movie.” 

Safe to say, that was a harder demand to follow than you anticipated and he seemed to fucking love raising his brow at you each time he caught your eye on him. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

By the time your sister returned home and essentially tamed her boyfriend from acting out any longer, you felt…insane. She tamed him without even knowing that he was acting out, not double-taking at all when she walked in to him spread out and shirtless on the couch with you struggling to watch the movie. You felt his confidence radiating, making the living room feel suffocating and unstable in terms of if you belong there or not. 

You find yourself in your room now, cuddling up in your bed with thoughts ruminating on how you have not one, not two, not three, but four men throwing themselves at you. You don’t recall ever actually giving them the idea that this is okay. Or maybe you did? You’re not sure.

You scroll through your text messages, old friends from back home falling into the background each time you open a message from Jake, or the other two that consistently check in with you like you’re some sort of prize to be won. 

Maybe you want to be a prize for some handsome guy to flaunt though, and you embody all of that confidence you got from, somehow, having the one man you’re not supposed to ever obtain parading around for you.

You embody it to text back. To be bold. To give in to the arousal that just slammed you in the gut, reeling from the very idea that there are men in this world who want to fuck you and you’re about fed up with pretending it’s a lie.

You: are you done with your game? 

You send the same message separately to all three of Heeseung’s friends, and somehow you’re still unaware that they all three share the information with each other in discord. 

“Are you done with your game?” Jake mimics in a feminine tone. “She’s playing with all of us.” 

Jay chuckles through the mic, damning them to be second and third place as he quickly texts back.

Jay: no, but I can be. Why? 

“To be fair, we’re kind of playing with her too.” Sunghoon cuts in, responding in his own way to your text and telling you that he’s bored, that he’s waiting on you to give him a date and time to pick you up, that he’s annoyed with his friends. 

“Well, yeah!” Jake bellows through the muffled mic. “I mean, look at her.”

“Oh, I’ve looked.” Sunghoon smiles at himself before snapping his eyes to the discord and noting how Jay has muted himself. 

“That mother fucker.”

Jake follows suit, noting exactly what Sunghoon is calling out before lending a groan of his own. 

“He’s trying so hard.” He rolls his eyes, knowing for a fact that Jay is probably already mid text-conversation with you.

And he would be right, as you lay against your pillows and let Jay’s conversation overpower the two other unopened texts from his friends. 

You: im a little overwhelmed right now, not sure how to explain it.

Jay: overwhelmed how?

You: well…

You take a second to yourself to breathe, feeling your entire body radiate with a feeling that can only resemble that of want, or perhaps need. You’ve sexted multiple times in your life, but never in a situation where you’re sexting because you’re overwhelmed more than just aroused. 

It’s the fact that you’re bringing it up this time after playing uninterested since any of them started texting you. You’ve dodged Jake’s dick pics, you’ve pushed off the date you agreed to go on with Sunghoon, and you’ve even gone as far as telling Jay you’re not interested at all.

Now though? You can imagine what he’d think of you to see you bring it up. Do you care though? Not that much. After all, you’re single, you’re consumed by the ability to do whatever you want, and Jay’s hot. 

You: im frustrated.

You: REALLY frustrated.…sexually

Jay: oh yeah? for me?

You stare at the screen, sending him an emoji that confirms your words for a third time before swiping away and looking at your inbox of available men. You know who else is hot? Sunghoon. 

You: hey if we went on a date, where would you take me?

Sunghoon: probably a movie or something idk, why? what would you wanna do?

You: id wanna go to your house

Sunghoon: and why is that, cutie?

And as you pick up conversations with both men, reeling from the attention, you think…hmm, you wanna know who else is hot? Jake. 

You: Jakeeeee

Jake: whaaaat :) 

You: remember that dick pic you sent to me then begged me to delete because it was an accident?

Jake: …

You: i didn’t delete it. 

Jake: you like it?

You: maybe. 

And you guess this is who you are now, plotting and setting up some form of sexting situation with three different men, who are all very close friends, who all very much seem to reciprocate your advances.

It’s actually pretty cool, as you lay here reading words from a different man every two minutes. Jay telling you exactly how he could help you with that frustration, Sunghoon asking you to explain what you’d wanna do in his house with him, and then Jake blatantly sending his cock to you again like he has nothing better to do. 

It’s all fun and games until things start to get real heated and you get kind of into it. Focusing on Jay’s little message of, “im helping you out here, you should help me too. send pics.” 

You ask yourself why you consider doing it before swiping away and landing on a video of Jake, face bright and smiling before lowering the camera. Blatantly fucking himself just because you said he had a nice dick. 

Your body is feeling permanent goosebumps because of those two, overwhelming you more than you could have imagined to see just how far they’d be willing to go to try and convince you to do the same for them.

Sunghoon brings a different form of arousal in his inbox though. Far more tame than the others, asking you to push, telling you to say all of the dirty things rather than him. Pushing for a date. 

Sunghoon: keep talking to me like this, ill come get you right now. 

You: not yet, just this for now.

Sunghoon: no pressure, are you touching yourself at least?

You: I am 

Sunghoon: yeah? thinking about me too right? 

You: yea

You’re lying. Kind of. Half-lying, at least, because you are thinking about him but you’re also thinking about Jake, and Jay, and sending nudes, and– Heeseung.

You’re thinking about Heeseung, and only because you can hear the shuffling in the room a wall over. Then? Thumping, right behind you as you lay in your bed. At this moment, you should be able to focus on the men blatantly trying to fuck you, but instead you’re reminding yourself of how Heeseung looked earlier.

And you’re listening. Thumping, thumping, thumping, until you hear–

“Don’t cover your mouth, she’s probably asleep anyway.” You hear Heeseung bellow out in a far-away voice. 

Great. They’re fucking. Just fucking great. Well, now what? You think, as you thumb back and forth between messages with frustration.

Your mind reels as you listen though. Imagining Heeseung more than anything being the force behind those thumps on your wall. His voice almost croaked when he regarded you directly to your sister while fucking her. Why can’t you stop thinking about him? All it took was a single day of marathoning movies?! A single shower?! 

God, you’ve got to seem desperate to be reacting this way. He probably thinks that shit is funny.  And as you now shove your headphones in your ears so as to not hear anymore of it, you stand on your feet and walk to your bathroom. You’re too interested in being fucked now, might as well give the boys something to look at, right?

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“She really is trying to get away with it.” Sunghoon says, dumbfounded by the receipts provided by all three boys in their own private group chat.

Without Heeseung. 

“Yeah, but she sent me an ass pic.” Jay boasts, smiling to himself and silently saving the other provided images that you sent to his friends. 

“Whatever, I’m picking her up today for what she wants to call a “date”. She literally said she wanted me to pull her hair.” 

Jake gasps, offended.

“What the fuck? She said she wanted to pull my hair!” He groans. “Why am I the one she thinks would like that?! I have a big dick! I could–”

“Anyway,” Jay cuts him off. “She really is just like her sister. Heeseung doesn’t even know how I’ve seen his precious girlfriend’s pussy, only a matter of time before I’m seeing her little sister’s too.” 

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, ignoring Jake’s huffing and puffing as he does his best not to laugh at Jay’s almost victory over your sister. 

“Well, I’m getting the girl this time.” He says, opening his texts and reading through the presumed masturbation session he shared with you last night. “Said she couldn’t wait to see me.” 

“I’m sure she could though.” Jay says, competitive, wanting to win. “You’ll see.”

Sunghoon can sense the competition in the air, knowing that Jay is probably coming up with some lame ass plan to get in your pants before he can even get the chance to pick you up tonight. 

And then there’s Jake.

“You know, maybe she’s right.” He rambles on, thinking hard about how your dynamic with the other two seems to differ greatly from the way you speak to him. “I do have better hair than both of you combined.”

And they stay like that, roasting each other while simultaneously lusting over the same girl until Heeseung gets online and pings them in the regular group chat for a round of gameplay. 

“What’s up, virgins?” Heeseung greets, booting up his game and noting the silence in the voice chat. 

“I said, what’s u–” 

“We heard you.” Sunghoon chimes in, preparing himself for a direct mission of humbling the fuck out of him. “Call me a virgin all you want, doesn’t change the fact that I’m getting my dick wet tonight.” 

“Please.” Heeseung laughs, rolling his eyes as he waits for them to get into the game lobby. “Who would stick your dick in them anyway?” 

“Your girlfriend’s little sister.” Sunghoon announces. 

Excuse me?

“In your dreams.” Heeseung tries to laugh, but is interrupted yet again by his two other friends laughing first. “Wait, you’re serious?” 

Sunghoon hums a confirmation, which leads Heeseung to wonder what the fuck happened in the span of one single night. He could have sworn he had you in the palm of his hand on that couch. He knew you heard how good he fucks your sister. 

There’s no way. 

“Nah, she’s already got a crush on someone else.” He continues to brush Sunghoon off. “And it’s not you.”

“Yeah, because it’s me.” Jay laughs, bombarding Heeseung with another low blow. “Why else would she take her shorts off for me?”

Anger? Yes. Jealousy? Also yes.

“Bullshit.” Heeseung calls out, staring at his discord and the way his friend’s names light up every time they laugh.

 “What are they trying to do, Jake? Spill.”

Jake silences his laughing. 

“Oh, you think he didn’t get nudes too?” Jay laughs harder. “She sent them to all three of us last night. Different pictures too, she wasn’t skimping on the goods, I can tell you that much.”

Heeseung takes a moment to breathe through his nose. “And just why did she send you nudes?”

“I didn’t even ask for them, Hee, honest!” Jake tries to get on his good side. “I guess showing her my dick did something for her though.” That did not get him on Heeseung’s good side. 

“Why the fuck  is she sending you guys nudes?” He asks again, this time slightly raising his voice. 

You should have been sending him nudes to prove your insatiable lust that you must have. Right? Like, why not him? If anyone? 

“Oh, right.” Sunghoon finally reveals the truth. “First person to fuck her wins.” 

“Is that so?” Heeseung leans back in his chair, crossing his arms with narrowed eyes at their stupid usernames. 

Competition is what he’s best at. 

“Yeah.” Sunghoon confirms. “And by the end of the night, I’ll be the winner.” 

“That’s what he thinks, anyway.” Jay snickers. “She’s already texted me a cute little good morning like she didn’t sext three guys last night.” 

“Mhm.” Jake hums into the mic. “Me too.”

Sunghoon tilts his head in confusion at that, now checking his phone and noting that he hasn’t received his own good morning from you yet. Weird. 

“You guys are aware that you can’t do that, right?” Heeseung chimes in, knowing that he’s playing their game now. And he’s good at playing games. “You seriously can’t be trying to rail my girlfriend’s sister.”

“Yeah. We are, actually.” Jay overtakes the conversation. “Besides, she wants it.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You wake up feeling insanely embarrassed by how you acted like night. 

Tonight’s date with Sunghoon probably won’t happen. There’s no way you can live up to the confidence you showed him. 

You: hey can we raincheck?

Sunghoon: no wtf? 

He reacts negatively, because his victory is now being ripped from his hands by the prize herself. It’s not even just like, the fact that he wants to fuck you just to say he did it before anyone else could. It’s the fact that you’re kind of cool. Incredibly hot, and super willing to slut yourself out. 

Just his type. He loves being able to tame girls and keep them locked between his legs, with his cock in their throat. 

You: sorry i just don’t feel good today, can try this weekend? 

Sunghoon sighs, sending you a short approval before focusing back on the intense game playing out on his screen. 

“She canceled on me.” Sunghoon complains, shooting a player dead between the eyes before crouching and running off to find his next kill of frustration. “Jay, what did you fucking do?”

Jay snorts, smirking on his end of the screen, camping like an asshole in a bathroom and waiting for some unsuspecting dad of six to run by and get his cheeks clapped by some idiot with the username of DADDYJAY02. 

“Told her I’d fuck her real good if she cancels.” He jokes, mostly focused on the current game at hand.

Heeseung is pleased to learn that you’re skipping the date though, leading him to believe that maybe he was right in thinking he’s got you in the palm of his hand. 

Still doesn’t change the fact that you’ve got nudes in your phone. Nudes that you sent to three fucking losers that couldn’t even come close to doing what he could do for you. 

“He’s talking shit. She hasn’t left her room all morning.” Heeseung says. “I already told you guys that she has a crush on someone, and it’s not any of you. So, you can go ahead and kiss your bullshit sex-game goodbye.”

Jake pipes in now, listening to the sheer amount of confidence coming from Heeseung and Jay.

“I dunno.” He breathes, picking people off one by one in his own, less-than-great playstyle. “She’s still texting me and being all cute. Maybe she just thinks you guys are weird.” 

“What did she say?” Heeseung asks, now more focused on what Jake might say rather than the fact that Jay just got downed and needs help. 

“Something about how she feels embarrassed about everything but likes talking to me, heart emoji and all.” He says in a nonchalant tone, now being downed himself in game. “Me and Jay are down.”

“Stay down then.” Heeseung scoffs, ignoring both dying friends as he focuses on the win. 

“Dude, fucking pick me up.” Jay now argues, throwing his hands up at the gameplay, watching Heeseung blatantly run straight past him. “Heeseung! Pick me the fuck up!” 

He snickers in response. 

“Stop trying to fuck her and I’ll pick you up.” 

“I’d rather die.” Jay argues back, accepting his in-game death and instead pulling his phone out to text you. “In fact, I’ll text her right now.”

Sunghoon, listening to the chaos and still neck-to-neck in terms of kills with Heeseung, tries to ignore the fact that he’s losing the only game he cares about winning right now. 

“All three of you are starting to get annoying.” Sunghoon mumbles into the microphone, killing the last remaining player and stretching his arms out in a sigh.

“You’re just mad because she’s ghosting you for me.” Jake sings out happily.

Heeseung listens, seething in his head about how they’re really just gonna keep doing this shit and decides, fine. 

He’s already playing the game they’re playing. He’s been playing it for much longer, actually, with those panties he took from your dresser when he built it. With the way he placed your bed against the same wall his bed is against, just so you could listen and suffer for his cock to stuff you full instead. 

If it’s a fucking competition they want, they’re gonna get it. 

And with that? He logs off without so much as a goodbye before heading to his bathroom. For the first time in years caring more and more about how he dresses and carries himself just to see you want him. 

He styles his hair, brushes his teeth, perfects his hair with the hood up on his hoodie, and then heads straight to your room. 

“Hey, Sunghoon said he’s supposed to be going on a date with you tonight.” He says as soon as he gets to your door.

You look panicked.

“Oh, he told you?” You say, avoiding eye contact with him because goddamn does he look good today but also, what the fuck Sunghoon?! 

“Yeah.” He answers in a less than entertained tone. 

“Did he–” You pause, now looking at him and his stupid attractive stance against your door. “–say anything else?” 

“Oh, he told me all about it.” He admits to you now, loving the way you curl into your own embarrassment. “I did warn you, you know.”

You blink at him, wanting to hide from the entire situation. Especially because the only reason you went for his friends was because he got you all choked up. 

“Still, I thought you’d tame yourself a little bit. I mean– Jay too? Really?” Heeseung starts to pick you apart with the information he’s learned today. “And Jake?”

You groan out, covering your face with both hands. 

“God, I don’t know what I was thinking.” You try to explain. “I just–”

“You were wet.” He answers for you, smiling at the way you try to run from the truth. “So wet for me that you ran to my friends?” 

Only now do you move your hands from your face and look at him. Shocked that he got straight to the point, and is entirely correct.

“You got their hopes up, you know.” He continues, taking control of the situation as he crosses his arms and leans his head back and against your doorframe. “Right after getting my hopes up.” 

“What are you–” 

“You know what I’m talking about, and you know exactly what I’m doing.” He cuts you off, speaking for you, thinking for you, not letting you get a word in to doubt a single thing he’s saying. “You know what you’re doing too. So, look at me next time I come in here and call you out on your bullshit.”

Your eyes stay on him, full of embarrassment and a sense of guilt. You feel scolded, which is so fucking wrong and weird for it to come from him of all people. 

“Time to stop pretending now, babe. If you want this–” He says, looking down between his legs and grabbing his bulge. “You’ll stay away from my friends.” 

And then he just…leaves with a smile? Doesn’t even let you respond? 

“I’m going to the store, we don’t have shit to eat in this house.” You hear him complain as he walks down the hallway, acting as if he didn’t just word-fuck you with the truth that you weren’t quite ready to accept. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You’re losing it. Truly, you’re losing every ability in your body to ignore the fact that you not only think about Heeseung in ways you shouldn’t, you want him in ways that should be a fucking crime.

Seeing him grab himself like that in your doorway? Fuck, if he hadn’t of walked away right after, you very well may have found yourself with your ankles up by your ears, begging him to use it on you. 

No self restraint at this point, and you don’t even care. 

Your phone is long forgotten as you pace your room, wondering if you should leave the house too, just to find a sex shop that has a Heeseung sized and shaped cock for you to fuck yourself on in order to get this intense feeling of need out of you. 

That’s really all it took for him to make you go fucking feral for it? A little bit of flirting? A little bit threatening? A grab of his cock, practically dangling it in front of you like the two of you are allowed to be having those kinds of moments together? 

Fuck him for knowing how to get you horny more than you know how to do it yourself. Since when did you like men to act that way towards you? Since fucking when did you get off on a boyfriend that your sister intends to fucking marry?!

It’s so fucked up, and it’s equally fucking hot to you because it’s fucked up. 

Out of everything your sister has that you don’t, Heeseung is the one you want most. And he’s just fucking…he’s just–

God damn it. You sigh, pacing back and forth, checking the time on your phone and ignoring all of your unread texts. Heeseung has only been gone for a total of ten minutes and it feels like you’ve been pacing for hours.

Throbbing between your legs at the small glimpses of his size under whatever pants he wears. With his hair, and his skin, and his stupid, shit-eating smirk that he throws at you. Telling you he knows. Showing you that he likes it. 

You stop your pacing for a moment, squeezing your eyes shut tight to try and flutter the images of him out of your head. Trying to get the reality to come back to you. 

What’s fucked up is that it is reality that he’s doing this to you. You can’t avoid it like it’s a guilty little wet dream you’d be able to hide. 

It’s real.

And, well, fuck it. You love your sister just as much as you always have, even as you want to fuck her boyfriend. Even as her boyfriend seemingly wants to fuck you.

Even as you leave your room, entering their room for the first time. 

Even as you inspect their bed, the placement suspiciously right on the other side of your own bed against the wall. 

Even as you smell the familiar scent of Heeseung on one of the pillows and instantly throw yourself on the bed against it, shoving it between your legs in a desperate and obvious show of how much you really, really, fucking want it. 

And if this is what it feels like to lose your fucking mind? So be it. 

His pillow is soft, offering little pressure to your clit as you writhe against it, but you moan louder than you ever have while pleasuring yourself. For once, the house is empty and for once, you have a point of arousal that doesn’t involve porn.

Your mind falls into images of him, and the way he moves his body during every day instances. Then, to the way he sounded when he fucked your sister in this very same bed. He must fuck hard, because that consistent thumping on your wall seemed to prove it already. 

Fuck, you hope he fucks hard. 

You saw the outline of it a few times by now too, so big even while flaccid and uninterested in you. He must know how to contain himself too. Real calm, real collected when it comes to how he’d probably use it. 

The images swim up and down behind your eyes as you writhe your clit against the corner of his pillow for what feels like ages, knowing your panties are being pushed into the folds of your wet core, feeling your shorts skew as you move, back and forth, stretching with each grind forward. 

You’re aware that parts of your pussy are out in the open between grinds, feeling the soft material of his pillow rub you only slightly raw with the force of your movements, and you simply don’t care. You’re home alone, remember? 

Wait. How long have you been doing this again?

“Oh, fuck yeah.” You hear from behind you, startling you into a defensive position of curling around the pillow. “Bumping it real good, weren’t you? Right up on my pillow?” Heeseung laughs, standing just inside of the room with a step much quieter than he’d normally have when he’s walking around. 

“Fuck, that’s so gross.”  He snickers with hooded eyes and a triumphant smirk as he crosses his arms. 

“You really thought I wouldn’t find out? Like I wouldn’t be able to smell it? I smelled you when I walked in.”

God, the fucking horror that replaces the arousal hits you harder than you ever knew it could as you jump to your feet on buckled knees and try to mutter out an apology.

“I’m sorry.” 

He just said you were gross. He said he could smell you while scrunching his nose. 

“I’m sorry, Heeseung, I’m sorry.” You continue, trying to make your way past him ultimately so you can lock yourself in your bedroom to never come out. 

“Hmm, what makes you think you could just come in here and fuck my things?” He isn’t going to let you go that easy, of course he isn’t.

The thing about him is, he knows he’s got you now. That little sex bet going with his friends? They’re done for.

 Full control of the whole situation is right here in the palm of his hand, and the proof is that embarrassing wet spot you left on his pillow. This was all he needed. You made him chase, and he’ll be damned if he gives you what you want now so easily. 

It’s your turn to ache with the same feeling between your legs. You’re going to be fucking gone by the time he finally gives it to you. 

“I thought y–” You try to explain, not looking him in the eye when he holds you in place by the arm from leaving. 

“Thought I wanted you over her?” He mutters to you in a hot whisper, pulling you back and against him, dipping his head and chasing your line of sight to force you to look at him. “Oh my god, how sad.” 

You try look away, entirely confused, embarrassed, fucking ashamed. 

Never have you let guilt take you over like this because you’ve never allowed yourself to be in a position to feel so goddamn stupid.

He’s going to tell her what you did. You might as well go pack your shit now and get ready to go back home because this was not okay. 

“I’m sorry. I misread…” You’re being forced to look at him, but you still keep your eyes on the bottom of his chin rather than his eyes, feeling his hands squeeze you, not at all noticing how rock fucking hard he is due to the sheer terror you feel at this moment.

“Mm, no you didn’t.” He explains, eyes scanning over your flushed face, tears prickling in your eyes. 

And once again, fucking confusion. The weight of guilt lifts off of you at his words, allowing you to look him straight in the eyes this time. Urging him to tell you that he does want you. That everything you thought previously was true.

That he was trying to come onto you. 

“You were throwing your legs open for just anyone.” He lands the blow harshly, with his breath hitting you square in the forehead. “I just wanted to see if you were really as slutty as Jay said you were.”

A direct blow to any confidence you ever could have had walking around this house. 

You fell for it. Your sister is dating a piece of shit, and somehow you still find him so attractive. You still wish he was lying. 

You still wish he liked you, or wanted you on some level.

“God, such a cry baby too.” He rolls his eyes now, breathing in deep before releasing his hold on you. “Go cry in your room, I’m sure you still have an orgasm to get, don’t you?” 

You refuse the eye contact again as you try to walk away in a way that you wish could make you disappear. He’s making damn sure to shame you straight into the dirt, and it makes you feel so unclean. 

“Don’t you?” He repeats with a louder voice as you walk away, stepping into your room, and closing the door behind you.

Yeah, you’re still probably going to get that orgasm. He knows it. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Heeseung is a nightmare to be around. You’re annoyed that you didn’t notice it before and actually wanted to be around him before that mishap with his pillow. 

You can’t read him. 

When your sister is home, he ignores you for the most part. He spends his time on his PC yelling with friends, he scoffs at you, looks at you like you look and sound ridiculous any time you say something, yet, when he’s with your sister, he’s so, so, loving. 

All over her, really. Hands on her waist, back, thighs, ass. He’s so sexual with her in front of you, to the point that you can’t make eye contact at all with either of them. 

To the point that you miss it every time when he checks to see if you’re watching. 

What’s worse about Heeseung is that you think now that he has no interest in you. Everything he did really was for an ego boost, or like some shitty game he was playing. It got to the point that, yeah, you’re sexting at least one of his friends as often as possible despite never giving them a reason to come over, and certainly not going to see them yourself. 

It’s like a bandaid as you lay in your bed night after night listening to Heeseung on the other side of the wall draw you into a state of lust, pining, and absent passion. So vocal, when he’s fucking her.  You always feel alone when he does it, with your fingers slamming away and offering pleasure that never gets you there. You always come up short, never being able to get off. 

Even with all of that, he still flirts.

Which fucks you up even more. He’ll make you feel so awful about everything that’s happened, everything you actively say or do, and then turn around and smile at you when your sister is at work. 

He’ll offer to make dinner for you. He’ll do your laundry and fold it, always mixing his clothes into the pile by accident. He’ll touch your waist. He’ll brush his hand past yours when he catches you in the hallway while walking by. 

When you try to flirt back, or look at him for too long though? Hope in your eyes and weight lifting from your shoulders at his hidden actions? He shuts you down instantly. 

Like this morning, when you left your room and went to the kitchen to make coffee, he was already there. He came up behind you real close, rubbing what you presume to be his soft dick against your ass as he lifted and grabbed the filters down for you. 

And when you choked up and looked at him? He could see that little glint of hope in your eyes.

“I was just helping. Jesus christ, you’re more needy than your sister.” 

Or that time yesterday, when you were lounging on the couch and he came out after a shower in those same fucking sweat pants, without a shirt again, and sat down next to you. Spreading his legs wide, smirking, and watching you try to avoid his eyes. 

“Can’t even look at me without getting wet, huh?” 

Safe to say, Heeseung is playing the game with his friends a little too hard. Knowing that at any point during the day if he wanted to push you to the floor and take you, he fucking could. 

So that leaves you now, sitting here feeling about as crazy as you did the day you ran into his room and started fucking his pillow. Every day is felt with sexual frustration that you don’t know what to do with, even sexting his friends, even receiving their videos and hot words, even with their promises of multiple orgasms and hour long sessions of head, your frustration isn’t satiated.

You worry it never will be if Heeseung doesn’t move out, or like, fall out a window or something.

And as you leave your room to go back to the kitchen for a snack, of course you note the open door of the office that is far too silent compared to thirty minutes earlier. 

Of course, Heeseung has trained you to be entirely too curious about what he’s doing at all times when the two of you are alone.

Of course, you don’t turn and walk away the moment you see his back turned, shoulder moving, and a brightly colored hentai flashing across his monitor. 

In fact, you stand there solely because you can’t deny yourself of this.

“Was wondering if you’d come in here.” He mutters through a breath, turning his face for a moment before pumping his hand harder. “S’only fair that I let you watch too, right?”

He’s bringing up the pillow incident. Again. Like he hasn’t brought it up a million times since it happened as a form of shaming you. Telling you how it smelled, laughing and asking how many times you planned to do it behind his back. 

You’re still frozen though, coming to terms with the fact that he could call you an ugly whore and you’d probably accept it at face value just to watch the very scene in front of you.

Are you selfish or are you just desperate? 

Maybe a bit of both.

“Come over here.” He says to your silence, now swiveling his chair around and ignoring the animated fuck-fest on screen. 

You take in an inhale, trying not to show it by looking away from him, but ultimately failing when your eyes fall straight to where his hand is in his pants. The tent created by the sheer size of him leaving far too much for you to think about. 

Anyone in this situation would call him a loser. Jerking it to hentai? Looking the way he does? Being unemployed and doing this at like, eleven in the morning? You can tell he hasn’t slept too, and that’s entirely something a simp would do. Something a virgin would do.

But, you want him. You’ve never been so attracted to someone, actually. He sees you swallow at the image too, smirking and stilling his hand. 

“Shit, you’re really just going to watch me?” 

Yeah. You figured that was obvious to him, considering he already thinks you’re gross, embarrassing, and shameless. It’s not like you not watching at this point would change his mind about you. 

So, you just stand there, watching, waiting.

Until he gives you a breathless chuckle and a shake of his head. 

“Come on, get a better look then.” He encourages you through a soft moan, sliding his fingers on the underside of his length, feeling the pre-cum drip out. 

There it is again. Him acting interested. 

It’s really the worst because you give in every single time, clinging to the hope that maybe he really is interested this time, only to be shot down time and time again. 

Right now is no different from the countless other times he’s flirted just to laugh at you trying to flirt back. Even as you walk towards him with shaking hands gripping the bottom of your own shirt for comfort, you know he’s probably just going to pull his hand out of his pants and probably present a very large cucumber or something before laughing at the fact that you really thought. 

Except, he doesn’t do that. 

You can see the wet spot at the top of the tent his cock creates, right where the head rubs up against the fabric and it proves that he’s really touching himself right now.

“Lower.” He instructs under hooded eyes, head leaned back against his chair, body slouched and relaxed. “On the floor.”

Ah, the fucking power he has is electrifying. You really just do everything he says in the hopes that someday, he’ll put it in you. In the hopes that someday, he will show you what it is that your sister loves so much about him. 

The way you do lower yourself to your knees on his floor, sitting right there in front of him with your eyes glued to the hidden act of what he’s doing to himself? God, you’re dirty.

He chews on his lower lip as he works himself up to the image of you simply on your knees, gripping your shirt like it’s the only thing holding you from falling off of the earth. So pretty, so complacent, so willing. 

Fuck, he knows his friends want you and he can imagine that they must furiously get off to this very image themselves, thought up all by themselves. Except they’ve actually seen your body, Heeseung hasn’t seen shit.

“Take it off.” He says through a breath, the words shaking with each pump of his fist as he tries to stimulate the whole length of his cock without pulling it out. 

It’s a tight fit in his pants right now, but he isn’t going to show you a damn thing. 

You blink up at him, your eyes shining and bright at the fact that you’re fine not seeing it. You seem totally satisfied just watching him pleasure himself. 

Oh god, you’re fucking perfect. 

Even more perfect when you do remove your shirt, tits sitting nice and naked for him to stare at harder. Big. Plush. Prettier than the ones that are drawn to perfection by horny men on his screen just to the side of him. Prettier than your sister’s, even. 

“Ah, yeah.” He comments, hand pumping faster, cock leaking more. “Just sit right there and look pretty for me.”

And, you do. Hands now pressed into the carpet beneath you, gripping the texture much like you did your shirt just to press your tits together for him. Just so he wants you right now, even if he won’t ten minutes from now. 

He really does just watch you too. The image of you alone like this seemingly just enough to get him there when you notice his head slam back against the headrest of his chair again.

Bottom lip bitten, eyebrows raised, a held breath, and then he’s releasing that same breath along with his cum. All into his hand and against his pants as he pumps harder through the sensitivity of his orgasm. 

Eyes falling back to you, darker this time, he smirks as he slides his hand from his pants, careful not to lose any of that thick, milky, cum, and tipping his fingers at you. 

“Ahh-” He opens his mouth, speaking to you as if he’s feeding you a snack, and for some reason, you mimic it.

Your mouth opens as you lean forward and he slips his fingers in, relishing in the feeling of your frantic tongue licking up the taste of him.

So desperate, god, you want it so bad and he can see it.

He can feel it. 

And by the time you’ve licked his fingers clean, eyes tearing up because you know he’s about to mock you for how much you loved the taste of it, he pulls his hand back and says nothing.

He doesn’t even smile at you when he stands up, staring down at you like he owns you. 

You’re just sitting on the floor shirtless, avoiding his eye contact and preparing for whatever fucked up thing he wants to say about it, salty sweet remnants of his flavor in your mouth, and near tears in your eyes. 

“You really did that.”  He says before stepping to the side of you and heading for the door. “Swallowed all of it too.”

You did, and of course you’re ashamed despite sitting here wet and aching. You nod as you stare at the floor in shame, hands clasped in your lap.

“Good girl.” He breathes out to you before leaving for the bathroom, not another word muttered to you.

And as Heeseung stands looking at himself in the mirror, chest heaving as he reels from what just took place, he smiles. God, the horror you must feel right now. If you knew how much he liked this and how willing you were to take what you can get, you’d probably be the happiest girl alive. 

You’re so willing to feel ashamed, so willing to be shamed, just to look at him? Just to see him do this? Just to suck all of his cum off of his fingers? 

You’re fucking crazy. 

If you knew how he silently jerked off, breathing in that pillow you had against your pussy, you’d probably orgasm on the spot. If you fucking knew how he stole your panties the very day you moved in, you’d probably give him the ones you’re wearing now just to please him. 

Ah, so perfect. It’s only a matter of time now.

Only a matter of time before he wins and shuts his friends up for fucking good, because honestly, it’s getting old now to hear his friends pretend they have a shot at this with you.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Living with your sister became something you never meant for it to be. You’re not living with her, you’re living with fucking guilt, and confusion, and insatiable lust for the man she’s supposed to be pleasing every night. 

In fact, the amount you see her is far less than you originally thought. She works so much, and when she’s not working overtime just to come home and love on her asshole of a boyfriend, and tell you sweet goodnights like you didn’t eat his cum off his fingers, she’s sleeping away the exhaustion of being the only good person in this house. 

Unfortunately for her though, you don’t care.

You appreciate the freedom she’s given to you on a silver platter, with a nice new bedroom suite and good food in the fridge, but you know she didn’t bring you here with the intention of giving you this much freedom.

She gave you the ability to fuck and be fucked whenever and where ever you want, but the choice wasn’t meant to be Heeseung. With his ever changing moods, annoying gamer rage, and disconcerting need to flirt and shame you. 

You can’t believe you’re sitting here across from her before yet another one of her shifts, drinking the same juice, eating the same breakfast, pretending like you haven’t tasted the same cum she has. 

You can’t believe that while growing up, you always shared her stuff against her will. She hated finding you wearing one of her favorite tops, or her new pairs of shoes. She would get so mad and all you can think now is that, surely she would kill you if she found out what else you’ve used behind her back.

And when you watch Heeseung kiss her goodbye, he seems all too entertained with the situation. Watching you pretend like you don’t want him, watching your sister be blissfully unaware of who his dick twitches for.

  Watching, watching, watching. 

Staring, really, at you through the kiss. Up until she leaves for the day and you’re left staring back at him. Heeseung lends you a small wave with an uncaring face, wiggling the same fingers he fucked your mouth with in your face, almost seeming like he’s attempting to lure you to open those same lips again for him.

Almost as if to remind you that you’re pathetic. 

And goddammit. You fucking are.

That’s why, of course, you’ve found yourself time and time again in these same text messages. Fully guilty of leading these guys on but not nearly as guilty as you feel each time you show how bad you need it to the one man who doesn’t deserve it. 

Jay, if he could, would probably fuck you right on the doorstep by this point with the amount of nudes, phone calls, and blatant shows of sexual interest. You can sense how annoyed he is with cumming all by himself using your photos, but like, that’s very attractive of him to wait.

Sunghoon? So frustrated with you for never following up with him, but entirely willing to fuck you with his dirty words and images of what he’d love to do if you’d just get the fuck out of the house for a day.

And Jake, ah, Jake. The cutest. One you’d take all of this frustration out on, the one who would probably apologize to you for everything bad that’s ever happened to you mid-orgasm solely because he wouldn’t know what else to say or do when he’s feeling so good.

Sexting any of them, or all of them, is really your only relief from the man who looms around this house. But at this point, even that is doing nothing for you.

Even as you read Jay’s texts, knowing he’s actively playing video games at the same time and not jerking off like he claims. 

Jay: take a new one, i want more material 

You: you’re not even touching yourself, you know I can hear heeseung yell at you right?

Jay: what? you think I can’t multitask? 

You: is that why he’s yelling then? 

Jay: one handing it and still got more kills than him, yea

God, he’s too confident while being such a fucking loser, but yeah, you’ll send him a new picture. You’ll go ahead and send it to Jake too. And Sunghoon, of course.

Then you pause with your fingers on the screen, zooming in on your body and checking it. Only half wondering what would happen if you took a pussy picture. Only half thinking of sending it to Heeseung. Not the other three, just him.

Half wondering turns to full wondering, as you listen to him yell something about Jay going down again mid match, proving that he probably was, in fact, fucking his fist mid-game and absolutely not getting more kills.

Heeseung’s voice sounds so full of anger. So loud, cracking in pitch even. It’s hard to imagine someone sounding so stupid being able to act in a way that’s made you feel so lost and ashamed of wanting him. 

Yet, he did. And that’s why you decide right at this moment, you’ll always give in to his flirting even while knowing he’ll mock you and make fun of you for it. You’ve already dealt with it to the point that you’re used to it. At least you still get something out of it, right? 

At least, maybe, he’ll give you something else to feel ashamed of today, right? 

And as you take that photo, lying back on your bed, shifting your panties to the side and spreading your lips open for the camera, you snap a photo of your hole for him. Right there, already wet just imagining him thinking you’re pathetic for doing this. 

At this point, you’re not feeling too ashamed of it right now. After all, he jerked off looking at you like there wasn’t at least three holes being fucked and filled on the screen behind him before. So…

You send the photo to him, ignoring the displayed message from Jay stating, “you only sent this one to me, right?” 

And then you wait. 

And you wait.

And wait.

You can still hear Heeseung yelling his gaming talk, but you watch his text messages like a hawk. Feeling nervous, terrified, embarrassed, shamed, turned on, curious, wet.

Each time he’s silent, you stare at the messages, up until you notice that he’s opened it. 

He saw it.

You wait for footsteps, you wait to hear him tell his friends that he’ll be back. You wait for him to stomp in here and call you gross. 

And you wait more.

And more. 

Up until you can’t wait any longer and you find yourself shifting up and off of your bed, leaving your phone behind as you make your way to the office. He’s facing away from you as usual, the character on screen on a swivel as the scope of the gun searches for a head to shoot, and then– his phone.

Right there beside him, open, the image pulled up. 

“What are you trying to do?” He says, but you can’t tell if it’s for you or his friends. 

You stand there, pussy looking much the same as it was in that photo, except now with your shorts back on you, and panties back in place. 

“Trying to fuck me over right now?” He continues when a kill screen shows up and he’s got a few seconds to lift his hand from the mouse. Not even looking at you, he beckons you with two fingers and pushes his chair back just slightly.

By the time you get up beside him, he puts his fingers over his mouth, glancing up at you, then down at his phone and tapping it. Immediately after tapping, he points to the floor in front of him, scooting back more to make room for you.

The silent conversation is loud as he narrows his eyes at you when you sink to your knees on the floor in front of him. You crawl under the desk, legs quivering at the idea that he’s absolutely ignoring you, but also inviting you. 

As if he’s feeding you what you want. As if he doesn’t need this too. 

And maybe he doesn’t, you think, as you carefully reach forward to his knees, feeling him push his chair in and trap you under the desk. He doesn’t look hard, proving that he’s simply allowing you to quench your thirst for his cum, surely. 

Allowing you to be pathetic. 

Allowing you to see it. 

And finally, you do. He’s even polite enough to lift his ass up a bit just to let you pull his sweats down to get it out. Slowly growing at the feeling of your breath against it. 

You breathe deeply before you press your lips against it instantly, darting your tongue out curiously and closing your eyes to relish in the first taste of his skin. It’s a clean taste, and despite him not being fully hard for this just yet, it only drives you to do better, to do more, until he actually wants you to do this for him, not just for you. 

You could argue that it seemed much bigger when he was jerking it off in front of you, then again, he’s still not fully hard yet. 

It actually hurts your feelings that you’re the one needing to get him horny right now. After all, you are clearly hungry for it, not him.

And you take him into your mouth again, and again, feeling him stiffen by the second. Still, his focus isn’t on you or what you’re doing down here. 

Until it is, anyway. 

By this point, you’re actually struggling to take him into your mouth, and you can argue he’s only at half-girth as you try. The top of your head bumps his desk every few seconds, which forces you to keep him in your mouth. 

Kind of terrifying actually, to have put something in your mouth so readily only to regret the fact that his cock is essentially locked in by the small pace you’re trapped in, and it’s only swelling up more and more by the second. 

Hardening until your throat is constricting around it, forcing you to gag and search for breath.

It’s hard to breathe as you cough and drool around him, frantically trying to pull off of him and hitting your head hard against the desk when you do.

He fucking chuckles at it before you feel his hand slip under the desk with you and grab his now fully hard cock. What does he do with it? He fucking slaps it straight across your face before forcing it right back between your lips. 

You hate to say how wet that made you, and you hate even more to say that you kind of like the feeling of your throat getting bruised. Willing yourself to gag around him again, trying to twitch your tongue against the weight of his far too big length in your mouth. 

You don’t want him to laugh though, you want him to fucking moan. All for his friends to hear. After all, it’s the first time you’re going down on him and it’ll probably be the last time too, right?

Not to mention, you’ve barely had experiencing sucking dick as it is, he should he fucking helping you get through this.

But he’s not. He’s just…playing his fucking game. Hell, the twitches of his length against your gag reflex is probably more for the kill he gets rather than the way your dripping spit all over and down his balls. 

This is embarrassing, and yet– you love it. You fucking adore it, with the way your clit aches just at the thought that he���s letting you put your mouth on him at all.

Maybe it really is for you, and not for him. 

“Ah, fuck.” Heeseung groans, probably more to his game than to you.

His hand shoots under the table, right to the top of your head as his other balances himself on the seat of his chair. There, he holds your head down on him and angles his hips just slightly to fuck up. Gaging you repeatedly, holding back his own moans at the way you’re just going to let him use you like this.

And as quickly as it happened, that short grunt from him not going unnoticed, he’s drawing his hands back above his desk, relaxing his body, and giving back the control. 

Already, you can hear his fingers against the keyboard again.

“Back in the game, Jay, to the right!” He shouts, showing you that he absolutely just fucked your face because he got fucking downed in the game. 

And you continue, trying to give him that same feeling that he forced on you just now, and never quite getting the same force behind your lips or tongue for him. His cock is throbbing though, choking you with each dribble and spurt of precum, up until he’s pulling the same trick.

Fucking up, holding your throat down on him, for just a bit until he’s back in the game and playing.

This happens for what feels like forever. To the point that surely, you’re drenching the carpet under you, and you’re starting to feel insecure in the fact that he hasn’t cum yet. Are you really just…bad at giving head?

Heeseung’s legs shift as you continue, slowing your pace and trying to rub your jaw through it with your free hand that’s not gripping the fabric of his lowered sweats. You do this up until his cock is suddenly sliding further and further out of your throat when he rolls his chair back. 

Ah. 

Oh.

Oh, my god. You think, getting the first glimpse of his face since you started. Blown out pupils staring down under his desk, hair a mess, mic right up against his smirking lips. 

He looks…like he enjoyed it? Maybe? Are you getting ahead of yourself?

“You want more?” He asks, straight into the mic and confusing his friends. “I can see how much you want it, baby, come on. I’ll give it to you.”

You stare up at him, pretending that when you crawl out from under the desk and try to stand, you can’t hear the way he turns up the volume of his friends responding in confusion. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You hear the familiar voice of Sunghoon. “If you’re gonna fuck your girlfriend, at least mute yourself, dick.” 

You nervously glance to his game that’s still full screened. You knew he was gaming with his friends since this morning, but for him to talk to you like this as if they can’t hear him? 

“They’ll want to hear you.” He comments now, alerting his friends that he’s obviously not talking to them. “Trust me, they don’t fucking shut up about you.” 

That’s when they realize.

“No fucking way.” Jake blurts. “There’s no way.”

Jay remains silent, staring at his unanswered text message before minimizing his game and dropping his mouth in surprise.

“Come on then, you already let me fuck that pretty mouth, might as well, right?” He says to you again, this time lifting his hips and tapping his desk. “Bend over for me.” 

What you think is just an unmuted mic, unfortunately, is much, much more than that. You see, Heeseung likes to stream to his friends, back and behind his full screened game was the image of him suffering through your need to deep throat him half to death.

He remained calm, at first not exactly wanting his friends to know. Not wanting them to see you like this, and most certainly not wanting them to have any images of you to get off to. But now? Oh, to win their own game in front of them? 

‘Fuck, look at that.” He says, watching you take the spot in front of him and bend over his desk, keyboard buttons pressing in and glitching the screen out momentarily due to your tits lying against it. “Now look up.” He instructs. 

“No. Fucking. Way.” Jake blurts again once he minimized his game and instantly saw you on the camera, looking so out of it, so unaware. “Sunghoon, are you seeing this?”

Jay was still watching with his mouth agape, cock leaking as it always does for you except now?  It’s the fact that Heeseung is really just gonna do something so awful to your sister? He’s really  going to fuck you right here, right now? With proof?!

“Heeseung, don’t.” Sunghoon warns, unable to tear his eyes away from the screen in front of him. 

“Don’t what? Sunghoon?” Heeseung smiles as he reaches his hands around the front of you, pulling you back by groping both of your tits. “Fuck your girl in front of you?”

You just listen, shocked that Sunghoon is actually asking Heeseung to stop. Shocked that they apparently have beef or something, over you? Surely not. 

“No–” Sunghoon chokes back. “Don’t turn off the camera.” 

“Camera?!” You panic, trying to break free of his grip on your chest, but he holds you there, pressing you closer with your back to his chest, his cock throbbing under your thigh. 

“What? Now you have an issue with cameras?” Heeseung seethes sarcastic words into your hair, squeezing your tits harder now. “Relax, baby, I know they’ve already seen you like this.” 

“Right?” Heeseung now directs his attention to the screen, lunging forward to quickly minimize the full-screened game, getting a good look at his friends and you in the camera against him. 

The image is wildly attractive to him for many reasons. For one, he can see himself on the screen with his point of desire sitting right here on his lap. Secondly, his friends are awestruck by what he gets to have right now. Shamelessly watching, biting their words back, taking in deep breaths. And lastly, he can tell that everyone on camera right now either wants to be him or be fucked by him.

What’s not to love about this? 

And Heeseung is quick when he flashes his eyes away from each of his friends, straight to you in the camera, watching you avoid looking at the screen. He moves one hand from your chest, pushes his chair back, and immediately cups between your legs. 

“You show them this too, or was that just for me?”

You shake your head at Heeseung, reeling with embarrassment and arousal as you try to squeeze your legs closed around his hand. You feel choked up, throat sore, legs buckled, clit throbbing for him to dig his palm against it.

“Mm, you see that Jay?” Heeseung moves his eyes to his friend on screen. “Couldn’t even get her to show her pussy for you?” 

Jay appears entirely tuned into the situation, eyebrows sitting furrowed and focused on you. God, if only he focused that much in game, Heeseung thinks he could probably out rank him if he wanted to. 

“Jake?” Heeseung trails to his other friend, making sure each and every one of them hears and sees exactly what he’s doing. 

Your eyes follow the names Heeseung calls out. Shyly, somewhat dazed. Tearing your eyes from Jay was already hard enough as is. After all, seeing his blatant attraction to you right there, in front of everyone? Maybe you should have let him hit, even just once because damn. It’s almost pitiful, that look in his eye as he watches you. 

Jake on the other hand? You can tell he lets his hair fall partly in front of his eyes but he smiles to himself while watching. Something about seeing him like this makes you feel like you’ve just experienced extreme whiplash. It embarrasses you more knowing that you figured Jake was too inexperienced to know how to fuck a girl. He was too sweet. 

Too soft.

Too different from his friends.

As you look at him now though, you realize he isn’t different at all. In fact, he might have been more full of shit than any of the others as you stare at his wicked eyes and nod of approval at Heeseung. 

Hell, he’s even the one who mutters out a small, “Show us her tits.” 

The only reason Heeseung does as Jake asked is because he can’t help but relish in the look on their faces of seeing what they could have had, but now never will. To see them lose. To witness him win. 

They’re pathetic. Truly, when he drags your shirt up your belly and over your chest. Already braless, of course. And honestly, you’re shocked that they all react this way like you didn’t just send them tit pics but– 

This is more embarrassing somehow. Four pairs of eyes are on you and only one pair of hands. You want all of their hands. 

“I fucking knew you’d let me do this.” Heeseung chuckles against your ear, cupping his hands under your tits and presenting them to his friends. Bouncing them, rubbing them, pulling on both nipples before releasing them and letting your tits fall into their natural position. “Knew you were a slut the moment I saw the kind of panties you had hidden in that suitcase of yours.” 

You glance away from the camera now, knowing Heeseung is right with his words. 

“You should be fighting me, not dripping that pretty pussy all over me. Am I wrong?” 

You should be fighting. You shouldn’t be okay with this moment being broadcasted to three different people that you’ve been leading on. And yeah, you should hate him for all of the confusion and mental anguish he put you through. 

Yet, the arousal you have for him outweighs all of it. The arousal you have for this situation in general outweighs any shame you could feel, or the shame that comes after it. 

Being wanted like this by four men who you find incredibly attractive? 

“What more could a girl want?” You murmur in a hushed tone, rolling your hips just slightly on his lap, letting him feel the warmth of you seep into his sweatpants. His cock still hard and raging from your previous actions of choking on him.

Those words shock him as his eyes glance to the screen, noting how you’re writhing your body on him, totally shameless, totally fucking perfect with your tits out and on display, only pushing for more. It’s the fact that he fucking forgot he had his head set on for a moment and didn’t even catch that you whispered that shit straight into his mic. 

He only realized it when he saw three faces on screen drop to a slack jawed expression and Sunghoon immediately leaned forward with a groan of “spread her legs.” 

On any other day, for Heeseung, Jake, or Jay, seeing Sunghoon clearly push his pants down his thighs off camera would make them recoil and make fun of him. But they’re not right now, because the focus isn’t on any of the cocks being openly hard in this shared online space. 

The focus is on you, and the way Heeseung absolutely spreads your legs and pushes your knees up by the thighs so that the flat of your feet are resting on his knees. There, he drops his hands from your tits and reaches around you, rubbing the line of your shorts on the insides of your thighs just enough that glimpses of your panties flash every few seconds. 

From back here, the camera offers Heeseung the same view but it hits him differently because he’s the one doing it. He’s got his head resting on your shoulder as he watches, noting how you lean your head back against his own shoulder and breathe through his guided touches. 

“Look at yourself.” He turns his head to whisper right against your cheek. “You’d let us all take a turn, hm? Wouldn’t even know which dick is in you.”

Your eyes open in a roll, landing your gaze on the screen and feeling flushed at the image. You don’t care how embarrassing or pathetic you are for this. No, because, look at them. Everyone wants you to act like this. 

“Probably wouldn’t even care either, as long as you’re being fucked. Yeah, that’s right.” 

Nodding in a daze against him, you roll your hips harder, trying to bump his hand against your pussy, trying to prove to everyone that you have three holes and two hands for a reason. 

You don’t flinch when he slides his hands up the leg of your shorts either, pulling them to the side to reveal how wet you are to everyone. Listening to your body and the way it sings to him, brushing his knuckles against the swell of your clit, tapping the space where your hole sits and clenches to be seen. 

“Ah, fuck.” Jay finally lets out in a shaky breath, hand clearly still working himself because, well, he was half hard before you made an even appearance on camera. “It looks like she pissed herself–” 

Heeseung laughs as he drags his eyes to the image between your legs, so wet, entirely drenched through your nearly see-through panties at this point. Jay is right, it does look like you’ve pissed yourself, which only makes his cock throb more. That you’re so wet for him? So fucking drenched? God, he doesn’t even need lube with you.

You slick up so nice for him, it’s actually becoming painful not to test the stickiness, the slide it offers, the warmth. With this much pouring out of you, like you’ve already squirted, surely you could take all of him.

In an instant he pushes you from his lap, making you feel dizzy and light headed because suddenly you’re on your feet in front of him again. He gives you no time to balance yourself when he’s pulling your shirt up and off of you in a huffed out sigh, holding you in place by your tits to keep you from toppling over and breaking his monitor.  

And when you steady out, his hands run straight down, shoving your shorts and panties down in one go before immediately pulling you back to his lap, holding your arms behind you, and spreading his own legs to force yours open for his friends.

“Take a good, long, look.” Heeseung directs towards his friends, sliding his hand in front of you and using two fingers to present your hole to them. “If you think she’s pretty, let her know now.” 

It’s the way Heeseung moves his hand from behind you just to set his headset on your head now, quickly pinning your arms in place again and allowing you to listen to his friends do just that. 

Immediately, pussy spread and unintentionally clenching in the camera, one of your senses is enveloped with the sound of Jay’s palm shamelessly dragging up and down his hidden cock. Then, the sound of Jake and his deep inhales paired with slight cracked whines, just as shameless, doing much the same.

Then, Sunghoon.

Fucking Sunghoon. Barely moving, but more willing to talk to you with that headset on your head. 

“This why you didn’t come over?” He asks you blatantly in a breathy voice, glaring at the fingers of Heeseung holding your cunt open for him. “That could be me right now, but you’re really just going to fuck him? Of all people?”

You groan, lifting your head to give a proud nod and accidentally bumping Heeseung in the chin with the action. 

The bump forces him to bite his tongue, a metallic taste of the small amount of blood flooding his mouth mixed with saliva when he dips his head, grabbing you by the hair and forcing your mouth to his.

You can taste the blood too, when he presses his wet tongue past your lips without so much as swallowing the mixture first. Practically drooling and spitting into your mouth through the rough kiss. It feels like your drowning, kissing him back like you’ve always wanted to, tasting him in a new way now and moaning into it. 

Like a slut, really. Just fucking moaning. And he only forces more out of you too, as you feel him adjust his hands, holding you here on his lap, rough tongue bleeding against yours, sliding two fingers into you with one push. 

God, finally. Fucking, finally. 

Your mouth falls open in a sharp inhale of feeling his fingers, his lips turning to a smirk at hearing one of his friends audibly moan at the image on screen for them. You just showed how much of his saliva you were savoring, diluted red in the drool dripping down your chin through your moan.

You’re dirty, all four of them can see that much. But only Heeseung gets to feel it. 

His cock throbs at the image when he strains his eyes to the screen, plunging his fingers in, out, in, out, until he pulls them from you entirely, thrusting them into your open mouth instead. 

You squeal at the intrusion of his sudden fingers against your tongue, offering a third taste in your mouth. Yourself. 

“Mhm,” Heeseung encourages you. “Suck it up like you did for me the other day.”

You hear Jake gasp at the idea that you’ve already done this for Heeseung before, probably leading him to believe that Heeseung has also probably already fucked you.

And hell, with how it’s looking, none of them would be shocked if that were the case. 

“You’ve been doing this while talking to us?” Jake tries to confirm with you through a breathed sigh, groaning and unintentionally showing that he…wouldn’t mind. 

“God, I don’t even want to fuck you now.” Sunghoon on the other hand, isn’t so willing and lies, absolutely wanting to be the person fucking your lips with his fingers. “After Heeseung? Disgusting.” 

Oh, they think he’s fucked you already? 

You shoot your eyes open, trying to shake your head in a “no” at them but still suckling around his fingers. 

“Goddamn,” Heeseung grunts, rutting up against your back, letting his cock leave leaking little spots of his precum against your lower back. “Your sister would never act like this.” 

“You should be ashamed, but you love it.” He continues, talking, talking, talking. Shoving his fingers deeper, deeper, deeper. “Work that tongue like a good girl.” He continues to whisper from behind you before– 

You’re gagging. Feeling his fingers reach deep into your throat and press your tongue down to the point you’re forced to open your mouth wide. Exposing not only your finger-fucked pussy to his friends, but now your open and constricting throat. 

Sunghoon immediately regrets his insult at you, seeing how wide and open your throat can be. Gagging openly with very little sound as Heeseung compresses your tongue through it. 

You’re drooling again, eyes blinking up at the ceiling as if you could possibly find a way to drink away your tears. 

That’s about as much as Jay can take, gripping the base of his weeping length, willing it to stop threatening him with an orgasm before Heeseung really gets you looking pretty. He chokes up through the mic, and the sound runs straight through your body.

There, he watches you moan through an open and dry mouth, throat muscles tensing just to get the sound out. He grips harder, needing to pull his eyes away but struggling so hard to fucking do. 

“Shit, baby. Stop.” Jay calls through the microphone, forcing his friends eyes on him, yours included, as all of you watch him vibrate in his seat in an attempt not to cum. “Stop moaning.”

Heeseung hears him say it, and intentionally gags you again instead. Bumping his fingers at the back of your throat with a smile on his face. Glancing between all of his friends, seeing how pathetic they are for what he does to you. 

The fact that they’re sticking around at all? Both great and fucking embarrassing. Even more embarrassing than you. 

Then Heeseung focuses back on you, tears running down your pretty cheeks, mouth agape, throat struggling to adjust still to his fingers despite taking his cock like that’s the only shape or size it wanted. 

Ah, your body is so pathetically telling, and he grants you the release of another gag by sliding his fingers out of your mouth and straight back to your warm, pulsing, hole.

Right back in, one hole filled at all times it seems, as he feeds into the whiplash he’s able to give you. You didn’t even notice how he shoves you off of his lap until you can no longer see the screen in front of you and are face to face with his keyboard. No frustrated face of Jay, no forced calm and collected expression from Sunghoon, no blatantly bitten lips of Jake. 

No, only the feeling of Heeseung chasing your hole with his fingers, your hips running from the touch due to sensitivity and buckled knees. He holds you there against his desk, standing behind you and pressing his cock between your ass cheeks. Fingers roughly rubbing your clit, sliding down to fuck into you, then out again to rub you harder.

His friends watch you try to run your lower half away from him, but his eyes stay glued to the camera, as if he’s staring into the soul of his friends. 

“You guys wanna see me fuck her?” He comments in a sly tone, cock grinding against you. “I can fuck her.” 

“Ah, Hee–” You groan as a response, listening to the slapping of palms against cocks only grow more furious and finally relaxing your body to now search for his fingers, just to push yourself back on them. “Please.”

He snickers from behind you, grabbing a hand full of hair at the back of your head as he rips his fingers from your needy hole, wiping them along your cheek as he forces you to look at him. 

“Again.” He demands, now pinching your cheeks with one hand, arching your back more by the pull of your hair. “Say, “Please, Seungie, fuck me.” He whispers into your mouth, loud enough for the mic to pick up the way you swallow around his words. 

“Say, “Please, Hee, give it to me.” He continues, making his voice higher pitched as if to mock your moans.

Sunghoon watches and listens in shock, never once wanting to know that this is how his own friend fucks someone, but goddamn. It’s like he’s just found the video on page 86 of pornhub that hit just right as he watches. Fucking up and into his fist like his life depends on it, waiting, waiting, waiting, for you to moan out just like Heeseung is telling you to. 

And it’s the fact that you fucking do, Heeseung watching the way Jake presses his entire body into his chair, staring down at himself with a fast moving palm, so fast that he can see his friend lose himself to the pleasure.

Jay, near tears in his eyes as he watches, probably moaning in your ear like a mad man right now. 

You fucking say it.

You say both, moaning in a choked gasp when you feel him stick his tip in you at it. 

“Please–” You hiccup as you try to repeat the words again and again for him. “God, yes.” You rasp out in a deeper tone at the feeling of him slide in. 

And he keeps sliding in, trying to keep himself from rolling his eyes back when he bottoms out and feels your cunt clench him as if you’ll never let it go.

And then, one quick thrust, holding your hair in his hands, arching you harder, his other hand reaching for yours and holding them behind your back, he fucks forward. 

Your tits bounce with the movement, neck strained to keep your eye on his face as you try to adjust to the full size of him entering you.

“She just takes it.” Heeseung grunts with a choked breath. “Shit, so goddamn tight.” He murmers again, nearly unable to stand on his own two feet how tight you are.

He forces you to look at him through it, squeezing your hands together so tightly through it that you can barely focus on the pain of your positioned body against the feeling of his cock splitting you open with each hard thrust. 

And then, you let out the most filthy, wet, pornographic cry. 

Heeseung then brings his attention to his monitor one last time, watching the pathetic mess of people in front of him getting off entirely on his cock driving into you. 

“I win.” He says with one pointed thrust, keeping his hips pressed against your ass and only pressing in harder, trying to reach another inch in, trying to break past whatever wall inside of you keeps him from impaling you entirely on him. 

All three friends burst into a feeling of realization, Jake already mid orgasm at the sound of that moan you just cried out– 

Then theres….nothin but the feeling of Heeseung releasing your hands and allowing you to grip his desk through this deep hold of his length inside of you. 

Suddenly, no sound through the headset, the light of the monitor in your peripheral vision goes off, and Heeseung is breaking his demeanor just to moan out in full again. 

“Drove them crazy,” He chuckles through a wet groan, now snapping his hips back and leaning forward just to push back into you, deeper, deeper, until his desk ruts against the wall with the tight hold on you. “Driving me fucking crazy.” He whispers, holding his open lips right against your neck when he hunches over in this paused thrust. 

“You looked so good.” He says again, suddenly praising you, suddenly able to relish in the pleasure he’s giving you rather than pretending it does nothing for him. 

You blink away tears, feeling your twisted and turned body, still trying to look at him through this even if he’s released your hands. 

He can see that look of realization on your face and smiles at that too before shooting his hands to your middle and forcing you back and against him. 

He keeps his dick in you, too obsessed with the drag your walls offer to him, and holds you against him just to shift to the side and press you back on the misplaced couch in the room. Man cave stuff, and alla that. 

You watch him guide you face first into the cushions before he is grabbing your hands again, holding them right back in pace behind your back with one hand, and the other pushing your face even further into the pillows. 

“You have no fucking idea, do you?” He grunts, slamming into you again, eyes glued to the way your body strains to accommodate the position he wants you in. “How much better you are?”

Oh. Really now? 

You smile through suffocated breaths, the fabric of the couch invading the taste of your own breath and forcing you to love it just as much. You bite down, listening to his spilling words. 

“Begging me like that for my friends to hear, like you didn’t know I wanted to do this?” He continues, burying himself deep again and holding it there again. “Fucking my pillow instead of me.” 

He seems a little more angry now. 

“Turning my friends on when you wanted me,” He grabs your hair again, pulling you back into that same painful arch and forcing you to stare up at the wall. “All you had to do was ask, sweetheart, I would’ve given it to you every time.” 

The reality that this is not your boyfriend is so far from you right now. The fact that your sister is working away right now to pay the light bill, gonna come home later and share a bed with this man? You’re not even jealous. 

In fact? You’re on top of the world listening to him want you more. 

And at this point, Heeseung can tell you’re smiling, looking blankly at the wall and totally lost from this world. This is exactly what he wanted. 

Such a pretty little sister, winning him over the bitch that won’t even choke on his cock? It could have been so much easier for you. But this was fun for him, watching you want him and know you couldn’t have him.

Despite him proving that you could have had him any day of the week.

“All you had to do was ask.” He repeats into your ear, now slowing his pace until he pulls out. 

He takes a step back, gazing at the way your open pussy still clenches for him, the way your ass shakes slightly with your legs. 

“Aww,” He coos, blinking at you from behind and reaching forward to flip you over. “You wanted it so bad too, can’t believe you waited.” 

You see him now, fully in person rather than through the image on his monitor. His skin looks so much more full of life, cheeks tinted and hair more fucked up than you’ve ever seen it. Cock huge, weighed against his leg. 

You’re shocked you took all of it like that previously, unable to relish in the pain of it because your senses were overloaded with moans and his own boasting. 

“Your sister doesn’t have to know.” He says now, eyes trailing your body. 

“Ah–” You wince when he licks his fingers and lowers his hand to your clit, one hand spreading your legs out now that he’s got you on your back. “I really didn’t know.”

Heeseung chuckles, finding you entirely too cute and endearing as you look up at him with those fucked out lips trying not to quiver at your sensitivity. 

“You were too dumb to take a hint.” He leans forward, now, using his hand to lift your leg up to your chest, rubbing his cock right against your hole as he pulls his other hand up now, propping up your other leg. “Too stubborn to realize.” 

You nod in a slightly broken way, unsure of if you were the one putting yourself through torture, or if you really were too dumb to notice he was trying to get you to go insane for him. 

He wanted you to jump on him. He wanted you to take it like this. 

“And you won’t tell her?” You whisper now, losing the ability to think much more when he grinds himself down, keeping eye contact with you, that same smirk you both hated and loved. 

He shakes his head at you, almost sweetly when he adjusts his cock to slide in again, knocking the breath out of you with a choked moan. 

“She won’t find out if you can be quiet when she’s home.”

Oh fucking no. He wants to…continue this? This isn’t a one time thing? He’s going to try while she’s home? While she’s gone?  Arguably, you’re fucking glad.

“When she’s–?” You try to question, stopping short when he bottoms out in a groan, breathing in through his nose before lending you a tight, short thrust. 

“Mm, yeah, I’m gonna be in you every day.” He moans, thinking about the image alone of sneaking into your room while his girlfriend is fast asleep.

Fucking you in his bed. In your bed. On the shared couch. Everywhere. Everyday. 

“God, she’d hate us both.” He chuckles through the same moans he can’t stop from spilling out of his throat. “Finding out I’m so deep, so raw like this.”

Fuck. Right.

“Wait–” You come to realization, clenching from panic at the fact that a condom didn’t even come to mind. “Fuck, Hee, wait!” 

He only presses harder now, smiling at how you’ve finally managed to come to your senses. Fucking you faster when you try to wiggle your hips away. Fucking you harder, pressing his entire body weight against the back of your thighs just to force you to stay in one place. Pussy open and spread out, clenching his cock so nicely. 

“Gonna fuck you full,” He kisses your forehead with the horrifying words. “You’ll do it for me right? She won’t let me.”

Those words ring in your head. If she won’t let him, you sure as fuck will. You can deal with the consequences later. You no longer fight to pretend he’s not ramming your g-spot, forcing your voice to shake through a cry of his name. 

“I’m not–” You choke out through cries, feeling your body tense up. “I’m not on birth co-”

“Fuckkkk, yes.” He rolls his eyes back at your half spoken words, losing it at the thought of dripping his seed into you and knowing he’s sterile enough to scare you both for good. “Take it,” He thumps his cock as far into you as he can, willing you to nod your head, willing you to love this as much as he does. 

It’s the fact that you’re not trying to wiggle away now, he can feel your hole pulse at hit words, the way you want to be better than your sister, the way you’d truly let him. 

Even more the fact that you’re not the one he should be shooting his seed into. It should be your sister, the woman who wants to marry him, the woman who said she simply wasn’t ready to bear his child.  Not that you want to either, but goddamn do you want to be fucked full of the possibly, you say it yourself in a harsh grip around his neck, tugging at the long strands of hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Do it.” You whisper through hiccuped moans, his thrusts scooting you up and down on the couch at the sheer force of them. 

“Yeah,” He nods his head, pressing harder against your legs as he chases the very high you’re asking him to give to you. “You want it?” He encourages you to keep telling him. He needs you to tell him. 

You nod frantically, feeling your body tense up again, trying to reach your hands between your legs to rub your swollen clit. Shockingly, that simply touch of your fingers sends you straight over edge, cumming so hard around his deep thrusts that you can barely hear him praise you through it with drawn out groans of “Ah, you’re squeezing me–” and “Just like that, I’m–”

His voice is clear though, when his hips stutter in place and he’s holding himself still. You can feel the pulse of him releasing into you through the last moments of your orgasm. 

“Take it.” He moans. “Take all of it.” He continues, pulling out half way so that his cum drenches every part of your hole. 

There, he uses his hand to milk the rest of it out of him, eyes squeezed shut as he feels the sensation of your own orgasm only slick up the inside of you more than he is, and then– he rams back in. Pushing his cum deep. So deep that you moan at the feeling, knowing the mess is dripping down your ass, and being shoved so far against your cervix that– Well. You panic. 

Arguably, Heeseung should panic too, but he doesn't as he heaves in a deep and relieved sigh, sliding out of you once and for all. 

He just looks at you, a mess on the office couch, pussy pumped full of him, swollen, still pulsing. 

“Can I be honest?” He breathes out after running his hands through his sweaty hair, dropping them down with a slap to your now relaxed legs.

At your silence, he continues anyway. “You’ve never looked prettier than right now.” 

And, well. You realize that with those words alone, selfish and self absorbed as you relish in them, you decide you don’t care that he’s just fucked you raw without a care in the world that he just cheated on the supposed love of his life. You both have won in this situation, and pregnancy isn’t such a scare anyway when he walks away a mere minute later and comes back with a fucking Plan-B pill. 

You’re confused by it at first, popping it into your mouth and looking at him with raised brows. 

“Why do you just have these?” You ask, still catching your breath. 

“She takes one every time we have sex, even with a condom.” He rolls his eyes.  You smirk, noting how if there’s anything you do better than your sister…It’s fucking her boyfriend.

[headkiss]

fall right into me

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: when something happens to your apartment and you need a place to stay, steve, your best friend, is quick to provide it for you. your prolonged proximity forces you both to realize some things.

word count: 13.6k

warnings: childhood bffs to lovers, absolute idiots in love, mentions of a negative relationship with parents, probably inaccurate descriptions of some things but it’s (say it with me) for the plot!!!

a/n: i know it’s been a LONG time since i’ve posted a long fic so thank u guys for ur patience <3 i had so much fun getting back to it and writing these two, and i hope it’s at least a little bit worth the wait!!! ily :,)

𝜗𝜚

Your shoes are still wet as you dial the first number that comes to mind: Steve’s.

He picks up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Steve.”

“Hi,” you can imagine him on the other side of the phone, leaning casually against the wall, an easy smile on his face, “what’s going on?”

You’re not quite sure where to start.

Coming home from work earlier, you’d been excited to shower and change and lay around for the rest of the evening, your book hanging open in your lap and some mindless TV filling the silence.

The day seemed to have other plans for you, though, because as you walked down the stairs to your apartment—one in the basement of a sweet, older couple’s house who just never used the space and converted it—the carpet had made an ugly squelch as soon as you stepped on it.

You looked down at your shoe against the carpet, at the way its color was darker than usual from whatever water had gotten into it. Looking up, you found a complete mess. A piece of the ceiling hanging open right above your bed, water still dripping in steady drops from the gap, your bedding ruined among many other things.

You don’t know how long you stood there, hand over your mouth, eyes flickering over the damage like you were hoping it would vanish, like it was only something you imagined.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

The couple who owns the house came down when they heard you shout for them, unsure of what else to do. They’d both gasped when they came down, and began apologizing for something that really wasn’t their fault before one ran up to call whoever it was they needed to call to fix this and the other comforted you with a gentle “we’ll take care of it, sweetie.”

You nodded, eyes still roaming your space that was now uninhabitable.

It’s an old house, something was bound to happen at some point, you only wished it wasn’t so inconvenient for you. A small leak, you could have handled, but the ceiling practically caving in?

Yeah, it was a complete fucking mess.

Hours later, with the damage assessed and set to take a few weeks to fix up, you’re on the phone with the one person you’d known would pick up.

You fill Steve in on what happened, and his first response is a sigh of, “Shit.”

“Yeah, shit,” you agree. “And now I’m gonna have to live with my parents for a while and I don’t know how I’m gonna go back into that house, Steve.”

If you’re being honest, the couple you live with now was kinder to you than your parents were. You suppose that’s one of the many things that you and Steve have bonded over.

“Just come live with me, instead,” he offers without hesitation.

Steve says it like it’s obvious, a no-brainer, and you guess it should be, since you’ve slept over at the Harrington’s house countless times before. Only, this is different because you’d be staying for a while, because you’d be needing his help, which makes you feel all awkward and guilty.

He’s been your absolute best friend for as long as you can remember, and you’re one hundred percent sure you’d offer the same thing if the roles were reversed, but that doesn’t make it any easier for you to accept, not when you’re already frazzled from the events of the day.

“No, Steve, I’m sorry I’m just being dramatic,” you say, twisting the phone’s cord around your finger. “I’ll be fine, really. It’s just a month, or so, and I don’t wanna be in your way or-”

“When have you ever cared about being in my way, angel?” The pet name he’s called you ever since your ninth grade Halloween party slips out naturally, the way it always does. “Besides, this house is too fucking big for me as it is, and you know my parents won’t be around to care, either.”

“I can’t ask you to let me move in, Steve.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing you’re not asking. I’m offering. It’ll be like that one week when we were twelve and you stayed over for spring break, only longer. It’s perfect!”

There’s a small smile ghosting across your face as you recall the memory he’s talking about. A blanket fort in their spacious living room, sleeping bags and pillows piled inside it along with two flashlights.

You can picture the way he looks on the other end of the phone, his hair a bit messy from running his hands through it during the day, one strand rogue against his forehead, his shoulder leaned carelessly against the wall the way it usually is when he stands. Like he can’t be bothered to hold himself up, like there’s constantly a weight on him.

“Are you sure about this, Steve? It’s really okay if you’re not. I swear I’ll be fine.”

“As if I’m letting you spend multiple weeks back in your parent’s house. You’re staying with me, alright?” His voice is insistent, yet kind, letting you know that he’s being honest, that he means it. “We’ll order pizzas and watch shitty romcoms, ‘kay?”

“You can call romcoms shitty all you want, but we both know you get teary at every single one.”

“Don't change the subject, angel. Also, fuck off,” he says, though you can hear the smile in his voice. “So, you’re living with me, yeah?”

You don’t think you could say no to him even if you wanted to.

“Yeah, alright, Steve. Thank you so much.”

“None of that. I know you’d do the same.”

There’s something beautiful about the kind of trust and ease that comes with a friendship as long as yours. One where you’ve watched each other grow up, awkward phases and all, and stuck together the entire way. There’s no questioning whether or not you’d be there for each other if you were in need.

It’s known, felt. Like a fact.

“Now,” he continues, “I’ll pick you up, okay? Ten minutes, tops.”

“Okay.”

“You need me to bring boxes for your stuff?”

“I’m not sure how much is worth keeping. It’s pretty ugly in there.”

Your voice goes small at the end, because the gravity of it all is really sinking in. You’ll have to replace a lot of stuff. Stuff you don’t have money for right now.

But, you haven’t let yourself cry just yet, so you swallow it down.

“I’ll bring some anyway, then. We’ll figure it out, angel, don’t worry.”

“Thanks again, Steve. See you soon.”

“Ten minutes,” he assures you, then the line clicks.

-

True to his word, Steve arrives in under ten minutes, which isn’t surprising considering the size of Hawkins, but feels reassuring all the same.

You’re sitting on the curb in front of the house when Steve’s BMW pulls over on the other side of the road, and you stand just as he climbs out and shuts his door, rounding the car and jogging over to you.

His keys jingle as he tucks them into the pocket of his faded jeans, his opposite hand coming up to squeeze your shoulder, “You okay?”

The warmth of his palm seeps through your work shirt that you’ve yet to change out of, and you let your eyes fall shut just for a second before looking at his face, “Guess so,” you nod. “Maybe ask me again after all of this?”

Steve’s arm winds itself over your shoulders, tugging you into his side and dropping a kiss to the top of your head, simple as an instinct. “I’ve got you. We’ll get through this, angel.”

We’ll, he says. A team.

You reach up and squeeze his hand and nod, guiding him to the side-entrance leading to your basement apartment.

“I hope you didn’t wear your good shoes for this,” you say.

Steve looks down at his feet and shrugs, “Shoes can be replaced.”

He lets you lead the way down the stairs, his footsteps close behind yours. You wince when you look at the damage again, even though you’d seen it minutes ago. You can't bring yourself to look at Steve, to see the reaction on his face, because you think it’ll just make it all more real.

He mouths the word ‘fuck’ while you aren’t looking, then claps his hands once. “Okay, let’s figure out what we can save, yeah? Where do you want me?”

You’re grateful for his gentle guidance at what to do. “Maybe the bathroom? Everything in there should be fine, so it just needs to be packed.”

“‘Kay. I’ll just go grab some boxes from my car,” Steve says. He squeezes your hand once before heading up the stairs. “I’ll be right back.”

You decide to tackle the worst spot first. Though the place is more like a studio, the side that houses your bed and your closet is the most affected, so you head over there and try to tune out the squish of the carpet beneath your feet.

You’re opening the sliding doors to your closet when Steve comes back, dropping a stack of boxes by your feet and running his hand down your arm softly before heading over to the bathroom to pack for you.

Even his presence seems to be making things a little bit easier for you, and each time he finds a small way to touch you or speak to you, to remind you that he’s there, you’re glad for it.

Half of your closet is a gross, wet mess, but some things are salvageable, which you take as a win. Things might be damp, but at least it’s only water, you suppose. A cycle in the dryer and most things will be wearable again.

Your dresses that are hung get the worst of it, soaked and smelly, and you decide that it’d be easier to get a couple new ones than to try and save what’s there.

Steve checks in every now and then, poking his head out of the bathroom’s doorway to look at you and make sure you’re doing alright, giving you a thumbs up when you look over to him.

You’re not sure how you’d be managing this if you were alone, and you’re thankful that you don’t have to.

The next time he checks on you, you’re by your nightstand.

Sitting atop of it is a framed picture of you and Steve from summer camp when you were around ten years old, maybe younger. Only now, the picture’s stained with water and the frame you’d decorated all those years ago at camp is a splotchy mess.

Where yours and Steve’s handwriting used to be, is now a blur from the water seeping into the wooden frame, the marker’s colors muddy. You frown, picking it up and running your thumb over the edge.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re tearing up, frustrated and sad and tired. Memories like this one are the most special to you, the ones that have kept you going for so long, and just like that, the picture that’s sat on your nightstand since being taken is gone, and it fucking sucks.

“Hey, angel?” Steve calls.

When all you do is sniffle and mumble an “mhm?” in response, he sets the box he’d been packing on the bathroom counter and walks over to you.

He comes up behind you, resting his hands on your upper-arms and peering over your shoulder at the ruined picture.

“It was my favorite one,” you say, voice breaking a little. You wipe your tear away as it trails down your cheek, your own fingertips too harsh against your skin.

Although it’s soaked and splotchy now, Steve knows which picture it is. The one where you’ve both got your neon summer camp t-shirts on, the one where his cheeks and nose are completely sunburnt and you’re both grinning up at the camera from your seats on the ground.

Steve’s clutching a stick in his hand for some reason, and you’ve got your fist tangled in the sleeve of his shirt.

It feels like no time and forever has passed since then.

Steve grabs the picture and pries it gently from your hands, setting it back onto the table and turning you around in his grip to face him.

“We can fix it,” he tells you, his brown eyes all soft as his hands come up to cup your face, thumbs swiping your tears away.

“But the frame-”

“We’ll fix it, angel. I’ll find a way, okay? We can pack it in one of the boxes and figure it out.”

“Steve-”

“Look at me,” he urges you when your gaze flickers to the ground. You listen. “This fucking sucks, I know it does, but you’re strong and I’m here, and we can handle this.”

His voice is quiet, but sure. You search his face for any trace of a lie and find none. He really believes what he’s saying, and he really believes in you.

“Thank you for being here.” You take a deep breath and drop your forehead against the collar of his shirt. “I’m sorry for crying. I know it’s kinda stupid. Most of this is replaceable, it’s just-”

“It’s not stupid,” he says, letting his chin rest atop your head. “You’re allowed to cry. Hell, I’d probably be kicking and screaming on the floor like I'm back in the terrible twos.”

You laugh wetly into his shirt.

“Now,” he says, pulling back and putting his hands on his hips, “the quicker we pack, the quicker we go home. I’ll even let you wear a pair of my good fuzzy socks.”

A smile tugs at your mouth. “Deal.”

-

Steve wouldn’t let you do much of the work after that.

Instead, he simply held up items for you to assess from where you’d been leaning against the wall and packed it into a box if it was a ‘yes,’ or tossing it aside dramatically just to try and get you to laugh if it was a ‘no.’

Once things were sorted through and packed, you loaded everything into Steve’s car—which wasn’t a whole bunch, considering how much you had to leave behind.

You’d refused to let Steve carry the boxes all on his own, though he tried, but he still managed to open the doors for you whenever you made it to his car, even when his own hands were full, too.

By the time you were finished, you were drained. It felt like you’d lived multiple days in the one. An eight hour shift opening at the store, then coming home to a wrecked apartment. All you wanted to do was shower and lay down and not get back up.

Steve knows you well enough to be able to tell when it’s time to fill the silence and when it isn’t, and on the drive back to his place, while your head was leaned against his window, he knew to stay quiet and give you a bit of space.

He turned the radio on, but not too loud, letting the songs hum through the speakers. At every stop sign, he reached over and gave your thigh a light squeeze. Reassuring, kind, somehow exactly what you needed at the moment. Nothing more, nothing less.

You were no stranger to the Harrington’s house, having been there countless times since you were little, but it feels more intimidating now, knowing you’ll be staying. You feel silly for being worried, but you are. Asking for help makes you feel like a burden.

Steve, however, doesn’t let you entertain that thought for long, parking in his driveway and jogging around to open the passenger door for you. “Honey, we’re home!”

“Dork,” you say, though you accept his hand and let him tug you up out of the car.

Grabbing the first couple of boxes, Steve leads you inside and upstairs, right to the guest room across the hall from his own bedroom. The closest one to him.

The house has at least two guest rooms, though you suppose with how little Steve's parents are around, you could consider there to be three. Three spare rooms and Steve puts you up in the nearest one possible. It makes your heart squish in your chest, how caring he is. He doesn’t even have to try, really, the goodness in him shows even when he tries to keep it hidden.

It only takes a few trips down to his car and back before all of your boxes are stacked against the wall. You decide you’ll deal with them later.

Steve runs over to his room and grabs a set of pajamas that you’d left there, and hands them to you. “I figured you’d wanna wash up.”

“You calling me smelly, Harrington?”

“Shut up, I think you smell nice. Usually.”

“Hey!”

“I’m teasing, angel.” He ruffles your hair. You swat his hand away. “You know where the bathroom is, and there should be soap and stuff in the shower already. Just yell if you need something, okay?”

You do know where the bathroom is. You have your own toothbrush in a cup by the sink, a set of travel-sized skin care products in the cupboard behind the mirror for whenever you end up staying over.

It’s funny, you’ve always felt more at home here than at your own parents house, and though he hasn’t said it to you, Steve much prefers this house when you’re in it. There’s a warmth that comes with your presence that makes him ache when it’s not around.

You nod, “Thank you again for letting me stay, Steve. I won’t be in the way, promise.”

“I want you in the way. You know you’re always welcome. This is no different.” He shrugs, “Plus, it’ll be nice having you around. Place always feels so empty when it’s just me.”

“Maybe I’ll just stay forever, then,” you say, tone light and joking.

Steve, completely serious, says, “I’d let you.”

There’s a zip that goes through you when he says it, quick as lightning, something you’ve never felt—or noticed, rather—around him. It throws you off just a little.

“Anyways,” Steve cuts your thoughts short, “I’ll let you get settled. Pizza will be waiting for you when you’re done.”

He leaves the room before you can thank him again, his footsteps retreating and heading downstairs.

You’ve been to his house a million times, so you don’t really feel the need to ‘get settled’ but you desperately need a shower so that’s where you go.

You stay in for longer than you need to, letting the too-hot water run down your neck and back.

When you finally do step out of the bathroom, now clad in your pajamas, and head downstairs, Steve’s sitting on the couch in the living room, the romcoms he owns sitting out in front of the TV for you to choose from, your favorite blanket resting on your side of the couch, and pizza boxes on the coffee table just as promised.

It’s the best thing in the world, you think, to have a friend like Steve.

-

You’ve been staying at Steve’s for a couple of days already, and time seems to fly by a little quicker when you’re there, especially when you’re around him.

He’s taken it upon himself to have coffee ready in the pot for you every morning, one of your favorite mugs already next to it on the counter. You’ve cooked breakfasts together (pancakes one day, where you’d done most of the work, or something simple as toast when you both have to get to work), ordered dinners, and Steve comes home from his shifts with a new movie to watch almost every day.

It’s been so nice. Almost perfect, actually.

This morning, the first day where your shifts happen to be at the exact same time, he’d even insisted on driving you to work. It was an easy yes, considering it wasn’t out of his way at all.

After a short stint of working together at the grocery store in ninth grade, and your subsequent firing from the job after a month of constantly distracting each other on the clock, Tim, the grocery manager, took it upon himself to warn Hawkins not to hire the both of you together.

Eventually, you’d taken the closest you could get which resulted in you working at the arcade and Steve next door at Family Video.

You share a parking lot. Steve already drives you to work most days. You like to put up a bit of a fight just to annoy him.

Though you haven’t worked together in years, and he isn’t far away by any means, you miss having Steve around on days like this. Where the arcade is quiet save for the sounds of the games in the background, where you’re simply babysitting the desk and cleaning things multiple times to try and make the hours pass by.

If Steve were with you, he’d make stupid jokes that you don’t wanna laugh at but do, or coerce you into playing the games while on the clock with the change you find whenever you’re cleaning.

He’d probably trash talk you, and bump your hip with his while playing pinball, and be a sore loser, and for some reason you want him around so bad.

You chalk it up to getting used to spending hours and hours with him, every single day, these past couple of days. Staying with him has made you miss him more, you think.

That’s it.

Meanwhile, over at Family Video, Steve isn’t feeling too different from you.

He’s spent the morning stocking shelves, memories popping into his head whenever he’d come across a movie you loved or watched together, while Robin’s been manning the desk.

Then, when his cart was empty and put back into the back room, he sat on the chair behind the front desk, spinning around until Robin stopped him with her foot and asked what he was thinking so hard about.

Steve caught her up on what had happened with your apartment (you’d told him he could tell her, because she’s your friend too and would find out sooner or later) and how you’d ended up staying with him in his house.

She raised her eyebrows and hummed in a way that was automatically suspicious, because Robin isn’t very good at hiding things.

“What?” Steve asks.

“Nothing.” When Steve only gives her a pointed look, Robin continues, “Well… are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Now, Robin is one of Steve’s closest friends, and him one of hers, and she supports him in pretty much everything that he does even when she teases him relentlessly along the way, but she cares about both of you and doesn’t want to see anyone hurt.

She can read Steve better than he can read himself, probably, because to Robin, it’s clear that he feels more than friendly towards you. And he doesn’t even know it.

When they became closer, it was clear to Robin, even before meeting you, just from the way Steve spoke of you, that there was a spot reserved for you in his life that couldn’t be filled by anyone else.

He would say it’s that of ‘best friend’ but Robin would call it something even bigger than that. Still, even though she thinks he’s an absolute dingus, she’s trying to let Steve figure it out for himself.

Clearly, it’s taking fucking forever.

He looks confused at her question, “Why wouldn’t it be a good idea?”

Robin sighs and resists the urge to drop her forehead against the desk and decides on, “You know what they say: become friends with your roommates, don’t become roommates with your friends.”

“Whoever they are, they’re dumb as shit,” Steve says. “She’s been over, slept over, hundreds of times. It’s not any different, just longer.”

“I guess so,” she settles on. “The rules of the world never really seem to apply to you two.”

“That’s because the rules of the world are also dumb as shit.”

“How would you know? It’s not like you’ve ever tried following them.”

“‘Cause I’m a rule breaker, Robs.”

Steve wiggles his eyebrows. Robin shoves the rolling chair he’s sitting on with her foot, sending it into the other side of the desk with a thud.

“Don’t think that smoking weed in your backyard is enough to call yourself a rule breaker, dingus.”

-

That night, your routine was pretty much the same.

Steve was already waiting for you in his car when you left the arcade, a smile spreading onto his face when he saw you making your way across the parking lot to him, your skirt swishing a little with the breeze.

Rather than go straight home, you made a stop at your apartment to talk things over with the couple who owned the home. They’d met with a builder and plumber about getting everything fixed and wanted to walk you through it all.

Steve came with you and held your hand, and both of them cooed at him and pinched his cheeks and called him a cutie before getting to the important stuff.

After going over what had to be done (rip out the carpet, replace it, fix the pipes and make sure no others were at risk, replace the ceiling, and more you couldn’t even remember already), they’d assured you that they would be taking care of it all. Covering the entire cost.

You probably would’ve argued if not for how little money was in your bank account, and how stubborn you knew these people to be. Instead, you’d squeezed them both and thanked them while your eyes grew misty with tears.

Steve’s hand stayed in yours and squeezed when you sniffled.

He knew, because he knew pretty much everything about you, that these people were kinder to you than even your own parents. That, if this had happened at their house, they would’ve found a way to blame you for it.

You feel lucky to have found that kind of parental love elsewhere, sad that you didn’t know exactly what it felt like beforehand.

After giving the couple Steve’s phone number to call in case they needed you and giving them both another hug, you and Steve headed back home.

Home, you call it. Like it’s yours.

Sometimes it feels like it is.

Later, after you and Steve have both showered and had dinner and gotten comfy in your sweats, you’re back in the living room, Steve shows you the movie he’s brought back this time.

“Gremlins?” You ask, smiling and shaking your head.

“Hell yeah, angel. It’s a classic.”

Steve sets everything up, joining you on the couch after pressing ‘play’ on the movie and adjusting the volume with your guidance.

“So, how was work?” Steve asks during the opening credits. The two of you have a hard time being next to each other and not talking. It’s why you get dirty looks whenever you go to the movies.

“Weekdays are so boring, Steve,” you say, letting your head fall against the back of the couch. “You’re so lucky you have Robin to entertain you during the day. I think I dusted like, ten times at least.”

“Robin is a pain in my ass.” He says. He doesn’t really mean it, because even when she is, he’s glad to have her around. A different kind of gladness than he feels with you. “She kept pushing me every time I sat in the rolling chair. There’s probably a dent in the desk.”

“That’s because you were probably hogging the chair, Steve.”

“What the fuck!” Steve’s smiling when he says it, lacking any sort of anger. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Your smile mirrors his, the way it always does. It’s contagious, you think, the way his eyes crinkle at the corner.

Shrugging, you say, “I don’t know, I’d wanna push you around on that chair too, I think.”

“You’d spin me too much. I’d get sick all over you and then nobody’s happy.”

“Don’t talk about barf while I’m eating, Harrington.”

You throw a piece of popcorn at him. It bounces off his cheek and lands on his lap, and he doesn’t even flinch. Steve just picks it up and pops it into his mouth.

When the bowl’s empty, you lean forward and set it on the coffee table before sinking back into the couch, Steve's shoulder brushing yours. You let the warmth seep through your clothes and shut your eyes.

It’s a little more than halfway through the movie when Steve realizes you’re asleep. You’d been quiet, sure, but Steve only thought that meant you were paying attention to the movie.

That was, until your head slipped and rested against his shoulder.

He looked down at you, at the hair falling across your forehead (he smoothed it away gently, so it wouldn’t be in your eyes or your mouth), your eyebrows relaxed and free of any worry, your chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

He thinks of how tired you must be, after everything. Your apartment and dealing with the aftermath both emotionally and physically, working long shifts most days to keep your bank account full.

Steve, though he doesn’t let himself look too deep into it, also thinks of how beautiful you are. Now and always.

Not wanting you to get a kink in your neck from the position, Steve decides to rouse you from sleep as gently as possible. He slips a hand under your head to keep it steady and maneuvers himself to kneel in front of you.

“Hey, angel,” he almost whispers, thumb dragging across your cheek. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

Your nose scrunches and you grumble, but after some coaxing, you blink your eyes open and squint at Steve. You blame your half-asleep mind on the way you nuzzle into his palm. “Hmm?”

“You fell asleep.”

“Oh, sorry,” you mumble.

Steve laughs softly. “Don’t be sorry, I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

The warmth of his hand leaves your cheek as he stands and holds his hands out for you to grab. He pulls you up off the couch and starts leading you towards the stairs.

You knuckle at your eyes on the way, a tiny smile gracing your face at how sweet Steve’s being. As if you haven’t fallen asleep on his couch plenty of times before.

Still sleepy, you stumble a little on the stairs, but Steve catches you easily with an arm around your waist and a small “Careful.”

He leaves his arm there the rest of the way to what’s become your bedroom, guiding you over to the bed and lifting the covers for you.

Tomorrow, you’ll regret not brushing your teeth or washing your face before climbing in bed. But today, you don’t feel like risking not being able to sleep again if you wake yourself up further.

You’re practically asleep again by the time you’re settled with your head on the pillow as Steve tugs the blankets over you.

You’re just awake enough to feel the light press of his lips on your forehead and a soft “Goodnight, angel” against your skin before he leaves the room and shuts the door behind him.

-

On a random Thursday that you and Steve both have off, he convinces you to let him take you to the mall.

“We should go shopping,” he says when you walk into the kitchen. It’s a little later in the morning, having slept in since it’s a day off, the sun slipping through the window in warm beams.

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Like, groceries?”

“No, like shopping shopping. You know, the mall?”

You lean against the kitchen island, the countertop cool on your back where it touches the sliver of skin between your tank top and sleep shorts. Steve has his shoulder against the fridge, his arms crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his t-shirt tight against his muscles. Not that you’re looking.

You squint at him, trying to find his motive on his face. “You literally buy whatever the mannequins are wearing to avoid shopping.”

“That’s what they’re there for!” The sass in his voice has you biting back a smile. “You need new clothes,” he continues, “and I need to get out of this house.”

“We can do something else, Steve,” you say. “I thought you hated shopping.”

“Well, I don’t hate you.” There’s a pause, Steve’s eyes lowering to that sliver of skin above your shorts. He flicks them back to your face quickly, hoping you didn’t notice, because even he’s not sure what compelled his eyes to wander. “Plus, Eddie called me a hermit the other day and I really can’t stand for that, can I?”

“Ohhh,” you ignore the way your skin suddenly feels warm beneath his gaze, “so you need to make a public appearance to prove Eddie wrong?”

“Exactly. We’ll replace some of the things you lost and restore my reputation. Two birds, one stone, right angel?”

So that’s how you’d ended up at the mall. After Starcourt burnt down, the closest place was a couple towns over, and Steve (as always) offered to drive.

He lets you pick the music the entire way, sings along when you hold your water bottle by his mouth like a microphone, even attempts to harmonize with you which just ends in laughter because neither of you sounded that great.

You’re a couple of stores in, and Steve’s been complaint-free so far—which makes sense, since this was his idea, but you’ve caught him side-eyeing some things, so you know he’s got some remarks in his head he just hasn’t said out loud—and follows you around as you browse. You try not to take too long, because you can’t imagine that this is any fun for him.

“How about that one?” Steve asks, pointing at one of the dresses hanging along the store’s wall.

He’d seen your apartment, though that was a bit ago, and he remembered what you’d lost the most of, along with the type of stuff you like. He pays attention like that, in small, quiet ways that you think mean the most.

He knows you. He cares enough to know you.

“Yeah, that’s really pretty, actually,” you admit.

At your approval, Steve grabs one in your size (which he also just happens to know) and adds it to the couple of things he’d already been holding for you. Every time you picked something up, he was quick to snatch it from you, telling you it was ‘too hard to browse with your hands full.’

After making your way through the rest of the store, you decided to head back to try things on, holding out a hand for the stuff Steve’s holding. “You can wait out here, I’ll be quick.”

“Hold on,” he says, holding the hangers out of your reach. “Why do you think I’m here, angel? I wanna help you pick.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. Give me a fashion show, yeah?”

“Oh my God,” you mumble, letting him follow you to the fitting rooms.

They’re hidden behind the back wall of the store, a hallway painted bright blue with pink changeroom doors on one side, and white benches along the other.

“Hi there,” an employee with auburn hair greets you both, her smile wide and kind, though you know it’s a practiced one. Customer service smile. “How many you got there, darling?”

“Oh, um,” you turn back towards Steve, who’s counting the hangers in his hand. “Five.”

“Perfect!” The girl takes the key hanging around her neck and unlocks one of the rooms for you. She takes the clothes from Steve and hangs them up inside for you, then turns to the two of you and says, “Your man can have a seat right here. We call them the ‘boyfriend benches.’”

“He’s not my-”

“Thanks,” Steve says, cutting off your correction because for some reason he didn’t want you to correct her.

Did he… like the idea of being your boyfriend?

Fuck. No. He just didn’t want you to have to explain the whole situation in your rambly way. That’s all.

The redhead smiles again, “Holler if you need anything,” she says before walking off.

You stand there for a second, something like confusion on your face. Did it look like you were boyfriend and girlfriend?

“Come on,” Steve says, snapping the both of you out of whatever that was. “Show me what you’ve got.”

“I can't believe you’re making me do this,” you say, walking into the fitting room and shutting the door.

You try on a couple of sweaters first, and Steve feels the fabric both times, making sure that it’s not scratchy on your skin. Then, there’s just some basic t-shirts that aren’t all that exciting, but Steve says they look nice anyway.

Finally, you get to the dress he picked out.

It really was pretty. A midi-length with a ruffled hem and straps that tie into little bows on your shoulders. You don’t always feel good in your clothes. Sometimes you wish you could crawl out of your skin when you look into the mirror, but right now, you don’t hate what you see.

You actually like it.

“Well?” Steve calls softly from the bench.

In response, you open the door and step out so he can see you.

Steve’s seen you in plenty of dresses—hell, you went to prom together—but for some reason this one makes his heart beat just a little bit quicker. Maybe it’s simply the fact that it looks great on you, or the way you’re smiling shyly as he looks you over.

Or, maybe it’s because he’s the one who picked it.

He stands up, spinning his finger in the air in a gesture for you to twirl. You roll your eyes but do it anyway, and he can’t take his eyes off of you. The hallway of fitting rooms isn’t very big, so with both of you in it, you’re standing toe to toe, the gold flecks in the middle of Steve’s eyes and the faint freckles that dot his nose are visible from where you stand.

As if he can’t help it, Steve lifts a finger and dips it beneath the strap on your shoulder. Not moving it or undoing it, just gliding along your skin where it sits.

“You look beautiful,” he says. His voice goes all quiet and soft when he says it, and his eyes widen a tiny bit, like he hadn’t meant it to slip out that way. It sounded… more than friendly. He clears his throat and steps back as much as he can in the small space, his finger leaving your skin. “I have great taste. Clearly.”

You blink at him, then shake yourself out of it as much as you can. “Yeah. Don’t let it get to your head.” You lift the tag where it hangs by your armpit and look at the price. You gasp and swat Steve’s arm. “Steve! Why would you let me walk into a place so expensive?”

You probably should’ve looked at the tag beforehand, but here you are. Steve, shrugging exaggeratedly, says, “I didn’t know!”

“Okay, I’m gonna change before she comes back. We can make a run for it.”

“We’re not stealing.”

“I know, but they look at you all judgemental when you try stuff on and don’t buy something. Trust me.”

You turn and go back into the fitting room to put on your own clothes, taking a look at the dress in the mirror one last time before shaking your head at yourself.

Steve, however, takes the opportunity to leave you and head back out into the store. He finds the dress easily and grabs another one in your size from the rack and heads to the cashier.

He’s just finishing up, bag in hand, when you walk out and meet him at the front of the store.

“For you,” he says, holding out the bag for you to take.

“Steve…” You grab it and look inside. Your chest aches when you see the dress, your heart suddenly too full and your stomach fluttering stupidly. “You didn’t have to do that. I would’ve been fine with something from the Gap.”

“I know that,” he says, a hand lifting to scratch at the back of his neck. It’s a nervous tick of his, and the thought of him being nervous right now makes you melt even more. “I wanted to get it for you. You looked too pretty in it not to have it.”

Your eyes catch his, and again, something passes between you that you don’t think you’ve ever felt before. A fizzle, a spark.

You rock back on your feet, looking down at the ground before meeting his eyes again. They’re so fucking soft it makes you wonder how lucky you have to be to have him in your life. Being your best friend, driving you to work even when he doesn’t have a shift, offering you a place to stay, buying you a dress.

He’s the sweetest boy you’ve ever known.

“Well,” you twist the straps of the bag around your fingers just to keep them busy. “Thank you, Steve. This is really nice.”

His knuckle traces down your arm just once, featherlight. “You’re welcome, angel.”

You don’t buy anything else after that, instead stopping at the food court for fries, stealing from each other’s baskets, smiling and slapping hands away.

It’s the best day you’ve had in a while.

-

You don’t think anything you do will convey just how grateful you are that Steve has been so kind to you. Always, but especially now. Letting you stay with him and refusing to let you pay rent. (“I don’t even pay rent, and I live here all the time.”)

But, this morning, you’ve decided you’re gonna try.

Steve’s favorite meal of the day happens to be breakfast, which is funny, considering he usually eats something as simple as cereal. He’d told you once that it was because, as a kid, breakfast was the most peaceful of meals, his parents too busy getting ready for work or wherever they were going that he’d have the kitchen table to himself.

Lunch was usually spent at school, and Steve was never a fan of school to begin with. Then there was dinner, which his parents (when they were home) still wanted to have all together. They’d ask him questions and make backhanded comments about every single answer he gave. He never won at dinner.

So, breakfast was, and has remained, his favorite.

You made sure to get up early enough to give yourself time to get everything ready before he wakes up. Steve’s usually the one making the coffee in the morning, and you figured the least you could do was give him a break.

Yesterday, while Steve had been at work, you went over to the Wheeler’s and asked Nancy if you could borrow their waffle maker. She’d directed the question to her mother, who went and grabbed it for you and handed it over with a smile. You promised to take good care of it and have it back in a couple of days.

By the time Steve walks into the kitchen, you’ve already made the batter and set out the toppings—berries, maple syrup, whipped cream—like a buffet. However, he just so happens to come in as you’re swearing at the waffle maker.

“Stupid fucking thing,” you mutter, trying to open it.

Steve smiles to himself before saying, “Morning, angel.”

You jump at his voice, not having heard him walk in. When you turn around, your heart beats for a different reason.

Steve’s still only in his pajama pants, plaid and soft, hanging low on his hips. And he’s shirtless, his chest smattered with hair and his skin a little tanned from the sun. He’s got beauty marks all over, like a constellation you could chart, and his abs are just visible beneath the soft of his stomach. A trail of hair leading to the waistband of his pants and disappearing beneath them.

You’ve seen Steve shirtless plenty of times. Swimming and sleeping over in the summer, in high school when you used to go to his practices, but it hits you harder for some reason this time.

The way his hair is still a mess from sleep, his eyes a bit heavy. The way it feels to be greeting him in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. Intimate. Domestic.

You clear your throat and turn back around to pry the waffle maker open, revealing a slightly burnt but otherwise good-looking waffle. “I’m making breakfast. Coffee’s already in the pot, too.”

He walks over, his chest close to your back as he grabs a mug from the cabinet above you before heading over to pour himself a cup. He looks at the spread you’ve prepared, “Waffles, huh? What did I do to deserve all this?”

“Just wanted to do something nice for you,” you say as Steve walks over to lean against the counter next to you, his hip barely touching yours. “To thank you, in a way. For letting me stay and the dress and-”

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop thanking me?” He says, though his voice is soft and still a bit rough from sleep. “I like having you around.”

“So you don’t want the waffles then?”

“Oh, I want the waffles. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything for me. It’s not some debt you’ll owe me, angel.”

“Want you to know I appreciate you is all,” you say, pouring a new scoop of batter into the waffle maker.

Steve, unsure of what exactly possesses him to do so, dips in and presses a kiss to the apple of your cheek, his lips a whisper away from your skin when he says, “I appreciate you, too.”

Then he pulls away and moves to set the table. Like it was natural.

And it was, in a way. How you moved around each other in the kitchen. You leaning out of the way when he needed to reach something you were blocking, him putting a hand on your lower back when he walked behind you so you knew he was there.

Your cheek still tingles from where he’d kissed it when you bring the plate of waffles to the table, your skin somehow even warmer under his gaze, like he’s still remembering exactly how it felt, too.

You sit in the chair beside Steve, not noticing the way he tugs it a bit closer to him with his foot before you sit down. Soon enough, both of you are digging in. Steve’s got more whipped cream on his plate than waffle (you tell him as much) and you’ve got your berries on the side the way you always do.

Neither of you work until later in the day, and it’s nice knowing that you can take your time. Steve tells you about the advice he gave Dustin about how to be ‘cooler’ in school (he’d told him that being cool is completely overrated, he knew from experience, and that being himself is the most important). You’d told him he was going soft with age.

You talk about anything at all. How Keith somehow manages both of your places of work, how he also somehow does both terribly. The way he says ‘if you have time to lean, you have time to clean’ while literally having Cheeto dust on his fingers. Laughing at each other’s impressions of him.

What the new highscores were at the arcade, what people were renting from Family Video.

You wonder what it’ll be like when you have to leave. When you’re living alone again.

Logically, you know you’ll still see Steve frequently, because he’s your favorite person and you can’t remember the last time you went longer than a few days without hanging out. Still, it’ll be different than right now, waking up in the same space and sharing breakfast and brushing your teeth side by side in the mirror.

You’ll miss it, you think.

Trying not to dwell on something that’s still a few weeks away, you take another bite of your waffle. Steve catches your chin and wipes off a bit of whipped cream from the corner of your mouth, then pulling away and sucking it off his thumb.

He goes back to his own plate without a thought. Like touching you just now was an instinct.

Then, he teases you, “These are a little crispy, angel. Maybe you should stick to letting me make breakfast in this household.”

You kick his leg under the table. “That’s a funny way of saying ‘thank you,’ Harrington.”

He kicks you back, much gentler than you’d been. “Thank you.”

“That’s what I thought.”

When you look at him, there’s an easy, boyish smile on his face.

A similar one stretches across your own lips.

-

Steve has had the thought pop up into his head a couple of times, that maybe he should’ve just asked you to live with him before you ever bought that apartment. Because having you around feels the most right things have ever felt in his house.

And though the circumstances of your moving in with him (temporarily, he has to remind himself), were far from ideal, he can’t lie and say that he isn’t glad that you’ve ended up sharing his space.

The room across the hall will always be yours, even when you move back to your place.

He knows that you feel indebted to him for all of it, but if anyone owes the other something, he feels like it’s him. For everything you’ve ever done for him. Sticking around even when he was an asshole in highschool, defending him to his parents whenever you’d cross paths, simply being the kind of friend he needed.

Even when you’re not around, he can picture your face, the way your smile spreads slowly until you’re fucking beaming. Worse, the way you cried into his chest that day at your apartment.

He remembers the crack in your voice when you spoke about that picture frame from summer camp. Though he hasn’t seen you cry since, or even bring it up, he’s decided he wants to fix it. He’d told you he would.

Dustin wound up roped into his plan: find a similar frame, decorate it the exact same way, and scour the photo albums in Steve’s room for his copy of that same picture.

When he was younger, the photo albums pissed him off, because they were purely for show. Pictures of his family that were all fake smiles. Now, he’s glad for them, because at least he has some good memories to look back on. To know it wasn’t always all bad.

Steve probably should’ve thought that one through, because when they looked through his albums, he was on the receiving end of relentless teasing from Dustin. (“Dude, you have an insane boogie in this picture.” “I was four!”)

He hopes it’ll be worth it.

Dustin was the one who found the picture they’d been looking for, and he cheered and waved it in Steve’s face as if they’d been racing.

Now, after driving Dustin back home, decorating the frame the way the two of you did as kids, trying to make his handwriting look like it did back then (which wasn’t too difficult, ‘cause Steve’s writing still isn’t that neat), he’s waiting for you to come downstairs before giving it to you.

He’d picked you up after your shift at the arcade not too long ago, but he knows you like to shower and change as soon as you get home from work, so he’d taken the opportunity to wrap the frame and have it ready for you.

Steve can hear you singing in the shower, and he knows you’re done when it goes quiet. A few minutes later you’re walking down the stairs in a baggy t-shirt and silky sleep shorts.

His eyes, for some reason, linger on your legs for a second.

He stands up, frame in his hand, when you walk over. “I have something for you.”

“Steve! Stop buying me things. Seriously.”

“This thing was free, so you can’t even be mad,” he says, smiling almost sheepishly.

Your eyes search his face, flickering between his own and dipping down to his lips and his nose and back to his eyes. He looks… nervous.

Steve’s never nervous around you.

“Okay,” you say, shuffling on your feet. “What is it?”

“Here,” he hands you the poorly-wrapped frame. “Open it.”

You scrunch your brows at him once, because you have no idea what it could be. It isn’t your birthday, or any sort of holiday at all. With zero guesses, you look down at the light yellow wrapping paper in your hands and slowly tear it open.

What you find makes your eyes grow misty, tears pooling at your lash line but not quite falling.

It’s your favorite picture, the one of you and Steve in those stupid neon shirts with messy hair and dirt on your hands. Only now, it’s not water damaged, and the frame is new, but decorated just like the old one. You run your thumbs over the glass lightly, smiling down at little you and little Steve.

When you look back up at him, he’s already looking at you, his brown eyes all warm, his smile kind but also worried, waiting for your reaction.

Seeing his face springs you into motion, jumping forward and wrapping your arms around his neck tightly with the frame still in your hand. “Thank you,” you say into his skin.

Steve’s arms move to hold you around your waist without a thought. A reflex. They squeeze you close to him, his nose pressed into your damp hair, smelling your shampoo.

“It’s not perfect,” he says. “But I know how much you love that picture, and I wanted to fix it.”

“Steve. Shut up. It is perfect.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he says, his thumbs running back and forth against your back.

You hug for what could’ve been minutes, but neither of you moves to pull away first. You’re not sure if it’s still considered friendly to stand in each other's arms, breathing each other in, for so long, but you don’t care at the moment.

This is probably the nicest thing anyone’s done for you in a long, long time.

When you finally do pull away, you don’t go far. Your arms stay slung over his shoulders, Steve’s hands framing your hips. His thumbs still dragging those sweet patterns against you.

“I’m keeping it forever,” you tell him.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Certain. You’ll always be my best friend, Steve.”

“You’ll always be mine too, angel.”

Then, your eyes both move to each other’s lips, yours flick back up in a second, startled at their wandering.

Steve, however, is a bit transfixed. He looks at the slope of your cupid’s bow, the way your lips are shiny from your lip balm. He thinks it quickly, like a gust of wind that can’t be stopped: I really wanna kiss her right now.

Fuck. He wants to kiss his best friend.

He blinks a few times, clearing his throat and pulling back, letting his hands fall from your waist as yours slide off his shoulders. He misses the feel of your touch immediately, but he’s too freaked out and confused to do anything about it.

“What are you in the mood for tonight?” he asks, cutting off his own thoughts. “I brought back a horror and a comedy. Take your pick.”

“Mmm,” he picks up two tapes from the coffee table and holds them up for you to choose from. “Horror. Unless you’re too scared?”

“You’ll just have to hold my hand, then, won’t you?”

“I guess I will.”

You look back at the picture while Steve puts the movie into the player. You smile at it every time you see it, because you can still see parts of Steve in him now that were in him then.

His eyes, always kind, the way he smiles when he laughs, and about a half hour into the movie, the way he holds your hand and squeezes it when he’s scared.

-

You’re having one of those nights. The kind where sleep seems to be fighting you.

You worked a closing shift at the arcade, which usually lasts until late considering how long you’re open plus all of the cleaning you have to do afterwards. Today was no different, and despite how much later you finish than him at Family Video, Steve waited and drove you home. He hung out in the arcade with you until close, actually.

You’d think that after such a long day, the second your head hit the pillow you’d be out and breathing steadily. Today, that is not the case. You fell asleep for maybe an hour before a nightmare woke you up. You can’t quite remember what happened, only that you’d been yelling for Steve and he wasn’t there.

Groaning quietly, you rub your eyes and toss the blankets away. You stand up and head down to the kitchen in the dark, hand trailing along the walls to make sure you don’t bump into anything.

Just as you’re pouring yourself a glass of water, you hear the shuffle of sleepy footsteps coming into the kitchen.

“Holy shit,” he says, walking over to grab a glass, one hand on his bare chest. “I thought you were a ghost or something just now.”

You shift out of the way to let him get some water just like you did, taking the second that he’s distracted to look at him. His hair a mess, wearing nothing but his boxers. You take a big sip from your glass.

“I feel like I should be offended right now,” you say, “if you think I look like a ghost.”

“Shut up,” he says, dragging out the second word. His voice being rough from sleep makes his words sound much warmer than they are. “My eyes aren’t awake yet. Nothing to do with you, angel.”

You shake your head, though there’s a soft smile on your face the way there always seems to be when you try to be annoyed with Steve. You tilt your head at him, asking, “Couldn’t sleep?”

He shakes his head. “Been tossing and turning. Just can’t get comfortable, then I got pissed ‘cause I couldn’t get comfortable and only made it worse.”

“You would get pissed at that. Probably slapped your pillow like it was at fault.”

He folds his lips inwards and blinks at you. Because he did smack his pillow and call it a dipshit. “Why do you know everything? Spying on me?”

“Hate to say it, but you’re getting predictable, Harrington.” You shrug, then move to put your now empty glass in the dishwasher. “I know you too well.”

He looks at you, your hair falling across your shoulders, your pajama shorts riding up a little as you bend down. The moonlight slipping through the window seems to hit you perfectly. Like a halo.

Fitting, he thinks. You’re his angel, after all.

“Yeah, you do,” he agrees. Then, “What about you? Why’re you up?”

“Nightmare. Been forever since I had one.”

“You okay?” he asks, trailing a knuckle over your shoulder, pushing your hair behind it.

“Yeah,” you say, skin tingling where he’d touched you. “I can't even remember most of it, but now my brain won’t let me sleep.”

Steve wishes he could’ve protected you from whatever haunted you in your sleep. It’s silly, he knows, to think he might be able to ward away anything that hurts you, but he wants to, nonetheless.

He thinks about how comfortable he is whenever you cuddle during movie night. Your head on his shoulder or his chest, his hand on your back or waist.

So, he blurts, “Why don’t you sleep over?”

You furrow your brows at him, “Um, I’ve been sleeping over. A couple of weeks now, actually.”

“No, I mean, like in my room with me,” he says, suddenly shy at the idea. He’s grateful for the darkness, because he can feel his cheeks warming up. “A proper sleepover.”

You’ve done it before. Shared a bed a bunch of times, but for some reason your heart jumps when he says it. Your stomach swirls as you say, maybe a little too quickly, “Okay.”

Steve’s eyes widen like he’s surprised, just for a split second, before a soft smile takes over his face. He holds out a hand for you to take, “C’mon.”

Soon enough, Steve’s lifting his navy bedspread for you, letting you slip into bed next to him. He stays further away at first, letting you settle and lay on your side the way he knows you always do.

You blame sleepiness—or, maybe, the lack thereof—for the way you reach behind you for his arm and tug him closer, draping it over your own waist.

He obliges, of course, his arm securing itself across your stomach, palm spread out and warm against your sleep shirt. His chest is only a breath away from your back, though he keeps his lower half a little more distanced.

His thumb runs circles over your shirt, once, twice, three times before stilling, his forehead pressing to the back of your neck.

“Goodnight, angel,” he says into your hair.

Your hand splays itself on top of his. “Night, Steve.”

And suddenly your eyes grow heavier, and sleep doesn’t feel like much of a battle anymore.

-

You wake up the most rested you’ve felt in a while. There’s warmth surrounding you, but not the uncomfortable kind. The kind that feels safe.

Somehow, you and Steve are even closer than you’d been when you fell asleep. His arm is still around your waist, his other outstretched and tucked beneath your head like a pillow. His chest is flush to your back, and you can feel it expand with every breath he takes.

Most differently of all, however, is the way his hips are snug against the curve of your butt. And you can feel him hard against you.

Your skin feels even warmer than before when you notice.

Steve hasn’t woken up yet, you don’t think, because the faintest snores are getting puffed out against your shoulder where his face is tucked. His hand on your stomach has worked its way beneath your shirt, though, and his fingertips press against your skin, like he’s fighting to keep you close.

As if you’d go anywhere even in your sleep.

His knee is tucked between your legs, and you’re quickly realizing that it’d be pretty impossible to get out of bed without him noticing. You’re completely tangled together, a knot of limbs somehow fitting together just right. Like two puzzle pieces.

In his sleep, Steve’s mouth presses against the back of your shoulder, and only when you involuntarily shiver at the contact, does he stir.

It takes Steve a bit to really wake up, mumbling words that don’t make sense, scrunching his eyes shut even further before blinking them open. He’s met with the sight of you right in front of him. Body curved perfectly against his.

“Steve? You awake?” you ask, checking.

“Mhm,” he hums.

Then, something that has his cheeks flushing pink, he registers the feeling of his boner pressed against your ass. He shuffles them back enough so there’s space between you. “Fuck. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say. Because he can’t control the way his body reacts while he’s asleep.

“I didn’t think-” he cuts himself off, because he’s not quite sure how to say I didn’t think about the whole morning wood factor or that I’d fucking plaster myself to you when I suggested a sleepover without sounding stupid. Instead, he just repeats, “I’m sorry.”

You twist yourself around to face him, sheets crumpling and twisting as you move. When you settle back onto the pillow and look at his face, at the redness on his cheeks and the tips of his ears, you squeeze his hand that’s now laying between you.

“It’s okay, really,” you say. “It’s, like, anatomy. You’re human, Steve.”

“I don’t want you to think I invited you to sleep in here for some pervy reason,” he says, scrunching his nose when he says it.

“I don’t think that at all,” you tell him. You squeeze his hand again. “We’ve shared a bed like, a hundred times by now. If anything I’m surprised this hasn’t happened already.”

“Oh my God,” he groans, shutting his eyes and pushing his face into the pillow.

“Steve,” you drag out his name, fighting a giggle at the way he’s acting. He’s got a reputation, after all, and how shy and embarrassed he seems to be doesn’t reflect the things you heard about him in high school. He’s changed a lot since then. “It’s seriously fine. We can pretend it never happened. Promise.”

Steve pulls his face from the pillow, eyes catching yours as his fingers squeeze yours back in appreciation. He lets his eyes wander a bit, at the messy bits of your hair around your face from sleeping, the marks in your cheek from the pillowcase, the way your sleep shirt has fallen off your shoulder.

He feels lucky to get to see you this way, right after you’ve woken up. Vulnerable, unguarded, beautiful.

It’s during this small stretch of silence that you realize how close your faces are now. You’re sharing a pillow, his nose not even an inch from yours. Shift forward the slightest bit, and they’d be touching. Your eyes trail down to his mouth, to the visible patch of chest hair and the freckles that dot his skin. He’s already looking right at you when your eyes flick back upwards.

You know Steve, could tell what he’s feeling just from the look on his face, but this is one you’ve never seen before. At least, not directed at you.

Steve moves first, his eyes a little darker than usual, shifting forward slightly, then looking at you. Daring you to make the next move.

“What if we didn’t forget about it?” he says. Quiet and scratchy.

You don’t have time to think before you move forward a bit, too. Your noses brush. “What would that mean?”

Steve doesn’t answer with words. Rather, he moves forward the final bit and brushes his lips against yours in a question mark of a kiss, giving you time to pull away.

You don’t.

Instead, the hand of yours that isn’t still holding his comes up to the back of his neck, gently encouraging him to do it again. His free hand tightens at your waist as he dips in a second time.

It isn’t as tentative now that you’ve urged him on. His lips meet yours more sure, more firm, but still soft against you. Neither of you cares one bit about morning breath, or about what this might change. As if the morning’s haze slows time, minds still a little sleepy.

You’re simply acting on instinct. And this feels too right to stop.

Soon enough it grows more heated, Steve shifting to hover over you, his elbows pushing into the mattress to hold himself up, his tongue sneaking out to lick against the seam of your lips for permission.

Just as you open up for him, the blaring sound of Steve's alarm cuts you off, pulling back with a gasp. He simply leans up on one arm and slams the snooze button—and you laugh, you laugh, at how hard he hits it—before diving back into you.

You feel hot all over, where one of Steve’s hands has moved to cup your jaw, his thumb running delicately against your face as his mouth moves against yours, practically devouring you. Where the blankets are still over your lower halves, trapping in heat. When he pulls back, looks into your eyes, fucking smiles all dopey and pretty, and then kisses you again.

It’s so good, you’re almost angry at yourself for not kissing him sooner.

You kiss until his alarm goes off again and Steve's forced to pry himself away from you, groaning about being on his ‘last tardy warning’ from Keith.

Still, he takes the time to kiss your forehead on his way out, Family Video vest slung over his shoulder, calling a sweet, “bye, angel,” on his way out. His hair’s still a mess from your fingers, and he doesn’t even seem to mind.

You stay in his bed longer than you probably should, blinking up at the ceiling, fingers pressed against your lips like you’re searching for physical proof that everything was real.

What the fuck just happened?

-

It’s been a couple of weeks, and Steve can’t stop thinking about that kiss. He doesn’t know it, but you can’t stop thinking about it either.

Neither of you have brought it up, and things have faded back to normal as if it had never happened. But you and Steve are both thinking the same things without knowing it. How good and natural and easy it felt, how, every now and then, you think about doing it again.

You talk and joke and watch movies and eat meals together the same way you always have, and it’d be so easy to stay that way, to never kiss again. But then, what if you could stay that way and kiss? Wouldn’t that be something close to perfect?

You lay awake thinking about it every few nights. Because, when you really reflect on your life and how intertwined it is with Steve’s, you realize that you’ve sort of always acted like a couple, minus the kissing and sex aspect. You go on what could easily be classified as dates—the movies, lunch or dinner—you cuddle on the couch almost nightly, and you’ve never shied away from physical touch with one another. Held hands, a palm on your back.

You haven’t brought it up with Steve because you haven’t even come to terms with it yourself. Feelings are so fucking confusing and messy and you’d like to have a better idea of what’s going on in your own head before asking him about his.

Meanwhile, Steve has allowed himself to come to terms with it. He’s in love with you.

He’s pretty sure he has been for a while. Months, maybe even years.

It hadn’t come easily, though. It was nights spent similarly to yours, running through interactions you’ve had and the way he felt that one time in senior year when you went on a date with some guy from your math class. Even then, a part of him felt wrong about it, that pit in his gut.

Then there were his shifts with Robin at Family Video where he’d practically spilled everything just to get her opinion. She looked up and sighed “thank you” before saying that it was nice of him to finally catch on.

Had he really been that obvious? All this time? And had he really been that oblivious to his own feelings?

Steve can’t answer those questions. He can’t say when his love for you changed from platonic to romantic, he just knows that it has and he doesn’t think he’ll ever come back from it.

You’re his best friend in the entire world, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, and he can’t picture himself loving anyone but you so wholly.

He’s fucking terrified of losing you, but he’s also terrified of never telling you how he feels and testing that what if.

So, like a desperate idiot, he knocks on the door to Eddie’s trailer.

Eddie opens it after a minute and what sounded like him stubbing his toe, “oh, hey Harrington. More weed?”

“No, shut up. I need your help.”

“You,” Eddie points at Steve, then at himself, “need my help for something? Are you ill?”

“Okay,” Steve, dramatic and bitchy as usual, sighs and mutters something about this being a stupid idea and turns to leave.

“Come on,” Eddie laughs, “I’m just joking. What’s up?”

Soon enough, Steve’s sitting on Eddie’s couch, Eddie pacing in front of the coffee table like this is a very serious matter, and telling him pretty much everything. Your kiss, the train of thought it sparked.

“Basically I’m in love with her and I have no clue what to do,” Steve finishes, sinking back into the couch cushions. It squeaks as he shifts.

Eddie pauses, tugging at his bottom lip between his fingers, then looks at Steve and says, “You know I’ve never dated anyone in my life, right?”

Steve groans into his hands, “Why do all of my friends have to be losers with no dating lives.”

Eddie ignores that, because he can tell how affected Steve actually is by all of this. How much he cares. He walks over and sits down on the opposite end of the couch. “Have you ever thought of, I don’t know, telling her how you feel?”

Steve rests his elbows on his knees, leaning forward and letting his head hang for a moment before picking it up. “Of course I have, but I’m fuckin’ scared.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Um, she could reject me and not feel the same way and everything would be awkward because I ruined it and I’d lose my best friend in the entire world.”

“What if she does feel the same?” Eddie asks.

He’s both yours and Steve’s friend, he’s been around the both of you together. He’s seen the way you look at each other. Eddie might not be an expert, but it’s always looked a lot like love to him. He’s pretty sure the chances of you feeling the same are quite high.

“What do you mean?”

“What if she does feel the same and you never figure it out because you’re too afraid?” Eddie says. “Man, don’t you think that risk is worth taking?”

Steve thinks about it, and as much as he hates to admit it, Eddie’s right. He’d hate to always wonder, to lose out on the chance to really be with you when he knows it could be so good.

You are worth the risk to him.

“When the fuck did you become so wise, Munson?”

“Dunno,” Eddie shrugs. “Wanna smoke?”

Steve laughs, “Yes I do.”

-

With Steve gone at work and you off for the day, there’s been too much room for your thoughts to creep in. Too much silence.

You’ve already been thinking about things so much. Thinking about him so much, that in his absence, your mind seemed to work overtime to fill in the gaps.

You thought about the day he picked you up from your apartment, how quick he was to drop whatever he’d been doing and come over and help you and take you home with him. The day he took you shopping and bought you a dress because he thought you looked pretty in it, the way his fingers fiddled with the strap on your shoulder when you tried it on for him.

The day he gifted you a remade version of your favorite picture from summer camp because he knew how much it meant to you, the way you held on to each other afterwards.

How you’d been waiting for him to get home that night he went to Eddie’s, just to make sure he was okay. How when he came in, he smiled at the sight of you curled on the couch, and he kissed your cheek when he walked by like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Your brain knew he was high, you could smell the weed mingling with his cologne on his clothes when he leaned in close, but your heart didn’t care about that. It thumped in your chest the second he leaned in closer, even worse when his lips touched your cheek.

The realization hits you now like a shock, a quick zip of electricity running through your system. You fucking love him.

Sure, you’ve loved Steve practically your whole life, but this was different. You love him, love him. Like, you want to kiss him when he comes home from work and in the morning. You want him to introduce you as his girlfriend and to be able to call him your boyfriend.

You feel stupid for not realizing it sooner, because looking back on things now, knowing how you feel, you can see it written throughout your entire friendship. Holding hands and kissing foreheads and hands pushing hair away from faces.

For a second, you’re purely happy, because you get to be in love with your best friend and it feels as warm and sweet as sunlight. Then, the fear creeps in, and you’re scared. Scared of losing him, of making things weird, of change and doing the wrong thing.

So scared that you start to panic and pack up some of your things in your bag like you’re running away.

Truthfully, you’re not sure what else to do. You’ve never been in love before, you’ve never known it this way—so kind and unconditional. And your parents sure as hell didn’t set a good example for you. They’d fight, and someone would leave with the slam of a door, and then they’d be back and the cycle would continue.

You’re scared and confused and your instincts are telling you to run away even though the only place you really wanna be is with Steve. In his arms.

You’re stuffing clothes into your bag just to keep your hands busy, breathing hard and fast, when you hear the front door open and close. Steve’s quick to find you, his eyes scanning your room and then looking at you. “What are you doing?”

You feel like you might cry just looking at him. His brown eyes worried but warm as always, his hands stuffed into his pockets like he’s nervous.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be home until later,” you say, hoping he can’t hear the shake in your voice.

“It was dead, so Keith let me off early. I-” Steve furrows his brows, “are you leaving?”

You nod. “I’ve been in your way long enough.”

“I told you, you’re never in my way.” Steve knows you, and he loves you, and he can tell that there’s something going on. That you’re panicked and trying to get away from whatever it is. He cares too much to let that happen. “I want you to stay.”

You want to stay, too. You just don’t know what comes next, and that unknown, the lack of control, of familiarity, it makes your hands shake.

Your mind doesn’t work the same when you’re afraid.

“Give me one good reason why I should stay, Steve. I’ve been taking up your space for weeks and-”

“Because I love you.” Steve cuts you off. He hadn’t planned on telling you this way, he wanted it to be romantic and perfect but he can’t wait any longer. Especially not when you’re trying to run away. “I’m in love with you. And I want you here.”

You immediately stop in your tracks, blinking up at him like you’re not sure you’d heard him correctly. “You- what?”

“I love you. Romantically. And I think I have for a really long time.”

“You’re not high again, are you?” You ask, your eyes a little misty.

Steve walks over to you and grabs both of your hands in his, making sure you’re looking at him, at the sincerity written all over his face, when he says, “Completely sober. I fucking love you and I want you to keep living with me, because this house doesn’t really feel like home unless you’re in it.”

“What about when my apartment is ready?”

He squeezes your hands. “Stay then, too. Stay forever.”

You look up at him, his hair falling over his forehead, his eyes so honest, a tentative smile on his mouth. The only boy you’ve ever loved.

You feel silly for trying to escape this when this is how it’s turning out. Steve had been brave just now, telling you he loves you and he wants you to stay, so you decide to be brave, too.

It’s easier than you thought it would be to say: “I love you, too, Steve. I feel the same. I only just realized it and freaked out. I’m so scared of losing you, is all.”

“You won’t. Not ever.”

You tip your chin up to kiss him after he says it, because you can. You pour your feelings into it, and Steve returns your kiss as if it’s one he’s known for years. It’s slow, and deep, and sweet, and so full of love you’re practically overflowing with it.

The two of you only pull away when you need a breather. Steve doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against yours.

“So what happens now?” You ask.

“Well, we’ve been acting like a couple for a while, I think, so we stay the same. Mostly. Except now I get to call you my girlfriend-”

“Um, I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to ask me first.”

He lets go of one of your hands and pushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckle running lovingly across your cheek. “My angel girl, will you be my girlfriend?”

Your grin is wide and lovesick and cheesy and you don’t care one bit. “Yeah, yes I will. Boyfriend.”

“And, being your boyfriend means I get to do this.”

He kisses you once more. And you don’t ever want to not be kissing him again.

𝜗𝜚

thank you guys so much for reading!!! it would mean a whole bunch if you would consider leaving a comment or a reblog and letting me know what you think!! it helps more than you know <3

[starkeysprincess]

⟢ JUST FOR THE NIGHT

presenting kinktober day 4 ➔︎ rafe x reader x trevor

warnings: threesome, double vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, oral (f & m receiving), degrading, praise, squirting, creampie, slight breeding, 18+ mdni word count: 2.8k a/n: rafe's dialogue is in bold + trevor's is in italics (warning that this is my first time writing a threesome)

kinktober m.list ⟡ rafe m.list ⟡ main m.list

you and your boyfriend, trevor, were at some random halloween party that a friend of yours invited you to. you weren’t familiar with who lived in the big house other than knowing you were in figure eight, but you didn’t care, you were merely here to have fun. throughout the night, you began to let loose due to the number of shots you and trevor had consumed.

your ears perked at your favorite song playing, and you squealed, dragging your boyfriend through the crowd of bodies. trevor wrapped his arms around your waist, “god, you look so sexy, baby,” he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. he nuzzled his face into the side of your neck, his soft lips peppering kisses along your neck to your shoulder as both of you move to the music.

his hands roamed up and down your waist, resting under your tits, and you hummed to the song as your eyes drifted to see a tall blonde, who looked identical to your boyfriend, watching the two of you. your eyes meet rafe’s as he sips his drink, his eyes raking up and down your body, and you can see the corner of his lip twitching upwards when he sees trevor walking away before quickly downing what was left in the red solo cup and setting it aside to make his way to you. 

“what do we have here? little red riding hood, huh?” rafe smirked, his tongue poking out to wet his bottom lip, taking in your costume. his index finger trailed over the top of your dress, right above your tits, “you’re a pretty little thing,” he paused, “you know, i’ve been watching you since the minute you stepped foot into my house.”. 

“your house?” you furrowed your eyebrows, “mhm, what? you don’t know who i am?” he wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you into his hard, muscular chest, swaying you along with the music. you shook your head and a laugh rumbled in his chest, “you’re in tannyhill, does that ring a bell in that pretty head of yours?”.

“no, i’m not a local, just here with my boyfriend for a few weeks to visit a friend,” you muttered, “just visiting a friend, huh? and where did your boyfriend run off to?” he hummed. before you could respond, you felt a second pair of hands on your hips, “who’s your friend, baby?” trevor rasped, pressing himself against you. 

you stared at the man in front of you, realizing you never caught his name, “rafe,” he introduced himself to both you and your boyfriend. you craned your neck to look back at trevor to see he was looking back and forth between you and rafe, noticing how your eyes were glazed over and taking note of your bottom lip sucked between your teeth when you looked at rafe. he knew the look on your face all too well and leaned forward to whisper in your ear, “you could deny it all you want, but i know that look a little too well. you want him to fuck you, don’t you?”. 

you chewed on your lip anxiously, glancing over at rafe, who had an amused look on his face and was trying to decipher your facial expression. sure, you and trevor briefly mentioned wanting to try something new, but the thought didn’t stop you from rubbing your thighs together.  

“it’s okay if you do, baby. i could share you for one night,” your boyfriend whispered. “are you sure?” you hesitated, unsure whether he was serious since the two of you had never acted on the idea before. “mhm, i‘m sure. wanna know why? because you’re mine, and at the end of the night, you’re coming home with me, no one else,” trevor reassured, his hands rubbing up and down the sides of your waist. 

“we can try it, only if you want to. i don’t want you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with,” trevor murmured. his reassurance made your heart flutter, and you gave him a small nod, “i’m not uncomfortable, i do want to try, i’m just nervous.” 

it didn’t take much to convince rafe, who had a smug look etched on his face; all he had to hear from your boyfriend was, “heard that, cameron? my girl wants you to join,” before he led the two of you upstairs to his bedroom. once the three of you entered the room, rafe locked the door.

in a matter of seconds, you were sandwiched between both men with trevor’s lips on yours while rafe led wet, open-mouthed kisses on the column of your neck. rafe’s hands slide up your waist, cupping and squeezing your tits through your costume as they both back you to the edge of the bed. trevor worked at the zipper of your costume, unzipping it and shrugging it off your shoulders, letting it pool onto the floor, leaving you in only your lace thong and knee-high socks. he pulled away to lay back on the bed, “c’mere, wanna feel your sweet cunt on my tongue.”.

his fingers hooked into the waistband of your thong, pulling them down and tossing them to rafe, who stuffs them into the pocket of his pants. you swung your leg over trevor’s torso, and he grabbed your hips, yanking you back until your glistening cunt hovered over his face. “oh—“ a small squeak erupts from your throat when he licks a stripe along your slick folds, flattening his tongue. your hips bucked forward when he flicked and swirled his tongue onto your clit, “go on, baby, make rafe feel good while i eat this pretty pussy.”.

rafe‘s fingers thread through your hair, holding your head upright as he kicks his pants and boxers aside. his cock sprung out, slapping against his lower abdomen, and your mouth couldn’t help but water at the sight of his hard, veiny cock. he teasingly slaps the head of his cock against your lips, coating them with his precum, “be a good girl and open your mouth.”. 

you part your lips, letting your tongue dart out to lick at the bead of precum before swirling your tongue around his tip. he tugs at the roots of your hair, sinking his length deeper into your warm, wet mouth, “fuck, knew you’d look pretty with your mouth stuffed full.”.

trevor’s arms hooked over your thighs, pinning them down, his tongue working in tandem when your hips moved feverishly against his mouth. “shit–” rafe grunts, feeling your throat constrict around him when trevor’s tongue slips inside you, his nose grinding against your swollen clit. “you like that, baby? like having your pussy ate while sucking dick?” your boyfriend groaned. 

you mumbled incoherently around rafe in response, your tongue running along the underside of his cock as tears well in your eyes from rafe pushing your head further down, his tip hitting the back of your throat as he brutally fucks your mouth. his grip tightens on your hair when you try to pull away as you gag around him.

your muffled moans increasingly become more persistent as trevor skillfully works his tongue, flicking and sucking your sensitive bundle of nerves. you pathetically rut against trevor’s mouth, your legs trembling, feeling the tightening in your stomach growing tenfold and crying out as your orgasm washes over you.

the sight of your mascara-stained face was enough to send rafe over the edge, “shit, ‘m gonna cum,” he panted. his hips faltering, your nose tickling the small patch of hair resting below his belly button as he pushes his dick deep into your mouth, shooting thick ropes of cum down your throat.

he pulled away, swiping his thumb against the string of spit that connected between your lips and his tip. he collected the small amount of cum that dribbled out before pushing his thumb into your mouth, groaning when you sucked it clean, “good girl, so eager to please, huh?”. 

you bit your lip before gasping when trevor tossed you onto your back, kissing his way up your body to your lips, “did so fuckin’ good, baby,” he praised, capturing your lips in a soft kiss. you moaned at the taste of yourself on his tongue, whining and sitting up when he broke the kiss at rafe’s words, “bet that pretty little cunt feels even better than your mouth.”.

“i don’t think so, cameron, you can fuck her ass. her pussy was only made for me; it’s off-limits,” trevor snorted. you look between both men, your gaze settling on your boyfriend as you jut your bottom lip out, pouting at him, “trevor, it’s just for the night. you said you were sure and even said it yourself by the end of the night, i’m going home with you because i’m yours, remember?”.

his cerulean blue eyes softened at your pout, frowning to himself because not only did you use his words against him but because he knew you were right. “fine—but the only way cameron gets to fuck what’s mine is if we both do at the same time.”.

rafe chuckles at the idea, “shit, i don’t care as long as i get to feel her wrapped around me.”.

“w-what?” your eyes widened in disbelief, understanding exactly what he was indicating, “i don’t know if that's a good idea…i don’t think i could handle both of you.” 

“c’mon, baby, you were just pouting f’me to let rafe fuck you, and you want both of us,” trevor pointed out, “just trying to give your greedy little cunt what it wants.”.

you were teetering on the edge of the idea, not thinking you could take both of them. still, it didn’t stop your arousal from growing and sticking to your inner thighs, eager to at least give it a try. “atta girl, don’t worry, we’ll take good care of you,” rafe cooed, his thumb tugging at your bottom lip. 

the two swiftly discard the rest of their clothes before trevor lays flat on his back, your legs straddling either side of his hips as he pulls you on top of him. his hands rested on your hips, lifting you, and he gripped the base of his cock, lining himself with your sopping hole. you lower yourself onto him, your walls swallowing around him, sucking him in deeper as his cock splits you open. 

trevor rolled his hips into yours when he felt your body tense at the feeling of the mattress dipping under rafe’s weight as he climbed behind you.“s’okay, just gonna stretch you out for both of us,” rafe murmured, his large palm traveling up your back, pushing at your spine until your tits were pressed against your boyfriend’s chest. you felt his fingers run along your inner thighs, gasping when he slowly slipped his finger into your already stuffed cunt. 

rafe slowly moved his finger in and out of you; his gaze fixated on your facial expressions before adding another finger. your body wasn’t accustomed to the feeling, but you couldn’t deny how good it felt when he gently moved his middle and ring fingers, stretching you further. "you ready for more, princess?”. 

“y-yes,” you breathed out, nodding and looking at rafe over your shoulder while trevor’s lips trailed wet kisses from your jaw to neck, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles onto your hips as rafe removed his fingers and settled behind you. rafe spreads your ass cheeks to give him better access and lets a glob of his spit land where you and trevor are joined. 

“shit, princess…pussy is already stuffed full, don’t think there’s any room for me. you sure this tight little hole can take both of us?” rafe teases, running the thick head of his cock up and down your folds. a sharp whimper slips past your lips, burying your face into the crook of your boyfriend’s neck when rafe slowly pushes his tip in. 

your brain short-circuited as rafe slides himself in, pushing his hips forward till his pelvis is flush against your ass, his cock stretching you further than it already was before the two started to slowly thrust into you, allowing your body to grow accustomed to the feeling of both of their cocks inside you.

your whimpers bounce off the walls of rafe’s bedroom, the burning sensation of your pussy being stretched and filled past its limit subsiding as they go back and forth, their cocks steadily moving in and out of you simultaneously.

“such a greedy little slut, your boyfriend doesn’t leave you satisfied, or his dick isn’t enough for you?” rafe taunts, trying to piss your boyfriend off. you squeaked when trevor’s fingers dug into the flesh of your waist, his feet planted onto the firm mattress to harshly thrust up into you, “should be fuckin’ lucky i’m even letting you fuck her, cameron.”. 

your pussy squelches around their cocks as rafe pounds into you mercilessly. his hips snapping against your ass, watching the fatty flesh jiggle, “goddamn, princess, you’re soakin’ my cock. you like this, don’t you? like having your pretty hole stretched and fucked by two cocks?”.

you tried to sit up, only for rafe’s hand to lay flat on your back, holding you on top of trevor. you could feel tears well in your eyes, your nails biting into the skin of trevor’s biceps, leaving crescent-shaped marks as they pushed in and out of your soaked cunt. trevor’s fingers run through your hair, gently tugging your head away from his neck to capture your lips, his tongue pushing into your mouth, swallowing each moan and whimper that slipped from your lips.

“look at you…takin’ both of us at once like the filthy little slut you are,” he groaned, sucking and biting your plump, swollen lips.

you yelp abruptly when rafe’s large palm slaps your ass, your skin stinging from his signet ring catching against your skin. he grabs your hair, twisting it around his wrist to pull your head back. his lips brush against your ear, biting at the lobe, “you just wanna be our little fucktoy for the night, yeah?”.

“yes!” you sob out, their hips smacking into yours, pounding into your cunt relentlessly. their cocks deliciously dragging against your walls with each harsh thrust they give. your eyes squeeze shut when trevor’s hand snakes up your waist to your neck, firmly gripping your throat, forcing you to look him in the eyes, “keep those pretty eyes open, baby.”.

“s’too much,” you whimpered, “shh, you can take it. you’re doing so fuckin’ good,” his thumb prodded your bottom lip, shoving it into your mouth, watching you suck. the persistent abuse on your cervix caused by their cocks had your head spinning, barely able to muster a single thought, let alone words. you couldn’t help but moan around his thumb when rafe slipped his hand around to reach between your thighs, the pads of his fingers deftly rubbing tight circles on your puffy clit. 

the familiar tightening in your stomach had you clenching around them, “you wanna cum for us?” rafe grunted in your ear, his fingers never letting up. your vision blurs, tears streaming down your face, nodding frantically as it all becomes too overwhelming for your poor cunt to handle. 

“we’ll fill you up so fuckin’ good. just be a good girl and cum for us,” trevor rasps, looking up at you, his nails almost breaking skin from his bruising grip on your hips. your walls convulse around them, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your legs shaking uncontrollably at the intense pressure between your thighs. cries of pleasure erupt from your throat, wetness pooling your inner thighs and soaking their cocks.

“oh, fuck—” both men groaned as you collapsed onto trevor’s chest, too fucked out to realize you squirted. 

you could tell rafe was close, his thrusts growing sloppy, and his hips stuttered, giving you a few more thrusts. a strangled moan slips from his mouth, spilling himself inside you, and painting your walls white. you squirm, reaching out to hold onto rafe’s forearm as trevor holds you steady, snapping his hips up into you as he chases after his release, “gonna stuff this perfect cunt full with my cum.”. 

“p-please—“ you mewl; your desperate whimpers and pleas to be stuffed full sent your boyfriend over the edge, pushing his cock deep into your abused cunt, moaning as he empties himself inside you, stuffing you full with his thick cum. 

the room fell silent, only the sounds of the three of you panting filled the room. you stayed on top of trevor, nuzzling your face into the side of his neck in an attempt to catch your breath as he kissed your head, whispering praises into your ear.

you writhed as rafe pulled out and collapsed onto the bed before turning his head to look at the two of you, his chest heaving as he licked his lips, “you gonna let me have her to myself next time?”.

trevor grabs a pillow off the bed, chucking it at him, “next time? fat fuckin’ chance, cameron. you’re lucky you even got a chance.”.

tag list: @oceandriveab @babygorewhore @cameronsprincess @starkeysbabygirl @rafecameroninterlude @starkeygirlposts @xxbimbobunnyxx @fae-of-prey @heartsforvin @sturnioloshacker @zyafics @sematarygirls @drewsarms @nemesyaaa @fallbhind @rafesthroatbaby @hallecarey1 @fallrafwe @sturnskiss @blckbrrybasket @rafeyscurtainbangs @wearemadeofstardust0 @honeybunniesoobin @starkeysbebe @spid6y @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @amandabbbbb @kisses4angels @starkeysheart @rafeinterlude @starkeyisthelastname @flvredcas @emilysuperswag @mackenzie-maybank @hyperfixationgirl @ijustwanttoreadlols @slumnit @cl4uus @coco-cinnamon @zayluvss @stoned-writer

[avocado-writing]

Hi Avo! Could you please consider writing a protective poly logan and wade x reader? Maybe something happens they weren’t there but when they show up deadpool is distracting/comforting the reader and logan is going ham on the enemy. ploy or separate is up to you!

Just a thought! Enjoying your work as always! ✨anon

deadpool: look how I spell it “grey” because the writer is english! Crazy logan: what?

It’s Logan who sweeps you up. You know it is, because he’s a solid wall of a man under your hands where you’ve buried into him. His chest is warm and reassuring; you focus on it, trying to ground yourself even though you can taste your pulse thrumming in terror.

“It’s okay, baby. We’ve got you,” he mutters under his breath, a growl in your ear, a tender little secret of his softness shared between the two of you. 

It had all been so sudden. You’d been taking the shortcut home after going shopping for tonight’s dinner when you’d felt someone grab you. Tomatoes had rolled across the ground, cans denting loudly as they fell, and you’d been dragged towards the back of the van as your captors loudly discussed if they had the right person. They said something about you fucking two mutants, and the bile with which they had spat it chilled you. 

You’d been certain you were going to die. Cold fear flooded you, your eyes squeezed closed tight. Please, don’t let Logan and Wade find my body. They won’t be able to take it. If these guys are gonna kill me, let me just disappear. 

Then again, that was before the claws came through the metal of the roof and all hell had broken loose. Guns went off and you screamed, unsure if they were Wade’s or not - but strong arms had picked you up and hauled you to safety. 

You feel yourself being passed to someone else, Logan pushing you into Wade’s grip and giving him strict instructions to look after you, then he’s gone. The sounds of violence continue and, without thinking, you turn to look. 

“Oh, no, honey, you don't need to see that. That’s just… plain disgusting,” says Wade, grimacing, “even looking at this mess is better than seeing what Peanut’s doing to those guys.”

Upon the word ‘mess’, he gestures to himself. Despite your heart hammering against your ribs, you reach up to press your hand against his cheek. 

“Don’t talk about yourself like that, Wade. You came to save me.”

A flit of confusion crosses his face, knocking his usual bravado. 

“You thought we’d just let them bundle you into their ‘not allowed within five hundred feet of schools’ van and disappear? Give us some credit. We’re not white knights, but we’re at least, y’know, morally grey knights.”

He says this to make you laugh, and it works. You’re distracted as the sounds of screams literally die out and Logan stalks back over. You see him removing his jacket to hide the blood on it from you. It’s still spread across his knuckles, though, a masterpiece of the revenge he just enacted. 

“Don’t worry about them. They won’t be bothering you again,” he says with an air of finality. His hand raises to cup your face, so gentle with you, such a contrast to moments before. His voice is laced with a tenderness when he asks, “you doing okay?”

You nod. Yeah. With them here, you are doing okay. 

“Thanks,” you manage, shakily, adrenaline leaving your body to give way to fat, rolling tears of relief. Not missing a beat, Wade looks Logan up and down. 

“Hey, there’s still some viscera on your shirt, Peanut. Maybe you should take that off, too?”

“Watch it, bub,” he growls, but you can tell his heart isn’t really in it. They’re both just thankful that you’re safe. 

Your heroes, both of them. Morally grey or otherwise.

[wwooyology]

Just Trust Me | J.WY

「pairing」 : wooyoung x fem!reader 「word count」 : 12.8k

「synopsis」 : you were in the woods one day when you came across an injured wooyoung who was being chased by hunters. he had expected you to turn him in, but to his surprise, you didn't; you led them away before offering to help him. however, this was only going to be the beginning for you and him.

「genre」 : hybrid!au, fox hybrid!wooyoung, human!reader, angst, fluff, smut

「warning」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, blood, mentions of guns, cussing, wooyoung has severe trust issues with humans, reader stitches his wound, mentions of abuse, familial issues, violence, petnames (sweetheart, baby, babydoll, love, my love...), kissing, rough makeout, unprotected sex, breast play, bulge kink, breeding, creampie, knotting, biting/marking, fingering, cum eating, clit play, overstimulation, cockwarming, mentions of war, wooyoung is unsure in the beginning, mentions of a rut, teasing, big dick!wooyoung, reader has trouble sleeping, lmk if I missed anything!

「notes」 : I wrote this in the span of 12 hrs so I apologize if it seems rushed or kind of all over the place 🫠 but this was a sudden brain rot so I just started writing...

The air was crisp as you sat against the rough trunk of a tree, the bark digging into your skin through your thin jacket. You didn’t seem to mind, though; your attention was far too sucked into the book that was in your hands. You hummed softly as you turned the page, not realizing that you were almost already finished with the book.

A loud gunshot rang through the air, causing you to jump, the book falling from your hands as you scrambled to your feet. There weren’t supposed to be hunters in this area of the woods. The birds squawk loudly overhead, and you start to panic.

Completely forgetting about your book, you rushed in the direction in which the gunshot had come from. You smacked a few branches out of your way until you came to a clearing, yet what you found shocked you.

A man hunched against a tree, his hand clutching his side. Yet that wasn’t what caught your attention; no, it was the ears that sat on top of his black hair. The fox hybrid ears that you had only seen a few times, seeing as the species tends to keep to themselves.

Sensing your presence, he looked up, meeting your shocked gaze with wide eyes. He hadn’t expected there to be another person in the woods. Were you with the hunters who were after him? 

“Are yo–” You started to ask, taking a step closer to him when you noticed the crimson liquid that coated his hand, but he quickly shushed you. Confused, you opened your mouth once more but quickly closed it when you heard rushed footsteps.

“Hey!” A voice shouted, causing your head to snap over to a group of hunters, all of them holding rifles, aiming directly at you. Your heart leaped into your throat, and your hands shot up in surrender. You could tell by their appearance that they weren’t just any regular hunters. No, the insignia they wore on their coats was from a very prominent hybrid hunter organization. 

You could see the fox hybrid from the corner of your eye, but you didn’t dare glance over, not wanting to give them any hints as to where he was because you were sure that he was who they were after.

Swallowing thickly, you opened your mouth, “can I help you?”

“Did you see a fox hybrid run by here?” One of the men in the front asked, his rifle still aimed at you, and your nerves spiked seeing how close his finger was to the trigger. These people were ruthless and would kill just about any and everything that got in their way.

Wooyoung, in turn, watched you, his heart pounding in his chest at the mere thought of you throwing him under the bus for your own safety. It's what every human does, after all. So he started to rack his brain for any possible ways to get out of this alive. That was until he heard you speak, his ears twitching slightly in shock.

“N-No, it’s just been me out here.” You spoke as your heart hammered against your ribs the longer he held you at gunpoint. The hunter looked at you skeptically as he took a step in your direction, and you quickly spoke again to keep him from coming any closer and finding the dark-haired male. “But I did hear scuffling in that direction on my way over!” You spoke quickly, pointing in a different direction, and the hunter raised an eyebrow, staring you down for a moment, waiting for you to show any signs of lying, but he thought you would have to be some kind of idiot to lie while you had multiple guns pointed directly at you.

“Thank you.” He nodded curtly before lowering the rifle, which in turn resulted in the others lowering theirs as well. You offered a meek smile, your hands still in the air as you watched him motion the others in the direction you pointed them in.

The air around you was silent as you watched their retreating figures, your heart beating so loud you could hear it through your own ears. Then, when they were far enough away, Wooyoung let out a groan, which pulled you out of your daze.

Without much thought to it, you rushed over to make sure he was okay, but as soon as you reached out to him, he growled, bearing his teeth at you, “Don’t touch me.”

He looked at you, a mixture of pain and fear pooling in his dark eyes, and you felt your heart drop. Swallowing thickly, you shrugged off your jacket, not caring that the cold air nipped at your bare arms, and held it out to him.

“I just want to help; I promise I’m not here to hurt you.” You spoke softly, meeting his eyes once more, and he looked between you and the jacket you were holding out. Reluctantly, he took the clothing, his fingers brushing the palm of your hand, sending a flurry of sparks along your skin. “My cabin isn’t too far from here, I can tend to your wound, and you can go after that. I just want to help.” You reassured him, keeping a comfortable distance between the two of you.

Wooyoung looked at you skeptically for a few long moments, weighing the pros and cons. He could either send you away and risk bleeding out in these very woods before he could get home, or worse, the hunters find him again. Or he could swallow his pride for a bit and allow you, a human, to help him and then he’d be free to go on his own way.

“Fine.” His tone was cold as he pushed himself off of the tree, and you stepped forward but stopped short when he let out a low growl. 

“You need to add more pressure to it.” You stated as you took a step towards him despite the warning in his eyes and his ears flattened against his head. All signs that you should back off, but you pushed the fear to the side and walked towards him until you were just inches away.

He watched you with a keen gaze as you moved around him to wrap your jacket around his torso and then tie it. You jumped when a pained hiss left his lips, and his hand grabbed your wrist tightly, mumbling an apology as you finished tying off the knot after he released your wrist. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do until you got back to your cabin.

You wanted to offer to help him walk, but judging by the way his ears still haven’t relaxed and his tail is tucked down, he wasn’t going to let you do more than just lead him. Stepping away once more, you noticed that he relaxed a little bit when you weren’t so close, so you took the chance to point in the direction of your cabin.

“It’s just this way, if you need help let me kn–”

“I can walk on my own," he growled. You quickly nodded, backing off and allowing him to follow you.

–

It took a little bit longer to get to your cabin than you originally thought because Wooyoung had twisted his ankle while running, so he lagged behind. You wanted so badly to help him, but you knew not to overstep any boundaries for your own safety. But the two of you made it inside without too much of a problem, and as soon as you shut the door, you pointed towards the couch.

“You can sit there; I have to grab my first aid kit," you told him before turning and walking down the hall, leaving Wooyoung standing there.

He looked around the living room, expecting to find any sign that you might be with those hunters. Yet all he found were paintings of various nature elements and a few photographs of you and two other girls, one he knew was a cat hybrid the moment he saw her ears.

Surprised wasn’t even the word that he would use. After the war that broke out between humans and hybrids, he was sure that no other humans treated hybrids with any semblance of respect. Moving further into the house, he was met with a strong smell of vanilla and cashmere, but your scent overpowered everything else. It was sweet like cherries, but with a hint of vanilla and sage as well—a scent he had never smelled before.

Unbeknownst to him, Wooyoung’s tail started to wave softly behind him, and his ears relaxed a bit more as he picked up on the sound of you in the other room. Even when the place felt safe, he couldn’t help but keep his guard up, knowing he’d fallen into the same trick before, which cost him severely.

After finding the first aid kit, you walked back into the living room, finding the fox limping around the room as he looked at the decorations on your walls. Letting out a small cough, you caught his attention, and he looked over at you. He then walked over to the couch that you had pointed out earlier and sat down, a groan falling from his lips as he did so.

You walked over and sat the first aid kit next to him, and he suddenly froze at how close you had gotten, a low growl reverberating from his throat. You looked over at him, finding his upper lip twitching slightly, and you took a small step back, a huff leaving your lips.

“If you want me to help, you need to let me near you.” You stated, and Wooyoung glared at you but stopped growling, and you took that as a sign. Retaking your spot in front of him, you started to reach for the knot of the jacket but stopped short; he started growling in warning once more. Titling your head to look at him, your breath hitched in your throat when you realized just how close you were to him. Your eyes trailed along his features, the sharp eyes, the beauty mark that was right under his eye, then to the few scrapes he had on his cheek and jaw. His dark eyes bore into you, captivating you, and something about his closed-off nature pulled you in.

Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you ignored his growling and undid the knot of the jacket sleeves before carefully pulling the blood-soaked cloth away. Once it was off, you threw it to the ground to deal with later. Then, without another thought, you dropped down to your knees in front of him, causing Wooyoung to look at you in surprise, the growling suddenly stopping.

“Now you can either lift your shirt or take it off; either way, I need to see the wound, "you told him as you looked up at him, missing the red that dusted his cheekbones.

He looked down at you, his hands hesitantly reaching for his shirt before pulling it up just enough to reveal his lower torso. You had to stop yourself from gawking at his toned abdomen, but that didn’t stop your heart from accelerating.

Shaking your head softly, you rose up to your knees to look at the wound, and you could tell instantly that it was a gunshot wound, which didn’t surprise you. However, you hoped that it was all the way through because you didn’t have the means to remove bullets. Without a word, you peeked around his torso to look at his back, and a sigh left your lips.

“So good and bad news,” You started, moving to sit on your heels once more to look up at him, “good news, I’m pretty sure it missed anything vital, and it went completely through, so there’s no bullet for me to take out.” You told him, and he just looked down at you, not uttering a word, “Bad news, I’ll need to stitch both the entry and exit wounds, which are going to hurt because I have nothing to numb the pain.”

“If you’re worried about me passing out, don’t. I’ll be fine, so just get on with it.” His voice was gruff as he glared down at you, and you nodded before reaching for your first aid kit.

Not a word was spoken between the two of you as you started to clean the area around the wound. When you started to clean the wound itself, Wooyoung let out a pained hiss, and you apologized before blowing on it to try and alleviate some of the pain.

Wooyoung watched you in curiosity; he had never been treated this kindly by humans. Most of the ones he’s met were assholes, to put it lightly, only wanting him to show off to their human friends like he was some kind of prize. Then, the one human he thought he could actually trust turned out to be just as bad, if not worse, than the others, and some of the wounds from then were still healing.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t even realized that he had been staring or that you had even said anything until you waved a hand in front of his face. He blinked a few times before focusing on you once more, the same hard gaze returning to his eyes as he raised an eyebrow.

“I need to clean the other side.” You told him as you stood and sat on the couch next to him, but he didn’t move.

Unease settled into his bones at the thought of turning his back to you, knowing that he would be defenseless if you were to attack him. As if you sensed his unease, you offered him a small, reassuring smile.

“I promise I’m just going to clean and stitch it.” You told him, your hands sitting in your lap as you held his eyes.

He stared at you for a few moments more, contemplating, but there was something in the back of his mind telling him that he could trust you. So, with slight hesitancy, he shifted on the couch with a pained groan until his back was to you.

You covered your mouth to muffle the shocked gasp that fell from your lips at the sight of his scarred skin. Most of them were healed and scarred over, but there were a few that were still fresh, meaning they had just happened recently. You reached out, your fingers brushing over the skin, but you were quick to pull away when the dark-haired male growled, his narrow eyes glaring at you from over his shoulder. Muttering an apology, you focused on the task at hand and started to clean the exit wound, repeating the same process from the other side.

You had heard from your friend that some hybrid owners would whip them, and at first, you couldn’t believe it because there had been laws in place before the war. Yet, looking at these wounds, you were sure that they had come from a whip. You then started to wonder if the person who had done this called the hunters to go after him. It pained you to know that humans could be so cruel, and you wanted nothing more than to wash away his pain, but for now, you could just help him with this one.

Goosebumps littered the male's skin when your warm breath met his skin as you blew on the wound once more. His tail twitched before laying itself across your lap, causing your eyes to widen, but you didn’t say a word, scared that it would scare him off again. Once the wound was clean, you grabbed your suture kit before sitting back to look at him.

“I’m going to stitch the exit wound first, but if you need me to stop at any time, just tell me.” You explained this to Wooyoung, and he turned his head to look at you, a dark gleam pooling in his brown iris.

You let out a sigh when he didn’t say a word before moving to sit at a better angle to stitch up the wound. As soon as you started, his hand that wasn’t holding his shirt up gripped the back of the couch, his knuckles turning white. Pain struck your heart seeing him in pain, but you knew you needed to get this done, so you focused unless he told you to stop, but he never did. After you finished off the last suture, you grabbed some bandages and covered the wound before moving away completely.

“Okay, one side done.” You told him, and he turned his body back around, watching as you knelt down on the ground in front of him once more. His eyes were on you the entire time that you started to wipe some of the fresh blood off. As you brushed over the wound again, his body jerked, causing you to lose your balance, and your hands flew out to steady yourself. However, your breath caught in your throat when you realized that it was his leg that you had used, your other hand on the couch next to his hip. Embarrassed, you fumbled over an apology as you moved away, and Wooyoung just shook his head, eyes averting your gaze as heat flushed over his face.

He would never admit it openly, but the feeling of your hands on him was nice, your skin was soft, and your scent was intoxicating, more so the closer you got. Swallowing thickly, he turned his head as you got to work stitching him up.

Once you were finished, you moved back, packing up your first aid kit before turning to look at the fox, his head still turned. “I’m all done. You’re free to leave, but you’re also more than welcome to stay here.”

You didn’t give him a chance to say anything before you scurried out of the room and towards the kitchen. Wooyoung just watched as your figure disappeared into the other room, his mind fighting with him.

He knew that he was going to leave, but why was he so hesitant about doing so? Shaking his head, he stood to his feet, a pained groan falling from his lips as he did so. He then walked around the couch and towards the door, yet when he reached for the door handle, he felt a tug at his being.

‘Don’t go.’

The voice in the back of his head became clearer than ever, the tugging growing by the second. He retracted his hand to look down at his palm. There was no way he was going to trust another human in his life, but why did he feel such a pull towards you?

Looking out the window, he saw that the sun had already set, and he gritted his teeth. He wasn’t going to be able to make it back home safely at this time. So he let out a huff, deciding that it would be best to just stay here for the night and leave first thing in the morning.

You stood in front of the stove, waiting for the kettle to finish warming up, your mind going back to the whip marks on the male’s back. Wondering who would be so cruel to do that to another person, but in this day and age, you knew that that answer would be hard to get because almost ninety percent of the human population saw hybrids as mere toys or prey for their sick games.

Wooyoung followed where you had gone, finding you standing before the stove. His ears could pick up the steady beat of your heart, and your scent once again invaded his senses. Scrunching up his nose to try and alleviate the overpowering smell, he walked towards you, the question that had been on the tip of his tongue finally falling from his lips.

“Why do you care so much?” His voice broke the silence causing you to nearly jump out of your skin, having not heard him walk in. You turned to look at him, thinking about his question for a moment.

“No one deserves to be treated like that.” You spoke softly as you looked at him, and you could clearly see the suspicion in his eyes, which you didn’t blame him; your kind wasn’t exactly the best to his, “after the war broke out, I vowed to help as many hybrids that I could which in turn got me into trouble, but I didn’t care as long as they were safe.” You explained to him before turning around to pull the screaming kettle off of the stove, pouring some of the boiling liquid into a mug with a tea bag.

Wooyoung just looked at you in confusion. He could tell by your steady heart that you weren’t lying, but he was still perplexed at the thought of you genuinely caring about hybrids. No human did, especially if it meant they would have to leave their normal lives.

“My parents ended up kicking me out after they could get me to change my mind.” You told him, answering the question that was biting at the back of his mind. You let out a sigh before opening a cabinet and pulling out another mug and tea bag, not sparing him a glance as you recalled your parents' methods to ‘persuade’ you. “My best friend is also a hybrid, but she only comes around when it's safe.” You tried to change the subject a little bit as you set the kettle back on the stove after turning it off.

The room then fell silent as you finished up the tea before you turned with both mugs, offering one to the taller male. Wooyoung looked at it skeptically but took it from your hand nonetheless, his fingers brushing against yours, and he could have sworn he felt a shock of some kind.

“I never caught your name.” You spoke as you took a small sip from your own mug, your eyes never leaving his. He mulled over whether or not to give you his name, but in the end, he didn’t see any harm in it.

“Wooyoung.” He told you curtly, and you smiled; it fit him, really.

“I’m y/n.” You introduced yourself before the room fell into a semi-comfortable silence.

You watched as Wooyoung took a sip of the tea, and you laughed softly at the disgust that twisted on his face as soon as the liquid touched his tongue. He looked down at the mug as if it had offended him, his ears twitching slightly, and you couldn’t help but find it cute.

“What is this?” He asked as he sat the mug down on the counter and looked over at you as you took another drink from your own mug.

“It’s chamomile tea," you told him with a small laugh before grabbing his mug and setting it next to the sink. It helps calm the nerves.”

“Well, it’s gross as hell," he quipped as his nose scrunched, causing you to smile endearingly. At the sight, Wooyoung felt his heart speed up under his ribs. Clearing his throat, he ran his fingers through his hair, but the pain that shot through his abdomen caused him to hiss, and you quickly looked back at him.

“Are you okay?” You asked, taking a step towards him, but that same warning gleam in his eyes from before stopped you.

“I’m fine. Is the couch free?” he asked, and you looked at him with scrunched eyebrows. Had he not expected you to let him use the bed? Seeing your expression, he let out a huff. He knew you were too good to be true. " Forget it. I’ll sleep on the floor.” He then turned and started to walk out.

Panicking a little, you sat your mug down, not caring that some spilled before you rushed forward to grab his arm, stopping him. He looked back at you, and he half expected you to tell him to sleep outside, but your words caught him completely off guard.

“I have a guest room; you don’t have to sleep on the couch or the floor.” You told him as you released his arm, taking a tentative step back as he looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read. Interlocking your fingers, you looked up at him. “I can show you the room. I think I have some of my brother's old clothes in there that might fit you if you want to change them.” You told him hesitantly because you had heard about how male hybrids could be about other males' clothing; it didn’t matter if they were human or not.

He stared at you for a moment, trying to figure you out. Running his tongue over his teeth, you felt your heart leap at the sight of his elongated canines, your fingers tightening around each other. Once he agreed, you led him to the spare room, opened the door, and let him walk in.

“Make yourself at home, be wary of your stitches, and don’t get them wet until the twenty-four-hour mark passes.” You told him as you watched him walk into the room, and you noticed that he wasn’t limping anymore, which wasn’t too much of a surprise, seeing as hybrids have heightened healing. “Um, I’ll leave you to it. The clothes are in the wardrobe, and if you need anything, I’m just across the hall.” You pointed over your shoulder, and the dark-haired male nodded as he looked over at you. You offered a small smile before turning and leaving, closing the door behind you.

Wooyoung stood in the middle of the room for a few more moments before his gaze traveled over to the wardrobe, his lip curling in disgust. He would much rather sleep in his dirty clothes than wear anything that’s been near another male. So he walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge. He started to bend down to pull his boots off, but the pain stopped him.

Growling in annoyance, he pulled his leg up to unzip them, kicked them off, and lay down in the bed. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was met with your scent once more. It seemed like no matter where he went, you followed, but this was your home after all, so he shouldn’t be too surprised. Rolling onto his uninjured side, he tried to sleep, which wasn’t too hard after the long and exhausting day he had. 

The loud rumbling of thunder woke Wooyoung dead out of his sleep, his body jolting upwards. His face twisted in pain as his hand covered his wound, pain erupting from the area. Looking around the room he noticed a digital clock sitting on the dresser that sat on the other side of the room.

‘3:47am’

Throwing the blankets off his legs, he stood from the bed and made his way towards the door. Opening it, his ears twitched as he heard movement from somewhere else in the house. Peeking out, he noticed the lights on at the end of the hall, where the living room was. Listening closer, he tried to see if he could hear anything, but the padding of the rain outside made it hard.

Carefully, he walked out of the room and down the hall with light on his feet in case it was an intruder. However, when he turned the corner all he found was you sitting on the couch, a book sitting in your lap. The dim glow of the lap that sat on the side table next to you cast a faint glow upon your skin. He couldn’t tell if it was just his sleep-fogged brain or not, but you looked breathtaking to him, and he hated that he saw you in that kind of light.

Swallowing thick, he turned to leave, not wanting to bother you or be close to you and your intoxicating scent just in case it got to his head. Yet when another clash of thunder vibrated the house, he grimaced, his hands reaching up to pull at his ears.

Hearing the floorboards creak, you looked over and found Wooyoung standing there, messing with his ears. You knew that they had sensitive ears, so you were sure that the thunder was hurting them. Putting the bookmark back into your book, you closed it before setting it down on the coffee table.

Noticing movement from the corner of his eye, Wooyoung looked over to see you standing and walking towards him. He wanted to back away and tell you to not touch him, but he could force the words off of his tongue. You stopped just a few feet in front of him, looking him over. His hair and the scruff on his ears were all messy from his sleeping, and you took note that he was still wearing his clothes. Looking back up to meet his eyes you could see the borderline fear and pain swirling in his chocolate orbs.

“Why don’t you sit down? We can watch a movie until the storm passes.” You told him as you motioned to the couch. As much as he would like to tell you to screw off, he found himself nodding and following you to the couch, taking the empty space next to you but leaving a good amount of space between the both of you.

After you both got comfortable on the couch, you found a movie and pressed play before turning the volume up just enough to drown out the sound of the rolling thunder outside. You handed him the throw blanket after noticing that he was starting to shake slightly, but otherwise, you left him alone, not wanting to push any limits.

The room was quiet, except for the sound of the movie playing through the speakers. You sat with your legs curled underneath you as you played with the loose threads on the couch arm.

“Why are you awake?” His voice caused your heart to jump into your throat, startled by the sudden noise before you glanced over at him.

“Couldn’t sleep.” You told him before turning your gaze back to the TV, your racing heart starting to calm, but Wooyoung’s eyes never left your form.

“Because of the storm?”

You took a moment to respond, mulling over what you should tell him. "Yeah… " It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to burden him with your problems.

Wooyoung could tell that you hadn’t told the full truth, but he wasn’t going to push for answers, so he just left it at that and went back to watching the movie.

About an hour and a half later, the storm finally calmed, and Wooyoung had fallen back asleep on the couch. You couldn’t bring yourself to wake him up, so you just left him after making sure that he was completely covered. 

Grabbing your phone from the coffee table, you looked at the time and saw that it was a little bit after six. So you stood and made your way back to your room to change, trying to stay as quiet as possible. You were going to run to the store to grab a few groceries as well as a change of clothes for Wooyoung, something that you knew he would wear and that wasn’t already worn by someone else.

–

Wooyoung woke up with a groan, his arm covering his face from the harsh rays of sunlight. After a few moments, he lifted himself up and looked around the living room. Had he fallen asleep in here last night? His eyes then fell on a pile of folded clothes that sat on the table, a piece of paper sitting on top of them. 

Reaching over, he grabbed the note, thinking that you had just laid out more of your brother's clothes for him to change into. However, as he read the note, his eyebrow raised.

‘I went to the store this morning and got you something to change into; I wasn’t too sure about your size, so I hope they fit. There’s food in the fridge, and if you need anything, I’ll be in the backyard.’ - y/n

He found it hard to believe that you actually bought him something, but as he grabbed the T-shirt, he found that the tags were still attached, and the only scent he could smell was the faint aroma of the store. His eyes then shifted to the backdoor that he could see through the doorway of the dining room back to the shirt in his hands. He was surprised but grateful nonetheless, so he gathered the clothes before heading back to the guest room to change.

When he was done changing, he went to hunt for you, which wasn’t too hard, seeing as he could hear you humming to yourself through the open window in the kitchen. So he opened the back door and found you sitting on a swinging bench with yet another book in your hands.

At the sound of the door opening, you moved your gaze away from the page you had been reading. A small smile tugged on your lips at the sight of him wearing the clothes you had bought. Closing the book, you sat it to the side and gave him your full attention.

“Do they fit alright?” you asked, and he nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment as he noticed the dark bags that had formed under your eyes. You then remembered his bandages and stood to your feet, “Have you changed your bandages yet?”

“No, I was gonna ask you where they were.” He told you that the hairs on the back of his neck stood tall when a gust of wind blew past him, and he shivered. “Why are you out here when it’s this cold?” He wasn’t even sure where the question had come from, but he wanted to know the more the chill settled into his bones, and he started to shiver.

“It’s not that bad as long as the wind isn’t blowing," you explained before grabbing your book. "Now, let's go change your bandages.” You walked back to the door and opened it before walking in, Wooyoung close behind you, ready to get out of the cold.

As you were bandaging his stitches, you started to wonder why he hadn’t left when he looked like he was ready to run out that door any moment yesterday. Unknowingly, Wooyoung was wondering the same thing to himself. He was sure that he would just leave after waking up. Yet he once again found himself being tugged back to you, wanting to stay in your presence. It was annoying as hell.

When you were done, you threw out the old bandages and left everything he needed to change them sitting on the dresser.

“I’ll leave these here for you if you leave, so you have something,” you told him as you made your way to the door. But he quickly caught your wrist in his hand, the skin tingling at the contact. Shocked, you looked back at him with wide eyes, but he kept his gaze averted, his ears folded back.

“Could I stay here?” He hated to ask because the last thing he wanted was to be stuck with a human, but his ‘home’ was merely just an abandoned factory that was on the outskirts of the city that he had made himself comfortable in after escaping the last human he was with.

As if his reaching out to grab you wasn’t shocking enough, his asking to stay here after making it seem like he wanted nothing to do with you shocked you even more. You blinked at him a few times, trying to find the words, but Wooyoung took that as a sign that you didn’t want him there, so he started to let go. At the loss of contact, the shock instantly wore off, and you grabbed his hand, catching him off guard.

“Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you to ask that, but yes, you’re more than welcome to stay here.” Your words came out rushed, worried that he would try to stop you if you didn’t speak fast enough. Wooyoung looked at you in shock for a moment before his eyes fell to where you were still holding onto his hand, noticing his gaze you quickly let go with an apology, sticking your hands into the pocket of your hoodie. “Uh… I’ll be out back again if you need anything!”

Wooyoung couldn’t help the small smile of amusement that spread on his lips as you tucked tail and rushed out of the room, and he definitely didn’t miss the faint blush on your cheeks. He let out a breath of air before turning and going back to the bed.

Something about you kept pulling him to you, and he wanted to figure out what it was. However, he was also worried that if he opened up too much, it would just be a repeat of last time. So, he decided to keep a good distance between the two of you so he wouldn’t run the chance of trusting another human.

It couldn’t be that hard, right?

The first week that he was there, it was easy to avoid being around you too much unless you were helping him change the bandages on his back. However, the longer he stayed with you, the more that he found himself drawn to you, and it became hard to avoid you.

Even now, as the both of you sat on the couch watching TV, the empty dinner plates were sitting on the coffee table. He sat close to you, wanting to soak in the warmth that you give off, yet he was hesitant about it, but even in the short amount of time you’ve known him you knew what he was wanting. So carefully, you reached over and grabbed his hand in yours, interlocking your fingers together. His breath hitched in his throat as his eyes landed on where your hand sat in his, but you didn’t say a word nor look at him.

As much as he hated it he could feel the walls he had built up around him start to crumble the longer he stayed near you. He didn’t really hate it. He just wasn’t sure if he could trust you.

“We can take your stitches out tomorrow morning.” Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked over at you, offering him a small smile. That’s when he noticed that the dark bags under your eyes had gotten worse, and his eyebrows scrunched up, causing you to laugh softly. "What are you looking at? Do I have something on my face?”

“Have you been sleeping?” His question caught your off guard and you looked at him with wide eyes.

Was it really that evident that you haven’t been sleeping well? You were sure that you had managed to cover the eyebags, just maybe not good enough. Letting out a short laugh, you reached up and rubbed the back of your neck as you turned your gaze away from him.

“Is it really that obvious? I’ve always had trouble sleeping, but it's been worse here lately.” You explained to him, releasing his hand, and he watched as you laid it on your lap. He started to worry that it had something to do with him, but you were quick to catch on, looking back over at him with a small smile. “It’s not because of you, it’s just…” A part of you wanted to spill everything to him; something about him just drawing you in like a string that was attached to your soul, but you didn’t want to overstep any lines that would make him uncomfortable.

Against his better judgment, Wooyoung reached over and took your hand back into his, interlocking your fingers together once more. Surprised, you looked down at your intertwined hands before looking up to meet his gaze. Then, despite all of the warning bells that were ringing in his head, he opened his mouth and spoke softly.

“You can tell me.” He reassured you, and you felt your heart leap at the sincerity in his eyes.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to trauma dump.” You tried to laugh it off, but he squeezed your hand, pulling your attention back to him. His gaze alone told you that he wasn’t going to let you go until you talked about it, so you just slunk back into the couch with a sigh. “My parents used to um… hit me to put it lightly back when everything was happening with the hybrids. They would wait until I was asleep in bed to come in and drag me out.” Your voice shook softly as you started to explain, averting your gaze to your and Wooyoung’s interlocked hands, watching his thumb brush the back of your hand. “Even after they finally kicked me out, I would wake up from night terrors. They got better after a while, but sometimes they get bad again, and I just can’t bring myself to sleep. I’m still petrified at the thought of them barging into my room again, so I just stay awake. Better safe than sorry.”

After you finished explaining, Wooyoung just looked at you. Even back then, you would rather take those beatings from your parents than turn against his kind. He started to see you in a new light, and he found himself even more drawn to you.

He squeezed your hand once again, catching your attention. As your eyes met his, you could feel the tears pooling in your eyes. You quickly apologized as they started to fall, turning your head to wipe them away, but he caught your chin and turned you to look back at him. He brushed his thumb over your cheekbone, wiping away the tears before he spoke again.

“As long as I’m here, you don’t have to worry about anyone hurting you like that again.” His eyes scanned your face, and he could tell that you were on the verge of breaking down. He wiped a few more tears away before pulling his hand away and you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. “You need to sleep; you look exhausted.”

You let out a small sigh, but you knew he was right. It was only a matter of time before something went wrong if you kept yourself awake any longer. So you made yourself comfortable on the couch, propping your arm up to rest your head on the couch, eyes watching the TV.

Wooyoung watched you for a few more moments before turning to look back at whatever movie was playing on the TV. Before too long, he looked over to find that you were fast asleep. Your lips parted slightly, and he couldn’t help but stare. Until he noticed your eyebrows scrunching together, and you started to mumble something.

Releasing your hand, he did the first thing that came to mind: He wrapped his arm around your body and pulled you into his. As soon as your head met his chest, the soft thumping of his heart was heard under your ear. He watched for a moment as your features relaxed and his body went rigid, his ears standing tall when your arms wrapped around his torso. After a few moments, he relaxed, his arm snug around you as he continued to watch TV.

–

When you woke up, you weren’t sure what time it was. Lifting your head, you wiped the sleep out of your eyes but became acutely aware of the body under yours. Moving slowly so as not to wake the male, you reached for your phone and turned the screen to see the time pop up on the screen.

‘2:19am’

Your eyes widened as you realized just how long you had been asleep and without any nightmares at that. Looking back at Wooyoung, you grimaced at the way his head was cranked backwards. Curling your lips inward, you reached out and shook him softly.

“Wooyoung… hey, wake up, Wooyou–” You gasped when he jolted awake, his hand wrapping around your wrist, his eyes alert, and his ears folded back. However, once he realized it was just you, his ear relaxed, and his grip loosed.

“Sorry,” He apologized before releasing your wrist to rub his eyes. “What time is it?”

“A little after two, you should go to bed; you looked uncomfortable.” You told him, guilt creeping up your spine when you realized that he was like that because you were laying on him.

He looked at you for a moment, then said, “If I’m going to bed, then you should, too.”

You wanted to protest, but the stern gleam in his eyes told you that you weren’t going to win this fight even if you tried. So you nodded before standing and turning the TV off, Wooyoung not too far from you.

When you got to your door, you paused for a second, unsure if you would even be able to sleep again. Noticing your hesitance, Wooyoung stopped turning the door handle to his room to look over at you.

“Are you okay?” You jumped at his voice before looking over your shoulder at him.

“I’ll be fine; I’m just not sure if I’ll be able to sleep again.” You told him honestly, but you waved him off quickly, not wanting to bug him further. "Don’t worry about it. Good night, Wooyoung.”

Before he could utter a word, you disappeared into your room, the door shutting softly behind you. He let out a huff, his tail waving behind him, matching his annoyed state. Walking into his room, he decided that it wasn’t really his place to push you, so he just left it be.

You crawled into your bed after changing into a pair of pajamas, but as soon as you lay down and closed your eyes, flashes of those nights came back, and you quickly opened your eyes. Turning onto your back, you stared at your ceiling for a few moments before trying to sleep once again. However, you kept tossing and turning, either too uncomfortable, or fear etched itself in your head as soon as you were about to fall asleep, waking you right back up. With a huff, you started to give up on the idea of sleeping when you heard a knock at your door, nearly scaring the life out of you.

You slowly climbed out of bed and walked over to the door, opening it just enough to look out. Your eyes widened when you found Wooyoung standing there.

“What are you–”

“I can hear you moving around in the other room; I can’t sleep.” He cut you off, and your face dropped. You hadn’t meant to keep him awake. You started to apologize, but he just shook his head, his ear twitching slightly. “You seemed to sleep better when I was with you on the couch, so…” He really didn’t want to spell it out for you, and thankfully, you caught on to what he was saying.

“You don’t have to, I don’t want to trou–” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before he pushed past you into your room, kicking the door closed behind him and pulling you towards the bed.

“Just be quiet and lay down.” His snarky tone was something that you had grown used to over the past two weeks that he’s been here, so it didn’t bother you. No, what was getting to you was the thought of sleeping in the same bed as him. Hearing the sound of your heart rate pick up, he flicked your forehead, causing you to yelp, “We’re just sleeping. Get your head out of the gutter.”

“I– you–” You stumbled over your words in embarrassment, causing the fox to smirk. Your face was a bright shade of pink, and you thanked the heavens that it was dark so he couldn’t see it; at least, you hoped he didn’t. With a pout, you turned, walked over to the other side of the bed, and laid down, your back facing him.

Laughing softly, he took the empty space next to you, pulling the blankets over his body. The room then fell silent as you both laid there, you could already start to feel yourself drift off. Then before too long you had fallen asleep just as Wooyoung thought you would, he then laid his head back down and started to drift off. However, he was jolted from his slumber when you suddenly turned and moved closer to him, your hand brushed against his side as you moved. He stayed still for a moment until you practically curled yourself against his side before he let out a sigh and went to sleep.

–

The next morning you woke up before Wooyoung, a yawn escaping your lips as you went to sit up only to find Wooyoung’s arm draped over your body. Heat crept up your neck as you realized just how close the two of you were, his soft snores filling your ears.

Carefully untangling your body from his, you climbed out of the bed and grabbed a change of clothes before heading to the bathroom attached to your bedroom. Shutting the door behind you, you walked over to the sink and looked at yourself in the mirror.

“Snap out of it, y/n; he’s just trying to help because you’re bothering him. Don’t let it go to your head.” You sighed, turning on the tap to splash cool water over your face.

“You’re not bothering me.” You jumped at the sound of his voice, a small yelp falling from your lips as you looked up, seeing him in the reflection of the mirror.

“When did you…?” You turned to look at him with wide eyes; you hadn’t even heard the door open.

Wooyoung didn’t say a word as he stalked closer to you and you tried to back away only to be met with the counter. He then trapped your body between his and the countertop, leaning down until his warm breath washed over your face.

Your eyes flickered from his eyes to his lips that were merely inches away from your own and you swallowed thickly. Wooyoung wasn’t sure what had washed over him or if it was just that his rut was coming up, but that pull he felt towards you was stronger than ever this morning.

His hand then found your waist, pulling you against him, causing a soft gasp to fall from your lips. His head then dipped down, lips brushing against your ear as he spoke, “I can hear your heart hammering in your chest, sweetheart.”

“Wooyoung…” You breathed out, your hand pressing against his chest, and you could feel his own heartbeat against your palm. 

The fox hummed as he moved away from your ear to look at you, his tail brushing against your bare thigh. His gaze was intense as he stared down at you, his grip on your hip tightening. You wanted to push him away, but you couldn’t, and neither could Wooyoung as he finally captured your lips with his. Your breath hitched in your throat at the feeling of his plush lips against yours.

Any hesitance you felt moments before flew out the window as you melted against him, returning his eager kiss. Your arms snaked around his neck as he deepened the kiss, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip. You didn’t give him much of a fight as you parted your lips, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth. A soft moan fell from your lips when he gently bit down on your bottom lip, and Wooyoung could feel his pants grow tighter.

His kisses grew hungrier as his hands started to roam your body, fingers slipping underneath your shirt. Your brain started to go foggy as his lips trailed from yours down your jaw before finding purchase on the sensitive skin of your neck.

“W-Wooyoung.” You choked out as he started to leave hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, nipping every now and then, causing your body to shiver. His eager hands found the back of your thigh, hoisting you onto the counter, eliciting a small yelp from you.

“You smell so good.” He groaned against your skin before his hands slipped under your shirt, squeezing at the skin. “Fuck I need you, baby, so bad.”

You moaned softly at his words, your hands gripping his shoulders, “We can’t… your stitches.” You told him, trying your best not to lose yourself in the feeling of his hands on your skin and his teeth grazing your neck.

“It’s fine, they’re coming out today. You said so yourself.” He told you, pulling away from your neck to look at you. The dark lust that pooled in his eyes made your arousal grow tenfold, and you could feel your panties growing wetter.

His fingertips then brushed the underside of your breast, and his eye flickered down to your shirt at the realization that you hadn’t been wearing a bra. With quick movements, he pulled the shirt over your head, discarding it somewhere on the floor. His eyes then fell on your bare breast, drinking in the sight with his eyes.

You felt so exposed under his intense gaze, goosebumps littering your skin before you started to cover yourself. However, he was quicker, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into another bruising kiss. A muffled mewl left your mouth when he cupped your breast in his hand, squeezing the soft fat.

“Don’t hide from me. You’re too pretty to hide.” His voice was hoarse as he pulled away from you; his head then dipped down. His lips latched onto the skin right above your breast, and you could feel your sanity slowly slipping away from you.

Your nails dug into his shoulder as he pressed his hips against yours, allowing you to feel how hard he was against your clothed cunt. A gasp fell from your swollen lips when he latched onto one of your nipples, teeth nipping at the sensitive bud.

“B-Bed.” You gasped out when his hand traveled down your stomach to your clothed heat.

Wooyoung let out a low growl, not wanting to waste time, but he detached himself from your breast nonetheless before picking you up. A small yelp fell from your lips as your arms wrapped your arms around his neck.

Walking back into the bedroom, he dropped you onto the bed, a small huff leaving your lips as you fell. Wooyoung didn’t leave you alone for too long, though, quickly discarding his shirt before crawling over you, his lips finding yours once more.

His hands then found the hem of your sleep shorts, fingers wrapping around the waistband, but he stopped and pulled away from your lips.

“Can I?” He asked despite the overpowering need to have you fully, not wanting to push any boundaries there may be. Your eyes fluttered open to look up at him, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him back down to you.

“Please,” You spoke softly, pressing a kiss on the corner of his lips, and that was all he needed before he hastily pulled off both your shorts and underwear. The way his eyes were devouring you had you pooling even more, your thighs rubbing together to try and alleviate some of the pressure.

Wooyoung’s head dipped down to your neck once more, nipping at the skin softly as his hand traveled down your body. He pulled your thighs apart before his fingers met with your soaping core, and he groaned against you.

“Fuck I could smell how wet you were, but I wasn’t expecting you to be this wet babydoll.” He groaned against your skin as the pad of his middle finger found your throbbing clit. The sinful sound that left your lips nearly made him lose all sense of control, and he tried his best not to bite down on your collarbone. 

“W-Woo–” You were cut off by a moan when he slipped a finger into your tight walls.

“Shit baby, you’re so tight,” He chuckled darkly as your eyes rolled slightly when he curled his fingers after adding a second finger. There was no way he was going to be able to hold off for much longer before he lost it, so he sped up his pace, his thumb pressing harsh circles on your clit.

“F-fuck!” You cried out, back arching off of the bed and against him. Your mind was starting to shortcircuit when he brushed over your sweet spot, and a broken whine fell from your lips. 

Wooyoung leaned up latching his lips on yours once more, stealing the air right out of your lungs. Your hand wrapped around the back of his neck, holding him close to you as you felt your orgasm creeping up on you. He bit at your lower lip, enough to draw blood before he started to suck on it; the mixture of pain and pleasure sent you toppling over the edge.

“Wooyoung!” You cried out as he continued to fuck his fingers into you, prolonging your orgasm for a few moments before finally pulling them out of your twitching cunt.

You watched with hooded eyes as he stuck his fingers in his mouth, licking your essence off of his digits. The sight was enough to make your need grow all over again, especially with the way his eyes bore into you. Once he was sure he had licked every last drop of your sweet nectar off of his fingers, he leaned back down over you, pressing his lips against yours again. You mewled at the taste of yourself on his tongue mixed with the tangy, metallic taste of your blood from your lip.

“Next time, I’ll have you cumming on my tongue.” He growled against your lips, and you were sure your brain was turning to putty at the thought of him between your thighs, lapping at your cunt like it was his favorite meal in the world. “But for right now… I need to be in you.”

He moved back far enough to pull the string of his sweats loose and pushed them down his legs. Your eyes grew wide at the sight of his cock, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. He was big, way bigger than anyone you had ever been with before, but for granted, you’ve never slept with a hybrid. You then started to wonder whether or not it would fit, swallowing nervously.

Sensing your unease, Wooyoung crawled back over your body, drawing your attention back to his face. He pressed a soft kiss on your forehead before whispering, “Don’t worry, I’ve got you, baby, I promise.”

You gazed into his eyes for a moment before nodding softly, licking your lips, “o-okay, I trust you.” 

Wooyoung smiled softly before pulling you into another kiss as he grabbed himself at the base, teasing your folds with his tip. You let out soft gasps every time he bumped against your clit that slowly turned into needy whines the more he continued to tease you. Tears from the overwhelming need started to brim in your eyes, and the dark-haired male could have sworn he’d bust right then and there.

“P-please, Woo… I need you, please.” You whined as your fingers tangled in his hair at the nape of his neck, tugging gently.

“Alright, my needy baby.” He cooed before lining his tip with your entrance and slowly pushed into you.

The stretch was like nothing you’ve ever felt before, and your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head as he continued to fill you. “Ah, focus on me, love,” Wooyoung whispered softly, coaxing your eyes open, and you looked at him as tears started to spill from the corner of your eyes. “Good girl.” 

You moan at the praise, his length still pushing you until he finally buried himself to the hilt. Your lips formed an ‘o’ shape from the feeling of being stuffed full. Wooyoung groaned as his face fell to the crook of your neck; you were squeezing him so tightly that if he were to move right now, he’d cum.

“W-Woo…” You gasped as he unintentionally rolled his hips against yours. He quickly apologized before stilling his hips, his hand finding yours to interlock his fingers with yours.

Your shallow breaths fanned against his ear as he pressed kisses along your chest, and he groaned at the feeling. Even through your foggy haze, you could notice the effect it had on him. Your free hand moved to the top of his head, your fingers brushing against his ear, and his whole body jolted.

“Fuck baby, don’t do that.” He groaned, moving his head up to look at you and you just looked at him with doe eyes, a small smile tugging on the corner of your lips. You reached up to touch his ear once more but he caught your wrist, a small growl reverberating from his chest. The sound went right to your pussy causing you to clench around him. “I’m trying so hard to not lose control babydoll, don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

A choked moan tore from your lips when he rolled his hips into yours, pleasure washing over you in waves as he hit all the right spots in one single stroke. Wooyoung released your wrist and hand to grab your hips when you gave him the green light to move.

Stars danced across your vision as he pulled out before snapping his hips right back into yours. Your fingers dug into the sheets from the overwhelming pleasure. 

“Fuck look at you.” He groaned as he continued his rough pace; it was almost animalistic if you will. His eyes then fell down to where his cock disappeared into your soaping cunt, and he felt himself grow harder at the sight of the small bulge that formed in your lower tummy every time he pushed into you.

“Shit, Woo– fuck!” You cried out as he pushed down on your stomach, making you feel him even more as he fucked into you. Tears spilled from your eyes now as your whole body felt as if it were on fire, your legs trembling around Wooyoung’s waist.

“Are you gonna cum baby?” He cooed down at you as he leaned down, pressing his lips against yours, stealing the air from your lungs once more as his tip kissed your cervix at this angle. A loud pornographic moan tore from your lips when one of his hands slid between your bodies, pressing against your clit. “Cum for me, babydoll, please.” He pleaded like he was the one more desperate for your orgasm, but with a few more strokes, you felt that coil in the pit of your stomach snap, and your release gushed out all over his length.

A mixture of his name and broken moans fell from your lips as he continued his fast pace, never slowing down and throwing your body into overstimulation. Your eyes squeezed shut at the overwhelming feeling, pushing more tears out, but Wooyoung was quick to kiss them away.

“Just a little bit more; you can do that for me, can’t you, sweetheart?” He whispered into your ear before leaving a flurry of kisses along your skin. His tail brushed along your leg, the feeling of the soft fur sending a shiver down your spine. “‘M gonna fill you up so good, baby. Gonna get you pregnant with my kits; you would like that, wouldn’t you, my love?” 

You mewled at his words, your mind too far gone to truly understand what he was saying to you. Your fingers then found their way back into his hair, your fingertip brushing against his ear, and his whole body shuddered.

“Please Woo– I can’t–” You whined as your hips rolled to meet with his thrusts. Every nerve ending in your body felt like it was on fire.

“Shit.” He groaned as he felt his high nearing, and his hips snapped wildly into yours, making your vision turn white, nails digging into his neck. A mixture of a groan and a whimper fell from his lips as he completely buried himself to the hit once more as he came.

“W-Woo!” You cried out when you felt something stretching you even more, and it sent your third orgasm washing over you. Wooyoung buried his face in your neck as you milked his cock for all it was worth.

Once your orgasm subsided, you opened your eyes, blinking away some of the tears before looking over at Wooyoung as he pulled his head out of your neck.

“What is that?” Your voice shook slightly and the fox male just smirked down at you before pressing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“It’s a knot, sweetheart. It’ll go down in a bit, but for now, try not to move too much.” He explained to you, and you let out a huff, and your head fell back, but you were sitting there for too long until Wooyoung flipped the both of you and pulled you on top of his chest. “You’ll probably be more comfortable like this.”

You let out a soft laugh before tilting your head to look up at him. "You better hope your stitches didn’t bust.” You huffed before laying your head back down on his chest as he chuckled. He ran his fingers through your hair before gently squeezing the back of your neck. Before too long, both of you had fallen asleep once more.

–

A few hours later, you were in the kitchen with Wooyoung, sitting on the barstool as you took out his stitches. He hadn’t even bothered to put a shirt on after the both of you woke up, seeing that it would be pointless.

“See, I told you they’d be fine.” He teased you as you removed the last stitch from his abdomen, and you glared up at him before raising back up.

“Yeah, and it's probably thanks to your enhanced healing.” You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged on the corner of your lips when he wrapped his hands around the back of your thighs, pulling you closer to him. “Woo, I need to get the stitches in your back.” You went to pull away, not missing the pout that formed on his lips or how his ears drooped.

The room then fell silent. The only sound was your soft humming as you worked on removing the stitch from his back. Once they were out, you couldn’t help but brush over the scars, and this time, Wooyoung didn’t growl or even move away; he just let you do as you please.

“They’re from the last human I was with.” His voice startled you, and you looked up, but he didn’t turn his head to look at you. You laid your palm flat against his back as you listened to what he was telling you. “She was the first human that I thought I could actually trust. She treated me with so much kindness and lured me in with false promises. Then, when she had me in her grasp, that nice facade faded, and her true colors showed through.” You could hear the slight tremble in his voice as he explained, your heart aching at the thought of the betrayal he must have felt. “She was… evil, and that’s putting it lightly. Even an inch out of line, and she’d have that damn whip in her hand.” He growled lowly as he recalled all of the painful nights he had to endure in the cold cage that she would keep him in.

You stepped closer to him, your arm wrapping around his chest, and he leaned back into you. He let out a content sigh when you ran your fingers through his hair, smoothing the scruff on his ears.

“I’m sorry you had to go through all of that, but I promise that you will never have to go through that again, "you promised as you leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss on his temple. He hummed softly, soaking in your warmth because, for once, he actually believed your words.

You both stood there in silence, enjoying each other’s company. That was until the sounds of loud engines interrupted you. Both of you froze, unsure what that sound was. Quickly pulling yourself away from him, you walked with a light step towards the front of the house, peeking out of the front window. What you saw made your heart jump in your throat.

“Shit!” You cursed lowly as you turned back to the dark-haired male who had just walked into the living room.

“What is–”

“Wooyoung, listen to me; in the closet in the guest room, there’s a crawl space. I need you to go and hide in there, NOW!” You rushed, pushing him in the direction of the room, but he fought against you. “Dammit, Woo, go! It’s the hunters, so please go and hide, and for the love of god, do NOT come out no matter what you hear.” You pushed him towards the room once more, and Wooyoung’s heart dropped at the thought of the hunters being here again.

Reluctantly, he did as he was told, rushing into the guest room and shutting the door behind him. Opening the closet door and looking up, he found the crawl space you were talking about. Looking around, he found a bucket and quickly turned it over so he could use it as a step stool. 

With a few pushes, the piece of the ceiling gave way, and he quickly pulled himself up, kicking the bucket away in the process. Once he was inside, he replaced the panel before sitting there, trying to calm his racing heart.

His ears twitched as he picked up on the sound of voices from the other room, and he prayed to god that you would be okay and the hunters would just leave when they couldn’t find what they were looking for.

The hunters had practically busted their way into the cabin and you prayed the Wooyoung made it to the crawl space in time. You jumped when the door collided with the wall roughly, and the group of three men, all wearing the same insignia, walked in.

“You can’t just barge in here.” You stood your ground, glaring at them, but they just looked at you, and the front guy smirked.

“Well, if it isn't the pretty lady from the woods.” He stepped towards you, but you quickly took a step back, keeping a good space between you. “We got word that the fox hybrid was seen in this area.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about; there hasn’t been anyone but me out here.” You stated, heart hammering against your ribs as he signaled for his men to start searching, “hey you can’t just–”

In the next second, your body hit the ground, pain burning on your cheek, and tears stung in your eyes. Looking up, you glared at the man, holding your face.

“See, we would believe that if our sources hadn’t said they saw him right here with you.” He then crouched down in front of you, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head back, causing a pained cry to leave your lips. “So if you wanna live to see the light of another day, you better start telling the truth.”

Your hands balled into fists as you spit at him, “There is no one but me here, douchebag.”

Another cry of pain fell from your lips when he backhanded you, the metal of his ring busting your lip. Tears welled in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall as you met the man’s gaze once more. Your eyes narrowed into slits as he leaned towards you.

“You’re quite feisty; I wouldn’t mind keeping you.” He reached toward you, but you quickly knocked his hand away in disgust.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You growled, heart beating frantically the longer the other two men were out of sight. You prayed that they were dumb enough to just look in the obvious places and not give the crawl space a second thought.

Wooyoung could hear the commotion in the living room, but as soon as he heard the pained cry fall from your lips, he wanted to give up his spot so he could make sure you were okay. However, he knew that he would only end up hurting you more, so he gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the shuffling from underneath him.

Eventually, it stopped, and the footsteps retreated back towards the living room.

“We couldn’t find anything, boss.” Both men walked back into the room, and you had to fight the urge to let out a relieved sigh.

“Fucking hell.” The man in front of you growled before standing to his feet and looking down at you with a faux smile, “Sorry about the commotion, ma’am.”

You couldn’t help but scoff as they walked out of the house, slamming the door shut in the process. You didn’t dare move until you heard the sound of their engines fade off into the distance.

“Y/n!” Wooyoung called out as he got out of the crawl space, saw the mess the hunters had left, and quickly made a beeline to the living room.

You were just getting back onto your feet when he rounded the corner, and he felt his shoulders relax when he saw that you were okay. That was until you turned to face him, and he saw the blood dripping down your chin from the cut on your lip. And his vision turned red.

“Wooyoung, wait!” you called out to him as he made a beeline for the door, quickly grabbing his arm. “Wooyoung, stop; you can’t go after them!" you exclaimed as you tugged him back until he turned to look at you.

“Look at what they did to you; they need to pay.” He growled as he cupped your face in his hands, his thumb gently swiping over the cut, causing you to hiss.

“I’m fine, but you can’t go after them. You alone are no match for all of them.” You explained, and he let out a defeated sigh, knowing that you were right.

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead before pulling away and grabbing your hand. "Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” He then dragged you to the kitchen, sitting you on the same stool that he had been in just a while ago, the first aid kit in his hands.

You watched him endearingly as he cleaned up the blood from your busted lip before putting a plaster over the cut. After he was done, he wrapped his arms around your smaller frame, pulled you into his chest, and you instantly wrapped your arms around his torso.

“They shouldn’t bother us again, at least not for a long time, if they don’t want to get in trouble for harassing a human.” You told him as you rested your chin on his chest, staring up at him. He looked down at you, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

“That's good because I can’t promise I’ll just sit idly by if they show up again.” He growled, and you knew he wasn’t joking, so you hoped they wouldn’t show their faces again.

You sat in his hold for a few more moments before pulling away and offering him a small smile "Why don’t you go get cleaned up, and I’ll make lunch?”

Wooyoung couldn’t help but smile, but he also wasn’t quick to leave your side just yet, so he refused, staying with you in the kitchen while you cooked. His playful remarks and teasing nature almost made everything feel normal once again.

But nothing fully dissipated until you were curled up on the couch with Wooyoung, watching some random movie while the both of you ate, enjoying each other’s company.

In the weeks after, there were no signs of those hunters, and you couldn’t be happier. You and Wooyoung were more than content with each other's company, even if his cockiness and teasing drove you to your wit's end.

The both of you were happy, and that was more than enough for you.

@wwooyology | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[moonlight-prose]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 01. IN DREAMS WE REST

a/n: i've been stressed about this fic probably more than any other i've ever written. not because it's logan per se, but because wade wilson makes me want to rip my hair out. i love that bastard, but writing him feels like pulling teeth. i'm in love with this concept solely for the angst, so if you see more throughout and wonder if they will ever get a happy ending, please know i'm dead inside. enjoy!

summary: stuck in another universe and unsure of where he stands, logan expects things to even out as they always did. but when you cross his path and you have no idea who he is, he's in for a rude awakening.

word count: 5.9k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, wade wilson breaking the fourth wall, angst, cussing so much cussing, alcohol consumption, grief, pain, a broken man pretending he's not broken, chance encounters, awkward conversations, hope.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

He can hear it when he sleeps.

Their screams.

The constant ring of agony that chimes out like a bell, an alarm he never set for himself. A joke once told to him in the midst of World War II, as bullets flew by him and soldiers lost their lives each second of each day. There's no escape from hell. No running from the devil that nipped at his heels the faster he went, the longer he tried to navigate a way free.

There's no escape from the memories that ate away in his mind. Multitudes of them, of the faces he once called family, the people he used to love. They were his punishment. The boulder he continued to roll up the hill, day after day after day. Until eventually...he was crushed by his own self-hatred.

"Logan." The voice whispered long enough for him to grasp who it might be, yet never louder than a mere breath of air.

He clung to it some days. Sunk his claws into what little of his past remained good and allowed it to fill him with some amount of peace. At least then he'd be able to bear this weight, this grief he could never quite name.

Something light brushed across his cheek. Tickling the skin enough to send a flare of irritation down his spine, but the dreams held him in their grasp. What came next never surprised him. He expected it at this point—longed for it. The distant pain of losing what once made him whole; the entirety of his life now defined by one single moment he could never change.

"He sleeps so sweetly. I just want to curl up in his arms and have him read me bedtime stories."

"He's not gonna like that when he wakes up."

"Zip it Al. If I wanted an opinion, I'd go see a Hollywood therapist."

A scoff echoed in the background. "No therapist wants you on their couch."

"Not true. I hear Ryan Reynolds has a great one."

"Who?"

"Not the point." The feather dusted across Logan's face again, soft enough to keep him asleep yet annoying enough to bring a smile to Wade's face. "I wonder if he's dreaming about killing bad guys. They say it's good for the soul."

"Who the fuck is they?"

Wade laughed. "Oh you know. Them. The readers. And boy howdy do they love their blood."

Every day he was forced to listen to Wade's voice became another day Logan dragged his claw through a tally mark of his sanity. "Do you ever shut the fuck up," he growled, gripping Wade's wrist until he heard the satisfying crack of bones.

"Only when I swallow."

"I'll tear your fuckin' arm off."

The smile on Wade’s face only added another tally. "Nice kitty. No need for the claws."

Anger washed across his skin in a familiar wave as he released Wade's arm, watching it go limp. Trying to kill the unkillable walking irritation was like trying to swat a fly that never quite died. It still buzzed incessantly. Until eventually madness was the only viable option of dealing with it. In his case, he seemed to be driving head on with no brakes.

Logan wasn't sure he possessed enough sanity left within him to keep dealing with this. Sleeping on the couch didn't help the way his body never rested; always stuck in that permanent fighting mode. He'd give anything to find some peace. A small sliver of it carved off the past that continued to call him—that begged him to come back and try again.

Swinging his legs off the couch, he planted a swift kick to Wade's chest that sent him across the floor. The lack of caffeine in his system left everything hazy and half coherent. If he focused he might have caught the keys thrown at him, but being exhausted and sober didn't make for a good combination with him. An empty whiskey bottle lay discarded on the floor from last night; the memories of how he passed out barely tinged on the edge of his mind.

He could recall stabbing Wade in the leg.

Nothing beyond that.

Dried blood—now an ugly brown—stained his white shirt. He nearly stripped himself of it, prepared to throw it in with whoever was washing next, but his flannel being chucked at his head caught him off guard.

"Fuck off," he snapped, stumbling to the kitchen.

Wade sighed, following him. "Get dressed, peanut. We have to go do human things today."

"Human–”

"Food," Al retorted. "We're out."

Even in a new universe, he couldn't see himself acting normal. For so long he did what had to in order to survive. Yet now...he wasn't so sure. Accompanying Wade Wilson in order to complete household chores left a bad taste in his mouth. But the thought of fresh coffee and an unopened bottle of whiskey sounded like sweet silver bells in his head.

With reluctance, he buttoned up half of the flannel before he became annoyed with the small size of the holes punched into the fabric. There was only so much he could do with the life he had now. And sometimes shit really sucked.

"Don't scratch my fucking car," Al pointed her words towards Wade, thankfully ignoring Logan's existence for a brief moment.

"Is it safe for her to own a car?"

The door shut behind him with a bang, echoing down the vacant hallway. He was surprised people actually lived here given Wade's antics. They could hear the loud mouthed fucker across the street—if the angry notes in the mail were anything to go by. He didn't bother asking if he should be concerned with any of it. Not when he had no say in how the house was run. And choosing to insert himself where he wasn’t needed, rarely went well for him.

"God no. But I give her the benefit of the doubt. She hasn't killed anyone. Yet."

He yanked the keys out of Wade's hand. "Yeah well I don't trust you either Bub."

The car didn't leave room for his legs as he squeezed into the driver's side. His body practically folded in half as he turned it over—the rumble of the engine rattling against metal. How Blind Al managed to pay for this vehicle went beyond even Wade's knowledge, and in all honesty…he was too fucking scared to ask.

Too much seemed to be happening for him to ever catch up. While this Earth felt similar to his, small things were different. And when they began to add up...he began to wonder if he was drowning.

"Turn left to merge onto the asscrack of traffic."

He barely heard the directions as he drove, his mind drifting the further they went. Part of him sensed the grief from earlier begin to claw up the back of his throat. It begged him to fall, to be swallowed whole by the darkness he'd been stuck in before. And he nearly gave in; could feel his body shift into its constant mode of fight or flight.

The steering wheel cracked under his white knuckled grip as Wade's voice became an afterthought to the war he fought in his mind. Terror trapped itself in his throat and he slammed his foot on the brakes a foot away from a parking spot in retaliation. The car lurched forward, his claws descended. A snarl rumbled in his chest the longer he sat there thinking.

"Woah..." For the first time in days, Wade fell silent. "You alright?"

Logan ripped himself free, shoving his body out of the car before he even threw it in park. He gulped in breath after breath and did his best to wait for this fucking feeling to leave his system. The nightmares only came as he slept. A constant familiar horror show after two centuries.

Yet now he was left like this. Leaned up against a car, his eyes closed shut, and heart racing.

All because he couldn't do his fucking job.

"Logan–"

He snapped, shoving past Wade and his pity that choked him with a vengeance. He didn't deserve anyone's pity. He didn't want it. But people couldn't help but hand it over unconsciously. As if they could see the layers of broken pieces beneath his false expression of strength. Logan never pretended to be okay. Why bother with something people could see right through?

He merely wanted others to ignore he was there. Walk past him, look through him, do whatever it took to pretend that him and all his tragedies weren't standing before them. Because one day he would die and fuck how he couldn't wait for that time to come.

A small hole in the wall dive bar sat in the corner of the shopping center. He barely caught sight of it. But the unmistakable scent of alcohol poured out the door as someone stumbled out—their eyes squeezed shut against the harsh brightness of the sun. He could understand them in a way.

His world didn't have sunlight this bright. Or perhaps he never noticed it ‘til now.

Maybe his body wasn't acclimated yet; unsure of what the fuck was still happening. Everything seemed to be turned up to eleven for him, yet no off switch existed.

The dark hazy glow of the interior sent a wave of calm through him as the door swung shut with a soft thud. Four people sat scattered around the place and a bartender with white and graying hair stood cleaning a glass so foggy it was probably better to throw it out. He found himself letting out a breath that'd been trapped in his chest since that morning. Finally some peace before he had to listen to Wade yap about bullshit he didn't in fact give a shit about.

"What'll you have?" the old man asked, his face screwing up in a wince as he limped towards Logan's spot at the end of the bar.

A quick glance down let him see the brace wrapped around the man's knee. "Whiskey on the rocks."

He nodded, slowly heading towards the center of the wall—a lonesome half empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the counter. Logan shifted, taking the center seat directly behind the man.

"I can't say I've seen you around before son."

He grinned, his finger tracing a random carving that'd been placed in the wood. "I just moved here. Living with a coworker."

"Coworker huh?"

The word didn't sound right to Logan, but he couldn't exactly call Wade his friend. Although they were more than people who fought together, more than men who shared blood during the same battle. That was the thing about Logan though. He'd never be able to put a label on something like that. To him...things weren't one or the other as much as he wanted to pretend they were. There was nuance to his life.

Complications which made living that much harder.

The man turned, surprised to see Logan so close, but didn't make note of it. Logan could see the gratitude in the way his drink was slid carefully to him. The small silent thank you in the bowl of pretzels placed beside it.

"You look lost."

Logan grunted, biting into the salty and dry snack. "Do I?"

"More than some of the others that come around here."

"And who comes around here?"

The man laughed. "No one as of late. You're the first young man I've seen in a while walk through those doors."

He bit back his laugh at the word young. The stories he could tell would leave the man baffled. About wars that no living person had witnessed. About when the world was far different than today—when mutants were freaks of nature and humans were far less forgiving. He could list it all and then some.

But whether or not someone would listen was another thing entirely.

"This place that old?" he inquired, sipping on the amber liquid with a contented sigh.

"Oh you bet." A weary laugh filled the space. "I bought this place in the sixties. When my wife was still my girlfriend. She almost left me because of it."

Logan huffed, his lips curling slightly. "She wasn't a fan?"

The man shook his head, tossing a cloth over his shoulder. "Still isn't. Well she...wasn't." He pressed his thumb to the worn gold band on his left hand. "When she was alive she used to host a book night. Helped bring in the men's wives. Kept them outta trouble."

"Book night huh?"

"She loved to read."

Before he could down the final sips of his drink it was topped off. Logan nodded his head in thanks, his thumb digging into the thumbprint shape of the glass. If he thought about it hard enough, he could almost see himself coming here every night. He pictured a life far different than his own, a past where he might have been happy. With someone who might have even made him smile.

"I'm not much of a reader," he replied, his voice hoarse and eyes fixed on the ice that floated to the surface.

"Ah me too," the man laughed. "I just liked seeing her smile."

A soft remark was on the tip of his tongue before an entirely new image began to take shape. The face of someone lost. Of a smile he'd known better than his own. Hands that once held his face with the tenderness of a lover—a voice that sent the hair rising on the back of his neck. He could see it as clear as he did the man.

You in all your beauty. Lost to a past he could no longer rectify.

He swallowed thickly, beating back every emotion that crawled under his skin. "What's your name?"

"Travis."

Raising his glass, he tipped it towards the man with a tight grin. "Logan." The alcohol went down with a quick and biting burn. A feeling he'd grown familiar with. One he counted on.

"Nice to meet you Logan."

"Yeah you too."

He dug out some cash and tossed it on the bar as he stood with a slight grunt. He may heal quickly but the ache in his bones still existed. As if something resisted against how his body moved with each slow shift.

Fighting meant he could ignore it.

Existing is what made it worse.

The sun practically burned his eyes when he stepped out, the heat of the day encompassing his whole body quicker than he would have liked. For some unknown fucking reason, summer here felt worse than on his Earth. Then again the alcohol didn't help. He stood in the shade of the building next to the bar, searching the parking lot for any sign of Wade.

Going into the store wasn't an option and as much as he wanted to leave the annoyance behind, he didn't want to feel like a piece of shit. That is...even more than he already did.

"Fuck," he hissed, leaning against the brick wall. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

One option would be taking a walk to work off the energy that ran through his veins. At least then he'd be able to sleep at night. And the temptation almost worked. If it weren't for the shop doors that opened to his left, effectively distracting him from the chance of leaving. He could have ignored the person, probably should have given everything he'd been through.

But then his heart dropped to his stomach as you walked out. He'd never seen you in such a soft sundress before, the off white fabric draped off your curves in a way that floored him. As if you were an angel floating by without a care in the world. You were busy shoving a small piece of paper in your purse, your face furrowed in frustration, and Logan smiled. Because he'd traced each line of that face before, he'd kissed those cheeks, your eyelids as you slept.

He'd loved you in ways that would scare a normal human.

And there you were.

"Honey?" he called, unconsciously following you quicker than he intended to. "Honey."

You glanced to the side, completely unaware of the giant lumbering man trailing after you with a soft look on his face and hope in his hands.

That alone tore him in two more than the memories from before.

"Baby, it's me."

The breeze finally went through the air, pushing the skirt of your dress a bit higher on your thighs. Except that's not what he latched onto. Your scent was different. Unlike any he'd encountered before. Honey still sweetly caressed his senses, but flowers overlayed that—peonies if he guessed. Delicious enough to have his mouth watering; his body already aching for you to be closer. To look at him in the way you used to.

He wanted to call out to you—gain your attention properly—but your name wouldn't leave his tongue. Because you were there and you finally caught sight of him and you were looking at him as if nothing bad ever happened between the two of you.

You saw him as a man.

Not a disappointment.

He willed himself to stop and breathe. Take in his surroundings; realize that you weren't who he once knew. You weren't even the same fucking person.

But before he could think straight, he'd already followed you halfway to your car. His eyes were dazed, heart nearly throttling him alive as he stood there dumbly. Waiting for you to finally speak.

"Oh..." Your heart rate spiked quicker than he expected. He couldn't find it in himself to feel bad though. "Hello?"

"Honey," he sighed, the weight on his shoulders lifting ever so slightly.

He caught the way your fingers tightened around your keys, the defense mechanism an instinct by now. And Logan realized what he looked like. A strange man standing too close for your liking. So he took a step back and gave you some space. In the hopes that you wouldn't see him as a threat. That maybe...you'd listen to what he had to say.

"Can I help you?" you asked, eyes darting around the parking lot in case you needed help.

What he wouldn't give for the opportunity to reassure you. To explain that he wasn't here to hurt you. That he'd kill himself before even laying a hand on you. Yet the correct words were lost and all he seemed to get out was an incoherent babble that had him wanting to dig his own claws into his chest.

"You smell different."

You straightened your spine, eyes narrowed into a glare he felt burn across his skin. "Look, I don't know who you are. But fuck off."

Something akin to pride flared in his chest at your tone, your words. But he couldn't show it externally. How would he explain that your fight—your fire—is what drew him to you in the first place? How could he tell you about a version of yourself you'd never know? A person he thought would be with him until his last breath exhaled into the world.

"I'm not here to hurt you." He raised his hands in an attempt to prove his point, but like your variant counterpart you were willing to bite first and ask questions later.

"Yeah. Sure asshole." The shopping bag in your other hand was lifted up, until you had a tighter grip on it in case something happened. You didn't know him. You probably never would.

But Logan had to try. He owed it to you to give it all he had this time around.

Otherwise...what was the point of living?

"My name's–" He made the wrong move stepping forward and knew it the second his boot hit the gravel. With a wince, he watched you stumble back against your car, your arm coming up to protect yourself. "No. Look I'm not gonna do anything–"

"Get the fuck away from me," you spit.

He moved back as if approaching a wounded animal—his body finally on edge in a new way. The fact that you didn't know him wasn't what broke off another chunk of his heart. He could handle that. He'd been through that.

You were afraid of him.

That realization dug in too deep for his body to heal.

That...he couldn't live with.

"WOAH hey!" He'd never appreciated Wade's irritating ass more than in this moment. He jumped between the two of you, the cart of groceries forgotten as he blocked Logan from your sight. "Step away from the nice lady wolf boy." Wade regarded you with a smile. "Hi! Sorry. This is my uncle and well as you can probably tell he's lost eight of his lives. So we're going on little old nine. And well the mind just goes to shit first."

Seconds passed by like minutes and Logan watched you visibly deflate. "Wade," you greeted him, visibly calmer than before. Logan felt his stomach twist violently at the thought. "It's good to see you. How's the job?"

"Oh yup you know. Left that. But I'm really pushing through. I've got an Etsy store where I sell miniature paintings of Michael Angelo's David's penis. So there's that."

Your laughter sent a hole through his chest and Logan bit back the growl that rose up the back of his throat. What the fuck was Wade doing making friends with you? Why were you laughing at his humor?

He couldn't count how many days he'd spent longing to hear your laugh again, the shine in your eyes that always came around when joy flooded your bloodstream. He could smell the honey off your skin, the warmth of what no doubt lay beneath your thin dress. And he wanted to rip Wade to pieces knowing that he was the one making it happen. That you were comfortable with a man who's mouth ran at a mile a minute.

"Did your sister have the baby yet?"

You brightened and Logan felt his heart stutter. "She did! A boy."

"Named Wade I hope."

Another peal of laughter had Logan's claws itching to descend as you ignored he was there. "Theo actually. A cutie."

"Aww." Wade moved closer, head bent to see the small polaroid you pulled out of your wallet. "Wow, he looks like you'd find him in a Gerber's advertisement."

Your eyes drifted up, past Wade's shoulder, until you finally caught Logan's gaze. And he felt like he could breathe. Every ounce of fear was wiped from your face; interest now creeping in as you dragged your eyes down his form. Past the slight peek of chest hair and down to how his jeans hugged his hips. Logan stood taller for your benefit, as if he needed to make a good impression.

He wanted to linger in your mind for days. Until the curiosity ate you alive.

"We're gonna go," Wade announced, after grabbing your bag and placing it in your trunk for you. "Someone has to feed the blind woman in my apartment. She tends to root through everything looking for food." He gripped Logan's arm, shoving him back a good few feet. Even as your eyes still remained glued to his face. "Glad to see the Hyundai is still working. You know you could take the fattest fucking nap in the back of that puppy. Makes you feel like an Egyptian mummy."

"Bye," you said, a dazed look in your eyes as Logan smiled in your direction. At ease with the knowledge that even in a different universe, he could still fluster you with a look.

Dragging himself away from you was hell, but Wade's grip remained unbreakable as they clambered to the car. The groceries stacked in the small backseat.

He could glimpse you driving off and suddenly the nightmare from earlier was the last thing on his mind.

Wade's back hit the wall with a crack before the door could shut properly. The groceries in their hands toppled to the floor. He barely had time to duck before Logan's claws were aiming for his head—a snarl ripping from his throat.

"What the fuck?" Wade shouted, grabbing the paper bag and gently setting it on the table. "Next time just say you need to stay home and find some joy in an empty room and your hand."

"How do you know her?"

Wade smiled, assessing the furious state of chaos Logan was now left in. The tatters of his stability falling to the floor around him. For as much as he held himself together, it certainly remained easy enough to tear him a part.

"Got an eye on someone, do we honey badger?"

Logan grimaced, running a hand down his face. "Would you just fucking tell me?"

"Let me bask in this Logan. I'm about to watch a romcom come to life and need some popcorn." He rummaged through the bag, yanking out some chips. "Salty and sweet. That'll do."

"Wade," he bit out.

"Stick with us girls, we're about to get to the good stuff."

"WADE!"

He tossed the bag to the table, eyeing the way Logan never quite settled. "I'm gonna take a guess and say we know her more than just friendly hellos."

Logan couldn't answer because his grief did it for him. He did what he could to catch his breath, to stop seeing his version of you. The disappointment on your face, the pain in your voice. You'd been so angry with him. To watch the person he loved be reduced to a screaming crying mess wasn't something he wanted to relive, but Wade's question seemed to send an avalanche toppling to the ground.

"She's..." He sucked in a breath. "On my world. I...knew her."

"Knew her? Or knew her."

He reached for the bottle of whiskey Wade threw in with the rest of the groceries and popped it open before he spoke again. "It didn't end well between us. None of it did."

Wade fell silent and Logan found himself loathing the quiet more than the sound of his voice. If he was joking Logan could ignore it. He could pretend nothing happened. That you weren't here, you couldn't be hurt by him again.

You were safe from his destructive tendencies as long as you were in another universe.

"She lives across the street." Logan's head rose and whipped to see the window that faced the building across from them. "The old uncultured shit whistles that keep complaining about WHAM! the greatest thing to happen to music. They're her neighbors. Live right next door."

"Neighbors."

Wade nodded, offering him a chip. "She found their note and angel that she is, she very sweetly threatened to get them evicted. I offered to let her borrow my katanas but was rejected like younger me on prom night. You've really got yourself a catch there buddy."

Logan didn't need Wade to tell him how fucking lucky he was. He knew that the second you walked out of that store. You were everything good in his life at one point, everything he couldn't save. There wasn't much keeping him going on his old Earth, but having you made all the suffering he went through—all the pain he endured—worth it.

If you were waiting for him at the end, he'd do it all over again.

"So you want to take a dip in that honey huh? Taste that rainbow?"

His claws would have sunk into Wade's throat if a knock hadn't sounded at the door. With a huff, he stepped into the kitchen, the bottle clutched tightly in his hand. Whoever decided to give Wade some luck was of no concern to him.

Or so he believed.

"I didn't mean to accidentally take your groceries," you laughed, handing over a overpacked paper bag.

Stuffing the bottle under the sink, he met you halfway to the living room, his eyes drinking in the sight of you still in that dress. Still delicate enough for him to rip if he tugged it right. Heat curled along the base of his spine when your eyes met his, wide and glimmering with your laughter. He felt himself crumple at the sight of your lips parting, the surprise at his size still enough to make you speechless.

"Good to see you again," he greeted you, voice low and soft.

You didn't mean to grow flustered in his presence, but something about the way his gaze devoured you within seconds left you breathless. The swooping sensation in your stomach became too much to handle. Desire and attraction weren't unknown concepts to you. But this felt like more. You could sense him right down to your bones and it scared the shit out of you.

"Oh right!" Wade scooched past you to swing an arm around Logan's shoulders. He did what he could to not stab him in the stomach. "This is Logan. My hunky new roommate."

Logan groaned. "Alright–"

"No, no it's good. You remember when I was declared basically the savior of the universe?"

Your face screwed up in confusion. Logan had never wanted to kiss someone more.

"Marvel...Jesus right?"

"I prefer MJ. Since I've got a Peter." Wade's head whipped to the side. "Suck it Tom Holland." His grip on Logan tightened. "This walking People's Sexiest Magazine helped. We're talking big claws, abs you just want to lick whipped cream off of–"

Logan's elbow slammed into Wade's stomach—crimson slowly tinting the tips of his ears. "That's enough."

"AND the Wolverine."

Surprised etched itself onto your face even further. Until you finally regarded Logan with a look he'd seen once before. Awe. When you first met one another in the halls of the mansion, you stared at him that exact way. As if you couldn't quite believe that iconic figure the X-Men made him out to be actually existed.

He couldn't tell if he liked it. Or if he'd rather you view him as a stranger.

"Logan," he said, offering his hand to you politely. Your skin remained as soft as he remembered.

Warmth bloomed in your body at the feeling of his calloused palm overwhelming yours, the scars across his knuckles old and ancient. Yet you found yourself wanting to trace them over and over, until the sight of them seared in your mind. You fought the urge to press your lips to them, etch your own mark into his skin. Something told you he wouldn’t mind.

Logan could see the intrigue on your face—the distracted gaze he wanted to keep in place. You were still curious. Still willing to learn about him. To pick him a part with soft words and even softer touches.

"Logan," you murmured under your breath, your eyes catching his. He felt his stomach leap at the sound of your voice whispering his name. Memories flooding his mind quicker than he expected. Of mornings spent in bed, your skin pressed against his. Of nights alone in his cabin—your stories lulling him to sleep.

Everything he willed himself to forget, yet could never truly let go of.

"I've got to head back." Disappointment filled your heart at the thought of not getting a chance to talk to him more. He had yet to let go of your hand and you found you liked his touch on your skin. "I'll see you soon Wade."

"Logan will be more than happy to walk you back," Wade replied, waving drastically behind your back. "Can't have you getting hurt now can we? Right peanut?"

You smiled. "I'm just across the street."

"I don't mind," Logan cut in, glaring at Wade to shut the fuck up.

"Okay," your voice was soft. Happy.

Logan would have done anything to keep it that way.

The walk back wasn't long enough for him to explain his actions from earlier, but you seemed to be just as smart as your variant self. Shutting the building's door, you turned to him—your dress fluttering in the breeze. Logan choked on his spit at the slight peek of your ass before you pushed the skirt back down around you.

"Did you know me?" You lead him to the corner, waiting for the traffic to die down. "On your Earth."

He paused, his eyebrows pulling together, and for a moment you wondered if you asked the wrong question. Wade told you bits and pieces of what happened since you last saw him, but Logan's background wasn't a discussion you tried to seek out. All you knew was that Wade acquired a new roommate. Not even a name.

Certainly not that he was Wolverine.

"Yes," Logan muttered, glancing at the change in lights.

You started to walk. "In what way?"

His hands curled into fists—echoes of his past rising to the surface. "We were...friends. You're a professor."

"A professor?" you exclaimed, a smile tugging on your lips. "Am I a mutant?"

He nodded. "You're able to bend time. Or control it." He snorted, following your lead towards your building. "I could never understand it. But Charles did."

The walk up to your apartment was silent, your thoughts filled with the new information he'd given you. And no matter how hard you tried to picture it, you couldn't see yourself as a mutant. A powerful being that held the ability to manipulate time who just so happened to be a professor. Somehow even thinking about it made you wonder why Logan was bothering to entertain this version of you. When the better one existed on his Earth.

"You said were."

Stopping at your door, he nearly knocked into you. "Hm?"

"Were friends. What happened?"

The answer he couldn't give you. The words he wouldn't even admit out loud to himself.

He felt his heart twist as if a knife slowly carved through his spleen. "We uh..." He coughed. "You..."

"I don't have to know." Grasping gently onto his arm, you offered a warm smile he felt down to his toes. A look he hadn't seen in quite some time. Logan could picture the last day you were happy in his head. Laughing with Charles in his office as you shared dinner, working on theories of your powers late into the night.

A week before they came.

"It's good to see you like this," he breathed, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek before stopping midair. "Happy."

Your eyebrows knit together. "I wasn't happy?"

"No." What he wouldn't give to take that information back, but it was out in the open, and as always—he remained too late.

"Why?" you asked, your hand sliding down to his much to his delight.

"I made you a promise." He sucked in a breath, his body begging him to start running. You'd be better off if you never knew. If you never remembered him in the first place. "I couldn't keep it."

I'll always keep you safe.

Words he refused to say again.

How could he promise this version of you that? How could he look you in the eyes and lie again? Breaking his Earth's you would haunt him for the rest of his life. He couldn't fathom doing it all over. It would kill him.

Except you weren't the person in his mind. You weren't the mutant who hated him with every fiber of your being. You were you. A continuous surprise that left his heart stuttering in his chest each time you looked his way. An enigma he found himself wanting to unravel.

"Maybe this time around you can," you said softly, letting him go with a smile as you entered your apartment, effectively opening the wound in his heart so wide there was no saving him.

Although he now knew something he didn’t know before.

He didn’t want to be saved.

[yandere-romanticaa]

𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭.

🎀 Traveling from nation to nation and learning the art of creating the most delicious chocolate has been a passion of yours for ages. However, upon stepping foot into the Nation of Flame, you never could have prepared yourself for the incoming wave of sweetness and obsession which was going to hit you like never before.

A/N: This story is loosely inspired by Joanne Harris' book of the same title, Chocolat. It's a book that I am very fond of and I was inspired to write this once I saw that we were able to make chocolate in Natlan, probably the best thing in the game. I am a massive chocolate enjoyer, so... Also, the fic has some minor nsfw implications, just a bit of a heads up! Apologies if Kinich is not in character, oopsie.

yandere! kinich x fem! reader.

Proud warriors, the scorching hot sun and eternal flames were the first things that came to mind whenever you would think about Natlan. As a humble Mondstadter, it never occurred to you just how rich this nation was, how welcoming the people were going to be and not to mention how this place could help you develop your love for chocolate.

Stirring the pot in front of you was no easy task as the decadent scent of delightful goodness enveloped the entire humble little hut which you occupied, the entire floor littered with pots and pans filled to the brim with your creations and some personal trinkets which you had brought for yourself along for the journey.

One of Natlan's great tribes, the Scions of the Canopy, had graciously taken you under their wing and allowed you the privilege of experiencing the culture firsthand. You let out a wistful sigh as the chocolate bubbled happily before you, the dark liquid almost looking too good to be real.

You always took pride in your skills as a chocolatier, even if you hardly considered yourself the best one in the whole entire world. An endless sky of knowledge was out there waiting for you, the voices of the unknown beckoning you to come forward and seize them with your own two hands.

You were a true Mondstadter at heart. No matter where you were or how far you traversed, the wind was always there to guide you, to show you the right path. And right now, the flow of the wind said to stay in Natlan, to finally stop and smell the roses a little.

And each rose you touched had never been as sweet.

The rose, your rose, had a name and merely thinking of him sent your heart ablaze. Messy dark hair, gorgeous dew eyes and skin so perfectly rough and tender at the same time, it made you wonder how he managed to pull off something so contradictory.

That was Kinich's charm, you supposed. Cheeky little thing, he always looked out for you ever since he saw you. Despite his dry humor and straightforward attitude, there was a certain gentle quality to him which made him so irresistible, as if he was temptation personified. Never once did he leave you alone for the entirety of your trip if it could be helped, which came as a shock to his fellow tribe members.

Looking back on it, you were foolish to not see his intentions, even more so for not paying attention to the longing glimmer in his eye and how he would trail after you like a shadow.

He was shy, at first. Unsure on how he should express his feelings, Kinich merely resorted to doing things for you, because he was simply that kind of man. Actions speak louder than words and there was no word in the dictionary which could describe the way in which his chest would tighten in pain whenever he would make eye contact with you, as if large and thorny vines had sprouted from the ground up and taken root in his soul.

You are sweeter than any chocolate you could possibly make, he whispered into your ear one evening.

A shudder came over you, your cheeks hot at the memory of that night... The moon was high and full, overtaking the pitch black sky as Kinich had pinned you to the ground, his gaze boring deeply in your own, those large eyes focused on you and only you...

Chewing your bottom lip, you stirred the pot harshly as the memory replayed in your head over and over - his grip, which was tighter than any rope imaginable, the feeling of melted chocolate which was caked over your lips and fingers, the sensation of Kinich's tongue as he licked away the sweet goodness off your body...

By the seven, this was too much.

With a huff, you turned off the fire which was lit beneath the pot, your hands shaking with excitement as you felt your entire body growing hotter and hotter, making it harder to concentrate.

Damn that Kinich. Damn him for making you feel so wonderful, so wanted, so perfect. The thought of having to leave this place, it... It bordered on anguish. Sometimes, when you were sure no one was around, you would find a dark little corner and weep quietly to yourself. It was hard to manage the massive hiccups and keep the snot away from staining your clothes at first but you managed. Like always, you would find a way to get everything back in order and all would be well once you got everything out of your system.

You had fallen for Natlan. You had fallen even more so than Kinich. Even so, the wind was picking up once more, demanding that you make your next move.

There was so little time left to enjoy everything you had built here. Therefore, your plan was to make the most of everything you possibly could.

And Kinich was more than ready to assist with that.

He hid high up in a tree as he observed you, his face schooled into that of one of his classical nonchalance and stoicism. The chance of him being spotted by anyone up here was slim but even so, he liked to play it safe.

No one needed to know the pain he was in. No one needed to be aware of his more... dubious thoughts and actions. Kinich always fancied himself as a man of action rather than flowery words. And so, he acted.

Quietly, stealthily... Perhaps even a little lethally at times.

Violence was hardly ever the answer but if anyone got in his way and refused to back down, it was his only solution then.

Kinich had a solid reputation in his tribe - he was trustworthy, he was strong. This granted him access to many things, many useful and convenient things. All he had to do was say the word and most people would keep their mouths shut if they saw him somewhere he should not be. And if his poorly veiled threats were not enough, he was more than ready to take up his weapon and fight.

It really was that easy for him.

Sneaking into your newly built home was its own beast though.

This is wrong, he would chant inside his mind over and over again. The intensity of his actions and his nonchalant persona were always at a clash with one another, constantly fighting a never ending war. He should trust you, he knows you are capable, he has no right to be doing any of this even yet... And yet, he does it anyway.

Because he knows that if he doesn't do something, he will never see you again. Kinich knows that he will lose you to the wind if he lets you slip through his fingers, he will never get to experience what it means to be touched, to be loved.

He wants to adore you in the same way people adore your delectable creations. The various statues made from chocolates, the little cacao bites, the endless sea of pralines which would be devoured so fast by the masses that he could not keep up...

Whenever he had the luxury, he liked to imagine you as one of those pralines. Perfect and oh so easy to devour, you were nothing short of excellent in his eyes. Kinich was no blind fool, he was well aware that you had your flaws as well but he cared very little about that.

He wanted the entire package. He wanted you, wrapped up in a little bow and delivered on his doorstep like the world's most precious package, a package which he could unwrap and enjoy time and time over.

Even in his hazy state of mind, he could still recall how you tasted. Licking his lips, Kinich made sure to double check that he had taken a few things from your hut which could prevent you from finishing your latest project. Yes, that was petty of him.

But he could not be bothered to care.

The wind was cruel. Whenever a gust of it would blow at him, Kinich would scowl as he knew that it meant that you would take it as a sign to leave. His hair would get tousled as he would wrap his arms around his body, the constant yapping of Ajaw did him no good either.

The clock was ticking. There was only so much he could do to keep you here. A plan needed to be formed, fast.

For now, he was going to enjoy you in every way he could. He was going to be greedy and devour you wholly whenever the opportunity arose. As Kinich balanced himself up on the massive tree branch, yet another fresh gust of wind made its way towards him. He saw the way you popped your shoulders, that all too familiar smile on your face.

You loved the wind and the wind loved you. You loved to make chocolate and were quite excellent at it too.

Despite all that, Kinich loved you more. He adored you more than the sun adored the world, he wanted you more than unlike anything else before. He cursed the Anemo Archon underneath his breath, his poor lip bloody and bruised from the amount of times he had bitten it in order to keep himself quiet.

Kinch was a man of countless deeds. And he would find a way to keep you by his side, no matter the cost. Be it Celestia or the Abyss, there was no force in this world which could destroy the endless and raging fire he felt for you.

[wilwheaton]

President-elect Donald Trump will come into office next year with four extra slots to fill on the federal bench, thanks to a deal Senate Republicans struck with Democrats. Republicans agreed to relent on their procedural warfare waged in recent days in an attempt to thwart the confirmation of President Joe Biden’s judicial nominees to lifetime appointments in his final weeks in office. In exchange for the GOP allowing lower-level district court nominees to receive quicker votes, Senate Democrats will not move forward with confirming four higher-level circuit court picks and saving the positions for Trump to fill. Both sides spun the arrangement as a win-win: Republicans will guarantee slots for Trump judges, and Democrats will save valuable floor time on fighting for nominees they were unsure could be confirmed.

Trump scores win on judges from Senate GOP despite attendance problems

I’m old enough to remember Democrats “keeping our powder dry” during the entirety of the GW Bush years, while the entire — literally the entire — Democratic base was screaming for them to do anything to reign him in.

So when I see Durbin pull this shit, I am both entirely unsurprised, and also furious. They all told us, again and again, that if Trump wins, our entire country and everything it means will be destroyed. I happen to believe that is true, but I don’t know that they did (or care that they will be affected, too).

Because if they did believe that the entire American Experiment was on the line, they would be doing what the GOP in North Carolina is doing, and what Republicans do every single time they lose their majority: exploit every loophole, push every boundary, use every single tool, no matter how cynically, to push through as much of their agenda as they can, and make it as hard as possible for the incoming majority to enact their agenda. Use the tools you have to protect and expand your policies, and let the winners complain about it, because policy is what matters.

Instead, we get a bunch of Model UN dorks who want to write stern letters and wring their hands at the lack of comity, while the Republicans are walking around setting the entire building on fire.

Durban, Schumer, and all the elder Democrats have got to go. We’ve tried it their way since the 90s, and look where it has gotten us. Get out of the way and let younger Democrats who aren't afraid of being disinvited from country club parties and fancy DC dinners do the work we sent you all to Washington to do.

[wholoveseggs]

Small Victories

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Daemon Targaryen X Reader} After a tourney in which Daemon places second, he seeks solace from his loss and finds it in his little northern maid.

♡♡ Hello darlings! I'm branching out slightly and writing about a new character {Don't worry, I'm still writing Elijah} xoxo ♡♡

5.3k words - Warnings: smutt, size!kink, rough sex, dom!daemon, slight choking, virgin!reader, northern!reader, servant!reader, pre-dance Daemon, huge power imbalance...

♡♡ Hey! I didn't tag anyone because I'm unsure if you want to read Daemon content. If you wish to be tagged in future Daemon let me know ♡♡

You didn't like the Red Keep, it was too grand for your liking. Even with all of the people in it you still felt alone. At night, you could hear voices echoing throughout the halls, sometimes they were singing or laughing and other times they were screaming or moaning.

You could never tell where the sounds were coming from, it gave the place an odd feeling of being haunted. Ghosts weren't something you put your faith in, but that didn't stop the hair from standing up on the back of your neck whenever you heard a strange sound.

If it was up to you, you wouldn't live here. You would be back in the little cottage you grew up in, far into the north and as far away from King's landing as you could possibly be. It was a funny contradiction, that such a grand place in a warm environment could feel so cold, while a small house in the cold north could feel so full of warmth.

The last thing your mother said to you, was that you should be grateful. That your place in the Red Keep was the highest honor your family could ever hope to receive, and that you should do anything to stay here. To be a lady's maid to the queen, was the highest achievement a low born could achieve.

You tried to be, even though your heart yearned for the snowy landscape of your childhood. You wanted to be happy, you were thankful, but you couldn't help the way you missed the north.

So to try and capture just a bit of personal freedom, you would walk the halls at night. It was the only time you could pretend to be somewhere else, even if it was only for a moment. You would close your eyes and imagine yourself somewhere new and exciting, and when you opened them you would be reminded of where you really were.

Tonight you were in a particularly adventurous mood, there was a tourney the next day for Prince Viserys and his wife Aemma to celebrate their wedding. The Red Keep would be full of guests and it would be loud and full of life, you were sure to be very busy, and so you decided to stay up late and postpone sleep for a few more hours.

There was a room in the library that had a view of the city, one you liked to frequent often. It had a large window and a balcony that was rarely used. It was a nice place to go to clear your mind and think about home.

When you entered, nobody was around except for a cat that was perched on the windowsill. She was a lovely thing with black fur and bright green eyes, the perfect color of a dark forest at night.

"Hello, beautiful." You greeted her with a smile and a light stroke along her back. You looked out the window with her at your side, watching the moon reflect off the ocean and the waves crashing against the shore.

The sound of footsteps behind you made you look over your shoulder, your eyes landing on a man with a face that made you stand up straight and bow your head.

"Prince Daemon." You greeted him, not looking up from the floor.

"Young maidens like yourself shouldn't be out so late." He said, stepping closer to you. You didn't dare move or even breathe, his presence made you feel like you were caught doing something wrong.

"I couldn't sleep, my lord," You answered, not meeting his eyes. This was your first real meeting with the prince, but you knew the rumors that surrounded him.

He didn't respond to your answer, instead, he turned his attention towards the view. Leaning against the window, his posture was dismissive, as though you weren't there. He gave you a side glance that read, 'leave,' and so you did, not wanting to get in his way.

"I apologize, I didn't mean to intrude." You said, walking past him, heading towards the doorway.

"You are from the north," he spoke, still looking out into the water.

"Yes, my lord," You answered, stopping when he started speaking.

"How did you find yourself as a maid in the south?" He asked, looking at you, his eyes piercing through you.

The truth of the matter made you feel shameful, even though it was beyond your control. So you decided to tell him what you've been telling everyone.

"I was given as a gift for our new queen," You said, looking down at the floor.

"Is that what they call it?" Daemon laughed, his laugh was as harsh as his voice, the kind of laugh that could cut you open if you let it. "I heard you were given away as payment for a debt."

Your cheeks reddened and you looked at the ground, your throat closing up at the mention of your family's failure. Pride wasn't something you could afford anymore, but you couldn't stop the words that came out of your mouth.

"I didn't realize that princes were so fond of gossip." You said, meeting his eyes, your words were meant to cut, and they did.

He stood up straight, his expression unreadable as he closed the distance between the two of you, towering over you.

"Ahh, so they did sell you." He smirked, looking down at you. "Whoring can make you better coin… recover a debt quicker."

Your hands balled up into fists and you took a step closer, a defiant glare on your face.

He chuckled and tilted his head, he reached out and touched your chin, his hand was soft but firm as he turned your face to look at him.

"With a pretty face like yours, I'm sure you would make quite a bit of coin," His voice was a purr, a seductive growl that made your insides feel tight. "I could show you a better use for those lips."

His words were shockingly vulgar, his voice was rough and commanding and his eyes were hungry, but you didn't move away, you stayed still. You knew the dragon prince was a scandalous man, but you didn't think he would ever be so bold.

"There is no honor in a whore's coin." You answered, pushing his hand away from your face.

"Is there honor in emptying the queen's chamber pot?" He retorted, grinning slightly at how red your cheeks had become.

"Not all of us have the opportunity to choose what sort of honor we can acquire,” You said, standing your ground as best as you could.

He towered over you, his tall frame casting a shadow that almost completely covered you. He wasn't like the king or queen, who were kind and generous. There was something dark and malicious about him, as though the great beasts of his house lurked just below his skin, waiting to come out.

"You have a smart mouth, little northerner." He mused, his eyes drifting down to your lips. "It's a wonder that the queen has not put a gag in it."

"It's a poor quality I have yet to overcome." You responded, pulling away from him and putting some distance between the two of you.

He watched you move away, his eyes following your movements and the shape of your body, making you feel hot.

"I will think of you when I win the tourney tomorrow." He said, his tone smug and confident. "A sweet northern flower to bring back with me."

"You will be bringing back nothing, prince Daemon." You said, your voice a warning.

He laughed and looked at you, his eyes dancing with mischief.

"We'll see about that."

And with those final words, he left the room. You felt flustered and annoyed, a strange mixture of feelings that confused and angered you. You didn't like the prince, but he made your heart race, his voice and his eyes made you feel a strange sense of heat.

You wanted to be disgusted, and yet all you could think about was seeing him again.

It was a hectic morning, with all the knights and guests arriving, and you were late. Your tardiness had earned you a sharp reprimand from your head maid, but you were too distracted by the upcoming event to care.

The prospect of seeing the prince again was something you weren't sure you wanted, but couldn't stop thinking about.

You didn't like the way his eyes lingered on you, or how he made you feel things that shouldn't be felt. The rogue prince was indeed a fitting title, he was a scoundrel and a liar, a man of dishonor.

You thought that maybe he was the sort of person that the south created, perhaps they took people like you and turned them into someone like him. But then again, he wasn't really a southerner, no, he was a dragon.

The sound of cheers and laughter outside made your ears perk up. The queen was already seated with the other royals in their viewing box, and you were in a nearby tent, preparing more wine and food.

The tourney had just begun, and so far the knights had all performed well. You had only been paying a bit of attention, trying to do your job and keep out of the way.

The head maid was a cruel, vindictive woman, and she had been taking out her frustration on you all day. Her temper was short and her hands were rough, she was the kind of woman that would slap your hands or pull your hair if she was upset. But today she decided to simply make your life miserable with her words.

She gave you the worst jobs and the heaviest items to carry, and when she did allow you to stand and rest, she would hit your feet with her broom and tell you to get back to work.

"Once you are finished pouring wine, I want you to go to the prince's tent and serve him." She ordered, her eyes were sharp and her words were harsh.

"The prince has a squire to serve him." You protested, the idea of facing Daemon again made your cheeks turn red.

"The prince requested a woman's company,” She smiled, her eyes looking at you with an almost wicked satisfaction.

"I believe what the prince is looking for can be found on the street of silk, not among the ladies maids." You countered, hoping to change her mind.

"It's an honor to serve the prince, and he has specifically asked for a northern girl." The head maid was adamant, not willing to let this go.

You clenched your jaw and took a deep breath, biting your tongue as you looked at the floor.

"Very well, madam."

You held back tears as you climbed the stairs to the viewing box, pouring wine into the cups. Keeping your eyes low and only lifting them when absolutely necessary as you made your way down the line of royals.

Everyone began to stir and chat as the final round was announced. You turned to face the arena, watching as the prince mounted his horse, the sight of him made your heart flutter.

He was a handsome man, there was no denying that, his long blonde hair was braided and tied back, and his purple eyes were focused and determined.

His horse was a massive stallion, black as night, and he rode him as though they were one. He moved with a grace and confidence that was captivating.

The final round began, the two men charging at each other. You were nervous and excited, not knowing what to expect.

The clash of steel was the only sound in the air, it echoed throughout the entire arena. The crowd was silent, their eyes locked on the scene before them.

The two men passed each other, once, twice, three times. The tension building with each near miss, until finally the two knights clashed again.

Daemon's opponent had a slight edge over him, being bigger and stronger, but Daemon was quicker. But on the fourth pass, his opponent managed to catch him off guard, sending him flying into the dirt.

The crowd gasped, their hands covering their mouths as the prince's horse bucked and ran, leaving him in the dust.

You winced at the sight, it wasn't a good fall. He landed on his back, hard, and he lay still for a moment, his eyes squeezed shut as he caught his breath.

Only when the head maid cleared her throat did you realize you had been holding your breath.

"You are needed in the prince's tent, girl." she commanded, grabbing the jug from your hands and giving you a stern look.

You nodded, taking the tray of food and wine from the table and heading out of the box. Your heart was racing and your palms were sweaty, the thought of seeing Daemon after such a public humiliation was not something you were looking forward to.

The air was alive with the roar of the people, and the thumping of their feet sounded like thunder. They were chanting for the champion, something that would surely upset Daemon even more.

When you got to his tent, you hesitated, taking a moment to calm your nerves. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, letting the noise of the crowd fade away.

You stepped inside, finding him sitting in a chair, his shirt was off and his squire was cleaning a nasty gash on his arm.

"I'm sorry for intruding, Prince Daemon." You said, placing the tray of food on the table and pouring a cup of wine.

"Leave," he barked at his squire, his voice was gruff and his jaw was clenched.

"But my prince-" his squire protested, looking up from the wound he was treating.

"Now."

The boy left quickly, leaving you alone with the brooding prince.

"Would you like some wine, my lord?" You asked, your voice soft and timid, the last thing you wanted was to make him even more upset.

"No," he hissed, his voice sharp as a knife. "Bring me a new shirt."

You did as he asked, walking over to the large chest in the corner. It was full of clothes, the colors and fabrics were fine and beautiful. You selected a clean white shirt and brought it over to him, your eyes focused on the ground.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice was quiet, but it was a demand, not a request.

You lifted your eyes, meeting his gaze. His eyes were cold, the same shade of violet that had captivated you was now a glare.

You did very well, my lord," You tried to reassure him, your voice soft and comforting.

"Is that meant to be comforting?" He asked, his tone was harsh and his expression was a scowl.

"Fine. I have never seen a worse display than the one you put on today," you said, the words slipping from your mouth before you could stop them.

He smiled, then laughed, his shoulders shaking as his amusement grew. Only his brother the king would ever talk to him this way, and here you were, a young low born northerner, mocking him. He didn't know why he enjoyed it coming from you, perhaps it was because your words meant nothing. You were no one, and he was the prince, and yet he found himself intrigued.

"That was quite a show, wasn't it?" He chuckled, the sound was hollow, not at all humorous.

"It was humiliating," you answered, the words escaping before you could stop them.

"Careful," he warned, his eyes narrowing. "You're lucky I find your insolence amusing."

"I thought it was why you had asked for me," you retorted, setting the shirt on the table and taking a step back.

He stood up from the chair, closing the space between the two of you. The air was thick with tension, his eyes boring into yours, his face was inches from yours.

"I didn't lose the tourney," he stated, his voice a low growl.

"You didn't win either," you countered, your cheeks flushed red, your heart racing in your chest.

He smiled, the gesture was almost predatory, he reached out and grabbed your face, his hands were rough and his grip was tight.

"You are quite the mouthy little wench," his words were a harsh whisper, his breath hot against your skin.

You didn't answer, afraid of what he would do if you spoke. He seemed to be enjoying himself, his eyes dancing with amusement as he stared at you.

"On your knees," he ordered, his tone demanding.

"My lord, I-" you protested, trying to pull away.

"Kneel," his voice was louder this time, and you knew that he was not going to repeat himself.

You hesitated for a moment, but he was the prince, and you couldn't disobey him. So you lowered yourself onto your knees, looking up at him, waiting for him to tell you what to do next.

"Is it true that northern girls can take a cock better than southern ones?" He asked, his hand still holding onto your chin.

You didn't know how to respond, his words making your cheeks burn. You could only stare at him, your mind reeling as you tried to figure out what he wanted.

He smiled, and the look in his eyes made your heart race. "Open your mouth, little northerner."

You did as he commanded, your eyes never leaving his. He pushed his thumb past your lips and slowly pressed down onto your tongue, rubbing it in circles before slowly dragging it out.

Your lips parted and your breathing became heavier as he traced his wet thumb across your bottom lip, his eyes fixated on the movement.

"Beautiful." He whispered before sliding his thumb back into your mouth, pushing it all the way into your throat, causing you to gag.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth and wiped the spit off on your cheek before grabbing you by the arms and lifting you up, turning you around and pushing you face first into the table.

"My lord," you gasped, struggling against his strong grip.

Daemon laughed at the look of shock on your face, his cock growing harder at the sight. "See? I knew you would make a great whore," he smirked, his words bringing a flush to your face.

He pulled your dress up, exposing your ass and legs. His hands were rough as he groped you, squeezing your thighs and your cheeks.

You pushed against him, trying to free yourself, but his grip was too strong. He pushed your thighs apart, his hand trailing up to your cunt, his fingers stroking your entrance, teasing you.

He softened at your defiance, a smirk crossing his lips. "I enjoy you, little northerner. Perhaps I should keep you," he mused.

He slid his finger into your cunt, his touch gentle and slow. You whimpered, pushing against him again.

"You would be my little northern flower," he murmured, his finger moving in and out of your cunt, the pace becoming quicker. "A blue rose in my garden."

You were ashamed of how aroused you were, the prince's touch was intoxicating, and you couldn't stop yourself from grinding your hips against his hand. You had never been with a man before and the pleasure he was giving you was beyond anything you had ever felt.

He slid another finger inside of you, his movements quick and rough. You moaned, biting your lip as you felt yourself getting closer to release.

He suddenly pulled away, the sudden absence of his touch made you whimper. He spun you around, knocking objects off the table and pinning you against it. Your hands went to his chest, pushing him back, but his grip was too strong, his eyes filled with lust.

"You're a feisty one," he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands gripping your ass, lifting you up and pressing you against his hips. "I guess it's true that the fires always burn hotter in the north,"

You shivered as he sucked and bit at the skin on your neck, his teeth scraping across your sensitive flesh, leaving red marks behind. You couldn't help but moan, the feeling was so intense, and the sounds were so sinful.

"My prince... I..." You stuttered, trying to find the words, but he cut you off with a kiss.

The feel of his hands on your body, his lips on yours, his cock hard against you, was intoxicating. You had never felt this way before, this desire, this want. He made you feel like you were drowning in the fire of his touch. He was a dragon, and he would take what he wanted.

You couldn't resist, you gave in, kissing him back, letting his tongue explore your mouth. He smelled of blood, dirt and sweat, a combination that shouldn't have been appealing, but was.

You could taste his lust on your lips, and it made you hungry for more. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pressing yourself closer to him, and he moaned, the sound rumbling in his chest. He was so much larger than you, so much stronger, and you felt so small in his arms.

His hand trailed down your chest, slowly untying the strings that held up your dress, his fingers tracing over the fabric, teasing you.

"Sweet little northern girl," he teased, his voice a low growl. "Are you going to give yourself to me?"

"Yes," you whispered, your cheeks flushed pink.

He kissed you again, his lips rough and demanding, his hand pushing your dress down, exposing your breasts. "You've never touched yourself before, have you?”

"No, my Prince," you whispered, your little hands curled into his chest, your nails digging into his skin.

"That's alright, I'll show you how it's done."

His hands slid down to your thighs, his fingers trailing up, his touch light and teasing. You let out a gasp as his fingers brushed over your cunt, touching a spot that made your body tremble.

"This little spot right here," he said, rubbing his thumb against it, "is the most sensitive part of your body. The more pressure, the better."

You nodded, gasping and moaning as he pressed his thumb against it, circling it. You could feel the heat rising within you, the pleasure building.

"Feels good doesn't it?" He whispered, his voice husky, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Y-yes," you stuttered, your hips moving, grinding against his hand.

He chuckled, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

"Do you like being my little whore, hmm?" He asked, his lips trailing down your neck, his kisses hot and wet.

"N-no," you moaned, pushing him back, trying to fight against him.

He laughed, his teeth nipping at your collarbone. "Liar," he whispered, his tongue licking over the marks he'd made.

His hands reaching down to his waist, undoing his breeches and pulling them off, his cock springing free. You gasped, your eyes wide as you took in the size of him.

He took your hand and placed it on his cock, his eyes burning into yours. "Go on, feel it," he whispered.

Your fingers curled around his cock, your small hand barely able to fit around him. You moved your hand, sliding it down the length of his shaft, his cock thick and pulsing in your hand. His skin was so warm and smooth, his breathing deepening as you began to move your hand up and down, stroking him slowly.

You could see the scars from battle stretched across his chest and torso. Small claw-like marks around his pectoral and a deep line that stretched down the left side of his rib cage. He was a hardened warrior, and you could tell by his scars, he had been through much to get where he was now.

You squeezed his cock, moving your hand up and down, his breathing deepening and his eyes growing hazy. He watched you, his gaze following every movement you made. You were starting to get more comfortable, taking pleasure in watching him, in making him feel good. You found the nerve to press the pad of your thumb against the tip, feeling the moisture leaking from him.

"Good girl," he praised, his voice low and husky.

You felt a wave of pride, knowing that you were pleasing him, that he liked the way you were touching him. You continued to stroke him, squeezing and pulling at his cock, watching his face, seeing the pleasure on his features.

He groaned, his eyes closing and his head tilting back, his breath catching. You could feel his cock throbbing in your hand, and you knew that he was getting close.

He let out a low growl and grabbed your wrist, halting your movements. "If you keep that up, I'm going to spill my seed all over this pretty little dress of yours," he said, his eyes full of heat.

"Is that so, my lord?" You asked, unable to hide the hint of amusement in your voice.

He grabbed your hips and pulled you under him, his body caging you, trapping you beneath him. He was breathing hard, his face flushed, his cock hard and resting on your stomach. His eyes burned into yours, his gaze intense, his hands gripping your hips, holding you steady.

You weren't talking back anymore, he could see the fear in your eyes, the hesitance, and that only made him want you more. His hand went to your throat, applying gentle pressure, a silent warning.

He could feel you trembling beneath him, and he tightened his grip, a primal, possessive urge rising within him. Your small hands pushing into his chest, clutching at his heated flesh.

"Open for me," he growled, his eyes fixed on yours.

You parted your thighs, allowing him to press closer to you. He growled, lifting your legs and wrapping them around his waist, his cock brushing against your cunt. He felt you tighten, your eyes widening with trepidation.

He chuckled, loving how terrified and eager you were at the same time. He gave you a moment, and then he slowly pushed into you. You whimpered, your nails digging into his back, your eyes closed, your face twisted in pain.

"Breathe," he said, rubbing his thumb against your cheek, "it will hurt for a just moment and then I will make you feel good,"

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you felt his cock hit your maidenhead.

"Are you ready, little northerner?" He whispered.

You gripped his forearms and nodded.

He pushed in slowly, breaking through your barrier. You cried out, the pain was intense and immediate. He groaned, the feel of your tight cunt was intoxicating.

He stayed still, giving you time to adjust. Your nails dug into his arms, leaving deep scratches in his flesh.

"Such a pretty, tight little cunt," he growled, nipping at your neck.

You kept your eyes closed, trying to focus on his words and not the pain. He began to move with slow, deep strokes, his cock stretching you, filling you. He was bigger than he felt in your hands, and you swore you could feel him everywhere.

He moaned, his hips rocking into you, his hand still on your throat, making you feel lightheaded. You looked up at him with wide eyes, your lips parted, your cheeks flushed. You felt so full of him, stretched open, the pain and pleasure mixing into one.

He watched your reaction with a smirk, amused by your shocked, satisfied expression. He was moving slowly, enjoying your warmth and the feel of your cunt clenching around him. He knew you were enjoying it, too, your eyes half-closed, a soft moan escaping your lip. Your small frame was arched to his body, your hands holding on to his neck.

You were surprised at his gentleness. You'd heard that the dragon prince liked to rough up women, but he was being as careful as if you were made of spun sugar. You felt so small and helpless underneath him, his large body nearly engulfing yours, and yet he wasn't hurting you. His touch was delicate, reverent. The way he spoke to you, calling you pet names, made your heart skip a beat.

You arched against him, a soft cry leaving your lips as his strokes got faster, deeper, hitting a place inside you that sent a sharp, hot pleasure through you.

"Does my little northerner like her prince's cock?" He said, a laugh in his voice, he began to pick up the pace, pounding into you.

You squeaked and pushed on his chest, the sensations becoming too much. He grabbed your hips and held you still, fucking you hard and fast, his eyes full of fire.

You felt your release rising up inside you, the tension in your body winding tighter and tighter. You could feel yourself clamping down on his cock, the pleasure almost too much, the sweet pain sending you over the edge.

He groaned at the sight of you coming undone, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as you shattered around him. He could feel the tension in your muscles as your climax tore through you. He slowed his movements, easing out the last waves of pleasure, drawing it out until you were a shuddering, moaning mess.

He was close behind, his thrusts erratic, his breathing harsh. He pulled out and spilled his seed across your stomach, his hips bucking. He pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, a contented sigh leaving his lips. At least he had one victory today.

Your face was hot with shame, your mind unable to comprehend what just happened. The prince's seed was cooling on your stomach and chest, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. Your hands went to your face, covering it as tears came to your eyes, you had never felt so good and so embarrassed at once.

He moved off of you, his eyes locked on yours, a smirk crossing his lips. He looked satisfied, his gaze wandering over your body, lingering on the wetness between your legs, the mess he'd made of you. He tossed you a cloth to clean yourself with. You wiped his seed off your skin, watching him dress, his blonde hair still braided back, his purple eyes full of lust and desire. He was a warrior, a dragon, he was beauty and strength, power and masculinity. He was everything you wanted and feared, a beast who could destroy you.

He gave you a side glance, his eyes full of amusement. "You may go," he said, shooing you away with a hand.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, as you took a shaky breath. You stood up, gathering the pieces of your dress and your underclothes. Your legs were wobbly, and you felt weak, sore, and full of shame.

"Yes, my prince," you said quietly, looking at the floor, unable to meet his eyes.

He chuckled, the sound of his voice making you shiver. "Don't be so timid, little northerner. This is the beginning, not the end," he said, his words sending a jolt of fear and excitement through you.

He was right, this was only the beginning. You were his servant, and he could do with you as he pleased. He would have you come to him whenever he chose, on the warmest summer nights and the coldest winter days. He would take what he wanted, when he wanted.

He was a dragon, and his will was as strong as his blood.

And deep down, you knew you would enjoy it. He was the perfect thing to distract you from the mundanity of your life, the endless monotony of serving others.

Perhaps the Red Keep wouldn't be so terrible, not if it meant serving him.

[yandere-sins]

I don't know if you write something like this, but what about reader being Hades lover instead of Persephone like it's supposed to be? I imagine reader is some normal human on our world learning about Greeks Gods but suddenly got isekai'd into the Mythology haha. Imagine the confusion and flabbergasted reader felt by all of this.

Reader try to find a way back to human world but ended up in the forest where all of this started. Trying to avoid Persephone fate of being Hades's lover that eating the underworld food, but of course, Hades wants the reader to eat the food. After all Hades got all the time and reader is starving.

I would love the tension, back and forth of Hades temptation and reader insistent. Thanks!

Okay but what if I take your idea, and I give it a tiny plot twist? Make it just a little bit more horrifying? Okay, okay hear me out, look...

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Being a human had never been so frustrating.

It was one thing to manage the daily challenges of adulthood, of living on your own and taking care of yourself. Things got tough, and they got fun again; sunrises made you smile, and losing a beloved restaurant to a global issue made your heart somber. For the longest time, you believed having a shitty day at work and then having to go home in the rain because you forgot your umbrella was the worst your life would ever get.

But you were wrong. Very wrong.

Because where there was no life, that's where things became messed up.

"One bite," he pleaded. With the pomegranate juices running down his spindly fingers, the red was almost disturbingly blood-like against the faded color of his skin. "Please. I know you are so hungry."

Pouting your lips, you shook your head, turning and marching onwards through the dark forest of lush yet colorless greenery. It was just a park, Hades had explained, but every time you thought you'd break through the thicket, it expanded further, endlessly like a maze of trees and bushes.

You two had kept up this dance of rejection and chase for a while now, days to be exact. And you were unsure if he knew, but you were hanging on to the last threads of sanity. You felt your knees buckle with resistance every time you rejected yet another offer of fresh food and sweet nectar, your stomach screaming in aghast horror as you kept denying freshly picked fruits and beautifully arranged plates that could sate your hunger. And your head had become so dizzy from the stress and anxiety that you began feeling as if your life was being drained right out of you to feed this place instead.  

The Underworld. Resting place of souls.

Occasionally, you had heard about occult stuff like fairy rings or portals to another world. You never thought that accidentally falling into a river would end with you being transported right into the realm of the afterlife! You had cursed at your feet for being so clumsy and easily losing their balance, but at this point, you had no strength left other than to be thankful they still carried you around. You weren't dead yet, but you didn't think you were very much alive either.

"I need to find a way out..." you mumbled to yourself, your mouth feeling dry and your head buzzing with incoherent thoughts. Only determination had gotten you up after passing out so many times. Only knowing you came here somehow, so you must have been able to get back somehow, kept you going. Things were tough, but you were tougher, right?

"There is none," the god of the Underworld mumbled, a tinge of regret breaking through his voice. "You've been here too long. There is no way back from here."

You breathed out, coming to a halt, as did his ghostly appearance behind you. It was colder in his proximity, yet he stayed close as if to comfort you. His body was cloaked in black swivels, yet his face was almost too handsome to look at directly. His hands were visibly gnarly like those of skeletons, yet you knew his touch was soft and his palms big and reliable, able to catch you before you hit your head on the floor from fainting. His hair fell in waves of ebony beauty, and his crown was so intricately woven into it that it made him look humble and whimsical rather than fearsome and ruthless like the stories made him out to be.

There was nothing about him to hate or make you truly distrustful of him. Yet, you still wished he would leave you, just like in the beginning, when he could only stay for a limited time to watch you struggle before returning to his duties. But his time by your side had gradually increased, and perhaps that was the feeling of dread you've been experiencing for a while now.

"Don't you have anywhere else to be?" you asked, too exhausted to sound snarky.

"I cannot leave you like this. It's not your time yet."

"Then let me go! Lead me out of here!"

In a spurt of a moment, you regained enough strength to spin around, yelling at him angrily. You regretted raising your voice as you looked into the flash of hurt crossing his features before the beautiful grimace turned serious again.

"I can't," he said firmly, holding out the pomegranate again. Its fragrance enticed your nose, saliva collecting in your mouth as it promised to be an especially juicy one. "There is nowhere I could lead you but back to the palace. But you wouldn't make the journey unless you eat and drink. You're just human, after all."

It must have been easy for a god to point out your biggest flaw of them all: you were just human.

"Can I go home if I go back to the palace?" you asked, eyeing the pomegranate with disdain even though your teeth demanded to sink into its flesh, chew apart the seeds, and satiate your hunger.

"No," Hades shook his head. "But you could find peace there. Stop the endless roaming of the gardens for an exit that doesn't exist at this point in time."

"You're lying," you concluded finally. "You want me to eat the pomegranate so you can claim my soul for the Underworld. You're telling me there is no exit, but there is, you just don't want me to find it."

Your accusations left a mark on Hades, the brilliance of his eyes dulling as he heaved a deep sigh, letting his head hang before shaking it slowly. "I'm not lying. I'd never lie to you. I have enough souls waiting for me to give them a place here. I don't need to kidnap humans that Thanatos doesn't have on his list. It was an accident. A fatal one at that, but your stubbornness made it irreversible."

"So it's my fault, eh?" you tried to argue, but there was no bite left in your voice. Raising your hand, you dug your finger into the soft flesh of the pomegranate, felt the fruit yielding to your touch without resistance. Hades closed in, eager for you to finally accept his offering.

"You know what they say about Persephone and the pomegranate. How you trapped her, how you forced her to stay here. Tales of you don't make you look so good."

Without looking up, you could only imagine the anger or frustration that must have played on Hades' expression, but he surprised you when he picked up your hand, raised it to his lips, and slipped your pomegranate-stained finger into his mouth. You watched in horrifying fascination as the god licked off the stain on your skin with relish, the brilliance returning to his eyes as you met his gaze, confident, unwavering.

"People have long made up stories about us, but my wife has never been unhappy with me. And my pomegranates are truly delicious, I only wish for you to taste it. I wouldn't lie to you about these things. I promise I will never lie to you. It's not my nature to begin with, and I'm trying to make things better for you, not harder."

You felt the tears well up in your eyes at the sincere words of such an otherworldly creature—one you only believed to be a story that people believed in religiously. You never thought the gods could be real, much less kind and compassionate. But when you popped the first pomegranate seed into your mouth, your whole body collapsing and Hades catching you with one arm, lifting you up to his height with ease, you realized he had been truthful.

The fruit tasted tart but was absolutely delectable. It had a different kind of sweetness than the ones you had eaten on earth, and tears streamed down your face as you scooped a handful of it, greedily stuffing it into your mouth with no regard for its juices. Hades didn't seem to mind either, holding you seated on one arm, with the fruit halves in his other, the pomegranate bigger than what you were used to, yet still small in his hands even when cut open.

You cried and ate, your body rejuvenating yet also releasing all the tension and fear you had clung to. Your vision was blurry with tears, your nose stuffed, and your head so pleased with the taste of pomegranate on your tongue that it didn't think of anything else. You didn't even register that Hades turned around, strutting back towards the dark, looming palace behind the forest that was the gardens stretching out before it. He was in no hurry, yet it took him barely the blink of an eye to return to where you had first woken up.

By the time he reached the palace doors, you were fast asleep with a belly full of pomegranate, and your thoughts turned into pleasant dreams. The shadows of his body were licking at you, caressing you gently and touching you much more comfortingly than his cold hands could. Even so, he never let go of you, content with you on his arm, resting against his shoulder as if he had taken any worries from you, just like he wished to.

"I see you have received my gift."

"My Queen? You are back early."

"I have not returned yet from my duties; I merely wanted to visit my husband and bring him a gift."

Stepping down a few steps to meet Hades on his way to the palace, Persephone smiled at him warmly, cupping his cheek, which he couldn't help but melt into. She ran her thumb across his cheekbone lovingly a few times before her hand slipped from him to your head, brushing back your hair gently and revealing your face to her.

"The gods above are stirring with excitement for their special humans. Apollo has just collected an extraordinary one for himself. I know you care so little for these trends, but knowing you wait down here for me, alone and so lost in your work, you don't see the seasons pass until I return—it breaks my heart. I thought it would cheer you up to have something so precious to pass the time. You can do as you please with them, treat them as you like. They are yours to own."

"You shouldn't have. They are human, Persephone. Being in the Underworld will cause them nothing but suffering."

"Well," she huffed, agitated by her husband's chiding. They have an eternity to get used to it, just like I did. They will be fine. You can teach them to like it and show them how beautiful this realm can be if they behave themselves. Besides, the pomegranate tree bloomed the moment they came here; it must have been a sign."

Passing by her husband on the way out, she winked at him, and he knew fully well that it had not been a coincidence. Neither that you fell into the Underworld years too early, nor that the tree sprouted fruits the second you arrived. Looking down at you, he watched you furrow your brows as Persephone's warm touch vanished, and you nuzzled your head further into his shadows, trying to find just a bit of the same comfort with him that she could give you.

You truly were lovely. So small, so impossibly perfect. Precious, she called you, but of course you were since his wife knew him well. The moment Hades laid eyes on you, he knew he couldn't bear letting you go and wait until you'd inevitably return to his side as the course of life took its sweet time to reunite you two. And thanks to Persephone, he never even had to lie to you to make you eat the pomegranate on your own and so wholly, he would never have to part ways with you again.

"It is a wonderful gift, thank you," Hades admitted. Persephone smiled, laughing heartily as she made her way back to the surface, passing through the park that stretched out in front of her with ease as it let her pass towards the exit. It was her garden, after all. But even as the two separated temporarily, Hades could hear her say, "I can't wait to get to know them when I return, too."

And he couldn't wait to introduce the now two most beloved parts of his existence, either.

[multicohn]

summary: fans don’t like lando’s new girlfriend because how scary and emotionless she looks, but he could care less.

warnings: mention of fans not liking the reader

pairing: fem! reader x lando norris

genre: fluff, short one shot, established relationship

face claim: none

author note: lowkey kinda sucks. i don’t have much motivation to write rn but i wanted to upload something 🥲

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the couple had only been dating for only eight months before lando decided to reveal his girlfriend to the public. y/n had no problem with keeping it a secret since they were both unsure if their relationship would even work given the busy schedules they had, but through a lot of communication they managed to make it work. however, fans weren’t very happy since y/n always looked emotionless or angry on screen and in photos despite lando having a giant smile on his face that could rival all might’s ( my hero academia reference ) when he’s beside her. his fans were very vocal about how they felt about her, but neither of them cared.

the british grand prix was only a few days away and ever since they started dating, lando had dreamed of having her being by his side. however, y/n ( had exams that weekend / couldn’t get time off work ). he tried not to show that he was upset, brushing it off with a simple; "well, there's always next year", but y/n knew him too well and knew how much this race meant to him. any other race would have been understandable, but this was the british grand prix.

when lando arrived on thursday, he was immediately greeted by cameras, microphones, and merchandise being shoved at him from every direction.

"you look a little down, lando. not a fan of the weather?" it was quite cloudy that day and the rain was starting to pick up, but it was far from the reasoning behind his mood

"just didn't get a good sleep"

"oh?"

y/n had gone to bed much earlier than usual, saying she needed all the energy she possibly could for tomorrow. lando inquired about what was so important, but she refused to tell him. he had stayed up last night and wondered about what was happening; was her exam worth much more than he realised? / did her job have a special work thing going on that he doesn't remember?

lando sighed deeply as he made his way inside the hospitality area. his hand itching to grab his phone and text y/n despite knowing that she would be busy.

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y/n had lied.

she knew how much this race in particular meant to lando and she wasn’t going to miss it, but the thought of surprising him made her lie about school / work.

unfortunately, her plan slightly backfired as she was going to surprise lando when he finished his practice session, but the weather delayed everything.

shrugging it off, y/n entered the garage to find her boyfriend dressed in his race suit with a windbreak over top and looked to be dozing off in a chair.

“lando” y/n tapped his shoulder gently as she sat down beside him

“oh, hey baby” he commented while staring at her sleepily

. . .

he suddenly shot out of his chair making those around them jump in fright at the sudden movement.

“y/n?” lando rubbed his eyes. sure that his brain is still asleep and making him hallucinate

“yeah?”

“am i dreaming?” she rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the tv where they were showing fans who were in colourful ponchos or raincoats

she almost laughed at seeing someone’s poncho decorated with george russell’s face.

however, all emotion left y/n's eyes as her face popped up on the screen before it shifted towards lando who was just dazing at her lovingly.

if they were in a cartoon, his eyes would've been hearts.

she heard some people let out “awes” and they started cooing at the couple making the edges of y/n's lips twitch upwards. she turned to her boyfriend and placed a hand on his cheeks before caressing softly.

once they were no longer on screen, y/n leaned forward and kissed her boyfriend gently.

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